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Harry knows about rumours. He deals with rumours a lot. Some of them are quite harsh, to be honest. Rumours hurt. But if there’s any single rumour that Harry thinks is absolutely, downright unfair, it’s the rumour that vampires have no reflection.
Harry has a fucking ace reflection.
He’s admiring it one morning in the bathroom of the tour bus, while the other boys are deliciously asleep. Not that Harry would eat them, of course. He’s not a savage. (It’s another little-known truth that vampires are perfectly capable of sustaining themselves on normal kinds of foods, most of the time.)
Eating them out, though, is another matter entirely. Harry smirks. He would quite enjoy that.
But back onto the matter of Harry’s reflection. It’s nice. Bright eyes, curls, creamy complexion and a fit body. Huge cock, too. All in all, he’s looking quite good for someone who could possibly (though problematically, Harry insists) be defined as undead.
Which is why he’s shocked, worried and a little offended when Louis barges into the bathroom, takes one look at him and faints.
-
Louis is fine. He’s fine so he says, and so Paul affirms. They’ve gathered around him in the lounge near the back of the bus, and Louis is determinedly brushing off any concern from Harry and the other boys. Paul says that he hasn’t got a temperature and his collapse was just from exhaustion – exhaustion, good gravy, humans are fragile little things – and that he’ll be fine. When Paul asks Louis if he still wants to go to meet the fans later on, Louis says yes immediately. That settles it. Paul ruffles Louis’ hair and tells the other boys to take care of him, and then he’s gone and everyone goes back to getting ready for the day.
Harry, though, is having a bit of a problem with this.
There’s one vague rumour about vampires that is, you see, based on utter truth. It’s the fucking protectiveness. Harry can feel it in his chest already, this panging ache to be close to Louis; to keep him safe from harm. It’s a strong emotion and his fingers are tingling with it, pulling him in Louis’ direction. Before he’s completely aware of it, he’s curling up on Louis’ bed as the boy changes there and leaning in close, close; sniffing at his neck to ascertain his wellbeing through his scent.
Louis gives a light scoff. “Harry, I’m fine.”
But Harry’s too far gone by now. Louis’ breath wafts past Harry’s nose, making his heart flutter and his eyelids feel heavy. At this point Harry has two options – drape himself around Louis or burst into tears.
He goes with the former.
Harry slings him arms around Louis’ shoulders and pretty much flops onto him, nuzzling his head into Louis’ neck and smiling widely as he breathes in Louis’ scent. Much better. This is nice. Louis will be okay now. Louis won’t have to go to any signings and they can just sit here and they can –
“Harry, what the hell?!”
Louis is out of his arms in an instant. He huffs as he darts away from Harry, stopping to twirl and glare at him once he’s out of reach.
Harry purses his lips together, eyes wide and apologetic. In his haze, Harry had forgotten a bit of a detail. He’d forgotten that Louis hates being coddled when he’s not feeling well. (It makes him nervous for some odd reason that Harry doesn’t understand – Harry himself loves being coddled.) It’s alright – he usually lets himself be taken care of eventually. He even likes it, once he does. It just takes him a while to allow it; a little while to warm up to it, is all. He needs time to adjust to the idea that he’s not invincible, or something like that. It makes it hard when Harry’s immediate instinct is to cuddle, but Harry knows. Their usual routine goes like this: Louis keeps to himself for a few hours, and then he lets his guard down. If he’s feeling shy he’ll whine a bit and hope that Harry gets the message (Harry always does) and if he’s a bit braver, he’ll come right up and wriggle under Harry’s arm and Harry will hold him closely and that will be that.
Harry just has to try and control his urge to cling until then.
So Harry holds his hands up and Louis sighs a little, letting his tense shoulders relax. He puffs a little laugh and Harry grins, and once Louis is dressed they go into the kitchen.
Harry cooks up an awesome batch of pancakes, only baring his fangs at Niall once when the boy grabs his spatula. Niall cackles and skips back to the table, a bit of pancake hanging from his mouth.
Louis blinks a little dizzily at the sight. Harry is at his side immediately, feeling Louis’ forehead with his hand and gnashing his teeth at Zayn when the jerk laughs at him.
Louis groans, pushing Harry lightly away. “Harry, stop. ‘M fine. Let me be.”
Harry nibbles his lips indecisively and casts a querying look to Liam. Liam looks equally as worried, but shrugs. There’s nothing they can do. Harry plants a quick kiss on Louis’ head because he’s a vampire and he has to, and then he goes back to their breakfast, resisting the longing to scoop Louis up and whisk him away.
-
They go to do a short radio interview and afterwards there are a small group of fans waiting to meet them in the courtyard. It’s relatively uncrowded and relaxed, so they can chat with the fans and have fun for a bit. Harry would normally be entertaining the fans, but right now he’s got his eye on one girl who is waving a cake with Louis’ face on it in Louis’ – well, in Louis’ face.
“Look!” she’s saying enthusiastically, pointing at the wavy black lines that are meant to be Louis’ eyelashes (they look more like spiders, and both the chef and the Louis fan in Harry are totally enraged). “Look, I got your eyes, and your nose, and your nostrils, and your bum, and I even added your fringe because I don’t like your quiff!”
Louis sways backwards with the force of her voice.
That’s enough for Harry. He hurries over – probably seeming to appear out of nowhere to their human eyes – and steps in between Louis and the girl. He leans down at her, smiling faux-sweetly while the sky above them darkens. And then he snarls. He snarls at her with all the vampiric wrath he possesses (which is, in actuality, quite a lot). His teeth shine, and somewhere in the distance lightning flashes. Thunder rolls. She screams in fright and runs away.
When Harry has calmed down, Louis is pinching the bridge of his nose.
Harry turns and pokes him gently, immediately feeling contrite. “Lou?”
Louis sighs and lets his hand drop. “Harold.” His stare is stony.
Harry’s shoulders shoot up in panic. “She was being rude to you –”
“I’m sure she meant well!”
“I’m sorry, I know I got carried away but I just wanted to protect you –”
“I’m more than capable of handling myself!”
“I can’t really help wanting to look out for you –”
“For fuck’s sake Harry, you can’t just go around being a vampire to people!”
Harry withdraws, stung. It’s just – he gets it. He gets that people don’t like vampires. He gets that Louis doesn’t like that he’s a vampire, what with the way Louis is looking at him now. Harry only wants to be accepted for who he is; that’s all he wants, that’s all he ever wants. And it hurts when he’s not but he gets that it’s hard for people. It’s just – it hurts, especially, when it’s Louis. When Louis is the one glaring at him like he’s some kind of, some kind of monster.
Louis’ mouth has fallen into that little ‘o’ shape like it does when he’s said something he doesn’t mean. Harry is already blind to it though, he’s blind to the world through his thick, stinging tears. He stumbles backwards and turns away, avoiding everyone and rounding the corner to duck into a little alcove. Once there, he turns into a bat and flies away.
To his bat senses Louis’ cries of “Harry!” sound very different, but everything hurts exactly the same.
-
When Harry gets back to the bus he clings to a bar on the ceiling for a while, just swinging there. It’s soothing. Coffins are more soothing and in general much better for sulking in. But management really put their foot down when Harry asked for a coffin on the tour bus, so this will have to do.
He’s stretching out his wings when Louis clambers onto the bus.
“Harry?” Louis calls, knowing he’s in here. It’s unnecessary – they both know Louis is going to find him. “Where are you, love? Harry, don’t hide.”
Harry chatters a little at that and Louis looks immediately towards the batty sound, seeing Harry curled up in the corner. He comes over and smiles up at Harry in a way that he shouldn’t. It’s too cute and it’s really unfair. “Babe, can you come down from there?”
Harry reluctantly flaps down onto his bed, chattering miserably as Louis sits beside him. Louis looks down and strokes his head gently. “Can I see those curls?”
Harry puffs back into human form, because even though Louis abhors him he can’t deny Louis anything, ever. It’s pathetic, really. He slouches and sniffles a bit.
Louis wraps a tentative arm around him. “I’m sorry for what I said. So sorry. You know I love you.”
Harry wipes his face. “But you hate that I’m a vampire.”
“I don’t.” Louis gazes at Harry very seriously, until Harry can’t help but look at him. “Harry, I don’t. I love your little vampirisms. Your fangs and your cuddles and your occasional protectiveness. I love everything about you. I didn’t mean what I said, I promise. So please don’t think on it for one little bit.”
Harry bites his lip, still unsure. So Louis leans forward and presses a light kiss to his lips, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair. It’s sweet and reassuring, much like the touches Harry gives him, always like the way they treat each other when one is feeling low. Harry senses, then, that it’s exactly the same – that his vampire habits make no difference to Louis, none. Louis takes it all in stride; accepts and loves each bit of him as it comes and that’s – that’s maybe everything.
Harry leans into it and they kiss lazily for a while until Louis breaks it off, catching his breath and giggling. He pushes Harry down onto the bed and leans his head against his chest, snuggling into him. Harry cards his fingers through his hair. “Where are the others?”
Louis snorts. “Playing handball with some fans they met. One girl ate a piece of chicken and burped the whole alphabet. Niall said he was going to marry her.”
Harry giggles. “You want to go back and join them?”
Louis hesitates, tracing patterns on Harry’s chest. “No,” he admits, hugging Harry a bit tighter before resorting to sighing dramatically. “Can we just lay here and cuddle for a bit? You heard Paul this morning, I’m exhausted.”
Harry beams and nuzzles into Louis shoulder, feeling all the day’s anxieties subside. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Louis hums in agreement and pulls the blankets over them. Harry can feel him smile against his side. His heart flutters in something like relief because he’s loved and wanted, and Louis is happy and safe.
And he knows that humans are fragile little things. But maybe vampires are fragile things, too.