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It started as friendly competition.
Many Decembers ago, Harry’s arch-nemesis—Louis fucking Tomlinson—had sauntered into the Manchester neighbourhood where Candy Cane Lane sparkled brightest. With those striking cerulean eyes that seemed to hold all the mischief in the world, a shaggy mop of chestnut hair that looked unfairly soft and perfectly tousled, and a three-day-old scruff that screamed effortless charm. Louis had arrived in all his infuriatingly gorgeous glory. From the moment he stepped foot into the neighbourhood, carrying a box labelled “Christmas Magic Supplies,” Harry knew his peaceful reign as the neighbourhood’s festive king was over.
Candy Cane Lane, located in the Crestwood neighbourhood of Manchester, was mostly known for its ridiculously gorgeous displays. It was established in 1968 when a family who had recently moved from Scotland started what would become a beloved tradition—decorating each house for the holidays. Over time, the surrounding communities and the prestigious Crestwood neighbourhood embraced the idea, transforming the area into The Christmas Lights Festival —a dazzling event for families and friends across the city to enjoy throughout December. Visiting Candy Cane Lane became a cherished tradition for many, including the Styles family, who made it an annual highlight.
Ever since Harry was able to talk and dream about the future, all he ever wanted was to buy a house on Candy Cane Lane. His family had long grown tired of his obsession with Christmas, but Harry never outgrew it. Now, at 29 and financially stable, he finally made his dream a reality, moving into the festive neighbourhood purely for his obscene love of the holiday season. Being the little kid he was at heart, he was thrilled to decorate his home on Candy Cane Lane and compete for the best-decorated house, hoping to make it as magical as he’d imagined.
Being up north, especially in the winter, was difficult due to the tirelessness and endless piles of snow building up each December, but Harry was never sick of it. What did threaten to ruin the magic, however, was the neighbour who moved in four years ago and decided to give him a run for his money.
Now, much to Harry"s dismay—and to the growing buzz around Candy Cane Lane—Louis had earned a reputation as one of the best house decorators on the block over the last four years. His displays were bold, chaotic, and undeniably eye-catching, making kids’ faces light up and even the most serious adults crack a smile.
Harry, who was the reigning champion of the Candy Cane Lane house decorating competition for the two years before Louis’ arrival, couldn’t help but feel a sting of resentment as Louis’ theatrical flair slowly overshadowed his perfectly polished displays. Begrudgingly, and perhaps as a show of holiday spirit (or so he told himself), Harry had decided to welcome his new rival with a plate of baked goods.
As he approached Louis’ brightly lit doorstep, his tidy decorations reflected faintly in the frosted window; the gesture felt ridiculous. But when Louis opened the door—grinning from ear to ear in a reindeer-patterned sweater that was both ridiculous and oddly charming—Harry realized with a sinking feeling that this “rivalry” might be more complicated than he thought.
Honestly, it shouldn"t have been this stupid, but it was.
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The First Meeting
It wasn’t precisely a peace offering but a small effort to be civil before what Harry already suspected would be a holiday-long rivalry. As he approached his neighbour’s front door, his gaze drifted to the half-finished display sprawled across the lawn—a chaotic explosion of inflatables, mismatched lights, and an oversized sleigh that looked one gust of wind away from collapse. It looked like someone threw up Christmas on the house, a drastic contrast to Harry’s house, which was much more minimalistic in taste.
“Bold choice,” Harry muttered, stifling the urge to roll his eyes. Harry knew that the man who moved in next door was probably not even close to being done organizing as Mr. Dunphy from across the road told him that his new neighbour won the title of ‘Best Decorative and Interactive House’ of his old city and city?! He felt like he couldn’t compete with that.
Harry had to meet this person.
When the door opened, Harry was immediately caught off guard. Barefoot and wearing a sweater adorned with a lopsided reindeer, his neighbour stood there, his impossibly blue eyes sparkling with an almost infuriating mix of mischief and charm. His chestnut hair was delightfully messy, his scruffy jawline adding an edge to his otherwise festive appearance. Harry’s carefully rehearsed greeting promptly dissolved.
“Hi,” Harry managed, holding out the plate stiffly.
“I thought I’d welcome you to the neighbourhood. I’m Harry Styles. It"s nice to meet you finally.”
They shook hands, and Harry tried not to linger on how warm the man"s grip felt against the chilly November air. As he now knew, his neighbour, Louis Tomlinson, flashed a grin that was equally charming and mischievous as he introduced himself.
“Well, aren’t you sweet? Aren’t you the lad I need to beat this December?” Louis’s wicked grin widened as he took the cookies, studying Harry with unabashed curiosity. Caught off guard, Harry blinked.
“Uh… yeah, I guess that’s me.”
“Figures,” Louis said, his tone dripping with teasing amusement. “You’ve got that polished, overachiever vibe going on.”
Harry stiffened, his competitive streak flaring. “And you’ve got… creativity,” he replied, trying not to sound too biting.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asked, leaning closer with a mock-offended expression.
“It means the competition isn’t looking as promising as the buzz at the community league made it out to be,” Harry shot back with a smirk.
“Says the one with the misshapen tree.”
“What?”
“I said,” Louis repeated, stepping out onto his porch with a sly grin, “say’s the guy next door with the misshapen tree, right?”
Harry froze, staring at Louis like he’d just insulted his very existence. Compared to the chaos of Louis’s yard—half-inflated snowmen, mismatched lights, and an unsteady sleigh, most likely due to the recent snowstorm they had—Harry’s decorations might as well have been plucked from the cover of a holiday home magazine. Every detail was immaculate, down to the perfectly tied bows and the mistletoe hanging proudly above his front door.
“What do you mean, misshapen? For the record, my tree is brilliant. Especially compared to those monstrosities by your front door.”
Louis arched a brow, looking briefly taken aback before recovering with a laugh. “It’s a Whoville Christmas tree! It’s supposed to be wonky!”
Harry’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Wonky? That’s one way to describe the disaster in your front yard. It really does look like Santa threw up Christmas in your yard. Is that also why your wreath looks like it’s been through a snowstorm?”
Louis gasped, clutching his chest in mock offence. “Excuse me! That ‘snowstorm’ is handcrafted—one-of-a-kind art.”
It looked like a child had made it; to be fair, it probably was, but Harry couldn’t and wouldn’t acknowledge that thought.
“If by art, you mean glue gun chaos, then sure,” Harry quipped.
They locked eyes, the tension electric and far warmer than the November chill. Louis broke the stare-off first, his grin growing wider.
“Guess we’ll just have to let the neighbourhood decide whose decorations reign supreme.”
“Oh, they will,” Harry shot back confidently. “And it won’t even be close.”
Louis pointed a finger at him as he backed into his house. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Styles. I have two trophies under my belt, and this street isn’t big enough for two champions. And don’t worry champ,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I’ll try to go easy on you this year. Wouldn’t want to hurt your title too much.” He winked at Harry.
Harry’s jaw tightened, the temptation to snatch the cookies back almost overwhelming. Instead, he forced a tight smile. “Good luck with that,” he said, his tone sharper than intended.
As he turned to leave, Louis called after him, “Thanks for the cookies, neighbour! I’ll save you a front-row seat for my victory party!”
Harry let out a breathy laugh, watching him disappear inside with a jaunty wave. It wasn’t even December yet, but Harry could already tell—this holiday season would be anything but boring. Harry didn’t look back, but his ears burned in frustration the entire walk home.
❆
That was almost four years ago now. This was the fifth year of their ‘civil’ rivalry, both going two for two on winnings, and this year would decide the tiebreaker of whose in the lead of the best-decorated house on Candy Cane Lane.
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The Chaos
It started with a string of lights.
Harry was in his kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and minding his own business, when something caught his eye. Through the window, he spotted Louis in his backyard, precariously balancing on a ladder with a string of lights draped over one shoulder. The scene was almost comical—the ladder wobbled dangerously every time Louis reached for the next hook, and he looked like he was muttering to himself, presumably cursing the lights for tangling yet again.
Harry froze mid-sip, holding his Frosty the Snowman mug, his competitive instincts kicking in like clockwork. He squinted, trying to make out the pattern Louis was working on. Icicle lights? Harry’s stomach tightened. Those were a crowd favourite. He would bet his entire tiny Christmas village (which was extensive; it filled up the whole window display for the visitors, and he was extremely proud of his collection) they were the expensive LED kind that changed colours on your phone. It was only the beginning of November, and the festival didn’t start till December 1st, until the beginning of January. Dickhead Tomlinson wanted to get a head start.
So, it had begun, the 2024 competition was on, and Louis was already leading mentally in Harry’s mind.
Setting his mug down with a clink, Harry quickly slid out of his chair and crept closer to the window, peeking out the blinds like the stalker he definitely wasn’t (but looked like). He watched Louis take a step back, hands on his hips, surveying his handiwork. Even from this distance, Harry could see that his neighbour’s display was already shaping up to be... annoyingly decent.
Harry"s competitive streak roared to life. Last year, Louis had been close—too close—to stealing Harry"s crown, and this year, the stakes were higher. No way was Harry going to let him win.
“Not on my watch,” Harry muttered under his breath, already mentally cataloging his inventory of lights, inflatables, and timers. He needed to outshine Louis—not just figuratively but literally.
His phone buzzed on the counter, snapping him out of his scheming. It was a text from his other neighbour and best friend, Niall.
Niall: R u decorating already? I see Louis’ got lights up, ur slipping bro
Harry groaned, rolling his eyes. As if he needed the reminder. He glanced out the window to see Louis fiddling with what looked like a projector. A projector?!
That was it. The gloves were off.
Harry marched toward his storage closet, flinging it open with a dramatic flair. Inside were boxes upon boxes labelled Christmas Supplies: Handle with care, stacked neatly and waiting for their time to shine.
He didn’t just want his house to be the best this year—he wanted it to be legendary.
❆
So, Harry got to work.
He’d been keeping the minimalist theme going strong each year, while Louis, on the other hand, was not.
Standing back at his masterpiece, Harry admired his decorations" clean, elegant lines. Every string of white lights was perfectly aligned, framing his windows and door in a subtle yet dazzling glow. The wreath on his front door was simple but classic, accented with a neat red bow he got inspiration for from Pinterest.
Overall, the look he was going for this year was a giant gingerbread house come to life. Whereas the year before that got him to win and be tied with Louis, was a Winter Wonderland theme—complete with sparkling icicle lights cascading from his gutters, a snowflake projector casting soft patterns onto his house, and a life-sized snowman family snow sculpture (which cost him too much money) on the snowy lawn. It was the display that screamed sophistication and effort, a delicate balance of whimsy and elegance.
Last year, however, Louis had gone for an outrageously over-the-top North Pole theme. There were inflatable elves, a sleigh with mechanical reindeer that moved, and a Santa Claus that bellowed "Ho, ho, ho!" every five minutes. It was gaudy, chaotic, and, much to Harry’s dismay, utterly enchanting to the neighbourhood kids. Thankfully, Louis had a couple of days where his outlets somehow (totally wasn’t his fault) decided not to work, so only half of the decorations were lit up, much to the visitor"s disappointment.
This year, Harry was determined to outshine Louis not with quantity but with quality. Every gingerbread-inspired detail of his decorations was deliberate, from the candy-cane-striped poles lining his pathway to the faux gumdrops perched on the edges of his roof. He had even enlisted his mum’s help in making (more like baking because they looked good enough to eat) the life-sized cardboard gingerbread cutouts that now stood proudly in his yard.
Standing back, Harry felt a surge of pride. His house practically glowed with festive perfection, the essence of a classic Christmas dream. But his confidence faltered as his eyes wandered across the street to Louis’ monstrosity—an explosion of inflatables, mismatched colours, and a sleigh that somehow had a disco ball. Louis had gone all out this year, turning his lawn into something that looked like Santa’s workshop on steroids.
Harry crossed his arms, scowling. “Tasteful,” he muttered sarcastically, though he couldn’t help the slight pang of doubt that crept in. For all its chaos, Louis’ display had a charm that was hard to ignore, just like the man himself.
“Not this year, Tomlinson,” Harry muttered, his competitive streak flaring. This was his year. It had to be. He needed it to be.
His finishing touch was the classic Candy Cane Lane snowman, which read “Happy Holidays from the Styles family,” plastered at the beginning of the walkway to his front door. Along with it was a sign that read, “Please admire the decorations from the pavement. Thank you!”
It was everything Harry wanted his display to be: sophisticated, cohesive, and, most importantly, a stark contrast to the chaotic explosion of colour and excess happening next door.
He turned his gaze to Louis’s house again, and his jaw tightened.
Harry couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped him. “It’s not even coordinated Santa’s workshop,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
Yet, despite the chaotic nature of Louis’s display—or maybe because of it—Harry had to admit that it somehow worked. The whole setup radiated a kind of unbridled joy that felt... contagious. It was ridiculous, over-the-top, and precisely what Candy Cane Lane was about.
“Going with the minimalist gingerbread house this year, huh?”
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Louis’s voice behind him; he didn’t even hear the crunching of the snow under his boots. He turned to find Louis leaning against the hedge separating their properties with a smug grin. He could see Louis’ breath in the cold winter air, a long Santa-like beanie on his head, and what looked like a new ridiculous lopsided reindeer sweater holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate. How can someone look this attractive in hideous Christmas sweaters?
Harry clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay composed. “It’s called tasteful elegance,” he replied coolly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Louis tilted his head, his grin widening as he sipped from his mug. “Tasteful elegance, huh? Is that what we’re calling the candy cane poles and gumdrops? I would’ve thought you were going for a Bake Off special.”
Harry bristled. “Better than turning my yard into a Santa’s workshop ride gone wrong.”
Louis barked a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that maddeningly charming way. “Touché. But you have to admit,” he gestured toward his chaos of decorations, “it’s got character.”
“Character,” Harry repeated, deadpan, turning back to look at the riot of colours and lights. “If by character, you mean a headache waiting to happen.”
Louis shrugged, utterly unbothered. “At least my house says ‘joyful celebration’ instead of ‘Pinterest threw up and called it a day.’”
Harry turned to glare at him, but there was no actual malice in it. He hated how Louis could get under his skin so quickly—and worse, how Louis seemed to enjoy every second of it.
“I’ll have you know, my gingerbread theme is meticulously planned,” Harry shot back, his voice edged with mock indignation. “It’s cohesive and thoughtful, unlike whatever... this is.”
Louis smirked, stepping a bit closer. “Careful, Styles. You might hurt Rudolph’s feelings,” he teased, nodding toward the garishly blinking reindeer standing in his yard, their noses flashing brightly. Harry swore he could see the glare from his kitchen window.
Harry rolled his eyes, but Louis added before he could fire back, “Besides, it’s not about perfection, is it? It’s about making people smile. And I think I’ve got that in the bag.”
For a moment, Harry faltered. He hated how, despite the tackiness of Louis’s display, there was something undeniably infectious about it. As much as he prided himself on creating the most polished and sophisticated decorations, Louis’s chaotic charm couldn’t be ignored—and neither could Louis himself.
“Well,” Harry said, schooling his features into a smirk. “We’ll see what the judges think about that, won’t we?”
Louis grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “We will indeed. And when they knock to announce my win, I’ll make sure you have front-row seats to my victory sleigh ride around the neighbourhood.”
“Keep dreaming, Tomlinson,” Harry retorted, but his tone had no bite—just the faintest hint of amusement.
Louis chuckled, raising his mug in a mock toast. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Styles.”
As Louis turned and strolled back toward his house, Harry watched him go, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. Sure, Louis’s display might be a monstrosity, but Harry couldn’t deny it: Christmas on Candy Cane Lane had become much more interesting since Louis moved in. And somewhere, deep down, he suspected this year’s competition wasn’t just about lights and decorations anymore.
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The Sabotaging
Harry didn’t sleep.
Couldn’t sleep was more like it.
Louis’ timer for the Christmas lights and decorations didn’t turn off at 11:30 p.m., as the community league requires. So, he took it upon himself to enforce said rules. It definitely wasn’t because he couldn’t sleep with the blinding lights facing his bedroom window, constantly reminding him of what was truly at stake: his dignity.
He also didn’t want to admit to himself that he was worried about Louis winning, so late last night, when he was sure Louis was asleep, he woke up and found himself wandering onto Louis’ lawn. Armed with a pair of wire cutters and a flashlight that he swiped from his junk drawer. Harry crouched low like a soldier on a covert mission. The crisp early December air nipped at his cheeks, but the adrenaline coursing through him kept him warm.
The yard was even more chaotic up close than he’d imagined. A tangled mess of cords snaked across the lawn, diving in and out of the snow, connecting an army of inflatables and enough lights to give the North Pole a run for its money. The giant Santa on the roof loomed above him, its plastic face frozen in an eerie grin that made Harry shudder.
“This is for the greater good,” Harry muttered under his breath, gripping the wire cutters tightly.
He crouched by a particularly obnoxious inflatable snowman, one that bobbed back and forth in the breeze like it was taunting him. With one swift motion, Harry snipped the cord. The snowman deflated with a pitiful wheeze, collapsing onto the ground in a sad, crumpled heap.
Harry smirked, satisfaction blooming in his chest. “One down…”
But before he could move on to the next victim, a voice cut through the silence.
“Careful, Styles. Santa’s watching.”
Harry froze, his heart leaping into his throat. He spun around his flashlight beam, landing on Louis, who was standing on his porch, arms crossed and with an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a hoodie, looking far too relaxed for someone catching a neighbour in the act of sabotage.
“I, uh—” Harry stammered, quickly hiding the wire cutters behind his back. “I was just… checking your lights. A safety inspection, you know.”
“Safety inspection?” Louis repeated, arching an eyebrow. He gestured to the deflated snowman. “Looks like Frosty failed.”
Harry opened his mouth to respond, gapping like a fish out of water, but no excuse came to mind that didn’t sound completely ridiculous. Instead, he let out a nervous laugh. “It was, uh, flickering. I noticed it from my bedroom window. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Louis descended the porch steps, his grin widening as he closed the distance between them. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he said, stopping just a foot away.
Harry swallowed, his cheeks burning—not just from the cold. “What can I say? I’m dedicated to the art of holiday safety.”
“Dedicated to winning, more like,” Louis shot back, his tone teasing but his eyes sparkling with something softer.
“Admit it, Styles. You’re scared I’m going to take the crown this year. And don’t think I don’t know what you did with that stunt messing with my electricity box last year, I know.”
“I don’t know what you"re talking about, and scared? Of that?” Harry gestured toward the atrocious display behind him. “Please.”
Louis chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, if you spent less time sabotaging and more time on your own house, you might actually stand a chance.”
Harry scowled, hating how charming Louis sounded even when he was mocking him. “You’re lucky I didn’t go for the giant Santa,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Louis stepped closer, his breath visible in the cold air as he smirked. “Go ahead. Sabotage all you want. It’s not going to stop me from winning. I took the liberty of installing cameras this year-round after the ‘accident’ last year. And it looks like I caught myself a naughty boy.”
Harry’s competitive streak flared, but so did something else—something he couldn’t quite name. He looked at Louis, at the way the moonlight caught in his messy hair and the way his grin made Harry’s chest feel annoyingly warm.
“Don’t tempt me, Tomlinson,” Harry said, trying to sound menacing but knowing full well it came out more playful than he intended.
Louis laughed again, the sound ringing out in the quiet night. “Goodnight, Styles. Try not to let your jealousy keep you up too late.”
As Louis retreated back into his house, Harry stood there, feeling both defeated and oddly exhilarated. This competition was spiralling out of control—but maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.
❆
Two days later, Harry was back in his element, meticulously arranging the final touches on his display before the opening weekend. The minimalist yet elegant aesthetic was coming together beautifully—clean lines of warm white lights framing his windows, perfectly aligned wreaths on every door, and a glowing reindeer centrepiece in his front yard. The crisp December air carried the faint hum of Christmas music from a nearby house, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at his handiwork.
“Perfect,” he muttered, stepping back to admire the scene. It was classy, understated, and a guaranteed win.
Or so he thought.
Around midnight, while Harry was sound asleep, a figure in a dark hoodie crept across his lawn. Louis, armed with a box of absurdly colourful lights and his trademark grin, crouched by the hedge separating their properties. In his hand, he held a tangled string of the gaudiest, most obnoxious blinking lights he could find—hot pink, lime green, and a shade of purple that shouldn’t exist in nature.
“This’ll teach you to mess with my snowman,” Louis whispered to himself, biting back a laugh as he got to work.
He started by wrapping the lights around Harry’s reindeer, weaving them through the antlers and finishing with an oversized, flashing star perched on top. Next, he added a handful of bright, mismatched ornaments to Harry’s pristinely hung wreaths, making sure they clashed with the rest of the decor. But the real sabotage was the 12ft inflatable penguin he’d brought from his own collection. With a wicked grin, Louis set it up in the middle of Harry’s lawn, facing the street with a cheerful wave.
By the time he was done, Harry’s sophisticated display looked like it had been attacked by a rogue carnival. Louis stepped back to admire his work, barely containing his laughter.
“Good luck topping this, Styles,” he whispered before retreating to his own house, disappearing into the night like a mischievous elf.
The next morning, Harry stepped outside with a cup of coffee, ready to enjoy his perfectly crafted display before the day’s work began. He didn’t make it three steps before he froze in horror.
“What the—?” His jaw dropped as he took in the spectacle before him. The blinking monstrosity of lights, the gaudy ornaments, and the giant penguin waving cheerfully at passersby—it was a complete disaster.
“Tomlinson,” Harry growled, already knowing exactly who was responsible.
As if summoned, Louis appeared on his porch, mug in hand and a look of innocent surprise plastered across his face. “Morning, Styles!” he called, his voice dripping with fake cheer. “Lovely display you’ve got there. Really… festive.”
Harry spun to face him, eyes narrowing. “You. What did you do?”
“Me?” Louis asked, feigning shock as he stepped closer. “I’d never tamper with a fellow competitor’s decorations. That would be unethical. And I don’t want to be on Santa"s Naughty list.”
Harry pointed an accusatory finger at the penguin. “Unethical? That thing is staring at me like it knows all my secrets!”
Louis couldn’t hold it in anymore and doubled over laughing. “Oh, come on, it adds personality! Your display was so boring. I just… jazzed it up a bit.”
Harry crossed his arms, glaring. “This is war, Tomlinson.”
“Bring it on, Styles,” Louis shot back, grinning wickedly. “But you should know—I’ve got more penguins where that came from.”
As Harry stormed back inside, muttering under his breath about revenge, Louis returned to his porch, sipping his coffee and basking in his victory. December was shaping up to be his favourite month yet.
❆
It was the third week of December, and it was well into the rivalry between Harry and Louis. Their houses were a spectacle—Louis’ yard a chaotic explosion of colour, inflatables, and motion-sensor elves, while Harry’s display gleamed with the polished precision of a department store window. The street buzzed with visitors and the neighbours stopping to gawk at their escalating antics, but neither Harry nor Louis seemed to care about anything except outdoing each other.
That night, Harry stood outside with a smug grin, testing his newest addition—a synchronized light show that danced perfectly in time to Carol of the Bells. He even got his gingerbread men to lip-sing it. The best part was the sign on the snowy lawn with an arrow that pointed to Louis’ house that said Show off.
Each flicker of the LEDs illuminated his sleek, minimalistic masterpiece, and he couldn’t wait to see Louis’ face when he realized he’d been bested.
“Oi, Styles!” a voice called from across the hedge. “What’s with all the fanfare? Trying to blind the neighbourhood?” Harry turned to see Louis sauntering over, hands shoved into the pockets of his puffer jacket.
“At least my lights don’t look like a unicorn exploded on my lawn,” Harry shot back.
Louis smirked, undeterred. “Says the man with zero inflatables and rude sign you have up. Where’s your holiday spirit, Mr. Grinch? Too busy being boring?”
Harry bristled, stepping closer. “Minimalism is elegant. You wouldn’t know the first thing about style, Tomlinson.”
“Style?” Louis scoffed, gesturing toward Harry’s meticulously trimmed hedges. “You’re just scared to have fun. Admit it, mate—you’re out of your league.”
“Oh, please,” Harry sneered. “At least my display doesn’t play twelve different songs at full volume. Your yard sounds like Santa’s workshop threw a rave.”
They were nose to nose now, their voices rising as the tension crackled like static in the air. A small crowd of neighbours and visitors had gathered at a safe distance, whispering and giggling as the two men squared off.
“Maybe if you spent less time glaring at my yard and more time fixing that pathetic excuse for a light show, you’d have a chance,” Louis said, his grin maddeningly smug.
“Oh, it’s on,” Harry snapped, whipping out his phone to crank up the brightness on his display.
Louis narrowed his eyes, pulling out a remote of his own. “Two can play at that game.”
The street erupted into a dazzling chaos of lights. Harry’s sleek white and gold display pulsed aggressively in rhythm while Louis’ kaleidoscope of colours flashed and blinked in defiance. Elf inflatables sang and danced, and the hum of the power grid grew ominously louder with every second.
And then—
BOOM.
The entire street plunged into darkness.
For a moment, there was stunned silence. The murmur of a disappointed crowd began to stir. The only light came from the soft glow of the moon and the faint flicker of candles inside the nearby houses.
“Oh my God,” Harry muttered, blinking as his eyes adjusted. “Did we just—?”
“Knock out the power for the whole neighbourhood?” Louis finished, his voice tinged with both awe and horror. “Yep. Definitely.”
From somewhere down the street, a neighbour shouted, “What the hell happened?”
Louis and Harry looked at each other, their faces illuminated by the faint glow of Louis’ still-blinking Santa hat.
“Well, this is awkward,” Louis said, biting back a laugh.
Harry groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Great. Now we’re the Christmas villains.”
“Villains?” Louis repeated, finally bursting into laughter. “Please. We’re legends.”
Harry couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips despite the chaos. Only Louis could make a situation like this into a cheerful endeavour.
“Or,” Louis suggested, grinning mischievously, “we could just blame the grid.”
“Louis!”
“What? It’s not like they can prove it was us.”
As more neighbours slowly emerged from their houses, flashlights in hand, Harry and Louis shared a conspiratorial glance. Even in the midst of their ridiculous feud, they couldn’t deny the absurd hilarity of the situation.
“Truce for now?” Louis asked, holding out a hand.
Harry hesitated before shaking it, his competitive streak momentarily subdued. “Truce. But only until the power’s back.”
Louis smirked. “Deal. Let’s go tell everyone it was… squirrels.”
⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆
The Truce
The following evening, Harry found himself standing awkwardly on Louis’ doorstep, a flashlight in one hand and a thermos of hot cocoa in the other. The power had yet to return, and after the power outage debacle, the two had been thoroughly scolded by the neighbourhood council. Both were assigned the task of restoring some semblance of holiday cheer to Candy Cane Lane. That meant working together to fix their displays without overloading the grid—or murdering each other in the process.
When Louis opened the door, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Styles. To what do I owe this honour? Come to surrender your crown?”
Harry rolled his eyes, holding up the thermos. “Truce. For real, this time. I figured if we’re going to fix this mess, we might as well start with something warm.”
Louis grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
The inside of Louis’ house was as chaotic as his yard—strings of tangled lights spilled over the couch, half-decorated wreaths leaned against the walls, and a box labelled Frosty’s Spare Parts sat precariously on the coffee table. It was somehow endearing, the festive chaos feeling far more lived-in than Harry’s perfectly ordered decorations.
“So,” Harry said, setting the thermos down and crossing his arms. “Where do we start?”
Louis gestured to the box of lights on the floor. “Well, since you’re the reigning champ, why don’t you untangle those while I figure out how to replace the fried bulbs?”
Harry snorted but didn’t argue. He sank onto the floor, grabbing the mess of lights as Louis rummaged through his tools. For a while, they worked in companionable silence, the tension from the night before fading into something lighter.
“Y’know,” Louis said after a while, glancing at Harry from the corner of his eye, “I’ll admit—your house looked good. Annoyingly good.”
Harry smirked. “Annoyingly? Coming from you, I’ll take that as high praise.”
Louis chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “Don’t get used to it. You’re still my competition.”
“And you’re still my biggest headache,” Harry quipped, his tone teasing.
Louis pretended to clutch his chest. “You wound me, Styles.”
Harry shook his head, but he was smiling. As the night wore on, they started to fall into an easy rhythm. Harry untangled the lights while Louis tested them, their banter growing softer, more playful.
At one point, Harry caught Louis staring at him, his expression uncharacteristically quiet. “What?” Harry asked, his brow furrowing.
Louis shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Just didn’t expect you to be… nice.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a monster, you know.”
“Debatable,” Louis said, but his tone was gentle. “Still, this is nice. You and I are not trying to outdo each other for once.”
Harry felt warmth spread through his chest, and it wasn’t just from the cocoa. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “It is.”
By the time they stepped outside to start on the displays, the tension that had defined their rivalry felt like a distant memory. Together, they worked to repair the damage, their laughter echoing down the darkened street.
❆
“Okay, the moment of truth,” Louis said, plugging in the last strand of light. The yard flickered to life, a perfect blend of Harry’s sleek design and Louis’ colourful chaos.
Harry stood back, admiring their combined effort. “Not bad,” he said, nudging Louis’ shoulder.
Louis grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not bad? That’s the best compliment I’ve gotten from you all month.”
Harry turned to him, their shoulders still brushing. “Well, don’t get used to it.”
“Too late,” Louis replied, his voice softening as his gaze lingered on Harry.
For a moment, they stood in the glow of the lights, the world around them fading into the background. Harry’s breath hitched as Louis leaned in, his usual smirk replaced by something gentler, more hesitant.
“Y’know,” Louis murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “maybe this truce wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
Harry’s lips twitched into a smile, his heart pounding as he closed the distance between them. “Maybe not.”
And in the midst of the sparkling lights and the crisp December air, the rivalry melted away entirely.
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The Reveal
The neighbourhood buzzed with anticipation as the Candy Cane Lane Christmas Lights Festival prepared to unveil its Christmas opening night. Families strolled the street, kids bundled in scarves and mittens, their excited chatter filling the frosty air. But all eyes were on two houses—Harry"s and Louis’s at the end of the lane—their displays shrouded in mystery behind massive black curtains strung across their combined lawns.
For the last couple of days, rumours had swirled.
“Did you hear? Apparently, they’ve combined forces after the blackout they caused last weekend,” a neighbour whispered.
“No way,” another replied, shaking their head. “Those two? They’ve been rivals forever.”
Behind the curtain, Harry stood on his porch, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, trying to calm the erratic thumping of his heart. Next to him, Louis leaned casually against the railing, his breath fogging in the cold air. Louis, of course, looked annoyingly at ease, the mischievous glint in his cerulean eyes betraying none of the nerves Harry felt bubbling under his skin.
“You nervous, Styles?” Louis asked, voice low and teasing as if they weren’t standing on the precipice of a potential Christmas miracle—or disaster. Harry shot him a look, his lips twitching despite himself.
“Shouldn’t you be? It’s your chaos all over my lawn.” Louis smirked, leaning closer until their shoulders brushed. “It’s called charm, mate. Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
Harry’s throat tightened, and he turned away quickly, his gaze catching on the glow of the curtains. He tried not to think about how good Louis’ shoulder felt against his or how the sight of his easy smile had become a permanent fixture in Harry’s thoughts. “Charm isn’t the word I’d use,” Harry muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite.
The clock struck seven, and the crowd’s murmurs grew louder as the event’s emcee took the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for—the big reveal of the Tomlinson-Styles Collaboration.
The words sent a ripple of murmurs through the crowd. Harry could feel their eyes, their curiosity palpable. Beside him, Louis’ grin widened, but for the first time, Harry noticed a flicker of nerves in his expression.
“Ready?” Harry asked softly, his voice carrying more than the question.
Louis turned to him, their eyes meeting under the glow of the streetlights. For a moment, the world seemed to be still.
“With you? Always,” Louis said, his voice steady and tender. Harry felt his chest tighten.
Together, they grabbed the ends of the cords holding the curtains in place. On the emcee’s countdown—“Three… two… one!”—they yanked, the curtains falling away to reveal their creation.
The audience fell silent for a beat, then erupted into cheers and applause.
The display was nothing short of magical. Harry’s sleek, elegant aesthetic blended seamlessly with Louis’ chaotic, colourful creativity. Strings of white and multicoloured lights formed an enormous archway connecting their homes, the words “Merry & Bright” spelled out in twinkling bulbs at the top. A towering Whoville Christmas tree stood between their yards, decorated with ornaments representing both of their styles—Harry’s precise silver-and-gold baubles complemented by Louis’ quirky candy canes and glittering snowflakes.
A miniature ridable kid"s train ran across both lawns, circling around the giant trees, weaving through snow villages, reindeer, and glowing candy canes. The gingerbread cookies were synchronized to the light show set to All I Want for Christmas Is You, with the entire display dancing in perfect harmony.
Harry stole a glance at Louis as the crowd oohed and aahed, their faces bathed in the soft glow of the lights. Louis’ eyes sparkled with unguarded delight, and for a moment, Harry forgot about the competition entirely.
“You look happy,” Harry said, his voice softer than he intended.
Louis turned to him, his grin fading into something gentler. “I am,” he admitted, his gaze lingering on Harry’s face. “This… it’s better than I imagined. Maybe even better than winning.”
Harry felt a warmth spread through him, one that had nothing to do with the lights. “Yeah,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smile. “It really is.”
As the light show reached its crescendo, the crowd broke into cheers once more, but Harry barely heard them. His focus was on Louis, standing so close their hands nearly brushed.
Louis’ voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again. “You know, Styles, we make a good team.”
Harry’s heart stumbled, his pulse quickening at the way Louis said it—like it meant more than Christmas lights. “Yeah,” he said, his voice catching. “We really do.”
For the first time, Harry let himself believe that maybe this wasn’t just about the lights anymore.
❆
Later in the evening, the festive cheer of the neighbourhood was in full swing as snowflakes gently fell from the sky, blanketing Candy Cane Lane in a fresh coat of winter white. Harry and Louis stood at the edge of their front lawns, their breath misting in the crisp air as laughter and playful shouts erupted around them.
Children from the neighbourhood—some bundled up like snowmen, others with rosy cheeks and bright eyes—had gathered in front of the houses, a snowball fight already underway. Harry glanced at Louis, who was eyeing the children with the kind of mischievous grin that could only mean trouble.
“Bet I can hit you before you hit me,” Louis challenged, scooping up a handful of snow and packing it expertly into a tight ball.
“Oh, you’re on, Tomlinson,” Harry said, smirking as he grabbed his own snowball.
Before they could launch their snowballs, a group of giggling kids raced past, squealing as they darted between the two men. The snowballs they threw soared into the air, landing with soft thuds against the men’s coats.
Harry laughed, the sound warm and bright, as a tiny, bundled-up girl with pigtails and mittened hands took aim at him. He dodged, but she squealed with delight as her snowball found its mark.
“Take that, mister!” she shouted, eyes shining.
“Alright, alright,” Harry said, putting his hands up in surrender, and Louis’ laughter joined the chorus. Harry glanced at Louis, their eyes locking for a split second, and then Louis grabbed a handful of snow, launching it in Harry’s direction with a shout of triumph.
Harry barely managed to duck, snow pelting his shoulder. He retaliated, hurling a snowball that found its mark on Louis’ side. They went back and forth, the playful shouts of children mingling with their laughter.
The fight slowed as the kids, breathless and red-cheeked, retreated to catch their breath. Louis looked over at Harry, his dark curls tousled and snowflakes clinging to his lashes.
“Who knew you’d be so competitive?” Louis teased, his voice low and warm.
Harry met his eyes, his chest still heaving from laughter. “I could say the same about you. Didn’t think Mr. ‘Snow Miser and Heat Miser,’ or rather both of us, could be so precise with our throws.”
Louis shrugged, the moment stretching between them as their breath mingled in the cold air. For the first time in ages, Harry felt a quiet certainty settle over him, a kind of peace he hadn’t realized he needed.
“Harry,” Louis said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I know we’ve been at each other’s throats, but… I think we make a pretty good team.”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. The distant chatter and laughter faded as he looked at Louis, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that was rare for the confident man.
“I know we do,” Harry replied, voice barely audible. “And I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”
Louis’ smile softened, his usual teasing replaced with something more tender. He leaned closer, the tips of their noses almost brushing, the cold air humming between them.
“Then it’s not just about Christmas lights, is it?” Louis whispered, his fingers brushing Harry’s gloved hand.
Harry swallowed, heart pounding as he shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips. “No, it isn’t.”
A sudden cheer from the kids broke the moment, and Harry looked up to see the little girl pointing at the sprig of mistletoe hanging above the arch they were so conveniently placed under, her eyes wide with innocence and excitement.
“Look! Mistletoe!” she shouted, giggling as she ran over.
Before Harry could think, Louis reached up and gently tugged Harry closer, their foreheads touching. The children"s laughter and the cold air around them seemed to fade as their eyes locked.
“I’ve been waiting to do this since I first met you,” Louis said, his voice barely above a whisper. Harry’s heart was racing, and he didn’t think twice. He leaned in, closing the space between them, and their lips met in a kiss that was warm against the chill of the evening. It was slow and careful, the kind of kiss that spoke of new beginnings and the promise of more moments like this.
The children erupted into cheers around them, the sound like a distant echo as Harry and Louis pulled away, their faces flushed.
“Guess the kids really do know how to make a moment special,” Louis said with a grin, eyes sparkling.
Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist. “They do. But I think this is my favourite part of the season.”
“Mine too,” Louis whispered, pressing his forehead to Harry’s. And for the first time in forever, Harry felt like everything was exactly as it should be.
⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆
Decking the Halls with you
The next weekend, they both decided to go on a sleigh ride together. The snow crunched beneath the hooves of the sturdy horse as it pulled the sleigh through the quiet, frosted landscape. The glow from the Christmas lights in the distance twinkled through the branches of the surrounding trees, casting shadows that danced with the soft, whispering wind. Harry wrapped his arms tighter around himself, the cold biting at his cheeks, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. The air was crisp and electric, charged with a kind of magic that only came around this time of year.
Louis sat beside Harry, his eyes reflecting the warm amber light of the lantern swinging gently from the sleigh. The quiet jingle of the horse’s harness mixed with the soft crunch of snow beneath the runners, creating a peaceful rhythm that lulled Harry into a rare sense of calm. The last couple of days had been nothing short of magical. Their rivalry, once fuelled by stubborn determination, had melted into something softer, something warmer.
Louis broke the silence, his voice low and edged with hesitation. “Everything okay?”
Harry turned to him, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The soft glow of the lantern cast golden hues on Louis’s face, highlighting his slightly crooked nose and the curve of his lips. Harry’s chest tightened as he realized just how much he had come to care for the man sitting beside him.
“Yeah,” Harry replied, trying to sound casual even though his heart felt like it might burst. “I’m good.”
For a while, they sat in silence, the world around them hushed and serene. The distant sound of neighbours laughing and the faint scent of pine in the crisp winter air made the moment feel almost dreamlike. Harry felt Louis shift beside him, the movement drawing his attention.
“You know,” Louis said, his voice softer now, his words tinged with sincerity, “this is actually really nice. I’m glad we decided to do this.”
Harry smiled, his gaze lingering on Louis’s profile. There was something different in the way Louis looked at him—something vulnerable that Harry hadn’t seen before. It made his heart ache in a way that both scared and excited him.
“Me too,” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The space between them felt charged, their breaths mingling in the cold night air as Louis turned to face Harry more fully. He hesitated, then took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Harry’s in a way that made his pulse race.
“Harry,” Louis began, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “I know I’ve been a bit of a pain in the arse. And let’s be honest—you’ve probably wanted to throw me and my inflatable snowmen off your lawn more times than you can count.”
Harry chuckled, the tension breaking for a moment. “You’re not wrong.”
Louis grinned, but the teasing glint in his eyes quickly softened. Slowly, almost shyly, he reached out and brushed his gloved fingers against Harry’s. The touch, though small, sent a jolt through Harry’s body.
“But,” Louis continued, his voice quieter now, “I’ve never had more fun during Christmas than I have these past few weeks—competing with you, arguing with you, laughing with you. It’s made me realize… I don’t want to stop, Harry. Not when it comes to you.”
Harry felt his breath hitch, his throat tightening as Louis’s words sank in.
Louis smiled, a hint of nervousness creeping into his expression. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… would you be the Mrs. Claus to my Santa? Or, well, maybe just my boyfriend?”
For a moment, Harry could only stare, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. “I think I’d like that,” he said, his voice steady but full of warmth.
Louis’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up with relief and joy. And as the sleigh came to a gentle halt beneath a cluster of snow-dusted trees, Harry leaned forward, closing the small space between them. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, the cold winter air forgotten as warmth flooded through them.
When they pulled back, their breaths mingling in the space between them, Harry laughed softly. “You realize this means I’m still going to beat you in next year’s competition, right?”
Louis chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, we’ll see about that, Styles.”
Before Harry could say anything more, he leaned in once more. Their lips met in a tender kiss, filled with everything that had been building up between them—every late-night conversation, moment of laughter, and glance that lingered a little longer than necessary. The snow fell around them, quiet and pristine, as they shared the first of many kisses under the glow of the Christmas lights.
When they finally pulled away, Louis rested his forehead against Harry’s, a soft, contented sigh escaping his lips. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”
Harry’s heart was complete, the silence between them filled with hope. “Merry Christmas, Louis.”
And at that moment, with the crisp winter air and the sound of the horse’s hooves beneath them, Harry knew this was the best Christmas he’d ever had.
❆
The final night of the Christmas Lights Festival was a dazzling blur of colours, music, and laughter. Candy Cane Lane glowed brighter than ever, and every house lit up in a spectacular display of holiday spirit. At the center of it all stood Harry and Louis, hand in hand, as neighbours gathered around their now-combined decorations—a whimsical masterpiece of Harry’s classic elegance and Louis’s vibrant chaos.
The enormous Whoville-inspired tree sparkled with mismatched ornaments, surrounded by Louis’s ridable toy train, Harry"s cardboard gingerbread men, and Harry’s perfectly placed elegant lights. In shimmering gold letters, a banner above it read: “Merry Christmas from Candy Cane Lane’s Very Own Champions.”
“It’s perfect,” Harry said softly, his green eyes reflecting the twinkling lights.
“Perfectly ridiculous,” Louis teased, nudging him. But his smile was warm, and his fingers intertwined with Harry’s felt like home.
As the crowd cheered and children giggled over the larger-than-life decorations, Harry looked at Louis and felt the ache of competition replaced by something deeper, something he knew would last far longer than any trophy.
“I’m happy to have been your rival, Harry,” Louis whispered, leaning close, “it all started as friendly competition.”
“And now,” Harry murmured, kissing Louis’s temple gently, “we’re part of the magic that makes Candy Cane Lane unforgettable.”
As the snow began to fall, laughter swirled around them. As they stood together, Harry knew this was his happiest Christmas yet.
THE END
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