Archive of Our Own ^beta

21 weeks. Nearly five months to the day, and still, even with all the time that had passed, Harry didn’t have a clue who was laying next to him. He was pretty sure there was a time when he did know, but then again, he wasn’t really sure of too much these days. He wasn’t one to refuse to accept blame where blame was due, but this was different. This was Louis. Louis was supposed to be his eternal summer. His happily-ever-after. His soulmate. 

Was it possible for things to fall apart, even with those facts in place? Or had Harry just been too young to really get it? Had he put all of his eggs in one basket without giving it enough thought? It didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel like he’d made the wrong choice. It felt like he had done nothing but make the right choices, but it had still fallen apart. Was he the only one who saw it? Was he the only one who felt like he was sleeping next to the ghost of the boy he’d fallen in love with? 

They’d lost themselves in the circus and it hurt him in ways he hadn’t expected, because he thought they’d been better, stronger. There was a time when he thought they would have made it through anything. 

And now? Now they barely even spoke. Now every word he tried to say to Louis got caught in the back of his throat and he spent more time tongue-tied and confused than actually certain of anything. The whole world had shifted somehow and he wasn’t really sure what he should have done to stop it. It felt like he was completely powerless, and what was he supposed to do when it seemed like Louis had embraced the distance? It seemed like none of it affected him. 

How was Harry supposed to find a fight inside of him when he was sleeping next to a stranger? They’d changed—everything about them had changed and he didn’t know if this new place he was in was even worth fighting for. 

There were about a million miles between them and he wasn’t sure that he had the energy to hike that distance. He wasn’t sure that if he was able to get there that he’d even find the boy he’d fallen in love with. 

Love is a horse with a broken leg, trying to stand while 45,000 people watch. 

He’d read that line in a poem once, and it was ironic, because before everyone had started to watch? Their love had been strong enough to do much more than stand. They could have won the Kentucky derby, finished on top as best in show and still had enough left over to win a few rounds of polo. 

But. 

Then everyone had started to watch and maybe they’d only been kidding themselves. Maybe they hadn’t been strong at all. Maybe real strength would have gotten them through this, and maybe they would have emerged together. It was possible that they were still the same dumb kids they’d been eight years ago when they’d met at a house party and Harry had stomped on Louis’ cigarette and demanded right then and there that he stop smoking, because Harry didn’t date smokers. Louis had tossed the rest of his pack into the swimming pool, and the rest had been history. 

But maybe now it wasn’t the kind of history that would be written on the walls for generations to come. Maybe they would continue to fade and eventually he wouldn’t even remember all those little things that had won him over. 

And the thing was, he’d always been so sure their love had been real because he was probably the only person in the world who could watch Louis destroy an entire kitchen while making a piece of toast and then not even feel the tiniest bit of resentment while cleaning up after him. He’d thought it meant something that he’d found Louis’ cutting sass endearing and not grating or irritating in anyway. He thought it had meant something that even while in the middle of exams and funerals and shifts at really awful jobs, Louis had always been able to make him smile. 

He’d thought a lot of things that weren’t quite the case. He’d thought they’d been infinite. He still wasn’t sure that they weren’t…but nothing could survive like this. Not even the hot, pulsing ball of fire that had been their love. 

Harry turned over and clutched his pillow to his chest, staring at the wall. It was just 3 more days until he turned twenty-six and it felt like everything was falling apart around him. He’d watched his friends get married, have babies and here he was, laying in a bed next to a man that was nothing more than a stranger with a matching ring. He didn’t have a clue who either of them were, yet they were still sleeping in the place where they’d once existed together. 

They were ghosts. They were two ghosts dancing around the fact that there was a very big possibility that they’d died long before either of them had ever bothered to notice. 

***

Louis was always beautiful in the morning, all rumpled clothes and disheveled hair. His eyes were always particularly blue and his lips red and puffy. That was one thing that had never changed. It was just passed six in the morning and the January sun hadn’t bothered to show up just yet. Harry didn’t sleep much anymore, he’d never adjusted quite as well as Louis had to the distance in their bed. He’d forgotten what Louis’ schedule was like that week, and he hadn’t even really bothered to notice the empty place in the bed when he’d decided to get up and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

When he walked into the kitchen, though, he saw Louis. The fridge door was opened, and instead of taking out the milk and shutting the door, Louis had opted to do as he’d always done. He stood with the door opened and drank the milk directly from the carton. The light from the refrigerator washed out Louis’ skin, made him look less caramel and sun-kissed, but the moonlight coming through the window caught in the strands of his hair making it look lighter than it actually was. Louis was the most beautiful in moments like this, when he was exactly the person Harry had fallen in love with. He remembered trying to scold Louis that first morning they’d officially woken up together in their first flat and laughing hysterically through the whole thing. The thing was, Louis made an excellent lawyer for the fact that he could argue any point. Harry had called him a heathen, told him that drinking from the carton went against every hygiene rule he could think of. Louis had smiled and told him that swapping spit through a carton of milk was excusable because Harry had literally just had his lips wrapped around Louis’ cock that morning. Point one for Louis. He’d also gone on to explain that he didn’t do dishes—that he was total rubbish at it and he was really only thinking about Harry’s own well-being by not using a glass. Point two for Louis. 

Now though? Now it was just a thing that happened. Louis drank milk from the carton at all hours of the morning before running off to work so that he didn’t have to deal with the mess at home. 

Fucking coward. 

They were both fucking cowards, maybe. 

But, fuck, was his coward of a husband beautiful. Nothing had touched that. He cleared his throat and Louis looked over to him, putting the milk back in it’s place and closing the door. The room went dark, then, only the last remaining light from the moon trickled through the window. Neither of them spoke, they rarely did these days. In theory, Louis was still the same person he’d been 1, 3, 8 years ago, but in practice? In practice he was a stranger standing in the middle of their kitchen, wearing the same ripped white t-shirt he’d been wearing to bed for years. Somewhere on him were a few more tiny tattoos that Harry hadn’t known about until long after they’d happened. When questioned, Louis would shrug it off and give a one word explanation ‘Zayn’, he’d say. 

But, somewhere behind the darkness were the pieces of Louis that matched the pieces of Harry. The dagger he’d gotten while Harry had gotten the rose on their weekend in Monaco. Absently, Harry ran his fingers over the place where he knew the rose still lived. Maybe they were hieroglyphics left over from a time when they still understood each other. 

It was well-rehearsed, this thing they did these days. Harry went to him, wishing for all the world that his body was going to collide with his Louis. The Louis that he fell in love with all those years ago. But, the second that their lips met and Louis sighed into him, he felt the difference. It wasn’t the person he wanted it to be. Louis exhaled and tasted of milk and cigarettes and he was about a million miles away from being the person Harry needed him to be. 

Harry was probably about two million miles away from being the person that Louis wanted him to be, and that made his chest ache with an emptiness that was nearly permanent these days. 

He hadn’t realized he’d started to cry until Louis pulled away from him and held his cheeks firmly between his tiny hands. 

“What is it, H?”

He couldn’t do it. That was the problem, shouldn’t Louis see that? He couldn’t be trapped in this place anymore with nothing but the ghost of the person he’d once loved. He’d had it all, and the thing was that he couldn’t make himself settle for less than that. He needed Louis—but this wasn’t Louis. This wasn’t the person he’d planned to have a future with. They weren’t the same people, and admitting that had been an uphill battle—but he saw it now. He saw it in the way that Louis didn’t even taste like the same person anymore. In the way that just kissing him had created a flood of emotions in him—and they weren’t the good kind. Within that kiss had been a thousand tiny daggers digging into every broken piece of him. 

“I can’t do this,” his voice shook as he said the words. 

He was so uncertain, but so certain of his uncertainty. Whatever it was he needed to heal…it wasn’t here. There was no sense to break Louis any further, no sense to break himself any further. He couldn’t keep trying to cram himself into a place where he didn’t fit. 

They didn’t fit—not anymore. 

“Can’t do what?”

Harry could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat. There were still tears burning in his eyes. 

“This,” he said, just as Louis’ hand reached out to him. His thumb wiped at the tears falling from Harry’s eyes, barely taking away any of the moisture there. There was just too much, there was always too much. Harry pressed his back against the cupboards, sliding down slowly. He hit the floor with a thud and Louis was at his side instantly. 

Again, they crashed into each other, and Harry was sobbing, his chest completely empty yet it ached thoroughly. Louis’ lips still tasted wrong. Harry sobbed into him, spit clogging the back of his throat. He was ugly-crying, but Louis just kept kissing him. He just kept throwing himself at Harry, trying to fill all the wrong voids.

Finally, Harry put both of his hands against Louis chest—pushing him back. Louis looked positively wrecked in the darkness of their tiny kitchen. Harry wasn’t innocent. He’d become someone else, too. Someone that even he didn’t recognize, and maybe that was the problem. Maybe he needed to take some time away from Louis to figure out what this new version of him wanted. He wasn’t benefitting Louis by sitting across him at the dinner table and pretending to care about all of his inter-office politics and pretending like he knew the difference between who ‘Brad’ and ‘Ben’ were. They’d lost touch. He couldn't remember the last time that he’d felt like he was in touch with Louis…it had probably been before all the pressure and the planning and the general circus act that comprised their wedding. Again, he hadn’t been innocent. 

“I think,” Harry said between sniffles, “that I’m going to stay with Gemma for a bit.”

Louis’s expression didn’t change. His eyes didn’t even flicker with the slightest hint of emotion. He just stared back at Harry, wiping fruitlessly at his tears, trying to make everything look perfect—and that was the problem. They were always doing that. They were always trying to make themselves look good for the rest of the world while they silently crumbled under the pressure. 

“Just like that?” Louis finally spoke, his hands on either side of Harry’s face, forcing them to look at each other. 

“No,” said Harry, the spit in the back of his throat making it harder and harder to speak. He was still crying, still sniffing the snot to the back of his nose, still coughing while he choked on the emptiness in his chest. “Not, ‘just like that’, Lou. I can’t keep pretending to be okay. We’re not okay.”

…

Harry was standing in the living room, in some sort of daze. He’d been like that since that morning. Since he’d stood in the kitchen and watched the sun rise while Louis buzzed around him, getting ready for work like nothing was different. Of course it figured that he’d not bat an eye at any of it. That was how he coped. It had always been how he coped. He shut down and let things happen and there had been a time when Harry had fought him on it—had forced him to actually deal with the things happening around him. Now, though, he’d just stood there, staring out the window and watching as the sun lit up the kitchen as it slowly erased the last night he’d spend there. He hadn’t moved until he’d heard Louis’ car pull out of the drive, and even then he didn’t really feel awake. He was still in a trance, looking through his closet, trying to figure out what he cared about and what he wouldn’t miss. 

It was incredible to him how fast he was able to pack. Their stuff had been mixed together for the past eight years and now he’d managed to fit everything he thought he cared about into two suitcases. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before he came back. If he would even bother. There was a very large part of him that fancied the idea of starting over from the ground up. Everything else was so full of Louis. How would he ever be able to move on, to discover himself if he came back for all the things that were full of him?

Now, Harry was stood in the living room. It was barely passed noon and he couldn’t really tell if he was upset. He couldn’t feel much of anything, really. He was completely empty on the inside, hollowed out by a long battle against Louis, against what they’d become. 

He stared at the couch, vaguely aware that he might have been sad. He was lost, though. Lost in a memory that he couldn’t stop replaying as he stared at the couch, at the right cushion and the indent where Louis always sat—where he’d sat for years. All the years they’d lived together. Next to it, the middle cushion was worked in, that had always been Harry’s spot, up until recently. Now he sat on the chair across the room. The chair with a bad view of the telly that made his neck hurt the next day. But it had somehow been easier that way. It had been simpler to not pretend they still shared the same intimacy. 

But he remembered that intimacy. He remembered 14 months ago, sitting on that exact couch, watching as Louis eyes sparkled.

They had just come home from a weekend in Holmes Chapel with Harry’s family. They had spent the better part of the way driving back to Manchester stopping in every foolish and insignificant place on the roadside—it was kind of their tradition. It was who they were. They were adventurers, first and foremost. It was how they’d been, ever since that first summer they’d been together when they’d toured most of Europe with barely fifteen hundred pounds between them. Harry reckoned that it was one of the ways they’d fallen even further in love, sleeping on train station benches and snogging in bathroom stalls until their lips were sore, and blowing each other in hostel bathrooms with who-knew-what growing between the grout. They’d burned hot and fast, and that had never really changed. Even with the years they’d spent together, Louis couldn’t walk out of the bathroom in just a towel without Harry pouncing. The burning desire to feel his skin was something that Harry was hopelessly addicted to. 

They had quiet moments, too, though. Moments that made Harry’s chest burst with fondness for the saucy hot-tempered boy who could never quite snap on Harry the way he did the rest of the world. The boy who could argue anything to death, but would always let Harry win. 

Louis was sitting on his usual cushion, Harry lounging with his head on his lap while they argued without any real bite about what to watch on Netflix.

“Your mum gave me shit again today,” Louis said off-handedly, his free hand twirling through Harry’s curls. 

“Sure you deserved it,”

Louis reached over and pinched one of Harry’s nipples, a small laugh falling from his lips while he managed to continue flicking through their Netflix options. 

Harry rubbed a palm over his nipple, trying to ease the sting, “what did she say?”

“Same thing me mum said when I was on the phone with her last week,” Louis said, like Harry had any clue what he and his mother had spoken about. 

“Which was?”

Louis abandoned his job of trying to flick through titles and put the remote down, staring at Harry. “She asked me why I haven’t married you yet,”

There was a kind of seriousness in Louis’ voice that wasn’t normally there. Louis was typically all piss and vinegar and Harry had to fight him to take anything seriously. Something fluttered in Harry’s stomach. They’d talked about it—a million times. It wasn’t a priority. It was something they’d probably get around to one day… that’s what they’d always said. There was something in Louis expression, though, that made Harry think that maybe they were ready for it to be someday. 

“What did you tell her?”

Louis shrugged, tugging at the elastic Harry was using to hold his hair in a bun, “said I didn’t know,” he said as he successfully untangled Harry’s hair and it fell across his lap.

Louis fiddled with the elastic band and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. He bit his lip a couple of times before he spoke again, releasing a whole new hoard of butterflies in Harry’s stomach, “and I don’t know, you know? Its not like I don’t want to be married to you, I guess we’ve just been focused on other things.”

That was true. They’d made a pact on the eve of Harry’s twentieth birthday that they would spend their twenties on adventure. Louis had vowed that he would kiss Harry on every continent (except for Antarctica, because winter was ‘bloody ridiculous’). When Harry turned thirty? That’s when they’d start worrying about being adults. Their twenties would be their time, so they could fall in love properly, harder and harder every year. It wasn’t that they didn’t want the future, but things would change when they had kids and Louis said that he would never be able to live with himself until he’d taken Harry to every place he ever wanted to see. It had all made sense up until that moment. 

Because Harry’s heart was racing in his chest. They had been together for six and a half years and he knew every single tiny detail about Louis, but he hadn’t known this. He hadn’t known how badly he wanted to hear Louis say the words. He hadn’t known how badly he wanted it until it was staring him directly in the eyes. 

“So what do you say, H?” Louis asked, his blue eyes sparkling down at Harry, not an ounce of fear or anything other than complete certainty, “do you think we ought to be married?”

Harry tried to be nonchalant about it, tried to shrug, but he couldn’t fight the grin as it took over his face. “Don’t know, what do you think?”

“I think,” Louis said softly, “that I would not mind even the tiniest bit if I was married to you.”

Harry was giddy, his breath not quite reaching his lungs in the way that he wanted it to. He could feel the blush on his face as Louis stared down at him. Harry turned over and buried his face in Louis’ tummy, face flush against that ratty old white shirt he always wore to bed. Of course it would be like this. Of course Louis would bring it up like this, all soft and quiet when there was nobody else to see it. He knew Harry well. Knew how Harry would melt at the words and knew how he never felt like they had a thing to prove to the rest of the world. Their love was for them—anyone could have seen it if they cared enough to look—but they didn’t need the rest of the world to see it for them to know it was the sort of thing that lasted forever. Harry had never in his life been more certain of anything. 

“Hey,” Louis said, tugging on one of Harry’s curls, trying to get him to look up again. Harry allowed himself one more embarrassingly eager smile against the safety of Louis’ stomach before he rolled back over, staring up at Louis. Louis grinned down at him, “Harry Edward Styles?” oh, god, Harry was actually going to die if it was possible to die from too much happiness. Maybe he should feel guilty, because surely people weren’t supposed to meet their soulmate when they were only eighteen and then never so much as stumble. They’d been so steadfast for so long. There was no reason to ever expect that anything with Louis could ever possibly be less than perfect.

“Louis William Tomlinson?”

“Do me a favour?” Louis asked, and fuck, Harry loved his cheeky smile. Loved it the most of all of his smiles—except for maybe his sexy smile, or his holding babies smile…well, it was definitely in the top-ten. 

“What would that be?”

“Marry me. Love me forever.”

Harry couldn't help it, he grinned like a small child at Christmas again, turning over and hiding his face in Louis’ shirt. “You didn’t think this through at all did you?”

“‘Course I did, for the last six years or so,”

Harry smiled, turning back over to look at Louis. Louis’ eyes were so soft and so fond and Harry knew that this was forever because there wasn’t a thing in the world that Louis had ever looked at the way he looked at Harry. 

Louis reached out and grabbed Harry’s left hand then, wrapping the hair-tie around his ring finger three times before speaking again, “just say yes?”

“Yes,” Harry said, a smile so wide on his face that he just knew that committing his life to Louis would result in his smile lines becoming permanent. That his crows feet would be well-earned from all the nights Louis would keep him up late laughing too hard to sleep. He would earn every single line on his face from a life with the only person in the world who made his entire face change when he smiled. Louis was everything and there was just no way that this wasn’t the best decision they ever made while searching through Netflix. 

After all the years they’d spent being perfect, all it took was fourteen months to tear it all down. That was the realization that it took for Harry to stare down at his hand. There on his fourth finger was a golden band, staring him in the face, reminding him of all the ways they’d failed. Of all the ways they had broken. 

Fourteen months ago, while sitting with his head in Louis’ lap, Harry had realized that the thing he wanted most in the world was his future with Louis. He’d wanted this, this foolish wedding ring more than he’d ever wanted anything and he didn’t have a clue that getting it was going to be the thing that made him lose Louis. He hadn’t even known how badly he wanted it until Louis had offered it to him like it was simple math. Like it was the progression they’d been meant to take. Louis had been everything to him for so long that it had only made sense that it would stay that way forever. 

Now though? Now that feeling was gone. It was a ghost of a memory of his ghost of a husband. They weren’t the same people and it was time to stop pretending. 

Harry slid the ring off of his finger. It was the first time he’d taken it off in 21 weeks. He’d vowed that he never would. He remembered his Nan’s superstition that it would curse a marriage to take off the ring. He hadn’t realized that he and Louis had been cursed from the moment they’d announced it. 

He was crying again, that seemed to be his permanent state these days. He was a mess, and Louis was always gone. Always at work, always anywhere but with Harry. He was always standing there in the living room crying while the man who was supposed to love him forever forgot how to comfort him. Forgot to care about comforting him. 

He looked at the ring in his palm, he didn’t know what to do with it. Most of him wanted to lay it on the coffee table for Louis to deal with—but that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to put all the blame on Louis, to task him completely with cleaning up their mess. It wasn’t his fault that they’d broken and that their broken pieces refused to fit together anymore. 

The thing was, as different as Harry was, he was still in love with the person that Louis had been. He needed to learn how to not be. 

He slid the ring into his pocket and locked the door behind him. 

…

Harry was standing on the front step of Gemma’s house. His palms were sweating and he had his hand poised in front of her door. He had been trying for the past two minutes to summon the courage to knock. He was really not having a lot of success with life that day. He’d already managed to call in sick and leave his husband like a thief in the night. He was pretty ready for the day to be done. He’d probably caused enough damage to last him the rest of the week (or month) (or year). Gemma’s guest bed looked good from where he was standing (in the middle of an existential crisis). He wanted to be wrapped in the sheets, but he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. He couldn’t just waltz in without any sort of explanation and he didn’t even have a clue as to what his explanation might even be. 

He didn’t know what he was doing. 

Finally, somehow, he found the courage to knock. Gemma worked from home, so the odds of her not being there were pretty slim. It took about 45 seconds before she opened the door. 

“Harry,” she said, a smile on her face. The smile faltered a little, though, when she saw the two suitcases next to him, “where are you going?” her brows were knitted together in confusion.

He let out the breath that he’d been holding in since about 6 o’clock that morning and felt himself crumble just a tiny bit more, his voice cracking on the words, “can I stay with you for awhile?”

Gemma’s entire face fell. She loved Louis, loved them together. She’d been their cheerleader ever since that first night he’d met Louis and had confided in her. She’d been so happy for them through every insignificant thing that had happened in their life together. Now, he was basically asking her, after eight years, to put that behind her. To pretend that she had only cared for Harry the entire time, that she didn’t harbour any hurt feelings over the lack of Louis on her doorstep. This whole thing was shit. He didn’t know how he was supposed to divide their life up neatly. He wasn’t sure there was a way to do it without hurting all the people in their lives. 

His chest ached when he remembered that ‘the girls’ weren’t his girls anymore. Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy, Phoebe? They were Louis’ sisters. The babies? They weren’t even babies anymore, but they weren’t Harry’s anymore either. He had to say goodbye to all of it, as if saying goodbye to Louis hadn’t been bad enough. 

Harry was a mess. He wasn’t even sure how he was going to get through the rest of that day, let alone how he was going to get through the rest of the days to come. Had he just said his last words to Louis? Were they ever going to speak again? Talk about all of the things they lost when they’d somehow lost each other in the hurricane of the rest of the world? 

Gemma reached out then, taking Harry’s left hand in hers. She ran a tentative finger over the slightly indented skin where his wedding band had sat for nearly five months. She dropped his hand immediately then, wrapping her arms around him and successfully breaking Harry wide open.

“I thought we were unbreakable,” his voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, not to Harry Tomlinson. This wasn’t the person he was supposed to be. 

…

Harry was sitting on Gemma’s couch, his back to Lou while she braided his hair and rubbed soothing circles into his back. He hadn’t really spoken much to anyone. Gemma had called Lou, had called Niall. He wasn’t really sure what she’d told them, but they were currently all sitting in her living room sipping tea and trying their very hardest not to bring up anything that might relate back to one Louis Tomlinson. He wasn’t sure if it made it better or worse to pretend that Louis didn’t exist. He’d have to analyze that later on. 

For now, there was a bubbly four-year-old running through the front door and straight for him. 

“Harry!” she yelled as she barrelled straight into his lap, “you weren’t at school today.”

Harry taught Kindergarten and he honestly loved every second of it. It was exactly the career he’d dreamed it was going to be. Harry was crazy about kids, and being surrounded by dozens of them day-in and day-out hadn’t changed that at all. He remembered when Lou had first gotten pregnant and he was pretty certain that he’d been at least five times as excited as she was. He was one Lux’s god-parents (he wasn’t going to think about who her second god-father was—not now) and it wasn’t a job he’d ever taken lightly. He’d been involved with her from the time she was nothing more than a squirming little thing demanding bottles and screaming so loud he thought his ear drums might burst. 

Of course, it only stood to reason that Lou and Tom had chosen the school Harry worked at for their precious little girl. Harry was a fair teacher, he really was, but he couldn’t help but play favourites when it came to his god-daughter. 

Lux settled into Harry's lap and he wrapped his arms around her, placing a kiss on the top of her head. She was probably one of the smartest little girls in the world, and she could sense the sombre sort of atmosphere. Lou finished wrapping an elastic around the last braid she’d put in Harry’s hair and got up to greet Tom. Niall was sitting on the floor, flipping mindlessly from golf tournament to golf tournament and Gemma was just sitting in her chair, kind of watching the entire thing, like she was too afraid to move. Too afraid to speak. 

“Why is everyone so sad?” Lux asked loudly, managing to catch Niall’s attention. 

He turned around to her, a big fake smile slapped onto his face, “not sad, little one, just quiet.”

Lux took in the rest of the room, trying to find the missing piece. The reason things were so quiet. Harry felt himself cringing automatically. He wasn’t ready to hear her say it, but it was on the tip of her tongue. It only took her a second to realize why things were so quiet, why everyone was missing their spark…

“Where’s Louis?”

The whole room fell silent. Everyone was holding their breath. Niall muted the telly and watched as Harry searched within himself to find the words. 

“He…” Harry couldn’t think of a single way to try and explain this mess to a four year old. How would Harry ever be able to break it to her that sometimes people fell apart? He didn’t want her to expect that of the world… “he’s at home…at his home.” 

There was really no other way to say it. Louis and Harry had had a home—a lot of homes that they had shared together through the years—but the one Harry had left behind? That was maybe the last, and it wasn’t his anymore. Maybe Louis wasn’t his anymore. It was all too fucking awful and too fucking painful to even try to sort though. He didn’t like it and the only thing he could think of that was worse than leaving was staying in the place they’d been in for the last year. There had been a time, a lot of years in fact, when Harry had been certain that Louis was his home, but the foundation had crumbled and they’d just been living in ruins and the thing was that they both deserved better. Maybe that meant that Harry had to be homeless for a bit—but he could survive it if it meant that he might finally have a chance to figure out who he was. 

…

Harry swirled his feet in the chilly pool water, watching as the cigarettes floated around in the current he created. The late September air held a bit of a bite to it, but it was serving to clear Harry’s mind because he was a little bit swept up in emotions (and cheekbones and blue eyes). Maybe he’d had too much to drink because he’d never been so bold with a boy before, but he’d looked Louis right in the eyes and stomped on his cigarette. He’d told him that he didn’t date smokers, and maybe that was coming on too strong. Or maybe it wasn’t because Louis had chucked the entire remainder of his pack one by one into the pool all while maintaining flawless eye contact with Harry. Then they’d just kind of smiled at each other like they were fifteen and didn’t have a clue what they were supposed to do next. 

That had been a full thirty minutes ago and now Louis had slipped off to the toilet and left Harry outside to try and make sense of what he was feeling. He was insanely aware of the way his heart was hammering in his chest, even at just the thought of Louis. The thing was, Harry wasn’t looking for anything. It was his first year away from home and he was only eighteen. This was supposed to be the year he took to discover himself. This was supposed to be the year that he discovered every cute boy that caught his eye and he was supposed to worry about settling down later—not stomping on cigarettes and talking about dating complete strangers. 

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder then, and he looked behind him and was met with those perfect oceanic blue eyes. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Louis asked quietly. 

Somehow they had ended up back in the dorm Louis was staying in. There were stacks of law textbooks all over the table and there was a mountain of clothes at the end of Louis’ bed. Louis settled onto the mattress and patted the spot next to him. 

Harry made a tisk tisk sound and wagged his index finger back and forth, “we only just met. Do you really think I’m the kind of guy who’d hop into bed with a total stranger?”

Louis laughed then and it was kind of a magical sound, “listen, love, I’m not that kind of guy either, but I also lack other seating options, so if you don’t mind, kindly don’t make my offer cheap?”

Harry swooned a little bit at the way that Louis was looking up at him through his lashes. He felt like he was standing on a rocking boat, and not planted firmly on solid ground. Louis’ eyes were unlike anything he’d ever looked at before and were deserving of about a million cliches, but Harry was too wrapped up in feeling sort of like he wanted to vomit and sort of like he wanted to jump on top of Louis and snog him until he promised he’d be Harry’s forever. It was a sticky place to be. Also, Louis had called him ‘love’ and that was something that he could probably become hopelessly addicted to. 

So, he swallowed hard and tried to walk along the swaying floor without tripping and made his way to the bed. He sat down beside Louis and balled his hands up in his lap, staring at them nervously. “What now?” he asked softly, not really expecting a response. 

“Now I woo you,”

Harry chuckled softly, risking a glance up at Louis, his blue eyes still sparkling in exactly the way they had been all night, “and how do you plan on doing that?”

There was a sort of mischief shining in Louis eyes and Harry could probably have gotten addicted to that, too, “well, I have a lot of skills. For example, did you know I’m the captain of the football team here?”

Harry was feeling cheeky, there was something about Louis that brought that out. “I don’t really care much about football,”

“Well, I make a mean cup of Yorkshire tea. It’s something I really excel at.”

“I like green tea,” 

“You’re pretty difficult, Harry Styles.”

Harry smiled, “still willing to put in the effort?”

Louis nodded, the smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle up, Harry was done for, he felt fairly confident of that fact. 

“You ruined my plan, you know?” Harry said almost so softly that he wasn’t sure if Louis would hear. 

“What plan?” Louis asked. 

“Well, this was my first year away from home. I’ve only been gone a month. I wanted to have fun…I didn’t expect to meet someone.” 

Harry’s words hadn’t really come out the way he’d meant them to. Louis’ expression fell. It didn’t last long, but Harry saw it and a horrible feeling fell into his stomach. Louis collected himself quickly and got to his feet. He started to walk toward the door. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked nervously from the bed. 

“Bad timing,” was all Louis said before he walked out of the door. 

Harry was stuck there, sitting on Louis’ bed and wondering what the hell he’d just said that had sparked such a unexpected reaction. He was really bad at this, wasn’t he?

Then, the door opened up again and Louis walked through, a smile on his face. He stood with his back pressed against the door. “Is now a better time to meet someone?” Louis asked softly. 

Harry couldn’t help it. He was completely powerless. Yeah, now was a better time. Now was the perfect time because despite the fact that he’d only just met him hours ago, Harry felt pretty confident that there would never be a bad time when it came to Louis. 

He’d been right about that, too, for eight years anyway. 

Somehow, without really deciding to, Harry had spent the night in Louis’ dorm. They’d talked for hours, until a faint silhouette of the sun had started to ghost outside of the window. Then, after waiting for hours and asking him every single question that mattered (where would you go if you had to leave tomorrow? How do you take your tea? What was the best novel you ever read? What is your mother’s maiden name? What three things would you actually grab if your house was on fire? Who was your favourite philosopher? Do you believe in good and bad or is it a spectrum?) Louis asked him the most important question, ‘can I kiss you?’ and Harry had bowed his face toward Louis’ without any hesitation and breathed out a soft ‘yes please’. 

They’d kissed until the room was completely lit from the morning sun and until Harry couldn’t remember who’s tongue was who’s and it had been so nice. It had been so much more. There was no sexual fever burning behind Louis’ kiss. He wasn’t rushing into it, he seemed to just be softly memorizing the curvature of Harry’s lips and committing it all to memory. 

Harry had been doing the same. 

Eventually, they’d given in to sleep and Harry had slowly turned his back to Louis and Louis had wrapped himself completely around him. He’d whispered all sorts of promises against the back of Harry’s neck and Harry had felt pretty confident that he’d probably never see his own bed for the rest of the year—not when this was his other option. Not when he could have stayed awake until seven in the morning kissing and talking to the actual most brilliant boy in the entire universe. 

Eventually, though, they did wake up. It had been some time in the early afternoon, and it took Harry solid few moments to realize where he was when his eyes fluttered open and he realized he was pressed up against someone’s back. There was a half a second of panic in his stomach before he remembered the kisses, the faint taste of Pimm’s and cigarette’s and the soft tug of stubble against his skin. All of those memories and the sweet smell of Louis’ skin were probably the reason he was currently half-hard and pressed against the perfect swell of Louis’ bum. Instinctually, without thinking about it what-so-ever, he rocked his hips forward, relishing in the friction it created. It took him another half a second to collect himself and realize that maybe it wasn’t okay to grind his half-hard cock against someone who was…a stranger. 

But, maybe if he played his cards right (by not thrusting up against him without even asking), Louis wouldn’t have to be a stranger. 

Slowly and as carefully as he could, he started to pull away. He could slip away to the loo and deal with things on his own and then maybe come back with tea or something. That’s what romantic people, did, right? Just as he started to peel his hips away from Louis, Louis backed into him, making Harry bite down on a groan. Louis confidently pressed his arse harder against Harry, reaching his hand around behind him and forcing Harry’s hips back against his. Harry’s breath caught in his throat at the incredible feeling of Louis against him, even through all the layers he felt his cock twitch, hardening even more.

“Stay.” 

Louis’ voice was groggy, a sort of rasp to it that grated against all of Harry’s sensory receptors and forced his hips to jut forward again without his permission. 

Before they’d fallen asleep that morning, Louis had loaned Harry a pair of his joggers and Harry couldn’t have been more grateful in that moment that he wasn’t trapped against his skin-tight jeans. He could feel sweat pooling at the back of his neck as Louis’ hand slid from the back of hips down to the waistband of his pants, dipping his fingers in, slowly peeling them down. Louis slid his hand in then, gripping Harry’s ass and grinding up harder against Harry’s hard-on. Louis groaned in the most delicious way and finally, Harry came to his senses and bit down against the crook in Louis’ neck. Louis dug his nails into Harry’s bum, forcing Harry forward against him. This time, Harry was able to coax out the most enticing moan from the back of Louis’ throat. They rocked against each other again, a rhythm forming and Harry was probably going to come right there in his pants, like he was fourteen all over again. Maybe he didn’t care though, because the press of Louis’ ass against him was enough to suddenly make him feel religious. He would have been willing to write scriptures to the tanned glow of Louis’ skin and the way his heat radiated completely across Harry. He could probably have conducted entire sermons about the magic that was Louis’ mouth. Hymns could have been composed about the curvature of Louis’ hips, and Harry would have definitely followed any stars that would lead him back to this place, over and over again.

“Fuck,” Louis’ voice sounded jagged and like he was traipsing very close to the edge himself, “you feel so good,”

Harry couldn’t speak. He couldn’t form a word that would be able to sum up what he was feeling, what he wanted to keep feeling. His body was humming with desire and the tighter he shut his eyes and the harder Louis pressed back into him, he started to see stars. Harry was about 10 seconds and three most thrusts away from finishing when Louis finally gasped and broke their contact, turning over and facing Harry with a red flush to his cheeks and his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat that might be his, but could have very well been Harry’s. There was something divine about that observation. 

“Wait,” Louis said, pressing his hands on Harry’s chest and forcing his back against the mattress, “wait for me.”

Harry could barely think against the feeling of his cock hard against Louis’ joggers. There was a slight whimper that escaped his throat when Louis climbed on top of him, placing his knees on either side of Harry’s hips. Harry felt the press of Louis’ hard cock against his own and made a tiny hissing sound as Louis pressed them harder together. Louis was going to be the death of him. Slowly, Louis dipped down for a messy open-mouthed kiss, his teeth knocking against Harry’s in his haste to flick his tongue into Harry’s mouth. He nipped at Harry’s jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down Harry’s neck as the palm of his hand massaged Harry’s dick from outside of his pants. Harry was a panting mess below the perfect boy that was, now, succeeding very well at ‘wooing’ him. 

Slowly, without his teeth ever really leaving Harry’s skin, Louis slipped his hand beneath the waist band of his pants and let out his own hissing sound when his hand slid against the shaft of Harry’s cock, probably expecting there to be an extra layer, but Harry fancied being commando. Louis dipped his head further, biting at Harry’s collarbones and sliding his free hand under Harry’s t-shirt. He gave the base of Harry’s cock a tight squeeze, making Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head. 

“Wait for me, baby,” Louis mumbled against Harry’s tummy as he shimmied himself further down Harry’s body. 

He gave Harry’s dick a few quick pumps, flicking his thumb over the tip and spreading the precome down his shaft. Louis took his hand off of Harry’s dick then, lifting himself up and tugging the joggers down to Harry’s knees. He leaned back down then, kissing Harry’s stomach and taking the base of Harry’s dick back into his hand. He paused for only a moment to suck a love bite into the skin and Harry’s hip and then dipped his head lower, taking Harry’s cock into his mouth. 

Harry had been right, because he’d never spent another night without Louis in bed with him. Not for eight years. Louis would have sooner moved mountains then let Harry fall asleep without him by his side. It had never mattered what was happening in the world around them, Louis had always made it happen. More times than Harry could remember, Louis had been falling asleep sitting on the couch waiting for him to finish a lesson plan, but he’d never gone to sleep without Harry. That was, until that night. 

Now, Harry was laying alone in the spare bedroom in Gemma’s flat. He was staring at the ceiling, and all he could think about was how, on that first morning they’d woken up together and Louis had blown him like it was his god-given talent, Harry had gotten up to shower and as he walked toward the door, Louis had called after him. ‘Hey,’ he’d said, ‘gonna call my mum. Can I tell her you’re my boyfriend?’

Louis had always been so brave. So unafraid to wear his heart on his sleeve when it came to Harry. But, maybe when Harry had changed, that had changed, too. 

…

Something incredible had happened. Harry had woken up alone in Gemma's house and he was...okay. He'd made it. He'd slept. Louis hadn't been by his side, but somehow he'd made it through the entire night. 

Maybe there was hope yet. 

He felt pretty uncertain whether or not it had been a good thing. For eight years, even as they crumbled under the pressure of the rest of the world, they had slept next to each other. If it had been a year ago, Harry might have picked up his phone and sent a text to Louis. He might have asked how he'd slept. They'd been broken a year ago, too, but it hadn't been the same break. They probably could have stitched things up with a few soft words and a quiet getaway, but they'd sat on it. They'd let it fester. It was actually quite staggering to think of all the times either of them could have just pulled back and demanded that they rekindle themselves. They'd had so many chances, but Harry was guilty of trying to be what everyone else wanted. He'd wanted to make everyone else happy, but it had cost him Louis and that had really been the ultimate price, hadn't it? He'd lost his soulmate. He'd lost the person who he'd convinced himself he couldn't possibly lose. They were supposed to be in unbreakable. 

Harry spent most of the morning in a daze, showering without much of a thought. It was all very mechanical, as though, now, he was just running on autopilot. He was going through the 'human' motions, trying fruitlessly to remember what being human was actually like. 

Maybe he'd been too broken for too long and he'd run out of emotions. There was a very good chance that he just had nothing left to give. He'd already spent so many days crying, so many nights wide awake and now maybe he was just done. He couldn't go on forever mourning a relationship that had been dying for a long time, could he? Things had to get better. Being without Louis had to get easier. There was just no way pain like this was meant to be permanent. There was no way that this stoic state of being was going to be his new norm. It had to get better. 

...

Harry had been wrong because before anything got better, he found dozens of new ways to break. The first time was while he was digging his knife into Gemma's jar of jam and he started crying. Gemma's eyes had been distressed because she couldn't find a single trigger for it. It had been foolish, because Harry had been there, in the middle of her kitchen crying over a jar of jam that didn't have any crumbs left inside of it. Harry had been so used to digging around crumbs and nagging Louis relentlessly about how epically he failed at using jam...and without Louis in the house with him, it wasn't like that. 

Maybe that was a good thing, but Harry was still pretty unsure about a lot of things. 

The second time he'd broken had been the day it was time for him to pay rent. For a few years now, Louis had made a significant amount more money than he had, but it had always been important for Harry to contribute. He stared down at his laptop and logged into his bank account to email Louis his portion, same as he'd been doing for as long as he could remember. It was only one day until his 26th birthday, and he’d never felt further away from the things he thought he’d have by the time he’d turned 26. There had been a large part of him that had hoped, through the process of breaking that some kind of miracle would happen after the wedding. That once the storm had passed, they would find each other again. 

That hadn’t happened, and now he was staring at their joint savings account with nearly £10,000 in it. Most of it had been stuffed into cards that they opened the morning after their wedding. Most of the money had had notes along with them saying they wanted to help with a downpayment on a house. He and Louis had stuffed it all into a bank account, too guilty to spend it on anything else, and too broken to even consider looking at houses. 

It wasn’t who they were, though. Their twenties were supposed to be for travelling. They had saved worrying about the future for the future. 

The future that, it seemed, would never come. 

The third time he’d broken, had been maybe the worst of all. It had been on his birthday. When he’d first woken up, Gemma had been standing in the doorway to her kitchen, her shoulders slumped as she stared at the kitchen table. It had taken him a moment to realize what she was staring at, but the recognition settled into his gut almost instantly. 

There, on the kitchen table was giant bouquet of white chrysanthemums. They were the same flower Louis had gotten him year after year on his birthday. He brushed passed Gemma and picked up the card tentatively. It didn’t say much, just a few words scrawled across it in Louis’ familiar hand-writing.

Happy Birthday, H 

‘-Louis.

There was no love. No love written in the words or in the sentiment. Harry felt emptier than he had in a long time as he stared down at the flowers. They were supposed to mean devoted love, but Louis didn’t seem any more devoted than Harry had been. 

What had been worse was when he’d gotten to his classroom that day and found a second bunch on his desk. This time the note said ‘I miss us’.

And if that hadn’t successfully broken him enough? Well, the salt in his wound had been when he’d been sitting at the table in some crowded restaurant that night with Gemma, his mum, Niall, Lux and Lou and his phone had rang. Louis’ name flashed across the screen, and Lou had just openly gaped at him, waiting to see what he decided. On the last ring, he finally pressed the answer button, tearing out the front door of the restaurant into the frigid February air. He didn’t say anything. Louis didn’t either for a long time until his voice came across softly. It was uncertain in a way that Louis never was. 

“You there?”

Harry swallowed hard and tried to ignore the fact that his chest felt worse than empty. It felt like a black hole. Like all love and emotion had been sucked inside only to never be seen again. 

“Louis,” was all he managed. 

He felt the cold biting at his fingers as he gripped his phone to his ear. There were sounds all around him, people hurrying inside, trying to escape the cold, the pain. But here Harry was, rushing outside into the bitter cold to dive head-first into his pain. He could hear Louis breathing on the other end, but he wasn’t saying anything and Harry couldn’t think of a single thing in the world he wanted to tell Louis. That felt like the most significant part of the conversation they were having. Finally, once the silence had stretched on so long that Harry was certain the call had dropped, he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at it. The call time was displayed and blurred in the background was the first picture they’d ever taken together in the quiet of Louis’ dorm room during Harry’s first year of uni. It was possible that even in all the ways he’d already broken, that there was still more to come, because the pain in his chest intensified as the photo grated against his exhausted muscle. His heart was so beyond ready for all of this to be done. 

5:23. Five minutes and twenty-three seconds and all either of them had managed to say was a grand total of three words. Harry felt his lip quiver as he spoke. 

“I should get back to…”

Louis’ voice cut him off, “you left.”

Harry heard how Louis’ voice cracked on the words. It was easy to forget that he wasn’t the only one who’d been broken. Louis had loved him with everything he had. Harry held felt that once. 

Now, though, all he could feel was the way Louis made him feel like a stranger. 

“You didn’t ask me to stay,”

The fourth time he'd broken, he'd been sitting in Gemma's living room while they watched Come Dine with Me. For some reason, it had taken him several days of being in her house to even notice the framed picture hanging above her telly. When he did notice it, though, he felt new tears opening up in his heart. There, on the wall, was a picture of the three of them on their wedding day. Gemma in her lilac dress, standing on one side of Harry, her fingers meshed with his. Louis was standing on his other side, also holding his hand. Harry's grin was wider than it had been in a long time. Both Louis and Gemma had their lips pressed to his cheeks and Harry wasn't sure what about that picture hurt the most. 

Was it that it had been the last day he remembered ever having such a perfect moment with Louis? Or was it that he wasn't even sure that it had been as perfect as it looked? Had Louis been faking the whole moment for the sake of their photos? For the sake of Gemma and their mums and for the sake of everyone but them? It seemed like they'd been doing just that for a long time. Nothing about their wedding had been about them. 

"Can you take that down?" Harry's voice cut through the room just as the narrator took the piss out of one of the contestants for their prawn cocktail. 

Gemma had turned to him then, her face falling further than he'd seen it since he'd shown up on her doorstep. He'd been right. Losing Louis had been just as hard on her. Her eyes glistened slightly as she spoke the words she'd no doubt been waiting to say since Harry had shown up with suitcases and no explanations. 

"Are you really not going back?"

Something twisted in the pit of Harry's stomach. Of course he'd considered it. Especially in the moments when he'd been alone in the shower, tugging on his dick and trying to force his brain to think of something other than the tight heat of Louis. Other than the sounds Louis made when he came. He'd thought of it when he was laying in bed cold at night, but he'd also thought about what he'd be going back to. He'd be going back to a person that was empty. That held none of the things he'd fallen in love with. A person who used his work as an escape and never fucking said a word when he watched Harry break, and no, he didn't really want to go back. 

"Take it down."  

…

The last time Harry had heard from Louis had been on his birthday when he'd sent flowers and they'd managed to fill six minutes of call time with stark silence and a meek handful of words that hadn't really meant much. Slowly, Louis' name started to fall to the bottom of his most recent texts. It was in the little things, such as that, that Harry missed him the most. 

It had been two months and Louis hadn't said a single word to him. They hadn't really sorted through anything. Harry was intensely aware that it couldn't possibly all be done just like that. They had taxes to file, papers to sign, assets to divide and it stung more than just a little bit to know that Louis didn't even want to deal with it. That he didn't want to get it over with. Was he going to wait to spring it all on Harry when he was finally feeling okay? Would he wait to bury him under the weight of their failure until Harry had finally started to accept it?

The thing was, Harry wasn't sure when he was going to accept it. When he looked back on the whole thing, it just didn't make sense. People didn't fall in love the way he and Louis did. Was it even possible that after all the years he'd spent treasuring every second he spent with Louis that it would no longer matter? What was he supposed to do with the giant portion of his soul that had devoted itself to loving Louis so completely? How was it even possible that they had fallen apart? Louis was his entire world, his entire adult life and before everyone else had put themselves into it, he'd been so convinced that it would be like that for the rest of his life. He'd been so convinced that nothing could change them. That there was no way the world could shift and that he and Louis would wind up on opposite sides of the divide. It didn't make sense. 

He could pin-point it, too. The exact moment that things had shifted. It felt kind of like a cop-out, though, to put the blame on people who weren't him or Louis, though. 

"Vegas," said Louis as he rubbed at one of the stiff muscles in Harry’s shoulder.

Harry chuckled softly and turned to face Louis, "that's a bit cliche, don't you think?"

Louis laughed, "yeah, maybe. What about Paris?"

"We've already been to Paris. Don't you want to go somewhere different?"

"I do," said Louis, a cheeky smile in place, "I want whatever you want. Wherever you want," he paused a second, winding his fingers through Harry's, "what about a tropical island of some sort?"

"Actually," said Harry, "I was thinking maybe Canada."

"We've been there, too," said Louis a soft smile on his face, he was just playing. Harry could have said he wanted to get married in the sewers of London and Louis would have bought them gas masks and said 'I do' right in the middle of it. 

"Canada is big," Harry argued, “I was thinking the other side this time. Niagara Falls."

Louis smiled at him, his eyes sparkling a little more than they had been previously, "I like Canada," his voice was soft, fond. He was probably thinking of their last trip there. They'd gone to Whistler and stayed in a cabin for a week and hadn't spoken to a single other person for most of it. It had been magical. 

It had to say something about how well they loved each other that it had still been magical when, after flying Vancouver to Toronto to catch their connecting flight to Heathrow, they had found out it had been cancelled. They'd spent 14 long hours in the Person airport, sleeping on benches and buying every one of their siblings ridiculous souvenirs, including the moose that Gemma still had on display that dispensed chocolate covered raisins out of it's arse. 

Yeah, Canada had been good to them. 

"Lets book a flight," said Louis, impulsiveness was his strong suit. 

Harry smiled at his eagerness, "when do you want to go?"

Louis scoffed, "next week," he said, "wanna be married to you, like, yesterday." 

Harry smiled from ear to ear just as Louis dipped in and kissed him softly. Yeah, he wanted to be married to Louis yesterday, too. 

Harry added softly, "We should probably call our mums,”

Harry had been the one to say it, and maybe if he hadn't, things would have been different. 

But, he had said it and he had set into motion the most agonizing fall any infinite couple had taken.   

Harry placed his MacBook next to Louis' and pressed the call button. Louis' mum was already displayed, happily sitting next to Dan and smiling brightly at them while she waited for them to add Harry's mum into the mix. They did this a lot. They always FaceTimed their mums together. Seeing Jay's face made Harry realize how much he missed Louis' family. Maybe he'd have to convince Louis that they ought to drive out there for a weekend soon. 

Just as he thought it, his mum's face appeared on his screen, Robin ducking his head in to wave to him and Louis. 

Well, the gang was all there. Might as well start off strong. Harry spoke first, his skin buzzing with excitement. There was a hum through his entire body that originated from where Louis' hand was softly gripping onto his. He didn't think he'd ever been as sure of anything in his life than he was about running away to marry Louis. There was something about it that just fit. They'd fallen in love on their terms. They'd been together more than enough years to know what forever would taste like. The whole idea was so them. Marriage was just a technicality, and without it Harry would gladly still have the rest of his life next to Louis, but there was something magical about the idea of sliding that ring onto Louis’ finger. Of promising himself in front of a few strangers who didn't know how perfect their love had been, but would somehow see it in the way that Louis would look at him. In the way that Louis would cry, even as he swore up and down that he didn't subscribe to sappy mumbo-jumbo. 

Yeah, it would be perfect. They didn't know how to be anything less. 

"We made a decision," Harry started. It had been just a couple of weeks since Louis had asked him. His mum had hit the ceiling when he'd called her that night and Jay had wept into the phone praising Louis for finally 'getting his shit together'. 

"We're going to Niagara Falls in Canada in six weeks."

"What are you doing there?" It was Jay that asked. 

Harry looked to his left and met Louis perfect, stunning blue eyes and was met with a flawless smile. It took them a second of getting lost in each other before they remembered to respond. Once they did, their words came in unison, staring at their mums, their grins wide enough to cause permanent damage. 

"We're getting married," 

Harry and Louis were grinning at each other, forgetting to look back over the the computer screens. Harry couldn't wait. He didn't want to, but he still had to finish the last week of the school year and six weeks was the soonest Louis could petition for a holiday. So, they had to wait. 

Finally, Harry looked away from Louis and back to the computers. His smile fell slowly when he saw his mum wiping away tears. They had to be happy tears, though, didn't they? The whole thing was nothing but happy for he and Louis. 

"Aw, mum don't cry," Harry said softly. 

"I can't believe you're running away," it was Jay's voice, "the girls are going to be gutted, Louis, you know that, right? Daisy has been looking at dresses."

Oh. Harry hadn't thought about the girls, about Gemma, about Doris and Ernest. Was it selfish of them to only think about what they wanted when they had such a giant family to worry about?

It didn't feel like it was selfish, but the look on his mum's face and the words Jay had said? They made him feel differently. 

"Jay and I," Harry's mum started, "we already started discussing things. We thought maybe you'd want to get married here, in Holmes Chapel." 

"I want to see it, Louis," chided Jay. 

"We'll have pictures." Louis' voice was cutting, he was on the verge and Harry could feel it. He reached out and gripped Louis' hand, trying to bring him back down. 

"I don't want to see pictures, it's not the same," no one on earth could argue as well as Louis and his mother. They were cut from the same cloth. 

Before Louis could jump back in and give her the fuel she needed to argue more, Harry's mum spoke. 

"I only have one son," she said, her voice much softer than Jay's, "he's my baby."

...

Harry was sitting on the floor in Gemma's living room. It had been so long since he'd felt an emotion about anything that now he was just actively seeking out pain. He wanted to remember why it was he had left. It had been an especially hard few weeks. Yesterday he'd called in sick to work and stood outside the building where he was supposed to get the paperwork to file for divorce for 4 hours. He'd watched people go in and out and remembered the same day that he and Louis had gone to get their marriage paperwork. It had been before things had fallen apart. It had been before their mothers and stepdads and sisters had convinced them to have a wedding. They'd been happy and there was something dark in his stomach as he stared at the building, wondering if what he was feeling was the reason they'd chosen to use the same office to file for a marriage license and the petition for divorce. 

That dark feeling in his stomach was also the reason that, finally after watching a few happy couples walk in grinning and walk out grinning even wider for hours, he'd left without going in. Because he and Louis had been just like them. 

He wasn't ready to let that go just yet. 

Now, he was sitting in Gemma's living room with the album from their wedding on his lap. As he flipped through the photos, he desperately tried to jog the memory of some kind of feeling in himself. He'd been numb for too long. He was sick of this limbo. He wanted to either be okay or to fall to pieces. At least then, he'd have some sort of clue about what he was supposed to do. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder then, just as he flipped to the photo of their first kiss. He looked up to meet Niall's sad eyes. Harry hadn't even heard him come in. Slowly, Niall sat on the floor next to him, putting his arm around Harry's shoulder. His voice came quietly. 

"Do you miss him?"

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat. He hadn't said it out loud yet. 

"Everyday," he paused for a long moment as Niall tightened his grip on his shoulders, "but I think the worst part is that I missed him more when we were together.”

…

It had been fourteen weeks since he’d packed his suitcase and it was while he was folding his laundry and rearranging it in said suitcase that he realized that maybe it was time to let go a little. Gemma had cleared out the wardrobe in the room he was staying in sometime during the first month he’d been there. There had been something too final about the idea of using it, though. There had been a really large part of Harry that had been holding onto some sort of hope that Louis was going to reach out. He wasn’t sure what he might have done, had he been right to hold onto that hope. He wasn’t sure if he would have pushed back or if he would have dove head-first into the familiarity. 

That was all moot-point now, though, because it had been months. It had been months of silence, and even though Harry hadn’t yet been brave enough to start filling out the papers, maybe it was time for him to admit that there wasn’t really a real way to go back to what they had been. That things had gone beyond the point of repair and that he and Louis were probably going to be broken forever. 

And Louis didn’t want to fix it. He’d given no indication of it beyond the phone call on Harry’s birthday and the flowers. 

Now, still packing into his suitcases was bordering on pathetic and it was time for Harry to start admitting to himself that it was time to rebuild. That it was time to create a life for himself that bared no image of the life they’d had together. It was easiest that way. 

There was something decidedly final about hanging his shirts up that made new parts of Harry break. Instead of letting it take him over, though, he rode the wave. He road the wave all the way to Lou’s salon. She beamed at him and pulled him into a tight hug, leading him inside. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surely not expecting his answer. 

Harry’s hair had become a part of him. He’d been growing it for years, and everyone in his life had become attached to it. The name Harry had become synonymous with the long flowing locks, the buns, the curls that reached passed his shoulders. 

And the thing was, Harry had always loved his hair. He probably loved it almost as much as Louis had. 

And that was the problem. He could never quite love himself as much as Louis had. He needed to be different. He needed to be another person, completely separate from the one that Louis had loved so well. He needed to be someone new, someone that Louis couldn’t love better than he could. 

He marched forward with purpose, plunking himself down in Lou’s chair. She caught his eye in the mirror as he pulled his hair out from the elastic he’d been using. There was something sad in her eyes. 

“You know,” she started, voice soft, “Tom and I broke up for a whole year once. It was a really hard time for me, things just never seemed to get better. Everyone kept telling me that one day it was going to happen, that one day I’d be okay,” she rested her hands on his shoulders, maintaining eye contact in the mirror, “and one day, they were right. One day it stopped being so hard to get up in the morning. I stopped remembering all his dumb jokes and I got used to sleeping without him snoring next to me. It did get to be okay and then I got to decide if it was the kind of ‘okay’ i wanted to live with for the rest of my life.”

Harry knew what she was doing. Everyone hated this. They all hated the person Harry was without Louis and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he didn’t get to keep the person who made him shine brighter. It wasn’t fair that he was so lack-lustre without him. 

“I want you to cut it off,” he said, not willing to address any of the things that she’d mentioned. 

“Harry, I don’t think—”

“Cut it off,”

…

Somehow, by some miracle, winter had given way to spring and Harry could taste the hint of summer in the breeze. If he were anyone else in the world, he would probably have been looking forward to the prospect of freedom. He’d be off work, now, and he’d have plenty of time to himself. That was really the problem, though, because as Louis’ name continued to get buried in his text list by people he’d never imagined would come before him, and while Harry learned how to live with the sickness in his stomach every time he wanted to tell Louis something he’d found funny, he’d imagined that it would start to get better. He'd imagined that things would start to look brighter and that he’d find things he was looking forward to, but summer brought with it something that he didn’t want to keep being reminded of. 

It brought with it memories of promises.

It brought the familiar itch. The muscle memory of a life with Louis, of summer after summer of being free together. The first year they were together, they’d backpacked through parts of europe and the last summer they’d been together, they’d by-passed tradition completely. They couldn’t afford to travel with the pressure of the wedding looming, and deciding to skip out on that probably been the final nail in the coffin. They’d both had the itch, burning beneath their skin, but they’d ignored it, favouring slicing at each other in passive aggressive ways that went against their very nature. Neither of them had ever felt something that they didn’t immediately tell the other. That was supposed to be part of finding your soulmate, wasn't it? That there was nothing that you didn’t want to share with them—good or bad. That had always been such a huge bonus for Harry. That had been one of the best things about having Louis. He had such a tendency to hold things in and to try to be better for everyone else, but Louis had always seen through it. Harry had wanted it that way. He’d always wanted to be honest with him, so share every tiny feeling that crossed his mind. 

But in the end, Harry hadn’t shared anything. He’d stayed up at night crying alone, hiding every feeling he could from Louis and he’d thought that meant something. He’d thought it meant that they’d changed. 

But maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe it was Harry who had changed. Maybe he’d been too wrapped up in everyone else’s opinions and he’d forgotten how to share things with Louis…

If Harry had learned anything through the past few months, it was that mourning a relationship was an endless cycle. Some days he woke up so mad that the only thing he wanted to do was to call up Louis and demand an answer as to why he’d just went to work that morning Harry had said he was leaving. Why hadn’t he even fought? Louis had loved him. That was something that Harry had never had to question because he’d felt it. He’d felt it from that first morning they’d woken up together and how the first thing Louis had wanted to do was call his mum. It had counted for something. 

A lot of days were just guilt, because Harry had left. He’d just fucking left and how dare he be mad that Louis hadn’t fought when he’d just given up like none of their life had mattered. 

Other days were just marked with sadness. They were long nights spent alone in the largest double bed known to man-kind. Sadness in jokes he remembered that only Louis would understand. Sadness in the way that he had to go back to drinking green tea after eight years of drinking the tea Louis made, because he couldn’t ever make it quite the same. Sadness when he folded his laundry and didn’t have to consciously sort it into two different piles because he wasn’t washing for two any more. Sadness when he found the bookmark that Louis had given him on their first anniversary. The bookmark that read “what we find in a soulmate is not something wild to tame, but something wild to run with.”

Most surprisingly of all, though, there were days where it did almost start to feel okay. It wasn’t that he didn’t think of Louis, that he didn’t miss him completely, but rather, it was days where he felt like he could breathe without the help of his friends. Days where it felt like being okay wasn’t the most foreign idea in the world. He felt like maybe there could be a place in the world where he could exist without Louis. It was almost approaching that place that Lou had mentioned to him. That place where he would have to decide if it was the type of ‘okay’ that he wanted to live with for the rest of his life. 

Harry was alone, Gemma was out for dinner (probably a date—she never seemed to have a shortage of those) and he was doing the washing up before she got home when his phone started to ring. He pulled the rubber gloves off his hands and stared down at the same that was lit up on his phone. His heart jumped into his throat, because even after this many months, he wasn’t quite sure that he was ready for this phone call. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to face the wreckage all over again, to lose the people he lost all over again. Or worse, to have those people he lost—those people he mourned along with Louis—lash out at him. He wasn’t sure why on earth she’d picked this moment, but Harry couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t let her go to voicemail and let the message take up space in his inbox until he was ready to force Gemma to delete it. He felt sick to his stomach as he accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Jay?”

“Harry,” her voice was so familiar, yet so broken. 

She was still the same person he’d lost when he’d lost Louis, but she was sadder, too. Louis and his mum had always been inordinately close. They shared everything, especially in the couple of years before he’d met Harry when Jay and his dad had been going through their divorce and he’d helped with the girls and started university online. Harry had Jay had always been close, they’d had so much in common. Jay and Dan had met just a couple of months before he and Louis had and the four of them had all fallen in love together. Harry had watched Louis glow with his mother’s happiness and they’d all been so overjoyed when the twins had come along. 

Harry loved Jay, and losing her and Dan and the twins and the girls? It had been soul crushing because next to losing Louis, it was the worst thing he could have ever imagined. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry’s mind immediately jumped to all kinds of conclusions as to why his estranged husband’s mother was calling him so late on a random Wednesday. 

“I missed you,” she said, voice soft, “and I just wanted to know how you are. Where are you staying?”

Her voice was so broken and so innocent that Harry couldn’t even think twice about being anything less than honest with her. 

“I’m—I’m okay,” he started, “I’ve been staying with Gemma, at least until the school year is out,” at least the words made him sound like he had some semblance of a plan for his future. 

“I just want you to know that I’m sorry,” Jay’s voice shook with the words, like she was on the verge of tears. Why would she be crying? What did she have to be sorry about? Harry was the one who had left her son high and dry. 

Harry didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to apologize, too, for not being everything that Louis needed like he’d promised. He’d stood in front of their family and friends and vowed that he’d always take care of Louis, but at the first sign of trouble, he’d stuck his tail between his legs and ran away. He’d broken so much more than just himself and Louis, and he felt that now in the way that Jay spoke. She’d trusted Harry. He’d betrayed that. 

Harry was crying, now, he didn’t even know why. The tears fell down his face hot and fast and how in the fuck had things gotten here? How had they fallen apart so badly that he couldn’t fix it?

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Jay started, and Harry was pretty sure she was crying, too, “I should have known the both of you better,”

“No, its…”

“Harry, please,” she said, “I knew you didn’t want it. I knew you didn’t want that big wedding and I could see it from the minute we sprung the idea on you, but I ignored it because I wanted it. That wasn’t fair of me or your mother. I already got my fairytale wedding, I already got to see my boys in their suits and have them stand by me while I wore a pretty dress,” her voice cracked a tiny bit as she let out a small sob, “and I was selfish. I wanted you to live my fairy-tale and I didn’t even think about the fact that yours is supposed to be different. You weren’t supposed to be what everyone else wanted you to be. You were already perfect.”

Harry was just straight bawling now, because these were words that he hadn’t known he was meant to hear. He didn’t know if they made things better or worse, because it was all done now. The wedding had already happened, the marriage had already crumbled and looking back on it and placing blame didn’t change the fact that Louis wasn’t there. That he hadn’t been there in months. 

“He comes home a lot, you know,” her voice was soft and it was the first time that someone had directly spoken about Louis in front of him in a long while. It almost made him feel better to have someone acknowledge that they were still a part of the same world, that he hadn’t just made the whole thing up in some fevered dream. “I keep waiting for the day when he comes home and I just know he’s better—but it isn’t happening, Harry. He keeps not being better and I just hate to know that maybe you’re feeling the same way but you’re both too afraid to say it,”

“He never asked me to stay, you know?” Harry didn’t know why he was talking about this. Why it felt so good to put his pain out into the world, why it felt so significant that neither of them were ‘okay’. 

“You never told him if you could be convinced,”

“I didn’t know,” Harry admitted softly, “I was just so tired of breaking.”

...

Months and months of planning had culminated into this very day. This day where Harry was standing in front of a full length mirror with Niall holding his suit jacket. His hair was hanging free, tickling the tops of his shoulders, neatly styled by Lou. Somewhere, across the hotel, Louis was standing in a similar room with Zayn and Liam, probably staring at himself, too. 

Maybe he was wondering the same things that Harry was. Outside of the sanctuary of this hotel room, which he’d locked the deadbolt to the second he’d walked in, was a circus that Harry didn’t feel much a part of. None of it had been for them. They’d planned this whole wedding—forfeited one of their precious summer trips to finance it—for everyone else. He wasn’t really sure how Louis felt about the whole thing. They’d stopped talking about anything other than plans months ago. There was a deep ache in his chest as he stared at his reflection. He knew what the ache was. He was missing Louis—missing him while he was moments away from marrying him. It was kind of a funny thing because Harry hadn’t known that he could miss someone that had never actually left him. 

He thought back to how the whole thing had snow-balled. How they’d announced their plan to elope and how every single family member had called in the days to follow, begging them not to. Lottie, Fizzy, Gemma, Harry’s dad—they’d all begged to be there. Even the people they least expected. Louis rarely spoke to his dad, especially since the divorce, but the day after they’d announced their plan, he’d called. He’d given some schpeil about how Louis was his only son, about how he wanted them to have a proper wedding, not sneak off like cowards with something to hide. There was a large part of both of them that felt like they owed it to Louis’ dad more than anyone because it was the first time he was more than willing to be in the same room as Jay in nearly a decade. 

They owed it to him. They owed it to their Nan’s. Their cousins they rarely spoke to, but always remembered the fond memories of growing up with them. They owed it to their sisters. To Lou, to Niall and Zayn and Liam. To all the people who said that they couldn’t last because they’d been too young. 

It felt kind of like they owed their wedding to everyone but each other. 

And Harry was just happy to get it over with. To have the spotlight turned of and to get back to being themselves. He missed Louis. 

He missed him, and it was still 43 minutes until he was due to take his cue and meet Louis at the alter. 

“I need to talk to Louis,” he said, spinning around, just as Niall was reaching out his jacket to him. 

“Uh, I’m no expert at weddings, but I don’t think that’s how its supposed to work,” said Niall. 

Harry snatched the jacket from Niall and draped it over his arm, heading for the door. “I’m going to find Louis,” he said. 

Harry had traipsed down the hallway with purpose. He couldn’t go into this missing him. He couldn't start things off with such an empty feeling in his chest. Louis was on the other side of the hotel and Harry’s feet were barely carrying him fast enough. When he got to Louis’ room he knocked aggressively, his palms sweating. It was Liam that opened the door. 

“Harry,” he said, a strange expression on his face, “everything alright?”

“I need to talk to Louis,” he said. 

All he could think about was all the people who were supposed to be standing out here in, he glanced down at his watch, 38 minutes. They had tried to keep the list small, but it kept growing and growing and he couldn’t recall a single one of them giving permission to that fact. Doris and Lux were the flower girls, they were supposed to walk down the aisle with Ernest who was carrying the rings. Fine. Harry was okay with that. Neither he or Louis had planned to have a wedding party at all, so when Lottie had suggested that they just combine their wedding party, it had seemed logical. At that point it was only Lou, Niall, Zayn and Liam. That seemed reasonable. 

But nothing about their wedding had stayed reasonable, and it had been daunting the previous night at the rehearsal, watching as Lou stood next to Niall, who stood next to Gemma who stood next to Fizzy who stood next to Lottie who stood next to Zayn who stood next to Daisy who stood next to Fizzy who stood next to Liam. So much for a small wedding…

So much for it just being about them. 

Harry had hated the whole thing. Had hated it the night that their mums had chastised them when they had mentioned taking a small holiday in Italy in July. ‘There’s so much more planning to do, it just doesn’t make sense to be selfish and take a trip like that’. 

Yeah, Harry and Louis had been anything but selfish. They’d given up everything so that the people they loved could have the wedding of their dreams. 

Harry was done with that, though. He was done waiting for things to be about them again. Fuck tradition, he was marrying a man for christ sake. There was no tradition left here. He didn’t care if Louis saw him. In the wedding he’d dreamed of, he would have been the one tying Louis’ tie and they would have walked into the tiny chapel in Niagara Falls together. The least the rest of the world could do was look away while he tried to steal a few quiet moments with Louis before the chaos broke them completely. 

Louis must have heard him from across the room, because before Liam managed to come up with an answer, he was at the door. Thankfully, he still looked like Louis. His hair was slightly rumpled and his tie wasn’t done up and his eyes had bags under them. He clearly hadn’t slept much more than Harry had the previous night. It had been the first night in their entire relationship that they’d slept without each other, and for the sake of what? Another stupid tradition that his mum had insisted was good luck. Harry had no idea, though, looking at Louis in that moment that there was no amount of good luck that could have fixed where they were heading. 

“Hey,” Louis’ voice was soft.

“I needed to see you,” Harry said, reaching out and claiming one of Louis’ hands. 

“Come in,” Louis said, tugging his hand. He looked over to Zayn and Liam, “give us a minute, would you?” 

Liam and Zayn slipped out quietly, just as Harry wrapped his arms around Louis, pressing his face against Louis’ smooth neck. He breathed deeply, trying to remind himself that this whole thing was going to be worth it once he and Louis got to go back to being themselves. Once they gave everyone else what they wanted, they could work on the things they needed. They weren’t doomed. No way. Harry wasn’t entertaining any such thought. The new stoic look that dominated Louis’ expressions these days? The way Louis touched him like he didn’t really mean it, like he was a stranger? The strange fights they had from opposite ends of the bed? It was stress. It was going to leave and things would go back to the perfect way they had always been. 

Part of Harry, the hopeless romantic type that wanted to live in a slightly more romantic world, wanted to suggest that they run away. That they leave everyone else at the alter. That they say ‘fuck it’ to the things they didn’t want and they drive the Heathrow and get on the first flight anywhere and get married on their terms. 

He didn’t suggest it though, because he didn’t know if Louis would say yes. 

That scared him the most of all. He used to be so certain of anything involving Louis. He used to be convinced that he knew every last thing that happened inside of his partner’s head, but it wasn’t like that anymore. He couldn’t ever be sure what Louis was thinking and it terrified him. 

“You okay, H?” Louis asked softly, wrapping his arms around Harry, tugging him closer, “you’re not getting cold feet on me, are you?”

Harry wished that he hadn’t heard hope in the question. 

Harry pulled back from him then, staring down into his flawlessly beautiful eyes. There were a million things he wanted to say and a million and one that he knew he couldn’t, so he said the most important thing. The thing he needed to know before he could stand in front of every person they’d basically ever met and promise himself to Louis for the rest of his life. 

“Are we going to be okay?”

Louis hesitated for only one quick beat, “what do you mean?” was what he chose to say, and maybe Harry should have given up right there. But he didn’t. 

“You and me,” he inhaled deeply, trying not to be distracted by the familiar scent of Louis’ aftershave, “are we going to be okay when this is all over?”

Louis reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand, “I didn’t want this,” his words were heavy, but there was a sincerity burning in his eyes that almost made the words hurt less, “all I ever wanted was you, H,” he put his hands on either side of Harry’s head and pulled him down, pressing their foreheads together, “today isn’t about us. Today is for them,” Harry wasn’t quite sure why these words were settling the butterflies in his stomach, because they were essentially the opposite words that anyone would have ever wanted to hear from their fiancé. “What I can tell you, though,” Louis’ words felt warm as they settled into Harry’s chest, “is that I very much have always wanted to be married to you. I don’t think there’s a thing in the world that would change that. You’re it, Harry. You’ve always been it for me. I want whatever you want,”

Since missing opportunities was a trend with them since the day they’d announced their engagement, Harry missed yet another opportunity to tell Louis it wasn’t what he wanted. For maybe the millionth time since he felt things start to crumble, he could have pulled back and demanded that they stop. That they run. 

Louis would have listened. 

He saw it now. 

But, he’d just nodded. He’d fucking nodded, essentially telling Louis he understood what he was saying, but that despite everything they’d been through together, everyone else was still more important. He’d nodded and pretended that he didn’t see the disappointment sparkle in Louis eyes. Then he’d tied Louis’ tie and headed back to his room. 

…

Harry was sitting on the edge of the cushion on Gemma’s couch, staring down at his phone. He hadn’t meant to talk to Jay for an hour and a half, but somehow after things turned dark and the silence had lingered, he’d whispered into the phone and asked ‘how’s Dan?’. The conversation had evolved and there were enough other people to talk about that they never had to steer things back to her eldest son. It had been nice in a strange way to laugh while Jay talked about Doris getting into her makeup and the boys that Phoebe and Daisy had brought home recently. There had been a million things that he’d been wondering for months, and she’d so willingly told him. She’d so willingly made it feel like he was still a part of the family. Maybe in some way he was. He shared the same last name as five out of her seven children. That had to count for something. 

There was yet another thing he hadn’t thought much about. His name—what his students called him. Maybe he’d have to let that go, too, because it wasn’t his really. It was Louis’ and Louis wasn’t his anymore. 

He heard the front door open just as the first tear trickled down his cheek. Gemma was home. He’d have to pull himself together. The dirty dishes were still sitting in the sink where he’d left them. He’d have to deal with that. There was always so many things to deal with and it was getting daunting. 

Gemma appeared in the doorway. Her face fell as soon as she laid eyes on him. She crossed the room quickly and sat next to him. She draped an arm around his back, pulling him to her. He let himself collapse into it. He wrapped his arms around her, tears coming harder. 

“Life just keeps happening,” he said from behind a sob, “it just keeps coming and coming and people just keep living and changing and there’s so much that I missed and so much I don’t know and so many things he hasn’t told me. So many things I haven’t gotten to tell him and I thought it would get easier.”

“Shh,” Gemma said, rocking him slowly against her, “Harry, baby, I’m here. You can tell me things.”

“Phoebe has a boyfriend,” he sniffed once, “and Dan golfs now and Ernie learned how to swim but Doris was too scared.”

Gemma didn’t say anything, she just pulled him closer. She rubbed his back softly while he cried. 

“I get it now, I think,” Harry said, “how hard this must be for you. I didn’t know how much I missed Jay, how much you must miss—him. You’re all just casualties and I didn’t mean to hurt you all,”

“Harry,” Gemma’s voice was suddenly serious, “I think I owe you an apology,”

Harry pulled back then, wiping the tears from his eyes, “for what?”

“For the part I played in wrecking you and Louis,”

Harry shook his head, no, Gemma wasn’t to blame. No one else was to blame but he and Louis. They should have been stronger. They should have fought harder. If they were meant to be, there would have been no way that anything could have come between them. It couldn’t be Gemma’s fault, because it was his. It was his fault for being a coward. It was Louis’ for never ever fighting for the things he wanted. For never telling Harry what he wanted. 

“We broke it, though,” said Gemma, “all of us. You did the whole thing because you wanted to make us happy. Because you thought you owed it to us, but that wasn’t right,” she reached up and wiped away one of her tears, “it was just that I’d never seen anything like the two of you. I didn’t know people could be in love like that. I think we all saw what you had and we all wanted a piece of it, but it wasn’t ours to take. You and Louis loved each other so much and I just wanted the world to see that—but you only wanted Louis to see it. That didn’t make sense to me, but what do I know Harry? It was always all about Louis for you and it worked. Mum, me, his sisters, his mum, we shouldn’t have done that. We should’t have made your day about us,”

...

It had been 18 weeks. He wasn't sure what was supposed to have happened in that time. In the grand scheme of things, in looking back on how many years they'd been together, it seemed like no time. Just a little more than four months living in this weird place. In actual practice, though? It had been an agonizing and exhausting bunch of weeks, punctuated by that fact that he had no one to get through it with. Sure, Gemma, Niall and Lou had been pretty fantastic at being there for him, but it wasn't the same. None of them were Louis. None of them were his partner. For years Louis he stood next to him through every hurdle, but now he was trying to adjust to a life where Louis wouldn't be there in the long term. 

The worst part of it all, though, had to be that he didn't even know if that was what he wanted. 

He still had nights like this one, where even after laughing with Gemma for hours late into the night, he felt melancholy looking back at the whole thing. He felt a burning sort of guilt for not being able to share every single joke with Louis and he wasn't sure what to do with that. He wasn't sure what any of meant. It was nearly three in the bloody morning and the furthest thing from his mind was sleep. He wished he had some semblance of an idea of what he wanted. 

It was a terrible place to be. It was awful to know that what he wanted, what he had honestly and truly, always wanted, was in the past. Having Louis the way he had wasn't an option anymore. They didn't exist the way they once had. His only two options now were to go back to the place he'd fought so hard to leave, or to let it all go. To let go of the entire life they'd had together. To let all the dreams they'd had die. To try and picture his life without Louis next to him and neither of those options particularly appealed to him. 

He was lost somewhere in his thoughts about what he'd even want in a future that didn't include Louis when he felt his phone vibrate from under his pillow. At first he was pretty certain it had to be a text. Niall was out at the pub and that generally lead to a few texts about how lonely his dick was. But it continued to vibrate incessantly. So, Niall was drunk dialling now? He didn't know if he wanted to answer it, but he slid his hand under the pillow, taking the phone into his hand. To say he suddenly had butterflies in his stomach would have been the understatement of the century. He was definitely going to be sick. 

Louis' name flashed across the screen. On a Friday night at three in the damn morning. It didn't make sense, though rationally Harry knew that this day was bound to come eventually. Eventually he knew they had to speak, but since his birthday it had been radio silence and he had to decide now in a split second if this was something he wanted to deal with. 

But he was bound by having a decently good heart--although it was more than a little broken. But Louis had walked a mile and the least that Harry could have done was meet him the last few steps by answering the damn call. 

He pressed the phone to his ear, trying to remember how people were supposed to answer phone calls. What was he supposed to say to Louis, to his husband, to the person that he thought he'd grow old with? 

He settled for a soft "Hey" and it would have to be good enough because Harry didn't actually have a clue. 

Louis cleared his throat once and Harry could hear him breathing, could remember exactly what those breaths felt like when they were pressed to the back of his neck. He hated that it was so easy to remember Louis but next to impossible to exist without him. He hated that he wasn't better at this. 

"I didn't expect you to answer," Louis' voice was so much softer, so much more defeated that Harry ever remembered hearing it. "Had my speech all ready for your voicemail and here you are,"

"Here I am," confirmed Harry because there was nothing else to say. 

Louis sighed once, but didn't say anything else. Harry didn't want this to be like the last time they had spoken where silence had dominated the conversation because he missed Louis. He missed his voice and there was something comforting about hearing it again. He'd have to analyze that later. 

"Do you want me to say my voicemail greeting so you can feel like you're leaving a message? Would that be easier?”

Louis laughed, it was meek and nothing like Harry remembered it being but it did something to Harry's chest. He felt it ache in a not entirely unpleasant sort of way. 

"Nah," Louis said "'m okay. Don't know if anything could make it easier," it was a very rare display of feelings that Harry hadn't expected. Louis paused for a moment, clearing his throat again, "I guess, I thought I was calling for one reason, but I'm kind of calling for more than that, I guess."

Harry could feel Louis shifting uncomfortably on the other side of the phone and he tried to imagine where he was sitting. If he was sitting in his spot on their sofa or if he now hated it as much as Harry did when he thought about Louis' proposal. Would sitting on the couch be too hard for him now? Was he curled up in their bed? Would that even feel like a safe place for him? Harry kind of hated that he'd trapped Louis in a place of so many happy memories. He felt guilty because how was anyone supposed to move on while being stuck in so much of the past?

"Where are you?" He found himself asking against his better judgement. 

Louis only paused briefly, "at me mum's," he was quiet again, "I've been staying here on the weekends mostly. I don't really like being at the flat and all,"

Harry didn't really know what to do with that information. He hadn’t expected Louis to be so honest. Hell, part of him hadn’t expected Louis to miss him at all. 

"What about you, where are you staying?" He could tell that Louis didn't want to ask the question, but the curiosity got the better of him. 

"Still Gemma's," Harry said softly, like just admitting it made him aware that he was not really doing much better than Louis. 

"You haven't gotten your own place?" Another question that he didn't really want to ask. 

"Haven't looked," Harry admitted against his better judgement. 

“Oh,” Louis said, his voice sounding distracted. He heard shuffling. It sounded like Louis was settling under his sheets, maybe pulling them up around his neck. He had told Harry when they first met that no matter how warm it was outside, he liked to have his covers wrapped all the way up to his neck. It made him feel safe. It had been years since Louis had abided by that rule. Harry was suddenly very curious about whether Louis had adopted this habit again.

This time, Harry didn’t rush to fill the silence that took over. He didn’t mind just listening to Louis breathe. To imagine him swaddled in his blankets at his mum’s house, making phone calls at three in the morning, hoping to get sent to voicemail, but still managing to laugh at Harry’s awkward jokes. He had imagined that he would mind a lot more than he actually did that Louis had called him. He had imagined that there was no way he would ever be ready for it, but now that it was happening it felt very necessary, even if it had been pretty uneventful so far. It was so easy to get swept up in the notion that their entire life together had been nothing more than a dream, that Louis was in fact not real, because he felt so far away. Harry hated the distance, maybe now more than he’d hated it when they’d been living together and he wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe that counted for something. Maybe that answered the question that everyone kept asking him. 

They’d built their life up so high and so beautiful that Harry had never considered that something as small as a hairline fracture in the foundation could actually bring their entire life crumbling, but it had happened. He and Louis had fallen from their pedestal and the fall had been exhausting. It had been a long way to the bottom, but as he listened to Louis breathing on the other end, whispering things so honestly, he felt like maybe they’d finally hit bottom. Maybe, after falling from grace separately, they had reached the same bottom. It had been a long way down, but maybe Harry was finally done falling. 

When Louis finally broke the silence it was when Harry realized that it was possible to miss his voice mere minutes after he’d just heard it. He didn’t understand how he’d gone more than four months without hearing it. 

"My mum said she called" Louis paused, "I'm sorry. I told her not to do it again."

"No, no," Harry rushed, "it's okay. I love your mum. It was nice. It was hard...but it was nice to hear from her,”

“Yeah?” Louis seemed unsure, “she always liked you best, anyway. Not surprised she’d call.”

Louis' small joke felt like a big one. Harry felt a smile break through despite how thoroughly awful it felt to be in this situation. He was talking to his husband, the the love of his life and he hadn't even seen him in more than four months. He still wasn't quite sure how it had been that long. He didn't know if it was something to be proud of that he'd successfully lived his life without Louis or if it was just going to be a life sentence of misery. Was it going to get better? Was Harry going to have a life without Louis? Would there be someone else one day that could give him the things that Louis had stopped giving to him? He wished he had some sort of answer. He wished he knew whether that was something he even wanted. Living without Louis hadn't really given him much perspective at all. He had no idea how to divide his life into parts. The parts before Louis, the parts with Louis and now, the parts without him. Would he ever stop needing Louis?

"So, um," said Louis, uncharacteristically nervous, "the reason I called,"

"Right," said Harry, welcoming any sort of distraction from the spiral his thoughts were sending him into. 

"I, uh, thought it was kind of time that we talked about the adult stuff," Harry could hear how hard it was for Louis to say these things. He wished he was there in Doncaster so he could squeeze Louis' hand the way he always had when he needed encouragement. "I wanted to give you space and I'm not trying to rush you, but I just want to make sure you're okay," Louis' words sounded like pain and Harry could feel tears burning behind his eyes. Louis didn't want to talk about this. He was doing it for Harry. Harry's chest hurt. 

"I mean, like, the flat, the cars, the insurance all those stupid things no one wants to have to talk about," 

"Yeah, we should talk about that," agreed Harry, albeit reluctantly. He didn't want to talk about anything that meant he was accepting that they weren't together anymore. The pain felt too fresh. 

They both fell into silence then and Harry racked his brain for something to say, but there was too much. Far too much that was going unsaid between them and he didn't even know where to start. 

Apparently Louis did, though. 

"I miss you, H," Harry felt the pain within the words and it made his chest ache even deeper, "I just--its been 4 months of takeaway and I love McDonald's as much as the next person but by this point it's just too much. Falling asleep alone is shit, too and I know I'm not supposed to say those things, but do you know how shit it is to be in that flat?”

“Louis…” Harry’s voice was hesitant because he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even know what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to hand out hope to Louis if he couldn’t make a promise. One thing he was absolutely certain of was that he wouldn’t be going back to what they’d been. He couldn’t do that to himself. He couldn’t do that to Louis.

“No,” said Louis, and it really sounded like he was crying. Harry didn’t want to address that, though. He didn’t want to think that he was the reason for the tears, “No, H, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,”

“Shh,” said Harry, pulling the blankets tighter around himself as he buried his face against his pillow. He had his phone clutched so tightly in his hand he could feel his fingers going numb, “don’t be sorry,”

“But I am,” ever the master at arguing, Louis pushed, even when it was more than obvious that he was crying and that this whole thing was hurting him, maybe even more than it was hurting Harry. 

Harry tried to process what it had been like to leave that morning. When Louis had kissed him, had crushed their mouths together, trying to distract Harry from the problem. When Harry had said the words and Louis had said nothing. He’d just gotten ready for work like it had been any normal day, like Harry wasn’t even there. Maybe for Louis, Harry had been gone a long time. Maybe Harry had checked out before he’d even consciously decided to and Louis had just adjusted to his distance by way of ignoring it. Harry wasn’t sure, but he was sure that this hurt. Talking to Louis, hearing Louis break. None of what had happened since he walked out the door of their flat had been worth it. It wasn’t that he lacked the hope that things could still get better, but it was a fact that so far, nothing had been better. 

Louis took a minute before he decided to speak again. This time, Harry could still hear the jagged way his voice floated through the phone, but it didn’t sound like he was crying anymore. 

“Did you get the papers…the, uh, the divorce papers?” Oh, god, Harry was not going to live though this phone call. Louis was utterly gutted, trying to be the bigger one for both of them, trying to ask the things he didn’t want to ask because he knew Harry didn’t know how to ask them either.

“No,” Harry’s voice cracked on the word. He kind of wanted to tell Louis about the day he’d sat outside of the building for an entire four hours, but he also kind of wanted to abort the entire conversation. It was too much, too heavy for that hour of the day. 

Louis let out a long sigh, “I thought that maybe it would be easier to figure everything out if we maybe just took a day, went out for tea or something, you know? We could talk about things, about what you want,”

“I have no idea what I want,”

Louis sounded devastated as he said the next words, “no idea?”

It took Harry a moment of shaking his head back and forth to realize that Louis couldn’t see him. There was a very large part of him that wished Louis could see him. There was also a very large part of him that wished he could see Louis. 

Harry let the silence drip into his veins slowly, memorizing the small sounds of Louis pulling the phone back as he sniffled. He was always trying to protect Harry. He had always been like that. Slowly, Harry started to shift in the bed, trying to get comfortable in a place where Louis wasn’t there with him—but maybe (finally?) he wasn’t as far away. He folded his knees against his chest, wrapping his free arm around them as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. His chest felt less empty with Louis kind of there. He felt like maybe, for the first time in months, he might actually be able to fall asleep with some semblance of peace. He breathed in a deep breath through his nose, finally feeling like the air reached his lungs, like he wasn’t drowning under the pressure of his loss. 

“Lou?” he practically whispered. 

“Hazza,”

“I miss you,” Harry felt like an animal rolling over and exposing his belly. Maybe if he had said those words a year ago when the foundation had started to crack, Louis could have had a chance to fix things. He probably would have, too, if it was for Harry. He’d always been so willing to do anything for Harry. “Tell me about Doncaster, what did I miss?”

…

When Harry opened his eyes, there was light flooding through the spaces around the curtains. He felt warm and for once he woke up without a sense of emptiness in his chest. Maybe he'd finally woken up on the other side of his pain. Maybe he could finally start to hope that it was possible. There was a brief moment when he forgot exactly how he'd fallen asleep, but it all rushed back to him when he grabbed his phone to check the time. 

On the screen was his call with Louis. The call that was still connected. 4 hours and 46 minutes of call time and they had most certainly topped their record for dead air, but this time they had also topped their record for words said. Harry couldn't even attempt to count how many words had passed between them before he'd fallen asleep listening to Louis talk about his sisters and how he was trying to teach Phoebe and Daisy how to drive. After saying some of the hardest words either of them had said in months, somehow they had fallen into a peaceful place. Softly filling each other in on all the things they had missed in each other's lives. It hadn't felt bad to hear about the small changes in Louis' life, instead it felt like he was finally getting answers to the questions he'd been wondering since the day he'd left. 

Quickly, he reached out and picked up his phone and pressed it to his ear, "Louis?" He kept his voice quiet. 

"You fell asleep," Louis' voice trickled down the line, heavy and full of sleep. He must have just woken up, too. 

"You kept the call on all night?" Harry asked softly. 

"Didn't want to hang up," Louis' voice was raspy with sleep in a way that was painfully familiar to Harry. He'd been so used to waking up next to him for so long that having him on the phone both made things better and worse. It wasn't the same. Harry was happy that he wasn't so far away anymore, but he wished he was really there. 

"Good thing it's not long distance," Harry attempted a small joke. 

"Mm," Louis said, a large yawn escaping from him. Harry could imagine it. The way Louis was in the early hours of the morning, even years of waking up for his adult job hadn't changed who he really was. Louis was never really awake until noon. He was a nighthawk by nature and being crushed into the mould of "attorney" hadn't changed that, not really. When Louis yawned, he always stretched his legs as far as he could, pointing his toes toward the end of the bed. He'd usually giggle a little bit while stretching and tickle Harry's ankles with the tips of his toes. The memory of the whole thing stung him and left a deep ache in his chest. 

Maybe that's why Louis next words tasted like redemption. 

"Can I see you today?" 

Harry didn't have to think twice about his answer. He had all the evidence he needed in the way that his heart's pace quickened at the suggestion. After all this time, he was finally ready to see Louis. He was more than ready, really. It was what he needed. He needed to know. He needed to see Louis and then maybe he'd know. 

"Please," there was just a hint of desperation in Harry's voice and he tried not to be embarrassed by it. It was Louis. Louis had already seen every part of him that there was to see. He might as well be transparent now. He might as well banish the thought of protecting himself. There was no point to it if they were ever going to get a real chance to decide their next steps. 

Harry could tell Louis was awake now, out of the bed because his breathing had changed. "Gonna shower and then drive back," Louis said and Harry heard him flip on the fan in the bathroom. He was eager. Jumping at Harry's admission that he wanted to see him. 

"Kay," Harry's voice was soft. 

"Please don't change your mind," Louis said softly. 

"I won't," Harry's voice was soft as he imagined Louis standing in the tiny bathroom at his mother's house, the light was always tinged blue from the wallpaper and Louis skin always lost its tanned glow and appeared much ashier. Never in his life had Harry imagined that he could know someone as well as he knew Louis. There wasn't a detail about him that he hadn't committed to memory. 

He didn't know if he wanted to do that again. He didn't know if he wanted to commit someone else to memory in the way he'd done with Louis because if the past four months had taught him anything it was that he never wanted to go through this again. He didn't want to ever lose the love of his life again. The pain would never be worth it. 

"Okay," Louis' voice sounded unsure and it made Harry's lungs burn a bit because Louis was never unsure. Especially when it came to Harry. 

"Call me when you're in Manchester?" Harry wanted to make Louis okay. He wanted to reassure him that he wasn't going to change his mind. 

"'Kay," Harry heard Louis turn on the water. He wasn't wasting a second. 

There was another beat of silence, neither of them knowing how to end the call. Harry hugged one of his pillows closer to his chest, speaking softly.

"Lou?"

"Yeah?"

"Hurry, please."

"Right," Louis voice was still heavy with trepidation and Harry knew that the very last thing in the world he wanted to do was hang up the phone. It had to happen, though, if he was going to make it back to Manchester to see Harry, "gonna shower now. I'll call you when I'm back," he paused a minute, "and Harry?"

Nerves were swirling in the pit of Harry's stomach, "yes?"

"Please answer. Please don't change your mind. We really should talk,"

"I know," Harry paused, "and I won't. I want to see you,"

"Me too," Louis said, "I want to see me, too. I haven't been myself."

Harry felt a shiver down his spine. He knew that feeling well. He hadn't been himself either. Part of him was proud of Louis for openly admitting it. Maybe seeing him would work out nicely. Maybe it wasn't going to blow up on them, because it seemed like Louis was making a very big effort to be honest. Harry appreciated that.

"'M gonna hang up now. Let you shower,"

...

 Harry was a horrible liar, which quite often translated into being awful at hiding anything from anyone. He'd barely walked into the kitchen and hadn't even had a chance to fill the kettle before he heard Gemma talking  

"What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? Got plans?" 

Harry didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know how to explain it. How to explain that for the first time in months he'd finally had a taste of what being 'okay' might feel like. He didn't know how to tell her that his plan was to see Louis so they could talk about their next steps. He didn't know how to explain to her that despite the subjects they'd have to broach, he was more excited for this meeting than he'd been for anything since before things started to fall apart. 

He'd probably gone too long without answering because Gemma addressed him again. 

"I heard you on the phone last night... and this morning," she looked up from buttering her crumpet to meet his eyes, "was it Louis?"

He could try to lie, but it wasn't worth it. Instead, he nodded once. 

Gemma's eyes softened, "I'm glad," she started, "you going to see him?"

Harry inhaled deeply and nodded slowly. 

Gemma bit her lip, but didn't break eye contact with Harry. Finally she breathed deeply, "I had dinner with him a few weeks back," she said it like she was admitting a secret she'd held onto for too long, "he didn't say it, but he's not okay. He probably won't say it to you either because all he really wants is for you to be okay..." she trailed off, looking back down at her plate, "but he's not."

...

Harry gripped his steering wheel tightly once he put his car in park. He was in the parking lot of some cafe close to Gemma's. he'd never been there before, but for some reason, when Louis had asked, this had been the first place he had suggested. He wanted to meet somewhere that wasn't going to flood him with memories or sway him in any direction. He didn't know what he wanted, but he did know that he didn't want to get swept up into the past and make a decision based on that. The past was too drastic to base a decision on. The past had both been good to him and betrayed him and it wouldn't be fair to Louis for him to base his choices on either of those experiences. 

Despite the nerves swirling in the pit of his stomach, Harry wanted this. Louis did, too, because the drive had barely taken him a full hour. Clearly traffic laws hadn't made a difference in his haste to get back to Harry and that had to count for something. 

Harry tried to steady his breathing as he switched off his car and stared at the door to the cafe. The feeling in his stomach was more than a little bit overwhelming. He felt so sick that he wasn't sure he could walk through the door, let alone manage to swallow a single sip of the tea he knew would already be waiting for him on the table when he walked in. Louis would already be there, he was willing to bet anything on that. He probably hadn't even stopped at their flat--HIS flat--to drop off his things. 

Harry stepped out of the car, feeling slightly unbalanced as he put his hand on the door. He was intensely aware that this was something he absolutely had to do--something that he wanted to do, but it didn't ease the tension in his stomach. Especially not when the second he was through the door he saw Louis sitting at a table at the very back of the room, looking directly at him. There were two mugs on the table, steam still escaping from them and Harry was frozen in place. The lady behind the counter said some sort of greeting to him, but it didn't really register. 

After all this time, there was Louis. Somehow, he looked smaller, his shoulders slumped slightly as he rose from his chair. He seemed skinnier, too, like all the fast food he'd complained about hadn't really entered his body at all. His hair was shorter, too, his fringe not nearly as long as Harry remembered. The sides of his hair were clipped close to his scalp and Harry instantly missed the hair that had always been there. The hair that he had buried his fingers in time and time again. He missed Louis--his Louis and a part of him didn't want to move forward for fear that this Louis was nothing like his. 

He did move forward, though, because it looked like Louis was ready to crawl out of his skin. He hadn't come all this way just to glance at the love of his life and then just run away like the coward he'd been for months. That wasn't how this was supposed to go, so he ran a hand through his own much shorter hair and forced one foot in front of the other. He stomach lurched with each step and he could feel the sweat building up on his hands. It was amazing to him that this was able to feel like the most necessary thing in the world while also feeling like the most terrifying. 

When he reached the table it all happened very fast. He wasn't sure if he had initiated it, or if Louis had but he was in his arms. They were hugging and it almost felt like Louis was sobbing, but he couldn't feel any tears where Louis' face was pressed against his neck. He squeezed tighter, pressing himself closer to Louis--to the place that had been his home for the better part of a decade. He wanted to say a million things, but none of them came to mind and all he could focus on was the solid and familiar scent of Louis shampoo. A lot had changed. Louis looked different, seemed so different, but he still felt the same. He still held Harry the same and Harry kind of wanted to sob at that realization. He wanted all of this to be done, because it was overwhelming. It was simple for him to get wrapped up in this feeling, in the reminders of who Louis had always been. It was even easier still to forget that things weren't the same and that he didn't get to just fall back into it. The whole disaster of their wedding hadn't been made up and Harry didn't just get to pretend that the past 18 months hadn't happened and that hurt the most. 

Because now he knew exactly what he wanted. What he wanted was them. He wanted to be them again and maybe that was impossible and how could he ever live knowing that he'd had a hand in ruining them?

Louis tried to pull back, probably trying not to push Harry too far, but Harry held him tighter, not ready to let go of this precious moment so soon. He needed Louis and he didn't know if that was allowed. There was no rule book for this sort of thing, so he decided it was okay. He inhaled deeply, trying to immerse himself in Louis for as long as he could before the cruel reminders of reality set in and ruined the whole idea. Just as he closed his eyes and tried to allow himself to get lost in the past, he heard Louis voice. 

"Your hair," was all he said, pulling back to look at Harry. He looked absolutely devastated. He'd always been a fan of Harry's long hair, always carefully running a brush through it after showers. Harry could remember the first time Lou had braided it, that night he'd sat on the edge of the bed while Louis softly kissed his neck and undid his braids, pausing time and time again to remind Harry how beautiful he was. 

Harry had been well loved once. There had never been a question and maybe that was the part that made it all hurt the most. Now it always seemed to be a question of whether or not it could ever really be like that again and Harry hated it. 

They weren't hugging anymore. Instead, Harry was staring down at Louis, his frame slumped as he looked up at Harry, trying to pretend he was okay. Harry saw through it, though, and he could feel his heart breaking in a million new ways because Gemma was right. Louis wasn't okay and contrary to what everyone, including Louis, would tell him, it was his fault. Louis had always burned bright and happy and steady and strong like the sun--but Harry had switched him off. He'd taken away the heat, the light, the fire from Louis. He'd broken the sun and now the entire earth felt frosty because of it. Maybe it wasn't reversible. That was the worst thought that Harry had because he couldn't imagine that this ice age could last forever. That Louis might never glow again. 

For some reason it felt very important to Harry to just talk. To talk about anything and everything and to distract Louis from his brokenness. Harry ran an uneasy hand through his fringe. "You don't like it?" He asked softly, because talking about his emotional haircut seemed better than staring at his husband like they were strangers. He was so sick of being strangers. 

A million emotions flickered in Louis' eyes and not one of them looked good. Harry could taste the pain and he wanted to do everything in his power to make it leave. 

Louis spoke to the floor, "its..." he exhaled slowly, "like you're another person," the admission came with a knife to Harry's gut and it looked like Louis had a knife in his, too, "it's beautiful--you're still so beautiful but you're not mine anymore..."

As Louis stared at the ground, trying to process the change he saw in Harry, Harry studied him. Physically, Harry wasn't the only one who'd changed and Harry didn't know how to approach that. As he looked at Louis, really looked at him standing right in front of him, he saw how much could change in just four agonizingly long months. Where Louis hair was clipped shorter in the sides, he noticed a handful of light strands. Grey hairs that hadn't been there before he left. There were enough of them that there was no way they'd gone unnoticed by the people around Louis. Harry felt a burning sort of jealousy at that realization because he should have been the first to notice it happen. He should have been the one teasing Louis about it over tea and in the shower while he scrubbed Louis' hair between blowjobs. It should have been him that saw it first and Harry felt irrationally jealous at the world for seeing Louis before him. 

Eventually, once Louis' words had settled into both of them enough to make Harry a bit crazy, Louis gestured to the table. Was he a different person? He didn't feel different. He felt more like he'd been faking his way through life for the past few months. He felt like he'd been desperately trying to be another person but he was still the same. He felt the same, but a huge piece of himself was missing, and he figured that it had a lot to do with the boy who was sitting at the table across from him. 

As he tried to settle into his seat he wrapped his hands around the mug in front of him and tried to think of anything to say to Louis. He couldn't decide on a single thing because what he wanted either conflicted or simply didn't exist anymore. He wanted to be happy, to be properly in love again but he couldn't do that if things were going to stay the way they had been since their engagement. Harry might very well be in love with Louis for the rest of his life, but he still couldn't settle for that. He still couldn't pretend that the way they'd been could ever be enough. 

"First of all," Louis voice cut through the tension in Harry's spine and he finally remembered to breathe, "I owe you an apology and I know that no apology could be enough, but I'm doing it anyway," Louis spoke directly into his mug, "the day you left..." Harry could see the pain Louis was in as he said the words, like just admitting that it had happened caused him agony Harry couldn't begin to understand--except he could, because he felt it, too. "I should have said something. I should have told you it wasn't what I wanted, but I think I was in shock, I kept waking up those first few days and forgetting you were gone and I think that might be the worst pain anyone has ever felt,"

"Lou," Harry started, but Louis shook his head, cutting him off.

"No," he said, "that was selfish of me to say, because I just want you to be okay and if this is what you want? I can't blame you, Hazza, we fell apart."

Something agonizing burned in Harry's chest. Hearing Louis say the words hurt worse than the knowledge that they were real, that he was right. 

"So," Louis said, voice softly, "let's figure it out, okay? Let's make this okay for you,"

For you. 

For you.

Harry could read between the lines. He could hear what Louis wasn't saying. 

Louis wasn't worried about being okay, because he didn't think he would be. The only thing worse for him than not being okay was the idea that Harry wouldn't be either. Still, even after all the space that Harry had put between them, Louis was prioritizing him. He was trying to take care of Harry before himself and something about that realization set Harry's heart on fire. 

Still, though, he couldn't think of a single word to say, so he listened. The same as he had the previous night. 

"I want you to find a place," liar, Louis was a liar because Harry could see it in his eyes that he didn't want that. Harry didn't even know if he wanted that, "I think it's important and I want to help," Louis reached up to run his fingers through his fringe that wasn't nearly as long as he was used to, he almost seemed surprised to find less hair there, "so, if it's a money thing, I can help."

Harry felt the muscle in his chest slowly breaking down piece by piece. It was crumbling inside of him as he heard Louis say all the words that he'd undoubtedly rehearsed based on what he thought Harry wanted. But Harry didn't know. 

"I know that a teaching salary makes things harder for you than it is for me," Louis' voice was soft and kind and it reminded Harry of this first time he'd gotten a cold when they were together. The soothing way Louis spoke to him and the canned soup he'd heated up in his dorm room microwave had been all the cure he'd needed to recover happily,  he didn't think he'd be so lucky this time, "you have rights here, too, Harry. You don't have to do it on your own," he paused, "and your car payments? You should take the money from our savings and pay it off,"

Before he decided it was something he even felt, a tear rolled down Harry's cheek. He hated that he was there. He hated that he had to have this conversation and he hated that Louis had it all figured out. Harry could barely even breathe without him and yet Louis had planned all of this? It was too much. 

"Hey," Louis said, "hey, hey, H, it's okay," his hand shot out instinctually and as Harry looked up to meet his eyes he dropped his hand as if he'd only just realized what he'd been about to do. After every single thing they'd been through, Louis didn't think it was okay to touch Harry's hand? He thought Harry wouldn't want that? Everything hurt. Harry could feel his heart slowly falling apart inside of him. It was all too much. 

"What happened to us?" Harry wiped fruitlessly at the tears falling from his eyes. It didn't help anything. They just kept falling and Harry wished he was about a million places other than right there. 

This time, Harry could practically see the 'fuck it' in Louis expression and the second that he decided to touch Harry. Harry had just wiped a fresh batch of tears from his eyes when Louis grasped onto his hand. He knew his hand was soaked with tears, but Louis didn't seem to mind. He squeezed it tightly, finally really looking into Harry's eyes. There was more pain there than Harry ever remembered seeing and it looked like Louis wanted to cry, too, but he was trying to keep it together to protect Harry. Anger burned in Harry's gut because why the fuck wouldn't he just emote? Why was he trying to find Harry a place and pay off his car instead of just admitting they'd fucked up. Instead of just telling Harry this wasn't what he wanted? Why did he always have to read between the lines with Louis? Was that where all of their problems had started? Was it because Louis was always too willing to give Harry whatever he wanted even when it conflicted with what he wanted? Why couldn't Louis just be honest? Why couldn't he just draw a fucking line so Harry knew what to expect. Why did he always have to stay quiet about the things he actually wanted from Harry? Maybe if he'd have given Harry a single inkling that he hadn't wanted the wedding he wouldn't have gotten in the way of everything else.

"Victims of circumstance?" Louis tried to say the words lightly, tried to make them a joke. Louis had always been awful at taking anything seriously. Even now, after months apart Harry was starting realize that they weren't even done yet. There was still millions of ways left for them to break and Louis wasn't helping. 

"Fuck circumstance, Louis," Harry ripped his hand back and glared into his tea, "you never said a fucking word, you still haven't said a fucking word,"

"You didn't either," Louis argued without any real bite, "you just woke up one day and left. You didn't tell me what you wanted--I got the picture, okay? It wasn't me. It isn't me, or whatever," Harry heard the way Louis' voice cracked on the words, "I'm trying here, okay? I'm trying to be the adult. I'm trying to deal with the stupid stuff so you don't have to. Give me some fucking credit here, you weren't going to do it."

"Because it hurts," Harry heard his voice crack on he words.

"Yeah, hurts for me, too, H. You broke my heart,”

Harry got quickly to his feet. This wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t what he’d expected. there were a lot of left over feelings between them, but he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to argue over who was hurt the most. It didn’t matter because both of them had had their lives torn up. Neither of them knew what to do next, but Harry knew he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to have his car paid off and then say his last goodbyes to his husband while signing papers that meant he’d have to change his name back. that meant that the girls wouldn’t be his sisters anymore. That meant he’d wake up without Louis for the rest of his life. 

“I have to go,” Harry said as he turned away from the table and left before Louis could say a word. 

…

Harry had just barely closed his bedroom door when he heard Gemma knock. He crawled slowly up to the top of the bed and peeled back the covers. Gemma didn’t wait for an invite before she opened the door. She took one look at him all balled up under the covers and crawled in next to him, wrapping her arms around him. More useless tears started to pour from Harry’s eyes as she held him tightly. He didn’t even know what the point of crying even was at this point. There was clearly nothing he could do. Worst of all though, there was clearly nothing Louis wanted to do and that made his organs burn inside of him. Spontaneous Human Combustion was a thing (he’d seen a documentary on it once) and it was going to happen to him. He was going to ignite and go down in flames because there was no way that any person could live in this much pain for the the rest of their life. There was just no way. 

“What did he say?” Gemma’s voice was kind and careful. 

“Asked if I got the papers. Said I should find a place, pay off my car,” he swallowed a sob that threatened to escape, “he didn’t want to talk about us.”

Gemma rubbed Harry’s back in slow circles, “do you think that maybe he just said what he thought you wanted to hear?”

“He doesn’t have a clue what I want to hear,” argued Harry.

“Maybe you should tell him,”

Harry hated this. He hated all of it. Every single second that had passed since the day he’d left had been agony. What he’d wanted seemed irrelevant because he wasn’t getting it. He wasn’t happy without Louis. He hadn’t allowed himself to think it yet, but fuck it because he wasn’t. Nothing that had happened in the past few months had been worth anything. The only thing he’d wanted was to be free of the ghost that had haunted him since they started to plan their wedding. He wanted Louis to be the person he’d fallen in love with, and he didn’t know if there was ever going to be a day that Louis wasn’t what he wanted. 

That was maybe the most terrifying thing he could think of, because the person he’d just faced hadn’t been anything like the person Harry remembered. He’d been sad and defeated and there was no fight left in him. Surprisingly, though, it didn’t make Harry feel guilty. It made him angry. Instead of trying to fight for Harry he’d just rolled over and given in. Louis had accepted his unhappiness instead of trying to change it. Harry knew Louis well, and even before he’d said the words, he could feel that he’d broken Louis’ heart—but Louis had broken his, too. While Harry might have done it in one fowl swoop, Louis had done it little by little by retreading and not fighting and Harry wasn’t sure which was worse. 

But Louis could fix it—he could still fix it, because if seeing Louis had yielded no other results, it had most certainly solidified that Harry still loved him. 

Instead of feeling eye-opening, though, the knowledge felt crushing. Harry was doomed to be in love with a person he couldn’t have, and it didn’t give him clarity. It felt more like a life sentence and he didn’t know if he or Louis could make it feel any better. 

“Can I have a minute?” he said to Gemma. 

She kissed his temple softly, “do you still love him?” her words came softly. 

“Don’t know if I’ll ever stop,” he admitted softly. 

Gemma sighed softly as she sat up, “and you really can’t work it out?”

“Gems,” Harry’s heart hurt at the words. He didn’t want to say it out loud. 

“It’s just,” she started, “I don’t understand it. I don’t know how it happened and I know it isn’t my place, but neither of you are happy. It can’t hurt to try,”

How wrong she was. Of course it could hurt to try. It would hurt even more to put in the effort where Louis wasn’t willing. It would hurt even more to throw his emotions into the void and just have them sucked in, an empty echo resonating inside of him at the realization that they would never be returned. 

The anger he felt was only a touch irrational. 

“Please, Gems, I need space,” he begged. 

The second she closed his bedroom door he pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear. Louis answered on the first ring. His voice sounded choked and raspy. 

“Harry?”

“Why didn’t you fight for me? Why haven’t you ever fought for me?” Harry needed answers. There was so much about this whole thing that would maybe never sit right with him, but he needed to at least try. 

“Harry, I…”

“You asked me to love you forever, told me you wanted whatever I wanted and then you let me leave. Why did you pretend for so long? When did you decide I wasn’t worth it? Why didn’t you fight for me?”

“I didn’t know I could,” Louis' voice cut in, rushed like he hadn’t expected Harry to throw his feelings at him, “you just left. You didn’t let me try,”

“You had months,” Harry snapped, “we were falling apart for months and you just stood back and watched it burn and ran off to work and pretended you were okay for the rest of the world. You didn’t even pretend for me. You didn’t even have the decency to pretend I was still what you wanted,”

“With all due respect, Harry, you don’t have a fucking clue what I wanted.”

“Well, you could have told me it wasn’t me,”

“Oh, would you shut up for ten seconds?” Louis’ voice held no bite to it, in fact Harry could almost see the fond smile on his lips as he said the words. Louis didn’t like to be upstaged. If he was about to say something, he wasn’t going to let anyone, including Harry, steal his spotlight, “what I wanted, what I’ve always wanted, was you, Harry. What I wanted was to go to Niagara Falls. What I wanted was for you to tell everyone else to fuck off and run away with me. I’m not a people-pleaser, Harry. That’s never who I’ve been and I never gave a fuck about the guilt cards our mums tried to play, but you did and I am by nature a you pleaser. If you wanted a big wedding, what was I supposed to do? I wanted to be married to you and I wound up just being along for the ride and I’m not the only one who changed, okay? You never even asked me how my day was when I got home from work, you just shoved centre pieces in my face and asked me who should sit next to my great-aunt Florence, who by the way I hadn’t even seen since I started uni. It was all so fucked, Harry. The whole thing. It wasn’t about us. It wasn’t even really about you, was it? You were just trying to make everyone else happy and you forgot about me,”

“I didn’t forget about you, Louis. I still haven’t forgotten about you, and that’s the problem isn’t it? I can’t forget about you, but you’ve got the whole thing figured out. I can’t even write my fucking last name on a piece of paper without seeing you there and feeling like I can’t breathe, but of course you have it all fucking figured out. How big of you,”

“You have no idea what I’ve been going through. How dare you pretend?”

Harry couldn’t think of a single thing to say. There were a million things going through his mind, but it was a total cluster-fuck. He couldn’t make sense of any of it, and at the very core all he could feel was his heart breaking even more. 

“All I was trying to do was give you what you wanted. I knew you weren’t going to ask for it. I knew you weren’t going to plan the next steps, so I tried to do it for you. Don’t make me the bad guy here, Harry. Yeah, I fucked up because if I ever made you think for a second that I wanted this? Then I’m a fucking idiot. I thought we were just going through a rough patch—I didn’t think it was over,” Louis inhaled deeply, “I still don’t want to think that,”

Harry was silent. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. He didn’t know what he should want to say. He didn’t want it to be over, either, but he wasn’t going to settle. He wasn’t going back to the life he’d left. 

“What do you want?” he whispered softly. 

“Same thing I’ve always wanted,” Louis’ words danced around what he wanted to say, because for the first time in the history of their life together there was a very real sense of rejection hanging in the air. 

Harry let the silence linger for too long. He knew it and he could feel Louis regret his words. He could feel Louis breaking further. 

Harry didn't know what to do with Louis' words because they unleashed a sense of hope in the pit of his stomach. They made him aware of all the things that had been missing for the past few months. He'd been so sure when this whole thing began that he'd been making the right decision for them both. He'd thought that if it was so impossible for them to be happy together that at the very least he owed it to Louis to give him the chance to be happy some other way. 

Even thinking about Louis being happy with someone else made his skin burn with jealousy. It wasn't something he could even let himself think about and it was yet another thing that made him believe he was getting a lot closer to the answer. 

"I should go," Louis' voice was defeated and Harry still hadn't responded to his confession. 

"Wait a minute?" Harry's voice shook with the words. 

"What?" Louis' voice bordered on dismissive and he was clearly hurt at Harry's lack of response. 

"I don't know what I want," Harry felt like a broken record, "I'm lost, Lou. I don't know what else to tell you. I haven't got a clue what I'm supposed to be doing."

"Well that's bloody helpful," Louis was lashing out. He always did when he was hurt. 

"You made me so mad today,"

"I can't imagine," Louis' sarcasm sliced into Harry and for some reason the only thing he could do was laugh. Louis had always been sarcastic and rough around the edges. Harry had always taken it in stride, though, seeing him more like a kitten with anger issues. Louis had never scared him, especially not now when every bad thing possible had already happened and they were both still standing. 

"When you called last night I hadn't realized it was what I needed. I mean, I knew I missed you, but I thought it would make it hurt more. And then I saw you and... fuck I did miss you," 

Harry knew the second Louis' anger left him. He exhaled dramatically, "and then I pissed you off,"

"Yeah, you did because I just wanted to see you. It's been so long, you know? And I am still trying to figure it out. You left a giant hole in me, okay? I haven't figured out how to live with that yet and you waltzed in with all these plans and it pissed me off because I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought you'd at least want to try but you're just ready to admit defeat and I don't think there was any way I could have prepared myself for that," 

"It's not about admitting defeat, Harry, you've gotta know that. I legitimately have no idea how this happened and I was just trying to make sense of it all,"

"By getting me a flat? How do you even know if I want that? What if it's not what I want?"

"Is it?" There was more life in Louis' voice as he said the words. 

" I don't know, Louis, I just know I don't want what we were. I don't want to go back to that, but it would be nice if you'd let me decide?"

"What if you make the wrong choice?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll let me know,"

"I do love to be right,"

Harry smiled and shoved his face into the pillow. There were so many things he'd missed about Louis and it was astounding to him that even after all the bad things that had happened between them, they were still shit at arguing. Louis was a professional arguer but he'd never been any good at arguing with Harry. Their life together has mostly been about mutual satisfaction. All Harry had ever wanted was to make Louis happy and it had always happened so effortlessly. There had never been a real need to fight over anything because Louis only ever wanted the same things. There had been many times when Louis had brought home his sass from work, but Harry could always coax a laugh out of him and his mood generally changed pretty easily. Kindred spirits were the words his mother had used. Soulmates. That was the word that almost everyone else had used. Whatever they were, it felt a bit like they'd lost themselves, but the more he talked to Louis, the more he unburied those parts. 

"Listen, Lou," he said, riding the high of Louis' small joke, "do you think we could figure it out together? What you want matters, too."

"At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I know what I want already," Harry could sense the vulnerability behind Louis' words, "but I suppose I could help you out, since I've really missed arguing with you so much."

"We never argued," protested Harry. 

"Nah, but you're really doing a bang-up job now. Must have all kinds of resentment you've been dying to unleashed on me,"

"I didn't miss your sarcasm,"

"If you didn't miss that, you didn't miss me at all then, did you?"

Harry was still smiling, and it kind of felt like he might not be able to stop, "I'm making Sunday roast tomorrow," the words fell out of his mouth easily and without any real thought, "come over,"

"Are you sure you want that?" Louis' voice was uncertain. Harry didn't like that. 

"Honestly?" 

"Don't spare me any details,"

"It's the first thing I've been sure of in a long time,"

He could hear the smile in Louis' voice when he responded, and it was the good smile. The kind that crinkled his eyes up the way Harry liked, "I'll bring the wine."

...

Harry was putting the finishing touches on the kale salad when he heard the knock on the door. His heart started to beat a little bit faster and Lux dropped the spoon she was using to stir the salad and jumped off the chair that Harry had set up in front of the worktop for her. 

"I'll get it!" She called, dashing in the general direction of the door. 

Harry wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing and pulled it over his head, tossing it on the counter. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, suddenly feeling self conscious about his outfit choice. Maybe he should have tried harder. Or maybe he shouldn't have tried at all since it was just Sunday dinner with Lux and he did it every week anyway. 

"Did i miss something?" Gemma asked from her pace at the table, "are we expecting someone?"

Before Harry could answer the question he head Lux scream at the top of her lungs, "LOUIS!"

Gemma's eyes nearly bugged out of her head and she got to her feet, "you invited Louis to dinner?" She whispered loudly at him, "no wonder you've been acting so weird! You're nervous, aren't you?" Her grin stretched from ear to ear, "is this like a first date? Should I take the kid to a chippy and leave you two alone?"

"No," hissed Harry, "no, no, no. Stay where you are," he insisted. 

Gemma laughed again, "I can't fucking believe it, I'm sitting in on your first date with your husband,"

Harry groaned, "it's not a first date," he insisted.

"Bullshit it's not. You dressed proper nice and you're nervous, too,"

"This isn't a first date," he whispered, knowing Louis was going to appear in the doorway at any second, "you know how you get a stomach full of nerves on a first date? Well this isn't like that. This is so much worse, okay? This isn't butterflies, it's more like violent nausea. And if things don't go well I have a whole hell of a lot more to lose than just not getting a kiss, okay? First date nerves have nothing on what I'm going through right now."

It was true, too, because as Harry thought back to the first real date he and Louis had, there was no comparison. With Louis it hadn't been about nerves at all. After waking up that first morning in Louis' dorm and receiving the best blow bob he'd ever had, Louis had taken him on a proper date. They'd gone to a nice restaurant, stopped at the cinema and snogged on a park bench until his lips were blue. Hell, Louis had even gotten him flowers. Harry could still remember the hum of electricity over his skin as he begged Niall to help him find an outfit. He'd been nervous, yes, but he'd had a lot less to lose on that first date. 

This didn't feel anything like that. This time it felt like everything was riding on this foolish dinner. It felt like there was pressure all around him to be able to make a decision. Nothing with Louis in the past two days felt like it had the first go around and he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or if it was the universe telling him it was over. That they'd changed. 

He hoped he'd be sure soon. 

Right on cue, Louis appeared in the threshold, Lux in his arms. She beamed happily over at Harry, who's stomach had fallen nearly completely through the floor. Louis looked beautiful. There was no other word to describe it. He was wearing a simple pair of black skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt, but Harry knew Louis enough to know that he had tried. The best part of all, though had to be that his skin looked warmer and healthier. His eyes held way less sadness than they had the previous day and they even had a sparkle to them. Harry wasn't sure if that had to do with him or if it had to do with the precious little blonde girl in his arms. Maybe it was a bit of both.

"Thank you for my surprise, Harry!" Lux called over to him. 

Harry met Louis' eyes then and smiled a small smile, his nerves not going anywhere. He wasn't sure what the protocol was. He didn't know if he was supposed to hug Louis, or if that was even allowed. He really needed to establish some ground rules with Louis. 

Gemma broke the tension first, plucking Lux out of Louis' arms and handing her over to Harry. Harry laid a small kiss on Lux's forehead and watched as Gemma pulled Louis in for a tight hug. 

"It's about fucking time," she said, "thought you were never going to shape up, you tosser,"

Louis laughed a small laugh, and tugged on a bit of Gemma's hair, "wasn't my idea," he told her, "Hazza invited me,"

"Well, the kid's not the only one who's happily surprised."

Something fluttered in Harry's stomach as he listened to the soft way Louis mentioned his nickname. Things felt a little bit more okay than they had in quite a long time. Gemma took a step back from their hug, her smile still set in place. 

"I'll set the table," she announced, brushing past Harry to get to the silverware. 

Harry met Louis' eyes then, and he noticed as Louis tugged at the base of his shirt and looked down at his socked feet, wiggling his toes a bit that he seemed kind of nervous, too. Harry didn't have to think about his next move. He crossed the tiny room quickly, Lux still in his arms, chattering happily about their visitor, and pulled Louis into a hug. Lux happily draped one arm around louis' neck and kissed each of their cheeks. 

"We should probably have a sleep over at yours and Harry's place," she said to Louis, "it's been a long time since you've had me over and I think Harry misses sleeping there,"

Thank god for children breaking the tension. Lux was right, too and Harry kind of hoped that Louis believed her. 

"You and Harry have school tomorrow, but maybe another night?" Louis said, as Harry placed her back on the ground. 

Lux dramatically rolled her eyes, "okay, but it's summer vacation soon. You won't have excuses then,"

Louis smiled fondly as she headed toward Gemma, "she's always been a proper adult," he said softly.

"It's only getting worse now," Harry noted softly. 

They were silent for a minute watching each other. Harry didn't really know what to say next. He wanted to tell Louis that this was the most excited he'd been for Sunday dinner in months, but he didn't want to be too much. He settled for something far less intense. 

"You shaved," he said. 

"And on a Sunday no less," 

Generally Louis saw shaving as the devil's work. He'd shave Friday morning before work and go the rest of the weekend without it. Before starting at the firm, Louis had only ever shaved once a week, and he'd sworn up and down that the very worst part about having a grown up job was the fact that he had to shave five days a week. 

"You look nice," he said softly.

He saw Louis' lips twitch and he gave a small smile, his cheeks slightly pinker then they had been a moment before, "your hair's still weird, but you look nice, too."

Harry was definitely blushing now, too and that was different. 

...

As harry buzzed around the kitchen and pulled the roast out of the oven, Louis watched from the doorway. He hadn't quite gotten comfortable enough yet to sit down, despite Gemma telling him to at least 15 times. Finally, as Harry started to put things into trays and bowls, Louis spoke. 

"Do you need help with anything?" Harry felt a shiver run down his neck, because the voice hadn't come from across the room. Louis was standing very closely behind him. 

"I think I'll try to spare Gemma's kitchen. I don't think we can afford to torch the place," joked Harry and he heard the smallest laugh from Louis and it made his stomach flip, "since when do you ever offer to help, anyway?"

"Since I can't expect you to just do everything anymore. I've learned to appreciate how much effort it takes to not torch the kitchen,"

Harry smiled down into the bowl of carrots for a moment before turning to face Louis. He grabbed Louis' wrist without really thinking about it and gave it a small squeeze, "really, Lou, it's okay. Have a seat, it'll be ready soon," 

Harry meant to pull back right away once he'd said his piece, but he clung onto Louis' wrist for a little bit longer than strictly necessary. 

...

"I can't believe you made kale on a night you know I was coming over," said Louis playfully

"I helped make it!" Argued Lux, "and Harry says that kale is one of the most important food groups!"

"Kale is NOT its own food group," laughed Louis, "its shrubbery disguised as a vegetable and I've never fallen for it,"

Harry huffed out a small laugh, "it's not shrubbery--it's delicious and nutritious. And as a god parent, you ought to know better than to talk her out of liking a vegetable,"

"I'm doing no such thing," said Louis as he spooned kale onto Lux's plate, "I'm just noting that some people grow kale in their flower pots as a decoration. It's kind of mean of you to ruin some sweet old lady's flower arrangement,"

"I missed this," said Gemma, "it's been a lot of work being the only one around to tease Harry."

"Really nice, gems," Harry said while watching Lux reach across the table to spoon a generous portion of kale into Louis' plate. 

"Oi!" Louis exclaimed. 

Lux cackled loudly at his reaction, "eat up!" She said, "be a good influence,”

…

It happened somewhere between Louis finishing his second last mouthful of kale salad and Harry turning on the kettle to start tea. Something that Harry had picked up on pretty quickly was that things were happening of their own fruition. He wasn’t thinking about what he was doing, and it didn’t feel like Louis was, either. When he’d seen Louis the previous day, it had been like he’d had the life stamped out of him. He’d seemed so faint and faded and he lacked any of the spark that Harry had fallen in love with. Harry was pretty certain that it was his fault—that all of the things he’d done wrong had sucked the life out of Louis and the guilt he felt for that was consuming. 

Today, though, as he looked to his left, he saw Louis laughing again. Saw that it was possible for him to laugh again and his cheeks held a pink flush to them like they always did when he drank red wine. Gemma had a spark, too. She kept flashing Harry happy smiles whenever Louis made a joke. And Louis made a lot of jokes, like he was making up for lost time. Harry felt like he was on a spit, being roasted by the two people who’d always been the best at it. Lux laughed loudly at Louis’ dramatic re-enactment of how he imagined Harry’s haircut went.

Everything felt normal. Like no time had passed between them, and once again, Harry forgot to think about his actions. 

“You probably owe Lou a pair of scissors,” Louis said, turning to catch Harry’s eye. Louis’ eyes were so fantastically blue and his smile was so real and so big that Harry lost his breath for a minute, “poor thing’s shears are probably dull and useless now. You avoided getting your hair cut for years,”

Louis took a quick sip of his wine before he put his hand back onto his lap. Harry didn’t question whatever part of him made the decision. He didn’t want to analyze it. He slid his left hand onto Louis’ thigh and captured Louis’ hand in his. 

“You utter brat,” he said laughing at Louis’ joke. 

Louis’ laughter faltered for a second and he glanced over at Harry and Harry felt pretty certain that he’d misread everything. That he’d crossed a line when Louis was just trying to be friendly, just trying to make their whole breakup easier on them both. 

Quickly though, Louis’ face softened and he abandoned the conversation that he was about to start with Gemma and smiled softly, moving to wind his fingers between Harry’s. Harry’s skin felt like it was comprised entirely of gunpowder and that Louis was a lit match. He could feel tiny fires spreading across his entire body and tried his best not to give it away, especially not to Gemma. He wasn’t ready to explain himself. He wasn’t even sure what to say to himself about what was happening so he’d be hard-pressed to explain it to his demanding sister. 

“It’s totally not my place to make the suggestion,” Gemma said, catching Louis’ eye and trying her best not to look at Harry directly, “but we’ve been doing this every Sunday. We have the little one over for dinner and it would be kind of nice if you came again next week maybe.”

Louis looked over to Harry, the apprehension obvious in his eyes, “I would like that, but it’s kind of up to Harry, I think,”

In all the years that he’d known Louis, the most unsure Harry had ever seen Louis had been in the last two days. Something about what happened between them had put a damper on Louis’ confidence. Harry didn’t like it, but he also didn’t like that Louis was leaving all the decisions up to him. He needed a clue. He needed Louis is give a little so that he could figure out if they still fit. 

“Lux asked for lasagna next week,” said Harry softly, “you’re more than welcome to join,”

Gemma slapped her hands together excitedly and Louis squeezed Harry’s hand from under the table. 

“I’d love that,” he said, “provided you don’t do that thing you do where you try to sneak vegetables in between the pasta,”

“Spinach is the perfect addition to lasagna, Louis. Forgive me for not trusting your food opinions when you didn’t even know what a whisk was until you were twenty years old,”

“Vegetables have no place in pasta, Harold.”

“Oh I did miss your bickering,” Gemma said happily.

“It’s not bickering, Gems. Louis is just a know-it-all brat with the same aversion to vegetables that most people get over when they’re seven,”

“Eat your kale,” said Lux, jabbing her fork toward the small pile of salad still left on Louis’ plate. 

“She’s a real hard-ass, innit?” he said smiling over to Harry and giving his hand a more confident squeeze. Harry’s stomach flipped approximately seven times before he was able to successfully return the smile. 

“You’re not supposed to say ‘ass’ in front of me, Louis,” scolded Lux, rolling her eyes, “hurry up and eat your kale. I want to play dress-up in Harry’s wardrobe,”

Harry ran his thumb softly over the back of Louis’ hand, “the child has spoken,” he said softly, “finish up while I start the tea,”

A very large part of Harry forgot that it wasn’t something he was allowed to do anymore when he got to his feet and nearly placed an affectionate kiss on Louis’ forehead. He was also very reluctant to let go of Louis’ hand, but he figured they both needed a moment.

…

The sun had already nearly set, and Harry knew that Louis ought to leave soon so they could both get to bed before they had to resume their version of normal life in the morning. A bigger part of Harry was just selfish enough to hope that Louis might stay a little bit longer. They were sitting on the step outside of Gemma’s. They’d been out there since Lou and Tom had come to get Lux and they hadn’t really said much. Just a few mumbled words from Louis about how much he’d liked the potatoes and how he was happy that Harry hadn’t reverted back to his ‘hippie green tea ways’ without Louis around to make a proper cuppa for him. Harry’s thigh was pressed flush against Louis' and he had his hand on his own thigh, palm facing up while Louis traced the lines on it, eyes focused somewhere on the horizon. 

“This is nice, you know?” Harry finally broke the silence that had been there for a long time. 

“Yeah?” Louis said, voice still uncertain. He was uncertain about just about everything, Harry noticed. Louis seemed to be treading lightly around everything. 

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed, “missed not having you around to complain about my kale salad. Think I was getting a big head not having someone take the piss out of my cooking every day,”

He saw a flicker of a smile on Louis’ lips as he kept his eyes focused on the descending sun. Louis was trying really hard not to be too much, not to take things past where Harry was comfortable. Harry didn’t know if he appreciated it, or if, when Louis finally left, he’d be angry and have to call him up to yell at him again. 

Louis stopped tracing Harry’s palm then and wound his fingers through Harry’s, “you should just know that before I met you I would have flipped on anyone trying to feed me that bloody salad. Take it as a compliment or a testament to how much I like you that I’ve been buying kale salads when I got takeaway since the day I stopped being mad that you left and decided to be sad instead,”

Harry wasn’t sure what part of what Louis had just said to address, “you were mad?”

“Livid,” Louis confirmed, not breaking his focus on the horizon, “think I was more mad at myself for not knowing we were at that point,”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry.

“Why are you apologizing?” Louis still wasn’t looking at him, but their hands were still wound together on Harry’s lap and his mind was in a million different directions. 

“I guess—I’m just sorry it had to happen like that. I’m sorry that I left,”

Louis finally glanced at him then, his eyes looked bluer than usual, his waterline harbouring tears that Harry didn’t know if either of them were ready for, “I think you had to,”

Harry spoke to his shoes, “yeah, but I could have spoken to you instead of just giving up,”

“I can be a pretty bad listener when I’m not in the mood,” Louis admitted softly, “I don’t blame you for not trying. I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that we could have problems,” he paused a minute, “did you really give up, though?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, and maybe it was a lie, because it didn’t feel like he’d given up. It felt like he was trying really hard to remember what it could be like to have Louis around. It felt like he was remembering pretty well, too. Louis made things come easily and he’d forgotten for the past four months that anything could come easily. 

It always did with Louis, though. 

“When you asked if we could meet yesterday I said to myself that I was going to let you take the lead because you seemed a whole lot more confused than I was. I knew what I wanted from the first night I met you, Harry. I knew you weren’t going to make me regret wasting a whole pack of cigarettes. I said to myself that when I saw you that I wasn’t going to say any of that, though, if you seemed happier. If you found your happiness without me, I wouldn’t stand in the way, but it seems like—”

“I’m not happier,” Harry confirmed. 

“Why?” Louis’ voice kind of broke on the word and Harry’s heart broke along with it. 

“It’s just—doesn’t it feel fucked up? After all these years we’re not in love? It doesn’t make sense. I can’t be happier because it doesn’t make any sense,”

“What would make sense?” Louis’ voice was quiet but Harry could almost taste the hope that was radiating from him.

“I thought we were going to decide together?” Harry squeezed Louis’ hand. 

“Okay,” said Louis, settling his eyes on the horizon that was nearly completely dark now. 

Without thinking, yet again, Harry leaned into Louis. He placed his head on Louis’ shoulder and breathed deeply through his nose. Louis was always warm, always inviting and then though he heard Louis’ breath hitch, it felt pretty natural to be there, sitting on the step with Louis watching the sunset and apologizing for all the damage they’d done to each other. 

“Harry?” Louis’ voice was calmer now, his arm snaking around Harry’s waist, pulling them that tiny bit closer. 

“Yeah?”

“Have you…” Louis voice trailed off and Harry could sense that he wanted to ask something that scared him. 

“Have I, what?”

“Have you, um, have you been seeing anyone?” Louis only wanted to hear one of the possible answers. Harry knew that. Thankfully, that was the only answer he could give. 

“Nah,” he said. 

“Why?”

Harry sighed, softening into Louis shoulder, getting more comfortable in this strange place they had created, “I didn’t want to be happy if it was with someone else,”

“You’re not just saying that, are you? Because I’m a big boy. I can handle the truth, even if you’re not saying what I want to hear. I don’t want you to do me any favours,”

“I’m not,” said Harry, “I’m not happy, and I wasn’t happy before, either and I don’t know how to be happy again,”

Louis turned very suddenly, bringing his other arm around Harry and crushing them together. He let out a small sob and Harry felt his heart break in a million new ways. He couldn’t deny that things hadn’t been good, not for a long time, but something about Louis being there for the last couple of days had made it better. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, “I’m sorry for everything I did wrong. I think I was shit at being a husband and I didn’t think that was possible since it was the only thing in the world I wanted,”

“What happened to us?” Harry had already asked the question so many times, but he still didn’t have an answer. Louis still didn’t have an answer. 

“I don’t know, Harry, but I hate it. I don’t know how we let the whole world come between us. That’s not how it was supposed to be. I thought I knew who you were. I thought you knew who I was, but the whole wedding came between us. You started to care about all of those things you told me you didn’t. When I didn’t start to care about them, too, you held it against me—just like I held it against you that I wasn’t enough. You resented me for all the reasons you used to love me,”

Louis was right. He was right about all of it and Harry was breaking over and over, because how was it any different now? Louis probably still resented him and as he thought back to the stoic way Louis had stared down at the invitations Harry had picked out, he was still pissed, too. He was mad that after all the years they’d shared a life together they weren’t able to find a single piece of common ground. 

“I feel like if people were taking bets on weddings, no one would have ever bet against us,” Louis said against Harry’s ear, “I sure wouldn’t have. I never thought we’d be the kind of couple that broke up,”

The words hurt Harry. They were salt in all the wounds that he’d been licking for months. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Harry said and he could tell that Louis was crying now. His speech had gotten the better of him and he’d finally broken. After all the times that he had sat back and watched Harry break while trying to hold himself together—to not show his weakness—Louis was breaking apart right there in Harry’s arms and Harry didn’t know if he could take it. 

“I’m sorry I made you think you had to,” Louis nails dug into Harry’s flesh through his t-shirt while Louis clung onto him for dear life.

…

Harry put his car into park and undid his seatbelt. He picked up both of the takeaway cups that were sitting in the cupholders of his car and took a deep breath. Once all of the children had left his classroom that afternoon, he’d practically ran to his car. Harry was feeling pretty brave since things seemed to be moving in a direction that he could get on board with as far as Louis was concerned. After Louis had cried in his arms the previous night, they’d somehow gotten back to normal and Louis had teased him about anything and everything until it was too late to sit out on the front step without freezing. They’d hugged and Louis had promised to call when he finished work the next day and Harry had tried not to blush at the idea of promises involving Louis. 

The thing was, nothing felt the same. There were landmines all around them and in the past couple of days, they’d definitely avoided a few, but they’d definitely detonated their fair share. Nothing felt like it had felt when Harry had been 18 and so smitten with the blue-eyed boy and his Yorkshire accent. It didn’t all feel good—it wasn’t about getting swept up in soft kisses and falling in love with tiny promises and the sound of Louis’ breathing when he slept next to him. It felt heavy and big and so, so fragile. Any second either of them could step on a landmine and blow the whole thing up. 

But it also felt worth the effort and Harry was willing to explore that. 

Harry slammed the door to his car and made his way into the office building where he knew Louis would be hunched over his desk, just crossing the threshold of the part of day that was meant for napping and not scouring legal texts. He smiled at the lady behind the front desk. 

“Hi Gina,” he said brightly, “Louis in his office?”

Gina’s freckled face gave way to a giant smile, and she nodded. Everyone around them seemed so happy at the prospect of them speaking again. He tucked away that knowledge to analyze later. He shot her a big grin and made his way toward Louis’ office. 

The walls to Louis’ office were glass, so he could see Louis with his feet up on his desk and his fingers pressed to his temples, massaging them gently. Harry lifted his hand to knock on the door, even though it was opened. Louis jumped forward in his desk, taking a moment to register that it was Harry. A broad grin spread across his face and he jumped up from his chair, crossing the room quickly. 

“Haz,” he said as Harry reached out the paper cup to him, “what are you doing here?”

“Thought you might need an afternoon pick me up,” Harry said, walking further into the office and sitting in the chair across from Louis’, “I know its supposed to be your nap time, so I figured you’d appreciate some tea,”

“And I do,” said Louis as he dropped back into his own chair, “how was your day? How was Lux?”

“Great, great,” Harry said, his eyes wandering to the bookshelf behind Louis where they landed on a picture of he and Louis on their wedding day, fake smiles in place, “work’s always great,”

Louis sensed the distraction in Harry’s voice and followed his gaze, realizing then what he was looking at. 

“Surprised you’d still have that up there,” said Harry, his voice quiet, not sure why he felt compelled to comment at all. 

“Why?” said Louis, not ever able to just let Harry muse without an explanation. 

“I don’t know,” he started, not moving his gaze from the photo, “just…that wasn’t your favourite day. It wasn’t what you wanted, I’m surprised you’d want to see it every day,”

“Yeah,” started Louis, “but it was what you wanted. I didn't want to take it down because then it would make it seem like you were gone even more,” Louis laughed a dark laugh, “not that I didn’t notice you were gone all the bloody time anyway,”

“Lou,”

“Nah,” Louis said, “it’s okay. I’m okay. You’re here now, yeah? Surprised me at work and everything. Feels good,”

…

Harry ran a comb through his hair. It was half five and he was already running behind because he heard the horn go off from the street three times already. He did a quick once over at himself in the mirror, trying to decide if he was dressed even close to appropriately for whatever it was he was stepping into. It was Thursday. It was the sixth day in a row he was going to speak to Louis. He’d kept up his little routine of dropping off tea to Louis after leaving work on Tuesday and Wednesday and both days had resulted in Louis abandoning work so they could go for a walk and eat kebabs and watch the sunset from the park by Gemma’s flat. Nothing further had happened. Half the time they walked together, Louis held his hand. The other half of the time Louis was laughing too hard at his own jokes and practically running circles around Harry with a new-found sort of energy that reminded Harry of the Louis he’d met eight years ago. The Louis that was captain of the football team and could run for hours on the field and still go back to his dorm and have three orgasms before begging Harry for some food. 

Yesterday, Louis had asked if Harry might want to go out for a proper dinner instead of wandering through the park and eating shitty street food. Harry hadn’t hesitated the way he imagined he might have. He’d jumped at the idea. Now, though, there was a tiny bit of fear in his stomach that only multiplied when he saw Gemma appear in the mirror with a smug smile on her face. 

“First date?”

“Just dinner,” Harry said, despite how sweaty his palms were. 

“Right,” her voice was cutting, she was about to call him on his shit and he knew it, “just dinner is why you’re all dressed up and staring at yourself in the mirror for an hour. Forgive me for ever thinking otherwise,” the horn sounded again, “you better hurry up and get out there before prince charming gets me a noise violation,”

Harry tried to smile at her, but his stomach was in knots. He didn’t have a clue where things were heading, but it all felt very much out of his control. He didn’t think Louis was really in control of it either, which was rare. Louis normally loved controlling things. 

“What if I’m making a mistake,” he whispered, still starting into the mirror. 

“Harry, babe,” Gemma started, “sometimes that’s what life is about. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, but you wouldn’t be standing here today without them,” she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder, “and I don’t honestly think that you see Louis as a mistake,”

“Of course I don’t,”

“Then what on earth are you waiting for, you wanker? Go eat dinner with your husband.”

…

The restaurant was quiet and there was only one other table of patrons left in the place as it approached ten. Harry knew they should leave soon, and that the wait-staff probably wanted to get home to their own lives, but he was wrapped up in the feeling of Louis’ hand in his. They were leaning across the table, giggling like they actually were on a first date. The wine they’d been sipping for the last few hours left a pleasant glow in Harry’s stomach. He felt his cheeks burning with a pleasant mixture of being in the company of the person in the world who understood him the most and the alcohol. Louis was especially funny that night, regaling stories about Zayn and Liam and his sisters. Harry was lost completely in the moment. He had forgotten about all the apprehension that he’d felt before getting into Louis’ car. 

The room was quiet and all Harry could focus on was the way Louis was leaning across the table to be closer to him. He could smell a mixture of merlot and ravioli on Louis’ breath. He felt attuned to every breath Louis was taking and maybe he shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Maybe it was only making things harder. Maybe he was misreading all the signs between them. It was possible that Louis missed who they’d been but didn’t have any desire to rekindle things. Harry felt pretty sure that he knew what he wanted now, though. That made things a lot scarier because losing Louis once had been enough heartache to last him the rest of his life. He couldn’t handle the idea that he’d be shot down and that he’d have to grieve the loss of their relationship and the hope of reconciliation. 

“There’s something I didn’t tell you,” Louis said, breaking Harry’s train of thought, “and it wasn’t fair of me to hold it against you when I didn’t even tell you what I wanted,”

“What are you talking about?”

“On that morning, at our wedding, when you came to my room. I was waiting for you to tell me you didn’t want to go through with it. That you wanted to hop in the car and drive to the airport and do it the way I’d convinced myself we both wanted,”

“Maybe I should have,” Harry tried to hide the shake he felt in his voice and gripped tighter to Louis’ hand, not willing to let him get away. 

“No, Harry. Maybe I should have. Maybe instead of just shutting up and letting things happen I should have just said something. Would you have left with me if I’d told you that’s what I wanted?”

Harry was nodding his head before Louis even finished his sentence. There were tears brimming in his eyes and they slowly started to fall down his cheeks while Louis watched. With his free hand, Louis reached out and wiped away a few of his tears. Harry leaned into Louis’ hand, closing his eyes against the gesture. 

“We fucked up,” Louis said then, his voice soft and his hand gently holding Harry’s jaw. 

“I miss you, Lou,”

“‘m right here, baby,” said Louis. 

Harry heard Louis’ chair push back against the tiled floor. Louis let go of his hand and slowly slid his hand from Harry’s cheek. He felt Louis at his side then, but still, Harry didn’t open his eyes. Here he was, crying in the middle of a quiet restaurant saying he missed the person who was right in front of him. He could tell that Louis was kneeling on the floor next to him. Louis took one of Harry’s hands in his and squeezed. 

“I’m always right here, Harry, I promised,”

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine as he felt Louis’ lips against the back of his hand. Fuck, he did miss Louis. He missed him in every possible way he could imagine missing another person. Harry had been lucky in his life that he was surrounded by so many people that cared about him and so many people that he loved so thoroughly, but Louis was his person. Louis was the only thing that he’d ever wanted to be good at. Maybe it wasn’t all his fault, but they’d messed it up. Somehow they’d ended up sleeping in different houses for months, and he felt pretty sure that regardless of the fact that they might not be able to make it work, he’d probably always love Louis. 

“Harry?” said Louis from the floor where he was crouching next to him, “I know I fucked up. I made you think I didn’t care and that’s the absolute worst thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. Worse than loving that stupid kale salad,”

Harry managed to choke out a gargled laugh, “you tit,”

“Your tit,” said Louis, “always your tit,” Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s torso, holding fast. 

“What are we doing?” said Harry as he ran his fingers through Louis’ fringe. 

“Figuring it out together?” said Louis, “I just feel like I already know what its like to lose you and that gives me way too much perspective. More perspective than strictly necessary,” he sighed against Harry’s chest, “and I just think you deserve to know the truth, even if I should have told you a year ago,”

“Perspective sucks,” Harry said tugging on Louis’ hair until Louis looked up at him. 

“Perspective is seriously over-rated,” he agreed, “and I’d really like if we could keep doing this—seeing each other. It makes things feel a lot better,”

…

Louis had played the bill and they’d finally left the restaurant, much to their server's satisfaction. Harry was leaning up against the driver’s side door watching while Louis lit a cigarette and inhaled it deeply. He remembered the day he’d first caught Louis smoking again. It had been toward the end of the wedding planning, when they’d been the least like themselves. Harry had been livid, but now, in this moment, he felt like he didn’t have a real right to complain about how Louis had found comfort in his absence. He hadn’t been there for him for the better part of a year. 

“Does it bother you?” Louis asked as he exhaled in the opposite direction of Harry. 

Harry just shrugged once. 

“Well, I know you don’t date smokers, so,” he flashed Harry’s favourite mischievous smile that was coated in sexual prowess.

“Oh, is that what this was? Did you take me on a date and not tell me it was a date?”

Louis huffed a laugh, his confidence shaken only slightly, “well, I thought the good food, red wine and hand holding might speak for itself,” 

Harry smiled, pushing himself off of the car and walking closer to Louis as he took another drag from his cigarette, “I don’t date smokers,” Harry confirmed, taking the cigarette out of Louis’ hand and stomping on it. He reached into Louis’ pants pocket and pulled out the pack, flinging it across the parking lot, “I don’t know if what we’re doing is dating, though.”

Louis lips turned up in a smile, “what about this isn’t dating? Enlighten me, Styles,”

“Tomlinson,” Harry corrected, “and that’s part of it. I already have your last name, why waste time trying to date?”

“Nothing about our dates are a waste of time, Tomlinson,” Louis’ cheeky smile was on full display and Harry was a moth to a flame. It was instinct. Louis was light and Harry was a moth and it didn’t matter how many times he got burned, he’d probably always dust off his wings and fly right back in. 

“Dates have other things, too,” argued Harry, “like cheesy lines and—”

“Oh, that’s what you think is missing? Cheesy lines? Want me to woo you all over again?”

Harry nodded slowly, smiling as he felt Louis’ hand slide slowly along his jawline. He closed his eyes and leaned into the gesture. He felt Louis come closer to him, then, and it all felt natural. It felt like this was where things had been heading since the second that Harry had whispered into the phone that he missed Louis. He felt Louis’ hand on the small of his back and it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel like they were making things messier, like they might regret it in the morning. Harry didn’t need to open his eyes, didn’t need to get perspective on what was happening because he could feel it through his entire being. He sighed just as he felt Louis’ lips brush against his. it wasn’t rushed or fevered in the way that most of their kisses had been for the last few years. It had been a long time since they’d kissed like this, without the pressure of sex weighing them down. Sex wasn’t in the cards, not right now. Not with everything they were going through, but this? This was nice. This was romantic and Harry didn’t even mind the lingering taste of cigarette on Louis’ breath. 

Slowly, Harry opened his mouth against Louis, slinging his arms around Louis’ neck and breathing into the kiss. Louis’ lips were soft against his, and it didn’t feel like it had felt all those years ago in Louis’ dorm room when they’d snogged until sunrise. The pressures of youthful lust were gone and this was much more about rediscovering the ways they used to fit—and this? This part had always come easily for them. It had always been easy to kiss Louis—to get lost in the sighs and the way he panted into Harry’s mouth. 

They broke apart after a long moment and Harry could feel the flush in his cheeks. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked down at Louis. His lips were pink and his blue eyes were practically electric as he stared back at Harry. There was something there. Something that Harry really wanted to take his time remembering. He’d missed Louis so much for the past few months that it would be a crime to just jump back in blindly without taking the time to properly fall back in love with all the little things. 

“Feels like a date now, yeah?” Louis’ smile was only a tiny bit smug, “you want your cheesy line, too?”

Harry smiled back at him and nodded slowly 

Louis’ mouth was still turned up in a smile as he began, “gonna call my mum when I get back home,” Harry was already laughing before Louis’ even finished the sentence, “can I tell her I’m seeing you again?”

Harry bit his lip, trying to control his grin, nodding slowly. 

“Good, and for what it’s worth?” Louis was confident now, burning bright in all the ways that had been missing for the last few months they’d been together. Harry was positively smitten, and he hadn’t even been sure that it was possible to be completely smitten with the same person more than once in his life—but it was incredible, “you’re not just the love of my life, Harry. It’s more than that—it’s always been more than that. You are my life. I’m not me without you,”

“Sounds like co-dependency,” Harry felt it, though. He was himself again. Louis had done that with a few hushed words and a (way too short) kiss. 

Louis jabbed a finger in Harry’s rib, “sounds romantic,” he corrected, “like proper date talk. You’re wooed, aren’t you?”

Harry just nodded once. He didn’t have to say anything more to know that they both understood. 

…

Harry was standing in front of the black board as he and Lux erased the last lesson he’d written from the board. School was officially done for the summer and all of the other students had already left. Lou was on her way to get Lux and Harry was keeping her entertained until she showed up. 

The start of summer was bitter sweet for Harry. Normally, when summer vacation started, he and Louis planned. Last summer they’d squandered their time and had done nothing but plan their wedding. That had been a mistake and Harry could feel that now in the way his skin itched to be somewhere else. Every summer since he and Louis had met had been full of adventure and exploration and now for the second consecutive year it wasn’t in the cards. It gave Harry a touch of heartburn to be constantly reminded of the life they didn’t have anymore. 

Things were looking up, though and that was impossible to deny. 

It had been exactly one week since Louis had called him up with his grand plan to find Harry a flat and pay off his car so they could break up properly. They were doing a pretty bad job of breaking up properly as far as Harry was concerned. The previous night had been, in a word, magical. It felt like redemption kissing Louis. It felt like he finally had some kind of perspective, like they were finally on the same page. 

He didn’t know what was supposed to come next, but he was opened to the possibilities. 

“Well if it isn’t everyone’s favourite kindergarten teacher,” Harry turned to smile at Lou who had just walked into the classroom. 

“Hey,” he said, smile on his face as he finished erasing the last part of the board. 

She hugged him quickly, pulling back and squeezing his cheek, “living the dream,” she said, “you’ve got the whole summer to bugger off and not lose your job. I made the wrong career choice,”

He laughed softly, “not sure I’m going to be doing much buggering off this year,”

Lou didn’t respond, she just studied Harry. When she finished her analysis she had a smug looking smile on her lips, “I’m sure I can name someone who wouldn’t mind buggering off with you for the summer,”

Harry could feel his face flushing. It had only been a week. There was no reason to expect that Lou might be right. 

“You look good, Harry. You look content,”

“Thanks,” said Harry, sensing the turn the conversation was going to take. 

“Have you seen him since Sunday?” Lou had come to pick up Lux from dinner and nearly peed herself in her enthusiasm when she’d seen Louis. 

Harry nodded, “had dinner last night,”

Lou smiled fondly at him, “I was always rooting for you guys. Every couple has to have a rough patch. Makes you appreciate what you have. Glad yours didn’t have to last for a year like mine and Tom's did,”

“I’m not even sure what’s happening,” Harry said, even though he felt pretty sure he knew exactly what he wanted to happen. 

“Well that makes one of us. I know what’s going to happen and I just hope you’re ready to forgive him,” she turned to Lux then, “come on, Luxie, daddy’s waiting in the car,”

And with that, Lux and Lou walked out the door and left Harry standing with the chalkboard eraser still in his hand. It seemed like everyone around him knew what they wanted for him. They were all so confident that things were bound to work out, that he and Louis would figure things out and wind up on the other side together. 

But none of his friends really knew how bad it had been to be trapped in the place they had been before he’d left. There was no denying the fact that things felt different now, but he didn’t know if it could last. He didn’t know if they could just press the reset button and start over. There was too much at stake between them. 

Before he could have enough time to contemplate his next step, he heard Lux screech from down the hall. 

“Louis!”

Harry felt his stomach fall through the floorboards. Louis was there. He’d left work early to come and meet Harry after his last day of classes. He tried not to read too much into it. It didn’t have to be the giant gesture that it felt like. Maybe he’d just brought some kebabs or chips and they would wonder around watching the sunset and occasionally hold hands. Maybe Louis wasn’t there any more than he’d been there for the past week. Maybe they were still staying in the same strange place they had been in all week. That would be okay. The slow progression had been easy to accept, simple for him to follow. 

He heard Louis say a few words to Lux before his footsteps came closer to Harry’s classroom. Harry watched the door and waited for Louis to appear. When he did, Harry felt his cheeks flushing. All he could think about was the soft kiss they’d shared the previous night in the parking lot at some Italian restaurant after Harry had cried and Louis had told him he’d always be there. That he’d promised. 

And he was. Just like he’d promised Harry all those years ago. He was standing in the doorway to Harry’s classroom, still in his suit from work and holding a whole bunch of papers. Harry didn’t know what to expect next, but he knew without a doubt that there wasn’t a single place he would rather be than there, with Louis, figuring it out together. 

“Hey,” was the grand total of words that Harry was able to come up with. 

“Congratulations on making it through another school year,” Louis said as he walked further into the room, “‘treat people with kindness’," Louis read the words from the board, “you were a born kindergarten teacher,” his smile was fond. 

Harry watched him for a moment while he laid the stack of papers on Harry’s desk. Louis watched Harry intently as he eyes rested on the pile.

“What’s this?” He asked. 

Louis’ face softened and he smiled gently at Harry, “Well, first of all I wanted to thank you for last night. It was nice to just be with you like that again, without the pressure of everything else,”

Harry felt his cheeks flush because he was now pretty aware of what he wanted, of how he felt. He wanted nights like the pervious one to be an endless loop for the rest of his life and that desire felt heavy and solid inside of his chest as he watched Louis. 

Louis rocked back and forth on his feet as he stared at Harry, “and aside from that, I thought that if the past week was a pretty good indication of anything, it was that you’re confused or apprehensive or something and I figured I know exactly what you need to tip the scales,”

He probably did, too, because Louis had always been a little bit better at knowing Harry that Harry ever had been. 

“What do I need?”

“A grand gesture,” said Louis, looking a little bit nervous himself, like he taking a risk he wasn’t really certain would result in a reward, “so I came here with a proposition for you,”

Yesyesyes. Harry didn’t even know the question but he knew exactly what he wanted to answer with.

“What is it?” He said instead, sensing that Louis needed to say the things he’d planned. 

“I propose that you run away with me,” Louis’ eyes glittered with the prospect of adventure, “it’s just that I’ve had nothing but time these past few months, and I think we agree on the fact that we did it wrong. Why don’t we try again? I can’t possibly have anything left to lose at this point because losing you made me realize that you have always been the only thing I couldn’t live without,” he paused for a moment, “and the thought occurred to me that maybe we should just keep taking it slow, that we could figure each other out all over again, but fuck that, Harry. I already know who you are. I already know that you’re always going to hog all the blankets and shove your cold feet under my arse instead of wearing fucking socks,” Louis coughed out a small laugh along with Harry after his words, “and you know who I am. What you don’t know, though, is that that person doesn’t exist without you. You make me, me and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think it means that we were always right being together,”

Harry wanted to scream. His heart was threatening to beat clean out of his chest. For so long he’d been confused about what was going to happen in his future. For so long he hadn’t been sure what he wanted, but he’d never allowed himself to hope for this. He’d never imagined that his leaving would affect this much change in Louis. 

“And, like, it makes me sick to think about you with someone else. Makes me sick to think about not being married to you. It makes me even sicker to think about you having kids with someone else, a future with someone else. It’s supposed to be me and I’m sorry for whatever it was I was doing. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t care—it was just that I cared so much that I didn’t know how to cope. I didn’t know how to tell you that it felt like I lost you when you were still standing in front of me,”

Louis took a deep breath then, “so, run away with me, Harry, baby,” 

He flipped through the stack of papers and handed Harry a brochure. Harry looked away from Louis blue eyes to read the banner across the top of the page in front of him. Niagara Falls, Ontario. A brief smile flickered across Louis’ face when he saw he recognition in Harry’s eyes. 

“We already had their wedding,” Louis said softly, “let’s have ours,”

“Louis,” Harry’s voice held all the fondness in the world and he was half a second from dropping the brochure on the ground and throwing himself at Louis. He needed to think rationally, though. 

Louis shook his head, “I’m not done,” he said and Harry’s favourite cheeky smile was set in place. He knew what Harry’s answer was going to be, he was just in the mood to sell it a bit harder. Harry pressed his lips together and waited for Louis to continue. 

“I have three weeks off, starting Monday,” he began, handing Harry another brochure, “let’s make it count. Let’s see what Toronto looks like outside of the airport and see what all the fuss is about Newfoundland. I don’t care where we go, Harry but I want you with me. I’m sick of going home every night without you. Come home,”

Harry put the flyer back on his desk, “it can’t be how it was,”

“No,” said Louis, “it literally can't. I can’t ever be that way again because I know what happens and I can’t lose you again. It’s not possible,”

Harry watched as Louis brought his hand up to run it through his fringe and there, on his fourth finger, his wedding ring caught the light. 

"You're wearing your ring," Harry said softly.

Louis glanced down at his hand and then back at Harry, "I mean, technically, I never really stopped," he said, "I was wearing it on a necklace every day since I took it off, and then after last night I just kind of thought, 'fuck it'. I don't like necklaces anyway and it's a promise I made to someone I love very much and it's never felt right to not be wearing it,”

Harry felt it then--as if every second since their first phone call in fourth months hadn’t been leading him there--he felt the scales tip. Something soft and warm and perfect oozed through his veins in the most pleasant way. He reached through the neck of his shirt and tugged the chain out. It was the same chain he’d worn every day for as long as probably he and Louis could both remember. There, hanging on it next to the cross his mother had given him on his fourteenth birthday, was his wedding band. He saw the emotion break across Louis’ face. Happiness mixed with pain and maybe a touch of relief flickered in Louis’ eyes. 

“I couldn’t really take it off,” Harry said as he pulled the necklace over his head. He wanted to put it back on, to accept all of the promises Louis was ready to make and make some more of his own. 

When he’d finally freed the ring, Louis reached out and grabbed it before Harry had a chance to slide it back onto his finger. 

“Do you mind if I hold onto this for awhile?” Louis asked and Harry was so, so in love with the light that had come back into Louis’ eyes. He was so, so in love with Louis. With his Louis.

“Why?” Asked Harry, as he moved closer toward his husband. 

“Because I want to put it back on. In Niagara Falls, when I make you a better promise,”

Harry smiled and nodded slowly, “‘kay,”

Louis’ grin stretched from ear to year, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” confirmed Harry. 

“You want to run away with me? Start over?” Louis wanted to hear Harry say the words.

“More than anything,” he confirmed, “now, can we please have more kissing?”

“Yes. Lots,” said Louis, “and I’ll even do you one better and give you a nice blowjob when we get home—or on the side of the road. Your preference,”

“Lou,” said Harry giggling softly at the dirty words as they settled around him in his kindergarten classroom, “your blowjobs aren’t ‘nice’,” he said and Louis pulled a face before he finished his thought, “they’re life affirming.”

“Love you, H,” said Louis as he snaked an arm around Harry’s back and pulled them flush against each other, “I’d marry you a million times if it didn’t seem redundant. Twice will have to be enough,”

Harry smiled then and laid a soft kiss on Louis’ lips. The lips he’d been addicted to for the better part of a decade. The lips he’d missed more than anything else in the months they’d been apart. There was no questioning it anymore. Louis was his soulmate and they could make it work because it was what Louis wanted. It was what he wanted and the universe seemed like a far less empty place for that realization. 

They were going to be okay.

 The End.