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"Lou," he whispers into his neck.
I love you. He thinks.
He can't say it out loud. They don't say it out loud.
But Louis knows, Harry knows he knows when his hands tighten on his hips, and he pulls him even closer.
Harry kisses his neck. One, two, three times. Once for every word.
Louis whimpers quietly, and Harry shuts his eyes tight, trying not to cry. If he does, he won't leave, he won't ever leave. And he can't stay.
They can't have it. Not now. Who knows if ever.
It's too complicated, it's always too complicated. It can't be just them. Not beyond those two hours stolen every other week.
They belong to each other, but they are apparently not meant to be. Not in this life.
Harry pulls away, with one last squeeze, with one last kiss behind Louis' ear.
"I'll be in touch," he promises weakly.
He looks down as his hands slide off Louis.
He doesn't know if he will ever see him again.
He never knows. It can always be the last time.
There is no use in trying to prolong that. To stay a little bit longer, to steal a little bit more time.
Five minutes, ten, fifteen. It doesn't matter. It's not enough, it's never enough.
He can't look up at him again. He can't watch the tears in Louis' eyes as he takes step after step away from him.
Louis doesn't call after him, he doesn't try to stop him.
Harry hears him break down completely before doors close after him softly.
He cries all the way home.