The stars above you and the streets below

"There’s a boy sitting on the opposite roof. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, hunched over a book. Almost as if he can feel that Louis is (somewhat creepily, but, well) looking at him, he lifts his gaze from his book and meets Louis’ eyes.
Louis’ very first thought when their eyes meet is that the boy is really pretty."
Inspired by the tags on this post. Louis and Harry are twelve and ten years old respectively the first time they meet, and everything after that just kind of happens, really.

Notes:

I first got the idea for this when I read the tags on the above post. I was itching to write it, and this is the end result. This would never have been finished without these four lovely ladies helping and beta-ing: my beta, MC, and Jesse, Maria and Sami. The title is from Kiss me slowly by Parachute.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The first time that Harry and Louis meet, Louis is twelve and Harry is ten. It’s at the end of a warm summer’s day in the beginning of August, and Louis has just moved to Holmes Chapel. He’s just gone up the stairs to see his new room. His bed is stacked at the top right corner by the window, and the floor is full of the boxes he has yet to unpack. He pads quietly up to the window and looks out. Right below it, there’s a small roof ledge, big enough for him to sit on if he’d want to. It’s the reason he wanted this room in the first place. There is not much space between their house and the house next door. If he wanted, he could crawl across both roof ledges and into the neighbour’s house, which- is a creepy thought, since he doesn’t even know who lives there. Maybe it’s an old lady with nineteen cats. Still, Louis thinks. It’d be great if it was someone his own age that he could make friends with. Friends are awesome.

When Louis comes backs from having dinner – pizza on paper plates sitting on the boxes in the kitchen, my my my aren’t they fancy, those Tomlinsons – there’s a boy sitting on the opposite roof. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, hunched over a book. Almost as if he can feel that Louis is (somewhat creepily, but, well) looking at him, he lifts his gaze from his book and meets Louis’ eyes.

Louis’ very first thought when their eyes meet is that the boy is really pretty.

The boy’s eyes are a clear green, staring back at Louis. He doesn’t even think before he crosses the room and opens his window, climbing out on his own roof ledge, all the while the boy watches him curiously. The boy shifts where he’s sitting on the roof, and slips a little and accidentally bumps his foot into Louis’ calf.

“Oops.”

“Hi.”

The boy doesn’t take his eyes off him as he closes his book. Harry Potter. Louis likes him already. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips, but it’s not there quite yet, as if he’s trying to make up his mind about him. And, well. Louis can’t exactly blame him; he’s probably come across as a creep. Time to make a better second impression.

“I’m Louis,” he says. That’s always a good start.

“’m Harry.”

“Hi, Harold.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Details.”

Louis smiles at him before he climbs across the distance between them and sits down next to Harry.

“So, Harold. Tell me about yourself. I need to see if we can actually be neighbours, after all.”

Harry just watches him for a few moments, running his fingers over the cover of his book before he starts talking. Louis learns a lot about Harry. He’s ten and he’s lived here all his life, and he has a sister named Gemma and a cat named Dusty. His parents got divorced three years ago, and he tells Louis about how he lives with his mom and her boyfriend Robin. He also talks slowly, but Louis finds that he doesn’t mind it. It’s quite endearing, but he won’t tell Harry that. Louis in turn tells him about himself, how his parents are divorced too, how his sisters annoy him to death sometimes but he loves them like crazy anyway, and how he came out here because he wants to make friends and not because he’s a creep.

“You’re funny,” Harry says, smiling at him. “I like you.”

“Right back at you, Harold.”

Louis wants to stay and talk to him, but they’re interrupted when Harry’s mum tells him it’s time to come inside. Louis crawls across to his own side and turns around to give him a quick smile.

“Tell you what, Harold. Meet me here tomorrow?”

Harry looks at him for a second before breaking out into a smile, making Louis notice the dimple in his left cheek for the first time.

“Yeah, alright.”

After that, Louis and Harry are more or less inseparable. They spend the rest of the summer practically joined at the hip, making their mums joke about how they’ve both gained an extra son. The roofs become their spot, it’s no longer just Harry’s. After those first nights, it’s as if there’s a silent agreement between them to meet up every single night, no matter if they’ve only been apart long enough to eat dinner with their families, having spent the rest of the day together, too.

Harry’s not yet in secondary school, so when school starts in September, their time together is cut short. They agree to meet up on the roofs every day anyway, just like they’ve done ever since Louis moved there. It’s almost as if they cherish it even more now that they don’t have all day to spend together. It’s theirs, and Louis loves it. He tells Harry about the friends he makes, about the boy next to him in class named Zayn who was really quiet until he laughed at one of Louis’ jokes and they started talking from there. Zayn in turn introduces him to his best friend Liam. It takes somewhat longer for Liam to warm up to Louis than it did for Zayn, but he does eventually.

“So you’re replacing me, then?” Harry asks one night when they’re sitting next to each other on Harry’s roof. He’s trying to joke, Louis can hear it, but there’s seriousness hidden in his tone. Louis scoffs, because no way.

“Don’t be silly, Haz,” he answers without hesitating and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “You’re my best mate.”

Harry leans into the touch with a smile.

“You’re mine, too,” he says quietly.

Louis looks at him and pokes his finger into his cheek, making his dimple appear.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Louis’ arm stays wrapped around his shoulders. His mum watches them for a few seconds longer than necessary when she walks into Louis’ room to tell him to come inside, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

Louis is thirteen when he joins the local football team. He loves it, loves running until he feels weak in the knees, loves the feeling he gets whenever they have a match and loves being a part of the team. More often than not, he sees Harry sitting on the stands. He brings one of his friends with him to one match, a blonde boy named Niall. Louis has already introduced Harry to Zayn and Liam, and it’s not uncommon for the four of them to hang out together. Niall becomes the fifth addition to their group. He’s loud and hilarious, and in many ways it feels like a final piece fitting into place.

Harry, Niall, Liam and Zayn stay behind after one of the matches. Louis drags all of them out onto the field and divides them into two teams, him and Harry in one and the other three against them. It’s- Harry’s kind of horrible at football. Louis scores them a couple of goals, enough to win over the others. Harry trips over his own feet when he passes the ball to Louis, and Louis laughs even as he jogs over to him to help him up.

“Oi, Harold, you’re going to make me regret putting you on my team?”

“Shut up.”

When they’re finished, Louis takes Harry’s hand in his and raises them above their heads, stumbling across the field in what is at least supposed to resemble a victory lap.

“I’ll be writing autographs if you lads will just form an orderly queue here.”

“You had Harry on your team and yet you managed to win,” Niall says flatly.

“What can I say? I’m awesome, so some of it rubs off on young Harold, here,” Louis says, which earns him a punch to the shoulder from Harry.

“They’re the dream team,” Zayn says from behind Niall. It’s obvious from the tone of his voice that he’s joking, but Louis likes the sound of it. The dream team.

“You’re bloody right we are,” Louis says, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“Bloody annoying twats, both of you,” Niall says, rolling his eyes.

“The dream team?” Harry asks. “You almost regretted putting me on your team just minutes ago.”

“Shh,” Louis says, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t ruin the moment. Of course we’re the dream team.”

Louis is fifteen and he has never been more bored in his entire life. If boredom could kill, he’d probably be dead by now. He’s not sulking, though, no matter what his mum says.

He’s totally sulking. Harry’s off spending the entire summer with his dad and Louis misses him. His friends and family are no help at all. His mum teases him endlessly, and Zayn, Liam and Niall are even worse.

“Aw Lewis, are you still missing your loverboy?” Niall asks one day.

“Sod off.”

“He’s worse than my sister when she misses her boyfriend,” Liam adds, smirking at him.

“He’s a drama queen,” Zayn says dryly, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Thanks for all the support, lads, I really appreciate it.”

“Oi, don’t be so melodramatic. He’ll be back soon enough.”

“Of course I miss Harry, I’m stuck here with you lot.”

“And that’s the only reason, I suppose?”

“Oh I don’t know, Zayn, it could have something to do with the fact that he’s my best mate.”

“Anything else?”

Louis just looks at him. “What’s gotten into you? You’re weirder than usual.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Louis is not pacing.

“Stop pacing,” Charlotte says from where she’s sitting on the couch.

“I’m not pacing.”

Her only reply is a roll of her eyes before she turns her attention back to the telly.

Five minutes and thirty-eight seconds later (but who’s counting, not Louis, that’s for sure), Louis sees Harry getting out of his dad’s car from their kitchen window. When he hears the knock on the door, he all but rushes to the hallway to open it. (If anyone asks, he walked very calmly and rationally, obviously.)

“Hi,” he says, unable to contain his smile when he sees Harry standing on their front porch.

Before Harry has a chance to reply, Louis wraps his arms around him in a fierce embrace. Together, they stumble backwards into the house, not wanting to let go out of each other for even a second.

“You,” he says quietly, “are never allowed to leave, ever again.”

“Oh Lou, were you that miserable without me?”

“Shut up.”

Louis is the first to break away from the hug. He keeps one arm wrapped safely around his waist, letting his thumb rub circles into the fabric of his t-shirt. He’s been without him for two months, he’s not ready to let him go just yet. So sue him.

“It’s cute,” Harry says with a smile that probably matches his own. “You’ve missed me.”

“This is usually where you’d make me feel like less of a sap by telling me that you’ve missed me too, you twat.”

“Honestly, I barely had time to think of you. I was too busy.”

Louis clutches his hand to his heart, mock offended. “Right in the heart, Styles. Right in the heart.”

“Of course I missed you, you idiot.”

Louis ruffles Harry’s hair, unable to stop smiling. “Aw, Harold, you shouldn’t have. Now come inside. I’m not letting you out of here before your mum puts out a missing person ad, at least.”

Harry laughs as he tucks himself closer into Louis’ side and nuzzles his nose against his neck. Louis thinks he could get used to always having Harry pressed this close to him.

“Lead the way, kind sir.”

The first time that Louis and Harry share a bed, it’s a few weeks after Louis’ sixteenth birthday. His mum and Mark have been fighting for a couple of weeks and Louis feels terrified. He doesn’t remember much about his dad leaving them, but he does remember sitting in his window late at night and watching him as he walked out the front door and out of their lives without even looking back and him being much too young to realize what had just happened. He doesn’t want it to be, but the situation with Mark now feels scarily similar to it. He holds Phoebe and Daisy close as he reads them a bedtime story, and he hugs Fizzy and Lottie closer than necessary when he hugs them goodnight, trying to convey that it’s all going to be okay, even if he doesn’t know it.

He’s quiet when he sits on the roof with Harry that night, who in turn watches him with sad and contemplative eyes, trying to understand what’s wrong. Louis tells him that they’re fighting, but he doesn’t tell him that he’s scared. Harry knows what happened with his dad, and judging by the way he looks at him when he tells him about the fighting, Louis doesn’t even have to explain it for Harry to know that he’s scared senseless. He squeezes Harry’s shoulder before he climbs inside his own window that night, gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

He’s just gotten into bed when he hears the rapping on his window. He’s tempted to pretend to be asleep, exhaustion seeping into his bones, but he knows that Harry won’t go back to his own house unless Louis actually opens the window. He gets out of bed and walks across the floor to open the window, shivering when he lets the cold air in.

“Hi,” Harry says quietly as he climbs through the window and into Louis’ room. He almost stumbles over the cord to Louis’ bedside lamb once he’s inside, and Louis can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Harold? I wanted to sleep.”

“And you will. C’mon.”

“Harry,” Louis says weakly, confusion evident in his voice.

“Lou. Trust me, okay? Get into bed.”

Louis just stares at him for a couple of seconds before he gets into bed. He watches as Harry pads across the floor and lifts the covers to get into bed next to him. Harry offers him a soft smile, and Louis’ heart melts.

“Come here.”

Harry presses himself closer to Louis, resting his head on his upper arm. His smile grows even softer when Louis wraps his free arm around his waist to pull him impossibly closer, his thumb brushing in circles across his side.

“It’s going to be okay, yeah? I know you’re scared even if you won’t say you are, but it’s going to be okay, Lou, I promise.”

Louis shifts them around so he can wrap both his arms around Harry’s waist, smiling when Harry in turn wraps his arms around him. He buries his nose in Harry’s neck, breathing in the scent of him. Harry falls asleep before he does. Louis stays awake and just enjoys the feeling of holding him, and being held in return. He brushes a kiss against Harry’s neck before he closes his eyes and lets the sound of Harry’s soft snores lull him to sleep, as well.

It’s the middle of April and it’s way too early for him to be awake. He’s also pretty sure that he’s freezing to death, or at least well on his way to get hypothermia. He’s just about to get up and grab an extra blanket from the linen closet in the hallway before burying himself beneath the covers for the rest of the day when he hears a rap on his window.

He knows who it is even without seeing him. He quickly walks out into the hallway and grabs the extra blanket before he pads back to his room and opens the window.

“H, it’s bloody freezing, what are you doing?”

“Can you come outside?”

Louis opens the window wider, and motions with his arm for him to climb inside. “You come inside.”

“Please? I want to do this out here.”

“You’re being even weirder than usual, just so you know.”

Louis shoves the blanket at him before he grabs the covers from his bed and wraps them around himself and climbs out the window. They sit down together on the roof. Without hesitating, Louis opens the covers and waits for Harry to tuck himself into his side. Harry hesitates before he scoots closer to Louis and rests his head against Louis’ shoulder. He didn’t hesitate for long, but it was still long enough for Louis to notice. Louis furrows his eyebrows. Harry’s never hesitated with him before, and it makes a seed of worry settle in the pit of Louis’ stomach. They’ve always been tactile, always more likely to be found with their arms wrapped around each other or pressed closely together, side to side, than apart. He wraps the covers around the both of them, and drapes the blanket across their laps and presses a kiss into Harry’s curls.

“Everything alright?” he asks, drawing invisible circles with his fingers on Harry’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, hesitating for too long. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Haz.”

“I wanted to tell you something, and I was going to do it tonight, but, uhm… I was afraid that if I don’t do it now I’d be too scared and chicken out.”

“Should I be worried? Is there a body we need to hide?”

“Lou.”

“Hey,” he says quietly, tilting Harry’s chin up with his index finger to look at him. “I’m right here, yeah? And I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry’s features soften a little at that. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth before he purses his lips together. He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands. Louis places what he hopes is a comforting hand on his knee and waits, knowing better than to push right now.

“I’m gay,” Harry says slowly, quietly, his eyes never leaving his hands.

Oh.

“Oh.”

“I get if, like… if this is going to feel weird for you now. I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted some distance, or anything. I’d be sad, but I’ll deal with it, if that’s what you want. Unless you want to stop being my friend completely, I’d get that too-“

Louis interrupts him by covering his mouth with his hand.

“Harry.”

Harry blinks, looking up at him.

“What on earth are you going on about? Do you really think I’d abandon you because you’re gay?” he asks, and wow, that thought hurts.

Harry glances down at his lap and shrugs. When Louis drops his hand, Harry licks his lips and looks up at Louis before he starts speaking.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I didn’t want to make things weird between us, and I know you’re my best mate and I trust you more than anyone, but there was still the possibility that you could be grossed out by me and just… I wanted you to be the first to know, but I was also scared shitless of the outcome.”

“How long have you known?”

“About a month, give or take. Like, I just… I never looked at girls the way the rest of the lads in my class do, and it doesn’t really… do anything for me, you know? Remember when your mum and Mark had made up and you all went to Doncaster to visit some of your relatives a couple of months ago?”

Louis shudders. “Daisy got nail polish in my hair.”

“I hung out with some of my friends while you were away, and we were so bored out of our minds that someone suggested we play spin the bottle.”

“You had your first kiss two months ago and you haven’t even told me? I told you about mine as soon as it happened, that’s rude, Harold.”

Which is not a pleasant memory because there’d been way too much tongue and the girl had just kind of looked at him like she wished he was someone else, or that it hadn’t happened at all. They’d parted amicably enough that Louis didn’t turn his gaze to the floor when he saw her walking down the hallways at school, but it still wasn’t something that he liked to relive.

Something possessive and something that almost feels like jealousy unfurls in his chest when he thinks of Harry kissing someone, but he pushes that thought aside just as quickly as it came. Harry’s his best mate, it’s natural to be protective of him. It’s nothing.

“Sorry,” Harry says sheepishly. “It all kind of adds up to me telling you I’m gay, so I was avoiding it for as long as I could. One of the girls spun the bottle and it landed on me and it was nice, yeah? But that’s it. And then when it was my turn to spin it landed on a guy and I remember thinking oh. It wasn’t a perfect kiss, but it was so different from kissing her that I kind of just… realized.”

Louis is not jealous. He’s just… overprotective. Yes. That’s it.

“I was going to tell you when you got back, but I knew there was a small possibility that it might change how you act towards me, and I didn’t want you to be weirded out.”

“Harry. Haz. Hazza. Look at me.”

Harry looks up at him, the uncertainty visible in his face and Louis just wants to hold him.

“You’re my best mate, yeah? And that’s not going to change. We’re the dream team, remember?” he says with a small smile, bumping his shoulder against Harry’s. “Nothing is going to change, I promise.”

Harry looks at him for a moment before a small smile spreads across his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course it won’t. I love you, Haz, that’ll never change.”

Louis realizes that it’s the first time he’s said he loves him as soon as the words escape his lips. Instead of answering, Harry buries his face in the fabric of Louis’ t-shirt, going silent for so long that Louis thinks he might’ve fallen asleep.

“I love you, too,” he says quietly, but still loud enough for Louis to hear it.

When Harry meets Louis on the roofs after he’s told his mum that he’s gay, there are tracks of tears on his cheeks and a smile on his face.

“I’m so proud of you,” Louis says quietly, poking his finger in Harry’s cheek to make his dimple appear.

Harry’s smile is blinding as he pulls Louis into a fierce hug and tells him about how his mum said that she’ll always love and accept him, and Louis thinks that Anne is probably the best mum in the world, right up there with his own.

Louis’ realization that he’s gay happens a few weeks after his seventeenth birthday. It’s not like flipping a switch – it’s more of a slow realization. He realizes that the hidden porn folder on his laptop has a lot more guys than it does girls. He realizes that whenever he wanks off, the image behind his closed eyelids is never a girl. It’s always a faceless guy, except for the few times the guy has turned into Harry, and Louis resolutely doesn’t let himself think about that, shoves it aside with some shitty explanation that it’s because he and Harry are so close. Even when he tries to picture his future, he can never see a girl by his side.

(He sees a lanky boy with curly hair and green eyes, instead, but he doesn’t let himself think about that either. They’re best mates, it’s normal, right? Right.)

The final piece of the puzzle is laid when he’s at a party one of Niall’s friends is having. Harry is off with Niall somewhere. There’s a guy standing next to Louis, smiling when Louis talks and inching closer as the minutes pass. Louis knows the signs, knows he’s being flirted with and he flirts right back, lets his hand linger on the guy’s bicep and his eyes travel over his body.

There’s something missing, but he can’t put his finger on it.

The guy leads him into the kitchen, which is mostly empty. He knows where this is heading before it happens, and yet he barely has time to react before the guy’s lips are on his. It’s good, good in a way that it’s never been with girls, something different about having another guy’s body pressed against his own instead of a girl’s, and suddenly Louis realizes and oh.

Louis is just about to tug the guy closer when he hears someone entering the kitchen. In a crowd of thousands of people, he’d still be able to pinpoint exactly where he is. He’d recognize him anywhere. Louis’ stomach drops.

“Oh,” Harry says, his voice and face completely unreadable. “I was just- I’ll go. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

Harry leaves just as Louis pulls away from the kiss. The guy watches him curiously as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Please don’t tell me that was your boyfriend.”

“What? No, uhm… I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Louis gives him an apologetic smile before he walks out of the kitchen, desperate to find Harry. He finds him in the hallway, grabbing his jacket from a coat hanger and shrugging it on. He reaches out a hand to touch him, to stop him from leaving, and Harry looks up at him. For the second time in only a few minutes, Louis can’t read the expression on Harry’s face and it terrifies him.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Harry asks, his voice cold.

“Harry.”

“Look, I’m sorry for interrupting you, okay? I didn’t know you’d be in there with him. I’m leaving, you should go back to him before he leaves.”

“No. If you’re leaving, I’m leaving.”

“Christ, Lou, this isn’t fucking Titanic.”

Louis flinches.

“Haz-“

“You know,” Harry continues as if he hasn’t even heard him. “At least I told you that I’m gay, I didn’t let you find out that your best friend is gay by walking in on him with someone else.”

“Can we talk?” Louis pleads. “I promise I’ll explain, just… Please. I can’t stand you being mad at me.”

Harry watches him for a few seconds, his face still unreadable.

“We can talk on the way home. Here.”

Harry hands him his jacket, and all Louis can do is nod in thanks. He feels speechless, and he doesn’t know where it all went so wrong.

They walk side by side on the way home, and yet it feels like they’re a million miles apart. There’s no casual brush of their arms, or bumping their shoulders together, like it usually is. There’s just distance, and Louis has no idea how to breach it.

“So,” he offers weakly, not knowing what else to say.

“So,” Harry echoes.

“I didn’t- Like… I didn’t purposefully not tell you, Harry, I’d never do that. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, piecing it together, but it was only tonight when… that happened, that the last piece kind of just slipped into place, you know? It’s like when you told me about the party, and how you’d kissed that guy and you knew? That’s what happened with me tonight. I think I’ve known it for a while now, because I can’t envision a future where I’m with a girl,” he says and ignores the way it feels like he’s hiding something. “This, tonight, was sort of what made me certain. And I’m sorry that you had to find out like that. You would’ve been the first to know, but I didn’t want it to be like that.”

Harry looks at him for a few seconds that feel like a lifetime. Louis worries his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I know how hard it was for me to come to terms with it, and I wasn’t being fair to you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis exhales, looking at him fully. “I never meant for you to find out like this.”

“So you’re…”

“Gay. I’m gay.”

“Okay.”

“Are we okay?”

Harry waits a moment too long before answering him, and Louis feels like he’s about to break.

“Of course we are.”

Harry bumps their shoulders together then, and when they part at Louis’ driveway, the hug Louis gives him is much too brief. He knows that they’re not okay just yet, but he thinks they will be. Eventually.

It is weird between them for a while, even if none of them want to admit it. Louis thinks it’s excruciating, and if the look he sees on Harry’s face is anything to go by, he thinks it is, too. Their hugs are shorter than usual and the touches aren’t as lingering. Zayn, Liam and Niall all pick up on it. Neither Louis nor Harry miss the way they glance at each other behind their backs, confused.

Niall comes up behind them one day after school, getting in between them wrapping his arms around both of them.

“Oi, dickheads. Just how long are you going to keep this up? I’m exhausted and I’m not even involved. Get your head out of your arses and sort it out, yeah? Or I’ll lock you in a room together and force you to talk it out, I swear I will.”

“Niall,” they both say in unison.

Niall laughs before he lets them both go. Harry looks at him then, really looks at him for what feels like the first time in months and Louis could cry. He offers him a small smile, his eyes hopeful.

“Get here, you twat,” Harry says eventually, smiling brightly.

Louis doesn’t hesitate before closing the distance between them. He wraps his arms firmly around his middle, burying his face in his hair and just breathing him in. Harry’s own arms wrap around his shoulders, and he can feel the tip of his nose brushing against his neck. Louis loses track of how long they stand like that.

“I’ve missed you,” he says quietly, only loud enough for him to hear.

“I’ve missed you, too. Christ, this has been exhausting.”

“Tell me about it. I’m sorry for being such a twat.”

“’s okay, I’m used to it.”

“Oi.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says, quieter this time.

Louis pulls back long enough to meet Harry’s gaze. He lets his hands linger on his waist, wanting him, needing him as close as possible right now.

“Are we okay?”

Harry looks at him for a moment before he nods, smiling softly.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

They’re okay.

The second person Louis tells is his mum. She hugs him tight and says that she’ll always love him, no matter what. Harry tackles him in a fierce hug when he tells him about it, murmuring “I’m so proud of you” in his ear and pressing a warm kiss to his cheek.

It’s Harry’s sixteenth birthday when Louis realizes it.

It’s just past midnight of February 1^st. Louis and Harry are sitting on Harry’s roof, huddled close together under a blanket. Gemma gave him an early birthday gift in the shape of a plastic princess tiara with a small hot pink boa at the bottom of it. Harry had put it on instantly when she’d given it to him, and he’s still wearing it now, slightly askew from when he’s taken it off to run his hands through his hair only to put it on again. Harry’s eyes are drooping with sleep, his curly hair disheveled and his lips tinged pink from raspberries he ate before, a smudge of frosting on his chin from the cupcakes he ate earlier. There’s a full moon tonight, and the light plays across Harry’s pale skin, making it look like it glows and his eyes sparkle, accentuating the pink of his lips. His eyes are focused on Louis, his smile the one that is only reserved for him. Louis thinks he has never looked more beautiful than he does right now.

There are no fireworks going off when he realizes It, no explosions in the sky. It’s not a cinema moment. There’s just Harry, Harry who’s been his everything since he first met him on this very roof. Harry who knows him better than he knows himself, whom Louis knows like the back of his hand, who understands him without any communication necessary. Harry, with a princess tiara, raspberry juice on his lips and frosting on his chin. He’s the only thing Louis can see, now and every single time, and the realization makes his breath hitch in his throat.

He is so in love with him.

“Hey, Haz?” he says quietly, struggling to get the words out.

“Hm?” Harry hums, smiling up at him.

Louis tucks him closer against him, presses a kiss to his forehead. His mind feels like it’s running a million miles a minute, and he has no idea how to go about telling his best friend that he’s in love with him.

Later, he’ll give him his present, the haphazardly wrapped leather-bound notebook lying on his desk. For now, he just needs to be close to his boy.

“Happy birthday, love.”

The weeks pass, and Louis still can’t find it in him to tell Harry. His heart clenches painfully in his chest whenever Harry hugs him, whenever his hands linger on him, or when he catches Harry looking at him. Whenever, really.

They’re in Harry’s room watching One Tree Hill (Louis is watching and Harry pretends to watch because Louis likes it, it’s tradition) one lazy afternoon when Louis notices the writing on the leather-bound notebook he gave Harry for his birthday.

“Haz?”

“Hm?”

“What’s this?” Louis asks, dragging his fingers across the one and only and please written in block letters on the front of the notebook.

Harry hesitates before he answers him.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

Louis knows when Harry’s lying to him, has known for six years now. It hurts to know that Harry doesn’t trust him with whatever this is, but who is he to talk, really? He’s pretty sure he’s the worst one out of the two of them, when he’s hiding what is probably the biggest fucking secret possible from his best friend.

“Nothing?”

“You know the Adele song One and only, yeah?”

“’Course I do.”

“That’s why. It’s a good song, ‘s all.”

Louis decides to drop it. If Harry doesn’t want to tell him, that’s fine. Completely fine. Splendid, even.

He glances at the clock on Harry’s bedside table, cursing loudly when he sees what time it is.

“Shit. I have to go. Mum’s doing the night shift tonight, Mark’s working late and the twins are sick so I promised to take care of them.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Haz, you don’t have to do that. It’s fine.”

“The last thing Phoebe and Daisy need is food poisoning from your cooking on top of being sick.”

“Such a smooth talker, you are.”

“Sod off. I’ll make some chicken soup, yeah? I brought some chocolate croissants home that were left over from the bakery today, I’ll bring them.”

Louis wants to kiss him. Louis always wants to kiss him.

“You’re keeping me a kept man then, yeah?”

Louis realizes what he’s said a second later, and he internally winces at himself. He doesn’t want it to feel like this, he doesn’t want to second guess everything he says when he’s with Harry, or wonder if he’s being blatantly obvious with every touch and everything he says. On the other hand, he also doesn’t want to make things awkward. There’s a part of him that just wants to tell Harry that he’s in love with him, but there’s also another, bigger part of him that tells him to shut up. Harry has always been there, and Louis doesn’t want to be the one to do something that will make him leave.

“’Course I am,” Harry says, and it takes Louis a moment to realize what he’s referring to.

“Lucky me.”

“Now, come on, babe. I believe we have a pair of twins to take care of.”

True to his word, Harry does make them chicken soup for dinner. Phoebe and Daisy look up at him like he’s hung the moon. Louis can relate. The twins don’t feel up for any dessert (Louis is marking this day in history), so he and Harry end up sharing the croissants. The twins take Harry by the hand and lead him into the living room to watch a film, and he laughs all the while, loud and deep. It’s the millionth time that they want to watch Finding Nemo, but Louis doesn’t mind. Not when he’s too busy sneaking glances at Harry, sitting on the couch with Phoebe and Daisy on either side of him, both of them resting their head on his shoulder. He runs his finger through their hair and hums whenever they comment on the film. It makes something inside Louis’ chest ache, seeing him so comfortable with them. With a pang, he realizes that he can visualize a future just like this, with children that are their own instead of Louis’ sisters. He clutches the armrest of the sofa with one hand and uses the other to run through his hair, willing the thoughts away with sheer mind force.

Not that it works, mind you.

Harry catches him staring at one point when the twins have fallen asleep against him, and gives him a soft smile.

“Let’s get these two to bed, yeah?” he says quietly with a nod of his head towards them.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees.

Louis gently lifts Phoebe up and balances her on his hip. He smiles softly when she unconsciously clutches his t-shirt with her small hands, snuffling in her sleep. Daisy wakes briefly when Harry lifts her up, but she’s too exhausted to do anything else than settle into Harry’s side, her arms wrapped around his neck. They walk up the stairs together slowly, padding quietly across the floor to the twins’ joint room. Phoebe and Daisy only stir minimally as they lay them down in their separate beds. Louis watches with a fond smile on his face as Harry brushes a stray lock of hair off Daisy’s forehead and presses a kiss to it before standing up. He’s so in love with him it hurts.

His mum comes home not long after that. When Louis tells her about how Harry cooked for them, she looks at Harry with a smile on her face before pulling him in for a motherly hug.

“He’s a keeper this one, isn’t he?”

Louis shuffles his feet and looks down at the floor.

“I reckon so,” Harry says, smiling brightly.

“Don’t let Louis scare you away, yeah? The rest of us Tomlinsons aren’t half bad.”

“Oi,” Louis interjects. “I’m really feeling the love here, mum.”

Jay lets go of Harry in order to pinch Louis’ cheek.

“I’m only joking, boo bear. You know you’re my favorite son.”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“I’m also your only son. And thanks for dropping the nickname by the way, Hazza here is never going to forget you mentioned it.”

Harry’s eyes are sparkling with mischief as he smirks at him.

“Sorry, what was that, boo bear? I didn’t quite catch you.”

Louis groans and just barely resists the urge to kiss that stupid smirk off Harry’s face.

“Thank you for your help today, love,” Jay says to Harry.

“’s nothing, really. I’m just happy to help.”

“I know how much those two adore you. Not to mention him over there,” she says with a smile.

Louis is going to fill in an application to be adopted first thing in the morning.

“Oh the adoration is all mutual, we’ve discussed it.”

Harry shoots him a soft, private smile, so different from the one directed at Louis' mum, and Louis' heart clenches miserably in his chest.

“Tell Anne I say hi when you go home, yeah?” Jay asks.

“Definitely.”

Jay goes off to the kitchen to have some of the leftover chicken soup, and Louis and Harry walk upstairs to Louis’ room.

“Hey,” Harry says quietly, nudging their shoulders together. “Come back to mine with me?”

Louis smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. “Well, I was going to insist on walking you home anyway, so.”

“You were going to offer to walk me home. Across the roofs,” Harry deadpans.

“Fine, suit yourself. Who knows what dangerous things might lurk out there in the darkness.”

Harry laughs at that, loud and deep. Louis likes to think that he’s the only one who can make him laugh like that.

“Come on then, old chap. Walk me home.”

Louis lies on Harry’s bed, absentmindedly watching tv as Harry finishes a paper due tomorrow. When he’s finished, he closes the lid of his laptop with a soft thud. He grabs the remote out of Louis’ hands and turns the tv off before he kneels on the bed and slowly crawls across Louis, steadying himself with his arms and hovering above him.

Louis is the walking definition of cool. If one were to look up indifferent in a dictionary, there’d be a picture of him next to it. Definitely.

Harry eases himself down slowly, letting out a soft, contented hum as he rests his head right above Louis’ heart.

“Oi, get off me, you big lump.”

“Nah, ‘m comfortable here.”

Despite his words, Harry shifts them around a bit until he’s lying next to Louis instead of on top of him, pressed close to his side. Louis smiles softly at him as he tangles their legs together.

“Fancy a cuddle, then?”

“Always.”

Louis presses a soft kiss into Harry’s curls, scared that his expression will give him away if Harry looks at him long enough.

“Hey,” Harry says quietly when a few minutes have passed. “You have tomorrow off too, yeah? You want to spend the night?”

“I do, but mum works the early shift tomorrow, I have to get the twins ready for school.”

“’s okay, we’ll set the alarm.”

Louis is torn between crying and doing a dance of happiness right then and there in Harry’s room. He can do this. Platonically spending the night in his best friend’s bed is an expertise of his. If they gave out PhDs in it, he’d be the first to get one. Totally.

“I’ll go over and grab something to sleep in, then.”

“Don’t be silly, you can borrow something of mine. You know I usually sleep naked, but uhm… not tonight, obviously. Can’t scare you away completely now, can I?” Harry teases, smirking up at him.

Obviously.

“I think you would’ve managed that a long time ago if you were actually capable of it, but you’re about as scary as a kitten, Harold. No one would be scared of you.”

“Meow,” Harry says softly, gently biting Louis’ shoulder through his t-shirt. Louis thinks it says something about how gone he is for this boy that he even finds him trying to be a cat adorable.

Harry gets him a pair of sweatpants and a pair of pajama bottoms for himself. Louis resolutely does not watch as Harry changes out of his jeans right in front of him, focusing on anything but Harry’s naked skin and the way his boxer briefs cling to his body, making Louis mouth go dry.

Right. No ogling it was.

They crawl into bed together after that, and Louis wants to cry at the air of domesticity of it. He settles in on the right side of the bed, which has always been his side, between the two of them. He doesn’t want to think about how he has sides on the bed with his best friend, like they’ve already been married for the past two decades. Harry settles in next to him, lifting Louis’ arm to curl himself into his side, smiling when Louis runs his fingers up and down his bare arm soothingly. Harry drapes an arm across Louis’ stomach and lifts himself up long enough to press a dry kiss to Louis’ collarbone.

“G’night, Lou.”

Louis gently squeezes his side as Harry tangles their legs together, letting Louis squeeze his toes between Harry’s calves.

“Goodnight, Haz,” he says, softly pressing a kiss to his temple.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the night, but he’s never been able to say no to Harry.

It must be the dimples.

The first thing that Louis registers when he wakes up is that there’s an arm draped heavily across his stomach. Second, he’s sporting a morning boner. It only takes a slight shift of his body to feel Harry’s own pressed against his bum, and he bites his lip to stop himself from letting out a whimper.

Third, there’s someone in what definitely looks like a blue nurse’s outfit standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and an unreadable expression on her features.

Oh shit.

“Mum,” Louis croaks out, thankful that the covers are hiding their bodies.

Harry shifts beside him, nuzzling his nose into Louis’ neck as he slowly wakes.

“What time ‘s it?” he croaks, blearily opening one eye.

“Good morning, Harry,” Jay says.

Harry’s entire body stiffens against him.

“I guess we slept through the alarm.”

Louis just hums.

“Louis William Tomlinson,” she begins. “Would you care to explain why I walked into your room this morning to wake you before I went to work, and I find, to my surprise, that you’re not there?”

“I sleepwalk.”

Beside him, Harry snorts.

“Louis,” she says, somewhat sternly.

“Uhm.”

“Louis,” she says, softer this time. “I don’t mind you spending the night at Harry’s, you know that. I just want you to tell me in advance, yeah? I don’t fancy dying of a heart attack from not knowing where my kids are. Thankfully there was no question where you were, but still. I would’ve done with a note, even, but the next time you want to stay over at Harry’s, tell me, yeah?”

“Yeah, ‘course. ‘m sorry, mum.”

“Harry, Anne’s waiting for you downstairs. I’m assuming she has something similar to what I just said on her mind. Look, I have to get to work. The twins have to get up and ready for school in twenty minutes, so don’t go back to sleep, okay? I’ll call you on my break and make sure everything went well.”

“Sure thing, mum.”

“Right. Bye, you two. No funny business,” she says with a wink.

Louis catches Harry biting his lip, his eyes shining with amusement. He wants to sink through this bed into the bottom of the earth, himself, but he can’t stop his lips from tugging upwards in a smile, either.

“Mum.”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.”

“I think she definitely bought the sleepwalking excuse,” Louis stage whispers once she’s left.

Harry glances up at Louis, and it only takes mere seconds before they’re both laughing, loud and bright in the dimness of the early morning.

There’s a party, and Louis is not drunk. Harry has just forgotten to mention that he has a twin.

“When did you get a twin?”

Harry laughs beside him. He’s had a few drinks as well, but not as many as Louis.

“Let’s get you home, babe.”

“No, I want to stay.”

The music is loud, reverberating through Louis’ body. He’d drunk to forget for a while, to forget the way his heart skips a beat in his chest whenever he sees Harry. It’s not working, through. Mostly, it only made the room spin. Harry’s still there, Harry with his lovely pink lips and his even lovelier dimples and Louis feels his traitor heart clench in his chest. He needs another drink.

“I need another drink.”

“Oi,” Harry says, wrapping his fingers around Louis’ hand when he reaches it out towards Niall and the drink he’s holding.

“Hazza,” he slurs. “Lovely, lovely Hazza.”

Louis pokes his finger in Harry’s cheek, making his dimple appear. Harry smiles for a moment before taking Louis’ free hand in his.

“Babe. I’ll walk you home, yeah? C’mere.”

Louis is suddenly too tired to object. Harry steadies him by wrapping an arm around his waist, leading him through the house and out the door. They’re not far from home, and Harry keeps his arm wrapped around Louis the entire time. Louis keeps his head pressed against Harry’s shoulder. The world spins when he walks, so he closes his eyes and trusts Harry to lead him straight.

Which. Straight.

He lets out a giggle into Harry’s shirt, making Harry look at him confusedly.

“Care to share what’s so funny?”

“Straight,” is all Louis says, and it’s enough to send him into another fit of giggles.

“You’re even weirder when you’re drunk, who would’ve thought that was even possible?” Harry muses.

“Oi.”

Harry shushes him as they reach Louis’ house. When it’s obvious that Louis is well on his way to waking up the entire house, Harry fondly rolls his eyes and clasps his hand over Louis’ mouth.

Louis blinks.

Harry just shrugs at him before removing his hand and leading him up the stairs to Louis’ room.

“C’mon,” Harry says once they’re inside, sitting Louis down on the bed and lifting his arms to tug his sweater off. “Off.”

“’m tired.”

“I know, babe. Just a few more minutes, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Harry tugs his shoes off, followed by his socks.

“Lift your hips for me, love,” he murmurs quietly with a pat to his hip, and removes his jeans when Louis complies.

When Harry is finished, he pulls back the covers and watches as Louis crawls into bed, letting out a contented sigh when his head hits the pillow. Louis turns around, and winces when he realizes he’s moved too fast.

“’m going to die. The room won’t stop spinning.”

Harry laughs softly at that.

“You’ll be fine.”

Harry sits down on the bed next to him, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Harry, who’s always so close and yet so far away at the same time. Harry, who Louis always wants closer than he is. Harry Harry Harry.

“Get here,” he mumbles unconsciously. He doesn’t realize that he’s said it out loud until Harry answers.

“’m right here,” he says, his voice quiet and soft, tender.

“Closer.”

Harry watches him with an expression that Louis can’t read before he gently tugs off his shoes and lies down next to him. Louis’ eyes light up, blindly reaching his hand out to touch him anywhere he can reach. He ends up accidentally tickling him, making Harry squirm against him, suppressing his giggles.

“Oops.”

“Louis.”

“Hi hi hi,” he murmurs, nuzzling Harry’s neck and tangling their legs together, trying to press closer to him. He drapes an arm around him, smiling contentedly. “Hi.”

“Go to sleep, you koala.”

“’Kay.”

He feels dry lips linger against his forehead as he drifts off, dreaming of curly hair and lips tinted pink.

Louis wakes up alone, his head pounding and the covers down by his waist. There’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on his bedside table, accompanied by a note saying take these and you’ll feel human again soon enough, you twat .x.

Louis winces as he swallows the pills, even the smallest movement making his head feel like the school’s marching band has decided that his head is their new rehearsal area. He glances at the note one more time, and falls back asleep with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The next time there’s a party, Niall is the one who’s hosting it. His parents are away for the weekend. Louis has no idea how he managed to get them to trust him with the house all to himself, but Louis is not going to question it. Harry is the one who drinks more out of the two of them, this time. Louis remembers all too vividly feeling like the slightest movement made his stomach lurch and his head throb the last time he woke up hungover, and he’s not in the mood to relive it tomorrow morning. He paces himself, nursing a couple of beers throughout the night.

Someone suggest they play spin the bottle, which is how they end up sitting in a circle on the floor of Niall’s basement, a beer bottle in the middle of the circle. They didn’t have any empty bottles when the game was suggested. It led to Niall draining a bottle of beer in record time, saying something about taking one for the team, and, well. Here they were.

Zayn is the first to spin the bottle, which results in him snogging Niall for what Louis thinks is probably longer than necessary. The game continues after that – Liam makes out with a girl named Sophia, a girl named Amy lands the bottle on Niall and so it goes. Louis thinks Niall is the one who’s getting the most out of this, and judging by the wide grin across his lips, he’s not complaining.

“Oi. Best party ever, or what do you say, lads?”

Louis laughs, and his eyes are drawn to Harry. One way or another, he always ends up looking at him. Harry smiles softly at him, his hair mussed and his eyes glassy as he mouths a hi at him. Louis mouths hey, you back at him, and the smile Harry gives him in return is Louis’ very favorite one that is reserved just for him.

Some guy Louis doesn’t know lands the bottle on Harry, and Louis resists the urge to exclaim an end to the game right then and there. He can’t tear his eyes away as Louis watches the guy lean across the circle to kiss him. Jealousy spreads through his chest, and to him, the kiss can’t end soon enough.

“Are we quite finished, lads?” he asks, trying to make his voice sound emotionless.

Harry watches him curiously, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as the other guy settles back in the circle. Louis shrugs as he feels Harry’s eyes on him, not quite knowing how he’ll explain himself if he’s asked about it.

Harry tears his gaze away from Louis and grabs the bottle, spinning it. Louis holds his breath. He doesn’t want to see Harry snogging any more people tonight, one was enough, thank you very much, and-

No.

No no no no.

The bottle lands on Louis.

“Oh,” he manages to say, clearing his throat.

He chances a glance at Harry, expecting to see disappoint in his eyes. There’s no disappoint visible in them, though. Harry is smiling at him, as if this is going to be fun. As if Louis’ heart isn’t threatening to burst out of his chest right now.

Right. To Harry, this is just a part of the game. To Louis it’s a moment he’s more or less imagined thousands of times.

Harry crawls across the floor to him slowly, smiling and settling down on his knees once he reaches him.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

Louis can do this. He can. Really. Cross his heart and hope to die.

“Hi, love,” he says quietly, only for him to hear.

Louis inches closer to him and sits himself up on his knees. He swallows as he slowly raises his hands and cups Harry’ face, watching Harry’s eyes flutter as Louis brushes his thumbs under his eyes and across his cheeks. Harry’s own hands come up and softly wrap around Louis’ wrists. Louis leans in closer, closer, ever so slowly. Harry watches him with the smile that’s only for him, his eyes sparkling as Louis leans in even closer, still.

Harry’s thumbs caress the skin on his wrists as Louis finally leans in to close the distance between them. Before he has the chance to change his mind, he tilts his head and presses a soft, lingering kiss to Harry’s cheek.

He feels Harry going rigid against him. He hears the soft “oh” that escapes Harry’s lips, feels it like a dagger in his chest as he hears the hurt and betrayal in that single word. He takes a deep breath as he feels Harry’s fingers slipping away from his wrists and watches him as he backs away slowly, sitting down in the circle once more. The entire room has gone silent.

It’s always pained him to see Harry hurt, made possessiveness flare up in his chest along with anger over whoever has hurt his boy. It kills him to reject Harry, to know that he’s the one responsible for the expression of hurt visible on his face, for how his shoulders have dropped and how he’s hunched in on himself as if he’s trying to protect himself. He wants to take it back, wants to cross the distance between them and cup his face in his hands and kiss him, if only to erase the hurt from features.

But he can’t, and he doesn’t.

Harry scrambles off the floor as soon as Niall declares the end of the game, and Louis hurries after him. He needs to explain himself, somehow, needs to make things okay again. He finds him on the front porch, standing with his back leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. He tries to approach him as quietly as possible, but he knows it’s in vain when he watches Harry’s jaw clench and his lips press into a thin line. His eyes snap open, and Louis wants to cry at the hurt that is so painfully visible in them.

“Haz,” he says quietly, desperately.

“Don’t,” Harry says coldly. “Please don’t.”

“Can we talk?” he pleads, licking his lips. “I need to explain myself, I can’t stand-“ I can’t stand you looking at me like this, his mind supplies for him.

“What is there to explain?” Harry asks as he walks away. “I’m going home. If you want to talk, you can talk on the way.”

The coldness in his voice cuts Louis like knives. He stands rooted to the spot for a few moments, before he shakes his head and forces his legs to cooperate, following him. They walk next to each other, and yet Louis has never felt so far away from him.

“Harry.”

“I don’t understand you. I don’t understand how you can make out with random guys like that time I saw you with whatever his name was, and yet the thought of kissing me is so repelling to you.”

“That’s not what it was about.”

“Then explain it to me, Louis. What was it about?”

Louis pauses before he speaks, not trusting his own voice not to waver. “I’m not going to be your drunken mistake, Harry.”

At that, Harry abruptly stops walking. He stands frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. Louis turns around to face him, shuffling his feet on the ground.

“Who said anything about it being a mistake?” Harry asks.

Louis chances a look up at him, and if he thought there was hurt in his eyes before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s so much hurt and betrayal visible in them, and something akin to anger glazing beneath it all. Harry has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and Louis loves him for it.

He just never thought that Harry would ever look at him like this.

“You’re drunk, and the only reason that the bottle ended up on me is because it’s a game, Harry. It wasn’t you who chose it, you didn’t choose for the guy to land the bottle on you, nor did you choose it to end up on me when it was your turn. I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”

“That is bullshit. I know you only see me as the little brother you never had, but it was spin the bottle, Louis.”

“I’m not going to have this argument with you while you’re drunk.”

“Oh that’s rich, coming from you who was the one who wanted to explain it all in the first place!” Harry cries out, throwing his arms out at his sides. “You know what? Fuck you, Louis.”

Louis visibly flinches. They may mock insult each other every single day, but he’s never heard those words fall so viciously from Harry’s lips or accompanied with such an ice cold glare directed straight at him.

“Harry. You’re my best friend,” he swallows before he continues, needing a moment to stop himself from doing something stupid like starting to cry. “I didn’t want to be your drunken mistake, something that you’ll regret in the morning.”

“Y’know, for a moment, I thought maybe…” Harry begins, trailing off. “But obviously not.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Harry,” Louis tries again, his voice pleading. “I did it because you mean too much for me to mess it up like this.”

Harry stares at him, something contemplating visible in his gaze through the haziness of the alcohol.

“I’m going home.”

“Haz-“

“Don’t. Lou, don’t.”

Louis watches him walks away from him. It feels like he’s walking out of his life, and Louis can’t breathe. He sits down on the sidewalk and manages to pull his phone out of his pocket, thumbing out a quick message to Zayn. He hadn’t been particularly drunk at the party, either.

To: Zayn

can u make sure haz gets home alright?

From: Zayn
sure babes. everything alright?

Louis wants to cry.

To: Zayn
no

From: Zayn
ur not getting out of talking abt this u know

To: Zayn
just make sure harry’s okay

He sits on the sidewalk with his head buried in his hands until Zayn comes. He offers to walk him home, as well, but Louis shakes his head. He remains where he is until Zayn texts him that Harry is okay. Only then does he start heading home, as well.

Louis ignores the painful stab in his chest as he looks out the window at the conjoining roofs. With a deep sigh, he gets into bed and prays for sleep to claim him.

He doesn’t sleep.

It’s weird, after that. They don’t meet up on the roofs every night anymore. When Harry catches him standing in the window one day, he pulls down the window blinds.

Louis ignores the lump in his throat, and busies himself in helping his mum.

At school, there’s an empty seat next to Louis at their lunch table these days. Harry sits on the far end of the table as far away from him as possible, not looking at him once. Zayn, Liam and Niall glance back and forth between them, knowing better than to ask them about what’s wrong.

Louis wouldn’t know where to begin explaining, anyway.

“So, are you two going to just sit here and pretend like the other doesn’t exist for the rest of the school year, then?” Niall asks one day at lunch.

Louis doesn’t answer.

Harry doesn’t answer.

Neither of them look at each other.

When Phoebe and Daisy ask him when Harry is coming over next time, he lies and says that Harry’s going out of town for a while. It works until they see him in the driveway, earning him two sets of eyes glaring at him.

Charlotte and Fizzy say he’s sulking. Louis doesn’t say anything in response, and he ignores their questions of why.

His mum watches him carefully. He can hear the hesitation in her voice when she asks if something has happened with Harry. It hits him like a pang in his chest that he’s not the only one who’s lost Harry. His entire family adores him, and it’s his fault that they’ve all lost him. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, and when his mum notices, she pulls him close and murmurs soothing words in his ear.

He wants to believe her, but he can’t.

Harry doesn’t come to his football games anymore. There’s an empty seat next to his mum, and if Louis listens closely there’s a distinct lack of a deep, loud voice in their cheering. He plays worse than ever, and pretends that it has nothing to do with losing his best friend.

He sees Niall talking to Harry right before Zayn and Liam corner him in the hallway.

“So, are you and Harry ever going to work your issues out? Because it’s getting bloody awkward for the rest of us to sit and pretend like nothing’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing to work out, Zayn.”

“Right, and you and Harry haven’t been ignoring each other for the past month and a half.”

“Look,” Louis says, running a hand through his hair. “I fucked up. He doesn’t want to talk to me and there’s nothing I can do to change that. If it bothers you so much, find another table to sit at,” he snaps.

“Louis,” Zayn says, fixing his gaze on him.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pulling them both in for a quick hug. “I didn’t mean that. We’re good, yeah?”

“’Course we are,” Zayn answers when he and Liam pull away. “You and Harry aren’t, though.”

“Can we please drop it? Harry doesn’t want anything to do with me, so I can’t just walk up to him and demand that he talks to me. I fucked up, I know that.”

“The thing about the two of you,” Zayn says, “is that you’re both so bloody blind to what’s right in front of you.”

What.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, continuing when he sees Louis shooting him a glare. “It’s not my place to tell, okay? Now come on, lunch is almost over and I have to get to class.”

Louis walks with them until they have to part ways to get to their respective classes, and Zayn’s words still linger in his mind when he sits down in his seat.

“Mum?”

“Hm?” she hums, closing the book she’d been reading.

“Are you busy?”

“’Course not, I always have time for you.”

Louis shoots her a grateful smile and sits down next to her on the couch. She runs her fingers through his hair and he leans into the touch, letting out a soft sigh.

“What’s bothering you, baby?”

“How do you know I just don’t want to spend time with my favorite mum?”

“Two things. First of all, that argument doesn’t work because you only have one mum. Second, something’s been bothering you for weeks. I’ve been waiting for you to come and talk to me about it.”

Louis clasps his hands together, looking down at them before he begins to speak.

“I’m in love with Harry.”

His mum doesn’t even stop running her fingers through his hair.

“How long have you known?”

“Since… since his sixteenth birthday.”

“Oh, love,” she says quietly, letting out a soft gasp.

“You don’t sound surprised at all about me being in love with him.”

“Do you remember when you told me that you were gay?”

Louis nods, looking up at her.

“I was kind of expecting you to tell me something else that day, too. When you didn’t say anything else, I assumed that you either hadn’t realized it yet or that you weren’t ready to tell me.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“I see it in the way you look at him, you know. Like he’s your everything and there’s no place else you’d rather be than by his side, right next to him.”

“You’re such a sap,” Louis says before continuing. “Am I that obvious?”

“Oh, love. I’m your mum, there’s no use in trying to hide stuff from me. I’m supposed to know these things.”

“I messed it all up, though.”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“Harry’s not in love with me, I know that. I was trying to come to terms with it, because it hurt so much to push my feelings aside every time I was with him, but the thought of losing him hurt even more, you know? I was determined not to lose him. Then… a few weeks ago, there was a party, and I messed everything up. I didn’t want to lose my best friend, and yet that’s exactly what ended up happening.”

“Louis.”

“Mum.”

“This is not my place, but I have to ask you. Has it ever occurred to you… that maybe Harry looks at you the same way that you look at him?”

Wait.

What.

Louis struggles to get the words out. “Mum, just because we’re both gay it doesn’t mean-“

“That’s not what I meant,” she says, interrupting him. “Has it never occurred to you that Harry might be harboring the same feelings for you, and the same fears, as well?”

Zayn’s words from a while back float through his head, as well as his mum’s just now. But that can’t be, right? It’s just wishful thinking.

“Zayn said something, a while back. He said that we were both blind to what’s right in front of us,” Louis says quietly, looking down at his hands once more.

“I’ve always thought Zayn was smart,” his mum says, nodding.

“It doesn’t matter, though,” Louis sighs. “I ruined it.”

“Louis. You’ve been best friends for six years. I’m sure there’s nothing that the two of you can’t work out.”

“Unrequited love is a pretty big issue, mum.”

“You don’t know if it’s unrequited, love. Now, I’m going to make us each a cuppa, and we’re going to talk more about this. Sound good?”

Louis can only nod. His mum presses a kiss to his cheek, and then he’s left alone in the living room, staring down at his hands as a thousand different thoughts run through his head.

It’s ultimately Niall who forces them together one day. In hindsight, Louis guesses that they should’ve seen it coming.

The five of them are walking on the school yard one day, Louis on the far left and Harry on the far right, both of them pretending that there’s never been a time where they were in the middle of the group, the two of them walking together, Harry’s arm draped across Louis’ shoulders and Louis’ wrapped firmly around Harry’s waist.

“I think one of you lads forgot a sweater at my party,” Niall says suddenly. “Come with me and check it out, yeah? Otherwise my mum will just think it’s one of ours and it’ll get lost in the laundry.”

“I don’t recall having forgotten a sweater. I’m going home,” Harry says quietly.

“Harry. Just come with us, yeah? You can go home straight after. My mum’s been nagging me about it, ‘s all. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Harry looks at him for a moment before he reluctantly agrees. “Fine.”

Niall doesn’t live far away from the school, so it only takes a few minutes before they’re at his front porch. Louis looks away. He doesn’t want to remember what happened the last time he was here.

“It’s still down in the basement, I think. Just go down and look, yeah?”

Zayn and Liam let Louis and Harry walk down the stairs first, slowly trailing after them. When they get down to the basement, it’s pristinely clean, and Louis can’t see any sign of a sweater anywhere.

“Zayn, do you see the sweater or is it just me who’ve gone blind here?” he asks.

No answer.

Conveniently enough, Louis realizes that Zayn and Liam aren’t even there with them at the same time as the door to the basement is slammed shut. Both he and Harry hear the twisting of the key in the lock.

“Niall, I’m going to kill you!” Louis shouts.

“Oi! None of you can say that this was a bad idea. I knew that you two twats would just work your way out of actually coming over if I invited you. The school’s the only place where you two are actually together. All it took after realizing that was to come up with a convenient lie. Best idea in the world, innit?”

“You do realize that this is kidnapping, right?”

“You’ll thank me later!”

Louis stares at the door as he hears three pairs of feet walking away, trying to process what just happened. He aches as he remembers what happened here, remembers how he was sitting right in this very room when he fucked everything up. He turns around to look at Harry, who’s looking down at his feet on the floor. The silence between them hangs in the air.

“Look,” Louis says after what feels like a lifetime of silence. “We can’t just… not talk to each other when we’re here. Even if we do get out of here and still haven’t said a word to each other, Niall will find another way to get us alone together.”

“Okay,” Harry says eventually, looking at him like he’s trying to figure him out. “We’ll talk.”

“I’m-“

“I was-“

They both cut off when they realize that they started speaking at the same time. Louis smiles hesitantly at him, lets it grow wider when Harry returns it.

“You go first,” Harry says with a gesture of his arm towards him.

“I’m so sorry,” is the first thing Louis says. “I never meant to hurt you. Would you believe me if I said that I was only trying to protect you? I was trying to protect us, and our friendship. I had good intentions, and yet I managed to fuck it all up anyway. It killed me to see you look at me that way, Haz- Harry,” he says, regretting the nickname as soon as it’s escaped his lips. He doesn’t think they’re quite back on good enough terms for those yet.

“I didn’t want to be something that you would regret in the morning, or worse, not even remember at all,” he continues. “You mean too much for me for that to happen to us. I felt that if I’d go through with kissing you that night, it would ruin us. I guess it did, anyway, though.”

“Do you think we’re ruined?” Harry asks quietly, nervously.

“I don’t want us to be.”

“Me neither.”

Harry gives him a small, brief smile before he continues talking.

“I think I overreacted that night. I was drunk, and that’s no excuse, I know, but I was. I’m so sorry, too. I keep thinking that if I’d just stop to think about it, I would’ve seen where you where coming from, you know? And then afterwards our fight just escalated. Thank you for making sure I got home okay, by the way.”

“I figured you wouldn’t want me there, then.”

“Then back in school, we weren’t talking and it was like there was an invisible wall between us that I didn’t know how to break down. I wish I would’ve tried. I’m sorry for not trying.”

“You’re not the only one who didn’t try. I’m sorry, too.”

“I miss you,” Harry says, just barely loud enough for Louis to hear it.

“I miss you, too,” he says, and thinks, in for a penny in for a pound. “I miss you so much it hurts.”

He knows that he has to tell him. The words feel like they’re stuck in his throat, just waiting to pass his lips. He doesn’t know how Harry will react, but he also knows that they can’t just go back to being best friends if Louis doesn’t tell him.

“Come here.”

Louis comes willingly, taking Harry’s outstretched hand in his own. Harry tangles their fingers together and gives Louis’ hand a gentle squeeze, making him smile. Harry drops his hand, and they both reach for each other at the same time. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, burying his nose in the crook of his neck as he feels Harry’s arms coming around his back. He breathes easily for the first time in nearly two months.

“Hi, love,” Louis murmurs.

“Hi, Lou.”

“There’s something else that I have to tell you,” Louis says quietly as he pulls away from Harry’s embrace, his hands lingering on his waist.

“Okay.”

“I don’t know if… It might fuck everything up again, but I can’t go back to being us with you again without telling you.”

“Louis, you’re scaring me.”

Louis smiles weakly at him. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

He drops his hands from Harry’s waist, and takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, he supposes. No time like the present and all that motivational stuff he sees on tv all the time.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Oh.”

“I know you don’t feel the same way, and that’s totally fine,” he says, his voice cracking at the last word and betraying him, “but I had to tell you-“

Louis loses his trail of thought at that, because If he’s not mistaken, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of Harry’s lips.

“You’re not… weirded out?” he asks hesitantly.

“Lou,” Harry says fondly, smiling so wide his dimple is visible now, “I’ve been in love with you for the past two years.”

“Harry,” he says, his voice almost breaking.

“I thought there was no chance that you’d feel the same way. That’s why I was so upset at Niall’s party- I foolishly thought that maybe if you kissed me it’d change the way you looked at me, and then when everything happened I just felt so stupid, you know?”

“Harry,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s face in his hands. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you turned sixteen. I think- I think that it’s been much longer than that, but that was when I realized it. We were sitting up on your roof and I looked at you, and I just knew.”

“Lou,” Harry murmurs, his voice barely audible, as Louis gives him a fond smile and brushes his thumbs across Harry’s cheekbones.

He drops his hands to his sides, hooks his thumbs in the hoops of Harry’s jeans to tug him closer. He settles his hands on Harry’s waist, letting his fingers slide beneath his sweater to touch his bare skin. As Harry places his hands on Louis’ shoulders, Louis thinks that his smile is brighter than the sun. They’re standing together chest to chest, close enough for Louis to feel Harry’s breath ghost over his lips. He nudges his nose against Harry’s with a soft smile.

“Hi,” Louis murmurs.

“Oops.”

“Sap.”

Louis smiles as he closes the last bit of distance between them, pressing their lips together in a warm kiss, applying just the faintest pressure. Harry’s lips are soft and plump against his own, and Louis can’t help the quiet moan that escapes him. Louis lets his tongue gently run along the seam of Harry’s lips, sighing into his mouth when he parts them, smiling when he feels Harry moan into the kiss as their tongues meet. He can feel Harry smiling against his lips as he deepens the kiss. Louis wraps his arms fully around Harry’s waist, needing him impossibly closer.

“Oi!” they hear Niall saying from behind the door, making them break the kiss. “Are you two finished down there or do we have to leave you there for a couple of hours?”

“We’re coming, Niall,” Louis says, his eyes never leaving Harry’s.

“Ew, I didn’t need to know that.”

Harry’s cheeks are tinged a lovely shade of pink, his lips kiss swollen and darker than usual. Louis wants to ravish him.

Harry holds out his hand for Louis to take, and Louis intertwines their fingers, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and shooting him a fond smile as they walk up the stairs.

They don’t tell the boys right away, deciding to keep them hanging for a bit.

At lunch, they sit even closer than they used to. Louis keeps his arm draped across Harry’s shoulders, his fingers drawing invisible patterns on his shoulder. Harry’s hand is warm on his thigh beneath the table. Louis feels like he can’t tear his eyes away from him, which earns him an apple in the head courtesy of Niall one day.

“The rest of us exist too, you know?”

“Hm?” Louis says, smiling.

“Jesus christ.”

Harry laughs beside him, giving his thigh a squeeze and leaning further into his side.

Zayn, Liam and Niall find out when they catch them snogging in an empty hallway. Louis and Harry don’t notice them staring until Liam clears his throat. They break apart reluctantly, their cheeks tinted pink and their lips chapped.

“I knew it!” Niall exclaims, reaching his hands up. “Pay up, lads.”

“You bet money on us?” Harry asks incredulously.

“We bet on how long it would take you two twats to get your shit together, and I won. I can’t believe that you thought it would take another year, Zayn,” Niall says, shaking his head and muttering tsk tsk tsk.

“We need new friends,” Louis whispers in Harry’s ear, his lips brushing his earlobe.

“You need to step away unless you want to explain to my English teacher why I have a boner in class,” Harry hisses back, even as he keeps his hand on Louis’ bicep.

“I could take care of that,” Louis teases with a smirk.

Harry blinks, his eyes dazed.

“You’re the worst.”

Louis smirks before he leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Later.”

The two of them giggle against each other’s lips as they stumble up the stairs to Harry’s room later that day, neither of them wanting to let go of the other long enough to move properly.

Harry walks them backwards until his knees hit the edge of his bed, and with a smirk he drags Louis down on the bed with him. He moves himself up until his head is propped on his pillow. Louis smiles as he crawls up his body to meet him in a soft kiss.

“Y’know,” Harry murmurs when Louis moves his lips down his jaw to his neck, his teeth grazing his pulse point and making Harry’s breath hitch in his throat, “if you would’ve just told me earlier, we could’ve been doing this a long time ago.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Louis whispers against his neck.

“Twat.”

“Takes one to know one, love.”

“Shut up and kiss me, you fool.”

Louis laughs against his neck before he tilts his head up and their lips meet in a kiss. It’s not long before it turns almost desperate. Harry moans as Louis sucks his lower lip into his mouth, letting his teeth graze it.

Harry wraps both of his arms around Louis’ neck, tugging him closer. Louis settles his thighs on either side of Harry, breaking the kiss.

“Is this okay?”

“Louis.”

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer. “I want us to do this together, you know. So,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Is this okay?”

Harry smiles up at him, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, s’okay. More than okay, actually.”

Their lips meet in an urgent kiss. Harry is the first to deepen the kiss, earning a moan from Louis in response. Harry rolls his hips up at the same time as Louis shifts a little on top of him, and he feels Harry’s cock brush against his through two layers of denim, moaning at the friction it causes. He’s pretty sure there are stars behind his eyelids.

Harry lets out a loud moan. Louis trails kisses down his jaw as he thrusts his hips down experimentally, his fingers tangling in his curls. When he tugs a little, Harry’s moans grow louder, and Louis makes a note to file it away for future reference.

“Lou,” Harry moans against his lips.

Harry rolls his hips up sharply against him just as Louis thrusts down, making both of them moan loudly into the otherwise silent room. Louis is thankful they made the decision to go to Harry’s empty house, not knowing how he would’ve been able to restrain himself otherwise.

Louis slots a leg between Harry’s thighs and hitches one of his legs up around his waist, making their cocks brush against each other at an even better angle. Harry’s hands scramble for purchase along his back, bunching the fabric of Louis’ sweater in his hands and mumbling “off” against Louis’ lips.

Louis leans back far enough to remove his sweater, closely followed by Harry’s. He gets up off the bed long enough to remove his own jeans before he crawls across the bed again and pats Harry’s hip as a signal for him to lift his hips. Louis eases him out of his jeans and throws them across the room. Harry laughs as he sees where his jeans end up, thrown over his television screen.

By now, they’re both only in their boxers as they rut against each other, moaning into each other’s mouths. Louis tugs harder on Harry’s hair this time, smirking when it makes him roll his hips up towards him.

“Hair-pulling does it for you, then?” he teases.

“Shut up.”

Harry wraps his arms around his neck and tugs him down for a kiss. There’s no real finesse in it, just plain urgency and desperation. It’s perfect. Harry moans as Louis kisses him as if his life depends on it. He deepens the kiss as he thrusts down, Harry meeting him with a roll of his hips each time.

“’m close,” Harry mumbles against his lips, his teeth dragging across Louis’ bottom lip.

As Louis tugs on his hair once more, Harry’s hands make their way down his back to the swell of his arse, pushing him almost impossibly closer. Louis breaks the kiss and moves his lips to Harry’s neck, sucking a hickey into the skin right below his pulse point. Harry tilts his neck to give him better access, giving himself over to him completely as Louis’ thrusts slowly grow more uncoordinated and messy.

“Mine,” Louis all but crowls.

“Yours,” Harry breathes.

Louis sneaks a hand in between them and palms Harry through his boxers, his lips moving down to leave another hickey near his collarbones before moving lower to press kisses across his chest.

“Louis,” Harry moans.

“Come for me, H,” he murmurs.

“Up, up, up,” Harry pants, grabbing his arse once more. “Kiss me.”

Louis complies easily, surging up to meet his lips in a frantic kiss. He drags his thumb along the head of Harry’s cock through his boxers, and he feels Harry coming against his hand. He kisses him through it as he thrusts down once, twice, three more times before he comes, too, moaning into the kiss.

Louis smiles down at him before kissing him softly, letting his lips linger. Harry lazily returns the smile as he lets his arms fall to his sides. Louis places his hand on top of Harry’s, matching them up before shifting slowly and tangling their fingers together. He lifts their interlaced hands and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re mesmerizing,” he murmurs, dropping their hands and moving his lips to Harry’s cheek, brushing a kiss against it.

“You’re breathtaking.” Another kiss, to the corner of his mouth.

He moves lower, pressing a kiss right above his rapidly beating heart. “You’re mine.”

Harry wraps his arms around him before pressing a kiss into his hair. “Yours,” he whispers into the stillness of the room. A beat, and then, “And you’re mine.”

Later that night, they sit pressed close together on the roof, Louis’ arm wrapped around him, and Harry tucked closely into his side. Louis brushes circles against the fabric of Harry’s sweater with his thumb as he feels the tip of Harry’s nose drag against his neck.

“Hey,” Harry murmurs into the skin on his neck.

“Hm?”

Harry looks up at him, biting his lower lip before smiling softly.

“I love you.”

Louis can’t help the fond smile that spreads across his features, his heart threatening to beat through his chest with the love he feels for his boy.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs before pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

They’re all at Niall’s a few days later for a party. When he tells them that the unofficial reason is celebrate that Louis and Harry finally got their shit together, it takes one look at each other for Louis and Harry to start laughing.

“You just want an excuse to get drunk, my dear Nialler.”

“You have such low thoughts of me, Louis.”

A while later, Louis is standing talking to Zayn while he watches Harry laughing with Niall across the room. Warmth spreads through his chest, and suddenly him being on the other side of the room is much too far away.

“Boyfriend!” he shouts over the music, smiling when Harry’s attention instantly shifts to him, his head snapping up.

Harry smiles as he walks over to him, letting Louis wrap an arm around his waist, his own draping across Louis’ shoulders.

“Boyfriend, hm?”

“Yes.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Good.”

They both lean in for a kiss at the same time, meeting halfway. They’re smiling too much for it to be much of an actual kiss, just lips pressed against lips.

“Love you,” Harry murmurs against his lips when they break apart.

“Love you, too.”

Behind them, Niall has come up to join Zayn and Liam, making gagging noises at them. Louis gives them the finger as he kisses his boy once more.

That night, Harry drags his fingertips along the one and only and please on his leather-bound notebook and tells Louis that he wrote it about him.

“I want you to be my one and only,” Louis says quietly, enclosing his hand over Harry’s and drags their interlaced hands over the letters.

“I’m so in love with you,” Harry breathes.

Louis smiles down at him, his expression soft and full of fondness.

“Me, too.”

The day after the party is the second time that Jay finds them in bed together, this time accompanied by Anne. Louis wakes up with Harry’s back flush against his chest, their legs tangled together under the covers, his toes tucked in between Harry’s calves.

“So, boys,” he hears his mum say.

Maybe if he closes his eyes long enough they’ll go away.

“This is becoming a habit, it seems.”

Didn’t work, obviously.

“Do you think I can still blame it on sleepwalking?” Louis stage whispers, making Harry snort.

He’s pretty sure he can feel his mum rolling her eyes at him.

“Get dressed and meet us downstairs, yeah?” Anne says.

“What makes you think we’re not-“ Louis begins, only to be interrupted by his mum.

“Louis. Downstairs, ten minutes.”

When they’ve left, Louis presses a kiss to the back of his neck before getting up. He shamelessly stares at his boyfriend as he puts on a sweater that’s Louis’, along with a pair of black skinny jeans.

“Appreciating the view?”

“Definitely,” Louis smirks.

Harry tosses one of his own sweaters at him. They both have a thing for wearing each other’s clothes. Louis admitted one night that he liked it when he could still smell Harry on him, and Harry had murmured a me, too against his lips before kissing him senseless.

When they’re both dressed, they walk down the stairs hand in hand. He rests his hand on Harry’s thigh when they sit down at the kitchen table, his thumb brushing in circles over his knee. His mum looks between the two of them, a small smile playing on her lips.

“So,” Jay begins. “You two are obviously…” she trails off, waiting for them to fill in the rest.

“Boyfriends,” Louis smiles, letting it grow even wider when Harry encloses his hand over Louis’. “Harry’s my boyfriend.”

“I have to tell you, I had a feeling this day would come sooner or later,” Anne says, grinning.

“Mum.”

The conversation that follows is one that Louis wishes he could forget, but will most likely haunt him forever. He watches as his mum and Anne talk about being responsible and using protection. With every word, he can see Harry’s cheek flushing a darker shade of red, a shade that most definitely matches the blush on his own cheeks. It feels like they’re ticking off every single embarrassing thing they could possibly think of talking to them about of a list. Louis thinks it’s probably neverending.

“Yes, mum, we know,” he says eventually, squeezing Harry’s thigh.

“One more thing, boys,” Anne says when they’re all standing up. “We’re both very happy for you.”

Anne and Jay corner them into a group hug in the kitchen, and Louis thinks that yeah, they do have the best mums in the entire world.

The first time that they talk about moving in together, Louis has just finished college. It’s a warm late summer’s day in the beginning of August. Louis stands on his driveway, rocking impatiently on his heels as he waits for Harry to come back from visiting some relatives, having left a couple of days after Louis’ graduation. They’ve been texting back and forth constantly, but Louis still misses him, misses the warmth of his body and the feeling of having Harry right next to him.

After a few minutes, he sees the familiar car coming down the street, and rolling up the driveway. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his features. When Harry steps out of the car and instantly looks his way, he smiles even wider. He knows that Harry’s missed him just as much as he’s missed Harry, but the reassurance still feels nice.

When Harry is only a couple of meters away from him, Louis leaps. He closes the last bit of distance between them and flings himself into Harry’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. Harry holds him up with a steady arm underneath his thigh, the other wrapped tightly around his back.

“Hi,” Louis breathes, pulling away long enough to see Harry’s face.

“Lou,” Harry murmurs, tilting his head up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Welcome home.”

Later that day, Louis is lying on his bed while Harry stands in the middle of the room, seeming deep in thought.

“Were you planning on joining me anytime soon, love?”

“Whose bed do you think we’ll bring when we move in together?” Harry asks.

“Yours,” Louis answers without hesitation. “It creaks less. Then we’ll buy a new one and yours can become a spare.”

Louis smiles softly at Harry’s expression, the softness of his smile and the sparkle in his eyes. He gets up from the bed with a soft smile, and comes up to stand behind him. Louis wraps his arms around his waist from behind, standing up on his tiptoes to hook his chin over his shoulder.

“We should look into flats in London,” Harry murmurs, his own hands coming to rest on top of Louis’ where they’re resting on his stomach, interlacing their fingers.

“London sounds nice.”

“Or somewhere that’s cheaper if we can’t afford it.”

Louis smiles as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Anywhere with you would be nice.”

--

On Louis’ 19^th birthday, Harry surprises him with a set of keys for a one-bedroom flat on the fourth floor of an old flat building relatively near the center of London. They had been on a viewing of it together a few weeks prior, both of them falling instantly in love with the hardwood floors and the creaky ceilings. Louis all but had to drag Harry away from the kitchen. The living room was small and the bedroom was in desperate need of repainting, but they had both loved it. Louis had taken one look at Harry and known instantly that he could imagine them living here the same way that he could. He saw Harry cooking in the kitchen, saw himself sitting on the counter and watching him. He could see himself in the kitchen on a late night making them both a cup of tea before bringing it into the living room and curling up next to his boy. He He saw them relaxing in the living room, saw the two of them sharing a shower, standing close together in the small tub. He saw himself waking up next to Harry in the small bedroom, in a bed that’s theirs, and he saw them falling sleep wrapped up in each other.

He saw them coming home to each other here every single day.

The landlord had told them that there were many other people interested in it though, so Louis had been sure that they wouldn’t get it. They’d both agreed to keep looking for other options, filed that one flat away as something that was nice, but much too good to be true.

Until today, when Harry stands before him with two small silver keys in his outstretched hand, his smile blinding as he looks at Louis.

“We got it?”

“We did.”

“It’s ours,” Louis says quietly, his finger running along the edge of one of the keys.

“Ours,” Harry echoes before his words are drowned by Louis capturing his lips in a kiss.

Harry has no trouble finding a school relative close to their flat to finish his GCSEs. Moving, however, turns out to be more exhausting than either of them had expected. After a hellish day dragging boxes up the flights of stairs, Louis’ entire body is aching and his clothes are clinging to him, his hair sticking to his forehead.

When they’re finished carrying all the boxes and the few pieces of furniture they have inside the flat, Harry takes Louis by the hand and leads him out into the hallway. Louis is just about to protest when Harry brings his hand to Louis’ mouth, cutting him off.

“Let me do this, yeah?”

Louis just looks at him, a confused expression on his face. Harry smirks before he crouches down and lifts Louis up, carefully hoisting him up over his shoulder.

“Haz,” Louis cries out.

“’s not done properly before you’re carried over the threshold, right?”

“That’s for weddings, you twat.”

Harry just laughs, loud and deep, as he carries Louis over his shoulder inside their new apartment. Louis retaliates by pinching Harry’s bum before he shuts the door behind them. Harry’s still laughing as he carefully crouches and puts Louis down.

“You’re an idiot,” Louis murmurs, his voice full of fondness.

“Probably,” Harry shrugs, smiling.

Harry closes the last bit of distance between them and wraps his arms around Louis’ neck, who in turn wraps his arms around Harry’s waist. He smiles when Harry brings their lips together in a quick kiss.

“Lou?” Harry asks, brushing their noses together.

“Hm?” Louis hums, chasing his lips for another kiss.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs against his lips.

Louis’ breath hitches in his throat. He feels consumed with the love he feels for this beautiful, beautiful boy. Most of the time he can’t believe that Harry is actually his. It feels surreal, in a way, standing here with him in their flat, and yet Louis knows without the shadow of a doubt that this is where they were meant to end up, one way or another.

“Welcome home, Hazza,” he echoes softly.

Harry kisses him once more. The moon outside shines in through the windows, casting shadows across the flat. Louis knows they have so much left to do before calling it a night, but for now he just needs to hold his boy in his arms, and be held by him in return.

On his eighteenth birthday, Harry gets his first tattoo done, a star on his left bicep. Louis sits next to him as the tattoo artist works, Harry’s hand firm in his own. Not for the sake of comfort, but simply just for the sake of being there. He’s never considered getting tattoos himself, but as he watches as the star gradually takes shape on Harry’s skin, an idea slowly starts to take shape in his mind.

Louis runs his thumb over Harry’s second tattoo, stares at the Hi that he recently got, at the first word Louis ever said to him that’s now permanently inked into his skin. When he tells Harry about his idea for them to get complementary tattoos, he’s met with an I’ve thought about it, too whispered against his lips before Harry all but tackles him down on the bed.

When Harry goes to get another tattoo a few of weeks later, Louis gets Oops! done in Harry’s handwriting on his right arm. Harry seemingly can’t stop looking at the small tattoo, much like Louis had been unable to tear his eyes away from Harry’s Hi after he first got it.

“Do you want to get more done?” Harry asks him one night, his fingers brushing across Louis’ tattoo.

“Yeah,” Louis answers without hesitation. “You should show me some of those couples’ tattoos you looked up.”

Harry beams at him, his eyes full of love and fondness. Louis wishes that Harry will always look at him like he does right in this moment.

They have their first big fight as a couple a month later, about something stupid that Louis can’t even recall what it’s about when they stand in the kitchen arguing. They know each other’s pressure points by heart, knows exactly how to twist the knife to make it hurt the most. It ends in Louis slamming the door shut, leaving Harry in the middle of the living room, staring after him. He can’t bear to see his hurt stare directed at him.

He regrets leaving the second he’s out the door.

He sits on the stairs outside the building for what feels like forever, but what in reality is not even a couple of hours. He thinks through the events of the night, thinks through the words that were said and he realizes in instant that he’s nowhere near where he’s supposed to be.

He walks up the stairs, more determination in his steps than he actually possesses. Quietly, he opens the door to their flat, toeing off his shoes in the tiny hallway. He finds Harry curled up on their bed, making himself smaller. Harry doesn’t even look up as Louis walks into the room, and Louis’ heart aches in his chest.

“Haz,” he says quietly, kneeling down next to the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“’m sorry, too,” Harry murmurs, fixing his gaze on him.

“I’m a twat.”

“You are. So am I, though, ‘s okay.”

“I’m sorry for walking out on you.”

“I’m sorry for making you.”

“Harry,” he says, his voice almost breaking.

Harry reaches his hand out, and Louis squeezes it in his own. Louis gets into bed next to him, releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding when Harry wraps his arms around him, pulling him as close as possible.

“I love you,” Louis says before kissing Harry’s temple. He never feels like he says it enough.

“I love you, too, Lou.”

Louis shifts them on the bed to get more comfortable, keeping one arm wrapped around Harry’s waist and the other above his head, his fingers playing with the springy parts of his hair.

“Are we okay?” Harry murmurs against the skin of Louis’ neck, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss there.

Louis doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re okay.”

Later that night, they start talking about tattoos again, hushed whispers in the darkness of their bedroom as they lie tangled together.

“I was thinking about getting a ship.”

“A ship?” Louis asks.

“I looked up these nautical themed tattoos, y’know? And I really liked them. There are several different ones, so if we’d want to we could keep adding to them. I was thinking that… No matter what happens, I’m homeward bound. Because you’re my home. And a ship only works with a compass, yeah? Without one, a ship can’t steer in the right direction. So if I’m a ship that’s homeward bound, you’re the compass that guides me home.”

“You,” Louis begins, his voice thick with emotion, “are such a sap.”

“You love me, though.”

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

Harry fondly rolls his eyes. “Right. It’s not like you have a tattoo in my handwriting or anything.”

“It’s Helvetica, actually.”

The remark earns Louis a punch in the shoulder.

“Stop talking, you’re ruining the moment.”

“Oi, Ha-“

Harry cuts him off with a kiss. Only because it’s the most efficient way, of course.

“So,” Louis says when they break apart. “Ship and compass?”

Harry smiles at him, his dimple appearing in his left cheek. Louis leans in and presses a kiss to it, earning him a giggle from Harry in response.

“You like it?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Yeah, I love it.”

“I love you.”

“Sap.”

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

Louis kisses the stupid smirk right off his face.

They get the tattoos a couple of days after first talking about them. Louis watches in awe as the ship takes shape on Harry’s upper arm, not once forgetting what it means. When it’s Louis’ turn, Harry takes his hand in his own and brushes kisses to his knuckles. When Louis tells the tattoo artist that he wants the compass to point home instead of north, Harry murmurs I love you and You’re my home and Always into his skin, punctuating each sentence with a kiss, sealing them like a promise.

They go to Holmes Chapel a few days later to visit their families. Anne and Jay organize a dinner for all of them, bringing together two large tables as one so they can all sit together. It’s… lovely. Louis has always loved Harry’s family as his own, and seeing them all together like this makes him think of spending Christmases and other holidays like days. The thought makes him smile and warmth spread through his chest. He squeezes Harry’s knee under the table, and he can see in Harry’s eyes that his mind is wandering down a similar path. Harry covers Louis’ hand with his own, interlacing their fingers. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Anne smiling at them as he leans in to press a kiss to Harry’s temple.

After dinner, Anne and Jay take care of the dishes. Harry tries to offer his help, but he’s shooed away by both of them. Louis and Harry pad into the living room, sitting down on the sofa. Harry settles down between Louis’ legs, his back pressed against Louis’ chest. Louis nuzzles his nose into Harry’s neck as he wraps his arms around his middle, smiling when Harry rests his hand on Louis’ knee, his thumb brushing across the seam of his jeans.

Harry absentmindedly flicks through the channels of the telly, stopping when he comes to one that’s showing Grease. Louis laughs quietly into Harry’s hair before shifting his attention to the film.

“Do you remember,” Harry says slowly, “when you were Danny Zuko when they put this up in school?”

“’Course I remember. I nailed it.”

Harry laughs, pinching his knee. “You were, but that’s not what I meant.”

“You read lines with me. I think you memorized it better than I did in the end.”

“Probably. We sang the songs together too, remember? You sat on the roof singing Sandy at the top of your lungs so loud that you woke up my mum at two in the morning.”

“I sang Harry instead of Sandy, though.”

“Which is why my mum was worried that I’d gained a stalker.”

Louis laughs. “Remember how we sang the other songs together, too? We did this ridiculous take on Summer Nights in school, and Zayn and Liam and Niall did the back-up parts. I laughed for months after just remembering that.”

Harry laughs, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Louis’ neck. “I loved that. ‘s still not what I meant when I asked if you remember, though.”

“Then do tell, dear Harold.”

“The best part, for me, was when we sang You’re the one that I want in your room, remember? Complete with the dance routine and everything.”

“Of course I remember that,” Louis says, his voice going softer before he continues, “That’s my favourite part about it, too.”

Harry presses a kiss to his pulse point before breaking out of Louis’ embrace, giving his knee a squeeze before getting up off the sofa.

“Good, because we’re going to reenact it.”

Louis laughs as Harry takes his hand and pulls him up, just as Danny’s jaw drops on the television screen when he sees Sandy at the carnival.

“Our mums are never going to let us live this down, you are aware of that, right?”

“I don’t care. Now,” Harry says, dropping his voice, “Tell me about it, stud.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Styles,” Louis laughs.

Harry just smiles as Louis starts to sing. Louis can’t take his eyes off him as they dance around the living room. Harry spins around to face him as Olivia sings about needing a man, pressing a finger into his chest. Louis goes off script and brings Harry’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his finger before dropping it. Harry walks backwards, his eyes not leaving Louis’ once. When the song comes to an end, Louis takes Harry’s hand in his own and twirls him around before wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him flush against him.

“You’re the one that I want,” Harry sings with against Louis’ lips with a bright smile on his face, and Louis’ heart feels like it grows about ten sizes in his chest.

“I,” Louis breathes, “am so bloody in love with you.”

Harry beams at him before singing, “We go together like-“

“Harry. Don’t.”

“Rama lama lama ka dinga da ding-“

Louis does the only sensible thing to do, really. He guides them both until Harry’s knees hit the sofa, pulling them both down on it. With a mischievous smirk playing across his lips, he starts tickling him, his fingers travelling up and down his sides.

“Lou,” Harry gets out in between the laughter. “Stop it, you twat.”

“Nope.”

“Can’t- breathe.”

Louis just laughs as his fingers dance along Harry’s ribs. Harry squirms beneath him, laughing so hard that Louis sees tears in the corners of his eyes. Louis doesn’t stop the movement of his hands, travelling them up to his armpits before trailing down to his ribs once more.

“Louis,” Harry breathes. “Stop it.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, love.”

“I’ll withhold blowjobs.”

Louis stops abruptly. Harry laughs even harder.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Catching Louis off guard, Harry hoists himself up by his arms and somehow manages to throw both of them off balance enough to make them fall onto the floor. Louis groans loudly, while Harry continues laughing above him.

“’s not fair of you to wound my best asset, Haz.”

“All is far and love and war, babe.”

“Y’know,” Louis says, a wicked grin suddenly playing across his lips. “I’m going to need you to kiss it better later.”

“Hm,” Harry hums. “I might be able to do that.”

Louis smiles as Harry leans down to kiss him. Harry deepens the kiss as Louis tangles his fingers in his hair. Louis’ hand is just trailing down Harry’s back down to his bum when they hear two people loudly clearing their throats above them.

“Hi, mum,” Harry says, his voice somewhat hoarse, his lips swollen from the kiss.

Anne and Jay watch them with smiles across their features as they watch Louis and Harry get up off the floor.

“You two boys having fun, then?” Jay asks, still smiling.

“Mum.”

“I was thinking about making apple pie for dessert,” Harry says, not-so-subtly changing the subject.

“Harry, that’s not necessary,” his mum says.

“Mum, you and Jay made dinner so it’s only fair, really. Besides, it won’t take long. I think I saw some vanilla ice cream in the freezer earlier, too. It’ll be perfect.”

“There’s no way I can convince you, is there?”

“Not a chance,” Harry says with a smile. “C’mon, Lou, help me in the kitchen.”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” Louis asks.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I doubt you’ll be able to demolish the kitchen just by sitting on the counter and watching me bake, Lou.”

“You never know.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Louis laughs as Harry takes his hand in his own, leading them towards the kitchen. Neither of them see the knowing, small smiles Jay and Anne exchange as they watch them walk away.

Later that night, Louis walks into the living room to find his mum, Anne and Harry. Anne and his mum are sitting on the couch, whereas Harry is curled up in an armchair, his mouth slightly open as he snores lightly. Louis smiles softly at the sight before crouching down next to the armchair. He’d rather not wake him up when he looks this peaceful, but he also knows that his back will kill him tomorrow if he sleeps in that position all night. He reaches his hand out and lightly brushes a stray lock of hair away from his forehead before pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Haz,” he says quietly against his skin. “Let’s get you to bed, love.”

“What time ‘s it?” Harry mumbles, barely drifting out of sleep.

“Bed time.”

Louis helps Harry up and holds him steady by the waist. Harry drops his head to rest it against Louis’ shoulder, smacking his lips and letting out a contented hum before nuzzling into Louis’ neck, his eyes closed. Louis can’t help the fond smile that spreads across his features.

“Goodnight, boys,” Anne says, smiling softly, watching the two of them. Louis had almost forgotten that they were in the room with them.

“Sleep well, yeah?” Jay says, her smile matching Anne’s.

“G’night,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ neck suddenly, making Louis laugh quietly into the stillness of the room.

“Goodnight, mum, Anne. Don’t let the bed bugs bite and all that.”

Louis shoots them a smile before he trails off towards the stairs with Harry, his arm steady around his waist as he snuffles quietly, mumbling sleepily into the fabric of his sweater. If Louis were to turn around, he’d see Anne and Jay exchanging another knowing smile before turning their attention to the telly.

“You know,” Jay says the next day just as Louis and Harry are about to leave and head home, “Someone might easily mistake you two for being married when they watch you.”

“Mhm,” Anne agrees, “If I didn’t know better I’d think that Louis had already made an honest man out of you, Harry.”

Louis is unable to stop the fond expression that spreads across his features, remembering a whispered conversation in the stillness of their bedroom on a late Sunday night. It had consisted of I want to marry you and I want to call you my husband and taking Harry’s hand and pressing a kiss to his ring finger as Harry had murmured I like spouse better. Louis, unable to stop smiling, had squeezes Harry’s hand in his own before closing the distance between them to kiss him, murmuring Yes, future husband against his lips.

Louis looks up at Harry, smiling even wider when he sees the smile playing on his lips, his dimple appearing in his cheek.

“Oh I haven’t, but I intend to.”

“Don’t even think about eloping on us,” Anne says, trying to sound stern but the smile on her face giving her away, “If you deny me watching my only son get married, there’ll be hell to pay, Harry Styles.”

“Don’t worry, mum,” Harry says before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Louis heads out to put their bags in the car, giving Harry a moment alone with his mum. When he comes back, he holds the door open for him, smiling cheekily.

“Your chariot, awaits, future husband.”

“Why thank you, future spouse.”

Harry is unable to stop smiling as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his hand squeezing Louis’ arm.

“Where to, mister?”

“To the stars.”

Louis laughs before fondly rolling his eyes. “You, my dear, are such a sap.”

“Mhm,” Harry hums. “It’s a good thing I’m not the only one then, yeah?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry laughs before closing the distance between them once more, kissing him softly.

“Come on, babe. Let’s go home.”

It’s a rainy autumn’s day when Louis shows Harry the idea that’s been in his head for a while about another set of complementary tattoos for them; a rope and an anchor. His expression is soft as he explains why he wants them to have them, letting his thumb brush across the skin of Harry’s wrist as he murmurs about him being his anchor; that he’s the one thing that grounds him. That he makes him strong.

Harry’s smile is blinding as he tugs Louis closer, whispering yes, yes, yes against his lips before capturing them in a kiss.

They get them done the next day.

Louis knows that it won’t be the last set of complementary tattoos that they will get. They have already talked about some more ideas, and Louis had trailed his fingers up and down Harry’s bare skin one night as he watched him write them all down in his leather-bound notebook.

Their skin is going to be littered with ink, but underneath it all it will only ever spell out one thing: their names permanently inked into each other’s skin.

Living together proves to be even better than Louis had expected it to be in the beginning. He can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that makes it all so great. Maybe it’s waking up in the morning to the clatter of pans in the kitchen. He’ll pad out as quietly as possible on the hardwood floor, avoiding that one board that always creaks when walked on, and come up behind Harry to wrap his arms around his waist from behind and hook his chin over his shoulder. Harry will lean into the embrace before turning around to kiss him good morning, not caring about morning breath.

Or, maybe it’s in how Harry bats his hands away when Louis tries to steal some cookie dough or taste some of dinner before it’s finished. Maybe it’s in the way they make breakfast in bed a Sunday tradition. Perhaps there’s something about coming home to find Harry curled up on the couch, his textbooks having ended up on the floor when he’s fallen asleep studying. It could be in the way they’ll curl up together on the couch every single night, pressed together as close as physically possible. Harry’s fingers will draw invisible patterns and words into the fabric of Louis’ sweatpants, and Louis will run his fingers through Harry’s hair, smiling fondly when Harry leans into it, humming contentedly.

Perhaps it’s in the way they always fall asleep wrapped around each other, one way or another. Some nights, Harry is the big spoon, holding Louis close to him and pressing kisses to the nape of his neck as Louis enjoys the feeling of being encompassed by the warmth of his boy. Their legs will tangle together out of pure instinct, a constant need to be as close together as possible. Other nights, they’ll lie facing each other before Louis wraps his arms around him and Harry buries his nose in the junction between Louis’ neck and shoulder. It could also be in the way they’ll take baths together despite the tub barely fitting the two of them. Harry will lean back between Louis’ legs, smiling when Louis’ arms wrap around him instantly. When they share a bath, Louis takes his time washing Harry’s hair, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his shoulders and his neck as he massages his scalp, loving how pliant Harry goes beneath his touch. Perhaps it’s in the way their landlord never turns on their heating, so they spend the winter months clinging to each other even more than usual, tucking their feet under the other’s thighs and draping themselves over each other beneath layer upon layer of blankets in their bed. Maybe it’s in the way Louis loves doing things for Harry. He loves fixing the sleeves of Harry’s t-shirts, letting his fingers linger against the bare skin of his arm, and tucking his hair back behind his ear and trailing his fingers along his jaw. Even more than that, he loves the smile Harry will give him in return, one that is all soft and fond and one that Louis knows without a doubt matches his own. It might be in the way there’s not really anything that’s Harry’s or Louis’ anymore – it all becomes theirs. Their bed, their bills, their life together. It could be in the way they opt for wearing each other’s clothes more often than not. Louis loves being able to feel the scent of Harry’s cologne and the underlying scent that is just Harry, and it only takes a few weeks of living together for Louis to realize that Harry feels the same way about wearing Louis’ clothes.

Maybe it’s in the way they’ll order a fancy bottle of wine, only to drink it with take-out as they sit on the floor of their living room, practically in each other’s laps as they tell each other about their day and feel more adult than they actually are before breaking into uncontrollable giggles at penis jokes and remember that they’re probably not that adult, anyway.

Maybe it’s just Harry. Perhaps it’s in the way he’ll catch Harry watching him with a fond expression on his face that Louis knows matches the one that paints his own face when he watches Harry. Maybe it’s in how Harry knows him better than he knows himself, knows when he needs space and knows when he needs to be held so fiercely he doesn’t know where he ends and Harry begins.

Or, Louis thinks, maybe it’s simply in the way they fit together, slotting together like puzzle pieces. Louis’ fingers fit perfectly into the space between Harry’s, just as Harry’s tall and lanky figure makes Louis’ shorter and curvier one fit seamlessly into his side. Two halves of a whole.

An ‘Oops!” and a ‘Hi’.

A ship and its compass, always pointing to home no matter how rough the weather.

An anchor and its rope; steadying and offering safety. Home.

Them.

It’s a quiet Sunday morning in the middle of October. Outside the window, the rain is pouring down, the sound of the drops against the window ledge soothing. It’s been raining on and off for a couple of days in a row now. They’d both come home soaked down to their underwear the night before after heading to the pub with Zayn, Liam and Niall.

Harry smiles at the sight of his boy wrapped up in the covers as he walks into the bedroom carrying a small tray with two cups of tea and a plate of waffles with chocolate sauce. He sets the tray down quietly on the bedside table next to them before sitting down on the bed, letting his fingers gently run through Louis’ hair.

“Lou,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “Wake up.”

“No,” Louis mumbles with his eyes still closed, making Harry laugh.

“I see you’ve started talking in your sleep as well as sleepwalking, then,” he teases.

“You’re the one who does that, love.”

“It’s a good thing that you’re the only one who gets to hear it, then. Come on, stop hogging the covers, I’m freezing out here.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Louis' mouth as he opens his eyes. He sits up slowly, yawning as he runs a hand through his hair before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Waffles?” he asks with a glance at the tray, smiling. “Careful now, Curly. I might even start to think that you’re trying to seduce me.”

“I don’t need to try to seduce you,” Harry teases, a grin playing on his lips.

“Well,” Louis says, putting his index finger to his chin as if he’s pondering it all very seriously. “You do already have me in your bed. I suppose that’s a fair point.”

“Our bed.”

Harry smiles as he crawls into their bed, grabbing Louis by the neck and pulling him in for a languid kiss.

They drape the covers over the both of them, propping themselves up against the wall. Harry smiles when Louis tucks himself into his side, nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck. Louis hums contentedly as he breathes in the scent of his boy, before pressing a kiss right above his pulse point. Harry wraps his arm around Louis, pulling him impossibly closer before draping his leg over his.

They eat their breakfast slowly, trading sticky kisses tasting of chocolate and giggling into each other’s mouths. Harry lets his thumb drag over the bare skin of Louis’ shoulder, smiling when Louis sneaks his arm behind them to wrap it around Harry’s waist, letting his fingers draw invisible patters across his skin.

“Hey,” Louis says suddenly, his fingers stilling their movement.

“Hm?” Harry says, resting his head against Louis’.

“I forgot to tell you, my mum called the other day while you were in class. She knows we’ve started looking into other flats, and she said that she might have something for us.”

“Oh?” Harry asks, his smile growing wider.

“So she has this friend of hers, yeah? And she has a daughter who’s graduating from uni in July. She’s like, really smart and at the top of her class, apparently, so she’s already been offered a 2-year internship in Australia. Mum said that she’s accepted it, but she doesn’t want to give up her flat completely, y’know? So she’s been looking for people who would be interested in leasing it during the time she’s away.”

“Where’s it at?”

“It’s a one-bedroom flat in the outskirts of London. Mum hasn’t been there, but apparently it’s really nice. Who knows, it might even have proper heating. Which would be a shame, really. I quite fancied having a convenient excuse for a cuddle.”

“As if you need an excuse,” Harry scoffs, pressing a kiss to Louis’ temple.

“The girl wants to get everything settled as soon as possible, so we’d have to make up our minds fast. Mum gave us her number in case we’d be interested.”

“Hm,” Harry says, running his fingers down Louis’ arm. “A one-bedroom flat is a bit small though, innit? We wouldn’t want to get kids while still living in one.”

They’ve talked about this before, so it’s no surprise to Louis, but the mention of kids still makes his heart clench and the familiar feeling of longing set in his stomach. They’ve had multiple conversations about their future in this very bed; murmurings about their wedding, baby names, if they’d want to adopt or use a surrogate, where they want to live, if they want a detached house or a townhouse, and even more topics beyond that. He’s known for a long time that he and Harry are on the same page when it comes to them; knows that they want everything together, but the reminder still makes warmth spread through his chest.

Louis smiles up at him, brushing their noses together.

“Yeah, it does seem a bit small, doesn’t it?”

“I mean,” Harry continues, squeezing Louis’ arm, “We both know that we’re not ready yet, but I always thought that our next flat would at least have two bedrooms, y’know? So we’d keep our options open.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Louis says, smiling before kissing him softly. “I’ll tell my mum the next time she phones in. Knowing her, it won’t be long.”

“My mum was talking about getting Charlotte to babysit and having a girl’s night with your mum last time she called.”

“Oh god.”

Harry laughs. “It’s sweet that they get along so well. I know my mum considers Jay her best friend, and I think it’s quite mutual knowing your mum.”

“Yeah, ‘course it’s sweet.”

Louis is glad that his mum has Anne. He tries to check up on her as often as possible, just to see that she’s okay and to ease some of his own worry. He’d feared that separating from Mark would destroy her, having already gone through one separation, but if anything Louis thinks that it has only served to strengthen her. He thinks part of the reason that she’s handled it so well is because of Anne, and he makes a mental note to hug her a little tighter than usual the next time they visit them.

“Hey,” Harry says, gently nudging their foreheads together. “Where’d you go?”

Louis shrugs, a soft smile on his lips. “I was just thinking. My mum’s really lucky to have Anne, you know.”

“Better not think too much, I think I can smell something burning in the distance.”

“Twat.”

Harry squeezes Louis’ arm, his voice softer as he starts speaking. “I know she is. Mine is, too.”

They sit in a comfortable silence after that, just reveling in the feeling of being pressed close to each other. With a soft smile, Louis takes Harry’s hand in his own, letting his thumb brush across the anchor tattoo on his wrist, the permanent symbol of the fact that Harry is his safety. He knows that they have nothing planned for today, no cleaning to be done, essays that are due tomorrow, nothing. He thinks staying in bed all day with his favorite boy sounds like a good plan.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, smiling softly.

Louis looks up at him, not realizing that he’d voiced his thoughts out loud. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Harry cups his hand around Louis’ neck to pull him in for a kiss. Louis smiles into it, pressing his fingers into Harry’s side. They kiss languidly, like they have all the time in the world. When they break apart, Louis realizes that they actually do, thinks not for the first time about how he is the luckiest person in the world because he gets to spend his life with his beautiful, lovely boy right next to him, and kisses him once more.

He stares at Harry when they break apart from the kiss, at the boy that he has loved since he was twelve, the boy he’s known he’s in love with since he was sixteen years old. He’s known, ever since then, that being in love with him is not something that fades over time; it only intensifies. He’s more in love with him than ever in this very moment, and yet he knows that if you were to ask him in five minutes’ time, he’d say that he’s never been more in love with him than in that moment.

“Two years would’ve been an awfully long time for you to put up with me,” Louis says, his expression fond and his voice teasing. “Think you would have managed it?”

“I would think,” Harry says, unable to stop the smile that’s spreading across the features, “that these,” gesturing towards the ship and the Hi on his upper arm before trailing his fingers across the anchor on his wrist, “would indicate that I’m actually intending on keeping you around for a lot longer than that.”

“Oh yeah? How long, exactly?”

“Depends,” Harry shrugs. “Three years, maybe? Four, tops.”

“Twat.”

“You love it.”

“What about five years, six, maybe? Or perhaps seven and a half? I have been told that I have some excellent skills that I would happily put to use. As a thank you for you putting up with me, of course.”

“Idiot.”

Harry laughs, pulling Louis in for a lingering kiss.

“I was thinking,” he murmurs against Louis’ lips, “about forever. That sound good enough for you?”

“Forever, yeah?”

“Forever,” he says once more. It sounds like a promise.

“Forever,” Louis echoes.

He seals the promise with a kiss.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback and kudos, if you liked it, brighten my day and mean a lot to me. I'm styleztomlinson on tumblr too, in case you want to come say hi.

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