Chapter Text
"And then we went to this art museum, Louis, and he put his arm around me --"
"How lovely."
"It really was! And then we had lunch in these gardens, surrounded by all these beautiful flowers --"
"Fantastic."
"--and then he told me I looked nice, and like..."
Harry trails off and sighs dreamily. Louis wants to throw up.
"He's perfect, Louis. I didn't think I'd ever find anyone like him."
Louis briefly turns away to hide the grimace spreading across his face, and when he's sure he's composed his features into something that can (barely) pass as genuine, he faces Harry once more. "That's fabulous, Haz. I'm glad that you and Nick are happy."
Harry's grin gets wider, and he gently rests a hand on Louis' arm. Louis pretends like it isn't burning into his skin. "Thanks, Louis. Really."
Louis shrugs, and scratches his nose.
They're silent for a moment, then Harry lightly nudges Louis' leg with his foot. "Hey," he says quietly, in that soft voice that makes Louis' heart hurt. "What's up?"
Shit. "What do you mean?"
Harry's smile fades a bit. "Just wanted to know if you were okay, is all. You seem kind of...off."
Louis forces himself to smile, and gives Harry a tiny nod. "I'm great. Promise."
Harry's eyes flit about Louis' face, and then come to rest upon Louis' eyes, as if searching for something. Louis smirks, and flicks Harry's cheek. "What, you don't believe me?"
Harry's mask of concern cracks here, and he smiles a little. "Nah, of course I do, you freak. I've never not believed you; why should I start now?"
Louis feels like he's been punched in the gut. "Good, that's what I thought."
After a few more seconds of silence, Louis coughs. "Well, I -- I best be getting to class, then. The bell's going to be ringing soon."
"Alright Lou. I'll see you in English?"
"Yeah, see you."
With that, Harry gives Louis a sparkly grin, grabs his satchel, and walks away, leaving Louis to stand there alone and watch him go.
****
Every time Louis sees Harry at school, he's with Nick.
Every time Louis and Harry have a conversation, they're talking about Nick.
Every time Louis and Harry hang out, Nick's with them.
Basically, what Louis' trying to get at here, is that Harry's with Nick quite a lot. And that doesn't sit well with him.
And, okay, maybe he's exaggerating a bit. He and Harry do get to hang out one-on-one, and they do talk about lots of things other than Nick. They have been best friends for four years, after all, from eighth grade until now, in eleventh grade. But a lot of the time, Nick's with them somehow, either physically or just through Harry blabbing on about him. And the way Harry's eyes light up every time Nick's around or every time Nick is mentioned makes Louis feel like he's repeatedly being jabbed in the gut.
The worst part, though, is that Louis can't even do anything about it.
****
"Oh, hey Louis. Can I talk to you?"
Louis swallows thickly and forces himself to not look at Harry as he opens his locker. "Sure, what's up?"
He hears Harry cough, and then he hears the shuffling of feet, and he can't keep himself from looking back any longer. He turns around to see Harry behind him, hands clasped behind his back and muss of curls in his face, covering half of one of his eyes.
Louis raises his eyebrows expectantly, feeling like he knows where this is going. A feeling of dread settles in the pit of his tiny ninth-grader stomach as he attempts to push down all of his nerves.
He's known that since the eighth grade, Harry's gotten flustered and nervous around him. He knows that the way Harry smiles at him is different, much different from the way anyone else does. But the thing is, that upsets him.
Harry's his best friend -- nothing more. And Louis doesn't want it to be anything more. He's comfortable with where their friendship is at, and he loves having Harry around and everything. But he does not want anything more with him, not even in the slightest. How could he jeopardize what they have like that?
"I've been wanting to talk to you about this for a while now," Harry says in a voice that sounds much too tiny for his extraordinarily tall self. Louis swallows thickly. "Well, you can -- you can go ahead and talk to me about it now."
Harry nods and then sighs, pushing his hair out of his face so that Louis has a clear view of his eyes, and Louis' heart flutters a bit when he looks into them, but he pushes the feeling down.
"I -- um."
Harry's greens are clouded with fear, and Louis just wants to hug him, hug him and apologize and change the subject, and never talk about this again.
"I really like you Louis."
Louis has to work to stop himself from cringing.
"Yeah, I like you too Harry," Louis says, trying to keep his tone light and playful. His voice cracks mid-sentence though, betraying him.
"No, I mean." Harry takes a deep breath. "I mean, as more than a friend. I really like you."
Louis swallows thickly. "Oh."
He watches as the hopeful light in Harry's eyes dims, and feels a sharp guilt jolt through his body.
"So..." Harry says quietly, shifting from side to side uncomfortably.
Louis sighs, shutting his locker door and turning around to face Harry. "Haz, I care about you a lot. You know that."
Harry nods, looking down at his feet. "But not like that, then?" he says quietly, in a broken voice. The worst part about it is that he asks as if he's clinging to one last spiderweb-thick strand of hope, and Louis almost wants to revoke his statement and tell Harry that yes, he likes him in that way too.
But Harry's far too kind, and Louis could never lie to him. He has to tell him the truth; it's what's best for the both of them.
Louis bites his lip and waits for Harry to look back up at him before answering. He's never seen Harry so vulnerable before, and it makes Louis feel like the biggest dick in the entire fucking universe. "Yeah, not in that way," Louis says softly. "I'm sorry."
Harry nods slowly and clears his throat. "No, don't be sorry, Lou. S'not your fault, it's mine."
Louis' eyebrows shoot up at this, because, um, what? Is he joking?
"Haz, you're kidding, right? You don't actually think you're at fault here, do you?"
Harry shrugs, looking past Louis' face into the wall of lockers behind him.
Louis takes a step closer to him. "Now look here, Harry Styles," he says firmly. "You're my best friend, alright? Nothing you say or do is going to change that. This," he gestures to him and Harry, "is not going to change that. The only thing that could change that is, well, if you decide you don't want to talk to me anymore."
Harry shakes his head rapidly here, sniffling a bit. The sound makes Louis' body jolt again, wrought with guilt.
"I fully intend," Louis continues, "On us continuing to be friends, just as we've always been. No one's going to pull that stupid 'I'm going to ignore you because there's awkwardness' bullshit here, yeah? We're best friends. We talk to each other about everything. And I'm very glad you were honest, and told me the truth right now."
Harry gives Louis a small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"What I'm trying to say here, is, if you're scared that I hate you now or something because of what you told me, then you're dead fucking wrong. I could never hate you, H."
Harry lets out a tiny exhale. "Yeah, um. That's good, then."
Louis smiles. "So, friends?"
Harry nods. "Of course," he says so quietly that it's almost a whisper, and he holds his arms out for a hug. Louis steps into them, wrapping his arms around Harry's torso. Harry holds onto him tightly, burying his face into Louis' shoulder, and Louis doesn't make a move to stop him.
When Harry finally pulls back, his eyes are kind of damp. "Thanks Lou," he says quietly, before taking a few steps backwards. "My ride's here, I've got to go. Text you tonight?"
"Please do," Louis says, giving him a smile.
And Harry smiles back -- a genuine one this time -- before leaving.
Louis stands, alone, and watches him walk away.
****
Louis thinks about this moment often, about this one time that Harry told him he had feelings for him. He thinks about it while he's at his locker, standing there and gazing emptily at the textbooks and binders carelessly thrown into it -- "I was standing right here when Harry told me he liked me," or, "I was standing right here when I broke Harry's heart."
If there's anything Louis would go back in time and re-do, it would be that conversation. He'd slap himself in the face and tug himself forward by his shirt and yell, "Don't you fucking see, you idiot, that he's it for you?! That he's all you've ever wanted?! That in two year's time, he'll be with someone who doesn't deserve someone like him?! That he should be with you, but you went and fucked it up?!"
He'll stand there at his locker and turn around and look at that empty spot where Harry stood, or he'll be watching Harry and Nick flirt in class, or he'll look at Harry giving Nick the smile that was once Louis' smile, that Harry gave to Louis only -- and he'll wonder what happened.
****
Louis bursts into the school bathroom, breathing heavily. He briefly scans the room and checks under the stall doors to make sure nobody's inside before letting out a strangled squeal and kicking his way into the largest one, slamming the door behind him and violently tugging the latch into place.
He pushes the toilet seat down and plops down on top of it, burying his face in his hands as tears run down his cheeks. He's crying, crying so loud but he can't help it, and he knows that if anyone walks into the bathroom right now, he's screwed.
He knows he shouldn't be crying; he has to go back to class in five minutes or so. His math teacher is kind of a dick, and will get suspicious if he's gone for any longer.
He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes strands of hair out of his face, swallowing thickly and attempting to even out his breathing. He feels like he's suffocating, like oxygen is just barely making it into his lungs, like his heart is about to shrivel up and explode inside of his chest.
He can't believe he let himself succumb to such bullshit. He can't believe he let someone have so much control over his emotions, over him. He just felt so important, being a tenth grader who was asked out by an eleventh grader. How was he supposed to know that someone he trusted, someone like Stan who was supposed to be his friend, was going to rip his heart out like this?
Well, no more. Stan can go fuck himself. Louis lets out another choked sob at the thought.
Who even fucking breaks up with someone at school? What kind of fucking dick even is Stan? How could Louis have ever thought he was genuine? He lied to him, he lied and broke his promises and left Louis in the dust.
Louis wipes at his eyes, and after another minute or so, thinks he's calmed down enough. He steps out of the stall and looks in the mirror, and takes in his wet face and puffy eyelids, and sighs.
He turns the faucet of the sink closest to him, bending down to splash some cool water on his face. That helps some, but it's still obvious that he's been crying, and then when people see, they'll start gossiping and everything will go to shit.
He's frantically thinking about what he's going to do when eyes instinctively catch movement in the corner of the mirror, and he spins around quickly.
When he sees who's standing there, he feels a fresh round of tears burning threateningly behind his eyes.
Harry's frozen, standing near the door with wide eyes, arms hanging lamely at his sides. What makes Louis want to cry, though, is that all Louis sees written on Harry's face is concern, and fuck, he's so lucky to have Harry in his life.
"How long have you been standing there?" Louis asks quietly, and Harry answers without so much as blinking. "A while."
Louis nods, and says nothing more.
Then, Harry takes a deep breath, and whispers, "Stan?" He says it so quietly, as if he's afraid that saying it too loudly would make everything worse.
But, really, as if it makes any fucking difference.
Louis feels his lip trembling, and Harry takes a quick step forward, holding a hand out. "No, love, please. Don't. You don't want him to think he's won, do you?"
Louis lets out a shaky breath. "I didn't know it was a competition," he says quietly, and Harry shakes his head slowly. His eyes, Louis thinks, are the brightest things in the room; they turn everything else gray. "It isn't. But he's a dick, so, he'll try to make it into one. You're better than that, better than him."
Pause.
"Yeah, that's -- that's definitely something he'd do."
Harry bites his lip, taking another step forward. Louis fidgets. More silence.
"Haz, how -- how'd you know I was here?"
"I didn't. I left class to go to the bathroom, and I walked in, and I heard you crying, and. I knew it was you."
"H-how?"
Harry gives Louis a small smile. "After knowing you for this long, I'm pretty sure I could identify your voice from miles away. Like bats, and dolphins."
Louis lets out a watery laugh, and Harry's smile widens, and he walks over to Louis now, all hesitance gone. He wraps Louis in his arms, and Louis buries himself in Harry's tall, wide body. He sniffles into Harry's sweatshirt, slightly self-conscious because he's probably getting tears and snot all over it, but it feels nice so he doesn't pull away. Their heights match so perfectly, in such a way that the top of Louis' head is directly under Harry's chin -- and it makes Louis feel safe.
"You're so much better than him," Harry mutters, and Louis squeezes him tighter. "He doesn't deserve you. I'm not going to let him hurt you again."
After a few seconds more, Louis pulls back, and yup, Louis sees the dark snot/tear spot on the gray material on Harry's chest and cringes. He tries to wipe at it, but that doesn't help, and Harry laughs. "Don't worry about it, really."
"Sorry," Louis says quietly, looking up into Harry's eyes. Something warm flutters in Louis' stomach, and that's -- that's fucking weird.
It's incredible, what he and Harry have. It's been nearly a year since Harry told Louis he had feelings for him, but they haven't talked about that day since. They just went back to being how they've always been, and Louis doesn't know if Harry still has feelings for him now -- and at this point, it doesn't matter. All he cares about is that Harry's in his life, and he's incredibly thankful that it didn't cause a rift in their friendship -- they're closer than ever.
"Thank you," Louis says then, and he means it, with everything he's got. Yeah, he still feels like shit, but Harry's made him feel a little lighter, like he can breathe again.
"Always," Harry says with a smile, before walking toward the door. "I should be heading back. You good? Or do you want me to walk with you to class?"
"Nah, I'm fine, Haz."
"Okay," Harry says, before taking a few final steps toward the door and grabbing the handle. He pauses, though, and turns back. "Don't be too hard on yourself, yeah? Love you Lou."
He says it so casually, and it shouldn't be a big deal because they say "I love you" to each other all the fucking time. But this time -- this time, it's different. There's a sort of weight on the statement, some sort of importance, something else.
"Love you too," Louis says quietly, nearly choking on the words. The second they leave his lips, he feels like something's happened -- something's changed. His stomach feels like it's expanding, and he wants to say something else, but before he can, Harry's pulling the door open.
And Louis stands there and watches him go.
****
"We should probably finish the stuff for the project by Sunday," Louis says as he walks with Harry to their first period class. He's reading the bullshit directions for this group project they have to do for history as they walk, and he nearly runs into -- well, basically everything.
Harry sighs. "Do we have to?" he whines, and Louis smiles up at him fondly. "Don't be a child," he says, and Harry just rolls his eyes. He can't stop himself from grinning back, though, and that sends Louis' heart a-flutter.
"Louis, we should go and get breakfast together some time," Harry says out of nowhere, and Louis' chest clenches up. "What?" he says, pretending to still be reading from the paper. Harry snatches the paper from his hands, and elbows Louis. "We should go out to breakfast together. I went to this great place with Nick last weekend, it's got the best pancakes ever. I want to take you there."
The smile drops off of Louis' face, and he presses his lips together. "Hm. Sounds interesting."
"Oh my god!" Harry exclaims suddenly, and Louis starts. "What happened?!"
"Look! It's Nick!" he says excitedly, pointing ahead of them. Louis peers over the crowd of people around them and sees Nick's obnoxiously big head walking quite a ways ahead of them, hair flopping this way and that.
He doesn't expect Harry to start walking faster -- to basically start running, actually, in his effort to catch up to Nick. He doesn't expect Harry to just leave him without so much as a goodbye. He doesn't expect to watch Harry poke Nick's side, and he doesn't expect to see Nick's eyes light up delightedly when he sees it's Harry.
And he doesn't expect to feel worthless, to feel like he doesn't mean anything to Harry at all anymore, to feel like Nick's stolen the happiness that's rightfully his.
And he doesn't expect to feel like he brought this upon himself. As if, in a sick way, this is Louis' poetic justice -- like he deserves all of the frustration and anger and betrayal he's feeling.
But he does.
And he decides that he's going to do something about it.