as the snow flies (and dappled things sing)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/35594080.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band)
Relationship: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Character: Harry Styles, Gemma Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne,
Niall Horan, Ed Sheeran
Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Build, Snowboarding, Alternate
Universe, Hot Chocolate, Cute, References to Dirty Dancing (1987),
Clumsiness, Fluff and Smut, Lack of Communication, Light Angst,
Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Bets &
Wagers
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2021-12-08 Updated: 2023-04-21 Words: 157,188 Chapters:
22/?

as the snow flies (and dappled things sing)

by KJaneite

Summary

AU. The one where Harry's ski get-away takes a turn for the worse.

Almost twenty-year-old, headband wearing Harry is ready to enjoy the perfect family ski
vacay, even if his clumsiness means he'll likely spend more time with a book by the fire
than on the slopes. However, life has other plans.

One small mistake and Harry's made an enemy, who's dead set on making his trip
miserable. What's worse, his new adversary is a shockingly attractive, little shit that Harry
can't resist. How on earth will Harry survive?

Notes

This is a totally fictional (hopefully adorably cute) story, from characters to events
portrayed. Just for fun with no offense meant to any of the real people mentioned.

I will update tagging as I go. I like to let the story tell itself, so not entirely sure what to tag
right now, but I do have a general idea of what will happen. I'm not big on including chapter
notes and will only flag anything that may be a trigger, but this story will be fairly light, so
shouldn't be anything too concerning.

I do my best to catch any errors, but thank you in advance for going easy on me grammar
wise :)
 Chapter 1

Harry scuttles his body down, making it as small as possible, in the back of his mother’s Jeep. It’s
not, however, the type of car you can successfully hide in. The fact that he’d just been belting out
Shania Twain loudly with his mother and his sister in the front, isn’t what has him slunk in his seat,
shoulders hunched and cheeks burning. No, he’s actually pretty impressed with the note he’d hit
moments before. It’s the four boys outside the window who look approximately his age, but much
cooler decked out with their fancy snowboards and gear, that are making him blush in horror. They
definitely witnessed the whole show including a very passionate arm movement that accompanied
the crescendo.

The blond looked nice at least, huge smile and fist pumping along with the music. The slightly
shorter one, though, seemed amused, but not in a good way. His smirk, almost challenging, made
Harry glance down momentarily and miss his chance to get a look at the other two.

Well, that’s a great way to start off their month-long girl’s get-away. That’s what his mom and
Gemma have been affectionately calling their little winter chalet adventure, anyway. Harry isn’t
fussed to be lumped in as one of the girls. He likes spending time with his mother and Gem and he
also likes lots of things that are typically considered “girly”. He’s really never understood the need
to categorize something based on colour, or shape, or any other adjective that would make it
specifically for only boys, or girls. His mom and Gemma know that and the teasing is their sweet
way to show support, not judgment. They both think the world of him and he knows it.

The trip was his mum’s idea. Harry is currently on an extended gap year and quickly closing in on
his twentieth birthday with no idea what he wants to do with his life. Gemma, on the other hand, is
finishing up her last year of university and seems to have it all together. She’s got everything
figured out. She wants to be a reporter. To bring back truth and authenticity to the field. She hates
how muddied and confusing journalism has become. Her passion for this occasionally gets the best
of her.

These are the reasons Anne had thought a little stay-cay might do everyone good. That’s what she
told Harry anyway when he balked at her footing the entire bill for the three of them. Eventually he
caved because he genuinely loved the idea of getting away and he was currently too broke to make
a fuss about it. Luckily, everything timed up well with Gemma’s winter break and exam schedule,
so she only ended up missing a couple non-essential classes after all her exams were completed.

“Hey, what’s going on back there? Why’d you get all quiet?” Gemma asks over the radio, which is
still blaring through the vehicle.

“Oh, um just looking around is all.”

“Really? Not the fact that we just drove by four smoking hot guys on snowboards. One of whom
seemed to be giving you the eye?”

“What?! No, did we?” Harry is a terrible liar.

Gemma’s laugh fills the car.

“You most definitely saw them.”

“You thought he was giving me the eye? Like stink eye? Because that’s what it looked like to me.”

“I knew you were looking! And, Harry, that was not, I repeat not, stink eye. You’re so clueless
sometimes.”

“Pshawwww. That don’t impress me much,” Harry jokes back, giggling at his punny use of the
song lyrics they’d been belting and hoping it’s enough to distract Gemma from her current train of
thought.

“Well, if you don’t take a shot, I might. Did you see the one with the dark hair? Woah!”

“Alright now. Settle down. You’ve got a month to check out all the boys. Let’s not commit right
away to the first four we drive by,” Anne teases her eldest and musses her hair, while Harry peeks
in the rear-view mirror quickly adjusting the large piece of fabric he’s leveraging as a make-shift
headband over his messy curls. He’s growing them out and is a little self-conscious about the
length. He can see a pink glow on his cheeks and ducks his head again.

Anne pulls the car around to the visitor’s lot by the check in area. The resort looks like a carefully
staged insta post in its perfection and Harry doesn’t want to know what Anne shelled out for the
three of them to enjoy this time together. Huge snow-covered mountains run all along the backside
of the rustic, but lush, log building in front of them. The exterior of which is almost all windows
and Harry’s pretty sure he can see a roaring fire inside.

“Should we take the bags?” Harry asks as they pile out of the vehicle and begin to stretch. The
drive took just over 4 hours from Seattle, where Harry and Anne live, to their destination in British
Columbia. Harry’s muscles are stiff since they only stopped for a couple pee breaks along the way.
He feels worse for Gemma, though. She’s still recovering from a 14-hour flight from Scotland.
She’s studying abroad back home in the UK.

“Thanks, Hun. Couldn’t hurt to bring a couple.”

Harry nods to his mum and grabs his turquoise soft-sided travel satchel. It’s enormous and pretty
and he loves it. There’s this cool Aztec type print in orange, beige and maroon on the sides. He
hefts it over his shoulder and then does the same with Gemma’s sturdy brown backpack duffle.
She’s also got a travel-on with wheels she’s lugging out of the backseat, so Harry tugs out Anne’s
relatively small black luggage as well. He’s pretty loaded up as they enter the building and has to
awkwardly maneuver through the door to avoid clumsily knocking into it while he steadies the
bags slung over his shoulders. This isn’t helping his car-ride numb muscles.

Harry can be a tad uncoordinated and his slow entry into the building has Gemma and Anne far
ahead of him, through the foyer at the check in desk, as he blocks the main entrance staring at his
surroundings.

It’s cute, like a Hallmark movie, and cozy. Lots of warm wood and leathers are paired with a
minimalist vintage vibe. Two huge colourful paintings take up the few high walls that aren’t made
up of floor to ceiling windows and giant crystal chandeliers hang overhead leaving glittering
patches of light spattered over the large canvases. Harry’s not sure anything could be more
beautiful until he takes in the view of the mountains through the windows at the far end of the
room opposite him. He hates the idea of plowing down those treacherous heights at high speeds on
skis, or a snowboard, but from this vantage point they’re stunning and his breath catches.

“Harry,” Anne waves as he feels himself being shoved from behind.

He stumbles and almost falls. Surprisingly, he manages to keep a hold of all the bags while huffing
and doing his best to get out of the way. The four boys he’d just seen, or who had (more
importantly) seen him singing, are pushing through the door around him. To be accurate, the short
one is pushing. The others scoot around him politely.
"Lou, that wasn’t nice.” The blond says. He smiles wide at Harry. The cute Irish lilt of his voice
does not go unnoticed. Harry loves a good accent.

The smaller one with the messy brown hair that makes Harry picture a quirky cartoon squirrel,
looks at him mischievously and pats the back of Harry's large travel bag, throwing him off balance
again.

“Cute bag, Sun,” he says as he passes and Harry can’t help the confused look that flits across his
face.

“Hey, mate. I’m Niall. Disregard him.” He pushes at Lou who just continues to give what must be
his patented look since it’s the only one he’s directed at Harry yet. It consists of an almost non-
existent grin with slightly raised eyebrows. “Looks like you’re staying a while.” Niall steadies
Harry by lightly touching the only part of his shoulder not covered in luggage straps.

Harry nods shyly. He can see Anne from his peripherals trying to get his attention.

“Hi Niall, I gotta go. My mom needs something, but it’s nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you guys
around?” He waves in an awkward way and instantly feels like a dork.

Lou is clearly not thrilled with Harry, for whatever reason, and gives him another side glance as he
says, “Only if you’re lucky.”

Niall laughs boisterously. Harry guesses he does everything boisterously while the other three boys
poke, tease and jump around each other, leaving Niall behind as they cross the lobby.

“We hangout at the staff bar. If you can find it, swing on by. We’re there almost every night.
Otherwise, we’ll see you on the slopes. I teach on Tuesdays. All levels,” He winks as if he can tell
Harry might not be the most graceful sportsman. “Just ask for me when you sign-up.” He gives
Harry one more happy grin and then waves and takes off after his friends. Harry watches him go
before dragging himself and the bags over to where it looks as if his mother has completed the
check-in process.

**

They’re in cabin 23. It’s a bit of a hike from the main building and Harry can feel his cheeks
burning from the chilly air when they finally get there, not to mention the ache in his arms from
carrying the bags the whole way. As soon as Anne has opened the door, he squeezes through and
lets the luggage fall to the floor. She gives him a quick thank you pat on the head and smile that
makes her eyes twinkle before she heads off in search of a bathroom.

“What were you talking to those boys about?” Gemma asks now that they’re away from the
increasingly frigid wind that has been biting at their faces, as she pulls off her hat by the large
pompom.

Harry sniffs adjusting to the warm temperature of the room.

“Niall, the blond one said we should swing by the staff bar. Apparently, that’s where they hangout.
He seemed nice.”

“And cute. What do they put in the water here for them all to be that good looking?”

“Except the shorter one. He randomly called me Son. What does that even mean? Like he thinks
I'm young, or something?”
Gemma ponders this for a moment, “I dunno, but whatever he called you, he’s still cute.”

Harry shakes out his curls, even though the headband keeps them pretty well in place, and
nonchalantly says, “Personality makes someone attractive to me and his stinks.”

“You don’t even know him. He said like two words to you.” Gemma corrals her bags, ready to take
off should Harry get any ideas about picking a room before her.

“He didn’t have to say much. I could just tell.”

“Well, I didn’t say you have to marry him. I just think he’s cute, but to each their own I suppose.
Anyway, I’m getting a room with a view, so…” her words trail off as she gives Harry a quick wink
and makes a dash for the staircase. He could likely catch up with her. She’s just as uncoordinated
as he is, but that would probably end up with someone getting hurt, so he kicks out of his boots and
looks around instead.

The cabin is larger than he expected with a comfy looking sitting area just inside the front door and
a small kitchen at the back. There’s a little closet for boots and coats and a hallway just beyond
that he guesses leads to the washroom, but he’s not sure what else. A set of stairs shoots off from
the principal space, where Gemma has just gone in search of bedrooms. It’s cozy like the main
lodge and makes him think of sipping hot chocolate after a fun date outdoors. But who’s he
kidding? He’s not meeting anyone on this trip. And, even if he magically did, he’s not sitting in
front of this fire with them, being all cutesy, with his mom and Gemma here. He can’t deny he’s
been craving a little romance. His last boyfriend turned out to be a bit of a fling, which had been
news to Harry who was looking for something a tad more committed than your average twenty-
something. More committed, anyway, than Olly had wanted to be. He’d been seeing half of Seattle
while Harry thought they were exclusive.

With a tiny shudder, Harry shakes himself from the memory and throws his bag over his shoulder.
He trails the same path Gemma had taken up the steps to a landing that splits into three decent
sized rooms. The larger one is, of course, for Anne and Gemma is already sprawled on the bed in
the one beside it, headphones on while scrolling her phone.

Harry takes the only remaining room. It’s just past Gemma's. The exterior facing wall, like the
others on this floor, is all windows, showing off the huge evergreens peppered in sporadic clumps
across the landscape and the ski hills snaking between them. The bed faces towards the view and
Harry is thankful for the blackout curtains because although he loves the idea of gazing at the
wintery scene as he falls asleep, he can’t imagine what the morning sun would be like through all
that glass. A shared washroom connects his and Gemma's rooms. He quickly closes the door on his
side for privacy.

After tossing his bag on the bed, he flops down as well, resting his legs out in front of him. His
black skinny jeans give them even more of an appearance of length. This is the first moment he’s
had to himself all day and, of course, he takes it to quickly scroll through Olly’s most recent social
posts. He has to be careful, though, not to accidentally click on his insta stories. He doesn’t want
Olly to know he’s still thinking about him, or his boyish face, saucy grin and puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh,” Harry audibly groans, as he roughly brings his phone to the bed face down, then gets up
and crosses the short distance to the bathroom. He swings open the door and calls over to Gemma.
It takes a moment before she appears on the other side of the shared space.

“Come with me to that staff bar later? Those boys might not have been that bad after all.”

**
Gemma easily agrees and after the pair eat dinner with their mother, a splurge on room service (or
cabin service to be exact) for their first night and the three cuddle on the couch for a re-run of the
Great British Bake-off, they are on their own in the chilly night. Their pretense of exploring more
of the resort not completely a lie and the only reason Harry can even remotely pull it off.

“So where is this place?” Gemma asks, teeth chattering and her breath coming out in a puff of
smoke.

“Well, I don’t actually know. I just thought we’d figure it out.”

"It’s freezing out here! How on earth are we going to just figure it out? This place is huge,” she
waves her extended arms to show just how expansive the resort is.

“Oh c’mon,” he grabs her jacket sleeve and tugs her towards the main building. "Where's your
sense of adventure?"

"It's frozen, that's where it is."

Neither are all that excited about asking the front desk where the staff bar is, so they mill about for
a while and decide to keep wandering to see if they spot anything remotely bar-like.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here and you don’t even know where to go,” Gemma
complains quietly more to herself than to Harry, but she knows he can hear her all the same.

“Hey wait! What’s that?” Harry points a colourful, mitten-covered hand to a nondescript building
just beyond the small shops and restaurants that serve as a little village inside the resort. Most are
closed for the day, which is something to worry about another time given it’s not that late, but for
now the white building with the rainbow string lights flashing on the outside seems like their best
bet.

“This all feels a bit dirty dancing, doesn’t it? If someone tries to foxtrot with me, I am outta there.”

“Ok you’re ridiculous and also they weren’t doing the foxtrot in the staff area at Kellerman's. They
were grinding and stuff,” Harry responds quickly, without thought. His cheeks burn when he
realizes what he’s just said to his sister, but it’s cold, so luckily, they’re already rosy anyway.

Gemma acts like the brave one, but when it comes time to pull the door open, she lets Harry go
first to which he rolls his eyes but does it anyway. And, it kind of IS like dirty dancing. There
aren’t any couples gyrating on the dancefloor, just a bunch of young adults in a dive bar with pints
of beer in front of them, but it has that secretive factor like this part of the resort isn’t meant for the
starry eyes of naively enthusiastic vacationers.

Harry spots Niall in a booth in the back corner. He gulps. Although the other boy’s relaxed, yet
exuberant, movements across the room feel welcoming, Harry has a thickness in his throat and a
heaviness in his stomach that will not abate.

He rubs his mittened hands on his pants like they’re clammy, but when he feels the wool against
his skin, he realizes what he’s doing.

“Harry!” Niall calls over to them loudly. He’s up in moments wrapping his arms around both Harry
and Gemma’s shoulders. He feels shockingly warm and comforting, which makes Harry smile.
This doesn’t last long though because as they approach the table, Louis gives the pair a look,
cocking his eyebrow.

“Oh look! Curly’s here and he brought his girlfriend.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but before he can say anything, Gemma summons up courage from
somewhere and chimes in, “sister more like and you are?”

“Louis, love. And what should we call you, sister?”

Harry does not get excited by the way Louis uses the word love. No, he will admit he adores
people who use terms of endearment to complete strangers (in most cases) AND a good British
accent is his favourite, but Louis has called him both Son and Curly, all he has to do is give him a
‘Pal’ and he will have secured Harry’s hatred for life.

“Nice to meet you, Louis. I’m Gemma.”

“Scoot over boys,” Niall insists, as he points to the remaining two boys. “That’s Liam and the
pretty one is Zayn.”

“Hey!” Liam protests uselessly and Harry has a feeling this comment has been made more than
once.

“Liam, look at him. You’re cute, but he’s pretty,” Niall retorts.

Liam rolls his big brown eyes and Harry tries not to laugh. Niall does have a point though. Zayn’s
dark hair and eyes paired with his distinct jaw line make him striking, to say the least.

“Well, sit down, Curly,” Louis chirps.

Harry definitely doesn’t love the idea of sitting beside Louis, but what can he do? He can’t very
well push Gemma in first, can he? Before he even tries, Louis grabs his mitten and pulls him into
the seat. As Gemma and then Niall squish in after, the space gets very compact and Harry can’t
help to notice that Louis' warm thigh is pressed against his own. He swallows again, that dry
feeling grating his throat, and Niall seems to notice. He hollers at the bartender for two more beers.

"That good?” He asks. “I mean it kind of has to be because all they really serve is pints.”

“Yup. Beer works,” Gemma smiles. Harry is currently rendered mute by his proximity to this boy,
he has decided he very much hates, despite the fact that his bright blue eyes get crinkly at the sides
when he smiles, as they are now while he challenges Liam to a chugging contest.

He’s such a caveman, Harry thinks to himself, as he tries to angle his body in the other direction.
It’s difficult to pay attention to what’s going on around the table. The boys all talk over each other,
aside from Zayn, who just quietly giggles at the others. Louis is loud and abrasive and it makes
Harry’s head hurt.

“So,” Niall offers up in a clear effort to make Harry and Gemma feel welcome in the conversation,
“Where are ye from? How long are ye staying?” He’s playing up his accent but throwing in a tone
of a cheesy chat show host as well.

Gemma’s too busy eyeing up Zayn to respond, so Harry starts in with his slow and deliberate
answer. He likes to think over what he says while he speaks which means he’s generally not the
quickest of communicators.

“Gemma’s been studying in Aberdeen this semester. She just got back, actually. And I live in
Seattle, but we’re originally from the UK. And we’re staying just over a month, if you…”

Before Harry can finish his statement with ‘can believe it’, Louis is interrupting him to say, “Now,
Sun, you’re gonna have to start talking quicker than that if you want to party with us lot.”
Louis is grinning at him mischievously, as Harry sets a hard green-eyed stare at him.

“My name’s Harry. Not Curly. Not Son. And I’m almost twenty, so the second one doesn’t even
make sense.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, but his eyebrows shoot up in response. He purses his lips together in
what Harry reads as a taunting smirk.

“I’m not over here calling you shorty, am I?” Harry knows his voice sounds pouty and feels bad
the moment the words have left his lips. Louis is no longer smiling in any sense of the word, just
straight-faced staring at Harry until he turns his attention back to Liam, flicking him in the side of
the head and motioning towards the bar.

No one else seems to have noticed what’s happened, as Louis grumpily makes Gem, Harry and
Niall shift out of the booth, so he and Liam can squeeze past. Harry knows now’s not the time to be
eyeing Louis’ physique as he passes by, but his rather curvaceous bum makes it hard not to look.
And the thing is, he isn’t really that short. He just gives off a small vibe, even though Harry can tell
he hits the gym based on the swell of his upper arm and thigh muscles under his clothes.

Liam and Louis plant themselves on stools by the bar while the rest of them shuffle back in the
booth. Harry’s now beside Zayn, who although quiet, seems more approachable than his noisy
friend.

“So, you all work here?” Harry asks and feels instantly ridiculous.

Of course, they all work there, why else would they be in the staff bar, but he’s in the staff bar and
he doesn’t work here.

Harry’s mind is racing.

Gemma is laughing into her beer as Niall, who seems to be telling her some sort of tall tale,
gesticulates wildly with his arms. Zayn's watching with a grin, but glances at Harry and nods in
response.

“Ya, Louis got us all the in. It’s his third winter here. He’s a nice guy you know and I think you
might have hurt his feelings,” Zayn's voice is low, but casual. Friendly, even if his words are
direct.

“The short thing?” Harry blushes and looks to his beer. “He called me Curly and Son. I was just
retaliating.”

Zayn pushes a loose dark lock out of his eyes.

“Not the same.”

“Feels the same to me.”

“It isn’t,” Zayn says bluntly, leaving an air of mystery to the statement that Harry desperately
wants to understand, but he can tell it’s not up for discussion. “Anyway, Louis doesn’t tend to hold
grudges… for long.”

Harry’s quiet after that, sipping his beer and staring awkwardly at the table. Zayn is pretty easy
company, since he’s not overly chatty and Harry can get lost in his own thoughts. That is until
Louis and Liam decide to come back to the table a significant amount of time later. Harry’s not
sure how long it’s been, but he knows he sent a least 27 furtive glances in the pair’s direction since
they left.

Not that he’s counting.

Before either can squish back in the booth, Harry guzzles the rest of his beer, drags the back of his
hand across his mouth and begins to push Gemma off the seat.

“Gem, let’s go, I'm tired.”

“Harry, I’ve barely touched my beer. What’s the rush?” Gemma arches a brow, clearly confused
by his sudden urgency to leave.”

“C’mon. It was such a long day,” he pouts quietly.

She motions to her drink, as if it's a criminal offense to leave the amber liquid behind, so he swiftly
picks up her glass and lets the now room temperature beer flow down his throat. He sputters and
sets the glass down, once he has emptied it.

“How ‘bout now? Can we go?”

“Ok. Sure. Yeah.” Gemma still looks confused but resigned to the fact that Harry most definitely
wants to go back to the cabin now. “It was nice meeting all of you,” she says to the group, as she
pulls a twenty from the pile of cash her mother had doled out to them earlier with the comment,
“we ARE in another country, you know.” Which thank goodness, because otherwise Harry and
Gemma would have completely forgotten to bring the correct currency.

The other boys who really hadn’t stopped talking, aside from Zayn, since Harry had first met them,
were quiet, seemingly dumbfounded with his display of beer chugging. Niall finally breaks the
silence, as he blankly stares at Gemma’s money and back to the empty beer glass.

“Harry, you’re an animal,” he roars.

Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Too late.

Harry can feel the heat on his face, as he tries to keep his dimples at bay. “It’s just a beer,” he
waves his hand lightly, as if to convey that it’s nothing really. “Um thanks for inviting us. We’ll
see you around.” He looks up to quickly nod at Zayn but is too embarrassed to look at Louis and
Liam, so he gives an awkward wave in their direction, takes Gem's money and stuffs it into Niall's
hand, then pulls Gemma to the door.

“What was all that about?” Gemma shivers as she zips up her ski jacket and sneaks her neck farther
into its confines.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, ok? Just really tired now.”

With that they head back across the now very dark resort to their cabin, the only noise being their
footsteps in the crunching snow. Finally, Gemma hooks her arm around Harry’s and looks him in
the face.

“I’m sure it’s not that big a deal, whatever it is.”

Harry gives her a small smile back, but he’s not quite as confident that he hasn’t just officially
made an enemy for the rest of their trip.
 Chapter 2

“Wake up, Sleepyhead!” A pair of socks plunks into Harry’s face and bounces to the floor, as he
squints to see Gemma leaning on his door frame. “It’s massage day!”

He rolls over, stuffing his face into the pillow, but mumbles, “It’s early. Why so early?”

“Mum booked us in for nine-thirty, which gives you half an hour to shower. You can’t go in there
all sweaty with greasy hair.”

“Okaaaaay,” is his muffled response. “Close the door will you.”

He waits another moment then peeps out the side of his eye to see if Gemma’s followed his
instructions. She has.

The cold air hits his naked flesh, as he throws off his sheets with a flourish. The duvet having just
the right amount of fluff, becomes a person-like pile to the left of him.

Harry enjoys being naked. Finds it freeing, which is why he doesn’t bat an eye as he strides past
the open windows to the bathroom. Yes, he forgot the black-out curtain and yes, the sun is
sweltering, as it pours through the glass, which confirms his earlier suspicion.

The shower is glorious. Huge, for one thing. It’s also frameless glass with one of those giant
rainwater showerheads that has fifty different settings. Harry chooses downpour, looking for the
hardest water pressure, so it hurts a little when it bounces of his skin. He’s hoping it will help wash
off his embarrassment from the previous evening.

Was he really all that wrong, though, and what did Zayn mean it was different when Louis called
him names? Razzing someone was the same no matter the outcome, wasn’t it? Like maybe Louis
was sensitive about his ever so slightly smaller stature, but they didn’t know if Harry felt awkward
about his voluminous curls, or his baby face.

Thinking about Louis ends up taking over his whole shower. First, with recollections of the sassy
way he calls Harry ‘Curly’ and ‘Son’ and second, that annoying knowing smirk he’s constantly
sending in Harry’s direction. The smirk, however, somehow leads to Louis' bum (how Harry will
never know) and the way his lower back seems to flow like the side of a guitar, softly indenting
and then swelling into a swoon-worthy bottom. This, of course, has Harry wondering just how
many squats the other boy does in a day. His mind would surely have gone on from there, likely
moving to the blue of Louis’ eyes and the fact that they should have their own colour named after
them, but Harry suddenly becomes cognizant of the time.

Luckily, he unconsciously managed to shampoo his hair on autopilot while he pondered, so now
he only has to quickly rinse the remaining suds and throw on some clothes. A quick look in the
mirror, as he brushes his teeth, says a hat is necessary and before he leaves his room, he stuffs a
beanie on top of his wet curls.

Anne is chatty while they walk to the spa, but Harry finds he’s not listening. Instead, his eyes are
darting around the area, inspecting everyone that walks in their vicinity; they do, however, make it
to the basement level of the lodge without a Louis sighting and Harry lets out a sigh of relief.

Two large black doors stand just on the other side of the elevator, in a rather empty hallway, with a
sign overhead that reads, ‘The Willows’.
“It’s like that show Wind in the Willows. So good.” Harry chimes up on seeing the spa’s name.

“You are such a nerd. You know that right?"

“Mum, how am I supposed to be zen when Gemma is being so rude to me.”

“How am I supposed to be zen when you’re both being ridiculous,” Anne laughs at them
lightheartedly, opening the heavy door and letting her pair of overgrown children go in ahead of
her.

A light, yoga-style, music fills the air, as soon as they’ve stepped in the room. A young girl sits
behind a large, sleek reception desk, smiling blissfully. Cucumber water graces smaller end tables
on either side of the two comfortable looking couches that take up a majority of the space. Anne
chats with the girl, a blond with her hair tied in a high bun, whose blue eyes flash over to Harry
repeatedly. He smiles automatically in return. She’s cute enough, but not his type. An image of
Louis runs through his head at that thought and he squeezes his eyes shut, as if he can push the
idea right out of his brain.

Don’t even go there. He’s a jerk.

The girl first points Anne and Gemma to their rooms. Anne turns to look at Harry before heading
off, “We’ll meet out here when we’re done. Maybe grab some lunch.” She speaks in a quiet spa
voice that Harry doesn’t want to mimic, so he just nods yes, as Gemma agrees.

“So, Harry, is it?” The blond asks when it’s just the two of them left. She’s rounded the reception
desk and stands in front of him in her sparkling white uniform.

“Um yeah.”

“Ok, your mom said to check with you for a few of the questions.”

“She did?”

The girl taps a long fingernail on her clip board, as she looks through the lines that are left blank on
her sheet.

“She wasn’t sure if you would want a female, or male masseuse. Some people have a preference.”

“Either’s good. I’m not fussy.”

“Ok, Steve it is then. That works. Your sister requested a female at time of booking and we
would’ve had to call someone else in, if you were partial to a woman verses a man. Ooooops, I
guess I’m not supposed to tell you that.” She shines a set of perfect white teeth that paired with the
brightness of her uniform are a tad overwhelming. She must have had braces at some point, or she
was blessed by the teeth gods. Harry’s a little jealous thinking of his two slightly large front teeth,
even if he often gets compliments on them.

“This is my first week. Still getting the hang of things.” Her smile is almost overpowering her face.

Harry nods. At this rate he’ll never get in the room and he’s starting to feel uncomfortable in the
girl’s presence.

“So last question, any trouble areas? We’ve got you down for full body. An hour and a half.”

“Wow that long?”

“Uh huh,” she chomps her gum.

“No trouble areas. Actually, I take that back. My shoulders and my upper arms are pretty tight. Oh,
also can you ask him not to do behind my ears? I’m super sensitive there.”

The girl’s eyes bug out a bit, as if she’s imagining all this entails and she bites her bottom lip, like
she’s greedy for more details.

Harry looks to his feet.

“Perfect. Got it,” she pulls herself together. “You’re in room four. Down the hall and on the left.
There’s a robe and slippers inside, if you need to use the facilities at all. They’re in the hallway you
just came from. Ours is being renovated. Very sorry about that. Otherwise, strip down to what
you’re comfortable in,” she coughs at this, “and lie on your front between the sheets on the table.
Steve, will knock when he comes.”

Harry thanks her and follows her directions. He hasn’t been on the massage table long before a
light knock sounds at the door.

“Are you ready?”

“Yup.”

Harry lifts his head from the hole in the face rest to turn and look at Steve as he enters. And oh,
dear gawd, he is gorgeous. Like typically so, as in Brad Pitt, Ryan Reynolds, ‘the whole world
agrees in their general good-lookingness’ type of attractive.

Nope. Nope. Nope. A man was a bad idea.

It’s been a month since he’s seen any kind of action and he’s about to get a rub down from the
Greek god incarnate here.

“Um turns out I actually do need to run to the loo. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Happens a lot actually.” And the goofy, quizzical look that crosses Steve’s face tells
Harry he hasn’t put two and two together before. He’s one of that rare breed who don’t understand
how their looks affect everyone around them.

“I’ll be back in ten.” Steve smiles and leaves the room, so Harry can jump up and throw his robe
on.

Harry’s not hard, thank gawd, but he’s on the way there and his semi is very apparent, even with
the fluffy terry cloth wrapped around him.

Doing his best to casually walk past the blond at the reception desk, he feels instantly bad he didn’t
originally ask for her name. He’s never that rude, but he’s certainly not doing it now. Instead, he
gives her an awkward nod, when her head pops up reflexively at his presence. Not wanting to catch
her facial expression, he barely glances in her direction.

The heavy exhale of breath he releases, when he finally slips out the door feels like instant relief.
He’s facing the cool black wood, as he pushes the door fully closed; it’s one of those beefy ones
that takes actual effort to move. He lightly rest his forehead against it, only for a moment, to calm
his nerves.

“Curly?”
Please no. This is not possible. Anyone, but him. Literally ANYONE.

Harry turns to see Louis a few steps away, clearly just having stepped off the elevator.

“What are you doing here?” Irritation filters through Harry’s voice.

Louis’ gaze turns icy.

“Grabbing a beer keg. I help out in the main dining room sometimes. Not that it’s any of your
business.”

“Oh.” Harry looks towards the washroom door, to his feet and back to Louis.

A smirk slowly flits across Louis face and his eyes crinkle ever so slightly.

“You got Steve, didn’t you?”

Harry’s mouth pops open like a fish. Before he can respond, Louis laughs. “Yup. You got Steve.
See ya later, Curly.” He whistles as he walks down the hallway to a pair of hospital style swing
doors.

Fuuuuuuck!!!!

Harry rushes to the washroom, realizing Steve probably thinks he’s taking a poop at this point.
He’s certain there is no way this day could get worse.

After entering and quickly assessing that the stalls are empty, he steadies himself on the sink and
looks at the crazy mop of hair on his head. It’s huge and resembles the flounced-out mane of
Gemma’s ‘My Pretty Mermaids’ doll, albeit shorter and not bright pink, that she took everywhere
with her when she was a kid. His pupils look gigantic, with only a sliver of his grey green irises
visible, and his cheeks are bright red against the rest of his pale complexion.

He knows he needs to get back, but doesn’t want to be running in here again in a few minutes. His
embarrassment will probably hinder that, which is one bonus of this situation, but just in case he
thinks of things he can ponder while getting his massage. Louis, and that smirk he always wears,
pops into his head.

Gawd, think of something else. Sick puppies. No not sick puppies. Too sad. Olly!

That works because, although, his face is attractive, his behaviour was not. It’s the perfect level of
sadness to get Harry through the next hour and a half. With this thought in the forefront of his
brain, he confidently walks back into the spa.

**

“So,” Anne says, as she takes a piece of breadstick from the basket their waiter set in the centre of
the table. She looks sufficiently relaxed after her massage. Gemma too. Harry on the other hand,
has his hat stuffed over his wild curls (his hair was so big after Steve’s handiwork, he looked like a
mangled Q-tip) and feels more tense than before they entered the spa that morning.

“What should we do for the rest of the day?”

Harry can barely concentrate on the question because they’re now sitting in the main dining room.
The one Louis mentioned he works in. Harry had no reason to back up his request that they eat in
one of the other restaurants, so here they are, in the midst of what’s presumably the lunch rush, in
the middle of the room, completely on display for Harry’s new nemesis, wherever he may be.

“I’m so relaxed, I really don’t want to do much aside from plunk in front of the tv. Is that
horrible?”

“How about you, Harry? Want to come to the shops with me for a little fun before we hunker down
with your sister for the evening.”

“Sounds good, mum.” Harry responds. He would literally agree to anything at this point though,
he’s so distracted.

“That’s sorted then,” Anne claps her hands giddily, her blues eyes sparkling with excitement. “I
was thinking I might go on one of the nature hikes tomorrow as well. Who’s in?”

“Ooooooh me,” Gemma mocks her mother’s enthusiasm. “No, but seriously that does sound fun.”

They look to Harry expectantly.

“Tomorrow’s Tuesday, right? I was actually thinking I might take a snowboarding lesson.”

Anne and Gemma gasp in unison.

“Ok you booked a ski vacation. You had to know we were going to strap some sort of equipment to
our feet and throw ourselves down a mountain.”

“I wouldn’t describe what I pictured that way. I figured I would talk you both into skiing with me,
once or twice, but I definitely didn’t expect you to go snowboarding and in our first week here.
What’s brought this on?”

“Wouldn’t be a mischievously cute British boy, would it?” Gemma winks.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Not quite. Niall’s teaching tomorrow. I thought I would try it out while we’re
here.”

“Niall?” Anne asks.

“Cute blond guy. Keep up, mum.”

Louis, with seemingly perfect timing (like usual) strides up from behind Harry in a white button-
up, black trousers and a tie; Harry hopes with everything in him that Louis didn’t catch any of the
conversation they’d just been having. He notices how Louis’ hair is pushed as neatly as possible
across his forehead, but it’s still got a messy vibe. He reminds Harry of a kid whose parents have
dressed him up for some important event, or another, and who immediately after ran outside to
play with worms in the garden.

It’s pretty cute… but that doesn’t change his personality. He’s got little shit written all over him.

“I see Ed’s been by. He’ll be serving you this afternoon, but I’ll be your cocktail server, or
COCKtailer for short.”

Harry is certain Louis has put extra emphasis on the word cock, as he gives the table an Eddie
Haskell smile.

And ‘cocktailer’ that’s so not a thing.

Harry seems to be the only one that catches this, as Anne happily orders a glass of red wine and
Gemma a half pint of cider.

Louis looks to Harry expectantly. Anne does pick up on this.

“Oh right, Hun, you’re legal here.”

Louis seems to find this statement particularly amusing and lets out one small quiet laugh. He turns
to Harry with the most ridiculous smile Harry’s ever seen and in a patronizingly sweet voice, he
says, “I’d be happy to make a recommendation.”

“Just a water works, thanks.”

“Noooooo, Harry. Have one drink with us,” Gemma whines. “You never get to drink when we go
out.”

Harry rolls his eyes dramatically and Anne’s not jumping in to save him, she, in fact, looks thrilled
to have a drink with her kids as well, like some kind of right of passage ceremony.

“Fine. Sure, bring me whatever you suggest, please.”

“Perfect be back in a jiff.” Louis turns almost gleefully on his heel.

Ten minutes have gone by in idle chit chat, when a slight sense of trepidation fills Harry’s body,
just as Gemma starts to grin uncontrollably and Anne places a hand to her lips, apparently trying
not to laugh out loud. Harry should have known there was something off in the way Louis
practically skipped from the table, but only clues in now that he can sense Louis standing behind
him. He doesn’t turn to look.

A red wine is passed over Harry’s shoulder and placed in front of Anne. Harry spots the ink of
tattoos at Louis wrist, as he reaches around to set the drink down. A cider quickly follows, then
Louis is rounding over to Harry’s side, so he can see Harry’s face as he passes along an oversized
fishbowl full of some sort of pink concoction. A profuse amount of colourful umbrellas and a pink
swirly straw with strawberries, pineapples and cherries running it’s length, adorn the beverage.
Saying it’s ostentatious would be an understatement.

Anne and Gemma can barely hold back their giggles.

“This is a Princess Park,” Louis boasts proudly, “my most popular creation.”

Harry can’t tell if Louis is screwing with him, or if he is, in fact, just happy to share this unicorn of
a beverage with him. Maybe a bit of both. So, he thanks him for the drink just to be on a safe side
and tries to smile as he takes his first sip. It’s actually not bad, even if he wants to hide in shame
every time his lips touch the straw.

Lunch is delicious. Harry happily tucks into his pasta dish, while Anne and Gemma each enjoy a
beet and goat cheese salad. They are about to confirm how tasty everything is to their ginger haired
server, Ed, when he asks how the meal is going, but before they can, he distractedly comments,
“Louis talked you into a Princess Park? I hope you don’t have much to do this afternoon.”

Harry looks up at the friendly faced lad with black rimmed glasses, questioningly. A food runner
had dropped their meals, so this is the first time Ed’s been back to the table since taking their order.

“The alcohol content in that thing is off the charts. It should come with a warning label. Not sure
how Louis got it past management.” Harry’s eyes dart to the fishbowl that is nearly empty and
back up to Ed. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, but I’ll grab another basket of bread just in case. Might as
well soak up as much as you can.”

“Off the charts?” A penne noodle falls off Harry’s mid-air fork.

“Ya, well there’s at least five shots in there and two of them are tequila.” Gemma hisses as she
inhales a shocked breath. “It’s really meant for two people. Louis invented it for Valentine’s and
branched out to honeymooners after that. I thought he would have mentioned. You’re friends,
right? I saw you guys at the staff bar last night, didn’t I.”

“Staff bar?” Anne questions Gemma, as Harry just nods at Ed. He honestly doesn’t drink that
much and can likely attribute the slight buzzy feeling in his brain and urge to shovel his whole
plate of pasta in his face, as quickly as possible, to the pink demon drink he practically guzzled, not
tasting an ounce of the alcohol that apparently makes up a good portion of it.

“I’m gonna grab you that bread.” Ed says looking awkwardly at Harry who, deciding he’s waited
long enough, starts digging into his pasta.

“Maybe we’ll save the shops for another day,” Anne says more to Gemma than Harry, since the
latter is so focused on the food in front of him, getting his attention would be a miracle at this
point.

The rest of lunch is a foggy blur. Harry finishes his pasta and nearly the whole second basket of
bread, while Gemma and Anne eye him for any outlandish behaviour. Louis doesn’t come back by
the table, which is the best idea he’s had in the short time Harry’s known him. Either Anne,
Gemma, or Harry, himself, would have given him a talking to, if he’d dared to grace them with his
presence again.

Harry stumbles, ever so slightly, back to the cabin with Anne and Gemma hesitantly at his heels.
He’s certainly proven he's not much of a drinker, but if he had to guess, he’d bet Louis put even
more than the usual five shots in his drink. He definitely didn’t taste it though, which makes Louis
a magician.

A cute, horrible, little magician.

“Mmm just gonna take a nap,” Harry slurs kicking out of his boots gracelessly. Then, with a
considerable amount of effort, he drags himself up the stairs, immediately flopping face first on his
bed. He turns his head to the side and wraps his arms around an extra pillow, hugging it while
tucking himself into a fetal position. He’s on the verge of lightly snoring when Anne sneaks in.
She pulls his sheet up around his body, slips his beanie off his head and lightly fusses with his
erratic curls. After one more moment of watching over him, just like she did when he was a small
child, she turns to leave the room.

Harry suddenly pipes up in a sleepy mumble, halting her progress. “Louis-ish such a jerk. S’not
fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“Pshsss, you know.”

A laugh sticks quietly in the back of Anne’s throat, as she places a curl behind Harry’s ear. She
doesn’t push to find out what he means and after more soft silence, with only Harry’s sleepy
breaths filling the air, she goes to leave again.

“Why’s he so, you knowwwww….. cuuuuute? Those, stupid blue eyes and that bum. Mum, did
you see his bum?”
Anne can’t hold back the laugh that finally escapes, as she quietly responds, “you know I don’t
think I did.”

“Oh, it’shhhh a good bum.”

“I bet it is.”

**

The scent of freshly brewing coffee fills the small coffeeshop. After waking up far too early
because of his extended nap, that had lasted until the wee hours of the morning, Harry got ready
and snuck out of the cabin before either Anne, or Gemma had even stirred. He sent them both a
quick text with his plan for the day, not ready to face whatever booze-induced babbling he’s sure
he spewed the day before. He remembers clearly saying the word bum repeatedly, though. Harry is
a sleep-talker and this isn’t the first time it’s gotten him into an embarrassing situation. Nope, Olly
had the fortune, or misfortune (Harry’s not sure what Olly would call it) of hearing a garbled ‘I
love you’ during one of Harry’s nocturnal chats. Likely, the last nail in the coffin, of their
relationship.

He ponders this as he picks at his bagel with cream cheese. The café is pretty busy for the early
hour. Harry chose it because he thought it would be the last place he’d run into Louis; his new plan
for the rest of the trip is avoidance at all costs. However, the constant influx of people filling the
seats around him, says this might be the popular place to be for the early morning crew, which
hopefully Louis is not part of.

Apparently, Niall is though, because he comes in looking as chipper as usual and brightens more
when he spots Harry.

“Hey! I figured I wouldn’t see you today after the Princess Park and all.”

“Your friend’s a wanker.”

“Nah, you just need to get to know him.”

“I doubt that would help.”

Niall chooses to ignore this, “So, what are you up to today? We getting our lessons on?”

“I was thinking about it, if you have space for me.”

Niall’s whole face lights up. “Awesome! I actually get up early, so I can get some runs in before I
start teaching, but you’re in luck and my morning slot's not booked yet. How much experience do
you have? Do you have your board and boots with you, or do we need to swing by your place?”

“Um no. I haven’t. I mean… I’ve never actually snowboarded before. I don’t have a board, or
boots.”

“Ok no problem. We can work with that. Let me get my breakfast and we’ll swing by the rental
place before we head out.”

Niall doesn’t wait for a response, but instead walks past everyone in line to shout a happy order to
someone in the back, then with all the comfort, of the most easy-going person on the planet, he
steps behind the counter to grab his own coffee. Harry watches him slip the boy at the cash a ten
and a five-dollar bill. Much easier to tell in Canadian money because of the blue and purple colour
of each. The boy puts the ten in the till and five in his pocket for a tip. Harry sips at his coffee still
watching Niall. He wishes he could be that carefree and fun-loving. Niall carries on a conversation
with the girl that Harry can now see flipping an egg on a cooktop in the kitchen. Moments later she
hands him a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, hashbrowns and toast, which he plops on Harry’s table
after he makes his way back across the room.

“Gotta load up. Gonna work off tons of calories today.” He grins like a madman, as he bites a
corner of his toast. “You sure that’s enough? Don’t want you passing out halfway down the hill.”

“Ya, it’s good. I’m not much of a breakfast guy, usually coffee and that’s about it.”

“Harry! Breakfast is the best meal of the day. That and second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon…”

Harry cuts him off, “So you like food and you’re a bit of a dork.”

“Never call me a dork for liking Lord of the Rings. It’s literally the least dorky thing about me.”
Niall sets a hard stare at him and Harry starts in shock.

“Oh. Um. Sorry man. I was teasing. I’m actually a huge dork. Like, I love chick flicks.”

Niall laughs so loud he almost shoots eggs out of his nose. “I was teasing, but I promise, I’m never
forgetting your love of chick flicks. Let me guess The Notebook is your fave?”

Harry is stunned, “How’d you know?” he stares at the blond across from him, whose goofy grin
might be the most endearing thing Harry has ever seen. He has a feeling this boy is older than him,
but only in the literal sense, definitely not in spirit.

“It’s Louis’ favourite too.”

“Sorry? What? There’s no way. No-possible-way!”

“It’s true. I told you, you have to get to know him. He’s a big ol’ softie.”

**

“I don’t think this was a great idea,” Harry’s voice is rough and giggly, as he attempts to stand on
his board on the virtually flat hill. Niall has Harry’s mittened hands in his to steady him.”

Niall is trying his best not laugh as well, “honestly, you might be right. But I’ve never failed before
and I won’t let you be my downfall. We just have to keep you standing, then we’ll get you
comfortable on your heel and toe. And, you’ll need to be able to skate a bit to get on the tow rope
and the chair lift. It’s better, if we can move you onto a different hill sooner rather than later.”

“Sorry tow-rope? Chair lift? Ya. that’s not gonna work.”

“How were you planning on getting up the hill?”

“I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Is it a heights thing?”

“Nope. It’s an uncoordinated thing. If you haven’t guessed I’m a tad clumsy. Pair that up with a
moving object that I am supposed to grab, or sit on and who knows what will happen.”

“Ok we’ll worry about that later. I do have one question, though, how’d you manage to down that
whole drink yesterday. Louis made me one one-time and I nearly puked my guts out halfway
through. All that sugar and booze. It’s literally like Louis figured out how to turn himself into a
drink.” Niall laughs to himself as he ponders this.

“It tasted great. It was more the babbling to my mother about attractive arses while half asleep, that
was the real low point.”

“Oh yeah? Any arse in particular?”

Harry’s cheeks burn when he realizes what he’s said. The thing is, Niall has a tendency to put him
at ease, so he didn’t even think before sharing his embarrassment from the day before.

“Oh no. Just arses in general and my um…. appreciation of them.”

Niall cackles and claps his hands, letting go of Harry’s just for a moment. Of course, this throws
Harry off balance and he’s hitting the snow with his bum again, muttering a soft ouch at the
impact. This makes Niall laugh even harder, to the point where he’s almost doubled over. Harry
lies his head back on the snow in defeat.

“You know, I really don’t think you should be laughing at me. I am a paying student and all.”

“I gave you the friends and family rate. Laughing is included in that package.”

“Good to know. I don’t think the discount is worth it, somehow.” He looks up at the other boy
looming over him, all red faced and full of mirth.

With Niall’s direction, Harry intermittently scoots down the hill (which can’t even really be called
a hill the terrain is almost flat) on his bum and standing with his hands in Niall’s for support. When
they reach the bottom, he practices taking his back foot out of the binding and using it to push
himself along. He’s actually getting quite good at it.

“You need thighs of steel for this sport, don’t you?”

“Kind of, yeah. You should see Louis’. Those things are impressive. He can go from sitting to
standing just using his quads. I’m totally jealous.”

“Impressive,” Harry responds dully.

“Oh, come on, you gotta give him a chance. He really is a good guy.”

“Why? And like why do you keep bringing him up? You haven’t mentioned how great Zayn, or
Liam are.”

“That’s true, but you didn’t get off on the wrong foot with either of them. I think you’re cool and I
know you’re not gonna hangout with us, if you and Louis are at odds, or whatever.” This is the
first time Harry has seen Niall look even remotely unhappy. It’s disconcerting.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll try to be nice, if he will.”

“Yes!” Niall fist pumps exuberantly. “Ok let’s get this stuff back to the rental place and, if you’re
interested in taking more lessons, I’d be happy to go with you to get your own board. There’s a
place that sells resale in town. Their pricing’s reasonable. We can go this afternoon. Makes way
more sense than renting every day.”

“Awwww. Thanks, Niall. I’d love that.” Harry’s grinning so hard he can feel the dimples in his
cheeks come out of hiding.

**
Niall didn’t mention that everyone would be coming on their shopping trip, so Harry is more than a
little surprised when he’s bundling in the car with four other boys. Louis, Liam and Zayn get the
back, with Louis squeezed in-between the other two. He’s already rambunctiously teasing Liam by
flicking him in the ear repeatedly, while Liam tries to finish his conversation with Zayn.

This is the second time in less than a week that Harry wishes the seat underneath him will suddenly
come to life and gobble him up whole. His glance darts unconsciously up to the rear-view mirror.
He knows he promised to be nice to Louis, but he didn’t think Niall would collect on that quite so
soon and he’s honestly wondering, if he’s capable of keeping his word. His eyes settle on the
object of his thoughts. Louis’ too engrossed in picking on Liam to notice, so Harry takes the
opportunity to really give the boy a once over. He finds, however, that the fit of Louis’ skinny
jeans and t-shirt under a simple unzipped black jacket, make it difficult to look away. His gaze flits
up to the other boy’s smile, wide with amusement, showcasing his perfect apple cheeks. They take
over his face and make his eyes squint to almost slits. Harry finally draws his attention to Niall,
when he catches Zayn watching him, as he watches Louis. He's thrown by the knowing look being
conveyed through the chestnut brown iris’ and raised brow, he very briefly encounters.

“Um, so what is it I need to buy today?”

“Board, bindings, boots, but don’t worry. We’ll get you sorted.” Niall affectionately pats Harry’s
knee.

Harry’s sing-song ring-tone cuts through the car and quiets the other boys. He pulls it out of his
pocket and swallows, as he stares at Olly’s name running across the screen, his shoulders stiffen
automatically.

“Answer it already, LW.” Louis prods from the back.

Without thinking of his awkward relationship with Louis so far, he half turns his body, so he can
face him in the back and sincerely states, “Ummm, rather not. It’s my ex.”

“Oh,” is all Louis responds with a stunned expression.

“And what’s LW?” Harry’s brow is scrunched and his lips close to a pout. His phone finally stops
ringing.

“Well, I can’t tell you now, can I?” Louis huffs.

Harry half rolls his eyes, but in an effort to make Niall happy, (who he can see quickly looking
toward him in his peripherals) he turns forward again and simply responds, “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
His phone buzzes to notify him that he’s received a voicemail.

**

Liam wanders up behind Harry, as the latter assesses a wall of colourful snowboards; he could get
into this sport just based on the zazzley equipment alone.

“So, we haven’t had a chance to chat at all.”

“That’s true,” Harry looks to Liam. His instinct, like usual, is to immediately make eye contact
when he’s spoken to. “Was there something you specifically wanted to discuss?” He lets a slight
smirk slip at the awkwardness of Liam’s statement.

“Well, no, but Niall had you all morning. It’s my turn now.”
Harry laughs, “I wouldn’t say he had me all morning. And also, I’m not quite sure why you all
care. Like why do you want to hangout with me? I’m not being self-deprecating. I know I’m fun,
but like I’ve never had people this interested in being my friends for no apparent reason.”

“You just seem cool. The whole Shania thing was kind of endearing and you just feel like you fit,
you know. Like we’re all meant to be friends. Is that cheesy?”

“I dunno. It’s kinda weird, but sweet. I do have a question, though. How do three British and one
Irish lad all end up working together at a ski resort in Canada? I know Zayn mentioned Louis got
you all in.”

“It’s funny really. We were part of this snowboarding Twitter group chat forever. Louis was
already here and he suggested we all come join him. He helped us figure out the work visas and
everything. We always had a lot in common, so it just made sense.”

Harry nods mulling this over. It does make sense and is a better explanation than any he’s been
trying to string together in his head.

“So, what, you go home at the end of the season?”

“That’s the plan, or what we’ve come up with so far. We talked about getting a flat together near
London, but we haven’t really thought that far ahead. What about you? What’s home look like
after your vacation?”

“Same boat really. I have this job at a bookstore, but I can’t do that forever. And an ex who slept
with half of Seattle.”

“That’s rough.” Liam cringes.

Zayn strolls up behind them and lightly twines his fingers with Liam’s. Harry’s gaze is diverted to
their hands and he smiles softly.

“So, you guys are together?”

Liam blushes in response, while Zayn answers back with a smile that matches Harry’s, “It’s new.”

“But, like I said, we all had a lot in common in that group chat.” Liam rubs his thumb lightly on
Zayn’s.

Harry takes the opportunity to slip out of the store and quickly check his message. The sound of
Olly’s voice instantly makes his heart hurt.

“Hi Hazza. Just thinking about you. Hope all is well. Call me sometime.”

Ugh he has the audacity to even… Hazza! And, call him sometime....

He enters the store for a second time, a set of bells jingling overhead.

“Checked the message, yeah?” Louis’ suddenly there and he’s speaking in a quiet sincere tone that
is new to Harry.

“I did. How can you tell?”

“You look sad.” Maybe this statement is too unguarded for Louis because he follows in his usual
way with, “And you were out there forever. We need you to pick out your stuff, so we can get outta
here. Some of us have to work you know.”
**

Harry is really happy with how shopping went. He now owns a glittery patterned snowboard (that
Louis mocked him for repeatedly), waxed with bindings mounted and a pair of relatively boring
navy boots to match. He’s still a little confused about Louis’ astute comment and the way his
lashes fluttered over blue eyes that looked very sincere, even if it was only for a split second. Louis
didn’t talk to him too much after that (aside from the chiding about his shopping choices). Instead,
he ignored Harry’s presence entirely, or mildly teased him with the new nickname he’d concocted.
Harry still doesn’t know what LW stands for, but it’s better than the previous two Louis had been
using. They’re definitely not friends yet, even if Harry tried to keep his dislike for the boy to
himself. But he’s not thinking about that this morning. It’s a new day and he has another lesson
with Niall that afternoon to look forward to.

Currently, he’s cozied up with Anne and Gemma at the coffeeshop he found the day before.
Gemma sips a Chai Tea and peeps at Harry over the cup.

“So, any luck with the boy with the nice arse?” She askes nonchalantly.

“Muuummmmm,” Harry whines. “You told her?”

“She caught me in a moment of weakness.” Anne does the sorry not sorry shrug, while her eyes
smile and her cheeks happily round.

Harry hides his face, including a big embarrassed grin, behind his large hands.

“I’m never being vulnerable in front of either of you again.”

“Ok you know that’s a lie,” Gemma says as she wraps an arm around his shoulders. “And by the
way, mum may not have noticed, but I am in full agreement on that boy’s backside.”

“Nooooooooooooooooo.” Harry moans. “Please kill me now.”

“Ok, but first what are your plans today? Mum and I are gonna hit the slopes. You joining us with
that fancy new board of yours?”

“Nope. I stink. Can barely stand up, but I’ve got another lesson with Niall today.”

“I thought you said he teaches Tuesdays?”

“Yeah. But he has like set people and groups other days. I guess all the instructors cover a resort
lesson day, so like the one-time lessons, or the walk-in’s like me. Anyway, he said he had time this
afternoon to fit me in.”

“Fine. Fine. Anne and I will take on the slopes alone.” Gemma raises her hand in the air for Anne
to high five, which she does, but with a quick remark of, “I’m mum to you, missy.”

The rest of the day feels long and tedious. Harry is ready to get on his board again, even if he’s
dreading the moment Niall directs him to the tow-rope. He anxiously throws on his snow pants and
jacket, tugs a beanie over his curls and grabs his favourite pair of knitted mittens. Niall had
laughed at them. Apparently, gloves make more sense for this kind of activity, but Harry can’t say
no to a good pair of mittens.

He locks the cabin as he leaves, Anne and Gemma already gone, and manages to strap into his
board correctly. He even skates the whole way to where he and Niall arranged to meet. Niall’s not
there yet and Harry’s already a little tired, so he plunks down on his bum, doing a some people
watching while he waits. Everyone who passes by seems exceptionally happy and he thinks it must
be because of all the fresh air. He takes a deep breath to test his theory, letting its chilly goodness
fill his lungs. Luckily, it’s not frigid today. The snow’s even a touch slushie. Niall had explained
the best snow for certain types of snowboarding in their last lesson, but he was so excited and
spoke so fast, that Harry has already forgotten most of what was relayed. He recalls something
about powder, but nothing else stuck. His mind is lost in this thought, when a slightly high pitched,
but raspy voice, that he’s starting to know well, sounds behind him.

“Alright, LW, Louis Tomlinson at your service. Ready to make you the best fooking snowboarder
around.”

Harry’s head almost snaps off his neck, as he whips around to see the other boy stood on his
snowboard, hands on his hips with all the arrogance of Peter Pan emanating from him.

“Um are you….. helping Niall with my lesson today?”

“Nope. I’m it. He didn’t tell you?”

“’Fraid not.”

“Well, don’t worry, Sun. I’ve got you. Oh sorry. I forgot you don’t like that.”

That’s progress at least.

“So was Niall busy, or something?”

“What’s the fascination with Niall?”

“What? No. No fascination. I just… he told me he was free, so I guess something came up?”

“Ya, mate. Something came up, so it’s me, or nuffing. You wanna do this, or not?”

Well, this should be fun.

“Yeah. I do…. Let’s…. um… do this?”

“Alright, c’mon then.”

 Chapter 3

Don’t call him Curly. Don’t call him Curly, or Sun, or LW. He’s gonna hate that one when he
figures it out, but, most importantly, don’t call him love.

Louis calls everyone love, but he doesn’t need to give this boy, who clearly hates him, (and seems
to be over the moon for Niall) another reason to look at him funny. Who wouldn’t love Niall,
though? He’s like a giant walking teddy bear, all smiles and goofy joy. And, he gives such good
hugs! Really genuinely heartwarming hugs. Well, unfortunately for Harry, Niall only likes girls.
Why does it make Louis sad, though, to picture Harry’s pretty face when he finally figures this out
for himself?

He’s almost certain Harry has dated men before, or a man. He had glimpsed his phone when they
were in the car and Harry’s ex called. The name on the screen said Olly. It could be a woman’s
name, but that seems unlikely. Anyway, why is Louis even contemplating this? The kid hates him
and thinks he’s too short (something he often thinks himself, even if he won’t admit it). There is
literally no reason to give the subject another second of his time.

But those big green eyes. Fook! Stop it brain. There will be no more of that.

“Alright, mate.”

Mate. Mate’s good.

“Before we hit up an actual hill, lets go over there and see what you’ve got.”

Harry’s lips dip inward, almost like he’s biting them both at the same time, one huge dimple
popping on his left cheek.

Louis can tell he’s nervous, without the boy saying it. He, actually, finds it difficult to look at
Harry, right now; he’s too sweet like this. All those curls exploding from beneath his beanie, while
his snowsuit and an awkwardly large pair of goggles dwarf his normally long and elegant frame.
He’s all eyes and hair and dimples. Louis wants to put him in his pocket where it’s safe.

If he’d seen this Harry the other day, there is no way that he would have given him a Princess Park.
He wouldn’t have assumed this Harry could hold his liquor. But, the other Harry, the one he’s
known to this point, doesn’t look so innocent. Not with his funky headbands and perfectly coiffed
hair, or his skinny jeans basically painted on a body that hints at being muscular, while having the
softest, most alluring, curves Louis has ever seen. Nope. That Harry, looks like he’s seen some
things and Louis very much wants to know what those things are.

This is also a new feeling for Louis. He really hasn’t been interested in getting to know anyone in a
while. Aside from his main friend group, he's been finding people a bit boring lately. Maybe it’s
snobby of him, but he is over the predictability of most people. That’s what instantly drew him to
Harry, the Shania Twain singing, goober, that had him guessing from the moment he first saw him.

Harry interrupts this thought by speaking what he is noticeably worried about, “Niall told you…
I’m um…. a bit wobbly on my feet, right?”

“Yeah, Harold. It’s all good. I got you.”

“Harold?” A small smile graces Harry’s face and that dimple is back. And, Louis is melting.
He’s meeeeeellllting!

The air suddenly feels heavier and Louis needs to crack a joke instantly, but he’s got nothing. He’s
literally tapped out, so instead he turns and uses his free leg to propel himself up the slight incline
of the hill ahead. It’s not even considered a bunny slope, so it doesn’t take much effort for Louis to
make it to the ‘top’ quickly. Harry follows behind.

“Ok show me what you’ve got.”

“Like stand on the board and go down?”

“Yeah, exactly like that.”

Harry hesitates. “Soooooo. Niall held my hands. That’s how I got down. I can’t do it on my own.”

Louis cackles at the mental image. “Of course, he did! I’m not holding your hands, so let’s work
on your stance. You can do this.”

He steps out of his other binding and flips his board, so it’s laying face down. It’s not much of a
hill, but his freshly waxed snowboard could likely slip down it no problem. Harry is already on his
bum strapping his free foot in. Harry’s equipment is old, but in good shape. whoever owned, took
good care of it, even if they had the same taste for sparkles, that Harry apparently does.

“Ok, so face your board sideways against the slope and push yourself up.”

Harry follows Louis’ instructions without falling. A giant grin explodes like sunshine across his
face, exposing the most amazing set of teeth. Louis loves a big toothy smile.

“See! Now straighten your hips forward more.” Louis instinctively takes his gloved hands to
Harry's hips and straightens them out. He has never NEVER done that to a student before. This boy
is messing with his brain bad. He keeps up his cocky attitude, like the touch is nothing. “Even the
weight out in your feet. That will keep you balanced and don’t bend too much here.” Louis’
scheming hands again reach out and touch Harry. This time at his waist. Thank goodness for
Harry’s bulky snowsuit hopefully making the light touches less intense. That’s what Louis is trying
desperately to make himself believe, anyway, because they still make him shiver, even through his
thick gloves.

“I feel like I’m in a bad romcom right now,” Harry surprises Louis with this statement and the way
he grins with half his face. It’s teasing and almost sultry. They’re standing closer than Louis
realized.

“Oh yeah? Which one?” Louis smirks. He thinks he can smell Harry’s shampoo from here.

Apples?

“I dunno. Dirty Dancing. This place gives off total Dirty Dancing vibes, or maybe more like a
Hallmark Christmas movie. Who’s gonna start throwing snowballs at who?”

“I like Dirty Dancing better, but who’s Patrick Swayze and who’s Baby?”

“You’re The Swayze, for sure. All that bravado.”

Louis gasps and mocks shock by bringing his gloved hand to his chest, “Excuse me? Bravado? I
will admit, I’ve got those hip thrusts down, though.” He dramatically thrusts forward in jest, not
realizing the extent of Harry’s severe lack of balance, which gets the better of him when part of
Louis’ thigh hits his. Harry’s arms fly out at his side, like a cartoon character, circling in the air
twice before he thunks down onto his backside.

Is that wonderment Louis can see in Harry’s huge seafoam green eyes? He’s not sure, but Louis
thinks so, finding it difficult to divert his attention as they gaze up at him. Then the other boy
suddenly erupts in laughter, curling over himself, his upper body instantly lowering towards his
bent knees. Louis can’t help staring, as giggles course through Harry, making him jiggle like
freshly set Jello being pulled from the fridge.

“I think you’ve got Swayze beat with that move,” Harry chortles out, tears at the corners of his
eyes.

Aside from watching Harry in absolute awe, Louis doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he
rubs his hands from his waist to his legs repeatedly to release some of the energy building up in his
limbs. He’s trying to push the feeling of his ego swelling, elicited by Harry’s happy reaction, to the
pit of his stomach, where he puts most of his emotions. He clears his throat.

“Should we try and get you down this hill now?”

Harry wipes his eyes with the back of his mittened hands and pushes himself up to a standing
position. “Alright. Let’s do this.” his eyes are twinkling and his smile confident for the first time
that day.

His eyes are actually fooking twinkling! The boy’s an angel.

Louis reigns in his stupid amount of adoration, as he calmly reiterates the instructions, he’d given
moments before. Then he watches Harry make three failed attempts at getting down the small
slope and trudging back up the short space, after inevitably falling. Harry's lips are pouty and his
eyes set on the snow at his feet.

Harry's got this. He's got it...

Louis is holding his breath, his fists clenched, as Harry sets off again. Harry’s arms are extended
out to the side, one a little higher than the other in a nervous, expectant position, but they seem to
be keeping him steady. His upper body teeters all over the place and Louis winces, but Harry’s still
upright and it’s adorable. And then, astonishing both of them, Harry has done it. He even manages
to turn when he reaches the bottom, so he’s facing Louis, eyes popped in excitement. He throws
both arms in the air, hands balled, letting out a loud Woooooooo. His expression suddenly shifts to
surprise, as he wobbles and falls on his arse again.

“Louis, did you see that? I did it! I did it!” Harry shouts animatedly from where he now sits.

Louis is happy they’re in this rather secluded space, as Harry’s reaction would definitely have
drawn some eyeballs, if there were any around. It’s a spot most of the instructors choose for
newbies, as it’s easier to get the basics right without being surrounded by the folks on the bunny
slope bombing down the hill with little to no knowledge of what they're doing. Also, Niall had
advised Louis of Harry’s aversion to the tow-rope (and who could blame him, those things are so
embarrassing).

“You smashed it!” Louis calls, then flipping his board, he steps in and rides down to where Harry
is. In an effort to leverage Harry's current excitement to combat his previous nerves, Louis helps
the boy up and says, “Ok c’mon. Now we move onto a real hill.”

“Wait! With a tow rope?” Harry’s expression immediately turns flat.

“Nah, we’ll skip that. Straight to the chair lift.”

“No, Louis. I’m not ready.”

Why does Louis’ heart skip a beat when Harry says his name? It’s gross. He hasn’t had a crush
like this, since his Zac Efron days. That’s a time he would like to take back, he thinks with a
shudder.

“You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“You promise?” Harry’s face unexpectedly softens.

Louis looks Harry in the eye and crosses his heart.

**

The line at the lift is fairly busy and Louis is worried that even though he’s gotten Harry here, he
might not actually get him to go any farther. The expression on his face screams pure dread. Louis
has had tons of students that were scared of the lift before, though, and as long as he pulled the bar
down quick enough and distracted them through the ride, they were always fine.

“Will we have to go with other people?”

“Um usually, but I know the girl working. I’ll let her know we need to ride just the two of us.
Follow me. She might let us sneak in the side over there.”

Lucy is a pretty chill girl. She had flirted with Louis when she first got here, until she realized she
didn’t have a chance.

“Hey Lu!”

“Hey Lou!”

It’s their usual cheesy way to greet each other.

“Listen, Harry here," Louis points over his shoulder to where Harry's standing a bit farther back, "is
a bit squeamish about the lift. I wanna get him on quick and just us. You good with that?”

“Fer sure! Just wait over here and I’ll get you on.”

“Perfect! You're the best.” Louis winks because there's nothing wrong with a little flirting, even if
it's not going anywhere.

Louis turns to Harry, motioning him over.

“When Lucy gives us the go, we stand side by side on that red line and then just sit when the chair
gets close enough, yeah?” He looks to make sure Harry confirms he's understood. Harry swallows
hard and nods. They stand just at the edge of where the chair comes through, off to the side and
ahead of the rest of the line. Two groups go by, as Lucy motions to a third to stay where they are.
Louis watches Harry’s eyes follow the chair, as it journeys around it’s turn to meet the skiers who
plop happily on it. From his peripherals, he can see Lucy wave that it’s their turn.

“Alright, c'mon.” Louis can’t help noticing how stiff Harry is, but the boy manages to follow him
to where they need to stand.

Almost obsessively staring over his shoulder, looking like a rabbit that’s just heard an unexpected
noise, Harry lets out a shaky, breathless, "now?" when the chair is within inches of them.

“Wait… Ok now.”

Both boys plunk down on the seat that continues to roll forward, with them on it. Louis pulls the
metal bar down, as Harry let’s out a huge sigh.

“That was awful.” He’s looking down at the hill beyond their feet.”

“Wait, what was?” Louis’s confused because normally students who don’t like the lift stare
straight ahead the whole ride.

“Getting on. I don’t like that it moves the whole time and like coordinating when to sit. I’ve gotten
used to it on skis, kind of, but it always gives me anxiety. I thought I was gonna puke everywhere
just now.”

“I appreciate you not doing that,” Louis teases.

Harry barely gives him a smile, but it’s evident that he’s trying.

“So, what do I do to get off? Like, when and how do I steer with only one foot in this thing.” He
lifts the board up with the foot it’s currently attached to.

“That’s what he said,” Louis jokes.

“What?” Harry looks at him like Louis might be the biggest moron he's ever met.

Ok, so, maybe now’s not the time for innuendo jokes.

“Um you just get up when I tell you. Put your back foot on the board and hold my hand. I’ll help
steer you in the right direction.”

“Ok,” Harry nods and it looks like he's a little more at ease.

The ride is quiet. Louis feeling awkward and unsure what to say, while Harry stares at his feet and
thinks, his brow slightly puckered. Louis wants to play with the curls poking out at the back of
Harry’s hat by his neck to make him feel better, but obviously he’s not going to. Instead, he eyes
the boy and wonders how to ease the thoughts that are clearly running through his brain.

“I’m gonna raise the bar.”

Harry looks to him wide eyed and nods.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got this, okay?”

“Mmmm huh.” Harry mutters.

The little slope where Harry and Louis need to depart the lift is quickly approaching.

“Ok get ready.”

Harry tenses and it’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with his feet.

“Like this.” Louis shows him the angle to hold his board and where to put his back foot.

Harry mimics him.

“Ok… go.” Louis lifts off the seat as he grabs the other boy’s hand and pulls him off to the left of
the chair. The only thing is, Louis hadn’t factored in his big gloves and Harry’s mittens, one of
which is dangling in his grasp without Harry attached to it. And he can’t help but laugh because, of
course, Harry panics and his arms flail and he ends up in a bit of a ball not far from the lift. He just
looks so cute. Louis can’t control himself. It’s not until he realizes that Harry’s not getting up and
the next set of passengers are about to disembark from the chair, that somethings wrong.

Shit! They're gonna hit him.

This group is fairly skilled and they miraculously manage to maneuver around the lump that is
Harry and his board. However, Louis does hear one say, “New snowboarders are the worst. They
shouldn’t even let them on the lifts.”

If Louis wasn’t wearing his work jacket, he would tell the guy off, but as it is, he just glares then
scoots over to where Harry is and picks him up by the armpits.

“Harold, c’mon. We need to get out of the way.” He waves at the lift operator to stop the chair, as
Harry won’t look up, or say anything. Louis tries to scoot his head lower to see Harry’s face. His
height usually means this isn’t a problem, but Harry’s shoulders are all hunched.

“Are you hurt?”

Finally, the other boy looks up. His eyes are watery, making his lashes clump together and Louis is
surprised to see a few unruly tears run slowly down his pale cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” The words rush out of his mouth. There are people milling
around to see what’s happened and the lift operator is signaling for the pair to get out of the way.

“I told you I wasn’t ready. You let me go and then you laughed at me,” Harry stammers quietly in
response. His green eyes are so vibrant Louis thinks looking in them might physically harm him.

“You promised and then you laughed at me when you knew I was scared.” There’s an edge to
Harry’s voice now and even though tears linger on his eyelashes and cheeks, the stern look he’s
shooting at Louis makes it clear that he’s pissed.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. I’m an idiot, but we need to move.”

Harry let’s Louis lead him out of the way, but his gaze is still hard.

“I don’t know what sick fascination you get out of being mean to me, but…” Harry can’t finish his
sentence. His cheeks are red and he’s not looking at Louis anymore. Instead, he unfastens his board
puts it under his arm and walks away without another word. Louis’s surprised when he continues
on down the ski hill. He sticks to the side, somewhat out of the way. It’s manageable and he only
loses his footing a few times from what Louis can tell. Louis wants to chase after him, or tell him
he’s not allowed to do that, but he’s embarrassed. So, he stays where he is, still holding onto
Harry’s empty mitten, watching as Harry bumbles his way down the hill.

**

Louis' work day finally ends and he finds himself charging into the staff residence with abandon.
It’s a short condo like building and it reminds Louis of the colour beige. Each unit is set-up in a
circle with five bedrooms skirting the one side, a huge communal bathroom in the middle and a
kitchen and sitting room take up the opposite end. The boys have plastered it in music and
snowboarding posters and the place is a bit of a dump. A couple mice visit every now and again
(likely it’s different mice, but the boys choose not to think that). They’ve named them Tony Danza
and Javier.

“Lads, who’s home? I need help. I fooked up bad!” Louis shouts.

First Zayn, then Liam come from Liam’s room looking a bit rumpled. Louis wants to comment on
it, but there’s no time. He needs to fix this.

“What’d you do now?” Liam asks in a fatherly way, as if he doesn’t get into all kinds of scrapes
himself. Louis actually has the best time goofing off with Liam because they kind of understand
each other in a way that Niall and Zayn don’t. Zayn clearly gets Liam in another way and thank
goodness. Louis had originally thought he and Liam would work, but now he knows that was a
crazy idea. He’s just glad he didn’t make a move that both he and Liam would regret.

“I made Harry cry!” Louis confesses in a whine.

“You what?!” Zayn is a pretty quiet guy. He can get boisterous at times, but he’s also self-
conscious and tends to filter himself because of this. Not right now though. He’s got an eyebrow
quirked and he’s assessing Louis roughly.

“Because of the short thing? Louis that’s really mean.”

“No. Not because of the short thing. I didn’t mean to. I made a mistake.”

“Explain.”

So, Louis does explain. They’re all instructors, they know the drill with newbies and the chair lift.
Maybe Louis did push too quick and he definitely didn’t understand where Harry’s anxieties lay.
That was the big issue. He could have been more thorough, if he hadn’t assumed it was a heights
thing, completely forgetting the clumsy factor. How did he not know, though, since Niall had
specifically called out the tow rope? Louis’ inner monologue rolls on as he details what happened
to Liam and Zayn.

“You gotta give him his space right now,” Zayn advises when Louis’ through. “He’s probably
embarrassed. You’re pretty intimidating, you know. Like, flirting isn’t just sticking your middle
finger up at someone and hoping they’ll think it’s lovable.”

“Now, you and I both know that’s a lie,” Louis says as he flips off Zayn.

“Heeeeey! Stop flirting with my boyfriend,” Liam whines and lightly shoves Louis.

Zayn looks to Liam. “Boyfriend? That’s um the first time you’ve said that. Is that what we are?”

Liam looks to the floor blushing slightly, “I hope so.”

Louis needs this to stop right now. Because yes, it is a cute moment for his friends, but he needs to
not feel like a dick about Harry. “C’mon, I need you two focused on me please!”

Liam turns to Louis with a stern look. “No, Louis. We’re gonna go make-out now. You need to
leave the boy alone. What good is gonna come out of all this anyway? You have to go back to
England at some point and he lives here. So, what? You’re gonna mess around with him for a
month and then that’s it. The kid’s already broken hearted, if you can’t tell.”

“That’s not. No. I mean… I wasn’t going to.”

Liam clearly doesn’t want to hear it, as he walks past Louis with a huff.
Zayn waits, resting his hand on Louis shoulder. “Give him time to cool off and then apologize. It’s
all you can do.” His brown eyes are sage and caring, like they hold all the wisdom in the world, but
they’re not giving up all their secrets right now, that’s for sure.

**

Louis can’t sit still. He’s bounced from one couch to the other waiting for Niall to get home. When
he finally pushes through the door, with two boxes of pizza in his arms, Louis pounces on him like
a rowdy lion cub.

“Nialler, I need you. Liam and Zayn have forsaken me.”

“What? Why?” Niall laughs at him. “I’m guessing they have good reason?”

“So yeah, maybe they do.”

“Spill it.”

“I made Harry cry, but not on purpose.”

“Oh, Lou. Seriously?”

“I said not on purpose.”

“How?”

“The chair lift,” Louis cringes.

“Looooouis! I told you he had a thing with the tow rope and the lift. I meant for you to take it easy
on him. You know I only gave you that lesson because you practically begged.”

“I know. I get it. I guess I didn’t listen. I just thought he was embarrassed by the tow, like the rest
of us, and a little afraid of heights. I was wrong.”

“You wrong? Not shocking.” They walk from the hallway to the kitchen where Niall sets the
pizzas on the counter and grabs a can of pop from the fridge.

“Cut it out. I feel really bad. I know I like to goof around and prank people, but this is not that. I
thought I was doing the right thing, but you know how I am with paying attention.”

“Shite at it.”

“Yup.”

“So, will you go see him?”

“What, now?”

“Ya, bring him pizza and pop and apologize for me?”

“We don’t even know what cabin he’s in and what are you guys gonna eat?”

“Zayn and Liam are eating each others faces as we speak and ask at the desk. Just say he forgot
something at his lesson. Oh, I got it! His mitten!”

Niall rolls his eyes, but grabs another can from the fridge and accepts the colourful mitten, Louis
hands him.

“You know you owe me big for this right?

**

Niall’s not sure how he got roped into this. He knows how he got into this particular situation, but
in general he isn’t clear how he ended up being Louis’ fixer of things. And honestly, Louis only
occasionally gets himself into trouble. It's usually because of his sassy attitude, but Niall’s being
particularly hard on him now because, even though, he’s only known Harry a couple of days, he
can already tell he is the best kind of human. And, so is Louis. That’s why Niall keeps pushing
Harry to see how great his friend really is. Even if it is only for a month, Niall’s sure they could
have fun together. So, here he is, pockets full of soda, pizza box in hand, knocking at cabin 23.

Harry answers the door, looking fresh from the shower in flannel pyjama bottoms and a cozy
jumper. His hair is mostly loose aside from the teeniest bit caught in a hair clip right at the front.
Niall needs to remember this to describe it to Louis later because, even if he messed up, this look
isn’t something he should have to miss out on.

Harry clearly wasn’t expecting Niall, his expression stunned and a little sheepish.

“Um hi.”

“Hi! I brought food. Can I come in?”

“I just ordered room service, but we can share. So, Louis told you?” Harry steps out of the way, so
Niall can walk past.

Niall kicks off his boots haphazardly and makes himself at home, putting the drinks and pizza on
the coffee table, while he settles into the couch, “I have to apologize for that. It was my fault,
really.”

“How so?” Harry disbelievingly cocks an eyebrow and takes the spot at the other end of the couch.

“I had something urgent come up. Anyway, I’m a shite friend and I forgot to tell Louis about your
thing with the tow and the lift. He really was trying to be a good teacher. Like, he thought you just
needed to get the whole chair thing over with because nine out of ten times, that's true…” Niall lets
his words trail off and hopes Harry can’t see through his lies.

“It’s just that he laughed, Niall. I told him I didn’t want to do it. He could tell I was scared. I’m
sure of it and then he laughed at me.” Harry looks down at his pyjama clad legs. “And I was
embarrassed. Like exactly what I was worried about came true and he was laughing at me. It just
really sucked.”

“That’s just Lou. He wasn’t laughing at you. I wish I could explain it better. Oh here, before I
forget, he asked me to give this back.” Niall hands Harry his forgotten mitten, which Harry regards
with a look Niall can't place. Sadness maybe. Can eyes look lonely? Because that's the vibe Harry's
giving off right now, even if Niall can't pinpoint why.

“Can we just eat?”

“You’re singing my tune there…. Hey, what’s your last name, by the way?”

“Styles, why?”
“Because we need a better nickname. Louis’s got a thing for nicknames and it’s easier, if it isn’t
one you hate. Styles works.”

“I don’t mind Harold.”

“Really? Of everything you could pick, Harold, is what you want to go with?”

“Louis said it today. I don’t hate it.”

“So, you’ll give him another chance to be friends?”

“I dunno. I thought we were gonna eat?”

“Yeah, we are. What’d you order?”

“Cheeseburger and fries.”

“Sweet!” Niall opens the pizza box displaying a large pepperoni to Harry. “Dig in.”

The pair munch away happily, then share the burger and fries when they arrive as well. Harry
admits that he told Gemma and Anne to go for dinner and drinks without him, opting for a long
soak in the bath instead.

“You can stay here, if you want. Like if you’re too lazy to go back to your place. It’ll be like a
slumber party. Where do you guys live, anyway?”

“That's forward." Niall teases. "Can you imagine, though? Louis would kill me!”

“Why?” Harry ignores Niall's joke completely.

“Oh, um. I owe him for helping out today. Promised him beer and he’ll expect me to pay-up
quick.”

“He kind of messed up though, right, so I’d say he’s SOL on the beer front.”

Niall’s laugh is stifled. “True. True. Wanna throw on a movie?”

“The Notebook?” Harry teases.

“How 'bout Anchorman?”

“Deal! But where DO you guys live? Not to pry. I’ve just been wondering.”

“Have you? Why?”

“I dunno just found myself thinking about it. I pictured some weird Lost Boys like vampire hole.
That movie used to scare me, like a lot, but I'd watch it whenever it was on tv because Michael was
hawwwt.”

Niall full on chokes at this. Having to cough through his last bite. “What? I totally pegged you as a
Keifer fan!"

"No way! Jason Patric, or bust for me." Niall throws back a couple glugs of soft drink to clear his
throat, “we live in the big boring building at the far far end of the resort. Past the staff bar. You'll
know it when you see it. It’s super bland. Like if tofu was a building.”
“I like tofu, but yeah, that's so not Lost Boys.”

“Not quite. I’ll bring you by sometime. It’s chill.” Niall has started fiddling with the remote and
once the TV pops on, he scrolls to Netflix, enters his password and finds their movie. “Alright,
settle in, Styles. This is gonna be fun.”

**

It’s morning, Niall has a gross taste in his mouth and Louis is officially going to murder him. He
cracks an eye to see Harry curled up on the other end of the couch hugging a pillow, with one of his
own legs haphazardly slung over him.

Will it make Lou less mad, if I get a pic of him all sleepy with that clip still in. Is that weird?
Whatever, if it will save my life, Harry won’t mind. He’s a good lad. He doesn’t wanna see me
dead and Louis in jail.

Niall surreptitiously pulls out his phone and snaps a pic. Even though he had told Harry he couldn’t
stay, they launched a rousingly competitive Shania Twain sing off, that he couldn’t walk away
from. Then, when Anne and Gemma came home, it became an official competition, with the
newcomers acting as judges, and he forgot about Louis entirely. Plus, Anne made hot chocolate
and that, with all the snacks they’d stuffed in their faces, had both Niall and Harry dozing before
Anne and Gemma had even headed off to bed.

Louis won’t care about any of this though and Niall expects the silent treatment for at least the rest
of the week. He gives Harry a light kick in the ribs. It takes a minute, but Harry cracks a sleepy
eye, then grins at Niall over his pillow.

“You were right! That was fun,” his voice is rough.

“It totally was! You gonna come out tonight? Bring Gemma. Hey, bring Anne for that matter.
Your mom’s hot!”

Harry plugs his ears and starts humming aggressively. “You can go now. Niall,” he says loudly his
fingers still in his ears.

“Ok, but are you gonna come out?”

“Text me later and we’ll see.”

“Alright.” That was something else he could use to fend off Louis’ anger. He now had Harry’s
phone number. Niall focuses on this thought, as he gives Harry a hearty pat on the leg before
heading home to whatever Louis and fate have in store for him.
 Chapter 4

‘Harry you gotta come over and bring Anne and Gemma. It’s urgent.

We’re on Snowball Lane. Make fun of me for it later. Suite 201. Just come now.’

Niall’s cryptic texts ping through to Harry as he relaxes with Anne and Gemma in front of the TV,
take-out Pad Thai perched in their laps. The light from his phone easily distracts him from the
movie, Serendipity, since it’s on regular cable and there’ve been more commercials than anything
else, most of which are Christmas related. That’s something Harry’s not ready to think about,
feeling anything, but festive. The season is hitting especially hard, since they leave just a few days
before Christmas and going home is really not something he wants to consider. His new job
prospects at zero, the possibility of seeing Olly out and about, and the idea of not seeing Louis, all
contributing factors to his holiday unease.

Ugh, no. Where’d that come from? Louis' been a total jerk. There’s no wallowing over boys who
make you cry and definitely no being sad about the prospect of not seeing them anymore. BUT
Louis is so cute and funny, when he’s not being a total pain and sometimes even when he is.

Harry recalls the excitement on Louis’ face when Harry made it to the bottom of the hill that first
time. He was proud, but as if he knew Harry could do it all along. And, how his own body thrilled
at Louis’ light touches, when correcting his snowboarding stance. The little shockwaves of
anticipation apparent even through his beefy snowsuit, which at the time he wished he could rip off
to feel the grazes directly on his skin. His face warms at the memory and he shakes his head
slightly, bringing him back to the present, “Um, Niall just messaged me. He says we all need to go
to his place urgently.”

“All? Even mum?”

“Apparently. Hang on.”

‘Niall, you’re not trying to hit on my mother, are you?’

‘She’s cute, but no. Just get over here. It’s really important.’

‘Alright. Eating and we’ll be there.’

‘Now, Harry!’

‘Okaaaaayyyyy!’

“We need to leave now. I guess, it’s like urgent urgent.” Harry can feel panic rising in his chest.
Clearly, Louis didn’t kill Niall, but what could possibly be such a big deal that they need to drop
what they’re doing and run over? And why drag his mum too?

“Is everyone ok?” Anne asks, so Harry types the question back to Niall.

'Yes, for now. Joking... kind of. Will you leave already?!'

Anne and Gemma are packing away their leftovers in the fridge when Harry looks up from the last
message and hands his over, as well. Then they all bundle up in jackets, hats, mittens and scarves,
for the chilly trek over to the boy's apartment. Prepping for the cold is essential, since it will be
especially noticeable after sitting in front of a fire for over an hour.
It’s a twenty-minute walk from their cabin to the staff quarters, but is easy enough to find with
Niall’s texts to guide them along the way. Anne’s the first one to comment, when she catches a
glimpse of the dingy entryway. “Oh, these poor boys. Working so hard and coming home to this.”

“Could be worse, mum,” Gemma chimes in.

“Please tell me your residence doesn’t look like this Gem, or I’m keeping you here with me next
semester.”

Gemma swats at her mom affectionately, as they climb the stairs to the second floor. They don’t
even have to knock when they get to the landing because Niall’s in the hallway. His hair’s wet and
he stinks like black licorice.

“Lou-IS!” Niall shouts on seeing them.

Louis pokes his head out the door and he also has wet hair, but his is pulled up with a hair clip to
keep it together. The smell with the two of them in the vicinity is now overpowering.

“Ok tell them,” Niall orders, looking at Louis like a disgruntled pet owner would to their cute little
puppy who recently peed on the carpet. It’s clearly a pseudo reprimand, full of fake grumbles and
harsh stares because who could be mad at a puppy, no matter what they did. Harry understands this
completely. Louis has a way of creeping into your heart with one sassy remark and a well-timed
smile. A way that means hard feelings seem to evaporate in his presence whether Harry wants them
to, or not.

Louis looks at Harry and his family wordlessly for a moment then his eyes dart to the floor.

“Louis gave us all head lice,” Niall supplies.

“No, actually, Billy Krogan gave us all head lice, he just used me as a vehicle to deliver it to the
rest of you.”

“Pardon?” Harry is not equipped to take in this information. His hair is kind of his baby, based on
how much he loves it. Not currently, due to its awkward length, but aside from that. He
unconsciously touches the tips of it in shock, or an effort to protect it. His mind is on hyperdrive
and his hand reacts automatically while his brain tries to catch-up. The whole time he stares at
Louis, who’s uncharacteristically hunching his shoulders.

“And because you were over last night, we might all have it?” Anne looks to Niall softly.

“Harry for sure. There’s no way he doesn’t. They slept on the same couch, for god’s sake.” The
words fly from Gemma’s mouth quickly and Niall’s eyes pop, the second they do.

Before Louis squares his shoulders to his standard, confident stance, he sends Niall an
unmistakably wounded look from under his long lashes.

He really is giving off sad puppy vibes.

Then he’s back to his usual self. No more shame, or embarrassment, just straight-forward Louis.

“So yeah, that’s the issue and now we need to treat you all. We have enough lice spray for the
whole resort in here. So, c’mon in and don’t mind the mess.” He gingerly wraps an arm around
Anne and Gemma, only actually touching them on the shoulders with his hands, leading them into
the apartment.
The place is not what Harry expected, from the innovative shape, to the dorm like feel. They walk
past a bunch of bedrooms. Harry peeps in each wondering, which is Louis’. The fact that he might
have head lice and all he can think about is Louis’ bedroom, should cause him concern, but he’s
too interested in knowing everything he can about the other boy to care.

Niall catches Harry’s eyes scanning the doors. "That one’s empty right now, then mine, Zayn’s,
Louis’ and Liam’s." He points to each door he names off. And, Harry wants to laugh when he sees
the messy state of the one, he’s been seeking. Clothes, video games and candy wrappers litter the
floor. On a table by the small bed with its rumpled duvet, sit framed pictures of, who Harry can
only assume are, Louis’ family. Looks like there’s lots of them too by the amount of frames and
faces in each.

There isn’t much time to look though, as they quickly approach a fairly large open space. Stepping
into the main sitting room, they’re met with Liam and Zayn. Liam’s on the couch and Zayn’s
cross-legged on the floor in front of him, wearing a grumpy look that tells Harry he has a similar
amount of pride in his dark locks.

“Welcome,” Liam smiles wide, as Niall introduces the pair to Anne.

Zayn just mumbles something incoherent and smolders looking at the floor in front of him.

Louis busies himself by grabbing a kitchen chair that he plops in the living room, “Anne, Gemma
are you good checking each other? I’m sure you know the drill, but take sections of the other
person’s hair and look for either live lice, or nits. Not sure how quick they can lay their eggs, but
they’re like little creamy coloured round things close to the scalp, usually at the back of the head
and behind the ears.”

“He read like the whole internet on lice and has just been spewing off facts at us all night,” Niall
says conspiratorially, but not, because Louis can hear him and so can everyone else in the room.

Anne nods, “we know the drill, but I will say it’s been a while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Louis, no. I didn’t mean it like that at all. Could happen to anyone. Especially, around children. I
just meant my little babies aren’t so little anymore.” Anne smiles fondly at Harry and Gemma.

“Muuuuum,” Harry whines, but he knows he’s smiling. His mother is the sweetest and he can’t not
enjoy all her doting. Gemma, on the other hand is plopping on the ground mimicking Zayn’s
seated position in front of the chair Louis supplied, while Niall clicks on the TV and perches on the
end of an empty loveseat. Liam continues to comb through Zayn’s hair with a grimace on his face,
while Louis stands awkwardly between the kitchen and living room.

“Hate to tell you this, babe, but you’ve got ‘em.” Liam pokes his head around to catch Zayn’s eye
before the other boy groans and lets his face drop in his hands. “Don’t worry. I’m on it. You’ll be
louse free in no time.”

Zayn just moans from behind his hands, as Liam grabs a bottle of spray off the couch beside him.

Harry’s been too busy watching what’s happening to consider what he should be doing. Now that
he’s aware of his standing idly by, he can see Niall’s engrossed in the TV and Anne, now seated
behind Gemma, is looking closely at her daughter’s scalp, like a scientist reviewing a sample
through a microscope, completely focused on the task at hand. Louis is the only one free. His
hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s standing in that same unsure way as he was earlier. He’s
not fully facing Harry, but his eyes are as far to his peripherals, as they can be. The side that points
in Harry’s direction. When he catches Harry looking at him, he glances to his feet, but quickly
recovers and gestures oddly at Harry’s head while he stumbles out, “Want me to... um… check for
you?”

“Not really,” Harry grumbles. He’s being weird. He knows it, but he still wants to be mad at Louis
for… for, well everything, really.

“Harry,” Anne scolds over Gemma’s head. Gemma’s grinning at him like she did when they were
young and he got in trouble. “Be nice. And you should take him up on the offer. I’m going to be a
while over here. Do you know how much hair your sister has?”

“Ya, Harry. Listen to your mum!” Niall chimes in with a goofy smile.

Liam and Zayn are giggling where they sit, which, at least Zayn’s mood’s been brightened, if
Harry’s looking for a silver lining to being chastised in front of his new “kind of” friends. Liam is
apparently the industrious sort, as he’s almost done spraying Zayn’s hair already.

“Ok why are you all ganging up on me? You do remember he almost killed me with that insane
drink the other day and… the other thing…..”

“What other thing?” Anne and Gemma say in unison, as they look up confused. They must have
known something was off the previous day, but they hadn’t pried and Harry hadn’t felt like talking
about it.

“Nothing. Whatever.” He can tell the rest of the room is aware of the whole crying situation and
however much he tells himself crying is completely normal, especially for him because he tends to
do it often, he’s still a little embarrassed.

Louis’ been avoiding his gaze the whole time, clearly hating this conversation, as much as he is.

Anne’s back to being fully focused on Gemma’s hair, as she says lightly, “I’m sure Louis is sorry,
aren’t you Louis?”

“I am,” Louis responds earnestly in a quiet voice that draws the attention of everyone in the room.
Louis is rarely quiet, so when he is, it has the opposite affect than it does for most people.

“You see, Harry.” Anne breaks the awkwardness floating in the air with her three simple words, as
she flips over another section of Gemma’s brown tresses.

“Ok,” Harry responds just as quietly as Louis. “I would appreciate your help.”

Louis grins huge and it’s infectious. Harry can feel his insides lighten in response, becoming
bubbly and satisfied, similar to the aftereffects of having a really hearty laugh. Louis crosses the
room and gently touches Harry’s back to direct him to the empty place in front of the couch beside
where Niall is sitting. He rests his hands on Harry’s shoulders and gives him the slightest push
towards the floor. Harry crosses his legs, as he sits, like Zayn and Gemma have, while Louis plops
himself on the couch one leg on either side of Harry.

At first Harry sits pin straight, almost holding his breath, awaiting the whole thing to be over, but
when Louis’ fingers lightly remove the fabric he’s wrapped around his head to keep his curls at
bay, then deftly begin separating the hair at the back of his skull, his body begins to melt. He loves
having his hair played with. He rests back against the base of the couch, the inside of Louis' thigh
warm against his arm and his light breaths ruffling the hair by Harry’s ear. The chatter in the room,
and the constant drone of the TV with the slow movement of Louis’ hands, combine to make the
fluttering shut of Harry’s eyelids inevitable.

The room is quieter, when Harry opens his eyes again. And empty, apparently. Aside for him and
Louis. Louis has stopped checking his hair and the smell of licorice is almost sickening. He’s
leaning hard against Louis’ leg, which must be uncomfortable for the other boy.

Harry clears his throat and straightens up feeling shockingly relaxed.

“You’re awake,” Louis says quietly from behind him. “Anne and Gemma were lice free, so they
headed out to go find housekeeping and request an extra clean of your cabin. You on the other
hand, didn’t fare so well.”

Harry turns to see a tender grimace on Louis' face. One similar to the one Liam gave Zayn earlier.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep. I didn’t even realize I was tired.” Harry reaches up to touch his curls, but
Louis lightly slaps his hand away. “They’re wet. You’ve got five minutes and we can go wash the
stuff out.”

“Where’s everybody else?” Harry rubs his eye sleepily with his hand in a fist.

“The last I heard they were doing nit removal in the washroom. Guessing they should be done
shortly.”

“Wait! Don’t you need to do your hair? You’ve had that stuff on since I got here.”

“Oh, yeah... I do. I just didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Um, no! You’re not gonna burn all your hair off because of me. I don’t think so.” Harry jumps up
quickly for how languid his body feels. He sways slightly as he grabs Louis’ hand and drags him
back to where he saw the large washroom. It’s almost like the kind you would find in public school
with three separate toilet stalls and two fairly large showers. There are towels everywhere, but no
sign of the other boys.

Harry takes his socks off and rolls his pants legs up twice. He can see, from where he stands, that,
luckily, the shower nozzle is the handheld kind. “Louis hurry up. Take your shirt off,” he instructs,
since Louis is standing awkwardly watching on with no indication that he plans on moving from
his current spot.

“Ok hold your horses,” Louis quips, seemingly brought back to the moment. He slips his shirt over
his head avoiding his hair at the collar.

Harry’s breath catches as he takes in the, inked, tanned skin running over some serious muscles
and just the hint of pudge in the lower belly area. Harry wonders if Louis is actually magic. It’s
winter and he looks golden brown. And the cute tiny bit of chub he’s sporting is beyond endearing
and shockingly attractive, like if Harry could kiss it, he would.

“Well, let’s go, Harold. You were the one in a rush, right?” Louis is smirking at him; it's becoming
a consistent part of their interactions.

“Right. Yup. Get over here, then." Harry easily figures out the shower knob and rotates it with one
hand under the water until he’s found an appropriate heat. Then, as Louis approaches, he slips
carefully out of his shirt as well. He hopes the quiet intake of breath he hears is a good thing, as he
lightly rests his hand on Louis’ hourglass waist to direct him to the shower.

“Ok bend over and close your eyes. I’ll wash the stuff out for you.” Harry reaches up and aims the
nozzle at the wall, so as not to soak them both. “Clean towels?”

Louis points to a shelf that is literally chock full of fluffy white resort towels, even with all the ones
that already litter the tiled floor. Then he steps to lip of the shower and bends over, as instructed.

Harry is careful, as he washes out Louis’ hair. He does his best not to get water everywhere, most
importantly not in Louis’ eyes. He puts his fingers under the showerhead repeatedly to monitor the
water temperature. When he runs his fingers through Louis’ hair, to make sure the spray has been
washed clean, he takes a moment to slowly massage his scalp, especially behind his ears, and he's
almost certain he catches Louis moan under his breath in return.

“Ok you’re done.” He finally says after minutes of the only noise being the patter of water on tile.
He lets the showerhead hang facing the wall, the water still running, while he grabs Louis a towel,
which the other boy gratefully accepts. Louis, of course, roughly rubs the towel on his face and
then his hair. When he pulls it away, he looks like a porcupine with spikes shooting off in all
directions.

“Now it’s your turn, Harold. We’ll do the delousing after we wash your hair out.”

Harry complies and gets in the same position Louis had. Louis is not quite so good at directing the
water, though, and Harry can feel his chest and pants getting soaked, as Louis rubs through Harry’s
curls with his free hand. At points, as Louis tries to get the front and sides of Harry’s head, where
it’s a bit of a reach, Harry can feel the light rub of Louis’s naked wet skin against his own. He’s
willing himself to think of anything else because he definitely doesn’t need a re-enactment of what
Louis already witnessed when catching Harry outside the spa. With his head wrapped up in
thoughts like this, Harry barely notices when he hears Louis mutter, “oomph”, but he can see one
of his feet slip on the wet tile, as the boy crashes into Harry's back. Harry goes flying forward, arm
not getting any purchase, as he stretches it in front of him. He lands on his bum, somehow, with
Louis splayed in a jumble of limbs across him. He's not hurt and based on Louis' grumbling, the
only thing wounded on him, is his ego. The showerhead is swinging and soaking them both when
Niall runs in to see what the commotion is all about.

“Do I even want to know what’s going on in here?” Niall asks, as Louis plants a wet hand on
Harry’s chest and pushes himself up. Harry can tell that he’s not putting much weight on that hand,
so the one on the tile must be the one doing the brunt of the work to get his body upright and he
wonders if Louis is merely acting on the same urge Harry's been trying to resist. The overpowering
need to feel Louis slick skin against his palms. Harry chalks it up to wishful thinking on his part.

“I slipped.”

“Sure, you did, Lou. Haven’t you tortured poor Harry, here, enough?” Niall shuts the shower off,
as he teases Louis.

“It’s ok. Am good.” Harry splutters from the floor, giggles ready to burst out of him, if Louis didn’t
currently look so serious. His hand lightly touches the spot on his chest where Louis’ had been
moments before.

“Alright, well, both of you sit. Since you’re soaked you might as well stay in those clothes until
we’re done. And no point you trying to help each other because it just ends in catastrophe.” Niall
waves a hand around to use the current situation as proof. “Li, Zayn, come help me pick eggs out
of these boys’ heads," he calls out the door.

The next twenty minutes is spent with Niall, Liam and Zayn, carefully going through every hair on
Harry and Louis’ heads with special combs and wiping anything they find on a paper towel beside
them.

“Louis are you sure Harry even had lice? I haven’t seen one nit in here?”

“I’m positive.” Louis says firmly, giving Niall dagger eyes.

“I think he’s done. I have gone through each hair a hundred times, it feels like, and nothing.”

“Louis’ done too, but you lucked out. I think I’m gonna barf after what we pulled out of here.”
Zayn says, as he mimics gagging.

Liam collects all the wet towels in a plastic bag. “Throw your clothes in here and I’ll take them to
the laundromat tomorrow. Whose got something for Harry to wear? He’s soaked through.”

Before Harry, or anyone else can speak, Louis chimes in, “I do!”

Liam looks as if he is going to comment, but closes his mouth after receiving a hard stare from
Louis, similar to the one he shot Niall seconds before. Louis grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him up
and out of the bathroom, leaving the other boys to tidy the leftover mess.

“Don’t worry. I have a pair of pyjamas my mom sent me. I’ve never worn them, so they’re lice free
and if you want to stay you can crash in my bed. I changed the sheets already. I’ll sleep on the
couch.”

“Louis?” Harry stops the other boy, as they reach his door frame. “Why are you being so nice to
me?”

“I am nice. I just… It’s not always… I sometimes make mistakes, ok?”

“Ok,” Harry nods that he understands.

“But you’re getting the floor all wet, so c’mon.”

He drags Harry into his room, where Harry has to dodge a pile of stuff on the floor just to get in.
Louis riffles through one of his cupboard drawers and pulls out a red flannel PJ set.

“But I don’t have to stay here. I can go back to my cabin.”

“In my too small pyjamas? Just stay. It’s not a big deal.” Then Louis switches thoughts, as he
glances to the sleepwear in his hands. “Not sure why my mum sends me these. I think she thinks
I’m freezing over here, or somefing. It’s sweet, though.” He hands Harry the matching set. “Like I
said, they might be a bit small on you, but better than what you’d end up with from the other guys.”

“Thanks.” Harry takes the pyjamas and holds them briefly to his chest then realizing he’s about to
get them wet, he pulls them away again. He doesn’t push to find out what Louis means regarding
the other boy’s clothes, he’s more than happy to wear what Louis has supplied. More than happy.

“I’ll change over there and you can change where you are. Faces to the wall. Alright, Harold?”

“Faces to the wall,” Harry agrees. He watches as Louis grabs a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, then
makes his way to his corner. Harry turns towards the painted white, concrete, cinderblocks,
another reminder of primary school. The room is quiet, just the two of them breathing, as Harry
slips out of his jeans and then his pants. The air is cold on his naked, wet flesh and he doesn’t dare
look down to see his body betraying him. Instead, he accidently peeks over his shoulder catching a
glimpse of Louis’ bare arse across the room. It’s so round and enticing, almost like a planet with its
own gravitational pull. Realizing he’s just broken their rules, he quickly looks back at the wall and
manages to pull on the soft PJ pants over his bare skin, while holding his wet jeans in his hand.
They’re warm and comforting. He clears his throat.

“Um, I’m gonna put my wet stuff in the bathroom. Is the coast clear?”

“Yeah, all good, but we both know you took a look and I honestly can’t blame you. This arse is a
thing of beauty.”

“How’d you know?! I mean… I’m… I’m sorry.” Harry stammers. “I didn’t mean to.”

“S’alright, love. I had a feeling is all,” Louis chuckles for just a moment.

Love. Harry knows it means nothing, but he can’t tell his heart not to flutter at the word.

“Of course, you did,” Harry mutters.

“If it makes you feel better, I looked too. Yours isn’t half bad either, for the record,” Louis smirks
teasingly.

Harry glances over his shoulder with a knowing grin, as he heads out of the room, jeans in one
hand and PJ shirt in the other, “Half bad? My ass is phenomenal and it sounds like now we both
know it.”

**

When Harry comes back to Louis’ room after locating Liam and his bag of wet things to toss his
jeans, socks and t-shirt in with the rest, Louis is on his bed knees up, video game controller in
hand, staring at a small flat screen on the desk opposite his bed. The rooms are tiny. There’s no
other way to describe them, so even though Louis’ TV looks smaller than anything Harry thought
they even made anymore, it’s a good size for the space.

“What cha playing?” he asks from the door frame, the sleeves on his cozy borrowed flannels
reaching to just below his wrists and the pants, even slung low, like he usually wears them, sit at
his ankles.

“Cute. I knew they’d look better on you than they ever would on me.” Louis reaches over himself
to grab another controller and tosses it at Harry, then pats the empty space beside him on the bed.
“Old school Mario Brothers. You can be Luigi, or Mario. I’m not fussed.” Louis pauses the game
and offers his controller up.

“This is good,” Harry waves his hand to indicate that he’s happy with Louis’ original choice. He’s
really not all that concerned with the game, to be honest. Louis turns back to the screen, as Harry
sits beside him. Their shoulders touch and Harry’s knee grazes the side of Louis’ bent leg. It’s all
very high school, but Harry kind of loves it. Not like the drunken mess of hands and mouths that
was the start of his relationship with Olly. And, there he goes getting ahead of himself again. Who
said anything about a relationship, who even said anything other than friends? Maybe Louis just
likes to appreciate a good bum, and that’s the extent of his interest.

Louis looks to Harry questioningly. His face is very close to Harry’s. He smells like minty
toothpaste.

“Sorry what?”

“I paused it. It’s your turn.”

“Oh, right.”

“You want a beer, or like a drink?”

“Beer, please.”

Louis comes back with two bottles of foggy looking IPA and a bag of Doritos, “Niall did the beer
run this week, so this weird stuff, it is.”

“Not an IPA guy?”

“Nah, I like to keep things simple. You’re not into the game?”

Harry looks to the screen where his character must have died because he’s back at the start of the
level and shrugs, “Not much brain power left today, I guess.”

“Niall says you like Rom Coms. Any faves?”

“How long do you have?”

“All night.”

Harry can’t help, but giggle at the comment.

“Hey, Harold, how old are you, anyway?”

“Why?” Harry huffs because he has a feeling he knows where this is going. His baby face and
penchant for laughter often make people think he’s younger than he is. Also, he's almost certain he
already told Louis his age, but it was during their little squabble at the staff bar, so he's definitely
not bringing that up. “Twenty… well… in a couple of months,” he admits before waiting on Louis’
answer.

“I couldn’t tell s’all. Sometimes you come off really mature… like really... and others you seem
younger. Neither is bad. I just wasn’t sure. I’m turning twenty-three soon, if you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” Harry mumbles, when in fact he definitely was, but he wants to pout.

Louis chuckles in response, but changes the subject, “So, movies. How about Titanic? I could use a
good cry. Been ages.”

Harry can’t believe him. The boy literally has no control over the words that leave his mouth.

“Honestly, Lou? Do you ever think before you speak?” He asks exasperatedly.

“Sorry! I swear. I try. Gawd! Shite just comes out wrong sometimes.” Louis puts his hands to his
chest in the prayer position begging forgiveness.

“It’s fine. Just put the movie on,” Harry sips from his beer, as Louis flicks the light off and jumps
back into his spot on the bed. Harry gulps. The darkness makes everything feel loaded—the air,
Harry’s limbs, his brain, Louis’ quiet breathing in tandem with his own. He wonders if Louis
notices, as he scrolls through the movie titles on his streaming service.

“I’m always too lazy to search,” Louis explains, the light from the TV making the shadows on his
face pop more than they normally do. His lashes look like they go on for miles.

“I should text Gemma. Let them know I’m gonna stay here,” Harry says attempting to lighten the
vibe in the room, but mentioning staying is making him anticipate more of the evening and his
muscles instantly tense, as he momentarily holds his breath.

Why does Louis seem so calm? Probably because he wants to watch a cheesy movie and is excited
to have found someone equally into that. Nothing more, or less. Just the innate pleasure in
discovering a like-minded romcom obsessed friend in a world of jaded action movie fanatics.

He types out a quick message to Gemma explaining that he’s sleeping over, so he doesn’t bring
lice back to the cabin. Her quick response of, ‘Sure. Sure. Keep telling yourself that’ doesn’t go
undetected by Louis, whose lips quirk as he looks over Harry's shoulder, his face so close Harry
would literally only have to lean in a smidge to kiss him.

Stop thinking about kissing him!

The intro music begins and Harry tries to calm his nerves, as he shuffles his position on the bed,
accidently resting a hand on Louis’ knee in the process.

“You alright, Harold?” Louis’ grinning at him again. His teeth gleaming in the blueish light from
the screen, while the corners of his mouth are raised ever so slightly and his eyebrows lift for a
moment in question. He looks positively impish and Harry wants to take his face in his hands and
kiss him, like really kiss him. And he thinks he might, he’s working up the courage and Louis
looks like he understands by the way his expression changes, his eyes locked on Harry’s, when a
vibrating at Harry’s leg, makes them both look down.

Harry picks up his phone, the black case making it hard to distinguish from Louis’ navy duvet
cover in the darkened room. He quickly answers, ready to tell Gemma just how annoying she’s
being, when a familiar voice rings out, loud and happy and most definitely drunk.

“Haaaazzzzzza? You answered?” Olly singsongs.

“Fuck,” Harry says quickly on a quiet breath, as he pulls the phone away and looks at Olly’s name
on the screen. He stares for a beat and the voice repeats, “Hazza, you there?”

Harry turns to Louis, eyes imploring and mouths the words, “What do I do?” as panic begins to
take hold of every fiber in his being.

Louis looks back at him, his eyes assessing Harry's face, as if gauging the situation.

"Please," Harry pleads holding the phone out to Louis. Their hands touch fleetingly, as Louis takes
it from him.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“Olly and you are?” Olly’s irate tone is intensified by what Harry can only guess, is a good amount
of alcohol.

“It’s Louis. Harry’s um… friend. He’s busy right now.”

The words are straightforward, but Harry senses an edge to them, like they’re almost protective,
even a tad angry? Louis barely knows Harry and he doesn’t know Olly at all, so Harry can’t fathom
the emotion he’s sensing. It’s probably just in his head. He bites his bottom lip, as he watches
Louis' features become hard.

“What’s he doing? I really need to speak with him.”

Louis grins like he has a few answers he’d like to respond with, but instead he simply says, “He
can’t come to the phone, mate. Was he expecting your call?”

“I don’t know. I mean he hasn’t called me back yet. Hey pass the tequila! Listen, I gotta go. Tell
him to call me, ok?” Olly’s voice hollers the last bits over what sounds like a thumping party,
before he disconnects without a goodbye.

“Sounds like a good guy, that.” Louis says, handing the phone back to Harry.

“He’s not. Well, he can be, but I mean overall, he’s not. And thank you. I wouldn’t have… I didn’t
mean to answer, I mean. I haven’t talked to him since we broke up.”

“Seems like he calls a lot though? Did you break his heart?”

“Do I look like the heartbreaking type? He on the other hand… I mean not that my heart was um…
Can we please just watch this movie, so I can cry over a fictional man for a change?”

“You got it, Harold.” And with the pat Louis places on Harry’s leg, Harry knows the energy in the
room has shifted. He sighs and settles in for three hours of drama, that at least doesn’t involve his
life.
 Chapter 5

“Wake up, Harold.”

Louis jabs Harry in the ribs with his elbow, as he whispers the words close to his ear. Although
Harry looks peaceful now, he’s been moaning and babbling all night. Louis doesn’t want to be that
weirdo watching their crush sleep and he also feels bad for the other boy’s never-ending
nightmares, if that’s what’s happening. He hasn’t been able to make much sense of most of what’s
come out of Harry’s mouth.

Their bodies should be touching in the tiny twin bed, but Louis presses himself up against the cold
cinder block wall behind him. Harry barely takes up any space on his own, curled up in a fetus
position, but since he’s hogging the sheets, the mound of bedding cocooning him, makes up the
difference.

Harry’s body twitches and his eyelids flutter as a slew of garbled words fill the air. They’re
followed by a loud happy moan, unlike the ones Louis has heard so far, and the hairs on his arm
prickle in response.

“Wet, spiky porcupine,” Harry mutters and then, moments later, roughly murmurs, “yes, please.”
And the way Harry’s voice catches huskily, makes Louis scared for the poor porcupine. Harry
might be into some kinkier stuff than Louis originally imagined, or at least his subconscious is.

“Suuuuun,” Louis tries a different tack.

Harry moans in response. The sound is small and warm, as he curls further into a ball, pulling most
of the large duvet into a human sized roll between his arms. He’s literal sunshine. Louis can’t help,
but stare. He’s gorgeous and it’s mesmerizing; his hair’s a fluffy mess, since they fell asleep when
it was still wet and his jaw is slightly clenched under his creamy pale skin, that contrasts against
the pink of his parted lips perfectly.

Like how is this boy even real?

Seeing Harry this vulnerable reminds Louis of the promise he made himself just hours before,
when Harry was so upset by Olly’s call. He vowed he wouldn’t do that to him, make him hurt, like
Olly clearly has. Nope, he’s not going to start something he can’t finish and mess with the boy’s
already fragile heart. That’s not right, even if he wants to cuddle him so bad it’s like torture not to.

Finally, it’s Louis intense gaze that seems to jostle Harry awake, much to Louis’ chagrin.

“Was I talking?” Harry asks in a sleep heavy voice.

“You could say that, something about a wet porcupine.”

Harry’s face flushes and he nuzzles it into his pillow, so all Louis can see are his wild curls in an
untamed halo around his head.

Louis is officially smitten, “What am I missing? What’s blush worthy about porcupines?”

Harry groans, “Nothing.”

“You just caught me staring at you like a full-on creeper. You gotta give it up.”
“Ughhhhhh, it was you, alright. The wet porcupine.” Harry concedes quickly, as he mashes his
pillow over his head completely.

“Sorry how?” Louis can’t help, but laugh.

“Last night, or tonight… I dunno what time it is, you looked like a porcupine after we washed your
hair.” The words are muffled, but Louis can make them out.

“Then what was all the moaning ab… ohhhhhh….” Louis can’t help, but smile.

From under his hiding place, Harry neither confirms nor denies Louis' realization.

And… am officially fucked. What was the plan? Oh yeah, not get involved with Harry, right, right.
Because that’s do-able, what with the glorious sex moans and all.

It’s quiet for a moment before Harry hesitantly lifts the pillow and peeks at Louis, “You still
there?”

“Where’m I gonna go? Actually, can I show you something?”

Harry pokes his head farther out in response.

“It’s outside. Bring the duvet, Li probably stole our jackets for the big lice wash.” Louis sneaks out
of bed quietly then pulls two sweatshirts from hangers in the closet and woolly socks from one of
the built-in drawers, “and throw these on, it’s gonna be cold.”

They both pull on their respective hoodies and socks, then Louis leads the way through the dark
hallway to the front door. Harry is about to slip into his boots before Louis loudly whispers,
“STOP! You gotta check for Tony Danza and Javier first. You don’t want to moosh them with that
big foot of yours.”

“Pardon?”

“Our pet mice.”

“Louis, pet mice don’t roam free. Are you telling me there are mice in this apartment?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs.

Harry literally jumps in the air, letting the duvet fall to the floor and does a weird little hoppy dance
to get the few steps to Louis, where he wraps his arms around the other boy’s shoulders and lifts
his legs at the knee. It’s all very 1950s, Doris Day vibes and it’s gross how much Louis likes it. He
wobbles a bit as he grabs under Harry’s legs to keep them up. They’re basically face to face in this
position and Louis wants to retch a little, it’s so cheesy, but he also wants to kiss Harry, and bad;
the second urge is beating out the first by a landslide. Harry’s plump lips are right there. Louis just
has to pull him in a little closer. It feels like forever since either have even let out a breath. Harry’s
green eyes are wide as they scan Louis’ face.

No. Nope. I am not kissing him this way. I will not have our first kiss all gross and doused in
patriarchal machismo because ewwww. And two, this literally can’t go anywhere. I swore I
wouldn’t and that was like, what, four hours ago. You can hold out longer than that Tomlinson.

“They’re just mice, Harry. You’ll be fine.” Louis sets Harry down, watching as the other boy’s
face falls disappointedly before he reluctantly stands on his tiptoes eyeing the floor around him.
Did it just look like Harry had wanted Louis to kiss him, or was that face purely rodent related?

Louis shakes out Harry’s boots and hands them over, then does the same to his own, while Harry
slips his on and hesitantly picks up the duvet and gives it a little fluff.

“There are no mice in the blanket.”

“I was just checking.”

**

When they finally get to the roof, which is what Louis had wanted to show Harry all along, he let’s
Harry push through the door first. This is one of Louis’ favourite spots at the resort. There’s a
barbeque and picnic tables and the absolute best view of the mountains, when it’s not the middle of
the night and pitch black out. Louis even strung twinkle lights overhead on various poles sticking
up from the roof itself. He doesn’t know what they’re for, but the string lights swoop from one to
the other in crisscross patterns perfectly. And what’s an outdoor space, what’s any space, really,
without twinkle lights. Louis quickly flips the switch on the panel beside the door, so Harry gets
the full effect. The snow’s even out for the reveal; large, fat flakes pillow through the air.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know. I love it up here. We can sit over there on that far picnic table.” Louis points, but he walks
the long way around to turn on the free-standing space heater near to where he’s indicated. Harry is
snuggled up in the duvet when Louis makes his way over.

“Let me in there. It’s freezing.” Louis dramatically makes his teeth chatter and Harry laughs so
hard he needs to clap his hand over his mouth to quiet it, then he extends his arm, so Louis can
squeeze in underneath. It’s warm snuggled in Harry’s armpit. An earthy smell, melds with the
sweat from their skin and the freshly laundered scent from their hoodies. Snowflakes land on their
faces and Louis tries to eat them. It’s absolutely adorable how Harry sees it and copies him. Louis
wraps his arm around Harry’s waist and cuddles closer.

This isn’t doing any harm. Just a couple of friends using each other’s body heat to keep warm. No
big deal at all.

“Tell me about yourself, Harold.” Louis says, to distract himself from his current train of thought.
“You’re almost twenty and not the steadiest on your feet, what else?”

“Excuse me? Who knocked into who in the shower?”

“That doesn’t count. I had to stand on my tiptoes just to get at that hair of yours.”

Harry lets it slide. “I work in a bookshop. It’s cozy and it smells good, but the pay is garbage and at
some point, I need, like a career, right?”

“You’re asking the slacker, snowboard instructor, who makes his students cry (or one of them
anyway), for professional advice?” He gives Harry a peek from his peripherals to make it clear he
is attempting to atone for the chair lift incident, as opposed to further inciting him by regurgitating
the whole thing again.

“What else you got? You’re the one who wants to chat.” Harry grins in a teasing challenge.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”

“Wow. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Best way to get to know someone is through what they find humiliating.”

“Everything. What’s that say about me?”

“Seriously though? Any bigguns?”

Harry swallows, “The sleep talking thing. That can be a bit of a pain. Like with Olly, I guess I
accidentally told him I loved him in my sleep. The weird thing is, I don’t think I did, love him, you
know. So, I don’t even know what that was about.” He crinkles his forehead and chews one corner
of his lower lip.

“What’s embarrassing about that? Seems sweet.”

“Not what he wanted to hear at that moment, is all.”

“No?” Louis knows he’s prying, but he wants the full story.

“Olly doesn’t like to be tied down. I know this because he was seeing slash sleeping with lots of
other people while we were together.” Harry’s looking at his boots sticking out of the bottom of
the blanket. Both he and Louis are curled together, legs up on the seat of the picnic bench, backs
against the table, bodies snug under Louis’ oversized duvet.

“Sounds like a right, prick, if you ask me. You’re sure you didn’t love him, though? I don’t want to
be slagging off your future husband or anything.”

Harry guffaws in response, “Nah, I don’t think so. Don’t think I’ve ever been properly in love.
You?”

“No’s a safe bet.”

“Wait! What’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you? I feel like we totally
skipped that.”

“I pissed my pants in my first year of primary school. They had to give me a replacement pair from
the lost and found. Who loses their pants? Like how? And I had to walk home with my wee-stained
pants in my hand. Took forever to live that one down.”

Harry cackles loudly. “You’re joking. It has to be something real. I told you the truth.”

“Harold, would I lie to you? Cross my heart, it happened.”

“I bet you were so cute! All sad and covered in wee.”

"Me sad? I owned it. I carried those wee pants with pride!"

Harry crows delightedly at this with a high noise in the back of his throat, while he wiggles his legs
with elation.

They spend the rest of the night chatting and squeezing as close as they can to keep warm,
although, to be fair, the heater is making their immediate surroundings fairly temperate. They
attempt to eat snowflakes again until Harry says he’s full, which Louis rolls his eyes at and then
they watch the sunrise. Harry finally getting to see the view Louis has been patiently waiting to
share with him.
When they eventually crawl back into bed, Harry squishes backwards, so Louis has no other
choice, but to cuddle into him, brown hairs fluttering in Louis' face with every exhale. The room is
quiet, as Louis finally feels himself relaxing enough to sleep. He assumes Harry has already nodded
off, until his pale long fingers reach back and wrap around Louis' wrist, tugging his arm forward
and resting it over his own waist. Harry traces light designs on the back of Louis' hand briefly, then
he settles. Instinctively, Louis leans in and lightly kisses the curls on the back of Harry’s head, as
he draws his body closer in the cuddle. It’s not until he’s drifting to sleep, that he realizes what he’s
done, but in the moment he’s too warm, fuzzy and tired to care.

**

“Li, I kissed him on the back of the head. What’s wrong with me?”

“Not a clue. I told you not to mess with him. I literally don’t see any good coming from this.”

“Liam, what’s your hold up? They’re both grown adults and clearly attracted to each other. Who
cares if they have a little fun?” Niall interjects.

“Kissing the back of his head is not fun, that’s like married couple shit. Imagine Louis when Harry
goes home, if he’s like this already. Whiny isn’t gonna cover how much whingeing we’re gonna
have to listen to.”

“Where’s Zayn? I need a tie breaker.”

“He’s at work, but he’ll be on my side and you know it. Just do some more dumb shit to make him
hate you. Shouldn’t be too hard. Or ignore him, or something. Seriously, better to ghost him now
when all you’ve done is kiss the back of his head.”

“Wow, Li. What a romantic!” Niall quips back sarcastically.

Liam shrugs, “I’m just thinking about everyone’s mental health here, mate.”

“I feel like you guys are the angel and devil on my shoulders, I just don’t know who’s who.
Honestly, I am worse off now than before I came out here,” Louis rubs the spot on his forehead
between his eyes.

“You just gotta do what feels right.” Niall pats his friend on the back.

Oh. Ok cause that helps.

Louis plods to his room for a think, but when he climbs in his bed, all he can smell is Harry. Earthy
goodness and apples fill his nostrils. He smooshes his face into the pillow, but of course this
doesn’t help. He inhales deeply, as if to overload his senses with recollections of Harry. Maybe
Liam is right. Ignoring Harry might just be his best bet.

So, for the rest of the day he doesn’t text, like he promised he would. He avoids any of the spots he
thinks he might be seen by the other boy, even goes out of his way to modify the dining room
schedule, so he works dish-pit, which he hates, for his dinner shift. The whole time all he wants to
do is open his phone and type ‘Hi’, or send a quick smiley, but deep down he knows he shouldn’t.

**

Niall’s not blind to what Louis’ been doing to Harry all day. Just the sour, sad look on his face,
makes it clear he’s following Liam’s crap advice. And Niall’s not having it. Doesn’t Louis realize
Liam skirted around his relationship with Zayn for months? The two boys were the closest,
distance wise, of all of them and had even met up before they all lugged themselves across the
pond, so to speak. Zayn had been down for a relationship the moment he laid eyes on Liam. Niall
knew because he had to hear Zayn moan about it for months. Liam on the, other hand, took his
time mulling over the whole thing.

Niall didn’t even feel bad when he arranged this evening lesson with Harry and especially doesn’t
now that he can see the boy’s pensive look, as he approaches.

“Hey, Niall. Is Louis sick or something? I haven’t heard from him today and he said he would
text.”

“Nah, he’s just busy. Don’t worry about him. You ready to do this?”

“I think so.”

“Ok we’re gonna do the lift, but it’ll be way less busy tonight. Most of the night skiers are on the
big hills. Just take it slow. If you fall, you fall. I can ask the operator to stop the lift at any time. I
won’t let you get hurt and there’s literally no reason to be embarrassed. Everyone starts where you
are, alright?”

Harry nods, “You’ll talk me through it?”

“Yes. I’ve got you.”

“That’s what Louis said.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m not Louis. We both have our skillsets and this is mine. Now give me a
hug. I am literally the best at hugs.”

Harry’s face brightens and he steps happily into Niall’s arms. Niall can feel the boy relax in his
embrace. He doesn’t squeeze harder, like Louis would. He just lets Harry be, head tucked beside
his, resting on his shoulder.

After a moment he whispers, “I really do hope that lice spray worked.”

Harry’s laughter shakes them both before they part with a quick smile, Niall giving Harry a hearty
pat on the arm before they head to the lift.

**

“Follow those people in through the ski poles and we’ll line up.” Niall watches as Harry holds his
breath in anticipation. “Just breathe, Harry. It’s gonna be good.” The long draught of air Harry
sucks into his lungs is audible, as well as the exhale that follows. “It works like a normal queue. I
know you get that, but just saying. You might get people riding with you, depending on the lift
size. This one for example is a four-seater, so if anyone scoots up beside us, they will ride with us.
Sometimes they hang back, if they want to ride alone. The operator won’t always let that slide. Just
depends.” Niall drones on mainly to distract Harry and he thinks it might be working, as his green
eyes are fixed on Niall’s face, as if they are actually eating the information coming from his lips.
The boy is good at eye contact, that’s for sure. Niall’s not attracted to men, but even he can see
how appealing it is to be the center of this kid’s world, all from Harry’s current gaze alone.

“When we get to the front, we wait right at the entrance there and then as soon as the lift gets to
that yellow bar, we can go. Then stop at the red line and wait. When you feel the chair hit the back
of your legs, you sit.”
Harry bites the corner of his lower lip. He’s visibly shaking and Niall has no idea how Lou missed
this the first go-round. Harry couldn’t have been any less anxious then. Niall watches him the
whole time, giving encouraging pats on the back, and chatting away just enough to lighten the
mood, but not enough to completely distract Harry from the task at hand. They get on the lift no
problem and Harry’s accompanying sigh makes Niall grin. The slow ride up the hill is easy. Niall
takes the time to truly babble away at Harry, soaking in all of the boy’s attention. He’s mid-story,
Harry laughing with both dimples exposed, when he sees the off ramp looming up ahead.

“Lifting the bar soon,” he stops his previous sentence to announce and Harry’s eyes quickly dart to
where Niall is looking. Niall holds up his board with his foot like Louis had. “Push your back foot
against the binding and push-up with your knees bent a bit. Stay that way, then turn just a smidge
down the slope.”

Time seems to speed up and slow down all at once, as Niall continues to watch every move Harry
makes. He lets the other boy disembark first, then follows him, astonished when Harry manages to
actually make it off the lift and subsequent ride to the left, as Niall directed.

Harry’s smile is huge, beaming on his face, two dimples creating giant craters in his cheeks, as
Niall explodes with enthusiasm, “Harry!!!! That was amazing! You did it!”

Everyone on the hill looks in their direction, while Niall takes his arms and bear hugs Harry around
his middle. Harry laughs and they fall over in a pile on the snow.

“That felt so good!”

“It should. You did awesome. Your stance is way better than I remember.”

The words seem almost tied directly to Harry’s smile, as his whole face dampens when Niall
speaks them. Dimples gone. Lips in a straight line.

“That’s what Louis showed me.”

“He did a good job.”

“Hey Niall? You know how you said Louis is busy? Is that like normal for him? I don’t wanna be
weird, or like a stage-five clinger, or anything, but I thought we had fun last night and it just seems
odd he didn’t follow through when he said he would text. Like even just a hi would have
sufficed...”

Niall doesn’t respond right away, gathering his thoughts and Harry continues, "I’m being weird,
aren’t I?”

“Not at all. Listen, I’m sure it’s just been a crazy day. Meet us at the staff bar tonight. I’ll text the
boys. Say 11pm. They should be done by then.”

Harry agrees a little reluctantly at first, but Niall teases him until he seems more at ease.

“Ok let’s get a few runs in, shall we? I wanna see what else our boy has taught you.”

**

Cigarette ash lands dark against the still-white, freshly fallen snow, as Liam pushes the steel door
from the kitchen open. The sound alerts Louis to his presence and he debates hiding his smoke, but
takes a drag instead.
“Lou, I thought you quit. What the hell?”

“Blah.”

“Blah? Blah’s not an answer.”

“Also, Zayn is going crazy in there tonight. He can’t handle all the extra tables with you on dish.”

“You’re the one who told me to avoid Harry, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“I meant avoid putting your lips on him, not avoid him altogether. It shouldn’t be this hard. You
literally just met.”

“I know!” Louis groans and rests his head in his hand. The other holding his cigarette off to the
side, so Liam can sit next to him. “I don’t get it either. I mean, yeah, he’s pretty there’s no
disputing it, but I could sadly make myself get over that. He’s just so interesting. Like his facial
expressions and how he laughs at the most random things and the eye contact! It’s like being
trapped in some alternate universe when he sets those green, soul devouring, puppies on you. I
just…”

The air seems heavy, as Louis stops and looks at his smoke then takes a drag and crushes it with
his foot.

“You just what?” Liam prods.

“It’s so embarrassing.”

Liam shoves his friend with an arm to his shoulder and Louis smiles slightly making eye contact
with him for the first time, since he joined him. “That’s not even an excuse. You know we’re better
mates than that. I will never judge anything you say… to your face at least,” he musses Louis’ hair.

“You asked for it,” Louis looks to the ground biting his lip and picking at his cuticle. “I just have
this overwhelming urge to make him happy. Like I want him to be wearing those huge dimples
every second of every day.”

“Oh shite! You’re in deeper than I thought, Shakespeare. Sounds like you’re gonna be writing
poems, or songs about him next.”

“You’re telling me. I’m never this cheesy. Is this what it’s like with Zayn?”

“Not quite, but me and Zayn are different. We’ve chatted online for a long time. We were friends
first, you know.”

Louis nods. He gets it, he thinks.

Liam pats his friend’s knee, “Let’s get back in there before Zayn loses it. I don’t want to sleep
alone tonight. We can drink away your sorrows after work. Niall wants to do the staff bar. He sent
a text a little while ago.”

“Fine,” Louis agrees and drags himself off the overturned milk crate he’s been perched on. “But
you’re buying and I am gonna need a lot of beer to drink Harry outta my head.”

“Done and done.” Liam claps Louis on the back with his open palm. “I flirted my arse off with this
woman tonight and she gave me a huge tip, so we’re set.”

“Gawd, Li. You’re so gross.”

“Of course, I am. I learned from the master.” He plants a friendly kiss on the side of Louis’ head.
“Now buck up, there are dishes to do!”

**

Still no text.

It has to be the hundredth time Harry has checked his phone (and that’s a low estimate). He
literally never gets like this. Yes, he falls hard and quick, but not like this. He can feel how gross
he’s being, waiting for Louis’ name to pop up in his notifications and becoming more dejected
with every passing moment.

It started that morning, after leaving Louis’ place. He, Anne and Gemma had gone for a quick bite
and to stroll around the village. Anne was oblivious to Harry’s quiet mood, as she had run into
some of the bird watching ladies and made plans to have drinks with them that evening; her
excitement was overshadowing everything else in the moment. Gemma on the, other hand, could
tell something was up and had monitored Harry watchfully, but silently, most of the day. When it
was after lunch and Harry still hadn’t heard anything, he debated sending a text himself, but
decided against it. He didn’t want to look desperate. He wasn’t desperate. He knew that. A little
irritated, maybe, and disappointed, but he wasn’t desperate.

Everywhere they went he kept an eye open for Louis, but somehow didn’t bump into him at all.
How was this possible when Harry felt like he was randomly running into Louis where ever he
went previously? His lesson with Niall eased his mind a little, but now, back at the cabin, resting
his snowboard on the mat by the closet, he’s less confident. He can hear Anne and Gemma upstairs
and takes the steps two by two in an attempt to out run the nagging thoughts that are about to eat
away at him.

“Hey!” Gemma smiles seeing him in their mother’s doorway. “I’m helping mum get ready for her
girl’s night.”

“Wanna help me too. You and I are going out this evening.”

“Yay!” Gemma claps her hands playfully, her dry wit, like usual, just as evident as her sweet
natured temperament in everything she says and does. “Fashion show!”

“Kids, should I be concerned? You’re not going to drink too much, or engage in any untoward
behaviour are you?” Anne’s voice carries from behind the washroom door. She emerges a moment
later in a simple sheer black blouse paired with a tank and blue jeans.

“Never!” Harry and Gemma respond in unison. A well practiced routine from their years of
growing up together. The three laugh at the ridiculousness of the moment, what with Gemma and
Harry being adults, and all.

After quickly recovering from the momentary giggles, Gemma gives her mother an anxious look,
“Ok, don’t hate me. That’s cute and all, but I think Harry needs that top more than you do tonight.”

“Do you, Harry?” Anne asks looking toward her son quizzically.

Harry doesn’t have an answer and glances at Gemma confused.

“I have a feeling Harry’s new friend did, or didn’t do something that upset Harry. If we’re going
out tonight, he needs to look and feel his best. Am I right?” She directs the question to Harry.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“You’ve been moping all day.”

Anne sets her gaze on Harry. She has that same ability to lock eyes and really be there when talking
to people, “Listen, I want to give ‘that’ Louis the benefit of the doubt, he really does seem like a
good kid, but if he hurt you.” Her face gets hard. “You know I’m not putting up with that.”

“No, mum. He hasn’t and like how do you guys even know… I mean, I don’t even know that I like
him.”

“Oh gawd, the googly eyes he was making at you when you fell asleep in the lice living room,
nearly made me lose my Pad Thai.”

“I would have put it more delicately, but your sister is right. It is fairly obvious that you’re both…
interested in each other.”

“I’m glad you guys think so. I was pretty sure he hated me up to last night and now today, I dunno.
He’s hard to read.”

Anne steps around the bed resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Just be careful. I don’t want you
hurt again. He’s not worth it, if he doesn’t appreciate how absolutely amazing you are.”

“Muuuum! You’re making Harry all misty. All we need is him getting weepy in his beer.”

“Right, right. Gem, pick me another shirt, please.”

When all is sorted, Anne is wearing a sparkly tank and a blazer with her jeans, while Harry has the
sheer black shirt on, buttoned as minimally as possible, and paired with his skinny black jeans and
a simple brown Chelsea boot. He’s tied a polka dot scarf through his hair to add a little pizzazz to
his final look.

Gemma steps a distance away from them and smiles proudly, “And my work here is done.”
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

Hi there - one quick warning, there is a forced kiss in this chapter in case that's a
trigger for anyone. Nothing too dramatic, but calling out just in case :)

Louis doesn’t feel bad leaving a frazzled Zayn behind tidying the dining room, since Liam, his
own boyfriend, took off as well, the second he got the chance. That’s what Louis tells himself
anyway, as he guzzles his third beer, tucked away with Liam and Niall in their favourite booth at
the back of the bar.

Every time the door opens, a draft running through the room, Louis looks up to see if it’s his friend
and when it finally is, he feels a pang of guilt, right in his beer-soaked stomach.

Zayn is clearly wiped as he walks in with Ed, the two of them hanging their coats on pegs attached
to a horizontal wooden beam that runs the length of the front wall. Louis instantly wants to
apologize for being so selfish, but the thought is quickly replaced with others, when the door
swings open again and Harry and Gemma stroll in.

“Which one of you lot invited Harry?” Louis gives Niall a scrutinizing glare.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s for your own good. You’re being a twat.”

Louis rolls his eyes and looks back to the door where Harry is causally chatting with Zayn while
unbuttoning his jacket. And then it happens, as if a set of photoshoot fans and an 80s big hair band
have been set-up to accompany Harry’s coat removal. Maybe Louis has seen one too many
romcoms, but he swears the world just switched its setting to slow motion. Non-existent guitars
blare in his ears, while he stares at Harry in his skin tight black jeans and see-through shirt, which
he really doesn’t even need to be wearing, since it’s barely buttoned. He can see the other boy’s
petite, but erect nipples, likely from the cold, their pinkish brown colour tantalizing, and the tattoos
running the length of his arm and gracing his chest, stomach and lower belly. The last, drawing
Louis’ eyes down in lurid expectation. Harry’s jeans are so low-rise that Louis can read the brand
name on the top of his black boxer briefs—Calvin Klein. After, what he’s sure is too long of a look
at the block letters on the bit of elastic showing, Louis’ eyes finally roll up Harry’s body to his
face, where he’s met with a fairly intense stare that makes him shift in his seat and send a darting
glance to his crotch.

Behave yourself down there!

The confident stride of the other boy, as he makes his way to the table is overwhelming. Where did
this Harry come from? Two days previous, he looked like a big-eyed baby deer in his giant
snowsuit and goggles and now here he is, more like something that would eat a baby deer for
dinner.

“Well shit! Harry brought out the big guns tonight!” Niall says with awe and amusement colouring
his tone.

“Apparently,” Louis responds grimly, “And I thank you for that, Niall.”
“Harry! Looking good. A touch… um… nippily out for that ensemble, wouldn’t you say?” Niall
chides jokingly, as Harry and Gemma approach the booth. “And, lovely as always, Gemma.”

Harry’s face lights up and his shoulders pull back even farther, as he responds, “Thanks, Niall.”

His glance turns to Louis, expression transforming from a proud boyish beam to a breezy, big eyed,
straight-face, as he simply says, “Hi Louis.”

Unable to accurately respond to this new, intimidatingly, alluring version of Harry because he now,
more than ever, needs to keep his distance, Louis just nods.

“What am I chopped liver?”

“Hi, Liam. You well?”

“Moderately so. Could use another drink, though.”

Niall gives Liam an incredulous look that Louis picks up on. Even though he’s possibly the most
easy-going man on the planet, Niall does wear every feeling he has on his face and currently it’s
obvious he’s unimpressed with Liam’s behaviour.

“I can help with that,” Harry answers smoothly. “Be right back.”

Gemma scoots in the booth beside Niall. Louis can’t actually face her right now. It’s bad enough
being a dick to Harry, but his sister seems sweet. She’s clearly got a protective side, just like Louis
does for his siblings and loved ones. He’s actually not sure what intimidates him more, the idea of
her telling him off, or her being nice to him when she shouldn’t be. Gemma’s brown eyes are
assessing him when he looks up, but she’s got a close-lipped smile on her face. It’s a little quirky.
There’s something about the way she bends the edges of her mouth that seems to hold all the
awkwardness they both feel at the situation.

Harry's at the table again with a tray of shots and beers quicker than Louis thinks is possible, like
some kind of drink bearing, magical, sex god.

“How’d you get those?” Niall asks with wide eyed astonishment.

“I asked,” Harry shrugs the best he can while setting drinks on the table.

“Not shocking. Liz looks like she’s about to pass out over there.” Louis mutters.

“Sorry, Louis. What was that?” Harry asks sliding beside him into the booth, while reaching over
his own head to set the tray on a shelf behind them. Louis watches his muscles flex as he extends
his arm, exposing even more of his naked chest. “Might as well keep this close. Feels like a shots
kind of night,” Harry continues, as he grins at Louis.

Louis can barely muster a smile.

“So, you were saying, Lou?” Harry’s confidence seems to be growing by the moment, as he settles
into his seat, casually adjusting the bottom of his blouse. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever heard the
other boy use his nickname before and he’s not impressed that its utterance has as much of an
impact on his body as it does. A warmth grows in his belly while it feels as if a party of rampant
hyenas have taken over his chest. His eyes dart around the table to see the others in conversation,
Zayn telling off Liam and Niall introducing Ed to Gemma. He takes the moment to quickly say, “I
was merely commenting that she’s probably overwhelmed by your current attire.”
“Overwhelmed, how so?” Harry’s grin is making Louis much angrier than it should.

“Well, it’s just a tad excessive.”

“I personally think it’s just the right amount of excess, really. And, I have a feeling the ten, no
make it eleven sets of eyes checking me out right now, would agree.”

Louis peeks around Harry and actually finds himself counting out the other bar patrons and staff
hungrily glancing in Harry’s direction. He gives up at seven.

“Whatever. You know what I mean.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Also, how can you tell who’s checking
you out. You’re not even facing that way.”

“No, but I did just walk back over here. I assumed they were all still looking.”

“That sounds a bit vain.”

“Well, if anyone knows what vain sounds like, it’d be you,” Harry chuckles, then calls out,
“shots?” to get everyone’s attention. Louis doesn’t have the opportunity to respond, with all eyes
now in their direction, as Harry doles out drinks to the group.

“What is it?” Gem sniffs at her glass.

“They’re G-spots.” Harry announces to everyone, dimples huge. Louis splutters on his beer,
spraying it accidentally from pursed lips.

“Subtle,” he says wiping the droplets from the table with a napkin. Gemma comments at the same
time, so his voice seems to go unheard, “What’s in them?”

“Jager, melon liqueur and triple sec.”

“Liz had all that behind the bar? Have they been holding out on us?” Niall pipes in.

“Bottoms up on three,” Harry calls, raising his glass in the air.

Louis only has time to roll his eyes again, before he’s saluting his glass and tilting his head back
with the six others crammed in around him; the obligatory pulled faces and groans ensue amongst
them.

“These are dangerous,” Niall says peering into his empty shot glass.

“Good dangerous?” Harry’s eyes lock on Niall the way they tend to and the stab of jealousy that
pings through Louis’ chest is too much. He groans audibly without meaning to. Unfortunately, it’s
an inopportune time, based on Niall’s previous comment being fairly boisterous and already having
drawn the attention of the table. Six pairs of eyes focus on Louis.

“Got something to say, Lou?” Niall almost challenges.

What has gotten into everyone today?

“Oh, erm… nothing…” He looks to Zayn for help. Zayn’s his bud. He’ll come through and divert
the attention elsewhere.

But apparently Zayn is still salty because he gives Louis a menacing look and says, “Hey, so I had
the worst shift tonight and need to forget it. Anyone played that game ‘Never Have I Ever’? The
one they always play on those interview chat shows.”
Just what Louis needs, to know all the debauchery Harry has, or has not gotten up to in his life.

“I love that game,” Liam chimes in, clearly sucking up to Zayn in anyway he can. Zayn shoots him
an irritated side eyed glance, but says, “perfect, so we’ll use our coasters. Write ‘HAVE’ on one
side and ‘HAVE NOT’ on the other. Then someone asks a question and we all answer. I think the
person asking generally has not done the thing, but if you want to get drunk, go ahead and pick
something you have done. It’s all in the name of fun, right?” His brown eyes feel almost black as
they burn a hole through Louis.

Geeze you’d think I woke him up early on a non-workday, or something.

Zayn’s love of sleep had earned more than one grumpy pillow toss, or low oath thrown in Louis’
direction, in the past, but that pales in comparison to the look he's receiving right now.

“Who wants to go first?” Liam chirps.

“I’m gonna grab more shots,” Louis mentally pats himself on the back for finding an excuse to
leave the table and looks at Harry to vacate his seat, so he can get by. Of course, because nothing
seems to be going his way, Liz is on the other side of Harry, straining her body across his, to reach
the tray he’d set behind their heads. “More shots, boys?” She asks raspy in Harry’s face.

“Yes please,” Harry says cheerily and Louis has never wanted to shoot daggers with his eyes so
bad, as he currently wants to at Liz. She’s virtually rubbing her breasts all over Harry, or doing her
best to. Harry is somehow the king of seeming cool and nice while also being respectful. Instead of
giving her a horrified look, like Louis would, he manages to lean away from her body in a way that
feels completely natural, his hands purposefully placed palms down on the curving leather seat of
the booth beneath him.

Louis takes a long glug from his beer.

“I’ll go,” he says an idea popping into his brain. Liz is still lingering by the table and he’s hoping
Harry will answer in a favourable way, “Have you ever snogged a woman?"

Louis, Zayn and Niall flip their coasters to ‘HAVE NOT’ while the rest of the table flips to
‘HAVE’. Uproarious laughter follows for several reasons and everyone is talking over each other.
First and foremost, the whole table is confused by Niall’s response. Apparently, he’s more drunk
than anyone realized because he glances at his coaster and smiles, “There’s a slight chonce I don’t
get the rules.”

Again, laughter ensues. Then Harry looks to Gemma’s ‘HAVE’ and with a touch of teasing
questioning he says, “Gemmmmm?” She looks to his ‘HAVE’ in return with a smirk and says,
“Hairrreeeh?”

Louis and Zayn shrug at each other and do a quick air high five across the table. Louis is happy to
see Liz has gone back to the bar. That had backfired on him, hadn’t it? He fully expected Harry’s
coaster to read the same as his own, for some reason.

“Nialler, you tit, you ask a question this time. Somefing you haven’t done, lad. You’re off yur face
already.”

Niall smiles huge and proud, “Who has checked out Harry in that smoking hot outfit?” He flips his
card to ‘HAVE’ and takes a huge sip of his drink.

“Niall,” Louis rolls his eyes exasperatedly trying to avoid the question. “You’re still not playing
right.”
“Oh yes I am. Harry’s looking damn good tonight.”

“Awwwww, thanks, Niall.” Harry smiles.

“Ok, I can officially say have not.” Gemma flips her coaster with a shiver. “And gross, thank you
very much!”

The rest of the table starts turning over coasters and every one of them, aside for Liam, but
including Ed, who is straight, are showcasing “HAVE” as their answer. Louis is the only one left
who hasn’t touched his coaster. It still reads ‘HAVE NOT’.

“Well, that’s a load of bollix, if I’ve ever seen it.” Niall flips Louis’ coaster to the other side.

“Fine. Whatever.” Louis feels like he’s rolled his eyes more times this evening than he has in
years. He takes a sip of his beer, so Niall won’t call him out further.

Harry smiles that huge, toothy, dimpled smile of his and Louis is almost breathless. Cute Harry and
sex god Harry have somehow merged into one being and it is the most beautiful thing he has ever
seen. He wouldn’t be surprised, if his own heart was currently made of butterflies, kittens and
sugar because that’s how sweet it feels thumping away in his body.

What has this boy done to him?!

A slew of other questions fly around the table, coasters flipping and shots being tipped happily
back, until everyone is significantly inebriated. Ed and Zayn have been regaling horror stories from
their evening.

“It was one for the books,” Zayn says loudly, beer sloshing. “Definitely having work dreams about
tonight for years to come.”

Gemma’s quietly sipping at her beer watching the others. Apparently, she’s a quiet drunk. Louis
thinks it’s darling, if there ever was a use for the word. Niall and Liam are squabbling about
something and Louis isn’t certain, but he has a feeling Harry is staring at him intently.

“Who hasn’t asked a question yet?” Niall pipes up, cutting off Liam mid-sentence.

“Hairrrrreeeeh hasn’t,” Zayn calls smiling at Harry and mimicking Gemma’s earlier elongated
version of his name.

“Um what, sorry?” Harry says and Louis turns to look at him, as he turns towards Zayn.

“It’s your go. Ask a question.”

“Oh um,” Harry is slow and deliberate, as he ponders what to say. It looks as if he’s about to speak
when Liam jumps in with, “Let’s play something else…. Like spin the bottle!”

“Spin the bottle! Whose side are you on?” Louis questions loudly. He meant merely to think the
words, not say them.

Harry looks directly at Louis and quietly asks, “There are sides?”

“Never mind him, Harold. He’s drunk. Spin the bottle it is.” Niall says happily.

“Are cheek kisses cool? Because I might be seeing someone at school, not that any of us want to
hardcore snog, or anything.”
“Cheek kisses for Gemma. Change approved.” Niall says in a silly robot voice.

“You’re seeing someone?” Harry’s tone the same quiet as moments before.

“I mean, maybe. I dunno.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“It’s honestly nothing. I just didn’t want to mention it with… you know.”

“I know what?”

“Let’s talk about it later.”

“No Gem,” Harry pushes. “Let’s talk about it now. Why didn’t you tell me?” The rest of the table
is quietly eavesdropping.

“Because you looked like a sad puppy about Olly. I didn’t want to rub it in,” she mumbles
reluctantly.

“Oh, fuck, Olly. Seriously, I’m sick of it. We barely dated. It was a lot of half-decent sex and that’s
it. So, can we stop discussing him because I am beyond tired of hearing his name.”

“Sure, Harry. Sorry.” Gemma looks down at the table hurt. Louis gets the sense that it takes a lot
for Harry to have an outburst like this, even if it’s mild in comparison to Louis’ somewhat frequent
tantrums.

“No, God. I’m sorry. Bad day s’all. That wasn’t fair of me. He just keeps calling and I’m, like,
over him. Over it. Ready to move on, you know?”

Gemma gives him the same bendy corner lipped smile she gave Louis earlier. “Ok forgiven. Now
somebody kiss already, for Pete’s sake.”

Laughter fills the table at her non-curse curse.

“Gemma, you are quite foul tongued!” Niall teases spilly talking his beer.

“Ok, another rule. I’m not kissing Niall because look how drooly he is. He got more beer on the
table than in his mouth.”

“Disapproved. Disapproved.” Niall shouts joking, while pretending to use his fist as a gavel,
“Harry, you go since it was your turn in the last game. Spin a shot glass. It’ll be our bottle.”

Harry’s slender fingers select an empty shot glass from the table and, pushing anything in the
centre of the surface out of the way, he sets it down, waits a moment and gives it a spin. It jumps
hectically, then bops around the table, before settling and spinning smoothly. Everyone watches, as
it rotates around in circles.

Louis holds his breath. Finally, it’s comes to a stunning halt with the big end facing Niall and the
smaller end facing an empty space.

“We didn’t choose which is the pointy side, but Niall it is. So big end. You ready for this?” Harry
rubs his palms on his pants. “We can cheek kiss if you want.”

But Niall is all smiles. “Hell no! You look fab. I’m not giving up my chance at a little lip action
tonight!”
Harry guffaws loudly and reaches his body over Louis’, resting his hand on Louis’ knee, to get to
Niall across the table. The pair make a big show of smooshing their lips together. Then when they
separate, Harry plants a cute little kiss on the side of Niall’s head.

“Thanks, Niall. I needed that.” Harry blushes.

“Niall, it’s your go now.” Liam hollers drunkenly, hand resting on Zayn’s shoulder in a way Zayn
doesn’t look overly pleased with.

Niall spins the shot glass and it lands on Ed. After a laugh-filled attempt at a quick kiss, the pair
plop back in their seats. Ed lands on Gemma, giving her a simple peck on the head, which she
happily thanks him for. Her spin ends with Liam and she plants her pouty lips on the back of his
hand. He pulls an awkward face in response. Louis wonders if there’s a full moon because
everyone seems to be slightly off from their usual lovely personalities. Liam’s treatment of Gemma
another odd example of the difference. Louis can’t understand anyone not instantly falling
(platonically in his case) in love with Gemma.

Liam’s spin lands on Louis.

“Alright, Li. Let’s get this over with,” he says, leaning in for a quick peck on the lips, but for some
reason, as their lips meet, Liam comes in guns-a-blazing with a large, firm hand on Louis’ jaw line,
feverishly slipping his tongue into Louis’ mouth.

“Jesus, Li!” Louis pulls back immediately, eyes darting to Zayn. “It’s called Spin the Bottle, not
French your Friend. What the hell are you thinking?”

“Yes, I’d like to know as well,” Zayn says giving Liam a stare so heated, Louis is surprised the
whole bar doesn’t burst into angry flames.

Harry turns to Louis with concern written all over his face, “Are you alright?” He doesn’t seem to
care who is paying attention to them, or not.

“Yeah, whatever. It’s just a kiss,” Louis says dismissively, his words brusque and displaying his
current irritation.

“Fine whatever, Louis.” Harry sighs, as he grabs his beer and walks away from the table.

Louis’ eyes follow his back, as he departs and eventually pulls up at stool at the bar.

FUCK! He hadn’t meant to sound so clipped responding to Harry, but it’s been such a weird day
and everything feels like it’s just too much.

“Jesus, Lou. What’d you do now?” Niall pulls Louis’ attention back to the table, as he gestures
towards Harry.

“Nothing.” Louis grumbles into his beer, terse words sounding from Zayn and Liam’s side of the
table. Louis’ distracted brain can’t take this much stimuli. His eyes dart to his friends bickering
across the table, while also monitoring Gemma in his peripherals. She keeps glancing at Harry at
the bar, like she’s not sure what to do. When he looks back to where Harry’s sitting, he can see
why. Steve has sidled up to the other boy and they’re chatting away. Harry looks deeply engaged
in the conversation. The way he’s able to do that, always look, so focused on the present moment,
the person in front of him, is impressive to Louis. That’s something he could never even hope to
do. Being the inattentive mess that he is, it’s hard for Louis to concentrate on anything for more
than a minute at a time. Anything other than Harry, that is, if he were to give it real thought. He’s
had no problems focusing in on him, since the moment he arrived.
In this instance, Harry’s interest in the conversation can’t be that difficult to hold. Louis remembers
seeing him pressed up against the spa door, clearly embarrassed by the fact that he’d gotten at least
a partial stiffy due to a certain overly attractive massage therapist. The same one currently laughing
and touching Harry’s elbow. There’s no reason to be jealous. Louis’ almost certain Steve has a
girlfriend, like ninety-seven percent sure, anyway. That three percent, though, feels bigger and
bigger the longer he watches the pair converse.

“Why don’t you talk to him, if you like him? I get the sense that you do.” Gemma is leaning closer
to Louis to quietly ask.

Niall and Ed are trying to cool down Liam and Zayn. Ed, Liam and Zayn having vacated the
booth, while Niall leans over the back of it, so the upper half of his body is in arms reach of where
the others are standing. The argument seems to pick-up and settle in a bit of a pattern, Liam
apologizing repeatedly and Zayn doing his best to ignore him until he can’t anymore. Louis can
hear Ed trying to get Zayn to leave the bar, while Liam begs him to stay. He lets his brain take this
in for a moment, before he looks back to Gemma, who has scooted over a bit to give Niall the
room he needs to help arbitrate the situation.

“I could,” he finally responds. He knows it’s cryptic, but he really doesn’t feel like getting into it.
He looks back to his friends and everything seems fairly calm, even though the air is tense as the
discourse continues. He wants to jump up and help, but being the kiss-ee in the offending snog, he
feels like his presence may not be wanted.

“So, you go to school in Scotland? How’s that?”

“I love it!”

“You don’t go to school, I guess? I mean if you’re working here all winter. Or do you take classes
as well.”

“No. School’s not really my thing.”

“I get that. It’s definitely not for everyone.”

“What about Harry? It’s not for him?”

“I don’t think he knows yet, but I mean you could ask him.” She grins at Louis using extra
emphasis on the word he’d so simply given as a response to her initial question.

“What about the guy you’re seeing? How does that work, like later?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when you’re not in Scotland anymore.”

Gemma ponders this and Louis’ worries he’s said too much.

“It’s pretty new.” She bites her lip like Harry does, “sooooo…. we haven’t discussed it yet. We’re
just having fun right now, but neither of us is tied to a specific place…..” Her brown eyes look up
searchingly at Louis.

“Did either of you get out of a relationship recently that might make that whole situation worse?”

“No? Why would you ask?” Gemma’s brow crinkles in confusion.

Louis swallows at the tightness suddenly apparent in his throat, while his stomach flips, as he
debates saying the words that feel like they are bouncing around the inside of his mouth.

“I don’t want to be anybody’s rebound…”

There’s a held silence between them, as Gemma’s eyes pop in realization.

“And...” Louis is about to continue when the squabble Liam and Zayn are having becomes a full-
on row.

“Lou, mate. Can you just help us out for a sec?” Ed shouts over the pair.

“Right. Right. Gemma sit tight. I’ll be back.” He lightly touches Gemma on the shoulder. He can’t
imagine what she must think of him and his friends. Niall follows Louis out of the booth and over
to the noisy altercation, that is now drawing some attention.

“Zayn,” Louis says not wanting to go near Liam and fuel any further drama. “Can I take you
home? We can hash this all out there. You know I’m really sorry, right? We’re just friends. Stupid
mistake.”

“I know it, but does Liam?” Louis expects to see hatred is Zayn’s big, dark eyes, but all that
confronts him is a sad vulnerability that immediately pulls at Louis’ heart.

“Gem,” Louis calls, “I’m walking Zayn home. You wanna stay, or come?” Liam’s whining from
behind Louis feels like nails on a chalkboard, as Ed and Niall try to talk him into leaving separately
from Zayn.

Louis can hear Ed saying, “You just need twenty minutes to cool off, mate.”

Gemma holds up a finger, grabs her purse and runs to interrupt Harry at the bar. Harry’s face is
adorable when he’s alerted of the shitshow that’s been going on without his knowledge. His eyes
open with concern, lips in a little frown. Louis watches as he turns and says something to Steve,
then follows Gemma back across the room. He makes eye contact with Louis for a moment. It feels
important, somehow.

How on earth does he do that? Like say things without even saying anything.

But Louis’ attention is ripped away once again with Liam shouting now, loud enough for people
outside the bar to hear him, “why can’t I go with Lou. At least he has smokes we can share.”

Louis knows his expression is instantly guilt ridden.

How could this night get any worse!

Niall and Zayn look at Louis the exact way he expects them to. Like they’re beyond disappointed.
He promised them all that he quit. Liam was the only one who knew that wasn’t completely the
truth.

“Liam you can’t go with him because you tried to snog his face off, without his consent I might
add. You’re lucky he, or Harry didn’t punch you in the face.” Zayn is sneering at his boyfriend,
gaze fixed, stance hard.

“Zayn, baby. Come on. It wasn’t like that. It was a stupid drunken mistake. And what’s Harry got
to do with any of this. I don’t even know why he’s here tonight.”
“Honestly, Liam. You need to sort your shit out. I don’t know what’s gotten into you this week, but
I have an idea and it sucks. It just really fucking sucks.” Zayn’s eyes are getting watery and Louis
doesn’t know what to do.

Ed, Niall and Liam are speechless.

Louis feels like he’s going to burst. The beer in his brain making the whole mess even harder to
solve, but suddenly Harry’s stepping around him, eyes focused on only one person—Zayn. When
he reaches him, he slips his fingers through Zayn’s slowly and gently, leading him to where their
coats are hanging, a few feet away. Louis expects shouts, or anger from Liam, but everything feels
still, as he and Gemma follow behind grabbing their coats and stepping out into chilly night. Puffs
of smoke can be seen on their exhales, as the four of them, sort their winter gear.

“Where to?” Harry asks quietly.

Everyone looks to Louis.

“We can go home?”

“Nah, Li will just end up there. I don’t wanna talk this out until we’re sober.” Zayn wipes under his
eyes with his fingers.

Louis thinks for a minute. He’s not sure how drunk he is, but he’s impressed to pull a good idea
from the recesses of his brain. “I’ve got somewhere. Do you guys trust me?” He can feel his grin
take over his whole face, as he looks from Gemma to Harry to Zayn.

Gemma nods with a full-fledged smile, no bends to it edges.

Zayn simply says, “always.”

“Um yeah,” Harry responds with flushed cheeks, immediately looking to his feet.

“Ok, you gotta be quiet though and we can’t turn on the lights.”

Louis is met with three quizzical looks, but chooses not to say anything else. Instead, he turns
around and waves over his shoulder in the direction of the resort. They’re quiet for the walk, the
occasional cold huff the only noise among them. The moon is huge and casts an odd filtered blue-
ish hue over everything, which is amplified by the lack of any other light source. It’s late and Louis
is used to the resort, and the little village attached to it, shutting down early. Most of the restaurants
and stores cater to the family crowd, who are in bed by ten. Anyone looking for fun beyond those
hours, either needs to be on staff to frequent the staff bar, or drive the short trek into town, where
night-life is more of a thing.

They round the corner of the back of the main building. The staff entrance is down a trail in-
between two clumps of Emerald Cedar’s. Like Disney Land, but on a much lesser scale, the goal is
to keep as much of the mystique for the guests as possible. The shadows the trees cast make it
difficult to see, as Louis fumbles through his set of keys.

“Hey, how’d you get those?” Zayn whispers incredulously.

“Shhhhhh.” Louis hisses back, “I know a guy.” He finally locates the key he wants and slips it in
the lock. Pulling the door open, he waves to the other three to go ahead.

“This is kind of scary,” Harry peeps in the opening, the only light in the long corridor from the red
emergency exit sign.
“Don’t worry, Harold. I got you.” Louis, on instinct, lays a light hand on the other boy’s back.

“I’ve heard that before.” Harry shakes away and walks past a hesitant Gemma and Zayn through
the door.

Louis locks back up, when they’re all inside and gestures to the way ahead. It feels like everyone is
holding their breath, on edge in the dark space, as they tiptoe along.

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this,” Gemma says, her words barely audible.

“Me neither.” Zayn responds in the same hushed way.

“It’ll be worth it, I swear.” Louis promises. “Now shut up, the lot of you, unless you want to get
caught.”

Louis leads them down a number of hallways, all as dark as the previous. Then they’re scuttling
through a larger room. It really is hard to see much more than the person in front of them; Louis’
not sure he’s even going in the right direction and holds his breath, as he pulls open the next door.
A dim light floods in. He did good. They’re in the utility room he thought they were and in front of
them is the indoor pool. The moon through the large windows on two sides of the space fills the
area with a soft pearlescent glow.

“Lou-eh!” Zayn says a bit too loudly wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist from behind. He
gives a quick squeeze and is in the next room, stripping out of his clothes in seconds.

“So, apparently Zayn’s in for a swim. How ‘bout you two? They put the chemicals in the other day.
I know because I saw the pool guy here, which means we don’t have to worry about frying our
skin off.” He winks to Gemma and Harry.

“I’m in, if Gemma’s in.”

“Ok let’s do this,” Gemma agrees, “but like no one gets fully naked, alright. Brother and sister
here, remember?”

Harry lets out one of his loud guffaws and clamps his hand over his mouth, seemingly a common
occurrence with him. “Yeah, Gem. No one’s getting naked.”

Louis spots a pile of clean towels on the other side of the room. “Someone hold the door while I
grab us towels?”

“I got it.” Harry confirms.

“Then I’m getting in. Someone needs to make sure Zayn doesn’t drown." She winks.

The three of them look to Zayn, decked out in his boxers, lounging on a floaty toy (that he must
have grabbed from a pile at the other side of the pool). One of his feet dangles in the water, as he
runs a hand through his wet hair.

“Gawd, that boy could be a model.” Gemma says offhandedly, before she strolls to a secluded spot
to pull off her outer layers of clothes.

Louis’ arms are full of towels, when he steps back to where Harry’s holding the door for him. He
stops in front of the other boy, standing too close, as per usual. The towels he’s holding are pressed
to Harry’s chest, as are the backs of Louis’ arms, their faces close together, when Louis says
simply, “Thanks”.
Harry’s green eyes are set on him in a way he’s been wishing for all night. He looks like some
kind of elfin princess in the almost magical glow of the moon.

“This is nice, what you’re doing for Zayn.” Harry’s breath comes out fruity, like he’s been eating
gummy candies, across Louis’ face.

“He’s a good mate and it’s kind of my fault.” Louis still hasn’t pulled away and that sense of
teetering just a little closer is strong in his chest.

“S’not your fault.” Harry’s brow furrows. “How’s Liam kissing you, your fault?”

“Dunno, but it feels like it is. None of it would have happened, if I just stayed and help Zayn clean-
up tonight. If he didn’t have to cover my tables.”

Harry, by this point, is pressed against the door, which is pushed back as far as it can go, even
though, he’s leaning into Louis, the same way Louis is leaning into him.

“How come Zayn had to cover your tables, anyway? He had a rough night from the sounds of it.”

Louis speaks before he realizes what he’s saying, “Because I was trying to avoid you.”

“Why?” Harry’s breath is hushed, voice quiet.

“That’s a long story, innit?”

“I’d like to hear it, though.”

“Come on lover boys,” Zayn calls from the pool. Apparently Zayn is now feeling carefree and not
in the slightest bit concerned with getting caught, as he sends a splash of water in their direction.

Louis looks to Harry and hopes his eyes have made it clear without him saying it; they will have
this conversation, but not now. He then walks past the other boy over to the edge of the pool and
hisses at Zayn, “If you don’t want to get fired, I’d shut that pretty mouth of yours.”

Zayn laughs louder sending another spray of water at Louis. This time he’s close enough to get
droplets of water on Louis’ clothes. Louis immediately drops the towels on the tiled floor, pulls off
his jacket and shrugs out of his shirt and jeans, throwing them off to side, so they don’t get soaked.
With a low growl he jumps in the pool to attack Zayn.
 Chapter 7
Chapter Summary

This is a bit of a beefy chapter. I hope you enjoy :)

Harry’s not quite sure how Louis can be so sweet and thoughtful in some ways and completely
oblivious in others. Like the whole Zayn and Liam situation. Even as drunk as he is, he cares
enough to recognize exactly what his friend needs (an outlandish, and possibly risky, pool-based
shenanigan) and make it happen. This on top of the fact that he is the one who had a tongue
aggressively thrust down his throat earlier that evening. Something he hasn’t even complained
about once and he apologized for.

Harry goes to ruffle the front of his hair, but notes that most of it’s tucked haphazardly, but with
care, into his headscarf. Earlier on their way out for the evening, he’d stuffed a pair of cute, pink,
ear muffs into his pocket on a whim, thinking a hat would be tricky with his current hair style.
Feeling the soft touch of fur on his finger, he realizes he’s been wearing them since they left the
bar. He had a whole, seemingly important, moment with Louis, while wearing pink furry earmuffs.
He mentally hits his head with his palm not wanting to call further attention to himself. Hopefully
Louis is as inattentive with headwear as he is about Liam’s obvious crush on him; Harry is blown
away that Louis somehow missed this. The fact that Liam is clearly head over heels for the other
boy was made apparent to Harry after only a few short hours and a handful of drinks.

This brings Harry back to his original train of thought. Does Louis just not see how great he
actually is? Which it’s Louis, that’s so off-brand. Could all his self-assuredness be just for show?
Or is his complete mental block at Liam’s crush simply denial? Maybe, Louis thinks if he pretends
it isn’t there, he can avoid it from erupting into massive problems for Liam and Zayn. Harry bites
his lip, as he ponders the various possible scenarios.

He hasn’t moved since Louis ran towards the pool, but is instead, still pressed against the door
staring out into the other room, as if his eyes are tied with string to Louis’ retreating figure. He
quickly exhausts all Louis/Liam related concerns, tuning in on the more crucial thoughts currently
fighting for top ranking in his brain:

1. Why was Louis avoiding him? And does he plan on doing it again?
2. Holy shit Louis is taking off his clothes!

The second one, being timelier in nature, wins, as he focuses on the way Louis’ back bends and
flexes, while he tugs the tight ankle of his skinnies over his left foot, hopping on the right, so not to
topple over. His thick thighs and that glorious bottom are highlighted in this position and Harry
flusters when he catches Zayn winking at him. His penchant for staring anything, but subtle.

Louis has finally stripped to his underpants, and the low growl he emits, as he jumps, limbs
flailing, into the pool, sends shivers up Harry’s spine. Zayn is laughing and attempting to paddle
away, while Gemma treads water and hides her face from the splashes coming in her direction.

There’s a quick tussle, as Louis pulls at Zayn’s pool floaty unsuccessfully, then proceeds to enact
the Jack door scene from Titanic. Harry is wide eyed, watching the other boy, who is completely in
his element. Louis’ smile takes over his whole face and his laugh seems to bounce off the walls of
the large room. It’s too loud and yet somewhat fitting. The tiles and pool are a light blue colour
that only add to the hazy ethereal feeling of the moment. Harry’s basking in it, Louis’ sprite like
excitement and the otherworldliness of his surroundings.

That’s when it hits him, a hard phantom thud in the chest, similar to a quarter back being tackled
by the opposing team. He likes Louis. And not just in a nice bum, cute face kind of way. No. He
like likes Louis. In the ‘writing his name all over his notebook with a heart over the 'i’ kind of way.
The like that makes you send sappy, regrettable, drunk texts proclaiming how much you miss the
other person.

“Harold, whatcha doing over there?” Louis blows water from his face and pushes his hand
through his wet hair.

Harry shakes his head and goes to speak, but his voice catches and goes all high-pitched for a
moment.

“Did the booze buzz just hit you, or something? You look all… dazed.” Louis asks.

“I think Harry was daydreaming,” Zayn pipes in.

Gemma’s floating on her back, ears in the water, completely unaware of the situation.

Crap, so no help from her then.

Louis' expression turns mischievous. “You can swim, right?”

Harry nods.

“Zayn on three! One, two, three!” Louis rushes through the words, then is pulling himself out of
the pool and running towards Harry, followed by Zayn. “Get his stuff off though. We don’t need
any soggy phones, or a freezing lad on the way home.”

“Wha….” Harry tries to ask before the pair are pulling off his jacket and tossing it aside. Zayn
goes to his boots and socks, lifting and yanking at one foot, then the other. Louis’ eyes dart to
Harry’s questioningly, as he fingers the first buttoned button on his thin blouse. Harry is giggling
now, understanding part of what’s happening, in the flurry that is Zayn and Louis. He makes the
slightest motion of approval with his head and Louis easily undoes the button. His fingers lightly
brush against the skin of Harry’s stomach, flutters murmuring in Harry’s low belly. Louis undoes
the next as well and tosses the shirt to the side. It seems to float prettily in the air for a moment and
Harry is focused on it. Louis places his fingertips lightly on Harry’s chin and draws it back to
centre to catch Harry’s attention again.

Zayn is engrossed in removing Harry’s earmuffs, trying at the same time not to mess up his hair
wrap. If anyone knows good hair, it’s Zayn and he’s clearly taking extra precautions not to tousle
Harry’s. Funny, Harry thinks, since it’ll be wet in a moments time anyway. He looks to Louis,
whose glance is on his face, but crawls achingly down Harry’s chest to his groin and back up
again, as he motions towards the fly of Harry’s jeans. Harry can feel his cheeks dimpling. He grins
at Louis to proceed. Louis fingers are quick and efficient, tucking into Harry’s waistband to pop
the button with ease, but Harry notices how Louis falters for a moment mid downward zip of his
fly. Harry swallows. His eyes find Louis’ again, as if in some sort of tension filled dance, the other
boy staring back.

The blue of the room and Louis’ eyes is almost overpowering in Harry’s current misty state of
inebriation and he diverts his attention to Louis’ lips for a moment of reprieve. They’re tight and
thoughtful, the hair just above and running his jaw line longer than Harry’s seen it before. It
comes off very manly. The little bit of facial hair Harry’s managed to accumulate in his almost 20
years of life looks more like peach fuzz than anything else on his baby face. He knows that. He
wonders if Louis thinks he’s too young. The nickname ‘son’ flicking to the forefront of his mind. He
absentmindedly reaches to Louis’ neck, thumb grazing the scruffy underside of his chin. Louis eyes
narrow at the touch, as they scroll back and forth over Harry’s face. It’s almost as if Louis is
trying to read him like he would a book, really dissecting the meaning of each word. Harry hopes
the attempt isn’t successful, as he stiffens and drops his hand. Then all of a sudden, his trousers are
being tugged down from behind.

“Louis you’re right! Even in pants I can tell that’s a heck of an arse.”

“I did not say that,” Louis shoots back with just a bit too much passion, which makes Harry think
maybe he did. Louis bends and wrestles the bottoms of Harry’s skinnies over his ankles one by one,
while Zayn cackles behind him.

How on earth is Gemma still floating with all this going on? Better for his sake at this point, really.

Harry is stripped down to his tight black boxers, when Louis stands in a tabletop pose and rests his
shoulder to Harry’s abs, hefting him up in the air. It all happens quickly and Harry let’s out a
grunt at the sudden pressure to his stomach. Louis is strong. Stronger than Harry would have
guessed. He’s tossing Harry in the pool with no sign of unease. He doesn’t even seem winded.
Harry catches the sound of his chuckles, as his own body flies through the air, curling in
preparation for impact. He plugs his nose just in time, breaking the surface and sending waves
rippling across the pool. A mess of bubbles fill Harry’s field of vision when his lids blink open
repeatedly, the previous noises gone. His body instinctually responds, propelling him upwards to
break the surface with a clap of laughter and a loud breath. There’s no time to relax though, as
Louis’ legs are hurtling towards him.

Harry uses his long arms to do a half-assed front crawl to avoid Louis, who sends water in every
direction with a well-placed canon ball. Gemma shrieks and Harry guesses she accidently floated
too close to the action. He turns to see, but can feel a hand wrap around his ankle and tug him
under the water again. He wriggles and attempts to get away, trying not to laugh out every ounce
of air he has, as the hand lets go only to be paired with another, slowly gripping up his body from
his calf, to the elastic of his boxers, then his waist. With each new touch, he’s pulled farther
underwater. Louis stops once he has his hands on Harry’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around
Harry’s waist, their faces inches apart. Harry would have a hard time breathing even, if it weren’t
for the actual air in his lungs being almost fully used up. The thought that he probably should have
mentioned his inhaler before this, flits through his mind, but it’s a bit late for that now.

Everything is blue again, even more so than before, the pool liner, Louis’ eyes. Louis' thighs
against his body are concrete, compared to the soft fluidity of the water. His own thick brown hair
flows inconveniently into his eyes and he bats it away. Louis’ is staring at him intently and Harry
doesn’t know if only seconds have passed, or if he’s really in some alternate universe where time
isn’t a thing. All he does know, is he’s locked in Louis’ gaze (and legs), which would be enjoyable
at almost any other moment, but he’s actually getting pretty panicky about running out of air.
Louis grins, bubbles escaping from his mouth and leans in, his expression turning serious while his
eyes track Harry’s lips, the closer he gets to Harry’s face.

He’s gonna kiss me and it’s gonna kill me. How fitting.

But Louis turns his head at the last moment. His cheek brushing past Harry’s before his head
ducks to Harry’s neck. His soft lips land on Harry’s skin just under his ear. They’re quickly
replaced with teeth that lightly dig into Harry’s flesh and then by Louis’ tongue firmly licking the
bitten area. It’s the most interesting feeling, soft against the weightlessness of the water, bubbles
everywhere. Water and tongues seem to be alike that way, soft, but strong, but in this moment,
Harry thinks their differences are immeasurable.

Louis loosens his legs and he’s gone. Whatever lightness he had put in Harry’s stomach goes with
him and Harry’s left heavy like a brick, ready to sink to the bottom of the pool. The pressure of the
water above is proving its strength, as he uselessly kicks his feet. At any moment it will find a crack
in the sad barrier that is his mouth, streaming in to fill his empty lungs. Harry kicks again with all
his power (he knows that getting his awkward arms involved will only be a hindrance at this point),
but he moves a mere fraction of what’s needed to get to the top. It seems so far. It reminds him of
being a kid and walking home from grade school, with a heavy backpack, after a particularly long
day and how the pavement seemed never-ending. He stares at the light reflecting above, as he
continues to drive himself towards it. Then there’s someone in the way. Strong fingers wrap around
his wrist and tug him upwards, his body slicing through the water much quicker than it had on its
own.

Breaking through the surface, Harry sucks in as much air as he can, but it’s not enough. His lungs
are begging for more and no matter how much he takes in, it doesn’t help. His arms flail and his
head bobs under the water, his mouth filling, as he unintentionally swallows. The sound of his
heart thudding and the sheer stress of everything else makes thinking impossible. His chest feels
like it's about to explode and he can’t get any purchase on the water, as his long arms frantically
slap at it. There are shouts in the air, when his head emerges, but he can’t make out what’s being
said. He’s beyond the point of any actual rational thought, when he feels something sturdy around
his chest and he’s being dragged over to the cold tile steps. He splutters out a mouthful of water,
but still can’t get enough air into his lungs.

“Does he need CPR?” Louis’ voice is high and rushed. He sits on the step above Harry, arm
wrapped around him and hand held flat on Harry’s chest, his legs bent, but like a v with Harry
between them.

Harry shakes his head vigorously, as he takes a ragged breath, but Gemma is already on it, bent
kneed at her purse throwing unneeded items aside, as she hunts for Harry’s inhaler. When she
finds it, she rushes over, while shaking it, then removes the cap and passes it to Harry. His hand is
shaking, as he tries to take it from her.

“I’ve got it.” Louis grabs the inhaler instead and places it to Harry’s lips, Harry parting them
enough for it to slip inside. “Ready?”

Harry nods slightly and Louis hits the steel end piece with his thumb, as Harry takes a deep breath
in. Louis shakes the inhaler again and a moment later they complete the same sequence of steps.
Harry hangs his head, as his breathing slows, starting to even out. It’s still loud and ragged and
heavy, but there’s less urgency on every inhale. Louis’ hand stays firm on Harry’s chest while the
other lightly strokes the back of his neck, as he whispers, “I’m sorry.” His voice is tight and low. It
sounds like he might be close to crying.

“S’okay.” Harry manages to say quietly back, as he squeezes Louis’ calf twice.

When he looks up Gemma is watching him intently, wrapping the towel Zayn’s just handed her
around herself. Harry let’s his head fall back against Louis’ chest and closes his eyes. He stays
this way for a moment, soaking in the quiet and the quick rise and fall of Louis’ upper body, the
other boy clearly still anxious.

“Well, that was fun,” Harry finally says in a low raspy voice to cut the tension.
“You’re sure you’re good?” Gemma asks petting Harry’s wet curls and turning his head, so he
has to make eye contact.

“Mm hmm. Yup. I didn’t swallow much water. I just needed my inhaler. Fine now.”

Gemma nods silently, “C’mon Zayn. Might as well let these boys relax a bit. You up for a noodle
race?” She points to the colourful pool noodles in the corner of the room.

“Really?” Zayn scrunches his brow.

“Yeah. If there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s that he can’t lie. If he says he’s fine. He’s
fine. But they probably need a minute to settle, right guys?”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees voice in tatters.

“Alright then, Zayn, get ready to have your ass handed to you.”

“We’ll see about that!”

The two strut to the other side of the pool to select their respective noodles.

Louis drops his chin on Harry’s wet curls. “Did I say I’m sorry?”

“You did… But um what was that?”

“What was what?”

“I can’t tell if you were trying to drown me, or eat me, honestly.”

“I didn’t know you couldn’t breathe. You didn’t look scared, or anything… just um intrigued.”
Louis whispers the last word.

“You are pretty intriguing.”

“I am?”

“Uh huh.”

Harry feels Louis shift behind him. The noises of Gemma and Zayn splashing across the pool
filtering into his ears. “Well, next time I almost kill you, can you please give me some indication
it’s happening?”

“So, no more avoiding me, then?”

“No. Guess not.”

Harry can feel the heat from Louis’ skin where it flanks his legs, and the small fleshier spots on his
back that make up two barely-there love handles. Louis’ hand is still splayed on Harry’s chest.

“That’s good.” Harry murmurs, looking at his feet still submerged in the water.

“Harold?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Would you like to ummm… eat with me tomorrow night when I finish work? … just me and you?”
Harry can’t control the grin that takes over his face, “Yeah, sounds fun. Take-out, or something?”
he asks awkwardly, fishing for more details.

“I was thinking out somewhere… like a date.”

“Louis, you’re not asking me out because you accidentally almost drowned me, are you? Like a
pity date? Because, I’m fine. I mean I know what Gemma said about Olly and whatever, but I’m
fine, you know.” Harry unconsciously plays with the wet hair on Louis’ calf. It feels interesting on
his skin when he twirls it in the opposite direction to how it grows.

“Harry don’t be a tool. Do I seem like someone who would do that, to you?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but instead says, “I want to go, but can I speak to Liam first?”

“Liam? Why?”

“Louis c’mon…”

“No. What? Why would you need to talk to Liam? He’s not my mum.”

“No, but he’s into you,” Harry whispers, but he knows he doesn’t need to based on the racket
Gemma and Zayn are making across the room.

“What the kiss? That was just Li being drunk.”

“Maybe, but why didn’t he help Zayn clean up tonight? If I were someone’s boyfriend and I knew
they had a shit day, I definitely wouldn’t choose the bar and my mates over him.”

“You’re you,” Louis ruffles Harry’s hair playfully. “Liam’s a bonehead, that’s all.”

“He seemed really unimpressed that Gemma and I were there tonight and not to be weird because
I didn’t clue in at the time, but I did catch him looking at you… in like this way. You know, when
we all went shopping and the night I stayed over. Just a couple quick times.”

“Oh yeah? What way?”

Harry’s hand trails up to Louis’ knee and continues to draw random circles with the water
droplets on his fingers.

“The way you look at someone you have a crush on. Like sunbeams shine out of their bum, or
whatever.”

“Descriptive,” Louis chuckles from behind him and Harry can feel his chest move with the noise.
“But I don’t think Liam looks at me like that.”

“I mean I wasn’t sure either, since everybody looks at you like that. I just figured it’s because
you’re cute and funny in that annoying way of yours.” Harry blabbers, letting his words get ahead
of his thoughts.

“Wait, you think I’m cute?”

“What?” Harry stammers.

“Funny though, innit? You hate it when I call you sunshine, but you think Li sees sunbeams coming
from me arse. I mean it is a damn good arse.” It’s like Louis’ inner monologue is somehow not in
his head anymore without him knowing it. His accent getting stronger too.
“When did you call me sunshine? I would remember that.”

“Uh, Harold, I’m starting to prune. Are you feeling better?” Louis asks abruptly.

“I am. But about the date,” Harry stands as Louis does and turns to look him in the eye. “I want to
go. I mean I really want to go. I just want to make sure Liam’s cool. I don’t know how Zayn is
gonna be feeling towards him and I doubt Liam will open up to you right now. Niall’s awesome,
but he’s so chill, I feel like he’s the last person anyone would go to with a problem because he’d
just shrug it off like nothing. I mean in terms of advice giving; he was much better at handling my
chair lift phobia than you were.” Louis rolls his eyes, as Harry blathers on. “Anyway, I just think
everyone should have someone to talk to when they have a big problem like this.” Harry can feel
he’s making puppy dog eyes. He’s been told he does that, but he wants this date to happen so bad,
he’s banking on sad eyes for the win.

Louis clears his throat and looks down at his feet on the upper step. “That’s really nice of you.
Don’t know how Li’s gonna take it, but he’s a sweet guy and you’re right, he probably needs
someone to talk to. He doesn’t work until eleven tomorrow. You good to swing by our place on
your own?”

Harry nods vigorously, his cheeks hurting he’s smiling so wide.

Louis nods back, “Okay then let’s get dressed. I’m freezing and I don’t want you getting the wrong
idea.”

Harry can’t help the loud guffaw that escapes his mouth, as his eyes dart to Louis’ groin.

“I saw that!” Louis gasps turning his body away.

This gets Harry laughing again, as Louis puffs his chest out, clearly happy with himself.

“Gemma, Zayn, home time!”

“Yes, daddy.” Zayn calls teasingly.

Harry has no control over the high-pitched noise that comes gurgling from the back of his throat,
embarrassed giggles bubbling out afterward, as Louis looks to him shocked.

“Harold!” His voice goes high and teasing. “You little pervert!”

Harry ducks his head, instinctively hiding it against Louis’ arm and back, letting more laughter
course through him. Louis smells like chlorine and warmth and Harry does his best not to take a
quick nip at the skin so very close to his mouth.

“C’mon, you,” Louis says placing a hand behind Harry’s back and gently directing him up the
pool steps. The light touch sending serotonin to Harry’s brain in droves, enough that he could
drown in it. It’s official, Louis will be the death of him, the question is how good will it feel when it
happens.

**

Harry knocks hesitantly at suite 201. It takes few minutes before a haggard looking Liam answers
the door.

“Oh hey.” There’s a confused tone to Liam’s voice, as he elongates the second word. “Niall and
Louis are working.” Liam scratches his head. “Zayn’s out too, but you’re not here to see him, are
you?”

“Hi,” Harry smiles, hoping to relay the friendship he wants to extend with his facial expression
alone. “I’m actually here for you.”

“You’re not gonna tell me off, are you? I mean I guess it’s better than the silent treatment I’m
getting from the rest of ‘em. Have at it.”

“Can I come in? Maybe we could have a tea, or a coffee, if you have time? Lou mentioned you
have to work at eleven?” Harry knows it’s around nine-thirty based on when he left the cabin.

Liam looks at his feet, his cheeks flushing, “I called out for the day.”

“Uh oh. Does that mean one of your roommates is going to have to pick up the slack again?”
There’s no judgement in Harry’s question, just concern.

“Nah. Ed’s gonna cover. He’s cool. Wanna go for breakfast?”

“Sure. Yeah. Okay.” Each word Harry says comes out more enthusiastic than the previous.

Liam grabs his jacket from the hook beside the door and pulls on a pair of boots. “Sweet. I know a
place.”

Harry assumes they’ll end up at the same spot he’d met Niall before his first lesson. The café he’s
frequented a few times now, but instead Liam leads the way to a parking lot behind their building.

“You’re not like gonna take me somewhere and murder me, are you?” Harry’s grinning, but still
thinks there’s a ten percent chance that Liam might have this in mind.

“You’re too tall. How would I get rid of the body? Too much energy when I’m pulling a sickie.”

“Well, that solves that then.”

Liam pops the door locks of a used looking Volkswagen with his fob.

“Isn’t this Niall’s car?

“It’s Lou’s. Well, we all share it, really. It used to belong to another guy who worked here. He sold
it to Lou when he left. Louis just leaves it here for any extended periods of time at home, or
whatever, instead of selling it. He says he just keeps coming back, so I guess he’s not concerned.”

“Oh right, he doesn’t stay year-round.” It’s a statement. Harry knows this, but is trying to cement
it in his brain.

“No, not generally. His main reason for coming is to snowboard. The serving tables is just for
extra cash, but he can do that anywhere.”

“Right. Right.” Harry muses.

They both get in the car.

“So, I know things got a little tense last night and I don’t think it’s right that you kissed Louis like
that. Not because I have feelings for Louis, or anything, but because it wasn’t fair to him, you
know. But I mean that aside, I wanted to see if you need to talk because I’m guessing it might be
awkward to chat this out with the other guys.” It feels like it takes fives minutes for Harry to finally
say what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to rush it and he wants Liam to know his main purpose
is to be supportive, but he also needs it to be clear that Liam pushing himself on Louis is not ok.
He’s not entirely sure if he’s gotten the message across, but he’s done his best given the
circumstances. He looks over at Liam to gauge his reaction, which is placid and unreadable.

“But you do, right?” Liam’s tone is even.

“I do what?”

“Have feelings for Lou?”

“Maybe, but that’s not the point, though.”

“No?”

Liam watches the road ahead of him and Harry’s finding it hard to connect. Generally, he vibes
with people easily. It’s something he is very cognizant of. Paying attention. Really listening to what
others have to say.

“I mean I know you’re dating Zayn, but like if you… would rather be with Louis, you need to tell
them.”
Liam lets out a noise somewhere between an incredulous laugh and a groan of disgust.

“Ewww, gross! Louis? Have you smelled his feet? And he’s filthy. Like an absolute disaster at
keeping things tidy.”

Harry’s forehead scrunches in confusion, “Then why the kiss?”

“It was so stupid, but I thought it would help him.”

“How?” Harry is baffled, as Liam pulls into a parking spot in front of a worn-down looking diner.

“Don’t let it fool you. This place is the best.” Liam motions to the windshield at the restaurant
beyond.

“I believe you.”

They climb out of the car and walk into the main vestibule. There’s a chalk sign at the door that
indicates they should wait to be seated. A fit young guy comes peppily, hopping from the kitchen.
He’s wearing a polo shirt and black work pants, similar to cargo pants, but without all the pockets.
He’s blond and clean cut, with dimples like Harry’s.

“Hey, nice to see you again, Liam,” The boy says happily. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Harry. Harry, Dave.” Liam gestures from Harry to the other boy.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” Dave winks ever so slightly, smiling larger.

“Any specific table?”

“By the window?”

“You got it.” Dave grabs a couple large laminated menus and leads them towards the table Liam
picked out.

There are only a few other patrons in the small seating area. Liam and Harry choose their seats,
neither all that fussed about their view.
“You don’t know how good looking you are, do you?”

Harry giggles his eyes darting down and back up, “Thanks. Not quite sure how to answer that. I
mean what kind of guy would I be if I was walking around thinking I was hot shit.”

“You’d be Lou.”

Harry laughs fondly, “Ok, but really? Is he actually that confident, or is it just for show?”

“With Lou, what you see is what you get, but I think he’s a little insecure. Don’t get him started on
his arse though. He works hard for that baby and is happy to detail its virtues to anyone who will
listen.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “So, what’s good. Oh awesome! They have avocado toast.”

Liam stifles a laugh.

“What? No to the avocado toast?”

“Just don’t let Louis hear you say those two words, you’ll never get the end of it. Thinks it’s damn
trendy, if I recall his words correctly.”

Harry nods grinning to himself, as he peruses the menu further.

“So, it’s a no to Dave, then?” Liam looks at Harry, one eyebrow cocked, waiting for a response.

“Pardon?”

“He’s into you. Do you want his number?”

“Um no. Am good.”

“You wanna tell me how you thought you were helping by kissing Louis?” Harry tries to bring the
conversation back to its original purpose.

Perky Dave’s back at the table, “You guys ready to order?”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll have a coffee and the avocado toast please.”

“The usual for me.”

“You got it. Two coffees, an avocado toast and a lumberjack. Done.” Dave gives Harry another
sparkly-eyed almost wink.

“Hey, Li. How’s Lou? He hasn’t been in for ages. He left that t-shirt over at my place last time I
saw you guys.”

Harry can feel his face drop at the words.

Liam cringes ever so slightly, “Yeah, he’s been pretty busy lately. I’ll let him know.”

“Awesome! Be back in a jiff with your coffees.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nope all good. So, listen, do you wanna talk about the Louis thing because I think you might have
a crush and that’s not fair to any of you, but definitely not Zayn. If you don’t want to talk, it’s fine,
but um Lou asked me out for tonight and I want to go. I also don’t want anyone’s feelings hurt, so
I’m talking to you first.” Harry rushes through the words, which rarely happens.

“You and Zayn.” Liam rolls his eyes. “I don’t have a crush. Lou and I were always closest, but
just as friends. Zayn and I started dating and I saw less of Lou. I think I’ve been over compensating
for it. But the kiss thing…. well, I didn’t think Zayn would care. I was trying to um… make you not
interested in Lou because when he falls, he falls hard and you’re only here for what? Like three
more weeks? I don’t want to see him hurting when you go.”

Harry wasn’t expecting this. Of course, it crossed his mind, more than once, that he’d be going
home in no time, but he had pushed those thoughts away as soon as they popped up. He also
assumed he’d be the only one phased by his leaving.

Dave’s back with his overpowering smile, perfectly handsome in a sickly-sweet Ken doll kind of
way. He sets the empty mugs in front of Liam and Harry, then pours them both coffee with a
warning of, “Just watch out, it’s hot.”

“Thanks,” Harry nods. He adds sugar and cream to his mug, giving it a quick stir then plays with
his spoon handle while he thinks.

“I didn’t consider that.”

“Yeah. I mean what are you gonna do, wave over the border at each other for the next three
months? And who knows what after that.”

Harry’s quiet the rest of breakfast. He ignores Dave’s advances (there are many) and the fact that
Louis possibly has had sex with this over-coiffed mannequin man. He munches his toast with no
real appetite, while Liam digs into a giant breakfast that spans two plates and includes everything,
but the kitchen sink. They split the bill, Harry leaving a generous tip because he can’t fault Dave
for his service, everything else aside.

Liam is talkative on the car ride home, while Harry looks at his boots for the good majority of it,
kicking one foot against the other.

“Thanks, man. I really needed that.” Liam says a huge smile overtaking his face. He leans on the
exterior of the car to chat with Harry, who is standing by his door on the opposite side. “You
wanna come in?”

“That’s nice of you, Li, but I should see what my mom and Gem are up to, since I’ll be out tonight.
You sure you’re good, though? You know what you’re gonna say to Zayn about everything?”

“Yeah, as soon as he gives me a chance. You really did help.” Liam gives him another smile. This
one is simple and appreciative.

“Ok then. I guess I’ll see you later,” Harry turns with a small unenergetic wave.

No one’s around when he gets back to the cabin. He expected as much when he had to unlock the
front door. He roams the rooms anyway and after finding each one empty and quiet, he flops on his
back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind seems to be slowly processing what Liam said
while racing a mile a minute at the same time. He just met Louis. He shouldn’t have to be worried
about anything aside from getting to know him and having fun, but given the situation that’s not
really possible. Flings seem like such a waste of time to Harry. Even if he likes Louis as much as he
thinks he might, should he even bother? He shoots off a quick text to Gemma.

Sitting alone is making him think too much, so he grabs his favourite well-worn poetry anthology
and stuffs it in his jacket pocket before heading to the main lodge. He really hasn’t explored very
much of the huge building, secret pool visits aside, and that’s unlike him. As someone who loves a
good aesthetic, finding a cozy place to read that’s not completely devoid of people is way more
inline with his personality, than plowing down hills on a snowboard.

He's glad he chose his lilac jumper that morning. It’s oversized and cozy. Exactly what he needs to
curl up somewhere with his book. A bit of aimless strolling leads him through the reception area
(it’s too busy to work for his current needs) and up a staircase, where he comes across a dining
area he’s never seen before. It’s different than the formal dining room that they usually eat dinner
in. It’s grab and go, but with a dark academia feel. Brown leather chairs with rounded arms and
buttoned backs are peppered around small circular tables. The lighting is dim, and the walls,
covered in a heavy vintage looking wallpaper with an intricate pattern, do nothing to brighten the
room. The floors are hardwood, but huge ornate rugs cover large portions of the space. And of
course, the view, like everywhere else at the resort, is stunning.

Harry’s not hungry, but he feels like he needs to buy something to hang around. He eyes up the
candy and snacks, then glances to the hot foods, chips and burgers wrapped and under a heat
lamp. Nothing is capturing his attention until he sees a chalkboard with 'drinks of the day' written
on it. The Peppermint Mocha in swirly white chalk with holly leaves drawn around it, instantly
calls him name and he steps up to the machine that will dispense the tasty beverage. It only takes a
few minutes and a little help from the girl working the cash to correctly prepare the drink, whip
cream and all. He pays, as he sips, knowing full well he has creamy topping on his lips and
probably his nose. Wandering the relatively empty seating area he selects a table by the window,
instantly shucking off his boots and setting his long legs on the opposite chair to the one he’s
sitting on.

An indie coffeeshop type playlist drifts in the air. Harry takes a quick sniff of his book when he
cracks the cover. The pages have a distinct smell, like dust and ink and earth. Something familiar
that he can’t place, but he loves all the same. The simple font on the creamy paper draws him in
like it always does. He reads through the first three poems he comes across quickly, but lingers on
the fourth. It’s one of his favourites. E. E. Cummings love is more ticker than forget. He pours over
it, whispering the words, feeling their roundness on his tongue. ‘More seldom than a wave is wet’
falls from his lips in his deep slow way of speaking. He curls his socked toes reading the next line
in his head, then continues his favourite aloud, ‘it is most mad and moonly’…

He says the words a few times over and likely would have continued a few more, but the sound of a
throat clearing behind him, makes him turns his head.

“What are you going on about, Harold?”

Louis is smirking, dressed in his full snow gear with a box of milk duds in his gloved hand. Harry
pulls himself up in his chair, squishing his book by his thigh and crossing one leg over the other.
His socked foot bobs in the air awkwardly.

“Hi! Just some um reading. Are you stalking me by the way?”

Louis smiles wide, “It is most sane and sunly.”

“What!? You know Cummings? That’s impossible!”

“Why? Louis pops a Milk Dud in his mouth, “Want one?”

Harry ignores the question, “Because no one memorizes poetry. Unless you’re the perv in the
college movie hitting on the Freshman chick.”
“How old are you again?” Louis cocks an eyebrow, one side of his smile lifting higher than the
other. “I mean I am the more mature one here.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not the nineties and I’m not a naïve young girl settling into residence life.”

“Nope you’re a curly headed lad with big green eyes. Naïve might fit though.”

Harry closes one eye, the other rolling and shakes his head, “Seriously.”

“I like poetry and that’s a good poem, so I memorized it. I can’t help that you happened to be
reading one of the four poems I have in my brain.”

“What are the other three?”

“Oh, would you look at that. My next lesson is waiting.” Louis’ confidence evaporates, as he shifts
on his feet ready to speak again, “So, tonight?”

“Yeah?” Harry asks swallowing. He’s worried Louis is about to back-out.

“We’re still on?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to go out to eat… with you.”

Louis’ face brightens, “Ok good. Wear that jumper. It looks cute on you.” He starts to walk away
leaving Harry grinning at his back, but he turns around when he steps just beyond the next table.
“Oh, are you good if we take an Uber? I was thinking of having a drink and I don’t like to drink
anything and drive.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Ok cool. I’ll come by your place. Six thirty, ok?

“That’s perfect,” Harry smiles awkwardly and looks down, while Louis shuffles his feet and taps
the chair in front of him.

“Hey, Harold,” Louis says and Harry looks his way again, a milk dud flying through the air at his
face, as Louis says, “catch!”

Harry’s mouth pops open and he dives to the far left of the chair, his legs the only thing keeping
him from tumbling out. Plop! The chocolatey candy lands in his mouth with ease. He smiles, as he
chews and looks back to Louis beaming from his success.

“Good with his mouth. Not bad. Not bad.” Louis teases, as he turns and waves.

“Heeeeey!” Harry says in a soft whine and he can hear Louis chuckling, as he walks away,
waving, but looking forward.

**

Louis fixes his cream jumper before knocking on the door to Harry’s cabin. It’s much more fitted
than the hoodies he usually wears. He also has on a bit of a fancier coat than his snowboarding
one. He’s attempting to walk the fine line between casually attractive and trying too hard.
Complementing Harry’s sweater hadn’t been completely altruistic. It did look really good on him,
cozily encompassing his body and showcasing the green of his eyes, but the added benefit, was that
Louis wouldn’t have to attempt to be as appealing as Harry would be in a sheer blouse and pants
so tight it felt criminal to look at them. That Harry was too intimidating for a first date, but cuddly
Harry, on the other hand, will hopefully appreciate the chill, but dressy fisherman vibe Louis has
landed on for the evening.

He knocks at the door, his sweater sleeve just slightly too long, covering the meaty pad of his palm.
Louis finds it comforting for whatever reason and tucks his hand further into the material. Harry
answers with a shy smile, biting his lower lip, eyebrows raised and forehead crinkled. Before either
has a chance to speak, Anne calls from the interior of the cabin.

“Louis, what won’t you to do to my son this evening?”

“Pardon, mum?” Gemma wheezes through a giant half cringe of a laugh.

“Yeah, sorry, Anne. I’m not sure how to answer that.” Louis shrugs and looks to Harry. At least he
remembers Niall calling Anne by her first name, so he didn’t flub that bit.

“You won’t get him drunk and send him back here mumbling about cute bums.”

“MUM!” Harry whines. Anne peeks around Harry sending a cheeky glance at Louis.

“Can you do that for me, son?” she asks her expression changing to something a bit more serious,
but still sweet. She manages to say a lot with only her eyes.

Louis instantly feels less nervous. He hasn’t seen his own mum in ages and the ping of maternal
care he gets from Anne’s words goes a long way.

“I won’t get him drunk, but I can’t control the bum thing. That’s on him to stop peeking at my
spectacular derriere.”

Anne laughs loudly, while Harry and Gemma roll their eyes.

“Would you two stop flirting please?” Harry asks, throwing his peacoat on. Louis notices that he
is in fact wearing the same sweater from earlier. The only difference from his overall look, is that
he has removed the head scarf that's normally expertly wrapped round his head and his dark curls
are loose, looking freshly washed, all shining and bouncy.

“Uber’s almost here,” Louis glances from his phone to Harry then his family.

“Have fun,” Gemma coos.

“Yes,” Anne agrees giving Harry a quick peck on his head, as he blushes, but happily accepts it,
leaning his head in her direction. To Louis’ surprise, she approaches him next, sets her hands
under his chin and looks into his eyes.

“Be safe with my boy,” she places a quick kiss above Louis’ temple, just like she did to her son,
then looks to Harry, “And you be safe with him.”

Louis can feel his eyes getting misty. Anne musses his hair, “Now get out of here.”

“Thanks, mum. Bye Gemma,” Harry grabs Louis’ hand and pulls him out the door. Louis’ body
tingles at the touch, as he looks to their hands locked together, then turns and waves a quick
goodbye.
The car ride is quiet aside from the quick hi’s to their driver, an older woman who is happy
enough singing along to the pop song on the radio and clearly unfussed by the lack of
conversation. Both Louis and Harry sit in the backseat. Louis had scooted all the way over when
he got in and was surprised when Harry followed him, choosing the middle seat over the larger
one on the passenger side of the car. The warmth from where their thighs touch is all Louis can
think about, as he attempts to keep his breathing even. Trying to be less awkward, he pokes Harry
in the rib to say, “I like your hair like that.”

“You do? I’m actually still getting used to the length.”

“Yeah, it looks fresh. Makes me want to touch it even more than I usually do.”

“You usually want to touch my hair?”

“Among other things.” Louis barely whispers the words. The way Harry stops and makes eye
contact, then grins tight-lipped nodding, as if he’s sharing an inside joke that the driver is
unaware of, tells Louis all he needs to know. He grins back before the two fall into easy laughter.

Harry’s smile is wide enough that Louis can see his two front teeth. They’re bigger than the rest
and, aside from his curls, might be Louis’ favourite part of Harry’s looks. They’re quirky and
quirky is good. Louis’ done perfect and he knows how boring that can be. That’s what’s so
intriguing about Harry. He’s different. And this, this is where his magic lies, in these two oversized
chompers.

They pull up in front of the Italian place. It’s small with twinkle lights hanging from the ceiling.
Louis can see them through the front window. He’s such a sucker for a good twinkle light. The
atmosphere is a big part of why he chose this restaurant. That and the food is amazing.

“Wow, this place looks nice!” Harry’s eyes are wide and Louis’ not sure he’ll ever get over their
soft green colour. He must have an odd look on his face, as he contemplates this because Harry
continues, “Don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah, I love it here.”

They both thank their driver, Harry more so. He really knows how to make people feel special
without being awkward. Louis wishes he had that talent. There’s a short walk up a set of icy steps
and Louis touches the small of Harry’s back, as he goes up them. He knows it’s not going to help,
if Harry takes a wipeout, but it just comes naturally and Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He even
turns back and grins for a moment.

The interior of the restaurant is dark and cozy when they enter, with lots of two-seater tables
taking up the majority of the floor space, just as Louis remembers it. The walls are maroon and
covered in various sized paintings in array of different frames. Louis instantly feels snug, the smell
of marinara sauce and garlic making him hungry. A hostess efficiently seats them at a table near
the back. It’s out of the way and on the other side from the washroom, so Louis is happy with it.
Nothing like sitting next to the lavatories while you munch away on your dinner.

A small plastic drink menu sits on the table and Harry starts perusing it as soon as they’re seated.
Louis can’t be sure because he hasn’t spent that much time with the other boy, but he seems a little
off, less sparkly than normal.

“I’m gonna grab a red wine. Want to share a bottle?”

Louis agrees. He hadn’t really planned on wine, but he’s easy. With that decision made, Harry’s
focus turns to the thick, matte, page of the menu the hostess left behind. He looks nervous, as he
swallows repeatedly. His eyes darting over the words in front of him.

“So, what’s good?”

“I’m pretty basic. I go with pizza, or spaghetti most times. Their meatballs are huge.”

“Hmmmmmm.”

There’s silence while Harry reads. Louis isn’t fussed about his order. He can decide when the time
comes.

“Sooooo… How was your day?” Louis picks at his sweater sleeve.

Harry doesn’t look up. “Good. You?”

Before Louis can respond, Harry continues, this time gazing brightly at Louis, “I still can’t believe
you like poetry enough to have some memorized. I don’t think I’ve met anyone else into it before.”

“Just call me Shakespeare.”

They’re interrupted by their server, who lights the candle in the centre of their table and takes
their order. Harry goes with veggie primavera and Louis chooses a meat lovers pizza. They veto
appetizers, Louis letting Harry know about the free bread that comes before the meal and Harry
ordering a bottle of Shiraz.

“So what else are you into, Shakespeare?” Harry asks when their server has headed off to place
their order.

“Like in general? Snowboarding, of course, food, video games… I like to read and shop.”

“You?”

“Reading, yeah. Shopping too, but I try to keep it to a minimum. Having too much stuff stresses me
out. I like music, but who doesn’t.”

Their server is back, filling two large wine glasses and setting the rest of the bottle on the table.

“What should we cheers to?” Louis asks holding his glass in the air.

“How ‘bout poetry and new friends?”

“Friends huh? I guess that’ll work.”

They clink their glasses together and Harry takes a large glug from his, draining almost half of its
contents.

“You trying to make me a liar to your mum instantly?”

“What? Oh, um no.” Harry plays with the stem of his wine glass.

“What else did you get up to today?” Louis attempts to dissolve the random awkwardness he feels
between them. He’s chalking it up to first date nerves. “Oh! How’d your chat with Liam go?”

“It was… eye opening.” Harry responds emptying his glass with another lengthy sip.
“Harold, are you alright?”

“Why do you ask?” Harry’s filling his glass again and gestures with the bottle toward Louis.

Louis sets his hand over the top of his glass. “I’m good, but you literally guzzled that in three point
five seconds. Is something up?”

Their server is back with a plate of fresh bread slices and olive oil dip. Louis eyes Harry, after they
both politely thank her and watch as she sets the plate on the table.

Harry uses the opportunity to avoid Louis’ question, changing the subject, as he takes a piece of
bread and lightly douses it in olive oil.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Louis chuckles, “Green and you?”

“Green’s good. I like green.” Harry is preoccupied, as he answers, like he’s not really invested in
his response. He munches on his bread, eyes finally darting to Louis’.

“Your mum is nice. Gemma too.”

Finally, Harry seems lively with the mention of his family, “Yeah, they’re so great. Embarrassing,
but couldn’t live without ‘em. What's your family like?”

“Same. Absolutely wonderful. Loads of siblings. Mum is perfect. I miss them.”

“When did you see them last?’

Louis contemplates, “June, I guess. Came out here early this year. My mum’s can get a little
crowded. Before that I did some travelling and crashed with friends.”

Harry takes another large sip of wine.

“I didn’t think you drank that much? Not judging, or anyfing.”

“I don’t, generally.”

“Harry, do you not want to be here?”

“No. I do. I swear.”

“Then what’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Just distracted. Weird day.”

“What can I do to keep your attention then?” Louis nudges Harry’s foot with his own.

“That’s a start,” Harry giggles from around his glass. He hasn’t put it down, since his last sip.

Their meals arrive at the table. A food runner smiling and setting down, first Harry’s large white
bowl of pasta, then Louis’ pizza. Noticing the quarter full bottle of wine, he suggests a second,
detailing their ‘take your bottle home’ policy.

Harry grins at Louis to get his encouragement.

“Go for it.”

“Thanks, we’ll have a second,” Harry confirms.

They’re relatively quiet while they eat. Harry chewing slowly. Louis likes how he sticks his tongue
out before putting the fork in his mouth. There should literally be a tv channel of just Harry eating,
that’s how entertaining it is. He’s aware then of how often Harry reaches for his wine glass,
topping up both his and Louis’ not long into their meal.

“Sorry I think I got distracted earlier. The chat went well? Is Liam madly in love with me?” Louis
grins because the idea is beyond outlandish to him.

“Apparently not,” Harry takes another aggressive sip of his drink. At this point he’s almost
downed three quarters of a bottle on his own and Louis’ guessing he’s got a bit of a buzz going.

“Was it just drunken stupidness, like I said?”

“Nope. Not that either.”

“Really?” Louis’ not sure what else to say. He wasn’t expecting any other answer than the one he
had set in his mind.

Harry forks another bite of pasta in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. After he swallows, he lightly
says, “I met Ken by the way.”

“Ken?”

“Mmm, yeah. Blond, khakis, Ken doll.”

Louis is lost. Before he can get clarity, their server is back again, depositing the new wine bottle
on the table and pouring the remainder of the last equally between Harry and Louis’ glasses.

“I’m gonna need a bit more information. Not quite sure what you’re on about.” Louis says once
they’re on their own again. He’s getting a little frustrated and he can feel it come through in his
tone.

“Ken… Dave… Whatever.” Harry flips his hand, as if he’s shrugging off the whole topic.

“Dave? You met Dave?” Louis asks and things are starting to click.

“Mmmm Hmmm,” Harry’s tipping his wine glass to his mouth once again and Louis can tell he’s
officially drunk now, by the light glaze to his eyes and the slow, silly way he hums his response.

“Ok first, how? And second is that what this is? You’re jealous?”

“What what is?” Harry looks pouty and tired.

“This absolute disaster of a date.”

Louis instantly regrets what he’s said when faced with Harry’s sad eyes and slightly down turned
lips, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“No. S’is my fault. I’m not used to dating. My experience ‘s more Netflix and chill, or like group
schtuff, bars, dancing. That kind of thing. Plus, the whole Liam and Dave situation…. Got in my
own head, I think.”

“Harry, I’m confused,” Louis rests his hand over Harry’s lightly. “How did you meet Dave and
more importantly what did Liam say?”
Harry sighs as if the whole conversation is too much. He looks to Louis’ plate, “You’ve barely
touched your dinner.”

“Ok, I’ll eat you talk.”

“Liam wanted to go to breakfast…”

“Wait? He didn’t take you to…” A bite of pizza almost falls out of Louis' mouth,

“The place Dave works? Yeah, he did. He served us. Apparently, you left your shirt at his house,
which is absolutely none of my business, but then Liam tried to hook me up with the guy and that
was weird.”

“He what?!”

“Ya. I wasn’t into it. Whatever, it’sh no big deal. But um Liam said he kissed you, so I would leave
you alone. He thinks it doesn’t make sense for us to hangout with me leaving soon.”

“Fooking Liam,” is all Louis can say, as he takes a large drink of his wine. “I understand this
now.” He gives his glass a little twirl. “I’d have been throwing back with you, if I’d known all that
happened.”

“It’shh so stupid, really. I should've been able to ignore it and have fun, but I just kept thinking
about it.”

“Welcome to the club. Why do you think I was avoiding you the other day?”

“Fucking Liam?” Harry asks.

“You got it.”

“Can we restart this night?”

“Yeah, luv. That sounds good.”

The rest of dinner is casual. They eat and chat, Harry slowing down on his wine intake, but still
occasionally sipping away. His voice has a cute sign-song quality to it that Louis attributes to the
alcohol, a slight slur sneaking in every so often. They even end up sharing a dessert, cheesecake,
which Harry happily eats the majority of. Louis will take Harry’s smiling face over a larger
portion of dessert any day.

The Uber home is similar to the one there, the same woman driving and belting out the same songs
she had been earlier. The only difference being Harry’s head resting on Louis’ shoulder. They
walk from the lot where they’re dropped off to a group of Muskoka chairs by a long-doused fire,
near Harry’s cabin. Sitting on the cold wood, they pass the bottle of wine back and forth, as they
banter in the same manner and try their best not to shiver too much.

“C’mere, you’re freezing,” Louis pats his lap for Harry to sit, after watching him pull tighter into
his own jacket.

Harry cuddles up to Louis instantly, like an oversized kitten, nuzzling his head into Louis’ neck, his
hair blowing in Louis’ face.

“Uh oh, you’re a snuggly drunk, aren’t you?” Louis wraps his arms tight around Harry’s curled
body.
“Mmmmmm.”

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yesh, after I got outta my head. Sorry I drank s’much.” Technically he hasn’t stopped drinking
yet, but Louis isn't one to judge.

“Don’t apologize. You were great.”

Harry sheepishly buries his face further into Louis, breathing hot air over the exposed skin of his
neck.”

“You know, I was thinking about a couple things.”

“Hmmm?” Harry asks. He sounds sleepy.

“Well one, you said you don’t have much experience dating and I can’t even fathom that, but it got
me thinking. I guess I haven’t dated a lot either. Like actual dates, so maybe you and I could like
hangout, while you’re here, have fun and not worry about what Liam said?”

“How, when neither of us could make it a day after Li's words of wisdom without being super
weird?”

“What if we make a pact that we go on dates, chill, whatever, but we don’t have sex. How attached
can we get, if we don’t, like officially do the deed?”

Harry lets out a huge drunken cackle. “So, wait, you wanna be friends who go on dates, but skip
the good stuff?” he asks skeptically.

“I didn’t say that. What I mean is we could do stuff. Just not full sex.”

“I’m lishening…” Harry’s droopy eyes are locked on Louis’ and he’s backed up a bit, as if
repositioning himself to go in for a kiss.

Louis holds his hand firm against Harry’s chest, “Not tonight, pal. You’re drunk. And since I’m
barely buzzed, I wouldn’t feel right…”

“Ughhhhh,” Harry pouts flopping his head back onto Louis’ chest. Louis can’t help, but to laugh
at him.

“So whatta ya think? You up for a little ‘mates that date’?”

“I mean yeah, but you’re gonna have to tell Zayn not to call you daddy in front of me again.”

“Oh my gawd, Harry! You’re so gross.” Louis’ laughs while Harry erupts into a fit of giggles.

“Alright, ready to hit the hay?”

“No, but yes. Only because my lips are turning blue.”

Louis walks Harry to his door, after they make an awkward show of both getting out of their shared
chair. Harry’s long limbs the big contributor to their clumsiness. They giggle and Louis does his
best not to spill Shiraz all over the snow.

Harry unlocks the door and steps inside, “You sure you don’t want to stay?”
“Let’s not give Anne the wrong idea,” Louis winks, waves and turns around, as Harry leans on the
door for support.

“Louis!”

Louis turns back, while Harry tilts towards him and places the lightest peck on his cold cheekbone.
There is no way Harry’s wet lips warmed the spot they touched. Louis knows this, but he can’t
deny the feeling of his skin burning in the very same place. Hypothermia he thinks to himself even
though he knows that’s not it either.

“Night, Harry.”

“Night, Louis,” Harry grins from the door and Louis has a feeling he’s not going inside until Louis
leaves, so he waves again and heads back to his apartment. He’s been walking for ten minutes
when his phone pings. He pulls it out of his pocket with his frigid hand to see a text from Harry
lighting the screen.

‘Mates that date it is, but once you get a taste of me, you’re gonna want the whole package.’

‘HAROLD, you’re absolutely filthy and I’m up for the challenge.’

 Chapter 8
Chapter Summary

Sorry for the delay. Sometimes need a lil break after writing the long chapters. Hope
you like this one.

Harry’s room is glaringly bright, aside from the human shaped dark blur perched on the end of his
bed. He cracks an eye, then rubs the sleep out of it in order to focus better.

“Mum?”

“Did Louis lie to me?”

“Muuuuuum,” Harry groans into his pillow.

“Well, did you have fun at least? By the ruckus you made when you got home and the mess I
found this morning, I would hope so.” Anne lightly pats the duvet where Harry’s legs and feet are
burritoed together in a comfortably sweaty cocoon. Leaving his head flat on his pillow, Harry nods
in response. He remembers tumbling out of his boots the previous evening and knocking his board
to the ground. The ensuing domino effect of the rest of their belongings stored in the entrance-way,
hadn’t been quiet. Nor was his burst of giggles, as he eyed the mess before crawling up to his room
without even attempting to clean it up.

“Good. Can you stomach breakfast? The three of us have a busy day ahead.”

Harry lifts the upper-half of his body, resting on his forearm and peeking over his shoulder to get a
better look at his mother, “We do?”

“We’re going snowshoeing, then having mountain-top fondue with live music and after that is
S’mores by the fire. It looks really special. There’s a lantern lit trail I think you’ll love.”

“That does sound fun.”

“Ok then, up and at ‘em. We’ve got just over an hour before we need to meet the group for
snowshoeing. Your sister and I stocked the fridge, so there’s fruit, croissants, toast. We even
picked you up some avocados.”

“Mmmmm, yum! I’ll be down in ten.”

“I thought that might get you moving,” Anne flashes him a knowing grin before heading back
downstairs.

A deep stretch, arms lengthened overhead, alerts Harry to his aching muscles. He flips awkwardly,
getting jumbled in his sheets due to a hard object that digs into his spine. It’s a minute before he
can extricate himself, his phone and his headphones from the disarrayed bedding. He forgot he’d
fallen asleep with his favourite chill playlist on. The recollection brings other memories with it that
Harry immediately hopes are just very vivid dreams and not a foggy reality his brain quickly
worked to forget. He thumbs his phone open in a panic and clicks on his messages with Louis.
And, there goes the dream theory. Harry groans at the chain of texts back and forth.
His first reads simply:

‘Am cold’

‘Hate to break it to you, but there’s not much I can do about that from here’

‘Talk poetry to me’

‘Pffft go to sleep’

‘Ugh AM COLD’

‘Where are you?’

A badly shot selfie follows. The angle, askew, captures from Harry’s bare chest to his feet. His
long legs, pale against the rest of the dark image, are sticking out from the blanket that’s wrapped
awkwardly at his waist.

‘No wonder you’re cold. Get under the blanket, luv.’

‘Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuv!’

Harry’s cheeks pink at that message and he quickly looks to Louis’ reply. An eyeroll emoji. Louis’
next message came through ten minutes later and where Harry’s should have been in a usual back
and forth conversation. Harry wonders if the gap on his end was due to the length of time it took
himself to squirm under the covers properly, or if he’d fallen asleep, or better yet, he’d managed a
moment of rational thought that led him to set his phone aside.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Mmmmm?’

‘Are you naked over there?’

‘Yup :)’

‘Alright, what kind of poetry do you want to hear?’

‘Something pretty… Wait, am I only getting poetry because I’m naked?’

‘Possibly. Either way, naked you made me think of this…

…for dappled things –
For skies of couple colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal, chestnut-falls; flinches’ wings…’

‘My naked body reminds you of a cow, or a trout?’

‘You do have those big Bambi eyes’

‘Blah… And Bambi’s a deer. At least they’re cute’

‘That’s not what I meant and cows can be cute’

‘Whatever. Goodnight, Louis’

‘Find the poem. You’ll get it…’

‘Fine. Night.’

A fucking cow, or a trout?! Harry feels the edge of annoyance, he had the previous evening,
creeping back in. Not understanding Louis’ reference is going to grate on him, he just knows it. But
unfortunately, time is of the essence at the moment and finding the poem likely won’t be a quick
task. Why didn’t Louis just tell him what it’s called, or send the whole damn thing, for that matter.
What’s up with being all cryptic and only sending part of it? He could have taken a screenshot
quicker than typing the lines he did, which means the trout and cow are significant somehow and
that furthers Harry’s dismay. He dresses, in a bit of a huff, his hangover not helping his mood,
brushes his teeth (thoughts of Louis taking up a good portion of his brain) and heads downstairs to
eat before their adventure filled day.

**

Snowshoeing proves to be exhausting. Anne is somehow a powerhouse and leads the pack, while
Gemma and Harry take up the rear, both whining, as they attempt to lift their legs with the
awkward extra appendage strapped to their feet.

“Why did we think this was a good idea? My thighs are on fire!”

Harry huffs out a breath in response that is visible for a moment in front of his face before it
dissipates in the air.

“So, how was your date?” Gemma continues.

“I dunno. Good. Weird.”

“Weird how?” Gemma looks at Harry briefly, but has to focus on her feet to keep from tripping.

“I guess we decided to be friends with benefits, but like more and less than that. Louis called it
mates who date. We’ll have fun together and go on dates, but no… you know.” Harry isn’t thrilled
to be talking sex with his sister, but she’s currently the only person he can confide in and he needs
to chat this out. “I think the emphasis is like more on the dating part, but keeping it casual, so we
don’t get too attached.”

“Wow! You two are overthinking this to death! What happened to getting to know someone. And
also, thank you for sparing me the gory details. I’m here for you, but…” her voice trails off as she
shudders.

“I know. I know. I’m not dying to share this kind of stuff either, but who else am I gonna talk to?
Mum?”

“Oh, my gawd! She would love that!”

This time Harry shivers.

“So, what is it with Louis, that’s got you all um... discombobulated?” Gemma steers the
conversation back to the issue at hand.

“I wanna blame it on Liam making us both think about the long-term. And, he tried to hook me up
with someone I’m pretty sure Louis hooked up with. It was super random. That’s another story,
though. Whatever, it’s not totally his fault. This shit would have come up either way, right? Like
Louis works in another country from where I live and then who knows where he’ll go after that.”
“Harry, you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Just like chill and see if you even like him first.”

“I like him,” Harry looks nervously at his feet and rubs his cheek to hide the dimple that
accompanies the gooey look he’s sure he’s wearing.

“You like how he looks and that arse of his, but it’s been what? Just over a week? You don’t know
him enough to really like him.”

“I know, Gem, but I do.” Harry gesticulates wildly to show he’s equally baffled by the situation,
but then gets quieter, as he tries to explain, “It’s something about the way he’s so sure of himself.
All loud and cocky, but you can tell he’s kind of insecure too. How he’s always messing with his
clothes. And he can recite poetry. And, the sweater paws! Did I tell you about the sweater paws?
But mostly I like how I feel all giddy around him. He makes me laugh and I just want to be around
him all the time, even when he’s being an annoying twat.” Harry’s voice is like a starry-eyed
whine. He can hear the hope and admiration mixed with confused desperation.

Gemma nods, eyes thoughtful and lips pursed, taking in the information dump that’s just landed on
her.

“Dunno if he likes me, though. He sent me this poem last night. Basically, it compared me to a
cow and a trout. What am I supposed to get from that?” Harry sends her a vulnerable look. He
knows he can be a bit sensitive, but he’s not sure how he could have misunderstood the whole ‘I
compare thee to a fish and livestock’ debacle. What happened to a summer’s day? Nope Louis
went straight to cattle.

Gemma barks a laugh and stumbles body first, almost taking a header into the snow, if it weren’t
for Harry catching her arm and hauling her up straight. She steadies herself and smiles.

“He sent you poetry? I don’t care if it was about farts and poop, a man sends you poetry he’s into
you. Fuck, how come no one ever sends me poetry.”

“You don’t even like poetry.”

“True. Hey, we’ve pretty much lost them. Wanna head back? I’ll text mum and let her know we’ll
wait at the meet-up spot.”

“Yeah, good call, but can we take a selfie first?”

“You’re sending it to Louis, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Gemma wraps her arm around Harry’s shoulder and they tilt their heads together grinning at the
camera. They part and Harry quickly fires off the picture.

“What’d you write?”

“Conquered the trail. How’s your morning going?”

“You’re so cheesy,” Gemma says in tandem with an extreme eye roll.

A message pops back through to Harry’s phone almost instantly.

“How far did you really get?” Harry reads aloud. “Like I said. Done and dusted,” he mutters as he
types back.
“Harry, I can see the trail marker. You’re not even half-way.” Gemma’s uncontrollable laughter
fills the air as she reads off Louis’ response. “He’s got you there,” she points to the green sign just
behind them, that neither of them thought anything of until it became evidence of Harry’s fib.
“You should literally never lie. You always get caught.”

Harry aggressively taps his phone four times sending only emojis – the fish, the cow and the peace
sign and is about to pocket it, when another text comes through. Gemma’s peeking around his
shoulder to catch the rest of the conversation and gasp-laughs at the ‘Don’t pout!’ from Louis.

“Wow! That's spot on.” She gives Harry a playful shove in the shoulder, while he tries to address
the sulky expression on his face. He can almost hear Louis, wherever he is on the resort, laughing
to himself with that high-pitched guffaw-chuckle that Harry can’t get enough of. He’s nicknamed it
a guffuckle fondly to himself because he likes making up silly sayings and the word fuck just
seems to pop in his head when he thinks of Louis. Something he should probably dig into, but not
now.

Gemma’s still tittering softly to herself as they start to trudge back the way they came. Neither
talks much as they go, both focusing on each step they take. It’s surprising that even with the
unseasonably cold weather, there are still the occasional peeps of birds chirping and rustles of
small animals breaking the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Out of the blue, Gemma loudly giggles, “a
cow and a trout!”

“Oh, shut up!” Harry teases in his over-the-top way, so Gemma knows he’s joking, sort-of. He
gives her arm a small reproachful push that proves to be too much for either of their coordination.
Her left foot crosses over the right and Harry’s body lurches forward, each reaching out to grab at
the other. They fall in opposite directions, Harry with an audible intake of breath in surprise, while
Gemma lets out a rather loud “ooof”.

The ground is cold and hard. It feels as if there might be a large rock under the snow right where
Harry lands. He’s certain a bruise is already forming somewhere between his bum and his thigh.
He’s laughing uncontrollably anyway, his body vibrating with the effort to hold it in for Gemma’s
sake.

“You, okay?” He asks, peeking over to where she’s lying on her back, snowshoes straight in the
air. She pokes her head to the side and Harry can’t help, but laugh harder.

“Ya, I’m fine. Hang on though.” Harry can’t tell what she’s doing, until she quickly raises her
hand, holding her phone.

“You’re the worst,” he covers his face, but he’s certain she managed to catch a least one
embarrassing shot of him.

Gemma breaths out a relaxing sigh, resting her head back in the snow and looking up at the sky
overhead.

It takes a while, but they finally manage to stand up and finish the trek, plunking tiredly on the
benches near the meet-up area, just as the rest of the group is rounding the corner, having
completed the full trail. Anne is still the leading the charge, face flushed and smiley.

“There you two are!”

Harry and Gemma can only glance at each other, as they take in their mum’s energy, clearly both
wondering how she didn’t pass on the adventurous gene she’s been displaying all morning.
**

Fondue is much better than snowshoeing. They take snowmobiles up to the restaurant, which is a
cabin much like their own, but turned into a cozy eatery with two floors of seating and the most
spectacular views. Harry has to hang onto Gemma’s back while she narrowly misses not one, but
two trees. He’s now understanding why Anne chose to ride with the chalet staff instead.

The set-up is family style, large tables with multiple groups of guests surrounding them, each group
getting their own cheese fondue bowl and accompanying meats and veggies. The fruit and
chocolate are coming next; Harry’s been eyeing the servers prepping dessert from his peripherals,
while wondering how to make room in his already loaded belly.

Of course, he’s long forgotten his annoyance at Louis, already having sent multiple selfies ranging
from drippy cheese mouth to loaded chipmunk cheeks, Anne and Gemma exchanging glances with
every new snap. It’s been a bit since Louis’ last response. Harry checks his phone again, worried
he might have come on a bit too strong with his overzealous messaging. He stares at the screen
willing the three dots to appear, when a hand lightly rests on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he shifts looking up and thinking the touch is from their server who needs by to set
down the chocolate fountain. It’s a bit familiar of a stranger to be so handsy, but Harry chalks it up
to the complexity of transporting the chocolate filled stainless steel fountain, which he’s pretty
excited to see. That, however, is not what greets him. Nope, instead he’s staring straight into Louis’
smiling face. And, the look the other boy wears, is satisfied, but nervous too. It’s the paradox that
is Louis.

“Hey you! You made me jealous of your snacks over here and if you can believe it, I’ve never had
fondue.” Louis sets his spirited eyes on Gemma and Anne, “I hope you don’t mind me crashing
your family time?”

Gemma’s huge grin makes Harry flush, knowing his is likely even bigger and goofier.

“Of course, Louis. We’d love to have you.” Anne motions for Gemma to scoot over on the wooden
bench that flanks the table on the opposite side from her and Harry. Louis plops down once Anne’s
vacated her spot. He rests his hand on Harry’s knee like it’s nothing, lightly rubbing his thumb
slowly back and forth. Harry’s insides flutter, but he tries to play it cool. He wonders how Louis
does that. Never in a million years could he just start stroking Louis’ leg out of nowhere. And yet,
he recalls playing with the other boy’s leg hair at the pool not even two full days ago. It’s like
they’re so comfortable with each other that random touches are just natural. Well, second nature for
their greedy hands, anyway. Because even if they’re hands don’t realize they’re being overly
friendly, Harry’s stomach and skin sure do. Every time, Louis’ thumb moves, sparks ignite in both
those areas simultaneously.

“Don’t think you’re getting near that chocolate fountain. It’s got my name all over it,” Harry states
in a lame attempt to prove he’s not completely infatuated, when he most certainly is.

“Harold, it’s a chocolate fountain. You’re gonna kill your stomach, if you eat all that. I’m merely
here to save you from yourself.”

“Awwwww, Harold. That’s cute,” Anne smiles. “Louis, have you really never had fondue? You
have to try the cheese if that’s the case.”

“I’ll never turn down food.”

“Mmmm, I know someone else like that,” she sends him a little wink that Louis accepts with a
flirty grin. The fact the Louis has never kissed a woman is somewhat shocking to Harry, since he
clearly knows how to flirt with them. His mom, the girl at the chairlift… as he ponders, he realizes
that Louis actually flirts with everyone. It’s in his own sassy little way, but that thought doesn’t
ease the jealousy that starts to rustle in Harry’s chest. Not over his mum, of course. That’s just
gross and Louis is clearly only being a good pseudo-boyfriend, or whatever he is, by being friendly
with Anne. But what about everyone else? All the tables he serves, the people he teaches to
snowboard, his friends, co-workers, Steve the hot massage therapist. Harry can feel his eyes
bugging out a little remembering Louis’ reaction when he realized Harry had Steve as a massage
therapist. Does that mean Louis has also had that experience? He pictures Steve’s hands on Louis'
body and his face feels hot, as his chest and arms stiffen.

Louis peeks over quickly, like he can sense something’s up. Harry gives him a small smile that
seems to assuage Louis’ slight concern because he turns back to the food assessing it before he
spears a piece of cooked steak with a clean fondue fork and dips it in the warm cheese. He lets the
cheese drip off for a moment before stuffing it in his smiling mouth, using his finger to collect the
dribbles on his chin.

“Drippy face is real,” he says to Harry once he’s chewed and swallowed. His look suggests he’s
being secretive, but his voice is loud enough that it’s clear he wants Anne and Gemma to hear him
as well.

They laugh. Harry most of all. There’s something about Louis that’s just funny even when what
he’s said isn’t overly so. It’s got to do with the mischievousness that lingers in everything he does.
Harry can’t pinpoint the exact personality trait that makes Louis so appealing. He would like to.
Wishing he could hold it in his hand and dissect it. Instead, he stares and listens intently.

Louis is snacking and chatting to Anne and Gemma enthusiastically, rubbing his knee against
Harry’s, while he bounces his leg. This is what drags Harry out of his head and just in time to catch
Gemma say, “Oh, Zayn showed you,” through a mouthful of giggles.

“Showed him what?” Harry asks, shaking his head, his hair flouncing, as he attempts to focus on
the present moment.

“Nothing. Nothing.” Gemma makes big eyes at Louis, the official look of ‘keep your mouth shut’.

Harry turns toward Louis, at the same time a server motions to the remnants of food in their dishes
in order to confirm everyone is done. Louis nods a quick thanks, smiling politely while gesturing
that he’s good before directing his attention to Harry. He doesn’t pause, or contemplate, just easily
says, “Gemma sent Zayn a funny picture earlier and Zayn showed me.”

“Louis! You weren’t supposed to tell him!”

Anne is watching on amusedly, while another server is setting down the dessert fountain and
Gemma twists her expression to mock-horror. Harry makes a point to thank their server even
though his head is swimming with an excess of content.

Chocolate fountain. Funny picture. Louis’ pink lips, perfect teeth and high cheek bones.

It takes Harry a minute to sort through the most important information in the current moment with
Louis’ facial features winning out, but there’s nothing he can do in regard to those, aside from
stare, so he moves onto the other topic at hand.

“What was the picture of, Gem? And when did you start texting with Zayn?”
“Oh, since the um… night we all hung out,” she rolls her eyes in the direction of Anne and Harry
understands why she doesn’t want to mention the pool incident directly. He also notices how she
dodged his first question.

Anne is passing out plates, napkins and new fondue forks that the server had left in a stack in front
of her and Harry knows he’s not going to get much more from Gemma, as she fiddles with the
utensil she’s just been handed, eyeing the fruit plate and avoiding his gaze. Louis is watching both
of them with the impish grin he often wears, but there’s something more relaxed about it than
usual.

“Louis,” Harry makes eye contact with him and in a quieter voice asks, “What was the picture of?”

Louis laughs in return and Harry guesses he’s making a silly face. He knows he has a tendency to
reflect his emotions through his furrowed brow, sad eyes, or scrunched nose. He’s been made
aware, anyway.

“Awwww, don’t worry, baby. You looked cute.”

Well, that’s new.

Harry is stunned and can’t think of what to say next. Louis’ body tightens beside him. Anne and
Gemma are too engrossed in selecting fruit chunks to have noticed, or they’re making the moment
less awkward by purposefully not noticing.

Baby. It’s not anything Harry ever would have thought he would like being called. Ever. But in
Louis’ enthusiastic voice and with his accent making the word sound like home falling from his
mouth, Harry has to admit it makes him swoon. It’s like that first moment on a rollercoaster where
the cart passes the top of the hill, but hasn’t gained up enough speed to make your stomach fully
drop. A thrill of excitement at what’s to come.

Anne’s voice breaks through the tense air, “Dig in boys. Don’t be shy!”

Louis sends his focus to the fruit plate, selecting a large strawberry and dousing it in chocolate, as
Anne and Gemma attack the other side of the fountain. Before Harry can grab a piece of his own,
Louis maneuvers his pronged fork with his hand under the strawberry, so the chocolate doesn’t get
everywhere, and places it on Harry’s plate.

“For you.”

Harry’s blushing and wishes desperately not to. But, honestly, the quiet way Louis plunked that
strawberry on his plate. The biggest one on the whole damn tray. Harry can’t help flushing over
that kind of sweetness.

“Let’s share it!”

“Harry, there’s literally a whole plate of fruit right there. I’m not sharing this strawberry with you.
Eat it, yeah.”

“But it’s so big and juicy.”

Louis looks to Anne across the table to ensure she’s preoccupied before he whispers, “I knew you
liked big an’ juicy.”

Harry’s responding cackle feels like it bounces off the log walls and a few people nearby turn to
look. He grabs Louis’ fondue fork, as well as his own, and with more than a bit of effort, he
massacres it into two halves, chocolate spread all over his plate. He stabs one with Louis’ fork and
lifts it into the air, assuming Louis will take it from him. Instead, he turns his head to Harry, mouth
open wide, expectant. Harry laughs again, but that’s all he seems to want to do when in close
proximity to Louis. Ok that, and a couple other things he chooses not to think about in the presence
of his mother.

Harry gingerly places the strawberry in Louis’ mouth, peeping at his mum and his sister from the
corner of his eye. He gets the sense that they’re doing the same in his direction. Louis’ mouth
closes around the strawberry, as he groans in an over-the-top way that makes Harry’s eyes pop
open while he clamps his hand over over his lips to hold in the noise ready to roar out.

The rest of fondue goes just like this. They feed each other fruit while their moans get more
suggestive with each piece, like they’re trying to top the ridiculousness of the other. Anne and
Gemma laugh across the table, so Harry knows they’re staying on the correct side of the line
between funny vs filthy.

When it’s time to snowmobile back down the hill, Anne decides to drive Gemma.

“Thank goodness,” Harry whispers to Louis. “She almost killed me on the way up and it was light
out then.” He’s sure the twilight setting around them would not help Gemma avoid the very few
trees on the path that she just barely missed on the first journey.

“We’re going to skip S’mores,” Anne rubs her stomach, “too full for anymore food.”

“And tired,” Gemma fakes a big yawn.

“You boys should go, though, and have fun.”

“I could eat some S’mores,” Louis grins over at Harry.

“Yeah, me too.”

Gemma rolls her eyes, “you’re both disgusting.” Harry’s not sure if her reaction is because they
have already eaten a dumpster amount of fruit and chocolate, or because they’re being way too
cutesy, or a mix of both. He has a feeling it’s the last one.

“Thanks fer ‘aving me along. Even if I invited meself,” Louis grins to Gemma and Anne. It feels
so genuine Harry could burst. Olly never wanted to do anything with either of their families. It had
concerned Harry at the time.

“You’re always welcome,” Anne says, pulling Louis into a hug that he visibly melts into.

“I’m driving!” Louis states, once they separate and Anne and Gemma are mounting their
snowmobile.

Louis drives much faster than Gemma had. Harry wraps his arms around his waist, possibly a bit
tighter than need be. His whole body feels alive, as they fly along the snowy trail, powder splaying
out behind them and Louis hooting with excitement, while deftly maneuvering the machine
underneath them with the handlebars.

When they pull up to the drop-off spot and hand over the keys, Louis’ face is shining like he’s just
received exactly what he wanted for Christmas.

“That was proper fun. We usually don’t get to ride these. I’ve only driven one once.”
“Thanks for telling me now!”

“No problem,” Louis cocks one eyebrow in sarcastic delight, “So where to now?”

“Oh um,” Harry can only look to his feet, “My mum mentioned something about a lantern trail, or
whatever. We don’t have to, but I really have a thing for lights.”

“Me too! I can’t get enuff of a good twinkle light. Let’s do it.”

Harry releases a breath he doesn’t even know he’s holding, as Louis rests a hand on his shoulder to
point him in the right direction.

“It’s that way,” Louis points with his free arm.

They crunch along the snow and Harry can feel Louis’ gloved hand, or sense it anyway, dangling
so close to the back of his mittened one.

“So, you didn’t have to work tonight?” Harry attempts to start up a conversation.

“Oh, no. I did.”

“Wait, what? How are you here then?”

“Swapped. You were making me jealous with all the food pics, remember.”

“Oh um, sorry, I guess.”

“All good. It was actually an easy shift to get rid of.”

“Really why?”

“Buffet t’night. Everyone loves the buffet. You get paid the same for ‘alf the work. The boys were
teasing me hard for giving it up. They have bets, you know.”

“Bets?”

“Oh ehm, I told them about our… arrangement. I hope you don’t mind.” Louis’ expression turns
anxious, as he faces Harry for a moment, reading his reaction.

“No. That’s fine. I told Gem. So, what about bets?”

“Who’s gonna crack first… wiv the thing that shall not be named, or done.”

The laugh that bursts out of Harry is so unexpected and loud, he thinks he can feel it rumble all the
way down to his toes. He waits a moment to let himself settle and then gives Louis a flirty look, or
what he hopes is a flirty look.

“I’m gonna win, you know.”

Louis is taken off-guard, as his eyes blow wide, but he gets his usual sass back quickly and states,
“You’ll put up a good fight, yeah. I’ve seen those translucent barely-there tops of yours, but there’s
only gonna be one victor and that will be me.” He puffs his chest as they continue to walk.

“Not a chance,” Harry grins out.

“Is that a challenge, Harold?”

It reminds Harry of their flirty texts from the previous evening and he wonders if Louis has been
thinking on this. A little competition over who can hold out the longest could be fun and Harry’s
almost certain he can make Louis crack. He hasn’t unleashed even half of his sexy arsenal yet.

“Yeah, actually, it is.” Harry straightens towards Louis, holding out his hand for a shake. “Mates
who date, but when one of us, meaning you, can’t take it anymore and wants full sex, the other’s
the winner.”

“So, what are the stakes?”

“Well, our goal is to not have sex, correct?” Harry grins again, as he feels the heat running from his
face down his body to his groin. “So, if one already wants it and confirms that, then the other gets
to be the decider, if it’s a yay, or a nay.”

“So, the winner gets consensual sex? I would ‘ope that would be the case anyway.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I s’pose. I mean you’re right, the goal is to not ‘ave sex, so this would be like added
incentive, but I think we need to sweeten the pot somehow.”

“Ok, I’m open to that.”

“Perfect. Brainstorm session laytah,” Louis shakes Harry’s hand, as an official agreement on the
bet. “But we’re ‘ere now, so it’s date time again.”

Harry looks away from Louis’ face to the path in the forest ahead of them. He hadn’t even realized
how much ground they covered, while they chatted. The view in front of him actually takes his
breath away. It’s like something from Lord of the Rings, with the soft glow of the moon above and
antiqueish looking lanterns lining the path between a large wooded area of enormous coniferous
trees.

Louis clasps Harry’s hand. It feels small in the grasp of Louis’ giant glove. The path is dark, as
they step between the trees. The lanterns are pretty, but don’t actually give off a ton of light and
Harry finds himself squishing closer to Louis as they stroll along. Maybe Louis notices because he
breaks the silence of the last few minutes to nonchalantly ask, “what’s your favourite season?”

“Tie between Summer and Fall. I love to swim. Love it. But Fall just has all the vibes. It’s cozy and
it smells good and Halloween.”

“Do you often get dressed up?”

“Yeah, every year! It’s a bit of a thing at the bookstore. They even do this party….” His voice
trails off, as he remembers this year’s event.

“Sounds like a good time. What were you this year?” It’s like Louis can read his mind.

“Um, I was a Barbie Doll. Dress, box everything. Was silly,” Harry coughs.

“Pardon,” Louis gives him the biggest smile he ever has. His high cheekbones resulting in apple
cheeks that make his eyes squint shut for a moment.

“It wasn’t my idea. I think Barbie’s kind of lame, but not opposed to the dress. I look killer in a
good dress.”
“I bet,” is Louis’ simple response. “So, whose idea was it.”

Harry clears his throat again, even though it’s not itchy, or bothering him in anyway. “Uh, it was
Olly’s.”

“So, you were still dating on Halloween? That’s like a month ago.”

“We broke up on Halloween. He didn’t show. There I was at the party looking like a total tool
because he thought he looked like Ken and wanted to dress up as him for Halloween and then he
didn’t even show up. Was with some other guy,” Harry’s not angry and he’s pretty sure his voice
conveys that. Annoyed with his own stupidity maybe, but not angry over Olly. It was literally
fucking and that’s all. He knows that now.

Louis kicks at the snow, quiet for a moment.

“I just didn’t realize it was so recent.”

“Yeah, sorry. I should have mentioned. It really doesn’t matter, though.”

Neither says anything, listening to the crunch under their boots and the sound of voices farther
back on the trail. Harry peeps over his shoulder, the side where his and Louis’ hands are locked
together. It’s a family just starting down the trail, which is a good way away from where they’ve
now walked.

“What about your Ken. How long’s that been done?” Harry asks quietly and he’s not sure he wants
to know.

“My Ken? Oh, Dave, right…. We didn’t officially date. He was never my boyfriend. The last time
we hooked up was a stupidly drunk night in September. I regretted it immediately. Oh, and not that
you necessarily want to hear this, but we were safe and I get tested all the time.”

“Same!” Harry exclaims vehemently. If there’s anything he wants Louis to know, it’s that he and
Olly were always safe, something he was thrilled about when he realized how many other people
Olly had been having sex with. Harry also went for tests as often as the clinic would allow, when
he found out, just to cover his bases. It was a stressful time, since he hadn’t really had to deal with
anything like that before.

“So, can I ask you something else?”

Harry holds his breath. He’s not sure he can handle more heavy conversation. He’s already feeling
dragged down, by the ‘ex’ chat.

“Do you still have the dress?”

Harry cackles feeling the tension leave his body instantly, “Like on me? No, but I might have a
pic.”

“Show me instantly, Harold!” Louis’ grabby hands start patting over Harry’s jacket to see if they
can dig out his phone from one of the pockets, while Harry giggles and tries to wriggle away.

“At S’mores. I promise. I don’t want to take my mittens off here,” Harry spits out through bouts of
laughter and gasps of breath, as he twists his body trying to avoid Louis’ hands.

The trail rounds back through the forest and opens by the firepits near Harry’s cabin. There are a
few families already gathered around, roasting marshmallows and squishing them together with
chocolate and graham crackers. Tiki torches have been arranged on the edges of the space and fake
fur white rugs sit on the red Adirondacks, adding to the atmosphere.

Louis and Harry choose one of the less busy stations and select metal roasting sticks from a barrel
full of them.

“I guess real sticks would be a liability?” Harry asks.

“With you around, I’d say so. I’m a little scared you’re gonna fall face first in the fire as it is.”

“I’m not that clumsy.”

Louis just laughs in response, handing Harry a marshmallow from an open bag. They goof around,
as they get the marshmallows situated properly and over the flames, Harry giving a little yelp
every time his catches on fire and Louis saving him by pursing his lips and blowing out the burning
spots. Getting the marshmallows, crackers and chocolate together also proves to be an amusing
challenge, as does eating them. By the end, they are covered in sticky strings of marshmallow,
melted chocolate and graham cracker crumbs. They both manage to burn their tongues in the
process, Louis laughing too hard when Harry sticks his tongue out of his mouth extra far to
accommodate shoving a bite of S’more in.

“I don’t know how you eat like that without biting your tongue clean off.” Louis states between a
mouthful of marshmallow. Harry grins lasciviously, thinking of other things he would happily use
this technique for, then laughs as Louis’ expression confirms he has picked up on the unspoken
innuendo.

“Stop being cheeky! Hey, where’s the picture you promised me?” Louis asks when he gets back to
his usual state of sassiness.

“Right. Right.” Harry sets his skewer with the other used ones in the designated pile in the snow
and does his best to wipe at his sticky hands before pulling his phone out. He scrolls through his
pictures, as Louis watches on. He finds one of him giving a toothy smile inside his Barbie box,
wearing the black dress and a blond wig.

“Shit, Harry. You’re pretty,” Louis grabs his phone from him.

“I like to think so,” Harry blushes back.

Louis uses two fingers to zoom and scroll over different areas of the image, “It’s official. I need to
see you in a dress!”

“I mean, I’m not against that.” Harry looks to the ground feeling a light excitement in his belly and
a nervous lump in his throat.

“Are there more?” Louis starts scrolling backwards through the photos, stopping on a few other
shots from the party. Harry is about to tell him that he's reached the end, but Louis quickly scrolls
through the Halloween pictures and lands on an image of Olly.

“This Ken?”

“Yup.”

“He’s cute. Looks like he knows it too. This your type?”

Harry looks at the picture assessing Olly’s round face, full lips, blue eyes. “I don’t think I have a
type. I like blue eyes, though, and long lashes, a big smile.” He looks directly at Louis trying to
impart the meaning behind his words.

Louis flutters his lashes, “I’ve been told I have nice eyelashes.”

“Mmmmmm. You do.”

It’s quiet for a moment as they assess each other.

“I’m full. Wanna go to my place? Watch a movie?” Harry can’t be sure, but Louis seems a bit
flustered, as if he needs to work to push the question out, his chest heaving slightly with the effort.

A simple nod back is all Harry can manage, without looking far too excited by the invite. Louis
nods too before he rubs his hands along the front of his jacket and looks at his feet. “Ok,” he
gestures in the direction they need to walk. “Should we go?”

“Uh huh.”

It takes them much longer than it should to get to the building Harry is slowly associating with
Louis, even though it’s bland exterior in no way matches Louis’ striking looks, or vibrant
personality. They throw snowballs at each other, after first trying to wipe their sticky hands on each
other’s faces and then in the snow, in an effort to get them clean. Louis was the first one to lob a
slushy clump in Harry’s direction. Ten minutes later, Harry tackled Louis on the ground ready to
stuff a hand full of off-white dirty snow down the neck of his jacket. It would have been the perfect
moment for a kiss, if Louis hadn’t been squirming around so much.

Harry’s still pondering this as they walk through the front door to Louis’ place and kick out of their
boots. Harry scoots out of his snow pants and jacket as well, hanging them on a hook on the wall.
They go straight to Louis’ room. It’s hard to tell if anyone else is in the apartment. There are lights
on, but it’s pretty quiet.

Louis’ room is just as much a sty, as it was the last time Harry was in it. He takes this in as a wave
of tiredness rushes over his body. He suddenly feels completely wiped out. Must be the warmth
from coming inside. He plunks bum first on Louis’ bed, but lets out a loudish, “ouch” as he lands
on the area he’d fallen on earlier, eyebrows furrowing, as he rubs lightly in response to the dull
ache.

Louis notices.

“Does it hurt?”

“Mmmmm. A bit.” Harry nods. “I think I fell on a rock, or something earlier.”

“Yeah? I wondered if it was bad when Gemma sent the picture over.”

“That’s what she sent!”

Louis smiles and laughs a little. “She was telling Zayn how much fun you were having, that’s all.”

“I’m gonna kill her!”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Okay, tuff guy. Wanna show me? We can ice it, if you have a bruise.”

“I’ve literally been out in the cold all day. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Will you just let me have this one? I’ve had my fair share of injuries. I might be able to help.”
Harry let’s out a sigh, but gets up and turns to face the wall, as he scoots his skinnies down over his
bum past the spot where he can feel the tingling pain.

“Harry!” There’s the sound of the door slamming before Harry can peek over his shoulder to see
Louis’ incredulous face. “You just dropped trou while you’re free balling it and my door was
open.”

“Sorry!” Harry scrambles to pull his pants back up, but Louis’ hand on his wrist stops him.

“Wait. You do have a big bruise. I’m gonna grab some ice. And, you don’t have to apologize. I
just… didn’t want my roommates to catch a glimpse of that perfect bum of yours.

Harry’s still looking at Louis over his shoulder, but turns bashfully towards the wall at this
comment, knowing that keeping eye contact would definitely give him and his growing crush
away.

“Just um lie on the bed if you want. I’ll be back in a sec,” Louis leaves the room, closing the door
behind him.

Harry waddles to the bed with his pants around his thighs then awkwardly lowers himself, so he’s
on his stomach, bare arse facing upwards. He pretty much always feels comfortable naked. It’s not
unusual for him to stroll around in the buff, or moon a group of friends jokingly. He’s certain there
are more than enough pictures of him doing just that, floating around his friend’s phones, than
most other people. But for some reason, stretched out on Louis’ bed, waiting expectantly for him
to come back into the room, Harry feels vulnerable, but in a way that gives him excited
goosebumps on his arms.

“Brought you a beer and the good mac and cheese,” Louis says quietly as if to announce his
presence, as he shuts the door tight and hesitantly approaches the bed.

Harry raises up on his elbows and looks over at Louis very aware of his bum on display and the
way Louis is assessing it. It’s obvious he’s trying hard to keep his gaze on Harry’s face, but it
flickers back down repeatedly, as he holds up a rectangular frozen dinner in one hand and two beer
bottles in the other.

“May I?” He gestures to the bed.

“By all means.”

He sits by Harry’s thigh, passing him one of the beer bottles before setting the other on the floor
and placing the frozen dinner on the bed on the other side of Harry’s body. Harry sets his bottle on
the window sill, crossing his arms in front of his face and resting his cheek on his folded hands.

“I’m just gonna pull your trousers down a bit more. The bruise goes a little lower.”

“Okay,” Harry sighs and he feels shockingly relaxed, aside from the bubble of excitement settled in
his stomach, blood threatening to rush to his cock at any moment.

Louis lightly tugs Harry’s skinnies down a touch, by tucking his fingers in his waistband and
gingerly shimmying them over his skin. His fingers are warm and Harry lets another quiet sigh
escape his lips. He really is tired and he does love it when he’s being taken care of.

“Harry, what did you fall on? This thing is purple and it’s pretty big.” Louis sounds concerned.

“I dunno. I guess I bruise easily.”

“That’s an understatement. This hurt?” Louis gently runs the pads of his fingers over the tender
skin.

Harry closes his eyes. “Nope. Feels good, actually.”

Louis does the same movement again, ever so slowly and Harry’s skin prickles wonderfully at the
touch.

“Ok, ice time.” Louis steadies himself by holding Harry’s other hip as he reaches for the slowly
defrosting mac and cheese. “This might not be comfy,” he warns before he eases the dinner on the
bruised area.

Harry sucks in a breath as the cold cardboard is placed on his skin. He doesn’t realize he’s still
holding it in, until he feels Louis slip his hand under his t-shirt and rub his thumb back and forth
rhythmically on Harry’s lower back.

“You’re a good nurse, you know.” Harry splutters out contentedly.

“And, you’re like a cat. You like being rubbed.”

“Who doesn’t like being rubbed?”

Louis tips his head forwards as he laughs a toothy, eye squinty chuckle.

“Good point.”

He removes the frozen dinner to run his hands over the sensitive area again. Harry’s eyes feel like
they might roll all the way backward behind his closed lids at the sensation of Louis warm
fingertips against his chilled, tingly skin.

“Hey, Lou,” The door knob twists and Liam is barreling into Louis’ room before either Louis, or
Harry can do anything. “What the fuck?”

Liam doesn’t look embarrassed at all for busting in where he’s not wanted, but he does look angry.
Harry winces at the stare being levelled at him. Louis grabs a blanket, throws it over Harry and
pulls Liam into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. After shuffling back into his pants,
Harry sits awkwardly on the edge of Louis’ bed, listening while biting absently on his thumbnail.

“Jesus Christ, Liam! Wot?” Louis sounds heated. His voice is low and tense.

“What the hell was going on in there?”

“How is that any of your business, mate?”

Liam blusters, “I thought you weren’t gonna get together. No point, right?”

“Actually, I never said that. You did and it’s about time you butt out. So, did you need somefing, or
not?”

Harry waits expectantly for Liam’s answer, but nothing comes.

“Listen, Li. If you need me I’m here. You know that, yeah? But this shit you’re doing… like about
the whole Harry thing, you ‘ave to stop.” Louis’ voice is quiet now, caring support ringing through
it. Then there’s the rustle of clothing and movement that Harry guesses is hugging, but he can only
assume based on the direction of the conversation.
The door cracks open. Louis’ peers in and seeing Harry dressed steps back in the room.

“Sorry about that.”

“I should go.”

‘No. S’all good. Stay. Wanna eat this mac and cheese?” Louis leans over grabbing the cardboard
box off the bed. The condensation has made it a bit soggy.

“One, you’re still hungry and two you wanna eat my butt dinner?”

“Yes, to both those fings. Unless you need more icing?”

Harry’s resulting smile is uncontrollable, his cheeks puffing and face scrunching to the point where
it almost blocks his vision, “Dinner sounds good. Much more icing and I would lose the bet, for
sure, and we haven’t even agreed to terms yet.”

This time Louis laughs. A true guffuckle. The sound of it sending serotonin straight to Harry’s
brain.
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

Thank you. Thank you for reading and waiting patiently for this chapter. Please feel
free to send feedback. I really appreciate it and all of you ☺️

It’s been about twenty minutes since the big Liam kafuffle in the hallway. Niall’s spent the whole-
time pondering ways to fix the situation (that aren’t completely altruistic, if he’s honest, but if he’s
gonna win this bet, he’s gonna need Harry to bring out the sex appeal. And ASAP).

Niall’s not fussed about choosing his new friend over Louis in their playful wager because Louis
needs a little Harry in his life. He needs a little dick in his life too, or a big dick… whatever, that’s
not the point. He shakes his head in an effort to focus his brain on the task at hand – making Louis
horny for Harry. It’s even more important now that Liam put the kibosh on whatever goodness had
been happening behind Louis’ closed door. Niall has a feeling that they were finally getting
somewhere.

Inspiration strikes in the form of a ‘get to know you’ dirty card deck, a girl named Marcie had
brought over in attempts of securing Niall as her boyfriend. Unfortunately for her, or him (he’s not
quite sure), the farther along they got in the game, the more she realized he really wasn’t her cup of
tea. A dinner at McDonalds being his ideal date night seemed to be the clincher. The silver lining,
he’s almost certain she left the deck here in her effort to quickly vacate his apartment after he
supplied his ‘dream date details’.

He finds the drawer where he thinks he stuffed it, pushing socks out of the way, until the pink box
is visible. Then before heading out of his room like a man on a mission, he holds the fuchsia box
up in all its glory, as if he’s a proud Mufasa showing off his new lion cub. He doesn’t bother to
stop his trek down the hall after knocking loudly on Zayn’s door, which Zayn opens almost
immediately.

“What’s happening?” He asks, standing sleepily, in joggers and a t-shirt, just outside his bedroom,
staring after Niall. Niall holds a finger up for him to wait. Zayn does because he’s chill like that.
Niall knocks lightly on Louis’ door.

“Come in,” Louis’ reply is distracted, but sounds friendly enough.

Fuck! Niall has more work to do than he thought. He realizes this as soon as he pushes the door
open. Louis quickly looks over at him from his video game, while Harry lays stretched lengthwise
on the bed with his shirt pulled up, patting his bloated lower belly like a drum, right where two fern
tattoos sit on either side of his abdomen.

“You look pregnant, mate.”

“I wish! It’s just a cheese belly.”

Where did this kid come from? Niall can’t fathom it, but he’s definitely a cutie. He can tell Louis
thinks so too, by the way his lip curls into the smallest of smiles at Harry’s comment.
“I’m bored. Wanna play a game?”

Harry’s head perks up, “I love games! Come on, Lew-IS.”

Louis shakes his head, but follows, as Harry gets up, his shirt falling back into place, while Niall
audibly cheers at Harry’s reaction.

“Zayney, you in?”

“Why not,” Zayn rubs a hand in his hair and shrugs his shoulders lazily. This is as enthusiastic a
response as Niall hoped to get from Zayn and he happily links his arm at the other boy’s elbow to
stroll with him to the communal living area of their apartment.

With little instruction they manage to push the coffee table out of the way and the four of them end
up sitting in a circle with the pink box in the center, all eyes on it. Niall is beside Louis and across
from Harry. Zayn is on their other side.

“Ok so I’ll read the cards,” Niall says lifting the lid.

“How do we play? Like what are the rules?” Harry asks, apparently already invested, as he lifts off
his bum slightly, putting his weight on his crossed legs, so he can lean toward Niall, anticipation
literally emanating from his body posture.

“Mmmm, not really a rules kind of game.”

“Well, then how do we know who wins and loses?” Harry looks completely stumped. Like why
play a game, if you can’t win.

Louis chuckles, as he takes in Harry’s confusion, but the humour doesn’t last long. He directs his
slightly squinted gaze at Niall, as if he suspects somethings up, “Wot kind of game is it?” He asks
an edge to his tone.

“Well, it’s like an ice breaker game, I guess.”

Louis groans, while Zayn giggles and Harry looks wide eyed in confusion, his glance darting from
person to person in the circle.

“Not that game that girl brought over.” Louis whines.

“Yes, in fact, it is,” Niall looks to the box lid, “ Questions for intimacy. A game for partners. How
many games do you think I have here?”

“Why exactly do you want to play this?” Louis is messing with his fringe, while both Zayn and
Harry watch his reaction animatedly.

Niall knows he’s got him. Harry still looks as if he’s into playing and Louis won’t pull a full-on
diva moment with Harry around.

“I told you because I’m bored and I thought it would be amusing. You scared to get vulnerable
with us, Lou?”

Louis rolls his eyes, “you’re an idiot.”

“Never said I wasn’t. So, are we gonna play?”

“Yes!” Harry pipes up.

“Yeah,” Zayn says through quiet snickers. Zayn’s on Niall’s side of the bet, so there’s really no
reason for him to say no. Louis just nods with his lips pursed. Niall knows his irritation is partly for
show. There’s no way Louis doesn’t want to hear Harry’s answers to some of these questions.

“Ok then, first question.”

Zayn pops up, “I’m gonna make a snack.”

“Oooooh snacks! I like snacks,” Harry sends a dimply grin in Zayn’s direction.

“Harold, how can you possibly still be hungry?” Niall feels like he’s watching a movie with too
much action, taking in Louis’ astonished expression tied to the comment he’s just made, Harry’s
cute little smirk back and Zayn rummaging through cupboards, pulling out the popcorn maker and
a bag of kernels.

“I’m not hungry, but I could eat,” is Harry’s simple response.

“How do you even manage to stay so fit?” Louis pretty much mutters it to himself, but Niall’s got
nothing to do, but listen, so he happily catches the quick statement.

“Ooooooh, Harry, did you hear that? Louis thinks you're fit,” he coos. And it’s just like he’s back
in primary school teasing his mates over their crushes. The heady feeling of nostalgia and time
passing hits him hard, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s got a bet to win here. And as luck would
have it, his sing song comment is exactly what’s needed on that front. Harry’s grin widens and he
looks to the floor, his cheeks turning pink. Niall, of course sends his attention to Louis because he
has to see Harry blushing too. And yup, Louis is awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, wearing
a small grin.

“Oh gawd, you two are too cute.”

“Shut it, Niall, and ask the question, would you.” Louis quips.

Zayn’s plops back into his spot with a full bowl of popcorn that he sets in the middle of their circle,
“what’d I miss?”

“Nothing. Niall’s gonna start now,” Louis says and looks to Niall to get things moving.

“What do you remember thinking to yourself the first time you saw me?”

Louis laughs clearly relieved that he doesn’t have to reveal anything too monumental, right off the
bat, “I thought, who’s this big labradoodle about to hug me.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment, Lou.”

“Zayn, what’d you think of your old pal, Nialler?”

“I thought you were a goof and I still do. A loveable goof, I mean.”

“And Harry?”

Harry doesn’t even take a second to think before saying, “I thought you looked nice and I was
intrigued because sometimes genuinely nice, upbeat people are hard to come by.”

“Awwwww, thanks, Harr-eh,” Niall can see Louis from his peripherals and the pouty way his
mouth drops says there’s jealousy in the air. And although Niall had to talk him down, only days
prior, for the same reaction to his and Harry’s friendship, jealous could work now, bet wise that is.
“I thought you had a set of pipes and the balls to sing Shania Twain like an animal. And of course,
I couldn’t miss another handsome fellow on the resort. Needed to size up my competition.”

Harry mushes his face into his hands, even before Niall has finished speaking, with an
embarrassed, “Nooooo! Don’t remind me.”

Niall chuckles and moves on, “And Zayn, with you I was just lost in that beautiful face of yours, of
course. How could I not be? While Louis. Louis, I knew I was in for trouble. That grin and the little
twinkle in his eye, like he was ready to get up to mischief right there in that airport.”

“How on earth did the girl that brought this over not try to marry you on the spot? You’re great at
this game,” There’s affection in Louis voice and it makes Niall’s chest light. He honestly loves his
friends so much.

“She thought McDonalds was a bad date night. Can you believe it?”

“What!?” “It’s the best!”

The exclamations made by Louis and Harry are said in the exact same moment and Niall can’t
keep his excitement in over the revelation that they both understand the simple romance of a
McDonalds date night. Sharing nuggets and fries, or maybe a milkshake, with the lingering joy of
the empty ancient play place and piss-soaked ball pit still tangible, screams intimacy more than
anything else Niall can think of. Maybe it’s from years of advertising followed with his own happy
experiences with the brand, but there’s just something sentimental in it all. And what’s romance, if
it’s not sentimental.

“Ok don’t want to break up the McDonalds love fest,” Niall says, trying to get things back on
track, as he watches Louis and Harry making googly eyes at each other from their respective spots
in the circle, “But it’s time for question two. Where’s the most sensitive, or ticklish spot on your
body? Pick either. Harold, you’re up first this time.”

Harry is wearing a little smirk, as he says, “behind my ears.”

Louis’ eyebrows flicker expressively at the words.

“Okay. Okay. Zayn?”

Zayn holds up the inside of his wrist without saying anything.

“And Louis?”

“Um I guess my neck, or this spot here,” he references to both sides of his low belly, his eyes
hooded momentarily with caterpillar like lashes.

Shit! Harry’s got that creepy stalker stare going on. Reign it in lad. Or maybe it will turn Louis
on? Could work?

“Well, you’re all boring. Mine’s my dick.”

“Niall!” Zayn throws a handful of popcorn in Niall’s direction, Harry let’s out an explosive laugh
and Louis has that naughty flicker in his eye, that Niall’s seen so many times from him before.

“Oh, we know, lad. We know.”

“Lou, if you have a problem with my extracurriculars, please don’t hold back," Niall teases.
“No problem. Was just stating a fact. We’re all clear that you’re good with your hands. Or, I guess
I should say, hand.”

Oh, now Louis is playing with fire, is he?

“You want to go there, Lou? Because these walls are thin and I was here the other afternoon on
your split. Don’t think I didn’t hear what you were moaning in there all by yourself.”

Before Louis can respond to Niall’s teasing jab, Harry’s voice breaks the moment, more excitable
and higher pitched than usual. The urgency of it draws the attention of the rest of the room,
“What? What was he moaning?”

Well, there goes the bet. Harry’s not gonna be able to keep it in his pants much longer.

Niall sizes him up, all messy hair and green eyes. He’s expectant and waiting for an answer, lips
open ever so slightly, as he leans in towards Louis, probably without even realizing it. Louis is
leaning towards him as well. Just a touch. His eyes are focused on the leg of his own black jeans
and his hands rolling into the sleeves of his jumper.

“All in good time,” Zayn jumps in quietly, patting Harry on the knee.

Harry glances at Zayn, furrowing his brow and scrunching his nose a little, but relaxes back to his
normal sitting position with a sigh.

Zayn’s cryptic statement draws a stifled noise from Niall's throat. He’s so good at throwing shit
like that out and having people just accept it for what it is, like Harry just has—with confusion and
disappointment. Niall’s lucky for it too. He might want to win the bet badly, but he’s not about to
spill the particulars of Louis’ solo sesh and how the word Harry roughly floated through the air of
their apartment at least three times before Louis’ typical quietly groaned finale.

“Okay! Question three. If you could be anything in the world. What would you be? Zayn, you’re
first this time.”

“Just myself, I guess.”

“How so?” Niall is quick to ask. Zayn’s candor is unexpected and the vibe in the room seems to
subtly shift with his words.

“Well, like I keep a lot to myself because I don’t want to look stupid, you know. It would be nice
just to feel free enough to say and do whatever I please.”

The way Harry rests a hand on Zayn’s thigh and meets his gaze says a lot about who Harry is. Niall
can tell he’s the sort of guy that just cares about other people. Louis is watching too, eyebrows
raised, face open. He looks soft like freshly washed bed sheets, or exceptionally fluffy fresh
powder on the first ride of the day.

After a quiet moment passes, Harry diverts his attention back to the rest of the group and says, “I’d
be a mermaid.” His dimples and glowing eyes match the statement perfectly.

“Because you like to swim?” Niall guesses.

“And because they’re so pretty.”

“Fair point. You got that part down, so I’d say you’re well on your way.” Harry’s dimples crater
more at Niall’s response, but Niall can see Louis frowning beside him. Maybe he went a bit too far
there, “I’d be a rockstar!” He continues, to give Louis time to school his features.

“Not a pro snowboarder? Do you play any instruments?” Harry asks instantly interested, eyes
locked on Niall’s.

“Snowboarding is cool and all, but being a musician, that’s where it’s at. I play guitar.”

“He’s good too. Niall you should go grab it.”

This supportive comment from Louis is definitely not his first on the subject and won’t be the last,
either. Niall knows it. Louis has always been the biggest advocate of Niall’s music, so he doesn’t
mind that his suggestion steers them away from their game. He’s sure he can play some sensual
tunes that will get Louis thinking about Harry in ways Niall can’t even contemplate. He starts
wracking his brain for songs he knows how to play that fit the bill, as he answers, “Ok, mate, but
it’s your go. What would you be?”

“A really great brother, I s’pose.”

“That’s sweet,” Harry clearly doesn’t mean to let the words slip out of his mouth and Niall giggles
at them before jumping up.

“Ok beers and music. Who’s in?”

All three of the other boys raise their hands weirdly in tandem and the synchronicity of it makes
Niall chuckle. He feels like that’s all he’s been doing all night, but the world is funny sometimes
and he enjoys the burn in his cheeks from smiling. He heads off to his room for his guitar. On his
way down the hall, he can see Louis getting up to grab the beers and Harry’s doe-eyes focused on
him. The fact that Louis is completely unaware of the fond gaze, makes it all the more wholesome.
Niall is really gonna have to amp up the sexual tension and potentially lessen the love vibes
between these two, if he and Zayn want the free laundry service that Liam and Louis will owe
them should Louis succumb to Harry’s wiles. And although clean laundry with no effort sounds
great, he also can’t deny the little tug at his heart whenever he sees Louis and Harry together.
There’s just something about the pair that makes him want to cuddle teddy bears and pet puppy
dogs. It’s like whatever is good in the world is in them somehow and he eats that shit up because…
well it’s simple really, Niall is good too. He’s confident enough to know that and he’s drawn to
those characteristics in other people. And, fuck, he just really loves love.

**

And here they are again, except this time Harry’s cuddled into Louis chest, his curls right under
Louis’ chin and he’s mumbling away in the darkened sitting area. Somehow all four of them had
fallen asleep on the floor, sharing Niall’s comforter and the pillows from the couch. This was after
drinking way too much beer and singing countless songs that Niall strummed zealously on his
guitar.

Louis is still questioning Niall’s motives with his song choices; from Sex on Fire to Drunk in Love,
Pony and Talk Dirty, the general theme was blatantly erotic as the night progressed. Whatever
Niall was after didn’t come to fruition, though, with the four of them belting out the lyrics at the
top of their lungs, any tension the songs were meant to hold was gobbled up in drunken laughter
and ridiculousness. Louis can’t help, but giggle remembering Harry dry humping the air and
lassoing his arm like a cowboy. Come to think of it, that’s not so funny any more in the quiet room
with the other boy’s warm body pressed against his. He can feel himself getting hard just picturing
it. And instantly he knows that his previous thought was entirely incorrect; Niall did accomplish
exactly what he meant to.
That little shit! Well, two can play at this game.

He ponders his next move for what feels like hours, occasionally being distracted by his
surroundings. There are empties and bits of popcorn scattered everywhere. Louis’ back is on fire,
the hard carpeted flooring not meant to be slept on. His lids are finally fluttering again, after a
while of listening to Harry’s deep murmurs and trying his best to pick out words. He wouldn’t be
an idiot like Olly, scared away by any sweet nighttime utterance Harry accidentally shared. But
after proving unlucky in his efforts, he’s actively (and almost successfully) trying to get back to
sleep.

The only part of him that’s comfortable is where Harry’s body is cozied into his. He also can’t
help wondering what happened to Liam. He hasn’t seen him since their little confrontation earlier.
Zayn hasn’t mentioned that either and it’s been tugging at Louis’ nerves all night. Even despite all
of this, just having Harry around, puts Louis at ease. His aching muscles move to the back of his
brain, as he begins to drowse.

Full sleep doesn't come, though. The nothingness he waits to wash over him is interrupted by Harry
expelling an earth shattering half scream of Louis’ name, as he bolts up shivering and looking at
the floor. Louis is standing instantly, so are Zayn and Niall, for that matter, but it’s Louis who tries
to grab Harry’s attention by putting his hands on the other boy’s shoulders. Is this sleep walking?
A night terror, maybe? But Harry looks wide awake. His full lips quiver, as he spits out,
“mmmmouse.”

“Oh, shit. Tony Danza!” Niall points across the room to where their furry friend is scurrying off
behind the couch.

“Maybe the popcorn fight wasn’t a great idea?” Zayn mumbles sleepily.

Harry’s still trembling with hawk eyes on the couch, but also darting around the rest of the room.
All Louis can think to do is wrap his arms around him tightly, smushing his face into Harry’s neck.

“He crawled on me, Lou.” Harry sputters quietly.

Louis doesn’t laugh. He wants to because Harry sounds so cute and small and scared, but that’s
why he doesn’t. He’s learned from last time. Instead, he simply answers, “it’s ok, luv. I won’t let
him do it again.”

He’s surprised when Harry snorts amusedly, “And how do you plan on keeping that promise?”
There’s something tentative about the question, like the moment before a heavy storm when the
sky turns chartreuse, then black, but the grass looks green and the world feels heavy.

“Don’t you worry. Me and Tony Danza have an agreement.”

“I’m going to bed. Think Liam will mind if I vacuum the popcorn up now, so we don’t see more of
Tony’s friends.”

Louis isn’t sure what to say back to Zayn because he has a feeling Liam didn’t come home, but he
knows how that will make Zayn feel. He also catches Harry's quick tremble at the mention of more
mice. Luckily for him, Niall’s not as perceptive and quickly states, “Li’s still out. Vacuum away.”

“He’s what?!”

“Um well I saw him leave after that thing with Lou and unless he snuck back in while we were all
sleeping, which is pretty well impossible since he doesn’t know how to close a door without
slamming it, he hasn’t come back.”
Zayn searches the floor for his phone and after taking a quick peek and seeing no messages, he
gives them a dejected glance, “would you guys mind vacuuming? I’m beat.”

“Yeah, Zayn we’ve got it,” Louis wants to say more, but there’s nothing to say. Liam is being an
absolute idiot. He hopes he conveys whatever he can with his expression before Zayn gives him a
weak half smile and goes to his room.

Louis looks to Harry next. He’s standing on his tip toes, arms cuddled around his own body.
Niall’s busy picking up empties, so Louis takes the chance to say quietly, “would you be ok to wait
in my room?”

Harry shakes his head no, eyes enormous, “I’m sorry. I know it’s weird, but small animals freak
me out. Like if they can crawl up my pant leg, I dunno,” Harry gives his body a quick jiggle, as if
that will keep the ickiness away. “My sister had this ferret. The thing used to creep the shit out of
me.”

“Ok noted. No small animals for Harry’s birthday.” Louis teases and is surprised to see Harry
visibly relax.

“You’re thinking about my birthday?”

“Ok, Sun, one thing at a time here. Oh shit. I mean... Sorry, I forget you don’t like that.”

“S’okay.”

Louis can tell it’s not okay.

“Just give me five to clean this mess up?”

So, Louis vacuums, while Harry warily helps Niall tidy everything else, until they’re ready to head
off to their respective rooms, Niall giving a quick wink to Louis, as he shuts his door.

“Would you be okay, if we stayed up a little longer? I don’t think I can fall asleep yet," Harry kicks
one socked foot against the other.

“Sure, yeah. That’s fine." Louis makes a show of shaking out his pillows and blankets, then patting
the bed for Harry to sit, while he continues to pick up old crisp packets, socks and other detritus
littering the floor of his room. When things finally look a little less inhabitable for rodents, he
plunks himself on the mattress beside Harry, “so, you’re scared of mice and chair lifts. Anything
else we should steer clear of?”

“Not just mice. Small creatures, so most bugs, tiny kittens and puppies, fish,” he visibly shudders.
“And it also isn’t just chairlifts. It’s like any awkward physical situation where you need
coordination.”

Louis grins, “I’m not even touching that one, Harold. Too much to unpack.” Louis is kidding, of
course, but he can’t deny the filthy thoughts running through his head about Harry and possible
physical situations he could be in.

Harry scrunches his brows questioningly, then lets the statement slide, “Well, what are you scared
of, then?”

“Hmmmmm, kind of already said out there, in a way," Louis thumbs towards the room they were
just in. "Not being around for my family. Like being away s'much. But I also have this need for
adventure that I can’t fill in my hometown.”
“That’s deeper than what I said. Now I feel superficial.”

“Never,” Louis makes direct eye contact. Harry couldn’t do anything surface level. Louis doesn’t
need years of knowing him to know this much.

Harry clears his throat, “um while we’re being so…. transparent. Why do you call me Son and
what was LW all about?

And here it is. Of course Harry wasn’t okay with the nickname earlier. One slip of the tongue...

“The first one I already told you, Sunshine, remember? When we were at the pool I mentioned that
I call you that. Sun is short for Sunshine. And the second, I was being a bit of a dick.” A grin
spreads across Louis’ face at Harry’s raised eyebrows, so he takes the chance of continuing in
hopes that the Sunshine thing outweighs the second thing, “it was after I saw you drink the
Princess Park. I was calling you a light weight.”

“Heeeeeey,” is the soft remonstrance from Harry. “How many shots were even in that thing? I
mean yeah, light weight is kind of accurate, but I’ve never been that drunk off one drink before.”

“Seven,” Louis swallows and looks down, ready for Harry’s wrath, but Harry just lets out a peel of
high-pitched laughter that most definitely will have woken Zayn and Niall, if they’re already
sleeping. His cheeks pink, as he clearly realizes the volume of the sound that just emanated from
him.

“You’re such a wanker.” There’s humour in Harry’s now whispered words.

“Fair point. Fair point.”

“And the poem? Do I want to know what the cow and fish are all about?” Harry pushes, apparently
he's been waiting for answers to more than just one question. Louis had a feeling that was the case.
If only he hadn't opened his big mouth after he saw that sleepy selfie Harry had drunkenly sent
him. He guesses, he was himself, also a bit more buzzed at the time than he thought. The only
bonus about Harry's inquiries, is that at least Louis now knows he's not the only one obsessing
here.

“That was actually not offensive at all, I promise. The opposite, actually.”

“Sooooo….?” Harry trails off, but Louis knows what he’s getting at. He steps, balancing with one
foot on the floor, and reaches for a thin book on the otherwise relatively unused standard issue desk
included in each room. He passes it to Harry.

“The page is dog eared.”

Harry’s dark curls flop over his face, as he flicks quickly to the right part of the small volume.
Louis watches as Harry’s eyes hungrily flicker over the words. It’s not a poem Louis had
previously had an affinity for, but sometime between meeting Harry and now, it became one of his
favourites, so much so that he can now visualize it on the page:

Pied Beauty
BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

Louis knows he needs to speak before Harry does. There’s a lot to explain in the poem and Harry’s
scrunched brow and slightly offended wrinkled nose make it clear, he’s not seeing the compliment
yet.

“You… you are a dappled thing to me.”

Harry wiggles his nose and his mouth in contemplation.

“Can I show you?”

“Um okay, yeah.”

This is the only assurance Louis needs to hear because he’s been craving to get closer to Harry,
since well, his stream of cheese face texts for starters, but even more so after seeing him half naked
again, touching the soft skin of his arse, having his warm sleepy body pressed to Louis’. It has
literally all compounded into this moment. Louis moves from sitting, legs dangling off the bed, up
to his knees, clutching the bottom of Harry’s shirt to tug him up to the same position. He hopes
they’ll be closer in height this way and maybe they are, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. He
feels as tall as everyone else generally, until it becomes blatantly clear that he's not.

Harry’s green eyes are running over Louis’ face questioningly, his breath warm and smelling
slightly of beer. The soft fabric of his t-shirt is still in Louis’ grasp and Louis lifts it slightly, his
fingers grazing the ferns on either side of Harry’s stomach.

“May I?”

Without question, or hesitancy, Harry raises his arms straight in the air. Louis is actually surprised
by the speed and wants to chuckle at it, but is more interested in pulling Harry’s shirt up and off his
body. It gets stuck at his head and biceps and they both have to stop from a shared fit of giggles.

“Let me out,” Harry finally whines from behind the material and Louis frees him from the confines
of his cotton cage. Their eyes catch before Louis looks down Harry’s chest, resting his hands back
at the ferns.

“The poem makes me think about how the colour of your skin contrasts against the dark of your
tah-toos.” The tips of his fingers trail upward reverently, “And this reddish-brown colour ‘ere, that
reminds me of summer and fall at the same time” he thumbs over Harry’s nipple and doesn’t miss
the quick inhale from the other boy as he does. Louis’ eyes dart up to Harry's again. They’re wide
and green, his face open and a little slack with shock. “This mess of lion hair,” he fingers the ends
of Harry’s curls, “with the minty-pistachio colour of your eyes, like sumfing from outer space, or a
fairy tale, or wotever. And then these lips, that should have every shade of lipstick named after
them, and how they curve like that (how all of you curves the way you do). Plus, that perfect little
mole... like the cherry on top.” Louis touches the mole with the same thumb he ran over Harry’s
nipple, cupping his chin with the rest of his hand for just a moment, “it like all fits together just
right, even though none of it is the same. Good juxtaposition, I guess?”
The room is silent for a moment, as they stare at each other. Louis swallows, “like I said, dappled
just made sense.”

The hushed quiet, when Louis stops talking waiting for Harry’s response, is too much. He can’t tell
what Harry’s thinking, as the other boy sizes him up, so he continues because if he’s doing this, he
might as well do it, “He’s like praising God for nature’s beauty, right? And well… religion part
aside, because it's not about that to me, it’s the beautiful things that he’s admiring, innit? I get that.
Like wherever beauty comes from, they worked wonders with you, didn’t they?” There’s a lump in
Louis’ throat, like all the words that have just spilled out have left remnants behind that he can’t
clear away. He looks down because he physically can’t make eye contact anymore, so it comes as
a shock when Harry’s voice sounds deep and forceful.

“Alright, Tomlinson. Pants down.”

“Pardon?” Louis chuckles and glances back to Harry. His stare is as demanding as his words.

“Don’t think you can say all that and what… go back to playing your video games. No, you’re
getting head. I need to repay the compliment.”

“Sorry? Come again. You want to give me a blow job because I told you I think you’re beautiful.”

“Yup. And come again? Really? You couldn't think of something a little less ladened with
innuendo. I mean I'm happy to make it happen more than once, if that's what you're after.” The
statement is so matter of fact that Louis can’t help, but laugh.

“Um… I’m not sure how I feel about this. I didn't tell you all that, so you'd get me off.”

Harry makes a pouty face back and is clearly ready to state his case, as the front door slams.

“I swear if Liam interrupts us one more time…” Louis huffs. They both stop to listen. “Wait is he
with someone?”

The distinct sound of two voices filters in from the hallway.

“Zayn,” Harry says, his lips quirking down in empathy, but Louis knows Zayn is not the only one
who is about to be upset.

“We need to go deal with this. Um and just so you know that sounds like Dave to me.”

“Why?” Harry asks, like he can’t even fathom what Liam would be doing with Louis’ “ex” (for all
intents and purposes) in the middle of the night, in their apartment.

“Got me? But I have a feeling it’s not gonna be good.”

Liam is clearly not concerned whether Zayn, or any of his other roommates are sleeping. His voice
consistently getting louder, makes Louis think maybe he’s actually trying to wake them all up. But
Louis is as stumped as Harry seems to be with Liam’s almost malicious actions lately. He has
always been so sweet. Why would he do this to Zayn, or to him for that matter? He can’t think
about it now, though, as seconds tick by that potentially could be used to save Zayn from
heartbreak.

Louis nods to Harry, as one last check-in before he crosses his room quickly, feeling Harry on his
heels. He doesn’t worry about being quiet, as he opens the door and sets a hard look on his face.

Liam is most definitely drunk and so is Dave. The pair are cackling over something, Dave in that
boring way he laughs, like a parrot, or a robot. There’s no feeling to his laughter, but it's loud all
the same.

“Oh, Hello,” Liam says, as if he’s surprised by the intrusion, when he definitely isn’t. He and Dave
are crumpled together on the floor on top of various pairs of shoes that normally sit on the door
mat. Dave looks up and whistles. His gaze is over Louis' shoulder. Louis turns his head to see
Harry standing behind him, shirtless, skinnies, so low on his body, it should be criminal.

“Wot do you two think you’re up to?” Louis hisses.

“Why? Jealous?” Liam’s voice is acidic.

“Not a chance, Li, but your boyfriend, who is sleeping in that room, right there, might have an
issue,” Louis keeps his voice low.

“Nah, why would he care? We’re just having a laugh.”

“Liam, honestly, wot are you doing?”

“Nothing. Dave is staying to snowboard for a couple days like he always does. Nothing’s changed
just because you two aren’t fucking anymore.”

Louis can feel Harry’s light touch on his hip in response to his own full body cringe at Liam’s
words.

“You’re not serious?”

“What? We all have to rearrange our lives because this is happening?” Liam waves a hand in the
air indicating that Louis and Harry are the ‘this’ he is referring to.

“Ooooooh, also, can I just say that if there’s room from one more in that 'this', I want in,” Dave is
waving his hand in the air like he’s in school and begging the teacher to pick him next. When he
lowers it, he sends a wink in Louis and Harry’s direction. “That little snack back there…”

“Say, another word. I fucking dare you,” Louis makes an effort to enunciate clearly. He can feel
Harry’s grasp on him tighten, ever so slightly.

Dave zips his lips in response and locks them with an imaginary key that he then proceeds to throw
over his shoulder. He won’t remember any of this tomorrow. Another thing Louis didn’t love about
Dave. Not a cute drunk.

Using his pointer finger and thumb, Louis rubs the bridge of his nose, “So, what? You’re gonna put
him in the guest room?”

“Nah, mine. I’m gonna go crawl in with Zayn.”

“Um. No, you’re not.” Louis is surprised to hear Harry pipe up behind him. “I mean, do you really
think he wants you in there with him right now, like this?”

“You didn’t tell me he’s all protective, just like Lou!” Dave giggles and Louis hates himself for
ever having sex with this guy.

Liam swats at Dave angrily, glaring at Harry, “Fine. Whatever. I’ll give him stuff for the guest
room.”

The excitement of the evening has caught up with Louis and he turns back to his room satisfied that
Liam will do as he says. He almost collides with Harry’s bare chest in the process. Harry giggles
despite the situation and it feels like the first spring day after an incredibly long winter because
even if Louis loves snowboarding, he loves warm weather more and Harry's unexpected giggle is
the refreshing bit of sunshine he needs at the moment.

“I’m so tired, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep,” Louis states, as he closes them back into his room,
Liam and Dave's voices now rumbling at a much lower decibel.

“My previous offer still stands.” Harry’s lopsided grin and sparkly eyes are too much.

“Even after all that?”

“Honestly, if you wanted it, yeah, but also I feel bad for Zayn, so it might not be my best work.”

“I don’t want it to be work at all. I want it to be fun.”

“You know what I mean. Also, I am definitely questioning your skills at judging people’s
characters at this point, just as a heads up.”

“Liam really is a nice guy. I don’t have any idea what’s gotten into him. Dave on the other hand,
can we chalk it up to being really really horny?”

“We can. Where are you now on the horniness scale?” Harry's grin is jokingly lascivious.

“What’s it out of?”

“Say, one to ten with ten being the highest.”

“So, like one thousand then.”

“Okay, so why are we wasting our time talking?”

“Because I don’t want us worried about being too loud, and whatever, the first time we do stuff.”

“Awwwwww, that’s cute, Lou," Harry's face instantly softens. "Also, on the topic of being loud….
What was it you were moaning the other day? When you were… you know... You can at least give
me that."

“Don’t make me tell you," Louis hates Niall in this moment. Absolutely hates him.

“I’m merely asking, but I’m sure I can find a way to pry it out of Niall, if you'd rather not say,”
Harry's wink says it's a joke, but...

He's not wrong.

“You’re the worst... It was your name, okay. Satisfied?”

Harry's smile is huge, all teeth and dimples. His eyes are literally twinkling when he happily says,
“Not yet, but I imagine I will be when I win this bet.”
 Chapter 10
Chapter Summary

Hi all! I'm back :)

Thanks again for reading my story. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The foggy feeling in Harry’s head can be likened to a hazy pink smoke filling all the crevices of his
brain. Louis’ room is cold, but Harry is immune to the chill, snuggled under a mound of blankets.
He must have stolen them sometime while they slept. He apparently put his shirt back on as well
and guesses that was also from the nip in the air. Louis, on the other hand, is sprawled across the
bed, body barely covered, so that his upper back and shoulders are on display. And although Harry
loves the view (Louis’ biceps are that perfect amount of toned muscle and smooth skin, with the
one slung over his head looking particularly biteable) he imagines the other boy must be frigid in
his current state. Using extreme effort, Harry maneuvers the duvet from being wrapped underneath
himself and places it gingerly over Louis, covering up as much of his exposed skin as possible. The
appreciative murmur from Louis’ throat is all the thanks Harry needs because if he wasn’t smitten
with Louis before, he certainly is now.

Louis’ little poetry analysis the previous evening sealed the deal in that respect. Being called a
dappled thing, paired with Louis’ hushed explanation, rough and sticking to the edges of his throat,
made Harry’s oatmeal like heart, feel even mushier than usual. He’s quiet as he ponders it. The rest
of the apartment is too, so it’s either too early for anyone to be up, or so late that they’ve all gone to
work already. The creamy light filtering around the thick-curtained, rectangular window, behind
Louis’ side of the bed, seems to suggest that it’s still early. Harry wonders if he should wake Louis
up just in case, but before he can make a decision, he’s distracted again by mental images of Louis’
declaration. A pair of blue eyes before him, seem almost as real as they were in the moment,
gazing determined, but hesitant. The hue captivating like the turquoise of a rocket popsicle. And
even if the colours aren’t quite the same, the striking nature of both versus their surroundings is
identical. A bit of Louis’ fringe had fallen past his eyebrows, just to be pushed kitten like behind
his ear. Not being long enough, the effort was in vain and they flopped back to almost the same
spot he’d moved them from.

Harry snuggles further into the warmth of his remaining blanket cocoon. He likes the feel of his
feet against the sherpa fabric and rubs them together as he cozies into the space, Louis’ errant
bangs still at the forefront of his thoughts. He pictures his own fingers tousling the brown locks,
twirling pieces to better determine where the flecks of gold come from, the ones that make it look
as if he has his own sun that shines from inside (and he calls Harry Sunshine). Like a movie
playing only for him, the story flits through his head with what feels like little conscious direction
from himself, each scene unfolding organically. The rising action comes quickly, as Harry moves
on to inspect other aspects of Louis’ body.

Dream Louis is dressed in a tank top (because why not?) while Harry nibbles on his partially flexed
bicep. Harry can almost feel the sweaty warmth of Louis’ golden skin. The sunny vibe applying to
much more than just Louis’ hair. How he even manages to have skin that colour in the dead of
winter is an absolute mystery. He better not go self tanning. Harry makes a mental note to find out
and lecture him, if he does. All the while, daydream Harry has made his way to Louis’ shoulder,
his mouth nudging the strap of his tank out of the way to bite just a little harder at Louis’ thick trap
muscle. Harry sometimes wonders if he’s a vampire based on how often he imagines biting at
Louis’ various body parts. All but a couple (and for those he has other plans).

He doesn’t hear Louis shuffling beside him, nor does he realize his own hand is lightly covering a
growing erection inside his skinny jeans. He’s too wrapped up in what’s unfolding in his head. The
rest of the world no longer exists, as imaginary Louis, who seems to move much more rapidly than
he should be able to, is now biting him back. First, he’s trailing along Harry’s jawline, occasionally
nipping with his teeth, hands roaming Harry’s naked body. Of course, Harry’s naked while Louis is
fully clothed (even in his fantasies). Harry realizes his enjoyment in flaunting his body is probably
some sort of kink verses plain old confidence, but he’ll ponder that another time. Dream Louis has
finally made his way to the spot behind Harry’s ear. The one that literally makes him purr in
delight.

He has a love/hate relationship with this spot. It’s why he asked not to be massaged there; and
thank goodness because hot Steve did not need to witness what would happen if he had touched the
offending area. Literally any attention there, no matter how small, leaves Harry a vocal mess of
sounds and uncontrollable body shudders. Olly used to torture him with it, but not in a good way.
He’d tease Harry if he made an embarrassing noise, or moved awkwardly. He made it seem as if it
was all good-natured ribbing, but Harry could tell it wasn’t. The smirky, superior look Olly would
give him, as he’d make a quick quip on whatever Harry had done would always make Harry
squirm in embarrassment. That’s why he found it surprising that he so easily divulged it as his most
sensitive zone to Niall and the rest of them the night before. But again, that’s kind of a given, since
he can’t keep anything to himself in Louis’ presence.

All of that is neither here nor there, though, because the idea of Louis’ nibbling and licking the
ridge just behind his ear, is too much and has him emitting a low lengthy moan in response. He
arches his back and pushes his crotch into his hand. Somewhere in him he realizes he must still be
lingering in a bit of a sleep stupor. He’s always more sexually free on the cusp of waking,
preferring morning and afternoon sex for that very reason. Also, by the time night-time sex usually
rolls around, he’s so drowsy he can barely lift his head. Late nights and Harry don’t mix well.

“You need some help there, Harold?” Harry’s not sure if Louis’ words are real, or if his dream has
just become so vivid it’s made them seem that way. His breathy morning voice is definitely
audible, his lips hovering so close to Harry’s ear he can feel them ever so lightly graze the skin
there. Louis curls his body closer, rubbing a hand on Harry’s stomach. Harry stiffens and Louis
automatically stills his hand in response. His lips linger by Harry’s ear though and Harry actually
wonders if Louis can read his mind. Or, had he been murmuring the details of his little daydream?
No, he doesn’t think so. He’s aware seconds are passing and he has to respond, but it’s almost like
his brain has shut off and he doesn’t have the switch to turn it back on again.

Finally, before Louis can back away, Harry squeaks out, “yes please.”

He can feel Louis’ lips turn to a smile at the side of his face before he lowers his head tentatively
and places the lightest kiss on Harry’s neck.

“But this doesn’t mean you win the bet. We’re not having full sex. I have morning breath…” Harry
manages to mumble out.

Louis is chuckling at Harry’s skin, “understood.” A puff of air hits Harry’s neck soft and warm, as
Louis speaks, making Harry close his eyes momentarily in response. Captivated hands slip under
his shirt and trail up his chest, one thumb rubbing over a lower nipple. He’d wondered if Louis had
noticed those yet. They generally make him a little self-conscious, but the way Louis pours
attention to the one he’s found only makes Harry happily bite his bottom lip.

There’s a palpable tension in the quiet space. Only Louis’ huffed breaths, Harry’s thumping heart
in his ears and the shifting of bed sheets fills the air. It makes Harry feel incredibly vulnerable. He
knows Louis can’t actually hear the thud in his chest, but he has an urge to say something,
anything, to regain some of his footing in the current situation. Even with what Louis said last
night, Harry has to admit he’s worried with the crying, the drunken moments and the mouse thing,
that Louis will see him how Olly had—naive and fragile. So, with as much confidence as he can
muster, while Louis sucks at the tender skin of his neck, he teases, “because this is nice and all, but
I don’t plan on losing.”

“Oh, so this is nice, is it?” Louis taunts after detaching his lips from Harry’s skin.

Harry tries to act cool, giving Louis a quick side glance, but the heavy look focused back at him
leaves him stunned. It’s almost like dream Louis is back with how quick he’s making his way up
Harry’s neck, likely leaving bruises in his wake. He stops at Harry’s earlobe, lightly biting at the
area. His tongue shockingly cool, as it flicks at the fleshy piece between his teeth. His hands too
have gotten more adventurous roaming between Harry’s four nipples, lightly rubbing one moment
and pinching the next. Harry squirms in the best way. His body feels light and tingly while his
brain is a jumble of thoughts.Shit he should be touching Louis. He can’t just lay idly by and let the
other boy do all the work, like a lazy starfish, or something.

So, it’s with this thought that he tries to swivel and reach a hand towards Louis, but Louis stills
him, pushing him lightly back against the mattress.

“Relax,” Louis hushes out the word, once again seeming to use telepathic powers to understand
Harry's thoughts. Before Harry can argue, Louis is placing his lips on the exact spot that makes
Harry’s legs quiver and screw up his face like a rabbit. He trails them so slowly just at Harry’s
skin, so only featherlight touches and breaths actually come in contact with the area. Harry can’t
help, but arch his back and grind his hand into his dick, his breathing laboured. Louis’ grinning
again. Harry can feel the difference in the way his lips feel when he does and just knowing the look
he’s likely wearing, draws a hitched moan from somewhere deep in Harry’s body. He’s not sure
where. He’s not even sure he has a body anymore based on how absolutely amazing he feels. The
urge to have Louis’ hands on his cock is overpowering and the only reminder that he is in fact
human in this moment.

The noise emitted from Harry seems to reverberate off the walls, bouncing from the furniture to
the floor like light from a disco ball. It spurs Louis on. He’s sucking now, right there behind
Harry’s ear. His tongue so soft and the wetness it leaves behind creating a cooling effect that
makes Harry’s skin pimple in delight.

Fuck!

Harry is writhing, wanting contact, but finding Louis’ focused attention overwhelming all at the
same time. His hips thrust up and he pushes his head to the opposite direction of Louis to give him
all the room he needs to work his magic. He can’t, however, stop thinking. He shouldn’t be this
worked up. Yeah, it’s his spot and it’s Louis, but this is over the top. He knew he was horny. He
has been since the massage day, or even before that, but there’s no great way to have a wank with
your mum and your sister close enough to likely hear it. Honestly though, he didn’t think it would
be an issue, but now his body is threatening some seriously humiliating things. One thing in
particular that he cannot under any circumstances let happen this quickly, or just from some behind
the ear action.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Louis’ husky voice spills the words like confetti over Harry’s body and
Harry groans in response. Loud.

Shit Louis must have a direct connection to Harry’s brain because those are the kind of words he
doesn’t need to hear right now if he’s going to keep any of his pride in tact.

Three loud bangs come from somewhere in the apartment. Louis takes his hand, the one closest to
the wall, and thumps back in a clear, ‘Fuck you. We’re busy and my man can be as loud as he
damn well pleases’ without actually vocalizing the words. He continues to pour attention to
Harry’s neck, teeth lightly digging into the sensitive skin there, while stretching his body to make
contact with the wall.

Harry wants to cringe, but physically can’t because this is what tips him over the edge, before
Louis has even touched his cock. The sheer idea of Louis looking out for him (as domestic and
dated as it is), and the way his arm muscles curve as he pounds his fist on the wall, has Harry
coming in his pants, body stilling on the outside while on the inside it feels like every neuron is
firing at once. He tenses before juddering out his release in continuous spurts, Louis’ hand resting
steady on his chest and his lips leaving light kisses where he previously had been sucking Harry
senseless.

When his orgasm has ended and he’s left feeling sheepish and sticky, Harry digs around for
something to cover his face with. Failing to find anything close, he grabs the bottom of his t-shirt
and pulls it up, so only his hair is sticking out above it. He’d rather have his chest exposed than the
other option.

Louis tugs at Harry’s shirt in response, while quietly teasing, “wot do you think you’re doing?”

“Embarrassed,” Harry mutters from behind the cotton.

“Why? That was 'ot as shit?”

“I literally just jizzed in my jeans because you banged on a wall for me. That’s so… worse than
embarrassing. It’s pathetic.”

“You're kidding? I saw the whole thing and it almost made me jizz in my pants.”

“Well, you didn’t.”

“I could if you want.”

Harry let’s out clap of laughter and pulls his shirt down to peek at Louis, “You’d do that for me?”

“Happily. Have wanted to since I laid my eyes on you, but it’ll have-tuh be next time because I
actually have-tuh get up for work.”

“This isn’t like normal for me, or whatever, you know. I am usually pretty good at this stuff. Sex,”
Harry has to say it. He needs Louis to know that he can do better than this sad display. He honestly
doesn’t know what just happened, but he hasn’t splooged in his pants since he was barely a
teenager.

He must look lost in thought because Louis runs an idle hand through his curls, ruffling them when
he reaches the tips and gives him a quiet, reflective smile.

“Harold, I’ve seen the way you walk, and move in general, those sheer shirts and tight pants don’t
hide anything by the way, and even with all the clumsy, it’s obvious your body knows wot it’s
doing.”
Harry’s heart flutters.

Crap! And, there goes the bet.

“You wanna shower? It’s gonna get chaotic in there soon with all of us heading out. I’ll give you
soap and somefing to wear back tuh your place.”

Harry ducks his head, disappointed the shower offer doesn’t include Louis, but nods and crawls out
of bed anyway. The joggers Louis gives him are grey and soft. They’re handed over with a shower
caddy full of shampoo, soap, toothpaste and the like.

“Towels are in the bathroom. Usually, I 'ang one on the hook in the shower. It won’t get wet and
that way no one catches a glimpse of the goods, if they come in while you’re in there.”

The walk to Louis’ door and across the hall is awkward, to say the least, with what’s loaded in
Harry’s arms and his pants. He can feel Louis’ grinning, eyes on his back, as Harry does his best
not to look too foolish.

Once in the shower with the curtain pulled, he wriggles out of his clothes and hangs them on the
hook under his towel. The tap is easy to navigate since he’s used it before. It doesn’t take long with
his hand under the nozzle to get the temperature to a good level of warmth. He lets the water trail
over his embarrassed limbs, soothing out the tension. It’s not helping to calm his erratic thoughts
though. They whirl frenzied inside his skull. He can picture them bouncing off the pink fleshy bits
of his brain like a Brickles ball (an old game he’d played on his cousin’s relic of a computer for
much of his childhood). He barely has time to latch onto one before the next comes to take its
place. The smell of Louis’ shampoo and soap isn't helping ease the issue either as he lathers.
Instead, he’s completely wrapped up in all things Louis when the washroom door opens.

Harry holds his breath while hungry images of Louis’ lips and eyes and biceps run amuck in his
head. Water droplets on eyelashes, soap on skin. Annnnnd, he has a hard-on again. The words from
the other side of the curtain quickly squelch that though.

“Sounds like you’re having a good morning? Wanna share?”

“Um sorry what?” Harry wipes water from his face and pushes his hands back through his hair. He
knows it’s Dave just outside the shower and the lewd nature of his question puts Harry on edge. He
wants to pull the shower curtain over to close the tiny gap currently between it and the shower tiles,
worried that maybe Dave was asking to get in. The sound of the tap running, or Dave pissing with
the stall door open is all the answer Harry gets. He waits unmoving.

A moment later Dave responds, “oh nothing. I just meant I’m always around for Lou, or you, or
you and Lou.” He chuckles to himself and Harry guesses it’s at his rhyming words.

“Uh no. We’re good.”

“Is that so? Correct me if I wrong, but I didn’t hear Louis coming this morning. And yes, I most
definitely know what he sounds like.”

Harry’s face is burning and he can feel the scowl on his lips. Did Dave and Liam recently attend
the mean girl’s school for etiquette because not only is he feeling attacked, he’s also dealing with
an overwhelming amount of jealousy.

The shower water continues to patter on the tiles. Harry’s shocked it doesn’t turn to steam when it
hits his skin he’s that angry. Everything else is quiet as he swallows a lump in his throat and thinks
of a response. It’s unclear if Dave is still even in the room, it’s taking so long for Harry to
formulate a thought, but he’s guessing so since he hasn’t heard the door open again. And just as he
considers this, he hears the door hinges yawn in protest. Harry holds in a sigh of relief because he’s
still unsure if he’s alone.

“Dave.”

“Lou.”

The two boys greet each other while Harry stands motionless in the shower, soap and shampoo
mingling over his skin and occasionally making itself known by almost getting in his eyes.

“Harold, you good in here?” Louis sounds concerned.

“Mmmmm hmmm. Sorry am taking so long. Almost done.”

“No worries. Just gonna brush my teeth. Can I steal the toothpaste?”

“Oh, yup,” Harry looks to the shower cady off to the side and selects the correct tube, his eyes
focusing on a bottle of lube he hadn’t noticed before. A tanned arm sneaks by the curtain and
Harry can’t help, but run his fingers along its length before placing the toothpaste in Louis
outstretched hand. If Dave wasn’t there, he’d be pulling Louis into the shower with him.

He can’t be sure, but he thinks Louis makes a happy little noise, as he pulls his arm back.

Leaving his head tilted back to clear the shampoo from his curls for much shorter than he normally
would, Harry rushes through the rest of his shower. Louis is still brushing his teeth when he turns
the water off and slides the curtain open, a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist. Louis’
eyes track him in the mirror, while he runs the toothbrush around his mouth. This makes Harry grin
and, of course, he purposefully takes his time sliding Louis’ jogging pants up his naked legs and
under the towel.

“I’m never washing those,” Louis says around the bubbling paste in his mouth.

A loud laugh, escapes Harry’s mouth, his lips wide in a huge smile. Louis is constantly taking him
by surprise and this statement is no exception.

“You’re disgusting,” tugging his shirt over his head, Harry then takes both hands to his wet curls
and gives them a quick tousle.

“Moi?” Louis puts a hand to his chest his toothbrush hanging haphazardly from his messy mouth.

This gets a quick roll of the eyes from Harry that Louis chooses to ignore. Instead he finishes with
his teeth and hands Harry his toothpaste.

“You can use your finger, or my toothbrush. Don’t want you calling me disgusting again.”

“Finger,” Harry grins and he knows it’s a little suggestive based on the thoughts that clamour at
him with the mention of fingers. He brushes quickly, doing his best to make it look kind of sexy,
but likely not coming close. Louis puts the toothpaste in his shower cady and hangs a fresh towel
on the hook.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing over there, you little slut,” the laugh Harry lets out at
this sends toothpaste all over the mirror and his cheeks pink.

“Lou, that’s rude!” Harry mumbles through toothpaste and giggles.

Louis just shakes his head, “alright finish up over there, or I’m never gonna make it to work on
time.”

Harry nods rinsing his mouth and collecting his clothes. He stands in the centre of the room staring
at Louis waiting for the other boy to see him to the door. Louis instead stands directly in front of
Harry.

“You ok if we say goodbye here?”

His expression is questioning and vulnerable, as is his stance. It’s somehow confident too and
Harry can’t pin down how he’s able to do that, look so exposed, yet confident. He’s in only a pair
of briefs and a t-shirt and Harry pictures what they would look like to a fly on the wall, the two of
them stood there staring at each other. He’s in Louis’ track pants, worn as low on his waist as
possible and they still come a little short on his long legs. His wet curls dripping on his shoulders.

“It might be more um… private,” Louis concludes his thought.

Harry swallows. Louis is going to kiss him. He can feel it in every fibre of his being. He’s been
imagining this moment for days. Wishing for it, but the pent-up expectation has him licking his lips
with a tongue that feels like sandpaper.

“Yeah. Here’s good,” he finally manages to spit out.

Louis looks to the floor quickly, his long lashes following and creating shadows on the skin below
them. Then he glances back to Harry, eyes scanning his face. He’s leaned in just a touch and Harry
can tell he’s thinking over something. Harry hopes it’s how best to kiss him and not whether, or not
he wants to kiss him. He waits. The moment feels like it’s in slow mo, like they’re trapped in a
romance movie. Harry’s holding his breath and slowly leaning towards Louis, as Louis does the
same. When they’re close enough that Harry thinks the kiss is the only thing that could possibly
happen next, he lets his lids flutter shut. But the kiss doesn’t come. He feels stupid, but he doesn’t
want to open his eyes in case his timing was just a little off, so he waits longer, eyes closed. He can
feel when Louis’ hair brushes his cheek and soft lips are placed just under his jaw bone. Louis
sucks the skin there for a moment making Harry fist his hands into tight balls. A light kiss to the
same area follows and Harry keeps his eyes closed a little longer before Louis breaks the silence,
his voice husky and barely audible.

“I’ll call you after work, if that’s ok?”

Harry’s lids pop open to catch Louis gazing at him. It’s a look that makes Harry blush and feel a
little better about his clearly awkward kiss-expectation then no-kiss-disappointed faces.

“You better,” he tries to sound cool and jokey, but doesn’t feel even a little of either.

They exit the bathroom together, Harry stuffing his toque on and slipping into his jacket. Louis
hands him a plastic shopping bag for his jeans and with one last smile opens the door for Harry to
step past. Harry tries his best not to look back. That’s the cool thing to do, right? Like not look
back? But inevitably he does. Louis is leaning in the door frame, all swagger, humour and sex, his
bottom half still clad only in tight black briefs. Harry can’t take how much he wants to rip those
briefs off him. With that thought and a shared wave between the two of them, Harry pushes
through the door into the stairwell.

Harry is on a Louis-high the whole walk back to his cabin. It’s definitely early. There are only a
few lone skiers on the hills and the sun, not fully risen, is giving off a greyish light. He does try to
sober his brain enough to consider how he’ll get in the cabin without waking his mum and
Gemma. Having them find him with a plastic bag housing his soiled jeans from the previous day,
(and very likely a neck full of hickeys) is less than appealing.

When he steps inside, he’s aware someone is sitting on the couch with a coffee and he ducks into
the room, hiding the bag behind him.

“Well, hello there,” Gemma is grinning from ear to ear.

“Hi,” he waves at her shyly. “Can I just?” He points to the stairs without having to finish his
question.

Gemma nods as she takes a long sip of her coffee.

Harry quickly rushes upstairs trying his best to be quiet. He tosses the bag on the floor at the end of
the bed and throws his jacket on top. Seeing his purple sweater thrown over the back of a chair by
the window, he grabs it and slips it over his head. He instantly feels cozy and tiptoes back down to
Gemma. She’s made him a coffee when he arrives, knowing exactly how he takes it.

“Ok I want all the details,” she passes him the warm cup and nestles back into the couch.

The smell of Harry’s coffee helps clear the Louis-fuzzies from his brain, as he breaths it in,
enjoying its richness before responding.

“There’s a lot to tell.”

“Ok well spill.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Did you kiss him?”

“No, but I thought we were gonna.”

“So, what happened?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Gemma ponders this while holding her coffee, as if she plans to drink from it, then changes her
mind.

“How did the rest of the date go? The lights and S'mores.

“Wow! That feels like years ago. Oh, wait!” Harry sets his drink down in fear of spilling it. “He
told me what the poem was about.”

Gemma sits forward, eyes huge, all of her attention focused on Harry. “And…”

“I’m gonna be terrible at explaining it. I’ll have to show you the poem,” he pulls his phone from
the pocket of Louis’ track pants. This draws Gemma’s attention.

“Um, Harry, those aren’t yours. Please tell me you didn’t…. like without kissing, That just seems
so…”

“Oh yuck. No, I mean. We didn’t um do that. Listen, I can’t explain that part, but it’s not like that.”

Harry looks to his phone and sees a notification from Louis. He can’t hide the smile that creeps
across his face. He enters his password faster than he thinks should be humanly possible to read the
awaiting text.

‘Come out tonight. You and your sore little bottom’

Harry almost forgot about his bruised bum with everything else that had happened. Apparently
though it’s still on Louis’ mind.

“He sent you something cute, didn’t he?” Harry grins to Gemma’s question and remembers why he
was looking at his phone in the first place. He needs a moment to think of what to text Louis back
anyway, so he Googles the poem and once it’s up he passes his phone to Gemma to read. He
watches as her eyebrows raise while she scrolls the screen.

“W-O-W,” she looks up stunned.

“Gem, you should have seen him when he told me what it meant. He said I was like a dappled
thing because I’m beautiful, but he said it a thousand times better than that.”

“Boys got moves that’s for sure.” Gemma is reading the poem over again in wonderment. “If he’s
being authentic, it sounds like he’s really into you. So, wait, you didn’t kiss after this?”

“Long story.”

“Oh!” Gemma’s eyes dart to Harry’s phone as a message pops up and quickly disappears. She
hands the device to Harry with her brows furrowed.

“What?” He’s startled by her change in expression and quickly navigates to the messages.

‘Don’t be mad.’ Is the first text quickly followed by, ‘Ugh this is hard thru text. I mean it’s not a
big deal, but you should know because I’d be mad if it was reversed.’

Harry waits as the three bubbles show Louis is still typing. It’s excruciating.

‘Dave booked me for a lesson this afternoon.’

He knows his face has dropped, his lips pouty and eyes locked laser-death-stare style on Louis’ last
message.

“Is it bad?” Gemma leans forward anxiously trying to see the message.

“I mean he’s not mine, or anything. I don’t have a claim to him.”

“Back-up. What’s he done?”

“Nothing. It’s not like that. It’s just… so there’s this guy and they used to hook-up. Liam brought
him over last night. That’s a long story too, but he said something weird to me when I was in the
shower today and now he’s booked a lesson with Louis later.”

“I’m gonna kill him!” Gemma puffs out her chest like she might possibly be able to take Dave out.

“Ok calm down. Like I said, he’s not my boyfriend. I have no reason to be mad.”

“Well, are you?”

“Of course, I am, but I don’t want Louis to know that, so help me think of something to write back
before he gets suspicious.”
Gemma rolls her eyes, but she considers what to write anyway, throwing out a few suggestions that
Harry shoots down immediately. His fingers linger over the keyboard, as he scrunches his nose in
contemplation.

“So, what are we doing today?”

“Mum wants to go skiing. She’s gone to breakfast with her new friends, but she’ll want to head out
when she gets back.”

“That could work,” he hums to himself.

“What are you on about?”

“Just a thought. Don’t worry about it.” Harry types out a quick message back to Louis.

‘Not mad. See you later.’ He adds a smiley to the end to make it more believable and sends it off.
The whole while Gemma stares at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Gonna get ready. Can’t wait to hit the hills,” he uncharacteristically smooshes her hair playfully,
so it gets all mussed up in front of her face.

“Heeeeey,” she whines from behind her brown locks, pushing them haphazardly out of the way and
tucking them behind her ears. Once she can see again, she gives Harry a mischievous look and
cheekily says, “might I suggest a turtleneck?”

**

Harry’s not a bad skier. He’s actually half way decent. Gemma too has managed to hold her own.
Because of this they’ve made it to the intermediate hills by the afternoon. Harry doesn’t even find
the lift that bad on skies. It still makes him a little nervous, but nothing compared to how he feels
on a snowboard and even then he’s gotten much better in his time at the resort.

Harry can actually say he’s having fun when Anne waves him over at the bottom of their most
recent run. Gemma’s not far behind. Fat, slow snow flakes are falling like feathers from the sky
and sticking to Harry’s eyelashes and mittens.

“What do you say we go in? Have a hot chocolate and warm up a bit.”

“Sure,” Harry agrees. He turns his head to look towards Gemma, who’s skiing over to them.
Something catches his eye on a hill just beyond the one they’ve just come down. He’s almost
certain he can see Louis gracefully cutting down the hill. He’d know that plump rear-end from a
mile away.

“Actually, would you mind, if I do one more and meet you there?”

Anne’s eyebrows pop and her eyes widen, but she won’t deter Harry from anything he wants to do,
especially when it’s something adventurous and slightly out of his comfort zone.

Gemma slides up between them.

“I’m heading for a hot chocolate and your brother is going to do another quick run. Would you like
to go with him and meet me after?”

“Are you nuts?” Gemma shakes the snow from her helmet. Harry watches over her shoulder as the
person he’s sure is Louis rounds to the bottom of the hill. “I’m not going down one more hill than I
have to. Hot chocolate it is!”

Anne looks a little nervous to send Harry off on his own. She has treated him like an adult since he
turned sixteen, so it’s not that, but the fear that he will manage to mangle himself in someway is
evident on her face.

“Have fun! I’ll be in in a few. Save me some marshmallows.” Harry waves and scoots off before
she can try to join him, peeking over his shoulder only once to make sure Anne and Gemma do in
fact go inside. Seeing them resting their skis against the wooden ski racks is enough of a
confirmation, that Harry turns and focuses on the snow in front of him, racing along as quickly as
possible without stepping over the backs of his skies as he pushes himself forward with one than
the other in a v-shape.

It must be sheer jealous adrenalin pushing him along because he gets to the lift to see Louis and
Dave only a few chairs up and the line is virtually empty. He slides in behind an elderly couple
who, if he had the time to focus on, are absolutely adorable. When it’s their turn to move up, they
notice Harry behind them and wave for him to join them. The couple separates as they ski to the
chair and Harry shoots up to the empty place between them, plopping his bum on the seat when it
arrives without a thought. His eyes are set in front of him trying to focus on Dave and Louis’ backs.
It’s hard to see much because of the other sets of people between them.

“Are you trying to catch up to your friends?” The woman asks. She’s quite beautiful. Her long grey
hair is pulled back in a low bun and she’s wearing one of those headbands he hasn’t seen since the
90s. It’s basically a knitted circle that fits around her head, but allows for her hair to be free under
her helmet. He guesses his staring is what prompted the question.

“Um yeah you could say that. I mean one of them is a friend, or a boyfriend, maybe. I don’t know
what he is.” Harry doesn't want to lie, but explaining what he and Louis actually are is too much to
even try to take on.

“That sounds confusing,” the man chimes in.

“It is,” Harry confirms.

“Care to chat about it?” The warm smile the man is sending him, makes Harry loosen up a little.
He rests back in the seat and begins to blabber on about Louis--how they met, the bet, the poem,
Dave, everything. He’s actually shocked that the ride takes as long as it does for him to cover that
much information, let alone the fact that it all comes spilling from his mouth.

The woman lifts the bar after nodding towards Harry and the man, he assumes is her husband.
Harry holds his breath. Usually, he finds getting on the lift worse, but because this snuck up on
him, he has an instant sense of dread. They however disembark smoothly, Harry in the centre of
the pair. He catches Louis’ eye over at the corner of the hill, as he explains something to Dave.

Harry’s happy that his new friends have him held up for a moment because it gives him time to try
to understand the absolute panic he sees run across Louis’ face.

“I think you boys are making things more complicated than they are. If you love one another, it
will all work out. Look at me and Libby here. Just found each other again after thirty years.”

Harry’s eyes pop, “Um Love is a strong word and wait that sounds like a better story than mine.
Why didn’t we talk about that?”

Libby touches Harry’s mittened hand, “Our problems are already sorted. It felt like you needed to
get something off your chest and now you have. Did it help?”

“It did, I think.” Harry can tell both his dimples are on display, but he still can’t fathom the
incredulous look Louis keeps shooting him.

“Perfect!” Libby smiles. “Now Fred and I need to get a few more of these Black Diamond’s in
before we hit up the hot tub, don’t we Fred?” Fred waggles his brows suggestively and Harry
laughs until it clicks in.

“Black Diamonds?”

“Mmmm huh. This is one of the toughest hills at the resort and our favourite.”

Harry swallows at the news and now gets why Louis is looking at him, as if he forgot to put on
pants or is missing his head.

With that Fred and Libby give a little wave, Libby mouths the words ‘Good Luck’ and the pair ski
off. Harry’s not sure what to do. He really hadn’t thought about what would happen if he caught up
to Louis and Dave, just that he needed to. Louis solves the question for him though because Harry
watches as the other boy indicates to Dave to wait where he is before skating over to Harry.

“Do you have an actual death wish, Harold,” Louis hisses when he gets to him. “This hill?! I mean
you’ve gotten better, but you’re not ready for this.” Louis is glancing around, eyes searching, as if
looking for a way to get Harry down the hill that doesn’t involve the skis on his feet.”

Harry can’t help the anger that flashes in him.

“I’m not a child! I can manage this on my own, thank you very much.”

“Ok put your ego aside for a minute and let me at least ride down with you. Dave can wait.”

“No. It’s fine. I’m a decent skier.”

“Decent. You better be stellar to make it down this slope. And please, if you insist on this
foolishness, stay to the right. The left is moguls.”

Harry nods, but doesn’t say anything, afraid he’ll lose his nerve. Instead, he gives Louis what he
hopes is a sure look before he skis over to the edge of the hill. The drop is literally almost straight
down. Louis wasn’t joking about how hard this would be. Harry swallows and tilts his skis
forward. His first two turns are embarrassingly wide and slow. “Ok,” he says to himself. “You can
do this. Let’s just tighten it up a little.” He gives his bum a wiggle in case Louis is watching, holds
his breath and brings his turn in tighter. Soon enough he is whipping down the hill, snow flying his
eyes, his legs bending and stretching with his turns. He’s doing good, great even and it’s thrilling.
And maybe, just maybe, he gets a little cocky, adding an extra bit of sazzle to the swing of his hips.
If Louis is watching, he wants this to look as good as it possibly can.

Eat my dust, Louis Tomlinson.

However, no amount of sazzle can help Harry when his ski catches in a rut in the snow left from a
previous skier and his leg gets thrown wide, shaking his balance. He’s barely halfway down the
hill. His gut sinks instantly knowing he can't right himself and within seconds he’s tumbling
somersault style down the hill. Both skis fly off in the process sliding off down the hill in front of
him and he lets go of his poles as well after flailing them in the air for two full rotations. By the
time he stops rolling, he’s three quarters of the way to the bottom. His heart is thumping in his
chest and he has no idea where his equipment is. He groans as he lays back on the snow and stares
at the sky. He realizes he has to get out of the way, so he’s not blocking other skier’s paths, but he
needs a moment to sort himself.

Of course, he doesn’t get that though because a spray of snow is shot just beyond him as Louis
comes to a frantic halt at his feet. He’s on the ground on his knees, his board still attached to him,
in seconds.

“Harry! Harry! Are you ok?” Louis is pawing at him with gloved hands, as if he can detect any
bumps, or bruises through touch alone.

“Yes, yeah. I think I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.”

“I can’t with you! That was so stupid,” Louis huffs angrily.

“I did ok there for a while. It was a dumb rut in the snow.”

“A rut, or you wiggling your arse at me?”

Harry can’t help, but grin.

Someone else is stopping by Louis. It’s Dave. He’s collected Harry’s poles.

“Here,” he says handing them to Harry. “His skis are a lost cause. They’ll be at the bottom of the
hill by now.”

“Thanks, Dave. Sorry about your session. I’ll have to make up the rest of it later, if that’s ok?
Harry here needs to go see the medic and seeing 'ow stubborn he can be, I’m gonna need to walk
'im there meself.”

“Sure, yeah. You can make it up to me.” Harry doesn’t like the way Dave lingers on the words,
like it’s more than snowboarding Louis is going to help him with.

“Ok, thanks. We can chat about it tonight?”

Tonight?!

Dave nods even though he has clearly lost Louis’ attention. He gives Harry a quick look while
Louis’ attention is diverted. One that says ‘keep your pretty face away from my man’. Well, Harry
adds the pretty face in there, but he’s sure that’s what Dave is thinking. And then he is off down
the hill.

“Alright, you. Ready to get up?”

Harry nods, his helmet hitting the snow behind him. Louis pushes up to his feet and steps out of his
board. He sets it off to the side and takes Harry’s poles sticking them by his board, but straight up
in the snow. Then he maneuvers himself so one leg is in the v of Harry’s legs and bending he
wraps his arms around Harry’s waist.

“Ok so lean on me, as you get up. Just in case.”

“I think this might be overkill.”

“Just humour me, Harold,” comes Louis muffled voice from around Harry’s middle.

So, with a sigh, Harry pushes up putting all his weight onto Louis as he does. Louis is strong, but
the awkward angle and the snowy hill are competing against him. It seems like he’s going to be
able to manage getting Harry to his feet even so, but in the end Harry’s extra inches in height prove
to be their downfall and the pair are tumbling together down the hill, Harry for a second time in ten
minutes. They don’t roll that far, but both are breathing heavy by the time they stop. Harry starts
laughing immediately and manically, his body shaking with it.

“Have you officially lost it over there?” Louis peeks up, concern etched on his features.

“I think I was supposed to warn you?” Harry stammers through his laughter.

“Warn me?”

“The last time you almost killed me you told me to warn you next time, but I forgot.” Harry is
cackling at this point.

“You’re an ass,” Louis huffs with a grin, as he collects some of the snow from beside his body and
tosses it in Harry’s direction.

“Hey, I’m not the one who thought it would be a good idea to somehow Superman pick me up on
the side of a ski hill.”

Louis is quiet for a second as he lets his head fall back on the snow. He lifts himself up to his
elbows finally and looks at Harry.

Harry is already focused on the other boy. His cheeks hurt from laughing and he can feel tears
glistening in his eyes while he waits to see what Louis is going to come back with.

What Louis actually says, though, floors him and Harry doesn’t know whether to laugh, or chuck
snow back at him for the simple statement.

“Nice turtleneck by the way.”

 Chapter 11
Chapter Summary

Thank you, thank you, thank you for waiting on this update. It's just been a very hectic
spring. Things should be good now though and the next chapter is already taking
shape in my head... So basically you shouldn't have to wait long for it. I appreciate you
taking the time to read my story and all the best ❤️

What had he been thinking! Louis still can’t believe it as he shakes his head and mutters to himself,
trudging up the hill to collect his board and Harry’s poles. He swears that the blundering, curly-
headed, sex god that currently resides in every corner of his brain will actually do him in one of
these days. Honestly, had Harry lost his mind. It’s the only explanation to why he dared attempt an
advanced slope on his own. Louis knows better though and the inkling of the idea that maybe, just
maybe, Harry was jealous is blooming like a mess of tulips right there just behind the front of his
skull. And yeah, so Louis feels his face expand into a sappy smile at the thought. Jealous Harry
might be something he would like to witness a tad more of, not in like an excessive way, but a little
bit of possessiveness always turns Louis on. It’s one of his toxic traits. But he can’t focus on that
because splattered, bloody and dented Harry on the side of a ski slope is not something Louis
wants to see. How’s he going to get it through Harry’s thick skull that he has nothing to worry
about? If anyone does, it’s clearly Louis. He’s the one who spilled his guts like an animal on one of
those wild outdoor shows, all red and gooey for Harry to cringe at. But Harry didn’t is the thing.

Louis finally reaches their stuff and steps into his board with Harry’s poles tight in his grasp. He
feels fine from the fall. Learning how to wipeout without hurting yourself was one of his very first
instructor’s favourite lessons. Through the people gliding out the end of their run (some less
expertly than others), he catches a glimpse of Harry at the bottom of the hill all gangly and
adorable, proudly holding his skies together and upright. He’s clearly happy to have located them.
The turtle neck, though. Where did he even manage to scrounge up a turtleneck? If the thought of
the marks that currently pepper Harry’s neck, just below the cotton, weren’t quite so vivid in
Louis’ mind, that turtleneck would have him doubled over in laughter.

Harry’s smile widens when he catches Louis looking and Louis thinks he might just die at the sight
of those dimples and his over-sized pearly whites. Louis wants to kiss him bad. So much so, that
the idea of literally licking Harry’s teeth feels intriguing. He should be repulsed by such a thought.
They’re teeth, meant for chewing food, not foreplay, but Louis can’t help imagine his tongue
roughly running over their enamel surface. That and mashing his lips hard into Harry’s. It’s like he
wants to devour the other boy and all his captivating quirkiness. Tender kisses be damned, Louis
wants to push and squeeze hard enough at Harry to literally sink into his skin and live there
forever. He’s officially over the moon, in the grossest way possible. This is, of course, why he
didn’t kiss Harry when he had the chance. He just barely survived the heavenly experience of
watching Harry come in his jeans, let alone witnessing him emerge from the shower all slick with
water. If Louis had kissed him, he wouldn’t have only lost the bet, he would also have been
incredibly late for work and (with Harry’s consent of course) had what he guesses would have been
very raucousy sex on the floor of his shared bathroom. That's not what he wants for his and Harry’s
first time together, or for Harry’s recently bruised bum.

He's lost in this thought, when a familiar hearty laugh sounds from behind him along with the
swoosh of snow being pushed by a snowboard.

“What happened to Dave? Wasn’t he your session now? And, how come your boyfriend is down
there looking at you all dopey eyed?” Niall’s grin is huge, his cheeks rosy and there’s mirth
shining from his blue eyes.

“He’s not mine, ya twat. He’s leaving soon, remember? And, the dopey look is probably a
concussion. He just took two giant wipeouts.”

The O shape that quickly darts across Niall’s face has Louis adding quickly, “I don’t actually think
he’s concussed, but I should get him to the medic’s office. Where’s your student?”

“Kid’s literally better than I am and he wanted to chat up some little lass on the lift, so I let him go
on ahead of me. Told him to meet me at the bottom of the hill.”

“Niall! What the fuck. You can’t do that? How old is this kid?”

“Like thirteen,” Niall shrugs.

“I swear. What are you all trying to do to me? Give me a heart attack?”

“Oh, look! There he is. And he’s getting her number. I’m not such a shit instructor after all. Better
get yer lover boy to the medic though, he’s one more swoon away from passing out.”

“Oh, fook off, Niall.”

With a quick lift of his eyebrows at Louis and a cheerful wave to Harry, Niall turns to head off in
the direction of the scrawny kid he’s just pointed to that, like Niall himself, seems to have more
confidence than he knows what to do with. A last-minute thought seems to pop into Niall’s head
just before he leaves as he glances over his shoulder at Louis.

“What’s up with the turtleneck? Haven’t seen one of those in years. Things get a bit vampirey in
yer room this mornin'? Why’m I even askin’ I heard it all.”

The snowball that Louis attempts to lob at Niall is ineffectual, not being packing snow, and ends up
blowing back at him like wedding rice at a newly married couple. He waves his hands around as if
that will stop the gust of white fluff from landing on him. No such luck of course and there are
water droplets clinging to his lashes when he opens his eyes from a quick blink.

When he looks to Harry again, the boy is giving him such huge heart eyes Louis' chest swells from
it. Wedding rice and heart eyes are all he needs to suddenly be picturing Harry in a tux with his hair
in long soft curls like he’d worn to their restaurant date. Or maybe a dress. Louis would definitely
like to see Harry in a dress.

Ok, Tomlinson, cut this shit out, or your sad little heart will be smaller than the Grinch's when this
kid leaves.

It’s with this thought that Louis makes his way back to Harry whose smile grows dopier the closer
Louis gets.

“Alright, come on you. To the medics. Are you leaving the skis here, or….?”

“Oh shoot. My mum and Gemma are waiting for me.”

“Where?” Louis looks around like they're watching from the side of the hill, or something.
“Just inside for hot chocolate.”

“Can you leave your stuff with theirs and I’ll text Gemma? It’s already been longer than I would
like since yur double topple.”

Harry follows Louis’ suggestion and is back just as Louis responds to Gemma’s concerned reply.
He went with humour at Harry's expense hoping to put her at ease. At the very least Gemma and
Anne know where Harry is. He knows if he was in their shoes, he'd be wondering.

“So, how’s Zayn?” Harry asks. Louis sets a light hand on Harry’s lower back to point him in the
direction they need to go. It feels easy even though his fingers linger longer than they should.

“He’s so Zayn it’s hard to tell, but he’s gotta be a right mess.”

Harry nods solemnly biting his lip while Louis summons the courage to ask, “so wot was that back
there?”

“What was what?”

Louis gestures to the hill. “Were you jealous?”

The way Harry’s shoulders hunch a little and he looks to his feet makes Louis feel instantly guilty
for asking, but he needs to set Harry straight.

“Because it’s fine if you were. I mean I can get a little jealous meself sometimes.” He chuckles at
moments where he wanted to wring Niall’s neck over his completely platonic friendship with
Harry. “I just want you to know you don’t have to be.”

“I don’t?” Harry’s voice is quiet.

“Nope.” Louis takes Harry’s mittened hand in his own.

Although the resort is full of noises, it’s quiet between them and Louis can sense Harry’s mulling
something over.

“What is it, Harold?”

“Um, I just…. I mean…. Well, you told Dave you would talk to him tonight.”

“I did. Because unfortunately Liam has him staying with us for a bit and I do owe 'im for the
session, but we won't be alone. Not that it would matter and the chat will be purely lesson related.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry’s cheeks are red and the sheepishness of his small smile makes Louis think it’s
not only the cold that has them that colour.

“Louis?” Harry’s voice is tentative.

“Yeah?”

“You know this morning?”

“Uh huh?” Louis can’t help the little half smirk that plays across his lips.

“I want to apologize.”

“Apologize? Why?” Any teasing is gone. It’s obvious Harry stills feels bad about their morning
activities and Louis never wants Harry to feel bad, especially when it involves the two of them
doing what they’d been doing earlier that day.

“I don’t want you to think that’s how I normally am. I mean I’m not selfish… in bed and the other
thing… I generally have more… um… stamina than that,” his voice goes slightly higher pitched at
the end of his sentence and it sounds like he’s asking a question even though he isn’t.

“Let’s get you to the doctor already; you must be concussed if you think any of that has even
entered my brain. You know wot got me through my lessons so far today? Remembering just how
delicious you looked this morning and how I made you look like that, so no more being
embarrassed, or trying to apologize please.”

Harry nods his acceptance and reaches up with his mittened hand to mess with his hair, but, of
course, he hits his helmet instead. In response, he closes his eyes for just a moment and Louis gets
the sense that he’d be hiding them behind his hands if he had the opportunity. Louis just shakes his
head. The silly boy just doesn’t get how wonderful he truly is and Louis is determined to make
sure that changes. It’s in this moment he knows he’s gonna let Harry win the bet. Not because he
needs to sleep with Harry that bad. He does, but that’s besides the point. He’s gonna let Harry win
because Harry needs this win. After what happened with Olly, Louis senses Harry’s taken a hit to
his self-esteem and even though he himself is not fussed by Harry’s eagerness earlier that day,
Harry certainly is. So, Louis’ heart be damned. He knows it already is anyway.

**

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur. They hadn’t been at the medics long when Louis realized his
next session was approaching in less time than he had to get across the resort to the meeting point.
He apologized to Harry profusely, which of course Harry immediately accepted and sent him on
his way, a dimpled smile tracing all of Louis’ steps out of the building. Aside from a few texts from
Harry assuring that he was, in fact, fine, they hadn’t chatted much since. Sitting cross-legged on
his bed, Louis finally has a moment to think. They haven’t agreed to any plans for the evening,
which has technically started based on the dark sky outside Louis’ window and he definitely wants
to see Harry. He’s not sure though with his new decision made, bet-wise, if it makes sense to invite
Harry over, or out to the bar; it’s too late for dinner plans and there’s nothing else that he can really
suggest at this point.

None of the roommates are home yet, either working dining room shifts, or evening lessons which
means he has no idea who might be staying in for the night. Dave has also made himself scarce,
thankfully, because that’s a situation Louis doesn’t want to deal with at all. His main concern
though is Zayn. Louis has a feeling Zayn won’t be in the mood for a night out. He hates the idea of
just the three of them being in the apartment later, what with his hopes that his and Harry’s
activities might get a little rowdy. So he’s no further ahead in the debate over what to do, when a
text pings through from Harry.

‘Hey! Can I come to the bar with you guys tonight? Mum and Gems are going to Karaoke’

Karaoke sounds right up Harry’s alley. Louis instantly feels bad that he’s the reason Harry is
passing up on the excursion.

‘Ur not gonna go? Sounds fun’

‘Nah I promised to go next time. All my mum’s new friends are going.’

‘Why do I feel like that makes it more of a tragedy? Your mum’s friends would swoon over you
singing.’
‘True. But the only one singing tonight is gonna be you and it’ll be my name over and over.’

‘HARRY!’

‘What?’

‘Honestly!’

‘See you in an hour? I’ll come to yours first.’

‘Yeah sounds good. Gives me time for a cold shower. Thanks for that btw’

Louis is still trying to figure out all the sides to Harry. How the cute, dimply, goofball is the same
as the immature, sassy, (and extremely) sexy lad who throws out dirty comments like this one, or
the budding man Louis can see underneath it all. The quiet, poetry loving, warm almost-twenty-
year-old that’s well beyond his peers in intellect and heart. They seem so different, the first all
blushes and big smiles, the second intense, shirts half done up, covered in tattoos and painted on
jeans that leave nothing to the imagination and the third... the third is someone Louis thinks he
could easily fall in love with, which is the scariest thing Louis has possibly ever thought.

Harry’s last message is a winky face. It makes Louis shake his head and grin before popping up off
the bed. He’s got an hour to make sure he looks smoking hot and to talk the other guys into going
to the bar. It’s a good thing Louis thrives under pressure. He quickly jumps in the shower because
he wasn’t joking about needing to cool down and also he wants to be ready for whatever might
happen later. When out, he throws on a grey tee and a pair of loose-ish fitting, dark blue, straight-
legs that he cuffs at the ankle. After drying his hair so his fringe is off to the side, he throws on a
grey beanie. He’s got twenty minutes before Harry is supposed to arrive when he stuffs his feet
into a pair of sneakers and shrugs on his black coat with the sherpa collar. Neither are warm
enough for the current temps, but he wants to look good tonight. Good for Harry.

He races out of the building and across the snowy path that eventually ends at the resort. Charging
through the back door to the kitchen, he doesn’t even bother to wipe off his slick shoes and is
sliding across the tiles almost crashing into a couple of his coworkers in his effort to find one of
the guys. It ends up being Zayn he spots first, carrying a giant tray loaded with plates on his
shoulder. Louis steps back as Zayn pushes through the swing door and turns to rest the tray at the
dishpit.

“Lou-eh, what are you doing here?” Zayn is more animated than Louis has seen him in a while.

“Hey, you up for the bar tonight?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll tell Li. We made up.” Zayn’s face lights up brighter than the Christmas
tree recently erected in the main lobby.

“Wot? Really?” Louis pulls Zayn in for a tight hug. “I’m the worst. I haven’t been around for you
ah-tall. Wot happened? You forgave 'im?”

A dark look flutters over Zayn’s features, “long story, but yeah, we um forgave each other.”

Louis cocks a brow.

“I’ll tell you about it, but not now. I’ve got tables waiting for me. You good to head to the bar
before us? Not sure when we’ll be off.”

“Yeah, definitely. What about Niall? Ed?”

“I’ll tell Ed. He’s out there,” Zayn gestures to the dining room “and Niall should be done teaching
soon. You know Dave’s gotta come too, right?”

“He’s still around?” Louis huffs.

“He’s been propping up the lounge bar all afternoon, but watch out, something about Harry has
him all competitive. He won’t shut up about what happened earlier.”

Louis shrugs tiredly and rolls his eyes to the side, “the shite never ends does it?”

Zayn pats Louis’ shoulder after tossing the cutlery piled on his tray in a plastic tub of soapy water,
“Ok I really have to get back to my tables. See you later.”

“Yeah. Ok. Later.”

Louis feels better knowing the boys are coming out. He’s not sure why it matters, or why he didn’t
just tell Harry they hadn’t made plans yet, but when he got the text all he could think was get it
done, Tomlinson. He heads back home pondering this and is surprised when he steps from the
stairwell to find Harry standing at his door. Harry’s chewing on his lower lip, until he turns and
sees Louis. Then he breaks out in a grin so huge, it feels like the hideous fluorescent lighting
somehow reflects it by getting softer, more ambient. Louis knows it’s in his head, but he can’t help
thinking mushy thoughts like this in Harry’s presence.

“Hey.”

“Hey back.”

“You been waiting long?”

“No not really,” Harry’s fully lying. Louis can tell. He took longer than he’d planned to when he
dashed out to the main building.

“Oh, no? Well, I’m sorry even so. Just had something quick to do. You want to go in, or just head
to the bar?”

Harry seems to ponder it for a sec before deciding, “maybe the bar. Is that ok?”

Louis feels his shoulders drop. They’d been at his ears a moment before. He’s not ready to be alone
with Harry yet. He’s ready, but he wants it to be right and having his roommates barging in is as far
from right as possible. He’s stunned by just how important this all seems. He didn’t put this much
thought into his actual first time, or any of the numerous times after, but there’s something
different about Harry and it’s messing with Louis’ brain.

Their walk to the bar is much more awkward than their usual interactions, predominately made up
of goofy looks at their feet when either catches the other’s eye. Louis feels giddy and ridiculous at
the same time. When they get to the bar, he pulls the door open and lets Harry go in first. Harry’s
body stiffening barely moments after stepping inside, should signal warning bells, but Louis is
somewhere else entirely. And, if somewhere else is imagining Harry naked and writhing away due
to some skillful use of Louis’ tongue, no one needs to know, but Louis.

The quiet groan and set of Harry’s jaw, do catch Louis’ attention and he looks to where Harry’s
gaze has landed—Dave. Alone in a booth, three beers at the ready.

Did Zayn tell him? is he on the Liam/Dave dark side now? And who are those beers for?
Louis has a sinking suspicion, but it just doesn’t make sense. His quick glance around the bar tells
a different story, though, because of the ten other patrons, none of them are anyone Dave knows.
And then Dave is staring right at them and waving his arm for the pair to join him. Louis nods and
turns his back, helping Harry shrug out of his jacket. Over his shoulder he whispers, “are you ok to
sit with him? I feel like a dick ignoring him entirely, but I can make something up and we can bail,
if you want.”

Their faces are so close they could be kissing when Harry turns his head to answer. Louis wishes
they were kissing. His lips twitch at the thought.

“It’s fine.”

It’s fine? Like it’s really fine, or is that the kind of ‘it’s fine’ that means it most definitely isn’t?
Fook, why is this so confusing!?

Harry’s features aren’t giving anything away and Louis wants to ask, but he doesn’t get a chance
because Dave is approaching them.

“Hello, boys! Bought us a round.” Dave claps his hand on both Louis and Harry’s shoulders and
leads them to the table as soon as they’ve hung their jackets on the wall hooks. It’s contrived and
awkward, reminding Louis of an overly friendly teacher he had in one of his last years of school.

Dave somehow manages to get them sat on opposite sides of the booth with him in the chair
between them. Harry’s face is Bambi like, concern etched across his forehead, eyes a little glazed.
His shirt causes a momentary distraction for Louis, a loose flowing white long sleeve tee that hugs
every curve of his body and makes the inside of Louis’ mouth moist. Louis licks his lips in
response and adjusts his body on the cushion by lifting himself up and plopping down again.
Harry’s eyes track the movement and the right corner of his lips turns up slightly.

“So,” Dave says breaking the moment. “I hear you work in a bookstore.”

“Um, yup. I do.”

“What’s that like?”

Harry glances at Louis, who lifts his shoulders as if to say your guess is as good as mine. Dave was
never this interested in anything Louis had to say.

“It’s good. I get to read a lot, which is cool and we hold a bunch of different events. Those are
always fun.”

“Yeah? What’s your favourite book?”

“Oh. Um. That’s hard. I don’t think I could pick just one. I love Great Expectations and Watership
Down and anything Jane Austen, of course.”

“Of course,” Dave mocks, but Harry doesn’t seem to hear him. His whole face is alive when he
talks about books.

“But I guess if I had to choose, it’d be this book of poems I have.”

“Now you sound like Louis. Doling out poems to all the boys.”

Harry’s eyes dart to Louis. They’re squinted a little as if trying to read Louis’ very soul itself. Louis
shakes his head no and that seems like enough because Harry’s features instantly relax.
“He is definitely eloquent. It took me a bit by surprise.”

“Yes, he is,” Dave states with a tone and glance at Louis that are meant to imply something
lascivious, but it’s of no use, Louis couldn’t unlock himself from Harry’s gaze right then even with
the strongest pair of pliers. He’s actually concerned by the sudden amount of sexual tension
streaming at him over the table. If Dave’s not careful a gust of it might knock him off his high stool
on its way from Harry to Louis.

“Lads! Shove over, will ya.” Niall’s there breaking the spell, pushing himself into the booth and
Harry along with him. The amusing thing is, he doesn’t stop once in, but continues to the middle of
the circular shape, so Harry is flush up beside Louis’ body. They look to each other and Louis is
scared Harry might take a bite out of him right then and there. Niall is happily babbling about
something and who cares what Dave is doing. Louis sure doesn’t. He takes a sip out of the warm
pint in front of him.

“Louis, are you hearing me? This kid is amazing. Kickass snowboarder and he managed to get
himself a girlfriend in like twenty minutes. How many years has it taken me since I’ve managed to
score a good lady?”

“Too long, buddy,” Louis commiserates, reaching over Harry to pat Niall on the shoulder, leaving
his arm slung around Harry afterward. It’s a little weird, but not too bad since most of Harry’s
height is in his legs.

Harry’s legs.

Louis wills himself to not get hard at the thought.

Harry rests his hand on Louis’ thigh. It’s warm and shockingly covers a good portion of Louis’
upper leg.

Harry’s legs and big hands.

Louis’ mind is swirling with thoughts. None of them good for his current situation. Harry’s thumb
slowly trails the area just above Louis’ knee to the inside of his leg. Louis swallows and straightens
slightly at the touch.

“Think we can wrangle some shots again?” Niall asks Harry, the last sips of his beer waiting
expectantly in a pool in the bottom of his glass that’s just inches from his mouth.

“Sure, we can.” Harry gives Louis’ thigh one last squeeze then scoots out of the booth behind
Niall. Without meaning to, Louis lets out a whimsical sigh. He was so comfortable with Harry
squished up on him, his firm grip on Louis’ thigh.

“You’ve barely touched your beer.”

The words are startling and Louis looks to Dave absentmindedly, only catching that he has stepped
down from his stool as he’s shuffling his bum across the booth seat. He’s next to Louis in
moments, but acting completely casual about it and Louis doesn’t know what to do. Should he get
up and walk to the bar, or ask Dave to move? He’s never been this indecisive in his life because
normally he tends to only think about what he wants. Currently, though, his main goal is to keep
Dave from causing a scene. He doesn’t want anything to ruin Harry’s night. There’s been too much
of that already in the short time he’s known him. His inability to think straight is debilitating and
instead of fighting it he just sits where he is and sips his beer.

Dave is prattling on, but Louis hasn’t heard a word, he’s too focused on how he's sitting
awkwardly on the edge of the booth. His rather large bottom is barely clinging to the faux leather
cushion and Dave keeps squishing over every time he does. He can see Harry’s hard stare when he
ventures to look. The line of it follows just past Louis, thankfully because he thinks he would
wither under that glare. How Dave can’t feel the heat from it is astounding.

Harry’s eyes are on them the whole time he and Niall are at the bar. When they come back, trays
packed with drinks, way too many for the four of them, they unload everything onto the table and
Niall sends a tentative look at his obviously jealous companion.

“Pass me yur tray, will ya.”

Harry hands it over without turning his head even a touch. His gaze is fixed on Dave. Without a
word he rests a hand on Louis’ knee. Just for a moment, as if to mark what’s his. Then he climbs
up onto the chair Dave had been sitting on.

Dave looks pleased with himself. Louis can only tell from a quick side glance, worried anything
more will start a full-fledged fight. Usually, he’s one to egg on a little jealous behaviour. Getting a
thrill from a partner’s jealousy is his toxic trait after all. Plus, he’s generally an all-around flirt,
known to sit on his fair share of laps and enjoy a friendly cuddle when it comes his way. Not now
though. Now is definitely not the time what with Dave on one side of him all cocky bravdo as he
chugs the rest of his beer, while an awkwardly charged stillness comes from Harry’s direction.

Niall is back and plops down on the opposite side of the booth assessing the situation. He begins to
hand out drinks.

“Louis,” he asks tentatively. “How’d yer afternoon sessions go?”

This is normally a fairly common and safe question among Louis and his roommates. Giving
snowboarding lessons means meeting all kinds of students from grown-ups to children. Niall loves
to hear the stories of the old women that hit on Louis and Louis loves when one of the other boys
gets a particularly trying kid. A massive tantrum mid-hill is always amusing if it isn’t you who has
to deal with it. Tonight, though, again, is not the night for this conversation.

“Yeah, any more casualties to the hill?” Dave pipes in, his tone mocking.

Harry clears his throat.

“Um no. The afternoon was pretty quiet,” Louis manages to answer and takes a large glug of beer.
Harry nudges his head close to Louis’ ear, soft strands of curls tickling Louis’ face and whispers,
“not like later tonight I hope.”

Beer splutters from Louis’ lips like a sprinkler. He’s too embarrassed to look at what the others are
doing, so he focuses on the table in front of him and Harry’s words bouncing around in his skull.

“Shots?” Niall asks the table.

And thank gawd for Niall. He’s a good friend.

They’re moving around the glasses on the table, setting aside shots and drinks for Zayn, Liam and
Ed, when the three of them walk through the door.

“Perfect timing!” Niall shouts across the room.

In the clamour of getting everyone around the booth, Harry manages to finagle his way back in
beside Louis. There’s cheersing and downing of shots before everything settles into the usual
banter that accompanies pub night. Liam and Zayn are miraculously distracting Dave and Ed is
wrapped up in one of Niall’s outlandish stories, leaving Harry and Louis in their own little bubble.

“That got scary there for a moment.”

“What did?”

“Jealous Harry.” Louis flicks at Harry’s chest teasingly.

“I just… I mean…”

“S’okay. Am flattered.”

Harry takes a sip of the drink in front of him. Something dark in a short glass. Whiskey maybe
Louis guesses.

“Onto the hard stuff?”

“Liquid courage.” Harry tilts his glass towards Louis with a little sideways grin.

“Why would you need that? I saw you catapult yourself down the side of a mountain this morning.
Courage is not something you’re lacking.”

Harry glances around the table then looks back to Louis secretively, his wild lion hair begging to
be touched. His eyes dart to the table, but he’s smiling, the dimple that Louis can see creating a
crevice in Harry’s porcelain cheek. Louis wants to poke it.

“Sometimes I… um have an issue… initiating things,” his last words are pushed out in a quick
whisper. “I dunno I guess I was away the day they taught that in school. A couple drinks helps.”

“Well, as long as the person you’re trying to initiate with is me, you’re good. Loud mouth,
remember? I’ve got us covered.” Louis hooks his foot around Harry’s ankle in a way he hopes is
comforting. Harry’s answering smile seems like proof that he’s succeeded.

“Can I ask one more question?”

Harry nods expectantly.

“If we’re both thinking about being somewhere else, why are we here right now?”

“Beats me.”

Of course, it’s at this moment, just before Louis goes to push Harry out of the booth, that Niall
chooses to rope him into his conversation with Ed. He’s not even sure what they were talking
about, or what Niall just asked him, so he hopes his confused, “definitely definitely” is the correct
response.

Harry’s lean fingers have once again found their way to Louis’ thigh and it takes all of Louis’
concentration to catch even a fifth of the conversation happening around him. There’s no way he
and Harry can sneak out now, the boys seemingly working together to loop one or the other into the
topic at hand every time the coast looks clear.

Eventually the chat turns to Louis and Harry’s bet, something Louis would prefer was not brought
to Dave’s attention, but it’s too late for that. And as Zayn jokes that he is certain Harry will win,
evoking a happy giggle from the man himself, Louis finally understands what’s happening. Zayn
and Niall are still trying to make sure Harry wins the bet (which so is Louis at this point), but they
don’t know that. They’ve been cock blocking Louis on purpose, but why? If they want to win, they
should also want Louis to succumb to the beautiful boy beside him. Louis glances at Harry at the
thought. And, that’s why. Harry has his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, his cheeks are flushed
and his eyes look glassy again, but different than earlier. So, they’re scared Louis will win. How
does he let them know that’s all out the window without tipping off Liam? Whatever’s been up
with Li has clearly been dealt with (like Zayn said) because he’s been his usual sweetheart self all
night. That doesn’t mean Louis wants to chance a reoccurrence of his recent behaviour and, even
though he hates to admit it, for whatever reason Harry seems to be trigger for moody Liam.

Rapt only barely describes the enthusiasm Dave is showing for the current topic, smile huge, eyes
eager. Louis can’t help, but notice and isn’t shocked at his glib comment that comes out the
moment he has a chance to speak.

“So, wait you two are trying NOT to fuck?”

Louis grabs the drink in front of him. It’s a pinky-orange colour and has yet been claimed by
anyone else. The look of it is deceiving. He expected something sugary and is met with almost
pure tequila as he tips his head back and drains it down his throat. The table is uncommonly quiet
when he sets the drink down, coughing slightly at the burn radiating all the way to his chest. He
looks straight at Dave, gives his very best Louis smile and says, “not any more. Come on, Harold.”
He manages to push Harry out of the booth, then grabbing his hand he pulls him towards the door.
He did, however, get the chance to witness a table full of stunned expressions, Dave’s the most
enjoyable, twisted in annoyance, before walking away. Niall’s celebratory hoots of joy follow.
Behind them everything has erupted in noise. Louis peeks back to see Liam laughing at Niall and
Zayn who are goading him about their prize. In doing so, he’s also met with Harry’s beautiful face.
His smile is soft and so are the edges of his eyes. His dark hair is a wild mess in the loops of green
fabric wrapped around his head. Louis can almost feel his heart stutter. He’s a work of art, or some
kind of mythical creature Louis has never heard of. Either way it’s taking every last ounce of will
power for Louis to not beg Harry for sex right then and there, in the middle of the bar in front of all
these people. Louis hasn't had sex in public before, but he can’t lie that the idea of people watching
him and Harry (imaginary people in his head) turns him on even more.

Somehow, he makes it out of the bar. The cold helping with the situation in his pants.

“Let’s go to mine,” Harry grabs Louis’ bent arm and leads him in the opposite direction than the
one Louis had started to walk in. “Mum and Gemma will be out late…. and we have a fireplace.”

“Sex in front of fireplace. How very romantic of you, Harold.”

“So, you were serious about that? Are you saying I won?”

“Would that make you happy?”

“I mean yeah, if it’s what you want.”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Not to me it isn't.”

“And, I thought I was making it pretty clear. Here it is then, so there's no more confusion. Harry, I
want you. So much. I literally feel like touching every single part of you whenever you're
anywhere near me. And that's the tame version. The idea of us... well it's overwhelming, but in a
really good way.”
“Then why didn't you kiss me? In the washroom. Or the other times.”

“Because I figured once I started I wouldn't stop. I mean with your permission, of course.”

Everything is silent and heavy and neither of them is doing a very good job of making eye contact.
There’s also lot of grinning and blushing happening between the both of them. Meaningful glances
being shared that scream to Louis, ‘now’s the time! Kiss him!’ But it’s cold out and Louis can feel
his stuffy nose ready to run at not even a moment’s notice. No, he needs a Kleenex before any
kissing can happen and some privacy with said Kleenex if he wants any future kisses to happen.

He grabs Harry’s mittened hand, startling him and drags him to the snowy path that will eventually
end up at the resort cabins. They’re quiet again. Louis is walking fast and even though Harry has
those long legs he’s struggling a bit with his breathing.

“Need me to slow down?” Louis looks over his shoulder to check on Harry’s face.

“Nope. Just the cold air and my asthma. I’ll be good when we get inside.”

So, they trek on, Harry’s huffed breaths keeping time with Louis’ footfalls. It’s oddly intimate.
There’s the odd smattering of people around. Not many, with most activities over for the evening,
but some of the fire pits are still lit with couples and families cozied around them. Otherwise, it’s
them and the darkness. Louis’ thumping heart and runny nose the perfect accompaniment for
Harry’s slightly laboured breathing.

When they get to the cabin, Harry makes a bit of a show unlocking it, as if to prove his family
really isn't home. Louis wants to pinch his cheeks, but he has more important matters at hand.

“Do you mind if I?” he gestures towards the washroom after kicking out of his shoes. He knows
his way around these cabins.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

Louis is efficient once alone in front of the mirror. Managing a quick nose blow, hand wash and
adjustment to his fringe before he’s back out in the hallway. He doesn’t want Harry to think he’s
pooping, or anything. To say he is stunned, then, by the sudden change in atmosphere, is so much
more than an understatement.

In the time he was gone, Harry got the fireplace going, lowered the lights and decorated what feels
like half the room with lit candles (it’s actually like ten or so jarred candles, but still did he bring
those with him, or buy them specifically for this moment). Louis wants to laugh so hard. It’s
fucking adorable and so is Harry running to meet him with a pair of giant woolly reading socks in
hand. He’s wearing a pair as well. The expensive kind you buy in gift shops, or at the bookstore.

“These are for you.” Harry pushes the socks to him green eyes sparkling. “Do you like it? It’s a
date, or whatever.”

“I luv it. But when did you? Or um… It’s amazing! Elaborate...”

Harry’s face falls a little and he stutters over his quiet words, “too much? It’s just the poem and the
romcoms and all. I thought maybe you were a bit of a romantic… like me…”

Harry looks sad and a little defeated. Louis can’t handle that. Even though he’s slightly shorter, he
has to nudge Harry’s chin up with his finger, so their eyes meet. There’s no second guessing now.
Raising slightly on his tiptoes, he leans in watching Harry’s eyes flutter shut before he closes his
own. Harry’s lips are cold and soft when they touch Louis’. There’s no hesitation as they part and
Harry’s tongue lightly feels into Louis’ mouth. It’s cool too and tastes like candy, or fruit and
sugar at the very least. Louis doesn’t want to think about what he tastes like right now. Warm beer
most likely. At least he avoided having a cigarette since he last brushed his teeth. Then his brain
goes cloudy because Harry is nibbling on his lower lip and he is certain all the blood in his body is
now in his dick.

“Couch now,” Louis commands then remembers himself and the effort Harry went to to make this
moment romantic. “Couch now, please. If you, you know, want to do more of this.” Louis gestures
from himself to Harry and back again and is taken by surprise when Harry ducks down, grabs the
back of both of his thighs and hefts him up, so Louis has to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck and
his legs around his middle. He had a feeling Harry was strong, but not this strong. He literally
walks the pair of them to the couch like it’s a non-issue and tosses Louis down with ease. He’s
wearing an absolutely filthy grin, as he boxes Louis in under his raised body.

“Do you want to do more of this?”

Louis doesn’t answer he just grabs at Harry’s loose tunic and pulls him flush to his own body.
Harry’s angelic face is mere inches from his and it takes him a moment to gather his words. He
feels like he’s swimming in those expansive green eyes and his chest stills at the sight of Harry’s
plump pink lips, the left side corner of the bottom one locked between Harry’s teeth in a look of
consternation.

“Honestly? I never want to not be doing this. Ever again. Let’s just do this from now on. I don’t
know how I’ve gone through so much of my life not doing this with you.” And Louis truthfully
doesn’t.

Harry cackles and it reverberates through Louis’ body, “Ok deal. This and only this moving
forward.”

And they’re kissing again. Louis is thankful for it. One because he really likes kissing Harry and
two because a moment later and he would have had the chance to say the word that so badly
wanted to escape his lips after Harry’s statement. Instead, it lingers around the edges of every kiss.

Always.

It's in this moment that Louis realizes, with Harry’s tongue seamlessly choreographing its
movements based on Louis’ and the wise words of Bella Swan ringing in his ears (paraphrased, but
still terribly accurate), he is most assuredly, unconditionally and irrevocably fucked for this boy.
 Chapter 12
Chapter Summary

Hi all - hope everyone is well and you're enjoying my story :)

Fair warning there's smut ahead, so if that's not your thing skip this chapter.

As always feel free to leave feedback. I love to hear your thoughts.

Staggered breaths fill the air. Most of them being Harry’s makes him wonder if he should have
given his puffer a quick go before this make-out session with Louis. Their lips haven’t stopped for
what feels like at least a half hour / no time at all / the most enjoyable eternity ever. The fact that
he’s having trouble breathing isn’t lost on him, but it’s more of a nagging sensation than a concrete
issue he needs to address. But honestly, how could his current lack of air contend with Louis’
skillful tongue as it traces Harry’s with a determined sense of discovery.

It’s easy to respond to Louis’ movements; there’s no thought involved. Harry’s tongue pivots to
Louis’ leisurely yet eager kisses and his hips grind in slow circles between Louis’ legs. The feel of
Louis’ growing hard-on driving the smooth rotations. His breath catches once again as Louis
sneaks his hand under Harry’s shirt and slowly glides his fingers up the sides of Harry’s torso and
over his ribs. He thumbs across Harry’s nipple with the faintest of touches. Harry can’t help the
gasp of a moan that escapes him, or the movement of his hips that he pushes harder into Louis in
response. Louis’ hands are quick, circling around to Harry’s back and tugging at the hem of his
shirt. Somehow, they still haven’t stopped kissing as Louis pushes the fabric up to Harry’s
shoulders. His head and arms are an issue though and Louis breaks his lips free for a moment, eyes
caught on Harry’s face, voice low, to simply say, “shirt.”

“Mmmmm, you too,” Harry hums, awkwardly getting to his knees and scrabbling his cotton long-
sleeve the rest of the way off.

Louis follows suit and Harry can’t get enough of the golden, tattooed, divine creature sprawled on
his couch. Although his current position is anything but comfortable, knees digging into the
overstuffed cushions beneath him, he could sit here looking down at Louis all night. “Okay,
seriously, do you go tanning? It’s winter. I’m practically translucent and you look like some kind of
Greek god.”

“This coming from the statue of David himself. The Donatello one. He’s prettier than
Michelangelo’s beefcake. Although, I’m sure you’re better hung on both accounts, if feel counts
for anything.”

Harry grins wickedly and accentuates the outline of his hard dick with his palm and fingers spread
long on his jeans beside it, “If memory serves, yeah you’re definitely right.”

“Probably not a fair comparison for the poor Davids.”

“What you want me to be flaccid?” Harry looks down at his jeans in utter confusion.

Louis chuckles shaking his head, “no, I dunno… This is proper cheesy, but you’re more of a work
of art than either in my opinion.”

“Ok smooth talker. I officially need my inhaler after that one,” Harry climbs off Louis and just in
time because he was finding it difficult being so close, locked in Louis’ gaze, but not being able to
divert his eyes away, like watching a car crash, but one staring right back at him. He shakes his
head trying to clear the image seared onto his retinas of the look Louis just gave him—head tilted,
eyes glittering, bottom lip caught in his teeth for just a moment.

Too much!

Harry feels like he’s managed to play it as cool as can be expected given the circumstances, but it’s
with effort that he locates his inhaler and navigates how to correctly use it, even though he’s had
years and years of practice. Louis looks practically feral when Harry chances a glance at him over
the blue plastic and metal device while he sucks in his second spray. It takes a dumbfounded
moment for Harry to contemplate this sudden change in expression.

The inhaler. And OHHHhhhhhhhh…… So, Louis is thinking of more than just kissing, apparently?

The realization sends Harry into high-gear, almost tripping twice as he speedily makes his way
back to the couch where Louis equally as quickly pulls him on top of him. They both go in for a
kiss at the same time and nearly bash their teeth together in the process. Harry giggles while Louis
takes his right hand behind Harry’s head and leads him into a proper snog. One that makes Harry’s
stomach flip and his dick twitch. Wanting takes over every cell, neuron, muscle, blood vessel and
all the other parts that make up Harry’s body.

Want Louis. Want Louis. Want Louis.

It’s like a mantra that keeps circling from Harry’s toes to the tip of his head and everywhere in
between as they grind, touch and suck giant love bites into each other. Finally, Harry’s fingering
the button on Louis’ jeans.

“This okay?” he asks in a whisper against Louis’ lips.

Louis nods catching Harry in a kiss as he does. Louis’ button pops and his zipper zips and Harry is
a little surprised it's his clumsy fingers making it happen. He’s so excited his insides feel like
they’re about to splatter all over the walls in yearning. And of course, because luck is apparently
enjoying a large joke at their expense, not for the first time either, the front door knob jiggles. The
couch faces the opposite direction to the front door, the back of it running lengthwise to the main
entrance way. It, however, offers little in terms of shielding their location. Nope. There's no hope
that they won't be seen. In fact, whoever is about to enter is getting a relatively unobstructed view
of the current proceedings.

Harry’s frozen over Louis in a cross between a plank and an upward facing dog, staring at the door.
It swings in and with it stumbles Gemma, Anne on her heels. Anne’s talking before she’s even
looked up from hanging her coat on the closet door handle.

“Fuck,” Louis utters, so quiet Harry knows he wasn’t meant to hear it, but how could he not? Their
faces are barely an inch apart.

“You’d think the two of you had never been around alcohol before. What are you like when I’m
not around, I wonder?”

“Hellllllloooooooo!” Gemma cackles in a fit of giggles. Anne may not have noticed them yet, but
Gemma’s glassy eyes are set on the pair and full of mischief. She tugs off her coat and lets it fall to
the ground, “Harry and Louis sitting on a couch K-I-S-S-I… it doesn’t work. How come it doesn’t
work?”

“Tree, darling. Tree,” Anne shimmies out of her boots once she’s picked up Gemma’s coat and
secured her in a seated position on the stairs. Gemma continues to giggle and smile huge at Harry
and Louis.

Shock is an understatement for what Harry feels. He’s not moving, waiting for his mother to finally
look up at them.

“Oh, the candles. It’s lovely in here, Harry. Oh! Oh…..” And with his mum’s eyes now on them,
Harry’s face falls to Louis’ chest in complete and utter humiliation. Louis’ head is angled up, his
neck craned, a little smile on his face. He seems to be taking the intrusion well, so far. Just the
glance Harry caught of his mum tells him all he needs to know. She’s teetering between awkward
and unsure what to do and breaking into giggles worse than Gemma’s (hers not alcohol related
though). The second seems as if it might win out based on the way her cheeks were puffed out as
Harry hid his face in Louis. He’d crawl inside Louis right about now, if he could. And even in his
current mortification, he takes a second to sniff at Louis’ skin. Lavender and something just Louis.
It’s homey and warm.

“Looks like you two have been busy,” Gemma’s voice breaks the momentary silence, her face
propped in her hands and elbows resting on her knees. “Oh, my gawd! Louis! Do you loooove it?!”

KILL ME NOW! Is Louis giggling? Is he fucking giggling too?

“I helped him buy all this, you know? He took forever!” Gemma jumps up as best she can on
wobbly legs and evades Anne’s quick move to catch her. She makes her way to the far end of the
couch by Louis and Harry’s feet with interest clear on her face. “You don’t have the socks on,” she
pouts at Louis. Harry lifts and twists his head to catch her dainty and simply manicured hands as
they reach out to Louis’ feet and begin to tickle from his arches to his toes, “Ugh your feet are so
cute.”

This comment does it for Anne and she’s cackling from behind Gemma where she’s been trying to
lightly tug her daughter away from the boys. Her body is bent over and shaking as she wipes tears
from her eyes. All the while, Louis is wriggling under Harry and letting out puffs of laughter of his
own.

“Gemma that tickles,” he manages to shakily get out.

“Ok, Hun,” Anne finally comes to the rescue collecting Gemma’s hands in her own. “Didn’t you
want a snack and water to take up to bed?”

Anne mouths the word sorry to Harry. He’s still awkwardly twisted to get a visual of her and
Gemma, but unable to move off Louis without everyone seeing that Louis’ jeans are undone.

THAT CANNOT HAPPEN! Gemma will never let him live this down if she remembers. And Anne,
he’s not even going to think about his poor mum seeing his sort-of-boyfriend half out of his
trousers.

“What about the hot chocolate? Did you have any? You two would look soooooo cute sipping hot
chocolate in front of the fire,” Gemma croons as she rummages through the fridge. “I told Harry
not to get the whip, it’s bloating, but he was adamant about it.” Gemma emerges in the yellow light
from the appliance holding a red and white can of whip cream, her brows furrowed as she inspects
the unopened lid.
The clap of laughter that comes from Louis is like an eruption and Harry wants to smother himself
with a pillow rather than be in his current situation a moment longer. Instead, he lets his head fall
once again on the other boy’s slightly sweaty chest. He’s embarrassed, yes, but it’s also a chance to
be closer to Louis, which is altogether too appealing. Thank gawd he’s a good sport. Fucking
Gemma and the fucking whip cream! Last time I try to work food into sex…. Who'm I kidding,
though? It’s not. Food’s good. Sex is good. It’s inevitable.

Anne manages to get Gemma seated at the small table and begins to pull items from the fridge,
“I’m making veggie sandwiches. You boys want one?”

Harry looks to Louis because it would be rude to answer for him. His blue eyes are glistening with
laughter and crinkled at the edges, “no thanks, Anne. We’re good, but I might need that technique
for cutting tomatoes sometime. I’m ‘orrible at it. All the seeds and stuff fall out and I’m left with
only a few random strips.”

Anne smiles as she continues to slice the fruit, “Harry’s a good cook. Did you know that?”

“You are?” Louis looks at him with fond intrigue, his eyebrows raised. Harry can’t remember if
they discussed it previously, so he smiles sheepishly and says, “yeah, I mean I can hold my own. I
prefer baking, but I try to eat healthy and that means some cooking.”

“Ok dear, girl!” Anne says moments later (moments Harry took to let the blush in his face go
down and his breathing settle, unsuccessfully, of course due to Louis casually running his fingers
over the skin on Harry’s sides at the same time). Anne’s soothing tone rouses Gemma who had
been suspiciously quiet, almost snoozing with her elbow on the table, her head resting on her hand,
“Sandwiches and water. We’ll go enjoy them in my room, shall we?” With her hands full she does
her best to help a less than sure footed Gemma to the stairs. “And boys don’t forget to blow these
candles out when you come up. Safety first and all,” she winks at Harry over her shoulder to ensure
he’s caught her real meaning (as in no glove no love) and although he adores her for being the
coolest mother ever, he would very much like to chuck a pillow at her right now.

“Yes, mother. Got it covered. I mean we will have… I mean… oh gawd.”

Anne’s responding chuckle seems to float down the stairwell behind her.

“Did your mum just…? Like she’s ok if we…?”

“Were adults, Louis, and she knows I’m not a virgin. We’re pretty open about this stuff. Plus, she’d
probably rather us in here than freezing our dicks off in the snow… not that she’s thinking about
our dicks. Oh gawd, this is literally the worst moment of my life.”

“Wait? You’re not a virgin?”

“Oh, shut up! Also, how are you still remotely hard?”

Louis barely lost his erection from before they were interrupted. Whereas Harry’s certain that the
experience he just had (with Louis’ hard dick pressed against him while his mom made sandwiches
not five feet away) is the dictionary definition of the perfect reason to be flustered.

Louis' expression is instantly sheepish, “so, turns out I might like the idea of people watching me
have sex. I mean not your mum and Gemma,” Louis grimaces at the thought. “My mind has a
tendency to be a few different places at once and their arrival might have stirred up some thoughts
I’ve been having lately. Fantasies, I guess. Ones that most definitely do not include your family.”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. The idea of being watched is kind of hot… in theory. By like strangers, or Niall. I feel
like he would root us on. You know like, Come on lads you can do it! Oh yeah, Louis, that’s how
it’s done.” Harry mimics an Irish accent and holds his shoulders in the puffed out, confident way
Niall tends to favour.

“Well, I reckon you just ruined that. Niall is the last person I want watching me ‘ave sex. He’d
have a beer in one hand, food in the other and probably try to share with us as we’re mid-hump.
He’s a lovely lad, but no, I’ll pass on that, fanks.”

“Too bad,” Harry teases with pouted lips.

“Keep going. I mean I’m not gonna lie, I knew you fancied him, but you’re stuck with me now.”

Harry hits his forehead with the palm of his hand, “you’re ridiculous. I bought you candles and
whip cream and you think I want Niall.”

“Oh, right. Whip cream. Care to enlighten me wot all the fuss was about that? Gemma made it
sound pretty important.”

“Don’t make me tell you,” Harry groans once again letting Louis’ chest support his head. He's
been in this position so many times in the past hour that he's starting to feel like Louis' pecs are
some type of extra appendage he can attach and detach at will, like Lego. Louis ruffles Harry’s
curls. The hairs being lightly tousled send tingles through Harry's scalp and the back of his neck.
He could stay like this, having his hair played with, for hours, especially when the person doing it
is Louis. A quiet purr escapes from the back of Harry’s throat.

“Does that mean you want me to stay?” Louis asks into the top of Harry’s head. Harry crosses his
fingers that he’s letting the previous subject drop.

“Of course! Is that weird?”

“I dunno. Your mum’s home. Is it weird for you? I could just sleepover. No funny business.”

“Funny business? How old are you, grandpa? And we don’t have to announce it, or give her a play
by play, or anything. I mean I live with her, so in the least gross way possible it’s kind of normal to
assume it may have happened before. Car sex is uncomfortable and…. well... right now doesn’t
seem like the time to be delving into ex’s living situations. Have you never done it at your
mum’s?”

“I reckon I’ve done stuff, but not like the whole deed. But also, all my siblings are there and I
haven’t lived there lived there in quite a while.” Louis’ forehead is scrunched in thought and Harry
is ready to fling himself off a tall building. Now Louis has him wondering if a sneaky little sex
session in his room is less normal than he thought it was. In the past it hadn’t bothered him. Maybe
that was young adult hormones for you though. Either way Gemma will be long asleep, probably
cuddling their mum in Anne’s room, since Gemma’s a cuddly drunk just like Harry and his mum
won’t stay awake long in a Gemma cuddle. It’s impossible. Gemma cuddles are so cozy, sleep
from one is a definite given. So basically, they won’t be the wiser. And it’s no different than doing
it with Louis’ roommates home. Harry hadn’t planned this, of course. He hoped they would be
cuddled post-coitus when Anne and Gemma came back. But he really doesn’t want to have to
further explain his reasons for the general not weirdness of Louis staying, so all he can do is watch
the other boy and wait what feels like an eternity for his response.
Louis mulls it over a moment longer before saying, “I guess it’s no weirder than back at my place
where my mates are and um… whatever Dave is. As if that’s not awkward.”

“Ok so you wanna go up?”

Louis chucks Harry’s chin lightly and gives him a quick unexpected peck on the lips, “you
bringing the whip, or am I?”

Harry rolls his eyes, taking Louis’ hand and pulling him off the couch. Louis quickly fastens his
jeans while Harry turns off the fireplace and the pair of them quietly wander the room blowing out
candles. Harry picks one up as he goes. It’s in a squat glass jar and does up with a black iron claspy
thing that Harry liked because it felt rustic, but his favourite part of the Vanilla Mint candle is its
name, ‘Meant to Bean’. He leaves it lit and when all the others are out, he and Louis pad up the
stairs with only the flame lighting the way.

Anne’s door is shut tight, the hallway quiet. Gemma’s door is wide open and the room is empty
just like Harry thought it would be. Even so, he closes and locks the bathroom door from his side.
He does the same to his bedroom door and sets the candle on the night table.

“Um so this is it,” Harry spreads his arms in the dark space.

“Nice digs.”

“I can’t take credit for them.”

“True. True. The candle though really brings everything together and it’s much tidier than my
place.”

“Yeah, so’s my room back home. I’d like to show it to you sometime. It’s chill. Lots of books.
Twinkle lights.”

“Sounds cool,” Louis is awkwardly fidgeting with his hands and Harry’s not sure how to get things
going again. They’re both just standing woodenly across from each other.

“Um so bed?” Harry asks. “I have this projector thing that attaches to my phone, so we can stream
something on the wall. It was cheap, but it’s not half bad.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Louis lifts his shirt over his head slowly like he’s questioning if it’s the right
move. Getting naked is something Harry is quite good at and he easily follows suit, pulling his
shirt over his head in one swift tug. His jeans are next. He peels them down then uses his feet to
help step out of them the rest of the way. He’s got his thumbs in the elastic of his pants and is
about to pull them down, when Louis eyes him.

“Force of habit. I usually sleep um, well, without ‘em,” he pats the elastic waistband on his pants
as if to say 'these aren’t going anywhere'.

“I reckon that makes sense given what we plan on doing…” Louis stuffs his hands in the pockets
of his jeans (slower than Harry in the clothing removal department) as his sentence trails off. Harry
whips off his underwear before Louis has even finished speaking, and jokingly, after twirling them
on his finger, flings them in Louis’ direction. He meant to send them lightly in the air, but his
finger worked more like a slingshot and the black briefs land at Louis’ feet.

Louis doesn’t notice though. He’s too busy staring, “holy shit. You’re um. That’s…. uh. Big,”
Louis’ whispers as his mouth drops open and he looks flabbergasted at Harry, who’s happily
enjoying his moment of glory. He feels like superman, legs spread a bit, hands on his waist.
“Thanks. Do you have a side of the bed you prefer?” Harry uses the same hushed tone as he walks
past Louis to the bed.

“Uh, what. Oh, nope.”

“Ok, you can have the wall side,” Harry lifts the duvet up and crawls under, pulling it to his waist.
He gets to setting up the little projector piece on his phone and notices that Louis hasn’t undressed
yet, “what’s up? Need something?”

“Just feels weird randomly stripping my clothes off.”

“You want me to give you a beat? You can add some dances moves while you do it?”

The straight-face Louis levels at Harry makes him giggle into his palm, shrug his shoulders and
feign innocence as he asks, “what?”

“Just look away, or something.”

“Louis, like ten minutes ago you said you had fantasies about being watched while,” Harry mimes
the time old gesture that means sex with his hands, “and now you don’t want me to watch you
undress before we…” he gestures again.

Louis rolls his eyes, “What can I say? I’m a paradox. Now shut ‘em.”

Harry closes his eyes. He can feel the huge grin on his face as he waits unmoving until Louis’
weight on the bed makes his presence known. Harry peeks from one eye to see Louis scurrying
under the covers in the previously empty space beside him.

“Ok,” he says settling on his side, “what should we watch?”

“Can we do something like Jurassic Park? The dinosaurs would look so cool biggie sized.”

“Yeah, but fair warning. The projector thing isn’t that big.”

“Not all things can be big, Harold. Some things are more compact.”

Harry wants to laugh so bad, but he holds it in with every ounce of will power. Since he hasn’t
gotten a good look at Louis’ junk, he can’t be sure how serious he’s being. But he’s felt it pressed
up against him and that definitely seemed promising.

Harry fiddles with his phone for a moment, feeling the heat from Louis behind him in the bed. It
doesn’t take long for him to get the movie going and the sound at a decent level where it won’t
wake up Anne, or Gemma. The picture is distorted a bit because of the door on the far wall, but he
hopes this is more for background noise than anything else. He scoots his bum back closer to Louis
and sighs when Louis takes the hint and cuddles into him.

“Little spoon,” Harry murmurs without meaning to. Louis’ body shakes slightly with laughter
around him.

“If you were a dinosaur which would you be?” Louis’ question is stated so seriously it makes
Harry smile uncontrollably and curl up further, trying to fill any space between him and Louis.”

“Brontosaurus. They seem so chill and they like veggies. You?”

“Triceratops. I think they’d be sassy and a little stubborn.”

Harry thinks so too. He doesn’t respond, but focuses his attention on the movie in front of him.

“Can you see?” He whispers back to Louis realizing the other boy might have a fluffy mound of
curls blocking his view.

“Yeah, m’good.”

They’re quiet for a moment. The movie and the candle the only movement in the still room. It feels
to Harry like they’re both holding themselves on the edge of a cliff and aren’t sure if they want to
tumble forward, or go back the way they came. Louis’ arm is slung over Harry’s waist and his
shallow breaths are grazing his ear. Harry wants to touch him. To kiss him. To be completely
enveloped in all things Louis, but he’s not an initiator. It’s just not in his DNA, so he waits and
hopes and pretends to watch the image in front of him. The lightest touch of lips to his shoulder
sends a thrill through Harry’s entire body. Another kiss is placed slightly lower, as Louis props
himself up on his bent arm.

“Harry? Remember how you were having that drink at the bar? The strong one. The one there was
a reason for, or whatever.”

“Mm.”

“Is the thing you were worried about happening right now?”

Harry closes his eyes and nods his head slowly.

“I’m right here. Come and get me.”

Harry sucks in a long breath and slowly flips to his other side, so he’s facing Louis. His face blends
with the darkness of the rest of the room, but Harry can make out the bit of stubble on his jaw line
and those lashes that leave shadows in their wake. He places a tentative kiss on Louis’ neck. The
breathy noise it pulls from the other boy is enough to spur him on. He leans in close, both his and
Louis’ chests heaving slightly in the tight space. He licks his lips, angles his head and brings his
face forward to meet Louis’ with a tender kiss. It’s only been maybe a half hour, but he’s already
forgotten just how good Louis’ lips feel on his. Or maybe that’s a lie. Maybe the sensation just
gets better each time. Either way, a rolling urgency simmers low and warm in his belly making him
push tight to Louis’ chest and lock his hands in the hair near the nape of his neck. Louis responds
by slipping one of his legs between Harry’s, rubbing Harry’s now hard cock with his thigh and
reaching around cupping his arse cheek with an eager hand. It’s Harry’s turn to moan this time, a
low rumble of a noise.

This goes on for a while—heated kissing, Louis’ thigh creating friction against Harry’s cock as
they grind into each other and hands, hands doing what they do best (caressing, stroking, pushing
errant hairs out of eyes). Nothing much past second base, but Harry’s not fussed, or not too fussed
anyway. It’s been a long time since he just made-out to make-out and he’s been enjoying it too
much to bother thinking about the next step. And that might be another lie. His dick is aching for
Louis and he’s craving to touch Louis’ dick too, but nerves keep him (for the most part) happily
kissing in safe territory rather than trying to make another move. Louis pulls back ever so slightly,
so that their lips are still touching, but they’re no longer kissing.

“Harold, I hate to put a damper on things, but if we keep at this, I’m not gonna last more than a
minute. No pressure, but it might be time for the main event soon.” The words are hushed and airy,
so even though they’re not particularly sexy, they make Harry’s body quiver.

“Have we been kissing long?”

Louis looks to the screen, “about an hour.”

Holy shit! They’d been snogging for an hour! Harry was lucky to get ten minutes of foreplay with
Olly.

“Right. Sex. Now.”

Louis chuckles, “if that works for you. And obviously not quite yet.”

Harry nods happily.

“Well, you’re the winner. How do you want to do this?”

“What do you prefer?”

“Depends on the day really, but I’m good with either.”

“Me too. Have you done the lazy man before?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t make fun of me, but I’m a morning, or daytime sex person. I get too sleepy at night. I mean
obviously I do it at night, but I’m just less…. energetic.”

“Ok so the lazy man?”

“On our sides and if you don’t mind, I’d like to be the little spoon tonight, please.”

“Lazy man because it doesn’t take as much effort and you can still watch TV?”

Harry nods again. He can feel the dimple popping in his cheek, “the ultimate Netflix and chill.”

“You’re a genius, my boy. Now lay down, so I can get you prepped. We’re even at the good part of
the movie.”

“Like this movie has bad parts,” Harry mocks as he hands Louis a bottle of lube and a condom.

“Sassy! I’m going to make you remember Jurassic Park for something completely different than
the dinosaurs after tonight.”

Harry’s heart jumps and tingles race from the pit of his stomach. He sure hopes so. He flops on his
stomach his face off to the side in the direction of the projector.

“Now, don’t think you’re off the hook here. I very much expect you to tell me what’s happening in
this movie, since I’ll be paying attention to you. Scene by scene, please,” Louis taps Harry’s side to
get him to make room for the pillow he scoots in under his thighs.

It’s a vulnerable position to be in, his naked bum slightly raised. The thought alone makes Harry’s
heart race. He loves it. The idea that he would let Louis do practically anything to him right now
and that he trusts Louis would take this honour and use it wisely. Not like other guys. The sound of
the lube top popping open sends goosebumps over Harry’s exposed skin. A slurping of air follows.
Harry turns his head to see Louis squishing the bottle gingerly to avoid lube spewing everywhere.
He catches a look at Louis dick. It’s not fully erect as he concentrates on the task at hand, but it’s
almost there and is quite sizeable, its girth intimidating. Harry wants to roll his eyes at Louis’
earlier comments, (compact, my arse!) but is hypnotized by the other boy’s long lashes while his
focus is set on the bottle in his hand. When Louis looks up, a smile takes over his whole face.
“Ready?”

Harry nods plopping his head back on his pillow like before.

“How’s your narration voice? I’m expecting James Earl Jones quality, you know.”

“Mm-hmm,” Harry sighs not really listening to Louis' foolishness. He's too focused on what’s
about to happen to play along and they'd kissed through the entire first half of the movie anyway.

“You’ll tell me if anything feels not how you’d like it to feel?”

Harry peeps back at Louis again and is met by large soft eyes, “I promise. Now get to it.”

“Wow! Really excited for the movie, are we?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Louis’ eyes glitter as Harry happily lays his head back on the pillow voice quiet and laid-back even
though he has a feeling what he’s about to say will shock the shit out of Louis, “I think Jeff
Goldblum is like really hot.”

Louis lets out a noise similar to a squeal and claps his lube free hand over his mouth. Once his
excitement has settled, he removes his hand and lightly swats at Harry’s bum, “me too!”

Harry giggles and is about to say something, but Louis chooses the same moment to spread Harry’s
legs apart just a touch more.

“So, what’s our boy doing right now? He’s not shirtless yet, is he?”

“He’s not on screen. It’s that bit where they have to go into the raptor paddock.”

Harry feels Louis’ lightly brush his fingers over the slowly fading bruise on his bum. It’s sweet,
like candy hearts and teddy bears for valentine’s day. Then Louis grazes Harry’s bum crack before
slipping a finger between his cheeks. He rests it there for a moment at the entrance of Harry’s hole.
Harry tries not to tighten up and to keep his breathing even, “Dr. Sattler is um going into the woods
with that guy. The one with the hat,” Harry says throatily.

“I love that bit. So intense,” Louis’ finger inches in ever so slowly.

Harry gets used to the sensation. It’s been a little while since he’s been with anyone, but himself.
Not that long, but long for him. He continues to quietly relay what’s happening on the screen. He
can sense Louis smile when his voice quavers, or he accidentally lets out a moan mid-sentence. His
feet curl in the sheets when Louis rubs over his prostate, “there, ugh. That feels good.”

Louis starts rhythmically mimicking the same movement and Harry has to bite at the pillow to
keep the animal noises that want to be grunted out of him in. He knows he’s noisy in bed. Often his
throat hurts from pushing out sounds he didn’t even know he could make, but he can be quiet too.
Like a kitten and a lion, Olly used to say and that he was never sure which he’d get.

“What’s happening in the movie?” Louis asks and now his voice is hitching a little, but there’s also
a sense of teasing in it.”

“Fuck, I dunno. It’s gonna be the clever girl part soon,” Harry practically growls out. Louis’ finger
speeds up at this comment and Harry fights not to jizz everywhere. "Anotheeeerrrr fingerrrr
pllllease.”
Louis does as asked by slowly adding another finger. Harry’s skin is clammy. The cool air against
it sending shivers like a confetti explosion through his body. His hips are rocking in time with
Louis’ fingers and his hands clench the fresh hotel sheets underneath him as he feels that familiar
sensation skirting his insides.

“Did she make it to the room, yet?” Louis asks.

“Huh? Whhhhhat? Oh, wow.”

“Dr Sattler,” Louis giggles, “did she get to the shed thing yet?”

“I just. No more words,” Harry finally manages to say, “I need to um. Oh gawd!”

“Yes, you need to?”

“Oh, my gawd, Louis, if you don’t fuck me now, I am actually gonna gonna. I dunno… but
pllleease.”

“Ok, no need to get all loud about it,” Louis hushes quietly so Harry takes the volume back down
below his regular speaking voice. “I would be thrilled to fuck you. Grateful even.” He slowly
removes his fingers and grabs one of the wipes Harry left by the bed to quickly clean his hands.
Harry sees it even in his sex haze state. He appreciates that Louis noticed them and chose to use
one. Come sticky is fine, but lube sticky is another matter altogether.

Harry lets out a quiet sigh, “do you..? Can I…?”

“All good,” Louis smiles at him like a mind reader and the corner of his eyes are crinkly as he rolls
the condom on.

Harry can barely keep his head up. His body is a tingly mess, aching both to feel full and for
release. Louis delicately rolls Harry to his side, managing to pull the pillow from beneath him. The
light touch screams caring, protective boyfriend and it’s Harry’s favourite of all the touches so far.
Louis curls behind Harry, the heat from his body cozy. He lines up to Harry’s hole and waits a
moment, building the tension. As if Harry needs that. He needs Louis inside him now. And then
Louis is easing into him slowly. Harry inhales with satisfaction at the sensation of Louis filling him
up. The warmth of Louis' chest against his back is comforting like a weighted blanket. Louis’ arm
wraps around him and rests on his chest. He leans in to whisper in Harry’s ear.

“We get to watch the dinosaurs fight, if we can last that long,” he thrusts slow and smooth into
Harry, his words husky.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re the one who wanted to watch TV while we fucked.”

“Is that bad?” Harry tenses while he waits for a response.

“No. Not at all. I’m taking the piss. It was fun. Like a game.”

Louis’ lips are behind Harry’s ear. His spot. Harry’s body shudders like maybe it will betray him
and send come flying all over the place right then and there.

“Hmmmm,” Louis murmurs. “Now I get why you like this position.” His hips speed up as he licks
where he’d just been kissing.
Harry’s hips are going too, even more so when Louis grabs hold of his dick, taking his thumb
across Harry’s slit before slowly starting to jerk him in time with the rock of their bodies. Louis’
breaths are heavy at Harry’s ear.

“You lied,” Harry says, when he’s able to get the words out.

“What? When?” Louis goes to stop his movements and Harry grins to himself.

“Your dick is huge. Like wide. I mean, I’m enjoying it very much.”

Louis lets out a clap of laughter that is sure to wake the next cabin, let alone Harry’s family.

“Thanks, Luv. Have I mentioned how perfect you are? Funny, pretty, smart. Pretty, did I already
say pretty?” Louis words graze over Harry's back like the rustle of maple leaves on warm summer
night. The fact that Louis starts nipping and sucking at Harry’s neck the second he's finished
speaking, intensifies their effect. Harry reaches back to hold onto Louis’ thigh, his fingers digging
into the flesh there and on his perfect arse. He pulls him in, Louis’ hips taking the initiative and
moving faster at the touch. He’s back behind Harry’s ear breathing quick, hot pants against the
skin there. Then his teeth are at Harry’s skin, his hand on Harry’s dick making him feel things he
didn’t think a hand possibly could.

“Oh fuck, Loooouuuu,” Harry turns his head so most of the sound is eaten by his pillow, only
coming out for air when he’s sure he can keep quiet. He’s shaking and gripping onto the sheets for
dear life when he finally feels an orgasm creep up. His body stills like that moment right before a
sneeze. Almost like none of his senses work for just a second. Then he tips over the edge and is
floating for the briefest instant before this absolute overwhelming sense of release courses through
him. It’s like he can feel the stress pumping out of him with his come that’s getting all over Louis’
hand.

Thankfully Louis isn’t far behind. Harry can feel as his thrusts stutter and get out of sync that he’s
about to come too. He bites into Harry’s shoulder with his final thrust and lets a soft moan sink into
the skin there. He can feel Louis twitching inside of him as he finishes. Neither moves for a
moment, like sweaty lumps of clay not quite ready to be molded back to human form. Jurassic Park
continues to play on the wall. Louis is the first to budge. He places a light kiss on Harry’s shoulder
before pulling out.

“Washroom?” Louis gestures to the second closed door.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Harry can barely string a sentence together in his sleepily satisfied state.

Louis tosses the wipes at Harry, “I’ll chuck the messy ones away when you’re done, sleepyhead.
That way you don’t have to move.”

“You’re a saint.”

Harry tidies himself up, leaving the used wipes where Louis will see them when he gets back. He
snuggles into the duvet, but makes himself promise he won’t sleep until Louis is back in bed.
Evidently, it’s a promise he can’t keep as he finds his eyes popping open to the rustle of sheets. The
movie is off. The candle is out.

“Shit how long was I asleep?” he whispers to Louis. He wouldn’t have spoken, but the amount of
movement coming from Louis’ side of the bed tells him the other boy is still up.

“Not long. Maybe ten minutes,” Louis cuddles into Harry wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Mmm ok,” Harry’s eyes flutter and he can hear his own breathing get slow and somnolent.
“Louis?”

“Yeah?” Louis sounds wide awake.

“I think we fucked up?”

“Wot? How?” Did Louis just pull away slightly?

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I just… I’m gonna miss you when I leave. Like a lot.”

“Yeah, Harold. Me too.”

There’s nothing else to say. Harry’s not quite so drowsy anymore. Instead, he stares at the dark
void in front of him, thoughts racing. Louis rests a steady hand on his chest and pulls him close. He
nestles his head into Harry’s now damp-ish curls.

“What do you use to wash these puppies? They’re so soft and they smell so good.”

Harry can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “shampoo.”

“Always the sassy one, heh?”

“Mmmmm, I think you give me a run for my money.”

“Well, I do try. Now go to sleep. Some of us have to work tomorrow.”

Harry’s not sure what it is, but something about Louis’ teasing bravado gives him hope they’ll
figure out some sort of solution to their current predicament. It’s with this new sense of
contentment that he nestles into his Louis cocoon and shuts his eyes for sleep.
 Chapter 13
Chapter Summary

Thanks for waiting for me (like usual) :)

This might be my favourite chapter yet.

And the countdown begins! Or it will have when Louis figures out the exact time and date of
Harry’s departure. Because even though last night was wonderful, amazing, and all the warm,
fluffy things Louis expected sex with Harry to be, it was a mistake. He knows this like he knows
the sinking feeling of anxiety currently residing in his gut. Harry’s not a one-night stand, or a
month-long thing and definitely not mates who date, or whatever dumb shit he sold to Harry that
started the whole bet fiasco to begin with. He’s boyfriend material. And how can they be
boyfriends if they don’t even live in the same country? Yeah, there’s long distance, but they barely
know each other and what kind of relationship is that? Nope, it’s just not gonna work and Liam
was right the whole time.

But when Harry stirs tucked under Louis’ arm, his curls a mess and cheeks flushed from sleep,
Louis can’t help wonder what magical elfin land he’s actually from and how Louis got so lucky to
be the one cuddling him. He knows he’s just smitten, but he’s never felt like this about anyone
before. All gooey and head over heels after basically just meeting them.

Louis thought Harry was beautiful before, like painfully, unearthly, so, from the moment he first
laid eyes on him, but after witnessing him, bum in the air, face soft and off to side, eyes closed and
lips spread just slightly in expectation, he understands now how truly gorgeous he can be. There
was an openness about his posture that makes Louis cuddle his feet together in the blanket instead
of stretching out the heat that’s suddenly erupting in his belly. Something about the way Harry lay
there all sureness and anticipation, wanting, but ready to wait for Louis’ touch, loosens a quiet
unexpected whimper from Louis’ lips. His body’s alternative to its preferred reaction of erratically
shaking away the rush of energetic tingles that bat around his insides.

He rolls his eyes at himself. Sometimes his brain likes to spit out random words, or sounds every
now and again. Not when people are around generally. Usually, it’s if he’s thinking too much,
conjuring up embarrassing things from his past, or worrying about things that are long done and
can’t be fixed now anyway. That’s when it happens. Out pops a word, or noise as if his brain is
doing an automatic reset, or sending a notification of a processing error, like a system overload
from the sheer amount of information stirring around up there. He lets the moment pass because
what else is he going to do. It’s just a weird thing about him and at least Harry slept right through
it.

Not usually an early riser, Louis gets the sense that Harry would normally be out of bed much
earlier than he is. For whatever reason though, it’s him up while Harry snores quiet puffed breaths
beside him. Louis isn’t even sure of the protocol here. Does he just pretend he’s sleeping? That
feels weird, but he knows he can’t keep staring at Harry the way he is. He must look like a
psychopath. He’s already been caught doing this once before, so he closes his eyes and pictures the
previous evening.

He remembers the happy hums Harry let sneak out as Louis played with his arsehole. It’s almost
like they’ve been etched to his ear drums. He did his best to lengthen the experience. To go slow
and really build up to a stellar orgasm. Harry just seems like the type to dig foreplay. Louis doesn’t
mind that. They can get hot and heavy later. This needed to be quiet and even though it was fun
(Louis loved teasing Harry with the silly movie questions. Loved the sense of power it gave him) it
was intimate too. For whatever reason, likely due to Olly, or maybe another boyfriend, or Olly and
another boyfriend, Louis thinks Harry needs a bit of intimacy. And, it’s not like Louis doesn’t want
that too. He feels bad even admitting it because he hates to use people, but Dave was definitely just
a quick shag when needed. There was absolutely no connection between them and nothing like the
closeness he feels with Harry. At this thought Louis very much wants to facepalm his forehead, his
focus circling back to his original concern. He’s known Harry less than two weeks; he can’t be
getting this attached this quickly. And even worse, he can’t let Harry get attached either, which
based on the other boy’s post orgasm comments, might already be an issue.

The sizzle of bacon can be heard from downstairs followed by the smell of breakfast foods wafting
into the room. Harry shifts mumbling sleep noises into his pillow.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Louis whispers into his neck. Shit. He didn’t mean to let that slip. He just
can’t help it.

Harry purrs in response, “Mmmmmm. Morning, Lou.” His voice is raspy as he squishes the heel of
his hands into his closed eyelids.

Fuuuuuuuck! He’s adorable. A sleepy little kitten.

Louis tries to shake off the doting feeling that hits him immediately, “somebody’s cooking up a
storm down there.”

“That’d be my mom. Think she’s trying to impress you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she has a
crush on you.”

Louis tips his head back on the pillow to laugh without clouding Harry in morning breath, “maybe
I have a crush on her too.”

“And where do I stand in this scenario?” Harry playfully pokes Louis in the side before throwing
the covers off himself and walking naked to the washroom with a cheeky look over his shoulder.

Louis knows he’s wearing a stunned expression. The boy just sauntered across the room
completely starkers with no qualms about it whatsoever. Literally any one of the many skiers
taking the run that goes past that side of the cabin, or anyone on the lift who chooses to look back
in that direction would get a full view of all Harry has to offer, which in Louis’ opinion is quite a
lot.

And right on time, there’s his good friend jealousy. Because it isn’t enough that he got to fuck this
lovely creature the night before and can enjoy the up-close image currently in front of him, as well
as the ones that will undoubtedly be seared into his brain for the foreseeable future. No. The fiery
feeling in Louis’ veins tells him he won’t be happy until he’s the only one to witness these things.
In a huff he storms out of bed like an angry child, completely disregarding his own nakedness, to
pull both sides of the heavy curtains together. His hands are still gripped in the fabric, Harry
unaware from behind the bathroom door, when he lets his head fall forward hair grazing the
material in front of him. Like usual, he’s gotten himself into a mess, but this isn’t one Niall, Zayn,
or Liam can help him out of. It’s also abundantly clear that he doesn’t technically want out of it, but
want and need are two different things. His hands are still clinging to the curtains, head in the same
position when Harry walks back into the room.
“Bathroom's yours.”

Louis turns to face him getting an eyeful of dimples, teeth and fluffy hair all aimed in his direction.

“Or are you busy starting on those fantasies?” Harry continues while cocking an eyebrow.

“Hm? What?” Louis finds himself caught off-guard and just imagines what he must look like
standing there in all his glory, so to speak, hands fisted in the curtains like the rope on a lifeboat.
“Oh uh. Yeah. Exactly. Wow! I’m such a perv,” he tries to add a joking self deprecating tone to his
words, but to his ears it falls flat.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice and with a wink responds, “Ok, hot stuff, you gonna be able to hold it
together for breakfast?”

“I reckon, but go down ahead, alright? I need a few to uh get ready,” Louis rubs his hands on his
naked thighs feeling weirdly on display even though Harry is still also completely nude. His
creamy skin is distracting and Louis thinks once again that he’ll need to ask about his tattoos one
day.

“Yup. Can do. Anything I can get you specifically? Eggs, bacon? Fruit?” Harry is already riffling
through his things for something to wear, his attention completely focused on the task.

“Mmm, yeah. Good thanks,” Louis mumbles, lost in his own thoughts as he heads to the bathroom.
He can’t be sure, but he thinks he catches the quick movement of Harry’s curls as if he turned from
the drawer to assess Louis’ tone. Louis doesn’t have time to be reassuring though. He feels a little
queasy all of a sudden and the familiar tightness of anxiety starts pressing from the inside of his
chest outward.

He closes and locks the door, checking Gemma’s side too before leaning over the vanity and
gazing at himself in the mirror. Sometimes he does this when he smokes weed. Just stands and
stares, taking in all his features. His face feels foreign to him then and now. Like how do the
separate parts combine to make up... well... him and how do they relate to what’s inside? The
swirling, spinning madness that only he’s privy to.

He looks at himself for a while before he picks up the toothpaste and brushes over his teeth with
his finger. After that he fixes his hair, before quickly using the toilet and giving himself a onceover
to make sure he’s presentable enough and not too smelly to be around other people.

With one last look right in his own eyes, he lowly tries a short pep talk to ease his nerves for
what’s awaiting him downstairs.

“Ok Tomlinson. You got this! Mum’s love you. Might be better if they didn’t actually…” he
ponders over the last thought still so stuck in what he’s going to do about Harry, about his life
overall because it just seems like one giant fuck-up after another and one day that has to end, right?
He’ll just get to feel happy and content, not like he’s constantly climbing up the walls and causing
chaos wherever he goes.

Breakfast is shockingly easy when Louis makes it downstairs. Gemma’s huddled on the couch with
a blanket wrapped entirely around her, even over her head like a medieval hooded cape, but fuzzy
and cuter. Her hands are clutching a large glass with some kind of a cream coloured looking
smoothie in it. Harry’s already scarfing down his avocado toast while Anne sips from a coffee mug
standing by an assortment of freshly cooked breakfast foods. Her face brightens when she sees
Louis at the bottom step.
“I made you a plate,” she smiles at him and his heart breaks a little imagining his own mum back
home. She’d be happy to make him a breakfast like this too, if she had the chance. He pushes aside
the guilt, smiles and walks quickly over to the empty stool by Harry to accept her offering.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that just for me.”

“It’s not. Don’t worry. Harry has eggs on his toast and I love a good fry-up.”

“Can we please stop talking about breakfast, PLEASE. Just the thought of it makes me want to
vomit,” Gemma moans quietly from her spot on the couch.

“I think that’s less the breakfast and more all those drinks you had last night,” Anne cocks an
eyebrow as Harry lets out a stifled laugh around his current bite of food. His lovely green eyes are
animated like usual and they land on Louis when he plunks his plate on the breakfast bar beside
him.

“Tea or coffee?” Harry asks jumping up, as Anne doles out her own breakfast.

“Um Tea if it’s not too much trouble,” Louis smiles and Harry grins back, obviously happy to fill
the request.”

“So,” Louis says as he spears some egg with his fork. “Is now not a good time to get you back for
the tickles, Gem?” He looks over his shoulder to give her just the faintest teasing grin.

Gemma sets a glare back at him. One meant for younger brother types and replies, “I wouldn’t.
You know I’m still the one with more embarrassing ammunition here.”

“I don’t get embarrassed, Luv. And if it embarrasses Harold even better. He looks good all rosy
cheeked.”

“Didn’t I just say I was about to barf, Louis?”

Anne shakes her head amusedly at the bickering while Harry watches on with a look of
consternation painted on his face. His eyebrows are lifted high and his lips a thin straight line.
Louis loves it. The fact that he can torment Harry and Gemma, in an affectionate way, at the same
time is like bliss. Teasing people is one of his favourite pastimes. Like Zayn alluded to so many
times when chastising Louis' flirting style, it’s just Louis' love language. So, of course, he winks
back at Gemma in a way he knows is just a little sassy, confident and annoying. Gemma can’t help
but laugh at him even though Louis can see her lips tighten and try to hold it in.

“Harry your boyfriend is bothering me,” she says with mock annoyance.

The look of panic that crosses Harry’s face is enough to stifle Louis’ own apprehension at the
word. The following indecipherable noises that Harry squeaks out are even better.

Anne jumps in to save him with a question about their plans for the day.

“Work, for me,” Louis responds despondently making a frowny face that he can feel all the way to
his toes.

Anne gives his hand a supportive little pat, “so it’s just me and you then, Harry? Since your sister
clearly isn’t up for leaving the couch.”

“Muuuuummmm,” Gemma whines and Anne just laughs.

Louis likes this family he thinks as he takes in each one of them, no longer paying attention to the
conversation around him, but watching their faces and the way they interact with each other
instead. They’re more than family. They’re friends too. Louis wants that so bad, but he’s never
been able to stay in one place long enough to get it. His own family is wonderful. Amazing even
and they’re tight, but Louis always had this urge to be somewhere else. To be doing something
exciting and then he was, but it was never enough. The lads are like family now though. He loves
them to pieces, which is why Liam’s weird behaviour recently has thrown him so much. He knows
he hasn’t been around for Zayn like he should have been either. He needs to fix it. Needs to be a
better friend.

He's sipping at his tea that Harry had placed beside him soon after the kettle had boiled, when
Harry’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Will I see you later, Lou, or…?”

Louis’ eyes track up from his mug to Harry. He looks like one of those cute little hatchling
cartoons from angry birds, all fluff and big eyes. Innocent.

“Can I text you later? Not sure if I have to pick up a dining room shift, or not. That’ll be a late
night, if I do.”

This is horrible. Louis needs to get out of here pronto. He can feel he’s letting Harry, Anne and
Gemma down in one fell swoop. Or maybe it’s just in his head. Works work. They must
understand that, but he can’t deny the crestfallen look that passes over Harry’s features.

Louis shoves in the rest of his breakfast unceremoniously and then awkwardly gathers his things,
his eyes cast down in embarrassment virtually the whole time. The tentative look on Harry’s face
tells Louis the other boy knows he has to leave and it’s obvious he doesn’t want him to. Not like
this, all stilted, the air pregnant with the things they need to say. Harry walks him to the door and
Anne and Gemma make a show of the quiet way they leave the room, as if they both know privacy
is needed. Louis is almost out the door before Harry spits out, “you regret it don’t you?”

“What? No! Course not. Just feeling a little off this morning.” Louis rubs his tummy for effect.

Harry’s eyes go round with concern, “not something we fed you, is it?”

Louis chuckles and knows this could be his out in more ways than one, “we all have to poop
sometimes, Harold. I am human you know.”

Louis had a expected a grimace of disgust at this. He’s perfected how to offend people’s senses,
what with all his sisters, but instead Harry just cackles and looks relieved.

“You can go here, you know.”

Apparently, Louis is going to have to take this one step further. “Nah, this is meant for my house
and my house only.”

Harry grins wide, then leans in and leaves the sweetest peck on Louis’ lips, “well, get out of here,
then. Message me when you have time.”

Those giant green eyes and that dimply, toothy grin are too much for Louis. This is gonna be so
much harder than he can imagine and he really hasn’t even formulated his new plan fully in his
head, but in the moment all he wants to do is kiss that smile so hard that a little bit of the wonder
that is Harry might rub off on him. He reaches for Harry’s neck and pulls him in, gentle, but
determined. Drawing Harry’s lips to his, he kisses him firmly. Just lips on lips. Then Louis pulls
back for a moment to take in all that is Harry. He’s just so pretty, Louis could stare at him forever.
He could starve to death staring at Harry, forgetting to eat from being lost in just how pretty this
boy is. Harry currently looks blissfully surprised. Louis brings him close again, this time spreading
his lips a touch, which Harry does too in response. Louis slips his tongue in Harry’s mouth and the
way Harry relaxes into him awakens that feeling in his belly, blood ready to rush to his dick. He
breaks off the kiss with a couple small intimate pecks on Harry’s lips. He then smiles huge at the
other boy, waves and runs off without another word.

**

“Niall, Zayn, Liam. Family room now!” Louis hollers from just inside the apartment door.

They all filter out of various areas of the apartment with different levels of questioning on their
faces. The door to Dave’s room stays closed and Louis thanks whatever force managed that
because he can’t deal with Dave right now.

“New plan,” Louis states plainly, mind racing as he gets the boys settled on the two large couches
in their main room.

Niall moans, “Tommo your plans are shite. What happened? Wasn’t the sex good?”

“Rude, Niall. It was great and that's all I'm saying about it. But that’s the thing though, innit.
Everything is great about Harry and it’s all gonna go to shit, so I need to make him not like me
anymore. We’re gonna pull a ‘How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days’ maneuver. Well not ten days,
however long he has left and he has to decide it’s because he’s not into me. We can’t do anything
that makes him think this is on him.”

Liam sits apprehensively tucked into Zayn, while the latter smirks like Louis just told some kind of
amusing joke. Niall though. Niall looks astounded, livid and like he might burst out laughing all at
once. It’s very confusing.

“And how do you plan on doing that, mate? Because I hate to break it to you, everyone who has
ever met you loves you. It’s never gonna work and even on the minuscule chance that it will, I’m
not gonna let that happen. You’re being a twat.”

“I’m just gonna be super annoying and gross. Maybe like fart in front of him. That would probably
do it?”

“So, you’re just gonna be yourself? My original comment still stands.”

“I thought you liked Harry?” Liam chimes in quietly.

“Of course, I do. He’s cute, charming, funny, sweet… I mean what’s not to love?”

“No one said anything about love, Lou. Except you that is. Is that the issue? Have you fallen for
this kid that fast?” Niall eyes him expectantly. And of course, Niall would catch that. He’s the
biggest romantic Louis has ever met. Bigger than Harry even. He hides it under his boisterous,
comedic personality, but Louis has always known it. He’s seen it in how he treats his dates and
how he talks about love when they’re high. He even knows about Niall’s secret penchant for
romcoms from the previously viewed list in his streaming account. Louis made a point of showing
how very unimpressed he was when Niall watched The Broken Hearts Gallery without him.

“Honestly? It’s bad. I know it’s stupid and I know I just met him, but ummmm…” Louis messes
with his fringe as he feels his eyes getting a little watery. He doesn’t want to admit this. He can’t be
this guy.
“Oh shit,” Niall’s voice is low and serious. A tone that rarely emanates from his generally jolly
lips. He’s the first to wrap Louis in a tight hug with Zayn and Liam adding onto it creating a circle
of warmth with Louis at the center.

“Why do I always have to fuck shit up,” Louis asks, his head awkwardly over Niall’s arm, but his
face leaning into Zayn’s armpit. His voice hitches embarrassingly on the words.

“You never do!” Liam says empathically nuzzling into Louis’ hair from the other side.

“Uh hum,” Dave clears his throat from the doorway. “Is this what you lads get up to when I’m not
around. Like why do I always miss out on the good stuff?”

Louis feels the other boys back away from him, Niall giving him one last hearty pat on the
shoulder and a steady look that says they’ll figure it out. No one responds to Dave’s question and
he’s left standing awkwardly watching as they all disperse. Louis reaches out to Zayn before he
heads off with Liam.

“Zayn, can we chat?”

With a glance and a nod at Liam first, Zayn turns back to Louis, “of course. Here, or…?” His eyes
dart to Dave.

“My room. I guess?”

They make small talk down the hall to Louis’ room, mainly about what time they both have to
work. Once inside with the door closed, Louis looks Zayn straight in the eye without a moment of
hesitation and blurts, “I want to apologize. I’ve been a total shit friend.”

“What? How?” Zayn’s mouth slackens in surprise, but his brown eyes are calm.

The words tumble quickly from Louis’ mouth, much like they often do before his brain has even
taken a moment to consider them.

“I’ve been so wrapped up in Harry I wasn’t around for whatever was going on with you and Li.
And just… you needed me and like usual I wasn’t around. That’s not right. That’s so shit of me.”

“Louis, you’re being way too hard on yourself. You’re the most loyal person I know. Like you
literally came up with a plan to make the boy you like fall out of like with you so HE doesn’t get
his feelings hurt. A shitty person doesn’t do that. So what? You were wrapped up in your own life
for a minute. Lou, that’s allowed.”

The breath that Louis lets out feels big enough to deflate his body as if he’s a balloon. With it goes
at least a quarter of the anxiety that had been building since earlier that morning.

“Well, I’m all ears now. What happened? You two have always been so cute and chill. I didn’t
know how to deal.”

Zayn contemplates before speaking as he settles on the edge of Louis’ bed and pats the spot in
front of him for Louis to do the same. Finally, he starts in the slow, reserved way he has of
speaking. Louis has always attributed it to a lack of confidence. Zayn doesn’t like to be the center
of attention, so when he has to talk, he generally keeps it to a minimum.

“It’s so stupid and totally my fault. You know how we’ve been chatting for like ever. Well, I guess
Li thought we were together when I thought we were just really into each other. I mean we didn’t
live close enough to see each other consistently and all we did was talk online. I thought maybe one
day, but we never agreed on anything. Anyway, I made out with this other guy. It was nothing, but
I told Liam about it a couple weeks ago when we were having the “how many people chat”. We
were laughing about exes. It was no big deal, but Liam asked when the last time I hooked up with
someone was and I admitted the make-out. He got really upset. I thought we were okay for a bit. It
was right before Harry showed up though and I guess… I dunno... I don’t understand it, but I think
Liam took the Harry thing as a second betrayal. Because you and him are so close or whatever. I
think he was just already super sensitive.”

A piece a Zayn’s dark hair flops on his forehead, partially obstructing one eye. He’s got his eyes
directed at the floor like a sad puppy dog, his long lashes downcast. Zayn’s the only other man he’s
met with eyelashes that could rival his own.

“Zayn, that’s not on you.” Louis has a hard time finding his voice. He’s not sure why, but none of
this sits right with him. He was sure Liam had said specifically that he and Zayn hadn’t been
together before they got here. He very much made it sound like they both knew that, so what was
all this about and how on earth did it have anything to do with Harry?

Zayn just shrugs in response, “we’re over it now, so no point fixating, right?”

“Yeah. I mean I guess not.”

With that Zayn gives Louis a half smile that’s not really a smile at all, but more of a goofy,
straight-lipped look where only one corner of his mouth is turned up just a fraction. He pats Louis
on the shoulder, as he walks by, “see you at work later then, if you find an extra shift, that is.”

“Yeah, I hope so. We can hash out the plan.”

Zayn rolls his eyes at this, but grins at Louis anyway as he closes the door behind him.

**

Louis hadn’t lied to Harry. He is working. His teaching shift, however had been short and the
dining room shift he picked up was his own doing, but he really needs the boys to help him with
this plan and they’re literally all working so there’s no better time.

Louis scored the cocktailing shift. His favourite because he gets to run drinks and flirt with all the
tables. Not in a gross way, but his usual fun, charming way of platonically teasing everyone. Niall’s
in back of the house as expo, calling new orders to the kitchen and prepping the salads and desserts
the wait staff need. Ed’s at the bar and Liam and Zayn are both serving. Louis has no real reason to
be in the kitchen with Niall, but he needs all the input he can get and the others he can catch as they
work their way through the dining room.

“Calamari, Table 4,” Niall shouts. His voice and tone are literally perfect for this position.

“Pretty sure I could fart in front of him, or I think I could,” Louis bounces on the balls of his feet as
he prepares to hit Niall with another idea of how to turn Harry off. “Orrrrr eat with me mouth
open.”

“Done both. Chicks still dig me,” Niall says, barely paying attention as he checks two plates at the
pass counter.

“Gawd, you’re gross. Well, then what do you think I should do.”

“I told you, mate. I will not support this, so don’t even bother.”
“Ugh, you’re being the worst.”

Niall waves him off with a twist of his wrist in the air. It’s sassy even for Niall.

Louis heads back out front. He needs to check on his tables anyway. Zayn walks by with a hug tray
piled with a table’s worth of dishware propped on his shoulder.

“Farts, Zayn. What do we think about farts?”

“Jesus, Lou,” Zayn hushes, “you can’t scream out farts while I’m carrying a tray full of plates and
shit. You just can’t.”

“Weeeellll?”

“Yeah, I mean some people are against farts, but like I dunno I kinda think they’re cute.”

“Useless the lot of you!” Louis says as Zayn passes through the swing doors into the kitchen. He
scoots to the bar sidling up to Ed and surveying the tables in front of him, “how goes it out here?”

“Looks like table 4 will be ready for drinks soon.” Louis eyes the round six-seater in the middle of
the room, “on it, but um Ed?”

“Yes, Lou?”

“What if I stop wearing deodorant and brag about it like Matthew McConaughey? You think that’ll
work.”

“I think Harry’s a good lad and he’d probably just stop wearing deodorant along with you.”

“I bet he’d smell good, though.”

“Yeah, um… how ‘bout checking on table four?”

Louis can tell Ed is laughing at him. He’s oh for three already. What is even with these lads?

“Hi there,” he greets the table. “Can I grab you some drinks?”

The kids rhyme off pops and the adults order a bottle of wine. Easy. “Can I ask a question?” Louis
leans in conspiratorially and the parents at the table look at him quizzically as they hand the
youngest kids ipads. “If you were trying to make someone, think you were gross, or not like you
what would you do?” Before he can take in the horrified looks he’s now receiving, from who he is
presuming, are mom, dad and grandpa, the middle child, who he guesses is around eleven, cheers,
“pick your nose!”

“Good one. That’s a good one, mate. Got any more?”

“I’m sorry about that, folks. Temporary brain loss,” Liam scoops an arm around Louis and leads
him to the bar.

“You literally have to stop. You can’t ask Guests about ‘gross’ stuff at dinner, but you know that.”

“What am I supposed to do? None of you are helping.”

“We will. I promise, but you gotta stop. You’re making yourself crazy and alienating the people
who gives us tips, I might add.”
“Fine,” Louis acquiesces even though he has other plans. He lets Liam lead him back to the bar and
manages to refresh drinks for a couple tables before everything is ready for table four. Liam’s gone
and Ed’s distracted making other orders, so he slips off with the tray unbothered. He sets the drinks
down, leaving the kid with the nose picking idea for last.

“Hey, you. What else you got?" He hisses out the side of his mouth. He knows he’s acting as
young as this kid actually is, but he can’t help it. He’s immature.

The kid looks up at him and then to his parents mischievously before handing over the paper kids
menu that, instead of colouring and playing the maze and other various games on, he’s written a
pretty impressive list in crayon.

“Thanks, Kid," Louis winks at him conspiratorially. “I owe you one.”

Louis leaves with the menu and heads straight to the kitchen, reading as he walks. This kid doesn’t
know the rules, so some of his list is not do-able, or not anything Louis would do to Harry, but
otherwise he’s a genius.

For the guy with the drinks and the messy hair. If you’re not him don’t read any further:
• Throw things at them
• Call them names
• Talk too much
• Put your dirty socks in their backpack
• Text them dumb stuff
• Call instead of text and make them talk to you for a loooooong time
• Poke them and be annoying
• Repeat whatever they say

“Nialler! It’s gold! The kid at table four wrote me a list and it’s almost perfect. Either he’s had to
do this himself, he’s a super skilled middle child, or he’s an ancient guru living in a pre-teen’s
body.”

“Louis, listen to yerself. You’re taking advice from a child. What does that tell you about this
plan?”

“Says the lad that just yesterday was applauding a thirteen year-old for his skills at picking up
girls. Don’t tell me you’re not gonna try out his moves next time someone catches the ol’ Nialler
eye?”

“Yuck, man. You make me sound like a perv. I’m looking for my version of Harry and if I found
him, I wouldn’t be concocting plans to get rid of ‘im.”

Louis can feel his eyes narrow and hone in on his friend as a tickle of unwarranted jealousy makes
his insides churn.

“Oi, calm down. I didn’t actually mean Harry. We’re not doing this again. But that reaction should
tell you something.” Niall’s whole face lights up animated and impish, his blue eyes in half moons
as his cheeks puff up in a smile. The peaches and cream colour of his skin looking down right
radiant.

Louis thanks the stars and the sky and whoever/whatever he needs to thank that Niall is not into
men because he’s certain he would have won Harry over if he tried. He’s beautiful, fun and the
most easy-going person Louis has ever met. That and the little bit of sass he brings out every now
again, he’s not sure how their door isn’t being knocked down daily by both women and men alike
for a chance to be with this lad. Louis and the entire mess that he is, can’t compete.

“You know I love you, right?” Louis sighs after this thought.

“Of course! And I love you, but I’m gonna tell you when you’re being a knob. Now go get yer
work done, so we can get out of here sometime tonight.”

Niall pulls Louis tight to him, before Louis has a chance to do as he’s just been instructed, and
plants a loud, wet kiss on his fringe. Then he turns him around and pushes him towards the kitchen
door with a tap on his bum.

“Hands off the goods,” Louis teases as he turns and gives Niall a wink before heading back to
check on his tables.

The rest of their shift is excruciatingly long. It seems like every guest in the resort wants to camp at
their tables all night long, no matter how hard the boys try to push them to leave.

**

“Something was in the air,” Zayn complains.

They’re all back at the apartment--everyone that worked that evening. Normally on a night like this
they’d all head to the bar after their shift, but it was just too late to bother once they all got out.
Dave’s sulking on the couch with one of the newer hostesses. Ed and Liam and the kitchen crew
are doing shots at the kitchen counter, while everyone else is mingling. Everyone except Louis,
Niall and Zayn. Louis is cross legged on the floor with a notepad in his hand while Zayn and Niall
sit in front of him on the opposite couch to Dave.

They both have beers going and are looking down at him with smiling eyes.

At the top of the striped piece of foolscap Louis has scrawled: Louis’ list to make Harry Styles not
like him!

“Is that really necessary, Lou?” Zayn can’t help the giggle that escapes his lips as he asks.

Louis is very drunk and it feels necessary to him. Like if he doesn’t remind himself of his goal,
he’ll forget and try to make Harry fall in love with him. Because honestly all he wants are those
green eyes of Harry’s to look at him the way they did at the pool when Harry almost drowned.
Like even though Louis is a total fuck-up those doe-like eyes could only see perfection. Louis
hiccups at the memory.

“Yup.” He scrawls some of the points from the kids’ list earlier underneath the title. “Ok go.
What’d you come up with.”

“The sex must have been like really really good, or total crap to require all this,” Zayn states. It’s
like all his mates think about is sex. He knows that’s not true, but they sure are focused on it with
this whole situation. Maybe it’s because that’s all Louis has ever been interested in before. And
again, that’s not the whole truth either. It was just what Louis managed to find in the dudes he’d
been with.

“Not that I’m going to talk about it, but it wasn’t the kind of sex you rate. It was like… more and
it’s not the sex that’s making me do this… I told you that already. It’s Harry. He’s just… I can’t
explain just help me out here, ok?”

Niall lets out a low whistle and a woah, “so IT IS like that then. I had a feeling.”
“Littering?” Zayn jumps in probably not wanting a scene like earlier when Louis almost cried and
Louis can’t be more grateful. He already feels like enough of an idiot about this whole thing. He
doesn’t need them to know just how over the moon he already is for Harry even though it's obvious
they already do. And also of course, Zayn, the eco warrior would come up with this one, although
Louis can tell it pains Zayn to say it and he quickly adds an amendment, “I mean as long as you
pick up whatever you litter after the fact.”

“I like that phone call one. You know instead of texting. No one likes chatting on the phone. Have
you texted him today?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, just once, so he didn’t feel bad, or think I was ignoring him. That's not what I want.”

“Ok so call him tonight instead of texting and keep him on the line forever. Literally who likes
actually talking on the phone? And then you can get really clingy. You know, smother him. Too
much too soon kind of thing. And you could like write him a really cheesy poem every day and
text it to him.”

Both Zayn and Louis stare at Niall. His idea is definitely a good one and that's not generally the
case with Niall.

“That’s so perfect it makes me want to barf a little," Louis comments. “How’d you even think of
that?”

Niall's cheeks redden, “It’s what I did with me first girlfriend. Songs instead of poems though and I
was trying to win her heart, of course."

The cackles that explode out of Zayn and Louis fill the room and draw a few sets of eyes their way.
Louis clamps his hand over his lips and finally muffles out, “sorry mate.”

Niall takes a slug of his beer and shrugs, “her loss.”

“It definitely is,” Zayn wraps his arm around Niall’s shoulders and lightly butts the side of his head
with his own.

“I could like spoil movies and shows and stuff on purpose. That’s the worst.” Louis scribbles while
Zayn and Niall have their moment.

“Eat off his plate. You know how I hate to share me food,” Niall says, back to his usual self.

“YES!” Louis’ hand runs quickly across the page, the words barely legible, “ok ok this is proper
good. Thanks, boys.” Louis jumps up and gives both Niall and Zayn a sloppy kiss on their cheeks.

“You’re leaving us?” Zayn asks while making puppy dog eyes at Louis. He nudges Niall to do the
same. Of course, Niall does.

“That’s not gonna work tonight, fellas. I’ve got a call to make,” Louis practically runs to his room
to the sound of Niall and Zayn snickering behind him. He’s lucky he doesn’t trip as he avoids the
random groups of people and crap on the floor along the way.

Louis giggles to himself as he types out a quick text:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Your eyes are green
And I like you
He hits send and immediately after hits the phone button by Harry’s name.

“Hello?” Harry’s sleepy voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi!” Louis chirps back.

“You’re calling me?”

“Did you get my text?”

“Uh no. I was sleeping, hang on.” The line is quiet until Harry’s laugh abruptly breaks the silence
and then is muffled, likely by his pillow.

“I like you too, Lou.” Harry says when he comes back. It sounds warm and fuzzy around the edges.

“What’d you do today?” Louis starts to shuck out of his clothes.

“Hung out with mum and Gemma. Just kept it low-key. You saw what Gem was like this
morning.”

“Hey Harry?”

“Yeah Lou?”

“When do you guys go home?” It comes out as a whisper.

“You sick of me already?”

“Pft.”

“The twenty-second,” Harry responds resigned now, the joking tone gone from his voice.

Louis counts the days in his head and on his fingers, realizing just how drunk he is, “so eighteen
days left.”

“Um yeah.”

The line is quiet.

“So, Harold, tell me about yourself.” Out of his clothes and only in a pair of tight black boxer
briefs, Louis shuffles into bed and under the covers.

“What do you want to know?” Harry’s voice is soft.

“Well… what’s your most hated book?”

“Oh, good question, but I can’t say.”

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t want to hurt its feelings.”

“Pardon? Books have feelings?”

“I mean I know they don’t, but all the same. You know you interrupted my dream and it was a
good one.”
Louis snuggles into his blanket cocoon. “Oh? Do tell.”

“You were there,” Harry’s voice gets low. “We were… we were at a party.”

“Were we having fun?”

“Yeah, we were wearing these really sexy suits. Yours hugged your bum in just the right way.”

“Harry, you’re getting me hard,” Louis’ too drunk to mince words.

“I know! Why does thinking about you in a suit give me a raging boner?”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Harry doesn’t respond. The silence makes Louis think he’s definitely put his foot in it, but Harry
finally says, “I’ll have to be quiet.”

“Can you do that, babe? I mean… currently are you in the mood to be… um… quiet?” Louis
stumbles over his words. He doesn’t want to make Harry feel uncomfy and he’s definitely not
commenting on their previous experience.

“Yeah… I – um. Yes.”

“Ok so about this dream,” Louis scoots out of his briefs, kicks them from under the blankets and
then finds a position that he’s happy with.”

“We were in these suits and we were holding hands. You were rubbing your thumb against mine
and we were laughing about something,” Harry’s voice alone has Louis beyond hard. It’s deep and
warm and hitches slightly at the end of his sentences which makes it sound like Harry's already
gotten started. Louis reaches for his own cock, catching a bit of pre-come at the tip to help his
hand slide over the smooth skin.

Harry’s breaths are getting heavier, “you looked really good, Lou.”

“Just me arse?”

Harry stifles a giggle, “no. But it did look good. Your thighs. Fuck they’re so thick.”

Louis' hand stops moving for a second, “just in the dream, or are you saying they are actually
thick? As in, you like them?”

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry mutters. “Of course, actually. I’ve seen how you use just your legs to pull
yourself up on your board. Like when we’re sitting on the hill and I have to maneuver myself to
standing, your quads literally have you up in seconds. You’re just the right amount of muscular.
Not like roided out, but fit.”

Louis starts moving his hand again, “You too. Super fit. Like sometimes I think about your tits
and…” an unexpected moan slips out of Louis’ lips.

“My tits?”

“Yeah, they’re like perfect,” Louis breaths out, focused on his strokes. “But you gotta know that.
You show ‘em off all the time in those sheer shirts.”

Harry laughs, “you’re making it hard to concentrate.”

“Urrr right, sorry,” Louis huffs, “let’s get back to the dream.”

“Well, I took you out onto this balcony thing. It had the most magnificent view, but all I wanted to
do was look at you. And then we were kissing and you did that thing I like… on my neck and
behind my ear.”

Harry’s back into it now. His slow, husky words making that abundantly clear.

“I wish I was doing that now,” Louis responds his back arching slightly at the thought and Harry’s
corresponding mewling on the other end of the line.

It takes a moment before Harry speaks again, his voice a little tighter, “so, I started to unbutton
your shirt and I gave you this giant love bite right on your collarbone. It went all red and I could
almost see teeth marks. I dunno why, but it turned me on… like a lot,” Harry manages to get out
between shallow breaths.

“At the party?”

“Mmmmm. Yeah, I had you pushed up against the wall, in a good way, and then I got down on my
knees and sucked you off. I could even feel your dick in my mouth. That’s how real it was.”

And that’s all Louis needs to hear. This and a slight increase in the speed of his tugs, with his ass
lifting off the bed and thighs pushing upwards, has come spurting over his hand, messing up his
sheets and his low belly, “Jesus, Harry,” he states tiredly after a fairly loud moan stops
reverberating in his skull. “Almost everyone I work with probably just heard me come.” His body
shudders excitedly at the thought. He’s too tired and drunk to care what that means, but he does
care about the muffled noises this evokes from Harry.

“Harry? Harold?” He asks quietly into his device then waits patiently for a response that takes a
minute to come.

“I’m such a mess over here, Lou. Were you serious? Did a whole bunch of people just hear you get
off while moaning my name?”

“Yeah, guess so,” Louis shrugs even though Harry can’t see it. Louis didn't necessarily realize he
moaned Harry's name, but it's not shocking. It's been his go-to for at least a week.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. I just jizzed everywhere.”

Louis laughs a drunken cackle. He can hear how intoxicated he his by the distant way the sound
rounds and bounces all muffled, but loud at the same time.

“Louis, are you drunk?”

“A bit.”

“Oh.”

“S’okay though. Like not ‘I’m gonna regret this later drunk’ or anything.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Maybe the sheets,” Louis murmurs to himself picking up his duvet and looking at himself before
letting it flop back down.

“So, you called me from your room when there’s a party happening in your apartment?”
“Uh huh. I would have invited you, but we all got off so late we just came here. Like it wasn’t
planned, or anything.”

“No. It’s cool. I’m not – I’m…. It’s just cute is all.”

“Oh,” Louis mimics Harry's earlier comment and tone without realizing it.

There’s a pause while Louis thinks of what to say. Finally, he has a question, “do you dream of me
a lot? I mean since you met me?”

“Conceited much,” Harry teases.

“Well, there was the porcupine thing.”

“Right. Good memory. Well then, I guess I do.” The words make Louis’ drunk heart feel like
soupy ice cream left out of the freezer too long, but he tells himself that’s enough. He's supposed to
be acting too clingy which shouldn't be hard because all he wants to do is cling to the other boy like
plastic wrap. Make him not like you. Louis asks another question. He personally doesn’t love it
when people ask him questions. It’s a weird trait, but maybe Harry’s the same. Although he can’t
say he minds when Harry asks him questions, so who knows.

“What else do you dream about? Do you have any like reoccurring dreams? Did you dream about
your exes a lot? What were they like? Have there been lots?”

“Woah,” Harry chuckles. “I can’t actually think that fast, Lou. Um reoccurring dreams, yes.
Drowning, or like water. Sometimes it’s really hectic and sometimes it’s calm, but there’s always so
much water. It scares me a bit. I dream a lot, so I probably dreamt about exes quite a bit. And no
there haven’t been a lot of exes. Describing them would take a while and would probably be really
boring, so let’s skip that.”

“Just give me the highlights then.”

Harry sighs, but acquiesces. Louis can hear as the sheets move while Harry gets comfortable before
he starts chatting again, slow and smooth, a quiet whisper in Louis’ ear. A couple times Louis nods
off, but Harry only laughs and continues to chat when Louis wakes up again and presses him to do
so. Louis feels pretty good about completing this task off his list and he also just loves listening to
Harry, so win win. That’s the last thought that runs through his head as he closes his eyes and
continues to listen to whatever Harry wants to tell him on the other end.
 Chapter 14

Eighteen days until he leaves. It’s all Harry can think about since Louis brought it to his attention.
He obviously knew the time was moving along, but distantly in the back of his brain where he
liked it. Now though, it’s staring him right in the face. The fact that Louis was so cute on the phone
the previous evening does make up for this new awareness and if he’s completely honest with
himself he was going to have to face the end of his vacation at some point. Like any trip, about
halfway through that sad little feeling that it can’t last forever would have brought him back to
reality. This time it’s worse, of course, because leave it to him to meet a wonderful guy who lives
in two entirely different countries than he does. All in all, it seems smarter to come to terms with
his impending departure now, a few days ahead of schedule. He makes a resolute decision to not
wallow though. He’s going to enjoy the next eighteen days as best he can. Be in the moment and
such.

He shakes out his long limbs, achy and tired even though he hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet. It
was maybe four in the morning when he finally hung-up with Louis. He being the operative word,
since really after hours of listening to Louis snore into his cell phone, Harry realized by the silence
on the other end that Louis must have woken for a moment and disconnected the call not knowing
Harry was still there.

He didn’t take Louis for a late-night phone chat kind of guy, but apparently, he was wrong. The
text that pings through to his phone, grabbing his attention, proves him incorrect a second time. He
could have bet he wouldn’t hear from Louis until the afternoon at the earliest, but there on his lock
screen is a very upbeat looking ‘good morning! :)’, smiley face and all. The exclamation is so off
brand for Louis. His texts are usually direct and to the point with just a hint of sass. The poem last
night had also been out of character, but its playfulness had Harry chalking it up to Louis being a
bit buzzed at the time. Another text comes through before Harry can respond.

‘I miss you. Switched shifts. Can I hang out with you and the fam today?’

I miss you? That’s it! Someone stole Louis’ phone. Or he’s fucking with Harry because if
exclamations are off brand, I miss you is- well, it’s not part of a language Louis speaks. The little
that Harry has gathered about Louis might not amount to much, but he knows how Louis feels
about certain expressions of emotion. He’s a flirt, yes and he is open to sharing his feelings,
generally when under duress of some sort, but blanket statements that don’t really mean much, like
I miss you when they literally hung up with each other hours ago, are not his thing. That’s what he
likes about Louis, the way he is authentically himself all the time. There’s no questioning what
he’s thinking because he’ll say it straight up and if you know him well enough, you know exactly
how to take it. Like ‘you’re ridiculous, Harold’ actually means ‘I think you’re cute.’ Harry
understands that now after the whole ‘Sun'/‘Son’ debacle.

Uneasiness settles in Harry’s belly as he eyes the message. There’s nothing fun or teasing about it.
If anything, it’s a bit banal. Harry feels instantly bad for the judgement, but for some reason
somethings just not sitting right. It’s not that he doesn’t miss Louis. If he thinks about it, of course
he misses him. He wants to be around him every second of every day BUT would he tell Louis
this? Not a chance! They’re supposed to be in the bubbly post sex stage of whatever they’re doing,
not the openly admitting they miss each other phase.

‘Sure. No plans yet. Come by whenever.’ He finally types back.

Harry’s fingers hesitate over the keys. He feels odd sending the text that by anyone else’s standards
is peppy enough, but without his usual string of emojis it seems incomplete. He sends it off
anyway and debates texting Niall next. He has a feeling Niall can’t lie for shit, so if someone has
Louis’ phone, he’ll fess up instantly.

'Hey! Heard you had a party. How was it?’

The three dots appear instantly.

‘Sounded like you and Louis did too. How’d you get him shouting your name like that? Enquiring
minds.’

Another text from Niall comes through seconds later before Harry can comment on the first.

‘Like my mind. I need that shit for when I finally meet Mrs. Niall.”

‘You’re gross.’

Niall sends a kissy face back and Harry decides that’s the end of the conversation. He drags
himself out of bed and into the shower. He’s just exiting the washroom, naked aside from a towel
he’s using to dry his hair instead of covering his body, when he looks up to see Louis resting lazily
on his bed.

“Jesus, Lou. What the hell?” Harry’s not one to be shy, but the abruptness of having someone in
his space when he wasn’t expecting it has him hiding behind his towel.

“Oh, gawd. Sorry, Harry!” The redness that spreads up Louis’ neck tells Harry the apology is
sincere.

“I didn’t think you’d get here quite so quickly, s’all,” Harry throws the towel over the back of a
nearby chair, feeling more himself again.

“Too quickly?” The little smile that plays across Louis’ lips makes it seem like he’s happy with
himself. Harry knows that look. He’s seen it after following Louis’ teaching and executing the
moves correctly on the hill. It’s the way Louis looks when he’s accomplished something. Harry
remembers another time he’s seen that smile. Being naked makes the current moment less than
ideal to ponder on that memory however.

Harry pulls into a pair of comfy torn jeans that sit low on his hips before looking back to Louis to
reply, “No. Not at all. Happy to see you.” And aside from the weirdness of his earlier text and
quick arrival it’s not a lie. “Did my mum let you in?”

“Oh, I uh let meself in, but the door was open to be fair.”

“Right. Right,” Harry murmurs. “I mean you have slept here, so mi casa, su casa.” He gives Louis
a little wink.

Louis’ expression falters. The way his lips drop into a frown has Harry instantly wondering if any
of the general weirdness he’s been sensing has to do with them having sex. Maybe Louis is like
trying to let him down easy because he wasn’t all that impressed with the experience. Wouldn’t be
the first time. He bites his bottom lip as he considers it. He’ll admit he was a bit of a pillow
princess the other night and although he had a great time maybe Louis didn’t. Harry spent a good
part of the previous day thinking about it and Louis’ odd behaviour is only making his concern
seem more likely. He didn’t do anything for Louis. That’s not him. He’s always very giving when
it comes to sex, but he was tired and nervous and more importantly liked how in control Louis
seemed. He wanted to let Lou have his way with him and hadn’t thought of much else. Harry
continues to chew at his lip lost in thought as he throws on the rest of his clothes for the day. Louis
clearing his voice startles him.

“What cha thinking about, Harold?” his tone is soft and he’s looking at Harry round eyed almost
from below his lashes like a sad elderly dog would do.

“Um nothing,” Harry shrugs it off as he messes with his wet curls. Before Louis can question him
further, he fakes a smile he knows he doesn’t land and says, “let’s go. I feel like mum’s got a busy
day scheduled. She likes to be um active. Me and Gemma clearly missed that gene.” The joke like
his smile falls flat, but Louis gives him a chuckle anyway.

They stumble into Anne in the hallway, and she looks as perplexed as Harry about Louis’ presence
so early in the morning. She’s better at hiding it though and only a quick flicker of confusion
crosses her face before she makes a comment on their plans.

“Louis wants to tag along if that’s cool?” Harry knows it's fine and it's a bit awkward to ask with
Louis right there, but he still feels like he should frame it as a question, rather than a given. They’re
all heading down the small staircase, Louis’ hand resting lightly at Harry’s waist from where he
trails behind. The touch puts Harry a little more at ease, but he can’t help the images that run
through his head almost as if in a slideshow. His hand gripping white sheets enough to pull them
all askew exposing the mattress beneath, the make-shift movie screen, Louis’ proud grin over
Harry’s naked shoulder. He can almost feel that sensation of it all being too much and not enough.
The way he wanted to just relax and enjoy the care Louis was taking to make him feel good while
at the same time needing to orgasm so bad that being in the present was practically impossible.
He’d been so greedy, pushing into Louis fingers and then his cock, but doing little else. Imagine if
he tried that with Olly. He has to physically shake his head like a snow globe to catch Anne’s
response.

“Oh, that’s great, Louis. Do you like shopping?”

Louis’ hand gives Harry a little squeeze as he tells Anne he most definitely does.

Gemma takes a bit to get ready, but eventually they’re all in the car headed for a local town that
Anne’s friends told her had the best mix of stores in its downtown—used books, antiques and
consignment shops, even a cute little bakery for lunch. The car is silent for a good twenty minutes
and it’s making Harry antsy, when Louis finally cuts through the thickness in the air with an
exuberant, “Hey, don’t you all normally sing when you’re in the car together. Didn’t you say that,
Harold?”

Harry doesn’t have time to react, but inside his brain is screaming in panic. Instead, Gemma turns
around quickly, a huge smile taking over her whole face. She gives Louis’ cheek a quick pinch,
“Oh, Harry, I officially love him.”

Louis beams and Harry’s stomach sinks. A song fills the interior of the car as Gemma peeks back
at them with a grin. Harry knows it well. It’s one of his favourites.

“Tapestry,” Gemma says simply, referencing the Carole King album she’s put on as she leans back
into her seat to soak the music in.

Louis belts out the first line loudly and with passion, so much so that even Anne glances back at
him with a laugh. Gemma gives him a side nod like she approves, and Harry can’t not stare. He’s
got a good voice. Harry hadn’t expected that. It’s bright and loud, full somehow. Not near as deep
as his own. Louis sends him a little wink and nudges his arm as he continues on with the next line
and smiles huge when Harry tentatively jumps in too.
“I feel my heart start to trembling whenever you’re around.”

They’re both giving it all they’ve got by the time Harry loudly exclaims the line, “I’ve just got to
have your baby.”

Louis stops dead, a laugh lingering at the corners of his mouth as Harry continues with the lyrics
until Harry realizes he’s singing alone.

“Wot did you just sing?” Louis’ face is all scrunched in mirth.

“The song,” Harry’s entirely confused. His eyes dart to Gemma and Anne. It’s disconcerting the
way they’re grinning too, as if they’re in on whatever secret has Louis holding back laughter.

“Harry, it’s ‘I just got to have you, baby.’ Not your baby.” Louis tips his head back laughing as he
pushes the words out.

Gemma turns around in her chair as much as she can with her seat belt on, resting a hand on Louis’
knee and Harry can feel himself folding into himself, shoulders hunching, knowing he’s about to
be the butt of their joke. Any other day he would just laugh along with them, but he’s already
feeling a bit sensitive.

“You were gonna find out sooner or later, but Harry here has a bit of an obsession with all things
pregnant. Don’t let him near anything pregnant belly shaped, or it’s going under his shirt.” Gemma
has her gaze set on Louis and the look she’s giving him is like they’re spies relaying confidential
information even though Anne and Harry can hear as well.

And there it is. Harry is mortified. The music is still playing. The song has changed, however. It’s
all Harry can focus on as he looks to his knees waiting for Louis’ response. He knows it’s weird.
He’s just being silly for the most part, but he does really like pregnant ladies. There’s just
something cool about how they’re building a whole other person with only their body. That’s
superhero like, isn’t it?

“Hey Mate,” Louis says fondly using his finger to tug Harry's chin lightly in his direction. Harry
must have spaced out for a second. Gemma is watching them. She’s still smiley, so whatever Louis
said can’t be that bad.

“Sorry, what. Was um…”

“I said, that’s the cutest thing ever. Maybe while we're out we can find a watermelon, or somefing
so I can see it first hand.”

Gemma turns back towards the front clearly satisfied and starts humming along to the music.

“That’s not very sanitary, Lou. But if you’re lucky, I’ll show you with a balloon sometime. That
always looks the coolest.”

Louis tilts his head back again and laughs. The sound is magical to Harry’s ears. This is normal
Louis. The one he’s been trying to locate all morning. Harry knew something was off even as early
as last night. The call was good, but unexpected. Harry wouldn't have given it a second thought, if
Louis wasn't being a little different today as well. But this Louis, the one laughing at him, is being
completely himself and Harry can’t help laughing along too.

The rest of the day is one of the best and worst days Harry’s had in a while. They go shopping and
Louis and Harry do a change room movie montage fashion show that consists of mainly skirts and
dresses. There are a couple short ones Louis tries on that literally barely cover his bum and he
objects to leaving the change room for those, but he lets Harry have a peek. Once again Louis has
almost killed him, but this time from pure lust alone. The way Louis purposefully flutters his lashes
while looking over his shoulder and popping his bum is hilarious and life-alteringly sexy all at
once. Harry with only his face peeking in the curtain is hanging onto the material for dear life, not
sure if he is going to pass out from all the blood rushing straight to his dick, or from having no
breath left because he’s laughing so hard. It doesn’t help that his boxer briefs are the only thing
holding his quickly growing dick from standing at full attention. And they are struggling. The thin
skirt he has on must look absolutely ridiculous tenting over his groin.

Harry gets him back though when he steps out of the change room in a dress he would actually
wear, if he had somewhere to wear it. It’s black, short and flirty with a high waist and just a touch
of flounce in the skirt. The chest has the smallest, straight-edge sweetheart cut to it. And he has to
admit his tits do look great. Above that to the neck, as well as the three quarter-length sleeves, is a
black polka-dotted sheer material, banded with a darker black slight frill at the elbows, neck and
shoulders. He wore his hair down when they left because, well, Louis gave him little time for
anything else, but he also knows Louis likes it loose. It’s such a puffy lion’s mane after pulling so
many dresses over his head. When he opens the dressing room door, though, it’s like that doesn’t
even matter because Louis’ mouth drops open in surprise. Even the cashier’s impressed, staring at
him from a clothing rack where she’s preparing items to be returned to the racks.

“Dear god, you’re gorgeous. Better legs than mine,” she mutters. Harry guesses the words popped
out without her permission given the look that crosses her face after she realizes she’s spoken
aloud. Then more confidently she states, “you need to buy that!”

“Honestly you do,” Louis agrees adamantly and even though Harry balks at the price Louis pushes.

“Louis, I work at a bookstore. I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Then I’ll get it for you. I have savings.”

“I don’t even have anywhere to wear it. It’s silly.”

“Too bad.” With that Louis looks to the girl who’s watching the whole display with obvious
interest. She gazes at them as if they’re baby animals at the zoo, like they’re the cutest thing she’s
ever seen. It’s almost surprising she’s not cooing out baby-talk, that’s how smitten she seems.

“I’m gonna buy this for 'im. Does he need to take it off or can you ring it up while 'e changes?”

She nods that she can help Louis without that actual garment as if confetti is bursting from her
chest and leads Louis to the cash leaving Harry alone in the change room surrounded by outfits and
apparently standing in his new dress. Everything happened so fast he can’t really wrap his mind
around it, but Louis just dropped almost three hundred dollars on him. On such a frivolous
purchase too. Harry doesn’t know how to feel. He knows he looks amazing, but that’s besides the
point, isn’t it? He doesn’t need someone to treat him like a pretty thing they can throw money at.
He’s being dramatic. He gets it, but the vibe from moments before is all off kilter again. They
were goofing around and having fun. Now he feels stupid and useless for not pushing back more.
For letting Louis buy him this stunning yet ridiculous piece of clothing. Who does that anyway?

He’s lifting the material over his head when he hears the rings on the curtain, that's keeping him
from being on display to the rest of the store, slide across the metal bar.

“Hello?” He asks, his voice slightly higher pitched than normal from the sudden rush of panic.

“Hi, handsome,” Louis responds in a sultry tone, pushing up against him and lifting the material up
and over Harry’s head and arms. Their eyes lock when Harry’s face is freed.

Taking even a stuttered breath is hard as Harry stares down slightly into the steamy gaze Louis has
set on him. Everything feels tense or charged somehow.

“We’re gonna get caught,” he manages to whisper out.

“That makes it all the more fun,” Louis grins back at him.

Harry’s stomach butterflies while his head screams no. Why all of a sudden is Louis reminding him
of Olly? Not his beautiful face that Harry wants to kiss badly, but his mannerisms. The
juxtaposition of the two is overwhelming.

Louis doesn’t catch his lips in a kiss like Harry thinks he will. Instead, he stops, face hovering
close to Harry’s. Louis is fully dressed while Harry stands in a pair of underwear, he’s thankful he
ran back to his room to grab before they left. Nothing like trying on clothes commando. Just the
idea of it is gag worthy.

“Harry?” Louis doesn’t have to say anything else. Harry knows his face is showing all of his
apprehensions. And that’s not an Olly thing to do at all. To care. Louis genuinely cares what Harry
is feeling. They’re not the same. Harry’s overreacting.

Harry closes the distance between them, kissing Louis like he’s an oxygen tank and Harry’s at the
bottom of the ocean—desperate and slow. Louis responds by pulling Harry tight to him, letting his
hand drift to his bum. Harry can feel how it fits perfectly in Louis’ hand. A throat clearing from
beyond the curtain stops them both immediately mid-kiss. Their faces are still close as they make
wide-eyed eye contact and hold their breath.

“Um,” tinkles the voice from the other side. “We have a one person per room policy.”

Harry’s sure he hears the cashier grumble as she walks away, “wish I had someone to share a
change room with. So hot and so obviously in love.” This makes him burst into a round of quiet
chaotic giggles. Louis watches him, stunned for a moment before he’s smiling a giant toothy grin
and hugging Harry around the waist.

Lunch is fairly uneventful. Louis is clingier than normal, but Harry doesn’t mind. At one point
Harry’s sure he hears Louis let out the smallest duck like fart ever and instead of being grossed out,
he kind of thinks it’s cute. For a minute he’s nervous that makes him weird, but then he imagines
the tiny little bit of air trying to squeeze through Louis’ glorious bum cheeks and the whole thing
just becomes even more adorable. In his mind, the air has eyes and a smile and is rainbow
coloured. The grin Louis is holding back doesn’t help. It’s as if he knows what happened and not
only is he completely unphased, he’s somehow proud of what he’s done. That can’t be right
though, can it? Maybe he thinks it was quieter than it was and is impressed with his stealth like
skills at flatulence, but Harry can assure him it wasn’t as stealthy as he thinks.

In the car on the way back to the resort, Gemma sleeps in the front seat while Anne focuses on the
road ahead. She’s not the best at night driving, something to do with the headlights of oncoming
vehicles. Harry offered to drive, but she thought it wasn’t a good idea with the rental car insurance
in only her name. Louis cuddles into Harry and even that feels off. Harry’s fine not being the little
spoon once in a while, but the way Louis clenches around him is almost suffocating. His embrace
from the other night was warm and close, firm, but malleable to any movement, or touch from
Harry. This hold is strong and unwavering. It makes Harry feel like he can’t even swallow properly
without Louis sensing it somewhere in his tense muscles.
Harry’s phone buzzes and they both notice. Normally Harry wouldn’t bother with it, but at the
moment it’s like a life raft offering salvation from Louis’ tight grasp.

“I gotta get that,” Harry says quietly to not disrupt Anne, or Gemma, wriggling away from Louis
and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He can see right away it was a mistake. Olly’s name is on the lock screen above a message that
reads, “babe, we need to talk.”

“So that’s still a thing, huh?” Louis pouts and for whatever reason it feels like one of the few
‘Louis’ things he’s done all day.

Harry doesn’t want that to make him happy, Louis’ petulant jealousy, but he’s so confused with the
two versions he’s been presented of the boy he thought he was starting to get to know.

“No. It’s not. Not really. I just figured it’s easier to know who’s messaging than not, if I were to
delete his contact.

“You could block him.”

Harry has a feeling he’s fish mouthing at Louis because he doesn’t know what to say. Gemma lifts
her head a touch, eyes opening slightly and says, “he can’t. He’s too nice for that. Detrimentally
nice.” Harry thinks maybe Gemma shoots Louis a look, but he can’t be certain and he can’t read its
intent.

Not long after, they’re pulling into an empty space in the lot and there’s a bit of commotion with
them all getting out of the car. Louis pulls Harry aside.

“Wanna come back to mine?” His face is tentative.

Harry takes that as a sign. “Um no. I’m… I think I’m gonna stay in tonight. Pretty tired.”

“You sure? It’s still early. Don’t let the dark fool you.”

“Positive.”

“Okay then.” Louis looks a little sad, but Harry can’t focus on it. He lets Louis plant a light kiss on
his cheek that makes his stomach flutter happily. It’s so confusing how he’s all bubbly excitement
and apprehension at the same time and it feels like Louis is too. He’s got those eyes right now, the
pleading ones that probably had his mom buying him candy at the store when he was little more
often than not. His hair is wild and pixie-like under his toque and his body looks good in a fitted
shirt and jacket not warm enough for the current temperatures. Harry wants to cuddle him and muss
his hair, but his brain is too overwhelmed, and he knows going back to Louis’ isn’t going to help
that at all.

“I’ll message you tomorrow, okay?” Harry pinches the fabric of Louis’ shirt in his fingers, just over
his tummy and tugs lightly.

Louis eyes the touch then glances back to Harry all sadness and pining for just a flash of a moment
as he nods his acceptance. He schools his face quickly and with a wave he turns wishing Anne and
Gemma goodnight.

Harry knows it’s a dick move, but he’s barely in the door when he texts Niall.

‘Hey are we friends?’

‘Course, Mate. Feels like I’ve known you my whole bloody life.’ Harry reads it in Niall’s accent
and his heart feels just a little bit lighter.

‘Will you come over tonight? I need someone to talk to.’

‘What’d Louis do?’

‘I dunno. Nothing. Bring your stuff. You can stay. There’s dinner in it for you.’

‘Fine. I can’t say no to free dinner. You know Louis’ is gonna be pissed, right?’

‘Come by whenever.’

‘Ok off at eight. I expect a feast.’

Harry messages Olly next. ‘Stop texting. We have nothing to talk about.’

‘Hazza I miss you.’

‘Stop.’

Harry pockets his phone and runs to his room to change into cozy clothes and hopefully shuck off
the weirdness of the day with his current outfit. He drops the bag with the dress Louis bought him
on the floor and lays on his bed. As he instinctively reaches for his phone, he realizes he has yet to
search Louis on social. He starts with tiktok. He finds Louis’ accounts easy enough since Niall
pretty much added him to all of his socials instantly after meeting him. Harry rolls his eyes over
Louis’ at - @tommosgotback. He can’t believe, one, he didn’t think to do this before and, two, how
thrilled Louis is with the attention he gets over his backside. For a second Harry thinks he should
be looking on Only Fans instead of tiktok, but, no, he’d rather not know if Louis has one of those
accounts. He finds mainly snowboarding videos as he scrolls. Some of the jumps Louis does make
the breath stop in Harry’s throat. He realizes he’s never really seen him in his element. These
videos weren’t shot on the main hills that’s for sure. There’s powder everywhere and the terrain is
much less manicured than anything Harry has ridden. After he gets through those, he watches a
few posts of Louis and the boys goofing off, then makes his way to insta where he guesses he'll
find the family stuff.

He's right. The videos are loud and adorable, full of Louis and his sisters, Harry guesses. His mom
is in them too. She’s pretty and she looks like she’s got a sweet disposition, maybe less sass than
her son. Harry catches himself smiling at his phone like a dope over the wholesome footage. Louis
musses the hair of a teenaged girl with big blue eyes, who swats at him to leave her alone. He can
see why Louis won Gemma over so quickly, he knows sisters and he’s probably missing his own,
if his family is as close as the short clips of them interacting suggest.

Harry finally drags himself off the bed for a quick shower, feeling like his brain is oatmeal from
too much phone time. When he’s out again and his mood is a little lighter for it, he pulls on comfy
joggers and an oversized sweater, then clips his hair with a fat purple clip that closes like a set of
teeth. The modern alarm clock on the bedside table shows that he’s managed to kill a couple hours
since they got home, but he’s still got a couple more before Niall will be over. He grabs a half-read
paperback and goes on a mission to find Gemma and Anne.

They’re both cuddled in front of the tv, and Anne turns her head when Harry enters the room.

“We thought we lost you,” she smiles over at him.

“Just needed a minute. Thoughts on dinner? I kind of promised I would feed Niall.”
“Oh? Is Louis coming back too?”

Gemma perks up at this while Harry gets an uncomfortable feeling in his low belly.

“Um not tonight.”

“But he said he wasn’t working?” Gemma comments offhandedly.

“He’s not, but I wanted to talk to Niall… alone.”

Gemma squints at Harry, as if she’s trying to locate his thoughts straight from his brain. It’s
unsettling, but Anne, who knows her son well, just smiles and says, “how about we make fajitas.
That’s always fun and I think we have everything we need in the fridge.”

“Perfect and nachos? Niall might look small, but can he eat!” Harry doesn’t wait for a response as
he looks in the fridge and cupboards to see what kind of a feast he can pull together.

**

Niall’s not sure how he managed to get out of the apartment with Louis stuck to him like glue on a
popsicle stick. He didn’t lie because that would be wrong on too many levels, but he also didn’t tell
the truth. To Louis’ incessant questions about his plans, Niall simply responded with “seeing a
mate” which of course Louis had countered with a jealous “you have other friends than us?”

Niall literally had to shut the door on the lad and the forlorn face he had gotten as he did almost
broke Niall’s heart in half. But it was Louis that likely caused whatever it is that Harry needs to talk
about and, really, he’ll thank Niall one day for not letting him fuck everything up.

Niall might be a romantic, but he was certain about Harry and Louis from the very first moment
Harry’s car drove by. It was the way Louis’ eyes lit up at the boy in the back seat, whose head was
tilted to the side, mouth wide as he let out a guttural type rock scream after belting out the chorus
along with the female country singer that could just barely be heard under his deep voice.

Niall knew that look. It was Louis’ excited face. The one he got when taking on a particularly
challenging hill. He hadn’t ever seen Louis direct it at a person before, though. Not like this. Louis’
eyes sparkled at his friends. They made people easily fall in love with him, but this look. This was
Louis being intrigued. That’s why Niall’s been pushing so hard to make this work. Why he said yes
to Harry tonight and why he’s lying, but “not lying” to one of his best friends, who would likely
kill him if he knew where he was actually going. Because the thing is even though Louis is trying
to do what he thinks is “right”, there is no getting between him and something he finds intriguing.
No hill, no book, no adventure and Niall has a feeling no Harry either. Once the dopamine is
flowing, he’s hooked. He literally spent three days with only minimal pee and food breaks trying to
beat a video game he’d been obsessed with last year. Niall remembers when they were “just”
twitter friends how often he would DM the other boy to remind him to feed himself and shower.
He has a feeling the showering did not actually occur though. So, yes, Niall knows he’s a romantic,
but in this instance, he doesn’t think he’s going overboard in his view that Harry is special and
good for Louis. Louis who always seems so lonely even when surrounded by all his friends. Niall
knows what that feels like and even though he hasn’t met his own special someone, he’s damn well
sure he’s not letting Louis’ person get away.

He's greeted by Harry swinging open the door to the cabin and pulling him into a friendly hug
before he has even knocked. See special.

Niall can’t help, but chuckle at the other lad. His big green eyes wide and innocent, probably
similar to his own if his weren’t blue and didn’t have that boy next door mischief in them. He slaps
a hand on Harry’s shoulder to ground him, “alright, Mate?”

“Fajita’s first.”

At that Niall hears the sounds of something frying and smells food in the air. “Never gonna say no
to food.”

“It’s veggie tonight,” Gemma states as she stirs some peppers and onions in the frying pan when
the boys saunter to the kitchen.

“I’m on cheese duty,” Harry grins taking his place at the counter in front of a shredder and a pile of
cheese.

“Don’t mind, if I do.” Niall pinches a clump of the shreds with his first two fingers and thumb and
plops them directly into his mouth while Gemma swats at him over the fry pan.

“No Louis for real then?” She asks hesitantly eyeing Harry but directing her question to Niall.

“Nah, he was tired tonight.”

“Right. Tired.” Gemma rolls her eyes.

Harry sighs, “Fine we can talk about it, but only while mum’s in the bath. I don’t want her
hearing.”

“Wait Anne’s in the…”

“Shut it, Niall!” Harry interrupts while Gemma makes a face to show that she also finds the
comment icky.

“Okay okay. Joking.”

“So, what did Tommo do?”

Harry’s focus is on the cheese grater as he slowly takes the block of marbled cheddar across the
fatter-holed side. His voice is quiet when he finally goes to answer, peeking at Gemma just before,
like he’s feeling a little silly, or embarrassed by whatever it is he needs to tell them.

“Go on. Out with it,” Niall urges.

“He’s just been different since we… um….”

“Oh… this is about um-ing. Niall take the spoon. You’re in charge. I’m here if you need me,
Harry, but I think it might be better if we let Niall field this one.”

“That’s what I was trying to do, but you wouldn’t let up!”

Gemma raises her hands in surrender as she backs out of the kitchen and then jokingly runs up the
stairs to give Niall and Harry a little space.

Niall feels bad for Harry. The lad's head is down focused on anything, but Niall's face, so he jumps
in in an effort to put him out of his misery sooner rather than later. “Ok so he's been different? And
you think it's got something to do with you hooking up? I didn’t get that impression from him. Not
that he said much about it. He’s not a kiss and tell kind of lad, but he didn’t need to talk about it, if
that makes sense.”
“Oh gawd. Does that make me the weird one?”

“No! Not at all. He seemed really happy, Harry. I mean obviously you’ve both got stuff on your
minds, but I don’t think his is to do with that.”

Harry’s whole face flushes red. “I just… I wasn’t very… I didn’t…hmph.”

“You couldn’t get it up?!”

“No! It wasn’t that.” Harry rolls his eyes. “I normally work harder to um make sure the other
person is happy.”

Niall is thoughtful as he stirs the veg turning down the heat just a tad, so they don’t burn.

“I have no idea what Louis likes in bed, but whatever you did, or didn’t do he came home grinning
from ear to ear, so whatever you’re worried about, it has nothing to do with your... erm…
performance.”

“He was so weird today. Just over the top and like not how he’s been the other times we’ve hung
out. Even when he didn’t like me, he wasn’t like this.”

“Ok for one thing, he never didn’t like you. And two, go easy on him. Louis can sometimes be a
bit…. thoughtless. Not in a mean way, just in a truly unintended way.”

“Niall, he bought me a $300 dress just because it looked good on.”

“Hot. Can I see?” Niall gives Harry a wink before he continues, “but seriously if you’re really
worried about the sex thing, or anything else, talk to him. He’ll be honest. Oh, and I’ll stay for
dinner and to hangout, but I can’t stay the night. Louis will flip.”

“Niall, you’re straight! He doesn’t let his friends have friends? Come on.”

“He looked really sad when I left, Mate. I can’t do that. What else did he do that’s got me ‘ere
instead of him?”

“He just wasn’t acting himself. I can’t explain it, but you know how usually he’s a bit flirty and it
feels like he’s up to no good, but like in a good way?”

“Yeah, that’s Louis.”

“Well, there was none of that. It was almost like he had some kind of inside joke that I wasn’t a
part of, or too much a part of without knowing it. He was being all clingy, but it felt forced.”

Niall takes in the other boy who’s plucking bits of cheese that are stuck to the grater and dropping
them into the now huge pile on the plate in front of him. The top of his hair is pulled into a clip and
his cute little dimpled face is scrunched in a look of consternation. He’s fucking perceptive that’s
for sure. And Louis has definitely gotten himself in a pickle, again. Niall just hums in response
because he doesn’t know what to say back that isn’t a lie. He hopes his expression isn’t giving
away more than he wants to show. He has literally zero skills when it comes to poker face.

“I mean there was the one thing that was kind of funny. Weird, but funny.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall leans in truly excited to hear more.

“He farted in front of me. And I’m only telling you because it was like he tried to do it. Like he
was proud of himself.”
Fucking Louis! Niall can’t help the laugh that explodes from him. He actually did it. Niall was sure
he wouldn’t be able to pull that one off. Louis’ farts are always silent, but deadly and Niall warned
him he’d probably shit his pants if he tried to sneak one out that Harry could hear.

The tension in the room clears with Niall’s amusement, almost as if the sound of it worked like
glass cleaner on a dirty window. Harry’s face brightens too. Niall doesn’t want to bring him back
down again, but he needs to do something to fix Louis’ mess—like usual.

“I’m gonna let ye in on a little secret about our Lou. He’s not as confident as he seems, and he
spends a lot of time in his head. Don’t take it personally. Just be you and he’ll right himself out.
Also maybe don’t big me up so much in front of him. I know it’s hard. I am perfect and all… but
the jealousy is real with that one.”

Harry gives a slight eyeroll, but their conversation is dropped as Anne greets Niall on her way
down the stairs. And Niall for not the first-time notices just how good looking she is, for
someone’s mom that is.

**

Their couch is old. Louis has never really noticed before, but with his hand cradling the neck of his
sweating beer bottle and his eyes downcast to his legs that are sort of folded underneath him, he
takes stock of the weathered material fraying in spots. Niall got in not long before and seemed to
know what Louis needed the second he walked through the door. He had plopped down two beers
and pulled out his guitar. The light reflects off of it every so often as he strums away and shines in
Louis’ eyes. Louis is unfamiliar with the song he's playing. It feels a bit sad even though he’s not
singing so Louis doesn’t know for certain if it’s the song, or maybe it’s just him. He hasn’t heard
from Harry since he left him earlier. And of course, he should be happy his plan is working, but
he’s not. The point wasn’t his happiness though, it’s Harry’s. So, if Harry thinks Louis is a giant
weirdo who sneaks out farts and smiles about them, then all the better.

“You ‘ungry?” He asks Niall. He forgot to eat dinner and his stomach makes a growling noise to
alert him of the fact.

“Nah, had a big scoff at Harold’s,” Niall’s face instantly blanches, and it makes Louis feel like a
knife is ripping through his insides.

“You were at Harry’s?”

“Don’t look at me like that. He just needed someone to chat to. A friend.”

“Why couldn’t he talk to Gemma. They’re close.”

“It wasn’t a Gemma conversation.”

“What the fook does that mean?”

“Come on, Louis. Drink yer beer and listen to this pretty tune I’m playing you, alright?”

Louis huffs, but there’s not much else he can do aside from taking Niall’s advice. None of this is
his fault anyway, but it doesn’t mean this little hangout doesn’t hurt Louis heart and his pride any
less. It’s as he’s tilting the bottle to his lips that he sees his phone light up and the shock of it stalls
his brain, so the bottle hits him on his tooth instead. Beer dribbles out of his mouth and to his chin
as he corrects himself.

“Fuck.”
He shakes his head at Niall’s chuckles. He’s still messing around with his guitar, but it’s so second
nature that he can easily look up to see the trail of beer Louis is sopping off his face and patting
into his shirt.

“You’re so gone for him Mr ‘How to Lose a Harry in However Many Days’.”

“Eighteen. Eighteen days. Well seventeen now that today is basically over.” The words seem to
come out on their own with little thought because Louis is wholly focused on picking up his phone
and reading his new text.

“He’s asking what I’m up to.”

“So…. tell him.”

Louis swallows a lump in his throat and types back, ‘Beers with Niall. You?’

‘Baking show with Gem’s and mum.’

‘Not the new episode!’

‘No, we said we’d watch that one together.’

‘Cool. Cool. So what’s up?’

‘Did you wanna talk? Like on the phone?’

‘Okay give me five. Can I chew in your ear? Forgot to eat.’

‘Gross and okay.’

‘Alright, Harold. Five minutes it is.’

Louis jumps up immediately after sending the last text and scrounges the kitchen for something to
turn into a sandwich. A sloppy concoction of meat, mangled tomatoes and sauces will have to do.
He grabs a bag of half-eaten potato chips off the counter and heads with his beer to his room, Niall
grinning and watching the whole process like the happy little cherub he is.

Louis sets himself up on the bed, food on his chest, beer resting against his body and legs long
crossed at the ankles. He hits the call button by Harry’s name.

“Hi” Harry says cautiously after one ring.

Louis sips his beer wishing Harry was there beside him.

“Hi back. How was the rest of your day?”

“Good. Full. Had so many fajitas.”

“So that’s why the human dump truck just declined food for possibly the first time in his life.”

“Oh uh… he told you.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. It’s fine.”

“Well, of course it’s fine. You don’t own us. We’re allowed to be friends.” And, apparently Louis
is getting better at making Harry hate him without even trying.
“I know –“

The line is quiet aside from Harry’s somewhat stilted breaths on the other end. Louis feels the
tension but takes a bite out of his sandwich anyway to appease the rumbling of his tummy.

“What was up today? Was it the sex. Was I bad lay?” Harry spits out the words so quickly Louis
almost doesn’t catch what’s being said.

“Wot?” A piece of tomato falls out of Louis’ mouth and lands on his shirt. He lets it sit there.
“Why would you- How? For starters, no. You’re amazing. What would make you even question
that? Did you not have a good time?” He finally plucks the tomato of his chest and plops it on his
plate, setting the plate to the side of him.

“I did. Really good. It’s… nevermind.”

“Not a chance, Harold. Tell me.” Louis wipes at his mouth focused on Harry, any thoughts of
hunger, or anything else completely gone.

“I guess I've always been good at sex. Like I make an effort to be good. Not to be weird, but it
seems to be what the guys I’ve been with like about me. Um so when I didn’t do much for, you
know… you, I thought maybe you thought it was boring. Or um I was boring.”

Louis has never understood the expression seeing red until this very moment. He has a temper, but
he doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite this riled up over a simple statement. Who has Harry been with
that could possibly only like him for the sex? Yes, he is undeniably gorgeous, but it’s his
ridiculous, quirky, clumsy, but charismatic self that people should love him for.

“You there?” Harry asks. Louis doesn’t want to make this worse, but he needs a minute to let his
angry thoughts settle.

“Yeah, I’m here. It sounds to me like you’ve been with some absolute knobheads. And if they
couldn’t see how great you are aside from the sex, that’s on them. But, to be fair, it was
spectacular.”

“It was?”

“Yes, and before I tell you why, you need to listen to me. Are you listening, Harold?”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“I wanted to have sex with you because I like you. The way you’re clumsy as fuck, but you still
attack every hill like it doesn’t matter. How you laugh with your whole body and how you laugh at
practically everything I say. I like that a lot.” As if on cue Harry lets out his typical bolt of laughter
followed by a quick succession of hahahaha’s. It makes Louis feel all gooey when he can get this
reaction from him, especially by complimenting him. He thinks maybe Harry doesn’t know just
how great he actually is, which is maddening. “Those ridiculous faces you make and how
sickeningly sweet you are, but I also love that you’re bit of a shit too just no one believes it because
you’re so cute.”

“You know all that about me already?”

“Course I do.” Louis kind of wants to know what Harry likes about him, but the point isn’t for him
to be liked, is it. Quite the opposite. He’s not gonna be another fuck that makes Harry feel like shit
though. That’s for certain. He honestly doesn’t get how anyone could.
“And for the sex, it was hot that you were so vulnerable. Felt like you trusted me. Like I could do
whatever I wanted and what I wanted was to make you feel good.”

“I liked that too. How you were in charge. It was nice.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean it gets tiring being the one who really works for it sometimes.”

“I bet.”

“So, you said you wanted me to feel good, but did it… for you?”

“Did it feel good for me? Fuck yeah. That position, Harold, easy access with my hands to your
fucking gorgeous dick and the best pair of tits I've laid my eyes on, plus I could reach that spot on
your neck and stick my face in your curls AND I had you all tight around me, grinding into me.
How could that not feel good?”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

Louis can tell Harry’s smiling even though he can’t see his face. The happy playfulness is back in
his voice.

“When I put it any way it’ll be good, or when you put it any way. That’s also on the table.” And oh
shit. He hadn’t planned on having sex with Harry again. Not if he was still doing his “how to lose a
Harry” plan. It just feels devious. The change room thing earlier had been a bit of a misstep, but he
couldn’t help it after seeing Harry in that dress. He’s not sure if he’s ever gotten so hard, so fast,
ever in his life. Harry was literally the prettiest thing he's ever witnessed and the way he owned
that piece of clothing, like he knew just how good he looked, that might have been the best part.
But back to the issue at hand, either Louis kills the plan entirely, or parks it for now because he has
a feeling sex is going to happen no matter how hard he tries to avoid it. And with Harry all
concerned that Louis didn’t like it when he fucking loved it, avoiding it seems like the very worst
thing Louis can do. Either way, the whole making Harry hate him is for Harry’s benefit anyway.
To save him from being a complete depresso like Louis plans to be in less than three weeks. So, if
he resurrects the plan later, it wouldn’t be that awful, would it?
 Chapter 15
Chapter Summary

TW - some disordered eating mentioned, but briefly and doesn't go into detail.

Everything is white the next morning. Harry had left his curtains open yet again and the fluffy
chaos beyond stuns him. He can’t remember the last time he saw this much snow. The frenzied
way it swirls in the air makes seeing the hills and trees beyond almost impossible. His phone’s
ringing and he grabs it quickly to avoid it waking everyone else up. The sun’s just cresting the
horizon; Louis is starting to make a tradition of being an extremely early riser.

“Lo,” Harry says, shortening his greeting to one syllable because hello just seems too hard to get
out after so little sleep.

“Babe, get up. It’s a snow day. Ed nicked us some snowmobiles. We’re gonna ride the real ‘ills!”

“Sorry, Lou. I need more info.”

There is so much excitement in Louis’ voice it’s practically making the phone vibrate. “The big
hills, Harry! I had a buddy that used to take me, but the boys haven’t been yet. They’re absolutely
buzzing.”

“A buddy, huh?”

“Yes, Harold. Stop being jealous. You know what it does to me and we don’t have time for that
now. Get some warm clothes on and get over here.”

“Well we both know I can’t ride those hills.”

“Yeah, you can chill with Zayn. He’s good on a board, but this shit’s too much for even him.”

“The tiktok ones?”

“Are you creeping me, Curly?”

“Ok watch it, Tommogotback.” Harry teases in response to Louis’ use of the name he hasn’t heard
since he first arrived.

“When you got it flaunt it, Sun.”

“Hanging up on you.”

“Fine, but I expect to see your curly head at my place in twenty.”

In just under an hour, they’ve managed to wrangle everyone together and pair up for the ride.
Harry’s hanging onto Zayn, arms tight around his waist, with the constant pelting of wind and
snow making his face burn. He can’t see an inch in front of him, but Zayn seems confident in his
driving. Niall and Louis are in the lead since Louis is the only one that actually knows where
they’re going. Liam and Ed trail behind, taking the middle spot. They’d done it this way for
safety’s sake. Louis and Niall will tackle the riskiest slopes while Ed and Liam will also be
boarding, but not quite at the level Niall and Louis plan on and Harry and Zayn are only spectating.
It made sense to stick with the person each would be spending the day with for the ride to and from
the hills as well. Apparently, accounting for people in the blizzard like conditions is super
important. Harry had never heard Louis harp on anything before, but the speech he gave them
before they left had Harry feeling like he was about to get a scolding. He was only slightly
concerned with how hot he found the whole thing. If Louis only knew he was barely listening
while he sat there, but instead imagining Louis swatting at his bum with a ruler, well Harry has a
feeling they wouldn’t have made it out of the apartment because the scenario he imagined might
just have come true.

The lie Harry had told when he left the house was more of a vague representation of the truth than
an actual falsehood, but he didn’t want his mum to worry. The simple statement of "going to
Louis’" would have to suffice because once she heard the slopes of the main resort were closed due
to too much snow to groom them properly, she’d have tackled Harry to the ground before letting
him head out anywhere that involved going up a mountain. As Zayn whips across the snowy
landscape, he’s thankful once again for the slight deceit. He can just picture his mum a ball of
nerves at the idea of him doing exactly what he’s currently doing.

Tucking his head down so his mouth is covered by his scarf, he’s also glad he remembered to
bring his inhaler. The wind feels like it’s literally ripping the air from his lungs when he accidently
breaths straight into it. The snowmobile begins to slow and Zayn pulls it over to a spot the other
boys have parked at. It’s still really hard to see much of anything.

“I’m a better driver than Louis, aren’t I?” Zayn’s all big brown eyes and a huge grin.

“Don’t answer that, Harold.” The way Louis struts over is so very appealing. Harry can’t see any of
his body in all his snow gear and yet, that swagger he has is unmistakable. He walks straight up
into Harry’s space lifting his own goggles and quirking a brow. “Your cheeks are all pink.” He
smiles and touches a dimple with his snowy glove.

Harry just grins because when Louis is cute and touchy like this, he finds it hard to formulate
words.

“Ready to see me action?” Louis scoots even closer to ask, one corner of his lips lifting into a
teasing smile.

Harry curses the English language for not having more words because with all the poetry he
knows, he still can’t think of any way to describe how perfect Louis looks when he teases him like
this. He kicks at the snow, feeling his grin get wider. He’s sure that his embarrassing amount of
adoration for the other boy is clear in his eyes. It’s ridiculous that even in the middle of a raging
snowstorm Louis can make him feel like the inside of a grilled cheese, all gooey and warm like he
imagines it must be between two pieces of fried bread.

“Ok fella’s I’m right here,” Zayn chimes in.

But Louis doesn’t listen. Instead, he takes Harry’s jaw in his gloved fingers and lightly pulls him
into an easy kiss. His lips are cold and plush. The taste of candy present when the tip of Harry’s
tongue runs along Louis’. The sweetness is probably leftover from sugary breakfast cereal Harry
guesses. Then Louis pulls away with a smile and pushes Harry’s head with his giant gloved hand
as if he’s playing with a puppy before leaving it in the house alone for the day. And in a way it’s
kind of like that, Harry thinks.

“Liam,” Zayn calls. “Get over here and kiss me. Harry and Louis are trying to make us look bad.”
“Louis!” Liam eyerolls, but he steps out of his board to walk over and give Zayn a quick peck on
the lips.

“Thanks, babe,” Zayn swats Liam’s ass making Liam look over his shoulder and wink as he walks
away.

“Alright, Zayn. Number one job is to keep ‘the Harry’ safe. That includes keeping an eye on those
Bambi legs in case he tries to walk anywhere and takes a wipe out,” Louis calls and waves as the
four of them begin to trudge up to the top of the hill.

“Heeeeeeey,” Harry says futilely. Louis definitely can’t hear him.

“This is where those quad muscles come in handy, hey?” Harry decides he might as well start up
some kind of a conversation since he and Zayn will be together all day. And honestly, he’s excited
for the time. He really enjoys Zayn’s company even though he hasn’t had much of it up ‘til now.
He’s just so chill. And there’s something in those brown eyes that makes Harry want to get to know
him better.

“Gawd, I bet he’s so good at riding it. Think of the stamina and like dexterity.”

“Zayn!” Harry cackles.

“Oh right. Right. I guess you would know.”

Harry punches him in the arm. “Can we please talk about something else. Anything else?”

“Ooooooh! So, he hasn’t ridden it yet?”

“Wow, when you get chatty, you get real chatty don’t you?”

Zayn cackles, “Alright what else do you want to talk about then?”

“Well, not to pry, but I’ve been wondering about you and Liam. All sorted?”

“Hmmmm. I think so. I meant to apologize. Sorry you ended up in the middle of all that.”

They’re both sitting on the same snowmobile. Zayn’s turned around, so they’re face to face, but the
blizzard whipping around them means they keep having to duck their heads to avoid snowflakes to
the eyes.

“S’alright. I still don’t get it, but…” Harry’s sentence trails off as if he’s completed it and they sit
in silence for a moment. Zayn seems to understand what Harry's getting at.

“They’re absolutely insane,” Zayn nods to where the other boys have trekked. They're a good
portion of the way up the hill.”

“Fearless.”

“Senseless more like.”

They both chuckle at that. Looking up again, they have to fight against the white that makes it
almost impossible to see the flat area where the other four will take off from. The boys are merely
grey shapes in the distance.

“So how exactly does this work?” Harry asks.

“The boarding?” Zayn thumbs in the direction of the hill. “They’ll ride down to the spot we all
agreed on. We’ll go pick them up on a couple of these babies two at a time, so no one is ever left
alone.”

“Should I be worried? Is this very dangerous? After Louis’ speech and now you, it sounds like
maybe I should have stayed in bed.”

“On a normal day, ehh. Today, we shouldn’t even be out in this mess, but Louis and Niall were so
excited.”

“Really?” Harry swallows the lump suddenly in his throat.

“Don’t worry. Louis is super protective. He wouldn’t have brought you out here, any of us really, if
he wasn’t certain we’d be fine.”

“Is not really me I was worried about.”

“Ooooooooooh so you like him like him,” Zayn singsongs.

Harry pushes at his shoulder, a lighthearted, non-verbal way to say knock it off, but their
conversation is effectively stopped as one of the blob-like shapes that is the other boys takes off
down the hill. Harry holds his breath. As the person quickly gets closer, they can make out that it’s
Ed. He expertly maneuvers his way down the hill curving along with the terrain just a bit beyond
where Harry and Zayn sit.

Niall’s next, finding a few raised mounds to launch off of for small jumps on his way. Of course,
Louis has to take it one step further, coming down the side of the hill instead of the front. There’s a
significant drop off that Louis uses to literally flip in mid-air before landing and coming back
around the way the others had past Zayn and Harry, but at a good distance to keep everyone safe.
Harry holds his breath in literal awe the whole time. He doesn’t release it until Louis gives a little
wave as he speeds by. And even though the gesture makes him giddy, he can still feel his body
tense watching as Louis passes out of sight.

Liam goes last and seemingly not wanting to be outdone by Louis, he goes the same way down the
hill his friend just did. Whether it be less experience or just a miscalculation in his jump, both
Harry and Zayn can see it’s not going to end well and there’s nothing they can do about it. Zayn
gasps as Liam hits the hill, landing on his board for a moment before wiping out spectacularly.

“Shit!” Zayn mutters as Harry lets out an indecipherable concerned noise, something between a
squawk and a grunt. Zayn has turned face forward and already has the machine underneath them
started, about to drive up to Liam, when the other boy gets back up on his board and takes off
down the hill, rounding in front of them like Louis had.

“Almost had a heart attack,” Zayn says aloud, but Harry knows he’s not really talking to him. “Ok
get on one of those and we’ll head down to the meet up spot.” Harry follows Zayn’s instruction. He
can tell by his tone there will be little more instruction to follow. Zayn is clearly concerned and
wants to get moving.

The snow is heavy just to walk in. Harry can’t imagine how they’re boarding through it. He’s also
a little concerned how he’s supposed to see and drive the snowmobile he’s currently throwing his
leg over. His worries are proven valid as he starts up and trails behind Zayn down the slope. It’s
treacherous. He feels like he’s in some sci-fi movie, the snow comparable to stars in warp speed.
He’s almost mesmerized by it. The only saving grace, if he can call it that, is his need to keep
hiding his face from the onslaught of flakes.
The anxiety erupting through his body is different than the normal always on kind that generally
lingers in his stomach and chest. This is the kind that is very much interested in making itself
known, causing his limbs to tense and resulting in a heavy sense of dread that comes across as
nausea. It doesn’t help that Zayn seems to be driving pretty fast, likely to get to Liam quicker and
make sure he’s ok.

Harry doesn’t see it when it happens. He can feel it heavy in his body like lead weighing him down
though. The anticipation of something inexplicably wrong. Why didn’t Louis tell him he would
have to drive one of these things. Even knowing to bring goggles might have helped, but probably
not unless they had little windshield wipers on them. And even now the thought makes him smile a
little. Zayn’s not up ahead anymore, but it looks like the hill curves, so Harry follows along hoping
to catch sight of him again. It’s actually quite a sharp turn he realizes as he manages to pull the
handles almost as far left as they’ll go without toppling himself and the skidoo over. It’s then when
he notices it, the other sled veered off way to the right, on its side and wedged up to a tree.

“Oh, fuck! Zayn.”

Harry’s brain malfunctions. He’s not sure he’s adult enough to manage a crisis, but he’s the only
one here and of course he’s going to do it because someone needs to help Zayn, but it doesn’t mean
he’s not completely shitting his pants. He slows off the gas, heart hammering in his chest, but
remembers not to squeeze the break too hard, or too suddenly, avoiding potentially spinning out
himself, or worse having his breaks seize up, which he assumes is a thing.

He’s running over to Zayn the second he pulls the key from the console, or where Zayn should be
based on his snowmobile. Running is also a bit of a stretch. He’s trying, but the snow is to his
knees and it makes every step feel like a hundred.

“Zayn! Zayn!” He calls before he gets to the wooded area in case his new friend can hear him and
respond. Nothing. Honestly what was Louis thinking even suggesting this today of all days? Harry
had just assumed that it was safe. If it was Louis’ idea, Harry had no reason to question it. Even if
the day before had been a bit weird, he knew somehow that Louis was the type of person you could
trust. That protecting people just came second nature to him. Harry saw it in the way he took care
of his friends, Zayn, Liam, Niall, everyone he’d ever seen Louis interact with, really. And he felt it
in every little touch. Not just the ones during sex, although those counted too, but more so the soft
touches to Harry’s lower back when walking pretty well anywhere together, or Louis’ fingers
playing in Harry’s curls fondly and a little possessively every chance they were given.

Harry’s mind roars in the background while front and center his only thought is ‘find Zayn’ on a
continuous loop. He’s not on or around the snowmobile when Harry approaches it, but that seems
obvious even in Harry's flustered state. There’s no trail, or footprints directly around it, which
doesn’t make sense though until Harry looks up and sees Zayn’s leg in the distance. It's sticking up
in the air just off the ground and at an odd angle almost making it seem like his boot is facing the
wrong direction. Harry holds off the urge to vomit. Everything stills within him, his extremities
seeming to move on their own. Zayn must have flown a foot, or two from where his sled stopped.
The thick snow already creating a layer of white on his snowpants.

Harry is on his knees at Zayn’s side before he even realizes he’s moved. The other boy is out cold.
His leg doesn’t look as mangled from close-up, but it’s definitely not right. Harry’s not sure if he
should touch him, or move him, or what, but at least Zayn’s breathing. That’s a good sign. So,
Harry sits there, on his knees, mittened hand lightly holding Zayn’s gloved one while fluffy flakes
land on his head, jacket, legs, eyelashes—everywhere, effectively turning him into a mock-
snowman. He wipes at Zayn’s body as gingerly as possible to remove the snow build up. It’s a long
time before Zayn wakes up. Or it feels like a long time. Harry doesn’t realize he’s been crying until
Zayn flutters his eyes open, scrunches his brow and groans.

“Guess it’s pretty bad, then?”

Harry wants to hug him. He wants to pepper his adorable face with kisses, but instead he lets out a
wet noise before he can speak, “Can you move? Does it hurt?”

Zayn hefts himself up on his forearms, not without effort. “Hurts. Leg is fucked,” he winces and
grits his teeth while he pushes the words out. “Not gonna be able to ride back to the boys. You’re
gonna have to go without me.” He’s out of breath instantly and lets his helmeted head fall back into
the snow again.

“Not a chance of me leaving you.”

“Harry,” Zayn sighs. “If you stay here, the boys won’t know where we are. Who knows when
they’ll get to us.”

“And what if I leave you and some animal strolls by and wants to eat you for dinner? We’re not
that far from them, right? Louis will use his spidey sense and come get us.”

“So, we’re calling Louis a superhero now? Because if that’s the case I am fucked.” Zayn is in
obvious pain, but Harry hopes the teasing is a good sign.

“Am I wrong?”

“Nah, Louis will come through. You’re right,” Zayn scrunches his eyes in pain.

“So, what now? Should we try to get you closer to the trail?

“No. Please don’t. No offense, but you’re not the sturdiest of humans and I’m already hurt
enough.”

“Right. Right,” Harry agrees with a small laugh. “Is your back ok?”

“Think so.”

“Do you mind if I?” Harry gestures to his legs. “You’ll get cold on the snow like that.”

“Yeah, ok. Just be careful.”

It’s with as much care as possible that Harry shimmies his thighs under Zayn and positions him so
his upper half is resting comfortably off the ground. It’s going to be a nightmare for Harry to keep
still. He can already feel a slight twinge in his back from the awkward way he’s sitting on his
knees, but he needs to do something for Zayn so if this is it, then this is what he’ll do. His cheeks
are wet and burning a little they’re so cold, especially from where the tears snuck out and ran in
strips down to his chin. His nose is stuffy, and he’s never felt more anxious in his whole life, but
he’s aware this is nothing compared to what Zayn must be feeling. He shivers. He knows the shock
will wear off soon too and the pair of them will be popsicles from the stress-sweat/cold weather
combo, if Louis doesn’t get to them quickly.

“Do you feel up to talking?”

Zayn huffs, “You talk. I’ll listen. Need some kind of distraction. Leg hurts bad. And it’s so fucking
cold.”

“Yeah,” Harry cuddles his arms delicately around Zayn’s chest and begins to blather about
whatever he can think of.

It feels like hours pass that way. Harry doesn’t know how many because he didn’t bother to bring
his cell. Louis told him there’d be no signal and he’d figured better not to have it in that case. He
can picture it sitting on Louis’ night table exactly where he left it. The storm is still raging, a little
less where they are in the trees and his teeth chatter as he regales Zayn with another random story.

“There was this one guy I dated when I was fifteen. I mean dated is a strong word. We mainly
chilled in his basement and made out. What an absolute jerk though. I swear I’m drawn to the
worst type of guys. Not Louis, but anyway, this guy—Chris. He used to tease me because I still
had baby fat, love handles, a chubby face, that kind of thing. Made me so paranoid I went on all
these diets. It was horrible. And the stupid thing is I look back now and can see I was adorable. But
back then I was literally so worried about it.”

Harry looks down at Zayn who gave up asking questions a while ago and just makes occasional
grunting noises at Harry’s request for some kind of a response, so he knows Zayn’s still awake.
Zayn's eyes are huge and sad and Harry instantly regrets sharing this specific anecdote. Not
because it's too personal, but because the last thing he wants to do is make Zayn feel worse than he
already does. At this point though he thinks he has spieled off his whole very boring life story
while he clutches Zayn to him and is running out of options.

“What an ass,” Zayn stutters out.

“Mmmm he was. Probably still is.”

Harry’s actually beginning to doubt whether Louis is coming for them or not, when he finally hears
his accented voice floating through the trees. At first, he thinks the urgent sounding call for him
and Zayn is some sort of auditory mirage like in every movie, or cartoon with a thirsty person in
the desert, but when he hears Niall’s Irish lilt and feels Zayn perk in response along with it, he
knows that it’s real.

“Here!” Harry calls out. His legs have pins and needles and he’s not sure if he can move them, plus
he’s concerned with how much Zayn is shaking to even attempt to remove whatever heat he’s
supplying by propping him up. “Louis! Niall! We’re in here.” He yells this time as loud as he can.

The relief that courses through his body is overwhelming, when Louis, red faced under his goggles
comes storming through the trees. “Niall! Here. They’re in here.”

He falls to his knees beside them petting first Zayn’s helmeted head, assessing the damage and
then looking straight at Harry. “Are you hurt?”

“Just Zayn,” Harry manages to mumble. He’s a bucket of emotions and now’s not the time to let
them spill.

Louis bonks his helmet lightly off Harry’s. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Ok, Zayn, not much
longer. Li and Ed will be back any second with the rescue team. We sent them off with the
snowmobile.” He looks to Harry and continues, “Do you know where he’s hurt?”

“Just his leg I think.”

Niall interrupts from the edge of the treeline. “Louis? They ok in there?”

“Yeah, Niall, just wait there ok. Don’t want anyone to miss us when they come by.” He looks back
to Zayn. “Zayn, is that right? Just yer leg?”
Zayn nods, as Louis begins to unzip his own jacket and then unzips Zayns, tucking his body
around the other boy’s with as much care as he can. He maneuvers the material of their jackets so
there’s as little air getting in as possible.

“How’s Li?” Zayn asks shakily.

“Li? He’s fine. Worried, of course.”

“He fell. The last we saw of him before he went down the hill. Zayn was concerned.”

“Lots of that going around today. You sure you’re ok, Harold?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright not much longer then,” Louis turns his head to make eye contact with Harry while they
both hug tight, but not too tight, around Zayn. Harry can’t believe how the look makes his stomach
flutter even as numb and uncomfortable as he currently is.

And Louis is right. The engine noise of approaching snowmobiles breaks the silence that Harry
hadn’t noticed before when it was just him and Zayn in their little nightmare of a snow globe.
Niall’s voice comes next as he directs the team where to go, then there’s commotion everywhere.
Harry zones out a bit as Zayn is lifted from him and put on an insulated stretcher. Louis is talking
to him face to face, but Harry can’t catch his words.

“Am sleepy, Lou,” he manages to get out. Louis’ eyes go wide in response. Harry registers that, at
least, and then someone else says, “it’s okay. Probably the shock. We’ll get him to the medic
ASAP.” There are hands on him, helping him up and then he’s being told to lay down and being
wrapped in a blanket and zipped into some kind of orange thing that feels like a sleeping bag. He’s
happy it doesn’t cover his face. Instead, he sees Louis looming over him. He bends down to give
him the lightest peck on the cheek and Harry likes how warm it makes him feel, then he zips up
Harry’s jacket to cover his cheeks and nose. And, that’s all Harry remembers before he drifts off.

**

The dock under Harry’s feet is old and dilapidated. It’s also not covered in a sheet of ice or snow.
The water lapping it is not frozen either. Louis stands beside him on the edge and they’re debating
whether they should jump or not. The water is a murky amalgamation of colours—green, blue,
black. Detritus floats on and beneath the surface. No matter how much Harry wants to be a
mermaid, he’s scared shitless of what lays ahead of him. There are most certainly creatures in that
water and he won’t be able to see them, or know they’re there. Big ones too. He tells Louis as
much.

“S’okay, I’ll protect you.” Louis responds.

“Lou, did I mention the big creatures?”

“Are you calling me small, Harold?”

“No. You’re big. The biggest person I know,” Harry is dead serious because Louis might be in a
compact body, but there is nothing small about him.

Harry’s eyes pop open with a start. He’s in a twin size bed with stiff sheets and a flat pillow.
“You’re awake!” The relief on Louis’ face is evident.

“What happened? Where…?” Harry feels fine. A bit discombobulated as he takes in the small
room around them. “Zayn! Crap. How is he?” The events of what he’s assuming is still today flash
through his head.

“He’s okay. They had to take him to the hospital. Needs a cast for 'is leg. You were treatable here.
Gave you some meds for the shock. Could’ve been really bad though. We’re lucky it wasn’t colder
what with your asthma and all.” Louis looks at the floor as he explains, eyes only darting up to
Harry quickly then back down to his feet.

“Oh. What about you, Niall, Liam, Ed? Everyone’s good?” Harry can hear his voice get higher
pitched as he says each name.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Not cold enough for hypothermia, or anything like that. Just some tired legs
from climbing back up that hill.”

Harry breaths a sigh of relief.

“Might not want to relax so soon,” Louis rubs the back of his own neck awkwardly. “Your mum
texted and I had to tell her what happened. She’s on her way and she seemed pissed.”

Oh, fuck. This isn’t going to be pretty. “You might not want to be here when she gets here. My
mum can get a little mama bear when she’s angry.”

“S’okay. I deserve it anyway.” Harry can hear the crack in Louis’ voice and see his eyes getting
misty.

“What? I mean this wasn’t the best idea, but it wasn’t your fault either.”

“I feel awful. I literally always fook everything up. When I thought you were ‘urt…” A snuffly wet
noise follows as Louis wipes at his face.

“I don’t think you fuck things up.” It’s all Harry can think to say and it comes out so soft and quiet
it surprises even him. Because even though he’s the one that’s in the medic room, he thinks it’s
Louis who’s hurting more.

Anne storms in the room at this moment with a nurse at her heels directing the way. Harry can tell
she’s about to lay into Louis until she sees the state of him. She stops instead, takes three deep
breaths and walks over to Harry planting a kiss to his messy hair.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” she says sternly, tilting his head so she can look him in the
eyes.

“Mum, you do know I’m an adult, right?”

“Don’t you get sassy with me. You’ll always be my baby. Now give me a hug.” Harry happily
obliges and when his mum gets him close, she says quietly just for him, “you text me when you
get back to Louis’ and every hour after that.” If there’s one thing about Anne that is always true,
it’s that she knows how to give support and space. She might be out of her mind with worry, but
now that she’s seen Harry, he can tell that’s enough. That’s why she’s such a great mum, after all.
He gives her a peck on the side of her head and agrees to her terms.

“Alright then,” she gets up and strolls across the room to where Louis is standing timidly and
wraps him in a hug. Harry can hear the wet sob that escapes him and see the way his arms tighten
around Anne’s back as he squeezes further into the embrace.

“Thank you for taking care of my perfect boy.” Anne’s muffled voice says. They stay there like
that for a while, Louis’ sadness making Harry’s heart hurt. He knows his current pain has to be
about more than just today.

Louis releases Anne from the hug first and with a throaty laugh he says, “we better stop. Don’t
want to make Harry jealous.”

Anne cackles at this. A happy laugh that fills the room. She musses Louis’ hair and turns back to
Harry as she goes to leave, “you remember what I said.”

Harry nods and with that he and Louis are alone again.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to change from the gown they put him in and back into his own
clothes. Louis checks him out at the desk and bundles him tight before they make the short walk to
Louis’ apartment. Niall and Ed are napping on the couch when they get there. Ed’s head resting on
Niall’s legs. Louis makes Harry have a warm shower and gives him the pair of pj’s he’d worn on
his first stay there, a night that feels like so incredibly long ago.

It’s not late, maybe four in the afternoon at most. They’re whole catastrophe only actually a couple
of hours in total. Louis insists that Harry get cuddled in his bed before he goes to grab him
something to eat. He returns with two cups of instant noodles, hands one to Harry and clambers
under the covers next to him. They slurp away in silence, the sides of their bodies touching from
hip to ankle. They’d probably be even closer, but Harry’s accidental elbows to Louis’ side while
forking noodles into his mouth keep the other boy from sidling too close.

There’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” Louis calls taking Harry’s now empty soup cup and wriggling out of the sheets.

Liam pops his head in the room, looking worse for the wear. “Can I… um. Is it ok…. I um wanna
talk to Harry please.”

Louis gives him a hard look, “you’ll be nice?”

“Yes, of course! I mean… I want to apologize.”

“Harry?” Louis looks at him like he might crumple at the smallest thing, but aside from being sad
for Zayn and his hurt leg, Harry feels pretty fantastic. He’s wondering if they could pump him up
with whatever meds he got at the medics every day.

“Yeah, I’m good. Can you thank Niall for me if he’s awake too.”

“Thank, Niall?” Louis questions.

“For walking back up the hill with you. Am glad you weren’t alone.”

“You’re way too good, you know that?” Louis gives Harry that soft look he sometimes does. The
one that makes his insides feel like ocean waves, fluid and free, but driven by some external force.
The door makes a soft click when Louis leaves. Liam awkwardly shifts from one leg to the other.

“I uh should have done this before,” slow tears start to trickle from his eyes and Harry steels
himself, already having been on emotional overload that day. He pats the bed beside him and Liam
plunks down cuddling into Harry just a little. Harry wraps his arm around the other boy’s shoulders
as they begin to shake.

“Zayn told me what you did and I-“ there are some sniffing noises before Liam can continue. “I-
I’ve been such a dick to you. He’s… I love him so much, but I got confused. I’ve never loved
anyone before, you know. And, well, who can help loving Louis too? I got everything backwards.
It’s Zayn. It’s always been Zayn and when I saw him all hurt like that. I finally realized how
fucking stupid I’d been. I mean I love Louis, but not in the way I love Zayn.”

Harry pulls Liam tighter giving him a playful headbutt. “I can see how that could happen. Love
seems like it can be confusing…. And Louis is loveable. Such a flirt! Did you tell Zayn?” He
hesitates over his last question not sure if now’s the time to ask.

Liam cries heavier. The emotion growing with every word of his repsonse, “he said he knew. That
it was okay as long as I promise it won’t ever happen again. He’s too fucking good for me Harry.
I’m.. I’m…”

“You’re human. We all fuck up. We all get muddled sometimes. Zayn knows the real you, so if he
is okay about it, then just make sure it never happens again, like he asked.”

“You’re just like him. Too good.” Liam is snuffling and Harry reaches to what he assumes are
Louis’ wank-off tissues, grabbing a fresh one from the box.

“Nah, that’s not true.” He hands Liam the Kleenex and doesn’t bother to expand on his dismissal
of the other boy’s statement.

“I get why Louis likes you so much.”

Harry can feel himself flush. He doesn’t know what to say.

“He was really worried, you know. Today. We all were. You’re a good guy. Zayn said you
distracted him the whole time. From the pain. Didn’t know what he would have done without you
there. He told me to thank you like a thousand times. I think his words were get on my knees and
kiss your feet.”

The door had been creaking open during Liam’s last comment and Louis knocks lightly, “all good
in here.”

“Yes, good. Was just thanking your… er um… Harry.”

“Good lad. I think my Harry needs to relax a little now. Is that cool, Li?”

Liam nods, all brown eyes and still slightly pouty lips, like he knows he owes Harry more than the
simple words he’s given him, but he makes to leave the room anyway giving Louis a hug on the
way out. “We’re a bloody soap opera today, aren’t we?” He asks tilting his head and resting it on
Louis’ for a second.

“Innit always?” Louis teases back.

“Hopefully not anymore. The only tears from any of us moving forward better be rom com inspired
and that’s it.”

“I can get on board with that.” Liam nods solemnly at Louis’ happy agreement, sends both boys
one last apologetic look and closes the door behind him as he leaves.

Louis gives Harry a quick naughty grin, “Did I hear something about getting on his knees for you,
because I consider that my role and I take my duties very seriously.”

Harry laughs and flops his head back on the pillow letting out a sigh. “Today’s been absolutely
exhausting. So how much did you hear?”

“Just that last bit, to be fair.”

“You should talk to him.”

Louis crawls back under the sheets beside Harry, the snow outside making everything feel much
cozier. Funny how hours ago the snow was literally Harry’s most hated thing in the whole world
based on it trying to kill him and all, but now it's back to being the fluffy stuff that makes cuddling
up with Louis in a teeny bed all the more romantic.

“So,” he says squishing over a touch more. “We have all this time on our hands, what will we do
with ourselves?”

Louis cocks a brow, “what are you suggesting, Harold.” He fakes a prim accent that sounds even
more hilarious because of his usual one.

Harry squawks a laugh but pulls himself up on his elbow giving Louis his most alluring look. At
least he hopes it’s alluring anyway, he’s never tried it in front of a mirror, so he can’t say for
certain.

“I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I mean.” He’s impressed with this sudden bout of
confidence and is more than happy to see where it takes him. The fact that he’s realized he’s
incredibly horny even after everything that happened earlier, is a welcome treat. He leans in, so his
chest is over Louis’. Their eyes do that classic locking thing to gauge the others intent, plus it’s just
what eyes do isn’t it? Before a kiss especially, they sus out the situation and send a signal (after
looking in, say, a set of beautiful blue eyes with long lashes) to the brain which then sends it
onward, stopping at the heart, then stomach, before landing, in that tingly way signals do land,
right at Harry’s dick. And, the constant influx of these messages from his eyes to his dick is
overwhelming, like how Louis’ lips look so soft and expectant, or how his little nose is the perfect
amount of boopable. It’s too much.

Harry takes the leap. It’s not cool, or smooth. Nope. It’s eager, his lips on Louis’ and his tongue
quickly joining the fray. Louis is just as intense though. This isn’t the slow sweet kissing they’d
done last time. Harry is just realizing how much Louis must have been holding back to suit Harry’s
mood that evening because he’s currently meeting Harry’s movements with an equal amount of
fervour as Harry is giving. That’s the thing about Louis, Harry thinks, as his hands fumble with the
other boy’s shirt. He’s the type to read the room and know what every single person in it needs,
then figures out a way to give it to them, in all things, but Harry kind of loves how that translates to
sex.

The love bite Louis is sucking into Harry’s neck, has him pushing his hips down into Louis legs.
Harry wants to fuck him and he wants to fuck him bad.

“Lou,” he mumbles as Louis runs his hands under Harry’s shirt, playfully tweaking a nipple when
he reaches them.

“Yes, Darling,” Louis hums.

“I’d like to fuck you, if that’s ok.”

Louis smiles into their kiss. “That’s forward of you,” he hushes into Harry’s mouth running his
tongue along Harry’s front teeth and then his upper lip.”

“I think you like it.”

“Mmmmmm,” Louis agrees. You know what else I like?

“What?” Harry asks all breathy.

“These beautiful fucking teeth of yours. 'Oo even has teeth this fucking perfect. You’re like a
walking angel, or somefing with gorgeous kissable teeth and you don’t even know it.”

“Who says I don’t know it?” Harry grins pulling away slightly.

“Oh, you don’t fool me, Harold. I know you don’t see it.”

It’s so cheesy, Harry knows it, but it’s literally like he can feel his insides expand at the words, like
someone put mentos, sparkles and cola in there and the whole thing is erupting in a glitter bomb of
foam.

“Well, if you think I’m an angel now, wait ten minutes because I’ve got plans for you sir. Clothes
off bum up, please.”

The speedy way Louis first salutes Harry then jumps up, whips out of his clothes and gets back on
the bed as instructed, with his bum ready and waiting, is one of the more endearing things Harry’s
ever seen Louis do. That and the expectant look on his face as he turns to peep at Harry.

“Wot’s going on back there? We doing this?”

“Just enjoying the view for a moment,” Harry responds pulling his shirt over his head, but catching
the way Louis’ cheeks pink first.

“Don’t get lost in it. My arse is like the Bermuda triangle once you go in you never come out.”

“You are the most ridiculous human,” Harry laughs back fondly slipping out of the rest of his
clothes.

He can tell Louis is about to say something sassy back and in an effort to stop him, Harry rests a
hand on his low back, just above his bum and gets situated between his legs. “Did you have
something to say, Love?” Harry asks trying out Louis’ little saying to see how it feels rolling off
his tongue. Good. Maybe not as good, as what’s coming next, but pretty good. His lips hover over
Louis bum crack.

“Um nope. Nope. Not a thing,” Louis says in a strained voice. Clearly, the anticipation is getting to
him. "Just glad I took a shower when we got back."

Harry chuckles. He's not gonna prolong this, he’s been waiting to get between these cheeks for too
long. He gives a long lick feeling Louis’ whole body respond with a shudder almost instantly. He
does the same again and Louis lets out a quiet noise like he’s just tasted something he likes very
much when instead it’s Harry that has done. Harry does it again this time circling his tongue and
testing out figure eights at Louis’ hole. This gets Louis wriggling which Harry can’t help
responding to with a happy little moan of his own.

“I take it back. You’re not an angel,” Louis huffs into the mattress. “Too filthy to be an angel.”

Harry can’t help, but giggle at this and Louis moans loud at the vibration it must cause. This spurs
Harry on. He's pretty sure all the blood in his body is now in his dick and he needs something to
touch it. Anything at all would be fine. He takes hold of the side of Louis’ flank, drawing his bum
closer, and the way Louis clutches at the bed and rolls his toes over, body rocking in Harry’s grasp,
as he quickly dips his tongue in and out of Louis’ hole, tells Harry he should end this soon unless
he wants to make Louis come then and there. He continues in and out a few more times before
circling again, then taking another swipe up Louis crack. Louis' body has a mind of its own,
writhing this way and that, as Louis hangs onto the bed ferociously. Harry can tell by Louis' erratic
movements that he's no longer in control. He stills as Harry pulls away and plants a kiss on his
lower back.

Harry senses the effects of his efforts when he lets Louis' hip go and the other boy flops on the bed
tense and mushy at the same time. He’s making small guttural noises and his hair is all disarrayed.
He finally manages to rag doll his body onto his back, staring up at Harry with an intensity Harry
hasn’t seen from him yet. It’s enough to keep Harry’s eyes away from Louis’ dick, which is a feat
because, from a quick glance, he can see it’s beyond hard, all stout and with this stubbornness
about it that reminds him of Louis.

The urge to thwack himself on the head at how stupid this thought is hits Harry like a shovel of
embarrassment to his face. How on earth can a dick be stubborn? But he swears it’s there in his
peripherals taunting him. ‘Just try and make me come. We’ll see how that works for you.’

His eyes dart away from Louis’ and his throat emits a noise he didn’t know it could.

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asks perceptively as he aimlessly thumbs at one of Harry’s
laurel tattoos.

“Ehm not important.”

Louis digs his thumb into Harry’s torso slightly as if this will make him spill his guts and Harry
knows it’s only a matter of time before Louis gets his way, so he fesses up just to be done with it.

“You’re dick looks all stubborn. Reminds me of you. You know like how people have pets that
look like them. That’s you, but with your dick.”

The laugh that Louis lets out is loud and boisterous, so incongruous with the rest of his demeanour,
a lazy lustfulness that’s clear in the movement of his limbs, the backward tilt of his head and even
in the rise and fall of his belly.

“Why is it when you say just the most ridiculous things does it make me want you even more?”

Harry shrugs, “can I go brush my teeth? Is that weird? I just want to kiss you while we… and I um
get self conscious… not that you don’t taste good. You do. It’s just… well I would brush after
eating anything.” Harry ruffles with his hair feeling like an idiot, but Louis just grins up at him
placing a hand on his own dick and stroking lightly.

“I can keep myself busy. Oh, there’s a robe in the closet. Would rather my roommates didn’t get a
look of that glorious cock of yours. Have a feeling they might try to steal you from me.”

Harry loves the attention of Louis’ eyes as they follow him on his way to get the garment, but he
finds himself fumbling with the closet door because of them all the same. He’s finally wrapped in
the fluffy material and gives a quick look over his shoulder at Louis who’s sprawled on the bed
still touching himself. The sight makes Harry’s insides churn in the best way possible.

He’s quick with his teeth. Louis had actually given him an extra toothbrush after his earlier shower,
which, like most of the things Louis does for him, made Harry even more stupidly obsessed.
Catching a glance of his rosy cheeks and wild hair in the mirror, he stops for a moment to smile
goofily at his own reflection, feeling for once like it’s looking back at him exactly as he expected,
exactly as himself. With that thought he scoots back to Louis’ room to get back to the person who’s
been able to bring this more whole version of him to the surface.

Louis’ eyes are closed when Harry squeezes through the crack of space he’s allowed for when
opening the door. His body is completely on display, thin waist, thick cock, inexplicably tanned
skin peppered with tattoos.

“Wait for me,” he can’t help but whine taking in Louis’ scrunched features and the way his hips
rock rhythmically into his hand.

“Well then, get over here,” Louis grunts out, opening his eyes slightly to get a look at Harry.

Harry obeys because of course he does, grabbing the lube off the table and coating his fingers as he
slides between Louis’ legs. It doesn’t take long before Louis is grinding into Harry’s fingers and
pulling him close to let Harry know he’s ready for more. Louis feels so good around his fingers,
Harry’s certain he’s only going to last a second when he’s actually inside of him. Louis might be
loud any other time, but here with Harry his body speaks for him. The responsive way he arches
his back, or pushes into Harry’s touch makes Harry beam and he keeps a close eye on every
movement not to miss any cue to what Louis likes.

“Ready?” he asks as he slips his fingers out, rolls on a condom and aligns himself with Louis’ hole.

Louis nods and bites his bottom lip. Harry pushes in watching Louis’ teeth dig into the tender skin
even harder. He needs a moment when he’s bottomed out to take in what he’s feeling, Louis tight
around him, his body warm against Harry’s, but Louis’ fingers gripping his back remind him to
start moving again. He circles his hips as he thrusts, Louis pulling him tighter with the movement.

“Fuck, Harold, you have to teach me this move,” Louis grunts out.

“Happy to. It’s the Styles’ Special.”

The laughter that erupts from Louis has him clenching around Harry and Harry has to stop for
second to let them both settle.

“I plan on ordering this going forward. It’s my new favourite menu item.”

“Good.” Harry catches Louis lips in a kiss. “It’s one of my favourite things to serve.” He whispers
the words into Louis’ mouth as he gets back into his previous rhythm. He knows immediately
when he hits Louis’ prostate, Louis responding with a hushed, “Right there. Fuck, yessssss.”

Harry repeats the movement hitting the spot three more times before Louis’ fingers are gripping
his love handles hard, “gonna go.” His body judders and tenses before he comes. Harry can feel the
staggered pulses as Louis’ come splurts between them. He’s about to pull out, but Louis tugs him
back grinning tiredly at him, “go ahead. Finish.”

“It’ll be quick,” Harry responds eagerly, but he keeps his thrusts slow in an effort to not overwhelm
Louis’ in his post-orgasmic state.

“I could literally watch you do this all day. You’re so fucking pretty. How are you even real?”

“Just pretty?”
“No. Pretty and smart and quirky and so fooking loveable.” And of course, much to Harry’s delight
and chagrin, the word loveable is the one that seals the deal. His body gets that non-sensation/all
the sensations feeling and for a second he’s on autopilot floating in black air, in perfect nothingness
and then he’s coming back down with that sweet sense of utter release. He wants very much to
collapse on Louis, but he knows that wouldn’t be fair, so he pulls out, cleans himself and Louis up
(who watches on fondly) then flops on the bed nuzzling his head into Louis’ neck, breathing in
deep.

“You smell good,” he mumbles.

Louis kisses into his fluffy hair, somehow finding his scalp and leaving his face in Harry’s curls as
his breathing slows.

All Harry can think is today was a good day and given the circumstances he knows he should be
concerned with that assessment. He’s not though because he’s got Louis cuddled up to him and his
body’s still orgasm-tingly and nothing else outside of that matters.
 Chapter 16
Chapter Summary

Hi all! Hope everyone is well. Thanks again for sticking with me and this fic :)

Some exciting news, my lovely friend nurseflamingo (on aO3) has been helping me
edit this story for the past few weeks, which I am super thankful for. So for future
chapters and any rereaders, my misplaced commas, bad accents and other faux pas
should shortly be a thing of the past!

Also there are a couple small trigger warnings for this chapter:

Very very tame bondage

Consensual sex video

Oh! And thank you to my fic reading bestie, you know who you are, for giving me
feedback on this chapter and making me brave enough to post it. I appreciate you so
much ❤️❤️

Louis’ sneakers make a squelching sound as he plods his way to Zayn’s hospital room. The yellow
walls and beige linoleum are even more blah than they would be if they weren’t showcased in
fluorescent white light. He didn’t get to see much of Zayn the day before. Liam had been rightfully
selfish when it came to being in Zayn’s space after the accident, so Louis really only got to make
sure he was ok before he headed back to Harry’s side.

The guilt he feels is overwhelming. Zayn wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him and that knowledge
slows his stride the closer he gets to the door. He knocks lightly as he approaches and peeks his
head in. Zayn’s by himself, his cheek pressed into his pillow, head lolled off to one side, even
though he’s on his back. It doesn’t look like a particularly comfortable position, but his eyes are
closed, face relaxed, so Louis supposes it can’t be that bad. Light snoring fills the room and has
Louis debating leaving, but he knows he can’t. Instead, he plops in the open chair facing the bed.
It’s a pinky salmon colour and made out of some synthetic material that squeaks as he sits.

The sound, although not loud, rouses Zayn. Louis hadn’t fully focused on him yet, as if his eyes on
the other boy for too long would wake him up. Now that he can, he sees his leg up in a sling
hovering over the bed.

“Hey. Sorry I woke you,” Louis speaks quietly as if they’re in a library. He’s not sure why. He just
feels like he shouldn’t be too loud.

“No worries. Probably time anyway. Think I’ve been asleep all day.” Zayn groggily maneuvers in
the bed. It looks difficult with his leg as it is. He rubs his eye with the flat of his palm at the same
time.

“Any news today? Getting a cast, or…” Louis doesn’t want to mention the alternative, which is a
surgery the doctor thought might be necessary.

“Dunno. They need to do some kind of a scan, but they don’t have the equipment here and there’s a
wait list.”

“That sucks.”

“You’re telling me, mate.”

“So how long do you have to stay in here, then?” Louis scratches anxiously at his scalp. Realizing
what he’s doing, he purposely makes himself stop, pushing his fringe out of his face and balling his
hands by his pockets.

“I think just tonight. They’re being extra precautious, it being such a small hospital and all.
Worried I might have hit my head because I passed out there for a bit and want to monitor me some
more.”

“Smart. Smart,” Louis says distractedly, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. It’s focused on him now that the
other boy has made himself somewhat comfortable.

Louis can’t get over how awkward this all feels. He knows he has to broach the subject of his
apology, so he finally just spits it out, “Listen I’m so fucking sorry you got hurt. It was my fault.
Such a fucking loser.” He still can’t look at Zayn and instead kicks at the clean floor under foot.

“Lou-eh!” Zayn says firmly, but in the teasingly fond way he often addresses Louis with. “Don’t
say that shit about my friend. Is not your fault. I was driving like a dumbass. Was all worried about
Li. You should actually be giving me shit. I left your boyfriend to fend for himself.”

“He’s not my boyfriend and this is about you, not Harry.”

“You know he should be, though. He’s good, Louis. Like just a really good human. And you know
you like him.” Zayn completely ignores the end of Louis’ previous statement.

“Of course, I do, but he’s leaving.”

“If you fuck this up with him, I’m on his side. And you know Niall is too.” Zayn’s words are
straightforward and soft. He’s not trying to threaten Louis, just stating a simple fact. This, and the
way Zayn sets his caring brown eyes on him, makes Louis hold his tongue. Yeah, he wants to
whine that his friends would choose a virtual stranger over him, but he gets it. They may have only
known Harry for a couple weeks, but that doesn’t matter. There’s just something special about
him. One look at his goofy, beautiful face (that literally shows every emotion he’s feeling) makes
you love him. Louis can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. It’s not only because he’s handsome, or
(more accurately) pretty. Lots of people are those things. It’s whatever shines out from inside that
makes him glow like the sun. Exactly why Louis had called him Sun to begin with.

Zayn must be able to read Louis’ thoughts by his expression because he continues, “I’m not gonna
tell you what he said to me on that hill. Not my place, but I needed it. I can’t even imagine what it
would have been like without him talking my ear off up there. Probably would have passed out
from the pain. Again...”

There’s a quiet pause that seems to suck the air out of the room. Zayn’s thoughtful for a moment
while Louis has no idea how to respond. It’s not like he doesn’t know how fucking great Harry is.
He so obviously does. Just picturing how he took care of Zayn, without even a thought for himself,
breaks Louis’ heart in a weird conflicting-kind-of-emotions way. Louis doesn’t understand it, but
he feels an equal measure of sadness and overwhelming affection just from Zayn’s words.

“He didn’t even seem to stop and consider what he was saying. Like when he was sharing personal
stuff with me. I don’t know anyone that honest, or um… vulnerable, I guess. I think maybe people
take advantage of that. Of him. Because he’s good, he thinks other people are too. You know what
I mean? I don’t want that to be what happens with you too, Lou. It’s not right. I mean I know it
wouldn’t be on purpose, or anything…” Zayn lets his thought drift off before finishing. Louis can
tell it’s to save his feelings. His friend could easily call-out some of Louis’ recent actions when it
comes to Harry. He knows they haven’t all been great, even as well intentioned as they were meant
to be. He swallows a lump in his throat.

The pair are quiet again. Louis’ thoughts race when what Zayn has said really sinks in. He didn’t
tell Harry’s story and Louis is glad for it. He wouldn’t want to hear private things about Harry
unless they came straight from Harry’s mouth. Zayn has, however, said enough to make it clear
that Harry has been treated badly in the past. And there it is, the last stab through Louis’ heart. He
knew Harry had dealt with at least one shitty boyfriend before (who hasn’t?). But to have Zayn
confirm it’s likely a trend, is just too much. Because who else could have taken advantage of
Harry, realistically? Friends? Maybe, but given that Harry seems like a bit of an introvert, Louis
thinks he’s probably pretty selective when it comes to his friends.

Louis had sensed it anyway (that maybe Harry’s dating history had left him a little fragile) in
Harry’s quiet self-consciousness and through his mostly unwarranted jealousy (that Louis so
desperately wants not to love).

Worst of all is Zayn even suggesting Louis could be the next to not treat Harry right. Someone who
should never have been treated wrong ever. It’s unimaginable.

“Fuck, Zayn. What am I gonna do?”

“You’re gonna do long distance and then you’re gonna find a way to be together.”

Louis huffs.

As if it’s that simple.

They let the conversation drop after that. Turning to Liam’s apology next. Louis once again senses
Zayn knows more than he does about the situation and life in general. Especially after a cryptic
comment from Zayn that Louis should take a second to chat with Liam when he can. Honestly,
Louis is all done with chats. He’s tired and burnt-out and feeling like he can’t do anything right
these days. Chatting with Liam is literally the last thing on his mind, but he promises Zayn that he
will.

They play “Go Fish” for a while with a deck of cards Liam had brought by earlier. It’s nice, makes
Louis feel a little like being a kid again. He thinks Harry would probably like to do this sometime.
He seems like the type who would enjoy a good board game, maybe Pictionary, or Chutes and
Ladders, or Battleship. Louis has filthy ideas of exactly how playing with Harry could go.
Definitely different than the games between him and Zayn. Louis decides to leave after that based
on a quickly growing semi in his pants and his need for a cold shower before work.

**

For the rest of the day, Zayn’s words ring in Louis’ thoughts. It's good advice. He IS going to make
this work. He has to. So what if they have to do long distance? Harry’s worth it. But how does he
make Harry want to do the same? Louis feels like Harry’s getting the short end of the stick if they
do try to actually be together because Louis would get Harry, but Harry would only get Louis. He
knows Harry can have whoever he wants, even if he doesn’t see that himself yet.

Chewing on his lip, Louis ponders the situation yet again. He’s dropping drinks at a table. The
short cocktailing shift he picked up shouldn’t take more than three hours tops and he’s already an
hour and a half in. He needs it though since his teaching day was light with only a couple lessons
booked earlier.

He’s focused on the whole distance thing when another thought emerges in his brain, like a Pop-
Tart springing up from a toaster, all warm and smelling of slightly burnt pastry. It’s to do with sex,
of course. He IS in his early twenties after all. Most of his thoughts revolve around this topic. This
thought in particular is about the sex he and Harry have had, how it’s been fun, all eager and new,
but maybe a little awkward. Louis didn’t originally think so, but he has a feeling, from some of
Harry’s recent concerns, that maybe Harry does. At the very least it isn’t the best sex Harry’s had.
That Louis is pretty sure of. And then it dawns on him that that’s where his answer lies. Because if
Louis has anything going for him, it’s being good in bed. Plus, his body is nothing to scoff at
either, if he says so himself.

So that’s the clincher, he decides, now that he’s sure he’s going to do whatever he can to make this
thing work between him and Harry for the long run. If he can really blow Harry away in bed (pun
intended) it might make however long they need to do long distance seem worthwhile.

With an eagerness he usually doesn’t show on serving shifts, he runs to drop his tray at the bar,
grins wildly at Ed and exclaims, “We’re back in the game!” before he darts off to grab his phone
from his locker in the kitchen. He giggles to himself on the way at the confused look Ed gives him.
He doesn’t even care how ridiculous he seems; he has a way to possibly be with Harry and he can’t
keep his excitement in.

Ew, when did he become this sappy? Never been this gone for someone before, but also never been
with someone like Harry before. That explains it.

**

The bed makes a groaning sound as Louis shifts his body weight to steady himself. He’s standing
precariously on the corner of his mattress, taping up a strand of twinkle lights. He can see himself
in the new full-length mirror he’s perched against the wall. Every surface of his room has been
cleaned. He miraculously lucked out, getting off work in time to get to the big department store in
town before they closed and taking a cue from Harry, has candles placed in various spots around
the room. In addition to this, he got whip cream because apparently that’s also something Harry
likes the sounds of, strawberries, fizzy wine, even a couple neck ties, in case Harry likes to be tied
up, or wants to tie Louis up. He’s not fussy as long as it results in the very best sex Harry has ever
had. He even bought a new rug to make his room look cozier. He’s also stuffed all his family
photographs in his desk drawers because they don’t need to see the filth about to happen.

Feeling quite impressed with himself as he looks over his handiwork, he puffs out his chest a little
and rests his hands on his hips like a superhero. He thinks he looks like a superhero anyway. Screw
Niall for saying ‘more like Peter Pan’ when Louis made the mistake of joking about being
Superman one time.

His room looks good, he decides and heads into the hallway to see who else is home. The spare
room is empty, so Dave must have gone back to his own place at some point. Louis breathes a sigh
of relief at that. Liam and Zayn’s rooms are empty too and Louis guesses Li is sneakily staying
with Zayn at the hospital, if he can manage it. That leaves only Niall. Louis finds him on his bed
with a pair of earbuds in, scrolling through his phone. With the ease of someone who snowboards
everyday, Louis sneaks up and around him on the bed, plopping down beside his unsuspecting
friend and cuddling into him. He smells good, like holiday turkey dinner and Doritos.

Niall tilts his head, so his fluffy, just washed hair rubs against Louis’ in a friendly little nudge. He
pops out an earbud.

“Hello there.”

Louis just hums back.

“Why are you so cuddly today? Buttering me up by chance?”

Louis makes an offended face, but he knows Niall’s the human version of a giant teddy bear who
loves a little cuddle. He has used this knowledge in the past to get Niall on his side for whatever he
needed help with. And, yes, he’s doing it again now.

“Possibly. So maybe Harry is coming over and maybe I’m planning to have a special night with
him is all.”

“And you want me to watch?”

“Ugh. No. You and Harry need to stop with that, or I am gonna be sick.”

“Get off it. I know you want your good pal Nialler to watch and give you some pointers.”

Louis plants his hand on Niall’s waist and goes to push him off the bed.

“Nuh uh! I don’t think so!” Niall exclaims, clutching Louis to him to avoid falling.

Louis squawks as Niall, who was already teetering close to the edge of bed, loses his balance in a
bid to stabilize himself and they’re both tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck, Lewis. What was that for?” Niall grumbles even though he’s wearing a little smile as he
rights himself.

Louis scoots close to him again and rests his head on the other boy’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna try to keep him, Ni.”

“Keep who? Oh god! You didn’t end up kidnapping that footballer you love so much, did you?”

“Harry, you dolt, and I need to…” he plays with his lip while he processes. “Make it worthwhile. I
need to show ‘im why the distance is worth it… with um sex.” Louis mutters the last line.

Niall tilts his head back and laughs long and hard. “So, you do need my tips then? First…”

“Oh, shut it.”

“He likes you. You don’t have to prove anything. Just stop with the bets and plans, or whatever
and ask him to be yer boyfriend already. He’ll be thrilled. He’s not gonna care that it might take a
while to figure out the… logistics.” Niall smiles when he thinks up the right word.

Louis ponders this. Deep down he feels like Niall is wrong. He’s never been good with people, or
relationships because he’s too high energy and annoying, gets bored of people too easily, forgets
birthdays and gets distracted. Part of why he likes Harry so much is that even though Louis is all
those things (not to mention awkward as fuck sometimes and just a let down in general) Harry
never makes him feel that way. He can be loud and weird and awkward and Harry just looks at him
with those giant adoring eyes that make Louis want to be nothing but himself all the time. And
that’s where the fear sneaks in. What if whatever magical spell Harry’s under disappears when he
leaves? No. The sex plan is a good idea. This is what Harry will remember when he’s back in his
own room. City. Life. Or more importantly, when he’s just a car ride away from where Olly is, or
any other number of guys who would be happy to be with someone like Harry.

“It’s not enough, Mate. I need him salivating over me when he leaves.”

“You’re ridiculous. What is it you need from me then?”

“To get out of here. He’s gonna be here any minute.”

“Where’m I supposed to go?”

“Hangout with Gemma and Anne.”

“And what? Tell them you two needed privacy because you’re going at it?”

“Just make something up. Like we’re tired and watching a movie.”

Niall groans, but gets up anyway, finding his earbuds and setting them aside. He grabs his wallet
and his phone next, stuffing them in his pockets.

“Fine, but you owe me for this.”

Louis can’t help the sickening amount of love that bubbles in his stomach for his friend. He plants
a loud, wet kiss on his cheek.

“Yes, definitely. I owe you big.” Then he turns Niall around and pushes him by the back to the
door. Niall’s scurrying into his jacket before Louis can manhandle him into the hallway. There’s a
knock at the door just as he shoves his arm through the sleeve. Louis catches his eye, swallowing
as he takes in the silly 'oooooh he’s here face' his friend sends his way.

“Stop being a shit,” Louis hisses before reaching for the knob and opening the door wide.

He sucks in a breath when he gets a look at Harry standing in the hallway holding a bouquet of
flowers. His hair is flipped to the side, curling delicately at the ends. The multi-patterned shirt he
has on is loud, but in a way Harry can pull off, with some parts plaid and others a mix of patterned
cartoonish looking sunflowers. Of course, it’s open to mid-chest because it’s not like it’s minus
fifteen out or anything.

“Hi,” he says simply and the dimples in his creamy cheeks pop in that excruciating way that makes
Louis think he’s never going to see anything as beautiful as this man ever.

“Hi back,” Louis’ voice cracks embarrassingly and he stuffs his hands in his pockets looking to his
feet because he can’t take the cringe of Harry knowing just how nervous he is.

Niall laughs, squishing around Louis, “you boys have fun then.” He pats Harry on the shoulder as
he scoots by.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asks and Louis can’t tell if he looks a little disappointed.

“Yup. Louis doesn’t feel like sharing you tonight, m’ afraid.”

“Not sharing him with you ever,” Louis corrects without thinking. Niall cackles as he walks away,
but all Louis cares about is the shy grin that spreads across Harry’s face. “As long as that’s ok with
you, of course?” he adds.

Harry steps inside the apartment and hangs his jacket while Louis closes the door. He hopes he
can’t see the way he’s holding his breath while he waits for an answer.

“Guess it depends on what you’re asking.”

“Oh um…” Louis didn’t really think about his words all that much before he said them and now
standing here in his entrance way, he’s not sure what he actually was saying. He just knows he
wants Harry’s answer to be yes.

“I mean it sounded kind of like you were um… asking me to be your boyfriend, maybe?” Harry’s
socked big toes meet as he stumbles slowly over the words.

Is that what he was asking? Louis hadn’t meant to, but only because he’s a blockhead who doesn’t
know what he wants to eat for dinner most days, let alone how to proceed in a romantic
relationship.

“Do you want that?”

Please say yes. Please please please say yes.

“Uh huh,” Harry nods, his eyes basically boring a hole into Louis’ face, all wide and a little
pleading.

“Then you’re me boyfriend.” Reaching a hand out for Harry’s wrist instinctively, Louis curls his
fingers over the delicate bones there and pulls him forward. The shoes piled between them make
Harry stumble a little and he falls into Louis’ arms, dropping the flowers to the floor. If it was a
little more graceful it’d be like a romcom, but since it’s not, Harry manages to bang his knee off
Louis’ shin and the two crouch in pain for a moment holding their own small injuries.

When the dull throb subsides enough, Louis takes Harry by the elbow and stands him up gingerly,
kicking the shoes out of their way with his barefoot using a lot less care. He tugs Harry in close,
resting his forehead on Harry’s and grins.

“Wanna know what me boyfriend gets?”

“Presents?” Harry asks in all sincerity.

“No not presents, you little shit. Well, sometimes presents, but right now he gets the best damn sex
he’s ever had.”

“Ooooooooh I like being your boyfriend already.”

Their heads are still together and really all Louis can see is a blur of green, cream and pink that
kind of resembles the shape of Harry’s face because of how close they are.

“I thought you might.” Louis presses tight to Harry finding his lips as he grinds his growing semi
on Harry’s leg. Harry sucks in a breath, then pushes back into Louis in response, his hand finding
the small of Louis’ back instantly.

Their kissing gets heated quickly, Louis pushing Harry back against the wall and letting his hands
hungrily roam Harry’s torso while he continues to hump his leg like a teenager. Harry has both
hands gripping Louis’ bum, squeezing in time with Louis’ movements and Louis can't help getting
all caught up in it. Harry’s bear paw like hands, too big for his body, are perfect for cupping Louis’
bum cheeks. That alone might make them soul mates, or that's what Louis has determined, anyway.
He pulls away because he has things to show Harry. He’s gonna do this right. It’s going to be
perfect.
Harry looks all adorably rumpled and pouty.

“Just wanna show you something,” Louis grins and bops Harry on the nose with his forefinger.

“Okay!” Harry’s long fingers reach for the button on Louis’ jeans.

“Not that,” Louis can’t help but laugh, his face scrunching with the force of it. He leans down to
get the flowers Harry brought.

After an unimpressed huff, Harry states, “Not sure what else you can show me that’s gonna live up
to that.” He puts on a giant grin as he nods to Louis’ pants. It takes over his whole fucking face.
It’s cute and cocky at the same time and Louis can’t help the things he pictures that obscene sized
mouth doing to various parts of his body.

“You’re gonna like it. I promise.”

Louis lightly pushes Harry in the direction of his bedroom, playfully swatting at his bum with the
flowers when he finally starts moving. It’s because of this that Harry’s not really paying attention
(instead trying to outrun what Louis guesses are an expensive bunch of yellow roses) and ends up
in the middle of Louis’ room before he’s noticed the new additions. When he does, his eyes go all
wide and it looks like he might cry.

“Did you make it all romantic for me?”

“Well, I was going for fun sex dungeon, or whatever, but romantic is fine too.”

“Awwwww, Lou. You made me a sex dungeon?” Harry pokes him in the side as he teases.

“Okay. Don’t ruin it now,” Louis barbs back with a laugh.

“Show me around then,” Harry nudges Louis with his shoulder, his voice dropping to a lower,
huskier pitch.

“Well, didn’t really know what you like, so I got a bit of everything. A mirror because I get the
sense you like to see what’s going on, if I judged your comfort with being naked as having an
element of exhibitionism to it.”

“Could do,” Harry nods, lightly biting his bottom lip.

“The lighting and the rug is all for atmosphere, innit. You seem into that too. And then I got some
other stuff that might be fun… whip cream, ice, stuff to tie each other up…”

“Wow! You went all out.”

Louis ducks his head, embarrassed, “I just… want you to have a good time.”

Harry sneaks his head into the crook of Louis’ neck nuzzling it and peppering him with kisses that
range from pecks to love bites. His breath is warm on Louis’ skin and the kisses leave a welcome
wet feeling that reminds Louis of being at the beach in the summer—salt air, a windswept fringe
and skin that feels used, but in a good way.

Between kisses Harry speaks right into Louis’ skin instead of pulling away. It tickles. “Of course,
I’ll have a good time. I’m with you, silly.”

A quiet noise escapes from the back of Louis' throat as Harry attacks his neck. He tries not to
squish his head into Harry’s, but it’s hard because the kisses vary from ridiculously ticklish to
unbelievably hot.

“So, uh what do you feel like?”

“All of it,” Harry pulls back so he can give Louis another cocky smile. It’s funny how he can be
sexy while still looking entirely innocent.

The little shit.

“Okay wait here,” Louis’ voice hitches on the word okay. It’s because of this that he doesn’t wait
for a response, just gives Harry a quick peck on the lips, with his hand placed in the middle of his
chest as if to say don’t move, before darting out of his room to collect the things that are currently
in the kitchen.

Fooking hell! Of course, he wants it all.

The urgency to get back to his room radiates under Louis’ skin. He fumbles gathering ice cubes
into a bowl. They sway up to the sides of the dish as he tucks it in the crook of his arms, grabbing
the whip cream and a couple beers. He knows he must look ridiculous trying to dig the ties out of a
bag in the closet with arms loaded as they are, so he avoids looking at Harry who has stretched
himself out on Louis’ bed.

When he finally stands to face the other boy, he nearly drops everything on the floor as his mouth
pops open in surprise. Harry’s in only a pair of small black boxer briefs, wearing a gigantic grin
with arms pulled overhead where he holds one wrist with the other.

“Fuck,” Louis mutters. Harry’s creamy skin looks damn near edible. His back is arched just a tad
from the way he has his arms up overhead and Louis actually has no idea what to do. He honestly
wants to chuck all the things he just gathered in the air and pounce on him like some kind of wild
cat. He won’t though because Harry is in the perfect position for Louis to use this stuff and that’s
the whole reason he got it, right?

With a good amount of effort Louis walks to his desk and sets down the ice and the whip cream.

“Beer now, orrrr?”

“Or please.”

“Alright then,” Setting the beers down as well, Louis strides over to the bed. “Can I…” He waves
the ties around. “Treat you to a little light Fifty Shades. And I mean a super light version. Just
thinking of tying your wrists and one for your eyes.”

“But how can I watch if my eyes are closed?” Harry makes a sneaky face like he’s got an idea in
mind.

“So, no blindfold then. Got it.”

“Not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

“Maybe… we could tape it and watch it after.”

“Uh shit. Yeah okay.” Louis stumbles over the words because yeah that sounds hot. Scary as fuck,
but hot. “My phone, or yours?”
“Not fussed.”

Louis tosses the ties on the bed. One flops partly on Harry’s chest. The contrast of the material
against Harry’s skin does something to Louis’ brain. He can barely move his feet back over to the
desk. He’s not even sure he can sort out how to tape them, like the actual set-up of the phone. He
definitely wasn’t expecting this, that’s for sure. Then a thought pops in his head.

“Hey, Harold?”

“Mmmm?”

“Have you um done this before?” Louis peeks over his shoulder to see Harry still in the same
position, but his cheeks look a little rosy now.

“The taping it thing? Nope. I thought it could be fun. Kind of like you said about the stuff you
were fantasizing about. But I only wanted to do it with someone I could trust.”

“And that’s me?” Louis takes his thumb and points it towards his chest. He can feel himself fish-
mouthing in shock.

“Isn’t it?”

“No. I mean yes it is. I just… You barely know me.”

“I think I know you enough to tell. Sometimes how a person is is obvious from the get-go. Does
that make sense?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay then hit record and let’s get this show on the road.” Harry jolts his hips up jokingly.

It takes a while for Louis to get the phone in a good position where it will sit up properly and is
focused on the right part of the bed. He hits the button at the bottom of the screen, takes a breath
and makes his way back over to Harry. As gently as possible, he wraps the tie through and around
Harry’s wrists. The material is cheap, but soft. All the while Harry watches him with a flirty little
grin, eyes locked on Louis’ face.

“Cut it out, Harold. You’re making me nervous.”

“Cut what out? Shouldn’t I be the nervous one.”

“The death stare, and are you?”

“Nope. And it’s hardly a death stare. Is how I look at stuff I like.”

“Well, it’s good you’re not that laser eye guy from the X-men, or I’d be toast.”

Harry cackles, but is interrupted as Louis lifts his head to lightly knot the second tie around it,
careful not to get his hair stuck as he tightens. The sound of Harry’s laughter is swallowed by a
sharp, quiet inhale.

Once Harry’s eyes are covered, Louis takes his time getting everything else in order. In an effort to
build the suspense, he jostles the ice bowl and shakes the whip cream. Since Harry only has his
ears to rely on, Louis assumes the other boy is listening intently for his next move.

Finally, Louis saunters back to the bed with the bowl of ice in hand and straddles himself over
Harry’s thighs. He gazes down at him for a moment before leaning down and licking, with his
tongue flat, from one laurel tattoo up to one of Harry’s nipples. The way Harry hums and arches his
back in response literally makes it feel like a whole fleet of songbirds just started singing inside
Louis’ stomach.

Louis can’t remember ever having a crush that made him feel like this before. There’s a whole
fucking Disney movie happening in his body. He wasn’t even this bad that year he non-stop
watched Smallville entirely for Tom Welling.

Riding on the high of Harry's happy little noises, Louis gives his nipple a small bite. Harry pushes
up into his mouth, humming louder in response. It’s enthralling, this beautiful man all stretched out
and yearning for Louis’ lips. Instead of placing them back where they were, Louis picks up one of
the melting ice cubes and runs it in a slow circle around the moist nipple he'd just been focused on.
He thinks the sensation might be better, colder, with the thin layer of saliva he left behind. Plus,
Harry's expecting his warm mouth back where it just was. The element of surprise always gets
Louis going so he figures Harry might be the same.

“Fuck!” Harry groans, tipping his tailbone and pushing up higher with his mid-back. Louis takes it
as a signal that he was in fact right and to continue trailing the cube along Harry’s torso as he bites
and sucks at his skin like it’s the sustenance he needs to survive.

Eventually Louis makes it up to Harry’s face. He drops the cube on the floor to melt where it lands,
fitting a kiss into Harry’s parted lips. Harry responds almost instantly, his tongue darting into
Louis’ mouth in the eager way Louis has gotten accustomed to. It's full and soft and he knows how
to give just the right amount of pressure to make Louis' insides roll delightfully. The kisses are
slow and intense, driving a building heat to Louis’ core. His dick is ridiculously hard. The way he’s
straddling Harry means it occasionally grazes Harry’s equally hard dick. When it happens, they
both rut into each other in teasing circles, Harry straining to keep his arms overhead.

Louis lifts himself up from Harry to push the blindfold off his eyes. He laughs lightly when Harry
grunts petulantly in response.

“You’re gonna wanna see this bit, love.”

“I am?”

“I think so.”

Turning and accidently knocking the bowl with the rest of the ice in it to the ground, Louis gives a
little shrug at the accident and reaches to the bedside table for his lube. He gets off the bed with
Harry’s eyes fast on him. Accidently stepping in the ice puddle, he has to do a little dance wiping
his foot on the bedspread before he can shimmy out of his clothes. When he’s fully naked He
crawls back over Harry, whose head is tilted between his arms to see what’s happening. Louis slips
his fingers in the elastic of Harry’s briefs.

“This ok?” He nods to where his phone is still filming.

Harry nods back wide eyed and Louis gingerly slips his pants off.

“I’m gonna ride you, if you want?” Louis is definitely giving Harry the option. That’s the point
here, isn’t it? Harry’s best sex ever.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I mean good. Yes, please.”

“Okay then,” Louis grins huge, happy to see the absolute mess he’s turned Harry into. His hair is
all over the place and his cheeks are so pink it looks like someone rubbed the wet bitten end of a
strawberry all over them. But it’s his puffy lips and glassy green eyes that have Louis ready to sink
his own fingers into himself. So that’s what he does, after a generous amount of lube of course.

Harry’s mouth pops open in complete shock. “Lou, we’re filming this.”

“Innit that the point?” Louis can barely hold back a grin and bites his bottom lip so he doesn’t look
too happy with himself.

He's writhing on his own fingers in no time with Harry splayed out underneath him. It looks like
his neck must hurt, the way he has it craned between his arms, watching Louis’ every move. That
and knowing the camera is capturing everything, has Louis almost dizzy with wanting.

“Ready?” he asks as he catches his breath and tries to center himself. His heart is thudding like
mad and he wants to come so bad, but he also wants to prolong it as much as he can for Harry’s
sake.

Harry’s biting on his lip so hard Louis expects to see teeth imprints when he finally lets it go. He’s
also nodding vigorously. Louis takes a moment to fumble with a condom and lube Harry up, before
he guides his dick to his hole. He sinks down tentatively. Harry’s quiet, almost in awe.

Louis goes to move, but Harry brings his arms forward, nearly hitting Louis in the head as he does.

“Untie me please. I wanna touch you.”

And it’s fairly awkward, Louis trying to undo the loose knot he made while also keeping his
balance. He almost teeters onto Harry’s chest twice, but manages to keep himself upright. He feels
like he has Harry’s dick to thank. The thing is sturdy and sizable. Not the type of dick to randomly
slip out.

He glances down at Harry shyly as he finally pulls the two ends of the material apart, letting them
loosely slide from his fingers and onto the bed. Harry’s eyes are intent on him. As soon as his
hands are freed, he tucks an errant strand of hair behind Louis’ ear.

“Good?” Louis rasps out huskily.

Harry nods back eagerly, inducing Louis to start moving his hips slowly, building a rhythm. He’s
positioned himself on his feet, legs bent in a Buddha squat. He learned it from the one yoga class
he ever took when his younger sister had begged him to go with her. Didn't think at the time he'd
be using it again, especially in this circumstance, but at least he got something out of that class in
the end. He likes how it gives him more freedom and control over his movements and takes that to
his full advantage, as he begins to rock earnestly on Harry. Each movement feels big and emphatic,
but still in time with the tempo his body works to.

Harry is lying back a bit stupefied, making little mewling noises and rolling his hips along in time.
His hands roam Louis’ thighs as he continues to bite his bottom lip, his eyes scrunched tight. Louis
rides him like his every future happiness depends on it. He’s not gonna lie, the effort is definitely
increasing his current happiness exponentially.

“Hmmmm” Louis moans when he feels Harry’s dick hit the exact spot his body has been
screaming for.

Harry’s eyes pop open. Louis can see that he’s still biting down on his lip hard in concentration and
although this position feels fucking fabulous, Louis can tell Harry needs something more. He’s too
focused on Louis and not really letting himself go.
“Hey beautiful,” Louis manages to spit out. It’s a bit broken given the effort it takes to speak.
“What do you need?”

“It’s good. Am good.” Harry strokes Louis’ sides with his long fingers splayed. They’re clammy
and it tickles, so Louis huffs a little.

“Tickles,” he says. He’s slowed down his hips so he can think straight. The on and off pressure to
his prostate is too overwhelming otherwise. He continues in steady close motions as his eyes study
Harry’s face and trail his body. He can’t miss Harry’s furrowed brow. His eyes are closed again.
It’s like he’s trying to focus.

“Babe,” Louis says quietly so as not to startle him. “What can I do to stop that brain of yours?”

Harry’s lids flutter open to show his green eyes vulnerable, understanding crossing them as the
lines wrinkling his forehead smooth out. “Closer, Lou. I want to be um… closer.” He hefts his
upper body up, stretching behind him and placing his hands on the bed (somehow not jostling
Louis very much in the process).

“I can do closer.”

Harry’s face relaxes completely. He nips at Louis’ chest as Louis maneuvers his legs around him,
so he’s basically sitting on his lap. Harry crosses his legs and wraps one arm around Louis’ back,
keeping himself steady with the other.

When they’re finally sorted, Louis chances a glance at Harry’s face. It’s so close to his own now.

“Better?”

Harry nuzzles into his neck, breathing a happy “hmmmmm” as a yes into Louis’ skin. His teeth nip
at Louis’ shoulder as Louis rolls his hips slow and easy. The way Harry fills him up has his whole
body wanting to stretch long, but having Harry so close keeps him tucked up to his chest instead. It
also means his dick is up against Harry’s stomach and feels every bit of friction their movements
create.

Harry’s really going to town on Louis’ neck which leaves his own neck and chest exposed for the
same treatment. It doesn’t take more than a glance at the skin there, all tantalizing with the
shadows of his bones, the swell of his Adam’s apple and the close proximity of his left side
swallow tattoo, to make Louis sink his teeth lightly into the flesh. The idea of them all wrapped up
together sucking on each other’s necks passes through Louis’ thoughts and he can’t keep it to
himself. He dots kisses along Harry’s shoulder, grinding faster and harder while managing to get
out the words, “We’re like a couple of fooking vampires.”

“My skin doesn’t sparkle though,” Harry breaths out roughly.

“Doesn’t need to. Already so gorgeous.” Louis means it too. His heart fucking aches over the
seriousness of Harry’s statement. Louis would tease anyone else endlessly over saying something
so ridiculous during sex, especially with not even a note of sarcasm.

Harry moans, letting his head fall back slightly, his body tightening and curling around Louis’.
Louis grinds harder, strengthening his grip on Harry’s back. The muscles under his hand are taut.

“Fucking stunning,” Louis murmurs.

A guttural noise reverberates in Harry’s throat and proves Louis’ thought is correct. Harry either
likes to hear Louis’ voice during sex, or he likes to be complimented during sex. Both of those
things Louis can easily do. Louis wants to do, especially now as each sound Harry makes has Louis
on the verge of coming.

Harry’s hand slips between them, wrapping around Louis’ cock. It’s an awkward angle, but it still
feels unbelievably good and has Louis hunting for Harry’s lips. When he finds them, he’s landing
sloppy kisses there. Harry too; his lips meet Louis’ keenly. They grind into each other at a steady
pace, Harry’s hand erratically stroking Louis in time. It has Louis overwhelmed and unsure where
to focus his attention. There IS one thing he’s sure of though, his orgasm is steadily creeping in. He
can feel his body starting to shudder with it. The issue is he wants Harry to go first. He scrabbles
through his busy brain to come up with the right words, knowing Harry is also at the edge by the
way his back arches in, pushing his stomach closer to Louis’.

He finally murmurs out, “Closer was a good idea. I would live in your fucking skin if I could.”
And as if to solidify the fact, he inhales deeply where his face is planted on Harry’s chest right by
his shockingly enticing armpit. Louis has never wanted to stick his tongue in the crevice of a
sweaty armpit so bad, or at all for that matter, but right now, he wants to taste Harry more than
anything else in the world. He would literally give up breathing to lick the dark spot where his arm
is pushed tight to his body. So, he does, lick Harry's armpit that is. He slowly takes his tongue and
fits it right in the groove mid-way up his bicep and drags until he reaches the crack where his arm
and his body meet. He feels the dusting of hair there. It shouldn’t be sexy in any way, it’s wet
clingy, softness, but it is. It so is. Louis swirls his tongue lazily and then retracts it to let his teeth
and lips clamp around the skin of Harry's upper arm. His mouth is left feeling tangy and a little
sweet. It's fucking perfect.

Harry groans out a loud indecipherable noise as his body stutters through an orgasm. He manages
one last stroke over Louis’ cock that has Louis slumping into his chest as the pent-up energy in him
finally releases, his body stilling, little shivers running through him as he comes between them. He
feels like he’s forgotten how to swallow and might be drooling on Harry’s chest, but he’s too tired
and satisfied to care.

They sit for a minute clinging to each other and breathing heavily, but their position proves
uncomfortable and a little chilly, since they’re both slicked with sweat. They manage to untangle
themselves and flop on their backs on the bed.

Louis tilts his head to dotingly look at Harry. He’s grinning and lets out a sleepy yawn. “That was
so good, right?”

“So good,” Louis confirms, pushing a damp strand of hair out of Harry’s face. Harry curls on his
side towards Louis, his satiated smile turning coy.

“Can we watch it now?”

“Jesus! I forgot. Look at you ‘Mr. can’t get enough’. I personally am gonna need to be well drunk
to watch that video.”

“Okay,” Harry pops up like that’s an easy enough stipulation to solve.

Louis laughs. “Shower beers?”

“Shower beers.” Harry agrees and is up off the bed before Louis has even had a chance to sit up.

**

“Can we keep it?” Harry asks, now giggly drunk. They’ve watched the video two times through,
after a shower, four beers and a shot of tequila. Between them the whip cream is open and they’ve
been randomly spraying it into each other’s mouths as they watch themselves on Louis’ phone.

Louis’ finger hovers over the delete button.

“What if someone sees it?” This feels like one of those horrible Lifetime movies (meant to teach
kids a lesson) waiting to happen.

“I’m not gonna show anyone. Are you? Anyway, I’m gonna need something to wank to when I go
back home.”

Louis groans, “I hate that you have to leave.”

“Me too.”

Louis knows there’s nothing else to say on that subject, so instead he goes back to the previous one,
“what’s a good way to send it to you? I’ve never done this before.”

Harry shrugs, “Dunno. I’m not super techy. Maybe you keep it for now and we can make another
one for me.” He winks as he finishes his thought.

“Alright then,” Louis exits out of the screen picking up the whip and holding it out to see if Harry
wants some. Harry opens his mouth wide waiting for the dollop on his tongue. Louis plops it in,
but seeing an opportunity he also squeezes another bit onto the end of his nose.”

“Heeeeey,” Harry mumbles around the mouthful he’s trying to swallow.

“Oh, sorry.” Louis grins, leaning in close and opening his lips to remove the offending fluffy
dessert topper while also giving Harry a light peck on the nose. They both giggle over it for a
minute before Louis asks, “So what now?”

“How ‘bout another beer and we watch it again? I still can’t believe you licked my armpit.”

“Did you like it?”

“Mmmmm hmmmm just shocking is all. Did you like it? I mean I was so sweaty.”

“Yeah, why do you think I did it? Been wondering what your sweat would taste like probably since
that first boarding lesson… oh no, wait. Outside the spa. Definitely then. When you had that robe
on…”

“So? Did it live up to your expectations?”

“Exceeded them, Curly. Like way exceeded them.”

Harry gives Louis a quick, cuddly hug before popping up off the bed. “Beers on me this time, or I
mean I’ll get ‘em from the kitchen.”

The ease Harry has, just strolling out of Louis’ room completely naked and down the hall to the
kitchen, makes Louis laugh. He can hear the refrigerator open. He knows he only has a second to
get lost in his thoughts, but that’s all he needs to realize just how whipped he is for this boy
already. He’s never had sex like they just did, nor has he lazed around naked after, downing whip
cream and just enjoying the other person’s company.

Harry is at the door again holding two beers and grinning when Louis looks back up. He’s honestly
so gorgeous, but it’s the dorky way he stands there that’s so precious. This man in front of him,
hung in an absolutely unfair way, with a body that’s a perfect mix of masculine and feminine, is
pulling a goofy face with his hair a tousled floppy mess. The combination makes him look like a
rambunctious lion cub.

“Get over here, you,” Louis taps the spot beside him. He’s pleasantly surprised when Harry
practically throws himself on the bed (and Louis), curling up into him as they crack their beers and
set the phone up for a third watch of their sex video.

Louis kisses into Harry’s curls as Harry flicks playfully at his nipple. He has a feeling they might
not make it through this rewatch and he’s not all that fussed about it when he considers their other
options.
 Chapter 17
Chapter Summary

Happy holidays!!! I am trying my best to get this story all wrapped up in the next little
bit. Was shooting for the end of the holidays, but there's still so much to go

This chapter references drug use, but it's still pretty light. Can't think of any other
triggers.

Anyway thank you all for spending time with my story this year and I hope whatever
you celebrate you have a good time with friends/family.

Another chapter is coming very very soon. I just need to do the old copy and paste into
aO3.

Ok enjoy!

It’s been three days since Niall hung out with Gemma and Anne. And it was an absolute blast. It’s
obvious now why Harry is as great as he is with a family like that. The fact that Niall showed up
unannounced didn’t even seem like a surprise to them. They happily welcomed him in, fed him
copious amounts of food and then spent the evening beating him at board games and challenging
each other to who could make the most ridiculous mixed drink. The blender literally never
stopped. It was the best. He kind of wants to switch lives with Harry if he’s honest.

Normally Niall isn’t very good at keeping track of time. If he had to guess the day of the week it
was, most days he’d be wrong. But he knows it’s been three days because that was also the start of
the official Harry Louis Sex-a-thon–The Marathon of all Marathons, which he was inaugurated into
as soon as he came home from Gemma and Anne’s. Louis is probably still pissed about that, but
how was Niall supposed to know that they would be going at it on the kitchen floor. He honestly
thinks they wanted him to catch them. And he can’t help if he stopped and watched for a minute.
They are both fit boys, after all. He can’t imagine anyone turning down a peek at that. But now,
days later, their constant humping is getting a little much.

As if to validate his thought, the pair are sprawled on the couch having the make-out of all make-
outs, completely unperturbed by his presence in the open-concept kitchen, five feet away at most,
as he munches on a sandwich he's particularly proud of making. It’s loaded with veggies, hummus,
sprouts and cheese and each bite tastes better than the last.

“You’re really taking away from this masterpiece of a meal I concocted,” he mumbles around his
current bite.

There’s an annoyed moan from Louis as Harry pokes his head out from underneath him. He looks
like a turtle the way he’s sneaked his face in the space between Louis’ head (still turned towards
the couch where Harry’s face had been a moment before) and his arm.

“Oh, sorry, Niall. We’re the worst.”

“Yeah, lads, you are. It’s been three whole days now. The only time you’re not stuck to each
other’s faces is when Louis has to leave for work. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the shifts
you’ve been giving up, Lou. You’re gonna be broke in no time.”

Louis’ head pops up and he looks at Niall with wide eyes, his mouth slack and open.

“Three days?! But that means you only have…” he counts on his fingers before he turns to Harry.

Niall feels instantly horrible.

“…twelve days left as of tomorrow.”

Harry nods back. It’s like Niall is in high school again, watching Romeo and Juliet on his English
class’s crappy classroom TV. The same sense of dread creeping into his chest. Like with the
fictional couple, he feels powerless to keep Harry and Louis from doing something stupid in the
face of their upcoming separation. He knows this won’t end like Shakespeare. They’re just a
couple of young lads that live too far apart currently. Nothing to despair over. But the ominous
feeling he gets as he watches Harry’s sad little confirmation of Louis’ words is absolutely
heartbreaking.

“Ok no more of that,” he pipes up before things can get any worse. “Want me tuh watch ye get it in
again? Don’t even pretend you don’t like it because I know that’s a lie.”

Louis looks to Niall as he reaches behind him and Harry pulling out a pillow to chuck in Niall’s
direction. Neither he nor Harry seem any happier even after the pillow goes flying across the room.

“I know! Didn’t you promise Gemma and Anne you’d go to Karaoke with them? Why not tonight?
Ever since you got Dave on staff he’s been hounding me for shifts. Apparently covering for you
and Zayn’s not enough. That breakfast place he’s at is busy, but shite tips and he can only get so
many hours.”

Niall knows instantly he’s put his foot in it when Harry bites his bottom lip and says, “you asked
Dave to take your shifts? How come you didn’t tell me that?”

“Well….to be fair, I didn’t ask him. I got Liam to. All I did was ask the big boss to put him on staff
and that’s only because I knew we'd be screwed without extra help. I got one of the girls who runs
the lifts on the schedule too. I just didn’t think it was worth it to tell you. You’d worry over
nothing.”

He gives a pointed look in Niall’s direction and Niall tries his best to shrink into his own body, but
it doesn’t work.

Harry pushes Louis up, a pout taking over his whole face.

“On the topic of Liam, did you talk to him yet?”

“I talk to him every day, mate. He is my roommate.”

“Don’t be a dick. You know what I mean.”

“Okay. Hey now!” Niall interjects. He’s gotta save this situation since it is literally his fault
entirely. Well maybe Louis’ too, a little, but predominantly his. “Let’s all be nice now and go sing
are arses off later, alright?”

Apparently, Louis is not having that though because he sits up looking as feisty as he did that time
Niall threw his cigarettes in the toilet.
“What’s the fascination with me talking to Liam? We’re good. He’s not acting like an idiot
anymore, so lay off it.”

Niall sucks in a gasp in indignation on Harry’s behalf. He’s certain Louis’ just lashing out because
he’s sad Harry’s leaving, but that was less like his usual loveable sass and more like him being
straight up mean. All Niall wants to do is cuddle Harry while telling Louis off and he’s about to
when Harry replies wetly with, “because he’s in love with you, you dumbass, or was, or thought he
was.”

“Listen, lad, you know that’s not true. We already went over this.”

“He told me himself, Lou. But fine, don't believe me.”

Niall knows he should move. He needs to fix this, but WHAT?! This is the first he’s heard of Liam
having feelings for Louis.

“What about Zayn?” he hears himself ask in a quiet voice.

Louis jumps off the couch leaving a vulnerable Harry staring at the space he’s left behind and
clearly unsure what to do with his body, now that he’s alone lying awkwardly across the cushions.

“Nothing about Zayn,” Louis snips. “It’s not true.”

Niall and Harry catch eyes. It’s this that boots Niall into action because the hurt look he’s met with
is too much. Harry pulls himself up to a sitting position, one hand is tucked under his knee as he
sits forward watching Louis pace the room.

“Hey, Lou.” Niall rounds the counter to catch Louis as he turns back to walk a line from the
hallway into the main sitting area. He takes him by the shoulders and looks him straight in the
face.

“You know how you get a little testy when you get scared and sad?”

Louis cocks a brow.

“Louuuuu. You and I both know that’s what’s going on here. So, apologize to Harry and we’ll
Karaoke it out of your system tonight. As for Li,” Niall looks to Harry. “Does Zayn know?”

Harry nods a small yes.

“Well then. They’re obviously fine, so you talk to Li later, mate,” he gives Louis a hearty pat on
his tense shoulder, “Otherwise we assume all is well.” Mussing Louis’ hair, he shoves him in
Harry’s direction.

Louis looks at his feet, then glances up at Harry.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “That was shit of me. It’s just… um I don’t want you to leave.”

“S’okay. I have my moments too. If you hadn’t apologized, I would have sulked and ignored you
all week.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would and I have. I am an expert at the silent treatment,” Harry teases.

Louis chuckles and Niall breathes a sigh of relief. He quickly sneaks to the kitchen to grab his
sandwich when he notices Harry lean in and cup Louis’ jaw with his over-sized hand. They’re
kissing by the time Niall gets to his door.

“Remember Karaoke later. Ask Anne and Gemma.”

Harry gives him a thumbs up over Louis’ head without breaking the kiss.

**

“Karaoke ish so fuuuuuuuun!” Niall will admit it, he is beyond pissed. Whatever the next level of
drunk is, that’s where he’s at. Shmammered beyond belief really. He pats Louis’ shoulder, the one
his arm is wrapped around, and leans in conspiratorially. It’s the first-time all-night Harry and
Louis haven’t been glued together and Niall has a serious question he can’t ask in Harry’s presence.

“Hey so, on a scale of one to ten, when I walked in on you two that last time, how much of that
stellar orgasm you had was from me being there and how much was Harry?”

Louis splutters beer into the air in front of them. Splatters of it unattractively hit the bar.

“Mate, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask that. Also didn’t I tell you to forget everything
you’ve seen the last three days?”

“How? Do you know what you two look like?”

Louis just shakes his head, but Niall feels like it’s a fair point. They’re interrupted by Harry coming
back from wherever he’s been the last little while. They actually came to the bar looking for him
originally. He’d been on a drink run, but the twenty minutes that passed were well above the time
the five previous trips to the bar had taken. When they found him red-faced and acting a little
weird, Louis had shrugged it off. Harry had run off to the washroom right after and now just
returning, Niall’s wondering if he has a bad tummy, or something. It feels like he’s been gone for a
decent bit.

“You good?” Louis asks him, resting a hand on Harry’s waist in a way that feels so natural it’s like
Harry’s waist was made specifically shaped for Louis’ hand. Niall honestly cannot take how cute
the two of them are.

Harry wriggles at the touch and laughs breathily. That’s an usual response. He usually leans
calmly into Louis’ touch. It’s another point for Niall’s bad stomach scenario. Niall finds himself
cringing. Being prone to an upset tummy himself, probably because of all the food he haphazardly
stuffs into it all the time, he understands how uncomfy it can be.

“Eat something funky today?” He asks getting close to Harry’s ear to save him some of the
embarrassment of Louis catching the convo.

The look that passes Harry’s face, pure confusion mixed with a sense of awe, maybe, throws Niall.
It seems like a bit excessive of a reaction to his simple question. So to do the absolute peals of
laughter that follow.

Louis’ eyes dart between the pair. He chuckles even though he has no idea what’s happening.

“I reckon you broke, Harold,” he comments to Niall, since Harry clearly can’t talk to explain
himself.

“I just asked if he ate something funky today, is all.” Niall shrugs because there’s nothing funny
about that.
Apparently, Louis disagrees because he’s laughing too. It’s a lost cause when he and Harry make
eye contact, Louis smirking ever so slightly. Harry’s literally heaving for breath he’s cackling so
hard, his face scrunched up and his mouth huge.

“Ehm… I don’t get it,” Niall confesses and Harry has to place his hand on Louis’ leg to hold
himself upright.

He’s saved from his complete and utter confusion when the DJ’s booming voice calls out, “Gemma
and the Frosty Balls” through the speaker.

“We’re up!” He brightens instantly, dragging a still laughing Harry and Louis back to their table.

Time passes oddly in Niall’s drunken state. One moment they’re gathering themselves together for
their turn at the mic, the next the four of them are on stage while Anne watches on laughing so
hard there are tears in her eyes. Not that Niall’s noticed that. All he can focus on are the blue lights
shining on them like they’re actually performing for a real crowd. His dream. He’s giving it like
that’s the case too. Really hamming it up for the weeknight Karaoke regulars. His dance moves are
on point.

Gemma’s got the mic and is belting the lyrics to some emo song he barely knows while he, Harry
and Louis sing backup. Basically, they’re just making weird grunty noises and screaming back and
forth at each other with flair. Everyone aside from their table, which consists of Anne and a few of
the friends she’s met in her various group activities, is cringing into their drinks, or trying to ignore
the fiasco on stage. Louis’ arms are wrapped around Harry’s waist so tight, Niall wonders how the
other boy is able to breathe, let alone sing. Maybe that’s why Harry’s voice is coming out in a
handful of spluttered giggles more often than not, or maybe it’s from whatever inside joke he
clearly missed moments before.

The song ends and they clamour off the stage, plopping back into their seats. Louis drags Harry to
his lap even though there’s an empty chair waiting for him.

“I think they might be in love,” Niall’s pretty sure he’s whispering when he looks over at the cute
plump lady to his right. He can’t remember her name. Before she can respond, Gemma, who’s way
at the other end of the table, calls teasingly, “I think you might be right.”

He can feel his forehead scrunch as he tests out whispering a few other words. It’s impossible
Gemma heard him from way over there. The woman beside him titters into her hand quietly. Her
cheeks are round and pink. Niall wants to plant a juicy kiss there. Just a friendly one of course, she
is at least twice his age after all.

“Niall, mate, what are you on about? Did you just scream fart, eyelashes, window washer? Either
way let’s keep the love talk to ourselves please and thanks.” Louis gives him a flirty little wink that
distracts Niall momentarily. After awkwardly trying to wink back and ending up just squishing
both eyes shut, Niall hears what Louis actually said.

“Wait! Is there love talk happening between yourselves,” he waggles a finger back and forth
gesturing to Harry and Louis. He doesn’t get an answer though because Harry gets all flustered,
placing his hands over his mouth as if to contain the chortles that bubble through his fingers and
falls off Louis’ lap onto the floor.

“You two are adorable,” the woman beside Niall jumps in. “How long have you been together?”

Harry rights himself as Louis answers, “um, what is it now, Harold? Three days, officially?”
The woman laughs. Her eyes are bright and cheerful even in the dark restaurant, “Oh so it’s puppy
love then.” She teases good naturedly.

Harry abruptly stops rubbing away the non-existent dirt from his pants as he settles back on Louis’
lap to cross his arms against his chest and pout, “Nothing puppy about it.”

“Oh, sorry dear. Of course not,” the woman consoles. There’s just the slightest note of
condescension in her tone. She does have a few years on Harry, so she must think she knows better
than he does.

Niall giggles. His brain is foggy from the booze and Harry looks so cute when he pouts. His hair is
wild, bandana all askew, and his creamy cheeks are painted a pinky rose colour. The rest of the
table is oblivious, all chatting about something else, and Niall thinks nothing of Harry’s comment
until he moves his drunken head to take in Louis and Gemma. Both are staring at Harry like he’s
just announced his left testicle has fallen off. It’s almost comical the way their faces mimic each
other, eyebrows high and mouths popped open.

It takes him a moment. He can almost hear his brain sloshing in his head to make the mental
connections it needs to. Oh right! If Harry said it’s not puppy love, he must mean it’s actual love.
With this thought, Niall mentally slaps his own forehead while at the same time assessing his best
course of action to lessen the tension zipping through the air.

“Where did you say you were from,” Niall distracts the woman at his side, the only other person
outside of their little friend group privy to the situation at hand. As she delightfully doles out an
answer much longer than needed for the question he’s asked, he can see in his peripherals Gemma
pull a confused Harry away from the table while she politely asks if anyone needs another drink.
Niall nods at the woman with feigned interest and peeks at Louis who seems to be staring dazedly
at the table in front of him. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of nodding and humming back
to whatever she’s babbling on about, the woman pats his hand and says, “just need to run to the
ladies’ room, Hun. You’re such a good listener. I really appreciate it.”

“Happy to help!” Niall might be yelling again, he’s almost certain he’s yelling, or talking very very
loudly at minimum, but he can’t control the extreme relief he feels to finally be able to scoot over
next to Louis’ chair.

“Hey, mate. How are you?” Niall glances at Anne, who is deep in conversation across the table.
“Smoke?”

“You don’t smoke, or are you that off your arse that you’ve forgotten.”

“I don’t, but I think you could use one, from the looks of ye.”

Louis finally glances up from the table to meet Niall’s eyes. He acquiesces with a rough nod. He
looks floored. His cheeks hallowed and the shape of his eyes following the same downturn as the
sides of his mouth.

The pair maneuver their way through the busy restaurant and sneak out the front door into the cold
night air. Louis pulls a pack of smokes from his pocket and holds them out to Niall.

“What the hell, why not.” Niall hugs himself, taking the smoke and leaning in as Louis thumbs his
lighter to life. The orange flame dances erratically before Louis shields it with his hand. It’s not
like Niall doesn’t occasionally smoke weed, at least having a cigarette will keep him from focusing
on the fact that he’s freezing his ass off in just a jumper and jeans.
“Niall, did he… ?”

“He’s drunk. Don’t make it bigger than it is.”

“Aren’t people more honest when they’re drunk?” Louis exhales a puff of smoke and leans back
on the wall behind him.

“Sure look, but I thought you really liked him.” Niall coughs around a drag of his cigarette feeling
lightheaded instantly.

“I do. I really do. I just thought it was… dunno… infatuation, or what that lady said.”

“Puppy love? I mean what’s the difference really?”

“I guess one is real and the other is like… I guess it could be real some day. We literally JUST
met.”

“So? I don’t think love is the same for everyone. Sometimes it takes a long time and sometimes it’s
right away. How do you know whatever you feel isn’t ‘real’. I mean it seems pretty real to me.”

“I dunno, Niall. It’s just a lot. I don’t get it. I can’t get enough of him, but isn’t that just a crush?”

Niall takes another drag, his fingers turning red from a biting draft of wind that swirls by. The skin
on his hands is already chapped from being exposed too often to the dry winter air. He ponders
Louis’ comment for a second as he eyes his raw knuckles. It’s not like he’s been in love before, but
he’s seen it. His gran and her girlfriend, the one she met after his grandad passed. That’s love. And
his aunt and uncle who can’t keep their hands off each other for more than five seconds at a time.
Even his own parents, with all their fighting, still have love for each other.

“Is it?”

“You’re not helping here.”

“Ok how does he make you feel when you’re together?” Niall’s vision is a tad blurry and he’s
honestly impressed he’s making semi-coherent sentences. He wonders how drunk Louis is. His
glassy eyes make Niall think just as drunk as himself. They’ve been going drink for drink, so
unless Louis all of a sudden can hold his liquor better than he has in the past, he’s gotta be pretty
hammered too.

“Erm, stupid, but in a good giggly way. And um tingly.”

“Right. Right.” Niall mulls this over. “And when you thought he was hurt the other day? How
‘bout then? I saw how scared you were.”

“Yeah, I was scared shitless and felt protective, or summat. I kind of always feel like that with him.
Like I wanna keep him safe and happy.”

“Sounds a lot like love to me. Maybe just stop worrying about how quick it’s happening and just
enjoy it. Wait? Has Harry been keeping up with us? On the drinks I mean.”

“Uh, yeah I reckon.”

“Lou!” Niall slaps the side of Louis’ head lightly, shocked at how oblivious he can be sometimes.
“Weren’t we calling him lightweight for a reason? You’re gonna be holding back his hair as he
barfs later and then you’ll know exactly how in love with him you are.”
“Oh fuck! You better love us both. You know how I am when other people get sick.”

“I do. Will never forget you and Liam sharing the toilet to take turns that one night. Li had chunks
of your sick in his hair the next day.”

Both Niall and Louis gag at the memory as they butt out their cigarettes. They walk the few feet to
the door, which Niall holds open and they shiver their way back to their table. Gemma and Harry
catch them before they get there. The way Harry’s face lights up with a huge dimply smile and
droopy green eyes as he reaches to Louis for a cuddle, confirms Niall’s suspicions. The boy is
drunk. Like drunk drunk. Room spinning, can’t walk kind of drunk. He nuzzles his face into Louis’
neck and Louis fondly tucks his own head closer to Harry’s messy brown curls.

“You smell like smoke, Lou. Smoking is bad, but you make it look sooooo hot, but you should
quit,” Harry mumbles from his nook in Louis’ shoulder.

Louis rubs his back in big circles. “That’s true, love.”

Gemma has one hand on Harry’s side like she’s holding him up right, “Thank god we found you!
He almost took a nosedive right on the table and he’s got a major case of the giggles. I’m gonna
stay here with mum, but I ordered an uber if you both don’t mind taking him home. Think he’s had
more than enough.”

Niall salutes Gemma in what he deems a very serious manner, but she just rolls her eyes and shakes
her head a bit. She looks to Louis, “you’re in charge. Can you get these two boneheads to bed and
make sure they’re safe, like on their sides and all that? I’d come help, but I don’t want to leave
mum on her own.”

“It’s good, Gemma. I’ve got them.” Louis answers sounding much less drunk than he did moments
before.

“Oh, tell that lady goodnight for me, ok, Gem?” Niall asks. He doesn’t want his new friend
thinking he just took off after their chat. A chat that he can’t remember much of if he’s honest.

“Ok Niall,” Gemma laughs. “I’ll tell her.” She shoves three coats that have been tucked under her
other arm into Niall’s hands, waving and giving Louis one more questioning look before heading
back to the table.

Niall instinctively goes to Louis’ other side, helping to unhook Harry’s clingy frame from around
him so both are under one of his arms, steadying his drooping body.

“Nialler!” Harry cuddles his face into Niall’s, rubbing his nose on Niall’s cheek. Niall can’t help,
but giggle.

“I love youuuuuu!” Harry sings placing a kiss on Niall’s head as the three of them start walking
towards the door.

“And I love you, mate.” Niall laughs, rubbing his free hand in Harry’s hair.

Louis makes a harumphing noise that catches their attention.

“Oh,” Harry says. “I love you too, Louis.” His voice is soft and intimate. Different than the loudly
bellowed words he’d directed at Niall.

“I reckon jackets outside might be best. It’s a tad crowded in here. Not sure we’ll be able to get
him in his without some maneuvering,” Louis ignores Harry’s statement as they approach the
wooden double doors at the entrance.

Niall nods. Even though it’s loud in the room, there’s a tense silence like a gas leak making the air
heavy, Harry’s unanswered declaration of love clearly apparent to all of them.

Niall is chilled instantly when they step back outside. He just barely started feeling warm from
their last excursion out here. Louis uses the wall for leverage to help hold Harry up, while Niall
quickly sneaks into his jacket. It’s obvious where Harry’s head’s at. It’s written all over his face as
he stares at Louis with round sleepy eyes. Louis props him up against the brick of the building and
looks at anything other than Harry.

With a flourish, Niall drags the zipper on his coat as high as it will go and attempts to switch spots
so Louis can pull on his jacket next. Of course, he gets batted away by Louis’ delicate, but firm
hands. Without words Louis manages to communicate that he wants to get Harry in his warm
clothes instead. But the effort is fruitless between Harry’s wiggling and Louis’ cold fingers not
being able to maneuver Harry’s coat quickly enough.

Has he never been on a plane before, you always put your own mask on first.

Harry is breathing hot breaths on Niall’s neck while he continues to look at Louis. He seems so
much bigger and ganglier when drunk. Niall can barely keep him up right. Louis is in his jacket in
seconds and has Harry’s arm positioned to be slid into his sleeve when Harry says, “I’m sorry,
Lou.” He covers his face with his hands ruining any progress they’d made with the jacket.

“Nothing to be sorry about, love, but it’s cold, so you need to put your jacket on.”

“Gemma said I shouldn’t say I love you. I didn’t mean… I mean… I do, but um... is too soon.”

“Come on, Harry. You need to get into your coat. It’s freezing. Is not good for you.”

Harry pushes his unruly curls off his sweaty brow. “Am hot, Lou. It’s fine, but um you didn’t say it
back. So, she was right. It’s too soon. Forget I said it.”

“I don’t want to forget it.” Louis blows his fringe out of his eyes as he tries once again to get Harry
to cooperate.

Niall wants to give them space, but he thinks Louis would rather he help with Harry’s arms, which
seem to currently have a mind of their own as he tries to wriggle out of Louis’ grasp. The pair
manage to get one arm in a sleeve before Harry gets away again, taking a few steps and almost
wiping out on a patch of ice.

“I can do it myself,” he huffs, his lips pouting out as he chases his other sleeve, that’s hanging
behind him, like a dog chases his tail.

“Yeah, we know, but why don’t you let us help?” Niall jumps in. He and Louis are standing
awkwardly trying to catch Harry in case he falls. They both let out a frosty breath when he secures
his wrist into the gaping armhole and squirms into his other sleeve.

The uber pulls up as they confirm they have their phones and wallets, Louis checking for Harry by
patting at his pockets. Harry insists on Niall sitting in the middle seat and is seemingly staring at
the Christmas lights that send multi-coloured hues across his face as they drive down the busy
main street. Niall loves the lights and gets caught up in them himself for a moment. It’s not until
they hit the dark highway that the silence of the three of them becomes noticeable. The driver has
Christmas music playing, but it’s so low it’s difficult to determine what song is even on.
Niall leans into Louis. “Why don’t you just say it back?” He signals subtly with his eyes to Harry.

“I am not telling him I love him for the first time when he is drunk off his arse. He can pout all he
wants.”

“Just tell him it’s not too soon for him to love you.”

“This is literally exhausting.” Louis lets his head drop into his hands. “Harold,” Louis says a little
louder so Harry can hear. Harry ignores him and continues to stare out the window. “Harry.” This
time Louis speaks loud enough for the driver to hear as well. Harry gives an uninterested look in
his direction.

“Listen, I am honoured you told me you love me, but you’re really drunk right now and I think
that’s something we should talk about later. But to be clear it is definitely not too soon.”

The driver turns a smirking glance at them to which Louis rolls his eyes, but then looks back at
Harry sincerely. Niall holds his breath, eyes darting from Louis to Harry. A giant grin breaks
across Harry’s face.

“Swap with me, Nialler. I want to sit by my boyfriend.” Harry paws at Niall with his giant hands,
mainly just tickling Niall’s sides as he tries to move from his seat without unbuckling his belt.

“We’re gonna be home in no time,” Niall bubbles out laughs as Harry continues his attack. Louis
chuckles from his other side. “Honestly you are the lightest of light weights. Did you guzzle a
bottle of something when we weren’t looking?”

Harry just giggles, his lids partly covering his eyes and his body shaking as he expels soundless
laughter into his hand. “Not a bottle, but some guy gave me a gummy in the bathroom,” he finally
manages to get out.

“Sorry say that again.

The car is deathly silent as Niall waits for a response that doesn't come. Instead, all he gets is
Harry staring doe eyed at him.

Are you telling me you took drugs from a random stranger in a bathroom when I would have been
happy to give you something you know is one hundred percent safe and legal?” Niall can’t believe
it. He’s not even gonna chance looking at Louis because he knows what his expression will be.

It’s not like they all haven’t taken something from a friend of a friend, but Harry taking something
from some complete random person feels so scary. He’s just so innocent even if he often looks like
walking sex. Harry still hasn’t answered. He just looks at Niall with a small smile, his cheeks
pinking slightly.

“Harry what the fuck?” Niall has more to say, but Louis rests a light hand on his chest.

“Just leave it for now. He’s not gonna remember this. Not after what he drank and being high too.”

And that’s shocking. Niall expected Louis would be pissed. Not just because Harry did something
stupid, but because Louis and jealousy could literally be side by side in the dictionary that’s how
much Louis epitomizes the emotion. Instead, he just looks tired.

The rest of the ride is quiet, Harry’s head on Niall’s shoulder after he quickly forgets Niall’s
admonishment. Louis helps them both out of the car and upstairs. Niall is most definitely still
drunk, it turns out. When they get into the apartment after an awkward walk up the stairs he heads
straight to his room. Louis calls out to him before he can get there though.

“We’re sleeping in the living room. You’re still too drunk too. Grab your pillow and blankets.”

Niall’s too tired to argue so he does what Louis says. After bumbling into his pyjamas, he grabs his
sleeping stuff and drags it and himself into the main room. Louis has managed to get him and
Harry ready for bed as well. He’s laid one set of sheets on the floor and is tucking Harry in on the
couch.

“You’re over there, Niall.” He points to the other side of the couch. Niall follows his direction,
crawling into his spot and pulling his sheets over himself the best he can. They’re all askew, but
the room is spinning so he doesn’t care.

Louis gives Harry’s head a light pat, then comes and fixes Niall’s blankets for him. He pours three
large glasses of water, setting them on the table with a bottle of acetaminophen pills. He shakes
them at Niall.

“These are here if you need them.”

“Hmph,” Niall grunts because he’s too tired to do much else and also the room just won’t stop
spinning. He’s worried if he says much more, he’ll empty his guts all over the carpet.

The room goes dark. Likely Louis has turned off the lights. Niall doesn’t open his eyes to see. He
can just tell from the way the darkness behind his eyelids increases.

“Goodnight, Niall,” Louis whispers. “Wake me if you need anything, ok?”

“Mmm… night.” Niall gets out. He has almost drifted off when Harry’s quiet voice breaks the
silence of the room.

“Lou?”

“I’m here Harry. What’s up?” Louis whispers back.

“Are you mad?”

“No, not mad. Go to sleep.”

“Why are you down there?”

“Wanted to give you space.”

“I don’t want space. Can you come up here please?”

Niall’s chest is heaving with the intimacy of the quiet words that feel like they’re floating in the
darkness around him. He hears a mess of shuffling sounds before Harry speaks again, even quieter
this time.

“Hi.”

“Hi back.”

Niall cringes at the smacking of kissing noises that suddenly feel like they are literally right in his
ear drum. He is all for love, but listening to other people kiss is an entirely different matter. He
very much wants to shove his head under his pillow, but then Harry and Louis would know he’s
been listening to them and also colour him intrigued, but he wants to see where this all goes. Not
the kissing, but the conversation. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait too long before the saliva sounds
cease.

“Why’d you do it?”

“The gummy?”

“Yeah. I mean I am all for edibles, but like from some random guy. Just doesn’t seem like you.”

“It’s not not like me. Sometimes I can be a little wild.” Harry giggles. “I just wanted to forget all
the shit in my head and have a good night. Wasn’t really thinking. He looked ok, so I figured…”

“I don’t need to know what he looked like. Guessing tall and handsome.”

“Louuuu. Are you jealous? No need, babe. He was grotesque, like so much so.”

“Really?”

“No. He was hot, but you’re hotter. Also, I would never call someone grotesque. That’s just mean.”

Niall has to hold back a giggle, cuddling further into his blankets. He can’t tell what’s warmer, the
fleece around his body, or the happy tingle in his rib cage.

The room is still for at least a minute. Even Niall feels awkward, or maybe only he feels it. Maybe
the other two fell asleep. He closes his eyes again assuming that’s the case and judges if his
stomach lurching will settle, or if he needs to go try to make himself be sick. He’s startled from his
thoughts when Louis begins to whisper again.

“Whatever this is with me and you, you know it’s real, right? You can feel it and I can feel it. I
don’t know how it works beyond that, but since it’s real, I know we’ll sort it out. Does that make
sense?”

After another elongated pause, Harry snuffles, “It is?”

“Heeeeey. Hey. This isn’t what happens in romcoms when the leading guy spills his guts to the
leading lady.”

“Wait, why am I the lady?” Harry asks wetly. Niall can almost picture his pouty, sad face.

“Because you’re prettier than me.”

“Who says?”

“Ok whatever, when the leading lady spills her guts. Better?”

Niall’s not sure how long he’s being holding his breath, but it feels like forever as he waits for
Harry to respond.

“Harold, why are you crying?”

“Dunno. Am sad and that was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Then why are you sad?”

“You know why.”

“Babe, it’ll only be a couple of months. We’ll sort it out. Don’t know how, but there are work visas
for a reason.”

“I know. I’m just drunk and being a suck. I know it’s only been like five minutes, but I like you. I
mean I like you like you. You’re funny. No wait! You’re a magnet…”

“I went from being funny to being a magnet, bit of a downgrade, I reckon.”

Harry continues as if Louis didn’t interrupt, “and I’m a house key, or loose change. When you’re
around I just wanna be near you.” Harry sleepily yawns out the last bit, so Niall can barely make
out the words.

“Alright, Casanova,” Louis whispers fondly. “It’s time to sleep for you. We’ll talk about this
tomorrow.”

Niall hears one last kiss. It’s quiet like a peck and makes Niall rethink his stance on kissing noises
altogether. This one doesn’t sound gross at all. He sighs. It sounds pretty delightful actually.
 Chapter 18
Chapter Summary

Hey there! Another chapter as promised. This one is a little angsty with some
references of anxiety and intrusive thoughts. We get a bit more of Harry's romantic
past, which could be triggering for some.

The only comforting thing that greets Harry when he wakes up the next day is the smell of Louis’
pillow that he’s clinging onto like a life raft. He’s alone in Louis’ too bright apartment, on Louis’
very uncomfortable couch with a mouth dryer than an expired rice cake and a headache that would
rival a spartan army poking their spikey things right into his brain.

He groans as the night before flashes in his memory. Things had been going so good. The last three
days had been like nothing Harry had ever experienced in his romantic life. He’s a little stunned by
it. Now that he’s seen what a good guy is actually like, he can’t believe what he put up with
previously. And, more importantly, he doesn’t want to lose what he’s got. Or possibly had, if last
night was bad enough.

Between having a ridiculous amount of sex (some of it so so sweet and some hilarious and some
even a tad awkward when they try a maneuver Harry’s awkward limbs won’t cooperate with) he
and Louis had laughed, talked, cuddled, even gone night boarding, in the dreamy few days. The
thrill Harry gets now when Louis tries to provide adjustments and tips as he’s riding down the hill
is embarrassing in its transparency. Instructor Louis is hot as fuck.

It's ruining their precarious happy little bubble that has him metaphorically kicking his own ass for
being such a clingy prat the previous night. The gummy thing, at the time, really hadn’t felt like a
big deal. But he knows he’s a people pleaser and when it comes to really good-looking guys, that’s
even more true. Something he should probably discuss with a therapist, really. So when the tall,
dark-haired guy had smiled at him at the bar and asked if he was having a good time, Harry had
been drunk enough to grin back and easily answer, “yup”. Somehow after a five-minute chat, which
Harry is pretty sure consisted of him babbling about Louis for the brunt of, the guy had offered
him the gummy.

Harry didn’t give it much thought. It was only an edible and he’d done them enough times before.
Plus, he was pretty drunk and, aside from that, it was the kind of behaviour Olly would have
supported. That’s probably also true of any other guy he’d previously been with. He should have
known Louis wouldn’t be impressed, but from what he remembers Niall was the one who was the
most mad. Louis just seemed disappointed. He’s not sure which he feels worse about. He's always
heard that disappointing someone is generally considered the more loathsome of the two, but
making Niall angry is actually pretty terrifyingly horrible.

Harry ponders this for too long as the cool air chills his sweaty legs. They’re sticking out oddly
from Louis’ comforter and the room is definitely not warm. He doesn’t know how the other boys
live here without being perpetually swaddled in blankets. He swallows a dry lump in his throat,
being brought back to his previous line of thought. Maybe they’d forgive him, or rather, make an
allowance for his ridiculousness (since forgiveness doesn’t feel like what’s needed) if they knew a
bit more about how guys had treated him in the past. What he’s used to. If Niall and Louis knew
how people generally only focus on his looks and assign him a personality they assume goes along
with that, they’d understand.

And so what if Harry plays into it, never truly being himself and letting his dimples, sheer shirts
and skin-tight pants tell his story? It seems like that’s all people normally want anyway. He can list
dozens of examples. Not that he wants to. Zayn’s face filters into his memory. The dread of pitied
glances from someone literally in a hospital bed, have kept Harry from seeing him. He can’t recall
all the things he blabbered about that day, but he’s pretty sure his embarrassing love life was a
good chunk of it. He hopes he kept the one about Olly pushing him into having a threesome to
himself.

That had been a horrible night. Harry had said he wasn’t really interested in being with anyone
else, but he’d be okay with kissing and like blow jobs and stuff. He definitely didn’t want to fuck,
or be fucked by anyone other than Olly. He agreed it was fine if Olly wanted to do stuff if he used
a condom. And, they did follow all those rules. Harry didn’t have to fuck or get fucked by anyone
and Olly did use a condom with the other guy, but it was still so awkward for Harry. He felt like he
was on the fringes the whole time. That his involvement was merely to watch his boyfriend
aggressively humping another guy, which wasn't at the top of his list of things he particularly
wanted to do.

He cringes as he remembers the way he cried afterwards. He’d known in that moment Olly didn’t
really give a shit about him, sleeping contently as tears streamed down Harry’s face. He hadn’t let
himself believe it though. Embarrassingly, that was the night Harry had let the sleeping “I love
you” slip, which is still so odd because he had never, not once, felt like he loved Olly.

It’s that difference from how Olly (or any person he’s been with) made him feel to the way Louis
does that repeatedly had him uttering his drunken devotion the night before. So maybe he
shouldn’t have reacted in this relationship based on the trauma the previous ones left behind, but it
wasn’t on purpose. Surely Louis would get that. But he doesn’t want Louis to have to get it. He
wishes this time would have gone differently. That overly dramatic and too attached wouldn’t be
descriptors Louis could use when he finally decides to call the whole thing off. For fuck’s sake!
He’s not even twenty yet and he’s a complete mess.

A familiar tingly feeling shooting under his skin paired with tightness in his chest, make him
instantly clammy. He takes a deep breath, warding off his anxiety. The dryness in his mouth is
unbearable. A tall glass of water sitting on the table, looking like the most beautiful thing he’s ever
seen, catches his eye. The glass is room temperature and so is the liquid inside. Either way it tastes
like summer, bumble bees and the way sunshine looks filtered through the leaves of an oak tree.
He glugs it all in half a second, licking his lips afterwards. When he sets the glass back down, he
notices a piece of paper on the table. Louis has scrawled a quick note in his messy handwriting.

Hey Babe,

Stay as long as you want. There’s food in the fridge. Niall also left you his sure-fire hangover cure
smoothie in there too. It’s got your name on it. Make yourself at home. I mean it. Shower, chill,
whatever and text me later. We should talk.

Louis

Underneath it in a cleaner, loopier script sits a second message.

Morning Harry, WE love you. Drink the smoothie :) Nialler

Niall’s message makes him feel more at ease than Louis’ does. Leave it to Niall, he seems to know
exactly what to say to make Harry feel calm and understood. It’s with a good deal of effort that
Harry shuffles over to the fridge. He realizes Louis must have undressed him at some point
because he’s wearing a slightly too small t-shirt that doesn’t belong to him and his boxer briefs. He
scratches his leg as his head pounds and his stomach lurches. Even the glow of the interior of the
fridge hurts his eyes. The shelves seem to taunt him with their scant options. He spots the sandy
coloured beverage with a piece of paper taped to the glass and his name in capital letters ending
with an oversized exclamation point written on it in sharpie.

It doesn’t look very appealing, but if it’ll make him feel better, he will happily drink swamp water
at this point. A quick sniff over the glass tells him that there’s a good amount of peanut butter in
whatever Niall has concocted. He takes a tentative sip and while his stomach doesn’t seem too
happy, he can’t say the drink tastes bad. He glugs the rest back, the thick liquid coating his throat.

Feeling guilty for everything that happened with Louis, plus being a crap son and brother too (he’s
not one to get completely blitzed in front of Anne, or Gemma) and wasting another day in bed, he
walks back to the couch. Wrapping Louis’ comforter around him, he grabs his pillow by two
fingers, letting it drag on the ground as he shuffles along. He must look like quite the sight and he’s
honestly too ashamed to deal with himself at the moment. More sleep is all he has the energy for.
Pushing Louis’ door open, he’s greeted with the usual chaos of the space. Harry disregards it,
crossing the room in a couple of steps and curling into a ball on Louis’ mattress.

A sound in the apartment has him opening his eyes quickly what feels like moments later, but a
glance at the clock tells him it’s been a couple of hours. He’s still got the comforter wrapped
around him like a cape and pulls it tighter as he creeps to the hallway. With his head poked out the
door he peeks in every direction to see if anyone’s around. He’s met with Dave kicking out of his
shoes in the little entrance area.

“Oh shit! Hello there.” Dave grins darkly. “You’re looking rough.”

“Um hi.”

“Heard you guys had quite the night.”

Harry grips the blanket, his knuckles going white. “You did? Um why… why are you here by the
way?”

“The boys let me stay when I want. Been picking up some shifts, so it just makes sense. Louis
didn’t mention it?”

Harry doesn’t bother to respond.

“What are you doing here? Sleeping off the hangover? Must be a good one with the number you
did on poor, Lou.”

Dave’s words create a sinking in Harry’s stomach a thousand times worse than anything alcohol
inspired. Dave knows it. It’s obvious by the way he smirks and saunters past. “Just jumping in the
shower if you want to join me,” he remarks flippantly. “Or do I need to offer you a gummy first.”

Instead of sinking, Harry’s now sunk. The water is gushing around him just like that night at the
pool, but Louis’ not here to save him this time.

“He told you about that?” Harry finally manages to spit out just as Dave turns to walk into the
bathroom.

“Not directly,” Dave answers simply, giving Harry a look over his shoulder as if Harry will
suddenly accept his invitation from a moment before. Tears threaten Harry’s tired eyes. He hates
being so quick to cry and he’s not letting it happen this time. Not in front of this dickhead anyway.
He turns to shut the door, but Dave continues before he can. “I don’t get it. We both know I’m
good looking and I didn’t make a list of shit to do to get you to dislike me. So, what is it? Got a
thing for bad boys? Because I can be that.”

The crazy thing is, it looks like Dave is actually fucking asking. His expression is completely
sincere, like he genuinely thinks Harry has a reason for not wanting to hook-up with him other than
that Harry just doesn’t hook-up with every single person he finds remotely attractive. Not that he
finds Dave attractive. He’s alright, but his personality takes away from any good looks he has.
Harry wonders if he has a sign on his chest that reads “slut” in huge letters because it’s becoming
increasingly obvious that’s what people seem to think of him.

He hasn’t even considered what Dave’s said about some kind of list because it’s gotta be bullshit.
He can only be talking about Louis and why would Louis do something like that? Well, other than
wanting to get the extreme clinger who pronounced their love for him way too soon to back off
without too much drama. So maybe not that farfetched, but Harry’s already in an absolute spiral
and he can’t deal with more.

The audacity of Dave to look put out when Harry closes the door literally sums up all the things
wrong with his life. Now that he’s alone in the room, Harry’s eyes wander over the floor. He’s
looking for something heavy to bar the way. Not that he thinks Dave would come in without Harry
okaying it, but if he has to hear another word from the kid currently, he has a feeling he’ll
completely lose his shit. Settling for the little Ikea table, Louis has his gaming systems on, Harry
sets everything on it aside and plunks the fake wooden piece of furniture in front of the door.
Louis’ bed is calling his name and he’s almost instantly asleep when he curls up on the mattress
again.

It's been a day of sleeping and waking. The room is dark when Harry flutters his eyes open the next
time. There’s a loud knocking on the door and then a quieter sound similar to a wooden garden
gate opening and closing in a wind storm. Harry needs a moment to acclimatize to his
surroundings. He sits up straight and watches as the door hits the table a couple times threatening
to knock it over, if it weren’t for the crap all over the floor keeping it in place.

“Harry, you in there?”

Harry tumbles over his feet, groggy from oversleeping. He manages to get to the door and moves
the table out of the way. The light that shines in the room creates a halo around Louis who is
standing in the hall much like an angel with a brown paper bag that smells like heaven to boot.

The look on Louis face is one Harry’s seen from his mother before, usually when he’s doing
something silly that he knows she adores. He blinks a few times, still getting used to the light.

“Hey, you.” Louis says, grinning. “Did you sleep all day?”

“Most of it,” Harry mumbles, itching his head and feeling what must be wild bedhead based on
how far out his hair is sticking in the one spot he touched.

“You look cute. Oh, and I come bearing gifts.” Louis holds the bag up. “Hangover food. Can I
come in?”

“I mean it’s your room, but I think I smell.”

Louis just chuckles and follows Harry to the bed. He flicks on his desk lamp, apparently sensing
Harry’s preference for the dark in the current moment. “Best bloody veggie burger around, and
fries of course. What was up with the table?”

Harry digs out his dinner from the depths of the bag, his stomach grumbling in anticipation.

“Oh, didn’t want Dave to come in while I was sleeping,” he remarks offhandedly, unwrapping the
foil paper and taking a giant bite of what appears to be a mushroom based patty. He looks at it
appreciatively, trying to mumble around the food in his mouth, “S’ is good.”

“Sorry. Backup please. Why were you worried Dave would come in here?”

“It’s stupid. Nothing really.”

Harry can feel Louis’ eyes on him as he stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth. He could ask about
the list. He wants to, but he’s been too much drama lately as it is. Instead, he keeps chewing,
pulling his legs up to his chest.

Louis knocks Harry’s knee with his, “After dinner you wanna have a shower and go hang with
Anne and Gemma?”

Yes! Yes! That’s exactly what Harry wants. He couldn’t have verbalized it moments before. Wasn’t
even aware that’s what he needed, but the words coming from Louis' lips feel like a lifeboat from
his hangover melancholy.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks for this by the way. Hadn’t eaten since Niall’s smoothie.”

Louis simply knocks their knees together again in response, earning a grin from Harry as he
chomps down on another handful of fries.

Harry feels infinitely better after their shower. Louis washed his hair, managing to avoid
concussing either of them during the process. It was soft and quiet. Like Louis knew that’s what
Harry needed. He’s good at judging people’s moods and offering a little nudge of support when
warranted. Harry has noticed that often in the little time they’ve had so far.

Their night with Gemma and Anne is quiet too. Gemma will of course pepper him with questions
later, she always knows when things aren’t quite right in his world. But for the time being they’re
all settled in the living room watching Mickey’s Christmas Carol, a fan favorite in the Styles’s
home. Every now and again Louis tries to mimic Donald Duck’s voice, his accent making the
attempts all the more ridiculous, but Harry likes how their bodies vibrate in laughter each time.
Being the little spoon, he can feel the moment Louis goes to speak, a thrill running through his
body in anticipation of the words. He hasn’t been let down yet by what Louis has come out with. In
between his random commentary, Louis plays with Harry’s hair, twirling bits around his fingers,
rubbings up behind his ears and tracing his crown. It’s an odd combination, the way he makes
Harry feel giddy and grounded all at once.

The movie ends and Gemma yawns loudly, “last night took its toll. It’s bedtime for me.” She
gathers up her blanket and pillow and calls, “goodnight, lovelies” from halfway up the stairs.

The way Harry’s staring awkwardly out in space at the mention of the previous evening, means he
barely registers her leaving. They haven’t talked about the night before yet. Harry doesn’t really
want to either. Anne leans over and gives them both an exaggerated kiss on the head.

“Good night, boys.”

Still not focused on what’s happening around him, Harry makes a conscious effort to tune in when
Louis asks, “You ready too?”

“You’re staying?”

“You don’t want me to?”

“No. I uh. I mean I’m not really in the mood to…”

“Babe, we’re boyfriends not fuck buddies. We can be in a bed together and not have sex.”

Harry can’t help but giggle. “Niall would probably disagree based on what we put him through
these past few days.”

“Niall eats this shit up. Have you noticed how happy he is lately? All that chirpy laughter like
some kind of high-pitched dodo bird. That’s all us.”

Rubbing his chest like he’s the Grinch and can all of a sudden feel his heart growing, Harry very
much wants to ask if Niall’s still mad. He doesn’t though. The words linger at his lips. Because if
he asks, then they’re gonna have to talk about everything else that happened, which no thanks.

He picks the blanket off himself and stands, turning and holding out a hand for Louis. When Louis
takes it, the vibe is reminiscent of a Victorian couple exiting one of those fancy black carriages.
Harry can’t pretend he hasn’t had that fantasy more than once. He loves vintage elegance. Of
course, he wouldn’t want to travel back in time for the fantasy to come true. Because, well that’s
pretty obvious. He once again feels horrible for people from different times, or places for not being
able to experience the freedom he can in regards to who he loves. The thought lingers, but another
tab opens in his brain that softly says, ‘there’s always the wedding.’

He's tempted to facepalm himself with force. Wants to take some soapy water and clean this shit
out of his brain. Instead, he internally curses. ‘Jesus, Harry! There’s romantic and then there’s
batshit crazy. You’re not Bella in Twilight and you’re not getting married anytime soon. So, chill
the fuck out.’

His brain’s a bit turbulent while they quietly make their way upstairs hand in hand. He keeps
picturing what Louis would look like in a vintage tux, but can’t decide what his favourite era would
be for the style of it. While they undress, he imagines how Louis would do his hair, down and to
the side, tidy and messy at the same time.

It’s after Louis emerges from the bathroom, his face all glowy and clean, that he smirks and asks
quietly, “Hey Sun, what’s on your mind over there?”

Harry looks up confused. He’s standing in his briefs and had been staring at a spot on the floor like
a computer on sleep mode. He’s not telling Louis he’d just been imagining Louis’ wedding look,
that’s for sure.

“Oh, um nothing. Just really tired.” He makes a show of yawning overdramatically to which Louis
just rolls his eyes. Harry’s never been that great at faking things.

“Alright then, little spoon, lets get to bed.” Louis energetically climbs to what is now his spot by
the wall.

Harry tucks in after him, shutting off the light. He likes when Louis pulls him so tight there’s not
an inch of space between Louis’ chest and his own back. He still has that sinking feeling in his
stomach, a tightness in his chest and a lump in his throat, that no matter how much slow breathing
he does, he can’t get rid of. Louis’ hand flattens between Harry’s pecs, as if he can sense the
constriction, like he’s going to magically pull the anxiety out of Harry with that warm, sturdy, flat
palm. Harry can picture it leaving like a dark, wispy, vapour as he drifts off.

**

Louis has felt pretty flustered, since the karaoke night. Harry hasn’t mentioned anything about it
since and Louis has no idea what he remembers and what he doesn’t. He wants to tell Harry that his
feelings are returned times a thousand, probably, if not more. And if that means saying those
words that are literally just words like any others, then Louis can do that. The thing is words have
never been his strong suit. He loves poetry, and he’s decent at writing down his thoughts, but
that’s different than articulating them from his mouth to another individual, especially when the
receiver has giant green eyes and the most expressive face that he often finds he gets entirely lost
in.

Five days have somehow flown by since that fateful evening and apart from the first sleepover at
Harry’s place, they’ve been back at it like rabbits ever since. Louis is a little worried Harry might
be masking in a sense. Any of the cute sexual awkwardness that he had in the beginning seems to
have vanished. With it, that good balance of intimacy versus straight up lust has also been lost. The
jokes, the silliness, all of Louis favourite bonding stuff—gone.

No, the Harry he is with now is on a mission: fucking Louis hard up against whatever free wall he
can find in his cluttered apartment; having Louis fuck him senseless draped over a random piece of
furniture in front of the large open windows in Harry’s room; giving Louis a blow job under a
bunch of blankets on a cozy night up on his roof deck.

Don’t get him wrong, they’ve managed to talk about lots of shit amidst the sex flurry, but nothing
of consequence. And he still can’t get enough of Harry, but he almost feels like he’s not getting all
of Harry, or not the real him anyway. Of course, Louis matches this new energy because he’ll give
Harry literally whatever he wants. So, in essence it feels like they’ve gone back to their original
bet. Each trying to one up the other in the smut department. The teasing is at an all-time-high and
the level of adventure in their exploits builds with each experience. With both trying to make the
sex as pleasurable for the other person as possible, they attempt to pick up on cues to what the
other likes and take that to the extreme. But instead of the end goal being to make the other cave
and want to have sex first, it’s like some over-the-top sex-a-thon they’re using to solidify their
relationship before Harry leaves. And Louis has decided it needs to end.

After mulling it over for the last few days, he’s come to the conclusion that this must be to do with
the unsaid ‘I love you’. Got to be it. And like all urgent matters that he can’t fix on his own, he’s
called an apartment meeting to figure out what to do because he can’t just randomly drop an ‘I love
you’ on an unsuspecting Harry. He’s tried his best to make Harry talk about real stuff, but the kid
can be quite stubborn and evasive when he wants to be. At one point he even used weird random
horse noises rather than answer Louis’ question about his recollection of Karaoke night.

So, it's with a tentative hopefulness that he finds himself happily surrounded by all his friends.
Even Ed came to help. He still can’t believe he found a time between shifts where they were all
free. As if proof of this, Niall’s in his snow gear with a lesson in forty-five minutes, chowing down
on a huge sandwich, mustard and mayo threatening to get all over his puffy jacket. Zayn, who
finally got released from the hospital after an extended stay due to a delay with his testing, is
wrapped up in a blanket and in Liam. His leg is in a bulky white cast. He managed to avoid
surgery, or any other serious issues, so no one is complaining.

Louis has noticed Harry’s been skittish around Zayn recently, resulting in neither of them seeing
Zayn, or Liam all that often. He still needs to talk to Li, but with such a short time before Harry
leaves, everything else has taken a backseat to the curly-headed boy. He’s happy Liam has Zayn in
a teddy bear hug because otherwise Louis would want to wrap his arms around his fragile looking
friend, who is all smiles and glittering brown eyes.

Ed steals a chip from the giant bag beside Niall and Niall teasingly slaps his hand before tossing
him the bag.

“Just tell him you love him. What’s so hard?” Ed says as he crunches and tries not to spray mouth
crumbs everywhere while shrugging his shoulders.

“I can’t. Harry’s like a rescue dog right now. The wrong move and he’s gonna go hide under a
table for a week. And I only have seven and a half more days with him. I can’t risk it.”

Zayn itches around his cast while he thinks. He’s the first to speak, which feels right. Louis has
been focused on him more than the other boys, who in all honesty look a little lost, and plus, Zayn
knows more about Harry than even Louis does.

“I don’t get it. Why the change. He seemed pretty um… open before the other night, right? He
must remember what happened and just be embarrassed. So, if you tell him how you feel, he won’t
be embarrassed anymore. Done and dusted.”

“I’ve tried. I reckon it’s more than that. And the other day, the day after, when I found him here
asleep, he mentioned something about Dave that was really weird, but he wouldn’t tell me more.
All I know is he seemed really really sad. I haven’t wanted to push too hard since. He’s just so in
his head.”

“You know the two of you are meant for each other. You’re both a fucking mess of emotions that
neither of you know how to deal with properly.”

“As if that’s uncommon. You’ve basically described everyone on the entire planet, there.”

Zayn just smirks and Louis knows yeah, he’s right.

“Ok fine. Show me someone other than you, Niall and Ed who’s in touch with their feelings, then.”

“What about me?” Liam asks offended, to which Louis simply cocks a brow and levels him with
an incredulous look. Zayn literally busts out laughing.

“Oh.” Liam blushes. “Right. Right.”

Zayn rubs Liam’s knee with his thumb. “Don’t worry. You’re getting there, babe.” He elongates
his neck, as he turns his head up to give Liam a kiss on his cheek.

“You gotta go all out. Do the big gesture.”

Everyone turns to Niall because he’s so sure of himself there’s literally no other alternative.

“We’ll help.” The room is quiet as he thinks. “We’ll make a magical romantic winter date for you.
Up on the roof. Don’t think you’re fooling any of us, by the way. I know what you two get up to
up there. We’re gonna keep this one clean. Lights, music, hot chocolate, sugar cookies, a fucking
Christmas tree, thermoses of soup… We’ll make it perfect. Then you tell him exactly how you feel
and finally make a fucking plan for after the season is done.”

Niall takes a giant bite of his sandwich and grins as he chews.

“Yeah, I like it,” Ed says. “I’m on drinks duty. We can do better than hot chocolate. Gonna make
you two a drink in your honour.”

“I call music and décor,” Zayn chimes in.

“And I’ll help with what you’re gonna say to him. I owe him that much, at least.” Liam rubs shyly
at his hairline.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna do shopping with me too.” Zayn tells him. “I’m not hobbling around on
one foot by myself.

The chatter dies down as Louis gets misty eyed. He can’t help it. He’s always been one to cry
easily.

“How did I get so lucky to have fucking friends like you lot?”

“Must have done something really good in a past life, I’d say.”

Normally Louis would roll his eyes at Niall’s unlimited self confidence as he happily pushes out
his chest at the praise, but instead he tackles him with a giant rolling hug, the two of them getting
covered in the remainder of Niall’s sandwich.

“Lewis, you little shit. I’m gonna look a right mess for me next lesson.” Niall croaks, hugging
Louis tightly back.
 Chapter 19
Chapter Summary

So just remember the light angst tag (that I hope I added to this fic) ... I don't want to
spoil anything so that's all you get (and also trust me I won't let you or the characters
down).

Chapter Notes

Hi folks, so I really wanted to upload the rest of the fic in one go, but it's proving to be
longer than I thought it would be. Another chapter is coming in a few days and from
there we only have a couple more chapters to go! Thanks for hanging in :)

Niall has felt like an absolute elf the last two days and he’s loved every second—concocting drinks
with Ed after the dining room closed for the night, shopping with Zayn and Liam and even
working with the resort’s head chef to craft a special soup in Harry and Louis’ honour. Landing on
carrot and turmeric took a good amount of testing. In the end it’s the clear winner, though, because,
one, it’s tasty and, two, apparently it has anti-bloating properties. Niall still isn’t the least bit
embarrassed for asking, “yes, but can they bone like crazy after eating this, or what?” He can't be,
not with the likelihood of physical activity being almost guaranteed based on what he has in store
for these boys. Any discomfort he would normally feel belting out such a direct question, which is
minimal, is washed away in the name of research.

Even though Louis tried to rush it sooner, they’re just now finally ready for the big reveal—Harry
and Louis’ date of all dates. Niall couldn’t be more happy about it. It's like he can feel the clock to
Harry’s departure quickly ticking away just as much as Louis does. The pressure of it is too much.
Once they sort themselves out, make a plan, whatever, they can just enjoy the little bit of time they
have left without all the worry.

He steps out on the roof of their building, surveying the magical Christmas scene they’ve managed
to pull together in such a short amount of time. Added to Louis’ previously strung sparse sets of
string lights are strand after strand of twinkle lights that would put Clark Griswold’s house to
shame. In what Niall has deemed the 'romance corner', they snuck up one of the two-seater
Muskoka chairs from the resort’s smores stations and covered it in Louis’ fake polar bear rug.
Luckily, the forecast is devoid of snow for the rest of the day, which definitely doesn’t hurt their
cause. He places a basket of blankets by the arm of the deck chair and grabs the last two fancy
candle stick holders he’d placed on top.

The patio table is covered in a black linen table cloth and on it sits a beautiful mess of vintage
candelabras and candle stick holders they got for cheap at second hand shop in town. Some are
gold and some painted fun colours. When Louis saw the batch of them proudly displayed in the
Christmas décor section, he’d hit Niall’s arm repeatedly (and hard). Niall rubs his arm as he
remembers. It was the one thing Louis was certain Harry would love. That’s what he told Niall
anyway, excitedly popping up on his tippy toes like a just unleashed jack in the box.
The tapered candle sticks to go inside the holders were possibly the most expensive item they had
to buy and it had been an absolute nightmare finding a store that even sold them. Finally, they
ended up in a specialty shop that had boxes and boxes of hand painted ones, all with little blue
snowflakes. Of course, the price tag matched the uniqueness and Niall had wondered, as Louis
forked over the cash, how he planned to make it through the season with any money for the flight
home.

He sniffs at the crisp air. The strong smell of fire hits him the same as it has since he arrived. It
never gets old, the way there’s always a fire going outside the resort. It makes life feel cozier
somehow. As his eyes land on the pièce de résistance, he gets why Louis warned them about being
homesick. The Christmas tree they placed at the opposite corner of the space is decorated in a mish
mash of random ornaments, whatever they could find, really, ranging from vintage looking ones, to
superheroes, to construction paper hearts and stars he and Zayn made and used to fill any gaps.
Although more of a hodge podge than he’s used to at home, it has that same dressed with love feel.
With it only being a few months since he’s seen his family, it seems silly getting teary over a tree,
but it’s his first Christmas away and he can’t help it. He bets the other boys feel the exact same
when they look at it, especially Louis. Niall has always wanted to press Louis for a bit more info
on his family life. He gets the sense there’s a story there, but he leaves it alone because the mere
mention of them makes Louis look sad and a little wistful.

Even if it makes them all gooey and nostalgic, the tree’s important, so they’ll just have to deal for
Harry’s sake. The plan is, after dinner and dessert, it's where Louis will present Harry with his
gifts. All the boys got him something. Just little tokens to show their friendship. The goal was
inexpensive, but with meaning. Niall picked out a snowboarder ornament to represent the start of
their friendship and just how far Harry has come at the sport. He’s pretty decent now, if Niall says
so himself. Zayn got him a cute pair of mittens. He’d made Niall want to cry when he explained it
was because Harry kept him warm when he got hurt, so now Zayn wants to do the same back. He
lightened the mood with a shrug adding, “plus Harry really likes mittens.” Liam hadn’t had much
time with Harry and knows him less than the other boys do, so they hunted Amazon with him for
something that would work and could be rush shipped. Liam literally squealed when he happened
on a candle proudly stating, “I hope this candle smells better than the shit I put you through.” The
idea had hit Niall at the time that if that candle had feelings, it would know it was loved by Liam’s
immediate reaction on seeing it in his search. And, yes, Niall had been high, but either way he
thinks the sentiment stands.

Louis’ gift is the one that has Niall wondering though. He straightens a candle stick assessing the
closeness of their arrangement. He’s not looking to burn the whole building down. He’d peeked
inside the little brown box on Louis’ desk earlier that morning. It hadn’t been wrapped and was just
sitting there literally asking to be opened. All he found inside was a folded piece of paper. Reading
it seemed too intrusive. That doesn’t mean he’s not internally pulling his hair out wondering what
could possibly be written on it.

One last glance around confirms that they’re ready, here at least. He’ll need to check in on food
and drinks between lessons, but at least the setting is set. He’s got just under half an hour before his
next student. Checking his phone he decides it’s enough time to find out what’s on that paper in
Louis’ gift box. The whole night really hinges on that one gift and if Louis messes it up, he’s going
to be so upset with himself. He pushes back through the old steel door, noticing where the paint has
chipped in places, feeling like a detective ready to surreptitiously pull answers from a suspect…
witness… whatever Louis is in this situation.

He debates his opening question the whole way back through the grungy halls of their building.
Something subtle is best.
Subtle. Niall can do subtle.

The apartment is a touch warmer than normal when he enters and it smells amazing. He rounds the
corner into the main space to find Ed, glasses steam, over a giant pot of soup. The recipes for the
evenings apps and main are spread across the counter.

“Smells so good in here! Did you just find your calling?”

“Innit,” Ed mutters. His ginger hair is sticking off at odd angles and it’s apparent this task has him
more than slightly frazzled.

“You alright, mate?”

“Just remind me it’s for a good cause.”

“How can I help?”

“Nah. Don’t worry. Soup’s sorted and I can’t get on the appies until later anyway.”

Niall pats Ed’s shoulder, peeking in the soup pot they borrowed from the restaurant. It looks good
even if the dampness of Ed’s shirt confirms he’s sweaty with anxiety and from the warmth of the
kitchen. Turning in the small space, Niall opens the oven door to get a glimpse of baking croutons.
They’re just starting to brown. Well at least he knows why it’s not freezing in here. This might be
one of the first times the oven has been used since they all moved in. They’re definitely not the
type to cook often.

“Seen Louis?”

“His room? He was trying to help, but I sent him away. Have you seen the kid cut a carrot?
Thought he was going to lose a finger.”

“That’s why we owe you big. None of the rest of us could pull this off.”

“Mhh, without me poor Harry would be poisoned and your plan shot to shit.”

Niall grins, giving Ed’s shoulder one last firm pat in confirmation. He leaves the room as Ed
checks on the croutons. Whatever he’s spiced them in makes the apartment smell even more like a
comfortable hug as he cracks the oven door enough to see in.

Louis’ bedroom door is open and Niall doesn’t bother knocking. He pokes his head in the room to
find Louis on his bed anxiously picking at his cuticles.

“Everything’s coming together.”

Louis looks up with those bright blue eyes of his. It’s obvious he’s 'shitting-his-pants' nervous.
Niall tries to think subtle thoughts. He’s got this. Subtle could be his middle name.

“So ehm, Lou…”

Louis waits as Niall formulates his question.

Oh, fuck it.

“So, his present is a piece of paper, yeah?”

Louis rolls his eyes before flopping his face into his hands.
“Jesus, Niall. As if I’m not already bricking it.”

“Budge over.”

Louis just shakes his head, “what the empty rest of the bed on me other side isn’t enough room for
ya?”

“Shut it.” Niall squishes his bum in beside Louis. “So, what’s the paper say?”

“Can I keep this one thing to meself?”

“Sure, but… well… are you sure it’s enough?”

“No, of course I’m not sure, but it’s all I got, innit?”

“We can go find something. I can cancel my next session.”

“That’s sweet, but this isn’t really a present kind of situation.”

“I guess you’re right, but like what about a gift card to McDonald’s or something. Show him how
many date nights the two of you have ahead of you.”

“That’s actually a pretty cute idea, Ni, but I think mine tops it.”

“Tops a Maccie’s gift card?! Then what are you worried about?”

The chuckle Louis lets out is combined with an exhaled breath the visibly removes some of the
stiffness in his body.

“Thanks, mate. That actually helped.”

“Perfect. My job here is done then.” Niall stands up dusting his hands off on each other as if he’s
just finished a hard day of carpentry, or the like. Sometimes he thinks he’d make a good carpenter.
Not because he has any special skills, but just because he likes the idea of it.

Louis smiles at him like he’s reading his thoughts, the crinkly lines by his eyes making it
impossible for Niall not to grin foolishly back at him. It’s those deep laugh lines that tell him it’s a
real smile. See Louis is good at faking smiles. Niall’s not sure why he has to fake ‘em so often, but
he can always spot the difference based on how scrunchy Louis’ cheeks and eyes get. He can’t
wait to see his whole face resembling a wrinkle dog later when he gives Harry his dream date.
Because if there is one thing Niall knows for certain about Louis, it’s that he adores making the
people he loves happy.

**

The fibers of Harry’s sweater are a little rough against Louis’ fingers. It’s all Louis can focus on as
they make their way to the roof, Louis’ hand lightly on Harry’s lower back. He’s controlling his
breathing so he doesn’t upset his stomach and ruin the whole thing before it’s even started.

“Lou, can you PLEASE tell me what we’re up to already?”

“Just give me this, will ya.” Louis tries to sound teasing and light-hearted. They only have a few
steps to go. He can do this.

The door creaks as Harry pushes it open. The tinny sound of Christmas carols on their crappy
outdoor speaker spills into the stairwell, but even so Louis can hear Harry’s hushed utterance and
can’t control his own face breaking into huge smile of relief.

“Wha— It's so beautiful.”

They step out onto the roof and Louis sees what Harry means. It IS beautiful. Stunning really.

“Lou, is this… for me?”

“Yeah, it’s erm a going away present.” Louis hates that he said that. That’s not what this is, but
how does he describe what this is? No, it’s better if Harry just reads the note. That’ll make
everything ok, even if Harry’s lids drop a little and he looks to the pebbled rooftop below their feet
at the mention of him leaving.

Thankfully Niall lifts the mood almost immediately, approaching them with so much buoyancy and
life, it’s nearly impossible to be sad in his presence. He’s wearing an elf hat and ears along with his
usual fancy serving gear. Thank god he's off tonight. With Zayn on one leg and taking a shift in the
gift shop (very little standing required) and Liam working, it’s up to Niall and Ed to make sure this
goes off without a hitch. Louis realizes he owes them big.

“Hello, lads. Welcome to your rooftop night of romance. I’m Niall and I’ll be your Captain for the
evening.”

“Oi, laying it on a little thick, aren’t we?”

With a wide swoop of his arm and a complete disregard of Louis’ comment Niall continues on,
“We’ll start you both off with a Captain Niall’s Cranberry Mule, it’s Captain Morgan, but like I
said, tonight I’m the Captain of this ship.” He whispers the last bit conspiratorially.

Louis is practically gagging over Niall’s ridiculousness.

“And we’ve got some lovely potato puffs with an avocado dip to go with them. Follow me this way
please.”

Avocado dip. Niall is either playing on Harry’s love of the fruit, or Louis’ hate for it. Harry is all
smiles as he follows Niall to the picnic table. It looks like something straight out of Narnia, or
some other magical realm. The tapered candles are lit and sitting in the varied holders, all of
different heights, colours and styles. The dark of the table cloth is off-set by a pair woodsy place
settings—wooden charges, crisp white plates, sprigs of fake holly (he praises capitalism once again
for all the random things they managed to pick up at the dollar store). There are silver sparkles
sprinkled on the table cloth too. They glitter in the candle light. Niall’s really outdone himself.

Once seated, Niall wraps a blanket first around Harry’s shoulders, then Louis’. It was Niall’s idea
for them not to bring coats. He thought it would be cozier this way. Louis is shocked to find the
outdoor heater and woolly blanket are actually doing a good job of keeping him warm and toasty
after telling Niall he was insane and that they would freeze their arses off.

Ed awkwardly pushes out through the stairwell door with a piping hot serving platter, steam rising
off it into the air and trailing after him for a moment. He looks less than impressed, with the same
elf hat as Niall covering his ginger hair and his glasses foggy due to the change in temperature
from inside to outside. He carefully sets the platter and accompanying sauce dish down with Louis
helping guide his hands since it’s clear he can barely see what he’s doing.

Niall had left when Ed approached to grab a couple of drinks from the make-shift bar across the
way. He whips around from behind the other boy like a magician and plops them on the table
alongside their plates.
“Here are your Captains, boys.”

It smells good, but… “Niall, are there cranberries inside those ice cubes?” Louis asks giving his
cocktail another quick sniff. Niall is known for making his drinks strong, but Louis’ getting fruit
instead of the burning smell of too much booze.

“Only the best, lad,” Niall answers simply and drapes a white cloth over his arm as if it makes him
more distinguished somehow. The prideful smile he boasts says he knows he’s done a good job.
Louis is still shaking his head as Niall steps away and Harry clears his throat.

“You know you didn’t have to do all this, right?”

“Just thought if we can’t spend actual Christmas together, we could have our own little holiday.”

“That’s really sweet.” The candle light glitters in Harry’s eyes as they slowly chart Louis’ face.

“Should we cheers?” Louis holds up his drink mug by the handle, watching the cranberry cubes
slosh in the amber tinged red beverage.

“Ok. To what?” Harry has that sultry little half grin going. The one that makes Louis want to jump
over the table, straddle him and cover him in kisses and love bites. The same one that could take
down whole armies if it wanted to.

Love. Love. “Us,” he finally stutters out. He doesn’t know why he can’t say it. That’s what they’re
here for afterall.

“To us then,” Harry clinks his glass into Louis’. “And to the way I am going to let you fuck me
senseless after this.”

Oh, fuck yes! Louis swallows a fairly sizable glug of his drink and tries not to choke on it. He
adjusts himself by lifting up slightly from his seat and shifting in his tight jeans. No. Don’t let him
distract you. Tonight, is about being vulnerable and telling Harry the truth.

When he glances back up, Harry is eagerly cutting into a potato puff and plunking it into the bright
green sauce between them, eyeing Louis and still wearing the same seductive expression. Louis
needs to change the direction of this conversation and fast.

“So, um any erm family traditions for the holidays?”

Harry’s eyes glaze a little for a moment before his close-mouthed grin widens, clearly sensing
Louis’ distraction tactic. After a quick swallow he runs his tongue along his front teeth. Louis
knows he knows his teeth are Louis’ weakness. It’s ridiculous really, but the little glimpse of pink
and white between Harry’s pert lips, has Louis reeling.

“We do a Harry Potter marathon on Christmas Eve. Popcorn, Butter Beer, bowls of candy—the
whole nine yards. We even have the Weasley sweaters with our initials on them. Christmas, we do
a small gift exchange. That’s mostly it. How about here? Do you do anything special?”

“Not really. We work. It’ll be nice having the lads here for Christmas Eve this year.”

“Oh? More so than Christmas?”

Louis can’t remember if he told Harry about his birthday. Now’s not the time to bring it up,
though, so he avoids mentioning it altogether.
“Yeah, we’ll have drinks. Christmas Eve is usually quiet, which is always nice. Being hungover for
the Christmas shift will either be unbearable torture, or just bad enough to keep the homesickness
away.” He winks at this even though he’s not joking.

“So, you work all day? I was hoping we could video chat. I could give you your gift.” Harry’s
wearing that look again. The look that says his gift for Louis is filthy as fuck. Honestly, Louis’ not
sure he’s gonna survive much more of this.

Cold ice cubes collide with Louis’ teeth making them burn but in the way teeth do when being
exposed to anything too cold, as he sucks back at least of half of his drink. He sets the glass
roughly on the table. Harry is still munching happily away, the green sauce between them depleted
considerably. That’s one thing Louis won’t be complaining about. Fucking trendy Avocado.

“Speaking of pressies. Me and the lads got you some.”

This was supposed to wait until after dinner and dessert, which Louis knows Ed has really gone all
out on. He’s prepared an absolute feast, but Louis wants to get to it already. Sex crazed Harry is
great and all, but he needs the real Harry back. The silly, clumsy, sexy, goofy, curly headed,
sunshine of a lad that he knows Harry is. The Harry of the last little while is trying too hard. Louis
can see through it and he can only think of one reason why.

A piece of potato puff drops off Harry’s fork as his eyes light up, lashes fluttering open and closed
quickly while he takes in Louis’ words. Louis can’t get over how pretty he is, the candle light
casting him in a golden hue and showcasing his slightly reddened cheeks and nose. The heater and
blankets are helping with the chill, but it is still winter after all.

The clatter of Harry’s fork falling from his fingers startles them both, the metal catching the light
as the utensil tips and lands haphazardly on the black table cloth.

“But I didn’t get anyone anything. I didn’t know we were doing that,” Harry is oblivious to
everything but Louis now (including the bite of food he was just about to take). His hands are
hidden, clasped in his lap, while his curls fall into his slightly downturned face. He’s so sweet this
way. Louis wants to cuddle him and make him laugh one of those ridiculous guffaw laughs the
other boy is frequently known to let loose.

“We didn’t expect you to. It’s something we wanted to do for you, silly. Come on.” Louis is up and
tugging Harry by the crook of his arm over to the Christmas tree. The door to the stairwell starts to
open as they approach it and Louis pushes Harry on ahead of him, so he can wave his hands wildly
at Niall to go back the way he came. He can see Ed just beyond him with a thermos and soup
bowls. Niall raises his eyebrows in response, lifting his arms in a w shaped questioning shrug.
Louis puts his hand up, palm flat facing Niall and then turns it and shoos with his fingers, hoping to
get the message across. He can see Niall turn and talk to Ed, so he continues on to where Harry has
plunked himself in front of the tree. Niall’s lined the area with festive throw pillows (another dollar
store purchase that Louis wonders what they’re going to do with after all this is over). It’s not like
they can return them. Give them to a thrift shop he guesses. Harry looks up at him from where he’s
seated and Louis reminds his wandering brain that now is not the time. He plunks down on the
next cushion, so close to Harry their thighs are touching.

“These are from the boys.” Louis hands over the three colourfully wrapped packages.

“Can I open yours first?”

“I thought maybe you’d save it? Don’t want the other lads to feel bad knowing they went after
mine and there’s no way they could top it.” Louis chokes back his own nerves and tries to keep the
moment light.

“True. Musn't hurt their feelings.” Harry grins. He can be such a knob. Louis loves it. Loves him.
Harry sets two of the boxes down and gives the one in his hands a shake, just like he probably did
as a kid. Louis should have guessed he’d be an adorable gift getter. He tears into the shiny blue
wrapping paper and has the box open in seconds. A huge smile takes over his face as he pulls out
the ornament. “Awwww it’s a snowboarder.”

“From Niall. Because of how good you’ve gotten.”

“No way! That’s so sweet.”

A loud whooping noise comes from the beyond them, followed by a crash and someone lowly
uttering the word shit. Louis shakes his head as Niall’s arm pokes out through the crack of the open
door and gives a thumbs up. He doesn’t want to think of the mess in that stairwell, or the stress Ed
is going through being first mate to Niall’s captain.

“Thanks, Niall!" Harry shouts.

He opens Liam and Zayn’s gifts next and is obviously equally touched, even if it’s clear he’s
rushing through them to get to Louis’. He laughs at the candle, giving it a quick sniff and an
appreciative smile. The mittens get a delighted squeal. He puts them on immediately and it might
be the cutest thing ever. The whole while, even though he enjoys watching Harry open his gifts,
Louis prepares himself for the revelation he’s about to lay on the other boy. He hopes one more
time that he used the right words.

Finally, Louis grabs his box from behind the tree and lays it in Harry’s outstretched, yarn-covered
hands. Harry shakes it like he did with the others and when it makes no sound his brows scrunch
together, eyes never leaving the package. His body lifts slightly in anticipation and he takes a slow
breath in, letting it out again almost instantly. Louis can feel the tension in the air rising with every
half second that passes. With as much delicacy as the mittens allow, Harry finds where the paper
meets and begins to tear it off. He hesitates for a moment when he has just the box in his hands,
before lifting the lid and peeking in.

The carolers are crooning away on the speaker and Louis’ heart feels like it’s in his throat. He
watches as Harry gingerly takes the paper from the box, glancing over at Louis, before unfolding it.
The way his brow scrunches again and his eyes flick too quickly over the page throws Louis. He
expected a slower reaction. More thoughtful. Harry just looks confused. He glances to Louis again
and Louis gives him a nervous smile. This is not at all what he had planned on happening. He
thought there might be a little crying or kissing, but not the confused look somewhere between
disbelief, sadness and anger that plays all over Harry’s features. Harry directs his attention back to
the paper, eyes chaotically studying every inch of it. Without warning his face crumples.

Louis has seen Harry cry. Harry cries quite often. When he’s really happy, when he’s tired, when a
commercial hits just the right chord, but Louis has never seen him look like this, not even the first
time on the hill when Louis thought he had wrecked everything before it had even started.

Fat tears wash over his face, following the folds of skin that make up the absolute grimace of
Harry’s distorted features. His look hardens almost instantly, though, as if he decides he won’t
allow the emotion that suddenly overtook him. The tears still stream down his cheeks, but
otherwise it’s not sadness Louis sees in his expression. No right now he’s giving off pure
unadulterated hatred.

“Louis, what is this?”

“It’s erm how I feel.” The end of Louis’ sentence raises like a question. He knows it’s how he
feels, but he’s lost on whether he should have told Harry or not based on his current reaction. He
definitely doesn’t want to expand on it any further if this is how his declaration of love is going to
be received.

Without a word Harry pushes himself up fiercely, stuffs the letter into his pocket and storms across
the rooftop in only a way that Harry and his long legs can.

“Harry, what the fuck?” Louis shouts after him because he just spilled his guts in what he thought
was a fairly decent note and personalized poem. He can’t believe this is what he’s getting back to
be honest? He didn’t think it was genius or anything, but it was definitely better than your standard
“roses are red” type deal.

“What the fuck?” Harry repeats venomously. His voice low and steady whips from his body like a
hornet ready to sting whatever gets in its path. “Why would you give me this?” Louis can tell his
hands are visibly shaking even with the mittens on. Harry balls them into fists, a red thumb
covering where his fingers would be (Louis doesn’t want to notice how cute it is).

“I just thought you should know.” Louis stutters, taken aback and trying desperately to get the
words out. “I… I …”

“You what? Thought I wanted to know THIS?” Harry’s green eyes are fire and his voice so deep it
feels like the bottom of the ocean, his words like the weight of more water than even imaginable
crushing Louis and making him claustrophobic.

Louis can feel his own eyes welling as he watches Harry stalk off. This is not what he thought
telling someone he loved them would be like. Not in the slightest. So, Harry hadn’t felt the same at
all. It was just drunken words and now Louis looks like a total fool. That’s just great. Just
absolutely fucking fantastic.

“Wait. Stop! What’s wrong?” He can hear Niall feverishly asking somewhere in the distance. He’s
not talking to Louis; Louis imagines it would sound the same anyway since he currently feels as if
he’s in a fishbowl and everything else is on the other side of a thick layer of glass. The door to the
stairwell must still be partially open he realizes when Harry’s breathless voice responds.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“About the present, Niall.” Harry sounds utterly exasperated.

“Which present?”

“Louis’ obviously.”

“I knew he was giving you one.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“Not entirely. I mean I have an idea. It’s about time you two got everything out in the open though,
isn't it?”

“No. This particular information isn’t anything I wanted to know. Honestly, I wish it wasn’t even
true. Like what the fuck was he thinking?”
“Mate?” Niall’s voice is tinged with a sort of tense anger, brimming at the edges of what is
predominantly concern. Like a pot of simmering water, Louis can tell Niall is holding back because
he must be able to sense that Harry was crying, possibly still is.

Louis’ not sure why he’s even listening. Every word Harry speaks makes him want to curl tight
into a ball on the pebbly surface at his feet. Yeah, he’s being dramatic, but deep down he’s always
felt like maybe he’s just unlovable. He’s too loud and chaotic, forgetful, always cocking things up
and the list goes on. Harry though, Harry, everything about him is endearing. Like the way he can
fall asleep almost anywhere, at anytime of day, or how he’s always hungry. Always. How he gets
cuddly when he’s drunk and wrinkles his nose when he’s trying not to smile. The way he cries over
happy things and sad things and how he can make friends with literally anyone. But the very best
of all is when he locks eyes with you and listens to every word you say like you’re the fucking
librarian on story day in grade school.

Louis had thought that meant he cared (for Louis that is). But now it’s clear he’d gotten it entirely
wrong. That must be why Harry’s been pushing the whole sex all the time thing. That really is all
he wanted. Could have fooled Louis. What was the point of Harry’s delicate fingers in Louis’
fringe, green eyes on him so intently before nuzzling their noses together the other afternoon after a
round of particularly sweaty action. Why all the kissing and little touches all the time. If Harry just
wanted to get off, he didn’t need to bother with the rest of it.

Louis realizes he’s been standing staring in space when all of a sudden Niall is filling the
previously empty area. He’s a juxtaposition of mirth with his little elf ears feeling so merry, but his
big dopey eyes unreadable and his lips in a tight line.

“You, alright, Lou?” He reaches one arm out to wrap Louis in a hug. As soon as he pulls him in,
Louis can feel his body cave in. He’s like a sand castle knocked over by a wave except the wave is
embracing him, tight and warm and whispering friendly things in his ear while he begins to sob.
Niall rubs his back and hushes him. Louis doesn’t know what Niall’s saying because at the same
time he’s muttering to himself, “he didn’t love me. Was too good for me anyway.” Louis’ not sure
how many times he repeats it. Maybe out loud just the once, but in his head it’s on an endless loop.
Either way, Niall tugs him closer for emphasis and says, “It’s not true, Lou. Everyone loves you.
It’s a mistake. Gotta be. We both know Harry’s not heartless like that. Something… I dunno… I
just… We’re gonna fix it tomorrow.”

Louis sniffles realizing he’s getting snot all over Niall’s good shirt. He peeks over his friend’s
shoulder to see Ed watching them, awkwardly hunched with a tray of broken white porcelain
balanced on both arms. Louis straightens up and wipes at his soggy cheeks.

“Just let me clean up,” he mumbles trying to keep the snot bubbles at bay as he indicates his face
and hangs his head a little. “I’ll come back and help sort all this.”

“Nah, Lou. Go get cozy. Ed and I will deal with everything up here. When we’re done, we can
watch a movie and eat all the snacks we had ready for tonight. No point wallowing just yet, right
lad?”

Louis nods because even though food and a movie sounds daunting when all he wants to do is hide
under a blanket and cry, he’s holding onto the tiny little bit of hope he’s getting from Niall’s
tentative, but genuine smile.

So that’s what they do. Louis takes a shower (that involves quite a lot of crying and pretending the
tears aren't real tears, but just the same water that cleans off the rest of him) and puts on an
oversized sweatshirt and joggers while Niall and Ed deal with anything on the roof that they can’t
leave out overnight. They meet in the tv room and cuddle under a pile of blankets sharing the meal
Ed had diligently prepared for the evening.

“At least we got one thing out of this shitty night.” Louis braves to say after quietly dipping the last
of his bread in his soup.

“What’s that?” Niall asks looking upbeat at Louis’ sudden urge to speak. There’s an explosion
scene from the action movie they decided to watch happening on the screen (because romance was
out of the question). Ed also peers over at Louis with interest. Truthfully none of them have been
all that focused on the tv. Louis, for one, has been staring at his soup and thinking incessantly since
they sat down, while Niall and Ed have been sharing concerned looks between each other over
Louis’ shoulders.

“We learned you two are magical little Christmas elves. Ed, I didn’t even know you could cook.”

Ed laughs lightly. “Didn’t know it either to be honest. And don’t either of you breathe a word at
work. I’ve already got more shifts than I can handle.”

“I feel like I’ve always been an elf meself at heart.” Niall chimes in.

“Ugh no more poetry for today.” Louis cries dramatically. His bones hurt with the effort of the
artificial joviality he adds to his tone. What he really wants to do is burn all his poetry books. It’s
so over the top, but he knows he won’t be able to read them again without picturing Harry’s stern
face and the tears rolling down it. He’s not sure which is worse, this, or the images of Harry’s
beautiful body cascading through his brain—the curve of his hips, or his perfect nipples all taught
with arousal. What if he never gets to see any of that again. Or the deep cavern of his dimples
when he smiles. Those fucking beautiful teeth clamped onto a plump pink lip. Or worst of all, what
if he never gets to make Harry laugh, call him sun, or just get to sit there and listen to him babble
on about whatever silly idea pops into his head at any given time. Just the thought of it almost
breaks him and a quiet little moan escapes his lips without him allowing it.

“Alright, mate?”

Louis feels the strain on his tired eyes when they land on Niall. The weird uncomfortable stretch
sensation of them widening in surprise makes his skin crawl. The inner edges of his eyebrows feel
so heavy. That’s where he tends to hold all of his stress, where the bridge of his nose and forehead
meet. He squishes the skin on both sides between his thumbs and index fingers.

“No, Niall. I don’t think I am actually.”

“Awwww, Lou.” Niall tugs him into a tight side hug.

“What if that’s it? Like what if I never talk to him again.”

“Not possible,” Niall replies.

It’s then that Liam and Zayn come barrelling into the apartment. Liam is piggybacking Zayn. Both
are flushed and full of smiles.

“So! Did he love it?” Liam’s question is out before he can survey the room. His lips clamp shut
when he gets a look at Louis wrapped up in Niall’s arms. He’s silent for a moment before angrily
huffing, “I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t,” Zayn says tapping his arm lightly. “Let me down, babe.”

Liam does so carefully and they both maneuver their way to the couch, Ed squishing closer to Niall
to make room.

“What happened?” Zayn touches Louis’ knee lightly as he asks. His face is smooth and calm like
water in a bird bath, but Louis can see the empathy and confusion in his soft eyes.

“I dunno.” Louis doesn’t want to admit what he thinks happened, so he simply says, “I wrote him a
poem. Told him how I feel. He… um… didn’t react the way I thought he would.”

“You wrote him a poem! LOU! THAT’S SO SWEET!” Niall sounds like he’s about to cry and he
tightens his embrace around Louis to the point that it’s almost painful. Oh, right. He hadn't told
them. When Louis finally manages to wiggle out of Niall’s grasp, he catches Liam whispering into
Zayn’s ear.

“Lou, I’m real sorry. That sucks so much. But… erm I need to go somewhere. It’s not that I don’t
care. I promise I do. I just… it’s important, what I have to go do.”

“Now?!” Niall asks incredulously.

“Yeah,” Zayn chimes in. “I’m an idiot and I think I lost my wallet. Li is gonna go check a few
places for me. I just realized now I don’t have it on me and am a bit nervous about it is all.”

“So am gonna go, but I’ll be back in a bit. Really am sorry, Lou.”

“It is what it is, mate.”

Louis once again feels that overwhelmingly emptiness that somehow fills his whole being and
makes him want to scream. He’s always been the emotional type. When he gets sad, it’s not just a
little sad, it’s like riding a roller coaster and one moment you’re as high as can be and the next
you’re Challenger Deep low. He bites on his thumb nail as Liam sneaks quietly out of the room.
Niall seems to get that Louis needs a minute and he jumps up to heat up snacks for Zayn. The
commotion helps Louis settle an infinitesimal amount, but he’ll take any bit of reprieve he can get
at this point. They throw on another movie and cuddle back up on the couch when Niall’s back
with soup and a sandwich for Zayn and a bowl of popcorn for the rest of them.

Liam still isn’t home when Louis begins to nod off. He’s cuddled into Niall’s chest, occasionally
rubbing his head into his friend’s warm shirt like he can bury himself in it. It smells comforting,
like freshly baked bread and the lightest whiff of sweat. Niall instinctively plays with Louis’ hair;
the slow easy twirls of his fingers lull him off to sleep. It’s short-lived though, fitful dreams have
him continually waking with a start to a pair of concerned light blue eyes peering down at him.
Even in his current state Louis feels grateful for his little band of internet friends that somehow are
now just his friend friends. He can’t imagine being lucky enough to meet lads as sweet randomly in
real life.

**

Harry hasn’t stopped crying since he left Louis’ place. He’s curled in bed, managing to sneak into
the cabin while Anne and Gemma were at dinner. He realizes he didn’t actually eat, but he has no
appetite for it anyway. Louis’ note is tattered and has tear stains all over it, but Harry can still see
exactly what’s written on the page.

Louis’ list to make Harry styles not like him.

(Or the How to Lose a Harry List)
1. Be annoying – tease him and call him names (he definitely hates that), talk too much, call
instead of text and make him talk for hours, BE SUPER CLINGY and grossly romantic (barf)
2. Litter in front of him (must pick it up afterwards as per Zayn)
3. Fart in front of him
4. Spoil movies, shows and books on purpose
5. Eat off his plate (Niall you genius, you)
6. Be mean to his family (Would work, but can’t do it. They don’t deserve that)

Harry looks at the last line. The words etched into his eyeballs. No, apparently Louis can’t be mean
to his family, but being mean to him is just fine. And the sad thing is he could forgive him for the
list, even as horrid as it is. Harry knows he came on too strong and Louis had to do something
because he doesn’t feel the same, but this, what he pulled tonight, that’s just cruel. Giving him the
list as a present. Digging the knife in repeatedly with all the “this is how I feel, bullshit.” What
even is that. And that Niall and Zayn were in on it too. That feels like the worst part. He thought
they were friends and now he’s just the butt of their awful joke. He chokes on the air wetly, once
again wishing he had someone to talk to. He doesn’t though. He can’t tell Gemma, or his mom. It’s
too embarrassing.

He curls into himself tighter, remembering all the times Louis did the various things noted on his
list. He can’t help but cringe over how cute he thought a lot of it was in the moment. If he’d only
known. Angrily he scrunches the paper and throws it across the room. It’s not the first time.

There’s gotta be someone he can call. Has to be. He grabs his phone from the mess of blankets and
scrolls his contacts, eyes watering at Niall’s name. It’s not much further when he sees it. He
shouldn’t. It’s so unbelievably stupid, but he literally can’t think of anyone else. He has friends
afterall, but none that he’s close enough to call while bawling his eyes out. Truthfully he has to get
better at not bailing on his friends when he meets a new guy. Plus, he’s always been a bit of a
social butterfly—lots of acquaintances no real true close friends.

His thumb hovers over the name, finally plunking down with a sense of heaviness in the motion.
Harry puts the phone to his ear and listens as it rings. Three go through before Olly’s jubilant voice
comes through the speaker.

“Haz, babe! Finally!”

Harry doesn’t answer. Doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he sniffles loudly like the pathetic ball of
a human he is.

“Haz? You there? I miss you.”

“You do?” Harry asks. He can hear the slight croon in his voice and it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t
even like Olly. He just wants someone to treat him nice for a second because he feels like absolute
shit. He wipes at his wet cheeks and under his eyes.

“Course I do. Never should have treated you the way I did. I’m an idiot. You know that.”

“True. You are an idiot.”

Olly chuckles. There’s a ruckus in the background on his end. This is the thing about Olly, it’s not
that he has a shit personality. He doesn’t. He’s an asshole, but he’s also so much fun. One of those
people who will freely admit how much of an asshole they are with a huge grin and a charmingly
villainesque twinkle in his eye.

“Are you busy? I just um needed someone to talk to.”

“Always time for you, sweetheart.”

“Just not on Halloween.” Harry ignores the pet name.

“How do I make you believe I’m sorry? I screwed up. I mean, you should feel bad for me in a way,
really. Just think of how much I wanted to see you in that dress and I missed it. Bet you looked so
fucking hot.”

Olly doesn’t sound repentant at all. He sounds flirty and maybe a little drunk. He always gets
sassier when he’s drunk. Not surprising, Harry likes a little sass. His mind darts to Louis. No. No.
Not there. He focuses back on the conversation at hand. He needs Olly’s sass right now. It’s
superficial. He wants nothing of substance in this moment. Just wants something to fill the gaping
hole in his stomach—like the comfort food equivalent of sass.

“I did. I got new one, you know. Dress, I mean. My bo— Someone got me this stunning dress.
Haven’t had anywhere to wear it though.”

“Really? What’s it look like?” Olly practically purrs.

Harry doesn’t flirt back. But he can feel his voice brighten as he describes the cut, colour and style
of the dress down to every last detail.

“Would love to see you in that, Haz. What are you up to? Wanna come over?”

“Um I don’t think that’s a good idea and I’m away anyway.”

“Oh.” There’s silence on the line for a moment before Olly chimes in peppier than before, “When
are you back? I actually have the perfect place for you to wear it! We’re all going to Piper’s on
Christmas Eve. You know the place on Humberland and Avenue? They’re doing a holiday fancy
dress theme. Wear whatever you want. The more extravagant the better. Please say you’ll come in
that pretty new dress of yours.” He laughs loudly at himself. “Would you believe I didn’t even
mean for the innuendo there.”

Harry rolls his eyes. That’s not actually shocking in the slightest.

“I don’t know, Ol. I’ve been through some shit. Probably won’t be in the mood.”

“But you’ll be home?”

“Yeah, we leave on the twenty second.”

“You’re coming then,” Olly states confidently. “Can’t hide that dress away. It’d be a travesty. Be
ready for ten and I’ll have the Uber swing by your place.”

“Olly, I don’t think I can.”

“That’s enough from you my sad little kitten. You’re coming and that’s that. But listen, babe, I
gotta run. See you then.” Olly hangs up without waiting for Harry’s reply and, yeah, that’s typical
Olly.

**

The next morning comes hot and heavy. The sun is streaming into Harry’s room. He feels like a
bag of absolute shit, eyes puffy and almost stuck together from crying, mouth dry and stomach
rumbling. He knows he has to face Gemma and Anne, but is in no mood to do it. Truthfully, he’d
like to spend his remaining four days hiding out in this room with the blackouts drawn. And then it
dawns on him, Louis has video footage of them fucking. His skin gets instantly clammy at just the
thought of it. What if he’s shown the boys, or worse? He wants to tell himself it’ll be fine. Louis
isn’t like that, but then he thinks of the paper thrown haphazardly across the room.

He feels like although the note thing was mean that maybe it wasn’t meant to be as hateful as
Harry is taking it. Maybe Louis just wanted to let Harry down nicely and when it didn’t work, he
saw no other choice. He definitely didn’t look happy when Harry last saw him. He truthfully
looked like he was on the verge of tears. It makes no sense. All the same, Harry’s gonna have to
talk to one of them and get that video deleted. He can’t just have that floating around in Louis’
phone. Not now. But who?

It's a toss up between Zayn and Niall, but he’s pretty pissed at them both. He knows they knew
about the list. It’s one thing for Louis to obliterate his heart, but to take away his new friends too in
one fell swoop, well it’s rotten, that what it is.

He dresses in his lavender jumper because it makes him feel a little bit better and wraps his hair in
a large green scarf that he folds intricately into a bandana. He feels somewhat human when he
makes it down the stairs into the main room.

“What happened to you? You look awful!”

Leave it to Gemma to state the obvious.

Harry rubs the palm of his hand by the base of his thumb up and down the side of his face.

“Didn’t get much sleep is all. Um what’s planned for today?”

“No Louis then? Is it just us three?” Harry’s whole-body cringes at Anne’s words. She stops mid-
sip of orange juice and sets her glass down, eyeing Harry warily.

“Is everything alright there, hun?”

Harry wills himself not to cry again. Two pairs of overly caring eyes are set on him in a way that
feels too intrusive. Like they can see the miserable human he is and all the mistakes he’s made. He
doesn’t want them to know that yet another person has found him unworthy.

“Yeah, fine. Just had a nightmare last night and it’s still lingering.”

“Ugh! I hate when that happens.” Gemma flips her hair over her shoulder while turning back to her
plate of toast on the counter. “I’m up for whatever.”

“We’re not here much longer. We should explore the resort a little, make sure we haven’t missed
anything exciting. Maybe check out the pools, or some of the walking trails.”

The pools!! Harry groans internally at the visceral memory that floods his body, but externally he
thinks he manages a stoic air, “Yeah, mum, sounds nice. I just need to see if I can catch Niall first.
Um… he has my favourite pair of mittens. It’s silly, but I wanted to wear them today.”

“I’ll come,” Gemma chimes in, toast crumbs flying from her mouth in excitement.

Harry makes a face and rubs his eye, as if some of the shrapnel made it to him.

“Sorry. It’s just… I like Niall. Sucks I won’t get to see him after this trip.” Gemma covers her
mouth as she talks this time. Harry doesn’t want to tell her how much her words ring true for him
as well. With all the boys really, but obviously Louis the most. He’s still pissed, but that doesn’t
make leaving any easier somehow. It almost feels like it’s making it harder, making the finality of
the situation all the more apparent.

Harry’s urgency to talk to Niall must be oozing out of all his pores because It doesn’t take long for
him to manage to drag Gemma out the door. On a good day she needs at least a forty-minute lead
time just to wrap her head around going somewhere. They leave Anne still at the kitchen counter,
happily planning out the rest of their day.

Harry has Niall’s routine and regular haunts memorized at this point, so he’s somewhat confident
they’ll find him as they head out. His apartment is a no go, making their first stop the ski shop. If
Niall has a brand-new student, he’ll be there to help them pick the right equipment. On entering
they see it’s a bust. No Niall in sight. Next, they swing by his favourite breakfast place. It’s a bit
later than Harry would expect to see him at this specific locale, so he isn’t surprised when they
don’t spot him.

Harry holds his breath as they round the corner to the place that takes third on his mental list of
options. If Niall’s not here, he’s at his apartment (again no go), or on the hills. Either way they’re
definitely not going to be able to find him. The cafeteria smells and looks as inviting as it did the
day he first found it when Louis caught him reading poetry there. Gemma’s yammering on, as she
has been the whole time, but catches Harry’s attention when she points and says, “there he is!”

And it’s true Niall is in fact there, just across the room, with two take-out coffee cups in hand, idly
chit chatting with a girl Harry doesn’t recognize. When Niall sees them his face lights up with a
welcoming smile that fades as if recognition outweighs his reflex response.

“Gemma, do you mind if I talk to Niall alone?”

“Fine!” Gemma huffs as her eyes scan his face. She knows something’s up, but the eyeroll that
follows tells him she thinks it’s something far sillier than it is.

The ten feet to where Niall is standing feels like miles. Gemma veers off towards the ready-made
food stations to give them the privacy Harry requested. Niall either isn’t picking up on the hint, or
doesn’t want to make this any easier for Harry because he hasn’t moved an inch. Another jolt to
Harry’s sad little heart. He thought they were such good friends.

“Hi,” Harry waves awkwardly when he gets close enough. He couldn’t feel anymore like a giant
twat than he does from that stilted little wave and the pitchiness of his voice.

“Hi.” Niall responds flatly. He turns to the girl he was speaking to before Harry interrupted,
“Simone, do you mind if I catch you later? Harry and I have to chat.” She nods and grins widely at
Harry before walking away, waving at them both wildly enough to make Harry feel a bit better
about his weird entrance.

“I think she’s into you,” he comments offhandedly.

“None of your business, is it?”

“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me. You know what Louis did. What you took part in.”

“All he did was tell you how he feels.”

“Yeah, and it was really mean.”

“How?” Niall sets down a coffee to tug at his collar, his face stern and brows pulled together.

“Seriously? I shouldn’t have to tell you this, re-live it. It’s so embarrassing.”
“Fuck you, Harry!” Niall spits out. He is, all of a sudden, livid. Face distorted in anger; fists balled
tight.

“Pardon? What the fuck did I do? I’m the fucking victim here.”

“Oh, real classy. You’re being a right prick about all this.” Niall’s voice is getting too loud. Harry
can feel his insides churning. His flight or fight is fucked up and although he wants to run, he’s
stood stock still trying his hardest not to cry. He will not fucking cry.

“Just tell him to delete the tape,” he grits out. “His little list was one thing. Horrible. But if he does
something with that tape, that’s crossing a line, Niall, and both you and I know it. So, if there’s
anything decent in you, ask him to get rid of it.”

Harry turns to leave, but Niall catches him lightly by the elbow. All the anger is gone apparently
and replaced with confusion. “List?”

So, he’s playing stupid. He’s a good actor that’s for sure because Harry would think the boy
gazing at him now has no idea what he’s talking about.

“His fucking list, Niall. The one with all the ways to get rid of me. Point taken. I get how he feels
and it worked, so no need to pretend you don’t know.”

Niall’s whole body drops like a drip of water hanging on the bath spout that suddenly breaks free.
His shoulders sag and his eyes droop and everything about him screams small chastised child.

“Ho— How do you know about that?”

“How? He wrapped it up in a present and gave it to me last night, that’s how.” Harry’s whole body
is shaking. Niall’s not denying the list at least. And he’s not yelling at Harry anymore.

“No. That’s… He didn’t… That’s not what he was giving you. Not what last night was supposed to
be.” Niall looks absolutely torn up, but whatever it is that’s got him so distressed, it’s not Harry’s
issue. Harry is done. He can’t let people treat him like this anymore.

“Well, I don’t know what he wanted to do, but that’s what he did, so just pass along my message
about the video please.” His words are firm and he feels resolute saying them. With this sense of
confidence or pride, or whatever it is, he turns and marches toward the exit.

Gemma comes scurrying up to him just before he gets to the open double doors. When he turns to
her he catches a glimpse of Niall, phone to his ear, brows scrunched and lips moving quickly as he
rubs his head and stares back at Harry. He doesn’t even flinch when they make eye contact, too
wrapped up in his conversation.

“What was that all about? Niall looked like you were breaking up with him.”

“Nothing. Just um he didn’t have my mittens.

“Woah, ok, remind me never to borrow your stuff if that’s what it looks like when you try to get it
back.”

Harry ignores her and heads down the steps slowly. He needs to focus so he doesn’t trip. He
doesn’t feel so sure about all this anymore. What was Niall talking about ‘not what last night was
supposed to be’? What was it supposed to be then?

Lucky him he has the rest of the day, trip, his life, to wonder about it.
“Come on, Gem. Let’s go get mum.”
 Chapter 20
Chapter Summary

Eeeeeeek I had this all written and then new ideas came soooooo.... Had to include
them ;)

Flummoxed. Absolutely, one thousand percent, flummoxed is the only description that covers off
the complete and utter confusion Niall’s been wrestling with all day. He feels horrible, although
he’s not sure for who more, Harry, or Louis? Plus, there’s all this guilt for knowing about the list
and not telling Harry in the first place. But it lasted, like what, a day? It was so stupid too. Just
Louis self sabotaging, yet again. Niall knows it never really meant anything. Louis didn’t want to
scare Harry off, not by a long shot. So, in Niall’s head there had been nothing to tell and Harry
would never find out about it anyway.

Which leads to the major question here: How the feck did the papers get switched in the first
place?

Louis can be a bit of a fuck up sometimes (honestly they all can), but there’s no way he did this. If
Niall knows him as well as he thinks he does, Louis probably took that note out and checked it
more than a dozen times before wrapping up the box.

Unfortunately, Niall can’t actually confirm anything for certain because he’s been teaching all day.
The quick chat he had with Louis after the Harry confrontation is still the only time they’ve had to
talk. With all the switching and no shows on shifts lately, management is laying down the hammer,
so to speak, making it nearly impossible to change the schedule in any small way. This also means
Louis is working all day too. The only bonus for the complete and utter roster lockdown is that
Niall knows he'll catch Louis tonight on their dinner shift.

Even so, Niall literally can’t stop running over the whole situation in his head like somehow he'll
get a random bout of clarity. Luckily, it hasn’t affected his teaching too much, in the catastrophic
sense. Everyone has left their lesson with all their limbs in tact. How much they learned on the
other hand, well he can’t speak to that. His current student, Miss Ruby, won’t let him get away
with that though. Seventy-five and not looking a day over sixty, she loves to flirt with Niall and
have his full attention. She’s also pretty decent on a board.

“Niall, hun, which way do my hips go again?” she asks with that crooked grin of hers.

“Miss Ruby, I know what you’re trying to do, you know.” He grins at her, but fixes her stance with
his gloved hands anyway.

“You don’t always give it up so easy. Makes it less fun. What’s going on under those blond locks
of yours? Something's got you all distracted.” She wiggles her gloved fingers at his head as she
asks.

“Just friends having some love troubles.”

“Friends, you say?”

“No. No. Really. It’s a long story. They just seem like they’re meant for each other, but dumb shit
keeps happening.”

“Language, my boy. And isn’t that always the way. I had a beau like that once. Let him go and it
was the most foolish thing I’ve ever done. Damn pride of mine.”

“Awwww I’m sorry, Miss Ruby. That’s horrible.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ve had no shortage of nice men in my time.” She winks along with her words.

Niall can’t help the cackle that escapes his lips, “High-five!”

She laughs back and hits his raised glove with the palm of hers daintily.

“Basically, one is mad at the other, and I guess rightfully so, but the other didn’t mean to do the
thing that made the first one mad, or hurt or whatever. And I need to fix it. So erm what do I do?”

“Why is it up to you to fix? Sounds like something they need to sort themselves.”

Niall looks off into the distance, but his eyes aren’t focused on anything in particular as he tries to
articulate why this is all so important to him.

“You ever see two people who just fit? Like how they look at each other and make each other
laugh. It’s almost… It’s like they come alive in each other’s presence. They’re like little glowing
lightbulbs together, but separate they’re just shells—no light.”

The woman with her trademark red hair, that she presumably got her name from, nods slowly at
him with a little wistful twinkle in her eye and Niall thinks she knows firsthand what he’s talking
about.

“So that’s why. What I don’t know is what to do.”

She cocks a well manicured eyebrow, “Well, now. You’re creative; you’ll figure it out. But I don’t
pay you to gab with me all day. I have friends for that, hun. So, let’s get back to it.”

And apparently any sentimentality she has is gone, or she’s stuffing it away, which Niall gets. So
he laughs, but agrees with a quick salute and a, “yes, ma’am.”

**

The dinner rush has been mayhem. Niall’s on expo again, where the smell of roast potatoes and
fancy cooked chicken are making his tummy rumble and his mouth water. He didn’t even have
time to eat lunch, just guzzled back his coffee as he dropped off the one he bought for Zayn on his
way to his next lesson. He briefly got to tell him what had happened with Harry, but it was so quick
he barely got the basic info out before he had to go. He actually feels a tad light headed if he’s
honest and the red light shining off the steel of the pass, paired with the heat in general isn’t
helping.

The door to the kitchen swings open as Louis’ distinctive voice calls, “DOOR!” It’s a constant in
the back of the house, but every server has their own way of saying it, Louis especially.

“Thank, fuck. There you are! Been trying to catch you all night.”

“No time!” Louis responds grabbing two plates without even flinching at their heat. He spins and
is headed back the way he came when Liam comes bustling into the kitchen. His holler of,
“DOOOOR” is in a lower and more harried tone than Louis’.

“Lou! I get it’s busy, but at least give me a second,” Liam rushes the words.

“I tried the same, Li. He’s the energizer bunny tonight.”

Louis attempts to evade the wall of Liam’s larger body with a quick deke right and then abruptly
changes course. “Hot plates,” he says exasperatedly when he can’t get by.

“Drop ‘em off and come back. We need to talk.”

“Nothing to talk about,” Louis manages to sneak around Liam, calling, “DOOR” again before he
places his shoulder on the worn wood. He’s only just started to put his weight into it, the dining
room barely visible through a small open a crack, when Liam turns to him directly and with a
steady sense of urgency rumbling through his voice, states, “It was Dave. The list in the gift box
for Harry, Dave did it.”

Niall starts as the plates in Louis’ hands crash to the floor, pieces of white ceramic skittering across
the reddish orange tile. The whole kitchen seems to turn to see what happened. It’s a miracle that
Dave’s not working the dinner shift because Niall’s not sure if he would escape it alive. He doesn’t
actually care for Dave’s sake, but Louis doesn’t need to deal with that shit right now.

“We need a remake stat. Table 8. One chicken. One beef. How far out?” Niall’s on autopilot.
Contemplating Liam’s words is out of the question beyond a quick internal interjection, of course it
was! Not that he doesn’t care, but there are things he has to focus on first. More broken dishware,
for one. He feels like he just finished cleaning the bowls from the stairwell in their apartment.

“Six minutes,” The sous chef calls back, putting the extra proteins on to cook.

“I’ll go let the table know. Lou, take fifteen. Liam, you have five to explain?”

“Yeah, I’ll just tell Ed to cover our sections. Be right back.”

Niall rests a hand on Louis’ shoulder, as he squishes past, pushing him into the kitchen and
signaling towards a prep cook to clean up the mess. “DOOR!” he shouts and makes his way
through the dining room to apologize to the table and let them know their food will be on the way
shortly. He’s good at this. People tend to like him. This table is no exception. They graciously take
his apologies and offer of twenty percent off their bill.

He's back at expo when Liam and Louis trek in through the back door. They bring with them the
scent of cigarettes. Niall’s narrowed glance in their direction has them rushing to the nearest sink to
wash their hands.

“We good, lads?”

“As can be expected,” Liam answers for Louis. “Beers and chats after work at the bar.”

Louis looks a little comatose as he nods at them both before glancing at the pass window. Seeing it
empty, he leaves the kitchen in a zombie-like stupor to check on things out front. Liam stops by the
call station where Niall tries to keep an eye on the food in the pass as he directs a questioning
‘what-the-actual-fuck’ look at Liam.

“It wasn’t Zayn’s wallet last night. Why I left… It’s because I saw Dave poking around Louis’
room yesterday. Asked him about it, but he just said he wanted to switch shifts with Lou and was
checking if he was home. When Louis mentioned the drama with Harry… well I just knew. I mean
for one they’ve been so stingy with shift changes lately that that was odd on it’s own. Left me kind
of wondering. Anyway, I went to confront him... scared the shit out of him really. He gave me the
poem. Said he was snooping and came across the box. Apparently, he had the list for a while. I
guess he was pissed Louis kind of ghosted him. I mean I knew that. He’d made comments about
him and Harry, but nothing substantial. Thought he was just jealous. If I had known…” Liam’s
rambling and running his hands through his now sweaty hair.

“Hands, Li!”

Liam looks at his hands befuddled. Niall can see as realization dawns and he heads to the closest
sink to wash up again.

“Can you run this food?” Niall asks, but it’s not really a question.

“Yeah, course.” Liam goes to the grab the plates, but before he can Niall rests a hand in the crook
of his elbow. “S’okay, you know. The Dave thing. You couldn’t have stopped it. You know what
jilted lovers are like… or whatever.”

“A bitch?”

“Pretty much.”

“And now I bet Lou's kicking himself because he thinks it’s his fault for not actually breaking it
off with Dave?”

“Something like that.”

“Typical Louis. So, what’s the plan?”

“We drink and we figure it out. If Zayn can forgive me for being a total dumbass, Harry can get
over this too.”

Niall hopes so, but somehow he has a feeling Zayn is a different breed when it comes to leniency
and understanding.

“Hmmmm. We’ll see.” Niall plucks the hot plates up and holds them out for Liam to take. “Push
the tables out quick, or we’re not getting out of here ‘til midnight.”

**

Niall’s estimation of the end of their shifts is close to when they actually get off, with Liam being
the last to clock out at 11:45pm. They’re all snuggled in a booth at the staff bar, Zayn’s leg
propped on a chair, fifteen minutes later.

“Tomorrow is three days left, Lou. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you've gotta go over there
and apologize.”

“Niall, what would you have me say to him? He saw the list. I did exactly what I didn’t want to do.
Hurt him enough, haven't I. Might as well let him leave and forget about me.” Louis picks at a
soggy coaster under his beer, not making eye contact.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, mate. This is on you. Harry deserves better than that and you know
it.” Niall stares at Zayn. From the only lad who yells less than he does, this is like a full-on attack.
Apparently Louis thinks so too because his eyes are wide and locked on his friend as he braces
himself on the seat cushion. Louis’ small, rugged hands are digging into the leather on either side
of his legs.

“I’m not. It’s just—”

“It’s just nothing. That list was a shit idea and you should have chucked it out, or told him about it
yourself at the time. Listen, I know you’re hard on yourself, like always, but this, this is all you
making bad decisions.”

“Zayn, he’s not going to forgive me.”

Niall feels horrible. Louis is practically pleading at this point, shreds of coaster littered on the table
around his beer. Liam gives Zayn’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Ease up, Babe.”

“I’m just tired. They obviously care about each other and the rest of it's just getting in the way. I
mean Harry has been with the shittiest guys. I don’t even think he realizes how shitty. I had to
piece it together from his stories. And now what? We let him think Louis is the same? He’s gonna
assume this is how he deserves to be treated or some shit. How's that fair?”

Louis looks like he’s about to break. The impact of what he’s done seems to finally be sinking in as
Zayn’s stern words lay heavy in the air above their booth. The feeling is almost immediately blown
away with a draft coming from the entrance where the door is forcefully swung open.

Gemma stomps fiercely into the space, her dark hair whipping around her head making her look
like some angry supernatural entity, or awesome Viking warrior. She spots them quickly and with a
wrath Niall hasn’t seen from literally anyone, ever, she storms over to their table. Another patron
has to get up and close the door behind her, giving her a timid look (because no one is side-eyeing
this Gemma).

She slams her slender hands on the table and stares Louis down hard, “WHAT DID I TELL YOU?”

Niall can see Louis’ Adam’s apple bobbing and can feel the same tight, dry, anxiety in his throat
he’s sure his friend is feeling.

“Hey Gemma. You alright?” Niall asks tentatively, in the way he imagines cowboys do with a
spooked horse. He’d be a good cowboy he thinks.

She sets a glare on him that he can feel down to his toes.

“No, Niall. I’m not. I just finally pried it out of Harry what happened and the three of you are on
my shitlist so hard right now. If it’s not clear, that’s not a place you want to be.”

“The three of us?” Zayn looks at her quizzically. He's third on that list, if her expansive hand
gesture going from Louis to Niall to Zayn is to be understood as representative of her words.
Colour Niall confused too because what the fuck did he do?

“The list was horrible. The way you gave it to him was fucking evil, but the fact that these two
were a part of it. I think that hurt him the most. If you haven’t noticed my brother doesn’t have a
ton of friends. Yeah, he’s charming. Everybody loves him, but that’s like only part of the picture.
That’s why he ends up with boneheads like Olly. He let you all in more than any of his other
friends. I think it might have been the first time where he found people who like really saw him and
liked him, except me and mum, of course. And then you go and do this? I don’t get it. I saw how
you all were together. It wasn’t just some dumbass game, so what the fuck?” Gemma sounds
exhausted by the end of her speech and shoves at Niall for him to move over, downing half his
beer as she sits in the now empty space. He doesn’t even attempt to complain because one, what
the fuck is she talking about? and two, he’s actually kind of afraid of her like this.

“Part of it is a little bit of a stretch,” Zayn responds before Niall can voice his opinion on the
matter. “And why would Harry even think, or know we had what little involvement that we did?”
Zayn’s looking at Louis now and it’s clear he’s pissed. Niall wonders if some of the heat is about
the whole Liam thing. Zayn got over that way too quickly in his opinion and Niall’s internally
questioned for a while whether Zayn has any animosity for their very flirty friend who was
probably partially to blame for Liam’s mixed feelings.

“Well, erm, there may have been notes on the list… um with your names on the couple ideas you
had.” Louis’ cheeks are flaming red and he won’t make eye contact with any of them. Instead, he
diverts his gaze down to the table and starts pushing at a piece of torn coaster.

“Pardon?” Niall can hear his own voice, steady, but with a trace of danger in it. Louis better have a
damn good explanation for this!

“I was drunk. They were just stupid notes!” He looks up with round wet eyes. “You know I didn’t
mean for any of this to happen. I’m… I’m… just not good with people. I don’t know how to do
relationships, or whatever. Why do you think I’m always as far from my family as possible?
Because I always fuck it up when I stay.” Louis is no longer about to cry, but instead full on crying,
his words coming out in gulps and stutters, big tears rolling over his apple like cheeks. His lashes
start to matte together almost immediately and the blue of his generally striking eyes is almost
difficult to look at.

Liam wraps his arms around their friend and Louis’ is nuzzling into his chest almost immediately
before he stiffens and pushes him back with a look of strain on his wet face. He sniffs loudly and
Niall hands him a napkin from the table.

“See!” He says, leaving Niall’s hand in the air holding the napkin out to him. “Case in point. You
apparently thought you were in love with me and here I am hugging you like my life depends on it
with your physically and probably emotionally hurt boyfriend not even two feet away. I didn’t
mean to get between you, but I did and who knows if it’ll happen again. I’m like a tornado
destroying everything in my path.”

Liam squares Louis’ shoulders so he’s facing him. The rest of the table, including Gemma is
fixated on them. “Louis, we’re friends. You’re allowed to hug me. Listen, we should have talked. I
should have explained, but I was a twat and figured it didn’t matter now. It wasn’t you. I mean,
yes, you’re flirty as fuck, but I know that. I let Dave get into my head. He’s not gonna be happy
until everyone he knows is as miserable as he is. I don’t know why, but that’s how it is. You know
we hung out quite a bit there for a while and he just… just kept saying these things about you
and… um me… and I started to believe them. But none of it was real. And I knew that at the time.
I was just scared to be in a real relationship for once. To actually be in love…”

Zayn gasps at this and literally like a cheesy soap opera or a children’s cartoon all of their heads
whip to look at him. “Did you um… just say you love me… like in front of other people?” One
charming strand of hair flops delicately over his forehead like it's been called to perform and is
ready to deliver.

Niall clutches at his chest, everything feeling bubbly.

“Oh um… yeah.”

“Yeah, you did!” Zayn has a sassy little rasp to his voice, but his eyes are teary now too. Of course,
emo Zayn results in emo Niall and Liam, leaving the only person not crying, or at the very least
moist-eyed, at the table Gemma. At least she has a small smile on her face as she sips at Niall’s
beer. That’s better than a minute before.

“That’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it?” Liam states simply as he moves in slowly to place a fairly
intimate kiss (in Niall’s eyes) on Zayn’s waiting lips. If it starts intimate, it quickly turns nsfw, with
tongues and biting and hands just all over the place. Niall’s pretty sure he can see Zayn getting
hard, if the growing line in his jeans can be trusted

Louis shouts, “Oi. Oi. We’re in public!” and sounds slightly more like his usual self even if his red,
puffy face says something different.

Looking beyond starry eyed, Liam and Zayn slowly break apart. Niall senses that Gemma is about
to get them all back on topic as she solemnly sets down his beer (that she has fully commandeered
at this point). It's just by chance that his eyes dart to the door and he notices a certain curly haired
lad standing blotchy-faced with hunched shoulders on the black mat at the entrance. It's meant to
collect snow off people’s boots in an effort to save the already decrepit looking floor from more
damage and to lessen slippy drunken tumbles, but the way he stands there motionless, right at the
edge of it, it feels like it’s sole purpose is to be some kind of Harry barrier. One he just can’t pass.

Sad green eyes stare at Gemma. Gemma has seen him too, but the other lads don’t until she starts
shaking her head as if trying to communicate over the distance between them that it’s not what it
looks like.

One thing's for sure, Harry looks rough. His face gets even blotchier as the number of eyes on him
grows, red patches erupting on his usually milky skin. He’s not dressed for the weather, like he left
their cabin in a hurry, disarrayed curls pulled up in a clip and only a pair of cozy joggers and a
loose-fitting jumper cover his delicate frame. His boots are undone, the laces flopped to the sides
and covered in snow. It looks like there’s snow inside his boots too. He’s not even wearing socks.
Niall wants very badly to give him a cuddle. His eyes dart to Louis because if Niall wants to cuddle
him, what must Louis be feeling? A couple fresh tears are slowly inching down Louis’ face.

Based on the way Gemma is quickly getting up and rushing over to Harry, Niall suspects a Harry
Louis make-up is not in the cards currently. Harry won’t even look in his direction, really won’t
look at anything aside from Gemma and the floor, which is also another sign that Niall’s guess is
accurate. It’s with the mood of a Greek statue, his head tilted vulnerably in his sister’s direction and
his broad, but elegant back (Niall’s comfortable enough with himself to notice an exceptionally
good back) shielding Louis’ eyes, that Harry stubbornly listens to what Gemma has to say. Even
his token curls, dusting his shoulders, give off the sculpted from marble vibe.

Niall can’t make out the conversation at all, but if he can judge by Gemma’s light touch on Harry’s
arm and then the way she exasperatedly throws her hands out wide to the side as if she’s asking
what she was supposed to do, he assumes she’s trying to apologize profusely and it’s not going
well. Harry listens, but the words only make his forehead scrunch angrily. Finally, he says
something back to her (whatever it is, it’s short and clipped) before he spins on a heel and marches
back out into the cold. Niall can see how he huddles his arms around his body as the door closes
after him.

“I’ll be back, lads. But I’ve got to say, this is too much drama for one group of friends. I feel like
we’re in an episode of Grey’s or something…” He makes the half-joke quickly because Harry’s
probably freezing his little tush off already. Louis stares at him silently with big eyes, while Zayn
and Liam nod similar sad frog smiles at him. They can't laugh yet, even though it is humorous, or
will be one day. They are all way too much drama lately, especially now that Gemma is crying
too, right where Harry left her. But it’s only knowing half smiles for now and will be until a
number of things can be smoothed over.

On his way out, Niall passes Gemma, giving her a quick squeeze, “Gonna go get him. I promise
we didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Not even, Lou.”

She snuffles. “Thanks, Niall. He’s so pissed that I came here. He won’t even listen to me. Thinks
I’m taking Louis’ side because I was sitting with all of you. Like I would ever!”

Niall just nods and gives her a light push towards their table, “he'll get over it. It’s just cold and
he’s not even got a jacket on, so I’ve gotta go catch him.” He grabs his own coat by the door and
pushes out into the dark night.

Harry hasn’t gotten very far when Niall catches up to him. He’s literally shivering where he's
stood, and rightfully so. It’s too cold for him to have walked to the bar dressed as he is, let alone
back to his cabin now. The fact that he's not even moving, just cuddling himself and kicking the
snow with his feet, is beyond ridiculous.

“Come on you, eejit,” Niall calls as he approaches, playing up his accent. Once close enough, he
grabs one of Harry’s bare hands, prying it away from where it’s locked on his own bicep. “It’s too
cold to be wandering around like that and I’m not gonna let you freeze to death.” Niall shrugs out
of his coat, feeling the chill instantly in his bones. Although he doesn’t say anything, Harry yields
easily to Niall’s touch, slipping into the jacket without hesitation.

“That’s it. We’ll get you warm clothes back at ours, maybe a tea and then I’ll walk you home.”

“But Louis?” Harry sounds defeated like he wants to be mad at Niall, but he’s too cold and tired to
keep it up.

“I’ll text him. Tell him not to come home for a bit.”

Harry nods. He sweetly clasps Niall’s hand in his and cuddles close to him, their arms intertwined.
Niall doesn’t know if it’s for his sake, or Harry’s but either way he’ll take the gesture and the little
added warmth.

When they get back to his apartment, Niall is a literal ice cube. He thinks Harry is probably in the
same boat. Niall keeps trying to coax him into conversation, but it’s been hard to get more than two
words out of him. They’re sat on the couch both covered in blankets, sipping piping hot tea from
two very silly mugs Niall pulled from the cupboard. To be honest, pretty much all of their mugs
are silly. Harry rubs his bare feet together under the blanket.

“Thank you for this. Was stupid of me to leave the cabin like that. I was just so mad. Told Gemma
I didn’t want her to get involved.”

Niall nods trying not to scare Harry off from talking more.

“And then she was sitting there with you all. I said something really mean, Niall.”

“Nah, I don’t believe that. There’s not a mean bone in that body of yers.”

“I’m just so mad… at… at… everyone.” Harry huffs.

“I get that, mate.”

“You too, Niall. I’m mad at you.”

“That’s ok. You can be mad at me. I still love you.” It’s at this that Harry’s face drops. He reminds
Niall of one of those sad clowns in paintings and he would tell him so, but it’s clear this isn’t the
moment.

With huffed breaths and sniffles that tell Niall tears are on the way, Harry manages to say, “I
thought you hated me, or that I was some dumb joke, or something.”

Niall pulls him in tight, “well now that’s all of us that’ve cried tonight,” he says warmly into
Harry’s soft hair. “And never. Have loved your goofy arse since the minute I laid eyes on ya.”

“All of us?” Harry wipes under his eyes while looking questioningly at Niall.

“Oh. The crying? Yeah, me, Zayn and Liam happy tears because Liam told Zayn he loves him in
front of us for the first time. Louis, well you know why he’s upset and Gemma…”

“I made Gemma cry?” The sad clown has turned into a sad kitten and it’s honestly too much to
handle.

“Yeah, but the boys have her. She’ll be fine.” The quiet of the room soaks up Niall’s words and
they sit with only Harry’s occasional sniffles for company.

“You know we didn’t mean to hurt you, right? None of us.”

“Well you did.” Harry says dryly with a pout just like a grumpy child would.

“I know. But if you just let us explain, I think you’ll feel better,” Niall soothes.

“What’s the point? Louis got what he wanted.”

“He didn’t want this.”

“No? That list says otherwise.”

Niall huffs. He can’t explain that Dave was responsible for the list ending up in Harry’s gift box
without explaining what should have been there instead. He also can’t explain how the list
originated in the first place. Those are things Louis needs to talk to Harry about. So, even if this is
their only chance, there’s literally nothing else he can say that will even remotely help right now.
He leans over, disheartened, placing his hands on his knees and pausing for a moment. With a long
resigned sigh he pushes his body back so he’s still seated, but now reclined. He can feel defeat
seeping through his limbs and settling hard in his belly.

“I think I’m ready to go now.”

“Oh, right.” Niall rubs his palms down his legs as he stands up.

I’ll just get you some socks and some other stuff to keep you warm for the walk.

“Niall?”

“Huh?”

“You think maybe I could borrow one of Louis’ jumpers… for the walk, I mean?”

Well, that’s something.

“Course you can. I’ll grab it.”

Niall smiles to himself as he rummages his own room for socks to fit Harry’s gigantic feet. He
laughs a little as the age-old big feet saying pops into his head. After grabbing an extra pair of
gloves, he moves onto Louis’ room, where he finds a hoodie that’s way too big for Louis, but that
he wears pretty regularly. He’s certain Louis would rather lose the hoodie than Harry and since
Louis wore it within the last couple days, his spicy, yet earthy scent will be all over the thing. And,
yeah, OF COURSE Niall knows what Louis smells like. The kid practically sits in his lap every
chance he gets. The flirt. So it’s from first-hand experience that Niall can definitively say that
there’s no better way to keep Louis top of Harry’s mind than this smelly sweatshirt that Niall has a
feeling Harry doesn’t plan on returning.

Harry watches awkwardly from the hallway, staring at the door to the apartment like looking in
Louis’ room is prohibited, as if he and Louis haven’t sexed up every inch of the space. Niall has no
doubt they have. He’s pretty sure they’ve covered off most of the rest of the apartment as well.

“Here,” Niall says walking past him and handing over the things he’s gathered. He shoos off
Harry’s overly appreciative thank you because it's not necessary. He's happy to help. He passes
over his extra jacket next and then slips into the one he wears more often.

They both dress quietly. The buzz from the strip lighting above them making their silence
comfortable somehow. Niall notices Harry’s head dip low towards the jumper he’s pulled on over
his own. His curls obscure his face, but Niall knows he’s giving it a little sniff. When he looks up,
his expression turns sheepish at being caught.

“I won’t tell him, mate. But honestly just give him a chance to explain.”

It looks like Harry’s actually contemplating it, Niall’s almost bursting in anticipation of his answer
when Harry’s hand darts to his pocket.

“Sorry, it’s my mum. She wasn’t at the cabin when I left. Probably thinks I’m a popsicle in a ditch
somewhere.”

It’s cute how the little accent Harry had when he arrived (Niall guesses from his time growing up
in England, or maybe passed on from Anne) has gotten much more prominent from being around
the other lads.

Niall waves him on to go ahead. With a push of the button on the side of his phone the low
vibrating of the device stops as Harry puts the lit-up screen by his ear without even a glance at it.

“Mum, Hi! Sorry I’m with Niall—” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up almost imperceptibly, but Niall
catches it. “Oh, um. Hi. What’s up?”

The voice that Niall tries desperately to hear coming from Harry’s phone while not overly deep is
definitely too deep for Anne’s. He can only make out tones, not words. It’s a whole Charlie Brown
situation and is sufficiently frustrating.

“A friend… No not that one. Anyway, I need to um… go.” Whoever it is is pushy because they
just keep talking even though Harry is clearly uncomfortable, his words clipped.

“Oh um. I dunno. Can we talk about it later… Tickets? Right, Christmas Eve. Well, uh.”

With green apologetic eyes and cheeks just slightly pinker than normal, Harry mouths the word
sorry at Niall.

“Listen, Ol, I really do have to go… No, I know I probably won’t have anywhere else to wear it,
but um I should give it back anyway. Now that I think about it…”
Harry huffs, rolling his eyes and making a chatty hand symbol at Niall, but Niall can tell the
conversation has him flustered even if he’s trying to play it off.

“Alright, fine. Get it. I’ll text you back later,” he finally gives in. “Yeah. Uh huh. Ok bye.” He hits
the end call button, staring at his phone for a moment.

“Sorry, that…”

“Wasn’t Anne?”

“Uh, no. Not my mum. I wouldn’t have picked up. I like never get actual calls… I mean he barely
called when we were—”

Clearly the last part of Harry’s statement isn’t meant for Niall.

“You ready?” Niall asks because honestly, he’s not sure how to react. He knows it was Harry’s ex
on the phone, which why is he even talking to him at all? The only things he’s heard about Olly
aren’t good. Surely, the mistake Louis made isn’t as bad as cheating. Or maybe in Harry’s eyes it is
because he doesn’t know what really happened. Gemma did say he doesn’t have a ton of friends. If
that’s the case, then it makes a bit more sense him needing someone to confide in, or whatever.
Niall tries to put himself in Harry’s shoes. He doesn’t get it, but he desperately wants to because in
less time than he would like he’s going to have to tell Louis about the overheard conversation and
having some insights into Harry's brain is definitely a must for that chat.

The walk back to Harry’s is a busy sort of quiet. Niall’s too in his head to talk and he guesses Harry
is too. There’s an awkward moment where Harry gives Niall his things back (not mentioning
Louis’ hoodie, or making a move to take it off). Both stand at the door to the cabin in the biting
wind not sure what to do next. Harry keeps looking to his feet and then back up at Niall, all
nervous fluttering lashes and tucks of unruly curls behind his ears. It's like they're waiting to kiss
instead of say goodbye for possibly the last time ever. Finally Niall gives in because this is silly.
He likes Harry. He hopes this isn’t it for their friendship, but who knows. He might as well do this
right just in case.

“Give me a hug?” It’s meant as an emphatic statement, but comes out a question because maybe
Harry doesn’t want to hug him. Maybe Harry’s still mad at him. Apparently, that’s not the case
though because Harry’s eyes brighten at the request and he opens his arms wide wrapping them
around Niall’s waist. Niall hugs him back tightly. Even if he knew what to say he wouldn’t say
anything. The hug's enough.

“Later.” Niall grins when they end their embrace.

“Later,” Harry replies with a little wave.

Niall doesn’t linger. For one, he needs to talk to Louis and two, he hates goodbyes, even if this
hopefully isn’t one.

**

“What’d he say?” Louis is on Niall before he’s even closed the door, but he’s been sitting here
waiting for ages, to be fair.

“Let me at least get out of my boots.”

“Come on, Ni. Does he hate me, or what?” Louis is literally bursting. Seeing Harry so vulnerable
earlier, all exposed to the elements reminds him of a Dashboard song he’s used to hearing wailing
behind the door of his sister’s room.

“A walking open wound, a trophy display of bruises…”

“He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think… But…” Niall blatantly ponders his next words.

“But what?! Seriously, mate, out with it.”

Niall sighs as he hangs his coat on an empty hook.

Sighing. Sighing and Niall is not a good sign.

“Listen, there’s no good way to tell you this, but no more secrets. That shit’s what got you here,
right?”

Niall turns to Louis. He’s gnawing at his nails, an even worse sign then the sighing.

“So, it’s that bad then?”

“Not great, no. You want a smoke?”

Louis’ stomach has settled somewhere near his ankles. Maybe it’s not even a part of his body
anymore, but he couldn’t be that lucky, could he? Where would all the existential dread and such
live. No, it’s definitely still there, a deep cavern full of scary creatures and shit. “No s’all good.
Just tell me. Literally crawling out of me skin.”

“He’s talking to Olly,” Niall spits it out fast and flat around the fingers he’s still nibbling at.

And there it is. The monsters in Louis’ stomach growl, skittering around chaotically.

“He what?”

“I don’t know much. He picked up a call by mistake and I overheard it. Didn’t seem thrilled about
it. But um…”

“For fucks sake, Niall. There’s more?”

Niall’s about to bite his fingers clear off.

“He’s… erm… well it sounded like…”

“Out with it, Ni.”

“They have plans. I think. But like I said Harry didn’t seem excited about it. The opposite really.”

“They have plans?”

“Yeah. Um on your birthday.”

Well that one hurt.

“So that’s it then.” Louis wants to crawl under his sheets and literally never come out. He wants to
turn into a prune, be all dried up and unlovable.

“No. That’s not it! I don’t think Harry wants to go. Annnnd he asked me if he could have one of
your jumpers.”
“He did? Did you give him one?”

“Yeah. Course I did. He said he wanted it for the walk, but he didn’t make a move it give it back
with everything else I lent him.”

“I mean that’s good, innit it? He wouldn’t want me jumper if he hated my guts, would he?”

“No, mate. He wouldn’t.”

Niall and Louis exchange hopeful glances. Louis’ is a little more questioning, but the hidden
meaning in Niall’s words isn’t lost on him. Despite everything he lets the teeniest poke of optimism
attempt to quell the madness still erupting in his belly.

“Why are you two just standing here? I need the washroom and I’d rather the experience be
audience free,” Zayn hobbles around the corner on his good leg with one crutch for support.
Liam’s constantly pestering him to use both, but of course Zayn can’t be bothered.

“Just giving Lou the low-down on all things Harry.”

“You’re sort of smiling… Does that mean good news?”

“A mix,” Louis concedes as he pushes his fringe out of his eyes self-consciously. “He took my
jumper, you didn’t tell me which one, Ni,” Louis gets sidetracked mid-sentence.

“Does it matter?”

Before Louis can answer with ‘not really’, Zayn interjects with, “And the bad? Also, you do realize
I still have to go, right?”

“He has plans with Olly on me birthday.”

“And you didn’t lead with that?! You can’t let it happen, Lou. The guy's a total dick.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do about it. He’s not even speaking to me right now. And it’s not
like I’m magically gonna be in Seattle to keep him busy, am I?"

“Roommate meeting stat!” Zayn bellows.

“I thought you had to wee?” Niall giggles. He’s moved from his fingers to chawing on his
thumbnail. He looks ridiculously cute, all eager blue eyes and a tentative smile. Louis can’t help
but let the image ease his mood just a little.

“I do. ROOMATE MEETING IN FIVE,” Zayn calls, retracting his previous announcement.

“You get you’re literally just hollering to Liam, right?”

“Let me wee in peace. TV room in five. Now go.”

Niall hooks his arms into Louis’ and starts dragging him down the hall. From behind them they
can hear Liam’s door open. They turn to see him poking his head out of his room.

“What’s the racket?”

“Just your lover calling a roommate meeting to sort out what we’re gonna do about Harold.” Niall
responds continuing to pull Louis along.
“Ooooooooh yay! I love a good roommate meeting. Especially when I’m not the one causing shit.”
Liam comes bounding out behind them, wrapping his arms around both Niall and Louis’ shoulders.
They almost make it to the couch when Liam sees Zayn’s crutch leaning against a random folding
chair.

“That little shit is only on one crutch again. ZAYN, I warned you! I’m coming in to hold you
steady.” He turns and runs back down the hall, charging into the bathroom like he ate too many gas
station burritos.

The following commotion actually makes Louis feel partially normal as Zayn screams and then
groans at the intrusion.

“We’re a right mess the lot of us, aren’t we?” Niall cackles. He opens his arms wide and pulls
Louis in for the biggest, warmest hug imaginable. “Good to see you smile, Lou. Now onto plan
‘how to save a Harry’, hey?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No more plans, Niall, but otherwise. Yeah, sounds good.”

By the end of the night, they’ve concocted their ‘plan’, which isn’t much of a plan at all. Zayn
wouldn’t let slip what Olly had done to make the whole saving Harry thing imperative. But Louis
knows he means it. His imploring eyes a golden sepia like a forest clearing on an Autumn day, all
sentimental and charged with the unknown, tell him so.

Basically they’ve landed on stealing multiple sets of walkie-talkies from the grounds crew and
using them to alert Louis of Harry’s location at all times for the next two and a half days. From
there Louis is meant to use this info to (sneak away from work) and randomly show up at said
locations where he will do his best to befriend Harry all over again. How this will result in Harry
not getting together with Olly, Louis doesn’t know, but he’s willing to give it a shot. He’ll literally
give anything a shot to make it up to Harry at this point.

**

It feels like a weird day and Harry can only attribute that to a few things:

1. Him wearing Louis’ hoodie even though he knows it’s a horrible idea. Why is he such a glutton
for pain?
2. His fight with Gemma the previous evening and the awkwardness left over between them.
3. The weird sense that Louis is around every corner, constantly in his peripherals.

He self-consciously tugs at the jumper again and looks over his shoulder to see if he can spot Louis
anywhere. The cafeteria is busy, but he’s certain he could pick out that messy head of hair
anywhere.

“What’s up?” Gemma asks, rounding his other side. They’re grabbing a quick coffee in between
runs on the slopes. Gemma’s hands are full with her own and Anne’s. Her eyebrows are cocked
high and a little teasing. “You look like that time at Boots when the Corrin twins dared you to steal
that lipstick you liked.”

“It was tinted lip gloss, thank you very much. And nothing. Come on.”

Harry peeks around himself one more time quickly, ninety-eight percent sure he catches a glimpse
of Louis, but he can't check again without drawing Gemma's attention. When they’re back at the
table with Anne, he slips into his jacket and zips it up just in case.

“Are you getting sick, hun? You’ll freeze outside if you’ve got that on now.” Anne eyes the
movement with concern.

Harry light-heartedly shrugs off Anne's question with a comment he barely registers that also
seems to appease her. He can’t shake off the feeling of being watched, making concentrating on
anything else impossible. His focus is instead on continually peeking around him as surreptitiously
as possible while taking small sips of his coffee in an effort to look natural, which definitely isn't
working.

Everyone else in the large room seems to be having a good time. Laughing, reading, snacking. It’s
almost like their rubbing their happiness in Harry’s face. He will fully admit he’s jealous. He
wasn’t in the mood to come out today, but he can’t let his last few days go to waste. At least he sort
of made up with Niall last night. That feels good, he thinks. Even if he wants to still be mad at him,
he’s not. Maybe he’s stupid, or too nice, but being friends with Niall just feels right.

“Just gonna pee,” he says absentmindedly as he gets up from the table. He’s let his guard down a
little, not looking as he turns to toss his cup into the closest recycling bin. Gemma often teases him
that he doesn’t pay attention to his body and its proximity to other people. He feels his hand land
against the material of a snow jacket. It’s that slick kind of waterproof sheen type fabric right
against his fingers. A somewhat loud huff follows and he turns quickly to apologize to whoever he
knocked the wind out of.

“Ugh. Hey Curly. Got me good that time,” Louis groans out, one side of his lips raised slightly.

Harry thanks all the gods ever and then some that he put his jacket back on.

“Oh. Uh hey, Lou… Louis. Um I… Need to wee.”

Louis’ eyebrows raise to his forehead and he looks like he wants to say something else, but Harry
doesn’t give him the chance. Instead, he spins around and marches straight for the washroom. His
mind whirls while he’s at the urinal. Processing what just happened is definitely not going to be a
thing. He washes his hands on autopilot and then with as much caution as possible goes back to
meet Anne and Gemma. Louis isn’t anywhere in sight.

Another bout of praise goes to the gods. Any gods. Harry doesn’t care. He’s just doling it out if
they’ll keep him from seeing Louis again. But also he can’t help thinking how Louis’ fringe has
gotten a little long, sticking out from under his beanie and that the way it dipped slightly over one
eye may have been particularly appealing.

No! He’s not thinking about that.

Things seem to be going a bit smoother after a couple trips down their favourite hill. They only
have a few they’re all good enough to ride, so they tend to stick to the same one or two. This one is
actually a fairly decent size. He rounds the bottom sliding up to where they catch the lift.

“Again!’ Gemma says as she glides by on skis still having momentum from her run. Anne comes
along behind her. There’s a bit of a line for the lift and it seems they’re rearranging people from
what Harry can tell. Definitely not a usual occurrence. He can see a child off to the side by the lift
attendant. Another staff member comes down the line grouping people in threes and fours.

“You two with me,” he gestures to Anne and Gemma. “Make a hole people.”

“My son is with us as well.”

“That’s ok, Miss. He’ll be up behind you. The lift is being finnicky. Need to even out the loads.”
Harry swallows. He’s gotten better at the lift, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still make him
anxious as fuck.

“You good?” Anne asks, already being pulled forward by Gemma.

Harry nods because what else is he gonna do? Cry to his mum that he doesn’t want to ride with
strangers. No, he’s almost twenty and a full-on adult. He can handle this. He watches as Anne and
Gemma are loaded on the lift, the tightness in his chest increasing.

“Ok now you.” The staff member is back and waving Harry up through the rest of the crowd.

When Harry gets to the line to wait for the lift, he looks around for whoever’s joining him, but no
one does.

Oh god! He’s all tall and gangling so they’re making him ride alone!

Harry chokes on his breath, debating if he can back out while watching the chair in front of him
move up. His body mechanically scoots forward at the appropriate time (without him seeming to
tell it to). From there everything happens in a bit of a blur. The girl running the lift waves at him to
push to one side, so he does and the child beside her easily shoots over beside him. On the other
side of the attendant booth there's also movement. Harry doesn't realize it's Louis who joins them
just before the lift takes off, until they're all seated and he's lowering the metal bar in front of them.
He can't help but react with an annoyed huff that draw's the attention of Louis and the kid, who
Harry guess is his student.

“That was weird, huh, Lou.” The kid asks. “Never had to wait around like that to catch the lift
before.”

It looks like Louis is blushing and trying to use mind magic to make this kid shut their mouth. “Uh
yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

Harry huffs again in exasperated disbelief. He can’t call Louis out for setting this up. Not with this
random child between them.

“Uh Hi Harry,” Louis leans over the railing to peer at him.

“Hi. Again.”

“Funny how this keeps happening…”

“You two know each other?” The kid pipes in.

“Yeah,” Harry responds just a level higher than completely flat. He is talking to a kid after all.

“Are you friends?”

“Um… I mean.” Harry doesn’t know what to say, not with Louis looking at him with those eyes,
all big and blue. He can’t think straight.

“Me and Louis are friends,” the kid jumps in easily. “He’s the best.”

“Thanks, Klara. That’s sweet.” Louis looks at his board, lightly tapping and drumming on the bar
beneath his gloved hands.

“So um, Harry?” He finally says.

Harry looks over Louis’ way, waiting for his following question.

“Well I was just wondering if…” he moves his hands to his thighs.

There’s a weird beeping noise from Louis’ side of the lift followed by a moment of static and then
Niall’s exuberant voice, “They’re on the lift, lads! ON THE LIFT!”

There’s another beep, static and this time comes Liam, “NIALL, wrong channel!”

The same happens again and Niall simply says, “AH FECK!”

The kid starts giggling, “your friends are stupid, Louis.”

“Yeah, I know.” Louis hangs and shakes his head.

There’s turmoil inside Harry. He wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, wants to know what
Louis was just about to ask him, but also has this incredible sense of unease. This feels like some
kind of game. And after the note the idea of being pranked, or tricked is incredibly triggering.

“Gonna lift the bar,” Louis sighs.

“I love this part!” Klara states.

Harry just nods, his stomach in knots and for the first time it’s not because of the lift.
 Chapter 21

Harry veers to the far left of the hill after he clears the disembarking area. Normally he would stick
to the other side, but Louis and his student went that direction and the way he needs a break from
everything is overwhelming. Trying to sort the jumble of emotions all piling on top of each other
has his body in flight mode, while his brain is preoccupied in processing the overabundance of
stimuli. It feels like thousands of energetic stars are bursting under the skin on his forearms. The
very worst kind of anxiety.

His board is tipping towards the hill before he’s even considered what he’s doing, a slow
momentum starting to build. He slides perpendicularly for a moment to get his bearings, making
sure to look up from the spot just in front of his feet. Sometimes when he’s riding, he can get so
focused on checking his stance and the space directly around him that he forgets to see what lies
beyond it. In this instance he’s greeted with a snowy maze of symmetrical bumps. Trees line one
side of the narrow hill and the other is fenced off with orange plastic barriers. The whole thing is
intimidating to say the least.

And that’s why they always stay to the right… because moguls…

His inner monologue is literally making the neutral face emoji at him and he wants to scream.
Moguls were not on his list of things to do today and it’s nearly impossible for him to turn around.
The only way would be resorting to toddler levels of mobility and awkwardly scuttling on his bum
back to the top. He has a feeling that’s probably frowned upon. Another boarder whips down the
hill past him, maneuvering the death-trap below with ease.

Wait is that that Klara kid? Harry feels like he recognizes the pink hat bopping on the kid’s head.

That means Louis is….

There's a purposeful throat clearing from behind him.

“You alright?”

With his heels dug in, Harry manages to come to almost a complete stop like Louis taught him. He
peeks over his shoulder, board only inching slowly downhill. He’s still worried he’ll somehow turn
himself front facing and start careening towards his untimely demise.

“No. No, I’m not.” Harry means it in reference to more than just his current situation, but at this
point he’ll take sorting the most immediate problem first. The nod Louis sends back his way makes
Harry think that maybe he can sense the deeper significance of his response.

“Want help?”

“With that? Yes, please.” Harry thumbs towards the mountain below them.

“Really?” Louis noticeably perks up.

“Well if it’s either you or imminent death, it’s you, but I don’t think that’s saying much.”

“That’s fair.”

Louis slides down the hill to get closer to Harry, closer than Harry expects. It’s stupid how his
index finger is literally twitching in his mitten with the urge to boop Louis’ nose. Harry clenches
his fists. Once again, his brain and body are betraying him. They really have no sense of self-
preservation at all.

“So, I’ll go first and I’ll go slow. You stick close. Usually, they get a bit worn down when it’s this
busy. I’ll try to steer us through the easiest way. You call my name if something feels off.”

It’s a simple statement. One that should do nothing to Harry’s heart, but the way it reminds him of
how Louis is… like in bed, hits too close to home. Harry’s not sure if he’ll ever get over trying to
prove his sexual prowess. In the past he’s attempted to relax and go with the flow, let the other
person take the lead, but he always felt judged somehow. Olly had distinctly given him the
impression that Harry was being a lazy fuck if he didn’t go out of his way to perform. And
sometimes that’s what it felt like—a performance. It wasn’t only Olly either. He can’t remember a
partner he didn’t have to try with. It’s like people just assumed he’d be the one to make the first
move, or to be more dominant. He often wonders if he’s just projecting his insecurities; he is the
common denominator, after all. Until Louis, anyway. Louis came along and made sex fun. It
wasn’t about impressing anyone, or doing a fair share of the work. It was just good and easy. He
knew how to make everything feel safe and adventurous at the same time. Until Harry got in his
own head and mucked it all up, anyway.

“Harold, you with me?”

“Oh, um yeah.” There’s an uncontrollable hitch in Harry’s awkwardly high-pitched voice that he
internally curses himself for.

Louis gives him a funny look. Assessing and, is that, pity? Fuck, Harry hopes not. Has Louis
turned into a mind reader in the last few days? Because he seems to know exactly what Harry’s
thinking. Eventually, he turns around and starts carving a path for them down the hill. It’s not easy
for Harry to follow behind, what with managing his speed and maneuvering his board in much
tighter spaces than he’s used to. The fact that he is able take his eyes off Louis’ spectacular arse as
he squats then stands with the motion of his turns speaks to just how dire Harry knows the situation
is.

Somehow, he manages to clunkily get around the first few mounds of snow without the end of his
board getting stuck. It’s quite the feat. He’s almost to the flattened area where the hill starts to peter
out, can see it like some kind of freedom right up ahead. His muscles start to loosen, shoulders
sinking from the tense place they’ve been in up by his ears. That’s when it happens, of course. He
catches an edge, or doesn’t turn his board enough. It’s all too quick to know for sure. Either way,
Harry’s torso twists awkwardly away from his lower half before he lands on his back with a painful
thud. The thing he hates about big falls is how they knock the wind out of you and leave you
feeling a little shaky. He looks up at his legs. They’re in the air still attached to his board. Even
though all he wants to do is close his eyes and pretend this isn’t happening, he tries to roll himself
onto his bum. He can’t get a good angle, though, to put his legs down flat because he’s in between
two moguls, so he ends up lolling around fruitlessly like a turtle that’s flipped to its shell.

Harry guesses the large “oof” and the subsequent noises of him trying to heft himself back up are
what alert Louis to his situation because like magic the boy is looming over him, arms outstretched
with a concerned look etched on his face. And he’s so pretty Harry could imagine they're in a rom
com of their very own. The blue eyes that gaze down at him remind him of hydrangeas and the
sound of crickets in late August. Fat lazy caterpillar lashes frame his eyes in the most appealing
way.

Remember the list, Harry! Harry scolds himself while trying not to stare too hard. It’s just his luck,
isn’t it? To be this helpless, lying on the ground literally unable to get up, but also fawning to the
point of being lost for words. And it's all for someone he shouldn’t be feeling anything towards
currently, except maybe disdain.

“You ok?”

“Just um… stuck.” Harry moves his legs in the air to show what he means.

It’s when Louis bends on one knee and starts undoing Harry’s binding that Harry notices his board
is nowhere in sight. Louis frees both Harry’s feet, wedges the board in the snow for a moment and
offers up both his hands.

“We’re almost to the bottom. Let’s walk the rest.”

It’s always astounding, Louis’ strength. He takes Harry’s hands and pulls him to standing, easily
wrapping an arm around his back to ensure he has his footing before stepping away from him
entirely. He hides his face as he picks up Harry’s board, tucking it under one arm to carry it down
the hill.

“Ready?” The question is shy and tentative.

“Uh huh.”

Harry would find their initial silence beyond uncomfortable, but still being a little shaken from his
fall, he’s focused on watching every step he takes and doesn’t notice much of anything else.

Louis clears his throat.

“So I should erm… I need to apologize.”

Harry panics making some kind of weird braying noise, but no actual words come out. He can
barely walk down this hill in a straight line, he definitely can’t take an apology in his current state.
As if in proof, he loses his footing, catching himself before he can crash down on the snow again.
Louis goes to stop his fall, but backs away when Harry manages to correct himself.

“Later? Would later be okay?” Harry asks desperately. He’s not ready. Can’t even pretend to be
ready in the slightest.

“Yeah. Yup. Later it is.” Louis is quick to respond.

They get to the bottom of the hill where Klara has collected Louis’ board and is smiling at them
like it’s Christmas morning. Wow that stops Harry for a second because it actually is almost
Christmas morning. Time got away from him these past few days and it’s almost weird to think of
the holiday he’s barely prepared for looming up ahead, not to mention everything else tied to it…
most predominantly the end of his vacation and his time with Louis.

“Lou, can we do that again? It was so fun.” Klara begs.

Louis sneaks a quick look at Harry, rolling his eyes. He passes him his board and says quietly, “so
later, yeah?”

Harry nods because he’s not sure he’s capable of words. That’s enough for Louis it seems. He
gives Harry a quiet smile then turns back to Klara and says, “yeah, c’mon then.”

As they walk away Harry can hear Klara commenting, “I hope we don’t have to wait for the lift
forever like last time.”
**

It feels like the majority of times they’ve eaten at the resort dining room Harry’s been an
uncomfortable mess, so it stands to reason that this evening would be no different. Like a complete
imbecile, he forgot he was still wearing Louis’ hoodie when they left. In his defense they were in a
rush after getting back to the cabin with only ten minutes before the last seating and had to
basically drop their stuff and head back out again. With literally all the boys except Zayn working
this shift, Harry’s having quite the time keeping the stolen garment hidden. He slouches low in his
chair, but knows it’s not doing anything for his current situation. He can’t even put his jacket back
on because they took it at the door. And what’s worse—the sweatshirt is positively ripe.

After his sweaty boarding session earlier and just regular use for the rest of the day, the scent that
keeps hitting him is this combo Louis/Harry stank that sadly reminds him of sex, which, he thinks
sarcastically, isn’t at all embarrassing. No, it’s completely fine that he reeks like only post-coital
sheets can while at dinner with his mother and sister, not to mention having Louis, all his friends
and Dave also in his close vicinity. Not embarrassing at all. No sir. That was also a fun surprise,
when he noticed Dave cockily strutting by their table. He keeps giving Harry dirty looks too, which
certainly isn’t making Harry feel any more at ease.

When Harry dares to look at Louis (more often than he cares to admit), he's vacillating between this
adorable little barely there half smile, the angriest murderous glare Harry’s ever seen him wear and
shoulder hunched chagrin. It’s a lot for Harry to keep up with. He’s not even sure if he’s still mad
at Louis. He thinks he should be, but maybe just maybe some of his initial anger has faded a little.

Liam’s their actual server and has been giving Harry and his family the biggest apologetic puppy
dog eyes the whole meal. He’s blushed and stumbled over his words every time he’s approached
the table. Niall must be back of house because every now and again Harry hears his voice ringing
jovially from behind the swinging door. It’s literally the only thing keeping him remotely grounded
and he’s thankful that their table is close enough to the kitchen for the sound to carry.

“Are you excited?” Gemma’s leaning over the table, her elbows on the white linen tablecloth and
her eyes trained on Harry.

“Sorry, for?” Harry turns to find her attention focused solely on him. He’d been trying to catch
another look at Louis as he was walking by.

“Potter marathon, of course. I can’t wait for the gift exchange! And just to be at home and all cozy.
I mean this has been great, mum, but it hasn’t really felt like Christmas, has it?” She glances at
Anne with a little shrug.

“Mmmmm. I’ll be happy to be back in my own kitchen. What do you think of your mum’s famous
spaghetti our first night back?”

“Yummmmm. And then we can sit on the couch with big glasses of red and binge all the Jamie
Oliver Christmas specials! Sounds divine,” Gemma almost squeals while trying to sound extra
posh. “Right, Harry?”

“Yeah, I mean that does sound pretty good, actually.” Even though the idea of leaving still makes it
feel like his heart is a whimpering puppy inside his chest, the evening Gemma’s just described
does sound homey and simple. It could be just what he needs right now, especially with the
constant awkward drama he’s been dealing with the last little while.

Liam approaches their table with a plate in each hand and a third balanced perfectly on his left
forearm. He sets them down with something akin to reverence, practically bowing to Anne,
Gemma and then Harry, as he places their meals in front of them.

“Do you need anything else at the moment?” He asks, righting himself and looking more than
happy to bring whatever they could possibly think of that they may want—a drink, a whole new
meal, even the moon. Harry doesn’t understand it. He already made up with Liam and it’s not like
his name was on Louis’ stupid list, so what’s all the extra attention for?

Liam scoots away after Anne thanks him profusely. He won’t leave without her adamant
confirmation that they’re good.

“He seems nice. Anxious, but sweet,” she remarks hesitantly, almost like she’s speaking to herself.

Harry hears a dull thunk and by the look on his mum’s face he guesses Gemma just gave her a kick
under the table. Turning his head sheepishly he momentarily hides behind his curls. The shame of
them always feeling sorry for him stings like burrs being repeatedly dragged along his arms, but on
the inside of his skin. It’s prickly and cringe-worthy. Neither Gemma, or Anne are the type to
judge, but all the same, it’d be nice not to always feel like they pity him.

The noise of a kerfuffle from the kitchen catches his attention as he’s prepping himself to turn back
and face his family. The exchange of raised voices, one he knows well, but has never heard sound
like this, has him craning his neck to look farther over his shoulder. The noise grows and with it
more and more patrons swivel to catch a look at what’s happening. Harry’s heart thuds erratically
and he doesn’t even know why. The constant anxiety he’s had lately must be taking its toll.

Even so, something is definitely up. The dining room itself is relatively quiet, not a server in sight.
Harry’s eyes are locked on the door to the kitchen. He wonders if anyone else feels the weird
anxious calm that seems to engulf the room. It doesn’t last. The kitchen door swings open. Harry
can see a whole gaggle of people back there, but it’s just white shirts and black pants due to the
fact that his attention is focused on one sole person. Dave seems to be having his main character
moment, strolling across the room with heated ease.

There’s this sensation of time moving slower and faster simultaneously, which Harry thinks should
just be regular speed, but that’s not what he’s experiencing. The slowness appears in the way he
can feel the hairs on his arm raise almost one at a time and how a quick swallow seems to drag on
forever in his parched throat. And what’s that all about? He just recently had a sip of water.

Even though Dave seems to be progressing towards him at a rapid rate, he has time to take in every
aspect of Dave’s look and manner. It all screams danger. The maroon carpeting contrasts against
his shiny black dress shoes as they quickly stride his way and the corners of his smile turn up
almost maliciously, like a TV villain. His hair even has a menacing look to it, more styled than
usual with the blond waves clearly stiff from whatever he’s put in them. There’s this little happy
twitch in his right eye as he catches Harry looking at him.

“Oh, fuck!” Harry mutters unintentionally and faces his mum and Gemma, who stare at him utterly
confused. It’s not just them staring either, he can feel the rest of the tables looking in his direction
as well.

“Harry?” Anne asks. There’s tension in her voice.

The thought of just getting up and running feels very tempting, but honestly, he wouldn’t have time
even if he tried. Harry can’t be certain since he’s turned away from Dave, but he knows his own
speed and, more to the point, lack of coordination.

Gemma’s eyebrows suddenly shoot toward her hairline and her hand pops up to cover her lips.
“What?” Harry asks, gaining the courage to twist his body and look behind him. He catches sight
of Niall full on running towards him. He's polished in his work uniform, making the visual beyond
silly and Harry badly wants to giggle. Niall’s face is set with comic determination, his arms
pumping as he launches himself into the air, literally tackling Dave to the ground while shouting,
“Not on my watch, you don’t!”

A huge grimace distorts Dave’s face as he basically belly flops to the carpet. Liam comes running
from behind Niall and takes over wrangling their angry captive, as Niall jumps to his feet like a
court jester. He addresses the room with a smile.

“Sorry about that, folks. Dinner theatre started early tonight it seems.”

Harry hears a woman at the next table say, “Oooooh there’s dinner theatre. You know how I love
dinner theatre.” He can picture the eye roll her companion sends her way, if they have any sense
that is. He also hears Niall offer the whole dining room free dessert, before approaching their table.

“Hi Gemma, Anne. Wondering if I can steal Harold here for a moment?”

“Yeah. Take him. He’s not been much conversation tonight anyway.” Gemma winks as Harry let’s
out a quiet, “heeeeeeey.”

He gets up and follows Niall anyway, asking, “where are we going?” This whole day has been a
complete shit show and Harry will be more than thrilled when its over. Niall doesn’t respond, but
the answer is clear only moments later when they’re stood in the waiting area just outside the
dining room. It’s currently empty, aside from Louis looking very embarrassed and sporting a big
red welt on his cheek.

With a quick ruffle of Harry’s hair, Niall leans in and whispers, “just give him a chance.” Then he
struts off back to work like nothing remotely out of place has happened.

The sound of Louis’ scuffing his feet on the carpet brings Harry back to the moment. They’re
standing across the room from each other and Harry’s not sure if he wants to get any closer.

“Sorry about that.” Louis gestures at the dining room behind them, raising his voice to be a bit
louder than normal to cover the distance between them.

“Um what was that?”

“Dave being… well Dave.”

“Which means?”

“I dunno. I think he was just gonna say some fucked up shit.”

“Oh.”

The swollen mark on Louis’ cheek is almost crimson. Harry takes a few steps closer to get a better
look.

“What happened to your face?”

“He chucked a plastic butter packet at me.”

“He WHAT? Why?”

Louis inches towards Harry ever so slightly.

“Long story and I unfortunately don’t actually have time to explain, but um… Harry I’m so sorry. I
shouldn’t have made the list. I was… I dunno… I just thought I wasn’t gonna be good for you. I
didn’t see how it would work, but I didn’t want you to think it had anything to do with you because
it didn’t and it was only a few days where I even considered it. I really like you and… I fucked up.”

Harry finds himself stepping closer again, around one of the couches and within touching distance
of Louis.

“Why… Why didn’t you think it would work?” The skin on Harry’s hands feels dry as he picks at
his cuticles.

“Well. I mean we just met and I guess I liked you too much. It was weird and I figured when does
long distance ever work?”

“So that’s why you put the note in the box?”

“That wasn’t me. Would never!”

Harry unthinkingly tugs at his hoodie string (Louis’ hoodie string to be precise).

“Nice jumper.” Louis shifts from their previous discussion like they hadn’t even been having it. He
steps closer to Harry so that they’re almost toe to toe. “Looks familiar.” He boldly tugs on the
string just under where Harry’s fingers sit.

Harry’s lost in Louis’ tentative smirk and his eyes that look almost pleading from under his thick
lashes. Harry loves those damn lashes.

“Sorry um you can have it back. I –”

Louis’ words are soft, like stars and clouds and warm water. “You can keep it. Suits you.”

It’s literally without a second of consideration that Harry finds himself surging forward, smashing
his lips into Louis’ lips. It’s a bit of a surprise to both of them and Harry almost backs off with
instant regret, except that Louis’ hands are immediately clutching him by the bum, pulling him
closer, his perfect tongue dipping into Harry’s mouth, cool as it glides along his own. He tastes
like cigarette smoke and a minty flavoured gum. Harry adores it even though he knows he
shouldn’t.

They kiss for a while, longer than is reasonable with Harry’s meal getting cold at the table and
Louis’ guests likely receiving little to no service. When they finally pry themselves apart, Louis
shrugs reluctantly.

“I gotta get back. I… um… can we talk? Maybe tonight? Or tomorrow?”

“Yeah. That’d be ok. I mean good. That’d be good.” Harry tugs at the bottom of his sweatshirt
with clammy hands.

“Ok then.” Louis grudgingly heads back to his shift, peeking over his shoulder twice to where
Harry stands unmoving watching him. He thinks he might stay in this one spot for the rest of his
life, like his limbs no longer know how to function correctly. That is until Louis with one last little
tuck of his fringe gives him a glance that could make even the most cantankerous person alive turn
to a blushing pile of goo. Harry knows he’s staring, open-mouthed staring to be exact, but there’s
not a damn thing he can do about it. It’s official, he’s been rendered entirely useless by one Louis
Tomlinson.
**

Louis knows he’s a lucky prat. That’s the only explanation for the previous night’s kiss. The fact
that Harry’s even remotely considering forgiving him, which is what he assumes that kiss was, is
beyond what he imagined would happen after low-key stalking him all day. At most he thought he
could apologize and use their last little bit of time to figure out why Harry is even contemplating
getting together with Olly and how to stop it.

Niall saving the day with the whole Dave tantrum situation was another amazing stroke of good
fortune. Louis had literally seen any progress he made with Harry evaporate before his eyes when
Dave peevishly stormed from the kitchen, after tormenting Louis all evening and pinging him in
the head with a plastic butter packet, that is.

Louis has no idea what he had planned to say to Harry. It’s not like there’s any more dirt to spill.
Dave’s already done all the damage he can there, so Louis figures some good old fashioned passive
aggressive embarrassment was in the cards. Either way, Niall is definitely the hero of the moment.
And bloody good news that is. Louis knew it would be a huge fist fight if he had taken Niall’s
place. He would have done it too, but Niall’s quick thinking meant he didn’t have to. He could
have lost his job, or worse. Niall knew it. It’s why he sent Louis away, to avoid any further drama
when they dragged Dave back to the kitchen.

The kiss, well that was just a delightful, yet unexpected result of his own removal from the area of
Dave's little scene. Maybe that's irony in action? And if it is, Louis is not above rubbing it in
Dave's face one day. He most definitely deserves that kind of karma. But if it means seeing Dave
again, Louis is also happy to be the bigger man because more than anything he wants that prick out
of his life for good.

All in all he still considers himself a jammy sod with how things have worked out. Ok maybe
management keeping them back after their shift to go over respect in the workplace wasn’t a
promising sign. And the new mandatory meeting scheduled for 8am (a mere half hour away)
looms like a dark cloud in an otherwise clear sky. Even so, he can’t complain. Harry might forgive
him and that is huge. It’s everything really.

Louis hasn’t texted him yet to set-up a time to chat. It was too late last night and he didn’t feel right
about sending a message that could come off as a booty call. He’s ready to do it, though, as soon as
it’s late enough for Harry to be up. He only has a couple lessons later, so he’s hoping Harry will
agree to spending as much time together as they can fit in.

After shoving in some fruity cereal, it’s the first time all the boys have eaten breakfast together in
ages, they all trek over to the main building. The little room is warm and full of bodies, literally
everyone on staff not working reception, or the breakfast shift. The beige walls and dirty linoleum
add a somberness to the gathering. Neil, the big boss, is dressed in a suit. He addresses the room
with a sternness not usually found in his voice, or manner. It makes Louis nervous. He’s still not
certain if he’ll get fired. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“After last night’s debacle we’ll be putting strict rules in place. You are to check in with me before
every shift, whether it be teaching, running the equipment, or in one of the resort areas like the spa,
or the restaurant. We’ve outlined how that will work since some shifts have little time between
them. We’ll also be adding staff to cover those that we’ve had to let go. I hope you all know we’ve
never had to do this before. We’ve always prided ourselves on being flexible and allowing you to
enjoy the benefits of working here. And I think you can all agree there are many benefits. But as
this year we have had some real issues with appropriate behaviour, we need to pull back some of
that freedom that we have other year’s been happy to provide…” Neil drones on and Louis can
only half listen.

He can see all of his friends wearing nervous expressions that probably match his own. It’s not like
they’re in a much better position than he is, not after they took the snowmachines when Zayn got
hurt. And even though what Niall had done was by far the smartest thing in the situation, he was
also in a bit of hot water for causing a scene. The talk of people being let go is clearly affecting
them all. Louis zones in and out for most of the discussion. It's fine. One of the boys will fill him in
later. He always has a hard time concentrating when he's supposed to. It's not until he"s being
handed the revised schedules for the next two weeks, that he realizes how fucked he actually is.

“Jesus,” he hears Niall whisper as he glances at Louis’ time sheets. There's barely a second to use
the toilet, let alone see Harry.

Louis feels his world crumble, yet again, as all the breath leaves his body.

The noise level in the room starts to grow as people grumble over their new shifts. There are a few
people missing from the room, Dave being one of them, and their names have also been removed
from the schedules. Louis feels like he should at least be happy he and his friends managed to keep
their jobs. It’d be a lot worse to be booted out of the country than having too many shifts, but he
currently finds it hard to think that way.

“Well, there goes that then.” The statement escapes his lips in a flat defeated tone.

“Nah, c’mon, mate. Don’t be like that. Neil’s not heartless. We’ll tell him what’s going on and he’ll
make an exemption.”

"Niall, he won’t.”

“You can’t get like this every time something goes wrong, you know. Text Harry. See when he’s
free at least.”

**

Whether it was Louis putting self defeating beliefs into the universe, ones so strong even Niall’s
optimism couldn’t combat them, or just that his lucky streak had run out, no matter what he tried
from begging Neil to let him have the day off to trying to squeeze even a minute between lessons
and service to meet with Harry, nothing worked.

His anxiety and dread grew as the hours passed. Harry had texted him back that he could meet-up
whenever, but Louis didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t explain everything going on work-
wise without typing out a novel and he really didn’t have time for that. So, in usual Louis fashion,
he did the worst thing he could without meaning to. He left Harry on read. He’s only realizing
now, after his dining room shift as he hurriedly turns his phone back on. Another new work rule,
phones off while on shift or they get confiscated. How anyone would know is beyond Louis and he
doesn’t think it’s even legal, but he's not taking chances. His phone buzzes back to life. He watches
as the notifs pop up showing three missed messages from Harry.

At 1pm: Hey. My family will be back soon. Getting close?

At 4:30pm: Been waiting all day. What happened?
At 7pm: Seriously?

Fuuuuuuuuck!

His fingers stumble over the keypad as he tries to type much quicker than they can accommodate.
I’m an ass. I can explain. Meet me now?
His text remains unanswered as he scrambles into his regular clothes. There aren’t even the three
little dots to show that Harry might respond.

Double Fuck!

“He’s not answering,” Louis says desperately, with no context aside from holding his phone up to
Niall’s face as he walks by.

Niall pulls out his own phone and quickly types a message, “we’ll see.” He gives Louis a little
wink that Louis can’t even attempt to read. Does this lad ever get phased? He’s like the most
positive human on the planet.

“To the bar!” Niall holds his phone high over his head like the Olympic torch and announces to
whoever is left in the kitchen.

There’s still no text after twenty minutes and two beers. Harry has also not shown up. It’s rounding
one in the morning and Louis honestly can’t let anymore time go by.

He tugs at Niall’s shirt sleeve. They’re seated beside each other.

“I need to talk to him, Ni.”

Niall looks at his texts, scrunches his brow for a moment and begins to squish out of the booth
dragging Louis with him.

“Alright, then. Come on, mate.”

The other boys have had just as mad a workday as Louis and there’s literally no prying them away
from their beverages. Zayn mutters a quick grunt as they leave and Liam gives a hopeful little
smile, while Ed practically cries into his beer, completely missing the fact that Niall and Louis are
on their way out.

It’s cold, of course. They huddle together for the walk even though they both have plenty of warm
clothes on. Louis loves a little cuddle and Niall must sense that he needed one at the moment.

“We can’t just knock on the door, you know. It’s late.”

“I’ve got a plan.” Niall grins mischievously as he extricates himself from Louis’ arm, entwined
with his own. He pulls a bag of skittles from his pocket and shakes them at Louis.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“They’re not to eat, fool. We’re gonna toss ‘em at Harry’s window.”

“Niall! You’re a genius.” Louis plants a sloppy kiss on his friend’s cheek.

“Ewwwwwwww. Get yer gross beer spit off ‘a me.”

Louis ignores as Niall wipes his hand over his wet cheek, instead attacking him with a tight
walking hug that makes them both almost wipeout.

At Harry’s window not even ten minutes later, Louis has lost some of the rambunctious energy that
had him and Niall acting like total knobs on the way there. Then he was sure this would work, but
now, now not so much.

Once again Niall seems carefree, an enormous, goofy grin takes over his whole face. In the centre
of his palm he’s placed a green skittle and he holds it out to Louis like it’s something sacred.

“Should I ask why you randomly have a bag of candy in your pocket?”

"I would think you’d just be grateful, to be honest.”

“Touché.”

Louis plucks the candy from Niall’s hand with his forefinger and his thumb.

“What are the odds I can even hit his window.”

“Aye, you’re a fairly sporty lad.” Niall gives him a playful shove with his forearm to Louis’
shoulder. “Give it a go!” He’s hamming up his accent to lighten the mood.

Louis sucks in a breath and throws the Skittle with a decent amount of force at the darkened
window above them. It’s a pretty still night and both Louis and Niall turn and give each other a
surprised look when the sound of the candy pinging off glass fills the air.

“Give me another,” Louis rushes out.

“You’re not gonna try to find that one?

“Honestly?”

“Well, I mean what a waste of good treats.”

Louis can only roll his eyes as Niall hands over the bag.

One after another the coloured candies bounce off Harry’s window. After a while, with a rainbow
of dots peppering the snow, they’re mission to wake Harry morphs into more of a game than
anything else. They’ve picked a spot on the window, dirt, or bird poop, or something, that Louis is
trying to hit dead centre. He’s having such a good time he’s nearly forgotten why they’re there.
Niall’s beside him, cheering on every throw. That is, until the light flips on and both Louis and
Niall freeze on the spot, complete silence hushing their previous laughter.

Louis sucks in a breath as Harry approaches the window. They can see clearly in the room now. He
wonders if Harry can see them. It’s pretty dark out, but the cabin does have some exterior lighting.
The thing is Harry is completely naked, his dick hanging there as beautiful as the last time Louis
saw it. He has a hip cocked and he flips his hair moodily as he stares down at Louis. After what
seems like years, he raises his hand and along with it his middle finger to flip Louis off. Louis is
almost certain his own mouth is hanging so far open that his chin is touching the fucking snow on
the ground. And of course, this is when Niall claps out a loud bout of laughter. The sound feels like
it shakes the air around them.

Apparently, the glass on the windows isn’t that thick because Harry must hear it too. He turns a
little to find Niall, his body so perfect and delicate and softer than just a moment before. And the
heart-wrenchingly wonderful thing is, Louis can see the smile that cracks Harry’s features and the
way he relaxes further when he spots Niall. He literally waves all excitedly and then, as if to let
Louis know exactly where he stands, he points at Niall and makes heart hands. Niall gives Harry
heart hands back, all while ceaselessly spluttering out the loudest, most annoying laughter
imaginable.

Harry doesn’t look at Louis again. He just pulls the curtains closed. The light, that’s just barely
visible at the bottom of the heavy drapes, goes out shortly after.
“Shit. You might be fucked, mate.” Niall says, serious now, as he wipes the residual laughter
enduced tears from under his eyes. “But fuck might I say, that boy is hung.”

“I fooking hate you,” Louis chides, trying to push his friend to the ground.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

And Niall’s right he doesn’t, but he kind of hates himself a little. He’s thinking on that when Niall
stoops down to grab some of the candies from the snow. The colouring gets on his hands and Louis
is just about to ask what he’s doing when he pops them into his mouth.

“Niall, Jesus! We were just throwing those at possible shit on Harry’s window.”

“Mmmmmm, yeah, but you were crap. Didn’t get anywhere close,” Niall mumbles around his full
mouth.

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

Niall just shrugs.

“Best be nice to me. Who else is gonna help you deal with this shite. He loves me. You saw that,
right?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but, yes, he did in fact see that.
 Chapter 22
Chapter Summary

I feel like this whole fic has been ridiculously gluttonous in the best and worst ways
and this chapter maybe most of all! Some things to be aware of for this chapter - drug
and alcohol use, some body/weight shaming (old reference). I feel like it's pretty
consistent with the previous chapters in terms of content and anything triggering. Also
this is the last chapter, but there will be a giant epilogue after this as well. Ok thanks
for sticking it out and I hope you enjoy!

“What time does he leave, again?” Niall had done his absolute best trying to keep the previous
night light-hearted and Harry had definitely helped in a way, even if it wasn't his intent, what with
his whole pouty-naked-non-verbal-tell-off, but now that they are officially almost out of time,
Niall’s full on bricking it.

“I dunno. And I won’t know because he’s not talking to me, is he?” Louis huffs and swings his
head in frustration. His fringe lifts and flops back down comically with the movement.

“Right. Right.” Niall muses. The coarseness of his bitten down nail feels jagged against his tongue
as he runs it along the area he’s just stopped chewing on. The skin on his thumb tastes salty
between his lips. “He’s not texted me back either.”

“It can’t be later than one, I wouldn’t say. Not with checkout times as tight as they are.”

“Ok so we need out of here now then. Listen, I say you sneak away and I’ll cover for you. If
anyone asks I’ll tell ‘em you got a stomach ache.”

Somehow Louis and Niall had landed the breakfast shift. A phenomenon generally unheard of
since they both normally teach lessons during the day. Apparently there just wasn’t anyone else to
do it, with Zayn only fit to work rentals and the gift shop and the people who were let go having
not been replaced yet.

There were a couple beginner lessons scheduled, but Liam was given those, amounting to, on
Harry’s last day, at nearly eleven-thirty, Niall and Louis swapping chafing dishes of eggs, bacon
and sausages instead of, ideally, Louis and Harry swapping spit. The restaurant is practically empty
at this point, the boys doing their side duties and waiting for the last guests to leave.

"He won't talk to me without you. I'll just wait. We're almost finished." Louis doesn't meet Niall's
eyes and maybe that's a good thing because if he did, Niall's sure he'd be able to read the anxiety he
can feel etched on his features.

Harry cannot go home without making up with Louis. It’s unthinkable. And Niall won’t allow it.
He rushes through the kitchen clean-up and lingers in the dining room making a show of clearing
away any odd plate or mug not in use by the one couple left camping at a table by the windows.

He noisily rubs his hands on his legs and kicks at the carpeted floor, letting them see his clear
urgency to leave. The buffet has long been emptied and both guests’ plates are essentially cleared
of food. Niall hasn’t offered them coffee top-ups in ages, so them sitting there in the giant
otherwise empty room feels like some kind of attack and Niall’s not ashamed to make that fact
known.

Eventually, after a bit of grumbling to each other, they take final sips of their presumably very cold
coffees and, pushing out of their chairs, shoot Niall pointed looks as they leave. He smiles as if he
doesn’t notice. It's amusing how two people can express annoyance in completely different ways
and he revels in that as he smothers them in good old Irish sunshine with the biggest smile he has.

He literally follows them to the door, practically skipping behind them, and thrusts it shut with a
loud click of the lock when they’re finally through. Because he’ll get in shit if he doesn’t, he grabs
the dishes from their table and rushes to the dish pit where he drops them haphazardly and calls out
to Louis.

"Let's go!"

Louis already has his jacket on and Niall's in hand. The back kitchen door locks on its own, so once
they’re both outside they immediately break into a run towards Harry's cabin.

The shock of cold as Niall pounds the side of his bare fist on the door doesn’t stop him from
repeatedly thumping on it two more times. He's out of breath and his face feels overheated.

"Their stuff's gone," Louis calls desperately from where he's peeking in the front window.

"We'll catch 'em at checkout."

They're both gassed for the run back, but push to keep their speed up. It's not lost on either what's at
stake here.

“I need to do more cardio,” Niall wheezes, taking up the rear.

Louis’ sinewy legs look like they could go on like this forever, pumping harder as his breath
labours.

“Remind me of this next time I take out a ciggy,” Louis manages to get out in an uneven rasp
between breaths.

Reception is busy when they get there. Guests checking in and out. It takes barely a moment to
realize that Harry and his family aren't in the lines of people by the desk, or congregating with their
bags in the seating areas.

"Parking lot!" Niall drags Louis out before he can say a word. Like the room they just left, the lot
is buzzing with activity. Niall doesn't know the car, but of the people he can see, the one they're
looking for isn't there. Niall would know his giraffe body anywhere.

"They're gone," Louis moans. He'd been putting on a brave face, but now that the unthinkable
seems to have happened any semblance of pulled together evaporates and his anguish is obvious.
He keeps moving though, almost blindly. Niall thinks it's instinct to keep going, keep looking, even
if he’s not actually seeing anything around him.

The crunch of tires on gravel sounds behind them and they both still like rabbits at the noise.
They're blocking the way of Anne's car and Niall can literally feel his heart lift at the sight of her
smiling fondly from behind the wheel. She toots the horn at them like only a mom can with a little
sass and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

It's similar to the day they first saw Harry. He's in the back seat looking embarrassed, from what
Niall can tell anyway, what with Harry's head directed at the floor and all. His roguish curls hang
lazily, obscuring most of his face from view. They’re flowing free where they'd normally be
confined in a bandana. It’s one of the things Niall has kept track of, the way Harry slowly
incorporated loose curls in his daily routine based on the frequency with which Louis
complimented or played with his hair. He takes the lack of said hair accessory as a good sign. After
all, they can use all the good they can get at this point.

The vehicle slows to a stop as Anne rolls her window down.

"Hello, you two. Came to see the kids off?"

Niall can't tell if there's just a touch of something in her expression, a little too much crinkle in the
skin around her left eye, maybe, that says what she currently can't. She must know something
about what's happened with Harry and Louis and Niall senses that she's just as unhappy about them
leaving with it still unresolved as he is.

"Well, of course," Gemma chimes in. "We all know how missable I am."

"Right you are!" Niall gives Gemma a little wink to acknowledge her attempt to lighten the
moment. "And you too, back there."

Harry pokes his head up and gives Niall a subdued half smile.

Everything feels weighed down by unsaid words and the very obvious sense of being out of time,
which increases exponentially as a car pulls up behind Anne's.

Niall can't think of anything else to say. Anne's eyes dart to the rearview mirror as Gemma picks at
her cuticles. Harry's looking up out the window at them now. The corners of his lips are tucked in,
but the rest of his features are stoic.

The sound of Louis breathing is unexpectedly loud. It’s heavier than normal and is in no way
helping Niall focus.

There's a short high-pitched toot from the vehicle behind them, one that doesn't match the size and
formidableness of the hulking black beast. Harry quickly turns his head, glancing emotionlessly at
the driver.

Even Anne looks a little flustered.

"Well I guess we better get on. Come visit us if you're ever on our side of the border. Oh and
Merry Christmas!"

Gemma nods in agreement with Anne. Holding back his own response while looking to Louis with
the expectation that the other lad will want to say something—thank you, Merry Christmas, it was
nice meeting you, what have you—Niall is surprised to find him mute, his eyes locked on Harry.

He clearly has no plans of acknowledging Anne's words, probably wasn't even listening. Instead,
Louis looks as if he's telepathically trying to communicate all his feelings to Harry, who on his part
is doing an excellent job of impersonating a stone wall, eyes averted from Louis, body tense.

"Bye, Harold. ..." Louis finally says, as the driver behind honks their horn again. This time it lasts
longer, annoyance ringing through the clown-like noise.

"See you around," he finishes softly.

Anne reaches out the car window to wave at the vehicle behind her. Before she pulls her arm back
in, she gives Niall and then Louis an affectionate hair ruffle. Niall notices the way she lingers
longer at Louis, a small crease marking the space between her eyebrows.

A third honk has her sighing and with one last wistful look at the boys, then back at Harry, she
says, "alright then."

Niall tugs at Louis, taking this as the sign that it is—to back away from Anne's car. He can hear
Louis make a noise, low and guttural, as he lets himself be tugged to the side.

They don't say anything as both cars drive past. Instead, they just stare at the bumper of the SUV
taking up the rear. Niall wonders if Louis hates it as much as he does. It's covered in stickers. The
kind with stupid sayings on them that normally Niall would chuckle at. His annoyance with the
impatient driver of the large black gas guzzler has shifted to said stickers though and he currently
finds no humour in them at all.

He keeps Louis' jacket clutched in his fist in an effort to provide some comfort and to hold him in
place on the off chance he decides to run after Harry like a dog chasing a car.

It feels like forever that they stand there. Finally Louis turns to him, sinking his face into Niall's
jacket and wrapping his arms around his waist. Niall hugs back relieved. He's better at hugs than
words, if he's honest.

**

It's Louis' birthday. He's been an absolute mess since Harry left and even though Niall and the other
boys have done their best to cheer him up, nothing's worked.

They've been planning a surprise for the day since even before they all met, just after Louis helped
arrange jobs for them actually. It stemmed from Louis' love of twinkle lights. Originally they
wanted to copy the Chelsea Handler topless birthday ski run with the twist of them all wearing
Borat style swimsuits instead, but when they saw this tiktok of a kid wearing a light-up rainbow
cape down the hill, they knew that's what they had to do. Louis is their hero after all.

So they had the cape made. It's glorious really, when fanned out and all a glow with each section
one colour of perfectly symmetrical lights, combining into the most beautiful almost gossamer like
rainbow. The rest of them got light-up pompom hats and twinkle tutus that flash so erratically it's
hard to look at them for an extended period of time.

They're supposed to surprise Louis with it later, but now, with everything how it stands, Niall finds
the idea lackluster. Any time Louis isn't at work is devoted solely to smoking cigarettes and
cuddling in bed with "Harry's" pillow (something that would normally embarrass him to no end,
but in his current state he isn't even bothering to hide). And on top of that, Zayn being incapacitated
means he can't ride with them anymore either.

"Lou, how bout you get out of bed, shower and we all have some breakfast bday cake for your big
day." The extra cheer Niall adds to his voice sounds grating even to him.

Louis just mumbles something indecipherable into his pillow, leaving Niall at his complete wits
end.

"Ok c'mon then. I'll take you to him."

"You'll what?" The bed creaks from the movement of Louis' upper body popping quickly up from
his cocoon.
"You heard me."

"How?"

"We do have a car, you know. So we get in, turn the key… need I go on?"

"Ok, smart arse, we also do have work, or have you forgotten and also it's me birthday and I'm
heartbroken so be nice."

Niall cackles. "I am being nice. I'm taking you to the one thing that even has a chance of making
you happy today."

"And work?"

"We're sick."

"Conveniently on my birthday?"

"Hate to break it to you, but with the look of ya right now, no one's gonna question it."

Louis rolls his eyes, but it doesn't slip Niall's attention that he gets out of bed and starts looking
around the floor, presumably for a pair of pants since he's currently only in his fitted boxers.

**

The car rolls along a fairly busy street as Niall executes one of the last few turns of their drive.
They didn’t leave until mid-day and now it's literally black outside aside from the street lamps,
headlights and the glow from various buildings, stores and restaurants. Niall finds it cozy. After
Louis had gotten them off work by faking sick and saying Niall was even worse off, he had to
shower, have a quick piece of cake with the boys and pack a bag. Niall did the same. He didn't
know how the Christmas shift would go without him or Louis, or if the pair of them would have
somewhere to stay that evening, but it wasn't likely they'd be back to their own beds any time soon.

Gemma had given them the address with a warning that she thought Harry had plans later, but to
come anyway and she would do her best to keep him home. As they roll along an adorable
suburban street, bare of snow, Niall hopes she managed to come through.

"There it is," Niall points as he spots the quaint split-level home. He pulls into the empty driveway.

"You ready?"

"S'pose you should give it a go first. In case he's in a door slamming mood."

"That's fine, but you're coming with."

There's the cutest homemade wreath on the door, adorned with festive bears, bows and holly. As
Niall rings the bell he looks to Louis, points at it and nods, "what are the odds Harry made this?"

"One thousand percent he made it." Niall can't help chuckling at the proud-parent look Louis'
wearing over a homemade holiday wreath.

The door swings open and Niall's laughter continues. This time at his relief of seeing Gemma, hand
on her cocked hip and a sarcastic grin taking over her face.

"I cannot believe customs let you in."

"Course they did. They know a good thing when they see it."

Gemma fake gags in response.

"So uh is Harry here?" Louis pipes in catching both Niall and Gemma's attention.

"Yeah about that… Well, come on in and I'll explain. Niall, did you bring the stuff?"

Niall nods sheepishly, "we kind of packed bags and it's in there."

"Good you're staying tonight. Harry will just have to deal if this doesn't go to plan."

"Plan? Me and plans generally don't end well." Louis kicks at the heel of his shoe as he jumps into
the conversation nervously.

Gemma flips her hair sassily in response, "Yes, LouIS. I am aware, which is why you weren't a part
of devising it."

**

It's a half hour later and Louis can't believe what he's been talked into. He's standing in front of the
mirror in a rainbow cape, (a bloody fantastic rainbow cape) his tightest black jeans and an
oversized tank top.

"Gemma, I don't think this is what was meant by fancy dress," he says, eyeing himself skeptically.

"Speak for yerself. I feel very fancy." Niall pats at his tutu happily.

"All I know is that Harry left here looking absolutely stunning so I am guessing you need to pull
out all the stops, especially since you don't have tickets."

"We need tickets? Love that you kept that little tidbit from me." Louis does, in fact, not love it. He
can just picture them freezing their arses off and looking like idiots while waiting for Harry to
leave the bar, likely on the arm of his ex.

"You want him back?"

Louis nods at Gemma, point already taken.

"Good. Then you'll figure it out. Now come on, your ride turns into a pumpkin at midnight, I'm
afraid." With that Gemma grabs Niall's keys from her dresser where he set them down and shakes
them in the air.

**

"Alright, children. Here we are. Behave yourselves and all that." Gemma pulls up beside a very
busy nightclub. A line of people more like a mob take up a good portion of the street outside it.

"Sure you don't want to come with us?" Louis bites his lip and prays she says yes.

"Not on your life. Best switch those lights on now if you want a chance of getting through that
mess." She thumbs towards the line and Louis questions again internally why he's going along with
any of this.

The thing is he knows why. It's Harry and that thought motivates him to click the button on his
cape and jump out of the car with a flourish. Niall is close behind, limbs flailing goofily as he runs
to keep up. Louis struts right past the line and through a group of girls hounding the doorman to let
them in.

"Hello, love," he states simply, addressing the beefy man with a very full mustache and beanie
rolled above his ears. Niall pops his head on Louis' shoulder.

"Room for two cute fellows looking to have a good time?"

The man grins, clearly laughing behind the alluringly cocky set of his lips. He gives them an
assessing look, eyes landing on Niall.

"And what's your name?"

Niall pops up surprised, smiling huge.

"Me? I'm Niall Horan. And you?"

"Hello, there, Niall. Irish I see. Your friend is lucky that Irish men are my type, especially ones
with bleached-blond hair and kind eyes." The man doesn't give his name, but Niall beams even so
and unconsciously fluffs at his tutu.

Louis rolls his eyes. The lad's gonna have a head too big for the door after this conversation.

"Oi, so, mate, we good to go in?" The bodies of the pack of girls that they'd cut in front of are
warm, making his own clammy nervous energy worse. The movement as they jump up and down
and turn to chatter with each other has Louis swaying back and forth like he's being tossed around
by an angry swell. Twice he's pitched so far forward he's almost face-planted onto the man
currently between him and the opportunity of seeing Harry.

"Fine, Irish," he points at Niall. "You and the sassy Brit can go in, but everyone else stays put." He
says the last bit louder to assert his authority. Louis imagines it must be a right mess keeping all
these drunks in order.

They get a few heckles from the crowd, but other than that there's no major uproar as they squeeze
by the man and through a large black door into the very dimly lit bar. The room is literally
thumping with the vibrations from the song pounding out of the speakers.

Even though it's dark and there are people everywhere, Louis spots Harry almost instantly. It's as
his eyes drag over the space, taking in the fancy Christmas decor that is just barely visible hanging
off chandeliers and wall sconces and the extensive array of fancy dress, from hot Santas to tux's
and ball gowns and then sequined thongs, that he sees the most beautiful creature on the planet.

Harry is clearly blitzed out of his mind. He's wearing the dress Louis bought him and stunning is an
understatement. His long legs curve in the most tender way as he dances on top of a table, eyes
closed, curls falling down his back where his face is tilted toward the ceiling. The blue of the
overhead lights makes his skin glow this odd ethereal way and even from where Louis stands he
can see a sheen of sweat glistening on Harry's neck.

The dress hugs his waist just how Louis wants to—snuggly fitting to all Harry's curves. His hand
itches to be settled in that one specific spot he considered his own for such a short while.

The song is a fast one but Harry is slowly winding and swirling his body to a beat of its own. The
table he's on is full of men, drinking, laughing and making out. Louis shoots them daggers, ready to
pounce if any of them dare to look up Harry's skirt or get closer than they already are.
He shoves Niall's shoulder with possibly too much force from this sudden onslaught of
possessiveness. The other lad had been totally engrossed in his surroundings. Louis points at Harry
without being too obvious. Then pulling Niall close, he loudly speaks right into his ear hoping to
break through the din of the sound system.

"What do we do?"

Niall looks at the table and then back at Louis. "Get us a drink will ya?"

Louis wants to argue, but he can see by the set of Niall's lips that this is not up for discussion. He
turns and heads to the back bar. He can only make it out because a large crowd of people are
congregating there.

It's about the same distance for him as it is for Niall to get to Harry and when Louis turns around,
before he bothers to squish into the busy lineup, he sees that Niall's climbed up on the table and
Harry's arms hang limply around his neck as they sway back and forth. The lights on Niall's skirt
blink viciously as if in a fight with every other light in the building. He's got those sport type
leggings on underneath his tutu and the juxtaposition of him to Harry is so perfect it should be
painted. But that's a thought for another time.

For now Louis takes comfort in the fact Niall's got Harry and none of those cretins can get their
filthy claws on him. At any other time Louis may have judged them less harshly, but the way they
all just sat there letting Harry be so vulnerable like that. So on display where he could be easily
taken advantage of. The way they didn't seem to give a toss about him, aside for as a form of
entertainment, well it doesn't sit right with Louis.

He finally gets close enough to the bar to order. There are two guys to his left that he can't help
eavesdropping on. To be fair, he's pretty sure the blond is Olly. He looks more boyish in person
than in the picture on Harry's phone.

"Who's that with Harry?" The other guy cackles loudly. "Looks like you've got competition." The
music is a little quieter here and Olly's friend is definitely drunk shouting.

Olly barely deigns to look, just shrugs as if he could care less. It makes Louis want to smack the
cocky expression from his face.

"No matter who he's over there with, he'll be mine later. The boy will do anything for me. He's
smitten and so up for it."

"Is that so? Then who's this Louis guy he was whining about until you fed him enough drugs to
shut him up?" Olly's friend sneers in a catty way.

The bartender interrupts asking Louis what he wants to drink. He tries to act normal, not wanting
the bartender or the pair he's listening in on to catch him being a creeper, but he also doesn't want
to miss any of the conversation.

"Two vodka sevens. Doubles, please, mate."

The bartender nods and Louis pulls out his credit card. He's missed whatever Olly responded with
and maybe more. He catches the friend saying, "thought you broke it off, anyway. Wasn't he super
clingy. Told you he loved you after like a second?"

Olly laughs in this gross drunk way, swirling his drink like a smarmy guy from an old time movie
before he takes a long sip.
The bartender sets the two drinks down and Louis shows his card. He's able to listen as he picks a
tip amount and finishes his purchase with tap.

"Well who doesn’t love me? But actually I made that shit up." Olly seems proud to share the
secret. "He actually believed he said it too."

They both cackle.

"He's pretty, but dumb isn't he?" The friend basically blows bubbles into his drink he's so giddy
with this new revelation.

It takes everything in Louis not to pound them both face first into the bar. Instead, he grits his teeth
and holds both glasses with much too firm a grip.

"Caught me cheating. What the fuck else was I supposed to do? You know how I hate to be the
bad guy."

"Hate it, but are so good at it, Ol."

Louis' heard enough. He chugs his entire drink on the way to Harry and Niall. They're still slow
dancing away on the table. The quick flashing of Niall's skirt making their slow movements seem
even slower.

Louis stares down the table of lads as he sets his empty glass aside.

"Move," he commands to one on the end. He must look formidable because the guy gets up, and
thank gawd because Louis is much too short to heave himself up without stepping on the seat first.

He taps Niall's shoulder and hands him his drink when he's finally managed his way up onto the
table. Everything looks so different from this angle. Less busy somehow. Maybe that's what got
Harry up here in the first place.

Niall's movement stirs Harry and he opens his beautiful, currently glassy, green eyes, setting them
on Louis. Like usual it takes Louis' breath away.

"LOOOUUU-EEEEEEE!" Harry croons, instantly unlatching himself from Niall and grabbing onto
Louis like a sucker fish. His hold is so tight it makes Louis' eyes well, not because it hurts of
course, or not in the physical way, anyway.

"Hi, babe. You look so perfect in that dress."

"Mmmmmm thank you," Harry mumbles. "You look like a rainbow. My rainbow."

"That's fitting because you're my sun."

"Son!" Harry belts out a laugh.

"Not this again." Louis fondly rolls his eyes. They're swaying now, Harry's arms around his neck.
He's got himself all squat down, shoulders rounded, to be at Louis' height.

"Oh right. Sunshine. Your sunshine."

"That's right, babe. If you'll have me."

"Loouuu-eee?" It sounds like there's a pout in the way Harry sings his name.
"Yes, doll?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Louis feels like he should say no. Harry is absolutely out of his head, but there's literally nothing
Harry could ask him for now, or probably ever, that he would deny.

"Course you can, love."

Harry snuggles his face over so their noses are touching and then hums as he leans in and presses
his lips to Louis'. They're so soft, his tongue sweet like cocktails. It's a lazy kiss, languid and
wonderful. Louis tightens his grip around Harry's waist, as they turn their heads for a better angle.

Even though he misses kissing Harry like crazy he can't help but think that the visual of them up
there, him in his rainbow cape and Harry an absolute stunner in his black dress, must be a striking
one, even more than Niall and Harry had been. Where Niall and Harry looked like the glamourous
prince and the silly court Jester, Louis thinks he and Harry probably look like superheros, a sexier
version of Batman and Robin.

Harry's Batman of course, but in a better outfit than Batman's ever had. That's one thing Louis is
certain of, that Harry could save the whole bloody world from itself if he tried. But Louis doesn't
care about the world right now. For the time being it's just the two of them, oblivious to everything
going on below in the busy bar, completely untouchable.

That is until Louis feels a tug on his pant leg. He looks down to Niall to see the other lad almost
panic stricken.

"Harry we need to get down now. Can you do that, love?"

"Too tired, Lou."

"I understand. That's ok. You just hang on to me then, ok? Whatever happens, I've got you." It feels
a little melodramatic, but Louis doesn't know what's about to go down and he's not taking any
chances.

Harry doesn't have time to respond because a stern voice from beneath them screams over the
music.

"Harry, what the fuck?"

Louis turns to face the person responsible for the loud words, holding Harry's arms around his neck
as he does so.

"Oi. Olly right? Probably best to talk to me, since I'm the one you should be pissed at."

"Who the fuck are you?"

Niall's reaching out a hand to help Harry down, but Harry won't let go of Louis, which maybe
wasn't Louis' best idea. It's a bit awkward up here and a good portion of the people nearby are
staring at them. Olly's voice can get pretty loud apparently. Luckily Louis knows how to do loud
better than anyone.

"Louis Tomlinson. You might have heard of me."

Olly decides to ignore Louis and calls to Harry instead, "Hazza, come down. I forgive you. Let's go
back to my place."

"No thank you," Harry mumbles as he shakes his head into Louis' shoulder.

"Yeah that's not gonna happen. I'm taking Harry home. See the thing is, is this lad is so smart and
sweet and funny and I love him and there's not a chance in hell I am letting you anywhere near him
unless that's what he wants, when you haven't got him high as a kite, that is."

Louis feels like he's just delivered a full on speech when he's done. With Niall grinning up at him
and Olly doing the exact opposite (while his bar friend cackles happily at the drama), Louis turns
back to Harry. Most of the booth has cleared out now, probably worried if there was a fight Harry
and Louis would come crashing down on them.

"Hey Louis?"

"Yeah, babe?" Louis places his hands under Harry's armpits like he can lift him up that way and
hand him easily to Niall, when he most definitely can't.

"You love me?"

"Mmmm hmmmm." Louis nods, a little embarrassed.

Harry's eyes are all wide and he bites his bottom lip.

"I love you too."

Louis literally couldn't ask for more. He thinks his heart might explode like there's nowhere for the
love to go. And it's sappy as fuck which leaves him totally unsure of himself and what to do in the
moment. If he wasn't here like this, with Harry in this state, he would have much better ideas about
his next move, but as it is, he thinks the safest bet is a tender kiss behind Harry's ear.

Harry shudders happily from the light touch.

"Home?" Louis asks.

"Yes, home. And Lou?"

Louis stops, waiting for the next profound thing Harry will say.

"I think I might be sick."

**

They take Harry to McDonalds after he begs for french fries so much that it becomes unbearable.
Of course Niall doesn't shut up about how they once all agreed that McDonald's dinner is a dream
date and isn't that ironic since Louis and Harry are in love now and this is their reconciliation meal,
of sorts. Niall goes on about it for so long Louis thinks his eyeballs might drop right out of his head
he's rolled them so many times.

Between delicately popping one fry at time into his gargantuan mouth, tongue extended
ridiculously to make even more room, Harry plays with one short fry and one longer one,
pretending they're people. They talk, dance and chat. Louis gets mildly concerned when he puts
them down horizontally, but apparently they're just taking a nap, which is a relief. The whole while
Harry's beautiful, yet clearly tired, dry-sweat slicked face glows.

That is, until his forehead crunches and the telltale line pops up in the spot at the bridge of his
nose.

"Olly never let me get after the club fries, you know."

Louis tilts his head in Harry's direction waiting for more while Niall halts the progress of a chicken
nugget that's on its way to his mouth.

"He saw an old picture where I had like the smallest bit of baby fat. Looked cute to me, but he likes
his guys skinny."

Niall looks like he's going to cry while Harry thoughtfully picks at the fry in his hand.

Louis is at an absolute loss for words. Who the fuck does Olly think he is?

"Well I like you however you want to be."

Harry perks up at this.

"You do?"

"Course, but can you do me a favour?" Louis' words soften as he continues, "Whatever happens
with us" he motions between them, "promise you won't date a guy like that ever again."

Harry nods, eyes wide and then goes back to playing with his fry people. After a while he gets
sleepy and slouches in his chair, head resting on his outstretched arm. Even then he moves his two
favourite fries around the table, albeit at a much slower pace.

By the time Gemma shows up to drive them home, they're all flagging. It's been a long day. Louis
rubs Harry's back for the whole of the car ride while Harry moans into his own knees. Apparently
the motion isn't doing his earlier sick feeling any favours. It's lucky for Olly that he took off. Louis
knows ultimately Harry makes his own decisions, but he wouldn't mind giving Olly a talking to for
whatever he gave Harry that's made him feel this bad.

They must be getting close to the house because Gemma breaks the relative silence they've fallen
into, the only noises for most of the ride are Harry's small groans, the light sound of the radio and
the roll of the tires over wet pavement, to advise, "You'll all stay in my room. It's in the basement.
Got my own washroom in case he throws up. That last thing we need is mum to see him this messy
on Christmas Eve, of all days."

Niall's head pops up from where he's been leaning it against the front seat window.

"I did it! I got you the best birthday present after all."

Louis grins down at Harry's messy curls and his hand circling the boy's large, but slender back.

"I think you did, mate."

"Birthday?" Harry mumbles.

Gemma just grins at Louis in the rearview. He thinks maybe she looks proud, like Louis finally did
the exact right thing.

"But I didn't get you anything." Harry whimpers.

"How about you do your best not to be sick on me and we'll call that me present? Almost better
than Niall's that one is…"
"Almost?" Harry asks and he sounds amusingly childlike. "What'd he get you? I wanna do better."

Niall cackles in the front seat. "I got him you, mate."

Harry just huffs in response and Louis has to hold himself still, body quaking with laughter. Of
course, Harry doesn't see the real meaning of what Niall's said, that all Louis wants is Harry.
Instead, he's clearly annoyed he has no way of topping Niall's gift.

Back at the house they manage to wrangle Harry to the basement in spite of his extra bambi-like
legs. At one point Gemma has to slap her hand over his mouth to muffle the constant gift ideas he
throws in Louis’ direction. Louis would have done it himself if both his hands weren't being used
to hold Harry up. The suggestions were teetering into the smut-zone and Louis wouldn't be able to
look Gemma in the eye in future if Harry had fully gone there.

“Babe,” Louis whispers as Harry bites at Gemma’s hand and she retracts it with a hushed
“ewwwwwwwwww”.

“Isn’t the point of a gift that it’s a surprise. You can’t tell me what it is?”

“Buuuuuut how will I know when it’s better than Niall’s?”

“Well the thing is, it can’t be.”

Harry gets all pouty and stops immediately on the stair they’re on, crossing his arms and going
ramrod straight. The other three nearly topple like dominoes at the sudden change in movement.

Louis gets as close to Harry’s ear as he can. Luckily it’s not that hard because Harry’s head is
downturned.

“Don’t you get it? He brought me here. To you. You’re the gift you can’t beat.”

It takes a second for Harry to work it out. Louis can almost picture his poor alcohol (and whatever
else) soaked brain trying to fire off the right signals and having them fizzle out before the task
completes.

Eventually he gets it, wrapping his arms around Louis like the giant dope that he is and the pair of
them trip down the last two carpeted steps in the most awkward embrace imaginable. Louis holds
his breath not sure if they'll land head or feet first, while Niall and Gemma follow them down as
quickly as they can without making too much noise to hopefully stop the first less favourable
possibility from happening.

Everything ends up ok. They do tumble a little, but Louis is sturdy enough to catch Harry and set
him right.

Gemma's got quite the set-up going on. They're standing in a landing space with plush cream
carpeting that makes Louis want to curl up and sleep right where he is. Otherwise the room is
empty, merely acting as a bit of an entrance for the bathroom that juts off one way and Gemma's
room the other.

"Don't tease me about the embarrassing boyband posters," Gemma warns.

Louis gives her a hurt look. "Never! Love a good boyband meself."

The room is messier than Louis expected. Gemma's suitcase is open and there are clothes strewn
from it onto the floor. Her walls are covered in posters. Not just boybands, but a whole variety of
musical groups and solo artists. Some are new and some definitely aren't.

She's got salt lamps on at least three different pieces of furniture, a desk with a lamp sat on it, that
looks pretty cozy in Louis' opinion and a double bed mattress and box spring directly on the floor.
He wouldn't have picked her for a no bedframe kind of gal. She seems too particular and by the
book for a such a choice, but who is he to judge.

"Try not to touch too much. I'm gonna go sleep in Harry's room. Be ready. We get up early on
Christmas. Oh, and Louis?"

"Mmm?" Louis asks, too tired to make words.

"Happy birthday."

Louis leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, love. See you in the morning."

Niall and Harry are already in bed fully clothed when Louis turns around to sus out the situation.

"So this is how it is and on me birthday," he mutters to himself as he strips to his underwear
shaking his head at Harry and Niall who are currently in some sort of cuddle that's more of a tight
hug, if he's honest. They've even got their legs all entwined together.

Louis would like to grab some waters to set beside the bed but he's not about to go traipsing
through the house at this hour on Christmas Eve.

He also wants to check on Harry just in case but he doesn't really want to wake either of them in the
process.

Eventually he settles on crawling in beside them, after finding a book on Gemma's bookshelf that
sounds interesting enough. She's got another little lamp by her bed and Louis guesses she's also a
late night reader. He flicks all the other lights off but this one, props his back against the wall, legs
tucked under the covers and pretends to read while really watching to make sure Harry's breathing
stays consistent and he's not choking on his own vomit.

Louis doesn't know when he finally fell asleep but when he wakes up, still much too early to be
morning, he squints in the lamp light from the side table. Gemma's book is partially smushed
between his body and the bed. Apparently he dozed off while reading. More surprising than that is
somehow Niall and Harry shifted in the course of a few hours so that they're both clinging to part
of his body. It almost looks like Harry climbed over Niall to wrap himself around Louis’ waist and
Niall got too hot and shuffled to the end of the bed where his arm is loosely hugging Louis’ leg.

Typical

A few hours later, still early, but an acceptable time to start Christmas, Gemma charges into the
room loudly sing-songing the words, “Merry Christmas!”

The boys are in the same position as the last time Louis opened his eyes except now he feels the
awkwardness of knowing Harry is much closer to sober.

What if he doesn’t remember last night?

He can’t still be sleeping, not with the noise Gemma’s making.

“Get up! It’s time for pancakes and presents!”

“Pancakes!” Niall pops up excitedly. He looks to Harry, “What was that all about last night?
Thought you were gonna smother me in my sleep?”

Louis sucks in a breath. So he’s definitely awake.

Harry rubs at his eyes sleepily, making some morning grumbling noises. If the kid could speak
faster just one time, now would be ideal.

“You were hogging Louis. It was my turn.”

Well that’s something.

Harry stretches and happily looks up at Louis. “Morning,” he grins all fresh faced, like he went to
bed at nine PM after an evening of self care when in fact it was quite the opposite.

“Chase you to the kitchen,” Niall jumps out of bed and past Gemma through the door.

“Sorry, Lou.” Harry gives him a mischievous look before he throws the covers off and chases after
Niall.

“He doesn’t even know where your kitchen is!” Louis’ words trail quietly behind Harry even
though it’s only a laughing Gemma left in the room to actually hear them.

“I suppose this is going to be an interesting day.”

“I’d say.”

“My brother will try to give you and Niall his gifts. Don’t ask how I know, but he will. If you can,
choose what I got him. It’s good.” Gemma winks and turns, her brown hair fanning out behind her
with the movement.

It’s a little ironic, or humorous, or both that here Louis is on Christmas day at fucking Harry’s
house after everything that’s happened, about to celebrate the holiday with his family… and Niall.

He heaves the covers off himself, making a promise to message the other boys as much as he can
over the course of the day, so they don’t feel left out. At least they have each other. Liam and Zayn
could use a little alone time he reckons. He feels confident in that as he heads up the stairs,
following the smell of cooking and warm voices that happily drift in the air around him. He thinks
of home and as he gets closer to the source of the Christmas festivities at Harry’s, he types out a
message in his own family group text.

Miss you all. Have lots to tell. Call you in a bit. Merry Christmas! Signed, your favourite child and
sibling ;)

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