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The folded note slid easily into the back pocket of my pants as I stood upright from my chair at the table, and just as I was about to turn away and avoid being noticed, one of the twins (I can't ever remember which one is which) took notice and called me out on it.

"Where are you going, Louis?" she asked in a bubbly tone.

I paused, caught off-guard that my attempt to remain discreet about my exit from the dining room was exposed. Mother, unfortunately, was within earshot of the twin that she picked up on it.

"Oh, Louis dear, are you tired of me already that you must leave?" she teased lightly. Harry seemed to have coaxed out her inner clown during the last half of dinner.

I forced a smile to my face. "I am getting a bit weary, yes."

"Oh alright, if you must abandon me, then," she sighed. "Go get some rest, and perhaps get Dahlia to do something about the swelling in your face—it's getting worse, darling."

I immediately placed a hand to my face, and sure enough it felt as if a mushroom was growing underneath the skin. "Oh my."

"Yes, it's taken a toll on your face," she joked.

That made me laugh in spite of myself, which caught the attention of the diners around me. But I paid little attention to them because, for once, mum made a good attempt at humour.

I quieted down and cleared my throat to recompose myself. "Very well, mum. I'll see to it. Good night."

"Yes, good night Louis," she said as I strode away without a glance behind my shoulder at her.

Obviously, I was definitely not going back to my cabin, but instead took a swerve around a corner and came to the top of the Grand Staircase. It really was a majestic sight to see at night as well as during the hours of the day, with all the glowing electric bulbs set to define the contrast of the wooden steps and the glass dome above. 

As I looked down to the bottom of the stairs, I saw a shock of familiar curly hair brushing against the wooden beam that the figure sporting the curls leaned on. Cocking my head slightly in curiosity I made my way slowly downstairs, all the way keeping my eyes firmly planted on the figure donned in a suit I thought he'd never wear.

He turned to face me. And for some reason, as I came to notice later, my heartbeat sped up. Nearly tripled, actually.

"So you came," he said as his eyes scanned me up and down.

I snorted. "You more or less demanded it of me."

He shrugged. "It was your decision to walk out or accept, mate."

I cocked a brow at him, but didn't give a response. We maintained eye contact for a while, not knowing how to continue our discussion until Harry strode to my side and linked arms with me.

"What—? What are you doing, Harry?!" I hissed at him while trying to struggle free from his vice-grip.

He didn't say a word to me as he walked us out of the room and towards the elevators, although he still kept my arm locked tight in his.

"Harry, let go of me," I said between gritted teeth. But he didn't.

Finding out relatively quickly that my vain struggling attracted more attention to us, I quickly submit to it and instead dropped my gaze to the floor in shame. The nape of my neck burned with embarrassment as I felt scornful eyes on us from every direction, disapproving of the "more than friendly" connection established between us.

"Where are we going?" I huffed, my arm going limp as the blood drained from it. Luckily, Harry caught on and released some of the pressure.

"Have you ever gotten hammered?" he asked from out of the blue.

I blinked a few times in surprise at the random question. "'Hammered'? I'm not familiar with slang, Harry. You're going to need to specify."

He snorted in suppressed laughter, a mischievous gleam sparking in his eyes. "Oh, you sheltered man-child. Once we arrive at our destination, you'll know what I mean."

I couldn't help but slump ever-so-slightly at what laid ahead of us as he released my arm in preparation for entering the lift.

----

"No! No, Harry, stop!"

A hazy atmosphere. People dancing. Endless music. A thick stench of tobacco. And lots of alcohol. Of course, having never been accustomed to something like that, I naturally began to protest as we descended the stairs to the Third Class saloon.

"Harry, no," I said firmly, planting my feet onto the step and refusing to take another lower.

"Come on, Louis," he said with an eye-roll.

"No! Sneaking off is one thing, but this—this—is quite another," I said brashly.

"Come on, Lou, you'll have fun. You won't get drunk," Harry assured, looking me straight in the eyes to show his endearing honesty.

After refusing to meet his gaze for about ten seconds, I gave in to his assurance. "Fine."

Little did I know at the time that, after he grasped my hand in his and pulled me through the throng of dirty commonfolk, he murmured "yet" under his breath.

A jolly tune played next to a platform where people bounced around enjoying life albeit their low-life status in society, and several ragged men nearby watched a drinking match commence while sipping rum and occasionally throwing back a few stronger substances in shot glasses. 

"Hey," Harry said from beside me—just that one word sent foreign shivers down my spine, "wanna watch?"

Of course, since there was nothing better to do, I agreed hesitantly. Harry again took me by the hand and led me to the table, where the men around it boomed victoriously as one of the competitors' hands smacked down an empty shot glass onto the table; he looked ready to faint right then.

"He looks ready to pass out," Harry snickered from beside me, pointing to the man.

A smirk crept onto my face as I watched the man's opponent, a frizzy-haired woman with salt-and-pepper hair, snatched the bottle of vodka sitting on the table and easily downed the remainder of the half still left inside. I winced in disgust slightly, but I couldn't help but feel sickeningly amused as the woman showed faint signs of drunkeness. The men crowded around rained money down on the table after the feat was completed.

"Ugh, that is so disgraceful," I muttered as I untucked my shirt from my pants because of the stuffy air circulating around the claustrophobic room.

Harry looked slightly bemused at my comment and turned on me. "Then you should witness what I'm about to do, love."

I suppressed a chuckle as Harry pushed aside the drunken man, who fell to the floor in a heap, and watched as the woman was gently taken by the arm and led away just to be replaced by a burly fellow to compete against Harry. 

The man's eyes suddenly narrowed as they swiveled between me and Harry. "This fancy lad with ya?" He pointed at me as he spoke to Harry.

"Yeah, he's mine." Harry winked at him, something I was unsure of what meant. I swear, he always spoke in code when I was around him. I never understood his subtle gestures directed at me.

The man exploded into boisterous laughter, and suddenly I felt an arm snake around my waist and pulling me close to Harry's side. Unfortunately, my own arms were helplessly strapped to my sides as he pulled me in.

Before long, the pair began to drink glass after glass of alcohol ranging from beer to vodka to rum. Harry was starting to lose his grip on reality quicker than the other man, who probably had more experience in terms of drinking than he did, and I was beginning to stress out if Harry lost, which would mean I would be on my own.

"Look at this 'ere rich laddie. Doesn't look to have drinked a day o' his life, that one," one of the men in the group around me said, and from the corner of my eye I could see his finger pointing accusingly at me.

"Hey!" I suddenly yelled in his direction.

The group of about six men around me silenced and looked up at me curiously, with the one who degraded me looking like a frightened child separated from its mother. 

"You think I can't drink?" I challenged boldly, reaching out my hand to a bottle of whiskey on the table behind me. Pressing the cold rim to my mouth I took a swig of the liquid and felt it sizzling in my mouth before it ran down my throat, leaving behind a burning streak of wildfire in my esophagus. 

The men guffawed in laughter as I coughed violently. I didn't expect alcohol to have been so strong! But nevertheless, I continued to chug down the drink until I vaguely remember leaving them awe-struck as I threw the bottle to the side after I emptied it in less than a minute.

That was the last thing I remembered doing that night.

----

I woke up feeling groggy and sore the following morning. Oh my god, I felt so awful. A horrible ache at the back of my head developed quickly, and nausea clutched my stomach. And when I tried thinking why I was feeling those particular feelings, I couldn't remember why. I couldn't even remember what happened the night prior.

The bed rustled, causing me to jump and squirm away from whatever was under the sheets. Taking a tentative peek to the other side I saw the outline of another body.

"Harry?" I whispered.

"Mm . . ."

My lungs relaxed. The next thing on my mind was the events that occured last night as well as why Harry was in my room. I knew Dahlia was a sensitive listener, a woman almost impossible to evade without making noise.

"Harry," I said again, crawling over to his side of the bed.

"What d'you want, Lou?" he mumbled.

"I want to know why the hell you're in my room."

That made him straighten up from his burrow of sheets. His hair was a mess of curly, and his eyes a whoozy jade. "D-Did you just swear, Louis Tomlinson?"

I did a double-take at the question. I didn't even realize he caught onto that. Hell, I didn't even know I said the very word. "I sure damn did."

In that very instant Harry's eyes brightened up like a child receiving his first parcel of mail. In turn it made me very happy inside, and made my smile grow on my face. Suddenly I was pulled into a tight embrace, and that was when I came to my senses.

"Are you naked, Harry?" I wondered.

"Yeah, and so are you."

I could have shot out the ceiling right there. I also could have hissed like an angry feline. "Harry! P-Please don't . . . Don't tell me that w-we did . . . you know, anything—"

"What? Bloody hell, no!" Harry cried. "No, no, no Louis."

"So why am I naked? And why are you here? And—?"

I was shushed gently while his large hands encased my face. "Sh, Lou. We 'commonfolk' sleep in the nude all the time. Don't take it to heart or anything. Plus I had no time to worry about your jammies last night."

"Yeah, that's something I would love to know more about," I said wryly.

"Last night? Oh wow, you don't even remember," Harry chuckled. "You got so slammed, mate. You passed out the moment we came back here."

I gawked in horror. I already assumed that 'slammed' interpreted as 'heavy drinking to the point you can no longer think rationally'. My shock quickly turned to boiling anger because of what he allowed last night.

"Go, get out. Just change into your clothes and get dressed," I commanded. But then I had a slight change of heart as I added, "My Father will be arriving shortly."

I felt like I just condemned myself to time-out as Harry quietly changed in the corner of the room. I felt as if I forced the fun to leave, and making myself turn back to the posh life I always knew. Oh, I knew that he'd be back.

I just wished he would never have to leave.

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