Work Text:
They say we live in our minds. He doesn’t always say a lot, but they also say the quietest people have the loudest minds. He sometimes feels like he’s invisible. The secrets surface on his skin in ink, in his diary. Still waters run deep, but these waters are dangerous. There’s no lighthouse in sight, the compass is broken, and he’s steering this thing alone.
(Note: Contrary to this fic, I do think management force Louis into the relationship with Eleanor- though I do think he could be capable of setting such a thing up himself if he was in denial and I just decided to explore that possibility here. :) )
"Nothing will break her denial. It’s stronger than her love. In fact, reinforced by her love."
*****
Tattered diary, held in my shaking hands. Rain is hissing outside. I don’t know how I feel. Broken? Yes. Lost? Perpetually lost, I am. I’m sailing this ship through stormy waters and there’s no lighthouse in sight and the compass is broken. It’s not pointing anywhere. It’s dark, cold, and I’m alone. So alone.
I’ve been flicking the head of the pen up and down for several minutes, stalling. I have to write something, anything. I have to get it out of my system otherwise it will eat me alive. Either I write it now or I reach for something I’ll regret.
Hello journal,
I pause, staring at the words. With a scoff, I decide that won’t do. Why am I talking to it like it’s a person? Of course, it would be nice to feel like someone’s listening, even though that’s crazy talk. This is a bloody journal, the same leather bound book I’m always carrying around, its front cover splattered with thoughts and doodles. I’ve never greeted the diary before. Previous entries consist of just ramblings and random thoughts. Tonight, though… tonight I feel the need to get this off my chest once and for all. This disgusting beast that’s been clutching my heart ever since… that day. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This isn’t something I’ve pinpointed before, and I feel so afraid now that I’m acknowledging it for the first time, pen to paper.
Hello Marina,
Call me crazy for giving my diary a name… why Marina? I don’t know. I think if I had a daughter one day, I’d like her name to be related to the ocean. I’m going to tell you a secret, and you have to promise you’ll keep it. I think…I mean, I know – I know I’m in love with somebody I shouldn’t be in love with. He’s one of my best friends, but I think we both know we’ve never been ‘just friends’. The problem isn’t that he’s a boy and I’m a boy. I don’t care about things like that. I am capable of loving anyone, regardless of their gender. Race, gender, these things have nothing to do with love. Love is equal. I just happened to fall in love with a boy named Louis and he could have easily be a Louise and he’d been the same person, but a Louise instead, you know, I’d be telling you about how in love I am with Louise. But that wouldn’t change anything. Louise would still be Louis, carrying on like I’m nothing. Treating me like I’m invisible. That’s what hurts the most.
The fans call us Larry Stylinson. You know, they mesh our names like Brangelina. I guess we just used to laugh along and encourage it. I never stopped secretly supporting it but Louis started to get mad about it and then he got with Eleanor and suddenly I was nothing to him. Sometimes I feel guilty feeling the way I feel, knowing that he’s got someone else. The fans are convinced that she’s this ‘beard’ and that their relationship is fake. The truth is, as far as I know, management didn’t force him to go out and get a girlfriend. We’ve never been in an official relationship. Louis is right – Larry is bullshit, there’s nothing to say and yet there’s everything to say.
The saddest thing of all is…I’ve read some of the fics before. It’s not like I get off on all the dirty ones. Louis and I did read some together one time and laughed it off, but then… he was quite the whole evening afterwards. He was probably just tired. It’s not like I sit here in my free time reading them. The ones that aren’t graphic, just… the other ones, sometimes they get to me. Like a story where we kiss. Simply just a kiss. I’ve read stories like that because I wish it could happen. I’m longing for something that’s never going to happen. It’s the closest thing I get to kissing him. There’s been times where I’ve felt like we nearly kissed, but maybe it was just my stupid and over-active imagination.
We still live together. People think we don’t, because management wanted the rumours to die down. We still live together, but we may as well not be. Things are so different than they used to be. We used to have fun. I feel like I’ve lost my best friend, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, except fall in love with him. Looking back, I loved him from day one, and he looked at me in a way that made me feel-
“Mate, what are you still doing up?” his voice rings through the kitchen, where I’m sat at the breakfast bench, scribbling away furiously, my hand cramping. My heart falls into the pit of my stomach.
“L-Louis?” I ask, mouth dry.
He hasn’t spoken to me in weeks. Actually, looking back, he hasn’t really spoken to me properly for months. He’d talk to me in front of the cameras, sometimes. But that was our job, we worked together, so that wasn’t the same. And even then, he avoids me at all costs and only talks to me if it’s really necessary. At home, we pass like two ships in the night.
Louis is looking at me curiously, giving me the oddest look, wearing a frown on his tired face, lips twisted. God, he looks so tired these days, so drained. His jaw is sharper, stubble everywhere, and he is consistently losing weight.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Can’t sleep, so…” I swiftly snap my journal shut. Louis stares at it pointedly. My heart skips a beat and begins throbbing at a panicked haste but I know not to be too worried. My old Louis would have swooped in and grabbed my diary, blue eyes shining with mischief. This Louis avoids me like the plague, acting as if he’ll catch something deadly if he even stands beside me. Weird, I think, mind casting back to the days where he’d wrap his arms around me during interviews. The days where he’d crawl into my bed and we’d fall asleep twisted in one another’s embrace. Those days are long gone. What hurts the most is that I don’t know why. What have I done?
“Neither,” he mumbles, walking over to the fridge and reaching for the milk. My eyes burn into him as he pours himself a glass and reaches for the cookie jar, my heart pounding harder now, wild butterflies erupting everywhere. It is now or never. He might not say anything to me for another two weeks if I don’t…
“L-Louis,” I begin, voice even more gravelly than usual, a lump lodged in my throat. I cough it away and start again. “Lou, can I… can I ask you something?”
Louis visibly flinches, his back still facing me. Slowly he turns around to look at me a little warily.
“Hmm?”
Did that non-committal hum count as permission for me to ask him a question? Well, to hell with it. “What’s going on with us? I’d ask if everything is okay with us, but clearly it’s not. Would you like to tell me… what’s wrong?” It takes my every shred of willpower to keep my voice from trembling. And I think I fail a little.
“You do talk some shit, Harry. What are you on about? Everything’s fine. We’re mates, aren’t we?”
“Are we? You tell me. And don’t tell me I’m talking shit,” I snap, voice rising. “You barely talk to me any more!”
His fingers curl around the glass and he raises it to his lips, blue eyes suddenly very icy as he drinks the milk, swallowing it all whole and putting the glass down on the bench with a thud, a very unnerving smile on his face, a smile that doesn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes like it used to.
“We’re friends, Harry,” he decides, softly. “I’m sorry if I’m not giving you my undivided attention. We keep busy schedules, you know that. We work together, it’s not even possible for me to “ignore” you, so I think you’re overreacting somewhat.”
“You only talk to me for work things when you have to! Other than that, I’m fucking invisible. I feel like I’ve done something to… to upset you…” I confess, fighting back tears that are trying to push their way out of my tear ducts.
Something shifts in his carefully expressionless face. It’s only one flicker of emotion, gone a second later, but it was there. It was something. I saw it. What was it? Hatred? Anger? His lip shaking? And then he does something I hadn’t prepared myself for. He tramples on the distance between us and presses himself against my back, sliding his hand onto my shoulder, his mouth brushing my ear.
“How else am I supposed to get over you? This is the only way I know how, genius.”
My spine curls. His breath and his whisper tingle along the length of it, and the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand on end and I think I feel my soul shiver.
“Get…Get over me? Lou, I don’t under-"
“I think you do.”
“Tell me,” I demand, heart pounding so loudly and rapidly I’m momentarily afraid I might be sick soon.
I’ve never seen him cry before but his long eyelashes are wet and I don’t know what to do, how to react, how to comfort him. He’s never put himself in this position before, at least, not openly. He’s always needing to be strong, stronger than he feels. He’s backing away now, shoulders slumping.
“I can’t talk about this with you,” he mumbles, and I feel my jaw tighten. His reluctant gaze finally meets mine and I feel breathless. I’m drowning deeper still. He doesn’t seem to realise or know what he’s done to me. I’ve fallen off the safe harbour and into the turbulent seas and I’m drowning without his love and attention. It might sound selfish, and maybe he’s as lost out at sea as I am. I’m throwing out a line and he’s throwing it back, stubbornly refusing me. I feel the cracks in my heart begin to deepen, the feel of what’s left of my heart now breaking. I’m losing him. I’ve lost him. Is it too late? Am I too late? Did I wait too long?
“DON’T,” I yell, voice scratchy and sore as I rise to my feet. He’s turned away from me, sulking and going back the way he came. My hand curls around the bird on his forearm and I spin him around to face me. Louis tries to jerk out of my hold on him so I grab his upper arms with both hands and tower over him, holding him in place. “Don’t let me go.”
And then I see it. Louis, the boy who used to throw himself at me and laugh and bounce around, always joking around, always trying to make everyone laugh, that boy is crying and skinny and tired. His lip trembles and the tears trickle down his face and I feel his pain like it is my own, a gash in my wounded heart. When I curl my arms around his shoulders, it seems natural, even though we’ve barely spoken in months, let along brushed one another’s skin or chanced a fleeting touch. I hear his breath hitch and the sound tingles through my ear, and then a chocked sob of a noise caught in his throat and he is grasping the back of my shirt, fisting it and pressing his face against my neck wet with his tears. I just rub his back in circles and whisper things in his ear.
“It’s gonna be okay baby,” I breathe, slipping my hand through his hair. I feel him tense at my words and he pulls out of the embrace.
“What did you call me?” he asks with hushed urgency. “You can’t – it hasn’t been like that for… you know. I…I had to let you go, Haz. I…I had no choice.”
“You didn’t have to let me go at the expense of losing me… I feel like we lost our friendship…”
“You don’t…” he pauses, taking a deep breath and closes his eyes, “… you don’t understand. How… after…like, everything we had, you think I can just flick my feelings off like a light switch? Really? And just go back to being best mates, pretending like there was nothing between us, like it meant nothing?”
I decide I’m going to get to the bottom of this. No more talking in riddles and talking around the issue with vague words.
“What we had? Lou, what did we have? We were never anything, right? And it’s like you said. Whatever people thought we had was just “bullshit” right? So what are you even talking about?”
He’s breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, a sudden blaze heating his gaze, drying the tears away.
“Are you stupid?” he asks incredulously. “I just wanted YOUR attention, Harry! I wanted…I wanted you to ch-choose me,” he confesses, voice breaking.
“Lou?” I ask gently, feeling my heart thrash violently behind my ribcage as I stroke his forearm, my fingers tracing the tattooed lines of his broken rope, I let my fingers curl around his wrist before my hand falls into his and I take hold of his hand, slipping my fingers between the spaces in his. There was this charge, this energetic charge between us whenever we got close and the mere act of fusing my hand with his made this mysterious force go haywire, making the hair on my arms stand on end, awakening the butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Hence the placement of my inked butterfly, I thought. “Lou? It’s always been you, babe. Only you.”
Louis refuses to meet my searching gaze. “I was scared you didn’t want to be tied down. The way you acted… Caroline and Nick and Taylor and… I mean, I couldn’t, I just couldn’t do it any more. It’s like… It’s like you love everyone the SAME way, you know? And if… if there was someone who, like, maybe… who maybe loved you or was in love with you, they might… like, they might not feel like they matter, you know? Like they don’t mean anything. Like they’re nothing special.”
The waves are angry, the seas growling and dragging me under. I can’t breathe. I’m sorry, Lou. I’m stupid. I’m defective. I’ve pushed you away. You’ve pinpointed the worst of me, yet I used to think it was the best way to be. Love everyone equally. Except by doing so, I’ve lost you. I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t. I think you’re part of me, like a soul mate, maybe. If I lose you, I lose me.
If only I could tell him that out loud, but I can’t. I can’t say it. Instead I sink to my knees and he remains standing there, looking down at me.
“I never meant to make you feel that way. I always loved you more than anything and any-” but he cuts me off and the happy resolution my hopeful mind is building up is shattering to pieces like the photo of us in my drawer, lying broken in its bed of glass.
“Funny way of showing it, Styles,” he says, softly at first. Something in the energy between us has changed. I can feel it. The urge to cry is strong and when he starts speaking again, something in his voice is different, as if he’s talking to a lost cause, one he hasn’t even got the energy to attempt fixing. Aren’t we worth saving? This unspoken thing between us has driven me crazy every single day that I’ve known him. Never knowing where we stand. Feeling like he belongs to you but he doesn’t, he never did. “Just…Just leave it alone. Leave me alone,” he sighs, that tired tone. He’s over it. Over me and through with us. How do you break up with someone you were never with, I wonder.
And so I say it before even calculating it in my mind. My heart just bursts with the truth.
“But I love you. I love you. I always have.”
I can’t tell what his eyes are saying but something heavy is ticking inside his brain. “And I love Eleanor,” he finishes without even blinking, voice sharp. I can’t bear to look at him now, afraid to be met with the conviction of his love for her. Eyes fluttering shut, it’s the worst pain I think I’ve ever endured, and the tears gather behind my closed lids, burning my eyes. I feel him leave me there, feel as his energy dissipates, his scent disappearing. All I can hear is the thrashing of my heart behind its cage, the angered pulse pounding through my heart, my wrists, and my eardrums. My battered heart is all I can hear.
What a disgusting mess I am, I realise. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here crying on the floor but there’s now snot dripping from my nose and the sticky tears have dried on my face. I reach for my phone in my pocket. It’s nearly five in the morning. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I don’t think I’ve cried so hard in all my life. One thing is for certain. I can’t stay here. There is no way I can stay here. I’ll have to find a new place soon, but for the meantime I’ll crash at one of the lad’s places. With that in mind, I reach for my phone and call Zayn, knowing he won’t answer a text. He’s a deep sleeper and he probably won’t answer his phone either, but it’s worth a shot.
I’m just about to hang up and try Liam when suddenly I’m met with Zayn’s groggy voice.
“What?” he mumbles.
“Zayn?” I ask, voice thick. “It’s Harry. I’m sorry to wake you up. I’m sorry for calling. I’m really sorry, it’s just… um…”
“H? Are you crying? Harry, what’s going on?” he asks, tone still sleepy but concern evident in his voice. “Stop apologising, you’re okay.”
“L-Lo- Louis,” I stutter, a fresh sob hiccuping at my breath, new tears leaking from my eyes. “C-Can I stay with you? I…I can’t be here. I can’t be here when he gets up.”
“Of course you can stay babes. As long as you need. You reckon you okay to drive? I can get you?”
“T-Thanks man. I can drive. You’re not that far from us.”
“Okay buddy, see you soon yeah?”
“Yup.” I answer, hanging up the phone and quietly slipping into my bedroom to pack my carry bag lightly, throwing in piles of clothes and reaching for my laptop and charger, stuffing them into the bag and zipping it up. I hitch it over my shoulder and grab my keys off the bedside table, leaving the house in darkness as I exit and lock the door behind me. I sniff back the moisture still built up in my sinuses and swallow the salty tang of my tears, slipping into the lift.
The city is asleep, though there is the odd drunk stumbling through the streets, a few police cars doing the rounds as I move onwards to Zayn’s and the gates part for me as I stab the code in. His curtain upstairs flickers and I see him standing there waving as I park on the driveway and leap out of the car and by the time I make it to his doorstep, he’s already there, opening the door for me. His hair is all spiky and standing up at all ends and he’s got pyjama pants on but no shirt. I drop my bag and throw myself at him. Zayn just holds me and cups my head with his hand, rubs my back soothingly with his other hand.
“You’ll be okay babes. You’ll be okay,” he whispers, leading me inside. He reaches for my nearly forgotten bag as I wipe my eyes and I follow him upstairs, Louis’ voice echoing in my mind all the while. “Leave me alone.”
“You can sleep with me, if you want,” he says and I nod. All of us boys feel more comfortable this way. We slept this way in the early days, sharing beds at one another’s houses and at the X Factor house. The way we were all drawn to each other just seemed natural. It didn’t matter that we were, at first, perfect strangers. I felt like I already knew Louis from the moment we were thrown together, and it didn’t take long for me to bond with the other boys. It felt more like reuniting with people you once knew in a past life.
Zayn crawls back into bed and shuffles over to the other side, opening the duvet up and I slip in, comforted by the fact that I’m not as alone as I was. I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.
***
If the new normal is Louis and I avoiding each other at all costs, then everything has gone back to normal. We’re back on the road again. I catch the boys exchanging worried glances sometimes. I’m sure Zayn has told him what he suspects, though I never told Zayn anything.
There’s not time to think about that now when you’re on stage with thousands upon thousands of screaming girls catching your every reaction on camera. I have to put it aside, sweep it away, and bury it. I think I manage to hide it well, at least, up until this point. It’s magic, the dark arena lit up with the fans waving their little lights, every colour of the rainbow.
“Said I’d never leave her, ‘cause her hands fit like my t-shirt,
Tongue-tied over three words, cursed,”
Tongue-tied over three words.
“But I love you. I love you. I always have.” I love you. And you’ll never say it back, you’ll never love me the same, will you?
Niall’s singing. I look down through the sea of blue lights. Louis is being a dork next to him, like usual.
“…hole in the middle of my heart like a polo,
And it’s no joke to me,
So can we do it all over again?”
And suddenly I’m thinking of that first moment. He’s leaping onto me like he’s known me forever and I wrap my arms around him, picking him up as everyone cheers. I walk away with him still in my arms, still carrying him. I know him from somewhere, though I don’t know him. We’ve been the same places, seen the same things. Something inside me remembers him from somewhere.
The images change – we’re all singing, together. My heart sings alongside my voice, aches alongside my voice, a perfect mirror.
“If you’re pretending from the start like this,
With a tight grip, then my kiss,
Can mend your broken heart,
I might miss everything you said to me…”
The fans sing along. My mind drifts back to Leeds. It’s just us again. Make it stop. I Can’t Change. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you. I know I shouldn’t. They’ll tell us we’re wrong. They won’t let us. They’ll punish us for this. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. Please forgive me. I’m sorry.
And I can lend you broken parts,
That might fit like this,
And I will give you all my heart…
So we can start it all over again,”
I could swear he’s looking at me across the distance from where he is sat with Niall. It’s only a flicker of a moment, and I know it means nothing to him. Why does it mean everything to me?
I’m singing now and it hurts inside and it’s never hurt this badly.
'“And I love Eleanor.”'
I hope she makes you happy, then. Somewhere inside, somewhere deep inside past my anger and hurt and beneath my own broken pieces that I’m scared nobody will be able to put back together, I hope you will be happy together.
“Can we take the same road, two days in the same clothes?
And I know just what he’ll say if I can make all this pain go,
Can we stop this for a minute?
You know, I can tell that your heart isn’t in it or with it,” and I’m crying. I’m sorry. I want you to be happy with whatever you choose but I can’t force myself to be happy for you, Lou. I can’t. I know your heart isn’t in it…
He follows behind me. This part has always been our part. I just never meant to cry in front of everyone. Zayn’s looking up at me with that concerned face as I wipe my nose and look away, and I’m so stupid, so besotted, as my eyes find him.
“Tell me with your mind, body and spirit
I can make your tears fall down like the showers that are British
Whether we’re together or apart,
We can both remove the masks and admit we regret it from the start,”
And Zayn’s nudging me, pointing to the big screen where it’s zooming up on Louis as he sings.
“What?” I hiss, confused.
“Look!” he urges. “Look at him.”
And I look. Against my will, I stare into his soul and feel my stomach do a somersault. My destroyed and crippled heart twinges. Maybe there’s life left in my lifeline yet and it feels like it rises just a fraction, rising with what feels like hope in my chest.
***
We’re always high on adrenalin after a show and Louis is usually the worst, driving Paul around the bend, of course. The band on the stage continue to jam for a bit after the show ends as we strip off our sweaty shirts. Liam, Niall and Zayn are running around shirtless, howling like idiots. I’d usually be with them, throwing Niall into a trolley while Zayn tips Liam in another and we’d have a trolley race, or we’d be practising our horrendous dance moves and falling about each other and dying of laughter. I don’t have the inclination to join in their games tonight. The band is still going on the stage, drums and guitar sounding through the stadium and backstage.
I’m about to enter the loo when I hear a horrible noise that freezes me to the spot, a strangled kind of sob. My hand has already gripped the door handle and moved it and suddenly there’s silence. The handle squeaks as I release it and step back and now all I can hear is loud water gushing at full from the faucets.
I rush away and bump into Niall who’s cackling like a hyena while Zayn does his thrust dance and Liam shuffles back and forth with that bloody bandanna in his back pocket.
“Harry, watch where yer going,” he giggles. “Hey, you seen Lou about?”
Zayn stops ‘dancing’ and everyone goes quite. Even Liam quits shuffling around and straightens up, the air around us thick with awkward silence and I wonder how much they already know.
“Nope. Dunno where he is, sorry.”
***
Nights like this alone in the hotels can be lonely. I can’t sleep, heart still wound up from the show, all the things he said still running through my mind. It’s balmy and warm tonight and I kick the sticky sheets and duvet off, tossing and turning as I try and get comfortable. My eyes are closed. I try and clear my mind, but he’s all I see. Leave him alone. He loves her, and he most definitely does not love you, so why are you torturing yourself? I tell myself this, but he’s the one who won’t go away, he’s the one who won’t leave the corners of my mind, the memories keeping me awake.
“Triangle, triangle, triangle,” he’s singing and I can’t help but to look his way fondly. We’re recording video diaries. He’s sat with me now on the bottom step, the boys behind us and he’s got this black scarf wrapped around his head, tilting closer to me. The scarf is falling away a bit, revealing an eye. He leans in and whispers and the shiver runs down my spine. It feels foreign but not unpleasant. I feel curious, wondering what it all means. He secures the scarf tightly around his face again and places a palm up. The smile tugs at my mouth as I press my palm against Lou’s and though he can’t see me, he smiles back.
“Haz?” a voice squeaks and I sit upright in bed feeling my heart jump into my throat. It’s dark, but I can see his outline as he comes closer. I reach out for the lamp but draw my hand back. I didn’t even hear him come in and I don’t know what to think. Why is he here? He told me to leave him alone.
“Lou?”
“Can…Can I get in?”
I’m speechless. I never thought I’d hear such a question leave his lips. It used to be natural for us to share hotel suits and sleep together, tangled so close and sharing but one pillow. It was normal for us until one day it wasn’t. No explanation, nothing. He’d just starting having his own hotel rooms and that was when I suddenly didn’t exist.
“Y-Yeah. Course,” I manage to get out and move over, making room for him. I feel him descend on the bed. I’ve kicked the blankets and sheets off so there’s nothing to cover us, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He seems to shuffle closer until I can feel his hitching breath on my face.
“I miss us,” he suddenly confesses to the night, to my ears, and part of my heart soars again with that feeling of hope and nostalgia for us swimming in my veins, but I know in the morning he won’t be here when I wake up and it’ll be like he never was here. I guess there is safety in darkness, though. I can’t see him. He can’t see me.
“Me too,” I answer. “Every day.”
Louis shuffles an inch closer and then another inch closer until he’s brushing against me and I feel my heart pound everywhere.
“I’m sorry, Haz. I’m sorry for everything.”
I shrug. “S’okay.”
“It’s not okay.”
“I’m sorry, you’re sorry. It’s not okay. We both caused this. It’s not your fault, Lou. It’s our fault.”
He sighs. “I just miss how easy it used to be? I miss this. I miss you. I pushed you away. I know I did. It is my fault. You tried… You tried to fix things that night and I just…”
“You told me to leave you alone so I did.” I say, remembering vividly.
That old electrical charge between us was there again – it had been there since the moment he’d snuck into my room. I could feel it, pulsating from him to me. I felt like I’d never be complete if I didn’t bind myself to him, fuse my body and my soul to his. I can feel him trembling beside me. He feels it too.
Leaning over him, I brush my lips to his ear, whispering, “I need you to say it.”
“I can’t, I…”
“Don’t you feel it?”
“I… I can’t. I mean, I do, but…we can’t… we…h-how do we go back to what we were if…” he trails off, confused.
“And if we don’t, Lou, if we never go there together, we’re going to stay stagnant. Or worse, we’re going to drown.”
“Okay,” he answers, softly. I wait for it, and he stays silent for several long moments, his breath shaky. I reach over and soothe him, brushing my fingers along his bare arms. He’s even closer now, bare chest pressed against mine. Our thundering hearts, fused together, pound heavily in synch.
“I love you too,” he whispers. My heart stops for a second, skips a beat and then bursts inside me. “I love you.” Louis says it again.
“W-Why-” I begin, coughing away the lump in my throat, pulse also lodged there and throbbing madly, “- why the change of heart?”
“I never didn’t, Haz. I always did. I was…scared. I was being a coward.”
“Can…Can I kiss you, then?” I wonder, biting my lower lip.
“Okay,” Louis answers, a little hesitantly.
My mouth is already tingling with anticipation. What if it’s horrible, my mind questions. What if it’s awkward? And it’s like Lou said. Once we go here, how do we ever go back? But I don’t want to go back. We’ve been miserable. This is all I’ve ever wanted, and I discard all other nagging thoughts as I embrace him in my arms and lightly brush my mouth against his. Our hearts sort of stammer together as we lean into the kiss, accepting it, facing it, feeling it, his soft lips moving against mine and I think I could have died, I think this could be Heaven. I want to cry and laugh at the same time and I can’t decide which emotion will win. His smaller hands are in my hair, tugging the curls and kissing me deeper, lips parting. He makes a noise that sounds a little like a content kitten and I chuckle as we break apart, my forehead tilted to his as we part.
“Nice?” I question.
“Nice,” he echoes, perking up a bit. “Well done, Hazza. You didn’t bang my nose or fuck it up in any way whatsoever.”
I laugh and shove his shoulder. “Excuse me, I can kiss, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you’ve had lots of practice with your legions of lovers,” he says sarcastically.
“Sure you’ve had lots of practice with your darling Eleanor.”
A frosty silence encases us.
“Fuck you, Harry. Don’t even… Don’t go there, okay?”
“Why not? She’s your girlfriend. You love her,” I tell him with a conversational tone, silently wishing he will disagree.
“Right,” he answers, tense in my arms.
“Do you love me more than you love her?” I venture.
“Look, it’s not that simple!”
“What’s not simple about it?” I growl. “You told me you wanted me to choose you. It was always you, Lou. There was no choice. I didn’t choose to… you know, feel this way about you. I just did. There was never anybody else. Never. So if you can’t choose me over her, then I think you should just leave.” I can’t even believe I just said that, but in the dark, my morbid tone spills the words out and they hang there harshly.
Louis chooses not to answer, rather presses his mouth to mine and a jolt runs down my spine and as much as I want to kiss him and mark him and claim him, I can’t. I can’t if he isn’t mine.
“No. Just…Just say it, Lou. Tell me.”
“I only love you, you fucking idiot,” he gasps and I think he’s crying again and once more I don’t know what to do with that. I’ve never known him to cry, but this marks the third time I’ve witnessed his tears.
I don’t know how it happens, how we end up twisted together like two coiling snakes or how he ends up on top of me, our kisses becoming violent. The feel of his tongue against mine sends heat spilling to my gut and my dick twitches with interest as I rub my tongue against his. He has been crying because when we break apart with gasps, he presses his cheek to mine and I feel the wet tears on his face bleed into my skin. I flip him over, my mouth finding his neck and the tip of my tongue swirling around in circles around his pulse and I’m marking my territory while grinding into him, bruising his neck with bites.
It’s bliss and it’s torture, twisting and squirming against one another like this, looking for relief, the very tension from all of these years, unresolved and growing desperately in my veins and I can’t handle it. It’s as if we’re but animals now, beasts who’ve been released from cages. Hips aligned, we buck, and I know I’m already leaking, my cock trapped. I need…
His movements are a little cautious but he wriggles out from beneath my near choke-hold somehow and I can feel him trembling as he rips my pants off, grabbing my dick through the straining briefs. I just want him to take them off and suck my cock. Please. I don’t care if you ignore me tomorrow, I just want to remember this and know that this happened. He might have read my mind, his fingers slipping between the waistband of my briefs, sliding them down. We don’t talk. No words are exchanged, only hitching breaths and low moans as he skirts around it and kisses exactly where my butterfly is, and next my hip, and my navel. My stomach flips under the soft touch of his lips and then he’s got me in his warm fist, guiding it between his lips, letting the tip of his tongue dart out to lap at the slit before taking my dick fully between his lips. I’m engulfed by the wet warmth of his mouth, his tongue, the tightness as I slide down his throat, the feel of him gagging on me. I probably sound like I’m injured and in pain, my hands pulling at his hair and my hips jerking into his mouth. I feel conflicted. I think I’d like to see the way he looks sucking on my cock but for now the darkness acts as our safety net.
His breath is humming against my dick and he lets out a little moan as if he’s somehow getting off on sucking my cock and that makes a fresh wave of heat crash through my navel and he reaches for my hand, holding it tightly. The fever rushes through me, my cheeks are flushed, and my heart drumming like a Congo beat. I’m talking now, talking to him in delirious waves of nonsense and agony as my whole body tightens and my toes curl, my cum spilling into his sweet mouth. I sigh contently as I come down from the high and I vaguely hear him whisper something, asking in unsure tones whether that was okay or not. I laugh at him and pull him against me, planning to return the favour, needing him to moan my name like it’s the only word he knows or remembers.
***
I lied when I said I wouldn’t care if he ignored me tomorrow. I wake up wondering if it was all just a dream. The sheets next to me where he was are wrinkled and warm, but he’s not here. I can smell us, fragrances and sweat and sex intertwined and my stomach does another queasy somersault. It happened, I know it did, because I can remember every single detail of how we moved together in the dark, blanketed by the darkness. Rising to my feet I stretch and open the curtains, letting the sunlight in, when a camera flashes my way and I remember I’m totally naked. A smirk tugs at my lips. See if I care. I turn around and find some track pants, pulling them up, I walk out of the suite and debate whether I should go to Lou’s room or not. Probably not. He would have stayed if last night had really meant anything at all to him, right?
I can hear Niall and Liam’s voices coming from Liam’s suite so I go there, knocking on his door. Liam opens the door and welcomes me in.
“Morning!” he chirps. “Wanna come shoot some hoops? Niall and I thought we might head down for a game, and maybe a swim after?”
“Okay,” I answer, and I hang back waiting for them to get themselves ready when Niall looks me up and down after putting his sneakers on.
“Mate, you look like shit,” he says, blunt as ever. I smile broadly and shrug.
“Hey, the paps already took a picture of me completely nude.”
“Harry, Katie’s gonna kick your arse for that,” Liam warns.
“What?!” I ask, grinning. “It’s not like I knew they were gonna be hanging outside my bedroom window.”
So we head down to the swimming and sports arena downstairs and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach. Zayn and Louis are there in the spa, sipping on tropical drinks and laughing.
“Earth to Harry!” Liam shouts, throwing the basketball my way and I turn around to catch it and dribble with it until arriving at the hoop, I jump up and throw it in.
Niall high fives me and picks up the ball, throwing it in and missing the hoop, earning a taunt from Liam.
We keep chucking some hoops for a while until Niall gives up, brooding since he hasn’t gotten any goals. He leaps into the pool off the diving board fully clothed and Liam approaches Louis and Zayn at the spa. I hang back, not sure where to go.
“Harry babes, get in!” Zayn calls over.
“I haven’t got my swimmers!”
“You, Mr Nudist worried about having no swimmers?” Liam asks. “He let the paps take a picture of him totally naked this morning, not that that surprises me… this is the man who travels in planes naked when it gets too warm…” Liam laughs, shaking his head. I hoped it wouldn’t be like this, but it’s like Louis doesn’t see me. He looks the other way and throws back his drink.
“I’d rather you get your swimmers actually mate,” Zayn cuts in. “’Cause if you get in here starker’s I’m getting out.”
“Okay, okay, we’re going. Coming Liam?” I ask and he nods to the affirmative. We turn to leave to get our swimmers but as we do, Louis gets out of the spa and strolls inside at a quick pace, ignoring us.
“Everything okay with him?” Liam asks as we walk behind him, but he’s long gone now, his wet footprints in the foyer.
I shrug and say nothing. What can I say?
“Harry…” Liam sighs as we walk into his suite and he rummages around for his swimmers, “You know you can talk to me, yeah? I’m here if you…like, need to talk…about…things.”
Liam’s big puppy dog eyes look straight at me and I suppose he knows, he’s always known.
“Yep. Appreciate it. I’m fine.”
Liam shoots me a doubtful look but doesn’t question me. “Okay, Harry. It’s just, you don’t have to keep this all inside and have it overwhelm you. I’m here to talk whenever you’re ready,” he tells me and I nod but say nothing further as we go to my room next and get my swimmers.
***
It’s been a long tour around the world again and now we’re home for the holidays. It’s like that night never happened. I always knew it would go that way, if we ever acted on that which we ignored, that mysterious electrical charge that seemed to ignite whenever he was near me. We were once again two ships passing in the night.
I am invisible. I am a ghost. I don’t exist. He says he loves me, but he doesn’t see me, doesn’t even look at me.
So I’m lying in bed, alone. It’s three in the morning and I’m awake, yet again. We flew into London today. It’s the first time we’ve been home in so long and I should be exhausted. I’m going to mum’s tomorrow. Maybe I’ll sleep then. I shuffle out of bed and wander into the lounge, supposing that Louis is sleeping like a baby, when something catches my eye. It’s my diary – still there on the breakfast bench table top where I left it. It all comes crashing back. Me on my knees, begging Louis. Crying. He turns and leaves, leaves me alone. I go to Zayn’s, I don’t come back. We leave for the tour.
Swooping the journal up, I stare at some of the things I’ve scribbled across its leather bound surface.
“One and Only.”
“Please.”
My lungs feel sore, as if the very air around me is difficult to breathe in as I open the book at my last entry, eyes drinking it in.
We still live together. People think we don’t, because management wanted the rumours to die down. We still live together, but we may as well not be. Things are so different than they used to be. We used to have fun. I feel like I’ve lost my best friend, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, except fall in love with him. Looking back, I loved him from day one, and he looked at me in a way that made me feel-
My heart is positively galloping. Someone else’s handwriting has filled the rest in, right where I left it, not even leaving a paragraph between, not even a single gap. The passage continues on and I read it as if everything in the world depends on it.
- Invincible and strong…the way he looked at me made me feel strong. The way he laughed at every stupid thing I did to try and make him laugh. He looked at me like I was the only person in the room, in the world. I was scared of how strongly in love with him I was. Nobody would understand. And if they did understand, how would management ever let us? Image is all, to them. Harry accepted me because he accepted everyone, the only problem was, I never did accept myself. How could I love a boy this way? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I tried to make myself not love you, but I didn’t know how. I loved everything about you. I loved the way you could tell the craziest story in that morbid voice. You could tell me you’d been abducted by aliens and saw another world where pixies and fairies are real and it would be in that stupid sexy low voice of yours. Your stupid goofy smile. Your stupid curls. Your stupid tattoos. I wanted you but I guess I loved you selfishly. I wanted you to myself. I didn’t want to share you with everyone else. I hated that you loved everyone equally. It’s very diplomatic and charming of you love, but I hate you for it. I wanted you for myself, and I knew that would never happen. So I let you go. I let you go and moved on, because if I didn’t, I’d drown. Can you not understand that? I always will love you. I just have to let you go. You deserve to be free and not tied to any one person or thing. I’m pathetic – tragic. I fell for you because you’re free, but I suppose I wanted to lock you up and keep you in a cage, but you’re a bird, Styles. Free as a bird like the swallows on your chest, and nobody can tie you down, not even me.
‘Drifting, weightless,
Waves try to break it
I’d do anything to save it,
Why is it so hard to say it?’
Maybe in another lifetime.