Archive of Our Own

He overheard the whispers first, the words slipping in and out of the pounding bass that accompanied the flashing strobe lights in the smoky club.

“Messy breakup. . .”

“Just walked out. . .”

“Not a word. . . No phone call. . . No note…  Nothing.”

“ . . . came home to an empty flat . . . everything gone”

The group of women in the booth across from him twittered amongst themselves, shooting furtive glances over their shoulders toward the bar in between each whispered utterance, as if checking to make sure the subject of their conversation wasn’t close enough to overhear.

Louis Tomlinson picked at the label on the bottle in front of him, his thin fingers making short work of the ragged paper, while shaking his head.

Typical.

It seemed the Friday night gossip mill was alive and thriving at Bouys.

Waving off the waitress that drifted past the table, her eyebrows raised in a silent question, Louis slipped closer to the edge of the booth, curious to see who the latest topic of conversation centered around. He craned his neck, hoping for a better glance, only to have his line of vision cut off by a plaid shirt casually tied around a pair of narrow hips.

“Tommo! Whatcha doing hiding in the corner?”

Louis smiled to himself, dragged his eyes away from the commotion near the bar and looked up into the bright-eyed, cheerful face of the man in front of him.

“Who says I’m hiding, Leemo?” Louis settled back against the booth, only half paying attention to his best friend. He lifted his beer bottle, and tilted it toward his friend. “Just working up a little pre-game drinking before we take over the dance floor, aren’t I?”

Liam Payne, Louis’ oldest friend, leaned against the wall beside the booth, his own beer twisting in his hand. Louis shifted under the stare Liam leveled at him, his eyes sliding away toward the bar again, his natural curiosity getting the better of him.

“You’re on the prowl,” Liam observed, a slight smirk curving his generous mouth.

“Where’s your other half?” Louis deflected, while his eyes combed the bar, trying to pinpoint who the women had been talking about.

“At the bar with Harry.”

Louis’ attention shot back to Liam, idle curiosity vanquished for the time being.

“Harry? He’s here?” Louis queried, his interest obvious in the lilt that lifted his voice.

“Mmmhhmm. Has been for an hour or so. Figured you knew that, though, what with the way you’ve been eyeballing the bar,” Liam replied, before taking a long pull off the bottle in his hand.

“What? Nah, mate. Just checking out the scenery that’s all.”

“Scenery, huh? ‘S that what they’re calling it these days?” Liam jibbed.

Exasperated at being distracted, and by Liam’s taunting, Louis rolled his eyes, then jerked his attention back to Liam.

“‘S there a point to the interrogation, mate? Can’t a man check about for a bit of casual company?” Louis shoved himself up from the booth seat. “Look, I need another drink. You coming, or you gonna lurk here in the corner?”

“Just a minute, Lou. Before you go sniffing around, I need to talk to you.”

Louis glared down at the fingers wrapped around his forearm before shaking them off. He took another step, Liam’s voice following him like a warning.

“Lou, don’t fuck with me on this, mate. Zayn says I have to talk to you, I’m big enough to haul yer scrawny arse out the door to make you listen, and you know damn right and well not a man one in this club would stop me in the process.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Louis noticed the table full of women watching the two of them intently, likely taking notes for future reference. The last thing he wanted was to become the latest fodder. Pushing his breath out in a huff, and knowing that Liam would hold good on any threat, especially if Zayn requested it, he turned back around and returned to the table.

  “Alright, stop being a right tit. What is so damned important that you would actually make a scene over it?” Louis leaned up against the table, waiting for Liam to continue.

Liam glanced around, also noting the attention they were attracting, and heaved a sigh.

“Ya know what? Maybe it would be better if we step outside. Have a smoke. It’s a little more quiet; won’t require a bit of shouting to be heard.”

“And won’t garner an audience, I suppose?”

Liam winced. “Yeah, that, too. ‘S a bit more private, innit?”

“Seems so.” Louis waved a thin hand in front of himself, inclining his head toward the door. “Lead on, then. I’ll spare you having to… what was it you said? ‘haul my scrawny arse out the door’?”

Liam winced again but took the lead, his broad shoulders easily making a path through the already boisterous crowd. Zayn touched Liam lightly on the shoulder when they passed by, and Louis pushed down the feelings of envy he harboured over their easy familiarity. Much as he acted the carefree love ‘em and leave ‘em player, it wasn’t even a shade close to what he wanted. Everyone he took home was temporary—and he made sure it was clear from the start. He’d long ago set his sights on what he wanted for his future, and a mutual wank or scrabbling fuck wasn’t it, even if it sufficed in the interim.

A shivering blast tinged with the lingering scent of woodsmoke entered the small club when Liam pressed open the heavy wooden door. It was a brisk welcome respite from the cloying stench of stale spilled beer, cheap perfumes, and sweat from too many warm bodies in close quarters. They moved away from the door to lean against the weathered brick wall in the alleyway. Louis pulled a crumpled box from his pocket, shook out a smoke for himself, then one for Liam, answering his inquiring eyebrow with a curt nod.  He passed over his lighter with a heavy exhale, the smoke mingling with his heated breath meeting the cold night air. Raucous laughter and clinking glasses blended with the pounding bass line reverberating from inside. Typical Friday night, indeed.

Louis settled his back against the wall, and slid down into a squat. His hands hung within the circle built by his knees, the cigarette languidly dangling from between his fingers. Liam shuffled his feet, prompting Louis to peer up at him. He flicked his head in exasperation at the shock of hair that fell into his eyes, letting out a huffed sigh, before focusing on the dry leaves scuttling in the gutter.

“So… your boy gave instructions to warn me off Harry again? Mate, he’s been doing that for three years. ‘Sides, I may be a slag, but I do have a moral compass. Don’t fuck with other people’s partners, y’know? Harry’s well set in with Grimshaw, innit? I know there’s no chance there.”

“Except, you know, the fact that Aiden fucked off last week, didn’t he? Left Harry skint with nothing except an empty flat. The landlord called ‘round today to say the lease had been terminated.” The angry words tumbled from Liam, offering everything Louis had ever wanted to hear.

“Aiden left? Left Harry? Why?” Louis struggled to wrap his thoughts around the only thing that mattered to him.

“Lou, could you focus on something besides your obsession for a minute? Harry has a week to find a place to live. Everything in the flat belonged to either Aiden or the landlord. He’s got his personal belongings, and maybe 3-4 boxes of assorted stuff. He’s lost everything he considered important. The last thing he needs is you chatting him up.”

“But…” Louis stood up, waving his hand through the air, cigarette forgotten in his excitement. “I have a place he can stay. Nialler moved out and I could use a flatmate to split the costs.”

“As if!” Liam snorted. “Zayn would give up his own bed before he’d ever let that happen.”

“Oi, fuck off!” Louis tossed his cigarette butt in the gutter before squaring off in front of Liam and shoving his shoulder. “ When have I ever given a reason for this? You and Zayn think you know me, but . . . . You know what? Nah, never mind. Fuck this. I’m not justifying myself to you.” Louis shoved him again. “Harry's a grown man, not some shrinking violet. He can make his own decisions. Treating him like a child serves him no good.”

“Lou—” Liam’s voice carried a warning tone Louis knew he should heed, having been on the receiving end more than once over the course of their friendship. Then again, how often had Louis ever done what he should?  

*****

Wrenching open the heavy door, Louis blazed back into the pub, his annoyance imbuing him with a streak of recklessness.  Some lines he’d never cross, and that his friends thought otherwise pissed him off. He shouldered his way through a small group, and his eyes shifted to where Zayn was sitting. He looked up from his phone, pinning Louis where he stood. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head and a glare in Louis’ direction, it became obvious Liam had texted his boyfriend rather than chase after Louis and make a scene.

Louis’ jaw clenched, his entire body vibrating with defiance and indignation. How fucking dare they? He was so intent on confronting Zayn that Louis had almost forgotten that the source of contention also stood in the crowd around the bar. Or, at least, he’d forgotten until a pair of misty green eyes cautiously met his, accompanied by a tremulous half smile that quickly fell away when Harry ducked his head behind the shield of hair that provided shelter from the inquisitive glances from around the room.  

Harry stood beside Zayn in the middle of a cluster of people, yet Louis had never seen someone appear more alone or lost. And in that moment, something inside Louis shifted. Every bit of ire washed away, and was replaced by the need to shelter the hurting man with the haunted eyes. He snorted to himself at the irony, given Zayn and Liam’s actions. Well, fuck them.  Louis took a deep breath and put his heart back under lock and key. He could be just a friend. Harry looked like he could use a few more of those.

With grace that would make a dancer envious, Louis slid into the group, casually brushing past Harry to stand next to Zayn. He quirked an eyebrow, all but daring Zayn to confront him, before settling into a comfortable lean with his elbow resting on the bar top. In silence, he followed the conversation—something about an upcoming art show where Zayn would be displaying—while catching the barman’s eye and signaling for another beer.

When the topic drifted away from his art, Zayn leaned close, his breath warm on Louis’ neck.  “I know what you’re doing, and don’t even think about it. I will eviscerate you and serve your entrails to your mum’s cat for Sunday brunch. Don’t fucking test me.”

“You don’t know shit, and your threats don't scare me. I know way too much about your quirks to be afraid of you,” Louis hissed back, then in a voice loud enough to be heard by all those around them, added, “If anyone knows of someone needing a place to let, Niall moved to his girl’s place. He’s paid rent through the end of the month, and I could probably manage on my own, but if I could half it, why not? Just ask Zayn for the number to ring me, alright?”

“Harry, don’t you...” Jesy chimed in, quickly backing down when Zayn snapped his head in her direction. “I mean, uhmm, I might know of someone. I’ll check with them and see if they’re still looking.”

“Thanks, love.” Louis leaned over to give her a hug, then excused himself. “Its an early night for me. Zayn, we’re playing a pick-up game of footie at the park tomorrow around tennish if you and Liam want to join. Anyone’s welcome, really. The more the merrier!”

With a flurry of hugs and goodnights, Louis drifted away, but not without one last look at Harry. He was still slumped in on himself, though the shield had been tucked behind his ear. He nodded at Louis as if to acknowledge his departure. Or maybe he was bopping to the music. Louis wasn’t sure and didn’t care. There’d been a smile, albeit half-hearted, and that was a start. Louis took it as a win and headed home with a bounce in his step.

*****

 The weekend passed slowly. A light drizzle turned into a raging downpour, cancelling the match early, and leaving Louis with time on his hands and no one to distract him. He ordered takeaway, lounged on the sofa and binge-watched crap TV, while checking his phone every five minutes. Cashmere daylight turned to pitch night, and still he lazed on, while despising himself for being so predictable, yet doing nothing to change it. Monday and Tuesday were more of the same, and a late night at work on Wednesday broke the monotony, but Thursday found him in the same place, wrapped in his duvet, phone in hand, with empty curry cartons littering the table. RuPaul’s Drag Race ran on the telly with the sound muted for no reason whatsoever, and he sighed, not for the first time. It had only been five days. He couldn’t reasonably expect to have heard from Harry. Zayn had likely been rampantly coursing the city, looking into every available spare room to prevent Harry from falling into his life.

Disgusted, Louis shrugged off the duvet and wandered into the kitchen. He opened all the cupboard doors, dismissed every snack inside, then turned his attention to the refrigerator. Partial food containers were inspected, then tossed into the bin. After clearing the shelves of spoilt food, he opened the freezer. Surely he had... Yes! Success! Buried in the far corner, under frozen burritos and pizzas, he found it: a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. After digging it out, he salvaged a clean spoon from the sink and settled against the counter, eating right from the container. So deep in his moping, Louis missed the sound of the door opening and closing.

“Tommo!”Niall’s shout drifted from the main hall. “Where ya at? I’ve come to collect the post.”

 “Kitchen,” Louis answered,  shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. Niall entered the room, bursting into laughter at the sight of Louis hovering in front of the freezer.  

“What the hell, lad? Oversized hoodie, an overflowing bin, empties everywhere, and you’re shoveling ice cream like it’s the last container on earth. You look like one of your sisters mourning a breakup! I’ve just moved a few miles away, not out of the country!”

“Nuffin do wif ‘ou,” Louis muttered.

 “Sorry, what?”

Louis swallowed the melted mess and winced against the icy burn behind his eyes, then repeated himself. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Well, you’ve not had a proper boyfriend in the last three years, so I know that’s not it. Need a chat?”

“See, that’s it, that right there. Why do I need a boyfriend? Why does that have bearing on who I am? Why does a relationship, or lack of, define me?” Louis glared at Niall, then his shoulders slumped with a resigned sigh. “Nialler, I know you lot think I’m a right slag.” Louis lifted a hand to stop Niall from interrupting. No, it’s fine, I get it. But do you think I can’t be trusted, either? That I’m incapable of being friends with someone I’m interested in?

“Hey, wait! No! Whatever gave you that thought? What’s this about?” Niall removed the ice cream from Louis’ hands, returning it to the freezer, then steered Louis back into the living room.

“Sit.” Niall shoved Louis onto the sofa, grabbed the remote, turned off the TV, then directed his full attention back to Louis. “Now. Talk.”

“Zayn doesn’t trust me.”

“Wait, what? With Liam?” Niall cringed. “I… uhhmm… threw up in my mouth at the thought.”

“Ew! No! Not with Liam. I mean, no it doesn’t have anything to do with Liam, other than Liam being used as the enforcer of Zayn’s edicts.”

“Mate, I am so fucking lost right now.” Niall rubbed the inner corners of his eyes, brow creased in confusion. “Either draw me a map or… start over. From the top. Zayn doesn’t trust you?”

“Niall, if you had a friend that needed someplace to live, and knew another friend that had a spare room to let, would you try to facilitate that or would you deliberately stand in the way?”

Realisation flooded Niall’s face. “This is about Harry, isn’t it?” Laughter burst out of Niall. He doubled over, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. The withering look Louis shot in Niall’s direction quickly quashed his amusement. “Are they really cockblockin’ ya? Don’t they know that you’d rip out your own heart and give it to Harry if ye could? Hell, you’ve been whinging about Grimshaw being an arse since the moment you met them. What did Zayn and Liam think that was about, then? ”

“Apparently my inability to keep my dick in my pants.” Louis wryly replied. “They’re wrong, though.”

“Well of course they’re wrong! Anyone paying attention could see the truth.” Niall chimed in, his staunch defense cheering Louis. “You just have to prove it.”

Louis shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t have to prove anything, especially something that’s none of their business. ’Sides, Harry needs a friend, not a boyfriend.”

Niall scratched the stubble on his chin, and it looked like a million thoughts were running behind the placid mask he wore. “You’re right, on all accounts. But you know, anything could happen.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis replied with a shrug. “The lads aren’t letting me anywhere near him without supervision.”

“Maybe they won’t,” Niall shook his phone to emphasise his next point, “but Liam and Zayn aren’t the only ones with Harry’s number, and I seem to recall he and I planning to meet up and jam soon.” With a quick scroll, Niall found the number he needed. Offering Louis a wink while the call connected, Niall added, “Just don’t forget who took your side when this all works out.”  

*****

Niall hit a roadblock, only reaching Harry’s voicemail. He left a a simple message asking Harry to give him a call back, but the feeling of progress enabled Louis to sleep more peacefully than he had in a week. He didn’t do well with inaction, especially when it was imposed on him. While Louis preferred a straightforward approach to handling a situation, he wasn’t averse to skillfully applied subterfuge. And at least now, with Niall in his corner and playing his trump cards in Louis’ favour, Louis felt like the odds were leaning to his advantage.

And then, Friday rolled around again.

While riding the tube home from work, Louis flicked through his messages, every one an invite to meet up at the club. Same shit, different day. With a sigh, he locked his phone, slouched into his coat, and settled his head back against the seat. He was tired. So, so tired. He couldn’t remember when his life had become so rote.

Work.

Home.

Club on Fridays.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

It wasn’t the life he wanted, and he’d long grown tired of it, but what else did he have, really? An occasional trip to Donny to visit his family. Playing footie a couple times a month with the lads. The occasional movie hang out. It all felt purposeless. At twenty-six, shouldn’t there be something else? Something more?

His body jostled with the movement of the train, the monotony lulling him into a light sleep.  He knew the stops like old friends, the whine as the train pulled through Waterloo, the lurching bump when it moved aboveground before Finchley Road, and finally the stutteringly abrupt stop in Kilburn. He wouldn’t miss his stop. Instead, he let his thoughts wander, digging through his mind as if seeking a sense of purpose, so lost in his own thoughts that he almost missed the subtle vibration of his phone in his breast pocket. Pulling it out, he peered at an unfamiliar number, then let it go to voicemail. With the noise on the train, he’d have been hard-pressed to hear anything. Probably someone selling something, anyway.  Staggering to his feet against the sway of the train, he motioned to a woman moving through the car to take his vacant seat, then shouldered his way closer to the door. He braced himself against the pole when the train shuddered to a stop, then stumbled out onto the platform. Shaking out his coat, he trudged toward the exit, then out onto High Road. The sun hovered on the horizon, dusk shadowed the streets, while people hustled toward their homes and whatever waited for them there.

After pulling up his collar against the gusts whistling between the buildings, Louis set off on the familiar route to the cosy flat he’d rented with Niall since his move to London three years prior. The cat from the corner shop lay across the walkway, basking in the last lingering rays of light. With a steady gaze and a slow blink, it slinked out of his way, a baleful meow from the alley the only sign it’d been there. He crossed at the corner, then pulled out his phone to see if the unknown caller had left a message. The light blue screen illuminated when he thumbed across the lock screen and over the phone icon. One recent call, one voicemail. He slid his finger again, his breath hitching in his throat when the text of the voicemail opened and one word jumped out. Harry. He didn’t bother to read further, but tapped the play button, and melted into the low hesitant baritone wafting from the speaker.

“Hey, Louis, it’s Harry... Styles... uhm, Zayn’s friend. And Niall’s, I s’pose. That’s why I’m calling. Niall said you might have a room to rent in your flat and that it’s available now? I need something kind of immediately, not too big, not too expensive. Niall said it could be what I’m looking for. So, uhm, if you’d, I don’t know, maybe give me a call back and let me know if it’s still available and how soon I can come by to give it a look and discuss things with you, that’d be great. I can pay the rent upfront, maybe buy some groceries. I cook, too, if that helps. I dunno. Just...  uhm… yeah, give me a call back.”

Louis played the message again, then a third time. He saved the number in his phone, with a simple H to mark the contact, then played the message one more time. Disbelief gave way to cautious elation. He texted a quick reply to Harry that he’d call once he got home, then typed out a swift message to Niall.

Bless you, ya Irish cunt. I’ll change nappies on your firstborn for a month.

Heard from Hazza, did ya? I’ll settle for a beer and undying devotion.

You’ve got it.  

Don’t fuck it up. He’s in a bad place. Be his friend. Treat him like you do Fizzy and Lots. Give him time. The Tommo charm is enough.

Just friends. I can handle it.

When’s he moving in?

Not sure yet, I’ll call him when I get home. Maybe Sunday? Said he needed someplace immediately.

 I’ll help, bring over pizza. Maybe FIFA to break the ice?

Yeah. I’ll wipe the pitch with your gimpy arse.

For that, you have to carry any heavy boxes.

Gladly. Walking in the door. Need to call him back. Love you Nialler.

Love ya too, ya feckless bastard. Sunday.

Sunday. And Nialler? Thanks again.

Louis shucked his coat and hung it in the closet instead of his usual habit of draping it over the closest chair. He removed his shoes, depositing them by the door, then pulled his phone out. He thumbed out the unlock code, only to have it ring before he could call Harry back.

Zayn.

With a sigh, he answered, steeling himself for the tirade he was about to face.

“I’m going on the record as saying I think this is a terrible idea.”  Zayn jumped right in without preamble.

“Hello to you, too, Zayn. And duly noted. I’m assuming that’s the only purpose to this call? To threaten my existence whilst defending Harry’s honour?” Louis rubbed his eyes, sinking bonelessly into his favourite chair. “Like I told Liam, Harry’s a grown-up. Let him make his own decisions.”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what you want—free reign to make your move.” Zayn growled, frustration apparent in his voice. “Forget it, its not going to happen.”

“If you’re really Harry’s friend, you’d trust his judgement.”

“And if you truly gave a shit about Harry, you’’d realise that he’s more than some pretty face you can seduce and walk away from come sunrise.”

Louis’ eyes snapped open and he sat up, blood boiling, seething at Zayn’s assumptions. “For fuck’s sake, Zayn, let it go! You don’t know as much as you think you do.” He pushed to his feet, too agitated to stay still. He moved through the flat, aimlessly putting things away. “You’re Harry’s friend. You’re my best friend’s partner. I know you’ll be around, regardless of my feelings. But you’re way overstepping boundaries here, and I’m done with this conversation.”

Tapping off the phone, Louis tossed it toward the sofa. Fuck Zayn! Harry was interested in moving in. He seemed to trust Louis enough to live with him, so whatever happened going forward would be between him and Harry. He’d be damned if he’d allow anyone else’s misconceptions rain on his parade. Snatching up his phone, he tapped the new contact, impatiently waiting through two rings, then . . .

“Hey, Louis. Thanks for calling back.” Harry answered, voice tinged with hesitation.

“Yeah, yeah. Not a problem. So you still need a place, huh?” Louis smiled at the non-commital hum from the other end of the call, and continued, “It’s a decent-sized flat, as is the room. It’s a quick walk from the tube, and the neighbourhood is good. And I sound like an estate agent trying to make a sale.”

“No, you’re good… I mean, it’s fine. Could I come by and maybe take look ‘round?”

“Yeah, sure. when are you thinking?” Louis stopped pacing and settled against the kitchen counter.

“Tonight?” Harry paused, then rushed on, “I mean, tomorrow would work, too, if you’ve got plans or summat. I know it’s short notice and whatnot.”  

“No, no plans. I was debating a quiet night in, actually.” Louis checked the time. “It’s half six now and I haven’t eaten yet. How about we say half seven?”

“Half seven is fine, and I’ll bring food.” When Louis protested, Harry talked over him. “No, I insist. I’ve made stew and there’s more than enough. It’s the least I can do, putting you out like this on short notice.”

“Okay, then. I’ll allow it, but I’ll pop down the shop and grab a loaf of fresh bread to go with.”

“Sounds good. Text me the address and I’ll see you then. And Louis? Thanks.” Harry’s dip in confidence over the span of two sentences left Louis intrigued. What the hell had Grimshaw done to drag him so low? Louis vowed to help Harry find himself again. He only hoped he wouldn’t lose his heart in the process.

*****

After giving the flat a quick once-over, Louis swapped his suit jacket for a jumper, then tugged his coat back on and headed out to find his contribution to dinner. He managed to slip into the small bakery up the street before closing, snared a loaf of crusty french bread and a selection of pastries and biscuits, because dessert was needed, obviously.

On the way back home, he detoured into the off licence, needing something besides tea to offer. Helplessly, he wavered between cola, squash, and the wine display. Get a fucking grip, Tommo! Don’t overthink it. Grabbing a bottle each of red and white, he also picked up a few bottles of squash, some colas, and before he could think better, a sixer of Stella. Every base covered.

Louis staggered back into the flat with fifteen minutes to spare. Shrugging out of his coat, he toppled his packages on the counter and hustled to put them away, before giving the counter a quick swipe with a cloth. He snatched up his coat and returned it to the closet, smoothed a hand over his hair, and tugged on the hem of his jumper. Pushed his sleeves up. Slid them back down. Docked his iPhone and turned on a playlist. Changed it. Turned it up. Turned it down. Straightened the throw on the sofa. Turned on the telly. Muted it. Turned it back off. Shoved his shaking hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels, and waited for the bell to ring. Prayed it wouldn’t. Jesus Christ! Sort yourself for fuck’s sake! Dragging his hand over his face, he huffed out a deep breath. And the bell rang.

Louis waited a beat to calm himself, then opened the door. Broad shoulders covered in a soft camel jacket confronted him, chocolate curls rioted over the shearling collar. The coat whirled around. Harry’s eyes were wide, one hand pressed his phone to his ear, the other hand held a shopping tote. Louis’ cautious smile tightened with Harry’s first words.

“Drop it, Z. I’ll call later.” Harry slid the phone into his pocket. “Sorry about that.”

Louis shook the offered hand, then stepped back to allow Harry into the flat. “It’s fine. Let me take your coat. I can show you around before we eat, if you’d like. Do you need to put anything in the oven?”

“Sounds perfect.” Harry set the tote down to hand over his coat. “The oven would be great. Just point me in the right direction. Need to warm it up. Not that it’s cold. Not really. I Ubered instead of the tube, so it shouldn’t have cooled off too much.”

Louis opened the closet, hiding a relieved smile behind the door. Harry’s rambling eased the nerves that fluttered in his stomach. This could work. It absolutely could. Leading the way, he walked into the kitchen, telling Harry to make himself at home, with a fervent wish that the other man would do just that.

*****

“So… the kitchen.” Louis waved his hand with a flourish. “The basics, really. cooker, fridge, microwave. It’s all pretty standard.”

And it was. Not much more than a galley, really, with a small table pushed against one wall, chairs nestled under three sides. A few small appliances were stored in an alcove over the cooker. His favorite cereals filled a shelf in the open pantry in the corner, while a wooden rack to the left of the cooker held the frying pans Louis used most.

 He motioned towards the tote in Harry’s hand. “I’ll let you get that settled, then I can show you the rest of the flat.”

Harry squeezed past Louis with an economy of motion, graceful and contained, despite the way his presence seemed to dominate the room. He placed a stoneware casserole in the oven, then set the temperature and a timer. “Thirty minutes should do it, and give us time to look ‘round.” Harry slid a hand across the countertop, fingers dancing across the mugs that rested near the kettle. The cups weren’t anything special, just a motley assortment of promo logos mixed in with kitschy gifts from Louis’ family and friends, but Louis liked the look of Harry’s casual touch on the worn ceramic. It seemed... familiar. Like finding home.

“I dunno what all you’d be bringing with you, but there’s still a bit of cupboard space left.” Louis offered, opening one of the doors to show the empty space, then gestured toward the pantry. “As far as food, Niall and I usually split the groceries and picked up whatever was needed when one of us went to Tesco. Or we could do separate shelves and labels, if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“I… uhm, there’s not much to come with me. Mostly my personal stuff. I do have some kitchen things.” Harry appeared to fold in on himself, shoulders hunched, arms crossed over his stomach. “I like to cook.”

“Outstanding! I love to eat.” Louis chuckled to ease the sudden tension, then added, “Maybe we could work out a trade on groceries and cooking duties? I can cook, but I don’t particularly enjoy it.”

Harry brightened, a slow smile stealing across his face, and the hint of a dimple appeared in his cheek. “Yeah, that might work.” He straightened his shoulders, then nodded toward the door. “So… should we...”

“Shit, yes, of course!” Louis pushed himself off the counter he’d settled against, then took Harry’s arm. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

With a gentle tug, Louis led him out to the living room. Affecting a haughty accent, he nodded his head with a deferential bow. “The sitting room, my lord. As you can see, all the amenities are present. Large telly, a plethora of films for your viewing pleasure, as well as the basic channels, a bit of cable, and a dodgy WiFi connection that seems to prefer the corner of the sofa closest to the window. The bookshelves are woefully neglected, however a wide variety of Marvel comics are available for your perusal. If any collectible editions are present, it is an anomaly. They are, most likely, the property of Master Payne, and may have been an oversight upon his last visit.”

 Louis sneaked a look at Harry’s face, content to see a bit of sparkle in his eyes. Determined to garner an outright laugh, he continued on. “Whilst the flat is lacking in private en-suites, the bathroom is cosy enough to allow one to shave while also relieving oneself. The turn of the century design also ensures that the water is sufficiently warm in the summer, yet frigid enough to freeze your nether bits off in the winter. It is suggested that allowing the shower to run a bit will bring the temperature to lukewarm.” The muffled snort Louis heard from behind him offered ample inducement to add, “If you prefer a good soak, and let’s be honest, who doesn’t appreciate a good soak,” Louis shot a quick wink over his shoulder for emphasis, also catching Harry hiding a wide grin behind his hand, “the tub is deep enough to accommodate that, but the water tank may not be quite adequate. It’s been rumoured, but unconfirmed, that residents have resorted to boiling water on the hob to top off the level.”

“Moving on,” Louis stepped around Harry, giving a friendly nudge with his hip on the way past. “To the left you’ll find your prospective flatmate’s humble lair, complete with ancestral furniture handed down from his mother upon the occasion of her remarriage and remodel of the familial home.” Louis opened the door to his room, relieved that he’d taken the time to make his bed that morning. “Her exquisite taste is, unfortunately,  wasted on the folly of youth and the pieces have been marred by the current owner’s prediliction for errantly tossing his baubles on the surfaces. The Hoover also rarely makes it into this room, so please, I beg of you, leave your socks on if you enter.”

And there it was, a full-on guffaw, quickly covered when Harry clapped a hand over his mouth. The light in his eyes danced with amusement, though, shoulders shaking with the effort to contain it. Harry’s smile was infectious, filling his whole face with joy. Delighted, Louis mentally hugged himself.

“The last stop on our tour is the vacant room. Master Horan has removed all his worldly goods, leaving behind an empty space and blank slate for self-expression. There is a bed available, leftover from the previous occupant’s uni days, but it can be moved to storage if you have other options. To be fair, a foldaway with missing supports would provide a better option. I’ll leave that decision to you, should you decide the flat is amenable to your needs.”

Harry gave up any vestige of containment, his buoyant laugh bouncing off the walls and filling the room with warmth. “Oh my God, Louis! This is, without a doubt, the best flat tour I’ve had in the past two weeks.”

Louis beamed, basking in Harry’s uninhibited happiness. He’d done it. He’d not only made Harry smile, he’d laughed, too. And Louis knew now he’d do just about anything to hear that laugh again. Preferrably every day. Forever.

*****

“So… whadya think? Are you—” Louis started to ask, only to be cut off by the sound of the oven timer.

“I need to go check… Just give me a minute…” Harry’s eyes flitted from Louis’ face to the bedroom door, then back again. “ I’m sorry, Louis. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You didn’t interrupt, the oven did,” Louis teased. “How about we go get the food on the table, grab some drinks, and talk about the flat while we eat? Does that work?”

“That sounds perfect.” The relief that filled Harry’s eyes was palpable, and left Louis with more questions than answers about the dynamics of Harry’s relationship with Aiden. “If you’ll show me where the plates and cutlery are, I’ll get everything ready.”

“Not, you. Us. C’mon, we’ll do it together.” Louis led the way out of the room, continuing his train of thought once they reached the kitchen.  “Listen, I don’t need or expect you to wait on me, Harry. We’re, at minimum, potential flatmates having dinner together.” While Louis talked, Harry picked up a towel and gingerly pulled the hot casserole pot from the oven and set it on the hob. Accepting a large serving spoon from Louis, he lifted the lid and gave the contents a stir. Apparently satisfied with the results, he replaced the lid and waited for Louis to finish talking. “That means we share the chores equally. That way, we have more time for fun shit, too, like all-night FIFA parties with the lads.”

“Fair enough.” Harry chuckled. “So, as your potential flatmate, I suggest you show me where to find some plates and let’s eat. I’m starving. We’ll slice the bread at the table.”

Louis pointed out the correct cupboard, then opened the fridge to peruse its contents. Bloody hell! Had he left anything on the shelves at the grocer?  “I have bottled water, some Stella, a nice Bordeaux, a lovely Chardonnay. There’s also squash or Coke. What strikes your fancy?”

“Well, it’s a beef stew, so either the Stella or the Bordeaux would do the trick. Maybe the Stella, though. Whatever you decide is fine with me.” Harry continued opening cupboards and drawers, collecting the rest of what they needed for dinner. Louis smiled to see how seamlessly Harry acclimated himself to Louis’ kitchen; casually helping himself as if they’d been friends for years, rather than mere acquaintances. He snapped out of his musings when Harry addressed him again, nodding at the two bottles in Louis’ hands. “You ready to eat? Everything else is on the table.”

And so it was.  Not only had Harry found the plates and cutlery, he’d also set the table, sliced the bread, and even managed to find some butter in the fridge. Louis stared at Harry in amazement, then waved him into a seat and joined him at the table. “How did I miss you doing all of this?”

“Doing what? It’s nothing. It’s just dinner.”

“It’s not nothing, or just dinner. Everything we do has value,  even if it’s only for ourselves.” Louis ladled stew onto his plate and took a bite while he contemplated his next words. “This is good, wow. Absolutely delicious. And I appreciate you bringing it over and sharing it with me. The room is yours if you want it. Please don’t feel you need to make yourself indispensable or cook for me in order to be my flatmate. No strings attached, other than the rent."

Harry bit his lip and ducked his head, busying himself with the ladle and his plate. Louis ate in contemplative silence, content to let Harry work through whatever it was that weighed on his mind. When Harry looked back up, a wet sheen covered his eyes, but he lifted his chin with determination.

“I want the room. I think… No, I know this is the right choice. Thank you, Louis.”

Louis fidgeted, uncomfortable with Harry’s admission and thanks.  Looking for a distraction, he lifted his bottle to tap Harry’s. “Cheers, roomie! We’ll work out the details. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

With only a week left in the month, Louis told Harry not to worry about rent until the first. Harry agreed, but only if he bought groceries. Louis hashed over the monthly expenses - rent, utilities, internet, cable - and agreed to a 50/50 split.

Harry asked Louis to draft some type of agreement, insisting they keep it all in writing. “Agreements between friends don’t always end well, despite the best intentions,  and it protects both of us from any misunderstandings.” Harry’s voice dropped to a monotone, leaving Louis cold at the lack of emotion.

“Alright then, yeah. I’ll pull something together. We can have Niall witness it, too. Make it a bit more official, right?” Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, he laughed and added, “Just no blood oath, okay? The sight makes me a bit squeamish. ‘Sides, the bandage would be a bit tough to explain at the office.” Louis stood and began gathering up the remnants of dinner from the table. He set the stew on the hob, then reached into an overhead cabinet. “I think I have some tupperware we can store the extras in so you can take them home without a mess.”

“Or we can leave it in the dish here? I’m going to be back in less than 48 hours. No sense in taking it home.” Harry finished clearing the table while he talked, then picked up a teatowel off the counter. Louis washed, Harry dried, familiarising himself further with the layout of the kitchen. And, after a second bottle of Stella to celebrate their new arrangement, Louis handed over the key. That simple. Little did Louis understand how complicated his life was about to become.

*****

The next two days passed in a flurry of activity. Louis spent Saturday cleaning, making room in closets and cupboards for Harry to settle in. He wanted Harry to feel welcomed and at home throughout the entire flat, not just his room. Texts flew between their phones, with Harry asking questions about Louis’ likes and dislikes, if he had any allergies, what his favourite foods were. Louis replied in kind, insisting he was amenable to pretty much anything and Harry not put himself out.

They set a time for midday Sunday for Harry to bring over his things, and he arrived with a sea of boxes surrouding him and the Uber driver. Louis helped unload them to the kerb, then texted Niall to find out how soon he’d be over. Instead of a reply, he heard a shout from down the street. Looking up, he saw Niall and his mate Bressie approaching from the direction of the tube. Louis nudged Harry with his elbow to get his attention, then waved in acknowledgement. After a round of handshakes and back slaps, they set to work. With four of them, it only took three trips to move everything inside. Once the door closed behind the last load, they all collapsed around the living room,

“I’ll just put them all in my room for now.” Harry nodded toward the boxes piled along the side wall. “No use in dragging them open and leaving the place a tip. I’ll sort through them after work during the week and get everything settled.”

“Ya’ sure Harry? It looks like they’re all marked.” Niall said from where he sat on the floor, back settled against one stack. “Wouldn’t take but an hour or so to get it sorted, then it’s done. I don’t mind helping.”

“I mean… If no one minds helping…” Harry shot an enquiring look around the room. Louis watched the other two lads nod in agreement, and Louis smiled at Niall gratefully.

“Then it’s settled.” Louis clapped his hands and staggered back to his feet. “Cokes all around, no beer until we’re done. Buck up lads and lets get to it. There’s FIFA and pizza when we’ve finished. Turning toward Harry he added, “Alright then, Harold, get to sorting what goes where. We’ll haul; you direct.”

Within a few hours, all the boxes were emptied, barring a few with personal items in Harry’s room. A stack of flattened cardboard rested near the door, ready to be taken out to the recycling bin. Pizza had been ordered, and Louis pulled four beers from the fridge, passing them around. “Cheers, lads! Well done.”

Harry dropped into the chair, a quick smile offering a peek of the dimple that fascinated Louis. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t ever repay you for your help. I owe everyone dinner.”

“Pay for the pizza, love, and we’ll call it even. It’s what friends do,” Louis said, ignoring Niall’s raised eyebrows at the casual endearment. He’d clarified friends. Hell, he’d called all of the lads ‘love’ at one point or another. Just mates being mates, for fuck’s sake.

*****

October faded into November, the weather becoming steadily colder and rainy. Louis and Harry had moved past the tentative first stages of sharing a space with someone, and were slipping into casual routines. In the mornings, Louis left for the office most days before Harry woke up so he’d leave a cup on the counter for Harry in front of the teapot. Harry worked late two nights a week, plus opposite Saturdays; Louis took on cooking duties those days. He also found himself less inclined to go out to the pub, more comfortable with quiet nights in, binge-watching series on the telly. Even if Harry didn’t join him to watch, just his presence in the flat made being home more desirable than a crowded bar filled with faceless strangers.

And if they’d chosen to ignore when Harry strolled out of the shower naked and crashed into Louis in the hallway, or the time Harry had forgotten his key and Louis answered the bell breathless and sweaty, joggers barely resting on his hips, and no one else in the flat, well, that’s better left alone.

The more time Louis spent in Harry’s company, the harder he fell. He’d come to realise that behind the pretty face existed a quick wit, a kind heart, and a fiery temper; all of which he’d witnessed in equal measure.

*****

“Harry? Do we have any crisps?”

Harry looked over from the sofa. “They’re in the cupboard by the fridge.” Louis continued aimlessly opening doors. “No, not that one Lou, the other side.”

“Found them!” Louis held the bag triumphantly over his head. “Dip? Biscuits? Haribo?”

“No dip unless you plan to make it. Biscuits are over the cooker, and I have a couple bags of Starmix in my room.  Are you spending the day binge-watching Netflix again?”

“No, no Netflix today.” Louis continued rifling through the cupbard, certain he was starting to piss Harry off. Hopefully his strop wouldn’t last long. Harry spent too much time looking lost, and Louis wanted to distract him for a bit. He only hoped he hadn’t over estimated Harry’s willingness to go with the flow.

“Then... If it’s not a Netflix binge, what’s with all the snacks?” Harry stood and stretched, wandering into the kitchen. “Lou?”

“The lads will be here in a bit to watch the match. We’re gonna order some takeaway, but I wanted to toss some things on the table for them, too. Did I forget to mention it? You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, you didn’t mention it. Zayn didn’t say anything about it, either.”

“It’s a couple of the lads I know from back home and one or two from the office." I didn’t invite Liam because I knew he’d tell Zayn, who’d tell you, and I didn’t want you to back out of being here, Louis added to himself, then snuck a peek at Harry. He’d pulled his hands into the sleeves of his jumper and leaned against the counter with his arms wrapped around his stomach. Fuck! Maybe forcing Harry to be social was a bad idea after all.

“It’s your flat too, and out of courtesy I should have told you. I can cancel if you’d rather.” Louis struggled to look contrite, silently praying Harry wouldn’t squash his plans.

“It’s fine. I have a book I want to read. I’ll just stay in my room.”

“Or... you could join us. You do like footie, right?” Louis shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Look, hang out with us for a bit. If you absolutely hate it I won’t say a word if you go to your room. They’re good lads, honest.”

The bell rang, followed by a knock on the door.

Louis looked between the door and Harry. “Harry?”

Harry shrugged and straightened. “I’ll grab the Starmix. Please tell me we’re watching the ManU match at least?’

“Absolutely!” Delighted, Louis squeezed Harry’s arm on his way past to let his friends in. When Harry returned from his room, Louis made the introductions. “Harry, these lot are JJ, Josh, and Tom— I work with them at the office. And the souless ginger in the back standing by the blond lad are me mates Oli and Calvin from back home. Lads, this is my new flatmate Harry.”

“Is that Starmix?” Calvin asked, already settling on the sofa.

“Yeah, and I’ve got a bag of Tangfastics, too.” Harry handed over both bags of sweets. “Help yourself. Does anyone need a drink before the match starts? Speak now, or hold your peace. I won’t move again ‘til halftime.”

While Louis placed a takeaway order for curry, Harry pulled bottles from the fridge. By the time he and Louis returned to the living room, the lads had filled all the available seats, save for the spot where Louis usually sat;  Oli had stretched out on the floor in front of the telly.

“Oi! Shit! We didn’t leave a space for Harry.” Tom moved to empty his spot, but Harry handed him a bottle of beer and waved him back down.

“Sit, sit! I’ll take the floor.” Harry looked for a place, the settled on the floor to lean against the arm of the chair Louis had curled into. Fifteen minutes in, Harry finally chimed in with the others to loudly express his displeasure over a bad call. From there on out, he made bad puns about the players’ names, told shit dad jokes, and offered up a running commentary that had everyone in hysterical laughter. By the end of the game, when his sarcastic wit eviscerated the referees for ‘stealing the game from ManU’,  Harry had found a new group of people to call friends.  

*****

Louis arrived home one Friday in late November to find the flat dark and Harry nowhere to be found. It had been raining all afternoon, the storm almost torrential at times, and Louis worried something had happened to him on his way home. He opened his phone to call, only to be interrupted by a bang from the hall. Harry staggered in the front door, arms weighed down with parcels. Louis rushed to lend a hand, then followed Harry into the kitchen.

“I thought you did shopping over the weekend? Did we need something? You could have called me and I’d have stopped on my way home.”

Harry unwound the scarf from around his neck, then took his coat off while he answered. “No, it’s not for us. Niall texted me earlier. Barbara’s grandmother passed away and he wanted information from the shop for the funeral flowers.” Harry began unloading the groceries while he finished explaining. “He mentioned that they’d have some extended family staying with them until after the funeral, so I thought I’d make some casseroles to take over. Barb shouldn’t be worried about cooking right now.”

Louis stared at his flatmate in bemusement. Harry never ceased to amaze him, in all the best ways. Without a word, he took Harry’s coat from him and hung it in the closet, then returned to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

They spent the rest of the evening cooking and sharing stories about their own grandparents. They also talked about the rest of their families— Louis mentioning that he was the oldest of seven children, while Harry joked that his mum was on her way to becoming Holmes Chapel’s newest cat lady since he and his sister had moved out.  

Together, they delivered the dishes the next afternoon. When Barb insisted it was too much, Harry shushed her.

“This is what friends do where I’m from. They help each other in times of need. Now let’s get these in the fridge and I’ll go over the reheating instructions with you.”

Niall stared at Louis, waiting until his girlfriend and Harry had left the room, before dragging him out to the garden. “Jesus, Louis. Is he for real? I mean, I knew he was a nice guy, but… sheesh! He’s damn near a saint.”

“Oh, he’s not, Niall. Not even close. He’s moody. He swears like a drunk sailor. He leaves books all over the place. He forgets to recap his shampoo in the shower on the regular.”

“Oh good to know he’s not perfect, then.”

Louis shook his head. “Nobody’s perfect. Nobody. But there are people who come damn close, and Harry’s definitely one of them.”

They both looked up when the door opened, Harry stepping out to join them in the garden.

“Barbara said to tell you thank you, Louis. I encouraged her to go have a lie down after we talked.”

“Sorry about that, Haz,” Niall offered, tilting his head back toward the door.

“Sorry about what? She just needed someone to talk to while she reminisced about childhood memories of her nan.” Harry shrugged. “If it helped her to be able to just talk, I didn’t mind spending the time. Those moments are important and they’ll sustain her when the grief is hard.”

Niall shook his head, obviously speechless. Louis and Harry took their leave shortly after, and didn’t speak anymore about the afternoon. But, when Niall called two days later and told him that Harry had sent a bouquet of Barb’s favorite flowers, Louis wasn’t surprised. Harry’s kindness had won over another of Louis’ friends. He’d long fallen under Harry’s spell, so he couldn’t blame his friends for succumbing.

*****

A rainy November gave way to a frigid December. Louis and Harry hadn’t discussed Christmas, and suddenly it was upon them. They had both been busier than usual at work, and had begged off several nights out with their friends, both together and individually. However, when Jesy called about getting together for the tree lighting in Trafalgar Square, they both worked out their schedules to attend. After, they strolled through the Christmas Market, sipping cups of mulled wine.

Jesy slid between Louis and Harry, tucking her arms in theirs. “There’s a booth up ahead that’s supposed to have wonderful pastries, and another near it has handblown ornaments. I’ll treat to the sweets if you’ll help me pick out a gift for me mum.”

“I’d have helped, even without the pastry, but I’ll not turn it down, either,” Harry teased, leaning in to kiss Jesy’s cheek as they walked on. “Have you put the tree up at home, then?” He asked.

“No, not yet. Mum plans to do it this weekend. It’s why I want to find her something special before then.” She came to a stop, her eyes lighting up. “Oh this must be it! Look at how exquisite these ornaments are!” She examined several, passing them to Louis and Harry for approval, and asked, “What about you? Is your tree up?”

“We haven’t really talked about Christmas. We’ve both been so busy, it’s kind of snuck up on us, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah it has. Niall always went home to Mullingar and me to Donny, so I never really did a tree. I don’t even have any decorations.” Harry’s cheerful smile slipped, and Louis rushed to replace it. “We can absolutely do a tree if you want, Harry. I’d rather we did artificial, though. They last longer, and if we’re going to do this I want to enjoy it the whole season, not just a week or two.” There it was. That infernal dimple that appeared when Harry was truly happy about something. Louis returned the smile, his heart tight in his chest.

“You could always do a tree decorating party,” Jesy offered. “Invite over a bunch of friends, and ask that they each bring an ornament. It could be a lot of fun and solves the problem of not having decorations.”   

“What do you think, Louis? I mean, I don’t have any decorations either, but Jesy’s idea could work, and we could pick up some basic ornaments to fill in the rest of the tree. ” Harry appeared to be almost vibrating with excitement at the thought. “Next week is my off Saturday, so it’d be perfect if we could organise it on short notice.”

With the reflection from the lights wreathing Harry’s head like a halo, and his eyes sparkling as if lit from within, Louis couldn’t look away. He also couldn’t imagine telling Harry no, either.

“If that’s what you want, sure. It’s your flat, too, remember? String tinsel from the ceiling, hang lights in the windows, put mistletoe in every doorway. Between everyone here tonight and text messages, I’m sure we could get a group together for a week from now. Hell, all you have to do is offer to feed them, and they’ll all show up.”

The force of Harry’s smile radiated through Louis with an unexpected warmth. Harry’s smiles were always special, but this— This was a whole other level. He paused, mesmerised. Harry rushed to invite the others, leaving Jesy and Louis alone at the booth.

Jesy turned to Louis, about to say something, then stopped. Her face softened and she laid her hand on his arm. “Oh, Louis. You have to tell him.”

Louis stiffened, looking away from Harry animatedly talking to Perrie, Niall, Barb, and the rest of their friends. “I can’t. It’s too soon and I don’t want people getting the wrong impression of why I invited him to live with me.”

“When is it not too soon? When he’s dating someone else?” Jesy sighed in frustration. “He cares for you. I know you don’t see it, but he absolutely does. Take a chance, Louis.”

Louis watched Harry walking back toward them, weaving his way in and out of the crowds of people, pausing at a few booths on his way. He glanced helplessly at Jesy, then back to Harry. “After Christmas. After things settle down, I’ll— Son of a bitch! How dare he!”

Aiden Grimshaw had stopped Harry, blocking his way, and Harry had hunched down into his coat, obviously uncomfortable. Louis grabbed Jesy’s arm, dragging her with him, mostly to keep him from punching the bastard when he reached him.  

“... no, I don’t accept it. But you know what? I do owe you a thank you.” Harry stood tall, shoulders back, and Louis was certain he’d never seen him looking more confident. “You leaving was the best thing for me. It made me realise I deserved better than I’d had. So... Thank you. But please don’t ever contact me again.”

Harry turned his back on Aiden, took Jesy’s hand and rested the other on Louis’ coat sleeve. “I believe we were picking ornaments for the tree? Let’s go find something extra special for your mum, Jesy.”

And they walked away.

Jesy peeked back over her shoulder once, then looked admiringly at Harry. “That was brilliant.”

“It was also the past.” Harry’s face was peaceful, his smile content. “I’ve closed that chapter of my life, and I’m ready to write the rest of the book.”

*****

The week before the party passed in a blizzard of activity. Harry spent hours pouring over cooking websites, determined to find the perfect hors d’oeuvres. “I want finger foods, but nothing typical. Man cannot live by cocktail sausages alone, Louis.”

“No, you’re right. I know, for meself, I prefer a much larger sausage.” Laughing, Louis deflected the sofa pillow thrown at his head, and continued, “We need a tree, Harry. Otherwise… not much point in the party, is there?”

“We could order one, right? Surely Amazon has artificial Christmas trees.” Harry picked up his laptop and walked over to sit next to Louis. “I mean, yeah it’d be fun to pick it out, but its not like it’s real.” He opened the Amazon page, typing in ‘artificial christmas tree’.  “I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy braving traffic, finding parking, and dealing with the crowds to find one, and then having to get it back home. Calling an Uber would be an even bigger pain in the arse.”  

“Yeah, that works. We don’t have a lot of time to go hunting one down, so this is the best option.” Louis leaned into Harry, reaching over to angle the laptop screen so he could see it better. “Whadya think? Six feet? We could move the chair and put it by the window.”

“Okay.” Harry typed some more. “Pre-lit? What do we want to spend? We can go cheap, and then who cares if it lasts, or go a bit more and have it for a while.” Harry speaking so casually about them living together long term, as if it was a foregone conclusion, had Jesy’s comment from the week before reverberating in his head. “He cares for you. I know you don’t see it, but he absolutely does.”

“Find the perfect tree, Harry. We’ll sort the price after.”

*****

“It’s all perfect, Louis. You’d think you were the one doing all the cooking, with all the hovering you’re doing.” Harry pushed him out of the kitchen.

“Hey! I helped.” Louis looked around the room, pleased at the transformation they’d wrought for the party. The tree had arrived the night before and they’d already set it up by the window, the bare branches illuminated and awaiting their holiday finery. Harry had also ordered lengths of decorated pine garland that they’d hung around several of the doorframes, along with mistletoe kissing balls. Fairy lights twinkled along the edge of the red draped kitchen table they’d moved to the living room for the evening. Platters and bowls filled the top, a testament to the time they’d spent in the kitchen in the last twenty or so hours. Louis dropped his iPhone in the dock, queuing up a playlist they’d curated over the past few days.

 “You did help, and I’m grateful. An official taste tester is essential to every good Christmas party.” Harry teased, then dashed off to answer the door. Their friends drifted in steadily from then on. The food dwindled at a rapid pace, Harry working to keep the dishes full in between mingling with their guests, while Louis took charge of keeping the drinks flowing. Harry swooped by for another drink— easily his third or fourth of the evening. They had also shared shots of Winter Jack with all the newcomers as they arrived. A flush rode high on Harry’s cheeks, his smile and good cheer infecting everyone else.

The more Harry drank, the more affectionate he became, and Louis appeared to be his favorite target. Hugs, gentle touches when he walked past, continual eye contact from across the room. Louis tried to tamp down the hope blooming in his chest. When they all gathered around the tree, Harry settled into Louis’ lap to organise the decorating, pushing Louis’ torment to an entire new circle of hell.

At Harry’s direction, they took turns going around the room for their friends to explain their ornament and the story behind it. Oli’s ornament was a football with the Doncaster Rovers logo on it. Liam offered a Batman ornament, as well as a Spiderman one, for their shared love of comic books.  Zayn gave Harry a miniature artist’s palette, Niall gave Harry a guitar and Louis a mug emblazoned with the Irish flag and filled with green beer. Barb handed Harry a replica of a miniature silk nosegay, prompting more than a tear or two when she told the story attached to it. And so on it went, each ornament a tribute to friendships old and new.

Louis chatted with Jesy and Perrie, trying not to notice Harry’s arse wriggling against his dick.

“We have good friends,” Harry leaned back and whispered into Louis’ ear. The sensation of his breath sent shivers down Louis’ spine, while the change in position had him stifling a moan of frustration. He shifted, hoping Harry wouldn’t notice how much Harry’s attention was affecting him.

“Are there anymore sausage rolls, Harry?” a voice called from across the room. Harry jumped up to help and Louis exhaled in relief. He excused himself from the conversation, ignoring Jesy’s amused, pointed expression.

He escaped to the bathroom to pull himself together. Louis splashed water on his face and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. Fuck! At this rate, he’d combust before the night was over.

He exited the bathroom, only to be confronted by Zayn.

“What’s your game, Louis? The hugs, the lap-sitting? So help me—”

“Oh give it a damn rest! If you’re really paying that much attention, you’d have noticed I didn’t instigate any of it.” Louis shoved past him, coming up short when he saw Harry in the hall behind Zayn.

“Are you still doing this, Zayn? Let it go. I’m a grown man. I can hug who I want, snog who I want, fuck who I want.” Harry moved to stand between Louis and Zayn and Louis’ heart soared, even while acknowledging Harry was more than a little drunk. “My choices are none of your damn business. I appreciate you being there after Aiden, but this...” Harry cupped Louis’ cheek, placing a gentle kiss on his mouth. “Is between me and Louis. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have guests leaving that we need to see off.”

The rest of the night was a blur for Louis, his fingers drifting often to his lips that still tingled from Harry’s kiss. Harry had kissed him. In front of Zayn. Had implied he wanted to fuck him. Had insinuated that he wanted a relationship. Louis struggled to process it all, even as he went through the motions of collecting coats and saying goodbye to their friends.

Perrie, Jesy, Niall, and Barbara had cleared up the food and washed the dishes while Louis and Harry were busy with seeing everyone else off. Once they’d finished, they hugged their hosts, Jesy whispering in Louis’ ear. “Tell him now. It’s the right time.”

Harry closed the door behind them and turned the lock. Louis watched his shoulders rise and fall under a deep breath, then he turned and Louis melted under the force of the affection in his eyes.

“Well… this was fun.” Louis fumbled for the right words, the elephant in the room taking a seat in the middle of his chest.

“Come with me.” Harry took his hand and led him to the chair near the Christmas tree. He motioned for Louis to sit, then removed a package from under the tree and knelt before him. “I didn’t give you my ornament earlier, because I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of our friends. Will you open it now?”

Louis nodded, accepting the gift. “I didn’t—”

Harry placed a finger over Louis’ lips. “Hush. I didn’t expect you to. Now, please, before I die from anticipation, open it.”

Louis’ fingers shook as he slowly peeled the tape back, not wanting to lose a minute of this moment. Inside, nestled in a padded box, rested a glass ornament shaped like a book. It was open, the pages blank. Louis looked up, heart swelling with love for the beautiful man in front of him.

“Be my next chapter, Lou.”

Louis looked down at the ornament in his hands, at the greater gift it offered. Wordlessly, he set it aside and took Harry’s hand, pulling him into his lap. He stroked a tentative finger down Harry’s cheek, then slid his hand around his neck to draw him closer. Their lips met, the kiss reverent and tender.

“Yes. Absolutely, yes.”