Work Text:
"Yeah go get your man," Louis whispered to the TV, a gentle smile in his words, sprawled out comfortably along the couch.
This show was his new obsession, it made getting to the end of the week that much more enjoyable. And even though it reminded him of less fond memories, of a version of himself he'd been forced to bury long ago, it also gave him a sense of hope.
Like right now, as the end of episode four nears closer and Scott, captain of the made-up hockey team New York Admirals, stands in the middle of the ice gesturing up at his boyfriend Kip to come down from the stands. Kip, a simple barista who's been Scott's boyfriend through all the faults and loopholes that a reputation and famous title carry. They'd had their ups and downs over time, even though it was only shown through one singular episode... But Kip never left.
And they're just characters. They're characters, fictional, imaginary hockey players and smoothee baristas. But somehow Louis went from a general excitement over the idea of Scott hard-launching his and Kip's relationship on live TV, to being nearly on the edge of his seat because the music is amplifying, and Kip's eyes are glowing as the realization finally hits, and Scott is waiting patiently on the ice like he would wait there until it melted and refroze him to the spot, and it's alll so beautiful and perfectly filmed and they're just fictional hockey players but somehow Louis is seeing himself in them.
He sees himself in Kip, mostly. Has since the first episode. Definition of head over heels (despite what he'd like to admit), confused but willing to be as patient as ever for as long as he has to. Creative, and loving, and generous. Wondering constantly how Scott just walked into his life and decided right then and there that he was never leaving.
Except Scott, his Scott, was Harry.
Harry, who was caring but cautious, and would break every strand of yellow tape surrounding his name in a heart beat if his hands were his own. Harry, who was confident in his outer shell, confident in many aspects of his life, but confused in so many others. Confused on why he's so confused and why it feels like there's just one last piece of the puzzle hiding from him. Harry, who built Louis' night star by star, while still fighting to put his own constellations back in order. They've had their faults and their burns, their falls and their cracks, but it's always been their hands that pick up the broken pieces. It's always been him... And it's always been Harry.
And Louis' not even sure when the screen turned blurry, or when something as simple as a TV show about gay hockey players was able to strike him so deep in the heart it was as if he'd been shocked, but the crowds cheer as Scott and Kip met lips was deafening and Shane and Ilya sat on the other side of their screens absolutely speechless.
For once, Louis felt awake.
As the screen turns to black, and the credits roll, Louis sits there engulfed by his own thoughts. Tears of relief and shared happiness for these fictional characters, that aren't real and won't ever even know him but have starstruck him, still prickling at his waterline as the blurry scene plays over and over again in his head because could it really be that simple?
Could it really be as simple as kissing in front of a crowd just so that there's other witnesses and it can't be filed away in place of another lie? Could it be as easy as to just spill the words into a microphone so millions of ears can hear them and not the scripted speech of a broken record player? Could it be as basic as taking keys to shackles and freeing two pairs of hands to be locked up again but as one? Not just for fictional hockey players, but for everyone who's ever gone through this. Stories as similar as their own, doors as easy to open but still unattainable. Just a copy of a copy of a copy.
Maybe it's not all that complicated. Maybe it does just take a certain amount of strength, and a combined amount of resilience, to break the surrounding knot. But they've done this for fifteen years so what's five more? Or six. Or an eternity because all he knows is that Harry's his Scott and he's his Kip. And Harry's done so much for him, for them, shielding his fears and breaking the ice. More than Louis will probably ever realize and beyond what he could ever put into words. But if Harry will wait in the ice for him, freeze his feet and stand there, waiting, then Louis will climb down from bleachers as fast as his own legs will carry him.
And so, as his eyes continue to burn, now from the whirlpool of thoughts in his brain, Louis wipes the tear track from his cheek and fumbles blindly for his phone. Opening his messages to the one contact he could find with his eyes closed in the deepest realms of sleep, their last messages simply discussing plans for dinner, and thinking once more with every letter he types of how many times Harry's built him up, or let him crumble, all that they've been through, all that Harry's done for him, for them, he hits send.
Because it may not be that simple, and he may not be able to do half of things that were circling his brain because they're just not there yet and maybe they'll never truly get there. But he can do this. And not one pair of eyes or a controlling hand can stop him.
"I love you."