Archive of Our Own ^beta

The choice had been foreseeable, and when it had stood before them, neither of them had given it much thought. They had known each other since childhood, had grown up together and had shared almost every aspect of their lives. So when they had both felt the desire to leave their childhood home, it had been an almost automatic and obvious decision to move in together.

Louis hadn’t hesitated, because he wouldn’t have wanted to share a house, and his life in general, with anyone but Harry. And from what his best friend had always said, the same was true for him.

They hadn’t given much thought to the pros and cons, partly because Louis didn’t believe that living with Harry could have any disadvantages. Apart from the small detail that he would have to share a space all day, every day, with the person he loved the most. That should have been the ultimate positive aspect, if it were not for the fact that Louis had only ever played the role of best friend for fifteen years.

They had never even talked about the fact that Louis had enough money to afford to live alone, but he had chosen to share an apartment with Harry. It had its pros and cons, some of which Louis hadn’t even considered when they'd moved in together, such as the occasional moaning coming from Harry's room, which he didn’t complain about - at least not when Harry was alone - but hated when they weren't coming from his best friend.

Louis hadn’t considered that he would've to witness his best friend feel pleasure at someone else's hands from the room next door, or the ways in which Harry was able to give pleasure. But Louis had never complained, because he was the best friend anyone could wish for, as Harry used to say. Sure, whatever.

He hated those two words, stupid and pointless. The best compared to what? Harry had no other friend but him and he had always found it strange. With his amiable nature and carefree talk, Harry should have had dozens of friends, but he didn’t, and Louis had never understood why.

What he hated more than anything, however, was the fact that Harry went out with other people, kissed and caressed them, took them to his bed and spent the night with them. He also hated the fact that Harry, on those nights, would crawl his feet down the hallway and stand in front of Louis with a pout because he needed cuddling, insisting that they sleep in Louis' room instead of his.

Only once had Harry explained to him that he didn’t want them to sleep in the same bed Harry used to do stuff with other people, and Louis had felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces for the umpteenth time.

Of course, the best bed was Louis', who hadn’t dared to take anyone into the house since they'd started living together years ago. Not that he used to sleep around, it happened rarely and he'd never been able to enjoy the sex to the full because his head was always occupied by the wrong person. Or rather, by the person he was sure was the right one, but who clearly didn’t reciprocate his feelings.

In any case, he had never understood this statement from Harry. Why was it so important to him not to share a bed with Louis that he had shared with someone else? It shouldn't have mattered to him, but Louis' explanation was that Harry probably understood or suspected at the time that Louis had feelings for him and therefore didn’t want to make him suffer any more than necessary. If that had been the case, Harry definitely could have done without fucking with someone else in his presence, but still... Louis couldn’t have everything in life, so he was content.

Since that time, since the panic and fear that Harry had figured it out had begun to plague him, Louis had decided to distance himself a little, both in the hopes that Harry wouldn’t suspect further and because he felt like he couldn’t take this situation anymore. But of course, being the perfect best friend, Harry hadn’t let that happen. He was always looking for cuddles and physical contact, hugs and time together. The list was pretty long.

The only good thing about this whole shitty situation was that Harry had never allowed anyone to spend the night with him, out of respect for Louis, as he had said, although even on those occasions Louis hadn’t understood what he meant by that, especially since every time he finished, Harry would shower and then crawl under Louis' blankets, who was constantly forced to hold back the tears and the urge to scream at the top of his lungs.

What the hell kind of best friend is it who, after shagging a stranger, crawls into his best friend's bed with a pout because no one can cuddle like he does?

Louis wondered every time if Harry was aware of the shit he said.

And too often he also wondered how long he would last in this state before he exploded once and for all. But most of all, he feared what would happen to his heart if Harry put the casual fuckings aside when he found the right person for him.

Louis knew rationally that sooner or later that moment would come and he would have to smile like he always did, and pretend to be happy, like the perfect best friend he was. But he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand it, and that even though he had pretended for years and never talked about his feelings for fear of losing Harry and ruining their friendship, this would be the final break for him and therefore for their relationship.

Part of him wondered, though, why Harry felt the need to sleep with so many people, why he couldn't find the right one for him, why none of the people he'd been with had been able to see him and truly appreciate him. Not that Louis wanted it to happen, but he couldn't help but wonder.

Harry was perfect. Or rather, almost perfect, if one disregarded the fact that he was so incredibly stupid that he never realized how bad Louis felt every time Harry came home with someone, or every time he went to his bed after shagging who knows who. He didn't really want Harry to understand, but at the same time, Louis wished he did. At least then he could have gotten rid of this burden once and for all.

But apart from these small, insignificant details, Louis loved living with Harry and adored him. He had literally built a career on Harry and because of him, but Harry obviously didn't know that and never understood it. Like everything else, for that matter.

Louis wouldn’t call their relationship toxic; after all, it wasn't anyone's fault that he had a crush on his best friend. That he was bloody well in love with his best friend. And he couldn't blame Harry for dating other people and then holing up under his covers, because it had been Louis' decision not to talk about the subject, so he had no one to blame but himself.

He was about to scream in frustration when he heard a knock on the door of his room, already knowing what was coming. Probably Mike - or maybe it was Mark? - had just left and Harry would be complaining as usual about how no one would ever stay the night, though he would finally admit that he was the one who didn't want them to stay. Louis would never understand the contradictory thought processes of Aquarius.

"Were you asleep?" Harry whispered almost shyly after opening the door.

The pout that would sooner or later land Louis in a mental institution was there, as it was every time this routine played out, and he only wished he could have wiped it from those rosy and fleshy lips with his own.

"No, come in," Louis replied, suppressing a sigh as he lifted the covers, smiling bitterly as Harry bit his lip and showed off his dimples before slipping in next to him, snuggling against his chest.

Harry let out a soft sigh and absentmindedly began to draw imaginary lines on Louis' bare chest. Although it had been like this for years, Louis' heart had never stopped pausing in his chest to then pounding furiously each time.

"What's going on?" he asked the usual routine question, but he already knew the answer.

"He didn't stay," Harry mumbled in his usual sad tone.

Louis suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Why not?"

Harry shrugged as best his position allowed. "He doesn't like cuddling."

Louis wasn’t a self-centered person and had never wanted to fool himself into thinking Harry had feelings for him, but he wondered for the umpteenth time why Harry didn’t understand that this behavior was not normal. Friends do not behave like this, not even best friends.

"Well, that's what friends are for, isn't it?" he commented, suppressing a laugh at the absurdity he had forced himself to say. He was being sarcastic, of course, but Harry wouldn't have understood it anyway.

Harry was silent for a few seconds before he sighed. "Yeah. Thank you for being the best friend ever."

Louis wished he could have called whoever was in charge of writing definitions in the damn dictionaries to politely ask them to get rid of those two words from existence permanently.

"Always," he replied instead, tightening his grip around Harry's shoulders and pressing a kiss to his hair, which was still damp from the shower.

That was all they said, and although Louis should be used to it by now, he couldn’t hold back the lone tear that lined his cheek as the unbearable pain he was all too familiar with by now caused a twinge in his heart.

The next morning, as he opened his eyes and blinked to adjust to the light streaming through the window, Louis stared at the ceiling for an indeterminate amount of time. Why did Harry just not understand? Or was this behavior his way of letting Louis know that he wanted nothing from him but friendship? Well, if the latter option was the right one, then it was a pretty shitty way to do it, because how was Louis supposed to know that if Harry always looked for him after his glorious shags?

Harry was simultaneously the smartest and the dumbest person he'd ever dealt with.

When he couldn't procrastinate any longer and his stomach began to growl at the smell coming from the kitchen, he huffed in resignation and shuffled out of the room and down the hall. Harry was giving him his back, busy preparing breakfast, animatedly stirring pancake batter in a bowl while shaking his perfect hips to the beat of the music he was probably listening to, judging by the headphones he was wearing.

Louis leaned against the doorframe and watched him silently, a fond smile on his lips, finding that what was in front of him was why the weight in his chest he had been feeling for years was worth it.

Harry wasn’t just that pain, that suffocating feeling of loneliness and absolute sadness. Harry was happiness, he was a genuine smile at the end of a terrible day, a silent hug when words wouldn’t be enough, he was a warm comforting blanket during the worst storms.

He had been there for Louis for so long, in the darkest moments and at the happiest milestones, through the incessant tears and the fear of not making it, constantly reminding him how special Louis was, how everyone would love to have someone like him in their lives.

He had always been there, in the silence when there were no words, and in the midst of chaos when that was what Louis needed. He had been there every time Louis had broken down, reaching out to him and letting him know he was there, always. Harry had been there for him at every milestone, from the anxiety on the first day of high school to graduation, from the panic attacks during the worst college sessions to the endless celebration when Louis made it.

And he'd also been there when Louis' career took off, when he made a name for himself and pathetically started writing songs to sell to someone who would sing them. Harry had been there to hug him and tell him how proud he was of him, when all Louis had wanted to say was that everything he wrote, everything he'd ever written, had always been solely for Harry. Every stupid love song, many of which had become famous hits, had been written with Harry in mind, for Harry, as had those tearjerkers into which Louis poured all his frustration and despair over unrequited love.

Although Louis became famous in the music industry, he was only known to record companies and singers. They loved his lyrics and he was in high demand, but the general public, fortunately from his point of view, didn’t care much about songwriters and so Louis was able to lead a normal life away from the attentions, attending a few big events sporadically but avoiding the spotlight, the paparazzi and the fans.

The most absurd and almost amusing thing, however, was that Harry really admired every single song and always spent days praising Louis for his writing skills for every single one.

"Good morning," Harry said cheerfully, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Louis blushed at being caught staring at him like an idiot, but Harry wouldn't have noticed anyway. "Good morning. What are you listening to?"

"The demos you sent me the other day. I haven't had time yet," he replied, setting the bowl down on the counter and moving closer to him, then leaving him a kiss on the cheek as always did, before continuing with the preparation of breakfast.

Louis just wanted to scream and tear his hair out.

"Black and White? Absolute poetry, Lou! And that guy, Niall, wow. He's got just the right voice to sing a song like that... We're sixty-five and you ask when did I first know, I always knew? You're as romantic as ever." He chuckled as if it was funny and as if he wasn't the subject of the song, then continued to ramble on with his monologue. "What about Sam's song? That made me cry a bit, it's quite sad. You'd say I'm sorry, believe me, I love you, but not in that way. How on earth do you go from writing romantic songs to such depressing ones? And I always wonder what you think about when you write them. I mean, you must have a muse, right? All these years you've almost always written only love songs..."

Louis stared at him impassively, listening to him talking to himself and making up his own theories, from which he drew no conclusions, while he corrected the thought from earlier. Harry was definitely stupid.

"Are you even listening to me?" Harry asked at one point, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Uh... Sorry, I was lost in thoughts. What did you say?" Louis mumbled, shaking his head and dropping listlessly onto the chair in the kitchen.

Louis tilted his head in confusion and cursed himself for not listening when he saw the look on Harry's face. He seemed uncertain as he nervously and too vigorously clutched the spatula he was using to flip the pancakes in the pan, avoiding his gaze.

"I was asking if maybe there’s someone you haven't told me about," Harry murmured in a low voice, then cleared his throat. "Maybe... maybe it's Zayn? You two have always been pretty close," he continued, meeting his gaze and forcing a smile.

Louis just wanted to laugh in his face at the absurdity of what he was saying, to throw the flower pot on the table at him, hoping to hit him over the head and make him see reason. After, he wanted to scream at him that it was him, that it had always been him and no one else. And that for Louis, as young as he was and as aware as he was that he couldn't live this heartbreak forever, there would be no one else in his life but him and that no one else would ever be like-

"You know you can tell me anything, right? You're my best friend."

Best friend.

Louis suppressed a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, tugging at a few strands, for the umpteenth time on the verge of telling him everything because he couldn't stand this situation any longer.

"It's not Zayn, there never was and never will be anything with him," he decided to answer instead. "I just have a lot of... fantasy. That's all," he continued, just to twist the knife even deeper into the wound.

Harry sighed, almost as if he was relieved. "Okay."

Why was Harry acting like that? Almost as if he was... jealous? As if Louis hadn't had to listen for years Harry getting intimate with other people, or his constant outbursts when his dates didn't go as planned, or his monologues about how good he had felt in the hands of someone who wasn't Louis. But he was probably just jealous that Louis could have someone and hadn't told him about it.

They ate in a strange, almost tense silence. Harry seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, with his usual deep crease on his forehead and the occasional wrinkle of his nose, while Louis stuffed the damn pancakes in his mouth and swallowed them down with force to stop himself from screwing everything up, throwing everything on the table onto the floor, sliding over it and take Harry like he'd imagined so many times before. Too many times.

*

Friday was Larry night, as Harry had called it so many years ago. The first time he'd uttered that nickname, derived from the union of their names, emphasizing how perfect it was for the two of them, Louis had seriously thought he would die at that moment. Harry often spoke so lightly, unaware of the inner turmoil he caused him.

From that day on, they spent every Friday together, no matter how busy they were or how different their lives and careers were. Fridays were just for them, with pizza, a movie and a shared couch. And, of course, cuddles because they were never enough for Harry and Louis was too weak to deny him them.

"Next time, I'll pick the movie," Harry grumbled next to him, nudging his foot on Louis' chest.

Louis chuckled and rolled his eyes, wrapping his fingers around Harry's ankle, putting his leg back on his own thighs. "Stop being an idiot. We both know you actually like romantic comedies."

"I would definitely have preferred an action movie... or a horror movie," Harry pouted.

"You know they scare me," Louis said, giving him a half-smile without taking his eyes off the screen as he began to draw imaginary lines on the exposed skin on Harry's ankle.

"One more excuse to cuddle with you," Harry exclaimed in a winking tone.

Louis suppressed a laugh. "As if you needed an excuse to cuddle," he replied, shaking his head.

It should have been weird, maybe even embarrassing, but that was just their dynamic and it didn’t help Louis at all, because he knew they often acted and talked like they were a couple. Harry was just stupid.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked suddenly, just as the protagonist of the movie was kissing the person she had a crush on for the first time, and Louis nodded distractedly. "What does your ideal person look like?"

The question was so direct and unexpected that Louis coughed as he choked on his saliva, then cleared his throat.

"Uh..." he mumbled, not knowing how to answer without giving himself away. "I don't know..."

"Oh, come on, Lou. You must have an ideal guy you'd like to be with. Tell me," Harry insisted.

The seconds that passed while Louis thought about it seemed to stretch endlessly and were at the same time the shortest ever, because in reality he didn’t need to think about it. The perfect person for him, the one who fitted into every nook and cranny of his body and soul, like the pieces of a puzzle, had always been Harry.

The only problem was that Louis was aware that he would be saying too much if he answered that question, because whenever he talked about Harry - especially to Zayn, his best friend who had endured years of ramblings about his broken heart, and through his songs - he had so much to say that eventually, once he started, he couldn't stop.

"Hmm, I've never thought too much about it. I think... I don't think I have an ideal person," he replied, shrugging one shoulder, hoping Harry would drop the subject.

Harry huffed audibly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Louis looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and wished he could disappear at that exact moment when he saw the pout and the deep crease on Harry's forehead. His best friend was silent for a few seconds, then his posture relaxed and the hint of a smile opened on his lips, although it seemed almost bitter or forced.

"Well, in any case, if you write such beautiful lyrics with your fantasy, I can't even imagine how wonderful will be the ones you'll write when you find the perfect person for you."

Louis wouldn’t have wanted to disappear, he would have wanted to die right then and save himself another stab in the heart, another overwhelming urge to send it all to hell and tell him everything. But of course, he was a coward and so he decided not to say anything. Or rather, he decided not to react to that statement, but for his mouth-brain filter wasn’t enough that the blade was already sunk in, it had to twist the knife in the wound as well.

"And how do you imagine him? The ideal person for you, I mean," Louis asked in an uncertain voice. He didn't really want to know the answer, he knew it would only cause him pain, but he couldn't help but ask, perhaps under the illusion that he could mirror what Harry would say and have a chance.

The bitter smile on Harry's lips showed again and he twisted his mouth as he was used to when he felt displeasure at something. Then he shook his head slightly and his smile shifted, his lips curving gently as dimples dug into his cheeks.

"I imagine him being kind to me, always having an open ear for me and supporting me in good times and bad. I wish, like, we had moments that were just ours, like the ones we have on Fridays," he said, clearly lowering his tone on the last sentence as the blade sank deeper and deeper into Louis' heart.

Like the ones we have.

Harry would have wished for what they had but with someone who wasn’t Louis, and that was probably the most painful thing Harry could have ever said.

"I want him to be sweet and make me laugh, cuddle with me and make me feel important, someone who respects me," he continued and then shrugged. "I don't think I have high standards, do I? I mean, I think those are normal things that every couple should have."

Louis just wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him hard and scream I treat you this way, I’ve always had. I'm exactly like this with you, always. Why can't you see me?

But he didn’t, because he was a coward and because, although he mirrored what Harry had just said, he clearly wasn’t enough. He already realized that was the problem, not being enough or not living up to Harry's expectations. But to hear him say it, even though Harry had made no reference to him and probably never even realized how deeply and sweetly Louis loved him, that was a different kind of pain. The realization that he wasn’t enough, thrown so kindly and so suddenly in his face, was something Louis would never have the strength to digest and accept.

"I'm sure you'll find him, H," he murmured in a low voice and then bit his lip to hold back the tears.

Harry sighed slightly and then moved across the sofa until he lay down, resting his head on Louis' lap. He began to draw imaginary lines on his thigh, as he always did, and then let out another sigh. "Well, it doesn't matter if I never find him. I have you, though, and that's enough for me."

The wave of pain, always lurking and ready to overwhelm him, washed over him again. That's enough for me, because Louis was just a replacement, a patch put in place until the right person would come along for Harry, a mere piece of cloth ready to be removed. Maybe that's why Harry acted to him as if they were a full-fledged couple, because Louis was something vaguely resembling the person Harry thought might be right for him. But Louis wasn’t enough.

A tear escaped his control, slow and relentless and unstoppable. Even this pain he would keep to himself as words began to form in his head. Words he would never tell Harry, but simply write down in black and white and sell to someone who would sing the heartache he felt, someone braver than himself.

Like every Friday, Harry fell asleep before the movie was over, and like every Saturday morning, Louis woke up on the couch, his face pressed against the backrest, one of Harry's arms wrapped tightly around his waist and his body pressed against Louis’ back. He closed his eyes and snuggled against Harry's chest, enjoying his warm breath on his neck and the pleasant shivers it caused him, hoping Harry wouldn’t wake up so he could enjoy that moment a little longer.

He already knew what would happen that night. Harry would ask him at some point in the evening if he wanted to go to some club with him, Louis would be indecisive because he would see Harry in someone else's arms, but eventually he would answer that he would stay home to take care of some work stuff. Harry would then come home with someone and Louis would spend the night listening to him moan thanks to someone who wasn’t him, and then cry quietly until he fell asleep.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the point of view, Harry moved behind him and stretched his legs, tightening his grip around Louis' waist.

"Good morning," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his neck like the perfect best friend.

"Good morning," Louis replied, unable to suppress the smile that spread across his lips. "Did you sleep well?"

"Hmm," Harry murmured, snuggling closer to his back and tucking a leg between his own. "Very well. As always when I sleep with you," he giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Louis had gotten used to it by now. They were familiar with behaving this way with each other, but that didn't stop the butterflies in his stomach and the way his heart beat faster every time.

"It's your turn to make breakfast today," Harry muttered, but made no sign of moving.

Louis, for his part, had reached the point where he found himself every time they slept together and woke up embraced like that, especially when Harry talked about their daily routine. Even if it was something mundane, like whose turn it was to make breakfast, it was one of their many routines that made him feel good, and Louis loved it. Or rather, that domesticity and care even in the smallest things, that care for each other aroused him in a way that few things could.

That was why he would have preferred not to get up, because his body was a bloody traitor and he didn't know how to hide the little problem that had formed between his legs, because to get up he would inevitably have had to climb over Harry.

"Hmm, you do it," he almost whimpered.

"Lou..."

"Please!" he added, stretching the vowel dramatically and using the tone of voice Harry usually couldn't resist.

With a sigh, Harry muttered how unfair that was, and after tickling his tummy, he burst out laughing before getting up from the sofa. Louis sighed in relief, grateful that at least he had been spared what would surely have been a humiliation.

Unfortunately, in all their years of friendship, it had happened before that his body had betrayed him, especially when he was a boy and his hormones didn't cooperate in Harry's presence. But he had always found an excuse to justify the incident and luckily Harry, being the perfect stupid best friend who understood absolutely nothing, had never asked questions or made comments.

He had at least been able to pull something good out of one of these embarrassing experiences, to say the least, only last year when at the ripe old age of thirty, he had been overcome by a hormonal crisis after entering the bathroom while still half asleep and seeing Harry completely naked and wet in the shower, he had written a song that he later decided to call Medicine.

When one of the artists he often worked with bought it and recorded the demo, Louis had done everything he could to dissuade Harry from listening to it because he would’ve been too embarrassed. How was Louis supposed to explain to him that after seeing him naked, he had fantasized about what it would be like to kneel down in front of Harry and watch him from below while Louis gave him pleasure?

Fortunately, Harry hadn’t asked any overly specific questions, just giggled and teased him for a week, walking around the house humming the song winkingly while Louis just wished the earth would swallow him up every time. When Harry had asked him who the song was about, Louis had been his usual vague self and told him it was a figment of his imagination. Which, unfortunately, was no lie in that case.

After having breakfast, Louis locked himself in his room because he had so many thoughts in his head that he was sure that if he didn't write them down in black and white, it would explode at some point and he would die of spontaneous combustion.

He had been working on these lyrics for weeks, something was always wrong and he couldn't find the right verse that would work perfectly as a bridge. He'd already decided on the title and it was probably the most romantic song he'd ever written, but as always, it was all Harry's fault.

Louis often struggled to write more poignant songs that could somehow reflect the pain he felt inside, the feeling of not being wanted and not being enough, but in the end he could never bring himself to finish them because despite everything, Harry was love and happiness to him. He was home, his safe haven and always would be, no matter what would happen between them.

One of the things Louis was aware of was that he was also trying to distract himself from the thought of what would happen that night when Harry would come home with someone, and he knew that continuing to mull it over would definitely not help him finish the song. He wasn't in a hurry because he had already decided, ever since the idea had come to him on one of their Larry nights, that he would never sell it because it was too personal. It was Harry, the way he'd always made him feel since they'd first met in the school corridors.

Harry had looked like a lost puppy in his first year, and Louis had known from the moment his gaze fell on those green eyes and tousled curls that he would be a part of his life. When he thinks about it now, fifteen long years later, Louis is convinced that it was a kind of love at first sight. They had become instant friends, and although Louis' bubbly and exuberant personality was in stark contrast to Harry's more docile one, they had always been a perfect match, like two opposites attracting each other.

Louis had helped him to acclimatize, and over time Harry had grown in confidence, slowly breaking down the walls he had built up around himself as a form of protection through the enormous shyness inherent in his character, while Louis had learned from him to also appreciate the peace and quiet, the comfort in shared silence.

He had realized that he was in love with Harry in his first year at college, when he could no longer justify his feelings for his friend with excuses. He had already known he was gay, but in that moment, looking back on everything he had always felt, Louis had realized that Harry was the first boy he had ever felt interest for and had consequently made him aware of his own sexuality.

Although the realization of his interest in Harry had been frightening, Louis hadn’t been at all surprised, for at least he had a modicum of common sense and had been able to admit to himself that the way he was behaving towards Harry, and especially the way he felt for him and with him, was not typical of two best friends. But it had taken him much less time to realize that Harry didn’t reciprocate in any way.

There had been a time when Louis had thought Harry had figured it out, when they'd decided to move in together during their third year of college and Harry had made it a habit to come home with some guy several nights a week, to then give him a detailed report the next morning, just like he did before and after the many dates he'd gone on. Fortunately, they had never gone too far and the longest relationship Harry had had, had lasted two weeks at most, but Louis had started to think that Harry was only telling him all that stuff to imply that he wasn't interested in him.

After Harry had finished his undergraduate studies too and started his internship at a prestigious law firm, things had improved, if only slightly. The late night outings had drastically decreased and were now limited to Saturday nights only, as had the dates, but everything had deteriorated again when Harry had been hired at the firm and the pressure he had been under during his internship and the fatigue had subsided. He hadn’t gone back to his old habits, but he had been going out more often and had more dates, mostly concentrated on weekends and Wednesday evenings as he didn't work on Thursday mornings.

Louis, on the other hand, had never been able to have a relationship or a proper date where he could say he'd enjoyed himself. His casual hookups dated mainly from his college days, when frustration had been at its peak, but once he'd accepted the situation and realized that all the people he was dating or sleeping with were not Harry, he'd realized that he was only making it more painful.

It had been torture, sitting in a restaurant in front of a potentially nice date or in his bed, intent on fucking angrily into someone while in his head there was only HarryHarryHarry. So he had finally surrendered to his own suffering and had come to the conclusion that he was only hurting himself, and might hurt someone else in the process, because he wasn't able to give any of them what they probably needed.

Now, hunched over his diary, he continued to write and erase angrily, because the idea behind that song had always been to describe as best he could how he felt about Harry, how he made him feel and how he saw Harry through his eyes, but the anger and frustration at what he knew was going to happen that night only distracted him and made him put negative feelings on paper when the meaning of the song should have been a different one.

As he was about to erase another sentence, he froze with his pen on the paper and stood staring at the page as he heard a knock on his door. Here was the moment that would precede yet another stab in his overtired heart.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair and then over his face, hoping to pull himself together. "Come in."

When the door opened, Louis didn't dare lift his eyes from the paper, for he knew what he would find. Harry, with perfectly coiffed hair and wearing his tightest jeans and a shirt that was probably silk in a color that matched one of the many lip glosses or lipsticks he liked to wear.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," Harry said, entering the room and sitting down on the bed. "Are you all right?" he then asked in a puzzled tone.

Louis sighed softly and put his pen down on the desk, forcing himself to look up at him. When he did, however, what he saw wasn’t what he had expected to find.

"Aren't you… going out?" he asked, frowning as a knot formed in his stomach, mixed with a glimmer of hope that lit up in his chest at the sight of the gray sweatpants and green hoodie Harry was wearing. Louis' hoodie.

"No, change of plans. Gemma called me to tell me that they finally gave her the keys to the library," he explained in an enthusiastic tone and with a bright smile on his lips.

Louis mirrored his expression, clapping his hands, jumped up from his chair and hurried to sit next to him on the bed. "Oh my God, I can't believe it! She must be so excited!"

Gemma, Harry's older sister, had always had a passion for reading and books in general. Even as a child, she had often holed up in the tree house that Louis, Harry and Gemma's fathers had built, vowing that one day she would open her own bookshop. That had never been possible, however, because in the small town where they had grown up, premises that could be bought and used for that purpose had always been in short supply. But when the librarian had died just a year earlier, the municipality had decided to put the premises up for sale because, according to the mayor, no one read books anymore. Gemma had never been able to accept it and with many sacrifices and loans, to which Harry and Louis had also contributed, she had finally managed to purchase the premises.

The paperwork had taken longer than expected as they had had to convert the public library into a private one as the council had given up ownership, and also because Gemma had become pregnant in the meantime and therefore had other priorities, but now the time had finally come.

"Yeah, I only understood half of what she said because she was just screaming and crying," Harry chuckled, then his expression darkened. "There's just one small problem..."

"What's that?" Louis asked, frowning.

Harry sighed. "The library's been closed for a year and it's a mess, dust everywhere and stuff like that, so she's asked me for the favor of cleaning it for the opening because she obviously can't do it."

"Okay, um, so what's the problem?" Louis asked, still confused.

"The problem is that you know what she's like... She gets carried away with excitement and you can't reason with her. She's decided that the opening has to be on Sunday because there's the Fall Solstice celebration, so she expects lots of people to come," Harry explained, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Louis widened his eyes. "This Sunday?"

"Yeah," he mumbled with a snort, then turned to face him, and Louis already knew what was coming. "You know I wouldn't ask you, right? I'm even willing to pay you, I don't care, but..."

"Of course I'll help you," Louis interrupted him without even thinking about it, and then chuckled. "And you don't have to pay me, don't be ridiculous."

Harry grunted and threw his arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. "You're the best friend in the world, Lou. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he murmured into his ear and then scattered kisses all over his face. "I'll let mom know you'll be there too," he added before standing up and leaving the room with a bright smile and those damn dimples.

Perfect. Louis would never refuse to help him anyway, but he hadn't thought about the fact that they would inevitably spend time with each other's family. He loved Harry's and they loved him, he had always thought of them as a second family. That always had its downsides, though.

Seeing Harry in their childhood homes, where they had practically grown up together, where they had learned to know and love each other, or being hugged by his mother while she whispered in his ear how much she thought of him as a son, and seeing his parents do the same to Harry... All of this always caused him almost unbearable pain in his heart, and as much as the thought made him feel guilty, he was grateful that neither of them went home often because it was too far from where they had settled.

One thought he couldn't turn off, however, was the What a pity repeating like a mantra in his head, as Louis was sure he would rather undergo the ordeal of spending time with their respective families than hear Harry moan under someone else's hands in the next room.

*

The car ride had been anything but silent. Harry hadn’t stopped talking for a second during the entire four-hour drive, but Louis had listened to him as usual, even though this was the third time he'd told him about the case he'd been working on for the past few months. Louis didn't care; he would have stayed still and listened to Harry's rambling voice for more than twenty-four hours in a single day. It was his most important muse, with that slow, cadenced way of speaking.

Often the people they hung out with would judge Harry by the way he spoke, interrupting him in the middle of a speech because he was too slow, and Louis felt compelled to argue with them every time. He loved it, like everything about Harry, especially because it suited his tame and calm character perfectly and was in stark contrast to Louis' frenetic speech and boisterous nature.

They had decided to greet Louis' parents first, knowing that Gemma wouldn't let go of them after meeting her. Louis would have wanted to go alone because he knew he wouldn't bear the sight of Harry hugging his family and the furtive glances from his own mother, because she knew. Somehow, she had always known, and despite the long conversations she’d had with him, especially when Louis was younger, about how unfair it was to reduce himself like that and that it would be better to talk to Harry about it and take a risk because he didn't know how it would turn out, Louis had never had the courage to do it in the end.

When they had left his old house, Louis felt even more miserable than he already was, thinking back to the way his mother had looked at him when she hugged Harry. Louis knew that look, it was an I'm sorry mixed with a You are such a fool. Louis knew he was, just as he knew he was a coward. His mother, like the biggest backstabber, had even brought up one of the last released songs Louis had written, Defenceless, but it was clear she regretted it when Harry had started a conversation about how raw and sincere the song was and how it showed vulnerability, whatever the topic was that had inspired it and whoever the person was that had made him feel that way.

Louis had watched him with an impassive look and a raised eyebrow, as always, because he really couldn’t believe he was in love with such a dumb person.

Fortunately, the stopover at Harry's house had only lasted a short time, just enough to hear from Harry's mother tell him how much she had missed her favorite son. As always, Louis would have liked to tell her that Harry was anything but a brother to him.

Gemma, on the other hand, had been the worst, and Louis only wished he could have dug a hole at least fifty meters deep and then buried himself in it. He had never given it much thought. He thought he'd always been good at hiding his feelings for Harry from the eyes of others, but he hadn’t considered that his mother had probably told Harry's mother, who in turn had told Gemma. Or maybe Louis was so fucked up that everyone knew how he felt. Well, everyone except Harry, obviously.

After Gemma hugged his brother, she turned her gaze to him, flashing a smile that Louis knew all too well. It was the mischievous smirk she always used before she pulled out one of her mischiefs, and Louis had always dreaded it.

"I see you're still friends," she said as they both entered the house.

"Why wouldn't we be?" Harry asked with a furrowed brow and a confused look that Louis couldn't help but roll his eyes at.

Gemma had stared at him impassively for a few seconds, then shook her head before turning around and muttering, "My God, Harry, you're so dumb."

"Hey, I'm not dumb!" he replied grumpily, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Louis could do nothing but stand petrified in the doorway, staring over Harry's shoulder with wide eyes and a pleading look. It had never happened that someone pointed out this... situation, and Louis couldn't help but wonder how long she had understood or if anyone in Harry's family had ever tried to talk to him to make him see reason.

He had never thought about it, but at that moment and for the first time, Louis thought that maybe someone had, but Harry had clearly expressed his disinterest in him. Perhaps Harry knew it too, and had always known it, but had never been able to openly reject him, probably for the same reason Louis had never had the courage to confess, for fear of ruining the relationship for good.

Fortunately, Gemma didn't add anything else. She changed the subject and began to explain in detail what they were supposed to do in the bookstore before handing them the keys and a detailed list, because men are definitely unreliable.

*

The building was only a few minutes away by car and was on the main road, wedged between a clothing store and a café. When Harry inserted the keys into the keyhole and the lock clicked, the door opened and the smell of stale hit them, making them wrinkle their noses.

"Ew," Harry muttered with a grimace of disgust, coughing at the musty stench that permeated the place.

"I'm gonna open all the windows before we choke to death," Louis said, fumbling for the light switches and sighed when the lights came on, then he went to the two large windows on the opposite side of the room and threw them wide open.

The library was exactly as he remembered it, a large room full of bookshelves on the left side, small sofas here and there, a few tables on the right side where he and Harry had spent whole days bent over books, and next to them the checkout counter. Gemma had explained to them that they had to move the tables to the back of the room, under the windows, to make space for the opening and that they had to place the catering, which would be arriving the next morning, on them.

The most time-consuming part, however, would be clearing out all the shelves and dusting every single book, then arranging everything alphabetically on the shelves, which were already organized by genre.

"I think we should leave the tables here for now so that we can put the books on them, it'll be quicker," Harry suggested.

Louis nodded, took off his sweatshirt, placed it on a chair and took a deep breath before getting to work. He started with the shelf closest to the door, while Harry started with the one on the opposite side of the room so that they could divide their work evenly and then meet in the middle.

The section he started with was the one for fantasy, and after only half an hour's work he groaned because obviously his section was the messiest one. It was the one where he had spent most of his time, nose pressed to the covers of the books looking for the right one for him, whereas Harry had always preferred to read more romantic books.

As he dusted the bookshelf, he wondered what little Louis would have thought if he had known that he would realize he was in love with little Harry just a few years later.

"Hey, Lou," Harry called to him from the other side of the room.

"What's up?"

"Um, not to be self-centered or anything, but... I've always wondered why you never wrote a song about our friendship," Harry said in a completely disinterested tone as Louis almost tripped over his own feet and hit his head on a shelf.

"Uh... I don't know..." he muttered in a voice too quiet to be heard, but of course Harry didn't give up.

"I'm a bit offended, you know? I mean... You make up all these imaginary situations about romance and all that, but you've never written about us?"

Louis was glad they were in two different sections so Harry couldn't see him silently bumping his head on a shelf over and over again, because this was probably the most surreal conversation they'd ever had.

"Well, I mean..." he muttered as he regained a shred of dignity and cleared his throat. "Artists prefer that kind of song, so I adapt to what they ask for."

"Ask for? I thought you were the one who writes and sells, not them making specific demands," Harry objected in a puzzled tone.

"Fuck it," Louis muttered in a low voice. "Yeah, but I know what they like best because I've worked with a lot of them for years and... and they prefer that kind of writing, that is."

"Well, but you could write it just for me, right? I know for a fact that you have a wonderful voice, so you could record it and I'd be the only one to hear it," Harry said. "Uh, if you want to, of course. I don't want to force you or anything, but... but it would be nice so I'd always have an indelible memory of you."

Louis bit his tongue as he thought about how many indelible songs there were about him, and blushed when he thought about what Harry had said about his voice. As a writer, he also often worked on melodies to make his work easier and to understand how a song might turn out, so he recorded demos which he then sent to the record companies he worked for.

Harry had often heard him singing while strumming his guitar, sitting back on their couch or on Louis' bed listening to him with a rapt expression. Listening to Louis play and sing a song he had written for Harry. He was always terribly nervous when it happened, terrified that the moment would come when Harry would have an epiphany and finally open his eyes, but that had never happened, unfortunately or fortunately.

"I could do it, why not?" Louis replied, suppressing a sigh and banging his head against the shelf again.

"What's going on? Are you alright?" Harry asked as his voice got closer and closer until he stepped out from behind the shelf. "I heard a noise."

"Uh, yeah, I..." Louis lowered his gaze to his own hands. "I just dropped this," he said, lifting the book and forcing himself to smile.

Harry looked at him for a few more moments and Louis felt warmth rise to his cheeks. He was aware that Harry knew him better than anyone else and that he had probably noticed something strange about his behavior.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked with a wrinkled expression on his face.

"I'm fine." Louis nodded and then cleared his throat. "Come on, let's continue," he added, fervently hoping that Harry would drop the subject of songs.

Harry stared at him for a few more seconds before sighing slightly, turning away and disappearing behind the shelf again. Louis took a deep breath and exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a moment and biting his lip to hold back the tears. It wasn't just the conversation they’d just had that had upset him, but rather the context in which they found themselves, in a place where they had grown up together, with their own families just minutes away and millions of bittersweet memories that Louis held in the most precious place in his heart.

On the table that he could see from where he stood, he had hugged Harry when his friend had confessed to him that he liked boys and that the guy he had a crush on had rejected him, and on that very table Louis had scribbled Through the Dark, the first song he had ever written. It had started out as a poem that he'd meant to give to Harry in a letter to comfort him, but it had eventually turned into something else, something more intimate that he couldn't understand yet at the time, so he'd kept it to himself.

Leaning against that very shelf, sitting with his knees drawn up and on which he had placed his diary, he had written a few sentences to vent his frustration when he too realized and admitted to himself that he liked boys and that the poem he had written for Harry was actually hiding much more.

It was a few years later that he had found himself sitting in the same position, leafing through that same diary, which by then contained dozens of poems he had written, and he found those same sentences again.

He still remembered the feeling of loneliness he had felt, the fear of not being accepted because of his sexuality and the terror caused by the feelings he realized he had for Harry. And he remembered how those phrases had given rise to Only the Brave, one of the songs he carried most in his heart, which summed up all the feelings he had experienced while discovering his sexuality.

Harry had always been there for him, tireless and faithful like the best friend he had always been, but that loneliness had never left him, provoked and fueled above all by having to accept and hide what he actually felt for him. But Louis, almost fifteen years later, had never regretted anything because despite everything, it had all been worth it.

Harry, his friendship and the way he made him feel had always been worth it, and Louis would never change anything about the past. If he could go back, he probably would have done the same, because the suffering and loneliness caused by unrequited love was nothing compared to what Harry had been able to give him all these years. And that was also the reason why Louis had always preferred not to say anything, because losing Harry would have been far more painful than having to live with unrequited love for the rest of his life.

The following minutes, perhaps hours, passed in a silence broken only by the sound of cleaning sprays and the rustling of books being quietly organized on the shelves. Then Harry spoke, and the smile on his lips was clear from the tone of his voice.

"Do you remember that nasty storm while we were at the playground? We came here and-"

"And Mrs. Conrad wouldn't let us in because we were covered in mud?" Louis giggled at the memory.

Harry burst out laughing. "None of our parents would pick us up, and after waiting for hours for the rain to stop, we were forced to walk back."

"And we had a fever for a week," Louis concluded, laughing in turn.

"Mum was furious. As punishment, she told me that I wouldn't see you for a week after I got better, but I cried so much that she finally gave up."

Louis froze for a moment, a book lifted mid-air. "Really? I didn't know that," he muttered.

Harry suppressed a laugh. "It would have been impossible since we went to school together, but still, do you think I could have survived a week without you?"

A faint warmth spread across Louis' face as his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't the first time Harry had said something like that, but knowing that Louis had always been essential to him, almost a necessity that he couldn't live without, always caused a warmth in his chest that he loved to feel.

"Do you remember your eighteenth birthday?" Louis asked after a few seconds of silence. He didn't answer Harry's rhetorical question, preferring instead to change the subject.

"Unfortunately, yes," Harry muttered and Louis could almost see the grimace on his face. "In my defense, I still say that the cake was definitely bad."

Louis burst out laughing, dropping a hand on his stomach and tilting his head back. "Sure. You threw up in front of everyone for hours because of the cake, obviously, and not because you drank a bottle of warm vodka without having eaten anything and without ever having drunk alcohol before."

"Then I can say it was your fault. As the eldest among us, you should have stopped me," Harry muttered in an offended tone.

Louis suppressed a laugh, shaking his head. "I wasn't your babysitter or your brother."

Harry was silent for a few seconds. "Of course not," he replied in a tone that Louis found almost indignant. "That would have been creepy," he added in a lower voice.

"Creepy? Why would that be?" he asked, frowning. Not that Harry wasn't right, it would definitely have been creepy if Louis perceived him that way, but obviously Harry didn't know that.

Harry didn't answer right away and when he spoke, he changed the subject, but that didn't bother Louis too much because it was just the way Harry was. He could switch from one topic to another so quickly that Louis sometimes struggled to keep up with him.

"Gemma asked me when you're gonna dye your hair."

"And why would I do that? I like it the way it is," Louis objected in an almost offended tone, pushing his lips forward into a pout.

"That's what I told her too. Your hair looks good, a bit graying, I think it's-" Harry said, then stopped.

"It’s, what?" Louis pressed him, twisting his lips into a smirk as he peeked out from behind the shelf he was rearranging and spotted Harry two aisles back, his cheeks slightly flushed. When Harry raised his eyes to meet his own, Louis' breath caught in his throat as he saw his lip clenched between his teeth. He thought about how much he would have paid to know what Harry was thinking at that moment, but his friend shrugged and cleared his throat.

"It looks good on you, that is," he finally muttered and began arranging the books in his hands between the shelves again.

"You can say I'm hot. I'm not offended, H," he teased him as he begged his heart to give him a break when he saw the color rise in Harry's cheeks.

"You know I think that," Harry muttered, continuing to organize the books and avoiding his gaze.

It wasn't the first time they'd joked like that, of course, especially since Harry had never shied away from complimenting him on his look and Louis loved getting compliments from him, even if he always got a twinge in his chest the next few moments. What he didn't understand was why Harry looked so embarrassed at that moment, given it wasn't the first time it had happened.

Louis looked at him with a furrowed brow for a few more moments before shrugging his shoulders and deciding to let it go, because Harry continued to ignore him and he didn't have the mental strength to investigate that attitude any further. He returned to his lane and sorted out the last of the books in the school section before moving on to the next one, which was divided into classic novels and romance novels.

A smile curled his lips as he remembered Harry as a teenager sitting on that same floor with his legs bent, nose pressed to yet another book balanced on his knees, reading some love story that he would then tell him. Louis had always loved those moments, he would spend hours listening to his ramblings about how beautiful love was and how he hoped to find the perfect person for himself one day.

In the early years, one of his favorite moments had been curling up in the tree house for hours, lying on the wooden floor with a blanket over their legs and the drizzle in the background, listening to Harry's tales of how much he would love a love story like the one he had just finished reading. When it happened, Louis wasn't quite aware of his feelings for his friend yet. But even though he found those kinds of books boring, Louis never interrupted him and let him talk, while he imagined what love was like when he was too small and naïve to really understand its meaning.

When he had become aware of his feelings at the age of nineteen, though, those moments had turned into something else.

Harry had always remained the same, they had always remained the same, holed up in that small tree house that had become their safe haven, even as they got older. But listening to Harry talk about love and how much he longed to find it, while Louis could do nothing but think of all those years he had spent in that same house, having the same conversations, and of how much he had always been in love with Harry even when he was too young to understand it, had made those moments harder to bear.

His heart beat imperceptibly faster when he found a particular book, one of Harry's favorites. It was one of the many he had read and told him all about, but this one in particular he had read so many times that Louis had lost count. Every time Harry finished it, he would tell him about it as if he had never read it, and just in time, Louis would stop and listen for hours.

Harry always had an engaging and captivating way of telling things, and Louis had tried to imagine the things he talked about, what it would be like to have a love of his own to write about and tell stories about. It had happened after all, even if what he wrote wasn't the story he really wanted to tell and didn't have the happy ending he'd often dreamed of.

He stroked the worn cover with his fingertips, tracing the embossed title How not to fall for the love of your life, and opened the first page with a sweet smile as he recognized a few pencil scribbles. Harry always did this, even though Mrs. Conrad, the librarian, scolded him constantly when he returned books, but he couldn't help it. They were silly little drawings, small stars and hearts here and there, but when he turned the first page, Louis' heart stopped for a few seconds before it started beating faster when he saw the letters H & L surrounded by little hearts.

As he continued flipping through the pages, he noticed other small inscriptions in the margins, more like phrases from the text that must have particularly impressed Harry, but he also saw other writings identical to the one on the first page. What made his heart sting again, however, were the Louis surrounded by hearts or the LOUIS ILY scrawled here and there.

Rationally, he was aware it meant nothing. He knew that Harry had always loved him and that they had both played a crucial part in each other's growth and paths, inseparable like the best friends they had always been, but his heart had a different idea. Perhaps it was more of a hope than anything else, although he had no idea what those writings meant and they were at least ten years in the past.

As he continued to flip through the pages, he gasped when he saw a small envelope slip from one of them and fall to the floor. He stared at it for a few seconds, especially at the Louis written on the white paper.

"Hey, Lou," he heard Harry's voice from the lane next to his.

Louis didn't know what it was, he didn't know if there was anything inside or if it was an empty envelope, but he knew for sure that it belonged to Harry because the name had been written in his handwriting. And he also knew that he shouldn't have done it, because it could contain something private written by a young Harry, but curiosity got the better of him. He quickly picked up the envelope, feeling to the touch that there was something inside, and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans before jerking his head up and seeing Harry emerge from behind the shelf.

He blushed terribly, convinced he'd been caught red-handed and not having the faintest idea how to justify what he'd just done, but a smile formed on Harry's lips as he looked at the book Louis still held in his hands. Louis snapped it closed and cleared his throat with the thought of shoving it between the other books on the shelf, hoping to avoid any possible embarrassment.

"I can't believe it! I haven't seen that book in years, what memories!" Harry exclaimed, slipping it out of his hands before Louis had time to put it in its place.

It didn’t have to be embarrassing, after all, those notes meant nothing and had been written by his best friend when he was a teenager anyway. They meant absolutely nothing. Louis would have to prepare himself for another awkward situation where Harry would make it perfectly clear to him that those writings had been scribbled by a little boy who loved his best friend.

Harry opened the book to the first page, and Louis clearly saw the way his smile and facial expression changed abruptly, replaced by an obvious blush and embarrassed expression. Harry snapped the book shut and cleared his throat, then walked past him and put the book on the shelf before clearing his throat again.

'Uh, how much longer do you have? It's nearly dinner time," Harry murmured, avoiding his gaze and still red in the face.

Louis frowned at that attitude. He wasn't stupid, he'd seen the first page and knew those scribbles were there, but he didn't understand why Harry looked so embarrassed. They meant nothing. His heart skipped another beat while his head screamed at him to let it go, because he knew that if he asked Harry for an explanation, he would end up in another friendzone situation and he wasn't in the mood to endure another one.

Louis cleared his throat, he was so nervous and he could feel heat spreading across his own cheeks. He was aware that Harry knew him better than anyone else and he was pretty sure he understood that Louis had read those scribbles. However, Louis knew they wouldn't talk about it because they meant nothing to Harry, at least not anymore, and because Louis was a coward.

"I'm almost done," Louis replied, turning away to sort through the last remaining books.

"Do you... do you want to go to Bern's for dinner? Or my place?" Harry asked. The nervousness was clearly audible in his voice, making everything unnecessarily more awkward than it should have been.

Louis felt a pang of guilt grip his stomach as he thought back to the letter burning in the back pocket of his jeans. He shouldn't do it. He had the feeling that what was written there would break his heart for the umpteenth time, even though a part of him repeated that his mind was fantasizing too much, as usual, because there was probably nothing important there.

"No, I'm going home. I want to spend some time with my parents," Louis replied, trying to keep his tone indifferent. He didn’t think he had quite succeeded, if the trembling in his voice was any indication.

Harry was silent behind him for a few seconds and Louis found it harder than he would have liked not to turn. "Okay," he finally whispered before walking away.

Louis closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then let out a quivering breath before shelving the last of the books and leaning against the shelf. He felt the need to leave that place, too overwhelming with the thousands of memories and what had just happened, what he had read and the envelope, the guilt he felt for wanting to go home and rushing to read the contents.

No further words were exchanged as they organized the items they had used or as they left the library and closed the door behind them. As they stood outside in the cold fall sun, Louis wondered what was going on and why Harry was acting the way he was, why the pages he had read had clearly created that rift between them, and why Harry seemed so embarrassed.

Perhaps Harry had been interested in him once, but that was over now and he didn't want Louis to find out? Maybe he was afraid Louis would think he still had feelings for him when he didn't? If that was the case, if Louis found out that there had been a time when Harry had felt something for him but Louis had never realized it, if he had become aware that he had wasted his only chance of being reciprocated... He wasn't sure he could bear that pain, his heart certainly couldn't.

The drive home was silent, unusual for the two of them. Harry seemed deep in thought, more distant than he had perhaps ever been, and in all those years Louis had never wanted to be alone and away from him as much as he did at that moment. When they parted, the awkwardness and tension between them was so palpable that Louis felt that choking feeling in his stomach again, combined with confusion at Harry's behavior and the urge to leave, mixed with the desire to hug him and erase whatever had happened.

Dinner with his parents was equally silent. His mother had tried to talk to him, but as the second person who knew him better than anyone else, she had probably realized that Louis wasn't in the mood. He had been waiting for nothing but the moment when he would crawl into his childhood bedroom with that damn envelope, but when he found himself at the foot of the bed, turning it over in his trembling fingers, guilt assailed him again.

He felt as if he was betraying Harry's trust, even though what was written there was surely years old, but while he knew that its contents would potentially break his heart for one reason or another, curiosity finally won out.

With a final resigned sigh, he turned the envelope over and opened it, sliding out the one page folded and straightening it, recognizing Harry's messy handwriting. He couldn’t suppress a gasp as he read the first words, even though he already knew the letter was addressed to him, and he wasn't even able to hold back the tears and gut-wrenching pain that ripped through his chest.

Hi Lou, today has been a strange day. I never thought it would come, you know? We grew up together, we did everything together and I always told you everything. I think you're the only person who really knows me and has always understood me, and sometimes I think this moment was inevitable. When I told you I was into boys, I was so scared of your reaction, I don't know why. I mean... I knew you would accept me, but on the other hand I was very scared, but then months went by and I thought about it so much that I understood why I was so afraid. I don't know if I will ever have the courage to say it out loud or give you this letter, but maybe it's easier to write it down? I don't know... in any case, I don't think I'll ever give it to you. What if it ruins our friendship? I don't think I could live without you.

When you told me that you like guys too... for a second I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to ruin your coming out, it was just your moment and I didn't want to ruin it, also because if you told me you didn't return my feelings, I would have ruined it for both of us. You probably would have hated me.

I haven't said it yet and maybe you can't tell what I'm afraid to even write about? I don't know... this letter is a mess. Anyway... I like you. There, now I said it. I like you very much and when I'm with you I always feel butterflies in my stomach.

I want to be with you all the time, every day, but I'm really scared of what might happen if I tell you. You've only just realized that you like boys, so maybe I should wait a little longer? Maybe it would be too much for you now... I don't know. Anyway, this letter is more of a vent from me than an explanation, so I'll probably never give it to you.

Now I have to go because you've arrived home and we're going to the movies, although I'd just want to stay in bed and cry because I feel so lonely sometimes and can't tell anyone how I feel. I wish I could tell you better how I feel and what I feel for you, but I don't think I have the courage yet. After all, I've only recently realized that I like you. I don't know what will happen in the future, but I hope you will always be with me no matter what, because I really love you (not like a best friend, but still).

I don't know if I'll ever give you this letter, but whatever happens, know that you will always be in my heart, Lou.

Harry 9/28/2011

Louis was sure he was about to have a heart attack. He didn't know whether it was because his heart was beating like never before or because of the stabbing pain he felt in his chest.

Harry had felt something for him at some point, and it made no difference that the letter was nearly fifteen years old. He hadn’t said anything to him when he found out Louis was gay so as not to ruin his moment. And if Louis had thought he could never love him more than he already did, he had definitely needed to reconsider.

He couldn't quite blame himself for never realizing it, because he had become aware of his feelings for Harry after he had written the letter, but he couldn't help but wonder how long Harry had felt something for him. Weeks? Months? Years?

What made it even more painful, however, was the fact that Harry himself had never realized that Louis had felt, and still felt, something for him too, and that Harry had never made a step because he didn't know. What would have happened if they had both admitted their feelings to each other? Would they have started a relationship? Would they have got on well? Would they have been happy together?

Hadn’t Louis been a coward, and Harry too at this point, he might have spared himself the fifteen very long years of suffering he had experienced watching Harry from afar, hearing him in someone else's hands, writing songs about his pain and his love for him.

He couldn’t be angry with him or feel resentment though, because in the end, Louis had done the exact same thing. He had held back his feelings for fear of ruining their friendship, and in hindsight, there was little he could do about it now.

What Louis couldn't get over, however, was the fact that he would never forgive himself for missing the one chance he could’ve had to see his feelings being reciprocated.

If Louis had thought he couldn't feel worse than he had always felt, after reading that letter he could do nothing but reconsider as he curled up under the covers and fell asleep with his face wet with tears, knowing that he had lost the love of his life, of whom he was convinced could've been the love of is life.

*

When Louis opened his eyes the next morning, he felt even worse. A feeling of unease and deep pain weighed on his chest, slowly taking shape and reminding him of what had happened just a few hours before. And with the memory came the thought of what would happen when he saw Harry again, how Louis would look at him with the knowledge of what he had read and the guilt for having done so. But he would have to keep that to himself too, because he would never have the courage to admit that he had invaded Harry's privacy, not least because it would surely have caused deep embarrassment between them.

Above all, Louis was definitely not prepared to be told that it was just a memory of the past, a fleeting feeling from a young Harry that didn't really know what love was, and that the Harry of the present definitely didn't feel those feelings anymore.

He was grateful that his parents were still asleep when he left the house shortly after sunrise. He couldn’t feel the excitement as he watched people rush through the streets of the village to organize the party for that evening, and he couldn't rejoice that he would see Harry again shortly to finish the last preparations in the bookstore and wait for the catering to arrive.

Louis had always wondered if there would be a time when his heart wouldn’t skip a beat at the sight of Harry before it would start beating furiously in his chest again. Until this moment, despite all the years that had passed, it hadn't happened yet. What excited him the most was the fact that he had grown up with Harry, in every sense of the word. He had witnessed every single change in him, not only on a character level, but also on a physical level.

When they first met, in their mid teens, Harry was a slim boy without a hint of muscle and a bit shorter than Louis, but it hadn't taken him long to mature physically. A few months after they had met, they had started arranging evenings just for the two of them. They spent most of their days together, but it was around this time that Friday Larry nights had been born. They would order a pizza, lock themselves in Louis’ room and hide under the covers in his small single bed to share stories, hopes and dreams for the future. They had always been the protagonists of each other's future stories, because there had never been a time when either of them had considered life without the other.

Louis remembered the nights they had fallen asleep in each other's arms, close to Harry's back in that bed that had comfortably accommodated them both for a while, until Harry had grown so fast that those nights weren't quite as comfortable anymore, though neither of them had ever complained. Louis certainly never had, because it had given him the excuse to hug Harry a little tighter to his chest.

Watching Harry now, walking on those long, luscious legs that he definitely would have liked to feel wrapped tight around his waist, with that oversized blue sweater and the hair tousled by the morning breeze, the rosy and full lips and the hint of a smile that seemed almost embarrassed, Louis couldn't find a good reason why he shouldn't have fallen in love with Harry.

Harry was love, he was the embrace he’d always found refuge in, and the voice that had always gently guided him through his life. He was beauty and sensuality with a hint of clumsiness. He was simply the love of his life, and despite everything, Louis couldn’t really feel guilty about how he felt. It had been inevitable to fall in love with him, because Harry was perfect for him, Louis was sure of it. Or at least, he would have been if Harry had ever given him a chance.

That last thought ruined everything, leading him to bite his lip, trying to stifle the tears as he remembered the letter and the fact that Harry had wanted to give him a chance, but Louis had never noticed.

"Good morning," Harry murmured in a low voice.

His hands were tucked in his coat pockets, his shoulders hunched and cheeks flushed, his gaze shifty, and a forced smile tugging at his lips. Louis knew him so well that he was sure he was embarrassed. Maybe because of the scribbles in the book that they both knew Louis had seen? Perhaps Harry remembered that he had left the letter in the middle of that same book? Maybe for some reason he was embarrassed by the idea of Louis finding out that he had once had a crush on him? Whatever the reason, Louis had a feeling that neither of them would broach the subject and so they would never talk about it.

"Good morning," Louis replied, trying to smile as genuinely as possible.

He hated seeing Harry like this, feeling this distance between them. It was what he had always dreaded, this awkward silence where no one knew what to say or how to act, and in this case it was even more difficult because Louis couldn't understand the reason for Harry's behavior.

"Uh, I have a request for you. I already know what you're going to say, but you know how Gemma is... I'm telling you, though, she won't take no for an answer," Harry said as he opened the bookstore door, closed it behind them and switched on the light. The musty smell was almost completely gone, replaced by the sweet aroma of vanilla and cotton from the fresheners they had scattered around the room.

Louis sighed wearily and rolled his eyes. "What does she want?"

Harry didn't meet his gaze once, immediately busying himself with rearranging the tables and getting the tablecloths and other things to put on them out of a cupboard. "Remember Liam and Ed from biology class? Apparently they work in the industry too."

"I know, I met them a while ago at some events and listened to some of their songs. They're pretty good, I like them," Louis replied and then frowned in confusion. "What do they have to do with me?"

Harry stood on one side of the table, opening an orange tablecloth with fall decorations and unfolding it, while Louis stood on the other side, grabbing the other end and arranging it carefully on the table.

"Uh, well... Gemma asked them to perform here tonight. They're going to sing a few songs from their new album and, um..."

"Harry," he interrupted him with a dry sigh.

Harry huffed, twisting his fingers nervously before biting his lip, then huffed as a blush spread across his cheeks. "She wants you to perform tonight."

Louis stared at him impassively for a few seconds as he processed what he had just said, then burst out laughing. "Perform? I write songs, Harry, I don't sing. What the hell is wrong with Gemma?"

"I told her!" he exclaimed, raising his arms in exasperation. "But I assure you, she won't take no for an answer and she said, uh... Well, I don't know exactly what it means, but she told me to tell you that she'll tell me something she found out some time ago if you don't."

Louis froze, the glass bowl in his hands nearly sliding to the ground and threatening to shatter into a thousand pieces as he stared at an indeterminate spot on the floor, thinking about how Gemma was definitely the kind of person who wouldn't shy away from revealing his feelings to Harry. He didn't know exactly how long she had known, probably all along, and just for a second he thought about allowing her to do it, because maybe it might be easier that way and because he was a coward.

But then a series of disastrous images followed in his head, of Harry looking at him with a disappointed look before he moistened his lips and told him in his slow-talking way that Louis was his best friend and that he was sorry because he didn't return his feelings, to then turn around and walk out of his life forever.

So Louis decided that maybe it would be the lesser of two evils to perform for a damn song that, like all his lyrics, was written specifically for Harry, in front of him. Besides, he thought, Harry was so blind and deaf that he wouldn't understand the meaning anyway, as he had never had.

"Okay," he said, after taking a deep breath.

"What?" Harry's eyes widened and he dropped his mouth wide, obviously surprised by the speed with which Louis had given in.

"I’ll do it," Louis continued, shrugging his shoulders and turning away so as not to show how fragile he felt at that moment.

"Lou, you know you don't have to do it," Harry insisted.

"I said I will," he replied in a far too surly tone.

Harry was silent for a few seconds and then sighed. "Well, then this secret must be really important," he finally muttered. "I wonder why she knows and I don't. I mean, I thought we tell each other everything, don't we? I know you hate singing in front of people. So if you agreed so quickly, it's because you don't want me to know, right? You don't trust me? You think I'd judge you or-"

Louis sighed dryly, slamming the bowl down on the table with too much force. "Bloody hell, Harry! I didn't tell her anything at all, she must have figured it out herself, and I don't always have to tell you everything about myself, so give me a fucking break!" he shouted too forcefully, but soon regretted it as he saw the hurt look on Harry's face and the way his eyes began to glisten. "I'm sorry, I didn’t-"

"No, it's fine," Harry interrupted him, shaking his head and turning away.

Louis didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was biting his lip to hold back the tears, and he knew that once Harry was alone, he would probably cry, maybe because Louis hadn’t shared his big secret with him, or maybe because of the rude way Louis had treated him. Louis, for his part, would surely cry because he had experienced another moment of loneliness where all he wanted to do was shout out to Harry how he felt about him.

The morning, lunch break and early afternoon passed in deafening silence, while Harry's eyes kept shining and Louis had the words on the tip of his tongue, ready to come out once and for all as he thought about what song he could sing that wasn't too obvious. After hours of pondering, he came to the conclusion that it wouldn't make any difference what he would sing because Harry had already heard every single song he had written. Or almost every one.

He had even tried to apologize, but each time Harry found something else to do and on the umpteenth attempt, Louis realized he was avoiding him, so he decided to let it go. He was sure it wasn't just the way Louis had treated him, because the night before and that morning Harry had acted weird as well, embarrassed, and Louis just hoped that this evening would somehow fix everything that had happened between them.

As they parted to return to their respective houses to prepare for the opening and Harry barely said goodbye to him, Louis felt an empty feeling inside so suffocating that for a moment he feared he would faint. It wasn't the first time they had argued. Their very different personalities had often caused them to clash over the years, but he could clearly sense that this time something was different. He thought that maybe it was just in his head, the guilt of having read the letter and knowing.

When Louis returned to his house and locked himself in his old room, he managed to do the one thing he always did when everything became too much for him.

Flipping through the pages of his diary, he stopped at the last one where he had sketched that song. It was perhaps the one with the most edits, deletions and new versions, and also the one he had worked on the longest. He had stopped counting by now, he had worked on it for months but was never satisfied, and he still couldn't find the right lyrics to make up the bridge of the song.

He read those phrases, which he now knew by heart, over and over again and then, thinking of the hurt look on Harry's face, of the time that had passed and that he felt he had wasted, and of the fear of losing him that had been with him for too long and that had become more concrete and tangible since he had read the letter, he put his pen to the paper and the words almost wrote themselves. He couldn't suppress the lone tear that streaked his face or yet another pang in his heart, because perhaps for the first time in all these years, Louis felt like he had reached the finish line.

Rationally, he had always known that he couldn't live his whole life like this, clinging to a hope that never materialized, and perhaps because of the context he was in at that moment or the fact that he would be singing that very song that night, a part of him knew that the moment he had always dreaded more than anything had arrived.

The truth was that he was just tired. He could no longer physically and mentally live a half-hearted and basically unhappy life. He would probably lose Harry forever and he was aware of that, but it wasn't until that moment, as the black ink faded beneath the tears, that he somehow managed to truly realize that he couldn't have what he really wanted and that maybe it would be better to get away from Harry before he saw him permanently in the arms of another, because Louis knew that moment would come sooner or later.

It wasn't the first time he'd had these thoughts, the idea of telling him and putting an end to his misery, but a part of him believed that eventually he wouldn't have the courage to do so. He would let his music speak for him, hoping that Harry would understand, but he knew that wouldn't happen because Harry had never understood and never will.

But Louis was convinced that if Harry didn’t get the message for the umpteenth time and Louis was therefore forced to tell him once and for all how he felt, he would ultimately lack the courage to do so, as he always had.

Louis had promised that he would keep this song to himself, too intimate and vulnerable, but he had never thought he would reach the point of no return anytime soon, and he didn't think there was a better way to express how he felt. It had always been this way for him, writing was the only way he could really use to communicate his feelings, so he knew there wouldn’t be a better way to do it. And if he had to mess it up, at least he would do it with style.

*

"I guess you took my threat seriously," Gemma commented, giving him a half-smile that seemed almost knowing. "I'm really curious to hear what song you've chosen."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Louis replied with feigned indifference.

Gemma burst out laughing and then shook her head. "You know, Lou, as much as Harry and I have a lot in common in terms of DNA, I can safely say that I'm not as stupid as he is," she said without leaving much room for interpretation. She knew it, and now Louis had the confirmation.

The opening had been going on for a few hours now. Ed and Liam's performance had attracted a lot of visitors and Louis was a nervous wreck. He couldn't sit still for a second, always finding something to do to distract himself from what was going to happen next. And although he would never admit it, to avoid Harry.

It hadn't actually been hard, because his friend had been ignoring him all evening, so on top of the anxiety he felt about the upcoming performance, there was the confusion for Harry's strange behavior. It wasn't the first time they had argued or Louis had spoken to him so harshly, so he didn't understand why Harry was acting this way this time. Whatever the reason, Louis tried not to dwell on the incident too much, too wrapped up in his own nervousness.

He had practiced for hours that afternoon, even though he had long since written the melody to accompany the lyrics of the song. Although he had never been as restless as he was at that moment, he was still thrilled that he had finally managed to finish the song and make it exactly as he had always imagined it. Vulnerable, raw, a reflection of his feelings and what Harry had always made him feel, how Harry appeared before his eyes and what Louis had always been willing to do for him. For them, even though they had never been anything other than best friends and there really was no such thing as them.

When it was his turn, Louis was no longer sure whether he would make it. His fingers trembled terribly around the strings of his guitar, as did his body, and he was grateful that he was sitting down, because he wasn't sure he could stand on his legs. It wasn't the dozens of people staring at him or the fact that he had to perform that scared him. It was the fact that he would be doing it in front of Harry, the fact that part of him hoped he would finally understand, while the other feared it would happen. It was his green eyes fixed on him, and the hint of an encouraging smile on his rosy lips, even though he had been avoiding him all day, because Harry was like that, always ready to push everything else aside to support him.

Because in the end, despite everything, they had always been HarryandLouis.

Maybe the song wasn't the right one, it wasn't upbeat or engaging or appropriate for the evening, but he didn't care. It was right for him and for the first performance of his life, and probably the last, and Louis wouldn't have wanted to get to the finish line if not with it.

He took a deep breath and as he closed his eyes, everything around him disappeared. The sunset beyond the large windows, the buzz of people, those green eyes he could still feel on him...

The moment his fingers began to caress the guitar strings was probably the first time Louis felt truly brave, as his voice began to float gently, bringing with it feelings he could no longer control.

"If I could fly, I'd be coming right back home to you..."

He had spent so much time with this song that he no longer had to focus to remember the words or the notes to it. It had now become automatic, as if it was a part of himself. And the only thing on his mind, as he sang his heart out, were the moments he had spent with Harry. Not the big ones, like their diplomas and degrees or birthdays, but the small ones and only their.

The Friday evenings, the nights spent awake watching their favorite show or talking about whatever was on their minds; an unruly curl tucked behind an ear or a sweaty fringe brushed back before a kiss on the forehead; a cup of steaming soup during a horrible cold or going out in the middle of the night just to satisfy a craving for chocolate ice cream. The giggles after a fall down the stairs, the teasing in the early days of living together, the arguments over the silliest things like the toothpaste-stained sink.

It wasn't the big moments that had made him fall in love with Harry, that would have been too easy and obvious, and it wasn't just the fact that Harry had always stood by him in good times and bad ones. That had helped build their relationship and their trust in each other. What had penetrated his heart until it had taken root in the deepest part of his soul were the little moments, the things that may seem insignificant on the surface but meant everything to Louis.

When he reached the much-struggled bridge, that was what scared him the most. The Know that I'm just wasting time and I hope that you don't run from me, the admission of the realization that Louis had wasted all that time behind a fear that was bigger than him and that he could no longer manage, with a heart now out of control; the irrational terror of losing Harry forever, but the knowledge that Louis was still here, showing what he felt for his eyes only, for him only.

It was only when the last notes spread through the silence that had fallen in the room that Louis found the courage to open his eyes. He blushed terribly when, after a few long seconds of absolute silence, applause rang out, with everyone present murmuring or offering their congratulations. A smile slowly opened on his lips as he let his gaze wander around the room, and only now, when he saw some of those present wiping tears from their faces, did he become aware that he too had been crying without realizing it.

When his gaze finally landed on the other side of the room and on Harry, Louis parted his lips in surprise. It wasn’t the first time he'd seen Harry moved after hearing one of his songs. Apart from the people who were part of the industry and to whom he sent demos, Harry was the only person he had ever let listen to demos recorded with his voice.

Yet, seeing him standing there with his arms wrapped around his chest and an almost pained expression on his face, tears still streaming down his face, Louis felt a twinge in his chest, the most painful he'd felt in fifteen very long years. And then, watching Harry turn away after meeting his eyes and making his way through the crowd towards the exit, was the realization of his greatest fear.

Harry probably understood, and although Louis had expressed in that damn bridge the hope of not seeing him run away from him, that was exactly what was happening.

"Well, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Gemma asked, making him wince and interrupting his thoughts.

Louis lifted his gaze to her, noticing the almost mischievous smile on her lips. But the pain of what had just happened and the regret mixed with the desire to be able to go back even a few minutes and not sing that song, the longing to be able to turn back time and leave things as they were before was too much to bear.

Gemma sighed wearily and placed a hand on her prominent belly as she shook her head with an almost amused expression. "You're such an idiot, Louis. Both of you," she said, then snorted and raised a finger before Louis could retort. "Go to him, or I will."

"Gem..." Louis murmured, closing his eyes and unable to hold back the sob that escaped his lips.

"Louis, go," she repeated in a tone that brooked no reply.

As much as Louis would have liked to spare himself all of this, he knew that he had chosen this path and when he had decided to do so, he was aware of the possible consequences. And although part of him would have liked to go back to wallowing in self-pity and settling for the only relationship he could ever have with Harry, the other part was tired of living this half-hearted life.

He heaved a resigned sigh; after all, this was what he had wanted, wasn't it? That Harry would finally understand, even though Louis wasn’t at all thrilled with the turn the situation had taken and wasn't at all eager to be rejected. He put his guitar down next to his chair and stood up, smiling and murmuring a thank you to the people who complimented him as he walked through the crowd.

As he stepped out of the bookstore, his heart began to beat wildly in his chest as he saw Harry leaning against the wall a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the now dark sky.

He took a deep breath and repeated in his head that everything would be alright, that he could come up with an excuse to fix everything should the situation take an unpleasant turn, because he would never let Harry out of his life, even if it meant locking his feelings away in the deepest part of his heart forever.

With slow steps, Louis caught up to him as he begged his heart to give him a moment's reprieve until he was only a few steps away from him. Harry didn’t turn, although Louis noticed the way he looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat, thinking of something to say, anything, though he had no idea what the right thing might be, not knowing what Harry had concluded from the song, if he had concluded anything at all.

"If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?" Harry asked, interrupting the silence and catching him off guard.

Louis knew him so well that he knew what the question would be, but he didn’t know if he would have the courage to answer it in the end. He had promised himself that he would finally admit his feelings because he couldn't go on like this anymore, but in the end he also knew himself and knew that he wouldn't have the courage.

"Yes," he answered anyway, because he had never been able to deny himself to Harry.

"Who is the song for?" he asked, but before Louis could faint from how fiercely his heart was beating and before he could think of an answer, Harry moved away from the wall and met his gaze with an unintelligible expression before continuing. "And please, Lou, for once don't give me the usual bullshit like It's made up stories or I was inspired by a couple I saw or the other crap you always say. Do you think I'm stupid? I know when you're lying, I know you better than anyone, so please tell me the truth for once."

Louis parted his lips and widened his eyes, because although he had known Harry for most of his life, he had never seen this brash and determined side of him, at least not in relation to the songs he wrote, the claim to know who they were about.

"Why don’t you ever wanna tell me and you lie every time or avoid the subject? Don't you trust me or don't you want me to know who the person you're... you're in love with is?" he continued, and it didn't go unnoticed how his tone dropped and he almost whispered the last sentence while his face contorted into a grimace that Louis would describe as painful. "Don't look at me like that, you're obviously in love with someone. Shit, Louis, I don't lack comprehension skills, especially with the song you just sang!"

Louis was so shocked by Harry's behavior, by the fact that he admitted that he had understood that his lyrics were about a real person and that he had never believed the lies Louis had always told about them, that he was unable to respond. But most of all, he was stuck with the knowledge that he had really achieved the finish line because he couldn't lie again. If he had, Harry would have figured it out and they would have argued, causing a potentially irreparable rift in their relationship anyway.

"You know, Lou, maybe I've always been wrong about our friendship." Harry gave him a bitter half-smile and shook his head, lowering his gaze for a moment before bringing it back to Louis'. "Whoever he is, he's really lucky to have you," he said in almost a whisper before turning away.

The last thing Louis saw was the tear lining his cheek and a hurt expression he hadn't seen on Harry's face even in the worst moments they'd faced together, as well as the realization of Louis' greatest fear as he watched Harry walk away from him, in every sense of the word.

And as much of a coward as he had been all these years, as much as the fear was greater than anything he had ever felt, the one promise Louis had made to himself and that he would never break was that he would never let Harry go, no matter the price he had to pay. He would think about the consequences and how he could fix everything another time.

"You're right, you've been wrong all along," he said suddenly and without giving it much thought, because in reality he had no idea how to say it.

Harry paused, keeping his back to him and not turning around. Maybe it was for the best, Louis thought, because he was sure he wouldn’t have the courage to say it if he looked him in the eye or watched Harry's reaction before rejecting him.

Louis moistened his lips as he thought about what to say and then huffed, knowing there was no right way to say it.

"I've never lied about my songs, not really. I- I take inspiration from the things I see, hear and experience every day." He sighed wearily and lowered his gaze to the asphalt. "That I experience every day with you."

He exhaled shakily as he felt his legs give way and his heart beat like never before.

"There's never been anyone else, Harry, and- and every single song I've ever written, was with you in mind or- or for you. I never had the courage to say it because I knew I would lose you, as you never showed any interest in me, and every time you came home with someone it was another demonstration, so I rather-"

"How long?" Harry interrupted suddenly.

Louis jerked his head up, meeting his gaze for the first time and frowning at the sight of his tear-streaked face and an expression he could not decipher in any way. "What?"

"How long… how long have you had feelings for me?"

Louis lowered his gaze again. He couldn't take back what he'd said at this point, but he wasn't sure if telling him how long he'd actually been in love with him would improve the situation.

"Tell me," Harry insisted.

Louis sighed, coming to terms with the realization that he couldn't hide anymore, then lifted his head again and met Harry's eyes. "I think since... since I was seventeen, more or less."

Harry's eyes widened. "Seven- Fifteen bloody years, Louis?" he exclaimed in an incredulous voice. "You've had a… crush on me for fifteen years and never thought to tell me!?"

Louis couldn't suppress the bitter chuckle that escaped his lips. "A crush..."

"What… what do you want to call it?" His tone, almost a whisper, wasn't an accusation, and if Louis hadn't been so terrified by what was happening, he would have had a clear mind to admit that it almost looked like hope was on Harry's face.

Anyway, fuck it all, he thought, because he had nothing to lose now.

"Love, Harry. Let me call him by its name, okay? Because I loved you- I’ve been loving you for so long and I'm so damn tired of hiding it, I really can't take it anymore. And I'm sorry if... if this is gonna ruin everything now, I understand and I'll accept whatever decision you make, if you don't want anything more to do with me, and-"

In the frenzy of his words and wild gestures, he didn't even notice the moment Harry quickly blurred the distance, cupped his face in his hands and pressed his lips firmly to his. Louis remained motionless for a few seconds, or maybe a few hours, unable to comprehend what was happening. Harry was kissing him.

Harry Styles, the love of his life and the because behind his every song, was kissing him.

"You're so fucking stupid," Harry murmured as he broke away from his lips.

"Harry, what- what are you doing?" Louis whispered. He couldn’t bear the illusion of finally having him for himself, only to realize that it was all a joke or that the kiss didn't mean as much to Harry as it did to him.

"I'm loving you," Harry replied with such disarming simplicity that Louis felt like he was about to die for good. "I've been in love with you for... Christ, what an idiot." He pulled away, ran his hand through his hair and then over his face, meeting his gaze. "For fifteen years... give or take."

Louis looked at him impassively for a few seconds as he realized the meaning of those words and all their implications sunk in. He had always imagined this moment as happy, as achieving something he had always dreamed of, but instead he felt almost empty. They had wasted fifteen years of their lives hiding from each other, when instead they could have spared themselves all the suffering and love each other from day one.

"But- but all the people you bring home and-"

"Lou," he interrupted, chuckling. "I've never slept with any of them. We just did some... stuff but I never got to go all the way with them because..." He didn’t finish the sentence and looked away, blushing visibly.

"Why?" Louis pressed.

Harry sighed, biting his lip. "The last time I had sex with someone was, like, three years ago? And, uh, well... Let's just say it didn't end well, so..."

"What do you mean?" Louis asked, increasingly confused.

Harry snorted, and if possible, he blushed even more. "Well, uhm, I called him by your name while... So, uh, that was so embarrassing and I realized I was just... trying to forget how I felt about you, so... Yeah."

At any other time, Louis would surely have laughed in his face and made fun of him for the rest of his life, but not at that moment. Harry had called another man by his name while they were having sex because Harry loved him. Yet Louis couldn't help but think about all the things he'd had to go through for nothing.

"Are you telling me that- that we wasted all this time... for nothing?" Louis murmured.

Harry gave him a reassuring smile, moving closer to him again and taking his face in his hands. "Not for nothing, because even though we weren't together, we've loved each other every single day."

Louis looked at him, losing himself in the sincere green of his eyes and his warm comforting hands, while his heart began to beat to the rhythm of a new melody. Not a melancholy, poignant one, and although his lyrics had always been about love because that was how he felt about Harry, this new melody had a different sound.

It was still Harry, because it had always been him, but whereas before it had played on the notes of a best friend, now the melody tasted of braveness and luck. And, most importantly, of Home.