Chapter Text
Well. If nothing else, Louis has one thing to feel happy about today. Ok, maybe not happy . But… justified? Whatever he’s feeling, it’s something other than heartbreak. Because Harry looks about how Louis feels- fucking awful. Louis doesn’t remember much from last night. He remembers their last show with Zayn. He remembers El trying to make a move on him. He remembers Harry ripping his heart out and stomping on it with those damned Chelsea boots. He remembers Harry leaving him. He remembers going out and getting shit-faced. He remembers dancing with that girl- Bianca?- and then not much else.
He woke up this morning in the girl- Briana!-’s flat and ran out before she woke up, guilt twisting in his stomach. Or maybe that was the residual alcohol from last night. Either way, it had him puking his guts out in the bushes outside her complex (oops?) while he waited for Paul to come get him.
Then he went home and cried in the shower.
And then he reminded himself that he is Louis fucking Tomlinson.
After that, he smoked right through an entire pack of cigarettes and got ready to go. They had a band meeting today. He had shit to do. He would not wallow . He’s Louis fucking Tomlinson.
So, he put on a pair of joggers and his maroon scoop-neck shirt, grabbed his “boyfriend” jacket, and ran out the door without looking at himself. He knew he looked awful. Bags under the eyes, nose stained red from a night and morning of drinking and crying, eyes glassy and bloodshot. Whatever.
He was, naturally, late. But when he burst into the hotel conference room and his eyes landed on Harry, he didn’t care.
Harry’s a mess too, curls wild and unwashed, eyes downcast and bleary, heavy shadows beneath them. His lip is bitten-red, a habit Harry’s had since even before they met. He’s wearing a pair of skinnies and a jumper Louis is entirely positive is actually his. Upon seeing him, Louis’ throat closes up, all the air leaving his lungs. Tears burn his eyes and his grip on the door handle is white knuckled, the metal cutting into his palm. He clenches his jaw. Harry’s the one who gave up on him . Louis’ll be damned if he’s going to cry in front of him. So he swallows thickly, forced a grin, closes the door, and moves around the table to drop into the seat beside Harry. He doesn’t miss the way Harry tenses, or the sharp intake of breath.
“So how were all of your nights?” Louis asks, forcing as much cheer into his voice as he can.
“Pretty shit mate,” Niall responds, his voice hard. Louis blinks. Is Niall mad at him?
“Lads, let’s not do this now,” Liam says firmly, eyes boring into the table.
“Do what?” Louis demands, eyes flashing. “Is there a problem?”
“We know what happened-”
“Between me and Harry?” Louis finishes for Niall. “I don’t think you fucking do. Cause if you did, you wouldn’t be getting pissy with me .”
“I’m not getting pissy with you!”
“Stop,” Harry whispers, eyes squeezed shut. They both ignore him, glaring daggers at each other.
“Bullshit,” Louis accuses.
“I-”
“Morning, lads,” Simon cheers, waltzing into the room. He’s sickeningly happy, his wide smile twisting Louis’ gut and clenching his fists. He raises an eyebrow at the palpable tension in the room, but slides into his seat without commenting.
“What’re we doing here, Simon?” Liam asks cooly, but Louis can see the tightness in his jaw, the tensity in every line of his body.
“We need to have a talk about the future of the band after Mr. Malik’s unfortunate departure.”
“”You mean after your abuse finally scared him off?” Louis snaps, anger racing through him. The boys, save Harry who continues to stare at his hands in his lap, look at him with wide eyes. Simon just cuts him with a cool, icy glare.
“Zayn left of his own accord.”
“Oh that’s a load of shite and you know it, Simon. You never wanted him in the band.”
“ In any case ,” Simon grits out, his voice steely. “We have to discuss what happens next.”
“Nothing,” Harry says quietly. All heads snap to look at him. He doesn’t look up, playing with his rings. “Nothing happens next. Our contract is up at the end of the year. I sure as hell am never signing with you again.” Simon’s eyes narrow.
“You say that like you have a choice,” he snarls. Louis wants to drag the attention back to him. Tear the focus from Harry, keep Harry out of it. Protect Harry. But Harry’s made it painfully clear that’s not up to him anymore. Harry’s eyes snap up to Simon, his gaze angry and tearful and terrifying in only the way an angry Harry can be. Louis can’t help the sharp gasp that escapes him, but no one seems to notice.
“I do,” Harry says, his voice cool. “I talked to the Azoff’s.”
Simon lets out a barking laugh. “The Azoff’s? Bloody brilliant, Harry.”
“Hiatus,” Harry says. Simon freezes, his murderous glare returning. “We can go on an indefinite hiatus. It’s in our contract.”
“Harry, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Simon grits through clenched teeth.
“Actually, I do. An indefinite hiatus. Indefinite meaning we can extend it until our contract with you is up for good.”
“Harry, what are you doing?” Louis hisses. Harry doesn’t look at him.
“Haz, this means we won’t be a band anymore…” Niall says slowly. Harry looks at him.
“I understand what hiatus means, Ni.”
“But- but we won’t be a band ,” Niall protests again.
“Zayn was right,” Harry says, looking at Simon again. “We can’t go on like this. None of us can. I’m done. I am done . Done with you and your bullshit, Simon. Done with being controlled. I’m. Done .”
“Harry,” Louis says softly, a hand on the younger man’s arm. “You can’t be serious.” Harry’s eyes finally, finally meet Louis’. Emerald green swims in tears, something vulnerable and terrified hiding in their depths.
“I am,” he whispers. Then he’s jerking away, standing from the table and running a hand through his wild curls. “Simon, write up whatever contracts you need.” And then Harry brushes past Louis’ chair and marches out the door. Niall starts to stand to go after him, but Louis is already pushing back his chair and running after the curly-headed man, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Harry!” Louis shouts as he chases him down the hotel hall. Harry doesn’t stop. Louis runs after him, managing to grab his sleeve and pulling the taller boy to face him. “What the hell are you doing ?”
“I can’t- I can’t do it anymore, Lou,” Harry gasps, tears running down his cheeks. “Any of it. I can’t do the stunts, I can’t do the lies, I can’t do this. Especially not without Zayn. I mean, fuck, I just- I can’t .” Harry rubs the heel of his hand across his cheek, body shaking. Louis doesn't care anymore. Doesn't care about last night. Doesn't care about their fight. Doesn't care about Simon or Eleanor or any of that shit. All that matters is Harry.
“Shh, shh, I know, I know Hazza,” Louis whispers, thumbs coming up to brush away the tears from Harry’s face. Harry blinks at him with those wide green eyes that made Louis fall head over heels for him five years ago. “I know.” Louis goes to pull Harry into a hug, but the taller boy jerks away.
“Harry,” Louis sighs exasperatedly. “What’s this about? Like, really? What is this?”
“He hit you,” Harry says, voice hard and indecipherable. Louis’ stomach drops.
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“Simon. He hit you.” Harry's eyes meet his, teary and broken.
“H-how did-?”
“Eleanor told me. She told me all the shit you’re going through for me , Louis.”
“That manipulative fucking bitch,” Louis growls, rage burning through him.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me that?” Harry begs, eyes searching Louis’ for any kind of explanation.
“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything!” Louis exclaims. This is why Harry wasn’t supposed to find out, why he was never supposed to find out. Louis was handling it.
“It could have! We could have gone to the police !” Louis laughs, shaking his head and biting back tears. Harry grabs his arms, making Louis look at him. “We could have tried . I mean fuck, that’s what Paul said to do the very first time it happened!” Louis freezes, his blood turning to ice. Harry blanches, seemingly realizing his slip-up.
“What do you mean?” Louis demands, forcing his voice to stay steady. Harry backs away, hands leaving Louis and shaking. Louis steps closer, eyes alight with barely-contatined fury. “Harry what the fuck are you saying?”
“I-”
“That son of a bitch!” Louis growls, turning on his heel and marching back toward the conference room. Harry chases after him, reaching for his sleeve, pulling at him, trying to stop him. But not even god himself could stop Louis as he shoves Harry off and storms into the room, interrupting the argument occurring between Liam, Niall, and Simon.
“You piece of shit!” Louis shouts, fists clenching. Simon’s cold gaze shifts to him and Louis is basically shaking with rage as Harry tries to pull him back. “You fucking hit him?!” Niall and Liam pale and Harry knows he’s crying now.
“Louis, stop,” Harry begs, pulling at the older man’s sleeve. Louis just shakes him off.
“You said you wouldn’t,” Louis says, his voice scarily cold. “You said as long as I did what you fucking said you’d leave him alone.” Simon stands, turning to face the two men.
“And I told him the same thing. And guess what boys? You both fucked up. Over and over.” His gaze slides to Harry. “We had a deal, Harry.” Harry manages a wet, incredulous laugh, releasing his hold on Louis.
“We’ve made a lot of deals, Simon. Your word means nothing. You never would’ve honored this one, so why the fuck should I?” That gets Louis’ attention and he looks back at Harry.
“What deal was it this time?” Louis asks, voice shockingly soft. Harry doesn’t look at him, glaring at Simon. Louis grabs his chin softly, making the younger man look at him. “What was the deal?” Harry swallows hard, gaze moving from Simon to Louis.
“That if we stayed broken up, you wouldn’t have to take a new beard,” he says, words thick with tears. Louis chuckles darkly, turning back to the man behind him.
“You’re fucking sick, Simon,” he scoffs, crossing his arms, “but I didn’t think you were possibly that stupid . You really thought either of us would buy a word out of your mouth?”
“You boys really fucked up this time,” Simon snarls. Louis scoffs, stepping closer. Niall and Liam are beside Harry now, backing them both.
“What the fuck are you gonna do about it?” Louis challenges, blue eyes flashing. Simon’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing. “ This is over.” With that, Louis turns on his heel, grabs Harry by the elbow, and drags them both from the room, Niall and Liam right behind them.
“Ni, where’s your room?” Louis asks, hold tight on Harry’s arm even as the younger man tries to wiggle out of his grip.
“304. Louis, what-”
“Great give me your key card and to Liam’s,” Louis orders, holding out a hand and raising an expectant eyebrow. Niall sighs, realizing there’s no point in trying to talk to Louis now, and passes over the key.
“Louis,” Harry whines as they enter the lift. The second the doors close, Louis is shoving Harry back against the wall, hands on his arms, and crushes his lips to Harry’s desperately. Harry lets out a small, surprised squeak as Louis kisses him. There’s nothing soft about this kiss, it’s clashing teeth and gripping hands and desperate.
It’s a moment before Harry can gather himself enough to react, soft hands coming to hold Louis’ face, the smaller man’s dropping to hold his waist. He forcibly softens the kiss, tipping Louis’ chin up and kissing him slowly, teasingly. Louis hits against his chest, breaking apart for just a second, blown-out, glassy blue eyes staring up and breaths heavy.
“Kiss me for real, Harry,” Louis demands, his voice rough. Harry lets out a low sound from the back of his throat and then flips their positions, pinning Louis to the wall with a hand on his hip and another holding Harry’s jaw. Harry lowers his face until he can feel Louis’ huffing breath across his lips.
“I’ll kiss you exactly how I kiss you,” he says, voice low. He feels Louis shiver beneath him and he leans forward just ever so slightly…
The doors ding open.
Harry smirks, pulling Louis out of the lift and into the hall. They practically run to Niall’s room and Louis attaches his lips to Harry’s neck as the taller boy tries to open the door.
“You know,” Louis whispers against his throat, “we do need to talk.” Harry finally gets the door open and they stumble into the room.
“Yeah we do,” Harry agrees, grabbing Louis’ face and kissing him deeply, pressing him into the wall while the door slams shut. “Later.” Louis sighs as Harry’s lips skip down to his neck, sucking a bruise into the skin of his throat. Then Louis remembers where he woke up this morning. Who he woke up with. Guilt rips through him and he pushes at Harry’s chest.
“Harry. Haz, Harry, stop,” Louis whispers. Harry stops immediately, pulling back and looking at Louis with furrowed brows and concerned eyes. Louis feels tears building in his eyes as guilt claws at his heart.
“Lou, what’s wrong?” Harry asks softly, thumb brushing away a tear as it falls down Louis’ cheek. Louis squeezes his eyes shut and falls forward, urging Harry to envelop him in his arms.
“Fuck, Haz, I fucked up. I fucked up really bad,” Louis cries into Harry’s solid chest.
“What’re you talking about? With Simon? We both did, Lou. We’ll be fine, we’ll work it out-” Louis shakes his head.
“No, no. Last- last night, Hazza, fuck I’m so sorry.” Harry pulls back, cupping Louis’ face in his hands.
“If either of us fucked up last night, it was me, my love. I never should have done that. I messed up so bad. I let- I let them into my head, and I fucked up so bad. I don’t know why on Earth you’re even willing to take my back-”
“Harry,” Louis interrupts. “I- I slept with someone else.” Louis sees something in Harry’s eyes shatter.
“You- what?”
“I- I think. I think I slept with someone else last night.”
“You think ?” Harry echoes, stepping back. Louis’ hands flash to Harry’s in a second, holding it to his cheek, not wanting to lose the contact.
“I- fuck, Haz. I got so drunk. I went out and I just- I drank so much. I just wanted to forget, I’m so sorry.”
“How- how do you not know if you fucked someone?” Harry’s eyes search Louis’, both of them on the verge of tears.
“I- she was asleep when I left, and I just-”
“Wait, she ?” Harry repeats.
“Ye-yeah, it was this bird I met at the club. Briana, I think her name was.”
“Why- Lou you’re gay , why were you with her in the first place?” Harry demands, something flashing in his eyes. Louis flushes despite himself, remembering exactly what it was that drew him in.
“She had the same shampoo as you,” he whispers. “I was shit-faced enough so that I could almost- almost - pretend that-” Louis cuts himself off with a shaky breath.
“Pretend she was me?” Harry asks, voice low and eyes dark as he steps forward, crowding Louis back against the wall. Louis bites his bottom lip, nodding hesitantly. Harry lowers his lips until they brush across Louis’ ear. Louis shivers at the touch. “She kiss you, Lou?”
“Not like you do,” Louis answers. Harry lets out a quiet laugh, nose tucking under Louis’ jaw. “I’m- shit, Harry, I’m so sorry.” Harry retreats again, hands once more cupping Louis’ face.
“I messed up last night, Lou. Really, really bad. Probably worse than either of us ever have. I think- I think we should just move forward, yeah? I mean, if you can?” There’s something painfully vulnerable in Harry’s eyes and Louis smiles softly, raising a hand to run his thumb along Harry’s bottom lip.
“Of course I can,” Louis breathes. Louis smirks. “Cause baby, we’re fireproof.” Harry groans, dropping his forehead to Louis’.
“And everyone says I’m the sap,” he mutters. Louis laughs, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck and pecking his lips.
“You are.” His gaze turns serious again. “You really think we can move past it?”
“Yeah, I do,” Harry whispers, kissing Louis again. Louis grins against his lips and deepens the kiss, leaning into Harry. They break apart with quiet giggles and heavy breaths. “Niall might kill us if we fuck in his room.”
“And?”
“We should probably go talk to them about…”
“The hiatus,” Louis finishes. “Were you serious, Haz?” Harry bites his lip, eyes flicking over Louis’.
“Yeah, I was,” he says finally. “I- I think this can work, Lou. We wait until our contract runs up or Simon just quits.”
“Or dies,” Louis pipes in. Harry lets out a short laugh, but Louis quickly grows serious again. “We wouldn’t be in the band anymore.”
“We would,” Harry argues. “We’d just be… on a break.”
“For how long?”
“Until we can come back the way we want to.”
Louis takes a deep breath, staring into Harry’s eyes. “Ok. Let’s go talk to the others.” Harry smiles, a little sadly, and dips down to kis Louis.
“I love you so much,” he whispers softly.
“I love you, too.” Louis takes Harry’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Always.”
-
Five years, seven months, and some days later
“You ready, sunshine?” Louis asks, glancing at Harry. Both of them are nervous, though neither wants to admit it.
“Yeah,” Harry breathes out. “Yeah, I think so. You?”
“Let’s do this.”
“Well I’m bloody freaked,” Niall exclaims good-naturedly, arms slinging around their shoulders.
“Oh please,” Liam huffs from beside them. “We’ve done this a million times.”
“Yeah, but that was five years ago and almost entirely scripted,” Zayn points out.
“You’re on in two minutes,” a stagehand tells them. Harry thanks her quietly and she walks off.
“We’ve got this,” Niall says confidently. Zayn’s cool eyes cut into Harry and Louis.
“What about you two? You sure you’re ready to do this?” Louis and Harry exchange long looks and nervous, excited smiles.
“Yeah,” Harry breathes. “We’ve been waiting ten years. I think we’re ready.”
“‘S about bloody time!” Louis huffs with a small grin. Harry squeezes his hand, smiling lovingly.
“One minute!” someone warns.
“We’ve gone through a lot to get here,” Harry says quietly, gazing at Louis. He glances at the other boys. “All of us have.”
“Worth it?” Louis asks.
“For you?” Harry kisses him quickly as someone gives them the thirty second warning. “Always.”
“You’re on!” a voice calls. The boys take a deep, simultaneous breath.
“And to start off the New Year,” James Corden’s voice yells as the boys- men, now- start to walk out, “back after five long years, the one and onle, One Direction!” Screams fill their ears as they enter the stage, Louis’ grip tight on Harry’s hand and both of their smiles wide and nervous.
They’re back.