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Chapter Text

-

The first angel rubs her hands together against the cold. It is 11:30 on New Year’s Eve and she is standing in the car park of a miserable looking service station just off the M1. She checks her watch and sighs. He’s late again. She rolls her eyes and plunges her hands into her pockets. Typical male ego, never any respect. She wishes she could have a smoke, but she’d given up the year before and wasn’t about to go through the nonsense of quitting all over again.

“Sorry I’m late.” She looks up. The second angel is walking towards her, dark blonde hair swept back from his tanned face.

“About time. Come on, while we’re still young.” She says this with no hint of irony.

He raises his eyebrows slightly, but doesn’t comment. They walk into the service station in silence and enter the first coffee shop they come to. She orders something sweet and foamy.

“I’ll have an iced tea.” He says, flashing perfect white teeth at the cashier, who practically combusts. The two angels take a seat together.

“So,” he begins. “What’s the big emergency?”

“No emergency, I’ve just got places to be.”

“Ooh, hot date? Don’t want to get stuck kissing me at midnight? You wound me Clara.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” She says, face utterly devoid of emotion.

“Sorry, sorry. Please, do tell.”

“We are required.” She says solemnly. There is a thin moustache of foam above her upper lip. “Fate has got a little tangled.”

“Ugh, not again.” He rolls his eyes. “I spend enough of my time sorting out Fate’s little mishaps as it is. Can’t she deal with this herself?”

“No, she’s busy.”

“Busy?” He asks, incredulous.

“Yes. She’s on a cruise around Orion’s belt. Anyway, that’s not the point, it is what it is, and this one’s important. True love and all that. Are you going to help or not?”

He pouts at her moodily, and then sighs.

“Well, alright. But only if I absolutely have to.”

“Thankyou, Archie. Ever so gracious of you. Now- the facts are these…”

CH1:The One Where Almost Meeting Isn’t Quite Enough 

The 5:36 train from Edinburgh to Manchester is, predictably, pretty empty. Harry Styles slides his ticket into is back pocket as he boards, one bag on his back, one over each shoulder and a hefty holdall in his arms.

He makes a beeline for a table seat and spreads his bags out around him. He has been homeless for 19 minutes and he’s already feeling pretty sorry for himself.

He fumbles in the holdall for a few moments before extracting a breakfast bar with a flourish. It was all he had been able to grab from his shared kitchen in Halls before he had to run (rather awkwardly, considering his considerable luggage) for the train. He trusts that Jenny won’t mind. After all she had told him on the first day of term “what’s mine is yours”.

Well, that’s what he thinks she’d said anyway, she’d had a mouthful of granola at the time.

To Jenny, he thinks, raising the Nuts N’ Crunch bar into the air in salute before tearing the wrapper off and stuffing it into his mouth. It’s no fry up sure, but it’s better than nothing. Well, more or less.

As the train departs and gathers speed Harry stares out of the window at the city, dimly lit and cloaked in morning mist.

This is the kind of shit that poets write about, he thinks, well, that and pretentious musicians.

-

220 miles away a pretentious musician has his head in his hands.

Zayn Malik has no mist hanging at his window like spiders webs, no rain beating against his roof. All he has is a pitiful view of a car park and the sound of two cats either fighting or having sex. Either way it’s not ideal.

I bet Bowie never had to put up with this shit.

He pushes his hands against his eyes to try and wipe the fatigue away and then rubs them together. It’s been January for just over two weeks and every morning feels more frozen than the last. He’d even spent his 24^th birthday wrapped up in bed with with the flu and nothing for company but a pink fluffy hot water bottle.

The red alarm clock in the corner reads 5:40am. It’s a funky Ikea piece and stands out like a sore thumb in his moody, antique filled bedroom. Usually he wouldn’t stand for such reproduced nonsense, but since it was a flat warming present from Louis he was obliged to compliment it thoroughly, and find it a place in his room. It’s currently balanced precariously on a stack of Led Zepellin records by his bed.

Right now he wants to find it a place in the skip underneath his balcony. Smug little bastard.

He pulls on a black jumper over his black t-shirt and takes his black mood into the kitchen to boil the kettle. Writer’s block is a bitch.

There is a card propped against the toaster and he picks it up and reads it again, a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Good luck tonight ZAYNY. Don’t forget my support when you hit the big time. Just buy me a car and we’ll call it quits. And remember…WESTSIDE. All my love, Lou Bear. xxx

Zayn grins. For all of Louis’ faults, he really is a fantastic friend. He casts his mind back to the day they met, 8 years before at college orientation. He’d nervously looked around the room for a spare seat, eventually spotting one next to a shy looking guy in a beanie and a grey cardigan. ‘Shy’ turned out to be a terrible miscalculation.

Within five minutes Zayn had learnt everything that the boy had eaten in the last 24 hours as well as his opinion on every class on their shared syllabus. He had also learnt not to judge people by appearances.

He pours the boiling water over his coffee grounds and stirs, the smell rousing him, and turns his mind to last night’s performance.

Even he had to admit it had been the best of his life and when he staggered offstage after his final song the audience had roared for an encore. And Zayn was nothing if not a crowd pleaser. The feeling of being onstage in front of people screaming your name…it was almost better than sex. And that was coming from the man who hadn’t been laid in 5 months.

But best of all, he had seen him again. The mysterious fan that had been at almost every single show he’d ever played.

He sips his coffee as delicious memories of long eyelashes, dark eyes and tanned skin rush back to him. Lazily he wanders back into his bedroom, sets his mug down and picks up his pen, inspiration sparking.

He begins to write a song about love and fate and eyes meeting across a crowded room. He lets the words flow from pen to paper until two pages of the notebook are filled with his messy scrawl and doodles of hearts and stars and he’s finally finished. He clambers into bed, his coffee forgotten, eyes suddenly heavy. He falls asleep, his new lyrics running through his brain.

On his desk is the first draft of a song for his mystery admirer.

And it’s truly truly terrible.

-

Marimba.

Suddenly Louis’ least favourite sound in all the world.

He fumbles for his phone which has somehow slipped down the side of his bed and is making horrible chirping sounds at him. He makes a ghastly choking sound in response. He feels like something has crawled into his mouth and died. And then come back to life, and then died again. The light from his phone is blinding.

He hasn’t woken up feeling quite this bad since his and Zayn’s University years when most days were spent sleeping until noon and eating leftover pizza and nursing hangovers until the evening came and it was time to go out and do it all over again.

But now he’s a real proper adult with a real proper adult job at the most prestigious Performing Arts school in the city. And he’s going to be late unless he gets a move on. Louis Tomlinson is many things, but he is never, ever late. Well, not since his disciplinary hearing.

He scrambles out of bed, grabbing his toothbrush on his way into the shower.

He barely has time to wash and style his hair before it’s suddenly 9 o’clock and he’s rushing out the door, without time for even a sip of Yorkshire tea. Outrageous.

He checks his phone in the lift down from his flat, and shakes his head with amusement when he sees his new background; a picture of Niall with his arms round a bouncer and his shirt tied around his neck like a cape.

He’d been drinking at least two drinks for every one Louis and Zayn had, and with a wicked grin he wonders how he’s feeling this morning.

-

In fact Niall Horan has never felt better.

Whether it’s the luck of the Irish or just damn good genes, he’d woken up with the birds at 7:30, well rested and ready for the day. He’d even had time for a jog around the block before showering and dressing for work. And now even his hair looks fantastic, though he’ll have to ask Louis to touch up his roots in a couple of weeks.

God has favourites, and the Irishman is definitely one of them.

As he sips his tea and munches on peanut butter toast he casts his mind back to the night before. Great night out with the lads. Absolute classic. Memories come flooding back of Zayn insisting he buy Niall a chicken kebab, and then serenading him with Robbie Williams on a park bench. He knows that Zayn will deny it until his very last breath, but Niall will cherish the memory nonetheless.

(‘So when I'm lying in my bed, thoughts running through my head, and I feel that love is dead, I'm lovin-‘ Shit Niall. Niall! No get down from there, take that- take that cape off. Don’t fall down or Louis’ll kill me, LOUIS LOUIS where’s Louis Niall we’ve lost Louis. ‘I’M LOVIN ANGELS INSTEAD.’ What do you mean I’m sitting in your kebab?)

Louis had disappeared early again of course, far too drunk on far too little and waxing lyrical about his cold heart and how he’d never find love.

Niall shakes his head, drains his mug and looks at his watch. About time to go. He checks himself in the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth and it occurs to him how bloody old he looks in his shirt and smart trousers. (He'd begged his boss to let him wear jeans and high tops, but to no avail).

There are some days when he gets home from a day at the school and a double shift at the pub when he feels as though 10 years has passed since he and Harry were 16 year old kids messing about at school, cutting lessons and sitting in woodland circles getting giddy on cans of cider.

How things change, how they stay the same. He shakes himself out of his reverie and spits his toothpaste into the sink. Getting nostalgic in your old age, Horan? Pull it together. He vows to put the past where it belongs as he grabs his keys, swings open the door and collides headfirst with history.

-

Harry gets lost three times before he finally finds Niall’s building. He had hopped off the train at Picadilly and walked confidently down the street before stopping and realising that he had no idea which direction he should be going in.

He’s out of breath by the time he arrives, knowing that he needs to catch Niall before work or he’ll be stuck out in the cold all day with all of his bags. Plus he really needs a wee. He walks quickly, luckily managing to slip in behind someone as they are leaving the building. He rides the lift up to the 5^th floor with an excited tingling in his stomach as he wonders just how excited Niall will be to see him.

-

“Jesus Christ Harry! What the fuck?”

“I’ve quit Uni. I’m back.”

“Yeah I can see that, Jesus, come in.” He steps back to let Harry shuffle in and drop his bags to the floor with a thud.

“You got the kitchen sink in there somewhere too?” He gestures to Harry’s luggage. The joke is strained, something’s off and Harry knows it. He tries to force a laugh but it dies on his lips.

“Sorry I know I should have called but it was all a bit sudden. And I was booking a ticket and I just thought of you and us and your tiny box room that nobody wants to rent and I thought…I thought you’d be pleased to see me.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, the door open and Harry playing with his fingers nervously. Niall blinks a few times to check that Harry is not an illusion brought on by a dodgy chicken kebab. Then he steps towards him and gathers him up into a tight hug.

“Course I’m pleased to see you ya moron, just fucking surprised that’s all. Last I heard from you was the end of term and you just seemed so psyched to be up there.”

Harry remembers the voicemail. It was 2 in the morning and he was standing alone outside of a club in the centre of town, and he was gushing about his friends and his flat and his course and how this was definitely, finally the right decision for him. He’d hung up the phone with a promise to call again and wandered the city alone until he felt as empty as its streets.

“What happened Harry?” Concern laces his voice and Harry realises that his face has dropped. He forces a smile.

“It’s a long story. I’m fine, just tired.”

“Well get in here and make yourself at home. Listen man, I’ve got to get to Cole’s or I’ll get an absolute bollocking but you can meet me later alright, and we can chat then. I’m working at Simon’s part time, you know the place? I start at 6:30.” He takes a few steps out of the door before turning back to Harry, who looks so fragile and lost standing in his tiny kitchen.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, man.”

And with those words Harry smiles properly for the first time in days.

-

It’s 9:23 by the time Louis manages to find a place to park his car at work. The familiar red and gold ‘Cole Institute’ sign looms above him as he locks his old green mini.

He’s worked here since he graduated 4 years before and has never once doubted his decision to stay. Each day is busy and loud and full of tantrums from both staff and students and he never finishes on time. But that’s what he loves about the place, the life and passion that echoes through every hallway. And it’s no different today.

He’s been inside his office for less than five minutes when there is a frantic knocking on the door.

“Come in.” He’s barely said the words before a girl with fierce red hair is tumbling through the doorway and into the room.

“Sabine’s locked in the sound booth Tommo and I can’t find anyone.” She’s out of breath and her chest is heaving.

“Alright calm down, calm down. I’m on my way. Just let me grab my keys. Calm Rebecca, calm.”

She nods and scrambles back out of the door. Just a normal day then.

-

Zayn’s phone is ringing. Zayn’s phone is ringing and he’s not very happy about it. He groans and reaches under his pillow for the offending object. LOU BEAR CALLING. He grits his teeth and hits answer.

“Wha dya wah?”

“And lovely to hear your voice too Zayn darling.”

Zayn groans and repeats his question, enunciating a little better this time and adding a few choice swear words.

“What? Can’t I call my best friend on my break with no ulterior motive? Just wanted to see how you were feeling after your show and remind you that it’s the showcase tomorrow and if you forget then I will personally see to it that you never sing in this town again. Message received?”

He gets a string of expletives and the dial tone as an answer. Charming.

-

There’s not a lot to do in Niall’s flat, as Harry finds out pretty quickly. After showering in Niall’s tiny bathroom and necking a cup of coffee he’s far too wired to take a nap as planned. He wanders aimlessly from one end of the flat to the other before deciding to at least do something productive.

He finishes hoovering at 11, the dusting’s done at noon and by the time 6 o’clock rolls around he’s tidied every inch of the flat, colour coded Niall’s wardrobe and even organised the fridge.

Idle work makes the devils hands do something or something he says to himself. 4 cups of coffee in and he’s feeling decidedly peculiar.

“Shit.” He hasn’t checked the clock in hours and he realises that Niall’s shift starts in an hour. He looks down at himself, covered in dust and debris from the floor, and decides another shower is in order. He eyes the kettle warily.

And maybe just one more cup.

-

Louis is finally almost done at work.

He grabs a prop sword and a pirate hat and stuffs it into the box he’s carrying under his arm, wondering whose bright idea it was to teach the Junior class about improvisation when he was nursing a colossal hangover.

Ah yes, it was my bright idea.

He always forgets how bloody noisy 14 year olds can be. And where had all that energy come from? Then he remembers himself at 14, practically bouncing off the walls, and decides to cut them a little slack.

He unlocks the odds and ends cupboard at the far end of the hall, holding the door open with his foot whilst he replaces the box on a shelf. He’d been delighted to find an empty space to commandeer when he’d first started his job at the school after graduating, though this delight was slightly hampered by the fact that the door locked from the outside whenever it was shut.

He’d found that one out the hard way.

He gives the hall a quick once over before turning out the lights and walking back to his office, thinking of a hot shower and bed.

He swears loudly when he realises that the choir arrangements for tomorrow’s showcase are still on his desk and not with Niall where they should be.

Shit.

And it’s his morning off tomorrow.

Balls.

-

It’s almost seven when Louis pulls up outside Simon’s.

The old pub has been here for as long as anyone can remember and it hasn’t changed once since Louis moved to Manchester. He likes that about it.

Since he befriended Niall the year before he’s been a regular, and he and Zayn have spent many drunken nights hunched over their drinks in the corner, crying with laughter at Niall’s impressions of the various punters in front of them.

He pulls his denim jacket tighter around him as he locks his car. The sky is clear and dark and there is a bitter chill in the air. His breath fogs in front of his face in the carpark and he walks quickly inside. The noise and warmth greet him immediately.

He spots Niall straight away behind the bar, cleaning a glass and talking animatedly to an elderly man in a sagging and stained Christmas jumper. Louis smiles. Niall always chooses the most interesting and unusual person in the bar to talk to.

In other words the drunkest and most unhinged.  

Louis spots Old Nelson sitting in the corner and nods his head. Nelson nods back and salutes. He’ll never forget the New Year’s Eve he spent trapped in a corner with the old guy whilst Zayn sang drunken Karaoke. Nelson had spent almost 2 hours explaining to him that the moon landing was actually filmed in a storage space in Hackney, and that anyone saying otherwise was bloody clueless.

Never again.

Niall smiles widely and raises a hand to Louis when he sees him crossing the pub floor towards him. Louis returns his smile and holds up the small stack of paper in his hands and watches realisation flood across Niall’s face.

“Shit man I totally forgot I had all that to do as well. Thanks for bringing these.” He looks a little tired, Louis thinks. It can’t be easy working all these hours, not that he would ever complain about anything. The world is a wonderful sparkling place for people like Niall, and Louis wouldn’t have it any other way. He hands them across the bar and Niall stashes them under the till.

“What can I get you? On the house of course.”

He throws Louis a dramatic wink and laughs. Louis takes a seat next to the man at the bar and pulls off his scarf.

“Just an orange juice cheers.”

“One vodka and orange coming up.”

“No vodka, just the orange.”

Niall’s brow knits together in confusion.

“Just the orange? Alright then, if you’re sure…”

He pulls a glass up and as he walks over to the fridge at the other end of the bar Louis hears him muttering something about bloody Englishmen. Louis chuckles and looks around the pub. Not a single guy under the age of 45. He’s glad he didn’t bother going home to change. He turns to the man next to him and compliments him on his wonderful jumper.

A mile and a half away Harry Styles puts on his coat, checks himself once in the mirror and leaves the building.

-

The streets feel the same, though they’ve changed so much since Harry had last walked them. He enjoys the familiar symmetry of the estates and the wide roads full of traffic. Tall trees in front of streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement and as he walks he thinks of his and Niall’s first summer in Manchester, fresh out of school and eager to live.

They’d slept on friend’s sofas before Niall found them both a job in a shop warehouse and they’d been able to rent a tiny place on the outskirts of town. It had been the best summer of his life. They’d been to house parties that spread out across the streets, and danced in basements until the sun cracked the sky in half and they had to go home. He’d kissed anyone he wanted without a single fear or concern in his head. He had felt invincible and his heart was full of light. But then September had arrived and with it responsibility. Niall’s application to the Cole Institute had been successful. Harry’s still lay under a pile of magazines in his room.

Outwardly he’d been ecstatic for Niall, and of course he was, but inside somewhere he felt empty and numb, and for the next few months he could only watch as his best friend’s life moved forwards and his stood still. He stayed for as long as he could stand it, but as the weather got colder he did too and one night he wrote a note and left.

His life for the past two years had been failed attempts, part time jobs, one way tickets and then this summer a panicked application to University.

And now you’ve fucked that up too, haven’t you.

He lifts the collar of his jacket and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets against the cold. He takes a left and sees Simon’s up ahead.

-

“Matt please, I can’t go through this again.”

Louis is sitting on a table out the back of the pub, legs drawn up and his phone pressed to his ear. He’s been dreading this call for weeks and he’d groaned when he saw the name on the caller ID. But he couldn’t ignore it, it wasn’t in his nature, so he’s picked up his orange juice, excused himself and taken the call out back.

He and his latest boyfriend Matt had broken up at the end of October. He’d gone through the usual post break-up routine; crying, eating ice-cream, watching depressing films about sinking ships. But after a week of this he'd had to admit he hadn’t felt so much as a twinge of regret. Not that Matt hadn’t been great. He was funny, smart, good looking. They shared the same taste in everything. He was perfect on paper, but he didn’t make Louis’ heart beat fast. Nobody did.

Louis had dated every kind of guy- older, younger. He’d experimented with lawyers and bankers, men with money who wanted to take care of him. He’d had flings with friends of Zayn, musicians with emotional problems who sang about heartache and pain. But they never made him feel a thing and he wonders if he’s just not meant to fall in love.

“I just didn’t feel the same, Matt.” He says into the phone, and he braces himself for tears from the other end of the line.

-

Harry pushes open the door to the pub and the familiar smell fills his heart with a feeling of home. Growing up he’d spent countless afternoons sitting in the corner of his local with Gemma, with colouring books and crayons and as many glasses of Fanta and Coke as they could chug back before they felt sick and dizzy with sugar.

Pubs weren’t quite the same since the smoking ban, but they still held that sense of nostalgia that managed to take Harry’s breath away even now. He crosses the room and sits at the bar, all the while scanning for Niall.

He sees a barmaid stop in front of him out of the corner of his eye. He turns. She grins. He doesn’t smile back.

“JD and coke please.”

“Double?”

“Single.”

She flicks her hair and turns to get the bottle of whiskey down from the top shelf, stretching a little more than necessary, Harry thinks. She hands him the drink and takes the change he scrapes from the bottom of his pocket.

She continues to beam at him until a customer calls for a drink from the other side of the bar. He takes a sip. She’s poured him a double.

“Harold!” Harry turns just as Niall claps a hand on his back and squeezes. “Sorry mate, just got off my break, you been here long?”

“No not long.”

“I’ll get you a drink.”

“No, Ni, I’ve just…” But Niall is already pouring generous amounts of brown liquid into a glass.

“On the house” he says, and his smile is the brightest thing in the room.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to feel it. He’s hardly eaten today and his drink feels sweet and heavy in his mouth and makes his head feels light.

Niall manages to start a heated discussion about football with the man sitting next to Harry, who is wearing a heavy overcoat and is missing most of his teeth. Harry sips his drink and lets his mind drifts to the last time he'd played football in Barcelona over the summer. He had laughed with the boys on his team, rolled around breathless in celebration. Afterwards he had sat on the beach alone and as he watched the waves roll over the shore he had wandered what it would be like to fall in love. Then he had scolded himself for being so pathetic, found the nearest bar and ordered tequila.

“You’re having a laugh!”

Niall’s raised voice brings him back to the now and he looks up just as his friend’s outstretched arm knock over a pint of bitter right in Harry’s general direction. Cold liquid spreads down his front.

“Bugger it all to hell, I’m sorry man. Coulda sworn it weren't that close.”

Harry waves his apologies away and smiles. It’s not the first time Niall’s enthusiasm and clumsiness had gotten him into a sticky situation. He shrugs his jacket off and hangs it over his barstool.

“Back in a sec.” He wanders a little shakily away from the bar towards the back of the pub in search of the toilets. He pushes one door open and finds another ahead.

He barely has time to read the RESTRICTED sign on it before someone comes charging through and for the second time in as many minutes, Harry is covered in someone else’s beverage.

-

“Shit. Shit I’m so sorry.” Louis is fumbling for his words, mortified that he’s just poured half a glass of orange juice over a stranger. A tall stranger. A tall curly haired stranger. A tall curly haired laughing stranger.

“Honestly my fault, I’m not meant to be back here, I was looking for the loos actually. Guessing they’re back the other way.”

He sees Louis’ knitted brow and it wounds him unexpectedly. Drunk and soppy as usual.

“Honestly don’t worry. Someone just spilled their drink on me- someone else I mean. Before you.” Harry adds this when the man’s face falls further. "I think the universe is trying to tell me something about this shirt." 

“I should have been looking, I’m such an idiot.” Louis’ face is hot and red and for some reason he can’t bring himself to look up past the chest in front of him.

“Hey” Louis feels a hand on his shoulder. “I really don’t mind. It’ll be a funny story.”

Harry squeezes Louis’ shoulder and for the first time he looks up. The boy in front of him is smiling, a real genuine honest smile that reaches to his eyes from his mouth. And what a mouth it is. Even in the gloom of the corridor he can see the deep pink of the stranger’s lips, the impossible plumpness of them that sends a shiver straight down his spine.

He realises that he needs to say something soon or else he’ll end up looking even more ridiculous than he already does.

“Orange juice.”

Nailed it.

“Orange juice.” The stranger agrees and his smile remains, though Louis has no idea why.

“It was really nice meeting you.” He says, and Louis wants to return the compliment but for some reason his head and glass are as empty as each other. And then all too quickly the hand is gone from his shoulder and Louis is standing alone in the short corridor, trying desperately to remember how to move his legs.

-

“You’re wrong about Delaney, he’s a solid addition. He may be a bit older but- Hey Louis, Louis you’re not going are you mate? You haven’t met my friend Harry!” The toothless man beside Niall grins up at Louis in apparent recognition. But Louis can’t meet Harry now, can’t meet any of Niall’s ridiculous customer friends, not today.

He has to go and drive through the dark before any of the memory burns away. He manages a weak smile before pushing through the doors and out in the cold night, thinking only of pink lips and flashing green eyes.

“What’s his problem…anyway, like I was saying. Delaney-”

And when Harry returns to the bar a few moments later Niall is so deep in conversation that he barely notices when he takes his seat again, which is fine with Harry.

He glances several times around the bar, but there is no sign of a man with his hair swept across his forehead and the most perfect cheekbones Harry has ever seen. He takes a sip from the fresh drink Niall places in front of him and keeps drinking until there are no clear thoughts in his head at all and Niall has to loop his arms around him to get him into the lift and back into his flat.

He sits him on the arm of the sofa whilst he fills a pint glass with water at the sink.

“There’s a bed in the box room, spare duvet in the airing cupboard and pillows under the bed.”

Harry nods sagely before falling backwards onto the sofa.

“Or alternatively you can sleep right there.”

Niall grabs the throw and places it over Harry, who has repositioned himself clumsily across the sofa. “I’m up for work at 8 so I’m heading to bed now. Oh and Harry-”

Niall crouches down beside his friend.

“-rent’s due the first Monday of every month. Welcome home.” He plants a kiss on Harry’s temple before switching the light off and going to bed.

Harry smiles as he drifts off, swimming down through drunken dreams of toothless men and footballers and the most vivid blue eyes that he has ever seen.

Chapter Text

CH2 The One Where Zayn Is Wrong About Almost Everything

Louis wakes the next morning hangover free, 20 minutes before his alarm is due to go off. His head is strangely clear and he can’t recall any of his dreams.

It’s only when he’s in the shower and steam fills the spaces around him that he remembers him, the boy from the night before. And when he remembers him he can’t stop remembering him. It’s as though he’s turned a tap one way and can’t turn it back.

He thinks about him as he butters toast and sips tea from his thermos as he walks from his car to his office. He thinks about him as he watches half a dozen pre-pubescent boys try and read Romeo and Juliet and he’s laughing so much he thinks he might cry.

It’s only when the electricity goes in the auditorium in fifth period during a screening of Rent and he has to take an impromptu 45 minute seminar for 70 pupils that finally, finally he thinks of something else. And like every obsession before it, it begins melts away to nothing.

-

“Come on Harry, you need to get out of bed.”

A grunt from underneath the covers.

“It’s the showcase in a few hours, you should come.”

Harry whines and lifts the covers from over his head.

“Alright princess, how you feeling?”

“Like death.”

“You don’t look much better.” He chuckles at his own joke before continuing. “Anyway, now you’re a rent-paying occupant of the flat you can’t be sleeping all day. You need to get yourself a job.”

These are really not the words that Harry wants to be hearing whilst his hangover is still looming horribly overhead.

“Alright, I’m up, I’m up. Now put on the kettle and make sure there’s a cup of tea for me when I’m finished in the shower.”

He pauses in the doorway and stretches.

“You really do not know how to treat a lady Horan.” He is quick enough to duck the first cushion Niall throws, but not the second.

-

“I thought the great Zayn Malik didn’t get nervous?”

“He doesn’t.”

“Then why are you pacing.”

“I’m not pacing.”

“You most certainly are.”

“And you most certainly are a total fucking arsehole.” He stops pacing and faces Louis who is perched on the side of the sofa eating crisps. They stare at each other for a few tense moments.

“Crisp?”

Zayn resumes his pacing and manages to pace right out of the door of Louis’ office and into the corridor. He leans against a wall.

“Zayn?” Louis calls thickly from inside his office. He swallows his mouthful of crisps and tries again. “Zayn? You’ve gone and paced out the room, mate. You’ve paced too far. You’ve gone wrong. Pace back in. Pace back in."

No response.

"I’ve got chocolate.” Zayn pokes his head around the door.

-

Harry wants nothing more than to be curled up in his new bed watching Love, Actually on his laptop with a big bowl of greasy popcorn and some thick socks on. Harry wants nothing less than to be sitting in a theatre next to an annoyingly chipper Niall Horan watching spotty adolescents singing show tunes. But God hates Harry Styles and doesn’t want him to be happy, so here he is.

He manages to doze through three acts before Niall nudges him hard and tells him to pay attention.

“These are my little fuckers.” A nervous group of boys trudges out onstage. Niall whistles loudly at his prodigies, ignoring the disapproving looks from nearby audience members.

And then the performance begins and even Harry in his inhuman, hungover state has to admit that they’re good, better than good even. When they’re finished they take a sheepish bow and Niall jumps up in his seat to clap and even Harry manages a cheer.

“It’s Zayn next Harry, you remember I told you about Zayn.” But Harry isn’t listening. He’s sitting up in his seat straining his eyes to get a clearer look at the person hovering at the edge of the stage. It looks like…but it can’t be. And before he has time to lean forward and look closer a dark haired boy steps onto the stage and the crowd explodes.

It won’t have been him anyway, he thinks, followed shortly by ow ow fucking ow when the screaming rises a decibel and pierces his hangover.

“Alright, alright, alright.” The crowd settles slightly and Zayn waits a moment before speaking again. “Now my first song is a new one. It’s called Stranger. It’s for…well, you know who you are. Hope you like it.” Somewhere behind him a band starts to play.

Zayn closes his eyes and sings, hoping that he’s out there in the crowd, and that he knows.

-

“Zayn that was amazing!” Niall grabs him in a bone crushing hug. “Here, meet my friend Harry, we’re living together.”

Zayn nods at Harry and shakes his hand.

“Niall’s right, you were really good out there.”

“Cheers man, means a lot.”

He smiles at them both briefly, before turning his head to scan the room.

“Um…You alright Zayn?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

Harry and Niall exchange a look as Zayn’s eyes dart frantically around, settling on nothing until- at last.

“Lovely to meet you Harry, Niall, I’ll see you soon man alright.”

He starts to march across the room.

“Where you going?” Niall calls after him and he turns.

“I’ve got to go see a man about some destiny.” He disappears through the crowd.

“Your friends are weird and I need a piss. Hold my drink.”

“I’m not your fucking servant!” Niall calls after him but Harry too has disappeared out of sight.

He looks around for a pretty girl to talk to but finds none. What he does find is Louis Tomlinson who, despite not being a pretty girl, is enough to bring a smile to his face.

“Niall!” He shouts when he sees him waving. He comes over. “Drinking for two tonight?” He gestures the drinks in his hands.

“No this one’s not-” Niall begins but Louis holds up his hand.

“There’s no time. I need to catch to Zayn before he speaks to that guy and does something really stupid. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah he’s over there doing something really stupid.” Niall nods towards the corner of the room where Zayn is whispering in the ear of a gorgeous man.

“Oh! Fuck wank bugger shitting arse head and hole.” Says Louis, and then he is gone too, dodging stealthily through the milling crowd.

A moment later Harry returns, disgruntled.

“This place is like a maze. I think I was actually underground at one point.”

Niall smiles weakly and hands Harry’s glass back to him.

“Drink up, we’re going home.”

“Niall James Horan, are you suggesting an early night?” Harry asks, shocked.

 “Don’t look so surprised. I’m tired. Some of us have been at work you know. I need a cup of tea and my bed.”

“It’s like I don’t know even you anymore.” Harry mumbles into his glass and Niall swats him gently around the head.

-

This is bad. This is really bad.

“Zayn!”

“I’m a bit busy at the minute Louis, yeah?” He glares not-so-subtly at Louis.

“Mr. Tomlinson, we meet again.”

Now it’s Zayn’s turn to look worried.

“You two know each other.” Is that a question?

“Yeah Liam here came and introduced himself to me earlier. He’s a representative with Wrekked Records and recognised me from one of your gigs.” Louis teeth are clamped stupidly close together as he talks, as though he’s just shoved a bunch of toffee in his mouth.

“Yeah, sorry. Should have introduced myself straight away really.” Liam blushes a little as he extends his hand to Zayn who looks as though he’s just walked in on his grandma in the shower. He shakes Liam’s hand stiffly.

“Well I should be going really. Here’s my card. Give me a ring, we’ll set up a meeting. You’ve turned a lot of heads lately Zayn. Don’t forget to call.”

Louis waits until Liam is safely out of the room to speak.

“So…”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.”  

Louis takes a gulp from his drink to stifle his laughter.

“At least you got his number.”

Zayn looks as though he can’t decide whether to strangle Louis first or run into traffic.

-

The next week is particularly busy for Louis and he barely has time to exchange more than a few texts with Zayn, who is still smarting over the Liam Fiasco. Louis has no time to console him however as auditions are beginning for this year’s Spring production and there are an unprecedented number of names on the sign-up sheet.

In between trying to control his Junior drama class, marking papers and planning essays, all whilst trying to fight off a cold that has been coming for weeks, he hardly has a moment to himself. When Friday rolls around he’s ready for a hot bubble bath and an early night. He breathes a sigh of relief as he exits the lift on his floor, checking his watch. 7:59. Not bad.

He can practically feel the bubbles.

He pulls out his key as his rounds the corner-

“What the fuck… Zayn?”

There is a very unwelcome sight on his welcome mat.

“Zayn? Hey Zayn, wake up.” He kneels at his friend’s side and nudges him not-so-very-gently.

“Erghhh?”

“English please Malik. Open your eyes, there’s a good lad. What’s happening? Why are you on my doorstep and why do you smell like a bottle of Vodka threw up on you?”

“Too many…so many...so many questions”

Louis runs his fingers exasperatedly through his hair as Zayn’s eyes close again.

“Come on sleepyhead, inside. You don’t have to talk but you sure as hell can’t kip out here, what on earth will the neighbours think.”

It takes a bit of effort and a few swift kicks but he manages to get Zayn inside in just under fifteen minutes. It takes a little more coaxing to get him onto the sofa in the living room and by the time he’s taken off Zayn’s shoes and coat, coerced a pint of water down his throat and covered him with a  blanket, Louis is about ready to hit the booze himself.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning, young man. The bucket by the sofa is for vomit only. Please make use of it. And if you’re going to die, please do so quietly.” He kisses Zayn on the forehead and switches off the lamp beside him.

“Sleep well.”

Zayn’s already snoring softly. Louis rubs his eyes as he walks out of the room and into the kitchen, which is really just an extension of the lounge. He feels quite exhausted by the ordeal. Zayn’s lucky Louis loves him, that’s for sure. He heats a mug of soup in the microwave and carries it carefully into his bedroom, setting it down on his bedside table before stripping down to his boxers and falling into bed.

He rearranges a few cushions and slides his legs under the duvet. Paradise. He looks around at these familiar four walls, taking in the photographs of his family and friends on the wall above his dresser, the wonderful familiar faces grinning back at him.

There is a pile of clean washing heaped on a loveseat in the corner and the room smells like laundry and vanilla essence. Orange light streams in gently from the streetlamp just outside and bathes the room in a beautiful soft glow.

Louis thinks about his life now, so different than he imagined it would be. His breathing steadies, slows, and his eyes flicker before closing completely. The soup cools on the side, entirely forgotten.

-

Harry tosses and turns in bed, half asleep, half awake, trapped in feverish nightmares. The inky darkness of his bedroom is spawning shapes, figures in the dark, ominous shadows by the window, ghouls by the closet.

The wind nudges at the window and a bead of sweat trickles from his forehead into his hair. He can’t move, can’t do more than twitch his hand. He hears the door opening and the creak of the floor as someone steps in. A whisper in the dark.

Hello Harry.

That voice. Enough to terrify him to the bones even at a whisper.

He can see the man’s shadow as it crosses the room. He needs to move, needs to wake up, needs to scream.

You thought you could run from me Harry? You thought I’d forget about you?

His heart is hammering now, so hard it almost hurts. He feels a breath on his neck and a hand at his throat when-

“Harry!” The lights are on and he can move again. He is curled in a ball in the centre of his bed, shivering and sweating and crying.

“Jesus Harry, you scared me half to death! What are you screaming for?” Niall’s accent is heavier, thick with sleep and worry.

“Nothing. Bad dream. Just a bad dream.”

“Sounded like more than just a bad dream Harry. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

“No, don’t be silly.” But his voice shakes. Niall climbs in beside him, pulling the cover over Harry who has positioned himself further up the bed. He feels a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Well I’m staying for my own sake. That screaming scared me shitless.”

Harry lies still, listening to the reassuring in and out of Niall’s breathing, slowing as he falls into sleep. The younger boy knows that it will take him a lot longer to succumb.

-

It is heaven not to be woken by a screeching alarm the next morning and Louis relishes opening his eyes to warm sunlight instead of blue gloom. He stretches his arms above his head luxuriously and yawns. He can hear movement in the kitchen and the smell of tea and toast. Either Zayn is awake and cooking up an apology in the kitchen or he has a very hungry burglar on his hands. He pulls on an old baggy t-shirt over his boxers and pads out into the kitchen.

“Morning sunshine.”

Zayn turns, a whisk in one hand and a bowl of eggs in the other.

“Morning Boo Bear. Take a seat. I took the liberty of rustling us up some brekkie, hope you don’t mind. Your tea’s on the side.”

Louis picks up the mug and cradles it in his hands, enjoying its warmth.

“So. Last night.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“It’s not every day I come home to find a musician passed out on my doorstep like a horrible little orphan baby.”

“Horrible orphan baby? Jesus Louis that’s a bit harsh isn’t it? I’m scrambling eggs for you over here, man.”

“I apologise. Please, do explain.”

“Well I had originally only planned to get drunk enough to forget the beautiful and unobtainable Liam Payne, you see. But it seems I, uh, got a bit carried away and managed to forget my own name as well, and also apparently my address.”

“And your heart just led you here. You know I’m flattered Zayn but there’s really no sexual chemistry for me at all.”

“Such a smart arse in the morning.” Zayn scowls but there’s laughter in his eyes.

“You know me. Anyway, how are you so chipper? You were totally gone last night.”

“I’m just blessed, Louis. On an unrelated note, please don’t look in that bucket.”

“Horrible child.”

“Shut up and eat your eggs.” Zayn pushes a plate towards Louis. “See if you can guess the special ingredient.”

“So long as it’s not pubes again, mate.”

“THAT WAS NOT A PUBE IT WAS MY HAIR AND THAT WAS ONE TIME.”

“Alright alright, jeez the whole building doesn’t need to hear about your shedding.”

Zayn scowls again and turns his attention to the washing up. The kitchen is blissfully silent for a few moments as Zayn turns the tap on and Louis chews his breakfast thoughtfully.

“It was a definitely a pube.”

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD LOUIS-”

Chapter Text

CH3: The One Where Fate Is Still Taking Her Time

Harry has never had quite so many rejections in one week.

Underqualified.

Just not what we’re looking for.

Try again next year.

Best of luck for the future.

It’s Wednesday and he is already sick of this week, exhausted at being so unwanted. He screws the most recent rejection letter up and into a ball and attempts to launch it from his place on the sofa into the kitchen bin.

It misses. Typical. He really is a failure at everything.

Groaning with the effort he heaves himself up and goes to retrieve the ball of disappointment which is lodged between the bin and the wall along with some unappetizing remnants of meals that Niall had clumsily scraped away.

His hand grazes a pizza crust and heshudders. He makes a mental note to schedule another deep clean before they get rats.

Got it.

His hand closes over the ball of paper and he lifts it out. Just as he is about to dispose of it for good something in amongst the rubbish catches his eye. A familiar red and gold header buried under vegetable peelings and bread crusts.

TAKING APPLICANTS NOW.

He frowns and picks it out gingerly by the corner, shaking it to dislodge a carrot peeling that is still clinging on. Harry’s forehead creases with confusion as he reads.

A vacancy at Coles and Niall didn’t think to even mention it? What the fuck?

It seems all Niall can talk about at the moment, finding Harry a job and getting him settled in. So what gives? Is Harry that much of a fuck up that he can’t be trusted to even run some errands at Niall’s precious school?

I’ll show him. Harry flips open the lid of his laptop on the counter and presses the on button. He boils the kettle and cracks his fingers, ready to write the best job application that the world has ever seen.

Once he’s had his coffee, that is.

-

“Harry.”

Harry doesn’t move.

“Harry.”

Harry stares fixedly at the television screen, watching the advert for easy-application tampons with the same close attention he would afford a news broadcast signalling the discovery of life on the moon.

“Harry you can’t ignore me all night.”

“Can’t I?”

“A-ha!”

“Damn it. Starting again now.”

“Harrrrry.” Niall whines and extends his legs from his side of the sofa to gently nudge Harry’s side with his feet. “Harry pack it in I said I was sorry.”

“You said you were sorry. You didn’t say why you were sorry.”

Niall sighs heavily and tucks his legs back underneath him.

“Fine, if you want to know why. I didn’t tell you about the job because honestly, I still think you might take off.”

Harry whips his head around to face Niall.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s not the craziest idea Haz, I mean come on, I’ve barely seen you for the past 2 years, you turn up on my doorstep, no warning, won’t tell me why you left Uni. If you get this job and run out on me again…well it’s my neck on the line. You left me once Harry, remember that.”

Harry’s neck is warm and his hands are balling into fists in his lap. “You’re making it sound like I abandoned you.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No! I didn’t Niall! I had to watch you get serious and start your life, and I had to go. I had to get out.”

“You could have said goodbye.”

“Would you have let me go.”

Niall pauses. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

There’s a heavy silence for a few seconds before Niall speaks again.

“I’m sorry dude. I should have told you about the job.”

“No, I’m sorry. I know I fucked up when I left, and I’ve been fucking up ever since-” Niall opens his mouth to protest. “No Niall, I have. I shouldn’t have gone without saying something. You deserved more than a note.”

“Wasn’t even a very good note.”

“Oi, I worked hard on that.”

Harry grins and stretches out on the sofa so his feet are resting against Niall’s.

“We okay Ni?”

“Always. Now stop being such a whiny bitch, get me your application, a red pen and a beer. It’s gunna be a long night.”

By the time they finish redrafting, editing and redrafting again, it’s almost midnight and Harry and Niall are standing over the printer tray like two new parents watching a sleeping child.

“It’s so beautiful.” Harry reaches out his hand to pick it up.

“Don’t, don’t, you’ll smudge it. Let me.” He grabs the corner and lifts it up to study it in the light. “Well I’d hire you if that makes you feel better.”

“You might have to if the interview doesn’t go well. And are you sure you can sneak that into the pile?”

“Stop feckin’ worrying, I said I’d sort it didn’t I. Now get to bed.”

“Yes Dad.” He yelps as Niall grabs him in a playful headlock.

“Oi don’t forget who’s been paying your rent.”

-

And true to his word, Niall gets to work bright and early the next day, Harry’s application in hand and heads straight for the Drama office on the second floor.

He’s ambushed briefly outside of the auditorium by the Dutch cleaner who he suspects has a bit of a thing for him, but he manages to wriggle away with an excuse about an urgent meeting in the stationary cupboard.

She nods understandingly as he jogs towards the stairwell. Good old Ada.

He rounds the corner and sees the office at the end of the hall. Home stretch. Door unlocked, pile of applications right in the middle of the first desk. Perfect.

Harry’s always teased Niall for being incredibly lucky and he thinks for once he knows what he’s talking about. He slots the paper in somewhere near the top, then checks his watch on the way out of the building. 8:30.

Still plenty of time to swing to McDonald’s for some well-deserved breakfast.

-

Friday night is Quiz Night at Simon’s and is guaranteed to be busy, though it’s especially packed since Niall’s manager Andy decided to hire a proper DJ and offer student deals on drinks.

Niall wipes his forehead and checks the clock. Still another 3 hours on his shift. He’s pouring what must be his hundredth Jaeger bomb of the night when he spots a familiar quiff of dark hair approaching the bar.

“Hey, Zayn! How you doing man?” Niall waves him over as he hands over a fistful of change to the grungy looking student in front of him. From behind Zayn a handsome guy in a camel trench coat and smart trousers appears.

“Alright Niall, how you been?”

“Not bad, mate, not bad.” He looks pointedly at the man next to Zayn, who wouldn’t look out of place on a Burberry catwalk.

“Oh, Niall, this is Liam. Liam this is Niall.” Niall wipes his hands on a cloth before shaking Liam’s in greeting.

“Nice to meet you. How do you two know each other?” He directs the question at Liam, who smiles warmly before he speaks.

“I’m an agent over at Wrekked Records. I’ve been pursuing Zayn here for quite some time. I’m trying to get him to sign with us.”

“Shit man, that’s pretty cool.”

Zayn grunts in apparent agreement.

“Enthusiastic as ever, Zayno. Anyway. What can I get you two handsome chaps? On the house of course.”

“Seriously? Thanks dude. I’m driving so I’ll just have a lemonade, Zayn what would you-”

“Whiskey and coke. Double. Cheers.”

Niall raises his eyebrows but makes no comment. “I’ll bring them over. You two grab a table before these arsehole students” – this earns him more than a few dark looks from the punters at the bar–“get all the good seats.”

Liam shoots him that warm smile again before he and Zayn snake their way through the crowd to a table right in the corner by the window. Suave coat wearing bastard, Niall thinks, reaching up to get the good bottle of Whiskey he knows that Zayn likes. If I wasn’t so damn straight I’d go for him myself.

-

“My boss really liked your earlier stuff, they played ‘Black Motel’ for weeks in the office. The PR girls couldn’t get enough.”

“Really? I can’t stand that one myself. Wrote it in some girl’s bathroom, hammered. Thought I was bloody Kurt Cobain or some bollocks. I’m done with that shit now.”

“Good.”

“Good? You mean you don’t buy into the angsty bullshit you agents usually love?”

“No. I like your recent stuff, it’s got soul. It’s got substance.”

“You don’t think I sound like a wannabe rockstar?”

“No I think you sound like Zayn Malik, no wannabe involved. I think you can hear the desperation in Black Motel. I think you can hear the longing for authenticity, honesty. That’s what we get with your recent stuff. ‘Blameless’, ‘Seventeen’, ‘King Jack’. These are all songs that I could put on an album. These are songs I can sell. And ‘Stranger’, too. That gave me goosebumps, I’m not joking.”

Zayn is speechless. The arrogant moodiness from earlier is gone. This guy gets it. He actually gets it. He realises that he’s staring at him like a lovesick puppy, panics and takes a huge swig from his drink, missing his mouth and sending a stream of brown liquid down his chin and onto the table.

Liam laughs. “Here.” He grabs a paper napkin from the dispenser in front of him and gently swipes it under his chin before pushing it into Zayn’s hands.

“Thanks.” Zayn mumbles, his face getting hotter and hotter. He thanks god for the dim lighting.

“Anyway, I’ll stop putting pressure on you. Just promise me you’ll have a think. I know how scary it is to be a musician just starting out. But I swear to you, if you sign with me I will do everything in my power to make this happen the way you want it to. We’ll go slow, I’ll keep you safe, I’ll make sure that your songs stay perfect. Promise.” He’s moved closer to Zayn now, his eyes staying locked on. “What do you say?”

Zayn swallows and nods. “I say let’s do this.”

Liam’s smile is spreads across his whole face, creasing his eyes at the corners. Zayn smiles back, transfixed by the man’s beautiful white teeth. He thinks he feels something shift in the air between them. An electricity builds, an almost palpable chemistry. He leans forward in his chair, ever so slightly and Liam does the same-

“GOOD EVENING WEMBLEY!” The lights above them burst into life and Niall’s voice booms from the speakers overhead and the two men spring apart. “AND WELCOME TO THE MOST IMPORTANT EVENT OF THE WEEK…YOU’VE GOT IT…SIMON’S QUIZ NIGHT!”

The crowd goes wild and Niall, who is stood precariously on a chair in the middle of the bar, revels in the attention.

“SETTLE DOWN SETTLE DOWN! NOW FIRST A QUICK RECAP OF THE RULES- ooh, Tommo! Tommo! Stan! Hey lads, over here, there’s seats by Zayn. No over here. He’s with a guy. But it’s not a date, no chance.”

Zayn wants to die. The other customers are looking curiously round at Zayn and Liam’s table as Niall seems to have no concept of public and private discourse and is pointing directly at them as he speaks into the mic.

Louis appears through the crowd, apologising profusely to anyone he knocks on the way through the packed bar. He and Stan quickly locate some chairs and sit down with Zayn and Liam. Niall is outlining the rules as one of the other barmaids hands round pens and paper to the baying crowd.

“We interrupting anything?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Liam and Zayn look at each other, and Liam grins.

“We’ll discuss the rest another time. Dinner maybe?”

“Okay.” Zayn blushes again. There’s something about Liam that turns him into a total schoolboy. Stan and Louis squabble over the pen.

“AAAAND ON WITH THE QUIZ. FIRST ROUND IS GEOGRAPHY- Oi I said phone’s off Table 12, don’t make me come over there.”

Liam is staring intently at Niall, waiting for the first question. Zayn tries briefly to focus, tries to listen to anything but the thudding of his heart in his chest, tries to look anywhere but directly at Liam, but he can’t, and not for the first time in his life, Zayn gives in to his desires and stares.

-

“We should have bloody won. It’s an outrage.” Louis is standing at the bar with Stan, waiting to get served.

“Tell me about it. I still think the answer to number 7 was Tel Aviv.” Stan digs around in his pocket and pulls out a fiver. “I need a piss, get me a pint would you.” He stumbles off tipsily towards the loos.

Louis leans on the bar, counting out his change in his hand. He tries to remember a time when he didn’t spend his Friday nights debating general knowledge with a group of men all old enough to be his grandfather.

“Alright gorgeous.” He feels warm breath uncomfortably close to his neck and he flinches and turns. An older guy in a grey suit with slicked back hair is leering over him, a cocky half smile plastered on his lips. He looks like he’s in his late 30s, early 40s maybe, and his aftershave is musky and overpowering.

“Can I help you?” Louis’ tone is blunt.

“Maybe you can, maybe you can’t.” The man sways slightly on his feet. “What’s your name, darling.” He leans in to Louis who takes a small step back until he feels the bar behind him.

“I’m Wally. Now if you’ll excuse me.” But the man’s arm is out and he blocks Louis in.

“Now that’s not very polite is it?”

“I’m not trying to be polite, now if you don’t mind..” He attempts to walk away again but the arm stays firm.

“Lucky for you I like it when boys play hard to get.” And then his arms are on Louis’ waist and he’s pushing him towards the corner and he’s far stronger than Louis, even in his inebriated state.

“Oi!” Louis hears Zayn behind the stranger and a second later the horrible tightness of the man’s hands around his waist is gone as Zayn drags him off.

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at, you slimy prick? You wanna keep your hands to yourself.” Zayn has one of his own hands gripping the man’s collar.

“You’re having a laugh? Me touching him? You couldn’t pay me.” He tries to wriggle free of Zayn’s grip.

“Yeah looked like it. Do it again and you’ll regret it.” Liam is standing at Zayn’s side, forehead knitted together and a hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

Louis shakes himself out of his shocked daze.

“Leave it Zayn. He’s not worth it. He’s pathetic.”

“You’re right.” Zayn loosens his grip and lets the man go. The stranger stands up straight and looks Zayn long and hard in the eye before turning and walking away. He’s hardly two paces when he turns slightly and laughs.

“Fag.”

And with that one word hell breaks loose.

Zayn is on top of him in an instant, knocking over a few drinks in his haste. And then his weight is on him, his knees over his stomach, pinning him down and his hands tight at his collar as he shakes him violently.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU FUCKING SAY?” Zayn screams, slamming the man’s head against the carpeted floor. Louis tries to get at him but the crowd is too thick. Niall’s tried to jump across the bar but is similarly trapped.

“Zayn! That’s enough Zayn, please.” Zayn hears Liam’s voice in his ear, feels his strong hands on his arms, pulling him back, firmly but gently all at once. And in a truly out of character act, he listens to the person telling him to do the right thing. He lets Liam pull him up and away. The guy on the ground jumps up and bolts faster than anyone could say ‘homophobic closeted little shit head”.

Louis pushes through the thinning crowd to Zayn who is visibly shaking with rage. Liam is talking low in his ear, one hand on his waist, the other at the back of his head. Zayn spots Louis and bites his lip, pulling away from Liam and going towards him.

“I’m sorry mate, I dunno what happened, I know I promised you I’d stop doing shit like this it’s just-” Louis doesn’t even let him finish before enveloping him in a bone crushing hug.

They wait for Stan to come out of the loo, thank Niall for a great quiz, and make their exits quickly before anyone else decides to take on Zayn Malik, bar brawler extraordinaire. Louis gets out his phone to call a cab but Liam shakes his head and offers them all a ride.

Louis shoots an approving look at Zayn when he leads them over to a beautiful sleek black range rover. Zayn climbs in the front and Louis and Stan get comfy in the back. It certainly puts Louis’ rusty banger to shame and the cream leather seats in the back are more comfortable than any sofa he’s ever owned. He makes a mental note to tease Zayn for finding the perfect potential sugar daddy.

The drive is smooth and tranquil. Liam plays a CD, something mellow and beautiful that Louis has never heard before. He looks at Zayn in the front who is staring at Liam not at all subtly. He’s lucky that Liam is currently in control of a vehicle and therefore oblivious, or he might take a restraining order out there and then.

Stan is snoozing next to him and Louis looks fondly at his friend before turning his head to watch the city melt past the window. He loves Manchester at this time of night, the quiet streets contrasting the noise and thunder of the inner city. He complains about it sure, but there’s nowhere he’d rather live but here. Liam slows down at traffic lights, running his hands up and down the gearstick absentmindedly.

Louis watches Zayn bite his lip, looking as though he’s about to climax there and then.

Louis covers his mouth to stifle laughter and winds down his window, wanting to feel the cold air on his face.

He freezes, eyes wide.

It can’t be.

But it is.

Less than two metres from the car, there he stands, the beautiful green eyed boy from Simon’s. It’s him. It’s definitely, impossibly, amazingly him. And he’s looking right at Louis.

He’s standing on the pavement, arms crossed against the cold, wearing nothing but jeans and leather boots and a thin white t-shirt. Louis can see his skin puckering into goosebumps and the violent purple of his lips.

He wants to call out to him. He wants to get out of the car and run over, take off his own coat and wrap him up and hold him until the colour comes back to his cheeks. But he can’t move, can’t do anything but stare into the boy’s eyes and feel them burning back.

There is a dreadful sadness in his face, such a painful contrast to the laughter and joy that had radiated from him when they had first run into one enough by the loos.

And then the lights change from amber to green and Liam eases his foot up off the clutch and they’re moving. Too quickly, too fast and Louis hasn’t even had time to memorise every vein on the strangers arm before he’s gone. Louis turns in his seat to look out of the rear window, desperate for a last look, but they’ve come too far, and for the second time in less than two weeks, he feels like he’s lost something he’s never even had.

-

Zayn sleeps over that night. Louis makes them toast when they get in and listens to Zayn’s lovestruck ramblings about Liam. He laughs and nods encouragingly, but his mind is still fixed on the boy. Why had he been out alone at midnight with no coat? Who was he, what was his name, and how on earth had he managed to bewitch Louis with barely a few words spoken between them? 

He’s still thinking about him an hour later, with Zayn sleeping deeply beside him. You Tommo, he thinks to himself as he turns over to face the wall, are absolutely screwed.

-

Niall slams the door of the flat when he gets in, tired and annoyed. Harry had promised to turn up and help him with the quiz but the lazy bastard had never showed, leaving him to pack up and walk home alone. He gets himself a glass of water, wondering why a curly head hasn’t poked its way round the corner to berate Niall for waking him up.

Niall sets down his glass and wanders out into the narrow hallway.

“Harry?”

No reply.

“Harry?” He pushes opens Harry’s door and the hallway light illuminates the room. Empty.

Niall reaches into his pocket for his phone. No messages. Shit. He walks back into the kitchen and is about to dial Harry’s phone when he sees it on the counter. Double shit. He checks out the small balcony and the bathroom. Empty.

Harry’s not here.

Niall spots his coat still hanging on the hook by the door. His mouth dries up, despite the water and his ears begin to ring with panic. Grabbing his keys he strides over to the door and yanks it open.

“Harry! Jesus Christ I was just about to send a search party you daft prick- Harry? Shit Harry.”

Harry is glassy eyed and shaking. He stumbles into the flat and collapses into an armchair in the small living room. Niall’s at his side in an instant.

“What’s happened? Talk to me. Jesus Christ Harry you’re freezing.” He grabs the blanket from the sofa and wraps it around Harry, whose teeth and chattering violently.

“Please Harry, tell me you’re alright.”

Harry nods, his lips blue.

“I j-just w-went for a w-walk. I’m f-fine.” His chest jolts with strained, uneven breaths.

“Jesus Harry, what goes through your head sometimes.” He wraps his friend up tight, rubbing his horribly cold hands in his own.

“Take a bloody coat next time, you feel like a fucking corpse.”

Harry attempts a laugh, but it sounds false and hollow, so he shuts up and just lets Niall rub the life back into him.

-

The next morning Harry acts like nothing happened, and Niall lets him, terrified that discussing it will push him further away. He lets Harry make him breakfast and chew his ear off about something hilarious he read online this morning. He leaves him to wash up and sing along to the radio whilst he showers, and whilst he’s shampooing he’s struck with a brilliant idea.

“Harry, I couldn’t help but notice that your room- how can I put this nicely- looks fucking terrible?”

“Heeey, it’s minimal chic.”

“It’s minimal shite.”

Harry grins. “Well what do you suggest.”

“I suggest” Niall responds, towelling his dirty blonde hair “an epic fucking shopping trip.”

-

Four hours later and Niall is slightly regretting his enthusiasm. They must have been in every antique shop, every department store, every charity shop by now, but Harry’s veracity for spending hadn’t abated.

“Jesus Christ, Styles, you must be running out of money by now?”

“Not even close.”

-

Zayn has never been one for impulsive purchases, and everything in his flat has been chosen with the utmost precision and care.

Apart from that bloody red clock.

He’s been wandering around central Manchester for 45 minutes looking for new photo-frames and other odds and ends, but so far nothing has been up to scratch.

He’s standing in the market tugging at his earring absent-mindedly whilst turning over a cast iron candle holder in his hand when he hears his name being yelled. He sees a blonde quiff bobbing towards him.

“Niall! Hello mate. Alright Harry. What are you two up to?”

“Buying everything in Manchester apparently.”

“Looks like it.” Zayn chuckles softly at their many bags. “I was meaning to call you actually Ni. What are you both doing next Friday, cos Liam’s invited me to a party at King’s in town and told me to invite who I like. Fancy it?”

“Yeah mate, sounds wicked. Count us in. Harry’s got his interview at Cole’s on Monday so hopefully we’ll have something to celebrate.”

“No way…You know it’s Lou doing the interviews now?” Zayn has a wicked glint in his eye.

“Wait what? What appened to Agatha?”

“She tripped over one of her cats.”

“Again? How many cats has she got now?”

“Lou reckons she must have 2 dozen easily.”

“Um-” Harry clears his throat. Niall and Zayn turn, looking as though they’d quite forgotten he was there. “Who’s Lou?”

“Lou, you know, Louis? Louis Tomlinson. Come on Harry I’ve mentioned him a hundred times.”

He sighs exasperatedly at Harry’s blank expression.

“Well it’s good news, he’s a mate so I can talk you up.”

“I’m sure you’ll make a great impression, Harry.” Zayn says. His eyes are still gleaming.

-

“So you’re saying Louis likes American musicals, cups of tea and books about World War One? Does he like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain as well?” Harry pauses chopping vegetables to raise his eyebrows as Niall.

“I sense you’re not taking this seriously.”

“What tipped you off? Jeez Nialler, it’s a job interview, not a first date! What do you expect me to do, trick him into giving me a job by pretending I cried during Grease?”

“You did cry during Grease.”

“Beside the point. Look, the interview’s at 11 tomorrow morning, the best I can do is get a good night’s sleep, put on my- well your- best tie, dazzle him with the old Styles charm and by the time I leave that office-”

“You’ll be headed for the job centre?” Niall laughs and covers his head as Harry pelts potato peelings at him.

-

This is not Harry’s first interview. He’s worked in bars on practically every continent, picked berries in Brazil, delivered pizza in Madrid and sold over priced clothes in New York City. So why am I so nervous? He tosses and turns all night and when eventually he does succumb to sleep he dreams of long corridors and ominous black doors. When he wakes the next morning he looks pale and drawn.

“Christ mate, you’re not looking too clever.” Niall comments when Harry trudges out into the kitchen at 8:05am.

“Bad night’s sleep.” He plonks himself down at the small kitchen table and steals a bite of Niall's toast.

“Well the interview’s not for a few hours so get yourself in the shower and chug a couple of coffees. You’re gunna be fine.”

“I know.” Harry forces a grin, but the knot in his stomach is tying itself tighter and tighter with every passing second.

-

Louis’ first few interviews aren’t terrible. Sure, he stumbles over his words a little to start, but he thinks his questions are insightful and thought provoking. Nobody’s laughed in his face yet, and that has to be a promising sign.

By 10:40 he’s shaken the hands of 6 strangers, poured over their CVs and grilled them about work experience. It’s a bit bloody exhausting. He’s about ready just pick a name out of the hat and give them the job if it means he can stop this whole ridiculous business and go back to teaching his kids. It’s only been one morning and he already misses their stupid sarcastic little faces.

He checks his watch, 10:52. He has another 10 minutes before the next candidate arrives, some friend of Niall’s, Harold someone, and he’s gagging for a cuppa. He walks over to his the little tea station in the corner and boils the kettle, dragging his thumb across some spilt sugar.

He’s just finished adding his milk and is sitting at his desk when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.” He lifts his head up to say hello, but chokes on his words when he sees the figure in the doorway.

It’s him.

It’s definitely him.

His mouth drops open and his head juts forward in disbelief. It’s unmistakably the boy he covered in orange juice.

The boy has paused in the doorway, a similarly startled expression on his face. Neither of them seem capable of speech or movement. This must be some cosmic joke, he thinks. But before he has time to ponder this further-

“SHIIIT” Louis’ crotch is suddenly on fire, and this absolutely not a metaphor. He jumps up, his lap a mess of boiling tea, and frantically looks around for tissues.

“Here.” The boy rushes forward, a box of Kleenex in hand and a worried expression on his face. “Are you alright?” He asks as Louis dabs at his crotch, agony and humiliation etched on his features.

“I’m fine, just an idiot. I’m just a bit surprised, that’s all. Sorry.” He extends a rather shaky hand to Harry who is hovering uncertainly on the other side of the desk, ignoring the awful flipping feeling in his stomach when their fingers touch for the first time. “Please take a seat.”

“So you’re Niall’s Louis?” He asks, disbelief leaving him a little breathless. All his plans for professional behaviour are out the window.

Louis nods, eyes still wide.

“And you’re Niall’s Harry. Or is it Harold?” He frowns.

“It’s Harry. Just Harry. I can’t- it’s just- we met at the pub didn’t we, you-”

“Drowned you in orange juice, I remember. And was it you, Friday night, freezing your arse off at the traffic lights.” The smile falters for a second but then Harry nods.

“That was me. Small world, eh?”

“Curiouser and curiouser.” Louis murmurs, still dabbing at his lap.

“Ravens and writing desks.” Harry says, no hint of mocking in his face. Louis raises his eyebrows.

“So, weirdness aside…let’s talk about the job before we totally run out of time and Niall skins us both.” Louis clears his throat and attempts to be professional, pulling out Harry’s CV from the pile. “So…pretty impressive rap sheet. Anywhere you haven’t been?”

Harry grins. Dimples. Oh sweet mother of god.

“The North Pole. Never been there. And Paris. I’m dying to go.”

“The city of love.”

Good one, Tomlinson, I’m sure he’s never heard that one before.

Harry nods in agreement. “So they say.”

“So, why do you think you’d be suited for this position?” Louis forces himself back into interview mode and tries to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of the tea cooling in his lap.

“Well…I’ve always loved working with young people, I love the theatre, I love music. I can think for myself, I’m not scared of a bit of hard work either.” Harry is leaning forward, his hands flat on his thighs, and Louis cannot help but stare at his outrageous jawline.

“Uh..yeah. Good answer. Um…” he shifts the stack of papers in front of him, willing his brain to come up with a follow up question. “Where do you live?” Shit, what?

Harry lets out a low chuckle.

“I’ve been living with Niall for the past couple of weeks.”

Couple of weeks? Louis thinks, mentally scolding himself for not popping by at least once to borrow some bloody sugar or something.

Idiot Idiot Idiot.

“You’re  not very good at interviews are you?” Harry smiles crookedly over at him.

“Not really.” Louis admits. “I’ve never really had to do any before, sort of wish I was on your side of the desk again.”

“No chance! I’m terrified.”

“You don’t seem it.”

“Sure I am. Quaking in my boots.” He taps his shoe demonstratively. Sure enough, brown leather boots. “Niall told me not to wear them, but they’re my lucky ones so...”

“And are you? Feeling lucky I mean.”

“Well I ran into you again didn’t I?”

Louis’ heart does a little dance in his chest.

“You’re just saying that so I give you the job.”

“Am not. Although I’ll flatter you some more if it does the trick.”

Louis giggles, which is a miracle in itself. He thanks God that Zayn isn’t here to see this or he’d have a bloody field day.

A knock at the door brings him back down to earth.

“Mr. Tomlinson?” Becky, the receptionist, is poking her head round the door “Your next candidate is here.”

He nods and tells her he won’t be a moment, raising his eyebrows as she devours Harry with her eyes.

“A moment, Becky.” She snaps her eyes back to Louis and nods curtly before closing the door.

“Looks like our time is up.” And Louis almost imagines he sees a ghost of disappointment flit across Harry’s face. They stand.

“Well it was nice meeting you. Again.”

“You too. I’ll be in touch.”

“You better be.” Harry’s voice is quiet but clear as crystal. Bloody hell. They shake hands again, more firmly this time and then Harry turns and walks out of the door, and Louis finds that he can finally breathe again.

Curiouser and curiouser.

-

Niall almost falls off his chair when Harry tells him what happened. This may be mostly because he is standing on the chair to change a lightbulb when Harry bursts into the auditorium shouting his name, but still.

“And I recognised him straight away. Fucking weird, don’t you think?” Harry is sitting at Niall’s feet, eating a packet of crisps and chattering away.

“Very. Hand me that bulb.”

“Yeah and we just got on, it was weird, like weirdly well.”

“The bulb Harry.”

“Oh sorry. Here. So yeah, that’s all over. Feel a bit weird now. The whole thing is just…what’s the word?”

“Weird?”

“Exactly.”

Harry’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

(Unknown Number)

In response to your application for the position of Assistant to the Heads of Department at Cole Institute, I am pleased to inform you that we are offering you the job. Your working day will begin tomorrow at the Martin Song Auditorium with me, Louis Tomlinson. 9AM sharp. Ps. Your boots will not be welcome.

“No fucking shit! I got the job!

Niall cheers and fist pounds the air.

“You little beauty!”

Harry wipes his hands on his trousers, picks up his phone and taps out a response to Louis.

Amazing. Can’t wait. The boots have officially got their marching orders. X PS. Offering jobs by text, not exactly by the book? :P

The reply comes a few moments later.

Nothing I do is by the book. 9am. Don’t be late.

Chapter Text

CH4: The One Where Trouble Seems To Follow Harry Around

Harry’s first week of work is hectic to say the least. He arrives at work with Niall, who walks him to meet Louis at the auditorium.

He stops a few metres from where Louis is standing. “Good luck mate.” He turns to address the other man. “Go easy on him Tomlinson, or it’ll be hell to pay.” He leaves them alone. Harry grins sheepishly at Louis.

“Let’s get to work.”

He spends the first hour giving Harry the tour of the campus and it isn’t long before he’s overwhelmed with the number of buildings all over the grounds.

“And this building is for what?”

“Modern dance.”

“I thought the last one was modern dance.”

“No that was Latin Interpretive Funk.”

“And the one before that?”

“Experimental chicken dance.”

“Louis.”

“Yes?”

“Are you teasing me by any chance?”

“Oh curly, you have no idea.”

He swipes his access card and lets them back into the Main Building. They walk in comfortable silence back to Drama office.

“Now before I can let you loose, there’s just one more thing we need to do.” He digs in a drawer and pulls out an ancient looking polaroid camera. “Are you ready for your close-up, Mr Styles?”

-

“Harry, this is a serious business!” He shakes out the picture in his hand and adds it to a small pile on the table.

“It certainly is.”

“Well then put the banana down and stop messing around.”

Harry removes the banana from his head and relaxes his face into a normal expression. Louis lifts the camera to his face and counts down.

“3…2…1- Harry!”

“What was wrong with that one!”

“You had your tongue out.”

“Did I?”

“Harold. Last chance or you’ll be stuck with a cross eyed photo-ID for the next 6 months. I swear I’ll do it.”

Harry composes himself and stands up straight against the white wall. Louis steps towards him slowly, reaches out and fixes his collar, gently smoothing it out against his shoulder. A faint blush creeps up Harry’s neck and along his collarbone. He clears his throat and Louis looks up, a startled look crossing his face.

“There, perfect.” He steps back, almost tripping over the table as he does so.

“Say cheese.” He lifts the camera and for the first time Harry’s face stays serious. The black photo shoots slowly from the camera and Harry leans forward and grabs it before Louis has a chance. He shakes it as it comes to life.

“Will I do?” He hands the photo to Louis. Louis lifts it up and inspects it closely. “Be honest.” But Louis already knows he won’t be. If he was honest he’d tell him that he looks too perfect to be real, that the way his cheek dimples inwards makes his heart skip in his chest, and that the pink of his lips strikes him in a way that no piece of art or cheesy pop song has ever done.

“Eh, not bad Styles.” And it’s all he can do not to swoon when Harry grins goofily down at him.

-                                                                                                            

By the time 1 o’clock comes around Harry is ready for a break. He’s tidied the stationary cupboard with ruthless determination, organised a 5 year backlog of student files, and managed to untangle three different strands of stage lighting.

“Christ Harry, that was your work for the rest of the day.” Harry shrugs and bites off another chunk of pizza.

“Show off.” Niall smirks at Harry, who shoots him a faux-wounded look.

“You’re just jealous he’s more capable than you are.” Louis shoots back without thinking, a little more harshly than he meant. Luckily Niall seems to have missed the venom in his voice, too focused on his own lunch to care. But he catches Harry stealing glances at him from the other side of the table.

Niall grabs his glass of squash from the table in front and takes a huge swig, burping and wiping his mouth when he’s finished.

“Bloody charming.”

“Apologies. So Zayn’s on Friday, everybody still game?”

Harry clears his throat and nods, “Yeah if I’m still invited.”

“Course you are. You’ll be there?” He looks to Louis.

“I hadn’t decided, I have an essay due back in that morning so-”

“So you’ll get them done at lunch and come get hammered with us. Glad that’s settled.”

“I dunno...”

“Come on Louis.” Harry has put down his pizza and is looking intently over at him in such a way that it makes him want to gouge his own eyes out rather than let the boy down.

“Okay, okay. I’ll come.”

“Top form mate, top form. Now is that pizza going spare or do I have to starve?”

Louis chuckles and pushes his plate over to the ever-ravenous Irishman.

-

Louis lets Harry leave early that day as a reward for being so efficient (or an “arse-licking twat” if you’re to believe Niall). It’s a sunny day in Manchester, and despite the bitter wind, Harry can’t remember the last time he enjoyed a walk quite this much.

He grabs a cup of coffee from a vendor on the street and walks through the park, appreciating the beauty of the bare trees and the icy path. Even the one legged pigeons pecking at chips on the pavement seem to have a certain poetry about them. He takes a seat on a bench by a small pond, sipping his tea as he pulls out his phone. Three text messages.

Hello poppet, how are you? Been thinking about you today, missing you lots and lots and hope to see you soon. Love you darling, Mum xx

Oi Haz got work til 8 but i’ll bring food back, chinese or indian ?? xx

He shoots Niall a reply (Chinese obviously) and opens his last text.

Amazing work today Curly. Meet me at my office tomorrow at 9 for the grand unveiling of your photo ID. Get a good night’s sleep tonight, you’ll be working with me tomorrow. Louis x

Harry’s still grinning like an idiot when Niall walks in at 8:20 with Indian.

“I said Chinese, idiot.”

“Shit, did you? Sorry mate my head’s fried today.”

“It’s fine I’m only messing. Have a sit down, I’ll do that.” He takes the bag from him and finishes emptying it. He gets Niall a beer and takes it into the living area where he’s sitting, flicking through channels.

“Ooh, go back, The Notebook’s on.”

“The Notebook, Harry, for the love of god, you’ve seen that shit a million times.”

“It’s an absolute classic. Pleeease.”

Niall rolls his eyes but clicks back to it. Harry grins smugly as he wanders back into the kitchen to get their food. Niall kicks off his shoes and settles back into the sofa. Ryan Gosling smoulders onscreen. He pulls out his phone and taps out a text to Zayn.

Haz forcing me 2 watch the notebook-- send help xxx

-

Zayn laughs aloud when he reads the text. He snaps a picture and replies.

-

“Oi Harry, think you’ve met your soulmate.” Niall chucks his phone over to Harry’s end of the sofa and he picks it up.

On the screen is a picture of Louis sitting on the floor wrapped in a duvet. It’s taken from behind, Louis’ head slanted up to the screen, Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams beautifully framed on the television in front of him. Without thinking he quickly sends the picture to himself, deleting all evidence before throwing Niall’s phone back to him.

“The boy’s got good taste.”

“He’s 25, I don’t think you can call him a boy.”

“Oh shut up and pass me an onion bhaji.”

-

The next day Harry arrives bright and early again. He feels strangely excited on the bus, a little knot of excitement forming at the prospect of working with Louis. He even spent an extra ten minutes on his hair before Niall shouted at him to get out of the bathroom. (“I need a shit, shift your arse!”)

He smiles sheepishly at Louis, who is leaning against the door to his office sipping from a cup of tea as he waits.

“Alright curly. Today’s a big day in the Drama Department, we’ve got first rehearsals for the Spring showcase, and my lot- the Juniors- are notoriously rowdy on this day of term. Now don’t look so scared, you’ll be mostly backstage, but if they do give you any trouble just let me know and I’ll knock some heads together, alright?”

“Alright.”

Louis spends the next fifteen minutes showing Harry where all the props are (everywhere) and where they should go (half a dozen huge empty boxes), then claps him on the back and tells him to get started. It’s quite peaceful work, seated at the back of the stage, half hidden by a plastic bush, with a great view of Louis. Not that he’s looking. Obviously.

He has to admit that Louis is a great teacher. He’s enigmatic, funny, engaging. He includes everyone, gives them all a chance to shine. Harry wishes that he’d had a teacher like that when he was at school, might have given him the push he’d needed to apply to Cole’s himself. Niall managed it. The snide voice in his head again. He ignores it, continues folding costumes whilst shooting surreptitious glances at Louis until it’s time for break.

“Alright you horrible lot, I think we can leave it there. We’ve obviously got a lot of work to do, but I think we’ll be fine if we all work- Shivi I can see you trying to leave, and no you are not going to lunch wearing that eyepatch- there’s a good girl, back in the box. Uhh what was I saying…Oh sod it just go to lunch.”

There is a stampede as all the Juniors try and cram their way through the double doors and out to freedom and then Harry and Louis are alone.

“So how was that for you?” Louis hops up on stage and over to Harry’s little corner of the stage.

“Me? It was great for me but I got to hide in the corner. How do you stand up in front of that many pairs of eyes and just…shine like that?”

“Was I shining?” His eyes glow wickedly.

“Oh, you know what I mean. You’re not nervous, you keep them focused. It’s impressive.”

“I’m happy to have finally impressed you.” He grins. “Nah but there’s no science to it, it just takes practice. You just have to work out what people need and give it to them. These kids need someone who gives a shit about them, someone who won’t give up, someone who’ll laugh with them but also kick them up the arse when they need it. Anyone could do it.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Of course you could, you can do anything you want Harry. Just reach out and grab it.”

They stare at each other for a few intense seconds before Harry flinches and turns away, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Niall wants us to meet him in the cafeteria in 5.”

“Better get a move on then.” Louis reaches out his hand to help Harry up.

-

The rest of the week is a blur, as Harry is loaned out to almost every department in the school, all desperately trying to get prepared for the showcase.

He sees it all, serious post grads spewing Shakespeare, nervous first years poring over scripts, troups of confident dancers bursting into impromptu performances in the quad.

He barely has time to wonder when his life became a bizarre episode of High School Musical before he’s called to fix a broken projector or track down some eyelash glue or a million other things that keep him busy and frustratingly far away from a certain handsome drama teacher. It’s not until Friday that he’s back in the theatre with Louis.

“What needs doing?” And Louis just grins his goofy Louis grin and sets him to work and before Harry knows it it’s 5 o’clock and time to go home. He’s 10 minutes into his walk home and wondering if it’s about to snow when he hears a car slowing down beside him and Louis’ voice shouting his name.

“Hey Harry, get in.”

“You serious?”

“No, I’m joking. What do you think? Get in.” Harry jogs around to the other side of the car and jumps in.

“Thanks Louis.”

“Anytime. Jesus you look half frozen.” He cranks on the heating as he indicates and pulls away from the curb.

They drive in silence for a few minutes.

“So, one week in. How are you feeling about the job?”

“Honestly? I love it.”

“You do? Even though everybody’s high maintenance, and the heating sucks and you’re being horrendously overworked? Like seriously, you could sue.”

Harry laughs. “True but where else in the city am I gunna get a job where people randomly burst in to song around me? It’s amazing.”

Louis nods in agreement, eyes fixed on the road. There is music playing softly from the speakers and Harry hums along, reaching forward to turn it up.

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea- Darlin’ so it goes somethings are meant to be..”

“Didn’t have you down as an Elvis fan.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Mr Tomlinson.”

Louis only grins and stares ahead at the road.

“Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you…”

The song ends and so does the CD and the car is silent for a few moments as Louis turns into Harry’s road. He pulls up outside his building and kills the engine.

“Here we are.”

“Here we are.” Harry agrees, undoing his seatbelt and reaching into the back for his bag.

God he smells delicious. Louis thinks, then mentally scolds himself for being such a creep.

“Thanks for the lift, and thanks for- you know- the job and that.”

“It’s nothing, really you’ve earnt it.”

Harry is almost out the car when Louis’ heart bypasses his head-

“Drink.” He blurts. Harry stops and turns.

“Drink?”

“Yeah. A drink. We should get one. Before tonight I mean. At Simon’s. To celebrate.”

“Me and you?” Harry cocks his eyebrow playfully.

“Well..yeah. Just as mates, like. Obviously.” Despite the freezing air streaming into his car Louis can feel a damp warmth under his armpits.

“Sure. Pick me up at 7?”

“Fantastic. I mean, cool, yeah. Whatever. It’s whatever.”

Harry nods at Louis and shuts the car door, a bemused smile still tugging at his lips. Louis wants to hit him. And kiss him. And suck his-

Stop.

He watches Harry walk quickly into his building before dropping his head to the steering wheel. Shit.

-

Harry twitches nervously for the duration of the elevator ride up to his and Niall’s floor. A drink with Louis. Only Louis. Outside of work. With Louis. Just Louis.

There was nothing in his training to prepare him for this. The lift reaches his floor with a smug ding.

He fumbles for his keys and lets himself into the flat, throwing his coat on a chair in the kitchen. He checks the clock. 5:30. An hour and a half to get ready for what is absolutely definitely not a date. At all.

He is already wondering what to wear.

-

A few miles away across town Louis is almost home, and already mentally searching through his wardrobe. He has to look smart for Zayn’s thing, but too smart and Harry might get the wrong impression.

It’s a fashion minefield.

Why did he have to open his big mouth and invite Harry for a drink? He should be on his way home to cram in a few hours of marking before making a brief appearance at Zayn’s and then ducking out after a couple of hours and getting an early night. He should not be inviting beautiful young men out to get drunk.

Especially not beautiful and very possibly straight men.

The question of Harry’s sexuality is one Louis has been pondering. He’s so effortlessly charming with everyone around him that it’s bloody impossible to tell. He’s not short on attention from either sex, with eyes on him wherever he goes. Not that Louis notices.

Obviously.

-

40 minutes later and his room looks like a disaster area. The floor is a sea of multi coloured sweaters, shirts and blazers and he’s still undecided. Pre-Harry (ah, such a simpler time) he would have come home from work, thrown on a smart shirt, sprayed some aftershave and been good to go. He is having a crisis of style on a major scale and nobody to talk to but his long suffering fish Jennifer.

“I know what you’re thinking Jen, so don’t even start. Just tell me- blue jean or black?”

Jennifer swims in an aimless circle around her castle, pausing to study her reflection in the glass before wriggling behind a rock.

“You’re right, who wears blue jeans to a club.” He tugs on the jeans and fastens them, noticing they’re a little snug around his hips. He’s a slim guy, but he’s always had a bit of a tummy. He vows to cut back on ordering take-out pizza with Zayn and maybe do a sit up once in a while.

He flops back on his bed, still shirtless, still exasperated. As if Harry’s in his flat now giving a shit about what to wear. He’s probably forgotten. Oh god what if he’s forgotten. And what if he thinks Louis’ too keen, what if he laughs at him for not knowing the same cool music, what if his jokes aren’t funny-

“ENOUGH.” Louis shouts to the empty room.

Enough. Since when did Louis care what other people thought? That was Louis’ thing, his trump card. And his sense of humour? Well these are dark times indeed if he’s questioning his sense of humour.

He sits up in bed and runs his fingers through his soft, just blow dried hair.

Black jeans, white shirt, black vans. And no more doubt.

“You are a strong confident woman Tommo, you got this.”

-

“Stop pacing.”

“You stop pacing.”

“I’m not pacing. I’m sitting on my arse watching the footie.”

“Well watch the footie and let me be.”

“You’re distracting me with your feckin’ pacing! I can’t concentrate on the beautiful game with all that carry on.”

“I’m short circuit power walking.”

“You’re not, you’re just nervous for your date.”

“I’m not nervous.” Harry shoots back. “And it’s not a date!” He adds hastily when he sees the triumph in Niall’s face. “It’s not a date.” He repeats.

“Well then why do you smell like you’ve been swimmin’ in aftershave?”

“What? No I don’t. God, do I? Maybe I do. I’ll have another shower.”

“Behave yerself I’m only messing. Sit down, shut up and have a beer with me, and let me watch the bloody football.”

“You know if you love football so much you should just marry it.”

“Oh I would marry it. I’d marry it hard.” He thrust a drink into Harry’s hand. “Now shut up and drink. Solution to all your problems right there in a little can.”

Harry scowls, but takes a generous sip anyway. A little alcohol never hurt anybody.

-

The pub is pretty packed by the time Louis and Harry get there, although the quiz isn’t for another couple of hours, and Louis has to squint around before he spots a free table in the corner. He’d picked Harry up dead on 7o’clock, and they’d made pleasant conversation in the car. Harry had seemed relaxed when he’d climbed in the passenger seat, and this calmed Louis’ nerves.

“You grab the table and I’ll get us some drinks. What do you want?” Louis is slightly taken aback by his own assertiveness. Evidently his pep talk worked.

“Surprise me.” Harry grins wickedly before disappearing into the crowd.

Louis takes this as a challenge and approaches the table five minutes later with a tray laden with a variety of exotic (and worrisome) looking drinks. He sets them on the table and stares down at Harry, no mirth in his eyes. Confident Louis is taking no prisoners.

“Shots?”

-

An hour and a half later and all Louis’ fears of awkwardness are gone. Harry is charming and funny, and he looks at Louis as though everything he says is so wonderful and inspired. He even laughs so uproariously on one occasion that he sends his cocktail flying all over the table.

“Careful Harry, not on my nice white shirt.”

“Sorry Tom Tom.”

“Tom Tom?!” Louis has never heard the like. “I’ve never heard the like.”

Harry lets out a shriek of laughter. “Has anyone ever told you that you speak like an eighty year old woman?”

“Oi. I’m just very advanced for my age. Now finish your mojito young man, Niall will be here with the taxi any minute.”

“What about your car?”

“I’ll come get it tomorrow. Drink.”

“Yes sir.” He tips his glass back enthusiastically and swallows. Louis watches the pulses of his throat with undisguised longing, the alcohol in his bloodstream feeding his desire.

“What are you staring at?”

Louis snaps out of his reverie and realises that Harry can actually see his shameful ogling.

“Err, nothing, just thinking about…” he glances behind Harry’s head to the television on the wall “…seagulls.”

“Seagulls?”

“Exactly.” He checks his watch. “Time to go.”

Niall is leaning against the cab when they exit the pub, having a very animated discussion with the cab driver, who is finishing his cigarette and looking like he’s already regretting taking this call-out.

“Alright lads! Paul, these are my lads Harry and Louis. They’re not on a date.”

“Niall!” Harry and Louis whine in unison as the three climb into the back of the taxi. It’s a short drive from the pub to the club, but in Niall’s mind a minute spent not drinking is a minute wasted.

“Here lads, quick bevvy before we get there.” Louis shoots a nervous glance to the front of the cab. “Nah it’s fine, already cleared it wit Paul. Just don’t spill it or you’ll be cleaning it up, ain’t that right Paul.”

Paul turns the radio up in response.

“Classic Paul. Three, two, one- neck em!”

And before Louis has time to remember that he is a 25 year old man with a job and responsibilities, he’s pouring a litre of beer down his throat like an over-eager fresher.

“You alright Louis?” Harry’s hand is on Louis’ arm and his face is suddenly close. Louis realises just how close the pair are sitting.

“I’m fine, just a little tipsy.” He shoots Harry what he hopes is a charming smile.

“Jesus Louis what’s with the creepy grin?” Niall asks as he presses another beer into his and Harry’s hands.

Scowling Louis cracks open the drink and drains it quickly. Ah, alcohol. My only true friend.

“I didn’t think it was creepy.” Harry’s voice is low and quiet and he can feel his breath hot in his ear. But before he has time to react or reply the taxi has pulled up outside the club and Niall is pushing them out.

Niall lets out a low whistle at the queue, which snakes all along the street and around the corner.

“Lucky we’re on the guest list, eh fellas?” He charges confidently over to the bouncer at the door and they enter. Louis is a little taken aback by the excess of the place. The vast dancefloor feeds out onto several platforms, which are flanked by long bars. The club seems packed already, and Louis wonders how they’ll ever find Zayn. House music is blaring from huge speakers and beautiful people moving their bodies in time to the beat. Louis looks up at Harry who seems mesmerised by his surroundings. Niall throws his arms around both of their shoulders and guides them straight to the bar where he orders a round of apple flavoured vodka shots.

“Zayn says he can see us!” Niall yells over the music, holding up his phone. They look around, eventually spotting Zayn at one of the booths to the left of the bar. Louis can’t quite make out his face in the dim lighting, but he doesn’t look happy. He squints at the other faces at the table and doesn’t recognise a single one.

They finish knocking back their shots and walk over to Zayn. He excuses himself and gets up to greet them.

“Thank god you’re here, that lot are so dull.” He cocks his head to indicate the table behind him.

“Where’s Liam?” Louis asks, looking around.

“He had to take a call about an hour ago, haven’t seen him since.” He shrugs but Louis can see the disappointment in his face.

Niall grabs him around the shoulders and leans in close to shout in his ear.

“Hurry up and ditch the borin’ bastards so you can come get hammered with us.”

Zayn smiles and reaches for his wallet, extracting two notes and shoving them into Niall’s hand.

“Get the drinks in and I’ll be over in 5.”

-

The rest of the night is such blur of drinking and dancing and by the time Niall brings over a fifth round of drinks Harry is about ready to concede defeat and get a glass of water. He sees Louis looking over at him from across the table, concern lining his face.

“You alright Haz?”

Harry nods slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. Everything seems to be happening very slowly. He looks down at his hands.

“Hands are funny.” He says to nobody in particular, grinning down at his lap.

Zayn, who is sat on Harry’s right side, tips his head back with laughter and claps him on the back.

“You’re quality mate. You need to come out with us more often.”

Harry grins widely and gives Zayn a wobbly high five. He frowns when he looks around the table and realises that Louis is suddenly absent.

“Where’s…where’s Lou?” He slurs.

“I’m here Harry. Drink this.” Louis appears beside him and sets a tall glass of water on the table. Zayn scoots onto an empty chair to let him sit by Harry, who is trying to drink the water without spilling it. He’s unsuccessful.

“Whooops.”

“What are you like Harry, here, let me.” Louis grabs Harry’s arm to steady it and holds the bottom of the glass with his other hand. He presses the glass to Harry’s lips and slowly tips it, his eyes never leaving Harry’s mouth. He pulls the drink back and Harry’s dark pink lips are wet and plump and Louis imagines running his tongue over them, nibbling them.

He gulps and turns to put the glass back on the table. He is definitely a bit of a pervert when he drinks.

“I think you need to go home Harold.”

“Not before you dance with me.”

“Can you promise me you won’t throw up?”

“I can promise to try.” His eyes are hooded and he yawns widely, making Louis’ heart swell with affection. Damn Harry for being so horribly adorable.

“Another time Styles, come on, let’s get your coat.” He pulls Harry up and steadies him before leaning over to Zayn to tell him he’s taking Harry home. Zayn nods and hugs Louis goodbye. He straightens up and turns back to Harry-

Who’s nowhere to be seen.

“Shit.” He glances around, trying to catch a glimpse of a drunken boy with long legs and curly hair. He walks towards the bar, squinting at everyone he passes until- aha. He spots Harry leaning heavily on the bar next to a gorgeous brunette in a body hugging bandage dress.

Oh. Louis’ heart sinks.

Harry leans his head in to talk in her ear and she squeals and playfully slaps at him. Louis is torn, wavering between his desire to go over and separate them and his desire to get the hell out of there. His decision is made for him when he sees a burly man with a face like thunder quickly approaching them from behind. Louis arrives just as the man grabs Harry by his collar and spins him around.

“Gary no!” The brunette shrieks and claws ineffectively at her boyfriend.

Louis has just enough time to see the man’s fist draw backwards before he moves a step to his left and pushes Harry out of the way.

Then his head explodes with pain and he collapses onto the floor. From his position slumped against the bar he watches Zayn and Liam wrestle the guy away and into the arms of some even bigger bouncers.

“Louis oh my god, are you alright?” Harry is beside him, one hand behind his neck, supporting him. “Shit you’re bleeding.” He sees Zayn dusts his hands on his jeans and rush over. He and Harry help him up.

“I’m fine I’m just a bit dizzy that’s all.” His legs wobble and he dips down for a second, but Zayn catches him and Liam leads them through a door behind the bar and into a small office. He sits down heavily for a few minutes, Harry fussing at his side and Zayn looking furious.

“There’s a staff toilet there if you want to get cleaned up, Louis. The manager says there’s a first aid kit under the sink.” Liam says when he comes in a short while later. “And the bouncers have taken care of that guy so no need to worry.”

“It’s that guy who’ll have to worry if I ever see him again.” Zayn growls, and Louis wonders if he imagines the curious glimmer in Liam’s eyes. He walks slowly towards the bathroom with Harry close by his side.

“I’ll help.” He rushes ahead of Louis to open the door and help him inside, insisting that Louis sit down. He seems a damn sight more sober than he had done five minutes before.

“I’m so sorry Louis, I can’t believe you just got punched for me.” Harry’s voice is strained as he opens the first aid kid and takes out some cotton wool. Louis closes his eyes and tries to ignore the dull throbbing above his right eye. He hears the tap running.

“Oh god, you hate me don’t you.” Louis opens his eyes and finds Harry crouching next to him. He gently presses the damp cotton wool to Louis’ face, wiping away the blood that has dried there.

“Of course I don’t hate you Harry, just a bit distracted by my broken face at the minute.”

Harry winces at the joke. “I didn’t even see him coming. If you hadn’t…well I would have been in real trouble.”

“S’alright.”

Harry cleans the cut tenderly, sticking his tongue out as he works. Louis tries to ignore just how damn adorable that is.

“It’s only a little cut.” Harry sounds relieved. “But it’s gunna bruise up pretty bad, you’ll need to ice it when you get home.”

“Jeez, all this trouble because you’re a massive flirt.” Louis tries to sound light-hearted, but there’s an edge to his voice. Harry scoffs.

“I was not flirting. She wasn’t exactly my type.”

“What, drop dead gorgeous brunette girls aren’t your type? Fussy bastard.”

“Drop dead brunette’s sure.” He shoots a pointed stare at Louis. “Girls…not so much.”

Louis tries to swallow his grin, and only half succeeds. It almost feels worth getting punched in the face to hear those words from Harry.

“Oh.” He manages and Harry looks at him with a bemused smile. Harry turns to grab a plaster from the box on the side before facing Louis again. He reaches out to push Louis fringe out of the way of the cut, pausing when their eyes meet. Louis’ breath catches as he realises just how beautiful Harry Styles is, with his unbelievable jawline and plump lips. Even the smattering of tiny red bumps on his forehead and his slightly larger than average nostrils seem beyond amazing.

He realises he’s staring and clears his throat. Harry’s eyes focus again and he shrugs a little, pressing the plaster gently to Louis’ head. He stands, helping Louis to his feet before leaning down to quickly kiss him on the forehead. His legs feel weak. Probably just the knock on the head.

Yeah, sure.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Louis lets Harry take his hand and lead him out of the bathroom to the others.

“Louis mate, I’m so sorry but I have to stay, there’s some important guy coming that I have to meet.” Zayn says, shooting a sideways look at Liam, whose face is twisted with guilt.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m fine, just a little bump on the head.”

“I’ll take care of him.” Harry squeezes his hand.

Niall’s phone buzzes and he stands up.

“Cabs here.” He claps Zayn’s shoulder and shakes Liam’s hand goodbye before leading Louis and Harry slowly out of the club by the back entrance and into the waiting cab. Louis sits by the window with Harry close by his side. Louis presses his head against the wonderfully cool glass. A painful throbbing is starting up behind his eye but he grins secretly as Harry makes no effort to pull their hands apart as the cab moves away from the curb. He shuts his eyes and lets his mind wander.

They are five minutes away from his flat when he sits up straight and swears. He grabs his hand from Harry’s to pat his pockets. Harry stirs awake and looks across blearily.

Shit.

“My keys…my keys and my wallet are in the office at the club.”

“Let me call Zayn.” Niall says, and tells the driver to go straight to his and Harry’s flat. “You can kip on our sofa tonight.”

“Shit I’m so sorry.”

Niall tells him to shut up. He looks over at Harry, who is already dozing again. He assures himself that he’s only imagining the smile on the boy’s lips.

-

Harry insists on keeping his arm around Louis all the way up the stairs.

“Jesus Harry, he’s not an invalid.”

“You never know with head injuries.” Harry doesn’t let go all the way up to their front door. Niall laughs.

“You’re just feeling guilty cos it was your fault.”

Harry scowls in response, shutting the door behind the three of them.

“I’ll go and get the spare bedding.” Harry turns to leave, but Louis reaches out to stop him.

“Seriously, let me. You can put the kettle on.”

He ignores Harry’s feeble protests and walks purposefully out into the corridor. He opens the airing cupboard at the end of the hall and grabs a couple of pillows and a duvet. He shuts the door with his hip and is about to walk back to the kitchen when he spots Harry’s door ajar at the other end of the hall. He steps gingerly towards it, the alcohol in his system allowing him the confidence to give the door a tiny push.

Harry’s room is smaller than Niall’s, barely bigger than his double bed. The walls are covered with posters and photographs, and spread across the white duvet cover is a gorgeous fur throw. A string of fairy lights is pinned above the headboard and bathe the room in a beautiful orange glow. There’s a stack of books on the bedside table and one open on the bed. Louis leans forward slightly to get a better look- but a crash in the kitchen brings him back to earth. He pulls the door shut slightly and returns to the others.

“Niall, that is not how you make French toast.” Harry is looking exasperatedly down at Niall- well Niall’s arse. The rest of him seems to be stuffed into the cupboard under the toaster, which is smoking.

“Aha! Got it.” Niall emerges triumphantly from the cupboard, spatula in hand. Harry flaps his hands exasperatedly.

“You’re going to burn the kitchen down, just- move, let me.” He pops the toast up and steers Niall to a seat at the table. Louis clears his throat. Harry looks up and smiles.

“We were just making some food, Niall was feeling hungry.”

“Nothing new there.”

“Hey, I’m a growing boy.” Niall protests from the table, chewing on a crust of bread. Harry busies himself breaking eggs into a bowl and getting a big pan out of the cupboard. Louis dumps the bedding in the lounge before heading to the table to take a seat by Niall.

“You cook?” He asks Harry.

“A little. I’m nothing special.”

“Behave Harry.” He turns to Louis. “He’s brilliant. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted his carbonara.”

“Here.” Harry places a bag of frozen peas on the table in front of Louis. “No arguments.”

Louis ices his head whilst Harry cooks and Niall talks. He’s glad of the distraction, and Niall’s incessant chattering means he’s off the hook. He watches Harry in the kitchen, enjoying the movement of his muscles under his tight t-shirt as he stirs and carries things across the room. When he sets the food down in front of them Louis has to admit it looks delicious, and lets out a groan of approval when he takes a bite.

“Not bad, Styles, not bad at all.”

“Told ya.” Niall comments through a mouthful of food.

They eat in comfortable silence, with Niall finishing first, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and leaving the room to get Louis some clothes to sleep in. Louis has barely finished before Harry stands and clears his plate, coming back a few moments later with a glass of water and a couple of painkillers.

“Take these or your head will be murder in the morning.”

“Thanks man, but you really don’t have to fuss. This isn’t your fault.”

“That’s not why Lou-”  He pauses. The nickname sounds so intimate. “Just can’t help feeling a little responsible.”

Louis stands up and pulls Harry into a quick hug.

“You’re a good guy.”

Niall clears his throat in the doorway. They both look round to see him standing awkwardly with a t-shirt and trackies in his hands. Harry turns quickly and busies himself washing up whilst Louis grabs the clothes from Niall and heads for the bathroom. He pauses in the hall and hears Niall’s voice.

“Sorry if I was interrupting something there man. I didn’t know if you and Louis are-”

“Of course not Niall. Jesus, he’s practically my boss. We’re just friends.”

Of course not. He feels a little twinge in his gut. Of course not.

Louis shakes his head heads into the bathroom without any more hesitation. He winces as he checks his face out in the small bathroom mirror. His head has swollen slightly above his eyebrow and is rapidly turning a pinkish-purple. He peels back the plaster slightly to check the damage. The blood has mostly dried so he discards the band-aid in the bin and cleans it best he can. He can only imagine the kinds of questions his students will ask him on Monday and he’ll need a better excuse than “I got punched in a club because the boy I want to sleep with was flirting with a gorgeous girl and her boyfriend Gary wasn’t best pleased.”

He changes quickly and heads back out. Niall is nowhere to be seen but he spots Harry in the lounge, just finishing making the bed up.

“Harry, really, you’ve done enough. If this is about your job-”

“What? No not at all. Just wanted to help, I said.”

There’s something about watching Harry fuss and worry that makes Louis’ heart beat a little faster. Stop it, Louis tells himself, you’re ‘practically his boss’, remember.

“Thanks.” They stand and stare at each other awkwardly before Harry crosses the room towards him. He looks like he’s about to lean in for a hug but stops, squeezes his shoulder.

“Night you.” He whispers, and leaves the room without another word.

Louis shuts off the light and climbs into the sofa-bed, shuffling around until he gets comfy. What a night. His head is still a little fuzzy and he shuts his eyes and watches colours dance. He falls asleep and dreams of dark rooms and pink lips.

-

Harry wakes uncharacteristically early the next morning. Despite the copious amount of alcohol consumed the night before he feels surprisingly fresh. He cancels his 10 o’clock alarm and heaves himself out of bed and puts on trackies, a hoodie and his new running shoes. He pads out into the kitchen. He can see Louis’ is still sleeping on the fold-out so he opens the door as quietly as he can before slipping out.

The sun is shining and the winter air is brisk and refreshing. He jogs a few laps around the estate to warm up, enjoying the gentle heat of the sun on his face and the emptiness of the neighbourhood around him. He clears his mind and runs.

He is red faced and breathing heavily when he returns to the flat 45 minutes later, unlocking the door quietly in case Louis is still sleeping. He opens the door and almost drops his iPod.

“Mum?!”

His mother is sitting at the table having a cup of tea with a deliciously drowsy looking Louis Tomlinson, whose head has turned a sort of green-purple colour overnight.

“Hello darling!”

“Mum, what are you- what are you doing here?”

“Can’t a mother pop in to see her baby boy once in a while?”

He pulls off his shoes at the door and goes over to kiss her.

“Of course, it’s just- just a bit of a shock really. I was just out for a run.”

“Well I can see that.” His mother wrinkles her nose a little. “Louis here was just keeping me company. He was telling me all of last night’s excitement.”

“He was? What exactly-” Harry looks a little warily over at Louis, who sips his tea with an innocent expression on his face.

“You do have to watch out for ice on the pavement this time of year, can be pretty nasty.”

“Ice. Yeah, of course. Nasty.”

“Why don’t you shower whilst I get some breakfast on?”

Harry can only nod whilst his mother stands and heads for the fridge.

“Thanks.” He mouths at Louis, who only grins and asks Anne about her journey. Harry can still hear them nattering when he strips off and climbs into the shower. He really shouldn’t be quite so cheerful that Louis is a hit with his mother. He grins and reaches for the shampoo.

When he’s clean and dry he returns to his room, quickly pulls on a pair of shorts and a baggy jumper and heads out to the kitchen. His mum has made them a feast and Louis and Niall are already tucking in.

“Why didn’t you tell me yer mam was coming, Haz!” Niall asks through a mouthful of toast and scrambled eggs.

“I’m as surprised as you are.” Harry goes over to his mum and kisses her on the side of her head again. She beams. “Good to see you Mum.” He whispers into her hair.

When they’ve finished and tidied up, Anne tells Harry to put some real clothes on. “We’re going out.”

“Out where?”

“Out for a little walk. Now get a move on. Go on.” She flaps at him until he leaves the room. He pulls his jeans on and grabs his boots from under his bed. His mum frowns at him when he re-emerges.

“Where’s your coat? You’ll catch your death in that holey old thing.” She gestures his jumper.

“Muuuum. Stop fussing. Come on, let’s just go.”

They walk in comfortable silence towards the park. His mum takes his arm and he doesn’t complain. He’s pleased she’s here, and even more pleased that she hasn’t interrogated or crucified him yet. They take a seat by the half frozen duck pond. Harry regrets not bringing a coat, but there’s no way he’s going to tell his mum that.

“So.”

“So.”

“You quit school.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t want to discuss it with me first?”

“I know I should have, it just all happened so fast. I wasn’t happy.”

“So you said it’s just…it’s just I’m not sure if you’re keeping things from me darling. You weren’t in any trouble were you?”

“No. Nothing like that, mum.” He lies. “Really it just wasn’t for me.” He shoots her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Oh Harry.” She pulls him into a hug. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you? You would tell me if you needed me.”

“Muuum. I’m not a baby anymore. I’m fine, promise. And anyway, it’s all worked out. I’ve got a job, a flat.”

“Great friends too, by the looks of things. Louis seems a lovely boy.”

“He is. He’s the reason I have the job in the first place, actually. He’s a good friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes, mum. Honestly, you’re so embarrassing.” He freezes. “You didn’t ask him anything like that did you?”

“Relax baby, of course not. I’m just checking. He spoke very highly of you, that’s all.”

“Did he?” The eagerness in Harry’s voice makes his mum laugh.

“You’re about as subtle as a steam train, Harry. ” He groans. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he knows.”

“Muuum.” Harry whines, burying his head on his mum’s shoulder.

She laughs and hugs him.

“Come on, let’s go get a cup of tea before my only son freezes to death.”

-

Louis is gone by the time Harry and his mum return to the flat mid-afternoon.

“He said he had some marking to do.” Niall explains. “Are you staying for dinner? Harry’s cooking.”

“I’d love to, but I have to get back. I said I’d pop in on Gemma on the way home, see her new flat.” She checks her watch, “I should really be going now.”

She hugs Harry and Niall goodbye, telling them both to look after each other, and presses a handful of cash into Harry’s hands.

“For emergencies.” She tell him sternly as he opens his mouth to protest. She kisses his cheek once more before turning and leaving.

Harry inspects the money in his hand.

“Guess drinks are on your mum, Haz.” Niall jokes, and Harry chuckles as he heads for his bedroom, making sure the door is properly closed before he kneels down and pulls a shoebox from under his bed. From the box he pulls a thick unsealed envelope. He opens the flap and thumbs the contents, his stomach filling with unease. Eight grand in fifty pound notes. He adds his mum’s money and shoves it back under the bed hastily.

“Hey Harry-” he hears Niall yelling from the other room, “fancy a game of Fifa?”

“Be right out!”

He stands up, pulls his jeans off and grabs for some trackies, forcing himself to think of anything but the shoebox. He mostly succeeds. 

Chapter Text

CH5: The One Where Everyone Panics And First Kisses Shouldn’t Be This Perfect

Louis has barely made it through half of his papers when he hears his mobile ringing in the other room. He lets it ring out twice. Ten seconds later and his home phone begins ringing. ZAYN MALIK CALLING.

“Hey Zayn, what’s up?”

“Why didn’t you pick up!” His voice is frantic. “I’m having a crisis.”

“Why, what’s the situation?”

“What do you think?”

“Liam. What’s he done now.”

“He’s” Zayn pauses dramatically and takes a deep breath, “invited me to dinner.”

“What a bastard.”

“Louis this isn’t funny. It’s tonight.”

“Remind me why this is a bad thing?”

“Because…well because..”

“Yes?”

“Because I’m a train wreck. Just come over.”

“I have marking…”

“Screw your marking, I’m your best mate and I need you.”

“Good point well made. I’ll be there in 20.”

Zayn hangs up without another word.

The things I do for that boy, Louis thinks as he stands up.

-

“Are you sure I look okay?” Zayn is checking himself in the mirror again, a look of pure panic in his eyes. He’s finally settled on a pair of black jeans and a black shirt. (“Bit bright, don’t you think?” Louis had joked- then regretted it when Zayn had pitched a shoe at him.)

“You look great, man, honestly. I’d invite you on a date myself if I didn’t already know what a dick you are.”

“Bloody charming Lou. And I told you, it’s not a date. We’re discussing my EP. It’s practically work.”

“Then why are you sweating?”

Zayn whips round to face him, his hand flying up to his head. “Shit, am I?”

“I’m teasing Zayn, chill. You’ll be fine. You’re the coolest guy I know.”

“I am, aren’t I.”

“And always very modest.”

“Modesty is overrated.” But Zayn is smiling now, looking decidedly more calm and collected. “Last dilemma. Do I take a bottle of red or white?”

-

Louis drops him off around the corner from Liam’s, giving him a little pep talk before letting him out of the car.

“Say hello to Liam for me!” He shouts to Zayn before driving away.

Calm and collected. Calm and collected. Shit fuck shit. Calm and collected.

He checks Liam’s text for the hundredth time. Number 27, Church Grove. He’s 5 minutes early so takes a quick walk around the block before turning onto Liam’s street.

Calm and collected. You can do this. You can do this. He sees Number 27. It’s just dinner. Be cool. Be cool. He turns up the drive and walks towards the door. Calm and collected. Breathe. Breathe. He rings the doorbell and waits.

Five seconds pass. Ten. Zayn contemplates ringing again, reaches for the doorbell uncertainly. The door flies open.

“HELLOOOO!”

Zayn jumps in surprise. A kid no older than six is standing grinning up at him.

“Uh- uh…I was looking for Liam Payne. I think I might have the-”

“Zayn! You made it.” Liam appears behind the beaming child, placing a hand lovingly on his head. “Come in, come in.” Zayn steps forward, surprised that his legs are still managing to hold him up. The little boy steps aside to let him in and then shuts the door beside them.

“BYEEEE!” He shouts and runs down the corridor and through the open door at the end.

“I’m so sorry, he’s bouncing off the walls tonight. He’s been so excited to meet you.”

“He’s- he’s-”

“He’s my son, yeah. Guessing you’re a little shocked.” Liam’s voice is warm.

“I just had no idea.”

“I don’t talk about him much. Here, let me take your coat.”

Zayn nods and slips his coat off.

“I brought you- I mean I don’t know if you like red wine or-”

“I do, thankyou. You really didn’t have to.” He takes the wine from Zayn’s hand and grabs him by the shoulder, steering him forward into the kitchen. The little boy is sitting at the table, furiously colouring.

“Darlin’, don’t you think you should introduce yourself to Zayn.”

“Flip I forgot. Hi Zayn I’m Jack nice to meet you thanks for coming.” He says without a pause. Zayn chuckles, his nerves evaporating.

“Hi Jack. Lovely to meet you. What are you drawing?”

“Just me and Dad on the moon. Do you like colouring?”

“I love colouring. I’m not as good as you though.” He takes a seat next to Jack at the table and admires his drawing. “Wow, that’s amazing. I especially like the, uh, pink moon. Very creative.”

Jack grins widely and Zayn notices the gaps where a few milk teeth are missing.

“Here.” Jack pulls a piece of paper out from under his drawing and sets it in front of Zayn. “You can even use all my crayons because I’m best at sharing.”

“Jacky, I’m not sure that Zayn wants to be-”

“Nonsense. Like I said I love colouring.” Zayn says, catching Liam’s eye as he grabs a pencil. “What should we draw Jack?”

“Um…let’s draw Daddy fighting crocodiles.”

“Because I fight a lot of crocodiles, eh, Jack?”

“Quite a lot.” Jack replies indignantly and sets to work on the outline of Liam’s head, which is very reminiscent of a peanut. Zayn grins and sets to work on his own sketch whilst Liam cooks. Jack natters happily as he draws, telling Zayn about his school trip to the science museum.

“And I’m definitely going to be a scientist now. That’s if I can’t be a singer like you Zayn. You’re an amazing singer, Daddy says- What dad you do say that! You do you said he’s really good.” Jack raises his voice indignantly and Liam covers his face.

“Jeez, kid, stop giving away all my secrets!”

Jack raises his eyebrows and shrugs at Zayn, who is trying to stifle his grin.

“I love your earring Zayn. Daddy says I’m not allowed earrings because I’m too young but I think he’s just being boring. Don’t you Zayn, don’ you think my daddy’s boring.”

“I think your daddy’s brilliant.”

Jack sticks out his tongue theatrically. “Yuk.” He reaches for a purple crayon, pausing when he sees Zayn’s drawing.

“Bloody heck!”

“Jack! Language.”

“Sorrrrry. But look at Zayn’s picture dad, look, look!”

Zayn blushes as Liam turns away from the stove where he had been putting carrots on to steam. He lets out a low whistle when he sees Zayn’s sketch. He’s drawn Liam in a zookeepers outfit, fists raised to box an angry looking crocodile, which is rearing up at him.

“That’s amazing Zayn, I had no idea you could draw.”

“It’s nothing, really it’s just a silly sketch.”

“Can I have it, please can I Zayn, please can I?” Jack tugs on his arm and begs.

“Of course you can. Hey, why don’t you colour it in for me?”

“You sure about that?” Liam asks Zayn in an undertone. Zayn laughs.

“It could do with a little brightening up.”

Jack grabs a neon pink pen and sets to work on the crocodile.

-

The meal is delicious, and Zayn keeps up his compliments throughout. They try to discuss work intermittently, but give in to Jack’s deliberate yawns whenever it’s brought up. When the meal is finished Liam excuses Jack to go and watch cartoons and the youngster runs away whooping and cheering.

“Sorry about him, he can be a little hyperactive around new people.”

“Are you kidding? He’s amazing. Really.”

“I’m probably a little too overprotective. I just worry about him, what with me and his mum not being together.” He looks up from his plate. “Sorry, god, this is probably exactly what you don’t want to be hearing.”

“You can talk to me Liam, I mean, we’re friends aren’t we?”

“I hope so.”

“You can talk to me about whatever.” Zayn reaches over and places his hand over Liam’s, squeezing gently before pulling away. “Do you mind me asking what happened with him and his mum? Like, what’s your story?”

“Well we were together 8 years before she got pregnant with Jack. We got together when we were both young, childhood sweethearts and all that. Although I , uh, wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend. I mean I loved her, sure, but I left school at 13, couldn’t get a job, ended up in a young offenders unit for nicking a car when I was 16, so not the ideal boyfriend. She spent two years of her life waiting for me to get out. God knows why, but she did.” He clears his throat and looks down. “And then when I got out…I tried, really I tried to get my life together, tried to get a job but with my criminal record- no chance. I got involved with some pretty shady people, even starting using drugs. Way I was heading I was either gunna end up dead or back inside. But then Holly got pregnant, and everything changed. I can remember the moment she told me like it was yesterday. That was the day I had to make a decision. Nine months and I’d have a baby. I’d be someone’s dad. And I realised that I could either carry on the way I was going and fuck someone else’s life up, or I could stop expecting things to happen and go out and do something for myself. So I went out and got myself a job in the mailroom at Wrekked. Sorted my life out. Too late for me and Holly mind, we split up just before he was born, can’t blame her really. She’d put up with more than enough of my shit. But I kept at it, worked my arse off and the rest I suppose is history.”

He takes a sip of his wine. “Wow, sorry that was a long story. You’re probably bored stiff.”

“Are you kidding? That’s amazing. I had no idea.”

“It’s not exactly something I brag about around the office, you know. But I mean, I’d understand if you didn’t want to work with me after hearing that.”

“I think I want to work with you even more. If that’s possible.”

Liam laughs, eyes creasing. “Thanks Zayn. Really, it means a lot. And thanks for being so good with Jack, he’s not gunna shut up about you for weeks now.”

“He’s a great kid, just like his dad.”

“I’m a great kid?”

“You know what I mean. You’re just great.”

“Are you flirting with me Malik?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“No, you’re just perfect.” Liam stands and clears the plates from the table, calling out for Jack, who comes scampering in a moment later.

“Whaaaaat.”

“Time for bed Jackie- no complaints. Say goodnight to Zayn.”

“Night Zayn, thanks for my picture.”

“No problem kid. Just promise to draw me something another time.”

“Soon.”

“Soon.” Zayn winks and ruffles his hair. Liam comes up behind Jack and picks him up and the boy squeals. “Come on trouble, bedtime.” He carries him over his shoulder upstairs and Zayn can hear him giggling all the way. Zayn pats his pockets for his phone, realising that he’s left it in his coat pocket out in the hall. He slips out into the hall and grabs his coat from the hook, picking the phone lightly out of the inside pocket. He pauses on his way back into the kitchen when he hears Liam’s voice from upstairs.

“Come on darlin’, into bed. There’s a good boy.” Jack says something in response, too quiet for Zayn to hear. Liam laughs.

“Of course he did, he said he thinks you’re very cool.” A murmur from Jack and then Liam’s voice again.

“I like him too. A lot. Now it’s definitely well past your bedtime so give daddy a kiss.” Zayn hears movement and hurries back into the kitchen, tucking his phone into his pocket as he goes. His heart is beating a little faster in his chest and he goes to the sink and splashes his face with water. He looks around for a tea-towel.

“Here.” Liam’s voice is suddenly close behind him. He spins. Liam is standing less than 2 feet away and Zayn’s breath catches in his throat. Liam is even more gorgeous this close. He presses the towel into Zayn’s hands, their eyes fixed firmly on one another.

“Thanks.” Zayn breaths, and dries his face. Liam takes the towel from him when he’s finished and reaches behind Zayn to throw it by the sink. Zayn moves backwards slightly and he feels the work surface against his back. He swallows. Liam moves towards him by a few inches, his arms reaching forwards to rest on the surface, one on either side of Zayn. He places his feet either side of Zayn’s too, moving his hips forward so their bodies are almost touching. Zayn’s whole body feels like it’s tingling and a delicious shock runs up his spine. Liam licks his lips and moves his face so it’s a few inches away, though it feels like miles to Zayn.

“Is this okay?” Liam’s voice is barely a whisper, and Zayn can feel his warm breath. Zayn’s body pulses with heat and he is so painfully aware of Liam’s proximity. He can only nod. Liam’s mouth turns up slightly in a smile, but he comes no closer. Zayn’s hands are trembling at his side and he can feel himself stiffening inside his black jeans. Liam’s hand comes up to Zayn’s face, brushes his fringe back from his forehead, and the contact is everything. A quiet moan escapes Zayn’s lips and he has no time to be embarrassed, no time to care, no time for anything but the sudden softness of Liam’s lips on his own. Zayn exhales into the kiss, moving his lips in delicious synchronicity to Liam’s. His arms go around Liam’s waist and pull his hips closer until their bodies are pressed against one another. Liam’s tongue flicks out gently, cautiously and Zayn opens his mouth, welcoming him. One of Liam’s hands comes up to Zayn’s neck, holding him gently but firmly in place as he licks into the other man’s mouth. Zayn feels ready to burst, his cock already hard and twitching. His hand slips down to Liam’s beautiful arse, groaning at its firmness. He pulls him in even closer, their crotches touching. Liam’s hand tightens at his neck when he feels Zayn’s hardness against his leg.

“DAAADDY.”  They spring apart at Jack’s voice, shouting from the landing.

“Shit.” Liam says, his face flushed and voice wavering. “Shit. Sorry. Give me 5 minutes.” He plants a tender kiss on Zayn’s now-swollen lips and disappears out of the room.

Zayn’s heart is still hammering in his chest when Liam comes down a few minutes later.

“Jack’s sick.”

“Shit, is he okay?”

“No, he’s fine, just a bug probably. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be, I just hope he’s okay. I’ll leave you to it.” Liam smiles a little sadly as he walks him out, stopping him at the door to push him against the wall and kiss him deeply and passionately. “Thanks for coming.” He breaths into Zayn’s neck, nipping at it slightly. Zayn exhales, his heart threatening to tear through his ribcage and make a horrible mess of Liam’s beautiful white shirt. He opens the door and steps out into the cold air.

“I’ll call you.” Liam promises, before shutting the door.

Zayn pulls his coat on, shoots one longing look at the closed door, before setting off. He feels invincible as he walks, not even bothering to call Louis for a lift. He wants to savour this moment, memorise every second of the kiss, the glorious softness of Liam’s lips, the taste of his tongue, the thrill of his hand on his neck.

He doesn’t stop grinning until he’s home.

-

The next day it’s Louis who calls with an emergency.

“What is it Lou? Seriously are you okay?”

“Yes- no. God I don’t know. Just come over, please.”

So when Zayn arrives half an hour later he’s not quite sure what to expect. Louis answers the door immediately, opening it a crack and peering out.

“Louis, let me in. What’s going on?”

“Strange things are happening, Zayn. I’ve done…well best you just see for yourself.”

Zayn’s face twists with confusion as he pushes past Louis and into his flat.

“Oh.” He stops in the kitchen and turns back to Louis, who is putting the chain on the door. There is a small fluffy thing curled up on a chair in the kitchen. “You got a kitten. This is your emergency?”

“Not just one.”

Zayn looks around and spots another kitten curled up on the sofa.

“Two kittens? Bloody hell Lou.”

Louis shakes his head again, mouth set in a hard line. “Not two.”

“Three kittens?” Zayn almost shouts, glancing frantically around the room for another furry bundle. “Fuckin’ hell Lou, three’s a bit excessive.”

“Four.” Louis squeaks and Zayn’s mouth drops open.

“Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“I am…I don’t know what happened.”

“I do! You’ve had a midlife crisis! Four cats! Bloody hell that’s four cats too many.”

“I panicked. They just looked at me…and…they need me Zayn! They love me.”

“They love you.” Zayn repeats, face blank.

“And I love them.”

“You’ve lost the plot.”

“Almost definitely.”

“And this has nothing to do with a certain Curly youngster telling Niall that there was nothing going on?”

“No.” He answers, far too quickly. Zayn seems to be feeling generous though as he lets it lie. He wanders into the living room and sits down by one of the kittens, stroking it with his thumb and looking up at Louis with a bemused expression.

“So have you named them yet?”

“Sort of. The white one’s Fox, black one is Princess, the lazy one is Spencer. But I’m stuck on the one by you. I’m just not getting a clear vibe from him.”

Zayn nods seriously and picks up the kitten gingerly, looking at it square in the eye. “Can I name him?”

“Sure.”

Zayn stares at him for another few seconds. “Ian. He’s definitely an Ian.”

“Ian? You’re naming my baby Ian?”

“Your baby?” If Zayn’s eyebrows go up any further they’ll disappear into his hairline.

“Oh shut up and put Ian to bed.” Zayn grins and sets the kitten down gently on the cushion by the TV.

“So, what’s new with you? How was your dinner with Liam?” Louis asks, filling the kettle at the sink.

“We kissed.”

It’s Louis’ turn to look stunned. “Bloody hell mate! You should have said!”

“Well I was a bit busy with the petting zoo you’ve got happening here.”

“Not funny. So- tell me everything.”

-

Zayn promises to watch the kittens on Monday whilst Louis works. He leaves him with a list of instructions, kisses each cat and leaves, reassuring Zayn that yes, he does know how ridiculous his life is.

“Just checking!” Zayn calls out after him.

He’s scheduled to oversee a rehearsal for the showcase, so his morning is spent shouting encouragement and instructions at nervous Juniors.

“Come on Marnie, more spirit!” He jumps up on stage and plonks himself down at the piano.

“What song do you sing in the shower?” She mumbles something.

“Elton John? Well I can work with that.” He hits a few keys experimentally and then counts down. He’d never sing in front of anyone his own age, but something about his Juniors makes it possible.

“Now sing with me- It’s a little bit funny” –silence- “this feeling inside. I’m not one of those who can” –a few tentative voices- “easily hide. I don’t have much money but boy if I did, I’d buy a big house where we both could live.” Louis smiles as he hears more voices joining, and by the final verse they are belting it out, his hands jumping wildly across the piano keys.

“HOW WONDERFUL LIFE IS NOW YOU’RE IN THE WORLD- Amazing everyone! Amazing. Now that’s the energy I want from you.”

He stands up and walks to the front of the stage. He’s about to jump down when he spots a lone figure sitting at the back of the theatre. Harry. Louis’ face flushes and he turns back to his juniors.

“Okay everyone, get into pairs and err- practice lines.” He jumps off the stage and heads towards the curly haired spectator.

“I cannot believe you just witnessed that. I’m absolutely mortified.” He buries his head in his hands theatrically.

“Are you joking! It was amazing.” Harry stands up and pulls Louis’ hands away from his face. “Like, really good.”

“Oh shut up.”

“No I’m serious, Lou. You can sing.”

“Ugh, you’re too polite for your own good.” He tries to laugh it off but Harry’s eyes are fixed steadily on his. He leans forward and quietly sings in Louis’ ear; “so excuse me forgetting, but these things I do…”

“You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue.” Louis sings back softly in spite of himself. He can feel Harry’s breath tickling his neck.

“Oi, Tommo!” They spring apart at a shout from the stage. “I need help with Act 2.”

He shrugs at Harry. “Guess we’ll have to take a raincheck on this duet.”

Harry’s hand reaches for Louis neck and pulls him closer “Alright, but I hope you know I’m very, very impatient.” He practically growls, before turning and walking quickly out of the theatre. Louis lingers for a few seconds, his heart beating fast and his legs feeling like jelly.

“TOMMO!”

“Yes, yes, coming.”

He swallows and forces himself to think about something, anything, except Harry’s long fingers around his throat.

-

He doesn’t see Harry again until last period, when he swings by the theatre to assist with the clean-up.

“Thanks mate, these lot don’t half get carried away with their props.”

“I can see why,” Harry replies, trying on a feathered pirate’s hat, “I’ve always loved playing dress up.”

“Well would you mind dressing up as someone who’s going to help me carry this lot?” Louis looks pointedly at Harry as he struggles with two boxes.

“Aye aye Captain.” Harry grins as he relieves Louis of the heavier box. “Lead the way.”

Louis walks ahead of Harry to the cupboard at the far end of the theatre, opening it with one hand and making sure the door is propped open to allow Harry to follow him in. He reaches up to stack the box on the shelf and hears Harry enter behind him.

“Just make sure you don’t let the door shut because-” The door slams, “because it doesn’t open from this side.” He finishes weakly.

Harry’s eyes widen. “Shit, sorry.”

Louis is frozen in place. His breathing picks up pace and he wills the walls to stop closing in.

“Louis…” Harry asks uncertainly.

“Don’t like…don’t like small spaces.” He fumbles for the wall and slides to the floor. Harry is at his side in moments.

“It’s okay Lou, it’s okay. I’ll get us out, I’ll text Niall now. Just breathe Lou, it’ll all be okay.”

Louis nods, his breathing quick and panicky.

Harry texts Niall twice and leaves a voicemail. He sits down next to Louis who is rocking nervously.

“Niall will be on his way soon, alright. Now Louis-” he takes Louis’ hand- “I need you to look at me now Louis okay.” Louis looks up at him. “There we go. That’s good. Now I want you to look straight into my eyes. Nowhere else. Okay?” Louis nods once. “Good. Now you’re going to listen to my breathing and try and match it.” He breathes slowly, deliberately, his green eyes locked onto Louis’. “You’re doing so well, Louis, in and out, just like that. You’re okay, you’re going to be okay. You’re in control of this situation, you’re doing great.”

Louis’ feels himself calming down and his heart is no longer hammering quite so loudly in his chest. He feels the room stretch out again, the walls stop bearing in and he can finally breathe again.

“How do you feel?” Harry’s voice aches with concern.

“A bit better.” Harry squeezes Louis’ hand tighter and reaches out to cup his face. “I’m right here.”

So you are. Louis brings his own hand up to cover Harry’s, which is still on his face. Harry swallows and licks his lips. He uses his hand to tip Louis’ head back slightly and moves fractionally closer. “Harry.” Louis breathes, their mouths inches from each other.

“Please…” Harry’s voice is strained, ragged. Louis nods almost imperceptibly and Harry moves closer still.

“YOU’RE SAVED- woaah sorry guys.”

Light streams in through the open door and Harry springs back.

“No it’s not- we weren’t. Louis just gets claustrophobic and I was- I was just helping him.”

“Right.” Niall looks wholly unconvinced. Harry helps Louis up, not daring to look at him. “Well lucky I’m here to save the day. You alright Louis?”

Louis nods, snatching his hand back from Harry. His hands are still slightly trembling so he sticks them in his pocket. “Thanks Niall. I should- yeah.” He strides out of the room and out of the theatre without a single look back.

He waits until he gets to his office to react, shutting his door and collapsing against it. He buries his head in his hands. Curse you, Niall Horan, curse you to hell.

-

“You can’t ignore me forever Harry.”

No, but I can try. He’d sat in miserable silence on the bus back from work and marched grumpily ahead of Niall as they walked back to their flat. He’d ignored him in the lift when he asked what he wanted for dinner, and then later when he’d offered Harry the last piece of pizza.

“I’m sorry. Jesus, how was I meant to know you were getting all frisky in the closet!”

“We were NOT getting frisky!”

“Aha- silence broken. Now stop being such an arse and talk to me. What happened in there?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened.”

“But it was about to?”

“Yeah…maybe. I don’t know.”

“But you wanted to?”

“I guess…I dunno it’s complicated. We work together. So it probably for the best.” He concedes miserably.

“Chin up mate, coulda been worse.”

“Yeah, I could have been stuck in there with you.”

“Oi!” Niall swats his round the head. “Your words hurt me Styles.”

Harry bares his teeth and smiles comically, his bad mood melting away.

-

Harry and Louis barely see each other for the next couple of weeks, which may have something to do with Louis shuffling Harry’s rota around so he’s working almost exclusively across campus. He convinces himself that this is perfectly rational behaviour, since Harry needs to learn how all of the different departments work. It has absolutely nothing to do with the dimples in Harry’s cheeks when he laughs. Absolutely nothing at all. Anyway, Louis has enough on his plate with helping his students prepare for auditions for theatre placements. He can’t deal with any distractions right now, Harry shaped or otherwise. When they do pass, in the staff room or cafeteria, Louis smiles brightly and pretends to be on the phone.

-

He’s in a frenzy of marking when Niall knocks on the door. It’s Thursday and he has another essay due back the next day. He groans inwardly at his decision to set a practice exam.

“Come in.” He shouts, without looking up.

“Hey stranger, just came to check you hadn’t been buried alive under this lot. You’ve been MIA since the whole, uh, closet incident.”

“I’ve just had so much to do with marking and teaching.”

“Harry thinks you’re avoiding him.”

“What- did he say that?”

Niall nods and comes around to Louis’ side of the desk and leans against it.

“Did he uh…has he said anything else?”

“Some things. I dunno. Why don’t you just talk to him, I know he’s text you a couple of times.”

“Has he? Well you know me and my phone- totally useless.”

“Louis, come on. It’s me you’re talking to.”

“Alright fine, maybe I have been avoiding everyone a tiny bit. Things just got a bit too confusing.”

“I get it, I really do. But it’s Harry’s birthday this Saturday and I know he’d be gutted if you weren’t there.”

Louis looks up properly from his marking.

“Shit I had no idea, he never said.”

“Well he says he wants to ignore it this year.”

“It’s his 21st! He can’t ignore it.” Louis says in shock. He briefly remembers the early hours of his own 21^st birthday, getting drunk on cheap wine with Zayn, wrapping himself in Christmas paper and running through the streets of Manchester, wishing the world a merry Christmas Eve.

“Precisely my point. Which is why I need to get creative. And I was thinking to myself; who is the most intelligent, handsome and wonderful-”

“Fine.” Louis interrupts. “I’ll help you.”

“Well I was going to say Zayn, but sure, you’ll probably do.”

Louis pushes him off the desk.

-

And this is how Louis ends up in Niall and Harry’s flat on Saturday afternoon, ready to pass out from blowing up balloons.

“Looking good, Tommo.” Niall says, dumping his shopping bags on the sofa. “Few more and we’ll be set I reckon.”

Louis groans at him from his position on the floor. Niall grins and starts to unload the bags, lining up bottle after bottle of booze on a little table in the corner. Louis heaves himself up and grabs a balloon, stretching it out a few times to make it easier to blow up.

“So when’s Harry due back?”

“I spoke to his mum this morning, and she says she’s dropping him back about 8:30. Says he’s had a face on him like a smacked arse all day.”

“And you’re still sure this party’s a good idea?”

“Course it is. If Harry won’t cheer up on his own then we’ll do it for him. That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?”

Niall doesn’t say it meanly, but something about the words hits Louis uncomfortably. He thinks of his behaviour for the last week, ignoring Harry’ texts, pretending not to see him in the cafeteria.

His heart sinks. He’d been so preoccupied thinking of his own heart and his own feelings that he’d totally forgotten about Harry. He needs a plan, he needs a way to make it up to him. He lets go of the balloon and it whooshes away from him and across the room. He stands up and grabs his coat.

“Niall, I have to go out for a bit.”

Niall looks up from his make-shift bar.

“What? Where?”

“Nowhere. Somewhere. I don’t know.” He is already heading for the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours!” He shouts before slamming the door.

-

Harry is quiet for the entire drive home. Anne knows better than to ask him what’s the matter. When she pulls up outside of his building she sends a quick text to Niall to let him know that Harry has arrived.

“Don’t rush off just yet, darling. Sit with me a moment.”

“Niall’s making dinner. He’ll burn the place down unless I help him.”

“I’m sure five minutes won’t make a difference, Harry.” She takes his hand. “So how does it feel turning 21?”

He shrugs.

“About the same as turning 20. Still feel like a kid.”

She laughs softly.

“That’s normal. You’ll always be my little boy.”

“I should go.”

“Okay. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

He gets out of the car. There are tears in Anne’s eyes as she pulls away.

-

Harry’s entrance goes without a hitch. He almost screams, drops his bag of presents and then his face cracks into a smile.

“Niall you fucking prick!” He laughs and hugs his friend. He looks around the room, spots more than a dozen of his and Niall’s old school friends, a handful of people from Cole’s that he’d hit it off with, and a few of the friend’s he and Niall had made in their first summer in Manchester. He sees Zayn leaning moodily against the wall, rolling a cigarette. Next to him is Louis, looking a little sheepish. He is dressed in black jeans, a grey t-shirt and a black jacket with a sheepskin collar. Harry’s heart skips a little and he looks away, busying himself with hugging his friends hello and allowing Niall to steer him towards the table of booze.

“It’s your 21^st and as your best friend it’s my mission to get you drunker than you’ve ever been in your life.”

He hands him a shot of tequila, a packet of salt and a wedge of lemon. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Louis deep in conversation with one of the ballet teachers at Cole’s, an attractive Swiss man in his early thirties. Louis has to stand on his tiptoes to hear him over the pulse of the music.

“Let’s get hammered.”

-

Two hours later and Louis still hasn’t had a chance to speak to Harry and the little white box containing his present is still deep in his jacket pocket. He’d been cornered by Xander for 45 minutes, then a theatre temp, and when he’d manage to escape her he’d been immediately ambushed by Zayn who dragged him outside for a cigarette.

“I need to talk to you.” Louis had glanced desperately around for Harry, spotted him downing a large glass of something bright pink. “Please Lou. He’ll still be here when you come back.”

There was something about Zayn’s expression that made Louis pause. “Of course, what’s up?” Zayn had just frowned and slid open the balcony door.

“Cigarette?” Louis takes one and let’s Zayn light it for him.

“So, what happened with Liam?”

Zayn inhales deeply.

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?” Louis asks, frowning.

“I mean nothing. Nothing’s happened. Not since we kissed. He’s been nothing but professional the whole time. I invited him for a drink last week and he brought some other guys from the office, said he thought we could ‘make a night of it’. It’s such a headfuck I’m beginning to think I imagined the whole thing.”

“Shit man, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. I wish I could say something different, something more helpful.”

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to say. He changed his mind. It’s that simple.”

“I dunno man, I saw the way he looked at you at the club that night. He didn’t look like he was just in it for one kiss.”

Zayn stares over the balcony and out over the city.

“What about you?” He asks Louis.

“What about me?”

“How’s your situation?” Louis says nothing and Zayn laughs. “Come on Lou, I’m your best friend. You think I don’t know when you’re hung up on someone?”

“I’m tired of going crazy about it. I’m tired of avoiding him. I think…I think I’m just going to tell him.”

Zayn glances over at him, eyes narrowing.

“You serious?”

“Yep. Tonight. When I give him his present. I’m going to just take him somewhere and tell him.”

“You know what you’re going to say?”

“No idea. I just need to tell him that the reason I’ve been such an arsehole lately isn’t because I don’t like him. The opposite, actually. And that it’s okay if he doesn’t feel the same but that I needed to get it off my chest.”

“He likes you back, Louis. I can tell that much. Thanks man, honestly you’ve really helped. Now get back inside and go get your boy.”

Louis hugs Zayn tightly and heads back inside. Zayn takes his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his phonebook.

I need to see you. Now.

He sends the text before he has time to change his mind, and then heads back inside himself. He’ll need a stiff drink whilst he waits for a reply.

-

Harry is not in the kitchen. He’s not in his room either, and when he goes to find Niall he says that he’s not seen him for half an hour. “He’ll be around here somewhere. Hey, he might have gone on a booze run with some of the lads. He’ll be back soon. Relax, come and have a drink with me.”

So Louis lets Niall pour him a large drink, mixing various spirits into a blue concoction that he presents to Louis with pride.

“I call it the ‘Niall in the coffin’. I’m thinking of going on Dragon’s Den with it, make my millions, what do you think?”

Louis takes a sip and almost chokes. He smiles at Niall reassuringly, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Yeah. It’s, err, it’s good.” He takes another few sips for courage as he waits for Harry’s return.

Half an hour later and the glass is empty and his head is spinning. When Niall’s friends had come back from the shops with bags of booze he hadn’t been with them.

He spots Zayn as he comes back in from the balcony, phone in hand.

He calls out to him but Zayn doesn’t listen, he walks to the door. Louis’ eyes follow him and he sees the door open and Liam come in.

He is barely inside the flat when Zayn grabs his hand and pulls him into the bathroom.

Louis lies back on the sofa, his eyes drooping.

Ten minutes, he’ll rest for ten minutes and then he’ll go and find Harry.

-

Zayn pushes the door closed and turns to Liam, who has a look of confusion on his face.

“Zayn what the hell, you said it was-”

“Do you like me?”

“Wait- what?”

“Do you like me? Do you have any feelings for me at all?”

“You called me all the way here to ask if I fancy you?”

“Yeah. Because when we kissed at yours I thought…but then you’ve barely even spoken to me for weeks, and you don’t want to be alone with me and it’s like…what the fuck?”

There is a tense silence between them. Zayn’s chest is heaving with frustration and nerves and he can feel the adrenaline like fire in his blood.

“Zayn…you’re fucking crazy.” Liam says, grabbing his hips and kissing him hard. They moan into each other’s mouths, their lips sliding over each other as naturally as if they’d done this a thousand times. Liam pulls away briefly, breathless.

“Just…so fucking crazy.”

Zayn growls slightly and tangles his fingers in Liam’s hair, pulling him back into the kiss, opening his mouth and swiping his tongue into Liam’s mouth. Moaning, Zayn pushes Liam backwards, towards the door, pressing him against it. Liam loops his leg behind Zayn’s, pulling their groins together.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck rings through Zayn’s brain. Liam’s hands slight around from Zayn’s hips to his bum and he digs his fingers into it roughly. Liam grinds into Zayn, cursing Topshop for selling such stupidly tight jeans.

“I want you.” Liam whispers, moving his mouth away from Zayn’s briefly.

“Want you too.” Zayn’s voice is shaky, his heart feeling as though it’s about to shoot out of his mouth. “Niall’s room…let’s go to Niall’s room.”

Liam shakes his head. “Can’t wait. Need it now.” he says through gritted teeth.

“Let me…let me suck you.” Zayn says, and there’s no time to be embarrassed before Liam is groaning his consent. Zayn bites Liam’s bottom lip roughly, before sliding down his body, pushing up his sweater and unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down to the floor. He gasps at the outline of Liam’s dick in his tight black boxers. He lets out a low moan of approval before slowly starting to pull them down too. Liam’s dick flips upwards as it’s released and Zayn’s mouth waters slightly.

Holy fuck.

It’s longer than Zayn’s but perhaps a little thinner and slightly curved. The head is already glistening with pre-come and Zayn feels like he could come now from just a touch. He bites his lip and looks at Liam, who is staring down with hunger in his eyes. Zayn places on hand on Liam’s stomach and curls the other one around the base of Liam’s stiff cock. He keeps his eyes locked on Liam’s as he leans into his crotch, flicking his tongue out at the last minute to lap at his slit. Liam groans and bucks his hips out slightly. Zayn smiles and parts his lips, placing the head in his wet mouth, loving how responsive Liam is. He slides his mouth down once, stopping halfway before dragging his lips back up. He repeats this a few times, always pausing at the same time before finally pushing his head down further and taking all of Liam in his mouth. Liam’s whole body tenses slightly.

“I won’t last if you keep going like that.” Zayn’s eyes glint menacingly as he tightens his lips around Liam and sucks quickly up and down, enjoying the slight choking sensation as Liam hits the back of his throat. He keeps up this pace, ignoring Liam’s strangled pleas until-

“Fuck-fuck- I’m coming, I’m-” and Zayn tastes Liam, swallowing greedily until Liam’s body stops bucking and twitching. He kneels back up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as Liam watches him as he pulls on his boxers and jeans.

“Zayn Malik you are so fucking hot.” Zayn grins and stands up, grabbing a quick drink at the sink. He goes to unlock the door but Liam’s voice stops him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” And the growl is back in his voice. “It’s my turn.”

-

When Louis opens his eyes it’s almost midnight, and the party seems to be more packed than ever. He stands up shakily, and looks around for a familiar face. Niall is sitting on the chair in the corner, scrolling through the music on his iPod. There is a curvy redhead in his lap and whatever she is whispering to him is making him laugh loudly.

Louis staggers to the bathroom, but finds it locked. The world is spinning and he needs to lie down before he collapses. He walks to Niall’s room, but finds two girls already passed out on his bed.

He pushes opens Harry’s door and the world rights itself just long enough to break his heart.

Harry is standing by the window, his arms around a man. The man has one hand on his hip and the other tangled in his hair. They are kissing each other breathlessly.

“Oh.” Louis says, his stomach churning so violently he is sure that at any moment he’ll puke. Harry and the man break apart, startled by the interruption. Harry looks towards the door, his eyes suddenly wide.

“Louis.” He says. Louis sways, and blinks back at him. The man’s hands are still on his hips and he is looking at Louis like he is looking at an irritating child.

“Sorry I- I just came to give you your present.” Louis manages to say. He reaches in his pocket and sets the white box on the bedside table. He turns and leaves before Harry can say anything else.

He staggers out into the hall and almost bumps into Zayn and Liam who are talking quietly, faces close together.

“Louis? Louis are you alright?”

Louis shakes his head, tears pricking at his eyes.

“I need to go home.” He says, and throws up all over Zayn’s shoes.

Chapter Text

Clara leans against the tree, picking at her nails nervously. She wants a cigarette. She wants a cup of coffee. She wants to be anywhere but waiting for Archie. She bristles when she hears her name being called across the park.

“Clara, looking angelic as ever.”

“Don’t.”

“What? Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Look, neither of us want to be here. So can we just get on with this so we can go our separate ways.”

A look of hurt flashes briefly across his face, but he recovers before she notices and smiles widely, teeth flashing.

“Whatever you say.”

They take a seat on a bench by a duck pond.

“So.” He begins.

“Don’t ‘so’ me. You’ve totally messed this up.”

It’s his turn to bristle.

“Excuse me? I’ve messed this up? What exactly have you been doing all of this time?”

“I knocked that pint over!”

“Oh yeah and a fat lot of good that did.”

“They met didn’t they?”

“For about five seconds.”

“Well you couldn’t even get them locked in a cupboard long enough for anything to happen.”

“It’s not my fault the bloody Irish one was passing! Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“Oh you would say that.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Some people just can’t see what’s staring them straight in the face. That’s not my problem. I say we leave them alone for a while.”

“Fine. Fine if you’re just going to give up then fine. I don’t need you anyway.”

He huffs out an incredulous laugh.

“I’m gone.” And he stands up and disappears into the air.

Clara’s fists are clenched at her sides and she is breathing heavily. It takes her a few moments to calm down. She opens her bag and fumbles around inside until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls out a gold book and opens it to her page. She takes out her pen and scribbles a few things in the margin. Stupid Archie and his stupid attitude. And his stupid perfect teeth and stupid beautiful eyes and-

Focus, Clara.

She checks her watch and stands up. She has places to be, and curly-haired boys to wake up.

CH6: The One Where Harry's Hangover Is Cosmic Punishment

Harry wakes with a jolt, as though he’s being shaken. He sits up in bed suddenly, but it takes him a few minutes to work out where he is. His eyes are somewhat stuck together and his mouth is desperately dry. Light streams in through the windows, and when he manages to get his eyes open he instantly regrets it.

“Eurgh.” He moans and throws an arm over his face.

He feels someone shift beside him, pulling some of the duvet towards the other side of the mattress. Harry freezes, and cracks open an eye to see who is sharing his bed.

Except it isn’t his bed at all. He forces his eyes open all the way and looks around. This room is far larger than his, with a sprawling double bed, large bay windows and wooden floors. He looks to his left and sees only a pale shoulder and a thatch of messy brown hair. He thinks for a moment, heart thudding in his chest.

He remembers arriving home and being surprised. He remembers Niall handing him a pint of blue liquid and telling him to drink up. He remembers staggering outside halfway through the night for fresh air, running into-

Shit.

The rest comes flooding back, and his head fills rapidly with flashes of the night. He’d been leaning against the wall outside of his building when he’d heard his name. He hadn’t recognised the voice at first, but then the figure had come closer and…

“Sam!”

“Alright Harry.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard that Niall was throwing you a party, thought I’d drop in. Had no idea you were even back.”

Harry had met Sam the first summer that he and Niall had come to Manchester. They’d run into each other at a party, Sam was DJing, had spotted Harry in the crowd and sought him out later. It had been nothing serious, just a few drunken shags. There had been something exciting about being pursued, especially by someone so much older.

“So- you’re 21 now. How does it feel?” Why did people keep asking him that?

“Feels alright. How does it feel being…how old are you now?”

“Old enough to know better than coming here tonight.” Sam had said, and leant down to kiss Harry’s cheek. “But there’s always been something about you.”

A pulse had run down Harry’s spine and something in him sparked. He knew he was drunk, and not thinking clearly, but he hadn’t cared.

He’d spent weeks thinking about Louis, constantly seeking him out, pushing for any kind of recognition. And then something had almost happened and Louis had run, straight out of the closet and out of Harry’s life. He hadn’t even talked to him once tonight. He didn’t want him. But Sam wanted him. Sam with his dark eyes and white teeth, his long fingers and broad chest.

“Come upstairs.” He’d said.

They’d slipped inside discreetly and Harry had pulled Sam towards his room, eager for anything, too drunk to care what. It was only when the door was closed and Sam’s hands were around his waist that he felt it. The unease, the sickness at realising that this, whatever it was, wouldn’t be enough. What he wanted was out there, with blue eyes and black shoes.

“What’s on your mind?” Sam had said and Harry had shaken his head and kissed him just to shut him up, to shut himself up, to stifle the voices in his head that were telling him to stop this.

And then the door had opened and somehow Harry had known before even breaking apart from Sam that it would be Louis.

“Oh.” His voice had been so quiet, so broken. Harry wanted to vault across the bed and gather him up and take him away. But he hadn’t, he’d just stood there, open mouthed and staring like an idiot. And as quick as he had come Louis was gone.

“Who was that?” Sam asked, nibbling Harry’s ear. Harry’s stomach was turning.

“Nobody.” He pushed his lips back against Sam’s, desperate for contact, desperate for anything to stop him thinking. “I need to get out of here. Can we go to yours?”

-

He groans and lies back against the pillow, trying to remember what had happened after that. He can remember getting back to Sam’s, being pushed and pulled into the bedroom, his clothes coming off and then…and then what? He can’t feel the familiar morning after ache of sex, has no memory of doing anything but having fallen backwards onto the bed and sleeping.

He digs around on the floor for jeans. He pulls his phone out of the pocket and checks his texts. There are several from Niall, as well as 8 missed calls.

Where did u get to? Louis looking for u. tb x

Hary wat is aheppning where are u just walkd in on Zayn and Liam in the bathroom. My EYES. Call me back.

Oky wats happening Louis chundered on Zayn ur not in ur room??

HaZ manwwhere are you// wioreed abt u man text me plase

He taps out a quick reply, tells Niall he’s fine and will be home soon, not that Niall will be awake before 9 on a Sunday. He climbs quietly out of bed, looking around the room for his clothes. He locates his shirt across a lampshade in the corner, his jacket at the foot of the bed. He dresses quickly and heads out of the room and into the bathroom. He splashes his face with cold water and dries it slowly on the hand towel. He takes a long drink from the tap and then looks at himself. His eyes are bloodshot and bruised looking, and his hair is pushed back crookedly on one side. He tries to smooth it down, but it is as uncooperative as usual.

He tiptoes into the kitchen and pulls on his shoes, which are by the door. Then he leaves without another look back.

It takes him a few minutes to work out where the hell he is, but realises with relief that he is only about 10 minutes from his and Niall’s flat. He walks quickly, his stomach a pit of unease, flashes of Louis’ face springing up in his mind every few steps.

He has to knock on the door when he gets up to his and Niall’s floor, as his keys are still inside. Niall comes to the door a few minutes later, bleary eyed, dressed only in a pair of pants and one sock.

“Jesus fuck Harry, where have you been?”

“Long story.” Harry shrugs off his jacket and pulls off his shoes.

“You have fun last night?”

Niall looks around at the mess and nods.

“Suppose I must have done.” He pauses and rubs his eyes. “Did you? I didn’t see you most of the night.”

“I went back with Sam.”

Niall’s forehead creases as he tries to place the name.

“Sam…Sam…no way. Not Sam Corrigan?”

Harry nods and goes to pour himself a glass of water.

“What was he even doing here?”

“Dunno. Think he just wanted to say hello.”

“Say hello? You’ve not seen the bloke for what, 2 years? And he wants to say hello? That’s rich. Wasn’t he an utter prick to you?”

“No he was...I don’t know. It was never serious.”

“And you hooked up with him last night?”

“A bit. Can’t remember. I was too far gone to think straight.”

“You weren’t the only one. You get my text about Louis?”

“Yeah. Is he okay?”

“Zayn took him home. He was fine after he threw up the once, but…I dunno man he looked proper cut up about something. He was practically crying on Zayn’s shoulder about something. You got any idea what that was about?” Niall is looking hard at Harry.

Harry’s heart is bumping hard in his chest. He manages to shake his head.

“No clue.”

Niall shrugs.

“Probably just too much to drink.” He yawns and stretches. “Dunno about you but I need at least 4 more hours sleep before I tackle this mess.” He rubs Harry’s shoulders and heads back off to bed. Any other day and Harry would have been able to laugh at the large drawing of a penis on Niall’s back, but his head is too full of other things to even notice.

He was practically crying on Zayn’s shoulder about something.

Harry sits down heavily on a chair and slumps over the table.

-

Sunday goes by in a blur. Harry tries to sleep, but can’t manage it, his head a mess of guilt and regret and dehydration. He gives up trying at about 11 and goes to tidy the flat. It’s not as bad as he had expected, and his main task is collecting empty bottles and cans and putting them out for recycling. There are a few spills on the table and the floor, and an incredibly intriguing blue footprint on the ceiling.

By the time Niall crawls back out of bed at 2 o’clock most of the cleaning is done, and Harry is lying on the sofa with a cup of tea and the golf on.

“You shoulda woke me.” Niall says, perching on the arm of the sofa.

“I needed the distraction.” Harry says, not looking up.

“Are you that hungover? Or are you regretting your little hook up already?”

“Both, I think. I’m never drinking again.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Eugh, spirits.” Harry says, his stomach churning.

Niall laughs and rubs Harry’s feet.

“Chin up, at least we don’t have work until tomorrow.”

Harry groans again. Work is the last thing he wants to think about. He’s been too much of a coward to text Louis, and the thought of seeing him as soon as tomorrow fills him up with dread. Why had he had to kiss Sam? Why had Louis walked in right then? Why why why why why.

“You want a cuppa?”

“Cheers.”

Niall gets up and wanders into the kitchen.

“Hey Niall.” Harry shouts from the sofa, not looking up from the golf.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a dick on your back.”

-

“Louis you have to get up at some point.” Zayn says through the door.

Louis grunts.

Louis hopes that his grunt manages to convey to Zayn that no, in fact he does not have to get up at some point, and that he can stay in bed indefinitely like John and Yoko did, and enjoy a carefree existence outside of the capitalist machinery that he has been trapped in since birth.

“You are not Yoko Ono. Get the fuck out of bed.”

Zayn is a wizard.

Louis pushes back the duvet and drops his feet to the floor. He opens the door and pushes past Zayn as he trudges into the living room. He flops down on the sofa.

“That’s not exactly what I meant by getting up.”

Louis ignores it and waggles his fingers to get the attention of his cats. Spencer, Fox and Princess slink over and curl up around his feet and legs. Ian scampers over a moment later and sits on Louis’ head. Louis gently lifts him off and sets him down on the footstool in front of him, stroking him slowly along his back. The kittens are getting bigger every day.

“My furchildren. You’ll never leave me.” Spencer stretches and stalks away. Fox and Princess follow. Only Ian remains.

“Ian. My only friend.”

Zayn comes back in and folds his arms, staring pointedly at Louis.

“Come on Louis, you can’t mope around all day. So Harry kissed someone else, it was his birthday. And you have been a dick lately.”

“You know what Zayn, I really can’t be bothered to hear this today. Unless you’re gunna be nice then you can fuck off.”

Zayn slams the door on his way out. Louis doesn’t try to call him back. He rubs Ian behind the ears.

“Just me and you then babe. Always left alone by the people we love most. We’re more alike than you think.” He says to the little ginger cat in front of him. Ian meows in agreement, licks his paw and pees on Louis’ sofa.

Chapter Text

CH7: The One Where It’s Now Or Never

After deep cleaning his sofa and giving Ian a very stern telling off, Louis decides to stop feeling sorry for himself. He showers and shaves and put on a clean pair of underwear, before texting Zayn a grovelling apology.

He knows he needs to be rational about this. Harry kissed someone. Louis has no right to be upset, it’s not like he and Harry have ever kissed. Harry has every right to kiss whoever he pleases. 

But something in him still churns with jealousy every time he thinks about Harry’s mouth on someone else’s, Harry’s hands in their hair, clothes on the floor, skin against skin-

Fuck.

Louis Tomlinson needs another deep clean to remove Harry Styles from his brain.

(but what if he likes you back?) he kissed someone else.

(he wanted to kiss you in the closet) he kissed someone else

(you never told him how you feel) he KISSED someone else

Louis brain is a total mess. He needs professional help. He needs to talk to someone who isn’t totally stupidly tangled up in this whole thing. He gets out his phone and dials.

“Mum?”

“No, it’s Lottie. Mum’s out with the kids.”

“Shit, alright, you’ll have to do.”

“What’s up?” Lottie pops some bubblegum on the other end of the line.

“I need advice…about a boy.”

Lottie snorts with laughter.

“I should have guessed. What’s the matter?”

Louis takes a deep breath and tells her the whole sorry story. Two hours (and three cups of tea) later, he is finished, and awaits her advice.

“Go out and shag someone else, I dunno.”

He buries his head in his hands.

“And how will that help?”

“Well you know what they say, best way to get over someone is-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard the phrase. Although I really don’t think at your age-”

“I’m an adult now! You’re the one calling your mum because you don’t know how to get over a boy. Maybe at your age you should know better. Ever thought of that?”

“No I-”

“If you can’t own up to how you feel then you should just go out, get laid and stop complaining.”

“Yeah well- it’s not- oh just piss off.”

“Whatever, you know I’m right.”

She hangs up the phone and Louis cries out in frustration. He thinks about going to Zayn's, but he’ll be with Liam and having to watch them fawn all over each other will only make him feel worse.

He pulls on a pair of jeans, grabs his keys, and leaves his flat. He needs fresh air, he needs to think. He leaves his car in the carpark and walks through his neighbourhood. He isn’t thinking about going anywhere in particular, but when he stops in front of a wire fence an hour later he realises that on some unconscious level he knew exactly where his feet were taking him. He pushes the metal forward and slips in through the small gap between two sections of the fence. He walks towards the black building that it encloses. He hasn’t been back for months. Things had been so good lately he hadn’t wanted to escape them. That was all changing now, though.

He pushes the heavy door and enters the building.

The foyer of the old theatre has gathered a new layer of dust and debris since the last time he had come here. The part of the wall that has been knocked away allows enough light to stream in that the room is not in total gloom. But the sky outside is a heavy grey and darkening quickly and in a few hours or less the theatre will be bathed in darkness.

Louis crosses the foyer slowly, the dirt on the floor crunching underfoot. He reaches the other side and pushes open the gold door. The corridor it leads to is unlit, but he knows it well enough by now. 24 steps forward and he’ll reach another door.

He counts slowly, one hand on the wall. He reaches out his hand and feels for the handle. He pushes through and comes out into the theatre.

Enough of the ceiling has been pulled away to allow some light in, and a transparent tarpaulin protects the seats and stage from the worst of the weather damage. Not that it matters, in a few months the place will be gone.

The air smells damp and the wallpaper is peeling off in fat strips, but some part of Louis thinks he can still feel the electricity of the place, hear the thunderous applause from days gone by. He walks slowly to the stage, climbs the rotting steps with care.

In the centre of the stage is Louis’ favourite thing in the world.

He pulls away the thick plastic sheets and sits down at the grand piano. He strokes the keys, enjoying the coolness of the ivory under his fingertips.

The last time he’d played here was the week before Patrick had died. He’d come every night, vented his anger and grief into these very keys.

His fingers push down. He begins to play.

The building, now condemned, had once belonged to the Cole Institute. They’d staged hundreds of performances here. Louis’ first starring role, Danny Zuko in Grease, had been performed on this very stage. It was sold a couple of years ago and only recently scheduled for demolition.

But Louis knew the place like the back of his hand, and nothing had stopped him from coming. It was his place, and not even Zayn knew that he still came.

He plays on, and eventually he stops thinking about Harry, the kiss, the sick knot in his stomach, and he just thinks about the ghostly echo of each note around the room.

-

On Monday Harry arrives early to school with Niall, who has to set up the projector in the music room before his lesson begins. Harry stays with him whilst he works, slowly sipping a cup of tea. They sit in comfortable silence until Niall straightens up and reattaches the projector to its grid on the ceiling.

“So, how you feeling?”

Harry looks up from his lap.

“About what?”

“You know about what. Seeing Louis.”

“Oh. That.” Harry shrugs. “Fine, nothing’s happened really, there’s just…I dunno. It’s not like either of us did anything wrong.”

“So you’re not gunna talk to him about things?”

“I don't know. I just want things to go back to normal.” He takes a gulp from his cup and shoots Niall a smile.

“Alright, if you’re sure. Still think it’s a bit of a shame though, thought there was something building between yous two.”

“It is what it is. Anyway, I better be going. I’m meant to be in the sound booth all day.” He pulls a face and Niall laughs.

“Grim man, good luck. See you at lunch?”

“Sure.” Harry picks up his tea and sets off to the theatre. And if he avoids the main entrance and slips in by the back door then that’s his business, and has absolutely nothing to do with avoiding Louis.

-

When Louis arrives in the theatre at 6th period the stage is empty. He checks his watch and frowns. The lesson after lunch is always late to start, with his juniors dragging their lunch breaks out for as long as possible. He sets down the box of scripts that he’s carrying and busies himself unpacking them into a neat pile on the table in front of the stage. He’s so immersed that he doesn’t hear the door swing open and then shut.

It’s only when he hears his name that he looks up.

Harry is standing 10 feet away, scuffing one shoe nervously on the floor.

Louis is struck dumb for a moment, but manages to recover himself. He pulls on a smile and turns to face Harry properly.

“Harry! Hey man, how are you doing?”

“Um, yeah, no, I’m okay. How are you?”

Louis notes the concerned edge in Harry’s voice and bristles internally. Why should Harry be concerned about him? Why would he assume he was anything but totally fine after Saturday night? It’s not like Louis had ever even told Harry that he’d liked him.

“I’m great, actually. Yeah, really good.” He grins even wider, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

Harry’s forehead creases for a moment, but then he wipes his expression clean.

“Good. Good to know.”

Louis bites the bullet.

“So how was your birthday? Sorry I didn’t see you I got a bit carried away and apparently Zayn had to take me home.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Nope. Don’t remember anything.”

Harry’s jaw is clenched in obvious annoyance.

“Louis I-”

But before he can carry on the door behind him flies open and a stream of noisy students spills in.

“Sorry Haz- Harry. Sorry Harry, I have to get on. But we’ll catch up later.” His face is starting to hurt from forcing his smile for so long. Harry nods curtly and leaves.

Louis allows his face to drop and he sinks down onto the steps in front of the stage.

“You alright Tommo?”

Sabine tips her head to one side and looks at him, chewing her gum slowly.

“Yes Sabine, never better. Now put your gum in the bin and take your seat.” He stands up and forces his smile back into position.

You know the drill Louis; lights, camera, action.

He doesn’t let his face slip until he gets home 3 hours later, when he collapses on the sofa and buries his face in a pillow.

And if he lets a few tears fall then it’s his business and has absolutely nothing to do with Harry.

-

The rest of the week continues in a similar vein, with neither Harry or Louis willing to show that they’re anything apart from perfectly happy with the situation between them. This means that they both staunchly refuse to avoid or ignore the other. This amuses Niall at first, but pretty quickly he tires of the forced cheerfulness and strained conversation between his two friends.

He starts avoiding the staff room where he knows that Harry and Louis will be, and instead he eats lunch in the cafeteria with Paul, the other temp music teacher. When he is unable to avoid the staffroom with Harry and Louis he has to endure the two of them smiling like horror-film clowns at one another, and talking about how wonderful and fantastic everything is.

Things all come to a head at Friday lunchtime.

“Things are just great.”

“That’s good Louis, I’m glad that things are just great for you because they’re just great for me too.”

“That’s great, Harry, really. I’m pleased. I’m really happy.”

“You’re happy? Then I’m happy. So, so happy.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Oh you’re glad, because-”

“WOULD YOU BOTH JUST SHUT UP.”

Harry and Louis, who up until then had been staring hard at one another, both turn quickly to Niall, who has stood up in his chair.

“What the-” Harry begins, but Niall cuts him off.

“No, just shut up. I don’t want to hear any more of this shit. You’re like a pair of fucking kids and it’s doing my NUT.” He shakes his head and storms out of the door. He comes back a moment later, red in the face.

“You need to sort this out before it goes too far.” He slams the door again and they hear him cursing all the way down the hall.

There is a tense silence between them.

“This is your fault.” Harry is the first to speak.

“My fault?” Louis explodes, standing up in his chair and glaring at Harry. “How exactly is this my fault?”

“You’re the one who started this, this…act, this fucking pretence. Whatever the fuck it is. Acting like you’re totally fine.”

“Maybe I am fine, maybe it’s not a fucking act, did you think of that?”

“I can see through you, Louis. I see you.”

“You don’t see the first thing- oh you know what fuck this, it’s just so fucking typical.”

“How the fuck would you know what's typical! You don’t know me- you don’t want to know me. You’ve made that pretty clear this week.”

Harry is standing too, and there is no more than 2 feet between them. Harry’s chest is heaving and the air seems to spark with electricity.

“I’ve wanted to-.” Louis’ voice is low and insistent. “You’re the one who-”

“The one who what? Didn’t stick around for you to make your mind up about me? I’m sorry but you had your chance. All last week you had your chance. And you ran away from me.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. “Louis I like you. I like you so much it makes my head spin but honestly, I can’t keep doing this. You have to decide what you want. Reach out and grab it, remember.”

They stand in silence for a few seconds.

And then Harry turns away from Louis and the spell is broken. He scrapes back his chair and picks up his bag. The door swings shut and Louis is alone. He sinks back into his chair and rests his head on the table. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s Louis Tomlinson, confident, carefree. Doesn’t get attached, doesn’t get hurt. He’s supposed to make people laugh he’s not supposed to make them hurt. Not Harry, never Harry.

“You fucking idiot.” He whispers to himself. He keeps his head down, knowing without having to look that the world is a tangled mess around him.

-

“Please Niall!”

“No, shove off I’m tired.”

“But we haven’t been out for ages. Come on, I’ll pay?”

“I’ve been on my feet for 14 hours. Tomorrow night, maybe?”

Harry scowls at Niall’s feet, which are hanging off the edge of his bed. He taps his foot impatiently, and then sighs in exasperation.

“Fine, I’ll go on my own.”

He storms into his bedroom before Niall can reply. He quickly does his hair in the mirror and grabs his jacket. He checks his watch. 7:55. Still early, but he can work with that. He needs a drink and he needs it now.

He doesn’t say goodbye to Niall on his way out.

When he gets to Eye Candy there is no queue, and he walks inside quickly, out of the cold. He orders a double vodka and coke, and swiftly finishes it. He orders another. He keeps ordering until the room is pulsing pleasantly and his head starts to fog.

He finds a seat in the corner of the bar, and watches the room.

A man with dark red hair watches him from a table a few feet away, one eyebrow cocked. When Harry spots him his stomach flips, before he realises that of course, it can’t be him, it can’t be-

“Hey. Are you alone?”

The man has approached Harry and is leaning against his table and leering down at him. He is in his late thirties, perhaps early forties. He is wearing an expensive suit and his white shirt is unbuttoned at the top. He is not Harry’s type, he’s too old, too slimy.

He’s not Louis.

“Not anymore.” Harry hears himself say, and moves along so the man can sit next to him. He takes a big gulp of his drink.

-

Louis is just leaving his office when he hears it first.

“Tell him.”

He looks at the cleaner, the only other person in the hallway.

“Excuse me?” He says.

The young woman looks up at him, takes out her earphones.

“Sorry?” She says.

“Did you- did you say something just now?”

She shakes her head and continues wiping the windows. He checks the time on his phone, 8:30. He’s been at work for more than 11 hours, drunk 6 cups of coffee, barely eaten, and since the row with Harry- well, it’s no wonder he’s hearing things.

But then he hears it again on the way home. He is stopped at the traffic lights by the school and he winds down the window, hoping that the fresh air will help him clear his head. A car pulls up beside him, music blaring.

“Tell him.” It’s less clear this time, obscured by the music but he’s sure he heard it again. He stares around in confusion. He looks in the backseat, half expecting to see someone there.

It’s his brain playing tricks on him. It has to be.

Tell him? Tell him what? Tell who what?

He needs a gin and tonic and a bath. He needs to stop drinking whole mugs of coffee like they’re shots of espresso.

He turns up the radio to full volume for the duration of the drive home. He parks up and gets out of the car tentatively. Silence.

He presses the button for the lift and waits. The number on the display drops slowly as the lift descends. When the doors open he sees that there is a woman inside. He steps back to let her pass. She walks past him, their shoulders touch and he hears it again:

“Tell him.” Clear as a bell.

He freezes for a beat and then spins around. The woman is a few feet away, almost at the door to the carpark.

“What did you say?” He calls after her, heart thudding in his chest.

She turns and Louis sees her for the first time. Her hair is pearl-white and streams smoothly all the way down her back. Her eyes are impossibly dark, shining at him even from so far away. Her coral lips turn up in a smile.

“I said you should tell him how you feel.” And then she is gone, through the door and out of sight. The lift doors close but Louis barely notices. He runs across the lobby and pushes open the door in pursuit of the woman.

But when he stares out into the carpark he sees only dead headlights and concrete. She is nowhere to be seen.

He stands very still for a moment, letting his heart slow a little before he can begin to think again.

I said you should tell him how you feel.

He shakes his head. It’s all so ridiculous, so impossible. She was just some madwoman, some lunatic who happened to live in his building. But still…there was something in her eyes that had seemed so very sure, as though she saw right through him. It was a look he’d already seen today at lunch, only the eyes that had held it then had been green.

Tell him.

He runs back to his car.

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.

He breaks several speed limits on the way to Niall and Harry’s flat.

“Harry! Harry let me in.” He bangs on the door again, hard. “Harry!”

Niall opens the door, rubbing his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“I need to see Harry. I need to speak to him.”

“He’s not here Lou, he’s gone out.”

“Shit. Where? Where’s he gone?” Louis’ voice is insistent and Niall frowns at him, still bleary eyed.

“Eye Candy I think- hey Lou, Lou what’s going on?”

But Louis is already running in the other direction.

I’ve got to tell him. And nothing has ever felt so important.

-

Harry leans back against the wall. The man he’s with- James or Jim or something- is speaking, talking about his job or some other nonsense. Harry nods, half listening. The alcohol is making waves in his blood and the room is starting to spin alarmingly. The music sounds odd and tinny in his ears.

“We should get out of here.” The man’s voice is low, his hot breath against Harry's face unpleasant. It’s too close, too much.

He is about to respond when a gorgeous tanned man with dark blonde hair appears to Harry’s left and knocks into them. James (or Jim) gets drenched in the stranger’s drink.

“Jesus, watch it would you?” James/Jim says in annoyance, looking down at his ruined shirt.

“Sorry, clumsy me.” The man says with no hint of remorse, weaving his way through the crowd and out of sight. He stops at the other side of the bar and sets his now empty glass down on a table in front of a blonde woman. Her mouth opens slightly, in shock.

“Okay, I know I’ve been an arsehole Clara, but I want to help. Please if you'd just hear me out-”

But Archie is cut off mid sentence by Clara's arms around his neck and her lips on his.

-

Harry watches as Jim/James (maybe Jude?) navigates his way to the toilets. He should leave now, before the man comes back and Harry does something he regrets. He should text Louis and apologise, make things right and-

Stop thinking. That was the point of tonight wasn’t it? To stop moping, stop going over and over everything in his head. Another drink.

He starts to walk towards the bar, but stops when he hears his name. He turns around and sees Louis coming quickly towards him.

“Louis? What are you doing here?”

“I- I came to talk to you. I went to your flat but you weren’t there and Niall said you’d be here so, so…hi.”

His head is still foggy and in the dim light of the bar Louis looks like a part of a dream. He wants to reach out and touch him, but something holds him back.

“What do you want, Louis?”

Louis stares at him, opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it again.

“Harry I- I just- I-” Louis is fumbling for the words and Harry shakes his head.

“You can’t say it, can you? Even now you can't say it.”

There is a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and he turns to see the man from earlier.

“You want to get out of here?” He says in Harry’s ear, ignoring Louis entirely. Louis bites his lip, arms limp at his side.

“It’s now or never, Lou.”

Just tell him.

But he can’t now, it’s too late. He’s not good at this, he never has been. He realises suddenly that this is the first time in his life he’s ever stood in front of a boy and tried to tell him how he feels. And he just can’t do it.

He wants to tell Harry to stay. He wants to tell him that he’s more important than he could ever know, that even though they’ve barely known each other a month he can’t imagine breathing if Harry wasn’t there in his life.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the moment’s gone, Harry’s already walking away with someone else, and Louis is too late.

-

Harry climbs in the taxi, heart pumping in his ears. He hears the man talking low in his ear, feels the drag of the car as it pulls away from the curb. He tries to clear his head, tries to think about anything but Louis standing alone in the bar. His heart lurches.

“I have to get out.”

“What?”

“Stop the cab. Stop, I need to get out.”

The cab pulls over and he stumbles out. The man makes to follow him but he pushes him back in.

“No, just go home. Leave me alone.”

The man looks shocked for a moment, and then sneers at Harry.

“Fucking cock-tease.” He slams the door and the cab disappears into the night. Harry sways on his feet for a few seconds and then ducks behind a bus stop to be sick.

When he’s finished heaving he leans against the cool plastic of the shelter, waiting for the burning in his throat to subside.

When he can stand he staggers to the roadside, hails another cab and goes home.

-

Louis stays in the bar. He orders a vodka, but doesn’t touch it. He sits and watches the hours go by.

When midnight comes he abandons his untouched drink and leaves, enjoying the bitterness of the air after a few hours in the oppressive warmth of Eye Candy. His car is parked a few streets away, and as he walks to it he thinks of what Harry had said.

Reach out and grab it.

Why hadn’t he? Since when had it all been so hard?

Where are you when I need you, eh Patrick? You’d know what to do. You always did.

If the old man was there he’d tell Louis to buck his ideas up. He’d tell him that life is a series of uncertain moments, and that you have to go for what you want, you have to reach out and take what’s yours, because the world won’t hand you a damn thing. Take it. Be brave.

But Louis hasn’t been brave in a very long time.

I don’t know how to be brave without you.

He rests his head on the steering wheel and cries. He lets himself sob and cry out, he lets himself fall apart for a few minutes, he lets himself miss every person he'd ever loved and lost. And then he sniffs and wipes his eyes and starts the car.

When he gets home he finds Ian has scratched a hole in the food bag and is now asleep in a pile of cat treats. He picks him up and puts him to bed. He drops his jacket on the chair and turns the kitchen light off.

He pushes open the door to his bedroom and freezes. 

His bed is already occupied.

Harry Styles is curled up on top of his mattress, sound asleep, with a white box clutched in his hand.

Chapter Text

CH8: The One Where Even The End Is A Beginning

4 Years Earlier

“Patrick? Pat I’ve got your shopping.”

Louis kicks the door shut behind him and drops the heavy bags on the table. He hears the pad of footsteps in the hall and Patrick emerges a few moments later. Louis pulls out a chair for the old man and flicks on the kettle before starting to unload the bags.

“Thanks, Louis.” Patrick approaches the chair slowly and sinks into it with care, wincing a little. Louis frowns and looks closely at the man. His eyes look puffy and bruised and his skin seems paler, more lined than the last time he'd seen him

.

“Are you alright, Pat? Your hip still keeping you up?”

“Oh, my hip, my chest, my bones.” He manages a small laugh. “At my age it’s all giving me trouble. Nothing to worry about though, kid. I’ll be right as rain when I get a cuppa in me.”

As if on cue the kettle finishes boiling. Louis makes two large cups of tea and sets one down in front of Patrick, who smiles in thanks and wraps his large bony hands around it.

Louis finishes unloading the shopping and then takes a seat at the table opposite his friend.

“So, how’s tricks? Any ladies on the scene Paddy?”

The old man wheezes a little as he laughs.

“I’ve always been a one woman man, you know me. Jackie wouldn’t have it, me shacking up with someone else.” He smiles a little sadly at Louis and takes a sip of tea.

“You missing her?”

“Every minute of every day.”

“She was a great lady, Pat.”

“The very best.” Patrick sets down his cup of tea and looks at Louis, his eyes creasing at the sides. “Did I ever tell you how we met, me and the missus?”

Louis shakes his head.

“It’s a corker.” He takes of his glasses with care and cleans them slowly on his jumper. “I was 17 the first time I saw Jackie Warner. I had finished school the year before and had just got a job in a factory not far from here. One day I was walking home from work, minding my own business, when I saw a girl about my age walking into a library. I didn’t see her face, I just saw her coat and hair as she walked by, but for some reason I had to follow her, just to see what she looked like. It was like I was hypnotised by her. So I went into the library, but I couldn’t see her at first. So I picked up a book at random, turned out to be some music book, Piano for beginners or something, and I took a seat. And then I saw her, at the desk, stamping books. And she was just the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen. She looked like Rita Hayworth, no word of a lie. And I couldn’t take my eyes off her. But then she saw me looking, of course and I had to look away, pretend I’m reading my book, you know. And I sit there and read the whole thing, stealing little glances when I think she’s not looking. But then she comes over and asks me what I’m reading, and I show her and she asks me if I’m learning to play. So I panic and say yes, I’ve got my first lesson tomorrow. And she smiles and says that she loves to listen to the piano. I just nod, because my head’s suddenly empty, and she smiles and goes back to her desk. And I knew right then that I was in love.”

“What did you do?” Louis asks, “Did you ask her out?”

“Are you joking? A girl like that?  Of course I didn’t ask her out. I checked out the book and left. I got a music lesson the very next afternoon.”

“Wait, you actually learnt to play?”

“Louis Tomlinson I was your music teacher for 3 years, of course I learnt to play.”

“Alright, alright. So, what did you do then?”

“I waited. I went back almost every afternoon, whenever she was working. And I read my way through the whole music section. And she would come over on her breaks and she would ask me about what I was reading, ask me about my piano lessons. She said she’d love to hear me play sometime.”

“So did you? Did you play for her?”

“No chance! This was my soulmate, Louis. I wasn’t about to play her twinkle twinkle little star! Not when she deserved a symphony. No, I was biding my time. I waited.”

“For how long?”

“Two years.”

“Two years?!” Louis asks in disbelief.

“Two whole years, until one day when I was finally ready. I bought her some flowers, put on my best shirt and went to the library to ask her out.”

“I hope she said yes after all that.”

“She didn’t say anything. She wasn’t there.”

“Where was she then?” The steam from Louis’ tea is dancing into the air, curving and curling into nothing.

“Scotland. Her replacement was there, and she told me that Jackie’s family had upped and moved suddenly the day before. There was no forwarding address, no second name. Nothing. I had lost her.”

“What did you do?” Louis asks quietly.

“What was there to do? I had to let it go. I started playing professionally, all over town. And then I was offered a job at a school in Leeds. So I took it. There was nothing for me in Manchester anymore, so I took the job and left. I moved on with my life, my job was good, I had good friends, a nice flat. I even had a steady girlfriend. Things were good, more than good really. I’d never in my wildest dreams expected to have so many wonderful things. It would have been foolish to throw them away. So I convinced myself that I was forgetting her, forgetting Jackie. I put my thoughts of her away in a little box in my head and got on with my life. But then, three years after she had left I was crossing the road in Leeds and I saw a flash of red hair and the bus stop, and just like that I knew it was her. I didn’t have to think for more than one second before running to catch that bus myself. I bought a ticket to the end of the line and sat down next to Jackie and said hello. She’d been looking in her bag, but when she heard me she looked up. And the way she looked at me then…well it was like being seen for the first time. Do you know what that means?”

“No. But it sounds wonderful.”

“It was wonderful. It was like coming home. And she didn’t take her eyes off me until we got to the station. And she said she had to get off her, she had a train to catch. And I said me too, and she asked me where I was going. And I told her, I said ‘I’m going wherever you’re going.’ And we got off the bus together.”

“You smooth bastard.” Louis smiles.

“Oh, the smoothest. I bought a train ticket to Glasgow and we didn’t stop speaking the whole journey. She didn’t live far from the station, so I walked her to her flat. And I told her that I had something to do, but that I’d be back. She just smiled and nodded, and said ‘Alright, but I’ve waited 5 years and I’m not sure how much longer I could stand it.’ So I kissed her cheek and ran back to the station. When I got home I went to see my girl, and I told her that I was truly sorry, but that I was not the man who deserved her, and that I had to go. She just looked at me like she already understood, and told me that she hoped I found my heaven. I got the next train back to Jackie, and never looked back.”

“That’s like…something out of a film. You hero.”

“Really? Because it seems like I was just the coward who made the love of his life wait for five years for me. Now I don’t regret a single second of my life with Jackie, not one. She was the sun and stars to me, kid. But if I could go back…if I could go back I would grab myself by the collar and I would tell that 17 year old boy to be brave, to be brave and to make that girl his. Five years, Louis, we could have had five more years. It feels like a lifetime now she’s gone.”

Patrick falls silent, his eyes heavy with memory. Louis feels a coldness settling in his stomach. He rests his hand over the old man’s.

“I’m glad I met you, Patrick. And you are a hero, even if it’s just for giving me a chance.”

Patrick turns his eyes to Louis and smiles.

“I’m glad I met you, too. Even if you did make my life hell for six months before I realised you were more than just a gobby layabout.”

“You sure that’s not all I am?” Louis jokes but Patrick doesn’t laugh.

“You’re whatever you want to be Louis. You’re one of the best people I know, and will do so many great things.”

Louis feels his throat tighten and his lip wobbles slightly, almost imperceptibly. He clears his throat and takes his hand back.

“I just need to worry about graduating first, and then you can help me figure out the rest.”

The old man only looks at him, his lips stretching into a sad smile. They sit and talk for another hour, until Louis checks his watch and realises he has to be at the rehearsal for his Senior showcase in 15 minutes.

“Shit, I better run.” He leans down to hug Patrick, holding on a little longer than usual. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Louis pulls on his shoes and runs out of the door.

Patrick sits there for a while longer, enjoying the peace of the empty room. Then he heaves himself up and puts the empty mugs by the sink. He walks slowly into the living room and takes a seat in his old armchair, relaxing into the grooves of the cushions. Sunlight streams in from the window and cuts across the room, bathing him in warmth. He feels his limbs start to relax and he falls asleep.

When he wakes the world is dark. He stands up, surprised at once by the ease of his movements. He takes a step forwards towards the kitchen, and stops when he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror above the mantelpiece. In the moonlight he makes himself out, and his heart starts to pound.

His face is uncreased, and there are no deep frown lines bracketing his lips. His hair is thick and brown, and full at the front, falling down over his forehead. He looks down at his old factory uniform. When he goes to smooth it out he can feel the light grit of sawdust that always used to cling on after his shift. He can smell the wood and the dust of the old warehouse.

“I loved you the first time I saw you, you know.” His skin tingles and he looks up. The front door is open and Jackie is leaning against it slightly, her hair as red as burning coals. He walks towards her, each step an infinity, until finally he is close enough to touch her. He reaches for her hand. It is warm and soft and he realises that he is finally home. She smiles and he feels like he did that day on the bus, when she looked up from her bag and saw him.

“We have a train to catch, darling.” She says, and leads him through the door and into the golden light.

-

Louis stands frozen in the doorway.

Harry is curled up on his bed, sound asleep and breathing steadily. He takes a step towards him, slowly, his heart beating painfully. Harry is still wearing his jacket, but he’s taken off his shoes and tucked them neatly under Louis’ bed. For some reason this makes him want to start crying again.

He reaches out a hand and settles it on Harry’s shoulder. He squeezes gently, and Harry shifts, his eyes flickering slightly before opening properly. He blinks a few times before his gaze connects with Louis’.

“Lou.” He says, voice a little croaky with sleep.

“How are you here?”

“Niall had a spare key and I…I just needed to see you.”

“I thought…I thought that you went with that guy?”

Harry swings his legs around and stands up, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.

“No I- I couldn’t go through with it, so I went home on my own. I was going to go to bed, to sleep it off…but I saw this down on the floor. I’d forgotten about it…I’m so sorry but I’d forgotten.”

“Did you open it?” Louis voice is barely more than a whisper. Harry nods, and reaches under the collar of his shirt to pull out the thin silver chain. The ship pendent swings slightly, shining as it catches the light.

“It’s perfect.” Harry says, and drops it to rest back against his skin.

“Harry I- I don’t know where to start. I’m sorry. I’m a coward and I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too, Louis. I’m so scared. I don’t understand this at all. I just know that I like you, and it’s big and confusing and fucking terrifying. But if you’re in this with me then- then it’s alright.”

“I want that, I want that so badly but- but I’m no good at this.”

“I’ll be good enough for us both, then.” 

“What if we get hurt.”

“What if we don’t?” Harry says, licking his lips. Louis’ hands are trembling slightly when he reaches for the chain of Harry’s necklace. It is warm from Harry’s skin and Louis tangles it a little around his index finger. He steps closer.

“You terrify me, Harry Styles.”

“Good.” Harry says, and leans down to kiss him. Harry’s lips are warm against Louis’ cold mouth and Louis can’t help but push his head up further, pressing hard into the kiss. Harry’s slips his arms around Louis’ waist and pulls him up, closer. Louis is on his toes, his hand slipping through Harry’s curls. Their eyelashes brush and Louis feels Harry smiling as they kiss. His own lips curve into a grin and they pull apart a little.

“Thankyou for waiting.” Louis says, nudging Harry’s nose with his own.

“You’re worth it.” Harry says, and nibbles gently on Louis’ lower lip. He moans at the slight sting.

“So what now, Louis says,  kissing gently along Harry’s jawbone.

“Now I think we go to sleep, because I don’t know about you, but I’m bloody knackered.”

Louis laughs and untangles himself from Harry’s embrace. Harry whines a little at the loss of contact, and knots their fingers together. Louis opens his chest of drawers one handed and digs through his clothes until he finds something that will fit Harry.

“My sister got me this, but it was too big.” Harry drops his hand to take the bundle, and laughs when he realises what it is.

“A spiderman onesie? Your sister has good taste.” He throws it over his shoulder and heads for the door. Louis frowns.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to change in the bathroom. You really think you get to see me naked already? No chance, I need to be wined and dined first.” He smiles wickedly and slips out of the door. Louis can’t wipe the grin off his face as he undresses himself and pulls on his own flannel pyjamas and t-shirt. When Harry returns he smells fresh and minty.

“Did you use my toothbrush?” Louis asks, mock indignant.

“Yup. It has dinosaurs on it.”

Louis laughs and kisses him softly, before going to brush his own teeth and wash his face. When he comes back Harry is already in bed, lying on his side half under the covers. Louis watches him for a few seconds, saying nothing.

“What you looking at?” Harry says, wrinkling his nose.

“Nothing.” Louis says, and switches off the light. He feels his way slowly over to the bed and slips in next to Harry. Harry’s hands find him immediately and pull him close, their bodies pressed tight together. Louis relaxes into the embrace, feeling the flood of warmth from Harry’s torso into his own. He can’t describe the feeling, the incredible peacefulness of having Harry so close, so intimate. Even in the dark he feels like Harry is glowing gold, lighting up the spaces between Louis’ bones.

“Thankyou for waiting.” He says again, quieter this time. Harry pulls him closer and kisses the back of his head. Harry shuts his eyes, letting his mind drift into nothing until he feels the familiar pull of sleep. He is about to drift off when Louis speaks again, as soft and low as a whisper.

“It’s like being seen for the first time.”

Harry smiles and his dreams take him. He sleeps better than he has his whole life.

Chapter Text

CH9: The One Where The Fuse Is Lit And Louis Is Full Of Fire

They don’t stir until the afternoon. Harry wakes first and lazily pushes back against Louis, whose body is wrapped tightly around his. Louis’ moans sleepily and tightens his grip.

“It’s 2 o’clock.”

“Is it?” Louis asks blearily, rolling over onto his side of the bed and rubbing his eyes.

“We should get up.”

“Don’t wanna.” Louis replies childishly, throwing the duvet over his head. Harry laughs and rolls over to snuggle up beside him.

“So… I just slept in your bed.”

“You certainly did.” Louis feels warm and content, giddy at the closeness of Harry’s body. Their legs tangle together. “Your feet are cold, Harold.”

“Sorry.” Harry replies, not sounding sorry at all. Louis is struck by just how normal it feels to have Harry Styles in his bed, cuddling up close to him.

In the end it’s Harry who falls back to sleep, his slow breathing and occasional snores mingling with the sound of the traffic below. Louis creeps out of bed and goes to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth before returning to the bedroom. In his absence Eddie and Fox have taken the opportunity to jump up on his bed and inspect Harry. Eddie curls up by Harry’s head and Fox paws gently at his shoulder. Louis opens his dresser drawer and grabs his camera, adjusting the focus slightly before snapping a picture. Harry shifts a little, his eyes bleary.

“You’re a bit of a pussy magnet, Styles.” Louis jokes, sitting at the edge of the bed and picking up Fox. Harry rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and sits up. “Eddie’s behind you. I think he wants to say hello.”

Harry turns and scoops up the little cat into his lap, stroking it softly. A kitten holding a kitten. It’s too much for one man to handle.

Louis grabs his phone from the bedside table as a distraction from the  bizarre scene unfolding in front of him. He has a few texts from Zayn and a couple of emails he’ll look at later. Nothing else seems to matter when there’s a sleepy looking Harry in his bed. Cuddling a kitten. Kitten on his chest. Jesus H. Christ.

He opens his conversation with Zayn.

“Ah, apparently we have plans tonight.”

Harry cocks his eyebrow. “We do?” His voice is a little croaky.

“Liam’s making dinner. Zayn says Niall can’t go so it’s uh- a double date.” He cringes and Harry chuckles.

“Our first date.”

“What was last night then?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. A harmless sleepover, I suppose. Although you did manage to get me out of my clothes pretty quick.”

“I don’t suppose the others will buy that nothing happened?”

“No chance. I expect Niall text Zayn the minute he handed me that key.”

“We’ll have to face the music then.”

“I guess we will.”

Neither of them look particularly phased by this.

-

It’s 3:30 by the time Harry and Louis have taken turns showering and they only have a few hours to kill before they have to be at Liam’s.

“I was thinking...” Harry says to Louis, who is sprawled out against him on the sofa “that tonight doesn’t have to be our first date.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well-” He checks his watch “We have 3 hours until we have to be at Liam’s. Why don’t we get a few dates out of the way first?”

Louis’ eyes shine.

“I think I like your style, Styles. So- where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise. Get your coat.”

“I’ve pulled?”

“If you’re lucky.”

-

They go for coffee first. And second. And third. They try Starbucks first, and sip their espressos quickly. Then dart across the road for hot chocolates at Costa. When they settle into a booth at a little tea-room Harry asks the obligatory first date questions, where did you grow up? What are your hobbies? And Louis lets himself be charmed.

“So where do you work?”

“Harry you know where I work.”

“So where do you work?” Harry repeats, more firmly. Louis rolls his eyes and takes a sip of the earl grey that the little old lady had just set down in front of him.

“I work at Cole’s Performing Arts Academy.”

“Ooh, fancy. And what do you do there then, Lewis? Are you the receptionist?”

“I’m a teacher actually Harold.”

“Shame. I can imagine you in stockings and a short skirt.” The wicked glint in Harry’s eye is enough to make his dick twitch under the table. The little old woman smiles over at him warmly and he gulps, hand instinctively going to cover his lap.

“Behave yourself Harry. This is only our third date, don’t get any ideas.”

“You don’t put out on the third date?” Harry asks, mock incredulous. “Not even a kiss?”

“Not even a kiss. Not until date number six at least.”

“Crikey. Well hurry up and finish your tea. We have two more dates to fit in before 7:30.”

-

By the time they arrive at Liam’s their lips are suspiciously red and puffy. They’d gone for a quick drink at a little bar near the station, and then picked a film at random and bought tickets. They’d had their pick of seats as there were only a handful of people in the cinema. Harry took Louis’ hand and dragged him to the very back corner.

“Harry Styles, I hope you’re not going to try and take advantage, because I just won’t stand for it.”

“The very notion! I just think the acoustics will be better back here, that’s all.” He grins and feed Louis a piece of popcorn. After that Harry makes a show of behaving like the perfect gentleman, holding the snacks tilted towards Louis and displaying a keen interest in the screen, an impressive feat considering they’d somehow chosen a documentary about freight-trains. Louis grabs a handful of popcorn and whispers Harry’s name.

“What- oi!” Harry raises his voice slightly above a whisper when Louis dumps popcorn over his head.

“You cheeky bastard!” Harry sets the popcorn down on the floor and shakes out his hair. “Did I get it all?”

“Almost.” Louis cradles Harry’s chin and picks out a small piece from his fringe. He swallows as he realises how close their faces are. Half of Harry’s face is in darkness, the other is illuminated slightly by the screen. He runs his tongue slowly over his bottle lip and leans towards Louis. They kiss slowly, effortlessly, both feeling braver in the gloom. Harry opens his mouth wider and Louis tastes salt and mint and tea. Then their tongues meet for the first time and a shiver of electricity runs down Louis’ spine and his hand knots in Harry’s hair. He can’t remember the last time a kiss made him feel quite like this. It’s so intense, so full of intent and passion that he almost forgets they’re out in public. It is leading them somewhere and keeping them static all at once. He is rooted in place and somehow also hurtling through space. He feels dizzy with it. There’s something about having Harry this close that fills him up with fire, and that’s both terrifying and amazing all at once. Harry’s hand is on his knee and all Louis can think of is how long his fingers are, how amazing they would feel wrapped around his shaft or gently prying into him. He pulls away from the kiss when he realises he’s getting hard. His gaze flicks back to Harry, whose eyes are shining, and Louis reads confusion in his face.

“Sorry I just-” He looks down involuntarily at his crotch and then flushes deeply. He’s immensely grateful for the darkness. Harry’s eyes crease and then widen as he realises. He smiles bites his lip and Louis can’t decide whether he wants to marry or murder him.

Shit shit shit.

But Harry doesn’t look phased, he just grins at Louis and takes his hand. After a few moments he leans over to whisper in Louis’ ear.

“Shall we ditch the movie and go get ice cream?”

Louis nods.

Marry him, definitely marry him.

They’re a little early for Liam’s, and when they knock on the door it’s Zayn who answers. Wearing an apron. Louis wonders for a moment if Zayn has been taken over by robots, Stepford Wives style.

“Alright boys, come in. Liam’s just upstairs getting changed.” He grins at them and welcomes them inside, taking their coats when they shrug them off. Louis has a lot of questions, but he knows to save them for a time when he and Zayn are alone. He grabs them each a glass of wine, red for Louis, white for Harry, and leads them from the kitchen to a separate dining room. It’s cleanly decorated, with white walls and light wood floors. The dining table is long and beautifully detailed, flanked by gorgeous black chairs. It looks like something from one of Zayn’s lifestyle magazines and Louis hums in appreciation. The lights are dimmed and there are candles around the room and shadows dance on the walls.

“Wow, this is gorgeous.” Harry compliments, and Zayn lights up like it’s his dining room they’re standing in. Louis notices that the apron is decorated with little sunflowers. He almost bursts into laughter at the bizarreness of the scene. Louis had seen Zayn in all kinds of compromising positions, rutting against strangers in clubs, being violently sick out of a bus window after drinking absinthe on a dare, dangling off balconies at parties. But sunflower aprons with yellow trim…not in his wildest dreams.

“Liam designed it.” Louis snaps back to reality, realising that Zayn is gushing about the room. “He’s amazing. You should see his bedroom.” There’s something about the way that Zayn says ‘amazing’ that catches Louis, and he suspects that he’s not just talking about Liam’s eye for design.

“Jesus, at least let us finish our drinks before trying to get us into the boudoir, Malik.” Louis jokes and Harry’s laugh echoes around the room. Harry’s proximity helps to calm Louis’ building anxiety at his best friend’s seemingly total transformation from troubled rock god in the making to domestic god and 1950s housewife.

“Ha bloody ha.” But Zayn’s eyes are warm and contented. Louis realises that he hasn’t seen him this happy in a very long time. Regardless of the unsettling change in Zayn, he thanks God for Liam Payne. And Harry Styles too. He’s also grateful that Zayn’s too caught up in Liam’s world to interrogate Harry and Louis, who are standing with their hands brushing together right in front of him. He knows that the minute Zayn gets Louis alone he’ll practically strap him down and demand answers. But for now he’s grateful for the peace. Since he and Harry haven’t even had a chance to properly (and soberly) discuss the status of their friendship it’s a relief not to have to awkwardly outline it to anyone else.

They take their seats at the table and chat for a few minutes before Liam comes in. He greets them warmly, squeezing Louis’ shoulder gently and asking Harry about work. Louis decides he likes Liam rather a lot. He tells them that dinner won’t be long.

“Zayn’s done most of the work to be honest, I had no idea he could cook.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Louis says, squinting accusingly at his friend. “You’ve never made me more than a plate of scrambled eggs.” Louis thinks about the infamous ‘pube in the egg’ incident, and bites his lip to keep from laughing.

“That’s cos you didn’t deserve it, Lewis.” And shoots Louis a look that to the untrained eye would look playful, but as a best friend Louis knows to mean one thing and one thing only; ‘if you so much as think about mentioning pubic hair I will destroy you and dance on your grave’.

Louis sticks out his tongue at him. He’s feeling a little light headed and tingly from the wine and Harry’s presence so close at his side certainly isn’t helping. As if reading his mind Harry runs his index finger along the seam of Louis’ trousers, up his thigh and then down to his knee again. He splutters into his wine.

“You alright?” Liam asks, looking over from where he’s just set down the food.

“Mmhmm.” Louis nods, teeth gritting. Harry grins wickedly and clamps his huge palm over Louis’ thigh.

Dinner is delicious and Zayn practically glows at Liam’s constant compliments. Even when Louis mouths the word ‘pube’ at him from across the table he only gives him a gentle kick in the shins. In any other scenario Louis would make fun of Zayn’s ridiculous heart eyes at Louis but since Harry’s hand on his leg is practically giving him heart palpitations, he figures he’s not in any position to judge.

They’re just finishing dessert, strawberry sorbet, when Liam clears his throat and says they’ve got some news.

“Zayn’s pregnant? Not again. I told you I won’t raise any more of your bastard offspring.”

“Not this time Tommo.” Zayn grins, setting down his spoon. “Much more exciting, actually.” He clears his throat. “We’re almost done recording my EP, and we’re releasing it next month.”

“No way! Zayn that’s bloody incredible.” Louis’ heart swells with pride and he beams at Zayn and Liam across the table.

“Yeah man, that’s amazing news. Well done.” Harry says.

“Thanks guys. Couldn’t have done it without Li, here. You should have seen me on my first day in the studio, shaking like a leaf.”

“He’s exaggerating, he was incredible. A complete natural.”

“Oh as if, I was pissing it.”

“Well it didn’t show. The songs sound amazing.” They are staring at each other like they’re the only two people on the planet. Louis coughs gently and they look up, a little startled. Zayn looks likea  deer in the headlights. If deers could have silver hoops in their ears and tattoos of rattlesnakes, that is.

“Hey, why don’t I play some now?”

“Oh my god, no!” Zayn protests, but Liam is already standing up in his chair. He heads out to the kitchen and comes back a moment later with his phone.

“Sorry about the quality, Jack’s taken my laptop with him to his mum’s.” He scrolls for a few seconds before connecting the phone to a speaker dock in the corner and pressing play. There are a few seconds of silence before the room is filled with the slow plucking of a guitar, and then Zayn’s voice, low and soulful, aching with something Louis has never heard before. Zayn hides his face in his hands as the song plays, but he doesn’t make any effort to stop it. Nobody speaks. Louis heart is hovering somewhere in his throat. He’s always known Zayn was talented but this…it’s unlike anything that Louis has ever heard him play. He’s raw in a way that he’s never been before.

When it’s finished the room is still and silent for a few moments.

It’s Harry who speaks first. “Wow. Zayn that was beautiful, like, fuck.”

Louis nods in agreement, still a little stunned.

“How come I’ve never heard that song before?”

“It’s new. Liam helped me write it actually.”

“Barely, Zayn. You did most of it.” Liam shakes his head and starts to gather up the empty bowls and Louis is about to make a joke when he catches sight of Zayn’s face. His eyes are locked on Liam, who is totally oblivious as he tidies up, and his face is full of pure longing. It isn’t even lust; Louis knows pure desire when he sees it, especially on Zayn’s face. They’ve been out clubbing together more than enough times for Louis to know desire on his best friend’s face. This is more, this is fondness and admiration. It’s love.

And Louis knows that this is either very good or very bad.

They have another glass of wine, because why not, whilst Liam tells them all about his job. Zayn continues to act as if Liam is the only person in the whole universe, which worries Louis a little bit, but Harry’s hand tightening on his knee under the table takes up most of his attention. Harry’s thumb rubs in little circles and Louis has to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself grinning like an idiot. Eventually a yawn ripples around the table, and it’s time to go. Harry goes to use the bathroom whilst Liam calls Jack to say goodnight and it’s only Louis and Zayn left in the dining room.

“So.” Louis broaches.

“So?”

“So what’s going on here? What’s the deal with you and Liam? I thought you two were just fooling around. I didn’t think this was serious.”

“We are. It’s not. It’s just casual, man. It’s whatever.”

“It doesn’t look like whatever. It looks like you’re getting feelings.”

Zayn scoffs.

“I am not. You know me, Lou, I don’t do the whole feelings thing. It’s just fun, you know me.”

“Yeah I do know you, and I know that I’ve not seen you look at a bloke like that since…well ever.”

“Oh give over, we’re just mates. I look at him same I look at you.”

“I hope not, or this friendship’s over.”

“Oh like you can talk, over there making heart eyes at your boy.”

“He’s not my boy. And it’s totally different. We’ve not even-”

Harry clears his throat from the doorway and they both glance up.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, Haz.” Zayn says, shooting a meaningful look at Louis. “He’s all yours.”

Louis frowns, but keeps quiet. Liam comes back a moment later, pocketing his phone, and they all walk out into the hall. Harry grabs Louis’ jacket before he has a chance, and helps him shrug it on. Louis avoids looking anywhere near Zayn, but he can feel the smugness radiating from him. They thank Liam again and walk out together into the darkness.

The sky is clear and the air is cold, and Harry’s breath fogs slightly in front of his face as they walk in silence. Louis rubs his palms together, then flinches slightly when Harry reaches out to take his hand. The roads are empty and the sky is peppered with stars. They pass a couple huddled together at a bus stop, hands entwined and bodies pressed close together. He grips Harry’s hand a little tighter as they walk, enjoying its broadness, the long fingers so at odds with his small digits. He thinks he’s never felt like this before, never felt so hopelessly gone for someone he’s only known for a couple of months. Behind them, illuminated by the streetlight, the couple at the bus stop step forwards to watch them go.

“So, they're together.” Clara says, stroking Archie’s hand gently.

“See? It all worked out just fine. I don’t know why you were so worried. Like I said all along, made for each other.” Clara laughs and punches him playfully on the arm.

“Made for each other.” She says quietly, not quite in agreement.

“So, everything’s sorted then yeah? I guess they won't need us anymore." He says, turning his face to hers with a grin. His expression clears when she doesn't return his smile. "What's the matter Clara?" 

“It's…I don’t know. I just have a feeling, and it’s…it’s like it’s not finished. Not yet. There’s still…there’s still more. I can’t work it out yet, it’s hazy. But there’s more.”

She grips his hand tighter and they disappear together into the light.

Half a mile ahead and Louis is thinking about this evening, thinking about Harry. He thinks that he should care that Harry is so much younger, so much more in love with life that he is. He thinks a million things as they walk in contented quiet, and then before he can answer any of his own questions they are at Louis’ flat and it’s like they both knew they’d be sleeping side by side again without having to utter a word. They don’t speak in the elevator, or in the corridor. It’s only when Louis’ has locked the door and turned around to find Harry right behind him that he speaks.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

And Harry’s face dips down to kiss a constellation on Louis’ neck and Louis wonders if somehow the first time he’s been touched, because it feels like it. Harry’s hands go around his waist and he pulls them together before kissing Louis, softly at first and then with an urgency, as though they’re meeting for the first and last time. Without breaking their lips apart Louis pushes forward, then stumbles backwards into the lounge, dropping backwards onto the cream loveseat in front of the television. A cat jumps off the arm but neither notice. Harry falls on top of Louis and giggles slightly, their lips still attached. He pulls his jacket off and then helps Louis with his. It’s awkward and adorable and Harry’s heart swells with how incredible Louis looks underneath him. Small and vulnerable but also powerful, like he could ask Harry to walk through fire and he’d do it.

He slides one hand underneath Louis’ shirt and Louis moans and licks into Harry’s mouth. They make out in this fashion for an impressive half an hour, their touches become more daring as they explore each other over their clothes. It’s only when Eddie jumps up next to them and nudges Louis with his head that they pull apart. Harry’s lips look even more deliciously plump than usual. Louis wriggles out from underneath him, running a hand through his messed up hair as he goes to fill the bowl with catfood. The other felines come running when they hear the familiar rustle of the bag.

“Who’s the pussy magnet now, babe?”

Babe. Louis tries not to think about that too much. After all, Harry calls everyone affectionate pet names. Never babe, though. He grins at Harry, praying that his inner turmoil isn’t too obvious.

“You know me, bit of a sex kitten myself.”

Harry laughs loudly and genuinely, which is becoming a bit of a habit now, something which will do terrible things to Louis’ ego if he keeps it up. He follows the laugh with a yawn, stretching his arms up over his head.

“You sleepy?”

“No.” Harry lies, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “Well maybe a little. Wanna keep kissing you though. S’fun”

“Another time. Let’s get you into something a little more comfortable.”

“You sauce pot.” Harry says, stepping out of his shoes and padding over to Louis. He bends down to nuzzle into his shoulder, moaning sleepily.

“Come on, sleepy head, let’s get to bed.”

“I like sleeping over with you.”

Louis helps him out of his jeans and top and into the onesie from the night before.

“You should keep that. It’s way too big for me.”

“I can’t keep it, not if it was a present. I’ll just wear it whenever I sleep over.”

It’s an innocent enough comment but it sticks in Louis’ mind as he pulls on his own pyjamas. He envies the way that Harry can just say whatever comes to mind without having to stress out about it, worrying about how he’s coming across.

That beautiful, effortless bastard.

They go to brush their teeth, Louis digging out a fresh brush for Harry. They stand side by side and watch each other in the mirror as they brush. Louis leans down to spit first, and Harry follows a second later. They grin at each other in the mirror like fools and Harry takes Louis’ hand and leads him back to the bedroom. They climb into bed and face each other, half under the duvet.

“So…” Harry says and Louis thinks he understand.

“So…” He repeats.

“Are we…”

“Sort of.”

“Is it…”

“Yeah.”

“Are you…”

“Not if you aren’t.”

Harry shakes his head and Louis smiles at the gorgeous simplicity of it.

He turns off the light and snuggles against Harry, his sort of special someone. They both drift off to sleep.

They spend Sunday together too, lazing on the sofa in their pyjamas watching movies on the television. Harry marvels at the way that Louis just fits against him so naturally, like they were made for this. Not that he would ever say that aloud. Not when things are going so perfect. Not when they’re still so delicate. Harry lets Louis shower first and then goes in himself. He loves the whole of Louis’ smart grown-up flat, but he thinks that the bathroom is his favourite room.

The shower is huge and the water comes straight down from above life a waterfall. The bath is a gorgeous ivory, wide and deep. He imagines what it would be like to have a bath with Louis in there, spreading his legs so Louis could sit in front of him, shampooing his hair for him, reaching down under the water and- he shakes himself, his cock already stiffening as he climbs into the shower. He thinks about football to try and cool down but all he can see is Louis in his little shorts and that definitely doesn’t help. He washes his hair slowly, enjoying the heat and pressure of the water. He turns on the shower radio and hums along. If he were back and his own flat he would sing, but he’s still too scared around Louis, especially now he knows that Louis has such a gorgeous voice.

He thinks about the day he heard Louis sing for the first time in the theatre, the way his eyes shined as he sang the first few notes, the way his voice ached with something. It had given Harry goosebumps. That was the same day they got locked in the closet together, and they had almost kissed. Bloody Niall, mood killer extraordinaire. He’d been so angry, so scared that they’d missed their chance. He smiles to himself as he rinses out his hair. Louis was his now- well, sort of. And that was pretty much the best thing in the world.

He turns off the shower and steps out, grabbing a huge fluffy towel and wrapping it around himself. He walks into Louis’ bedroom and is surprised to see him still similarly clothed, lying on his bed with wearing only a pair of boxers whilst he scrolls on his phone. He tries to think of something funny to say. Something clever. Something, anything. But his head is empty save for the dull thud of his heart which is pumping in his ears.

Harry has paused in the door, his face reddening. Louis’ body is still shining with moisture, and his wet hair is pushed back from his face and Harry thinks his body is the most perfect thing he’s ever seen, from the sharp cut of his collarbones to the very slight softness at his middle. He stares. Louis looks up then and his eyes sharpen slightly as he takes Harry in. He’s seen him undress before, but only ever in the darkness, never anything like this. He sees Harry’s tattoos clearly for the first time, the Hebrew word on his left arm, the little A, the rose, the cross, the padlock. And Louis wants to see them closer, and for once he isn’t frightened of rejection. He stands up and slowly walks towards Harry, who is staring at him from the doorway. He stops about a foot from him and neither of them move. Slowly Louis lifts a finger and traces the star on the inside of Harry’s arm, moving across to his chest and stroking the wings of the butterfly. Harry tenses and Louis can see his nipples hardening. Louis licks his lips and his other hand curls around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer and they kiss, slowly at first and then harder, faster and Harry’s hands are in Louis’ hair and his teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and this is the first time they’ve ever touched each other with this much intention. They stumble backwards onto the bed, Harry on top of Louis and Louis can feel his hardness through the towel and he knows that he’s already stiff beneath his boxer shorts because it’s Harry and Harry does this to him. Louis breaks the kiss and reaches down to pull the towel away and Harry gasps as he wraps his fingers around his cock and drags his hand upwards slowly.

“Oh god Lou- that’s- that’s so- oh god.” And Louis wants to smile because Harry’s moaning like a porn star but he can’t because everything feels so serious, so important and then all at once they’re pressed together and Harry is on top of him and he thinks he will explode with longing. He takes his hand away from Harry’s dick and pushes him back so he is beneath him. He crawls down the bed until his head is right by Harry’s cock, which is hard and flat to his stomach and he looks into Harry’s eyes and sees that they are full of fire. He grabs Harry at the base and licks a slow stripe up the underside of his dick, keeping their eyes locked together. Harry moans and grasps the duvet in his hands. Louis parts his lips wider and sucks the tip of Harry’s cock, his lips smacking wetly as he pulls them off. Harry shudders and Louis starts to suck, taking it into his mouth halfway and sucking upwards.

“Won’t last, Lou, urghh. You’re so good.” Harry moans, his stomach muscles tensing as he lifts his neck to look down at Louis’ mouth on him. Louis’ head bobs up and down fast, his tongue swirling, eyes watering. Harry shouts as he comes and Louis can taste him on his tongue. He swallows, sucking gently until Harry leans back with a sigh. He pulls himself up, wiping his mouth with one hand, and crawls up the bed to lie on top of Harry.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Harry replies breathlessly, his arms wrapping around Louis. He kisses him on the forehead when Louis nuzzles into his neck. Harry’s eyes stay shut, delicious after-shocks pulsing through him. In a few moments he’ll roll over and pin Louis down before giving him the best blowjob he’s ever had. But for now he’s just content to lie still, listening to the giddy hammering of his heart.

Chapter Text

 CH10:The One Where Things Have To Fall Apart First

None of the others seem particularly surprised by the new developments in Harry and Louis’ friendship. When they start kissing each other ‘hello’ in the staff room Niall just gives them both a small congratulatory smile, but doesn’t say anything. When Zayn comes round one evening with pizza and beer he is only slightly surprised when Harry answers the door wearing one of Louis’ old school hoodies. Truth is, it just seems to work. It makes a sort of sense that neither Harry or Louis have ever really experienced before, though neither will articulate it out loud for fear of breaking whatever is building between them. They spend whatever time they can together at work, sneaking hurried kisses in empty corridors and Louis’ office. When Harry helps in Louis’ theatre classes they have to at least pretend to be professional, but they can’t help but sneak secret smiles when they’re sure nobody else is looking.

March soon turns to April and brings the busiest week of the year, the seven days before the Easter break. Louis has a stack of coursework as high as his knee to mark, as well as double checking that everything is done for the Spring performance of Othello. Though it’s technically supposed to be organised by the Seniors alone, Louis always somehow seems to get tangled up in it. Last year he had to save the day last minute by rewriting Grease into a tragedy after the two leads had a messy break-up before rehearsals had even begun. This year he’s helping with stage design, and he’s managed to rope in Zayn to help paint the set.

“You definitely owe me for this mate.”

“Oh like you had anything better to do on a Friday night, it’ll keep your mind off Liam anyway. When’s he back, anyway?”

“Not for another two weeks.” Zayn huffs, paintbrush in hand.

“Your fault for going out with such a high flier.”

“We’re not going out. We’re just-” Zayn searches for the word.

“Fucking.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue.

“And what about you and-” Zayn looks around slyly to check that they’re alone “Harry? What’s news?”

Louis shrugs, his face relaxed.

“Nothing to tell. We’re just hanging out, seeing how things go.”

“And you’re happy with that?”

Louis eyes crinkle a little as he smiles.

“It is what it is.”

Zayn is about to speak again when the door to the left of the stage flies open and Harry charges clumsily through it, arm full of boxes and fabric.

“I couldn’t find anything to cover the projector, unless you want to dye this to match each backdrop?” Harry’s dropped the boxes and is holding up a reel of plain white fabric.

“Thanks Haz, we’ll sort something out.”

Harry smiles an exhausted smile and sits down heavily on the floor. He’s been working flat out, picking up extra hours wherever he can find them. It’s not that he needs the money it’s just that Niall works so much that he’s never at the flat and Louis doesn’t’ finish until 7 most nights and going back to the flat alone is never the most appealing prospect, especially after a day exchanging flirtateous looks with Louis Tomlinson. With his extra hours the two finish roughly at the same time, and walk to Louis car together, fingers twisted loosely together. The night before Harry had sat in the armchair in the corner of Louis’ office reading for 40 minutes waiting for him to finish marking.

“You don’t have to wait babe.” The nickname was new and still made Harry’s stomach do a little somersault whenever he heard it.

“I know. Want to.”

Louis had just shook his head and gone back to marking, but he couldn’t help but smile. When he’d finished at 8 o’clock Harry was dozing off and he’d leaned in and whispered quietly in his ear to wake him.

“Home time.” Harry had opened one eye sleepily and reached instinctively for Louis. They walked hand in hand out of the building and into the carpark. They’d spent almost every night that week at Louis’ flat, draped over each other on the sofa eating pizza, too exhausted to do more that kiss each other sleepily. Some nights Harry slept over, but he always woke early and kisses Louis’ forehead gently before leaving quietly and walking home. Louis never asked him why he didn’t stay longer, it didn’t seem to matter. That morning Louis had woken briefly when Harry’s lips pressed against his temple, but he’d drifted back to sleep almost immediately, before being woken properly an hour later by his alarm.

“What are you up to tonight Haz?” Zayn asks, dropping his paintbrush in a jar of water and stepping back to admire his masterpiece.

“Err, not sure.” He shoots a look at Louis and Louis grins. “Might just have a quiet one.”

Zayn looks between them, his eyebrow raising.

“Oh I see.” He shakes his head and grins, muttering something about disgusting romantics. Louis pretends not to hear him.

Fifteen minutes later and Zayn checks his watch and calls it a night.

“What, do you have a skype date with Li Li or something?” Louis teases, not anticipating the flood of colour to Zayn’s cheeks. He woops with laughter. “You do! That’s amazing.”

“Oh shut up.” He grabs his jacket and slaps Harry’s hand goodbye. He shoves Louis playfully. “See ya. Behave yourselves.” He shoots them both a look before shrugging on his leather jacket and pushing his way out of the doors. There is a comfortable silence between Louis and Harry. Louis clears his throat and pretends to organise the paintbrushes on the small table in front of him. He is acutely aware of Harry’s green eyes locked on him. Neither of them speak for a few minutes, and then Harry heaves himself to his feet and walks over to Louis. He comes up close behind him and stretches his arms round Louis’ waist, his head bent down so he can kiss his neck. Louis shudders and relaxes back into the younger man’s arms. Louis twists his head around so that Harry can press his lips to his jawline.

“Home?” Louis murmurs.

Harry grunts in agreement and nips at Louis’ neck before pulling away and going over to grab his bag and jacket from the seats at the front of the theatre. They walk to the car, bodies close together, hands bumping but never linking together. Louis imagines he can feel the heat radiating from the body next to his, the steady drumming of Harry’s heart in his chest, the flickering of his pulse in his wrist. But that’s impossible surely? Utterly impossible. He swallows the thought and unlocks the car.

And thus begins the most blissful month of Louis’ life thus far. Harry and Louis become HarryandLouis and suddenly everything is an activity for two. They cook together (Harry doing most of the work and Louis nibbling on ingredients), shower together (Harry shampoos Louis and then rinses out the suds for him, massaging his scalp gently before turning around so Louis can do his hair), and sleep so close together that Louis feels like there's no part of him unconnected to Harry.

They learn each other’s bodies by heart, and as Louis traces the small scar on Harry’s hip he thinks that touching Harry is like learning a new language. He knows just where to press his hands to make Harry tense, or where to put his lips when he wants Harry to cry out. He can elicit any word or noise he wants with the simple swipe of a tongue.

It is a rainy Sunday when they fuck for the first time, though it’s more than that. More than sex. It’s fuck in every sense of the word. It’s rough and soft and tender but also desperate. Tiny beads of sweat form between Harry’s shoulder blades as Louis pushes into him for the first time, and despite the slickness of the lube it is slow and tight and deliberate. Louis feels the fire in his core grow and he wonders if he and Harry could just combust into stars at any given moment. Tears prick at the corners of Harry’s eyes, but he keeps his head down at first, unwilling to show Louis that part of himself yet. It's only when Louis thrusts into him again, harder than the first gentle push, that Harry turns, twisting his body almost involuntarily to face behind him. Blue eyes and green (as though seeing each other for the first time).

When they’re finished they lie beside each other, and Louis feels like his body is empty save for his hot red heart which is beating to the rhythm of Harry’s name.

“I want to be your boyfriend.” Harry had whispered later that night when they were cleaned up and lying on the sofa watching a film. Louis had smiled, face lit up by the light of the television.

“You are my boyfriend.” He said simply, not taking his eyes of the screen.

Things were wonderful then, in that moment, and they stayed wonderful for another week. Until the doubts began.

-

The doubts begin on a Tuesday. More specifically, they begin with a bottle of shampoo. Even more specifically than that, they begin with an ex-boyfriend. Louis’ ex-boyfriend Matt to be totally specific.

He’s just in the supermarket carpark, unloading heavy bags into the boot and thinking about Harry at home with a the flu, when he hears his name. He turns and squints around, not being able to see much with his glasses in his jacket pocket rather than on his face. But then he sees a familiar head of blonde hair and realisation sets in.

“Matt! Hey.” Louis says, dropping the last bag into the car and reaching out to give him a quick hug. Louis never knows quite what to do in these situations, but since he and Matt hadn’t ended on particularly bad terms he thinks that a hug isn’t out of the question.

“How are you?” Matt asks, smiling warmly.

“Good, no, yeah. Same old, same old.” He grins back, trying to look as enthused as Matt looks. “How are you?”

“I’m really good. I’m engaged, actually!” Matt holds up his hand and sure enough he’s wearing a gorgeous silver band on his ring finger. Louis grabs it for a closer look.

“Jeez! It’s gorgeous. Who’s the lucky man?”

Matt grins and starts talking a mile a minute about his whirlwind romance with some advertising mogul, or something. Louis tunes out for a few moments until-

“After you I figured I needed to find someone who was actually capable of commitment!” Matt laughs lightly but Louis frowns. Incapable. That's a bit of a strong word... Sure he’d never actually committed but that was because…because…well there had never been…

His brain falters. He clears his throat and tells Matt that he has to be somewhere.

“Congratulations Matt. Honestly, you deserve it, really I wish you the best of luck.” Matt beams and they hug again quickly before he walks away. Louis stands frozen by the open boot for a few moments before he shakes himself back to reality and slams it shut and gets in his car.

He sits still in the driver’s seat for a few seconds, keys in the ignition, car in neutral.

Someone who was actually capable of commitment.

The words stick to him like flies on flypaper, impossible to shake off. He thinks back to Matt…their relationship had started well. Really well Louis had thought. They’d stayed up all night talking, kissed each other, held hands. The usual boyfriend stuff. For three months everything was amazing, and then suddenly the feelings had stopped and Louis didn’t want him anymore. He remembers their break-up clearly.

“This is just what you do, Louis! You fuck people around because you don’t know how to love them. Maybe you’re just meant to be alone.” The words had stung at the time, but he had never given them any serious thought. They were said in the heat of the moment, they weren’t true.

Except maybe they were.

His mind races back through all of his other relationships. Jin-ho, Alex, Pete, Imran. All of them burning bright and then fading instantly into nothing.

And then he thinks of Harry, brightest of all. Is that how this is destined to end?

They’d spent the night before together, as they had for the last couple of months since their first kiss in Louis’ bedroom where the planets had aligned and the stars had come out. Harry had woken unusually early on this Tuesday morning, coughing and sneezing and snuggling closer to Louis in the small warmth of the bed. Louis had woken slightly, only enough to welcome Harry’s body into the angles of his own before drifting back into whatever dream he was having. When he had woken properly Harry was curled up away from him, shivering and sweating. Louis had tucked him up tight and gone straight to the supermarket to get him some supplies. He should be back there already, Harry will be wondering.

Louis starts the car and drives home in a daze.

Harry is sleeping when Louis gets back, and he kisses him gently on the forehead, before going and standing under the spray of the shower until his hands had wrinkled and the water had run cold.

Harry goes back to his own flat that night to recover properly, and Louis for once is grateful to be away from his boyfriend.

The next morning he wakes alone and reaches instinctively for Harry. He feels the cold side of the bed and realisation hits.

The rock in the pit of his stomach is still there, and he considers calling in sick himself, claiming to have caught whatever Harry has.

But then Harry will blame himself. He’ll bring soup and tissues and movies and look after him.

Louis shakes his head at the thought. He needs to figure this out. He wishes he weren’t such a fuck up.

Someone who’s actually capable of commitment.

Louis groans and rolls out of bed and pads towards the bathroom. He starts the shower and allows the room to fill with steam before he peels off his boxers and climbs under the spray. He fiddles with the radio until he finds a song he likes and just stands under the hot rush of water until he feels slightly more awake.

He reaches for his shampoo. He frowns. Instead of the usual pink bottle his hands close around a sleek grey one. He looks up and down the rack, but it isn’t in its usual spot by his conditioner. And, hang on, the conditioners not there either. It’s been moved. He blinks at the rack and realises that everything has been shifted. The loofah that he never uses is hung over the hook under the dial and his mint shower-gel is where the soap should be. A strange uneasiness bubbles in Louis as he locates his shampoo and squeezes some into his palm. He can’t pinpoint the emotion, even when he’s washed the last of his conditioner out of his hair and is turning the water off and stepping out into the cold air. He dries himself slowly, the troubled look never leaving his face.

It’s only when he’s back in the bedroom and is opening the drawer to grab a clean pair of boxers that it hits him. Next to his crumpled pairs of socks and underwear is a line of neatly folded and ironed boxer shorts. Harry’s.

Harry is here. He's a part of his life in a way that nobody has been for as long as he remembers. Even with Matt they didn’t keep things at each other’s houses. There was a line, a very definite line where Louis ended and Matt began. There were no blurred edges, no point where they blended into one. They saw each other, they made conversation, they went out for dinner, they fucked each other in the dark.

Louis’ stomach does an uncomfortable somersault. He dresses quickly and does his hair. When he gets to work he goes straight to his office and shuts the door. He sits down at his desk and sets to marking, managing to get his mind away from Harry for a few hours. And then there is a knock at the door. He looks up as Harry comes in.

“Hey Lou-bear.”

Lou-bear. Something that Harry overheard his mum call him on Skype and picked up. He swallows, and smiles a greeting at Harry. Harry shoots a concerned glances over at Louis and Louis tries to look anywhere but into the green eyes. He looks at the hooks by the door, but Harry’s winter jacket slung over it sends cold chills down his spine. Looking at his computer screen is no better, framed with yellow post-it notes, Harry’s doodles and scribbled handwriting standing out in bright red ink.

Harry comes over and goes to kiss Louis, but Louis turns his head at the last moment and Harry’s lips meet his cheek. He doesn’t look away quickly enough to miss the hurt look in the younger boy’s eyes.

“Sorry Haz, just snowed in with marking. How are you feeling? Bit better?”

Harry grins and nods.

“Yeah, loads better. Think it was a 24 hour thing or something.” He looks hard at Louis again. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Actually now you mention it I do feel a bit off. I might go and see if the nurse has anything.” He stands up abruptly and walks to the door. Harry follows.

“I’ll see you later.” He says to Harry, who looks bemused.

“Yeah, later. I’m cooking you dinner.” Harry’s face lights up with the words. With a sinking feeling Louis realises that Harry has already promised to make him dinner tonight. How many times is this now? He wonders when the last time he cooked for himself was, the last time he went home and Harry wasn’t with him. Things had been so much simpler then. Maybe a little boring, a little lonely, a little blander at dinner time. But they’d been safer, there had been no curly haired boy to make him feel like he was flying, no person who he needed, who he couldn’t imagine being without.

He walks all the way to the nurses office before turning around without even going in. She definitely won’t have anything in her box of tricks to cure this feeling. Instead he goes to the theatre and sits down in the front row in silence, his head in his hands. He feels sick with nerves, sick with uncertainty, sick with the sudden weight of everything. How had things gone from so easy and natural to so bloody confusing? His breath catches in his throat and he pulls out his phone, shooting a text to Zayn.

Freaking out about H. Total panic. Help. Help.

He looks up when he hears the door swing open and the sound engineer walks in whistling. Dan is a kind man in his late 40s, and has been the sound engineer at Cole’s since before Louis arrived. He is jolly and talkative and provides a welcome distraction for Louis, who offers to help him set up for the next period. He focuses all of his attention on the mess of wires and lights in front of him as Dan explains what everything does and how it works. His head is soon ringing with words he’s not sure he totally understands, and his notebook is scribbled with garbled instructions that he’ll leave for the next teacher to unscramble. As he leaves he calls a thanks to Dan (although technically he was the one who had been doing the favour) and pulls out his phone to a new message from Zayn.

Why do u always do this when things get serious? Dw, we’ll sort it. At the studio 2day, but we can meet up tomoz? Or tonite if it’s desperate but meant 2 be seeing Li. Text me back and try not to panic. You like H. Breathe. Z  x

Why do u always do this when things get serious?

And that’s it, of course. Things are getting serious, and it soon it will be sink or swim, fall or fly. He wants to run, he wants to get so far away from himself it scares him a little.

When Harry knocks on the door at the end of the day Louis’ head is ringing with panic. He grabs an armful of the marking still left to do and grins tightly at Harry before marching out his office and down the stairs, not sparing a single look at Harry.

As Louis is pulling out of the carpark and onto the main road Harry pulls something out of his bag and starts to fiddle with the CD player. He ejects Louis’ copy of the Bridget Jones' soundtrack and slots a CD into the machine. There is a slight whir and click as it begins to spin, and then the first song plays, and Louis’ brain feels around blindly for a second before placing the song. And his stomach clenches and he realises that he is utterly, utterly screwed.

We might kiss - when we are alone. When nobody’s watching – we might take it home. We might make out – when nobody’s there. It’s not that we’re scared – it’s just that it’s delicate.

He grips the steering wheel and screams internally. Delicate by Damien Rice. The song that had been playing in the pub the first time they had met. Louis had almost forgotten that detail, filed right at the bottom of the box in his mind marked with an H. He wants to cry, he wants to curl up on his own and watch movies. Surely heartbreak is preferable to this? To this ache, this need, this thing that curls around his chest and makes him so vulnerable. So delicate.

And Harry’s delicate, too.

Harry deserves someone who can hold him without leaving cracks. How had he not realised until now what had been happening, what he had been starting to feel for the stupid lanky boy in the passenger seat beside him? Panic rises in him like bile and he almost chokes. Before he knows what he’s doing he’s pulled the car over roughly outside of a crumbling wreck of a church.

“Lou?” Harry turns to him, eyes wide with worry, voice insistent. But Louis doesn’t respond. His head is dropped onto the steering wheel and he is trying to remember how to breathe.

Harry’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, gently but firmly enough. Louis heart lurches. He feels out of his depth, so full of want- no, not want, need- so full of need for the person beside him that he thinks he might have a panic attack right there and then. This was not supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. Louis Tomlinson does not do dependency, he doesn’t do love. Not like this, never like this. It wasn’t for this that he’d steeled his heart against love, against caring about other people more than was safe. Louis loves things at arms-length, he loves things that he can control. He never throws himself so far into the deep like this, Louis Tomlinson risks drowning for nobody. And yet here he is, ready to step off the edge and into the storm that is Harry Styles.

I can’t, he thinks. I can’t.

“Louis? Louis talk to me? Are you ill? Do you need me to drive, babe?”

Louis swallows and looks up, face pale and eyebrows locked together.

“I can’t.” Louis says in a small voice. It sounds like a question and an apology all at once.

“Hey, don’t worry. Scoot over here and I’ll come round.” 

He doesn't understand.

“No, not that. Harry I can’t do this. With you. I’m sorry but I just…it scares me too much.”

There is a thick silence for a few seconds. Harry’s expression is unreadable. His mouth set in a line, his eyes fixed on Louis’. Louis feels sick, his heart hurts.

“So what now? Is this over?” He says the last word with a trace of panic. Louis hears it and feels sick. This isn’t right, he doesn’t feel better. If he thought he was drowning before then it’s nothing, nothing, compared to the weight of water that’s just descended over him. And shit, he needs to say something, he needs to undo this so badly.

And then Harry’s lower lip wobbles and Louis’ world lurches in front of him. He starts to reach out to Harry, instinct taking over, but Harry pushes his hand away roughly. He pulls off his seatbelt, yanks open the door and gets out of the car. In the gloom of the evening Louis watches him walk quickly down the road towards the church. Louis sits still for a few painful seconds. And then he unbuckles his own belt and turns off the car. The song cuts off abruptly. And then he’s off down the road after Harry.

“Harry, Harry wait.” He has to jog to catch him up. He tries to grab Harry’s arm and turn him towards him, but he is tense and rigid under Louis’ touch. It frightens Louis, who is so used to Harry coming undone under the press and pull of his hands, his fingertips pressing at his most tender parts, his hands framing the younger man’s face. His thumb padding gently against the swell of his lower lip is usually all it takes to draw a smile from Harry. But not now.

“Haz.” Louis says, his voice cracking. Harry is still turned from him, so Louis can only see a small slice of his face, illuminated orange by the streetlight overhead.

“Haz I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I was just having a moment. I don’t know why I said that, it’s just- it’s just what I do when…” He pauses, the words eluding him. Fuck, why did he have to be so shit at this?

“When what?” Harry turns towards him, eyes full of tears, mouth frowning deeply.

“When I start to need someone.” Louis says quietly, his own eyes prickling. “It’s what I do when I think somebody might hurt me. I run away. I don’t know how to do this, I’m not good enough for you, Haz. You deserve someone better, someone who won’t do this.”

His hand is still on Harry’s arm, fingers clutching and unclutching the soft material of his shirt. Harry looks down at this, and then back up and into Louis’ eyes. His eyes flash and he tugs his arm away.

“Not good enough for me? Jesus Lou, you don’t get it do you? I’m me again when I’m with you. I’m the Harry Styles I want to be all the time. The person I used to be, back when I was happy. You do that, you make me happy. Something happens when I’m with you and I just feel like, I feel like the fog clears and the sun comes out. That’s you. So don’t dare say that you’re not good for me, because you Louis Tomlinson are the best thing in my life and even if we’re just friends then I can still say you are the best thing that has ever been mine.” He’s breathing hard now, fists clenched at his sides. “It’s not just you, Louis. Nobody know how to do this, I don’t fucking have a clue. But I’m still here, I’m still trying. So you need to fucking try because…because I need you too. And that’s fucking terrifying. Don’t make me do this on my own. Come with me.” Harry’s voice is laced with something sharp and painful and real. Louis tumbles into him, buries his head in his chest, breathes him in, breathes in the beautiful Harry smell.

You smell like home, he thinks. But he doesn’t say it out loud. He just sobs dryly into Harry’s chest and links his arms around his neck and lets Harry wrap him up. After a few minutes they detach and walk back to the car and drive the short distance back to Louis’. They ride the lift in silence. Louis unlocks the door and lets Harry in in front of him. Louis locks the door, puts his keys in the bowl and feeds the cats. Harry gets a glass of water and stands at the sink, facing the wall. Louis picks up Eddie and cuddles him close before setting him down in his bed. He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair. Harry drains his glass and sets it down on the draining board.

They brush their teeth in silence, both looking anywhere but at each other’s reflections. Louis finishes undressing first, dropping his clothes on the floor and slipping into his side of the bed. The sheets are cool on his skin and his heart is beating nervously. His stomach is still churning. Harry undresses slowly, folding his clothes carefully and putting them on the chair in the corner. He doesn’t reach for Louis’ superman t-shirt like he usually does, and instead slips into bed wearing only his boxers. They lie side by side, not touching. Louis wants to say something to make everything better, something true, something that will show Harry that he wants to do this, that he can do this. But he can’t think of anything, so he just turns out the light and tries to sleep.

It’s only later, when Harry’s breathing has evened out and he is certain that he is asleep, that Louis finally thinks of something to say.

He curls close to Harry, presses his lips against the warm crease of his neck.

“I love you.” He whispers into the darkness.

Chapter Text

CH11:The One Where It Was Never Really Broken

When Louis wakes up the next morning he is alone. An anxious knot forms in his stomach as he looks around the room, blinking away sleep. Harry’s clothes are gone and the other side of the bed is cold, the pillow plumped and the duvet pulled up. Louis shuts his eyes and falls back against the pillow.

You fucking idiot. He thinks, curling up in a ball and trying not to cry.

He feels like the thread between him and Harry had been stretching all night when they hadn't touched once, tugging itself taut and that now it had surely snapped. How stupid he had been to think that this was the right thing to do, that this was the right fire to burn his fingers on. How had he been so idiotic to think that he could keep Harry after what he had done, he had tried to send him away and then told him to stay. He thought about Harry’s warmth, the way he filled the room up with light. And now he had sent him away. Louis sobbed quietly to himself, feeling so acutely alone he thought his heart might crack in two.

Come back come back come back, he thinks.

And then the door opens and someone steps into the room.

“Lou, why are you crying?” Harry asks. Louis’ eyes snap open. And sure enough Harry is there in front of him, fully dressed and holding a white paper bag.

“I thought you’d gone.” Louis sniffs, wiping at his eyes. His tears feel cold on his face. Harry’s face drops.

“Oh god I didn’t even think when I left I just- I just wanted to get you some breakfast. You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was an arse, you should have left me I deserve it.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Harry asks quietly, still paused in the doorway.

“No, no, never.” Louis says firmly and Harry smiles and closes the door.

“Good. I brought you croissants. But only if you try not to get crumbs in your bed.”

Our bed Louis thinks, not wanting to push things too soon by saying it aloud. Harry sits down next to Louis and hands him the bag. They eat in silence, not unpleasant but not as comfortable as usual. When he’s finished Louis lies down and pulls Harry down next to him, pressing his face into his neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He whispers into Harry’s skin. Harry kisses his forehead and strokes his hair. Louis’ heart relaxes a little and he feels like he is breathing for the first time since he'd seen Matt, though a strange tension remains in his stomach.  He thinks about himself at 16, broken for the first time for loving something he couldn’t keep, by promises dashed to pieces. He thinks about himself curled up on the floor of his mother’s bedroom, telling himself that he’ll never trust anyone again, that he will never let things hurt like this, never love anything that he could lose.

How things change, how they stay the same.

-

They eat lunch together in Louis’ office, as neither of them has time to go across campus to the canteen. Harry flicks through a magazine as he chews contemplatively on his sandwich. Louis is still buried in marking, but the end is near, the pile has dwindled to a manageable heap. He circles a particularly inarticulate paragraph with a red pen and writes really, Cameron? Despite his many and varied talents onstage Cameron Jones was not his most literate junior. He gives the essay a 55, and then has a burst of generosity and changes the second 5 to an 8. His students are under a mountain of pressure with auditions, and he wants to help where he can.

“I’ve gotta go, Lou.” He looks up to see that Harry has gotten to his feet and is brushing his legs of crumbs.

“Oh, alright. See you tonight?”

“Can’t. Said I’d go for dinner with Niall, didn’t I?”

“Coure, yeah. Sorry my heads all over at the moment.”

“S’alright.” Harry bends and gives Louis a chaste kiss on the temple.

“I’ll text you.” Louis says, and Harry leaves.

Louis takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. The knot of anxiety that had formed after his near-break up with Harry had not lessened by more than a fraction. There was a strain there, a tension in Harry’s behaviour that had never been there before. It was his own fault of course, he’d pushed him away only to grab him back desperately a moment later. That would be enough to mess with anyone’s head. But he so desperately wanted to fix it, wanted to show Harry that that was a moment of madness, a brief weakness that he wouldn’t give into again. He felt fiercely protective of Harry, and was furious at himself for being the cause of the boy’s uncertainty.

He had to do something to show him. He had to do something to make him see, even if he couldn’t say the words to Harry’s face. He pulls out his phone and calls the only number that makes sense.

“Zayn? Zayn I need your help.”

-

“Niall, where are we going? We should have gotten off at the last stop if we want to go to Luco’s. Niall stop ignoring me.”

But Niall only smiles wanly and looks out of the bus window at the darkening sky. Harry lets out an exasperated sigh and fiddles with his phone. No new messages. Nothing from Louis all day. He frowns as he locks and unlocks his phone nervously. The day had been horrible, and the uncertain sickness that had lurched in him when Louis had uttered those words hadn’t abated.

I can’t.

They had branded themselves onto his consciousness and mocked him every time he closed his eyes. He puts his phone away and clenches his fists at his side. And now Niall was being a prick, not telling him where they were going. Probably taking him to some dive bar so he could hook up with drunk girls whilst Harry sat alone in a corner.

He scowls and lets the motion of the bus rock him. 

3 minutes later and Niall is on his feet, pressing the button to stop the bus and dragging Harry off the bus and into the refreshing night air.

“Where the fuck are we, Ni?” Harry says, looking around. He’s in a part of Manchester he’d never seen before, all tall buildings and dark empty streets. The sky is light blue and already scattered with white stars.

“No time for questions, this way.” Niall says and starts to walk quickly down the street. Harry is momentarily stunned and has to jog to catch up.

“This is getting weird, Niall. Tell me where we’re going.” He tries to sound authoritative but it comes off as a little sulky.

“Patience, grasshopper. Almost there.” They walk in silence for a few more minutes before Niall takes a sharp left and leads Harry down a narrow side street and towards an abandoned looking building. Harry doesn’t even bother to ask any more questions.

When they reach the building Niall pulls out his phone, presses a few buttons and puts it to his ear.

“We’re here.” He says, and ends the conversation. They are standing in front of a set of heavy looking double doors, black and shiny and imposing.

Curiouser and curiouser, Harry thinks.

And then the door opens.

“Zayn?” Harry asks, although he knows it’s him.

The boy only smiles and cocks his head, indicating that they follow him inside. Harry steps through the doors and looks around. It looks like the lobby of a theatre or a hotel, though the carpet is fraying and the deep red wallpaper has peeled back from the walls. It is lit dimly by a few old lanterns hung along the walls. To the left of them is a desk, and in front there is a set of golden doors. Zayn walks towards the doors and Harry follows, stopping when he is halfway across the room when he realises that Niall hasn’t followed. He stops Zayn to ask but he only shakes his head and tells him cryptically “just you.”

They walk through the doors and down the corridor, which is darker than the lobby as most of the lights have gone. The walls are decorated with black and white photographs of glamorous looking men and women, heavily made up and dressed in furs and pearls and expensive looking suits. A chill runs through Harry but he keeps walking. They reach the end of the corridor. Zayn stops and nods towards the door. Harry takes a breath and pushes through it, hardly daring to hope that this means what he thinks it means.

He lets the door swing shut behind him.

“Wow.” He breathes, his heart hammering excitedly in his chest and a delicious tingle thrilling through him. He is standing in an old theatre, smaller than any he’s ever seen before, and clearly in disrepair. The seats are a deep purple, covered in cobwebs and dust, and the stage curtains are hanging off at an angle. But the stage is littered with hundreds of candles and twinkling fairy lights, and there is a small table in the centre covered in a beautiful gold cloth. A bottle of champagne shines wetly in a bucket of ice and Louis is standing at the front of the stage, chewing his lower lip and staring intently at Harry. Harry takes a few steps towards him, a grin spreading across his face. He climbs the stairs to the steps and Louis comes towards him quickly, grabbing him into an embrace. They breathe each other in before pulling apart slightly. Louis smiles sheepishly at the taller boy, and then tips his head up for a kiss. When they pull apart again Harry’s eyes are shining.

“Louis, I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“Is it alright? I didn’t know…I didn’t know if you’d think it was too much.”

“Too much?” Harry laughs. “Of course it’s too much. It’s amazing. You’re amazing. How did you even?”

Louis laughs shakily.

“Zayn helped. A lot. And Liam. And then Niall agreed to get you here.”

“What is this place?”

“My favourite place in the world. Used to come here all the time to play. ”

"Louis, why have you done all this?"

“Harry! I’ve been an arsehole to you. What do you think I’m doing this for? I’ve been horrible.”

“You’ve not been horrible, Lou! You were just being honest-”

“No! No I wasn’t being honest. I was being a coward. I was being pathetic. That’s not how I feel. That’s not it at all. Please, please forget I ever said anything. I want to do this with you… if you’ll still have me, that is.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh.

“Of course I’ll have you.” He says, pulling Louis back in and burying his face in his hair and kissing his head. Forever, he wants to whisper.

Louis grins and takes Harry’s hand and leads him over to the table, pulling out his chair so that he can sit down.

“Now just wait here.” Louis says, and before Harry asks he’s running off stage and into the wings. A few seconds later the lights go out and the candle light sends shadows rearing up along the walls and into every corner. Harry freezes briefly, his body stiffening and hot white fear prickling in his blood. And then Louis flicks a switch and everything is okay again.

The fairy lights above twinkle into life and Louis reappears, carrying a box. He sets it down on the table and takes out a few take-away boxes.

“I would have cooked but, you know…”

“Didn’t want to poison me?”

“Something like that.” Louis grins and puts the box on the floor, and starts to open the containers. They eat in silence, exchanging cute knowing glances across the table. Harry is struck by just how beautiful Louis looks in the soft glow of the fairy lights overhead. His eyebrows are a soft curve, and his eyes shine impossibly bright. His nose is a masterpiece of contours and his lips curve up into a smile every time he catches Harry’s eyes on him. He practically glows under the younger boys gaze. When they’ve finished eating, Louis pops the champagne and pours it into plastic cups.

“All I could get at short notice.” He says, apologetically. Before they can toast, Louis stands and takes Harry’s hand and leads him behind the stage.

“Wanna show you something.” Harry follows obediently, his fingers slotting between Louis’ perfectly. Louis leads them up a narrow set of stairs to the left of the stage, and through a black door and into another thin corridor. They come out onto a small balcony, a viewing box out in front. Louis leads Harry down the step and into the box. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small plastic rectangle. He presses a button and the world lights up.

Lights spin and sparkle around them and beautiful music fills the air. Harry’s mouth hangs open a little as he watches gorgeous lights spin and flash around the empty room. Louis grins at his side, holding his hand tightly.

“It’s beautiful Lou.” Harry manages to whisper and Louis laughs with relief and pulls him down into an embrace. When they pull apart Louis reaches under the chair to his right and pulls out a blanket which he spreads out on the floor in front of the row of seats in the box. It’s a squeeze but they manage to lie comfortably, and watch as white lights flash like stars above them. They cuddle together, kissing each other intermittently and stroking their hands over one another’s skin. Louis tells him about his first performance here, how he was almost sick with nerves. He tells him about Patrick, the best man he ever met, and how at first they'd been at each other's throats, but then had suddenly, almost instantly become friends.

"It was all after this one class. I was being a total prat, really playing up. It was after my dad had called and we'd had this row...something stupid, but it seemed so important then. And after class he kept me back, and I thought I was in for a right bollocking. But he just asked me what the matter was. And the way he was looking at me...it was just kindness. He was the best person I knew." Louis voice cracks a little and he swallows.

"He taught me to love what I do. He's the reason I'm a teacher at all."

"What happened to him?" Harry asks, voice quiet.

"He died about four years ago. In his sleep. His brother found him, said he looked as peaceful as anything. I never said goodbye, but it's like...I don't know. It sounds so stupid, but I don't feel like he's gone. I don't feel like he's ever far away." He pauses and shoots a look at Harry. "Wow that sounds totally crazy when I say it outloud."

"No." Harry says, and kisses Louis softly. "I understand." And something in his voice tells Louis that he does. They lie quietly for a while before Harry speaks again.

“Thankyou, Lou. For all this. It’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” Louis counters and kisses Harry’s nose. I love you, he thinks. But the words won’t bloom into anything more than a soft sigh.

It’s only later when they’re back at Louis’ flat, still breathless from fucking into each other’s mouths that Louis thinks he can say it. They’re drunk and dizzy on champagne and the Universe feels kind, the world feels right. The radio is playing by Louis’ bed, some cheesy 90s music filling the air around them. Louis lets himself love Harry, tentatively at first and then with everything he has. He lets him stare at Harry’s plump lips, the delicious curve of his eyes, the flick of his eyelashes. It’s obsession, passion, compatibility, serendipity. Love. He can say it. He opens his mouth-

“Imagine if we’d been together when we were teenagers.” Harry is speaking, his lips close to Louis’ ear and Louis shuts his mouth.

Louis laughs and runs a hand through Harry’s hair.

“I’m 4 years older than you babe, that would have been highly illegal.”

Harry nudges him with his elbow.

“Ugh, you know what I mean. Like, if you weren’t, and we were each other’s first and all that. Because it feels like I’ve known you all my life. It feels like…what’s that Gatsby quote…it feels like I’ve done everything on earth with you.”

“So cheesy babe.” But his skin is tingling.

“Well if you don’t feel the same.” He huffs and rolls over to face away from Louis.

“Babe, no.” Louis puts his arm across Harry’s chest and pulls him back so that they’re looking at each other. “Should I tell you what I think? I think that it doesn’t matter that it took us this long to find each other in this Universe, because somewhere out there in some other world, in some other dimension, that’s exactly how our story goes.” He doesn’t care that he’s being gooey and sickly and sweet because he feels gooey and sickly and sweet when he's with this impossible boy.

“You really think?” Harry’s face is deadly serious and he peeks at Louis from under his lashes. Shania Twain begins playing on the radio and oh god, Louis’ life is a 90s movie starring Sandra Bullock and since when was that exactly what he wanted?

“Of course. I think that there are infinite universes, infinite Harrys, infinite Louis’. Maybe we hate each other at first, maybe we don’t meet until we’re old, maybe we’re famous, who knows. But we meet and that’s what matters, and we love each other because that’s just what we’re made to do.”

Harry breathes in sharply and pulls away from Louis slightly. Louis furrows his brow and looks at him questioningly.

“You okay Haz?”

“You said- you said.” He opens his mouth and tries to speak, but the words die on his lips. He tries again. “You said love each other. Do we… do we love each other?”

Louis swallows and smiles nervously.

“I don’t know about you, but I do. Love you, I mean. I love you.” And it’s clumsy and shaky and nervous but it’s real, it’s been said, and that makes Louis' heart jump in his chest. And moments later Harry is crashing their lips together, laughing giddily and grabbing Louis’ hips tightly.

“Of course I love you. Of course.” And they kiss and smile and grip each other tightly. When Harry moves away he tips his head and speaks again.

“Do you really think so? About the universes, I mean.”

“I know so, Harry. And even if the world said no to this I’d still say yes every damn time. You’re the only thing I don’t have to doubt, you’re my sanity some days I swear. I’d follow you anywhere, Harry, I just- well I just love you. I’m in love with you.” And Harry kisses him again, and there is no more need for talking. Louis' lips claim ownership of Harry’s body and as he pushes into him he cries out his love again, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.

They fall asleep and dream of angels.

Chapter Text

One month later.

Zayn hasn’t slept since Tuesday. It’s Thursday now and his head is thumping from exhaustion and too much alcohol and other things that he refuses to address or make room for. His face is framed with dark stubble and his eyes are ringed dark purple. He slides open the balcony door and steps outside. It’s midday and the sun is shining, but in the shade the air is still cool. He sticks a cigarette between his lips and lights it, inhaling deeply and watching as the smoke curls out in front of him. He can hear the sounds of traffic below, the rumble of dozens of engines as they speed by, the occasional honking of a horn. It makes his head hurt worse and he scowls down at the people.

When he has smoked the cigarette down to the filter he goes back inside and presses a button on the coffee maker. It’s a new machine, shiny and black and covered in confusing buttons. It was a gift from Liam on the day his EP was released. They’d sat on the floor of Zayn’s flat, still giddy from the champagne that they’d drunk the night before, and Liam had let him unwrap the gift that he’d set down on the table before they’d left for the party. He had laughed, he remembers it now. The happiness thrilling through him, electricity in his veins. He’d insisted on trying out his new coffee maker, plugging it in and filling it up and pressing all of the buttons until he found the right one. But before the water had even boiled he had pushed Liam down against the cold kitchen tiles and sucked bruises in possessive patterns on his flesh. They’d undressed each other slowly, shakily, their hands clumsy and desperate. They left a trail of clothes from the kitchen to bedroom, and when Zayn eventually pushed into Liam they both cried out, breathless from the perfect pressure, the painful pleasure. The coffee was left undrunk.

He shakes himself, pushes back any memory of that day, or any other day before it had all gone to shit. He pours himself a cup of coffee and sips it, though he barely tastes anything. He needs to shower. He needs to clean up his flat. Most of all he needs to sleep. The world around him seems dull, blurred and soft where it would usually be sharp. He hasn’t written a song in weeks. He opens the curtain, thinking it might help.

It doesn’t.

He shuts the curtain before trudging back into the bedroom and picking up his phone from his desk. At least he’s finally managed to stop sleeping with it curled in his fingers. Small victories.

Zayn knows now that he isn’t going to call again.

There are a few missed call from Niall and a text message from Louis telling him to get in touch.

He swallows, guilt swelling in his chest. He hasn’t seen Louis for almost 13 days, hasn’t felt able, not with his best friend so achingly happy and in love. He’d seen him the night that it had happened, he’d gone straight to Louis’ flat, straight to the only person that he knew might be able to make him feel better. But when he’d arrived, heart cold and broken, it had been Harry who’d answered the door. When Louis appeared behind him a moment later Zayn had broken down entirely. He’d spent the rest of the night sobbing into Louis’ chest, Harry stroking his back softly. They had set up Louis’ sofa bed and cuddled him until he had fallen asleep. But he had only slept a few hours, and when he woke he was unable to sleep again. An iron fist settled around his heart and he had climbed out of bed and put his shoes on and slipped out into the night.

He had avoided everyone since then.

He locks his phone and throws it back on the desk. He goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower, stepping in before it’s even warmed up. The cold water doesn’t shock him quite as much as it ought to. He lets the water beat down on him. He washes his hair with a great effort. He doesn’t cry. When he gets out of the shower he goes back into the kitchen to wash up his cup. He tries to detach the cup holder from his coffee maker so he can clean it to, but it catches and won’t come away. He pulls it harder, frustration building.

And then he snaps.

He pulls it from the wall, tugging it hard until the plug comes away. He throws it at the kitchen wall. A loud crack echoes around the room as it falls to the floor in several pieces. Zayn exhales for what seems like the first time in days and goes into the living room to curl up on the sofa. He lights a cigarette, not caring that he’s inside and the smell will cling for days. He shuts his eyes and inhales, feeling suddenly weighed down, too heavy for everything. He opens his eyes for a few seconds, but they droop down again, as if unable to sustain the weight of consciousness.

A month before and Zayn had felt invincible. He had never felt so creative, his lyrics had never come so easily. And Liam Payne had wanted him. That had been the best thing, and that was what had torn the ugly hole in the middle of his life.

It had been obvious all along, he realises now. The secrecy, the frantic fucks in club toilets, the endless mornings when he’d wake up alone. Liam had never promised anything, not with words, not with anything concrete. Zayn had only assumed, mistranslated the way that Liam held him with breathless longing as love, when it had only ever been lust.

There are 3 empty bottles of whisky on Zayn’s bedside table now.

One for every week since he last saw Liam.

How fucking rock and roll.

His heart hurts.

His breathing slows and he feels the familiar pull of sleep. He tries to push back against it, sensing some danger. He thinks of burning embers briefly, before falling into a deep and leaden sleep.

The lit cigarette falls from his hand and drops to the rug beneath him. A few more seconds and it will catch, but Zayn is already dreaming, flinching slightly as images of Liam come unchecked.

A steel capped boot comes down to stub the cigarette out, and then two ringed fingers pluck it from the floor and set it on the side. Zayn’s angel cocks his head and pushes his dark hair out of black rimmed eyes. There is a red pulse around Zayn’s stomach that only he can see.

Not yet, he thinks. Not yet but soon.

He reaches down and touches Zayn’s temple lightly, and the boy relaxes, his head emptying and his face softening as blissful oblivion replaces fretful dreams. The angel leaves by the balcony, a flash of black returning him to the inbetween.

-

“Ok, ok, I’m ready this time. Try it again.”

“Once more. Ready?”

“I said I was, didn’t I?”

“Alright. One…two…three!”

“Oh no I wasn’t ready for that. One more.”

“No! There’s popcorn everywhere. You shouldn’t be that shit at the game with a gob as big as yours, honestly curly.”

“Heeey.”Harry feigns anger, which proves a little difficult considering there are several pieces of buttery popcorn in his hair and he’s still grinning like an idiot.

Louis leans over to pick out a piece, and pops it into Harry’s mouth. His lips are a little slick with butter and Louis wants nothing more to lean over and lick them clean and then take care of the rest of him with his tongue. Unfortunately they’re at Harry’s and Niall’s only just popped out to take a phonecall fom his older brother.

“Hey, how’s Zayn?” Harry asks, settling back into his side of the sofa, face suddenly serious. Louis sighs and runs a hand over his hair.

“No idea. Hasn’t called. I went round the other day, on the off chance, but he didn’t let me in. I could hear him in there, playing one of his records top volume. I’m worried about him.” Louis chews his lip thoughtfully.

“He’ll be alright though?” Harry asks and Louis nods, though it’s slow and uncertain.

“Yeah, course. It’s Zayn- he’s always alright. I just think he was a bit unprepared for it all. He fell in love without realising it was happening, poor bastard.”

“Well what about Liam? I mean I know he’s not perfect but he’s not…I mean he didn’t want to hurt Zayn, surely?”

“No, I’m sure he didn’t. To be honest I don’t even know how it all went down. Zayn didn’t say, did he? Just said it’s over, couldn’t do it anymore when Liam didn’t feel the same.”

“Probably for the best. I couldn’t keep fucking a guy I loved when I knew he didn’t love me.” Harry says, leaning over to snuggle up to Louis.

“Luckily for you you’re fucking a guy who is very much in love with you.”

Niall chooses this moment to reappear.

“Jesus, guys, can we quit it with that horrible shit please.”

But Harry ignores Niall and turns his face up to kiss Louis. Niall shudders and turns up the TV.

-

It’s a full week before they can get Zayn to let them into his flat. It’s another 4 days after that that he finally agrees to wear anything but Liam’s joggers, and then it takes a lot of coaxing and even some gentle threats of actual bodily harm (Niall) and intense physical affection (Louis) that they get him to shave.

“That beard is truly foul, Zayn. No offense.” Niall tells him, very offensively as he chews on a stale piece of toast. It had been the only thing remotely palatable he could find to ingest in Zayn’s kitchen. He’d stepped over the smashed remains of Zayn’s coffee maker and opened the fridge, his face freezing in horror when he finds it almost empty. (“An egg and a jar of mayonnaise? How can you live this way?”)

“Thanks Niall.” Zayn shouts from the bathroom. Louis smiles at this, reassured by the energy in Zayn’s voice. It wasn’t much, but it was definitely progress.

“I think we’re on to stage four of the Zayn Malik break-up cleanse.” He whispers to Harry, who is at that moment piling take-away boxes into a plastic bag. Harry looks up at him, confused.

“The what?”

“The Zayn Malik break-up cleanse.” Niall says not so quietly as he flops down on the sofa in front of them. “It’s like the five stages of grief, except there are six because Zayn’s a greedy griever.”

“And these stages are?” Harry asks, a little warily.

“Well first,” Louis says, launching straight in, “We have plain old vanilla sadness. You saw that for yourself. He tends to cry a lot during this stage, and it’s vital that you ply him with Kleenex and kisses and red wine.”

“And then?”

“Then there’s anger. He’ll need a few days on his own for this, so he can watch violent movies and pace aggressively around his flat. He’s been known to destroy a pillow or two during this stage.” 

“And a couple of plates, I heard. But then there’s denial. Which is worse.” Louis says, wiping the surface of Zayn’s coffee table with a damp cloth. “It’s best to leave him alone for this stage. This is when he beings the purge, and he’ll deny he’s ever had feelings for anyone ever and will sod off on his own in town to get rip roaring drunk and make out with whatever pretty fool he spots first.”

“It’s not pretty.” Niall says.

“But it never lasts long and then you have depression. Which is, as you can see, takes quite a while to get through. It involves boxed wine, take-out food and enough cigarettes to kill a well-trained monkey.”

“Brutal.” Niall agrees, stretching out on the sofa as he watches the others clean.

“But it’s over now?” Harry says uncertainty.

“It’s over now.” Zayn says from the doorway, making them all jump. With his beard gone and his hair styled he looks a far cry from the homeless wreck that had opened the door to them more than a week before. 

“You lot are hardly subtle.” He says, but he’s grinning. He leans in the doorway and smiles at them.

“Good to see you out from under all that facial hair, man.” Niall says from the sofa. “You looked suspiciously like the man who lives near the underpass and flashes his bits at girls.”

“My secret life uncovered.” Zayn says with a grin.

“So.” Louis says firmly, and they all turn to look at him. “Are you going to tell us what happened?”

“Not until I’ve had at least six gin and tonics.” Zayn replies, swiping at Niall’s feet and grabbing his jacket. “Come on you boring bastards.”

And like that Zayn is back. Well, mostly. Because however chirpy and positive Zayn seems, Louis knows him well enough to see that there is a hollowness behind the sparkle of his eyes that wasn’t there before Liam. He puts his arm around Zayn’s waist as they pick up their drinks from the bar and gives him a squeeze. Zayn squeezes back and then they separate as Louis runs to sit next to Harry in the booth, pushing Niall out of the way.

“Hey! Cheeky beggar.”

“Sorry Ni, but I called dibs on Harry.”

Niall just shakes his head and sits down on the other side next to Zayn, who has just taken a seat. There is a silence as they all take a pull from their glances.

“So,” Zayn says. “Who wants to hear the sad, sorry details?”

-

It had happened almost a month before. Things had been going perfectly before then, or so Zayn had thought. They were seeing each other regularly outside of work. They’d been recording almost every day, and mostly it had just been Zayn and Liam in the studio together, recording and rerecording and editing everything until they were both happy. When Holly was looking after Jack they would go back to Zayn’s together and get each other off, sleepily if they’d been working all night, or frantically, desperately, if they’d been unable to touch each other all day because of Liam’s colleagues being all around them. One night they’d been too tired to move and had curled up together on a sofa in the studio, Liam curved behind Zayn, their hands clasped together at Zayn’s hip. When they’d woken up at 7 the studio was still empty and Liam had woken Zayn up and taken him to breakfast. After a bacon sandwich (for Liam) and a coke and a cigarette (for Zayn) they’d driven back to Liam’s and Zayn had gone down mercilessly on Liam in the shower before Liam had returned the favour, his fingers pressing gently at Zayn’s hole. Zayn was glad they were alone in the house, as he’d screamed when he’d come into Liam’s mouth.

And all of this had been enough, Zayn had thought. It was like the beginning of any relationship. Sure, they’d never really talked about it, and Liam had never exactly told Zayn that he’d liked him. But it was obvious, wasn’t it? He’d made it clear that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else and Zayn sure as hell wasn’t. There had been one night when they were at a bar together and a tall guy in a black suit had cornered Zayn at the bar and whispered something into his hear, Zayn’s forgotten now, some awful pick up line. And Zayn had just shook his head and turned back to Liam, rolling his eyes. But then Liam had raised his eyebrows and leaned in and said “You can if you want.” And it was all Zayn could do not to push Liam against the bar and suck his cock until he promised never to say anything like that again. In actual fact they’d made it as far as a cubicle in the gents toilets before Zayn had pulled Liam’s jeans to the floor and was licking roughly along the seam of his dick. Taking hold of Liam in his hand and pumping violently he had looked up and told him in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want to go home with anyone else. And Liam had closed his eyes and curled his fingers into Zayn’s hair and hissed good before Zayn shut him up again.

But then Liam had gotten the phone call, and everything had come into sharp, horrible focus for Zayn.

It was a Friday night, and he and Liam had just gotten home from a night at the studio. They’d chosen Liam’s house, because he had more food in the fridge and Zayn’s stomach was rumbling. After they’d eaten and sprawled out on the sofa Liam had put on a film, some superhero franchise that Zayn secretly loved but never admitted to because he was a musician and it was so uncool. Liam had wrapped his arms around him and Zayn’s heart had filled with light and he wanted to sing and laugh and do a ridiculous irish jig around Liam’s front room. Instead he just settled into Liam’s warmth and shut his eyes. He’d seen the film so many times he could practically recite the script. So he let himself doze, breath steadying out and slowing as he fell asleep.

When he woke up, he was alone, and the credits were rolling. The space beside him was cold and Liam was not in the room. He wasn't not in the dining room either, nor the kitchen. He was about to call out when he heard the quiet hum of Liam’s voice outside. Zayn went to the back door. It was slightly ajar, and through the frosted glass he could see the outline of Liam in the garden. He was on the phone, and his voice was tense. Zayn furrowed his brow. He knew he should go back to the living room. He knew he should really just do anything that didn't involve eavesdropping on Liam.

He held his breath and stepped closer to the door.

“It’s really none of your business, Hol." Pause "Oh that’s rich, like you’ve never brought anyone around Jack." Pause "We work together! What was I meant to do? Jack likes him, so it’s not a problem." A longer pause "For fuck’s sake I don’t know why it even matters, he’s just a fuck. He’s nothing, he’s just a hook up so you can just let it go. And another thing-”

But Zayn didn't hear the other thing, because he was already turning and running from Liam’s voice. He grabbed his coat and his phone and slipped on his shoes quickly at the door before opening it and bolting into the night. He didnt stop running until he was  halfway back to his flat. He stopped to lean against a bus shelter and wow he needs to stop smoking and then his phone rang with Liam’s ringtone. It’s the titanic theme tune, Louis had chosen it when they’d all been pissed in the pub one night and they had all thought it was absolutely hilarious. It didn't seem so funny to Zayn then. He though for a second, and then ended the call.

He’s nothing. His heart cracked.

He’s just a fuck. His hands started to shake.

He put his phone in his pocket and started to run again, and he ran straight past his own flat and further into town towards Louis’. By the time he got there it’s gone midnight and it’s Harry who answers the door.

“And the rest is history.” Zayn tells his friends in the pub. It’s easier than he thought it would be, telling them the story.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Not bad. No, really.” He says when he catches sight of their disbelieving faces. “I’m alright. I’m getting through the Malik break-up system or whatever you dicks call it.”

“The Zayn Malik break-up cleanse.” Niall corrects quietly from behind his pint.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Although I think I totally skipped denial and doubled up on anger. Need a new shower radio as well as a coffee maker.”

“Well so long as you’re surviving.” Harry says.

“At first…I was petrified.” Louis sings softly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake you’ve set him off.” Niall groans, exasperated.

“Keep thinking I could never live without you by my side.” Harry chimes in.

Zayn buries his head in his hands.

“But then I spent so many nights- thinking how you did me wrong.” Harry and Louis are singing together. People are staring.

“AND I GREW STRONG.” Niall belts, one hand wrapped around his pint and the other in the air.

“AND I LEARNED HOW TO GET ALONG!”

And Zayn covers his ears, laughing uncontrollably into his second gin and tonic as his three idiot friend’s launch into the chorus with unrestrained gusto.

And if the table feels a little empty he doesn’t let it hurt him.

Stage six of the Zayn Malik break-up cleanse: acceptance. And it doesn’t matter that he’s not there yet. With friend like this, he knows it will only be a matter of time.

-

Chapter Text

CH13:The One Where It's Not A White Lie

Harry and Louis’ first fight is a big one.

Well, their first fight if you don’t count Louis’ freak out about the shampoo bottle. But that had been before the 'I love you's', before they were officially, properly, cosmically involved.

And neither of them sees it coming.

The day starts out fine, they wake up in Louis’ flat, cuddle for half an hour before climbing into the shower together. Harry then makes breakfast, Louis watches, tries to help, sets the smoke alarm off and is banished back to the table. A normal morning by all accounts.

The rest of the day is no different. At work they smile secretly at one another from across the room and then kiss each other hungrily in Louis’ office before Harry has to go across campus and help find a missing cable and supervise first years between exams. Louis’ students make him cry with laughter, and then genuine panic when he realises that none of them know their lines for the next showcase.

Harry comes by at 5 to try and get him to leave his office and come home. He's been sitting in the corner of Louis' office for a while before he comments, but Louis is quick to brush him off.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that ten minutes ago, Lou.”

“Well I was lying then. Five more minutes, promise.”

Twenty minutes later they climb into Louis’ car and he pulls out of the carpark.

“Can we go to yours tonight, Haz? Can’t be bothered to drive to mine.”

“Sure, shall we get food on the way?”

“I can’t be bothered. Order in?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Is Niall working?”

“Yeah, won’t be back til late.”

“That boy never stops, I swear.”

Harry agrees and turns up the volume on the car stereo and they sit in comfortable silence for the remainder of the drive.

They spend the rest of the night like this, too exhausted to speak, laying entwined on the sofa. Harry is wrapped around Louis like a twisted human pretzel, his eyes drooping as he drifts to sleep. Louis strokes his back and turns the television down. It’s only a repeat of some shitty reality TV show they both still pretend not to like. Harry begins to snore against Louis’ chest.

He thinks he’ll never get tired of lying like this, his heat and Harry’s heat pressed tight together, their hearts beating against the others skin.

Harry jolts a little in his sleep and Louis laughs quietly.

What even are you? He thinks, looking down at Harry's endless body.

But then Harry jolts again and the laughter dies on Louis' lips. Harry’s face is contorted in fear and he mumbles incoherently, desperately, Louis’ t-shirt fisting in his hand.

“Haz? Haz baby wake up.” Louis tries to shake him gently awake but he’s too deep in the dream.

“No…no.” Harry whines, shaking his head violently from side to side.

“Harry! Wake up Haz.” Louis says it louder this time, holding him a little tighter. Harry’s eyes snap open and he sits up violently, pulling away from Louis. He looks around wildly as though he half expects his dream to have followed him into life. When he realises that he's safe in his flat he slumps against the back of the sofa.

“Another nightmare?” Louis asks and Harry turns sharply, as though he only just remembered that Louis was with him.

“No, no. Nothing like that.” He says and tries to force a smile. But it doesn’t fool Louis, not for one second. He grits his teeth and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Harry.” He says, and his voice is harsher than even he expected.

“Cup of tea?” Harry springs to his feet and pads over to the small kitchen. He fills the kettle and sets it to boil, all the while keeping his back to Louis. Louis stands and follows him in.

“Harry, we need to talk about this.”

“Bag in before water or after? Can never remember what you like.”

“Harry stop.”

“What? Thought you wanted tea.”

“Look at me Harry.”

Harry exhales loudly and then turns.

“What’s up?” He fakes a smile. Louis doesn’t bother to return it.

“What’s up? Harry you’ve had nightmares every night for the past week. You wake up crying and screaming and then won’t tell me what the hell you’re dreaming about! Clearly something’s bothering you and I don’t understand why you can’t just say it.”

“You’re exaggerating a bit there Lou, come on. It’s not every night.” Harry raises his eyebrows at Louis and no, because they don't do this, Harry doesn't shut Louis out.

“It’s every night since last Thursday. Twice on Saturday night.” Louis' voice is raised, insistent.

Harry tries to laugh, pass it all off as a joke, Louis’ over protectiveness, his boyfriend’s paranoia. But the laugh doesn’t carry, it shudders to a halt halfway through.

“Stop lying to me Haz.”

“Lying? I’m not fucking lying to you! Are you joking? It’s just dreams, fucking hell, you want me to keep a dream journal and hand it in to you at the end of the week, is that it? Nah, fuck this.”

He storms out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, slamming the door. Louis is hot on his heels, pushing the door and leaving it wide open.

“Why are you so fucking defensive? Let me ask you that. Why are you so fucking bothered by me asking? If it’s “just a dream” – Louis mimes quotation mark in the air – then why can’t you just fucking tell me?”

“Because- because I don’t want to. I don’t have to tell you everything. You’re not my-”

“Not your what? Not your boyfriend, cos yeah I fucking am. Unless you’ve changed your mind about that?” He’s suddenly fearful and Harry must hear it in his voice because his face softens and he lowers his voice.

“No, of course I haven’t. I was just going to say you aren’t my mum.”

“I’m not trying to be Harry.” Louis sounds exasperated, broken. “I’m not trying to be anything, I just care about you. For fuck’s sake I love you, I just want to know what you’re scared of.”

“I’m scared of losing you.” Harry says and for a Louis doesn’t even mind that he’s sidestepped his question again.

“I’m scared of losing you, too. But you have to tell me things Haz. I feel like there’s so much you’re not telling me about Edinburgh. What happened there? What happened that was so bad that you had to leave? And don’t- don’t tell me you were bored because we both know that’s bollocks.”

Harry takes a deep breath and sits down on the bed.

“Alright. Alright. But, you have to promise me you’ll hear me out and not be mad.”

“Okay. Okay, I can do that.” He crosses the room and sits down beside Harry on the bed. 

-

Twenty minutes later Harry finishes his story. They sit in silence for a few moments, Harry’s words heavy between them.

“So they kicked out out? That’s the big secret?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“And you couldn’t tell anyone that because?”

“Because I’m ashamed! Because I don’t want my friends to know that I’m a total fuck-up who couldn’t even make the minimum grades. Fuck, you have no idea how difficult it is to be me around you lot.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry shakes his head slowly.

“Look at you, Louis. And then look at me. You graduated with honours from one of the best performing art schools in the country, you have this great job, amazing flat. You're successful.  And then there’s me- a couple of shit A-Levels and nothing else. I couldn’t even last more than one term at Uni. That’s pretty pathetic in my book.”

“Not in mine- no Harry I’m serious. I don’t think you’re the least bit pathetic. And you want to know why? Because you’re without a doubt one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met. You’re funny and clever, and you make me laugh and everyone loves you. You look at people like they matter and you make them think they matter. Everyone loves you at work, all of the heads of department talk about you. There's future for you at Coles, if you want it. You could do anything.”

“Don’t, Lou. You don’t have to say that. I know I’m not much.”

“Not much? Harry you’re everything.”

Louis is grasping Harry’s hands in his. Harry has his head down and is staring into his lap.

“Look at me Haz. You can do whatever you want to do. Anything. And I’ll be by your side for as long as you need. Alright?”

Harry looks up and Louis’ eyes are so bright and sincere that he almost has to look away. But he holds his gaze because he owes him that.

“Alright.” He says and feigns a smile. He lets his boyfriend push gently down onto the bed and smother him with soft kisses whilst he shuts his eyes and hates himself, hates himself for lying to the person who means most to him in all  the world.

Kicked out of Uni? If only it were that simple.

He tries to sleep, but the world seems to rush on without him. He doesn't deserve peace.

He turns over in bed and looks at the alarm clock. 3:36am.

Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar. The words dance through the blue light around him, ring in his head and fill his mouth with metal and grit.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

Chapter Text

CH14:The One Where It's Not Stage Fright 

It's the second week of June when they all see Liam.

Harry is just leaving the bank when he spots him across the street. The weather is really starting to warm up and Liam is dressed in a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and a pair of pristine Timbalands. He’s too far away for Harry to get a good look at his face, and he disappears into a carpark before Harry has a chance even to catch his breath.

Last they’d heard from Zayn he’d been working in Leeds, setting up the new Yorkshire branch of Wrekked records. Zayn had told Louis at the pub after a few glasses of Merlot and had insisted several times that he was totally absolutely fine and didn’t care at all if Liam had left. He could be on Jupiter for all it mattered to Zayn.

When Louis had relayed the message back to the others there was mixed reviews. Niall thought that it was a positive thing. With Liam out of the way Zayn could finish getting over him, perhaps find someone new and get on with his life. But Harry had disagreed; Zayn couldn’t just wash his hands of someone that he loved because they were in a different county. It had only been a couple of months since they’d stopped seeing each other and Harry – ever the hopeless romantic- still believed that there was a happy ever after on the cards.

Louis wanted to side with Harry – there was far more potential for oral sex in this decision – but he couldn’t help but think Niall was right. Although Zayn was adamant about being over it, it was blindingly apparent to Louis that he was still absolutely heartbroken, and having Liam in the same city doesn’t exactly bode well for getting his best friend fixed up and better. In the end they’d agreed that whatever happened, they would give Zayn space to deal with it and not intrude.

But then Harry spots Liam back in Manchester, and he just can’t help himself.

Lou- never guess who I just saw. Begins with L, ends in iam, and makes a fantastic lamb madras. Text me back ily xx

He doesn’t receive a reply until he’s in the supermarket, browsing the foreign foods for something exotic to make Louis for dinner.

Shit- no way? Where was he? Does Zayn know? Bloody nora. Have a meeting until 6, but see you at home. Love you, x

In the end Niall comes too, lured by the promise of Katsu curry and important news.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Niall says thickly through a mouthful of rice.

“Jesus, Ni, chew your food.” Harry says, picking a grain of Niall’s partially masticated dinner out of his hair. “And no, I’m not kidding. He was right there, plain as day.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t like…I dunno- David Beckham or someone?”

Harry laughs and takes a bite of his own dinner.

“I’m sure. It was definitely him. It was definitely Liam.”

“So I guess he’s back?” Louis says to no-one in particular.

“I don’t know. He might be back for the week or the day. No way to know unless we all march round there and knock on his door.” Harry says.

“So do we tell Zayn or not? Doesn’t seem worth it if he’s not back for good.”

They think to themselves for a few moments. Then Louis speaks.

“I say we do nothing for now. Just keep an eye out, and if any of us see him again- then we tell Zayn. He’s been doing so well lately, even started dating again. I really don’t want to see all that thrown away over nothing.”

“Agreed.” Niall says heartily. Harry chews his lip and looks a little uncertain.

“I don’t know guys…surely he has a right to know? He might want to see him.”

“Yeah, well even if he did it doesn’t look like Liam wants to see him. He hasn’t exactly been moving mountains to win Zayn back.” Niall says.

Harry thinks about this for a few seconds, then nods his head slowly in agreement.

-

Niall sees Liam four days later.

He’s on his break at work when it happens. It’s 7 in the evening, and the sun is hanging low in the sky. The air is warm and dry. He lights a cigarette and takes a seat at one of the benches outside. There’s a football match on TV, so he’s the only one outside. He watches the traffic crawl by as he checks his phone, sending a few texts and replying to one of Harry’s stupidly deep tweets.

@Harry_Styles hey you’ll always be my winding wheel even if you are a soppy prick.

He chuckles softly as he locks his phone, fondness for his best friend blooming in his chest. Harry always had worn his heart on his sleeve, but there’s something about Louis that’s just different. With Harry’s other boyfriends there had always been an element of competition for Niall, ingrained dislike. But with Louis- well, he loves them both. There’s something so obvious about them when they’re together, something that makes so much sense that he just wants to throw his hands in the air and shout ‘eureka!’. He is mostly able to resist this particular urge.

He’s shaken out of his stupor by the slamming of a car door. It takes him a few seconds to place the car that’s just pulled up across the road. And then someone climbs out of the driver’s seat and he realises.

Liam.

Half hidden behind a shrub Niall cranes to get a better look. Liam is turned slightly away, and Niall can’t see him very clearly across the wide road. The door on the passenger side opens and a woman steps out. She is dressed in tight black jeans, a white shirt and black stilettos. He catches sight of the red sole and tries to remember something his last girlfriend had said about some shoes with a red sole being “to die for”.

So, obviously a classy bird.

He watches them for a few more seconds. The woman takes Liam’s arm and they walk inside a restaurant together.

Niall smokes his cigarette pensively.

They’d all agreed that if they saw Liam again they’d tell Zayn. But he wasn’t exactly sure Zayn would want to hear about what he’d just witnessed. Liam back in town- possibly forever- with a fit new girl on his arm. Not exactly the best of news for someone trying to get over a break-up.

Knowing Zayn it would be like giving a recovering alcoholic a glass of wine. And then a pint. And then heroin.

And then setting him on fire.

Not a good idea.

No, he decides. He’ll keep it to himself for now. Just for a little while, until he thinks of a more solid plan. Zayn has an important gig in two days and there’s no sense in worrying him. It’s not like Zayn spends anytime in central Manchester. The chances of them running in to one another…not likely. Unless Fate has other plans, Niall thinks, Zayn will be none the wiser.

He finishes his cigarette and goes inside.

Fate cracks her knuckles and sets to work.

-

It’s the night of Zayn’s gig, and he’s nervous. A sharp pain has been building in his abdomen all week, a thick knot of anxiety that he can’t seem to suppress with any amount of painkillers of whisky. He and Louis are sitting backstage in a make-shift dressing room, drinking coke. Louis is trying to keep Zayn’s mind away from his building stage fright by telling awful jokes and trying to catch malteasers in his mouth.

“Zayn! Zayn look. Look Zayn, I caught one.”

Zayn just nods, eyes fixed determinedly on the small window on the far side of the room

If he stacked a few boxes on top of each other he might just be able to climb out.

“Zaaayn, Zayn, do you think I could eat this whole donut in one?”

He looks at Louis.

“Probably. Got a big enough gob for it.”

“Aw thanks Zayn.” Louis says in a sickly sweet voice.

“Where’s Haz, anyway? Weird seeing you without your shadow.” The words are harsher than Zayn intended, but he doesn’t take them back.

Louis frowns.

“He’s still at work. Coming soon though.”

“Good, you can go and annoy him for a bit.”

Louis sits up and puts down his donut.

“Alright mate, no need for the hostility. I’m only trying to help.”

“Well you’re not helping, you’re really not. So actually if you could just go that would be great.”

Louis’ feels a chill of discomfort run down his spine. This is unfamiliar territory. This is Zayn, his best friend in all the world, and he wants Louis gone.

“Zayn- I-”

“Nah, save it. I just need some space alright?”

“Fine, fucking hell. Whatever.” Louis says and storms out of the room.

He walks quickly down some stairs and out into the venue. He goes straight to the bar and orders a large gin & tonic. He texts Harry to tell him where he is and then takes a big sip of his drink.

Gin is most definitely his new best friend.

He seethes at Zayn for a while, trying to be angry. But it doesn’t work. He loves Zayn and it just doesn’t stick. He stands and picks up his drink, determined to go back to Zayn’s dressing room and make the peace. He’s halfway across the room when he spots a familiar face in the ground.

“What the fuck…” He says under his breath, and then walks towards the figure hiding in the corner.

“Louis! Oh my god.” Liam says, eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Louis says flatly.

“I- I just wanted. I just wanted to see him.”

“Well he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Did he say that?”

“Well- no, but… but he definitely doesn’t need to tonight. It’s the biggest show of his career and you’re gunna fuck it up if he spots you.” Louis’ voice is harsh and desperate, but as he looks at Liam more closely he softens. The man’s eyes are ringed with deep purple, and his face looks thinner than it did before. He’s still technically handsome but…it’s strained, the once soft beauty having sharpened at the edges. He looks the same way Zayn looked right after they’d split. He looks heartbroken.

“I’m sorry Louis I know I shouldn’t be here. I just wanted to see him…I just wanted to speak to him, and explain maybe. I called him so many times, I wrote him letters, I went to his flat. But he didn’t want to speak to me. He wouldn’t let me in. So I stopped trying. I went to Leeds for a bit, as well, thought it might help to get away. But it didn’t. He’s all I can think about, Louis. I need to see him, I need to tell him that.”

Louis needs a few seconds to process the new information before he is able to speak.

“He said…Zayn said you never tried to get in touch.”

It’s Liam’s turn to look stunned.

“I never stopped trying! Not for weeks. It was him who made it clear we were over. All because of that stupid phone call.” He rubs his face with his hand, exhaustion written in his every move.

“Well, you can hardly blame him can you? You said he was nothing, Liam. I mean shit…he’s felt like nothing his whole life. Then he found you and he felt like somebody. Do you realise that? He would have done anything to make you happy, to make you proud. And you dismissed him like he was trash.” Louis tries to keep the edge out of his voice but he can’t. He’s thinking about the ache in Zayn’s voice when he’d turned up at Louis’ and told him what had happened, the violent shudder of his chest when he’d started to sob.

Liam swallows and tears pool in his eyes.

“I was trying to protect him- I thought…I thought Holly would try and hurt us. I thought she’d try and take Jack away. I panicked. I was so fucking stupid…but I never meant it. Zayn was everything to me, everything. He still is. And I need to tell him, and I know you hate me Louis but you have to let me try.”

“I don’t hate you Liam. I don’t.” He says firmly. “But this situation is a fucking mess. We need to think about this carefully. Zayn is the most stubborn person I know and he won’t take kindly to an ambush. I think it’s best if you go before the show starts.”

But before he’s even finished speaking the lights go out and Zayn steps onto the stage. Louis pushes Liam backwards into a booth. The club is small and if Zayn looks hard enough through the glare of the lights he might just see them talking.

But as it happens, Zayn has no time to see anyone. He’s barely at the mic when his stomach twists in agony and he cries out.

A moment later he collapses unconscious on the stage.

Chapter Text

CH15:The One Where Bridges Are Built And Burned

The horrible pain in Zayn’s stomach was not, as he had suspected, merely stage fright.

“He has kidney stones.” The doctor tells Louis, Niall and Harry. Liam is currently outside on the phone to his boss. “It’s never normally this bad but…he’s left them a long time. Must have been a pretty painful few weeks.”

Louis and the others exchange a look.

“We’re going to have to keep him here for a few nights, his tests are still looking a little troubling. Nothing to worry about.” She adds quickly when she sees their faces. “We just need to make sure there’s no chance of damage to the kidneys. He’ll be good to go in a few days. Any questions?”

They shake their heads and thank her. She turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway.

“You know, for brothers, you really don’t look that much like Mr. Malik. How curious.”

She leaves without another word.

“Well that’s a relief. I think Liam was about to go all Shakespeare and try and follow Zayn into the void.” Louis says, trying to keep his voice light but failing.

“Yeah I’ve never seen anyone that gutted before.” Niall agrees.

“That’s because he loves him.” Harry says. “Just like I told you two all along. He’s his lobster.”

“Ugh, you know lobsters don’t even…oh never mind.” Louis says, sensing defeat.

“Well we better go and tell him the good news. Though he definitely won’t be smiling by the time Zayn gets his hands on him.”

They exit the waiting room in search of Liam. He isn’t in the café down the hall, nor is he in reception.

“I checked outside” Niall says, walking to meet the others outside Zayn’s. “Couldn’t see him anywhere.”

“He’s not in the gents.” Harry says.

“Oh well, he’ll turn up. Might as well go ahead and-”

He stops abruptly as a huge crash echoes from inside Zayn’s room. Louis throws open the door, narrowly missing being hit by an empty jug of water.

“Found him.” Niall says under his breath, as he spots Liam in the corner of the room.

“GET HIM OUT.” Zayn screams from his bed, a potted plant clutched in his hand. “GET OUT!”

“Liam, come on mate.” Harry says, and leads him away and down the hall. Mercifully the commotion hasn’t caught the attention of any nearby nurses. Niall goes over to Zayn and manages to pry the plant out of his grip. He is breathing heavily.

“What the fuck? What the fuck is he even doing here? How did he know?”

“He was at your gig tonight.”

“That’s impossible…he moved. He moved to Leeds.”

“He’s back. For about a week now, maybe more.” Louis says.

“Wait...wait. You knew about this?”

Louis swallows, and then nods.

“All of you?” Zayn demands. Louis nods again.

Zayn’s mouth opens incredulously. And then he speaks, and his voice is harsh.

“Get out.”

Niall opens his mouth to protest, but the look in Zayn’s eyes tells them there’s no use.

“I’m sorry.” Louis says, before shutting the door.

They find Harry and Liam outside. Liam is sitting on a bench a few feet from the doors, a cigarette clutched between shaking fingers. His eyes are red from crying.

“He kicked us out.” Louis tells them. “He won’t let any of us see him.”

“Come on Liam, let’s get you home. You look half frozen out here.” Niall takes Liam’s arm but he shakes him off.

“No, no I’m not going anywhere. I’m going back in and I’m waiting until he lets me see him.”

“Come on, man.” Harry says. “You know Zayn, he’s a stubborn bastard when he wants to be.”

“Yeah? Well so am I. And I’m not leaving here until he lets me in. I don’t care if I have to stay the whole weekend, I’m going to go up there and I’m going to wait.”

Louis starts to say something, but he stops. There’s something in Liam’s voice that tells him that he’s deadly serious, and that nothing Louis or the others can say to change his mind.

And he sticks to his word. He spends all night in the waiting room, drinking horrible coffee and biting on his nails. He doesn’t move for the next day either, but spends hours scribbling pages and pages of writing on paper that he managed to steal from the nurse’s station.

The boys take it in shifts to take him food and new clothes. Niall even manages to charm one of the nurses into letting him use the staff shower facilities on the third day in the hospital.

And all the while Zayn refuses to see him.

On the fourth day he lets Harry into his room, but won’t hear a word about Liam. When Harry tells him that Liam hasn’t left the hospital for even a second, Zayn says nothing and pretends to be asleep.

On the fifth day the doctor brings him the results of his second tests, and he lets Louis hold his hand when she reads them. She tells him that they’re looking good, but that he’ll need another scan tomorrow just to be sure. Louis squeezes his hand.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I think I’ll just sleep for a bit.”

Louis kisses him on the forehead and goes to leave. He’s almost out of the door when Zayn calls his name. He turns.

“Is he…is he still here?”

Louis nods.

“He loves you.” He says simplys, and shuts the door.

On the sixth day Liam finishes his letter. He’s taken to sleeping on the hard chairs in the waiting room. If he’d looked exhausted at Zayn’s gig, it was nothing to the state of him now. When Louis goes in to take him a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea, Liam is leaning against the wall looking totally defeated.

“How you doing man?”

Liam looks up slowly.

“Will he see me?” He asks. It’s exactly what he’s said when any of them walk in the room.

Louis shakes his head sadly.

“I’m sorry man…he’s still not ready.”

“I understand.”

Louis digs in his pocket.

“I brought you your phone. It’s fully charged.”

“Thanks, Lou.” Liam checks his messages and then rubs his eyes. “It’s work. They want me to pick up a client from the airport.” He looks torn.

“Come on Liam, you can’t wait here forever. You have to go. Work’s important.”

“Not as important as Zayn.”

“You can’t risk getting fired for that stubborn prick in there. Honestly Liam- go. If he asks for you, I promise that I’ll call.”

“Can you give him this? Please. I know he won’t want it but…but everything I have to say is in there.” Louis takes the paper from Liam and promises that he will. Liam looks mildly reassured.

“I have a few hours but I guess I better go home and shower. Don’t want to frighten the popstar.” He picks up his jacket and turns to leave but Louis stops him.

“It’ll be alright.” He says, and pulls Liam into a tight hug. Liam looks a little stunned, but then smiles weakly and nods.

“I hope so.”

-

Zayn gets his scan early in the day, and Louis waits for him in his room, wishing that the whole ordeal would be over and he could go back to spending his mornings curled up in bed with Harry. Since the seniors had all taken leave for exams and his juniors were all on placements around the city, his schedule had cleared significantly. Apart from a few afternoons a week where he had lectures to give he was wonderfully unburdened. Harry too had less hours, and his days didn’t start until 11, giving him and Louis precious morning time to snuggle and flirt and fuck each other slowly and lazily before they shower. It had taken all of his brotherly affection for Zayn to drag himself out of bed to come to the hospital this morning.

“Zayn needs you.” Harry had moaned drowsily, before turning over and going back to sleep.

Lucky bastard.

He’s thinking about a suitable punishment for his boyfriend (most involving handcuffs and Louis’ tongue) when the doors open and Zayn is wheeled back inside. He thanks the orderly, stands from the chair and climbs back into bed, wincing only slightly.

“How was it?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, fine. I just had to lie there for ages and then they-” He stops mid-sentence. “What this?” He asks quietly, nodding to the folded sheets of paper on his tray table.

“It’s a letter from Liam- just hear me out. He wanted you to have it before he left and I know I should have said no and I know you’re probably angry-”

“I’m not angry.” Zayn says quietly. He runs his finger over the letter. “So he’s gone?”

Louis nods.

“This morning.”

Zayn nods slowly, staring at the letter.

“I can take it away if you want…”

“No.” Zayn’s hand tightens on the letter. “I want it.”

“Okay. Do you want me to leave you alone.”

“Stay.” Zayn says, so Louis does. He sits quietly in the corner and pretends to be interested in Good Housekeeping magazine whilst Zayn unfolds the pages of Liam’s letter.

Christ that boy’s got a lot to say for himself Louis thinks when he sees just how many pages are covered with Liam’s boyish writing. He goes back to learning about stain removal, which is actually quite handy with a boyfriend as clumsy as Harry.

Zayn reads slowly, absorbing ever word. Some pages are smudged with tears, others are creased up, scratched out, covered in corrections.

Never meant to hurt you – stupidest mistake – love of my life – die without you – never again – please – I love you – I love you – I love you.

The words strike Zayn like an axe against metal.

Liam loves him.

Wonderful Liam with his catalogued comic books. Liam with his recipe books alphabetised. Liam who’s devoted to his son, who loves to cook and watch silly movies and listen to Robbie Williams on top volume.

He finishes the letter and sits in silence.

“Fuck.”

Louis looks up.

“Zayn?”

“FUCK! What have I done I can’t believe I’ve been so fucking STUPID!” He’s sitting up in bed, swinging his legs round, trying to stand.

“Zayn, steady on! Where are you going?”

“I have to go and speak to him! Ow!” Zayn winces and collapses back down on his bed.

“Jesus Zayn. You’re in no state to be running round playing Romeo. Not get back into bed before Doctor Marsh has my bollocks.”

“You don’t understand Louis- I need to speak to him. Today. Right now.”

“I’ll call him, alright. I promise. You need to rest or this will be the least of your troubles.” He ignores Zayn’s protest and snatches Zayn’s phone off the bedside table. “Rest.” He commands again, before leaving the room.

He’s not sure whether you’re allowed to use phones in hospitals, but he heads outside just to be safe. He tries searching Liam’s name on Zayn’s phone, but it turns up nothing. He tries again. He scrolls through, but doesn’t see him. He’s about to go back upstairs to Zayn’s room when he spots it.

He who must not be named EVER do not ever call again (Liam)

Louis shakes his head at his friend’s theatrics, and dials the number.

Liam answers on the second ring.

“Zayn?” He asks breathlessly.

“No, sorry. Louis.”

“Oh, Louis. Hi. Is everything alright? Oh god is Zayn okay?” He sounds suddenly panicked.

“Zayn’s fine, he’s fine.” Louis reassures. “He just read your letter actually.” He hears a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“And?”

“And he wants to see you.”

“What! Yes! Oh my god! Shit, shit, no. I’m meant to be leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes shitting shit.”

“Um…shit yeah. Okay. We’ll figure it out. I’ll think of something. Just get OVER here before Zayn has a haemorrhage. He’s already practically climbing out the window to see you.”

“Okay! I’m coming. Shit. I’ll be there soon!” Liam hangs up and Louis laughs. Love is gentle, love is kind, love is blood fucking stressful is what it is. He thinks for a second and then dials a number.

“Niall mate, how do you fancy taking a drive to the airport?”

And that’s how it happens, the epic story of Liam and Zayn’s reconciliation. Or as Niall will forever refer to it- the day he picked up Katy Perry at the airport and got her to kiss his cheek whilst he took his most ridiculous selfie to date. (“The Irish Charm’s never failed me yet.”)

Liam had sped over the hospital, picking up Niall on the way. He’d jumped out of the car, leaving Niall in the passenger seat and the keys in the ignition. He’d run full pelt all the way up to Zayn’s room, almost breaking his neck on a wheelchair in the corridor. When he reached Zayn’s door he thrown it open dramatically. He was ready to give a truly inspirational speech about love and the pursuit of happiness, but all of the physical exertion after days of sleep deprivation left him swaying a little woozily in the doorway.

“Hi.” He said, when he was able to speak.

“Hi.” Zayn replied, shyly.

And in the end matters of happiness and loyalty and love were discussed not through words, but through the fierceness of Liam’s lips on Zayn’s. An unlucky trainee nurse who came by to check Zayn’s blood pressure had walked in on them making out furiously and almost shrieked the place down when she found her patient being straddled by a strapping man without his shirt on. Zayn’s blood pressure reading was a little higher than average that day, to say the least.

It’s only later, after Zayn is discharged and back lying in his own bed with Liam that they talk properly.

“I’ll never forgive myself for being so stupid, Z. Never.”

“It’s okay Liam. It’s okay because I understand it, now. And that makes all the difference.”

“You’re my everything. Never letting you go again.”

Liam nuzzles into Zayn’s neck. Zayn laughs and wraps his arms tight around Liam, marvelling at the heat that is radiating from him.

“Good. Because I love you.” The words are like sunshine in his mouth. He wants to say it a hundred times.

“I love you too. So much. For so long.” They kiss slowly. “Sleep now, doctor says you need your rest.”

“Don’t wanna.” Zayn whines, and it’s totally out of character but also totally perfect. “Wanna do something else instead.” He says coyly and slides his fingers under the waistband of Liam’s boxers. Liam laughs and grabs his wrist gently.

“Tomorrow. We have all the time in the world, remember?”

And they do.

Zayn turns off the light and snuggles into his boyfriend. As he drifts off to sleep he thinks about Liam in a suit, and wonders if people would laugh at first name and surname rhymed.

All in good time.

-

Fate smiles, and sweeps away across the stars.

Two angels watch from the heavens, wishing their task was quite so easy.

“I suppose it’s time then.” Clara says quietly.

“I suppose it is.” Archie replies, his heart heavy.

And as the sun rises on Louis and Harry the next morning, the truth isn’t far behind.

-

Zayn and Liam spend one more day in bed together (sleeping, eating, cuddling, doing things that are definitely not legal in some places in the world- all to the tune of I love you I love you I love you).

Eventually they force themselves to get up and face reality.

Zayn insists that they all go out to dinner.

“To celebrate. We should celebrate.”

“And what are we celebrating?” Liam asks coyly, coming up behind Zayn and wrapping his hands around his waist.

“Me making an honest man of you.” Zayn says, grinning.

“Sounds good to me.” Liam nibbles on his boyfriend’s ear.

Zayn makes the arrangements. He calls Louis first, who is just relieved to hear that Zayn isn’t in some kind of sex coma.

“No, Louis, I’m fine. Li’s been nursing me to health.”

“Kinky bastards.”

“Oh shut up and check Harry’s free would you.” There is some murmured conversation on the other end of the line.

“He says he’s free so long as you and Liam keep your hands in plain view for the whole meal.”

“Shove off. Call Niall would you? I’m just jumping in the shower with Liam.”

Louis makes gagging sounds and says he will. They hang up simultaneously.

-

Liam and Zayn end up being late to their own celebration. Louis, with Harry and Niall in tow, drives over at 7 and parks around the corner from the restaurant. They’re quickly seated and order drinks whilst they wait for the happy couple.

“Sorry we’re late!” Zayn says cheerily, sitting down opposite Louis. Zayn and cheery are normally mortal enemies and rarely seen within 50 miles of one another.

Down the other end of the table Niall and Liam are already stuck into a conversation about some super hero film they both recently saw. Harry shoots a look of pure panic at Louis, who laughs and takes his hand.

Liam insists on ordering champagne, and even Niall can barely pretend to be disgusted by the amount of PDAs that he’s forced to endure for the whole evening. Since Louis’ driving he only has one glass, and sticks to water for the rest of the night. But he laughs as Harry gets slightly tipsy and flushed with the bubbles. Drunk Harry is similar to what Louis imagines a drunk child to be. He lolls against Louis, playfully stroking his face and licking his neck before dissolving into giggles. Zayn’s not much worse, keeping his hand coiled around Liam’s shoulder even when they’re eating. It's impressive and disgusting all at once.

Niall seems content to sip his way through a couple of pints and make hilarious comments about the diners around them.

When they leave the restaurant (Zayn and Harry stumbling), they agree to meet at Niall and Harry’s for more drinks and a FIFA tournament. Niall follows Zayn and Liam to Liam’s car (“sorry mate but it’s way nicer than yours), and Harry and Louis are left alone. Harry takes Louis’ hands and they walk to his car. Harry sings softly and drunkenly as they go. Louis laughs and buckles Harry in when he’s seated, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head before putting on his own belt and starting the engine.

When they get to the flat the others are already there and the door is unlocked. Zayn is sitting practically in Liam’s lap, and although he’s far too big it still somehow manages to look adorable. Louis is suddenly overcome by how happy he is, how content. Harry has managed to be everything without ever being too much. He fills ever inch of Louis’ life whilst simultaneously taking up no room at all. He illuminates him, never suffocating, never smothering.

“What’s up?” Harry asks, suddenly at his side, breath hot in Louis’ ear.

Louis doesn’t answer. Instead he reaches out and pulls Harry to him for a slow and tender kiss. (In Harry’s tipsy state he thinks of the warm stones and salt skin). When they pull apart Harry is grinning lopsidedly, his cheek dimpling inwards in a way that Louis is sure will be the death of him.

“What was that for?” Harry asks.

“Nothing. Just love you. Love you a lot.”

Harrys’ eyes burn.

“Love you.” He whispers, and pads over and sits down ungracefully in the beanbag by the balcony door.

Louis grabs a glass of water from the kitchen and follows him in, squeezing in next to him and kissing the side of his head.

“So, who’s playing who?”

But before anyone can reply there’s a knock on the door. Niall, who’s closest, gets up to answer it whilst Louis and Zayn squabble over controllers.

A deep voice sounds from somewhere in the corridor and Harry’s body stiffens immediately, almost violently. Louis stops speaking at once, shocked by the change. He starts to ask what’s wrong when Harry launches himself to his feet and charges across the room and down the hall to the door. Louis looks at Zayn, whose face is twisted in confusion. The voice speaks again, and then Harry speaks. Louis freezes, trying to hear what’s being said. But even without knowing exactly what Harry is saying Louis can hear the distress in his voice, clear as anything. He gets to his feet, his legs wobbly and weak. He takes a few slow steps across the room.

But before he can go further he hears Harry shout out and then heavy footsteps.

A man enters the room. He’s tall, well over 6 foot, and broad and heavily built. His hair is a rusty brown and his face is dusted in reddish stubble. He looks at Louis, who is frozen in the middle of the room.

Harry comes in close behind him, face stricken and white, hands clenched at his sides. Niall stands next to him, looking sick and confused.

“Lou-” Harry says, but Louis can’t take his eyes off the man. He has a look in his eyes, a look of understanding, certainty. If Louis had been able to tear his own gaze away he would have seen that Harry’s eyes were full of chaos and fear.

“So.” The man says with a thick Scottish accent. “This is pretty cosy.”

Louis doesn’t move. He takes a breath and speaks. There's something coiling around his heart...something cold and black.

“Who are you?” And does he know yet? He can't know yet of course, but something in him begins to tremble with understanding.

The man laughs mirthlessly and turns to Harry. Harry lower lip is wobbling and his hands are unclenched and shaking at his side.

“You didn’t tell them about me, Haz?” The nickname sounds so wrong in the man’s harsh voice. “I’m Hamish. Nice to meet you.” He winks at Harry and then turns back to Louis.

“I’m Harry’s boyfriend.”

Chapter Text

CH16:The One Where Louis Doesn't Know If Harry Is The Bird Or The Boy

Louis’ ears are ringing and his heart feels too big all of a sudden. Nobody speaks for a few moments before Harry suddenly yells out and launches himself at Hamish.

“You FUCK! What the fuck are you doing here?” He raises his arms to push the man but Hamish just laughs and holds him still, big hands curled tight around his wrists. There’s something about watching Hamish touch Harry like that, with so much force and dominance, that makes bile rise in Louis’ throat.  But he can’t move. He can't do anything more than play the same words over in his head.

I’m Harry’s boyfriend.

I'm Harry's boyfriend.

Niall pulls Harry out of Hamish’ hold, and keeps his arm tight around him whilst Harry struggles to suppress violent sobs. Liam and Zayn are standing now too, Zayn close to Louis but not touching him, totally unsure of what to do. Liam’s face is tense and his shoulders are set. He is ready to intervene at any moment.

Niall speaks then, voice low and serious.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are mate, but if you think you can just come in here and act like a fucking big man then you’ve got another thing coming.”

Hamish smiles and raises his hands, his expression mocking.

“Hey, I come in peace. It’s Harry here who tried to start something. You missed me that much, baby?” The last word comes out as a snarl.

Zayn steps forward, eyes black and burning, but Louis holds out his arm to stop him.

“I think we need to talk. You me and Harry.” He's surprised at how level his voice is. Hamish turns to look at Louis, his expression unreadable Harry looks up from Niall’s shoulder to stare pleadingly at Louis, but Louis doesn’t look his way.

“Alright.” Hamish says eventually.

“Niall, can we use your room?”

“Lou-” Harry says and steps forward but Louis holds up his hand.

“Niall?” He says again. Niall nods and squeezes Harry’s shoulder.

“We’ll be out here.” Zayn says. “If you need us.” He looks murderous, but there is something sad in his expression to.

Louis nods curtly at him before marching forward, past Harry, past Hamish, and walks to Niall’s room, leaving the door open for the others to follow him.

When Hamish comes in after Harry he shuts the door and turns towards Louis. Louis doesn’t give anyone else a chance to speak before he addresses Hamish.

“Why are you here?”

Discomfort flashes across the man’s face briefly before he grins smugly at Louis.

“I want what’s mine. I want my money.” He pauses and turns to look at Harry, who is cowering in a corner. “And I want my boyfriend.”

“I am NOT your boyfriend!” Harry yells, stepping forward slightly. “I was never your boyfriend!”

“You still helped yourself to my money though, didn’t you?”

“That wasn’t yours…it was never…” Harry falters and turns to Louis. Louis doesn’t look at him. He can’t. He can’t fall apart right now, not in front of Hamish. Maybe not in front of Harry, not anymore.

“How much? How much money?” Louis asks flatly.

“9 grand.” The man says. 

With that Harry pushes past him and marches out of the door. Louis can hear him pushing his bed forward and pulling things out, drawers open and shut. A few minutes later he comes back, shoebox under his arm and a large envelope in his hand. He shoves them into Hamish’s hands.

“There you go. There’s all of it and more. So you can fuck off now. I don't want anything else to do with you. Go.” Harry’s voice is strained, as though it’s agony to speak.

Hamish checks the money slowly and then nods. He transfers the money from the shoebox into the envelope and stuff it into his back pocket, tossing the box onto the floor in front of him.

“I’ll be parked by the Tesco on Union when you change your mind.” Hamish turns, opens the door to leave, but then turns back. "Pepper sends her love." 

He shuts the door and Harry’s world falls apart.

-

It’s midnight by the time that he’s finished talking and his words hang heavy and dark in the air between them. Louis has stayed on his feet the whole time, refusing to sit by Harry, and now he is exhausted. His eyes hurt and the inside of his mouth is bitten raw. The others had come in after Hamish had left, had stood in the doorway with slack and confused expressions.

Louis had just stared back at them blankly because what else was there to do? He had nothing to tell them, nothing to give.

“We’ll leave you to talk.” Zayn had said eventually and Louis heart had hurt with how much he needed him right then. He needed Zayn to wrap him up and tell him stupid ghost stories and make him eggs and whiser to him that everything was okay. But he had to do this, he had to understand. The door shut and they were alone.

He still couldn’t bear to look directly at Harry, who was hiccupping through fresh tears.

“Talk.” Louis had managed to say. Harry had taken a few deep breaths before he was able to begin.

And now it was told, and nothing was better. Nothing was clearer.

Louis head was a tangled mess and his nails had pressed so hard into the flesh of his palm that he’d drawn blood.

“I have to speak to him again, Lou. I have to know if Pepper’s alright.”

Louis nods. He feels cold, as though he’s stepped into the shade after a day in glorious sunshine. He feels paused, empty. He knows that once he starts to feel this he won’t stop and he’s grateful for the numbness. He is only vaguely aware of Harry standing up and coming towards him, face ashen, arms open.

He flinches and Harry falters, not touching him. He freezes like a ridiculous mime, arms extended. Everything is ridiculous, Louis thinks. Too ridiculous to be real. He’ll wake up soon and laugh as he tells Harry about his dream.

Ridiculous.

“I’ll be back, Louis. I’m coming back, alright?”

Louis nods. Harry sniffs and wipes his face before passing Louis and going to leave.

“I love you. I’m sorry.” He says before he shuts the door.

Something breaks in the air when he leaves and Louis is suddenly shaken. His legs wobble a little underneath him and has to grab onto Niall’s desk to steady himself.

The door opens a moment later and someone comes in.

“Louis.” It’s Zayn. He turns just as Zayn gets to him and gathers him up in a hug. He feels very small, very young again with his best friend wrapped around him.

“Zayn.” Louis manages to say, and his voice is tiny and quiet.

Zayn strokes his hair and kisses his head before pulling back a little to look at Louis properly.

“What the hell’s going on Lou? Who was that guy?”

Louis shuts his eyes and takes a breath.

“Harry…he’s in some trouble. He’s in some trouble and I don’t know if I can help him.”

“What kind of trouble, babe?” Zayn’s voice is soft, but insistent.

Louis shakes his head.

“I don’t- it’s a fucking mess. He’s so deep in it Zayn and I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m doing. He’s lied to me, Zayn. This whole time he’s been lying to everyone.”

Louis knows he’s not making sense and must be frustrating the absolute hell out of Zayn but to his friend’s eternal credit he lets Louis ramble on.

“And there’s this money- and this girl and everything’s fucked. It’s so fucked and I don’t know what to feel. When I woke up today everything made sense and now I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

Something else hits him.

“Shit Niall. How’s he doing? Is he okay? I need to speak to him, he must be driving himself mad.”

“Liam’s talking to him. He’s just confused I think. Well we all are.”

“I feel like I’m in a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.” It’s a cliché and it’s so dramatic but Louis doesn’t give a shit.

He lets Zayn take his hand and lead him out into the kitchen where Liam and Niall are sitting in silence with cups of tea ignored in front of them. They turn to look when Zayn and Louis enter.

“What’s going on?” Niall asks, his eyes heavy and tired.

“Harry’s in trouble.” Louis says and takes a seat.

He doesn’t tell them everything, it’s not his place and he thinks he’d break down if he had to run through some details again. But he tells them enough, tells them what’s relevant.

“Shit. I can't…shit.” Liam says when Louis is finished. “So he’s with him now?”

Louis nods, anxiety knifing at his heart. The thought of Harry alone with that man makes him want to cry. 

I’ll be back, Louis. I’m coming back, alright?  He'd promised. Harry had promised to come back.

What if that was a lie as well? The voice mocks him. He grips his thighs tight.

Across the table is looking down at his lap, his hands clenched on the table top.

Before Louis even has a chance to ask if he’s alright he’s standing up in his chair.

“Fuck!” He shouts. It doesn’t help. He kicks his chair out of the way and storms through into the lounge, angrily sliding open the balcony door and charging out. They hear him shout again, his voice muffled.

“I’ll speak to him.” Louis stands up, shaking a little. It’s 1 o’clock in the morning and Harry still isn’t back. He pushes the thought down and goes out on the balcony himself. Niall is leaning against the railings, breathing heavily. The air is chilly this time of night and goosebumps raise on Louis’ arm.

“Hey.” He says and Niall turns. 

“Hey.” His voice is curt.

They stand in silence for a few moments before Niall talks again. His voice is softer.

“You know the first time I met Harry he was dangling over the edge of a roof trying to rescue a bird that was trapped in a gutter.”

Louis smiles a little at that.

“I thought he was such an idiot, risking his life for some stupid sparrow. Told him as much when he fell and fractured his ankle, but he just grinned at me because he’d got the bloody thing free and it was flying off. We were just sort of…mates after that. He never stopped grinning all the way to the hospital. Even when his mum came and gave him the bollocking of his life he just had this stupid look on his face, like he'd done something important and it was worth the pain." Niall smiles at the memory. "Two weeks later I was up a tree getting some kids frisbee for him. He gets under your skin, that boy."

Louis can only nod in agreement.

"And he never changed, never stopped getting himself into trouble, never stopped caring about things. When we moved here I thought it would be more of the same, him getting into trouble, me being there to fix him up. But then he left. He left and I didn’t stop him. I didn't realise until it was too late. He wasn't the boy the at the edge of the roof anymore, he was the bird.”

“You didn’t know.” Louis offers, quietly. Niall laughs sadly, softly.

“I think I did. I think I knew for months. He'd changed, he'd shut off a part of himself and I was too selfish to see it. I was just doing so well, I was playing music every day and getting all this praise…and I was too busy to see that he was in trouble, that he needed me to ground him. I let him run away from himself for a year because I was too self involved.” He shakes his head and picks at the peeling black paint on the railing. "How didn't I see it, Lou? How didn't I realise the minute he turned up in January that something had happened? He's been my best mate since we were 12 years old and I didn't see it."

“Neither did I.” And Louis knows that he should offer more, but he's got nothing. 

They hug and the conversation is over. They head back inside and Niall grabs them all a beer from the fridge. Zayn is leaning against Liam’s shoulder and their hands are entwined.

Louis takes a long sip of his beer, wondering if his heart will stop hammering any time soon.

“How’s Jack?” He asks Liam, who looks up suddenly, expression dazed.

“Uh, yeah. Jack’s good. He’s with Hol for the next few days. Think she wants to apologise by giving me and Zayn a bit of time together.”

Louis manages a smile.

“Good. I’m glad. Maybe we could meet him soon?”

Liam nods, eyes creasing as he smiles.

“I’d love that. So long as Zayn here decides to keep me around.” Something about the way Zayn smiles shyly and nods sends a strange chill through him. The room is silent for a few seconds. Niall has lapsed back into pensive silence.

“I’ve been where he is, before.” Liam says eventually and Louis stares at him. “I’ve been in trouble. I’ve been in real trouble, so deep that I thought I'd never get out. But I did, and things got better. More than better.” He kisses Zayn’s knuckles. “He’ll be okay. He’ll get through this. You both will.”

The weight on Louis’ heart lifts ever so slightly at these words.

But before he can say thank you the door opens and Harry comes in. 

Chapter Text

CH17:The One Where Rough Is Exactly Right

9 Months Earlier

“Peps come on, you look fine! If you change one more time I’m going to put my head through this wall.”

“I want to look nice.”

“Pepper Miller you always look nice! You’re gorgeous, angelic, breathtaking. I'd say you're definitely the second prettiest girl in this room.”

“We’re the only two people here, Haz.”

“Exactly. Now put the shirt back on and hurry up.”

Pepper throws her head back and laughs, grabbing the red shirt from the bed and buttoning it up. She spins and throws a pose for Harry.

“Will I do?”

He nods and gets up. The room around him is literally covered in clothes. From the floor to the single bed to the desk and the small bedside table, there isn't a square inch not covered by Pepper's many brightly coloured garments. A pair of neon pink disco pants are impressively dangling from the light above her bed. Harry’s certain that Pepper’s whole wardrobe must be scattered around him. How is it possible to have this many clothes? Even by Harry’s standards she’s an outrageous hoarder.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by a bang, and he looks down to see Pepper half sticking out from underneath her desk. She pulls back and rubs her head.

“What are you doing, Peps?” He asks, bewildered not for the first time by her bizarre behaviour.

“I’m looking for my lucky penny, aren't I!”

“And you keep it where, under your desk?”

She shrugs and dives back under, scrambling around for a few seconds before shouting out in victory and smacking her head again. She straightens up, tucking the penny in her bra before smiling at Harry. He can only laugh.

That’s the thing about Pepper Miller, she’s pretty much just sunshine. She'll put you in a good mood whether you like it or not. She’d been the first person that Harry had met when he’d moved into halls at Edinburgh Napier University. He’d just been unloading his second suitcase of clothes when his door had flown open and there was a beautiful girl with dark skin and white teeth beaming at him from the corridor. Her hair was shaved partly on one side, and the rest dyed a dark purple. It was curly and thick and sprung when she moved.

“Hey! I’m Pepper. I’m 1b.” She’d pointed to the door directly opposite from his. The flat was divided into ten rooms, each with their own small en suite.

“Hey.” Harry had stood up from his bags and stepped a few feet closer to him. “I’m Harry.”

“I’m so glad to see you Harry, you have no idea. I’ve been so lonely.” She came into his room, stepping past him and collapsing on his bed theatrically. “Hey, your mattress is nicer than mine.” She bounced a bit to check. “Yep, definitely nicer.”

She looked momentarily scandalised, but recovered her expression when Harry sat down beside her.

“What, are we the only ones here?”

“Yep, pretty much. There’s one boy down the hall- oh God what’s his name…Dan? Dave? Something like that…nope I’ve forgotten.  Anyway, he’s not very friendly. I tried to help him organise his books but he sort of told me to go away and slammed the door. Very rude.” She bounces again, her hair jumping gorgeously.

“So, what are you studying?” Harry was surprisingly disarmed by her, but he liked it. She was funny, welcoming. And since she was the first person he’d met since he’s been in the country he'd be damned if he was going to pass her up just for being a little quirky. He'd reminded Harry of Niall, somehow. Just the freeness of her, the way she seemed to radiate good things. He had pushed the thought of Niall away. They hadn't spoken properly in ages, just a few texts her and there, a couple of facebook comments when Harry had uploaded his travelling pictures. He focused back on Pepper, who was rooting through a bag of his stuff. He asked her the question again.

“Oh, Law.” She said, dropping the bag on the floor and sticking her tongue out in mock disgust. “Don’t know why. I wanted to be a ballerina-” she pointed her toes to demonstrate “-but my Dad said he wouldn’t pay for accommodation unless I did law. What are you studying?”

“Music technology.”

“Hey cool.” She said, turning to face him. “I have literally no idea what that is.”

Before he had time to reply she was on her feet again and dancing her way to the door.

“I’m gunna go and skype my girlfriend for a bit, but let’s go to dinner together? And then we can get epically fucked up tonight.” She walked out into the hall, leaving his door open. She stopped at her own room and turns back to him.

“Elvis. The rude guy down the hall’s called Elvis.” She disappeared inside without another word.

That night when Harry had stumbled home, Pepper's orange lipstick smeared across his forehead, he'd collapsed onto a suspiciously hard and uncomfortable mattress.

But hey, she was sunshine. 

-

“Harry you cannot leave! It’s just getting good. Come on you can’t leave me alone or I’ll end up going back with some total loser. I need a good rebound, Haz. Pleeease.” She drags out the last word, pouting and widening her eyes at him.

“Okay, fine. Fine. But I need at least seven more drinks to make this bearable. They just played Barbie Girl by Aqua.”

“It’s a true classic.” Pepper laughs and orders them both 3 shots of tequila.

Harry grimaces, but keeps going. After a few minutes they take effect and he feels better, more loose and carefree. Pepper is dancing by herself by the bar a few feet away, completely out of rhythm to the music. She still manages to look like an angel.

She stops abruptly and does a forward roll back over to Harry.

Okay maybe more like an alien than an angel.

“Are you having fun, babes?” She shouts in his ear. He nods and takes her hand, leading her out onto the dance floor. He doesn't want to talk, he just wants to act like an idiot on the dancefloor. Pepper naturally obliges him, throwing back her head and shaking her body in a way that would have looked ridiculous executed by anyone else but her.

The ambitiousness of their moves doesn’t go unnoticed long, and soon enough Pepper is dancing closely with a gorgeously tall man. Harry turns to give them room, but someone stops him. He looks down to see that a large hand is holding the top of his arm. The grip isn’t too hard, but any tighter and it might almost painful. He looks up at the owner of the hand and gulps. Looking down at him is a beautifully rugged man with dark red hair and gorgeously thick eyebrows. He smiles at Harry with undisguised lust.

“Hi.” Harry says, nervous for some reason.

“Hi.” The man says in Harry’s ear. He smells like smoke and beer and sweat and oh god Harry hasn’t had sex in months. The man runs his tongue over his own lips and loosens his grip ever so slightly on Harry’s arm.

“What’s your name?”

Harry tells him.

“What’s yours?”

“Hamish.” And he kisses Harry then and the conversation is over. The kiss is rough from the moment their lips touch and Harry is a little startled but quickly adjusts, the alcohol in his system making him confident, and he returns the pressure with enthusiasm. Hamish’s hands go to Harry’s waist and oh wow those are big hands even by Harry’s standards. His stubble rubs against Harry’s skin and it hurts in just the right way. He pulls back briefly to check on Pepper, but he’s barely an inch away from Hamish’s face when he grabs him back, hand on the back of Harry’s head to keep him from pulling away.

And when they get back to Harry’s room there is no preamble, no gentle petting or soft kisses. Hamish tears off his clothes, grabs Harry’s dick tightly and drags his fist up. It’s not long before he’s kneeling behind Harry, one hand pushing him down, whilst the other pushes three lubed fingers into his hole. He fucks him quickly after that, hard and rough, and Harry pushes his face into the pillow to keep from crying out. And there’s no affection in it, no tenderness. It’s hot and quick and deliberate and exactly what Harry needs. He needs to not think, he needs to be fucked into oblivion by someone who’ll probably forget his name in the morning. He needs his head emptied of the past few years, the fuck ups, the failures, the dead end jobs. He needs the fingers in his hair and his mouth, and the rough slaps on the side of his arse.

He grabs the duvet and screams out when he comes, shooting up across his stomach and over the bed. Hamish comes shortly after, gripping Harry’s skin tightly. When Hamish pulls away and Harry is empty he collapses on the bed on his front, panting and shaking. His body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Hamish is still on his knees, pulling off the condom and tying it off before throwing it in Harry’s bin. He flicks on the bedside lamp before standing up and pulling on his boxers. To Harry’s surprise he doesn’t dress himself any more than this. Instead he lies down beside Harry and throws one arm over his back. There’s something possessive in the gesture, strangely intimate without really being intimate at all. Harry’s stomach is sticky, but he can’t be bothered to move. He lies in a fucked-out daze for a while until suddenly he pushes himself up, the sheet sticking to his stomach slightly.

“Shit, Pepper. I left my friend in the club.”

“Don’t worry, guy she was with was a mate of mine. He’ll keep an eye on her.”  

Harry looks down at Hamish for the first time in the light. His back is impossibly broad, and muscles dance and flex under his skin as he talks. There are several huge tattoos which spread out from the sleeve on his right arm and all across his back. Harry is staring. Hamish grins, his head turned to face in Harry’s direction.

“You’re looking at me.” His tone isn't unkind, more matter of face. Harry has literally no idea what he's thinking.

Harry turns his head to look in his lap.

“Sorry.”

“S’alright.” Hamish’ accent is thick, but pleasant. Harry turns the light off and slips his legs under the covers, too tired to try and figure this man out. Hamish makes no attempts to cuddle close to him, but he does put one arm across his stomach, effectively pinning him in place. It doesn’t take Harry long to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-

When he wakes up he is alone in his bed, and it takes him a few seconds to piece together the night. He remembers coming home with someone…his legs and bum are aching and there is a tender bruise forming on his collarbone. He sits up in bed, his head spinning a little, mouth too dry. He fumbles for his phone, finds it eventually on top of a pile of clothes. There are a few texts from Pepper from the night before.

Babe u gone hoem/??

Text meee I’m bringing this guy bback but are u still in Friction??

Guy says u went off with his mate get summmm see u in the rmoning use protection xoxo

He is about to lock his phone when he sees a new name in his call log. At 10:00 this morning he’d called someone by the name of Hamish Ross.

So he had the man’s number. And more importantly, the man had his number. He throws his phone on the bed and walks shakily from his room to Peppers, grabbing a bottle of water on the way.

Pepper’s room is still as messy as ever, and he has to walk slowly to avoid treading on anything. The window is open and a coole breeze blows in. Pepper is still sound asleep, so he climbs into bed beside her and strokes her hair. She mumbles incoherently and turns over in her sleep. He pulls the covers up around him and shuts his eyes.

He falls back to sleep with a bottle of water in his hand and Pepper Miller’s hair in his mouth.

Chapter Text

CH18:The One Where It's Not An Invitation

He doesn’t expect Hamish to call. It’s been two weeks without a word, and Harry’s just about forgetting their hook up. The bruise on his collarbone stayed stubbornly dark for the first week, but is thankfully fading out to yellow. Pepper and Harry had napped until late afternoon the morning after it had happened and when Harry had woken she was throwing up loudly in her bathroom. She came back in looking suspiciously bright and refreshed.

“Morning sunshine.” He checked her clock.

“It’s 4:30. I feel grim.”

“You look grim.” She said. Her hair sticking up all over the place and her mascara was smeared down her cheeks. She still looked lovely, Harry thought.

“Did you have sex in this bed?” Harry asked, laying cautiously back down.

“Yep. And on the desk, and the floor. And the shower. Max was very adventurous. I’m knackered.” She stretched her up above her head and yawned theatrically. Her sunflower tattoo peeked out from underneath her top. On the last night of Fresher’s she had insisted that Harry come with her to get tattooed. Harry figured he was already inked enough that his mother couldn’t get too angry about anymore. She had settled on a sunflower on her hip and abdomen, whilst Harry had chosen a rose on his arm.

His mother had screeched down the phone at him when Gemma had told her what he’d done. You can’t win them all.

“Breakfast?” She had said. And that was that. The evening was forgotten as they laughed over their pancakes and drew smiley faces on their plates with syrup.

But then he wakes up to a text from Hamish Ross, and things begin to change.

The text is innocuous enough, a simple hi how are you?

There’s no harm in responding, and so Harry does. Their night had been fun, afterall. Even if Harry was sore for a few days afterwards. It was a pleasant ache, he’d thought. A tension breaker, nothing more. So he texts back. And then Hamish responds and they talk. It’s nothing earth-shattering, a few overlaps in interests, some flirting. It’s a distraction. Harry doesn’t even plan on seeing him again.

They’re out at The Hive when Harry and Hamish meet again. Pepper had dragged him out, promising him free drinks all night and her vastly superior wingmanning skills. He’d given in pretty quickly, Pepper’s pleading expression notoriously difficult to ignore (she’d somehow charmed the miserable looking servers into giving her double portions at dinner).

It was good to get out. He was too deep in his own head these days, still unable to shake the feeling of failure that had followed him around since he was 18 years old. With a drink in his hand and a loud bassline in his ear he couldescape the voice in his head telling him he needs to grow up, figure things out, stop running.

“You alright babe?” Pepper’s voice is hot in his ear.

“Yeah.” He smiles and takes a swig of his drink. It’s nice being out with Pepper. She’s easy to be around, she’s bright and funny and kind. If he ever falls in love, it’ll probably be with a boy just like her. She’s dressed to kill tonight in a pair of leather trousers, combat boots and a tight red crop top. Her cheek bones are dusted with silver glitter and her lips are smeared purple. She looks like she belongs in a fierce girlband, not studying law at University.

Harry’s own face is sparkling too from when their cheeks have brushed throughout the night. He thought about washing it off in the bathroom, but the sinks were grimy and he figures that it doesn’t look totally bad. Maybe even cute (although this could totally be the alcohol- is it possible to get beer goggles for yourself? He makes a mental note to ask Pepper when they’re back home.) He leans across to ask Pepper if she wants another drink, but she doesn’t reply, eyes locked on something across the room. He follows her gaze and spots two tall figures by the entrance of the club. She turns to Harry, excited.

“He came!” She squeals, adjusting her top. He squints at them through the darkness of the club, and realises who she's been staring at. Max and Hamish. Pepper, in her infinite confidence, waves them over. Max ignores Harry and sweeps Pepper up in his arms, kissing her neck and grabbing her hips tightly. Hamish regards Harry with cool interest, nodding a hello.

Harry smiles back and swallows. There’s something about the man that makes him nervous, but he can’t put his finger on what exactly it is.

Then Hamish speaks, and Harry’s heart jumps in his chest.

“Want to fuck you.” He whispers in Harry’s ear. The words ring around his head for a while before he nods. His mouth is dry.

He tells Pepper that he’s leaving, and she kisses his quickly on the cheek before returning her attention back to Max, who has her in a possessive hold around the waist.

Hamish and Harry don’t talk in the cab ride back to Harry’s halls, nor do they look at each other. It’s only when they’re inside Harry’s room and Harry has turned to lock the door that Hamish even touches him. He grabs Harry’s hips and spins him round so they’re facing each other, then he crowds Harry against the door, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his tight jeans.

The kiss is as rough as it was the first night they met, and as Hamish’ tongue slides into Harry’s mouth he feels a hot rush of desire deep in his stomach, and his hands are in the older man’s hair before his back even hits the door. They moan into each other’s mouths, and stumble backwards towards the bed. Hamish pushes Harry down hard and pulls off his own top before tearing at the buttons of Harry’s shirt and pulling off his jeans and throwing them to the floor.

Harry is breathless, totally naked, with Hamish still half clothed and looming above him in the dim room. Hamish grabs Harry’s hips and scoots him up before flipping him over so that he’s on his front, legs slightly spread. He kneels over him, one knee in between his thighs. He reaches over to the drawer for Harry’s lube and coats his middle finger. Then he leans down to nibble Harry’s arse cheek as he probes his hole with the slick finger. Harry moans, his cock pulsing hotly underneath his body. He longs to touch himself, but for some reason feels frozen in place. He knows that he’s not in charge here.

Hamish takes it agonisingly slowly, only pushing the tip of his finger inside Harry before removing it and rubbing around the hole. Harry wines and tenses under his touch, but Hamish doesn’t go faster. He pushes his finger back into Harry’s heat to his second knuckle, circling it slowly before slipping it out. Harry can’t take it, he’s aching for some kind of release. He pushes himself off the bed slightly, desperate for Hamish’s finger again.

Hamish pushes him down roughly, slapping his bum. It stings and Harry thinks he’s going to black out with how turned on he is. Hamish puts both of his hands on Harry’s cheeks and pulls them apart gently, before licking across Harry’s hole. Harry makes a strangled sound and begs.

“Please…please I need it. Oh god I need it.” He’d never been so teased, so taunted before. Hamish licks him once more before pushing two lubed fingers inside of Harry and pumping slowly. He adds a third before Harry even has time to finish his plea. And then he’s empty and Hamish is rolling him onto his back and kneeling over him, knees either side of his chest. His cock is just above Harry’s face, long and thick and vaguely threatening in this position. Harry gulps and takes it into his mouth. Hamish doesn’t move for a few seconds, before grabbing the base of his own dick and pushing it further into Harry’s mouth. Harry makes  a slight choking sound but knows he can take it. Tears spring to his eyes but he sucks greedily around Hamish. He feels changed, different. He feels owned and dominated and he accepts this persona hungrily, feeling liberated for the first time in months. Hamish leans his body back slightly, and grabs Harry’s cock, fisting it slowly. Harry sucks harder, his spit wet around his mouth. Hamish growls and bites his own lip hard.

“I’m going to fuck you.” Hamish says then, voice hoarse and aggressive and backs away slightly. Harry goes to kneel on all fours but Hamish stops him. “Ride me.” He grabs Harry and spins him onto his lap and Harry is so not used to this, not used to being picked up and thrown around and used and dominated. His cock is throbbing and he’s leaking across his stomach and everything is in such sharp focus. He thinks he might faint from being so turned on. Hamish braces himself on his elbows as he rolls on a condom and  slicks himself up with the lube before massaging more into Harry’s hole, slipping three fingers in and out a few times before steadying Harry above his cock.

Harry’s thighs tremble as he sinks down onto the tip, and Hamish adjusts his body so that Harry can brace himself on his knee when he’s riding his dick. Harry’s own dick is rock hard between them and Hamish strokes him slowly as Harry slides Hamish inside his hole. The combination of sensations fills Harry with ridiculous electricity, and makes his mouth fall open. Hamish lets go of Harry’s dick and lets Harry bounce up and down on top of him, moaning loudly and dirtily.

“Love my dick don’t you Harry. Love my fucking dick so much.” Hamish’ accent is thick with arousal and it turns Harry on like hell. He won’t last long. His dick is throbbing.

“Love it- uh. Yeah love your -uh-dick in me.” His words are punctuated by little moans and Hamish pushes up in appreciation.

“Ride my dick, ride my dick you little slut. You’re my slut aren’t you? Say it.”

“I’m your- uh- I’m your slut. Uhhhh.” Harry says, his orgasm hitting him as he desperately grabs for his cock, tugging at it as he comes. Hamish pushes up fast and deep into Harry as he comes a second later. Harry practically collapses off Hamish, who pulls off the condom and throws it into the bin before flopping down next to Harry. They’re both breathing hard and sweating and totally, totally spent. Harry thinks he could probably sleep for a week. After a few moments Hamish stands up and pulls on his boxers before walking slowly over to Harry’s small bathroom. He comes back a moment later with a flannel and cleans them both, kissing Harry’s forehead quickly before throwing the flannel onto Harry’s desk.

“Thanks.” Harry says, suddenly shy again. There’s something about Hamish that makes him feel small and vulnerable.

Hamish just turns grabs Harry’s boxers from the floor and helps him get dressed before throwing his arm across him and going to sleep. Harry’s too exhausted to think about doing anything more than shutting his own eyes and doing the same. When he wakes, he is alone and his whole body aches. He rolls over in bed and finds a yellow post it note on the wall beside his bed.

Come to mine later. 8pm.

He’d written his address in smaller handwriting underneath and signed it with a simple ‘H’. Harry swallowed. Even in writing he knew that this wasn’t an invitation. It was a command.

When Harry turns onto Hamish’s road at 7:55 later that night he has no idea what to expect. He knows next to nothing about the man who he’s slept with twice, apart from his name and the fact that he likes to treat Harry like a play toy. Harry swallows at the thought, the memory of last night fresh in his mind. He’d never been fucked like that before, never been treated so roughly but also so carefully. Hamish Ross was a mystery, and Harry couldn’t work out if he was excited or scared to find out more.

He knocks on the door and holds his breath. Hamish’ building is right at the end of the street, tall and white, with beautiful wide windows and a deep red front door. The knocker is huge and brass. Hamish’ answers quickly, dressed in a black shirt and tight blue jeans. His hair is shorter than it had been the night before, but his stubble remained unshaved. He doesn’t smile at Harry as he steps back to let him in, but he does kiss him on the forehead before taking his hand and leading him inside. Harry had assumed that the building would be divided into flats, but he realises pretty quickly that Hamish owns the whole place. It is mostly minimalist in style, with its wooden floors and whitewashed walls, but the furniture betrays the extravagance of the place. Hamish leads Harry through to the kitchen, which is bright and large. His appliances are all shiny and sleek looking, and the room smells like spices and roasting vegetables.

“Drink?” Harry nods, realising that he has barely heard Hamish say more than a few words to him, and even then they’d mostly been explicit. Hamish gets out a couple of glasses and pulls out a bottle of wine from a chiller. He pours Harry’s first and hands it to him. Harry drinks, enjoying the tingle of the liquid on his tongue. He thinks that the wine tastes like stardust.

“Thanks for coming.” Hamish says slowly, his own drink untouched.

Harry smiles shyly and strokes a thumb across the edge of his glass.

“I like you, Harry.” Hamish says eventually. The words are oddly empty of inflection, almost emotionless. Harry doesn’t dare look up. He hears Hamish put his glass down and come towards him. “I think you’d like me too, if you gave it a chance.” He tips Harry’s head back and drags his tongue across Harry’s lower lip. Harry’s stomach flips. He nods, unsure of what else to do. Hamish takes the glass out of Harry’s hands and sets it on the side. He kisses Harry once, impossibly gently, before getting to his knees and unbuckling Harry’s belt.

Harry inhales sharply and braces himself on the counter as Hamish pulls down his trousers and boxers to his ankles. Harry is already half hard, and as Hamish takes him into his mouth he stiffens quickly. Everything seems to pulse around him, the kitchen going in and out of focus as Hamish sucks Harry deep into his mouth. When he feels the back of Hamish’s throat he lets out a moan and one hand goes to the back of Hamish’s head instinctively. He freezes, thinking that Hamish will pull it off, but he only hums in appreciation, sucking Harry even harder.

He comes into Hamish’s mouth less than a minute later.

Hamish wipes his mouth and stands up, turning away from Harry and crossing the room to the sink. Harry scrambles to redress himself, still in a daze. Hamish turns the oven down and comes back towards Harry, picking up both of their glasses and walking out of the kitchen and into the lounge. Harry follows, heart pumping hard. He’s suddenly so confused by Hamish, who had always been so dominant, so sexually aggressive before tonight. He wonders if this is all on purpose, if he wants to baffle Harry.

“I don’t understand you.” Harry blurts before he’s even sat down. Hamish turns and regards him quietly. He sets down the glasses and pulls Harry towards him.

“Good.” He says, and kisses him hungrily.

-

And  that’s how it happens, between them. That’s how it begins. There are no questions or answers, no conversations, no statements of commitment. There is only the suggestion of involvement, the possessiveness of Hamish’ body on top of Harry, his lips on his, his growls of “mine” to bind them together. And Harry starts to spend most nights there, talking or eating together or licking unspeakable patterns on each other’s skin. And it’s good, it’s enough. It brings Harry a kind of peace that might be exactly what he needs. Hamish is uncomplicated in his mystery, and he seems to know what Harry needs before he knows it himself. He can sense Harry’s boundaries instinctively, and though he pushes them, he never goes too far. When they are together Harry is not the scared boy from Cheshire who runs away better than he does anything. With Hamish he is a vessel, a singular fleeting moment. He is empty and invisible and transient and that makes him feel as light as air.

He sees Pepper less, too wrapped up in being owned by Hamish on some level that he knows he could never articulate properly. It’s so far from love, so far from actual affection, but it’s still raw and rough and passionate. He’s needed, and that gives him a purpose. He stops going to Uni so much too, attending just enough seminars that he doesn’t fail, but choosing to stay at Hamish’s for most of the week. Hamish spends a fair few hours out of the house every day, but he lets Harry stay there on his own. He never tells him not to touch anything, or to stay out of certain rooms. But Harry is reluctant to make himself anymore familiar in Hamish’s house. So he just lies in bed or on the sofa and waits for Hamish to come home and take him upstairs.

It’s only on the night of the party that he even goes up onto the third floor. Hamish only tells Harry on the Friday morning that he has people coming. Harry isn’t sure exactly what people means, it could mean work colleagues for all Harry knows. He has no idea what Hamish does. Like the rooms of his house, Harry keeps a distance from all the parts of Hamish’s life that don’t directly concern him. On some level he knows that Hamish is dangerous, but he doesn’t care, not when things are still so exciting. So he leaves it well alone.

“Max is bringing your friend, what’s her name? Paprika?”

“Pepper.” Harry says, heart lifting. They’d been texting all week but had both been so wrapped up in their respective relationships (involvements? flings? arrangements? There was really no right word for him and Hamish) that they hadn’t actually seen each other in a week and a half. He doesn't speak anymore after that and lets Hamish undress him and kiss and bite him all over his body. He usually will only leave marks where Harry’s clothes will cover, but today he sucks a bruise onto Harry’s neck. It’s only later when he is alone and climbing outof Hamish’ shower that he realises that he has been marked as property. He puts the thought away with all the other things he doesn't want to think about.

Max and Pepper arrive at 9. They are earlier than everyone else, and Hamish gets them both a drink and invites them to make themselves at home. Pepper squeals when she sees Harry and pulls him into a tight hug before accepting her drink from Hamish and complimenting him on his house. Max doesn’t speak much, but he seems to constantly need to touch Pepper, either by running his hand across her back or circling her wrist with his hand. He and Hamish exchange a few quiet words whilst Pepper and Harry catch up.

“I’ve missed you so much Haz! Been so mad lately.” She says, sipping on her drink and tapping it with her long fingernails. “Swear I haven’t stopped having fun since I last saw you!” Her eyes and wide and shiny, but there is a tiredness in them that Harry hadn’t seen before. She was still sunshine but…it was a different kind of light.

But before he had time to think any more about it the doorbell rings and more people start to file in. One of Max’s friends is a DJ, and sets up quickly in the corner before turning up the volume and blasting music, the bass sending vibrations along the floor and into Harry’s bones. Hamish comes up behind him when Pepper slips off upstairs with Max and pushes another drink into his hands, holding the back of his neck until he’s drunk the whole thing. Hamish keeps his hands on him after that, as Harry’s body starts to fill with light and music and happiness. He feels weightless, lifted, giddy with something more than alcohol. Hamish keeps his hands on Harry and Harry just wants to touch him and be touched. Hamish’s fingers on his skin feel like ice and fire and he laughs and crashes their lips together. Hamish kisses him slowly and when they pull apart he sees that Hamish’s eyes are blown wide, impossibly dark.

It isn’t until Hamish leaves him alone that his mood starts to slip. Hamish had walked away with a man, but had promised to be right back. But he hadn't come back yet, and Harry’s heart was starting to beat hard against his chest. He looks around, the walls closing tight around him, the people looming above, dark and shadowy. He swallows and tries to control his breathing. Someone brushes past him and he jumps, paranoid and anxious. He pushes through the crowd and up the stairs. He opens doors at random, but every room is occupied. So he heads up the flight of stairs by Hamish’s room. He is panicking, not thinking about anything but getting away from whatever threat he thinks is looming behind him. He pauses at the top of the stairs when he hears deep voices. The door is open a crack and he peers through it.

Pepper is lying on a sofa in the middle of the room, head lolling slightly off the edge, eyes flickering a little. Max is sitting on the arm of the sofa, stroking her hair and talking to someone else, someone out of sight.

“She’ll be fine when she sleeps it off.”

There is a pause, and then another deeper voice.

“You need to watch out, if she ODs in my house-” Hamish’s voice. Harry’s head is swimming and he is frozen in place.

“She won’t. I wouldn’t let her. I’m taking care of her, alright. She’s fine. She’s fine.”

“Is this a regular thing?” Hamish asks. Max shrugs.

“Now and then. What’s the harm? Girl likes a good time. I look after her.”

Harry takes a step forward and the floor creaks and he sees Max’s eyes snap to the door. A second later and it flies open and Hamish is standing in front of Harry, glaring out.

“What are you doing  up here, Harry? I told you to wait downstairs.” His voice is even more void than normal and Harry’s heart speeds up until he can hear the blood pumping in his ears.

“I…I just needed you. Is Pepper…what’s happening?” Harry asks. His head is still full of colour and lights and he can’t order his thoughts at all.

“She’s fine. Just had a bit too much. Come downstairs with me, Max has got her.” Hamish tries to take Harry’s arm and lead him downstairs but Harry stays put.

“Too much what?” He asks, hands shaking.

“I don’t know. Too much of everything by the sounds of it. Come on Harry.” He pulls again and Harry goes with him, dumbstruck and speechless, too far gone on whatever Hamish had slipped into his drink to argue.

Instead of leading him downstairs he stops Harry outside of his bedroom and unlocks the door and pulls him inside. He doesn’t speak whilst he undresses Harry, and Harry doesn’t move at all whilst Hamish lays him down and ruts against him.

What blooms in him now isn’t desire at all. It's fear.

Chapter Text

CH19:The One Where She Goes Where He Can't Follow

When he’d woken up the day after the party Hamish had been sleeping deeply beside him, snoring quietly. Harry had been careful not to wake him as he sat up in bed and climbed to his feet. His whole body hurt and a wave of nausea shuddered through him. He had to grab the wall and take a few deep breaths on the way out of Hamish’s bedroom and up the stairs to the third floor. Images of Pepper passed out on the sofa flashed horribly through his mind. But when he’d pushed open the door the room was empty, and there was no evidence that anyone had been up there at all except the empty glass on the floor by the sofa, and one of Pepper’s huge rings half stuck down the sofa cushion. He’d put it in his pocket and crept back downstairs.

Hamish was still sleeping deeply when he’d entered the bedroomroom, but Harry still gathered his things quickly, stuffing them into an old holdall that he found underneath the bed. His clothes were all folded in one corner of the room, and he thanked god for his own neatness as he stuffed them into the bag. When he had everything he could carry he tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs. He stopped to pull on his shoes before quietly opening the door and disappearing outside. His head was still throbbing, but the cool air helped to clear it. He walked quickly back to halls, ignoring the judgemental looks he got from passing students. He hadn’t had a chance to check himself out before he’d left, but he knew he must look terrible, hair messed up and last night’s clothes sleep creased and beer stained. He used his University ID to swipe his way into the building. When he got to his floor he had to dig around in the bag before he found his keys. There was nobody in the communal kitchen, but Jenny’s books were on the table. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water, chugging it until he felt better. Then he slunk into his room and locked the door.

He slid to the floor and buried his head in his hands, feeling small and young and confused. Here he was again, barely a few months into his first year at Uni and already fucking up. He knew without logging into his University email that there’d be trouble. His attendance was appalling, and when he did turn up he was bleary eyed and distracted. He felt like a fuck-up. He wanted to cry and call his mum. He wanted to speak to Niall desperately, but couldn’t face picking up the phone and bringing up his number. It had been too long, and the thought of having to hear about Niall’s success made him feel cold. He crawled over to his bed, pulled the curtain shut beside him, and slept for 19 hours.

He hadn’t seen Pepper when he’d woken, though he’d sat outside of her door for fifteen minutes knocking. Her phone went straight to voicemail, and none of the other’s in their flat had seen her. He had a disciplinary hearing on Wednesday, which loomed over him all weekend. He’d gone out sober Monday night, gone to Pepper’s favourite club, but hadn’t seen her. A cold knot of panic was forming in his stomach, but he pushed it down. It was Pepper. Pepper was sunshine, she was brave and beautiful and resilient. Wherever she was, she was fine. But he had to find her.

It’s Wednesday afternoon when he gets the call, half an hour before he’s supposed to meet with the heads of the music department to decide his fate. He’s dressed ready in a smart shirt and black jeans, and has  splashed his face with water to try and force some colour to his cheeks. He still looks drawn and pale, but he could always try and pass that off as nerves, or remorse of some kind. He has no idea what he was going to say, he can’t even really bring himself to care, not when he hasn’t heard from Pepper in almost a week. He’s just getting up to leave when his phone rings in his pocket and he pulls it out. He’d deleted Hamish’ number the minute he’d woken up from his sleep, but something in him churns when he looks down at the unknown digits on his screen. He holds the phone in his hand for a while whilst it rings, breath catching. At almost the last moment he presses answer and holds it to his ear.

“Hello.” He says quietly. There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds.

“Hello Harry.” Hamish eventually responds, voice cruel. Harry’s hand curl into a fist and he bites his lip white as he waits for him to speak again. “Long time no see.”

“Where is she?” He knows then, somehow. He knows that Pepper isn’t safe and that Hamish is to blame. Hamish who he had brought into their lives, Hamish who he had allowed to distract him whilst his best friend was in danger. And it suddenly makes him feel sick to think about everything that they had done together, Hamish’s large hands on him, pushing into him, pinning him down. It had been fucking in the worst way possible. Harry’s stomach turns as Hamish chuckles harshly down the line.

“Some girls just don’t know when to stop.” And the line goes dead. Harry barely makes it to the sink before he throws up. He sits trembling on the floor for a few moments whilst he considers what to do. His thoughts are racing and he feels bile rising as he thinks about Pepper. He staggers to his feet and takes a drink straight from the tap. His throat burns but he feels marginally better. He looks at himself in the mirror, counting slowly to ten as he calms himself. It was something that his mum had taught him to do when he felt himself losing control on his anxiety. Deep breath in, deep breath out. His hands steady a little bit and he feels more in charge. He goes out of the bathroom and climbs onto the bed to open the window, the rush of cold air helping quell his nerves further.

He needs a plan.

From the phonecall he can gather that Pepper is at Hamish’, or that he at least knows where she is. He thinks about the last time he’d seen her, drugged out of her mind and vulnerable. He thinks of Max stroking her hair, talking about her like a misbehaved child and he feels anger bubble in him. He hates Max in that moment, hates him for letting Pepper get involved in something like that. She was so bright and bubbly and fun, but also strangely vulnerable. Also strangely weak when it came to certain people. He also hates Hamish too for being so fucking cold and callous that he could see a girl so taken advantage of and only care about his own fucking self.

But mostly he hates himself. He hates himself for being so caught up in Hamish that he’d totally missed all the signs that Pepper’s light was going out. He should have known, should have seen it in her eyes when they'd been around each other. He’d been too busy trying to fill the empty hole in himself that he had neglected her entirely.

But he would change that now. He grabs his keys and jacket from the desk and hurries outside. It’s December now and the wind is bitter and cruel. He pushes his hands deep into his pockets as he walks off campus and into the city. The city is wrapping in on itself, and a thick fog is rolling in. He passes a street performer singing Elvis Presley whilst he plays an accordion. Harry throws some change into his case, not slowing down. He prays that it will curry some favour with the Universe, but he knows that he’s in too deep to come out of this unscathed. He just needs Pepper to be alright.

He turns onto Hamish’s road, ignoring the pounding of his heart in his chest. When he gets to the end of the road he hesitates outside, half hidden behind a bush. He breathes in and out a few times before walking quickly towards Hamish’s house. He doesn’t go to the front door though, instead he ducks to the side and pushes quietly through the gate that leads around the house and into the back garden. He’d used it once or twice when Hamish had left the front door locked and Harry had to go to Uni, or back to halls for more clothes. He pauses at the back door and peers into the kitchen, looking for signs of life.

He sees nobody.

There is an open bottle of vodka on the counter and a pile of dishes in the sink. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the key, turning it as quietly as possible in the lock. He’d never meant to take it. It was only when he’d woken up from his long sleep after the party that he’d found the key in his jacket pocket, forgotten from when he and Hamish were still- well, still fucking. That was all they ever were, Harry realises now. There was nothing that would form the basis of a relationship, nothing that he liked about Hamish at all. He had just been a vacuum, white noise. He’d allowed Harry to feel numb whilst also keeping his head above water.

He shuts the door softly.

The house is eerily quiet, but Harry knows that Hamish is here somewhere. It’s not even that the man’s sleek white car still outside that tips him off. It’s subtler that that, it’s just a sense that Harry has. There is a danger hovering close, and Harry’s heart thumps harder as he walks from the kitchen towards the stairs. He looks into the lounge, but it’s empty. There are take-away containers scattered about the place, an upended bottle of wine on the rug. He takes the stairs one at a time, listening closely for any sound.

He pushes the door to the bathroom open, empty. Same with the spare bedroom and Hamish’s office. It’s only when he reaches Hamish’s bedroom that he pauses. The door is slightly ajar, but not open enough that Harry could put his head through and actually check. And he knows the house well enough to know that the door creaks loudly when pushed. He puts his ear as close as he can to the door and listens. For a moment he hears nothing, too overwhelmed the sound of blood rushing in his ears. But then he picks it up, the gentle whistle of somebody breathing inside.

His hands start to shake and he pushes the door open before he has time to think.

It’s Pepper, and he knows before he has even rushed over to her that she’s not okay. She’s lying on her back, head tipped at an awkward and uncomfortable looking angle. Her hand hangs off the bed and her fingers twitch slightly. There is a faint dribble of vomit from her mouth to her chin, and her eyes are underscored with purple. He kneels at her side and shakes her gently, tears in his eyes. He had known it would be bad but this…she looked like a junkie that you’d see on a hospital drama on television, all sickly and awful looking. She doesn’t wake up, but makes a soft moaning sound as she shakes her harder.

“He dropped her off this morning.”

Harry spins around, hands still clutching her shoulders. Hamish is leaning in the doorway, looking down at the scene with cool detachment. He drops his gaze to pick at one of his nails before training his eyes back onto Harry.

“Max. He got bored of her apparently, she stopped being fun. She was doing my head in too, kept asking to go to the hospital, said he’d given her something. I got sick of hearing her in the end and slipped her some Valium. She’s been out cold for a while.”

Harry’s voice shakes when he speaks.

“You’re a fucking monster.”

Hamish laughs.

“That’s no way to speak to your boyfriend, babe.” Harry flings himself to his feet and flies at Hamish then, full of fury. He manages to push him roughly, the element of surprise working in his favour. Hamish stumbles back a step before steadying himself and looking at Harry with rage in his eyes. He grabs Harry by the neck and presses him to the wall, grabbing his head and slamming it hard. Harry’s eyes fill with tears at the pain and he struggles against Hamish’s grip. Hamish throws him roughly to the floor, into a pile of things by the desk. Harry feels a crack in his chest and his mouth tastes like blood. Hamish circles him a few times, using his foot to turn Harry over onto his back. He looms over him, leering down with murder in his eyes, and Harry wonders if he knew that he was a monster all along.

He starts to whistle as he kicks Harry, his face remaining passive and blank as he smashes his boots into Harry’s torso. Harry’s body shakes with pain as he tries to protect himself, rolling into a ball and holding out his hands in a useless attempt to lessen the blows. He feels parts of himself break, hears the sharp crack of fractured bone.

Hamish keeps on whistling, the pain keeps coming.

He knows he’ll lose consciousness soon, and if Hamish doesn’t stop then he’ll slip away completely. He thinks he hears a voice in his ear, soft and clear as bell, but he can’t make out the words. The last thing he sees before he blacks out is Pepper appearing behind Hamish with a thick book raised in her hands, ready to bring it down on the bastard’s head.

He smiles a little as he slips into darkness.

-

When he wakes he is in a moving car and it’s dark. He tries to sit up, but his head swims and rings with pain. He groans and collapses onto the seat.

“He’s awake.” He hears someone say. Breathing is agony. He opens his eyes and stares upwards. He feels a hand on his arm, and a voice closer.

“Harry. Harry it’s me, it’s Pepper.” She sounds more vulnerable than he’s ever heard her. He tries to speak but the words won’t come. It feels like the worst hangover he’s ever had multiplied by about a million.

“We’re going to the hospital, okay. Hang in there we’re almost there babe.” He nods a little and passes out cold.

-

When he wakes for the second time he’s in a bed, and everything is bright white around him. He finds that he can breathe a little easier and his head doesn’t feel quite so broken. He opens his eyes a crack, waiting for them to adjust to the light before he opens them all the way. He is alone in a room, and there is an IV stuck into the thin skin on the back of his hand. He tries to ignore the queasy feeling it gives him. He sits up a little and looks around. There is a cup of water on the side of the bed and he picks it up gingerly and sips from it. It tastes like heaven. He thinks back, remembering Pepper’s voice in the car. Further back still and he thinks of her stretched out on Hamish’s bed, and then Hamish kicking the living hell out of him. He flinches at the memory.

The door opens and he turns. Pepper pauses when she realises that he’s awake, and shuts the door slowly behind her. She walks closer and he realises that she has tears in her eyes.

“Harry I- I’m so sorry.” Her lip wobbles and she breaks down in floods of tears. He grabs for her hand as she collapses into a chair by the bed, squeezing her fingers gently.

“Peps what are you- don’t you dare apologise. It’s not your fault it’s not- it was never your fault. Hamish and Max were monsters, this is not your fault.”

“Oh Harry I just- I thought he’d killed you. I thought- fuck when I woke up and you were on the floor. I just thought.  So I smacked him with that book and called the police." She pauses to get her breath. "Fuck how did I let myself get involved. Max was a fucking arsehole, the fucking worst, and I didn’t realise. I only took the pills to make him happy, fuck I was such an idiot.”

She drops her head onto the mattress and sobs. He strokes her hair softly with his other hand, though it hurts to twist his body.

“I was too. I let myself get caught up with Hamish when I knew nothing about him. It was just…it was just so easy to lose myself to him, you know? Like, I was unhappy with myself but I didn’t want to face it so I just hid.”

She looks up, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

“I know what that feels like. I think I was kidding myself that I was fine with breaking up with Chloe, but I wasn’t. I haven’t been okay for a really long time.” A tear slips down her cheek and Harry swipes it away with his thumb.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright. Everything’s okay now.”

She sniffs again and shakes her head, fresh tears pooling.

“Harry they want us out of halls. By the 16^th of January. We have to go.”

His hand stills on her face and his smile dies.

“Fuck. Fuck I had my meeting- fuck.” He can’t process, can’t think. “We fucked up pretty bad then, huh?” He tries to keep his voice light but it doesn’t work. She nods and sobs a little. They sit in silence for a while until Harry speaks.

“Who brought me here?”

“I hailed a cab. I couldn’t wait for an ambulance, and the police weren’t there yet…and I panicked. I was so worried you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Do the police…do we have to speak to the police?” She nods tight-lipped.

“Yeah they want to…they want to go over some stuff. But Harry they…they didn’t catch him.”

Harry sits up quickly and stares at him. “Wait they...what?”

“By the time they got there he had gone.” She says, wiping her eyes on the back of her hands.

“Fuck.” He says, and sinks back into the pillow.

-

The police come by a while later, and ask him endless questions. He tells them everything that he can, which in the end isn’t much. He knows nothing about Hamish, nothing about his job or who his friends are or even how old he is. He tells them about what happened, going to the house and finding Pepper. He tells them about Hamish’s attack. He only loses his temper once, when one of the officers looks down at his notes and asks him how he got inside the house.

“I used a key.”

“And did Mr. Ross give you the key himself, or did you acquire it by other means?”

“What does that matter? My friend was in trouble who cares if I kicked the bloody door down?”

“Mr Styles.” The other officer had said warningly, “We’re only doing our jobs. Now could you tell us again about what kind of car the gentleman in question drives.”

This had gone on for another hour before a doctor comes by and tells them sternly that Harry needs his rest. They tell him that they’ll keep an eye on him until they’re certain that Hamish has fled the area for good. They take his details and leave. The doctor checks his vitals, before giving him some more painkillers and telling him to sleep.

-

When he’s discharged from the hospital he’s unsure at first what to do. He’d refused to call his mum and tell her what had happened. He was too used to disappointing her that he couldn’t bear to do it again. He couldn’t tell her that he’d been kicked out of Uni, couldn’t tell her that he’d had his ribs cracked by a man that he’d been sleeping with.

When Pepper comes to meet him he’s slouched on a bench outside, trying not to cry. She pulls him into a tight hug and helps him into a nearby cab. When they get back to halls they are greeted by awkward looks from their flatmates. Pepper ignores the whispers from the hall as she helps Harry to his room, slamming the door before helping him into bed. She gets him a drink of water and a packet of crisps from his cupboard before climbing into bed beside him.

“We’re pretty screwed then, Styles?”

“Pretty much.”

She pulls up his laptop from the floor and finds them a movie to watch, saying that they can worry about sorting their lives out tomorrow. They fall asleep curled around each other.

When he wakes up she is gone, and there is a crisp stuck to his face. He gets out of bed slowly and limps to the bathroom. Washing is a struggle, and it takes him an extra half an hour to get his hair completely rinsed of shampoo. He’d had quite a shock when he’d undressed himself and looked in the mirror. His torso was a canvas of purple and yellow, and there were only a few small patches of un-bruised skin.

He was glad he hadn’t told his mum now, as this would probably have sent her over the edge.

When he steps out of the shower and back into his room he finds that Pepper is back, and has brought a selection of sandwiches for breakfast. He dresses as quickly as possible in a soft jumper and some joggers before sitting down carefully back on the bed.

“So.” She says, handing him a sandwich. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He looks at her, sandwich held still in his hand. “What? What’s happened now?”

“It’s not…it’s nothing to worry about but- okay.” She reaches to the floor and pulls her bag into her lap, digging around it for a moment before pulling out a large brown envelope. Harry narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

It’s only when she pulls out a handful of banknotes that he reacts. He drops the sandwich into his lap and gawks at her.

“Pepper! What the fuck is that?”

“Nine grand in cash from Hamish’s study.” She says the words quickly, biting her lip as she stuff the money back into to the envelope.

“How the fuck…I mean…why have you got that? Did you steal that from him?” His voice is laced with panic.

“Yeah, so? That fuck had it coming. God knows we deserve it. Look at what he did to you Harry- look!”

He is too stunned to speak. He picks at the sandwich in his lap, which had sort of fallen apart when he dropped it.

“You should have it, Harry. After what he did, you deserve it. You can get a fresh start.”

“Nine grand? Peps I wouldn’t know what to do with that much money.”

She continues to gnaw on her lip.

“Let’s go away. Let’s get out of here. We can split the money 50/50, we can get out of this shit-hole and go and- and- I don’t know! We can just live.”

He looks at her hard for a few moments, mind racing.

“I can’t run away again, Peps. I can’t. I’ve already tried it once and it didn’t work.”

“I can’t stay here Harry.” Her eyes fill with tears and she puts her uneaten sandwich down on the bed and rubs her face with her hands.

“You don’t have to, babe. You can take this money and go anywhere you want to. Anywhere.”

“But you can’t come with me.” She says quietly. He shakes his head.

“Not this time. Not this time.” She launches herself at him and wraps her arms around him tightly.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Styles. You know that? You’re a fucking angel, you hear?”

He nods into her hair, the tears already spilling. They pull apart a bit and he kisses her cheek gently.

“You go and find your heaven, alright Pepper Miller? And then you come find me.” She nods and they hug again, holding onto each other as tightly as if they were the last two people on earth.

She leaves the day after Christmas. Harry doesn’t go home for the holidays, instead he tells his mum that he’s gone skiing with friends and won’t be back until January. She’s disappointed, but tells him to have fun and that her and Gemma will see him in the New Year. He clears his things out of halls, rents out a cheap storage space for the things he can’t carry, and packs the rest in bags. Pepper keeps her room just as it is, telling Harry that she plans to call her Dad at the beginning of January and that he’ll pick up the rest of the stuff.

“That or he’ll just burn it.” She had said, with a tired grin. Harry had just hugged her tight and got on with his own packing. They spend whole of Christmas day lazing around in bed together, watching holiday films and eating Chinese take-away and Christmas chocolates. His mum had sent him his presents early, and he had opened them with a lump in his throat. Niall had sent him a card with a naked Santa on the front, and the message had made him want to cry.

Come see me soon, Haz. I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.

The words had played in his head long after he had opened the card. He even thought about them after Pepper had gone, and he was alone in their building. He had spent New Year’s alone in a bar, drunk on tequila, and wondering where Pepper was in the world. She had booked a one way ticket. He hadn’t asked where she’s going, he had just told her to not look back.

He had woken up on Boxing day morning to an empty bed and an envelope of money on the side of his bed.

He’d booked the earliest ticket he could find to Manchester and waited. 

Chapter Text

CH20:The One Where Harry Wants To Feel Lucky Again

Harry had stood outside of the flat for a few seconds, his head pounding and his stomach rolling. He had given himself 20 seconds to totally fall apart, to clutch his hair in his hands and lean against the wall and sob dryly before he forced himself to pull it together and put the key in the lock.

When he opens the door and the room falls silent. His friends are sitting at the table, faces pale and tense. Liam and Zayn are cuddled close and Niall has his hand wrapped tightly around a bottle of beer.

Louis looks empty and frightened, older than Harry's ever seen him, but also younger somehow. Small and vulnerable.

Harry takes off his jacket and hangs it carefully on the hook, then puts his keys in the bowl by the door. 

Zayn and Liam exchange a look, and then Zayn stands.

"We should go. Liam?" He looks at his boyfriend, who nods and stands too. Zayn kisses the back of Louis' head and squeezes Harry's shoulder. Liam gives them all a quick hug before grabbing his things. The door shuts again and there is silence between the three left. Niall looks between his friends, visibly torn. 

Then he stands up too, grabbing his bottle of beer.

"You two sort this out, alright?" He says, and goes to his room without another word.

Louis hasn't looked at Harry once since he got back, and this tears Harry's heart into even smaller pieces.

"We need to talk." Harry says, voice hoarse. Louis nods and stands, walking past Harry and out into the corridor. He waits for Harry by his door, as though needing some invitation to enter. This act of unfamiliarity cuts Harry like a knife. He opens the door and steps inside.

Louis shuts the door but makes no effort to come any further into the room. Harry steps towards him, but stops. He lets his hands fall to his side.

He thinks of the last time that they'd been here together. It had been a Friday, and they'd gone to support Niall at the Quiz Night. They'd all drunk far too much, and talked far too loudly and got none of the questions right after the third round. It was one of Zayn's first night's out post-Liam, and they were careful not to be too obvious with one another, even vowing not to kiss or touch until they were out of his sight. Louis had gotten up to go to the loo halfway through the night, and when he was gone Zayn had leaned in close to speak in Harry's ear.

"How do you get someone to look at you like that?" Harry had been startled at first, but then he'd caught Zayn's sad smile and had smiled back.

"By being far luckier than I deserve." Zayn had just sat back in his seat and carried on smiling. When Louis had come back Harry and pulled him close and kissed him for all he was worth. He'd felt like the luckiest man on the planet. When they'd gone home together that night he had lain Louis out on the bed and kissed every inch of him he could reach. Lucky lucky lucky. 

The silence between them now is dense and suffocating. It should be blissful, Harry thinks. They should be falling back into Harry’s bed now, clumsily undressing one another, lips tasting like champagne and the rest of their lives.

But they aren’t and the thought smothers Harry but he can’t bring himself to speak, not yet. He needs a few more uncertain seconds before he says the words and breaks two hearts.

Louis can't break the silence either. He knows already what Harry’s going to say, but he doesn’t want to believe it. He walks past Harry and stands by the side of his bed. He picks up the photoframe from Harry's nightstand, runs his finger along the sharp edges of the glass. It had been a present from Niall, and the picture it holds is of the two of them at school, drowned in uniform that doesn't yet fit, grinning toothily at the camera.

He turns to Harry and smiles sadly.

They breathe in once together and then Harry speaks.

 “I have to go.”

The words float around in Louis’ head for a while, trying to find meaning. They fail. He clears his throat. His arms feel as though they’ve come unattached from his body and are now floating free in space. Words settle on his tongue like snowflakes but he swallows them.

“Say something, Lou. Say something please I haven’t got long.” Harry sounds desperate. Louis can work this much out. There’s something else in his voice too. Fear. And Louis’ heart starts to beat a little faster though his brain is still unable to process what on earth his boyfriend is talking about. Understanding cuts through him.

The photo frame slips through the air, the safety glass shattering into one hundred crystal shards. His foot presses down slightly and he hears the crunch of glass underfoot. He looks down numbly.

He creaks back to life and walks past Harry and out into the hall. He opens the cupboard, extracts the dustpan and brush before coming back and calmly crouching down and sweeping up the broken glass.

Harry takes a step towards him, little sobs escaping from his lips.

“Careful.” Louis says, voice empty and robotic. “You might cut yourself.”

“Louis.” Harry whines. “Louis look at me please.”

He finishes sweeping and straightens up. He lays down the dustpan and brush on the bed. Harry is hovering by the door face stricken and white.

 “Go on then, make it quick.” Louis hears himself. He feels like he is watching the scene from above. He is weightless in the worst possible way. He is void.

“Please don’t…I can’t…Lou I have to do this. I wouldn’t unless I had to, baby please believe me. Please believe me I have to go to make it all better. I’ll make it all better and then I’ll come back and- and” Harry has to stop to swallow a sob and wipe his eyes. His voice is hoarse and it would hurt Louis to hear it, he thinks, if he could feel anything but this white heat in his heart. “-and I’ll fix everything Louis, alright, alright? I just have to go back for her. One week. I have a plan but you just give me one week to fix this. Then I’ll be back and it will be perfect again.” He wipes his nose on his sleeve.

Louis doesn’t speak, he doesn’t nod. He doesn’t even blink. The fist around his heart squeezes experimentally. He doesn’t flinch.

He wonders when Harry had taken hold of his arms.

“Please Baby. Baby listen I’m sorry. Talk to me, talk to me. Hit me I don’t know, anything.” His fingers dig in. “I don’t want to go, but I don’t know what else to do. I love-”

“No.” And Louis is back on Earth and his body is ringing with no no no. “Don’t you dare.”

And Harry sobs again, tears making fresh tracks. His lips look a little cracked, Louis thinks. He’ll need to get some chapstick on them before he bites them and makes them worse. Harry can never just leave things alone, he has to pick, to probe, to nudge things into life that were always better off untouched. Harry’s face is buried in Louis’ neck and Louis still hasn’t moved. He feels rooted in place, his veins full of something too cold to be blood. He feels himself disassociate with the scene, drawing inwards and outwards all at once.

And then Harry’s phone rings in his pocket and he shivers back to life.

He cries out, and he is too full, too hurt, too angry. Too much too much too much. And Harry can’t fix it this time. He just wants Harry gone, because he was never someone who could wait for punishment. Get it over with, Louis. He thinks. Get it done.

“You’ve lied to me! You’ve fucked it. Get out.” He says, grabbing Harry’s arms and pushing him firmly away. Harry’s eyes are bloodshot and his eyelashes cling together with tears. “Go.” He says, but his voice aches and tears run down his cheeks in streams. Harry rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, but he’s crying and then Louis is crying and the world is coming apart around them. Harry’s hand wraps around the back of Louis’ neck, large and reassuring and hot and Louis crumbles, falling into Harry and pressing his face into his chest. He shakes his head, his sobs muffled in Harry’s shirt. And then they’re kissing and Harry tastes like salt and smoke and goodbye. It is desperate and messy and Louis’ hands are too rough in Harry’s hair and Harry’s fingers are too tight around Louis’ neck and then it’s over and the air between them burns.

“One week.” Harry says, and walks out of Louis' life.

Chapter Text

CH21:The One Where The Good Ones Go To Wait

1993

Clara stretches out on the grass, knotting the long strands between her fingers. The sun blazes overhead, warm, but not too hot. She shuts her eyes and colours dance. There is music playing, a band a few hundred yards away, a few old men and their instruments. It's pleasant enough,anyway. Children shriek, running in circles, drunk on sugar and the freedom of summer. Clara smiles to herself. She’s 21 years old, and her future is sparkling out in front of her, full of possibility and infinite joy. She rolls over onto her front, opening her eyes and picking up her book again. She finds her page and reads a while, enjoying the steady heat of the sun on her back.

She looks up when she hears her name.

She sees her boyfriend Gus coming towards her across the park, bag swinging by his side, dressed in one of his ridiculous baggy shirts, with his jeans tucked into his doc martens. His hair was pulled up into a small ponytail on top of his head. She always poked fun at him for that, but he said it kept him cool and did that dorky grin that meant she couldn’t hold anything against him.

“Hey love.” He reaches her and drops to the floor ungracefully, kissing her on the back of her head. She closes her book and sits up to greet him properly, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips. She wrinkles her nose.

“You smell like chemicals.”

He winces in apology, then grins wide.

“Sorry, been in the lab all day. Dissecting people.”

“Urgh, already too much information.”

He laughs and flops down on the grass, pulling her with him so her head is resting on his chest. His head beats soft as moth wings in his ribcage, and she breathes him in. Chemical or not, he always smells like home to Clara. Gus starts to hum, tapping out the rhythm on her shoulder.

“Do you think we should move in together?” He says casually as anything. She stiffens. He continues to hum. Tap, tap, tap.

She sits up and stares at him. He blinks happily back.

“Are you serious?” She asks, skin tingling at odds to the heat.

“Of course. Why, you think it’s crazy?”

She thinks for a moment, picking at the grass.

“Yes.” She says quietly.

“Yes it’s crazy?”

“No, yes I think we should move in together.”

His face twists into a lopsided grin. It’s such a Gus thing to do to be so nonchalant and casual about such a big decision and she can’t help but beam back at him.

“Cool.” He says, and pulls her back down so he can kiss her some more.

She's still thinking about it later, as they’re walking hand in hand towards the pub. She’s already mentally picking out her favourite locations around the city, thinking about furniture and colour schemes and wallpapers. Her mother would be thrilled, her dad too. They love Gus, have done since she’d first brought him home in her second year at University. She loves Gus too, more now than she had ever, hopelessly, crazily.

Their hands break apart for a moment as he stops to look at one of the market stalls set up along the wide pavement. She adjusts her shoe strap, leans against a lamppost as she reaches into her bag for a bottle of water. They should stop in at the shops on their way home, get some things. She’ll make a special tea, a roast perhaps. No, it’s too hot for a roast. A salad, maybe. That would be better.

Beside her a child cries out and she turns. A little boy in a pair of blue dungarees and a white t-shirt is looking forlornly forward, his little hand outstretched. She follows his gaze and sees a scrap of paper blown out into the road. His mother is distracted with another child, so Clara smiles at the boy and walks out to fetch it, still writing a shopping list. A greek salad might be nice, although Gus would probably whine and demand pizza. She smiles as her hand closes around the paper.

She straightens up, turns back, the boy doesn't smile, he's looking at the car that's hurtling towards her. 

The force knocks the world out of kilter and her vision goes black.

The paper is still clutched in her hand when they take her away.

-

Clara starts. She’d been napping in the inbetween, head rested against Archie’s shoulder. He turns to look at her, worry lining his face.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” She wipes the sleep from her eyes, trying to dislodge the memory too. She’d been having more and more dreams like this, ever since last month when she’d gone to see him. She hadn’t meant to, had always vowed never to try and find him. But then Harry and Louis had come together finally and she felt…she felt that she could handle it. But then she’d seen him, her Gus, and realised that he wasn’t hers anymore, he was someone else’s. He was someone’s dad now, she had realised, her breath catching. Someone’s husband, too. And she was just some old girlfriend that he had forgotten. His daughter had turned to grin at her in that same lopsided way that Gus had used to and she had felt her heart open up again inside her. She had blinked out of existence, and left the child there, reaching out to empty air.

“Bad dream. I was thinking about…I was thinking about before. Before this.”

He nods, understanding.

“Anything you want to talk about?” He asks, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her neck lightly.

“What happened to you, Archie?” She asks, all but ignoring his question. He stills a little, but doesn’t pull away.

“I got sick. It was before…it was a long time ago. I thought it was the flu, but things got worse and then before anyone could do anything about it, I was gone.” He holds his breath for a moment, wondering if she’ll notice the untruth in his voice. She doesn’t. She just nods sadly, breathing in his familiar scent.

“It’s just hard, sometimes, that’s all. Watching them mess it up. It’s like they don’t understand how lucky they are, Arch. They get to live, they get to be together, and they don’t see how amazing it all can be. And Louis just let him go. He just let him walk out and I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can love someone and let them go.” Her voice is raised, and she realises that she isn’t talking about Louis and Harry at all anymore. Tears are brimming and Archie captures her hands in his and kisses her knuckles lightly.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Harry will come back. Don’t be too hard on Louis. It’s not easy for the ones left behind either.” She knows that he too, isn’t just talking about the boys.

She smiles sadly and leans back into him, shutting her eyes again and thinking of sunshine and summertime.

Chapter Text

CH22:The One Where Everything Can Change In A Week

Day One

When Louis wakes the sun is rising. For a blissful moment he forgets the night before, and stretches out beside him for Harry. His fingers clasp at empty air and his eyes flick open and it’s only then that he remembers. His body stills and he slumpsback down into the mattress. He’s in Harry’s bed and everything smells so torturously of the boy that Louis wants to scream. He buries his face into Harry’s pillow instead, breathing in. His heart feels like ice in his chest and a cold tear slips down the side of his face into his hair.

He reaches blindly towards the nightstand, grabbing the sleeping pills that Niall had placed there the night before. He swallows two dry, and then clutches Harry’s pillow and tries to sleep again.

-

A few miles away Zayn Malik is fast asleep, arm slung over his face and snoring softly. Liam is sitting up in bed, scrolling on his phone and waiting for his boyfriend to wake up. It’s barely 5 in the morning but he’s restless, always unable to sleep when there’s something on his mind. He thinks back to the night before, the horrible shock of Harry leaving. They’d gotten the call when they were barely through the front door. Zayn had put Niall on speakerphone and he had explained rather shakily that Harry had left. He’d managed to coax Louis into drinking a glass of water and taking some sleeping pills, and had stayed with him until he fell asleep. Zayn had wanted to go over there, but Liam had convinced him to wait until morning. The lad needed to be alone. They’d begin to pick up the pieces in the morning.

Liam taps out a message to Niall, telling him to ring them if they’re needed, and he slides back under the covers, reaching for Zayn’s warmth. Zayn shifts and turns to Liam instinctively, still deep asleep. Liam smiles and wraps him up in his broad arms, stroking his back and pressing his lips to his forehead. He closes his eyes, suddenly feeling peaceful, and he falls back to sleep to the rhythm of his boyfriend’s breathing.

-

Niall sleeps badly that night, waking up several times in a cold sweat, thinking of Harry out there alone. He sends him a few messages, but isn’t surprised that he doesn’t hear back. He’d gotten one text from him after he’d walked out on Louis for the last time, but since then he’d heard nothing, and he doubted he would for a while.

From what he’d gathered from Louis Harry had only gone with Hamish out of loyalty to his friend, but had promised that he had a plan. Niall prays to God that Harry wasn’t lying about that. From what Louis had told him, Hamish was a dangerous guy, and the thought of Harry alone with him sent a shiver up Niall’s spine. He re-read Harry’s last text.

Trust me. Take care of him. X

Niall promised that he’d do his best on both counts.

His phone buzzes with a message from Liam at about 5:15, and he rolls over to read it, feeling more grateful than ever that he’s not dealing with this alone. If they’re going to keep Louis’ head above water on this one then they’re going to need to stick together.

At 6am he climbs out of bed, knowing that he won’t sleep another wink. He pads out into the kitchen and puts the kettle on, before going into Harry’s room to check on Louis. He’s fast asleep, but Niall notices that the pill that he’d left by the bed is gone. He frowns at Louis, who is curled up around one of Harry’s pillows. He shuts the door quietly and goes back to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of tea and work out what the hell he’s going to do.

Day Two

Louis is still in bed. When he’d woken up for the second time it was the afternoon, and the sun was shining cruelly through the blinds. He had pulled the cover over his head and whined into the pillow. He felt hollow and angry and all the things that he thought he wouldn’t have to deal with after he’d turned 20 and stopped giving his heart to stupid boys.

Harry Styles was the stupidest boy ever, matched only in idiocy by Louis Tomlinson himself.

I love you I love you I love you. Come back to me. He thought, before shutting his eyes again and forcing himself back to sleep.

-

Zayn had come over in the early afternoon with Liam, and had spoken to Niall, but Louis refused to even open his eyes when his best friend had come in to see him. Zayn had just stroked his hair and sung him back to sleep.

-

Niall comes in on the morning of the second day with some toast and a cup of tea, refusing to leave until Louis has eaten at least a bite. The food had tasted like metal. He wondered briefly if he was pining for Harry, like some desperate widow whose husband dies and they never get over it.

“Am I Mrs. Havisham?” He asks Niall desperately.

“No, of course not.” Niall says, before turning back to Louis with a confused look. “Who?”

“Never mind. Fuck I feel awful. This is fucking awful.”

“Not arguing mate.”

“I want to strangle him, but I also want to marry him. Is that crazy?”

“I want to skin him alive just as much as I want him back, Lou. It’s not crazy at all. He’s put us through the fucking ringer.”

“Has he always been like this?” Louis asks, nibbling on the crust. He doesn’t feel better per say, but there’s something about talking to Niall that is making it a bit easier to handle. That or he’s slipping into full insanity and will be committed any day.

Niall thinks for a few moments before replying.

“Harry’s never been a conventional person. He doesn’t know how to be. He’s been in trouble so long as I’ve known him, but it’s normally good trouble, you know? It always comes about by helping someone. It was only our last few years at school that he started to lose sight of himself a bit, you know? I don’t know what it was that triggered it. Just know that one day the lights went out a bit in his eyes and he didn’t know where he was going. Too busy looking after other people to think about himself. He’s been lost a long time Louis, I think this thing with Hamish was just…I dunno, that in extreme.”

“Was he lost…was he lost with me?” Louis asks quietly.

Niall smiles then, and it’s sad and bright all at once.

“He was lost in a good way with you, but he was also the happiest I’ve ever seen him. He’s still got a lot to figure out, but he’ll come back to you, Louis. He will.”

Louis just nods and bites off another chunk of bread.

“I think I’ll have a shower.” He says, and climbs out of bed.

Day Three

Zayn and Liam manage to get Louis to leave Harry’s room, and drive back to his own flat. They follow behind him in Liam’s car, and he waits for them outside his building.

“You really don’t have to escort me everywhere, Zayn. I’m not a flight risk.” Louis had said, but the look in his eyes told Zayn all he needed to know. He’d just rolled his eyes playfully and followed him upstairs.

Louis’ flat was surprisingly clean, and Zayn realised that this was Harry’s influence. Louis wasn’t messy per say, but had a tendency to drop things at random, and never pick them up. He busied himself making tea whilst Louis got in the shower and Liam sat politely at the table. There was still a hesitancy about Liam and Louis’ relationship, both still a little unsure of the other. But it was thawing, and when Louis gets out of the shower he comes to sit by Liam, and rests his head on the other man’s shoulder. Liam looks momentarily surprised, but then pleased. Louis is dressed in a spiderman onesie that’s far too big for him and looks small and lost as a little boy. But he’s showered and left Harry’s bed, and that is victory enough for Zayn.

Liam suggests a film, and Louis nods and lets himself be led from the table to the sofa, cup of tea in hand. The docile vulnerability frightens Zayn, but when he looks in Louis’ eyes he sees a grim determination there, amongst the sadness and grief. It frightens Zayn even more that Louis has had to tap this resource at all. They put on a film and Louis lies across them both, head in Zayn’s lap and feet up on Liam.

Liam rests his hands on Louis’ bony ankles comfortingly, and thinks of his son and wonders what kind of pain can take a man and reduce him to this. His desire to protect Louis burns in him, and when he catches Zayn’s expression he knows that he’s feeling exactly the same.

But some part of him worries for Harry too, so young and fierce, but also naïve and helpless. Barely 21 and already insisting he carry the world on his shoulder alone. He’d never told his mum, never let her help. Too scared of disappointing her to let social services intervene, and now Hamish has found him. He thinks about himself when he was younger, thinking he was tough enough to do anything, going through life with his fists up ready to fight, ready to lash out to anybody who tried to help him. He’d cried the first time he was arrested, curled up in a ball and sobbed in his cell. But he’d begged them not to call his parents, and when they’d shown up he’d sneered at them and said he didn’t want them.

“Is it possible to hate someone and love someone at the same time?” Louis says, startling Liam from his thoughts. Zayn looks down and his forehead scrunches up for a beat before relaxing.

“Sure.” And Liam’s heart hurts knowing that his boyfriend is talking about him. “But it’s not real hate, it’s just…it’s just pain. Love wins out.”

Louis picks at a thread on Zayn’s jeans and bites the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe I just…I just…I don’t know which one’s winning. Because right now I miss him so much I think I might throw up everywhere.” Zayn flinches a little at this, but doesn’t move. “But I also really want to never see him again. Is that normal?”

“It’s normal.” Liam says. “Whatever you feel, that’s normal. There’s no right way to be, God knows this isn’t exactly textbook relationship drama. He’s lied to you, he’s put himself and other people in danger because he was too stubborn to get the proper help. He didn’t tell his own mum that he was kicked unconscious by some lunatic, who’s been on the run for the past 6 months. If he was my boyfriend I’d want to strangle him.”

Louis nods thoughtfully, head still rested in Zayn’s lap.

“I just need to know he’s okay. Then I can decide what to do.”

Zayn strokes his hair and they go back to watching the film.

Day Four

Harry phones on the fourth day. Liam is in the supermarket with Jack when his phone rings, and he stares at the screen for a few seconds in shock before answering.

“Harry?”

Harry laughs softly on the other end of the line. Liam beckons for Jack, who comes running and grabs hold of his leg.

“Hey Liam.” His voice is calm and Liam doesn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“Harry what’s happening? Are you okay?” He tries to keep the panic out of his voice for Jack’s sake, but he only half manages it.

“I’m okay. I’m fine. It turns out they’d been tracking him for a while, but lost him somewhere in Liverpool. With my tip-off they picked him up when stopped at a service station just outside of Scotland.”

Liam breathes a sigh of relief and reaches his free hand down to stroke his son’s hair.

“Thank God Harry. I’m so pleased. How’s Louis doing? Bet he’s thrilled.” He smiles widely, feeling relief flood through him. He’d gotten so close to Louis over the last few days, and any animosity from the older man was dissipating. Harry clears his throat awkwardly on the other end of the line and the smile dies on Liam’s lips.

“About that…” Harry begins.

“You’re kidding? You haven’t called him yet? Have you called Niall? What about Zayn?”

“Just you.” Harry’s voice is small again and Liam wants to shout down the phone at Harry. He takes a breath before replying.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know.” But there’s affection in his voice. Harry laughs shakily. “I’ll call them" Liam says, "Just hurry back.”

“I will, I will. I just have a few more stops to make. A couple more days. Then I’m coming back for him.” Harry hangs up and Liam stares at his phone in shock before pocketing it and lifting Jack up. He finishes his shopping first before making the calls. He trails the aisles slowly with Jack, enjoying the simple domesticity of it. He lets Jack natter on and choose whatever he wants to put in the trolley. He plugs Jack’s headphones into his iPod and lets him listen to his favourite audio book whilst he brings up Louis’ number and presses call.

Day Five

Louis’ lungs are burning and his eyes are watering, but he doesn’t stop. He’s been running for an hour and a half and his legs are aching and his stomach tightening with nausea but he doesn’t stop. Every time he stops or slows down the fury rises in him quickly and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

When he’d gotten the call from Liam he had been numb for a while, slowly processing the information. Relief had washed through him, burning away the horrible black anxiety of the past few days. But then that had cleared and suddenly he was angry. More than angry in fact, he was livid. Harry hadn’t called him. He’d called Liam. He wasn’t planning on calling him, either. He was just going to turn up on the seventh day and act like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t totally lied to them all for months, like he hadn’t been a total idiot who pathologically runs away from his problems.

He had smashed a plate against a wall, but this hadn’t made him feel better. He had stewed all day in his flat, refusing to let anyone in. It was only when Niall sent him a text asking him to meet that he softened a little. If there was anyone who understood what he was going through, it was Niall.

He’d grabbed his keys and headed out. It was a sweltering day in Manchester, and the sun beat down mercilessly on him as he walked. By the time he reached Simon’s he was red in the face and dying for a drink. Luckily Niall was already there, sheltered under an umbrella, with two frosty looking pints in front of him. He pushed one towards a grateful looking Louis when he sat down.

“Thanks Ni.” Louis said, sipping from it and wiping the sweat from his brow.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes, both nursing their pints thoughtfully.

“He’s a fucking idiot.” Niall said eventually, breaking the silence. Louis looked up at him, surprised by the anger in his expression. It took a lot to get a rise out of the eternally chilled out Niall.

“You can say that again.” Louis said, face stony. Niall shakes his head.

“I just can’t fucking believe him. Known him half my life and yet I’m still surprised when he pulls shit like this. I just want to get him home and lock him away so he can’t get into trouble again.”

Louis nodded in agreement and took another sip from his glass. He felt cooler, sitting in the shade with Niall, and some of the anger burned away. They’d chatted for the next few hour, Niall doing most of the talking whilst Louis’ had nodded along.

When he’d gotten home the calm had stayed with him long enough for him to fall asleep. But when he woke on the fifth day he was livid again, letting out a strangled cry which sent his cats running for cover.

So he’d pulled on a t-shirt, shorts and running shoes, and hit the road.

He stops briefly to catch his breath, senses burning from running for so long. His vision swims in front of him and he leans against a wall, rocking side to side. He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns slowly, dizzily to see who's there. A man about his age is looking down at him with a worried expression on his face. His light hair is pushed back from his eyes and a bead of sweat is running down his nose. It’s a cute nose, he thinks. He’s similarly dressed in shorts and shoes, but he’s wearing an outrageously tight black vest.

“Are you alright?” The man says, biting his lip anxiously. It’s a very nice lip, Louis thinks. He blinks a few times, and then answers.

“Fine…just tired. Pushed myself a bit far.” Now that he’s stopped Louis can feel a dull throbbing in one of his ankles, and when he puts his weight down on it he winces.

“You can’t run on that, you’ll injure yourself. Where do you live? I’ll help you back.” Louis is stunned for a moment, but then nods and gives his address and lets the man take his arm.

“I don’t live that far away actually, I considered your building but changed my mind last minute.” The man says, helping Louis along. “I’m Greg by the way.”

“Louis.” Louis says, a little shyly. He feels exposed suddenly, his anger fizzling into nothing. The man’s grip is solid around him and for a moment it feels nice to be supported, to not be hurtling through space with nothing to hold onto.

Wow, that escalated.

They walk in comfortable silence back to Louis’ building. Louis pauses outside to tap in the code, and turns to thank Greg, but he speaks first.

“I should help you upstairs.” He says, with genuine concern in his voice. Louis just nods and lets him take his arm again. When they get to Louis’ door Greg stops and watches whilst he fumbles with his key and opens the door.

“Thankyou.” Louis says, and Greg smiles.

“Not a problem. Put some ice on that ankle, alright?” Louis smiles and goes inside, shutting the door and leaning against it whilst his heart slows down.

That’s what a simple life looks like, he thinks to himself. Nice men with nice names and nice lips hitting on him. No murderous ex-boyfriends, no elaborate lies, no leaving Louis alone to help catch bad guys and rescue damsels in distress.

He limps to the sink and gets himself a glass of water, and then climbs into the shower and turns the radio to full volume whilst he washes his hair, vowing not to think about Harry again until he’s right in front of him.

When he gets out of the shower he dresses in joggers and a t-shirt and goes out to the kitchen to find a support bandage for his ankle. He pauses in the kitchen, eyes on a piece of paper by the door. He walks slowly towards it, and bends to pick it up.

In case you ever want a running partner, Greg.

There was a mobile phone number beneath it.

Louis holds it in his hands for a few moments whilst he thinks. He knows he should throw it straight in the bin, he knows he won’t call. He has Harry. He loves Harry. (He wants to strangle Harry with a scarf).

Without thinking he opens the odds and ends drawer in the kitchen and stuffs the number in.

Day Six

It’s one of Liam’s days with Jack, so he and Zayn brainstorm fun summer activities for young children.

“I always liked fishing.” Zayn says, lounging at the end of Liam’s bed, dressed only in a pair of black boxers.

“Fishing? Are you serious?”

“Don’t look so surprised, I was proper good at it as well.”

“But you can’t swim.”

“I didn’t get in with the fish, jeez. I just sat by  river and chucked my rod in. Simple.”

“Wow, you sound like a real professional.”

Zayn crawls up the bed and pins Liam down.

“I’ll have you know I was very talented. Caught a well big fish once.” Liam laughs and wriggles underneath him. Despite Zayn’s strength, Liam could easily overpower him and flip them, but he lets Zayn pin him to the bed. Zayn grinds down playfully on Liam, their thinly covered crotches rubbing together. He bites his lip flirtatiously at Liam, who pushes up against him. Zayn drops his head to kiss his boyfriend, their minty breath mingling as their tongues meet.

It’s Zayn who breaks the kiss, pulling away breathlessly.

“We’re meant to be brainstorming, babe.” Liam sighs and Zayn climbs off him. “Okay. What else do kids like?” Zayn says.

Liam rubs his eyes, and then sits up in bed.

“Fuck it, let’s take him to the park. If we get in the shower now I’ll still have time to blow you before Holly drops him off.”

He’s never seen Zayn move so fast.

-

It’s a little awkward when Holly knocks on the door an hour and a half later with Jack. Liam answers, and Jack runs straight past him to jump up at Zayn, who is standing a few feet from the door. Zayn lifts him up and Jack screams with laughter and clings to him like a limpet. Zayn looks to Holly, who is standing awkwardly in the doorway, still holding Jack’s little backpack.

Jack is oblivious as he plays with Zayn’s earring and strokes his stubble curiously. Liam takes the backpack from her and she calls goodbye to Jack.

“I’ll see you later alright, Jackie.” She calls, picking at her nail. Jack ignores her, too focused on tracing the lines of Zayn’s tattoos.

“Hey, Jack.” Zayn says. “Say goodbye to mummy.” Jack looks around and smiles at her.

“Bye mum! See you!” She smiles at Zayn and gives Jack a little wave, before disappearing down the corridor. Liam shuts the door and comes over to where Zayn and his son are. He gives Jack a kiss first and then kisses Zayn. When they pull apart Jack has a look of horror on his face.

“That’s horrible, daddy.”

-

Jack keeps up his commentary all the way to the beach, telling Zayn about every interesting thing he sees.

“Zayn that woman had pink hair, did you see? Do you think they let her have that at school? There’s a pigeon there, Zayn. It’s got one leg. That’s sad. But birds don’t have to walk a lot do they, not like me. I have to walk everywhere. Did I tell you about James at my school? James has a wheelchair and he’s my best friend. Not better than you though, Zayn. Zayn do you think that sharks are scared of anything?”

Liam looks at Zayn sympathetically, but Zayn can’t bring himself to be more than chuffed to bits that Jack is showering him with attention. It makes him feel special, a part of something.

“Zayn are you and my daddy married?”

Liam coughs to cover his surprise and Zayn’s eyes widen. He turns to where Jack is sitting in the backseat, swinging his legs and eating a packet of biscuits

“No, we’re not married. We’re just…boyfriends.”

“That’s a shame. I always wanted to go to a wedding. Daddy’s sisters got married but I was too young to go, which was rude of them. Let me know when you do get married, so I can come.” He grabs a packet of crisps from the hamper beside him and tucks in without a pause.

“Hey Zayn.” He says, through a mouthful of food. “What’s a blowjob?”

Zayn almost chokes.

-

When they get to the park the clouds have cleared and the sky is an impossible blue. Liam lifts Jack out of the backseat and Zayn grabs the food and blanket. They find a spot down by the lake, and lay out their things. Jack insists on wearing Zayn’s sunglasses, though they’re far too big and keep slipping down his nose.

There’s a girl about his age playing alone by the water, her mother watching nearby, making sure she doesn’t go any closer.

“You want to go and play, Jack?” Liam asks, rubbing sun-cream on his son’s forehead. Jack nods and replaces the sunglasses on Zayn’s face, poking him repeatedly in the eye in his enthusiasm.

He kisses Liam on the nose and runs down to join the girl. They watch as he bows and offers his hand out for her to shake.

Liam shakes his head and laughs.

“He’s a handful.”

Zayn shuffles closer and tangles their legs together.

“He’s amazing.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

They watch him in silence for a few minutes. He is already holding the girls hand as they search for stones in the water.

“I could get used to this.” Zayn says quietly, leaning his head on Liam’s shoulder.

Liam grins and takes Zayn’s hand.

“Move in with me.” He says, voice casual. Zayn stiffens, turns up to face him.

“What?”

“You heard. Move in with me.”

“Alright.” Zayn hears himself say.

Day Seven

Niall barely sleeps on the sixth night. He tosses and turns in bed, thoughts racing, dreams interrupted. He checks the clock, sees that it’s 4:40am and decides to call it quits. He climbs out of bed and heads into the kitchen. The sky is already lightening outside, and he puts on the kettle and takes a seat at the table.

They hadn’t heard from Harry since he’d called Liam a few days before, and Niall was still sick with worry. He knew he would be until Harry walked back through the doors to greet him.

He steps out onto the small balcony when he’s made himself a cup of tea, and watches the world drift slowly by below him. The air is pleasantly cool at this time in the morning, and the streetlights are still on, sending streams of orange light down onto the pavements. The sky is a pastel blue, lighter on the horizon where the sun is starting to come up. He takes a sip from his tea and watches the day begin.

-

A few miles away Louis is also awake, watching the sunrise. He realises that he’s never done this before, not sober anyway. He sits on the roof of his building, wrapped in a warm jumper over his pyjamas, and watches the sky change colour.

There is no more anger in him, he’s too tired for anger, too exhausted by loving and hating Harry in equal measure to do anything but sit in still silence.

He knows with a dull inevitability what today will bring.

He pushes the thought down, lifting his camera and taking a picture of the sky.

It’s a beautiful world, he thinks.

-

When Zayn and Liam wake up the sun has barely risen, and a wide eyed child is bouncing on their bed.

“Are! You! Awake! Yet!” He shouts in between bounces.

Zayn groans and rubs his eyes. Liam grabs Jack and holds him still.

“You little terror.” He says, voice croaky with sleep. They lie together for a few more minutes, until Jack starts singing loudly and drags them both out of bed.

“I’m hungry.” He says, crawling into a chair at the kitchen table. Zayn has pulled on a pair of Liam’s joggers and a t-shirt and is anxiously awaiting his morning coffee.

Liam hands it to him and he sits down across from Jack at the table, sipping slowly as he wakes up.

Today is the day. Today is the day that Harry promised to be back.

They eat breakfast in silence, Zayn’s leg bouncing nervously under the table.

-

In the end it is an undramatic entrance. Louis is sitting at his table with the paper open in front of him, and a sandwich on a plate to the side. It’s early afternoon, and the sky is cloudy outside. Electricity sparks in the air and a thunderstorm threatens.

He’d ignored the texts from the others, choosing to stay inside and wait it out. He was just reading about government reforms when the door opened behind him and someone stepped inside. He doesn’t turn around, just closes the paper and folds it in his lap. He takes a sip of his tea as he hears the footsteps come into the room.

“You’re back then.” He says, still facing away. There’s a pause before Harry speaks.

“Yes. I’m back.”

Louis nods and stands up, picking up his plate and emptying the sandwich in the bin before setting it by the sink.

He turns.

Harry is standing very still in the doorway, clutching a small bag.

“You got a haircut.” He says, evenly, looking over at Harry. Anger rises in him briefly but he quells it, pushes it down.

Harry nods.

“This morning. I…I needed time to think.”

“Is she alright? Pepper, is she alright?”

Harry nods, swallowing. He makes no move to come further into the room.

“She’s fine. Bit shaken. He had her locked in his flat, somewhere. But the police found her not long after they got him. She’s staying with my mum, for now.”

Louis nods slowly.

“So you told your mum then?”

“I did.”

“How did she take it?”

Harry laughs mirthlessly.

“How do you think? She’s alright now though. Her and Pepper get on, so.”

“Good.” Louis’ voice is clipped and his hand is clenching and unclenching at his side.

“Louis- I- I don’t know where to even begin saying-”

“I want to break up.” Louis voice cuts across his, and the first peal of thunder booms outside. The words don't hurt quite as much as he thought they would, coming out.

Harry’s face twists in confusion, fear sparks in his eyes but he recovers himself.

“I thought you might say that…I just. I’m sorry Louis.” His voice cracks halfway through but he doesn’t let himself cry. He steps forward into the room and puts the small bag on the table. “I love you, Lou.” He says, simply.

Louis looks at him hard in the eye before clearing his throat and turning to leave the room. He stops in the doorway and looks back at Harry, who is standing sadly by the table.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” He says, before walking into his bedroom and shutting the door.

It’s only when he hears the faint click of his front door shutting that he lets the tears come. He sobs loudly for a few seconds before grabbing his laptop from his desk. Without allowing himself to think, he books a plane ticket.

Anywhere but here, he thinks.

Chapter Text

CH23:The One Where The Rest Of The World Might Have An Answer

1 Month Later

Late July in Bali is beautiful.

For the first time since he left England Louis feels truly calm. The world still has its sharpness, his mouth still tastes a little bitter, but he’s calm. The storm inside him has almost blown itself out, and though the damage is still there, still raw and violent and awful, he knows that the worst is done. He leans back on his hands and just enjoys the moment. The setting sun is so warm, so lovely on every inch of his exposed skin. The sky is painted in impossible hues of orange, red and yellow.

This is where he starts from, he thinks, this moment on the rocks will be his new beginning. This is his. This belongs to him. There is no scent of Harry here, no mark of lost love. His fingerprints are nowhere on this scene. This belongs to Louis and Louis alone. So what if he’s lonely? Lonely is a fair compromise if he gets to be here in this moment and not at home in his grief and darkness and pain. He can’t live in the dark with Harry’s shadow anymore, he has to say goodbye and leave. He has to stand up and walk out, shut the door and not look back.

 “Infinite Universes… I suppose there had to be one where we didn’t work out.”

He stays there a while longer, relishing the heat on his body as he watches the birds circle out at sea. When the sun has mostly dipped behind the horizon he stands up, grabs his bag and wanders back to his hotel room. He lies on the bed in the darkening room and thinks about all the world’s where he doesn’t have to feel like this, where he gets to fall in love and stay in love forever. He wonders if its rational to feel this envious of yourself. He decides it doesn’t matter. He’s just thankful that he’s here, and that even though he’s been to hell at least he’s coming back.

He falls asleep and doesn’t dream at all.

-

In the end they all come to meet Louis at the airport, and Louis is glad about that, though Harry's absense is both a relief and a dagger at the same time. They all hug him and compliment his tan, and Liam takes his bags from him and Niall throws his arm across his shoulder and asks him about the food. He laughs and tells them about his travels. By the time they get back to his flat he is grinning widely as he tells them about the time a dog ran off with his passport on a beach in Thailand.

“I swear that thing had rabies as well, practically had to wrestle with it.”

Niall wrinkles his nose and backs away slowly as Zayn unlocks the door for him.

“Well if you start frothing at the mouth I’m out of here.”

Louis punches him playfully in the arm and follows Zayn inside. He dumps his bags and runs to say hello to the kittens. They paw at him excitedly.

“Thanks for looking after them, Zayn, honestly you’re the best.” He straightens up and goes back into the kitchen, pausing when he sees the others in a solemn semi-circle, expressions serious.

“Jesus, what’s with the faces?”

“We…well we have something for you.” Zayn says slowly, and Louis’ forehead creases in confusion.

“What is it?”

“It’s the present…it’s the present from Harry.”

Louis feels a little lightheaded for a second before he composes himself.

“I still don’t want it, Zayn. I sent it back to him for a reason. Fresh starts, remember. For us both.”

“Alright, that’s up to you. But if you change your mind…” Zayn pulls a small box out of his back pocket and sets it on the table beside him. Louis’ face remains blank.

“Right, well we’ll let you get settled. Call me tomorrow, alright mate?” Louis nods at Zayn and hugs them all goodbye.

And then he’s alone.

He avoids looking at the table, instead hd picks up his bags and lugs them into his bedroom. It looks different somehow, smaller than he remembers it.

He dumps his stuff on the bed and then heads into the bathroom to take a shower. He turns on the spray and lets the water heat up whilst he washes his face in the sink. He takes his time showering, washing every inch of his body until he feels brand new. He’s missed this shower, the powerful stream of water, the reassuring warmth. He wraps a huge fluffy towel around him when he’s finished and sits on the edge of the bath, waiting for the steam to clear before padding back into his bedroom and opening his drawer. He ignores the little pang in his chest when he sees an old shirt of Harry’s, and grabs some flannel trousers and a sweatshirt, pulling them on and going back out into the kitchen.

He makes a cup of tea and toast. He sits at the table. He sips his tea and chews on his toast, his eyes fixed on the little package in front of him. It’s small and square shaped, wrapped in shiny white paper and tied with a ribbon. He finishes his toast, and drains his tea, pushing the cup and plate to one side before grabbing for the present.

He tears it open before he has a chance to change his mind. Under the wrapping is a little white leather box. He snaps it open and his heart pounds even harder when he sees what’s inside. A charm on an impossibly delicate looking chain.

“Of course he did, of course he fucking did.” Louis whispers to himself. He picks up the chain in his shaking hand and holds it up in front of him. A tiny silver compass swings slowly from side to side. There is a tiny note in the lid of the box, on it is one word, scrawled in dark gold ink.

The word is ‘go’ and it starts a tremor in his heart that he knows he’ll feel for days.

He knew what I needed before I did. Louis thinks, and he lets the tears fall.

-

Zayn had looked murderous when he’d first seen Harry, his eyes gleaming and his fists clenched. But then Harry’s eyes had filled with tears and he had softened, and had pulled Harry into a hug as his face crumpled.

“He can’t have given up on us. He can’t. He told me we were built for this. He told me that he’d follow me anywhere. He promised.”

“I know babe, but he needs time to figure stuff out. He’ll come around.”

Harry had just sobbed harder, Zayn’s shoulder getting soggy as he cried. He’d made a desperate face at Liam who had called Niall. When Niall had arrived Zayn was able to gently detach Harry from his shoulder and into Niall, who led him to Zayn’s sofa and held him tightly.

Zayn knew that when Harry was slightly less vulnerable Niall was planning to give him the biggest telling off of his life, but for now he just let him cry.

“Should we call Louis?” Liam asked, leaning on Zayn’s shoulder in the kitchen.

“No. He’s made his choice. He’s stubborn as they come. We just have to hope that they figure it out.”

“Fuck, it’s all so complicated.” Liam had sighed and wrapped his arms around Zayn’s waist. “So I guess we should hold off telling everyone our news until this blows over a bit?”

“Mm, I suppose. I was thinking of telling my parents though, and my family. Would that be alright?”

Liam beamed at him.

“Of course. Although I would like to meet them before you actually move in.”

“Deal.”

-

They had found out from a note.

He had dropped a box outside Niall and Harry’s flat early one morning, and left without a word.

Niall was only going out to get the milk one morning when he tripped over something in the doorway and went flying across the hall. When he was able to regain his composure (stop swearing like a trooper) he looked back to see what the obstacle was. He pulled open the lid and frowned at the box’s contents.

The first thing he saw was Harry’s present, unwrapped and still in the bag. Folded underneath it was a spiderman onesie, and some DVDs that Niall had leant him a couple of months before. On top of the lot was a little scrap of paper.

Gone travelling. Back in a month, maybe more. Take care of each other, Louis.

Niall had sighed a sigh that communicated his deep displeasure at being the only one of his friends with enough sense to just talk things through over a couple of pints of Guinness and a plate of nachos. Harry had looked up from the sofa when he’d trudged back in. He dropped the box on the sofa and handed him the note, before turning and leaving for the second time.

Harry had read it several times, before getting out his phone and calling Zayn.

“Did you know?” He had said, in lieu of an actual greeting. Zayn sighed on the other end of the line

“What did your note say?”

Zayn’s frustration lay not in the fact that Louis had left, but more that he hadn’t felt the need to talk to his best friend at all before jetting off to God knows where. He’d come back home after a night spent with Liam to find a thick envelope half stuffed under his doormat.

When he’d torn it open it he’d found Louis’ house keys, a leaflet on how to care for young cats, a handful of twenty pound notes, and a little slip of paper that said;

Bought a one way ticket, need to sort my head out. Look after the kittens, tell them I love them everyday. Ian especially. And make sure they don’t eat Jennifer. X

There was something so endlessly frustrating about being best friend’s with Louis Tomlinson. He’d always been so emotionally impulsive, throwing everything he had at a relationship regardless of whether the other person was right for him or not. And then when things came shuddering to a halt he would react, but only briefly. He would lose his mind for a day, or a week. But then things would settle down, return to normal, and Zayn would have his friend back.

But this was different, this was not some flyaway decision. This was a plane ticket across the world. This was as big as it had ever been. If Louis had needed to leave the country on his own, with no plan or no forewarning…Harry must have really done a number on him.

Zayn rubbed his eyes at the thought of Harry, impulsive too, but in a different way. Harry was fiercely independent, but at the same time as needy as a child. Neither of them made sense. But that was why they weren’t meant to be, that’s why he had been convinced they were forever.

He talked to Harry for a while, listening to the younger man vent his frustration. Then he hung up and packed a bag, figuring it would be easy to stay there for a while rather than commute back and forth. He thinks of holing himself away, getting some song writing done.

In the end he invited Jack and Liam over, and made fajitas whilst Jack played with the cats.

He puts rock and roll on hold and instead spends time with the most important people in his life.

Chapter Text

CH24:The One Where Pepper Might Just Be A Genius

When Pepper wakes up she is momentarily confused by the tapping of rain on the window. But then she remembers where she is and sighs as she pulls the covers tight around her. She’d been used to perpetual sunshine for so many months that she keeps forgotting what an English summer is actually like.

She checks her watch on the bedside table.

9:34.

She considers going back to sleep for a bit, but finds that she’s already wide awake. She slips out of bed and goes to the bathroom, splashing her face with water and looking in the mirror. Her skin was still a dark gold colour, and her braided her had grown out only a little. The fresh piercings on her right ear were still a little sore, but nothing she couldn’t manage. She’d decided on them last minute in Brazil, wanting some permanent reminder of her days there.

She goes back out into the corridor towards Harry’s bedroom, glancing outside to see if Anne’s car was in the driveway. She sees that it is not and guesses that Harry’s mum is still out at the shops. A huge fondness for Anne blooms in her chest, and she thinks of their first meeting when herself and Harry had been dropped off in a police car outside of his childhood home. Anne's face had been a picture of shock and panic when Harry had sat her down with a hot cup of coffee and told her the story.

Pepper had sat awkwardly across from her at the table, picking at her nails and waiting for the shouting to begin. She couldn’t even imagine what this conversation would have looked like if it was with her own parent. But the fury had never come. Anne had just wiped her eyes, reached for Pepper and Harry’s hands, and told them they were bloody idiots, and she was so glad they were alright. She had pulled Harry into a tight hug and told him in no uncertain words that he was in trouble for the rest of his life. He had laughed through his tears and held her close.

Then Harry had made them all some dinner whilst Anne asked Pepper endless questions about her travels, Harry interjecting now and again with his own stories. She had only been in the house for a few hours but it already felt like home. His mum had asked Harry about his friends in Manchester, and Pepper had listened closely, yearning for the same sense of community that Harry clearly had with these people.

“How’s Niall? And that lovely boy Zayn? Did he and Liam ever make it up?” He had smiled and filled her in on all of the excitement that was Zayn and Liam’s relationship. She had paused before asking the obvious question.

“And Louis? How’s he doing with all of this?” Harry had stilled for a second, knife in his hand as he cut onions.

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him.” His voice was quiet and guilty, but Anne had only sighed and gone over to give him a hug. The phone had rung not long after that, Gemma demanding to know what on earth was going on with her family, and Anne had left them alone whilst she spoke to her daughter upstairs. Pepper had gotten up from the table and gone to lean on the counter by where Harry was preparing dinner.

“So.” She said, popping a slice of tomato into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully, “You’re majorly in the doghouse with your man.”

He looked up at her and sighed.

“Majorly doesn’t even cover it. That’s why I haven’t called him, I’m terrified that he’s going to end it. Which is stupid because of course he’ll end it.”

“How do you know that?” Pepper’s voice was gentle, but insistent.

“Because I know him. And he’ll need to get a lot of distance before he can figure this one out. He’ll push me away when I see him.”

“And what are you gunna do when he does that?” There was no judgement in her tone. He stopped chopping mushrooms for a moment to look at her, a sad defiance in his eyes.

“I’m going to let him.”

She nodded, understanding.

“Distance is sometimes the best thing in the world.” She said, shaking the bangles on her arm gently before speaking again. “But he’s the one, right?”

“The only one.”

-

Harry had phoned her the day after Louis had left, explaining through tears that he knew this was the right thing for Louis but that it still hurt like absolute hell.

“And he didn’t even open my present.” He had sobbed, sniffing down the line.

“He will.” She assured him. “He’ll come back to you, Haz. Be patient. I can see great love in your future.” She had adopted her best fortune mystical fortune teller voice, and he had laughed, albeit a little snottily.

“Thanks Peps. How’s my mum doing?”

“She’s good. Well, she’s amazing and I’ve definitely got a huge crush, but whatever. Robin’s coming back from his trip later, so no idea how that’s going to go down. I might just hide behind the door and jump out like ‘hey! I’m the crazy girl who ruined your stepson's life, may I take your coat?’”

“Hey, don’t be daft. Anyway, you’ll be fine. Just get your head sorted, that’s why you’re there. Robin will love you. Everyone loves you, it’s actually very annoying.”

They’d hung up with promises to call each other soon.

For the next month she had focused on getting her life on track. The months that she’d spent travelling had been incredible, more than that even. She’d met people that had changed her outlook on everything, seen snapshots of lives that she didn’t know were possible. It was the silver lining to what had happened in Edinburgh, the light at the end of the tunnel. But of course she’d had to come back, and it had been just her luck that he’d been waiting for her. She’d been stupid, sending that note to Harry through the University, but she’d had no other way to reach him.

When she’d landed in Edinburgh she supposes that she should have been more surprised to see Hamish standing there, but she knows that on some level she was aware that the moment was always coming. He’d looked desperate, thinner than he’d been last time they’d met, but still stocky and tall. His facial hair was patchy, and his eyes more wild. The smart shirts and fitted jeans had been replaced with a baggy jumper and cargo trousers. She had gone with him without fuss, there would be no point in struggling, the manic look in his eyes told her that much.

“You look ill, Hamish. You not been sleeping?” He had just growled at her and told her to get in the car. He’d driven the short way to his place, and had walked behind her all the way as he directed her into his flat. It was squalid, barely lived in and sparesely decorated. The ceiling was smoke stained and the carpets were sticky looking and ripped up at the edges.

“Nice place.” She’d said, sitting down at the edge of his sofa. “Are you planning on telling me why I’m here, or do I have to guess?”

“You have something of mine. You and him.” Her insides had clenched a little at that, but she forced her face to remain calm.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

He had just growled and dug through her bag until he found her phone. Then he’d crushed some tablets in a glass and watched her whilst she drank.

Then he’d waited for her to fall asleep.

When she woke up she was in an ambulance with Harry, who was clutching her hand nervously.

“Alright trouble.” She'd managed weakly, before dozing off again. They’d kept her in for a couple of days at the hospital, though she had insisted again and again that she was fine. When eventually they discharged her to the protective custody of the police officers she had asked Harry where they were going.

“Home.” He had said.

-

And it had started to feel like it, too. The first couple of weeks were a little tense, what with Robin’s return and the rehashing of the whole sorry tale. But after that things got easier, and Pepper had started to feel part of the family. She didn’t kid herself into thinking she would be welcome forever, but she knew that she could stay so long as she needed it. She’d managed to find part-time work in a little bakery down the road, thanks to a glowing reference from Harry (“Had my first job there. Those ladies love me.”) And she spent the rest of the time helping out Harry’s mum at home, or taking walks on her own around the village. It was nice to be back in England, and she was grateful for the peace of it. She knew that the future was uncertain, and the court case would be tough, but with people like this around her she thought she might just make it.

After the last year of her life, she thinks she’s just about unshockable.

That is, until Louis Tomlinson turns up on the doorstep.

She’s just getting out of the shower when she hears the doorbell go, so she pulls on a pair of Harry’s boxer shorts and a baggy band t-shirt before running downstairs, expecting it to be Anne with the shopping. She pulls open the door, surprised briefly by the unfamiliar face.

“Hi.” She says, smiling warmly.

Louis stands still and looks at her for a moment, taking in the damp, curly hair, the make-up smudged around her eyes. She should look a mess but somehow she looks like a rockstar.

“Hi- I’m- I’m-”

“You’re Louis.” She says, and steps back to let him in.

He steps inside, waiting until she’s closed the door to speak again.

“How did you-”

“Necklace.” She says, simply, gesturing to the chain that is poking out through his shirt. “Come through, I was just about to make some breakfast. You want something?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before taking his hand and leading him into the kitchen. She gestures to the table and tells him to sit as she pulls out various ingredients from the cupboard and pops the kettle on.

“You’re back then?” She asks as she whisks eggs in a bowl.

“How did you-”

“Harry tells me everything. It’s alright, you don’t need to look scared. He is an idiot, we agree on that much.” She smiles and puts the eggs down to make the tea. There’s something incredibly un-static about her, as though even when standing still she’s somehow moving. “Anne’s back soon. She’ll be chuffed to see you.”

He’s stunned into silence by her demeanour, and he feels bizarrely as though they’ve known each other for much longer than 10 minutes. She puts his tea down in front of him, and when he takes a sip he finds that it’s made exactly to his requirements.

“Harry wasn’t exaggerating about you, was he?”

She turns in surprise, and lights up when she sees him smiling at her. She’s like the sun.

“I’m sorry for just turning up like this. But I needed to speak to you. And to Anne, too. I needed to speak to you before I went to see him.”

“Oh, you’ve not-”

“Not yet. I need to finish clearing my head before I do. It’s been a month, and I’m still not quite sure what to say to him. Is that crazy?”

“Not at all.” She says, putting a plate of eggs in front of him.

She grabs her own food and sits down next to him, squirting generous amounts of ketchup on her plate.

“He’s your soulmate, then?” She says through a mouthful. “And you probably realised it somewhere a million miles from here, but you decided to ignore it because that’s not the realisation you wanted, am I right?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer before she carries on. “So you got your peace, got your closure, and came home. But when you got back you realised that nothing had changed, that you still needed him, that he still terrified you, and that however far across this planet you go, he’s still going to have your heart right there in the palm of his hand.”

She stops speaking and takes a sip of tea. She leans forward and cradles the compass pendant in her hands.

“This is nice. It suits you.”

He is dumbstruck, his eggs untouched and cooling on his plate.

“How did- who said- what are you?” He settles on finally, too baffled by her to speak coherently.

“I’m Pepper Miller, but that’s not important. What are you? That’s the question. What do you need, where are you going, who do you want by your side?” She takes another mouthful of eggs and wipes her hands on Harry’s band t-shirt. “He’s an idiot, Louis. But he’s not a bad person. Hell is other people, sure, but heaven too.” She picks up her mug of steaming tea and gulps it down impressively quickly.

Louis picks up his fork shakily and eats a small bite of his eggs, feeling totally in awe of the creature sitting opposite him squirting smiley faces on her plate in tomato ketchup.

The banging of a door brings him out of his trance, and he looks up just as Harry’s mum comes in through the kitchen door, arms laden with shopping bags.

She freezes when she sees him.

“Louis.”

“Hi, Mrs. Twist.” He says, suddenly very shy. And then her face breaks into a smile and she drops the bags and runs over to him, wrapping him up in a hug. When she pulls away her face is stern.

“You broke my son’s heart, Louis.” She says, before hugging him tightly again. Pepper gets up and starts to unpack the shopping whilst Anne takes a seat and insists that Louis tell her everything. When he’s finished they sit in silence for a few moments. She turns to Pepper, who is sitting across from them both, painting her nails.

“They’re both as stupid as each other.”

Pepper nods, not looking up from her hands.

“Told you.”

Anne turns back to Louis.

“My son loves you, and I know that you love him. I’m not saying you have to forget everything that happened and get back together. But I want you to promise me that you’ll try, that you’ll try to start again. Make peace, Louis darling. For your sake as well as his.”

She insists that he stay for dinner, and he and Pepper chop vegetables amiably side by side whilst they all chat and listen to the radio. It’s the most peaceful he’s felt in weeks, and just being here in Harry’s childhood home is enough to fill him with renewed conviction. Whether he and Harry are meant to be or not, he needs to speak to him, needs to clear the air once and for all.

They talk for a while after they’ve finished eating, and listen to Anne tell stories about her kids. And it’s nice, is the thing. It’s really, unbelievably nice. It’s different from his house, less chaotic, fewer voices competing for dominance. When he excuses himself to use the toilet he takes a few moments to inspect the photographs in the hall. There are plenty of Harry and Gemma, messing about together as kids, or pulling silly faces in grainy camera phone snaps. He can’t help but smile at the carefree look in Harry’s eyes.

I want to make him look like that, he thinks. He looks up when he hears footsteps behind him, and he turns to see Anne coming towards him from the kitchen. She puts an arm round him, and they stand in silence and look at the pictures.

“I just want my son back, Louis.” She says quietly, stroking a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s lost something of himself along the way.”

He nods, because there’s nothing more to add.

When he’s finished in the bathroom he splashes his face with water, and goes down to say goodbye. Anne hugs him for a long time, and she looks sad as they pull apart. Pepper grabs him around the waist and kisses him on both cheeks, telling him to take care.

“And don’t take any nonsense from that Styles character, alright?” She winks, and he feels almost tearful saying goodbye to them.

When he gets into the car he fiddles with the radio, tuning in and out of the various stations. Then his hand hovers over the functions button, and he presses down, the disc whirring in the slot.

He drives home listening to Harry’s CD, realising exactly what he needs to do.

Chapter Text

CH25:The One Where The Countdown Begins

In the 100 days after Louis meets Pepper everything changes. It takes him approximately 9 minutes (or 2 and a half songs) after leaving Anne’s house to realise that he is totally, irreparably, ridiculously still in love with Harry Styles. It takes him a further two songs to deduce that he has been a total coward and absolutely does not deserve to be happy.

By the time he’s halfway back to Manchester he’s dissected and analysed the last two decades of his life and he has to admit, it’s not looking good. He wonders desperately if he can blame Zayn for the sorry excuse for a life that he’s been living, but decides against it. If he fucks this up again then Zayn will be his only ally in the whole of Northern England.

He gets home at 10:30, and stomps all the way from the carpark to his flat. He stomps along the corridor and inside. The kittens, who had been congregating in the kitchen, scatter. All except Ian of course who looks up at him with a mildly bemused expression, before scraping his claws on his leg.

He picks Ian up and cuddles him, sighing into his soft tickly fur.

“I’m an idiot, Ian.”

Ian meows in agreement.

He wants to rewind his life and keep rewinding to before things were this bloody complicated. He knows now, he knows that he has to tell Harry how he feels, but the words elude him. It has to be perfect. It can’t be some fumbled hurried mess of a declaration. It had to move mountains, it has to bridge more than a month’s worth of separation.

“I wish I was a cat.” He says, carrying Ian into his bed before flopping down on the mattress, sighing a defeated sigh.

Day 97

Louis ransacks his phonebook to no avail. He thinks about calling his mum, but can’t be bothered to explain the whole story to her over the phone. He considers Zayn of course, but he’s too busy with Liam and far too involved with the whole business to give him unbiased advice.

He needs someone totally, totally unconnected. He pulls open the drawer in the kitchen and rummages for the scrap of paper.

“Err, Greg? Hi. It’s Louis. We, um, we met running. You helped me home? Yes. Hi. Good thanks, how are you? Yeah not much, not much. Look Greg, I sort of need a favour.”

-

He meets Greg out of town, trying to avoid running into anyone they know. Of course that means he sees his receptionist Becky at the table 2 feet from his.

“Louis!” She coos, waving her arms and beaming at him. He smiles tightly and gets up so she can hug him. “How are you, babe? How you been? How’s the hols treating you? How’s Harry?” Her voice is sweet as bubblegum, and just as annoying all up in his face.

“Fine, yeah. Just meeting a friend.” As if on cue, Greg walks in through the doors and comes over, kissing Louis politely on the cheek. Becky looks scandalized, and sinks into her chair slowly, staring at Louis and Greg with undisguised interest. Louis rolls his eyes as subtly as possible, and gestures for Greg to sit down.

“So.” Greg says, raising his eyebrows and signalling for Louis to begin.

“I need your advice.” He says, launching straight into the story with no preamble and not another thought for Becky.

Greg is silent for a few beats after Louis finishes, sipping thoughtfully on his soda and lime.

“Firstly, absolutely terrible first date. 0 out of 10, would not recommend.” He grins at Louis, who can’t help but smile back. Greg is infectiously funny and easy to be around, and in any other life they might have been perfect for one another. Unfortunately on any planet that contains Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson is effectively ruined for other men.

“Sorry, I know I’m totally taking liberties here, but I just needed advice.”

“Well lucky for you I used to run a Uni radio show on Sunday nights designed exclusively for lovelorn students in dire need of exactly that.”

“So what’s your prognosis?”

“I think what we need here is a gesture. And not just any gesture, you can’t get him a teddy-bear or a box of chocolates. You’re basically asking him to spend forever with you, minus the big marriage proposal, unless-”

“No, definitely not there yet.”

“Thought so. But you need something pretty spectacular.” He reaches into his bag for a pen and a few sheets of paper. “Let’s brainstorm.”

An hour and a half later Louis has a stack of notes and a brain buzzing with ideas. He says goodbye to Greg in the parking lot, thanking him profusely for being such a hero.

“No problem Louis, just make sure you send me a text when you get your guy. I’m rooting for you.”

Louis drives home, a new determination in his mind.

Day 94

Louis still hasn’t seen Harry. He’s been far too busy hiding in his flat to see anyone, in fact. Something which becomes blaringly obvious to him only when Zayn comes round, knocks on the door and demands to know if Louis has died.

“Unfortunately not, although that would be the answer to all of my problems.”

Zayn just shakes his head and pushes his way into the flat, wrinkling his nose at the mess.

“Louis, why is there a ukulele on your dining table?”

“I was learning to play. I heard it was romantic to learn an instrument for someone.”

Zayn nods slowly.

“And the easel?”

“I was painting a picture for Harry.”

“Of course you were.” He looks around again, “And dare I ask about that rather phallic shapes lump of clay in the corner?”

“It’s a vase.” Louis says, quite irate by now. “I’m channelling my creativity into winning Harry back.”

“Right, yes. Of course. You didn’t think of maybe, I don’t know, picking up the phone and telling him how you feel?”

Louis rolls his eyes and huffs, crossing his arms rather petulantly.

“Zayn I don’t think you quite understand the magnitude of-”

“He’s leaving.”

“He’s- he’s what?” Louis asks, stunned.

“He’s leaving, Lou. Thinks he needs a fresh start, or some other nonsense. Doesn’t help that some nosy woman you work with told him that you were already dating other people” Zayn shrugs, staring daggers at Louis, who is brandishing a ukulele, and looking gobsmacked.

“Shit I- shit. No, that was Greg he’s…he’s just a guy. He’s not a- he’s not a Harry. He’s a friend.” Zayn’s words bounce around in Louis’ head for a while. “Where’s he going.”

“Back home for a while he says, and then who knows. London maybe, Scotland again. He thinks he has no ties here.”

“But- but what about me?” Louis demands, sinking into a chair and dropping his head into his hands.

“He thinks,” says Zayn, sitting down beside him, “that you’ve given up.”

“Does this look like giving up? Does any of this look like giving up? I’ve written him a fucking sonnet! I’ve made him that penis vase! Zayn I’ve learn Damien Rice on the bloody ukulele.”

“Don’t tell me that! Tell him! Fucking hell Louis it’s never going to be perfect, it’s never going to be exactly right but unless you tell him now you’ll never get another chance.”

“But I need it to be perfect.” Louis whines, grabbing Zayn’s wrists. “I need it to be exactly right.”

“Well you’ve got 24 hours until his train back home.” Zayn stands up, voice unsympathetic. “Use it wisely.” He turns and walks out without another word, closing the door with a bang.

24 hours, Louis thinks, head back on the table.

-

“Don’t go Haz, please.” Niall says, desperately trying to unpack everything that Harry shoves into boxes and cases.

“Why not? What’s keeping me?”

“Well there’s….there’s…”

“There’s nothing.” Harry says softly, gently prying his clothes from Niall and stuffing them back into a suitcase. “My contract’s up at Cole’s, I don’t have anything else lined up…he doesn’t want me, Niall.”

“You don’t know that! He’s a stubborn prick, just like you.” Harry rolls his eyes and grabs his books from the side.

“What about me, huh? I’m here. I’m right here Haz. Why can’t I ever be enough?” Harry stops, books in hand.

“Niall you are enough, I just can’t be here right now. I love Louis. I can’t stop loving Louis if I see him every day. This is for the best.”

Niall throws himself down on the bed and lets out a strangled cry.

“You’re both so feckin’ stupid.” He whines into Harry’s pillow and prays to whatever gods may be that Louis has something up his sleeve.

-

Day 93

In the end there are no grand gestures, no impromptu flash dance in public, no rhyming couplets, no speeches prepared. There are only two boys alone on a platform. To an oblivious bystander it would look two complete strangers, sitting beside one another on a bench waiting for a train.

The boy with curly hair looks up when the other boy sits down, but doesn’t speak. The blue-eyed boy sits at the other end of the bench, flicks idly through the paper in his hand. The curly haired boy stares, clears his throat. The blue-eyed boy looks up, smiles as though seeing the other boy for the first time.

“Hello.” He says. Their eyes are locked together, so perhaps they’ve met before.

“Hello.” Says the curly haired boy softly, inching slowly closer.

“It’s a nice day.” The other boy says. Rain is beating heavily on the thin metal overhead and a harsh wind is blowing.

“Beautiful.” The curly haired boy agrees softly, though his words are almost lost over the din. They look at each other for a few seconds, but then the train pulls in and they stand up together to face it.

“So, where are you headed?” The blue eyed boy asks, smiling across at him.

“Home. I’m going home.” They step on the train together, the curly haired boy looks tentative as they take a seat side by side in an empty compartment. “Where are you going?”

Louis smiles, eyes as bright as they’ve ever been.

“I’m going wherever you’re going.”

And they look at each other with forever in their eyes, as the train pulls out of the station. Harry takes Louis' hand under the table, knowing that whatever they're heading towards they can handle. So long as they're together, they can handle anything.

Chapter Text

CH26:The One Where It’s Always Calmest Before The Storm

When Harry and Louis turn up on his mother’s doorstep, soaked through with rain and hands clasped tightly together and lugging Harry’s things behind them, she’s hardly surprised.

“Come in, you bad children. Come in.” She hugs them both tightly, despite the rain. Pepper emerges moments later from the kitchen and grabs them both in a death grip, whooping and laughing and calling them both fools of epic proportions. They are pushed and pulled into the kitchen, their jackets taken off and cups of steaming tea shoved into their hands.

It’s all rather overwhelming.

“Wait, how do you two know each other?” Harry asks in surprise when Pepper plonks herself down in Louis’ lap and ruffles his hair. Pepper raises her eyes at Louis, who blushes.

“What? Louis didn’t tell you about his little visit last week?”

Harry stares wide eyed at Louis, who just shrugs and takes a sip of his tea, not minding that it burns his tongue.

Anne shakes her head from where she’s standing propped against the stove.

“You’re a right pair, you know that?” But there is fondness burning in her eyes.

Harry supposed that they should have talked more on the train ride, but they had been too busy pressing their lips together hungrily, hands in each other’s hair, tongues sliding over the other. The ticket inspector had had to cough rather loudly to get their attention, but they hadn’t been embarrassed. Harry's heart was beating to the tune of Louis’ name, and even with miles ahead of them to his front door he felt like he was already home.

“Missed you.” Louis had said breathily, in between kisses

“You have no idea.” Harry had tipped Louis head back and nibbled desperately at his neck. It was all rather shameless and perfect and everything in between.

But now in Harry’s kitchen Louis feels a little shyer, a little more tentative in his behaviour. His and Harry’s knees knock together but apart from that they aren’t touching. Pepper looks at Anne slyly before jumping to her feet and rubbing her hands together.

“We should get going soon if we want to make it on time to the…the thing.” Anne looks confused for a beat before it clicks.

“Of course.” She pretends to check her watch. “Yeah, God, we better get a move on now. I’ll just grab my coat and then we can…you know...to the thing.” She kisses them both on the forehead and her and Pepper disappear out of the door. They hear the front door slam and a car start up in the driveway.

Harry rolls his eyes at that but he can’t hide his grin

“Haz I-” Louis begins, but Harry is on him before he can say another word, curling into his lap awkwardly and wonderfully and kissing him roughly. Louis responds at once, fingers tightening in Harry’s hair, tongue licking into the younger man’s mouth, moaning shamelessly at the contact.

It feels like drinking for the first time after being stuck in the desert. He hasn’t touched Harry in more than a month and now his skin is aching for it, his fingers sparking wherever he touches Harry.

“I need you.” Harry moans and Louis is already standing, allowing himself to be pulled out of the kitchen and upstairs into Harry’s room. He barely has time to take it in, the little features that make it Harry’s space, the childhood relics, before Harry is pushing him down onto his slim single bed and pinning him into place. Their chests are pressed together, as though Harry can’t bear to not be touching him as closely possible.

Louis hands ghost up Harry’s arms as he trembles underneath him. His heart is pumping mercilessly and his whole body burns with the contact.

“I love you.” He says, and Harry understands that he is saying so much more. I love you- I’m sorry- I need you-’ll never leave you again.

Harry undresses Louis slowly, carefully grazing his lips to every part of him that he’d missed. The jut of his hips, the softness of his navel, the crease of his elbow. He sucks red marks across the plains of Louis’ skin, relishing the moans that they elicit. When Louis reaches up to try and undress him, Harry only pins him down again, gently but firmly. He slips his shirt off so that they’re both topless, but leaves his own jeans on as he unbuttons Louis' and pulls them down past his ankles and throws them to the floor. He kneels in front of Louis, palm pressing down into his crotch, feeling Louis’ hardness, his hand wrapping slightly around the length of it. Even through the material it is heaven to Louis, and he feels like a heroin addict when the hit kicks. He shuts his eyes and arches up into Harry’s hand. Harry licks his lips and hooks his fingers into Louis’ boxers before pulling them off and throwing them to lie with the discarded jeans. Louis gasps as the air hits him, but there is no time to get used to the feeling before Harry’s mouth is on him.

It’s a fast and desperate act, his warm mouth engulfing Louis’ cock with no forewarning. Louis' hands come instinctively to rest in Harry’s hair, but he doesn’t push him down. He leans back and lets the sensation overwhelm him. Harry’s tongue teases patterns along his shaft, before he laps at the head. Louis’ trembles and bucks underneath him, moaning hoarsely, words dying on his lips. Harry keeps going, pressuring increasing, feeling intensifying until Louis screams out and comes as hard as he ever has in his life. He swims through it for a moment, the world a foggy pulsing mess around him. When he opens his mouth Harry is beside him, and their mouths meet again, tongues pressing together and Louis can taste himself on Harry and this fills him with happiness.

You are mine. I’m yours. I love you I love you I love you.

He pushes himself shakily off the bed and kneels, pushing Harry down and undressing him with trembling fingers. Harry watches him, revelling in the glassy eyes, the slack mouth, the wrecked and wild expression. But then he finishes taking off Harry’s clothes and grabs his cock and Harry forgets everything in the Universe except for Louis’ hand on him.

He starts slowly, dragging his fist up in measured pumps until Harry is hot and teased and almost begging. And then he stops, and sits back to watch him, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Harry whines and goes to touch himself but Louis is on him quickly, pressing his hands up above his head. Louis is stiffening again already, and he grinds down clumsily into Harry, their cocks grazing and slipping over one another. Louis slides down Harry’s body again, licking his hand before pumping his dick a few more times.

“Lube.” He says and Harry nods, twisting his body awkwardly to open the drawer next to his bed. He pulls out a little box which he throws onto the bed beside Louis. Louis opens it one handed, still jacking Harry. He extracts a bottle of lube, taking his hand away from Harry’s dick to pump some onto his index finger. He licks his lips and spreads Harry’s legs a little. With his unlubed hand he grasps Harry’s cock, his other finger probing gently underneath Harry, behind his balls and towards his hole. Harry gasps a little at the coolness of it, but Louis doesn’t hesitate as he pushes his finger up inside. He puts it in only an inch, kissing Harry’s velvety smooth dick softly as he thrusts his fingertip in and out slowly. Then without warning he takes Harry all the way into his mouth whilst at the same time pushing his entire index finger into Harry’s hole. Harry moans and pushes his head back into the pillow. There is something about seeing him like this, so desperate for more that stops Louis in his tracks. He grabs the lube and dribbles a little more on his fingers, before adding a second and slowly opening him up. Harry gasps and pushes against his hand, his untouched cock dribbling against his stomach.

“You wanna come, baby?” Louis asks, pumping his fingers slowly in and out. Harry nods, hands at his side itching to touch himself. Louis props himself up on his free arm and expertly takes Harry into his mouth, sucking and fingering him until his orgasm hits and he moans loudly and desperately, biting the pillow in pleasure.

Louis takes his fingers out gently, grabbing a tissue from Harry’s bedside table to wipe his hand. Harry is still breathing deeply, eyes closed, so Louis pulls on his boxers and leaves him for a second to go into the bathroom and get them both a drink. He comes back in a moment later and feeds Harry little sips of the water before taking a gulp himself. He starts to shiver. Putting the water on the bedside table he pulls the duvet cover out from under Harry and throws it over them both. He snuggles into Harry’s warm body, resting his head on his broad chest, his lips in line with the butterfly.

Harry is breathing deeply, contentedly, and his hands reach down to stroke Louis’ hair.

“Love you, Lou.” He says softly.

“Love you.” Louis replies, and shuts his eyes.

They both sleep more peacefully than they have in months.

Day 90

Louis and Harry are still at Anne’s, reluctant to let go of the safety and security that it represents. They know that going back to Manchester will mean difficult conversations, mature decisions and facing up to the shambles of the last few months.

So they allow themselves the tranquillity of hiding in Harry’s room, relearning each other’s bodies and generally not spending more than a few moments apart. Louis has discovered something buried in his own character, a needy, desperate quality that exists only for Harry and manifests as a physical pain when the boy isn’t within touching distance. Even worse when he’s out of the house entirely, as he discovers to his horror when Harry and Anne go to the supermarket to do the weekly shop.

Pepper comes across him lying on the sofa, snuggling one of Harry’s jumpers.

“Separation anxiety?” She asks, plonking herself down beside him.

“I don’t understand what’s happening. I wasn’t like this before.” He whines, shifting to give her more room. She rubs his ankles reassuringly and laughs.

“You didn’t know what it was like to be apart then.” She says matter-of-factly and not for the first time Louis wonders if she’s the most intelligent person he’s ever met.

But then the door slams and he’s on his feet before you can say ‘worryingly co-dependant’. He runs out into the entrance hall where Harry is toeing off his shoes, arms full of shopping. He throws his arms around his neck without another word. He hears Pepper laughing from the sofa.

“Honestly you two.” Anne says shaking her head, though there’s fondness in her voice. They pull apart, grinning widely and Louis grabs the shopping bags from her hands and marches into the kitchen, Harry close behind.

“I’ve never seen someone so eager to get home before.” Anne says to Pepper as they follow the boys into the kitchen. When the shopping’s unloaded Harry makes Louis a cup of tea and they curl up on the sofa together to watch some TV. Louis lies in front of Harry, who cuddles him from behind and kisses his neck at regular intervals. Pepper tries to sit in the same room, but abandons ship after 10 minutes. (“You’re too in love. It’s frightening.” She says, before going to find Anne.)

Louis wriggles around so he’s facing Harry.

“Are we frightening? Are you frightened?” He asks, picking at a non-existant thread on Harry’s t-shirt. Harry smiles and kisses his forehead.

“Terrified. But only that you’ll go again.”

“Never never never.” Louis says, burying his head in Harry’s neck. Harry’s large hands rub Louis’ back reassuringly.

“Me neither. Not ever.”

Louis pulls back a little, looking into Harry’s eyes.

“I don’t want us to mess this up again, Haz. I couldn’t do it again, us being apart.”

Harry nods sternly, nibbling his lip thoughtfully.

“We’ll be smarter this time. No lies.”

Louis hums in agreement.

“And no running away.”

“But you’re all tanned and lovely.” Harry says, nibbling at Louis’ ear. When Louis laughs he pulls back. “You know I don’t blame you for going, Lou. If space was what you needed then I’m happy you could get away.”

Louis smiles.

“It was what I needed, and travelling was amazing, I can see why you almost didn’t come home. But every place I went, no matter how beautiful it was, always felt like it was lacking something. I realized on the flight home that that something was you.”

Harry smiles, heart swelling in his chest.

“One day we'll go together.”

And he so intends to keep that promise.

Day 88

The drive back to Manchester is surprisingly fun. Anne insists on taking them (and all of Harry’s belongings) back to the city.

“It’s the only way I’m sure to get rid of you!” She jokes as Harry and Louis clamber into the backseat.

Pepper is already fiddling with the radio. “How is it possible to have Radio 2 programmed three times into this thing?” She asks Harry and Louis in exasperation.

They discover very quickly that Pepper Miller does not do well without constant entertainment. After two rounds of I Spy and a car sing-a-long, Harry is just about ready to open the door and throw himself onto the motorway. After Anne boycotts the singing Pepper has to content herself with telling stories.

“And then he challenged me to a drinking competition, which was a big mistake.” Louis shoots her an impressed look.

“You should meet Niall.” Harry says, “Never met a pint he didn’t like.”

“You know, that’s a point love.” Anne says, as she waits at a roundabout. “You could always pop in and spend a few days with those lot? I could drive down to Gem’s for a few nights then come by and get you after?”

Pepper thinks about it for a few seconds before beaming widely.

“Fuck yes!”

Louis and Harry can’t help but share her enthusiasm, and Anne only admonishes her gently for her language.

Day 87

As it turns out, Pepper Miller’s enthusiasm is not without its casualties.

When Harry wakes the next day, still in last night’s clothes, his head is pounding and his mouth is horribly dry. He is hanging half off the sofa in his and Niall’s flat, hand dangling in a bowl of crisps. He pushes himself up and wobbles to the sink, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it desperately. He hears a moan behind him and turns to see Louis curled up around a bucket in the corner of the kitchen, head propped on a folded coat.

“Baby what did we do last night?” Louis croaks and Harry shrugs, sitting down beside Louis and stroking his hair.

Just then the front door opens and they look up to see a criminally cheerful Pepper Miller waltz through the door, followed close behind by an equally chipper Niall Horan.

“Morning lovelies.” She says, plonking herself down in a chair and crossing her legs.

“Where have you been?” Harry asks accusingly, rubbing his temples.

“We went for a kick-about in the park.” Niall answers, pulling open the fridge and grabbing two bottles of water. “This one’s better than most of the guys down there.”

Louis retches a little into the bucket, but brings nothing up.

“Louis mate you don’t look so clever.” Niall says seriously, throwing a bottle of water to Pepper who catches it without looking up and opens it one-handed.

“Not everyone can handle the Red Hot Milli-Peppers.” Pepper says sternly, wiping her mouth.

“The…what?” Louis asks, though he dreads an answer.

“The Red Hot Milli-Peppers.” Niall says seriously, taking a seat beside her at the table. “Pepper’s signature cocktail. You don’t remember? Makes sense, you were on another planet last night.”

“The three Niall In The Coffins that you had probably didn’t help matters.” Pepper adds quietly, and Niall grins at her.

“Classic night though. I think Zayn’s still in the bathtub. Not sure about Liam though.”

As if on cue the balcony door slides open and a dishevelled looking Liam Payne trudges through, a look of pure displeasure on his face.

“Never…drinking…again.” He says, taking a seat besides Niall and burying his head in his arms.

They sit in silence for a few seconds, and Niall is about to open his mouth to suggest they order in for breakfast, when a loud yelp echoes across them. A few moments later a soaking wet Zayn Malik marches into the kitchen, scowling, fringe dripping onto his face.

“I leant on the fucking tap.” He says, and takes a seat on the floor, head dripping into his boyfriend’s lap.

“This is probably a bad time to ask if anyone fancies going to the pub.” Pepper says, cowering as they all glare at her (except for Niall of course, who looks genuinely interested.)

Day 85

In the end it’s Jack Payne who comes up with a solution.

It’s Pepper’s last day and they’re having a barbeque in Liam’s garden to say goodbye. Pepper is dressed rather fetchingly in a huge white t-shirt with a lobster on it, and a pair of denim dungarees. (Since she’d failed to bring any of her own clothes she was forced to raid a charity shop to tide her over.)

One of Pepper’s (seemingly endless) talents is entertaining children, and her and Jack hit it off immediately.

“She’s one of a kind.” Liam tells Harry, flipping burgers as they watch Pepper and Jack play a few feet away. Harry sips his drink and nods.

“Can’t argue with that.” He’ll miss Pepper more than he’s willing to admit. There’s something so soothing about her, and her constant presence seems to do wonders for his and Louis’ relationship, with the older man coming to rely on her as much as he does.

They watch as Pepper tickles Jack into submission before bending down so he can jump on her back.

“Alright chaps.” She says to Liam and Harry, mimicked moments later by Jack, who is clinging to her tightly.

“Hello you two.” Liam says, bopping his son on the nose and shooting Pepper a wide grin. “You hungry Jack?”

“Starved.” He says dramatically, and Pepper leans down to let him off. He pulls up his own dungarees and shoots inside, shouting for Zayn. Niall emerges moments later with two beers, one of which he hands to Pepper, who opens it with her teeth.

“Urgh, how do you do that?” Liam asks, grimacing. She shrugs. Harry doesn’t miss the way that Niall stares at her in awe.

-

Pepper sits by Jack at dinner, helping him to cut his food and generally fielding all of his awkward questions.

“Is there a God, Pepper?” He asks through a mouthful of chicken.

“There is if you want there to be.”

He nods sagely. “And what about heaven? What’s heaven like?”

She thinks for a moment before answering.

“Heaven,” she says, “is probably exactly like this.”

That earns a smile from everyone around the table, and Jack seems satisfied, focusing his attention of his plate piled high with food.

-

It’s only later, when the sun is going down and they’re wrapped in jumpers on Liam’s porch, that the issue of Pepper leaving arises.

“When’s mum coming to get you, again?” Harry asks, Jack curled up in his lap.

“Tomorrow at noon.” She says, sipping from a can of coke which she’s sharing with Niall.

Jack looks up rather sadly.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Harry’s mum’s place for a bit, and then who knows.”

Jack scrunches up his face at that.

“Why don’t you just stay here? You can sleep on my bottom bunk! If Daddy can have a friend to stay then so can I!” He reasons, sitting up slightly to boing Harry’s curls.

Harry thinks for a moment, forehead knitting together.

“You know…it’s not the craziest idea. Not about the bunk bed,” he adds hastily, “But about you staying. In Manchester I mean.”

She looks up from her drink to stare at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?” Louis asks from his chair. “What’s so crazy about it? You’ll be leaving Anne’s eventually and looking for somewhere to start over; why not here?”

She looks down at her lap, fierce concentration on her face. “Where would I live?” She asks, and there is silence whilst they all think.

“Move in with me.” Niall says suddenly, and they all stare at him (except for Jack who is too busy drawing a moustache on Harry with his colouring pens, the adult conversation far too boring).

She gawks at him.

“Aren’t you forgetting-” She tips her head towards Harry, who is looking scandalised. Niall raises his eyebrows at his friend.

“You're over at Louis’ 99% of the time." He turns to the others. "And we all know they’re weeks away from making it official. Why not just...speed things up.”

Harry turns to look at Louis, who looks frozen in place. He’s silent for a few seconds before he nods slowly.

“I can’t talk for Harry…but I’m game if he is.” If not for the small child in his lap, Harry would probably have jumped up and kissed him. He settles for nodding enthusiastically (causing Jack to draw a line all the way up his nose).

“Let’s do it.”

And that’s how Pepper Miller and Niall Horan become roommates, and how Louis and Harry take the next step in their relationship at the behest of their best friends.

Harry will bring this moment up, 6 years later, at Niall and Pepper’s wedding, rather tearfully in his best man’s speech, and Pepper will roll her eyes and throw cake at him. It will seem a distant memory then, an almost forgotten moment in history, but for now the future is glittering and bright, wonderfully uncertain as it stretches out ahead.

Chapter Text

CH27:The One Where Life Begins Again With The Changing Leaves

Day 70

Pepper and Niall have been living together for almost 2 weeks, and things are going smoothly. Perhaps too smoothly, if you’re to believe Harry.

“And he actually cooks for her. He cooks for her Louis. He never once cooked for me. I went round the other day and do you know what he was doing? Guess Louis, guess.” Louis shrugs. “He was hoovering. Niall Horan was hoovering. It’s not natural.” He huffs into his cereal and Louis can’t help but smile.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous! I’m not. I’m just…I’m just…”

“Oh poor baby.” Louis says, getting up out of his seat and kissing Harry on the forehead, before taking his plate to the sink.

It’s the end of August and the end of the holidays are looming. The weather is still warm, but the dry heat of midsummer is over, and Harry is busy looking for work.

“I could always put in a good word at Cole’s. They loved you there, I’m sure they could find something.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to be doing odd jobs anymore. I need something with a future, you know?”

Louis nods and sits down beside his boyfriend, massaging his shoulder comfortingly.

“Well what would your dream be? Like, if you could do anything.”

Harry thinks for a moment, tugging at his lip.

“I think I’ve been running away from that question since I was 18 years old. I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

-

If Harry thinks Louis was just offering him a supportive platitude, he’s dead wrong. Louis arrives back home from the library later that day with a stack of career pamphlets, a selection of books about University courses and internships, as well as a banana milkshake for his boyfriend.

“What? It’s important to me that my soulmate is happy.”

Harry had just grinned and set to work turning pages in search of his destiny.

An hour and forty minutes later he’s still none the wiser.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to be a dog whisperer? There’s supposedly very good money in that.”

“I don’t think Eddie would ever forgive me.” Harry says, cuddling the fattest of Louis’ cats in his lap. “How do people know what they want to do with their whole lives? Like, how did you know?”

Louis shrugs. “Just did. It makes me happy, simple as that. What makes you happy?”

“Uh…being with you?” He says, leaning over to kiss him. Eddie meows and runs away. Eddie may be a little homophobic.

Louis laughs. “I’ll pay you to just stay home and make me muffins and clean.”

“Maybe when we have kids.” Harry says, nonchalantly flipping back through a book about Open University courses. Louis freezes in his seat.

“Kids? You…you think about us having kids?”

“Of course.” He says, not looking up. “Do you think I’d be good at data analysis?”

“Um…no. What is that?” He tries to get his head back in the game, but all he can think about is Harry with a curly haired toddler in his arms. For some reason it doesn’t terrify him half as much as it should.

-

It’s past midnight when Harry finally figures it out.                                     

“Louis- Louis I know what I want to do.”

Louis jolts awake, lifting his head from where it had been resting on a stack of books and looking blearily towards Harry.

“Huh?”

“I know what I want to do with my life.”

Louis rubs his eyes and smiles.

“That’s great Haz. What?”

“I want to do what you do.”

“You want to…do what I do? You want to teach at Cole’s?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not at Cole’s, necessarily. But somewhere. Like, I want to help give people a direction. Does that sound stupid?”

“No baby. That sounds pretty perfect to me. Now get your arse into bed. I think you deserve a blowjob.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice.

Day 60

Louis wakes Harry up with breakfast on the morning of his first day. Thanks to Louis’ charm and perseverance Harry had been able to get a place on one of the teaching programmes beginning at the start of September.

“How you feeling?” Louis asks, setting down a tray of slightly overcooked eggs on toast.

“Nervous.” Harry says, picking up the toast and nibbling on it.

“You’ll be fine.”

Harry nods, and shifts over to give Louis room to sit back on the bed. Harry had been extra clingy the night before, crowding Louis over onto his side of the bed, arms and legs thrown over him, face buried in his neck. It was comforting, being so close to Louis. It had helped him calm his jitters and drift off.

Harry eats whilst Louis sips his tea and reads the paper. It’s so wonderfully domestic, and Harry wonders when his life got so figured out.

“I’ll drop you off and pick you up later, alright.” Louis says and Harry nods through his mouthful, his stomach churning a little. As if reading his mind Louis leans in and kisses him on the cheek gently. “You’ll be great.”

-

Harry’s building is near to the University, but not a part of the official campus. Louis insists of walking him all the way there, and Harry clings to his hand the whole way.

When they get to the front doors Louis makes him take a deep breath, gives him a kiss and pushes him inside.

“Go. Be inspiring. I love you.” He calls out.

Harry walks to the receptionist and gives her his name. She smiles warmly and directs him to a small waiting room down the hall, where he takes a seat next to a nervous looking guy in a white shirt and blue jeans. They smile shyly at each other and sit in silence.

The induction is actually a lot more fun than Harry had anticipated. It’s headed up by a small bubbly woman called Karen, who insists that they all wear name tags and stand in a circle and hold hands. After everyone introduces themselves Karen runs them through some breathing exercises, then sits them down in small groups to look over the syllabus.

There are a few months of seminars and lectures to get through, and then they’re put on placements at schools around the city. It looks tough, no doubt, but Harry remembers Louis’ words. Be inspiring. He focuses hard for the rest of the day.

-

When Louis picks him up Niall and Pepper have tagged along too, though they’re too busy arguing over a packet of chocolate buttons to notice his arrival at first.

“How was it?” Louis asks, stretching up on his tiptoes to kiss him.

“Good. Great, actually. I think I’m going to be a teacher.”

Louis beams, and whacks Niall round the head.

“Get in the car, children.”

Pepper and Niall quiz Harry constantly on the way to home, and Harry tries not to be too unnerved by the way that they’re already finishing each other’s sentences.

He tells them everything about what he did and who he met, right down to the exact detail of what he ate for lunch.

“A BLT sandwich from the cafeteria.”

“Niiice.” Pepper and Niall say together.

When Harry opens the door to his and Louis’ flat (something that still gives him butterflies when he says it out loud) he is greeted by Zayn and Liam, who shower him with confetti and streamers. There is a banner on the wall that reads “Congratulations On Your Promotion!”. Zayn shrugs apologetically.

“Best we could find.”

There’s party food and drink set out on the table, as well as a bottle of fizzy wine from Niall and Pepper. (“We wanted to get you tequila but Louis said no.”)

Harry thanks them all profusely, and lets Liam put a little party hat over his curls.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” He says as they all take their seat round the table.

“Course we did.” Zayn says. “What are friends for?”

And as he looks around the table at the people present, he can’t help but feel warm and light inside, as though everything he had ever wished for was right here in arms reach. He takes a handful of crisps and listens as Liam and Zayn tell everyone about the trip to Tenerife that they’d taken for Liam’s birthday a couple of weeks before, laughing as Pepper demands to see their tan lines. He positively glows when Louis takes his hand under the table, and when Niall makes a speech he thinks his heart will burst with joy.

“And that’s why Harry’s the best person on the planet.” Niall finishes, taking a bow and sitting back down. Harry has to wipe his eyes subtly on his napkin, and Louis squeezes his hand tighter.

“Jesus, guys, I don’t know what to say. All I did was go in and make small talk for a few hours.”

Everyone laughs and Liam reaches over to squeeze his shoulder.

“Not everybody comes back from where you’ve been. We’re proud of you, that’s all.” It should be a sweet moment, but it’s swiftly ruined by Niall spilling Cherryade all over Pepper’s lap and her pushing him out of his chair.

Louis takes advantage of the chaos to lean over and whisper softly in Harry’s ear.

“I’ve got a different celebration lined up for later.”

He goes to his seminar the next day with two dark purple love bites, one of his neck and one on the inside of his thigh.

Day 53

Zayn had always assumed that living with someone else would be horrible. Sure, he’d managed it at Uni, but he’d been younger then, less particular. And he’d had Louis to distract him when communal living became too much. When he’d moved into his own place after graduation he had found the solitude to be blissful. There was something relaxing about not having to worry about other people, about being able to walk around in any state of undress, or blare his music top volume.

But when Liam had asked him to move in there had been no more than one beat of trepidation, one moment of doubt before he had accepted. And he hadn't once looked back.

It takes them a month or so to finalise things, to put Zayn’s place on the market and to get Jack used to the idea. But eventually the day comes, and Zayn sits alone in his flat for the last time. The boxes are packed up, his furniture is in crates ready to be loaded into the van, and the last 3 years of his life are echoing around him for the last time.

He gets up from the floor and walks slowly around the flat, trailing a hand over the dark wallpaper, thumbing at the edge of the black countertop. He goes into his bedroom, and is taken aback by how small it seems without his belongings in it, how insignificant.

I fell in love in this room. He thinks. I fell apart here too.

He goes over to the window, leans against the wall and looks out at the carpark and the road below, realises with a jolt that this is not his view anymore. He’ll have a new view now, out onto a residential road, a cul-de-sac of pretty little houses. There’ll be no more views of drunk students staggering home, or of decked out cars driving far too fast, blasting their music into empty morning air. When he looks out of the window at Liam’s he’ll see families out walking the dog or children playing on their bikes and scooters.

Zayn Malik is not alone anymore, and the thought stirs something deep within him. The door opens behind him and he turns. Liam grins at him from the other side of the room, dressed in paint stained dungarees and pristine Timbalands.

“Ready to go?” He asks. Zayn smiles and walks towards him, tangling their fingers together.

“More ready than you’ll ever know.”

Day 30

Harry has his first assessment, and to say he’s nervous would be an understatement. He wakes up early to the sounds of birds, and looks over at Louis, who is fast asleep beside him.  He sinks back into the pillow, wide awake and already jittery. He checks the clock. It's 5:15. He still has a few more hours until his alarm goes off.

Treading softly so as to avoid waking Louis, he pads out of the room and into the kitchen. Fox is already awake, prowling around the house, stretching and preening. He strokes her for a while, before putting on the kettle. It’s starting to get colder outside, and the leaves on the trees are losing their greens to oranges and yellows. He’ll need to start taking a coat soon, and Louis will begin to plan the Christmas play. It strikes him suddenly how fast the times gone, since he and Louis had first lain eyes on each other in the pub one January afternoon. It's all so inconsequential when it feels like they've known each other an eternity. 

The last month of Harry’s course has been a wonderful, manic blur, and the friends he’s made will probably stick with him for a while. He feels grounded for the first time in a very long time, and he knows that Louis is the root cause of this contentedness. For the first time since he was 18 years old he feels like he isn’t running. He feels like he’s home.

The kettle clicks and he pours himself a cup of tea. The sky is growing lighter outside and there is a steady orchestra of traffic from the road below. He pulls on a jacket and goes out onto the small balcony, enjoying the crispness of the morning. He takes a sip from his tea and watching the steam make spirals as it rises.

He looks up when the door slides open again.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asks, as Louis takes a seat beside him.

“No. I just turned over and you weren’t there. Don’t sleep well when you’re not with me.”

Harry sets down his tea on the floor and opens his arms. Louis squashes himself into Harry’s lap, curling up small and resting his head in the crook of the taller man’s neck. He’s pulled on one of Harry’s jumpers over his pyjamas, and the long sleeves run on past his hands, covering them completely.

They sit like that for a while, until Harry’s tea cools completely and they start to feel chilly.

“Shower together?” Harry asks, and Louis just smiles, takes his hand and leads him to the bathroom.

-

Louis gives him a quick pep talk before he lets him out of the car.

“I’ll pick you up normal time,” He calls, and Harry grins and looks around before blowing him a kiss and running indoors.

Louis doesn’t stop smiling until he reaches Cole’s. He doesn’t have a lesson until after break, so he heads to the staff room and makes himself a cup of tea. There’s nobody else in there, but since there’s a staff meeting in 20 minutes it makes sense to wait.

He’s just washing up his cup at the sink when he hears someone say his name behind him. When he looks around he sees Niall, his smile as bright as ever.

“Alright Ni, how’s it going?”

“Good thanks. You excited for the staff meeting?”

“Err, no? Should I be?”

“No, but you never know, might be some good news.”

Before he has a chance to grill him the door opens and people start streaming in. He takes a seat back at the table and turns his chair to face the front, where the heads of department are all standing.

They run through the usual things first, small notices about inspections and deadlines and Louis tries to keep focused but really, he’s sat through about a hundred of these and they never get any better.

“And we also have a bit of exciting news about staffing.” It’s Jenny Bond, and her voice is as nasal as ever. She clears her throat. “From the start of next term Niall Horan is joining us a fulltime music teacher!”

Louis’ head whips round to where Niall is sitting, grinning like a madman. Everyone claps and cheers, genuinely pleased by the news. Louis mouths a well done at him and joins in the applause. When everyone else has cleared out he marches over to him and gives him a tight hug.

“Why didn’t you say anything! How long’ve you known?”

“Couple of weeks. I didn’t wanna spoil the surprise, ya know. And I kept thinking they were gunna change their minds and all.”

“As if Ni, you’re perfect for the job. So this means no more free drinks in the new year?”

“Afraid so. I can teach you to play guitar though, it’s a lot cooler than the piano, and easier to get round.”

“Cheeky git. Ah I’m so pleased for you. Does Harry know?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet. Was thinking we could celebrate later, if you two aren’t busy? Zayn and Liam seem keen.”

“Of course, perfect. I’ll give Harry a text now, if you like? Well done man, really.” He squeezes Niall’s shoulder again before they go their separate ways. He shoots off a quick message to Harry when he gets to his office.

Niall’s been promoted! Celebrations tonight. Hope ur assessment was good. Wish you were here xx

He’s barely put his phone down when he gets a response.

I’ll be there in a second. Hope my keycard still works.

Louis frowns down at the text and stands up in his chair. He’s only halfway across the room when the door opens and Harry steps in.

“What are you-” Louis begins, but he’s cut off mid-sentence by Harry’s mouth on his. They stumble back towards Louis’ desk, tripping slightly, hands tight around one another.

“Hi.” Harry says breathlessly, pulling away.

“Err, hi.” Louis responds, heart hammering. “What are you doing here?”

“They let us out early after we finished our assessment. Needed to see you.”

There is something wicked in Harry’s eyes, and Louis swallows and bites his lip.

“Lock the door.” He says.

Harry darts back across the room, locking the door and shrugging off his coat onto to the floor before grabbing Louis and pushing him around to the other side of the desk. Louis groans as Harry grabs his hips and lifts him up onto the desk. Louis wraps his legs around Harry as they kiss, sliding his hands up under his shirt to trace along the lines of his muscles.

Harry pulls back slightly, lips red and puffy, slipping Louis’ braces off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt. Louis goes to take off his glasses but Harry growls at him.

“Leave them on.”

There’s something in his voice that fills Louis with urgency, and they undress each other hastily. Louis slips off the desk and down onto his knees in front of a naked Harry Styles. Harry breathes in sharply as Louis grabs his cock and sucks gently on the head. He stiffens completely, throwing his head back and inhaling deeply. His muscles dance and tense above Louis, who sucks him deeper a few times before standing. 

“Lube?” He says, breathlessly, and Harry gestures desperately to his trousers on the floor. Louis pulls out the wallet from the back pocket and extracts two sachets of lube and a condom. He positions himself behind Harry, and bends him down over the desk, using his foot to push Harry’s legs apart further. He kisses along Harry’s spine as he opens one packet of lube and coats his fingers. He strokes along Harry’s arse, before finding the warm hole and pushing into it with no preamble. Harry sucks in a breath and adjusts his arms on the table, pushing back slightly onto Louis hand. Louis sucks a bruise onto Harry’s back as he adds another finger, the tightness so perfect around his fingers.

“More.” Harry breathes, though he’s barely used to the first two. He wants Louis in a carnal, desperate way and two fingers just won't cut it. His cock is painfully hard in front of him Louis nips at his skin before obliging, stretching him out slowly but surely. He squeezes a little more lube onto his fingers before he continues, despite Harry’s pleas to be fucked. Louis can’t resist tugging at his own cock a few times, and Harry does the same. When Harry begs for a second time Louis pulls out his fingers and reaches for the condom. Harry’s hands close on it first and he rips it open quickly, turning towards Louis and sliding it on before bending back over obediently.

“We have to be quiet Harry.” Louis says roughly, as he squeezes some lube onto his dick and lines himself up. He pushes into Harry torturously slowly, the initial pressure on the head of his cock sending pulsing waves of pleasure through him. Harry lets out a low moan, before clapping his own hand over his mouth.

“That’s a good boy.” Louis breathes, inching in further still. He stops and pulls out ever so slightly, and Harry’s hand bangs on the table desperately. Louis bites his lip and plunges all the way in, causing Harry to jolt and flatten out on the desk. Louis fucks into him hard for several thrusts, feeling dizzy and light headed with the sensation. He bends down slightly and fucks into Harry from a different angle, and he feels the boy below him tense and let out a hoarse cry. He pulls out and pushes back in again, and Harry shudders underneath him, cock twitching as his orgasm hits. Louis feels Harry tense around him and he lets the wave of his own orgasm come. They stay joined for a few heady seconds, before Louis pulls out and Harry collapses rather awkwardly onto the floor.

“Fuck.” He says, face red and mouth slack. His hair is pushed back from his face in sweaty spirals and his eyes are unfocused and glassy. Louis pulls off the condom and ties it off before throwing it into the bin. He feels unsteady on his feet and sinks to the floor beside Harry. He grabs Harry’s boxers and hands them to him, before pulling on his own. They lie together side by side, hearts hammering in unison as they come back to earth.

“Best detention ever.” Harry breathes, and they both wheeze with laughter.

-

When Harry calls Niall to congratulate him, he expects to be guilt-tripped into a big drunken night out on the town. Instead, Niall suggests dinner.

“Dinner?” Harry asks uncertainly, wondering if this is some kind of new street slang for illegal drugs.

“Yeah, you know, food, drink, everyone sits down at a table? Dinner. Peps is cooking.”

“Um, yeah. Dinner sounds great.”

And it is great. More than great, in fact, and Harry starts to realise that the people with him around the table are some of the most important people to him on the entire planet. Pepper makes them some wonderful Thai dish that she learnt abroad, and Harry teases Louis for not bringing back any of the same skills from that part of the world.

“Hey, I was soul searching.” But he had laughed along with everyone else.

When dinner is finished they all curl up together on the sofas and watch a film. Pepper and Niall argue playfully about which movie to pick, though they shut up pretty quickly when Zayn tells them to stop having a domestic and get a move on.

“Not a domestic.” Niall murmurs, as he takes his seat next to Louis and Harry. They don’t have the heart to correct him.

-

“Do you think he knows he’s in love with her?” Louis asks Harry later, when they’re back in bed. Harry looks up from his textbook, his face thoughtful.

“I don’t think he does. But then again, she hasn’t clocked either. Bloody useless the pair of them.”

“Well we can hardly talk, took us long enough.”

“But it’s romantic this way.” Harry insists, setting his book on the bedside table and pulling Louis into a cuddle. “Like, good love stories are never simple Lou. That’s the point. We’re like Romeo and Juliet, without the suicide. We’re like Jonny Cash and June Carter, Barack and Michelle. Miley and Liam.”

“Miley and Liam broke up.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Unimportant. We’re star crossed lover, Lou. It’s practically the law that we have to fight for each other.”

“Oh shut up and kiss me.”

They don’t speak for the rest of the night, and when they fall asleep they both dream of angels.

In Louis’ dream he is sitting at the station, waiting for a train. He has no bags and his pockets are empty. There is nobody around him. A huge clock ticks rhythmically above his head, too slowly to be counting seconds. The air smells like mint and smoke and summer and Louis’ heart is full of Harry.

A white dove swoops down to land on the floor a few feet away from Louis, and it pecks the ground a few times before turning its eyes up to look at him. It coos a little sadly, cocks its head and flaps its wings again, alighting on the empty train tracks. There is silence for a few moments and then someone says Louis’ name behind him. He turns his head. An old ticket inspector smiles warmly at him, his arm outstretched, an orange slip in his hand. There is something so familiar in the old man’s eyes.
“For you.” He says and his voice is like honey and light. Louis reaches out and takes the ticket. He looks up to thank the stranger, but he is gone and Louis is alone again. He turns the paper over in his hand. It is empty but for one word.

Home.

He reads it and understands. He can hear the train coming and he gets to his feet. The bird looks up sadly from the tracks.

He wakes up then, and it’s still the middle of the night. He reaches for Harry and folds his body around him. He falls asleep again.

Harry meanwhile is dreaming of the end of the world. The sky is shaking and everything burns. He is shouting and crying and stumbling, searching for blue in a world of blackness. He is on a bridge, and he can hear the metal screaming around him. He hears the thunder behind him and tries to run, but his legs are weak and he trips and falls. The bridge lurches to the side and he tries to cling on but he knows this is the end.

The world shifts again and he is tipping, falling, and he knows he can’t hold on. As he falls to certain death he doesn’t see his life flash before his eyes. He doesn’t hear God. He doesn’t feel peace. He sees nothing but the inky black sky and the burning lights of the city in front as his body cuts through the air and hurtles towards the punishing water below.

And then it is the beginning of the end.

He feels the impact. He feels his body break and his lungs collapse and the terrible pressure in his head as it begins. There is nothing but noise and black fire and stabbing cold for what seems like an eternity before finally finally he feels himself beginning to go. The white hot light behind his eyelids dims. The pain is someone else’s now, and it floats away like ink into the current. There is nothing but space, and his soul only snags a little as it swims clear of his body. The darkness is almost complete and he finds he can still breathe a little as purple light envelops him.

He can see something moving in the water in front of him, someone swimming closer. Any moment now, any second now and it will all be over. Closer, closer. Almost here. He tips his head a little, suspended as he is in space and his tired eyes search the heavy gloom. The figure in the dark swims closer and closer until finally he’s almost there and his arms are reaching out, ready to take every blistering memory away.

I’m ready.

The words ring uncertainly around them in dark. I’m ready now. And the figure comes closer still and his arms reach out and his head tips back and suddenly the world is a chaos of red and orange lights and the water is real again and choking and fucking freezing and his bones ache as they fuse back together and as he is dragged upwards he sees only one thing in the dark water; two burning blue eyes.

And if he knows what this means it is forgotten when he awakens a moment later, sobbing and shaking in the arms of his boyfriend, who holds him and kisses him and soothes him back to safety, back to light.

Chapter Text

CH28:The One Where Neither Of Them Could Ever Help It

Day 6

Clara and Harry Styles meet on a Tuesday. It is a normal Tuesday by all accounts. The frost has just started to settle, and the Manchester air is bitterly crisp and cold. Harry is just stepping outside on his lunch break when he hears his name being called behind him.

He turns and sees a woman standing a few feet away. Her hair is pearl-white and her skin shines brightly in the dim afternoon light. She’s wearing only a thin white shirt and black trousers, but she doesn’t shiver.

“Hello?” He says, uncertainly, taking a small step towards her.

“I’m sorry.” She says, dark eyes burning into his. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He asks, expression confused. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I know you. And I’m sorry. Because it’s harder for you, in the end. I’ve only just realised it. It’s harder for the people left behind.”

“What is? What’s harder? Are you alright, God you must be freezing.” He reaches out a hand to her and her lip wobbles.

“I shouldn’t have come. I’m just sorry.” She turns on her heel and walks quickly into the building.

Harry follows her, but when he opens the door and looks down the corridor she is nowhere to be found.

-

She reappears with a flash of light 30 miles away, in the carpark of a service station. Archie appears several seconds later, thunder in his eyes.

“What are you playing at Clara? Talking to him? Do you have any idea-” 

“You knew- you knew didn’t you?" She turns on him angrily. You knew what was going to happen all along.” Her voice is sharp, accusatory. He freezes, arms dropping to his side.

“Clara I can explain-”

“That’s why you didn’t want to help, that’s why you left it to me- because you knew.” Clara’s voice is harsh and cold. Archie shakes his head desperately.

“No, I swear it’s not like that. I didn’t know, not for certain. I thought there was still a chance.” He reaches for her but she steps away.

“Don’t. Don’t.” Her lip wobbles but she doesn’t cry. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t it just be fucking easy.” She turns away from him and the first tear falls. He comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. She doesn’t pull away.

“We just have to trust that what’s meant to happen will happen. We have to trust, Clara.”

She sniffs and turns towards him, their faces only inches apart.

“How did it really happen? How did you really die?” He flinches and looks away for a beat before his eyes lock onto hers again.

“I was just trying to get a lift.” And with that they vanish together into the air, setting down a second later 200 miles South.

“I was just over there.” Archie nods towards a patch of trees by the side of the road. “It was the beginning of Summer but it was fucking raining. Typical England.” He laughs sadly. “My car broke down about 2 miles from here, back that way. It just clapped out on the side of the road. Stupid thing had needed a repair for months but I put it off, just never had the time I guess. I was just standing in the rain, and I couldn’t see a thing because there was some fog, or something. And I had my hand stuck out, and I’m absolutely soaked and I’m thinking how it’s just my fucking luck to get stranded out here, probably won’t get home for hours. I don’t even hear it coming.”

“How fast?”

“60. I had no chance.”

She shivers, though she can’t feel the cold at all.

“I’m sorry, Archie.”

“It’s been a long time.” He says, though he knows that this doesn’t mean anything at all. He takes her hand. Thirty feet away a deer is startled by a flash of light, but doesn't bolt.

Day 2

It’s dark when Louis gets home from work, and the air is biting cold. When he gets inside the flat he is greeted by blissful warmth, and he peels off his gloves and drops his coat on the chair. His lips are almost blue, and his teeth are chattering. He toes off his shoes and goes into the bedroom. Harry looks up at him, and the sunshine in his eyes is enough to thaw Louis’ bones a little.

They don’t speak as they undress each other, Harry covering Louis in kisses, and rubbing the life back through him. When Harry lays Louis down he accepts it without question, Harry’s fingertips burning trails across his skin.

And they look at each other like they have all the time in the world, no idea of the storm that is brewing, no idea of the fragility of this and all things. In this moment they are invincible, eternal. Their bodies move against each other effortlessly. Harry’s fingers digging into Louis’ side just hard enough to hurt, enough to matter. Louis turns, face flushed and mouth slack. I love you I love you I love you. The words mean something different every time, something more. They are breathed and shouted and moaned. They are promises and vows, they are the stuff that ties the flesh together. Louis and Harry are just two boys in love, both so painfully alive at the other’s touch, both so tragically present.

And their fate isn’t written in stars or in the dips in their skin, but it’s decided.

Day 1

The last day is all in all fairly unremarkable. Louis wakes up at 6 with a fierce thirst and pads quietly out into the kitchen to grab a drink of water. The kittens are already awake, Eddie and Fox rolling around under the table together. Louis drains his glass and sets it on the side before lying down on the floor and whistling for the kittens. They bound over to him, nipping at his hand when he dangles his fingers for them to play with. He keeps this up until his back starts aching. He uses the table to pull himself up, making a mental note to make time for the gym in the Christmas break. He opens the door quietly when he returns to his bedroom, as Harry is still sleeping. He slips back under the covers, moving towards Harry instinctively, loving his boyfriend’s warmth. Harry moans softly, not quite awake, and pulls Louis closer so his head is resting on Harry’s chest. Louis shuts his eyes and lets Harry’s gentle heartbeat lull him back to sleep.

They wake properly when Harry’s alarm sounds at 9. He reaches over to shut it off but makes no move to get up. Louis snuggles his head closer into Harry’s chest.

“Don’t wanna move. Ever.” Louis says.

“Neither. Why don’t you just bunk off today?” Harry is stroking soft circles on Louis’ back.

“Can’t. Have a stupid staff meeting. And you’re not allowed to miss school, young man. But we have our dinner tonight.” He bites the material of Harry’s t-shirt playfully. Their dinner has been planned for weeks, not quite an anniversary meal, not quite a date. It was Louis' idea but Harry has something planned to make it one to remember.

“Ugh, fine.” He clears his throat, stomach bubbling at the mention of the evening. “We still have a couple of hours though.” His voice is playful and his hand slips lower on Louis’ back .

“I’m too hungry to even think about sex yet.”

“Well then I better make you breakfast in bed. And then we’re going to save some water and shower together.”

And they do. Harry turns the shower on, knowing by now that it takes a few minutes to warm up. Louis is at the sink, brushing his teeth, and Harry presses himself close behind him, ducking down to rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He looks at the two of them in the glass, smiling at how perfect they look. His hands go around Louis’ middle and he holds him tight.

“Love you.”

Louis spits out his toothpaste and turns his head to kiss Harry.

“Love you more.” He tells him when they break apart.

“No chance.”

They undress each other slowly as the room fills with steam and then Louis takes Harry’s hand and pulls him into the shower. His bathroom is his favourite room in the whole flat. After he started earning a good amount at Cole’s he installed a huge walk in shower, big enough for half a dozen people. He’s only ever used it with one. Harry stands under the water and lets the water soak his hair. He wipes his eyes and drapes his arms over Louis’ shoulders and leans down to kiss him, enjoying the warm wetness of their faces so close together.

They shampoo each other’s hair slowly and lazily, stealing kisses now and then before rinsing out the suds. Harry fiddles with the radio on the shower wall until music is playing. He sings along as he combs conditioner into his hair with his long fingers. Louis washes himself with shower gel as he watches Harry. He kisses him on the neck before climbing out of the shower and wrapping himself up in a huge fluffy towel. He sits on the edge of the bath and stares shamelessly at his naked boyfriend, currently looking like a rock god with his tattoos and dripping hair.

“Stop staring.”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t.” But he finishes drying off and tugs a clean pair of boxers on before using the towel to dry his hair slightly. He goes over to the bathroom mirror and wipes it with a dry flannel, clearing the fog just enough to allow him to shave. He admires his own tattoo in the mirror, the delicate details of the compass, the needle pointing eternally home. He hadn’t taken much convincing, and Harry had held his hand the whole time.

“Home is wherever I’m with you.” Harry sings from the shower, and Louis grins at the serendipity. There must be somebody up there looking down on us, he thinks.

Harry turns the shower off and exits, grabbing a towel for his hair and coming to stand naked behind Louis. He kisses his neck and traces his tongue up to his boyfriend’s ear, nipping at it gently. Louis’ skin goosebumps immediately.

“I know we just showered babe…” Harry’s voice is low and dangerous in his ear “but I would quite like to fuck you now.”

Louis doesn’t speak for a few moments whilst he finishes shaving. He wipes his face and turns and tilts his head back to lick his way into Harry’s mouth. Harry’s arms go around Louis as they kiss furiously, desperately and then Harry is pulling away, grabbing Louis’ hips and turning him around roughly. Louis plants his hands on the basin and moans as Harry’s presses his erection against his arse, rutting against him gently. Louis palms himself through his boxers.

“Bedroom.” Harry growls and spins Louis again, grabbing his hand and practically dragging him from the room. He pushes Louis down on the unmade bed and is on top of him in an instant, beautiful and naked and still dripping wet. They kiss and it feels like the first time, the same electricity passing between their lips as the first night in the Louis’ bedroom, so many months before. And Harry’s breath catches in his throat and for some reason his eyes are prickling. He pulls away, trembling suddenly.

“Haz, baby, what’s wrong?”

“I just-” He swallows and then buries his head in Louis’ neck “I just love you so fucking much.” His heart aches the same way it did in his nightmare from the month before and he doesn’t know why. He’s suddenly desperate, pressing his lips against Louis’ and moaning his name. His hands are on either side of his face and his fingers knot in Louis’ wet hair. He needs him and it’s all he understands. He climbs off Louis and moves onto the floor, pulling Louis slightly towards him. He spreads Louis’ legs and kneels between them, his hand on the base of Louis’ cock. He stares up into blue pleading eyes, not breaking eye contact for even a second as his tongue appears and licks up the underside of Louis’ dick, so gently that Louis hisses. He does this a few times, covering it in a thin sheen of spit. Then he sucks gently on the head, his lips plump and red around it. Louis is breathing quickly already. He sucks him impossibly slowly, keeping a firm pressure around it with his mouth. He doesn’t want to rush this. He wants it to be so good it’s almost painful.

Louis’ head pushes back into the duvet, his mouth open in a silent shout. He licks his lips and moans, wondering how it’s possible to feel this good. His dick feels like it’s the centre of all pleasure in the universe. Harry’s mouth is the most wonderful thing he’s ever felt, and his tongue on Louis’ cock is the only thing that he can think of. He mind is screaming for more and his hips twitch upwards. Harry Harry Harry Harry. But Harry keeps up his punishing rhythm until Louis is writhing and moaning and begging.

“Harry-” And it’s all he needs to say. Harry sucks harder, his mouth moving quickly up and down and Louis can see stars and feel himself building and it keeps building and his whole body trembles and shakes and then the fireworks begin and he’s coming and it’s the most amazing warmth and Harry sucks him gently until it’s over.

Louis doesn’t move as Harry wipes his mouth and crawls over to sip from the glass of water on the bedside table. His hands are shaking and he feels cold and hot all at once. He can’t open his eyes yet. He feels Harry at his side, snuggling into him, one leg thrown over his.

“I’ve loved you for so long.” Harry whispers in his ear. Louis opens his eyes, dazed, and turns his head to Harry. They kiss softly. Louis feels his breathing slowing down. In a few minutes he will push Harry onto his back and suck him until he screams for mercy. But until then he will just enjoy the warmth of his boyfriend’s body at his side and his breath on his neck.

-

In the end they both make it on time. Louis drops Harry off outside of the college and kisses him in the car until he absolutely has to go.

“Have a good day babe.”

“You too.” Harry calls as he slams the door and runs off inside. Louis sighs as he wonders if he’ll ever not miss Harry the moment he’s gone. He turns on the radio and sings along as he drives to work. He makes himself a large cup of tea when he gets to the staffroom, and reads the paper that somebody’s left on the table. There’s still another 10 minutes before the staff meeting begins, and with nobody else around he’s feeling bored and fidgety. He thinks about Harry’s mouth around him and shudders, feeling a renewed excitement for their dinner that night, with Harry’s insisting that they dress up and go to Louis' favourite restaurant. Zayn hasn’t shut up about how cute and whipped Louis is, which Louis thinks is a little rich coming from the boy who’s already planning Christmas with his boyfriend's parents.

He looks up when Niall comes into the room and sits down opposite him.

“Hey Lou, how’s tricks?”

“Same old, same old. How’s Pepper?” He looks at Niall wickedly. Niall blushes.

“Nothing happened! We were just…looking for something down the side of the bed and…and we just fell.”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain man. Same thing happens to me and Harry all the time.”

Niall scowls at him and opens a packet of crisps.

“I’m meeting Haz for lunch in a bit if you want to come?”

“I can’t, I’ve got a few bits to finish here. Send him my love though.”

“Will do. Draw the line at sending him a kiss though.”

“What about a cheeky hand job?”

“Behave yerself Louis.” He slaps him playfully on the back and walks out. Louis boils the kettle again, a contented smile on his face. Things were really pretty perfect at the moment. He and Harry were living together, Liam and Zayn were practically choosing retirement homes, Niall was smitten and getting the job he’d been wanting since he started at Cole’s. He whips out his phone to send a text.

I love you Harry Styles. Xx

The reply comes half an hour later, when Louis is sat at his desk finishing a slideshow for his method acting lecture next week.

Sorry just got on break. (: Any reason for that text? I love you too, Louis Tomlinson. xxx

No reason. Just full of love for my boyfriend all of a sudden.

Your boyfriend now can’t stop smiling. Niall’s just got here, text you later. Can’t wait for tonight. Yours forever, Harry x

Louis smiles and locks his phone. Forever will do just fine.

-

Louis is just doing his hair when Harry gets home from college, cheeks cold and red and hair windswept. 

“Sorry baby.” He says, kissing Louis on the cheek. “Things ran on at college, the head of child care wanted to see me, says she wants to put me on permanent placement in the new year.”

“That's amazing. Can’t wait to hear about it.”

“I’m just jumping in the shower. Wish I could have showered with you though.” He pouts dramatically and Louis laughs in spite of himself.

“Oh just hurry up and get cleaned up would you. We have reservations.”

“Yes sir.” He salutes and ducks out of the room. Louis hears the shower and the tinny sound of the radio, knowing that Harry will begin singing any minute. Right on cue-

“Maybe it’s intuition, but some things you just don’t question, like in your eyes I see my future in an instant and there it goes I think I’ve found my best friend I know that it might sound more than a little crazy but I believe I knew I loved you before I met you, I think I dreamed you into love, I knew I loved you before I met you, I have been waiting all my life.”

Savage bloody Garden. Harry is such a sucker for cheesy 90s ballads and he has an impeccable memory for lyrics. Louis shakes his head as Harry belts out the second verse in his lovely husky voice. He remembers the first time he heard Harry sing, when things were still so new and his heart still fluttered with nerves whenever they kissed. He had gone to find Harry over in the art block one lunchtime with a couple of sandwiches and bags of crisps for them to share. He had just opened the door to the classroom when he heard someone singing along to a song on the radio. He laughs at himself now but in that moment he just froze, and thought it was the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. Harry had blushed when he turned around and saw Louis there, but Louis had just walked over and kissed him. The crisps had ended up a little crushed between them, but they ate them anyway.

Louis checks out his hair in the mirror, messing with it slightly until he's happy. He stands up and stretches, his arms aching from the workout he did after work. Without thinking he walks out of his room and across the corridor to the bathroom, opening the door and stepping inside. Harry turns when he hears the door but carries on singing, giving Louis a cheeky grin through the half steamed glass.

Louis pads across the room and takes a seat on the step by the shower, giving him a perfect view inside of Harry naked without him getting wet at all.

“Hey baby.” He says, and Harry leans down to gently kiss him. His lips are deliciously hot and wet and Louis wonders if he’ll ever stop falling in love with Harry every time they touch. He hopes not.

Harry conditions his hair and Louis watches, neither feeling the need to speak. The radio host stops nattering on and the next song begins to play and it’s all that Harry can do not to drag Louis into the shower and kiss him right now because it’s just perfect and he’s perfect and everything will be perfect.

Looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come my baby. We mighta took the long way, we knew we’d get there someday.

One day Harry will tell Louis that this is his favourite song, and has been ever since it played the first time Louis said I love you. Well, the first time he said it when he knew that Harry was listening.

One day he’ll tell him a lot of things that really he should have said sooner, but he was scared and it never seemed the right time. One day he’ll learn that the right time is never soon enough, and you must tell the people you love the things they need to know before it’s too late.

Right now he’s not thinking about any of these things. He’s just thinking about getting the conditioner out of his hair and the way Louis looks when he’s singing along to this song. He’s also thinking about their date, and the hot ooze of panic filling up his chest, though he’s trying to ignore it because everything has to be perfect.

Tonight is the night where things can’t be any less than beautiful.

He turns the shower off and Louis hands him a towel and helps him dry off and then they kiss as the steam clears from the air.

“Love you.” Louis mumbles into his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Love you.” Harry whispers back.

-

Half an hour later and they’re climbing into Louis’ little green car. Harry is dressed in a dark grey suit and a bowtie and his hair is perfectly curled around his face. Louis too is wearing grey, but a lighter grey than Harry, and his white shirt is unbuttoned at the top to show a portion of his tanned throat.

“You look gorgeous.” Harry had said when Louis had come into the kitchen all dressed up.

“Thanks. You too. Always do.”

“Do not.”

“Do.”

They had kissed again then, slow and happily, until Louis had taken Harry’s hand and led him from their flat and down to the carpark.

The restaurant isn’t far, and they drive in contented silence. It’s a small Italian place, very quaint and family run. The owner, Mark, greets them from the door and seats them at the best table in the corner, overlooking the other tables. The lights are dim and a candle flickers between them as they take their seats. Mark brings them their menus and takes their orders for drinks. When he comes back he has a bottle of champagne.

“On the house- for my favourite customers!” His accent is thick and pleasing and they both smile gratefully at him. When he’s taken their food orders, poured them both a glass and set the bottle on ice he leaves them and Louis picks up his champagne flute.

“What shall we toast?”

“Um…what about love?”

“Too predictable. Try harder.”

“I wasn’t finished Lewis. I was going to say why don’t we make a toast to thing that made us both fall in love?”

“You were not going to say that.”

“Was too. You go first.”

“Alright, then I want to make a toast to…toast. French toast to be precise because you make it the best in the world and that’s why I love you.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“Did not.”

“Did to.”

“What’s your toast then?”

“My toast is to spiderman pyjamas. Because I knew then even then that I loved you.”

It’s cheesy as hell but all Louis can do is smile and chink their glasses together.

“You’re perfect, Styles.”  

“I know.”

Their food comes a while later and they chat whilst they eat, Louis even letting Harry to eat some pasta off his plate, something he would never allow the others to do.

They sit in the restaurant for hours, talking and laughing together. It’s a weeknight and so it stays fairly quiet, but they get to watch a few other couples behave equally sickening. They speculate about their relationships and Harry almost chokes on his dessert when Louis insists that the elderly couple by the window look like avid doggers.

Harry insists on paying for the entire meal, and even pulls Louis’ chair out for him when they leave.

“What’s your angle, Styles? You trying to get laid?”

“I’m just a natural gentleman, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re my natural gentleman.” Harry says, pulling him in for a kiss outside of the restaurant. A couple of women sharing a cigarette outside the pub next door aww very loudly and Harry can feel Louis grinning into his mouth.

“That doesn’t make any sense Haz.”

“You don’t make any sense. But I love you.”

“I love you too. Now get off and get in the car. I need to get you home right away before I start ravishing you up against the wall.”

Harry bites his lip and smiles, letting go of Louis’ hand as he walks around to get in the passenger seat.

Louis starts the car and pulls away.

The streets are relatively quiet, and the traffic lights are all green. The sky above them is a beautiful dark blue, illuminated by the stars which seem to dance as they drive. Harry stares out at the city, captured by its lights. He feels infinite, invincible, and there is suddenly no knot of nerves in his stomach. His blood bubbles with champagne and he can taste the rest of his life on his tongue.

Louis parks his car on the side of the road opposite his building. Harry makes a joke and he laughs and climbs out, hurrying round to Harry’s side of the car and opening his door. He bends down and tells Harry to jump on, and Harry does so eagerly. Despite their height difference, Louis manages to carry Harry with relative ease. He locks the car and sets off across the road, Harry bouncing slightly on his back. They’re across the road and almost at the door when Harry shouts that he’s forgotten his jacket. He jumps off Louis’ back and Louis sighs and gives him the keys, tells him to hurry.

He rubs his hands as he watches the younger boy dart back across the road, unlocking the car as he goes. He grabs it from the back and starts to walk slowly back across the road, fumbling in the pocket for something. Then he pauses halfway across, his face concerned, his hand still searching in the pocket.

And that’s when Louis hears it, the car, and he turns around and it’s there, suddenly, and it seems like it came out of nowhere and Harry’s still got his hand in the pocket and his feet are still rooted to the floor, and Louis’ mouth opens to scream but he makes no sound. And then his feet are moving and he’s running and suddenly he’s there and Harry’s eyes are wide and time is going so slow and all he can feel is the screaming of his heart in his chest.

And then he pushes Harry clear and he has no time to smile in relief because the car hits him at 43 miles per hour.

The air is knocked out of him and he feels his body lift from the ground, rolling over the car and smacking down on the ground below. There is a dull ringing in his ears and his mouth tastes like metal. Everything hurts. He hears a scream and feels someone at his side, holding him close as he drifts off into blackness.

He comes to a while later. He has no way of knowing how long he’s been swimming through black. He opens his eyes and there he is, his reason for everything.

“Baby, oh god baby stay with me, okay? Stay with me. The ambulance is on its way, it’s coming. Stay with me.”

Louis looks up at Harry and it feels like he’s seeing him for the first time.

I loved you the minute we met he wants to say. You are the most wonderful thing that’s ever been mine. But he can’t say that. His body tells him that there is no time, his blood is getting colder and even with Harry’s arms tight around him he is shaking.

“No, no, no.” Harry’s voice screams from somewhere through white fog. He hears his name again and again, but it’s far away now. I wish I could have done everything on earth with you.

Harry is rocking him, screaming and crying and Louis imagines he can hear his boyfriend’s heartbeat thudding through his chest and into his ribcage. His own heart is slowly stopping, the water rising around him and the fog rolling in. Just one more minute. He struggles to the surface and Harry’s face appears clear and sharp. Louis inhales sharply, so desperate to hold on. He can hear the sirens screaming, somewhere in another world.

“Harry I- I-“ He falters and stops. His wills his eyes to stay open but his vision is blackening at the edges. The fire is gone, the embers white and fading. He knows it’s time. The pain dulls and drifts away, useless now.

Somewhere in the distance he imagines he hears a record scratch, and a song begins to play.

Harry is crying, he feels the hot tears on his face. He wonders where his body is, why he can’t feel it anymore.

Take my hand

“Wake up Louis, please, please, wake up-”

Take my whole life too

“Baby please, please. Don’t go, don’t go”

For I can’t help

“He’s not breathing, he’s not- no, no, no”

Falling in love

 “Come back Louis, don’t you dare. I can’t- I can’t-”

With you.

Louis’ eyes flicker open for a second and he sees the universe in Harry’s eyes. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips, then dies. His breath catches, and his heart stops. 

Chapter Text

CH29:The One Where It’s A Wonderful Life

Heaven, Louis notes, is a lot like Old Trafford. Well maybe exactly like. He comes to in the middle of the pitch, his head clear and body feeling better than he can ever remember it feeling. The grass is wonderfully soft and long and afternoon sunlight filters down and bathes his body in warmth. He stands up cautiously and stretches, rubs his eyes and looks around. The stands are empty, there is nobody here but him. He feels as though he’s slept for an eternity. Looking down he sees that he’s still dressed for his date with Harry, but his black shirt and grey trousers are spotless, bearing no hint of blood being spilled. He cautiously lifts his shirt at one side and sees no evidence of injury.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“You won’t find anything there, mate.”

Louis jumps as a voice sounds quietly behind him. He turns to see a tall man in a white shirt and loose fitting grey linin trousers. His skin is tanned and as he smiles Louis notices a row of beautiful white teeth. There is nothing about the man that is anything less than perfect.

“Sorry to startle you, just didn’t expect you here so early.”

“Who…who are you?”

“I…uh…well I suppose I work here. ”

“And where is…where is here?” Louis is surprised by the clarity of his own voice, smooth and harmonious as a bell.

“All in good time lad, all in good time. So, you remember what happened?”

“Yeah I was…waiting for Harry.” Louis pauses. This had just happened and yet he’s already fumbling for the details. He concentrates. “He’d left his jacket, yeah that was it. He was just getting his jacket from the car and I was waiting on the other side of the road, shouting at him to hurry up, and so he did, and hurried up, but he didn’t look.” Louis winces before carrying on. “He didn’t look. He just stepped out and I saw the car come round the corner, too fast, but it seemed slow. So I ran to him and pushed him back and…and…”

“And you died. Pegged out. Snuffed it. Kicked the bucket.” The man’s voice remains soft and warm.

Louis feels suddenly queasy.

“Yeah I guess I did.”

“Ah well, chin up, could be worse. You could be-” The man tips his head down and points theatrically to the ground “-down there.”

“You mean there is a ‘down there’?” Louis asks incredulously.

“Couldn’t say mate couldn’t say.” The man says, nodding vigorously.

“So you don’t get there for, you know, being gay?”

It’s the man’s turn to look incredulous.

“Huh? Goodness no, where’d you get a crazy idea like that from.”

“Just a rumour that’s going around.”

“You humans, you don’t half get it wrong sometimes.”

“Uh, ‘you humans’?” Louis asks. “Are you not…?”

“I’m an angel, thanks very much.” Says the man- no, the angel- with a look of mild indignation on his face. “No offense, but you lot are sort of…how can I put this...ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous how?”

“Well you’re born onto a spinning planet full of the most amazing creatures, oceans that go down for miles, incredible mountains, jungles, the lot. And what do you do? You eat all the animals, burn down the forests and make machines to murder each other. All in your tiny lifespans. It isn’t half annoying.”

“Err, sorry for that.”

“Not your fault. You only had-” He consults the clipboard in his hand- had he always been holding that? “-25 years. And you spent most of that being a pretty great guy.”

Louis smiles to himself. It’s not every day an angel calls you a great guy. It’s also not every day you killed by a speeding car, but always best to keep positive.

“So, shall we have a little look?”

Louis frowns and looks up. His angel is now wearing a suit, his white shirt unbutton a little at the top. “A little look at what?”

The angel opens his arms and smiles.                                     

“Your life, of course.” And just like that Old Trafford is gone, consumed in a ball of light and warmth, and Louis is suddenly standing in his grandma’s old living room. He takes in his surroundings, notes the inky sky through the curtains and deduces that it’s night time. The room itself is lit dimly by the glow of the fairy lights strung around the tree in the corner. Tinsel has been draped haphazardly across the room.

“December, 1995, your fourth Christmas, though you were only a wee newborn for the first. Could practically hold you in my hand.” The angel looks fondly down at Louis, who tries not to be too surprised by this comment. He looks to the clock in the corner: 3:00am.

“What are we doing here, isn’t everyone asleep?”

The angel holds up his finger, indicating that Louis should be silent. He listens intently until he hears soft footsteps on the stairs.

“Almost everyone.”

A few moments later and the door creaks open and a tiny person creeps in. Louis freezes. It’s him.

“Can he- can I- is he-”

“He can’t see or hear us. Unless you recall walking in on two strange men in the early hours of Christmas?”

Louis shakes his head.

Little Louis is stepping slowly and carefully across the carpeted floor, his eyes fixed hungrily on the small pile of presents under the tree. He reaches the fireplace and adult Louis winces, knowing what’s coming. He steps down and the floor creaks loudly, surely betraying him to his light-sleeping mother upstairs.

“Why don’t I remember this?” Louis is whispering, though he knows he won’t be heard.

The angel shrugs.

“Too young, I guess. So many things happen in life, can’t keep a hold of them all.”

Footsteps on the stairs again, heavier this time. Little Louis seeks cover under the coffee table.

The lights flicker on and Louis is confronted by the sight of his mum. He gasps at how beautiful she looks, even wrapped up in a blanket with her hair matted on one side. He is overwhelmed by a desire to go to her, curl up on her lap and be reassured.

“What the- Louis I can see your slippers under there.” Little Louis sticks his head out, a look of mild terror on his face.

“Hi.” He whispers. His mum’s face softens.

“Lou-Bear, come here.” She sits on the sofa and pats her lap gently. He wriggles out from under the sofa and scampers over to her. She stops him in front of her, retying the bow on his dressing gown before scooping him up.

“You know you’re not meant to come down until morning.”

“But the presents..”

“But the presents will still be here in a few hours.” He sniffs once and nods. “Do you want to sleep in mummy’s bed tonight?” He nods again.

“Come on then poppet.” She stands, Little Louis still in her arms, and quietly pads from the room, turning the light off as she goes.

“We should be going too, places to be and all that.” And the angel puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder and they’re off. The sensation is a little more uncomfortable this time and Louis’ ears are still popping when they reappear. He feels hot sunshine on his face and a cool breeze. He opens his eyes and finds that he is standing on a beach.

“France. I remember this holiday.”

“2000. You were eight. Best holiday of your life.”

“It was.” Louis breathes, looking out at the chalky blue ocean before turning his head to the angel with an expectant look.

The angel checks his watch.

“You should be along any second now- ah, here we go.” He takes a sharp step to his left to let and two boys in colourful swimming shorts streak past and rush towards the waves.

“I remember now. I met a boy, but mum could never remember his name.” He looks out to see his younger self grabbing the hand of a smaller boy and swinging it.

“It should be here somewhere…one sec.” The angel flips back a few pages on his clipboard. “Hang on, can’t be…must be a mistake. Well I never.”

“What?”

“That little boy that you’re dunking under the water there-” He nods out to sea “-is none other than Harry Edward Styles.”

Louis’ insides freeze.

“Looks like you’ve been playing this game of fates with him longer than any of us knew. Ooh, mate, you aren’t looking too good, here sit down.” He holds Louis’ arm and helps him to sit down on the sand. The dizzy feeling stays.

“Not expecting that one, I take it.”

“No I- I can’t believe it. All that time thinking we’d never- and- and all along we were. And he’ll never know.” His voice cracks and his vision blurs.

“Hey, hey don’t cry. Not yet anyway, jeez, this was meant to be a good memory.”

“It is, I just…I just can’t believe I loved him even then. Look at us-” He nods out to the two beaming boys splashing in the gorgeous water- “We have no idea about any of it. No idea that one day we’ll meet and fall in love and hurt each other so much. I just can’t believe that that’s the boy that breaks my heart and mends it. It’s just so much to take in.” He lets out another sob and buries his head in his hands. A dull pain is starting in his chest, right at the point of impact.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s alright.” The angel puts his arm around Louis and squeezes his shoulder gently.

“Hey look, your first fight. Don’t want to miss this.” Louis looks up to see Harry storming away from his younger self, arms crossed and a furious expression on his face. Younger Louis stands in the water, swaying uncertainly before running after Harry, standing in front of him and blocking his path. Louis can’t hear what he’s saying from the beach but he can see the anguish in his eyes. A few tense minutes pass and then Harry throws his arms around his friend.

“Even then he couldn’t stay angry with you.” The angel stands, reaching his hand down to Louis. “I’m afraid it’s time to go.”

“Not yet, please, five more minutes.”

“No can do. We’re on a schedule.” Louis sighs and grabs the angel’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled up. He can see Harry whispering in his younger self’s ear.

“He’s telling you that you’re his best friend, but what he wants to say is that he loves you.” Louis’ heart aches as he tries to memorise the scene. Then they’re gone, flashing through time and space again.

The angel takes him everywhere; his first day of big school, his first fight, a visit to the zoo with his grandpa.

He sees himself sitting nervously on the first day of college orientation, 16 years old and terrified. He sees Zayn with his arm of bracelets and black leather jacket. He sees him glance around the room before spotting Louis and coming over. He sees their first party together, the way Zayn cheered when Louis managed to down his drink the fastest at the table.

He watches himself at his first gay club, nervous because he doesn’t know what to expect, and then falling asleep on Zayn’s shoulder in the cab home. Then there’s the first kiss with his first boyfriend Jin-Ho, a clumsy drunken snog outside of a club in Manchester. It had started snowing and Louis had thrown up in a bin after, too drunk to feel embarrassed.

Louis had forgotten Jin-Ho, but now he is suddenly watching their break up, Louis standing in tears in his mum’s living room after a fight and Jin-ho storming out. He had known it wasn’t love, but it still hurt to be alone. How small that seemed now, how unimportant every failed relationship seemed in the wake of Harry Styles.

His angel takes him to his first day at Cole’s with Zayn, their sadness at being separated for classes. He sits in the stands and watches the rehearsal for his first performance as Danny in Grease, he sees Patrick in the front row, whistling and cheering, eyes bright with tears. And then there’s opening night. He had cried as they had taken their first bows, aching for something more than applause, searching for an old face in the crowd that he knew he wouldn’t find. The crowd shrieked and hammered the floor with their feet, desperate for more.

And then he’s older again, the trackies and toms replaced by shiny black shoes, shirts and braces. He’s teaching in one memory, and then laughing in Simon’s, Niall on one side, Zayn on the other, both bleary-eyed and drunk, beaming from ear to ear as Louis tells them a story. Louis is suddenly hit by how much he loves them, like truly, madly deeply loves them, and he wishes he’d thought to tell them. He hopes they know.

And then time shifts again and he watches himself walking in through the pub door, blue denim jacket pulled tightly around him. He looks tired and drained. He clutches a stack of papers in his hands. He knows what’s coming.

“I don’t think I can-” He starts to say but it’s too late. They’re standing in the corridor by the exit and he knows that any minute now he and Harry will meet for the first time. Somewhere on the other side of the door Louis Tomlinson is hanging up the phone and picking up his drink. Harry Styles is in the bar, about to be covered in booze. The buzz and chatter of the pub on the other side of the door seems deafening, the walls around Louis are closing in. The angel snaps his fingers and everything stops. The silence is blissful. The angel speaks.

“What if you and Harry had never met?”

“What?” Louis’ head snaps around the look at the angel, a horrible knot forming in his gut.

“What if you’d never met. What if you’d never walked through that door. What if he’d gone left instead of right. What if he’d never known about the job, gone back to Scotland then and faced his demons. What if you and Harry Styles had never known each other?”

“He’d be happier.” Louis swallows, wills his heart to stop beating so hard. “He wouldn’t have to watch me die…he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t have to live with himself, blaming himself for this. For me being gone.” He pauses, the dull pain in his stomach growing stronger, “Is that why we’re here? Are you asking me if…if I want to change this?”

The angel looks down sadly at Louis. “You would live. You’d both live.”

“But we would never have met, and never would.” And Louis’ heart begins to pull apart in his chest.

“We have a stop to make, and then you’ll choose. Someone’s been waiting a long time for you.” He takes Louis’ hand, which is limp and clammy at his side, and they blink out of existence yet again.

When he reappears again Louis’ is alone, and has to shield his eyes against the brightness of his surroundings. He blinks a few times. He’s standing in a vast train station, strangely familiar though he can’t for the life of him remember why.

“Alright, mischief-maker.” He spins around, barely daring to believe it.

“Patrick.”

The old man smiles at him warmly, opening his arms. Louis runs to him then, tears streaming. They hold each other for a few moments, Louis crying like a little boy, Patrick stroking his hair and comforting him.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” When Louis has recovered himself he pulls away, wipes his nose on his sleeve. Patrick takes his arm and leads him over to a bench. There is no stiffness in the man’s movements, no wincing pain as he sits down. He is wearing a soft white shirt and black trousers. His braces are brown to match his thick boots. He smells of sawdust and sunshine. Louis sits close beside him.

“I told you to keep out of trouble, Tomlinson. What happened?” Patrick’s voice is warm. Honey and light.

“I fell in love.” He says simply, still marvelling at Patrick’s presence. He can make out every line on the man’s face, every dot and wrinkle. Patrick nods with understanding.

“Well you’re forgiven then.”

“Why am I here, Pat? What is this place?”

Patrick grins wickedly.

“It’s a train station, Louis.”

Louis laughs through his tears as Patrick pulls him into a tight hug. He pulls away when he hears a whistle blow and the roar of an approaching train. He turns back, but Patrick is already standing, facing away from Louis. Louis gets to his feet, reaches for him, faltering when the figure turns and instead of white hair there is brown, and instead of creases there is smooth skin.

He recognises him by the glint in his eye. Patrick smiles as the train slows to a stop and the door opens. Louis follows his gaze and sees a beautiful woman leaning against the open doors. She waves her hand to Louis. Patrick turns and salutes him before running to her and gathering her into his arms. Louis takes a step towards the carriage but Jackie shakes her head, smiling warmly. “Not yet.” She says, her voice soft. As they board the train they look back.

“Be brave Louis!” Patrick calls over the din of the engine. “And don’t look back!” The door close and the train rushes away and Louis heart is rushing. He runs alongside the train, desperate for Patrick’s voice again. But it is too quick for him, and he is alone once more.

His angel lays a gentle hand on Louis’ shoulder then, and the station blinks away.

They’re on the road outside of Harry and Niall’s apartment. They stand in silence for a few seconds. Louis’ stomach and ribs are beginning to ache and he rubs his hands together against the cold.

“Here we go…” His angel says, and nods his head to an approaching car. Louis watches silently as he, the other him, parks his car and climbs out, laughing at something Harry was saying.

“He just told me I have 5 seconds to open the door for him or he won’t put out”, but there is no mirth in Louis’ voice now. The other Louis, the alive Louis, opens the door and helps Harry out. Louis bends down slightly and tells Harry to hop on. Harry’s hair is shining beautifully in the dark, his green eyes glinting. They are at the door when Harry realises he has forgotten his jacket. Louis rolls his eyes and leans down slightly to let him off his back, handing him the keys and telling him to hurry. He starts to walk back towards, unlocking it from a distance. He opens the back door and grabs his jacket. He starts to walk back across the road. Louis knows what’s coming and starts to turn away but the angel holds him steady.

“I want to show you what this night would have been if you had lived.”

Harry is at the middle of the road. The road is clear. He keeps walking and makes it to the other side. He hands Louis the jacket and tells him to find the keys whilst he bends to his shoe laces.

“You’re so lazy, Styles.” Louis turns and digs in the pocket, searching for the familiar edges of Harry’s keys. He finds something, pulls it out. A green velvet box. His mouth drops open and he turns.

Harry is on one knee.

“You said you didn’t want to see it coming.”

Harry reaches up and takes the box from him, opening it. There is a beautiful silver ring inside.

“Marry me.”

Louis says nothing. His hands are trembling over his mouth.

“Well bloody say something.” There is fear in Harry’s voice.

“Say yes, you idiot, just hurry up and say yes.” Other Louis’ voice is low and pained.

“Yes!” Louis screams. “Yes! Of course!”

Harry jumps up and rushes towards him, grabbing him tightly and lifting him up to kiss him. Other Louis’ closes his eyes.

“Enough, enough.”

The angel reaches out for his hand and when Louis opens his eyes they are back in the pub.

“In approximately 3 minutes a drink will spill on Harry. You will hang up the phone and come in through that door. You’ll meet for the first time, and your lives will begin. Everything will happen just as it did before, you’ll meet again, become friends, fall in love, break apart, fall back together again. And that night will come, and your heart will stop for him and he’ll hold you as you go.” The angel pauses, his face solemn. “But you can choose another life. There’s a deadbolt there, on the door. You can slide it now and you and Harry will never meet. He’ll turn, see the toilets behind him. You’ll walk round the side to your car and drive home. You can go to sleep and you will wake up six months from now with no memory of this, no memory of this boy, and a new life.”

Louis heart hammers painfully, and his arms no longer feel like they’re part of his body. He has to take a few breaths before he speaks, and when he does the sorrow aches from every word.

“You know there was a time when I thought love was just some bullshit people pretended to feel to make the night’s less lonely. But then I met Harry and I realised that love was more than a fucking valentine’s card, more than just wanting to fuck someone.” He swallows, his throat burning with the effort of keeping his tears in check. “Love is wanting to be better, love is wanting someone else to be happy even when you aren’t. Harry could have died that night. It would have been him in my arms. But you know what? I wouldn’t change it. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. You hurt so they won’t. And I wouldn’t take back a second, not a fucking second, of knowing him because he was the love of my life. A year with him is worth one hundred not even knowing he exists. So fuck your offer and fuck you, I won’t change a thing.”

There is a tense silence between them. A huge smile appears on the angel’s face.

“And that, Louis Tomlinson, is why my faith in humanity remains intact.” And Louis has no time to ponder the meaning of this before the doors on either side of them open simultaneously and two people collide.

“Shit. Shit I’m so sorry.”

“Honestly my fault, I’m not meant to be back here, I was looking for the loos actually. Guessing they’re back the other way.”

The angel puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder and leans in close to whisper.

“And the rest is history.” The white light takes them.

Louis lands heavily on grass. They are back at Old Trafford, but the sunshine is gone and the blue sky has been replaced by black. Cold rain batters Louis and a fierce wind is blowing. He tries to get up, but an agonising pain in his stomach sends him back down immediately.

“What’s happening?” He cries out, his eyes searching through the rain for the angel. He grabs at his stomach as another sharp pain rips through him. He looks at his hands. Dark red. He cries out in pain. “Help me, please.”

He feels a warm body beside him and tries to turn his head to see.

“Try not to move mate, it’ll only make it worse.” The angel’s soothing voice is warm in his ear.

“What’s happening?” Louis asks again between sharp breaths. “I thought this was meant to be heaven?”

“Heaven? Goodness no. This is just where the good ones go to wait.”

“Wait for what?” He manages through gritted teeth.

“Electricity.”

Before Louis has a chance to ask the angel what he means he is thrown flat on his back as 300 volts course through him. The sky above him is streaked with lightning.

He hears the angel shriek with laughter next to him.

“Is this real? Is any of this real?” Louis has to bite his lip against waves of pain, each stronger than the last.

“What does it matter! Morphine, angels, heaven and hell! What does any of it matter!” He lets out another peal of laughter. “I bloody love this bit! Hold onto your hat it’s coming again!”

Louis braces himself as another shock rips through him.

“What’s happening to me?” He screams. The angel kneels beside him and leans over him, water from his long hair dripping down onto Louis’ already soaked face.

“What’s happening? You’re surviving! That’s what you’re doing you little beauty. One more to go, kid, just one more!”

“One more and then what?”

“And then you’ll be in a whole world of pain. It’s coming!” The angel jumps up and Louis can see him dancing and spinning in the rain. Louis feels like his body is coming to pieces, the white hot agony in his chest stronger than ever. The rain is beating against his whole body now and the sky is thundering, lightening tearing it to pieces. He hears the angel shout his name, but his voice is faint, far away.

“Hey Louis! Louis! Good luck!” And the shock comes again and Louis’ world goes black.

-

“Okay, we have a rhythm. Keep him steady, he’s still losing blood.”

Louis groans and tries to open his eyes. He is in a vehicle, and there are strange voices above him. The pain in his stomach is like nothing he has ever felt before. What’s going on? He tries to remember, but gets broken flashes of memory. It’s like trying to remember a dream that’s slipping away, like holding onto water. There was a car, it was headed going too fast, coming towards him. Harry was there, crying, begging-

 “Harry…” He manages, before passing out cold. 

His heart is beating.

Chapter Text

CH30:The One Where Home Is Wherever They're Together

Fate is idling over a crossword when the door flies open and two angels storm in. She looks up calmly and inspects them. The blonde, a very feisty looking female, is marching ahead with fury in her eyes. There is a gorgeously tanned angel behind, soaked through with rain and bearing his white teeth in an apologetic grin. Fate stretches and sits up on the velvet coach she had been lounging on.

“May I help you, little angels?” Her voice sounds like shards of glass.

“I- yes- yes you- we came to-” Clara begins angrily, but the words escape her.

Fate stands, crossword in hand, throwing her long red hair over her shoulder and licking her red lips with a sharp tongue.

“Why don’t we sit?” She sweeps her arm gracefully, gesturing to a mahogany table in the corner. She walks over and takes a seat. Clara and Archie exchange a quick look before following her, sitting opposite. Fate chews daintily at the end of her pen, razor sharp teeth scraping against silver. She fills in a few letters and looks up.

“You’re angry about the Tomlinson boy, I take it.”

Clara is breathing quickly, hands shaking under the table.

“Why? Why all of this?” She demands.

Fate puts down her pen and thinks for a second, drumming the table with her hand.

“Because it’s written.” She says infuriatingly calmly. With a flourish of her hand the crossword on the table is replaced with a sprawling black map, lit up by blinking white dots and lines as thin as threads. Clara and Archie stare at the map in stunned silence. Archie takes Clara’s hand under the table, heart hammering. She was surely a fool for challenging fate, and he was a fool for loving her enough to follow her into the Lion's den.

 “Well then what’s the point?” Clara says, voice quieter but still insistent. “What’s the point of anything if everything’s already decided? Already written.”

Fate sweeps a hand over the table and the map simply ceases to exist. In its place is a newspaper. She reaches behind her and gathers up her endless flaming hair, piling it effortlessly on top of her head and securing it with a long metal pin.

She turns the paper towards them.

“The New York Times. First headline after Titanic sunk. One thousand two hundred and fifty souls went under that night. It was written, a point on a map. Unchangeable. Nothing on Fate’s green earth than any angel could do to stop it. But the angels still went. They went in their thousands, out into the cold Atlantic night. They mingled with the passengers, listened to the band, watched the stars and waited. And when the time came and the water filled the ship, deck by deck, they couldn’t change it, couldn’t stop it. But they were there, and do you know why?”

“Why?” Archie says quietly.

“Because that’s all they could do. That’s why there are angels at all. Not to fly in and save the day, but to take the darkest night and make it a little brighter. They took the pain away, they took the ice and made it fire. They reached out their hands and welcomed the souls out of the cold.” She pauses and shakes her head slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You have no idea of your power, either of you. You’re still so…human.”

They sit in stunned silence. Fate’s eyes pass over the paper sadly before she sweeps it away. In its place is a martini glass, full to the brim. An olive sits in the centre. She takes a sip and smiles broadly, red eyes flashing.

“What’s an angel’s opposite?” She challenges, swirling the liquid in the glass.

“That’s easy, a dem-”

“Not so.” She cuts across Archie. “Not so. An angels opposite isn’t a demon, or even the devil himself. It’s pain.” She snaps her fingers the room is plunged into darkness, impossible white shadows dancing around them. She laughs, clicks again and the light rushes back. Clara suspects that she is trying to disarm and intimidate them. It is working exceedingly well.

“Pain is an undefeatable force. It floats around like atoms through the cosmos. It doesn’t help that yours is the only planet for light years around that has any use for it. Open space is wonderfully calm in comparison.” She laughs a little and runs her finger around the rim of her glass. The noise is sharp and Clara flinches. “And that’s who you are, you angels. You are antidotes to pain, you are the Universe simply balancing itself out. You are what happens when a life is interrupted, when a thread snaps"-she clicks her fingers-“right in the middle.”

She puts down her glass and replaces it with her crossword. She picks up her pen and muses.

“Four across, who’s the lead singer of Metallica?”

“James Hetfield” Archie answers, and Clara glares at him.

“Does he survive?” Clara presses.

“Who? James Hetfield? I hope so, I’ve got tickets for March.”

“Louis. Does Louis Tomlinson live?”

Fate rolls her eyes and pulls a magic 8-ball out of the air. She shakes it a few times.

“It is decidedly so.” She reads, then grins wickedly and rolls it towards them. “These things are hours of fun.”

She pulls the pin out of her bun and her hair cascades around her, hissing and flickering like flames. She stands and stretches, crossing the room gracefully and laying herself back out on the velvet coach. The red silk of her dress glides up a little, revealing the porcelain skin of her feet.

“It made me laugh, what you said about me all those months ago, Clara. About me getting tangled. How wonderful if that were true, how divine to be so flawed. I envy angels, you know. I envy how human you get to be. How peaceful, that might be.” She shuts her eyes tight and doesn’t speak again. Her chest doesn’t rise and fall, and her body is as still as a statue.

Clara picks up the magic 8-ball and they leave. As Archie takes Clara’s hand in his she lets herself smile, feeling the most human she has in years.

-

Liam shakes the antique looking coffee machine a few times before admitting defeat. He hurries back up the stairs to Zayn, presenting him with the grey-looking liquid.

“Sorry mate, best I could do. I’ll run out to Costa when Niall and Pepper get back, alright?”

Zayn can only nod, holding the cup in a shaky hand. His lib wobbles and the tears come again.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry baby.” Liam takes the cup back, sets it on a low table in the waiting room and gathers his boyfriend up in a tight hug. “It’s alright. It’s alright.”

Zayn buries his face in Liam’s neck and sobs. Liam rubs his back and holds him tight. They stay like this until they hear the door open and Niall’s voice, strained and tense.

“He’s out of surgery.” Zayn’s head snaps round, his face white. Niall and Pepper are standing in the doorway, hands clasped.

“And?” Zayn grips Liam’s hand tightly.

“He’s alive.” Liam and Zayn both exhale their relief. “But it’s still touch and go. He lost a lot of blood. They thought they’d lost him in the ambulance, his heart stopped- everything- and for a few minutes he was…” He can’t finish the sentence.

“How’s Harry?” Liam asks, his arms still around Zayn.

“Still hysterical, but his mum’s on her way. Louis' too. And the doctor’s say he can go in to see him soon, so…that’s good I guess.” Pepper answers, leading Niall towards them. He doesn’t sit down.

“I just still can’t believe this is happening.” Zayn sinks into a chair.

“Me neither mate, me neither.”

“Here, Niall, Pepper, you two sit down for a bit you both look shattered. I’m gunna run and get us some decent coffee-” Niall starts to protest but he holds up a hand, “We’ll need it to stay awake tonight.” He turns to Zayn, “I’ll be right back okay. I’ll be right back.” He kisses him tenderly and stands, squeezing Niall’s shoulder as he leaves. Niall and Pepper take a seat by Zayn.

“He’ll be okay, Zayn. It’s Louis. He’s not about to give up on us.”

“I just…I love him, so much. He’s been my best friend for so long and-” His voice cracks and the tears come again, “he looked so small lying there, and I just…I can’t do this without him.” He dissolves into sobs and can no longer talk. Niall rocks him as he cries, his own heart breaking quietly, and a prayer running through his head on repeat.

Please God, please don’t let him go. Please God, don’t let Louis die.

-

Two floors up and Harry Styles is in hell.

From the moment that Louis stopped breathing in his arms in the road to the moment the paramedics revived him in the ambulance Harry’s heart was tearing itself to pieces in his chest. When Louis’ choked out Harry’s name he thought he would die from longing. They’d rushed him straight into surgery and Harry was practically tearing out his hair. He wouldn’t speak to anyone. His eyes were wide and bloodshot and he paced up and down in the nurses office. They’d tried putting him in the waiting room but his mumbled prayers were unnerving the others in there. Niall and Pepper had come in, but Harry wouldn’t look at them. He was still there when the doctor knocked on the door and told them that Louis was alive, but in a critical condition. Harry had collapsed in a sobbing mess on the floor.

“He’s alive Harry, he’s alive. He’s fighting, Harry.” Pepper had spoken quietly but firmly in his ear. Then he had let Niall lead him to the sofa in the staff room and one of the nurses came in to soothe him whilst they went to tell the others.

They came back a short while later with Zayn, who approached Harry cautiously. Harry’s eyes were ringed with red and purple and his chin wobbled as the tears came again. Zayn rushed forward and grabbed him in a tight bear hug.

“Hey, hey. No more crying. Our boys alive, alright, and if he’s being strong then we need to do the same.”

Harry nodded and sniffed. The tears were still streaming but he managed to give Zayn a slight smile as they sat back down. The minutes dragged and Harry’s mind was filled with terror. He thought about his and Louis’ evening. How perfect everything had been, how Louis’ eyes had shone like stars at everything that Harry said, how they’d kissed before getting in the car, how Louis had said forever and Harry knew that he had meant it.

If only he hadn’t forgotten the jacket.

How could I forget the jacket?

The ring was in the jacket. The sole reason for everything they had done that night, where everything was leading. He stands up abruptly and Zayn looks at him worriedly.

“Harry?”

“Where’s the jacket? Where’s the fucking jacket?”

“What jacket Haz? What are you talking about?”

“My jacket. It was round him when the paramedics came. I need my fucking jacket.” He was raising his voice now and Pepper was at his side, hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay Harry, we’ll find it, we’ll find it alright?”

“I need it. I need the jacket. I need-” He’s suddenly sobbing, choking on words. Pepper pulls him into a hug, cradling him even though Harry’s so much taller than she is. He was suddenly so full of wanting, needing. He didn’t care about the jacket, didn’t care about anything on this earth anymore except Louis opening his eyes and living.

“It’s okay Harry, we’ll find your jacket.”

“I need it now.” He insists, his fists clenched together and his voice wobbly.

“Harry it’s just a jacket.” Niall exclaims. Exasperated Harry kicks the wall of the waiting room.

“It’s not just a jacket it’s-” he paused, his face screwed up “There’s an engagement ring in the pocket. I was going to propose to Louis tonight.”

Before anyone can answer the door flies open and Harry’s mum is rushing towards him.

“Darling.” And it’s all she needs to say as Harry crumbles in front of her and she guides him to a seat. He puts his head on her shoulder and she strokes his hair and soothes him.

They all sit in silence, Harry leaning against his mum, Zayn with his head on Liam’s shoulder, one hand in Liam’s, one in Niall’s. Pepper is on Anne’s other side, holding her hand and looking blankly at the wall opposite.

He’ll be alright, he’ll be alright, he’ll be alright. She repeats the mantra again and again, willing it to be true.

Twenty minutes pass, then forty, then an hour and then finally the door opens again and a nurse comes in. They all jump to their feet.

“Harry? Louis’ awake now and he’s asking for you.” Harry’s heart lifts. Louis’ awake. He’s talking. He’s living. He’s awake. Harry’s mum squeezes his hand and nods at him reassuringly.

“Tell him we’re all here, and we love him.”

Harry nods quickly and rushes to follow the nurse out of the room. They walk down what seems an endless corridor before finally the nurse stops and opens the door to a room at the end of the ward. Harry takes a deep breath and enters. He shouldn’t have bothered because the minute he sees Louis’ the air is knocked out of him. He is propped up in bed with machines on either side of him and tubes coming from his nose and hand. His face is bruised badly on one side and there is a deep cut on his cheek. The blankets are pulled up around his chest so Harry can’t see any more of the damage. Harry’s jacket is lying over the end of the bed but he hardly registers it.

The nurse has pulled up a chair for Harry at the edge of the bed and is now checking the machine on the far side of the bed. But Harry can’t move. He’s frozen in the doorway, his heart pounding and aching in his chest and his world coming to pieces around him. And then Louis speaks and the Universe falls back together.

“Haz.” And Harry is by his side in an instant.

“Hi baby.” And he’s crying and laughing and looking at Louis like he might vanish any second. Louis smiles and Harry can see the effort in his eyes.

“How…how do I look?” He manages to choke out.

“Gorgeous baby. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” And he’s not lying. Because Louis is in front of him, less than a foot away, breathing, living, existing, and if that isn’t the best thing on the planet then Harry doesn’t know what is. He presses a gentle kiss on Louis’ forehead before sitting down in the chair and gingerly picking up Louis’ hand in his own. He’s never realised quite how much smaller Louis’ hands are. The door clicks as the nurse leaves.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a car.” Louis chuckles softly, his breathing strained.

“Don’t Louis, oh god, don’t you dare.” And Harry drops his head to rest on the mattress next to Louis’ arm. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you’d…And you were in my arms and I was telling you not to go, and then you fucking did, Lou, you left me. Oh my god Louis.” Harry’s sobbing, but no more tears are coming. “I felt your heart stop, I felt it I-”

“Shh, shhh baby it’s okay. It’s okay.” Louis squeezes Harry’s fingers feebly.

“You can’t ever leave me. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.”   

“Now you know how I felt when you went.” And there’s no malice in his voice, just love.

“Never never never. It’s me and you now Lou, it’s me and you.”

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

And Louis smiles, even though his face aches and his ribs are broken and the stitches in his stomach are fresh and painful. He smiles because he knows that this is it, this is where he’s meant to be, and everything will be alright from now on. This is heaven, this is home.

Home is wherever I’m with you.

Chapter Text

One and a half months later

“Louis if you’ve lost your passport I will fucking strangle you I swear.”

“I haven’t lost it! I’ve just got no idea where it is. I know it’s here somewhere.”

“Somewhere, where? In our flat?”

“Somewhere….on the planet.” Harry throws a pair of socks at him.

Twenty minutes later and they’re in the back of a taxi and Louis is nuzzling into Harry’s neck.

“Honestly Lou, who keeps their passport under the microwave.”

“Uh, only the love of your life.”

“Well the love of my life is a bloody fool.”

“I’m your fool, and you’re mine.”

“Off on honeymoon?” The driver’s friendly Northern accent brings them both back to earth.

“No, just a little Christmas break. It’s my birthday in 3 days and my boyfriend’s being all romantic taking me to Paris.”

“Sounds lovely, I like Paris, took the missus a couple of years ago.” They let him ramble on about bridges and museums whilst they grin at each other in the backseat, both perfectly aware of how sickening they are together.

Louis had stayed in the hospital for 2 weeks after the accident, and the nurses joked that Harry was there as much as they were. Visiting hours began at 8 and Harry was there every day at 7:59, arms full of magazines and food and flowers. Louis would shake his head at him when he woke surrounded by a new set of presents every morning, laughing at how easily Harry seemed to fit into his role as Louis’ carer.

“He’ll be a fantastic dad.” Mandy, the head nurse, noted one morning when Harry had popped out to get Louis a snack.

“Don’t tell him that, you’ll give him ideas.” Louis had laughed, but secretly he had been thinking exactly the same thing. Harry just seemed to know what Louis needed before he did, and he never complained about anything. When Louis was released from hospital a little early it was Liam and Zayn who had picked him up when he couldn’t get through to Harry. They’d helped wheel him to the car and get him comfortable in the back and then taken him to McDonalds to get him a burger when he complained he was hungry.

“You’re like a big baby, you know that?” Zayn said fondly.

“You do the same pouty look that Jack does when he wants something.” Liam adds.

Louis had just laughed and sipped on his milkshake. They carried on fussing when he was back in his flat, making sure he was comfy on the sofa and had everything he might need.

“Jesus Liam, what do I need a spatula for?”

“I dunno, might get an itchy leg.”

“I’m fine, honestly. You act like my parents.”

“Just so long as I’m the daddy.” Liam shoots back.

“Oh you’re the daddy.” Zayn growls and Louis almost throws up.

“Jesus, get out! Both of you.”

They both lean down to kiss him on the cheek before leaving him in peace. He opens his mac, putting the TV on in the background. He checks his emails, smiling at all of the lovely words filling his inbox. He replies to them all, thanking his friends and family for their support. He opens an email from Lottie and smiles at the attachment, a photo of him and Harry asleep at the hospital. Louis is stretched out with his bad leg propped up, eyes shut and face peaceful. Harry is curled around him, one leg tangled around Louis’ uninjured side, his head nuzzled into Louis’ neck. He sends her a text to say thankyou.

His mum had arrived the night of the accident, frantic with worry and still wearing her pyjamas. Harry had managed to calm her down, but when she'dseen Louis she had broke down again, and stayed by his side long after the painkillers had knocked him back out.

Anne had finally managed to convince her to go back to Louis’ and get some sleep, and the two had driven off together. Liam had coaxed Zayn and Niall and Pepper into going home at around 2am, and they had all kissed Louis on the head before heading off. Nobody even bothered asking Harry to do the same. They just told him to take care of Louis and hugged him tightly goodbye.

He had slept briefly in the chair by Louis’ bed, but had been woken by the nurse coming in first thing.

She had scolded him, and told him he was no use to anybody here. He grumbled, but when Johannah and Anne appeared at 8am he gave in.

“Tell him I’ll be back soon.” He told Louis’ mum. “Tell him I love him.”

“Of course I will. Go, go.”

His mum made him some breakfast whilst he showered and changed, and he drank the large cup of coffee she handed him gratefully. She tried to convince him to nap but Harry flat out refused, and so she just drove him back to the hospital.

Louis was awake when they got back and Harry rushed over to kiss him hello. Anne and Johannah went to get some coffee and left them in peace. Harry was wearing his big green fluffy jumper, and Louis stroked his fingers over the sleeve.

“My favourite on you.”

“That’s why I’m wearing it. And my lucky boots.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Louis’ sounded better, but the bruises on his face were rapidly darkening, and his eyes and forehead were coloured with greens, pinks and purples.

“How do you feel?”

“Not bad.” But Harry could tell he was lying.

“I still can’t believe you got hit by a car for me, Lou. That must be the definition of stupidity right there.”

“Hey, I was being romantic.”

“You were being insane, baby. Jesus, worst moment of my life. Why did you do it, Lou?”

“Are you serious? I love you, you idiot. I did it because I love you. I saved your life you ungrateful swine!”

“You died in my arms, Lou, I- I- thought I’d lost you.”

“Takes more than a fucking Ford Mondeo to finish me off, Haz.”

“Just so long as you know you’re never leaving my sight ever again.”

“What, never?”

“Never, never, never. I meant it when I said forever.”

“So did I. But it doesn’t sound practical. Can I at least pee on my own?”

“Nope, ‘fraid not.”

“Jeez, you don’t mess about.”

Harry just smiled and pressed soft kisses to each of his fingers.

“Mine, mine, mine, mine…” And Louis closed his eyes and let himself drift back to sleep as the painkillers do their work.

-

When Louis has finished checking his emails and reading the news he shuts his laptop and grabs the remote, flicking through the channels looking for something trashy to watch. He settles on some Amerian reality show, wriggling a little to get comfortable as he turns the volume up. The kittens climb up to sit by him, hesitant at first because of his unfamiliarity, and then bolder as they recognise him. Ian climbs up and curls on Louis’ chest and he strokes him gently. He watches the TV until he gets drowsy and he’s just drifting off to sleep when the door slams and he hears his name being called.

“Louis? Louis are you here- oh thank God.” Louis opens his eyes to see Harry standing in front of him, face stricken. His voice is laced with panic. “I went to the hospital to get you, and- and the bed was empty and nobody seemed to know and I just thought- oh god I just panicked.”

“You have to stop worrying about me Haz, I’m good as new.”

“I’ll never stop worrying about you.” But Harry’s face is softer now and he shrugs off his jacket and pulls off his shoes and comes over to kiss Louis hello. Ian meows and jumps off Louis and onto the floor.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Anything that isn’t hospital food. Why don’t we just order some pizza and veg out on the sofa?”

And so they do, and Harry even lets Louis choose the film, and doesn’t complain when he picks Grease.

“I'm hurt, so I’m allowed it.”

“You’re allowed whatever you want, Lou.”

“In that case…” Louis grins and pulls Harry over to him for a kiss.

“Mmm, pepperoni.” Harry jokes and Louis giggles into his neck. Harry gets up to clear their plates and put the film on. They don’t even get halfway before Louis is dozing again. Harry looks at him lovingly and gets up to find him a blanket. He’s pulling one out of the drawers in their room when something under a folded sheet catches his eye. He laughs when he realises what it is. The polaroid’s from his first day of work. Every single one. There he is laughing with a banana on his head, and then pulling a deranged face, and then with his tongue out. Harry had completely forgotten about them, and it seems like a whole lifetime ago that he had been standing in Louis’ office, already so at ease with the man in front of him, already falling for him.

He shuts the drawer and straightens up, still holding the polaroid’s. He grabs the blanket with his free hand and returns to the living room. Louis is awake now and Harry throws him the blanket before holding up the photographs.

“I found your porn stash, Tommo.”

“Oh my god, no.” Louis buries his face in his hands, groaning. “I’m such a pervert don’t look at me.”

“Are you kidding I fucking love it! You were hot for me even then.”

“Babe I’ve been hot for you since I first met you.”

“Mmhmm, bet you wanted to cover me in more than orange juice.”

“You’re so bad.” But Louis is smiling, his teeth tugging at his lower lip.

“It’s just been too long.” Harry’s eyes are burning and he’s staring at Louis with longing.

“Better get over here then.” And Harry practically jumps over the furniture to get to his boyfriend.

“Careful, I have got a bum leg remember.”

“Sorry baby.” Harry says, already kissing Louis’ neck hungrily.

His recovery had been slow and frustrating at times, but Harry had been calm and sweet every step of the way, excusing Louis’ dark moods and snappy comments. He’d just kept on smiling, kept on supporting him, and eventually Louis had started to improve.

Now, more than a month later, they’re headed off together to Paris for Louis’ birthday and Christmas. They’ll spend Louis’ birthday and Christmas day in a hotel in the centre of Paris before flying to the South of France to stay in a little cottage for another week.

“They aren’t called cottages in France.” Harry says as he unloads their suitcases from the back of the taxi.

“Oh shut up.” Louis replies, taking Harry’s hand as they head towards the ferry. 

They walk on amongst a crowd of other travellers, anonymous in the chaos. They climb up on the top deck and Harry stands close behind Louis, their hands pressed together as they hold the railings. Louis looks down at the lower deck, shivering slightly even in his coat. There is a man standing looking out to sea on the deck below them, beautiful long hair blowing slightly in the breeze. He turns and looks up, revealing a row of perfect teeth as he smiles. Louis wonders why he looks so familiar. A rush of déjà vu burns through him, lights and grass and sand and—but then the man is gone and Harry is leaning round to kiss him and Louis turns his head so their lips can meet and everything else washes away.

He forgets the man, forgets the whole damn universe, as Harry’s lips move against his.

The boat begins to pull away from land and the white clouds part and a beam of sunlight parts the sky and warms their cheeks. Harry and Louis pull apart a few inches, foreheads pressed together as they smile. Louis turns to face forward again and they look out at the open sea together, the horizon a beautiful mess of orange and white and Louis thinks that he feels pretty damn invincible in this moment.

Harry feels the outline of the little green box in his top pocket and smiles and thinks exactly the same.