No Strings Attached

Chapter Ten

The last night that Louis and Harry spent together had an air of uncertainty to it – and it was too thick and palpable to ignore.

But it wasn’t like they mentioned it, either. But through their harried greetings, urgent whispers, and fervent movements, they knew what clouded each other’s thoughts. It was there whenever Harry’s back arched in explosive pleasure, and it was there whenever Louis keened in ecstasy. Though they should have been attentive and in the business of making this last encounter memorable – or at least, as memorable as any situation between friends with benefits could ever hope to be – their minds were elsewhere, and it was maddening. 

Louis knew that the uncertainty came from the very literal ambiguity of when they would see each other again. In the aftermath of that contemplative evening when Harry shared his big news, he had also mentioned that their recording sessions would likely take them to several other locations in Europe before exporting them to the United States – a one-to-two month endeavor at least if things moved swiftly. But because Harry had no way of knowing how quickly things would go, he couldn’t guarantee anything. So they had made peace with the very simple fact that casual hook-ups, at least with each other, just weren’t in the cards for them. 

It was only a couple days ago, when Harry knew his precise departure date, that they had had the conversation. 

“But I wouldn’t be offended if you did the same with other people,” Harry had said, after a long silence during which Louis stared off at the kitchen wall and wondered how he was going to resume life without the curly-haired boy in it and whether he could even remember a time before green eyes had unexpectedly occupied his world. 

“What?” 

“Other people,” Harry repeated, albeit with a little less conviction. “Lou, I wouldn’t want you to stop having sex just because I’m not around. That would be fucking hell.” 

It would be hell, Louis thought, but maybe not for the reasons that either of them suspected.

“Then I don’t want you saving yourself from me while you’re away either,” Louis said before he knew just what his words had become. 

Harry raised a brow. “Saving myself? You thought I was going to save myself for you, Louis Tomlinson? You must think you’re one bloody good shag if you think that you’re anything worth saving myself for.” 

But Louis must have missed the twinkle of mischief in Harry’s eye because his heart fell a little as he stuttered, “Not – I mean, no, that’s not – I didn’t mean save yourself like that. I just – Christ, I just meant that I didn’t want you missing out on an actually bloody good shag on my behalf. Trust me, I’m nothing to worry about.” He couldn’t deny that his words dripped with malice, whether unintentional or not. 

Harry frowned upon hearing Louis’ ramble, and he tentatively reached for the older boy’s hand that had been resting on the kitchen table between them. He inched forward slowly as if testing to see whether Louis would back away. When he didn’t, Harry gave his hand an encouraging pat, his touch lingering a little longer than it should before eventually backing away. 

“Lou, I was kidding. You are a bloody good shag. The best, even.” 

“Oh, shut up, Haz,” Louis grumbled, though he bit down hard on his lip to keep his blossoming grin from spreading. 

“Oi, I see you smiling,” Harry said accusingly. “And…I would ‘save’ myself. I would, Lou. If that’s what you wanted.” 

Louis looked up at him and really took a moment to appreciate the gravity of what Harry had just suggested. Neither of them were smiling anymore. Instead, they locked eyes in a strangely intense session of thoughtfulness. Harry had meant it genuinely, and Louis knew it.