allyasavedtheday

Archive Of Our Own

IF YOU ASKED ME IF I LOVE

HIM (I’D LIE)

Novel
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 PART 1:
Long Before We Both Thought The Same Thing

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When Louis is six he meets Harry.

It’s a Wednesday when he comes home from footie practice after

Stan’s mum drops him off to find a pretty lady sitting at his kitchen
table with his mum. His mum tells him her name is Anne and that
she’s just moved into a house on the street around the corner. Louis
shakes her hand because he’s polite - no matter what Stan says - and
she laughs. She has a nice smile, he decides.

“Lou,” his mum says when he lets go of Anne’s hand to take his
designated seat at the table. He’s allowed to sit with the grownups
now; Lottie doesn’t because she’s just a baby. But Louis is six; he
knows how to talk about grown up things - like shopping lists and the
weather. “Anne’s little boy is in the play room with Lottie. How about
you go say hello?”

“I know Harry would like some new friends,” Anne adds, offering
Louis a kind smile. “He’s a bit nervous about moving to a new town.”

Louis nods decisively and climbs down from his chair, ready to go
find this Harry person and inform him that they’re friends now but
then his mum calls him back.

“Oh Lou, change first, would you?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.
“Your footie uniform is all sweaty; throw it in the wash basket while
you’re upstairs, love.”

“Yes, mum,” he huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically as he drags himself

out of the room and begins tromping up the stairs with more
theatrics than strictly necessary.

He ambles across the landing, hand gliding absentmindedly along the

wall as he does, and he’s just about to turn into his bedroom when
he’s hit with another body.

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Louis stumbles back, arms pinwheeling as he reaches out for
something to grab onto. His fingers catch in soft cotton and before
he knows it, he’s landing on his back with a thump and the other
body is falling on top of him, making Louis wheeze out a quiet,
“oof.”

“Oops!”

He looks up at the sound of the squeal, eyes blinking rapidly until

they settle on the source of the noise.

It’s a boy.

A boy with an unruly head of chocolate brown curls and wide green
eyes and a tiny little mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ shape.

“Hi,” Louis answers brightly, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a

smile. “Are you Harry?”

Maybe-Harry nods before ducking his head shyly, cheeks turning

pink. And Louis’ not sure why he’s embarrassed, all he did was ask his
name.

“’m Louis,” he replies instead, making the boy look at him again.

“Hi Louis,” Harry murmurs quietly, keeping his eyes downcast as his
cheeks remain rosy as ever. He’s still not getting up though…maybe
he hurt his legs when he fell.

“Are your legs okay?” Louis asks suddenly, eyes going wide at the
thought that he might’ve already broken Harry and he’s only just met
him. His mum is going to be so cross.

Harry gets a little crinkle between his eyebrows and nods his head
confusedly. “Yes?” he answers but he doesn’t sound very sure.

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“It’s just- you haven’t gotten up yet,” Louis explains, his own cheeks
feeling a little hot. His mum always tells him he’s prone to
overreaction.

Harry’s eyes go wide and he scrambles off of Louis, nearly tripping all
over again in his haste to stand up. “Sorry! ‘m sorry! I should’ve-“

“S’okay, Curly,” Louis shrugs, sitting up and directing a grin up at the

boy fretting in front of him. “As long as you’re still in one piece.”

Harry goes still, small shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh. “I’m
fine, thank you,” he mumbles. “’m sorry for bumpin’ into you.”

“That’s okay,” Louis assures as he pushes himself to stand up. “What

were you doing in my room anyway?” he asks curiously, striding past
Harry and through his open door. He sniffs his jersey as he goes,
wrinkling his nose in disgust. His mum was right; his uniform’s
starting to smell a bit now.

“I- I was looking for the bathroom,” Harry stutters, still stuck in his
spot in the doorway. “I wasn’t being nosy, I promise!”

“It’s okay,” Louis says again, rifling through his drawers to find a
clean t-shirt. He shucks off his jersey and drops it carelessly on the
floor, pulling the new top over his head. It’s green, kind of like
Harry’s eyes, he notices absently.

He changes his shorts quickly after that, kicking off his socks and
gathering them in the pile with the rest of his dirty clothes to dump in
the wash basket in his mum and dad’s room.

Harry stumbles after him as he makes his way across the landing,
almost like he’s too afraid to be left alone in case he gets lost again.

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“Oh,” Louis says suddenly. “The loo’s there,” he says, pointing his
left foot at the door next to his mum’s since his hands are full.
“That’s what you were looking for, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Harry answers quickly, darting into the bathroom without

another word. Louis stares after him for a minute before shrugging
and carrying on into his mum and dad’s room to drop his uniform in
the hamper.

He decides to wait for Harry at the top of the stairs rather than just
going back down to Lottie in the playroom – he knows it was the
right decision when he sees the way Harry’s face light up as soon as
he realises Louis’ still there.

“Your mum said you were worried about moving,” he prompts

quietly as they make their way downstairs side by side.

Harry immediately looks down out at his feet, cheeks turning pink
again. “Oh- um. Yeah. S’just a bit scary, that’s all.”

“Well, you don’t need to be scared anymore,” Louis says resolutely.

“You have me now. I’ll protect you, Curly.”

Harry’s head snaps up in surprise and he misses the step below him,
only managing to let out a startled gasp before Louis lunges for him,
using the hand not wrapped around the bannister to catch onto his
arm.

“Yeah?” Harry asks breathlessly once they’re both safely standing on

the soft hallway carpet.

“Yeah,” Louis promises before giggling and reaching out to ruffle

Harry’s hair. “Seems like you might need it.”

Harry huffs but his smile is wide as he follows Louis down the hall. It
isn’t until hours later when Harry’s mum has convinced him he needs
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to go home and Louis has a quiet minute to himself that he thinks
Harry might be someone really special.

And that’s it. They become inseparable. They spend every waking
minute together and within a matter of weeks Louis can’t even
remember what his life was like without Harry.

He makes sure no one ever bothers Harry at school and teaches him
how to play footie. Harry always comes up with ways to make their
games more fun and is more than happy to be the Wendy to Louis’
Peter Pan after Louis tells him none of the other boys will play along.
They have their first sleepover and Harry gets upset during the night
because he misses his mum so Louis cuddles him to help him fall
back to sleep. When Louis is allowed to walk Harry home for his tea
one evening he treats it like it’s the most important job in the world –
because it is - and holds Harry’s hand the entire way – just in case.

And on a rainy Thursday evening where they sit on the sofa, staring
morosely out the window since they can’t go outside, Harry turns to
Louis with his serious face on and says, “You’re m’best friend, Lou.”

Louis pauses at how unexpected it is but he feels a grin burst out of

him before he can stop himself and boops Harry’s little button nose
with his index finger. “And you’re mine.”

“Yeah?” Harry whispers, eyes lit up with wonder. It’s the kind of look
he gets on his face when they watch movies about faraway kingdoms
and magical creatures. Louis loves that look.

“Of course,” he replies softly, his secret Harry smile slipping onto his
face as he burrows into Harry’s side. “Always.”

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Louis never thought a promise he makes when he’s six years old
would be the only thing he knows how to hold onto some days but
sometimes it’s the only thing that feels real.

They grow older and they grow closer. They’re there for the best
parts of each other’s lives and they’re there for the worst. They wear
matching suits when Harry’s mum marries Robin and Harry comes to
every single one of Louis’ footie matches. Their mums enrol them in
music classes together when Louis is ten and Harry is eight and they
even convince their parents to go on holidays together a couple of
times.

Harry holds him the night Mark leaves and doesn’t let go until the sun
is filtering in through the window and Louis’ tears have dried. Louis
holds Harry’s hand tightly in his on Harry’s first day of secondary
school and promises him that nothing bad will happen as long as he’s
around. When Harry is fifteen and he shakily tells Louis he likes boys
Louis just pulls him into a hug and tells him he does too and it never
feels scary after that.

There’s a moment though when Harry is sixteen and Louis is

eighteen, a moment that’s been seared into Louis’ brain ever since.
It’s the summer before he leaves for uni and Louis is lying on his bed
overthinking everything – he’s not doing enough, not seeing Harry
enough before he leaves - when Harry bursts into his room in tears.

Louis doesn’t even manage to get a word out before Harry is

barrelling into his arms and collapsing onto the bed. Louis shushes
him, unsure of what else to do, and carefully rearranges them so
Harry’s comfortably curled up against his side, his face buried in the
crook of Louis’ neck.

“Haz,” he murmurs, running a soothing hand over Harry’s back.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” When Harry only sobs harder Louis begins
carding his fingers through his hair, pressing a chaste kiss to his
temple. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”
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“H-he,” Harry hiccups, fingers scrunching up in the front of Louis’
hoodie as he squeezes his eyes shut. “He didn’t kiss me back,” he
whispers miserably, another round of sobs overtaking him and Louis
feels his eyes close in defeat.

Harry’d had a date tonight. Or- he said it was a date; to Louis, it

sounded like some twat from the footie team just wanted to
experiment but he didn’t dare tell Harry that. He’d been so excited;
Louis couldn’t ruin it for him.

“I’m sorry, love,” he says gently, trying to keep most of the anger out
of his voice as he pulls Harry closer. “He doesn’t deserve your first
kiss anyway. He’s not worth it.”

Harry is silent for a moment and Louis holds in his sigh of relief
when his shoulders stop shaking. Eventually Harry picks his head up
off Louis’ shoulder, meeting his gaze with red-rimmed, watery eyes.
“Will you do it?”

Louis feels himself freeze, hand going still on Harry’s back. “What?”

“Will you kiss me?” Harry asks tremulously, bottom lip already
threatening to start wobbling again. “Please, Lou. I don’t want it to be
anyone else. I want it to be someone I love and someone I trust.”

Louis’ heart is thumping heavily in his chest while his veins flood with
adrenaline and he can’t tell if it’s out of fear of excitement. His mouth
feels inexplicably dry and he doesn’t understand why the thought of
kissing Harry is affecting him so much.

“I want it to be you,” Harry pleads quietly, another tear slipping down

his cheek before he has a chance to catch it.

And there’s really only one answer to that, isn’t there?

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“Okay,” Louis replies, voice thick with some kind of emotion he
hasn’t quite pinpointed yet.

Carefully, he curves his hand around Harry’s jaw, reaching out his
thumb to swipe away the tear track on his cheek, and he can feel it
when Harry’s breath hitches.

“Okay,” Louis says again, more to himself than Harry, as he begins to

lean in.

It’s terrifying in a way kissing has never been before. Harry is so close,
probably closer than he’s ever been and they’ve crossed a lot of
boundaries in their friendship but this has never been one of them.

He pauses with his mouth an inch from Harry’s, lets their noses brush
and his breath fan across Harry’s mouth. He gives him an out, waits
for Harry to say he’s changed his mind but he never does.

So he closes the distance.

With more care than he’s ever thought to give any kiss before, he
slides their mouths together with the gentlest pressure. The room is
dead silent save for Harry’s shaky intake of breath and the furious
beating of Louis’ heart drumming in his ears. Harry’s hand is still
curled in the front of Louis’ hoodie and his curls are tickling Louis’
face and maybe it’s not romantic but it still feels like the most
important moment in Louis’ life.

He pulls away slowly, watching the way Harry’s eyes flutter before
they open properly. The tears from earlier make his eyes look even
more green than usual and it’s the only thing Louis can focus on for a
moment before he remembers how vulnerable Harry is right now.
Louis needs to reassure him; Louis needs to protect him. He
promised he would.

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Releasing a breath, he leans up and presses his lips firmly to Harry’s
forehead, pulling him back into his arms with practised ease.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, burrowing into Louis’ chest like if he

goes deep enough he can make a home for himself there.

It makes Louis shiver, feeling the words pressed against the fabric of
his jumper, and he doesn’t know why. He just settles for finding
Harry’s hand and lacing it with his own.

“Love you, Lou.”

Louis closes his eyes, curls a hand around the back of Harry’s head
and nods. “Love you too.”

When Louis goes to uni to say it’s hard is an understatement. Yeah,

he comes home for the holidays and he visits for a weekend here and
there whenever he can but it’s not the same. Harry is miserable. He
has his own friends so it’s not like Louis’ leaving him completely
alone but he knows it’s different.

Harry tells him as much whenever they skype. Of course they care
about their other friends, but they’ve been with each other almost
their entire lives. They’re a package deal, the dream team; it’s not
surprising they feel some separation anxiety.

Unsurprisingly, Louis starting uni is the catalyst for a triad of people

questioning their relationship. Everyone Louis makes friends with
immediately assumes Harry is his boyfriend based on the little tidbits
of information – or essay long soliloquies – he provides about him.
Almost no one believes him when he scoffs and says they’re just
friends.

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But it’s not only that, their mums start asking questions too. And
Louis can admit the distance makes them a bit clingier than before -
whenever he’s home he can’t stand being apart from Harry, can’t
stand not invading his space. And sure, they’ve always been like that
but maybe it’s a bit more intense now. Still, he doesn’t expect his
mum’s delighted, “So have you and Harry finally worked things out
then?”

After assuring her they’re still just best mates, Louis tells Harry what
she said and he confesses that Anne asked him the same thing. They
laugh it off even if it does feel a little bizarre but they soon get used to
people making assumptions. They don’t really care; Louis knows not
everyone is as close as they are so people don’t always understand.

As long as it makes sense to them, that’s all that matters.

Louis’ second year of uni isn’t actually all that bad. He meets Zayn the
day he moves into his new flat at the Student Village Housing and the
two become fast friends – Zayn living across the hall ends up being a
godsend, especially when Louis’ own flatmates are being insufferable.
It’s not the same as with Harry – no could ever replace him – but it’s
still nice to have someone to talk to. Louis spent most of his first year
floating from friend group to friend group, without any really solid
group of people to lean on so it feels good to have Zayn there. He
also gets Harry’s seal of approval over skype so Louis thinks he’ll
keep him around.

He surprises Harry by coming home for his eighteenth birthday and

Harry bursts into tears before hugging him so tight Louis fears for his
ribs. Harry doesn’t let go of his hand all night, dragging from friend
to friend and introducing him like Louis’ never seen the people in
Harry’s year before.

But Louis indulges him anyway, dances with him even when he looks
ridiculous, makes him a proper cocktail like how one of his uni mates
showed him, and holds him up when he starts getting a little too tipsy.
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At the end of the night Harry is swaying on his feet and giggling into
Louis’ neck as he heaves him up the stairs. He catches Gemma’s eye
as he passes her on the landing and she only rolls her eyes, shaking
her head in exasperation as she makes her way to the bathroom.

Louis tips Harry onto his bed with as much care as he possibly can –
not like Harry makes it easy – but the minute he steps back Harry
stretches his arms out to him. “Noo, Lou, don’t go please,” he
whines, pouting pathetically.

“Just taking off your shoes, Curly, relax,” Louis soothes, huffing a
laugh as he bends down to pull Harry’s boots off his feet. He stands
back up with his hands on his hips, appraising his messy best friend
sprawled across his bed. “Think you can take your jeans off
yourself?”

“Probably not,” Harry giggles before letting out a hiccup and then
giggling even more.

Louis sighs but goes to unbutton Harry’s trousers. “I feel like I’m
defiling your virtue,” he mutters under his breath as he tries to
shimmy the jeans down Harry’s hips.

Harry’s silent a moment before he mumbles, “I’d let you.”

Louis freezes with his hands framing Harry’s hips. He looks up slowly
to find Harry staring at him with his teeth sunk into his bottom lip to
hold back a smile, cheeks rosy from the alcohol and eyes positively
twinkling.

“What?” Louis asks, dumbfounded.

Harry doesn’t say anything though, just breaks down into another fit
of giggles, so Louis sighs again and resumes in helping him get his
trousers off. (It’s not as weird as it sounds.) When he’s finished he
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stands up straight again, watching Harry squirm on top of his
blankets. He’s frowning like he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him
but eventually he finds Louis’ gaze again.

“Lou,” Harry whines. “Please stay with me tonight. I miss you.”

Louis hesitates a moment, unsure if he should stay with Harry when

he’s like this. But someone has to be here in case he throws up in the
middle of the night, he reasons. So with more conviction than he
feels, he kicks off his shoes, slips off his denim jacket and shimmies
out of his jeans.

Harry makes a contented noise when Louis climbs in next to him,

pulling the duvet out from underneath them both and covering them
over.

“Come on, love, sleep time now,” Louis coaxes gently, easing Harry
onto his side and curling up around him. Harry sighs happily as soon
as they’re settled together and Louis feels himself relax in increments
the longer they lie there.

“I miss you too, H,” he admits later, when Harry’s breathing has
evened out and the room is still.

It’s probably the best night’s sleep Louis had since he was home for
Christmas.

Nothing really feels better than the moment Harry calls him and tells
him he’s been accepted into the University of West London aka
Louis’ university aka they’ll be together again.

(Louis might cry but no one can prove that except Zayn who stares at
him with thinly veiled exasperation the entire time but still offers him
a hug when Louis eventually hangs up the phone.)
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It’s not even a question whether they’ll live together when Harry
starts uni, they just do. Anne half-heartedly suggests Harry should live
in the accommodation recommended for first years at least for the
year but Harry is resolute. Louis probably isn’t much help either – too
elated at the thought of having Harry back with him to really help the
adults with the responsible advice.

Louis’ third year of uni and Harry’s first starts with just Harry, Louis
and Zayn and their new flat. Within a week Harry has recruited Niall
– some kind of chef prodigy that’s studying Culinary Arts with him.
He’s blond and Irish and loud and carves out a place for himself in
their friend group like he’s been there all along. With Niall comes
Liam, his roommate who, while initially incredibly shy, is a veritable
puppy with kind eyes and a kinder heart.

By October Louis feels more settled than he ever has since he started
university. He has Harry by his side and a group of friends he actually
cares about and can depend on.

And the next two years are filled with nothing but laughter and late
nights and drinking and binge-watching tv shows together and taste-
testing Harry and Niall’s dishes for class and the boys filling in when
Louis has to do drama exercises and break ups and fuck ups and too
many hugs and by the time Louis graduates he can honestly say
university was some of the best years of his life.

Which leads him to where he is now.

Louis is twenty-five and teaching drama at a secondary school in

Finchley. When Liam graduates Louis mentions to him that one of
the PE teachers is retiring so now he has Liam every day to drive to
work with and eat lunch with and make fun of other teachers behind
their backs with. Zayn owns a bloody art gallery after he gets scouted
at one of the shows he took part in in third year. And Niall and Harry

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have been working as sous chef and pastry chef respectively in the
new restaurant that opened in town six months ago.

Harry and Louis have a flat and Liam and Niall have a flat – Zayn
uses his spare bedroom as an art studio since none of them can really
stand to be around paint fumes for that long. And honestly, as far as
Louis is concerned, his life is pretty fucking great right now.

Or it was until Zayn ruined it.

“So are you admitting you love Harry yet?”

Louis pauses in the middle of his story about the movie he and Harry
went to see last night to raise an incredulous eyebrow. “What are you
on about? Of course I love Harry.”

Has Zayn lost his mind? He’s been friends with Louis for nearly
seven years and Harry for six, under what circumstances did it appear
like they didn’t love each other?

“Okay, let me rephrase,” Zayn says, an amused little quirk to his

mouth like he knows something Louis doesn’t. “Are you admitting
you’re in love with Harry yet?”

Louis stares at him in bewilderment, mouth working as he tries to

form a response. “I…what?”

Zayn just gives him a deadpan look, like what he’s saying is obvious –
like what he’s saying makes sense. “Lou, come on. I’m not an idiot.”

“I…genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis answers,

mind working overdrive to come up with a reason why Zayn would
even be bringing this up. Sure, sometimes people think Harry and
Louis are dating when they first meet but Zayn knows better.

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“Look, me and the lads have played along for years because we didn’t
want to rush you but seriously, Lou. This is getting ridiculous.”

“Zayn, you’re not making any sense-“

“You just told me you and Harry went for dinner and a movie last
night,” Zayn interrupts as if that’s supposed to mean something.

“Yeah and…?”

Zayn sighs, redoubling his focus and seemingly changing tactics.

“When’s the last time you went on a date?”

Louis casts his mind back to his disastrous date with some bloke
named Ryan. Why he ever thought letting Liam set him up was a
good idea, he’ll never know.

“Ryan something, you remember. The guy with the goatee,” Louis
replies, pulling a face at the memory of that awful excuse for a beard
on the bloke’s face.

“Louis.” Zayn looks so beyond exasperated, Louis would laugh if it

wasn’t directed at him and he actually knew what the fuck was going
on.

“What?”

“That date was last year.”

“It was not,” he immediately protests. “It was-“ He trails off as he

wracks his brain to remember what month it was. He thought it was
February…but actually maybe…no, there were no leaves on the trees.
And actually, maybe it was November…Louis remembers Ryan
making a comment about Christmas music coming on too early.
(That had immediately been a strike against him.)

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“Okay fine so it was last year, who cares?” Louis demands, crossing
his arms petulantly.

“And when was Harry’s last date?” Zayn asks slowly like he’s talking
to a five year old.

“I don’t know,” Louis grouses, feeling irrationally irritated and not

really sure why. What’s Zayn’s point? “What’s your point?”

“Well, did you ever think,” Zayn starts carefully. “Did you ever think
maybe the reason neither of you has been in a relationship for a long
time is because you might have feelings for each other?”

Louis laughs, he actually laughs, because that is quite possibly the

most absurd thing Zayn’s said all day and he’s been weirder than
usual today. “No,” he chuckles. “I never thought that, Zayn.”

“Maybe you should,” Zayn says elusively and then he just fucking
leaves. He announces he needs to get to the gallery, drops a twenty
pound note on the table to pay for his lunch and breezes out of the
restaurant.

What the fuck?

“Haz?” Louis calls as he lets himself into their flat. Harry has the
evening shift tonight so he shouldn’t be gone yet. The distinct smell
of baking coming from the kitchen proves as much. He slips off his
shoes inside the door and carelessly discards his jacket on the
armchair as he passes, seeking out the sweet smell of his dessert
(dinner) tonight.

He finds Harry in the kitchen leaning over a mixing bowl, hair in a

messy bun and joggers that Louis is pretty sure are his, with various

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baking equipment and ingredients spread out across every available
work surface.

Louis steps up behind him, placing his hands on Harry’s hips and
resting his chin on his shoulder. “What are we making?” he asks
curiously.

Harry’s shoulders drop and Louis can feel the tense line of his back
loosen. “Hi boo,” he greets softly, smile evident in his voice. “’m
trying out a new recipe for one of the desserts at the restaurant.”

“Can I taste?” Louis asks, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of
Harry’s hips underneath his t-shirt. Harry squirms away but obligingly
dips a finger in the cake batter and raises it up to Louis’ mouth.

Louis pushes his chin that little bit further over Harry’s shoulder and
sucks his finger into his mouth. “Mm,” he makes an approving noise
as he releases Harry’s finger, patting his hip once before moving away
to find a clean mug to make tea. “S’good, babe.”

“Thanks,” Harry replies, blowing out a breath and leaning against the
counter, idly watching Louis move around the kitchen as he drops a
teabag in his cup and sets the kettle to boil.

“Want one?” Louis asks, making to grab Harry’s mug from the
cupboard but Harry shakes his head.

“I’m good, Lou, thanks. I need to finish this.”

“Well don’t stress yourself out too much,” Louis prods gently,
crossing back over to Harry to rub his shoulders. “Your back is gonna
be killing you tonight if you don’t relax, love.”

“I know,” Harry sighs. “It’s just- I’ve been working on it all week and
I still can’t get it right. Something’s missing.”

20
“You’ll figure it out,” he says with certainty, reluctantly pulling
himself away from Harry when the kettle boils.

“Mm,” Harry hums vaguely, eyes trained on the mixing bowl before
he seems to shake himself. “Did you have a nice lunch with Zayn?”

Louis pauses, suddenly remembering exactly how their lunch ended.

He considers telling Harry for a moment so they can laugh about how
preposterous Zayn was being together but something holds him back.
“Yeah, it was great,” he says evasively. “Nothing too exciting to
report.”

“Okay well you know I’m working ‘til close tonight, yeah?” Harry
reminds, taking the mixing bowl and pouring the batter into a waiting
cake tin. “So don’t wait up.”

“I’m not your mother, Harold,” Louis scoffs, taking a sip of his tea
and wrinkling his nose when it’s still too hot. “When do I ever wait
up for you?”

“Always,” Harry rolls his eyes exasperatedly, grinning like Louis is the
most ridiculous person in the world as he deposits the tray in the
oven. “And you have to be up early for work tomorrow, last day of
school remember?”

“How could I forget?” Louis sighs dreamily; almost two whole

months off. He feels at peace just thinking about it.

Harry just watches him amusedly, a soft smile tugging at the corners
of his lips. He’s the only person that views Louis’ antics with
fondness rather than long-suffering weariness.

“Fine, I won’t wait up for you,” Louis acquiesces, pouting only a little.
He likes their late night chats the best. “I hope you’re going to be
cleaning up in here, Harold?” he adds, surveying the mess that is their
kitchen. There’s even a spot of flour on Harry’s nose. Louis swipes it
21
away as he passes, ready to relax in front of the telly for a while
before he has to start marking his third years’ exams.

“As long as you hang up your jacket!” Harry calls after him and Louis
freezes in the doorway.

“How do you know I haven’t already hung it up?” Louis asks slowly,
avoiding Harry’s eyes. His eyes always give him away.

“Because I know you,” Harry snorts derisively.

“Fine,” Louis sighs in defeat, slumping into the living room to hang
his jacket on the coat rack by the front door.

“Love you, Lou!” Harry calls from the kitchen with a bright laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Harry stumbles into Louis’ room sometime around midnight later

that night, crawling under the covers with a mumbled, “My bed’s too
cold.”

Louis just nods sleepily, not even deigning to open his eyes, and
wraps himself around Harry’s back once he’s settled. “Night, Hazza,”
he snuffles into the nape of Harry’s neck, pulling the covers up over
them both.

“Night, boo,” Harry whispers, laying his arm over Louis’ and
releasing a slow breath.

Louis falls back to sleep in seconds.

22
As soon as the final bell rings the next day, Louis is out the door –
quite possibly faster than the students. He has a cardboard box full of
exams and his own notes from his classes’ monologues that he needs
to correct over the next few days but other than that, he’s free. By the
time he makes it to the carpark Liam is already leaning against the
hood of his car waiting for him.

“Celebratory dinner?” he asks expectantly, taking the box off Louis so

he doesn’t have to fumble with his key to get the door open.

“You know it, Payno,” Louis agrees, dumping the box in the back
before climbing into the driver seat. “Celebratory drinks.”

Liam laughs, eyes glinting at the thought. “I’m guessing we’re making
a pit stop back at yours then? Something tells me you won’t be in a fit
state to drive later.”

Louis scoffs but nods his head, eyes scanning the carpark as he
carefully pulls out of his spot. “I can’t fucking wait for a lie-in
tomorrow.”

“And the day after that,” Liam agrees blissfully.

“And the day after that,” Louis continues, holding back a grin.

The drive back to Louis’ flat is thankfully a short one and he wastes
no time racing up to the third floor to unload the box of exams in his
bedroom before darting down to the complex’s carpark where Liam’s
waiting.

“Shall we?” he asks Liam, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“We shall,” Liam grins, leading the way as they start down the street.
Rosso’s – the restaurant Harry and Niall work at – is only a fifteen
minute walk away so they make their way towards it without much of
a fuss.
23
It’s only 4:30 and it’s blessedly warm; Louis spends most of the walk
admiring the clear sky and listening to Liam talk about the exam he
was supervising this morning.

The restaurant’s not too busy when they arrive, in that in-between
time between lunch and dinner that actually gives the wait staff a
reprieve. The head waitress, Perrie, grins when she spots them,
practically skipping over to greet them.

“Table for two, boys?” she guesses, batting her eyelashes

exaggeratedly before laughing and leaning in to give them both a kiss
on the cheek.

“Please, love,” Louis answers as she grabs two menus and leads them
over to an empty table in the centre of the room.

“So what’s with the twin smirks? What’s got the two of you in such a
good mood?” she asks curiously as she dutifully begins filling their
water glasses.

“Last day of school, Pez,” Liam explains, lips tilting up involuntary at

the words. God they really shouldn’t be this happy to get a holiday.

“Ah,” she says with dawning understanding. “So I’m guessing a

celebration is underway?”

“You’d be guessing correctly,” Louis replies, idly browsing the menu

even though there’s not much point – he gets the same thing every
time.

Perrie laughs, slipping her notepad out of the pocket of her apron.
“Drinks then?”

24
“Oh I’m definitely starting with a cocktail,” Louis says, immediately
swapping the normal menu for the drinks menu. “I’m thinking a Sex
on the Beach?”

“When are you not thinking of sex on the beach?” Liam mutters and
Louis kicks him – hard. “I’ll have a beer, Perrie, thanks. Whatever’s
on tap is fine.”

“Coming right up!” Perrie assures, glancing between them and biting
her lip to hold back her laugh.

As soon as her back is turned Louis rolls his eyes at Liam. “Honestly
Payno, have you no manners?”

“Am I wrong?” Liam challenges, waggling his eyebrows.

Louis is about to quip that he hasn’t had a one night stand in ages but
that sounds dangerously close to the territory he was in with Zayn
yesterday so he bites his tongue.

Thankfully, Liam unassumingly changes the topic to what he’s getting

for dinner. Unlike the rest of the boys, who have their favourite
dishes and pick the same every time, Liam generally likes to pretend
he’ll actually try something new for once before ultimately picking the
same thing as always.

Perrie arrives back over a few minutes later with their drinks and
takes their order – Liam asks for his usual just like Louis knew he
would.

“To the summer!” Liam announces, raising his drink.

“May it actually be bloody hot for once!” Louis adds with a snort,
clinking his glass delicately against Liam’s and taking a sip. He feels all
the built up tension from the school year instantly drain out of him as
soon as the fruity flavours fill his senses.
25
They chat aimlessly while they wait for their food, rambling from one
topic to another until their meals arrive and talking stops altogether in
favour of more important matters.

Niall saunters out at some point during their main course, pulling up a
chair and dragging his chef’s hat off his head.

“Don’t you have work, Nialler?” Louis asks, spearing another piece of
chicken with his fork.

“Taking a break,” he shrugs. “Wanted to say congrats on making it

through the school year, lads!” he exclaims enthusiastically, clapping
Liam on the back and making him almost choke on his lasagne.

“Harry wanted to come out and say hi,” he adds, directing it mostly to
Louis. “But he’s a little swamped back there. He’ll come out if he
can.”

Louis nods, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “S’fine, I
don’t want to disturb him anyway.”

“Such a good husband,” Niall coos, letting out an unaffected cackle

when Louis punches his arm.

It’s- Niall makes jokes like that all the time. He always compares
Harry and Louis to an old married couple and Harry and Louis always
share a look and laugh about it but the thought sits uncomfortably in
Louis’ stomach now. Sure, he and Harry are affectionate, they all
know that, but maybe there’s more intent behind Niall’s teasing than
Louis had originally assumed…

Niall’s loud laugh breaks him out of his reverie and Louis blinks to
see him standing up from his chair, announcing he needs to get back
to the kitchen.

26
As soon as Niall’s disappeared he takes a long gulp of his cocktail,
slamming the glass back down on the table with a huff. When Liam
raises his eyebrow in question Louis clears his throat. “Keep up,
Liam,” he says primly before staring steadfastly at his food.

Liam doesn’t say anything, just takes a swig of his beer and returns to
his own food.

God, what the fuck is wrong with him? He’s going to kill Zayn; he’s
making Louis feel all twitchy and unsure of himself. He can feel
himself revising his interactions with Harry, picking them over to try
and see what Zayn – and evidently Niall – can see.

He decides he’s not going to think about it right now. Instead, he

orders another cocktail with dessert while Liam texts Zayn and tells
him to meet them at the restaurant. The evening crowd is starting to
bustle in now and Louis can already see the easiness with which the
staff had been working the room dissipate as they start picking up the
pace, extra waiters appearing every time Louis looks up. There’s no
way Harry or Niall will get a break for at least another couple of
hours.

Louis and Liam relax into comfortable conversation while they wait
for Zayn to arrive, talking about their various plans for their time off.
Louis is just starting to get antsy, looking around for Perrie with the
dessert – he needs his cheesecake, okay? No one makes cheesecake
like Harry – when another one of the waiters arrives over, setting a
cake down in front of Louis. He’s just about to tell him that’s not
what he ordered when he actually looks at the cake.

It’s unmistakeably Harry’s work – a small, round cake covered with

white icing and with “Happy holiday, Lou! (And Liam)” written in
chocolate sauce but might as well have been done with a fountain pen
for how perfectly the words swirl across the cake.

27
“Did Harry do this?” he asks the waiter in awe, already knowing the
answer.

The waiter nods, biting back a smile. “Red velvet sponge with vanilla
buttercream icing, said it’s your favourite?”

“It is,” Louis murmurs, staring down at the cake for a minute before
looking back up at the waiter. “Tell him thank you? And that I love
it?”

The bloke nods again, assuring him with a, “Will do,” before
retreating to the kitchen.

Louis settles his gaze back on the cake and smiles to himself; he has a
sneaking suspicion this is what Harry was working on yesterday when
Louis came home – though he never did make the icing, he’d been
running late for work. It takes him a minute to realise Liam is staring
at him but when Louis looks up he finds him watching him with an
unreadable expression.

“Where’s my cake then?” Liam asks eventually, a teasing lilt to his

voice.

“It’s for both of us,” Louis answers automatically. “See, it has both
our names.”

“Mine is in brackets, Tommo,” Liam laughs. “S’like Niall reminded

him or something.”

“Harry wouldn’t forget you,” Louis protests, frown appearing

involuntarily. He probably gets more defensive about Harry than
Harry himself does. “It’s for both of us.”

“It’s for you,” Liam corrects but his smile is genuine. “And that’s
okay.”

28
No sooner are the words out of his mouth does an ice-cream sundae
that Liam always wants to order but never does arrives at the table.
“Now this is mine,” he says happily, taking a massive spoonful and
leaving Louis alone with his cake.

Fuck, Harry really is the best. Like, the best of the best. Louis doesn’t
deserve him.

He sets about eating the cake but not before taking pictures from
every angle and texting them to his mum and Anne. It’s delicious -
obviously, everything Harry makes is delicious - and Louis spends
more time than he’d care to admit worshipping every single bite.

Liam – and Zayn who shows up about halfway through dessert –

watch him amusedly but he can’t even find in it himself to care. The
cocktails are just starting to hit him, he’s on break from work and he
has the best friend in the entire world. He’s going to have his fucking
cake and eat it too, thank you very much.

It’s the whole cake and another drink later when he’s making his way
to the bathroom. He’s just about to push through the door when
someone opens it from the inside, walking straight into him.

Of course that someone is Harry, the only grown adult Louis knows
without spatial awareness.

“Lou!” he exclaims in surprise, eyes widening and hands reaching out

instinctively to catch Louis’ elbows in case he stumbles.

Louis doesn’t say anything, just pushes himself into Harry’s arms and
pulls him into a tight hug. Harry hugs back without hesitation,
wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and dropping his chin onto
Louis’ shoulder.

“Thank you for the cake,” he mumbles against Harry’s neck. “It was
amazing.”
29
He can’t see Harry’s face but he can feel his smile. He’s beaming,
Louis knows it.

“You’re welcome,” Harry says warmly. “I hoped you would.”

He releases Harry with a kiss on the cheek, smiling affectionately up

at him. “How much longer ‘til you finish?”

Harry glances at the door to the kitchen over Louis’ shoulder and
checks his watch. “I’m finished at nine tonight, so another two
hours?”

Louis sighs in defeat – that’s too far away - but nods. “Guess I’ll just
have to drink for you then.”

Harry scoffs, cuffing a hand under Louis’ chin. “I’m not carrying you
home tonight, at least try to pace yourself?”

“Fine,” Louis mutters, biting back a smile. It’s pointless, as soon as he

meets Harry’s gaze again he’s grinning.

“I better get back to it,” Harry says after a moment, taking a half-
hearted step towards the kitchen.

“Fine,” Louis repeats, sounding a lot more forlorn than he had a

moment ago. “Hey Styles.”

Harry stops just as he’s about to enter the kitchen. He doesn’t turn
around but he cranes his head just slightly, just enough so Louis
knows he’s listening.

“Walk me home later?”

A smile spreads across Harry’s face as he nods. “It’s a date.”

30
 *

By the time Harry is finished his shift Louis is more than a little tipsy.
At least he’s not alone – Liam has been giggling steadily for over an
hour and Zayn, while quieter, seems equally as buzzed – when he
decided to catch up, he caught up quick.

Harry shows up at their table with Niall in tow, raising an eyebrow at

the half-empty pitcher of strawberry daiquiris Louis ordered for the
table twenty minutes ago. “Eventful night?” he asks amusedly.

“Hazza!” Louis exclaims once he realises Harry is there, attempting to

jump out of his seat to hug him but ultimately tripping over the chair
leg. Harry’s hands come up to steady him and Louis is fairly certain he
shares a look with Niall over his head.

“Think you can wrangle those two into a cab while I get this one
home?” he asks Niall. (Louis assumes.)

“No- noo Haz, we still need to pay,” Louis mumbles, the words
feeling heavy on his tongue. He’s probably getting a little too old to
day drink.

“I’ve covered your tab, Lou,” Harry placates, placing a soothing hand
on the back of Louis’ head where it’s still resting against Harry’s
chest.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Louis protests weakly, voice definitely

sounding a bit fuzzy around the edges now, even to his own ears.

“Like you could remember your pin number for your card right
now,” Harry snorts, shifting so Louis’ nestled under his arm. “Come
on, home time.”

Liam and Zayn stumble out of their seats, each latching onto one of
Niall’s awaiting arms. They seem steady enough on their feet though
31
since Niall doesn’t go crashing to the ground as soon as he makes
them walk.

Harry guides Louis carefully out the door behind them, waving quiet
goodbyes to some of the waiters with his free hand. All Louis has the
energy to do is rest his head against Harry’s shoulder and keep his
fingers clutched in the back of Harry’s jacket to keep him grounded.

The warm breeze from earlier is long gone when they arrive outside
and Louis instinctively shivers at the chill in the air. Harry merely
tightens his arm around him and sets them in the direction of the flat.

It’s only just gone nine so the July sun is just beginning to set, the sky
a riot of oranges and pinks. Most people that pass them seem to be
on their way out rather than on their way home – that’s what Louis
gets for starting early.

“Did you have a nice time tonight?” Harry asks after they’ve been
walking in companionable silence for a few minutes.

“Mm,” Louis hums, eyes drifting shut for a moment. He trusts Harry
to keep him steady – not that Harry can keep himself steady on a
good day.

“So how bad of a hangover am I gonna have to deal with in the

morning?” Harry asks then and Louis’ head might be a little dizzy but
he can still hear the shit-eating grin in his best mate’s voice.

“You won’t have to deal with anything,” he grouses. “I’m gonna be

the one suffering for this.”

“Excuse me, I’ll be dealing with a cranky Louis,” Harry laughs.

“That’s much worse than any hangover.”

Without a word Louis slips out from under his arm, intent on a
dramatic storm off to make Harry sweat for a minute but evidently
32
his legs aren’t quite as sturdy as he’d thought they were. Walking so
quickly gives him a head rush and he almost loses his footing before
Harry’s secure arms are around him again.

“No running off, boo,” Harry reprimands gently, starting them

walking at a much slower pace. “I’m just teasing.”

Louis heaves a put-upon sigh and lets his head drop back onto
Harry’s shoulder again. “You know now you have to make me
breakfast in the morning for being mean to me.”

“Oh is that right?” Harry asks sceptically, an amused little lilt in his
voice.

“Mhm, s’the rules,” Louis mutters, biting back a grin when he feels
Harry laugh.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Harry promises and for a
fleeting moment, Louis feels the soft pressure of Harry’s lips against
his hair but just as quickly it’s gone. It makes his spine feel tingly and
Louis finds himself frowning; Harry kissing him never made him have
that reaction before. Must be the alcohol.

“Wish you’d gotten drunk with me,” he complains. “’Stead of

carrying my sorry arse home.”

“Don’t talk about your arse that way,” Harry quips immediately,
directing a smirk Louis’ way when he looks at him. “Besides, I don’t
mind. I actually like taking care of you, you know.”

Louis wants to question him, just because. Because he still can’t really
fathom just how much Harry would do for him if he asked and vice
versa; it scares him when he thinks about how much they care about
each other. But that’s a conversation for another night so he just
burrows closer into Harry’s side and murmurs, “I like taking care of
you too.”
33
They spend the rest of the walk home in silence.

Louis gets the phone call the next morning.

It’s early – too fucking early for his poor, pounding head to be
subjected to such loud noise – but he somehow manages to blearily
paw his bedside table and find his phone to at least make the noise
stop.

“What?” he asks groggily, eyes not fully open yet as he vaguely

wonders if Harry’s making him breakfast.

“I’m getting married!” is screeched down the line at him, loud enough
that Louis has to pull the phone away from his ear.

“What?” he asks again, voice weak and pathetically close to a

whimper. Why is Lottie so loud?

“I’m getting married, Lou!!” Lottie exclaims. “Dave proposed last

night.”

And- oh shit. Oh shit.

“He did?” he asks incredulously, voice scratchy and hoarse. He

almost wants to cry in relief when he sees Harry’s left a glass of water
on the nightstand, two paracetamol sitting on a napkin next to it.

He gulps them down gratefully, almost laughing at Lottie’s

exasperated tone on the end of the line.

“Yes, jesus christ Lou, keep up!”

34
“Sorry Lotts, feeling a bit delicate this morning,” he chuckles half-
heartedly. “I’m so happy for you though, that’s amazing. Mum
must’ve bawled her eyes out when you told her.”

“She’s still crying,” Lottie informs him conspiratorially before sighing

dramatically. “Go on, then. I’ll let you nurse your hangover but I’m
calling you back later to have a proper chat.”

“You can call Harry if you want,” he suggests, flopping back down
against the pillows and closing his eyes. “I’m sure he’s up.”

“Oh my god do you think he’ll cry?” Lottie asks, sounding far too
gleeful at the thought.

“Dunno,” Louis snorts. “Probably. Congrats again, Lotts. I’ll call you
later, yeah?”

“Yeah, love you, Lou.”

Louis hangs up after a, “Love you too,” and drops his phone
somewhere on the bed.

He doesn’t remember falling back to sleep but when he wakes up

again it’s to the distinct smell of bacon and Harry climbing into his
bed.

Louis cracks an eye open and finds Harry straddling his thighs over
the covers, carrying a tray holding a full English breakfast and two
cups of tea. That’s not what catches Louis’ attention though; Harry’s
eyes are red and glistening like he’s holding back tears.

“I made you breakfast,” Harry announces, voice cracking and choked.

“Love, what’s wrong?” Louis asks, leaning up on his elbows, frown

etched into his forehead.

35
“Lottie’s getting married, Lou,” Harry whispers, voice filled with so
much wonder you’d swear he was the one that was just proposed to.

“I know,” Louis whispers back, a smile slipping onto his face before
he can help it.

“She’s all grown up,” Harry replies shakily and god, how is he even
real?

“Aww love,” Louis chuckles quietly, sitting up properly and taking the
tray out of Harry’s hands. He’s barely set it to the side when Harry’s
thrown his arms around his neck, crushing him to his chest.

“I’m so happy for her,” Harry laughs, voice sounding too thick and
dangerously close to a sob.

“Me too.” Louis hugs him back tightly, Harry a comforting weight in
his arms. Lottie is getting married – married – she’s so young, only a
year younger than Harry and already, she’s found her person, her
soulmate.

“She’s making me feel over the hill though,” he mumbles a moment

later, huffing a self-deprecating laugh. “I need to catch up.”

Harry pulls back, eyeing him with a frown. “Shut up, you know
someone’s gonna fall head over heels in love with you one day and
propose on the spot.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis asks doubtfully, holding back a smirk at the

determined set to Harry’s expression.

“Yes,” Harry insists, poking him firmly in the chest. “And then I’m
going to cry because you’ll love them more than me.”

36
Louis rolls his eyes, digging his fingers into Harry’s sides to make him
arch away. “Not possible, Curly. Now stop fishing for compliments
and get off; my breakfast’s getting cold.”

“You mean the one I cooked for you?” Harry reminds pointedly,
carefully balancing the tray in his hand while he crawls into the empty
space next to Louis.

“I love you?” Louis tries, watching Harry fold like a bloody house of
cards as his entire expression softens and he offers a cup of tea.

“Stop sweet talking me,” he grumbles but he still rests the tray on
both of their laps so Louis can reach it.

“Thanks for my hangover cure, Haz,” Louis says after he’s taken the
first blessed bite of bacon. “You’re the best.”

Harry doesn’t say anything but the pleased look is plain as day on his
face, he’s practically preening.

They spend the rest of the day in Louis’ bed watching some
countdown about nineties’ boybands.

Typical Tuesday.

The rest of Louis’ first week off passes fairly uneventfully. He spends
most of it correcting his classes’ exams so he can submit their grades
before he goes into full-on holiday mode and completely switches off.

Harry’s working afternoon/evening shifts all week so he’s not even

around to distract Louis. Mostly he just plays Fifa with Liam in
between doing his work and then goes to bother Zayn at the studio
whenever Liam is busy.

37
By the time Harry’s next day off rolls around on Sunday Louis is
officially bored. He’s ready to drag Harry out of bed and out of the
flat to do something except when he creeps into Harry’s room after
eleven – much later than Harry ever sleeps – he finds him buried
under a mound of blankets.

“Haz?” he calls quietly. Upon receiving no answer, he tiptoes further

into the room, letting the door drift shut behind him. “Harry?”

Harry makes a vague, unintelligible noise which means he’s alive at

least.

“Haz,” Louis repeats, taking a seat at the edge of Harry’s bed and
resting his hand over what he thinks is Harry’s hip – there’re too
many blankets in the way to really see.

“’m awake,” Harry mumbles from where his head is buried beneath
the pillow.

“You sure?” Louis jokes, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when Harry
rolls over.

“I’m fine,” he yawns tiredly. “I just feel all stiff and achy from work
yesterday. Double shifts are not my kinda pal.”

Louis feels his brow furrow as he appraises Harry’s frame. He looks

fine physically - even if he does have purple circles under his eyes -
but he has a bad back as it is and standing for nearly ten hours isn’t
exactly going to help that.

“Stay here,” Louis instructs. “I’ll be right back.”

He rushes into their bathroom before Harry has a chance to protest,

plugging the bath and turning on both taps. He goes rifling through
the cabinet under the sink and finds a bath bomb – probably left

38
behind from the last time Lottie was here or, who is he kidding, it’s
probably Harry’s – and a few of Harry’s scented candles.

He drops the bath bomb into the water, watching it fizz for a
moment before he goes about setting up the candles in places that
hopefully won’t be a fire hazard. He lets the bath continue to run
while he darts to the kitchen in search of a lighter.

Once the candles are lit and the bath bomb has fully dissolved,
leaving the water a nice, soothing lilac colour that he thinks Harry will
probably appreciate, he shuts off the taps and checks the temperature.

Satisfied, he returns to Harry’s room and finds him half sitting up in

bed, blearily checking through the notifications on his phone.

“Alright, come on, babycakes,” he announces, clapping his hands

together. “I’ve got a surprise.”

Harry doesn’t ask – he probably heard the running water, shit, Louis
should’ve closed the door – just climbs out of bed and stumbles over
to where Louis is waiting in the doorway.

He wraps an arm around Harry’s waist and leads him to the

bathroom. Whether he heard the water or not, Harry still lets out a
tiny gasp when his gaze lands on the bath.

“Get in,” Louis urges with a tiny smile. “I’ll make you tea.”

Harry stares at the bath a moment longer, at the candles set up

around the room, before turning back to Louis with an awestruck
expression.

Leaning down, he presses his lips to Louis’ cheek, murmuring,

“Thank you so much.”

39
“Anything for you, Curly,” Louis replies softly – only slightly worried
about how true that statement is. “Now in you get, let me pamper
you.”

Harry rolls his eyes, squeezing Louis’ hand once before stepping away
and towards the bath. Louis leaves him to it, closing the door behind
him and making his way to the kitchen to boil the kettle.

When Harry gets out of the bath later Louis rubs his shoulders until
all the knots are gone and Harry is pliant in his arms, fast asleep with
his back against Louis’ chest.

They can go on an adventure another day.

The problem is Zayn doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Louis
knows that. He knows everything Zayn said to him a couple of weeks
ago was bullshit, okay, he knows this.

But for some ungodly reason Louis can’t get it out of his head.

Every second of the day when Louis isn’t otherwise occupied, it’s on
his mind. Because- well, he’s not in love with Harry. He knows he’s
not. They’ve been best friends for almost twenty years, Louis is quite
certain if they were in love with each other they would’ve figured it
out long before now.

(Part of him immediately thinks back to that fateful night when Harry
was sixteen and Louis was eighteen and Harry was crying and they
were kissing and the world felt like it slowed to a stop but he shakes it
out of his head.)

It’s just- maybe there’s a part of him - a teeny, tiny, miniscule part -
that thinks there might be something more. That maybe there is

40
something they aren’t saying, that maybe there’s something they could
be.

Because sometimes he has these moments, moments where he

catches himself staring at Harry for longer than necessary or moments
where his heart starts beating wildly in his chest if Harry gets too
close or moments when he feels something almost like jealousy when
Harry gets chatted up at a club or brings home a date. Moments
where it feels like they’re a little more than just friends.

He can’t help but wonder if the reason he’s never entertained the idea
of loving Harry like that is because he’s never let himself.

He doesn’t know what to do. So he does the only thing he can think
of.

He yells at Zayn.

“You,” he accuses menacingly, blustering into Zayn’s studio and

ignoring the way the door bangs behind him.

Zayn barely acknowledges him, just sighs and sets down his spray can
before eventually deigning to meet Louis’ gaze. “What?”

“This is all your fault,” Louis insists agitatedly. He might be snarling,

he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, Zayn only blinks at him.

“Come again?” he asks blankly.

“You!” Louis yells, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

“You were the one that had to go and put all these ridiculous ideas in
my head.”

Zayn stares at him, forehead creasing in confusion as he stands up

from where he’d been crouched over his newest piece. “What ideas?”

41
“About Harry.”

Realisation dawns on Zayn’s face and he grins, looking like the

fucking cat that got the cream. “Oh. Now are you admitting you’re in
love with him?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Louis huffs, stomping out of Zayn’s studio

and into the living room so he can collapse dramatically on the sofa.
“I hate you,” he mutters when Zayn follows him out, cackling
gleefully to himself.

“Aww tell Uncle Zayn all about it,” Zayn teases, taking up residence
on the armchair. He folds his legs underneath him, pulling a cushion
into his lap before regarding Louis with an amused look. “Alright
seriously, Lou. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t stop thinking about everything you said the other week,”
Louis grumbles, turning onto his side so he can see Zayn’s face
properly. His expression doesn’t change as he nods.

“About you having feelings for Harry,” he surmises and Louis makes
a noise of agreement. “So…have you come to the conclusion that you
do have feelings for Harry?”

Louis is silent a moment as he thinks of Harry. Harry, with his

beautiful face and even more beautiful soul and his horrid hyena
laugh and his freakishly big hands and his dimples and the way his
entire face softens sometimes when he looks at Louis and the way he
seems so big and so full of life but so small when he’s curled up in
Louis’ arms and he just- he wants.

“…Maybe.”

Zayn looks like he’s physically holding himself back from squealing
which is just bizarre in and of itself but then he smiles and says, “I’m
happy for you, Lou. Really.”
42
“Are you kidding me?” Louis demands. “This is terrible. Zayn, I just
realised I’m in love with my best friend.”

“Yeah,” Zayn replies slowly. “And he loves you back.”

“No he doesn’t,” Louis denies instantly.

“How do you know?”

“Because he would’ve said something by now.”

“But you never said anything either and you just told me you’re in
love with him.”

“That’s different,” Louis responds petulantly, folding his arms across

his chest like a five-year-old who’s just been told they can’t have their
favourite toy.

Zayn gives him an unimpressed look. “Why?”

“It just is,” Louis insists before dropping his arms and sighing. “I
can’t tell him, Zayn. Not until- not ‘til I have a better idea of how he
feels.”

“Why don’t you just ask him how he feels?” Zayn suggests like it’s
that easy.

“And potentially ruin twenty years of friendship if he doesn’t feel the

same way?” Louis retorts incredulously. “Not happening. I just need
to…test the waters somehow. I know what Harry’s like when he has a
crush on someone, I can figure it out myself.”

“Can I just say for the record this sounds like a terrible idea?”

43
Louis huffs a laugh and nods his head in what he’s pretty sure is
agreement. “Duly noted.”

This is definitely a terrible idea.

The problem with Louis realising he has feelings for Harry is that
now that he’s started thinking about it, he can’t stop thinking about it.

Everything, all the tiny details he used to overlook, he’s hyperaware of

them all now. He’s incredibly conscious of the distance – or lack
thereof - between them when they sit on the sofa together or how his
fingers always tingle after they touch. And Harry, poor sweet,
innocent Harry, is completely oblivious to it all.

Louis wants to put some distance between them – just a little, so he

can try to be objective while he figures out what he wants – but all
Harry has to do is walk into a room and Louis folds, automatically
needing to be in his space.

It’s like when he first left for uni and they were so starved of each
other’s touch they’d hardly detach from one another the entire time
Louis was home. Except somehow this is worse because, with it,
comes a pounding heart and sweaty palms that Louis doesn’t know
how to disguise.

It’s been a week since The Revelation and Louis needs to do

something. He’s going to crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t get his
feelings under wraps soon. So he takes a deep breath, looks over at
Harry where he’s curled up on the other end of the sofa watching
Friends, their legs tangled together in the middle, and tentatively says,
“Hey Haz.”

44
Harry cranes his neck to look at him. His bun is falling down and his
eyes are drooping like he’s on the brink of sleep and Louis wants
nothing more than to curl up in his warmth and stay there forever.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve the day off tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry yawns; his voice is raspy and lower than normal and
now Louis is absolutely certain he woke him up. Oops. “What’s up,
Lou?”

Swallowing hard, Louis forces himself to maintain eye contact.

“Wanna spend the day together?”

“You mean like always?” Harry asks, tired eyes lighting up with
amusement.

Louis huffs, looking down at his lap and picking at the sleeve of his
hoodie. “I mean, like proper go out and stuff. Make a day of it.”

Harry is quiet for so long Louis has no choice but to look up again.
When he does he sees Harry dimpling at him, smiling so wide his eyes
are nothing more than little slits. “I’d like that, Lou,” he whispers.

“Good,” Louis replies, nodding to himself. He’s biting the inside of

his cheek so hard he fears he might draw blood but he’s afraid if he
starts smiling he won’t be able to stop.

“Good,” Harry repeats softly, gazing at Louis for a moment more

before he shifts back to look at the telly.

Louis releases a quiet breath once Harry’s no longer focused on him,

feeling a smile creep onto his face and his cheeks heat up. He knows
he didn’t but it feels a lot like Harry just agreed to go on a date with
him.
45
 *

Louis sleeps in in the morning – mostly because he couldn’t sleep the

night before, too worked up imagining all the million ways their day
could go. So it’s not until he feels a hand on his arm that he actually
begins to wake up.

“Lou,” Harry calls softly, his voice is hardly more than a whisper,
floating somewhere near Louis’ ear. The hand – that he’s now sure is
Harry’s – strokes down his arm and even in his sleep-addled haze
Louis feels his heart speed up a little. Stupid fucking feelings.

Blinking his eyes open, he finds Harry sitting on the edge of his bed,
curls tumbling down his shoulders and dimple etched into his cheek.
The light filtering in through the curtains makes him look fucking
luminescent and Louis honestly doesn’t know how he never noticed it
before now.

“Morning, sunshine,” Harry murmurs, smile widening when he

realises Louis is awake. “Tired from the big day out before it’s even
started?” he teases.

Louis rolls his eyes, catching the hand Harry had been running up his
arm in his own. He surprises himself a little by doing it but he doesn’t
want to let go so he doesn’t. “Everyone knows big days out don’t
start ‘til after twelve, Harold,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep.

Harry laughs – his barking laugh that should be too loud for this hour
of the morning but it just makes Louis smile. “Okay then,” he
acquiesces. “Well, it’s only half ten right now so I suppose we have
time.”

“We do,” Louis agrees, eyes closing again before he can stop himself.
He really could do with a few more minutes of sleep before he

46
inevitably freaks out about whatever will or won’t happen today.
“Trust me, H.”

Harry’s quiet, “I do,” makes him open his eyes again. Harry’s staring
down at him with that soft look he gets sometimes and he’s still
holding Louis’ hand and maybe it’s Louis’ head that’s making this
seem like it’s more than it is but he just- he needs him closer.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, not daring to meet Harry’s eyes directly

because he’s not sure what he’d find there. “Lie down for a while.”

Harry nods and Louis shuffles back towards the wall to give him
room. Their hands let go of each other but only so Harry can slip in
alongside him. Louis curls around him instantly, arm looping over
Harry’s middle and finding his hand again. Part of him thinks he
should hold himself back but he never has before so he doesn’t really
see the point in stopping now.

Harry only sighs contently and laces their fingers together. And it’s
different, Louis thinks, to all the times his heart has started beating
faster or Harry’s given him shivers this week. It’s this quiet,
consuming sense of being overwhelmed when he’s wrapped up with
Harry like this. He just feels…full. So full of a feeling he doesn’t
entirely understand yet and the more he thinks about it, the more he
realises it was always there, just simmering under the surface waiting
for him to notice.

It’s terrifying but it also feels right in a way, feels familiar somehow.

He can’t explain it but he thinks if it meant Harry would feel the same
way, he’d want to.

“You’re an enabler, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry mumbles after a few

minutes, breaking Louis out of his musings and making his lips quirk.
Harry always tries so desperately hard to be an early riser and he
mostly succeeds unless Louis has his way.
47
“You love it,” Louis grins, cuddling closer and pressing his smile into
Harry’s shoulder.

The last thing he hears before he drifts back to sleep is a quiet,

“Maybe.”

When Louis wakes up for real an hour later it’s to an empty bed but
the sound of the shower across the hall is explanation enough for
that. Ambling into the kitchen he discovers tea – still warm – brewed
in his mug and his cereal already poured into his bowl, milk carton
sitting beside it just waiting to be added.

Fuck, he loves Harry.

It’s the only thought running through his head as he carries his
breakfast to the kitchen table. Pour the milk in his cereal – I love
Harry – take a sip of his tea – I love Harry – start eating while he
skims through Twitter on his phone – I love Harry.

He’s almost surprised at how used to that phrase he’s gotten. Then
again, it’s been true for almost twenty years, it’s not going to change
now just because it means something a little different.

An exaggerated call of, “He’s alive!” makes him look up. Harry strolls
into the kitchen with a smirk on his face. He’s got a towel around his
waist and another in his hand mussing his wet curls. Louis may or
may not choke on his cereal.

“So are you gonna tell me what we’re doing today yet?” Harry asks
idly, leaning against the counter as he towels his hair.

“If I tell you it’s a surprise will you leave me alone?” Louis retorts,
raising his eyebrows in challenge.
48
Harry just eyes him appraisingly for a moment before his smirk
becomes even more pronounced. “You don’t know, do you?”

“What?”

“You don’t have anything planned; you’re just winging this whole
thing, aren’t you?” Harry questions, looking gleeful at the thought of
having caught Louis out.

“Excuse me, Harold,” he cuts in haughtily. “What do you take me

for? Of course I know where we’re going.”

“Where then?” Harry presses.

“It’s a surprise,” Louis repeats through gritted teeth, but he stumbles

a little at the end and his smile peeks out. He rolls his eyes at Harry’s
victorious grin and tries in vain to hide his own upturned mouth.
“Will you fucking get dressed so we can go?”

“You’re one to talk!” Harry scoffs. “You’re still eating your

breakfast.”

“I’m done now,” Louis responds blithely, standing up from the table
and pointedly going to put his bowl in the sink, much to Harry’s
amusement.

“Alright, alright,” Harry sighs, hands raised in defeat. “I’ll go, meet
you in the living room in fifteen?”

“When have you ever known me to get ready in fifteen minutes,

honestly Harry,” Louis snorts as he follows him down the short
hallway.

He takes his time getting ready, casting his eyes out the window every
so often at the clear blue sky. That’s what he’d been banking on. It’s
49
the first week of August and probably as hot as it’s going to get this
summer and Louis intends to make the most of it.

Once he’s dressed and he’s satisfied with his hair – he leaves it soft,
knows Harry prefers it like that – he goes digging in his wardrobe for
the old picnic blanket he’d brought with him from home when he
visited at Christmas. It’s the one he and Harry used to play on when
they were kids; Louis has many a fond memory of all the lunches they
ate, all the games they played and all the afternoon naps they used this
thing for.

After he finds it, he slings it over his arm and grabs his phone and
keys, pocketing his wallet as he goes.

It’s only fifteen minutes after twelve – not bad - when he meets Harry
in the living room. He’s sitting on the arm chair, texting, and Louis
allows himself a moment – just a moment – to watch him.

His sunglasses keep his hair pushed back off his face and he’s got on
his pale, yellow short-sleeved, button-down shirt that always makes
his skin look more tanned than it is. He’s still wearing his skinny jeans
because you’d be hard pressed to get him out of them on a good day
but he’s got them rolled up to his calves at least, giving his legs some
breathing room.

He looks up then, probably sensing Louis staring at him, and a smile

instantly appears on his face. “Took you long enough,” he laughs and
but then he stops short. “Is that what I think it is?” he asks, pointing
at the blanket over Louis’ arm.

“Depends on what you think it is, Harold,” Louis answers primly

before striding towards the front door. “Come along now!”

“Lou, seriously!” Harry calls as he jogs after him, eliminating the

space between them in seconds. “Is that the blanket we always used
to play on when we were kids?”
50
Louis pauses in locking the door and smiles at him. “Yeah, H. it is.”

Harry looks floored which is silly because it’s just a blanket – except
Louis knows it’s not just a blanket; it’s a thousand memories rushing
through his mind at once. It’s the same feeling Louis had gotten when
he’d found it in the attic when he was helping Dan get the Christmas
decorations. He’d felt frozen, wrapped up in all the little flickers of
his life with Harry dancing across the backs of his eyelids as soon as
he’d inhaled that same smell – though a little bit musty now – and felt
the same scratchy-soft wool under his fingers. He’d instantly asked his
mum if he could take it home with him.

“How did you- how?” Harry asks quietly, gaze still trained on where
the blanket sits over Louis’ arm.

“Found it in the attic last Christmas and asked mum if I could take it
with me,” he shrugs nonchalantly but he feels like he’s standing on
the precipice of something really important.

Harry finally looks at him, eyes wide and disbelieving, before a

brilliant, beautiful smile overtakes his face. “I’ll hold it,” he
announces, slipping the blanket out of Louis’ arms and hugging it to
his chest.

Louis watches him bemusedly before turning to finish locking the

door. “It’s a blanket, not a baby, love.”

“Shut up,” Harry mumbles and Louis can’t help but grin when he
sees the red tinge to his cheeks. “I missed this blanket.”

Louis doesn’t say anything else, just lets him have his moment and
guides him to the lift with a hand on the small of his back.

51
Harry keeps the blanket on his lap while Louis drives and every time
he checks out of the corner of his eye he catches Harry smiling
serenely down at it.

It doesn’t take long to arrive at their destination; they probably

could’ve walked but Louis is anticipating being too lazy to walk home
later so he’s taking pre-emptive measures. There’s a park that they live
nearby. It’s big and sprawling and runs alongside a river and Louis
loves it.

He and the lads usually use it to have a kickabout when the weather’s
nice but that’s not what he has in mind today. The place is busy, not
packed, but certainly more bustling than normal – the fine weather
sending everyone out of doors.

There’re mothers with babies and toddlers, gathered on blankets

similar to Louis’ own and kids playing with footballs and teenagers
grouped together in clusters with music playing through their iPhone
speakers and something about all the noise just makes Louis feel at
peace.

“This is where our great adventure starts?” Harry asks, falling into
step beside him as they make their way from the carpark towards the
green area. It should sound sceptical but Louis can hear the smile in
his voice.

“Precisely.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else as Louis searches for a clear patch of
grass for them. When he finds one to his liking where the sun is
shining directly on them but not too glare-y he gestures for Harry to
put the blanket down.

Harry dutifully spreads the blanket out, crouching down to make sure
it’s smoothed out properly. Satisfied, Louis sits down before slipping

52
on his sunglasses and stretching out on his back. He can feel Harry’s
eyes on him and he counts one, two, three, fo-

“So this is your grand plan?”

Louis bites back his grin and raises his sunglasses to meet Harry’s
gaze. “Sure is.”

Harry doesn’t look annoyed or angry - like Louis knew he wouldn’t –

he mostly just looks curious. “Why? I thought you wanted to do
something exciting?”

“Because, Curly, I like doing everything with you but I especially like
it when we do nothing at all.”

Louis slips his shades back on again and puts his hands behind his
head, ready to maybe go for a little doze when he feels Harry shift
beside him. When he cracks an eye open Harry is lying on his tummy
next to him, head resting on his forearm as he watches Louis quietly.

“Did you bring lunch?” Harry asks.

“Nope.”

“Water?”

“No.”

“Sunscreen?”

Louis only scoffs in answer.

“Where are we meant to get food?” Harry presses but Louis can hear
him holding back giggles.

“Little shop around the corner, isn’t there?”

53
Harry does laugh then, curling in on himself and inevitably curling
closer to Louis. “You’re still the exact same as when we were kids,
Lou.”

“What? Horribly unimaginative?”

“No,” Harry huffs. “Do what you feel like and figure out the rest
later.”

It makes Louis pause because well- if he did what he felt like right
now he and Harry would be kissing and he could leave the figuring
everything out part until later. He thinks that might be the one thing
he should actually think through though.

“You always did say I was spontaneous, Hazza,” he says then because
he has to say something and that sounds the safest out of all the
thoughts running through his head right now.

Harry hums and Louis can see him picking at the blanket between
them out of the corner of his eye.

“Lou,” he says softly to catch Louis’ attention – like he ever lost it.
Louis tilts his head up slightly so he knows he’s listening. “You’re my
favourite person to do nothing with too.”

He rolls his head to the left and sees Harry biting his lip around a
smile, eyes shining as they flit all over Louis’ face and it just- it feels
like more. More than those simple words; it feels like an admission.
Of what, Louis isn’t sure yet.

Tentatively, he reaches out a hand and tangles his fingers with

Harry’s, carefully watching Harry’s features as he does. When Harry’s
smile only brightens, he relaxes.

54
He’s not sure what’s happening right now but he thinks he might just
hold Harry’s hand until he figures it out.

Lunch consists of ice-cream from the shop ‘round the corner that
melts too quickly and gets their fingers sticky. They sit cross-legged
on the picnic blanket while they eat and Louis swears there’s a picture
exactly like this from when he was nine and Harry was seven. (He has
a feeling he’s going to be flicking through one of his old photo
albums when he goes home to find it.)

They talk and it’s Louis’ favourite kind of conversation – the rambling
kind with no endpoint where they tell each other all the little stories
and tidbits they forgot to mention before. And Louis is certain
nothing calms him like this; nothing makes him feel more settled than
just getting to spend the day with Harry without any other
responsibilities weighing on his mind.

He lies down again after a while, on his stomach this time, with his
head resting in the crook of his elbow as Harry sits contentedly next
to them. It’s one of the things Louis loves most about their friendship
– the fact that they can just sit together in silence and it’s never
awkward or uncomfortable; they know how to enjoy the stillness
together as much as they know how to talk until their voices are
hoarse.

He watches Harry unashamedly, lips twitching up in a smile as he

starts knotting daisies together, making the beginnings of a daisy
chain.

“You should braid them into your hair,” Louis murmurs after a few
minutes once Harry’s successfully tied his first chain together and set
it aside on the blanket.

55
He looks over at Louis at the sound of his voice, an almost bashful
smile spreading across his face. “Don’t really know how without a
mirror,” he shrugs, idly twirling the daisy he already has in his hand.

Louis just sits up, scooting closer and holding his hand out for the
flower. “Let me do it then.”

Harry starts, mouth dropping open in surprise and looking like he

almost wants to protest but Louis doesn’t give him a choice.

“Five sisters, Haz,” he reminds, gesturing for the flower again which
Harry drops into his hand on autopilot. “I know a thing or two about
braiding hair.”

Harry doesn’t try to argue this time, just scoops up his bundle of
daisies and deposits them next to Louis’ knee. “Where do you want
me?”

“You’re fine like that,” Louis tells him, shuffling just a little bit closer
so he can comfortably reach Harry’s hair from where he’s sitting
perpendicular to him. He sets to work then, taking a section of hair
behind Harry’s ear – the springy bit that’s secretly his favourite – and
beginning to plait it. He’s careful to weave the flowers in, making sure
they’re secure and that the stems aren’t sticking out. Harry is mostly
silent but Louis watches the line of his shoulders relax the longer they
sit there.

When he gets to the end he slips the hair tie off his wrist – Harry
always forgets so Louis usually carries some just in case – and nimbly
ties off the braid. He leans back to admire his work and nods in
satisfaction, nudging Harry gently to get his attention. “All done, H.”

Harry turns to look at him and fuck, he just looks so bloody grateful
and thankful and Louis wants to kiss him so bad. Instead of saying
anything, Harry just picks up the daisy chain he’d made earlier and

56
drops it over Louis’ head, making sure it settles comfortably around
his neck.

“You wear mine and I wear yours,” he says softly, nudging his
forehead against Louis’ and Louis definitely isn’t breathing right now.

Swallowing the dryness in his throat, he nods. “You make them

sound like wedding rings or something,” he tries to joke but the way
his throat catches doesn’t really have the desired effect.

Harry still huffs a laugh though and shakes his head. “Well, according
to Niall we’re already married.”

Louis laughs, he feels like he might throw up but he laughs, and

throws an arm around Harry’s shoulder because he needs to break the
tension somehow. “Come on, Curly. Let’s take a picture of your
pretty hair for your Instagram.”

Harry needs no further prompting to get out his phone and open the
camera, holding it out in front of them and pressing closer to Louis.
“Don’t pull a funny face, Lou,” he warns. “Smile.”

Louis compromises; instead of pulling a stupid face, he leans in and

kisses Harry’s cheek to make Harry smile. It looks better like that
anyway.

Harry’s cheeks are pink and his smile is shy when Louis pulls back
and there’s a tiny part of him that’s going to feel smug about it even if
he won’t say it out loud.

“Come on,” Harry says suddenly. “Let’s go for a walk and then get
dinner. You stay lying out here any longer and you’re gonna get
sunstroke.”

57
“Always have to ruin the fun by being responsible,” he mutters as he
stands up, dancing away when Harry tries to elbow him. “Come on
then, Harold,” he sighs melodramatically. “Let’s walk along the river.”

Harry slings the blanket over his shoulder and follows Louis’ lead
towards the little path that runs parallel to the water. It’s just after five
and the park has cleared out a bit now with it being closer to dinner
time but there’s still plenty of people milling about. The minute they
reach the path Harry links his arm in Louis’, offering him a dazzling
smile when Louis looks over at him.

“Today has been really nice, Lou,” he comments idly, eyes on the
water as they walk.

“You should know by now my ideas are always the best,” Louis
informs him haughtily even if he feels a little bit giddy on the inside.
He just- he never said it was a date and it’s not but it feels like it is.
Actually no, it’s better than a date. Dates are awkward and you spend
most of it lying to impress the other person. This- this feels like
they’ve been together forever and they’ve just decided to spend the
day together. It’s what he wants the rest of his life to feel like.

“I know,” Harry agrees easily, throwing him a wry grin when they
lock eyes.

They walk the rest of the way mostly in silence, looping around and
making their way back towards the car lost in their own thoughts.
(Louis’ thinking about whether Harry’s lips still taste the same as they
did when he was sixteen. What Harry’s thinking, he can only guess.)

He drives them to their favourite hole in the wall restaurant for

dinner and feels the warmth that’s been sitting in his chest all day
begin to spread as they banter with their favourite waiter and get
escorted to their table, as Harry orders his favourite dish and Louis
orders his even though he knows they’ll end up going halvsies and

58
sharing anyway, as Harry’s foot links with his under the table and
stays there.

It’s perfect and Louis can’t figure out if what’s happening right now is
a product of him actually realising he has feelings for Harry and he’s
just projecting or if it’s something that’s always been there that he’s
just never noticed.

Either way, right now still feels like a maybe. Maybe he likes me back.
Maybe we could be together. Maybe we could be enough.

By the time they get home Louis is too sleepy from the sun and too
full from his food to really have the energy to do anything beyond
changing into his joggers and going to bed. He’s hardly been under
his covers ten minutes when he hears Harry sneaking into his room,
banging his foot on the end of the bed and making even more noise
than he would’ve if he’d just walked in normally.

“Alright there, Haz?” Louis asks casually, biting back a laugh when
Harry looks up from where he’s clutching his foot to scowl at him.

“Shut up,” he grumbles even as he hobbles towards the head of the

bed. “I wanna stay in here tonight, my bed’s cold.”

“Your bed’s cold because you have to actually get in it to warm it up,”
Louis points out.

“That’ll take too long,” Harry whines, nudging Louis’ side insistently
until he curls his legs up, allowing Harry the room to climb over him
to get to his side of the bed.

“I thought I was the one who always gets cold?” Louis asks, rolling
onto his other side and pulling Harry back towards his chest because
he knows that’s what he wants.

59
“Yeah, which is why your room is warmer than mine,” Harry
mumbles, folding his arm over Louis’ and pulling their joined hands
closer to his chest.

“Whatever you say, H,” Louis snorts. “You know maybe if you
stopped sleeping naked you wouldn’t get cold.”

“I’m not naked right now,” Harry says slowly.

“And look at that, you’re warm!”

Harry laughs once before it transforms into a yawn. “There’s a flaw in

your logic somewhere but I’m too tired to figure it out right now. I’ll
tell you in the morning.”

“’kay,” Louis replies sleepily, nuzzling the nape of Harry’s neck and
letting his eyes drift shut.

“Lou,” Harry says a few minutes later when Louis is on the brink of
sleep.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Sometimes I just like sleeping next to you, you know.”

Louis pauses, considering how best to reply. Eventually he decides

he’s too exhausted and too in love to really care. “I know,” he
whispers. “So do I.”

With Harry in his arms, he sleeps.

So Louis is having a bit of a crisis. Because, well, something unlocks

inside him after that day with Harry. He’s not just thinking about his

60
own feelings anymore, he’s thinking about whether or not Harry feels
the same way. More than that, he’s starting to believe he might.

But he’s sceptical by nature and he can’t help but think it’s just a cruel
bout of wishful thinking combined with hopeful optimism that’s
making him even consider the possibility Harry has romantic feelings
for him. So he decides to talk to Zayn again; it’s not fool proof but he
needs to vent.

They’re at Niall and Liam’s flat and Harry is the only one missing.
When Louis had inquired as to why he wasn’t with Niall when he
arrived home from work Niall just shrugged and told him the
restaurant was hosting a birthday and Harry got stuck behind doing
the finishing touches on the cake.

Niall and Liam are currently engrossed in a game of Fifa and Louis
realises he has an incredibly small window of time to get Zayn alone
and get his advice before Harry shows up and before the lads finish
their game.

“Z, are you going for a fag any time soon?” Louis asks as casually as
he possibly can. Which, unfortunately, is not very.

Zayn doesn’t even bother looking up from his phone as he answers.

“You haven’t smoked since uni, Louis.”

“I wasn’t going to have one too,” he huffs. “I was just thinking of

getting some fresh air.”

Zayn does look up that, narrowing his eyes while he appraises Louis.
“By standing next to me while I smoke?”

“Never mind,” Louis grumbles, holding in his noise of frustration and

crossing his arms over his chest. Oblivious, Zayn is.

Niall, apparently, isn’t.

61
He pauses the game and turns around from where he’s sitting cross-
legged on the carpet to give Louis a look. “What’s wrong with you?”

Louis makes an affronted noise, immediately going for defence.

“What d’you mean?!”

“You’re being all shifty,” Niall accuses. “Why do you wanna get Zayn
alone?”

“Wh- I am not,” he denies vehemently, scowling at Niall for good

measure. “And maybe I wanna talk to Zayn about something, that’s
none of your business.”

“Unless it’s about a surprise party for my birthday at the end of the
month then there’s really no reason you can’t talk to all of us,” Liam
intones, raising his eyebrows when Louis turns his glare to him.

“Wait,” Zayn cuts in, his expression suggesting he’s finally fucking
figured out why Louis wanted to talk to him. “Is this about Harry?”

“What about Harry?” Liam asks automatically.

“Zayn!” Louis exclaims indignantly, giving him a look that very

plainly says what the fuck, bro?

Zayn, the dick, only smirks at him.

“Hang on,” Niall interrupts. “Is this about how Harry and Louis have
been dating without really dating for like nine years?”

“Pretty much,” Zayn shrugs and Liam makes a noise of

understanding.

62
“Oh well you could’ve just said that,” he says, looking at Louis
completely unassumingly as if Louis hasn’t just heard the most
ludicrous sentence he’s possibly ever heard in his entire life.

He gapes at the lot of them and when all he gets is blank stares in
return he starts to splutter. “Dating without really- what?! Have you
all thought this the whole time?”

The boys share a look before Niall seems to decide to be the one
who’ll bite the bullet. “Well, yeah,” he says like it’s obvious.

Louis can only stare at them utterly uncomprehendingly, mouth

working as he tries to come up with an answer until he finally grinds
out, “How?” and buries his head in his hands.

“Louis,” Liam says carefully, like Louis’ a baby animal he’s afraid to
scare off. “Don’t tell me you’ve only just noticed…”

“Yes, Liam. This is the reaction of a person who’s known they’ve

been in love with their best mate for years,” he snaps hysterically,
fixing Liam with an incredulous look that makes him shrink back
from where he’s sitting on the floor with Niall.

“But, like,” Niall continues a little doubtfully. “It’s obvious.”

“Not to me,” Louis hisses shrilly. Jesus christ, he needs new friends.
“Or Harry,” he adds belatedly.

“Still haven’t figured out if Harry feels the same way then?” Zayn
surmises, which isn’t really all that helpful now.

Louis shrugs noncommittally, staring steadfastly at his hands and

Niall snorts.

“What are you on about? Of course he does.”

63
Louis looks up at that, eyes meeting Niall’s. “Why? Has he said
something to you?”

“No,” Niall replies slowly. “But like I said. It’s obvious.”

“It really is,” Liam adds, offering Louis an apologetic smile when he
scowls at him. “You two’ve been gone for each other for as long as
I’ve known you. I always thought you were having us on in uni when
you’d say you weren’t together.”

“That’s just how we are though,” Louis says confusedly – he’s way in
over his head right now, how the fuck have they all been sitting on
this for so long?

“Yeah and how you are is not how normal mates are,” Niall explains
simply as if anything about this is simple.

“We’re getting off topic,” Zayn says, regarding Louis with a pointed
look. “What happened? Did you talk to Harry?”

“I- well, kind of?” Louis hedges.

“What does that mean?” Zayn presses.

“It means we went out the other day and it felt like a date and I think
maybe it could’ve possibly felt like that for him too,” Louis breathes
out in a rush, meeting each of their gazes hesitantly. Liam looks
sympathetic, smiling encouragingly at him. Niall looks like he wants
to cry in relief at the word “date”. And Zayn has a tiny smug tilt to his
mouth.

“That sounds promising,” he nods.

Louis bites his lip, trying to keep the anxiousness out of his voice
when he speaks. “What if I’m just making it all up in my head
though?”
64
“I promise you, you’re not,” Niall scoffs and Louis sighs. That’s not
helping, Horan.

“I wanna tell him,” he confesses quietly. “But I don’t want to ruin

everything if I’m wrong.”

“Lou, this is Harry we’re talking about,” Liam reminds him. “Even if,
on the off chance, he didn’t feel the same way, do you honestly think
he’d push you away?”

“No,” Louis admits because he knows exactly what Harry would do.
“He’d break his own heart trying to make me happy and bend over
backwards to make sure I knew how much he cared about me. Which
would just make everything worse.”

“But-“

Zayn doesn’t get to finish his sentence because no sooner has Louis
finished speaking when the front door swings open, revealing a
dishevelled looking Harry still in his chef’s uniform.

All four of them turn to stare at him and Harry smiles sheepishly.
“Hey,” he offers weakly. He looks exhausted, his hair has come loose
in his bun and the bags under his eyes are definitely more pronounced
than they were this morning. Suddenly Louis doesn’t care about what
either of them feels; he just wants to take care of his boy.

“You okay, love?” he asks quietly, ignoring the look Zayn shoots him.

Harry sighs, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes. He
pads into the living area where the lads are sitting and picks his way
through Niall and Liam on the floor to make his way to Louis on the
sofa. “Just been a long day,” he shrugs, wincing at the tightness in his
shoulders the action causes.

65
Louis knows exactly what he needs. He doesn’t bother saying
anything, just opens his arms.

Without needing further prompting, Harry drops onto the sofa,

sagging into Louis’ waiting arms. Louis takes a second to rearrange
them, lying properly flat on his back while Harry settles between his
legs and uses his chest as a pillow. He’s glad Zayn opted for the
armchair tonight because Louis would’ve definitely kicked him off the
couch to accommodate Harry.

Harry’s cheek is flat against his chest, the top of his head just tickling
Louis’ chin and Louis brings his hands up to trail up and down his
back – he’s probably gonna need to give him a back rub when they
get home.

None of the lads say anything but Louis can feel all their eyes on
them; if Harry notices, he doesn’t point it out.

“How’d the party go?” Niall asks instead, opting for neutral territory,
thank god.

“Okay,” Harry sighs and if Louis had to guess he’d say his eyes were
closed. “They loved the cake,” he adds happily, the soft pride in his
voice making Louis melt a bit.

“Of course they did,” he says, running a soothing hand over Harry’s
shoulder. “You made it.”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head weakly against Louis’ chest and
mumbling a soft, “y’r too good for me, Lou.”

“Only telling the truth, darling,” he murmurs low enough that the
boys won’t hear. Harry just hums in response, one of his hands
snaking out to find Louis’.

66
Louis lets him tangle their fingers together and doesn’t pay any mind
to the looks he knows Niall, Liam and Zayn are sharing right now. He
wouldn’t have cared before and he shouldn’t care now. He doesn’t
really, not while Harry’s here and needs to be taken care of.

After a while the lads seem to tire of Fifa and Liam decides to put on
a DVD instead; neither he or Niall try to move them, letting Harry
rest and opting to stay sprawled on the floor with their backs against
the sofa. Louis doesn’t really pay attention to the movie if he’s honest.
He’s too busy alternating between absently twirling Harry’s curls
around his fingers and rubbing his back. Harry doesn’t let go of his
left hand and Louis doesn’t make him. What better things could his
hand be doing besides holding Harry’s anyway?

Harry falls asleep before long. It’s obvious the moment he becomes a
dead weight on top of Louis and his hand goes lax in Louis’. He
doesn’t bother trying to wake him, just continues petting his hair and
keeping one eye trained on the movie.

“Lou.”

Louis cranes his head at the whisper, meeting Zayn’s gaze over the
top of Harry’s head.

“Tell him,” Zayn mouths, offering him an encouraging smile.

Louis feels his cheeks heat up and he drops his head back onto the
arm rest beneath him.

He might tell him.

When he wakes Harry up a few hours later to head home he’s barely
functioning. He clings to Louis’ back like a koala, stumbling out to

67
the taxi and practically climbing into Louis’ lap once they’re safely
inside.

Zayn takes the front seat since he’s getting dropped off first and chats
amiably with the driver; Louis just keeps an arm wrapped around
Harry and rests his cheek on the top of Harry’s head where it’s buried
in the crook of his neck.

The drive home after they reach Zayn’s is thankfully short and after
paying the driver, Louis hauls Harry out of the cab and directs him
into their building with his hands on his waist. “You’re so useless
when you’re tired,” he huffs as Harry trips over his own feet when
he’s stepping through the door.

“Stop bein’ mean,” Harry grumbles and Louis rolls his eyes when he
sees Harry’s are closed – far too trusting, that one.

The journey from their lobby to the lift to their flat takes about five
minutes longer than it should’ve but Louis eventually gets Harry into
their flat, letting him slouch against the wall while he deals with
locking the door.

“Alright, come on, love,” he coaxes, holding his hand out for Harry.
“Bedtime.”

Harry nods sleepily, scrubbing at his eyes and looking like a

disgruntled kitten – Louis is so fucking endeared. He latches onto
Louis’ hand, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder as he guides them
down through the living area and down the hallway.

He’s just about to lead Harry into his bedroom when the boy in
question makes a noise of protest. “No, Lou,” he whines into Louis’
neck, clinging tighter. “Wanna sleep with you.”

Louis freezes. He knows what Harry means; it still gives him a pause
though. “You sure they didn’t give you champagne at that birthday
68
party before you left work?” he teases lightly, hovering in the hallway
between their bedrooms and eyeing both doors uncertainly.

“You know what I mean,” Harry huffs, blowing a breath out against
the curve of Louis’ throat. He shivers and he hopes to fucking god
Harry’s too exhausted to notice.

Louis hesitates as he considers what to do. He wants to share a bed;

he always does and quite frankly the frequency with which it’s been
happening recently has made it pretty difficult to sleep on his own.
But he can’t help but feel like he’s taking advantage somehow, like it’s
not fair to do it when Harry doesn’t know the full extent of his
feelings. But then Harry’s making grumpy noises again and tugging on
his hoodie and Louis figures he’s too needy to be responsible right
now.

“Okay, babe,” he soothes, leading them towards Harry’s room. When

Harry starts to object again Louis shushes him quickly. “Let’s stay in
yours tonight, H. Your back is killing you from sleeping on my
mattress all the time.”

Harry seems appeased by that and allows Louis to push his bedroom
door open. “Get changed, love,” he instructs into Harry’s hair, letting
him go reluctantly. “I’ll be right back.”

Louis goes back to his own room to change and give himself a second
to breathe. He just needs a moment, only a moment, to bring himself
back to earth so he doesn’t get lost in some fantasy world where he
and Harry are together and this is their life.

Taking a deep breath, he leaves his room once he’s changed and pads
back into Harry’s. Harry is already in bed when he gets there, eyes
fluttering in his attempt to keep them open – like he was afraid Louis
wouldn’t come back if he closed them.

69
Louis doesn’t say anything as he climbs into his side of the bed – he
especially doesn’t think about the fact that he has a side of the bed in
relation to Harry in the first place. Harry latches onto him as soon as
he’s lying down, curving against his side and resting his head over
Louis’ chest.

Louis feels all too aware of the fact Harry’s ear is pressed directly over
his heart and sincerely hopes he doesn’t notice how hard it’s beating.
Harry, for his part, only presses a gentle kiss to his t-shirt covered
chest and murmurs a soft, “goodnight, Lou,” before settling against
him again.

Louis swallows the dryness in his throat and curls a hand into Harry’s
hair before letting his eyes drift shut. “Night, love.”

“Louis,” Harry groans, burying his face in his pillow and clenching it
between his fingers.

Louis smirks and digs his fingers into the knot of tense muscle
between Harry’s shoulder blades. “There?” he guesses, hard pressed
to wipe the smug grin off his face from where he’s perched on top of
Harry’s bum.

“Yes,” Harry sighs, sounding completely blissed out as his grip on the
pillow relaxes.

Harry’s always had a bit of a bad back. He blames it on the paper

round he used to do around their neighbourhood when he was a kid.
Louis rolls his eyes and blames it on Harry’s clumsiness and a bad fall
he had on a trampoline when he was ten. Either way, when Louis was
a teenager he googled massage tips to help Harry deal with it. He’s
been Harry’s unofficial masseuse ever since.

70
He continues massaging the same spot until he feels Harry’s muscles
finally begin to loosen and the boy becomes putty in his hands,
melting into the mattress underneath him.

“Y’r fingers are magic, Lou,” he slurs, voice muffled by the pillow.

Louis barks out a laugh, smoothing his hands over Harry’s shoulders.
“That’s what all the boys say.”

He hears Harry huff out something under his breath but it’s said too
low for him to make out what it is.

He retaliates by pressing down hard on another area of tension just

below Harry’s right shoulder blade, eliciting a moan from Harry. And
all too suddenly Louis becomes aware of his position. He’s in Harry’s
bed, sitting on top of his fucking arse while Harry is shirtless beneath
him and Louis’ hands are all over him.

Harry making sex noises whenever they did this before was always
funny, just something else Louis could tease him about. Given Louis’
recent revelations, he’s failing to see the funny side right now…

His mouth is dry and his hands still on Harry’s back without meaning
to as he tries to figure out how to proceed. He doesn’t think he can
make it through the rest of this without getting hard. Not when he’s
suddenly so aware of Harry shifting restlessly beneath him or the way
his face is slack with pleasure where it’s resting on the pillow. He
can’t-

“Why’d you stop?” Harry whines, cutting off his internal freak-out,
and he automatically begins moving his hands up and down Harry’s
back again.

“Sorry,” he mutters faintly. “Thought I heard the phone ring.”

“Leave it,” Harry mumbles. “’m not done with you yet.”
71
And oh- alright then. That’s really not helping the situation. Louis can
feel his cock stirring in his pants and he needs to end this
immediately; this is too much, he can’t-

“Y’know what I’m gonna do?” he says suddenly, voice only sounding
mildly hysterical. “I’m gonna book you into a spa. In fact, I’ll go too.
You deserve a spa day and I’m sure a professional could handle this
much better than I could,” he babbles as he pointedly doesn’t think
about what it would feel like if the last layer of clothing separating
them wasn’t there.

Harry rolls over underneath him, unseating Louis for a moment until
he’s flat on his back and oh great, now Louis’ sitting on his crotch,
what is this- torture-Louis-with-sexual-frustration day?

“No one does it like you do, Lou,” Harry murmurs, hands falling to
Louis’ thighs as he looks earnestly up at him. “You’re the only one
who knows how to get rid of all that built-up tension.”

Yep. Definitely torture-Louis-with-sexual-frustration day.

Sharing a bed seems to become an unshakable habit over the next few
days. Some nights they makes excuses:

“The heating’s not working in my room.”

“Let’s watch a movie on your laptop.”

“My sheets are in the wash.”

Other times they simply don’t say anything, just curl up next to each
other and let themselves drift off.

72
The thing is, it’s not like they’ve never shared a bed before. They have
plenty of times throughout their friendship. To this day, they still do
sometimes after a night out or if they’re watching a movie in one
another’s rooms or something. The difference is now it’s happening
every night.

Louis doesn’t really know what it means but he knows it means

something.

He hasn’t told Harry how he feels yet, mostly because he still can’t
really comprehend it himself and he doesn’t even know what he’d
begin to say if given the chance. So he keeps it to himself for now
until he can explain it the right way.

He knows something has changed though, he can feel it – the little

click every time they look at each other. And every time Harry’s
cheeks pinken if they stare at each other for too long Louis has to
physically force himself to keep his mouth shut lest all his feelings
burst out of him.

He’ll tell him. He wants to. He just has to be sure.

It’s a Saturday night and, by some miraculous feat, Harry and Niall
actually have the day off so, being the young, single men they are,
they decide to go out.

They pre-drink at Harry and Louis’ place, making cocktails that

definitely don’t contain the correct measurements and that leave them
all pleasantly tipsy as they make their way into town.

The club is buzzing when they arrive and Liam expertly weaves them
through the crowds of people to find an empty booth to take up
residence in. Louis sits closest to the wall as Harry squeezes in beside
him while Liam and Zayn sit opposite them. Niall yells over the noise
73
that he’s going to get the first round before disappearing into the
throngs of people – even though it basically defeats the purpose of
pre-drinking which is to avoid paying ridiculous club prices for
alcohol in the first place.

It’s fairly difficult to have a conversation over the noise so they

mostly just pay attention to what’s going on around them while they
wait for Niall to come back. Louis, for his part, is generally just trying
not to stare too obviously at Harry. Harry in his black sheer shirt, half
unbuttoned and his jeans so tight they might as well be painted on.
It’s fucking ridiculous.

He can only take so much of Harry’s thigh pressed against his own
before he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin. So he
nudges Harry gently in the ribs to catch his attention.

Harry turns to look at him, his eyes bright in the low light and Louis
finds himself offering a weak smile as he half-signs, half-yells that he’s
gonna help Niall with the drinks.

Harry nods in understanding and scoots out of the booth to let Louis
out and Louis scrambles out of his seat, hurrying away from the table
without a backwards glance. He needs more alcohol in his system
before he can look Harry in the eye properly.

Getting to the bar is a difficult enough feat but Louis is small and
pretty good at shoving through crowds, so he slips in between group
after group and eventually arrives at his destination. Niall, however, is
nowhere to be seen.

Louis lifts up on his toes, trying to see over the heads of people to
find a shock of blond hair but it’s to no avail. He’s just about to try
the other end of the bar when he bumps into someone.

Strong arms immediately catch him around the waist - even though
he barely stumbled – and when he looks up his eyes land on a tall,
74
muscly bloke with messy dark hair. He’s attractive, Louis supposes,
but while he’s ostensibly single right now, he’s not exactly looking.

The guy, however, still has his hands on Louis’ waist and is smiling
charmingly – or what he thinks is charmingly. “So sorry,” he
apologises, hand not so innocently sliding over Louis’ hip. “Didn’t see
you.”

“No problem, mate,” Louis smiles tightly, holding back an eyeroll.

The bloke hasn’t even tried it on yet and Louis already feels
embarrassed for him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m looking for my mate,” he continues,

far more dismissively than he means to be. He makes to step away
but the guy’s hands tighten on his waist.

“Why don’t I help you look?” he offers. “I’m Peter-“

Louis huffs, cutting him off. “Listen, that’s great but I-“

“Lou! There you are!” a voice comes from behind him and instantly
he has a different pair of arms wrapping around his chest. He freezes
for a second because it’s Harry but then he relaxes because it’s Harry.

Louis leans back in Harry’s hold, letting him support his weight and
when he steps back Peter’s hands fall off his hips without resistance.

“Who’s your friend, Lou?” Harry murmurs it into his ear, eyes trained
on Peter, and Louis knows it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear but
he’s not particularly concerned about that right now when he’s trying
to suppress his shiver at the low rumble of Harry’s voice.

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis mumbles, gaze still on Peter’s narrowed eyes.

“Oh. Well I hope you don’t mind me stealing this one back,” Harry
says to Peter and it takes everything Louis has not to burst out
75
laughing because that’s Harry’s customer voice that he uses when
pissy diners at the restaurant are being rude about his food and he has
to pretend to be polite.

He doesn’t give Peter a chance to reply, just slowly begins tugging

Louis away and within seconds Peter has disappeared in the crowd.
As soon as he’s out of sight, Louis turns around in the circle of
Harry’s arms and raises his eyebrows.

Harry immediately turns sheepish under his gaze and looks away with
an embarrassed smile.

“So, what was that then?” Louis asks with a smirk, poking Harry’s
chest to make him return his gaze.

“Niall came back to the table without you,” Harry mutters; Louis
wouldn’t even be able to hear if it weren’t for the fact that he breathes
the words right into his ear. “When I went to look for you I found
that guy all over you.”

“Mm, you seemed quite possessive there, Curly,” Louis drawls

teasingly. This is a pretty regular occurrence, honestly. Louis’ lost
count of the amount of times they’ve pretended to be boyfriends to
get someone who won’t take a hint to fuck off.

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles and Louis can’t tell in the dim light of the
club but he’d be willing to bet all his money that Harry’s blushing.

“Shall we head back to the table then?” he suggests, nodding his head
vaguely in the direction of their booth.

“The others are gone dancing,” Harry tells him, eyes on the
dancefloor before they return to Louis. “Wanna get out of here?”

“We just got here?” Louis replies confusedly.

76
“’m not really feeling it tonight,” Harry says, arm slipping from
around Louis’ middle to catch his hand. “I’ve got a better idea.”

Louis watches him for a second, takes in the mischievous twinkle in

his eyes, spares a parting thought for the lads and decides he’d follow
Harry to the ends of the earth as long as he never lost that look in his
eye.

“Well then lead the way,” he agrees, gesturing for Harry to go first.

Harry’s smile is blinding as he starts pulling Louis towards the door.

The cool air outside is a shock to the system after the stuffiness of the
club but he barely gets a chance to get used to it before Harry’s
ushering him into a taxi.

Once they’re seated Louis sends a text off to the lads to let them
know they’ve left, only half-listening as Harry tells the driver their
destination. Except then Louis catches the name of a familiar street
and drops his phone in his lap to regard Harry with a curious look.
“Did you just give him our address?” he asks.

At Harry’s wry nod Louis scoffs.

“We’re going home?” he demands. “Harold, come on. This is your

better idea?”

“Patience, babe,” Harry insists, biting his lip to stifle his giggle at
Louis’ sceptical look.

Louis, to his credit though, doesn’t actually protest as they’re driven

home, just tips his head against Harry’s shoulder and watches the
streets whiz past.

Harry pays their fare once they arrive back at the flat before Louis can
even begin to fight him on it so he just resolves to get the next one
and follows Harry inside.
77
“Wait out here,” Harry instructs when they reach their front door. “I
just need to grab something.”

Louis nods and leans against the opposite wall, watching Harry
disappear into their flat. He’s barely counted to thirty by the time
Harry comes back with a bottle of wine in one hand and a familiar
looking blanket under his arm.

Louis looks up in surprise, meeting the soft expression on Harry’s

face. “What are you-“

“Come on,” Harry whispers with a tiny smile, locking their door and
starting down the hall towards the stairwell. It’s the one leading to the
roof and Louis has a fairly good idea of where they’re going.

They climb the three flights of stairs it takes to get to the top and
Harry pushes the door open, shoving a cinderblock against the door
to keep it open before stepping out onto roof. Their flat isn’t in the
heart of London city but the area they live in is still pretty built-up. As
Louis steps out behind him, he can’t help but marvel a little at the way
the city is lit up, thousands of lights making his vision blur around the
edges.

Their roof isn’t very exciting; it has a tiny greenhouse in one of the
corners that the lady in the flat above them uses to grow vegetable
but other than that, it’s relatively empty. God, he hasn’t been up here
in ages; probably not since they first moved in and went exploring.

Harry lays the blanket out on the concrete and sits down, looking
back to Louis while he waits for him to join him. He looks beautiful
with his hair blowing in the wind and the bright lights of the city
making the air around him sparkle. It makes Louis’ breath catch.

“The ground’s hard,” he points out as he edges hesitantly closer to

the blanket.
78
“So use me as a pillow; get over here,” Harry laughs and Louis thinks
his knees might give out if he doesn’t sit down soon. So he does. He
crawls onto the blanket next to Harry and lies down when Harry does
– flat on their backs, shoulders, arms and legs brushing.

“Can almost see the stars,” Harry murmurs happily. It takes Louis
back to when they were teenagers. Louis’ bedroom window sat right
above the lower roof from where their kitchen extended out into the
back garden and they got into the habit of sitting out there whenever
they wanted to have important conversations.

They haven’t even started talking yet and this already feels like an
important conversation.

Harry uncaps the bottle of wine without much flourish and takes a
sip, handing it off to Louis when he’s finished. Louis ponders it for a
moment as he sits up a bit to take a drink. But ultimately he just
shrugs and takes a swig. He’s idly aware it’s probably a bad idea. His
buzz that he had earlier from pre-drinking is starting to wane but that
doesn’t mean half a bottle of wine won’t go straight to his head.

He thinks he might need a little bit of Dutch courage though.

They pass the bottle back and forth between them without saying
much. Most comments are short and murmured around the rim of
the bottle. It’s silly things like pointing out made up constellations and
Harry trying to find the exact right colour to describe the sky. As they
slowly drain the bottle, it’s fair to say they’re drunk. Harry keeps
giggling around where he’s biting his knuckle and Louis usually joins
him after a second, not even entirely sure what he’s laughing at. They
fall silent after a while once Harry sets the empty bottle to the side
and resumes staring up at the sky in wonder.

Louis’ mind is frustratingly blank and he wishes he knew what to say,

wishes he knew how to break the tension that’s been building
79
between them for weeks. Instead he tentatively stretches out his pinky
finger and finds Harry’s, locking them together tightly between them.

Harry doesn’t say anything but when Louis rolls his neck to the side
to look at him he sees him grinning up at the sky.

Before Louis has a chance to look away Harry is turning his head to
meet his gaze and Louis is stuck. He’s stuck on Harry’s eyes, on his
mouth, on his everything. Their eyes search one another’s faces and
Louis doesn’t know what Harry finds but all he sees is light. That’s all
Harry is – thousands of light particles forged together to create
something ethereal.

He wants to kiss him. He always wants to kiss him but right now he
really wants to kiss him.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Harry whispers like he’s reading Louis’
mind, eyes shining and lips quirked up in the softest smile Louis has
possibly ever seen in his entire life.

“Was thinking about it,” he whispers back, doesn’t think his voice
would support anything louder.

“I think you should wait,” Harry tells him.

Louis licks his lips; their faces are so close their foreheads are just shy
of touching. He thinks he could probably count Harry’s eyelashes if
he wanted to. “Why?”

Harry’s voice is soft and feather light when he replies, dimples sunk
into his cheeks as he looks at Louis. “Because I want to remember
every single detail and every single feeling when you kiss me for the
first time and I don’t think I would if you did it right now.”

“Not the first time,” Louis reminds uselessly, throat bobbing as he

watches Harry’s smile transform until he’s beaming.
80
“No,” he replies, gaze faraway like he’s reliving the memory. “I
suppose it isn’t.”

“Harry,” Louis says.

“Mm?”

“I’m gonna kiss you again one day.”

Harry nods, biting his lower lip as he appraises Louis. “I’ll hold you to
that.”

They don’t talk about it the next day but Louis knows Harry
remembers. He can see it in the way his gaze lingers on Louis
throughout the day, in the little uptick of his smile every time Louis
looks back at him.

He can’t really put the silence all on Harry though because he’s not
saying anything either but he just- he’s scared. And he knows it’s
irrational and stupid because Harry very, clearly wanted to kiss him
last night but what if Harry only wanted a kiss while Louis wants
everything?

It’s a strange feeling because Louis has never been afraid to talk about
what he’s feeling with Harry. They’ve always been completely honest
and open with each other. He just needs to psych himself up, just
needs to convince himself that telling Harry is worth the risk.

He thinks it might be – he hopes it is – but for now, he just needs to

wait a little bit longer.

So he bites his tongue, pulls Harry close and pretends he’s not about
to choke on all the words threatening to spill out of his mouth.
81
 *

The next couple of days pass normally for the most part.

They have breakfast together – and dinner whenever Harry’s hours

allow it – they spend time with the lads, they go shopping and for
walks and for ice-cream, they spend lazy nights curled up in front of
the tv and when all is said and done at the end of the night they crawl
into the same bed and wrap themselves around each other like they’re
terrified to let go.

Louis is starting to understand why people always assumed they were

dating.

Lottie comes to London for the weekend the third week of August to
start on some preliminary wedding dress shopping so Louis and
Harry decide to meet her at Rosso’s for lunch. Louis practically
upends his chair when she comes through the door of the restaurant,
immediately bounding over to sweep her into a hug. It’s been far too
long since he went home for a visit.

“Missed you, small fry,” he mumbles into her hair as he squeezes her
tight.

“Look who’s talking,” she scoffs but she hugs him back just as
fiercely so Louis knows she missed him.

“Alright, my turn,” comes from his right and Harry begins jabbing his
side insistently to move Louis out of the way.

Louis huffs a laugh but releases Lottie to let Harry wrap her in an
enormous bear hug. He’s always treated Louis’ siblings as if they were

82
his own - it makes something swell inside Louis whenever he sees just
how much Harry truly cares for his family.

“Let me see the ring!” Harry says suddenly, letting Lottie go to grab
her hand instead.

This piques Louis’ interest; he’s seen a picture but nothing is the same
as seeing it up close. He steps back into Harry’s space, dropping his
chin onto his shoulder and peering at Lottie’s hand over Harry’s
shoulder.

When he spots the rock on her finger he whistles lowly, eyes

widening slowly. “Damn, Lotts. He really went all out.”

“It’s beautiful,” Harry tells her, squeezing her hand as he does before
letting it go.

Lottie rolls her eyes like she’s unaffected but Louis can see her
blushing under her makeup - it’s adorable. “Yeah, yeah; we’re in
everyone’s way and my legs are exhausted from walking all morning.
Let’s sit down.”

“Did you come on your own?” Harry asks as they all settle into their
seats.

“Fizzy had work,” she shrugs, gingerly picking up her menu. “And
this was the only weekend I had free this month. I wanted to start
looking as early as possible, start coming up with ideas, y’know?”

“Well, you could’ve asked us,” Harry says, looking almost dejected
that he wasn’t asked. “We would’ve helped.”

Lottie immediately fixes Louis with a pointed look and he laughs

uneasily. Shit. “Yeah, Lotts,” he joins in, reclining back in his chair
and raising his eyebrows at her, affecting a cool demeanour. “Get the
male perspective and that.”
83
Lottie narrows her eyes at Louis before she seems to realise what he’s
done. She scoffs, shaking her head and directing her answer to Harry.
“Louis has one week left before he goes back to school. I’m fairly
sure he doesn't want to spend one of his precious days off helping
me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, sister dearest,” he says sweetly,
fluttering his eyelashes for good measure.

Lottie only arches her eyebrow in response.

Shit, okay. Confession time. “Alright fine,” Louis huffs. “I pretended

we were busy. You know how shrill she gets when she’s stressed,
Haz,” he adds directly to Harry.

“You were just afraid I’d yell at you,” she snorts.

“Was not-“

“Are we ready to order?” Perrie interrupts, suddenly appearing at

their table and eyeing each of them warily, tight smile plastered on her
face.

“Maybe give these two a few more minutes,” Harry laughs, handing
Perrie his menu. “I’ll have my usual though, thanks, Pez.”

“Got it,” she smirks, offering Louis and Lottie a genial nod. “I’ll be
back in a few minutes then.”

“Are we gonna play nice now?” Harry asks once Perrie’s retreated
from their table, a sly grin on his face as he meets Louis’ gaze.

He nods in satisfaction once he gets a monotone “Fine” from both

Louis and Lottie. “So Lotts, have you set a date yet?”

84
Lottie nods after she’s taken a sip of her water, setting her glass back
down on the table. “Yeah, we’re thinking June next year. We’re just
waiting for confirmation from the hotel.”

“Oh that’s so exciting,” Harry gushes before segueing straight into

potential colour schemes and Louis finds himself watching him
affectionately. He’s so earnest and so ridiculously sweet and Louis is
suddenly hit all over again with what a good heart he has. And he
knows, in no matter what capacity, he’s so fucking lucky to have
Harry in his life.

Lunch after that mainly consists of discussing vague wedding plans

and comparing possible options while catching up on whatever
they’ve missed in each other’s lives. Perrie comes back to take their
orders at some point and their food is delivered not long after but
other than that it’s just a lot of laughing and a lot of talking and it
feels so much like when they were teenagers and the three of them –
along with Gemma – would have their monthly lunch dates.

It’s when Harry goes to the bathroom that Lottie corners him. “So,”
she starts ambiguously, eyeing Louis like that’s meant to mean
something.

“So?” he replies expectantly.

“You two seem oddly close,” she comments with a suggestive look
and Louis just about manages to hold back his groan.

“Lottie,” he complains, rolling his eyes. His sister does not need to
know that he’s potentially planning on telling his best friend of almost
twenty years that he’s in love with him. She’d just freak him out even
more by attempting to help. “We have this conversation every couple
of months and every couple of months I tell you the same thing.
We’re best mates.”

85
“Yeah, best mates that play footsie under the table,” she snorts. At
Louis’ deer-in-the-headlights look, she elaborates. “Harry accidentally
hooked his foot around my ankle thinking it was yours earlier, nearly
had a bloody heart attack when he realised it was me.”

Louis is a bit lost for words at that because, well, they were playing
footsie under the table. Oops.

“That was just- look, we-“ he sputters, floundering for some bogus
excuse but he’s thankfully saved from having to come up with
anything when Harry returns to the table.

She drops it but not without a significant look at Louis. And seriously,
people need to stop fucking doing that. Fine, he loves Harry. The
whole world knew before he did. He gets it.

They pay the bill shortly after since Lottie needs to get back to dress
hunting. Harry informs her they’re coming with her, levelling Louis
with a look that just dares him to protest.

Louis considers fighting back just for the fun of it but ultimately sighs
and nods his head. “Fine.”

Lottie looks between them and distinctly mutters the word,

“whipped,” under her breath so Louis stomps on her foot and strides
out the door of the restaurant like the mature adult he is. The only
reason Lottie doesn’t fight back is because Harry has linked arms with
her, smug smile plastered on his face as he says, “We’re helping her,
Louis. She’s your sister.”

“Please,” Louis scoffs, hovering in place while he waits for Harry and
Lottie to catch up with him and then falling into step on Harry’s
other side. Harry promptly links his arm through Louis’. “You just
want free champagne and to salivate over any designer clothes you
can get your hands on.”

86
“Exactly, so stop ruining my day,” he teases, hip-checking Louis as
they walk.

“On second thought,” Lottie interrupts from Harry’s other side,

grimacing at them both. “I don’t want you around if you’re gonna act
all married all day.”

“You’re literally engaged,” Harry retorts with a laugh, seemingly

completely unaffected by Lottie’s little quip. Meanwhile Louis is
about to have an existential crisis over whether his heart eyes are too
obvious.

“Yeah and you two have been playing house since you were seven;
there’s only one gross married couple here and I’m not part of it,” she
remarks and Louis is so fucking close to begging the ground to open
up and swallow him whole. Fuck, why is he from a family of
ridiculously blunt meddlers?

Harry laughs again but he sounds a little bit more uneasy. “Whatever,
Lotts. You’re just jealous because yours and Gemma’s friendship isn’t
half as perfect as mine and Lou’s.”

“Or half as co-dependent,” she mutters and Louis feels his face
instantly heat up. This is why he didn’t want to spend the day with
her. She always fucking sells him out.

He changes the subject before it can go on any longer, tugging Harry

and subsequently Lottie in the direction of the tube station to go back
into the city centre. He spends the rest of the day sitting in fancy
chairs and eating tiny teacakes with Harry while Lottie puts on a
veritable fashion show for them and takes silly pictures to send Fizzy.

There are worse ways to spend the day.

87
“Hey Lou!” Harry leans over the back of the sofa, ducking down by
Louis’ head and giving him a dazzling smile. In other words, he wants
something.

“Yes, Harold?” Louis asks amusedly, pausing the tv and turning

around to look at him properly.

“I’m going baking, wanna join?”

Louis’ smile immediately drops off his face. “When have I ever been
good at baking?”

“Now is as good a time as any to pick it up!” Harry insists

enthusiastically. “Please? I’ll teach you and I promise I’ll give you all
the easy jobs.”

Louis hesitates a second too long and Harry goes in for the kill.
“Please, Lou,” he needles. “I’ll let you lick the cake batter off the
bowl when we’re done.”

Louis is just about to remark that he’d rather lick the cake batter off
Harry’s abs before he remembers to stop himself. You’re still just
friends, he reprimands himself, chill the fuck out.

“Fine,” he acquiesces, rolling his eyes at Harry delightedly clapping

his hands but he’s biting the inside of his cheek to stop his smile.
Harry jogs around to the front of the sofa and Louis allows himself to
be dragged up into a standing position and herded into the kitchen.

“What are we making?” he asks, surveying the various ingredients

Harry has already laid out on the countertop.

“I figured we’d start easy and go with cupcakes since you’re so

adorably inept,” he quips, hip-checking Louis as he passes his him on
his way to the fridge.

88
“Haha,” Louis retorts sarcastically, taking the apron Harry hands him
with a scowl. “Right comedian, you are.”

“I know,” Harry answers wryly, slipping his own apron over his head.
“Wash your hands, Lou. You don’t want to pass on your germs.”

“To who?” Myself?” Louis scoffs but obligingly moves to the sink.

“To me.”

“Pretty sure you’re immune to my cooties by now, Harold.”

“Better not risk it,” Harry teases, suddenly much closer than he’d
been a moment ago, touching Louis from shoulder to hip as he gently
nudges him out of the way to wash his own hands. Louis releases a
breath slowly and steps away.

It’s getting harder to be around Harry like this. Getting harder to be

in his space without feeling like it’s not enough, like he needs to be
closer.

He spends the first few minutes measuring out flour and sugar per
Harry’s instructions while Harry busies himself with the mixing bowl
and the butter.

“Pass the sugar, Lou,” Harry requests and Louis hands it off,
watching Harry tip it into the bowl with the butter and begin
creaming the two together. He looks up when he realises Louis is
staring at him, offering Louis an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you
do the eggs?” he suggests. “Just crack two in that bowl and whisk
them together.”

Louis nods uncertainly, picking up one of the eggs and gently tapping
it against the bowl until he feels it give. He cracks it, letting out a
quiet, triumphant noise when he doesn’t get any shell in the bowl

89
before he does the same with the second. He eyes the whisk warily,
gingerly picking it up and looking between it and the bowl. “Harry?”

“Mm?” Harry looks from his own work, eyes landing on Louis and
then the whisk in his hand and finally the bowl.

Louis feels a blush rise on his cheeks as he sheepishly asks, “How do

you whisk?”

Harry stares at him for a second longer before he huffs a laugh,

dropping his spoon into the mixing bowl and moving over to Louis.
He comes to stand behind Louis’ back, framing him against the
counter.

His right hand covers Louis’ and his voice is right by Louis’ ear and
Louis is about to die.

“Like this,” he murmurs, lifting his and Louis’ hands to bring the
whisk into the bowl and making Louis quickly flick his wrist until the
egg yolks begin to come apart and gain some consistency with the
whites.

“Oh,” Louis answers and very nearly chokes on the word. This is
definitely more than he signed up for.

Harry lets him go when he seems satisfied Louis can do it on his own
and Louis does his best to conceal the enormous breath he lets out,
keeping his eyes and hands trained on the task at hand instead of
letting them wander to Harry.

Harry calls him over after a moment though, getting Louis to

intermittently pour in some of the egg mix and sieve the flour over
the bowl while he mixes the ingredients together. After that’s done
Harry just adds some vanilla essence and a tablespoon of milk, mixing
it one last time before they put the cake batter into the little cupcake
cases Harry has already lined the tin with. Louis is quite put out to
90
discover it’s much harder than it looks. The weight of the mixture
keeps upending the cupcake cases and making a mess of the tin.

Harry is no help, giggling into his hand every time Louis sends
another case upside down and mutters another curse word. “Stop
dropping them from a height, Lou,” he suggests in between muffled
laughs. “Move the spoon closer.”

Louis begrudgingly follows his advice and finds that it actually works.
What does Harry know, with his stupid fancy pastry chef degree?

Eventually the tray manages to make it into the oven mostly

unscathed and Harry spins around to face him with a manic grin on
his face and a piping bag in his hand. “Icing time!” he exclaims,
reaching into the cupboard for a clean bowl.

The process is slightly less complicated, Louis is happy to learn,

settling for handing over whatever ingredients Harry asks for rather
than being an active participant.

It’s getting the icing into the piping bag that proves to be the
problem. It’s messy, is the issue, made messier by Louis’ feeble
contribution, no doubt. He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it
but Harry is laughing and Louis’ fingers are covered in chocolate
buttercream icing and he just...swipes his finger across Harry’s cheek,
smearing it with icing.

Harry freezes, turning his head slowly to face Louis with a startled
gaze. “You did not just do that,” he says blankly.

“Maybe I did,” Louis responds quietly because he clearly has no self-

preservation instinct.

Harry is still a second longer before he attacks, using the spoon in his
hand to fling a dollop of icing at Louis. It devolves into all-out war
pretty quickly, with Louis ducking away and grabbing the flour before
91
hurling a fistful at Harry. Harry chases him, mixing bowl still in hand
as holds the piping bag menacingly like it’s a bloody dagger.

“Get your arse back here, Louis Tomlinson!” he cackles as Louis runs
around the kitchen table to try and thwart him, carelessly throwing
flour as he runs.

Their kitchen is small so he doesn’t get very far before Harry catches
up him, after discarding the bowl but still holding the mostly full
piping bag as a weapon. Harry grabs onto his shirt to haul him back
and prevent him from getting away and Louis cries out in protest.
They grapple a bit, both of them trying to get the upper hand while
destroying their kitchen and themselves.

And then it happens. Harry steps forward and Louis steps back, waist
hitting the counter. He grabs Harry’s arm to block him which only
pulls him closer and Harry’s other hand flails out to grab the worktop
so he can keep his balance. Suddenly there’s an inch of space between
them and their mouths are this close and Louis stops breathing.

They freeze at the same time, Harry’s eyes widening for a moment
before they seem to zero in on Louis’ lips. He’s so close Louis can
almost taste him. He wants to; he’s so fucking sick of waiting. His
throat bobs and Harry absently licks his own lips and he’s gonna do
it. He’s gonna lean in but then-

Beep.

The oven timer goes off and they both jump, startling apart as they
do. They stand, staring at each other for an agonising, tense silence
before Louis clears his throat and Harry sets down the icing bag,
turning his back on Louis to pad over to the oven. Louis sags back
against the counter and closes his eyes.

Fuck.

92
 *

It’s the last Friday of August and the day before Liam’s birthday.

He and Louis have to go back to work on Monday and Louis has

spent the last week having a war within himself about whether or not
he should talk to Harry. He knows he has to, it’s driving him insane
not to and he knows Harry is starting to notice. But he just- he wants
the moment to feel right.

Anyway, it’s not his priority tonight because they actually did throw
Liam a surprise party, complete with his favourite flavour birthday
cake courtesy of Harry.

Louis is just finishing fluffing up his hair when Harry knocks on his
open bedroom door. “Nearly ready, babe? Niall just text and said
most people are there now. Zayn’s bringing Li back soon.”

One last look in the mirror and Louis spins on his heel to face Harry,
plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He’s not really; he
feels nervous and jittery and he thinks if Harry touches him right now
he might get an electric shock from the sheer amount of tension
crackling between them but it’s fine.

“You look handsome,” Harry comments lightly, hip-checking Louis

as they make their way out of the flat.

Louis starts, hoping his intake of breath isn’t too noticeable when he
looks up at Harry. “So do you.” He really does. Skinny jeans, loud
patterned shirt and perfectly ruffled curls, Louis is quite certain he
isn’t actually real.

“Wanna walk?” he suggests when they reach their complex’s carpark.

Harry grins over at him and nods as they begin to make their way
down the street. They’re quiet as they walk but it’s not their usual
93
quiet; it’s palpable and Louis thinks he might choke on the tension if
he doesn’t speak soon.

“Do you think Liam will be surprised?” he asks benignly, keeping his
eyes forward because the thought of looking directly at Harry seems a
bit too much right now.

“Of course he will,” Harry replies. “It’s Liam; he never expects stuff
like this.”

“Too bloody good for this world,” Louis shakes his head amusedly.

“As always,” Harry sighs dramatically before he laughs and Louis can
feel him watching him. “You okay, Lou?” he asks after a moment,
voice suddenly cautious.

Louis forces himself to meet the other boy’s gaze and offers him the
most genuine smile he can muster. “Yeah. Just cold.”

He knows it’s a mistake the moment he says it because Harry’s arm is

instantly around his shoulder, pulling him into his warmth. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Louis chokes out, pretending like every nerve-ending in his

body doesn’t feel like it’s about to explode from Harry’s touch. At
least the shiver it sends down his spine will make his lie more
believable.

It doesn’t take much longer to get to Liam and Niall’s flat, thank god,
and Louis gratefully slips out from under Harry’s arm under the guise
of helping Niall finish setting up. Not that there’s anything even left
to do but still.

Minutes after they arrive Niall gets a text from Zayn saying he’s
bringing Liam up which sends everyone scrambling into terrible
hiding places that do nothing to actually conceal them since it’s still
bright out but it’s the thought that counts.
94
Which proves true enough when Liam comes through the door and
his adorable, awed puppy dog look overtakes his face the moment
they yell “surprise”.

After hugs and “Happy Birthday”s and presents are exchanged and
the party is in full swing Louis manages to slip outside to the balcony.
It’s blessedly empty when he slides the patio door shut behind him.
He braces his hands on the railing in front of him and finally manages
to take a breath. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him tonight; it’s
just- being around Harry right now is too much.

He thought he could sit on his feelings, maybe push them to the side
until he was sure Harry felt the same way but the truth is, he’ll
probably never know for definite if Harry feels the same. He’s just
going to have to take a leap of faith and trust Harry to catch him.

It sounds a lot more fucking scary than it should.

He doesn’t get much time to himself before he hears the sliding door
open. He doesn’t turn around to check who it is. He knows it’s one of
four people and he’d be willing to bet everything that it’s the one
that’s causing him all this stress in the first place.

A moment later, Harry is leaning against the railing and regarding him
with a contemplative look.

Louis doesn’t speak or turn to meet his gaze; his knuckles are white
where he’s gripping the railing, he notices absently.

“Talk to me, Lou,” Harry whispers after an indeterminable amount of

time has passed.

He casts Harry a sidelong glance, sees the sincerity in his eyes, and
looks away again. “About what?”

95
“About why you’ve been weird all week. About why you look like
you’re going to pass out every time you look at me.” Harry has a
terrible pokerface and Louis can hear the little quaver in his voice as
he finishes his sentence, the hurt he won’t admit to.

“Do you remember the night on the roof?” he asks, eyes trained on
the beginnings of the sunset in the distance.

He hears Harry’s intake of breath but he doesn’t look; he can’t.

“Yes,” Harry reveals quietly. “Is that what this is about?”

“Maybe,” he admits.

“Louis, look at me.”

He turns his head begrudgingly and sees Harry staring at him with
wide, earnest eyes. “Tell me,” he pleads, voice just above a whisper.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice quivering and on the verge of
collapsing.

Harry’s eyes are flitting all over his face, searching for something.
Whatever he finds, it makes his throat bob when he nods. “I wanted
you to kiss me.”

The breath rushes out of him. His eyes close of their own volition
and he feels like he might shake apart at any moment. Harry wanted
to kiss him. Harry actually wanted to kiss him.

He feels sick.

How is he supposed to- how can he even put into words- what does
he say?

“Louis,” Harry says, biting his lip nervously.

96
Louis nods, can’t think of a better response right now. His mind is
reeling, he needs to- he has to say it right.

Harry seems to take his silence for something else, however, and his
face drops. “Oh,” he says, an awkward uncertainty to his tone. “You
didn’t- I thought- never mind.”

Louis shakes his head confusedly, reaching out to touch but Harry
flinches back. “What- Harry, no I-“

“It’s fine,” Harry cuts him off abruptly. “You don’t need to explain.
I’m just- I’m gonna go inside.”

“Harry, let me talk-“

“Don’t, Lou,” Harry dismisses him and Louis watches in horror as he

hastily wipes a stray tear off his cheek. Before he can say anything else
Harry is darting back through the door and disappearing inside.

Louis stares after him, dumbfounded.

What the fuck just- did Harry just admit he has feelings for him?!

It takes him longer than it should to realise what just happened. Harry
told him how he felt and he thought Louis didn’t feel the same way.
He thinks Louis doesn’t love him back.

Louis has to tell him he loves him back.

He blusters back into the flat, pushing through the crowds of people
as he searches for Harry. He tries Niall and Liam’s rooms first,
knowing Harry always prefers to be alone when he’s upset but they’re
both empty. In the quiet of Liam’s bedroom he tries calling him but it
goes straight to voicemail. He must have his phone off. He looks
through the kitchen again before trying the living room.
97
Where the fuck did he go? It’s only been ten minutes, how could he
just disappear like that?

He’s circling the living room again, keeping his eyes peeled for any
glimpse of curly hair he can possibly find but he comes up empty. He
does spot Niall though. He races up to him with no regard for
whatever conversation he’s currently part of and blurts out, “Have
you seen Harry?”

Niall pauses mid-sentence to stare at him before excusing himself

from the group of people he’d been talking to. “What’s wrong?” he
asks as he pulls Louis away to a more secluded corner.

“I need to find Harry,” he answers, eyes restlessly shifting around the

room. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know, Lou, I haven’t seen him in a while,” Niall replies

apologetically. “What happened?”

He huffs, blinking back a few traitorous tears that have gathered at

the corners of his eyes. “We had a moment and then he
misunderstood what I was trying to say and I need to talk to him. I
need to tell him, Niall.”

Niall’s eyes widen at the implication. “Like tell him, tell him?”

“Yes,” Louis insists. “Do you have any idea who he could be with?”

“Last person I saw him with was you, Tommo,” Niall tells him, biting
his lip as he thinks. “Did you try calling him?”

“No answer,” Louis mutters dejectedly.

“He’s gone home.”

98
Louis whips around to find Zayn standing behind him, sympathetic
expression on his face. “He seemed pretty upset when I ran into
him.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Louis groans, burying his hands in his hair and closing
his eyes as he takes a deep breath. “Are you sure he’s at home?” he
implores, opening his eyes again to meet Zayn’s gaze.

“It’s where he said he was going,” Zayn assures him. “Lou, go.”

“Right,” he nods, inhaling another shaking breath before Niall’s hand

lands on his shoulder and squeezes. “Right. Okay. I’m going.”

“Don’t come back until you’re in love!” Niall calls after him as he
hurries out of the room. Louis can’t even be bothered to turn back
around while he gives him the finger. He has more important things
on his mind.

One look at the traffic when he reaches the footpath has him
deciding to run home. It’s not ideal but if he got in a cab right now
he’d be sitting in it for at least twenty minutes longer than necessary
and he needs to talk to Harry now.

So he runs.

Even when he gets a cramp in his side and his lungs are burning,
screaming at him to stop, he doesn’t. He keeps going because he’s
waited too fucking long to tell Harry the truth and for better or
worse, he’s going to tell him how he feels tonight.

He doesn’t wait for the elevator when he reaches their building, just
races up the three flights of stairs and hopes he doesn’t brain himself
by tripping.

The door to their flat is mercifully unlocked when he tries it – he

doesn’t even know if he brought his keys with him tonight and he
99
can’t imagine Harry opening the door to him right now. He bursts
through the door with less grace than he’d like but he doesn’t worry
about that now.

Harry walks out of the kitchen at the noise of the door banging
closed and immediately freezes where he’s stood. His eyes are red
rimmed like he’s been crying and his mouth is parted like he wants to
say something but he doesn’t know what.

There’s a single moment, the moment between the inhale and the
exhale, where they stand still and stare at each other.

But then Louis takes a breath and starts forward, striding purposefully
towards Harry and closing the distance between them. Harry seems
frozen in place but Louis sees it, the moment that he gets it, that he
finally understands.

It’s the last thing he sees before he cups Harry’s jaw and crushes their
lips together.

Harry responds immediately, mouth moving against Louis’ as he

clutches Louis’ jacket. It’s desperate, Louis can feel it, the way both of
them keep pushing closer as if there’s any space left between them in
the first place, the insistence of Harry’s mouth against his own, how
tightly they’re holding on.

He pulls away when his lungs begin to burn because he needs to tell
him, he needs to know. Harry’s lips chase his own as their foreheads
rolls together and Louis blurts it out.

“I love you,” he breathes and Harry suddenly stops trying to claim his
mouth again. Louis opens his eyes and Harry opens his and they’re
too close, Louis can’t look at him properly but he tries.

“I’m in love with you,” he clarifies, thumb tracing over Harry’s cheek
as he waits for his reaction.
100
“I-“ Harry starts, hands clenching where he still has Louis’ jacket
bunched up in them. “Since when?” he gasps in disbelief.

“Always?” Louis laughs because it’s ridiculous but it’s true, he realises
now. “Six weeks ago? Seven years ago? I don’t know, H. But I love
you, I do.”

Harry appears to be stunned to silence, mouth opening and closing as

he tries to come up with an answer. But then his hands are sliding
around Louis’ waist and he’s brushing their noses together and he’s
whispering an emotional, “I love you too,” into the space between
their mouths before closing the gap altogether.

He kisses him. And then time stops.

It’s six and eight and scraped knees and sticky fingers. It’s nine and
eleven and clumsy lyrics and out of tune piano notes. It’s fifteen and
seventeen and nervous confessions and hands held tight. It’s sixteen
and eighteen and soft lips and tear-tracked cheeks. It’s eighteen and
twenty and a flat with a heating that doesn’t work.

It’s twenty-three and twenty-five finally getting it right.

Louis slides an arm around Harry’s neck, reeling him in closer while
his other hand curls in his hair to hold him in place. Harry’s hands are
roaming all over his back and he keeps making these soft little noise
into Louis’ mouth and Louis is in heaven. This is more than he
could’ve imagined - the pounding of his heart, the plush give of
Harry’s lips when he bites down, it’s fucking everything.

“Should we,” Harry gasps as he detaches their lips but it doesn’t last
long when Louis is immediately following the trail of his mouth.
“Should we talk?” he gets out eventually, not actually giving Louis a
chance to answer since he goes right back to kissing him.

101
“Mm later,” Louis mumbles into his mouth, taking a step forward and
urging Harry back.

“Later works,” Harry replies airily, stumbling blindly backwards as

Louis follows. Louis just laughs into Harry’s mouth and pulls away,
forcibly turning him around so he can see where he’s going. He settles
for attaching himself to Harry’s back and kissing along the side of his
neck as they trip their way towards Louis’ room.

“You know you doing that isn’t conducive to me walking with more
coordination,” Harry says conversationally, or well he tries to, his
voice sounds about twelve octaves deeper and his throat catches
towards the end of his sentence. Louis just smiles against his neck and
keeps them moving forward.

“Just a few more steps, love,” he murmurs, guiding Harry to his

bedroom door.

As soon as they’re through the threshold Harry turns in his arms and
reattaches their mouths, fingers sliding into Louis’ hair as they move
deeper into the room. Louis’ hands slip under Harry’s shirt and he
can’t help but jolt a little when he first touches him. He lets his hands
skim over Harry’s waist, flitting over the soft skin of his hips before
sliding them up his back.

Harry shivers in his arms and Louis can feel his own lips quirking up
at the reaction. That smug feeling doesn’t last very long when Harry
retaliates by pushing Louis’ jacket off his shoulders and makes quick
work of the buttons on his shirt. Louis slides his hands out from
under Harry’s shirt to help shrug them off, dropping them carelessly
on the floor only for Harry to huff out a teasing laugh and mutter,
“So messy,” as he starts kissing Louis’ jaw.

Louis scoffs, reluctantly pulling away from Harry’s tempting mouth to

regard him with a look. “Haz, do you want me to clean or do you
want me to take off your shirt?”
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Harry stills and Louis can actually see the moment his pupils dilate,
fuck. He leans forward until their noses are brushing but he doesn’t
close the distance, no, instead his mischievous eyes catch Louis’ and
he smiles, their mouths painfully close, before whispering, “I think I
want you to take off my shirt.” He surges forward then, capturing
Louis’ lips in a heated kiss and all Louis can do is kiss back, hands
pulling insistently at Harry’s shirt.

Harry lets go of him long enough to raise his arms and toss the shirt
off but as soon as it’s out of the way he’s back on Louis again,
manoeuvring them towards the bed until the backs of his knees hit
the mattress and he sits down.

Louis climbs into his lap immediately, straddling his hips and diving
in for another kiss. He cups Harry’s jaw, uses his hold to keep him in
place and guide him in whatever direction he wants; Harry’s
whimpering against his mouth, hands clenching Louis’ hips so hard
he’s probably going to leave bruises. The thought sends a thrill up
Louis’ spine and he deepens the kiss, gently pressing against Harry
until he gets the hint and lies back.

It takes a bit of shuffling but soon Harry is lying with his head resting
on the pillows, Louis lying comfortably in the space between his hips.
They slow down a bit then, some of the urgency bleeding out of
Louis as he gets lost in the feel of Harry’s lips against his own. He’s
kissing Harry - he’s finally fucking kissing him – he needs a moment
to take it in, to learn how Harry loves to be kissed. What makes him
sigh, what makes him chase Louis’ mouth for more, what makes him
moan. He wants to know it all.

Still, he can’t ignore the hardness in his jeans or the way Harry is
shifting restlessly underneath him. He pulls away with a slow lingering
drag and the way Harry’s eyes flutter out of focus before finding
Louis’ again makes him smirk. His lips feel swollen and tingly and if

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they look half as bad as Harry’s right now, he must look fucking
obscene.

Harry’s chest is heaving as he stares trustingly up at Louis and Louis

knows he has to make this special. It may not be either of their first
times but it’s still probably going to be the most overwhelming
moment of their lives.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, leaning in for one more kiss
to Harry’s mouth before travelling down his body.

He kisses Harry’s neck, his collarbones, his chest, his tummy,

anywhere he can reach, committing the feel of Harry’s skin under his
mouth to memory. It leaves Harry quivering beneath him, breathy
sighs of, “Lou,” exhaling out of him with every kiss until Louis
reaches his jeans.

He pops the button easily, pausing a minute to flick his gaze back up
to Harry. He’s watching him, teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he
rakes a hand through his hair and Louis gets the most overwhelming
sense of déjà vu to Harry’s eighteenth birthday when they were in a
very similar position. Unlike that time Louis actually gives into what
he’s craving to do and presses a lingering kiss to Harry’s lower
stomach before working him out of his jeans.

Harry helps as best he can, lifting his hips off the bed while Louis
peels his jeans down his legs. He pulls them off along with Harry’s
boots and socks and suddenly his got an almost-naked Harry on his
bed and his brain short-circuits a little.

He’s breath-taking, with the flush on his cheekbones and his hair
spilling out against the pillow, his abs contracting as he tries not
squirm and the very noticeable bulge in his tight briefs, he’s better
than anything Louis could’ve ever imagined.

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He rids himself of his own trousers and shoes quickly, crawling back
onto the bed and draping himself over Harry’s body. They both jump
at the skin to skin contact, at the heat that sears their chests together
and Louis has to kiss him again. It’s been thirty seconds; that’s too
long.

“Never wanna stop kissing you,” he says, the words lost to Harry’s
lips.

Harry pulls away for a moment, stilling Louis with a hand on his jaw.
“Then don’t,” he murmurs, guiding Louis back down to meet his
mouth again.

His stomach flutters at the thought. Kissing Harry for the rest of his
life, it doesn’t sound half-bad.

Their hands roam over one another’s bodies and Louis can’t help the
slow swivel of his hips as he grinds down against Harry. Harry arches
to meet him, mouth slackening with the pressure the friction creates.
Continuing in his ministrations, Louis stretches an arm out, fumbling
with the drawer in his nightstand until his hand makes contact with
his bottle of lube. He drops it on the mattress beside them, hand
darting back into the drawer to grab a condom before he returns his
full attention to Harry.

He disconnects their lips in favour of pressing their foreheads

together instead. Feeling Harry’s hot breath fan out over his face is
heady and overwhelming and he takes a moment to collect himself.
“What do you want, love?” he asks gently, brushing his thumb over
Harry’s bottom lip

Harry is quiet a moment, hips still absently moving against Louis’ as

he thinks. He takes a breath, flicking his eyes up to meet Louis’ even
though the closeness makes it hard to focus, and he simply whispers,
“You.”

105
Louis’ breath hitches and he moves.

He can’t explain it other than to say time seems to speed up and slow
down at the same time.

It’s a blur – sliding Harry’s briefs off tantalising slowly and listening to
the soft noise he makes in the back of his throat, drawing his leg up
and pressing tender kisses to the inside of his thigh until Harry is
quivering, mouthing at his cock and working him open carefully with
one, two, three fingers that leaves Harry breathless.

When he finally pushes in his vision whites out and he needs a

moment to get over the overwhelming heat, to get over the
overwhelming emotions swirling around inside him. He keeps his
forehead pressed to Harry’s as he takes a moment to get used to the
sensation, the room silent except for their laboured breathing. Blindly,
he reaches a hand out and laces it with Harry’s, feeling his legs shake
when Harry responds by squeezing his fingers and mumbling out a
slurred, “Love you.”

He whispers his own, “Love you too,” into Harry’s jaw and then he
finally begins to move. It’s unlike anything else he’s ever experienced;
his chest feels cracked open and his heart is beating so loudly he’s
sure Harry can hear it. There are sparks under his fingertips, little jolts
of pleasure everywhere Harry’s touching him. He thinks if he didn’t
have Harry holding onto him, anchoring him, that he might fly apart.

It’s never felt like this before.

Louis’ had sex with his fair share of people and he’s always generally
enjoyed it, even been enthusiastic about it, but this? This is more than
he’s ever experienced. It reminds him a little of the first time they
kissed. The way it had felt so different to the way he’d kissed people
before. The way his heart beat faster and his palms felt sweaty and
there was a feeling pounding inside him, making his throat feel tight

106
and insistently pushing at the inside of his stomach, telling him this is
important.

It’s like that but only even more heightened. Every nerve-ending
firing inside his body right now is telling him this is the only thing
that matters, being with Harry is the only thing that matters, it’s
everything.

His thrusts become less calculated, more erratic, as they both tumble
towards the edge. Harry’s making noises right by his ear, reaching out
to kiss Louis whenever he can muster up the energy to do it. He’s
getting close, Louis can tell, so he redoubles his efforts and works on
hitting the spot inside Harry that makes his body go taut and his
hands grapple at Louis’ back. He brings a hand down to circle Harry’s
cock, searing their lips together as he does and he knows it’s too
much for Harry, too many duelling sensations at once. His mouth
goes slack against Louis’, a moan escaping him that Louis swallows
down hungrily and he comes.

It doesn’t take Louis long to follow after him, he buries his face in
Harry’s neck, presses their bodies close together so there’s hardly an
inch of space between them and chases his release. It’s Harry curling
a hand in his hair and murmuring, “Come on, Lou,” that ultimately
pushes him over the edge.

The tension drains out of his body and he collapses on top of Harry,
feeling the breath rush out of him as he seeks out Harry’s hand again.
Harry obligingly links their fingers and kisses his hair. It’s a minute or
so before he remembers to pull out, wincing slightly at the sensation
and picking his head up to meet Harry’s gaze.

His eyes are heavy-lidded like they’re about to droop shut at any
minute but his smile is soft and sated. Louis finds himself grinning
back and leaning down to connect their lips. “Rock, paper, scissors
who needs to go to the bathroom to clean us up?” he suggests half-
heartedly, mouth tugging up in a smile when Harry laughs.
107
“Well I can’t go anywhere until you get off me so really it should be
you,” Harry tells him, using his bright eyes and adorable dimple to
weaken Louis’ defences and that’s just not fair.

He heaves a long-suffering sigh and reluctantly peels himself off

Harry to stumble out to the bathroom. He discards the condom,
wiping himself down and rinsing another cloth under the warm water
to bring back to Harry.

He’s still in the same place where Louis left him, sprawled across the
mess of Louis’ sheets, dozing lightly as Louis pads back to the bed.
He cleans Harry up – who doesn’t so much as stir from the action -
before dropping the cloth on his bedside table. He climbs in then,
draping himself over Harry and tangling their limbs together. Harry
accommodates him, arms slipping easily around Louis.

He uses Harry’s chest as a pillow, fingers tapping out a rhythm in

time with Harry’s heartbeat on his bare skin. And it’s the most settled
Louis’ felt in weeks; Harry’s chest is rising and falling steadily beneath
his ear and his fingers are trailing down Louis’ back and the sun is
slowly beginning to set outside the window and Louis just feels
completely, utterly happy.

“I kinda feel bad for leaving Liam’s party early,” Harry murmurs
faintly and Louis laughs, muffling the sound against Harry’s chest.

“’m sure us finally getting our act together will be gift enough to
him,” he replies amusedly. “D’you know he told me he thought we
were lying back in uni when we would tell him we weren’t together?”

Harry chuckles, free hand catching Louis’ own. “Suppose he saw it

before we did.”

108
“I think that’s true for most people who know us,” Louis points out,
making Harry burst into a fit of giggles that only causes Louis’ heart
to swell inside his chest.

He tips Louis’ chin up with his finger so they can meet each other’s
gaze and Louis finds himself overwhelmed at the look of total
adoration on Harry’s face. “We were pretty stupid for a long time,
weren’t we?”

Louis shrugs, mouth curling up in a grin. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah,

we probably would’ve saved ourselves and everyone else a lot of grief
if we’d figured it out earlier,” he concedes. “But I wouldn’t trade our
friendship or the experiences we had together for the world, H.”

Harry’s smiling affectionately at him by the time he’s finished

speaking, thumb tracing patterns on Louis’ arm. “Me either,” he
answers quietly, pulling Louis down for a chaste kiss.

They spend a lot of the night talking – talking about how long they’ve
had feelings for each other and how long they’ve known, when their
friendship began to turn into something more, about the
embarrassing realisation that they’ve basically been dating for years
just without the physical side of it, about what they want from a
relationship with one another. (Answer: everything).

They doze here and there in between too many kisses and maybe
more than kisses – the lube is right there and Harry is also right there,
Louis is just a man, what’s he supposed to do?

By the time the sun is filtering back in through the window sometime
after five a.m. Louis has come to the conclusion that he’s never felt
more sure of anything in his life than he has of Harry. Their positions
have altered some; they’re both lying on their sides now, facing each
other. Their legs are tangled under the mess of blankets and they’re
both sharing the one pillow, noses brushing every so often as Harry
plays with their joined hands between them. And as Louis looks at
109
him, he knows this moment right here, this is the most in love he’s
ever been.

The words are out before he can stop himself, before he even realises
what he’s saying. “I’m gonna marry you one day,” he mumbles and
Harry stills, gaze leaving their hands to meet Louis’ with a surprised
expression.

But then his face is slipping into something lighter, something private
and tender as he pulls their linked fingers closer to his own chest. He
holds Louis’ gaze steady in his own and his dimples sink into his
cheeks and he quips, “I dare you.”

Louis barks out a laugh, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “Harry

Styles, did you just dare me to marry you?”

Harry doesn’t laugh though, he grins but he doesn’t laugh. In fact, he

looks completely sincere as he says, “Yeah, I did.”

Louis’ suddenly not laughing anymore because it’s really fucking

starting to sound like Harry just proposed to him. “Are you being
serious?”

Harry nods silently, watching and waiting for his reaction.

“Harry, we can’t, that’s- we just got together,“ he objects

automatically because that’s what he should say but he finds himself
not really believing it even as he’s speaking.

“Lou, you said it yourself,” Harry cuts in. “We’ve basically been in a
relationship this whole time without even realising it. We’ve been a
part of each other’s lives for twenty years, and loved each other just as
long in no matter what sense of the word you want to use. I don’t
wanna wait any longer.”

“But we-“ he protests feebly. “That’s so reckless, Haz.”

110
“You just said you wanted to marry me,” Harry points out, lips
involuntarily quirking up when he says the word “marry”.

“And I do,” Louis rushes to assure him because fuck, it was always
gonna be Harry, wasn’t it? Deep down he’s always known. “But like-
what if we don’t work out?”

“Then we get a divorce,” he responds blithely, rolling his eyes. “But

Lou, that thought is as farfetched in my mind as the thought of
growing old with anyone but you. We’ve lived together for five years;
we know everything there is to know about each other. We trust each
other with our lives. People always spend the relationship part getting
ready for marriage, for the extra commitment to make sure you’re
compatible and can stand to be around each other twenty-four-seven
but we’ve already done all that. We know, Lou.”

Louis is stunned because everything Harry is saying makes sense and

this is quite possibly the stupidest thing they have ever contemplated
doing together but the thought of it…It makes Louis scared but it’s
the good kind of scared, the excited kind. Fuck, he could call Harry
his husband. He really wants to be able to call Harry his husband.

“Do you want to marry me?” Harry asks quietly.

Louis looks at him, really looks at him, for any sign of uncertainty or
doubt but he can’t find any. So he nods, squeezes Harry’s hands
where they’re still held in his own and says, “Yes.”

Harry’s face breaks out into a hundred watt smile and he leans
forward to kiss Louis. “Good,” he mumbles, “I wanna marry you
too.”

Louis laughs, the sound muffled by Harry’s mouth, and he just feels
so- he feels on top of the fucking world and he can’t believe any of
this is real. He slips his hands out of Harry’s, sliding one around the
111
back of Harry’s neck to pull him in and kiss him properly and he’s
just- he’s ready.

They’re it for each other. He knows it.

He pulls away after a moment, meeting Harry’s starry-eyed gaze and

saying the most surreal sentence he’s probably ever uttered in his
entire life. “Let’s go get married.”

They shower together which really only slows them down rather than
speeding things up. He keeps getting distracted by pushing Harry
against the wall to kiss him a little – a lot – and by the slick slide of
their hands over one another’s bodies.

Eventually though, they do get their hair washed and all the sweat and
come scrubbed off their bodies, tumbling out of the shower with
flushed faces and bright smiles.

They get ready in their own rooms and Louis is actually glad for the
space, relieved to have a second to think outside the haze of Harry to
make sure they’re doing the right thing but by the time he’s dressed
and his hair is dry he only feels more certain than he had before.

He wants this. He probably always has.

Harry cooks them breakfast, singing along to the radio while Louis
sits on the counter and taste tests. And he can’t get over how not
different this feels. It could be any other morning except now he can
lean in and kiss Harry if he feels like it. It’s the same as it was before
but it’s also better.

They eat with their ankles linked under the table, trying to hold a
casual conversation and failing miserably when they both keep
breaking down into giggles every time they make eye contact.
112
It’s 8:30 when they’re piling into Louis’ car with all the paperwork and
IDs the website said they need and making the short drive to Barnet’s
Registry Office. They have a brief moment while they sit in the
carpark to get their bearings and Louis has to make sure one more
time. “Are you sure?” he asks Harry, levelling him with a serious look.

“Of you? Always,” Harry responds quietly, brushing their mouths

together and pulling back with a smile. Louis returns it, feeling jittery
as he spots the time on the clock.

Butterflies erupt in his tummy as they make their way inside when the
doors open at nine.

The woman at the desk eyes them dubiously when Harry blurts out,
“We’re here to get married!” but Louis can see her holding back a
smile. She goes through the forms they need to fill out and directs
them to a waiting area, telling them it’ll be a while until they can be
seen since there’s another ceremony taking place before them and
they never made an appointment.

Louis nods, smiling politely – feeling a little bit like a chastised child at
the lack of appointment comment - while Harry thanks her profusely
and then they make their way to the waiting area.

They spend a few minutes in silence, reading through the forms and
filling out the necessary information. They find each other’s gaze
when they’re done and Louis feels the same giddiness that’s been
sitting in his chest all morning bubble to the surface again. They make
eye contact and he can’t help but let out a laugh, Harry joining him as
he shakes his head.

“Are we really doing this?” Harry asks quietly, grin impossibly wide.

113
“I think we are,” Louis whispers back in disbelief, quickly leaning in
to peck Harry’s mouth before they go back to the front desk to
submit their paperwork.

After that it’s just a lot of waiting around for the registrar to be
finished with the other ceremony. They sit in the uncomfortable
plastic chairs in the waiting area, Louis’ head on Harry’s shoulder, and
he can feel the exhaustion creeping up on him a little bit. Lack of
sleep and the emotional upheaval that the last twelve hours have been
is finally taking its toll, it seems.

He’s resting his eyes while they wait, only opening them again when
he feels Harry’s shoulder shift under him. Noticing Harry on his
phone, he forces himself to open his eyes properly. “What are you
doing?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Looking up flights for our honeymoon,” Harry says and that wakes
Louis up. He picks his head up off Harry’s shoulder and sits up
straight, regarding him with an incredulous look.

“Spain or France?” Harry asks, not seeming to notice Louis’ reaction,

eyes still on his phone.

“Haz, I go back to work on Monday,” he protests confusedly. God,

he could do with a few days in Spain though. “You have the
restaurant.”

Harry finally looks at him, lips quirking as he shrugs his shoulders.

“We can call in sick. Come on, Lou, pleeease.”

Louis’ already weakened resolve completely dissolves when faced with

Harry’s pouty face – pure evil, he is. He sighs, pulling Harry into his
side - who moves with him happily. “Let’s go to Spain,” he murmurs
against Harry’s temple. “You always wanted to go to Barcelona.”

*
114
It’s about an hour later before they’re called and the almost calm
bubble they’d slipped into immediately bursts.

Suddenly everything is happening in fast-forward.

They’re ushered into another room, two witnesses from the Registry
Office are standing at the end of the room with the registrar and
Louis feels like his heart is beating in time with his footsteps as he
walks down the centre aisle with Harry’s hand in his.

And he knows it should feel impersonal, knows it should feel rushed

and ridiculous but as soon as he looks at Harry he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because this beautiful, enchanting boy loves him back
and he finally gets to say it out loud. They stand there, hands
intertwined as they try to hold back their nervous giggles and half-
listen to the registrar, and Louis knows. He knows Harry’s eyes are
the only ones he wants to look into for the rest of his life. He knows
Harry’s hands are the only ones he ever wants to hold.

Yeah, it’s rushed and stupid but it’s also been a long time coming. So
he doesn’t feel scared when they’re asked if they have vows they’d like
to recite because well- he’s been telling Harry he loves him for twenty
years, he’s gotten pretty good at it by now.

“Harry,” he murmurs, voices laced with affection, and he feels his

expression soften at the way Harry’s grin becomes brighter. “I’m- I
just really love you,” he blurts and Harry barks out a laugh, eyes
suddenly shining when he meets Louis’ gaze.

“I do,” Louis chuckles softly. “I always have. I literally can’t

remember a point in my life where I didn’t love you. You’re my
constant. For as long as I can remember, it’s always been me and you
against the world. And as far as I’m concerned, husbands is just the
natural step up from partners in crime.”
115
Harry laughs again, the sound distinctively thick like it’s caught in his
throat.

“This is absolutely insane but lord knows, I’d follow you to the end of
the earth, no questions asked. So, I suppose what I really want to say
to you right now – what I want to promise you – is that I’m gonna
love your forever, okay? No matter what. Even if you don’t let me.
Because loving you is as easy as breathing and it’s the only thing I’ve
always been good at.” He pauses, his throat starting to feel a bit
scratchy with tears as he offers Harry a watery smile. “So my heart’s
yours, if you want it.”

Harry’s breath hitches and he’s clutching Louis’ hands so tightly he’s
cutting off the circulation but Louis doesn’t mind. He can’t, not with
the way Harry’s fervently nodding his head like assuring Louis is the
most important thing in the world.

The registrar gestures for Harry to speak and he blows out a shaky
breath, making Louis’ mouth tug up in a small smile.

“Louis,” he says quietly, wearing the same look of wide-eyed wonder

he’s worn since he was four. “I don’t really know if I believe in
soulmates or love at first sight or any of that…but I believe in you. I
believe in us. I always have. And I think if soulmates did exist, you’d
be mine.”

Harry takes a second to collect himself then and Louis swallows hard,
eyes burning with the threat of tears. “You’re just- you’re my
favourite person and there hasn’t been a single day since we met
where I haven’t loved you with all my heart. And I don’t intend for
there to be. So, I want to promise you the same thing you promised
me. I’ll love you for as long as forever lasts and I promise to never let
you forget it. But most of all, I promise to make sure every day feels
like today.”

116
Louis has tears streaming down his face but he pays them no mind,
just mouths a quick, “Love you,” that Harry has just enough time to
return before the registrar starts speaking again.

Everything that happens after that blurs together. They don’t have
rings so they only have to answer the registrar’s questions with, “I
do,” sign the papers and seal it with a kiss. (Louis has lost count of
how many times they’ve kissed in the past twelve hours but he’s
certain he’ll never get sick of it.)

And that’s it; they’re married.

Holy fuck, they’re married.

He married Harry.

(He has a vague memory of himself at eight at some family gathering

where his relatives had officially decided he was old enough to tease
him about girls and his own response being an unaffected shrug while
he announced, “I’m gonna marry Harry ‘cause it rhymes.”)

They stumble out to the car hand in hand, elated, disbelieving grins
on their faces, and Louis can’t even make it inside the car before he
has to kiss Harry again. He presses him up against the door, locking
their lips together and it’s really more of a meeting of teeth than
anything because they’re both smiling too much but it’s perfect.

It’s a few more minutes before they’re finally settled in their seats
again and their gazes meet over the console.

“Alright then, husband,” Louis says, feeling his grin deepen at the
word. “Take me on my honeymoon.”

117
It isn’t until they’re sitting in the airport hours later, waiting for their
flight to be called, that Louis remembers his neglected phone.
“Should we like, call someone?”

Harry sits up from where he’d been resting his head on Louis’
shoulder and regards him with a contemplative look that turns
sheepish almost immediately. “I’ve had my phone on silent since this
morning,” he admits. “And I haven’t checked my messages yet.”

Louis hasn’t either, too caught up in the whirlwind of the last sixteen
hours. Slipping it out of his pocket, he finds a string of text messages
and missed calls from the lads adorning his screen. “Do you wanna
tell them everything?” he asks, looking from Harry to his phone
again.

Harry is silent a moment as he thinks, absently jiggling his foot and

turning his own phone over in his hands. “How about…we text them
to let them know where we are and promise to explain everything
later?”

“You know it won’t be that simple; they’re not gonna leave us alone,”
Louis reasons.

“Well, let’s turn off our phones then,” Harry shrugs. “Not like we’ll
need them when we’ll be with each other the whole time.”

The words send a thrill down Louis’ spine - six whole days with
nothing but Harry and the sun for company, if he closes his eyes he
can almost see the clear blue skies already. “Okay,” he agrees, opting
to open their group chat rather than texting each of them back
individually.

“Gone away with H for a few days,” he types. “Everything’s fine !!

Will explain when we get back.”

118
Niall, predictably, is the first person to text back with a string of
incoherent emojis that Louis thinks means he’s happy for them.

Liam comes in next with a, “Have fun!” and a very unsubtle row of
winky face emojis.

Zayn simply replies with a, “Happy for you, see you soon xx.”

Harry texts them back every heart emoji he can find before locking
his phone and grinning at Louis. “That was easy!” he announces
happily.

“Just wait ‘til we get home,” Louis snorts. “Niall’s definitely gonna
interrogate us.”

“At least we’ve got six days to get our story straight,” Harry laughs,
slouching down in his chair again and resuming his earlier position
with his head on Louis’ shoulder.

It’s only a few minutes longer before they’re being called to board and
Louis stands up, pulling Harry with him before slinging his duffle bag
over his shoulder. Harry grabs his own bag and hauls it onto his
shoulder, allowing Louis to tug him in the direction of the line
forming at the gate desk.

It’s a tedious forty-five minutes of waiting in line, flashing their

passports and scanning their boarding passes before slowly shuffling
along with the rest of the last-minute holiday-ers until they reach the
landing strip. Louis is almost thankful to be sitting in the
uncomfortable, cramped Ryanair chair at the end of it.

Harry has the window seat and he’s idly looking out the small opening
as they begin to take off. Louis is shifting, trying in vain to get
comfortable – he hates the middle seat, he’s definitely making Harry
switch when they turn the seatbelt sign off. The person in the aisle
seat seems to be travelling alone and thankfully doesn’t take up much
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room, keeping herself to herself and not hogging the arm rest like
Louis had feared. He’d rather not start his honeymoon off with a
fight with his row-mate.

It’s a few more minutes of restlessly squirming in his seat before

Harry rolls his head against the head rest to look at him. “What’s the
first thing you wanna do in Barcelona?” he asks, reaching out for
Louis’ hand and running soothing circles over his skin.

That one little touch shouldn’t make Louis melt but it does. He sinks
back into his chair and leans closer to Harry, a smile playing on his
lips. “’m gonna get you a wedding ring,” he tells him.

Harry’s mouth curves up softly and he laces their fingers together. “I

like that idea,” he whispers, drawing their linked hands up to his
mouth and kissing Louis’ knuckles. And fuck, it’s only been a matter
of hours but he can’t believe how seamless this feels? How easily they
slipped into these roles of boyfriends – husbands – like it had always
been this way. It’s simultaneously the most settling and unsettling
feeling in the world.

As soon as the fasten seatbelt light goes off Harry unclips Louis’, lifts
the armrest between them and pulls Louis into his arms. Louis lets
out a sigh, sinking into Harry’s warmth and tucking his feet up on the
chair underneath him. They spend most of the flight like that,
catching up on some much needed sleep. Louis doesn’t stir until the
woman on his right is gently shaking him awake to say they’re landing
soon and that he should probably put back on his seatbelt.

He thanks her tiredly, sitting up straight and popping his back as he

stretches – Harry is comfy but the position is still awkward when
they’re in such a cramped up space. Harry wakes when Louis moves
out of his arms, eyes fluttering as they search for Louis confusedly.

“We’re about to land, love,” he murmurs, leaning back in to kiss

Harry’s sleep-lax mouth.
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Harry only hums, eyes drifting shut again as he settles a hand on
Louis’ thigh; he doesn’t wake again until the plane jolts as it hits the
ground beneath them. Louis kisses his shoulder when he jumps,
whispering that they’re here and nodding for Harry to look out the
window. All they can see is cloudless blue sky and when the pilot
announces over the intercom that it’s a sunny twenty-nine degrees
Louis almost cries at the thought.

The taxi drive to their hotel takes about half an hour and Louis
spends the majority of it looking out the open window and relishing
in the warm breeze with Harry’s hand clasped in his, resting on his
thigh. The hotel they’d picked when they’d done a quick google
search upon returning to the flat this morning was nice, central and a
short walk to the beach and the strip but also equipped with its own
pool, bar and restaurant if they didn’t feel like exploring - which they
probably wouldn’t today. It’s just after five by the time they arrive and
between the last minute travelling, the poor excuse for a nap on the
plane and the lack of sleep last night, Louis wants nothing more than
to crash.

They dump their bags in a corner of the room once they’ve checked
in and made their way to their suite and Louis immediately face-plants
into the queen-size bed, burying his face in one of the fluffy white
pillows.

Harry makes a vague noise of disapproval somewhere behind him.

“You messed up the towel swans,” he chastises.

Louis cranes his neck just enough to see Harry lifting one of the
towels – that had evidently been folded into a swan – off the bed and
setting it on the nearby chair. “I’m sure the towel swan will forgive
me,” he mutters, dropping his head back onto the pillow and closing
his eyes.

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He can hear Harry moving around the end of the bed and a moment
later Harry’s hands are on his ankles, slipping Louis’ vans off his feet.
After Harry seems to have kicked his own shoes off as well Louis
feels a dip in the bed as Harry settles beside him.

Louis cracks an eye open and meets Harry’s gaze, watching the slow
smile that spreads across his face.

“We’re married,” Harry says quietly, voice tinged with awe, and really,
it’s the first time all day that they’ve gotten a chance to take it all in.
They fucking got married this morning. And now they’re on their
honeymoon.

If you’d have told Louis any of this yesterday morning he would’ve

laughed in your face but now he’s in Barcelona and he’s with Harry
and he just feels so unbelievably, completely happy.

“We’re married,” he agrees, lips involuntarily curling up in a grin that

he hides in the pillow beneath his cheek.

Harry moves closer, draping an arm over Louis’ back to pull him
closer. “How does a power nap and a late dinner sound, husband?”

Louis smirks, burrowing into Harry’s inviting warmth and already

feeling sleep beginning to pull at his limbs. “Sounds like a plan, love.”

“Noo, Lou, you’re supposed to call me husband too,” Harry

complains - the whiny kind of complaining he uses when he’s close to
sleep.

Louis snorts, leaning closer to brush a kiss over Harry’s jaw. “Sorry,
husband,” he whispers obligingly.

“S’okay,” Harry mumbles. “Y’r forgiven.”

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Louis hums and has enough presence of mind to grab the throw
blanket at the end of the bed to pull over them. With that, he sleeps.

They wake up just before 8pm, taking turns in the shower and
changing out of their sweaty travel clothes into something more
evening appropriate. The sun’s still out and the breeze is still warm
when they step out of the hotel so they decide to find somewhere
along the strip for dinner.

They walk hand in hand along the beach front, idly stopping at a
restaurant here and there to read the menu before eventually settling
on a little bistro, tucked away in the corner of the square at the end of
the strip, away from the crowds of tourists swarming to the larger
restaurants.

They sit outside under a large canopy protecting their table and idly
sip at their sangria while they wait for their food. Dinner is spent
making idle conversation and observing the hustle and bustle around
them, watching parents trying to wrangle kids into staying still in their
chairs, watching waiters weave effortlessly between tables with trays
of food, watching couples –young and old – stroll along the beach
hand in hand. It feels like a different life, feels like it’s been months
since Liam’s birthday even though it was only last night. Louis feels
more relaxed than he has all year and he thinks he could probably stay
here forever as long as Harry was sitting on the other side of the
table.

It takes Harry a few minutes to realise Louis is watching him instead

of eating his food but he eventually looks up, his eyebrows quirking
adorably in confusion. “What?”

Louis shakes his head, feeling a smile creep onto his features again.
“Just happy,” he shrugs.

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That pulls Harry up short and he starts a moment before setting
down his fork, reaching across the table to grab Louis’ hand. Louis
turns his hand over, allowing their fingers to fold together, and feels
his heart beat a little harder when Harry traces the back of his hand
with his thumb. “’m always happiest when I’m with you.” Harry
murmurs it like a confession and Louis pulls their clasped hands to
his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of Harry’s hand.

They don’t speak much for another few minutes, just continue with
their meal, but Louis can feel the lightness surrounding them, the little
bubble of fulfilment and contentment nestled around their table.

He never wants it to end.

They wander around a few of the souvenir shops while they try to
walk off their dinner – though most of them are beginning to close by
the time they leave the restaurant – before eventually choosing to
spend the rest of the night in one of the many pubs dotted around the
square. They maybe have one too many cocktails given the dinner
they’d just had was basically the first substantial meal they’d eaten all
day but it’s their honeymoon - they’re allowed to get drunk if they
want to. They opt to sit outside again, snagging a small table with two
wicker chairs covered with worn cushions.

They talk about this and that, commenting on the goings on around
them and what they plan to do for the next few days. Harry takes out
his camera at some point – since their phones are still off – and starts
snapping pictures of the square and their drinks and Louis until Louis
eventually protests and moves into Harry’s lap, slinging an arm
around Harry’s neck so they can take a picture together. One picture
turns into ten – most of which, Louis thinks, are Harry kissing and
giggling into his neck but he certainly isn’t complaining.

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He returns to his own chair eventually because they’re in public and
he will not be held responsible for what he does if he stays in Harry’s
lap any longer. Harry smirks at him like he knows.

Harry’s lips are even more red than usual from the daiquiri he’s been
drinking and he’s got a little umbrella tucked behind his ear and his
eyes are sparkling and Louis can’t believe he gets to call him his.

He scoots his chair closer to Harry’s, catching the front of his half-
unbuttoned, billowy white shirt to reel him in for a kiss because he
can. Harry’s lips taste like strawberries and his fingers are cold from
the condensation on the glass where they slip around Louis’ wrist and
he starts smiling the moment Louis pulls back, gently bopping their
foreheads together before releasing Louis’ wrist.

“What was that for?” he asks, grinning as Louis props his legs in
Harry’s lap.

Louis smiles impishly, affecting a carefree shrug as Harry wraps a

hand around his ankle. “Just ‘cause.”

Harry leans back in, kissing the tip of Louis’ nose before mouthing at
his cheek. “I like kissing you just ‘cause,” he says quietly, mouth
brushing over Louis’ once more before he finally pulls back.

Louis raises an eyebrow and takes another sip of his cocktail in an

attempt to stifle the giddy feeling in his chest. His cheeks hurt from
smiling so much but he doesn’t know how to stop – he doesn’t really
want to, honestly.

They put away a few more rounds before exhaustion eventually

catches up with them and they decide to head back to the hotel.

They walk along the beach, hands swinging loosely between them and
shoes held in their free hands. It’s deserted now save for the odd
couple that passes them by. Most people are still gathered in the
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cluster of pubs and restaurants but the noise slowly fades to the
background as they move further away.

It isn’t until their hotel is coming into sight and the noise of the strip
is long gone that Harry stops them. Louis pauses, looking up at him
with a curious gaze, and he can’t see too well in the dark but he thinks
Harry might be blushing.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Harry shrugs, idly drawing his toes through the sand beneath his feet.
“We haven’t had our first dance yet.”

Louis stops short, realising what Harry’s getting at. Nothing about
this has been traditional but Louis knows Harry’s always wanted the
big conventional wedding – even if this whole thing was his idea in
the first place. Making a decision, he drops his shoes on sand before
taking Harry’s from his hand and setting them down beside his own.

He steps back then, extending a hand to Harry with a flourish. “Harry

Styles,” he says, clearing his throat for dramatic affect. Harry rolls his
eyes but he’s beaming. “Would you please have this dance with me?”

Harry makes him sweat for a second, pretending to decide, before he

slips his hand in Louis’ and allows himself to be pulled close. His
dimples are denting his cheeks and Louis can tell how pleased he
looks as he settles his free hand around Louis’ neck.

“There’s no music,” Harry points out when Louis starts swaying

them.

“Harold, I love you but I refuse to say, “Then let’s make our own
music,” I can’t do it and I won’t.”

Harry barks out a laugh, tripping over his own feet and sending him
straight into Louis’ chest. He doesn’t bother trying to right himself,
126
just hooks his chin over Louis’ shoulder and presses closer. “I’ll sing,”
he murmurs, voice too low and too close to Louis’ neck and making
him shudder.

Louis nods, pressing a kiss to Harry’s hair and lining up their temples
when Harry stands a little straighter.

“To you, I’ll give the world,” Harry sings under his breath, voice just
loud enough to carry a tune. “To you, I’ll never be cold.”

Louis closes his eyes and can already feel a whirlwind of emotions
welling up inside him. It’s their song. It’s the song Louis heard for the
first time when he was over at Harry’s house, listening to an old
record Harry’s dad had left behind because it had been the only thing
to get Harry to sleep when he was a baby.

Harry was six when he’d taken Louis’ hand and told him he wanted to
show him something special. They’d sat cross-legged in front of each
other in the spare room after Harry had turned on the record player
and Louis can still remember the dreamy look on Harry’s face as the
opening notes filtered into the room, can still remember hearing this
song and looking at this boy and thinking it was the most
mesmerising experience in the entire world. He was only eight years
old but he’s never listened to that song the same since.

It’s the first song he’d tried to learn on the piano – badly, he might
add – and the song he sang into Harry’s hair to help him fall asleep
the night he was crying and holding Louis’ hand tightly and
whispering, “I like boys, Lou.”

It’s everything he’s always wanted to say and never known how to say
to Harry.

“And the songbirds keeps singing’ like they know the score,

And I love you, I love you, I love you,

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Like never before…”

Harry’s voice is right by his ear, soft and smooth, and Louis wants to
carve this moment out of time and keep it forever. He wants to
remember everything. The sand under his feet, the breeze rustling
their hair, the faint rush of the waves crawling towards them. Harry’s
hand in his and Harry’s chest against his own and Harry’s voice in his
ear and Harry.

He kisses Harry before he can finish the song, swallowing the words
down and pouring them right back into Harry with everything he has.
Harry clutches his back and Louis winds his finger in Harry’s curls,
losing himself in the overwhelming sensation of Harry’s lips moving
with his own.

They separate eventually, with whispered “I love you”s breathed out

against flushed skin, and Louis takes Harry’s hand in his again,
resuming their earlier position. He lays his head on Harry’s chest and
prompts them to start swaying again; Harry picks up the tune again
without missing a beat, murmuring the lyrics into Louis’ hair.

Louis closes his eyes and lets himself get lost to it all, revelling in
Harry’s touch as he hears the same two lines repeat over and over in
his head.

I love you

I love you

I love you

Like never before.

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Their first full day in Barcelona is breakfast in bed with a side of
kisses. It’s white sheets and skin on skin and lots of laughter and
shared showers. It’s sitting on the balcony with a bedsheet around
their waists, watching the sunset. It’s champagne flavoured kisses that
neither of them can really afford but they don’t care. It’s learning
every inch of one another’s bodies that they missed the first time
around and then learning it again. And again. And again.

Their second full day in Barcelona is exploring. It’s flitting in and out
of kiosks and souvenir shops and Louis stopping in front of a display
case while Harry is distracted by some sunglasses. It’s taking Harry’s
hand and sitting him down on the low-hanging wall separating the
strip from the beach and sliding a Barcelona coin bracelet onto his
wrist.

It’s Harry turning his wrist this way and that with an admiring smile
before looking up at Louis with a questioning glint in his eyes.

It’s, “Your placeholder until I find you a ring.”

It’s a promise.

Their third full day in Barcelona is sunbathing and underwater kisses

in the sea and massaging sunscreen into each other’s backs and racing
their ice-creams to finish them before they start melting down their
hands. It’s cocktails with sparklers almost as bright as Harry’s smile
and picking the weirdest food they can find on their menus because
why not? It’s Louis kissing Harry’s sunburnt nose and Harry running
his hands all over Louis’ tanned torso.

Their fourth full day is sightseeing and the aquarium and Louis
pointing at the most colourful, bizarre fish he can find and saying,
“That’s you,” when he gets Harry’s attention. It’s the zoo and Harry
pointing at a meerkat and defiantly saying, “That’s you,” in retaliation.
It’s buying tacky, overpriced baseball caps and t-shirts as souvenirs
for the lads. It’s waffles and chocolate sauce –that they lick off each
129
other’s fingers when they think no one is looking – for dinner and
taking turns sleeping on each other for the train ride back to their
hotel.

Their fifth full day they find their rings. It’s an accident really. They’d
been doing a bit of shopping when Harry had dragged him into some
antique shop tucked away in the corner of the square. They’re
wandering through the aisles, looking at the various trinkets and knick
knacks adorning the shelves when Harry lets out a quiet gasp beside
him.

Louis pauses, looking up to study Harry’s face before following his

line of sight to the shelf in front of him. Sitting in an open box is two
rings; they’re both gold, inlaid with little crystals that are hardly
noticeable unless you’re looking up close. Their designs are slightly
different but it’s still obvious they belong together. Louis loves them.

“I want them,” Harry whispers, delicately picking up the ring with the
tiny blue crystals embedded amongst silver stones. He holds it
reverently, slipping it on to the tip of his finger but not pushing it all
the way to the knuckle just in case it doesn’t come off again.

Louis checks the price tag and feels his bank account cry a little but
he pushes the thought down. He knows they’re never going to find
anything like this in a jewellery shop. He regards the other ring for a
moment; it’s slightly plainer in appearance but no less intricately
beautiful. He imagines wearing it for the rest of his life – he wants to.

Carefully, he takes the ring from Harry’s hand and sets it back in the
box, closing the lid for safekeeping. “Let’s get them, Haz,” he says,
lifting up on his toes to kiss Harry’s cheek and making for the
checkout.

Harry follows with wide eyes and a hushed, “Are you sure?”

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Louis stops and spins in a circle to face Harry again, hand curving
around Harry’s jaw and thumb sweeping over his cheek. “They’re the
rings,” he says simply.

Harry’s eyes are shining and he turns his face to kiss Louis’ palm
when he says, “Yeah. They are.”

And that’s the end of that. They pay and the cashier is gracious
enough to direct them to a jewellers that’ll resize the rings for them
for a good price and when they go to bed that night it’s with rings on
their fingers and smiles on their faces and a promise they never intend
to break.

The trip has to end at some point and on Friday they’re forced to re-
enter the real world on their plane ride home. They spend it mostly in
silence, content to play with each other’s hands while Louis rests his
head on Harry’s shoulder and Harry rests his head on top of Louis’.
Louis has lost count of the amount of times he’s played with Harry’s
ring finger since Thursday, turning his hand to watch the band glint in
the sunlight. He’d be embarrassed if Harry wasn’t just as bad as him.

Harry offers him a rueful smile when they touch down in a rainy
London, sliding his arm around Louis’ shoulder and kissing the top of
his head as they make their way out of the airport.

It’s not until they’re in a taxi back to their flat and they finally
remember to turn back on their phones that they figure they should
probably call the lads. They’ve left them with radio silence for a week;
the last time any of them had seen Harry he’d been crying and the last
time they’d seen Louis he’d been racing out the door after him. They
should probably give them an explanation.

So they text the group chat, telling them they’re almost home and that
they can call over in an hour. When they get three texts in the
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affirmative Louis locks his phone again and watches the familiar
London streets pass them by.

They get just under an hour to themselves when they arrive back at
the flat – enough time to open the windows and spray some air
freshener to get rid of the stuffy feeling in the flat. Harry dumps their
dirty clothes in the wash basket while Louis takes their now empty
suitcases and stuffs them in the closet by the front door. They change
out of their travel clothes into clean joggers and are just sitting down
with their cups of tea to wait for the boys when the door bangs open.

Craning their necks to look over the back of the sofa reveals Zayn,
Liam and Niall tripping over themselves trying to get through the
doorway. They all stand frozen when they meet Harry and Louis’
gazes, though their eyes seem to be specifically stuck on where Louis’
arm is around Harry’s shoulder.

“Well, are you going to come in?” Louis asks slowly, watching in
fascination as they all suddenly jump to attention and push through
the threshold. Liam closes the door behind them and they converge
in the living room. Zayn opts for the armchair while Liam perches on
the armrest next to him. Niall, looking like he’s just walked into an
interrogation room, decides to settle on the edge of the coffee table in
front of Harry and Louis, propping his elbows up on his knees and
steepling his fingers together.

Louis meets Harry’s sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye and
tries to hide his smirk. And they say Louis is dramatic.

They sit in tense silence for a moment before Niall can’t seem to take
it anymore and regards them both with a look. “Well?!” he demands
expectantly.

Harry barks out a laugh before muffling it in Louis’ shoulder. Louis

grins, absently running the backs of his fingers over Harry’s arm – he
can see Zayn watching them closely out of the corner of his eye.
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“I told H I love him,” he confesses eventually, lips turning up
involuntarily.

No one speaks for a moment until Liam softly prompts them with,
“And what did Harry say?”

Rather than looking at any of the boys, Harry turns to Louis, meeting
his eyes with an adoring expression on his face. “I told him I loved
him back, obviously,” he says, leaning in to brush their mouths
together. It’s not a proper kiss – they’re too busy smiling into each
other’s mouths for it to be – but Niall still cheers in triumph,
punching the air with his fist while Zayn and Liam trade pleased grins.

Louis maintains eye contact with Harry when they pull back, silently
asking if he’s ready to tell them the rest. When Harry nods they both
turn to face the room at large.

“That’s not all,” he says, cutting the congratulations that had been on
the tip of Liam’s tongue short.

The boys all stop trying to talk over each other, pausing to frown in
confusion.

Niall, predictably, sees first. “What d’you mean that’s not-“ He stops,
eyes zeroing in on where Harry’s left hand is raised to link with Louis’
around his shoulder. Louis can tell the exact moment he spots the
rings. “When did you get those rings?”

“Are those engagement rings?” Liam asks before being immediately

cut off by Zayn’s louder, “Are those wedding rings?!”

“Surprise?” Harry offers half-heartedly.

The room descends into chaos instantly. There are three people
yelling at them and none of them are coherent enough to actually be
133
understandable. Niall is standing up now, gesturing wildly with his
hands while Liam has taken up residence on Harry’s other side on the
sofa, clutching Harry’s hand for closer inspection, eyes darting back
and forth between their rings like he’s watching a tennis match. Louis
thinks he hears the word “reckless” somewhere in the middle of
Zayn’s tirade from the armchair.

“Are you insane?” Zayn asks incredulously.

“When did this happen?” comes Liam’s slightly more patient

question.

“How the fuck could you get married without us?!” Niall demands,
looking quite possibly the angriest Louis has ever seen him.

“So maybe we eloped-“ Harry starts before the yelling sets off again.
He throws Louis a helpless look but Louis feels just as lost as he is.

“Listen!” he cuts in and the three of them blessedly shut their mouths
for five seconds. “We just-“

He looks at Harry, who smiles at him, taking Louis’ hand in his now
that his arm has slipped from round Harry’s shoulder. “We didn’t
want to wait anymore, okay?” Harry takes over gently. “We spent so
long not being together that we just- we didn’t want to miss out on
everything anymore.”

The boys all seem to be processing this, frowning in indignation,

concern and resignation respectively.

In the end it takes twenty-four hours for them to calm down enough
and get over their outrage at not being invited along to actually talk to
Louis and Harry. But the next day they arrive on Harry and Louis’
doorstep, offering fierce hugs and telling them how happy they are
for them before ushering them back to the living room and
demanding to hear all the details.
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Louis leans against Harry and tries to ignore the pain in his cheeks
from smiling so much as they regal Niall, Liam and Zayn with their
impromptu wedding ceremony and days spent in Barcelona. Harry
digs out his camera to show them pictures and Louis goes rifling
through their stuff to find the shitty souvenirs from the zoo they
bought them and by the time they reach the end of their story Niall is
a bit teary-eyed while Liam is wearing his crinkly-eyed smile and Zayn
is watching them like a proud parent. Seeing the acceptance and
happiness on their faces finally causes relief to flood through Louis.

They finish the night off with beer and take-away, catching up with
everything they’ve missed during their week away. And everything’s
the same as it was before they left except Louis is sitting between
Harry’s legs and Harry keeps dropping little kisses in Louis’ hair and
over his cheeks and their rings clack together every time their hands
overlap and Louis knows when they go to sleep tonight they’ll be
staying in the same bed. And it won’t be temporary or something they
don’t talk about. It’s gonna be something they do for the rest of their
lives.

They eventually shepherd the boys out of the flat sometime past 2am
and Harry instantly latches onto Louis’ back, burying his face in the
crook of Louis’ neck. “Take me to bed,” he commands sleepily,
yawning into Louis’ neck.

“Sexiest proposition I’ve ever gotten, hands down,” he snorts,

reaching up to hold onto Harry’s wrists where they’re crossed over
his chest as he slowly begins walking them towards Louis’ – their –
bedroom.

(They decided Louis’ room would make the better bedroom since it’s
the one they’ve been spending most of their time in anyway and a lot
of Harry’s stuff has already migrated there during the past couple of
weeks.)

135
(They swapped Louis’ mattress out for Harry’s though. Can’t have
Harry hurting his back, can they?)

“So that went better than expected,” Louis says conversationally,

tugging Harry towards the bed once they’re through the threshold.

“Only took them a day to cool down,” Harry snorts, crawling into his
side of the mattress and immediately rolling onto his opposite side so
Louis can curl around his back.

“Now all we have to do is tell our parents,” Louis replies, kissing

Harry’s jaw and sliding his arms around Harry’s middle before
dragging the covers up around them.

Harry hums, folding his arms over Louis’ and huffing a quiet laugh.

“Pfft, how hard could it be?”

136
 PART 2:
If You Asked Me If I Love Him (I’d Lie)

137
So Harry and Louis might have fucked up.

The day of their wedding was the single most perfect moment of
Louis’ life and every single day since where he’s been able to call
Harry his husband has been nothing short of bliss. There’s just one
teeny, tiny problem…

Their families don’t know they’re married.

Strike that, their families don’t even know they’re together.

It’s not on purpose, it’s just- well, they sort of…eloped.

Look, they’d been stupid for a really long time and when they finally
realised how ridiculously, dreadfully head over heels in love with each
other they were after twenty years of friendship, they didn’t want to
wait anymore.

So after some messy albeit emotional love confessions and one too
many kisses, they made a split-second decision and climbed into
Louis’ shitty car and drove to the registry office. The whole thing was
impersonal and rushed but the moment Louis looked into Harry’s
glittering eyes all the craziness and all the consequences just fell away.
They spouted off rambling tangents about how much they loved each
other as their vows and he’s quite certain the witnesses the
courthouse provided spent the whole ceremony trying not to laugh as
Harry tripped over his words and both of them kept giggling - even
still when there were tears in their eyes.

They’d disappeared to Barcelona for a week afterwards, both of them

calling in sick to work and texting the boys to tell them they’d explain
later. They spent seven days alternating between lying on the beach
and in their bed, mapping out every inch of each other’s bodies and
realising the shift from friends to more than friends – husbands –

138
honestly isn’t all that hard when you’ve been unknowingly acting like
a married couple for at least eight years of your friendship.

It wasn’t until they’d come home that they realised their little
adventure kind of effected more than just them. Case in point; Zayn,
Liam and Niall refused to talk to them for over a day when they
found out they hadn’t been invited to the wedding before proceeding
to yell angrily about how happy they were for them and then hugging
them ridiculously hard.

It made Harry and Louis somewhat…reticent to tell their families.

Specifically, their mothers.

It’s not that they meant to keep it a secret it’s just, well, their mums
are really scary, okay?

And if their friends reacted like that to Harry and Louis getting married
without them, what would their mothers do? Their mothers who’ve
been not so secretly hoping they’d end up together since Louis was
six and Harry was four and they were still taking baths together. So
they put it off, and they put it off and now it’s been nine months and
neither of their families knows they’re even together and there’s a
message from Jay on Louis’ phone asking how soon before Lottie’s
wedding he’ll arrive home.

Home.

For Lottie’s wedding.

With Harry.

Where both of their families will be waiting for them.

Fuck.

139
“Haz?” Louis calls nervously, twisting his phone in his hands as he
hears light footfalls make their way to the living room.

“Yeah, babe?” Harry’s leaning against the doorway, apron on, hair in
a messy bun and wooden spoon in hand. He must be in the middle of
dinner.

“Um, I have a message from my mum,” he continues hesitantly,

watching Harry’s brow furrow. He doesn’t get it yet.

“Okay…” Harry says slowly, moving further into the room. “Is she
okay? Are the girls okay?”

“Yeah, yeah they’re fine,” Louis assures, waving a hand. He tries not
to gulp too audibly when Harry sits down next to him, setting the
wooden spoon on the coffee table. “It’s just um- well Lottie’s
wedding. It’s in two weeks.”

Harry’s eyes widen in realisation and he leans back. He looks slightly

dumbfounded, his mouth dropped open in surprise, and Louis
instantly knows he isn’t the only one who completely forgot.

“Oh.”

Yeah. Oh.

“We haven’t told them we’re married yet,” Harry says dazedly. He
looks a bit green honestly, maybe they should’ve thought of this
sooner…

Tentatively, Louis reaches out a hand and twines it with Harry’s. The
fact that Harry immediately tightens his fingers around Louis’ serves
to calm him somewhat.

140
Steeling himself, he voices their only viable option. “I don’t think we
should tell them yet.”

Harry’s gaze snaps to him in an instant, eyes wide as saucers.

“What?!” he asks incredulously.
“Lottie’s been planning this wedding for a year and a half!” Louis
rushes to explain. “We’d be stealing her thunder if we told
everyone now. And you know our mums would kill us, I don’t want to
spend the weekend dealing with the silent treatment from my entire
extended family.”

“So, what? You want us to pretend we’re not married?” Harry says
like the very notion is completely preposterous. He sounds slightly
calmer, at least.

“And maybe that we’re still just mates?” Louis winces, scrunching his
eyes shut against the inevitable outburst.

“Louis!” Harry yells indignantly, snatching his hand out of Louis’

grasp to smack his arm. And yeah, he’s definitely offended.

“H, people have been waiting for us to get together for literal years!
Lottie would kill us if we came home and announced we’re a couple.
You know it’d take the focus off her and that’s not fair.” Louis is also
still maybe, slightly terrified of his mother’s reaction to them keeping
it a secret for so long.

He scoots closer to Harry, settling an arm around his shoulders and

silently thanking god he doesn’t shrug him off. “Baby, I promise we’ll
tell everyone as soon as Lottie’s on her honeymoon, okay?” he
beseeches, breathing a sigh of relief when Harry’s hand falls on his
thigh. “But let’s just keep it between us for that weekend, yeah? Come
on, it can’t be that hard to pretend.”

141
Harry scoffs, side-eyeing him sceptically. “You realise this means you
won’t be able to kiss me the whole time we’re home?” he reminds.
“Or touch me or hold my hand or sleep in the same bed as me?”

Louis is about to protest when he realises Harry is right. If they go

home as just friends Harry will stay in his mum’s house and Louis will
stay in his. And sure, they were tactile as friends but nowhere near as
intimate as they are now. And he’ll have to take off his wedding ring.
He hasn’t taken it off since the moment he put it on except to
shower.

“We won’t be in public the whole time,” he mumbles weakly.

Harry huffs a laugh, leaning in and bumping his forehead against

Louis’ affectionately. “We’ll do it for Lottie,” he murmurs softly.
“And the lads will be there. They can help us if we get caught in a
sticky situation.”

Louis secretly thinks Niall, Liam and Zayn would be much happier
watching them suffer than actually helping them but he doesn’t say
that out loud.

“You’re right,” he replies with more confidence than he feels. Now

that Harry’s actually agreed he’s suddenly not feeling so sure about
this whole idea. “We can do this.”

They can’t do this.

It’s two days before the wedding, they’ve been driving for just over
two hours and the closer they get to Holmes Chapel, the more Louis
feels like he’s going to throw up. Harry, for his part, has been
nervously jiggling his leg where he sits in the passenger seat for the
past twenty minutes.
142
Louis reaches out and places a hand over his knee, feeling Harry’s leg
go still beneath him. He gives Harry a small smile when he glances
away from the road and pats his leg comfortingly.

“We’re gonna fuck this up, aren’t we?” Harry asks bluntly.

“We’re not gonna fuck it up,” Louis soothes, purposely ignoring the
dread in his own stomach.

“Lou, I’m a terrible liar,” Harry points out. “And you can’t last five
minutes without calling me “love” or “baby”.”

“I did that before we got together,” he reasons with a scoff. God, he

was a stupid teenager. How did it take him until he was twenty-six to
realise he was in love with Harry?

Harry doesn’t say anything and when Louis risks another look at him
he sees him smiling to himself, blush prominent on his cheeks. It
makes Louis’ own lips quirk up happily. Yeah, maybe it took them a
long time to get here but where they were before wasn’t so bad either.

“We’ll be fine, love,” he promises. “No one’s going to be looking at us

anyway. Mum and Fizzy’ll be far too caught up in helping Lottie and I
reckon Gems and your mum will be in the same boat.”

Harry takes a deep breath before nodding. “You’re right, you’re right.
This just feels a little ridiculous,” he adds sheepishly.

“Like we’re teenagers sneaking around behind our mums’ backs?”

Louis laughs because they haven’t even seen their parents yet and it
already kind of feels like that. Louis always feels like a child again
whenever he’s around his mum; it’s even more heightened under the
current circumstances.

143
Harry barks a laugh and hums in agreement. “They’re gonna be so
mad when they find out, Lou.”

“What d’you say to another trip to Barcelona? Y’know, just in case we

have to go on the run after we tell them,” Louis jokes, smile
stretching into a grin when Harry giggles and lightly hits his arm.

“S’not funny, babe,” he whines even though he’s still laughing.

“They’re gonna kill us.”

“It’s a little funny, Haz,” Louis coaxes, the knot in his stomach
loosening a little more the longer Harry laughs. “If nothing else, it’ll
be a good story to tell our kids one day.”

“Our kids,” Harry repeats softly. When he looks at Harry he’s twisted
in his seat to face him, hand sliding into the one Louis still has resting
on his knee. “We’re gonna have babies one day,” he murmurs, smile
something soft and tender that tugs at Louis’ chest.

“Then our mums will have to forgive us. They can’t be mad at us if we
give them grandchildren,” Louis rationalises and it sets Harry into
another fit of laughter.

Driving home doesn’t feel so scary after that.

Arriving at Louis’ actual house, however, is another matter.

It looks like they haven’t been spotted since there’re no children

racing out of the house and infiltrating the car just yet.

Louis turns off the ignition and undoes his belt, turning in his seat to
face Harry. “Ready?”

144
“Not really,” Harry mutters but he still smiles when Louis reaches
across the console and locks their pinkies together. “Suppose it’d be
too much to sneak a kiss now?”

“I think we shouldn’t blow our cover ten seconds after we arrive,”

Louis teases lightly but he still lifts Harry’s hand to his lips and
presses a kiss to his knuckles. On the off chance anyone’s watching,
he should be blocked by Harry’s head. Taking a deep breath, he drops
Harry’s hand and offers him a smile. “Let’s go, baby.”

“Wait!” Harry stops him suddenly, catching Louis’ left hand. “We
need to take these off first.”

Louis looks down at his own hand, cradled in Harry’s, and sees his
wedding ring. He doesn’t want to take it off. He never wants to take it
off but he doesn’t have much of a choice. Frowning slightly, he lets
Harry slip the ring off his finger before he takes off his own.

“Hold them a sec,” Harry requests quietly and Louis wordlessly curls
his fingers around the rings while Harry reaches up and undoes the
chain around his neck. Louis watches as he slides the rings onto the
chain and refastens it around his neck, hiding it underneath his t-shirt.

Harry smiles at him once he’s done, taking Louis’ hand and squeezing
it in reassurance. “I’m ready now.”

They step out of the car at the same time and it seems that’s all
anyone in Louis’ house had been waiting for because the door flings
open as soon as they reach the footpath and two sets of twins come
hurtling towards them.

Shouts of “Louis!” mingle with shouts of “Harry!” and Louis can’t

help but feel emotional at how much his siblings already regard Harry
as part of the family.

145
Daisy and Ernie come crashing into his arms while Phoebe and Doris
make a beeline for Harry. Doris always did have a soft spot for Harry
from the moment she was born. Daisy and Phoebe generally seem to
alternate between Harry and Louis as to who their favourite is at any
given time.

“Daisy Tomlinson, is that makeup you’re wearing?” Louis demands

once he has Ernie settled comfortably against his hip and Daisy at an
arm’s length.

She rolls her eyes in a way that Lottie definitely taught her before
indignantly informing him that, “Pheebs is wearing it too.”

Phoebe detaches herself from Harry to glare at her sister. “What did
you have to tell him that for?”

Harry laughs, drawing Daisy’s attention and sending her running over
to hug him instead, evidently done with her big brother for now.

Louis stifles a laugh and drags Phoebe into a hug instead, nodding
along to her chattering as he makes his way up the path to the front
door.

He can hear Doris’ delighted squeals of laughter behind him which

means Harry is probably acting ridiculously adorable right now. It
takes everything in Louis not to turn around and watch.

Instead, he pushes through the front door and smiles fondly after
Daisy and Phoebe racing upstairs as he calls for his mum. Harry
touches his shoulder then, expression lit up excitedly. “Wanna
switch?” he whispers, gesturing to Doris in his arms.

Louis feels his smile grow and nods, holding an arm out for his little
sister. “How’s my favourite girl?” he coos. The twins are four now

146
and probably too heavy to be carried but he doesn’t plan on letting
them go any time soon.

Harry makes grabby hands for Ernest, lifting him into his arms as
soon as he’s deposited Doris in Louis’ and talking to him in a funny
voice to make him laugh.

It’s at that moment that Louis’ mum appears in the hallway, smiling
affectionately at the sight in front of her. “Well hello there, strangers!”
she calls to get their attention.

Louis looks up and knows his expression lights up when their eyes
meet. He opts to set Doris down for now to pull her into a proper
hug. “Hi mum.”

“Lou,” she greets softly, arms squeezing tightly around him. God,
he’s missed her.

She pulls back after a moment, hands planted on his shoulders as she
regards him with a shrewd eye. He suddenly feels anxious, like he has
“Just Married” tattooed on his forehead but she seems satisfied and
lets him go, turning instead to Harry.

“Harry, love,” she says warmly. “I’m so glad you came down early as
well.”

“Of course, Jay,” he nods, stepping forward to hug her after he puts
Ernie down. “Made sense to just drive down when Lou was.”

“Ah yes, how is that flat of yours?” Jay asks after she lets him go,
eyeing both of them amusedly. Fuck, thank god they were living
together before they got married. At least she knows that much. “My
boy not messing up the place too bad, I hope?” she questions Harry.
Louis lets out an incensed, “Hey!” but Harry only laughs, shaking his
head.
147
“He certainly keeps me on my toes,” he answers vaguely, throwing
Louis a wink behind Jay’s back. Louis actually has to physically stop
himself from face-palming. This weekend is going to be torture.

“That sounds like him,” Jay smirks, raising her eyebrows at her eldest
son before her gaze drifts back to Harry. “Harry, your mum’s in the
kitchen with the girls. We’re sorting through the bouquets.”

“What can we do to help?” he offers immediately because he’s Harry

and also probably because he’s trying to butter Jay up before he tells
her he deflowered her son and took his marriage virginity.

Jay beams at him as she ushers them both into the kitchen. “Well you
can both start by hugging your siblings and mothers. I think that
might be a good idea.”

Harry needs no further prompting before racing into his mum’s open
arms and Louis feels his heart melt a little just watching him. Fuck, he
loves his boy so much. He doesn’t get much more time to dwell on
that thought – which is probably a good thing – before he’s rudely
interrupted.

“Oi tosser!” Lottie calls, catching his attention. “Gonna say hello to
the bride-to-be or what?”

Louis rolls his eyes but can’t help the way his mouth tugs up in a
smile at the sight of Lottie and Fizzy sitting at the kitchen table
surrounded by flowers. “Come on then,” he sighs exasperatedly -
though he feels anything but - grin breaking out when they both rush
in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

After he’s finally greeted Anne and Gemma and Harry’s said hi to the
girls they pull up two extra chairs to the table and get to work after
some brief instructions from Lottie.

148
“So how’s London treating you both?” Anne asks interestedly,
delicately snipping the stem on the peony she’s holding.

“Same as always,” Harry replies, carefully lying out his flowers in a

row in front of him so he can measure the stems against one another.
He looks hopelessly endearing. “Weather’s terrible but the company’s
quite nice,” he adds with a winning smile – the bashful tilt that still
sits in the corners makes Louis’ knees a little weak.

“Ah yes, how are Liam, Niall and Zayn?” Gemma asks, smirking at
Louis and raising her eyebrows defiantly, just daring him to say
something.

“Fine,” Louis replies primly, ignoring her little dig. “They’ll get in
tomorrow before the rehearsal dinner.”

Conversation carries on after that as Lottie shares her wedding

planning horror stories with them and Louis is so fucking happy he
and Harry didn’t have to go through any of this. If the look on
Harry’s face is anything to go by, he’s pretty happy about it too.

Louis actually doesn’t mind this whole flower arranging business so

much - though he’s incredibly relieved they’ve arrived just as most of
the hard jobs are over. Putting the right amount of flowers in each
bunch and making sure the stems are even isn’t exactly taxing,
however actually tying the bouquet together is proving to be a much
more difficult task than he anticipated.

He’s trying to do it like Lottie showed him but it’s not working, one
always keeps falling out place. He can feel himself getting frustrated
and he’s fairly close to turning these flowers into potpourri when
Harry’s gentle hand lands over his own. Louis looks up to find Harry
dimpling at him.

149
“Let me,” he murmurs, slipping the bouquet out of Louis’ hand and
winding the string around the stems with nimble fingers before
passing it back to Louis. He spends the next few minutes guiding
Louis through it and explaining just the right way to tie the ribbon.

The result is a slightly crinkled but secure bow and he grins at Harry
triumphantly. Harry beams back at him and Louis almost goes to lean
in for a victory kiss before he remembers where he is. He jolts back –
when did their faces even get so close? – and looks self-consciously at
the rest of the table. Who all appear to be staring at them with varying
degrees of amusement and suspicion. Great.

Louis clears his throat and Harry returns to his own bouquet but
Louis can practically feel his mother biting her tongue.

This may not have been as easy as he’d originally thought.

Harry reluctantly leaves with Anne and Gemma after dinner. They get
a brief moment of reprieve while Louis helps Harry get his bags from
the boot of Louis’ car.

“So that wasn’t so bad,” he mutters, keeping his voice down because
you never know where prying ears could be lurking.

“Mm,” Harry hums in agreement. “Except for the flower incident.

Sorry babe.”

“My fault as much as yours,” Louis shrugs, shouldering his own bag
onto his back to take inside with him. “Gonna miss you tonight,
love.”

150
“First night apart since our-” Harry trails off, not quite brave enough
to say the word when they’re still standing in front of Louis’ house,
but his smile says it all. Even if there is a disappointed curve to it.

“Meet me for breakfast in the morning, yeah?” Louis requests quietly,

risking reaching a hand out to stroke Harry’s arm.

Harry just nods in agreement and murmurs that he’ll text him.

“Harry, darling, are you ready?” Anne asks, travelling down the
walkway to her own car.

“Be there in a sec!” Harry calls before lowering his voice as he turns
back to Louis. “Call me before you go to sleep, Lou. Love you.”

“I will,” Louis promises. “Love you too, baby.”

With one last wistful smile Harry steps away from him to make his
way to his mother’s car.

Louis pretends he doesn’t feel like running after the car and begging
Harry to stay. For fuck’s sake he’s only driving one street over, Louis
needs to get over himself.

He doesn’t feel quite so pathetic when Harry stays turned around in

his seat to watch Louis until the car rounds the corner.

After turning his pillow over for approximately the tenth time he
reaches out and feels around the bedside table for his phone. When
his fingers lock around it he drags it close to his face to check the
time. Squinting his eyes at the harsh light, he eventually reads that it’s
3am.

151
Ugh, he’s been in bed for four fucking hours and he’s still wide
awake.

It’s not fair. He’s too cold without Harry and his arms feel empty and
he doesn’t care if he’s in a single bed right now, it still feels too big
when he’s alone.

After debating it for a few minutes he crawls out of bed, slipping on

his Vans and a hoodie before tiptoeing out of his room and down the
stairs. Making sure to take his keys and pocketing his phone, he
creeps out the front door and makes the short walk to Harry’s house.

For a moment, he considers calling Harry or maybe seeing if the spare

key is still under the plant on the porch like it used to be. Ultimately
though, he decides to sneak around the side of the house, stopping
underneath Harry’s window.

He’s not sure what possesses him to do it but when he sees the stone
sitting idly on the grass he can’t help himself from picking it up and
tossing it at Harry’s window.

It ricochets with a soft clack and he waits a moment to see if he gets a

response. When Harry’s window remains silent as ever he picks up
another handful of stones and begins to throw.

It takes about two minutes for Louis to see a light turn on in the
room and for Harry to draw back his curtains and poke his head out.

“Lou?” he whisper-yells, face scrunching up in sleepy confusion.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep,” he answers simply, stuffing his hands in the pockets of

his hoodie and shrugging his shoulders even as they’re hunched
against the slight chill in the air. He doesn’t care if it’s supposedly
summer, it’s still bloody freezing.
152
“And you didn’t think to just ring me?”

That draws a grin from Louis and he waggles his eyebrows. “Come
on, H. We never got to do the dumb teenage sneaking around thing
when we were kids. ‘M making up for lost time.”

Harry just stares at him for a moment before he breaks into a laugh,
shaking his head in exasperation. “Come on then,” he huffs amusedly.
“I’ll meet you at the front door.”

Louis feels slightly giddy as he races back around to the front of the
house. He’s just skipping up the steps of the porch when the door
quietly clicks open and a sleep rumpled Harry appears, leaning against
it and rubbing at his eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Louis whispers, closing the last little bit of distance
between them to give Harry a kiss.

“Hi, Lou,” Harry mumbles tiredly, hand locking around Louis’ wrist
to tug him inside.

They stumble up the stairs as quietly as possible, a difficult feat when

Louis is attached to Harry’s back, loath to leave even a little space
between them.

Harry doesn’t seem to mind, just keeps his hands settled over Louis’
around his waist to keep them in place.

Harry’s room is exactly how Louis remembers it - though there aren’t

any posters on the walls now, instead they’re painted a nice neutral
beige colour. Harry’s memory foam mattress is also exactly how Louis
remembers and he sinks into it willingly, letting out a contented sigh
as he kicks off his shoes.

153
“You’re just using me for my bed,” Harry grumbles, climbing in next
to him and pulling the covers up over them both.

“Obviously,” Louis drawls. “I married you nine months ago in

anticipation of our return home just so I could sleep in your
childhood bed for one night. You caught me.”

Harry snorts but doesn’t reply, going pliant the moment Louis curves
around his back and pulls him close. “Didn’t like sleeping without
you,” he mutters a few minutes later, thumb sweeping over the back
of Louis’ hand.

“Me either,” Louis replies softly, tucking his face against Harry’s hair
so his nose is nestled in the spot just behind Harry’s ear. “I’ll sneak
out before your mum wakes up in the morning.”

The last thing he hears is Harry’s garbled “’kay,” before his eyes
droop shut and he finds himself drifting off.

Louis doesn’t wake up to the alarm he’d set on his phone when he’d
been on his way to Harry’s. He doesn’t even wake up to soft tummy
kisses Harry sometimes gives him on Sunday mornings. No, Louis
wakes up wrapped around Harry in his childhood bed with Harry’s
mother standing over them, arms folded and eyebrows raised.

She clears her throat as soon as she realises Louis’ awake, mouth
twitching like she wants to laugh but isn’t gonna give up the Mum act
just yet.

Harry seems to wake up the minute she makes a sound – Louis can
feel him freeze in his arms.

Satisfied that they’re both conscious, Anne decides to speak.

“Morning boys,” she says, sounding far too gleeful and far too awake
for whatever hour of the morning it is.
154
Louis slowly extricates himself from Harry and puts some space
between them. Harry, himself, seems to be hoping that if he doesn’t
make any sudden movements she won’t notice him.

“Morning, Anne,” he answers obediently, hoping his half-laugh

doesn’t sound quite as uneasy as it does in his head.

Judging by the way her grin deepens, it does.

“Louis,” she greets warmly. “What exactly are you doing in my son’s
bed?”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Harry dig his face into his pillow
to suppress a groan before he pushes himself up as well.

Louis’ mind goes completely, utterly blank and he starts to talk before
the panic can truly set in. “Uh…I was. Um it’s just a bit crowded and
crazy at home, you know?” he stutters, feeling himself tense and then
relax when Harry puts a hand on his leg under the blanket. “Didn’t
want to be in the way so I called Haz and asked if I could stay here
instead.”

“We have a guest room you know?” She doesn’t look like she’s
buying this for one second, fuck how did they already fuck up?

“It was super last minute!” Harry jumps in and Louis sends him a
silent thank you. “And we were both exhausted after the trip
yesterday. Didn’t even think, to be honest.”

Anne just hums in answer, delicately arching her eyebrow before

turning on her heel and making her way to the door. “Breakfast is in
ten minutes!” she calls over her shoulder and then she disappears
from the room.

155
They’re silent for about five seconds before Harry flops back on the
bed and puts a pillow over his face, letting out a pained noise.

“Alright, love,” Louis placates, pulling the pillow away from him.
“Let’s not suffocate ourselves just yet.”

“She definitely knows,” Harry pouts, bottom lip jutting out sulkily
and eyes all wide and puppy-like and that’s so unfair.

“No she doesn’t,” Louis soothes, running a hand over Harry’s bare
arm. “She suspects but she doesn’t know. As long as we keep it that
way until after the wedding, we’ll be fine.”

“Lou, we couldn’t even last twenty-four hours,” Harry complains. “How

are we meant to make it through the next three days?”

“Sheer force of will and blind luck?”

Harry laughs but it turns into a groan halfway through as he rolls over
to curl into Louis’ side. “This is a disaster,” he grumbles into Louis’
chest.

“It’s okay,” Louis insists, smoothing a hand over Harry’s hair.

“Besides, we used to fall asleep in each other’s beds all the time in the
flat before we got together.”

Harry pulls back to give him a deadpan look. “Yeah and hindsight
taught us that wasn’t exactly platonic behaviour, Louis.”

Louis laughs - can’t really help it - but concedes. “Okay fine, so we

were really stupid and that’s very obviously not just a friend thing but
come on, if we were always like that around our parents it shouldn’t
be any different now.”

156
Harry mutters something unintelligible that’s probably as close to an
agreement as Louis’ gonna get so he taps the back of his head to get
his attention. “Come on, I’ve missed your mum’s fry-ups. I want
breakfast.”

Harry heaves a long-suffering sigh but drags himself out of the bed
nonetheless. “Fine. But you’re fielding all the questions when my
mum inevitably tells your mum what she saw this morning.”

“Fine.”

Breakfast is actually a nice reprieve. Robin doesn’t let Anne get a

word in edgeways, instead bombarding them with questions about
London. Louis definitely catches Anne texting under the table though
– no doubt his own mum, shit – and when Gemma joins them to find
Louis at the table she gets the most terrifyingly devilish grin on her
face.

Fuck, he forgot about Gemma.

But again, Robin comes to their rescue, changing the topic to the
wedding and keeping the girls busy with listing what they have to do
for the day.

Louis doesn’t know what he knows or what he suspects, but the man
is a saint. He has to remind Harry to get him a new watch or
something when all this is over.

Louis grudgingly leaves after breakfast, slightly terrified of whatever’s

waiting for him in his own house but he just squares his shoulders,
stuffs his feet back into his trainers and leaves the Styles-Twist
residence with his head held high.

157
…He still feels a little bit like he’s doing the Walk of Shame though.

Which is honestly ridiculous. He just snuck over to his husband’s

house to spend the night with him and got caught by his mother-in-
law and now, as he senses their neighbours peeking out from behind
their curtains to stare at him, he feels like he’s bloody coming home
from a one night stand!

The end of this weekend can’t come fast enough.

Louis’ own house is thankfully silent when he arrives home; with his
mum and Lottie out meeting with the caterer the worst culprits aren’t
here to judge him.

Dan only gives him an amused smirk when he sees him before
advising him to hurry upstairs while Fizzy is still out the back with the
youngest twins.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Louis throws him a
quick thank you and pegs it up the stairs to the sanctuary of his own
room. He breathes a sigh of relief as he closes the door behind him
and doesn’t hear the pattering of footsteps in the hallway.

He opts to take a shower to stave off the inevitable interrogation for a

little bit longer, quickly taking a peek out his bedroom window to
make sure Fizzy and the twins still haven’t come inside.

He spends far too long in the shower - enough time to know that if
his mum was home she’d be banging on the door, yelling at him for
wasting all the hot water. He spends even more time drying his hair
and choosing an outfit but eventually he can no longer stave off the
inevitable and trudges back downstairs.

158
Of course the first thing he sees when he walks into the kitchen is his
mum and Lottie standing at the counter going over a checklist. Both
their heads snap up as soon as he enters the room and he doesn’t
miss the delighted looks on their faces before he goes digging through
the fridge in an attempt to hide his face.

“Hey Lou,” Lottie says lightly but it’s all just a ruse - she sounds far
too pleased with herself. Doesn’t she have a wedding to plan? “Didn’t
see you this morning…”

“You know I got the strangest message from Anne earlier,” his mum
cuts in, voice high like it gets when Ernie and Doris lie about
brushing their teeth and she decides to indulge them for a minute to
lull them into a false sense of security. She forgets Louis knows all of
her tricks. When Louis turns around he can almost see the smugness
rolling off them in waves.

“And?” he asks, figuring feigning disinterest is the only way to play

this.

“Apparently you stayed at their house last night?” she asks

unassumingly – though it’s absolutely anything but.

“In Harry’s bed,” Lottie adds because of course she does.

It takes everything Louis has not to visibly react. “Was just a bit
crowded over here, that’s all. Didn’t want to be in the way.” He’s
definitely playing the sympathy card and judging by the look on his
mum’s face it’s not working.

“Mhm and why were you in Harry’s bed?” Lottie questions, not
letting up in the slightest.

“Thought Gemma would be in the spare room,” he shrugs, avoiding

her piercing stare.
159
“Gemma has her own room, Louis,” Lottie counters immediately.
Fucking hell, who died and made her the police?

“Yes well we obviously didn’t think of that last night, did we?” he
snaps, hoping he doesn’t sound quite so rude that his mum’ll start
giving out to him.

Lottie looks like she’s dying to say more but thankfully Dan cuts in –
their stepdads are lifesavers, honestly. “Don’t you have a lunch you
need to get ready for?” he reminds.

“Oh yes!” Jay says suddenly, swishing around to nod at Dan before
facing back to Louis. “We’re meeting with the wedding planner at the
venue to have lunch today. It’s just to go over some last minute
details before the rehearsal dinner tonight. Anne and Gemma are
coming too if you want to join us? I’m sure they’ve wrangled Harry in
as well.”

“Of course they’ve wrangled Harry in,” Louis scoffs. “He loves
weddings.”

“So you’ll come?” Jay clarifies.

Louis hesitates a moment but ultimately nods, knowing for a fact

Harry is probably already in a car on the way there, dutifully listening
to Anne talk about place settings.

That’s how he ends up squished in the back of his mum’s car with
Fizzy on his right and a bunch of wedding shit on his left. And
honestly why is Louis in the middle? He’s the oldest; he should get
passenger seat privileges.

When they get to the hotel where the reception is being held Lottie’s
fiancé, Dave, is already waiting outside with who Louis presumes is

160
the wedding planner. He spots Anne’s car a few down from theirs as
well.

As soon as they’re out of the car Lottie’s running over to greet Dave
with a kiss while Jay heads straight for the wedding planner, list
already in hand and Fizzy diligently at her side. It’s not until they’re
walking through the lobby that Harry sidles up to him, bumping their
hips together and offering him a grin. “So did you get stuck in the
back seat?”

“Yes,” Louis grouses, folding his arms petulantly even though his
mum is paying him no mind.

Harry laughs loudly but slings a casual arm around Louis’ shoulder.
Well- it would be casual if it weren’t for the way Louis immediately
sinks into it. Like they’ve ever done anything that can be classed as
casual touching in the last nine months. Whatever. As far as their
families are concerned, it’s casual.

“So how bad was it when you got home?” Harry asks, keeping his
voice down so the others don’t overhear.

“Okay,” Louis breathes. “Dan deflected the worst of it, thank god.”

“’m starting to think him and Robin know,” Harry mutters, bright
smile instantly slipping back onto his face when their mums look back
to make sure they’re still following.

“I think so too,” he agrees. “But I reckon they won’t say anything

until we do.”

Harry nods, dropping his arm from around Louis’ shoulders once
they enter the hotel restaurant. He pretends it doesn’t make him feel a
little put out.

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Louis gets seated between Harry and Lottie, unsure yet whether it’s a
good thing or not but he’s too engrossed in the menu for the first few
minutes to really care.

“So this one,” Lottie is saying, flipping the page and pointing out a
chicken dish on Louis’ menu, “is one of the dishes we’ll be having for
our main course at the reception. Definitely my favourite.”

Louis hums in acknowledgment and lets the conversation carry on

around him as he continues to peruse the lunch menu. It isn’t until he
hears Harry let out an excited noise beside him that he checks back
into the discussion.

And of course they’re talking about dessert.

Harry just about has a heart attack when he finds out the old bakery
he used to work at is the one doing the wedding cake, immediately
asking after the old women that work there and offering to pick up
the cake himself.

Louis has to hold his menu up to his face to hide his fond smile. (He
thinks Lottie might notice anyway.)

The rest of their lunch goes by without incident. Most of the

conversation is taken up by going over last minute details and
discussions about Lottie and David’s honeymoon – mainly Jay
playfully admonishing Lottie for not having packed yet. It isn’t until
they’re waiting for their dessert to arrive that everything goes to hell.

“H, did you get a new tattoo?” Gemma asks curiously, eyes trained on
where Harry’s left hand is resting on the table, specifically on the
anchor.

“Hmm?” Harry hums distractedly before looking down at his wrist.

“Oh yeah. Got it a couple of months ago. What d’you think?”
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“Aren’t anchors usually meant to have ropes with them?” Gemma
questions dubiously.

Uh oh.

“Louis has a rope,” Lottie pipes up suddenly.

Well, fuck.

“What?” Gemma’s gaze immediately snaps to Lottie. Actually,

everyone’s gaze does except Harry and Louis who decide to look
steadfastly at the table.

“She’s right,” Fizzy cuts in with dawning realisation, blinking owlishly

up at him and Louis can see the cogs turning in her head. “I saw it
yesterday when you pushed up your sleeves. It’s on your wrist.”
Oh god. Oh shit, fuck, abort, abort mission-

“Let me see, Lou,” his mum requests and dammit he can never say no
to his mum. It’s his fatal flaw.

“I-“ Louis throws Harry a pleading look but he looks just as shocked
– if not more - by what’s happening. Louis’ pretty sure he’s been
holding his breath since Lottie first spoke.

“Come on, Louis, show us again,” Lottie needles, expression suddenly

a lot more mischievous than it had been a moment ago.

Cringing internally, Louis brings his hand to rest on the table –

unfortunately right next to where Harry’s is still sitting – and pulls up
the sleeve of his jumper to reveal his rope. In the exact same place as
Harry’s anchor. They definitely should’ve come up with a cover story
for this one.

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It had been so romantic at the time. It had been their six month
anniversary and they wanted to commemorate it somehow. They’d
both been steadily getting tattoos for years and it just felt right.
Splitting the two made sense to them, made it feel more special and
connected.

Looks like it’s kind of biting them in the ass now though.

“They kind of…match,” Anne says faintly, voice lilting in confusion.

Harry laughs uneasily and Louis already knows this is going to be a

disaster. “Haha, whaaat? What are you-“ he tries and fails to stealthily
pull his hand away so the connection doesn’t seem quite so obvious.
Instead he just succeeds in looking really bloody guilty. “You know
what,” he continues with another forced laugh, obviously changing
tactics, “they kind of do…huh, never noticed that before…”

…Well. It could’ve been worse.

Louis has no choice but to agree because he really doesn’t think a

friendship tattoo is gonna cut it now.

(Thank god no one knows the Oops and Hi story except them.)

“How could you not notice?” Gemma demands, her derisive snort
very clearly indicating she doesn’t believe them.

“We don’t exactly consult each other when we get tattoos, Gems,”
Louis steps in because he can already see Harry floundering. He rolls
his eyes for good measure, hoping it comes off unaffected.

“Yeah but whichever one of you got it second had to notice the other
person already had it,” Lottie reasons and Louis really wishes she
would keep her logic to herself.

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“I-“ Harry breaks off, evidently stumped, and Louis isn’t much better
because he can’t think of an explanation. There is no explanation.
Nothing that sounds platonic at least.

He’s mere seconds away from confessing the truth, fuck the
consequences, when his phone begins to ring and he jumps in his
seat, hand clutching his phone like a lifeline. “Sorry I need to take
this!” he rambles, scrambling out of his chair as quickly as possible
and not giving anyone a chance to stop him.

It’s not until he’s walking – running - away from the table that he
realises the person calling him is Harry.

It makes him stop in his tracks when he sees it. Harry must’ve taken
his phone out under the table and called him. He did it to save Louis
and get him out of the situation. He let Louis leave while he fields the
questions all on his own even though he’s just as unprepared for this.

…He’s getting one million kisses for this.

Louis doesn’t hesitate to end the call and turn straight back around to
return to their table. They seem to be sitting in mostly precarious
silence now; the delightful shade of pink on Harry’s cheeks the only
clue of their conversation that remains. Louis sits back in his seat with
a firm smile on his face, surreptitiously reaching out to squeeze
Harry’s hand under the table. Harry responds by linking their ankles.

“Everything okay?” Jay asks politely, clearing her throat.

“Yeah, it was just Niall,” Louis answers, waving his free hand
dismissively. “Just letting me know the lads are on their way.” He has
no idea if they’re on their way; he sincerely hopes they are, to be
honest. It’s not like they could make the situation worse.
Thankfully, conversation moves on again after that with Lottie and
Dave getting distracted by discussing the rehearsal dinner with the
165
wedding planner. He doesn’t miss the looks Gemma keeps sending
them though and he’s afraid to so much as look in Harry’s direction
with everyone suddenly taking such an interest in their behaviour.

They get relieved of duty for the rest of the day at the end of lunch
which pretty much has Louis praising every deity he’s ever heard of.
He doesn’t think he can take much more suspicious glances. Anne
gives Harry her keys once they reach the carpark, telling him she and
Gemma are going to stay with the girls and Dave to help out a little
while longer.

Harry doesn’t hesitate, quickly grabbing Louis’ wrist and dragging him
over to his mum’s car after a hastily waved goodbye.

“That was brutal,” Harry exclaims as soon as they’re safely inside the
car and out of range of eavesdroppers. He slouches back in his seat,
head thumping against the headrest, and closes his eyes as he lets out
a haggard sigh.

Again, Louis is reminded of what Harry did for him in the restaurant
and he’s suddenly sure that he can’t spend another moment not
touching him.

“Harry,” he says, voice strained with the effort of keeping his hands
to himself. “Start the car. Please.”

Harry cracks open an eye and looks at him curiously. “Why?”

Louis huffs and gives him an exasperated look. “Because, Harold, I’d
really like to kiss you very much a lot and I can’t do that when our
mums and sisters are standing a few feet away.”

Harry stares at him for a moment, mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ shape
before he seems to shake himself and hurries to put the key in the
ignition.
166
Louis bites his lip to hide his smile before he remembers he doesn’t
have to.

Harry drives them to a field. A field.

The one where teenagers go to underage drink, the one

where they went to underage drink when Harry was still sixteen and
Louis had turned eighteen but didn’t fancy drinking without him.

“Harry…why are we parked at this shitty field?”

“S’where the teenagers go to have snogging sessions, innit?” Harry

says, dimples denting his cheeks as he takes in Louis’ expression.
“You’re the one who said we missed out on all the stupid teenage
stuff.”

Louis looks at him incredulously until what’s happening actually sinks

in and then he unbuckles his belt. “Suppose our bedrooms are off
limits,” he comments idly, crawling over the console and into Harry’s
lap – which actually proves quite difficult with the steering wheel in
the way. “For god’s sake, Haz, move your seat back,” he huffs,
holding back a laugh at the way Harry’s eyes widen when he suddenly
finds himself with a lapful of Louis. “I’m trying to be seductive
here.”
“Very sexy,” Harry agrees dutifully, fitting one hand to Louis’ hip to
hold him in place and reaching down to pull the lever to push the seat
back with the other – which doesn’t actually end up going back all
that far. “Maybe we should go in the back seat though?” Harry
whispers on a laugh, just as Louis is about to slide their mouths
together. He has the worst timing.

Louis glares at him but climbs off his lap nonetheless and into the
backseat. Knowing them, Harry would probably accidentally ease off
167
the handbrake and send them hurtling into a tree. And wouldn’t that
be a fun way for their parents to find out they’re married?

Harry follows him with a mischievous grin, reversing their previous

positions and settling in Louis lap. “Much better,” he declares quietly,
darting down to connect their lips.

Louis rolls his eyes but allows himself to be drawn into the kiss,
bunching up the fabric of Harry’s bloody obscene sheer shirt between
his fingers.

He can feel Harry smirking against his mouth – smug little shit – and
no, that won’t do at all. He cranes his head, deepening the kiss right
before he swivels his hips just so; a little trick that always leaves Harry
breathless in a matter of seconds.

Sure enough, Harry breaks the kiss, plastering their foreheads

together and panting out a heavy breath before diving back in and
tangling his fingers in Louis’ hair. Louis lets Harry move him in
whatever direction he pleases, quite happy to content himself with
sending his hands travelling up over the expanse of Harry’s back – the
kind of feather light touches that always send shivers down Harry’s
spine.

Harry lets out a soft whine, shifting restlessly in Louis’ lap. “Missed
kissing you,” he murmurs, words slurred as he drags his lips over
Louis’ cheek and attaches his mouth to Louis’ jaw.

“S’only been…” Louis pauses, releasing a sharp breath when Harry

bites down hard on the underside of his jaw. “Only been a day,” he
trails off, arching his neck to give Harry better access and digging his
fingers into the soft flesh of Harry’s hips.

“Too long,” Harry complains, moving back up to kiss his lips again,
tongue hot and insistent against Louis’.
168
Louis nods feebly – the best he can manage without disconnecting
their mouths – and holds Harry’s hips in place to grind up against
him.

He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know why he feels so antsy, it

really has only been a day and they still slept in the same bed last night
but it’s just- something about not being able to touch Harry even
though he’s right there. Having to be around him and not reach out
and kiss him like he normally would, it’s making something itch
beneath his skin.

He needs to pulls Harry closer, needs to kiss him more thoroughly,

needs to dig his fingers in deeper when he clutches Harry’s waist.

“Definitely too long,” he agrees belatedly, the words coming out on

an exhale as he snakes a hand into Harry’s hair to give himself better
leverage. The way it sends another shiver rippling through Harry,
causing him to grind down again in Louis’ lap, definitely doesn’t go
unnoticed.

“When we get home,” Harry starts, voice coming out airy and soft
around the edges. “We’re not leaving our bed-“ he cuts off with a
groan when Louis bucks his hips up and Louis can’t help but feel a
little satisfied at Harry seeming to lose his train of thought.

“We’re not leaving our bed…?” he prompts, smirking at the way

Harry blinks rapidly before staring intently at Louis’ mouth.

Harry shakes his head, bringing his hands up to cup Louis’ jaw and
hold him in place. “We’re not leaving our bed for a week,” he
whispers, eyes flickering all over Louis’ face as he presses his thumb
against Louis’ bottom lip.

Louis’ lips part of their own accord, throat going dry at the look on
Harry’s face. All he can do is nod fervently before dragging Harry
169
back in for another kiss. Harry sinks into it, going pliant in his arms
and yes, this is how Louis loves him.

As carefully as he can, he shifts them, pressing Harry down on the

backseat and cradling the back of his head so he doesn’t bang it off
the door.

Harry smiles up at him, cheeks flushed and dimples on display, as he

slides one hand down the back of Louis’ jeans.

Louis sighs happily, lazily connecting their lips again and shifting
around until he can comfortably settle a leg between Harry’s. “Please
tell me you have lube,” he says, sounding to pretty close to begging
but he can’t find it in himself to care. It’s been over twenty-four hours
and they’re not gonna have another moment to themselves until
Harry sneaks into his hotel room tomorrow night.

Harry huffs a laugh against his mouth. “This is my mum’s car, Louis.
I’m hardly stashing lube in the glove compartment.”

“But-“ Louis whines, cut off by the way Harry uses the hand on his
ass to pull him down, pressing their crotches together.

Harry leans up, turning Louis’ head with his free hand until his lips
are pressed against Louis’ ear. “I could suck you off?” he suggests
instead and at any other time the self-satisfied tone would make Louis
scoff, right now it just sounds incredibly hot and has Louis
dangerously close to whimpering.

He’s just about to answer, is about to promise to return the favour,

when Harry’s phone rings.

Harry’s fucking. Phone. Rings.

170
Harry shifts to slide it out of his pocket but all he achieves is a slow
grind against Louis’ crotch that leaves Louis quivering and that’s not
fucking fair.
“Just a sec,” Harry admonishes, voice giggly, when Louis decides to
retaliate by kissing his neck. “Hello?”

Louis’ only a little bit proud of how breathy Harry’s voice sounds
when he answers. Through the speaker he hears Niall’s booming
reply and relaxes, content to carry on in his ministrations. Nothing
Niall hasn’t walked in on before.

“Hey Niall,” Harry replies airily and Louis’ honestly surprised he

hasn’t been reprimanded yet for continuing to mark up Harry’s neck.

“Oh you’re on your way?” Harry’s breaths are coming out harsher
now, his free hand winding its way into Louis’ hair to keep him in
place. Which suits him just fine, honestly. “Great, me and Lou will
meet you then.”

“Hmm?” Harry asks dazedly as Louis starts slowly grinding his hips
down again, fingers tightening in Louis’ hair. “I’m just-“ He cuts off
with a broken sound when Louis bites down hard on the side of his
throat, hastily pressing his phone into his shoulder so Niall doesn’t
hear.

Louis still catches the, “are you two fucking shagging right now?” being
indignantly yelled through the speaker though and he can’t help but
muffle a laugh against Harry’s neck. He slips the phone out of Harry’s
lax hand and holds it to his ear, biting his lip to control his smirk.
“Hey Nialler, we’ll meet you lot in an hour, yeah? Okay, bye.”

He drops the phone on the floor of the backseat once he’s sure he’s
ended the call and returns his focus to Harry who’s restlessly dragging
his hands up and down Louis’ sides.

171
“Now,” Louis grins, brushing Harry’s hair back off his forehead and
cupping his cheek, thumb sinking into his dimple. “Where were we?”

They meet the boys at Harry’s house an hour later, looking only
slightly more dishevelled than they did at lunch.

“So how are the best friends?!” Niall yells obnoxiously loudly when he
climbs out of Liam’s car, bounding over to hug them before punching
both of them on the arm. “That’s for fucking having sex while I was
on the phone,” he adds lowly, levelling them both with a glare that
doesn’t really look all that menacing.

Liam and Zayn follow at a more sedate pace but the smirks are still
evident on both their faces.

“Well, how badly have you fucked up so far?” Zayn asks, already
looking about ten seconds away from cracking up.

“It’s fine,” Louis insists, pouting maybe just a little.

“Now say that one more time with conviction,” Liam teases, even as
he goes to pull Harry in for a hug.

“It’s really fine,” Harry repeats, absently patting Liam’s back before
letting him go.

Niall appraises them for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re
lying,” he decides. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Louis swears.

172
Zayn looks between the two of them and his smile grows. “Nah,
something happened. What was it?”

Harry looks down at his shoes – which he always does when he’s
guilty of something – and mutters, “We may have forgotten about our
tattoos.”

Niall, Liam and Zayn are silent for approximately five seconds before
breaking down in fits of laughter.

“How could you forget?” Niall crows, clutching his stomach as he

cackles manically.

“All you’ve bloody done is talk about them for the last three
months,” Zayn adds, snickering into his hand and shaking his head.

Liam, at least, has the decency to try and stop laughing but a chuckle
still bubbles out of him every few seconds.

Louis huffs, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “So it slipped our

minds!”

“Wait,” Zayn says suddenly. “Someone noticed. Who noticed?”

“Gemma and Lottie,” Harry replies, cringing at the memory. “In

front of our mums.”

That sets the three of them off all over again and Louis just rolls his
eyes, leaving them and their hysterics on the footpath and going into
Harry’s house.

Harry follows him immediately, not hesitating to attach himself to

Louis’ back and wrap his arms around his middle since Robin is at
work and the girls are still out. Louis sinks back in his grasp, mouth

173
lifting up in a smile when Harry smudges a kiss on his cheek. It’s only
a few moments later when he hears the front door close and three
sets of footsteps follow them into the living room.

“Okay,” Liam announces, clearing his throat. “It’s out of our systems.
We’ll stop now.”

Harry snorts like he doesn’t believe them, guiding Louis over to the
armchair. He lets his arms fall away long enough to sit down before
he’s pulling Louis into his lap; by the time Louis’ found a comfortable
position the boys have all dropped down to sit on the sofa.

“So what can we do to help?” Zayn offers benignly and Louis raises
his eyebrows.

“You’ll help?” he asks sceptically.

“Oh well you’re definitely idiots for not just telling them the truth
from day one,” Niall says lightly. “But yes, we’ll cover your arses this
weekend. So what d’you need?”

“Just- maybe help us out if they ask something we can’t explain?”

Harry suggests, face scrunching up uncomfortably - no doubt at the
thought of all their little mishaps in the last twenty-four hours.

“And like, pinch us or something if we’re looking at each other like

we’re in love,” Louis adds because they really don’t know how to tone
that down. “Or doing anything extra coupley.”

“…So you want us to convince people you’re not in love?” Liam asks
dubiously.

“Not possible,” Niall disagrees immediately, crossing his arms in

defiance.

174
“It’s just for a couple of days, Nialler,” Louis pleads.

“But- but just look at you!” Niall exclaims, gesturing wildly at Harry and
Louis.
Which- yeah okay, so maybe Louis is currently resting his temple
against Harry’s and Harry’s arm is wound securely around his waist
but no one’s here to see them like this.

“Well we obviously don’t sit like this in front of our parents,” Harry
points out but Louis knows Harry would very happily sit like this in
front of their parents if he could.

“We’ll help,” Liam cuts in before Niall can start up another rant. “It’s
just the rehearsal dinner tonight and the wedding tomorrow anyway,
right? Everyone’s gonna be too hungover at brunch on Sunday to pay
attention to you and everyone will be focused on Dave and Lottie
tomorrow. Everything’ll be fine.”

“Remember that optimism when you’re trying to explain to Harry’s

mum why he has a big, fat love bite on his neck that I’m betting
wasn’t there yesterday,” Zayn says cheerfully, clapping Liam on the
back and sending Louis and Harry an eyebrow raise that’s entirely too
suggestive.

Harry’s hand instantly slaps over his neck, face flushing red. Louis
just kisses his cheek and whispers that he looks lovely.

They’re definitely going to need to steal some of Gemma’s concealer

later.

The rehearsal dinner is at seven and while most of Louis’ family –

namely all the girls except Doris – stuff the car full to set up in the

175
hotel room for the next morning Louis stays back at the house with
Dan and the youngest twins.

He’s just finishing buttoning up his shirt when Dan knocks on his
open door. “I’ve got the twins ready if you’re good to go?”

Louis nods, giving himself one last onceover in the mirror before
spinning around to face Dan. “Let me just grab my jacket.” It’s a
blazer Harry bought him when he was shopping a few months ago.
He insisted it would hug Louis’ frame perfectly. (He was right.)

“So…you and Harry, huh?” Dan asks as they’re making their way
downstairs.

Louis splutters, trying to come up with an excuse but Dan only

laughs, placing a calming hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Louis,” he
assures. “I can tell for whatever reason you’re not ready to tell your
mum so I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Louis nods, can only manage a weak smile as they reach the end of
the stairs and he squeaks out an, “I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

Dan rolls his eyes but doesn’t press. He does however, pause on the
last step and force Louis to stop with him. “You should know your
mum is going to wholeheartedly support you no matter what.”

Louis nods, inexplicably feeling a lump form in his throat. “I know.”

Dan nods once before calling out to the twins and disappearing into
the living room to wrangle them out to the car.

When they get to the hotel the function room where the reception is
being held tomorrow is already buzzing with people. Dan leaves him

176
at the door, guiding the twins over to Jay who Louis spots talking to
his nan. He’ll have to pop over and say hello later.

All of a sudden he feels a body at his back and a whispered, “Hello,”

is being breathed against his ear.

Louis smiles – his Pavlovian reaction to Harry – and turns around.

“Hi yourself,” he says, resisting the urge to reach out and straighten
the lapels of Harry’s jacket.

“You look handsome,” Harry compliments and Louis spots his hands
twitching at his sides. Looks like he’s not the only one itching to
reach out.

“So do you,” Louis replies, eyes raking over Harry’s frame. His
trousers are sinfully tight and his shirt has far too many buttons
unbuttoned – not that Louis is complaining. He’s topped the look off
with what Louis affectionately refers to as his prince jacket: a black
military style jacket with gold detailing around the sides and hem. In
short, he looks fucking delectable.

Harry beams like he knows exactly what Louis’ thinking before he

winks and mouths, “Later,” just as they’re joined by Gemma.

“Boys,” she greets magnanimously but she has a glass of champagne

for Louis so she can stay.

“How come you didn’t bring me champagne?” he demands of Harry

and Gemma snorts into her glass.

Harry already looks defeated – he never won a single battle when

Louis and Gemma teamed up when they were younger. He opens his
mouth, ready to defend himself before seemingly giving up and
sighing. “Maybe I was so excited to see you I forgot?” he offers
hopefully and Gemma’s snort becomes a full-on laugh.
177
“You two have gotten weirder since moving to London,” she
observes, taking another swig of her drink.

“Have not,” Harry insists, affronted, and there’s something so

incredibly amusing about watching him revert to his six-year-old self
whenever he’s around his big sister.

Gemma, proving she’s not much better, opts for sticking her tongue
out at him.

Louis is just considering the merits of involving himself in this

particular sibling brawl when the wedding planner – he thinks her
name is Carol? – calls everyone to attention and requests they take
their seats.

“Come on, Lou,” Harry says suddenly, catching his elbow. “I’m
sitting next to you.”

“Oddly presumptuous of you, Harold,” Louis remarks even as he

slips his arm out of Harry’s grasp and settles his hand on the small of
Harry’s back to guide him.

Harry only looks back at him and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “The
place cards say so,” he drawls but he’s got his fond, “my husband is so
silly” look on his face. Louis fucking loves that look.

“Well then lead the way, darling,” Louis says grandly.

Harry rolls his eyes again but his smile is so big he’s quite possibly
glowing.

They’re definitely gonna play footsie when they sit down.

178
On the one hand, tonight is a rehearsal for Dave and Lottie. A chance
to work out all the little problems and make sure the ceremony and
reception run smoothly tomorrow.

On the other hand, tonight is a rehearsal for Harry and Louis. Given
the only people here are Louis’ immediate family, Harry’s immediate
family, Dave’s immediate family and a few of their friends; it’s the
perfect way to test the waters. To get their stories straight before
tomorrow when literally everyone they know will be there to engage
them in countless conversations about what they’re doing with their
lives.

It’s going mostly okay so far.

Louis’ family is far too preoccupied with Lottie, as is Dave’s family

with him. It’s generally the family friends they need to watch out for.

The dinner itself is fine – Louis is sitting between Phoebe and Harry
and his thirteen year old sister really doesn’t care how he and Harry
behave around each other. The lads are sitting one table over,
alternating between giving them suggestive looks and laughing
unashamedly every time they lock eyes. Useless, the lot of them.

It isn’t until they’re in the middle of their main course that anyone
even engages Harry or Louis in conversation - they’d been quite
content so far just talking between themselves or listening to Daisy
and Phoebe talk about how Lou plans to style their hair tomorrow.
Louis hardly bats an eyelid when Harry takes the carrots from his
own plate and deposits them onto Louis’ before stealing one of Louis’
potatoes. Consummate food stealer, Harry is. Louis doesn’t mind
sharing though.

“Ugh look at them,” Gemma grumbles from Harry’s other side,

throwing a look at Anne. “Like a proper married couple.”

179
Louis chokes on the glass of wine he’d been in the middle of
drinking.

“What?” Harry splutters, fork clattering onto his plate. The hand that
absentmindedly comes up to pat Louis’ back while he’s coughing
probably doesn’t help their case.

“You’re so domesticated,” she grouses, gesturing between them with her

fork. Louis can only watch in horror as Anne hides her smile behind
her glass of wine. “It’s disgusting.”

“No we’re not,” Louis protests hastily, throat still feeling raw. He
clears it as best he can and quickly throws a panicked glance around
the room in a vain attempt to seek help.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Anne reassures, an amused expression

appearing on her face. “You’re just very…settled with each other. It’s
natural when you’ve been friends so long.”

Louis glances at Harry out of the corner of his eye and watches his
mouth work as he tries to come up with a response.

“We-“ Louis starts and then stops. He has no idea how he’s meant to
finish that sentence. “We’re just used to each other, I suppose.”

Harry’s gaze flickers to him at that and he smiles softly, making Louis’
own lips quirk up in answer as he gently nudges his knee against
Harry’s under the table.

“Used to each other, acting like you’ve been married for twenty years,
what’s the difference really?” Gemma teases but there’s something in
her expression that wasn’t there before, an affectionate tilt to her
smile.

180
Harry laughs - it only sounds a little bit forced – and looks back to his
sister. “Not my fault he can’t take care of himself, he needs me.”

“Excuse me, Harold,” Louis exclaims, affronted. “If anyone’s taking

care of anyone, it’s me looking after you.”

Harry looks back to him with a cheeky grin, eyes lighting up at the
scowl on Louis’ face. “I’m sorry, who cooks dinner?”

“Well, you but-“

“And who does the washing?”

“Okay, also you but-“

“And who cleans the flat?”

“You,” Louis huffs, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “But I do

important things! I make us tea and I make sure to record your shows
for you if you’re coming home late and I always buy more milk when
we run out.”

Somewhere around the middle of Louis’ rant Harry’s face changes,

morphing into something fond and tender and it’s probably a good
thing he’s currently facing Louis and not his mum and sister. “You do
lots of important things, babe,” Harry says placatingly before he
freezes, eyes widening and mouth agape at the slip-up.

Louis, for his part, is just trying not to react too visibly.

And where the fuck are Niall, Zayn and Liam? Aren’t they meant to
help them with situations like this?!

181
A look at Anne and Gemma tells Louis all he needs to know about
whether or not they heard Harry’s little term of endearment – their
smiles are positively beaming.

“I think I need to go to the bathroom,” Harry says suddenly, setting

his napkin next to his plate and excusing himself. Once he’s gone, the
sheer force of Anne and Gemma’s attention is focused on Louis and
that’s just not something he’s equipped to deal with without vodka.

He waits as long as he possibly can before also excusing himself to

the rest room, ignoring the two sets of eyes boring into his back as he
darts away from the table.

When he pushes the door to the bathroom open he sees Harry

standing with his hands braced on the countertop, staring blankly at
the mirror.

“Having an existential crisis, love?” Louis asks lightly, letting the door
close behind him as he makes his way over to the sink. Harry’s
reflection smiles back at him when Louis places a hand on his back.

“Just a little bit,” Harry replies weakly, the laugh he lets out sounding
slightly hysterical.

Louis chuckles, dropping his chin onto Harry’s shoulder as the other
boy straightens up. “Two more days,” he murmurs like a promise.

Harry nods at him in the mirror before craning his neck to kiss Louis’
hair. “Do you have to stay home tonight?”

Louis sighs, shrugging slightly, “Probably shouldn’t leave Dan to deal

with the twins alone. All the girls are staying here tonight.”

“Okay,” Harry says despondently, sagging slightly when Louis wraps

his arms around his middle.
182
“We could say we’re out with the lads and sneak off for a while?”
Louis suggests, waggling his eyebrows when Harry meets his gaze in
the mirror.

Harry just huffs a laugh, turning around In Louis’ arms and leaning
back against the sink. “I dunno,” he drawls, dragging out the “o”.
“We had some pretty close calls today, should we risk it?”

“That depends,” Louis answers idly, resisting the urge to just fall
forward and kiss Harry senseless when he draws his arms up around
Louis’ shoulder, fingers twirling in the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Think you can last eight hours without me?”

“Probably not,” Harry laughs, about to say something else when

someone suddenly bursts through the door.

They jump apart instantly but relax when they see it’s only Niall.
“Jesus christ, Horan,” Louis huffs, clutching his chest and reminding
himself to take a deep breath. Once he feels sufficiently calmed down
he steps back into Harry’s space.

Niall ignores their panicked noises completely, blustering into the

bathroom and letting the door swing shut behind them. “There you
two are!” he exclaims, rolling his eyes so hard Louis wouldn’t be
surprised if they got stuck like that. “Do you know how long you’ve
been in here?! No wonder you needed our fucking help, half the room
probably thinks you’re shagging in here right now!”

“Not true!” Harry argues, crossing his arms defiantly but his pout is
so terribly adorable Louis just wants to kiss his cheek.

“Haz, yours and Tommo’s family make up half the room right now
and they all suspect so yes, very true,” he scoffs.

183
Harry has the decency to look sheepish at that and Louis himself can’t
help looking down, feeling a bit cowed.

“For god’s sake, will you detach from each other for five minutes
please?” Niall pleads. “You’re the ones that came up with this stupid
idea in the first place,” he reminds, raising his eyebrows at both of
them like he’s daring them to disagree. But when neither of them say
anything a smile actually appears on his face. “Look, why don’t we go
for a pint, yeah? Just the five of us, away from the prying eyes and
you can hold hands all you want.”

Louis isn’t gonna lie, the thought of alone time with Harry – real
alone time, not the constant crushing fear of someone walking in on
them kind of alone time – sounds incredibly appealing, especially with
the protective bubble of the lads with them. It’s been a day and a half
and Louis is already drained from trying to stop himself from
reaching out for Harry at any given moment.

A drink with the boys to regroup before tomorrow might be just what
they need.

The way Harry’s eyes light up at the suggestion says he’s probably
thinking the same thing.

“Let’s go, Nialler,” Louis says decisively. “You get Payno and Zayn.
We’ll say goodbye to our mums.”

Niall mock salutes him before breaking out into a grin and dashing
out the bathroom door. As soon as he’s gone Louis spins on his heel
to face Harry again, holding his hand out, palm up. Harry takes it
happily, his fingers tightening around Louis’ before they loosen again.
“You wanna slip out first and I’ll follow?” he suggests bashfully,
dimple sinking into his cheek when Louis laughs.

184
Louis kisses his cheek and steps away, pausing at the door before he
heads back out. “Meet you at the car, love.”

By the time they all make it outside Niall already has the taxi waiting
and is camped out in the passenger seat. Harry and Louis direct the
taxi driver to the pub they usually frequent whenever they come
home for a visit and don’t let go of each other’s hands for the entire
drive over.

Niall bounds up to the bar as soon as they’re through the door,

announcing that he’s getting the first round.

“We’re only having one bloody round,” Louis mutters darkly as Zayn
guides them to an empty table in the corner. “I have to be up at arse
o’clock in the morning tomorrow.”

Harry just shoots him a grin and pats his shoulder consolingly before
tucking Louis under his arm and ushering him into the booth. Louis
decides to stay under Harry’s arm for a while because Harry’s warm
and his shoulder’s comfy and in the perfect position to rest his head
against and Louis’ just really fucking missed his boy, okay?

It honestly hasn’t even been that bad. They’ve probably spent longer
apart when they’re in London and their work schedules don’t link up
but maybe it’s the wedding fever or something because Louis literally
cannot cope with Harry being more than a few inches away from him
right now.

Harry, for his part, kisses the top of Louis’ head when he leans against
him and settles for picking up his pint with his free hand.

It takes Louis a few minutes to notice Zayn watching them; too busy
letting the tension drain out of his body the longer Harry holds him
185
close. When Louis finally does look up and meet his friend’s eyes
from across the table he sees an inscrutable expression on his face.

“What?” Louis asks, drawing Harry and Niall out of the conversation
they’d been having and making Liam look up.

Zayn seems to steel himself for a moment, like he’s debating whether
he should say whatever he wants to say, before he begins to talk. “Are
you sure you’re doing the right thing?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, it’s just- keeping this a secret seems to be kind of taking a toll
on you,” Zayn continues carefully and Louis feels Harry stiffen next
to him.

“I mean, of course we don’t want to lie,” Louis answers after a beat.

“But it’s kind of bad timing, don’t you think?”

“Come on, Lou,” Liam cuts in beseechingly. “Do you really think
your families would be that angry? Like, yeah they’ll be pissed and
you’ll both probably get a right bollocking for keeping it a secret for
so long but then they’ll just say they love you and demand to see the
pictures.”

“We can’t just-“

“You can,” Niall insists. “And I get why you’re nervous and I get that
you don’t want to take away from Lottie’s big day but you’re seriously
underestimating how much your families love you.”

No one says anything for a moment until Harry clears his throat.
“Let’s not talk about it tonight, yeah? We can figure it out tomorrow.”

186
The boys don’t disagree but they don’t exactly look happy about it
either. When conversation picks back up around them again Louis
curls his hand into a fist and gently presses his thumb into Harry’s
thigh.

Harry’s only response is to let his arm slip from Louis’ shoulder to his
waist and press his thumb against Louis’ hip.

“Thank you,” Louis mouths when they make eye contact.

Harry just gives him a smile and a “what can you do?” sort of shrug.
Louis definitely doesn’t deserve him. Any other husband would’ve
probably left him by now for making them carry on with such a
ridiculous scheme. But here Harry is, defending him, helping him,
protecting him. He’s been nothing short of perfect since they arrived.

Seemingly sensing that Louis is still staring at him Harry meets his
gaze again, eyebrow lifting slightly in question. Louis replies by
leaning in and brushing their lips together, mumbling, “I love you,”
into Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s frowning a bit when he pulls away but he still darts in to peck
Louis’ lips again and say, “I love you,” back.

“Alright lovebirds, get a room,” Niall complains loudly from his spot
on the other side of Harry, throwing a beer mat at them.

Louis fires it back at him with perfect aim and the tension breaks as
they all start laughing like a bunch of schoolkids.

With the mood considerably lighter the night passes much more
pleasantly. They only have two drinks each – mostly because Louis
threatens to dismember anyone that shows up to his sister’s wedding
hungover. But with the champagne from the rehearsal dinner still
swirling around in their systems Harry is just on the right side of tipsy
187
which means he’s just on the right side of clingy which is exactly how
Louis loves him.

By the time they’re walking home – after saying goodbye to Liam,

Niall and Zayn outside the pub since the lucky fuckers get to stay in
the hotel tonight while Harry and Louis both stay at home – Harry’s
hanging off him. Sleepily wrapping himself around Louis like a koala.

“Are you sure you can’t stay at mine?” Harry whines, nuzzling Louis’
neck and making the art of walking extraordinarily difficult.

“I’m sure, babe,” Louis sighs, unable to help the little bit of
disappointment that creeps into his voice. “I need to help Dan get the
twins ready in the morning. And bring whatever the girls inevitably
forgot to the hotel for them.”

Harry sighs long-sufferingly but doesn’t protest, allowing Louis to

guide him down the silent street. “Don’t like it when you’re not
there,” he mumbles and it takes everything Louis has not to
completely bypass Harry’s house and bring him back to his own.

“Yeah but you’re gonna sneak into my hotel room tomorrow night,
right?” he prompts, forcing a lighter tone. It has the desired effect
when Harry laughs and pulls away to look at him properly.

They’re standing in Harry’s front garden now and it feels inexplicably

like the end of a first date.

“Well, are you gonna walk me to my door?” Harry drawls, proving

once again that they spend too much time together and their telepathy
has reached creepy heights.

Still, Louis obliges and begins the walk up the path, swinging their
joined hands between them. Once they reach the porch Louis turns

188
to him again, biting back a grin as he takes a step closer. “So, do you
kiss on the first date, Harry Styles?”

“I married you on our first date,” Harry reminds, rolling his eyes
exaggeratedly but the affection is pouring off him.

“Mm, that was fun,” Louis hums, breaking into a giggle when Harry
huffs and uses their still joined hands to yank Louis forward and into
his arms.

“Shut up and kiss me, you fool.”

Louis groans – that was Harry’s fucking go-to line when they were
teenagers and he had a crush on someone, Louis’ in love with a
fucking idiot – but allows himself to be pulled into the kiss, arms
sliding easily around Harry’s neck. He gives Harry the kind of first
kiss he probably should’ve given him all those years ago when they
were teenagers had he been smart enough to ask Harry on a date back
then.

Kissing Harry is never boring and definitely up there as one of Louis’

favourite things to do but there’s something about this kiss.
Something sweet and innocent about it, like they’re really giving their
teenage years a do-over and starting from scratch. He has butterflies
in his tummy and he feels breathless even though it’s probably one of
the most tame kisses they’ve shared in a long time. And it’s just- it
makes him feel giddy, makes him feel like he’s falling in love with
Harry all over again.

They eventually pull away because they have to, foreheads tilting
together as they take a minute to get their breath back.

“Wow,” Harry exhales, sounding slightly awed and Louis can’t help
but laugh, pressing forward to steal another kiss.

189
“Am I a good first date or what?” he teases, eyes crinkling when he
feels Harry laugh against him.

“The best,” Harry still swears solemnly even if he’s fighting back a
smile the entire time. “Call me when you get home?” he requests.
“Wanna talk to you while I fall asleep.”

“Promise, love,” Louis whispers, leaning in to kiss Harry’s cheek once

more before taking a step back.

Harry’s eyes are sparkling in the porch light and his smile is positively
dazzling and Louis is sure he’s the luckiest man in the world.

“Night, Haz,” he calls, starting to walk backwards down the steps

because he can’t quite convince himself to turn away yet.

“Night Lou,” Harry smiles serenely, leaning against his front door
with his hand poised on the handle.

Louis doesn’t walk away until he’s inside with the door closed behind
him.

He keeps good on his promise and calls Harry’s number as soon as

he’s tucked up in bed.

“Hi boo.” Harry’s voice is soft and tinny through the receiver and
fuck, he sounds like home.

“Hi baby,” Louis replies affectionately, feeling the corners of his lips
tug up before he can even think about stopping himself. “Wanna talk
or wanna sleep?”

190
“Sleep, I think,” Harry murmurs tiredly. He always was a sleepy
drunk. “Can you just talk to me for a while though? Wanna listen to
your voice.”

Louis’ smile grows as he whispers, “Okay.” He’s not sure how long
he talks for, mostly just mumbling nonsensical things while Harry
hums along but it’s nice. If he closes his eyes he can pretend Harry’s
in bed with him. Just one night. It’s just one night.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally hears

Harry’s breathing even out on the other end of the line.

If he decides to let the sound lull him to sleep rather than hanging up
the phone like he should, well, no one but Harry has to know.

The morning is absolute chaos.

Rather than being woken by his alarm, he’s woken up by a phone call
from his mother an hour before his alarm is even meant to go off. In
the following two hours he receives a total of seven calls from his
mum, Fizzy and the twins respectively – Lottie must be freaking out
too much to call – and that’s all before he even finishes his breakfast.
After that it’s a flurry of showering, helping Dan get the twins
dressed, fielding even more phone calls and trying to get himself ready.

By the time he manages to put on his suit and make his hair
presentable it’s time to leave. Throwing his overnight bag in the boot,
he rounds the car again to help Dan strap the twins in before
climbing into the passenger seat.

“You ready?” Dan asks conversationally as he pulls out of their street.

191
“To see my baby sister get married? Do you think it’d be appropriate
to threaten Dave on his wedding day?”

Dan huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You can try if you feel like
having Lottie cut your bollocks off.”

“She’d do it too,” Louis grumbles, ignoring the smirk Dan throws

him.

“I’m really happy for her though,” he admits a moment later. “She
deserves this.”

“Yeah she does,” Dan agrees, a smile breaking out across his face.
“Your wedding day’s the happiest day of your life, innit?”

Louis stares down at his hands, at his bare ring finger, and thinks
about their rings tucked away safely on Harry’s necklace. Feeling his
heart beat a little bit faster in his chest, he nods. “Apparently so,” he
replies softly.

Dan doesn’t say anything else but Louis thinks he catches him
watching him out of the corner of his eye. The rest of the journey is
spent mostly in silence with the exception of attempting to stop the
twins from fussing and replying to the odd text from Harry.

From Harry: Where’s my suit selfies????? You promised :(((((

To Harry: Harold, we will literally see each other in ten minutes
From Harry: Fine :/// …so scale of 1-10, how handsome do u look?
To Harry: 10 obviously, gotta live up to my husband, don’t I?
From Harry: Flattery will get you nowhere, Lewis
To Harry: Quite sure we both know that’s not true ;)
From Harry: How hard is it gonna be to sneak a kiss once we’re at the
ceremony???
To Harry: We’ll scope out the area when we get there and make a plan ;)
From Harry: It’s not a spy mission, Lou! …See you soon <3
192
 To Harry: See you soon, love :*

Louis pockets his phone just as they pull up to the church. They’re
some of the first to arrive – as they should be, Louis’ mum would
probably skin them alive if they weren’t – so there aren’t too many
people milling around just yet.

Louis offers to take the twins off Dan’s hands so he can check in with
the wedding planner and Dave to make sure everything is going
according to plan. The bridal party shouldn’t be here for another
twenty minutes or so and Louis knows if he’s got multiple texts off his
mother, Dan probably has double that.

With one twin holding a hand each, Louis begins to make his way to
the front of the church where a few of the guests are already
congregating in small groups. He’s greeted with numerous kind smiles
as he passes relatives and a nod or a wave from whatever friends of
Lottie and Dave have already arrived.

He still can’t help releasing a sigh of relief when he sees Niall, Liam
and Zayn chatting together off to the side. Guiding the twins over, he
comes to a stop next to them, making sure to keep a hand on both
Ernie and Doris’ shoulders to hold them in place. “Lads,” he greets.
“Any hangovers?”

“Please, Tommo,” Niall scoffs, patting his stomach heartily. “Got a

liver of steel, me.”

Louis just rolls his eyes and directs his attention to the other two.

“All good, promise,” Zayn swears, Liam nodding along emphatically.

Nice to know they took his threat of dismemberment seriously.

“Where’s Harry?” Liam asks, eyes scanning the carpark behind Louis.

193
“On his way,” Louis shrugs. “Should be here in a few minutes.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth when Anne’s car pulls into
the lot. Anne and Robin step out of the car first, waving at the boys
as they make their way to where Louis’ grandad is chatting with Dan’s
sister.

Harry and Gemma follow, Gemma throwing a quick nod in their

direction before she hurries to greet Lou and Lux. Harry pauses to
smile at Lou and pull a funny face at Lux but immediately bounds
over to Louis and the boys afterwards.

“Boys,” Harry grins, hip-checking Louis before bending down to

ruffle Ernie’s hair and compliment Doris’ dress. She instantly latches
onto him, making Harry laugh delightedly and sweep her into his
arms. Louis doesn’t have butterflies in his tummy, he doesn’t.

“Ready to watch your sister-in-law get hitched, Haz?” Niall asks,

eyebrows waggling ridiculously.

Harry only beams though, nodding his head enthusiastically. “She’s

gonna have the best day,” he says, voice adopting dreamy-like quality
– he’s practically swooning.

“Well, you would know,” Zayn remarks, smirking when Louis glares
at him. They’re never going to be allowed to forget it.

“We already said we’re sorry we didn’t invite-“

Zayn just laughs, waving a hand to dismiss him. “I’m joking, chill out,
Lou.”

“Besides,” Liam adds casually. “Your parents are gonna force you to
have another ceremony and we’ll get invited that one so we’re not
worried.”

194
Louis’ eyebrows shoot up in disbelief and Harry snorts, adjusting
Doris on his hip. “Oh we are, are we?”

Niall circles around the group, throwing his arms over Harry and
Louis’ shoulders. “Oh lads,” he laments dramatically. “So young, so
naïve. You have no idea what’s coming, do you?”

“What d’you mean?” Louis demands, sparing a glance at Ernie who

already seems to be fussing in his little suit.

“You think you can just tell your parents, put up with the cold
shoulder for a while, and that’ll be it?” Zayn asks disbelievingly.

“Mate, come on,” Liam reasons, expression definitely bordering on

incredulous.

Louis looks between the three of them before locking eyes with
Harry, who seems just as puzzled as him, and gives up with a groan.
“Can we discuss this later? We have a wedding to attend.”

Thankfully, when he checks his watch they do actually have to head

inside – the ceremony’s meant to be starting in about fifteen minutes
and he still needs to get the twins back to Dan and Dave; Doris is the
flower girl and Ernie is the ring bearer - very important jobs.

“Whatever you say, Tommo,” Niall responds blithely, clapping both

him and Harry on the back before letting go. As a group they make
their way into the church, with the lads pausing inside the door to talk
to the girl directing people to their seats

“Haz, help me find Dan?” Louis requests, glancing back at Harry

who’s in the middle of fixing the bow in Doris’ hair.

“’Course, babe,” Harry replies, low enough that probably only Liam,
Niall and Zayn can hear.
195
They find Dan at the end of the aisle, talking quietly to the priest and
the best man. “Presenting a ring bearer and a flower girl, reporting for
duty,” Louis announces, setting Ernest on his feet while Harry puts
Doris down next to him.

“Aw so nice of you and Harry to volunteer, Louis,” Dan smirks,

catching both twins by the hand so they don’t run off.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis retorts sarcastically – he still has to bite the inside
of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at Harry’s little giggle.
“We’re gonna sit down, let us know if you need anything before mum
and the girls arrive, yeah?”

“Will do, thanks Louis!”

Louis just nods, hand finding the small of Harry’s back to lead him
away. He immediately guides them to the first pew but Harry
hesitates, causing him to pause. “What’s wrong?”

“The first row is for you and your family,” Harry explains, chewing
his lip anxiously.

Louis rolls his eyes exasperatedly – this boy, honestly – and tugs on
Harry’s sleeve to get him to move. “You are family, Haz.”
“Yeah, but they don’t know that.”
With a quick glance around the room to make sure no one’s watching
them, Louis steps forward and into Harry’s space. “Love,” he
murmurs, voice hushed. “Wedding certificate or not, you are and
always have been a part of my family. Lottie would be offended if
you didn’t sit with us.”

Harry gets his bashful smile on his face - the one Louis always loves
to chase away with kisses until his dimples flash - and his cheeks
pinken just a bit but he nods, allowing Louis to pull him over to their
seats.
196
Once they’re seated Harry nudges him, voice about twelve octaves
too low as he mutters, “Did I mention how gorgeous you look?”

“Harold, we are in a church,” Louis admonishes, exaggeratedly placing

a hand over his heart and fixing Harry with a scandalised expression.

Harry just elbows him, cheeks turning pinker as he mumbles for

Louis to shut up.

“Just teasing, love,” Louis soothes, bumping Harry’s shoulder with

his own to make him look up. “You look beautiful.”

It makes Harry’s entire expression soften and there’s a moment where

he sways like he’s considering leaning in for a kiss before he
remembers he’s not supposed to and puts some distance between
them with a helpless smile. Louis just settles for pressing his thumb
into Harry’s thigh like he did the night before. The blinding grin it
elicits is enough to settle him again.

The church fills up within minutes and before Louis knows it, Dan
and his mum are taking their seats next to himself and Harry – while
Anne, Robin and Gemma sit behind them with the rest of Louis’
family and the lads sit behind them – and then Daisy and Phoebe are
leading Ernie and Doris up the aisle.

Louis will admit to feeling a little choked up at the sight of his baby
sisters looking all grown up in their bridesmaid dresses. Fizzy follows
down the aisle next, looking elegant as ever in her dress before taking
her spot next to the twins on the altar. When Lottie comes through
the doors at the end of the aisle Louis’ eyes instantly sting with tears
and he hears Harry let out a quiet gasp next to him.

She looks stunning, with her curls cascading down her shoulders
under her veil and a blinding smile on her face. Louis is so happy for
her.
197
The ceremony goes off without a hitch with one too many guests –
himself included – shedding a few tears. Harry’s a mess beside him,
dabbing at his eyes with his fingers until Louis offers him the tissue
he’d been using to wipe his own. Harry just laughs under his breath
and accepts it with a mouthed, “Thank you.”

And there’s a moment – just a little moment – where Louis feels a

pang of something akin to jealousy. He doesn’t regret how he and
Harry got married. It’ll always be the most beautiful, perfect day of
his life but there’s a part of him that wishes they’d had this. Wishes he
could’ve stood up in front of everyone he cared most about in the
world and told them all how much he’s in love with his boy. Wishes
they could’ve kissed while everyone cheered, and taken pictures with
all their friends and family, and had their first dance as a married
couple.

He doesn’t regret what they did or how they did it, that doesn’t mean
he doesn’t wish he couldn’t have given Harry a special day like this
too.

He doesn’t dwell on it for too long because Lottie and Dave are
saying their vows and Harry’s thumb is suddenly resting against his
knee and Louis’ throat feels tight all over again.

By the time the ceremony ends Louis feels sufficiently emotionally

drained but also just really, really happy. Looking over at his mum, he
finds her laughing thickly as she checks her makeup in her compact
mirror.

“Alright mum?” Louis checks, ignoring the way his own voice sounds
a little rough.

“Mm,” she hums, laughing again before snapping her mirror shut.
“Consider this a preview of what I’m gonna be like at your wedding,
Lou.”
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Guilt sits heavily in Louis’ stomach as he feels his reply die in his
throat. Harry’s gentle hand is instantly settling on the small of his
back, subtly rubbing small soothing circles through the fabric of his
jacket to stop Louis from tensing up.

He’s luckily saved from having to say anything at all when Doris starts
tugging on his mum’s dress and asking to go to the bathroom.

“Let’s go outside, Lou,” Harry murmurs as soon as Jay’s distracted,

taking his hand off Louis’ back and pushing himself up from his seat.
He flashes a smile at Anne, Robin and Gemma behind them before
nodding to the boys, signalling to them where they’re headed.

Harry doesn’t allow them to get waylaid by any guests, deftly guiding
them through the crowds until they’re out in the fresh air again. Louis
feels a little bad about not hugging Lottie just yet but he thinks he
needs some air before he can face that again.

“Okay?” Harry asks quietly once they’re around the corner of the
church, away from the crowds spilling out through the main doors.

Louis nods, closing his eyes as he leans back against the wall. “Just a
lot, y’know?” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

Harry’s hands catch around his wrists, pulling them away from his
face so he can press his forehead to Louis’. “Breathe, Lou.”

Louis nods again, letting out a shuddery exhale as he feels Harry’s

hands slip away from his wrists and fit to his hips.

“We’ll tell them soon and everything will be okay,” Harry promises,
thumbs drawing patterns on his hips like he did in the church. “Just
focus on being happy for Lottie today, yeah? That’s all that matters.”

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“Yeah,” Louis replies weakly, bringing his arms up around Harry to
pull him into a crushing hug. What would he do without him? “Thank
you,” he adds. “For this. For everything.”

“For better or worse, right?” Harry responds with a crooked smile,

kissing Louis’ cheek before letting him go. “Come on, let’s go back
around the front. You need to hug your sister and I need to hug my
sister-in-law.”

Louis finds himself grinning at the thought. He likes the sound of

that.

After the photographer takes approximately ten million pictures of

the wedding party and ten million more pictures of both Lottie and
Dave with their families, the pair disappear into a car with the
photographer to take their solo shots.

Most of the guests have left by then, already making their way to the
hotel where the wedding reception is being held, leaving behind Louis
and his immediate family. Harry had wanted to stay and wait for him
but neither of them could come up with a justifiable reason for why
he would need to. Instead he grudgingly got in the car with Gemma
and his parents, promising Louis he’d see him later.

It means Louis is left to squish into Dan’s people carrier with his
mum, his sisters and Ernie to make his way to the hotel.

“The ceremony was so beautiful, wasn’t it?” Louis’ mum is gushing in

the front seat, Dan making a noise of agreement as he pulls out of the
carpark.

“Oh mum, don’t,” Fizzy begs from where she’s sandwiched between
Louis and Daisy. “I don’t need to start crying again.”
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“Wouldn’t want to ruin your makeup, Fizz,” Louis teases which he
should know by now is the wrong decision since he’s always terribly
outnumbered when it comes to the women in his life.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you shedding a few tears too, Lou,” his
mum remarks, craning her neck to meet Louis’ gaze with a pointed
look.

“He cried for the whole thing,” Fizzy scoffs next to him, sticking her
tongue out when he glares at her.

“So did Harry,” Phoebe suddenly pipes up from where she’s sitting
behind Louis. “I saw him.”

“Oh bless him,” Jay coos tenderly – she always did have a soft spot
for Harry; Harry always rolls his eyes when Louis insists she prefers
him.

“He looked very handsome today,” his mum continues, meeting

Louis’ gaze evenly in her mirror.

“He always looks handsome,” Louis mutters, idly playing with his
phone in his hand before he realises what he just said. When he looks
up everyone is staring at him – he can’t see Ernie and Doris right now
but they probably are too.

“Like objectively,” he adds lamely.

His mum just seems to hide her smile behind her hand and looks
away.

Louis doesn’t open his mouth once for the rest of the drive.

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His mum and Dan are surrounded by their relatives as soon as they
arrive while Daisy and Phoebe take charge of watching the younger
twins and Fizzy disappears to find Gemma and Lou presumably. It
means Louis can slink away and find Harry before he inevitably gets
hounded by his extended family.

The guests aren’t in the formal ballroom yet – they have to wait for
Lottie and Dave’s arrival – so everyone is clustered together in the
lounge rooms when Louis arrives inside. He spots Harry leaning
against the wall talking to Louis’ nan, which- of course he is.

Well, it’s not exactly how he’d intended on greeting Harry but this
works too.

Louis weaves through the guests milling about with glasses of wine
until he arrives at his nan’s side, carefully fitting an arm around her
waist to draw her attention. “Hello gorgeous!” he exclaims, leaning in
to kiss her cheek.

“Louis,” she replies warmly, placing a hand on his chest in a way that
always makes him feel like he’s seven years old again. “I was just
talking to the lovely Harry, here,” she continues, motioning to Harry
in front of her.

When Louis looks up to meet Harry’s gaze the other boy’s face is lit
up with a beaming smile.

“I was just telling him how it’s been so long since you boys came to
visit me,” she adds none too subtly – Jay definitely got her tact from
her mother.

“Come on, nan,” Louis pleads, using his most charming smile – the
one that always got him an extra biscuit when he was younger. “You
know how busy we are in London, can’t be running down here every
weekend.”
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“Well, Harry’s promised you’ll come visit in a couple of weeks,” she
responds primly and Louis thinks if she were younger she’d probably
add a petulant “so there” to the end of her sentence.

“Did he now?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows and glancing in

Harry’s direction.

Harry just keeps on smiling and offers him a shrug. “No reason why
we shouldn’t stop off to see her when we come visit our mums, Lou.”

“It’s so nice you boys are still friends,” his nan sighs happily, eyes
flitting between them. “I worry about my Louis all alone in that big
city, you know Harry?”

“I’m not alone,” Louis protests instantly. “I have Harry.”

Harry’s expression melts at that and Louis can see everything in his
eyes that he can’t say out loud. The “I love you”s he’s been choking
back for three days.

His Nan makes a cooing noise not unlike the one Jay had made in the
car as she takes Harry’s hand in hers. “I’m so happy for you two,” she
exclaims. “And who knows maybe next year it’ll be your wedding,”
she adds suggestively, winking at Louis. He just saw his nan wink. He
will never recover from this.

“Oh we’re not-“ Harry tries to deny but his cheeks are flushed and
Louis can tell he’s trying not to preen too much.

“I know what I know,” she cuts him off enigmatically. “I trust my

eyes, Harry dear.”

With that, she winks again and mentions something about finding his
aunt before strolling away

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What just happened?

“What just happened?” Harry asks dumbly.

Louis is still staring after his nan in shock but shakes himself at
Harry’s voice. They lock eyes and there’s a single moment where
they’re both silent before they burst out laughing.

“Did my nan just try to set us up?” Louis wheezes, leaning against the
wall for support.

“To be fair,” Harry snickers, wiping at his eyes. “Her eyes don’t lie.”

“True,” Louis chuckles, clearing his throat in an attempt to sober up.

When their laughter has finally petered off he takes a measured step
forward. If anyone is looking they’d still seem a fair distance apart as
they lean against the wall but a glance at the floor would reveal that
the tips of their shoes are touching.

“So,” Louis starts, eyes lazily dragging up over Harry’s torso to meet
his gaze. He looks sinful in his suit and Louis’ been dying to get his
hands on him since he saw him in front of the church. “I think it’d be
easier to sneak off now rather than when the meal starts, don’t you?”

Harry’s eyebrows quirk at that, his expression slipping into a smirk.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes now as he gives Louis a
considering onceover. “Oh really?”

“Saw a supply closet in the hallway by the toilets when we were here
yesterday,” he suggests quietly, curling his hands into fists by his sides
so he doesn’t reach out for Harry like he wants to.

“Classy,” Harry snorts but he still seems to do a quick scan of the

room to make sure no one’s looking at them. “I go and you follow in

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thirty seconds?” he mutters under his breath, smiling at someone that
passes them.

“Deal,” Louis agrees quietly. “Go.”

Harry casually pushes off the wall and saunters through the room and
he’s so fucking swinging his hips on purpose, fucking hell Harry’s
gonna be the death of him.

Counting in his head, Louis carefully avoids eye contact with

everyone so no one tries to stop and chat. He can chat later, right
now he needs to get his hands on his boy and muss up his suit a little.

After thirty agonising seconds Louis slips out of the room, keeping
his head down as he passes relatives and family friends. He’s not
ashamed to say that when he enters the deserted hallway he picks up
the pace a little – not running…just not…walking either.

By the time he reaches the supply closet his patience has been
essentially obliterated and he tears open the door far more forcefully
than necessary. It doesn’t matter anyway because the moment he’s
through the threshold Harry’s slamming him back against the door,
effectively sealing it shut. Louis still throws out a hand to twist the
lock just in case.

“That was longer than thirty seconds,” Harry complains, words

getting lost between them as he crushes their lips together.

“Hmph,” is Louis’ succinct reply before he decides winding his

fingers through Harry’s hair is a far more urgent task than talking.

As soon as Louis has a firm grip, he tugs, causing Harry to let out a
broken groan as he begins sucking on Louis’ bottom lip. Harry’s
hands slide under his suit jacket, fingers clutching at the shirt beneath
it and they’re definitely going to have to spend an inordinate amount
205
of time in the bathroom fixing themselves later but Louis doesn’t
particularly care right now.
“Baby,” he mumbles, words muffled by Harry’s mouth – Harry’s hot,
insistent mouth that’s doing things that are making him feel a little
lightheaded. “Baby,” he repeats, pushing Harry away only slightly and
replacing his mouth with a thumb to Harry’s lip. “What do you
want?”
Harry’s response is to suck Louis’ thumb into his mouth which only
causes Louis’ eyes to darken and his brain to short-circuit. When
Harry seems sure he has Louis pliant against him he leans forward,
releasing Louis’ thumb to mouth along his jaw. “Well ideally,” he
begins conversationally as if he’s not driving Louis to insanity. “I’d like
to fuck you. But that could get messy and people would definitely
notice if we changed clothes.”

Louis nods feebly, eyes slipping shut as he feels his throat go dry, one
hand still twisted in Harry’s curls while the other clutches at his
shoulder.

“So I guess reciprocal blowjobs it is,” Harry sighs airily and Louis will
literally never understand how he can somehow feign nonchalance
right now – Louis feels like he’s going to shake out of his skin if he
doesn’t get to touch Harry soon.

“That okay with you?” Harry asks lowly, lips brushing over his pulse
point just above the collar of his shirt.

Louis replies by dragging Harry up for another searing kiss, using his
hands to guide Harry where he wants him, to kiss him like he fucking
means it. It’s worth it to see the dazed look in Harry’s eyes when they
pull apart. He blinks for a moment before his gaze refocuses and
flicks up to meet Louis’.

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“I’m going first,” he whispers and Louis absolutely does not trust the
look on his face right now but then Harry’s dropping to his knees in
front of him so really, Louis has no room to complain.

Harry settles for untucking his shirt first, opening a couple of the
bottom buttons so Louis’ lower abdomen is exposed. It’s what Harry
always does; he always goes for Louis’ tummy first because he knows
it turns Louis’ legs to jelly. He presses soft lingering kisses across
Louis’ stomach, humming appreciatively when Louis winds his hands
into his hair again. He doesn’t pull now – not yet anyway – he soothes
and caresses until Harry’s practically purring, lips dropping lower
without him seemingly even realising. (Harry might know all of Louis’
ticks but Louis definitely knows his too.)

After what feels like a lifetime, Harry’s hands reach for the button on
Louis’ slacks. He pulls down the zipper with care, pushing Louis’
trousers halfway down his thighs as soon as he does. It’s both sweet
relief and hell on earth when Harry starts mouthing at him through
the fabric of his briefs and Louis can’t help the little whimper that
escapes the back of his throat.

Harry’s gaze darts up at the sound, locking with Louis’ and Louis
swears if he doesn’t fucking look away this is going to be over far too
soon. Harry grins – he’s the worst – and sits back on his haunches,
latching both his index fingers in the hem of Louis’ briefs and tugging
them down tortuously slowly.

“Haz,” Louis whines, voice already sounding breathless to his own

ears. “Come on, we don’t have long before someone comes looking
for us.”

“Yeah that’s why you want me to hurry up,” Harry scoffs. “Not
because my mouth is an inch away from your dick.”

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Louis has a retort on his lips ready to quip but then Harry’s
swallowing him down and well- they can bicker later.

Louis exhales sharply, thunking his head back against the door and
absentmindedly tightening his hands in Harry’s hair. It’s dizzying and
overwhelming - the feeling of the wet heat of Harry’s mouth. Louis
can hardly convince himself to keep his eyes open long enough to
watch before he inevitably has to squeeze them shut in an attempt to
stave his impending orgasm. Because while he is aware they don’t
have that much time, he’d still like to draw this out as long as
possible.

He feels close already – too keyed up from having to keep touching

Harry to a minimum – and Harry’s steadily sinking lower, curls
brushing sensitive skin of Louis’ thighs. Louis feels weak, feels like his
legs are about to give out and when Harry curls his tongue in the way
that always makes Louis fall apart he has to bite down so hard on his
lip to keep quiet he’s pretty sure he almost draws blood.

He’s seconds from slipping into a babbling mess and comparing

Harry to every ethereal thing on the planet when there’s a knock on
the door. “Louis, love?” his mum – his mum fucking fuck fuck – calls.

Louis jumps and Harry almost fucking chokes, pulling off him and
coughing into his hand – when Louis imagined Harry choking on his
dick, this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.

“Louis?” his mum says again and Harry is staring up at him with
horror in his eyes.

“What do we do?” he hisses, absently wiping at his mouth, but Louis

is frozen. He’s fucking frozen because what do they do?

“Get up,” he whispers frantically, catching Harry’s hands to help him

stand. “Just a sec, mum!” he calls louder, bordering on hysterical.
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“Pull your trousers up, Lou,” Harry reminds quietly, hastily trying to
fix his hair – which is pretty much a lost cause right now since Louis’
been pulling on it for at least ten minutes.

“Are you okay?” Louis whispers because yeah they’re in deep shit
right now but he still wants to make sure Harry didn’t actually hurt
himself. He curves a hand around the side of Harry’s neck, thumb
stroking over his jaw as Harry nods.

“Fine, love, it’s okay,” Harry promises, tucking his chin to kiss Louis’
palm before he steps back again and tries to make himself
presentable.

Louis tucks himself back into his pants and rebuttons his trousers on
autopilot, attempting to messily tuck his shirt back in.

“What are you doing in there, Lou?” his mum asks as the door handle
jiggles and Louis is so fucking relieved he had the foresight to lock it.
“Why is the door locked?”

Harry flicks on the light to make it look slightly less suspicious that
they’re hiding in a closet while Louis runs a hand through his own
hair and tries to straighten his tie.

“We definitely look like we were just getting each other off,” Harry
says, looking slightly traumatised – his lips are still shiny and swollen
and fuck, they’re never getting away with this. Louis just settles for
tucking a stray curl behind Harry’s ear and making him take a large
step back to put some distance between them.

He unlocks the door, feeling a little bit like he’s going to throw up but
still he forces a smile onto his face when he meets his mum’s gaze.

“Cups!” he announces loudly, making her startle. “We needed cups!”

209
Once she recovers she narrows her eyes at them. “You needed cups?”
she asks dubiously. Does Louis have a love bite from when Harry was
kissing his neck? Shit, he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, plastic cups,” he insists. “The twins wanted them so we were

just- looking. For them.”

“With the door locked?”

“That was my fault,” Harry says suddenly. He sounds a little unhinged

but it’s better than nothing. “I accidentally locked us in. We’ve been
trying to get out for the past few minutes.”

“Right-“ Jay starts but Louis doesn’t let her finish, grabbing a string
of plastic cups from one of the shelves and twisting his other hand in
Harry’s sleeve.

“Well we found the cups and we’re free so we better go give them
out!” he proclaims, dragging Harry out of the closet and all but
running past his mum.

“Lottie and Dave will be here any minute,” she calls after them.

“Got it!” Louis yells back, pulling Harry around the corner and
directing him straight into the bathroom.

“Well it’s a good thing you brought me here because I think I’m
gonna be sick,” Harry says dramatically as soon as the door swings
shut behind them, taking a few steps into the room and crumpling
against the sink.

Louis drops the stack of cups unceremoniously on the floor before

joining him. “I’m scarred for life,” he replies dazedly. “I’m genuinely
scarred for life.”

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“I think your mum might be too,” Harry mutters, making Louis bark
out a laugh – albeit a pained one.

He groans then, momentarily burying his face in his hands. “Let’s just
clean up and get to the ballroom. We can’t go missing again.”

Harry sighs and nods, dropping his head onto Louis’ shoulder. “Will
you fix my hair for me?” he mumbles, voice still sounding a little raw.

Louis smiles, wraps an arm around him to support his weight and
kisses his temple. “Sure, love.”

The dinner is…awkward. They’re at a table with Louis’ mum, Dan,

Louis’ grandparents, Anne, Robin and Gemma, and the youngest
twins. And well, it’s fair to say Louis hasn’t looked his mum in the eye
in about half an hour. Harry has just been staring resolutely at his
food ever since they sat down and Louis can’t tell if his mum has told
anyone what she saw yet.

Thankfully, the only person that really has a conversation with them is
Gemma – their parents and grandparents are still far too caught up in
discussing the ceremony – and if she notices something’s off she
doesn’t say anything. Ernie and Doris are a blessing in disguise, acting
as the perfect buffer by keeping his mum occupied while she tries to
make sure they eat all their dinner.

It isn’t until Louis’ gotten a couple of glasses of wine in him and

they’re waiting for Lottie and Dave to cut the cake that he actually
starts to loosen up, trusting his mum not to interrogate him until
they’re alone. Which probably won’t be until tomorrow.

Harry seems a little more at ease too, even barking out his ridiculous
hyena laugh at something Gemma says at one point. When he catches
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Louis’ eye after he’s quietened down he smiles – it’s small and he still
looks close to blushing at any moment but it’s there. Louis just smiles
back and gives him a tiny nod. It’s easier after that.

After listening to the various speeches of groomsmen, bridesmaids

and parents, Louis knows it’s his turn. Clearing his throat and
straightening his tie he stands up – but not before Harry squeezes his
hand under the table and mouths, “Good luck.”

Louis steels himself as he walks up to stand by the wedding party’s

table, accepting the mic and a kiss on the cheek from his mum before
he watches her return to her seat.

Show time, then.

Taking a deep breath, he puts on his game face. “Uh so I was

planning on doing the threatening big brother act but I was warned
this morning that might not go down too well.” He pauses while the
room laughs politely, biting back a grin when he sees Lottie rolling
her eyes exasperatedly at him but she’s still smiling – hasn’t stopped
since the church.

“What I really wanted to say though,” he continues, turning away

from the room at large to meet Lottie’s gaze. “Is that I’m really happy
for you, Lotts. Being loved and being in love, it’s…it’s one of the best
feelings in the world and I’m so excited that you get to experience
that every day for the rest of your life. You deserve it, y’know? And I
know you were always the cynical one,” he jokes, close enough to
hear her scoff, close enough to see that her eyes are shining with
unshed tears.

“But I’m glad Dave changed your mind and I’m so beyond thrilled
that you’ve found someone you want to wake up with every morning
and go to sleep with every night and experience everything else in
between with. Because I’ve never had a doubt in my mind that you
212
could achieve everything and anything you wanted but it’s quite nice
to have someone there to experience it all with you, innit?” His face
scrunches up in a grin, thoughts of Harry flooding his mind before he
can help it.

“So,” he lets out on an exhale, getting ready to wrap up.

“Congratulations. I hope every day you spend together feels just like
today.”

He raises his glass when he finishes, pulling a stupid face at Lottie

because everyone’s clapping and Lottie’s crying a bit and Louis is
feeling far too emotional right now. He hurries back to his seat then,
quickly handing the mic off to the waiter who’s standing near the
cake, waiting for Dave and Lottie.

Louis sinks back into his chair gratefully, accepting the claps on the
back and compliments about his speech with the wave of a hand and
a bashful smile. It isn’t until he looks at Harry that his throat feels
tight again. He has the softest look on his face, one filled with so
much love and adoration and fuck, Louis knows this is Lottie’s
wedding but he’d be lying if he said there haven’t been teeny, tiny
moments all day where he’s felt like it’s theirs.

For now, he just links his ankle with Harry’s under the table and
cheers along with everyone else as the newlyweds cut their cake.

It’s enough right now.

As the night progresses it’s fair to say they get spectacularly drunk.

Every time Louis looks Harry is dancing with his aunt or his nan or
the twins or basically all of Louis’ relatives and it’s so fucking
endearing; Louis is dying to cut in. In between that though, Harry
213
grabs his hand and pulls them both into a huddle with the lads so they
can jump too close to each other and inevitably bang heads while they
sing Shut Up and Dance too loudly in each other’s ears.

It’s fun and Louis spends the majority of his time on the dancefloor
with various friends and his sisters, doing a poor attempt at not
spilling his drink.

The other option is remain at his table and have a constant stream of
relatives harassing him about how your Harry has gotten quite handsome
since he’s grown up, are you sure you don’t want to snatch him up? Or are you
sure you’re not lonely in London, Louis? My friend Judith has a nephew there if
you’re interested… Or the kicker – Louis love, are you positive nothing’s going
on between you and your friend Harry? I think he might fancy you, you know…

So yeah, the dancefloor is mostly his safe haven for the night.

At some point past midnight the DJ circles back to playing slow

songs and Louis is sitting alone at his table, itching to go find Harry
and dance with him but knowing he shouldn’t. They’ve kept their
distance so far when it comes to the slow songs – even if they could
probably get away with blaming it on the alcohol.

It’s at that moment that Harry comes up behind him, crouching down
and fitting his hands to Louis’ waist before leaning in to whisper in
his ear. “Come outside with me, Lou.”

Louis ignores the shiver Harry’s hushed voice sends down his spine,
just nods and stands, turning on his heel to see Harry dimpling at
him. Without another word, Louis steps around his now vacated chair
and begins to lead Harry out to the courtyard.

It’s deserted out there even though it’s a mild night and the entire
garden has been done up with fairy lights for the reception.

214
“What are we doing out here, H?” he asks when Harry starts directing
them down a short path.

When they’re far enough away from the door that no one can see
them but not so far that they can’t hear the music filtering outside,
Harry stops. Turning around, he holds his arms out to Louis.

“Dance with me?” he whispers.

Louis’ not gonna lie, in that moment with Harry’s eyes twinkling in
the fairy lights and the soft echo of Can’t Help Falling In Love With
You playing in the background, he feels a little bit like Harry’s just
taken his breath away.

He folds into Harry’s arms instantly, clasping one of his hands while
the other slides over his shoulder. Harry winds his free arm around
Louis’ waist, inching closer until their chests are flush together. They
start to sway then, gently, barely even moving their feet.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Louis murmurs,
leaning in to rest his forehead against Harry’s before closing his eyes.

“Feels a little bit like the first dance at our wedding, doesn’t it?” Harry
replies, nostalgia tinging his voice with affection.

“Our first dance was on a beach in Barcelona in the middle of the

night,” Louis reminds, voice barely above a hushed whisper – this
moment feels too quiet for anything louder. Rolling their foreheads
together, he pulls their joined hands closer to their chests.

“Yeah and you looked just as beautiful then as you do now.”

Louis’ eyes are still closed but he can see the look on Harry’s face,
knows exactly how his mouth is tilted and the depth of his dimple

215
and the crinkle in the corners of his eyes. He thinks if he opens his
eyes he might not be able to stop himself from kissing him though.

And if he starts he’s not sure he’ll ever stop.

“I love you,” is his answer. It’s the only thing he can think to say, the
only thing that means enough, that conveys everything he feels in
three simple words.

“I can’t wait to put our rings back on,” Harry breathes, voice tinged
with longing, and Louis does open his eyes then, gaze immediately
focusing on the bump underneath Harry’s shirt - their wedding rings
still being kept safe on his necklace.

“Me too, baby,” he sighs, giving in just a little and allowing himself to
smudge a kiss on Harry’s jaw.

Harry responds by pressing his smile into Louis’ cheek and it feels
better than anything else in the world ever has. They don’t talk much
after that; just continue to sway half-heartedly while Harry hums the
lyrics under his breath. Louis could go to sleep like this. He could curl
up in Harry’s arms and stay like this forever and he thinks it would be
enough.

As the closing notes of the song slowly trickle out, Harry’s hand
travels from his waist to cup Louis’ cheek. Louis leans into him, parts
his lips to meet Harry’s and all but melts against him when they kiss.

He thinks he knows what Harry meant when he said this reminded

him of their first dance as a married couple. It’s the feeling. It’s the
same feeling Louis had on a deserted beach with his boy in his arms
and it had only been a matter of hours since their first kiss but Louis
was sure he’d never felt more settled, more whole and more content
than he’d felt in that moment with Harry singing in his ear and sand
under their feet.
216
He remembers thinking one thing, just one thing. I could do this for the
rest of my life. The way his heart sped up when he realised he gets to
still gives him tingles when he thinks about it.
Harry’s smiling against his mouth now, not enough to break the kiss
but enough that it makes Louis want to smile back, want to hold him
closer and never let go. He’s so lost in it he doesn’t even hear the
approaching footsteps until there’s a gasped, “I knew it!” coming from
behind them.

They break apart probably slower than they should, given the
circumstance, but Louis feels too crippled with dread to actually
move. Because judging by the look on Harry’s face, whoever is
standing behind Louis’ shoulder isn’t someone who’s supposed to see
them.

Slowly, he turns around, reluctantly slipping out of Harry’s arms only

to come face to face with Lottie. And his mum. And Gemma. And
Harry’s mum.

Okay then.

Of course, at that exact moment Niall, Zayn and Liam come crashing
outside in a tangle of limbs yelling various combinations of, “No,
don’t go out there!”

“I fucking knew it!” Lottie announces gleefully, clapping her hands

together and effectively breaking the silence. “I knew you were
dating.”

Well, it’s now or never.

“Actually-“ Louis starts but Gemma interrupts him.

“You two are honestly the least subtle people in the world, do you
know that?” she adds, looking so fucking smug Louis feels himself
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flinch when he tries to look her in the eye. “You’ve been bloody
mooning at each other all weekend! The amount of heart eyes you
were sporting, ridiculous.”

Anne joins in with a laugh at that, shaking her head fondly. “You
could’ve just said, you know? I would’ve let Lou stay over, H.”

“Well mum-” Harry tries but then Louis’ mum interrupts him.

“Honestly boys, why did you feel like you had to hide? You know we
support you.” She looks so open, her gaze betraying nothing but love
and oh shit, she’s gonna kill them.

“The thing is-“ Harry starts again but Louis can’t do another long-
winded explanation, he needs to rip the band aid off.

“We’re married,” he blurts out, immediately cringing when the

courtyard goes horribly, deafeningly silent.

All four of them are standing there with the exact same expressions
of incredulity, mouths gaping open and eyes staring blankly at them.
Louis can see the lads still standing in the doorway like they’re about
to watch a car crash happen in slow motion.

Gemma is the one to ultimately break the silence with an extremely

confused, “…Pardon?”

Followed by Lottie’s much more shrill, “Excuse me?!”

Their mums still haven’t spoken. Oh god, oh god. Okay, this is fine.
This is fine.

“Yeah,” Harry answers dumbly. “So we kind of…eloped?”

That gets a reaction.

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“What?!” their mothers shriek at the same time and Louis just about
notices Niall facepalming before the girls descend on them.
“What do you mean you eloped?”

“When did this happen?”

“How come you never told us?”

“We didn’t even know you were dating-“

“Okay!” Louis says loudly enough that they all stop abruptly. “Just- it
was nine months ago.”

“Nine months ago-“

And wow, okay Louis is officially done trying to explain, he’s just
gonna let them yell at him until they get it out of their system.

Harry, bless him, actually tries to keep going. “We didn’t tell you
because it was really spur of the moment, okay?”

“And what about the nine months afterwards?!” Gemma demands

derisively.

“We…” Harry looks at Louis, expression just as helpless as Louis

feels before he turns back to his sister. “We were scared?”

“Oh come on, Harry-“

“Look, the boys freaked out when they found out and we realised you
lot might be mad at us and the longer we waited, the harder it got to
tell you so we just kept putting it off-“

“And we didn’t want to spoil Lottie’s wedding by telling everyone this

weekend,” Louis takes over because Harry’s about to go blue in the
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face if he doesn’t take a breath soon. Harry nods fervently in
agreement, fingers slipping into Louis’ and lacing them together.

“But-“ Lottie stops herself, eyes zeroing in on their hands as she

suddenly quietens down. When she meets their eyes again her
expression has softened just a bit.

“Girls,” Jays interrupts before she remembers to add, “And boys. Can
you give me and Anne a minute alone with Louis and Harry, please?”

The lads need no further prompting, tripping over each other in their
haste to race back inside. Lottie and Gemma definitely look like they
want to protest but they still trudge back inside to the reception
without a word.

“Now,” Anne says genially. “Perhaps you could explain again? From
the beginning?”

Louis casts a sidelong glance at Harry, seeing the look of trepidation

on his face that mirrors Louis’ own before he turns back to their
mothers and steels himself with a breath. “It’s my fault,” he admits.

“What? Louis, no!” Harry immediately protests, taking an involuntary

step closer and curling his hand around Louis’ elbow. Louis’ gaze
snaps to him only to find Harry’s eyes boring into his own.

“We both lied,” Harry continues, looking away and meeting their
mums’ gazes evenly. “We both agreed to keep this from you.”

“It was my idea though, Haz,” Louis corrects softly.

“Yeah and I agreed,” Harry repeats vehemently. “Look, the truth is,
we weren’t exactly thinking straight when we got married. We didn’t
even think of how anyone else would react until we were on a plane
home from Barcelona,” he explains with a half-laugh and the fond
220
expression on his face is enough to make Louis’ mouth curl up just a
bit in the corners.

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you,” Louis swears. “And certainly
not for this long, it’s just- well how do you tell your mums you
realised you were head over heels in love with each other to the point
where you decided to get married hours after you confessed your
feelings?”

Anne and Jay actually look like they’re trying to bite back a smile at
that – okay, so they’re not completely livid. This is good. This is
progress.

“I’m sorry we lied and we definitely went about it in the worst way
possible but if I had to go through all this again with same result, I’d
do it,” Louis says quietly, lifting his arm out of Harry’s grasp and
folding their fingers together again. “I’d go through this
ridiculousness all over again if it meant Harry would still be my
husband.”

“Me too,” Harry agrees determinedly, squeezing Louis’ hand.

There’s a pause – quite possibly the longest pause of Louis’ life – until
Jay’s expression finally breaks into a grin. “We’re not mad you’re
married, loves,” she says in the kind of soothing voice only his
mother has ever perfected. “We’re happy for you, so incredibly
happy.”

“Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this?” Anne quips,
eyes lit up with same kind of mischievousness he always sees in
Harry.

Louis huffs a laugh at that – it probably sounds a lot more like a sigh
of relief but the way Harry’s whole body sags like the tension has

221
completely drained out of him suggests he’s not the only one feeling
relieved.

“But we do wish you’d told us sooner,” Louis’ mum continues with a

pointed look at them both and he automatically feels like a chastised
child.

“I know you think we’d be cross with you for getting married without
us there,” Anne says. “But, darlings, you should know by now that
nothing makes us happier than seeing you two happy.”

“We’re sorry,” Harry apologises solemnly.

Jay looks between them for a moment, eyes lingering on their hands
just like Lottie had, before she huffs and opens her arms. “Well come
here then.”

In a matter of seconds Louis and Harry are enveloped in a hug with

their mums – and mother-in-laws – and it’s probably the first time
Louis’ taken a breath all weekend.

“That’s it, yeah?” Anne asks after pressing a kiss to Harry’s hair and
stepping back. “No more surprises? No babies on the way or
anything?”

Harry barks a laugh, shaking his head as he grins over at Louis. “Not
yet.”

Louis is too busy smiling at Harry to notice the knowing looks their
mums share.

“Well how about we join the party again, hmm?” Louis’ mum
suggests. “Lottie might want to wring your neck but I’ll restrain her
while you dance with your husband for real.”

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“The bride gets what the bride wants,” Louis tries to joke, mostly in a
failed attempt to hide his stinging eyes and the lump in his throat.
Fuck, he loves his mum so much.

“Mm and I’d like both my children to still be in one piece at the end
of the night, thank you very much.”

Harry giggles, answering before Louis gets a chance to. “Don’t worry,
Lou. I’ll protect you,” he promises, wrapping an arm over Louis’
chest and resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Like you’d ever win a fight against Lottie,” Louis scoffs, a

begrudging smile slipping onto his face when Harry laughs right by
his ear.

“Oh you’re so sweet!” Anne says, making a noise suspiciously close to

a squeal. “Go on, go back inside. I think there’re only one or two
songs left. Jay’s right, you should dance.”

Louis nods, reaching for Harry’s hand again to lead him back inside
but he pauses in the doorway, looking back to their parents. “Thank
you,” he says. “For everything.”

“We love you,” Harry adds softly.

“You can repay us with another wedding ceremony,” Jay says

magnanimously. “One we’re actually invited to.”

“And grandchildren,” Anne adds, nodding in agreement.

Louis considers protesting but who is he kidding, he knows they’re

gonna end up delivering on both accounts. So he just laughs and
assures them with a, “No problem,” before leading Harry back inside.

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It’s half empty at this point, with most of the older guests already
retreating to their rooms. Lottie and Dave are making their rounds,
saying goodbye to guests and thanking them for coming while
Gemma and Fizzy seem to be twirling each other at the dancefloor -
it’s definitely a ploy because their mouths are moving a mile a minute
and Louis knows for a fact Gemma is filling her in on what just
transpired outside. He spots the lads camped out at one of the tables
with the last dregs of their beers but he doesn’t pay them too much
mind, more focused on following Harry onto the dancefloor.

Louis is extremely aware of the stares from their immediate family,

suggesting it’s definitely no longer just Gemma and Lottie who know,
but any nervousness he feels disappears as soon as he meets Harry’s
eyes.

Harry leads him to the middle of the dancefloor, doing an

exaggerated bow and reaching out to kiss Louis’ hand. Louis makes a
noise that should probably be a laugh but is far too embarrassing to
be classed as one and drags Harry up into a proper standing position
again, sliding his arms over his shoulders.

“You’re an idiot,” he murmurs, trying and failing to keep the grin off
his face as Harry’s hands fit to his waist.

“I’m romantic,” Harry corrects, a giggle escaping when Louis rolls his
eyes. “I love you,” he adds lowly, tipping their foreheads together and
darting in for a kiss.

“Love you more,” Louis whispers, dropping his head to rest on

Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Nowhere else I’d be, is there?”

“Still. You’re the best, H.”

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“Hmm,” Harry hums, drawing the sound out. “Nope, pretty sure you
are! Now, come on. Twirl me. Our sisters are showing us up.”

Louis laughs, takes a step away from Harry and grabs his hand, raising
their arms in an arc for Harry to spin under which is a disaster
because Harry’s taller than him anyway and his boots always add a
couple of inches.

But it makes Harry laugh, which makes Louis laugh, and that’s
enough.

When they crash back together, Harry’s flushed and still chuckling,
muffling the sound against Louis’ mouth and this right here- this is
heaven.

“So now that we don’t have to sneak into each other’s rooms, what
d’you say to going upstairs and getting out of these suits?” Harry
murmurs quietly, definitely too low for Fizzy or Gemma to hear –
Louis hopes.

“Just to sleep though, right?” Louis asks sarcastically, snorting when

he sees Harry’s pouty face. “Come on then, you big baby,” he sighs
long-sufferingly, pulling Harry towards the exit and pointedly ignoring
the wolf whistles coming from what he knows is the boys’ table.

Interrogations can wait ‘til tomorrow.

They’re tangled together, clothes strewn on the floor, expensive hotel

sheets skating over their skin and Louis is kissing Harry for the first
time in three days without the fear of anyone walking in on them.

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It’s starts off slow – long, languid kisses that make Louis’ brain feel
sluggish but he knows they’re both getting antsy, too worked up to
convince themselves not to speed things up.

“Where’s-“ Harry pulls away with a shaky breath, mouth dropping

open slightly wider when Louis’ hand tightens in his hair. “Where’s
your bag, Lou?”

“Chair,” is all Louis manages to breathe out before Harry’s lips are on
him again, prying his own mouth open until their tongues collide.
Louis skims his hand down Harry’s back, palm sliding over the curve
of his ass to pull them flush together, chest to chest and knees locked.

It takes a few minutes before either of them can actually convince

themselves to pull away from each other long enough to leave the bed
and go rooting in Louis’ bag. Louis isn’t ashamed to admit he keeps
drawing Harry back in every time he makes a feeble attempt to pull
away.

“Lou,” Harry laughs, turning his face to the side when Louis tries to
kiss him again. Which, fine. Louis can just kiss his neck instead.
“Baby, I’ll be right back.”

Louis huffs, dropping his head back onto the pillow and letting Harry
climb off him.

He barely has a second to catch his breath before Harry is scuttling

back, shoving the covers to the end of the bed and straddling Louis’
hips, dropping a bottle of lube on the bed next to them.

“Now kiss me again,” Harry demands, voice giggly and a blush high
on his cheek and jesus christ, Louis is so fucking in love with him.

“So demanding,” Louis mutters, sitting up and cupping a hand

around Harry’s jaw to connect their mouths again.
226
“You love it,” Harry exhales when Louis turns his attention to
Harry’s neck, kissing down the column of his throat and across his
collarbones.

“Maybe,” Louis admits, biting down on the skin of Harry’s chest and
locking a finger in the chain around his neck - the one that leaves
their wedding rings sitting against Harry’s sternum, just above the
butterfly. “Lie down for me, love.”

Harry nods, easing off Louis’ lap and rolling them over until his head
is settled against the pillow and Louis is hovering over him. “Ready?”
he whispers, hand fumbling for the bottle of lube.

“Wait,” Harry stalls, reaching up and unclasping the necklace from

around his neck. Louis watches him as he slides both rings off the
chain and drops it on the bedside table. “I believe this is yours?” he
says softly, holding Louis’ wedding ring out to him.

Louis wordlessly leans more heavily on his right elbow to keep

himself propped up and holds his left hand out to Harry.

Harry’s eyes glint when their gazes lock and he carefully fits the band
back onto Louis’ ring finger. Louis can’t help it when he shivers, feels
like it’s nine months ago and he’s telling Harry he loves him for the
first time, feels like they’re pledging themselves to each other all over
again.

He swallows hard, carefully taking Harry’s own ring from him and
catching his hand. Gently, he slips the ring on before brushing a kiss
to Harry’s knuckles. Harry responds by lacing their fingers together
when Louis leans back.

Harry dimples up at him, eyes soft and laced with affection as his
teeth sink into his bottom lip and he draws a leg around Louis’ hip.
“’m ready now.”
227
Louis kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him.

Brunch the next morning is only a little terrifying.

They stumble down to the dining room with joined hands and
nervous stomachs – Louis might also be wearing Harry’s t-shirt
because it’s soft and smells like him and he’s allowed now. They enter
with some trepidation, warily eyeing the room for their siblings.

Lottie is the first one to come up to them.

She gives them an appraising look, eyes once again lingering on their
hands, before she punches each of them in the shoulder – hard – and
pulls them into a hug. “Lie to me again about major life events and I’ll
shave Harry’s hair off in his sleep,” she threatens, smiling cheerily as
she lets them go.

“Noted,” Harry replies shakily and her smile deepens.

“In all seriousness,” she continues, voice sounding much more gentle
than it had a moment ago. “I’m really, really happy for you.”

“Thanks, Lotts,” Louis murmurs, feeling a little choked up at the

sincerity in her tone. “We’re happy for you too, y’know?”

She simply nods, cheeks pinkening slightly, and wanders back to

Dave’s side, fitting herself under his arm and joining his conversation
with Dan.

Louis blows out a breath and leans into Harry. “Well that’s one
down,” he mutters.

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“And here’s one more,” Harry warns as Gemma stalks over to them.

“So how cruel would it be for me to punch you both in the exact
same spot Lottie just did?” she asks casually.

“Excessively,” Harry frowns, unconsciously leaning away from his

sister.

Gemma only laughs, shaking her head. “It’s fine, the look of fear on
both your faces will fuel me for a while.”

Louis rolls his eyes – mostly to cover up the relief he feels knowing
he won’t get punched again.

“For what it’s worth,” she adds, mouth quirking up in an affectionate

smile. “You really are perfect for each other. ‘M glad you finally
realised it.”

“Thank you, Gems,” Harry answers and Louis can definitely see him
starting to get a bit teary and that won’t do at all so Louis takes the
initiative and draws the three of them into a hug. Harry’s sniffling a
bit but the only people who can hear are Louis and Gemma and they
won’t tell.

Gemma leaves them be after that and they actually manage to sit
down, joining Niall, Liam and Zayn at a table.

“So what’s the damage?” Liam asks, wincing slightly in anticipation.

“Not so bad so far,” Louis says, eyes trailing over to where their
parents are sitting together one table over.

“Except for the bruises currently forming on our upper arms from
Lottie,” Harry adds with a chuckle.

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“Also that,” Louis laughs.

“So we’re all good?” Zayn checks. “Forgiveness all around?”

Harry nods, blowing out a breath. “I think so,” he says hopefully.

Niall is just about to ask them something else when he’s suddenly
interrupted. Phoebe and Daisy appear on either side of Harry and
Louis’ chairs, peering at them curiously.

“Mum says you’re married,” Phoebe says dubiously.

“That’s right,” Louis answers warily.

“Since when?” Daisy asks, eyebrows pinching up in confusion.

“About nine months ago,” Harry replies gently. “Even got the rings
and everything, see?” He lifts his left hand, holding it out for Daisy
and Phoebe to inspect.

“Mum says her and Anne are making you have another wedding.”

Louis looks at Harry, watches as they both flounder for a response

before he sighs and smiles at his sisters. “Yeah, loves. We probably
will.” He can’t help but check for Harry’s reaction out of the corner
of his eye, chest feeling full at the look of awe on Harry’s face.

Daisy and Phoebe share a look before turning back to them. “Can we
be bridesmaids?”

“Sure,” Harry laughs and they nod in satisfaction, moving

simultaneously to wrap Harry and Louis in a hug.

230
They skip away with an exclaimed, “Congratulations!” over their
shoulders and Louis’ chest feels about ten pounds lighter. The only
person left to say anything really is Fizzy who – speak of the devil –
makes her way to the table as soon as Daisy and Phoebe leave.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t say anything at all, just crouches down and
envelopes them both in an embrace. “I’m so, ridiculously happy for
you,” she whispers, kissing Louis’ cheek before turning to kiss
Harry’s.

“Love you, Fizz,” Louis responds, voice catching as she squeezes

them once more before letting go. Her smile is blinding when she
stands up straight again and Louis can only nod at her, feeling
seconds away from bursting into tears. She nods back, allowing her
hands to linger on their shoulders before she slips away as easily as
she came.

“We don’t deserve our family,” Louis mumbles, looking at Harry in

shock.

“No, we definitely do not,” Harry agrees, surreptitiously wiping at his

eyes. “But I think we might deserve to make it through brunch
without getting emotional so let’s eat please.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he laughs, forcibly clearing his throat and taking
a look at the spread in front of them for the first time since they sat
down. Lottie and Dave really went all out.

Brunch is a noisy affair after that, with people travelling from table to
table to reminisce about the night before and make promises about
the next family reunion. At some point, Harry nudges him to catch
his attention. When Louis looks at him he has the most relaxed
expression on his face Louis’ seen all weekend.

“This weekend wasn’t so bad, was it?” Harry asks softly.

231
As Louis looks around the room at all his family together and happy,
he feels the nerves he’s been pushing down for days finally settle.
“No,” he agrees, reaching out to take Harry’s hand. “It wasn’t.”

Three months later

“Knock, knock,” Lottie singsongs, rapping her knuckles on the open

door to Louis’ dressing room.

Louis pauses from where he’s straightening his tie in the mirror,
raising his eyebrows in a half-assed greeting. “Hi Lotts.”

“So big brother,” she smirks, sauntering into the room. “Ready to get
married?”

“I’m already married,” Louis rolls his eyes, attempting to fix his fringe
before Lottie bats his hand away.
“You’ll mess it up,” she chastises, delicately running nimble fingers
through his hair to put it in place. “And I know you’re already married
but you’re actually doing it the proper way this time.”

“Last time was the proper way too, Lottie,” he mutters petulantly but
he holds still nonetheless while Lottie fidgets with his suit.

“Yeah but none of us were there to celebrate with you.” She brushes
non-existent lint from his shoulders before stepping back with a
satisfied grin. “Gotta admit, as far as one year anniversaries go, you
kicked ass. How are me and Dave meant to top that?”

“Guess me and Harry are just better at being married than you,” he
retorts amusedly, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

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“Not a chance,” Lottie quips before her smile softens. “Now let’s go,
your boy’s waiting.”

Louis feels the fluttering in his stomach flare up again and pulls Lottie
in for a hug, squeezing her probably a little too tight but she doesn’t
complain, bless her.

“Let’s go get my boy.”

They enter from opposite sides rather than walking down the aisle –
mostly because they couldn’t agree on which one of them should walk
first – arriving at the centre of the altar at the same time. Louis
doesn’t hesitate to reach out and hold Harry’s hands as soon as he’s
close enough.

Harry dimples at him, eyes already shining with tears just waiting to
be shed and no- Harry can’t cry. If Harry cries, Louis will definitely
cry and Louis doesn’t think he’ll make it through their ceremony if he
starts to cry.

So he laughs, clears his throat and clutches Harry’s hands tightly,

chancing a glance at their friends and family sitting around them. He
has to look away almost immediately when he sees the expression on
his and Harry’s mums’ faces.

Their officiant at least offers him a reassuring smile when he casts a

glimpse at her before she starts the ceremony. Louis kind of blacks
out a bit in the beginning, vaguely hearing how they’re, “gathered here
today to celebrate the renewal of Harry and Louis’ vows,” but he’s
mostly too lost in Harry’s gaze to pay much attention.

His heart is beating a mile a minute and his mouth is dry and the only
thing keeping him together right now is Harry’s hands in his.
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Still, he hears it when Harry is asked to recite his vows again.

“Lou,” Harry breathes, nervous smile quirking at the corners of his

mouth. “I think there was always a part of me that knew.” He pauses
and Louis sees his throat bob like he’s trying to hold back his tears.
God, he wants nothing more than to kiss him.

“I think I always knew you were it. Even when you were six and I was
four and we were running around the garden pretending to be Peter
Pan and Wendy.”

Louis barks out a laugh, shaking his head and clenching his eyes
closed in an attempt to stop a stray tear from slipping out.

“And even though it took us twenty bloody years to realise it, I

wouldn’t change any part of my life with you. Because every single
second has meant the world to me.” Harry’s voice quivers just a bit,
not loud enough for anyone else to notice but Louis does. He
squeezes Harry’s hands again and mouths, “Love you.”

Harry nods at him, letting out a shaky exhale. “I don’t really

remember our last vows,” he admits sheepishly, earning a laugh from
their guests. “I guess I was a bit too caught up in finally getting to tell
you I loved you and having it mean what it did. …So I’m not sure
exactly what I promised you a year ago on a rainy September day in a
courthouse in London but I can tell you what I promise you now.

“I promise to love and cherish every single piece of you, even the
parts of you that you don’t always like. I promise to be your best
friend for the rest of our lives and whatever lives come after that. I
promise to kiss you all the time and tell you I love you every day and
clean up after you and cook you dinner and do my best to always
make you happy.” He pauses again, trying to blink away the tears but
it doesn’t seem to work. Louis just smiles tenderly at him and lets go
of his hand to reach up to and wipe under his eye with his thumb.
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“You’re just gonna make me cry even more, Lou,” Harry mumbles,
huffing a laugh.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, as he

slips his hand back into Harry’s.

“I love you so much, Louis. You’re half my heart and half my soul
and I-“ he stops again, face pinched like he’s trying to think of exactly
what he wants to say. Ultimately he just shrugs his shoulders with a
helpless smile. “I just want it to be you and I forever.”

Louis doesn’t even bother trying to wipe away the tears pooling in his
eyes, just nods fervently and tightens his hold on Harry’s hands.

“If you’ll have me!” Harry adds suddenly, eliciting another laugh from
the crowd and making Louis’ eyes crinkle at the corners.

The officiant smiles, gesturing to Louis. “Louis, what would you like
to promise Harry?”

Louis’ gaze trails back to Harry. To his husband. To the love of his
life. And he takes a steadying breath. “Harry,” he murmurs. “I-“ he
stops for a moment before he sighs, “You’re just- you’re it, Haz.
You’re everything. You’re it for me, you always have been. And I
think, like you, a part of me always knew that. It was always different
with you.”

Harry nods like he agrees, absently sniffling, and Louis needs to kiss
him.

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” he admits, derailing his own
speech entirely but at least he makes Harry laugh.

“But I’ll wait,” he grins, voice starting to sound thick with the tears
he’s choking back. “I can wait a few more minutes. …I don’t think I’ll
235
ever be able to put into words what I feel with you but I promise to
spend the rest of my life trying to. Because god Haz, it’s just better
with you. Everything. It always has been. Life just feels better when
I’m next to you.”

“So,” he draws out, sweeping his thumbs in circles over the backs of
Harry’s hands. “I also don’t remember our vows from last time-“ The
crowd laughs again and Harry starts giggling, eyes still shining as he
gently swings their joined hands. “So hopefully I can make these ones
a bit more eloquent.”

“I promise to take care of you and play with your hair whenever you
want. I promise to always hold your hand and only ever stand on your
left side because I know you like it better when the rope and anchor
link up.”

Harry laughs again, muttering, “I do,” under his breath, only loud
enough for Louis to hear.

“I promise to treat you how you deserve and give you the world. And
just like I promised when you were four and I was six, I promise to
your best friend. And just like I promised a year ago today, I promise
to be your husband. Okay? We’re a forever kind of deal. No take-
backs,” he teases, even as his lip quivers a bit. “I promise to be yours,
always.

“Harry, I love you more than I ever thought possible to love another
person and my heart is completely, irrevocably yours. You’re my
home.”

Tears are falling steadily down both their cheeks now and Louis can’t
help but laugh at how ridiculous they are. Harry – as always – is on
the same wavelength, nose scrunching up as he starts to chuckle.
Leaning in quickly like he thinks no one will notice if he moves fast

236
enough, he presses their foreheads together and Louis feels himself
go cross-eyed trying to keep his gaze on Harry’s smile.

“Alright, come on, you’re nearly there. You can wait another thirty
seconds,” their officiant teases and Louis reluctantly puts some space
between them again.

“Now,” she says, satisfied. “Do you Louis William Tomlinson take
Harry Edward Styles to be your lawfully wedded husband? …Again?”

“I do,” Louis says, smiling so wide he doesn’t think his face can
possibly contain it.

“And do you Harry Edward Styles take Louis William Tomlinson to

be your lawfully wedded husband? Again?” Louis can hear the
amusement in her voice but he couldn’t look away from Harry right
now even if he wanted to.

Harry nods, a soft smile appearing on his lips. “Yes, of course.

Always.”

“Well, then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you as

husbands…again. You may now kiss.”

That’s all the prompting Louis needs before he’s reeling Harry in and
crashing their lips together. They’re both smiling too much for it to
be anything more than chaste but Louis doesn’t care because they are
fireworks exploding behind his eyes and butterflies in his tummy and
every other cliché thing you’re meant to feel in moments like this. He
feels it all – always has with Harry.

He can hear people cheering and their tears still haven’t dried on their
cheeks but Louis is in love. He is so, so, so in love with this boy in
front of him and he still can’t believe this is his life.

237
Because what they did a year ago, at the time it was right for them and
it was what they needed. It was theirs. But Louis is so happy he could
give Harry this, give him a day where they stand up in front of
everyone they love and promise to give each other everything.

Because whether they’re whispering “I love you” under the covers in

the secret of their bedroom or declaring it for the entire world to
hear, standing on an altar in a room full of everyone they know, it’s
still theirs. Just like it always has been. Just like it always will be.

Because for as long as Louis can remember he’s had people watch
what he and Harry have and ask, “You really love him, don’t you?”

And for as long as Louis can remember he’s only ever had one
answer.

“I do.”

(He thinks it might be the right one.)

238