#sel edit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stylinsoncity · 8 months

Text

These SEL scenes begin the morning after Lucia's party in Edinburgh in chp 22, all written from Louis' POV. Also included is Louis' chat with Perry and then of course, the infamous fight scene D: i'm sorry...

Louis watches Harry wake the next morning and this is how he knows he loves him. Because, amongst many things, simply watching him never gets boring. He loves the flutter of Harry’s lashes before his eyes open. The deep inhale he draws before occasionally yawning. Their eyes meet and Louis loves that too.

“Morning,” Louis says.

“Morning,” Harry says, his lips toying with a smile.

Yeah, Louis also loves that. He goes on looking at him. Harry’s smile grows and then with a squeal or something, he pulls the duvet up and over his face. Louis laughs, reaches over and yanks the duvet back down.

"What?" Louis says.

"You're staring at me."

"I can't look at you?"

"It's how you're looking at me."

"How am I looking at you?"

"You know how you're looking at me!"

Louis glances at Harry's mouth. He knows his lips are soft and warm in the morning. All of him is soft and warm. Sometimes Louis can't decide whether he's especially horny or especially thirsty. The answer is always both, but it's unclear which one dominates at any given time. Louis observes the flush of Harry's face, either because he's just woken up or because of how Louis' looking at him, and he still can't decide.

"For fuck's sake, Louis. You're still doing it!" Harry says in faux hysterics.

“I don't know what you mean," Louis says, licking his smiling lips. "Your heart’s going nuts right now."

“You’re being weird, that’s why,” Harry says.

“You’re right I am,” Louis says, then he leans in and kisses Harry on the mouth.

“Do you often watch me sleep?” Harry asks.

“No,” Louis says. “Maybe.”

“I watch you sleep sometimes.”

“I know you do,” Louis says. “You forget I can keep myself very still. Sometimes you think I’m asleep and you start caressing my cheek all lovingly.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Louis tosses his arm around his waist and tugs him in close. He presses another quick kiss to his mouth. Harry is instantly abated. He turns to face Louis and throws his arm around him too..

“I told my mum we’d stay for two more days, but we don’t have to,” says Louis.

“That’s fine with me. I like it here.”

Louis still sort of hates to admit it, but— “So do I,” he says with a shrug. “Mum and I talked like you suggested. I think we’ll be alright.”

“Good,” Harry says. “I knew you’d work it out. And it doesn’t all have to happen overnight. Now that you’ve reconnected with her, you can still take things slow.”

“Yeah… It’s thanks to you, though, you know? If you weren’t here, I would’ve left already.”

“I’m happy to help,” Harry says.

In general, he thinks Harry makes him a kinder, more forgiving person. He riles him up and mellows him out at the same time. He challenges Louis’ thoughts about the world in a way that helps him grow. He gets randomly excited lately, thinking about the next several weeks once the wedding is off and they officially start their lives together.

There’s so much he wants to do with him that they never had a chance to. But if nothing else, they’ll grow and learn even more. They’ll be better and stronger than his parents were. And no, they might not have forever. He can’t really imagine losing him in eight years. But if that’s his fate, he’ll make the best of those eight years. They’ll be the best years of their lives.

Louis leans in to kiss him again and that kiss stretches on for a little while. It’s difficult to stop once he’s started. “Tell me what you want to do today,” he says between one kiss and the next. “We’ll do it.”

“There’s something that definitely comes to mind,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to Louis’ jaw and his throat. “But we can’t. Unless we take another horse ride.”

“Or we can just keep quiet. I know that’s difficult for you.”

“You're not a bloody church mouse either,” Harry grumbles.

Louis snorts, tugging on Harry’s hip. “Just get the fuck here.”

“We can’t,” Harry says again.

Louis sighs. “I’ll go have a wank, then. I can’t go anywhere like this,” he says, pushing the duvet aside, revealing the obvious tent in his pants.

Harry narrows his eyes at him. “If any of the kids hear, I’ll be horrified. Like I'll catch the next flight home because I'll be too embarrassed to stay.”

“Guess you'll have to keep quiet,” Louis says again, sliding his hand up beneath Harry’s t-shirt. Harry pulls the t-shirt off. He mounts Louis’ hips without further hesitation. With a laugh, Louis reaches for his bum. Then, the door opens and Harry flops back to his side. At least it’s a housekeeper that barges in and not one of the children Harry’s made friends with. She’s clearly just as embarrassed and unaccustomed to walking in on household members pre-coitus. Louis refuses to think about what anyone else in the house gets up to.

The maid leaves after entreating Louis to tea with his “stepfather.”

Louis would love to stay in bed all morning with Harry, but they’ll have plenty more mornings to wake up together. He nearly says as much, but doesn’t because he’s starting to shock himself with how sappy he’s grown in the last several days. He does at least assure Harry that he has plans to meet Elisabeth when they’re back in Ravenoir.

Which is when Harry’s heartrate spikes oddly.

Louis doesn’t really want to ruin their time in Edinburgh, but eventually, he’ll have to question Harry about whatever it is he’s hiding. Because Zayn was right and Harry occasionally smells of fear.

Fear smells like the sudden profusion of sweat and the increase of oxygen in one’s bloodstream. Harry’s heartbeat will quicken or the breath will momentarily pause and then rush through his lungs. His gaze might even drift away. To anyone else, those occurrences would be imperceptible, but not for Louis’ kind. Louis catches them all, particularly in the moments when they discuss their future.

He wants it to be nothing, but he knows deep down that it’s not. So, in that case, whatever it is, they can only hope to manage it together, the way they’ve managed almost everything else.

Perry’s study is located in the basement without any windows or any possibility of sunlight. But it doesn’t have that dreary lifeless quality about it that most coldblood dwellings do. It’s cosy and well-lit by lamps and a fireplace and even a novelty neon sign by a bar cart.

Louis taps on the open door and Perry beckons him inside. “Have a seat,” he says.

Louis takes one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He clocks a guitar leaning against the wall by a collection of records. “Do you play?” he asks, nodding to the instrument.

“Oh, a bit. I’m learning. Certainly not as musically gifted as you or Harry.”

“Well, we’ve been at it since we were six or so.”

"Of course." Perry serves them both cups of tea. “You seem nervous.”

Louis realises he is. He has a sip of his tea. “Usually, when my dad sits me down for a chat, it doesn’t end well. I’m not looking for…another father figure or whatever…if it means more of that. And I’m not saying you’re anything like him. I’m just saying I’ve got my hands full with my father already.”

Once he’s said it, as uncomfortable as it is, he feels a weight fall off his chest. He hardly knows anything about this man. He doesn’t mean to make premature judgments. But the fear of landing himself in another toxic parental dynamic has hovered distantly over him since he learned about Perry.

Perry however seems unpeturbed. “That sounds fair to me. I was more so hoping we could just be friends. I won’t give you advice you don’t ask for, how’s that?”

Louis blinks. He shrugs as coolly as possible, but he’s almost overwhelmed with relief. “That sounds good to me.”

“You know, I actually wasn’t sure I wanted children before I was turned,” Perry says. “The instant I knew I could no longer have them, the grief set in. I didn’t feel there was much to live for back then, to be honest. Until I met your mum. She was eighteen at the time. She had a lot of influence, coming from nobility. She got me a job. She made sure I was housed and fed. Most people, if they’re kind, would just stop there. But your mother is more than kind. She became my friend. She listened to me. Before I knew it, I was in love with her.”

“And then my father came along,” Louis says.

Perry grimaces. “Yes.”

“I look a lot like him,” Louis says. “We could be twins, some people say. When you look at me, do you not see him? And hate me a little?”

“You’re more like your mum than you know,” Perry says. “I never actually met your father, but I don’t think that’d make a difference. You’re Lucia’s son, through and through.”

Louis peers into his teacup while he mulls that over. He has another sip and looks about the room.

“Anyway,” Perry goes on. “I wasn’t all that sure I’d be a good father, but then Lucia brought all these children into our lives and I think I’ve done alright. It comes naturally, I guess.”

“I can tell they’re all really happy here,” Louis says.

“Do you want children?”

Louis clears his throat. “I mean, yeah. I do. The logistics are a bit…tricky, I think. But if it’s possible, yeah.”

“Tricky how?”

Louis looks at him, his eyes slightly narrowed. “My mum hasn’t told you?”

“Oh, with Harry,” Perry says. He makes a face. “I don’t think that’d be all that tricky. There are surrogates and such. You could also adopt like we have.”

The old vampire is full of surprises. Perry’s nonchalance about the matter both stuns and soothes Louis. He’s not sure what reaction he expected. Perhaps because of Perry’s age, Louis thought his beliefs would be more antiquated.

“There’s also…the issue with his curse,” Louis says. “If we don’t figure anything out— when he turns thirty—”

He can’t say it. He exhales a breath.

“Your mum mentioned that too,” Perry says. “I’m sorry. It sounds like you and Harry have been through a lot together. You deserve more than eight years.”

Louis feels his eyes sting and looks at him a bit alarmed at the prospect of crying in front of his new-ish stepfather. He won’t actually cry, but he’s been fighting off a round of tears since that conversation in the garden last night. The last time he cried was also in Edinburgh, reading Harry’s old letters. He thinks he’s overdue for another.

“It’s okay to show you’re hurting,” Perry says.

“I don’t see how that’s helpful for him,” Louis says. “Not yet anyway. We’ve still got time. So I’m making the best of it.”

Perry smiles. “Sounds like what your mum would say. She’d also tell you to loot as much happiness as you can. It’s owed to you.”

Louis nods. “I intend to.”

“Good,” Perry says. “How about after dinner we pop over to the pub, you, me and Harry?”

“Yeah. That’d be great, actually,” Louis says. “Let’s do it.”

Perry stands, so Louis does too. They both hesitate a minute and then Perry steps forward and draws Louis into a brief hug. It’s inevitably awkward, but only slightly. And more importantly, Louis doesn’t hate it.

Perry pats his back and draws away. “Just to put it out there,” he says. “When you do decide you want another father figure, I am up for the job.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say to that. He thinks that his own father was never up for the job. He fathered children solely because it was part of his duty as heir and because he’s an arrogant bastard who likes the thought of several iterations of himself existing in the world. But he’s never offered nurture or care the way fathers are meant to. Louis doesn’t know how to accept as much because he doesn’t have much practice.

He thinks Perry has the patience to understand that, though.

“Thank you,” Louis finally says.

“Of course,” Perry says.

Louis did say to Harry that Perry acted like more of a father than his own father did, but he didn’t expect the conversation to go the way it did. He hasn’t expected any part of his time here to play out so wholesomely. He planned to march in here, give his mum a piece of his mind, wreck a little havoc and head home. Now he sort of doesn’t want to leave.

And maybe, once the wedding is off, he and Harry can even come back. He’ll see what Harry thinks about that.

Back on the main floor, Louis follows Harry’s scent down one corridor and then a next. He passes a few children on the way who stop him and ask him to come play. He promises them he will in a bit. He hears Harry’s voice when he turns down the next corridor, as well as his mum’s, and he has no time to mentally complain about what a maze the house is or how long it’s taken to reach him because then, he really hears them.

“Isn’t that what it means to care about someone?” Harry says. “To not ask them to blow their whole life up for you? I don’t need that.”

Louis hasn’t stopped his approach, although his steps slow. His feet turn leaden.

“You don’t think the future you could have with him is worth it?” Lucia asks.

“I’ve seen the future I have with him,” Harry says. “We have young children. Two daughters. Ivy and Lucy. And then I die and he’s left to raise them on his own. And I don’t want that for him. Do you?”

All the air leaves Louis. He can’t form another thought. He’s never been one to run from confrontation, but he can’t think of what to say or do in response to this. All the formal and societal education he’s received in countries across Europe could never prepare him for this. In fact, he feels like he’s never learned a thing. He’s a child again, confounded by the ways of others. He’d like to say he understands Harry better than anyone, but in the moment Harry especially confounds him.

Louis’ mum calls to him because she’s picked up his scent or heard the quickening of his heart. Either way, he has no choice but to step into the open. His head is utterly empty. When he looks at Harry, he feels nothing. He’s empty. He can’t conduct his thoughts into emotions yet. He’s terrified to even try.

“You might as well finish your thought,” Louis says once his mother is gone.

Harry’s heart has started thundering double-time. He draws a breath. “I didn’t see the point in mentioning it to you,” he says. “It’s just unnecessary sadness.”

It’s difficult for Louis to get any closer with how heavy his feet still feel. Every step is a struggle. “You’ve seen our children in some version of the future and you didn’t think to tell me?” he asks. “You think of our children as unnecessary sadness?”

“No. That’s not what I mean,” Harry says. “There’s only one version of the future. If we choose to be together, there are children involved. Two girls. And they’re beautiful and perfect. But they depend on us both and then one day I die in front of them. The person in the dream last summer was you. I've seen it more than once now. That’s just what happens.”

Louis lets that sink in and when it does, he realises he should’ve known. He remembers Harry’s dream from last summer. Now that they’re together, now that Harry has claimed he wants to be with him, the logical conclusion is that the person Harry saw in his dream kneeling over his body was Louis. The little girl with them was theirs. And there’s another little girl inside the house that’s theirs too.

“You could have told me,” Louis says.

“Why?”

Louis widens his eyes. “Because we’re not meant to keep secrets from one another. We’re meant to do this together.”

“You’re not hearing me,” Harry says. “We don’t get a happy ending together, we don’t. Our children don’t.”

Louis’ jaw locks. He feels old remnants of their rivalry rearing up. Because he’s not the foolish one here and he won’t be made to feel like one. “The world doesn’t end because a child loses a parent,” he says. “We’re proof of that.”

“Not entirely. But that’s mostly ‘cause we had each other.”

“So your mum wasn’t enough for you? She didn’t do her best? You’re saying I’d be hopeless raising two kids on my own?”

“I’m not saying any of that. I know my mum did her best. I also know she’s only just dating someone now ‘cause she sacrificed all her time and energy to keep us happy. I know none of that made me miss my dad any less. It didn’t make me forget how abandoned I felt, how distant he was in his last years. I don’t want that. You don’t want that. That’s what I’m saying to you. Why would you want a future where we just count down the days or years until I’m gone?”

Maybe Louis is the fool. Because here he’s been, preparing himself to suffer with Harry and to make the most of that suffering when Harry never intended to do the same. Here he’s been, believing the suffering would be worth it for all the joy they could also have. He never saw this coming, so surely the foolish one is clear. “What’s all this been the last few days if you don’t want this?” Louis asks. “Did it mean anything at all when I said I love you?”

“It meant everything.”

“Prove it!” Louis says. “I’m in love with you. I want to be with you. Fuck everything else.”

Harry bites hard on his bottom lip. “You haven’t thought it through. You never—”

Louis laughs, mostly at the absurdity of it all, but partly at himself. “You think I’m an idiot or what?”

“No, I think you never think things through,” Harry says. And then he proceeds to display how thoroughly he’s thought it all through. He’s thought about Louis’ siblings and Louis’ mum. He’s thought about the daughters they could have. He’s thought about the past, the present and the future. And all it amounts to is this:

He doesn’t love him enough. He doesn’t want him enough. He doesn’t think Louis is enough.

At the risk of crying or screaming until his vocal chords implode, Louis shoves Harry into the bookshelf. Controlling his strength is a feat, but he manages. It’s almost like they’re back in the snowy woods at Arrochar. Almost. Harry will never be Louis’ enemy again. Louis loves him too much for that. So he'll never be compelled to fight Harry. But he feels almost as angry as he did then and just as betrayed. It’s true that Harry knows how to hurt him better than anyone, but suddenly Louis doesn't know what any of that pain amounts to. He's better off without it.

“I wish I’d grown up here after all," Louis realises. "Should never have met you.”

“Louis—“

“I said, fuck you," Louis says. "You want us done? We’re done.”

He leaves the room without another word. He leaves the house. He doesn't stop walking until he’s reached the end of the road and here, he sinks down onto the grass. He puts his head in his hands and it’s not so much that he lets himself cry. But like that time in Edinburgh, after weeks or months of fighting it off, there’s simply no fight left.

#i probably could've edited this more idk #i just feel like posting something #i have another one that maybe i'll tidy up and post this weekend #sel #the school of extraordinary lovers #stylinsoncity

41 notes · View notes