Work Text:
“Tell us who you are and what brought you here today,” Niall says from behind the camera. With the bright stage lights shining on them, it’s impossible to see more than shadows behind the camera, but Harry would know Niall’s voice anywhere. “If you’re not from the Seattle area, you can tell us more about that, if you want.”
“I…” Harry glances across the narrow wooden table at Louis, then back at the camera, and says, “I’m Harry.”
“I’m Louis,” Louis says, continuing to stare at Harry. “I don’t live in Seattle.”
“And what brought you here today?” Niall repeats, and Harry closes his eyes rather than roll them. He doesn’t want to come off as an asshole on camera, but he’s not answering that, not when he knows he’ll stutter and stumble over his words.
Instead, Harry looks at Louis, and says, “I don’t think that question’s for me.”
“Okay,” Louis says, nodding, and that single word along with the familiar way he tucks his lower lip between his teeth are all it takes to draw Harry in and have him waiting on bated breath for whatever Louis might say next. “Okay, um, well, I saw Harry— I saw you on one of these videos. One of the lineup ones. Two, actually, but the first one was, I think, someone’s dad guessing who was high. Lottie sent it to me.”
“Who’s Lottie?” Niall asks, bringing Harry out of his reverie. It’s hard to remember he and Louis aren’t alone, despite the room full of people, especially when he can’t see past the soundstage.
“My sister,” Louis answers, turning towards Niall for a second. He’s already facing Harry again when he says, “She sent it to me. And when I saw you on another one where a teacher guessed who was the biggest flirt in high school, I thought you must live nearby or something.”
“I work here,” Harry says quietly, though the mic on his collar and the boom mic overhead will pick up most anything.
“Do you really?” Louis asks, grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Yeah, I’m the staff accountant,” Harry says with a nod.
Niall loudly clears his throat, and they both look his way. “I can tell we’re going to have to edit the hell out of this one. The question was: What brought you here today?”
“Oh, um…” Louis shakes his head, the tips of his ears turning pink the way they do when he’s embarrassed. “We’re exes. And when I saw Harry on those videos, I went to your website and found out you could apply to be part of the series on exes, and I thought, well, why not? And here we are.”
“Here we are,” Harry repeats, rubbing his sweaty palms on his corduroy clad thighs.
“How long were you guys together?” Niall asks, and Harry can’t help but think he’s asking for himself. They’ve been friends since Harry started working there, but he’s always tried to keep his private life private, and Niall’s always been the type to pry.
“Three years,” Louis says, still holding Harry's gaze. “Most of college.”
“So you’ve been broken up for a while,” Niall says. “You two keep in touch?”
Harry shakes his head, twisting his fingers together in his lap, and Louis says, “No. We haven't.”
“You seem nervous, Harry.” Niall chuckles, and says, “How about a shot to start?”
“Yeah, alright,” Louis says, reaching for one of the bottles lined up on the edge of the table. He grabs the tequila before Harry can, and twists off the cap.
“Tequila?” Harry asks as Louis pours.
“Tequila’s for you,” Louis says, sliding the official Truth or Drink logoed shot glass in front of Harry. “I’ll have vodka.”
“Sounds about right,” Harry says, hand shaking as he picks up the glass. He eyes the sparkling amber liquid at Louis’ elbow, and asks, “What’s your chaser?”
“Red Bull,” Louis says, and he winks, and this time Harry does roll his eyes. He can’t help it. “You?”
“Seltzer,” Harry answers, lifting an eyebrow and his shot of tequila. “Ready?”
“What should we drink to?” Louis asks as he picks up his shot, holding it with his thumb and middle finger.
Harry frowns, unable to think of any of his usual puns, so he says, “To old friends?”
“To old friends,” Louis says with a quick nod, then he taps his glass against the table, and Harry does the same.
The first shot of tequila always burns more than Harry remembers, and he’s typically a sipper, not a shooter, but he keeps his head, and makes sure not to rush to pick up his chaser. He waits until Louis sips his Red Bull, then he washes some of the burn away with seltzer.
“Harry, why don’t you go first?” Niall suggests, and Harry realizes he and Louis have just been staring at each other. “Ask the first question.”
Licking his lips, Harry tastes the remnants of tequila. He picks up the top card, and reads, “How do you remember our first meeting?”
Louis smiles, leaning in a bit, resting his forearms on the table. “I was on a date. First date. Like, my very first date with a guy, ever. And you were our waiter. The guy tried to convince me to run out on the check. Like, he thought it’d be funny,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I said no and he left. I stayed. And you bought me a drink. I used to call it my best worst first date.”
“Yep,” Harry says, pressing his lips together. The ‘used to’ is making his stomach swirl, though it could be the tequila.
“Is that how you remember it, Harry?” Niall asks, and Harry nods.
“Yeah, that’s how I remember it,” Harry says, tapping the stack of cards. “Your turn.”
Louis slips the top card off the stack, and flips it over, eyes going a little wide. “Think I know the answer to this one, but, when did you know you were in love with me?”
“That first card was a softball question,” Harry says, directing his scowl at Niall. “You did that on purpose.”
“Answer the question, H,” Niall says, and Harry wishes he could see him back there behind the camera, if only to know for sure he’s giving the right person the death stare.
“What if I don’t want to?” Harry asks petulantly.
“Then you do a shot,” Niall says with a laugh, and Louis reaches for the tequila.
“No, no, I'll answer.”
Harry considers lying. He thinks about telling the story of the first time he said ‘I love you’ because that’s probably the way Louis remembers things, but the name of the game is ‘Truth or Drink’ and Harry always tries to be honest. A second shot of tequila so soon after the first isn’t a good idea, especially when he’s definitely going to have to drink to get out of some of the remaining questions. And it’ll throw Louis off balance, which is only fair. Harry can’t be the only one feeling that way.
“We were friends first. After that night. Louis was just getting used to being out, and I’d recently broken up with my first boyfriend, but, um… I knew, I think, that we’d end up together at some point. It took him four months to ask me out and—”
“Zayn said six months,” Louis interjects.
“Who’s Zayn?” Niall asks, and Harry stops himself from answering for Louis, pinching his lower lip and tugging on it.
“A friend,” Louis says, turning to face the camera and giving Harry a break from his curious gaze. “We were roommates back then. He said I needed to wait six months because Harry’d just gotten his heart broken, and he’d been with his ex for like a year, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Because…” Harry trails off, waiting for Louis to finish, and Louis gives him a crooked grin.
“Because Harry told me he was thinking of going out with someone else,” Louis says. Tilting his head and narrowing his eyes, he asks, “Did you do that on purpose?”
Harry nods. “Of course.”
“Back to the question,” Niall instructs from the shadows. “Harry, when did you know you were in love with Louis?”
“There was one day around finals…” Harry continues, “We were studying together at the library. We had a study room for a group of us and we’d been there for hours, and everyone else had left. Zayn was asleep on the floor and—”
“Wait, but—”
“Hush, Lou, and let me talk,” Harry says, letting himself fall into the familiar blue of Louis’ eyes for a moment before looking down at the tabletop to gather his thoughts. “Anyway. It was just the two of us, and Louis’ little sister called, and I’d never heard him on the phone with her before.”
“You mentioned her, right?” Niall interrupts, to Harry's annoyance. “Lottie?”
Louis’ family is his business, not whoever decides to click on this Truth or Drink video, so Harry shakes his head, but doesn’t go into detail. “So, Louis answered, and he was so patient and sweet and kind and just… I could tell how important his family was to him. I mean, I knew from what he told me, but just from hearing half a conversation, I could feel it. And it hit me then that I didn't just like him. I loved him. I was falling in love with him.”
Harry finally sits up a bit, leaning back in his chair and meeting Louis’ wide-eyed stare, and Louis says, “We weren’t together yet.”
“I know.”
“Your turn, Harry,” Niall says, and though it’s his job to keep them on task, Harry hates him for it a little as he takes the next card off the top of the pile.
“How did our breakup help you grow?” Harry reads, glancing up at Louis. He doesn’t respond, but he does scratch at the scruff on his jaw, a sure sign he’d rather not answer, so Harry slowly reaches for the bottle of vodka.
“No, no, I can answer that,” Louis says. He takes a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out as he exhales. “Our breakup helped me grow…”
When he trails off, Harry says, “You’re just rewording the question.”
“I’m thinking,” Louis corrects with a quiet sigh. “I’m more patient now. Less, um, impulsive, I guess, um, emotionally? If that makes sense? I try to think things through.”
“Has it worked?” Harry asks, and he’s definitely fishing, curious what Louis’ current relationship status is, what his love life has looked like over the years.
“Sort of?” Louis shrugs, and says, “I feel better about myself, so I guess it has.”
Since that doesn’t answer any of Harry's actual questions, he points to the stack of cards, and says, “Your turn.”
Louis flips the card over and winces, sucking air through his teeth. “Who is responsible for the breakup?”
“That would be you,” Harry says. “Only time I’ve ever been broken up with, actually.”
“What happened?” Niall asks, even though that’s not on the card.
“I was leaving for grad school,” Louis says with a slow nod. “UCLA. All the way across the country. And I didn't want to have a long distance relationship.”
Rolling his lips together, Harry bites down hard to keep from scoffing, but Niall knows him too well, and calls out, “Is that how you remember it, Harry?”
Harry lets his scoff loose then, lolling his head to the side to glare at Niall, but Louis speaks up and says, “No. He didn't agree with my reason back then, either. But I was scared, I think. Harry said that when it happened. He said I was scared— That I didn't believe in us. And to be honest, he wasn’t wrong.”
Being told he was right years after the fact isn’t as satisfying as Harry would’ve imagined, and he doesn’t like the sinking feeling. He holds a hand to his stomach and takes a breath, then reaches for a card, and says, “My turn.”
What has been the hardest thing about our breakup? When it first happened, Harry wanted Louis to be miserable. He wanted him unhappy and regretful, and he wanted him to call and admit he’d been wrong. More than anything, he wanted him back. It was the first time Harry experienced that kind of disappointment. He’s always been a bit spoiled, and back then he was used to getting what he wanted. Especially from Louis.
Harry clears his throat, and reads aloud, “What has been the hardest thing about our breakup?”
Tapping his fingertips on the tabletop, Louis studies the card in Harry's hand, then reaches for the vodka, annoying Harry at first. He's watched enough of these videos to know that people usually smile or laugh when they choose to drink rather than tell the truth, but slight downturn at the corners of Louis’ mouth and the deepening frown lines on his forehead tell a different story. He pours himself a shot, meets Harry's eyes, and says with a shrug, “Some things I don’t want to revisit.”
“Fair,” Harry says softly, nudging the stack of cards closer to Louis.
He takes one off the top, and smiles, shaking his head. “Are you in love with someone else?”
“No,” Harry answers instantly, and before Niall can stop him, he asks, “Are you?”
“No,” Louis says, voice softer as he leans in and asks, “Have you been?”
“Yeah.” Harry nods and then shakes his head. “Not really. Not like it was with you.”
“You two are so cute,” Niall says, and Harry smiles as he turns towards Niall’s voice. “It’s your turn, H.”
“Always so bossy, Horan,” Harry says, flipping the bird at the camera. He reads the card to himself, and almost positive he knows the answer, he asks, “Did you ever cheat on me?”
“No,” Louis replies with a vicious shake of his head. “Never.” He takes a card, and reads, “Sexually, where can I improve?”
That question sends Harry's mind reeling back to their first time. It was awkward and fumbling and over with too quickly, but even then it was better than he’s had in the years since. Still, he isn’t about to tell Louis that. He reaches for the tequila, and Louis’ mouth drops open.
Cocking an eyebrow, Harry repeats Louis’ earlier words, “Some things I don’t want to revisit.”
“Oh, really?” Louis laughs, and grabs the vodka bottle.
“Are you not going to answer the next question just to be a pain in the ass?” Harry asks as he pours his tequila.
“I was going to do one with you,” Louis says, filling his glass. “But I probably shouldn’t.”
Harry tips the glass back, swallowing hard. This time he doesn’t wait, washing it down with seltzer, eyes watering as he picks up the next card. “Be honest, if you could fuck one of my friends, who would it be?” Turning to the camera, Harry shouts, “Niall, he’s coming for you!”
“Niall’s your friend?” Louis asks, reaching over and gently touching Harry's knuckle.
“Yeah,” Harry says, the liquor loosening his tongue. “We were roommates until he left me.”
“Left you?” Louis asks, an unmistakable hint of jealousy in his tone.
“Always so dramatic,” Niall says. “I moved in with my girlfriend.”
“She’s your wife, Niall,” Harry says, sipping his seltzer.
“She was my girlfriend then,” Niall says. Then he coughs, clearly faking. “Louis? Care to answer?”
“Oh, um, no, I don’t want to fuck any of your friends,” Louis says, like it’s a silly question.
“But you don’t know them,” Harry says with a frown.
“Do you want me to want to fuck your friends?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head. “Then it’s my turn.” He extends one finger and slides a card off the stack and across the tabletop, smirking when he sees what it says. “Do you love fucking me? Why or why not?”
“It seems to me like I’m getting all the sex questions,” Harry says, pursing his lips, but he figures he might as well answer. “You know I do.”
“Do?” Niall asks, clearly surprising himself with the volume of his voice because he chuckles, and repeats a little quieter, “Do?”
“Did,” Harry says, snatching the next card up and reading it. “Another easy one for Louis. Why do you think we didn't work out? Whose fault is it?”
“My fault,” Louis answers with a quick nod, tapping his nails against the full shot of vodka in front of him. “Should I drink anyway?”
“No,” Harry says, waving away his concern. “Read me the next one.”
“Okay, this could be an easy one,” Louis says as he scans the card. “What is something you haven't told me since our breakup?”
“Oh, um…” Harry fidgets with his rings, thinking it over. It could be an easy one, Louis’s right. He could tell him that he’s pescatarian now, or that his sister’s engaged, or that he has a cat named Pause at home. And he almost does. “I… I… I thought you’d call. You know, after a couple of weeks or months. At Christmas. On my birthday, maybe.”
“Harry,” Louis says in the way only he can, remorse and regret wrapped up in just his name.
“It’s fine. It’s been years,” Harry says, forcing a laugh that comes out too loud and too sharp. “My turn!”
After reading the next question to himself, Harry grabs the entire stack of cards, pushes his chair back with a screech, and stomps off in Niall’s direction.
“Harry! What the hell?” Niall asks, jumping out of his chair.
“This card,” Harry hisses, tossing it at Niall. He doesn’t mean to be a bad sport, but it feels like Niall rigged the cards for him to answer this. “Do you think we gave up on us too quickly?” He flips over the next one. “Where do you think we failed us?” He flips over another one and holds it up for Niall to see. “I’m really not here to rehash our past.”
Niall levels him with a look.
“Okay. Not here to rehash the breakup through seventeen slightly reworded versions of the same question.”
Niall rolls his eyes. He takes the cards and turns the whole stack over, skimming through and pulling a few more out. He drops them on the floor and says, “Weeded a few repetitive questions. The rest you answer or you drink. Okay?”
“Okay,” Harry says, rolling his eyes right back. Then he whispers, “Thanks.”
With less stomping and a little sway to his hips when he realizes Louis is watching him, Harry walks back to his chair and pulls out a seat.
“What?” Louis asks as Harry sits down.
“I’m not asking you a million times what went wrong with our relationship,” Harry says, going for an innocent smile. “Niall went through the cards and pulled the boring ones. I promised to answer the rest.”
“Or drink,” Louis says, pointing at the still full shot of vodka in front of him.
“Or drink,” Harry repeats. He straightens the cards on the table, and pulls one off the top, and smirks as he reads, “Have you slept with anyone since we separated? Anyone I know?”
“Yes to the first,” Louis says, and then he picks up the shot of vodka and eyes it, then sets it back on the table. “Yes to the second.”
“Who?” Harry asks before he can stop himself.
“I— I’m not going to tell you now,” Louis says, holding up his hands palms out like Harry's a frightened animal. “I don’t think it’s fair to bring anyone else’s name up without their permission. I’ll tell you later, if you want. Off camera.”
Harry heaves a sigh and swallows his argument, trying not to check every person they both know off the list of who would do this to him. “Fine. Your turn.”
One of Harry's favorite sounds used to be Louis’ laugh, the way it comes out hahaha, and hearing it now makes him smile. As Louis’ laugh turns to giggles, he waves the card, and says, “Can we try and kiss to see if there’s still something there?”
“Does it really say that?” Harry asks, and Louis shrugs, passing him the card. It definitely does say that. And now Harry has to answer or drink. He wants to say yes because Louis is an amazing kisser and Harry didn't even get a goodbye kiss when they broke up, but he doesn’t want it on camera. Or in front of Niall. Or anyone else lurking around the studio.
The third tequila shot doesn’t burn as much, but it does make Harry burp.
“I guess I can’t complain,” Louis says, though he’s still scowling when Harry pulls the next card.
It’s Harry's turn to laugh, but he stifles it, rubbing the tip of his nose as he says, “Call a friend and ask them if we should get back together.”
“Shit,” Louis says, but he leans to the side and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Who should I call?”
“Not whoever I know that you slept with,” Harry snarks, clenching his teeth.
Louis points the card at him, licking his lip. “I’ll call Oli.”
“Oh? How’s he doing?” Harry asks. He hasn’t seen Oli in just as long, and Louis’ childhood best friend was always a good guy, always fun to be around, and always willing to give Louis a hard time. Louis isn’t the only person Harry lost when they broke up.
“He’s good,” Louis says, laying his phone down on the table and putting it on speaker. “Married. Two kids. They got his hair. Cute as shit.”
“’Sup, Lewis,” Oli says, and Harry grins. He sounds the same.
“Hey, Oli, um…” Louis clears his throat, glancing up at Harry with a smile. “I’ve got a question for you.”
“Then fucking ask it, man,” Oli says, slightly staticky voice clearly amused.
“What do you think about, um, me and Harry getting back together?” Louis asks, scratching the short beard on his chin.
“Seriously?” Oli’s voice goes higher than Harry remembers hearing it, and he says, “You know what I think of that. Have you guys talked? What’s going on?”
“Hey, Oli,” Harry says, leaning over and resting his forearms on the table. Maybe he can pry some context out of Oli’s statement.
“Harry? Holy shit! Is that you?” Oli asks, and Harry smiles so hard it hurts a bit.
“It’s me,” Harry says, meeting Louis’ eyes. “Do you know, um… Truth or Drink?”
“Isn’t that on YouTube?” Oli asks, and Harry raises his eyebrows.
“Yep,” Harry says, and Oli cackles until Louis taps the screen abruptly and hangs up. “Alrighty then.”
“Moving on. My turn,” Louis says, putting his phone away and taking the top card off the stack. His eyes get a little wider when he looks at it, then he reads, “Name three reasons we shouldn’t get back together.”
“Ugh…” Harry rubs his stomach, hoping the tequila will settle, but there’s no use fighting it. He’s quickly on his way to drunk, and he’s not ready to do another shot yet. Thankfully he had a good breakfast. “I don’t know why you thought this would be a good idea, Louis, but okay. One, you broke up with me. Two, I live here. Three, you don’t.”
“Those are your three reasons?” Louis huffs a little laugh, taking the next card and sliding it face down across the table to Harry.
“Those are my three reasons,” Harry says, and he shrugs. “You’re asking me to think about this shit with a belly full of booze.”
“I’m just glad you didn't say you hate me or something,” Louis says, and Harry grimaces, reaching across the table to swat Louis’ hand.
“I could never hate you,” Harry insists, flipping over his card and frowning. “Do you ever fantasize about me?”
“Ha!” Louis picks up the bottle of vodka and pours a shot, and Harry boos. Loudly. Niall snickers behind the camera.
“That just means you do,” Harry says haughtily, lifting his chin, but Louis doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, just swallows his Red Bull and winks as he selects the next card off the shrinking pile.
“Have you ever had a one-night-stand?” Louis asks.
“Yep,” Harry says, belatedly slapping a hand over his mouth. Somehow, it just occurred to him that he works here, and he’s just spilling private information on camera for the world to see. His mother could watch this! Closing his eyes, Harry steadies himself, then blinks, and reaches for a card. “What was your first impression of my parents-slash-family?”
“You know I love your family,” Louis says, waving off the question. “I don’t know if I remember my first impression. I know I was trying to make a good impression on them.”
“You succeeded,” Harry says, elbows on the table, resting his face in his hands. “They were as heartbroken as I was when we broke up.”
“Don’t say that, Harry,” Louis says, palm flat to his chest. “Were they mad? They're not still, are they?”
“I don’t know,” Harry says honestly. “It’s not like we talk about you on holidays or anything. You’d have to ask them.”
“Maybe one day,” Louis says, so quietly Harry wonders if he imagined it. He takes a card from the quickly disappearing pile, speaking up as he reads, “Are you happier without me?”
Harry's first instinct is to answer a resounding yes, but he stops himself, pouting as he thinks it over. “I think… I think that’s a really tough question because I haven't known you for so long. I’m happy. I like my life. I like my friends. I like my job, except when they make me get drunk for YouTube views. I like my hobbies. I love my cat. She’s the best.”
“You have a cat?” Louis asks, leaning in with a sweet smile.
“Yeah, her name's Pause, like P-A-U-S-E.” Harry pulls out his phone, and shows Louis his lockscreen, a picture of Pause curled up in a sunbeam, and Louis smiles wider.
“Love her name.”
Grinning, Harry says, “I didn't finish answering. Were you trying to distract me?” Louis shakes his head, so Harry continues, “Anyway, like I said, I’m happy and I love my life, but am I happier without you? I don’t know because I don’t know what this life would be like with you.”
“That’s a fair answer,” Louis says, nodding and biting his lip. “Are you drunk?”
Harry takes a mental inventory, and almost chokes on a laugh. “Yeah. Are you?”
“Not yet, but I might be after this next question,” Louis says, wiggling his eyebrows.
The next card makes Harry sigh, so before he reads it, he grabs the bottle of vodka and pours Louis a shot. Raising his eyebrows, Louis wrinkles his nose, and Harry reads, “Give me one good reason why you think we were made for each other.”
Just as Harry thought, Louis drinks the shot of vodka without answering, shivering as it goes down, and gulping Red Bull to chase it. He shakes it off, and says, “Know how you feel about ‘meant to be’ and ‘fate’ and all that.”
“No fate but what we make,” Harry singsongs and does a little dance in his folding chair.
“That’s from Terminator,” Louis says, making Harry squawk a laugh.
“Terminator 2: Judgment Day,” Harry corrects, then he says, “It’s how I feel. Maybe it’s not romantic or whatever, but people put so much stock in ‘fate’ or ‘meant to be’ when relationships are hard. They take dedication and work.”
“I think that’s romantic,” Louis says, trying to pick up a card and picking up two, leaving one on the table.
“No, no, no,” Harry says when Louis tries to put one back. “You already saw it so you have to keep both.”
“I forgot Drunk Harry is so bossy,” Louis says, eyes flickering from card to card. He finally settles on one, and reads, “What is your favorite part of my body?”
“Eyes,” Harry immediately replies, and Louis pulls back a bit, clearly surprised. “You thought I’d say your ass?”
“That or my thighs,” Louis says, cheeks pink under the bright studio lights.
“I’ve always loved your eyes.” Harry can’t help it, he gazes into them, and says, “Blue. Bluey-greeny-blue. So pretty.”
“You’re drunk,” Louis teases, pointing at him twirling his finger through the air.
“So are you,” Harry says, catching Louis’ hand and pulling it in, attempting to bite him.
Yanking his hand away, Louis waves the other card at Harry. “Should I ask this one?”
“No, I’ll go,” Harry says, swaying in his seat as he takes the last card. He groans, annoyed all over again with the game, but he reads it. “Today, right now, can we get back together – yes or no?”
Louis gives more of a non-answer. “I don’t think that’s up to me, is it?”
“Is it?” Harry asks.
“Is it? Louis repeats, and Harry rolls his eyes. He goes ahead and pours himself a shot of tequila. He gets the feeling he’ll need it.
“Read your card,” Harry says, sipping his seltzer, hoping it’ll water down the tequila in his stomach.
Louis taps the card on the table, rocking back and forth slightly in his chair, then he seems to steal himself before he asks, “What would it take for you to give us another chance?”
Ready with his shot of tequila, and completely unwilling to answer the question, Harry smirks, lifts the shot glass and swallows.
Game over.
“Cut!” Niall shouts, and even though Harry's expecting it, it startles him.
He quickly removes his lav, leaving the mic on the table, and before Dave the audio guy can get to Louis, Harry's there. “Want me to help with your lav?”
“What’s a lav?” Louis asks, tugging at it.
“The mic,” Harry says, circling his fingers around Louis’ wrist and stilling his hand. He lays his other hand on Louis’ shoulder and slowly spins him in place, rambling as he lifts the hem of Louis’ shirt to unclip the pack from the waistband of his jeans. “It’s short for lavalier. Which is actually, like, a French word that means necklace, I think, but it’s the mic on your lapel.”
The dimples at the base of Louis’ spine look the same, not that Harry thought they’d look different, but he certainly didn't expect to see them today. Or ever again. The tequila’s turned his brain to mush, but he tries to focus. Harry slips the cord out of Louis’ collar, and reaches over Louis’ shoulder to remove the mic, then Dave’s there to take the lavs away, and Niall’s shaking Louis’ hand while Louis nods and smiles and murmurs a quick thanks to Harry for his help with the lav, and Harry has to leave. Thankfully, he already planned to head home early.
His bag is in his office, so he ducks in there, grabs his things, and says a slightly slurred goodbye to whoever he passes on his way out the door. Knowing he was participating in Truth or Drink, Harry took the bus to work that morning, and he’s standing at the bus stop, thankful that the canopy shields him from the rain. Of all days to forget his umbrella.
“Harry!” Louis’ voice rings out, and Harry turns to see him walking fast, heading towards him, holding tight to his umbrella. He joins Harry under the canopy, and tilts his umbrella to the side, protecting them both from the rain coming in at an angle. “Hey, um… Can we talk?”
“Now?” Harry looks around at the other people waiting for the bus, then lowers his voice, and says, “You could’ve just called me or, like, I don’t know, contacted me off camera. I don’t know why we had to do that.”
“You didn't have to,” Louis says, and he almost sounds offended, which probably means his feelings are hurt, but Harry doesn’t respond, waiting for Louis to explain, and he does, “I— I’d had a few drinks that night when I decided to apply, and I don’t know, Harry. I thought, somehow, maybe it was safer to talk to you on camera.”
“Safer?” Harry huffs, and Louis shrugs.
“I figured that way you wouldn’t yell at me,” Louis admits as the bus pulls up and stops in front of them.
Everyone under the canopy mills around, lining up as the bus doors open, and Harry joins them, glancing over at Louis. “I wouldn’t’ve yelled at you. I kind of want to now, though.”
“Understandable,” Louis says, gently nudging Harry's arm. “So can we talk?”
Harry stops and waves the bus driver on, turning to face Louis. “Talk.”
“Okay,” Louis says, nodding and chewing on his lip. “The questions I didn't answer. I’ll answer them now, if you want.”
“I don’t remember the questions,” Harry lies. He remembers every single one, despite however many shots of tequila he had.
“Of course I fantasize about you, but you already knew that,” Louis says, and Harry nods, glad to have confirmation he’s not the only one. “I just… I felt… I don’t know, vulnerable on camera.”
“Why?” Harry asks, then barks a laugh. “Never mind. I get it. I felt that way, too.”
“Felt like everyone could tell why I was there,” Louis says softly, looking down at his hands, but Harry bites his lip to keep from asking exactly why that was, and lets him finish. “The hardest thing about our breakup was how much I missed you and how miserable I was, and to be honest, how stubborn I was. I wouldn’t admit I’d been wrong. It was like— like once I realized I’d made a mistake, I dug my heels in. Tried to convince myself I’d made the right choice, breaking up with you.”
“Why are we doing this?” Harry asks. The sense of satisfaction he thought he’d feel knowing that he’d been right all along is missing, and no matter what he said to Niall, he really doesn’t want to rehash their relationship when it ended so long ago.
“Because I wanted to apologize,” Louis says with a firm nod. He steps his feet further apart, widening his stance and crossing his arms over his chest, a sure sign he’s still as stubborn as he was back then. “Some other things, um, that I didn't say, but that weren’t really questions, um, your three reasons? I broke up with you, yeah, and you live here, but, um, I don’t live in L.A. anymore.”
Harry feels his eyes widen and his eyebrows raise, so he quickly smoothes his features, but he still sounds surprised when he says, “Really?”
“Yeah, I, um, I live in Olympia,” Louis says, turning to look south. “Director of Climate Programs for the county.”
“That’s… That’s so not what I expected,” Harry says, and Louis shrugs while Harry's mind reels.
“Sometimes life takes you down a different path.” A path an hour down the road from Harry, apparently. Louis steps out from under the canopy, squinting up at the sky and the sun breaking through the clouds, and Harry follows.
“Who was it?” Harry asks because he has to know, though he has an inkling.
“Zayn,” Louis says easily, like he’d been waiting to answer.
“Oh,” Harry whispers, because knowing for sure is different than assuming, and he shouldn’t feel sick with jealousy when they weren’t even together then, and aren’t together now.
“He and his boyfriend Liam had broken up and he came to visit me in L.A.,” Louis explains, and Harry considers stopping him because he doesn’t want the details. “We were both so unhappy, and to be honest, it didn't help much.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry says without thinking, and Louis chuckles quietly.
“Don’t apologize, Harry,” Louis says with a crooked grin. “Besides, Liam and Zayn are married now. And— I mean, I’m here.”
“And in Olympia,” Harry says, still shocked at the news.
“Yeah.” Louis reaches over, adjusting the collar of Harry's shirt, and says, “You know, you didn't answer all my questions.”
“That’s the point of the game,” Harry says with a smirk, trying to keep some control of the conversation.
“Well, I’m going to ask. And you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to tell me the truth, but I’d really like to know the answer,” Louis says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “What would it take for you to give us another chance?”
“I… I… Lou, I…” Even after everything, Harry wasn’t expecting that, and he struggles to find the words to respond, finally meeting Louis’ stare and settling on, “Can we start with lunch?”
“Yeah, we can do that,” Louis says, relief evident in his voice.
“Actually,” Harry says, grabbing Louis’ arm and pulling him back under the bus stop canopy. “Can we start with a kiss?”