because i liked a boy

by Vodkaskys

Summary:

inspired by the iconic tweet: https://x.com/fItfrry_/status/1953540825314398699
Based on the magnificent song by Sabrina Carpenter, "Because I Liked a Boy"

Notes:

Hi, this story was inspired by this tweet: https://x.com/fItfrry_/status/1953540825314398699
, written and edited in a week. For a long time I wanted (and begged) authors to write something with that song, and since no one listened, I ended up writing it myself. Please keep in mind that English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, make sure to let me know. I did my best tho. Thanks x

Chapter 1: one

It all starts like this: Harry wakes up from a well-deserved nap in his dressing room, rubs his eyes with his hand, and sighs. This shouldn’t feel like this; this shouldn’t feel so absurdly complicated. Something is wrong.

He’s in his underwear, walking around the sofa and the dresser.

Breathe.

He tells himself.

Breathe.

He had just performed a concert the night before, one of the best—loud, charming, and enthusiastic.

He had felt genuine adrenaline. After so many years in this industry, one would think he no longer feels the same stepping on stage, walking the same places, singing the same songs, doing the same dances, the same bad jokes, and seeing the same kind of fan signs (don’t get me wrong, he loves his job, he loves the fans, and he loves feeling like a damn God up there), but all that euphoria, all that adrenaline, vanishes once he steps off stage.

He locks himself in his dressing room and cries until he falls asleep.

It wasn’t always like this, though. He used to have fun, explore cities, go out to bars with his bandmates, and sometimes hook up casually.

But after so many years, it became absurd. He could no longer go out to explore the city without fans following him, asking for photos and videos. Bars would become overcrowded once it was known that Harry Styles and his band were there, and everything turned stormy and overwhelming. One-night flings became a risk of having photos or videos of him naked or very drunk leaked.

Now, the best option after a concert was always to shower, go to bed, read or watch a movie, and fall asleep (mostly in tears).

“Are you ready to go home, Harry?” a voice says as someone knocks on the dressing room door.

“Y-yeah, one minute,” his voice thick and dry.

“We’ll wait for you at the entrance.” He hears the footsteps fade and sighs.

He clears his throat, feeling pain in his throat (he’ll need a hot tea when he gets home).

Home.

The word resonates in his head as he pulls the sweatshirt over his head. He puts on sweatpants and looks at himself in the mirror.

“Could be worse,” he says aloud.

He grabs his backpack and leaves the dressing room. He’ll be back in a few months, but he feels relieved to leave.

“Good morning, H,” greets Sarah, the star drummer of his band.

“Hello, darling,” he manages to say.

“Wow, that throat doesn’t sound too good,” she responds with a grimace that makes him laugh.

“It’s fine, I’ll have a hot tea when I get home.”

“Do you want to come to dinner tonight?” Mitch asks, approaching them with his things hanging heavily from his arms.

“I’d love to, mate, but I have a date when I get home,” he smiles at them, hoping they catch his joke.

Sarah is the first to let out a giggle.

“Your bed missed you too, Harry.”

Mitch huffs and starts loading things into the car.

“But seriously, Harry,” Sarah lowers her voice, “you should go out more now that you’re in London, stroll around, and see if you find a cute guy to bring home.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at her.

“Sure, because everyone wants a famous, unstable thirty-one-year-old man who can’t maintain a serious relationship—”

“I’m not talking about a serious relationship; I know you don’t want one either.”

He makes a face. It’s not exactly true; he’d like to walk through the park holding hands with a handsome guy, cook dinner for him, have kisses without passion in the middle, watch cheesy movies and romance films, and—

“You know, we’re having a party next week; come meet people,” Sarah interrupts his thoughts.

“Yes, H, it’ll be good for you to meet new people,” adds Mitch.

Harry huffs without much humor, and they all get into the car.

“Where will you leave your little creature?” he asks playfully. Mitch and Sarah have a two-year-old, and sometimes Harry hates how sweet and doting they are—it reminds him of what he doesn’t have and so deeply longs for.

Domesticity. Oh, he would give anything for it.

“She’ll stay with her grandparents, thanks,” Sarah says with a smile.

“Also, friends who aren’t in the industry will come,” Mitch nudges her.

“You know I shouldn’t go out with them,” Harry reminds, smiling bitterly.

“Well, some will be in the industry. What about that director who asked you to do the music for his new project?” Sarah asks Mitch.

“Oh yes, he would be great, H.”

“A director?”

“Come on, he’s very handsome,” says Sarah, “though I’m not sure if he likes men, but at least you can be friends.”

“I’m sure he likes men,” Mitch replies.

Both Harry and Sarah raise their eyebrows.

“What? I saw him kissing an actor at a party about four years ago.”

Harry huffs.

“That doesn’t make him gay. He could have been drunk and, you know, experimenting…”

Sarah laughs.

“Well, then be friends.”

“How would you know we’ll get along?”

“Because he has your sense of humor and is equally sweet,” Mitch says, pinching Harry’s cheeks playfully.

“So you had this meeting planned, huh?” Harry asks, amused.

“Oh no, darling, we just stopped seeing him for a couple of years at parties and saw him a few months ago during the tour break at home, and he seemed pretty lonely, less lively than usual.”

“And you know what they say,” adds Mitch. Time heals all wounds.

Harry laughs at Mitch’s exaggerated wink.

“Well, honestly, I’d rather be Tyler’s babysitter.”

Mitch laughs and Sarah smiles, shaking her head.

“Come on, Harry, go have fun. You’re finally on vacation after a big, successful tour. Live a little.”

“Believe me, I will. Exercise, dinners on my balcony, perfect mornings of reading and coffee in my living room.”

Mitch laughs again, and Sarah smiles broadly.

“Think about it; I’ll send you the details next week.”

“All right.”

Harry looks out the window for the rest of the trip to the airport and sleeps through the entire flight.

He says goodbye to Mitch and Sarah upon arriving at London airport and orders a taxi to go home. The taxi driver chats with him, and upon arriving at the entrance of his street, Harry signs a flyer for his daughter and they take a picture together.

“Shit” he says aloud upon entering his home.

He feels tears sting the corners of his eyes, breathes in the familiar scent of his place, and observes everything as if for the first time.

God, he missed his home so much.

A calming silence and warm air greet him immediately. His skin tingles, and he allows himself to smile.

It’s late outside; the sun is about to set. He hurries to drop his suitcase in his dressing room and change clothes, wanting to go out to buy some food for dinner.

He ends up leaving his house about twenty minutes later, sighing as he passes through the park and over the bridge leading to the food area.

He orders some Chinese food and walks back toward the park.

Everything happens very quickly. In one second, his plate of food is on the ground, his hands stained with sauce, his mouth open, about to complain, a soccer ball scattered over his hot food on the ground, and a man running toward him, repeating “I’m sorry” so fast and so many times it makes his blood boil.

“Mate, I’m so sorry, it was a miscalculation,” says the man now standing in front of him.

Harry still looks at his food on the ground, frowning with a grimace of annoyance. He barely hears what the man is saying. It’s not a big deal, really; he’s just tired, slept uncomfortably on the flight here, and was ready to eat, watch a movie, and go to sleep. And now he has this: his food ruined along with clothes splattered by Chinese sauce, a man and his high-pitched voice telling him it was a mistake, and an uncomfortable flutter of hunger in his stomach.

“Hey, can you hear me?” The man brazenly puts his index finger on Harry’s chin and lifts his gaze to meet his.

How dare he touch Harry?

“How dare you—”

The exclamation dies in his throat when he meets the man’s eyes.

“Shit” says the man, removing his finger from Harry’s chin as if burned.

Harry feels his cheeks heat up. The man is, without exaggeration, HOT AS HELL. Beautiful, magnetic blue eyes, a beard that makes him look exquisitely mature, salt-and-pepper hair at the temples giving him a sexy silver fox vibe, and honestly, Harry has to swallow seeing him head to toe.

The man also looks at him, eyebrows raised, and speaks again.

“You’re Harry Styles,” he says in a high-pitched voice.

Harry thinks he has died and gone to heaven. Seriously, maybe that soccer ball hit him in the head so hard he died and went to heaven, greeted by this gorgeous angel/silver fox/exquisite man/hot specimen.

“I’m so sorry,” the man rushes to say, perhaps mistaking Harry’s silence.

Harry seems to regain his voice. He swallows the saliva in his mouth and clears his throat. The pain reminds him he’s back in reality.

“I-it’s fine,” his voice raspier than he thought.

“Louis!” A voice even higher than the man’s is heard, and a tiny child of about nine runs toward them. “My ball!”

Harry looks at the boy, then back at the man who now smiles at him.

Shit, could this man be more perfect?

“Ernie, apologize to Harry now,” the man tells the little boy.

Harry blinks, still silently observing the man, only then realizing he said his name. How does he know his name? He rewinds the last few minutes in his head and remembers, “You’re Harry Styles!” Of course, this exquisite specimen knows who he is.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” says the boy, head down. He picks up the ball and runs toward a group of girls waving at him.

Harry opens his mouth to tell the little boy it’s fine, but the handsome man speaks again.

And seriously, Harry should stop calling him beautiful in his head. He remembers the boy called him Louis.

“Sorry, my brother just didn’t gauge the strength with which he kicked the ball.”

“I-I’m fine, really,” he manages to say. Brother. Not son. His mind calms absurdly after thinking for a millisecond that this exquisite man might be married with a child. Harry definitely wouldn’t go there.

“Let me replace what he knocked over, okay?” Harry looks confused, and the man glances at the ground in response. Harry follows his gaze and realizes he means his plate of food.

“Oh… it’s fine. I’ll go back and buy another one.”

“Of course not, we knocked it over, so we’ll pay for it, okay?”

Harry remains hypnotized by his long eyelashes. God, he’s too handsome. He nods slowly, and the man smiles at him again.

“Great! Let me tell my siblings we’re going back to the food area.”

He doesn’t wait for Harry’s confirmation and runs toward the group of children who seem to be sitting on a blanket, shouting at him from afar.

Harry takes a deep breath, looks at his sauce-stained hands, rummages through his sweatpants, and finds some paper to clean himself.

The man returns running toward him with napkins in hand.

“Here,” he hands the napkins with a smile. “My siblings and I were having a picnic, so there were plenty of napkins there.”

Harry smiles at the explanation, making the other man’s smile widen. He finishes cleaning himself and throws the napkins in the trash. The man gestures for Harry to walk with him.

“So you know who I am,” Harry accuses as they walk toward the food.

Louis growls.

“Of course I know. You’re quite famous, and I have two teenage sisters who listen to your music.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. They didn’t see you, or rather didn’t realize it was you. Otherwise, you’d have had two screaming girls in your ear,” he says, amused.

Harry laughs.

“So you just told them you were going to get food with a man your brother kicked?” Harry asks, amused.

“Oh come on, the ball didn’t hit you, only your food.”

“Well, that’s true.”

Louis smiles.

“I just told them I was going to pay for the plate of food Ernie threw at this handsome man.”

Harry bursts out laughing, covering his mouth immediately, but Louis smiles widely, eyes crinkling.

“You didn’t tell them the last part.”

“Of course I did,” Louis replies. “We can ask them if you want.”

Louis grabs his arm and pretends to pull him toward his siblings. Harry laughs.

“All right, all right, I believe you.”

“I’m Louis, by the way,” he says.

“I know.” Louis looks at him sideways, eyebrows raised, a playful smirk. “I mean, I heard when your brother called you that.”

“Oh, right. I thought you recognized me.”

Harry looks at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Recognize you?”

“Look, we’ve arrived,” Louis points toward the Chinese food.

Harry smiles, shaking his head at Louis’s joke.

They approach the counter, and Harry orders his usual dish.

“That’ll be fifteen pounds, please,” the cashier says.

Louis pulls out his wallet, but Harry hurriedly takes his card from his pocket and swipes it.

The cashier hands him the receipt, and Louis watches, panting, one hand holding his open wallet and the other over his chest indignantly.

“Harreeeeh!” Louis says, high-pitched.

Harry laughs.

“What’s up?” he responds, feigning confusion.

“I was supposed to pay,” Louis replies, watching Harry pocket the receipt and take his plate of food, thanking the guy at the counter.

“Well, you accompanied me this far, consider the debt settled.”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“Oh”—Harry thinks for a few seconds, and Louis looks confused by the silence—

“Sorry, you don’t have to accept, I… Are you in a hurry?”

“Oh, no, no… well, I was just going home to eat and sleep. It was a long flight,” he explains.

“Ah, you arrived today?”

“Yes, my tour ended yesterday in the United States.”

“Sorry, here I am, throwing your food and interrupting your rest, come on…”

Harry laughs at the man’s genuine concern.

“All right, I can have something.”

“You don’t have to,” he smiles shyly, making Harry’s skin tingle.

“All right…”

“Listen, I think we should both go. I have to return to my siblings anyway; I need to take them home—” Harry opens his mouth to refuse. He still wants to keep talking to this handsome man. He tries not to show too much disappointment, but Louis seems to notice, laughing. Seriously, he laughs.

“Wait, Harry, I mean, I want to invite you properly for a drink another night when you’re not tired from a flight, with plans to relax, and I don’t smell like sweat, wear sports shorts, and have a bunch of kids waiting for me in the park.”

Harry feels his cheeks heat up.

Did the majestic man just ask him on a date?

God.

“Ah… I-I…”

“You don’t have to say yes. God, I didn’t even ask if you’re seeing someone, I just—”

“No,” Harry cuts him off quickly and a little loudly, making Louis laugh. Some people at the park entrance glance at them, more annoyed than pleased. “I mean… yes, it’d be fine to see each other another day.”

“Great! How about tomorrow?”

Harry freezes again. He can’t help the flutter in his stomach, and he’s sure it has nothing to do with not having eaten in over twelve hours.

“Too soon?” Louis asks hesitantly, only then does Harry realize he’s taken too long to respond.

“No, no, tomorrow is perfect.”

“Great!” he replies, and Harry thinks he sees a slight blush on his cheeks. He smiles to himself.

They reach the park too quickly, and he can see Louis’s siblings packing up the blanket and their picnic things.

“I should go before my sisters come here and realize it’s you.”

“I wouldn’t mind, I love all the fans,” he responds sincerely, making Louis smile until his eyes crinkle.

“That’s sweet, Harry, but I’d rather not introduce my family before the third date.”

Harry blushes and opens his mouth several times before a sound finally comes out.

“N-no, I meant—”

Louis laughs loudly.

“Relax, I know what you meant, I was just joking.” Harry calms slightly and can’t help laughing. “You’re tired, and trust me, they won’t let you leave.”

“Its fin—”

“Don’t go on,” he replies playfully. He takes out his phone and hands it to Harry. “I can ask for your number?" You can ask for whatever you want, Harry thinks.

He hurriedly takes Louis’s phone and writes down his number.

Louis smiles and puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Sorry again about your food, Harry,” he says with a pout, and God, that shouldn’t be this sexy. Harry swallows and shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise,” Louis winks and jogs off toward his siblings.

Harry watches him run, his breath caught and his cheeks flushed from that cheeky wink.

God, Louis runs so well.

Great ass (read with emphasis: GREAT ass).

He swallows and shakes his head to shake off his daydream. He hurries toward his house, his skin still tingling.

He enters his home and goes straight to the living room. He sets his plate of food on the table and collapses onto the couch. He closes his eyes and tries to process exactly what had just happened in the past hour. He hadn’t imagined it. It wasn’t some kind of traumatic episode from having gone so long without flirting with handsome guys. It was real.

And the thing is, Louis isn’t even just “a handsome guy”—Louis is more.

More than any adjective could ever describe.

Harry smiles at the ceiling, remembering those incredibly blue, hypnotic eyes, and that smile—God, he’s sure that smile could stop wars.

He finishes dinner and goes to bed.

He thinks of Louis.

Chapter 2: two

Harry wakes up initially thinking he imagined everything. It takes him at least ten minutes after opening his eyes to realize that he didn’t.

He checks his messages and sees that he has one from Sarah first.

Sarah: Hi H ’m glad you got home safely. Make sure to have a good dinner and take something for your throat.

Mom: Hi, love. I’m glad you’re home. Come see me.

And the last message makes his heart race.

Unknown number: Hi Harry, it’s Louis. hope you enjoyed that second dinner x

He smiles at the screen, feeling warmth rise to his cheeks.

He thinks about what he should reply while changing to go for a run.

He goes downstairs to drink a banana smoothie and puts on his headphones.

He thinks about what to reply while running from his house to the park.

He thinks about what to reply while running past the very spot where he met Louis yesterday.

And he thinks about what to reply when he stops at the lake and sees a familiar figure feeding some geese in front of a sign that says, "Do not feed the park animals."

Harry chuckles quietly and walks up to him.

A boy runs past him, followed by a little redheaded girl. They meet Louis and start babbling.

Harry almost regrets walking toward Louis; he turns to walk away before hearing Louis’s high-pitched voice.

“Harry.”

He turns to face him and once again is breathless at the sight. He looks just as attractive.

“Uh, hi.”

Louis smiles widely at him.

“Good run?” Louis nods at his clothes.

Harry suddenly realizes he’s wearing tiny red shorts and a tight tank top. His cheeks heat up, but he smiles.

“Achoo, let’s feed the little geese over there.” The redheaded girl tugs Louis’s arm to get his attention.

Louis crouches down to her level and cups her cheeks.

“We’ll come back tomorrow, okay?” The girl pouts. “I ran out of bread, sorry, baby.”

And God, the way this man manages to make his voice even sweeter for the little girl makes Harry’s heart tighten.

“Loueh, let’s go with grandma,” says the boy Harry immediately remembers from yesterday.

“One second, Ernie.” Louis straightens and approaches Harry, brushing bread crumbs off his shorts. Harry could die seeing those legs.

“You shouldn’t be feeding the birds, Louis,” Harry says with a hint of amusement.

Louis smiles at him.

“I know, I’ve been trying to stop my babies from doing it for years, but they keep insisting,” Louis gestures toward his siblings, who are now doing crooked somersaults near the water. “You know what they say: if you can’t beat them, join them.”

Harry laughs at this.

“What a great big brother you are.”

“Of course I am, Harold”—Harry opens his mouth pretending to be offended at the name change, but Louis keeps talking—“so, ignoring my messages already?”

Harry feels his body heat up and realizes Louis is just joking when he sees the huge smile and the crinkled corners of his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to reply,” he says shyly.

“Uh, so I left you speechless,” Louis jokes, and Harry nods. This makes a blush appear on Louis’s cheeks.

“Louuuuuuiiiiiis,” the boy says in a voice as high as the blue-eyed man’s.

“One second, Ernie,” Louis says. He turns back to Harry. “I have to go, but since we’re here…”

He pauses and raises his eyebrows suggestively, making Harry giggle.

“What’s up?”

“I already know where we’re going for drinks on our date.” Harry holds his breath as a red tint colors his cheeks. “Unless you’ve changed your mind…”

Harry shakes his head so hard he almost hurts his neck. Louis laughs at him.

“Alright then, do you want to meet here, or can I pick you up at your house?”

Harry freezes. He can’t let Louis see his home. No fling, not even a proper boyfriend, has ever been in his house before. His house is sacred, a place of peace and quiet amid all the chaos of his life. He can’t just let anyone in.

“We can meet here,” he says.

Louis smiles wider and winks at him again.

Harry could faint, seriously.

“Right, see you tonight, Harry, at eight.”

Harry smiles and nods, watching Louis take his siblings’ hands as they walk away.

---

Later that day, Harry hits his first crisis before his date with Louis.

He stands in front of his wardrobe, unsure what to wear.

He wants to look good enough for Louis to think he’s hot and want to rip his clothes off right there. But not so good that it seems obvious he wants Louis to rip his clothes off right there.

It’s absurd—he’s never had such trouble picking a good outfit before going out with a handsome guy. But again, this isn’t just “a handsome guy”; this is the grounded specimen who could very well be husband material and a father to his children.

Well, Harry might be exaggerating.

Or not?

Sarah calls at that moment, and Harry decides it’s a sign from fate.

“Hi, darling,” she says.

“Hi, Sarah.”

“Mitch asks if you want to come to dinner tonight. We’ll watch the best performances from The X Factor and Got Talent.”

Harry groans.

“Is that a no?”

“Not… I have a date tonight.”

theres a silence on the line.

“What the hell?”

Harry can’t even blame her for being surprised. I mean, he hasn’t had a proper date in years.

“When did this happen? We literally got home yesterday.”

“I know.”

“Harry Styles, tell me right now what the hell—” demands Sarah.

Harry sighs, staring at the ceiling.

“I met him yesterday,” Harry begins, and Sarah hums on the other end of the line. “He threw my Chinese food.”

“Wait, what?” interrupts Sarah, he can hear the smile in her voice.

Harry smiles at the memory.

“Well, actually it was his little brother who kicked a ball that landed on my plate. He offered to pay for it.”

“Chivalrous.”

“You have no idea.”

“So?”

“He was with his siblings, many of them actually, and he told me he’d take me out for drinks tonight when he didn’t have kids to look after.”

“Well, look at you,” she says mischievously, “going out and meeting handsome guys on your first day home.”

Harry laughs with her.

“I don’t know… I—” he sighs so heavily he’s sure Sarah makes a face.

“Don’t back out now, H.”

“I’m not… I think,” he groans pitifully. “I don’t know what to wear, Sarah, and we’re meeting at the park in an hour, and I don’t even know what to put on.”

“Oh, darling, you’ve never gotten like this over a guy. Is he that handsome?”

Harry laughs hysterically.

“Not even the word covers it, Sarah,” he hears her laugh. “He’s disgustingly perfect—eyes, smile, hair, voice—it’s… exquisite.”

“Really that good, huh?”

“Very.”

“Will you take him home?”

“You know I won’t—”

“I mean, sleep with him. I know no one disturbs your home peace,” Sarah teases.

“It’s the first date, God,” he replies scandalized.

“Come on, it’s never bothered you for one-night stands on tour.”

“Because I know that’s what they are. One-night stands are just sex, not a date.”

“Uhhh, so this is serious,” she says—not a question.

“I don’t know…”

“Alright, darling, go on your date and see how it goes.”

“I still don’t know what to wear; maybe it’s fate telling me I shouldn’t go.”

“Or maybe it’s just you, sabotaging your own date,” Sarah laughs. Harry groans again. “Wear the sheer black shirt and some jeans. You look good in anything, H.”

“I don’t want him to think I’m trying to seduce him for sex.”

“You don’t want that?” she sounds amused.

“Of course I do, but I don’t want him to know immediately.”

Sarah laughs. Harry feels the tension leave his body a little.

“Come on, H, wear whatever, you’re always gorgeous, and he knows it.”

“Ugh, alright, I’ll call you later. Tell Mitch that—”

“That you’re skipping dinner with your best friends to go fuck a sexy man,” she interrupts playfully.

“Shit, no, I won’t have sex… I think.”

“Good luck, H.”

Sarah hangs up, and Harry smiles.

----

Louis is already at the park when Harry arrives. He sees him from a distance wearing jeans so tight that Harry feels a moan building in the back of his throat. A long-sleeve shirt equally snug, printed with red punk letters and designs.

He looks… delicious.

“Hi,” Harry greets when he’s a few meters away from Louis.

Louis lifts his eyes from his phone and instantly raises an eyebrow.

“Well, hello.” There’s a flirt in his voice that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. He feels his cheeks warm as Louis surveys his outfit from head to toe. “You look gorgeous.”

Harry swallows a gasp and stares at him wide-eyed.

How can someone say something like that so naturally?

“Y-you look really good too,” he manages to say. Louis smiles at him.

“Thanks, Harry. This is for you.” He offers a small flower he had hidden in his pocket. “It’s a bit squashed because I didn’t want my sisters to see it, or they’d interrogate me to death.”

Harry laughs and accepts the squashed flower, red tinting his cheeks.

“I love it, thank you.”

“I thought, since this is our number one date, I could bring you a flower,” he explains.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so. Let’s go.”

They start walking out of the park, Harry still looking at his flower and wondering why he feels like a lovestruck teenager instead of an adult on an adult date.

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to go somewhere too big or famous, since you could be recognized easily.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wouldn’t have minded. I enjoy meeting fans—”

Louis interrupts with a gesture of his outstretched hand.

“I know, but let’s just say I’m a little selfish and want all your attention tonight.”

His smile makes the hairs on Harry’s arms stand on end.

God, what he said seriously makes Harry want to tell him, rip my clothes off right now.

“I-I, that’s fine…”

Louis smiles widely at him.

They walk toward a pub Harry has never seen before, tucked between two narrow streets. Harry feels secretly pleased when Louis opens the pub door for him like a true gentleman, guiding him toward the bar with a ghostly hand brushing his waist.

“Louis!” greets the guy behind the bar.

“Hi, Stan,” Louis replies.

The bartender opens his eyes comically wide.

“Holy shit, you’re Harry Styles.”

Harry laughs and hears Louis snort beside him.

“Told you I had a date with him.”

Harry’s cheeks heat up hearing that. Louis told this bartender they were on a date. Who else has he told? What does this guy, who seems like his friend, think about them going out? Should he tell Louis he also told his best friend about their date? Should he take this seriously?

He gets lost in his internal questions so much that he disconnects from Louis and the bartender’s conversation until he feels Louis place his hand more firmly on his waist.

“I thought you were joking, mate—it’s Harry Styles,” insists Stan, gesturing at Harry.

“Yeah, well now that you’ve seen it’s real, can you bring us a drink?” Louis growls.

Harry shivers at the two-tones-lower voice Louis uses, hoping he doesn’t notice while still holding his waist with his fingers.

Louis seems to misinterpret the tension, pulling his hand slightly and speaking so close that Harry has to stifle another moan.

“You okay?”

“Y-yes, I’m fine,” he swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth and lets Louis guide them to the end of the bar.

“Here you go, Lou, and Harry Styles,” Stan says, placing some shots in front of them. Louis eyes Harry with a squint and a smirk. Once Stan leaves, he returns his gaze to Harry, smiling softly in a way that makes Harry tremble.

“He won’t say anything, okay?”

“Nothing?”

“You know what we’re about here. He won’t post it or anything like that. He knows how this works.”

For a moment, Harry doesn’t understand, and then he gets it.

“Ah… alright.” He smiles to reassure him, and Louis seems to relax. “Do many famous people come here then?”

“Hmm?” Louis takes a shot. “Oh, no, just… well, let’s say yes.”

Harry laughs at that. He leaves his flower on the table and downs the shot in one gulp. It burns his throat, making a face that makes Louis laugh.

“Relax, love, the date’s just getting started.”

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand on end at the nickname. He smiles shyly.

“So, Harry…” the blue-eyed man squints. “How old are you?”

“Wasn’t that in the magazines your sisters buy?”

“Magazines? What year do you think it is, Harold? Today is Twitter, Instagram, YouTube,” Louis replies playfully. Harry laughs too.

“Uh, my apologies, I’ve been at this for so long,” he pretends to look at his invisible manicure, earning another laugh from Louis.

“Well, then how do you think my sisters see all of this about you? Maybe they just like your music casually?”

Harry feels heat spreading from his cheeks to his neck.

“Just kidding, love. Of course they know everything about you, at least all that’s public,” Harry is barely processing the “love” as Louis places his palm on Harry’s knee. “Maybe they told me something once, but honestly, I didn’t pay much attention.”

He smiles mischievously, drumming his fingers on Harry’s knee.

“So you don’t pay attention to your little sisters when they talk about their favorite singers,” he teases, trying to hide the tremor in Harry’s voice caused by Louis’s fingers on his knee.

“Oh no, of course I do, but sometimes they give me so much info at once I can’t catch it all,” he gives a lopsided smile (insert moan here). “But that’s good now, right?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, because now I can learn those things from you.”

Harry feels like he could faint.

“Well then, I’m thirty-one,” he says with an equally flirtatious smile. “What about you?”

“Thirty-three.”

“Ufff, older man.” He fans himself with his hand, and Louis laughs.

“the gray hairs aren’t just to look good,” he says, running the hand not holding Harry’s knee through the sides of his hair.

“Definitely good looking,” escapes before he can stop it. Louis arches an eyebrow playfully.

“Mmm?”

“What do you do then?” Harry tries to change the subject, hoping Louis doesn’t notice his blush. “Since you know what I do, it’s fair you tell me too.”

Louis nods, smiling.

“True. I’m a director.”

“Director?” Harry is clearly surprised. “You’re in the industry too?”

“Nothing as glamorous as your pop star life,” Louis replies.

“Trust me, it’s not glamorous at all. Hot maybe, loud too.”

“I’ve seen a few of your videos and some concert clips—absolutely glamorous,” he smiles in a way that makes Harry moan inwardly, lick his lips, and search for something to say.

“Have you directed any very famous films, Mr. Director?” Harry asks, lightly brushing the feather of his chest against Louis. Louis responds with an even wider smile.

“Umm, a couple of them.”

“Like which ones?”

“My turn to ask a question,” he says instead. Harry laughs and nods.

“What’s your favorite song?”

“Really?” Harry laughs, but Louis nods seriously. “Do you mean mine, or in general?”

“Both.”

“Mmm, I love ‘Fluorescent Adolescent’ by Arctic Monkeys,” Louis seems pleasantly surprised and nods for him to continue. “Of my songs, maybe ‘Satellite.’”

“That’s a good song"

"the Arctic Monkeys one?” Louis laughs.

“Yours, love.”

“Oh,” he feels his cheeks burn again. He clears his throat. “What about you?”

“I like songs that make you feel something, that provoke what the artist meant, you know? I can think of ‘Stop Crying Your Heart Out’ by Oasis right now.”

“Good one.”

“Mmm.”

Louis asks more questions, and Harry answers, just as Harry asks questions that Louis answers. He’s absorbed in their conversation, fascinated by everything Louis has to say, delighted with this wonderful man who seems to pull questions and answers out of everywhere, on every topic.

They cover countless casual and controversial topics, and Harry has never felt so comfortable on a date. Louis makes him laugh a lot, and he enjoys it when he can make the blue-eyed man chuckle.

They order a few more shots, but mostly, they just talk.

And Louis keeps his hand on Harry’s knee the entire time.

Harry feels happy.

Chapter 3: three

Harry wakes up the next morning with a bright smile spread across his entire face.

He can’t stop thinking about Louis and their date. Louis had walked him all the way to the entrance of the street where his house was and kissed him on the cheek. Harry would be lying if he said he hadn’t squealed like a hormonal teenager the moment he closed his front door.

He turned on his phone to check his messages. He had over twenty from Sarah demanding that he tell her how the date went. There was another from his mum confirming she’d be home Sunday for lunch, and finally, the one that made him smile so hard his cheeks hurt.

Louis: Hi Harry, I had such a great time on our first date, I’d love to invite you on another tonight.

Then there was a fifteen–minute gap before the next one.

Louis: Too soon? Sorry, but I really would like to see you again, the sooner the better. Let me know if you’ve got plans.

He reacted to Louis’s first message with a heart and to the second with a laughing emoji.

He wrote back saying he’d also had a great time and would love to go out again tonight, but that it was his turn to plan the date.

Louis replied a few hours later.

Louis: Sorry love, I was out with my brothers.

Harry smiled at that. Louis had told him on their date that his brothers and grandparents were staying at his place for the summer holidays before heading back to Doncaster. That explained his thick accent. Harry thought it was unbearably sweet the way Louis talked about his family—he almost let a “let me have your babies, Louis” slip out.

Louis: I’d love for you to plan our second date, darling. Send me the details :)

It had only taken Harry a couple of hours to get used to not squealing and blushing furiously at every pet name Louis threw at him during their date. Even in text, he could almost hear Louis’s rich accent pronouncing every “love” and “darling.”

He went down for breakfast, where Denise—the woman who helped him with cleaning and cooking when he needed—was already there.

“Good morning, Denise, did you miss me?” he asked playfully.

“You know I did, Harry,” she said with a smile. “Sit down, breakfast will be ready in a second.”

“Fine, but you have to sit with me and tell me how Samanta and Agnes are doing at their new school.”

Denise laughed but still joined him at the table, and they chatted about her daughters. Harry listened intently.

After about an hour, Denise told him she had to hurry and clean the pool, and that’s when Harry let it out.

“I had a date yesterday.”

Denise sat back down, raising her eyebrows in amusement.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s nothing too serious… but we’re going out again tonight.”

“Oh wow.”

“What?”

“I’m just happy you’re dating again, Harry.” He huffed, but she added, “I mean it, love. It makes me happy. What’s his name?”

“Louis.” Harry couldn’t help but smile when he said it. “I like him a lot, Denise. I want tonight to be just as good as the date he planned.”

“So there’s some kind of competition?” she teased.

“Pfft, of course not. I just want to make it even better,” he said, making her laugh.

“You could cook something and invite him over for dinner. You’re a wonderful cook.”

Harry swallowed hard. Denise didn’t know this—even after years of working with him—but Harry had a strict rule about not bringing guys to his house. He couldn’t allow it. He lived in so many places—tour buses, planes, airports, hotels, dressing rooms, campers—but his house was his safe place. No one had ever broken his heart there.

He wrote breakup songs for a reason: when your heart gets broken, you have to let it out or it will eat you alive. That’s what he did. But the memories always lingered whenever he set foot in a certain city, backstage, or on a plane. He didn’t want to feel that in his home. He didn’t want to walk in and be met with fleeting memories of some boy who shattered him.

“I could cook something and take it for a picnic,” Harry suggested. “When I first met him, he was having a picnic with his brothers.”

“That sounds lovely, Harry.”

——

He got to work and put together the perfect picnic basket: sparkling wine, buttered bread, spaghetti, and truffle cake from his favorite bakery.

He texted Louis, telling him where to meet him at the park.

It was seven when Louis showed up. Harry’s hands itched, and his eyes were glossy from the glass of sparkling wine he’d downed before Louis arrived.

Louis wore a black button–up shirt done to the collar and ripped black jeans. He looked so damn sexy.

“Hi Harry,” he said in a seductive voice. He pulled his hands from behind his back and held out two blue flowers.

Harry thought he might actually die.

“Two now?” he asked with a huge smile, holding the flowers.

“Two now. It’s our second date after all.”

“I love them.”

Louis smiled.

They ate spaghetti and shared dessert. Louis talked about what it was like working with teenage actors and actresses, and Harry found it nearly impossible not to drool at the sight of the sexiest silver fox alive complaining about disrespectful teens and the need to establish authority.

Harry told him about his songwriting process too.

“I like to write most of my songs, it’s kind of therapeutic, honestly.”

“Sad songs or happy ones?”

“Both, really. Depends on how I’m feeling in the moment,” he said, half–joking.

“It’s the same for me with films. I think when I’m emotionally down, I prefer to work on dramatic, cruel scripts. When I’m at home, in happy moments, you know, I like softer, hopeful plots.”

“So you get to choose what you work on? No pressure?”

“Well, let’s just say I’m somewhat known in that part of the industry, so my choices don’t get questioned. It all works out.”

“You’re finally going to tell me which movies are yours?”

“We can wait until the fifth date,” Louis teased, brushing Harry’s cheek lightly with his hand.

And God, Harry melted right then.

“Or I could just google you,” he challenged.

Louis stiffened immediately, and Harry noticed. He opened his mouth to apologize and say he was only joking. He knew all too well how horrible it was to google yourself—he’d done it once when he was sixteen, ended up calling his mum in tears. To be fair, the press had been tearing him apart for coming out as gay.

Louis waved it off with a soft smile.

“So you don’t want a fifth date, love? I’m offended. I promise I can do better.”

Harry laughed and, in a bold moment, took his hand.

“You’re doing perfectly. I can wait until the fifth date. Even the eighteenth.”

This time Louis threw his head back in a laugh. Harry marveled at how gorgeous he looked. He felt Louis’s squeeze on his hand.

“Oh darling, I hope by our sixth date I can ask you to be mine.”

Harry gasped quietly. Heat rushed through his entire body, and he blinked rapidly to keep tears at bay.

And okay, let’s get something clear: Harry Styles is not a sappy crybaby. It’s just that it had been such a long, long time since anyone had spoken to him—or looked at him—the way Louis did. And now the promise of something real, something serious, made him feel a million things. He wanted to run home, grab his journal, write about this beautiful man, and fill thousands of pages with songs about how perfect Louis was.

“Okay,” he managed to say once he found his voice.

Louis smiled and gave his hand another squeeze. He intertwined their fingers and fed Harry another bite of truffle cake.

They shared more stories about music and film. Harry told him how he got into the music world, and Louis confessed that the only good thing his father ever gave him was industry connections.

They talked and talked until the park was pitch–dark, barely able to see each other. Laughing, they packed up the blanket and picnic basket.

Louis walked him to the entrance of his street again, but this time he didn’t just kiss him on the cheek and leave.

“Harry?” he whispered so close their eyelashes brushed.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Harry held his breath. He thought fleetingly of his first kiss—he must’ve been about twelve, convinced he was in love with the boy who held his jaw and kissed him against a tree. He thought of his last kiss too, just a few months ago, drunk at a party. He didn’t remember the guy’s face or name, but it had been a good kiss.

Now, he closed his eyes and nodded firmly.

And Louis kissed him. Kissed him with his whole body, holding his jaw and waist, moving him where he wanted, parting his lips with his tongue. Harry could barely breathe, but he clung to Louis’s neck and nape, desperate not to let him stop.

He thought of this moment, tried to store every tiny second, wishing he could stay there forever.

-----

This time, Harry let Louis walk him all the way to his front door.

He didn’t even think much about it—they were holding hands, walking down the street, and a minute after they reached his block, Harry told him to keep going.

When they got to his door, Harry felt his body tense. He couldn’t help it. But then Louis smiled at him, and Harry relaxed. It was almost too perfect, overwhelming and exquisite, the way Louis seemed to understand him completely.

“Do you want to come in?”

If there was hesitation in his voice, Louis noticed right away. He shook his head, still smiling.

“It’s okay, love. You’re tired, and so am I.”

“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting anything,” Harry joked.

Louis laughed.

“Of course not,” he said with a wink.

He kissed Harry’s lips, gave his waist a squeeze in goodbye, and Harry didn’t step inside until Louis’s figure disappeared from sight.

He went upstairs and collapsed on his bed with a heavy sigh and a huge smile on his face.

And then it hit him. He had invited Louis into his house. He’d invited him into his home.

Shit.

Harry swallowed hard.

“You’re screwed, Harry,” he told himself before drifting off to sleep.

Chapter 4: four

The following days pass like a whirlwind of emotions. On Sunday he goes to have lunch with his mother, but he doesn’t tell her anything about Louis. There’s still that heaviness in his stomach that makes him believe everything will end before it gets too serious.

On Monday he has his third date with Louis. Louis takes him to see a play where Harry discovers the delicacy and grandeur of ballet. He stays flushed and excited, talking with Louis about the show. Louis seems pleased with himself and utterly enchanted with Harry and his enthusiasm.

Louis also takes his hand while they walk and caresses his cheek before asking if he can kiss him. Harry insists he doesn’t need to ask anymore, but Louis says he loves it when Harry says yes.

On Tuesday he has his fourth date with Louis, a tacit mental agreement where both agreed that each of them would plan the dates alternately.

Harry cooks for Louis, but he does it at his friend Mark’s restaurant, who receives a generous amount of money for lending Harry the entire place so he can impress Louis.

Their fifth date has to be postponed to the following week after Louis tells him he has to go camping with his brothers before they return to their mother’s house in Doncaster.

“It’s okay, Lou,” Harry says, the phone resting on his stomach.

They’ve been talking for the last hour after Harry told him he’d just gotten back from a run.

“I feel like I’d rather be on our date than go camping with screaming kids,” Harry hears Louis say, but he can hear the affection in his voice.

Harry laughs. He’s lying on the carpet in his living room, looking at the drawings his niece sent with his sister the last time they saw each other.

“We can see each other Saturday night,” Harry says.

“Yeah?”

“Of course, actually we could make our date a little more… group-oriented.”

“Group-oriented? Babe, is this your way of inviting me to an orgy? Because it might not be the same.” He jokes.

Harry bursts out laughing.

“Louis, of course not. And what do you mean ‘might’? Are you still not sure?”

“Hey dont knock it till you try it, love” Louis says, and Harry can hear the smile on his lips.

“That’s what I said when I came out during one of my shows,” Harry blurts without thinking.

“Wait, what?” There’s noise on the other end of the line where Harry assumes Louis has moved to another room. “You came out at a concert?”

“Didn’t your sisters tell you that?” He tries to joke, but his voice comes out bitter.

“I don’t think so, babe, I’d remember.”

“It was huge news,” he says tensely.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Louis asks softly.

Harry lets out a heavy sigh. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Louis. It’s just that… remembering that moment overwhelms him too much. The lights on his face, the sign that started it all, the shocked faces of his bandmates, the boos, and the endless stream of shitty articles.

He was just a kid.

“Love?” Louis calls. Harry realizes then that he’s been silent for too long. “You don’t have to tell me anything, it’s okay.”

“N-no, it’s not that, Lou…” Harry swallows the lump in his throat.

“It’s not a good memory.” It doesn’t sound like a question, and Harry feels like crying because of Louis’s tone.

The knot in his throat tightens, and his breathing hitches.

“It wasn’t,” he manages to say in a broken voice.

“Baby, you don’t have to tell me, we can talk about something else.”

Harry feels a tear roll down his cheek. Louis is so kind it makes his heart ache.

“I-it’s… I mean, it’s okay, I want to tell you.”

“Are you sure, love?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Louis says gently.

“It was during one of my first shows, I was sixteen, I’d just signed with the label a few months earlier, there were already fans everywhere, especially in the U.S. It was exciting and I was a teenager, I loved all the attention.” He laughs with a watery voice.

“You still love the attention, love” Louis teases.

Harry smiles.

“Even more back then. I’d already sung at small venues before, but I never talked to the fans, or read their signs out loud. I’d just laugh at some, get uncomfortable with others, but kept singing.” He pauses to take a breath. “It was at that show, our first arena. My best friend, the band’s drummer, and her boyfriend Mitch told me that this time we should try talking to the fans, make it more of a show. Ask them questions, joke around, even flirt a little… They didn’t know at the time that I was gay, I’d never told them. Not because I thought they’d react badly, just… I don’t know, I wanted to keep it for myself and my family.”

“The show was great, lots of screams and applause between songs, I danced a little and walked all over the stage.” He hears Louis hum softly, so he takes a breath. “Then I started talking to the fans. I was nervous, so Mitch helped me, we asked some where they were from, if they were enjoying the show, their names. Sometimes Mitch joked, asking them to admit they were there for him and not me. Then I started reading signs. Some asked me to help them pick baby names, others said it was their first concert, and things like that.”

Harry pauses at the memory, his eyes stinging.

“There was one in particular that caught my attention, I can’t even remember exactly what it said, it wasn’t even that big… God, it wasn’t even that special. But I read it out loud, with the mic echoing through the whole arena. It was a hint that if Mitch could ask out her brother, and the brother had another sign saying he was the brother. So Mitch took the mic and said, ‘Sorry mate, I’m not on that side,’ and I said, ‘Believe me, dont knock it till you try it’”

“Shit,” Louis says quietly. Harry hears him and wants to cry again.

“The whole arena was shocked, even Mitch and Sarah and the backing guitarists looked at me blankly. Some fans screamed excitedly, and some booed. My whole body was shaking, and I wanted to run out of there. But Mitch quickly introduced the last song and we carried on. When I got off stage, Sarah was the first to hug me and say she hadn’t known. Mitch told me everything would be fine.”

“Wasn’t it?”

Harry lets out a bitter laugh.

“Our manager was furious, said I couldn’t go around hinting I liked men. I told him it wasn’t a joke, that I did like men. That made him angrier, said it wouldn’t work that way. The next day they called us to a meeting at the label offices, and a PR and image manager talked to me about my ‘brand.’ He said I was meant to sell to a million teenagers, that they had to sell the idea that fans had a chance with me, that I was available to them. They said I couldn’t be gay. At least not publicly.”

“Fuck.”

“I know, it was dramatic.” He tries to laugh, but the tears are still there.

“You were just a kid, love, it’s okay.”

“That wasn’t even the worst part.”

“Wasn’t it?” Louis asks, his voice thick with sadness.

“No, it was really the media that made everything a thousand times worse. It was destructive and horrible. The first headlines came literally the next day. Titles like ‘New talent Harry Styles reveals at a concert with kids that you should try homosexuality’ or ‘Harry Styles shocks everyone with a gay statement.’”

“They don’t even sound decent,” Louis says.

“They weren’t. Plus, many journalists dug out photos from my mom’s Facebook where I was hugging friends and made it look like they were all my boyfriends.”

“Oh shit.”

“I know, they followed us everywhere with giant cameras and microphones in our faces, demanding statements. Mitch even punched a journalist who wouldn’t let go of my arm.” Louis laughs despite himself. Harry smiles faintly. “Our team wasn’t happy about that, of course. So I went out with a couple of girls, who were actually fans but also small artists in the industry. And they linked me to a few others.”

“So they forced you to date them and hide your sexuality?”

“Sort of, they didn’t threaten me or hold me at gunpoint, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to joke. “But it was the discourse that stuck in my head—about my career. I had to sell myself that way, that’s what it was, that’s how it worked. And at some of the parties I was invited to, there were also LGBT singers and hosts, and guys too, and they all said they got it. They also came out as straight couples, also wrote straight songs, it was all the same. So I just made peace with it.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know, but what else could I do? It was my job, I loved my job, I was excited to go far. Besides, I could still go out with guys, just more… discreetly.”

“Did you have boyfriends?”

“Oh no, it never got that serious. I mean, I did call some of those guys my boyfriends, but it was mostly just hookups and sneaking off to parties. No real boyfriends. They got tired of hiding, tired of pretending they were just friends.”

“Oh, baby.”

“It’s okay, you know? I understood, I still do. Who would want to hide their love for someone else?”

He hears Louis sigh, and he can picture his face. His lips pursed, his quick blinking, and furrowed brows as he tries to put his thoughts in order. God, he misses him, and it’s only been a day since they last saw each other.

“So you haven’t been out again for very long?” Louis asks after a few seconds of silence.

“A couple of years. It wasn’t a big statement or a heavy interview full of information that frankly isn’t anyone’s business. It was more about waving LGBT flags, making more direct comments with LGBT language, and going out with friends and letting myself be photographed.”

“Well, it’s been many years since you were sixteen,” Louis says with a smile in his voice.

“Oh sure, people are less critical now.”

“I’m sorry you went through that, love.”

Harry smiles.

“It’s okay, I’m okay now. The media and fans don’t have much to talk about me these days. And most of my fans are incredible”

“That’s true.”

“What about you?”

“Mmh? Oh, when I came out?”

“I know it might be different in the film industry.”

“Oh no, honestly it’s the same shit.” They both laugh. “I don’t know, I mean, at home I came out as a teenager, I had a girlfriend and then a boyfriend. No one made a fuss about it, there was never prejudice in my family, maybe just my nan but shes okay with that now, also my friends.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I don’t think I had problems at home either, my friends were fine with it, and my mom and sister too. My stepdad struggled a bit, but a few days later he told me he loved me and always would.”

“That’s wonderful, love.”

“What about your work?” Harry gets up from the carpet, his back aching, and goes upstairs to his room, listening to Louis meanwhile.

“People don’t pay too much attention to that, at least not to me. I did go public with a guy once, he was a casting director, but there wasn’t any conflict.” Harry feels a pang of jealousy but doesn’t say anything. “And then I dated a woman, we were together many years, but nobody made a big deal about it.”

“And now?” Harry feels his stomach flutter as he asks the question, and it intensifies when he hears Louis’s soft laugh on the other end of the line.

“Well, nobody talks about me unless I have a job coming up.”

Harry exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Louis?”

“Yes, love?” A loud noise startles them, and then Harry hears other voices on the line, insistent chatter, and Louis moving the phone away. “Sorry, love, I need to go get dinner for these kids.”

Harry pouts, though Louis can’t see him.

“Okay.”

“I’ll text you later, alright?”

“Okay. Bye.”

They hang up, and Harry lies down more comfortably in his bed. He knows he’ll fall asleep any minute, but he feels a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. On the one hand, he felt relieved to have told Louis something so important in his life, a before and after in his career. Louis had listened patiently, and the message he sent a few minutes after hanging up made butterflies stir in his stomach.

Louis: Just so you know, I’m VERY proud of you, Harry, you handled everything so well, and I’m glad you’re free today. Thank you for telling me.

Harry replied to Louis with a series of heart emojis and a smiley face.

He closed his eyes after placing his phone on the nightstand and sighed. There was still that other side of his conscience that terrified him about how serious things were getting with Louis.

That night he fell asleep and didn’t dream of anything.

Chapter 5: five

Harry goes to Sarah and Mitch’s party on Friday. He feels happy and peaceful, and if he gets a little too excited talking to Sarah about Louis, no one can judge him.

“Harry!” Mitch greets him as soon as he walks in.

There aren’t many people at the entrance, the rest are scattered around the house, soft music is playing, and there’s a drinks bar.

“Hey, mate.” He hugs Mitch and follows him into the kitchen.

Sarah lights up when she sees him and pushes her way through the crowd to hug him.

“Harreeeh,” she sings into his ear.

“Hi, love.”

“I’m so glad you came, you have to tell me everything about your new boyfriend.”

“Sarah!” he says, scandalized, though the smile on his face betrays him. “He’s not my boyfriend yet.”

“Yet?” Mitch nudges him.

Harry’s cheeks turn pink.

“I don’t know…” His body feels hot and he can’t stop smiling.

“Shit, Harry Styles, you really like him,” Sarah doesn’t even ask, and her grin makes it clear she already knows.

“I didn’t come here to talk about Louis,” he lies shamelessly.

Mitch and Sarah burst out laughing.

“Come on, love, a drink and then you’ll tell me everything,” Sarah says.

Together they head to the bar and watch Mitch sit down in the living room with his guitar.

Harry and Sarah share a drink while they listen and watch Mitch perform one of his songs. Sarah looks at him with so much love, her eyes shining and a smile Harry knows is meant only for Mitch.

Just then, he gets a message from Louis, and he can’t help but blush.

Louis: Hope your party’s amazing, love. I miss you already. We’ve been walking all day in the woods.

Sarah leans in to peek at his phone and pinches Harry’s cheeks.

“Look at you, all in love with your boyfriend,” she teases.

“Stop, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yet,” Sarah says with a wink.

Harry smiles so wide his dimples show.

Mitch finishes his song, and almost everyone in the house (those who aren’t too drunk) clap and cheer.

Mitch walks over to them and plants a loud kiss on Sarah’s cheek. She hands him a glass of whiskey, and then both of them turn to Harry expectantly.

“Well?” Mitch asks.

“Well what?” Harry feigns ignorance.

“Come on darling, don’t get all shy now,” Sarah says.

Harry smiles until his cheeks hurt and lowers his voice. Probably no one else can hear them, but he doesn’t want to take the risk.

“His name’s Louis,” Harry begins.

“Louis?”

“Yeah, he’s not French though, he’s from Doncaster. And he’s perfect.” Sarah giggles a little. “He’s gorgeous, like ridiculously fit, and he’s got this exquisite sense of humor. Plus he’s such a gentleman and so thoughtful. And God, he’s a fucking silver fox.”

“Wait, wait,” Mitch interrupts. Sarah raises her brows too.

“I know what you’re about to say, but he’s not old, he just has some gray hair.” Harry laughs, but his friends stay serious. “I promise, he’s only two years older than me.”

Sarah looks at Mitch, and Mitch looks back at her with narrowed eyes. Harry tenses instantly—Louis hasn’t even met them and they’re already judging him. He opens his mouth to defend him, but Mitch speaks first.

“Louis Tomlinson?” Not the question he was expecting.

“What?”

“Are you dating Louis Tomlinson? The director?”

Well… what?

“What?”

“Harry…” Sarah sighs.

“Well, he is a director, but his last name isn’t Tomlinson.” Harry would know. Louis told him it was Deaking. Louis Deaking.

“Deaking?” Mitch frowns, and so does Sarah.

“Yeah, Louis Deaking.”

“Wait, but you said he’s from Doncaster.”

“So?”

“Harry.”

“What?” Harry says, annoyed. Because what the hell is going on?

“He’s Louis Tomlinson.” Harry opens his mouth to deny it again, but Sarah lifts her hand. “I know, he told you Deaking. But there’s only one director from Doncaster living in London, and that’s Louis Tomlinson.”

“W-what? Wait, you know him?”

“H, he’s the director Sarah and I wanted to introduce you to.”

Wait—what?

“Wait, what?” Harry blurts.

“Yes darling, remember we told you we knew this director? That was him.”

“Louis?”

“Yes, we even invited him tonight, but he said he had a family thing.”

“Camping,” Harry mutters.

“Camping?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, with his brothers.” Sarah hums, and a smile spreads across Mitch’s face.

“Well, we didn’t do it, but at least fate brought you two together.”

Harry tries to smile, but something feels off.

“Why didn’t Louis tell me he knew you?”

Mitch and Sarah exchange a look.

“Well, not like friends-friends.”

“What?”

“Ah, right. Louis is more like a friend of a friend. He used to come to parties because he was dating an actress who came here a lot.”

“What? You knew his ex?”

“Not really. I just know she was in some really popular teen movie, but I never watched it,” Sarah says.

“What movie?”

“Something like A Home Away… maybe?” Mitch answers.

Harry gasps before he can stop himself.

He’s seen that movie hundreds of times. Loves it. A silly teen romance.

“I know that movie.”

“Of course you do, H,” Sarah says sweetly.

“I had no idea she and Louis—”

“Relax, mate, they’re not together anymore,” Mitch says. “Now it’s you and him.”

Harry feels a strange twist in his stomach.

“You didn’t Google him?” Sarah asks.

“N-no.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, Mitch,” Harry says impatiently. “We made a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yeah, that we wouldn’t look each other up. We’d learn about each other little by little.”

“Wow, that’s sweet,” Sarah says, smiling.

“It’s good,” Mitch adds.

Harry tries not to dwell on the fact that Louis never told him he knew his friends, or that he’s actually Tomlinson, not Deaking. Even if they weren’t close, Louis and his ex clearly came here often. He doesn’t want to feel like Louis lied to him, but he can’t ignore the heaviness in his stomach.

Sarah seems to notice the tension and drapes an arm over his shoulders, stroking his cheek.

“It’s okay, love, it’s nothing.” Harry tries to smile.

“Did your deal with Louis include social media?” Mitch asks.

“What?”

“You know, his Instagram and Twitter.”

“I—I guess…” They hadn’t talked about it, but Harry assumed it was part of the deal, since his accounts are probably run by managers anyway.

“Don’t you want to take a peek?” Mitch suggests.

“Why would he do that?” Sarah cuts in.

“At least you’d know when he broke up with the actress. Maybe it was ages ago.”

“Is that important?” Sarah asks.

“For Harry.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, so maybe you’ll feel more at ease.”

“I’m not uneasy.” Lie.

“Well, we told you who his girlfriend was and you went pale.”

“Mitch,” Sarah scolds.

“N-no, it’s not that… I knew he had a girlfriend. He told me. He also told me he doesn’t use social media himself.”

“Besides, Harry wants to learn about Louis the old-school way,” Sarah says. “By asking him.”

“Fair enough, but we’re not in that deal, so maybe we’ll snoop later.” Harry lets out a bitter laugh at Mitch’s comment, though his hands itch now with the urge to search his name on Instagram.

“Why do you think Louis didn’t tell me he knew you? Or that his real name’s Tomlinson?” He can’t help the lump forming in his throat as he says it.

“Maybe he just didn’t want you Googling him. You know better than anyone how the media can be with artists,” Sarah says lightly. “And maybe he didn’t mention us because he doesn’t even remember us.”

“How could he not remember? Besides, you said he told you about the camping trip.”

“Not directly.”

“What does that mean?”

“A friend of a friend, remember?” Mitch explains. He points at a woman smoking from a finger-shaped pipe. “That’s Diana, she’s Louis’s friend. She brings other friends too sometimes.”

“And we were going to introduce you to Louis, so she was the one who was going to bring him tonight. But then Louis canceled, and she told us,” Sarah adds.

Harry nods, only half convinced.

A message buzzes in his pocket.

Louis: Guess who won an unfair water gun fight?

Louis: *attached image*

Harry feels heat rise to his cheeks, and instantly the heaviness and the knot in his throat vanish.

“Look at that, your man just sent you a nude selfie,” Sarah jokes.

Harry chuckles under his breath, and Mitch leans against his side trying to peek at his phone.

“Open it,” Mitch says.

“Mitch, do you want to see a nude selfie of Harry’s boyfriend?” his girlfriend asks, eyebrows raised.

Mitch snorts.

“I want to see if H has good taste.”

“But you’ve already met him,” Harry says, amused. Sarah laughs beside him.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen him in years.”

“You’re such a liar,” Sarah accuses.

“Stoooop,” Harry says through laughter.

“Open it. Let’s see your silver fox.”

Harry doesn’t argue, mostly because he’s dying to see the picture Louis sent (the first one he’s received—thank God), and also because it feels good to show off someone like Louis.

He opens the photo, and an image of Louis soaked through his shirt appears. His hair is damp, the shot only from the waist up, but the shirt clings deliciously to his torso. His eyes are glassy, and a pout—one that should not be that sexy—sits on his lips.

*insert moan here*

“Shit” Harry can’t help blurting out.

Sarah blushes too, and even Mitch seems to try to fight back a flush. The three of them stare, entranced by the ridiculously sexy silver fox on the screen, until the crash of a glass breaking a few feet away startles them.

“Damn it, Ryan, I told you not to break anything this time!” Mitch yells at a boy staring guiltily at the shards on the floor.

Sarah laughs and watches her boyfriend head to the kitchen for a broom and dustpan.

“Well, my man might want something with your man,” she teases with a wink. Harry bursts into laughter.

“Can’t blame him,” he says between laughs.

“Of course not.”

They both laugh.

—

Harry gets home the next day. He’d had a couple more drinks the night before while confessing to Sarah why he wanted to have Louis’s babies.

Sarah had decided he was way too tipsy to drive, so they tucked him into the guest room to sleep it off.

He’s been refusing to look at Louis’s messages, since the moment he woke up he realized that, drunk, he’d replied to Louis’s photo with a: “God you’re so sexy silver fox, let me have your babies.” So after blushing furiously and seeing from his notifications that Louis had sent twelve more messages, he decided not to humiliate himself further and left them unopened.

He scolded himself several times while driving home, his head aching and embarrassment burning in his veins.

A thirteenth message arrived just as he stepped through his front door.

He didn’t open that one either.

He knew he was being childish. And he knew Louis was probably saying in his texts that it was no big deal. But Harry couldn’t handle the mortification.

Who the hell tells someone they want to have their babies? God, they weren’t even officially together yet.

Harry sleeps the rest of the morning and wakes up when a call comes in at six in the evening.

LOUIS

His caller ID says Louis.

He immediately hangs up and then notices six missed calls from him as well. He considers ignoring it again out of pure embarrassment, but then the rational part of his brain kicks in. What if something happened to Louis? What if he’d been arrested? What if someone was chasing him?

He calls him back almost instantly.

Louis answers on the second ring.

“Well hello, Harold,” Louis says, and Harry hears the teasing lilt in his voice.

“Are you in jail?” Harry blurts out.

“What? No, why would I be in jail?” Louis replies, amused.

“Are you being chased?”

“No, no one’s chasing me, Harry,” Louis says with a chuckle.

“Well then this call is over,” Harry snaps. Louis bursts into a laugh that makes Harry’s heart race.

“Wait—”

“No, I’m hanging up now,” Harry insists. He moves to take the phone from his ear, but Louis shouts.

“HARRY STYLES, IF YOU HANG UP I’LL KEEP CALLING ALL DAY, I HAVE UNLIMITED DATA!”

Harry groans miserably.

“Fine,” he growls.

“all right love,” Louis says, and Harry can hear the smile in his voice. “So, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been ignoring me?”

Harry presses a pillow to his face. This could not get worse.

“Come on, Harry, if you keep ignoring me I won’t be able to give you babies,” Louis teases.

Harry gasps, ripping the pillow from his face.

“LOUIS.”

“HARRY.”

“Shut up. Don’t mention that. Ever. Again,” Harry stresses each word.

It doesn’t seem to faze Louis, because Harry hears him laughing. He wants to be mad, but all he can do is blush and try (unsuccessfully) to hide his smile.

“Come on, love, that was the sweetest and boldest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Louuuuiiiiis,” Harry whines.

“The best part was you calling me silver fox. I didn’t know you had a fetish for my age-gray hair.”

Harry wants to die.

“Stop,” he pleads, eyes closed.

“No, no—the best part was the babies thing. Definitely the best part.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Louis laughs again.

“Alright, love, I won’t say anything more about it,” Louis replies between chuckles.

“Good,” Harry says with relief.

“Actually, I called to tell you I’ll be back tomorrow night. The kids wanted to stay an extra day, and I’ll take them back to Donny myself.”

“Oh.” Harry sits up in bed, readying himself to shower.

“I thought maybe we could have our date tomorrow night,” Louis suggests.

Harry feels goosebumps rise on his skin, heat climbing his neck and cheeks.

“You still want to date me?” he blurts out before he can stop himself. Louis laughs loudly again.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“B-because of what I said?”

“About me knocking you up?”

Harry groans miserably again and hangs up.

Immediately he receives a flood of angry emojis. Then: “Tomorrow I’ll see you at my place at seven, I’ll send the address.”

This time Harry can’t stop the smile spreading across his face. Only then does he realize he hasn’t read Louis’s earlier messages.

The first three are emojis: surprise, then a wink, then a heart. After that come texts.

Louis: wow, first of all, hi there, love.

Louis: I’m really flattered you think that about my photo.

Louis: Silver fox, huh? Didn’t know you had a kink for that.

Louis: Good to know :)

Louis: Not gonna lie, the babies comment kind of turned me on a little.

Louis: Which wasn’t great, since I’m with my brothers.

Louis: You’re a pervert, Harold.

Louis: I like it though.

Louis: Let me get back to the city and we can work it out ;)

Louis: Don’t ignore me. First you turn me on and then you ignore me, that’s just cruel, Harold.

There’s a gap of hours before the last two messages. Harry laughs as he reads them.

God, he’s so screwed.

The final text is Louis’s address, and Harry bursts out laughing when he sees it.

Louis: (Silver fox’s address)

Harry replies with a middle finger emoji and puts his phone down.

In the shower, he can’t stop thinking about Louis’s messages. “We can work it out” “Turned me on a little”

Harry shivers as the words run through him. He hadn’t thought much about Louis liking that kind of innuendo, but of course his perfect man was even more perfect.

He feels himself harden within seconds.

Jesus Christ, it had been so long since he’d gotten hard just from thinking about a guy he was dating. He can’t help it—it’s pure biology.

A second later his hand wraps around his cock, eyes shutting tight.

He imagines Louis as he strokes himself—that fucking photo, his torso outlined by the soaked, clinging shirt, the wetness dripping down his neck and face, those glassy eyes that he’d surely have in other situations too. God, would Louis look like that after a blowjob? And those lips—God, Harry wanted to lick that pout.

His hand speeds up, and Harry pants against the shower wall. He pictures Louis sprawled on his bed, legs over Harry’s shoulders while he swallows him whole.

He imagines Louis’s cock and moans.

Harry comes instantly, a guttural sound ripping from deep in his chest.

Chapter 6: six

Harry thinks about Louis the entire next day, longing for the time of their date. He’s still embarrassed about his words, but how could he be embarrassed about something like that when he literally got himself off thinking about that photo of Louis?

Part of him also keeps replaying his conversation with Sarah and Mitch, thinking about Louis’s girlfriend. Thinking about the movie. Thinking, just endlessly thinking about everything.

He opens Instagram and sees that his team uploaded a story compiling several photos from the tour.

He scrolls through some friends’ stories too, liking a couple of posts on his feed—posts that will surely end up on some update account soon. But he doesn’t give it much importance.

Finally, his finger hovers over the search bar.

Louis Tomlinson.

He barely has to type “Louis” before Louis’s profile appears. He bites his lip and feels a bead of sweat trickle down his body.

He can’t do it.

He swallows down the saliva that had gathered in his mouth without him realizing.

He can’t do it.

They made a deal. He remembers.

He studies Louis’s profile picture closely, his fingers itching to tap on his beautiful face.

It’s a black-and-white photo—Louis in a black suit and a bow at his neck, smiling in that way that makes Harry’s knees weak.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, shutting the app.

He goes for a run to clear his mind, but he can’t stop turning it over and over in his head. He doesn’t know why it matters so much, why he can’t stop imagining Louis with the actress. And he definitely doesn’t know why it bothers him this badly.

When he gets home, he eats a little and jumps in the shower. He dresses himself up as best he can, butterflies swirling in his stomach like some lovesick teenager. It’s their fifth date, and then just one more before the big question.

Ask you to be mine. The phrase loops through his mind as he sprays on cologne, slides rings onto his fingers, and clasps a string of pearls around his neck.

He doesn’t expect it to happen exactly that way—maybe Louis was joking. Maybe they won’t even make it to the next date. Maybe Louis will decide he’s had enough. Though maybe Harry will at least get to sleep with him.

But God, he wants so badly to be his boyfriend.

At six-thirty, Harry starts his car. This time, he decides, he’ll be the one bringing Louis flowers. They had talked about it before, so he knows Louis likes daffodils.

He runs into the florist shop just as the woman is flipping the sign to “closed.”

“Wait!” Harry shouts, crossing the street.

“Sorry, love, I’m closing,” the woman says without looking up.

“Please, I just need a bouquet of daffodils. I promise I’ll be quick.” She finally lifts her eyes at his pleading tone—and they go wide.

“You’re Harry Styles!” she exclaims, pointing at him. A wide, wrinkled smile spreads across her face.

Harry blushes and smiles back.

“Oh, come in, love!” she says warmly. “My granddaughters adore you—and your music too.”

Harry chuckles as he follows her inside.

“That makes me so happy to hear,” he says.

“They’re crazy about you. They say you’re very handsome.” She winks dramatically, making Harry laugh. “But they know you like men.”

She shrugs with a smile, and Harry grins back.

“Yes, sorry.” He doesn’t know why he apologizes, but she waves her hand.

“Oh no, darling, don’t apologize. Be who you are.” He starts to reply, but she continues, “So... you’re looking for daffodils.”

Harry hums, though it wasn’t a question.

They walk to a shelf where he spots them immediately.

“They’re for a man, aren’t they?” she asks as Harry picks out the prettiest bouquet and pulls out his wallet.

He doesn’t know if he should say it. It isn’t like him to reveal things like this. Private things.

Maybe it’s the excitement, or the pride of wanting to show off… Louis. So he smiles and nods.

“That’ll be seven pounds, love.” Harry pays and thanks her. “Would you mind taking a photo with me, so I can show my granddaughters?”

Harry checks the time on his phone, then nods.

They snap a selfie, and she thanks him over and over while walking him to the door.

Once in his car, Harry exhales and sets the daffodils on the passenger seat.

He arrives at the address Louis gave him right at seven. Taking a deep breath, he steps out of the car.

He knocks, and the door opens seconds later, revealing a very elegant Louis. He’s wearing a crisp white button-up shirt fastened to the collar, a little bow tie (like in his profile picture, Harry notes) at his neck, black ripped jeans, and Vans.

“Well, hello,” Louis greets with a smile. “Someone’s punctual.”

Harry chuckles, trying to contain the overwhelming urge to kiss him right there.

“You look gorgeous. Are those for me?” Louis asks, pointing at the bouquet in Harry’s hand.

“They’re for you. Thought it was time for a change.”

“Well, I love them. Come here, love.” Louis steps closer, and they share a kiss at his doorway.

Harry could faint.

Louis leads him into the living room. His house is large and elegant, but the walls are decorated with framed posters—what Harry guesses are movies Louis has directed, signed in the corner with “LT.”

LT.

Louis Tomlinson.

Harry realizes he still hasn’t asked him about it.

They keep walking until Louis brings him outside to the backyard.

Harry forgets to breathe. His heart might just burst from his chest at the sight of what Louis has prepared.

A huge white tent with a blanket and candles all around. White wine and a plate that seems to hold only chocolates.

Harry’s eyes sting. No one has ever done something like this for him.

“Lou…”

“I know you said you wanted a change, love, but I was already prepared.” Louis hands him an enormous bouquet of red roses.

Harry stares at the roses in his hands, his heart melting. He smiles and leans in to kiss Louis on the lips.

The kiss feels different this time—charged with want and heat, an overwhelming passion binding them together. Harry loops his arms around Louis’s neck, Louis’s hands tightening around his waist.

Harry shivers, and when he grips Louis’s hair tight, Louis gasps, giving Harry the perfect chance to slide his tongue into his mouth. Their tongues tangle, desperate, delicious, and Harry has never been kissed like this.

“All right,” Louis finally pulls back, though his hands stay on Harry’s waist, their foreheads still touching. “We have to stop, or there won’t be time for what I’ve planned tonight.”

Harry smirks mischievously.

“I wouldn’t mind.” He steals another kiss, and Louis laughs, blushing as he pulls away again.

“I know you wouldn’t, love. But I’ve got big plans.”

“You know what else is big?” Harry blurts out before he can stop himself.

Louis throws his head back, laughing, and grabs Harry’s hand, leading him to sit on the blanket spread across the grass.

“You’re cheeky, Harold,” he says, still laughing.

“Better you find out now.”

“Stop, we have to eat first.”

“Eat? There’s only chocolates and wine here, Louis,” Harry pouts.

“We’ll need the sugar for tonight.” Louis winks exaggeratedly, making Harry giggle.

“And I’m the cheeky one?”

“You are” Louis teases, and Harry can’t help smiling when Louis pulls out plates of perfectly prepared salmon and rice.

“You cooked?”

“Oh, love, I wish,” Louis jokes. “My sister helped.”

“Your sister?” Harry’s surprise makes Louis glance at him.

“Yeah, Lottie. Don’t worry, she’s not the fan, love.”

“Oh, she’s not one of the twins?”

“Nope.” Louis pops the “p.” “She’s the oldest after me.”

“So… you told her? About me?” A shy smile creeps across Harry’s lips, and Louis fights his own grin, a blush blooming on his cheeks.

“Yes. I… wanted to make tonight special. And since I can’t cook, I wanted it to be your favorite dish.” Harry’s cheeks burn, his eyes stinging again. “And I thought it was time she knew.”

Louis seems so small, so shy, confessing how he told his sister he was seeing Harry.

“Really?”

“Really.” They smile at each other, both blushing. God, Harry wants to kiss him again.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says.

“Just one,” Louis teases, holding up a finger.

Harry wants to laugh, but instead he lunges forward and kisses him.

----

They spend an hour talking about Louis’ camping trip; Harry can’t help but burst out laughing at the image of Louis chasing after his brothers for spraying him with water guns. Louis also tells him about a new script that landed on his desk that week.

“Will you do it?” Harry asks with a bite of chocolate.

Louis chuckles softly and runs his thumb and index finger along the corner of his mouth. Harry blushes when he notices the crumbs falling from Louis’ fingers.

“Yes, I think it’s a strong project.”

“I’d love to see your work,” he says sincerely.

“I have some behind-the-scenes clips from a few of my films, we could watch them another day,” Louis replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

“From Home Away?” Harry blurts out suddenly, catching them both off guard.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Harry wasn’t supposed to say that. Now Louis can know that he knows his professional name. Shit. Fuck.

Louis looks at him with wide eyes and a grimace of dismay on his lips.

Harry wants to die.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t know what. Nothing solid comes out and Louis is the one who shakes his head and clears his throat.

“So you know.”

“Y-yes,” Harry replies, though it wasn’t a question.

Louis sighs heavily. Harry feels a lump in his throat.

“Harry…” Louis begins, but Harry jumps in and interrupts him.

“Wait… Before you say anything let me tell you” Louis hesitates, but eventually nods. “I didn’t Google you or look you up on social media, I didn’t break our deal. I… my best friends Mitch and Sarah, I know you know them through a friend, they actually wanted to introduce me to you before we met, but… I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was you. So I told my friend Sarah about you, about how much I like you” Louis tries to hide a smile. “And she figured out I was talking about you, except I had told them your name was Louis Deaking, not Tomlinson. And they told me it was you and that your director’s name was Tomlinson…”

He stops and lets out the air that had built up during his long explanation. Harry waits anxiously for Louis to say something.

“Is that all?” Louis looks at him with wide eyes. Harry’s heart tightens.

“Y-yes… that’s all.”

“Harry…” Louis says in a hoarse voice. His brows are furrowed and there’s still a thin line on his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asks quietly.

Louis takes his time to answer. It’s not fair that he looks so attractive while trying to sort his thoughts. Harry feels that familiar lump in his throat. He doesn’t know why Louis tensed up like that, or why it’s so important for both of them.

“Listen, Harry, I—”

“It’s okay, Lou,” he interrupts urgently, wanting to ease the heaviness of the moment. “It’s just a name, I… I know Louis, I want to keep learning things about Louis. It doesn’t matter if it’s Deaking or Tomlinson.” He gives Louis a smile, and Louis mirrors it.

“uff, okay. I… I want to tell you so much more, Harry…”

“That’s okay, me too.”

“Well, I can answer your question. I didn’t tell you I knew your friends because it would’ve sounded strange. You know our first meeting wasn’t exactly friendly.” He winks at Harry, making him smile wide enough for his dimples to show. “And if I’d immediately said, ‘oh by the way, your friends wanted to set us up…’”

Harry gasps.

“Louis, you knew that?” Louis laughs.

“I knew, love.” Harry shakes his head, his eyes accusing, his arms crossed over his chest. “But hey, I did all of this here, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to go out with me just because your friends suggested it.”

“Mmm, I’ll pretend I believe you.”

“It’s just the truth, darling.”

“What about the Tomlinson thing?”

“Well… It’s not common for the people I get involved with to respect the ‘don’t Google me or this won’t work’ rule.” Louis explains. Harry tries not to flinch at the word “involved,” as if this were nothing more to Louis, as if it weren’t serious. As if it didn’t mean as much to him as it does to Harry.

“Oh,” he answers, trying to keep his voice from sounding odd. Of course Louis notices.

“Which brings me to tonight’s next plan.” He stands and holds out his hand for Harry to take and stand beside him.

Harry feels his heart race; he tries not to be embarrassed by his sweaty hands in Louis’, but the smile they share is too distracting.

“You may not know this, but I’ve directed a couple of romance films—” Harry holds his breath. “I can’t say it’s my favorite genre, and I can’t say I helped with the scripts of those. But I can tell you that I hate clichés.”

Harry almost gasps when he sees Louis pull a card from the back pocket of his jeans. He doesn’t know what it says, doesn’t know what it holds, but Louis’ smile is everything.

“I really like you, Harry, I’m too interested in you, and I think you’re wonderful.”

“Lou” he says in a broken voice.

“Shh, love, I’m trying to court you here.” Harry could cry. “I know I said it’d be on the sixth date, but I’m desperate.” Louis laughs under his breath. “Be my boyfriend, please?”

Something explodes in Harry’s mind. A million butterflies flutter in his stomach, his heart races so fast he fears it might burst out of his chest. He feels so much, too much.

Louis is sweating too, Harry can tell by his hands. He looks shy, with flushed cheeks and a brilliant smile.

“Of course I will,” Harry finally answers, with a smile so wide it threatens to split his face.

They move at the same time and their lips meet in a kiss full of emotion. Harry threads his fingers through Louis’ hair at the nape of his neck, tugging until Louis moans into his mouth. It ignites something in Harry, and he presses as close as possible to him. Louis squeezes his hips and one hand slips to his lower back.

When Harry realizes, he pulls back a little. Louis chases his mouth, trying to kiss again. Harry laughs at his impatience.

“Wait, wait.”

“No waiting, Harold, it’s kissing time,” Louis says, kissing him again.

Harry laughs against his mouth and pulls back once more, ignoring Louis’ whine.

“Wait.”

“What is it?” His lips are swollen, his eyes bright, and it distracts Harry a little.

“What does your note say?” he asks breathlessly.

“Oh.” A bubbly laugh escapes Louis as he hands him the note.

Your Silver Fox would love to make you babies.

Harry’s face burns. Louis laughs, squeezing his waist.

“I hate you so much,” he says, but the way he pounces on him and kisses him contradicts him immediately.

Louis laughs against his lips but gasps when Harry bites at them in reprimand.

Harry realizes how much Louis likes being kissed this way: a bit rough, with a soft tongue to soothe the edge. He also loves the sounds Louis makes when he tugs his hair.

The make-out session grows wetter the longer it lasts. Louis’ wandering hands grip him tight, dangerously close to his ass, and Harry moans in anticipation. Louis seems emboldened, grabbing him quickly and squeezing.

Harry can’t help grinding against him. Louis gasps and pulls back for breath, but Harry stays desperate, still rutting against him and kissing his neck while waiting for the blue-eyed man to recover.

Louis pushes them down with a quick move and climbs on top of Harry.

He kisses him with intention, unable to help himself, biting and sucking at his lips. And then Harry feels it—Louis’ hardness. He can’t help sliding a hand down Louis’ abdomen and cupping him over his jeans. Louis nearly collapses on him.

“Shit, love, we won’t make it to the good part if you do that now.”

Harry laughs, lips swollen and wet.

“Is it your age?” he teases boldly.

“Oi, bastard, don’t think I forgot you like older men, eh, Mr. Silver Fox?”

“Mmm, I really do love your hair,” Harry answers honestly, running his ringed fingers along Louis’ hair, where the grays are more prominent.

Harry turns his head to kiss his palm tenderly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” Louis admits shyly.

Harry melts.

“That’s okay, Lou. I haven’t in a long time either, to be honest.”

“We can savor the moment and go slow, love.” The intensity in his tone overwhelms Harry so much he has to joke.

“Didn’t you say you hated clichés?”

Louis smiles.

“How about I knock you up and fill you with my babies?” he jokes. But Harry can’t (won’t) hold back the moan that slips from his lips. He feels himself getting even harder, until it hurts. “Shit, darling, you really like that.”

“Mmm.” Harry hums, eyes closed.

Louis smiles and starts undressing Harry. His fingers trail slowly over every inch of skin, memorizing each freckle, each scar, each tiny mark. Harry lets himself be explored with vehemence. He feels overwhelmed in the best sense of the word.

He thinks of a song. He thinks of a moment. Goosebumps rise when Louis strokes his entrance. They lie naked in Louis’ backyard, the candle flames long extinguished, darkness surrounding them. But Harry has never felt so lucky.

He moans into Louis’ ear when he finally pushes inside. He keeps his eyes shut, wanting to feel it all with every other sense. Louis whispers tender obscenities into his ear; it isn’t some meaningless quick fuck—it’s everything Louis says: “you feel so good,” “you smell so good,” “I adore you, love.” It’s the thrill and passion coursing through every vein.

Harry runs his hands down Louis’ back and sighs at the smoothness of his skin. He’s never felt this before. His skin tingles, his face burns, and he’s desperate to stay in this moment forever.

They fall over the edge together, with a brutal moan torn from deep in their throats.

Louis collapses beside him, saying his arms hurt from holding himself up. He says it with his hair sticking up in every direction, eyes glassy, lips red and bitten, a gorgeous smile on his face—and Harry has to kiss him.

“My face hurts,” Harry says when they part. Louis strokes his cheeks gently where his beard left exquisite scrapes.

“I’m sorry, baby” he says with an apologetic smile.

Harry shakes his head and kisses his lips again.

“I like it.”

“I like you,” Louis says.

And God, Harry feels good. He feels delighted. He feels blessed.

Chapter 7: seven

Harry wakes up with a significantly pleasant ache in his ass and a bright smile.

He turns in Louis’s arms, who is holding him from behind, and watches him still deeply asleep. Long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the trimmed beard that had left Harry’s face a mess the night before, his bare chest bathed in the morning light.

Harry feels happy. He feels soft.

He runs his fingers over Louis’s face, the tenderness nothing like the desperate excitement of the previous night. He presses his closed mouth to Louis’s chin and gives him a kiss, then one on his forehead, and one on his jaw. It’s only when he kisses his lips that Louis opens his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Mmmm good morning, darling.” Louis’s voice sounds so hoarse that Harry has to moan. Louis chuckles.

“morning,” he answers with a shy smile.

“Did you sleep well, love?”

“Better than ever.” The corners of Louis’s eyes crinkle. “How did you sleep?”

“A bit shit, if I’m honest,” Louis answers, amused.

“Well, thanks, love.”

Louis laughs softly and rubs his eyes.

“Not because of you baby, you were the good part,” he explains, “but sleeping on the floor doesn’t do my back any favors.”

“Oh, age talking again,” Harry rolls his eyes with a smile.

“You seemed to enjoy my age quite a bit yesterday.” He wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously, and Harry bursts out laughing.

“Let’s take a shower,” Harry suggests, standing up. Completely naked, he offers his hand to the blue-eyed man, who takes it gladly.

He complains as Harry pulls him toward the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he stops complaining when Harry kneels and takes his entire cock into his mouth.

They spend the day at Louis’s place, and Harry has never felt happier.

------

Two days after their fifth date, Louis tells Harry that now that they’re properly together, they can stop calling their outings “dates.” Harry agrees, though probably only because while Louis explains this, he’s rubbing Harry through his red running shorts, behind a tree.

------

Harry and Louis start seeing each other almost every day, usually at Louis’s house unless there’s an extra plan like going to the cinema, a picnic in the park, an art exhibition, or a museum visit. Harry cooks for Louis, and little by little, Louis makes space for him in his home.

It feels satisfyingly domestic. He enjoys every day he spends with Louis.

A couple of weeks later, Louis begins filming his new movie. He spends a lot of time on set and sends Harry plenty of photos.

Harry takes advantage of Louis being busy too, going to the studio with Sarah and starting to write his new album. He does a writing session once a week (usually on the day Louis has to film double scenes and stay late on set), and he and Sarah write and compose a lot.

----

In their fifth week together, Harry considers inviting Louis to his house. He’s in the bathtub, with a glass of wine in one hand and the phone pressed to his ear in the other.

Louis is on the other end, complaining about one of the actors he’s working with.

They haven’t seen each other in two days, and Harry feels needy.

“I swear, Harry, they don’t know how to respect the bloody bastard who gave them the job.” Louis’s voice sounds deeper over the phone, and when he’s angry it only makes his gravelly tone even deeper.

Which does nothing to help Harry’s cock, already half-hard at that moment.

“Maybe you should show them who’s boss,” Harry says.

“And then they’d sue me for harassment,” Louis replies, completely missing Harry’s innuendo.

“You sound sexy when you’re pissed off,” Harry blurts.

“Oh—” Harry smiles when he hears movement on the other end. “Oh, you like hearing me complain about some idiot actor?”

“I like hearing you complain,” Harry answers instead.

“Where are you, darling?” Louis asks, his voice sweet and husky.

Harry bites back a moan.

“In the tub,” he answers with a gasp.

“Oh, baby, this will be good.”

Louis talks dirty to Harry for twenty minutes, giving him instructions on where to touch himself, until Harry finally comes in the bathtub.

---

Harry visits his mother that weekend and finally tells her about Louis.

“Oh, my baby, I’m so happy you’re happy.”

They spend three hours talking about Harry and Louis and the next two watching a romance movie.

-----

Harry attends an award show in France a few days later. He sends Louis photos from the dressing room, and they talk on the phone.

Harry returns home the next day with an award and an overwhelming desire to see his boyfriend.

When he gets home that night, he sees flowers at the front door with a note he instantly recognizes as Louis’s handwriting.

Welcome home, love x

Harry texts Louis, inviting him to dinner at his place the next day. Afterward, he places the flowers in a vase on the coffee table.

-----

The first time Louis comes over to his house, Harry feels like he’s losing his breath. He’s nervous, his skin prickling in anticipation. He’s more nervous than in any other situation in his entire life. He feels like a little boy about to show his mother his first drawing from school—but instead, he’s a thirty-one-year-old man showing his boyfriend the place he calls home.

It’s impossible not to feel overwhelmed and frustrated when he hears the doorbell. But all the pressure fades almost immediately when Louis walks in with another bouquet of flowers tied with a ribbon.

Harry tries not to cry the whole evening, but he can’t hold back tears when Louis tells him the story of the flowers.

“You’ll notice they’re all different. The truth is, I picked them up as I came here. I left a few hours earlier and took a long walk around this side, collecting different flowers.” Harry wants to ask why he’d do something like that, but Louis continues, looking him directly in the eyes. “I know your home—this place—is important to you. I know it’s hard for you to show me something so personal. That’s why I never pushed, why I took you to my house instead—because I wanted to share everything with you. I would’ve waited forever for this, Harry.”

Harry starts crying right then. Because he can’t understand how Louis figured it out, he can’t understand why Louis gave it the same importance he did, he can’t understand why he’d be so considerate, and he definitely can’t understand what he did to deserve Louis.

“I wanted to give you these flowers from different places, ones that took me a couple of hours to collect, as a symbol that I care. I care about you so much. And that you’d share with me something as important to you as your home—that’s the most incredible thing anyone’s ever done for me. Oh, darling, don’t cry.”

Harry throws himself at Louis, hugging him tight. Then he covers his face with kisses and feels him smiling through them.

-----

Harry decides to frame the flowers Louis gave him after they wilt a few days later.

He also decides to start inviting Louis to his house more often. Sometimes Louis comes over after a long day on set, and Harry makes them dinner.

Sometimes they go running together in the morning and come back to shower at Harry’s.

They keep going to Louis’s house too, spending as much time together as they can.

Louis takes Harry to Doncaster to meet his family. They all fall in love with Harry, as expected. A few days later, Harry takes Louis to meet his mother, sister, and niece. The same thing happens.

Harry feels whole and happy. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before.

The first time they say I love you is a few days after meeting each other’s families.

They’re lying in Harry’s bed, watching a suspense series. Half-asleep, Harry is dozing off on Louis’s chest, rising and falling with his slow breaths.

Louis’s hand strokes Harry’s hair, and he feels like he could stay there forever.

“Harry,” Louis says.

“Mmm.”

“I love you.” He says it just like that—so simple. As soft as a breath of fresh air, as delicate as the brush of his fingers on Harry’s skin. He says it like he’d been holding it back for a while and finally decided there was nothing to fear.

Harry feels the same.

“Lou, I love you too.”

-----

A week later, Harry goes back on a small charity tour. It’s in several European cities, and he already misses Louis.

He’s excited to be back on stage, excited to show some of his new songs to the audience, but more than anything, he’s excited to feel the euphoria of each concert.

He says goodbye to Louis after a morning of sex.

Chapter 8: eight

Everything starts like this: Harry has his first benefit show on Friday afternoon, he’s wearing his favorite outfit, his eyes sparkling with excitement, electricity of anticipation running through every inch of his body.

“It’s good to be back,” he says into the microphone. Cheers and fans’ cries echo all around him. It feels good, he feels bright and tender.

It’s halfway through the show when a sign catches his attention. He doesn’t even think twice before reading it.

He walks toward the piano on the other side of the stage, but his neck turns so sharply that it hurts.

It’s a huge banner with a blurry image of him and Louis. He knows it’s him, he recognizes the entrance of his house, Louis’s outfit, and the flowers in his hands.

His mind goes blank. In the distance he can hear the fans’ screams, and he catches Sarah’s and Mitch’s worried looks, but he can’t move. He’s so still he fears he’ll collapse at any moment.

His body feels heavy, his head aches, and his ears buzz. What is this? What’s happening? he thinks.

He can’t breathe, he just stares at the sign. The sound and video team seem to misinterpret his reaction and zoom in on the banner, projecting it onto the big screens.

Then the screams grow louder, deafening. Harry is going to die.

“Harry,” a voice says in his ear. Harry can’t respond. “Harry, love, come on, get down.”

He realizes it’s Sarah when he feels her hand on his back. His skin burns, the knot in his throat is unbearable.

They lead him backstage, but he can’t grasp what everyone is saying. He can see their lips moving, he can feel their eyes on him, but none of it makes sense.

And then everything goes black.

-----

Harry wakes up sweating, his throat dry. His head throbs and a tingling sensation spreads across the soles of his feet and hands.

He looks around, swallowing against the lump in his throat—he’s in a hotel room. The curtains are shut, the air conditioning hums. He clears his throat to ease the raspiness, but it’s useless.

He tries to get up, but steps on a pillow lying on the floor. That’s when he realizes he’s not alone. Sarah is sleeping deeply next to Mitch, a blanket draped over them and several pillows scattered around.

He feels the urge to cry. He doesn’t understand what happened. He doesn’t know what went wrong.

He grabs his phone from the nightstand. Dozens of missed calls and messages from his team, links and photos attached. He doesn’t look at them. Instead, he opens his chat with Louis.

There’s nothing new there, just the record of their last call from the afternoon before Harry’s show.

Frowning, he starts typing a message to ask how Louis is, but before he can send it, a notification drops down with a message from his sister, attaching a link.

Gemma: Harry, what the hell?

Gemma: *Link attached*

Harry clicks.

Chapter 9: nine

Harry is in the studio, he has been coming here for the past three weeks. The first thing he does after showering at home is head straight to the studio.

“Harry?” – Mitch calls him as he enters.

“Hi, Mitch” – he forces a smile.

“What are you doing here so early? Again.”

Harry rolls his eyes and lets out a grunt.

“It’s not that early” – he murmurs.

“Harry, it’s seven in the morning.”

“I had insomnia.”

“Harry…”

“I have another idea for the song” – he interrupts without looking at him.

“Harry–”

“I think this time it could be the one.”

“Mate, it’s been weeks” – his tone is so slow and soft that Harry immediately feels nauseous. The memories churn his stomach.

“I just want to record this shit, Mitch” – he replies curtly.

Mitch sighs but nods.

They do a couple of takes before Harry gets impatient.

“It’s not working.”

“We could slow the tempo.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s the lyrics, its not good.”

“Harry” – he says tiredly. “They are, you just need to sing them right.”

“No.” – he interrupts firmly. “Let’s rewrite it.”

He takes out his journal to tear out the last lyrics, but Mitch stands up.

“What are you doing?” – he asks, clearly angry.

“I have to go, Harry.”

“We’ve only been here an hour.”

“We’ve been here three hours, and it’s not working. You’re not in your right mind.”

“What the hell? Of course I am.”

“You’re not, and I can’t work like this.”

“Oh, you can’t work like this” – he mocks with a bitter laugh.

“Look, Harry” – Mitch says, looking him directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I know Sarah and I have said it every day these past weeks, and I truly regret all this has happened. I’m sorry about the shit with Louis, but if you don’t let him fix it–”

“Fix it? How the hell could him?”

“If you’d just let him explain.”

“He has a wife, Mitch!” – Harry suddenly yells. His throat itches and he feels moisture on his cheeks, which he wipes roughly.

“Oh, Harry…”

Harry stays still.

“Harry” – Mitch said.

“What is this?” – Harry could barely see through the tears streaming down his cheeks.

He was sitting on a hotel bed, surrounded by an incessant heaviness after opening the link his sister sent. An article from The Sun titled “Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson Hold Secret Romantic Relationship.”

The more he scrolled through the article, the more his insides hurt.

“It is said they have been hiding their romantic relationship for months…”

“A blatant infidelity.”

“Infidelity?” – Harry whispered, his breath shallow.

“The famous director of (A Victorian Night), Louis Tomlinson, was photographed with composer and singer Harry Styles outside the latter’s residence in Westminster, London, sharing a passionate kiss that would only bring trouble.”

Harry’s heart stops.

“As many know, Tomlinson is currently married to actress Jenna Miller…”

Married.

Currently.

Louis Tomlinson married.

“W-what the hell?” – Harry said out loud.

Sarah jumped up, startled by sleep, and climbed onto the bed next to Harry.

“Are you okay, love? What’s happening?”

Harry said nothing, still dazed, trying to breathe, trying to see through the tears.

“Oh, Harry” – Sarah whispered as she read what was on his phone.

Harry looks at them, breathing heavily, tears soaking his face. It only takes a few seconds to realize it.

“You already knew.” – It’s not a question.

“Harry…”

“You knew he was married and didn’t tell me.” – His voice cracks.

“Harry, we saw it in a photo on Instagram,” Mitch says.

“What?”

“It was him and his wife,” Sarah adds.

“What the hell? And you didn’t tell me?”

“We looked it up on Google, darling.”

“And?” – Harry feels his heart tightening little by little.

“No–”

“He didn’t look… good, H.” – Mitch says.

“Good?”

“Darling, Louis is clearly gay. All those shitty articles were obviously staged. They’re trying to trap him.”

“Trap him?” – Harry lets out a bitter laugh.

“Come on, H, you know how this works.”

“He’s married, Sarah! This isn’t some kind of- fucking closet situation!”

“How would you know?”

“Why the hell would he get married?”

“Ask him!”

“Piss off—I don’t want to see him again.”

“Harry…”

“No, fuck you. I won’t.”

“I just… I just want to write, Mitch” – he said, his voice trembling.

“Harry.”

“Let’s just do it, okay?”

“I’m sorry, H, I have to go.” – Mitch replied, gathering his things. Harry glared at him, but he was exhausted, so he said nothing else.

Mitch stopped at the door and looked at him.

“You’re still invited to Tyler’s birthday party.”

Harry was left speechless.

Shit.

Tyler, he had completely forgotten it was his birthday.

Shit.

He left as fast as he could, taking his keys and phone, heading to the nearest toy store. He grabbed everything he could carry and left.

He carried a skateboard under his arm, some blocks in one hand, and plush toys in the other. He walked slowly, but when he reached the park he quickened his pace, knowing what it meant.

He tried to ignore the furtive glances he received, but he couldn’t ignore his racing heart as he passed the place where he had met Louis. His eyes stung, but he refused to cry.

He got home and collapsed against the door.

Only then did he allow himself to cry.

He closed his eyes, sobbing.

He felt so heavy, so exhausted and overwhelmed. He felt like he was in a black hole that kept consuming everything that had once been sunlight in his life.

“Harry, let me explain” – Louis was in front of his dressing room, eyes red and swollen. His cheeks were wet, and his hands trembled.

Harry felt like he could die right there.

“You’re married.” – he blurted.

“H-Harry, I… let me explain, love, please.” – Louis sobbed. Harry shuddered all over, but he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t.

“Stay away from me, Louis” – Louis’s face twisted, and it hurt Harry to his soul, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t do it. “We’re done.”

He slammed the door in his face and sank against it, crying harder than ever before. He heard Louis calling him from the other side, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t face this.

Harry lay there against the door of his home for a while before gathering enough strength to get up and go to his room.

He stood at the entrance of his bedroom, holding back another wave of tears. He didn’t want to feel like this, didn’t want that enormous hole in his chest that wouldn’t let him breathe.

He missed Louis.

He missed him so much.

“Enough, Harry.” – he repeated to himself, as he had these past weeks.

He showered and put on cologne to go to Sarah and Mitch’s house, loaded Tyler’s gifts into his car, and started it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Louis, no matter how much time passed, no matter how many drinks he had, Louis was always on his mind. That fucking liar Louis.

“We should go inside” – Louis said between kisses.

“Don’t you want to make out more in my car?” – Harry asked with a teasing smile.

“I want to make out in your bed, without clothes” – Louis raised his eyebrows ridiculously, making Harry laugh.

Harry’s head hurt from crying so much.

He arrived at his friends’ house and wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath before going out with the gifts.

“Harry” – Sarah said as soon as she saw him.

“Hi, Sarah.”

Harry stood uncomfortably still in the doorway; he couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. They hadn’t seen each other in days, and they hadn’t spoken properly in weeks.

Harry opened and closed his mouth three times before Sarah’s gaze softened and she smiled at him.

“Come here, darling.” – She opened her arms for Harry, and he allowed himself to be embraced.

He didn’t want comfort, but he wanted it.

He needed to be told everything would be okay, even though he knew it wouldn’t.

Sarah led him inside, and together they celebrated Tyler’s birthday. Mitch hugged him and made room on the couch for him to play video games after Tyler fell asleep.

He felt like a small child with his parents, vulnerable and messy. But it felt good to be like that with his friends.

For the first time in weeks, he felt at peace.

Chapter 10: ten

LOUIS

Louis can’t sleep. He can’t do it; he’s been turning it over in his mind all day. There are no more tears to shed, his chest hurts, and his eyes burn.

Harry has blocked him everywhere, he even tried contacting him on Instagram, Twitter, and even damn Snapchat, but he blocked him there too.

He doesn’t answer his calls, and honestly, Louis doesn’t dare go to his house.

He looks at the clock: it’s four in the morning.

He stands up, grabs a hoodie and his keys, and drives to Doncaster.

He knocks on the door about five times before his mother appears in a robe, sleepy-faced, completely confused, but her expression softens when she sees Louis’s state.

“Darling.” – Louis feels the tears burning again.

“I ruined it, Mom.”

She hugs him and lets him in. Everything is silent; Louis knows his siblings and grandparents are still asleep. He tries not to sob out loud, but it’s difficult.

“Do you want some tea, love?” she asks.

“I want Harry,” he says like a little kid, feeling pathetic.

His mother hands him a cup of tea and runs her hand over his cheeks and forehead like she did when he was a child and feeling unwell. Louis wants to hide there and cry until it all calms down.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Harry knows about Jenna.”

“Oh, darling…”

“I wanted to tell him, Mom. I promised I would, but I couldn’t.”

“Louis…”

“I was so scared he would leave, I was scared of hurting him. I couldn’t tell him.”

“It wasn’t the ideal situation, son.”

“I know. I saw the articles they wrote about him. I saw everything they were saying about him.”

“I know, love. Your sisters showed me some videos from his recent shows this week.”

“It’s not fair.”

“It’s not. Did you try to explain?”

Louis laughs bitterly.

“Of course I did. I was watching a live stream of his concert when they focused on the sign on the screen. I could see his face crumbling, Mom—it was horrible.” – Tears have returned despite him trying to stop them. – “I went straight to Rome to find him, but when I arrived, his team told me they had taken him back to the hotel because he had fainted.”

His mother looks at him with pity and anguish. Louis feels like he might throw up.

“I stayed at his hotel waiting for him to wake up so I could explain everything. I knew what would happen, what the media would do, what Jenna’s team and mine would do. I didn’t respond to his messages or Jenna’s; I needed to fix things with Harry first, but those articles…”

“They were shitty articles, Lou.”

“I know, but how would Harry know?” – he replies with a broken voice. – “There were a ton of cameras outside the hotel, and they took Harry out the back without letting me talk to him. I had to follow his car to the venue.”

“Did you see him?”

“He opened the door to his dressing room, but he didn’t let me speak. He told me he didn’t want to know anything about me. He told me he knew I had a wife and that we were over.” – A sob escapes Louis, and his mother squeezes his hand. – “You should’ve seen his face, Mom. It was the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s my fault. This is all my fault. They harassed him to make statements, brought horrible signs to his concerts calling him a homewrecker. Calling him a slut. All of this is my fault.”

“Oh, love.” – His mother gets up from her chair to hug him.

They stay like that for a long while until they hear footsteps on the stairs, and his sister Lottie joins the hug, which makes Louis cry even more.

---

“Did Jenna say anything?” Lottie asks a few days later. Louis hadn’t wanted to leave his mother’s house, still feeling weak, still crying every day, still checking Harry’s chat hoping he’d be unblocked, still calling him every night, still thinking about him.

“She sent a couple of emails. Apparently, they are harassing her too to make her say something.”

“What did your team say?”

“Not to say anything; they’d handle it.”

“Well, they’re not doing a good job,” Louis looked at her, frowning. – “Sorry, Lou, but they’ve done nothing except make Harry look bad.”

“You mean the comments on Twitter?” – Louis had been checking Harry’s updates posts. There were all kinds of comments, from praising him for getting involved with a renowned director to threats for doing that to such a good woman like Jenna.

“It’s not just Twitter, you know. Every post anywhere, about his charity shows, is full of shit against him. The fundraising for his shows isn’t looking good at all.”

Louis lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his soapy hands through his hair.

“You should go out and say it, Louis. Tell the truth.”

“You know I can’t,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Does Harry matter so little to you?” – his sister sounds so angry that Louis wants to tear his hair out.

“What the hell, Lottie?”

“Guys!” – their mother yells from the kitchen after gesturing to the little siblings playing in the living room. – “What’s going on here?”

“Louis doesn’t want to do anything to help Harry.”

“What the hell, sister?” – Louis spits, his face burning.

“Louis!” – his mother scolds.

“Seriously, Louis. You don’t want to go out and tell the truth because it might cost you your job. You try to protect your job over your relationship.”

“I’m trying to protect you all!” – he yells in frustration. – “They’d sue me if Jenna pushed it, and we’d go back to our life before.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Louis.”

“Lottie!” – his mother shouts, making the other kids come into the kitchen.

“What the fuck, Lottie? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Enough, kids!” – his mother declares. – “Let’s go outside.”

She doesn’t let them object before leading them to the front of the house and closing the door.

“What’s your fucking problem, Lottie?” – Louis spits, his face red. His sister looks at him like he’s stupid.

“You, Louis! You are my fucking problem!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re still so scared.”

“Of course I’m scared!”

“No, I don’t mean scared of being sued for breaking a PR contract. You’re scared of getting shit thrown at you again for being with guys.”

“Do you think that’s it?” – Louis laughs incredulously.

“If not, what else? Years have passed, Louis. A decade has passed, and I’m sure Jenna is already capable of getting her own fame; she doesn’t need you anymore.”

“Lottie…”

“Are you in love with Harry?”

This time it really angers Louis.

“What the hell, Lottie? Of course I love him.”

“Then start acting like it. Be the Louis I admire and protect the people that he loves.”

Lottie storms out, slamming the door and leaving Louis with a burning face and a lump in his throat.

----

Louis is lying on his childhood bed staring at the ceiling. He’s been crying for hours after the fight with his sister. He knows she’s right, but the fear is bigger.

I’m an adult, he tells himself.

I can do this, he tells himself.

He cries a little more while scrolling through Twitter, seeing more updates about Harry. Updates about his last charity concert where several artists would perform to raise funds.

Louis smiles through tears, running his fingers across his phone screen, hypnotized by a tweet with a picture of Harry at his last show dancing.

He goes to read the comments and feels cold.

@vdksksy: He’s so beautiful, glad he’s still shining on stage.

@erodaharry: Seeing him smile and dance like this gives me a thousand years of life.

@jisjhdk: Dancing like he hasn’t been in a years-long relationship.

@ashleysgh: Very happy but after destroying a home. Louis x Jenna always.

@kijula: Someone tell me, how did this guy steal Louis?

Louis cries reading all these comments. His heart breaks imagining Harry reading the same, after everything that happened when Harry came out of the closet, and now Louis is responsible for the same happening again.

He’s reading and sobbing, barely noticing someone knocking on the door and slipping in without permission. It’s his sister; she looks at him sadly and climbs into bed with him, lying beside him and hugging him.

They both look at Louis’s phone screen until it’s soaked with his tears. His sister takes the phone from his hands and turns it off, arranging them more comfortably.

“I have to fix this,” Louis says, voice broken.

“You will, brother.”

Darkness immediately consumes them.

---

Louis talks first with Jenna and then with his team.

They sign agreements and resignations.

Louis cries the whole way to London.

He arrives so late he fears he won’t make it. He changes as quickly as he can, grabs his keys, and leaves.

He drives fast, frustrated, arriving nearly at the end of Harry’s opening act.

“Good evening, sir. Sorry, this is a private event,” says the security guard.

“That’s fine. I’m part of the media; I know him.”

“Can you give me your name, please?” the guard asks.

“Louis Tomlinson.” – The man starts flipping through papers while Louis bites his lip nervously, feeling his hands tremble.

“Sorry, sir. You’re not on the list.”

Louis could die right then.

“Shit, fuck, listen, mate, I really need to get in.”

“I’m sorry, sir—”

“Mitch—” Sarah comes out the door, elegantly dressed in black. – “Hey Royer, have you seen Mit—Louis?” – She stops for a second, looking at Louis.

“Sarah.” – Louis swallows, knowing Harry’s best friend might hate him right now. “I need to talk to Harry,” he says, voice shaking.

Sarah evaluates him for a moment before raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“He’s about to go on stage, Louis.”

“I’ll wait here,” he says with conviction, sitting on a stool.

He runs through what he’s going to say in his head, rubbing his hands to warm them. He hears a throat clear and turns to see the guard opening the door.

“Sarah said to let you in, section seven,” the guard tells him, stepping aside.

Louis allows himself just two seconds to think before fully entering the venue.

He runs toward section seven, hearing the screams of the fans, artists, and beneficiaries. Everyone is chanting Harry’s name. Louis keeps running, slipping on the wet floor, falling. He gets up and keeps running.

The lights go out.

Louis arrives, panting, at section seven where there are already people he can’t distinguish.

A single light illuminates the stage, and the screams grow louder.

Louis holds his breath.

Harry walks onto the stage, earning thousands of screams and cries from the crowd.

Louis gasps.

Harry is dressed all in black; the only colorful detail is the sparkling pearls around his neck.

He looks radiant, dreamlike, unreal, striking, exquisite. He looks like a true star. The music plays softly in the background, but the hypnotic element is his voice, smooth as velvet, beginning a song Louis has never heard, and by the uncontrollable screams, neither has the audience.

A new song.

Behind Harry on the screens, the lyrics appear, lyrics from the song:

Now I'm a homewrecker, I'm a slut
I got death threats filling up semi-trucks
Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice
All because I liked

I'm a hot topic on your tongue
I'm a rebound gettin' 'round, stealin' from the young
Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice
All because I liked a boy

Chapter 11: eleven

Harry had never felt so nervous and excited to go on stage.

He had convinced Mitch to perform his new song tonight. His last show, his last chance to prove who he was.

His hands were shaking and his throat kept drying up every few minutes.

“Sarah, I’ll go get Mitch, they’re five minutes from finishing the opening acts,” Harry said.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll go. He probably went out for a smoke.”

Harry could only nod.

He was anxious about how people, the media, and the fans would react; he was sure nothing could get worse after the past few weeks. But the lump in his throat still bothered him.

There was so much in that song, so many repressed and dark feelings. He had never written a song where he referred to himself as the public perceived him. He didn’t know what category that placed him in, but he was sure of one thing: he hadn’t asked for this.

He hadn’t asked to be the target of ridicule and attacks just for falling in love with a man, he hadn’t asked for pity or compassion for falling in love with a man, he hadn’t asked for recognition or acceptance just for falling in love with a man.

He put the pearls around his neck and looked at himself in the mirror.

He bit his lip before taking the red flower and tucking it into the strap across his chest.

He was going to give a real show tonight; he was ready.

“Harry…” Sarah entered the dressing room with Mitch following.

“What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth several times before closing it.

“Louis is here,” Mitch said. Sarah shot him a reproachful look, but Harry remained very still.

“What?”

“Louis came,” Mitch repeated in a small voice.

“And I…”

“You don’t have to worry, Harry, you can do this, love.”

“Did you see him?” he asked Sarah directly.

“Y-yes, but”

“Where is he?”

“In box seven.”

“Alright, let’s do this.” Harry said, leaving while adjusting the microphone and in-ears.

----

I said I wanted Thin Mints and you said you knew a guy
You showed up with a boombox and stars in your eyes
Who knew cuddling on trampolines could be so reckless
We bonded over Black Eyed Peas and complicated exes

Harry sang looking everywhere, walking across the stage, the lights following him. He moved and danced as the rhythm of the song demanded.

He felt confident, possessed as if he were another person. As if some kind of bold confidence had invaded him.

He thought of Louis.

He thought of the past months with him.

He thought of the past weeks without him.

He thought of how everything had fallen apart.

He thought of the photos Louis had on his Instagram with his wife.

He thought of Louis’s wedding articles.

He thought of himself crying in his bed until he fell asleep.

He thought of the pain in his chest.

He thought of his broken heart at home.

He thought of Louis’s face that day in his dressing room.

He thought of Louis.

Fell so deeply into it
It was all so innocent
Dating boys with exes
No, I wouldn't recommend it
I'm a homewrecker,
I'm a slut
I got death threats filling up semi-trucks

Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice
All because I liked a boy

He thought about how in love he still was with Louis.

He thought of Louis.

Louis.

Louis.

Louis.

Just him.

He looked directly at box seven.

Please, tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice
All because I liked a boy
A boy, a boy
All because I liked a boy.

-----

Harry got off the stage gasping and trembling all over. He could feel the sweat and adrenaline sliding down his neck. His eyes stung, but above all, he was tormented knowing Louis had seen everything.

“Harry, are you okay?” Sarah asked.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but a clearing of a throat made them turn.

Louis.

“Let me talk to you, Harry, please?”

Harry bit his trembling lip and blinked to hold back the tears.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Sarah said, looking at him. “Harry?”

“Y-yes, it’s fine,” he finally said.

As he watched Sarah leave, he saw Louis sigh and fidget nervously with his fingers.

“Harry…”

“Wait,” Harry said. “Before you say anything, you lied to me, you lied to me horribly with something as big as a fucking marriage, and I may never be able to forgive you for that.”

Harry felt his stomach flutter as he saw Louis slowly approaching him.

They were face to face after weeks. Harry held his breath—God, he was still the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

“Harry. I love you,” Louis said just like that. Harry gasped. “I just wanted to say it first, because it’s the truth. I lied to you, and I hate myself for it. I wanted to tell you that time we talked about the movie with Jenna, I really wanted to tell you, but I was scared it would be a dealbreaker. And I know I did everything wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you so much.”

Harry bit his trembling lip and looked away to avoid crying.

“I-I… it wasn’t that dramatic, Harry, or at least I don’t think it was. I actually lied a little when we talked that time about coming out. I was very young and impressionable, I wanted to work everywhere, on every project, and I made good friends who could help me with that. By that time, I had accepted that my work was consuming me too much, so I ended my relationship with a guy back home. I started getting involved with more producers and directors; some screenwriters would call me to look at their work, and everything was fine… until it wasn’t…”

»It happened during that movie.« Harry closes his eyes; he doesn’t have to ask, and Louis doesn’t say it out loud, because they both know what he means. “One of the producers and a man I had admired throughout my training as a director invited me to meet Jenna personally. It was at a party at his house. There were enough important people to be intimidating. He told us that if we did a publicity stunt—obviously we didn’t know what he meant—and he told us to step outside so people could see us, take photos, and rumors would start about the director dating the lead actress. I told him right then that I was gay. And she told him she wasn’t interested. It was also Jenna’s first big, important job. But the director said it didn’t matter.

‘It’s just publicity, buddy,’ the man said. ‘A few photos here, a few photos there, and the articles will follow. It doesn’t matter later that you’re sissy.’

"I froze when I heard that… I knew not everyone was progressive or whatever, but it still hurt. I was twenty, Harry, my family was going through a tough time financially, my mom had just had my little sisters, we needed the money, I wanted to work, to make my career worthwhile, and I wanted to work with the best. Jenna was less intimidated, or at least at that moment, she said she didn’t want bad publicity as if she had gotten the role by sleeping with me, or pretended she did. The producer told me I had to convince her, so I did. I told her that people would talk about her and she would get more leading roles; I didn’t even know if it would work, I just didn’t want to disappoint the old man.” Louis takes a breath, and Harry notices the corners of his eyes are wet.

»We did a lot of publicity during the year the movie lasted. And when it finally ended, Jenna told me they had offered her another role, but she feared they would make her go out with another director. I honestly had seen things… I had seen how some queer actors and actresses were treated, even screenwriters and set and costume staff. So Jenna and I agreed to continue like that for a while. No one had to know. And it would benefit both of us. Part of me hoped that after two years, everything would change. I would finally work on my first film as the primary director; it was my fucking chance. After that, I was ready to come out. There would be a premiere, and I wanted to bring this guy I had been seeing.”

Louis pauses.

“But one day before, I got drunk with the producer; there were some cameramen and assistants around, and everyone was making jokes about gays. I couldn’t laugh, but I also couldn’t leave. And then one of the cameramen said, ‘I’m glad you came back to the right side with Jenna, buddy; you definitely saved yourself.’ I couldn’t tell him I was still as fucking gay as the first day. But that phrase, I suppose, just struck me a bit. ‘You saved yourself,’ that’s what I thought I had done. I saved myself. I broke up with the guy the next day and took Jenna with me to the premiere of my first film.

A few weeks later, I talked to my family and told them I would marry Jenna.” Harry swallows a gasp.

“My mother didn’t agree, and my sisters were still too young to understand anything. But my grandmother was happy I was marrying a girl. And I knew everything would be better that way. Jenna didn’t accept immediately; it took a few months, and before we got married she told me it was a mistake, but she would do it anyway. For her, of course, it worked too: her interviews had headlines with my name, she was invited to major projects, brands worked with her. And I started rubbing shoulders with old producers and directors, and soon it became a vicious cycle that led to now.”

There’s an awkward silence in the dressing room. Harry wants to cry, but he also wants to hug Louis, but he also wants to punch Louis, but he also wants to protect Louis from everyone. Instead, he swallows the lump in his throat and stays there.

“I know I made a strange decision, but it worked for me at the time. I couldn’t be as brave as you were. I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Neither was I” murmurs Harry through clenched teeth.

“I know, Harry, I just… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

“Why didn’t you get a divorce afterward?” he can’t help but blurt out.

“Jenna wanted to sign something…” Louis explains. “A sort of image convenience agreement. She said she knew I would continue seeing men, and she didn’t want to stop me, but she also wouldn’t be embarrassed or ridiculed if someone found out. I promised her I’d be careful; anyway, I didn’t want it to be known, obviously. But she wanted it in writing, so I did it.”

“Can’t you divorce her?” Harry’s voice trembles.

“Now, yes…”

“What do you mean?”

“Before coming here, I talked to her and told her I’d take care of the shitty articles, the ones that mention her, and the ones that mention you. I signed some compensation papers for her, and we ended our agreement.”

“What?” Harry could actually die now.

“I just… I’m not legally divorced yet, Harry… I guess I will be soon, but I wanted to settle it before talking to you.”

“Louis…” Harry says wearily.

“Listen,” he interrupts. “I know I screwed up. I should have told you, explained it… I was terrified. I didn’t want to face whatever would come. But my sister… well, she asked me if I was in love with you. I told her yes, and she told me to think about if you were worth it. Harry,” Louis takes a deep breath and slowly moves closer to him, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You are everything to me, you’re worth everything to me. And even if that meant losing my job, contacts, or whatever, I’d do it for you.”

Harry closes his eyes, but doesn’t pull away as Louis takes his hands.

“Harry, I love you. And I will always love you. I want to be with you—yesterday, today, tomorrow, and forever. I just need you to let me try. I’ll make you fall in love with me again, I’ll win you over as many times as necessary, just give me a chance.”

Harry can’t open his eyes, but he feels it—the tremor in Louis’s hands, in his own sweaty hands, and his heart racing. He feels it in Louis’s slow, soft breath near his face. He feels it at the tips of his toes, like an electric brush running through his body to his cheeks as a blush. But most of all, he feels it deep in his throat, in the knot that disperses and moves to the pit of his stomach like a thousand butterflies.

He opens his eyes and meets Louis’s glassy gaze. There’s a soft smile on his lips, and Harry could die right there.

“I love you, Louis,” he says, holding his neck with both hands and pulling him close.

They kiss, desperate and eager to feel. They kiss as if the agony of being apart is repaired that way.

Louis wraps his arms around his waist, and Harry starts stepping backward until his back hits the dresser. Louis helps him up there, sliding between his legs and caressing his thighs gently.

They part to catch their breath, but Louis continues kissing his cheeks, jaw, and neck. Harry moans involuntarily and presses Louis impossibly closer.

“I missed you so much, love” Louis whispers, kissing his neck and even his collarbone.

Harry makes a sound as Louis pulls his shirt off over his head.

And then they look at each other.

“I missed you so much” Harry says with a broken voice. He wants to cry from longing, to hug Louis and hide his face in his neck forever.

“Let’s go home” he whispers. Harry doesn’t know if he means his house or Harry’s, but he nods, his skin tingling.

Harry puts on another shirt and grabs his bag before leaving hand in hand with Louis.

They don’t run into anyone until the car, and Harry gives the driver the address without Louis hearing, then pushes him inside.

They don’t speak on the way, but Louis doesn’t let go of his hand. Harry suppresses a smile at the squeeze he feels.

When they finally arrive home, Louis visibly shivers at seeing Harry’s house.

“Harry…”

“It’s okay, come here” he pulls his hand until they enter. Louis looks around as if it’s his first time here, and Harry finds it endearing, so he smiles, and without wasting time, begins undressing Louis and guiding him to the bedroom.

It doesn’t take long for them to undress and for Louis to start teasing the entrance of Harry.

Harry moans and pants as Louis kisses him carelessly and wetly. When Louis finally enters him, Harry holds his face with his hands and kisses him deeply.

“I love you” Harry says against his lips.

“I love you, baby” Louis replies breathlessly.

It’s messy and full of passion; they climax at the same time, Louis panting in his ear with a rough moan, and Harry digging his nails into his back, breathing heavily.

It feels good.

---

They lie side by side, Louis’s head on Harry’s shoulder, hiding his sweaty, flushed face against his neck, while Harry strokes his hair gently.

He feels exhausted and satisfied.

“Are you okay, love?” Louis asks drowsily against his neck.

“I’m fine,” Harry says, smiling.

And then Harry feels like he’s home.

Chapter 12: epilogue

Notes:

HELP THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER. HOPE YOU LIKE IT :)))

Harry and Louis spend more time together after their reconciliation night.

---

Louis keeps his promise to win Harry over again (not that Harry didn’t fall immediately). He brings him flowers every day, tries cooking for him, and takes him on amazing dates.

Harry agrees to be his boyfriend a second time, after three dates (no one judge him, he’s in love).

---

Louis meets with Jenna in a friendly meeting to sign off on the end of their PR agreement.

Harry kisses him breathless after Louis leaves the meeting.

----

They travel together to see their families.

In Doncaster, Harry spends a lot of time with Louis’s siblings.

His twin little sisters seem scandalized when Harry walks in introducing himself as Louis’s boyfriend; they argue with Louis for a while, and he explains that the last time he was here, they were with their dad, so they can’t blame him.

Harry laughs a lot and lets the twins show him all their merch.

Harry also spends time with Lottie and thanks her for making Louis see reason.

“He’s a good man, a little dumb sometimes,” she says.

Harry laughs.

“I heard that!” Louis shouts from the kitchen where he’s helping wash the dishes.

---

Harry’s mother welcomes Louis back into the family again.

Harry’s sister, her husband, and niece invite them to dinner and board games.

Everything is perfect.

----

Louis goes back to work a week later, and Harry pouts because they’ll spend less time together. Louis kisses Harry’s pout until he laughs, then promises to take weekends off and come have dinner at Harry’s every night.

------

They still use both homes, but most nights they sleep at Harry’s.

----

Louis’s divorce article is released a few weeks later.

Louis takes most of the shitty stuff, but Harry is there to make him feel better.

---

Harry quits social media, as does Louis, for their peace of mind.

----

Sarah and Mitch invite them to a small party, and they seem delighted to go.

They talk a lot and drink.

Harry tells Louis about Mitch and Sarah’s crush on the photo Louis sent from camp.

“It wasn’t a crush!” Mitch protests, shocked.

“It was,” Sarah says simply.

Louis bursts out laughing from where he’s sitting on the couch with his arm around Harry, who is blushing.

“But Harry was obsessed with his silver fox,” Mitch defends.

“Obsessed, huh?” Louis squeezes his arm around Harry and raises his eyebrows, making Harry blush more and laugh.

“Come on, look at you,” he grabs his cheeks and gives him a loud kiss on the lips. Louis chuckles with a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“You’re disgusting,” Sarah teases with a smile.

They return home talking about how fun it was, and how sweet Tyler is.

“I’d love to have a baby,” Harry says without thinking.

“Really?” Louis asks, smiling while driving.

“Yes, I would. That’s why I love going to your mom’s house. All that chaos of kids, I love it.”

Louis smiles even wider.

Harry barely has time to hang up the keys before Louis pushes him against the door and kisses him desperately.

“Come on, love, I’ll make babies with you.” He stifles Harry’s laugh and the moan that follows as he lifts him against the door.

---

The shitty articles and comments die down a bit when some photos of them strolling through Manchester leak via some fans. A new Twitter trend emerges: LouisxHarry.

----

For their anniversary, Louis takes Harry on an adventure of multiple dates in a row, and finishes by singing an Arctic Monkeys song to him.

Harry cries.

Louis also tries to make babies at night.

----

The following year, Harry is in charge of their anniversary date. He arranges a private concert for Louis, where he dances and sings the song “Because I Like a Boy.” That seems to excite them, because as soon as it’s over, they quickly usher Mitch and Sarah out to go to bed together.

----

By their third year together, the social media backlash is barely noticeable. Both are happy and comfortable sharing it, and that’s how Louis posts a photo on his Instagram for the first time in years.

Harry is smiling, his dimples showing, and Louis looks at him with teary eyes and a radiant smile.

Louis adds a caption: Always in my heart, Harry Styles. Yours sincerely.

-----

They attend the premiere of Louis’s new movie, and everyone wants to interview them.

Harry beams, thrilled to be with Louis, and Louis can’t stop looking at him.

“How long have you two been together?” a journalist asks, seemingly unaware of all the past controversy.

“Almost three years,” Louis replies proudly.

Harry immediately smiles at him, and Louis feels like he might faint.

----

The movie is nominated for awards a few months later.

Harry organizes a spectacular boat date to celebrate.

-----

Louis is very nervous a month later. His hands sweat, and his face tingles.

“Come on, it’ll be fine,” Lottie says.

“What if he says no?”

“As if there’s a world where Harry Styles would say no to you,” Sarah says.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I can do it,” Louis murmurs more to himself than anyone else.

“Do it, come on,” his mother encourages.

----

Louis proposes to Harry in the same park and in the same spot where they met three years ago.

“If you think about it, we have to thank Ernie,” Louis jokes once Harry says yes and leaps into Louis’s arms, tears and blushing cheeks.

“Oh my God—” Harry says into his neck.

They separate but not by much. Harry looks at him with sparkling eyes and a smile that shows his beautiful dimples. Louis is so in love he probably looks just as happy.

“Thanks to Ernie for hitting me with a ball and knocking over my plate of food.”

“I love you, Harry.” Louis says.

“I love you, Louis Deaking.”

----

Louis brings his family, Harry’s family, friends, and obviously Harry to his award ceremony a few months later.

Louis wins. (Obviously.)

“I’d like to thank my family, my sisters and brother, my mother for always being there and supporting me. And I’d like to thank my fiancé, Harry Styles. I love you, baby.”

The audience applauds loudly, and Harry can’t stop smiling.

Louis steps down from the stage and walks toward his family, receiving applause and sincere smiles.

Harry watches him shine, enchanted.

Only then does he think everything will be okay.

----

They get married in winter, on the beach.

They exchange wedding vows that make them cry.

(No one judge how many times they cry in this story.)

A few hours later, sitting on the shoreline watching the sunset and holding hands, Harry feels a sense of home in his chest.

“And all this, because I liked a boy.”

“A silver fox, love” Louis corrects with a smile, which Harry mirrors.

“My beautiful silver fox husband.”

Yes, everything will be okay.

Notes:

Wow, this was the longest fic I’ve written in a while, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t even reach 50k words. If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think—I hope you enjoyed it. <3

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