A/N: This chapter is dedicated to @champxynepapi for being a regular reader and voter/commenter. Thank you for the support!

I'm glad I got this chapter done early. My friends put me in charge of our annual New Year's gathering even though I can't plan a party to save my life, so I have less time to write this week than I thought.

I've also been reading this book called A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, which is insanely good. I'm obsessed with it. It brings me nothing but pain but I love it more than anything. It's devastating and beautiful and you should all read it. /rant

Okay, this chapter picks up right at the end of last week's chapter. Harry is en route to Louis' hotel!!!!! It's all in Harry's POV.

HARRY

I held my breath almost the entire ride to Manhattan, pressing my damp forehead against the window, watching my breath fog up the glass. Streetlights zipped past like fireflies and the moon was full, hanging so low in the night sky if felt like we might crash right into it. Every day with Darby was marked by joyful normalcy and taking pleasure in the little things, but having Louis here was like a fever dream and I never wanted to wake up.

I popped the collar on my jacket and hid my face as best I could heading into the hotel. I thought someone in the lobby might have recognized me but I managed to scurry past undetected.

I leaned across the front desk and whispered to the concierge, a neatly pressed brunette with a high bun, "I'm here to see one of your guests."

"Name please?"

"Louis Tomlinson." I said under my breath.

"And your name?"

"Harry."

"You're full name," she retorted in a clipped tone.

"Harry Styles."

Her eyes flew up at me with a flicker of recognition.

"Can you be discreet?" I added.

"Of course, Sir," she said kindly, lowering her voice, pretending not to know who I was as she rang his room.

"Mr. Tomlinson, Harry Styles is here to see you. May I send him up?"

I could hear Louis' raspy voice yelling through the receiver from where I was standing all the way across the desk.

The concierge blushed and put down the phone. "He'd like to see you immediately, Mr. Styles."

I smiled in spite of myself. "Thank you. What room?"

She gasped a little as she looked at her computer. "He's in the Ty Warner Penthouse."

Leave it to Louis to stay in the most expensive suite in the entire hotel. I guess when he wasn't spoiling me he was happily spoiling himself.

I got in the mirrored elevator and examined my reflection. My hair looked flat. I shook my head forward and flipped it back and off to the side. I undid and redid a button on my silk shirt, undecidedly. I pursed my lips and shifted from one skinny leg to the other. Were the sparkly boots a bit much? No, I looked fine. I tapped my foot nervously. I couldn't help but think of the thousands of trips I'd made up to Louis' hotel room over the years when we were on tour, when we were teenagers, with too many hormones and too much money. I could never get enough of him and he could never get enough of me. Now like then, every second in that elevator felt like agony until I could be alone with him in the sanctuary of his room.

I stepped out into the quiet carpeted corridor, palms sweating, and padded my way over to his suite. His feathery head popped out of the doorway before I approached.

Seeing him sent a thrill through my body. I hurried down the hall to join him. He pulled me inside by my hand and swiftly closed the door behind me. He'd already showered for bed. His skin was rosy and he had no product in his hair—it hung loosely in his eyes. But he was dressed in a suit. He wore it for me. He wanted to look nice for me.

I waited for him to say something and he waited for me to say something.

"Can we talk?" I blurted out finally.

Silently he led me to the couch. The suite was unbelievable. It had 360-degree views of Manhattan through floor-to-ceiling windows and a grand piano. It was also filthy, littered with ashtrays and empty bottles and hand half-drunk glasses of champagne.

"Sorry, Eleanor's staying with me. She's a bloody hurricane." His shaking hands cleared the glasses and stray buds off the coffee table. "She isn't here now, though. She's out for the night."

I sat down and so did Louis after he finished tidying up. He seemed so nervous and serious. I was glad that he was serious. Right now I needed Louis the friend, not Louis the lover.

"I don't think I can go through with the wedding," I said, shocked by the words as they tumbled out of my mouth. It didn't seem real until I said it out loud. "I was so sure before and now I'm not sure about anything."

"How do you feel?" he asked carefully.

"Scared. I'm scared of ending it but I'm also scared of going through with it."

"Tell me your fears."

I picked at the frayed knees of my black jeans. "I'm afraid I'm making a huge mistake. I'm afraid that I'll regret it... I'm afraid I might be in love with somebody else."

My coyness usually frustrated him, but he remained patient with me.

"Who do you love more?"

I looked up at him slowly, my wet lashes beating heavily against my cheeks. "You."

Relief, happiness and surprise flooded Louis face. I couldn't tell if he was about to cry or scream. He gathered me up in his arms and kissed me chastely on my head. "Harry, I love you too! Oh God, I love you so much! My boy, my sweet, sweet, boy..."

"What do I do?" I said, panicking, as the harsh reality of my situation suddenly came into focus. "What will I tell her? Where will I go? How will I face everyone?"

"Don't worry." He kissed my hand. "You'll tell her tonight. Let me worry about everyone else. Then we'll fly to London. You'll stay with me, obviously!"

I was lightheaded, giddy at the prospect. It seemed insane to me now that I thought I could be with anyone who wasn't Louis. I wasn't just in love with him: he was a part of me. He knew me, he really, truly, knew me. We grew up together, became men together, our identities twisted around one another like the roots of a tree. No matter how content I was with anyone else, nothing could change the fact that Louis was home.

"I'll protect you, Harry. Nobody will bother you, not the press, friends, family, nobody."

I buried my face in the crook of his neck feeling calm and safe. I knew everything would be okay as long as I had Louis, but it was such a huge change and everything was happening so fast. My head was struggling to catch up to my heart.

"What will I do in London? My life is here."

Louis turned to me fondly. "I'll share my life with you."

What a lovely thing to say! Louis could be so lovely. We lay back on the couch, our legs tangled together as he described in vivid detail his life in London. I carded a hand through his soft caramel-colored waves and watched his crinkled blue eyes as he spoke.

"I'll have to reintroduce you to the city. It's changed so much. I'll take you to all the best new restaurants. You'll love Piquet and Hoppers. Don't bother with Il Cudega, no matter what Zayn tells you. It's rubbish."

"Will you take me to Zafferano?"

"Oh God, Harry, nobody goes to Zafferano anymore! See, this is exactly why you need me," he went on animatedly. "And you must come visit Modest. We're in Old Billingsgate now. I have a corner office that overlooks the Thames."

"Have you ever shagged anyone in your office?"

He blinked.

"That's a yes."

"I'll shag you in my office!" He tickled me.

As Louis regaled me with stories about his eccentric colleagues and his cast of colorful new friends, we laughed, exchanged furtive glances, and light touches on the thigh that we pretended were casual but were loaded with meaning and promise.

Then he described his flat in Primrose Hill. "I decorated it myself—so, it's basically just some leather couches and a Playstation—but it has a stone fireplace and those French doors you like so much. Zayn painted a mural in the living area. He has a room. He stays with me when he's in London."

I must have been pouting because Louis smoothed the worry lines from my brow with his thumb.

"But you can do whatever you like with it, Harry. It's yours now. Everything I have belongs to you."

"All I want is you."

Louis kissed my mouth. "You're all I want." He lifted my chin. His expression was hungry. "When can I... have you?"

"After I end it with Darby." The thought was so painful my chest tightened. How on Earth would I even begin that conversation? What would I say? What could I say? What I was about to tell her was horrible, inexcusable, but I knew that the sooner I did it the better it would be for all of us.

Louis nodded solemnly and checked his watch. It was late, almost two in the morning. "You should go now."

I put my jacket on and he led me to the door, his hand fixed possessively on my hip. "Don't forget to pack a bag. I'll send for the rest of your things when we get to London."

I took a deep breath. "I'll see you soon."

"Should I come with you?"

"No, I need to do this alone."

"Come straight back to the hotel."

I nodded. "Bye."

He kissed me. "Bye."

We kissed again.

"I'm going now."

We were still kissing.

I went to grab the doorknob but my fingers slipped and somehow found their way into Louis' hair.

He slammed my back against the door, his lips moving hungrily against mine, his tongue lashing into my mouth, hands creeping down the back of my pants. "You really should go, Harry!"

"Yeah," I agreed. But neither of us stopped.

We kept trying and failing to open the door until we both gave up and clumsily kissed our way back into the suite and then to the bedroom.

"We shouldn't be doing this now," I gasped. "We're so stupid."

"I know!" he replied gleefully.

Louis pulled off my jacket and my shirt. I didn't even remember him undoing the buttons on my shirt. Fuck. Louis treated me like a present on Christmas morning, tearing off my clothes as quickly as he could without thinking. It was such a fucking turn on but he forgot that he was my present! I wanted to unwrap him! We wrestled heatedly by the bed and he quickly overpowered me laying me flat on my back, prying my thighs apart with his knees as he nestled his body between them. "Can I keep going?"

"Wait!" I growled, to his surprise. I got up and slowly pulled his shirt over his head letting my hands wander across his chest and back. I wanted to slow down, stop time, savor every inch of him. Louis' skin was golden and his muscles hard. When we were teens, I was pale, soft and shapeless but Louis' body, like his personality, was always sharply defined. He always knew exactly who he was. He knew he was in love with me before I even knew what love was. After we broke up, he knew we were still in love and always would be. He was always one step ahead of me. Always.

I kneeled in front of him. "I love your body," I said, embarrassed by my honesty. I didn't exactly have a way with words.

But Louis delighted in anything I said and grinned at me madly, bursting with lust and affection. "Good."

I struggled to undo his pants. My hands were trembling. I buried my face in his crotch in the meantime. "Fuck, Harry," he moaned running a hand through my long curls and pushing himself into my face as I kissed and nuzzled him. "Oh god, you want it so badly, don't you?" I felt my own groin twist in excitement. This was pleasure bordering on pain. I gripped his thighs to hold him steady but he leaned back bucking his hips wildly until he couldn't take anymore.

"Come here," he said firmly, pulling me up to lie beside him. "My boy," he cooed in my ear, sending a shiver of pleasure through my whole body.

"Your good boy," I corrected, sexily.

"Yes, you are."

I had a praise kink. I never shared this with Darby or anyone except Louis. Actually, I think Louis was the one who made me this way. When we first started hooking up I was self-conscience because I'd never been with a boy before and he would praise everything I did over and over again to reassure me that I was doing good. It was so hot and sounded especially filthy coming from him, as most things did. Louis was the architect of all my deepest darkest pleasures.

Louis' powerful thighs straddled my chest. "You're so pretty, Harry. Prettier than how I remembered you. How did you get even prettier? How's that possible?" He pinned my hands down and began kissing me roughly all over. It felt too good. I tried meekly to wriggle free against him. He pressed down harder, like the weight of a rolling ocean. I was drowning in him. The pillows, the sheets, everything smelled like Louis. When he finally let go of my hands to slide down my pants, I lay perfectly still.

With all my clothes off, his eyes were alight with a passion I had never seen on any human face before. It terrified me. It was a passion you got lost in, one that you would do virtually anything for. No one had ever looked at me the way that Louis did and I knew that no one ever would.

He turned me over onto my stomach with only the gentlest of nudges and I whimpered with anticipation. His mouth grazed the back of my neck, between my shoulder blades, down to the small of my back, kissing the base of my spine.

"Louis," I sighed.

Part of me wanted this exploratory kissing, this rediscovery of each other, to go on forever but another part of me was screaming, now, now, now! I need you inside me now! Louis knew me. He understood what I needed without me telling him. He grabbed a pillow and slid it under my stomach, propping my hips up. I heard the rustling of him removing his own pants. Then I felt his hot breath on the back of my thighs. I was trembling terribly but ready. I was ready and willing for anything he might do to me. Our bodies' actions and reactions felt as inevitable as the moon and the tide.

"Thank you," he said suddenly, his voice filled with reverence. "Thank you for choosing me, Harry."

I buried my face in the pillow. I wanted to say something really romantic back but I was afraid I would start crying and ruin everything. I wouldn't risk ruining this moment for the world. I wanted Louis to have me. I wanted to give myself to him completely.

But before he could touch me again, he stopped. There was the faint rumble of a football chant in the background.

"What is that?" I breathed.

"My phone. Ignore it," he said.

But I couldn't. As soon as the song ended it would start up again. I didn't know why but it made me nervous, like someone else was in the room watching us. I wrestled my way over to the nightstand to shut off his phone or at least silence it. The name I saw on the screen was one I never expected to see on his phone, not in a million years.

"Kitty?"

It didn't make sense. Kitty was the last person on Earth that Louis would ever speak to. She was the reason for all the late night arguments, the battles with management, the mistrust, the accusations, the tears. She was the reason Louis did the terrible thing he did. She was the reason we broke up. And yet, here she was, years later, on his phone.

"Why are you in touch with Kitty?"

Louis was silent. I wanted to believe that perhaps Kitty was thinking of switching managers. Louis was a manager now; it wasn't so far off the mark to think that he might want her in his stable of clients, though even that made little sense. He still held a grudge against her for her part in our arrangement and he always put his grudges before work, even if it went against his own self-interest.

I thought back to Kitty at the bachelor party. The lads were careful. How did she find out about the party? Why would she come? And why would she allow those photos to get out there when her bland public persona was meticulously maintained? I searched Louis' face.

"Harry. Put down the phone."

He leapt at me and I deftly moved my arm just out of reach. It was still ringing in my hand. I covered myself with the blanket and answered it.

Louis hung his head.

"I just got off a conference call with my team and they said your new act isn't on board with the collab," Kitty screeched. "I thought we had a deal, Tomlinson? Tell me I didn't go from being America's sweetheart to America's home wrecking slut for nothing?"

I breathed on the other end, unable to speak.

"Hello. Earth to Tomlinson. Fix this. You owe me."

The phone fell from my hand.

"Harry," Louis said softly, avoiding eye contact.

"Why do you owe her?"

"It's not as bad as it seems."

"It was you, wasn't it? Not Baron. You took the photo of me and Kitty at the bachelor party and fed the story to The Sun."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Are you actually going to sit there and lie to me?"

"Harry, please. Don't ruin this."

I stood up and put my clothes back on. The thought of Darby's pain-stricken face at the sight of those tabloids, those lies, made my stomach churn.

"You ruined this, Louis! Just like you ruined our relationship last time." I wanted to scream in his face but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I felt so disgusted. Violated. "Do you have any idea what you put me through? What you put Darby through?"

"You have to understand, I did it for us."

"You used to loath those rags and you served me up to them like I'm trash. I should have known. You are Modest through-and-through."

He covered his face with his hands. "I was desperate! What fucking choice did I have? You were actually going to go ahead with that sham marriage. Your relationship with her is based on nothing but lies. I had to do something!"

"You're wrong, Louis. Darby has never lied to me. Not once. You're the liar. This," I motioned to the space between us, "is the biggest lie of all."

I thought I heard him weep but I refused to look at him. I wasn't going to be duped again.

"I can't believe I almost fell for this. I almost gave up Darby, my best friend, the person I trust most in this world."

"Trust, not love," Louis hissed.

"In healthy, adult relationships, trust and love are one and the same."

"You sound like your father."

"My father was right about you."

This finished Louis. The shame was too much. He got on his knees. "Please, Harry, you have to forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. You don't belong with her, you belong with me!"

I was buttoning my shirt. My fingers couldn't move fast enough.

"You're always telling me how much you want to protect me, but do you want to hear the funny thing, Louis? You're the only person who's ever really hurt me! You're the one I need protection from! What you've done is worse than anything Judith ever did to us. That was business. This is personal. You did this to me, someone you supposedly love. It's sick!"

Louis collapsed onto himself. "I fucked up, I know. I'm sorry. Please don't go! Please don't leave me! Not again. I can't bear it!"

My mind was already miles away, as far away from Louis as it could be. It was in my humble flat with Darby and her snowy hair fanned out on our down pillows, dreaming about the next morning, the day she would be, not just my best friend, but also my wife.

A/N: The wedding is back on. Sorry. Please don't kill me. (I'm looking at you @larryslittlest )

And don't panic! The darkest hour is just before the dawn.

Did you guys guess early on that Louis was behind the Kitty/Harry photo leak? Were you surprised?

I know Louis seems really evil but I think he redeems himself in the next two chapters.

Next week, for the first time, I'm posting a chapter featuring just Louis and Darby. It's the interview. You guys probably prefer romantic stuff with Harry (who doesn't!) but I'm hoping you will find D & L's dynamic interesting. It's a big turning point for Louis' character.

Thank you for reading this chapter and my long a/n's!

Happy New Year!