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at three and a half and five
“Hawwy,” the little boy says, sucking his thumb and blinking his big green eyes. “’M Hawwy.” (he’s all of three and a half years old and his mum says that he’s a big boy and he can do anything, so he’s going to tell this older boy his name)
“Well, Hawwy,” the other boy says, imitating him and talking in a baby voice, “I’m Louis and I’m five.” The and I’m bigger than you hangs in the air. “How old are you?”
Harry’s big eyes fill with tears but he blinks against them, determined not to be the kind of kid that runs away and cries to his mama. “Thwee and a half,” he enunciates carefully, holding up four fingers.
Louis scoffs. “You can’t even count three. This is three, Harry,” he snorts unkindly, holding up three fingers. “Three.”
More tears fill Harry’s eyes and overflow onto his cheeks. His bottom lip trembles.
“Aw, is the little baby crying?” Louis teases, reveling in the power that he has over the ‘baby.’
(harry blinks away his tears and looks somberly up at louis until the older child gives up and hugs harry very quickly.)
***
at four and six and a half
“I’m starting school next week,” Harry states importantly, lying on his bed sideways with his head and shoulders hanging off the edge, back curving to meet the bed frame.
Louis just looks at him from where he’s playing with his red Power Ranger on the floor, because Louis is a man and Louis has been in school for two and a half years and Louis is above replying to those who have not started school yet.
“Is it scary?” And Harry blinks at him from his upside-down position with those great big green eyes and Louis gives in.
“Not really. Well, the first day is, but if you make friends, it’s not that bad.”
“Will you be my friend?”
(louis almost says no, but this is harry we’re talking about, and louis has never been able to say no to him, not when he pulls the puppy eyes out)
“Okay.”
***
at five and a half and seven
Louis skips out onto the playground only to see Harry attempting to pole-dance on the swingset. Swing-dance. Whatever. “Whatcha doing?” he asks, frowning as Harry attempts a rather complicated looking move (which ends with his arse in the sand. Louis laughs).
“I’m pole dancing, Louis,” Harry explains slowly, like it’s not so very obvious. “’M giving them a show.”
“Giving who a show?”
Harry stops attempting to gyrate against the slanting pole (Louis will never look at it in the same way again) long enough to point at a gaggle of five to eight-year-old girls who are giggling hysterically, cheeks red as they watch Harry’s exhibition. “They dared me to.”
Louis rolls his eyes, because really. Girls. And Harry. They should all just have an org…orgee…orgie? together. Orgy. (He thinks. He doesn’t know what an orgy is, just that it’s not something he really wants to go about doing.) “G’on then,” he says, because he sort of likes the way Harry looks when he attempts to get into it. (Like Harry’s mum’s cat, Dusty, when she rubs up against their couch, all concentration and fluff. The similarities between Harry and Harry’s cat are really quite disconcerting, if you ask Louis.)
Harry continues to shimmy against the pole, and then gets around to licking it, which results in one of the audience becoming fairly disturbed (it’s not for the faint-hearted, is it, Jasmine) and blabbing to the teacher.
(Harry and Louis are both grounded for a month. Louis whines about it and is told that because he was an accomplice, he must serve the same sentence. He protests that he was “merely a bystander, mum, really,” and gets a slap to his arse for his trouble. He decides he doesn’t like Harry anymore.)
(harry blinks pleadingly at louis when they get back to school the next day and louis can’t say no, so there’s that)
***
at nine and ten and a half
“Taylor likes me,” Harry tells Louis solemnly, sucking at his ice lolly intensely.
“Oh?” Louis asks, mostly disinterested. At ten and a half, he still likes footy more than he’ll ever like any girl. He’s (mostly) sure of that. He likes girls though. Girls are cool. They’re proper nice-looking and they’ve got boobs. And things that guys stick their dicks in (or so he’s seen from the porn that Niall was watching the other day. He got a hard on and everything and he couldn’t make it go down until he thought about dead, mangled cats in his bed). He’s sure they’ve got other uses other than giggling madly over shiny-haired popstars (twinks, the lot of them, or so his dad says. The popstars, not the girls), though. He’s just not aware of them yet.
“Yeah. She came up to me last period and said that I was proper handsome and she’d like to snog me.”
“The hell? She’s eleven, which means that next year she’ll be in high school. She’s tryna have you on,” Louis snorts, flicking through the TV channels for something to watch that’s not boring.
Something catches Harry’s eye before he can reply, and he wrestles Louis for the remote. “Pingu! Pingu’s on. Gimme!”
“Why d’ya even like that stupid show, it’s – "
“Give it, Louis!”
“No, that show’s for babies,” Louis snipes with his nose in the air, holding the remote far, far away from Harry’s significantly smaller body.
“Louis!” Harry admonishes, still grappling for the remote. “Please?” He sticks out his bottom lip and brings out the puppy eyes, and Louis is so done.
(they end up watching pingu and harry snuggles into louis’ side and louis won’t admit it but he secretly loves watching pingu, if only because harry loves it)
(harry tells him later that he did snog taylor, but he had to stand on a brick because he couldn’t reach her face. louis laughs for ages. harry pouts)
***
at eleven and twelve and a half
Louis Tomlinson has just had his first kiss.
He thinks it was quite weird, really, because everyone goes on about it and how it’s life changing or whatever, but it felt nothing like they said it would, so he’s really quite disappointed by the outcome.
(He tells Harry this.)
Harry nods wisely, even though he doesn’t know shit about kissing (well, maybe he does. Louis hasn’t really kept track of all the girls’ Harry’s kissed, because to be perfectly honest, there have been a lot of them). “I think it’s the person that matters,” Harry says slowly, blinking up at Louis like he always does. “It’s better if you like the person and the person likes you back.”
Louis frowns, because that makes no sense. “I like her,” he defends himself. “I’m pretty sure she likes me.”
Harry grins, dimples flirting with his cheeks. “Then it was probably, like. The wrong angle. Or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” says Louis, brushing it off.
(they play fifa later and louis’ mum finds them asleep with harry’s head in louis’ lap. she smiles and doesn’t wake them up)
***
at thirteen and a half and fifteen
Harry’s noticed that Louis has become irritable.
Louis is always irritable, but he’s normally very sunny before you annoy him, and all Harry sees is Louis snapping at everyone and getting fifteen billion detentions a day, and his girlfriend, Hannah, has come up to Harry and asked him if he knew what was wrong with her boyfriend, to which he shrugged, because he knows fuck all about Louis when Louis is proper mad.
(Privately, Harry thinks that Louis is proper cute when he’s mad, though, because he gets all moody and he likes to wear his dark-colored hoodies and slump over and Harry just wants to hug the angry out of him. He probably shouldn’t tell Lou that, though. Not while he’s ready to punch someone.)
Harry corners Louis the next day (Louis has been trying to avoid him for whatever reason) in the toilets and asks him what’s going on.
Louis looks at him, eyes cold and sharp, and Harry shrinks away, because Harry’s still in first form and Louis is in third form and it’s very different and Louis is very superior and Harry’s just a teeny bit scared of his best friend, okay? “None of your business,” Louis snaps, voice cutting, and Harry steps back quickly.
“I just want to know what’s going on,” he says, voice shaking, and he sees Louis’ face soften infinitesimally for one beat before it hardens again and Louis pushes past him, a cold rush of wind that leaves Harry confused and sad.
Louis will tell him when he’s good and ready, he’s sure of that.
(but right now, harry is just a thirteen year old who wants his best friend back)
***
at thirteen and a half and fifteen
Louis is sprawled out on the bed in Harry’s room by the time he gets up the stairs.
“Wha –”
“’M sorry I was an arse,” Louis blurts before Harry can finish the word, much less the sentence concerning how Louis got into his room. (Harry doesn’t want to know.) “Dad pulled a runner, and…” he trails off, running a hand over his face. “Mum’s a mess, and the girls want to know if he’s coming back, and I’ve been trying to tell them, but it’s hard.” He looks so weary, so tired, and Harry can see the stress lines on his forehead, so he drops his school bag and rushes over to Louis, hugging him tightly as he sobs into his school shirt (probably staining it, but who cares?).
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Harry mumbles nonsensically. “You’re okay, Lou, you’re okay, ya hear me?”
Louis sniffs in response, burrowing into Harry’s chest. (Harry doesn’t complain.)
(louis gets significantly more sunny after he tells harry. turns out that was all he needed.)
***
at fourteen and fifteen and a half
They’re just sitting in Louis’ room with their backs to his bed, and Harry is waiting.
(Louis hasn’t said a word since he grabbed Harry’s hand on the bus and dragged him out at his stop.)
“I like boys,” Louis says into the roaring silence, and Harry freezes.
“What?”
“I. What I said.” Louis is looking everywhere, at his hands, at the floor – anywhere but Harry.
Harry lets the revelation sink in for a bit before throwing his arms around Louis.
“Ow – Haz – can’t breathe,” Louis chokes, but he’s smiling as Harry plants a sloppy one on his cheek.
(louis can’t stop grinning after that, and harry thinks that he’s radiant like the sun, and harry’s the nearest planet, drawn to him like a paperclip is to a magnet)
***
at fifteen and sixteen and a half
Harry thinks knows he’s in love with Louis.
He realizes this after he tries way too hard to make Louis laugh but Louis laughs anyway and ruffles his hair and calls him adorable and Harry preens, he fucking preens at that, and he realizes a second later that he’s as whipped as the cream atop the cake. (Niall laughs for ages when Harry tells him this, but Niall actually never stops laughing, so there’s that, and Zayn just looks at him somberly before looking back down at his book without saying anything, so the two of them are obviously a fuckton of help.)
(Zayn’s extremely manly fitness trainer boyfriend (no, really, he’s terrifying and he’s got washboard abs and biceps that just pop out at you), Liam, claps him on the shoulder (which, ow) and tells him to man up and tell Louis. Harry glares at Liam, which is counterproductive because Zayn starts cooing. Liam makes Zayn a sappy mess. He hates the two of them.)
Louis, on the other hand, can tell that something’s the matter with Harry and tries to push him into saying what’s wrong, but Harry is a stubborn fuck who wants to pine over his newfound crush from afar, apparently. (He realizes this. He just wants to bide his time.)
(harry pines over louis miserably as louis gets fucked into the mattress by jocks from school who call him faggot and twink and pretty boy by day)
***
at sixteen and a half and eighteen
Louis is off to university (to study Drama and become a teacher or one of those noble careers) and Harry is still pining.
(Niall texts him to ‘htfu man ur gettin unbearable !!!’ but obviously he never takes advice from anyone, and yes he passed his GCSEs with flying colors and got all his A Levels but he’s far too scared of wrecking his and Louis’ friendship to do anything about it.)
So Harry drives Louis up to uni and wishes him all the best and helps him move his things into his dorm room (his roommate’s name is Tom Daley and they get along like a house on fire) and drives back up to his house and calls a girl that he sometimes fucks (the relationship is mutual) and they go at it ‘til three am and his mum is banging on the ceiling.
(she confronts him the next morning and he tells her about louis and how he feels and he says he might be pan(sexual) or maybe just louis-sexual and she hugs him and tells him he’s her son no matter what, and he cries, just a little)
***
at seventeen and eighteen and a half
Today Louis comes back for holidays, and Harry is going to tell him. (That is, if he doesn’t wimp out.)
Harry is going to confess his love for Lou or something equally romantic and dramatic and spectacular. There are going to be fireworks and everything. (Okay, there aren’t going to be fireworks, because it’s the middle of the afternoon. So sue him.)
He’s in the middle of rehearsing what he’s going to say when – "Hazza, babe, are you talking to yourself?”
“Lou!” Harry shouts in pure joy before tripping over his own feet in his haste to open his bedroom door and oh.
Louis is beautiful.
Harry didn’t realize how much he missed Louis until he actually saw him again, which. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he blurts out, because of course he is incapable of actually saying ‘hi’ like a normal person.
“Hi,” Louis smiles up at him (yes, Harry is taller now, but he’ll tease Louis about that later). “And no.”
“Oh, good,” says Harry, rehearsed speech flying out the window. “Because I love you.” He looks nervously at Louis, who is staring at him, wide-eyed.
‘’s a bit early for that, innit?” he says, and Harry looks at him, smiles, and then Louis drops his bags on the floor and reaches up to cradle Harry’s face in his small hands, and then they’re kissing.
Harry is in heaven.
(louis thinks about how long he’s wanted harry for and wonders how long harry’s wanted him back but it doesn’t actually matter, does it?)