Chapter Text
plus one
♬⋆.˚ when we catch eyes at that stupid party, i know exactly what to do ˚.⋆♬
Louis was a little bit drunk.
Not horridly so. Not in the way that he’d vomit anytime soon, but in the way he had to consciously tether his thoughts if he didn’t want them to float off into the abyss.
He was tucked in on the sofa between a lad who stunk of B.O. and a lass who was wearing a long sleeve shirt just glittery enough to be getting all over his jeans. It was another one of Niall’s gigs, a ‘farewell to autumn’-themed get together that they ‘just had to have before everyone got too busy with the holidays’.
A whole lot of carry-on just to have a piss-up, but Louis admired the dedication if nothing else.
He picked at the ‘snowperson’ Niall had affixed to all of the beer bottles - trying not to relive the debate he’d witnessed about what made a snowman a snowman if not for the top hat, therefore the absence of a top hat surely left the lump of snow’s gender up to the perceiver - and then decided to get to his feet.
Louis wobbled, just a little, before heading in search of anything that wasn’t this. That wasn’t being wedged in between people he only half knew, listening to inane conversations, crawling out of his skin.
That wasn’t being alone with his own thoughts, hiding from action and responsibility and the truth. Dodging signs and dismissing them as nothing, ignoring his gut feelings in favour of his own self-pity.
Alcohol was a fabulous substitute for courage.
And it was allowed to be - this wasn’t the films, the novels that stood the test of time that told tales of personal development and self-improvement. He wasn’t put on this earth to provide a moral steer for his own inner monologue and perceived audience.
He was just some guy, and this was his life, and if alcohol got his feet moving to find a curly head and put his heart out there, so be it.
Real life was messy and raw and filled with stupid decisions and missed opportunities. That’s what Louis was chasing. Ridding himself of the solitude that careful consideration created.
Harry was absent from the lounge. From the kitchen, too, and the hall. Louis drew the line at checking the bathroom because his life didn’t need to be that messy, but that left the bedrooms or the patio.
If it was the bedrooms then of course he’d missed the opportunity, someone else would be tasting Harry’s skin already and digging their fingers in against the small of his back. Louis would probably lose the confidence he’d found deep inside himself and completely deflate, floating like a possessed helium balloon trailing morbidly down the stairs to haunt the lounge once more.
If it was the patio then he’d tell Harry every thought that had ever been inside of his head in the hopes he’d understand. Harry would agree with him, too. He’d confess his undying adoration and then they’d have babies and get married and plant petunias in the spring (and Harry would probably correct him on whichever season was best).
Louis strode confidently towards the sliding door, tearing it open and getting hit in the face with the fresh evening. It did little to sober him up, and as he glanced around the familiar exterior he clocked him, over near the shed that was seconds from falling over if the fence wasn’t there to save it.
He was pissing against the wall of it, because this wasn’t a film, and catching him at an inopportune time made sense for how Louis’ life went. He didn’t want to lose his nerve so he decided to step out and shut the door behind him, giving them the illusion of privacy though it was just clear glass.
As he tiptoed down the steps he misplaced his footing, skidding off the edge and yelping when he had to grip the bannister for support. He found his balance again, daring to glance up and finding Harry’s eyes on him wide-eyed and motionless.
Great. Interrupted him mid-stream. That surely boded well.
Louis tried not to look so obviously when Harry tucked himself back away again, acting like he’d not even noticed and only properly registering him when he knew he wasn’t exposed.
“Lou? What are you doing?” Harry questioned, closing some of the distance between them.
Louis cleared his throat. He set his shoulders, stood up straighter, balanced himself again in case he stumbled once more and got ready to spill his truth. He opened his mouth and…
Nothing. Nothing came out.
He tried again.
“I-” he started, blinking rapidly as he laser-focussed on Harry. He looked gorgeous, as always, stunning him into silence. That was surely it.
He watched as Harry’s kind expression gave way to something else, something a bit more confused. Just as Harry opened his mouth to speak, Louis cut him off, knowing he had to say something first otherwise it would all be for nothing.
“I’m going home now,” Louis announced.
“Oh,” Harry responded, his brow properly furrowed now. “Oh, okay. Ehm- thank you for-” Harry began, then trailed his sentence off into nothingness.
Louis had held out his hand.
Louis had held out his hand with his fingers spread for Harry to lock his in between and seal the unspoken deal.
Louis had held out his hand with everything he couldn’t quite say right now but he hoped was shared, he hoped Harry understood and that he wasn’t just reading too far in or being completely ignorant as to what was really happening.
“Wanna come?” Louis wondered, prompting him just a bit when Harry had spent a good few seconds staring at his hand like it was a bomb about to go off.
Harry didn’t bother to answer. He just slipped his fingers between Louis’ and gave it a firm squeeze.
French exits were much easier with someone else in tow.
me and you were meant to be in love
⋰˚☆
i see the signs of a lifetime, you til i die