you're cold and I burn (on hold)

Who else was going to protect you from small woodl<strong>and</strong> creatures?”
Obviously, Louis has seen Harry shirtless, but not in the light of so many flickering c<strong>and</strong>les. Not
while his mind is buzzing <strong>and</strong> his blood is rushing. The desire to reach out to Harry is so
powerful, <strong>and</strong> he’s st<strong>and</strong>ing so close.
Louis lets out a breathy chortle at his joke, <strong>and</strong> doesn’t stop his h<strong>and</strong> as it reaches up, flattening on
Harry’s stomach, his fingers running gently over the lines. It’s more observant, but with the way
everything in Louis’ body feels like jelly, <strong>and</strong> the way Harry st<strong>and</strong>s so tall over him, like a shelter,
he wants to feel him. Just the touch of his skin, just something simple <strong>and</strong> harmless. His h<strong>and</strong>s are
hesitant, so are his eyes, but Harry just st<strong>and</strong>s there, calm as can be, watching Louis closely. His
eyes are giving him silent permission, <strong>and</strong> the smile on his face is more of a toned-down smirk.
He’s just watching Louis as Louis watches his own h<strong>and</strong> <strong>and</strong> the way Harry’s skin raises in
bumps behind his touch. The sound in the room is nonexistent, <strong>and</strong> Louis can feel the banging of
Harry’s heartbeat beneath his palm. It’s hot, they seem to be st<strong>and</strong>ing in a <strong>burn</strong>ing room, but
neither of them move, just st<strong>and</strong>ing there <strong>and</strong> allowing soft touches <strong>and</strong> careful stares to immerse
them.
And the tension in the air is so strong it's drowning him.
The way the light from the c<strong>and</strong>les are soaking into his skin, the soft <strong>and</strong> diluted shadows
peppering over every curve <strong>and</strong> crevice, it’s so.. pretty. Its art, something from Greece in the most
stunning statue or painting. A mix of gold <strong>and</strong> black, with sharp corners <strong>and</strong> softer edges. Harry is
crafted beautifully, his body is entrancing. He doesn’t mind at all as Louis’ fingers trace up to his
collar bones, hearing the slight intake of breath as he ghosts over the bone, running his touch over
his shoulders. It’s r<strong>and</strong>om, it’s odd, but its quiet <strong>and</strong> Louis has to fight the urge to move his h<strong>and</strong>s
even lower. Harry takes another step closer. Louis' stomach drops to his soaked feet, <strong>and</strong> the air
from his lungs is hitched in his throat, he can’t bring his eyes to look at Harry’s. He can feel the
pressure of his stare, willing him on, he can feel the way Harry’s tensing, he can feel the way his
fingers are trembling. Why are they trembling?
“Are you studying me?” Harry asks, his tone deep <strong>and</strong> smooth, its like he can flip a switch. And if
Harry ever tried to fully seduce Louis, there’s no doubt fighting it would even be a possibility.
It’s hard to speak, mostly because Louis doesn’t want to ripple the air with his own voice. But the
words come out, slip through his lips without even thinking about what he’s about to say, “You’re
beautiful.”
Something in Harry’s eyes flash.. <strong>and</strong> suddenly he takes a step back, just out of reach. The air gets
<strong>cold</strong> with his body heat being pulled from between them as Louis' h<strong>and</strong> falls limply to his side,
ignoring the confusion on his own face as he looks at Harry. He looks like he’s been slapped,
blinking rapidly as he shakes his head. Every feeling in the room drops to the floor <strong>and</strong> scatters
away under the furniture, it’s replaced with an awkward cloak, as Louis opens his mouth to speak.
For some reason, all he can do is stare as Harry stalks away, wordlessly into his room. Before the
thought can even be connected to make sense of the situation, the door is closed <strong>and</strong> the
conversation is effectively ended.
Louis can only st<strong>and</strong> the dumb founded with the tingle of Harry’s warmth on his finger tips <strong>and</strong>
the dagger of denial buried deep in his chest.
****