Could you be any louder?

by sincewerealone

Summary:

AU where Louis lives with his annoyingly loud roommate Harry, who keeps him up at night.

Notes:

Hi dearest,

Thank you so much for reading this!
Please feel free to contact me with opinions or suggestions for my story on my twitter @woremyheartout!

This same story is also on Wattpad under the name Could you be any louder? By Jane_maria. (Both written by me + copyrighted by me.)

For now, off to my story! Love ya!

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

As soon as he pushes the door handle down and opens the front door—just the tiniest bit—Louis can already hear the music thumping throughout the whole place.

"Oh for fucks sake." Louis slightly groans to himself as he closes the door behind him. Today is just another addition to the—now innumerable—times that he's come home to this exact scenario.

His roommate may be the one who lived here earlier, but that doesn't mean that he can do whatever he want without taking his roommates joy of living here into account.

And that joy is going fast down the drain. Very very fast.

Especially today when he called in sick for the last few hours of work, something he never does unless he's feeling really bad.
And today he is. He hates being alive today.

He's also completely drenched from walking home. The cold wind was literally taunting his body together with the rain. Perfect combination, to ruin his day even more.

He throws his wet jacket over one of the chairs in the kitchen, before he makes his way to the counter. He quickly fills up the kettle and presses the button on it.
He repeatedly drums his fingertips on the countertop as he waits for the water to boil.

He's deadly cold and his temples throb.

Louis then examines his fingers, dirt covering his fingernails and a bit of dried mud makes his finger tattoos look off. He definitely has to take a shower, but he feels like he might pass away in the shower right now. The only thing he wants is to get into bed with a load of blankets.

His head is pounding, almost to the beat of the song thats playing right now. A migraine is starting behind his eyes and he wants nothing more than complete darkness and complete silence. But that's probably a little bit too much to ask around here.

Louis is usually not the type of person to complain a lot—okay yes he is—but not about his roommate or anything. He's just really, really fed up with this situation right now.

It's not even the fact that he's blasting music, because Louis loves music and would love to blast music too. On a day that he doesn't feel this bad. And maybe not every mother fucking second of the day.

Its more about the fact that this guys music taste is bad, like bad. Literally he's been blasting fucking Justin Bieber for a fucking week straight now.

Fucking Justin Bieber. He didn't know he lived with a 13 year old teenage girl.

A week ago it was fucking Adele or something else of that sort. He's got no fucking taste.

But the worst part is that he most certainly does not give a fuck about Louis' complaints. Or rather, he straight up ignores Louis texts.

He will religiously play his music until like 2am because apparently he doesn't have an early starting job.

But Louis does. Louis has to get up at 6am because his work in construction starts no earlier than 7am.

And when Louis gets back from work, he's more than dead, he will literally eat, shower and then watch any series until he's asleep.
Or at least, thats what he used to do, until his roommate started his binge listening to certain albums until at least 2am. With a few exceptions there, for example until 4am.. Lovely change.

A maximum of 5 hours of sleep every night for a few months straight now, hasn't been the best for Louis. He's dead tired everyday, he feels like his work is almost becoming too much— while he used to love it. And most importantly, his patience runs thin. Especially when it comes to his roommate.

When Louis signed the lease with the landlord, without seeing his roommate, he knew this could come back and bite him in the ass but he desperately needed a place to live—after his old landlord had kicked him out. (Not because Louis did something wrong but because apparently there were people willing to pay more. Even more than the excessive amount Louis was already paying..)

The worst part about it was that his roommate didn't look too bad in the beginning, they just never saw each other. They didn't work the same hours and both almost never used the shared spaces—like the living room and the kitchen—at the same time.

And to be honest, the place is perfect. Its in quite a private area, but still close to the life in the city. He also has lot more space here for a much more reasonable amount of rent.

The second Louis hears the kettle click, he grabs it and pours himself a cup. He can't wait to get into his bedroom, ironic, because as if that would help against all this.

Louis just wants to completely make sure he doesn't run into his roommate, as he's not sure if he'll be able to contain himself today. He's so over him, its been eating him up since the day it started but its soon becoming too much.

He does wonder though, what triggered the guy to start blasting his music like that. Especially certain songs he's been having on repeat would worry Louis a little, if he actually gave a fuck about him.

He's never quite been the confrontational guy, and more than once that eventually led to having him end up exploding. And he's on the verge of that point right now, literally biting his cheek to prevent himself from screaming.

He's shooting daggers at the door leading to his roommates bedroom, as he finishes up making his tea.

And of course—as if he summoned the devil—the door suddenly opens and a half naked guy steps out, only wearing shorts. The music instantly getting more intense. Great, a run-in with his lovely roommate, as if today couldn't get any better.

"Oh hey," The guy smiles, even though he seems a little confused to find him there at this time. "Louis, isn't it?"

"Fuck off." Louis wants to bite his tongue off the second he says it. But it's not like he didn't mean it.

The guy raises his dark brows above the rim of his glasses, clearly taking no offense in his words as he lets his fingers run through his dark curly hair. "You good mate?"

Louis scoffs, "I'm perfectly fine. If it wasn't for you acting like you live here motherfucking alone." He shrugs before making his way towards his own room, but can't resist the urge to spit out at him. "Way to go bud."

He slams the door shut behind him, though he doubts the guy would've even noticed.
The hot tea in his cup waves around dangerously as Louis angrily makes his way towards the seat in the corner of his room. And as if it couldn't resist the motion anymore, right as he decides on settling the cup down, a splash of the hot beverage touches his hand.

"Fuck", he hisses, seeing his hand turn red immediately. For fucks sake, what if this was his actual last straw though? Like Louis can imagine this pushing him over that edge.

Letting out an extremely dramatic sigh, he makes his way back into the kitchen to go rinse the burn a little.

Oh fantastic, the guy is still there! Amazing, lucky him.

He ignores the guy as he runs his hand underneath the tap. He once heard lukewarm would be best so he fiddles a bit with the tap itself.

"You okay mate?" A deep voice calls out—barely even noticeable over the music—making Louis' neck nearly snap in half as he looks at the origin of it, the guy standing close behind him now, peering over Louis' shoulder. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Louis rolls his eyes, slapping the tap handle down. He slowly turns around, only to find the guy looking at him with something that looks like worry.
"When?"

The guy confusedly shrugs, rubbing his neck as he backs away a little. "I don't know, maybe when you were in your room?"

"No, when did I motherfucking ask for your interference." Louis bites back, grabbing a block of butter out of the refrigerator. Yeah, he knows, butter probably doesn't even work but who cares, it hurts now.

"Wow," The guy replies, "I- Wow, okay I only wanted to help you."

This really is the last drop for Louis.

He slams the refrigerator door shut again and turns around, facing the dark-haired guy.
"You want to help me?" He barks out a cynic laugh, eyeing the guy's brows knit in confusion. "Damn. Well, that's crazy.."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think you have that sense of empathy. You haven't done anything to show me you have any feeling for anyone around you at all, to be honest." Louis spits, not even having the energy for this but he needs to get it out of his system now. "You're fucking selfish."

The guy raises his brows, clearly taking offense in what Louis had said. "What the fuck are you even talking about? You don't even know me, at all, like do you even remember my name?"

"Why the fuck would I care about your name?" Louis scoffs, making his way to his room. "Get your head out of the gutter."

Closing the door behind him, he immediately locks it. Some sort of last try to drain at least some of the music out.

The most infuriating thing about the music is that it's everywhere, its in the kitchen, its in Louis' bedroom and of course also in his bathroom.
Usually Louis really enjoys showering but today its just not it. Everything thats been happening is working on his nerves, his migraine only getting heavier and heavier with the minute.

So, as soon as he gets out of the shower he puts on his joggers and some loose tee he found in his clean laundry basket the other day.

Louis silently makes his way through his room, to close his curtains. The lack of light immediately softening his squint.

He doesn't bother to pick up any of the clothes spread around on the floor, thats something for another day. Definitely not a day anytime soon.

Letting his body sink into his mattress, he tries to relax and zone out from the pounding music. But of course, it doesn't work. Not even when he pulls the multiple blankets over his ears.

Who the fuck let that guy own speakers?

He turns, and turns, puts his pillow over his ears, turns again but nothing seems to work. So, he decides on grabbing his headphones, so at least he can listen to something he would like. Even though the volumes has got to be louder than a plane taking off right next to your ear, he can at least try it, right..?

He puts on some 'relaxing' tunes and lays himself back down, hugging a pillow. He mumbles a prayer for God to help him sleep, he also might've mentioned to look out for the wellbeing of Louis' roommate because he actually might do something to him if he keeps this behavior up any longer.

As soon as Louis finds himself relax a little, the unthinkable happens. The left part of his headphones suddenly stops working and makes this agitating loud buzzing noise. Usually Louis doesn't give up too soon, but when the right part suddenly starts blaring the music instead of the volume Louis set it up with, the world might be done for. Apart from the heart attack it gave him, the build up anger bubbles in his veins, wanting out, wanting to be freed.

Yeah, Louis actually, really, loses his shit now.

Red dots cover dance around in his sight as he slams his door open, not caring about the dent the door handle might leave in the wall.

Fuck the wall, fuck his headphones, fuck his roommate and fuck his fucking life.

He stomps over to the door on the opposite side of the apartment, letting his fist bang on the door a few times.

"Hey!" He loudly calls out, rattling the door handle when he gets no response. "Hey fucker!"

He leans his head against the door, feeling his migraine wave with the beat of the music. He really, really, does not know how much longer he can keep up with this.
He feels so helpless, the pain in his head almost unbearable.

But then after a little while, the volume goes down a little and soon after, the door surprisingly enough opens, making Louis stumble inside. Two strong arms steady him, by holding his bare arms, causing Louis' head to snap up at the person they belong to.

"Woah, what are you doing?" The guy asks Louis, a sly smile playing around his lips. His touch burning Louis' skin as his green eyes sparkle behind the glasses he's currently wearing.

"Let go of me." Louis uncomfortable squirms, as the guy still hasn't moved his hands.

The guy steps back, holding his hands up in an excusing manner. "Sorry mate."

Louis rolls his eyes, now wanting to disappear into thin air rather than to actually confront the guy. When he turns around to walk away he loses his balance and falls into the door again. "Fuck me." He mumbles, swallowing the bile rising in his throat, as a result of the sudden movement of his head.

"Wow hey." The guy steadies him once again, not letting his hands linger this time. The guy instead puts his hand on Louis' lower back, slightly guiding him out of his room into the kitchen. With a swift movement of his hand he gestures for Louis to sit down.

"I think we need to talk.." The guy starts, rubbing his face. "You're clearly not okay."

"Yeah." Louis nods, his eyes a little droopy. "I have a migraine. I definitely would be more okay if you, for once, would keep in mind that you're not the only one fucking living here. You're so fucking selfish."

"What in Gods name are you talking about?" The guy raises his brows, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "Did I not clean up a cup and plate or something?"

On God, if that was the only thing that bothered him, he would've married the guy after a week. He's never lived together with someone who keeps the shared spaces as clean and tidy as this guy.

"Fucking ignoring the messages I sent you, too, I see. Such a low blow, mate." Louis scoffs, his thumb unlocking his phone in one smooth motion. "You definitely know why I want to talk to you. You wouldn't have avoided me for so long if you didn't."

"Okay." The guy sucks in his upper lip a little, as he pushes up his thick rimmed glasses again. He lets out an annoyed sigh, only to follow it up with something that feels like a demand. "I haven't seen any messages, show me them."

Louis nods, clicking on the chat between him and the guy. It's labeled with Matthew/Mark because Louis didn't understand the land lord when they gave him the number of his roommate, never bothered to ask again though.

He scrolls up a little, the conversation is only one sided. He's never gotten a reply from this person at all.

Mumbling a quick "See for yourself.", he hands his phone to the guy. His eyes closely follow every movement the guy makes, silence settles between the two of them.
Well, as far as silence can go when there's still music thumping in the other room.

"Uhm.. first of all, my name's not Matthew neither is it Mark." The guy's brows drawn together, his green eyes full of question. "It's Harry."

Okay, Louis really doesn't care, why would he care about his name? He really—really—doesn't.

"Second of all, whose number is that? Cuz it's most certainly not mine."

Oh for Gods sake, has he been messaging the wrong person all along? "It's the number I got from our landlord when I moved in." Louis shrugs. "I dunno."

"And third of all," Harry then adds, showing Louis the message he landed on. "You could've told me this in person right?"

Louis lets his eyes fly over one of the messages, even though he probably could recite half of them by heart now.

L. "hey mate i would really appreciate if you turn down your (god awful) music down a little at night, seeing as i need to get up at 5 and would love to sleep earlier than 2 am! thanks. louis."

He lazily pushes the phone back towards Harry, motioning for him to read more of the chat again, as he speaks up. "My god, I tried that—multiple times too—but you didn't fucking hear me at all, did you?"

Harry doesn't reply after that, causing Louis to look up at him, studying his face.

Harry looks a tad pale, if Louis is honest, like all the color drained from his face as he looks at him with his wide, green eyes.

"I- Louis, oh my god, I'm so- so sorry." Harry stammers, fiddling with the ring on his finger. "I never realized you could hear my music this loud outside of my room."

"Yeah well, surprise, you can!" Louis taunted, tiredly leaning his head onto his hand. "And I'm damn tired of the fucking teenage girl era you're going through. Fucking Justin Bieber mate, c'mon."

Harry stares at him with an uncomfortable expression in his eyes, his lips turned downwards as he excessively rubs his neck. "I'm so, so sorry. I specifically asked the land lord to soundproof my room, they claimed they did."

"Oh please." Louis waves his hand, as to dismiss that statement. "You really think they would care to do that? I would've taken you for a much smarter guy."

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Oh please." Louis waves his hand, as to dismiss that statement. "You really think they would care to do that? I would've taken you for a much smarter guy."

"I literally paid them a lot extra, so in fact yes, I would think so." Harry bites back, his eyes on fire as his dark curls wave angrily around his head. "They didn't follow my request."

The motion of his hair makes Louis sick, the curly strands are moving too much. "Oh thanks for stating the obvious, really needed that."

"I'm fucking sorry okay? I swear I didn't know it was this loud throughout our entire house." Harry defeatedly leans back against the counter, on the opposite side of where Louis was sat.

Louis lets out a scoff, his head hurting with the motion. He desperately tries to say something but the words won't form in his mouth.

He tries to look at Harry's face for a second but everything he looks at suddenly starts deforming. Bubbles of bright pink, orange and green create an awful scenery throughout his vision. He's seeing waves everywhere, anything he focuses on makes it worse. The waves differ in color, more rapidly changing with the second. He feels his stomach turn at the sight.

He stands up with a sigh that makes him feel even more nauseous, ready to make his way to the bathroom. He doesn't see anything anymore, just more and more colors dancing around in his vision. As he stumbles over his own feet, he lets his hands fly up to his head, as if to stop the pain for just a second of relief. "Fuck." He breathes, barely finding his voice at all. "Fuck fuck fuck."

"Hey Louis," He hears a voice ringing into his ears from afar, distant almost as if he's underwater. "Hey hey mate, slow down."

"I need to-" His words get lost in him gagging, his chest raising up an unhealthy amount as his body curls over. He clutches his fingers over his mouth as if to hold it in.

Louis suddenly feels two warm, strong arms holding him upright, swiftly guiding him to the bathroom.

As soon as his knees hit the floor, right in front of the toilet, his whole body heaves again, his chest rising rapidly as the nasty acid makes it way through his throat and nose at the same time. It burns like fuck but he can't stop the second time from happening either.

After he's done throwing up every single thing in his body, he feels horrible, wrecked and he literally feels like a mother fucking oil tanker has driven over him.

When he runs his tongue over his teeth he gags from the taste the acid left in his mouth. He feels disgusting, he's too hot, his joggers are too tight, his shirt too wide and his headache only increases with the second.

"Just one sip." Louis hears, right as a glass cup hits his lips. His eyes don't open yet, the darkness feels safe. But he obediently opens his mouth as the person tilts the cup and speaks again. "Hey c'mon. You're okay."

Everything hurts as he tries to stand up after, his vision still so distorted that he has to feel his surroundings on his fingertips. Tracing the wall to the doorframe, just to get a picture of where he is.

"Woah mate," A voice makes it way into his head, but he doesn't even know who it belongs to. All he knows is that he feels supported in the arms that sneak around his body. "Take it easy there."

He doesn't want anything more than sleeping in silence right now, his body is too heavy to carry right now, so he sags down on the floor again. "Sleep." He whispers.

"Not here." The voice rings in again. "Let me."

Louis' voice breaks, as he curses. "Fuck."

He feels himself being carried but he doesn't have the energy to open his eyes anymore. There's still colors aggressively dancing in his mind, some fighting for dominance over the others.

As he feels his body hit the mattress, he doesn't even have the energy anymore to pull his covers up. The person does though, the hands pull up the covers for him and push them snug against him.

-

Louis now has been sleeping since the accident happened, and its starting to worry Harry a little.

Not that he cares much of course, he just hopes Louis is gonna be okay. He really seemed to be not okay. He's just a little concerned, that's all.

He hopes Louis isn't going to be mad when he finds out Harry checked on him a few times throughout the night. He just really hoped he doesn't find out, it feels like he invaded his privacy, but he just wanted to make sure he was alive..

Harry's just so little concerned that he's been pacing around their kitchen table for the last couple minutes, debating whether to call a doctor for him or not.

The thing is, Harry doesn't know if Louis would want that. His demeanor towards Harry hasn't really given him that impression but you know, it looks like it would be necessary.

It's weird though, as Harry usually doesn't surround himself with a lot of new people, but he feels like he wants to get to know Louis better. And maybe even become friends with him, he doesn't know what it is but Louis is intriguing to Harry.

Just as Harry prepares himself a cup of tea, he hears the now familiar click of Louis' door. His eyes immediately snap towards the messy haired guy peaking around the corner.

Harry stills in his movement—leaving the teabag dangling right above the cup—as he watches every single motion of Louis.

Louis swiftly moves his body around the door now, so he's leaning against the doorway. One arm covers his eyes as he rubs his chest with his other hand. He isn't wearing anything but his boxers, giving Harry a full display of his tattoos.

Harry's mouth goes dry as a weird feeling settles in his stomach. His voice barely above a whisper as he speaks, "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Dropping his arms Louis squints a little at Harry—as if he just now noticed Harry's here too. He drops his eyes down Harry's body and slowly scans it before replying. "Horrible."

Harry grimaces, looking down at the cup in his hand. You know, he could've known Louis and he wouldn't be friends after this at all, but nonetheless it still stings a bit.

"How did I get into bed?" Is all Louis asks as he moves around Harry to grab the kettle from the countertop. His slight musky scent settling in Harry's nostrils, the close proximity taking up every bit of his brain, he makes it hard to think.

He watches as Louis pours the hot water into his cup. He watches as he dips the teabag into the water a few times. He watches as Louis leans back against the counter and locks eyes with Harry.

Wait.

"Matt, the fuck you're staring at."

Harry snaps up his head again, only to be met with Louis' curious eyes. "Its Harry."

"Oh really?" Louis rolls his eyes, as if he didn't know that.

"Yeah." Harry grumbles, not quite sure yet if Louis is taking the piss out of him or not.

Truth is, Louis definitely is. He just likes to get a bit of a reaction out of Harry. In the short amount of time they've known each other, he definitely knows that he likes how Harry reacts to things.

Louis sits down at the chair opposing Harry, leaning his head into his hand. He doesn't really say anything else as he swirls the milk in his tea around with a spoon.
"I- Uh-" Harry starts, fidgeting with his fingers.

Louis curiously raises a brow, his cold eyes settling on Harry's face.

"How are you? Like really?" Harry winces as he finishes his sentence, of course Louis doesn't feel good. He literally came just out of bed, and definitely not because he was feeling totally energetic and healthy.

But much to his surprise Louis doesn't say anything snarky just yet. "I'm a bit better now, last night was just-" He lets his teeth sink into his lower lip, as if he is contemplating something. "Just something that has been happening every once in a while."

Harry lowers his head a little, looking up at Louis through his lashes. "Because of.. you know...?" He trails off, knowing what kind of answer would come anyway.

"Yeah, partially because of that." Louis truthfully says as he spreads his hands out on the table, picking at the skin on one of them.

"I'm so sorry."

Louis half smiles, an insincere tired one, rubbing his forehead. "I really want to tell you it's okay but at the moment it's really, really not. I've been struggling with migraines for a long time but they've been worsening since I lived here. Stupid me was thinking they'd eventually pass."

As Louis lowers the cup from his face, Harry's eyes immediately land on his lips, amazed by the pink tinge they seem to have gotten from the warmth of the tea.

Louis' lips form a straight line as he notices the dark haired boy staring at him again, he doesn't really know what to think about it but it makes him feel weird.
"You gotta stop fucking staring, mate. It's making me uncomfortable."

Harry's eyes snap up to his eyes, as he immediately stands up—almost knocking his chair over. Right as an almost boyish look fades over his face, he starts apologizing, defeatedly holding his hands up in the air. "I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to stare or make you uncomfortable."

Louis sighs, he keeps saying the wrong things to him. "Don't worry, its fine. Just watch it next time."

He sincerely nods at Louis, his eyes shining with honesty as he replies. "Thanks and I will."

-

"Number 28." The pharmacy assistant calls out.

Louis sighs, thank god, its his turn. He stands up and grabs his backpack from the chair next to him.

"Name?" The assistent asks, clearly bored.

"Louis Tomlinson."

"Date of birth?" She taps away on her computer, not looking at him once.

He breathes out, rubbing his fingertips against his jeans. He hates this. "December 24th 1991."

"Okay, wait here." The woman snaps her gum, as she makes her way to the storage room.

Like he was gonna walk away now, after having to wait for over half an hour. God does he hate being here. The light is just wrong, it smells horrible and its hot as fuck.

He tries to calm himself down, no need to hyperventilate at the fucking pharmacy.

He sits down sideways on the stool at the counter. He rest his head into his hands, a firm headache already pounding its way to his brain again.

On Harry's advice he's been to the doctor a few days ago, and after a few scans and checks they found a pinched nerve along side with his chronic migraines. The pinched nerve was causing his headaches, which on their turn caused more inflammability of his migraines. 

He needs to get his head, neck and shoulders massaged by a physic every other day for a few weeks to treat the pinched nerve.

But he's here to pick up some beta blockers, apparently they would help against his now almost severely episodic migraines.

He repeatedly taps his fingers on the desk, where even did the woman go—like can she hurry up?

After what seems a century or two, the woman comes into her desk area again, "Mr. Tomlinson?"

"Yeah, thats me." He replies, eyeing the two boxes in her hand with a frown.

"Okay." She huffs as she plops down in her chair again, her dark brown curls bouncing in her ponytail. "So I printed out some instructions for your medication, but it's fairly easy as you just take one pill from the red bottle first and then two of the white bottle."

Louis blinks at her, is she being for real? Literally if she actually would've looked into his profile it'd state he had taken them earlier. "I've taken them earlier. Thanks."

"Oh okay." She nods, "£38 then please."

"Card, please." Louis stands up, as she clicks the option for him, as he holds his card against the machine. "Thanks."

As soon as Louis arrives home, of fucking course Harry is already waiting for him, curious as to how his trip to the pharmacy went.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"I can never do anything right, can I?" Harry snaps, as he throws his magazine on the sofa, where he'd been reading earlier.

"For gods sake Harry," Louis sighs, leaning against the counter, warming his hands with his cup of tea. "I just asked you to not leave your art in the hallway again, because I fucking tripped over it. No need to get all worked up."

He watches how Harry stands up, shoulders tight, and he feels his eyes on him but he doesn't dare to meet them. Instead he looks down at his hands, peeling a little bit on the skin of them.

He does know he over-exaggerated a little just now, when he almost reprimanded Harry on how he tripped over his stuff. But to be fair, it's happened thrice now.

"It's not 'just' this or 'just' that. You've been fucking parenting me lately and it's getting really fucking annoying. We live here together, both as adults, remember?" Harry bites, slowly making his way over to Louis, causing him to look at Harry again.

"Well I'm sorry for not wanting to break my fucking neck every time I come home from something." Louis shrugs, studying Harry's face. He studies the frown between his dark brows, his plump lips now in an angry thin line.

Louis knows he is purposely over-exaggerating all of this, but he can't stop. Not when this is the reaction he gets out of Harry. He just really is in the mood to make someone lose his mind today.

Harry scoffs, gesturing between Louis and himself as he squints. "You and I both know I never put stuff outside of my room."

"Well, there was something in the fucking hallway just yet, wasn't there?"

"Oh shut the fuck up." Harry spits out, his eyes frantically searching for a bit of sympathy in Louis' face. "Why don't you just go lock yourself in your room again already if you're gonna be this fucking irritated all the time."

Oh?

Louis has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the last remark, his lips spreading into a slight—dangerously fake—grin instead as he continues holding Harry's stare.

"You aren't my fucking dad okay? So stop acting like you are." Harry breathes out, his face showing defeat.

"Oh yeah?" He inches closer to Harry's face, the remains of his devilish grin still lingering on his lips. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You don't do well with people telling you what to do, do you?"

"Louis." Harry warns, his brows furrowed.

"You hate it when people tell you what to do because it reminds you of your own fucking dad, doesn't it?" He sneers, venom dripping from his tongue. "You hate it because daddy used to get mad at you when you didn't do as he said, right?"

To be honest, Louis doesn't even fully understand why he is doing what he's doing right now. He just really wants to hurt someone, just to get the sharp edges off of his day, and unfortunately for Harry, its him. And he knows exactly how to use the part that'll hurt the most.

"Louis, please." Harry asks, almost pleadingly.

"You act all out like this now, with your lifestyle, because daddy said you couldn't, didn't he?"

"Louis." The desperate tone making Louis aware he struck a nerve.

"Louis?" Harry asks again, his voice cold, his eyes scanning every feature of him. "Fuck you. Literally fuck you for acting like we were becoming friends and then using everything against me. I thought you were better than that."

Louis finally rips his eyes away from Harry's. The pain in his eyes almost becoming unbearable to look at. Fuck.

"What?" He snaps, an uneasy feeling playing up in his stomach. "Don't you dare turn this against me, you literally were the one to get mad when I said something about putting away your art somewhere else."

"God, Louis." Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation while backing away. "You don't fucking get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"This whole week of you waiting to get the results back from the lab you've been the most unbearable person I've ever dealt with. You snap at anything, notice my every move and I have been walking on fucking eggshells to not turn you against me. I've been trying my best to move out of your way and not disturb you. I tried to make you feel comfortable and less stressed out by distracting you a little. But what do I get in return? You big mouthing me on every opportunity."

Louis lets out a laugh, a bitter one at that. Who is he kidding? "I'm doing what?"

"You're always fucking talking down on me, you've gotta appreciate what you've got for fucking once."

"Am I supposed to thank you for keeping yourself silent around me for once when I literally got into this fucking problem because of you?"

"You know what? Fuck you and your fucking migraines." Harry finally says after a short silence, pushing himself off the wall. He then retreats to his own room. The loudest fucking music Louis has heard from him in a while, booms throughout the apartment shortly after.

Shit.

Leaving Louis to ponder upon what just happened. And if he's honest, he himself doesn't even know that very well either.

He doesn't know why he is feeling so uneasy. He doesn't know why he is feeling so upset with Harry, and why he constantly targets him for his outbursts. It almost feels like he's abusing the trust Harry gave him, to treat him like shit.

Louis has been struggling with his health now ever since that breakdown a few weeks ago.

And now, while he knows Harry isn't entirely to blame, deep down he still partially blames his roommate for what had happened to him back then.
He knows it isn't fair to, but it's easy to.

He's been in and out of the doctor's office ever since and he thinks it is the most annoying thing ever.

The nerves in his back are slightly less suppressed now from the massages though. And finally today he actually felt a bit better for the first time in a while. He slept well and the constant headache seemed to have faded a bit.

Up until he came home to the big piece of art Harry put in the hallway, and tripped over it.

It was like everything that had been building up this last week came out at once when he snapped at Harry.

They actually had gotten a lot closer over the past time, as they found out they liked each others company and could relax and unwind from work together.

He had actually felt like he had kind of found a friend in Harry. He felt comfortable around him, much like he would around his best friend back at home.

Just take the example of when he came home from the pharmacy, Harry had been waiting for him. And as much as he pretended to be annoyed by it, deep down he appreciated it so much. It made him feel so comforted in a way.

Louis sighs before standing up, defeated now he realizes he can't push this away for longer now. He needs to apologize, he actually fucked up.

"Harry?" Louis weakly calls out, knocking on his door. The music still booming through the door. But Louis is sure Harry has heard the knock, he'd swear the music got a tiny bit less loud.

"Harry, please." Oh how the tables have turned, Louis grimaces to himself. Now it's him who's doing the pleading.

He knocks on the door again.

And again. Louder this time.

"Harry?" The music comes to an end, silence dawning upon him.

"Please, can we talk?" Louis sighs, resting his head against the door. He hates this.

"Talk then." A low voice comes through the door. He's not shocked to hear the venom laced through Harry's words but it's uncomfortable.

Usually Louis is quite sure of himself, he's not the most outgoing, confident guy but he's definitely got his mouth with him at all times. But this whole situation has been nibbling at that confidence.

"I'm sorry." He bites his lip, the floor suddenly feeling too cold underneath his feet. His boxers feel a tad too hot and his hair is prickling in his neck.

"Oh."

Fuck.

"I really am sorry, I want to apologize." Louis pleads, "Can you open the door?"

"Are you though?" Harry sneers as he finally steps outside his room, closing the door behind him. "Because to me it sure felt like you meant it."

Louis steps back, suddenly feeling very conscious of his almost bare body. He feels out of place, as if he would need to hide in a big sweater.

"Harry, I'm sorry." He brings out. "I shouldn't have said those things."

"You really shouldn't have. It was actually really surprising to hear that coming from you, especially after these last few weeks."

Louis winces at the sharp tone behind Harry's words. "I know."

Harry shakes his head, "I really, honest to god, thought I could trust you. I've been treating you like a fucking king for the past week too and you just fucking disregarded every damn part of that."

"I'm really sorry for breaking that trust." He looks up at Harry through his lashes, regret lacing his voice. He looks away as his eyes meet Harry's.

"Harry?" He asks, his voice wavering, and barely dares to continue as Harry doesn't reply. "I'm sorry, I just don't think I know how to handle someone who cares about me anymore."

-

Louis sighs as he switches position for what seems like the fourteenth time this past minute. His back aches, especially in-between his shoulder blades—making it hard to breathe.

His eyes hurt from the headache behind it, but nothing seems to relieve it. Even being in his pitch dark room in complete silence is too loud for both his eyes and ears.

He snuggles into his comforter, rubbing the soft cotton against his cheek. A comforting habit from his childhood that helps him get his mind of the pain a little.

After he'd stammered out the last words he said to Harry he'd hurried into his own room to get away from him. From the whole situation, really.

And thats where he's been hidden for the past few days, he hasn't spoken to Harry since. (Or anyone for that matter.)

Truth is, he really doesn't know how to act around people anymore. After he had left his family in his childhood town and moved to the city, he hadn't really spoken to them a lot.

He isn't really able to tell if that was on purpose or just happened over time but fact is that they don't speak a lot anymore. He occasionally calls his mom or his oldest sister but thats it.

A tight knot forms in Louis' stomach as he overthinks the last few months. He had been living out here for months without someone close to him to tell them his worries, concerns and problems in life.

He misses them. He misses someone to hold close. He misses being able to trust someone without a second thought.

And that's when the realization hits Louis.

He's lonely.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

For a moment Louis is sure he's going crazy when he opens his eyes the next morning, only to find his flatmate sitting in his chair.

The boy seems at peace in the semi dark room, cozied up into his hoodie with a cup of tea in his hand. His unruly, dark curls resting on his forehead as his eyes flicker curiously over the text on the newspaper, laid out on his legs.

He lets his eyes scan over him for a moment until he snaps himself into reality again. What is he even doing here?

Louis then scrambles upright in his bed, letting out a confused: "Harry?"

Harry—who for a moment there seemed startled—neatly folds the newspaper and then gently puts it down to look at him.

His green eyes sparkle as the corners of his mouth quirk up, "You are endearing when you're half asleep."

Oh, hell no. Not this.

But as much as he hates to admit it, Louis knows the tips of his ears are on fire. He hates compliments, even if they're sarcastic.

"Shut up," He grumbles, pinching the skin between his eyebrows. "What are you even doing here for fucks sake?"

"It's been six days since you've left this musty hole." Harry states, causing Louis to roll his eyes as a reply. "So I wanted to check up on you and I also thought maybe we could do something today, that is if you are ready to stop hiding from me."

Oh please no. This is the last time Louis has given someone his spare room key for emergencies because this is just straight up annoying. He doesn't need people coming into his room like this.

"What?" Louis scrunches his nose, glancing at Harry through his lashes. "Why do you think I was hiding from you?"

He's right though, Louis was hiding from him. He'd hate to admit it but there's no other way to put it, he was hiding.

Harry sighs. "You literally went into your room after your apology and didn't come back out for the next few days. That sounds like you're hiding from something. From me."

"Didn't know you were a psycho analyst." Louis then quickly slips out from between the covers onto his cold flooring. As he lets his eyes wander around, he notices what an actual mess he left his room in, these last few days.

Luckily because of the medicine he's been taking, his head doesn't hurt that much anymore, making it okay to open the curtains.

He stands in front of the windows for a bit, just absorbing the soft sun outside. It's working so hard to reach him, it's sad actually. That's what autumn does for the stance of the sun of course, but still, its attempts are worth the mention.

"Now, before you leave me alone." Louis purposefully emphasizes the last few words, as he turns around. "I actually planned on going out to run some errands today, and you may come along if you wish."

The corners of his mouth move up a little as he watches Harry's face light up as if he just dangled a lollipop in front of a four-year-old.

"Sure." Harry quips, sounding happy Louis actually will let him come along. "Will be waiting in the living room. Whenever you're ready."

Louis quietly chuckles to himself as Harry leaves his room, if only he knew what Louis was actually planning on doing today.

Putting on some of his favorite music he stretches himself as he steps into the shower. The hot water streaming down his body making him feel more relaxed almost instantly.

It allows him to let his mind wander to different things for a bit.

He finally feels a little better than he has been feeling in a long time, so it's time to make something out of that somewhat rare occurrence.

So, after his refreshing shower, he decides to take on his room this morning before going out. Its a mess.

Clothes are splattered everywhere, dirty dishes are piled up on his table and his rooms smells like there's been someone rotting there for a few days. He might as well call himself out.

He hates that he gets these episodes where he can't keep up with himself, but it seems like they're only getting worse and happen more and more frequently lately.

He still hopes that they'll fade sometime soon though.

-

"Hey Harry?" He calls out from the kitchen as he makes himself some tea, while mentally preparing himself for the work that's waiting for him.

He hears Harry pause the game he was playing on his phone. Probably Hay Fever? Or Hay Bay or something, that seems like a game for him. Managing his own little farm and checking in on animals daily, that's Harry in one sentence.

"I'm gonna tidy my room first and we'll run the errands this afternoon. That okay with you?"

Harry walks into the kitchen, leaning onto the doorframe, obviously having changed from earlier today. The grey knitted sweater looks good on him, they perfectly go together with his dark blue jeans.

Louis isn't really a person who dresses up a lot but he appreciates when a man takes care of himself like Harry does. He thinks its attractive.

Harry's lips spread out into a wide grin, as he watches Louis pour some water into his cup. "No problem."

Louis stills in his movement, he looks up at Harry—who pushes himself off the doorframe and walks towards Louis—dumbfounded by his happiness all the time. His bright eyes seem to have a never ending amount of sparkles in them.

"We, uhm, we also could grab some food together if you'd like?" Louis blurts out, immediately focusing on filling the cup up again. "If you want to of course."

Harry smiles down at Louis as he takes the kettle from Louis to fill his own mug. "Yeah sure, that'd be nice."

Louis nods with a small smile on his face, picking up his tea to retreat to his room again. "Okay then, see ya."

Once he enters his room again, he's already questioning every decision he made today. What in the world did he even think by asking that like that? What if Harry thinks he was asking it like a date..

God no. Louis sure doesn't hope Harry would think so. He's sure Harry wouldn't.. right? They barely know each other, of course he wouldn't think so..

A dull headache settles between Louis' eyebrows again, as he puts on some music to distract himself from the thoughts running through his head. And so, he finally starts cleaning his room.

A while later he finds himself sitting on the floor between piles of stuff as he hears a knock on the door. Did he already say he fucking hates cleaning out his room?

"Come in." He calls out, craning his neck to the side to see who's there. "Oh hey, you."

Harry smiles at that remark as he enters the room—it's a warm, inviting smile. Leaving Louis no option, but to return the expression. There's suddenly an awful lot of smiling going on in Louis' life and he's not sure what to think about it.

"I was going to ask if you were quite done yet, but yeah.." Harry chuckles, motioning through the room. "Do you maybe want some help?"

Louis shakes his head, his head feeling heavy as he does so. "You don't have to help. I just need to-"

He stops talking as he gestures to the few different piles in the room. Noticing how much he still has to do before he can stop cleaning, his heart sinks.
Shrugging he sighs, defeated. "Yeah, well, whatever. If you want to?"

"Of course, that's why I offered." Harry simply replies, clearly not impressed by the mess in Louis' room.

-

Louis smirks to himself as they enter the big green bricked building, if Harry only knew what he got himself into.

He's about to watch Louis get massaged for an hour or so. He still has the massages every few days, as the course needs to go on for several months to see results.

He doesn't necessarily like the massages in the moment itself but he does like how much more flexible and open the muscles in his neck and back feel after them.

"Louis..?" Harry asks, a warning undertone clear in his voice.

Well.

"Yeah?" Louis grins, the skin around his eyes crinkling in amusement. "What's up Harry?"

"Are we at your massage parlor?" He slowly asks as he studies one of the nameplates next to a closed door they're walking past.

"Yeah, why?" He now laughs at Harry's indignant expression. "You wanted to see me do stuff again right? Well, you'll get to see me do stuff then."

Harry groans as they take a seat in the waiting room, "I didn't mean something like this. If I wanted to see you shirtless laying on a bench, you could've done that at home for me."

Louis barks out a laugh, this guy just gets funnier and funnier.

Once his laughter has died down a little, he dares to look at Harry again but he can't contain his grin. "Yeah I probably could've done that for you at home, but unless you have a secret career as masseur I wouldn't expect you to work on me. Although? You sound like you would love to do so."

Harry sourly laughs and is suddenly extremely interested in the nearest magazine. Yeah right.

"Mr. Tomlinson?" The masseur calls out once he's opened the door, "You can come in."

"Perfect." Louis replies, a taunting smirk on his face as his eyes linger a bit over Harry. "C'mon Harry, let's go."

"Can't wait for this to be over." Harry deadpans, as he slowly puts away the magazine.

"Me neither," Louis smirks, adding a wink. "Because you'll continue it for me at home right?"

-

Louis is laying face down on the bench as the masseur is working on his back. It hurts but like in a good way, if that makes sense?

The masseur kneads and pushes on the knots in his back and he lets out a sigh. One that sounds an awfully lot like a moan, of course, things like that always happen to Louis.

The moment he turns his head a little to see if Harry heard that, he locks eyes with him. As if he's been watching him for the entire time already.
Harry's eyes are trained on Louis', an unreadable expression on his face.

"Could you please put your head back down, sir?" The masseur asks, in a friendly manner. "It's better for your back when I work on it."

He hears a slight chuckle come from the side but he doesn't dare to look over at Harry.

With a face he's sure looks exactly like an tomato, he puts his head into the cutout for his face again.

After some time has passed, he finally takes the risk of taking a peak at Harry again. Only to find him staring at what seems his lower back.. Wait, not even at his lower back. He's really looking at his butt?

Harry's gaze is fixed upon Louis' bottom, his mouth slightly ajar as he flicks out his tongue to wet his lower lip.

Fuck.

Louis really has such a nice body. Of course, Harry had seen the guy half-naked some time ago when he got sick but he hadn't really paid that much attention to the details of his body back then.

He leans down into the pillows of the couch he's sitting on, taking his time to appreciate the art that's laying right in front of him. And God, is it a piece of art.

He lets his eyes trail down slowly from Louis' muscled back to his thick legs. The route takes a rest at his butt, it's literally such a perfect butt too.

God, he's not sure if Louis even knows how attractive his body is. How attractive he is as a person overall, at that.

Louis feels a soft nudge at his neck from the masseur so he decides against speaking up and embarrassedly puts his head down again.

Damnit, why did he think this was a good idea? He should've let Harry just stay in the waiting room instead of taking him into the room. The fuck did he even look at him like that for?

Once the massage is done he sits upright, eyes nervously flickering to Harry's face. But Harry isn't paying attention as he's typing something into his phone. He feels a weird knot in his stomach as he hopes Harry didn't stare at him like that and he just imagined it.

The masseur walks Louis to his desk to discuss the next date for an appointment, and as Louis looks back at Harry he sees the slightest bit of a smirk linger on his lips.

They figure out the appointment and Louis greets the masseur before walking towards the exit in a hurry.

"Wow." He exclaims, turning around once Harry has caught up with him. "Couldn't get enough of me, now could you?"

Harry raises his brows as he takes a step back. "What do you mean?"

This guy.

"I know I got myself quite a nice bottom but staring is considered rude." Louis retorts, slightly starting to see the fun in the situation.

Now it's Harry's turn to get flustered, a pink color spreading over his cheeks. "Wha- What are you implying?"

Louis grins, motioning for Harry to walk along with him again, "I noticed how you seemed completely obsessed with my lower half."

"Oh god." He hears Harry mutter under his breath as he hides his face into his hands.

Louis then laughs out loud, a warm feeling flowing through him. "It's okay, I know they're nice."

"Ugh shut up, will you." Harry groans, "I was just looking."

"Whatever you say." Louis nods, laughing as he nudges Harry.

-

"Why did you even offer to help me tidy my room?" Louis asks, brows raised as he takes a bite out of his sandwich, before continuing with his mouth full, "I'm not the most clean person."

After Louis went to his appointment, he also needed to run some errands. But they decided to get some food first, and when they stumbled upon this cute little restaurant, they couldn't resist going inside. It's actually one of Harry's favorites, and he has a nose for good food, as he says so himself.

Harry chuckles as a bit of food spills on Louis' cheek, but then his face turns serious. His eyes settle on Louis' face as he furrows his brows. "I really don't think you're unclean in any aspect, as I tend to have a few of the same habits you do have. You should have seen my room a few days ago."

Louis ungracefully wipes his cheek with his sleeve as he looks up at Harry, surprised. "Do you get those kinda episodes too?"

"Yeah." Harry quietly admits, cheeks puffed as he shakes his head. "They suck."

And for the first time in a long time Louis doesn't feel so alone in his particular episodes.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Coming home to have someone waiting for you. A weird concept Louis hasn't known for a long time now. He's still growing accustomed to it, to be honest.

And he does not mean it in the way of having a significant other waiting for you, because Louis doesn't really do relationships. He has had his portion of those in life and he gets a bit nauseous only thinking about it.

It's in a friendship way, someone caring for you platonically, that's what Louis also hadn't had in a long time.

He's a bit of an einzelgänger honestly, he prefers being on his own. Maybe its the aftermath of growing up in an environment where you constantly were surrounded by people, maybe its not, but who'd know?

So that's why Louis still gets this slight heart-aching feeling every time he steps inside his shared apartment, only to find Harry sitting there with a hot cup of tea waiting for him.

It's bittersweet, knowing he hasn't had this in so long but also the feeling of having it now but not wanting to have it slip away.

It's not any different tonight after having worked later than usual, as soon as Louis opens the door he locks eyes with Harry.

"Ahh not this again." Louis half-jokes, because he loves having a cup of tea after work but he's also really really tired today and would rather grab his cup and drink it in his bed.

But Louis might be an asshole overall, but he wouldn't let Harry know that he'd rather do that last option instead. Not when Harry is trying so so hard for them to become better friends, maybe also partially trying to make up for whatever he let Louis go through.

He loves it though, the way they get along now. He hadn't really noticed before but now that he has this—a friendship—again, he notices how much he's missed it.

"Yeah, this again." Harry mumbles, looking up from whatever he's drawing. "I needed to ask you something actually."

"About what?" Louis' curiosity plays up as he throws his jacket over a chair and leans against the wall with one arm to take his shoes off. He knows it irks Harry when he doesn't put them away immediately but they still have wet bits of mud on it and he wants to let that dry completely.

And maybe, partially, because he likes annoying Harry a bit.

Harry puts his pencils in the case and finally puts his notebook away. His eyes settle on Louis once he sits down in front of him. He knows Louis is a very curious persona, that's why he is silent for so long, and Louis knows that.

"C'mon Harry," Louis rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his tea. "Fucking stop dragging this out. What did you want to ask?"

A smile plays around Harry's soft red lips, his eyes shining a bit as he finally speaks up.

"What are you doing this years Christmas?"

Odd. That's so not what Louis expected.

"Well uhm," Louis answers, squinting his eyes as he looks at Harry, so not sure about it himself. "I guess I don't really have plans for the holidays, my family is out of town I think."

Not that he'd really want to spend it with them though, ever since their big disagreements he'd rather spend every holiday alone than with them.

Last three years he'd already spent the holidays miserably sulking in bed, longing for what once was.

"Great!" Harry grins, before quickly realizing it might actually be sad that Louis's family is out of town with him. "Wait, I mean-"

Louis reassuringly nods as he interrupts Harry, "Its okay, why'd you ask though?"

"Oh yeah," He smiles, "Well, my family owns this cabin in the woods just a bit out of town. And usually we go there together as a family but this year everyone's doing different things.."

Of course. Harry already seemed like the happy-family-always-together type. Louis doesn't know why it irks him so much because why would he care?

It's not necessarily that Louis had a bad background growing up, they've all just been growing apart lately. He doesn't really remember the last time he's seen his whole family in one place, might be a few years ago he thinks. Maybe at his sisters marriage, not sure.

"You know, siblings getting married and having an in-law family they owe stuff to. Parents wanting to be away for the holidays." Harry continues, waving his hand around a bit.

Okay and? What does this have to do with him?

"But I really love going there, I wouldn't want to miss it. Its this really amazing cabin at a small lake, with like a veranda and pine trees all around." Harry's eyes shine as he tells this. "We even see deers around sometimes!"

God, can he come to the point?

"So I thought, maybe.. you want to come with me there?"

"Sounds nice," Louis smiles, "Just the two of us?"

Harry slowly shakes his head, dark curls following the movement. Different emotions glaze over his eyed as he seems to be internally debating something. "We could both invite some friends if you want?"

Oh. A funny thing to mention; Louis doesn't really have friends around here.

He absentmindedly rubs his forehead with the knuckle of his finger, pursing his lips.

"I, uh, my friends don't really live around here." He shrugs, stirring his tea, seemingly unaffected by it. "But if you have a few who would want to come too, that's cool with me."

He's not entirely lying though, his best friend from back home—you might've guessed—is still there, in their hometown. Not that he has a lot of contact with him though, but he'd call him a friend still.

But other than that, he hasn't really got any friends here. Even though he's been living here for a few years now, he didn't really care to get close to somebody.

Sure, his coworkers are nice and he's gone out with them a few times but they don't really connect other than work-wise.

It's not that Louis really had tried to connect with them though, as he said, he prefers being on his own anyway.

"Sure!" Harry hums, "I'll ask whose around and wants to come then."

Louis nods as he stands up, seeing the conversation as ended now. "Yeah, you let me know. I'll just be in my room now, kind of a headache again."

He really can't wait to sleep, he felt even more tired than he initially thought when he came home.
-

But once Louis is laying in his bed, cuddled up against his pillows and blankets, the sleep doesn't come.

He lies awake for a long time that night. Eyes aimlessly staring into the dark, his headache intensifying as his mind seems to continuously end up running in the same circle again. Ending up with that same damn question every time.

Why would Harry ask him to spend Christmas there with him, but mostly, why did he agree?

There's still a bit of time left before they go, though. Plenty of time for Louis to fuck it up and leave them both separate again. Just like he always does.

But Louis isn't so sure he wants that for them. He was finally getting a bit more used to having someone around again, showing him he'd actually missed all of that when he decided to shut everybody out once he moved here.

He wasn't always like that though. He loved having people around when he was younger, rather, he needed people around him. His closest friends knew everything about him and he, in return, knew everything about them. He misses that sometimes, being young and being able to trust that easily.

Ever since he left back home to 'broaden his horizon', everything had changed. When he used to come home for the holidays, birthdays and sometimes a longer amount of time, nothing had felt the same anymore. Nothing felt the same as it used to be, nothing actually was how it was.

It wasn't all bad though, back home, but he did move. And with him moving everyone else had moved on too. He didn't fit in with his friends as much as he did before, his family talked about memories he wasn't a part of and the feeling of home he thought he found there, wasn't so much there anymore.

And to be completely honest, he doesn't really think he's found that feeling again. He knows he maybe doesn't need as much as human contact as someone else but he does need the feeling of home. He hopes to find that again sometime.

Louis sighs, moving to his other side for the hundredth time now. He hates the sinking feeling he gets in his stomach when he's all alone, overthinking in his bed at night.

His phone screen lights up as soon as he lightly taps it.

2.04am

He sighs again, getting up to get a cup of tea, knowing the sleep won't come anytime soon. The stress of being not rested well enough for work tomorrow becoming a burden on his shoulders.

Walking towards the kitchen his feet make a slight tapping noise on the floors, he thinks it sounds almost like a little duck.

Yeah he is definitely sleep deprived, who goes around thinking of themselves making the noise of a duck?

After he's made himself a cup of tea, he sits down at the kitchen table.

Tracing the flowers on the table cloth he sips his tea, hopefully after this it'll be easier to sleep.

It's honestly been a long time since he couldn't sleep at all, he's usually knocked out within the minute. He never seems to be getting enough sleep lately.
Luckily he doesn't have such a loud roommate anymore, well at least at night.

"Couldn't sleep?" The sudden low voice startles him, making his head snap up at the person making way for the kettle. Of course, it's no one other than Harry.

"Yeah you?" Louis blinks, rolling his lip into his mouth.

"Had to finish some assignment, got a little too deep into it." Harry yawns, half covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

Oh?

"Entertain me a bit here, what kind of assignment?" Louis asks, curious as ever.

But Harry shakes his head, "Nothing you'd find interesting."

And how does he know that? Louis has a very broad spectrum of things he finds interesting actually..

"Is that so?" Louis raises a brow, daringly looking at Harry.

Harry lets out an exasperated sigh, grabbing the chair to sit down too. "Yeah Louis, that is indeed so. Or, enlighten me, would you find the 7 characteristics of gothic architecture interesting?"

Louis grins, pointing at his thumb. "Pointed arches." Then, as he proceeds to point to his pointer finger. "Vaulted ceilings." And, continues: "Stained glass windows, and I could continue if you'd like?"

Harry just stared at him, open-mouthed. "Wha- How?"

Louis lets out a laugh, "I'm a fucking building contractor Harry, I've done my research when it comes to architecture."

"Oh yeah," Harry groans, rubbing his neck. "I literally could've known."

Louis just smiles at that, sipping the last of his tea. "Yeah, you actually couldn't, because I haven't told you that. I told you I worked in construction but that's it."

Harry blinks, clearly trying to recall the memory of Louis telling him about his work. Louis knows he's right though, there's only certain parts of his life he's told Harry about.

"What else do you hold as a secret against me?" Harry finally questions, brows furrowed as he eyes Louis.

Louis shakes his head, a faint smile on his lips. "So much you don't know about me, Harry."

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Did you pick up your package?" Louis yawns, tiredly eyeing the big carton box in Harry's hands as he enters the kitchen, well over his usual coming-home-time.

Not that Louis keeps track of Harry's schedule, of course, but Harry's usually home earlier than Louis.

An eye roll followed by an "Isn't that obvious," makes that Louis teasingly grins in Harry's face as he stands up.

"Not really, no. Looks like you just went to Tesco to get me snacks.." His headache makes it a little hard to focus on Harry though, he squints a bit at him as he leans back against the counter.

"Please, go get fucking snacks yourself if you are so hungry. Besides that, we have food here." Harry grumbles, seemingly completely occupied with what's in the package.

Okay mom.

"No, we don't." Louis whines, trying to peek over Harry's shoulder into the box. "We ate everything because we're leaving in a week or so, remember?"

Harry quickly closes the box before turning around, an annoyed look on his face as he crossed his arms, "Stop being so fucking invasive, it's not for you. And also if you're hungry then just order a pizza or whatever. I don't want anything."

"Woah I- I just-" Louis stutters, taken aback by the venom in Harry's voice.

"No nothing 'you just', you're just way too fucking nosy." Harry sneers, "You should mind your business for once."

And okay yeah. he's right. But Louis doesn't love the fact Harry keeps pointing it out lately. He has been working on it but he feels like he's just being interested and maybe he just wants to know every detail of the life of people he's close with, know all about the things they do and love.

"I should, I'm sorry." Louis whispered. An unknown feeling pangs through his body as he immediately spins on his heels to disappear into his room again. The hungry feeling ebbing away with each step. Instead a pounding feeling flooding into his head.

As soon as he enters his room, he takes off the sweater Harry let him borrow and throws it on the floor. Fuck that sweater for smelling so much like Harry, that's the scent he really doesn't need right now.

Louis doesn't like to admit it but he feels hurt.

He hates admitting it actually, because he doesn't like to feel vulnerable. He is definitely the type of person who would throw an insult back at any given chance rather than to only just receive one.

That especially today of all days he feels like this, is not so much of a surprise. He's been having one of his episodes again, as his headaches are making its way into his life again.

Might've something to do with the stress he's stumbled upon lately though, as the doctor said.

If he's going to be honest, it's not been a lot of fun around here these past few weeks. Harry's had to finish a few assignments and Louis found out he can get quite a bit stressed, also that he likes to project his stress upon others.

And he found out that a stressed Harry is snappy, peeved and definitely not fun to be around.

Frowning he lays down on his bed. The colored lights of the late night traffic in the street playing on his ceiling.

Honestly, he was really looking forward to escaping his usual routine for a bit on that trip, but he's not so sure about it anymore. The thought of cancelling on Harry has now maybe crossed his mind two or three times. Or maybe four or five.

Fact is, he really doesn't want to be around someone who's going to be moody and hostile to him for the whole trip. He's a person who really takes on others vibes, which can be quite tiring and draining.

It started when Harry had asked Louis to come along with him to his family's cabin in the woods. After that, Harry had told him his assignments due dates were close and his exams were starting too.

Louis hasn't seen a school on the inside for years, so he doesn't know what semesters and exam timing is nowadays, but he felt like something was off with the amount of times Harry 'had to finish this assignment' or 'had to study for that exam'. But who is he to be questioning Harry?

He isn't quite sure why Harry has been distancing himself from him lately, but it's definitely not helping in his favor. Louis had actually thought they had become friends, but probably not friends close enough for Harry to tell him what's up.

Maybe he's regretting asking Louis to come with, or his friends don't want Louis to come along with them, but Harry doesn't know how to tell him?

At least, all of this has made it clear for Louis that he doesn't want to lose this friendship. He had finally gotten used to having someone around, having someone to rely on.

A notification sound coming from his phone wakes Louis up, who seemingly had slipped into a light sleep earlier.

Grabbing his phone from his nightstand-where he threw it down earlier-he sees it's a message from Harry. Speaking about the devil.

H. Lou, care to still get that pizza? together?

He bites down on his cheek, fiddling with his phone between his fingers. He really really wants to cave. To give in to Harry's request. To pretend all of that didn't happen and they're fine again.

But he's also quite petty and he doesn't like being snapped at. He has an ego too, you know.

Just as he finally wants to type out a reply, he hears a soft knock on his door. Of course, Harry.

As soon as he opens the door, he's met with a thousand "sorry's" and "i am an asshole" and an overall very apologetic looking Harry.

Louis steps out the door into the hallway, the cold breeze hitting his body making him realize he doesn't have his sweater on anymore.

"It's okay." Louis quietly mumbles, softly rubbing circles on his stomach with his fingers.

But it's kind of not okay, he kind of doesn't want to forgive Harry just yet. He kind of wants to test what Harry's limits are when it comes to asking to be forgiven.
Because that's also Louis, testing boundaries and plotting for revenge.

"No," Harry says, his voice unsure, his eyes trying to measure Louis' intentions, "It's not okay, you really didn't deserve me projecting my stress on you. And I shouldn't have lashed out on you like that just now." He adds the last bit rather quickly, rushed.

"I was really stressed about school and the upcoming trip and you actually helped me more than I deserved."

Louis rolls his lip between his teeth, thoughtfully leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah."

Then, a mischievous grin flies across his lips, just for a second though, someone might've almost missed it if they weren't looking at his lips before.
"You know, this talk would really go smoother if you had added that pizza to it."

Harry's eyebrows go up in surprise, relief flashing in his eyes as he hurries to grab his phone. "No, yeah of course."

Louis blinks at his willingness, rubbing his face. "I'm kidding Harry. I'm not hungry anymore. But thank you for apologizing."

Harry seems not satisfied enough with that, holding up his hands in an exasperated manner. "Louis please, I need to know we're okay."

And if for one second Louis thought he could easily do this, this whole making up thing, the next sentence that comes rolling out of his mouth surprises not only himself but also Harry.

"We're fine, Harry, we're good. These last few weeks I've felt like I was gonna lose our friendship and I can't do that. So even though I'm still feeling conflicted within myself with whether or not we're fine, I just want to pretend we are. Okay?" He swallows, blinking, trying to comprehend the fact that he just came clear about both his overthinking and feelings towards Harry and the fact that he clearly has issues. He knows its not healthy, behaving like this. But what can a man do.

"I- Uh," Harry gulps, "So.. you're sure?"

Louis softly smiles, "I'm sure Harry. Not going to lie, but I would've cancelled on your trip if you continued acting like this without seeing the damage of your actions."
"If you had done that when you wanted to the first time, I would've not gone on that trip myself either."

A frown sets above Louis' eyes, "Why?"

"Because up until yesterday I didn't even know that my friends Zayn and Calum were coming."

"Ah."

"Yeah, looking forward to seeing them too now." The skin around Harry's eyes crinkle a bit at the sides as he looks into the distance, a faint but fond smile on his lips.
Oh.

"My uh- My headaches are back, so I'm going to sleep now." Louis mumbles, rubbing his head for dramatic effect.

Harry quickly nods, understandingly. "Of course, again I'm really sorry that I had a part in that.. giving you more stress than needed. I'm glad we're good now."

As he enters his room, he stands in front of the window for a while. His eyes too painful to focus on the individual cars driving down there, so he stares off into the distance zoned out.

Well, that's fun right, Louis? He asks himself.

Getting to know who Harry's friends are? Knowing what people he surrounds himself with when he's not with you?

But somewhere deep inside him, Louis knows that he's not looking forward to share the time there with Harry with his friends, at all. The friends which, might he add, he doesn't know anything about.

-

Louis is not happy. He's quite irritated to say the least.

Today at his initial second to last appointment before the holidays, his masseur told him that his next scheduled appointment is cancelled because of him going on a trip for the holidays.

Like? Doesn't he feel any kind of commitment towards his clients to just not cancel?

Other than just having to reschedule the appointment, it also means that he will have to go a longer time without having his back worked on and that's what irks Louis.

He hates that idea. Because he's sure his headaches will return heavier exactly on time for his own trip with Harry.

He's been feeling better ever since he started getting the regular massages, and he really doesn't want to decline his progress.

But there's nothing he can change about this, it is what it is honestly.

But fact is that it's the worst timing ever. He doesn't want to sulk and feel bad the whole time he's there with Harry and his friends.

He'll just try his best to make the most of it all and hopefully it'll work in his favor.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Endless traffic, endless red lights and endless complains finally turn into endless empty roads crossing endlessly packed woods and a silent drive.

Soft rain—or maybe wet snow—makes a sound on the windows, as the guys make their way towards the cabin. The headlights the only light source on this road for now, making Harry drive more cautiously.

Louis uncomfortably switches positions for the millionth time in the car seat, hopefully as unnoticeable as it gets. His legs are too long to sit comfortably in this car anyway.

"Are you okay?" He winces at Harry's question, because of course. Of course he had to notice it.

"Mhm," He hums, not entirely off the truth. He's okay, just not good. "I'm okay."

"Yeah right." Harry chuckles, a hint of disbelief lacing his voice. Probably due to the fact that he's noticed the amount of times Louis had changed his position. "Do you want me to pull over for a bit?"

Louis rolls his eyes, "If you want to lose even more fucking time, then yes."

A exasperated sigh follows from next to him after Louis statement, "I know, it was dumb to think there'd be less traffic. But you can stop the childish attitude with me though."

As a response, Louis just closes his eyes and leans against the window. Even with his eyes closed color still dance in them. His neck hurts a lot from the uncomfortable positions it's been put through in the last seven hours.

And yes, you read that correct, seven hours. It was supposed to be a three to four hour drive, but the holiday traffic was just lovely. Harry thought that the Thursday before the holiday weekend would've not been as busy as the Friday. Which to Louis sounded absurd, but hey, Harry had already gone there multiple times so he would know, right?

And the thing is that Louis would've also not be okay with the four hour drive, because he does bad on drives that long. But he would've made it through better. But nothing can be changed now, and he's probably going to be stuck in the cabin for the following days with a more intense headache than usual.

-

"Louis?" A voice barely above a whisper makes its way into his ears. And again, "Louis? We're almost there."

Oh.

Louis then opens his eyes, to be met with them just making a turn onto the driveway leading up to the cabin. The headlights illuminating the view in front of them.

It's beautiful.

The cabin is fully made of dark brown wood, with a wrap around veranda in probably the same color. There's a tiny layer of snow on the roof and the million dark green pine trees surrounding the cabin show off a white hat too. Somewhere behind there must be the lake Harry was talking about.

A moment later they make their way in, both carrying all their bags at once because neither of them want to go back to the car again. The drive being long enough to make both of them dead-tired.

They had been talking a lot, getting to know each other a bit more and frankly it had been fun. But they're snappy now, mostly Louis. His neck is hurting and painful daggers shoot up from there to his brain.

-

"Damn it." Louis turns in surprise as he hears Harry curse from the other room. He was just making himself some tea to warm himself up a little.

"Harry?" Louis then calls out. "Do you need help?"

Harry just comes walking in as Louis finishes his sentence, not looking too happy. "Would be nice, yeah."

So he walks behind Harry through the hallway, still not sure what the problem is that made Harry so frustrated.

"Think the central heating system is broken." Harry grumbles as he points towards the white boiler hanging on the wall.

Oh fuck. It's still freezing in here, as Harry's parents always turn the central heating low for the time they're not using the cabin. Meaning it would've taken a while for the cabin to heat up after they came in.

"Let me see." Louis nudges Harry away from the boiler, to get a closer look at the screen.

But as much as he would like to have a magic touch, the screen also doesn't turn on for him. So the boiler couldn't have been on standby either, this type of boiler would have its screen light up when being on that. He tries to turn on the boiler with the emergency buttons on the bottom but they do nothing either.

He smacks his lips, squinting his eyes a bit at Harry. "Well, I guess we're fucked."

A frown settles on his face as he stares back at Louis, "Why? It should be able to turn on right?"

"Nah, I think the standby mode was accidentally turned off last time you or your family was here. So I think the pipes may be frozen."

"But," He continues after a moment of silence. "Let's try again tomorrow, because I'm hungry, tired and also have a buzzing headache again."

Harry nods, seemingly deep in thought as they make their way to the living room again.

-

Some time later they're both sitting on the couch, as much blankets as they could find covering them. They shove the couch as close to the fireplace as possible, to gather as much warmth.

The light crackling of the fireplace filling the silence as they both are absorbed by their own thoughts.

Orange light from the fire playing catch on the ceiling, reflecting the storm inside of Louis. And ironically, the lights still play when his eyes are closed.

Louis feels like he doesn't belong here, in this cabin thats usually preoccupied by a happy family. The holidays spent here by them left a lingering nostalgia in this house. A happiness that must've once been a part of Harry's day to day life now narrows down to the few yearly holidays he spends here with them.

A happiness that Louis hasn't necessarily known in his life. He's okay with his family more or less. Never really sees them though, couldn't remember the last time he's seen any of his siblings. Nor talked to them.

He lets out a sigh, tired of always overthinking. He misses the feeling of home, all the while he's not entirely sure what he's missing about it. He's never been really close with them.

After the last time he's seen his family, he hadn't talked to any single one of them. Not necessarily because he didn't want to, but they could've reached out too, couldn't they? Surely contact doesn't only have to come from him. He's not sure what he did to deserve the wrath of his whole fucking family but he probably has enough faults for them to hate him.

Honestly, he's almost sure that his upbringing made it hard for him to trust people. He thinks of how he abused Harry's trust before, not being able to handle such a big thing given to him. Trust is so heavy and big, he isn't quite sure what to do with it.

Another softer sigh follows as he covers his eyes with his arm, resting the back of his head on top of the couch. He hates feeling like this, he hates that he is beating himself up every opportunity he gets. But it's almost as if he deserves it, like his head is telling him he does.

And like, he is the one acting like this isn't he? He abuses peoples trust in him. While they haven't done anything of that kind to him.

"Lou?" Concern lacing Harry's voice. "You okay? I could look for more blankets if you're cold?"

A small smile plays on Louis' lips as he turns his head to look at Harry. "No I'm not cold. Thanks though."

And then, in a bold moment, he twists his body and lays down with his head on Harry's lap, face up so he sees him looking down on him, eyes sparkling a little.
Harry's hands almost automatically find their way into Louis' hair. Like they're made for it. Like it's supposed to be this way.

"What were you thinking about?" Harry asks softly, his dark curls falling over his eyes as they search his face. To find anything that could satisfy the questions pooling in his eyes.

"Stuff." Louis replies, "Stuff that's been gone long now and well, us."

"What about us?"

Louis rolls his bottom lip in between his teeth. And before he knows it, the words roll off his tongue. "Specifically me, how I treated you."

He notices Harry's eyes settling on his lips for a bit before averting his eyes. "Well, how did you treat me?" The seemingly innocent question is followed by a thick, heavy tension filling the room. The burden of his mistakes weighing Louis down.

He slowly looks up at Harry again, a frown decorating his face. "Just- The way I fucking acted like you were the only cause for all my problems."

"Yeah but Louis, I did a great part in it, didn't I?"

He nods, "You didn't help, no. But it wasn't only you."

Harry shakes his head, his curls bouncing up and down. "You know, I know we're maybe not that close but if you ever want to talk about anything I'm here."

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Their time at the cabin purely exists of them living in a bubble together. A bubble in which just the both of them exist, maybe they've made a silent agreement to not talk about their family or friends, or maybe they haven't but neither of them brings it up.

They just spend about every damn minute of the time together. They cook together, they play boardgames together, they do a christmas themed puzzle together, they bake cookies together, they go on long walks together and life seems at peace for once.

They get along so easily, almost as if they've known each other for their whole lives.

They talk about everything that's on their mind, without thinking anything of it. They get to know each other even better.

There are no fights, just maybe a little bickering. For example when Harry let Louis make the caramel glaze for the cookies. Only after Louis insisted he wouldn't burn it, which of course, he still did.

And maybe the time when Harry said he knew the way back to the cabin after they went for a walk and it got a little too cold out as it had just started snowing. Which of course, he did not. So they had spent around 2 more hours until they found the way back to the cabin.

The first morning there, together, was something else too.

-

Snuggling a little closer into the covers Louis just lied there, warm and comfortable. Although, the warmth feeling like it was coming from something other than his own body, slowly made him realize the position he's in.

He was entangled in Harry's arms.

He was actually, really lying down on the couch, in Harry's arms, with his head on his chest.

A strange, quite heavy feeling settled in his stomach. It felt good, safe really, to be here. To lie there in his arms. But he felt almost as if it's not okay, like he wasn't
supposed to be there.

Like he wasn't supposed to feel like this. His body isn't used to this, so maybe he shouldn't get used to this feeling either.

"Hi." Harry mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, frowning a bit as he tried to sit up. Louis quickly slipped to the other side of the couch out of his grip, far away from the feelings he caused.

"Hey." He softly said, hypnotized by the way Harry looks when he's just awake. The way his dark curly hair is a mess, his dark red lips are plump and his rosy cheeks.

He mentally shook his head. He shouldn't be looking at Harry this way, they're just friends. Or more like flatmates, maybe not even friends? He doesn't even know what they are, so why is he acting like this with him.

"How'd you sleep?" Harry had asked, not even avoiding his stare.

"I- Uh, okay." He'd stammered, taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. "I slept okay."

That's a lie.

He slept really good actually. He'd felt more rested than he has in a while.

"That's good, right?" Harry smiled down at him, as he was getting up. "Do you want eggs and toast for breakfast?"

"Yeah I guess and yes please."

Louis then stood up, aiming for the bedroom he'd initially put his bags in, to change.

-

And now it's sunday night, they're sitting on the couch by the fireplace again. Louis leaning into Harry's side, Harry casually having put his arm around Louis.

Louis feels content, just being here, existing with Harry. His head is pounding just a little tonight, which makes it feel easier to ignore that. He's just really tired, the
fire crackling making him a little more sleepy too.

Louis had found a way to fix the heating on Friday morning, so technically they could sleep in their own rooms, but up until now this was how every night had ended.

Them just sitting down on the couch at the start of the night and suddenly they'd wake up the next morning all curled up in each other.

Nothing less and nothing more than that. Louis would finally sleep through the night without the heaviness on his heart weighing him down so much it'd wake him
up.

"Thank you." Louis suddenly mumbles, looking up at Harry's face.

He frowns, his dark eyes settling on Louis' face. "For what?"

"For this." Louis motions around the living room. "It's truly been an amazing time."

"Yeah, it has been." Harry softly chuckles, almost as if in disbelief. "It's been so good."

They sit together like that for a while, just embracing the fact that they're so close in proximity.

And so they're on the edge of dozing off together again, their rhythmic breathing and soft snores every now and then are a dead giveaway.

Harry's body makes Louis feel at peace, as he leans a little more into his side. His musky cologne filling his nostrils, leaving no room for Louis to think about anything else than Harry.

Just Harry.

Louis twists his head so he can see the main object of his thoughts again.

"What's on your mind?" Harry then asks, locking eyes with him.

He opens his mouth to say something but he's interrupted by a car door slamming shut outside, his body tense at the sound.

"What's that?" He asks Harry, who is also frowning at the sudden noise outside.

After quite a moment of silently waiting, Harry's face lights up as he removes himself from their set up and makes his way towards the hallway. "Oh shit, they're here!"

Oh. That's right. Harry's friends.

Louis grimaces as he turns back around on the couch, his shoulders tense, why did he agree to Harry's friends coming? It would've also been a nice time between the two of them.

A moment later cheers and hello's fill up the livingroom. The atmosphere immediately changing with it.

"So, this is my roommate and friend Louis." Harry sounds proud as he grabs Louis by his shoulders to make him turn around to face them.

Roommate and friend, it repeats over and over again in Louis' heart. The chant rising up and getting louder and louder.

Until he's sucked back into the reality of all this and looks up.

He's met with two darkhaired tall guys. The left one grins and extends his hand. "Hi Louis, I'm Zayn. So nice to finally meet you."

Louis side eyes Harry, he must've definitely been talking shit about him to Zayn.

"Nice to meet you too Zayn, love your cardigan."

And that Louis does, it's a wool cardigan, knitted in a hundred colors. Looks amazing on him, though it wouldn't suit Louis at all.

"Calum." The second guy nods, his demeanor a little different from the open and inviting feeling Zayn gives off. Not necessarily in a negative way, just a bit more cool.

"Louis." He says, returning the fist-bump Calum held out.

Harry motions for them to go sit down on one of the couches, Zayn plopping down next to Louis.

Great.

Louis honestly hates new situations, especially when moments before he was at peace and actually felt like he could sleep any minute. But something like this as an interruption?

Immediately makes him want to leave.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

That night, Louis doesn't sleep.

He turns, and turns, and then turns again. But sleep isn't nowhere to be found.

His body hurts. Everything hurts.

A storm had picked up earlier this night and now the creaks the wood causes, the wind slamming onto the roof and the room is filled with other unknown sounds that don't belong to the usual sounds his bedroom at home has.

And as much as he dislikes being a whimp, he's cold too. Deadly cold.

No matter how many comforters he's thrown on, he can't seem to warm his body up even for one degree. He's wearing his thickest pajamas and a sweater, but the ice inside his body doesn't want to leave.

His body aches, needing back the amount of sleep he'd gotten while sleeping in Harry's arms.

His head hurts, needing back the slender fingers which would massage his scalp and neck mindlessly while watching a movie.

His head is pounding more than ever, the constant turning not helping either. He's lying in complete darkness, everything in the house is completely silent except for the sounds of the storm outside

Silence. But he still has loud colors playing in his head along with penetrant buzzing in his ears.

And he hates it, hates his body for doing this to him. He'd rather die than endure it any more, sometimes.

Every time he closes his eyes, rather uncomfortable fragments of the day play behind his eyelids too.

He blinks, tries to blink the fragments away.

"You should've seen yourself." Zayn laughs, its a warm, hearty laugh.

Louis grimaces, trying to force out a smile. "Yeah. I don't do well with surprises."

He turns around again, trying to seem occupied with preparing some snacks.

He sighs softly, knowing that moping around won't help a thing. But he also really doesn't want to be around these guys right now.

He doesn't feel good. He feels horrible actually. Every single damn thing in his body hurts, every single damn thing in his body screams.

But it's not only his physical pain, also the mental pain. He hates being around new people. Especially when they're close to someone he's friends with. Or roommates.

Whatever you'd call Harry and Louis at this point.

The thing is, Zayn and Calum have been nothing but inviting and nice to him. They don't act like he isn't there or won't only talk to Harry. They've been asking him
stuff and involving him in the conversations. Deep down he knows why he doesn't want to get to know them, he just doesn't want to share Harry with anyone this weekend. It had been so good up until now.

Everything between them had been perfect. Now his friends got to ruin it. Burst his bubble.

He grabs a knife to cut up some baguettes, having just prepared the dips. Mindlessly he stares at his hand going back and fort with the knife, slicing the bread. Almost like it's not his actual hand.

"Louis?" He hears Harry ask from the couch, "You okay there? Need some help?"

"No thank you." Louis dismisses his help immediately. "Almost done here."

He doesn't need help. He has never needed help and he will never need help. In the most double sense of the words.

He opens his eyes. Still nothing but darkness staring back at him. He contemplates getting up but he has no energy left in his body for that. And so his eyes fall shut again.

"Louis?" Zayn calls out from the couch. "Are you coming to watch the movie with us?"

Louis sucks a little air through his teeth, scrunching his nose. He can't think of a valid excuse not to.

"Yeah, I'll just be a minute." He finally says, knowing he can't just go to bed yet. Harry would definitely interrogate him in the morning.

As he returns to the couch area he finds that he can either sit down next to Harry or Calum.

In a flash second he chooses to sit down next to Calum, handing him the snack bowl he prepared. Not daring to look at Harry.

"Thanks bud." Calum contently sighs, "Perfect spot for that bowl here."

Louis hides a grin, "Right, thought you would appreciate it."

Throughout the movie Calum and Louis share thoughts about it, softly as to not disturb the others. Louis likes the way Calum views certain aspects of it. He finds Calum will see more of the artistic, deeper layer of the movie whereas Louis just sees what they show him and tell him in the story.

And that whole time he does not care to look at Harry. He doesn't quite know why but just ignoring him feels good.

It may be a stretch but he feels almost as if Harry thought it wouldn't be fun with only Louis at the cabin.

Calum nudges Louis and points at the screen, "See? That's what I said would happen."

Louis rolls his eyes, "No, that's what I said and you agreed to it."

Calum laughs, his smile widening as he looks at Louis. "Definitely not true."

After a little more playful bickering, they're suddenly snapped out of their own world by Harry.

"Please can you guys shut the fuck up for once, I'm trying to focus on the movie here." He barks out.

Louis looks at him for what feels like the first time in forever, noticing that beneath the angry face, pain is pooling in his eyes.

Louis' eyes fly open. He tried to erase that specific memory from last night multiple times already but nothing seems to work. His mind loops around it as if it's the only memory left.

He just tried to have fun with Calum and Harry ruined it.

The colors behind his eyes tumbling and tossing over each other with each try. The pounding intensifying.

-

He then decides to go downstairs and get some tea. Maybe that'll calm him down a little.

"Can't sleep?" A low voice calls out of the dark, right as he enters the kitchen, stopping him in his tracks.

Harry.

"No." He continues walking to the counter, filling up the kettle, trying not to pay any mind to Harry.

But he can not, not think about him, he feels him in this space. He knows he's coming closer to him, as he hears the floorboards creak.

"Why?" Harry asks, his voice flat, not letting any emotion shine through it.

"I-" Louis tries to form a sentence but Harry cuts him off.

"Because you were thinking about him, huh?"

Louis now turns around, back against the counter as he tries to read Harry's face. The small light in the kitchen making it hard to clearly see his eyes.

"What are you trying to say?" Louis asks, his brows knit together.

"Oh God," Harry sighs in exasperation, "Please do not act so dumb all of a sudden, you knew exactly what you were doing."

Louis just raises a brow and turns around again as soon as he hears the kettle click. Grabbing a teabag and a mug he pours the water into it.

"Are you just going to ignore me again? Just like you did last night?" Harry bites out, "Because yeah, I noticed, we all noticed and I fucking despise you for that."

He noticed and it hurt him. But hearing him say that didn't give him the satisfaction he expected he'd feel.

Louis finally turns around again, not being able to keep Harry waiting for an answer any longer.

"I'm sorry."

Well, that's what he wanted to say but instead he looks up at Harry and goes; "I was just trying to get along with your friends."

"Are you fucking taking the piss, you were all up in his ass. Laughing at everything he said and when I wanted to say something you'd just talk over me and say
something to him."

He's right, he did do that. It felt good in the moment, not that good right now.

Harry takes a step closer, making Louis take a step back so his back is against the counter. "Why would you do this? After this whole weekend together, I thought we got closer than ever, am I mistaken for that?"

"No," Louis stumbles over his words, looking anywhere but Harry. "No you aren't."

"Then why the fuck would you act like this." And when after a moment Louis doesn't reply he speaks up again. "Why the hell would you make me feel like shit again. You know how much I hate being ignored. And hitting on my friend, really?"

"I wasn't hitting on him."

"Then what were you doing, it's truly a miracle that you weren't sucking his dick just yet."

Louis raises his brow, looking at Harry in disbelief. "Are you fucking for real?"

Harry leans back a little, making his back hit a cabinet. "I was asking you a fucking question."

"I didn't want to make you feel like that on purpose." Liar. "And besides that, if I was hitting on your friend, why the fuck would you care?"

Harry shakes his head, his curls dancing around his face. His eyes glimmering a bit. "I just think-"

"You think what? That I do everything with you in mind? If I'm at home alone you say that I need to go out more and find some friends, and when the opportunity makes that someone I would call my friend too, invites people over that he cares about, and I try to become friendly with them too just because they're important to him, it's suddenly bad and I'm trying to get into their pants? My God."

Louis feels disgusting as he spits out lie after lie. Truth is, he didn't even want to be friendly with them. He also didn't even want them to come. And neither did he want to get into their pants. He just wanted to let Harry feel bad because he brought this upon him.

"Louis-" Harry breathes out, "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please don't lie to me like that, I saw what I saw."

"Fuck Harry." Louis meets his eyes, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "Stop making everything so fucking difficult and messy. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have ignored you but it felt appropriate after having to suddenly share the house and play nice with people I've never met. And why the fuck would you even care if I was trying to get into his pants? Maybe I've already sucked him in the bathroom or maybe I haven't yet. That's really nothing you should worry about."

"Louis?" Harry asks, taken aback by the venom in Louis' voice. "Did you really?"

"Oh my god of course not Harry. Is that really how little you think of me?"

It hurts a little, hearing how Harry insinuates things Louis wouldn't even dare to think about with friends from his friend.

Harry breathes out, not saying anything yet as he steps forward again closing the gap between them. Suddenly the atmosphere changes, a heaviness fills the air.

He puts up his hand and cups Louis' cheek with it. "Louis." He whispers, "I don't. I think of you so highly."

It feels like there's a million honeybees buzzing in Louis' stomach, shooting up against his insides at the same rhythm as his pounding headache.

There's nothing but Harry on his mind currently.

He notices Harry lean in a little, their eyes locked in each other. Harry's thumb softly brushes against his cheek as he looks down at Louis' lips. His eyes full of an unreadable emotion.

A soft breath leaving his lips snaps him out of the moment, they can't be doing this. Louis roughly pushes his hand away and starts walking away, "I'm going to my room."

"Louis, wait."

Louis turns back around, letting out an annoyed sigh, "For what Harry? I'm sorry for ignoring you, I shouldn't have done that. But I think we're done talking now, especially with you accusing me of such things."

"Louis, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. Please let me explain."

Harry then drags Louis back by his sleeve, motioning for him to go sit down at the table. "Please can we talk about it?"

Louis nods, rolling his bottom lip inbetween his teeth, thoughtfully looking up at Harry still standing. "I feel like I should be the one begging to talk and asking for
forgiveness. I fucked up tonight."

"We both did." Harry agrees, sitting down opposite of Louis. "I want to know why we always fucking end up here. Why can't we just be normal together?"

"I don't think that's meant for us." Louis shrugs, drawing circles on the table with his finger, "Feels like we're always at either zero or one hundred. And I'm not sure
that'll ever change to be honest. I'm not good at all that."

He then sighs, his headache tripling in intensity. "But please Harry, go on, you wanted to explain?"

"I guess I just don't like seeing you act like that with someone else." Harry blurts, his hand flying up to his mouth the moment he's done talking. His eyes widen as if
he's a deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh? Is that so?" Louis' eyebrows shoot up, not having expected that at all.

Harry groans, hiding his face in his hands. "I so did not mean to say that."

"But is it true?"

Harry nods, "Yeah."

Louis moves his head a little, "Okay. And why exactly?"

"Because seeing you act like that with him made me feel like shit."

"Once again, I was just being friendly. And why the hell am I explaining that to you? I shouldn't have ignored you, that was so fucking wrong of me to do to you but I was not flirting with your friend."

Lies. Lies. And even more lies.

"It's not that you can't be fucking friends with him," Harry rolls his eyes, seemingly annoyed. "But you flirted with him so bad."

"The fuck I did. I was just being friendly." Louis snaps back, "Where the fuck would you get that from?"

Here we go again with the accusations.

"Just because I'm attracted to guys too, doesn't mean I fall head over heels in love with everyone I've just met. I'm not pathetic."

Harry doesn't meet his eyes, "I know, but this was just-"

"My god. I am so done with this conversation. Here I thought you wanted to explain yourself but the only thing I get are more accusations. I'm sorry for treating you like that today but I just wasn't feeling it and I just wanted us to share these moments at the cabin together." Louis stands up while talking and shoves the chair underneath the table in a wild manner. "If you can talk to me without accusing me of some shit again, come see me. If not, then shut the fuck up and go to sleep. I'm going to bed."

His half empty cup of tea being a remnant of their conversation, Harry leans his face into his hands and stares down at the table. He feels like a fuck up.

How is he supposed to act normal with Louis ever again when every damn time they try to have a talk they get heated and they say things to hurt each other?

He really didn't want to start talking about Louis and Calum, he didn't. But he still did and it fucked everything up. It just hurt so fucking much to see them together like that. He doesn't want to share Louis with anyone really for that matter. It was a dumb idea to invite them, but he was scared.

Scared he'd fuck everything up.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

After a while of him sitting at the kitchen table, Harry finally gets up. He and Louis need to talk this out. He hates feeling the distance between them growing with the second.

He softly knocks on the door, "Louis? You still awake?"

It stays silent in the room and after a minute or so Harry wants to leave, clearly he's asleep already. But the moment he turns around, the door opens, revealing a grumpy Louis.

"I was finally sleeping." He grumbles, rubbing his eyes. "But come in, I guess we don't have better things to do."

Harry slips through the small gap Louis opened the door to. "It'll be quick."

"That's what he said."

"Be serious." Harry rolls his eyes.

"I am though, think you won't last long." Louis clicks on a small bedside lamp, the yellow light illuminating his face. Showing the side of his mouth turning up a little.

"Sure Louis, sure."

Harry goes to sit down on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. He opens his mouth to say something but Louis is ahead of him. "Okay before you say anything, I'm going to lie my head down in your lap and please please run your fingers through my hair. My head is hurting so bad, I feel like it'll explode very soon."

Harry grins, "Sure. That's cool with me."

And so it happens, Louis lies his head down in Harry's lap and Harry starts to run his fingers through his hair. Louis closes his eyes and Harry starts to talk. "First of all, I am so fucking sorry for accusing you of these things. I know you would never, and maybe even if you did it would be none of my business."

"Second, I was just plain jealous."

Louis opens his eyes for a second, looking up at Harry as if he was talking Mandarin just now. "What?"

"I was jealous. Plain fucking ugly jealousy." Harry scoffs, "Today I realized I'm kind of bad at sharing. I feel like we're still getting to know each other in our friendship and I hated sharing the idea of you with my other friends."

"I get that," Louis' voice barely above a whisper. "That's the reason why I ignored you, I felt like you needed more people around because it wasn't as fun together maybe. And I wanted to have it stay the same and not share our time here together with someone else. I'm so sorry for acting like that."

A knot ties itself even tighter in Harry's stomach. "So, you felt like that because I invited them over?"

"Yeah, when you asked me to go here with you I thought you meant only you. Like just a relaxing long weekend together. But then you said you invited some more friends and I tried to be okay with it, but I hate new situations and meeting new people. Luckily your friends are cool with me being here -I think- but I was fucking scared it'd suck with them around."

Harry doesn't say anything and just keeps running his fingers through Louis' hair, he softly massages his scalp. Just trying to find the words to reply.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Harry lets out a soft sigh, "I don't know honestly. Sometimes it feels like fate put us against each other and that it'll never work out."

Louis bites his lower lip trying to hide a smile, "It can't be Harry. It was fate that made us end up together in our apartment. And the fact that we got from, for sure on my part, enemies to friends, says a lot. That's also fate right? And if we could fix that bump, we most definitely can fix this one."

And just as he said that, he opens his eyes and looks up at Harry who has his gaze fixated on him already.

"What are you staring at?"

"You, trying to find out how you can be so poetic sometimes."

"Shut up," Louis grins, "Its just the truth."

For a while they sit in silence after that, Harry mindlessly tracing the outlines of Louis' face. His finger following underneath his eyes, along the bridge of his nose and around his lips. Louis shifts his head a little so Harry has better access to his neck area. Harry moves his hands over there and without question starts to massage the area. He feels the tensed skin underneath his fingertips relax a little.

Louis lets out a soft groan, "I'm so fucking tired, it's not even funny. This is good though."

After a bit Louis opens his eyes again, he's met with a dark room but still feels Harry's hands on his body. He tries to sit up but as he's half strangled in his comforter he can't really. Then he realizes Harry's actually still there, running his hands through his hair.

"You snore when you're asleep."

"I don't."

"You do." Harry chuckles, "I literally heard it."

Louis tries to scoff but his throat makes a weird I-just-woke-up noise. "I wasn't even asleep."

"Mhm, I'd say you were though. It's around 4am already."

What? Louis had lied awake for so long and now he'd suddenly go to sleep for a while?

"Why aren't you asleep then? In your own bed?"

"Was just thinking about things, us." Harry replies, his voice giving away that he's wearing a smile. "I also didn't want to move and wake you up. You were finally
sleeping."

Louis looks up, tries to find Harry's face in the darkness. Harry must've put the light off because he was sleeping. He can't but it's comforting enough to feel he's literally laying on his lap still. He bites down on his lip, "If you want to you can go to your own room now, get some sleep maybe?"

He says it hesitantly, not sure how Harry will reply.

It's silent for a moment, "Do you want me to? To leave?"

Louis shakes his head, "Not really, I guess."

"Then I'm staying. Also I couldn't seem to get myself warm when I tried to go to sleep in my own room and now I'm finally feeling alive again instead of a frozen carcass."

Louis silently celebrates, not being able to say anything without sounding too eager. "Okay then."

And so they fall asleep, Louis lying in Harry's arms, his body safe and sound against Harry's.

And all seems well in the world.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

"I don't blame you, but I can't change you. Don't hate you, but we can't save you."

"So, tell me then, what happened between you two?" Stella grins teasingly at him, leaning her head down on her hand. "How good was he in bed?"

Louis scoffs, "We never slept together."

"So something else did happen?" Stella laughs, before turning more serious. "You can trust me and talk to me about anything, you know that."

Louis nods, he knows that. Stella and him had became friends a while ago, shortly after Christmas. They had met in the exact bar they're at right now, where Louis had been drinking away his doubts and thoughts about Harry and Stella nervously ordering more and more wine as her boyfriend kept running later and later.

Fate having that they shortly conversed, about her thinking her boyfriend was cheating on her, before said boyfriend showed up with lipstick smeared across his neck. His big mouth threathening Stella as well, made Louis gift him a black eye and a one way ticket out the door.

Ever since they've practically been joined at the hip. At first essentially Louis helping Stella through her break up, but now Stella seems to get more and more invested in Louis' life as well.

Especially tonight, when they had been at the bar since its opening hours, having drowned themselves in alcohol, she keeps prodding Louis for more information about Harry as he kept mentioning him tonight.

"To be honest nothing really happened, I guess?" Louis lazily questions, following the rim of his glass with his fingertip. "It's complicated."

Stella gives him a dead stare, "Yeah right, I'm not taking that for an answer. You better tell me what is on your mind, you'll feel better after talking about it, promise."

He sighs, she sure is persistent. "Okay then, but please order me more fries and a martini, get something for yourself as well."

She grins, already half way out of the booth, her silver dress shiny in the dim lights around the bar. As she walks away her brown curled hair sways with her stride.

She's back in a heartbeat, carrying a tray with two martinis and his fries. "Now, tell me."

Louis rolls his eyes, "It's not much okay? I don't even know where to start"

She nods, sipping from her drink. "I don't care, just tell me."

"Okay then." Louis sighs, "I think it started after we got home from spending Christmas in his family's cabin. In my opinion we had such an amazing time there, we literally did everything together."

"Before we went there I've had some doubts, as I told you, about how I didn't know his friends. Turns out they were awesome, so nice that I got a little jealous about how Harry had such great friends. I then tried to make him jealous by acting very close with one of them, he noticed that and I hurt him."

"The night following that act we talked it out, I thought, and everything felt okay after that until we went home."

Louis rolls his lip in between his teeth, recalling the night after they got home.

Stella rests her eyes upon his face, "Go on, what happened at home?"

And Louis speaks again, mindlessly dipping his fries into the sauce.

They both had drowned themselves in their day to day activities. Louis got up early to go to work, Harry went to bed just around that time. The remaining time where they so happened to be awake and home at the same time consisted of them twirling around each other, carefully stepping over each opportunity to start a conversation.

It went on for a few weeks, until something inside Louis snapped. A pang through his heart, all of a sudden a weary, heavy sadness overflowed his insides. He felt fucking horrible. He didn't tell Harry though, why should he? It clearly wasn't meant to be something more than one magical holiday.

And yeah, knowing that fact sucked, but on the other hand. He knew it was too good to be true. And that was okay too, in a way.

-

Louis scoffs, blinking a little faster, "I really- really thought we had something. And it just kept getting worse. Especially that one morning."

Stella just nods, letting him talk while rubbing his arm.

-

He had woken up that particular morning feeling disoriented, having dreamt about the night at the cabin. He'd swear he could still feel Harry's hands in his hair.

But when he woke up to the sound of his alarm, there was no one next to him. No warm body to cling to in the crispness of the early morning. No soft, rhytmic, breaths lulling him back to sleep.

Nothing but darkness surrounds him as Louis drags himself to the bathroom, almost tripping over the mess on the floor. He feels horrible. Nausea creeping up the walls of his insides as he looks in the mirror. He looks horrible as well.

He hadn't felt good in a while. His health wasn't the best.

He had spent New Year's Eve in bed, sick, with a headache that came closer to a truck driving over his head multiple times in a row than to a simple migraine.

He's not sure what Harry did that night, and he really didn't care so much. He hadn't had a New Year's wish or something with him which made it clear that Harry didn't want something more.

He slowly focused his mind onto reality again as a moment later he heard a faint knock on his door, so soft he didn't dare to say it's real or fake.

"Louis?" Another knock followed, finally making him realize there was actually someone knocking on his door.

He swung the door open to find a desperate looking Harry on the other side. Dark circles illuminating the white in his eyes.

"What's up?" Louis mumbled, too tired to actually try and speak up. It's 6am for fuck's sake.

"I came to say goodbye."

What?

"What?" Louis raised his brows in unbelief, rubbing his eyes as if he was trying to see if he was hearing this correctly.

Harry leaned against his doorway, arms folded against his chest. "Yeah, I have to go home for a while. My mother needs me."

Louis brain finally started to wake up, "Home? Your mother? Is she doing well?"

Harry let out a soft sigh, letting his head fall against the doorway too. "Yeah, she is okay, I guess? But I don't know, she sounded really worried about something and my siblings didn't have time to go home."

"And you? Your exams start in a bit as well right?" Louis let the words slip out of his mouth, worry lacing his voice. "When will you be back?"

"I don't know." Harry avoided his stare.

Somewhere deep down it felt like they were about to separate their lives forever. Something about the fact Harry still lived in the same apartment as him had unknowingly comforted Louis. But now it was going to change for a while, he'd pondered.

"I don't really know what's going on at home, and my exams can be redone in a few months so I'll do that."

A few months. "So you'll be staying until then?"

"Maybe," Harry swallowed, tugging at the hem of his sweater. "I really don't know."

He lazily motioned towards his bags on the ground, "I have to go. Have to catch the train."

"Be safe." Louis mumbled, his eyes scanning Harry for what feels like is gonna be the last time. "Text me?"

And Harry nodded.

He'd text.

He would, right?

A wave and Harry's out the door. Leaving home a cold darkness.

Louis stood there for a bit, pondering about what just happened, until he realized he'll be late for work if he doesn't hurry the fuck up.

The cold air hit him like a brick, a freezing rain hammering in his face.

The holiday festivities and cheer had certainly worn off in the city this late in January, giving everything a kitsch look. Dark homes with lit up Christmas figures in the garden, someone eating cereal in their robe next to their completely dolled up tree. Louis scrunched his nose. After their amazing stay at the cabin, everything felt off.

Dreading the endless chain of long, silent, painful, intense days in front of him he finally stepped into work.

-

Louis lets out a shaky breath, "So, yeah, that's the last I've heard from him. He couldn't be damned to even just text me he'd arrived safe. But it's okay, whatever he feels is best."

Stella scoots a little closer in the booth, pulling him into a side hug. "You don't have to pretend you're fine, Lou."

He tries to smile, but surely it turns into a grimace. "I look damn fine don't I?"

"Sure," She says, both know she's lying as she tried to rub the frown from his face. Her soft hands comforting him in a way.

He bites his lip, his eyes suspiciously burning. "It's lonely. It's so fucking lonely."

"I know," Stella whispers, letting him rest his head upon her shoulder, "I know it is."

Louis hates this, hates being vulnerable. Hates feeling things. Hates himself. Hates Harry.

"I hate him." He spews out, scrunching his nose at the thought of him.

"Louis," She grabs his head making him look at her, "You don't hate him."

"I do though."

"No you don't. You hate the way he makes you feel things. You hate the way he makes you feel like you depend on him."

Louis shakes his head, tries to drown out Stella's voice. She's right, but he doesn't want it to be.

"I wanted to be there for him, I don't even know what's happening to his mother but he just didn't want to let me in." Louis breathes out, "He just left me."

"I just wanted to show him I care for him and his family as well, but I don't think he would want that."

Stella just rubs his arm, comforting him and leaving them sit in silence.

"I want to leave." He repeats himself over and over again, until his voice has gone from barely above a whisper to quite loud. Almost a lullaby to himself.

"Okay." Stella curtly says, then leaves a few bills on the table, grabs her purse and hurries them out the door, Louis stumbling over his own feet multiple times in the process.

She walks with him, her heels rhythmically clicking on the ground, her perfume surrounding him.

"Why do you do this to yourself Lou?" She grabs his arm, making sure he stands still on the sidewalk. "Why do you keep beating yourself up over this? It's not your fault."

"Yeah, it is. I was the one who stupidly tried to get back at him with his own friend, in his own cabin. I'm a horrible friend. I'm not even sure if I could call us friends though?" He rambles, "He's right about not texting me, we're nothing."

They have arrived at his apartment complex, Stella grabbing his keys as she leads them up the stairs. "You're talking shit because you're drunk as hell."

"No, I'm right. Because he doesn't owe me anything right?"

Stella rolls her eyes and pushes him out of the way trying to unlock the door. "Lou? I'm saying this with love but shut the fuck up, we're going to bed. We'll talk tomorrow."

He tiredly nods, an intense, heavy feeling of failure washing over him.

As she leads him into his room, after making a pitstop in the bathroom to empty his stomach, she puts him to bed immediately.

He's gone in about two seconds, softly snoring as she takes off her clothes.

She takes a quick shower in his bathroom and grabs a t-shirt of his after to put on, and lies down next to him in his bed.

He turns in his sleep, reaches with his hand and immediately grabs her hand tightly for comfort, probably dreaming she's someone else. Making her heart squeeze in pain for him.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

"Can't tell if you love or hate me; never met someone like that."

Louis breathes out, leaning his arms down on his knees. "My god. Give me a minute, please."

Stella laughs, a warm hearty laugh. "Good lord, you're even worse than I thought."

"I'm not. I'm just out of shape okay." Louis pants, his gasp for air turning into a cough. "Damn, it's been a while."

"Yeah right," Stella grins, throwing the ball at his chest, making him catch it mid air.

They're playing padel at the local court, Louis of course on Stella's invitation. Because imagine Louis ever coming up with such an idea.

A few weeks ago he'd loosely mentioned wanting to work on himself, trying to better his health and physical condition. And the time after that, for days on end, Stella had nagged him about coming with her to her favorite sport club to do padel together.

So tonight it's finally time for them to play. Even though he didn't feel the best, with feeling a starting cold and a back ache, after his dinner Louis had put on a track suit and went on a walk through the park to pick her up so they could go to the padel court together.

Honestly, he really appreciates her effort to get him out there and working on himself again. He had been feeling very very lonely for a while and she's helping him appreciate what he has and making him feel less lonely. And she's the prime example of what he has, her friendship.

"Honestly, I've never felt so tired, for fucks sake Stella." He tries to catch his breath again, the cold air hitting his hot lungs as he lazily throws the ball back. "Are we having a break already?"

She dismissively shakes her head as she catches the ball and neatly swings it back to his side of the court making him run for it.

"Keep up." She grins. "I'll beat your sick ass."

"Sure." Louis grins as he passes the ball back.

A while they just play in silence, until Stella speaks up. "Have you heard anything?"

Knowing immediately what she's talking about Louis rolls his eyes. "Nope. I'm not even sure he's alive, he could've been fatally hit by a tractor or something."

"Have you reached out?" She asks, running across the court to catch his ball.

"Nah. I'm not a beggar. He knows where I'm at and he is the one who left, not me. It's been weeks and the least he could've done is let me know he's travelled safe to his mother's, but he didn't so apparently I shouldn't care about his safety."

If she'd only know how his hands itch at night to send a text, to press call or just to check his online status on WhatsApp.

For a bit they just play the ball back and forth, until Louis walks over and yanks Stella's racket out of her hands. "Time for drinks. I need some whiskey to burn my throat ache away."

"I can't." Stella then hesitates, clearly debating her life choices at the moment and weighing her options. "I have to run some errands."

"That's fine." Louis nods, stretching his arms above his head and yawning excessively. "I'll just go home then, I think. If you want you can come to mine after? Watch a movie?"

"Sure." Stella smiles, "I'll be at yours in an hour or two so, it won't take that long. Can I shower at yours? I do have a change of clothes with me but otherwise I'd have to go home and then go to yours and you know, thats too much for my tired ass right now."

Louis rolls his eyes, as if she wouldn't already know his answer. "Yeah, of course."

"Okay!" She hugs him and waves when she hurries off the court.
-

A while later Louis steps out of the shower, actually feeling a little better than he did earlier today. His cold is still coming in but his headache has subsided a little.

One upside from Harry's sudden leave, Louis loves being able to actually use his apartment again, he thinks, as he throws a few fleece blankets onto the couch and lights some candles (those are Harry's but oh well), preparing the room to be comfortable staying in with Stella tonight.

He hadn't been using the shared rooms a lot as they had tried their hardest to avoid each other. Louis basically had been paying rent for only his use of his bed- and bathroom.

He puts on a random podcast and lays down on the couch. He closes his eyes, tries to just listen to the voices talking about cold cases in England.

Before he actually knows it, he dozes off into a deep sleep, comfortably wrapped in the blankets he had spread out.

His asleep-mind immediately takes him to places where awake-Louis doesn't dare to go so easily.

Harry.

Harry again.

And again, Harry.

Everything in him yearns for Harry. His stomach feels heavy as he tries to catch Harry, as he's fleeting, but recurring, image in the corners of his dreams. He tries to run to catch up with him, but every time he seems close to Harry he reaches out and the image vanishes. Only to show up on the opposite side again.

It's tiring. It's draining. It's completely sucking out all the energy he has left.

But at least he's able to see him.

Louis freezes when he's woken up by a hand shaking his shoulder, the room so dark he can't see who it is. Harry?

"Hey." A soft feminine voice whispers. Stella. "I'm hopping in the shower real quick. You okay?"

"Yeah." Louis hoarsely whispers.

But he is not, though. He hates that his subconscious mind constantly reminds him of Harry. It's a painful dream, but it's an even more gut wrenching pain to wake up and have reality hit you.

It's a similar feeling to stepping in an ice bath after having been in a hot bath.

It's like that feeling of accidentally biting down on your cutlery and scraping your teeth with the metal.

It's a feeling probably worse than kidney stones.

Louis forces his eyes open, not wanting to drown in his dreams any more. Grabbing his phone he starts playing a game to distract himself until Stella's ready to watch a movie.

He puts on a few small lights in the room, creating a cozy warm atmosphere.

But the memories of the existence of Harry linger, they are wrapped around his heart, closing around his lungs, curling around his throat.

They wrap tighter and tighter around his throat, cutting off any healthy thought circulation to his brain until the only thing on his mind is Harry.

Louis despises himself. He hates hates hates himself for feeling like he does.

He doesn't want to think about him. He hates him, right? Harry leaving him like that showed him how he feels about Louis, there's no reason in believing his feelings for Louis are any different from any friendship.

Louis knows he's holding on to the time they spent together at the cabin, even though it had ended different than expected with their struggles, the time they had been there with just the two of them. It was magical.

He knows he's holding on to an image of him in his head which might not be close to reality.

But it is strangely comforting to feel something again.

-

"I'm done." Stella announces and tiptoes through his living room towards the couch. "The floor is so cold, I should've taken my slippers with me."

Louis grimaces, "I have socks you can borrow, they're in the left top drawer of my closet."

She spins around and runs towards his room. A faint "thank god" is heard somewhere around the house.

Louis gets up to prepare some tea for them, he debates to spike their teas with whiskey but he decides against it. His headache is already fine as it is.

"Un thé chaud avec lait pour madame." Louis presents his tea to Stella. (probably making the whole country of France rebel against him with his horrible accent, if you'd listen closely you might hear upset french citizens in the background)

"Gosh, dearest, that looks exquisite." She laughs, "I didn't know you could speak french, my dear."

"Oh," Louis shrugs, "It's one of the many great things I'm able to do."

Stella grins into her cup of tea, while sending him a playful flirtatious wink. "Sure. Care to show me later in the bedroom, babe?"

"Not sure if you're ready for my dirty talk."

She bursts out laughing, "Oh please no, you better reserve that talk for someone else."

Louis bites away a grin and grabs the remote, "What are you in the mood for? Romance.. Drama?"

"Please no more drama in my life. I've had enough of it already."

"Right, me as well. We can maybe start watching a series together?"

"Oh yeah, great idea. I heard The Resident is really good and one of the guy main characters is nice to look at as well.." Stella bites her lip, "Let's watch that."

As soon as the first episode starts Louis has to agree with her. The guy named Conrad is actually really nice to look at.

"Stella?" Louis randomly pauses the episode and looks up at her from where his head is positioned on her lap.

"Yeah?" She quirks an eyebrow, her hands mindlessly running through his hair.

"Please don't leave me. You're the best thing that had happened to me."

"Mmm." Stella hums, "You know I won't."

"Good." He unpauses the episode again, turning his head towards the screen but almost immediately closing his eyes again. With Stella running her fingers through his hair, and distant memories of Harry playing in his mind, it doesn't feel so real that he's left.

Stella looks down at him again, knowing he isn't watching the series. She softly lets out a sigh. It pains her to know what he's thinking about. She hates the fact he's beating himself up over and over again.

She decided she'll try with everything in her power to distract him from Harry. Louis is such a kind soul, he doesn't deserve to feel like this over such an asshole.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

"Oh, I gave you everything that I couldn't afford to lose. Now I pulled myself together and you come out of the blue. Taking all the better parts of me is all you ever do. Now the second I found something good, I know that you're gonna want that too."

Louis curses under his breath and turns around in his bed for the umpteenth time tonight, careful as he doesn't want to wake Stella, who's asleep next to him.

His headache is a little too loud in his head and his eyes —even when closed— send bright pops of colors into his brain. His neck aches from the switching positions every three seconds and his whole body feels like it's pulling downwards with so much g-force he feels like he's gonna explode.

Honestly, Louis doesn't even know what to do anymore. Nothing fucking works. Nothing will work.

Lately he's been working hard on himself, working out in the gym with Stella and occasionally joining her at the padel court as well.

They've been eating a lot together after working out, so he's finally eating a lot more healthy than he's used to. They've actually been keeping track of the nutrients, so they get the best balanced diet as possible.

He's resting more, having managed to have a better schedule at work as well. (His crew loves him for it as they've managed to put their usual hours of labor into less hours for the same pay.)

Sure, he didn't want anything to do with any of it at first but his curiosity (and Stella's nagging) had won. And he had to admit this all had actually changed his life for the better.

The migraines had been a little less frequently lately, until this week as they've been coming back in full force again.

The reason he, yet again, can't sleep is the fact that there's been maintenance guys in their flat a few days ago. They hadn't been there to fix things like the thermostat or something, no, to fucking soundproof Harry's room again.

What does it mean??? Is he coming back? Is he going to rent it out to some garage band? Did the landlord find out Harry's been gone and did he need to prep the room for the next owner? Did Harry give up his room?

He needs to know.

It's been eating at him for days. It's been breaking his brain. It's causing him so much stress.

Stella told him to stop worrying and tried to take his mind off of it but it didn't work. He hasn't been sleeping well after the day they stopped by.

He's repeatedly been fidgeting with his phone for the past few days, debating whether to text Harry about it or not.

But he still hasn't dared to. He doesn't necessarily think it would be weird to send a message about it, in the end it's the flat of both of them and he has a right to know what's going on. But the fact it could make Harry assume things is scaring him off.

He really doesn't want to let Harry assume Louis still cares about him or anything that he does.

It's been around 3 and a half months now without any sign of life, Harry doesn't deserve to know anything about Louis anymore.

Louis sighs and turns again, now lying down on his back, staring at the ceiling.

Deep down he may be jealous of Harry. Jealous because he has power over Louis and Louis is too weak to go against that power.

He most definitely doesn't have any power over Harry. Most likely the man has already moved on with his life, doing God knows what in his hometown.

He doesn't even think about Louis anymore. None of it had meant anything to Harry. None of it. He couldn't care less about Louis.

Louis' eyes burn, as he bites back a groan. He despises himself for feeding his thoughts.

In daylight his feelings and thoughts seem bordeline silly. Daylight makes it feel less threatening.

But now at night, in the dark, they're feeling very real. Very dangerous, very threatening.

Frustrated he opens his phone, but no new notifications show up. He makes the very smart decision to open the chat with Harry, rereading the last few messages again, the ones they had exchanged a few days after Christmas.

H. I'll be home in an hour, want to watch something with me? I'll get your fav snacks

Louis eagerly had replied, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside by the fact Harry had wanted to spend the night with him.

L. yes please, see you in an hour!

H. Missed you. Can't wait to watch our series. >:)

Louis hadn't replied to Harry after that, but he'd been home within the hour. He came home to a dimly lit living room, plaids spread out on the couch and their favorite show ready to watch.

They had spent the night together snuggled up, watching a lot of episodes of the show they'd been watching together.

Somewhere around the third episode Louis had complained about his neck feeling stiff and Harry had insisted to massage Louis' neck and shoulders, making him sit on the floor between his legs without a shirt on.

He had worked his hands through his hair first, slightly applying pressure with his fingers to Louis' scalp, making his eyes roll back with a sigh. Harry was amazing at that.

Harry then worked his way down to Louis' neck and shoulders, making him let out an approving sound from the back of his throat a few times. He noticed a slight pause in his movement but barely noticable because Harry just kept going.

Harry's hands had felt amazing on his bare skin, his warm hands leaving burns all over Louis' slightly colder skin. A light draft had created goose bumps on his skin, or was it the passion Harry had massaged him with?

Harry slid his hands up his neck, into his hair again. Him massaging his head like that felt so heavenly, a shiver went down his spine.

Louis had let out a slight moan at the movement, which made Harry's hands stop dead in their tracks.

"Louis." His voice sounded hoarse.

"Yeah?" Louis had asked, sighing at the fact Harry had removed his hands from his skin. Leaving him longing for more.

"Stop it." Harry groaned, sounding annoyed.

"What?" Louis had tried to turn halfway around but Harry had pushed his head back forward.

"Fucking turning me on."

-

Louis frustratedly grits his teeth, slamming his phone against his forehead a few times before throwing it across the room.

Fucking damn it.

If he believed in voodoo, he would now be one hundred percent sure that Harry had a doll of him.

Torturing him with these thoughts? Inhumane. Cruel. Hateful. The fucking worst.

"Lou." Stella sighs, definitely woken up by his phone crashing into the wall. "You're thinking about him aren't you?"

"I don't fucking want to." Louis bitterly whispers, fighting against his tears. "I hate him."

"Also, sorry for waking you up. I'm a mess right now."

Stella grabbed his hand, softly caressing it with her thumb. "It's okay. What's going on Lou?"

"I don't know, Stel, I really don't fucking know." He bit his lip, covering his eyes with one hand, feeling completely, utterly drained. "The second I think I'm over him, he pulls some voodoo shit on me and makes me realize I'm not."

"I know Louis, it's okay." Stella whispers, "Talk to me about, it'll be good for you."

"There's really nothing to talk about, I think?" He hesitates on the last two words, "I really fucking hate this stupid shit."

He hears her hum, allowing him to continue without interrupting, suddenly finding the words. "It's been three fucking months and I'm still stuck up on him. I need him but at the same time I really really don't. I want to fucking hate him but you know I don't.

"And now with the maintenance guys. What is going on? Is he coming back? Is he moving away permanently? I hear nothing from him but I think he forgets I live here too. I have a right to know these things, right?"

Stella nods, her hair making a noise on the pillow. "I think so, yeah."

"He's fucking messing with my head." Louis continues, anger lacing his voice. "I shouldn't have let him get to me. I'm sure he knew he would leave after the holidays. He might have a whole boyfriend I know nothing about, hell, he might even have a girlfriend. I know next to nothing about him in that way. I don't have to feel like I deserve to know anything about him, because I don't. We're nothing.

"As I've told you, I actually hated him before I got to know him. And now he's all I think about. He's everywhere. In my clothes, my bathroom, the livingroom, my work. I randomly smell his cologne. I hear his voice on the streets. I keep running from it but he always catches up with me."

There's a moment of silence between them.

"Stella?" He then shakily breathes out, realization dawning upon him. The feeling of impending doom tightening his chest.

"Yes?" Her soft voice reassures him to speak his thoughts.

"I think I might be in love with him."

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

And then, all of a sudden, the day had come.

The day he'd been dreading and so desperately longing for all at once.

As soon as he opened the door and stepped in the hallway, he'd known. Immediately.

Everything felt different, there was this unexplainable shift in the athmosphere that made him hyper aware of it. He's a thousand percent sure of it.

Harry is back.

His ever so dominant presence weighing down the air around him.

Louis just stands there frozen in the hallway, his heart thumps in his ears. His keys on the ground where they had slipped out of his hands a moment earlier.

He shifts his lower jaw left and right, grinding his teeth. A habit he had picked up earlier out of stress. Unable to move his body his eyes flicker around, noticing every little thing that seemingly is different now.

There's a jacket on the coat rack, a pair of shoes on the floor neatly tucked aside. The faint smell of his cologne lingers around.

What the fuck does he do now?

"Louis?" A very, very, very familiar voice calls out. "Are you there?"

Yes. In fact yes, he's there. But also not? What the fuck? What is going on? What does he do?

Louis bows down to grab his keys and puts them in his pocket.

He sucks in a sharp breath and straightens his back. He can do this.

As soon as he steps foot in the kitchen, Harry peeks around his bedroom door, his eyes brightening as soon as he lays eyes on Louis.. "Louis!" He happily exclaims. "How have you been?"

So happy for what.

Louis just stands there, eyes focused on Harry's figure, his own shoulders sagged down as the grocery bag weighs his hands down.

He can't believe this.

He cannot fucking believe this.

"Hello?" Harry has entered the kitchen area now, waving his hand in front of him while readjusting his glasses. "Earth to Louis?"

Louis scoffs, he's got to be kidding. He cannot be serious right now. Right?

He can't do this.

A sudden rage boiling up inside his body makes his legs finally be able to move. He throws the groceries on the countertop, not caring that the oranges he got roll out of the bag over the counter right onto the floor. He walks straight past Harry to his bedroom.

"Louis, wait." He hears Harry call out, most definitely following him.

Louis decides to wait a second, and of course, Harry's face shows up before him.

"Louis please," He pleads, a frown decorates his face. "Can we talk?"

He debates on spitting on the ground right in front of Harry's feet but decides against it and just slams the door shut so damn hard in Harry's face, the window in his room vibrates because of the sudden air pressure shift.

He leans his back against the door and gasps as his eyes start to burn a little.

What the fuck is going on.

What kind of prank is the universe pulling on him?

He slides down the door to sit down, his body starting to shake immensely.

He bites his tongue, trying to push back the tears. He pinches his skin, trying not to sob. He blinks as fast as he can to get rid of the excess water in his eyes and sniffles to try and avoid a runny nose.

But nothing works.

Tears stream down his face as he puts his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his sobs. He shakes violently as the crying takes over his body. He presses his fist against his mouth so hard it hurts, but it doesn't work to suppress the sounds.

A almost silent cry for help raises in his bedroom.  He violently sobs into his own arms.

Fuck, how much he wishes he had someone to cry into their arms instead of hurting alone like this.

Harry's so- He would- Harry is here.

He really is here. In all his dark curly haired glory. Taking up every occupied and non-occupied space in his head again.

Well, again.. it's not like the thought of Harry had really left his mind but he had just started to cope. A little.

Everything he fought so hard for to forget is back in full force.

Fuck. Louis hates himself. So desperate.

He slams the back of his head against the door a few times, the ache traveling through his brain to his forehead. A dull throbbing settling in his thoughts.

After a while he realizes Harry is pacing up and down the little hallway in front of his bedroom door. A soft knock then lands on the door.

"Louis?"

He bites his lip, not trusting his voice yet. He hums, letting Harry know he's heard him.

"Can we please talk?"

Honestly? Louis doesn't think Harry's comeback has anything to do with him. But he understands if he wants to make amends, they would have to live together for a while.

On one side he wants to say no.

He wants to scream in his face and push him out of a window.

He wants to hurt him as much as he's been hurt.

But then on the other side, what does he have to lose?

It's not like a conversation is going to change anything between them. It's clear Harry doesn't feel for Louis the same way Louis does (oh, how much he wishes he could say 'did') for Harry.

He could at least hear him out.

Louis forces himself up from the floor to grab a tissue from his bedside. He blows his nose, wipes his surely dark red rimmed eyes with his sleeve and untangles his hair a little.

Without a word he goes to open the door, knowing Harry will be waiting for him there.

And yes, he actually is. This time.

"Louis." Harry looks worried, "What is going on? Are you okay?"

"Don't bother," Louis cuts him off, walking around him, aiming for the kitchen table. "Tell me what you want to tell me."

Harry nods, sitting down on the other side of the kitchen table. He gestures towards his own cup of tea, "Did you want some?"

My lord. He can't even remember Louis is usually dying for a cup of hot tea after work.

"It's okay." Louis leans back in his chair, arms folded as he stares at Harry. Drinking in every detail of his movement instead of his tea.

"So.." He drags out, raising a brow. "Go on then, what'd you want to tell me? If you want to tell me anything at all, that is?"

A flash of an unfamiliar crosses Harry's face. Is it shame? Embarrassment?

"Louis." His name rolls off his lips like it's always belonged there.

"Yes." Louis bites out, "I have been waiting months so I guess you think a few more minutes won't hurt but I have got plans tonight so I'd be pleased if you hurry up."

"I'm sorry." Harry chokes out, not daring to look up at Louis but picking at the skin on his fingers instead.

Louis just stares at him, waiting for him to continue talking.

He notices Harry's hair has gotten lighter in a few spots, as if he's been outside in the sun a lot. He notices a few freckles on his jaw that weren't there before. Harry's skin looks sun kissed overall, which is weird, because Louis hasn't seen the sun in ages. It's been a rainy spring here.

But what he said, it's been months. For all he knows Harry's been living in the damn Philippines since leaving.

He notices Harry has gotten different glasses, he exchanged the thick rimmed ones for a more subtle gold frame. They look good on him. They are giving him a sophisticated look.

"How's your mother?" Louis asks, taking the lead as there's nothing coming from Harry.

He perks up, eyes shooting up and flickering over Louis' face as if to see he's sarcastic or if he means it.

"She's good, thank god!" He sighs, "But she, well, it wasn't-"

"Wasn't the reason you left?"

Louis may look like it but he is not stupid.

"No." Harry sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, "She wasn't."

"Then what, Harry? What was the reason? I thought you felt comfortable enough with me to tell me anything that was going on?"

Harry takes a deep breath, before blurting out the answer. "It was too much."

Fucking what?

"What?"

"It was too much Louis, I couldn't do it anymore."

"Fucking what was too much?" Louis throws his hands up in exasperation, "Was I too much? Were we too much?"

"I don't know, maybe everything."

What the actual fuck is he talking about.

"Harry, what the hell do you mean?"

Harry then takes off his glasses and puts them on the table. "I don't actually know Louis," He shoots back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If I fucking knew I would tell you."

"Sure." Louis scoffs, "Of course."

"You have to believe me. I've been away to figure it out but I couldn't."

"Yeah, definitely, sure!" Louis sarcastically smiles at him, "You've fucking hurt me, a lot, again."

Harry nods, almost timidly.

So, he knows.

"So you better tell me what's going on or I'm going to my room to get ready for tonight because frankly, I'm quite done with this conversation not going anywhere."

"As I said I'm not sure, everything was just too much."

"Yeah but then what was too much? Was it less 'too much' when you were away? Because if so, then it's fucking probably me." Louis grits through his teeth, getting fed up with the whole situation.

Look at Harry acting all stupid. 'Too much.' Good lord.

"It wasn't you Louis," Harry softly says, locking eyes with Louis. "I've actually missed you, a lot."

Louis frowns at that comment, a little taken aback. He has missed Louis? Sure.

"I've noticed yeah." Louis rolls his eyes, standing up, getting ready to leave the room. "My phone couldn't shut up because of the notifications I got from your texts and calls."

A silence falls between them but not for long, Louis finally feels he can touch the subject that has hurt him the most. He looks down on Harry's sorrowful figure.

"One fucking text Harry, one fucking text was already too much to ask?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah you already said that. But it's not gonna change anything if the next time you're gone is gonna be the exact same, is it? Because Harry," Louis almost chokes on his words, especially with the speed they're coming out of his mouth. "You have to know, I can't fucking do that again. If you're here to treat me like I mean something to you and then leave like I never did.. I'll gladly pass on that."

"It's not like that Louis," Harry stands up as well, closing the small distance between them until they're almost touching. "I've really missed you," He breathes out, bringing up his arm to touch Louis face but he hesitates, leaving his arm dangling to his side.

"Then why did you fucking leave? Why haven't you let me know anything? It's been months Harry, months."

"Because I didn't know what to do. I couldn't deal with the things I had to deal with okay? I felt too much and too little at the same time. I wanted to make sure the things I felt were the things I actually felt and not things I made up in my mind. You have to know I care about you, Louis. I really really do. But I had to take some time off to get my mind straight about us."

"So why didn't you tell me? You know I care about you, I've been worried as hell and beating myself up over it the last few months. You could've at least told me something, right?"

"Because I couldn't Louis. Because I fucking could not."

Louis backs away a little, creating some space between the two of them. "Why though?" His voice soft, barely above a whisper.

Harry grabs both his wrists in a rushed manner, a pleading look on his face as he vomits out the words. "Because how could I tell you I care so much about you that I would seriously take a bullet for you? How could I tell you that I got scared by the amount of different things I felt for you? How the hell would you expect me to tell you that I literally couldn't sleep for weeks when I arrived at my mom's, just because you weren't there? How would I tell you, that even when I tried to forget you, that in my dreams you haunt me? How, Louis, how the fuck do you expect me to tell you what I feel when I don't even fucking know it myself? God, I wish I knew."

Louis blinks, looking up at Harry, unable to mutter a single word.

"Yeah." Harry scoffs as he lets go of Louis wrists, awkwardly adjusting the hem of his shirt after. "I should've treated you differently and I'm really truly sorry for that. I was gonna text, but I didn't know how to write you something that didn't hold so much emotion because the second I got on that train I wanted to go back. Then I thought I'll text when I'm settled a little more, but that time didn't come. And then I got too scared about what you'd think so I didn't text at all."

"Fuck Louis," He adds, "If you only knew how much you're on my mind. I tried to convince myself you don't care the same about me but I needed you to know that I do. That I care so damn much about you it's eating me alive."

Louis still stands there, just trying to comprehend the waterfall of words Harry just spit out.

Harry grabs Louis' hands, shaking them a little. "Please Lou...say something."

"I- Uh," Louis stammers, not sure how he can get his voice to create the words he wants. "Harry I-"

"Just say anything really." He pleads, letting go of his hands again.

"Harry, I- I thought I lost you. I searched for so long to find any clues as to why you'd leave me like that, but I didn't find anything but me. I felt like I'd made you leave."

Harry's eyes shine in the soft light of the kitchen area, "I know, I'm so sorry."

"I really really want you to know that the things you did affected me so much. So fucking much. I started to question everything I once believed to be true. I'm gonna need some time."

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Louis frowns deep in thought the whole way to the park where he's supposed to meet up with Stella for a run.

He just left the apartment where Harry still was as well. And for once he didn't feel so eager to return home, whereas a few months ago he didn't even have a different social life apart from Harry.

"Hi you," Stella smiles as she turns up jogging next to him, her hair tied up in a tight ponytail, clearly very ready to go for their run. "How was today?"

Louis bites his lip, stopping at a nearby bench to start stretching his legs, "You don't want to know what happened, or well, better said: you won't believe what the fuck happened."

Stella starts jumping up and down, spreading her arms out as she goes up, and closing them as she lands on the ground. Looks dumb, but works like a charm to get into running mode. "I already believe you, you look like shit, what happened?"

Ah he loves her honesty.

He put his foot up the bench and stretches his toes up towards his leg, giving his hamstrings a nice tug. "Harry is back."

Stella stops moving immediately, her arms falling to her sides. "Repeat that?" She pants, a little out of breath.

"Harry is back." Louis turns around to sit down, and bends over so he can redo his shoelaces. "He was just there when I came back from work."

Stella pulls off her hoodie and ties it around her waist, and starts jumping up and down again. "Wait, you are serious. What did he say?"

"Yeah I'm serious." Louis half assed rolls his eyes and grins at her, "Why would I joke about this when I'm already feeling like the joke in this whole situation."

"Fair enough."

For a moment they're silent as they put on their watches to track their speed and activity, then they start running in a slow pace next to each other.

"So, what did he say?" Stella asks again, "Should I go straight to your house and beat him up?"

Louis laughs, shoving her aside playfully. "Yeah, he's two times as big as you but I would love to see that."

"I'm not kidding," She sticks her chin out and puts her shoulders back, "I would do it for you Louis."

"I know, I know," He chuckles, already feeling less weighed down because of her good vibe. He loves being friends with her. "But actually he-"

He stops again, having to retie his shoelaces once more. "These damn laces."

He jumps up, getting in stride with Stella again. "He apologized."

From his peripheral vision he notices Stella raising her brows in unbelief. "And?"

"And we talked about it."

"And? What was his reason? Did you accept his apology?"

Louis slows down, tugging on her arm making her stop as well.

"No I didn't really accept his apology yet. I said I need some time."

"Good." She mumbles.

"He said he missed me. Missed us." Louis bites his inner cheek, as he wanted to continue talking. "Fuck ow."

Stella looks over concernedly until she sees he's just holding his cheek. "Okay? So then why did he leave?"

Louis takes a deep breath, "I- He said everything got too much for him. We got too much. I'm not sure how to deal with it yet but he also said that his feelings for me and for us got in the way. He wanted to make sure it was real and not just a mind fuck of his."

They pick up their pace again and silence falls between them for a while.

They run through the park for a few kilometers as it darkens outside and they only slow down again as soon as they see their favorite hangout spot in front of a big pond. It's become a good spot to just sit, rest and hang out for them, especially after a run.

It's easily accessible through the park yet it's almost always abandoned. The only visiters are some ducks and birds.

Stella coughs, clearly indicating she's impatiently waiting on Louis to continue his story.

"Let's sit." Louis gestures towards 'their' bench.

Sitting down he deeply inhales the crisp night air, tilting his head back to look up at the stars. "Damn. I feel like death and a newborn again at the same time. I needed this run."

A soft "Lord yes." next to him indicates that Stella needed it desperately as well. He makes a mental note to ask her how her day was as soon as they're done talking about him because he doesn't only want to have the attention, and he's actually interested in what she has going on.

"Can I just ask something?" Stella breathes out, waiting for Louis to nod before she continues. "You've always said he's big on communication, so what was the reasoning behind his lack of communication here? Like, he literally could've told you he was leaving to figure things out between the two of you, but he chose to lie about his mother?"

Louis hesitates, "Honestly? I'm not so sure. He said he wanted to text, but didn't because the more time had gone on he felt more scared to do it. I just feel fucked up about it, because I'm sure he has got to have known how much I care about him."

"He also said that he cares so much about me and that that was part of the reason. I told him how much all of that affected me, and he seemed truly apologetic about it. I understand his reasoning to a certain extent but not all of it. I would've been fine with literally just one fucking text with an explanation as to why he wouldn't be contacting me anymore for the time being. I wouldn't have liked it but I would've understood it. Does that make sense?"

"It does." Stella nods, "I've seen you live through it and I hated it Lou. It affected you a whole lot and I'm glad you're taking some time to think before you'll answer him."

Louis smiles at her, and lays his head down on her shoulder for a minute. "So glad to have you Stel. And now please tell me how your day was."

Stella laughs, "Okay then brace yourself, it's not nearly as 'exciting' as your story. Just some things at work."

He rolls his eyes, "So? That doesn't mean I'm not still interested."

After a while of just talking about their lives, talking shit about a lot of people and in the end even just sitting there in silence, they finally make their way out of the park. The lanterns shine their light onto the two of them as they hug each other goodbye in front on Stella's apartment.

"Keep me updated on case H, Lou." Stella warns, before teasingly pouting up at him. "By the way, get me the number of your coworker you talked shit about, he sounds hot."

"Oh shut up." Louis shoves her inside the open door and blows her a kiss through the window. "Love you, bye."

He sees her roll her eyes at him but he just grins back at her.

His heart feels warm as he makes his way home through the city. He's so glad to have someone like her, he hopes someday the universe will make luck find her again and bring her an amazing life partner as well. And he'll do everything he can to help the universe with that.

As soon as he walks around the corner onto their street, his stomach sinks. He just knows that Harry will be waiting up for him.

But he's not ready to talk to Harry about it again. Not yet, at least.

He puts his key into the lock and opens the door as memories from this afternoon flash through his mind.

Fuck this shit.

He throws his keys on the table in the kitchen and grabs the kettle to make himself some tea.

As he pours the hot water into his mug he hears a door creak behind him. Definitely Harry's bedroom door. He automatically grabs Harry's signature mug and pours him some water as well before putting a tea bag in it.

Sitting down on his usual side at the table, he gently pushes Harry's mug towards him. "Here you go."

Harry's face lights up as he grabs the mug, clearly not expecting it. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Louis mumbles before grabbing his phone to text Stella he's home safe. She always insists on it, so rather he'd let her know than have her be worried all night.

"How did your run go?"

"Good." Louis absentmindedly replies while scrolling through his phone, not bothering to look up at Harry.

After a moment he shuts down his phone and stands up. "Gonna shower and then go to bed, goodnight."

Something in Harry's demeanor changes as Louis lets his gaze lazily trail over his face for just a moment too long, before grabbing his tea. Harry seems taken aback by Louis dominant behavior, like he's not used to the Louis that really lets him know that he's not tolerating any bullshit anymore.

That's good, Louis thinks to himself as he walks over to his room, he's gladly going to let him sweat it a little.

Once in the shower he feels the hot water run down his back, immediately relaxing from the soothing feeling. He is just enjoying standing there, letting the warmth engulf his body before his mind races to his conversation with Harry again.

"Fuck it." Louis breathes out, cursing some more while shutting off the shower. Being alone with his thoughts is not what he wants right now. Not what he needs.

Deep down he already knows he'll forgive Harry. Maybe he already forgave him.

But he's been hurt, a whole damn lot. And he wants to make him feel for what he did. But he also hates having this kind of unfinished business between them. He wants this shit to be over and go back to how they were before.

He knows that it won't be that easy as there have happened too many things between them. But they might as well try to get along for the time being.

He quickly dries himself off and puts on his boxers and sweats, not bothering to put on a shirt as he'll be going to bed soon anyway.

He grabs the now empty mug to go refill it. As he enters the kitchen he finds Harry sitting there, in the exact same position he'd left him in. Louis takes a bee line for the counter and prepares another cup of tea for himself. As he's turned away from Harry, he feels eyes burning in his back.

"Can we talk?" Harry's voice sounds hoarse, like he's been sleeping.

Louis purses his lips and turns around, leaning against the counter, still dipping the tea bag up and down into the water, "Well, that depends. What do you want to talk about, Harry?"

Harry looks up at him, a pained expression on his face as his eyes travel up and down his bare chest. "Louis, I have to know if we're okay."

Louis sighs, he hates this. "Harry.."

"I know," Harry replies, leaning his head into his hands.  "I know what you said."

"Then why bother asking? You have been gone for months Harry, you left me in the dark as to why you really left. It's not fixed in one afternoon and one apology." Louis groans, "I wish I could give you a better answer, but truth is that I don't even know what to think right now."

Harry nods, his eyes scanning Louis' face intently as he continues talking.

"I am not going to let you treat me like that, have me hate you for months and then barge back into my life without any clear explanations but just some things in which I still feel like you're blaming me for you feeling a certain way."

"I gave you an explanation," Harry mutters, fiddling with his hands. "Everything I told you was true. And I don't blame you for my feelings."

"Yeah, everything you told me today Harry, today. But today doesn't take away all the things from the past. I need some more time to think about everything. I can’t immediately move on from everything.”

"I understand." Harry says, his voice soft. Suddenly he seems years younger, more innocent and Louis hates that he feels sorry for Harry right now. That he feels sorry for the fact he can't make everything okay for him right now.

That image of Harry sitting there, clearly feeling lost and in a mood, it's tugging on Louis' heart, making him want to walk over to Harry and hug all the pain away. Kiss all the pain away.

Because yes, he understands his point of view. He knows underneath all of it Harry's got to be hurting as well. The past few month can't have been easy on him either. But Louis himself is not ready. Not yet.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

As a few weeks have passed by, Louis finally feels a little less like he's the one intruding in their home when he gets back after work.

He's of course been home alone for the past few months so having someone in his space again takes some getting used to.

He hasn't necessarily ran into Harry a lot these days, but he's noticed he's there. He's noticed the dishes he always leaves in the sink after his breakfast are washed when he comes home, he's noticed the shower being recently used by the humidity in there when he stepped into it himself and he's noticed this damn heavy pressure on his stomach only from the knowledge that Harry is back.

So overall, he hasn't spoken to him a lot. He's mostly been in his room, Louis thinks, he's not sure, he didn't hear anything that pointed towards Harry being there.

Maybe the soundproofing finally worked.

They've been eating together a few times but Louis left quickly after as he had plans together with Stella or some of their mutual friends.

Today isn't really different, he comes home, makes himself tea and prepares a cup for Harry as well which he'll put out on the kitchen table for him. He hasn't seen him drinking it but every time he leaves the room it's gone by the time he's back.

Louis walks over to their living room area and plops down on the sofa, making sure he doesn't spill the tea on his sweater. He opens his phone, to just scroll through it for a bit.

Harry almost instantly peeks around the corner of his bedroom, his gold rimmed glasses shining in the lights. "Hey."

"Harry," Louis looks up from his phone, a bit surprised to be honest at Harry coming forward like this. "What's up?"

"Nothing much, you?"

God do they sound like they're in high-school, texting.

Louis lazily grins, stretching out his arms leaning back into the sofa. "Not much right now, as you can see, just mentally preparing myself as I'm going out tonight with some friends."

"Oh," Harry walks over to sit down on the other side of the sofa. "That sounds fun, with who?"

Louis realizes Harry doesn't know anything about them, as he met them over the past few months. It feels like they've been living two complete lives without each other.

He nods, it's definitely going to be fun, "My friend Stella needed a few drinks so she'll drag me along and I think her friend Luke will also be there and maybe some of his friends as well."

Where Harry was looking interested at the name Stella, now that Louis mentioned Luke, and his friends, he's even more interested..

"Oh okay," Harry nods, crossing his legs onto the couch. A weird type of tension falling between them.

Louis averts his eyes back to his phone, before realizing something and looking back over to Harry. "By the way, is there any way I can borrow that one black shirt from you? The one with the sparkly buttons?"

His request clearly catches Harry off guard, he's looking at Louis with a big question mark above his head. "Sure?"

"Or did you want to wear it?" Louis asks, a little taken aback by the hesitance of Harry.

"No no, it's fine."

"You sure? I can wear something else if you want."

Harry might like the idea of that, if possible, as little 'something else' as possible. His eyes are set on Louis' face as his teeth sink into his bottom lip, a small smirk playing on his face. "Are you trying to impress someone?"

"What? No." Louis scrunches his nose up, as if it's a completely ridiculous question coming from Harry. "Just want to look good."

"Uh-huh." Harry sarcastically nods, "Right."

As Harry then retreats into his room to grab the shirt, an idea pops into Louis' head.

"Hey, Harry?" Louis calls out, still lying on the couch.

"Yeah?" Harry shouts back from what sounds like miles away. Harry immediately makes his way back to the living room with the shirt in his hand, clearly very interested in what Louis has to say.

"I have a proposal."

"What?" He eyes Louis suspiciously as he leans back against the wall, throwing the shirt at him.

"You can come with if you'd like?"

Oh.

A question Harry for sure didn't expect.

"You want me to come with?" He asks, adjusting his glasses as if to see better what Louis is saying.

"That's what I just said, yeah." Louis nonchalantly says, as if it's the most natural question ever to ask for him. As if it isn't because Stella pushed him to do it just now when they were texting.

"I- Uh, yeah I guess? Yeah." Harry stammers, "Are your friends okay with that?"

"Yeah Stella's fine with it, she wanted to meet you as well."

"Does she know me?"

"Through my stories, yeah." Louis says, standing up to start getting ready.

Oh. Harry hesitates a little. "So she knows what I did?"

"Yes Harry," Louis looks at him like he's just degraded Harry to being a toddler. "She knows all of it. And no, she won't attack you for it. Yet."

He laughs at Harry's scared face and when he walks past him to get into his room he playfully pushes him a little. "C'mon Harry. It'll be fun."

"Okay then." Harry says, still looking like he'll have to bungee jump from the moon in an hour.

-

Louis and Harry make their way to the bar together calmly, after Harry scolded Louis for changing pants for a thousand times within ten minutes.

"I just want to feel good." Louis had muttered while finally settling on a black straight legged jeans.

To be honest, Louis thinks it's kind of funny that Harry is in such a mood. He is scared of what the others will think about him when they've heard about him from Louis.

And he gets that, but he kind of loves that he gets to make Harry feel this way.

"Soo," Louis drags out the word, having to suppress his smirk a little. "You ready to meet them?"

Harry rolls his eyes, "I guess."

"You're nervous as hell." Louis points out, "You've been closing and reopening the zipper of your jacket twenty times in the last minute."

"Okay, yeah I am. And what about it?" Harry bites back, "They know me through your story, so I guess they have a colored vision of me."

"I didn't speak to them about it, only Stella knows." Louis calmly says, "And I just told her the truth, nothing less and nothing more."

Harry just nods.

-

As soon as they enter the bar they are greeted by Stella motioning them to come over and join them at their table.

They walk over and Harry feels like he’s being screened before entering a prison with all the eyes on him.

"Hi I'm Stella." Stella looks up at Harry from her seat as she extends her hand, clearly not impressed with what she's seeing.

Harry looks uncomfortable, his smile doesn't reach his eyes as he grabs her hand. "Harry."

"Yeah, figured at much as I know everyone else 'round the table here." She replies, rolling her eyes.

The three guys opposing her laugh at her joke and just look at Harry with anticipation.

"Okay enough.." Louis pushes her on her chair again and nudges Harry to go sit down next to her. He then bows down over her and whispers something in her ear. "Behave please, I'm gonna get us some drinks."

Harry sits down next to Stella, with on his other side one of the guys, who is sitting on the edge of the bench which curls around the table, Harry extends his hand and wants to introduce himself to the guy. But as soon as he opens his mouth to talk to him he notices the blonde guy is intently looking at someone. Harry turns his head to follow his gaze and sets upon Louis' retreating figure. Interesting.

He immediately closes his mouth and turns away from the guy, already low key annoyed with him.

Next to Luke are sitting two guys as well, either of which nods at Harry and the left one, a brunette and smiley guy, introduces them both. "That's Michael,” He points his thumb towards the pink haired guy next to him. “And I'm Niall."

“Nice to meet you both.” Harry nervously nods, not knowing how to compose himself. He’s feeling like he’s on stage on X-factor or something like that.

"So, Harry." Stella grins, definitely having seen Harry take notice of the blonde guy staring at Louis. "How are you doing?"

"Uh good, and you?" Harry absentmindedly asks back, his focus diverting between Louis ordering drinks and blonde guy next to him staring at Louis.

"I'm good as well." She laughs, then leaning over Harry to nudge the guy next to him. "Luke, stop it."

Ah. That's Luke.

Luke rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone from the table to continue texting or whatever he was doing before, "I wasn't doing anything."

Harry thinks otherwise. Lukes definitely got to be into Louis. The way he stared at him and biting his lip with it? Damn.

Even Harry doesn't look at Louis like that.. right?

Harry takes his time to have a look around the bar. It’s a cozy bar honestly, the interior almost giving a jazzy vibe. The lights are dimmed, creating an intriguing and mysterious atmosphere.

It’s crowded at this hour of the night and Harry expects it to get even more crowded as the time goes on.

A few moments later, which felt like an eternity for Harry, Louis returns to the table with the drinks. "I ordered you a mojito Harry, good?"

Yes. Yes. Very good. He craves the alcohol to take off the edge of tonight. He's feeling very uneasy without really being able to put his finger on why he's feeling like that.

Louis smiles at him while handing him his drink, looking real good in Harry’s shirt he must say. He rolled up the sleeves a bit so his veined underarms are visible. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

Louis then shuffles around Harry's chair and nudges Luke and the two others to move over a little on the bench so he can sit there next to Luke and have Harry on the other side.

They immediately engage in a conversation about something Harry can't quite understand because of the noise around them. He tries to follow what they’re dating but they are also sitting a little too close together for Harry's liking, and he can't focus on those two things at the same time.

Suddenly Luke bursts out laughing, telling Stella to call an ambulance. Harry perks up, seeing Louis put his finger into his mouth with a sour expression.

"What's going on?” He asks, leaning forward to hear their reply. He wants to be a part of their conversation but doesn't really know why.

"This dumbass gave himself a paper cut on the menu." Luke smirks as Louis gives him the finger. He rakes through Louis' hair with his fingers to mess it up and grabs his beer again.

Stella shakes her head at the both of them, then nudges Harry, "They seem to have fun."

"Yeah." Harry mumbles, trying to keep his mind off the fact that Luke put his arm on the backrest of the bench, behind Louis.

"What do you do Harry?" Stella asks, she sounds genuinely interested but Harry only finds her a bit annoying right now. Can't she see that he's busy looking at Louis and Luke at the moment?

He sighs, having to peel his eyes off of the both of them. He directs his attention on Stella and tries to ignore the others.

Moments later they're in an animated conversation together as well, strangely enough finding out that they're both into a certain type of art and like a few of the same artists. Stella's sincerity quickly puts Harry at ease. She's a good listener and talks with passion about her favorite things. He likes her, and he's grateful that Louis has such a good friend like her.

Michael and Niall seem to be in a deep conversation together but the times they join Harry and Stella’s conversation, they have nothing but nice things to add. Michael turns out being into art as well, and tells Harry he’s more than welcome to put up his art at the local gallery he’s the owner of.

They exchange numbers and Harry feels like he is possessing a prize when he puts his phone back into his pocket. He glances at Louis and finds the most genuine proud look on his face when Michael tells Louis he’s going to put up some of Harry’s art in his gallery.

Fuck.

They order a few rounds of drinks and Harry finally starts to feel a weird but happy bliss in his body. He laughs with them and dares to tune into their conversations a little more as well.

As much as he likes Stella and the two other guys, he dislikes Luke.

For no apparent reason, as Luke has been nothing but nice to him. He makes Louis laugh a whole lot and Louis seems to genuinely enjoy tonight. Which should make Harry happy as well.

But there's just something about Luke that Harry does not care for.

Honestly, Harry can't lie, Luke is very attractive. He has got dirty blonde perfect curls, which reach to his forehead. His eyes are a captivating blue and he's wearing a sort of silvery glitter eyeshadow which really makes them stand out. He's wearing a baby blue distressed sweater with dark jeans, really complementing his pale skin color.

It's just the easygoing, flirty way of his mannerisms that turns Harry off. Well, maybe it's more of the way he uses his flirty manners on Louis.

And maybe it’s also the way that Louis is going with him, seemingly having forgotten that Harry is also there.

Later that night the bar staff turns the music up louder and starts to remove the tables and chairs in the middle of the bar to create a dance floor.

Stella stands up immediately, "I need to dance. Harry, let's go."

Harry hesitates, but as he looks over to find Louis and Luke very close together and not paying attention to the rest of them, he decides he will dance with Stella.

"Okay then." He half heartedly grins, motioning for Michael en Niall to tag along as well. A knowing grin on Nialls face shows up as the both of them stand up to join them.

The time flies by as all of them dance together, Harry has a lot of fun dancing with Stella and honestly with a lot of people. The crowd is very easy going and everyone twirls around on the dance floor with everyone.

Harry and Stella share drinks while rotating and dancing around one another, Harry feeling so light and warm and buzzed. He loves it.

It isn’t until Harry’s sitting at the bar, completely out of breath, sipping on another cold alcoholic drink, that he notices Luke and Louis are dancing as well.

They hadn’t been on the dance floor a lot as they were having fun just sitting down, at least from what Harry saw when he had glanced over at them a few times while dancing.

They seem to be completely lost in each other, their bodies moving together as one. Luke’s hands are all over Louis’ body, fingers raking through his hair and trailing up and down towards his lower back. They move with the beat, bodies flush against each other, clearly only having eyes for one another.

Harry follows the movement of both of them intently, noticing Louis throwing his head back laughing from something Luke said in his ear. Luke letting his face linger a little too long in the nape of Louis’ neck.

Oh how Harry would love to peel Luke off of Louis.

Harry purses his lips, turning around to the bartender for a second to order a round of shots for himself.

“Hey you, whatcha looking so upset for?” Stella chips in as she twirls onto the bar stool next to him like a fairy.

“Nothing.” Harry grumbles, handing her half of the shots he ordered. “Here.”

Stella drinks the shots without even wincing just a little. Clearly a pro at drinking.

As soon as they’re done with the shots, Harry turns back around to face the two guys on the dance floor.

There are a lot of people there but he can only see the two of them.

Why did Louis make him come if he was going to be with another guy for the whole night?

“No way,” Stella claps in her hands, making Harry look over at her in annoyance.

“What?”

“You’re jealous.” She states as if it’s a known fact.

“I’m not.” Harry rolls his eyes at her, as if.

“You most definitely are. You should see your own face.”

Harry immediately turns his back to the dance floor again, awkwardly smiling at the bartender who just quirks a brow at him. “I’m not jealous.”

“You are. If looks could kill, one of them would be dead right now.”

“Not true.” Harry looks mortified, he didn’t look at them like that..he thinks..

Stella just laughs, clearly feeling like she’s right.

And honestly? She may be.

Harry hates hates hates seeing the two of them together like that. He wishes he were in Luke’s place, he wishes to be the one making Louis laugh, the one touching Louis.

But he also knows he can’t expect anything between the two of them anymore. He fucked up big time.

He didn’t know how to deal with his developing feelings for Louis so he literally fled the scene like the scaredy cat he is. He needs to be honest with Louis and explain the actual reason he left but he can’t get himself to do it. He’s hurt Louis so bad, but he himself is afraid of getting hurt like that as well.

He wishes it could be different though.

The bartender grabs a microphone and tells everyone to dance like they never have done before because this is going to be the last song of the night before they close out.

Harry and Stella make their way onto the dance floor again, Stella pushing Harry a little too close to Louis. Luke looks over and waves at them, Louis just smiles as Luke grabs his waist and tugs him to the other side of the dance floor again while dancing.

Leaving Harry on his own. Just standing there, in the middle of the floor, not dancing at all.

He’s just sending virtual daggers to Luke through his eyes as Stella sternly grabs Harry by his sleeve and drags him away from the dance floor. She pushes him onto a chair and slaps his arm. “What the fuck Harry. Can you let Louis have fun for fucking once?”

Harry frowns, “What do you mean?”

Stella barks out a sarcastic laugh, “You were sending Luke death threats with your eyes man, c’mon now.”

Harry’s mind is all foggy as he tries to contain his facial expressions when looking at her. “I didn’t mean to-“

“No I know. But please contain yourself for once, Louis hasn’t had fun in a long long time. Thanks to you.”

Harry nods, looking down at his hands, he’s at a loss for words to say anything but they both know, that they both know it’s the truth.

He fucked up.

Real fucking bad.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Louis happily dances and twirls around Harry as they're walking home together through the dark empty streets. He sings softly under his breath and sways his body from side to side. "Ohhh dance the night away."

Usually Harry would make fun of his drunken, off key singing, but tonight is different. Harry can't stand it right now. Can't stand him right now.

"Did you have fun?" Louis asks him, slurring a little.

Harry doesn't reply, clenching his jaw as he stops to look at Louis for a second when they have to wait for a pedestrian crossing stop light.

Louis face completely lights up as Harry asks him if he had fun, "Yeah," He almost giggles, steadying himself by hanging onto Harry's arm. "I had sooooo much fun. I loved tonight."

Fucking damn it. Harry purses his lips. "I'm glad."

Louis blinks a few times at the short answer but doesn't seek anything behind it. He smiles up at Harry, "You did too right? How did you like my friends, they're fun right?"

Harry lets out a big sigh, clearly fed up with the questions and sarcastically replies: "Yes Louis, it was very fun." Widening his eyes with a straight face, to put emphasis on the word very.

Louis raises a brow, confused as to why Harry didn't have fun. Wasn't it just the best night?

He remembers feeling so alive while being there with the people he likes best. He feels so good right now, he's had so much fun. The most fun he's had in a while actually.

They walk the rest of the way with a tense silence between them. The cold night air sobering Louis up a little. And the magic of tonight slowly wearing down with each time Louis glances at Harry's serious face.

As soon as they get home Louis runs towards the fridge to get a cold soda. "Do you want one as well Harry?"

"No. I'm going to bed." Harry grumbles as he walks towards his bedroom.

"Harryy," Louis drags out, opening the can of cold coke. "C'mon, you must be thirsty as well from all the dancing. I feel like I've been in the Sahara."

So Louis hasn't even noticed that he was sat at the bar most of the night. Figures.

"I didn't dance as much as you did." Harry replies, crossing his arms while leaning back against the wall next to his bedroom door.

"Oh yeah I danced a loot," Louis laughs, "Next time you should do that as well, very fun."

"Yeah right."

Louis looks up from his soda and rests his eyes on Harry's rigid figure. He seems tense, his eyes fixated on Louis. "You okay?"

Harry scoffs, like Louis cares. "Yeah I am."

"Why are you acting like this? Did something happen?"

Harry shakes his head, "No."

"Then what's up?"

Harry squeezes out an "I'm fine." while a fake smile is plastered on his face.

Louis takes a sip of his soda before pushing the can away, the bubbles making his stomach upset after all the alcohol. "You may like to pretend, but I don't. Something is wrong and you're not telling me about it."

"It's nothing." Harry really really wants to forget about tonight and just sleep for a hundred hours.

"So there did happen something?"

"Stop nagging about it." Harry spits out while walking towards the sofa, annoyed with himself, Louis and honestly the whole situation. He doesn't want to be acting like this but he can't help it.

He looks over to his right once he's seated, to see a confused Louis sitting there at the table looking at him. "Huh? I thought you were going to sle-"

Before he can finish the question Harry puts up his hand, to silence him. "Stop it, what is this, a fucking interrogation?"

Louis is now starting to get irritated, "Well, Harry, I thought we were going to be trying to communicate better. I want to listen to you and help you if you want to speak about it, but if you don't want to, then fucking don't. I don't care."

"Yeah no I know that you don't care." Harry scoffs, putting on the TV and fakes interest in the lame talk show that's going right now.

Louis gets up from his seat to grab the remote out of Harry's hand. He turns around to face the TV and shuts it off, keeping the remote in his back pocket. He then stands there before him with his arms crossed, suddenly completely sobered up. "We are so not going to do this. If you have anything to say about me, say it right fucking now."

"Louis." Harry sighs, really not wanting to speak about it.

"Don't even. Just fucking tell me what's going on. Now." Louis says, his tone challenging.

He really dislikes doing this after such a magic, feel good night but Harry leaves him no choice.

Harry sinks back into the sofa, pursing his lips while breathing out. He doesn't want to accuse Louis of anything, but he feels so irked about all of it. "I said it's nothing, I'm glad you had a good night Louis."

Louis rolls his eyes, "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine but then I never want to hear you about it ever again or hold anything against me. Because it's really feeling like it's gonna be like that again."

"It's just-" Harry speaks up but almost immediately regrets it and closes his mouth. He doesn't want to come off as a jealous person. Even though in this moment he really is.

Louis just looks at him, not saying anything but clearly waiting for him to continue. He's getting real tired of this, he thought it'd be fun to take Harry along but apparently that wasn't such a great idea.

"It's just I had envisioned tonight a bit different, I guess." He finally brings out.

"Different? In what way?" Louis genuinely doesn't understand the situation.

"Look, I liked your friends. But that's what they are, your friends, not mine. I thought we were friends, and I thought friends stick together."

Oh. Realization dawns upon Louis.

"So.. You're upset because I didn't talk or dance much with you?"

A twitch in Harry's jaw as he just stares in front of him, gives Louis the confirmation he needs.

What the fuck does he say to that? But before he can say anything Harry speaks up again, "I guess. Your friends were nice but it's just- You and-"

"I and who?"

"You and Luke." Harry seems shocked he just said that. "I mean-"

Louis' brows almost fly through the ceiling, "Harry, what about me and Luke?"

"God. Don't you remember? You guys were literally all over each other." Harry sneers, "You literally didn't have eyes for anyone else."

What the fuckkk did he just say?

Louis throws his hands up in exasperation, "What the fuck are you talking about? We were just having fun together. If you had wanted to join our dancing you'd have been more than welcome."

"Like I'd have been able to come between you guys. Why the fuck did you ask me to tag along if you were going to be up in his arse for the whole night? "

Suddenly realization hits Louis like a brick. Harry is jealous that Louis didn't give him more attention than he gave Luke.

"You're jealous." He states, walking a little closer to the sofa.

"Like fuck I am." Harry stands up as well, towering over Louis making him have to look up.

"Then why do you care if I was up in his arse?"

"Because."

"Such a child." Louis mumbles while turning his back to Harry, he walks over to the kitchen again to drink the rest of his soda.

But he doesn't get the chance as Harry stalks after him, "Don't you call me a child."

Louis lets out a loud sigh before he turns around again, fed up with the situation. His head is starting to pound, a headache clearly already settling in. "You know what? Maybe I am the child here but I can't find any reason in you being mad at me. You're literally giving me bullshit for enjoying time with my friends? What the fuck Harry? How does that make sense to you?"

"Why did you ask me to tag along, when you were going to be all over Luke? Just to rub it in?"

"Rub what in?"

"That you and him have something going on what makes you trust him and enjoy your time better than you would with me?"

"My god Harry, you're being so fucking dramatic. I asked you because you're my friend and I wanted you to have a good night as well. You could've mixed with our conversations or joined our dancing, right?"

Harry scoffs, "Sure. You act like you missed me around and were a complete mess while I was gone. Then I have to wait weeks for you to forgive me for that, which—side-note—you still haven’t and then you go do something like tonight. I find it really hard to believe Louis, it's really hard to believe you didn't have someone in your bed to fill the void in your heart."

That sentence is the last straw for Louis, he raises his voice as he talks back, "What the fuck did you just say?"

A dangerous grin appears on Harry's face, looking down at Louis who is furiously looking up to him. "You heard me."

"I think I didn't, because if you really just said that I lied about missing you and that I wasn't a complete mess when you were gone, you have be fucking careful with what you say next."

"Am I wrong though? If you missed me so much, then why did you take me to a bar with your friends and then go be with him for the whole night?"

"Because he doesn't make me feel like a failure." Louis softly says, looking Harry straight in the eyes. "Everything I do, Harry, it's never fucking enough for you."

Harry's brows knit together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when have I ever been enough for you? You left me without explanation because you needed time to think? Seriously?"

"Louis stop it-"

No Louis won't stop it, Harry's words really struck a nerve in him. "No, you clearly don't care about me the same as I care about you."

A moment of silence falls between them before Louis continues, "And I'm sorry if I made you feel left out last night, I really didn't mean to do that. I just finally felt so good and Luke and I are really on the same wavelength which makes it so easy getting on with him."

He pauses for a second, "But that doesn't give you the right to act like this towards me. You yourself wanted us to communicate better. Well, if I have to pull all sorts of tricks to make you talk, when you're upset with me and giving me the cold shoulder, I'm not interested in that."

"I understand." Harry nods, backing away a little.

But that's not enough for Louis. "But do you really? Because to me it seems like all you care about are your own feelings. All we ever seem to do is fucking fight. And I’m getting real tired of it.”

"You also always immediately jump to conclusions about me. Have you really heard me when I said I was fucking messed up when you left me without a sign of life for so long? Did you really, really understand what I meant when I told you how much your absence affected me?"

"Louis I-"

"Let me finish." Louis cuts him off, "The day you came back like that, I broke down and cried on the floor like a bitch. I tried so hard to push every lingering thought about you out of my mind but you barged in again and shattered all the walls I had so securely build up over the past few months."

"Please Louis." Harry pleads, but he gets no chance as Louis puts up his hand to make him stop talking.

"So, Harry, if you really fucking think that I jumped into bed with someone else the moment you were gone.. you can say it to my face right now."

"I never said-"

Louis inhales sharply, "Yes you fucking did. And I know what you were thinking about me and Luke, but guess what Harry. You don't get to treat me like a fucking doll that you can pick up whenever you want and put down when you don't want to play with it anymore.. I'm a human if you didn't know, with real actual feelings. And if you’re actually getting jealous of me having fun with someone else, maybe you yourself have to act differently.”

Before Louis can say anything else, Harry closes the gap between them and cups Louis' face with both his hands. His eyes flicker between Louis eyes and his lips. Louis tries to back away a little but Harry's grip is tight on his cheeks. "What are you-"

"Just shut up Louis." He bites out. Lets his eyes linger on Louis lips a tad too long before he kisses Louis. A thousand feelings, a thousand butterflies and a thousand thoughts and zero thoughts at the same time all tumble over each other in Louis head.

Harry's lips softly move against his, Louis leans into the kiss at first. His hands pressed against Harry's chest, he enjoys the feeling of being so close to him. Harry's hand tug softly on the hair in the back of his neck. His cologne surrounds his brain and Harry's the only one he can think about for a moment.

Suddenly Louis breaks the kiss and furiously pushes Harry away. "Fuck you Harry."

"Louis." Harry tries to grabs his arm but Louis backs away, creating a distance between them.

"Fuck you." He spits out again, "No. You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to decide whether or not my feelings aren't real, you don't get to make accusations about me and you most certainly don't get to take advantage of me."

His bottom lip starts to tremble as he speaks up again, "I really really really hate you for doing this. Especially when I just told you, you don’t listen.l

"Louis please." Harry steps over the side table and quickly tried to grab his arm again but Louis yanks his body away from him and makes his way towards his bedroom.

Before he enters the room he turns around to face Harry once again.

“You don’t ever fucking listen Harry. Fuck you.”

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

'Sometimes it's not the butterflies that tell you you're in love, but the pain.'

Louis doesn't remember where he got that quote from but it's been rolling around in his head for hours now. He hasn't slept a single minute, staring up wide eyed at where the ceiling must be. He's not sure, as it's too dark to make out anything in his room. He might as well be laying down face first on his pillow, he would see about the same amount of stuff. And before you may ask, wouldn't he notice being short of breath laying down face first in his pillow?

No. No he would not. Because his throat is so swollen from wanting to scream and cry but keeping his sobs in he can barely breathe anyway. His head is pounding like he's getting his head made into a steak by a butcher who's trying to flatten the meat.

His lips feel swollen as well, Harry's taste still lingering on them.

Harry.

Harry Harry.

Louis shoots up and runs to the bathroom. His head pounding with every step.

Harry Harry Harry.

Gasping for air he dangles above the toilet. Vile liquid rising from his stomach into his mouth.

Harry.

His mind is circling back to him over and over again.

How Harry's lips felt on his.

Louis' body heaves over and he empties his stomach in the toilet bowl.

How his hands left burn marks where they'd touched Louis.

Even just thinking about it makes his heart ache. He gasps for breath again as soon as his heart clenches. Louis' eyes fill up again with tears, he would've sworn he ran out of tears a few hours ago but they keep coming.

He swirls some water in his mouth and brushes his teeth to get rid of the horrible taste.

He's not too sure where to go with his life right now as he feels betrayed by Harry but also by himself. He hates that he let Harry kiss him, and that he enjoyed it.

He hates that he keeps thinking about it.

Honestly? Louis is exhausted. Plain fucking exhausted from all of this. He walks back to his bed again, to lay down and stay awake. He just knows.

And he knows he can't keep doing this.

He can't keep letting people get close to him and then have them hurt him in the end.

He can't keep on forgiving Harry.

Louis frustratedly sighs as he sits upright against the headboard of his bed, he really wants to close his eyes and sleep right now. He'd texted both Luke and Stella hours ago hoping they'd reply but he's sure both of them are knocked out from the alcohol they've had. And as they should. But it's not so convenient for Louis right now, that they are.

Harry.

A mix from both frustration and pain zip through his veins like he's getting electrocuted every time he thinks about him. He gasps for air between the silent sobs that take over his body once again.

The pain from having Harry suggest he'd been doing stuff with Luke? Insufferable.

He never thought words could hurt more than what you'd imagine the pain of what a train driving over you must feel like, but here we are.

He slams the back of his head into the headboard repeatedly, almost as if he's punishing himself. "God, if you're there, what did I do wrong?"

He violently bites down on his bottom lip, as tears stream down his face. "What did I do to deserve this?" He whispers, to no one in particular, maybe hoping God will hear it.

He's finally calmed down a little, as soon as his alarm starts to blare in his ear.

Fuck.

He and Stella volunteered to work at their local golf court for the day as Niall and Michael are leaving for a work trip today.

He reallllllly does not like the idea of that today.

So he debates staying in bed but the thought of staying in the same building as Harry (undoubtedly) will, makes his insides churn. Hell no.

He steps out of bed and as he's brushing his teeth he glances at himself in the mirror. His face is completely swollen and covered in red and white spots from the stress. And the shitload of tears.

Honestly, he couldn't care less. Stella has seen him in worse states.

In the kitchen he grabs a cup of tea to go, he sets it down for a second to tie his shoes as he hears an all too familiar creak of a door behind him.

Fuck no. He freezes in his movements, dreading what will come next.

But for a moment nothing happens. So as soon as Louis has convinced himself that he must have imagined it, he stands up and grabs his tea, swiftly glancing over to Harry's door.

Only to be met with Harry's intense gaze coming from that same doorway.

Louis abruptly stops moving and tries setting down his tea again as his hand starts to shake. But of course, he misses the table, and almost drops the mug. He catches it in time though but some water splashes over the edge.

"Ow." He hisses as a few hot drops of tea touch his leg.

"Everything okay?" He hears Harry ask.

Louis purses his lips. What should he do? Talk? Ignore him? There's so many things running through his mind and nothing at the same time.

Because no. Everything is not okay. And the reason why is standing there in the doorway.

He shifts his jaw while raising a brow at Harry. His face stays neutral as he nods. "Yeah. In a rush though."

He then grabs his keys and shoves an apple in his pocket before stepping into the hallway.

"Harry?" He then calls out as he's putting on his jacket.

"Yeah?" Harry's voice sounds eager, surely hoping Louis will stay to talk.

"Your shirt is on my bathroom floor if you need it." Louis bites his lip as he immediately slams the door shut behind him. He knows Harry will be deadly disappointed with that last remark but Louis couldn't care less.

-

"Are you serious?" Stella exclaims as she's carefully backing out the golf cart out of the garage. "Louis."

"Yehes. I'm dead fucking serious. Now please watch where you're going." Louis is already fed up with not being the one driving but he knows he's better off not driving today.

"Please. As if I can't drive as well as you."

They drive together in silence for a bit before Stella starts firing questions again, "But, like, he actually kissed you? After he accused you of fucking Luke??"

"Yeah." Louis nods, pointing his hand in the direction she should drive next. "I'm so fucking tired of it."

"Real." Stella purses her lips, "Did you see him before you left this morning?"

"Yes."

"And? What did he say?"

"Not much, I guess. He watched me spill tea on my leg, from his doorway and then proceeded to ask if 'everything' was okay."

"And what did you say?" Stella quickly hops out of the cart to hand the two golfers we stopped for their cold drinks. We both smile and tell them to have a good one before driving away again.

"I said that everything was okay and that I was in a rush. Oh and after that I told him that his shirt was on my bathroom floor."

Stella looks over grinning, half expecting the last sentence to be a joke. "You didn't."

"Ugh I know." Louis grimaces. "I didn't know what to fucking say okay? What do you even say to someone who insults you one moment and then kisses you—for the first time may I add—in the next moment? "

Stella swiftly steers the cart down the slight hill, onto the next customers. "I don't know. It's kinda fucked up behavior, but can I be honest for a sec?"

Louis motions her to go on.

"Honestly I can't say it surprises me."

He nods, shifting his jaw a little. "I know."

"And I know it doesn't surprise you either, or does it?" Stella continues her questionnaire.

"It didn't, no. I might have hoped for anything else but in the end it's not a new thing."

Stella hums, "I feel like he's got a lot of problems and jealousy is one of the uglier ones. He's hurt you a lot of times already and you guys haven't even been together. It sounds like he has commitment issues and seperation anxiety all at once."

A new customer breaks up their conversation for a little.

She's right. In the time that they've known each other Louis has felt bad about himself more times than he can recall. He's hated himself and life overall more than he did before.

"I kinda feel like I'm being taken advantage of if that makes sense?" He asks, fiddling with the hem of his shorts, his shaky voice giving away the fact that he's still an emotional wreck at the moment.

"Yes. And you have every right to feel that way." Stella says, putting her hand on his leg to comfort him. "Maybe he's not the right person for you, Louis."

And with these words he feels his heart sink into his shoes. Because it is true, maybe it wasn't meant to be between them.

"But I really want him to be." He rapidly blinks away the tears burning behind his eyes, leaning his head back against the head rest. "I don't know why but I still do want him and me to work out. I want it so bad."

"Lou." Stella firmly says, making him look at her again. "Be real with yourself for a second, do you want him or do you want the idea of him?"

"He is the idea, Stel. I wish I could say I wanted only the idea of him."

"If so, why are you letting him treat you like this? You know you're never gonna be healthy together if he keeps making you feel like this over and over again."

She is right. She is so right but Louis doesn't know why he still wants it.

"I want to hate him, and maybe sometimes I really do hate him. But I also don't hate him. I see the great things that we could be. That he could be it for me."

Stella puts up her hand, "Have to serve these guys, one moment."

She stops the cart in front of two handsome men, "Hello there, can I get you guys anything?"

Both of them smile at her, both putting down their clubs. They look at ease together, Louis notices immediately.

"For Jesse here a cherry soda and for me a regular coca cola please." The tallest of the two answers her, gently putting his hand on Jesses lower back for a second. A swift movement that could've gone unnoticed by just a passerby. That could've been just a friendly move. But not for Louis, who clicks everything about the two together in his head.

He notices the sparkles in their eyes whenever their eyes meet, but also follows the glint of happiness their eyes get when looking at the other when he's looking away.

A pang of jealousy shoots through his chest, why can't it for him and Harry be like that? That easy.

"Honestly Louis, I feel like you guys are both not the best for each other. You should've seen the look on his face yesterday." Stella says after they've driven away again.

"What look?"

"That you haven't noticed is surprising me." She remarks, "There was so much anger and jealousy on his face, I had to tell him to back down a bit."

"Really?" Huh, Louis really had not noticed that. So Harry must've been having his feelings eating him up for the whole night, no wonder he was so worked up.

Louis lets out a breath, ending up being a little annoyed. "I'm so fucking tired of this shit. For months I have been beating myself up over him leaving me and the night we finally do something together, he accuses me of fucking someone else behind his back. And in the same night he also manages to kiss me?"

Stella looks over, a brow raised at the sudden change in mood.

"As if I could be fucking someone else when I'm that involved with him. And he fucking knows that."

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

For the whole day Louis has been procrastinating going home, but there's this point in time that you really cannot procrastinate something any further.

And that point is now.

It's getting late and Stella is starting to be a little annoyed with him as well.

"Louis, you know you have to get this over with anyway, right?" She asks, changing into her pajamas already.

"I know." Louis sighs, leaning his head back onto the couch again. "I should go."

"You should." Stella mumbles through her soaped up face, doing her 150 step skincare routine with Louis just there still waiting to go home.

Louis knows she doesn't mean it in a rude way, her telling him to go. He knows she's right. But he really does not want to go.

He lets out a big sigh and finally stands up. "It's just- I know he will be waiting up for me." He whines.

"Yeah." Stella pumps some of her moisturizer on her hands and puts it on her face.

Okay. He breathes out. He can do this.

"Thanks for today Stel." Louis says as he's putting on his jacket.

"Of course. Message me on how it went okay?"

"Will do." Louis grumbles as he walks through the door, really really not wanting to go home.

He just knows Harry will be waiting up for him. To talk things out maybe. As he's so 'big on communication'.

Well, if there's anything that Louis hasn't noticed yet about him it is that Harry likes to communicate clearly. He loves to just go in head first with accusations.

Yeah, Louis really is looking forward to go home, if you hadn't noticed yet.

But anyway, here he is. Putting his key in the lock and unlocking the door he steps inside.

And turns out he was right, as soon as he steps into the kitchen he's met a very tired looking Harry who's sitting at the kitchen table.

Harry looks up and nervously smiles at Louis as he readjusts his glasses. "Hey."

"Hi." He breathes out, not entirely sure what to do next.

God, his stomach is turning and turning and he feels like he's going to throw up again.

"Can we please talk?" Harry asks, voice very sincere.

"Okay."

Louis sits down opposite of Harry, grabbing the kettle and filling up the mugs Harry set out for him. He eyes the multiple teabags next to Harry's own cup. He must've been sitting out here waiting for Louis for a while.

Good, Louis isn't going to go easy on him.

"I uh-" Harry starts, hands clamped together as if to stop himself from fiddling.

"I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. I was wrong for accusing you like that and then uh," He chokes out his next words, "And then kissing you."

Louis looks at him, lets his eyes lazily go over every little detail of Harry's face and posture. The way his tired eyes look up at Louis, pleading. The way he's sitting with his shoulders hunched down, like he's scared Louis would beat him up.

"Okay." Louis replies, noticing the flicker of hope light up in Harry's eyes immediately.

Fuck.

He then puts his hand up, leaning backwards in his seat a bit. As if to create a little more distance between the two of them. "I have to ask you something first."

"Yeah, yeah of course. What is it?" Harry leans forward with his arms on the table, eyes trained on Louis.

"Do you not trust me?"

An unknown expression crosses Harry's face. His brows furrow as if he can't quite believe he heard  the question right. "Of course I do."

It comes rolling off his tongue almost in a harsh manner, like it's something that's out of the question. Like Harry is the one hurt by getting that question.

"Well, because lately I feel like you don't trust me Harry. And it's a horrible feeling."

"How- What do you mean?" Harry stammers, almost defensively.

Louis shakes his head, is he acting or is he actually dumb? "Last night for example."

"It's not that I don't trust you.." Harry trails off, readjusting his glasses once more.

"Then what is it Harry? Enlighten me, please."

"I just hated to see you with someone else instead of me." The words come falling out of his mouth, like he's been waiting a while to say them.

Louis breathes deeply in through his nose, trying to contain himself.

"So what? Then you just go and accuse me of fucking around? Just because you feel like you should be in their place? God forbid I have a friend."

"I-"

"No." Louis cuts him off, "Let me speak. You go accuse me of something like that, when you know how I've been feeling when you left me? That's harsh."

"And besides that, if I were to be sleeping around, what's it to you? Huh?" He pauses for a second, his eyes testing Harry's, "Last night you said something like that him and I have something going on that makes me trust him and enjoy my time with him better than I would with you."

A muscle in Harry's jaw twitches as he surely recalls the remark he made yesterday.

"And maybe you were right, because at this moment, I don't know what to think and how to feel about you. You're also right I didn't tell you I forgive you yet for your sudden leave, but I'm so unsure as how to feel. Because I really wanted to forgive you and work things out but yesterday made it complicated again. And I know it's not only you but me as well that may have created this between us. I have to work on communication as well but about yesterday I don't think I was in the wrong."

Harry takes off his glasses to itch in his eye, "I understand."

"But do you actually—really—understand Harry? Because I don't feel like you trust me, but I'm also not sure I can trust you. I open up to you about my feelings, how you made me feel and all you do with it is get back at me when you're angry with me."

Harry sucks in his lower lip, clearly feeling the depth of what Louis is saying.

"And I don't want to feel that way, Harry. I really don't."

"I get it." Harry says, his voice unsteady. "And again, I'm really sorry. For everything."

"Can I trust you to not turn on me again? Can I be myself around my friends without you feeling like I want to fuck them?" He pauses, "Can I trust you Harry? In everything?"

Harry nods, "I want to be trust worthy for you. I will try my best to communicate better as well."

"Okay, I'm glad. I hope we both can learn to communicate better so this will be avoided in the future."

"Can we maybe start over Louis?" Harry asks.

For a moment they just look at each other in silence. Louis' gaze is fixed on Harry's face. He seems really genuine, which makes this so hard.

Louis sighs, he hates all this. Especially seeing Harry sit there all hunched over like he's physically hurting from Louis' story. All he wants to do is take him in his arms and hold him close..

So that's what sleep deprived Louis does.

"C'mere." He blurts out standing up.

"What?" Harry looks up, confusion lacing his voice.

"Come here." Louis articulates, motioning Harry to stand up.

Harry stands up, not sure why he should until Louis spreads his arms and motions him to come closer.

Oh.

Seconds later they're in each other's arms. Louis' head rests against Harry's chest which is rapidly rising and falling. His cologne surrounds Louis, making it hard to think.

For a while they're just there. Holding each other close. Harry resting his skin on top of Louis' head.

"I just needed some time." Louis mumbles against his chest.

"I know, it's okay. I can still wait." Harry softly says as he sways them both from side to side.

But Louis is tired of waiting.

He breaks the hug, making Harry take a step backwards as to not overstep Louis' boundaries by staying longer in his close proximity, their bodies immediately feeling off. As if they're made to be in each other's arms.

Louis steps forward, trapping Harry between him and the kitchen table. He slowly puts his hand up to cup Harry's cheek. His thumb caressing the soft skin, trailing over his cheekbone.

"This is so I know I didn't imagine things, because now we're not intoxicated." Louis spills the words out of his mouth, not caring how stupid he might sound.

He pulls Harry's face closer, his heart pounding in his throat. Harry's eyes darken as he looks down on Louis, intensely following every move of his.

And then Louis kisses him. Sparks arise in Louis' stomach as Harry is the only thing on his mind right now. Their lips move against each others in a perfect rhythm. Like they're made for it. The taste of Harry makes him want more and more.

He lets his hands trail down towards Harry's neck, his fingers grasping the skin, as Harry's hands make his way up his back. Harry then adjusts himself so their bodies are flush against the other.

A bit out of breath Louis breaks the kiss after a moment, keeping his forehead against Harry's. Neither of them says anything as they try to catch their breath. They stay like that for a moment, just in each other's presence.

"Good lord." Harry finally smiles, putting his hand up to trace Louis' lips with his thumb.

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

It feels not real, the way they're sitting opposite of each other again. At the kitchen table, where they just had a talk. They've been sitting there for God knows how long and nothing seems to be pointing to the fact they just kissed except maybe that the air between them feels like it's charged with electricity. A certain heaviness weighing it down as they continue to just be.

Harry is trying to fight a smile as he looks down at his tea, stirring the non existent sugar cube in it for the hundreth time. There's fallen a silence between them after they've sat down, it's not necessarily an awkward silence but it's not too comfortable as well. The only thing audible is the clock on the kitchen counter, ticking the time away.

Louis opens his mouth to say something but no words come out. He doesn't quite know how to act around Harry now he's taken the initiative with kissing him. He's never that straight forward. Now he's leaned back in his chair, eyes focused on Harry, noticing his every move.

"Harry?" It's the only thing that will come out of Louis' mouth.

Harry's head snaps up, eyes locking with Louis', "Yeah?"

Louis takes a deep breath, not really sure on how to do this. "I- Uh, I want to say I forgive you. But-"

Harry's eyes had lit up, but the 'but' from Louis make his eyes wary again. "But what?"

"But I feel like I maybe need some time to get comfortable with us again, if that makes sense?"

Harry's face remains blank, although Louis might've seen one brow quickly rise and fall. Other than that, Louis can't read his expression. And it makes his stomach itch, he needs to be able to know what he's thinking.

"Yeah, I guess." Harry says after a moment of silence. His voice is flat, almost as if he's disappointed.

"I'm sorry." Louis quickly adds, "I know it's maybe not what you wanted to hear, I get it if you're fucking disappointed. I maybe shouldn't have kissed you."

Harry quickly shakes his head, his dark curls bouncing aggressively around his head. "No, no, that's not it. Trust me."

"Then what is it?" Louis asks, curious. Hoping Harry will tell him what's going on.

"I'm not disappointed in you, Louis. I'm disappointed in myself. I made all of this so fucking complex and hard for you. I really am sorry about all this and I need you to take all the time you need." He pauses for a moment to mindlessly stir his tea again. "I would also understand that we, you, maybe never feel the same again together and to me that's also okay. I just need you to be okay again. I'm really grateful you're wanting to forgive me."

Louis softly smiles at Harry, he's needing some adjusting to this side of Harry. "It's okay Harry, we will be okay."

They sit at the table for a little while, just chatting a bit about everything and nothing, until Louis starts to uncontrollably yawn, indicating he really really needs to get to bed.

"I need sleep." He yawns for the thousandth time in a row.

Harry stands up, taking the hint. "You go rest. Goodnight Louis."

He hesitantly hovers around a bit but then leans towards Louis and presses a kiss on top of his head before retreating into his own bedroom rather quickly.

Louis is left sitting at the table, muttering a soft "Night Harry." as he stands up as well. His tiredness suddenly very adamantly present in his body.

-

That next morning, for the first time in a while, Louis wakes up feeling okay, almost at peace. Instead of the triggered, stressed and painful feeling he's been so used to lately. Of course, his headache and neckpain are still there, but honestly, a bit more manageable today.

He's really glad he doesn't have work today, so he can just relax for a bit and then go back to work on monday.

He wonders what Harry is doing today..

As soon as he enters the kitchen area his phone starts ringing, it's Stella.

Huh. Surprising.

"Morning." He hears the smile in her voice. "How did you sleep?"

"Oh you know, I slept." Louis grins, putting his phone in his other hand to put on the kettle.

"Good, good." She replies, "But that wasn't why I called."

Yeah no shit. Louis had sent her a quick message before he went to sleep, knowing she'd be dead curious when she woke up to that message.

"I need to hear everything. Can I come over?"

Dude.

"Of course." Louis grins, "But later. I'm literally starving so I need to eat first."

He hears Stella laugh and fumble with keys on the other side of the line. He also hears someone fumble with keys outside of the door of his place.

She's not already here, right?

Right?

The door swings open to a laughing Stella with three coffees in her hand together with a brown paper bag from the local bakery.

"Morning Louis." She grins as she steps inside, "I picked you up a coffee and some croissants."

Louis groans, as he closes the door behind her. "Remind me to ask for that key back."

"Got Harry a coffee as well."

Oh.

"Uhm, yeah, not sure if he's already awake." Louis stutters a little, not sure about all that. "I'm not going to wake him up."

Stella just stays silent, a knowing grin om her face as she keeps looking at something behind him. Her eyes silently motioning Louis to turn around as well.

As soon as he does that, he's met with a very sleepy looking but my Lord, a very good looking Harry.

His eyes are barely open and his hair is messy as hell. But damn does that make him look even more attractive.

"Don't need to wake me up." He leans against the doorway stretching, his arms in the air making his shirt rise up showing a little of his lower stomach.

"Thanks for the coffee Stella, that's very kind of you." Harry smiles at her. His voice sounds a bit hoarse, leaving Louis too stunned to speak.

Fuck.

How does he act? How- What?

Help!

Stella softly nudges Louis in the back, making him realize he's been standing there gawking at Harry with his mouth wide open.

He immediately spins around, "Well, uh, that's good then."

He hears, no, he feels Harry behind him as he's turned to the kitchen counter to cut up some fruit. He's suddenly very mindful of handling the berries, melon and apples.

A few moments later he finds himself calmed down enough to be able to turn around and act normal. Or you know, try to act normal.

He sets down the cut up fruit on the table, with three forks so they can share. As he retreats his arm he feels Harry's fingers brush against his skin, arising goosebumps over his whole body.

"Looks good Louis." Harry smiles, immediately picking up a fork to grab some of the fruit.

God.

Harry looks up as Louis sits down, opposite of him, with Stella in between the two of them. Louis looks very occupied with his croissant. Leaving room for Harry to take in the sight of him while enjoying the fruit.

He's missed this. He's missed Louis so much. He's missed them.

He could get used to this again, a very tired grumpy-looking Louis on the other side of the table, devouring his breakfast. He looks a little flushed though, Harry notices, his cheeks a dark pink.

"So guys, doing anything today?" Stella asks after a while.

Oh yeah, she's here as well.

"Not sure." Louis' eyes bright as he looks up at her, being barely audible as he's chewing down the food still. "You?"

Harry looks over at Stella, who's seemingly smiling knowingly at the both of them.

"Maybe the farmers market, but I don't want to go alone."

"Oh, maybe we can come with?" Harry immediately sits up straight and lets the words spill out of his mouth, turning a little red as he noticed what he just said. So he sags back down in his chair. "Well, I mean- If you're okay with that of course and if Louis also wants that?"

He glances over at Louis who's stopped mid chew and stares at him in disbelief.

"Forget it." Harry mumbles, wanting to disappear. Why did he say that?? God.

But then Louis shakes his head, a little bit disoriented from the straightforward Harry. "No, yeah, I mean yes. If you want to?"

Stella's fighting a grin, not daring to look at them as Louis surely knows she'd be laughing het ass off. "Please, come with."

-

Louis tries to hide his smile as they're walking back to their apartment from the market. He's walking behind Harry and Stella for a bit as this part of the sidewalk is quite small, and he's enjoying seeing the two of them together.

He really hopes Stella actually approves of them both making up. And he still has to talk with her about him fucking kissing Harry..

Louis isn't necessarily scared she will hate it, but their conversation from yesterday keeps playing on repeat in his head. She is right, you know. He doesn't want to keep being treated like that over and over again. So he really hopes Harry understands that this is the last chance he'll get.

Because what Stella said yesterday, it's so not healthy between them and that needs to change.

The objects of his thoughts both turn around, apparently they've asked him something but he didn't hear it.

"What?" He asks, unbothered when they both burst out laughing from his very confused face.

"Do you want to come over at mine, watch a movie, order some food?"

Louis hesitates for a second, his eyes flickering between the two of them. Does she mean only him or what.

Luckily Stella gets what he means, "You and Harry both."

Louis lets out a soft sigh, of fucking course she'd ask the both of them. "Sure, that's nice."

So they make their way to Stella's. They had been at the market for the whole afternoon, just chatting a bit, looking around and doing some shopping. It felt really nice to be there together. Now that Louis and Harry made up, everything mundane feels so much more enoyable to Louis.

He loves how nice Stella acts with Harry, honestly she has every right to feel a bit reserved towards him, but she chooses to be kind. He takes a mental note to tell her that later, he really appreciates it.

He's walking side to side with Stella, Harry walks in front of them, as Stella grabs onto Louis' bicep.

"You guys kissed again, didn't you?" She whispers.

"Wha- How the hell do you know?" Louis is stunned.

"Ha, I fucking knew it." She grins, "The way you both act is too telling."

She stops speaking just in time because Harry turns around to join them where the sidewalk gets a bit wider again.

Harry meets Louis eyes for a second, making Louis immediately have a blush creep up his neck. He really hopes that Harry didn't hear what Stella just asked him.

As soon as they enter Stella's flat they plop down on the sofa.

"Damn I don't feel my feet anymore." Louis sighs as he lays down, a notification sound coming from Stella's phone makes him aware of the fact he still has her phone in his pocket. She didn't take her bag with her so he put it in his pocket for her.

He hands her the phone without looking at the screen, but becomes very curious after seeing Stella's expression change when reading the message. She starts typing something, then stops and she scratches her ear. A habit that Louis has noticed she does a lot when she's not too sure about something.

" Lou?" She asks, "Can you come to the kitchen for a minute? I need some help."

Of course he can, especially when there's definitely something going on and he needs to know. Not that he's a very curious person or anything like that.. he just likes to know everything.

"What's up?" He asks as they enter the kitchen together, leaving Harry in the living room.

"Luke asked if he can join tonight as he's not doing anything. I didn't want to put the both of you on the spot" She says, speaking softly as not to make Harry hear her.

Oh.

She's definitely asking because she saw how Harry acted towards him, the night at the club.

Louis hesitates for a bit but then decides on an answer, "He's our friend, so yes. Harry will have to deal with it."

It's not his fault Harry thinks they fucked. Right?

As soon as he has that thought he pushes it away again, he knows he's being a little unfair right now.

She nods, then motions for him to go back to the living room as she hands him two cans of coke. "Here take these drinks with you for Harry and yourself."

Louis walks back to the sofa where he finds Harry lying back into the cushions, very still, with his eyes closed and his hands clasped behind his head.

He's lying there so peaceful, his face so totally completely relaxed, that Louis rethinks his decesion to let Luke come over again. He hopes it'll be fine, but if he had to guess, Harry won't be that happy to hear it.

Harry opens his eyes as Louis softly nudges him, and puts the cold can in his hands. "Here."

"Thanks." Harry smiles up at Louis, who's still awkwardly standing in front of Harry. He pats down on the sofa next to him. "Come sit."

And so he does, he comfortably nestles himself into the cushions, accidentally brushing against Harry a few times. And every time he does, electricity burns between them.

Stella comes walking into the living room again, having changed into her pajamas already. "Okay I ordered chinese food for us. Oh and Luke is coming over as well. Niall and Michael are out of town and so he didn't have anything to do either."

She drops the bomb on Harry like it's nothing, Louis looks over at him, chewing on his bottom lip in suspense.

Harry's eyes are unreadable as his brows shoot up for maybe a split second. Other than that, his face doesn't tell what he's really thinking about it as he replies, "Oh okay, that's fun right?"

Louis blows out a bit of air, not sure how to feel with Harry's reaction, "Yeah."

"Okay good." Stella quips, "Lets pick a movie then, I'm voting for romance. I could use some of that in my life."

God she's impossible.

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Harry's stomach is making backflips and turns ever since Stella mentioned that Luke is coming over as well. The feeling of impending doom settled deep in his body and is eating away at it.

They're watching some random stuff on TV right now so they can watch the movie together with Luke, but Harry can't seem to focus on it. He's watching the screen, yes, but behind his eyes there are a lot of other images playing. He keeps rewinding the night at the bar in his head.

The way Luke and Louis' bodies moved together, the way Louis' eyes lit up whenever Luke said something, the way they kept touching each other.

Harry knows he shouldn't do this to himself, there's no way he can act normal with Luke and Louis being in the same room as him. He's not obligated to stay, he can go home if he wants.

Hell, he's a fucking grown up, he can walk away from this situation. And prevent all of them from having a bad night with him around.

But still, he wants to do this. For Louis.

But damn, is he making it hard for him.

He hates feeling like this, he doesn't want to be jealous at all but he envies the way how Luke and Louis are together.

He feels like there's no way in hell that he can suppress his feelings. He doesn't know where it comes from, these triggering thoughts. He's never really been a jealous person, but with Louis every feeling is intensified with so much force.

Harry hates the way he let his jealousy of that night be seen, so so fucking much. He wonders how different everything would be if he'd been able to keep his thoughts to himself or if he'd talked it out with Louis without being the jealous judgmental Harry he'd been.

He glances over at Louis from time to time, knowing he's completely obsessed with the guy next to him. His brown hair, the curly strands where it meets his neck, his strong jaw, and focused eyes.

Somewhere deep down he might be afraid of the same thing that Louis did when they were at the cabin, he felt so utterly worthless and hated seeing Louis get so close to his friend Calum.

Harry's hoping it won't be the same. That Louis will spare him a little. There's only so much he can take.

He tiredly leans his head back on the head rest of the sofa, staring up to the ceiling. His fingers restlessly stroking the hem of the blanket Stella passed him earlier.

From the other side of the sofa, Stella noticed the way Harry is being fidgety ever since she's let him know Luke will be coming over.

A heavy feeling sinks into her stomach as she sees the desperateness in his behavior, the way he's sitting there being all fidgety. He's definitely nervous for what's to come.

She softly blows out a breath, she really really hopes she made the right decision with letting Louis decide on whether Luke could come by or not. She loves Luke, she really does but she also loves Louis. And she knows that the last one may make some decisions rather with his heart than rationality.

He feels strongly for Harry but also for Luke, she's noticed. She really hopes everything will be okay between them.

It's been such a short time for both of them to try and work it out. And Luke doesn't know anything about it so he's probably not going to be any different tonight.

Louis on the other hand is sitting there watching the TV quite peacefully. There's a random show on about house renovations so it's peaked his interest.

He feels Harry's presence right next to him, heat radiating off of his body. He itches to just stick his hand out and grab Harry's hand, but he doesn't. It doesn't feel okay to do that again, not yet.

He's looking forward to having Luke here, but he's also a little scared on how everything will go down. As time passes by, with the minute he's less sure he made the right decision.

But he focuses on the show again and away are his worries, it's gonna be fine, right?

He looks over at Harry from time to time, admiring his strong jaw, together with his luscious curls falling on his forehead. Harry doesn't meet his eyes once though.

The silence between them is disrupted once the doorbell plays its tune.

Stella shoots up, "Food."

Louis grins at Harry, "Watch it not be the food, that place takes years on weekends."

"Yeah." Harry mindlessly answers as he dies a little inside when Louis looks up at him like that, eyes all bright and such a gorgeous smile on his lips. He wants that smiley face imprinted in his brain for forever.

A deep red creeps up Louis' neck as soon as he notices Harry's intense stare, so he's glad when Luke enters the room.

"Hey mate." Luke smiles at Harry, extending his hand.

"Hi." Harry says, reluctantly taking the hand. "How are you?"

Luke gives him a thumbs up, "Great, and you?"

Harry just nods, not bothering to answer.

He leans back into the sofa again and watches Luke pull Louis into a hug, one that lasts a little too long for Harry's liking.

He can't lie though, Luke is fucking handsome. His defined blonde curls softly bounce as he speaks animatedly with Louis about something Harry doesn't follow. He's wearing a pink hoodie with dark washed jeans, a simple outfit but on him it looks Vogue worthy.

Honestly, if Louis chooses him over Harry, he can't even blame him.

But yeah okay, it'd hurt.

Once Stella is back from the kitchen with a drink for Luke, the doorbell rings again. "Ah, hopefully that's the food."

"I'll get it." Harry bolts out of his seat, he needs to be away from this for a second. Leaving the rest of them behind questioning his motive for running to the door.

Harry takes in a deep breath as he reaches the hallway, fuck, this night is going to be torture.

But he can't let them win, so he accepts the food, tips the guy, and walks back to the living room. The laughter can be heard from the hallway, and for a second it's making Harry very self conscious. If the floor opened beneath his feet he'd gladly jump down.

-

How they end up like that, Harry doesn't recall, but after a while of watching the movie and eating, Louis is snuggled up into Harry's side while commenting on the movie together with Luke. Or rather, Luke is enduring Louis torture him with a thousand jokes like: "She's a bit like you Luke."

Luke rolls his eyes, "What now?"

"No fashion sense at all."

"Yeah right." Luke dismisses the comment like it's nothing and continues chewing down the spring rolls, unbothered as he is.

Stella groans, "Guys, I'm tryna watch a movie here."

"It's Louis fault." Luke shrugs, grabbing another container with some egg or something like that. Harry's eyes widen a little at that, damn that man can eat.

"Yeahhhh.. shut up." Louis laughs as he snuggles a bit deeper into Harry's side, leaning his head onto his chest. Harry doesn't say anything about it, he just enjoys the feeling of having Louis' body pressed against him like this.

He scared if he moves, that Louis will notice what he's actually doing and will sit up straight. Like a cat that is nestled on your lap but one wrong move and they jump off and run away.

The movie goes on and on about some couple but honestly Harry doesn't follow the storyline. He's way too invested in everything going on between Luke and Louis.

In one way or another they're all intertwined as they sit on the couch. Louis is comfortably lying against Harry with his legs on Luke's lap. Stella sits on the other side of Luke, with her head resting on his shoulder, half asleep he believes.

For the rest of the movie they all comment on it as it starts getting weirder and weirder. But it's mostly Luke and Louis who are talking.

And so Harry feels a small pit of jealousy burn in his stomach but he tries to push away the feeling. It's just friendly banter between them, right?

Louis keeps trying to include him and throws a hundred remarks like "Right Harry?", "Harry you think that as well right?" and "Harry def agrees with me." his way.

But Harry isn't interacting as much so after a while Louis does it less and less.

Eventually Louis sits up straight, he moves a bit away from Harry as well, what leaves Harry feeling cold. Empty at last.

His move confirming the bad thoughts Harry has been having all night, Louis doesn't like to interact with him as much as he does with Luke.

But he doesn't know that his lack of interactions creates a feeling of disappointment for Louis, as if Harry doesn't like Louis' comments as much.

He really wants to include Harry in their banter, to show Harry he's not into Luke, but it doesn't work the way he thought it would..

Chapter 22: Chapter 22

TW: in this chapter there will be mentions of emotional abuse, grooming and sexual abuse.

"I'm sorry." Louis breathes out. Harry and him are currently waiting to cross the road at a traffic light.

He's been procrastinating this conversation since they went outside, but neither of them had said a word until Louis just now. A silence thick as syrup is coated over them.

The weather has been a perfect play out of Louis feelings. The wind picked up earlier this evening and it's blowing the rain wildly through the streets, drenching the both of them completely so they're gonna be a 100% sure dead cold by the time they're home.

For a moment there he thinks his apology got lost in the wind, blown away with his courage to speak up again but as soon as he opens his mouth to finally repeat it he hears Harry's: "For what?"

Louis doesn't dare to meet his eye, even though he's sure Harry is looking at him. He feels his eyes burning into the side of his face. "For making you sit through this night, I wasn't being fair to you."

They're currently walking home after movie night at Stella's and Louis has had a pit of guilt in his stomach eating away at him ever since leaving.

"It's fine." Harry hums. He puts his glasses on top of his head, no use in wearing them when they're completely fogged up and rained on anyway.

But they both know it's not fine.

It started off quite okay, in Louis' opinion. But once they were getting ready to leave, Luke made a back handed comment pointed at Harry and he had felt the air change in the room.

Louis doesn't even remember what exactly he said, but it was something along the lines of Luke being surprised Harry sat through the whole movie, because he usually leaves halfway through something.

That was when Louis realized he might've accidentally told Luke about the fact Harry randomly got up and left..

It was a bit of a surprise for Harry seeing as Louis told him that he only told Stella.

"I'm really sorry." Louis speaks up again, a bit out of breath as he's struggling to keep up with the long strides Harry is taking at the moment.

A second later he's walked face first into Harry's back as he stopped dead in his tracks. His whole face wetted by the raindrops on Harry's jacket.

"Ah fuck." Louis takes a step back but Harry spins around and grabs his wrist to prevent him from backing away some more.

Harry's eyes darken as he makes eye contact with Louis, his brows furrowed down.

"Why?" Harry asks, his voice barely audible above the sound of the wind. His hair is being molested by the wind, almost blowing his glasses out of his hair.

Louis sighs, "I don't know why Harry, I'm honestly surprised I told him about it. I never meant for him to talk about it to you."

Harry tightens his grip onto Louis' wrist and drags him along without saying a word. Louis almost has to jog a little from the speed Harry is walking with.

"Harry what are you doi-" Louis gets an aggressive tug on his arm from Harry, making him shut up.

He takes a right turn instead of the left turn they'd have to take to go to their flat, he walks them through an completely dark, rainy and windy park, they pass the pond and finally he stops in front of an empty park completely wet bench.

A small lantern next to the bench tries to light up the pavement but its light is shaky and doesn't do more than flicker its dim light every other minute.

"Sit."

"Ooh, bit dominant there, aren't we?" Louis starts to laugh as he sits down, but the smile is wiped off his face in an instant once he sees Harry's raised a brow and looks down on him with an unreadable expression that's maybe closest to regret and pain.

"Now my whole ass is wet." Louis whines as he feels the rain drench his ass through his jeans. He notices the way the rain made the wet fabric of Harry's jeans stick to his thighs, putting them on display.

Harry rolls his eyes as he sits down as well, a momentarily look of disgust in his eyes as he most definitely feels his jeans getting drenched as well.

Harry bends over a bit and rests his head in his hands, as his elbows are leaning on his knees. "You deserve the truth."

Louis leans a little bit more towards Harry, not sure he heard that right. "What?"

"I said, you deserve the truth about me. Why I'm like this." Harry almost shouts, making Louis back away as to not get deaf.

"Yeah so you're making us sit here and I can't help the wind is that loud, now can I?" Louis scoffs, standing up to go home as he's getting a little bit annoyed with Harry.

"Louis please sit down." Harry looks up at Louis, hand on his wrist again, keeping him from leaving. Eyes pleading, desperately begging him to stay. "I need to be somewhere away from home when I tell you this, and I really really need to talk to you about this."

Louis shrugs and sits down, he's wet now anyway.. He's not entirely sure what direction this is going in but as you might not know yet, he's kinda nosy, and so he needs to know what's going on. "What's going on Harry? Talk to me."

He hears a big sigh next to him, or is it the wind? He's not sure as Harry's again leaning into his hands.

"I didn't want to come back to our flat."

The way he so casually says that, when it drops onto Louis like a bomb. He what?

"If it wasn't for Zayn and Calum I wouldn't be back here. They literally had to come get me from my mom's house."

"What are you even saying?" Louis scrunches his face in confusion. What the hell is he talking about. And also this fucking tornado like wind and rain is getting him annoyed, he's on the edge of walking home because he doesn't need pneumonia on top of his headaches.

Harry sits up, leaning his head back to face the sky. He closes his eyes as the rain splatters down on his face. Louis watches as the water streams down his cheeks, down his chin into his neck, then makes its way down to his chest.

Harry's head is spinning, making it hard to focus, but Louis deserves the truth. He needs to tell the fucking truth to him for once. "I'm sorry, this- this is hard to do." He forces out.

Louis ducks into his jacket, the wind is blowing down the rain into his jacket and wets his shirt, creating goosebumps all over his body. "It's okay, take your time."

That last comment makes Harry suddenly sit up straight like he's been stabbed by a knife in his behind. "No Louis, it's not fucking okay. And also no, me taking my time has fucked me over so badly. Fucked us over."

He almost shouts out the words, not being able to stop himself, it's like a wound that's been punctured and is bleeding out. The cold rain slapping in his face reminding him of another time, another place—when he was sixteen, and the world felt both vast and suffocating. "I'm sorry for getting so worked up but I hate myself for it. So fucking much. I need to get this out, please listen to me."

Louis puts his hand in Harry's, intertwining their cold fingers. "I'm listening."

"I don't even know where to start, but I am gonna do my best to explain this all as clearly as possible."

Louis then just nods, showing he's listening, and staying.

"So years ago when I barely turned 16 I went to live on my own for the first time, in a city closer to home to try and pursue my art career with school and a job and stuff. I moved together with Zayn who I know since elementary and then through him I met Calum as well. We bonded fast and it just clicked, the three of us, we were 16 and we loved to rebel a bit and so we started to go to parties together, a lot.

"And I don't know how we got there but eventually we became mixed with the wrong crowd, Zayn got a way older girlfriend, like I'm talking about maybe 15 years age difference and we hung around her friendgroup for a while until one of the older guys took an interest in me, I'm not even sure what age he was then, but he was definitely in his early or maybe even late thirties. We got on well and I felt great having someone to talk to all the time, especially someone who seemed to understand all of what I was going through."

Louis jaw tightens a bit, not sure what to think of all this. He takes both of Harry's hands into his lap and rubs his fingers over them in a comforting manner. His hands gliding easily because of the rain, which luckily turned into a slight drizzle. He feels Harry's hands tremble, shaking in his hands.

"It went on for a while, we went on multiple dates where he'd spoil me to death, until he asked me to be his boyfriend. And oh Lord, I was over the moon. I went all in. Calum tried to warn me and Zayn, Zayn listened at some point but I didn't listen. We went to even more parties, where we got in because of my boyfriend. At first the relationship was amazing, it was all 16 year old me could ask for. He had a lot of experience with everything, he was all of my firsts and stupid young me thought he'd be with me forever so I gave him everything.

"We went on little trips together and also spent whole weekends with their whole friendgroup, and I- honestly I can't-" Harry chokes on his words, clearly having trouble with finding the right words. Bur he has to talk about this, Louis needs to know. The cold drizzle keeps being slammed in his face, the wind making it hard to hear if Louis has a reaction to any of it. Marking his isolation in his feelings. "I can't remember any of it but he used to drug me a lot and use me. All of me."

"Oh Harry." Louis whispers, his stomach turning. His whisper being passed onto the winds.

"The only reason I know is because the guy used to record all of it and blackmailed me with it. I looked up so much to him that I really believed in all of his lies about why he did it. I really loved him, I think. I- I would do literally anything for that guy back then. He told me he needed this from me, that it was the only way to repay him for all of the expenses I never asked him to make.

"If I spoke up about anything about him that bothered me, he would continually gaslight me into thinking that I was in the wrong and that none of it really happened. Or he'd blame it on me, saying things like that if I hadn't done a certain thing, then he wouldn't have had to react that way. He'd be telling me that if I really loved him I would do the things he'd want me to do."

Louis' insides get squeezed, he doesn't even think about being cold sitting in the rain out here anymore.

"He'd made me emotionally dependent on him, I closed myself off for all of my friends. Except for Zayn and Calum who would keep me in their lives at all costs. He would give me the cold shoulder a lot, to the point where I would beg and literally cry for his attention. And if he'd decided the timing was right he would love bomb me, he'd be so sweet and amazing and then he'd be everything that I craved when he was witholding his affection. I felt on top of the world about the fact that he chose me out of everyone else..

"Eventually he'd made me scared of losing him, of not being good enough and not being the one he wanted. I'd get scared he'd replace me if I didn't behave like he wanted me to. I'd get so fucking jealous if he so much as looked at another guy but I couldn't do anything about it. He'd flaunt his 'friendships' right in front of me, knowing it would upset me.

"After things like that he'd control me completely, he knew I would let him do anything he wanted to me just so I could have him for myself. Especially in the bedroom. he knew exactly what to do to get me to be so cooperative. He would fuck me for hours and hours until I was almost unconscious. And not in a good way."

Harry retracts one of his hands from Louis' grip to angrily wipe his eyes, "Then after, I think, 2 years, I found him in bed fucking another, even younger guy. The worst part about that was that he couldn't care less about my feelings, he would disregard all of it and insisted I didn't do enough to satisfy him and that it was my own fault he had to take someone else home. While he would've literally been able to snap with his fingers and I'd be on my knees for him, ready to let him do anything he wanted to me."

Louis lets out a shaky breath, cupping Harry's cheek with his hand, hating to see how hard this is on him. He can't even imagine what he's gone through. He feels Harry lean into his touch as he continues.

"After that I left him, Zayn and Calum helped me go to the police about it, he got a sentence for grooming and blackmailing but honestly I think it wasn't even 2 years. I never felt safe outside anymore, scared he'd come back in my life. So we decided to move to this city, the three of us. And it worked, I went to uni, started to create more art, finally being able to be myself again. But I promised myself I would never let anyone get that close to me again. So that no one could ever hurt me like that again."

Harry blinks, the present crashing back into focus. He pulls his hand away from Louis, removes Louis' hand from his cheek in a wild manner, the weight of his past making it impossible to let them stay there like that.

Louis swallows, shivering not only because of the storm blowing through his clothes, but also because he feels the pain of Harry burn in his soul. Fuck, has he been through a lot.

"So, when you came into my life, Louis." Harry pauses, his voice trembling. "I was fucking terrified of letting you in. Hell, I didn't even know how to let someone in. You really saw me, and I couldn't handle it. I was scared you might leave me if you discovered what I'm made of, so I decided to leave you before you could."

"So I ran way like the little bitch I am. I ran away because I was scared. Scared of being hurt, scared of being loved, scared of being seen. I didn't know how to open up, how to trust, how to let someone care. So I shut you out, thinking it would protect me. But all it did was make me feel more alone.

"And Zayn and Calum were the ones to finally get that into my thick skull. They drove all the way to my mother's house to fucking lash out at me. That I couldn't do this to neither of us two. They made me realize that I'm not the only one in our whatever-we-are-ship. That I couldn't hide from you anymore.

"Harry." Louis breathes out, gripping onto his hand again. He can't seem to swallow the lump in his throat.

"And I really wanted to text you I was okay, but I kept pushing that task forward and I'd tell myself I'd text you later and then I didn't. I felt ashamed I hadn't given you any sign of life but I told myself you didn't care about me anyway, and then I wanted to text you again but I felt like you would be hurt and eventually I came into this endless circle of wanting to but then not daring to and then again feeling ashamed about it all."

Harry frowns, "And then Luke... when he said that thing about me leaving halfway through the movie, it hit me hard. It made me aware of the fact that I owe you the truth. And of course it doesn't make anything right from what I did to you. But I hope you'll understand my doubts and worries. I know it was just a comment from Luke, but it brought up all those fears I had about being abandoned, about not being enough.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the pain I caused, for the distance I put between us. I was just trying to protect myself, but I ended up hurting you instead. I don't want to run anymore. I want to face my fears, face you, and try to be the person you deserve to be associated with." Harry seems to feel a hundred pounds lighter than before as he breathes out after all of that, it felt so good being able to talk about it without being judged for it.

Louis reaches out, gently cupping Harry's wet face in his hands. His stubble feeling rough in Louis' cold hands. "Harry, I'm so fucking sorry you went through all of this. You didn't deserve any fucking part of it."

Harry grimaces, putting his hands over Louis' hands. Keeping a tight grip as if he's scared Louis might never touch him again if he lets go.

"Oh Harry." Louis sighs, "My fucking goodness. You deserve the world and more. I care so much about you, that's why it hurt so bad when you left me. But you're back now. And I want to be here for you, to help you heal and not to cause you more pain. I want to be there with you along the path."

He pauses, searching Harry's eyes almost desperately, for understanding. "If you'll let me."

Chapter 23: Chapter 23

They sit there in silence for a while, curled together like an island in a wild sea as the wind keeps blowing around them and the rain streaming down. Louis' hands are still on Harry's face, Harry leaning into his touch with his eyes closed. And for the first time in a while Louis really looks at Harry.

He notices the deep lines cut into the darkened skin around his eyes, like he's been fighting off demons at night and hasn't slept in years.

And suddenly there rings a bell in Louis' head. He'd probably play music so loud at night, to drown out his demons. Not realizing he'd be putting so much pain and pressure on his roommate. His music being that loud was probably the only fucking thing that may have done the job to only be able to think about the music and his art and nothing else.

He drinks in Harry's appearance, lets his eyes lazily trail over his face without shame. He admires the way his wet lashes touch down on his cheek. The way his lips are made in a perfect curve, his bottom lip a little fuller than his upper. And the way Harry's rough stubble feels so good underneath his fingertips.

Louis looks up to the sky, they should go home.

The rain is not going to stop anytime soon and they're definitely getting a cold if they keep sitting here like this. And even though his head is thumping and bouncing, in this moment it feels good to be here, but they have to be sensible.

Neither of them has any clue what time it is. They've been on the bench at the park for at least a few hours, what felt like minutes and days at the same time. They both feel stiff, their muscles hurting from trying to keep themselves warm.

"We should go." Louis whispers into Harry's hair, as he moves his hands from his face to the back of his neck, letting his fingers rake through Harry's hair, softly pressing Harry's head against his chest.

"Mhm." Harry mumbles, sounding sleepy.

"I think I'm actually never going to feel warm again, plus my head is exploding." Louis says, "We are leaving, c'mon."

Harry finally stands up, feeling like all the energy he's ever had drained from his body. Suddenly the cold hits him like a brick. He starts shivering, feeling the cold seep into his bones. "You're right. Let's go."

They then make their way home through the dark empty city, holding hands to keep the other close.

"I'm so fucking cold." Louis whines, gripping onto Harry's arm like he's gonna be able to give him some warmth.

"So am I." Harry deadpans, one handedly trying to fish the keys out of his pocket, careful to not break their touch. Now they're touching again, he doesn't want to do anything to risk Louis moving away again like he did when they were on the couch.

As they finally make it inside —turns out unlocking a door with one hand is not that easy—they stand there stranded in the hallway. Their completely drenched clothes create small puddles of rain water on the floor and on the floor mat. Neither of them wants to walk all that water through their apartment. Yes, they may be guys but they're used to keeping it kind of clean here.

"Wait." Louis nudges Harry to step aside, "I'm just gonna-" He trails off as he first kicks off his shoes, then he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the radiator in the hallway. He takes off his socks and neatly hangs them next to his jacket.

"Louis, what the hell are you doing." Harry asks, looking at him with both brows raised so high, it's gotta be at least 5cm each.

Louis doesn't reply but dances around awkwardly while peeling off his wet jeans. Have you ever realized how tough that is? Anyway, he finally gets them off and then just stands there before Harry in his wet boxers and a completely wet white tee, both pieces of clothing perfectly clinging to his body.

Harry opens his mouth to say something but no words come out as he can't stop staring at Louis. His eyes travel up and down, but then settling at Louis' face for safety.

God, if he even knew what he's doing to Harry right now.

Louis innocently looks up at Harry—who's looking a little flushed at the moment—and holds out his wet jeans for him to take. "Can you hold onto this for a sec?"

Honestly, anything Louis would've asked from him right now, Harry would've done it in an instant. So, of course, he grabs the wet jeans and holds it for him.

Louis then spins around creating a sprinkler like effect with his wet hair, then takes off his wet tee as well, he throws it over his shoulder for Harry to catch. His wet skin glistening in the light of the hallway as he makes his way through the door to the kitchen.

He hears Louis open and close some cabinets in the distance and before he knows it, he's back in the hallway carrying a laundry basket and two towels.

"Not sure if you want a towel if you're gonna shower as well but here you go." He yanks the wet jeans out of Harry's hands and puts the towel in it. "You can put your clothes in here."

Harry nods, unable to form words as he takes in Louis' appearance. He looks so good. Harry has to restrain himself from looking anywhere below Louis' chest. He knows that down there, Louis' boxers are clinging onto his body in such a vulgar way, Harry needs to absolutely not look there if he wants to stay decent.

"Harry?"

Louis question makes him realize he's been saying something to him. "Sorry, what?"

Louis rolls his eyes, what is up with this man. "I said, take off your clothes because-"

"Okay, that's very soon I would say." Harry interrupts, trying his best to keep a straight face as he sees Louis getting the double meaning of his words. "I've only known you for a hot minute."

Goshhhhh come on.

Louis internally tries to slap away the image in his head, where he might actually say that sentence, but in a different manner. "Shut up Harry."

Harry grins and starts to take off his jacket, "If you wanted to get in my pants you could've just said so."

"Shut upppp." Louis groans, "I'm gonna shower and after that I'm gonna make some tea for us."

"Without me?"

Louis just stands there dumbfounded, because the fuck is he on about, "The fuck you mean without you?"

Harry just grins, that annoying, irritating, (read: adorable) grin of his. "Nothing. Go shower, I'll see you in a bit."

Louis barely makes it to the shower before half-falling onto the floor and stumbling into the shower wall, he barely feels his feet anymore due to the cold. He grabs the showerhead and lets the water spray onto his hands. It feels okay-ish but he know's it won't be a good idea to turn it hotter yet. But even when he sprays the luke warm water onto his feet it feels burning hot. He winces as he forces himself to let the water run over his body. It takes a while before the water isn't stinging his skin anymore.

He blows out some air through his lips as he leans back against the showerwall, just standing there for a while underneath the warm water. Every time his body is used to the warmth, he turns up the heat because he keeps on feeling coldness in his body.

He's almost positive that the coldness isn't even coming from his skin anymore, but is being pumped into his veins by his heart. The same heart that is feeling so heavy for Harry.

He's angry. Angry at the man who groomed Harry, the man who caused his trauma. He can't even begin to imagine how hard life must've been for Harry at that young age. And he's feeling sad. Sad that there are people out there that wreck other peoples lives with a snap of their fingers and surely go on living like nothing happened. The little tiny mini amount of hope Louis still might have had in society has been ripped away tonight.

Louis slowly breathes out, the heart ache tugging on his heart flowing down the drain a little bit with each breath he takes.

Once he feels like he's warmed up a significant amount, he turns the shower off and dries himself off before walking over to his bedroom. He throws on the thickest sweater he can find and his warmest joggers.

He prepares some tea for the both of them, but they're both so tired they don't even make it through half of it.

Louis is the first to stand up and announces an: "I'm going to bed." He lingers a bit around the kitchen until Harry stands up as well, then Louis takes a step forward and pulls Harry into a hug. Harry is taken a bit by surprise but soon relaxes in his touch.

"Goodnight Harry." Louis mumbles against his chest, Harry's familiar scent engulfing him.

-

Louis turns and turns. Slaps his pillow into shape. Takes some extra blankets, then throws them off his bed again. Putting some extra clothes on and taking them off because he feels like he's suffocating a minute later.

He's so damn tired, he can't even keep his eyes open. But sometimes, being too tired to even lift a finger, doesn't mean you can sleep.

He keeps rewinding today in his head.

The afternoon at the market. How everything felt good.

The movie night at Stella's, with Luke. How it felt good at first but then he sensed distance coming between them two and then Luke's comment.

The talk in the park. How bad Harry must've felt.

Louis groans, turning around once more. He can't warm up either, his feet feel deadly cold. His brain is pounding the fuck out of his head. Not gonna lie, he feels like shit. He needs needs needs to sleep because he has to go to work tomorrow and it's fucking late already.

On the other side of the wall Harry is lying wide awake in his bed as well. Turning and turning around in his bed. Somewhere deep in his body there's this lingering feeling of feeling unsafe, used, in his own skin, so he can't fully relax. He keeps thinking about everything and nothing in particular at the same time.

He keeps rewinding the past in his head. Stuck in the same endless circle. Here's to another sleepless night.

Fortunately, or unfortunately maybe, he doesn't have anything on his schedule tomorrow except for a class late afternoon. So that means he could sleep in. But the truth is, he won't. Because he's never been able to sleep well anymore after what happened. Sleeping with one eye open is reality for him.

After turning for the millionth time he suddenly realizes he hasn't put on his music. It's dead silent in here. He hates the silence. But he can't put on music as loud as he needs to to drown out the thoughts with Louis sleeping in the next room.

Or that's what he thought, because he suddenly hears a faint noise in the kitchen. It's so far away Harry's not sure if he heard it correctly or that he's imagining it. After that it's silent again so Harry must've imagined it.

He sighs and swings his legs over the edge of his bed, might as well get some tea to try and help him fall asleep.

As he enters the kitchen, he's met with a very grumpy, tired looking Louis pouring himself some tea.

"Can't sleep?" Harry's sudden question startles Louis, causing him to accidentally pour some hot water next to the mug onto the counter.

Grabbing a towel Louis wipes the countertop down immediately. "No I can't and I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, you didn't." Harry tastes the dispair in Louis voice.

It's silent between them for a moment, the only sounds heard are the ticking clock and the scraping sound of another filled up mug being shoved towards Harry.

For a while they're just looking at each other while sipping their teas.

"I'm so so so motherfucking cold. And my head is killing me." Louis whispers, finally finishing up his mug.

"Join me then." Harry says, putting down his mug, clearly not tolerating any contradiction.

Louis looks up at Harry, what the fuck does he mean. "Join you?" Too tired to think about what Harry might be insisting.

Harry just nods, forming words seems like a big task when you're this tired. He puts a hand on Louis' lower back and gently pushes him towards his bedroom.

"Wha-?" Louis looks up at Harry in confusion. What is he insisting?

"We might as well share my bed." Harry breathes out, pointing at it. "You're cold, I need someone next to me to feel safe. We both can't sleep, we could try it at least."

And so they end up in Harry's bed together.

Louis' head on Harry's chest, who's mindlessly raking his fingers through Louis' hair. Harry's body heat is finally creating some warmth for Louis. Their bodies are pressed against each other, their limbs intertwined.

"You're so warm and smell so good.." He mumbles into Harry's chest. His body completely relaxes in his arms. Harry's not even sure he said that, but that's what he could make of the mumble.

"And you make me feel safe." Harry whispers back as he presses a soft kiss on Louis' hair, quite sure he is already asleep in his arms. His whole body clinging onto Harry's. Fingers grasping onto his tee.

And it's just what Harry needs. Just what he needs to be able to finally let go of the hyperawareness and just relax, enjoy the calmness, and make his head stop chewing his thoughts.

And just like that, Harry's dozed off too.

A/N: let me know what you think! and if you've come this far, thanks SO much for your support!!!

Chapter 24: Chapter 24

"So, you're saying you two slept in the same bed and in the morning you just went away without telling him?" Stella asks in unbelief.

"We didn't really, like, do anything.. So yeah? I had to go to work." Louis replies, twisting the ring on his index finger around and around. Trying to justify his actions from this morning even though they've been eating at him for tje whole day.

"Wait what?" Luke, who hadn't been part of the conversation yet, now asks. Clearly intrigued.

It's monday night, the night after they went to Stella's to watch the movie. They're currently at one of their favorite places to eat, meeting up just after work because their schedules have been mega hectic lately and this works out well for them so it's become a bit of a regular thing. They need to eat anyway so why not combine the two.

Today it's Niall, Luke and Stella with him. Michael's still out of town and Niall just came back.

And it's also the night after Louis and Harry shared the bed. Louis wasn't sure what to do this morning so he just slipped out of bed and went to work. It was way too early to wake Harry anyway.

Louis now wants to silently gesture Stella to not say anything but it's too late already. "They slept in the same bed."

"What?" Luke shoots up straight within a second, "They as in you and..?"

Louis nods, not sure what to think of it himself either. "Yes him. Nothing happened though. He has opened up about something really heavy last night. Something very fucking heavy and personal. And after that we both couldn't sleep so he figured it might help if we shared his bed. And I joined him, and it did help.."

"Well, that's kind of.. intimate, ain't it?" Luke's aussie accent seeps through his words, this time a bit more noticable than usual.

"That's what I keep saying." Stella says, propping up her foot on the bench in the booth while stuffing another parmesan fry into her mouth.

"Yeah.." Louis trails off, "It's been circling in my head all day. It didn't exactly feel romantic or anything, but it also wasn't just casual either. I'm not sure if I crossed a line."

Luke sits back in his seat, crossing his arms as he stares at Louis intently. "But what exactly is the problem here?"

Niall, who had been silent for the whole conversation nudges Luke, "Shut it mate."

"No, I won't." Luke sighs loudly in annoyance, as he then points his finger at Louis, "I just want to know what the problem is? Because you were there for him. That's a good thing. Also the way he felt comfortable to ask you to share his bed.. You didn't cross any lines by accepting that offer. You were just being, you know, a human."

Niall nods, he looks like he didn't expect that comment but can't but agree with it. "Agreed."

Louis lets out a slow breath, his fingers still twisting the ring like it might wind the answer out of him. "I know. You're right. It's just that.." He pauses, as he looks down at the table. "It felt like the right thing to do, like he needed it.. me. And I wanted to be there for him. But now I can't stop wondering if I was doing it just because he needed me, or because I wanted to be close to him."

Stella stops chewing. Her eyes flick to Luke and then back to Louis. "Oh." She says, soft like she doesn't dare to speak up loudly.

Luke tilts his head, his hand wiping his curls from his forehead. "You wanted to be close to him?"

God, why did he phrase it like that? Louis internally panics. A wave of regret washes over his face, why did he even say anything? "I don't know, okay? Maybe I did. It's kind of blurry.. He opened up about something really raw and heavy. And all of what happened after that, it didn't feel romantic, but it didn't just feel like nothing either. And fuck. Now I can't stop thinking about it."

A soft silence falls between them. The clinking of plates, glass and silverware becoming louder around them.

Niall then clears his throat, glancing around rather awkwardly like he half-wants to change the subject—but doesn't. "Lou, you sure this isn't about something more?" He asks gently.

Louis frowns, "More how?"

"Well, like," Niall says, choosing his words carefully. "This thing with you and him, maybe it mattered to you. In a different way. And maybe that's why you can't stop thinking about it."

Hmm.

"You sure it's not that you're in love with him?" Luke—ever so casually—says, leaning forward again, elbows on the table.

Louis flinches, barely visible but just enough so Luke picks up on it. Louis shakes his head, "I'm not sure if there is a point to liking him like that."

"Doesn't have to be."Luke shrugs, "Still doesn't change how you feel."

Silence drops over the table. Stella leans back slowly, eyes locked on Louis.

He exhales through his nose, almost a laugh but not quite. " This got real deep, real fucking fast."

Niall half-smiles, putting his arm around Louis for a light side hug. " Welcome to life, I guess."

For a while after that, they're just enjoying their food.

-

The quiet in their apartment feels heavier than usual to Harry as he steps inside again. Not necessarily lonely—just full. Like there's still an echo of last night lingering in the corners, tucked into the sheets that are still slightly crumpled on one side of the bed.

He hasn't touched them.

He hasn't even made the bed.

Instead, he's been pacing between the kitchen and the living room, picking things up and putting them back down—his phone, a book, an empty glass. His body feels like it should be doing something else, but his head is still stuck in that strange, tender space from the night before. The way he had opened up. The way Louis had stayed. Hadn't flinched. Hadn't left.

The way Louis had just climbed into bed like it wasn't a big deal.

But it had been. At least to Harry.

Now it's around dinner time but he hasn't seen Louis yet. He's debated whether or not to ask Louis if he's eating at home but hasn't dared to do so yet. He's not sure Louis would want that.

He keeps replaying it—not just the words, but the feeling of Louis there beside him. Close but not crowding. Warm, steady, quietly present. At one point in the night, Harry had turned over and Louis had been awake, staring at the ceiling like he was holding something too.

Neither of them had said anything.

Now, with the day slipping into evening, Harry's skin itches with the silence. Louis had gone early—before sunrise, quietly. No note, no message. He hadn't expected one. Not really. But still...

He had hoped to see a message when he had turned his phone back on after his exam, it was easier than he expected so it didn't take long but still, there was a lingering hope down in his stomach. That he might have received a message from him.

He now grabs his phone off the arm of the couch and opens a blank message again. Then closes it. Opens it again.

Types. Deletes.

Waits.

Then finally, after standing still long enough to hear his own heartbeat, he types something simple:

H. Hey. Didn't get a chance to say thanks for last night. I know it probably felt weird. Just... I really appreciated you being there. Hope work wasn't too brutal.

Harry hovers his finger for a second longer.

Then he hits send.

He immediately tosses the phone onto the couch like it's hot to the touch. He walks away, heading for the kitchen again—but his ears are already listening for the notification that might or might not come.

-

Louis is mid-slurp of his drink when his phone buzzes on the table, the screen lighting up face-down.

And with that, everyone goes quiet.

Louis really doesn't need to flip it over to know who it is. Somehow, he just knows.

Still though, he takes his time, lets a minute pass before picking up the phone and turning it around in his hand.

There's one unread message showing up. The name of the sender glowing on the screen, like a question.

Louis swiftly swipes his thumb over the screen, unlocking the phone.

H. Hey. Didn't get a chance to say thanks for last night. I know it probably felt weird. Just... I really appreciated you being there. Hope work wasn't too brutal.

The words hit him softer than he expects. They're kind. Carefully weaved together. Just like last night had been.

He reads it twice, then a third and a fourth time. His stomach forms a knot, but it's not really anxiety—not exactly. It feels like being seen.

Louis finally peels his eyes off the screen and looks up slowly. Stella's watching him. So is Luke, maybe even more intently than she is. And Niall is trying so fucking hard to pretend not to care but he's failing so miserably.

"It was him." Louis says quietly, of course interpreting their silence as the question on their lips.

"And?" Stella asks, raising a brow.

Louis turns the phone around and puts it on the table in front of her, Luke and Niall immediately bending over the table towards the phone as well.

Luke exhales through his mouth. "Well." He says, leaning back again. "That's not just a 'cheers for the chat' type of text."

"No." Louis nods, grabbing the phone back. "It's not."

He stares at the message again for another second, then starts typing.

He pauses, deletes and starts typing again. Repeats that process a while until Luke grabs his phone.

"I just don't want to say the wrong thing." Louis admits, sighing in defeat.

"Then don't fucking overthink it," Niall says, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "Say what you feel. Or maybe, at least say something honest."

Luke's thumbs fly over the screen. He rereads his work and hands the phone to Louis.

Louis reads the message, silently approves and lets his thumb hover over the send-button for a bit.

But then quickly presses it.

Fuck it.

L. it didn't feel weird,
i'm glad i was there too

Louis mouths a 'thank you' to Luke, grateful he understands what he wanted to say but couldn't easily put into words.

-

Louis hears the front door click shut behind him as he kicks off his work boots in the hallway.

The apartment is quiet, dim. Just the kitchen light is on, casting long shadows over the floors. It's creating an almost surreal atmosphere, like Louis entered some alternate universe where nothing of this was ever real.

Harry's hoodie is thrown over one of the chairs by the table, his keys are in the dish by the door.

So he's home.

Louis heart skips a beat when Harry walks into the kitchen barefooted, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. The warm scent of his body wash lingering in the air.

Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Louis heart skips a beat when Harry walks into the kitchen barefooted, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. The warm scent of his body wash lingering in the air.

There's steam still clinging to him, faint in the warm air. He smells like cedarwood and mint, a smell Louis has come to associate with comfort.

Harry looks up at Louis, catching his eye. Resting the towel mid-air.

"Hey." He says, his voice is soft, a bit unsure maybe. There's no sharpness to it, but something cautious lingers beneath. Like he's testing the temperature of the room.

"Hi." Louis replies, too fast and then too slow. He hovers awkwardly near the fridge, opening it just to give his hands something to do. "Didn't think you'd be home yet."

Harry shrugs lightly, "Finished early. Figured I'd just.. be here."

Silence falls between them, but it's not the kind that begs to be filled. It just is there, heavier than usual.

Louis opens the fridge, stares blankly, closes it again. He can still feel the cold air on his arm as he turns towards Harry. "You got my message?"

"Yeah," Harry says, tossing the towel over the chair. "I appreciated it. Really."

Louis nods once, barely. "I didn't know what to say."

Harry lets out a breath that's almost a laugh, but it sounds tired. "Neither did I."

Louis turns around, finally daring to fully face him. He doesn't say anything but just quietly observes Harry, who's looking anywhere but Louis at the moment.

There's water still clinging to Harry's skin. A droplet rolls slowly down from the edge of his jaw to his neck, disappearing under the collar of his oversized hoodie. His curls are damp and soft, plastered to his forehead, starting to lift in places where they've begun to dry. In that wild way they always do when he lets it air-dry.

The hoodie hangs loose on his frame, sleeves bunched at the elbows, neckline wide enough to expose the sharp line of his collarbone — and something about that quiet intimacy, the unguardedness of it, knots in Louis' chest like a bruise blooming.

Louis feels heat rising beneath his skin, but he's not sure what it actually is. Maybe it's part guilt, part longing, part ache. Like his body knows before his mind does that this moment matters.

"This morning..." he begins, and his voice cracks. He clears his throat. "I didn't mean to just leave. I had to go to work early, and I didn't want to wake you."

"I know," Harry says, then pauses — like he's deciding whether it's safe to say the rest.

"But?" Louis asks, his stomach turns.

Harry bites the inside of his cheek. Eyes flitting away, to the floor, the counter, anywhere but Louis. "I woke up and the bed was empty. You were fucking gone. And I just-" He meets Louis' gaze. "It felt awful."

Louis blinks. The words hit him in the gut, painfully, enough to make his breath hitch.

"I didn't think..." he starts, then stops. "I didn't mean for it to feel like that. I'm so sorry."

"I know you didn't," Harry says quickly. "But still. After everything I said, after letting myself actually need someone, which I find fucking hard to do. I woke up and it was like it hadn't happened. Like we had never happened."

Guilt coils in Louis' stomach, sharp and immediate. His shoulders tense like he's bracing for something colder than Harry's words have been. "I thought I was giving you space."

"I get that," Harry says. "I do. But I guess... I didn't want space."

He didn't want space.

Louis nods slowly as he feels it everywhere. In the tightness of his chest, the way his breath hitches. His heartbeat floods his ears, thick and relentless, like the ocean in a seashell. It's all he can hear. That, and the echo of Harry's voice lingering in the air.

"I didn't know how to ask you to stay," Harry adds, voice lower now, sucking Louis back into reality. "And when you didn't... it confirmed the thing I always assume. That I'm too much. Or it didn't mean anything. Or it was just... convenient."

"Harry," Louis says, and this time there's no hesitation. "That's not what it was. At all."

Harry swallows hard, his jaw tight. He doesn't look convinced, not fully. Louis steps forward, the space between them shrinking, charged with something fragile.

"You let me in," Louis says. "And I should've said something. I should've left a note. Something."

"I didn't want a note," Harry mutters, looking away, voice barely audible.

"I wanted you."

And there it is, cracked open between them.

Raw.

Unavoidable.

Louis' breath hitches. The air is thick with everything unspoken. He feels it everywhere: in his chest, in his hands, in the ringing silence of the dim kitchen.

"I'm here now," he says softly, steadying himself. "If you still want that."

Harry nods once, and it's not dramatic — it's real. Quiet, but solid.

They don't move fast. They don't have to.

But they're closer now. Standing in the same place.

Finally.

Louis steps a bit forward, "Last night, when I climbed in with you, it's been on my mind all fucking day."

Harry nods, "Mine too."

"I was worried I maybe made you uncomfortable."

"You didn't." Harry says quickly. "You helped. More than I realized."

Louis exhales, "Truth is, I needed it too. You."

Harry's breath catches for a second, but he holds steady. He shifts his weight slightly, his arms still crossed over his chest like he's holding himself together. The silence stretches, but it doesn't pull them apart, if anything, it wraps tighter around them.

Louis is the one who moves first. Just a step. Barely anything. But enough that he can feel the heat radiating from Harry's skin, can smell the cedar and mint up close now, like memory and comfort all at once.

"Can I...?" Louis starts, not even sure of what he's asking.

Harry nods before he finishes. "Yeah."

Louis reaches out and touches the edge of Harry's sleeve, then gently slides his hand down, letting his fingers trail along the length of his forearm until they reach his wrist. It's not much, just skin and skin, but Harry breathes in like it's the first air he's taken all day. Like he finally realized he can breathe again.

"I hated not knowing if I'd fucked it all up," Louis says, voice barely above a whisper. "Hated thinking I hurt you more by trying not to."

"You didn't fuck it up," Harry mumbles, staring down at where Louis is touching him. "You scared me. But I think I was already scared."

Louis breathes out sharply through his nose, somewhat resembling a laugh but not yet. "Same."

Harry looks up. "So what now?"

Louis squeezes his wrist, feeling the skin taut underneath his fingers. "Now... I think we stop standing in the kitchen pretending we're not tired of being apart."

A beat passes. Harry tilts his head slightly. "Was that your smooth way of asking me to go to bed with you?"

Louis' mouth twitches. "You wish."

Harry snorts, something easing behind his eyes. "Yeah."

There's a pause, then they both laugh — soft, a little unsure, but genuine. It breaks something open between them. Not the tension, exactly, but the weight of it. Like the storm's passed, and everything still standing is real.

Louis lets his hand slide down, their fingers brushing again, then curling together naturally. And Harry doesn't let go.

They leave the kitchen without saying more. There's no need to narrate it now. The apartment is dim and still, only showing the quiet creak of the floorboards and the rustle of fabric as they pass through the living room.

Louis opens Harry's door like it's something sacred.

The bed is still messy from the morning — Harry never made it, and Louis never came back to fix it. Somehow, that feels fitting.

Harry crawls onto one side without being told, folding into the space like it's where he was always meant to be. He pulls the blanket up over his lap and leans back against the pillow, watching Louis in the low light.

Louis stands at the edge of the bed for a moment longer, then sits on the edge, eyes flicking toward Harry.

"You look nervous," Harry notices.

"I'm not," Louis lies through his teeth. "Just... kind of in shock you still want me here."

Harry reaches out and tugs gently on the sleeve of Louis' jumper. "I never didn't."

That's all it takes.

Louis lies down beside him, slow and cautious, like if he moves too fast, the moment might vanish. The blanket shifts between them, a little too much space at first.

But then Harry moves closer, careful and intentional, until their legs are brushing. His arm finds its way under Louis' head, like an invitation, and Louis fits against his side like he remembers this. Like he was never meant to leave.

They lie like that for a while. Breathing. Listening. Letting the room go quiet around them.

Louis presses his nose against Harry's shoulder, and mumbles, "I don't deserve how understanding you've been."

Harry turns his face toward him. "Don't say that."

"But I—"

"Lou." Harry's voice is firmer now, still soft but solid. "You showed up. You came back. You stayed. That counts for something."

Louis swallows thickly. Nods.

There's a silence again — quieter now. Comfortable. Full.

Eventually, Harry shifts just enough to rest his chin on Louis' head.

"You snore, you know," Harry whispers against his hair.

"I do not."

"You do. Like a sad bear."

Louis scoffs and nudges him with his knee. "You grind your teeth."

"No way."

"And you drool."

"Alright, you can sleep on the floor," Harry mutters, grinning now.

But neither of them moves.

They fall asleep like that, not all tangled up, but not far apart either. Just close enough to feel it. The weight of what they'd nearly lost. The relief of still having it.

And somewhere between heartbeats, Louis realizes this isn't nothing.

It never was.

Chapter 26: Chapter 26

Louis, Stella, Luke, Niall, and Michael linger near the popcorn stand, chatting and laughing, as they wait for Harry. When Harry finally arrives, he's not alone, Zayn and Calum walk right behind him.

Louis's stomach knots.

Calum.

The same Calum from last Christmas at Harry's cabin. The one Louis shamelessly flirted with just to get under Harry's skin. And now here he is, right in front of Louis.

Calum has a sleek grin on his face as he sends Louis a wink. Calum, who hasn't changed a bit since December. Since the snow-covered cabin and the stupid, stupid actions of Louis there.

"Hey, sorry we're late," Harry says, flashing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and directs it to no one in particular.

Louis nods but stays put, eyes flickering between Harry and Calum. Luke, standing beside him, suddenly pauses mid-sentence, but Louis can't even recall what he was talking about.

He hadn't expected seeing Calum again would hit him like this. A painful heat curls and turns behind his ribs. It isn't guilt, not really.

But it's something close to it, at least.

"Wait... Cal?" Luke squints at him.

Calum snaps his head up, somewhat in shock. "There's no fucking way. You're Louis' Luke?"

"What the actual-" Luke half laughs, his voice a bit unsure, making Louis hyperaware of it. "And you're.." Lukes brain clearly trips, his thinking almost audible. But he recovers quickly, with a wince. "You're.. Harry's Calum?"

He immediately cringes, "That sounds so wrong. Like you two are togeth- ah fuck just forget it."

Calum laughs, "You're not wrong, I mean-" He throws Harry a knowing smirk, "We did spend Christmas together."

Louis tenses at that remark. And so does Harry.

Luke's tender fingers curl around Louis' wrist, as to guide him away from the situation. But Louis can't just let this go. He needs to know what is going on.

"You two know each other?" Harry's voice is cold, almost icey.

Luke nods, "Yup."

Calum nods, his eyes focused on Louis instead of Luke. "Yeah, been talking to Luke about Harry's Louis.."

Luke grins a bit, shaking his head. "And I've been telling Calum how much Harry pisses me off."

Harry purses his lips like he is going to say something, but decides against it. He knows Luke is just saying that to get under his skin, right?

Calum raises an eyebrow. "Wait—you know Harry too?"

Luke laughs. "Sort of. I'm the guy Harry hates hanging around Louis. Met him through Louis."

Louis leans back, enjoying the irony. "So Harry and I have been talking about you guys too, without realizing you two actually know each other."

Calum grins at Luke, " Sounds familiar."

"Lots of stories to tell." Luke nods, Louis picks up on his sarcasm but Harry doesn't.

Harry's eyes narrow, jaw tightening as he watches Luke and Calum.

"Stories?" Harry snaps.

Luke shrugs, trying to keep it light. "Just catching up."

Louis sees Harry's frustration rise, as his fists clench briefly at his sides.

"So, you two are close?" Louis asks Calum with a grin, trying desperately to change the subject.

"We've been mates for ages," Calum says, throwing an arm around Luke's shoulders.

Harry's smile fades, replaced by a guarded expression. "Good to know."

Louis tastes the discomfort of Harry in his tone, almost as if he's feeling like he might lose his friends once they're friends with someone else.

Louis meets Harry's gaze coolly. "Looks like my friends and your friends are finally mixing."

Harry's smile is guarded, eyes leaving no room for emotion. "Just don't forget who you live with."

Louis holds his stare, raising his brows. Almost daringly. "Believe me, I will never fucking forget."

Luke laughs, oblivious to the tension as they head into the movie theater. Louis feels a rush of triumph somewhere in his body. Harry's jealousy is clear as day, but tonight, the pieces are starting to fall into place.

The familiar scent of buttered popcorn and the soft buzz of conversation fill the cinema as Luke enters the middle row first, then Calum and Louis, followed by Harry. Michael, Niall, Zayn and Stella slip into their seats as well, just a row ahead.

The lights dim in the room, as the previews start, so the group settles into their seats. The buzz of excitement around the new movie fades as the screen flickers to life. Most of them clearly ready to enjoy the night but already eyeing the shifting energy between their friends.

Louis himself is very aware of the tension in the room.

Harry's eyes are sharp, almost too focused on him whenever Louis laughs at something Luke says. It's subtle but unmistakable, Harry's barely disguised jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

Luke, on the other hand, looks very relaxed, leaning back and nudges Calum's knee lightly under the armrest. Louis notices Calum's quick intake of breath, a flicker of tension passing between them. He's seen that look before: brief, charged, maybe a residue something more than just friendship. A brief fling, maybe, or something they both agreed to leave unspoken.

Louis's stomach twists but not with jealousy exactly. He likes Luke, sure, they're close, and Luke's one of the few who gets him completely. But it's not that he's in love with him.

He watches as Harry's gaze snaps back to Luke and Calum, narrowing slightly. Harry's hands grip the armrest a little too tight.

Luke catches Louis's eyes for a second, grinning like he knows exactly what's going on but chooses to play it cool. Louis forces a smile back but can't shake the uneasy feeling settling in his chest.

Calum shifts closer to Luke, a small smile tugging at his lips, but his eyes flicker to Harry for just a moment, as if weighing something. Louis wonders what's going through Calum's head—whether he feels Harry's jealousy too, or if he's just caught in the crossfire.

The movie previews play on, but Louis barely registers the scenes. Instead, he's caught in a complicated web of looks, touches, and silent tension hugging them like a tight blanket.

At one point, Harry leans slightly toward Louis, voice low. "You've been laughing at Luke a lot."

Louis tilts his head, teasing. "He's funny. You should try it sometime."

Harry's lips twitch, half-smiles, half-grimaces. "Maybe I will."

Louis's heart skips a beat, and he knows tonight will be anything but simple.

-

The movie finally starts to play on the big screen, but the tension between the group is thicker than the shadows in the theater.

Calum shifts his body, this time he moves even closer to Louis, his knee brushing lightly against Louis's leg. Louis freezes for a second, heart thumping in his throat, not sure if it's the movie or Calum's casual touch. Calum's eyes glint mischievously as he leans in just a little, putting his hand on Louis knee, speaking low enough so only Louis can hear.

"Don't mind me. Just here to enjoy the show... and some good company."

Calum's hand lingers a little too long, fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns over the rough material of his jeans. Louis feels the heat rise in his cheeks but keeps his eyes on the screen, trying not to show how much the touch affects him. Harry's reaction, however, is harder to mask.

Luke watches Calum with a frown. When Calum lets his hand brush over Louis's knee, Luke's jaw tightens, and he leans in, voice low but clear. "Really? Here?"

Calum grins, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Chill Luke, he's fine with it."

Luke raises his brows but decides against saying anything else. He bites down on his bottom lip, trying to ignore what's going on next to him. He doesn't understand what's going on but he also does completely understand. Calums eyes were daring, making Luke unsettled with how much Calum could seem to read him.

Louis swallows hard, eyes flickering to Harry at that remark. Harry's jaw tightens, his hand twitching on his armrest like he wants to reach out but doesn't. His eyes continuously dart between Calum's hand on Louis' leg and the easy smile Louis gives Calum in return.

Every few minutes, he throws Louis a glance that's sharp and almost accusing. When Calum laughs quietly at something Louis says under his breath, Harry snaps, voice low but pointed: "You're distracting the others."

Louis swallows again, meeting Harry's gaze, but Harry looks away quickly, cheeks flushed as if trying to play it cool. His voice softens but still carries an edge: "Don't let Calum get to you."

Calum, smirking, nudges Louis again, whispering, "Don't mind Harry, he's got a thing about me."

Luke, sitting on Louis's other side, watches all this with a frown tightening his brow. His jaw clenches visibly when Calum touches Louis, subtle but noticeable.

"You sure you want to keep playing that game?" Luke murmurs to Calum, his tone low but serious.

Calum shrugs with a smirk. "Why not? It's all harmless fun."

But little do they know that none of this is harmless fun to Calum. It's all got a deeper layer beneath it. He doesn't know how to undo the mess he just got himself in but the only thing he knows for sure is that it's working.

He's attracting the attention. And that not only from the one person he craves it from the most, but also the others.

Luke slowly shakes his head, voice low enough that only Louis and Calum can hear. "You're messing with the wrong people."

Louis glances at Luke, sensing the edge in his words and the flicker of jealousy beneath it. Luke's always been protective, but now there's something sharper, more possessive in him.

Luke leans in, whispers something sharp that makes Calum only grin wider. Louis can tell Luke finds the whole thing hilarious and Calum clearly enjoying poking the bear that is Harry.

Harry's breath catches, fingers curling into a fist under the armrest. His glare sharpens, shooting a quick, dark look at Calum, who just smirks in response, deliberately letting his hand rest a moment longer on Louis's leg.

Louis tries to keep his cool but feels the heat creeping up his cheeks. Part of him likes the attention, Calum's teasing is a welcome distraction. But another part feels that familiar twist of guilt.

He wants Harry.

Only Harry.

Not this game, not the jealousy.

But he can't stop himself. It's this undeniable itch to fuck everything up.

Harry's voice comes low, strained almost. "Careful, Calum. You're playing with fire."

Calum's grin turns teasing. "Maybe I like to watch things burn."

Louis's eyes flick to Harry again, catching that raw jealousy in his face. For a moment, Louis feels like he could reach out and bridge the distance between them.

But instead, Calum's fingers trace lightly upward, grazing Louis's knee in a way that sends a clear message: this is a game, and he's winning.

Stella leans back her head a little, watching the subtle war unfold from the row in front of them. "You boys gonna settle this, or just stare each other down all night?"

Louis finally laughs softly, breaking the tension. "Guess we're just getting started."

Harry's mouth quirks into a reluctant smile, but his eyes stay locked on Louis, as if silently daring him to make a decision between the two of them.

Louis's heart pounds in his chest, wildly, loudly. Tonight, the lines are blurred. But if one thing's clear, it's that Harry is the one he can't stop thinking about.

Stella leans in again, whispering into Louis's ear, her voice bright. "You two could start your own drama series. Want me to throw some popcorn at someone to lighten things up?"

Louis chuckles softly, though his stomach knots. "It's nothing. Just a crowded theater."

Niall, from the row ahead, spins around with a grin. "Nothing? Mate, you guys are the real show here. I'm just waiting for popcorn to fly."

Michael snickers beside him. "Yeah, at this rate, we're watching the Louis-Harry-Calum saga instead of the movie."

Louis's pulse quickens as Calum's fingers keep to trace slow, teasing circles, absentmindedly but deliberate enough to notice. He feels Harry's mood change next to him. Like his anger is radiating off of him. He tries moving his knee away but he feels Calums fingertips dig into his leg to prevent that.

For a while everyone is focused on the movie. Or at least that's what it seems like.

Because he knows nothing is what it seems tonight.

The movie drones on, but Louis can barely focus on the plot. He wants to pull Calum's hand away, to reach for Harry and settle the storm in his eyes.

But part of him hesitates. A selfish little voice in the back of his mind enjoying the heat Calum stirs up, the way he makes Louis feel alive in a way Harry's careful coolness doesn't.

Then there's Luke, just beside him, quietly watching everything unfold with that familiar crease of concern on his brow. Louis knows Luke is unsettled, maybe even jealous himself.

He sees it in the way Luke's eyes flick over to Calum more than once, like an unspoken question.

He also notices the way Calum pretends to stare at the screen. Pretends, because he knows Calum is glancing over at Luke multiple times as well.

Louis's heart twists again. He wants to protect Luke, too, to reassure him that none of this changes what they have — but Luke is Luke. Strong, proud, protective. And right now, he looks as caught in the storm as anyone.

When Calum takes his hand off of Louis' leg to open his drink, Louis immediately notices the way Harry breathes out in relief and his shoulders sag down a little like he's let go of the tension in them.

But not for long because as soon as Calum puts away his drink, he rests his hand on Louis knee again. His hand weighs heavily on Louis.

Harry doesn't even have to turn his head to know what is going on again. But he still looks over, meeting Louis' eyes. Louis notices the flicker of something breakable in Harry's eyes.

"Fuck me." Harry breathes out, not knowing whether or not he just said that out loud.

But he probably did, as Zayn throws him a knowing look from the row just in front.

And suddenly all of it gets too much for him.

He can't sit there anymore.

Not with Calum's hand on Louis's leg. Not with Louis laughing like nothing matters. Not with that low burn in his chest that's been building for months.

He doesn't even remember standing up. Doesn't care who saw. He just pushes through the theater door and lets it swing shut behind him, the air outside the screening room hitting cold against his overheated skin.

The hallway is dim and quiet. Too quiet.

He walks a few steps, gasping for breath and planting his palms on the edge of the water fountain. His reflection stares back at him in the metal curve, his eyes dark, jaw tight, like a stranger he barely recognizes.

"Fuck me." He mutters again under his breath, the words ghosting out of him like steam. Maybe Zayn heard him. Maybe everyone did. He doesn't care.

He just wants out of this feeling.

Everything within him is itching.

He wants all of this to stop.

It was supposed to be them having a fun night out, not Louis knowingly stirring his fingers in this open purrulent wound of his.

He hates hates hates feeling like this. But what can he do?

Is there any way he'd ever be okay with anyone so much as glancing at Louis?

Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Louis watches the door swing shut behind Harry, the soft click louder than any explosion rumbling from the movie screen. The absence hits like a vacuum, like Harry took all the oxygen with him.

Everything in Louis stills.

The flickering colors of the movie blur in front of him, but he's not watching anymore. He's not laughing. He's not doing anything.

Except feeling like utter shit.

He feels like such, such a bitch.

And well, if this isn't the consequences of his own actions anyway.

He leans back in his seat, arms crossed tight over his chest as he blows his breath out slowly. Maybe if he holds himself still enough, he can keep the guilt from blooming into something unbearable.

His head pounds a thousand colors and shapes. Great.

Stella looks over her shoulder, a million questions on her face, but she only mouths a "You okay?"

And no. Nothing is okay right now. So Louis shakes his head, knowing that Stella will be able to see the guilt dripping of his face.

It is pooling, boiling in his insides.

Because yeah, Calum had his hand on his knee.

And yeah, it was a bit of a game.

But Louis hadn't exactly stopped him, had he?

He didn't pull away.

Didn't say a word.

He let it happen. Worse, part of him liked it.

Liked the way Harry's eyes darkened, how his jaw clenched, how his attention zeroed in. He let it keep going, not just out of passiveness, but because some twisted part of him wanted Harry to feel it. To see it.

To react.

"Shit," Calum mutters suddenly, slumping forward in his seat, both hands in his hair. "Shit, I didn't mean for that to happen."

Louis doesn't say anything. He doesn't really trust himself to talk yet. He feels like screaming and crying at the same time.

Calum turns his head, voice lower now. "I'm serious. That... that wasn't what I thought would happen."

Louis sighs, dragging a hand over his face. "Yeah, well. It did."

Calum swallows. "I was being a dick. I got caught up in... I don't even know. The vibe. The stupid tension. I just—I'm sorry, Lou."

Louis finally looks at him, not angry, not even cold, just tired.

"It wasn't your fault," he says. "Not all of it, anyway."

Calum's brows knit. "I literally had my hand on your leg."

"Yeah," Louis says, voice flat. "But I let it stay there. I didn't say a damn thing. I knew what Harry was feeling, and I just... let him sit there with it."

He runs a hand through his hair, heart tugging heavy in his chest. "That's on me."

Calum exhales sharply. "You don't deserve to feel this shitty alone."

"I kinda do, though," Louis says quietly, a thousand thoughts racing behind his eyes. "I could've stopped it. I should've. But I didn't. Because some part of me wanted to see how far it'd go. How much Harry could take before he snapped."

He pauses, pressing his fingers into his face. "Guess I got my answer."

Calum leans back, guilt sitting plain on his face. "You love him, don't you?"

Louis doesn't answer right away. But his silence speaks louder than anything.

Calum nods and softly pushes Louis in his arm. "Then go fix it."

Louis looks down at his hands for a moment, before looking up at him. "You think he wants me to?"

"Maybe not right now," Calum admits. "But he needs you to."

Louis stands. Slowly, but with purpose.

He starts moving toward the exit without another word. Just before he steps through the door, Calum calls out softly, "I really am sorry, Lou."

Louis glances back, a faint, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Me too."

The hallway is dim and chilled, the hum of the theater muffled behind him. Louis spots Harry almost instantly. He's leaning against the water fountain, jaw tight, chest rising and falling too fast for someone who's just been watching a drama.

"Harry," he says, voice soft.

Harry doesn't turn.

Louis steps closer. "I'm not here to excuse anything. Just... Harry, can you look at me?"

Harry does. And the look in his eyes nearly drops Louis to the floor.

Not anger.

There's pain flying through his eyes. Raw and quiet and deeper than Louis expected.

"Was that fun for you?" Harry asks, voice low, steady. "Watching me sit there while he touched you?"

Louis flinches. "No. It wasn't."

Harry gives a humorless smile. "Could've fooled me."

"I didn't mean for it to happen like that."

"But you let it," Harry says, and there's no venom in it.

Just truth, and that stings like hell.

Louis nods. He deserves that. "Yeah. I let it. And I'm sorry."

Harry's arms cross over his chest. "You didn't stop him."

"I know."

"You fucking smiled at it."

"I know," Louis says louder, almost desperate. "I didn't stop it, and I should've. I should've told him to back off. I should've said something. But I didn't because... because I liked the way you looked at me."

Harry blinks, his brows almost fly into his hair.

"I liked knowing you cared," Louis admits, voice rough. "It was selfish. Stupid. And I swear to god, I hated seeing you walk out more than anything."

Harry's throat works as he swallows. "I care, Louis. Of course I care. I care too much. That's the fucking problem."

Louis steps closer. "Then let me fix it."

Harry looks away for a moment. Then back at him. "And how exactly would you do that? By testing me more? Cause then I fucking refuse, I don't want to be someone you test."

"You're not," Louis says quietly. "I don't want to test you. I- I don't know why I keep doing shit like this."

Silence stretches again between them, tight and sticky.

"I'm tired of feeling like this Lou." Harry breathes out, stepping a little bit closer to Louis. Making him back up against the wall.

"I know."

"But do you really? I find it hard to understand that you'd purposely do something like this when you know about my issues." Harry's words cut Louis like a knife. He's right, you know. Louis knew what this would mean to Harry.

Harry reaches out his hand, hesitating, fingers curling just short of Louis' arm. Then he lets his hand fall by his side again. Not rejection, more restraint.

"I know that I- It's my personal issues and you're not responsible for that and I'm also already working on it but I-" Harry pauses, then finally grabbing Louis' wrist. "I need you to understand that you fuck me up when doing things like this. I need you to understand that if you're going to sleep in the same bed as me at night and then go and pull shit like this the next day, you're being insane. You were the one fucking person I felt safe with lately Louis."

Louis nods, knowing that if he'll talk he'll cry. He feels so so bad. What on earth did he expect anyway.

Then Harry sighs, his fingers leaving Louis' arm. "I need you to stop making me feel like I'm competing. I can't do that, not anymore."

Louis nods again. "You're not. You never were. Not really. It was all just noise. And I let it get loud."

Harry looks at him for a long, long moment. "Then stop playing with fire."

Louis steps close enough to reach him now, but doesn't touch him yet. "Only if you'll help me put it out."

For a second, Harry doesn't move. Then, slowly, he exhales and lets his forehead drop lightly to Louis's shoulder.

"I'm so fucking sorry Harry. I'm so sorry."

He feels Harry nod against his shoulder, not saying anything.

It's not forgiveness. Not yet.

But it's something, at least.

-

Inside the theater, the tension seems to have eased now that Harry and Louis have left, but something else still simmers quietly beneath the surface of the group.

Zayn and Stella share their popcorn, softly commenting on the movie together. Stella leans her head against Zayn's shoulder, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his calm presence. She senses something heavy between Louis and Harry but knows better than to push or pry right now. She trusts Louis will come to her when he's ready. For now, this peaceful bubble with Zayn feels like the calm eye of the storm.

Next to them, Niall and Michael sit back, completely relaxed, having demolished two large buckets of popcorn each and now tearing through a box of nachos. They laugh freely at the movie's cheesy jokes, trading exaggerated impressions and making each other crack up. Their carefree energy stands out in contrast to the tension lingering a row behind them.

Because in the row just behind, Luke's jaw clenches tightly, eyes flickering toward Calum more than once. He's furious, not just because of how Calum was teasing Louis with that touch, but because Calum's actions have stirred something more complicated. Luke hates feeling this way, but he can't deny the sting of jealousy and the frustration boiling inside him.

He hates the way Calum just doesn't give a damn. Not about Harry. Not about him.

He's mad at Calum for making Harry snap like that. Even though Luke doesn't particularly like Harry, he can feel the weight of Harry's anger and hurt in a way that hits close to home. There's a quiet, low-key bond between them that neither talks about. They both carry their own version of that aching feeling — the feeling of wanting something they can't quite reach.

Calum catches Luke's eyes, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Maybe regret. Maybe satisfaction. Maybe a little of both.

Luke's fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, knuckles whitening as he fights the urge to snap. He wants to say something, to make Calum see it, to fix the mess that's been made. But the words catch in his throat. So instead, he just stares straight ahead, his eyes heavy with a mix of jealousy and something almost like sympathy.

"Finally." Niall exclaims as the screen announces the short break, "Need more snacks."

Stella rolls her eyes, "Yeah sure you do. If you're going anyway please take a bag of sweets for me. And Zayn," She pauses, looking over at him for a second, "Wants a coke."

Zayn grins, "Yeah right, take two, Niall. She keeps drinking mine."

Niall and Michael leave their seats in an instant to get the snacks.

Calum stands up and looks over at Luke, extending his hand. "You want to get some more snacks as well?"

Luke, for a second, debates to shake his head and just stay there, but he wants a little bit of air as well so he grabs his hand and let him be pulled up from his seat. "Yeah."

Luke can feel the tension twisting in his stomach as they step out of the theater into the dim-lit hallway. The buzz of muffled conversations and the smell of popcorn greets them, but neither speaks. Calum's usual confident smirk is softer now, less cocky, almost hesitant.

Luke's mind races—part anger, part confusion. Why does Calum always get under his skin like this? And why does he feel this strange pull toward Harry's pain, even though he's never really liked him?

Calum breaks the silence first, voice low as if he doesn't want anyone to hear how unsure his voice is. "Look, I didn't mean to screw things up with Harry... not like that." He glances sideways at Luke, searching his face for some kind of reaction.

Luke shrugs, folding his arms. "You don't really care, do you? You just want to mess with him — and me."

Calum chuckles, but there's no real amusement in it. "Maybe a little. But it's not just that. You know me better than anyone honestly, I don't do shit half-measured. I guess I just wanted to see what you'd do."

Luke's eyes narrow. "What I'd do? You're really pushing it."

Calum sighs, his usual bravado fading. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for Harry to freak out like that. But... I wanted to wind you up too. Just didn't expect it'd be this messy."

Luke looks away, the frustration weighing heavy in his chest. "Yeah, well... you've made it worse. For everyone."

"You really didn't have to do that you know, the way you were all over Louis, and that in front of Harry?" He scoffs, "That's really low Cal."

"Does he own Louis? If Louis didn't like it he could've pushed me away." Calum says, tone flat, as if he wants to defend himself but knows there's not really anything to defend anymore.

"That's not the fucking point." Luke bites out.

"Then what is? I can't touch anyone?"

Luke rolls his eyes, "That's not what I'm saying and you know it. I find it a bit harsh to act like that with someone you know your best friend Harry likes."

Calum sighs, "You're right, it was fucking selfish of me. Just-"

They reach the snack stand before he can continue, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as the cashier rings up their snacks. Calum picks up two soda's and a bag of candy, glancing back at Luke with something almost like regret.

Luke watches him, conflicted. Underneath the games and the teasing, maybe Calum's not completely heartless. Maybe this was more complicated than it seemed.

"Let's just get back," Luke finally says, voice softer.

Calum nods, shoulders a little slumped as they head back toward the theater, the silence between them carrying more weight than any words could.

Just in front of the door Louis and Harry appear as well, seemingly okay but Luke can't really read their body language now. He hopes Calum didn't mess them up.

Back inside, the theater is hushed once more, the screen flickering to life as the film resumes. But the tension hasn't gone anywhere, it just sinks deeper, like something waiting to explode beneath the surface.

Luke slides into his seat, stealing a glance at Calum beside him. Calum doesn't look back.

Next to them, Louis and Harry settle in too. They're quiet. Too quiet.

Luke watches them for just a second longer than he should, the bitter taste of guilt curling in his mouth. He can feel Calum's presence beside him like static in the air.

No one says a word.

On screen, the characters laugh. But in the dark, no one else does.

Chapter 28: Chapter 28

And after what felt like an eternity, the credits roll. The screen fades to black. Everyone sits a second too long, as if no one wants to break the fragile silence.

Louis shifts first. He stretches slowly, trying to mask the weight still weight on his chest. He can feel Harry beside him, he's close, but not close enough. They haven't spoken again since the hallway. And what is there to talk about

Outside, the night is cool, the parking lot glowing under yellow lanterns. The group spills out, bundled up, quiet now in a way that feels cautious. Like everyone's afraid the wrong word might set everything off again.

Harry shoves his hands deep into his jacket pockets and stares at the sky. Louis walks next to him but doesn't touch him. He doesn't even let their sleeves brush.

Zayn and Stella trail just behind them, their murmured conversation fading in and out like background noise. Niall and Michael are up ahead, arguing over what snack they should've gotten instead, their laughter not quite loud enough to cut through the tension.

Calum and Luke walk at the very back.

It's Zayn who finally breaks the silence, in his usual low, cool tone. "So. That was... a night."

Stella hums. "We should've just gone bowling like I said."

Louis huffs a soft laugh, barely. "Next time."

"Right," Stella says dryly. "Next time you decide to emotionally sabotage your relationship mid-movie, at least let us bowl while it happens."

Louis winces. "Fair."

Well, she's not afraid to put him on the spot, is she.

Harry says nothing. Just keeps walking, eyes on the ground.

Stella gently nudges his shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

He gives her a tired smile. "Not really."

"Want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet."

She nods. "Okay. But when you're ready—"

"I know."

They reach the cars. No one really knows what to do next.

Calum breaks away from Luke, raking a hand through his hair, suddenly sporting a sheepish look on his face. "I think I'm gonna walk home. It's not far."

Luke frowns. "Seriously?"

Calum shrugs, like he's not bothered. "Clear my head or whatever. You guys don't need me right now."

He starts to turn, but Louis calls out, making him pause. "You sure Cal?"

Louis feels Harry freeze beside him.

Calum doesn't answer. Just nods once, then fully turns and disappears down the sidewalk, fading into the shadows. Shoulders sagged down.

Louis watches him for a bit, feeling so very empty after all what happened tonight. He hesitates but then nudges Luke, who's clearly debating whether or not to go after Calum. "Luke?"

Luke peels his eyes off of Calums retreating figure. "Yeah?"

"Go." Louis nods, "If you need me to pick you up after, just call."

Luke blinks, then finally starts moving.

Zayn claps his hands once. "Well. I'm taking Stella home before she convinces me to adopt emotional support turtles or some shit for y'all."

She snorts. "Tempting."

The group starts peeling off — Zayn and Stella to his car, Niall and Michael to their own, Louis lingers a little. Watching Luke walk after Calum.

Louis then turns to Harry, finally. "You want to ride with me?"

Harry thinks about it. The pause is long enough to say maybe not. But eventually, he nods.

"Okay."

The car is quiet. Too quiet.

Louis keeps his hands at ten and two, gripping the steering wheel like it might keep the whole night from unraveling any further. Every bump in the road, every turn of the tires, echoes in the silence between them. The kind of silence that isn't neutral, it's fucking heavy. Pulsing with everything they're not saying.

Harry sits in the passenger seat, angled slightly away, staring out the window as streetlights flicker across his face. His reflection in the glass is ghostly—pale, distant, unreachable.

Louis wants to say something. Needs to. But the words get tangled in his throat, bitter and too late.

At a red light, Louis glances over. Harry doesn't move. Doesn't flinch. Just keeps looking out the window like if he stares hard enough, maybe he'll be anywhere but here.

The silence feels like a punishment.

And Louis deserves it.

When they pull into the drive, the headlights sweep across the front of the flat. Louis cuts the engine, but neither of them moves right away.

"Are you coming?" Louis asks, his voice soft, a little raw.

Harry doesn't answer. Just opens the door and steps out into the night.

Inside the flat, Harry moves like he always does. He drops his keys in the bowl, shrugs off his coat, heads toward the kitchen. Like it's any other night.

But nothing about this night is ordinary.

Louis follows him in, slower. Each step feels unsure. When he finally reaches the kitchen, Harry is already at the sink, pouring a glass of water. His movements are precise. Measured.

Distant.

Louis stays by the door. Doesn't come in yet. Like he doesn't have the right.

"I want to talk," He says finally, breaking the silence.

Harry doesn't turn. He sets the glass down with a soft clink and leans his hands on the edge of the counter.

"What's the point?" Harry asks quietly, like he's already heard every version of the apology Louis might offer.

"Because I need you to hear me."

"I did," Harry says, his voice cold. "Loud and clear."

Louis steps in a little closer, voice pleading now. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Finally, Harry turns to face him. His expression is tired, not angry, but worn down, like someone who's been carrying too much for too long. "Then say what you meant. Right now. Because I don't have much more left in me for this."

"I messed up." Louis swallows, voice thick. "I knew what I was doing, and I didn't stop it. And I don't know why. I wanted your attention. Maybe I wanted to see if you'd react. And that's- I know how messed up that is."

"So you did hurt me on purpose."

"No," Louis says, quickly. "Not to hurt you."

"But you knew it would."

That silence between them again, this time its even heavier.

Because yeah, Louis knew it'd bother Harry. That it'd hurt him.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Louis says, quieter now. "You're the one person I never want to hurt. Ever."

Harry exhales, shaking his head. "But you still did. And I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending that doesn't mean something."

Louis sits on the arm of the couch, shoulders hunched. "What do I say that makes this better?"

"Maybe nothing," Harry replies. "Maybe I don't want words right now. I want change."

"I'll change."

Harry laughs, but there's no joy in it. Only disbelief.

"This—whatever this is—it's not invincible, Lou. It breaks. It is already breaking."

Louis nods, fast, overwhelmed. "I don't want to lose you."

"Then stop making it so easy for me to leave."

Louis rubs at his eyes, voice cracking. "I know I have issues, and that I'm not so easy to love."

He internallt winces, everything he is saying is coming out wrong. This is not about him right now.

"That's not it." Harry's voice softens, but not kindly. "You're not hard to love. It's just that-"

Harry pauses. Lets his eyes drop to the floor for a moment, then back to Louis's face, notices the way his eyes are rimmed red, guilt spilling out of them.

It would be easier to yell. To walk away. But what's sitting in Harry's chest isn't rage. It's something deeper. Something heavier.

"You're not hard to love, Louis." He repeats, his voice soft. Honest. "You're hard to rely on."

Louis blinks. His breath catches, just slightly, like Harry cracked something in him that had been barely holding together.

That one lands in Louis's gut.

Wow.

Like a shovel just decided to park in his stomach.

"You make it so fucking hard to believe that I can lean on you," Harry continues, voice steady, but his hands are fists at his sides. "Like I can count on you to not hurt me just because you're scared of being hurt first."

Louis swallows hard. "I—"

Harry cuts in, not unkindly, but firm. "You play games, Lou. You flirt when you're insecure. You let people get too close when you think I might pull away. You test me to see if I'll stay, and the second I do, you do something to push me again. And I'm so, so fucking exhausted."

Louis wants to explain, wants to tell him it's not like that, not really, but he can't, because it is like that.

Because Harry's not wrong.

Harry exhales shakily. "I don't need perfect. I just need... solid. I need someone who won't fucking disappear the second it gets uncomfortable. Someone who doesn't make me feel like I have to earn their attention all the time. Because I promised myself I'll never do that again."

He runs a hand through his curls, voice cracking. "I love y- I love being around you, Louis. That's the worst part. It's not even hard. Loving that is the easiest thing I've ever done."

He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "But I need to be able to rely on you. And right now? I can't."

Louis steps forward, not closing the space, but trying to stay steady. "Then let me change that. Let me try. Even if it takes time."

Harry looks at him, and for a second there's something so raw in his eyes, not anger, not even disappointment. Just tired hope. Like he wants to believe him.

"Don't promise me that if you're not ready to mean it." Harry's eyes are glossy, his brows tightly knit. As if he's unconsciously shielding himself.

"I'm ready," Louis says. "I want to be someone you can count on, Harry. I want that more than fucking anything."

Silence hums between them. The space around them is still. The air feels fragile.

And then, finally, Harry nods, just once, and turns toward his bed room door.

"Let's see if you mean it."

Chapter 29: Chapter 28.2- bonus

The street is quiet, the air cool and still.

Calum's footsteps echo sharply as he walks ahead, shoulders hunched, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. He doesn't slow down when he hears Luke calling after him.

"Cal—Calum, wait up."

No answer. Just the rhythm of boots on pavement.

Luke jogs to catch up, breath quick in the cold. "What the hell was that back there?"

Luke catches up with him halfway down the block, breath sharp, footsteps uneven. Calum doesn't stop, doesn't even glance back.

"You're seriously just walking away?" Luke snaps, trying to catch his breath.

Calum's shoulders tense, he hesitates for a second but then he keeps going. "You already said what you wanted to say."

"Yeah, and apparently you didn't listen."

"I did," Calum shoots back, finally turning to face him. His voice is tight, eyes dark. "You made it pretty clear how pissed you are. Mission accomplished."

Luke stops short. The cold air whips between them, but it's not what makes him shiver.

"You knew what you were doing. With Louis."

"And you knew what we were," Calum says, low and sharp. "Past tense, right?"

Luke's breath catches. That word stings more than he wants to admit.

Calum scoffs, turning again. "Why does it even matter, Luke? You've been pretending I don't exist for weeks. But the second someone else looks at me, suddenly you care?"

Luke steps forward, voice rough. "It's not about someone else looking at you. It's about you needing it. Right in front of me."

"What, you want me to sit there and pine while you act like I never happened?" Calum snaps. "I'm right next to you, Luke, and you can't even look at me."

"Because it fucking hurts!" Luke's voice cracks, louder than he means. "You think watching you flirt with Louis is fun for me? You think it's easy feeling like you've moved on and I'm just—still stuck in it?"

Calum's mouth parts slightly. That hesitation. That softness that almost creeps in.

"I'm not over you," Luke admits, quieter now, but still shaking with it. "But I thought you were. So yeah, maybe I keep my distance. Maybe I don't want to fall into something that isn't real anymore."

Calum looks away, jaw tight. "You always do that. You decide how I feel for me. You don't ask, you just assume it's already over."

Luke's throat is dry. "So it's not?"

Calum looks at him then. Really looks. "I'm trying to forget you. Because you make it feel like I have to."

The wind carries silence between them. Luke's fingers curl at his sides, unsure what to reach for, anger, an apology, or Calum.

"I don't know how to be near you," Luke says finally. "Not without wanting more."

"And now?" Calum asks.

Luke holds his gaze. "Now I don't want to pretend anymore."

Calum exhales slowly, chest rising and falling with something that looks like relief and fear at the same time. He starts walking again, but slower this time. Not away.

Luke follows.

Neither of them says anything else until Calum pushes open the door to his building and holds it just long enough for Luke to slip in behind him.

The door clicks shut behind them, but it sounds like a scream in the quiet—fragile and loud all at once. Luke lingers near the entrance, slow, hesitant, like stepping in might break everything. Calum moves ahead, tossing his keys on the counter without a glance back.

The air inside is warm, almost suffocating, heavy with all the things neither of them can say.

Luke stays by the door, arms crossed, eyes tracing Calum as he shrugs off his jacket and kicks off his shoes like it's just another night. Like the words they yelled in the street never tore them apart.

"You want something to drink?" Calum asks, voice low, not quite meeting Luke's eyes.

"Water's fine," Luke replies, voice rough.

Calum moves wordlessly to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses. He pours slowly, then slides one toward Luke. Their fingers brush, a spark, but neither pulls away.

Luke grabs the glass, hesitantly taking a sip. He notices the apartment looks the same like it always did. Some dishes still left in the sink, probably from this morning.

"It's too late to go home," Calum says, voice barely more than a breath. "You can stay here if you want."

Luke raises an eyebrow, voice cracking on the edge of hope and doubt. "Is that a peace offering... or a trap?"

Calum lets a ghost of a smirk touch his lips, but his eyes are soft, vulnerable. "You tell me."

Luke steps closer, the space shrinking until it feels like they're the only two people in the world. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Calum meets his gaze, eyes raw. "No, Luke. I don't. Tell me."

"I'm jealous," Luke admits, frustration lacing his voice, each word spilling out like it hurts to hold them back. "I hated seeing you with Louis. Fucking hate feeling like I had no right to be angry about it."

Calum's voice softens, but the ache doesn't fade. "Why wouldn't you have the right?"

"Because you act like none of it ever mattered," Luke says, quieter, voice breaking. "Like we were nothing."

Silence stretched between them for a bit, tense and heavy.

Luke finally speaks again. "You look like you wanted him to touch you."

Calum flinches, barely, but doesn't look away. "That what you see?"

Luke downs the rest of the glass in one swallow. "It's what you want me to see."

Calum stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head, jaw clenching. "You think I want him? Fuck, Luke. I wanted you to notice. And you do— you did, but only when it's too late. Hell, I didn't want to fuck up Harry and Louis' thing or whatever they have going on. But you didn't do shit. I've been driving myself crazy."

"I noticed," Luke says, his voice rough like gravel now. "I noticed everything. I just didn't think I have the right to say something."

Calum's eyes flick up, dangerous and soft all at once. "You think I'd just touch anyone like that?"

Luke's breath catches. There's a pause thick enough to fall into.

"You touched me," he says, quiet, pointed. "You touched me like that."

Calum doesn't move. But something shifts in his expression, like Luke hits a nerve, peels back something raw and still bleeding.

The space between them feels hot.

Dense.

Luke leans against the counter, hands gripping the edge like it might ground him. Calum stands across from him, arms crossed tight over his chest like he's holding himself in.

They both look like they want to move. Neither does.

"I don't know what you want from me," Calum says finally, his voice quieter now. "One second you look at me like I'm the only thing that matters, and the next you walk away. Because don't you forget that you fucking left me Luke."

"Maybe I don't think I can have you," Luke admits.

Their eyes lock.

"You could," Calum says, barely above a whisper. "You still could."

Luke steps forward. Just one step—but it's enough to shift the air between them, thick with heat and history.

"Then tell me to stay."

Calum's jaw tenses. His chest rises and falls with shallow breath. He doesn't say anything.

Luke takes another step. Close now. Almost too close.

"Tell me," he says again, voice low, almost pleading, needy.

Calum's hand twitches at his side. "It's late," he says. "You should stay."

Luke doesn't move for a moment. Then he reaches past Calum, slowly, deliberately, to set his empty glass on the counter—his chest brushing Calum's as he leans in. Not an accident.

Calum stays completely still, like he can't trust himself to react.

Luke's voice is a whisper against his skin. "You sure about that?"

Calum turns his head just slightly. His eyes catching Luke's at the edge of his vision. "No."

And somehow, that feels more honest than anything else tonight.

They stand there, too close, hearts loud in the silence. Not touching. Not yet.

Calum's breath hitches, voice breaking as he whispers, "I thought I couldn't have you anymore." He swallows hard, hands clenched at his sides, his eyes searching for Luke's. Desperate, pleading. "I wanted you. Fuck it, I still want you."

Calum's whole body trembles as he finally steps forward, closing the last inch between them.

They stand pressed close, breaths mingling, hearts pounding in the fragile silence, both terrified and aching to break the barrier between them.

One more breath. One more touch.

And everything could fall apart—or finally come together.

They stand like that for a long moment, close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other, close enough that if one breathes too deep, they'll touch.

Calum's eyes drop to Luke's mouth for a fraction of a second before flicking away again, jaw tight. He steps back first, slow and deliberate, picking up both glasses and walking them to the sink.

"You can take the bed," He says over his shoulder. Nonchalant, too nonchalant. "If you want."

Luke watches him, the way his shoulders tense a bit when he added the last part, the way he doesn't look at Luke when he talks.. "Where are you sleeping?"

Calum rinses the glasses, avoiding the question. "Does it matter?"

Luke doesn't answer right away. He doesn't move either. The energy between them doesn't dull, it just changes shape. Less like fire, more like tension pulling taut beneath the surface.

"It does," Luke finally says, quieter now. "To me."

Calum shuts off the water and leans forward against the counter, his back still to Luke. "You don't get to act like this matters when you only show up after the damage is done."

Luke steps toward him, just one slow step. "I'm here now."

Calum turns his head slightly. "Yeah, and for how long this time?"

There's no malice in his voice—just tiredness. Like the sharp edges of their earlier fight have dulled into something deeper, heavier. The kind of ache that doesn't yell anymore. It just stays.

"I don't know," Luke admits. "I don't know what this is. I just know it still hurts."

Calum finally turns to face him. His arms cross again, more defensive now than angry. "It hurts because it mattered."

"Still does," Luke says without flinching.

They stare at each other in the low light. Neither moves. Neither looks away.

Calum's voice drops, like anything louder might break something fragile. "If you're staying, stay. But don't crawl into my bed if you're gonna pretend it meant nothing in the morning."

Luke steps closer, heartbeat a slow pound in his chest. He's inches away now, and the air feels different again. Hot. Tight. Every part of him tells him to touch, to close the space, to act on what they're both not saying.

But he doesn't.

"I won't pretend," he says.

Calum nods once, slow. "Okay."

Then, without another word, he walks toward the bedroom.

Luke follows—quiet, not tentative, but not confident either. Like he knows this could break apart at any second, but he's not going to be the one to pull away first.

The bedroom is dim, only the faint city light cutting across the sheets. Calum peels off his shirt and tosses it onto a nearby chair, not looking at Luke when he does. The act isn't meant to seduce. It's stripped-down vulnerability—bare skin and bruised silence.

Luke stands at the foot of the bed, watching him. His throat feels tight.

"Really okay if I sleep in here?" he asks, voice low.

Calum looks over, something unreadable in his eyes. "Yeah."

Luke toes off his boots, slowly pulls off his hoodie. The room feels warm and quiet, their breaths the only sound.

They get under the covers at the same time, the space between them careful, deliberate. A gap wide enough to respect, narrow enough to feel.

Calum lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. Luke turns onto his side, facing him.

Neither speaks.

Minutes pass like hours. The tension doesn't go anywhere. It just curls around them, intimate and unsaid.

Then Calum's hand moves, almost imperceptibly, between them. Closer.

Not touching.

Just there.

Luke stares at it, heart pounding. He reaches out, slow, until their fingers touch—barely. A brush. A suggestion.

Calum doesn't pull away.

They stay like that, fingers barely grazing under the sheets, the space between them humming with everything left unspoken.

Still no kiss. Still no release.

Just heat, breath, and something delicate they both try to protect.

It's well past midnight.

The city outside has quieted, reduced to the occasional hum of passing cars and the flicker of streetlights casting shadows on the wall.

They lie there—on their sides now, turned toward each other, the narrow space between them slowly, steadily shrinking. Calum's fingers brush Luke's under the covers again, this time with more intention. Luke doesn't pull away.

He can't.

Neither of them speaks. Words feel too heavy. Their breathing syncs—slower, shallower—less sleep, more anticipation.

Calum's voice comes low, barely audible. "This feels like a mistake."

Luke's chest tightens. "Then why haven't you moved?"

Calum's eyes don't leave his. "Because I keep hoping it's not."

The silence that follows isn't awkward—it's electric. This time, Luke closes the distance.

The kiss is hesitant at first, both testing its weight, checking if it still holds the same heat.

It does. More, even.

Slow, soft, laced with tension—like neither has forgotten what it feels like to have this, to lose this.

Calum's hand slides up Luke's side under the blanket, tentative but steady. Luke leans in harder, deeper, like he can't get close enough. His hand finds the back of Calum's neck, fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss grows sharper, breathier, messier.

Their legs tangle under the sheets. Calum exhales hard against Luke's mouth, pulling him closer, their bodies flush at last, as if all that tension has been waiting for this.

Then—Luke whispers it.

Soft. Thoughtless. Slipped out between kisses.

"I missed you so damn bad, even when I was with her."

Calum stills.

Luke doesn't realize what he's said until Calum's mouth pulls away—just barely, just enough for the air to turn cold between them.

There's a pause. One second. Two.

"What did you say?" Calum says, voice low and tight. Threatening almost.

Luke blinks, mouth parted, regret crawling up his throat. "I didn't mean—"

"You were with someone?" Calum sits up slightly, pushing the blanket off with one hand, chest rising fast with something close to panic, betrayal maybe.

"It was nothing," Luke says quickly, sitting up too. "It didn't mean anything, I swear—"

"But you were with someone else," Calum repeats, like he needs to hear it again to believe it. "While you were ignoring me. While I was trying to figure out what I did wrong."

Luke reaches out, but Calum shifts back. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?" Calum snaps. His voice isn't loud, but it's sharp. "Was she just a placeholder? Something to fill the silence while you figured out if I was worth calling again?"

Luke looks like he's been slapped. "I didn't know what I wanted."

"Bullshit," Calum hisses, voice cracking. "You knew. You just didn't pick me."

The heat from earlier is gone now, it's been twisted into something colder, messier. Their closeness feels like a trap instead of comfort.

Luke's voice breaks, soft. "I still came back."

Calum stares at him, eyes burning. Not angry now, just hurt. "Yeah. But only after you lost something else first."

He pushes off the bed and stands, pulling his shirt back on in one rough motion. "You should sleep here. I'll take the couch."

Luke swallows hard, still sitting tangled in the sheets. "Cal... please."

But Calum's already halfway out the door.

He pauses in the doorway, jaw tight, hands clenched.

"I don't want to be your second choice," he says quietly. "Not again."

Then he's gone, and the room feels too still, too cold, far too quiet.

-

The morning light spills in too gently for how sharp the air between them feels.

Luke steps out of the bedroom, hoodie half-zipped, hair a mess. He pauses when he sees Calum in the kitchen, back to him, mug held in both hands like it's anchoring him.

"Hey," Luke says quietly, voice hoarse from sleep and too much left unsaid.

Calum doesn't turn around. "Coffee's on the counter."

Luke crosses the room slowly, barefoot, cautious. "About last night—"

"I remember it," Calum says, flat.

Luke exhales, jaw clenched. "What I said. I didn't mean it like that. About... her."

Calum finally turns, leaning back against the counter. He looks like hell—eyes dark, shoulders rigid, mouth tight like he's been grinding his teeth all night.

Luke meets his gaze. "It wasn't serious. It wasn't—fuck, Cal. It was a rebound."

Calum laughs under his breath. "You say that like it makes it better."

"I'm trying to be honest."

"Are you?" Calum asks, voice sharper now. "Because that felt pretty dishonest when your mouth was on mine like that and I didn't know you'd been in someone else's bed a few weeks ago."

Luke winces. "It wasn't like that. It didn't mean anything."

"It meant something to me," Calum snaps. "That kiss, last night, it meant something to me."

"It meant something to me too," Luke insists, stepping closer. "That's why I said it. That's why I messed up—I wasn't thinking."

"You weren't thinking," Calum echoes. "Right. But you were thinking when you slept with her."

Luke's mouth opens but no words come out.

Calum's voice dips, bitter and quiet. "You just didn't think I'd find out."

"That's not fair."

"No," Calum says, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. "It's not."

Luke's breath catches. "I was fucked up, alright? You were gone. I didn't know how to reach you without wrecking us more."

"So you slept with someone else to forget me?" Calum says, voice breaking around the edges. "Did it work?"

Luke closes his eyes for a second, like he can't take the question. "No."

"Then congratulations," Calum says coldly, turning back to the counter. "You wrecked us anyway."

Silence presses in around them.

"I didn't want her," Luke says, voice low. "I wanted you. I just didn't know how to sit in the wanting."

Calum doesn't move. Doesn't say anything for a long time.

Then finally. "You don't get to want me on the nights you're lonely and forget me the mornings after."

Luke steps forward, eyes glassy, voice quieter. "I never forgot you."

Calum turns, finally facing him again, something vulnerable—almost pleading—underneath all the fury.

"Then why did you only come back after her?"

Luke looks at him. Really looks. "Because I can't lie to myself anymore. I want you even when I'm with her. That's what I hate. That's what I can't stop."

Calum's chest rises and falls unevenly, the anger flickering, still alive, but tangled now in something else. Something deeper.

Want. Confusion. Hurt.

"You don't get to say that and expect it to fix anything."

"I'm not trying to fix it," Luke says. "I'm trying to own it."

Calum stares at him for a long time, searching, unsure if he wants to shove him away or pull him closer just to feel something real again.

But he doesn't do either.

He steps back, arms crossed now, one hand gripping his own elbow like it might hold him together. Luke sits at the edge of the table, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor.

They don't speak, but the room buzzes with everything left unsaid, sharp and sparking in the air.

Luke finally breaks the silence. "You didn't have to kiss me back."

Calum turns slowly, expression unreadable. "You think that's the part I regret?"

Luke blinks.

Calum steps closer—not too close, just close enough for it to hurt more. "The worst part isn't the kiss. It's that for a second, I let myself believe it meant something again."

"It did," Luke says, standing now. "It still does."

Calum's jaw twitches. "No. Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That thing where you give me just enough to keep me close," Calum says, voice rising slightly. "Just enough to make me feel wanted, but not enough to make me feel safe."

Luke swallows hard. "I'm not trying to play games."

"But you are, Luke. Even if you don't mean to," Calum snaps. "You came back, stirred everything up, kissed me, told me there was someone else—and now what? You want a clean slate?"

"No," Luke says, stepping in without thinking. "I want to figure it out. I want to stop pretending like I don't want you."

"You do want me," Calum says, and suddenly the room feels hotter, the air tighter. "But you didn't choose me. You chose someone easier. Someone you could leave."

Luke's voice cracks. "I didn't love her."

Calum stares at him, eyes wide in unbelief. "And you think that makes this better?"

Luke hesitates. "I think it means I still—"

"Don't," Calum interrupts, voice low, dangerous. "Don't say you love me now."

Luke falters. His breath shakes. "You don't want to know?"

"I want a lot of things," Calum says, stepping in close, so close Luke can feel his breath. "But I'm not going to beg for them anymore."

Luke's fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach out but doesn't trust himself.

The space between them burns.

Luke whispers, "Then why are you still standing this close?"

Calum stares at him, quiet, aching, unreadable.

"Because I'm still so fucking dumb enough to want you," He finally says.

They're a breath apart. Still not touching.

Still waiting for someone to flinch first.

Neither does.

Calum's words hang between them like smoke.

Luke doesn't answer.

He can't.

He just looks at him—jaw tight, eyes burning with everything he hasn't been able to say the night before, or the months before that. And Calum looks back, like he's waiting for Luke to lie again. Or leave.

But Luke doesn't move away.

He steps in.

And when he kisses Calum this time, it's not soft.

It's all teeth and breath and heat—like they're trying to erase the night before, or maybe burn right through it. Calum kisses him back just as hard, fingers twisting in Luke's shirt, dragging him in like he hates how much he needs it.

Luke groans against his mouth, hands slipping under Calum's jaw, tilting his face up like he has to feel every inch of him to believe this is real again.

It's desperate. Unsteady. A kiss with no promises, only punishment and craving.

Calum breaks it first, breathing hard. His hands stay fisted in Luke's shirt, but he pulls back just enough to speak.

"This doesn't mean it's fixed."

Luke's forehead presses to Calum's, eyes squeezed shut. "I know."

"You still fucked someone else."

"I know," Luke says again, broken now, like it's the only word he has left. "And I hate that it happened. I hate that I hurt you."

Calum doesn't speak. Doesn't let go.

Their breaths mingle in the tiny space between them, both of them too close, too far gone.

Luke whispers, "But I'd rather fight like this with you than feel nothing with anyone else."

Calum's grip loosens just a little.

But he doesn't step away.

Doesn't say no, either.

Instead, he kisses him again, slower this time. Still raw. Still dangerous. But quieter.

Like maybe he wants to believe it means something again, even if he can't say it out loud.

Not yet.

Chapter 30: Chapter 29

A while later, when everything has turned silent outside, Louis is still sitting on the couch in the living room.

He's been dwelling in his thoughts for hours now, trying to find comfort in his current discomfort. Accompanied by the fruity, flying colors of an upcoming migraine.

The creaking sound of Harry's door wakes him up from his thoughts.

Harry pauses in the doorway, his curls messily hanging around his face, like he's been turning in his bed for hours. "Sorry. Didn't think you'd still be awake."

Louis shrugs, "Couldn't sleep." He didn't have to try. He never sleeps.

There falls a silence between them, but this one doesn't have a sharp edge. Only tiredness.

Harry moves to sit down on the opposite edge of the couch. He sits down carefully, making sure to leave space between them. A book placed in his hand, as if he planned on reading it here. "Me neither."

Louis doesn't really look at him at first. He just stares down at his fingers and picks invisible threads off of his sleeves. "I've just been thinking."

Harry waits, listens. Doesn't move.

Louis  swallows hard. "Can I tell you something?" His voice is tentative,  like  he might pull the words back if Harry blinks too long. What if he'll say too much? The migraine flickers behind his eyes—a prickling warning to keep things buried.

Harry looks up immediately. "Yeah. Of course."

"I really do fuck things up," Louis says, softly. Pressing his hands into his eyes to relieve some of the pressure on his brain. "And I finally figured out part of why."

Harry nods, his posture is uneasy, not sure. "Okay."

Louis sits still for a moment, eyes closed, willing the ache in his neck to dull. The tension pulses behind his skull, sharp and unyielding—like a warning signal he's learned to ignore but never quite silence. Maybe if he breathes slow enough, it'll ease, he thinks, but the pain lingers.

"You have a headache again?" Harry asks.

"Yeah." Louis shifts, eyes on the blanket. "But I need to talk. Cause I've been thinking about what you said. About not being able to rely on me."

Harry nods slowly, cautious.

"You  were right. You are. I hate that, but yeah." Louis draws in a  breath, then exhales like it hurts. And it lowkey does, every breath he takes it sends a sharp pain into his neck. "But I think I need to explain why I   am the way I am. Not as an excuse. Just context, I guess."

Harry's face softens, and he sets the book aside, giving Louis his full attention. "Okay."

Louis   doesn't look at him yet. "I grew up in a house where... if you needed   something, you were a burden. If you showed weakness, you were ignored.   If you cried, someone told you to stop being dramatic. So I stopped. I  learned how to joke through everything. How to make myself useful or   small enough to be kept around."

He glances up, then away again.  "That shit doesn't just leave. It  gets into your bones. So now, when I  start to feel too seen, too  vulnerable, my brain screams danger. And I  do something stupid. Push.  Pull. Hurt before I get hurt."

Harry's quiet. Not interrupting. Just listening.

The only thing audible to Louis is his own heartbeat, beating against the walls in his head.

"And  then," Louis continues, quieter now, "when you left that time... when   you disappeared? That fucked me up more   than I admitted."

Harry's whole body goes still.

Louis blows out a breath that trembles with the weight of years spent hiding. He looks up to the ceiling, searching for a place to hide the fear clawing at his chest, before finally meeting Harry's eyes. "And that makes me scared."

Harry looks back, his eyes full of silent questions.

"I'm not just scared you'll leave. I'm scared of when you will. Because, you did, before."

The air between them changes slightly. Harry doesn't necessarily flinch but he blinks like it stings.

"I know you had  your reasons," Louis adds quickly. "I'm not trying to throw it in your face, I swear. But it left this... crack in  me. This place that whispers, 'See? Even the person who knows you best  can vanish like that. No warning. Just gone.'"

Harry's posture seems like it's gotten smaller when Louis spoke those words. His voice soft, too quiet. "I didn't mean to hurt you when I left. Back then. I was being stupid."

"I know," Louis says. And he means it. But that doesn't change the fact that he's been a wreck because of it. "You just left, Harry. You didn't let me know anything, hell, I even questioned if you were still alive. I thought that I'd done something wrong. That I wasn't enough for you to stay."

Harry closes his eyes, the guilt twisting through him visible even in the barely lit room.

"And you know, I get it now." Louis continues, "You were trying to protect yourself. From whatever you were feeling. But when you left me just like that, it broke something in me. And I didn't know it at the time, but it made me stop trusting that love wasn't temporary. That you wouldn't leave me the second it got too hard."

"I  think ever since then, I've been waiting for the next time you'd  leave," Louis says. "Like it was inevitable. And if I was gonna get  hurt, I wanted to make sure I saw it coming this time. Even if that  meant speeding it up."

Harry shifts closer, cautiously. "Louis.." He whispers.

"So yeah." Louis puts his hand up, to signal Harry to let him finish. He finally looks Harry in the eye. His voice  trembles, but it's honest. "So yeah. I sabotage. I flirt when I'm  scared. I poke when I feel too close. Not 'cause I want to lose you, but  because I'm fucking terrified I already have and I just haven't caught up yet."

The room is still. Rain starts ticking on the glass like a heartbeat. Together with his head pounding. Almost ironic.

The soft, distinct smell of Harry's cologne surrounds his thoughts. Wraps around him like a blanket.

Harry blinks, slowly. His voice is soft, but steady. "I didn't know you still carried that so heavily."

Louis  shrugs helplessly. "I carry all of it. Every time I wasn't enough.  Every time someone left without explaining why. And when you did  that—when you disappeared—I told myself I deserved it. That I was too  much. Or not enough. Or both."

"I never left because of you," Harry  says immediately, fiercely. "I was breaking apart. I didn't know how to  let you in without breaking you too."

"I know that now," Louis says. "But at the time? All I saw was the door closing."

Harry stands slowly, crosses the space, and sits beside him on the couch. Not touching yet. Just there.

"I wish I'd stayed," he murmurs. "Or at least had the guts to say goodbye properly."

"I don't want a goodbye," Louis says, voice cracking. "I want to stop being afraid of you leaving."

Harry  reaches out, finally, fingers brushing Louis's knee gently. "Then let's  make this something neither of us runs from anymore. But it has to be  both of us, Lou. I need you to believe I'm here. And I need to believe  you want to stay.."

He pauses for a second, "And I need to be able to rely on you. That you will not use my issues against me anymore."

Louis nods, eyes glassy. Vision blurred with colors. "I do want to stay. I really do. And I will work on not using it against you."

They  sit in the quiet together. The weight hasn't lifted entirely, but it's  lighter now. The truth is between them, raw and bruised and real.

And for the first time in a long time, it stays.

Louis shifts uncomfortably on the couch, the silence stretching out between them like thick fog.

Neither of them seems ready to break it.

Until Harry clears his throat, glancing at the clock on the wall. "You're not going to get any sleep here, you know."

Louis shrugs, but his eyes are tired, unfocused. "No, I'm not."

Harry stands slowly and walks to the bedroom door. He pauses, then calls out over his shoulder, "You want to... try the bed? It's bigger. Maybe we'll both sleep better."

Louis blinks, surprised by the offer, then nods. "Yeah. Maybe."

They move carefully, like two strangers learning how to share space again. Louis sits on the edge of the bed, waiting. Harry sits beside him, leaving a small gap between them.

Neither reaches out. The air buzzes with all the things unsaid.

Louis looks down at his hands. "I'm so fucking sorry, for earlier."

Harry exhales quietly. "Me too."

A beat passes. Then Harry shifts, moving a little closer—just a fraction.

Louis doesn't pull away.

They lie down, side by side, facing the ceiling, shoulders almost touching. The awkwardness hums beneath their skin, but it's softer now—less like a wall and more like a bridge.

Louis turns his head slightly towards Harry. "Thanks for not giving up."

Harry's smile is small, hesitant. "Never."

The room settles around them. Rain taps softly against the window.

They don't fall asleep right away, but neither feels alone.

And that's something.

Louis breathes out, the tension in his chest loosening just a little. "I didn't think we'd get here tonight," he admits quietly, eyes still on the ceiling. "Feels like we're both carrying so much... I keep wondering if we can really hold it together."

Harry turns his head slightly to look at him. "We will," he says softly, voice steady but gentle. "Not cause it's easy. Because it's worth it."

Louis lets out a breathy laugh, but stops immediately when he feels the pain flame up his neck again. "Yeah, easy definitely isn't our thing."

A quiet moment passes, and then Harry's hand moves almost on its own. Slowly reaching out to rest on Louis's forearm. Not pressing, just resting there.

Louis's breath catches, but he doesn't pull away.

"Is this okay?" Harry's voice is low, a little vulnerable.

Louis nods, still looking at the ceiling. "Yeah. It's good."

Harry's fingers start tracing small, lazy circles on Louis's skin, a careful rhythm that feels like an apology and a promise all at once.

Every slow circle Harry traced was both balm to his soul and a fresh reminder of the tight coil of pain beneath his skin

Louis closes his eyes briefly, letting himself feel it—the warmth, the care, the simple closeness. Tries to forget about his headache for a bit.

"When you push me away, like tonight, I get scared," Harry whispers. "But when you let me in like this... I feel like maybe we can heal. Together."

Louis turns his head, finally meeting Harry's gaze in the dim light. "I want that too," he says, voice trembling but sure. "I'm scared, but I don't want to be alone anymore."

Harry's hand slides a little higher, fingers brushing the soft skin just above Louis's wrist. His touch is featherlight, hesitant, like he's afraid to break the fragile moment.

Louis shifts closer, the space between them shrinking, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like maybe the cracks aren't so permanent after all.

Harry's voice breaks the silence, soft and careful. "Your head—how's the headache now?"

Louis blinks, caught off guard by the gentle concern. "Still there," he admits quietly, voice rough. "But... better than before."

Without another word, Harry moves even closer, curling his body around Louis's in a careful, protective hug. Louis leans into him, the warmth seeping through the tension.

Harry's fingers find their way to Louis's hair, running slowly through the curls with a soothing rhythm that feels like a silent promise. The migraine, sharp and buzzing just moments ago, dulls beneath the steady touch.

Their breathing slows, syncing quietly as the rain outside fades into just a murmur.

Slowly, sleep claims them.

Two imperfect people, tangled together not just in body but in something deeper, fragile and fierce.

Chapter 31: Chapter 30

Louis wakes to soft sunlight coming gently through the curtains, warm and gold on the sheets.

For a second, he doesn't remember where he is, or why his chest doesn't feel quite so heavy.

Then he realizes Harry's arm is places around him.

Loose. Casual. Familiar.

And it hits him.

Not everything is fixed. But something is different. Lighter.

Louis doesn't move at first. He is just there, listening, to Harry's breathing, steady and soft against the curve of his shoulder. To the faint sound of birds outside. To the silence inside his own head, not empty but quieter than usual.

The ache in his skull lingers, but it's a dull hum now. Manageable.

Harry stirs behind him, his voice rough with sleep. "You awake?"

Louis nods, and Harry's arm tightens a little in response, pulling them the slightest bit closer. "Did you sleep?"

"Some," Louis whispers against Harry's chest. "Better than I thought I would."

A pause.

"I did too," Harry says. "I think... I needed this more than I knew."

They don't say anything for a while. They don't need to.

Eventually, Louis turns, shifting slowly to face Harry. They're close enough to have their foreheads almost touch.

Louis's voice is barely above a breath. "Last night wasn't easy."

Harry nods. "No. But I'm glad we talked."

Louis studies him. The mess of curls. The faint crease between his brows. The cuece of his lips. The way his eyes, even tired, look at Louis like he's something important.

"You meant it, right?" Louis asks. "About trying. About both of us staying."

Harry's eyes stay on Louis. "Every word."

A second passes.

Then Louis exhales, long and slow. "Okay."

It's quiet between them for the rest of the morning.

Not the kind of tense silence that wraps itself around a fight, but the kind that tiptoes in after a storm, when everything is still wet and a little raw.

Louis stands in the kitchen, stirring milk into a mug of tea with slow, deliberate circles. Across the counter, Harry leans silently, hands wrapped around his own cup like it's the only thing grounding him.

Neither of them says it out loud, but last night is still in the room with them.

Louis finally breaks the silence, voice soft. "You ever just wish life came with a fucking user manual?"

Harry lets out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. "Yeah."

Harry hasn't touched his phone since they woke up. It's still face down on the counter where he put it down last night. But when it buzzes for the hundredth time in ten minutes, Louis lets his eyes curiously flicker at it and then at Harry, but then quickly looks away.

Harry finally flips it over.

Five missed calls from Calum. One voicemail. Two texts.

He reads the most recent one out loud, voice flat:

C. Harry. Pick up that damn phone. Need to talk with you.

Louis's jaw tightens, but he doesn't speak. Instead, he sips his tea and keeps his eyes on the floor.

Harry sighs, running a hand through his curls. "He's been calling since before sunrise. First voicemail came in around six."

"What's he looking for?" Louis asks quietly.

Harry doesn't answer right away. Then: "Forgiveness. I guess. Maybe a chance to explain."

The air shifts. Heavy again.

"You think you'll give it to him?" Louis's voice is neutral, but Harry can hear the quiet strain beneath it.

Almost as if Louis is not only asking it for Calum.

Harry exhales. "I don't know. I keep replaying it in my head. That moment at the theatre. The look on your face."

Louis's fingers curl tighter around the mug. Guilt tightening the imaginary rope around his neck, as he realizes his actions from last night prepared that rope.

"He touched your leg like that on purpose," Harry says. "And I saw it. So did Luke."

Louis finally speaks, calm but cutting. "He wanted you both to see it."

Harry nods. "Yeah. I got that. Loud and fucking clear."

Another buzz. A voicemail notification lights up the screen.

Harry sighs and presses play before he can talk himself out of it.

"Harry, please fucking listen to me. I was pissed off at Luke and I wanted to prove something. Louis didn't even know what I was doing, not really. He looked so confused, and I—God, I felt sick the second I did it. I wasn't thinking about anyone but myself, and it was shitty. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just... call me back. Or don't. Just- I needed to say it."

The message ends.

Silence returns between them, heavy and awkward.

Harry's voice is quiet. "He's right about one thing. You did look confused."

"I was," Louis mutters. "One second we were just watching the movie, the next his hand was—" He stops talking, shaking his head. "I didn't get it until I saw your face. And that made me go through with it, that's the worst fucking part about it."

Harry's phone makes a noise again, screen lighting up. Calum is calling again.

But Harry ignores him.

"You're not gonna..?" Louis trails off, vaguely gesturing something with his hand.

"Not now."

"You want me to leave the room so you can talk privately?" Louis offers, a knot forming in his stomach. Calum isn't the only one to blame here.

"I said, not now." Harry bites out, then immediately after he regrets snapping at Louis. "Sorry."

Louis shrugs, "I deserve that."

He's not really sure what to do or what to say. He can imagine the betrayal Harry feels right now, but how is he going to explain that what Calum did wasn't only his own fault.

He let Calum touch him. He could've done something to stop it. To stop it for both Harry and Luke.

Louis and Luke have talked about the situationship between Calum and him a while ago, but Louis actually had forgotten a bit about it until he saw them both in the same room last night.

By not doing anything, but letting Calum touch him he's probably hurt both Harry and Luke.

Louis sets his mug down a little too hard. It clinks against the counter and he winces at the sound, but he doesn't apologize.

"I think I let it happen," he says, finally. "Not just to provoke you, but—" he pauses, swallowing, "—because I wanted to feel like I had control. Like I could still... matter. To someone."

Harry looks over at him, eyes unreadable. "You don't think you matter to me?"

Louis laughs, but it's a hollow, tired sound. "I don't always know. Not in the way I used to."

Harry's shoulders drop. "That's not fair, Lou."

"No," Louis agrees. "It's not. But neither was last night. None of it is."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated now, not at Harry, not even at Calum. Just at himself. "I knew Luke still had feelings for Calum. And I didn't shut it down. I didn't encourage it either, not directly, but I also didn't stop it when I should've. Maybe I wanted the attention. Maybe I wanted to feel wanted, for a second, by someone who wasn't always halfway out the door."

Harry blinks, the hit landing. "Is that what you think I am?"

Louis hesitates, careful now. "No. Not now. But there were nights I wasn't sure."

Harry looks down at the floor, then back up. "You didn't just hurt me. You hurt Luke too."

"I know," Louis says. And he means it. It's been eating at him. "I'll talk to him. I owe him that."

Harry nods. "Yeah, you do."

Another pause. Not icy this time, just a pause. Neutral.

Harry's voice softens. "You don't need to punish yourself forever for it, Lou."

Louis looks at him, startled. "You think I am?"

Harry gives a small, sad smile. "You haven't looked at me once since you said all that. You're holding your breath like you're waiting for me to walk out."

Louis opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again.

Because Harry's right.

"I don't know how to come back from this," Louis admits. "I want to. I just... don't know how."

Harry steps closer, carefully, like approaching a wounded animal.

"You just did," he says. "You told the truth. That's the first part."

Louis looks up at him, searching for something in Harry's face. Maybe anger, disappointment, anything final.

But it isn't there.

Just quiet sadness. And maybe — maybe — a little bit of hope.

Harry's voice is low. "You wanna keep going, Louis? Try for real?"

Louis nods, throat tight. "Yeah. I do."

"Then we'll figure it out," Harry says. "We'll talk to Luke. We'll talk with Calum. We'll fuck up sometimes, but we'll talk about it. No more letting things rot."

Louis nods again, firmer this time.

Harry reaches out, brushing his fingers gently against Louis's. His touch being a comfort to Louis.

They sit there for a bit, not really knowing what to say or do anymore. It doesn't necessarily feel awkward between them, but the air is not completely clear either.

"I'm calling Luke." Louis decides, grabbing his phone.

"I'll call Calum back." Harry nods.

Look at them being grown ups.

The line rings for a bit until Luke finally picks up, he sounds a bit out of breath. "Louis."

"Luke." Louis replies, picking at his jeans. "Can we talk?"

Before Luke can reply Louis hears a phone ringing on Luke's side. He quickly glances at Harry, who's holding his phone up to his ear now, calling Calum.

"Yeah." Luke breathes out, sounding unsure. Louis hears rustling on the other side, like Luke's quickly moved to another room.

Louis may not be the smartest but it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together here.

"Luke?" He asks, "We can talk later if you're busy."

"With what would I be busy?" Luke asks, voice innocent, a bit too innocent.

"C'mon man. You didn't text me to pick you up and I don't believe Cal drove you home after last night."

"Okay. You got me there." Luke half sighs. "What'd you want to talk about?"

See, Louis isn't that dumb. He knows what is going on.

"I wanna apologize."

"What?" He's definitely fucking with him.

"Fuck you, you heard me the first time. But if you're really that deaf, I want to fucking apologize."

Luke stills on the other side of the line, "For what?"

"For letting him touch me like that, when you- when I knew how you'd feel about it."

Luke is quiet. Too quiet.

Louis almost thinks he's hung up, until he hears a breath on the other end. It's shaky, maybe even hitched.

"Luke?"

"I'm here," Luke says finally. His voice is calm, but there's something moving beneath it. "You didn't owe me that. We weren't anything. Haven't been anything for a while."

"But you still gave a fuck," Louis says, cutting through it. "And I knew that. I could've stopped him. I should've."

Louis hears Luke shift, maybe sitting down. A pause, then:

"Did you do it to hurt me?"

Louis's mouth goes dry. He looks down at the edge of the counter where he's digging his nail into the wood grain.

"No," he says. "Not at first."

"And then?"

Louis swallows. "Then I saw Harry's face. And yeah... maybe part of me just wanted someone to look at me like I wasn't invisible. Even if it was for the wrong reasons. Even if it made everything worse."

A long silence.

Then Luke says, "You really are a fucking idiot sometimes. So fucking dense sometimes Louis."

Louis lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. "Yeah."

How much he wishes he was not, he really is.

"But I forgive you."

Louis stops breathing for a second.

Luke continues, a little softer now. "I've been holding onto so much with Calum for so long, I don't think I even noticed when it started bleeding into everything else. We're both fucked up, Lou. All four of us, probably. Doesn't mean I don't care."

Louis rubs at his chest like he can press down the guilt still caught there. "Thanks. I know it's not enough, but... thank you."

There's a creak on the other end, then a small thump like Luke's laid back on something. His voice is more casual now.

"Harry still on the phone with Cal?"

"Yeah."

"Good." A beat. "He deserves to hear it too. That what happened at the movies didn't start with just Calum. And it didn't end there either."

Louis glances over his shoulder. Harry's still in the living room, pacing slow circles with the phone pressed to his ear, his voice low. He's nodding at whatever Calum is saying, expression tense but not cold.

"How are you and Calum?" Louis asks cautiously, making sure not to speak too loud.

Luke sighs. "We're in the weirdest grey zone of all time. We went to sleep together in his bed, then we kissed. Then I fucking told him I'd slept with someone else. He got mad. Then we kissed again. This morning. Now everything is just.. I don't know."

Louis grimaces. "You sure I'm the idiot?"

"Touché."

There's a pause between them.

"I just didn't want you thinking I was cruel," Louis says finally.

"I never thought you were cruel," Luke says. "Just a little lost."

Louis leans against the kitchen counter, eyes closed. "That's fair."

"Call me later?"

"Yeah," Louis says. "I will."

When he hangs up, Harry's already sitting on the couch, phone on the coffee table in front of him, screen dark.

"Calum?" Louis asks.

Harry nods, eyes following the grain of the wood floor. "He said what he needed to. I listened. Told him I wasn't ready to decide anything yet."

Louis swallows. "And us?"

Harry looks up, eyes tired but clear. "We're still trying, right?"

Louis walks over, slow but certain, and sits beside him.

He reaches out and laces their fingers together, the touch grounding them both.

"Yeah," Louis says. "Still trying."

Harry turns his hand palm-up, letting Louis trace the lines there.

"Good," he says. "Because for once... I don't want to run."

Louis leans his head against Harry's shoulder. "Me either."

They sit like that for a while, hands threaded, bodies close, the kind of silence that feels intentional. Safe.

The soft hum of the fridge is the only sound in the room, and Louis thinks, Maybe this is what progress feels like.

Not fireworks. Not dramatic declarations. Just the steady, quiet choice to stay.

Harry shifts slightly, curling one leg underneath himself and turning a little toward Louis. "What did Luke say?"

Louis lets his eyes flutter closed for a second. "That I'm a fucking idiot."

Harry smirks faintly. "Well. At least he's honest."

"But also... that he forgives me." Louis's voice drops a little. "Which I didn't expect. Not after what I let happen."

Harry watches him for a long beat. "You didn't plan it. That matters."

"I still didn't stop it."

"No," Harry agrees. "But you're owning it. That matters too."

Louis exhales, slow and shaky. "I hate that I made you doubt me. I hate that it got to a point where we couldn't even look at each other without holding something back."

Harry doesn't say anything at first. He just watches him. Then, gently, "We were both holding things back, Lou."

Lou.

Louis looks at him, really looks, and for the first time in weeks, it doesn't feel like he's bracing for a blow.

"I want to do this right," Louis says. "I want to stop pretending like everything's fine when it isn't. If we're doing this — really doing it — I need you to call me out when I'm being a dick."

Harry grins a bit, one side of his mouth turning upwards into a half wink. "You sure? That's a full-time job."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Right."

Harry shifts closer, brushing their knees together. "You want to keep trying?"

Louis nods. "I do. Even when it's hard."

"Especially then," Harry murmurs.

Their eyes meet. There's no grand speech, no kiss to tie it all together, just a long, quiet look that says everything they're both too tired to keep saying out loud.

"Speaking with Luke was a good thing," Louis says after a moment. "Told him I was sorry."

Harry nods slowly. "Good."

Louis hesitates. "He's with Calum. He didn't say it, but... I could tell."

Harry's jaw ticks slightly, but he doesn't look surprised. "I figured."

"You okay with that?"

A beat. "I don't know. But it's not my place."

Louis watches him carefully. "You don't hate him? Calum?"

Harry runs a hand through his curls. "Hating him would be easier, yeah. But no. I don't. I think he's messed up. I think he did something shitty. But I also think he's trying, in his own way."

Louis looks down at their hands. "That voicemail he left... he sounded wrecked."

"Yeah," Harry agrees quietly. "He was."

There's a pause.

"You gonna talk to him?" Louis asks.

Harry shrugs. "Maybe. Not today. But maybe."

Louis nods. He doesn't push it.

After a while, Harry shifts, brushing his thumb gently across the back of Louis's hand. "We're gonna be okay."

Louis looks up at him, unsure. "You believe that?"

Harry doesn't hesitate. "I do. Because we're finally saying the hard stuff. And that's a start."

Louis leans in, resting his forehead lightly against Harry's. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

The kiss is quiet when it comes. It's not heavy or desperate, but something softer.

Familiar.

A promise.

But it's intoxicating.

Leaving them want more when they pull apart just enough to breathe, and Louis murmurs, "I'm glad we're here."

Harry smiles, eyes full of warmth. "Yeah."

Outside, the day unfolds like nothing's happened. The sun pushing through clouds, people going about their lives. But in here, something has shifted. Not fixed, not perfect, but real.

And for the first time in a long time, Louis doesn't feel like running.

He just feels like staying.

Chapter 32: Chapter 31

The next few days are a blur for Louis.

He goes from bed with Harry to work without Harry to dinner with Harry and finally to bed with Harry again.

There are no other distractions, like Luke or Calum, for them at the moment. Just the two of them. Louis even had to pass on his usual runs with Stella because it's been so fucking busy.

He has to wake up really early again, as his team is working on a big construction project on the other side of the city. They've been working their asses off for the last few weeks and everything is boiling up to the final days of the project. They're almost finished, but the last few steps are always the hardest, the busiest. So he wakes up even earlier than usual and gets out the door within a moment.

But in these early morning rushes, he doesn't forget to let Harry know he's leaving. Just to reassure him, he's not really leaving him. And to remind himself, Harry will be there when Louis comes back home.

They've been okay, maybe good even, these past few days. In the short amount of time they've seen each other, usually late at night, they've been talking a lot. Being close to each other on the couch which watching TV after dinner. Lazily kissing in bed at night, both too tired to expect or even want anything else. Sleeping through the night wrapped in each others arms.

Louis is so content with where they're at now. He tries his hardest to please Harry, to let him know he's still there and won't leave. To show that he's really trying, for Harry.

This morning starts no different from the last few days. As soon as he hears his alarm ring, he makes sure to immediately turn it off so it doesn't wake Harry up yet. He's careful with his movements, he knows Harry sleeps in later than he does, so he tries to be as silent as possible.

He softly swings his legs out of Harry's bed and makes his way to the door. He's used to slipping out the door and leaving the warmth of Harry's space to get ready in his own room.

These mornings are still dark, but he doesn't want to put on a light in Harry's room.

Louis takes a quick hot shower and with a towel draped around his waist, he starts brushing his teeth, staring at the fogged mirror where only a shadow of himself appears. His mind drifts, caught between the comfort of the apartment and the long day ahead.

He slips into his most comfortable work clothes for the day and puts on his work boots.

Instead of heading straight out, he slips back into the bedroom, not wanting to wake Harry, but hoping for just a moment more. The soft light in the hallway creating a little stripe of yellow light in the otherwise blue-ish morning light in the room.

He hesitates as he looks down at his boots, cement and dirt covering them. He grimaces and then quickly kicks them off, leaving them next to the bed.

Harry stirs the second Louis slides under the covers, fingers curling around his wrist with a gentle firmness.

"Don't go yet," Harry says, voice low and thick with sleep. Not even bothering to open his eyes.

Louis feels the weight of the morning pressing in. The early meeting with the team, the noise, the busy city waiting for him. But in Harry's sleepy features, there's something softer. Something that pulls him back in.

He leans in, brushing his lips against Harry's, slow and sure. The warmth of the kiss sinks into him, grounding the rush of nerves and doubts swirling in his chest.

Harry's fingers rake into his hair, and Louis feels the unspoken question. To stay, just a little longer.

He wants to stay. He wants to curl up here, safe in the quiet between them, where nothing demands more than this moment.

But the clock ticks somewhere beyond the door, the day calling.

Still, he lets himself linger, for just five more minutes. Because sometimes, the hardest part isn't the big decisions or the fights. It's saying goodbye to the small moments that mean everything.

He smiles softly against Harry's mouth. "Okay. Five minutes."

And in those five minutes, the world outside slows down, and for once, Louis doesn't have to choose.

But their peaceful silence is broken when Harry lets go of Louis' wrist. Indicating he knows Louis really has to go.

And somewhere inside Harry it stings. Every minute spent with Louis feels like a second. He knows work is calling him but he wants more time with Louis. He feels constantly as if the time is slipping away.

"Dinner tonight?" Harry asks, his eyes soft as they finally open to get a last look of Louis for today.

Louis sits upright, bending a bit off the bed to put on and tie his boots again. He turns his body around a bit, "I can't. We need to finish the project earlier than expected so we'll do some overtime."

Harry just stares at Louis, drinking in every feature of his appearance. "Oh, okay."

Louis tastes the disappointment in Harry's words. Not completely sure about it, he knits his brows together as he stands up, adjusting his clothes.

"Sorry."

He hates leaving Harry on these early mornings.

"Don't be. I just-" Harry stops talking and curls his arm over his eyes, as if to shield Louis from looking at his face.

Louis glances at his watch for a second, he needs to be out of the house in two minutes. So, he better make this quick.

He slides his knees on the bed again, making sure his dirty boots stay far from the linen.

"Harry?" He asks, softly grabbing Harry's arm to expose his face. "Tell me what's going on."

Harry shifts beneath the covers, "I just miss you when you're gone." He mutters, his cheeks hinting a bit of red.

Louis sighs, deep down he already knew. But he can't change it.

He reaches up, brushing his fingers gently along Harry's cheek, tracing the faint blush there like a quiet promise.

"I miss you too," Louis whispers, voice low enough that it felt like it belonged just between them. "But this," He nods toward the door, "this has to happen. We'll make it work."

Harry nods slowly, eyes searching Louis's face like trying to memorize every line before the day took him away.

Louis swallows the lump rising in his throat and presses a lingering kiss to Harry's forehead.

"I'll be back here as soon as I can, need to finish as much as I can today for the project," Louis promises, "And the day after tomorrow, I'm yours all day."

Harry's smile is small but real, the kind that reaches all the way to his eyes. That brings out sparkles.

"Okay," he replies simply, content with the answer, "I'll hold you to that. Can't wait."

Louis leans onto his forearms again, letting his lips swiftly touch Harry's. He wants more, but knows if he continues he won't be able to leave.

Louis finally pulls back, he pulls the covers back over Harry, slipping from the bed with a quiet sigh.

He pauses once more by the door, turning back to see Harry already half-drifted off again, peaceful now.

That moment, that look on Harry's face, his words, carry him through the rush of the morning and into the noise of the city outside.

Because no matter how many hours stretch between them, Louis knows he'd always find his way back here. To this. To them. To Harry.

As Harry wakes up a few hours later the sun softly shines through the curtains, setting everything in a different light.

It's almost as if the sun is mocking him, showing him the apartment really is empty besides Harry. The space suddenly feels too big again, too empty.

Chills run down his spine as he lies there, listening, to nothing in particular.

He pulls the blankets closer to his chin, but the cold doesn't leave him. It's not just the temperature, it's the way Louis' absence fills the air, heavy and aching.

He finally moves and gets himself a tea. But nothing comes out of his hands after.

He should be working.

The art project sits on his desk, untouched, colors and brushes waiting.

But his hands hesitate, like they're weighed down by something invisible. The quiet hum of the city outside seeps through the window, but inside, his mind is a storm of thoughts that won't settle.

His gaze drifts to the corner of the room where Louis kicked off his boots this morning — scuffed and dirty, reminders of the work Louis does, the life they don't always share fully. The boots feel like a symbol of the distance between them, the time Louis spends elsewhere, and the hours Harry wishes they could stretch forever.

He picks up a brush but instead of starting his planned painting, he lets the colors spill out in messy, aching strokes. Blues and grays mixing with splashes of something warmer but fading fast.

It's not about the project anymore, it's about how it feels when Louis is gone. A quiet loneliness that settles deep inside, the ache of wanting more but not knowing if he's allowed to want it.

Harry's heart twists with a question he barely dares to speak, even to himself.

Does Louis really want this?

Want him?

Does he want them to be something more than stolen mornings and late-night dinners?

The word "boyfriends" hovers just out of reach, fragile and frightening, like a secret he's not sure he's ready to share. Or maybe one Louis wouldn't want to say aloud.

The doubt claws at him.

The same doubt that settles in whenever he starts feeling the jealousy he’s grown to hate so much.

Oh, to be 16 again and make a better life choice. To not go to that specific party where they met them.

But that’s too late to turn back now, and every day Harry will have to live with the consequences of his own actions.

He blinks at the canvas, sucked back into reality.

Maybe Louis likes it this way, undefined and easy. Maybe Harry is the only one hoping for a name, a label, something to hold onto when the days stretch too long and the goodbyes feel too sharp.

Maybe Harry wants things too go too fast. Like he's scared of Louis slipping through his fingers.

Maybe Harry doesn't know how to give space, how to let go.

A sharp pain cuts his breath off as a question keeps returning in his head, is he suffocating Louis?

Harry's mind spins back to this morning, those brief moments under the covers, the way Louis hesitated but still left. Did Louis feel the same longing? Or was it just habit, routine? Did Louis see them the same way Harry does, or was Harry alone in wanting something more?

The doubt gnaws at him like a shadow.

It claws its way up from his gut, twists through his chest, steals the breath from his lungs.

His fingers curl around the brush, the solid wood grounding him but not calming the ache inside. He's scared, so scared of losing Louis. Not just when he's away at work, but forever. The thought of Louis slipping through his fingers because he was too afraid to ask for what he wants makes his chest tighten. Makes him mourn something that hasn't even happened yet.

Harry wants to be brave. He wants to tell Louis how much he wants them to be more. Not just moments stolen in the dark, but something real, something named. But the words feel heavy, like they might break what they already have.

Instead, he lets the paintbrush hover over the canvas again. He dips it into a deep blue, swirling it slowly, unsure. The painting becomes a reflection of everything he can't say, an ache, a hope, a question painted in color.

His mind spirals. Back the broken past, the uncertain present, and every moment with Louis replaying like film on a loop.

How they've gone from enemies, or maybe only on Louis part, to okay-ish flatmates, to friends and now to what.. lovers? Can he call them that?

He finally puts down the brush with a sigh, the half-finished canvas staring back at him like a mirror of his own uncertainty. For now, the colors are enough. They are a way to hold the feelings, to give shape to what he can't say.

Outside, the city carries on, and inside, Harry waits.

Waiting for the courage to speak the words he's not sure he can say, and for the moment Louis might be ready to hear them.

-

Later that evening, the apartment smells faintly of paint, takeout and warm candles. Louis slips inside after a long day, the exhaustion in his shoulders clear, but his eyes searching for Harry.

He find him in his bedroom.

There, Harry is waiting by the easel, the half-finished canvas propped up and catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

Louis pauses, eyes drawn to the swirling, turbulent colors, deep blues and grays tangled with streaks of warmer tones, as if the painting itself is breathing.

"That's... wow," Louis says quietly, stepping closer. His voice is gentle, curious.

Harry swallows, suddenly nervous under Louis's gaze. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I, uh, started it a few hours ago. When you left this morning."

Louis stills in front of the easel, eyes flicking over the canvas with a quiet intensity.

"There's something about it," he says slowly. "Like it's... reaching for something that's just out of frame."

Harry's breath catches. He hadn't meant to say anything. He wasn't even sure what he was painting until now.

"It's like..." Louis tilts his head, still studying it. "All the colors are trying to touch each other but don't quite get there."

Harry swallows, voice low. "Yeah. That's kind of what it feels like sometimes."

Louis turns to him, brows drawn in the soft kind of worry Harry's seen before, the kind that comes when he's trying to read between lines Harry hasn't written.

"What were you trying to say with it?"

Harry hesitates. His fingers twitch at his sides. "I don't know. Maybe... maybe I wasn't trying to say anything. Maybe I was just trying to feel it. Without saying it."

Louis looks at the painting again, at the storm of color, the ghost of warmth under all the blue.

"It looks like something unfinished," he murmurs. "But not ruined. Just... waiting."

Harry feels it hit somewhere in his chest. The painting. The two of them. The aching part of him that wants more but doesn't know how to ask.

"Yeah," Harry says. "Waiting sounds about right."

Louis studies the painting for a moment more, as if trying to see what Harry sees beneath the layers of paint. He tilts his head as he takes a soft breath in. "It's... kind of sad."

Harry nods, biting his lip. "It is. I guess... it's how it feels when you're not here. Like something's missing but I'm not sure exactly what."

Louis glances up, searching Harry's face for more. "Is it about us?"

Harry hesitates. "Maybe. I didn't plan it to be. But it kind of became that. It just- I don't know."

The silence between them stretches, heavy and full.

Louis finally asks, voice soft, "What do you want it to be?"

Harry's heart pounds. This is the moment he's been turning over in his mind, the moment to put the words out into the quiet.

He looks down at his hands, then back at Louis. "I want... I want us to be something more than just moments when we can catch each other. But I'm scared, you know? Scared you might not want that."

Louis's eyes widen a little, caught off guard by the honesty. He steps closer to Harry, reaching out his hand to lace their fingers together.

Harry feels a flicker of hope, maybe the painting wasn't just a silent confession after all.

Louis squeezes his hand gently. "I don't know what the future looks like, Harry. But I want to try. With you."

A small, relieved smile breaks over Harry's face, and in that quiet apartment filled with fading daylight and the weight of unspoken things, the painting no longer feels quite so heavy.

Harry lets out a shaky breath. "I want to try as well, for you."

Louis softly smiles up at him as he closes the distance between them.

"We'll be alright H."

Chapter 33: Chapter 32

The first thing Louis says that morning is, "Fuck, I forgot how good this feels."

He's sprawled half on top of Harry, arm slung over his stomach, warm breath fanning across Harry's collarbone.

It's already past 9, the sun filtering in through the curtains, and neither of them is in a rush to move.

Harry hums softly. "Sleep?"

"No," Louis mutters, voice still rough with sleep. "This. Waking up with you and not having to leave in five minutes."

Harry smiles, letting his fingers drift lazily through Louis's hair. "Told you it's better when you don't vanish before sunrise."

Louis lifts his head just enough to press a kiss to Harry's chest. "I'm here now."

And he is. All warm and sleepy and settled. Harry lets himself believe it for a little while. Lets himself imagine the rest of the day stretching ahead like this—slow, quiet, theirs.

He's finally finished the project yesterday and he promised Harry to have this day off just for the both of them.

They make tea without speaking much, brushing shoulders and leaning into each other like it's instinct. Louis steals half of Harry's toast, and Harry rolls his eyes but lets him.

There's music playing softly from Harry's phone, something acoustic and easy. The apartment smells like citrus from a candle Louis lit and then forgot about.

It's perfect.

Until Louis freezes mid-sip, eyes flicking to the clock on the microwave.

"Shit."

Harry's heart dips before Louis even says anything.

"What?" he asks, carefully even.

"I told Stella we'd meet her and Luke for lunch. It's her weekend off too, and we haven't actually caught up in—fuck, like a while."

Harry lowers his mug. "You told her? As in you made these plans already?"

Louis grimaces. "Yeah. A while ago. Forgot completely. It was before—"
He waves vaguely between them. "Before all this."

Harry doesn't respond right away. He just walks his mug back to the counter, rinses it out, and turns back around, arms folded loosely over his chest.

"I thought we were doing something together today," he says, it's not angry — just a little quieter than usual.

"We are," Louis says quickly. "I'm not bailing, just... would you come? With me? I'll tell them I'm bringing you."

Harry hesitates. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm fucking sure." Louis steps closer, reaching out but stopping just short of touching. "It's not how I pictured today going either, but... I want you there. If you want that as well, of course."

The last part added a bit more hesitantly.

Harry nods slowly, still chewing it over. "Okay. I'll come."

Louis gives a small relieved smile, and Harry pretends it doesn't sting, just a bit, that he's now an afterthought to pre-existing plans. He knows Louis didn't mean it like that, but the feeling is there anyway — like being promised a whole cake and ending up with a polite slice.

The café is noisy, open-air, and already bustling by the time they arrive. Louis spots Stella first — bold lipstick, big sunglasses, and an even bigger grin when she sees them. She waves wildly.

And then there's Luke, next to her, tall and half-asleep as usual. Calum's sitting beside him, chair tilted back on two legs, picking at his nails, eyes following their every move already.

Harry tenses slightly.

He hadn't realized Calum would be there.

Louis had probably assumed he already knew.

"Hey!" Stella's voice cuts through, pulling Louis into a hug. "You look like someone who just got a day off after a month in the mines."

Louis laughs, hugging her tight. "Feels like it too."

"Harry," she says, turning with a big smile and drawing him in as well, "thank you for letting us steal your boyfriend for a bit."

Harry blinks, thrown a little by the word — boyfriend — but Stella's already moving on, sliding back into her chair.

Louis doesn't correct her.

Harry follows him to the table, heart thudding. Maybe it's not official. Maybe she just assumed. But Louis didn't flinch. Didn't deny it. That has to mean something, right?

They sit down. Luke nods at them in that lazy way of his. "Didn't realize this was gonna turn into a double date."

Harry flicks his eyes toward Calum, who lifts his drink in half-greeting but doesn't say much. The air feels a bit tighter suddenly. Luke and Calum aren't being rude, not really but it's the kind of polite distance Harry recognizes. Especially from Calum.

The conversation flows around the table — mostly Stella and Louis catching up in fast-paced back-and-forth, with Luke chiming in here and there. Harry listens, drinks his iced tea, nods at the right times.

Louis keeps brushing his knee against Harry's under the table. A small thing. Intentional. Steadying.

After a while, Stella turns the attention toward Harry. "So, are you working on something new?" she asks brightly. "Art-wise, I mean."

Harry nods, eyes flicking to Louis for just a second. "Yeah. A few pieces. One might actually be... finished."

"Oh?" Louis perks up. "Which one?"

Harry shrugs, but a small smile plays on his lips. "The blue one."

Louis softens immediately, and Harry feels a little of the tension melt from his shoulders.

Calum watches them for a beat longer than necessary, unreadable.

The café is warm with late sun and distant music, and the conversation has hit that comfortable lull where no one feels the need to fill the silence.

Stella is sipping slowly from her drink, twirling the straw between her fingers. Her sunglasses are off now, resting on the table, and her expression is soft, almost distracted.

Louis notices. Of course he does. He's been watching her all afternoon the way only someone who's seen someone else at their absolute worst can, careful, observant, protective, without being overbearing.

"So, Stel," he says, resting his chin in his hand. "You gonna tell me what's got you floating today? You look like you're thinking about something dangerously romantic."

Stella raises an eyebrow, half-smiling. "And so what if I am?"

Harry glances at her with quiet curiosity. Luke leans back in his chair, suddenly more invested.

Harry notices, Luke is always in for some drama it feels like.

Louis squints. "Wait. Oh my God. Don't tell me-"

She lifts her glass to her mouth to hide her smile. "Zayn."

Louis blinks, while pointing his thumb to Harry. "Zayn? Zayn Zayn? Like Harry's Zayn?"

"You know another one?"

Stella's sass is unbelievable.

Luke laughs into his hand, his eyes squinting from his smile. Calum rolls his eyes but it's more amused than anything else.

"No, I just—when?" Louis asks, eyes wide now.

Stella shrugs, pretending to be casual, but she's absolutely glowing. "After the movie night. He offered me a ride home. We talked the whole drive. It was... nice."

"Nice?" Louis repeats, clearly fishing for more. He hadn't realized Zayn and Stella actually drove home together as he probably was too engulfed in him and Harry's drama.

"Really nice," she says, a bit quieter this time. "He walked me up. We stood by my door for like twenty minutes."

Louis's eyes snap wide. "Did he kiss you?"

"Uh."

"Oh my God, he kissed you!"

Stella doesn't deny it. Just grins and looks down, blush blooming up her neck.

Louis lets out a laugh, equal parts shocked and thrilled. "Holy shit. Stella, I—Zayn is- okay, I did not see that coming, but I'm kind of obsessed with it?"

She looks up at him with a sheepish smile. "You think?"

"I know. Honestly, if he makes you smile like that, I'm already sold."

There's something really pure about the way he says it. No teasing, just soft and sure.

It makes Harry's chest tighten a little, in a good way.

Louis looks at her like someone who once helped tape her back together and is now watching her become something new.

Across the table, Luke makes a fake gagging noise. "This is gross. When did we become this wholesome?"

"You're just mad nobodies fanning like that over you," Calum mutters, raising an eyebrow.

Luke flips him off, but there's no heat in it.

Then Calum's gaze flicks to Harry, a beat of something unspoken there.

Harry doesn't look away.

There's still... history there between them. Not romantic, but emotional. Unresolved. They haven't really spoken since Calum's stunt at the movies when he used Louis to rile them up. Mostly Harry. And maybe Luke too.

But Calum and him had of course talked on the phone the day after. Said he didn't think it would matter, didn't realize it would go that far.

Harry had nodded, accepted it. But he'd also pulled back. Not out of anger, but to give himself space to breathe.

So when Calum suddenly stands up and says, "I'm gonna get some air and a cig. Harry, walk with me?" it's not out of nowhere.

Nobody questions it either.

Harry doesn't hesitate this time. "Yeah, alright."

They step out into the cooler air, away from the warmth of the café and the buzz of conversation. It's quieter here, shaded by the curve of an old brick wall and low trees overhead.

Calum kicks a pebble with his shoe. "Didn't think I'd get the invite extended today."

Harry glances at him. "Didn't think you'd be here, to be honest."

A beat passes.

"I came for Luke," Calum says. Casually. Like Harry might know what happened between them. Which he doesn't by the way. He just knows something happened.

They fall into step as they walk a bit up the street.

Harry speaks first. "You hurt me that night. I think you know that."

"I did," Calum says simply, putting a cigarette between his lips as he extends the package towards Harry, offering him. "And I hated it."

Harry exhales through his nose, shaking his head, declining the offer. "You used Louis to push my buttons, Cal. That wasn't cool."

"I know. At first I thought it was just... harmless chaos. Y'know, like old times." He rubs the back of his neck before he lights the cigarette. "But I didn't clock how much it mattered to you. He mattered."

Harry doesn't reply for a second.

"He does," he says quietly.

Calum stops walking and looks at him, really looks. "Good. Because he's in deep too, mate. You see that, yeah?"

Harry nods.

"I never wanted to ruin anything between you two. I was being a prick, trying to make Luke jealous and maybe get under your skin a little. I didn't realize I'd shoved you toward something real."

Harry blows out a laugh. "You really were an idiot that night."

Calum grins a little, sheepish. "Still am, occasionally."

They share a brief look, one of those old, silent ones that don't need translating.

"We good?" Calum asks, blowing out smoke.

Harry hesitates, then nods. "Yeah. We are."

And he means it. He can understand where Calum came from. He understands that life is not always so easy and everybody makes mistakes, don't they?

They start walking back toward the café.

"I still think about how mad you were at me, though," Calum says lightly, throwing the end of his cigarette away. "You've got a terrifying glare when you want to."

"Don't push your luck," Harry says, but he's smiling now.

When they return, Louis immediately straightens up from where he's laughing at something Stella whispered. His eyes flick to Harry first — always to Harry — checking his face, his shoulders, the way he's holding himself.

Harry nods, just a little, to let him know it's okay, and Louis visibly relaxes.

Stella's still glowing, cheeks pink, and Luke's leaning back with an exaggerated sigh.

"Great," Luke says dryly, running a hand through his blonde curls and very obviously avoiding to look at Calum. "Everyone's in love now. Can we go back to being emotionally stunted?"

"You can," Stella says sweetly. "The rest of us are evolving."

Louis grins, throwing an arm lazily around Harry's chair. "Speak for yourself. I've been emotionally evolved since birth."

Harry snorts. "Yeah right, that what we're calling it?"

Louis just smirks, and in that moment — laughter buzzing, the sunlight catching in Stella's hair, Calum and Luke mock-bickering across the table — Harry lets himself lean into Louis' arm.

It's not a perfect day. Not how he pictured it. But it's something real. Something in progress.

And maybe that's even better.

-

The doorbell rings just as the group is settling in on the couch.

The café got a bit crowded and so they went over to Calums apartment for a bit, as he lives the closest to it.

Louis opens the door to find Zayn standing there with a small bouquet of wildflowers.

"Hey you." Louis steps aside to let him in, "Nice flowers."

"Hey mate, coming to pick up Stella." Zayn says as he steps inside, pulling Louis into a half assed side hug.

Stella smiles up at him, just a bit shy, as he enters the room. "Hi."

Zayn hands her the flowers and leans in to kiss her softly on the cheek. Stella's cheeks flush pink, and Louis watches with a soft smile.

Luke is sitting on the couch, a little tense but trying to keep it casual. Calum is next to him, lounging but with a sharpness in his eyes. He nudges Luke subtly, his gaze flickering between Zayn and Harry.

Calum whistles between his teeth. "Look at Zayn, being all public with his moves. Didn't think you had it in you, mate."

Zayn chuckles softly, shooting Calum a glance but nothing more than that. He knows Calum for longer than just today anyway.

Harry senses something off in the air.

Maybe it is the way Calum keeps glancing at Luke, and the subtle stiffness in Luke's posture. Luke's jaw is tight, and every so often, his fingers tap nervously against the couch

Harry knows something happened between the two but isn't sure what it is exactly.

Calum's teasing seems like an excuse, a way to needle Luke, to remind him that he's watching, waiting.

Luke catches Calum's eye and forces a small smile, but there's something fragile in it. He shifts closer to Calum, trying to close the distance that's grown between them.

Calum's smirk softens for a moment, but then his eyes dart toward Harry, lingering there with a flicker of something unresolved.

Harry meets Calum's gaze and senses the silent challenge, the unspoken hurt and guardedness.

Louis, busy chatting with Stella and Zayn, misses the tension threading through the room.

Calum leans back but doesn't relax. He glances at Luke again, who looks down for a second, a shadow crossing his face.

Harry wonders how much longer Calum can keep up the teasing without it spilling over, how much Luke can hold back before the cracks show.

Louis finally notices the quiet between Harry and Calum. "You guys okay?" he asks, genuinely puzzled.

Calum shrugs with a half-smile. "Yeah, all good. Just having a bit of fun."

Luke nods, but the tightness in his eyes tells a different story. He seems out of place. His body close to Calums, in Calums home, but there's an undeniable distance between them.

Harry watches them both, caught in the undercurrent of something complicated. Love and hurt tangled up in old wounds and new hopes.

And as the room buzzes with easy laughter and quiet smiles, Harry feels the weight of things left unsaid, knowing that sometimes the hardest part isn't being together — it's finding a way to stay close without breaking.

-

The apartment has now quieted down. Louis and Harry are in the kitchen, cleaning up a bit before they go so Calum isn't left with all the messes, their laughter soft and easy.

Stella and Zayn have gone home. Luke and Calum linger in the living room, the silence between them thick.

Calum leans back against the armrest of the couch, arms crossed, watching Luke's restless fingers trace invisible patterns on his jeans.

Luke exhales sharply, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, voice rough. "I shouldn't have made you come."

Calum's jaw tightens. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."

Luke looks up, eyes searching Calum's face, looks for something in his dark eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Nothing is explained within that sentence but they both definitely know what Luke is talking about.

Calum scoffs softly, almost bitter. "Doesn't mean it didn't."

Luke shifts uncomfortably. "I know things have been... weird between us. I'm trying. I want to fix it."

Calum's gaze softens just a little, but the hurt is still there, boiling just beneath the surface. "It's not just about that. It's everything. The waiting, the not knowing where I stand. I don't like feeling like I'm second-guessing everything. In fact, I fucking hate it."

Luke nods slowly. "I get that. And I'm sorry for making you feel that way. I just—sometimes I'm scared, Cal. Scared of screwing it all up again."

Calum's arms uncross, a small crack in his armor. "Yeah, me too."

They sit in silence for a moment, the tension easing but not gone.

Luke finally reaches out, brushing a hand over Calum's. "Let's try again. No more secrets. No more slipping up."

Calum meets his eyes, a flicker of hope there. "Yeah. No more slipping up."

It's not fixed, not yet. But maybe it's a start.

Calum then stands up, going to check if Louis and Harry are done with the tidying up in the kitchen or if they need some help. He adjusts his shirt, lingering a bit too long in front of Luke. He tucks a loose curl behind his ear and shifts his jaw a little before blowing out a breath. "Stay here?" He asks Luke, voice barely a whisper, as if he's scared to let the others hear his question.

Luke pulls in his bottom lip, just nodding. Almost eager. Too eager.

Calum lifts his eyebrows a bit, hiding a grin behind his hand before he makes his way to the kitchen.

Louis is drying the last of the mugs when Calum steps into the kitchen.

"Need help?" Calum asks, already reaching for the tea towel hanging by the sink.

"Nah, we've got it," Louis replies, flashing him a casual grin. Then, quieter, "You okay?"

Calum shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah. Just... long day."

Harry glances at him from where he's wiping down the counter, reading the edges of that answer, but doesn't press. Not his place — not anymore, maybe. Not in this room.

Louis meets Harry's eyes, a flicker of softness passing between them. "Ready to head out?"

Harry nods. "Yeah."

They say their goodbyes — a round of hugs and quiet thanks. Calum tells them to get home safe, Luke murmurs something that sounds like "text me," though it's hard to tell who it's directed to.

As they step into the quiet hallway, Louis takes Harry's hand. Not a casual brush or nudge. He actually reaches out, fingers threading tight between Harry's.

Neither of them says anything on the walk out.

The cab ride back to their apartment is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Harry rests his head against the window, eyes tracing the neon blur of the city sliding past. Louis watches him for a moment before leaning in closer, hand finding Harry's thigh.

"Sorry again," Louis murmurs. "For earlier. I should've told you Calum might be there."

Harry turns to look at him, really look. "It's not about Calum. Not really."

Louis nods, accepting that. "Still. You were right. I made plans without thinking about you."

Harry doesn't say anything right away. Then, after a beat: "You called me your boyfriend."

Louis smiles, lopsided. "I kind of did, didn't I?"

Harry watches him for a moment, then leans in to kiss him, soft and slow. The kind of kiss that makes up for missed mornings and crowded cafes.

The apartment is dim when they step inside, the scent of that forgotten citrus candle still lingering faintly in the air. Louis drops his keys on the counter and toes off his shoes with a sigh.

Something has changed in the air between them, but Louis can't exactly see what.

Harry leans in the doorway, watching him. "You wanna crash?"

Louis shakes his head. "Not yet. Just want to be... here. With you."

They move to the couch like they've done this a hundred times. Familiar. Safe. Louis curls up next to Harry, head resting on his shoulder, legs tangled. They don't turn on the lights. The city outside is enough.

Harry strokes his fingers through Louis's hair. "You sure you're okay?"

Louis nods into his shirt, Harry's faint cologne calming him. "I am now."

They stay like that, breathing together, hearts slowing. The weight of the day sliding off in pieces.

“You really meant it about me being your boyfriend?” Harry can’t, but ask.

“Yeah. If you want to?” Louis whispers.

“Yeah.”

Louis smiles, “Fuck. Okay. Boyfriend.”

He tastes the word on his tongue as the quiet after that stretches between them, not awkward but full, like something waiting.

The only sound is the hum of the fridge, the occasional passing car below. There's music playing in a bar outside, faintly audible in their apartment.

Louis's thumb moves slowly where it rests on Harry's hip, a soft, absent motion that feels anything but accidental. He's been very touchy for the whole night, running his fingers everywhere he can without touching certain parts. But getting dangerously close to it at times.

Harry turns his head slightly, his nose brushing against Louis's hair. "You sure you're not tired?"

Louis doesn't answer right away. His hand slides a little further across Harry's stomach, fingers curving over the soft hem of his t-shirt. He exhales, warm against Harry's neck.

"I don't want to sleep," he says finally, low.

Harry shifts so they're facing each other more directly. Louis's knees bend, curling around his own, and suddenly they're chest-to-chest, their breath mingling in the narrow space between them.

His voice is quiet. "What is it you want, then?"

Louis's eyes lift slowly, meeting his. There's no hesitation there, no teasing in his voice now. Just something honest, and a little raw. "You."

The way he says it makes Harry's breath catch in his throat. He sucks in a slight "Fuck." together with a hot breath.

Not 'I want you' but just 'you'. As if that word, on its own, holds everything.

Harry doesn't answer. He leans in instead, brushing their mouths together — not a kiss, not quite, just a shared breath.

Louis's hand finds his jaw, fingers sliding along the line of it, holding him still. "You always do that," he murmurs, just barely audible.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like you've already decided."

Harry's lips curve. "I have."

That earns him a kiss — a real one this time. Soft and steady, Louis's mouth sure against his. It's not rushed. If anything, it's deliberate— the kind of kiss that draws out time instead of chasing it.

Louis shifts, half-climbing into his lap, hands settling at Harry's sides like it's instinct. Their mouths never quite part. The kiss deepens, drawing something heavier between them, slower and more intent.

Harry's hands settle on Louis's thighs, sliding up, holding him there. His hands squeeze and grasp onto them.

There's a pause when they break for breath. Their foreheads rest together, eyes fluttering closed.

"You okay?" Louis whispers, panting a bit.

Harry nods, thumb brushing lazy circles against his waist. "Yeah. Are you?"

Louis huffs a quiet laugh, but it's soft. "Yeah. More than."

Harry leans forward and kisses the corner of Louis's mouth, then his cheek, then just under his jaw, where the skin is warm and smells like sweat and citrus and him.

Louis exhales sharply, tipping his head back a bit, giving him more room.

It's easy from there — the shift from teasing to intent. From wanting to need.

Louis pulls back just enough to look at him, eyes dark now, lips red, kiss-bitten.

"Should we... go to bed?" he asks, quiet but sure.

Harry just nods, reaching for his hand.

They stand together, still tangled in each other, and move down the hallway like they already know the way.

And maybe they do. Maybe they always have.

Harry tugs on the waist of Louis' jeans, curling his fingers through the belt loops, to keep him close. To not let him get away. To keep him as flush against him as possible.

Their lips are still connected, moving against each other like they're trying to explore all of it. Hands raking up and down each others bodies.

Harry leads the way, making Louis walk backwards through the door. He slowly shifts him towards the bed, until Louis' legs buckle over the edge of the bed. Louis then lets himself fall back onto the mattress.

Louis widens his leg a little, making room for Harry to push his knee onto the bed to bend over him. His knee sliding up the covers so it's just touching the tight jeans crotch of Louis.

Harry puts his arms on the bed, right next to Louis' face, hovering over him. His curls dancing around his flushed face.

Harry breaks their kiss and pulls back a little, looking down on Louis. He enjoys how squirmy and uncomfortable Louis looks underneath his stare. Like, he's so- "You okay?"

Louis nods, clearly trying to find some relief.

"Harry." Louis knows his voice is whiny. It's the only thing Louis has been able to push out his throat these last few moments, and he's for sure not going to be saying anything else soon.

Harry smirks down on him, as he's letting his hands trail at the bottom hem of Louis' shirt. "A bit needy, aren't we?"

Louis rolls his eyes in reply to that, before arching his back a little, just so his lower region touches against Harry's knee. Just for that tiny bit of relief he's been aching for.

Harry just tsk's. He fucking tsk's at Louis..

He pulls back his knee ever so slightly, making Louis groan as he can't rub his crotch up against it anymore. "Please."

Harry raises a brow, swiftly grabbing both of Louis' arms and pulling him to stand up again in the same movement.

Louis looks a bit bewildered at the sudden change of position but he starts unbuttoning Harry's shirt without question.

Harry shakes his head, "No."

"No?" Louis asks, a bit lost as to why Harry doesn't want his shirt unbuttoned.

Harry just grins and takes off Louis' tee in a second. "Get your jeans off."

Louis, obedient as ever, immediately tugs on his belt, opens the zipper and slides out of the jeans.

He's then just standing there in front of Harry. Bare chested in only his white boxers, that usually aren't the most modest, because they're basically see through, but now with his bulge almost splitting the fabric, they don't leave anything to the imagination.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." Harry lets his eyes trail down Louis' body hungrily before pushing him back down on the bed again, he pushes his knee between Louis' legs again and connects his mouth with his neck within a second.

His left hand rests on the bed beside Louis' head. Harry kisses, licks and bites the sensitive skin in his neck, making Louis gasp and breathe out in pleasure.

His other hand trails its way down to tug on the waistband of Louis' boxers. He snaps the band against his skin a few times, before gently palming him through the fabric, making Louis groan into his ear. "Harry."

"Yes?" Harry asks in between the kisses.

"Please, I need y-"

Harry cuts him off before he can say anything else. "Shh, right now I'll decide what you need."

Louis desperately grabs a fistful of Harry's shirt, trying to get him as close to him as possible. Harry leans down again and kisses him on the lips again.

He lets his tongue dart over Louis' bottom lip, signaling he needs him to open his mouth. And when Louis does, their tongues twist around each other like they've never done otherwise. They hungrily, passionately join each others mouth.

Louis feels so so good, but he wants, needs, more. Between the kisses he gasps for breath, calling out for Harry. "MhmHarry."

Harry pulls back, leaving a sudden empty, coldness on Louis' mouth.

But his mind and body are soon preoccupied with pleasure again as Harry plants his lips on Louis' neck again. Louis tilts his head a bit backwards so Harry has more access.

"I- Oh my-" Louis breathes, voice heavy.

He feels Harry smirk against the skin in his neck, his teeth softly scraping over his collarbone. He continues to make his way down towards Louis' boxers, while he leaves trails of wet saliva all over Louis' body.

Louis graps onto the covers as if to steady himself.

Finally having reached the waistband of the boxers he curls his fingers around it. He's now kneeled down on the ground, he then grips Louis' bare thighs and forcefully pulls him towards him. He positions Louis right on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs wide.

Harry looks up at the guy, only to find a very squirmy, needy looking Louis. "Harry, please."

"Can I?" Harry hooks his fingers at the waistband again, as to ask for permission and after it's granted, he slides them down Louis' legs effortlessly. Exposing his very needy, hard member.

"Fuck." Harry hisses, eyes glossed over like he's a kid in a candyshop. "So so beautiful."

Louis is getting a bit impatient now. He needs, needs Harry to do something.

"Harry." He whines throwing his head back in pleasure as Harry starts touching him again. His hands raking everywhere, over his thighs, down his calves, up his hips.

Louis can't fucking take this anymore and he lifts his hand to start stroking himself, so, he grabs it but before he can move his hand down on his dick, Harry puts his hand over it. Squeezing Louis hand and indirectly also his dick, Louis groans.

"You're not fucking doing that." Harry bites out. "You keep your hands above your head."

Louis obeys immediately, raising his arms and crossing his wrists right above his head.

Harry pushes him backwards on the bed again, but keeps him on the edge of it, so he has full access to everything down there.

He lets his fingers lazily trail around Louis' dick, purposely teasing him. Louis buckles his hips forward, as if to try and lean into the touch to get some relief.

Harry finally attaches his mouth to Louis’ skin again, but this time its on his dick. He works his way up and down the shaft, Louis’ heavy breaths and moans guiding him on.

“Fuck.” Louis exclaims, as his moans get more intense and his breathing more ragged, “I’m so close.”

Harry smirks while having Louis in his mouth like this, his teeth softly scraping against the skin as he laughs from the back of his throat. The hot air thrilling Louis.

“Yes you are.” Harry says as he’s lifted his touch for a moment, a string of hot saliva connecting them still.

He makes Louis feel so fucking good as he keeps working on him.

And it’s not long before Harry grips his own hard dick in his hand as well, and starts stroking it down. With the same rhytm he’s been going for with Louis but he feels he’s coming to a close real soon.

He falls into stroke with his work on Louis and after a moment they come to a climax. A symphony of moans and groans is the only thing heard in the room.

Harry bends down to connect their lips again, both heavily breathing and sloppily moving against each others mouths.

Louis sees actual stars in his vision from the impact of his orgasm, Harry blissfully shooting his load onto Louis’ stomach.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Harry breathes out, leaning over Louis, “You were so fucking good.”

Louis can’t bring out a word yet, he might’ve missed Harry’s climax because he tiredly gestures towards his dick.

“Your turn.” He finally makes out, chest rising up and down like he’s just ran a marathon.

Harry chuckles at the fact that even in the complete daze Louis is in he still thinks about Harry. “Next time.”

“You sure?” Louis asks after a while of just laying there, a bit sobered up now, having come down from the high. Not entirely believing that he can’t do anything for Harry right now.

“Yeah.” Harry smiles against Louis lips as he presses a kiss on them. He really wanted Louis to have this. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?”

All Louis can do is nod.

He brushes a strand of hair back from Louis's forehead, gentle. "C’mon.”

They move through the motions together — quietly, steam curling in the bathroom like a warm hug. The water runs hot as they step in, and Louis lets out a low breath, like he's finally starting to thaw.

Harry stands behind him, arms wrapped around his waist for a moment, just holding him under the stream of water. Then he reaches for the shampoo.

"Sit," he says softly, nudging Louis to kneel on the little built-in bench in the shower.

Louis blinks up at him, confused.

"Let me wash your hair," Harry says simply.

And something in Louis folds.

He doesn't speak, just sits down and lets Harry tilt his head back into the water. His eyes close. He's breathing through his nose, face slack with exhaustion.

Harry lathers the shampoo slowly, fingers gentle and sure. Massaging into Louis's scalp like it's something sacred, something that deserves all the time in the world.

Neither of them talks.

Louis leans into the touch like it's the only thing anchoring him. His eyes are filled to the brim with tears, as this touch is so kind, so gentle.

Rinsing comes next, then conditioner, Harry's fingers still carding through his hair with the same slow care, like Louis might break if he's too fast. Like this is what love looks like — not grand gestures, not declarations, but soft hands in shampoo and quiet closeness.

Louis's voice finally breaks the silence, quiet and thick. "Thank you."

Harry hums, rinsing the last of the suds away. "For what?"

Louis opens his eyes, meeting Harry's. "For this. For what you did for me tonight. For giving me a chance to be your boyfriend.”

Harry brushes damp hair from his face. "Don’t need to thank me for that. I needed to give you this. Been longing for it for so long.”

Louis looks away quickly, but not before Harry sees it — the way his throat works around something unspoken, the way his fingers dig into his own knees like he's grounding himself.

The thoughts that he doesn’t deserve Harry fighting for air in his mind. Like demons that’ll never leave.

Harry notices the way Louis gives in to the way the water engulfs him, like it’s calming him down. His shoulders sag down, looking completely exhausted.

"I'm so tired, H," he says, barely above a whisper. "Not sad, not... not spiraling. Just so fucking tired."

"I know," Harry murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck. "I've got you."

And he does.

He helps Louis stand again, wraps them both in towels after, dries Louis's hair with the gentleness of someone who's done this before, who wants to.

They don't talk much more that night.

Just curl into bed, skin warm and clean, Harry's hand resting over Louis's heart as he drifts off, breathing steady for the first time in days.

Chapter 34: Chapter 32.2 - bonus (cake)

That same night, back at Calum's apartment, Luke's still on the couch, where Calum left him to walk Louis and Harry to the door.

He hasn't moved much.

The silence hums around him — not cold, not quite. Just charged. Waiting.

Calum leans against the doorway, watching him. "You didn't leave."

Luke looks up slowly, like he's been pulled out of his own head. "You asked me to stay."

Calum swallows, mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah. I did."

Luke sits up straighter, legs spread, hands between his knees. He looks like he wants to say something and doesn't know how. Or maybe he's said too much already.

"You're right," he says finally. "About all of it. I'm shit at showing up the way people need me to. But I'm trying to be better. With you, especially."

Calum crosses the room slowly, stopping just short of touching. "Why now?"

Luke's voice is soft. "Because I think if I don't stop running, I'm gonna lose you."

Calum blinks, caught off guard by the honesty. His chest tightens.

"You already lost me once," Calum says. Not cruel — just a fact.

"I know." Luke's voice cracks. "I'm asking for a second chance."

There's a beat. Then Calum leans down, one knee on the couch, hands bracing on either side of Luke's legs.

He's so close their foreheads almost touch.

"I'm not asking you to promise anything," Calum says, low. "But I need you to mean it this time. I can not fucking feel like that ever again."

Luke nods. "I do."

Calum searches his eyes. Then, after a second, he leans in.

The kiss isn't explosive — it's careful. A test. A question.

Luke answers by leaning up into it, hand finding Calum's jaw, thumb brushing softly beneath his cheekbone. And Calum—Calum lets himself melt into it for a moment, tension draining from his shoulders.

When they part, Calum rests his forehead against Luke's.

"You're a mess," he whispers.

"So are you," Luke breathes back.

They laugh, quiet, shared, a little broken. But it's real.

And maybe that's enough for tonight.

The kiss still lingers, warm between them, when Calum shifts and sits fully on the couch beside Luke. Their knees touch.

Luke leans back, resting his head against the wall. His fingers hover for a moment before finding Calum's again — not tightly, not desperate. Just... there.

"I didn't think you'd let me stay," Luke says, his voice quiet now, calmer.

Calum doesn't look at him, eyes fixed somewhere across the room. "I didn't think I would either."

Luke nods like he understands. Maybe he does.

The silence feels different now — not stiff, but weighty. Important. Calum exhales slowly, leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"I was so mad at you," he says. "You didn't even look back when I asked you to come home with me that night."

Luke swallows, guilt flooding in. "I know. I thought if I stayed away, it wouldn't matter as much. That if I didn't touch it, I couldn't ruin it."

Calum lets out a bitter, soft laugh. "So instead, you left it to rot."

Luke looks over at him, and there's a quiet devastation in his expression. "I didn't mean to."

Calum turns to face him, leaning in close again. "Then mean it now. If you're staying, Luke, stay. Don't make me guess again."

Luke nods slowly, reaches up to touch Calum's jaw again, thumb tracing along his cheek like he's still memorizing the angles. "Okay," he whispers. "I'm staying."

Calum's breath shudders a little as he lets it out. "Okay."

There's a pause, and then Luke leans back into the couch, arm slung over Calum's shoulders. They sit like that for a while, tangled and silent, not saying another word.

But for once, the quiet doesn't feel like a wall.

It feels like a beginning.

"I really hate how I handle things sometimes." Calum says, picking at his fingernails. "I felt hurt and wanted to let you feel that. And in the process I stupidly hurt Harry and Louis as well."

Luke just looks at him, as a silent nudge to continue talking.

"I fucking hate it. Harry and me are alright now, I think. But the fuck do I always mess shit up so bad."

Luke shakes his head, "Feelings are hard to decipher sometime, making it not easy to understand why we are doing what we're doing."

Calum half asses grins, "Okay mr Educated."

Luke just shrugs, "Not necessarily educated, just feel the same way. I hate how I treated you."

-

A moment later Calum stands at the sink, rinsing out the last glass, drying it slowly like it gives him something to focus on. His shoulders are tense. His jaw tight.

Luke leans in the doorway, arms folded, eyes fixed on him.

"You're quiet," Luke says. "Tell me what's on your mind?"

Calum shrugs without looking over. "Trying to figure out if I'm about to do something really fucking dumb."

Luke swallows. Takes a slow step forward. "Then let me say it first."

Calum looks up, wary. "Say what?"

"That I'm actually fucking sorry," Luke says, voice rough but steady. "For not being there when you needed me. For pulling away when I shouldn't have. For showing up too late."

The silence stretches, but Calum's gaze doesn't harden. He just watches, lips pressed into a tight line.

Luke steps closer. He lifts a hand, brushing his fingers barely against Calum's. "And I'm not saying this because I want something. I just— You deserve to hear it. I messed up. I keep messing up."

Calum's hand twitches beneath his. "You did."

"I know."

"But I still want you," Calum says, and it comes out quiet, like he's mad at himself for admitting it. "Even if I shouldn't."

Luke's breath catches. His hand closes gently around Calum's fingers. "Then I'll stay."

That's it.

That's the moment.

Not a kiss — not at first. Just that breathless stillness between them, charged and fragile.

Calum drops the tea towel. His fingers tighten around Luke's like he's giving in before he can think his way out of it.

When Luke finally kisses him, it's slow. Careful. The kind of kiss that's laced with everything they didn't say when they should have. Calum makes a sound low in his throat, like it catches him off guard.

Luke backs him toward the bedroom, step by step, like he's still not sure this is real — only sure that he doesn't want it to end.

Clothes come off piece by piece, not frantic, but reverent.

Luke kisses down Calum's throat, across his chest, along skin he's memorized before but is only just now touching like it matters.

Calum isn't gentle — but he's present. He grips tightly onto Luke's waist like he needs to be sure of what's in front of him. He pushes his fingers into the skin of his hips, not caring if it'll leave marks.

There's no teasing. No jokes.

Just the quiet, aching sound of breath and want.

Calum doesn't know how to say I missed you without choking on it, so he says it with his touch. With the way he pulls Luke closer after. With the way he doesn't roll away.

Luke doesn't speak either. He just presses his forehead to Calum's collarbone, hands spread across his chest like he's afraid Calum might disappear.

And Calum — even with the hurt still curled somewhere deep in his chest — lets himself hold Luke in return.

Lets himself want again, even if it's foolish.

Even if it might hurt tomorrow.

Just for tonight.

-

The light filters in slowly, pale gold slipping through the sheer curtains, casting soft lines across the tangle of limbs on Calum's bed.

Luke shifts first. A small breath, a twitch of fingers against Calum's bare chest, then stillness again.

Calum's eyes are already open.

He hadn't really slept.

Not fully.

Not after Luke's fingers curled in his shirt last night, not after the way Luke kissed him like it was the first time and the last. Not after the clothes came off in a blur, fast and breathless and desperate.

And not after, either — when it got quiet again, when their bodies had calmed but Calum's mind hadn't.

He lies there now, heart aching in a way he can't quite name. Luke's head is tucked under his chin, breath warm against his collarbone. Their legs are still tangled, like neither of them had wanted to let go in the middle of the night.

And maybe that's the problem.

Calum swallows thickly and lets his eyes drift to the ceiling. Everything in him wanted last night.

Needed it, even. The closeness. The touch.

The feeling of being wanted by someone he'd been aching for for months.

But now...

Now he's not sure if it was a reunion or a relapse.

Luke sighs quietly in his sleep, arm tightening just a little around Calum's waist. He fits there too well — and Calum's body answers automatically, sinking into it, even as his chest twists.

He's never known how to protect himself from Luke.

That's the cruel part of all of this. The worst part.

That even now — after all the missteps, the silence, the ways Luke pulled away when Calum needed him most — he still wants him.

Still lets himself be pulled back in.

Last night had been soft. Sweet.

Not just need, but care.

Luke had held him after, whispered things into his skin like promises. He'd kissed him slowly, over and over, like he was trying to apologize without using the word.

And Calum had let him.

Because it felt so good to be chosen again.

But lying here now, in the pale hush of morning, Calum wonders if he's let his heart open too quickly. Again.

If this is the start of something new... or just a familiar pattern wearing a softer disguise.

Luke stirs again, this time lifting his head. His voice is rough with sleep when he says, "You're awake."

Calum hums. "Didn't sleep much."

Luke frowns, blinking slowly. "Why?"

Calum hesitates. Then shrugs, eyes on the ceiling again. "Thinking."

Luke rests his head back down, cheek to Calum's chest. "About last night?"

There's no point lying. "Yeah."

Luke's quiet for a long beat. His fingers press lightly against Calum's ribs, a rhythm with no pattern. "Was it a mistake?"

Calum closes his eyes. "I don't know."

Luke nods like he understands. Like he's asking himself the same question.

"I didn't mean to mess things up again," Luke says quietly. "I just... I missed you. And you were right there."

Calum lets out a slow, tired breath. "Of course I was right here. I missed you too. That's the fucking problem."

Luke shifts up onto one elbow, eyes searching Calum's face. "We don't have to define it right now."

Calum finally looks at him. "But we can't pretend it didn't mean anything either."

Luke nods slowly. "No pretending."

Calum studies him for a moment — the way Luke's hair is falling into his eyes, the vulnerability carved into the line of his mouth. He looks younger like this. Softer. And still too dangerous.

"I'm scared I'll let you in," Calum says quietly, "and you'll walk away again."

"I'm scared I'll fuck it up," Luke whispers.

They lie in silence again, this time eye to eye.

Not fixed. Not even close.

But there's something about the way Luke leans in to press a kiss to Calum's temple, barely there, like he's asking permission to try.

Calum doesn't pull away.

Maybe it's not an answer.

But it's not a no.

Chapter 35: Chapter 33

"Ugh, I hate running in such clammy weather." Stella pants, as they're making their way through the park together.

It's been so cloudy and muggy the whole time today, there's for sure going to be a thunderstorm later tonight.

Louis grimaces, he feels sweaty from top to bottom. He could swear he just felt a droplet of sweat roll down his ass crack.

Stella takes a sip from her water bottle and extends it to Louis, "Here dumbass."

Louis rolls his eyes but gratefully accepts the bottle. Of course he forgot his own, when he rushed out the apartment tonight to go on their run.

He'd been on such a high since yesterday night, he completely forgot the time.

Louis wipes the sweat dripping from his forehead with the back of his hand, each breath coming heavy and uneven. Stella, a few strides ahead, glances back and grins, beads of sweat tracing lines down her flushed cheeks.

"This heat is fucking brutal," Louis pants, the thick, muggy air sticking to his skin like a wet blanket. Every step feels heavier, every breath harder to catch.

Stella slows just a bit, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm melting into the ground out here."

The rhythmic pounding of their shoes on the cracked pavement is the only sound besides their labored breathing. The park, usually so refreshing, now feels like a sauna—sticky, suffocating, relentless.

Gotta love British June's don't we?

Louis glances over his shoulder again, his shirt clinging to his back, soaked through with sweat. "Maybe we should've picked an earlier time... or a day that there's no thunder on the forecast."

Stella nods, her breath coming in short bursts. "Well would've been smart."

They push on, their feet pounding in sync with the steady rhythm of their breathing. A breeze finally stirs the leaves above, a brief relief that does little to cool the sticky heat pressing down on them.

"Last lap," Louis mutters, sweat dripping into his eyes, stinging but ignored.

Stella gives a tired but determined smile. "Then we're done. Ice cream after? And your story please."

Louis laughs, the sound rough and breathy. "Deal."

He told her that he needed to tell her something but would do so after the run, he might or might not have said it on purpose before the run.. As he knows how curious Stella can get.

They pick up their pace, sweat pouring, lungs burning, but the thought of that cold treat keeps them going.

They pass 'their' bench and both give a longing look towards it. Louis extends his hand like he's trying to grasp it from afar.

"Soon ." Stella laughs, finally seeing in how stupid they are being right now. As if they'll die from this one run. But it sure feels like it.

As they finally finish the last lap, they start walking to cool down a little.

Finally being able to speak without panting after every word, Stella starts prying.

"So Louis." She starts, stopping just for a moment to refill her bottle at the water fountain. "What's up?"

Louis hides his grin a little, "You would like to know, wouldn't you?"

"Goood fucking lord, just tell me Lou. What is going on?" Stella groans, "It's about you and Harry, ain't it?"

Louis' face lights up the moment she mentions his boyfriend.

"You mean my boyfriend?" He tries to surpress his smile, but of course, fails miserably at that. He's just so out of this world happy that he can call Harry his boyfriend.

"What did you just say?!" Stella is in front of him in no time, stopping him from walking by gripping both his upper arms. She starts shaking him when he doesn't reply fast enough. "Well?"

Louis laughs, this girl. "I asked if you were talking about my boyfriend."

Stella squeals and twirls them around. "No fucking way? C'mon Lou tell me more."

Louis nods quickly, "Yeah yeah, but let's do it over ice cream."

They walk side by side out of the park, sneakers squelching slightly from the soaked socks in their shoes.

The air hangs even heavier now, clouds darker and thick overhead. The first distant rumble of thunder rolls through the sky.

Nature is screaming for some rain, the muggy air is begging for its tension to be released.

By the time they reach their usual ice cream spot, Louis feels like he's steamed from the inside out.

They settle onto a bench outside, both still catching their breath a bit as they dig into their cones, Louis with salted caramel, Stella with mint chocolate chip.

"Alright," Stella says through a mouthful of cold, minty heaven, "spill it. Now."

Louis bites into his ice cream a little too hard and winces. Still, the grin creeping across his face doesn't fade. He sets his cone down on its napkin. "Okay. So... yesterday was... I don't know. Harry and I were supposed to have the whole day together but I actually almost forgot that you and I had plans already."

Stella nods, just listening.

"So Harry wasn't too pleased with that, and I, ofcourse felt like shit over it. But he actually had enjoyed coming with us, and had had a nice time at Calums as well. They talked about everything by the way, and they're okay now, luckily."

Louis pauses a second before continuing. "After you left with Zayn, we cleaned up a bit at Calums and we saw the friction and frays between him and Luke. As you definitely must've seen as well yesterday."

Stella nods in agreement, her and Zayn had talked about it as well together.

"I don't know but I guess that did trigger us a little bit. Made us think about us. We hadn't even talked about it but I dont know.." Louis trails off, "We just both felt it. When we went outside we held hands for the first time. Harry then told me that I hadn't denied being his boyfriend when you had thanked him for letting you guys steal me for a bit."

Stella pops her lips, "Yeah I remember him looking a bit shocked. I was just joking."

Louis nods, "I know, but to be honest it felt okay. But okay, after we left Calum's, he told me that I didn't deny it. And then we kissed in the cab ride back."

Stella grins, "Naughty."

Louis playfully kicks her leg as he quickly takes another bite of the ice cream, it being already so soft and half melted. "Damn right. But okay, to continue.. Back home everything felt off. I don't even know how or what or why. But one thing led to another and we ended up curled together on the couch. Harry asked me if I had been real with being okay with the calling him my boyfriend thing and I said yes, if he wanted to. Turns out he wanted to." He pauses, fidgeting with the napkin, "So, we decided we're gonna actually do this. Be together. Officially. Boyfriends."

Stella gasps, loud and dramatic. "I knew it! Oh my god, I'm so happy for you guys!"

Louis blushes, eyes dropping to his lap for a second. "And then... well, we stayed in the rest of the night."

Stella raises her eyebrows knowingly. "Uh-huh. That sounds like a code."

Louis gives her a half-hearted glare, but there's no real bite in it. "Yeah well." He starts eating his icecream again, seemingly unbothered as hell.

Stella shakes her head, taking a bite out of her cone. "Nuh-uh. There's no way that this is the end of the story, your eyes tell me differently mate."

Louis dramatically sighs, he really loves having such a emotional intelligent friend who can read everything on his face.. Just kidding.

"Well?" Stella nudges him, clearly expecting something to come out of Louis mouth and quick.

Louis glances around quickly to make sure there's no one around to listen in on it. "Okay okay."

He plays with his napkin as he lets the words roll of his tongue, "Uh- So he went down on me."

Stella's eyes widen, eyebrows nearly in her hair. "My goodness Lou. And you were just gonna hold that and not tell me? How was it?"

Louis groans, "Yeah I was gonna hold that back because I knew you'd want to know every detail. Next time I'll film it yeah?"

She lets out a light, breezy laugh. "Next time, okay."

Louis rolls his eyes, if it was up to him, the next time can't come soon enough.

"It was fucking amazing though." Louis finally decides on answering. "He made it really special. Like... slow, sweet. We took our time. It wasn't just like a quickie or something. It felt—" he pauses, suddenly unsure how to phrase it, "—like something we'd both been waiting for."

"Okay, yeah." Stella nods, "Sounds beautiful."

"It really was." Louis smiles, "And he was so fucking hot though." He lowers his voice, maybe scared someone will hear. "He went down on me and my lord, it felt so fucking good."

Stella puts her hand over her wide open mouth, "No way."

"Yes way." Louis laughs, the memories of the night before vividly playing before his eyes. "I was so completely out of it after he made me finish, he took me to shower together and he washed my hair and stuff."

Stella melts, nearly dropping her cone. "Okay, I'm not gonna lie, that's actually so romantic. I was expecting something way messier and full of panic and dumb decisions."

Louis chuckles, that was exactly what he had expected as well. "There was panic. Inside my brain was like a rave of anxiety. But Harry was calm through all of it. Gentle. Like he meant it."

Stella leans back, a genuine smile on her face. "Well shit, Lou. I think I'm gonna cry. You're glowing, man."

Louis shrugs, biting back the dopey grin that refuses to leave his face. "I feel like I'm glowing."

Another rumble of thunder echoes, louder now. Stella glances up at the sky. "Okay, glowing or not, we better head back before we get electrocuted."

Louis grabs his cone and stands. "Worth it though. Also just come to mine, you can wait for the storm there."

"Boyfriend status and emotional intimacy achieved," Stella says in a mock-epic tone as they start walking towards Louis' building, "now all that's left is surviving the storm."

Louis looks up, then over at her. "Nah. Storms I can handle."

"Yeah.. right." She answers distractedly, now busy typing on her phone. "I texted Zayn to come pick me up at yours, we're doing something later tonight."

By the time they're halfway home, the sky finally cracks open. Not with polite sprinkles, but a full-on, curtain-of-water, thunder-and-lightning kind of downpour.

"Shit!" Stella yells, as they both break into a half-run, half-laughing sprint down the street.

Louis holds his ice cream like a wounded soldier, shielding it with his body before finally giving up and tossing the soggy cone in a trash bin. "Why does it have to rain the second we actually sit down?!"

"Because the universe is dramatic and has perfect timing," Stella shouts over the thunder.

They reach Louis' building soaked to the bone, water squishing out of their sneakers with every step as they climb the stairs. Louis fumbles with the keys, dripping water all over the doormat.

When they finally stumble into the apartment, breathless and drenched, the place feels like heaven—warm, quiet, and filled with the faint scent of one of Harry's candles.

Stella peels her wet shirt off, the second the door shuts. "Bathroom. Now. Don't look at me."

Louis snorts. "As if you've got anything I haven't seen before. Towels are in the cabinet."

She just flips him off before she disappears, leaving wet footprints across the floor.

Louis strips off his shirt and socks and digs in the closet for a hoodie and some shorts for her.

By the time he sets them on the bathroom counter, she's already halfway into the shower, singing off-key and cursing the humidity.

He hears the front door open a few minutes later, soft, careful footsteps followed by the sound of keys hitting the bowl by the entrance.

"Babe?" Harry's voice floats in from the hallway. "Did you two melt in the street?"

Louis grins—the nickname creating butterflies in his stomach, buzzing and darting around—walking out of his room in dry clothes. "We got hit by the apocalypse instead."

Harry appears, umbrella still dripping in his hand. He takes one look at Louis's soaked hair and gives a quiet laugh. "You look like a wet cat."

"Don't start." Louis walks over and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. "Stella's in the shower."

"Oh?" Harry smirks. "Should I be concerned?"

Before Louis can answer, the bathroom door swings open and Stella steps out in Louis's hoodie and basketball shorts, towel-drying her hair like she's lived there for years.

"I heard that!" she calls out. "And no, your boyfriend's loyalty is intact."

"Damn right it is," Louis mutters with a small smile.

Right then, there's a knock at the door.

Stella straightens up instantly. "That's Zayn."

Louis goes to open it and there he is—Zayn, dressed like he's just stepped out of a perfume ad. Fitted black jeans, dark button-up, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, and a crooked little smirk when he sees Stella in Louis's clothes.

"Well," Zayn says, eyebrows raised as he whistles through his teeth, "This is a look."

"Shut up, it's raining biblical out there." Stella walks up to him to give him a quick kiss. "Give me five minutes to finish de-frizzing and I'll be ready."

Zayn gives a mock bow. "Take your time, godess humidity."

As she heads back to the bathroom, Louis flops onto the couch, small droplets flying everywhere from his wet hair.

Harry sits beside him, leaning close.

Zayn sits down opposite of them, grabbing a stray magazine while eyeing their closeness. "What's up guys?"

Louis smiles, "Nothing much really, you two going out?"

Zayn nods, a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, we're going out."

Classic Zayn. Never speaking on things more than minimally needed.

Harry nods, "Sounds fun."

"You don't even know what they're doing, so how do you know its fun?" Louis asks, dumbfounded.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Them going out is the fun part, I couldn't care less about what they're actually doing."

"Damn straight." Zayn mutters while looking through the magazine. Seemingly completely preoccupied with it.

"Hey," Harry then murmurs in Louis ear, "glad you told her?"

Louis smiles, turning his head just enough to press his temple against Harry's shoulder. "Yeah. It felt good."

Harry wraps an arm around him, and they sit there for a quiet moment as thunder rumbles again in the distance—calm inside, storm outside, everything in its place.

-

Once the front door clicks shut behind Stella and Zayn, the apartment falls into a calm, cozy silence. The rain drums steadily against the windows now, softer, more rhythmic than before. The kind of sound that makes you want to slow down and stay in.

Louis leans back against the couch with a long exhale, his eyes following the raindrops racing each other down the glass. Harry's still beside him, warm and close, his fingers lazily tracing circles along Louis's arm.

"You good?" Harry asks, his voice low and gentle, like it's meant just for this space.

Louis nods, eyes half-lidded. "Mm-hm. Tired in a good way. Sweaty. Damp. Emotionally exposed."

Harry chuckles. "Classic post-run, post-coming-out-to-your-best-friend vibes."

Louis shifts to face him more fully. "She was excited. Like, screaming excited. Think I've lost some hearing."

"She's always been our biggest fan, and she's not scared to tell one of us off if we're being stupid either." Harry says with a small smile. "And for the record, I'm glad we said it out loud. To someone. Makes it feel more real."

Louis watches him for a second. "It is real."

Harry's expression softens. "Yeah, I know. Just... sometimes I think we're both waiting for something to go wrong."

"Old habits," Louis murmurs, reaching out to brush a lock of hair off Harry's forehead. "But this time, it's different. You're different. We're different."

They sit in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, the sounds of the storm filling the quiet between them.

Then Harry leans in and kisses him. It's slow, deep, like he's trying to say everything without speaking. Louis melts into it, fingers curling around the hem of Harry's sweater, grounding himself in the warmth.

When they part, Harry rests his forehead against Louis's. A smile plays on his lips as he starts talking. "I love your taste, but this time it's a little too salty." Clearly meaning his sweaty skin.

"Fuck off man." Louis groans, but a dark red creeps up his neck as he remembers certain events from yesterday night with Harry's innuendo to it.

He sits up straight now, "Do you- Uh, do you want to come shower with me?"

Harry's smile deepens, eyes darkening with something quiet and intense. "Yeah," he breathes, voice low and warm. "Fuck yeah, I want that."

Louis stands up slowly, the air thick with heat and the faint scent of rain still clinging to his skin. He reaches for Harry's hand, their fingers entwining, the simple touch electric. Warm, steady, grounding.

They move toward the bathroom, each step measured but charged with something unspoken.

The soft hiss of the shower greets them, steam curling around the room like a whispered promise.

There's a quickness, an eagerness to the speed with which there's their clothes piling up on the floor.

Louis adjusts the water, making sure it's perfectly warm—just enough to chase away the lingering sweat and fatigue. Harry watches him, eyes flickering over his damp skin, the droplets glistening like tiny jewels.

"You always take care of the details," Harry murmurs, stepping closer, letting the heat of his body brush against Louis's side.

Louis feels it—the brush of bare skin, the subtle weight of Harry leaning in. His fingers find Harry's arm, tracing a slow path from wrist to elbow, memorizing the smooth warmth beneath his touch.

Harry's breath catches softly as Louis's hand lingers, and Louis's pulse quickens, a quiet thrill humming under his skin. Their eyes lock, unspoken words swirling between them like the steam in the air.

Without breaking the gaze, Harry's hands slide around Louis's waist, fingers gentle but firm, pulling him just a little closer. Louis leans in, his cheek brushing against Harry's, heart beating a steady rhythm against the heat of his chest.

The water flows over them, warm and steady, masking the quiet sighs and soft touches exchanged between them. The storm outside fades into the background, swallowed by the intimate bubble they've created—two bodies pressed close, every sense heightened, every moment stretched deliciously slow.

Harry's lips brush along Louis's jaw, feather-light, sending a shiver down his spine. Louis tilts his head, offering more, his own hands weaving through Harry's damp hair, pulling him closer in a silent invitation.

No rush. No need for words.

Just the quiet, tender charge of connection—soft touches, heated breaths, and the shared promise of what might come next.

Chapter 36: Chapter 34

Louis is dead asleep, limbs tangled in warm sheets, body still humming from the night before.

The scent of Harry's skin lingers on the pillow beside him, faint and comforting. Outside, the storm has passed, leaving behind that damp, glowing silence that only follows after a hard rain.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

A sharp vibration cuts through the stillness, dragging Louis toward consciousness. His brows furrow. The buzzing continues—persistent. Somewhere across the room, his phone rattles loudly on the nightstand.

Another buzz. Then another.

And then Harry nudges him, followed with a groggy: "Louis. Answer your fucking phone."

Louis jerks upright immediately.

"Fuck. No. No no noooo."

His heart's already pounding as he grabs his phone and squints at the screen.

There's multiple texts from his work buddy Mark. The latest just a second ago.

M. Where are you???? We were due here 30 MINUTES AGO.

They were supposed to be at the site for their new project at 6.30am today. Well, it's fucking 7 already.

"Fuuuuck." He groans as he throws the blanket off like it personally betrayed him, nearly falling off the bed in the process. The sudden movement make Harry fully awake beside him.

"What—what's going on?" Harry mumbles, blinking groggily, curls a mess, voice rough.

"I overslept," Louis hisses, hopping on one foot while trying to yank his jeans up. "I was supposed to be at the site thirty goddamn minutes ago—Mark's gonna kill me—fuck, where's my shoe?!"

Harry sits up, frowning, already alert. "Wait, you did set your alarm, right? At least I thought-"

"Yeah, me too!" Louis calls out, half-panicked, half-laughing in disbelief at his own idiocy. He finally finds his other shoe under the bed, grabbing a tshirt from the chair and trying to stuff his phone into the pocket at the same time. It promptly falls out.

"Why didn't my alarm go off?!"

Harry checks his own phone but there’s no alarm set either. "Don't know."

Louis groans, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna walk in stressed, underdressed, and looking like I've been railed all night. I'm so screwed."

Harry raises a brow. "Well... you have been."

Louis throws a random sock at his face. "Not the time, Styles."

But there's a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, even as he's frantically tying his laces.

Harry gets up, moving to help, grabbing Louis's work bag from where it landed by the door last night. "You want me to text and say you're on your way?"

Louis pauses for half a second, grateful and he hands over his phone. "Can you? Just—say traffic or something. And that I'm alive."

Harry's already typing. "On it."

Louis jogs to the bathroom, runs his hand through his hair in front of the mirror, curses under his breath, brushes his teeth with god speed and splashes water on his face in a hopeless attempt to look less post-coital and panicked.

By the time he rushes back into the room, Harry's standing there with the bag, Louis' phone and a protein bar in hand.

"You're my actual hero," Louis mutters, grabbing it all with a groan.

"You owe me a proper breakfast soon," Harry smirks, leaning in for a fast kiss. "Also... you left your work hoodie in the bathroom."

"Then it's a no hoodie day." Louis snatches his keys from the hook before he pauses in the doorway, looks back at Harry, who's still rumpled and shirtless in the golden morning light.

His heart calms, just for a second.

"Love you," he says, rushed but sure.

Harry's eyes soften immediately. "Love you too. Now go."

Louis bolts.

The apartment falls still again once the door slams shut.

Harry exhales a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, walks over to his bedroom and flops back onto the bed, arm flung over his eyes, the sheets still warm from where Louis had been curled in just minutes ago.

The silence wraps around him like a second skin—soft, golden, and just a little too heavy.

He lets himself stay there for a few long beats, letting the quiet settle and stretch.

His mind wanders.

To last night. To Louis's flushed cheeks and whispered I want to, and the way his voice had caught, hopeful, nervous, wanting.

How Harry had stilled, kissed him slow, and murmured not yet, not tonight, not because he didn't want to—fuck, he did—but because it felt too big, too soon to want something like that from Louis.

Because Louis had already given him everything in that moment. Had trusted him with so much.

And Harry wanted to hold that with care.

So instead, he'd pulled him closer. Had pressed his lips to every bit of Louis he could reach. Had taken his time, slow and unhurried, just watching him unravel. Giving more than he took. Letting Louis feel safe.

It had been soft. It had been good.

It had made Harry feel like he was living inside something sacred.

He shifts now, pulling the covers tighter around his hips as he finally sits up. The bedsheets are a mess. His skin still smells faintly of Louis, warm cotton and sweat and whatever cheap bodywash he refuses to stop using.

A smile ghosts over his lips.

He climbs out of bed and pads into the kitchen, makes tea absentmindedly, then takes it over to the tiny desk tucked into the corner of his room. It's cluttered with sketches, scraps of paper, a few old art history books, and a half-finished vision board for his final uni submission.

He has a class this afternoon, and now, because he's up already, he better make the most of it and start on his new project.

He clears a space and pulls the materials toward him: scissors, glue stick, that old pile of magazines he thrifted last week. He starts sorting—pages of black-and-white portraits, textures, cityscapes, poems clipped from the margins of forgotten essays. A collage this time. Something tactile. Messy and intentional.

Harry presses a torn strip of sky into place, layers it with the edge of a Polaroid photo—blurred lights over water. He doesn't plan too much. Just lets the instinct take over.

As he builds, his mind keeps circling back to Louis.

To how his voice cracks when he's laughing too hard.

To how he says Harry's name in that particular way when he's sleepy or teasing or just too full of feeling.

To when he's gasping for breath and grasping the sheets when Harry pleases him..

To how he looked this morning—panicked, half-dressed, but still managing to grin as he fumbled for his shoes.

Harry grabs another piece—a close-up of someone's hand reaching—and pastes it beside a splash of watercolor that reminds him of the storm from last night.

He sits back, mug in hand, staring at what he's made so far.

There's no clear subject, but it feels like something. Like breath held between moments. Like waiting for the next step.

His phone buzzes once beside him.

L. Made it. Barely. You're a lifesaver.

Then it buzzes again.

L. Also... that thing you said last night, about not rushing—thank you. I didn't know I needed to hear it, but I did. I rly appreciate it.

Harry smiles down at the screen, thumbs hovering for a second before he types back:

H. Always. We're in no rush. I'm exactly where I want to be.

He sets the phone down and turns back to the collage, heart quiet and full.

-

By noon Harry pulls on a loose-knit jumper and jeans, tosses his sketchbook and the half-finished collage into his bag, and slips out of the apartment with his headphones in.

The streets still glisten from the early storm, all puddles and sun flares bouncing off bus windows.

The city feels oddly peaceful today.

His lecture is long, a blur of slides and discussion about mixed-media composition and how visual storytelling can hold emotion in abstract form. Harry takes notes, doodles in the margins. Every now and then he finds himself sketching a familiar jawline, the curve of someone's hands. He doesn't stop himself.

After class, he wanders to the cafe just off campus—the one with the half-dead plant in the window and indie music always playing just a tad too softly.

Zayn's already there, sitting by the window with a cigarette tucked behind his ear (even though it's banned inside) and Calum beside him, sipping a smoothie he clearly regrets ordering.

"Look who showed up dressed like a Pinterest board," Zayn says as Harry walks in.

Harry shrugs off his coat. "Can't help it if I'm aesthetically aware."

"You look like a boy who collages for emotional regulation," Calum adds, running a hair through his hair.

"Because I am," Harry says, deadpan, sliding into the seat across from them.

Zayn grins lazily. "That's the vibe, then?"

Harry pulls out his sketchbook and sets it on the table, flipping to the page with the start of his new collage. "Working on this for my final. Still messy."

Zayn leans forward, scanning the overlapping textures and ink-stained edges with a quiet hum. "Looks like a dream you almost forget when you wake up."

Harry gives him a look. "That's oddly poetic for someone who forgot how to do laundry for a month."

"Don't shame me," Zayn replies, unfazed. "I live in crisis."

Calum leans over to peek at the piece, then sips his drink. He opens his mouth to say something but lets it marinate on his tongue a little. "So. You and Louis, huh?"

Harry stills for a beat. His thumb brushes against the corner of the page. "Yeah. Guess it's not a secret anymore."

"Wasn't much of one to begin with," Zayn says, eyes warm. "But it's good. He seems... better."

"Happy," Calum adds.

Harry lets that sit for a second. He thinks of the way Louis had grinned even while panicking this morning, of the way he'd said love you like it wasn't terrifying to mean it.

"He is," Harry says quietly. "I am, too."

Zayn gives a small nod, then gestures for Harry's pen. "Mind if I tag your sketchbook?"

Harry hands it over.

Zayn doodles something tiny in the bottom margin of the collage page—some kind of flower with cigarette smoke curling from it. Calum steals the pen after and draws a wonky smiley face with its tongue sticking out, that immediately ruins the aesthetic.

"Great," Harry mutters. "Now it's cursed."

"It's collaborative," Calum argues. "It adds to the diversity."

Harry rolls his eyes but doesn't flip the page.

He lets it sit there in front of him, all layered images and scratches and secrets only he understands. A small bloom of chaos and comfort and something slowly taking shape.

Zayn flags the server for more coffee.

Calum starts talking about a gig next weekend.

And Harry leans back, content, knowing that whatever comes next, he's building it on something solid.

As they're sitting there in silence, all working on something different, Harry can't help but glance over at Calum more than once.

He's frowning at the screen of his laptop, head bopping a little, fingers drumming on the table as he's clearly focused on something music related.

He looks in his zone. Comfortable.

But thats only until his phone buzzes, and he glances down at the screen.

His jaw tightens just a bit. Zayn looks over, curious. "You gonna get that?"

Calum hesitates, then swipes to answer. He steps out of the booth, phone pressed to his ear.

"Luke, hey," he says, voice casual but low. "Yeah, I'm with the guys."

There's a pause.

"Dinner? Tonight? Yeah, I'll think about it."

Back inside, Zayn nudges Harry quietly. "He doesn't sound great."

Harry frowns. "Something's up between them, but I don't know what."

Outside the glass, Calum's voice lifts, trying to sound casual. "No, it's not weird. I just—didn't expect you to call."

Harry and Zayn share a glance before deciding to stop listening in and both get to work again.

A bit later Calum returns to the table, sitting down but looking... different. A little heavier.

"What's going on?" Zayn asks, immediately.

Calum groans as he puts his hands on his face, dragging them down slowly, pulling the skin taut. "Luke asked if I wanted to go get dinner with him."

Zayn nods, "You don't sounds too sure about that?"

Calum exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. He hesitates for a second but before he can really think about it, he blurts out the words. "Luke slept with someone else while we were on a break."

The words hang between them, soft but sharp.

Zayn blinks, caught off guard. "Wait—what? When?"

"During the time we weren't a thing anymore, lately," Calum says. "It was supposed to be nothing—just a rebound. But it still hurts."

Harry's eyebrows knit together. "You haven't told us."

Calum shrugs, voice low. "I wasn't sure how to bring it up. I guess I was waiting to see if it even mattered. We were not really in a relationship so it's not like he cheated but I don't know. It fucks me up."

Zayn's expression softens. "That sucks, man."

Calum nods, eyes distant. "Yeah. It's complicated. I'm still figuring out what that means for us... for me."

Harry leans forward, voice gentle. "You okay with talking about it?"

"Trying to be," Calum says. "I just didn't want it to change how you guys see Luke. Or me."

He shifts his body towards Harry, "Also the break was the reason I acted out like that at the movies. I was so fucking frustrated because I still gave a fuck about Luke and I didn't want to. So when the opportunity showed to fuck with both of you, I immediately took it." He runs his hand through his hair, tugging a bit on the ends. "And now I realize it was so fucking selfish and I'm so sorry. I'm the shittiest friend ever."

Harry softly smiles, extending his hand to grab Calums arm. "No you're not. Yes it was shitty, but I understand where you were coming from. And we are good now, remember?"

Calum nods, scrunching his nose a little. "I just hate that I don't know how to handle everything with Luke. Like do I go out with him tonight or not?"

Leaning back in his chair, Zayn clears his throat. "Look mate, I'm not gonna say what you gotta do, but maybe it's a good time to figure out what exactly is the problem you have right now. Because there's clearly hesitation on your part."

"I think- I don't know- Maybe the fact that he wasn't even planning on telling me?" Calum sighs, "So we were in bed, we were kissing and like we almost ended up having, ya know.."

Zayn groans, "Yeah we know, now come to the point."

"And then he proceeds to tell me that he missed me even when he was with her. Like, seriously? My dick was about to be in-"

"Mate." Zayn's eyes widen and he glances around as if to see if no one heard that before putting his hand over Calums mouth, to cut him off. "There are young people here."

Calum rolls his eyes but lowers his voice after, "It just fucks me up. That's all."

Harry nods, thoughtful, his fingers absentmindedly smoothing the edge of a napkin. "That's a lot to carry," he says, voice steady. "Especially when you were already feeling unsure. He didn't give you space to process—just dumped it mid-moment like that."

Zayn leans forward, elbows on the table now. "That's the part that bothers me. Not that it happened, but how he told you. Like, you don't get to say 'I missed you while I was with her' and expect it to land as romantic. That's not closure, that's emotional whiplash."

Calum groans, slumping against the back of his seat. "Exactly. It just made everything confusing again. And I don't know if I'm allowed to be upset, or if I'm just being too sensitive. Because he wants us to be okay again, like it didn't matter?"

"You're allowed," Harry says firmly, meeting his gaze. "It doesn't matter that you were on a break. You're still allowed to feel hurt. Especially when feelings were still there."

Zayn nods in agreement. "If it didn't matter, you wouldn't still be thinking about it. And if Luke wants to rebuild something, he should be able to sit with your hurt without deflecting it."

Calum sighs, rubbing at his temples. "He texted again while I was out there. Said he wants to talk tonight. I haven't replied yet."

"Maybe don't go if it's just to make him feel better," Harry says gently. "Go if you feel ready to say what you need. Not just to smooth it over."

"Yeah," Zayn adds. "You've got nothing to prove. Not to him. And definitely not tonight, if your heart's not in it."

There's a pause, the clatter of cups and distant music filling the air around them.

Calum leans forward again, quieter now. "You guys always make it sound so simple."

Harry smiles. "That's because we're not in it. It's never simple when it's your heart on the line."

Zayn chuckles. "Yeah, if it were my ex calling, I'd probably be under a table somewhere, trying not to cry while throwing a Molotov cocktail."

Calum actually laughs at that—short and sharp and real.

"Thanks, assholes," he says, but his voice is lighter now, his shoulders a little less tense.

Harry bumps his foot under the table. "Whatever you decide, we've got your back. Just promise you won't go quiet if it gets heavy again."

Calum nods. "Promise."

They sit there in the soft hum of the café, the three of them in their own little orbit, their drinks half-empty, their lives messy but held in safe hands—for now.

And for Calum, even if things with Luke are still foggy, this moment feels like something solid.

Like he's not entirely lost after all.

As the conversation settles, Harry leans back in his chair, watching Calum and Zayn trade quiet jokes again, the tension from earlier already starting to thin. It's moments like this—ordinary but grounded—that make him feel strangely steady. Like the world could be spinning wildly outside the window, but in here, they're anchored.

Still, his mind wanders.

His phone buzzes faintly in his pocket. He pulls it out: a photo from Louis. A half-blurry shot of a coffee cup, a crooked high-vis vest sleeve, and a caption that just says:

L. Tell me again why I choose this life?

Harry smiles to himself, thumb hovering over the keyboard for a second before typing back:

H. Because you're good at it. And that vest looks good on you.

He pockets the phone again, but the afterglow of the message stays with him. His smile fades slowly into something more reflective. His eyes drift toward the front window of the café, where the street is sunlit and slick, scattered with puddles.

Zayn notices. "You're going to start romanticizing the puddles again, aren't you?"

Harry huffs out a soft laugh. "Maybe."

Calum sips from his drink, watching him. "You good? You've been kind of dreamy since you walked in."

Harry shrugs. "Yeah. Just... a lot on my mind. Mostly good, though."

Zayn arches an eyebrow. "Like Louis kind of good?"

Harry doesn't answer right away. He's still thinking about last night—how Louis had looked up at him, eyes wide and honest, whispering, I want to... if you do, and the way something in Harry had wanted to say yes, to let go and fall.

But he didn't.

Not yet.

Because he wanted Louis to be absolutely sure. Not in a moment blurred by intimacy, or adrenaline, or the heat of the night. But in the calm that followed. In the morning light. When it was real.

"We're... official," Harry says quietly, fingers wrapped around his mug. "Stella called him my boyfriend when we were at lunch, and he didn't deny it. So, I don't know, we talked about it and decided we are going for it."

Zayn's brows lift, but he doesn't say anything right away.

"I mean, we've kind of been heading there for a while," Harry continues. "But we finally said it. Out loud. No ambiguity. No more 'whatever this is.'"

Calum leans forward slightly. "That's a big step."

"It is," Harry says, eyes soft. "And it felt... right. Like we'd already been there, you know? We just hadn't let ourselves name it."

Zayn gives him a long look, then nods. "You looked lighter today. Like someone who finally exhaled."

Harry lets out a quiet laugh. "That's exactly what it feels like. Like I've been holding my breath since we met and now I can finally breathe."

Calum leans back again in his seat, arms crossed loosely. "So you're together. For real. Like... boyfriend-boyfriend?"

Harry grins, small but proud. "Yeah. Boyfriend-boyfriend."

Zayn raises his coffee cup in a mock-toast. "Took you both long enough."

Harry shakes his head, but he's still smiling. "We were scared. Both of us. But he told Stella, and I told you two, and now it's not just ours to carry. It's out there."

There's a beat of silence, the warm kind. Then Zayn says, "Good. That kind of love deserves to be seen."

Harry's heart thuds a little harder in his chest, but in the best way. He nods. "Yeah. I think so too."

He is quiet for a moment before turning to Calum. "Cal?"

Calum, already engulfed in whatever is on his laptop looks up, "Yeah?"

Harry smiles, "You and Luke will figure it out. Trust me."

A small grin makes its way onto Calums face, "Yeah, I hope so."

Harry then reaches into his bag and pulls out the sketchbook again, flipping to the page he'd been working on earlier. The collage now has new layers—bits of text, soft torn edges of faces half-hidden. He runs his finger over one corner like it's still wet.

"It's weird," he says. "I always thought love would feel like fire. But with him? It's more like the tide. It pulls me in, but gently. Completely covering me. All at once and not at all."

Zayn watches him for a moment, then leans back with a satisfied smirk. "You're screwed, man."

Harry snorts. "Yeah. A little."

"But in the best way," Calum adds. "Like, it's the kind of screwed people write songs about."

Harry smiles, eyes still down on the collage. "I think I'm just scared. Because it's real now. And I want to get it right."

"You are gonna get it right," Zayn says simply.

Harry finally looks up again, and the weight in his chest doesn't feel quite so heavy anymore. Just full. Quietly full.

They finish their drinks. Calum starts editing something on his laptop. Zayn draws a cigarette on the side of Harry's notebook. And Harry—he lets the moment stretch, lets the warmth settle in his bones, and lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he's not screwing this up.

Later, he'll go home. Louis will be tired and damp and grumbling about site reports. And Harry will kiss him anyway, slow and sure, and maybe they'll talk about the next time.

But for now, he's content to wait.

Let it unfold.

Let it be real.

Let it last.

-

The sun has already started dipping low when Harry hears the jangle of keys in the lock.

Then the door creaks open, and Louis steps in, fringe flattened under a hood from a hoodie Harry doesn't recognize, cheeks pink from wind, and an unmistakable scowl carved deep into his face. He looks like someone who's had a day.

"Don't even ask," he mutters, kicking his boots off one by one. One misses the mat entirely and thuds against the wall. "I hate Mark. I hate mud. I hate how I now smell like wet concrete and regret."

He really doesn't hate Mark. He doesn't hate mud. He doesn't hate wet concrete.

But he does for now.

Harry closes the book he'd been reading on the couch, smile tugging at his lips. "So... good day then?"

Louis groans, dragging himself into the living room and collapsing face-first into Harry's lap. "Kill me. Or better, just pretend I don't exist for an hour."

Harry runs a hand through Louis's damp hair. "You do realize you're actively laying on me, right?"

"Mmh. Shut up. Your thighs are the only good thing in my life right now."

Harry chuckles, thumb brushing over the back of Louis's neck. "Want me to prepare you a shower?"

Louis groans again, this time a little softer. "I'm too tired to move. Just let me die here."

They sit like that for a minute. Harry's fingers in his hair, Louis's entire body a deadweight against him. It's quiet, peaceful. And then Louis mumbles, voice muffled by Harry's sweater:

"Also. I kept thinking about you all day."

Harry pauses. "Yeah?"

Louis turns his head, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are soft, ringed with the kind of tired that goes deeper than physical. "Yeah. About last night. About how you didn't rush anything."

Harry's hand stills for a second, then resumes its slow rhythm through his hair. "You were already giving me everything. I didn't want more unless you wanted it."

"I did," Louis says honestly. "Still do. But... you were right. Waiting felt better. Less like pressure. More like choice."

Harry leans down and presses a kiss to Louis's temple. "That's all I ever want. For it to be your choice."

Louis breathes out slowly. He shifts, curling more into Harry's lap. "You're kind of ruining all my bad-boy fantasies, you know that?"

Harry smirks. "Guess you'll have to settle for emotional security and good communication."

"Gross," Louis mutters. But he's smiling now, eyes closing.

They stay like that a while longer. Harry puts his book aside, just lets his fingers wander idly across Louis's back, feeling him relax inch by inch. The tension drains from him the way it only does here, in this space, in this quiet.

Eventually, Louis speaks again. "Do we have dinner plans?"

"Only if cereal counts."

"Fuck it," Louis sighs. "Cereal in bed?"

Harry nods. "Cereal in bed."

Louis slowly peels himself off the couch, moving like an old man as he stretches his back. "God, I think I pulled something just existing today."

Harry follows him into the kitchen, opening cabinets and grabbing two bowls, passing one over.

Louis leans against the counter, watching him pour. "You know, I didn't even check my phone all day. That's a first."

Harry glances at him. "Didn't miss anything important."

Louis grins, eyes a little more alive now. "Right answer."

Chapter 37: Chapter 35

Before the alarm has a chance to go off, Louis's eyes snap open. The room is too bright, even in the darkness, stabbing at his temples like a thousand tiny needles. His head throbs with an unbearable pulse, a migraine that's already clawing its way through every nerve ending.

He blinks against the blue dusky light filtering in through the curtains, pressing his palms hard against his forehead, willing the pounding to ease. But it only tightens, a vise squeezing his skull.

He's awake now. Fully awake. And on edge.

Really on edge.

He now realizes that the past few days have all been leading up to this. The random pains and headache droning through his daily life until they burst, like today.

That would explain why he was so damn tired after work yesterday as well.

He hears soft snores next to him from Harry, but they feel like drills going into his head.

His body stiffens, fingers curling into fists as a low growl slips out of his throat. The calm, easy morning he wanted feels miles away. The headache isn't just pain — it's a war inside him, and every noise, every flicker of light, every breath feels like an assault.

Fucking hell. He thought they were getting better lately. Well, he was wrong. This migraine invades him like a fucking bulldozer.

Louis drags himself out of bed with a grimace, moving like a half-conscious shadow. Almost knocking over the empty cereal bowls on his nightstand.

The floor's cold against his bare feet, and it only makes the headache worse. He stalks toward the bathroom, a scowl set deep on his face, grumbling under his breath.

"Fuck," he mutters, harsh and sharp. "Why today of all days?"

In the bathroom mirror, his reflection stares back—pale, pinched, eyes narrowed in pain and irritation. He clenches his jaw, muscles tight, barely holding himself together.

When his phone buzzes with a message, he flinches. The brightness of the screen feels like a slap in his face.

It's Harry, from the room next to him, concerned. He got probably woken up by the amount of things Louis ran into on the way to the bathroom.

H. You need anything? Need to talk?

He types out a quick, clipped reply to Harry before tossing the phone down onto the counter.

L. no tnx

He doesn't want anything and neither does he want to talk about it.

Not yet.

Louis just wants the migraine to stop. And maybe, if he's lucky, for the world to shut the hell up for a while.

Louis moves through the morning like a ghost. Each step measured, careful—not because he's cautious, but because sudden movements threaten to send sharp jolts through his skull. The migraine isn't just pain; it's a storm in his brain that dulls his senses but sharpens his irritability.

At breakfast, he barely touches his cereal, his appetite swallowed whole by the relentless throb behind his eyes. Harry tries to ask if he's okay, but Louis just shrugs, voice rough as he bites out the words. "Am fine."

He's not fine. Of course not.

He's grinding his teeth, jaw clenched tight enough to hurt. His patience thins by the minute, every small noise—a creak in the floor, the hum of the kettle—like a drill buzzing inside his head.

He takes his medication that Harry already put out on the counter, together with a glass of water. He mutters a "Thanks." which he's unsure about if Harry could even hear.

He fumbles with his hoodie for a moment when Harry comes up to him, "Lou?"

Harry's voice is soft, but still coming into Louis' ears like ringing church bells. "Yeah?"

"Text me if you need anything?" A tad of desperation laces Harry's voice, his fingers grasping onto the hem of Louis' hoodie with the same desperation.

Louis scrunches his nose, swallowing. He doesn't deserve Harry being like this when he's all annoyed and snappy and wants to die.

"I will." He says in a small voice before quickly pressing a kiss on Harry's cheek and retreating out the door.

On site, the world becomes a series of blurred shapes and distant sounds. His normally sharp focus is fragmented, slipping through his fingers like sand.

But Louis pushes anyway, determined not to let the migraine win. He grits his teeth, tight-lipped as he handles reports and measurements, trying to shut out the pounding.

Mark's usual banter feels like nails on a chalkboard today, and Louis snaps before he even realizes it.

"Could you fucking keep it down for a second?" Louis growls under his breath, eyes flashing with frustration.

Mark raises his hands in mock surrender, but the damage is done. Louis feels a stab of guilt almost immediately, but the headache makes it hard to care.

By mid-afternoon, Louis is exhausted but refuses to stop. He knows Harry will be waiting, and the last thing he wants is to collapse before then.

He apologizes to Mark, tells him it's the migraine. Mark laughs it off, he's known Louis for so long, it doesn't bother him when he acts out because he's not feeling well.

But it bothered Louis. So he's glad Mark and him are okay.

The work day is long, seemingly endless. Every minute feels like a thousand hours.

When he finally gets home, a little earlier than usual, the weight of the day settles on him like a physical thing. He kicks off his boots, drops his bag in the corner of the kitchen, shoulders hunched, and heads straight to the couch.

Harry's there, of course he's there. He's reading, and looks up when Louis slumps down beside him.

"Don't say anything," Louis mutters, voice rough as he leans his heavy head onto Harry's shoulder. "Just... sit with me. It's finally a little better."

Harry nods, his hand finding its way to Louis' hair immediately. His cold fingers feel surprisingly good against Louis' scalp.

Louis closes his eyes, letting himself rest for a moment, the edge softening just a little.

Tomorrow will be better.

He hopes.

Because right now, he's feeling like someone drove over his neck and he's hanging on by a vein.

"You okay?"

What a dumb question. Of course he is not okay. He's fucking hanging on by a thread.

The thoughts immediately being shadowed over by guilt. He doesn't want to think about Harry that way.

"Yeah. Fine. Just need rest." Louis instead replies, wincing because of the stabs in his skull when he talks.

"You really need to slow down, Lou," Harry says gently. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. Your health is important as well."

Louis flinches, as if Harry's words landed like a punch. He pulls away slightly, jaw clenched. "I'm fine. I said I'm fine."

It's supposed to sound bold but instead it sounds like he's mostly trying to convince himself.

"No, you're not," Harry presses, setting the book aside. "I'm here, Louis. You don't have to carry this alone."

Louis's eyes flash sharp. "You think I want this? You think I'm making a choice to be a wreck? It's not like I'm some fragile mess you can just fix with cuddles."

Wow. Really a low blow Louis.

Harry's brows furrow, hurt flickering in his gaze. "I'm not trying to fix you. I just want to help. But you keep shutting me out."

"That's because you keep pushing," Louis snaps. "Like you don't get that sometimes I just want to be left alone. You don't know what's going on in my head."

Immediately he closes his eyes, he doesn't want to do this but he doesn't know how to stop it.

"I'm trying to help you. But you're pushing me away, like you don't trust me." Harry's voice breaks slightly.

Louis's face tightens, a flicker of something darker flashing behind his eyes.

"Don't. Just don't, Harry."

His voice is low, cracked around the edges like glass under pressure. He doesn't even know exactly what he's trying to shut down — the conversation, the concern, the implication that Harry might see through him too clearly.

All of it, maybe.

Harry's quiet for a beat too long. Louis doesn't look at him, doesn't dare.

Then, a soft voice from next to him. "I'm not your enemy, Louis."

That stings. Not because it isn't true — but because Louis can feel how hard Harry's trying to stay calm. Gentle. He hates that it's always Harry who has to be the bigger person when he's spiraling like this.

He swallows the thickness in his throat. "I know you're not."

"Then let me in. Just a little. You don't have to say everything. Just let me stay."

Louis finally meets his eyes. Harry's sitting there, not angry — just tired, and a little sad. Still soft, still open. That hurts more than yelling ever could.

Louis exhales shakily, then leans forward, elbows on knees, face in his hands. His voice is muffled when he speaks again.

"I'm not used to someone... wanting to help just because. No strings. Not expecting anything back."

Harry doesn't say anything. Just lets him keep going.

"I always thought — if I didn't give enough, people would leave. So I got really fucking good at giving. Giving what they wanted. Being useful. Being wanted. You know?"

Harry shifts beside him slightly, closer but still giving him space.

"I know," he says quietly.

Louis nods, almost imperceptibly. "And now you're... here. Just sitting here. Wanting nothing. And it makes my brain go mad. Like I'm missing something. Like I'm doing something wrong."

Harry finally touches his knee, grounding. "You're not doing anything wrong."

Louis lets the silence stretch again. Then, so small it's almost a whisper: "I don't know how to let myself be loved if I'm not giving something back."

Harry's breath catches — not dramatically, just enough that Louis feels it.

"That's why it struck me so deeply when you didn't expect anything back when you pleasured me." Louis whispers. "I think I'm just afraid you won't give me your love unless I give things in return."

His stomach knots when he thinks back to those two nights. The last time in the shower and the night before in Harry's bedroom. Harry went down on him both times, he didn't get 'railed' (yet) like he and Harry joked about yesterday morning. But it still was so amazing.

Oh, he loved every damn part of it. Even when he wasn't really used to being on the receiving part.

Except for after they were done. He felt so much guilt and really wanted to do it to Harry as well, he felt like he was using Harry by not returning the favor.

Good lord, why is everything about relationships so damn hard?

"You're already giving," Harry says, his voice waking Louis up from his thoughts, fingers brushing over Louis's knuckles. "You just don't see it. You think it has to be some big, performative thing, but sometimes it's just... sitting here. Letting me see you. That's enough."

Louis shakes his head, half-laughing, half-aching. "You don't know how long I've been trying to believe that."

Harry squeezes his hand gently. "Then I'll keep reminding you. Until you do."

Louis doesn't answer. He just turns a little and leans his temple against Harry's shoulder again, breathing out through his nose, exhausted beyond repair.

Harry doesn't push further.

And that — maybe more than anything — makes Louis want to try.

They sit like that for a long time. No more words. Just the steady rhythm of breathing, the ticking of the clock in the kitchen, and Harry's thumb brushing back and forth over Louis's knuckles in a motion that's as much for his own reassurance as it is for comfort.

Eventually, Louis exhales a shaky breath, the kind that seems to empty out everything inside him. "You didn't have to do that," he mumbles into Harry's shoulder. "Say all those things. Sit here."

Harry hums low, noncommittal. "Yeah, I did."

Louis's lips twitch faintly. "You're kinda stubborn."

"Takes one to know one."

A ghost of a laugh escapes him. It doesn't fix anything, but it loosens something — just a little. Enough.

Louis lifts his head after a while, eyes heavy-lidded and rimmed red with exhaustion, but clearer now. "I still feel like shit," he says, voice rough. "But it's... quieter. In here." He taps his temple gently. "A bit."

Harry studies him for a moment, then nods. "Lie down. I'll massage your back."

Louis hesitates. Not because he doesn't want it — but because he does. And that scares him sometimes.

Still, he moves slowly, letting Harry guide him as he lies down on the couch, curling onto his side with a groan. Harry shifts behind him, pulling a blanket over both of them and settling in close. His palm finds Louis's back, warm and steady, moving in slow, gentle circles.

Louis melts into the touch almost involuntarily. His muscles, tense for so long they forgot how to relax, start to give in. It's not about the massage — it's about the care. The quiet way Harry offers it, without asking for anything in return.

It takes a few minutes, but then Louis speaks again, low and hoarse.

"I'm sorry."

Harry's hand doesn't pause. "For what?"

"For snapping. For shutting you out. For... making it hard."

"You're allowed to be hard to love sometimes," Harry says, and Louis feels his throat tighten instantly. "That's kind of the point, innit? I don't just love the easy parts."

Louis lets out a shaky breath that's almost a sob, but it doesn't go there. He swallows it back.

He's quiet for a while again, then turns slightly, peering up at Harry with something tired but sincere in his eyes.

"I think... I want to let you in. Really. Just—be patient with me. Sometimes I forget how."

Harry's expression softens. He leans down, presses a kiss to Louis's forehead, lingering.

"I've got time."

Louis nods slowly, eyes fluttering shut again. For the first time all day, the weight in his chest feels just a little bit lighter. The migraine still simmers beneath the surface, but it's not all-consuming now. Not when Harry's here.

They don't say much more after that. The room falls quiet again, save for the steady sound of their breathing syncing up under the blanket.

It's not a perfect ending. But it's a start.

And for Louis, right now — that's enough.

Harry watches Louis settle onto the couch, every movement weighed down by exhaustion. He wants to say so much—apologize for pushing too hard, promise to be more patient—but all he does is sit close, letting his hand find Louis's back.

The way Louis leans into him, finally letting go just a little, makes Harry's chest tighten. It's like seeing a cracked shell start to mend, fragile but real.

He's always known Louis is stubborn, guarded—so used to carrying the weight of the world alone that even love feels like a transaction, something to earn. But sitting here now, feeling Louis relax under his touch, Harry feels something else too. Hope.

The migraine hasn't left, he can tell. Louis's face is still pale, tight around the edges. But there's a softness there now, a quiet that wasn't before. And Harry knows that sometimes, quiet is the most important thing.

He kisses the top of Louis's head gently, careful not to disturb him. His fingers keep moving, slow and steady, tracing circles as if mapping out the promise of I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

Harry wants Louis to know this. To feel it deep inside.

Because love isn't about fixing. It's about showing up, even when it's hard. Even when the person you love pushes you away.

Because Harry knows that better than anyone. He doesn't push people away because he doesn't love them. He loves them too much. He cares too much, and he's scared of them not reciprocating that love.

He thinks about the day—how Louis tried to mask. How close he came to breaking, and yet he kept going.

Harry hates seeing him like this, but he's learning that sometimes all Louis needs is to be held in the mess of it.

The room is quiet except for their breathing. Harry glances down at Louis's face, serene now in sleep, if only for a little while.

He'll keep sitting here. Keep waiting. Keep reminding Louis that he's not alone.

Because that's what love is. Not a performance, not a prize. Just this.

Right here. Right now.

A/N: hii guys, im sorry if the last chapter was a little confusing. i hope this one cleared it up more but if not let me know! love you & bye!!! also, i’m sorry the chapters don’t line up so good, it’s bc of the bonus cake chapters.

Chapter 38: Chapter 36

a/n: just for clarification: this chapter is a small time jump from the last chapter.

Louis suddenly opens his eyes, and he's met with only darkness, a bit disoriented he glances at his watch.

2.44am

He doesn't really know why he's suddenly so awake and conscious, but he's a little too awake to just be switching between sleep cycles.

He turns around, facing Harry, and his hand immediately makes it way to Harry's.

He hears him softly groan next to him when he grabs his hand, a soft sigh leaves Louis lips as he makes out the shadow of Harry next to him in the dark.

He's so lucky to be able to be with him.

His heart aches a little when he thinks about Harry.

Lately everything feels different, but also at the same time nothing changed.

It's hard to exactly pinpoint the reason for it, but Louis has been struggling a little. Mentally he's not been in the best place to be honest.

Even through all the good things happening in his life.

Harry and him have been together for a few weeks now and honestly, they've been good together. It hasn't been easy but it feels like they're on the right path.

Work has been amazing, he's scored so many good opportunities for his team that he actually had to get Mark to be his assistent contractor. They've even been able to hire a new guy for their team as well. It's been crazy fucking busy, but so worth it for Louis.

Still, even with everything going so well professionally, Louis can't seem to shake the weight that presses just behind his ribs, scarily heavy at odd moments. Like when the coffee machine takes a little too long at work or when the silence between texts stretches longer than expected.

Then, there's this gnawing feeling in his stomach, curling up the walls of his insides.

Harry notices it, of course he does.

He has this way of just knowing, not in a dramatic, mind-reading way, but in that quiet grounded way of his. That way that makes Louis feel seen and safe.

Not always there's something to say.

Then Harry will just go prepare some tea for Louis, kiss him on the cheek—in that comforting manner of his— and just sit beside him on the couch to watch their series, without asking anything.

And somehow, Louis finds that the latter helps him more than anything.

They haven't talked about it much, not directly. Louis, of course, has tried. But he's still not the best at opening up and Harry's learned not to push too hard.

Last week there was a night where Louis came home late, again. Eyes tired, body wrapped into his hoodie. And Harry was still up, waiting.

And the only thing Harry said was just a simple, "Come here."

There was no push. No question. No anything else. Just that reminder that Harry was there for Louis, no matter what.

It was enough to break something open in Louis, just for a moment. But enough to let him drop the bag on the floor and kick off his boots, to melt into Harry's arms for comfort.

And that's the thing about being with Harry for Louis. They're not perfect, God knows they have their moments, but it feels real. Even when Louis doesn't know what is going on but he feels himself unraveling at the edges. Harry doesn't back up, if anything he stays.

And in this chaos, it's at least a little order for him.

He turns onto his back now, his fingers still laced with Harry's.

Harry.

His Harry.

Louis breathes out his name softly, letting the air take it away.

He's not sure he deserves Harry.

Harry, who's been there constantly for Louis lately, who never asks anything in return.

Emotionally he never does ask for anything else than just Louis' love, but also sexually he doesn't ask for anything in return.

They've been intimate for a few times now, but none of the times its gone further than one of them going down on the other.

And it’s not that Louis hasn’t done more than that before, because he has done it, with previous relationships. But with Harry it feels different. It's not necessarily that he doesn't want to. Because fuck, he really does.

Would Harry not get tired of that? Maybe he'd prefer someone else over Louis, someone who would want to give himself completely already.

That thought stabs in Louis' chest, his thumb stroking Harry's knuckles, almost as if he's soothing himself from that hellish thought with the motion.

It's not that they haven't been close, they have.

But Harry's been careful with him, tender, in a way that sometimes makes Louis ache more than it soothes him. Like Harry's holding himself back for Louis' sake, waiting for him to be fully ready, fully present.

But Louis isn't really sure what that looks like anymore.

There have been moments, quiet and soft ones, where Harry's kissed him slow, hands always gentle. But asking him, always asking. And Louis kisses him back, of course he does. He wants Harry just as bad, he wants all of him. But sometimes, just before they can really fall into each other, Louis pulls back.

And Harry never says anything. Just rests his forehead against Louis' and whispers something comforting like, "It's okay, no rush."

But the guilt eats at Louis anyway. The voice in the back of his head telling him he's too much and not enough at the same time.

The harsh words Harry spoke some time ago replay in his head; "You're hard to rely on."

Those words had landed like a gut punch. Harry had said them once, not necessarily cruel, but honest. Louis knew it had been true, still was sometimes. And it clung to him in quiet moments like this, when everything else was still.

He sighs, pulling the covers up to his chin again.

The soft snores next to him making him aware he's not alone. Yet.

He wonders if Harry feels it too, this distance Louis keeps stitched away under his skin, like a secret. Or maybe Harry does know, but just chooses to stay with him through it anyway.

Louis closes his eyes again, the darkness pressing behind his eyelids but sleep doesn't want to come.

He squeezes Harry's hand a little tighter.

"Don't let me ruin this." He whispers, though, it's more to himself than to Harry. The words are soft, so soft, he doesn't expect an answer.

But then Harry shifts beside him, groggy and warm, mumbling something half-asleep.

Louis blinks a few times, did he hear that correctly? "What?" He asks softly.

Harry exhales, squeezing Louis' hand. "You're not ruining anything, babe."

Louis freezes but then breathes out, almost a laugh. Tears burn behind his eyes as he realizes that he needed to hear that so bad.

"Now go to sleep, it's almost 4." Harry grumbles, pulling Louis' closer so his forehead is nudging the curve of Harry's shoulder.

And for the first time that night, he feels like it's safe to go to sleep again.

But the sleep doesn't come so easily.

Louis lets his fingers absentmindedly play with the hem of Harry's boxers, he inhales his scent, can't get enough of him.

Their physical closeness makes Louis' mind wander again. Not in a sharp, lustful way but in that slow, aching burn of wanting someone completely. Of needing to feel connected in a way that words can't touch.

His fingertips dip just beneath the soft waistband of Harry's boxers, not going anywhere yet, just resting there. A silent question. A quiet confession, maybe.

Harry stirs slightly at the touch, but doesn't flinch or pull away. His breathing stays even, steady, comforting.

Louis swallows thickly.

He's not trying to start anything, not really.

He just needs to feel close, in that skin-to-skin, bone-deep way. The kind of closeness that says I trust you without having to say anything at all.

His lips find Harry's shoulder, a soft, lingering touch. A kiss meant more for grounding than affection.

Harry shifts again, just a bit. "You okay?" He murmurs against Louis' hair. Sending vibrations down his spine with it.

Louis nods against his skin, "Yeah. Just- just needed to touch you."

There's silence between them for a few seconds. Then Harry's hand comes up, slow and gentle, finding its way into Louis hair like he's done it a thousant times before, and he has.

"Okay." Harry breathes out, "I got you, Lou."

Louis blinks back the burning in his eyes again, his throat thick. He moves slightly, pressing his body closer, almost curling into Harry likes he's trying to disappear inside him.

"You're not too much," Harry says suddenly, quietly, like he knows what's on Louis mind. "And you're not not enough. You're exactly right."

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, his heart hammering like Harry's just read every word off the inside of his skull.

"I just worry," Louis finally admits, voice cracking around it. "That I'm holding you back. That you'll want more. Or worse—that you'll need someone who's not always halfway in their own head."

Harry's lips press into Louis' hair. "I don't need more. I want you. However much of you you can give me."

And Louis could fall apart right then and there.

But instead, he just breathes him in. Wraps his arm tighter around Harry's waist and lets his fingers stay where they are. Holding, touching, anchoring.

He still doesn't know what "ready" is supposed to feel like.

But maybe it's this. Being seen. Being held. Being told he doesn't have to be anything more than what he is right now.

Maybe this is enough.

And as Harry's breathing starts to even out again, Louis finally starts to drift, still tangled in all his doubts, still not fully okay, but wrapped in the warmth of someone who stays anyway.

And for tonight, that's everything.

Chapter 39: Chapter 37

"See you tonight for dinner?." Louis bends over the bed and presses a soft kiss on Harry's lips. "I promise I'll be home by 7."

"AM?" Harry mumbles, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Louis rolls his eyes but a grin tugs at his lips, "Yeah, see you then."

And off Louis goes. Off to another day of work, and ending up seeing Harry for about 2 minutes after before he's dead tired. And he's just a tad jealous of Harry who can sleep in and actually rest.

He texts Mark just before pulling out of the parking lot.

L. Leaving rn. See you in 10..

He puts on some soft music and drives over to Marks house. He's tired, but it's nothing he isn't used to.

The last few weeks they've been carpooling as the site is in one of the busiest places of the city, and they hated having to look for parking for so long. Now they just made a parking spot on site for their work van and they haven't had any issues since.

As he pulls up to Marks, he notices he's on the phone.

Mark opens the van door with his phone pinched between his ear and shoulder, and slips in one of the front passenger seats, "Morning."

Louis nods back at him.

"Yeah no sure." Marks speaks into the phone, before turning over to Louis. "Lou, can we pick up Ashton as well? His car broke down just now."

Ashton is the newest hire at their company. He's a really nice, hard-working guy and Louis doesn't mind it. Louis likes driving the van and because it's a three-seater in front, they have lots of room anyway.

So, Louis nods again. "Sure. Whats the address?"

Mark moves over to the seat in the middle to type the address on Louis phone and Louis starts driving again. Maneuvering the van through the tiny streets as they get closer to Ashtons house.

"Man he lives in a fucking maze." Louis curses under his breath as he has to make a u-turn because he was about to enter a one way street at the wrong side.

As soon as they drive through the correct street, they see Ashton already walking out the front door. He waves at them and wait for them to slow down. His dark red hair blowing in the wind, Louis notices it matching with his red duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Morning." He greets them as he sits down next to Mark on the passenger seat, putting the bag down on the floor. "Thanks for picking me up guys, really appreciate it."

"Of course." Louis drums his fingers on the steeringwheel along to the beat of the music as they're driving to the site. "What's up with your car anyway?"

Ashton grimaces, "Don't even know at this point. It's an older car, propagandized as reliable. Well, it's been the fifth time this year now. And all of them were inconvenient fixes"

"Well that's fucked up man." Mark whistles between his teeth, "Hopefully an easy one this time?"

They soon arrive at the site and the workday is as busy as usual. Louis is running from one side to another with Mark assisting. His whole team and especially Ashton are working their asses off today. Louis is proud of his team.

Now they finally have 5 seconds of rest as they sit down to eat their lunch, way too late at that.

Louis has treated them to sandwiches from a café nearby. He just appreciates them a lot, because again, this project has been an amazing opportunity and the speed with which his team is working it is intense.

Louis finally has time to reply to his texts now, as he felt the occasional buzz in his pocket but he didn't have the time to properly read and reply.

There's 5 messages, of course all from Harry. What can he say, Harry's a double texter.

H. So, dinner together at 7 then?

H. I miss you

H. Heading out to class rn, will meet up w Zayn after

H. The café is playing Fleetwood Mac, made me think of you.

H. Going to pick up groceries for dinner now. See you at home.

Louis smiles down at his phone, he loves reading these little snips and bits of Harry's day.

He send a quick text back, before he starts work again.

L. see you at 7, miss you

By the time the sun starts dipping low in the sky, the team is pacing up. Sweaty and sore, but satisfied. Louis gives a few shoulder claps and quick thanks all around, especially to Ashton, who's just finished hauling the last of the materials back to the storage area.

"Great work today," Louis tells him as they lock up, "You made the last part go way faster than it usually goes."

Ashton grins, a little bashful. "Just didn't want to be the newbie slacking off."

Mark snorts as he walks past them. "Well, you've officially been promoted to 'Not the Newbie Everyone Secretly Hates.'"

"Big honor," Ashton says, mock-serious, and the three of them share a laugh.

The drive back is quieter, the kind of quiet that settles after a long day of physical labor. Ashton dozes off leaning slightly toward the window, and Mark scrolls on his phone beside him, probably checking football scores.

Louis drives with one hand on the wheel, music low again, mind already at home. Thinking about Harry's text. Thinking about what dinner might be. Thinking about the way Harry always plays music while cooking and ends up dancing in his socks.

When they finally drop Ashton off, he gives them both a sleepy wave. "Thanks again. Seriously."

"Anytime," Louis says, meaning it. Half and half expecting it to be the same thing tomorrow.

Back at Mark's, they part ways quickly. Mark mutters something about "ice baths and protein" before slamming the van door. Louis chuckles and pulls out of the lot.

Traffic isn't too bad, thankfully. He pulls into a parking space next to the building, just before seven on the dot. He grabs his bag and makes his way up to the door, already smelling something warm and rich wafting out of the house.

When he steps inside, Harry's in the kitchen, swaying a little as he stirs something in a pan.

There's a vinyl spinning on the record player in the corner, Fleetwood Mac, what else could he expect after Harry's text? And a glass of wine on the counter, half-full.

Louis doesn't say anything at first. Just watches him for a moment.

Harry turns when he hears the door click shut. "Hey," he says with a bright smile. "Right on time."

Louis drops his bag and crosses the room in a few quick strides. He wraps his arms around Harry from behind and buries his face in the crook of his neck.

"Missed you today," He mumbles against him, breathing his scent in.

Harry leans back into him. "You always say that like I didn't text you five times."

"You could've texted ten and it wouldn't have been enough."

Harry laughs, soft and breathy. "You're lucky dinner's already made or I'd be dragging you to bed right now."

Louis grins, lips pressed against Harry's shoulder. "Who says we can't do both?"

Harry hums. "Let's eat first. I made that pasta you like. With the garlic bread that ruins your breath but you beg for anyway."

Louis pulls back just enough to look at him. "Perfect."

And for a moment, standing there in their warm little kitchen with dinner on the stove and music humming low, everything feels exactly right. In moments like these the doubts fade for Louis.

"How's the new guy?" Harry asks as he's finishing the last parts of dinner.

Louis smiles, "He's- Ashton is great. Really putting in the work. Mark seems to like him as well."

"That's good." Harry replies, grating some parmesan. "Good addition for the team then."

Louis can't agree more. He really likes Ashton, he's funny, kind and hardworking. All qualities he prefers in a coworker.

They eat at the kitchen table, a little too close together for comfort but neither of them minds. The pasta is rich and creamy, with just the right amount of spice, and Louis makes a point of making a show of dramatic moaning with the first bite.

"Fuck me Harry. This is so good."

Harry just rolls his eyes. "You are so annoying."

"You love it," Louis says through a mouthful, the sauce lining his lips.

"Unfortunately."

They eat slowly, lazily, like the kind of couple that knows there's nowhere else to be. Louis keeps brushing his leg against Harry's under the table, not by accident. He watches as Harry talks, about class, about Zayn's new tattoo idea (another snake, apparently), about how the cashier at the grocery store flirted with him by commenting on his pasta choice.

"Oh yeah?" Louis quirks a brow, teasing. "What'd she say?"

Harry lifts his wine glass, feigning smugness. "'Only someone with great taste buys this kind of pasta.'" He sips. "Can you believe the audacity?"

Louis leans forward. "Did you tell her your boyfriend builds houses for a living and could carry her whole cart with one hand?"

Harry laughs, shaking his head. "No, I told her I had a boyfriend who leaves the bathroom light on and never hangs his towel."

Louis puts a hand over his heart. "Betrayal."

"You'll live."

They talk like that, soft banter layered over something quieter, the comfort of knowing each other, of choosing each other every day even in the tiniest ways. Louis steals a piece of garlic bread from Harry's plate. Harry lets him, even though he mutters a half-hearted "rude."

After dinner, they leave the plates for later, and Harry drags Louis to the living room with a tug on his wrist.

"Dance with me," he says.

Louis groans. "Harry, I've been on my feet all fucking day." And not to mention, he's been awake for like half of the night.

"You promised!" Harry protests, smiling through it. "You said next time Fleetwood Mac was playing, you'd do the dumb twirly thing with me again."

Louis sighs dramatically, but lets himself be pulled in. "Fine. One twirl."

Harry places his hands on Louis' shoulders. "You're gonna do three."

And they dance, slow and stupid, socked feet slipping on the hardwood. Louis twirls Harry once, twice, then keeps going just to hear the sound of Harry's laughter echo off the walls. He catches him by the waist after the fourth spin and holds him still.

"I missed this," Louis says, voice low. "Us."

Harry wraps his arms around Louis's neck. "You say that like we haven't been sleeping in the same bed for the past weeks."

"I know," Louis murmurs. "But sometimes I'm gone so much it still feels like we're only half here. Like I come home and you've already folded the day up neatly and I've just missed it."

Harry's expression softens. "You haven't missed it. You're part of it. You're the part that makes it worth folding up for."

Louis kisses him, slow and quiet, like it means something, because it does.

And later, when they collapse on the couch, full and warm and tangled up together under the throw blanket Harry insists is only decorative, Louis thinks that this, right here, is the part of life he'll never get tired of coming home to.

Home, he feels, is where Harry is.

"Hey, Harry?" Louis speaks up a while later, fiddling with the hem of the blanket.

"Yeah?" Harry looks up from the book he was reading as Louis had just been sitting next to him, half reading along with him.

"Thank you for last night."

Harry's brow shoots up just a little before it's back to it's normal state, confusion evident on his face. "What?"

"I'm sorry I woke you up for needing reassurance like that. But you know, the night makes everything worse. So thank you for not questioning it and just giving me the reassurance."

Oh. "Of course Lou." Harry frowns, "I'm always there if you need me."

And Louis knows that, he does. But he just finds it hard to believe sometimes.

He brings up his hand to Harry's face, cups his jaw with it and caresses his cheek with his thumb. He bites down on his lip, for a moment just admiring Harry.

Harry leans into Louis' hand, closing his eyes briefly. The touch is soft, almost hesitant, and something about that makes Harry's chest tighten in a way he doesn't quite know how to name.

"I'm always there if you need me," he says again, quieter this time.

Because he means it. He really does. But sometimes it feels like Louis only remembers that he can lean on him when it's 2AM and everything feels heavier than it should. Like when the house is dark, and Louis is a little more raw, a little less guarded.

Harry doesn't mind. Not really.

He just sometimes wishes Louis reached for him in the daylight, too.

Louis is looking at him like he's trying to memorize something, the curve of his lips, the way his eyes shift colors in the lamplight, the freckles that darkened a little more this spring. It's not new, this gaze.

But lately, it feels like Louis has been trying to say something in silence more than usual.

Harry smiles softly, rests his hand on top of Louis', still cupping his face.

"Lou... You know you don't have to wait until you're falling apart to let me in, right?"

Louis blinks. A small, automatic smile, but his eyes flicker, that twitch of discomfort he gets when Harry says something too close to the truth.

"I'm not-"

Harry shakes his head, gently. "I know you're not. That's not what I meant." He traces his thumb along Louis' wrist, grounding, not pushing. "I just... I don't want to be the person who only gets to see you when you're already struggling. I want to be there all the time."

Louis doesn't answer right away. His hand slips from Harry's jaw to cradle the back of his neck, thumb brushing under the curls there.

"I don't do it on purpose," He says finally. "It's just—work gets loud. And my thoughts get surpressed there for a little and when it's quieter, like at home, it comes back. And I don't wanna come home and dump it all on you."

"You wouldn't be dumping it," Harry says. "You'd just be sharing it."

Louis huffs a breath. "You always make it sound so simple."

Harry shrugs. "Love should be simple. Or at least, shared."

That makes Louis quiet again. But his hand hasn't moved.

Harry leans forward, rests his forehead against Louis'. The book is long forgotten on the couch, and the record has ended, but the room still feels warm, like something soft and living is stitched between them.

"I know you're doing your best," Harry says after a moment, "and I'm proud of you. I just... I want you to know I see you. Even when you think you're hiding parts of yourself to protect me."

Louis pulls him in then, arms around his waist, nose pressed against his neck. He breathes him in like it's the first deep breath of the day.

"I don't deserve you," he whispers.

Harry smiles against his temple. "You do. And then some."

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other, for a while.

Louis hides his yawns into Harry's shoulder until Harry can't bear it anymore. "Louis, you don't have to stay up for me. Let's go to bed."

Louis groans, "It's just so frustrating, I feel like you only get me at the worst parts of the day. When I'm so fucking tired after work and we have dinner and after that I'm literally toasted and ready for bed."

Harry breaks their touch by leaning back, facing Louis. "Louis."

"Harry." Louis mocks his stern tone, avoiding his eyes.

"Stop being funny and listen to me."

"Okay." Louis sighs.

"I understand that you and I have different responsibilities, I'm still in uni and you're working fulltime. It's hard, I know. But we can make it work. We have the weekend and you said that after this project the workload will be a little more managable for a while, so then we can maybe do something fun on week nights as well."

For a moment Louis finally looks up at Harry, he finds the plea in his eyes. He tries to shove the thought away but he can't but think that somewhere behind the words, Harry is trying to convince himself of it as well.

He swallows hard, "I know. I just wish there was a way that it didn't have to be this hard. It feels like all the time we have is slipping away."

Harry nods, "It's just for a bit, okay? After this project you said you'll get more time right?"

"Yeah. I said that." Louis replies, not sounding too convinced himself. "We already have a way better work day hour-wise than we did before, but all these projects are adding up and we need the overtime."

Harry's shoulders sag down a little, "Okay, yeah, I understand."

Louis rolls his bottomlip into his mouth. "Look at me, it's barely 10 and I'm off to bed. We had like what, 3 hours together today? I miss you Harry."

Harry brushes a hand through Louis' hair, gentle and steady. "I miss you too. All the time."

Louis leans into the touch, eyes tired but open, honest. "It's like we're living parallel lives. Same house, same bed, but... not the same hours. Not the same rhythm."

Harry gives a small, sad smile. "It won't always be like this."

"How do you know that?" Louis asks, not accusatory, just tired. Just wanting to believe it.

Harry pauses, then shrugs a little. "Because we want it to change. And we keep trying. That's gotta count for something, right?"

Louis hums, nodding slowly. "Yeah. I just don't want trying to be all we ever do."

Harry's quiet for a moment, then says, "What if we didn't just wait for the weekend? Or for a 'less busy time'? What if we made little moments during the day ours? Even if they're tiny."

Louis quirks an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Tiny like what?"

Harry thinks. "Okay, say you're on break. Even if you've only got five minutes, just call me. Doesn't have to be deep. Just say hi. Tell me something dumb that happened. Let me hear your voice."

Louis nods, thoughtful. "And you can send me stuff too. Photos. Updates. I don't care if it's your grocery basket or your class notes. I wanna see your day too."

Harry's lips curve into a smile. "Deal."

Louis shifts, looking more awake now. "And maybe we start making the most of the little time we do have. Like... dinners, no phones. Couch time is sacred. Maybe even-" he breaks off with a half-smile, "Actually putting the record player on every night. Even if we're just brushing our teeth."

Harry grins. "Yes. Toothbrush duets."

Louis nods, "Also, let's try to have one day of the weekend for just us two."

"Yeah."

Louis laughs, a real one, not tired. "God, what are we?"

Harry shrugs. "A mess. But a good one."

They sit in that small glow of understanding for a moment. It's still not easy, nothing has magically solved itself. But something has shifted. There's a plan. There's a promise.

"I'll still miss you," Louis says, voice softer now. "But I think... I won't feel so far away if I know you're still part of my day."

Harry reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together. "You never stopped being part of mine."

Louis looks at him like he's memorizing again. Only this time, he's not afraid he'll forget.

"Okay," he says. "Let's try again tomorrow."

Harry squeezes his hand. "Every day."

Chapter 40: Chapter 38

"Goodness gracious, I thought this Friday would never come." Louis groans as he enters the kitchen, he drops his bag on the floor before launching himself into a seat at the table.

"What'cha making?" He curiously asks Harry, who's stirring in a pot on the stove.

Harry shrugs, "Just some soup. Figured we might like an easy meal tonight."

Louis nods, "Right."

He watches Harry move around the kitchen for a bit, while he's finishing up the food. He notices the slight sway in his hips as he moves along with the music playing in the background. He's missed being able to just look at Harry today.

He can't wait to get his hands on him. Soon.

It's Stella's birthday today and they are going to celebrate it at their favorite bar tonight. Of course, Louis was home later than he expected so a soup meal is perfect, easy and fast.

"Here you go, babe." Harry says as he finally puts a bowl of soup in front of Louis.

Louis isn't sure if he's ever going to get used to Harry calling him babe. It's such a sweet saying, ugh, he loves it. Loves him.

"Thank you." He grabs Harry's sleeve before he can walk away and pulls him closer. "You know what would be good with this?"

Harry raises a brow, "No, what?"

"A kiss." Louis grins as he then grabs Harry's collar to pull his face closer. He kisses Harry with such intensity, he forgets where they are for a moment until Harry pulls back.

"Don't start something you can not finish." He warns as he puts his hand on Louis chest to create a little distance between the two of them.

Louis just cheekily grins up at Harry with lips just a tad redder than usual from the kiss. "We could though?"

Harry lingers for a second, his palm still resting on Louis's chest. His thumb brushes lightly against the fabric of Louis's shirt like he's tempted to lean back in but doesn't. He sighs instead, a soft chuckle slipping out as he shakes his head. "You're trouble," he says, finally stepping back toward the stove to pour himself a bowl.

Louis spoons some soup into his mouth with a pleased hum. "Only the good kind."

They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the low hum of the playlist in the background filling in the quiet. Outside, the golden wash of early evening filters in through the blinds, casting lazy stripes across the kitchen floor. Anticipation flies through the air, of the night to come.

Harry finishes first and leans back in his chair, watching Louis with a lazy sort of fondness that makes Louis feel warm from more than just the soup.

"Think Stella's gonna like our present?" Harry asks.

Louis breathes out, "I hope so. I think so?"

They got her a pair of vintage designer earrings that she and Harry had talked about some time ago. So when they saw them in a vintage store they went to a few weeks ago, Harry told Louis Stella really wanted these and they immediately bought them for her.

They then fall into an easy rhythm of cleaning up, bumping shoulders occasionally, stealing glances. The kind of domestic choreography that feels like second nature now. Louis dries the last dish and sets it aside before turning to face Harry, who's wiping the counter.

"You look really good, by the way," Louis says, quieter than usual.

Harry turns, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

Louis nods. "Might have to keep you close at the bar. Just to be safe."

Harry's eyes narrow with amusement. "So you can keep jealous eyes off me, or so I don't wander?"

Louis grins again, that same cheeky spark flickering in his eyes. "Little bit of both."

Harry throws the dish towel at him as a reply.

They laugh, and in the lingering moment before they head out to celebrate, the house feels full of something soft and steady and entirely theirs.

The bar is loud in the way that makes conversation lean-in-close and laughter bigger than it needs to be. It's a Friday night kind of chaos, half the city seemingly jammed into booths and barstools, pints clinking, music humming just under the roar of voices.

Louis and Harry arrive late, but no one's surprised. They know Louis takes ages anyway, in Harry's words. But truth is, he just wants to look good on one of the few nights he can go do something.

They're barely through the door when they spot the group crowded into a booth near the back. Their booth, as Michael declared it a few months ago and continues to insist despite it not being reserved even once.

Zayn is leaned back with a cigarette tucked behind one ear, Stella tucked into his side, dressed like she owns the city. Calum and Luke are on opposite ends of the same bench, pointedly not looking at each other but still finishing each other's sentences like they forgot they're meant to be avoiding eye contact.

Michael's already a few pints deep, yelling about some band's "comeback," and Niall's waving them over like they've been gone for weeks.

"There they are!" Niall grins, already tipsy, already glowing. "You made it!"

Harry laughs, this guy. "We're never not coming, Niall. Calm down."

"Hey birthday girl." Louis smiles at Stella, who's just standing up to greet him. He embraces her in a tight hug after pressing a kiss on her cheek. "First birthday of us being friends, huh."

Stella smiles back, that knowing smile of someone who's seen the other at their worst and has let themselves be seen at their worst. "Yeah."

"So grateful for you in my life." Louis says, feeling like crying, honestly. So the only logical thing to do is to push Harry towards Stella, to get the attention on someone else. "Here, go greet the birthday girl Harry."

Harry rolls his eyes before giving her a hug as well, "Happy birthday Stella."

Louis hands over a small package, wrapped in Christmas paper because honestly, Louis can't be bothered buying birthday wrapping paper. "Here, from us two."

Stella sits down to open it, "Fuck me, there's no way? How did you guys find these?"

Zayn whispers something in her ear making her blush, probably something like he'd like to fuck her, but anyway. She seems to not be able to believe the gift.

"You like it?" Louis grins as he sits down next to Calum, giving him and Niall on the other side of Calum a fist bump. On the other side of Niall there's Michael and Luke, both grinning up at Louis and nodding their head in unison as a 'what's up?'

"Fuck yeah I like it." She takes the earrings out of the box and immediately puts them in her ears.

"Good." Harry nods, sitting down on the bench next to Louis.

"I missed you, Louis," Michael sighs dramatically, pushing a pint toward him. "Harry is hogging you. You need chaos in your life again."

"Yeah, because you're the epitome of stability," Louis says, draping an arm behind Harry and stealing a sip from his glass.

Stella leans across the table, chin in hand. "How's the love nest, you two?"

Louis shrugs, eyes sliding toward Harry for a second too long. "Good. Busy. Work's been-"

"Hell," Harry finishes with a smile, brushing their knees together under the table. "But we've got the weekend."

Luke raises a glass lazily. "To the weekend."

Everyone clinks, some with enthusiasm, some with the sort of tired relief that only young adults juggling too many things can offer.

Calum groans into his drink. "Some of us have to work tomorrow, you know."

"Who makes you book shoots on a Saturday?" Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Rent," Calum deadpans, and Michael gives him a solemn nod of solidarity.

The night goes on like that, easy conversation, flickering glances between Calum and Luke when they think no one's watching, Stella talking Harry into a second cocktail ("You're not driving, live a little!"), Louis and Zayn bickering about whether or not Oasis is overrated while sharing fries.

Niall insists on playing DJ from his phone for the booth's immediate vicinity, and for a while, it's like the stress of the week melted off somewhere between the second round of drinks and the arrival of a very average plate of nachos.

At one point, Harry slips out to the bathroom and Louis watches him go, head tilted just slightly.

Stella leans in when she sees it. "You okay?"

Louis doesn't look away. "Yeah. Just... It's nice, you know?"

She hums, nodding. "You look good together. Comfortable."

Louis finally turns back to the table, the noise of their friends swirling back in. "It's easy to forget how much you miss someone when you see them every day."

Zayn claps him on the back, uncharacteristically gentle. "Well, you've got the weekend now."

"And some garlic bread," Michael offers, sliding the last piece toward him with mock sincerity.

Harry returns then, cheeks pink from the cold outside, and slides right back into the booth like he never left. Louis's arm finds its way around his shoulders again almost automatically.

"Everything alright?" Harry asks softly.

"Yeah," Louis murmurs. "Just glad we came."

Harry smiles. "Me too."

The warmth of the night carries on, drinks keep coming, voices get louder, and someone convinces Niall to stop DJ-ing for five minutes.

But the air between Calum and Luke? It's a different kind of charged. Tighter. Like a storm waiting in the wings.

Louis notices it again when Calum laughs a beat too late at something Michael says. Luke doesn't even look his way. Just drinks his beer like it owes him something.

Then there's the way Calum's shoulders stiffen every time Luke leans in to talk to anyone else, especially when Luke's grinning at Zayn, who sarcastically flirts back without even realizing he's a pawn in something unspoken.

Louis clocks it. So does Stella, if the glance she throws Zayn is anything to go by.

"So," Niall says brightly, clearly sensing the shift and trying to drag the mood back up, "what's the plan for the rest of the night? Dancing? Shots? Regret?"

"I vote for all three," Michael says, raising a hand.

"I vote we don't let Luke anywhere near tequila," Calum mutters into his glass, eyes widening as he clearly not meant to say that out loud.

Luke's eyes snap to him, sharp. "Right, because you were such a delight last time."

"Oh, here we go," Michael mutters under his breath, "Be so for real right now."

The table quiets slightly. The music still booms in the background, but the hush at their booth is obvious now.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Calum asks leaning over to look past Niall to Luke, not quite biting, but close.

Luke sets his glass down a little too hard. "Nothing. Just saying."

"Appreciate it, will keep it in mind," Calum answers back, then leans away like he regrets it the second it's out.

Louis exhales through his nose, trying to stay out of it. But damn.

Stella arches a brow and sips her drink slowly. "Wow, okay. So we're doing this."

"No, we're not," Luke says quickly, hands up like he's surrendering, though his jaw is clenched. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're so clearly not fine," Niall says gently. "And neither is he."

He gestures between them. Luke avoids Calum's gaze. Calum avoids Luke's.

"Do you two need a minute?" Zayn asks, less of a suggestion and more of a challenge.

"We're good," Calum mutters. But his knee is bouncing under the table now, the only sign he's as wound up as he looks.

Louis catches Harry's eye. Harry gives him a look like I told you something was off.

"Alright," Louis says finally, trying to cut through it. "We're not doing drama tonight. It's Stella's night."

"Exactly," Stella says, her voice a touch firmer. "And the vibe is birthday fun, not unresolved drama."

"Too late," Michael whispers to Niall, way too loud, of course, so Niall elbows him hard.

Luke sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Look. It's not— We'll talk later. Okay?"

Calum gives a tight nod. "Fine."

But neither of them looks at each other after that.

The moment passes, or at least, they pretend it does. But the table doesn't settle quite the same. Every laugh feels a little more performative. Every clink of glass just a little louder than necessary.

Michael gets his playing cards on the table and everyone joins in, and on the outside they seem like all of them are completely drawn in by the game.

But still, Louis sees the way Luke keeps glancing over when Calum isn't looking. And the way Calum's thumb runs over the edge of his glass like he's thinking too hard about something he won't say.

The tension doesn't explode. It doesn't have to.

It just sits there, humming like static, waiting.

Louis tries to lighten the mood, as does Michael, but the both of them fail.

Luke stands up and mumbles something about needing a smoke, nobody really replies.

The air outside the bar is crisp in that early summer kind of way, still warm enough to be pleasant, but the kind of breeze that wakes you up a little.

Louis who went after him, spots Luke leaning against the brick wall, cigarette between his fingers, head tilted up like the sky might answer something for him.

Louis steps outside quietly, letting the door swing shut behind him with a soft thud.

"You sneaking off for a moment of peace?" He asks, grabbing his lighter while holding his hand out for a cigarette.

Luke doesn't look at him right away, only offers him his cigarette box. "Something like that."

They stand in silence for a moment, the glow of their cigarettes the only light between them besides the faint orange spill from the streetlamp.

"He's still mad, isn't he," Luke says, finally.

Louis exhales smoke and nods. "Yeah. You know he is."

"I thought time would help," Luke mutters. "That he'd... I don't know. See that it didn't mean anything."

Louis flicks ash onto the pavement. "Yeah, well. That's the thing, innit? Might not have meant anything to you, but it meant something to him."

Luke swallows hard. "We were on a break."

Louis glances over, raising his chin a little higher in the air. "Were you though?"

Luke hesitates. "He said he needed space. I gave it to him."

"By fucking someone else?"

Luke winces, and Louis doesn't even sound judgmental, just blunt. Honest.

"I didn't know Calum would come back." Luke takes a long drag of his cigarette, eyes glassy. "I didn't plan it. It was one night. I didn't even tell Calum until we were together later, after the movies. But I think he felt like he was losing me, that's why he tried to push so hard, to see if I gave a fuck."

"Yeah, and you still gave a fuck," Louis murmurs. "That's the problem with loving someone who seems unreachable."

Same for him and Harry, to be honest.

Luke rubs at his jaw, the kind of gesture someone makes when they're trying not to cry but also don't want to talk anymore.

"Do you still love him?" Louis asks, softer now.

Luke doesn't even hesitate. "Every fucking day."

They fall into silence again, only the sound of distant traffic and the low thud of bass bleeding from the bar inside filling the air.

Louis stubs out his cigarette and nods toward the door. "Talk to him, mate. Really talk. Before whatever's left between you rots. He needed you then, and he might still need you now."

Luke just nods, eyes fixed on a crack in the pavement.

Eventually, when it isn't even that late, they all just leave. Not as a group, tipsy and laughing but soft chats, splitting off in pairs for shared rides and night buses.

Zayn and Stella head off together, arms around each other. Like the perfect couple.

Calum and Luke linger by the curb in a haze of something almost tender, clearly needing to speak about some things.

Niall and Michael shout their goodbyes into the night like it's a festival crowd instead of a quiet street. Probably on their way to the next bar.

Louis and Harry walk the last few blocks home, hands brushing, coats zipped up against the wind.

"I like them," Louis says quietly. "Our people."

Harry smiles, lacing their fingers together. "Me too."

"I just, I feel bad for Calum and Luke both." Louis speaks his mind as they wait for a pedestrian walk.

"Yeah, it's hard." Harry says.

Louis bites down on his lower lip, "It's just," He stops again. "Love is so fucking hard sometimes. I just want to see the both of them happy. And I'm in no place to judge their relationship but I've seen Luke when they were on and off and it's like they're no fucking good when they're together but also no good when they're not together."

Harry nods, grasping Louis' hand a little tighter. "I'll check in with Calum tomorrow."

"Same but with Luke." Louis says, "Hopefully they'll be okay."

Harry slides his hand around Louis' waist, and presses a kiss into Louis' hair. "They will. It's kind that you're worried for them though."

Louis gives him a small smile, "Just want to see them well."

And that's what Harry loves about Louis. Even amidst his own struggles, he'll always have an eye on the ones in his inner circle.

When they finally reach their front door, Louis stops Harry from going in immediately. "Harry?."

"Louis?" Harry asks.

Louis looks up at him, his expression unreadable in the low porch light, somewhere between tired and thoughtful, like there's something he's been turning over in his head for longer than he wants to admit.

"I know we joke a lot. About the love nest and you being clingy and me being difficult—"

"You are difficult," Harry says softly, a teasing edge to his voice, but there's nothing playful in his eyes.

Louis huffs a quiet laugh. "Yeah. But I'm also really fucking lucky, and I know that. Us being good... it's not lost on me."

Harry studies him, something gentle and grounding in the way he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Louis' ear. "Where's this coming from?"

Louis shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know. Just watching Calum and Luke tonight, it made me think... that could've been us. Maybe still could be, if we're not careful."

"We're not them, Lou."

"I know. But I also know how easy it is to hurt the person you love when you're scared. When you're too proud or too hurt or just too tired to say the right thing."

Harry leans forward, presses a kiss to Louis' forehead. "We'll need to keep talking. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."

Louis closes his eyes for a beat, lets himself lean into it. "Yeah. Promise?"

"Promise," Harry says, fingers curling around Louis' hand as he reaches for the door.

As soon as they're inside Louis shrugs off his jacket, hangs it away neatly and then just stands there for a second.

Harry who's also hung up his jacket looks at him. "What's up?"

Louis doesn't say anything yet as he takes a step closer, just looking at Harry. Admiring him.

Then Louis closes the distance between them and pushes Harry back against the wall. He puts one hand on the wall next to Harry and cups his cheek with the other hand. Pulls him closer and finally their lips connect.

At first they kiss slowly, hesitant. Searching, as id testing the edge of something they've both longed for but never dared to reach.

Harry's lips part under the gentle pressure of Louis', soft and inviting, and a quiet exhale leaves him when Louis deepens the kiss, just slightly.

Harry's hands slide up Louis's chest, fingers cold through his tshirt. Louis shifts, pressing a little closer, the wall at Harry's back grounding them as their bodies align.

Harry tilts his chin up, willingly giving in, lips parting further as Louis slips his hand around to the back of his neck, fingers curling into soft curls.

Time stretches. The world outside the kiss blurs and vanishes. It's just breath, skin, the slow ache of want building between them.

Harry lets out a low hum as Louis's mouth brushes along his jaw, then lower, to the sensitive spot just beneath his ear, and his knees nearly buckle.

"God, Lou." Harry moans, voice rough around the edge.

"Need you." Louis replies against his mouth, pulling Harry even closer.

Chapter 41: Chapter 38.2 - bonus (cake)

Calum is leaning against the wall, just outside the bar as he watches everybody split up and leave after Stella's birthday celebration.

He casually waves a goodbye to Stella and takes another drag of his cigarette.

Luke approaches him cautiously, not sure if now is the right time, but sure that if he waits any longer, there won't be a right time.

"You got a minute?" Luke asks, quiet but clear.

Calum doesn't look at him at first, just blows out the smoke in painfully slow manner. "Do I have a choice?"

Luke breathes out, almost a humorless laugh. "Probably not."

Luke leans against the wall too, opposite of Calum, who stands a few feet away, arms crossed.

"I talked to Louis about you, us." Luke says. "He told me to talk with you."

"That sounds like Louis."

A beat.

"I miss you," Luke says. Simple. Honest. A punch to the gut.

Calum swallows. Hard. "You don't get to say that like it fixes anything."

"I know. I'm not trying to fix it in one go. I just- I need you to know I didn't sleep with her to hurt you."

"You've told me already. And you did hurt me, though," Calum snaps, voice shaking. "I asked for space. You gave me betrayal."

Luke's voice breaks a little. "You pushed me away."

"I didn't ask you to go find someone else to climb into bed with."

"I didn't know how to wait for you when you wouldn't tell me what the hell you wanted!" Luke's voice is louder now, but not angry. Just raw, emotional. "You shut me out. For weeks. What was I supposed to do with that?"

"Not give up on me!" Calum yells, desperation layering over his posture. "Not give up on us!"

That silences them both.

Luke's hands fall to his sides, trembling slightly. "I didn't give up. I made a mistake. A stupid, selfish mistake. But you've made mistakes too,  Calum. Don't act like this was all one-sided."

Calum looks away, breathing hard. "It's just- I know I said I needed space without really elaborating," He finally starts, "But how- why would you think I meant for that to be permission to move on."

"I didn't think of it like that," Luke says, voice low. "I thought you were already halfway gone."

"Well, I wasn't." Calum looks away, jaw clenched. "I was struggling. I didn't know how to be in it without losing parts of myself."

"I know that now," Luke says. "And I should've known better than to think sleeping with someone else wouldn't destroy whatever we had left. I tried to forget you."

Calum exhales slowly, like he's been holding his breath for weeks. "It's not just the act, Luke. It's what it meant. You didn't fight for me. You didn't even wait to see if I'd come back. Hell, you didn't fucking ask me about it."

"I didn't know how," Luke admits. "I was angry, and hurt, and—fuck, I was scared, Cal. You have this way of going quiet when you're hurting. And I panic when I can't read you."

Calum nods, absently picking at a thread on his jeans. "You used to be able to read me anyway."

"Yeah," Luke says. "I want to get back there."

Another silence stretches out between them. This one heavier, but not hopeless.

"I still love you," Luke speaks up, quieter now. "I never stopped."

Calum blinks fast, jaw tight. "You broke my trust."

"I know."

"I don't know if I can get it back. I can't keep fucking doing this Luke."

Luke nods. "I'll wait. As long as it takes. Even if we never find our way back, I just... I needed you to know."

"Fuck. Fuck Luke, I needed you. I fucking needed you so bad. Why didn't you see that?" Desperation laces his voice as he rubs his eyes.

"I needed you, Luke." Calum turns, finally facing him fully. His expression is softer, but tired. Worn down by months of silence and pretending.

"I-" Luke hesitates.

"You just let me go like that and fucked someone else." Calum's chest heaves like he's been replaying the memories.

Luke doesn't answer right away. He just stands there, mouth slightly open, eyes glossy under the bar's dim streetlight glow. The weight of every bad choice dragging him down.

"I hated myself for it after," He finally says, voice low and rough.

Calum exhales sharply, jaw clenched. "That doesn't fucking mean shit."

"I know," Luke says, not even trying to defend himself. "I'm not trying to fix anything. I just–I didn't want us to disappear without a word tonight. Not like that."

Calum looks at him for a long second, then mutters, "Where are you staying?"

Luke blinks. "Just my place. Just a few blocks over."

Calum nods once. "Walk with me."

It's not a question, and it takes Luke a second to register what's happening, but he falls into step beside Calum like muscle memory.

They walk in silence at first. The kind of silence that hums with everything they're not saying.

Their footsteps echo in the quiet streets, the night thick around them. Calum keeps a few inches of distance, hands shoved deep into his pockets, body tense like he's holding something in, or holding something back.

Luke risks a glance at him. "You don't have to come."

"I know," Calum says without looking over. "I wanted to see if being near you still hurts."

Luke swallows. "And?"

Calum grimaces, bitter. "It does. Just in a different way now."

They reach the corner near Luke's building. He slows as they approach, hesitating like he's not sure what Calum's going to do. Like he's afraid if he moves too fast, Calum will vanish.

Calum doesn't. He follows him up the steps.

Inside, Luke's apartment is quiet, dimly lit, a little messy. A guitar leans against the wall. The air smells faintly of cedar and something burnt from dinner.

Calum stands just inside the doorway, not fully committing to entering. "Place hasn't changed."

Luke rubs the back of his neck, watching him. "Neither have you."

Calum's eyes flick to him. "That's not a compliment."

Luke doesn't argue.

For a second, neither of them move. The silence grows teeth again.

"You know," Calum starts, voice low, "I thought I was gonna come here and slam the door in your face. Scream. Say all the things I've been rehearsing."

"And now?"

Calum shrugs. "Now I just feel tired. And pissed. And more confused than I want to admit."

Luke steps a little closer, careful, like approaching a wild animal. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I just want to be honest with you, finally. Even if it's ugly."

Calum turns toward him, expression unreadable. "It definitely was ugly."

Luke's voice cracks. "I didn't mean to."

"That's the thing, Luke. You never mean to. But it always lands the same."

The tension between them is thick now. Not quite anger, more like grief that's been left to rot too long.

"So." Calum chews out the word, slow and stretching. Voice low, almost casual but something razor-sharp underneath. "How was it?"

"How was what?" Luke looks at him, puzzled.

"The girl you fucked. Was she any good?"

Luke's shoulders sag, "Calum."

Calum looks at him, a dangerous glint playing in his eyes and his voice sharp like a razor. "Answer the damn question, Luke."

Luke winces at his harsh tone, "I- Why does it matter?"

Calum shrugs, putting down a trinket he was looking at. "Was she better than me?"

"God Calum. You were-." Luke stammers, "You're-"

Calum walks past him, deeper into the apartment, eyes scanning old photos on the wall, one of the two of them at a beach, squinting against the sun. A memory that feels like someone else's life.

"Was it worth it?" Calum asks, low and dangerous. "Did she let you fuck so good she made you forget me?"

Luke flinches like he's been punched. His jaw tenses, hands curling into fists at his sides. "No- I don't know. It wasn't like that. It wasn't about that."

Calum turns to him now, eyes dark. "That wasn't the question."

Luke's voice is a whisper. "No. She didn't."

Calum lets that sit for a moment. Then scoffs, cold and tired, like he can not fucking believe this. "Couldn't even get a good fuck out of it."

"You think this is about sex?" Luke asks, voice barely above a whisper. "You think any of that was about someone being better in bed than you?"

Calum doesn't turn around. "I think it was about you not knowing how to sit with the discomfort of me pulling away. So you chased someone who didn't ask you to feel anything."

Silence. Heavy. Bruised.

Luke steps forward, but not too close. "She didn't matter. She didn't even feel real."

Calum's laugh is low and bitter. "Still managed to make it more real than us."

Luke looks stricken. "That's not fair."

"No," Calum simply says. "It's not. None of this is."

He walks toward the window, back still to Luke. "You don't understand what it felt like. Trying to breathe in a space that used to be ours, knowing something cracked and I couldn't find where or when."

"I thought you were done with me," Luke says, quietly. "I thought you were already gone."

"I was trying not to be." Calum turns slowly, finally facing him. "But I needed space to figure out how to stay. You gave me silence and then you gave me that."

Luke opens his mouth, closes it again. "I know I fucked up. I do."

"You didn't just fuck up," Calum says. "You moved on. You didn't wait. You didn't even check."

"I didn't know how," Luke murmurs. "I was angry. Scared. I was trying not to drown."

Calum tilts his head, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "So you threw me overboard instead?"

Luke swallows hard, his voice breaking around the edges. "I didn't mean to."

"That's the thing with you," Calum says. "You never mean to. But it still happens."

Another silence falls between them, heavier now, like neither of them knows what to do with the space.

"I still love you," Luke says softly. "I didn't stop."

Calum closes his eyes like he's trying not to feel the words. "You keep saying that."

"Because it's still true."

"And what do you want me to do with it?" Calum sarcastically smiles, voice rough. "Frame it? Wear it like a patch over everything that hurts?"

Luke steps forward. Carefully. Like every inch matters. "No. I just want to be honest. Finally. Even if it's too late."

Calum studies him for a moment, then slowly sinks down onto the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. "You're right. It might be."

Luke doesn't move at first, then takes the spot beside him. Not touching. Just there.

The room feels thick with everything they've said and haven't said.

They sit like that, side by side but miles apart.

Calum looks down at his hands. "You know what hurts the most?"

Luke shakes his head.

"I kept hoping you'd come find me. That you'd fight. Even once." He laughs, hollow. "But maybe that's my mistake. I thought we were worth more than one bad patch."

"We were," Luke says. "We still are."

"I don't know if I believe that," Calum says. "But I want to, God I really want to."

Luke glances at him, eyes hopeful but cautious. "Then let's start there."

For a moment it's silent until Luke speaks up again. "I never meant for this to happen."

Calum flinches like he's been slapped, the corner of his lips turning down. "You don't get to keep fucking saying that like it's some kind of apology, it's getting old."

"I'm not saying it to be forgiven," Luke says. "I'm saying it because it's still true and I need you to know."

Calum takes a slow breath, the kind you take before diving into cold water. "I don't know what this is. I don't know if it's the end or just the fallout."

Luke steps closer. Close enough to reach, but doesn't. "It's whatever you want it to be."

Calum doesn't move. Doesn't speak.

Eventually, he nods toward the couch. "Sit. Let's talk."

Luke's shoulders drop, tension bleeding out. "Yeah. Okay."

But as Calum sits and Luke follows, the air between them remains taut, like one wrong word could snap it all in half again. Still, for the first time in a while, they're in the same space again. Just them.

Calum sinks into the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He doesn't look at Luke, but his presence feels louder now, in the silence of the apartment.

Luke moves slowly, sitting on the armrest nearby instead of beside him, giving Calum space he's not sure he wants but knows he needs to offer.

Luke rubs a hand over his face, voice softer now. "I haven't been sleeping."

Calum raises an eyebrow, not quite biting, but wary. "Yeah?"

Luke nods, not trying to make it sound dramatic. Just true. "Not really since you left. And I'm not saying that to guilt you. I just... I haven't had a full night in weeks."

Calum glances at him then, searching his face. "Why are you telling me this?"

Luke hesitates. "Because you always made it easier."

Calum scoffs, low and flat. "You think me being here's gonna magically make you rest again?"

"No," Luke says, honest. "Not magically. Just... I always slept better with you around. Even when things were shit. Even when we didn't talk much."

That quiet hangs heavy in the room.

Luke continues, like the words are dragging out of him. "I'm not asking for anything more than that. I know things are still wrecked between us. But if you don't want to go back out tonight, if it's too much, or if you just...want to sleep on the couch or something. I'd be okay with that. Actually, I think I'd sleep for once."

Calum doesn't respond right away. His eyes drop to the rug beneath his feet, jaw tight. "You're not trying to turn this into something else?"

Luke shakes his head quickly. "No. I swear. I just... miss the quiet we used to have. The kind where it didn't hurt."

Calum leans back, exhaling through his nose, then looks up at the ceiling like it might give him answers.

"I'll take the couch," he says after a long pause, his voice unreadable. "But just for tonight."

Luke nods, relief flickering across his features, so raw and visible it makes Calum's stomach twist.

And without really noticing, their hands find their way to each other. Soft, hesitantly.

Luke intertwines their fingers, brushes his lips over Calum's knuckles for just a moment before dropping their hands onto the couch again.

Calum's fingers tighten around Luke's just a fraction, the small spark of contact igniting a slow burn beneath his skin. His pulse picks up, the air suddenly thick with everything they haven't said, and everything they're too afraid to say aloud.

Luke's eyes hold his, dark and intense, like he's searching for a crack in Calum's walls. His voice is low, raw. "I've wanted this- wanted you, since the moment you walked out that door."

Calum swallows hard, heart thudding in his ears. The space between them feels charged, electric. Every small movement magnified.

Luke's hand slides up slowly from Calum's fingers to rest on his wrist, thumb tracing slow, light circles. The warmth of his skin sends a ripple of heat through Calum's chest.

Calum's breath catches. His gaze flicks down to Luke's hand, then back up, as if finding something vulnerable and desperate there.

Without thinking, Calum leans in just a fraction, their faces closer now than they've been in a long time. The faint scent of Luke's cologne, a mix of cedar and something soft, fills his senses.

Luke's breath hitches, eyes fluttering closed briefly before locking with Calum's again.

Calum's voice is barely a whisper. "I don't know if I'm ready..."

Luke's smile is slow, teasing, but there's no cruelty in it, only the raw need of someone who's been waiting too long. "I'm not asking for ready. Just for here. For now."

Calum's chest rises and falls faster, the heat of Luke's gaze like a flame just shy of touching skin.

Luke moves a little closer, enough that their knees brush, the contact electric.

Calum's hand twitches, then moves to rest lightly on Luke's forearm. It's a tentative claim, a question.

Luke's eyes darken, a slow, almost unbearable intensity settling in.

"I want you," he says, voice rough and close. "Not just your body. Not just the memories. I want all of it. Even the mess."

Calum swallows, heart pounding loud in his ears.

His own voice comes out low, breathless. "Fuck, Luke..."

The space between them shrinks until it feels like the whole world is nothing but the heat of their shared breaths and the slow, simmering pull that's been building for a while.

Luke's hand slides up, fingers brushing a stray curl from Calum's temple, lingering on the skin just a moment longer.

Calum leans in, so his forehead rests against Luke's, and for a moment, it feels like the world holds its breath.

His eyes flutter shut. He's not ready, not really. His heart's still bruised, still a little cracked in places Luke can't see. But Luke's breath is warm against his cheek, steady and close, and it makes something dangerous stir inside him.

Don't do this, a part of him whispers. Don't get soft again. Don't fall into him just because it feels like home.

But God, it does feel like home. That specific brand of quiet between them. The way Luke touches him like he's memorizing the shape of want.

Calum can feel Luke's hand trailing lightly down his jaw now, a touch that shouldn't feel this gentle, not after everything, but it does. It makes his stomach twist in the most maddening way.

He lets out a shaky breath. This is how he breaks you, his thoughts warn. Not loud. Not quick. Slowly. With sweetness. With apologies and eyes like that.

Luke's hand stills on his jaw, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth like he's thinking about kissing him — but waiting, holding back, letting Calum decide.

Calum's body aches with how much he wants it. Wants to stop thinking, stop bracing for the next hurt. He wants to lose himself in Luke again, just for a moment, to taste something that used to be so easy.

But his mind won't quiet.

You let him in once, and he didn't catch you when you fell. What makes you think this time's different?

Still, his fingers curl around the edge of Luke's shirt, just above the waistband, like he can't help it. Like his body's already decided what his heart is still afraid of.

Luke feels it, the shift. His breath catches, and he leans in just a touch more, lips almost brushing Calum's, not kissing, just letting the tension crackle between them.

"I'm right here," Luke murmurs, like a vow. "I'm not going anywhere."

Calum's eyes open, hazy and glassy with emotion. He doesn't pull back, doesn't move forward either. He's hovering in that moment where everything could happen, or nothing.

"I'm not ready. I don't know if I can survive it again," he breathes. "If you do this and then leave."

Luke's thumb grazes the pulse point beneath Calum's jaw. "Then I won't leave."

The promise terrifies him more than silence would.

But still, Luke leans forward. Not a kiss, not yet, just a press of his lips against Calum cheek, soft and lingering. It's tentative, but it's honest. A permission. A test.

Calum turns his head slightly, so slowly, so hesitant.

He wants to lean in. God, he does. But every time he gets close, he remembers how it felt waking up alone. Again.

The room is quiet, the kind of quiet that isn't peace, it's weight. Calum hasn't let go of Luke's hand, not really. His fingers are still curled around Luke's, and his breath still stutters slightly every time Luke's thumb moves across his knuckles.

There's music somewhere in the background. Low. A song neither of them are listening to but both are feeling.

Luke shifts closer, barely enough to matter, but Calum notices. Of course he notices. His whole body feels like it's anticipating something it doesn't know how to survive.

Luke's voice is quiet, just above a whisper. "I keep thinking about the way you used to sleep. Curled up, pressed into me like you were afraid I'd disappear."

Calum's breath catches, sharp and instinctive.

Luke doesn't stop. "You'd hook your leg over mine, bury your face in my neck. You'd hum in your sleep, like the sound grounded you."

Calum looks away. "Luke."

But Luke's already leaning in again, brushing his knuckles lightly across Calum's jaw, like he can coax the past out of him if he's gentle enough. His fingers trail down Calum's throat, pausing just above his collar.

"Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night and just... watch you breathe. I'd think, God, if he ever leaves, I'll never get over it."

His hand slips lower, not rushed, not rough, just sliding along the edge of Calum's shirt where skin begins. Warm. Familiar. Too much.

"Let me just... hold you again. Just for a bit. You don't have to say anything. You don't even have to want it. Just-"

Calum pulls back like he's been slapped.

Luke freezes.

Calum's expression shifts in a flash — the haze of want replaced with something sharper. Defensive. Hurt.

"Don't," he says, his voice rough. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Luke whispers, but already knowing.

"Use my body like an apology."

Luke's mouth opens, searching for something to say, something to soften the edge he just nicked. But there's no way to walk it back. Not really.

"I thought-" Luke starts, helpless. "I didn't mean to push you."

"You always don't mean to, you've said that a hundred fucking times tonight," Calum cuts in, voice low but sharp. "You keep saying things that sound like love and then you reach for me like it's yours to take. Like none of what you did matters."

Luke looks stricken, his hand halfway between them like it forgot what to do.

"I wasn't trying to pressure you."

"No?" Calum snaps. "Because that's exactly what it fucking felt like."

The space between them is ruined now — not with hate, but disappointment. That slow, sinking kind that follows hope too quickly.

"I let myself feel something again, I told you I wasn't ready." Calum says, barely holding it together. "And you made it about comfort. About you."

Luke swallows hard. "I just wanted—"

"I know what you wanted," Calum interrupts, voice trembling. "You wanted to pretend it's like it used to be. Like we're still allowed to touch without asking."

He stands, running a hand through his hair like he needs to shake off the weight of what almost happened.

"I came here because I thought maybe... maybe there was a chance we could talk. That we could try." His voice falters. "But not if you keep reaching before I'm ready."

Luke's sitting back now, visibly smaller somehow, like the guilt has collapsed his spine.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I got lost in it. In you."

Calum doesn't answer right away. He paces toward the window, jaw tight, eyes glassy but not falling apart.

Finally, without looking back he throws the words into the room. "I'm gonna go. I can't do this tonight."

Luke's breath catches. "Cal, please."

"Don't." It's firm. Final.

He turns, grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. Doesn't meet Luke's eyes.

"Next time you want to be close to me, ask first."

And then the door opens. Closes.

Leaving behind only the silence. And the ghost of what almost was.

Chapter 42: Chapter 39

tw: smut

Time stretches. The world outside the kiss blurs and vanishes. It's just breath, skin, the slow ache of want building between them.

Harry lets out a low hum as Louis's mouth brushes along his jaw, then lower, to the sensitive spot just beneath his ear, and his knees nearly buckle.

"God, Lou." Harry moans, voice rough around the edge.

"Need you." Louis replies against his mouth, pulling Harry even closer.

Harry chest heaves as he feels Louis' press his abdomen into him. He leans his head a bit to the side as to let Louis have more access to his neck.

"Fuck you're so-" Louis mumbles against his neck, his hot breath sending thrills down Harry's spine.

Louis' fingers curl around the hem of Harry's shirt, then travel up to his chest. They feel cold against his hot skin as they finally settle on the curve of Harry's waist, just beneath his shirt.

After a moment Louis connects their lips again, goosebumps arise on Harry's skin as he feels the desperation, the want, lingering underneath the kiss.

And Harry can't do anything about it but he feels like jelly underneath Louis' touch. Like, he'd do everything for him at this point.

They break apart for a breath and Louis grins up at Harry, who's completely flushed, his lips red. "You like that?"

Harry tries to pull Louis back into a kiss but Louis stops him with a hand on his chest. "Come."

Oh. That's something that Harry would want, yeah.

Louis' fingers curl around the waistband of Harry's jeans and tugs him along like that. Harry wants to make way to his room but Louis pulls him further, to his own room.

"Your room?" Harry asks, disbelief lacing his voice as they enter the room. It smells undeniably like Louis, manly, musky and somewhat woody.

The curtains are halfway closed, creating a dusky atmosphere.

They haven't been there together in a while, hell, Harry thinks they've never been there together at all. At least not for sleeping, nor for sucking the other off. So, it feels special.

"Yes, my room." Louis mumbles as he's busy fiddling with the buttons on Harry's shirt. He's too impatient, balancing on the edge of opening them normally or ripping it open.

Harry hides a smile on his lips as he helps him open them. As soon as it's off Louis carelessly throws it in a corner of his room, like he didn't sing praises about it earlier tonight.

They both kick off his shoes and Louis steps out of his jeans in such a rushed manner Harry can't even keep up. Finally they're both in their boxers.

"Fuck me, you're so beautiful." Louis whistles between his teeth, eyeing Harry's bare chest before closing the gap between them again. His bulge pressing against Harry.

He walks them backwards until Harry's knees bend against the bed, causing him to fall down on the bed.

"Right where I want you." Louis hums, climbing on the bed. He lodges one knee between Harry's legs so it's pressing against his core and the other on the outside of his legs.

He bends down to kiss Harry on the lips again, it's rough but passionate. Heated breaths and tongues twisting.

Harry gasps into the kiss when Louis reaches down his hand to cup Harry's member through his boxers. "Fuuck." He groans into Louis' mouth as he arches his back, trying to lean into the touch.

Louis smirks against his lips, "So needy."

This dominant side of Louis is relatively new to Harry, as most times he took control of Louis in the bedroom, but he can't say he doesn't like it. It's turning him on so much it's starting to actually hurt.

"Fuck, Lou." Harry pants, rolling his hips against Louis' hand, as to seek out some relief. "Need you."

Louis breaks their kiss for a moment as he leans back a little to look down on Harry from above, admiring the way his body seems to be jelly underneath his touch.

A desperate, needy Harry squirms beneath his gaze.

He flicks his tongue over his bottom lip as he keeps his eyes on Harry. "Do you have any idea of what you're doing to me?"

His voice is low, dangerous and sends shivers down Harry's spine while at the same time getting him even more needy.

"I need to feel you around me," Louis continues, as he runs his fingers dangerously close to Harry's painfully excited member. "Can you do that for me?"

"Please." Harry whines as he bucks his hips onto Louis' leg again. "I'm all yours."

Louis smirks, a dangerous glint playing in his eyes. "Damn right you are."

He bites down on his bottom lip as he takes just a second longer to admire the man beneath him. "Take off your boxers."

The dominant tone in his voice makes Harry hurry, lifting his ass off the sheets to slide off the boxers immediately.

Louis bends down to connect their lips again, but soon leaving Harry's lips to make their way down his body. He sucks and licks on the tender skin in Harry's neck, soon trailing down his chest.

Louis stops moving for a moment when he attacks the skin of Harry's breastbone, the dip on his chest. "Fuck you're so-" He doesn't continue because he's already licking and kissing down on the skin again, lightly scraping his teeth over the skin.

Harry's mind is spinning, he feels Louis everywhere and it's not nearly enough. "Lou." He manages to bring out.

"Hm?" Louis asks, trailing his lips down to Harry's lower abdomen, the vibration of his voice against him creating heat beneath his skin.

"Please." Harry begs, not even sure what he's begging for at this point. Just, he knows he wants Louis.

Louis hands make its way to cup Harry's ass, he kneads the skin as he's nearing Harry's dick with his mouth.

Harry gulps as Louis suddenly jerks him towards the edge of the bed, granting him better access to everything he wants right now. "Fuck."

"Fuck indeed." Louis smirks as he curls his fingers around Harry's dick, letting his thumb merely teasingly fly over the top.

"Lou." Harry whines again, seemingly one of the only words that can come over his lips in this moment.

"Can I-?" Louis' tone says he already knows the answer but still, he asks. The motion of his other hand is suggestive, trailing carelessly somewhere between Harry's ass cheeks. The touch setting him on fire everywhere.

"Yeees, fuck, you can. Please." Harry drags out the words, voice shaky due to want, need.

Louis smirks, as he retreats his touch from Harry for a second. "Very well then."

He can swear he hears Harry whimper behind him, fucking whimper, when he turns around to grab lube from his night stand. So, Louis crashes his lips against Harry's within a heart beat.

Desperation in his kiss as he softly bites down on Harry's lips, his hands roaming over Harry's body.

Harry grabs onto Louis' waist tightly, pulling his still clothed member against his own, exposed one. Making Louis groan into his mouth.

"Fuck Harry." He exhales against his lips, clearly just as wound up as Harry.

And then everything just speeds up a tad, there's desperation, want, need in every movement.

Louis grabs the lube and covers two digits with it. He grins as he finds Harry intently watching his movements from beneath him.

He decides to tease him just a little more, so he makes sure every last bit of his fingers is covered, coating it with the lube, by curling his thumb and index finger from his other hand around the two now lubed up fingers.

Moving the fingers up and down, as if mimicking a jerking off motion. Harry's mouth falls open, "Louis."

Louis slows down the movement, so damn teasing, clearly seeing Harry fall apart from need.

He lets the lubed up fingers go and wipes the lube on his other hand onto Harry's stomach. He feels the heat radiating off the skin.

"Turn around." He commands, staring down Harry.

And Harry obeys, immediately. He's on his stomach within a second. Louis positions a pillow beneath him so his ass is a bit higher up in the air, so it’s perfectly on display for him. His dick pressed between the pillow and his stomach.

"Look at you all fucking needy for me." Louis mumbles, touching the rim of Harry's asshole with one finger. "Can I?"

Harry whimpers as he turns halfway around, grabbing Louis finger and impatiently pushes it all the way down into his hole. Gasping at the motion, his other hand grasps the sheets tightly, knuckles whitening.

"Guess thats a yes." Louis smirks as he immediately starts moving his finger around, slowly at first but getting high of Harry's moans he keeps speeding up.

In. Out. In, curling around the rim and out again.

"More." Harry cries out in pleasure, pushing his hips up to meet Louis' touch. "More, please."

And fuck it, Louis slides the other finger in without hesitation, severely enjoying watching Harry fall apart with his touch.

Louis works his fingers like he's got rent due. Pushing and curling and turning inside of Harry's hole. "Fuck, you're being so good for me."

Harry can only whine in return, clearly wanting more as he starts to push his ass up against Louis' fingers again. "Louis."

Louis suddenly takes his fingers out completely, leaving Harry's hole exposed and pulsing.

"Fuuck, Louis, please." Harry starts to plead, moving his hips against the pillow to seek some relief for his aching dick, but stops with a gasp as he feels Louis' tongue on his hole.

"Mhm, oh, fuck yes." He moans into the covers, his body constantly begging for more.

Louis laps and breathes and thrusts with his tongue, wanting to get Harry so fucking ready for him. His fingers dig into the soft skin of Harry's hips, pulling him onto his tongue.

"I think I'm gonna-" Harry starts.

Immediately Louis is off of Harry, "Fuck no."

The loss of his touch making Harry feel empty, but his hole throbbing for more. He needs it filled. He looks back at Louis, eyes pleading, noticing Louis thoroughly lubing up his member.

"You're gonna cum when I say so." Louis bites out, pushing Harry's head down in the covers again and if it's even possible, Harry gets even more riled up from his dominant act.

"Okay." Harry whines, "I need-"

"My cock to fill up that slutty fucking hole of yours?" Louis asks, sarcastic sweetness dripping off his voice. "That can be arranged."

And with that said he roughly slams his cock into Harry without wasting another second, stretching him out completely at once. "Fuck me, you're so tight."

Harry can only gasp for air as Louis hits just the right spots, and when Louis pulls back out a little he's immediately wanting more.

Louis pushes back in again and repeats it with such force Harry's having a hard time to breathe. "Fuck H."

"Fuuck you're so good." Louis digs his fingers deeper into Harry's sides as he slams in and out of Harry's hole.

Their moans and breathes and slapping of skin against each other the only audible things in the room for a moment.

Harry's just a mess beneath him, whining and moaning into the covers. Riding almost on the edge. "Fuck I'm gonna-"

Louis immediately slows down the movement, "Yeah no."

He slows down to a painfully, excruciating rhythm, making Harry whine, push his ass back against Louis seeking more. Wanting to feel that relief dangling in front of his face.

"Love how I fill you up so fucking well." Louis grits through his teeth, pushing Harry's hips against him so he's as deep in as possible.

And filled up Harry's feels indeed.

He's never had such a big cock in him, closing the walls around it like he usually liked to do is barely possible, as it's already stretching them.

"Fuck it." Louis groans, as he speeds up the motion again. His hands even tighter around Harry's waist, thrusting in and out of him at such a high speed Harry feels like he's going to get burn marks inside his walls.

The pleasure tolls around in Harry's mind, getting so filled up and Louis is hitting every spot right is getting too much. He's building up to his climax quickly.

"Louis." He moans, his sentence pushed out between every thrust of Louis into him. "I can't hold it for longer. Need to come."

"Wait until I say you can." Louis groans, keeping repeatedly pushing in and out of Harry. He's chasing his own high as his thrusts become more sloppy, he's near.

"Louis." Harry wails, his voice barely audible to Louis. He needs relief so painfully bad, his arm starts to make its way to his own cock.

But Louis immediately grabs ahold of his hand, and pushes it down with such force into the bed, Harry's sure it'll bruise. "Don't."

"Louis please." Harry begs, his voice so desperate, so full of need.

Louis leaves his hole for a moment to roll him over quickly, then pushes both Harry's legs up against Harry's chest, as he's repositioning his cock against his entrance. Immediately thrusting into him with the same force as before.

Louis groans, pushing in so fucking deep again, it's making Harry's eyes roll to the back of his head of pleasure again. "Wanna see you when you come for me baby."

And with such a deep groan from somewhere deep within him, Harry does. He has tears in his eyes as he feels the orgasm finally ripple over him, his cock shooting out its load onto his stomach. "Fuck fuuck fuck." He pants out, seeing bright colors and waves in his vision.

Louis still thrusts into him, but not for long as the walls of Harry's hole tighten even more around his dick because of his orgasm. A couple more thrusts with his cock so deep buried in Harry, he's seeing stars in his vision. He's nearing his orgasm as well.

And the sight of Harry coming completely undone beneath him, his glistening seed dripping off his sides onto the covers. His face in such euphoria, mouth agape, makes that Louis with one last deep push rides into his own orgasm as well.

"Fuck H, fuck you're so good." He lowly groans out as his cock throbs in Harry's hole, feeling his load filling him up even more. Harry's hole pulses against his cock, letting some of his load drip down over his skin.

He exhales as his chest heaves, he moves his fingers off of Harry's sides, showing the deep red marks he's clawed there while fucking him.

He traces them over Harry's stomach, through the warm seed covering it. He scoops some of it up and brings it to his mouth, maintaining intense eye contact as he lets his tongue flick over his fingers. Licking up the sweet taste of Harry.

"Lou." Is the only thing Harry can bring out, he's lying there in pure bliss as he watches Louis scoop up every last bit of his load.

Louis then softly moves his cock out of Harry's hole, watching in awe as it pulses out his own seed. He brings his finger up to Harry's ass again and scoops up some of his own load.

He bends down leaning onto one arm beside Harry's head, as he lets his other hand covered in cum trace Harry's lips. "Open."

And Harry immediately obeys.

Louis pushes in two fingers, making Harry taste his seed as he closes his lips around Louis' fingers, sucking onto them.

"Fuck. You're so hot." Louis groans into Harry's ear. "So good at sucking, aren't you."

Harry blissfully smiles up at him, with that unfocused post-orgasm gaze in his eyes. "Thank you." He exhales.

Louis grins, letting his fingers tease Harry's rim again. "Bet that felt good having your filthy ass so fucking filled up, didn't it?"

"Louis." Harry moans, throwing his head back, looking like he's on the edge. "So sensitive."

Harry's chest was still rising fast when Louis tucked a hand gently behind his neck, thumb tracing lazy circles into the damp curls there. The room was quiet now but for their breathing, the low hum of the fan, and the settling creak of the bedsprings.

"You're alright, yeah?" Louis asks, voice quiet, lips brushing Harry's temple as he spoke. Not demanding, not worried, just checking. Just there.

Harry gives a slow nod, eyes still closed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." His voice hoarse, soft in that post-high haze.

Louis reaches over the side of the bed and pulls the throw blanket up from the floor, draping it over them both.

Then, with a soft touch, he brushes a strand of hair from Harry's forehead, still a little sweaty. Still beautiful.

"You were so good for me," Louis murmurs. He presses a kiss just above Harry's eyebrow, lingering. "So, so good."

"Because you were in me." Harry's lips twitch into a lazy smile.

Louis smirks, "You felt amazing. Next time we'll go for two rounds."

Harry breathes out a laugh, as he leans his head onto Louis' shoulder. "Barely survived this one."

"C'mon H. Let's get you cleaned up." Louis says, helping him stand up, a bit wobbly in his blissful state.

The bathroom fills with steam, the soft hiss of the shower blending with the quiet. Louis steps under the spray first, letting the hot water run down his spine. He holds a hand out behind him.

"Come on," Louis says. "Let me take care of you."

Harry moves slowly, a little dazed, eyes soft and faraway. He steps in, flinching slightly at the heat, but Louis is there instantly, guiding him close with steady hands.

"There we go," Louis murmurs, pressing a kiss to the slope of Harry's shoulder. "Just let go. I've got you."

He pumps body wash into his hands and works it into a lather, then smooths it over Harry's chest in slow, careful circles. His touch isn't rushed, it's soothing, intentional. Harry leans in, eyes fluttering shut as he rests his forehead against Louis's.

They don't speak much. They don't need to.

Louis rinses the soap away and runs his hands down Harry's arms, over his sides, grounding him in every pass. He cups the back of Harry's neck and strokes his fingers through wet curls, then gently turns him around to wash his back.

The water drums quietly over them, but all Louis pays attention to is the feel of Harry breathing steady again.

"Doing alright?" He asks softly, his lips brushing behind Harry's ear.

Harry nods, then exhales a shaky breath. "Fuck yeah. Thank you."

Louis kisses the nape of his neck, firm and warm. "Always," He whispers.

They stay there for a while, wrapped in heat and quiet, Louis holding him from behind, the water washing away everything else.

Chapter 43: Chapter 40

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

Louis lies still, staring at the ceiling, his chest tight under the weight of something he can't quite name.

Harry's warmth is at his side, an arm thrown lazily across Louis' stomach, like it belongs there.

Like he belongs here.

But Louis' mind is already slipping into that place. The place that tells him this won't last. That nothing good ever does.

He hates feeling like this, when he should be remembering every little thing about yesterday but instead it eats away at his insides. That gnawing feeling deep inside his gut.

Harry shifts, murmurs something soft in his sleep, and nuzzles closer. He looks wrecked in the most beautiful way, curls messy, skin flushed in places only Louis has ever kissed, touched and claimed.

And still, Louis can't stop the ache in his chest.

Because last night was, fuck, it was everything.

He enjoyed it through and through.

Harry, all open and trembling beneath him, eyes wide with trust and need. It felt holy, like something sacred they built between the spaces where words failed. For a few hours, Louis let himself believe he was wanted. Needed. Loved maybe.

But morning always comes.

And now that it has, the silence feels suffocating.

Louis' brain is already screaming that this is temporary. That he'll ruin this too. He'll leave, just like the rest. That he'll think he's not enough to keep someone like him.

Harry stirs again, blinking awake slowly. His voice is soft, thick with sleep. "Hey, you okay?"

Louis forces a smile, nods too quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, just tired."

He watches as Harry stretches, then shifts closer, lips brushing Louis' collarbone. "Last night was- It was everything."

Louis swallows hard. He wants to say it back. Wants to say that he thinks so too. Wants to curl into Harry's arms and believe he's safe there. But instead he just nods, afraid that speaking might crack him open.

Harry doesn't press. He just lies there beside him, fingers drawing slow circles on Louis' chest. Trusting. Calm.

And Louis hates that part of him already wants to run. That the intimacy, the realness, makes him feel exposed instead of secure.

But he doesn't move. Not yet.

For once, he lets Harry stay close. Lets the moment last a little longer. Even if his heart is terrified it won't.

They've made it to the kitchen, somehow. Louis is leaning against the counter, clutching a chipped cup of tea with both hands like it's holding him together. Harry stands near the stove, barefoot and shirtless, fussing with scrambled eggs that neither of them really want.

It's quiet, except for the soft clink of the pan and the occasional creak of the old floorboards beneath them.

Louis can feel the words clawing at the back of his throat. He keeps his eyes on his mug.

Harry finally glances over. "You're really quiet," he says gently. "Did I do something wrong?"

Louis shakes his head, that gnawing feeling inside him just a tad more present. "No. No, it's not you."

Harry pauses, spatula hovering mid-air. "Then what is it?"

Louis exhales sharply. The panic's right there, behind his ribs, the familiar urge to deflect, to laugh it off, to shut the door before anyone sees too much. But it's Harry. And Harry's still here.

So he says it. Not looking at him. Barely above a whisper.

"I can't believe you let me do that."

Harry turns fully now, brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Louis shrugs, eyes still fixed on the mug. "Last night. You just, like, trusted me. Completely. Like it was nothing."

Harry's quiet for a second. "It wasn't nothing, Louis. Not even close."

Louis bites the inside of his cheek. "You say that now."

"I mean that now."

Louis finally looks at him. His voice cracks when he speaks. "You don't get it. People don't stay, Harry. They get close, they see all the messy shit in my head and they go. Every time."

Harry takes a step closer. "I'm not them."

"You say that too," Louis whispers, "But what if I fuck this up? What if I already did?"

Harry sets the spatula down and crosses the room. He stops in front of Louis, close enough that their toes almost touch.

"You didn't," He says. "Last night wasn't some performance. It wasn't about control, or proving something, or whatever you think you did wrong."

Louis blinks fast. His throat's too tight to answer.

Harry's voice is quiet, but steady. "I wanted you to take me. Hell, I want all of you. And I still do."

‘He wanted you to take him’ is the only thing replaying in Louis mind after.

Louis looks at him like he's trying to memorize him. Like he's afraid Harry will vanish if he blinks.

"Why?" He asks, voice cracking. "Why would you stay?"

Because he's already left once right? It would be so easy to just-

Louis blinks, trying to ban away the thoughts.

Harry's hand reaches for his, slow and certain. Fingers lacing together like they did in the dark hours of the night.

"Because you make me feel safe," Harry says, voice soft. "Even when you don't feel safe in yourself. And I'm not going anywhere."

Louis nods, barely holding it together.

He doesn't say thank you, or I love you, or please stay, not yet.

But he lets Harry pull him in, lets his forehead rest against Harry's collarbone, and lets his fingers grip the back of Harry's shirt like it's the only solid thing left.

They stand there for a while, Louis pressed to Harry's chest, Harry holding him like he never plans to let go.

The eggs are forgotten. The tea's gone cold. And the silence between them isn't heavy anymore, just full.

Eventually, Louis steps back, just a little. His eyes are still red-rimmed but he seems steadier now. "Sorry," he mutters. "Didn't mean to fall apart on you."

Harry gives him a soft smile. "You didn't fall apart. You told the truth. That's different."

Louis scoffs, glancing down at his hands. "Yeah, well. My truth's a bit of a mess."

Harry tilts his head, eyes searching Louis' face. "You really think I don't see that? That I didn't see it last night?"

Louis flinches at the words. He still can't say it out loud. Last night. It's easier to pretend it was a blur, a heat-of-the-moment thing, too fast to mean anything.

But Harry remembers everything.

"You were shaking," he says softly. "Not just your hands. Your voice, your breathing. Like it was almost too much for you. Even when you had the, uh, situation perfectly in control.”

Louis looks away. "I shouldn't have-"

Harry steps closer. "You asked me like a million times if it was okay to continue. You checked in even when I was begging you not to stop." His voice stays calm, but there's something sharp under it, something true. "You made me feel like I mattered. Like I was safe. I've never had that before, Louis."

Louis' eyes shoot up at that.

Harry takes a breath. "So don't you dare stand there and act like you did something wrong. Like you ruined it. Because it was the best night of my fucking life."

Louis' mouth parts, but nothing comes out.

"I know you're scared," Harry says. "I know you think people leave when they see the real you. But I see it. All of it. Every scar, every fear you try to hide behind that smart mouth and careful touch."

He steps in again, slow, sure. His voice drops.

"And I'm still here."

Louis blinks, throat tight. "You don't have to stay."

Harry gives him a sad smile. "Yeah. But I want to. And I know you want me to."

Silence stretches between them again, but this time it feels different. Like something's cracked, in the best way. Like fresh air finally seeping into a room that's been locked too long.

Louis looks at him. Really looks. His voice comes quieter than before.

"You remember everything?"

Harry nods.

Louis hesitates. Then says, barely audible, "Even when I called you beautiful?"

Harry's smile softens, almost reverent. "Especially that part."

Louis laughs, just a little. Like it surprises him. Then his face crumples again, not from fear this time, but something closer to relief.

He reaches across the counter and takes Harry's hand.

"Okay," he says.

Harry frowns, gently. "Okay?"

Louis nods. "I'm not good at this. But if you're staying, I want you to."

Harry squeezes his hand. "Then I'm not going anywhere."

And Louis believes it.

Maybe not completely. Maybe not yet.

But for the first time in a long time, he wants to try.

-

The sky outside is bleeding into dusk, that bluish-grey wash of late evening. The film's still playing, mostly forgotten. Harry's half-asleep, curled into Louis on the couch, cheek pressed to his chest. Their hands are still tangled. Everything's soft. Still. Safe.

They've spent the whole day tangled up in each other, in the comfort of their own flat.

Louis is just starting to believe this might last.

And then his phone buzzes.

He nearly ignores it, most people know not to call him this late unless it's important. But when he shifts and sees the name, it's Luke. Blinking at the screen, his stomach knots immediately.

Luke never calls this late.

"Sorry," Louis murmurs, untangling himself gently from Harry's limbs. "It's Luke. Gotta take it."

Harry nods sleepily, concern flickering in his eyes as he sits up, tucking his legs beneath him.

Louis answers. "Luke?"

He barely gets the word out before he hears it, Luke's crying. Not just sniffling or choked up. Full-on broken, guttural sobs that punch through the phone.

"Louis." Luke gasps, voice shredded. "I- I fucked it up. I fucked everything up, and I think he's really gone this time."

Louis sits up straighter, heart thudding. "Okay. Hey. Breathe for me, yeah? What happened?"

Harry rises wordlessly, disappears into the kitchen to give him space, but not too far.

Luke tries, but it takes a moment. "He came over last night. After Stella's birthday. Said he missed me, but- But not in that way yet. He wasn't ready."

Louis closes his eyes, already piecing it together.

"And I-" Luke's voice breaks. "I wanted it to be like before, you know? Like if I could just touch him again, he'd remember what we had. So I touched him. And I said things. And he froze. He just froze."

Louis exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. "And he left."

Luke makes a sound like he's trying not to be sick. "He said he wasn't ready and I still pushed. Then he just walked out. And I haven't heard from him since. He's not answering."

"Luke..." Louis' voice is gentle but firm. "You know you pushed him."

"I know, I know, I just-" Luke sobs again. "It's like I needed to feel something with him again, anything, or I was gonna fall apart. And now I think I've really lost him. For good."

Louis lets the silence settle, not to punish him, but to let the weight of it land.

"You hurt him," he says quietly. "Even if you didn't mean to. You didn't give him the space he asked for."

"I know." Luke sounds so small. "God, I'm so fucking stupid. I slept with someone else and he still came back to try. And I ruined it. Again."

Louis swallows hard. He remembers that kind of panic, when someone's halfway out the door and you'll do anything, even the wrong thing, just to get them to stay.

"I'm not gonna lie to you," He says. "You might've done damage you can't undo. But you've gotta let him feel whatever he's feeling. You don't get to chase him down just because you're scared."

Silence. Just Luke's broken breathing.

"But," Louis adds, softer now, "You're not alone. You've got me. You hear me? You're not doing this part on your own."

Luke doesn't answer at first. Then, finally, a whisper: "Can I come over?"

Louis glances toward the kitchen. Harry's standing there with a glass of water in his hands, watching him quietly, eyes full of understanding.

Louis gives him a look, eyes silently asking Is it okay?

Harry just nods, without hesitation. Of course.

"Yeah," Louis says into the phone. "Come here. We'll figure it out."

-

The doorbell rings, sharp and sudden in the quiet. The flat is dim now, all the lights off except the one over the stove. Louis pads across the floor in his socks, heart already knowing who it is before he opens the door.

He opens it to find Luke standing there, hood up, eyes red, looking like a kicked dog.

Harry's already clearing the couch, grabbing a blanket.

Luke doesn't say anything. Just walks in and folds into Louis without a word.

Louis holds him tight. Lets his hand caress Luke's head. The warm light of the hallway illuminating the blondes hair.

Because Louis knows what it means, to push someone too far, to be terrified you broke the only thing that ever felt like home.

And he also knows how much it matters to have someone stay anyway.

Harry doesn't interrupt. He just sets the blanket on the edge of the couch and gently places the water on the coffee table.

Then he lingers for a second, watching the way Louis cradles Luke like something fragile, like something worth saving.

Harry's heart aches. Not just for Luke, but also for Calum.

Because if Luke is this broken, then Calum must be..

God.

He steps away quietly, slipping back into the kitchen. The overhead light hums, too bright for the hour, but he doesn't switch it off. He stands by the counter, then finally pulls out his phone.

His messages with Calum are full of half-finished memes and dumb voice notes, mostly nonsense and old inside jokes. The last text was from three days ago, something about Calum's neighbor being a bitch to him.

Harry stares at the screen for a moment. Then, he types:

H. Hi Cal. Just wanted to check in, heard a bit from Lou as Luke is here with him.
H. You okay? No pressure to talk but I'm here if you need me.
H. Or if you don't. Just thinking of you.

He hits send before he can overthink it.

Then, after a second, he adds:

H. I love you, yeah? No matter what.

The phone screen dims. Harry sets it facedown on the counter and exhales, pressing his palms to the cool surface. He doesn't expect a reply, not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but he needed Calum to know he was still there. Still in his corner.

Still choosing him, even from a distance.

Behind him, Luke's muffled crying starts to quiet, breath by breath. Louis murmurs something too low to hear.

And Harry stands there in the stillness, hoping that somewhere—wherever he is—Calum can feel it. That tether. That thread of care that hasn't snapped yet. Not completely.

His phone buzzes a few times in his pocket not long after, of course it's Calum.

C. I'm okay. Just needed to get out of there.
C. I told him I wasn't ready. He didn't listen.
C. I don't hate him. But I don't know if I can come back from this. I'm tired, H. Just so tired.

Harry stares at the screen for a long moment.

He doesn't respond right away.

He looks over at Luke, curled smaller now, guilt weighing on him like gravity, and then back at the words. The part that hits hardest is that last line telling he's tired.

Because he knows what Calum sounds like when he's tired in the usual way. This isn't that.

This is the kind of tired that comes from holding yourself together too long.

He gets up and walks over to the couch to quietly hand his phone to Louis, and lets him read it without saying anything. Louis' jaw clenches by the end, eyes soft with understanding.

"Fuck," Louis murmurs.

Harry nods. "Yeah."

Luke looks up, suddenly alert. "Is it Cal?"

Louis doesn't answer right away. He just moves closer and sits beside him again, phone in his hand, voice quiet.

"He says he's okay. But he's tired. And he doesn't know if he can come back from it."

Luke squeezes his eyes shut. "I broke him."

Louis grabs his wrist, firm but not harsh. "You didn't break him. He's hurt. And he's allowed to be. You crossed a line he was brave enough to set. You want to love him right? Start by respecting that."

"I do," Luke chokes out. "I do respect him."

"Then show it," Harry says gently from across the room. "By not trying to fix this right now. Let him breathe."

Luke buries his face in his hands. Lets his fingers hover near his eyes long enough Harry is starting to worry he might gauge them out.

And Louis, who's never been great at words when it really counts, just sits beside him and doesn't move.

Harry watches them both, the person he loves and his best friend, and feels the weight of it all.

How fragile love is, how easily people try to hold on too tightly and end up pulling it apart.

He types back, short and simple:

H. Thanks for letting me know. You don't owe me a reply, but I'm here if you want to talk. Anytime.

Then he locks his phone and joins them on the couch. Reaches for Louis' hand without needing to ask.

Because this? This is what love looks like too.

Not just softness. Not just comfort. But staying, through all the wreckage.

-

The flat is quiet now. Luke's finally asleep. He's curled up under a blanket on the couch, face blotchy from crying, one arm hanging off the edge like he fell into exhaustion mid-thought.

Harry's in the kitchen again, rinsing out mugs, trying not to overthink Calum's last message. The tiredness in it echoes around his chest.

Then his phone buzzes once, barely audible over the trickle of water from the tap.

C. Is he okay?

Harry stares at the screen. It takes him a second to realize his hands have gone still in the sink. Water runs over his fingers, forgotten.

He wipes his hands and walks back toward the window, phone held tight.

H. He's not great.
H. But he knows. That he crossed a line. He's not blaming you. Not for any of it.
H. Just... hurting. And scared he lost you for good.

There's a pause. Several minutes. Harry watches the typing bubble appear and disappear twice.

Finally:

C. I don't want to hate him.
C. I still love him. That's what makes it so much worse.
C. But I don't feel safe right now. And I don't know how to explain that without sounding cruel.

Harry breathes in deep. Fuck, he feels so bad right now.

H. That's not cruel. That's honest.
H. You're allowed to protect your heart. Even from someone you still love.

Another pause.

C. I just wish love was enough.

Harry is quick to reply this time.

H. Sometimes it is.
H. Sometimes it's the start. Not the fix.

The typing bubble appears, then disappears again. But this time, Calum doesn't send anything else.

Harry just lets the silence sit. He doesn't push.

He doesn't need to. He knows Calum will eventually let him in, and even if he wouldn't, that's also okay for Harry.

Louis finds him by the window afterward. Harry's leaned against the frame, still staring at the phone screen like it's holding something fragile.

"Did he text again?" Louis asks gently.

Harry nods. "Yeah. Asked if Luke was okay."

Louis leans beside him, arms folded, watching the city outside. "He still loves him."

Harry's voice is soft. "Yeah. But he doesn't feel safe."

Louis doesn't answer. Just stares ahead, jaw tight.

Harry turns to look at him. "Hey. What's going on in that head?"

Louis shrugs, but it's too sharp. "Just... too close to home."

"How?"

Louis exhales. "That thing Luke did. Reaching too hard, too fast. Wanting it all back like flipping a switch. It's stupid, yeah, but I get it. That panic, when someone you love is slipping away and you'd do anything, even the wrong thing, to make them stay."

Harry nods slowly. "You think that's what you did?"

Louis doesn't answer at first.

Then, quieter than before: "Some nights, yeah. I think I went too far with you. Not just that night at the movies but all of it. Letting you get close. Letting you see things I never show anyone. Part of me keeps waiting for you to realize I'm too much and just, walk."

Harry's already moving before Louis finishes the sentence, stepping in close, hand curling around the back of his neck, anchoring him.

"I'm not going anywhere," He says. "I've worked on not running when it's hard. I try to stay when it matters."

Louis stares at him, throat working. "But what if I do? What if I'm the one who ruins it?"

Harry doesn't flinch. "Then we fix it. Together."

Silence stretches between them again. Then Louis exhales, eyes shining just a bit too much in the dim light.

He leans forward and presses his forehead to Harry's shoulder.

"You're too good at this," He murmurs. "It's terrifying."

Harry smiles against his hair. "Not good. Just sure. Of you."

And for the second time that day, Louis lets himself believe it.

Even if the rest is still uncertain. Even if the world outside is breaking in other ways.

Right now, in this small flat, with Harry's hand in his and Luke sleeping in the next room and Calum somewhere out there trying to hold his own heart together, it feels like something is being rebuilt.

Slow. But steady.

—

The flat is still, muted by soft morning light creeping through the blinds.

Luke wakes slowly, bleary-eyed and disoriented. His throat is dry. His head aches, the kind of ache that comes from crying too hard, not drinking too much. The blanket is half-off his body, twisted. His hoodie smells like someone else's laundry detergent.

The couch squeaks as he sits up.

For a moment, he just breathes.

Then he sees it, his phone, charging on the table beside him. A single notification waiting.

1 new message from Calum.

Luke stares at the screen. Doesn't move. His pulse climbs instantly, buzzing in his ears.

He reaches for the phone, thumb hovering.

Then taps it open. It's a long message, Luke's eyes fly over it.

C. I don't hate you. and I don't want to hate you. I just don't feel safe or ready right now.
Please don't make me feel guilty for that.
I'm trying to hold the part of me that still loves you without breaking the rest of me.
I hope one day that's enough to start again. But today isn't that day and I don’t know when it will be.

Luke's chest heaves, a tight pressurized knot forming behind his ribs.

He reads it once. Then again.

And again.

By the fourth time, his hands are shaking.

He doesn't cry, not yet. It's too much for tears. It's just this crushing, aching silence inside him, like the message knocked out all the sound in the world.

He doesn't even hear Louis enter the room until a mug lands quietly on the table beside him.

"Coffee," Louis says softly. "Didn't know how you take it this morning. Figured sweet was safer."

Luke doesn't speak. He just holds out the phone with a trembling hand.

Louis reads the message once, lips pressing into a line. Then he sits beside him on the armrest, rubbing a hand down Luke's back.

"I know it hurts," He says after a moment. "But that's not a goodbye, mate."

Luke lets the phone drop to his lap. His voice is wrecked. "It feels like one."

Louis nods. "Yeah. It does. But it's also, still love. Still there. Underneath the hurt."

Harry appears in the doorway, still rumpled from sleep, rubbing at his eyes. "He wrote you?" he asks, gentle.

Luke nods.

Harry walks over slowly, crouches in front of him. "Can I read it?"

Luke hands him the phone without looking up.

Harry reads, then lets out a long, quiet breath. "He's not shutting the door."

"I wanted him to yell at me," Luke whispers. "Tell me I ruined it. Tell me he never wants to see me again. It would've been easier."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "But that's not what you want, is it?"

Luke swallows. "No."

"Then you hold onto what he gave you," Harry says softly. "Not the part your guilt's trying to turn it into."

Luke looks up at them, both of them, and for the first time in hours, maybe longer, he doesn't feel entirely alone.

He picks up the mug of coffee. Takes a sip.

"Too sweet," He mutters while scrunching his nose.

Louis groans. "Shut up, you're lucky I didn't lace it with vanilla syrup."

Luke huffs a breath, not quite a laugh, but close.

And somehow, that tiny, bitter sound, feels like a beginning.

Chapter 44: Chapter 41

The flat smells like garlic bread and roasted tomato soup, the kind of comfort food Harry only makes when he's nervous and trying to keep his hands busy.

The lights are dimmed low, music is playing quietly from the record player, something mellow and safe. A perfect Sunday evening, some might say.

Louis pours wine into mismatched glasses. "You sure he's coming?"

Harry glances at the clock and nods. "Yeah. Said he was five minutes away."

Louis watches him for a beat, he notices Harry seems jittery. "You okay?"

Harry shrugs. "I just- I don't like thinking of him sitting alone in that flat. With all that weight and no one to share it with."

Louis' face softens. "You've got a good heart, H."

Harry grins, nudging him and pointing towards the oven. "And you've got the oven set too high, so maybe focus on that."

A knock at the door cuts through the moment.

They both freeze for half a second, then Louis moves first, crossing the flat and pulling the door open.

Calum stands there, shoulders slightly hunched, hands in the pockets of a too-big hoodie. Louis instantly recognizes the hoodie, Luke used to wear it a lot.

He looks tired, but not wrecked per se. Just wearing thin, in that emotional way where someone's been stretching themselves too far for too long.

"Hey," Louis says, stepping aside. "Come in."

Calum does, he moves slowly. "Thanks for inviting me."

Harry steps out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel. "Thanks for saying yes."

Calum gives him a faint smile, the kind that says he knows what Harry's doing. But he seems grateful. But also not okay.

They don't push. They'll let Calum decide.

The table's already set. Soup, garlic bread, salad Harry actually chopped with care. Calum blinks down at it like he might cry again, but doesn't.

"You didn't have to-"

"We wanted to," Harry cuts him off firmly.

Dinner is quiet at first.

They talk about stupid things, an awful movie Louis rewatched, a broken speaker in the studio, Harry's ongoing vendetta against their neighbors dog who barks at him every time he walks past.

Calum just sits there and eats. Doesn't say much. But he eats and that's something.

Eventually, he carefully sets his cutlery down and leans back in his chair, eyes resting on the wine glass but not drinking from it yet.

"Luke's not here, right?"

Harry immediately shakes his head. "He went home this morning. We didn't tell him you were coming."

"Thank you," Calum says quietly.

Louis watches him for a beat, then leans forward. "You don't have to talk about anything, but if you want to we're here."

Calum nods slowly. "I don't even know what I'd say."

"That's alright," Harry reassures him. "Saying nothing is allowed."

Another silence falls between them. It's a tad more comfortable this time. Calum picks up a piece of bread and tears it in half. He doesn't eat it but just holds it in his hands.

"He still smells like me," He says suddenly. His voice quiet. Raw. Maybe even bitter. "That's the worst part. We were close the other night and he still smelled like my flat. Like my shampoo. My hoodie."

Louis doesn't say anything, just lets it swirl around in his mind.

"I don't want to stop loving him," Calum adds, somewhat desperate. "But I'm also afraid if I keep loving him out loud, I'll never stop hurting."

Harry, still seated across from him, speaks gently. "So love him quietly for now. From where it's safe. That's still love, Cal."

Calum's eyes burn, but he doesn't cry. He just nods, wipes his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, and reaches for the wine glass finally.

He drinks, then clears his throat. "This soup is really good, by the way."

Louis grins. "Soup solves everything."

"Garlic bread and some passive-aggressive salad dicing," Harry mumbles with his mouth full.

Calum chuckles softly, the frown on his face relaxing a little.

And that sound? That little thread of laughter?

It feels like hope to Louis. Like someday it'll all work out.

For Calum and Luke.

But also for him and Harry.

The rest of the dinner flows by fast. Calum and Harry talk about some projects they're both working on, Louis just listens to them.

After dinner the two retreat in Harry's room, leaving Louis to clean up. Of course they wanted to help but Louis figured it might be nice for Calum to focus on something else and Harry's the perfect person to help with that.

-

As Louis is washing up the dishes, he can't help but wonder how long Calum had been holding it all in.

Not just the heartbreak—though that's obvious in the way his shoulders sagged the second he stepped through the door—but the loneliness.

The not-being-chosen. The way Luke kept him close enough to feel needed but far enough to never feel safe.

Louis knows that kind of ache. He remembers it in flickers, from a time before Harry. Before they got brave enough to stop dancing around it.

The warm water runs over his hands as he rinses the last of the soup bowls, and his eyes flick instinctively toward the door, where Harry and Calum are hidden from his sight.

Probably sitting cross legged on the floor, tucked away in the corner next to his desk. Harry might be pulling open his sketchbooks to work on it and Calum may be strumming Harry's old guitar.

Harry giving Calum space without making him feel alone.

It's one of the things Louis loves most about him.

That instinct to care, to soften. He never asks for anything back, but he always gives so much.

Louis dries his hands and leans on the counter, letting the soft hum of the record player and the clink of cooling dishes settle into the room.

He wonders if Calum ever really let himself believe Luke loved him or if he always knew it was fragile. Conditional.

And he wonders how long it'll take for Calum to believe he deserves more than that.

Louis glances down at the dish towel in his hands, then toward the couch. He feels a little lost, he admits to himself. He's not entirely sure why, but he feels like he needs to tiptoe around the house tonight.

Calum being so passive.. thinking about it makes Louis ache a little. Not just because he hates seeing someone he cares about hurt, but because he knows how easy it is to mistake crumbs for a feast when you're starving for affection.

He doesn't want that for Calum.

He doesn't want him to feel like Louis once did.

He wants someone who will love Calum loudly, completely. No confusion. No holding back.

And if Louis is honest, he is not sure if Luke is that person for Calum. Sure, Luke loves him, but sometimes, that's not enough.

He lets go of that thought easily, it's not his place to decide what's good and what isnt.

Behind the closed door, a soft laugh sounds, Calum's. Quiet, a little surprised, but real.

Louis smiles.

They're getting there. All of them. In their own time, their own way.

He rinses out the wine glasses and sets them on the rack to dry, then heads toward the living room.

Louis puts on a movie, but soon enough he feels himself drift off into that space of nearly sleep but still a bit too conscious. He's just way too tired from work, the past week, this eventful weekend, everything but his body doesn't completely relax yet.

He opens his eyes again when he hears the familiar click of Harry's door opening. The room is now dark, the movie already over.

"Shh, Louis is asleep." He hears Harry whisper, Calum silently following him.

"Not anymore." Louis yawns into his elbow, sitting up as he looks over at the guys. "Cal, you leaving?"

Calum nods, "Yeah, gotta get up early tomorrow."

As does Louis. "Love that for us."

"So.." Calum trails off, making no moves towards the door. "Guess I'll be going then."

Louis then stands up and walks over to give Calum a hug, "We're here if you need anything."

He feels Calum tense up at his words before retreating out of Louis' arms.

"I- My god." Calum breathes out, suddenly looking distressed as he wipes his hands on his jeans.

Harry frowns, shortly touching his shoulder as if to wake him up from a trance. "Cal? You okay there?"

Calum grimaces, rubbing his forehead. "I just- Man, fuck." He curses, putting his hands up in exasperation. "I've been a fucking dick to you guys and I don't fucking deserve any of this."

Louis shakes his head, "Cal.."

Harry pulls Calum into his arms, "Shut up Cal, we've talked about that already."

Calum just lets himself be in Harry's embrace, softly sniffling against it. "I know, I know."

Louis watches the two, somewhere in his chest forms a golden warmth. It's a really good feeling to see his boyfriend care so much for his friend.

"Guess I'm just really grateful for both of you." Calum grins through his teary eyed face as he pulls back from Harry.

Louis laughs, "Good."

Calum gives both of them a quick nod, before he actually starts to leave this time. "Thanks again guys, see you."

"See you, take care." Louis calls out as Calum and Harry make their way to the hallway, for Harry to see him out.

After Calum's gone, Harry comes back into the livingroom. He finds Louis half asleep on the couch again.

Harry settles down beside Louis, careful not to disturb him too much. He watches Louis's eyelids flutter, that tired, peaceful kind of sleep he loves seeing on him.

Louis stirs and blinks up at Harry, voice soft and a little croaky. "You think he'll be okay?"

Harry smiles faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair back from Louis's forehead. "Yeah. He's got us now. And I could tell having his brain focused on something else did help him."

Louis nods, letting out a slow breath. "You're so good with people. You make it look easy."

Harry shakes his head, chuckling low. "Not easy. I just care too much."

"Same," Louis whispers, reaching out to lace his fingers with Harry's.

They sit like that for a while, the hum of the city outside seeping in through the windows, the soft glow of the streetlamp casting long shadows across the room. Harry leans his head on Louis's shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Promise me something?" Harry mumbles.

Louis turns his head to look at him, eyes still heavy with sleep but sharp with curiosity. "Anything."

"That we keep making this space. For him, for us, for whoever needs it. No matter how messy it gets."

Louis smiles, squeezing Harry's hand. "I promise."

And for the first time that night, the silence between them isn't heavy, it's full. Full of hope, and quiet strength, and the kind of love that doesn't have to be loud to be real.

Harry lets his eyes close again, feeling safe in the warmth beside Louis. Tomorrow will come with its own battles, but tonight, tonight, they have this.

Louis turns his head a little to look up at Harry, "Let's go to bed."

"Gladly." Harry yawns into his hand.

"You're cute when you squeeze your eyes like that when yawning." Louis can't help but blurt out.

Harry grins, "Sure."

They quietly make their way through the apartment. Louis pushes Harry in the side to use the faucet after he's brushed his teeth, Harry pulls Louis back when he makes a beeline for the toilet and goes to use it himself and Louis grabs Harry's face wash out of his hand to use it first.

Just a casual evening routine for them.

A bit later they're settled down in bed, neither of them says much. The silence between them is warm, charged with a quiet electricity that doesn't need words.

"I like your room." Louis whispers, eyes closed as he's laying down on Harry's chest. He instantly relaxes in his touch.

"Why?" Harry asks, fingers lazily tracing figures on Louis' back.

"It's so you. It smells like you and it feels like you."

Harry smiles, pressing a kiss into Louis' hair. "It's better when you're in here."

"So sappy." Louis grumbles, barely even awake.

Harry chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest under Louis's ear. "Only for you."

Louis shifts a little, settling more fully against Harry's warmth. His fingers curl gently around the hem of Harry's shirt, tugging it just enough to feel the coolness of the fabric against his skin.

The room is quiet except for the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing and the faint creak of the bed settling beneath them.

Harry's hand moves up, brushing a lazy path along Louis's jaw, thumb tracing the soft curve beneath his cheekbone.

"Sleepy," Harry murmurs, voice low and warm.

Louis nods, eyes fluttering closed. "Same. Also, feels like the world's a little less heavy here."

Harry presses a soft kiss to Louis's temple, then trails one down the side of his neck. "Me too."

Louis lets out a soft sigh, fingers tightening around Harry's shirt just a little.

For a long moment, they just exist like that. Quiet, close, grounded in the simplicity of each other.

Then Harry's breath catches as his hand slides under Louis's shirt, skin warming beneath his touch.

Louis smiles against the pillow, half-asleep but all in.

"G'night," He whispers.

Harry leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss along Louis's jawline, the gentle promise of more, but never anything hurried or forced. "Goodnight Lou."

The night folds around them, soft and slow, and they drift toward sleep tangled together.

Safe, steady and exactly where they need to be.

Chapter 45: Chapter 42

"Louis?"

Louis is busy working on some construction drawings in the design room on site, so he doesn't react at first. Hopefully they'll leave him alone if he doesn't reply, because this drawing needs to be completed today.

There's an inspection tomorrow so everything needs to be ready for them.

It's already late afternoon so Louis is in a rush, he loves himself a bit of procrastination..

But the voice calls for him again as he enters the room. "Louis?"

Louis sighs and looks up, it's Ashton. "Yeah?"

The dark-red haired guy seems nervous, jittery even, as he plops down on one of the chairs in the room. He fidgets with the strap of his backpack, avoiding Louis's gaze.

"Hey, I- uh, I need to talk to you about something," Ashton finally blurts out, voice barely even audible.

Louis sets his pencil down, wiping a smudge of graphite off his hand. "Okay, what's up?"

Ashton hesitates, glancing toward the door like he's worried someone might overhear. "It's about the site inspection tomorrow... I think there's something wrong with how the steel beams in sector C are connected. I saw some cracks in the welding when I was doing my rounds."

Louis feels a spike of concern. "Cracks? Are you sure? That could be serious."

Ashton nods quickly, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I wasn't sure if it was just my eyes playing tricks."

Louis leans back, thinking fast. The deadline, the drawings, they all suddenly feel a lot heavier.

"And-" Ashton swallows again, "I know I'm the new guy here and I don't want you to think I'm doing this to my own advantage."

"Thanks for telling me," Louis says firmly, grabbing his safety helmet. "We need to get this checked out immediately. Can you show me what you saw?"

Ashton nods again, standing up, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "Yeah, let's go."

When they're making their way towards sector C, Louis grabs his phone and dials Harry.

"Hey Lou. What's up?" Harry's voice is soft, surprise lacing through it. Louis never calls around this time of day.

"I'm gonna have to take a raincheck on dinner tonight." He's quick and to the point. "Sorry. There's some unforeseen things on site Ashton and I are checking out, which will need to be fixed now."

Louis feels Ashtons eyes on him, the guy definitely questioning some things.

"Oh.." Harry's voice trails off, clearly not too happy. "That's okay. Good luck."

The tone in Harry's voice makes Louis hesitate a second before he hangs up after they've said their goodbyes.

When he's shoved his phone back into his pocket, Louis follows Ashton to the place.

He feels a bit worried after the phone call with Harry but he can't do anything about that now. He'll deal with that later.

"Here," Ashton points up, as they enter the building. "The welding there isn't done correctly."

"Fuck me." Louis whistles between his teeth, because indeed, the welding isn't properly placed, creating a safety issue, "That's a good catch Ash."

"I haven't had time to check the other beams though." Ashton hesitates, "But I asked around who did these and all of them are done by Jeff."

Hm. Jeff is one of the welders they've worked together with a hundred times. Never been a problem but as Louis walks around the sector he suddenly sees a lot of improper placed welds.

He can't remember if he's seen him around the last few days though..

Louis grabs a ladder and goes up to inspect a weld from a closer distance. "Can you get Mark for me?"

Ashton nods and is on his way immediately.

A moment later Mark enters the sector, "Sup Lou?"

Louis just steps off the ladder as he points towards the steel beam, "Check out that weld up there."

And so, Mark does. "Who the fuck did this?"

"Jeff." Ashton mumbles, he feels nervous having his two bosses around.

Louis nudges his shoulder, "Don't worry Ash, we're glad you told us."

Mark curses under his breath and steps back, arms crossed as he stares at the beam like it personally insulted him. "We've got an inspection tomorrow, Louis."

"I know," Louis mutters, jaw tightening. "And if the inspector sees that, we're screwed."

Mark shakes his head. "You think Jeff's just gotten sloppy, or is something else going on?"

Louis doesn't answer right away. He glances around the sector again, scanning other welds with a critical eye. "It's too consistent to be an accident. Every weld in here looks like it was rushed or someone wasn't qualified to be doing them at all."

Ashton shifts on his feet. "I didn't want to throw him under the bus, but I knew it wasn't right."

"You did the right thing," Mark says, his voice quieter now. "If you hadn't said anything and something collapsed..."

Louis interrupts, voice firm. "We need to do a full sweep of the sector tonight. Strip the welds, reinspect every single beam. There's no way we're passing inspection with this mess."

Mark nods. "We'll need to pull the night crew in. You want me to start calling them?"

"Yeah. And get Jeff, too. I want to talk to him."

Ashton glances between them. "Do you want me to help with the sweep?"

Louis studies him for a moment. "You up for it?"

Ashton straightens his back, nodding. "Yeah. I want to make sure it's done right."

Louis gives him a kind, approving smile. "Alright then. Let's get to it."

A few hours later, floodlights bathe Sector C in a harsh white glow as the night crew files in, bleary-eyed and grumbling.

Louis stands at the center, clipboard in hand, delegating tasks. Ashton sticks close, checking welds, flagging problem areas.

Jeff arrives last, face unreadable as he walks toward Louis.

"Something going on?" He asks casually, like the room isn't buzzing with quiet tension.

Louis turns to him slowly. "You did the welds in Sector C, right?"

Jeff frowns. "Yeah, why?"

"Come take a look at them."

Jeff climbs the ladder, eyes scanning the beam, then mutters something under his breath. "Huh. That's- Well, yeah, that's not great."

"Not great?" Louis echoes sharply. "Jeff, this could've failed. There are a dozen welds in here like that."

Jeff climbs down, rubbing the back of his neck. "I- Uh, I didn't do those ones."

"What?"

"I mean, I did some of the work here in Sector C, yeah. But I wasn't here Tuesday or Wednesday. I was pulled off to work with the north crew those days."

Louis and Mark exchange a glance.

"So who was working your shifts down here?" Mark asks.

Jeff shrugs. "I dunno. They told me someone was filling in, but I never found out who."

Louis turns to Mark. "Get the personnel logs for Tuesday and Wednesday. I want names."

Mark's already pulling out his phone. Ashton looks between them, brows drawn together.

"You think someone was working under Jeff's name?"

Louis nods slowly. "And if they weren't certified- Fuck man, then we've got a whole other problem on our hands."

Fuck. Louis' hands itch to throw something/someone against the wall.

Mark scrolls through the personnel logs on his phone, frowning. "Shit. We've got someone logged in under Jeff's ID badge both Tuesday and Wednesday."

Jeff's face pales. "That's impossible. I keep that badge on me. It never left my locker."

Louis runs a hand through his hair, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Then either someone cloned it, or someone let someone else use it."

Mark sighs. "We'll need to report this. This isn't just sloppy, this is a liability."

Ashton hovers near the beam, quietly flagging another bad weld. He looks exhausted, but determined. "What do you need me to do next?"

Louis opens his mouth to respond, but his phone buzzes. He glances down.

H. Everything okay?
H. You still working?

He types a quick response.

L. Yeah. It's a mess. Someone forged a badge and messed up half the welds in Sector C. It's gonna take all night. Sorry.

Harry leaves him on read and doesn't reply for a while.

Louis puts the phone back in his pocket and turns back to Ashton.

"Keep checking. If there's even a hint of a bad weld, flag it."

Ashton nods. "Got it."

-

Across town, Harry tosses his phone onto the couch, watching the screen go black before it can lock. The apartment is too quiet. The dinner he made hours ago sits cold on the counter, untouched.

He tries not to be upset. He tries, because he knows Louis takes his job seriously, and he's always respected that.

But it's nearly ten.

He's alone again.

And it's Ashton again.

Harry runs a hand through his curls, pacing the living room.

New guy. Tall. Earnest. Following Louis around like a shadow lately.

Harry trusts Louis—of course he does—but he doesn't trust the way Louis's face softens when he talks about Ashton. How he defends him. How he notices him.

Jealousy is ugly. He knows that. He doesn't want to be that boyfriend.

But it crawls in, bitter and relentless.

He types out a message and deletes it. Then another. Finally, he sends one.

H. Don't overdo it, yeah? Be careful.

-

Back on site, Louis's phone buzzes again, but he doesn't check it right away. He's elbow-deep in problem-solving with Mark, trying to map out a rework schedule that won't delay the next phase.

"Whoever did this," Mark mutters, "they weren't just incompetent. They were cutting corners."

Louis nods grimly. "And we almost let it slip through because we were so focused on meeting deadlines."

Mark pauses, lowering his voice. "I don't like dragging the crew into shit like this, but we're gonna have to ask questions. This could have cost someone their life."

Ashton approaches, quiet. "I think I found another beam like the first one. It's on the far end."

Louis follows him, phone forgotten in his pocket. But as they walk under the cold metal skeleton of the sector, that earlier worry—Harry's voice over the phone, disappointed and quiet—curls in his chest.

He's used to pressure, to working late. But it's different this time. This time he left someone waiting.

-

Back at the apartment, Harry sits curled up on the couch in one of Louis's hoodies, the TV on mute. He's not angry anymore, just lonely and feeling bad about himself. He picks at a piece of bread from the plate, sighing softly.

The hoodie smells like Louis. Like graphite and sweat and whatever cologne he wears only when he remembers. Harry wraps the sleeves around his hands, closes his eyes and drifts off.

The key scrapes softly in the lock just past 5:00 a.m.

Louis pushes the door open with a quiet, exhausted sigh. His boots feel like cement, his hoodie clings to him with the scent of welding dust and cold night air, and every muscle in his body aches.

The apartment is dark, except for the soft blue glow of the living room TV, still on from hours ago. He closes the door behind him gently, trying not to make noise, but it still clicks shut a little louder than he'd like.

There's a soft rustle from the couch.

Harry sits up slowly, blanket sliding off his shoulders, eyes puffy with sleep or maybe something else. He's still in Louis's hoodie. His curls are a mess, but even in the dim light, Louis can see the tightness in his jaw.

"You're home," Harry says quietly. Not a question.

Louis exhales, tossing his keys in the bowl by the door and leaning back against it for a second, like he needs to gather strength just to walk across the room. "Yeah."

Harry doesn't move. He watches Louis, waiting.

Louis crosses the space between them and drops onto the other end of the couch, not touching, but close. He scrubs a hand over his face. "It was bad, H. Like so fucking bad. Some idiot forged Jeff's badge and did a bunch of unapproved welds. Half the sector could've failed."

"I figured it was serious," Harry says, voice calm, but flat.

Louis glances at him, guilt creeping in. "I know I should've called again. I just- I couldn't. We didn't even stop for coffee, let alone breaks."

Harry finally looks at him, really looks. "I wasn't angry."

Louis swallows. "But you were upset."

Silence.

Harry shrugs, looking away. "It's not even that you stayed. I get that part. I do. It's just.. I keep thinking you're gonna come home one day and realize there's someone else who fits your world better than I do. Someone who gets the job. The hours. The constant stress."

Louis stares at him, blinking like he's not sure he heard him right.

"What?"

Harry grimaces, he knows he's being unfair. "Like maybe someone on the job, you know."

"You think I'm going to leave you for Ashton?" Louis says flatly, Harry's words finally clicking in his head. His stomach sinks as he thinks about Harry feeling like this over Louis' coworker.

Harry looks embarrassed now Louis has said it out loud, but doesn't deny it.

"Fuck, Harry." Louis reaches out and cups Harry's face gently, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw.

Disappointment clear in his voice as he continues. "I was working with him because he saw something no one else did. He probably saved lives last night. That's it. I'm not looking at him the way I look at you. Not even close. He's literally in my crew, I'm his fucking boss."

Harry's throat bobs as he tries to hold it together.

"I know it's stupid," He says, eyes flicking down. "But I was just here. Alone. And I had no idea what was going on or if you were okay or if you'd remember me at all in the middle of everything."

Louis moves closer, pulling him into his chest without another word. Harry sinks into it immediately, wrapping his arms around Louis's waist like he needs to hold him together.

"I remember you even when I'm losing my fucking mind, okay?" Louis murmurs into his hair. "You're not something I forget."

Harry doesn't respond, just buries his face into the hoodie and holds on tighter.

Louis presses a kiss to the side of his head and whispers, "Let me shower. Then I'll come to bed and you can yell at me in your sleep."

Harry huffs a laugh against his chest. "You smell like steel."

"Hot, right?"

"Terrible."

"Cool. I missed you too." Louis grins as he makes his way to the shower.

The water runs for barely five minutes.

Louis simply doesn't have the energy to stand up for longer than that.

He's decided that Mark, Ashton and him can start around 1pm today, as the inspection will be there around 3pm. So they can rest a little before the work starts again.

He slips into bed next to an already sleeping Harry, he nestles himself against his boyfriend and it's not long before they're both asleep.

-

Louis wakes up to warmth later that morning, and a dull ache in his spine spreading to his neck.

His eyes blink open slowly, adjusting to the golden haze of late morning sunlight filtering through the curtains.

Harry's curled into him, head tucked beneath Louis's chin, one leg thrown possessively over his. It would've been sweet if it didn't feel like he'd been hit by a steel beam himself.

Louis lets out a small groan as he stretches, shifting slightly under the weight of his boyfriend's limbs.

Harry stirs but doesn't move far, just burrows in a little tighter. "Don't move," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. "You're warm."

"You're clingy."

"You like it."

Louis smiles to himself. He does.

They lie in silence for a minute until Harry mumbles, barely audible, "Did Ashton stay the whole night?"

Louis blinks. "You're thinking about Ashton first thing when you wake up?" His voice carries a teasing tone. "I'm flattered."

Harry sighs. "I just meant, he was with you the whole time, right?"

Louis tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "You're still jealous, aren't you?"

"I'm not jealous," Harry replies a little too quickly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "I just don't love how he is around you the whole time."

Louis grins lazily. "He was terrified half the night and covered in steel dust. Not exactly romantic."

"That's not the point," Harry mutters, gaze dropping to Louis's collarbone, where a fresh smudge of grease is still faintly visible. "You talk about him a lot."

Louis's brow arches. "Do I?"

"Yes."

Louis shifts suddenly, rolling them so Harry's beneath him, pinned gently to the mattress, his wrists loosely gathered in Louis's hands.

"Do you want to know what I thought about when I was finally in bed?" Louis asks, voice dropping. "Not Ashton. You. Sitting here last night, curled up in my hoodie. Pacing the flat. Making too much tea you won't drink."

Harry swallows, his breath catching just slightly. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not," Louis murmurs, leaning down until their noses touch. "I'm reminding you that I came home to you. Not to Ashton. Not to anyone else. You're the one I crawl into bed with. The one I wake up next to."

Harry looks up at him, that tiny flicker of doubt still in his eyes, even if he's trying to suppress it.

"And as for Ashton," Louis adds with a slow smile, "he's very polite, very respectful and if I squint, he might be your type more than mine."

Harry lets out a startled laugh, trying to wriggle free. "You're such a-"

But Louis cuts him off with a slow kiss. Gentle at first, then deeper, more certain. Not rushed. Just a quiet way of saying that he's here. Only here.

When they part, Harry looks dazed for half a second, then grins up at him. "Fine. I guess I'll stop being jealous of him. Maybe."

"Only if you want to." Louis presses another kiss to his jaw. "A little jealousy suits you. Keeps me humble."

Harry hums, arms sliding around Louis's waist again, grounding him. "I'll keep that in mind."

They both laugh, bodies warm and tangled, the edge of tension easing into something softer.

Something safe.

Chapter 46: Chapter 43

It takes Louis a while to get out of bed that morning, especially after the little amount of sleep he's gotten. And he's very comfortable with Harry next to him.

As he's finally in the bathroom rushing to get himself ready and brushing his teeth, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

It's Ashton.

"Hey Ash, what's up?" Louis says through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Hey, I was wondering if you could pick me up for work? My car broke down. Again." He hears the hesitant tone in Ashtons voice.

"No problem man, I'll text you when I'm at Marks."

"Great. Thanks." Ashton smiles on the other side of the line. "See you."

"See you." Louis hangs up the phone and finishes brushing his teeth.

After a moment Harry comes into the bathroom as well, he sneaks his hand around Louis from behind and leans his face onto Louis' shoulder.

Harry gently kisses the bare skin, softly dragging his teeth over it. Louis' tenses up within his arms, muttering a soft "Don't."

Making him hesitate and take a step back, Harry's stomach churns, did he do something wrong?

"I-" Harry starts but Louis puts up his hand as to signal him to stop, as he bends over the sink to rinse his mouth.

Louis turns around to face Harry, staring him down as he swiftly tugs him closer against his body by curling his fingers around the waistband of Harry's boxers.

Harry sharply inhales as he feels Louis' bulge pressing up against him. Louis rolls his hips into Harry's for emphasis.

"This is what you do to me, Harry." Louis stretches out, voice low as he's still maintaining eye contact. "And I cannot do that right now."

Harry bites his lip, cheeks tinging pink. That little moment of doubt quickly flew out of the window by Louis' movement. "I could do it." He offers, maybe too eager.

Louis rolls his eyes, "So can I. But I need to be gone in like a minute. Need to pick up Mark and Ashton as well."

Harry sighs, fucking Ashton again. He steps back a little. "Okay. Good luck today."

Louis looks up at him, sticking up his chin a little at the change of tone in Harry's voice at the mention of Ashton. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Louis puts his hand on Harry's chest, looking up at him with a bit of disappointment in his eyes. Making Harry shrink beneath his gaze. "I don't have time to speak about this right now, but please remember what I said yesterday. Ashton is my coworker."

"I didn't-" Harry starts but Louis cuts him off with a quick kiss.

"Yeah you did. And we're gonna talk about this tonight." Louis says before grabbing his keys and running towards the door to put on his boots.

The door slams behind him, and Harry just stands there for a beat too long, staring at the space Louis left behind like he might somehow come back and finish what they started.

Or at least explain why this all feels so much heavier than it should.

He runs a hand through his curls, muttering a quiet, "Fuck," under his breath.

This thing —this feeling— it's not just about Ashton. Not really. It's about not knowing where Louis draws the line. About not knowing if Louis would even see it if he ever started crossing one.

Ashton might be a coworker, but there's something in the way Louis says his name. In the way he always answers his calls. In the way Harry's stomach flips every time Louis mentions him like he's just being helpful.

Harry hates the way it makes him feel, insecure, possessive, jealous. That's not who he wants to be with Louis. But he also knows his instincts rarely show up without reason.

Harry stares at his hands.

He wants to believe Louis. He does believe it. But belief and security aren't always the same thing and love doesn't always drown out doubt.

He sighs, standing up to get his things together for uni.

Tonight, he tells himself. Tonight, we're getting it all out in the open.

Even if it hurts.

-

Meanwhile, Louis is behind the wheel, jaw tight, his playlist low in the background as he pulls up outside Mark's flat. Mark's already waiting, coffee in hand, and gets in with a quiet "Morning."

Louis nods, giving a distracted "Hey." as he texts Ashton they're on their way.

"You alright?" Mark asks after a moment, sensing something's off.

Louis shrugs. "Harry's pissed."

"About?"

"Ashton."

Mark scoffs slightly. "And?"

Louis shoots him a warning glance, but Mark holds up a hand. "Not taking sides. Just- You know what it looks like, right? To him?"

"He's my coworker, Mark. I'm his boss for fucks sake."

"Yeah, I know that," Mark says. "But Harry doesn't see that. He sees someone who gets a lot of your time. A lot of your energy. And when you get cagey about it..."

Louis sighs, grip tightening around the steering wheel. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Maybe not," Mark says gently. "But are you being honest about everything?"

Louis opens his mouth to argue, but the words don't come. What was he supposed to say? That he talks about Ashton because he's proud of him? Because it feels good to finally have someone on site who listens? None of that felt like something Harry should be upset about.

But Harry was upset. And that part made Louis's stomach twist, because he wasn't lying. He wasn't crossing any line. So why did it feel like he already had?

Before Louis can respond, they've already reached Ashtons street.

Ashton slides into the back seat a few minutes later, breath visible in the morning chill. "Thanks again. Sorry for the short notice."

Louis glances at him in the rearview mirror. "It's fine."

Ashton nods, but doesn't meet his eyes. He looks... off. Pale, tired. Like he hasn't slept much either. His hands fidget in his lap, twisting the strap of his backpack.

"You okay?" Louis asks.

Ashton hesitates. "Yeah. Just... stuff."

He glances up, briefly locking eyes with Louis in the mirror, like he wants to say more. But then he looks away just as quickly, chewing the inside of his cheek

-

The day drags. The sun beats down on the site, and the smell of dust and concrete clings to everything. Skin, clothes, the back of Louis' throat.

He doesn't mind. He loves the work, even the rough parts. What he doesn't love is the silence between him and Harry that's been echoing in his chest all day.

As he's going over material deliveries with Mark near the trailer, Ashton jogs over, his red hair bumping up and down, hard hat tucked under one arm, cheeks flushed.

"Hey Louis, just wanted to double check, you said we're starting the exterior frame on the east side tomorrow, right? The last deliveries are stocked in the wrong room so we'll need to change that tomorrow."

Louis barely looks at the clipboard in his hand before nodding. "Yeah, you're right. Good catch."

Mark gives Ashton a quick glance, then raises a brow at Louis after he walks off. "That kid's got you grinning again."

Louis shrugs, trying not to smile too obviously. "He's sharp. Picks up things fast. Most new hires spend the first two weeks getting in everyone's way, but Ashton's already clocking issues before I even see 'em."

Mark slyly smirks. "You've mentioned."

"What, I can't compliment my crew?"

"Not every other fucking hour," Mark says under his breath, walking off.

Louis watches Ashton cross the site again, checking over stacked materials near the truck.

There's something about his energy, this constant drive to prove himself, that reminds Louis of how he used to be when he started out.

Before the promotions. Before managing people.

Before having to think twice about how things looked to someone on the outside.

Because honestly, Louis isn't sure what he's doing wrong.

Sure, he may be talking a tad too much about Ashton but it's hard getting good crew lately and he just likes the hard working guy.

But he doesn't see what is so wrong about it? It's not like he wants anything else from Ashton.

-

Back at the flat, Harry's on the couch with his laptop open but not really looking at it. His phone buzzes.

L. heading out now. got caught up on site.

Harry doesn't respond right away. He just stares at the message, lips pursed, the familiar knot of irritation low in his stomach.

It's not that Louis works late, of course, he gets it. Construction is unpredictable. But it's who Louis is always 'caught up' with that gets under his skin.

Ashton this. Ashton that.

'Ashton's a fast learner.'

'Ashton pulled double shift without complaining.'

'Ashton brought donuts for the crew.'

It's always fucking Ashton.

And Louis doesn't even realize how often he talks about him. Or how he never mentions when they stay behind together.

Harry just closes his laptop as Louis finally steps through the door well after seven.

He's sweaty, dusty, and clearly exhausted, but there's something light in his expression when he kicks off his boots.

"Hey," He calls, already heading to wash up.

Harry stays seated. "How's Ashton?"

Louis pauses mid-step, because what?

"The fuck?"

Harry shrugs. "Just figured I'd ask before you brought him up again."

Louis turns back, wiping his hands on his shirt. "Harry-"

"No, it's fine," Harry says, standing now. "I just- I know he's new. And I know you like mentoring. But lately, it's like I'm dating you and your apprentice."

Louis flinches at the words rolling out of Harry’s mouth. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

"I'm his boss. I'm supposed to look after him."

"I know that. I do. But the way you talk about him, Lou. The way you light up when you do, it doesn't feel like just work anymore."

Louis walks into the room fully now, closing the distance. "That's not what this is. I swear to you, Harry. He's new. Young. He's figuring things out. And maybe I talk about him too much, but it's only because I see something in him. Potential."

Harry looks at him, hard. "You don't see that he hangs on your every word? Even Mark said it when I saw him last week."

Louis hesitates.

"It's crossing a line, Louis."

The words hit harder than Harry expects, maybe because it's the first time he's said them aloud.

Louis's breath hitches. That's not fair, he thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud. What line? Where was the line?

Because if this mentoring, teaching, managing was enough to threaten what they had, then maybe Harry didn't trust him at all.

And that stung more than he wanted to admit.

Finally, he slowly speaks up. "Even if that's true, it doesn't change anything for me. I'm with you. And maybe I've been blind to how it looks, but I've never crossed a line with him."

Harry softens, but just a little. "Then be honest with yourself. Is this really just about mentoring? Or is there a part of you that likes the way he looks at you?"

Louis doesn't deny it.

And that silence is louder than any confession for Harry.

-

Later that night, as Louis lays in bed staring at the ceiling while Harry's coldly turned away beside him, he types a message into his phone and stares at it for a long time before hitting send:

L. Hey. Do you have a minute for me tomorrow?

And Ashton replies, almost immediately.

A. Of course! Everything okay?

Louis hesitates, types the message and stares at it, thumb hovering. Part of him didn't even know what he wanted to say, only that the space between him and Harry felt wider than ever.

He hadn't meant to get here. Hadn't meant to hurt him.

But now, it felt like every move he made was under a microscope. And somehow, that was starting to feel worse than being wrong.

L. No worries, we'll talk tomorrow.

Louis finally sets his phone down and lets his eyes close, though sleep still feels a long way off.

A dull ache starts to make its way between his eyes up to his forehead.

Great. Just fucking great.

A/N: i’m sorry guys…. other than that, not much to say, hopefully will be able to get the next chapter out tonight as well!!

oh, if any of you like 5sos/luke hemmings too, i have updated my other fic, for the first time since 2022, today with 2 chapters, hopefully will be able to keep updating both of these fics. it’s called:
When the water closed around you.

Chapter 47: Chapter 44

The sun's already begun to dip behind the scaffolding when Louis finds Ashton behind the main trailer, crouched down near the generator with a wrench in hand.

He's alone. Perfect.

"Ashton."

Ashton glances up, pushing sweat-matted hair off his forehead. "Hey, Louis. Thought you'd left."

Louis steps closer, voice low. "Can we talk?"

Ashton reads the change in his tone immediately. He sets the wrench down and stands, brushing his palms on his cargo pants. "Yeah. Everything alright?"

Louis leans back against the trailer wall, arms crossed. "I've been meaning to say something for a while. I should've said it sooner."

Ashton shifts his weight. "Okay?"

"You're a good worker, Ash," Louis says, meeting his eyes. "And you've been solid since day one. I'm lucky to have you on the team."

Ashton gives a small smile. "Thanks."

"But," Louis goes on, slower now, "I think I've blurred some lines I shouldn't have. And I need to be honest with you."

Ashton stiffens. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Louis says quickly. "No, it's not that. You haven't done anything wrong. This is on me. I've talked about you a lot. Praised you a lot. Spent more time than I should've checking in, after hours, on rides, on site. And I think it might've sent the wrong message."

Ashton's smile fades. "What message?"

Louis hesitates. "That this was more than just work. That there's something else going on. And I've got someone at home who's starting to question where I stand."

There's a long pause.

Ashton exhales slowly, looking away. "Is that what this is about? Him?"

Louis's jaw tightens. "It's about me. About the fact that I should've noticed sooner how this might look. How it might feel. To him. To you."

Ashton nods, hands on his hips, but he's not looking at Louis anymore. "You don't have to explain. I get it."

"Ashton-"

"I get it," he says, a little sharper this time. "I'm not stupid, Louis. I know what people think when a new guy gets special attention from the foreman."

"It wasn't special."

"Yeah, it was," Ashton cuts in, finally meeting Louis's eyes. "But I didn't ask for it. I didn't expect anything. I just thought, I don't know. Maybe that you saw something in me."

Louis steps forward. "I do. I meant what I said, you've got real potential. And I care about how you're doing. But I can't ignore how this is affecting my relationship."

Ashton swallows, jaw tight. "So what now? You want me to keep my head down and stay out of your way?"

"No," Louis says, voice soft again. "I just need us to keep it professional. Clearer. Fairer to everyone."

Ashton nods once, stiffly. "Got it, boss."

Louis hates the way that word suddenly sounds like a wall.

He reaches out, but doesn't touch. Just lets his hand hover awkwardly. "I'm not turning my back on you, Ash. I just need to set some boundaries. That's all."

Ashton offers a tired, tight smile. "It's cool. Boundaries are good. I'll see you tomorrow."

He turns and walks back toward the site without waiting for anything more.

Louis stays leaning against the trailer, eyes closed, the noise of drills and steel crashing behind him. He'd said the right thing. The only thing. But somehow, it still felt like a loss.

When he finally pushes himself off the trailer wall, the sky's gone dull and the crew's nearly packed up. Ashton's nowhere in sight.

He doesn't try to find him.

-

The next morning, Ashton's on site early. Earlier than usual, even before the delivery trucks. Didn't need a ride either.

He doesn't linger by the trailer anymore or seek Louis out for sign-offs like he usually does.

He keeps to himself, head down, sleeves rolled up past his elbows as he moves between tasks with sharp, silent focus.

Mark notices first. "He's moving like someone's chasing him."

Louis doesn't answer. He's watching Ashton from across the site, frowning slightly. Every time Ashton finishes a task, he's already two steps ahead, grabbing tools or hauling supplies without being asked. Efficient. Distant.

And completely closed off.

The lightness Ashton usually brings, the one that made him stand out in the first place, is gone. No jokes with the crew, no quiet humming to whatever's playing off someone's speaker, no second glances toward Louis. He just works.

It's a shadow of him.

Louis sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

He got the message.

Too well, maybe.

-

It happens late afternoon. The site's winding down, and the sun has dipped low enough to cast long shadows across the gravel.

Ashton's unloading concrete bags when one splits open mid-lift, powder exploding across his chest and face. It's nothing dangerous, just messy. But something about it breaks the dam.

He slams the bag down hard, harder than necessary, and curses loud enough for a few heads to turn.

Mark raises a brow. "You good?"

"I'm fine." Ashton snaps, wiping at his face with a dusty sleeve. "Fucking thing split on me."

Mark backs off, but Louis has already seen it. He approaches carefully, giving Ashton a moment.

"Hey," Louis says, stepping into the open truck bay. "It's alright. I'll have the supplier credit it."

Ashton turns, eyes red, powdered concrete sticking to his neck. "Can you just not- right now?"

Louis blinks. "Okay."

"I'm trying," Ashton says, breath shaky. "I'm really trying, but I don't know how to show up here and not think about how I messed everything up. How I made things weird. How now even you look at me like I'm the problem."

"You're not the problem," Louis says instantly.

"Then why do I feel like I'm walking around wearing a mistake on my back?" Ashton's voice cracks halfway through, and he shoves both hands into his hair. "I don't even know how to be here anymore without feeling like an idiot."

Louis takes a step closer. "You didn't mess anything up. We hit a complicated spot, that's all. And I maybe handled it too hard, too fast. But Ashton, no one's asking you to erase yourself."

Ashton swallows hard, blinking quickly. "Feels like it."

"I never wanted to make you feel like you had to pull back or keep quiet around me," Louis says. "I was trying to be clear, yeah. But not cold."

Ashton stares at the ground, jaw tight. "It's fine."

"It's not," Louis pushes gently. "And I miss you being you. Light. Loud. You."

Ashton finally looks up at him, eyes guarded. "What am I supposed to do, Louis? Laugh at your jokes and keep pretending I don't feel what I feel?"

Louis flinches, not at the honesty, but at the weight behind it.

"I'm not asking you to pretend," Louis says. "I'm just asking you not to lose yourself in trying to stay out of my way. I care about you. I always will. Just maybe we need to portray it differently than we did before."

Ashton breathes out hard. "Yeah. I know that now."

They stand in silence for a moment, surrounded by the hum of drills and shouts from across the site.

Then Louis adds, voice softer, "It's okay to be upset. But don't let it make you smaller."

Ashton nods. "Okay."

"You're not in this alone," Louis says. "I know it's hard. But it doesn't stay hard forever. And I don't want to lose you as a crew member, or as a person."

Ashton looks down at the ground, fists tight at his sides. "So what do I do now?"

Louis breathes in slow. "You show up. You let yourself be messy. You let people care about you, even if it stings."

Ashton huffs out a laugh that almost sounds like a sob. "You always talk like you've got a damn TED Talk loaded."

Louis chuckles, relieved to hear something familiar. "Maybe I do. Now, keep up the good work Ash."

Ashton sniffs, and nods. "Alright."

He walks off again, this time not as fast, not as brittle. But not back to how it was, either.

Louis watches him go, the ache in his chest dull but steady. The words between them may have softened, but the space hasn't closed.

Not really.

-

The door slams as Louis throws his bag down, shoulders tense, jaw set so hard it looks like it might snap.

He doesn't even look at Harry as he kicks his boots off, one after the other, and lets them thud against the wall. He knows Harry hates when he does that.

Harry's already standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, his whole body braced. "You gonna talk to me, or are you just gonna stomp around all night?"

Louis lets out a sharp breath and snaps, "Damn, Harry, give me a second, yeah?"

Harry doesn't back down. "You've had hours."

Louis whirls around. "Because I've spent those hours picking up the mess you wanted me to make."

Harry blinks. "What are you talking about?"

"I told Ashton we needed boundaries," Louis says. "I drew the line. I pushed him back. Just like you wanted."

Harry frowns. "I didn't tell you to do anything."

"No," Louis bites. "You just looked at me like I had something to confess every time I mentioned his name. Every time I said he did a good job. Every time I gave a shit."

Harry's voice is sharper now. "So you're blaming me because you finally had to admit something felt off?"

"I didn't think anything felt off," Louis snaps. "Not until you made it weird."

Harry freezes, the words hitting like a slap.

Louis doesn't stop. "You asked me if something was going on with Ashton, not even directly, but you implied it, over and over, until I started second-guessing every normal conversation I had with him. Until I felt like I couldn't even say his name without you going cold."

"You were obsessed with him, Louis!" Harry bursts. "Every story, every ride, every fucking joke was about Ashton. You don't even talk about me like that."

Louis recoils like he's been struck. "He was new. He was good. I was proud of him. Why is that a threat?"

Harry throws his hands up. "It's not a threat, it's the way you lit up when you talked about him. The way you acted like he was the only one who understood you."

Louis shakes his head, voice cracking. "You don't know how fucking lonely it is to be in charge, Harry. To carry a whole site on your back and finally find someone who actually gets it, who listens."

"And I don't?" Harry says, wounded now. "You couldn't talk to me instead?"

"I tried!" Louis shouts, voice hoarse. "But every time I opened my mouth about him, you pulled away. So yeah, I stopped talking to you. I talked to him instead."

Silence drops like a hammer.

Louis takes a staggering step back, rubbing his face. "And now I've wrecked that too. I shoved him into a wall he didn't see coming, and he's been unraveling ever since. And for what? To prove I wasn't cheating on you with someone I wasn't even thinking about like that?"

Louis scoffs, "Fuck, Harry. It's amazing how much trust you've put into me."

"Then why did you still set the boundary with him?"

"Because you thought it was a problem," Louis says, voice low now, tired. "Not me. I drew that line for you. Because I didn't want you looking at me like I was unfaithful just for caring."

Harry's jaw tightens. "I never said you were unfaithful."

"You didn't have to," Louis says. "You flinched every time I said his name. Every time I mentioned his work. You pulled away, even when you stayed close."

Harry looks away, lips pressed tight.

Louis keeps going, quieter now. "You think I don't notice that stuff? That I don't carry it with me every time I walk onto site and wonder if a five-minute car ride with Ashton is gonna cost me your trust?"

There's a long silence. The kind that feels like standing at the edge of something that might give way.

"I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to choose," Harry says finally.

"But you did." Louis meets his eyes, voice flat. "You just didn't say it out loud."

Harry nods once, slowly. "I didn't know you didn't see it the same way."

Louis sinks onto the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees. "That's the worst part. I didn't think there was anything to see."

Harry walks over and stands in front of him, unsure whether to reach out or keep distance. "So now what?"

"I don't know," Louis says, without looking up. "I just know I lost something with Ashton I can't get back. And I'm still not sure if it was even necessary."

Harry's voice is soft. "Do you regret choosing me?"

Louis lifts his head, eyes tired but sure. "No. I just wish it didn't feel like I had to prove it."

Harry's voice is a whisper now, all the fight drained into something hollow. "Then why does it feel like you were?"

Louis stops breathing for a second.

He doesn't have an answer. Not one that won't make it worse.

So he says nothing. Just stands there, jaw clenched, chest heaving.

Harry swallows. "You can say you didn't cross a line. Fine. But something was bleeding, Louis. And I wasn't the only one who saw it."

Louis turns away, shoulders trembling, gripping the counter until his knuckles turn white. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Harry's eyes sting. "You already did."

-

The light from the window cuts across the hardwood floor in thin strips. Dust floats in the air, catching the morning sun like it has no idea how thick the air is with things unsaid.

Louis stands at the sink, sipping coffee he barely tastes. He's showered, dressed, boots on, but he hasn't moved in five minutes. Just stands there, staring out the window, jaw tight.

Behind him, the bedroom door creaks open.

Harry walks out, slow and quiet, in an old hoodie, hair messy from sleep or tossing in it.

Louis wouldn't know if Harry slept well. All he knows is that he did not.

They've both slept in their own separate rooms, for the first time in forever.

He doesn't say anything.

Louis doesn't turn around.

He hears the fridge open. The subtle clink of glass. A half-hearted pour of orange juice. Then the soft scrape of a chair as Harry sits at the table, just a few feet away, but it may as well be a mile.

Still, no one speaks.

The sound of a clock ticking in the hallway feels too loud. The refrigerator hums. A neighbor's dog barks distantly.

Louis finally exhales, just enough to fog the edge of his coffee mug. "I've got a long day."

Harry nods, not looking up. "Okay."

Louis swallows. "I'll probably be late."

"Okay," Harry says again, eyes fixed on the table. His fingers trace the edge of a coaster like it might give him answers.

Louis sets his mug in the sink with more force than he means to. The clink echoes.

Still, no one fills the silence.

He looks at Harry for a second, just the side of his face, the slope of his neck. It hits him all over again: how far apart they've drifted in less than twenty-four hours. And how fragile the line is now between a pause and a fracture.

But he says nothing. He picks up his bag, heads toward the door, hand hesitating briefly on the knob.

Harry doesn't ask him to stay a little longer.

Louis doesn't ask if he should.

The door clicks shut behind him.

And this time it feels a little too real. Like it's not only this door closing.

Chapter 48: Chapter 45

The pub is half-empty, music low, the kind of place where nobody's in a rush to leave and the bartender doesn't ask questions.

Harry's already at the back table when Calum walks in, hood up despite the warmth, a frown etched deep into his brow.

He slumps into the seat across from him with a heavy sigh and shrugs off his jacket. "You look like shit."

Harry gives a humorless laugh. "So do you."

Calum flags down the bartender with two fingers, not even asking Harry what he wants, just orders two pints, like he always does.

The silence stretches until the beers arrive, both of them taking a long sip before anyone speaks again.

Then Calum mutters, "Luke came over to grab his stuff."

Harry's brow lifts. "For real?"

Calum nods, staring into his glass. "Yeah. Now my home feels even less like home, you know."

Harry exhales through his nose. "Shit. I'm sorry."

Calum shrugs like it doesn't matter, but his shoulders are too tight for it to be true.

"What about you?" He asks, clearly wanting to change the subject. "You didn't just text me 'wanna grab a drink' at 4pm for fun."

Harry leans back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I think I might've messed things up with Louis."

Calum shifts his jaw, looking over at Harry, eyes squinted a little. "Thought you two were solid."

"Yeah, me too," Harry says quietly. "Until he started talking about this guy on site all the time. Ashton."

Calum raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And I didn't like it." Harry stares at the condensation sliding down his glass. "Didn't like how he smiled when he said his name. Didn't like how proud he sounded."

"Sounds like good old jealous Harry," Calum says, not necessarily unkindly though.

Harry nods slowly. "It was. Still is."

He pauses, then adds, voice tight, "I never accused him of anything. Not outright. But I made it weird. Gave him looks. Went quiet every time Ashton came up. And then eventually, Louis just stopped talking about him. He told Ashton that they needed to stop being close."

"And that felt better?"

"No," Harry says, bitter. "It felt like winning the wrong argument."

Calum lets that sit. Sips his drink.

"Did he cheat?" He asks finally, voice unsure, as if he doesn't believe Louis would do that.

"No," Harry answers without hesitation. "He didn't even cross a line. But I think I made him feel like he had to prove it. And now I don't know. It's like he's not here anymore, even when he is."

Calum tilts his head. "You scared of losing him?"

Harry stares at him, and for a second his eyes go glassy. "I think I already did. I just don't know when."

Calum nods like he understands. Maybe he does. Maybe they both do, in different ways.

"Funny, isn't it?" Calum says after a pause. "We get scared someone else will take 'em, so we push first. And then they leave anyway. Just not for the reasons we thought."

Harry laughs, dry and hollow. "Yeah. That's the kind of irony that makes you want to eat drywall."

Calum snorts. "Write that on a Hallmark card."

They both go quiet again.

Finally, Harry says, "I don't want to be the fucking insecure boyfriend. I just, I saw the way Louis lit up talking about Ashton. And I panicked."

"Did he ever stop lighting up when he talked about you?" Calum asks.

Harry opens his mouth. Closes it. Shrugs. "I don't know anymore. It feels like he did but I probably got in my head too much."

Calum leans back, finishing off his pint. "Louis is different, H. You and me both know that he's not that guy who used you, 10 years ago."

Harry looks down at his half-full glass, the weight in his chest heavier than ever. But maybe a little clearer, too.

"True. It's just hard, you know?" Harry sighs, "It feels like we're strangers again."

"Why's that?" Calum asks, the simple question helping Harry to see what and why he is actually having that feeling.

"We've been so close, and now we're sleeping in fucking separate beds, eating at different times. I feel like I don't even really know anything about his life anymore. And it's been just a few days."

Calum nods, chewing on his cheek. Listening.

"I think fucked it up, fucked us up." Harry rubs his face with his hands.

"You did not." Calum says calmly, "You let him know what worried you, maybe not in the best way but you still have a chance. He loves you H."

"Thanks," Harry says, feeling a little more sure.

Calum gives a small nod. "Don't thank me. I'm about to go back to an empty flat with nothing left of Luke. Just don't be me in six months."

A smile ghosts across Harry's face. Faint. Fragile.

Fuck, that sounds lonely.

"Don't you think it's too late?" He asks, quietly.

Calum doesn't answer right away. Then he says, "Not if you're willing to show up the way he needs. Even if it's not the way you planned."

Harry hesitates for a little bit before speaking up again, "I just- I don't know how to fix something when I don't even know the moment it broke."

Calum leans forward, elbows on the table, voice low. "You don't always need to know the moment. Sometimes you just have to start with showing up and listening. Let him be mad, or hurt, or quiet. Don't defend your actions. Just be there."

Harry huffs out a breath. "That sounds terrifying."

"Yeah, well," Calum says, swirling the last of the foam in his glass, "So is being alone."

Harry falls silent again, fingers tracing the rim of his pint glass. The noise of the pub hums around them, low conversation, the occasional clink of a glass, a distant laugh. But their table stays still, like it's holding its breath.

Harry finally nods slowly, eyes fixed on the grain of the table. "I miss him, Cal. And not just the kisses, or the mornings, or the sex. Fuck, the sex. But I also miss how he used to say my name when he was half-asleep. I miss knowing he'd always pick up, even if it was just to say 'what now, drama queen?'"

Calum gives a quiet laugh. "Sounds like you still love him."

Harry looks up, and there's no hesitation this time. "I do."

"Then you've got your answer," Calum says simply. "You just have to figure out if you're brave enough to tell him."

They sit in silence a little longer. Then Harry downs the rest of his beer and stands.

"I think I need to go fix something," He says.

Calum looks up at him, tired but sincere. "Then go. And don't screw it up."

Harry smiles, just barely. "No pressure."

"None at all," Calum says, raising his empty glass in mock salute.

Harry pulls his jacket back on, glances once toward the door, then back to Calum. "Thanks. Really."

Calum shrugs, eyes distant. "Just don't let fear make you choose the wrong kind of silence."

Clearly thinking about him and Luke.

Harry doesn't answer, he just nods, turns, and walks out into the early evening, the pub door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud.

Calum watches it for a moment, then leans back in his chair and orders another pint.

This time, just for one.

The sky outside is a deepening amber, the streets quiet as Harry pulls his collar up against the breeze and heads home.

-

Meanwhile, miles away, at the site, Louis is finishing up the last of the paperwork, walking the far wing with his clipboard in hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear. The place is quiet, almost peaceful now that most of the crew have cleared out for the day.

Mark has already left the site as well, he'd mumbled something about watching a soccer match tonight or maybe basketball? Nothing Louis would be interested in anyway.

Ashton walks in with a small toolbox, nodding at Louis as he sets it down near the scaffolding.

"Hey," He says, voice low but friendly.

Louis glances up and gives him a tired smile. "Hey. Wrapping up?"

Ashton nods, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Figured I'd tighten a few things before tomorrow. Might save us from a crisis when Mark tries to climb that sketchy rig first thing in the morning."

Louis chuckles. "You're not wrong. Pretty sure that thing's held together by duct tape and denial."

Ashton grins. "Exactly why I brought backup."

Louis watches him for a second. He's always liked working with Ashton, solid, dependable, no ego.

The kind of guy who shows up, does the job, and makes everyone else feel like it's all manageable. Not dramatic. Not complicated.

So it's funny, in a way. That Harry had made him the center of so much quiet tension.

"Hey, Ash?" Louis calls after him, as Ashton starts heading out of the room again.

"Yeah?"

"We're grabbing pizza tomorrow after work. Kind of a wrap party, low-key. You coming?"

Ashton pauses, looking surprised. "Oh- uh, yeah. Sure. If the rest of the crew's in, I'm in."

Louis nods, casual. "Good. Wouldn't be the same without you."

Ashton smiles. "Thanks, mate. Appreciate that."

He lingers for a moment, clearly hesitating.  "Hey, I've been meaning to ask something, actually. That guy you mentioned once- Harry. He your boyfriend?"

Louis looks up, caught slightly off guard. "Yeah. He is. Why?"

Ashton shrugs. "No reason. Just realized I've heard his name now and then but never actually met him. Figured maybe he was the jealous person or something."

Louis frowns faintly. "Jealous?"

Ashton raises his hands, not defensive, just honest. "Nothing weird. Just- Like, I'd talk to you, and then suddenly you were quieter. Kind of seemed like you were trying not to, I don't know. Give the wrong impression? And then you mentioned the relationship at home you needed to fix."

Louis sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Shit. Yeah. That wasn't you. That was- Harry got into his head a bit. Thought there was something going on."

Ashton blinks. "Between us?"

Louis nods. "Yeah."

A beat.

Ashton bursts out laughing, like he didn't hear it correctly. "What?"

Louis cracks a smile. "I know. Ridiculous."

"Mate," Ashton says, grinning, "You literally saw me ask Mark for help with a Tinder message once. I've seen you spill coffee on yourself twice in one day."

"You're the one who spilled paint on your own fucking foot and just kept walking like nothing happened."

"Exactly. We're a disaster duo, not a romantic subplot."

Louis laughs, and it feels good, easy. Then quieter, he adds, "I know that. But I think Harry just didn't know what to do with feeling unsure. He's never even met you. Only knew your name, and that I talked about you sometimes. Maybe a little more than sometimes."

Ashton's expression softens. "Well. Sounds like he cared. Just didn't know how to say it right."

"Yeah," Louis murmurs. "Or maybe I didn't know how to hear it."

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It's Harry.

H. Any chance you're home early tonight? I'd like to talk. Not fight. Just talk.

Louis stares at it for a second, thumb hovering over the screen. Then, he types:

L. okay, i'll be home around 7.

He locks the screen and tucks the phone away before he can second-guess it.

Ashton raises an eyebrow. "Everything alright?"

Louis exhales. "We'll see. I think it's time we stopped pretending things didn't break somewhere along the way."

Ashton gives a small, encouraging nod. "Hope it's not too late."

Louis nods. "Me too."

"See you tomorrow." Ashton leaves with a wave, toolbox under one arm, and Louis is left alone in the quiet room again. The light's started to shift, late afternoon bleeding toward evening, long shadows crawling across the floor.

He exhales slowly and leans against the doorframe, gaze drifting toward the spot where Ashton had been standing.

It hadn't been a big conversation. Nothing intimate. Nothing crossed. But still something nags at him.

Louis pulls out his phone, flicks through a few unread messages about work, then locks it again and shoves it back into his pocket.

He hadn't planned on talking about Harry at all today. Hadn't expected Ashton to bring him up.

And maybe it was stupid, but something about the way Ashton had laughed, genuinely, without malice, had made it feel like a safe moment to say what was true, that Harry had been a bit lost in his own worry.

Still it didn't sit right.

Louis pushes off the doorframe and heads out into the hall, walking slowly through the near-empty site. His boots echo slightly on the concrete. He tries to shake the feeling, but it lingers, tight and low in his chest.

He hated the idea of Harry feeling talked about. Reduced to a quirk. A flaw. That wasn't fair, not when Louis knew how deeply Harry felt things.

How much of his silence was just love trying to survive without the right words.

And now here Louis was, laughing about his boyfriend's misplaced jealousy with a coworker Harry had never even met.

"Bit rich, innit," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Telling Ashton I'm not that guy, while turning Harry into one."

He sighs, slowing as he steps outside. The sun's dipping lower now, casting the site in amber. Louis squints into it, then fishes his car keys from his pocket.

There's still time. Still a chance to meet Harry in the quiet, in whatever conversation was waiting tonight.

He just hopes it isn't too late to un-spin the story they've both been quietly telling themselves about the other.

Because Harry had never really been angry. Just scared.

And Louis, he'd been so busy trying not to feed the insecurity that he forgot to see it for what it was: a signal flare.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late to answer it.

Chapter 49: Chapter 46

The street outside Louis's flat is almost empty, the early evening air crisp but not cold. He stands by the door, fingers curled tight around the handle of his keys, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like the darkening sky.

He's scared to step inside.

Not of what he might find, but of what they might say, or more likely, not say.

The silence between them, thick enough to choke on, seems to have grown a life of its own while he was distracted, trying to prove his loyalty by shutting down conversations about Ashton.

Louis's breath catches when he finally turns the key and pushes the door open.

From the hallway, he hears it, the low hum of music, maybe the same playlist Harry always puts on when he needed to think.

And then, footsteps.

Harry appears from the kitchen doorway, sleeves rolled up, eyes searching. There's something tentative in the way he looks at Louis, like he's hoping for something but afraid to ask for it outright.

Louis's throat tightens. He wants to reach out, to bridge the gap, but the words stick somewhere between hope and fear.

"Hey," Harry says finally, voice soft, breaking the quiet.

"Hey," Louis replies, stepping fully inside, closing the door behind him, as if locking out everything but this moment.

They stand there, a few feet apart, neither quite knowing how to start, the space between them heavy with everything unsaid.

Harry clears his throat. "I- I've missed you," he admits, voice low, fragile.

Louis swallows hard. "Me too."

A pause. Then Louis takes a small step forward.

"So," Harry says, almost like a question, "Where do we start?"

Louis exhales, feeling a flicker of courage ignite.

"Here," He says simply, holding out a hand.

Harry hesitates for a breath, then takes it.

And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to begin.

Harry's fingers curl around Louis' hand as they slowly make their way towards the couch.

Together.

They sit down on the couch, facing each other. The music plays softly behind them, a familiar melody that feels like a fragile thread connecting past and present.

"I'm sorry I doubted you." Harry whispers, breaking the silence, "I was projecting my own insecurities on you."

"I've thought about it a lot these past few days, and I understand what you were saying H. To me Ashton has never been anything more than a coworker, an apprentice that I was really proud of." Louis pauses, fingers slightly trembling. "But now I get what you were trying to tell me with it. I'm sorry for not trying to understand that earlier and shutting you out like that. And I'm sorry I made you feel like you weren't enough. Like you weren't part of something important."

Harry's eyes soften, and he shifts a little closer. "I know you didn't mean to shut me out. But when you stopped talking about Ashton, after lashing out on me, I felt like you were closing a door on me, on us."

Louis nods slowly. "I thought if I didn't bring it up again, it'd stop being a thing. Like I could protect you from that feeling."

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair. "But it didn't protect me. It just made me feel like I was on the outside, wondering if I was losing you."

Louis reaches out, tentatively brushing his fingers over Harry's hand. "I didn't realize how much I was pushing you away, trying to fix things alone."

Harry's voice cracks just a little. "And I was scared to say how it hurt. Scared of sounding jealous or needy."

Harry's eyes flutter closed for a second, taking in the words like a lifeline. "I'm sorry for not trusting you." The words come out of his mouth uneasy, like he had to take a big breath before letting them go. "And I'm sorry for making you put space between you and Ashton."

Louis rolls his bottom lip into his mouth, "Yeah. That really fucking hurt H."

Harry's mouth opens, then closes again. He's not sure how to respond, not when Louis looks like that, torn between anger and heartbreak.

"I- I'm sorry." Harry stammers, "I just- I didn't know what to do."

"It felt very belittling that you made me question my own intentions with Ashton."

Ouch.

Those words hit Harry like a brick. If there's one thing that he never wanted to achieve with this, it's that Louis feels belittled.

"I'm sorry." He stammers, not sure what to say.

Louis nods, "And I understand now where it came from, but it still hurt. I hope next time you'll try to explain it to me better without jumping to conclusion. Communication, right?"

Harry can't but nod. Louis is right, of course he is. "I'll try," Harry then says, voice thick. "Even when it's messy. Especially then."

"I might need some time to get over that part."

"I understand." Harry shakes his head slowly, "I think deep down I knew you didn't mean anything by it, with Ashton and also not with shutting me out, but it felt a little too real."

Harry's voice drops even lower, almost a whisper. "Like maybe I wasn't the one you were holding onto."

Louis's heart twists at that, and he shifts closer, the space between them shrinking to just inches.

"That's never been true," Louis says, voice steady but soft. "I was scared too. Not of you. But of losing us."

Harry swallows hard, eyes searching Louis's face for something steady to hold on to.

"I really missed you," Harry admits, voice raw. "Not just the good parts. The messy, complicated ones too. I missed us."

Louis reaches out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Harry's ear. The touch lingers, warm and grounding. "Me too."

"I don't want to lose what we have," Harry whispers, voice trembling with hope and fear. "But I'm scared it's already slipping."

Louis leans in slowly, his forehead resting against Harry's. "We'll hold on tighter," he promises. "Together."

The tension in the room softens, it's replaced by a fragile but fierce tenderness.

Harry's hand finds Louis's cheek, thumb tracing a gentle circle.

"We can figure it out," Harry says, voice firmer now, "One step at a time."

Louis smiles, a quiet warmth spreading through him. "One step at a time."

Their lips meet in a slow, careful kiss, tentative but filled with everything neither of them had said before. It's a beginning, fragile and true, a wordless promise that they're both willing to try.

Louis leans back, eyes searching Harry's face. "We messed up. But maybe if we start by being honest—really honest—we can figure out what comes next."

Harry nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. No games. No hiding feelings. Just us."

They sit there a moment longer, hands still linked, the music wrapping around them like a promise.

The room feels warmer now, the soft music is filling the spaces where words still hesitate to go.

Louis's fingers trace lazy circles on the back of Harry's hand, sending a shiver up both their spines.

Harry leans in slowly, eyes locked on Louis', searching for permission, reassurance. Louis nods almost imperceptibly, heart hammering.

Their hands slowly part, but only to reach out again, this time, fingertips brushing lightly along cheeks, tracing jawlines as if memorizing every line and curve.

Harry's breath catches, lips barely hovering over Louis's. The air between them thickens with all the words they're too scared or too unsure to say.

Louis watches him closely, searching for any doubt but all he sees is softness. Willingness.

Maybe they've both said enough. Or maybe now, touch will say the rest.

Louis closes the distance, a soft, lingering touch of lips to lips, hesitant, tender, like they're relearning how to be this close.

Harry melts into it, hands finding Louis's waist, pulling him nearer without rushing. Louis moves one leg over Harry's lap so he's straddling him.

It's slow, careful, a dance of rediscovery. A whispered apology, a promise, a confession held in each breath and gentle caress.

The pain and hurt and silence seem to fall away in the quiet intimacy, leaving just the two of them, two broken halves reaching toward whole.

When they finally pull apart, eyes shining, breaths tangled, there's no need for anything but the small, hopeful smile Louis gives.

"I missed this," Harry murmurs.

Louis nods, voice soft but certain. "Yeah. I did too."

And in that quiet, perfect moment, it feels like home again.

They stay close. Harry's fingers curl gently around Louis' hips, pulling him in just a little more, as if afraid to let go again.

Louis tilts his head, letting his forehead rest against Harry's. The warmth of their skin pressed together is a balm after days of distance and silence.

"I've missed you so so much," Louis whispers, voice low, raw.

Harry's lips brush the shell of Louis's ear. "More than I thought I could."

The world outside their flat feels miles away, fading into a gentle blur as they settle into the quiet intimacy between them. It's not just about closeness or touch, it's about trust, about being seen and still wanted.

Harry's hand moves slowly from Louis's waist up to cradle the back of his neck, thumbs tracing slow, soothing patterns along his skin.

Louis's breath hitches when Harry's fingers trail down his cheek, fingers soft but sure. There's an urgency under the gentleness, a quiet hunger to hold on, to heal what's been broken.

Neither of them rushes. Every glance, every small touch feels like a careful step back toward each other, like learning to speak a language they both had almost forgotten.

Harry's eyes flick down to Louis's lips, then back up, silently asking again if it's okay.

Louis nods, and Harry leans in, lips brushing over his in a feather-light kiss that grows a little deeper, a little more certain.

Louis wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders, pulling him close, the familiar scent of him grounding all the restless thoughts and fears.

They move together with a slow, steady rhythm, no pressure, no expectations, just two people rediscovering how to love and be loved, in a world that suddenly feels a little less scary.

It's not for long until the slow kisses become sloppy, needy. Their hands rake over each other.

As if trying to explore each other's bodies before the world ends.

Louis pulls back for a second to catch his breath, "Harry."

Harry nods, "Yeah?"

"Let's finish what you started in the bathroom, all those days ago. All that fucking time we lost."

Chapter 50: Chapter 47

Louis pulls back for a second to catch his breath, "Harry."

Harry nods, "Yeah?"

"Let's finish what you started in the bathroom, all those days ago. All that fucking time we lost."

Harry nods again, too fast, too eager. Like saying yes would patch over everything, if only Louis would let it.

Their lips crash together, urgent, greedy, less about romance, more about trying to fill the ache between them.

For a moment, it works. Until it doesn’t.

Louis pulls back again, now hesitant.

"Something wrong?" Harry asks, suddenly feeling cold without Louis' touch, trying to close the gap between them again because he needs Louis.

But Louis then puts his hand on Harry's chest.

Harry's heart wildly beats beneath his hand, chest heaving. The lust is evident in Harry's eyes, flushed cheeks accentuating it.

Harry's fingers twitch against Louis's body, desperate to pull him close again, to not lose the heat between them. But Louis's hand stays firm, his expression shifting from flushed desire to something heavier.

"I-" Louis bites his bottom lip, looking away for a second before meeting Harry's eyes again. "I'm sorry for starting this. I thought I was ready, but I can't. Not yet."

Harry steps back, his face paling slightly. “But we talked. We said everything that needed to be said, didn’t we?”

"We talked, yes," Louis echoes softly, "But we haven't really moved through it, have we?"

Harry steps back slightly, arms falling to his sides. "You said it wasn't Ashton. You looked me in the eye and told me nothing happened."

"Because there didn't happen anything," Louis says, firm but not defensive. "But you still don't fully believe me, do you?"

Harry hesitates. "I want to believe you."

Louis's expression falters. "But you don't."

"I- I don't know." Harry's voice cracks a little. "I want to. God, I want to so bad."

"Then what is it?" Louis scoffs, "What do you need from me to believe me?”

Harry winces at the sudden sharpness in Louis' voice. "I don't know Louis. We've spent the past few days just, you know, living next to each other. Sleeping next door like strangers who used to love each other. And it didn't give me the feeling that there was nothing going on, I think I needed you to-"

"Needed me to, what?" Louis pries.

"To prove it maybe? That you'd get closer to me instead of distancing yourself and shutting me out? I'm sorry."

"Fuck Harry." Louis exhales slowly, hurt flickering in his eyes. "I thought maybe if I kissed you, if I pulled you close, maybe it'd just go away, the tension, the doubt. But it didn't. Not like that."

Harry swallows, jaw tight. "So what now?"

Louis looks down, his hand still hovering near Harry's chest like he's unsure whether to hold him or walk away. "I don't know. I thought maybe we could fix it with touch, with heat. But it's deeper than that."

"I miss you," Harry whispers. "I miss us. I miss knowing what you're thinking just by looking at you. Now it's like I don't even know where you go in your head when you shut down."

Louis presses his lips together. "I go to the place where I don't have to watch you look at me like you're waiting for me to admit something I never did.”

Silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating.

"I'm not proud of how I handled things," Louis says eventually, quieter. "But you're punishing me by not believing me, that hurts, Harry. I keep thinking maybe if I had handled it differently, you'd still trust me. But I can't go back and rewrite it."

Harry looks down at his hands. "I'm not trying to punish you."

"You are, though," Louis replies gently. "Every time you hesitate, every time you ask a question with that look in your eye, it's like I have to prove myself all over again. And I would. If I thought it would be enough.I hate feeling like I’m not doing enough for you to trust me.”

Harry's voice is small now. "I don't want to lose you."

“Harry.” Louis breathes out, grabbing his hand for a moment. “I don’t want to lose you, us, either. But I need some time. I genuinely do understand where this part of your behavior comes from, but that doesn’t take away the fact that it hurt me. And I want you, fuck, I want you so fucking bad right now. But I can’t.”

Harry’s eyes narrow a little, as if looking between the lines to find what Louis means. Because id it were up to Harry, Louis knows, they would not have this conversation right now.

“I can’t let myself have you without the air being fully cleared. I need time to process. Need time to reflect where it went wrong. Because I feel like we’re on a different wave length right now and I hate it.” Louis reaches out again, just a brush of fingers against Harry's wrist. "So, maybe we have to stop trying to rush back to who we were. Maybe we just figure out who we are now. Together. Slowly. We need to get to know each other more, see what each of us can do for the other to feel seen, heard and comfortable.”

Harry nods, biting the inside of his cheek. "That sounds like it'll hurt."

"It probably will," Louis agrees, with a tired smile. "But I'd rather do that than pretend we're okay just because we kissed."

Harry breathes out a shaky laugh. "Yeah. Okay."

Louis leans in, not to kiss him, but just to rest his forehead against Harry's. "We'll get there. Just not tonight."

Harry closes his eyes, the contact grounding. "Okay. Not tonight."

They stand like that, forehead to forehead for a while.

Trying to find their connection.

Something that might survive.

Chapter 51: Chapter 48

Honestly, Louis despises himself.

He's at work again, they're having a coffee break with the crew. And he's currently laughing at some stupid joke Ashton made, cringing at some comment that Mark threw in, chuckling at Mark and Ashton annoying each other.

On the outside he looks okay. Fine even.

But deep down, inside, he feels disgusted with himself.

He knows that Harry needs him right now, but he can't seem to get himself to get to it.

He knows Harry didn't mean it like that. Yes, it hurt, but that didn't mean that Louis had to turn against Harry and retract himself out of his life immediately. The least he could've done is actually listening to where that fear came from.

The night they 'made up' is already a week or so ago, after a weird week an uneventful weekend passed in which they both did their own thing.

On Saturday Louis went out with Stella and came back drunk completely off his face drunk.

He spent the whole Sunday in bed being miserable.

Now it's Monday and Louis is back to work again. With a pounding, self induced headache due to his excessive drinking. Or you know, drowning himself in alcohol actually.

He's trying to shut out every thought, he pretends he's fine with all of it. With how everything is going right now.

Because Louis isn't stupid, he feels the way Harry walks on eggshells around him. Waiting for Louis to make the first move, as though he doesn't want to trespass into Louis' space again without being given the green light for it.

He's not sure why he keeps his distance now more than ever before. But he just does.

He knows Harry needs that touch, needs that intimate connection to feel wanted.

But Louis can't bring himself to offer it. Not because he doesn't want to, God, he wants to, but because he doesn't trust himself not to ruin it all over again.

There's this knot in his chest, coiled tight like it's holding back something ugly and dangerous.

Guilt, maybe. Fear.

That sick feeling that he's already let Harry down too many times and touching him now would just be selfish. Like he's taking something he hasn't earned back yet.

He catches himself rereading old texts sometimes, scrolling back through blurry photos and inside jokes that now sit heavy on his chest.

They were easy then. Things were simple, or at least, simpler.

They've never been simple.

Now, it's different. Every glance Harry gives him feels hesitant, like he's bracing for impact. Like he's wondering if Louis is going to vanish again, emotionally.

Louis knows Harry's trying. Knows he's giving Louis space. But it only makes the silence louder.

At night, when Louis lies in bed staring at the ceiling, he imagines reaching out. Imagines pulling Harry close and just letting himself feel something without overthinking it to death.

But the fear always wins.

So he stays still. Quiet. Distant.

And the fact they're both in their own rooms again doesn't make things easier either.

He can't just roll over and curl into Harry's chest. He can't just reach out and let his fingertips glide over Harry's skin.

And every day that passes, he feels a little more like he's watching everything good slip through his fingers, too afraid to grab hold of it again.

"Louis?"

"Earth to Louis?" Suddenly Louis blinks, and realizes he's being spoken to.

He looks up to find Ashton waving in front of his face. "You okay there mate?"

Louis looks around, finding they're the only ones left in the canteen.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." He tries to smile but it comes out more of a grimace.

Ashton raises his brow as he tugs at a dark red strand of hair, "Yeah sure."

Louis sighs, Ashton seems to read him too well.

Too easily, in fact.

"Is this about Harry?" Ashton asks, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze steady in that annoyingly perceptive way of his.

Louis had told Ashton a little about what happened with Harry, maybe needing a friend to confide in without them taking any sides immediately like Luke or Stella may have done.

Louis swallows, jaw ticking as he avoids Ashton's eyes and busies himself with the empty coffee cup in his hands. He turns it in slow, nervous circles against the table.

"Didn't realise it was that obvious," He mumbles.

Ashton snorts softly. "Mate, you haven't been yourself in days. You laugh, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You show up to work early, leave late and you stare off into space like you're waiting for someone to come snap you out of it."

Louis's fingers still on the cup. Ashton's voice isn't judgmental, it's just calm. Honest.

That's the worst part. It means Louis can't deny any of it.

"He's- I don't know what to do," Louis says, voice so low he's not even sure Ashton hears it. "He's still there. Still trying. And I'm the one who's not. I feel like I should fix it, but I don't know how without breaking it more."

Ashton tilts his head, and after a beat, says gently, "Then maybe stop thinking of it as fixing something. Maybe it's not broken. Maybe he's just waiting."

Louis lets out a dry laugh. "Waiting for what? For me to stop being scared of my own boyfriend? Or my own fucking feelings?"

"Maybe just waiting for you to let him in again."

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Louis has built this wall, this quiet fortress of guilt and self-loathing, convinced it's protecting Harry from being hurt again.

But all it's really done is isolate them both.

He glances at the clock on the wall. Almost time to head back to supervise a new sector with Mark.

He thinks maybe tonight, maybe he won't pretend.

Maybe tonight, when he gets home and sees Harry, he won't just nod awkwardly and shut himself away in his room.

Maybe he'll stop waiting for the right moment and just try.

Even if his hands shake. Even if he fumbles the words. Even if it scares the shit out of him.

Because the silence is starting to feel a lot like goodbye.

"Thanks Ash." Louis smiles, getting up out of his chair.

"Anytime." The red haired guy is already halfway out of the door when he replies.

-

The flat is quiet when Louis walks in.

Too quiet.

He closes the door softly behind him, drops his keys into the bowl by the entryway, and kicks off his boots with a heaviness that seems to have settled into his bones.

The smell of something warm and vaguely tomato-y lingers faintly in the air. He follows it instinctively to the kitchen, where he finds a clean pan drying on the rack and two empty wine glasses still sitting on the counter, only one of them used.

His heart sinks.

Harry's plate is already washed and drying too. His wine glass has that faint pink stain on the rim that Louis has memorised, has kissed off his mouth a hundred times before.

He opens the fridge, almost half-hoping there'll be a container of leftovers with a sticky note that says something dumb like 'eat this or I'll kill you.'

But there's nothing.

Just ingredients. A few eggs. Half a pack of pasta. A bottle of oat milk he knows Harry bought for him.

And it hits him harder than it should.

He's never come home to Harry having eaten without him before since they've been together.

Never had to make dinner by himself in this place they built together. Even on the bad days, Harry would wait, or at least text, or offer to make something for them both.

This silence, this quiet detachment, it feels colder than the empty kitchen.

Louis grips the edge of the counter for a moment, his head spinning.

Fuck.

He tries to breathe out slowly but chokes om his own breath while doing so.

See? That little voice in his head asks. This is what happens when you push them away, eventually they leave. They all do.

There's nothing he can do.

Louis stands in the kitchen realizing he's going to have to cook for himself. And he hates that this is what gets him. Not the big arguments or the hard silences, but this small, practical change that suddenly feels like a canyon between them.

He opens the fridge and stares at it like it's personally offended him. There's leftovers, maybe, but he doesn't touch them. Feels wrong to eat something Harry made without even knowing when it happened.

So he grabs eggs. Bread. Simple things.

But his hands are shaky, and the oil splatters on the pan, and the toast gets a bit too dark. He tries to pretend he doesn't care, but by the time he's sitting at the kitchen table with a plate in front of him, his chest is tight and he can barely swallow around it.

He picks at the food, barely tasting it, the ache in his chest growing heavier.

This wasn't supposed to happen. This silence between them, this polite distance.

Harry always waited.

Always left a plate, always called out when Louis got in.

The fact that he didn't tonight says more than any conversation could.

It says that Harry's tired of it. Tired of him.

Louis rests his elbow on the table and presses his fingers into his temple, jaw tight.

He doesn't want this to become normal.

He doesn't want separate dinners and quiet nights and rooms with doors always shut.

He wants Harry. Messy, open, loud Harry. Wants to deserve him again.

He just doesn't know how to get from here to there.

Louis pushes the plate away without finishing. The food tastes like ash, or maybe it's just the weight of everything else sitting heavy in his chest.

He runs a hand through his hair and looks toward the living room, where the door to Harry's room is closed like a silent wall between them.

He wants to call out. Wants to say something, anything, that could break the quiet. But the words feel stuck in his throat, tangled up with fear and guilt.

Instead, he drags his chair back and leans forward, resting his forehead against the cool kitchen table.

Why can't he just fix this?

He hates feeling like this, helpless, disconnected.

Like he's trapped in a loop of mistakes and silence with no way out.

He thinks back to the nights they used to stay up talking until dawn, laughing about stupid things, making plans for the future without a care in the world.

Where did that Louis go? The one who could just be with Harry without second-guessing every move?

He wishes he could reach through the door and pull Harry close, tell him he's sorry for being distant, for making it hard. But the distance between them feels too wide, and the fear of rejection too sharp.

Louis sighs, stands, and quietly washes the dishes. The clinking of plates and running water fills the silence, but it doesn't feel like enough.

He wants to be brave. Wants to be the Louis Harry needs. But for now, all he can do is wait and hope that Harry still believes in them both.

But he's not so sure about that.

When Louis finishes drying the last plate, his fingers linger on the dishtowel a little too long.

The flat is still silent, but it's a different kind of silence now, not angry, not even cold. Just tired. Like the whole place is holding its breath.

He paces through the space, slow and unsure, stopping in front of Harry's door.

His hand hovers over the handle, but he doesn't touch it. Not yet.

Instead, he leans his forehead against the wood, breathes in deep like he can somehow draw courage from the grain under his skin.

"Harry?" he says quietly, so softly he's not sure if it even carries through.

There's no answer.

He stays there anyway, eyes closed.

"I know I've been fucking awful. I know I keep pulling back and pretending I don't care when all I really want to do is fall apart in front of you."

A pause.

"I don't know how to be better yet. But I want to try."

His voice cracks, just a little.

"I miss you."

That one stings. Saying it out loud feels like pulling off a scab.

"I miss us." He adds.

Still no response.

He pushes away from the door slowly, letting his hand brush it once before turning around and walking back toward the living room.

But halfway down the hall, a soft click stops him.

He turns.

Harry's door opens, just a crack, and then, after a breathless second, a little wider.

Harry stands there, in a worn hoodie and joggers, curls slightly mussed like he's been lying in bed too long. His eyes are tired, but they're soft too.

He doesn't speak. Doesn't need to.

He just looks at Louis, lips parted, chest rising slowly.

Louis takes a step forward.

Then another.

And another, until they're only a foot apart, the overhead light casting soft shadows over both of them.

"I burnt the toast," Louis says, because he doesn't know how else to begin.

Harry lets out a quiet huff of something like a laugh. His eyes flicker downward, then back up. "You always do."

Louis swallows. "Yeah."

A long beat.

Then Harry asks, just above a whisper, "Are you coming in?"

It feels like something shifts. Like the crack in the door is also a crack in the wall between them that Louis felt he built.

Louis nods. "Yeah. If that's okay."

Harry steps back, wordless.

It's not forgiveness. Not yet.

But it's something.

And for the first time in days, Louis lets himself follow without a second thought.

The door clicks shut behind them with a soft finality, the sound quiet but echoing in Louis' chest like thunder. He stands there for a moment in the low light, barely breathing, heart pounding hard enough he swears it echoes in his ears.

It's dark, but not cold. The air feels warm, lived-in, like Harry's presence is enough to keep the chill away. Still, Louis doesn't move yet. His hands hover awkwardly by his sides, unsure.

Too much time has passed since this space felt familiar and sace. Since Harry's room felt like something that belonged to both of them instead of something Louis locked himself out of.

He catches sight of the messy throw blanket on the chair, Harry's phone plugged in near the nightstand, the faint smell of whatever candle Harry always lights before bed. Familiar. Domestic. And suddenly Louis is overwhelmed by how much he's missed all of it.

Not just missed, he ached for it. In that bone-deep, unbearable way.

Harry climbs back into bed with an ease Louis doesn't feel yet. His movements aren't cold or cautious, but they're not casual either. Just gentle. Like he's making space but not assumptions. He shifts toward the far side of the bed and, after a moment, lifts the duvet.

That single, wordless gesture nearly undoes Louis.

Not an invitation.

A homecoming.

He moves before he can talk himself out of it. Peels off his hoodie and sweats, down to his t-shirt and boxers, bare legs goosebumping slightly in the still air. And then, slowly, he slides beneath the covers.

It feels like slipping into something half-remembered from a dream.

Warmth. Soft sheets. The faint rustle of Harry adjusting to make room for him. The way their knees brush just slightly beneath the covers.

His whole body goes tense, like it doesn't remember how to do this. How to be held. How to let himself be held.

Louis swallows hard, his gaze fixed on the ceiling even though he can feel Harry beside him. Can feel the steady inhale-exhale of his breathing. Not touching, not yet, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

He wants to reach out, but the fear is still there, lodged sharp in his chest like glass. The fear that Harry is letting him in out of kindness. That this is a mercy, not a mending.

But then he thinks about the empty wine glass on the counter. The single plate drying. The quiet of the kitchen and the ache it left behind. And he realizes he can't let this moment pass untouched.

Not again.

So he reaches out, slow and cautious, letting his fingertips trace the edge of Harry's forearm.

And the moment he makes contact, it's like a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding finally releases.

Harry doesn't pull away. If anything, he shifts closer, just slightly, giving Louis permission to close the distance. Louis's hand slides up over his arm, his shoulder, finding a resting place in the familiar curve of his upper back.

That's when Harry exhales, long and quiet, like maybe he's been holding his breath too.

Then, he moves. Turns into Louis, slow and soft, and lets him curl into his chest like it's the most natural thing in the world.

And God, Louis nearly cries with his head safely into Harry's chest.

Because this, this is what he's been starving for. Not sex. Not apologies. Just this. The press of Harry's body against his. The soft way his curls tickle Louis' skin. The subtle shift of his weight as he tucks his arm around Louis, like he's always belonged there.

Louis wraps an arm around him instinctively, pulling him closer until their legs tangle and their chests rise in sync.

And suddenly, it's like he can breathe again.

The wall he's been holding up cracks, splinters down the middle, and he presses his mouth into Harry's chest, breathing in deep like it'll anchor him.

He lets the silence stretch a bit before speaking, his voice low, raw around the edges. "I didn't think you'd want this anymore."

Harry doesn't move, but Louis feels his hand curl into the hem of his shirt. A grounding point.

"I've wanted this every night," Harry whispers, like it's the simplest truth in the world.

Louis closes his eyes, his throat tightening, shame pooling heavy in his stomach.

"I thought touching you again would be selfish. Like I was asking for something I hadn't earned back yet."

Harry shifts, just slightly, enough to press his forehead against Louis's neck.

"Then why now?"

Louis is quiet for a long second. The words form slow, one by one.

"Because I realized I'd rather be terrified next to you than safe alone."

He feels Harry's breath hitch against his skin. Hears the soft sound of agreement that doesn't quite make it into words.

They don't need to say more than that tonight.

Because right now, Louis doesn't feel like a storm. Doesn't feel like the danger he's convinced himself he is. He feels held. Chosen. Here.

And maybe he doesn't know how to fix all the damage. Not yet. Maybe there's still so much to unpack, so much to mend between them. But tonight, this small, quiet moment in Harry's bed, it's a start.

And when Harry's breathing evens out against his body, warm and trusting, Louis lets himself believe, for the first time in days, that maybe he hasn't lost everything after all.

He presses one last kiss into Harry's chest.

Then closes his eyes.

And finally, finally sleeps.

Chapter 52: Chapter 49

"You seem different. Happier even?" Mark throws the casual comment at him like its nothing. Looking at him with questioning, narrowed eyes the moment he plops down in the passenger seat of Louis' work van. "What happened? Finally got some good sex?"

Louis groans, "It's fucking 6.30am, man, don't interrogate me like that yet."

Mark grins, playfully pushing Louis' shoulder. "Man, lately you've been sitting here like you've just barely made it to mine and had had to restrain yourself from driving off the first bridge in sight."

Louis rolls his eyes and pulls out of the driveway. "I guess."

"Yeah you fucking guess." Mark says, "So? Tell me then?"

Louis thinks about not telling him for a moment but then decides against it, knowing Mark, he's going to be pushy about it the whole day. "I- uhm, things were not well between me and Harry, but now maybe they're getting better? Not even sure about it but the air felt lighter today."

"Oh." Mark rolls his eyes, sarcastically disappointed, "Not even some good sex involved then?"

Louis just sticks up his middle finger at that, just as he pulls into Ashton's street.

"Morning." The guy says as he slides into the seat next to Mark.

"Morning." They both reply.

Mark and Ashton immediately start bickering about their favorite football teams who have a match tonight, as Louis drives them to the part of town they're starting a new project today.

Louis doesn't join in on the football debate. Instead, he tunes them out, letting their back-and-forth fill the van while his eyes stay on the road.

His thoughts wander back to that moment last night, him walking away from the door.

Wondering if Harry had heard or not. And then Harry opening the door for him.

Inviting him in again.

No words. Just space, shared again.

It hadn't fixed anything. But it hadn't felt like pretending, either.

"Lou, you hearing this?" Mark nudges him with a grin. "Ashton thinks they have a shot tonight. Absolute delusion."

Louis huffs, still half in his own head. "They'll choke in the second half. Like always."

Ashton scoffs from next to Mark. "You're just bitter 'cause your lot couldn't finish a goal last match if their lives depended on it."

Mark snaps his head to argue, but Louis just rolls his eyes and keeps driving. The usual noise fills the van, friendly insults, football stats, and muffled laughter. The routine of it settles something in him.

It's strange, feeling this okay.

Like okay, maybe things at home aren't fixed, but at least they're not broken in the same, unbearable way.

"Hey," Mark says suddenly, as they stop at a light, "Seriously though, if things are turning around, I'm glad. You've looked like a kicked dog for days."

Louis glances at him, a little caught off guard by the sincerity, but nods. "Yeah. Me too."

He feels Ashton look over at him but decides to ignore it. They'll talk later.

The light turns green. He drives on and they finally arrive at the part of town they have to work on.

They park just off a narrow residential street, the kind where every house looks like it's been half-forgotten, cracked paint, overgrown hedges, satellite dishes clinging like barnacles.

The van doors creak as they climb out, stretching limbs stiff from the ride and early hour.

Mark slams the door shut with his foot. "God, I forgot how grim this place is." The door slam echoing in the abandoned streets.

"Could be worse," Ashton mutters, eyeing the house they've been assigned. "We could be the ones living in it."

Louis pops open the back of the van, grabbing his tool belt. "Let's not be dicks, yeah? People still live here."

Mark raises a brow at him, surprised. "Since when are you the voice of compassion?"

Louis shrugs. "Just, some people are going through shit. Doesn't always show from the outside."

Mark gives him a look but doesn't push it, instead tossing a glance at Ashton like 'what's that about?'

Ashton, to his credit, just pulls on his gloves and says nothing. But definitely catching on to the underlying meaning of Louis' words though.

They start unloading gear, walking up the uneven path to the house. The job today is insulation work and ripping out damp drywall, messy, loud, and long. They've done worse, though.

Inside, it's dim and smells faintly of mildew. The kind of pungent smell that clings to your clothes by lunchtime. Mark swears under his breath when he spots the water damage on the ceiling.

As Louis lays out the drop cloths, he feels a buzz in his pocket. He pulls out his phone. One new message from Harry:

H. Thanks for last night.

It's nothing big. No apology, no heart-to-heart.

But it makes Louis' chest feel weirdly full, like something's quietly untangling inside him.

Louis stares at the screen for a long moment, letting the words settle.

It shouldn't mean much. Maybe it doesn't.

But somehow, it makes something in his chest come undone, like a knot loosening one careful thread at a time.

His thumb hovers, as if wanting to reply, but there's nothing to say. Not yet. Not until they figure out what this even is.

He smiles. Just a little. Small, unsure, but real.

Then he locks the screen and slips the phone back into his pocket.

"Right," He says, clapping his hands together, "Let's ruin our lungs and our backs, yeah?"

Mark groans dramatically. "You always know how to get us pumped."

They get to work, the scrape of metal tools and the thud of boots filling the space. And as Louis tears the first section of drywall from the wall, he realizes something:

Today might be crap.

But it's not heavy. Not in that suffocating, dragging way it used to be.

And that, in its quiet little way, feels like something close to hope.

And Louis holds on to that hope for the rest of the day. Even when removing the last stubborn patch of drywall, even when the dust chokes his throat and the back of his neck aches, that small flicker stays lit.

It's quiet. It's fragile. But it's there.

That's also when a plan ripens in his head.

They need time together, like actually, really together.

Away from the heavy silence that's been settling like a storm cloud between them. Away from awkward texts and half-heard apologies. Away from everything that's been chipping away at what they once had.

Louis thinks back to those first few days they spent at the cabin last Christmas, no distractions, no excuses, just them and the cold crackle of the fire, the endless stretch of pine trees, and the slow, steady comfort of each other's presence. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. It was something worth fighting for.

He thinks about that memory with something like grief as well, how he had decided to push Harry like that and used Calum for it. He's not proud of that, he wish he could redo that night.

But the memory is also something very bittersweet at the moment. The days before Zayn and Calum had arrived, it had been magical.

He's just wanting to hold on to those thoughts rather than the others, but the truth can't be erased.

But maybe the future holds something else.

He pulls out his phone again and stares at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He types and deletes a few lines, unsure how to say it just right.

Finally, he taps send.

L. hey. what do you think about getting out of town for a couple of days? just us two. no work, no people, no distractions.

The reply comes almost instantly.

H. I'd like that. A lot.

Louis breathes out, the weight in his chest shifting, just a little lighter.

Maybe this trip won't fix everything. Maybe it won't even fix anything.

But it's a start.

And sometimes, that's all you need.

-

Later that evening, Louis unlocks the front door, the quiet click echoing through the apartment.

He steps inside, boots scraping softly on the floor as he drops his keys on the kitchen counter. The place feels warmer somehow, less empty than it did a week ago.

A mouth watering smell lingers in the kitchen, it's clear that Harry made food again.

Harry's there in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the couch, a book in one hand but eyes lifted the moment Louis walks in.

"Hey," Louis says, voice a little unsure. He's not sure about anything at all right now, maybe he's ruined everything.

"Hey." Harry sets the book down and pats the space next to him.

Louis hesitates, then moves closer, sitting down.

They sit in a quiet rhythm for a moment, just close enough to feel the space between them shrinking.

"So," Harry begins, his voice soft. "Got your message."

Louis nods. "Yeah. I was thinking, maybe a couple of days away. Like the time at the cabin."

Harry smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and softens his whole face. "I like that idea."

Louis leans back, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't want to pretend everything's okay. I know it's not. But maybe some time away might help us.."

"Breathe," Harry finishes for him.

"Yeah," Louis agrees. "Just be us again, without all the noise."

Harry reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Louis' ear. "I want that too."

They don't say much after that as they go on to have dinner in the kitchen, but the tension in the room feels different, lighter, like the first fragile thread of connection weaving back.

Louis thinks maybe this trip isn't just a getaway from the city, or from their problems.

Maybe it's a chance to start fresh.

And Louis is willing to take that chance, even if it's just to remember who they were before the noise.

Chapter 53: Chapter 50

The sky is already hinting at sunset with blending blues, dark oranges and reds as Louis and Harry finally drive into the small coast town they're staying at.

It's been a long drive, filled with laughter, loads of traffic and sharing too many sweets. It truly was better than Louis could have wished for. But now they've both run out of energy.

A sleepy sounding Harry guides Louis through the small streets of the town towards their destination.

The gravel crunches underneath the car once Louis drives up to the beach cottage they rented. They park next to the stairs leading up to the cottage.

Louis whistles under his breath as he steps out of the car, stretching out his arms to relieve his painfully tired body from the tension. He breathes in the salty air deeply. "It's beautiful here."

Harry practically rolls himself out of the car, barely awake at this point. "Yeah." He nods, surely not seeing anything at this point. His eyes are heavy, weighing down his sight.

Louis softly smiles at him and opens the trunk of the car to get their stuff. He tosses both their duffel bags to Harry and carries their carry ons himself.

It's almost dark now but the yellow lantern next to the door illuminates the stairs.

"Let's go up."

"Mm." Harry mumbles, slowly dragging one leg in front of the other when making his way to the stairs.

Louis walks behind him, grinning a bit to himself. He loves when Harry is all sleepy and grumpy, it's so sweet.

As they've—finally—made it up the stairs, Louis finds the key box next to the door and unlocks it to get the key.

They both get inside and are met with a very cozy looking cottage. Louis flicks on the lights, and the soft glow reveals a small living room with worn wooden floors, a plush cream sofa piled with throw pillows, and a coffee table stacked with well-loved books and seashells collected from previous visitors.

The faint scent of linen from an air freshener nearby blends with the ocean breeze sneaking through the slightly open window.

Harry stumbles toward the kitchen nook, where a little counter with a kettle and some mugs sit ready for morning tea.

Louis runs his hand along the smooth countertop, taking in the quiet calm of the space.

"Bathroom's just down the hall," Louis whispers, nodding towards the door on the right. Harry barely registers it, already rubbing his eyes as he leans against the wall.

They both brush their teeth, although Harry might have done it less thoroughly than usual.

Louis moves them on through the hallway, gently pushing open the door to their bedroom.

The bed is large and inviting, layered with soft linens and a thick, knitted blanket. A small bedside table holds a lantern and a few novels.

"Go ahead and crash," Louis says softly, dropping their bags by the foot of the bed.

Harry doesn't say a word, gets out of his jeans and then just shuffles over and collapses onto the mattress with a relieved sigh. Louis sits beside him for a moment, watching the rise and fall of Harry's breathing as sleep quickly claims him.

Louis stands again and quietly pulls the curtains closed, leaving just a sliver of the moonlight to peek through, then kicks off his shoes, ready to settle in himself.

He strips out of his clothes until he's just in his boxers, the combination of the amount of bedding and Harry will definitely keep him warm.

"It's going to be a good stay," Louis exhales, like a wish, a manifestation, as he's settling down beside Harry, already feeling the peacefulness of the place wrap around them both.

He curls into Harry's side, fingers grasping onto Harry's hoodie for comfort.

But the sleep doesn't come so quickly for Louis.

He turns and turns. His body is screaming for rest but his mind is going at full speed still.

He blames it for having driven most of the journey here, resulting in his brain being so focused for so long it's hard to get out of it so quickly.

But maybe there's also the thoughts and doubts circling in his head.

Was it a good idea for them to come here now?

Is Harry ever going to fully trust him? That question specifically, burns in his mind.

Can their differences be solved?

Louis sighs as he turns around again, he really feels pathetic sometimes. Not knowing where they stand is killing him inside.

Are they ever going to be a normal couple with their issues?

Harry stirs beside him, Louis holds his breath, feeling guilty because maybe Harry woke up from his turning.

"Lou?" Harry breathes out, his hand patting the mattress, looking for Louis' hand beneath the sheets. And as soon as he finds his hand he squeezes it, a reassuring gesture Louis really needed.

Because that hand squeeze says Harry is still there, even if he's doing it in his sleep.

Louis bites his lip staring up at the ceiling with burning eyes.

He feels the quiet pulse of Harry's steady breathing next to him, the warmth radiating from his body beneath the linen.

Slowly, Louis turns back toward Harry, his fingers tightening around the soft fabric of the hoodie. The moonlight faintly outlines Harry's peaceful face, softening every worry, every doubt swirling inside Louis's mind.

"Hey," Louis whispers, his voice barely louder than a breath. "I'm here."

Harry's eyes flutter open just a little, the sleepy haze still thick but a gentle smile curling at the corners of his lips.

Louis shifts closer, careful not to wake him fully, but close enough to feel the comfort of being together.

"It's okay," Louis murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

Harry's hand finds Louis's again, giving it a small squeeze in return before he drifts back into sleep.

Louis lets out a shaky sigh, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit.

Outside, the ocean whispers against the shore, rhythmic and endless, like the quiet promise of new beginnings.

And tonight, wrapped in the stillness of this small cottage by the sea, Louis finally allows himself to believe in that promise.

Even if it is just for the night.

-

The sun is already high in the sky as Louis wakes up the next morning, he immediately turns to find Harry but the bed is empty.

Panic sparks for just a second, until he hears the soft clink of dishes and the low hum of a familiar voice singing off-key from the kitchen.

Louis blinks, eyes adjusting to the daylight pouring in through the crack in the curtains. The bed is warm where Harry used to be, the knitted blanket still pulled up high around Louis's waist. The comfort of the room slowly sinks in again, grounding him.

He pushes himself up on one elbow, hair a mess and eyes still heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes before he can stop it, and he runs a hand over his face, stretching out the tiredness.

The smell of coffee drifts in, strong and rich, followed by something sweet, pancakes maybe? Jam?

He hears Harry's voice again, now a soft hum trailing off into a little whistle. The gentle domesticity of it all makes Louis's chest ache in the nicest way.

He pulls on a pair of sweats from his bag and pads quietly down the hall toward the kitchen.

Harry stands by the stove, hair pulled into a loose bun—half his hair falls out of—wearing a hoodie that's definitely Louis's and a pair of joggers that are definitely not his own either.

He's got a mug in one hand and is focused on flipping something in the pan.

Louis leans against the doorframe, watching him with a soft smile. "You let me sleep in."

Harry jumps a little, then glances over his shoulder with a sleepy grin. "Morning, you."

"Afternoon, more like," Louis chuckles, stepping closer. "What time is it?"

"Almost one," Harry shrugs. "You needed it. You barely slept last night, yeah?"

Louis rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. "Yeah. I- I didn't mean to knock out that hard though."

Harry sets the pan aside and turns toward him fully. "You've been driving, worrying, overthinking. I knew if I woke you up you'd pretend you weren't tired."

Louis walks into his arms, burying his face into the familiar warmth of Harry's chest. "You know me too well."

Harry chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around him. "Knew that before we even got here."

They stay like that for a moment, swaying slightly to the sound of the waves outside, the smell of breakfast and ocean air surrounding them.

Louis tilts his head back to look up at him. "What're you making?"

"Pancakes," Harry grins. "Blueberry ones."

"Bet it's perfect."

Harry leans down and presses a kiss to Louis's forehead. "It's not. But I saved you the good pieces."

Louis laughs, letting the warmth of the moment soak in fully this time. No tension in his chest, no spiraling thoughts. Just Harry, sunlight, and the slow, quiet rhythm of a morning made gentle by love.

"What do you want to do today?" Harry asks once they're sitting down on the veranda outside, to eat.

Louis yawns into his elbow, "Honestly?"

Harry rolls his eyes, "No, lie to me please."

"Okay then, I want to go out and do all the possible things in the world."

"So, you want to stay home and read?" Harry asks, voice barely masking the glint of hope in his words.

Louis nods, chewing on a piece of pancake. "Yeah, I'm tired and I'd love to just sit out here, or on the beach even and do nothing."

"Solid plan," Harry replies with a grin, taking a bite of his pancake.

They sit side by side on the weathered wooden chairs of the veranda, plates balanced in their laps, mugs of coffee resting on the little table between them.

The sea stretches out just beyond the edge of the low railing, waves gently rolling in like they're in no hurry at all, like they know there's nowhere else to be.

Louis leans back with a sigh, letting the sun hit his face. It's warm, not too harsh yet, and the breeze is cool enough to keep things feeling fresh. It smells like salt and sugar and comfort.

"This is nice," He mumbles after a moment, looking out toward the water.

Harry hums in agreement. "I think I like us slow."

Louis glances at him, brow raised gently. "Yeah?"

Harry looks back, eyes a little softer. "Yeah. Not just here, though this helps. I mean, us. When we're not trying so hard to make something happen. When it's just this. Simple."

Louis takes a second to let that sink in. He knows what Harry means.

The last few weeks had been full of trying, trying to fix things, trying to be better, trying to stay on the same page. And it was exhausting sometimes. Not because they weren't worth it, but because it had all felt like a tightrope walk.

But this morning? With Harry humming badly in the kitchen, wearing Louis's hoodie, saving him the better pancakes, it felt like solid ground again.

"I like us slow too," Louis says quietly, sliding his hand across the armrest to brush his fingers against Harry's.

They sit like that in silence for a few minutes, letting the morning stretch itself out, long and wide and golden.

Eventually, Harry stands and takes their empty plates inside, and Louis follows after, brushing his hand lightly along Harry's back as he passes.

The rest of the day unfolds in the way perfect slow days do.

Reading side by side on the beach wrapped in oversized sweaters, toes buried in the sand, sharing quiet thoughts in between chapters, dozing off under a striped umbrella.

Louis wakes up from a short nap in the early evening, the sky beginning to change again, shifting from pale blue to warmer golds and pinks, the sun already thinking about sinking back down.

Harry is sitting beside him, legs stretched out, a book open on his lap but eyes not on the page.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Louis asks, his voice still a little scratchy from sleep, as he’s cuddling himself a little deeper into his hoodie. There’s still some warmth coming from the sun, so he soaks in it.

Harry shrugs, not looking at him just yet. "Just how long it took us to get here. Not just the drive. Like all of it."

Louis shifts onto his elbow, gaze soft. "But we're here now."

Harry nods, turning to meet his eyes finally. "Yeah. We are."

And maybe nothing else needs to be said.

Because the ocean keeps whispering. The sky keeps glowing. And Louis, for the first time in a long time, doesn't feel the need to run from anything, not even the quiet.

Chapter 54: Chapter 51

tw: smut later on in chapter. I'll put another warning when it starts because the rest of the chapter is too good to not be read, sorry.

"Want to go out for dinner tonight?" Harry asks after a while of them bathing in the late afternoon sun rays. They're both lying down on their backs, not touching, but their fingers intertwined.

"Yeah, sounds great." Louis smiles turning his head, loving the way the golden light hits Harry's face.

It accentuates his sharp cheekbones and the way his long lashes fan around his eyes. It gives his dark curls a chocolaty brown deepness.

Harry notices Louis' stare at him so he turns his head towards Louis as well. "What?"

Louis tries to hide his face with their linked hands but fails as Harry tugs their hands down the moment he realizes what Louis wants to do. "You look beautiful."

Harry smiles, his eyes crinkling, "Not more beautiful than you."

"Shut up." Louis rolls his eyes, "I said it first."

"So?" Harry asks.

"That means you can't say it back like a bigger compliment."

"Such a child." Harry groans, "You're just looking amazing. I love the sun-kissed-you."

Louis props himself up on one elbow so he's looking down on Harry. "Sun-kissed doesn't look bad on you either."

His gaze is fixated on the curve of Harry's lips, they curl into a smile when Harry notices.

Louis starts to lean in a little, but hesitates just in front of Harry's face. "Can I?"

Harry frowns a little, "Of course you can."

Louis shrugs, not entirely sure why he hesitated, "Just- Wanted to make sure you're okay with it."

Harry doesn't reply after that, but instead he just grabs the back of Louis' neck and pulls him closer like that. He whispers, "I'm always okay with that." Before he connects their lips together.

Louis sighs softly into the kiss, like it's something he's been waiting to do all day, maybe longer.

Their mouths move slowly, gently, like they're savoring the warmth of the moment just as much as the feel of each other.

Harry's fingers slip from Louis' hand to his jaw, thumb brushing just beneath his cheekbone.

His skin is warm, sun-drenched, and so close it makes Louis feel like he's glowing from the inside out.

They don't rush it. There's no urgency, no need to prove anything. Just the soft press of lips, the lazy slide of noses brushing, breaths mingling, hearts in sync.

When Louis finally pulls back, it's only a few inches. His forehead stays pressed against Harry's, eyes still closed as if to hold on to the feeling a moment longer.

"I like this," Louis whispers, voice low and a little rough. "Us."

Harry smiles again, wide and bright, and Louis can feel it against his lips before he opens his eyes.

"Me too," Harry mumbles. "It feels.. right."

Louis nods, still barely breathing. "Like this is what we're meant to be doing."

"Lying in the sun and kissing?" Harry teases, lifting a brow.

"Exactly that." Louis chuckles softly, and then he leans down to kiss him again, just because he can.

This time, Harry hums into it, hands sliding up into Louis' hair, slightly tugging on it.

The world is quiet except for the occasional rustle of the waves and the steady beat of their hearts.

They don't need to say much more.

They have everything they need right here, in the warmth of the sun, the softness of each other, and the silence between kisses that says everything words can't.

The sun's already dipping halfway below the horizon, as they finally start gathering their stuff and make their way to the cottage again.

It's not far from the part of the beach they were at today, it's almost like a private beach as the veranda at the back of the cottage has stairs that lead directly onto the beach.

"Where do you want to eat?" Louis asks.

"I saw a little seafood place down the road when we drove in," Harry says, brushing sand off his jeans as they reach the cottage steps. "Looked quiet. Cozy."

Louis raises a brow, amused. "Since when are you a seafood guy?"

"I'm not," Harry shrugs with a smile. "But you are."

Louis pretends to scoff, but his grin gives him away. "Alright, fine. I'll allow it. But I'm ordering for you."

Harry gives him a playful nudge with his shoulder. "Only if you promise not to sneak oysters on my plate again."

Louis rolls his eyes thinking back to the time where Louis had ordered oysters for the table, when they had met up with Stella en Luke a while ago, for drinks, and Harry almost threw up after trying one for the first time. Ever since that night Harry doesn't trust seafood anymore.

"No promises," Louis says as he unlocks the door to the cottage. The interior is still bathed in the last remnants of daylight, everything soft and golden, like it's holding onto the magic of their afternoon just a bit longer.

They both head to their room to clean up, the easy comfort between them lingering even in silence.

When Louis comes out, he's changed into a loose white button-down and some navy slacks. His hair's still damp from a quick rinse, and he smells like salt and something clean, like the ocean.

Harry's in a pale green linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he's barefoot, his curls still damp too. He looks at Louis with a smile that could knock the air out of him.

"You're seriously trying to outdo the sunset, huh?" Louis says, voice light but sincere.

Harry chuckles. "You saw yourself earlier, right? You looked like a Renaissance painting."

Louis snorts, grabbing his wallet and phone. "Let's go before you start reciting poetry or something."

They walk into the warm evening, arms brushing occasionally, and by the time they reach the small seafood place, tucked into a weathered building with fairy lights wrapped around its awning, the sky's painted in streaks of pink and indigo.

It's quiet, just like Harry said. A few tables occupied, low music playing, the kind of place where time slows down.

They get a small table near the window, overlooking the beach. The waiter brings menus and a candle flickers between them.

"This feels weirdly romantic," Louis mutters after a bit, eyes scanning the menu but not really reading it.

Harry looks up, expression soft. "Is that a bad thing?"

Louis meets his gaze, and the words falter on his tongue. "No," He finally says, "Not at all."

And maybe that's all they need, two plates, a view of the sea, and the shared understanding that something's changing between them.

Something steady and warm, like the tide returning to shore.

The waiter appears again with a notepad, "What can we get started for you gentlemen?"

Louis smiles up at the guy, "For me a white, dry, wine and I'll have the lemon sea bass with roasted veggies please and for him a butter shrimp pasta. Thank you."

"For me a white wine as well." Harry adds.

The waiter nods and assures it won't be long. The waiter then disappears, and a hush settles over the table, punctuated only by the soft clink of cutlery and the low hum of the other people.

Outside, the waves continue their slow rhythm, brushing against the sand like a lullaby.

Louis leans back in his chair, watching Harry across the flickering candlelight. "You know, I wasn't sure about this trip," He says quietly.

Harry's brows lift a little. "No?"

Louis shakes his head. "Wasn't sure if we'd feel weird. If it'd be too much."

Harry nods, understanding. "It could have been."

"But it's not," Louis adds, quickly. "It's not weird. It's actually really easy."

Harry's mouth quirks into that soft, crooked smile that always undoes Louis just a little. "That's how I know it's real."

Louis doesn't reply to that, but his foot nudges against Harry's under the table. Not hard, not playful, just there. Present.

Their drinks arrive first, cool and crisp. They clink glasses lightly, the sound almost lost in the hush around them.

"To easy," Harry says.

"To real," Louis replies.

They sip in silence until the food comes, steaming and fragrant, and they both dig in without much ceremony. Harry makes a pleased noise at the first bite.

"Good?" Louis asks, already smirking.

Harry nods enthusiastically, mouth full. "Okay, maybe I am a seafood guy. But only your version."

Louis rolls his eyes, but there's pride in it. "You say that now. Wait until dessert. They had a lemon tart on the menu."

"Oh, dangerous," Harry mumbles. "You and lemon. I should've known."

They fall into an easy rhythm, trading bites, stealing sips, teasing gently between mouthfuls.

At one point, Harry drops his napkin and Louis reaches to pick it up for him, and their hands brush in that quiet way that feels intentional now. Nothing loud or dramatic. Just familiar. Comfortable.

When the plates are cleared and the lemon tart is served—one spoon, naturally—they take turns, savoring the tangy sweetness, laughing when Harry almost drops a bit of it onto the tablecloth.

Outside, the sky is now dark, moonlight glittering over the water. A couple has started slow dancing to the faint music near the door, and Harry watches them for a moment, something wistful in his eyes.

Louis follows his gaze. "You want to dance?"

Harry looks back at him. "Would you?"

Louis shrugs, a soft grin on his face. "I'd do anything if you asked nicely."

Harry doesn't say anything at first. Just stands and extends a hand across the table.

Louis laughs under his breath but takes it, letting Harry pull him gently up. The space between tables is small, but enough. They move slowly, swaying in place more than dancing, arms around each other, heads tilted close.

"I've never done this before," Harry whispers near Louis' ear.

Louis raises a brow. "What, dance with a guy?"

Harry shakes his head. "Dance like this. And not care who's watching."

Louis pulls back just enough to look at him, blue eyes serious now. "No one's watching."

Harry smiles. "Even if they were."

They stay like that for another few minutes, moving gently, holding each other like something delicate but sure.

Until the music fades, until the spell quiets, and they slip out into the night again, hand in hand.

The walk back to the cottage is quieter, but not heavy.

By the time they reach the veranda steps, Louis stops walking, tugging Harry back before he can go inside.

"Thank you," He says, voice hoarse.

Harry tilts his head. "For what?"

"For this. For making it feel like- like it's okay to just be."

Harry cups his cheek, brushing his thumb across the skin there. "It is okay. More than okay."

Louis leans in, presses a soft kiss to Harry's lips, then rests their foreheads together once more. The waves continue their endless roll in the background.

When they finally go inside, the cottage greets them with warmth and soft shadows. They don't talk much as they get ready for bed, but they keep close.

Louis clicks on their bed side lamps, a soft yellow illuminating the cozy bed room. As they slip under the sheets, Harry mumbles, "You still taste like lemon."

Louis grins into the pillow. "You like that?"

Harry leans in, lips brushing Louis' jaw. "Love it."

"You can taste it once more then."

"Just once?" Harry sounds disappointed as he props himself up on his elbow.

"Maybe twice." Louis' teeth sink into his bottom lip as he turns his head towards Harry.

Oh how he's missed this.

"I'll take that." Harry immediately crashes his lips on Louis', grabbing his jaw.

Louis gasps into the kiss as soon as Harry puts his cold hand onto his waist, tugging him closer.

Their bodies move in sync, hands all over each other, lips passionately exploring the other.

Harry is still bending down over Louis, leaning onto one arm now.

When they break the kiss for a moment to catch their breath Harry pulls back a little, "Are you okay? Do you want to continue?"

Louis nods, eagerly. He realizes now, that he's been ready for this all along.

"Need your words, Lou."

"I am more than okay. And fuck yes I want to continue because I need you." Louis exhales, noticing Harry's eyes darken at that.

-

tw: smut from now on

-

Harry is on top of him within a blink of an eye. Straddling him with his thighs on each side of Louis' body.

He bends down again connecting their lips, he moves them against Louis hungrily. Like he hasn't eaten in years.

Harry rolls his hips into Louis' desperately. The thin fabric of his boxers not hiding anything as he's rolling his hard on against Louis' definitely hard on as well. The man beneath him grabs his thighs firmly to still him.

"Fuck Harry." Louis groans into his mouth, traveling his hands to cup Harry's ass through his boxers.

Harry breaks the kiss to trail multiple licks and kisses down Louis bare chest and abdomen until he's reached the waistband of his boxers.

"Can I?" Harry asks, looking up at Louis with the most porno begging eyes he's ever seen.

"Can you what?"

"Can I please you?" The question rolls off Harry's tongue like smooth butter. The innocent undertone lacing his voice is more than Louis can take right now.

"Fuck." Louis curses as he motions for Harry to take off his boxers. "Yes, yes you can. Need your pretty lips wrapped around my dick."

And Harry gladly obeys, pulling down Louis' boxers in a desperate motion making his hard member spring free.

He spreads Louis' legs and slides in between them, sitting down on his knees. He immediately grabs Louis' straining, hard cock and lets his fingers run up and down the shaft in a slow, teasing manner while maintaining eye contact with Louis. A vein bulges out of the strained erection, throbbing beneath Harry's fingers.

"Harry." Louis warns.

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asks, voice innocent but eyes dark, full of lust.

"Get your mouth on my dick, right fucking now." Louis groans, then guides Harry's head to his cock.

Harry slowly puts his mouth around the tip of Louis' cock, licking up the precum, sending chills and shivers up Louis' body.

He starts licking up and down with short flicks of his tongue, while letting his thumb run over the slit in the tip.

Louis grasps a handful of Harry's curls to steady himself, it feels amazing for a bit but he needs more and more quickly. "Harry." He moans as he arches his back into Harry's touch, aiming for his dick to deepen down his throat.

"Fuuck H." Louis groans as he finally gives up and pushes Harry's head down onto his dick in a swift motion, he feels his throat contract against his tip, sending Louis' almost over the edge already.

Harry digs his fingers painfully deep into Louis' thighs from the shock at first and then steadily holds them there.

Needing to take over control himself, Louis' fingers curl tightly into Harry's hair and he pushes him down again on his dick and repeats that motion again and again.

He feels Harry groan and gasp for breath against his shaft, gagging on it over and over but he needs more. "Fuck, you feel so good."

He continues to push Harry's head up and down on his cock, until Harry's continously gagging and his saliva is dripping down his neck and down Louis' body. Looking like a fucking hot mess working on his cock.

Louis promptly pulls Harry's head backwards for him to be able to breathe. Harry immediately gasps loudly for air.

"You're doing so fucking well babe." Louis smirks, as Harry immediately wants to get Louis' dick in his mouth again after. He doesn't say anything, probably can't either, but just moans at the praise as Louis pushes his head down again.

"Fuck, fuck me, you're so good." Louis pants as he's almost there, chest rising and falling at top speed. "I'm- So close."

He suddenly doesn't have the energy in him to guide Harry's head anymore as he knows he is nearing his high real soon. His fingers slip out of Harry's hair and his arms fall down next to him on the bed, completely taken over by the intense pleasure that Harry's creating for him.

Harry can't keep his eyes off of Louis, seeing him melt into that sublime space of being pleasured beyond physics. Sweat is beading on his bare chest, making it shine in the yellow dim light. Louis' face is flushed as his eyes are clamped shut, moans trailing out of his mouth.

That sight only makes Harry enjoy this more.

Louis feels Harry's mouth come up his shaft again, pulling off of it with a pop. Just for a second, heavily gasping. Louis is too out of it to react, he just knows he needs to come. And quick.

"Come for me." Harry breathes as he deep throats Louis' cock once more, sending him totally over the edge.

Louis is seeing stars, moons, suns and maybe the entire Milky Way in his head once he finally reaches his high. His whole body shudders from the intense orgasm. A string of curses roll off his tongue as Harry sucks the cum from his cock, he keeps sucking on it as Louis rides out his high.

"Harry." Louis moans, trying to tug Harry's head off of his already softer dick but Harry keeps his mouth working.

It's painful at first, as Louis is feeling very overstimulated by his intense orgasm and Harry never backing down and continuously sucking him off. He's also running a lubed up finger over Louis' hole, teasing it every now and then.

But soon, between the pain of overstimulation, there's waves of pleasure rolling through again.

"It's too much." Louis can barely get the words out, arching his back into Harry again. His cock throbbing and rock hard.

"You will do it for me." Harry breathes as his mouth is off of Louis cock for a second,

And that, Louis will.

Because the waves of pleasure intensify soon enough, the overstimulation quickly becoming pleasure too.

Harry suddenly roughly pushes a digit into Louis hole, earning a loud wail from Louis.

"Oh my god." Louis whines loudly, desperately pushing his ass back onto Harry's finger, trying to get some relief.

Harry steadily works his finger in and out of Louis' hole, while he's still sucking and licking and lightly scraping his teeth over Louis' throbbing cock.

Harry retreats his finger from Louis' hole for a moment, lubing up another finger and without any warning he pushes them both up into Louis' hole again.

"Fuuuuck." Louis yells out, intense pleasure working his body and mind as Harry's fingers graze his g-spot.

Harry removes his mouth from Louis' cock and wraps his fingers around it instantly, working up and down.

The way Harry is still stimulating both his ass and cock is quickly becoming too much for the still so sensitive Louis.

With an insane arch of his back, his back comes off the mattress, he wails out his second orgasm. His whole body spasms against Harry's touch, his cum shooting over Harry's hand and Louis' own stomach and with every shudder of his body Harry's fingers press into his g-spot again, making it impossible to get off his high. It's so good but so painful and so amazing but so overstimulating at the same time.

Tears stream down his face as he can only whine out Harry's name. It's the only thing on his mind, pleasure pleasure pleasure Harry Harry Harry.

He's competely out of it as Harry finally removes his fingers from Louis' throbbing hole, now clenching around nothing.

He feels Harry clean him up with warm towels but barely registers it. He feels Harry slide into bed next to him, pulling Louis against his chest tightly.

"No one else, and I mean no fucking one else, will ever fucking make you feel like this, you understand?" Harry whispers against Louis' hair, letting his finger lightly trail over Louis' super sensitive member, the touch earning an involuntary shudder of his body.

And Louis is too far gone, too far drifted off into that pleasure space, to be reacting to that.

The only thing he knows is that it's true.

And he knows who Harry meant with no one else.

Chapter 55: Chapter 52

tw: smut and mentions of smut throughout chapter. will give another warning when the actual part starts for those who prefer to skip.

Early morning light creeps into the room as Louis opens his eyes, a slightly chilled breeze hits his face. The soft rush of the waves rolling onto the beach sounds in the background, rain ticks slightly on the roof, creating a somewhat eerie atmosphere. Louis ducks a little lower beneath the covers, seeking warmth.

His head is immediately spinning once he recalls the events of the night before.

The way Harry had taken over control like that? The way he had pleasured him like that?

Fuck, Louis had loved it. Could barely remember it though, as it had been that good. But still.

He rolls over and finds the object of his thoughts just lying there, face squished into his pillow. The blue-ish morning light accentuating his high cheekbones and plump lips.

He's still sleeping like a baby, the expression on his face so innocent. Like there's no way that this guy and the Harry of yesterday night are the same.

Louis stares at him for a while, just admiring the fact that his boyfriend is next to him, in bed, looking like a model.

After a bit he silently slips out of bed, his bare feet being met with the cold wooden floor.

He makes his way to the kitchen and starts preparing some eggs for Harry. And for himself, because the events they ended yesterday night with, sure took some energy from him.

God, Louis smiles to himself, standing right there in the kitchen looking out of the window at the gloomy beach. It feels almost as if he's fallen in love with Harry all over again since yesterday.

Everything had been so good, so calm. The beach, the dinner and then the intimacy later on.

Sadly today won’t get to be a beach day but he’s sure they’ll enjoy today.

It feels as if the doubts are left at home. Which makes Louis wary, like he doesn't quite trust all of this yet.

As his hands are working on the breakfast, his mind is already working on how he would love to repay Harry.

Maybe in the shower? Maybe in the bed now? Maybe bending him over by the desk he saw in the other guest room..

He's shaken from his thoughts by the floor board creaking in the hallway and a moment later Harry is walking up from behind him. He sneaks his arm around Louis abdomen and kisses his neck.

"Morning." He hums with his lips still against Louis' neck.

Louis melts into his touch, a shiver running down his spine. "Morning."

"How are you feeling?" Harry asks, voice sounding as innocent as ever.

Louis turns around in Harry's arms, so his back is leaning against the counter. He lets his eyes roam over Harry's face for a bit, drinking in every part of it, until they still on Harry's eyes.

His hands have forgotten the breakfast he was making as he's grabbed tightly onto Harry's waist. As if to steady himself.

"Good." Louis mumbles, unable to look away from the intense gaze of Harry.

"Just good?" Harry raises a brow, grabbing Louis chin as if to get a better look at his face. "You seemed to tell me—or should I say moan?— something else yesterday."

Louis rolls his eyes, leaning into Harry's hold on his face. "Sure did."

Harry smirks, "Yeah you did."

"Oh yeah?"

"Definitely."

Louis shrugs, "Alright then."

Harry drops his hand, gaze still locked on Louis'.

Louis lets his eyes roam Harry's face for a moment until he finally rests them on his lips. The perfectly curved, full lips he really wants to kiss right now.

"Harry."

"Yeah?" Harry lifts a brow, seemingly completely entranced by the way Louis says his name.

"I'm so in love with you."

Harry smiles, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Because through anything, Harry feels Louis loves him. "Yeah, I know."

Louis swats his chest, feeling a bit overwhelmed by his own confession, as if it wasn't clear to Harry but still. "Fuck you."

"You might be doing that later yeah."

Louis turns around rolling his eyes, to stir in the pan again, and maybe to hide the red creeping up his neck. "I'll have you bent over by the desk in the guest room, if you don't shut up soon."

Harry feels a twitch in his boxers as he lets his fingers loosely trail over Louis' sides, the touch making Louis' mind go wild places again. "Not sure if that's gonna shut me up."

"Let's eat first." Louis says, on the outside not bothered but inside he's going crazy. The thought of having Harry bent over that desk? Good lord.

For a moment they eat in silence, Harry hums in enjoyment as he bites into the toast with egg.

Harry seems very calm and peaceful, sitting like this at the kitchen table.

On the opposite side of the table, Louis feels a bit restless all of the sudden.

His leg bounces up and down as he cuts into his breakfast. Every time their eyes meet Louis flicks them away in an instant, but a moment later his eyes rest on Harry's again.

He's not sure why he's feeling like this but he feels uneasy. Like his mind is playing games with him or something. Because them being so okay can't be real, right?

What about everything they left at home? They need to talk.

"Lou?" Harry asks, making Louis snap is eyes in his direction. He's met with a worried looking Harry, brow raised and eyes full of confusion. "You okay?"

Louis blows out a breath, widening his eyes a little, "Yeah, yes. Yes, I am. Why?"

Harry just looks at him with a blank face, "You haven't eaten shit and you're sitting there like you want to vanish into thin air."

Oh.

"I'm sorry." Louis says and he pushes half his toast into his mouth as he looks down at the table again.

Harry frowns, "For what? Louis."

Louis looks up, trying to chew down the absurd amount of toast in his mouth.

"Lou." Harry says again, now sounding stern, "Talk to me, what's going on?"

He childishly points at his cheek, puffed up like a squirrel, and continues chewing. Finally he's able to swallow it together with half a glass of water.

"I don't know." Louis says finally, "I enjoyed yesterday so much and you know, yesterday night as well."

"Yeah?" Harry motions for him to continue as Louis pauses.

"And I woke up in a good mood and all of the sudden- I don't really know what's going on. Like there's something bad bound to happen."

He notices Harry thinks about his words for a little, that he lets them replay in his mind before carefully choosing his reply.

Harry then stands up, walks around the table, and without a word, pulls Louis to his feet. Their bodies are close again, Louis' chair scraping softly against the floor as it's pushed back.

"Look at me," Harry says, his tone leaving no room for Louis to talk back.

So of course, Louis looks at Harry.

There's a long moment where nothing is said, and then Harry leans in and kisses him. It's not frantic or heated, just slow, deep, meaningful. Louis sinks into it, lets himself forget everything else for a second.

When they break apart, Harry rests their foreheads together. "You're going to be okay. Trust me."

And honestly? Thats the hardest part for Louis.

"I wish I could trust you on that. My mind just continues to talk me into that feeling of impending doom." Louis says, closing his eyes.

"I know what you mean, but it's not real Lou. It's in your head. We're here, in this moment. We're okay." Harry whispers. "You just have to trust me on that."

Louis swallows, lips tingling, voice low. "I'm trying."

He's grateful Harry understands.

"I know you are."

They stay like that for a while, bodies pressed close, the soft hum of the fridge filling the space between them. Toast forgotten on the table.

Louis could stay like this forever.

But then Harry's hand slides lower, resting on the small of Louis' back, and he grins.

The air shifting slightly between them. Some form of tension is created in the way they hold on to each other now.

"That desk's still waiting to be used, you know."

Louis pulls back with a sharp laugh, playfully swatting his chest. "Harry."

"What?" Harry grins, all faux innocence. "You said it first."

Louis narrows his eyes. "I was being vulnerable just now, you fucking dick."

Harry holds up his hands. "Hey, I'm just saying. What is a better way to remind you how good we are together?"

Louis shakes his head, biting back a smile. "You're impossible. I hate you."

"You love me."

"I do," Louis admits quietly, all teasing gone from his tone. "I really fucking do."

Harry leans in, lips brushing against Louis' again. "Then I want you to show me how much."

And fuck, Louis feels his boxers get real tight again.

Louis kisses Harry back with so much intensity they're out of breath within seconds, they break apart for a moment and Louis looks up at Harry, his pupils blown and lips already tinging red. "I give you five minutes to prepare, before I'm taking you on that desk."

-

tw: smut warning

-

Harry's eyes widen as he takes in Louis' words. "Five?" He repeats but he knows very well what Louis said.

"Five." Louis nods, crossing his arms as he sits back down at the table. "You know what to do."

And that Harry does.

He walks, better said, he runs, towards their bedroom.

He rushes through his baggage to find the stuff he's looking for. And he finally finds it, right at the bottom, the bottle of lube he threw in before the trip because he had already hoped it would be  them reconnecting. In the best sense of the word.

He shimmies half way out of his boxers before making his way towards the guest room in a hurried, desperate manner.

As he gets to the desk he wastes no time before clearing the papers lying on it, then bending over it and grabbing the lube. He squirts a good amount onto his fingers and covers them richly with it.

With one hand he grabs the side of the desk to steady himself as he lets out a loud sigh as he runs his cold lubed up finger over his hole.

"Lou." He softly whines into the nook of his elbow, as he imagines that it's Louis' finger touching him and not his own.

After a moment he pushes his first finger in, his dick already straining against the cold wood of the desk. He lets out a groan as he moves his finger in and out of his hole, curling around the edge, trying to stretch himself open for Louis.

He can't wait for him. The five minutes that sounded so short just now, might now be too long. Harry wants Louis to touch him, feel him, be in him.

Meanwhile Louis is still sitting at the kitchen table, he's just finished his toast and is occupying himself with the morning paper the property owner had apparently brought by this morning.

Although, Louis doesn't recall much from what he's read already, as he's way too focused on the sounds coming from the hallway.

Harry whines and groans as he hurries himself through the stretching. He wants to be completely ready and open for Louis but he feels like he's running out of time.

He curses under his breath as he pushes another finger in, not entirely ready yet but he groans himself through the feeling of discomfort.

He moves the two digits in and out, opening and closing them like scissors as he's moving them up. He muffles his moans into his arm, "Lou." Is all he manages to bring out as he feels himself getting stretched more and more.

A few moments later Harry's taken out of his daze by footsteps sounding in the hallway.

It's Louis, of course it's Louis.

He finally enters the room and slowly makes his way towards Harry, like a predator stalking its prey.

And finding him bended over the desk is making Louis feel things.

Harry is fingering his hole rapidly, his bare ass up in the air with his boxers pooling just around his ankles. Probably so needy he didn't bother to step out of them yet.

His moans make way towards Louis throughout the hallway.

Such a slutty, sinful sight, it's making Louis weak in his knees

Louis walks closer, doesn't say anything yet but lets his flat hands trail over both Harry's ass cheek, kneading the skin softly.

He hears Harry gasp at the touch. Sees Harry still work on his hole. For Louis.

Louis now stands behind him, circling both his hands over Harry's ass cheeks still.

He stills his movement for a little, rests his hands there before lifting one, hovering it in the air a little before slapping it down on one cheek.

Earning a strangled noise from Harry's throat.

"Yeah, you like that?" Louis asks, now harshly landing a slap on the other ass cheek.

"Lou." Harry slowly retreats his hand from his behind, slipping his lubed fingers out of his hole.

"Yeah?" Louis asks, like he doesn't already know.

"Need you." Harry barely makes out the words, so full of anticipation.

And Louis doesn't waste much time before dropping his boxers to his feet and stepping out of them. His hard cock springing free

He grabs the lube and squirts some onto his hand. He then lubes up two fingers and without warning he shoves both of them into Harry's hole. Harry groans and tries to sharply inhale from the shock at the same time, creating a grunt from somewhere deep within his throat.

"So fucking ready for me, aren't you?" Louis pushes his fingers in and out of his hole in a steady rhythm, curling them around the rim. His other hand runs over Harry's bare back and he leans down to kiss Harry's shoulder. "You're doing so well."

"Fuck. Lou." Harry steadies himself by grasping onto the edge of the desk with both hands and after a while he tries to start pushing his ass back onto Louis' fingers. Clearly wanting more.

And then Louis' fingers are gone out of his hole. Leaving him feeling empty.

But the empty feeling is quickly replaced by the tip of Louis' cock lining up with his hole. Harry softly whines in expectation.

But Louis doesn't push in immediately, he takes in the feeling of Harry's hole against his tip. He's admiring the ripple of muscles in Harry's back beneath his fingers as he runs them over his skin. He's taking a moment to appreciate what's all his.

"Louis." Harry breathes out, "Please."

"Please, what?" Louis asks, although of course he knows what he wants. "Need your words." He uses the same phrase Harry did yesterday, just to get back at him for taking over control.

Because let's be real, Louis loved it, but he needs to feel in control again now.

"Fuck me." Harry whines, such desperation dripping from his voice. "Need you."

He isn't even finished with speaking before Louis pushes his cock into Harry's hole.

Harry lets out an obscene moan as he feels Louis' dick stretch him out completely. "Fuuck."

He slowly pushes into him until he's feeling Harry's ass on his stomach meaning he's completely inside of him. His fingers dig into Harry's sides just above his hipbone, to stabilize them both.

Louis stays unmoving inside of Harry for a moment, what feels like an eternity for Harry as he's already trying to move his ass forward and backwards for more.

"Lou." Harry begs, trying again to move on Louis' cock but the death grip Louis has on him preventing such things.

"Fuck me, please?" Harry begs again, letting the words roll off his tongue. He lets go of the desk with one hand to try and touch his own cock but Louis immediately pulls out, grabs Harry's hand to pin it onto his waist and rams into him, hitting his spot perfectly, earning a shocked, loud moan from Harry.

"Yeah, you fucking like that?" Louis groans as he thrusts into Harry over and over again. Enjoying the sight of him falling apart completely.

Harry's trying to hold on steady to the desk to receive Louis' cock as well as possible but fails greatly at that. He's seeing stars every time Louis thrusts into him and hitting his g spot every damn time as well. So he's lying down on the desk helplessly, just taking Louis' cock.

His own member is pressed between his legs and the desk, so every time Louis thrusts into him his dick is squeezed as well. It's so painfully good, it's only increasing the amount of pleasure Harry is already feeling.

"Take it like the good boy you are for me." Louis breathes out into Harry's ear.

All Louis receives from Harry is moan after moan. He didn't know his own name could sound so hot being moaned. It's only "Lou." "Louis." "Fuck, Lou" "So good Lou." for the time being.

And Louis can't say he's complaining about it.

A string of curses leave his mouth as he feels Harry clenching around his cock, indicating he's getting close. "Fuck Harry."

"Shiit you're so fucking good." Harry chokes out as Louis pumps his cock into him like he's in a rush. Like he has something to catch up to.

"Damn right I am." Louis smirks, letting his fingers sink into the soft skin on Harry's shoulder to hold him steady as he keeps thrusting into him.

It feels so fucking good, the feeling building in his stomach let him know he is close. But he wants Harry to come first. Needs Harry to come first.

So he keeps on thrusting into Harry. Burying his cock deep inside of him and hitting the spot faster and faster.

Harry isn't able to say anything anymore so the only sounds coming from him are guttural groans and obscenely loud moans. He's lying onto the desk with his face pressed against it sideways, eyes closed shut from the immense pleasure.

"Louder for me baby." Louis cheers him on, picking up the speed even more.

"Harder." Harry moans loudly, completely being destroyed and feeling split open by Louis' thick cock already but he wants, needs more.

But Louis gladly obeys, thrusting into him at god speed, with his hands on Harry's waist pushing him deeper and deeper onto his cock.

"Fuuck." He groans as he feels his climax building, but he still needs Harry to come first. So he moans his name like it's a sign. "Harry."

Harry doesn't reply, but Louis knows he's got it.

"Come for me." Louis demands while still thrusting into him, so fucking good and so fucking deep Harry's not sure if he's already came or not and that this is the aftermath of his high.

Louis then gives him such a deep fucking thrust into his g spot that Harry's suddenly coming all over his legs and the floor, seeing stars everywhere, but Louis continues thrusting into him like a maniac.

Harry's lying helplessly beneath him, taking his cock like he's a fuck doll. His hole is pulsing around Louis' cock and he feels like he's overstimulated already from the pleasure.

"Fuck." Louis curses, his thrusts becoming shorter and sloppier as he's chasing his own high. It doesn't take long though, Harry completely coming undone together with the pulsing of Harry's hole around him is quickly becoming too much.

So before he knows it he's shooting his load into Harry, letting out a wildly loud groan. He thrusts into Harry a few more times, riding out his high, feeling the warm liquid being spread around inside and coming out the hole around his dick.

"My- Fuck." Louis pants as he finally bends over and collapses his upper body down on Harry, with his cock still buried in Harry. Sandwiching Harry between the desk and Louis.

"Felt so good." Harry sighs blissfully, not even sure what's going on around him as Louis just fucked him into oblivion.

"Fuck. I have no words." Louis curses out, trying to catch up with his breath.

They lay there for a few minutes, hot, sweaty, bodies covered in cum, pressed together.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Louis retreats himself from Harry, sliding his dick out of his hole. He looks down in awe at the pulsing hole, his own cum leaking everywhere. He trails his finger over Harry's hole teasingly and laughs at the jerk at that from Harry's overstimulated body.

He slips his arm around Harry's stomach and guides him to stand up. And as Harry, after a while, is finally able to stand up, he turns him around and presses a kiss onto Harry's lips.

Harry's still catching his breath, slumped against Louis like all the bones have gone out of him.

The room is dim, grey morning light slanting through the windows, soft and heavy with mist. The sea murmurs in the distance, muffled by the drizzle tapping against the glass.

Everything feels hushed, like the world's gone slow just for them. The rush they just had, to come, replaced by a certain slowness.

"Fuck," Harry mumbles, forehead pressed to Louis's shoulder, "You broke me."

Louis huffs a laugh, one arm wrapped tight around his waist to keep him upright. "You asked for it."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

"Mhm, you did, but c'mon, I'll carry you to the shower," Louis says, voice low and teasing as he breathes into Harry's hair. "Rescue you from your own dramatics."

Harry doesn't answer, just lets out a content hum and leans all his weight into Louis like he'd be happy to melt into the floor right there.

Louis kisses the side of his head and nudges him gently "C'mon, you're sticky and it's cold. Let's not die in this room."

The walk to the bathroom is slow and giggly, Harry's limbs wobbly and his grin lazy. Louis supports most of his weight, guiding them through the cottage with one arm steady around his back. The sound of rain picks up a bit, tapping harder against the roof.

In the shower, Harry leans into the spray, eyes closed, a little pink in the cheeks, the tips of his curls curling tighter with the damp. Louis washes him gently with soft touches, warm water, nothing is rushed. Every now and then, Harry opens his eyes just to look at him like Louis hung the rainclouds himself.

When they're clean and dry and wrapped in mismatched towels, Louis grabs Harry's favorite hoodie—soft and oversized and fraying at the cuffs—and pulls it over his head for him. Harry sighs like it's the first real breath he's taken all day.

"Bed?" Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head, eyes flicking to the window, where the beach outside is shrouded in mist and grey. "Couch. Let's watch something stupid and nap in the middle of it."

Louis smiles, tugging him toward the little living room. The couch is old and too small for two people to stretch out on properly, but they make it work, Louis sitting first, Harry draped across him like a weighted blanket, legs tangled, fingers tucked into Louis's hoodie pocket.

The room smells like rain and sea salt and laundry detergent. The TV murmurs in the background, some animated movie Harry picked at random, but neither of them is really watching.

Louis runs his fingers through Harry's curls, slow and steady, and Harry hums now and then, drifting between sleep and being awake. Feeling safe and warm and completely out of it.

Outside, the waves keep rolling.

Inside, it's just them. Them, against the world outside.

Chapter 56: Chapter 53

The day passes slowly and yet somehow too fast. They're wrapped up together, inside, warm and dry.

It had been drizzling the whole day but eventually the wind had picked up and now a slight storm is going on outside.

Louis lies down with his head in Harry's lap, and Harry runs his fingers through Louis' hair as they're watching a random movie together.

Well, honestly 'watching' would be a little too big of a word, as they're constantly talking through it, telling each other a lot of things and asking each other random stuff about life.

Louis feels at peace, this morning's intimate activities had marked the truth in their relationship for him. The trust and mutual respect they've gained over the past few months.

His worries will maybe always be there, but he knows now that they're based on things his mind makes up, not reality. Not entirely.

They're just talking about Harry's favorite color being pink as Louis' phone rings.

He extends his arm but his fingertips barely graze his phone. He lifts himself up a little and with Harry holding onto one arm of him, he's finally able to reach it.

It's Luke.

Louis frowns as he lies his head back in Harry's lap, Luke never calls randomly. Especially because he knows Harry and him are on their little trip together.

His phone keeps ringing in his hand as Louis just stares at the screen.

The caller's name shines bright beneath the time.

It's 4.26pm.

"Who is it?" Harry asks, confused as to why Louis doesn't pick up.

"Luke." Louis mumbles as he hovers his finger over the green button for a second before finally sliding it over the screen.

"Hey." Louis says, voice soft, maybe even tired.

He's immediately met with a very guilty sounding Luke, "Lou. It's Luke."

"I know." Louis nods, "What's going on?"

There's a pause on the other side of the line, so long Louis checks the screen to see if he's still connected.

"How-" Luke's voice breaks, "I'm sorry for- You're probably having fun with Harry and here I am interrupting it."

"Luke. Just tell me what's going on." Louis says, not harsh, but direct.

He feels Harry's eyes on him, knows he wants to hear what's going on, but he avoids his gaze for a little.

"It's Calum. He-" Luke hiccups a sob, his voice small. "He's-"

Louis furrows his brows, looking up at Harry and motioning for him to listen in on the call. "He's what Luke? What's up with Calum?"

Harry sits up straight at that, grabbing his phone as if to look for any missed calls or messages but there's none.

"I- We got into a fight again and he's gone." Luke finally is able to bring out, "And I'm scared for him. He seemed on edge. Really really on edge."

Alarmed at the last sentence Harry leans forward to the phone. "Hi Luke it's Harry here. What do you mean he seemed on edge?"

Luke's breath catches at the sound of Harry's voice. There's a pause, like he's trying to gather his words and not completely fall apart.

"I don't know," Luke finally whispers. "He was not himself these last few days. He's been shutting down lately, what I told you before. But he's been distancing himself even more. And tonight was different. We got in a fight again. He said things I've never heard him say before, like he couldn't take it anymore. That he needed to get away. And then he left. He just walked out."

Louis and Harry share a look.

"Did he take anything with him?" Louis asks quickly, mind racing a hundred miles a minute, thinking what might be going on with Calum. "His phone? Wallet?"

"Just his phone, I think. But he's not answering. I've called a dozen times already." Luke's voice cracks again. "He didn't even take his jacket, Lou. It's freezing out there."

There's a beat of silence as the wind howls against the windows, the storm outside echoing the sudden storm inside.

Harry grabs the remote and turns the TV off. The soft hum of the movie disappears, leaving only the sound of rain beating down on the roof and Luke's shaky breathing through the speaker.

"Okay," Harry says calmly, but firmly. "What are you thinking of, Luke?"

Louis respects Harry for asking the questions that matter the most right now. Because if Luke thinks he-

Louis' train of thought is cut off by Luke speaking up again.

"I'm-" Luke's voice is shaky, as the rest of the sentence is pushed out of his mouth with force. "I think he might do something to himself."

That sentence so quickly said, but such a dark meaning makes Harry's face paler than it was. He sits up straighter, making Louis rise up from where he was lying down on Harry's lap.

"Fuck." Harry whispers, really to no one in particular.

"I've called around but Zayn hasn't heard from him. I was hoping maybe," Luke pauses, "Maybe he reached out to one of you. Or maybe you'd know where he'd go."

Harry swallows, already running through every possible place Calum might escape to when overwhelmed.

"No," He says. "He hasn't called us. But we'll help you find him."

"I don't want to ruin your trip," Luke says, but there's no weight behind the words anymore, just fear. That much is clear as day.

"Luke," Harry then says gently. "This is more important than anything. We'll figure this out together."

Louis is already pulling on a hoodie, grabbing his shoes. "Send us a list of places he might go. We'll start driving."

"You sure?" Luke's voice is so small it hurts to listen.

"Of course we're sure." Louis says. "We're not letting him go through this alone."

Harry's already gathering the keys and a flashlight as Louis says softly into the phone, "We'll find him, Luke. I promise."

The call ends and for a moment, the room is quiet again. But the warmth from before is gone. replaced by urgency and a deep, painful, gnawing concern.

Harry turns to Louis as they step into their boots by the door. "You think he's really okay?"

He asks as if looking for assurance.

"I don't know," Louis says, jaw tight as he opens the front door in a hurry. "But we're not going to wait around to find out."

Louis quickly starts the car and before the condensation on the windows is fully cleared he reverses out of the drive way.

They don't say anything for a while, it's a heavy silence. Like words will not be enough.

The rain pats down on the windows, the wipers working overtime already. It's starting to darken outside as well, earlier than usual. Just adding to the nerve wracking vibe hanging around.

"Do you think Calum's okay?" Louis finally asks after an hour or so of driving on the dark rainy road, his voice low, like saying it too loud might crack something fragile between them.

Harry sighs. "I don't know. He hasn't answered my texts in days. I thought maybe he just needed space. But now, after what Luke said-"

Louis looks over for a second. There's a crease between Harry's brows he only ever sees when he's really scared.

"You've always looked out for him," Louis says gently.

"I tried," Harry murmurs. "But after what happened with Luke, Calum just started shutting everyone out. I didn't want to push. I thought maybe giving him space was the right thing."

"Maybe it was," Louis offers, checking his mirrors before signaling and taking over a car. "You can't force someone to let you in. He knows you care."

Harry leans back against the seat, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's just- He's had some really really rough patches in his life, he's really not had it easy. Might've almost not made it till here."

Louis swallows, fingers clenching around the steering wheel. "So, you're thinking he might..?"

He hears Harry swallow, "Not sure."

It's a short answer but it gives Louis more insight on how Harry's feeling right now. He must be dead worried about his best friend.

"It'll be alright." Louis chokes out, needing the confirmation himself as much as he knows Harry does too.

Silence settles between them until a notification sound coming from Harry's phone breaks it.

Harry grabs his phone out of his pocket, screen lighting up the inside of the car for a moment in the dim light.

"It's from Luke," He says quickly, unlocking it. "He sent a list of places Calum might be. Says he already checked the flat and the café. No sign of him there."

Louis leans in slightly at the red light they're stopped at. Harry scrolls through the message, reading them out loud.

"The lookout near the Hill two towns over from the city. The bench behind his old school. The pier at the lake where nobody goes. That abandoned skatepark."

"Damn, Calum." Louis mutters under his breath. "Those are all over the place."

"He always did like places where he could disappear," Harry says, tapping in the first location. "Let's start with the lookout. It's only about 3 hours still from here."

Louis nods, getting off the next exit to make their way to the place.

The rain hasn't let up, and the tires splash through puddles on the road. It's getting colder now too, Louis cranks the heat even though neither of them really cares about comfort at this point.

After a few minutes, Harry speaks up again, quieter this time. "You know, when Calum and I were teens, he used to talk about disappearing all the time. Not in a dramatic way. Just like he wanted to float away. Like being alive was too much pressure. Not even sad. Just tired."

Louis doesn't know what to say to that. He just reaches over briefly and rests a hand on Harry's thigh.

Harry glances at him, offers a tired smile. "I just hope he's not in that place again."

"Me neither." Louis says, truthfully. Because he's been there. And he knows it can become too much too quick.

The silence stretches again, only interrupted by the wipers squeaking across the glass.

Louis wants to say a thousand words but knows that none will be good enough to ease the lump of uncertainty in Harry's chest right now.

Finally, after a long silent drive, what took more that the expected 3 hours due to the rain, they reach the lookout point.

It's dark now, and the storm makes everything seem eerie at the abandoned roads. Trees whipping back and forth in the wind, the sky a murky slate-grey. Louis steers the car up the gravel path leading up to the look out.

"I can't see shit." He curses as he drives around a sharp corner avoiding a trash bin at the last second.

"There's his car," Harry almost shoots out of his seat, as a car lights up in the headlights of their car once they've reached the parking lot.

Louis's heart kicks up a notch as he jumps on the brakes once he's shot into a parking space. "Okay. That's something."

They both jump out of the car, rain immediately soaking their hoodies. But they don't care. Why would they care about something so mundane when there's something so heavy on the line.

They reach the car in seconds but it's empty. "He's not in his car." Harry swallows, looking around as if to find a hint where Calum might be with this weather.

"Engine is cold as well." Louis says as he takes his hand off the hood. "He must've been here for a while."

"Calum!" Harry yells out, voice carried off by the wind. Letting his flashlight fly over the bushes, the path, anything.

"Calum, mate, are you here?!" Louis shouts too, walking quickly toward the edge of the hill. His shoes sink into the wet grass, slipping a bit.

There's no reply.

They walk around for a while, Harry frantically calling out for him. Desperation lacing his voice as it gets harder to be loud each call. Less and less expecting a reply.

"I need to find him." Harry yells out in frustration, walking away again, looking around, "I need to."

"I need to." He chokes out again, shoulders sagging as the light of the flashlight dims more and more each second.

Louis catches up with Harry in a few strides, the tension of this task unbearable. He needs them to find Calum. Alive. "C'mon H, we'll do another round together."

The bitter taste of the tension makes Louis' stomach churn.

They need to find him.

But then.

Louis slams his hand into Harry's side, before grabbing his arm tightly. "There." He breathes out as he points towards the edge.

A shape. Sitting low to the ground by the edge of the overlook. Hood up, arms hugging their knees.

Harry then spots it too and takes off running. He slips a few times in the wet grass but gets up again and sprints away.

"Calum!" His voice cracks as he calls out again, the wind almost cutting off his voice.

The figure doesn't move.

But as Harry approaches the figure, Louis sees him kneel down at it. And then, finally, the figure slowly lifts his head, the hood slipping off.

It's Calum.

Fuck.

He looks wrecked.

Eyes red, face pale, lips slightly trembling from the cold. He's most definitely completely soaked from the rain as well.

But he's alive.

Harry drops to the ground next to him, hands on Calum's shoulders. They don't speak at first, they just sit there, forehead to forehead, like that's all that matters.

Louis hangs back for a second, heart hammering in his chest from the adrenaline. He exhales shakily and lets himself look up at the stormy sky.

Looking as if to see if there's a God out there, who he needs to thank for helping them find him.

They found him.

They fucking found him.

Alive.

Chapter 57: Chapter 54

It's far past midnight when they finally take the exit off the highway, making the last turn towards the cottage. It's probably just a few more minutes now.

Louis is driving alone in his car, leading the way for Harry, who's driving Calum's car.

Harry feels at home in Calum's car, glad that his close friend is safe, sleeping curled up, in the passenger seat next to him. Tucked away warmly in a blanket Harry found in the back of Louis' car before they left the parking lot hours ago. Soft music lulled Calum to sleep in an instant, Harry lowly humming along.

In Louis' car on the other hand, it only feels empty without Harry next to him.

A shiver runs down Louis' spine as he tries to relax a bit behind the wheel, but his skin is itchy against the wet fabric of his hoodie and his neck aches. He's still cold but the heat is cranked up way too high already.

They've barely passed a car on the highway all night, it's dead empty out here in the storm.

A hard to place, almost melancholic feeling had settled in Louis' chest hours ago. Tears brim his eyes, as the soft music coming from the cd he'd put on, had continiously played out his exact feelings.

"How am I gonna know
If I'm never alone?
When I live in the numb
And all feeling is gone

I throw it all out the window
All out the window
Like it's all I'll ever be

The halls are closing in
If I knew from the start
Would it change a thing?"

Louis shakily breathes out the lyrics, his heart aching along with his mind.

He didn't quite realize what tonight meant to him, but sitting in this silence, the only thing audible the splatter of the rain on his windscreen and his cd playing at a low volume, made him realize.

He has to tell Harry.

Has to let him know that he understood Calum.

Maybe more than he even knew he did, himself.

Maybe not in the exact same way, but enough to recognize the signs. The retreat behind the eyes, the way the silence gets too loud.

"He didn't want to be found," Louis mutters to himself. "That's the part that scares me."

He'd been putting it off for a while now, but seeing tonights events and hearing the desperation in Luke's voice at the possibility of losing Calum had awoken something hidden deep within Louis.

He knows he should have told Harry earlier. But it's hard to talk about.

Because as soon as the words come out of his mouth, it will feel even more real than it already does when he's only thinking about them.

And Louis isn't the most advanced in talking about his feelings, now is he?

Louis indicates left and slowly turns onto the driveway of the cottage. The gravel crunching beneath the tires.

As he's parked, Harry pulls up beside him in Calums car.

Louis leans his head back against the head rest and breathes out. "Fuck me." He whispers to himself, before gathering the energy to get out of his car.

He wraps his arms around himself, his still wet hoodie not giving any warmth and the cold wind cutting through it.

"Everything okay?" He asks Harry who's stepped out of the car now, making his way over to Calum's side of the car.

"Yeah." Harry answers, not looking at Louis.

There's an undertone in Harry's voice that's making Louis wary. He can't quite put his finger on it, but it's there.

"Need me to help with Cal? Is he alright?"

"Get inside and run a bath." Harry cuts him off before he can finish the question. He still doesn't spare Louis as much as a glance, but is completely occupied with getting a completely wiped out Calum out of the car.

Louis opens his mouth to say something but closes it. Now is not the time, maybe later. Calum is all that matters right now.

So Louis just nods, a bit taken aback by Harry's change in demeanor. "Sure." Before making his way inside, leaving the door cracked open.

He strips himself of his wet sticky hoodie and then gets to work. He makes sure the water is a nicely warm, just hot enough temperature and watches the tub fill up for a while. He adds some of the bath foam that the owner of the cottage had put out there for their guests to use.

Soft bubbles swish around in the water. The constant stream of water creating a hypnotizing motion with the bubbles, having Louis intently follow it for some time.

How is he going to talk to Harry about this when he's already having such a hard time about Calum?

Can he burden his boyfriend with even more weight after tonight? He hates not being able to talk to someone about this right now.

Of course, he could call Stella, but she's probably with Zayn right now. Louis knows she will make time for him, but he doesn't feel like intruding their time.

He's shaken from his thoughts by the front door slamming shut.

"Louis?" He hears Harry call out, as if it's a voice coming through from a different reality.

"Yeah?" Louis replies walking out into the hallway, finding Harry there with an almost gone numb Calum pressed against him.

"Help me." Harry says, it's not a question, rather a demand and Louis doesn't even dare to raise his brow at it. He immediately starts helping Harry to keep Calum upright.

"Bathroom?" Louis asks, unsure.

Harry only nods in reply, whispering soft words to Calum who seems completely out of it.

Louis stomach knots at the sight of how carefully Harry handles Calum. There's such a deep care between the two of them, Louis had noticed that a while ago, but tonight it seems different. Like they're blood rather than just friends.

They carefully make their way towards the bathroom and Harry helps Calum out of his drenched clothes. Louis just stands there, feeling like he is too much right now.

As Harry's only left to peel off Calums also drenched boxers, Louis coughs and excuses himself. Not wanting to intrude any further. It almost feels like it's something sacred.

As he's boiling some water for tea in the kitchen, he's suddenly feeling completely and entirely drained of energy. Like he can't move even if he'd want to.

He hears some rustling coming from the bathroom, Harry's soft voice and an occasional hum from Calum.

Louis looks around the kitchen, waiting for the water to finally boil but it feels like it's taking ages.

"Louis." He hears Harry call out and immediately he's on his feet again, able to move, for him.

"Yeah?" He asks from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Prepare the guest room for Cal," A pause. "Please."

Huh.

Please?

"Sure, because you asked nicely." Louis mumbles, more to himself than to Harry, and makes his way over to the guestroom.

He eyes the desk for a second as he enters the room, but decides to ignore it. It feels like a lifetime ago that they were wrapped up in their own little cocoon.

So much has happened in between then and now and Louis doesn't know how to feel.

He opens the linen closet in the room and finds fresh bedding to put on the bed.

He pulls back the sheets and smooths the fresh bedding out with careful hands. Everything feels a little too quiet now.

He keeps thinking about Calum, how small and lost he looked leaning into Harry. How he didn't say a word.

It's hard to see someone you love look like they've already given up, like they're still here, but some part of them has already stepped out the door.

Louis exhales through his nose, sharp and sudden.

How long had Cal been feeling like that?

And how hadn't they noticed?

But Louis knows the secrets how to hide it..

Louis pulls extra blankets out of every closet he can find. He also places down some hot tea for Calum on his bedside table together with some painkillers, god knows he might need them.

Then he goes over to their own room, as soon as he steps inside he's met with the faint smell of Harry's cologne. Fuck.

He starts rummaging through his own bag and doesn't stop until he finds what he needs.

A pair of fresh boxers and an oversized tee he might've stolen from Harry.

He walks back towards the bathroom and softly knocks on the wooden door. "H?"

"Yeah?"

"I got some clothes for Cal."

Harry opens the door and he's met with a very timid looking Louis, holding out the shirt and boxers an armlength in front of his chest.

Harry sighs as he grabs the clothes, "Thanks Lou. Get ready for bed, I'll be there soon."

Louis nods, spinning around. He doesn't understand why he's feeling all these emotions all of a sudden but seeing Calum like this tonight nearly killed him.

He shuts off the lights in the rest of the house and then carries two steaming hot mugs of tea to their bedroom.

Louis does want a shower, he feels deathly cold, but he's way too tired. A week on the construction site would’ve left him feeling more energized than this.

So he just slips into a random tee of Harry he found on the floor and fresh boxers before cozying up underneath the covers.

The rain hasn't stopped outside, an occasional wind flow slams the rain against the window.

Louis just lies there in the dark, waiting for Harry. He's shuffling his feet beneath the covers in a comforting manner and maybe to gather some warmth. He listens to the faint hum of Harry's voice in the other room. He listens to Calum stumble across the hallway to the guestroom.

He wonders if Calum will be able to sleep. If he's still stuck in that hollow place Louis knows too well.

He wants to check on him, but he knows Harry's better at knowing what to say in moments like this. He always has been.

It all becomes one blur of noises in the end, creating a static in Louis' head.

"Hey." Harry softly says as he finally enters the room, waking Louis from his light slumber.

"Hi." Louis sleepily answers, blinking against the light of the bedside lamp Harry clicked on.

"How's Cal?" Louis whispers, nestling himself deeper between the covers.  The rough cotton bedding scratches his still cold skin just right.

Harry sits down, making the bed dip beside Louis'. He doesn't answer for a while, the time stretching so long that Louis starts doubting himself. Did he really ask the question or was it just in his head?

Then, after what feels like forever, Harry answers. "He's going to be okay."

Louis sighs, "Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?"

Harry doesn't even turn around, just shrugs. "He should be fine."

Louis, now wide awake, sits upright. "Harry?"

He doesn't reply, just stares at the wall, back towards Louis.

"Harry?" Louis repeats, his voice maybe a bit too unsteady for his liking, he feels kind of rejected in a way with Harry's behavior. "Please look at me?"

Finally Harry turns around, one leg now on the bed and the other still on the floor. His face towards Louis but his eyes seem to be focused on something else. "What?"

Louis' eyes frantically search Harry's face. For what, he's not entirely sure.

"Are we not going to talk about it?"

There's an unknown feeling of distance between them and it presses on Louis' chest.

Harry now lets his eyes rest on Louis face, noticing the frown between his eyes, the worry etched in the lines around his lips. "What's there to talk about, Louis?" His voice drags, like he's really tired.

Ouch. What happened to sharing everything? Communicating?

"Maybe about what happened tonight?"

"Lou," Harry shifts his head a little, like he doesn't believe Louis is bringing this up. "It's about Cal, not us."

Ouch again.

Louis sighs, he’s really doing this. "But what if it is about us, me?"

Harry raises a brow, "What do you even mean Lou?"

"What if I understand how Calum is feeling a little bit too well? What if it's hitting too close to home for me?" Louis voice breaks on the last part, making Harry look over but he hides his face by looking away.

Harry freezes. The tension in the room changes, sharpens, like the air has been sucked out of it.

Louis doesn't move either. His words still linger in the air between them, heavier than anything he's said in a long time. They were meant to bridge the space between them, but now they sit like a wall around him.

"I just-" Louis whispers, "I know how he feels, and it's not going to be fine all of a sudden."

Silence falls between them.

Until finally, Harry shifts. Slowly.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" he asks, voice quieter now. Not accusing or angry, he’s just asking.

Louis swallows hard. He’s not so sure himself. "Because I didn't know how. I didn't even know it myself, until I heard Luke panic, until I saw the look in Cal's eyes tonight and realized it."

He cuts himself off, pressing his knuckles to his mouth, blinking quickly. "I realized I've felt that way too, and maybe I still feel it. The numbness. The way everything starts to feel detached. Like you're living in someone else's life and everyone thinks you're fine but inside you're just-"

"Dying," Harry finishes for him, so softly Louis barely hears it.

Louis meets Harry's eyes, and something in his chest caves in. "Yeah," He breathes. "That. The migraines still get so damn bad from time to time, even with my medication, I sometimes really don't see a way anymore. It's so hard living like this H."

Harry finally climbs fully into the bed, curling in next to Louis, facing him. "I-" He starts, before stopping.

A moment of silence falls between them, Louis is sure Harry's looking for the right words, not really knowing what to say.

He understands though, it is a lot to tell someone.

To burden someone with.

"I didn't know," Harry then whispers, reaching a hand out to brush Louis' hair back gently. "I thought-"

"I know what you thought," Louis interrupts, leaning into the touch. "You thought I was okay. And I wanted you to think that. I wanted me to think that. But I realized I'm recognizing so much of myself in Calum, it's scaring me."

"Why didn't you come to me?" Harry's voice is barely above a whisper now, like he's afraid if he says it too loud it'll all break.

"Because I didn't want to ruin the one good thing I had. Even with our ups and downs, I didn't want to drag you even more into the dark with me." Louis closes his eyes. "But tonight it scared me so bad. Seeing Cal like that. It made me think about what could've happened if Luke hadn't called us and we didn't find him.”

He breathes out, “And what could happen if I keep pretending I'm fine when I'm not."

Harry slides his hand down to cup Louis' jaw, coaxing him to open his eyes. "Louis, you're never dragging me down. Just like we were both there for Cal, will still be there for him tomorrow. Don't you get it? We're supposed to do this together."

"I know," Louis says, voice cracking. "But sometimes it's hard to believe that I deserve that. That I deserve you."

Harry's face falls. "Don't say that."

"It's just how I feel sometimes. And I hate it, because I love you so much, and I don't want you to have to carry me."

Louis really does, love Harry he means.

"Then let me decide what I want to carry, alright?" Harry says, firm but gentle. "Because I want to carry you, not only the good, romantic and sexual parts. I want to help you, mentally. You've done it for me, time and time again. And you can't decide for me if I get to help you or not, it's my choice to do so, Lou."

Louis lets out a shaky breath and folds into Harry's arms. Harry holds him tightly, pulling him as close as physically possible, like he's trying to fuse their bodies together.

They stay like that for a long time. Just breathing. Feeling each other close.

Until Harry whispers into his hair, "We'll get through this. You and me. Okay?"

Louis nods into his chest. "Okay."

And in the moment, he lets himself believe.

"Now let's sleep, for a long while. Both we and Cal need it." Harry says, "We'll talk to him tomorrow."

Louis nods, "Yeah. I want to let him know we understand and that we're both here for him."

Chapter 58: Chapter 55

"Morning." Louis yawns into his hand as he enters the kitchen the next morning, walking over to the counter to prepare some tea.

Calum looks up from his plate where he'd been pushing the toast around for at least the past 30 minutes or so. "It's 1.30pm."

"Right." Louis nods, pretending to take off an imaginary hat for Calum, "Afternoon then, sir."

Calum tiredly smiles, "Afternoon."

"Harry not in yet?"

"Nah, haven't seen him." Calum shrugs, peeling the crust off his toast and plucking it to small pieces.

"How'd you sleep?" Louis then asks, as he shoves two slices of bread in the toaster.

"Oh, you know, not that great." Calum hides a yawn, the dark circles around his eyes an indication he'd indeed slept troubled.

"Yeah, I know." Louis softly says, "Sucks not being able to sleep, doesn't it?"

He himself had been awake for the whole night and only finally fell asleep around 7.30am when Harry said he'd go for a walk. He doesn't understand how Harry had the energy for that but he does understand it might help him clear his head a little.

"Fucking hate it." Calum mumbles, "Slept for a whole 5 minutes."

Louis leans against the counter waiting for his toast to be done, "Same."

"Why?"

The bread shoots out of the toaster so Louis can turn around without being offensive. He hates speaking about his feelings when facing someone. "I just-" He pauses for a second as he smears some butter on his hot toast, the knife crunching over the bread. "I just understand a little too well how you might feel, and it kept me up too long, thinking."

It stays silent between them until the click of the kettle sounds, indicating the hot water is ready to be used as well.

Louis doesn't turn around yet, though he can feel Calum's eyes on him. "Tea?" He asks, but already grabbing two mugs.

"Yeah, please."

Louis then finally faces Calum again as he sets down a tea in front of him. He's met with his dark brown eyes set intently on his face, he feels the question lingering between them.

"So.." Calum drags out, stirring milk into his tea. "You too..?"

Louis nods, setting down his toast and tea on the table. Sitting opposite of Calum. "Yeah. And it fucking sucks to see you go through it as well."

A silence falls between them again. The only thing audible is them chewing.

After a moment Calum breathes out, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For intruding you guys' time and space. Look, I'll be driving home today."

Louis frowns, looking up from his toast. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, "I'm good. I'll leave you guys to it, I don't want to intrude your getaway any more. You guys' must hate me for it."

Louis rolls his eyes, "Yeah I really hate that you're here, with us, instead of spiraling alone."

Calum sharply inhales but some crumbs come with it so he starts coughing, almost choking on the toast bits. "Shit, fuck me."

"Yeah, don't say something stupid like that, then." Louis grudgingly says, motioning for Calum to take a sip of his tea.

As Calum's coughing has died down after he drinks some tea, he looks at Louis. "I just-"

"No, you don't 'just'." Louis sternly says, "You're Harry's best friend, and you're my friend as well, Cal. You are not intruding us in any way, we want you here for as long as you need. I want you to be okay."

Louis has to admit it is a little ironic how they ended up here, a while ago they were sitting in a movie theatre doing stupid stuff together to connect with the people they actually wanted, and now they're here.

A sad smile forms on Calum's face. "Yeah, I want to be okay too. But it's so fucking hard."

"I know." Louis nods, "It'll take time. You want to talk about it?"

And it definitely takes time. At least for Louis it does. Still not out of it completely.

"Kind of, yeah. But I sometimes don't even know where to start." Calum replies, finally finishing his toast.

"That's okay." Louis assures him, before pointing outside. "The storm has died down, you want to take a walk on the beach to talk?"

Calum does indeed want that, so Louis rushes to finish his toast and tea. He quickly sends a message to Harry letting him know where they are, when they make their way down to the beach.

"So," Louis starts once they fall into a nice pace, right along the shore. "Luke called me yesterday."

Calum scoffs, the mention of Luke immediately tensing him up, "'Course he did."

Louis can almost taste the bitterness of his words. "Luke was really worried something had happened."

"Yeah, well." Calum shrugs again, he seems to be doing that an awful lot lately. "Lou, can this stay between us?"

He means to not tell Harry, doesn't he? Louis isn't sure.

"Of course." Louis nods, "I'm here to listen."

Calum sighs, "I don't even really know what happened yesterday. I went over to Luke's and he said the wrong thing and I snapped. I just couldn't do it anymore."

After a long stretch of quiet, Calum speaks again, his voice rough like gravel. "He says he still wants me."

Louis glances at him but doesn't interrupt.

Calum's eyes stay locked on the horizon. There's a small beam of sunlight shining down on the otherwise quite dark sea. "He said it a few days ago. Just texted me out of nowhere, that he still loved me and wants me back. Like it is that fucking simple."

Louis hums thoughtfully. "And what did you say?"

"I didn't reply immediately. I didn't know what to say. I stared at it for hours and then just turned my phone off."

Louis doesn't look surprised. "Probably smart to give yourself time."

"I don't know, man," Calum sighs. "Part of me wanted to text back immediately. Like, yes. Fuck, yes, let's fix this, let's try again. But then the rest of me just froze. Because what if I go back and it happens all over again?"

Louis nods slowly. "That's not an irrational fear."

"I sometimes feel like I resent him." Calum's voice is barely as much as a whisper.

"Luke?"

"Yeah." Calum nods, "I don't want to feel that way, but I cannot stop it. I do still love him though and that is fucking with my head. Everything in my house reminds me of him, I still can't sleep on his side of the bed, I've yet to wash his coffee cup he left on the bed side table the last time."

Louis doesn't reply but just listens, letting Calum pour out his feelings.

"God, I sound so fucking pathetic." Calum scoffs as he kicks a shell into the sea.

"You don't." Louis says, plain and clear.

"But okay, I'm scared I do resent him. For what he did, still. You know about what he did right?"

Louis nods, "Yeah, Luke told me."

Louis vividly remembers the call where Luke admitted to sleeping with someone else when they were on a 'break'. He doesn't condone the action but he knows better than to only judge.

"Right." Calum says, as if it's just now dawning on him Louis and Luke are friends. "You won't-"

"No I won't talk to him about this, trust me." Louis assures Calum. "What has Luke told you about that night?"

"He said it was an accident, that he wanted to get over me and all he could think about was me. Even if that's true, he still fucked her." Calum spits out the last words with such bitterness, it physically hurts. "He said it didn't mean anything. That it was just him trying to forget me and that it didn't work."

Louis chews the inside of his cheek for a moment. "You believe him?"

"I want to." Calum admits. "But I can't tell if I actually do or if I just want to so bad that I'm trying to convince myself."

"That's fair." Louis sighs. "It's not just about whether he regrets it, though. It's about whether you can trust him again. Whether you can live with what happened."

"That's the thing." Calum's voice breaks slightly. "I don't know if I can. Every time I think about touching him again, I just see his hands on her body. Every time I imagine him kissing me, I wonder how he kissed her. I hate it. Some time ago I got too pressed about it and started questioning, pressing, him if he enjoyed the sex with her. Don't even know why, I don't even want to know."

Louis nods, gently. "It's human to want to know, you're seeking confirmation if there's any part of him that enjoyed it. It doesn't just go away because someone says sorry."

"Exactly." Calum breathes out. "And I don't think he fully gets that. I think he thinks that if he says the right words, or if he tells me he loves me enough times, I'll just come running back."

"And maybe I already did. A few weeks ago, after Stella's birthday we talked and ended up in his apartment. We didn't do anything but he tried to come on me, pretending we'd be fine if we did it. So I stormed off," Calum pauses, "And then after some time we started talking again, but his texts lately were different. It's like feeding an addiction. I know I shouldn't look at them but I need him so bad. I want him so bad."

"Yeah." Louis says, assuring him he's still listening but not wanting to say anything yet.

"Yesterday I finally caved when he asked me to come over. I finally let myself close to him again. But he said the wrong thing, stirred in my wounds and so I stormed off again."

Louis nods, "Figured as much."

"It's so hard because I gave him everything I have when we were together. I know my mental health must've been taking a toll on him as well and that's why I left him in the first place. I needed some time for myself, to figure it out. I'm not not to blame in the way I handled it when I left, but I still needed him, Louis. I needed him so fucking  bad to be there for me. But he wasn't there, he never came to check up on me. He just let me go and turned around to fuck her. When he does those things to me, it feels like I won't ever be enough the way I am."

Louis stops walking and gazes out at the sea, the unruly waves thrashing against the shore like the storm inside Calum's chest. The wind tugs at his hair, he's silent, letting the weight of Calum's words hang between them.

When he finally looks back, his voice is quiet but steady. "Cal, it's not about being enough for him. It's about what he's willing to fight for. What he's willing to choose when it really matters."

Calum snorts bitterly, shaking his head. "Yeah? What if he's not willing? What if all this- All this mess just means he's not the one anymore? That I'm holding onto a ghost?"

Louis hesitates, searching for the right words. "I don't know if he's the one for you or not. But I do know that you deserve to be with someone who makes you feel like the only one in their life. You deserve someone who is willing to help you get through rough patches in your mental health and wants to fight for you."

Calum bites his lip, staring at the sand beneath his feet. "It's just so confusing. One minute I want to hate him, want to slam the door shut and never look back. The next, I'm lying awake thinking about what we had, what we lost. And the worst part? I still want him. Even after everything."

Louis nods slowly, his expression softening. "That's how it is with people you care about. Love doesn't always make sense. Sometimes it's messy, painful, and fucking near impossible to let go of."

And dear, is Louis speaking from experience.

Calum looks up, eyes tired. "But how do you keep going? How do you get out of bed every morning when your mind's a loop of what ifs and why's?"

Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly? I don't know. Some days I just focus on the little things. a good cup of tea, a great feedback reply at work, or just being around people who care. You've got to find those moments that remind you you're not alone."

Calum's shoulders slump. "I feel so alone, though. Like I'm stuck in this mess all by myself."

"You're not alone," Louis says firmly. "Look at me. You've got me, you've got Harry. Even if he's off on his walk right now, and there's different people who care more than you realize. We'll be here through the mess, the pain, everything.

Calum lets out a shaky breath, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "It just feels like a punishment sometimes. Like I don't deserve to be happy after all this."

Louis shakes his head, eyes burning with quiet anger. Not at Calum, but the pain he has to endure. "That's bullshit. You deserve happiness, you deserve to feel safe and loved. And no mistake, no betrayal, no heartbreak can take that away from you unless you let it."

Oh really Louis? Why isn't it hard at all to tell someone else these things, but you're always breaking down your own worth?

Getting annoyed, Louis pushes his thoughts away and focuses on Calum again.

Calum looks away, voice barely audible. "How do you stop thinking about what could've been? About the future that'll never happen?"

Louis's gaze is steady, gentle. "You don't forget. You don't erase those memories or feelings. But you learn to carry them differently. You make space for something new, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but eventually."

They walk a little further, the sound of the waves filling the silence between them.

"Has he actually tried to show you he's changed?" Louis asks.

Calum considers this. "He's been texting more lately. Telling me he's thinking about me. Sent me a photo of the music store we used to go to. Said he couldn't walk past it without thinking about us."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "Alright. That's something, at least."

"Yeah, but..." Calum trails off. "It's not enough. Not yet."

"It doesn't have to be." Louis reminds him. "He's the one who broke the trust. He doesn't get to set the pace. You do."

Calum nods slowly, eyes focused on the horizon like he's trying to find something in it. "Sometimes I think about what it would be like if we started over. Like from the very beginning. New dates, new everything. A clean slate."

Louis smiles faintly. "You think that's possible?"

"I don't know." Calum shrugs. "I mean, I want to believe it is. But I also don't know if I'd ever stop looking over my shoulder. Wondering when the next time he'll fuck up is. And that's not fair to either of us."

Louis is quiet for a second, then says, "Maybe it's not about starting over. Maybe it's about figuring out if you can build something new on top of the mistakes. Not pretend it never happened, but grow from it."

Calum lets that sink in.

"Do you think people can change?" he finally asks.

Louis takes a deep breath. "I think people can choose to. But it's not easy. And it's not quick. And if Luke wants you back, really wants you back, then he's going to have to prove it with actions, not just sad texts and nostalgia."

Calum nods, slowly. "You think he will?"

"I think he might try. But whether that's enough, that's not on him. That's up to you."

There's a pause.

Then Louis adds, voice softer, "But if it helps, I think he does love you. I just don't think he knows how to love you right, yet."

Calum swallows hard, emotion brimming in his throat. "Yeah. That's what scares me."

Louis gently bumps his shoulder. "It should. Love's not supposed to hurt like that. And you deserve the kind that doesn't make you question your worth."

Calum looks at him, really looks at him, and for a moment, his eyes shine with something fragile. "I don't know what to do," He admits.

"You don't have to decide today, you can take your time. As much as you need." Louis replies. "But don't ignore what you need in terms of a relationship, just because someone says they love you. Love's not the only part of a relationship. It's the bare minimum. The rest takes work, from both of you."

They fall silent again, walking further down the beach, their footprints filling and fading behind them with each crashing wave.

"Thanks," Calum says eventually. "I mean it."

Louis gives him a small, knowing smile. "Anytime. You've got people, Cal. You don't have to do any of this alone."

Oh Louis, how great of you to tell him this. Especially when you yourself just let Harry in yesterday, right?

Louis grimaces at the voice in his head before he notices Harry in the distance, sitting with his elbows leaning onto his knees, head in his hands, on the steps leading up towards the cottage.

"How much money do you want to bet he forgot his key?"

Calum squints at Louis, "Zero. We both know he definitely forgot them."