1999

A red Ferrari drove through the streets of London, burning rubber on every corner. People on the streets stopped and stared at Louis as he drove by. He couldn’t see what was ahead, what surprises lay behind each new corner, but he was going fast and he felt alive. Could life be any better?

“Louuuuu! Put down your cars and get downstairs! It’s time to go to the Bluebell Wood spring gala!”

Yes, it could. It could have been real.

Louis’ dear mother stood at the bottom of the staircase, hands on her hips, looking frazzled and impatient. Louis, sitting in his pile of toy race cars and trucks, could care less, but her voice was ruining his concentration. His red car was about to overtake his blue, one in each hand, head to head around the slick toy set. As the red car passed the finish line he set them both down. Looking through the bannister to where his mother stood downstairs, he decided that maybe he could humor her and do what she said, just this once.

At least that was what he told himself as he stood up and ran down the stairs. He did love his mum very much and even if her schedule quite frequently was in conflict with his own, he did like making her happy by following her orders. Of course once he reached her she fussed over his wrinkled suit and messed up hair, but because he loved her he could look presentable for her big event.

The little family piled into their new black car and quickly sped down the gravel driveway and out the gates. Louis looked out his window at their house as they left. They had recently moved in, just after his mum had married Mark, and he was still getting used to how giant it was. Coming from a small apartment with just him and his mum, the new house was right out of a fairytale. It was as big as all the castles he read about in his storybooks, and they even had a few servants to go with it, too. The house staff, plus the addition of Mark and now Lottie to his family, made Louis’ life very interesting.

Lottie was situated in her car seat next to him, eyes wide open and shining in the morning’s sunlight. Louis made faces at her, causing her to giggle and coo. She wasn’t even a year old yet but she was full of life and excitement. Louis couldn’t wait for her to grow up so he could have a playmate.

He hadn’t made many friends in the neighborhood yet, since his parents were still meeting the other families as well. As far as Louis could tell there the neighborhood had mostly just old rich couples whose children had long since moved away from home. At the gala today his parents were hoping to make more acquaintances with the local families and grow their social circle. Maybe there would be other kids Louis could become friends with, too.

After a few minutes driving they entered into a tunnel of trees and came out in an open lot in front of the large conservatory where the gala was being held. There were a lot of cars there already, bright, polished and in a word, expensive. Louis thought he had never seen so many beautiful new cars at once.

In the front seat Louis’ mum started to look apprehensive about meeting so many new people. Mark took her hand in his, comforting her saying, “Don’t worry, dear. They’re nice people, I’m sure and they will be excited to meet us. The Maliks will be here and we can find them first. You liked them when we met at the Christmas party.”

Louis had liked them, too. They had a son about his age, Zayn, and they had had a lot of fun running around whichever lord’s estate the Christmas party had been at. So he knew there would be at least one person he knew today. He started jumping up and down in his seat, accidentally rattling his sister next to him, the excitement buzzing in him.

After they had parked Louis swung open his door and ran outside. “Louis slow down!” he heard his mum call from the car. “You’re going to hurt someone!” But he wasn’t worried. If he ran into someone he would apologise like his mum practised with him and then carry on his way. Nothing to it.

So maybe he was half expecting it when he did run into someone, but he didn’t expect to run full on into someone even smaller than he was. They toppled over onto the gravel ground.

“Oops!”

“Hi.”

Maybe this little thing could keep his feet on the ground while his head soared in the clouds. He was brought low already.

The little brown-blonde-haired boy beneath him smiled cheek to cheek, seemingly not caring that his back was pressed to the ground and that his navy blue suit was becoming dirty. Louis momentarily forget his manners, mesmerized by the young boy’s bright green eyes and wide grin. He seemed to have found a friend, he thought to himself. Standing up after a moment Louis extended his hand and helped the other boy up.

“Louis Tomlinson,” he said, grinning. “Sorry about that.” But he didn’t sound sorry at all. He was still smiling and had a laugh in his voice.

“Harry Styles,” the boy replied. “It’s alright. Think my mum might be a little mad about the suit, but. . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Do you live around here?” Louis asked. He needed to know if this friendship would work.

“Yeah, other side of town by the park. Lots of trees and winding lanes.”

It sounded pretty much like where Louis’ new house was. “Great! We can be friends then.”

And that was that. They eventually met up with their respective parents, talking as they weaved through the legs of the adults about their favorite movies — they both agreed that Toy Story was exciting and were excited for the new one — and their families. Harry had an older sister, and he asked inquisitively what it was like having a younger sister. Louis was more than happy to talk all about little Lottie.

When they did find their parents they found they were all seated at the same table, with the Maliks, who were already friends with Louis’ parents; the Paynes, a nice couple with a few daughters and a young son, Liam; the Horans, who had a few sons, Greg and Niall; and of course the Styleses. All the young boys were assigned to sit near each other and they were happy to oblige — although after a few minutes together their parents realize what a grave mistake this was. Mischievous and adventurous within five minutes they had found a way to subtly exchange the salt with the sugar on the table. The glamourous gala may not have been going well for the parents, but for the five lads they could not be happier.

Louis was still enamored the most with Harry, whose shy charisma and green eyes drew him in. They were the chief plotters throughout the whole gala, the other three young lads their accomplices in all their plans. Things worked out surprisingly well, their small statures likely aiding in their ability to get away from accidents without notice. If a certain lord and lady fell into a fountain, well, no one could prove it was the work of the five lads.

By the end of the afternoon and all the boring speeches, auctions and performances had finished the five boys were inseparable. Their parents looked resigned to their fate of having the other children, and the trouble they would bring, in their lives. They all left with hugs among the children and polite handshakes among the adults.

Harry and Louis were the last ones to leave the scene. They stood staring at the destruction of the afternoon — a broken podium, a loose banner hanging from one pin and a man’s dripping coat left drying on a chair — with a sense of pride. Louis slung his arm around Harry’s shoulder and squeezed him close. “Well, Harold, I suppose it’s time to be off. I’ll see you soon!”

“Bye Lou!” Harry called after him. He waved goodbye, looking after Louis until he turned the corner to go back to the car park. Louis turned around once more and smiled big as he left his sight.

He couldn’t wait to see his green-eyed, rosy-cheeked, breath-of-fresh-air friend again.

* * *

2005

Louis sat at the table in the garden shade, eyes closed, enjoying the sunlight pouring through the green leaves above him. In the distance he could hear the droning sound of some woman’s speech about how much the foundation meant to her. He appreciated the foundation, of course, but as he got older these gala events wore him out. Or to be more truthful, they always had, but now the novelty had worn off. Christmas, spring and autumn; three times a year, three insufferable charity galas. He would much rather be at home playing footie with the other lads, not stuck in an itchy suit listening to speech after speech entreating the society people to donate even more than the previous year.

His consolation prize for attending the charity events was that he, Harry, Liam, Niall and Zayn now had their own table away from their parents, who after the first year realized that they could not be separated and maybe it was best to just leave them on their own — as far away from the other guests as possible. Their love for mischief did not dwindle with each year, however, and each year they cooked up more plots for causing as much havoc as they could without being caught. Their parents intuitively knew that the mic cutting in and out was the fault of their sons, but they couldn’t prove it, so after the second year they learned to turn a blind eye. No one had gotten injured yet, at least. Just harmless fun, that was all that the lads wanted to do, nothing too big.

“Louuuuu,” drawled a low voice next to him, stirring him from his increasingly incoherent thoughts about how to construct a catapult from twigs. He peeked open an eye and saw a green eye looking back at him. His mouth automatically curved up. Harry had that effect on him. Louis was slowly realizing what it meant.

“Yes, Haz?” he responded, both eyes now open. He sat up and noticed that Liam, Zayn and Niall had wandered off somewhere else.

“I’m bored,” Harry said simply. “Let’s go somewhere.”

So ten minutes later they found themselves in a dimly lit storage room after running into the mansion on the site, climbing hidden staircases and opening doors that really should have been locked. The room was large, full of vases, dusty bookshelves and stacks of tablecloths, and it was the perfect place for adventures. The two lads pretended to be pirates, then ninjas, and finally knights in King Arthur’s court.

It evolved after a while that Sir Harry, the bravest knight of the court, had been caught by the ruthless Lady Morgana and he was trapped in her magic castle (a pile of books they had set up in the shape of a castle fort). It was up to Louis to rescue him, but the treacherous lava and rocks (now wrinkled tablecloths and an assortment of vases) made his quest difficult. Finally Sir Louis made it to the castle and was reunited with the other knight.

“My hero!” Harry swooned, throwing his arms around Louis’ neck. He held him close, despite the stack of books between them.

“Anything for my princess,” Louis replied, blushing a little. He looked down at his feet and up at Harry again. There was something in his green eyes that had always captured him. He could never look away for long.

“Heyyyy,” Harry drawled, “I am a knight of the Round Table, not a princess.”

“Say what you want, you’ll always be my princess.”

Harry was blushing now, too. His arms were still around Louis’ neck.

Louis wanted to do something, he really did. He had wanted to for a while now, he thought, but he hadn’t known if he could. He had known Harry for six years now, inseparable best friends since the first day. But now he felt something more and he thought he knew what it was now. A cheer went up outside — probably some old lord and lady had pledged a large donation — and Louis had the confidence to do it.

Sometimes life is predictable: every action has a reaction, every act has a consequence. Sometimes you don’t know what the consequence is. In those times you have to act without thinking, take a chance, and hope for the best.

Amongst all the books and the dust, Harry’s green eyes captivated his inexperienced heart. Very quickly so he didn’t lose any of his resolve he closed the distance between their faces and gently pressed his lips against Harry’s.

The other boy gasped and pulled away fast, arms leaving Louis’ shoulders, which to Louis had begun to feel like a part of Louis’ body itself. “What are you doing?” he squealed. He looked scared, not necessarily angry, but uncertain. Louis didn’t feel any more certain himself.

“I don’t know,” he started, speaking slowly and gauging Harry’s reaction as he spoke, “just caught up in the moment . . . I guess?” Please don’t be angry, he prayed.

Harry continued to just stare at him in bewilderment. Louis had no clue what was passing through the younger boy’s mind. Take it slower.

“Erm,” Louis said after a pause, “Would you want me to kiss you again?”

Harry still just looked like he was in shock, but he blushed now. “Maybe?” He stepped back closer to Louis and tentatively put his hand on his face.

Louis took it as an encouraging sign. Once more he closed the gap between them and their lips touched. Harry didn’t pull away this time, just stood there breathing Louis in and Louis did the same. It felt like Louis imagined it would. Blood pulsed through his veins and fireworks flashed across his eyelids.

This was what he had been waiting for, probably since the moment they first crashed into each other. Harry and Louis; Louis and Harry. Not just Louis, and Harry; together, joined, a unit. He didn’t want this moment to end. It was bliss — excitement but also serenity.

They mutually pulled apart after a minute, both needing to breathe normally again. Louis smiled at Harry, looking at him through the hair falling in front of his eyes. Harry smiled shyly back at first, but then his smile faltered and finally fell.

Had he done something wrong? His excitement fading as his fear rose, Louis was suddenly worried.

“I have to go,” Harry said suddenly, jumping backward, away from Louis.

“Harry where are you going?” Louis yelled, genuinely concerned that Harry was hurt or . . . he didn’t even know what, but he was concerned. But Harry didn’t look back, he just ran out the door. Louis could hear his footsteps pounding down the rickety wooden stairs.

He sat down on the stack of books that had been the barrier between them only moments before. Now the barrier was a door and walls, and whatever walls Harry had put around his heart. He put his head in his hands and cried.

Half an hour later, when he finally came to his senses, he dried his eyes and found his way downstairs and outside. He saw Liam, Zayn and Niall sitting at their table again but Harry was nowhere around.

Niall saw him walking over and yelled, “Louis! Where’s Harry at?”

Louis stopped in his tracks. He had hoped they would be able to inform him. He hadn’t thought yet about what he would tell them had happened. He himself barely knew what happened. “You haven’t seen him?” he asked slowly.

The three others looked at each other confused. “Wasn’t he with you?” Liam said.

Louis sat down in his seat, slowly took a deep breath, and explained from the start what had transpired in the hours since Harry and Louis ran upstairs. He watched as his friends’ expressions went from confusion, to happiness, to shock — or triumph, on Niall’s part — then confusion again and finally bewilderment.

“Mate!” Niall exclaimed at the end of the tale, “just go find him and talk ta him! He’s probably just as confused as you are. But I know he must feel the same way. The way he looks at you, like you are the sun and he is the moon, basking in your light, that’s not normal. He loves you, mate.”

“He is awfully young though, don’t you think?” Liam prodded. “Maybe he just wasn’t ready yet?”

Zayn spoke now, “Maybe he didn’t even realize how he felt yet.”

Their various responses cheered and bewildered Louis in their own ways. “I would try to find him, but I thought he would be out here. There have got to be fifty rooms in that place, there’s no way I would find him without getting lost.” He put his head down on the table and tried to contain his tears.

The afternoon ended and Louis had still not seen another glimpse of Harry. Anne had came over after a while asking where Harry was, and Louis had just shrugged. His own parents came to fetch him eventually and he left without putting up a fight. On the way out to the car lot he might have knocked over a basket of flowers without realizing he had run into it.

* * *

2006

The day of the gala Louis faked being sick to stay home and Harry spent the day leaning on Gemma’s shoulder.

They had not spoken since the incident. Louis moved on to a new school and had that to keep him busy.

Zayn, Liam and Niall rotated between them, trying to get them to talk to each other. Louis was too proud and Harry was too scared.

Life went on.

* * *

2007

Louis’ parents forced him to attend the gala and Harry planned a trip to his grandparent’s home the same weekend.

Louis had spent most of the year playing footie with Zayn. He saw Niall occasionally, but he only saw Liam at other charity events with their families. He had picked Harry’s side.

“He needs the support more than you do,” he had told Louis. “You would understand if you just took your head out of your arse and bloody spoke to him.”

The truth was, Louis was afraid of being rejected again.

Life didn’t slow down, and he found new friends as he opened up more at school. In time the pain faded and hearing the name Harry — a previously problematic situation when Prince Harry was all over the news — didn’t send him into a state of shock or depression.

* * *

2008

“You can’t mope around all day, Lou.”

Louis did not answer.

“You need to go to the gala this year. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

He just groaned, face in his pillow.

Two hours and a lot of pulling, fussing and tugging at his sleeves later, Louis sat in the car with his family, on the way to the gala he had been trying to find an excuse to not go to all year. He had tried to schedule a football practice for the Sunday, but the coach was out of town seeing family. He had tried to form a study group for chemistry, but no one else wanted to give up their Sunday. He had tried to start a dog walking service, but his parents decided it wasn’t a safe career.

So there he was, in the corner of a crowded car making bitter comments to imaginary lords and ladies in his head, drowning in a suit his stepdad lent him because Louis had refused to get his own suits tailored in time.

“Ok, Lou, you don’t have to look like you’re going there to murder someone’s cat,” dear young Lottie said to him.

He rolled his eyes and continued looking out the window at the passing estates. “Not their cat, I wouldn’t be so cruel. But maybe their fish. Send it on to a better life, as it were. No use living in a stuffy home, harassed by maids and rambunctious kittens all day long anyway.”

That elicited a snort from the twins and he felt smug about himself. If nothing else, his bitterness over the last few years of his life had perfected his sense of humor. It’s what he was known for among his friends, as well as his teachers, coaches, and all other disciplinary figures. They told him so whenever he was in their office, for indecent outbursts and disrespectful conduct, their reports said.

But no matter what they said, it was the respect of his peers that he really counted on. At the King’s College School, even if he wasn’t the tallest or the strongest, he was known for being the loudest, and if he did say so himself, the coolest. Fans cheered his name during football games, and he had even garnered a few fans from their rival schools — including the one he knew Harry Styles was currently attending.

He didn’t like to think about Harry, but he suspected that he played more brutally when his school played against Harry’s. He had more to prove. But of course he couldn’t admit it aloud, even if Zayn raised his eyebrows at him whenever he accidentally kicked another player in the shin. Accidentally. Knowing that Harry was somewhere in the crowd watching, sitting with all his new friends from the oh so fancy Eton. . . . Sometimes things happened. Sometimes he was blinded with anger, or jealousy, or hurt. Life was a war and war had casualties.

“Louis! You are going to draw blood soon if you don’t take your nails out of your skin!” Lottie’s screech drew him out of his increasingly angry thoughts. Whoops.

They arrived at the familiar conservatory, the large glass flower museum that used to be a sign of joy for him, without further incidents. As he got out of the car he looked up at the conservatory, the garden and the mansion attached to it all, the place where he had led Harry when he was young and naive. He shook the thoughts from his head, determined not to let the site or the potential of seeing Harry affect him.

As they entered the garden he found the tables the teenagers were to sit at and waved his family goodbye. Some of his friends from school were supposed to be coming and he looked forward to the distraction they would bring. He was glad Zayn and Niall were at his school, but sometimes he missed Liam — even if he had defected for Harry’s side. He knew that each of their schools were their parents’ decisions but he felt that Liam might have convinced his parents to let him go to Eton with Harry.

Niall, a loud Irish bundle of sunshine and surprises, arrived first, running into Louis’ back and draping him in a warm hug. Zayn arrived a little while later, after Niall had calmed down and began scoping out girls at the other tables. He walked with a cool, collected demeanor that Louis was always jealous of. Adults always went up to Zayn and his parents and told him how much they respected him. Louis suspected it was because he was never caught on the scene of trouble like Louis and Niall always were.

When Liam entered the garden Louis inhaled and steeled himself. He knew that if Harry were truly coming today, he would be following closely behind. A part of him wanted to see Harry, to reassure himself that the boy he had once been best friends with, still existed.

But he still wasn’t prepared for the sight of the butterscotch curls bouncing up and down or the cherub-faced boy beneath them. Louis had to look away quickly when Harry walked into the garden or he would never be able to stop himself. He had a reputation to uphold, and that reputation said that he was not interested in the lives of the boys from Eton. He thanked God that Liam, Harry and their new friends were sat at a table far away from him.

It was a strange feeling to see Harry again. Except for a few glimpses of his face in the stands at sporting events, when Louis was usually playing on the field, he had not been so near to Harry since the kiss three years ago. Louis couldn’t believe it had been that long since they’d seen each other. He figured that’s what life was like, you find some people to love for a short time, then you have to move on when they do. Even if you don’t want to.

At one point during the gala out of the corner of his eye Louis saw Harry stand and began walking towards their direction. He watched his movements discreetly, still facing ahead to pay attention to the current speaker, but when he blinked Harry had turned around and was walking back to his table. He wondered what it was all about.

Maybe it was because he was maturing — hah — or maybe he was just not feeling right, seeing Harry in close proximity for the first time in a few years, but he didn’t feel like causing trouble today. Zayn watched him closely, as if making sure he wouldn’t self-combust in sudden flames, and he even saw Niall glance over, concerned, every few minutes when he wasn’t using his characteristic charm on the blonde at the table next to them.

After they had eaten and the auctioning began, Zayn whispered to him, “Want to take a walk?”

Louis really appreciated Zayn sometimes. Or most of the time. In moments like this when Louis didn’t even know what he was thinking or feeling, Zayn was always there to be his backbone, to just sit or walk in silence with, and to listen when Louis’ emotions were bursting forth.

It didn’t take long for emotions to explode in such a colorful language that would make the lords and ladies back in the garden blush as red as the roses in the bushes.

“He just waltzed in to the gala,” Louis began his angry rant, “curls so neatly placed on his head, and he didn’t even glance at me! We were best friends for so many years, and this gala was the annual reminder of how we met. It was the best day of the year for the both of us. He can’t pretend that being here doesn’t remind him of me. And did you see him stand up and start walking our direction? He probably noticed our table and me at it and that’s why he turned around. Couldn’t even bear to face me like a man.”

Zayn listened in silence, and Louis appreciated it. It was good to scream his emotions without fear of judgement or reprimandation.

Kicking a pebble in the direction of a bird pecking at a worm in the dirt, he continued, “Do you know how hard it is to see his family, smile at them when they ask how I am, and then leave as quickly as possible? He probably never told them what happened. Probably was too scared about what they would think. Their perfect son.”

Louis threw his arms up in frustration and went on, “And now he’s at Eton, our biggest rival, just another reason to hate him —”

“Mate, don’t say stuff like that,” Zayn interjected, putting a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “You know you don’t hate him.”

Before Louis could retort with his long list of exactly why he hated Harry Styles they were accosted by a red-faced Niall running down the path after them.

“Guys, guys, they’re serving the pies now! It’s time to cause some trouble!”

Louis let out a deep breath. He could use the distraction right now.

In the following hour they had planted pieces of lemon pie in the faces of no less than three separate lords — “I do so apologize for my friend,” Louis would say, “he’s so clumsy when he’s had a drink,” to which Niall would smack him on the back of a head with the plate still in his hand — spiked the punch with . . . expired chocolate syrup (what were you thinking?), and recruited minions of 7 year olds to discretely place chocolates in the handbags of the women. The look of disgust on their faces when they reached into their bags to find that chocolate had melted over all their things was enough to make the three boys and their new-found comrades laugh throughout the rest of the afternoon.

As much as Louis enjoyed the revelry of the afternoon he always knew just where Harry was. A few times he could sense Harry had been looking at him, but whenever he turned around to spy on him Harry was talking animatedly with his new friends. Louis scowled and returned to drinking his unadulterated punch (the gala staff eventually realized what happened and had changed out the punch bowl and now had a waiter attending the refreshments tables). Two could play at that game.

“Nialler!” he boomed across the table, unnecessarily loudly considering there were only seven of them at the table and it wasn’t noisy at all. “Tell us again how you defended the goal against Eton last week!”

Louis laughed along to the story, loudly providing his own details as they related the story for some of their friends who had been too busy studying to attend the game.

“And did you see that rich bloke Carson trip over his own feet after I scored a goal?!” Louis yelled. He and Niall reached over the table and high-fived. Henry Carson was the star of Eton’s team, and more importantly best friends with Harry Styles. Naturally Louis had a personal vendetta against him. He hadn’t done anything to Carson during the game to cause him to trip and that’s what made the moment so much more brilliant.

The friends he had made at King’s College were great fun and Louis was glad some of them lived locally and could attend the Blue Bell Gala with him. They helped the afternoon not be so depressing. Louis didn’t have any alcohol in his system, but from all the laughs and fun he was having he was feeling a happy high.

At least he was until he saw the table tense up and he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey,” a low voice over his shoulder said. Louis turned around, too stunned to say anything. “Uhh,” Harry said slowly, “you played really nice at the game last week.” And then he turned around and left.

The happiness Louis had been feeling just moments before was replaced with anger and frustration as he watched Harry walk away. “What was that?!” he yelled to his friends, who were equally shocked.

Louis hadn’t really explained his and Harry’s history to his friends from King’s College, so only Niall and Zayn, who were eyeing him carefully, understood the real significance of the moment. His other friends just assumed it was a friendly school rivalry. From the hollowness in his head he could dimly hear the table mocking Harry as he walked away.

“Rich Eton prig,” one said.

“Look at those shoes. Bet his slew of maids shine them every day,” said another.

Louis had noticed the shoes in question, a glitter black pair of boots, and he had had to fight back a laugh, as well as a fit of jealousy. He wished he could wear stuff like that but his friends would mock him for the flamboyance.

Louis had never had a problem with being flamboyant in his style and personality, and at school he was openly out of the closet, having never seen a reason to hide who he was, but he knew that some of his classmates could be pricks. His saving grace was that he was so charming and could win even the worst people over, but all the same he didn’t want to be too flashy.

Coming back to the present Louis was relieved to find that Niall had derailed the track of the conversation by throwing olives at other guests surreptitiously. The others joined in, not quite as discretely, but at least they had stopped talking about Harry.

Before he knew it the chill of the afternoon started to set in and his parents stood up from their table and made their way toward him. Louis followed them to the car silently, still at a loss for what Harry’s goal was for coming over to his table only to turn away after saying just a few words. Louis hadn’t even gotten a chance to respond, not that he would have known what to say if he had been given time to talk.

Getting into the car, Louis wondered what the coming year would have for him. He hoped for some answers.

* * *

2009

If a watched pot never boils, a life-consuming question will surely never be answered. During the next year he didn’t get any answers, only more confusion. What was going on with Harry? What was going on with their friends? What was Louis going to do with his life? With his future?

There were murmurings, so quiet it couldn’t even be considered gossip, that Harry had been spotted with someone. A boy. The story that reached Louis’ unsuspecting ears was innocent enough, but it brought up again the question of what Harry was thinking when Louis kissed him. Did he like it? Maybe he just didn’t like Louis. And that hurt a lot.

That year, Louis made extra efforts to be friendly to people. Pulling the flirt card became an automatic habit. He had fun and he found lots of interesting distractions, but the relationships were only superficial and lasted a few days before he grew bored.

The more rumors he heard about Harry and someone else, though, the more he wanted a deep relationship. He had never considered looking for a long-term relationship from among the boys at his school; the friendships he had made were good, but his friends weren’t what he was looking for in a relationship.

Louis loved his friends, people to make his days worthwhile and who could make him laugh and whom he could make life in return, but he didn’t have many friends he could have a deep conversation with anymore. Zayn was good for that, but Louis sensed that there were some things that Zayn wouldn’t be able to help him with. Louis wasn’t lonely, per se, but he missed having a friend he could tell his deepest secrets to. No one at his school he had met so far could be that for him.

He kept going back to the idea of Harry. Harry had been everything to him. What they had was something he couldn’t ever replace, and it seemed sacrilegious to try to replace him. So in the meantime there was a giant hole in his life and in his heart. Louis did all he could to cover the hole, with tape and bandages made out of football and friends, but he could not fill it.

Many times, though he wouldn’t admit to it, Louis considered swallowing his pride and calling Harry’s home. But then a picture in his mind returned of afternoon sunlight, a dust-filled room, a castle made of books and a slamming door. He remembered the taste of his tears, the confusion of the day that never went away, and how they had not spoken since, save for Harry’s compliment at the gala the previous year right before he ran away.

Harry probably hated him, was Louis’ conclusion. Harry had just wanted to be friends, nothing more, and Louis’ unsolicited kiss had crossed a line that they couldn’t cross back over again. That was why he had run away and never come back. Harry hated him for ruining their friendship.

And still, Louis never wanted anyone else.

The end of summer charity croquet match passed with little improvement on the Harry front, either repairing their relationship or moving on completely; then the fall fair came and went just the same; by Christmas the rumors about Harry had begun and Louis feared he would see him enter the ballroom with his arms around the waist of a tall, muscular, charming gentleman. His weeks of anxiety came to nothing, as Harry was apparently sick that week and couldn’t make it, he heard Harry’s parents say as Louis may or may not have eavesdropped on their conversation.

Winter slowly turned into spring and Louis felt his heart begin to lift. Now the rumors said that Harry and the other bloke had broken up, and it hadn’t been anything serious anyway. Louis should have felt bad, but when Niall first broke the news he might have cheered. Quite loudly. In the middle of the cafeteria. He played it off that he had found out the new score on a Manchester United match. He hoped belatedly that they were playing that day.

By the time the Bluebell Wood gala arrived, Louis felt like flying. There was a simple joy in knowing that Harry was single, even if he still hated him. Maybe, just maybe, Louis would have the courage to talk to Harry. He kept his plans to himself, out of fear that Niall would take the wheel and accidentally ruin the whole scheme to win Harry back. He had to do it right.

In preparation he gathered his network of minions. He had formed something of an army of the younger boys in the community and he was proud to be their mentor in mischief. At every event they would report to him for their duties; like a king overlooking his domain he could watch the trouble unfold. His parents were dismayed at the amount of trouble he could cause with the tilt of his head and the raising of a finger. Nothing could be blamed on him, though, so they couldn’t stop him. He made sure that they never caused too much damage, anyway. This spring’s prank would be one no one would forget.

The morning of the gala Louis woke up early to make himself look extra handsome. He had laid out his suit the night before, a bright red one that was sure to attract attention. Harry wouldn’t be able to look away if he wanted to. Louis felt confident in his appearance as he combed his hair to the side. It was getting long, as his mum kept telling him, but he enjoyed the mysterious rocker look it gave him. He hoped Harry would like it, too, and for half an hour — until he heard his mother and sisters downstairs yelling to hurry up — he meticulously combed each individual hair. He only put the comb down when Lottie and Fizzy both started banging on the bathroom door.

“You take longer to get ready than us!” Fizzy yelled through the door. “Who are you even trying to impress?”

Louis flung open the door with mock extravagance. “Why the queen, of course! Didn’t you hear she would be making an appearance this afternoon?” Louis loved to mess with his sisters, especially the younger ones who hung off every word he said. Fizzy looked skeptical while Lottie just smirked, but neither called him out on it.

The car ride was interminable. Louis nearly made a hole in his cuffs from the continual tapping, and multiple times Lottie had to hold his legs still or he probably would have made a hole in the car, too, from stomping his feet impatiently. Louis was anxious because he had a plan. It had to work or he had nothing to live for. He missed Harry and he was determined to win him back. He didn’t have time to worry about how Harry would react, he just had blind hope that maybe something good could come of the day. Anything was better than the loneliness he felt without Harry in his life.

When they finally arrived Louis jumped out of the car and nearly stumbled to the ground. The energy buzzing in his veins made him weaker than he thought. His heart was beating fast with his anticipation. It was with great difficulty that Louis made it to the table where his friends were already sitting.

“‘Sup, Louis?” Zayn said when he sat down.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” he said reassuringly. He knew Zayn could see right through him, but he couldn’t tell him his plans in front of everyone else.

Fifteen minutes after he sat down Louis saw a familiar head of brown curls enter the garden. Right on cue his heart started beating faster and his breathing became shallower. Zayn was eyeing him but didn’t say anything. Harry walked within ten feet of their table on his way to his and Louis thought he might faint. If everything went right when the afternoon was over he and Harry would be at least friends again. If everything went wrong . . . he would never show his face in this town again.

Louis only half-listened to the table’s conversations, general pleasantries and catching up, talk about their respective school’s sports teams, reality TV, and so on. He was interested in his friends’ conversations but he had too much to worry about. Winning Harry back meant more than winning the football championship last year. He couldn’t lose this.

Finally the moment Louis had been waiting for arrived, his perfect opportunity to talk to Harry. The speeches were in full swing and people were milling about, getting refreshments and gossiping loudly in the open. Amidst what would soon be hundreds of colorful paper flowers floating through the air, the handiwork of his network, no one would notice a carefully crafted paper airplane soaring through the air and landing in front of Harry. Harry would know who it came from, but even if he did hate Louis, Louis knew his curiosity and kindness would lead him to accept the invitation, one line of text written on the wing reading, Where do broken hearts go? Harry would know.

The paper flowers started to fall like snowflakes all around them, drifting through the breeze created by the large fans stationed throughout the garden, causing cheers of delight from the children and sounds of despair from the adults who had to shield their plates and drinks from the non-edible confetti. Aside from the inconvenience it was not too intrusive or offensive, just as Louis’ parents had requested after too many years of broken bones and broken equipment.

He admired his handiwork for a few moments before readying his arm to throw his paper airplane. He had Harry in his sights. The airplane was in his fingers, the wind under the paper wings preparing to send it soaring, when —

He was drenched in chocolate sauce. From his head and quickly making its way to his feet he was covered in sticky chocolate. Smatterings of chocolate also reached Niall and Zayn on either side of him, who were now staring behind him with looks of surprise on their faces. Louis could hear loud snickering behind his back, the familiar snickering that he heard whenever someone from Eton “unintentionally” tripped him on the football field. In fact, he knew those exact laughs.

“Grimshaw!” he yelled, anger replacing all the hope and joy he had been feeling not even a minute before. Louis crumpled up the chocolate-splattered airplane as he processed what was happening. Nick was one of Harry’s best friends at Eton and now he had orchestrated a humiliating prank against Louis. Harmless legs placed in front of his feet during a game were nothing compared to this. If Louis fell in a game he could jump up again, but covered in chocolate sauce that was starting to harden in his hair he would never be able to recover from.

“Got something in your hair, huh, Louis?” Nick said as Louis finally turned around to face his tormentor. “Don’t think your parents will let you back in the royal carriage with all of that on you.”

Louis never understood why Nick liked to pick on his parents when Nick’s own parents were even more wealthy than his. He had become increasingly vicious in the current football season and his favorite go-to line was to mock Louis’ family and say they were royals. Usually Louis could take it and ignore him, but now with chocolate dripping off his sleeves he lost all want for decorum. Standing up with mock care and elegance, Louis then did something very un-elegant: he took a swing at Nick’s face and left a chocolate mark in the shape of his fist on his right cheek.

“Now if you will all excuse me,” Louis said, trying not to cry on the spot from humiliation and anger, “I do think I need to clean this off me before I sit back down.”

Luckily the washroom had a shower stall and he was able to get the chocolate out of his hair, but even if he ran his suit under the water he would have to return to the gala wet. He sat on the bench in the washroom in his tee shirt, letting his hair dry and trying to scrub with a dry towel some of the chocolate out of his suit. As he worked he thought about what had happened. He didn’t know what made Nick do it, or what he was doing now. Probably laughing with Harry about a perfectly executed plan to humiliate Louis, he thought bitterly.

The worst part of it all was that Harry was surely behind the plan, too, and reconciliation was a lost cause. The more he thought about it he was almost glad that he hadn’t been able to send the airplane because then he wouldn’t have had to deal with the even worse humiliation of Harry not showing up.

After a few minutes the door opened and Niall and Zayn walked in carrying a fresh suit. “I always carry an extra one in the car,” Zayn shrugged.

Louis felt his heart grow in his chest and he almost cried from the kindness of his friends. “Thank you,” he said as he went to hug the two of them.

“I don’t know all what happened back there, mate,” Niall began as Louis got dressed, “but you should know Harry didn’t look pleased.”

Louis didn’t know what to make of that. The pessimist in him said Harry was angry that they hadn’t been able to do more to him. Of course Harry still hated him. Louis was never going to get him back now. The angry voices in his head drowned out any optimism left in him. The day was ruined; the plan was ruined; his life was ruined.

On the drive home his parents tried to ask him what happened. They had seen the aftermath, naturally. Just brilliant. But he honestly didn’t know how to respond even if he wanted to. He barely knew what happened or why.

“Are you going to be okay?” his mum asked, reaching her hand back to hold his. He loved his mother’s touch, she could always comfort him.

Louis attempted a smile, but it waved and he felt the tears enter his eyes. He sniffed back tears and next to him Lottie wrapped her arm around his shoulders. They understood what he couldn’t say, and he loved them for it.

* * *

2010

The next year passed slowly and without much to show for it. Louis was 18 now and ready to get going with his life. School was a drag and the only thing keeping him excited was the football team. He felt free whenever he was on the field; he felt constricted being forced to sit still in hour-long classes, learning about people long-dead and books that were on their way to the grave, too. Even if it was only April he had already planned a book-burning party for the end of term.

Yet as much as he couldn’t want to leave school behind him and go on to university, he had to admit that he would miss some parts of school. He loved pranking his unsuspecting teachers, causing chaos in the cafeteria, and scoring the winning goal on the football team, bringing the crowds to their feet. His passion for playing against Eton hadn’t faded, and he found new ways to pull tricks on their players without getting caught.

One player in particular always got the brunt of his attacks, and against him he didn’t care if he got caught. On multiple occasions Louis had to sit out for a few minutes when his kicks aimed at Nick were a bit too hard and a bit too obvious. He could hear the groans from his teammates whenever it happened, and after the third time they sat Louis down and made him swear to not make any more personal attacks against Nick, for the sake of the team. He agreed, but shot daggers with his eyes whenever Nick got close.

Maybe he was being too hard on Nick and should let it go, he considered eventually, seeing how Harry was likely the mastermind behind the chocolate sauce incident. He was the culprit, Nick was the pawn. It was Harry who he needed to be angry at. And Louis was angry at him, angrier than ever before. With that act Louis’ hopes had been dashed to pieces and he knew that he and Harry would never be friends again. The hatred ran too deep.

He knew that Niall and Zayn were disappointed in him for how he responded to the whole incident. He told them his suspicions about Harry being behind it, and reluctantly they agreed that it made sense. Louis didn’t tell them about what he had been planning to do right before the incident occurred, though. His pride was still wounded and no one else needed to know how close he had been to making an even greater fool of himself.

Harry was present at all the other charity events of the following year, and Louis studiously ignored him. He did not even look at him, let alone track his movements as he had done in the years before. Louis was hurt and he was angry, and Harry did not deserve his attention. He knew he was moody during what should have been happy charity events, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. Niall had been forced to take over his duties as the charity prank ringleader; he was doing an excellent job at it and Louis knew it was in safe hands. But without the distraction of orchestrating pranks, Louis could only mope and be sad.

In January, after a horribly depressing Christmas season, Niall and Zayn eventually put the pieces of the puzzle together and confronted Louis about ignoring Harry.

“Just talk to him, Lou!” Niall had yelled at him. “Almost a whole year has gone by, there’s no use feeling so sad anymore. I know you still have feelings for him or you wouldn’t be acting like such a prat all the time when he’s around.”

Zayn had agreed and said more gently, “This will only get harder on you, Louis. It’s not healthy what you’re doing. You’re going to actually get hurt sometime, especially if you keep acting so violently when you play against Eton. Learn to forgive him.”

Louis couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wanted to believe that things could be alright, that in time his hurt could fade and he could forgive him, but he couldn’t just talk to Harry. Not just his pride, but his heart was wounded. The day he planned to reconcile with Harry at all costs was the day Harry planned to break his heart even more.

It had been nearly a year now and he still hadn’t recovered.

It was like déjà vu, or a post-traumatic stress attack, waking up the morning of the spring gala. He felt sick, mentally, physically, emotionally. He threw cold water in his face and stared himself down in the bathroom mirror.

“Get it together, Louis,” he told the mirror. “Look the part. Show him you don’t care. Prove to them all you moved on from last year. It has been a year. You are Louis Tomlinson and you are better than this.”

His confidence growing by the minute Louis continued to dress himself in his finest suit, looking the part of a responsible adult. No bright, eye-grabbing outfit this year. Mature, collected — and physically devastating. For maybe the first time in his life he looked as well-groomed as he was raised. He would catch everyone’s attention with his handsomeness and charm.

When he reached the gala, after a long car ride explaining to his family how he had turned over a new leaf, his newfound maturity had the desired effect. He could see men and women of all ages glancing at him, as if uncertain if this new demeanor was all part of an elaborate prank. He shook their hands, smiled brightly and made the appropriate small talk. He could tell he impressed many of them. Whether or not the act would impress Harry was another question, but at least he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown like he was in the previous days.

Niall and Zayn waved him over when Louis made his way to the tables and as he sat down he felt like a new man. “Morning, lads!” he said cheerily.

Zayn raised his eyebrows, but Niall called his bluff. “So what changed between yesterday, when you were blubbering over the phone, and now?”

“How’s this, it’s a new day and I have decided to recreate myself, like a caterpillar coming out of its cocoon. I am now a fully grown butterfly,” Louis finished with a flourish of his arms.

He caught Zayn smirking and Niall cackled at his show. While the performance might have started as acting, by now he was feeling actually happy. Fake it ‘til you make it really was true, he supposed.

“Sure, whatever you say, my precious butterfly,” Niall said.

Louis watched as more people arrived, waving to his schoolmates as well as other family friends.

“I knew you would grow up one day,” an older lady said to him kindly after he greeted her and her husband. “Just as gracious as your mother.” She might as well have pinched his cheek and handed him a cookie. Still Louis was happy with the compliment and his pride swelled in his chest as he said thank you.

As he watched the lady’s hat disappear through the crowds he saw someone else appearing in it. Harry had arrived with Gemma and his parents at his side. Louis had to look away quickly or all his strength to not make a crying mess of himself would collapse. He stared at the condensation running down his glass of water, willing certain water droplets to combine and form a massive blob.

The introductory speeches began and Louis did his best to listen like the proper adult he was. He applauded at the right times and he politely declined to take part in the pranks Niall had coordinated. Niall looked amused; he knew Louis better than that, but he didn’t protest.

The lunch service was in full swing when next to him Zayn suddenly poured a teapot over his own suit. Louis fought the urge to laugh but he knew firsthand thanks to his horde of younger sisters just how hot fresh tea was.

“Agh!” Zayn yelled, standing up to shake some of the liquid from his trousers. “Louis, could you help me clean up?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” he said. He and Niall had been there for him last year and he would be there to help him, even if he had just made a stupid mistake and misjudged where his teacup was.

“I can get your spare suit from the car!” Niall exclaimed, and he grabbed Zayn’s keys and ran away.

Louis walked with Zayn to the washroom where just one year before he had fled to after the incident with Grimshaw. He tried not to think back on the unpleasant memories . . . or the ruined plans . . . or the horrible year he had had since then. He didn’t entirely succeed at washing away the memories or the feelings that came with them.

Before he could regain his composure they reached the washroom. The door abruptly swung open and out walked Liam. Before he knew what was happening he was being pushed inside the door and tumbled into the room.

“Zayn what the—!”

“Have fun!” he heard Zayn yell from outside. He heard the door lock.

“Oops, sorry!” Louis exclaimed as he was flung into a person sitting on a cushioned settee by the door.

“Hi, Louis.”

Fear and uncertainty flew into Louis’ bones faster than an arrow finding its target. Louis was still half-lying on this person, whom he was very quickly realizing was none other than Harry Styles — the Harry Styles he had been angry with for the last year exactly. There was much for him to process.

Though his breathing in the last five seconds had become ragged and his blood started rushing too fast, something about Harry had a calming effect on him the longer they were in contact. He hadn’t heard that voice in so long, it sounded like springtime, sweet honey and love. Harry had said two words, but already Louis could feel his soul bursting back into life. There was love in his voice; in those few words, in his name, he said it with love.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was angry with Harry. Didn’t Harry hate him? Had he been all wrong? And why was Harry so calm about this?

Cautiously, but more curious than scared, Louis opened his eyes. For the first time in five years he saw Harry’s green eyes smiling back at him. Their eyes were drinking each other in like the first glass of water at the end of a marathon. They were done running; they were done fighting. It was time to walk, to breathe and to drink.

Harry’s eyes conveyed so much emotion, and Louis knew exactly what he was thinking. Louis was thinking the same thoughts. Anger and frustration ebbed away, replaced by forgiveness. The events of last year didn’t matter right now; they were best friends, even after so many years apart, and Louis could forgive him for everything if it meant they were in each others’ lives again. That’s what best friends did.

“Hi,” Louis said. A small step, an insignificant word, but it was all he could voice.

“Hi,” Harry echoed, a slight grin forming on his face.

And Louis was still lying on Harry’s lap. Harry hadn’t moved, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t shown any sign that he was uncomfortable with the position. When they were young and they were best friends Louis had laid on Harry’s lap countless times as Harry had run his fingers through Louis’ silky brown hair. It felt like no time had passed. Harry must have thought so, too, because not a moment after Louis ran over the old memories in his head did Harry’s fingers find their way into Louis’ hair, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Muscle memory, perhaps.

Harry’s soft touch was electric. It both energized him and righted his life, aligning all parts of himself that he hadn’t known were off.

Questions, accusations against himself, flooded Louis’ mind. Why hadn’t Louis tried harder? Why hadn’t he run to Harry’s parents’ car after he couldn’t find him five years ago and waited for him there and demanded an explanation? Why hadn’t he called all those times he cried himself to sleep at night? But as Harry’s fingers continued to comb through Louis’ hair, the questions faded and were replaced by joy of realizing that they were together, after so many years apart, they had finally found their way — or had been forcibly pushed — back together. Nothing else mattered.

There were so many things that they needed to talk about, but they could wait. They would never have this moment, this reunion, again. It was sacred and there was no need for words. Just Harry’s hand in Louis’ hair, a hold on his heart.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Louis sat up and looked him in the eyes. They were like magnets that had been forced apart with their backs to each other for too long. Given this chance to see each other face to face, with nothing in their way, they came back together like it was God’s and nature’s will for it to happen. And now that they were face to face once more, there was nothing but God who could tear them apart again.

This time, Louis knew that Harry wouldn’t run away — although he was fairly certain that neither of them would be able to run away if they wanted to, anyway. Never taking his eyes of Harry’s, Louis leaned forward. Harry followed suit, meeting him halfway. They both closed their eyes on contact and let the feelings take over.

It was a gentle kiss. It anchored Louis. Their souls seemed to intertwine, flowing through their mouths into one another, like their souls had been waiting for this moment to meet again. They were the two halves of the same person. He breathed Harry in; he smelled just like he remembered, like rain in a lush forest. Harry’s lips were soft against his and they moved like clouds rolling through the sky, lazily but with purpose. It was the sweetest kiss Louis had ever experienced and he didn’t want it to ever end.

Louis let his hands comb through Harry’s curls, the curls he had admired from afar as he watched Harry grow up in the crowds of charity galas and football games, the boy who meant everything so far away from him. He couldn’t believe how long he had let himself stay away from Harry. He didn’t know that he would ever be able to answer the question why to himself, but maybe Harry could answer some of his many lingering questions.

Hating himself for letting the kiss end, Louis slowly pulled back and steadied his gaze on Harry. They smiled at each other and Louis was momentarily lost in Harry’s dimples. They had been there when they were younger, but now they were so much more pronounced. He was mesmerized and all coherent thoughts were gone.

Harry spoke first, slowly as if still fearful of scaring Louis away — as if Louis could ever stay away again, but Harry didn’t know that yet. Hoarsely he said, “I missed you, Lou.”

“Oh, God, Harry, I’ve missed you so much,” was all Louis could say in return at first. “You’re my best friend. You are a part of me. And for so many years you have been missing from me.”

Harry looked down at his lap, his eyes leaving Louis for the first time since Louis stumbled onto him. “It was my fault. I ran without looking back.”

Louis reached out to touch Harry’s face. He caressed his cheek, turning him back to face him. “We both made mistakes, okay? You’re not to blame. I should have made sure it was what you wanted, firstly. I should have reached out to you. I . . . I should have called. I shouldn’t have avoided you. Not for so many years. But . . . why did you run away? After I kissed you?”

Harry grabbed Louis hands and clasped them in his. His eyes became water as he answered. “I was scared about what you made me feel,” he admitted. “I’m two years younger than you, remember? I don’t think I was ready yet. I wasn’t sure what I wanted with you. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have run away from you. I have regretted it every day since then.”

Louis thought over the state of his life since Harry had left it and almost laughed. “What happened to us? How did that happen to us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe neither of us were really ready for what would have happened next. You were thirteen, and I was eleven. We were too young. But could we have really gone back to being best friends after that? Maybe we needed time to figure out what we needed on our own.”

“I need you, Harry. You are all I have ever needed.” Louis spoke firmly, never blinking, willing Harry to believe that his words were true. He was all he had ever needed, the anchor that kept him steady.

Harry smiled and blushed, but he didn’t break Louis’ gaze. “I know now that you are what I need, too. I . . . I love you, Louis.” More sure of himself Harry continued, “I love you. It has always been you.”

Louis could almost feel the moment his heart burst. His emotions had broken past walls he hadn’t known were built around his heart. Now his heart was so large the emotions poured out, tearing down the walls. Harry’s words opened the way for him to feel. It was a strange experience but Louis knew what he was feeling. “I love you, too, Harry. I always have.”

He continued, breathing in deeply for courage to put everything else in the open, “I was going to talk to you, last year. I had written you a note. I was going to ask you to meet me. I was about to throw it when —”

“When Nick happened,” Harry finished. Louis watched his face, previously so bright, grow dark. “Bastard,” he muttered.

Louis almost choked at Harry’s quiet curse. So that was news. He looked at Harry questioningly. “I thought you were mates? I thought you had told him to do it. I took it as an answer to the question I hadn’t been able to ask yet.” His voice trailed off as he looked to Harry for answers.

“No, no, no,” Harry answered, shaking his head for emphasis. “Nick and I used to be close. We were,” he paused and scratched his head, then gulped before continuing, “we were dating for a while.”

Louis’ eyes grew wide as he understood the situation. Of course, Nick had been the one the rumors had been about. Here Louis had been expecting some mysterious stranger, not his stuck-up footy rival. He didn’t know why he hadn’t considered it was Nick. Yeah Louis knew they were best mates at Eton, but his and Harry’s personalities were so different. Louis grimaced as he thought about it more. Nick was just so . . . not Louis. That’s why he couldn’t imagine them together.

Harry went on, grasping Louis’ hands firmly, “After we broke up he was gutted. I had told him there was someone else. I didn’t need to say, but he understood I meant you.”

Louis blushed now, flustered at the thought that at the same time he had been planning to reunite with Harry he had been planning the same thing. He felt a pang deep in his heart when he realized they had lost a good year of time together because of the misunderstanding. Nick had set out to hurt Louis for his own purposes, not for Harry’s.

“I never knew,” Louis said, lost in his thoughts. “I just assumed.” He shook his head in disbelief then said quietly, “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never!” Harry shouted, loudly enough that Zayn, Liam and probably Niall could have heard them. “I love you. I have always loved you. Nick told me you had tripped him, that it was an accident. I would have run right after you if I had known the truth. I don’t know why I believed him,” Harry spat out vehemently.

Now that he had started to relax, seeing Harry mad made Louis chuckle. He could feel the tension leaving him and he was left floating on the clouds. He raised his palm to Harry’s face and said, “Hey, love, it’s alright. We’re together now and he doesn’t matter. All is forgiven.”

Harry smiled in agreement and kissed him softly. It felt like home. Louis could feel the world turning around him but he wasn’t going anywhere. Although, they had probably been locked inside the washroom for at least half an hour now and they should probably let others use it.

“Ready to go back out there, boyfriend?” Louis asked. He let the word slip, unintentionally, but he let it stay. It almost felt like it wasn’t enough for what Harry was to him. But for now it would do — if Harry agreed.

Harry’s smile was so wide his dimples came back and Louis almost swooned. How was he so lucky to have found this beautiful boy? “I’m ready if you are, boyfriend.”

Grabbing Harry’s hand Louis ran to the door and banged on it with his free first. “Ay! Lads, we’re all done in here, can we please see the sun again?”

He could hear Niall’s guffaw and soon they were faced with their three friends staring at them expectantly.

“So?” Liam asked.

As a reply, Louis just turned to Harry and kissed him again.

Niall swatted them, yelling, “Not so passionately in public, you lovebirds!”

It didn’t stop Louis and Harry.

“Don’t we get a thank you for getting you two to even look at each other again?” Liam asked.

Louis hummed his sincere thanks and finally he and Harry moved apart. Harry’s arms looped around Louis’ shoulders, warming him up in the cool afternoon breeze.

“Thank you,” Harry said, then walked the two of them back to the sea of tables who were in the middle of an unceremoniously loud auction. Louis wondered at the noise level of the crowd, then he remembered that one of Niall’s plans was to spike the tea, “to liven up those old kooks.”

The afternoon was still young, and so were they. Looking at the hundreds of lords and ladies now yelling at each other trying to outbid their friends and enemies, Louis couldn’t help but laugh at the new sweetness of life. In the afternoon sunshine with Harry once more by his side, their hands intertwined and fingers locked, Louis felt like he was living for the first time in five years. It was spring, the birds were singing, and so was his heart.

He smiled at Harry and Harry smiled back. His boyfriend.

* * *

2015

“Harry, love, what looks better, the blue suit or the white?” Louis stood in their closet, holding up two suits next to his body, comparing how the color complemented his skin tone.

“You look beautiful in either, babe,” came Harry’s reply from down the hall where he was meticulously running product through his curls.

“Hazzzzzz,” Louis yelled back, “you have to actually provide an answer! Everything is pinned on this day.” Maybe the blue looked best; it brought out the blue in his eyes. “This is our first official outing as an engaged couple, you know. We have to look stunning.”

Louis still woke up every day with an unconscious smile on his lips, which spread into a full grin when he fully awoke and remembered the day that he and Harry got engaged. They had talked about it for a while, for the last five years, a while, and had both surprised the other by popping the question at the same time.

For his part, Louis had wanted to ask Harry to marry him at the Bluebell Wood gala, but as they stood on the bow of a ship, taking a day trip to France just for fun, the silver ring he had bought a month before felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. Harry had apparently been thinking the same thing, unsurprising considering how in sync they were. Simultaneously they both pulled ring boxes out of their pockets and burst out laughing — then crying, then kissing.

Neither of them really said the words exactly, but first Harry and then Louis put the rings on each other’s hands. The question was never if, it was when. They had officially been dating for nearly five years now, since the day they were locked into the restroom at the gala and reconciled with each other. The love between them had never gone away, even when on the outside they had tried to hate each other. True love didn’t leave so easily; it is a force that can’t be stopped.

With their lives on track for success, Harry as an up and coming event planner and Louis as one of the newest team members for Manchester United, both felt that it was time to settle down — more than they already were. They had lived together in a cozy apartment since Harry had graduated from Eton and had Christmases with both their families every year, even hosting a few birthdays and celebrations at their own home, but with both of them trying to get through university and start their careers, getting married hadn’t seemed practical just yet.

Now they were ready, and they were finally getting ready to announce their happiness to the world. If only Harry wouldn’t take so long doing his hair.

Louis had decided on the blue suit in the end, and with a few swipes of his comb he slicked back his hair. His skin was still sunkissed from their traditional vacation for Harry’s birthday a few months before and from exceptionally sunny weather during his football practices. He wasn’t trying to be cocky, but he thought he looked quite good.

He found Harry just where he knew he’d be, still fussing with his curls in the mirror. He had a look of focused concentration on his face, biting his lips and eyes narrowed on the littlest details of his hair. Louis snuck up behind him and placed a kiss on his cheek, ruffling his curls with his hand as he did.

“You look gorgeous, Curly,” Louis said. “Now let’s get going!”And with that he smacked his fiance’s rear and ran away before Harry could catch him. He knew how much Harry admired his curls — Louis openly adored them, too — but he was just too much fun to mess with.

“Louuuuu!”

He was already in the kitchen, pouring some water in the kettle for his daily cup of tea, humming a song playing in his heart. Ever since he and Harry kissed for the second time, in what was the single happiest moment of his life, he never came down from the high that Harry’s love gave him. There was always a spring in his step and a song in his heart when Harry was around. Even when they were apart, knowing that Harry was out there, loving him every moment, neither afraid anymore, he felt that love.

They were two birds, two sparrows, circling around each other and coming back together in a dance neither were taught but knew instinctually. The world was wide open before the both of them. They could get through anything together.

First up was announcing their engagement to the public. Their families heard the news the night it happened, but all their friends and colleagues were still in the dark. Louis couldn’t wait to tell them the big news, and Harry was just as excited. They had already started planning the wedding, even though they had been engaged for less than a week. If Louis was being honest, he had been secretly writing down wedding plans in his phone for the last three years. He suspected Harry had, too.

The kettle started to whistle. It sounded like birds singing. Maybe deaf birds, the more he thought about it, but birds in the early morning, chirping because they were happy to be alive. He never thought he could identify with a tea kettle.

“Harry are you nearly ready?” he called out as he poured a cup of tea.

He heard a rumble down the hallway as Harry ran into the kitchen. “‘M ready, ‘m ready,” he said.

Louis eyed him through the steam coming out of his tea cup. He couldn’t believe that he was going to marry this man. Harry was already so beautiful, Louis could never keep his eyes off him on a normal day, and then came special occasions. . . .

Harry was standing before him in a black suit, the shirt barely buttoned, with a wide-brimmed hat atop his curls. He looked like a farmer straight off the runways of Milan and Louis had never wanted to not be going out in public for the entire day more. There were a lot of other things he wanted to do with Harry that he had been told countless times were not appropriate behavior for outside of one’s own home.

But back to his responsibilities. . . .

“Catch!” Louis yelled suddenly, throwing a banana and an apple at Harry, who stumbled a little but caught the fruit all the same. “Time to go!”

By the time Harry got to the car Louis was already buckled in with his recently polished shoes tapping on the dashboard. Harry sighed and smiled when he saw the sight. “Put your feet down,” he said laughingly. There was a fondness shining through his face that always made Louis weak, and he couldn’t not follow the order, even if he did want to feel like a young child again.

They discussed more wedding plans as they drove: late summer was best, but it had to be before the girls went back to school; their old friends from school would be invited but could be sat at tables far away from each other; the title of best man had to be split evenly between Niall, Zayn and Liam.

In his life Louis had driven to the Bluebell Wood gala far too many times. Some years he dreaded the drive, and other years he felt like running along outside the car if he could make it there any faster. No year had he ever been so preoccupied and happy that he didn’t even notice the length of the drive as he was this year. He only realized they were getting close when shadows fell across Harry’s face from the archway of trees that signaled the start of the final road to the conservatory. Louis was glad Harry was such a good driver and didn’t get distracted as easily as Louis did; if he had been driving they’d have stopped moving in the middle of a road because Louis simply forgot he was driving.

“Ready to tell the world, Lou?” Harry asked as he took the keys out of the engine.

Louis leaned over the armrest and kissed Harry lightly. “I have been ready for five years.”

He felt like a child again, racing through life in a small red Ferrari, never knowing what was around the corner. But with Harry by his side he knew he could face anything.