This is what Louis looks like in my head for this book btw.

5k chapter! Enjoy <3

Follow me :)

400/40!

When Harry reached the car, Louis sat stiffly in the passenger seat, eyes focused intently out the window. Harry slid into the driver's seat, glancing at Louis who was avoiding his gaze entirely. That coldness, that distance, was almost tangible. His hands fidgeted nervously in his lap.

Harry broke the silence, voice light but dripping with amusement. "Oh, so we're really doing this, huh?"

Louis swallowed and kept his eyes trained on the window, refusing to acknowledge him. "Just drive," he muttered.

But Harry could see through him. The way Louis held himself—tense, trying to suppress something. It only made Harry grin.

Harry chuckled softly, starting the car. He couldn't help himself, glancing over with a smirk. "You've gone all quiet on me now, baby. What happened to that sharp tongue of yours?"

Louis kept his eyes firmly on the passing road, willing himself not to show the heat rushing up his neck.

"Oh, I get it," Harry said with that low, almost amused voice. "You're being all mysterious now?" he smirked, pulling onto the road. "Well, guess I'll have to do the talking then, huh?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, don't be shy now," Harry teased, his voice smooth but laced with that same mocking amusement. "You kissed me, remember?"

Louis coughed awkwardly, trying to stay cool. "Never again."

Harry laughed, genuinely enjoying the situation. "Never again, huh?" His grin turned a little smug as he glanced at Louis, his voice dropping a little lower. "Thought you liked it, sweetheart."

Louis groaned, now visibly flushed with frustration. "You're the one who keeps going on about it. Maybe you liked it."

Harry's smirk grew, too wide, too satisfied. "Maybe I did," he replied casually, a hint of amusement still trailing in his voice. "You were the perfect amount of nee-"

"Shut up!" Louis quickly interrupted, his voice cracking slightly in his embarrassment, his fingers gripping the seat tighter. His face burned. He quickly reached for the radio, trying to distract himself, his fingers fumbling over the buttons.

But the static from the radio only made things worse. It buzzed in a weird crackly mess. Louis made a frustrated noise and tried to turn the dial, hoping for something—anything else.

Harry's eyes twinkled with smug amusement. "Trying to drown me out, baby?"

Louis' face twisted in distaste as he glared at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Don't call me that."

Harry chuckled. "Why not? C'mon, talk to me."

Louis finally managed to find a radio channel that was working. He turned the music up loud. Harry rolled his eyes, switching it off.

"Harry-" Louis cut himself off.

Harry grinned, turning to look at him. "Yes, sweetheart?"

Louis' face burned a deeper shade of red as he pulled at the seatbelt awkwardly, suddenly too aware of everything.

"Oh, it really got you that worked up, huh?" Harry muttered, obviously proud. "Don't be so shy about it," he said, this time his voice softer, almost affectionate. "You were so good for me."

Louis froze, his stomach suddenly twisting at the praise. He tried to brush it off with a scoff but his pulse hammered in his ears, making him even more aware of Harry's closeness. "I-I wasn't good for you." His voice came out strangled, the words just tumbling out.

Harry leaned back slightly in his seat, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on Louis. "Oh, darling, don't sell yourself short. You were perfect."

Louis shot him a sharp, embarrassed glare but couldn't suppress the way the praise made his skin prickle. He muttered under his breath, still not looking at Harry, "Stop."

Harry just chuckled, rolling his shoulders casually. "Tell me again you didn't like it. I'm dying to hear this one."

Louis could barely hold himself together. "Do you have anything else to talk about?" he managed, still not daring to look at Harry.

"Oh, I've got plenty to say," Harry responded smoothly. He leaned back in his seat, breaking the quiet with a wickedly sweet tone. "But I was thinking... maybe you could kiss me again, clear your head?" He said it casually but the undertone was almost too playful.

Louis tensed for a moment, his heart skipping a beat at the suggestion. His fingers gripped the seat; he still didn't look at Harry. "Ew," he mumbled, turning his head toward the window. "Never."

He was losing it, not able to separate himself from whatever kind of game Harry was playing. His mind was screaming at him not to think about it, not to look at Harry, not to think about his loaded gaze, his lips—

"You're thinking about kissing me again, aren't you?" Harry's voice cut through Louis' frantic thoughts.

"No!" Louis snapped quickly, trying his hardest not to let the blush creeping up his neck show.

Harry's grin widened, knowing full well he had Louis right where he wanted him. "Mm, well, I'm thinking about kissing you."

Louis went silent, trying to control his breathing, trying to ignore how the idea was suddenly so... appealing. His face was bright red now, even though he desperately wanted to look away. He clenched his fists, mentally chanting that he couldn't kiss Harry, that this—whatever it was—had to stop.

"Oh, don't go blushing for me," Harry's voice was a soft teasing tone as he shifted in his seat, obviously enjoying every second of Louis' reaction. "I'm flattered."

"Please stop," Louis whispered.

"Stop?" Harry teased again. "Really? Because I think you liked it, sweetheart. You're just too shy to admit it. It's adorable really."

Louis' skin felt too tight. "I didn't—"

"Yeah, you did." Harry's voice was quiet, almost knowing, and his smirk deepened. His teasing smile lingered but his gaze shifted briefly to the road ahead, the usual sharpness in his eyes giving way to something more thoughtful. "You don't regret it, do you?"

The question hung in the air, heavier than the banter that had come before it. Louis hesitated, his lips parting as though to fire back some biting retort. But then his shoulders eased just slightly, the tension in his jaw softening.

"No," Louis murmured finally, his voice so quiet it barely reached Harry over the hum of the car's engine. He glanced out the window again, heat creeping up the back of his neck. "I don't."

Harry's smirk melted into something real. He turned his attention back to the road. "Good," he muttered just as quietly, almost to himself. His fingers went to the radio dial, turning the music back on.

Louis bit his lip, glancing at the window as if it would somehow save him from the impossible tension now hanging between them.

They'd been enemies, they had crossed paths countless times, always with walls between them. Now, after these last few days, everything felt different. Louis wasn't sure what any of it meant, and that uncertainty gnawed at him.

Harry glanced at Louis briefly. It was as if he could hear the thoughts churning in his mind. "So," he drawled. "If I kissed you again, what would you do?"

Louis' head snapped to Harry. He swallowed, his throat dry. "I— I'd punch you, that's what."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He chuckled low, clearly amused. "I think you'd do more than that. You'd probably kiss me back."

Louis groaned loudly. "Oh, shut up," he hissed, turning the volume up.

The music subdued Harry's low chuckle as they carried on down the highway.

***

The soft hum of the car rolling to a stop stirred Louis from his sleep. His lashes fluttered, blue eyes barely slitting open as he shifted against the seat, letting out the faintest, drowsy sigh. His face was slack with exhaustion, eyes barely blinking open as he registered that they'd stopped.

Harry flicked the headlights off but left the engine idling. Harry glanced over at Louis, one hand still on the wheel, the other reaching out without thinking—just to brush his fingers over Louis' thigh, grounding him.

"Stay put, sweetheart," Harry murmured, voice low, warm. "Not going far." His palm resting gently on Louis' thigh, he gave a small squeeze, thumbing the boy's knee.

Louis nodded slightly, his lashes were heavy and dark against his cheeks. Harry couldn't help but take in the way he looked in this rare, unguarded moment—soft, pliant, untouched by the weight of the world for just a second.

Louis made a small, sleepy noise in response, something noncommittal. He didn't pull away from the touch. Harry gave his leg one last slow stroke before cutting the engine and slipping out of the car.

He stretched briefly as he scanned the near-empty station. Dim lights flickered overhead, buzzing like dying flies.

The pump handle was cold in his grip as he unscrewed the car's fuel cap and slotted it into place.  The numbers on the screen climbed steadily; Harry shifted his stance, glancing around the otherwise empty station.

And then came the lights.

Another car pulled into the station, its headlights slicing across the pavement. The sedan parked a couple of pumps over. Harry turned slightly, watching from the corner of his eye. Two figures emerged. A man stepped out first, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark jacket and boots scuffed at the toes. A woman followed from the passenger side, her hair tied back, a loose grey sweatshirt falling to her hips. Neither of them seemed out of place. And yet—something was off.

The pump clicked, signalling the tank was full. Harry capped it and straightened, pulling out his key fob. The soft beep of the locks ensured Louis' safety as Harry headed towards the store. He glanced at Louis through the windscreen; his head rested back against the seat, his body completely relaxed, oblivious, safe.

The gas station was quiet, the kind of eerie silence that only came in the dead hours of the morning. The air-conditioning was too cold, artificial and stale. A single moth fluttered against the flickering sign, its wings tapping softly against the glass. Harry made his way toward the register, grabbing two bottles of water and a chocolate milk.

At the counter, Harry's gaze flicked instinctively toward the wide window at the front of the store. He placed down his items as he watched the two individuals outside.  The man was leaning casually against their car, arms folded as he stared directly towards Harry's car—at Louis. Beside him, the woman stood near the sedan adjusting her sleeve, her posture restless, glancing between the man and the store entrance.

Harry tensed. His hand hovered near his pocket, where the cool weight of his gun rested. He didn't pull it—not yet—but his fingers brushed the grip, ready if necessary. The air seemed thinner now, each detail in sharp focus as he watched them watching Louis.

"Gas?" the cashier asked.

Harry glanced at him. "Number 2," he muttered, handing over a few notes.

Harry's focus returned to the window. The woman said something to the man before turning to the store and advancing towards it. The man followed behind and Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched them pass the car with Louis inside. The man turned his head to take a quick look at Louis before heading to the store.

"Receipt?" the cashier asked, dragging Harry's attention back.

"Keep it," Harry said, his voice even but clipped.

Harry stepped away from the cash desk just as the bell above the door rang, signalling the entrance of the man and woman.

They made brief eye contact with Harry as they entered the store. Harry headed towards the exit and the woman walked by him, closer than necessary—their shoulders brushed as they passed.

"Excuse me," she said as their shoulders brushed, tone neutral.

Harry didn't break stride, his own voice calm but firm. "No problem."

Every muscle in his body stayed tense as he pushed through the door. His gaze flicked to Louis as he reached the car, still slouched in the passenger seat, the faint hint of sleep in his features softening his usual sharp lines.

Harry climbed into the driver's seat, shutting the door softly to avoid jarring Louis from his sleepy haze. Without a word, he reached over and set the items directly onto Louis' lap.

Louis stirred at the weight, blinking his eyes open slowly, the world around him still blurry with the heaviness of sleep. His gaze shifted downward to the items, taking them in for a beat before he looked up at Harry.

His eyes were hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks," he murmured, barely louder than a breath.

Harry's smile curved up in return, warmer and softer than the usual smirk he wore like armour. "You're welcome, sweetheart," he replied, voice low and carrying that same softness.

Louis didn't answer. He just turned his attention back to the bottle, fingers twisting off the cap with slow, sleepy precision before lifting it to his lips.

Harry watched him and Louis didn't even look away this time. His gaze shifted back to Harry as he drank, something about the simplicity of the moment holding them in its grip.

The car felt stiller than it had all night.

Harry let his hand move without thinking, brushing the edge of Louis' hairline as gently as if he'd been working with glass. His fingers grazed the soft strands, brushing Louis' hair across his forehead and letting his fingers linger there for a moment longer.

Louis' reaction was subtle but there—his shoulders softened and his eyes stayed locked on Harry's, half-lidded but quietly acknowledging the gesture. He blinked at him silently, still drinking from the bottle.

"There you go," Harry murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, deep and steady, as his hand retreated. "We'll be there in less than an hour."

Louis swallowed before he replaced the cap of the bottle and placed it down into the empty cupholder. With a soft exhale, he shifted, leaning deeper into the seat and letting his head rest against the edge of the window.

Harry stayed still for a moment, watching the quiet rise and fall of Louis' chest, the even breaths, and the softness that dulled his sharper edges.

And then Harry's attention shifted as his eyes flicked to the store window.

The man and woman were there, standing by the register. Their gazes weren't on the cashier. They were locked on Harry, their heads tilted slightly, their posture unnervingly still. The man's arms folded loosely across his chest while the woman's hand rested against the strap of her bag, their expressions calm yet deliberate. Watching him.

Harry's fingers flexed slightly against the steering wheel as he started the car. The low rumble of the engine broke the tension in his chest as he pulled them out of the station.

As they drove back onto the dark highway, Harry couldn't help one last glance in the rearview mirror. The store's fluorescent lights shrank behind them, the two figures still standing by the window, watching their taillights disappear into the night.

***

The car glided into Gotham's dimly lit streets, the familiar skyline looming above. Harry could feel the exhaustion pulling at him from the long drive but he kept his focus.

He guided the vehicle into the underground garage, the rumble of the engine fading into silence as they came to a stop. He glanced sideways, noting Louis' relaxed posture, a far cry from the tension that had clung to him earlier.

Louis let out a soft sigh. "Finally."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Says the one who spent half the drive sleeping."

A small smile tugged at Louis' lips as he held his hands up in defence. "I did offer to drive."

Harry barked out a laugh, clicking his belt undone. "You also couldn't keep your eyes open for more than five seconds."

Louis huffed, undoing his belt. "That's because you were boring me to death," he replied, opening his door and letting the cool air of Gotham hit his skin.

Harry followed, stepping outside and heading to the trunk. He opened it and gathered both of their bags. He passed a duffle to Louis before shutting the boot of the car.

They entered the penthouse, the luxury of the space enveloping them in warmth. Harry dropped his bag near the couch, rubbing the back of his neck.

Louis, meanwhile, wandered toward the large windows, taking in the city lights. He turned after a moment, grabbing his jacket. "I'm going for a walk."

Harry turned to him, his face screwed in confusion. "Huh?"

Louis shrugged, pulling the jacket snugly around him. "What? Haven't earned the privilege to stretch my legs?"

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's late."

A soft chuckle escaped Louis. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna run off."

Harry's gaze remained fixed on him, something unreadable in his eyes. "It's not that. It's just—"

"I can handle myself," Louis interrupted. "I'm quite the fighter."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Don't I know it," he mused. "Still, it's dark out. Where are you headed?"

Louis shrugged again. "I don't know, just stretching my legs," he replied, heading to the door.

Harry reached for his jacket. "I'll come with you."

Louis raised a brow. "What the whole weekend wasn't enough?" he teased, shaking his head as he eyed Harry. "Don't worry," he added. "I won't be long."

"Louis," Harry drawled, hesitating as his fingers brushed his jacket.

"You're tired," Louis told him. "Stay here, I'll be back soon." He moved toward the door, throwing one last glance over his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

Harry watched him leave, a quiet tension settling in his chest, though he didn't stop him.

***

The chill of the night air greeted Louis as he stepped onto the street, the city's muted hum wrapping around him like an old, familiar friend. He walked with purpose, his steps were steady but his mind was anything but. The events of the past few days swirled within him, a storm of conflicting emotions he couldn't quite sort out.

Harry's face lingered in his thoughts—the smirk, the way his eyes seemed to see through him, the kiss. Louis shook his head, trying to clear the growing heat that rose at the memory. He needed air, space, anything to ground himself. His mind kept circling back to Harry, to the confusing pull that wouldn't let him go.

A sudden noise in the distance cut through the stillness and snapped him from his thoughts. A grunt, then a shriek, signifying a commotion somewhere not too far; faint but distinct.

Louis' instincts kicked in, his pace quickening as he followed the sound. Turning a corner, he saw a figure sprawled on the ground, unconscious. A woman hurried away, her footsteps echoing against the walls of the surrounding buildings.

And then he saw him.

Louis' breath hitched, his body instinctively relaxing at the familiar sight. "Hey," he whispered.

Batman turned, his imposing figure framed by the dim streetlights. His eyes softened as he took in Louis, a mixture of relief and concern flashing across his face. "Louis," his voice carried a protective edge. "Are you okay?" In an instant, he was by Louis' side, his hands cradling his face, searching his eyes.

Louis nodded wordlessly for a moment, swallowing as his gaze swept over Liam.

Liam looked at him as if he were assessing every detail. "I've been looking for you," he said softly, his hands still gently holding Louis' face. "Heard you were out of town."

Louis' brow furrowed, the weight of guilt pressing on his chest. "Yeah," he managed. "Back now though."

Liam's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his features. His thumb swept over Louis' cheek before he withdrew his hands. "You're okay?" he checked again.

"Yeah," Louis promised. "Just missed you."

Liam's expression softened at that, his lips pressing into a thin line as he gave a slight nod. "Missed you too," he admitted quietly, his gaze steady. There was a pause, the city's distant hum filling the silence between them.

Louis shifted, his gaze dropping to the ground before glancing back up at Liam. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Just patrol," Liam told him. "Not half as fun without you. But listen, Louis." His eyes darkened slightly, the warmth in them giving way to something more serious. "We have a plan," he said, his tone carried weight. "A good plan to take him down."

Louis' heart thudded in his chest, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. "What?"

"Joker," Liam clarified, his eyes never leaving Louis'. "We've got everything lined up. Just need one last piece of information, though. Something you can help with."

Louis' throat tightened, a lump forming as he forced himself to meet Liam's gaze. "What's that?"

"His location," Liam said, his voice steady but expectant. "We need his address." 

Louis swallowed. "I-" he trailed off helplessly.

Liam watched him carefully. "That's been the plan all along, right?" he continued. "Catch him off guard. In his own home," he said. "He'd never expect it. No one has been there before. No one... except you, Louis."

Louis hesitated, his mind racing as Liam's words sank in. The air felt heavier, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His thoughts flashed back to Harry—his smirk, the unexpected moments of softness, the way he had held him, kissed him. That kiss lingered, the warmth of it still ghosting over his lips, making his pulse quicken even now.

He swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Liam's earnest eyes and the pavement beneath his feet. His heart waged a silent war with his mind. Liam was right. Harry was dangerous, unpredictable, everything he should be fighting against. And yet, there was more to Harry than the mask he wore. Louis had seen it, felt it.

"I..." Louis whispered, blinking as his gaze dropped away from Liam's. "I can't," he muttered finally, the words loaded with a mix of regret and something deeper.

"What?" Liam's brow furrowed, confusion evident as he stepped closer. "What do you mean, you can't?"

Louis swallowed again, trying to steady his voice but his thoughts were a jumble, Harry's face flashing in his mind. "I can't," he repeated, a little firmer this time, though the tremor in his voice remained.

Liam's confusion deepened, his concern slowly growing. "Why?" he asked gently. "Why can't you? You've been there, right? You know where it is?"

Louis looked up to glance at Liam. "Yeah, I-I have but..." he stopped himself short. He struggled to find the words, the right way to explain the storm brewing inside him. "I... I just can't give you that."

Liam tilted his head slightly, trying to piece together the puzzle. "I don't understand," he admitted. "You're protecting him," he said, disbelief creeping into his tone. "Why?"

"I'm not," Louis said quickly, his voice rising slightly as if trying to convince himself as much as Liam. "I'm just... I can't do this, Liam. Please."

Liam shook his head, confused. "Louis, once he's gone he can't hurt you," he promised. "You don't have to be scared." A look of regret flashed in his eyes. "I know that-" he swallowed. "I know that I didn't protect you last time." Liam looked away guiltily for a moment before he looked back at Louis. "But I swear this is going to work," he said. "Let me help you."

Louis felt his chest clench painfully. "That's not- it wasn't your fault," he told him. "I believe you, I just..."

Liam frowned. "Then what?" he asked. "You don't have to be afraid."

Louis bit his lip, his thoughts spiralling. The memory of Harry's gentle touch, the way he had looked at him with something almost tender—it was all too much. "He's not—" Louis faltered, his voice cracking. "I'm not afraid."

Liam huffed incredulously. "He's dangerous. You know that." Frustration crept into his tone. "Why won't you help us?"

"I know," Louis muttered. "I know that- it's just..." Louis' eyes were filled with a mixture of desperation and resolve. "He's... he's not what you think."

Liam froze for a moment before scoffing. "He's not what? A killer? A complete psycho?"

"No!" Louis insisted, though his voice wavered. "I just—" He took a shaky breath. "I need you to trust me on this."

Liam shook his head slowly, struggling to understand. "What's happened to you?" he questioned. "Louis." His voice was firm now. "We need that address."

Louis shook his head. "Please," he said quietly, the word hanging in the air between them. "Don't make me fight you."

"Fight me?" Liam echoed, clearly thrown by the statement. "What are you talking about?"

Louis swallowed. "I can't let you." His voice was so quiet, as if ashamed of speaking the words.

"Can't let me what?" Liam asked, his tone snappy now. "Take him down? Lock him up? Kill him?" he listed. "Believe me, Louis, I will."

"You'll have to go through me." Was Louis' reply, sharp and sudden, as if the words just burst out of him against his own accord.

Liam looked just as shocked. "Are you crazy?" he hissed. "Defending him like this? Are you out of your damn mind?" His fists clenched at his sides.

Louis shook his head. "I'm sorry," he rushed out. "I can't help you." He took a step back.

Liam faltered, eyes softening immediately as Louis withdrew. "No, wait! Don't go," he ordered quickly, stepping toward him. "We can figure this out," he insisted. "I don't understand what he has on you but whatever it is we can figure it out."

Louis felt like he couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry," he repeated, blinking back the tears threatening to spill under the weight of the moment. "I have to go."

"Hey, don't-" Liam called, reaching out, his voice filled with desperation. "Just wait."

Louis pulled away, taking another step back. "I'm sorry," he muttered again, tone pleading. He backed away when Liam stepped towards him. "Don't, please. I have to go. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

With that, he turned and ran, his mind and heart in turmoil, leaving Liam standing alone in the dim light, his expression etched with confusion and worry.

***

The door shut behind Louis with a soft click, the heavy weight of the evening pressing down on him. The quiet hum of the apartment enveloped him, but it did little to quiet the storm inside his head. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, as he crossed the threshold, pausing just long enough to drop his bag by the door.

Harry sat on the couch, his usual smirk absent, replaced by a quiet, watchful expression. The dim light from a nearby lamp cast long shadows, making the scene feel strangely intimate like they were the only two people in the world.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

Louis let out a long sigh, running a hand over his face as he tried to sort through the tangled mess of thoughts and emotions. He could feel Harry's eyes on him, attentive but not probing, just... waiting.

Without a word, Harry stood and crossed the room, his movements unhurried, almost cautious. He stopped behind Louis, his hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Louis tensed briefly but the touch wasn't invasive—it was grounding.

"Seriously?" Louis muttered, though there was no resistance in his tone.

Harry's fingers began to knead gently into his shoulders, finding the knots and working them loose with careful, deliberate pressure. The tension that had been coiled tight in Louis' muscles slowly began to melt away under Harry's touch, the rhythmic motions soothing in a way that felt almost foreign.

Harry smiled as Louis reacted. "You're all worked up," he replied. "Let me help."

Louis exhaled deeply, his body relaxing involuntarily, and for a moment, everything else faded. The guilt, the confusion, the weight of the choices he'd made—it all seemed distant, muffled by the quiet comfort of Harry's hands.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence stretching between them, comfortable and heavy all at once. Louis' mind raced, images of Liam's face, the way his hands had cradled his own, the plea in his voice. He felt the echo of his own words, the way he'd stood firm, choosing... choosing Harry.

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, almost a whisper. "I bumped into him."

Harry's hands paused for the briefest moment before resuming their gentle motions. He didn't press for details. He just waited, letting Louis decide how much to share.

"Batman," Louis murmured, the name hanging in the air between them.

Harry's fingers continued their soothing work. His silence was steady, patient.

Louis swallowed hard, his eyes closing as he leaned slightly into Harry's touch. "He... he asked for your address. Wanted to know where you were." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of the confession heavier than he expected.

"Yeah?" Harry asked softly, thumbs pressing into the pads of Louis' shoulders.

Louis let out a shaky breath, his mind still screaming at him, telling him he'd made the wrong choice, but his body felt different. It felt right. The warmth of Harry's touch, the quiet, unwavering presence—it felt right.

"I couldn't give him what he wanted," Louis admitted finally.

Harry's hands slowed, his fingers pressing gently into Louis' shoulders before finally stopping. There was a moment of silence, a charged stillness that hung between them. 

"I know, sweetheart," Harry told him.

Louis turned slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "What? How—"

Harry offered a faint smile, a knowing look in his eyes. "You think I'd let you wander around at night unsupervised?" His voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was an underlying protectiveness in his tone.

Louis scoffed. "You sent your people to spy on me?" he asked, his tone caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief.

Harry tilted his head, eyeing Louis. "Not spying. Just... making sure you're safe."

Louis huffed, the tension in his chest easing just a little. "Great," he muttered but there was no real bite to his words.

Silence settled over them again, thicker this time, charged with something unspoken. Harry's hands slid down from Louis' shoulders, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he finally stepped back.

"Thank you," Harry said softly, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity that made Louis' heart clench.

Louis turned fully now, his eyes meeting Harry's. There was no teasing, no smirk—just genuine gratitude. It took Louis by surprise, the rawness of it, the way it cut through the haze of his own thoughts.

"For what?" Louis asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Harry's gaze softened, his eyes locked on Louis'. "For defending me."

The words hung in the air, heavier than any of the tension that had come before. Louis' heart pounded in his chest, the weight of everything—the choices, the emotions, the unspoken connection between them—crashing down all at once.

Harry took a small step closer, one hand coming up to cradle the side of Louis' face, his thumb running faintly across his cheekbone. Harry's gaze searched Louis' face for any sign of hesitation, any look of discomfort, but there was none.

Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his movements deliberate, giving Louis every chance to pull away as his eyes flickered to Louis' lips.

But Louis didn't move.

Harry leaned in, his lips brushed against Louis' softly in a hesitant kiss that held none of the usual intensity. It was gentle, tender, and in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Louis tensed for a split second before he fell into it, his hands lifting to rest lightly against Harry's neck, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath his skin. The kiss deepened just slightly, still slow, still soft as if they had all the time in the world.

When they finally parted, Harry rested his forehead against Louis'; his thumb stroked along Louis' jaw.

His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "I'll let you sit with that," he murmured. Then, with one last touch—a faint brush of his fingers along Louis' cheek—he stepped back, giving Louis space.

Louis blinked at him, his lips still tingling, his chest tightening as the world slowly began to turn again.

He didn't speak. He didn't move. He just stood there, caught in the lingering warmth of Harry's presence, the memory of the kiss branded in his mind as Harry left the room.

Lol lowkey this chapter was supposed to have a car accident on the way back to Gotham but I was like Louis has been through ENOUGH omg.

Thoughts?

Vote? Comment? Ilygsm. Mwah x