Work Text:
Louis switches off the telly with an irritated grunt. He flops backwards on the sofa and reaches for the bowl of popcorn he’d made. No matter how much he dislikes talent shows, he still watches them anyway. They’re addictive and the producers probably make them that way. Yeah, they definitely do.
Thing is, he hates how talent shows don’t seem to give two fucks about talent. What they’re looking for is entertainment; acts that will make the audience laugh out their lungs at the expense of people, bloody dramatics on TV that makes Louis’ nerves bubble on edge. It’s all too fabricated and ridiculous and really fucking unfair to people who are actually good at what they do and rarely ever get the chance to shine. They make their contestants play a game where they’re unaware of the cheating that occurs behind the scenes.
Louis has just finished watching Britain’s Got Talent, and is contemplating the logistics of reality shows. He remembers the vast number of vocal training classes he used to take as a child, the extra shifts his mum worked to pay for those, the effort and dedication he had put forth, and fifteen years later, he’s an assistant manager at a firm.
Yet, it feels like a waste. A waste of the years of training and the desperate dreams of owning a stage under bright lights and a cacophony of passionate screams; it all feels like the dregs in his tea mug now. It’s distasteful on his tongue, empty and plain boring.
Louis does not care though, not anymore He’s living a good life. Though he’ll admit that having three extra zeroes in his bank account and dining in ridiculously expensive restaurants would be nice, he’s content with fast food and the company of his annoying, loveable friends.
So he picks up his mobile from the coffee table and rings Niall. “Bring some Chinese,” he says as soon as Niall answers.
“Are you seriously calling me to bring you food?”
“Why else are you my friend?”
Niall groans from the other end but Louis knows it’s an affirmation. “Fine. Liam’s with me so we’re both coming.”
“Fine by me,” Louis replies.
A short while later his doorbell rings and Louis can’t be arsed to get up from the sofa, where he has burrowed himself into the cushions. There’ll probably be an indent when he stands up, warm and snug. The moss green sofa is the best purchase he has ever made at the charity shop.
“You opening up or what?” Niall yells through the door.
“You know where the extra key is, wanker!” Louis yells back. He eats the last few crisps from the bowl and watches the door. It swings open seconds later and Niall steps through, Liam close behind with bags in his hands.
“Hey, Lou,” Liam greets.
Louis waves his hand in the air nonchalantly. “Forego the greetings. Where are my dumplings?”
“Didn’t get any for you.” Niall rolls his eyes as he locks the door behind him.
Louis jumps out of his seat and reaches for the plastic bags Liam sets on the table. He sniffs the air, salivating at the aroma circling the room. “God, this is heaven.” Louis moans in delight as he pulls out a box of noodles for himself.
“The rice is for me.” Niall grabs a box and gives Louis the stink eye.
Liam on the other hand, calmly divides the dumplings and rolls, and pays no attention to their antics. “What were you up to before you decided to torture us?”
Louis kicks at Liam’s shin in retaliation. “What do you think?”
Liam hums. He chews on his noodles, pretending to think while Niall snorts from where he’s seated on the armchair beside them. “It’s Saturday, half past ten, BGT, obviously.”
Louis rolls his eyes at the both of them. “You two can take your cocky attitude out of my flat if you’re going to be dicks about it.”
Niall laughs and picks up the remote control. “It’s quite late to be up, innit?”
Louis huffs as he shovels a forkful of noodles into his mouth. “It’s not even that late and I’m an adult now.” He feels very confused and attacked when his friends turn to him with raised eyebrows. “What?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping early so you can pick your sister up from the airport tomorrow?” Liam asks.
For a moment Louis is frozen, eyes widening as he processes the information. “Shit!” He jumps off the sofa. “I completely forgot. Fuck, I’ve gotta call her.” He nearly falls as he places his food on the table and rushes to his bedroom. He yells a string of curses over his shoulder when Niall’s laughter echoes through the flat.
-
Stuffing the banner Niall had made him create, into his backpack, Louis hurries towards the waiting line. He’s not sure if the airport is so busy because it’s the summer holidays or it’s generally always busy. It’s not like he spends much of his time at the airport. It’s a clamour of sounds around him that he cannot pinpoint; the sound of luggage wheels rolling, intercoms coming to life, the distant sound of an airplane taking off. It feels like he’s walking through a Sunday market and those are the worst.
Louis pushes through the crowd in the waiting line till reaches the front. Being short is a pain because no one can see him when he’s at the back. Louis eagerly waits with his phone in hand, looking out for a head of blonde hair.
Ten minutes later, the enthusiasm of the line picks up and Louis spots the passengers who have just landed. He switches on his phone and sends a quick message to his sister. I’m here at the very front.
It feels like he’s been waiting hours when Louis can’t find any signs of his sister. It’s actually a bit worrying because did she board the flight? Did she miss the stop? Begrudgingly he pulls out the crumpled piece of cardboard that he stuffed in his backpack earlier and raises it in the air, Charlotte Tomlinson written bright and clear in black ink.
Eventually he spots his sister, grey tweed jacket in hand and tugging at the strap of the purple carry-on hanging from her shoulder. He waits for her to catch his eye before he waves. Her face lights up with delight when she spots the sign and she comes barrelling towards Louis.
“Oof! Hi, Lottie.” Louis grins into her hair as she squeezes him to death. “How was the flight?”
“Missed you so much.” She pulls back and smiles, “The flight was alright. Flying economy isn’t exactly luxurious, still has its perks though.”
“Don’t I know it.” Louis chuckles, “Lemme carry that for you.”
Lottie waves her hand in dismissal. “Nah. I’ve got it.”
“You’re tired, Lotts. Gimme that.” She doesn’t protest when Louis hefts the carry-on onto his shoulder. “Now let’s get something into our stomachs and you can tell me all about your internship.”
They casually walk and converse as the crowd carries them further inside the airport. Lottie walks faster than Louis does with her longer strides but she’s not so far away that Louis can’t hear her. As they walk away from the arrivals section, Louis pays no attention to the increase in activity that picks up behind them, it’s the airport after all: a little chaos is to be expected. Louis strains a little harder to listen to Lottie’s story about the time someone mistook her for a server at an event for all make-up artists that she had attended, and Louis laughs in response.
It happens in a flash that makes Louis’ head spin. His laughter dies in his throat as a body slams into him, registering the faint echo of excited screams close by. The force of the collision makes Louis’ vision tilt. He hits the floor just as the carry-on slips off his shoulder. Mere seconds later, his breath is knocked out of his chest as a solid weight falls right on top of him.
“Watch it pal!” Louis snaps as he shakes his head to clear his vision and wince at the pain that flares up his limbs. The other body scrambles off of him and Louis grits his teeth when the person’s knee digs into his side. Tuning out the string of apologies that fall from the man’s mouth, Louis picks up the carry-on when he feels like he can function again and stands up.
“I am so sorry. Oh god, shit!” Louis shrugs off the hands that fall on his shoulder in anger. “Are you okay?”
Louis whirls around ready to give a piece of his mind, instead choking sounds escape his lips when he comes face to face with none other than Harry Styles. The tall man tugs at his hat, head bowed as if he’s hiding from something or someone. Louis narrows his eyes at him, taking in the harried look Harry wears. “W-what—“ Louis starts in surprise, then sighs upon remembering how much he despises this arse. “I’m fine. Watch where you’re going next time.”
Louis turns around in hopes to find Lottie nearby but the waiting line has already dispersed. Panic grips at the thought of Lottie getting lost but then Louis remembers that it’s the twenty first century and they both have phones.
Louis startles when a large hand grabs him by the shoulder and coaxes him into walking. “Seriously, I’m really sorry.” Harry’s voice is deep and raspy, evidence he hasn’t spoken in a while. He has probably been asleep on his flight. “Can I—can I make it up to you, please?” His words come out in a rush and he keeps looking behind him. Louis follows Harry’s line of sight and spots the small of group of girls making their way towards them. Oh.
“It’s fine.” Louis shrugs off his hand again and power walks, but Harry catches up without much effort. Fuck him for having long legs.
“I want to.” Harry’s voice is firm and something about his tone riles Louis further than his mere presence has. “But can we get away from here first? I don’t want to be recognised by more people.” Louis rolls his eyes and huffs a displeased sigh but nods anyway. The sooner he gets rid of Harry, the better.
Harry finds a quiet place much faster than Louis can. A few older couples occupy the lounge; there are rows and rows of cushioned chairs against the walls and a water dispenser nearby. Harry dumps the brown duffle bag he’s carrying onto a chair and continues to hunch his form. If he tries to bend anymore he’s going to break his back but it’s none of Louis’ concern. Harry gradually raises his stare from the ground to rest on Louis’ face.
“I don’t have time to waste.” Louis says in irritation. “I’ve got to find my sister so get on with it.”
Harry’s face falls momentarily. He nods. “I really am sorry for crashing into you. I pissed you off--I get that. Can I make it up to you by treating you to lunch?”
“What?” Louis snorts. It’s still hard to believe. Harry Styles is making conversation with him, asking him out to lunch, and all eyes in the room are on them. Louis can feel it.
“You heard me,” Harry mumbles.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yes. Totally serious.”
Louis sighs, tapping his foot against the carpeted floor. “You’re being chased by fans and obviously seem to be in a hurry and you’re asking a random guy you knocked into, out for lunch? Is this what you do?”
“No I—“ Harry mouths, at a loss for words.
Louis shifts on his feet and takes a peek at his phone. There’s a text from Lottie with her location. “Meet me at four at The Ivy, buddy.” Louis pats Harry’s shoulder and slips out of there. He doesn’t even look back to see what Harry’s reaction is. If Harry wants he can come or not. Louis’ a hundred percent sure he won’t. Either way, Louis could go for a coffee or something.
-
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Louis thinks, as he stands huddled with his coat wrapped tight around him against the spitting rain. He hadn’t even made a reservation and now he’s standing beneath the awning of The Ivy. It’s twenty past four and Harry’s still not here. It’s a good thing Louis didn’t make a reservation then, since he hasn’t even entertained the thought of leaving.
He sighs and shuffles over to the side as he watches people enter and leave the restaurant. The soft yellow lights, the cosy booths and the warm air that sneaks out whenever someone opens the door is inviting. Louis’ teeth chatter from the cold.
He pulls out his phone and fiddles with it, wondering if he should text a friend to pick him up or call for a taxi, when a black Range Rover pulls in front of the restaurant. Louis squints at the sight, unsure as to why it looks familiar.
He should’ve guessed when the driver comes around with an umbrella and Harry, clad in dark skinny jeans, a shirt and jacket, steps out right underneath it. Louis grits his teeth, tugging the sleeves of his coat so they cover his hands. He’d worn his tightest pair of jeans and now his crotch is suffocating.
“Hi.” Harry towers over him. He pulls off his green beanie and runs a hand through his hair to fix it into something presentable. Louis watches the car pull away over Harry’s shoulder. “Um—shall we go inside?” Louis follows Harry’s hand when he extends it towards the door.
“I didn’t make a reservation.”
“It’s okay. I did.”
“Oh.” The word hangs in Louis’ mouth but he follows Harry, form hunched over and head bowed like a cowering prey, as usual. It’s like Harry’s trying to curl into himself like a hedgehog would. It’s not as if there are paps hiding in the bushes at this hour outside the restaurant. It makes no sense to Louis but he holds his tongue in fear of saying the wrong thing.
Harry continues to keep his head low, beanie covering most of his face and ears, as he states a fake name to the receptionist for their table.
“Matt Green? Seriously?” Louis asks once they’ve seated themselves.
Harry shrugs, leaning against the wall. “I don’t want people finding out where I am.” Louis makes a face that Harry doesn’t catch. They’re seated in the worst place in the restaurant, far away from everyone else and the lighting is dim and it feels dingy. Louis doesn’t complain as long as he’s getting free food. He doesn’t even bother making conversation, content to simply watch the tired man in front of him. It seems as if Harry’s trying his best to keep his head up.
“So um, you never told me your name.”
“It’s Louis.”
“You don’t have a last name?” It’s meant as a joke but Harry’s voice just sounds heavy and laboured so it falls flat.
Louis narrows his eyes at Harry because he’s not sure if he should trust him. “Louis Tomlinson.”
“I’m Harry Styles.”
“I know.” Louis snorts. Harry frowns.
“So, um, you mentioned a sister.” Harry says after a couple of minutes tick by. “At the airport.” Louis hums in reply. “What’s her name?”
“Charlotte.”
“Is she your older sister?”
“No. Younger by seven years. Got five more.”
Harry’s eyes widen. “Sisters?”
“Five sisters, one brother.” Louis keeps his gaze fixed on Harry as he answers. Harry, however, doesn’t look him in the eyes for long, fidgeting in his seat and casting glances towards the door as if he wants to make a run for it.
“I have an older sister.” Louis wants to say he knows again, but in all honesty he really doesn’t want to scare the lad off. He doesn’t want this to end; as much as the encounter is kind of making him uncomfortable, he’s interested to see where all of this is leading, to get a glimpse into Harry’s world.
Louis bites his tongue and nods for Harry to continue. Harry seems like he’s bursting to say anything to fill the stifling silence. “She’s twenty-seven and engaged. I’m constantly in awe of her; she’s my favourite person in the world. She’s a journalist. Harry’s eyes go soft as he speaks and Louis isn’t sure if the star is talking to him or if he’s reminiscing. “But she’s looking for a job in the sciences. I’m from Holmes Chapel by the way, though we don’t have our house there anymore. Y-of course you know all that.” Harry suddenly lets out a forced chuckle and drops his eyes to his lap before raising them back up to meet Louis’ gaze. “Where are you from?”
“Doncaster.” As much as his chatty personality is dying to make an appearance, Louis doesn’t want to make this a particularly pleasant encounter for Harry. Though he may be second-guessing his decision just a tad bit. His feelings are very conflicted.
Louis watches as Harry nods, perhaps waiting for him to say more and when he realises Louis isn’t going to, he focuses his attention onto the menu.
They’re silent until the waiter comes for their orders. Louis orders a rib eye on the bone along with a mocha tiramisu for dessert. They eat and drink in relative silence too aside from the sound of cutlery meeting ceramic and the faint buzz of chatter amongst the customers.
Honestly it’s Harry who makes no effort. He looks like a dead man walking and Louis has no idea why he’s putting himself through this. Harry doesn’t look like he wants to be here. Louis on the other hand simply does not care. He’s not even sure what he wants to talk about, with Harry Styles to begin with. He keeps glancing at Harry every now and then, feeling his ears turn red whenever he gets caught staring.
Harry is, simply put, very attractive, Louis will give him that. Despite his bedraggled look, his sharp jawline, sinfully red lips, broad shoulders and his dishevelled hair work well for him. If Louis were to present himself like this, he’d be mistaken for a homeless man.
When they leave the restaurant, Louis expects that to be it, their encounter, their empty conversations, their meeting, that will be the first and last. He expects to call a taxi home while Harry rides back to whatever oversized mansion he lives in, in that fancy car of his.
What he doesn’t expect is for Harry to tug him by the hand and run across the road to a waiting taxi. Louis barely gets any words out over the sound of the pelting rain, hands over his head, feet splashing in puddles.
“What the hell?” Louis breathes when they pile inside the warm vehicle.
Harry turns around from the passenger seat with an apologetic look. “Sorry.” He mumbles. “I got us tickets.”
“For what?” Louis frowns as he buttons his jacket. It’s mildly wet and it’s going to make his skin cold but at the same time he needs the warmth.
“The cinema.”
Louis opens his mouth to say what the hell again but he clamps it shut till they arrive at the place.
Louis watches the way Harry keeps up his cowering posture as they approach the popcorn stand. The sight in itself is so painful that Louis feels compelled to order for them. Which he does. Grabbing the few five-pound notes out of Harry’s hand, Louis orders two medium buckets of popcorn and cokes.
“You’re gonna love it.” Harry says in a gruff voice, looking over the tickets. “The movie is amazing.”
“Are we watching that movie of yours then?” Louis mocks. “What was it called? The soldier who never stops swimming?”
“Heeey.” Harry protests with an affronted look. “I would like to think that I did really well as a debut actor in that movie.”
“Of course you think that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh nothing.” Louis plays innocent, adding a shrug in nonchalance. He catches Harry falter in his steps, find his footing and continue walking just a tad bit too fast. Louis bites his lip in guilt. He wishes he could swallow his tongue right then. “What are we watching anyway?”
“Uh—“ Harry reads over the tickets as if he didn’t already know what film they’re going to watch. Louis would give him a hard time about it except for the reminder that he has already made their conversations uncomfortable. ”P-power rangers?”
Louis nearly laughs and immediately catches himself. “What! Isn’t that a kid’s movie?”
“It’s not.” There’s a hint of protest in Harry’s words. “Well, it’s for everyone but it’s a good film, I’ve heard. You’ll like it.”
“Fine, pop star. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”
Harry has gotten them seats furthest away from the screen. By now Louis feels like everything Harry does is a test of his character. Louis hates sitting so far from the screen because 1) He forgot his contacts. And 2) Their area floods with light whenever someone enters or leaves by the door beside them, it’s a distraction.
Halfway through the film, Louis realises how much he loves it. The action gets him going, the storyline has him intrigued. Consciously, Louis turns to check on Harry who surprisingly doesn’t seem to be as absorbed in the film as Louis expected him to be. Harry is thumbing at his phone.
It irritates Louis every time Harry’s phone buzzes between them and Harry pulls it out and the entire screen lights up, ruining Louis’ setting. Louis wants to snap at him. He grips the armrest instead and sucks angrily at his coke. Once or twice, Harry leaves for the toilet, looking more pale and weathered each time he returns. Louis gradually begins to feel worried about him. Harry walks and acts as if his soul has been sucked dry or something.
Though it goes against The Rules of Cinema-going, as defined by Louis William Tomlinson, to speak during a film, he nudges Harry with his elbow and whispers. “You okay?”
Harry startles, hand slipping off the hand rest. “Yeah.” He breathes. “Why do you care?” Louis assumes that last line was meant to have been a mumble but he hears it anyway and he’s irritated by it.
“Sorry for caring.” He grunts.
Harry sits up where he’d been slipping lower in his seat. “No. Shit, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re not having a good time.”
“What? No.” Louis says, taken aback. “You’re the one who’s been dragging your feet the entire time.”
“I—“ Their gazes lock in the dark as Harry fish mouths. Louis quirks a brow, waiting for the inevitable lame excuse Harry is about to spout. Harry’s shoulders slump and he falls back into his seat, barely empty popcorn box held limp in his hand. “I’m sorry. You must think badly of me and it’s entirely my fault. I haven’t made any attempt to make proper conversation, or been fun at all.”
Louis suddenly feels really fucking guilty. He wants to reach over and pet Harry till the feeling subsides. God, what’s wrong with this kid? He has never seen Harry like this but then again, nothing on the telly is as genuine as they make it out to be.
“It’s okay.” You did try talking to me Louis wants to say. He touches Harry’s arm. “We can leave if you want.”
“No. I don’t want you to think I’m doing this because I have to.” The edge of determination in Harry’s voice feels like the most positive thing that’s happened this entire time. “You’re gorgeous and that’s all I seem to know about you but I really wanted to have a good time with you.”
“But what happened?” Louis’ hands go clammy at the thought that it might be him.
“It’s work.” Harry sighs, turning his phone in his hands.
“Do you have to go?” Louis hopes his disappointment doesn’t show through his brittle tone.
“I should but I won’t.” Harry shakes his head. “I’ve been working thirteen hours a day, six days a week.”
Louis’ eyebrows disappear into his hairline from how shocked he is. “Are you serious?”
Harry hums. “They wanted me to come in today. I kind of snuck out.”
“Will you get into trouble for this?”
“Probably.” Despite his offhand shrug, Louis sees a glimpse of Harry’s worried look via the screen light. “I’ll handle it.”
Louis can’t help being curious. He just needs to know. “Is that why you look so dead on your feet? Because you’ve been working non stop?”
Harry’s cheeks redden under the faint light as if he’s embarrassed. “Yeah. Interviews and meetings and stuff.”
“I would’ve been in a proper strop if I were you.” Louis’ tone is laced with awe and normally Louis would be ashamed of that. But here he is, sitting beside the man he used to pretend to despise, realising how wrong he was.
Harry chuckles. Louis smiles at the soft, sweet sound of it. “Rebelling is kind of fun but the lecture that comes after that? Not so much.
“Oh yeah? Do tell me what rebellious things you’ve been up to. Are you referring to those times when you gently trash someone’s dressing room?”
The brief sound of a honking laugh escapes Harry’s lips right before he clamps his palms against his mouth. “You saw that?”
Louis shrugs. It was one time. This Is Me was a suggested movie on his Netflix account, Louis couldn’t help himself. “What matters is that you fail at being defiant.”
“Nooo.” Harry drags the word. “I once left my hotel room past midnight to meet a group of fans when they explicitly asked me not.”
Louis feels his face screw up as he bites down on a smile. Harry’s an idiot, a wonderful idiot. “Oh boy! I do wonder how bad breaking that rule must have been.”
“Pretty bad.” Harry hums as if he can tell that Louis’ teasing him. “Wouldn’t let me out of their sight for like a week. Had bodyguards outside my door and everything.”
“Didn’t it drive you mad?”
“I’m an indoor kind of person most of the time.”
Louis hums in understanding.
“This one time, right after a show I stole Paul, my bodyguard’s car so I could go watch Bon Jovi in concert.”
“That’s so pretentious and not exciting at all.” Louis keeps his tone soft, he doesn’t even have to try anymore, and pokes Harry’s arm. Harry’s just plain ridiculous and Louis finds himself grinning far too much. He’s glad the theatre is dark.
Harry slaps away his hand and continues eagerly. “Oh. Oh this one time I was dared to get up on the bar and twerk.”
“Still doesn’t count, Curly.” Louis’ going to burst out laughing any moment and they’re both going to get kicked out. “Maybe just a tiny bit.” He pinches his fingers in demonstration though neither of them can see his hand.
Harry’s laugh is light. He turns away and rests his head against the seat. “Another time, I snuck out of rehearsals and took a taxi to the Great Ormond Street Hospital.”
Louis turns in his seat, frowning. “That’s not good, Harry, skipping rehearsals. Who were you visiting?”
“I know.” He hears Harry exhale and slip lower in his seat. “It…gets exhausting. And I just—I like spending time with sick kids. T-there’s something so incredible about them, I don’t know. I like making them happy and not all of them know who I am. It’s nice to be that person who cheers them up and have fun with them.” Harry shrugs again. “It’s something I enjoy doing. It reminds me to be young again.”
“Are you complaining, Styles?” It’s meant to be a joke but Harry seems to take it literally. “Besides you’re not that old.”
Harry shakes his head, turning to face Louis, who catches the wide-eyed look on his face. “No. No. I love my job. I love performing. It’s the one thing I look forward to amidst the chaos, you know.” Louis doesn’t have the heart to stop him and explain that he was initially joking. “I-I’m not complaining. I love my job. It’s my passion. When everything else gets too much, I have to keep myself sane you know.” Louis doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything about what it’s like being a celebrity and he’d usually think that everything that fell out of their mouths is bullshit but he believes Harry, now. He can tell a person like Harry could never fake genuineness, not when he looks like he’s crumpling under pressure. Louis is surprised by himself tonight.
Harry is blindly trusting him with something so personal. Louis doesn’t know if that’s what Harry does, unloading on strangers, or if Louis just comes off as a trustworthy person. But if there’s one thing Louis is, it’s loyal and reliable. “I’m sorry you have so much on your plate and I’m sorry I’ve been giving you a hard time.” He pats Harry’s arm. “We can have a nice conversation after the film, maybe a bit of a stroll and try not getting caught by your fans, I guess.”
“Well, you have been snarky.” Louis can already picture the grin on Harry’s face. “So I will accept that apology.”
Louis shakes his head in amusement. He takes a long sip of his coke, places it back in the holder and rests his arm on the armrest.
“I would really like that, Louis.” Harry says softly. “To talk to you, I mean.”
They turn their attention back to the film they’ve missed a good quarter of.
When Louis’ done with his popcorn, he sneaks his hand over to steal from Harry’s and Harry pretends to weakly protest. The box ends up in the holder between them. They start leaning closer to each other as the minutes tick by. Louis feels the urge to run his fingers over Harry’s arm when their shoulders bump. Harry places his hand on the armrest too, beside Louis’ and the smile that grows on Louis’ lips is threatening to split his face.
Harry starts inching his pinky finger towards Louis’ hand. He’s not subtle at all. Louis tangles his pinky with Harry’s, then.
Towards the end of the film, Harry’s the one who picks up his hand and laces their fingers.
-
Louis startles awake to the doorbell ringing. He wipes at his mouth just in case and runs his fingers through his hair before he opens the door. His eyes fall on Harry dressed in a grey hoodie and track bottoms. “Love it when you dress casual.” Louis pulls him in by the jumper.
Harry chuckles and closes the door behind him. “Were you asleep?”
“What gave it away?” Louis pats at his face self-consciously.
“I know what you look like when you wake up, Lou.” Harry leans in close to kiss him. Louis grins into the kiss, glides a hand down Harry’s back and pinches his bum.
Harry squeaks and jumps away. “Arse.”
“Are you sneaking out of something important again?” Louis looks tilts his head to stare at his boyfriend.
Harry’s eyes crinkle. “Actually I have a week off. And I’m going to spend it with you.” He seals it with a kiss. Louis grins and pulls away.
“I can’t cook so pizza sound good to you or are you too good for junk food?”
Harry laughs with a shake of his head. “Pizza sounds great.” Louis’ relieved Harry can tell when he’s just teasing, now.
Louis walks over to the sofa to find his phone nestled between the cushions and turns around, facing the telly still running on mute. Harry’s hand stops him when he reaches for the remote. “You watch the X Factor?” Harry gasps. Disbelief is written all over his face. “Louis, you were watching a talent show!”
“For god’s sake, Haz.” Louis groans, embarrassed to have been caught in the act. “Maybe I like watching it and judging them okay? Mind your own damn business.”
“But, Lou.” Harry comes over to grasp him by the shoulders. Louis doesn’t like that twinkle in his eye. It can only mean one thing. Harry’s going to use this against him at some point in their lives. “This is ground-breaking! The critic has a guilty pleasure.”
“You remember something I mentioned like one time. Shut up!” Louis grumbles and flaps a hand at Harry and, in a flash, he ruffles Harry’s hair into an unruly mess. Harry’s fringe falls over and curls in his face. Louis ignores Harry’s amused laugh as he heads to the kitchen to order pizza.
When he returns, Harry is stripped down to his white t-shirt still in his trackies and lying comfortably on his back on the sofa. His hoodie is draped over the sofa’s arm. “You wanna change the channel?” Louis gestures towards the telly.
“Leave it.” Harry pats his lap, beckoning Louis over with his hand. “Come cuddle.”
Louis pretends it’s an arduous feat with an exaggerated, heavy sigh, secretly loving the way Harry’s arms wrap around him. Harry nuzzles into his neck, breathing deeply. “I’ve missed this.”
“Just the fourth date mister.” Louis tuts. “Don’t wanna come off too clingy.”
“Never too clingy for you.” He giggles and squirms when Harry blows into his neck. “So…why do you watch talent shows if you hate them so much?”
Louis sighs in resignation. He’d been hoping to avoid this particular conversation. “It’s not so much that I hate them.” He props his chin on Harry’s chest. “I don’t like how it’s all rehearsed.”
Harry hums, bringing a hand to comb through Louis’ fringe. “What’s it got to do with loathing me though?”
Louis snorts, catching Harry’s hand so he can lace their fingers together. “I don’t loathe you.”
“Now that you’ve met me.”
“I never did.”
Harry frowns. “Were you faking it then that time at the airport and that first time we went out? You looked like you were ready to pounce. Did a pretty good job of convincing me you hated me then.”
Louis shrugs. “Kinda. I auditioned once on the X Factor.” Harry’s eyes widen and Louis hurries to finish speaking before Harry can say anything. “You were on the panel. Three firm No’s - rejected just like that after all those years of training, and I knew I was good. It made no sense. T’was probably the garbage stage persona.” Louis keeps his voice passive so Harry won’t recognise the hurt he feels at not being good enough.
“Wh-“ Louis laughs when Harry can’t seem to get any words out.
“Don’t try to come up with some lame excuse.”
“No. What did you sing?”
“Hey There Delilah.”
“I remember you.” Harry whispers. Staring so close at Harry’s face, the sharp green of his eyes gleaming, Louis feels hypnotised.
“You do?”
“I can’t believe I did that to you.” Harry speaks so softly, as if he’s afraid of breaking something. Louis lifts himself up to kiss Harry, drawing a smile out of the other man. “Your audition was amazing. I remember being blown away.”
“Then why did you say no?”
Harry’s smile falls and he looks away as if it’s causing him pain to look at Louis. “I was stressed, and working tirelessly. I was naïve, and still figuring everything out and I was trying to fit in. I-I was barely qualified to be on that panel but they put me there anyway because I’m Harry Styles. I’m Harry Styles the teen heartthrob - connected to every woman I’m seen with, the party animal, and the hottest male of the year or some bullshit like that. Most of the time I feel like I’m this thing they’ve created instead of a person. It’s not about my music or my dedication to work or how much I love spending time with my friends or the fact that I’m incredibly clumsy and the worst joker. None of it is about me.”
“You are the worst at jokes.” Louis quietly interrupts to say. He pokes Harry’s dimple for effect till a smile stretches across his lips.
“That was the worst year in all my career. I had to go home for a month because I couldn’t take it anymore. I honestly thought about quitting. I was barely even a person at that point. I just jumped through all the hoops they told me to and tried to make everything easier. I’m so sorry I did that to you.”
“No.” Louis’ voice comes out thickly. “It’s in the past now.” He brings up their hands to kiss the back of Harry’s. “I remember watching you as a contestant, making your way through one live show to the next. It was incredible. You were brilliant and impressive. You have such raw talent and you were charming. I kind of had a crush on you back then. And then they just—“
“They rigged it.” Harry answers for him.
“I guessed as much.” Louis bites his lip as he thinks it over. “Now you see why I don’t like what they do, all this planning and rigging and faking.”
Harry nods. “I worked hard, Lou, to get to where I am today. I let them play me like a fiddle as I crawled my way through the industry to figure myself out. I’ve gotten some semblance of control over my career now and it’s honestly relieving and it’s good to not have to be on the verge of constant panic attacks.”
Louis kisses him twice in quick succession. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that at such a young age. You’re so strong, and I find it admirable that you kept going despite what they kept throwing at you and you’re an amazing advocate for the LGBT+ community.” Harry beams at that. “So you don’t have to keep explaining yourself to me. I don’t hate you, Haz.”
“I know. I feel really bad though. I'm so sorry. I mean it.”
“It’s done with. I’m not bitter about that anymore.”
“Maybe you should try auditioning again.” Harry’s eyes light up with his suggestion. “You’ve still got it, if those shower renditions are anything to go by.”
Louis slaps at his chest. “Not a word of that to any of my friends.”
Harry wiggles his eyebrows. “Is that a threat?”
“Maybe.” Louis sticks his tongue out at Harry who leans forward to touch it with his own. “Ew, Harry!” Harry laughs, pulling him closer. He wraps his hands securely around Louis just as the doorbell rings. “There’s the pizza guy.”
Louis pays the delivery guy and sets about opening the large pizza box while Harry brings out two cans of soda. They settle back on the sofa, sitting up straight so they don’t spill anything on the sofa by lying down, and cuddle into each other.
“It’s really—“ Louis gestures to the show on the telly and makes a hand motion in the air as he tries to find the right words. “Fascinating? Yeah. It’s fascinating ‘cause all these people just come to follow their passions and half of them with no talent end up making it through to the end, all for the sake of entertainment.”
“Sometimes they end up making a career.”
“Yeah.” Louis nods. “Wonder what that’s like.”
Harry chuckles into his hair. “Don’t get me started.” Louis smiles up at him. He feels like he could survive on just Harry day and night. His company alone makes Louis feel like he has everything. He tilts his head and presses their greasy lips together.