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“It was literally the worst date I’ve ever had in my entire life and that includes the guy in college who puked on my shoe.” Harry huffs and falls backwards onto the couch, not really caring that he lands half on top of Liam.
Being the amazing friend and roommate that he is, Liam merely adjusts his position to allow Harry to lay his head in his lap. He brushes Harry’s hair off his forehead and looks down at him through narrowed eyes. “Find that hard to believe.”
“It was.” Harry nods. “That guy puked on one shoe, which was leather, and yeah, I had to clean it, but I was able to clean it myself. This guy? Dick.”
“You said his name was Rick.”
“Yeah, well, he’s Dick to me because of what he did.”
“Tell me again, then. I know you want to.”
“He came on my face without permission, Li. I’d been trying to go out with that asshole for weeks! What was I thinking? On my face! With no warning! And after only like two minutes of me sucking him off.”
“And…”
“And he got it in my eye, and he wiped it off with my—”
“Brand new, silk Gucci shirt!” Liam says it with him and Harry tries to ignore that he uses the exact words, cadence, and emphasis that Harry does, but he can’t. It was the worst night of his life.
“Fuck off,” Harry grumbles and sits up.
“Sorry, H, but you should’ve used a condom.” Liam reaches over and pats Harry’s knee. “The shirt’s alright now though, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, now. After I tried hand washing it and couldn’t get his nasty spunk out of the embroidery and had to take it to the dry cleaner!”
“Still, it’s clean. It’s over. You’re not seeing him again, are you?”
“Fuck no! Jesus. I want nothing to do with him. I didn’t even come. My dick went limp as soon as I saw what he’d done to my shirt.”
Liam snorts and shakes his head. “Still. You have to let it go, man.”
“I can’t just let it go. It was only a few weeks ago.” Harry turns and look Liam dead in the eyes and says, “Plus, I have to find a new dry cleaner.”
“Well, what about some petty revenge then? Sign his email up for a bunch of websites so he gets a ton of spam.”
“I don’t know his email. I do know where he lives.”
Slowly, Liam leans away and says, “Are you… going to have him killed?”
“No!” Harry smacks him on the arm with both hands. “Liam!”
“Just checking.”
“No, I just… He told me.” Harry sighs. “It’s a nicer part of town. He was probably bragging.”
“Okay, so what are you planning to do with this information?”
“I’m not sure… If I wasn’t such a nice guy, I’d egg his car or put a flaming bag of dog shit on his doormat.”
“Oh! Oh, shit. Okay. I’ve got it.” Liam claps his hands and grins a little maniacally. “A glitter bomb.”
“What?”
“You can have them delivered. They’re hilarious and awful. Guy I know got fired and sent one to his old boss. Apparently, he had a friend still working there who filmed it. Glitter went everywhere and they never figured out who sent it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, hold on. I’ll find it…” Liam grabs for his phone and after a moment, he passes it over to Harry. “See? You can even triple the glitter!”
Triple the glitter. Not only that, but there’s another larger glitter bomb with five times as much glitter, along with an equal amount of confetti inside. And they offer sperm shaped confetti. It’s as if this company was started just for this particular type of revenge. Nothing harmful. Nothing hateful. Just a big fucking sparkly mess. It’s perfect. Harry orders one immediately, choosing the expedited shipping just because he can, and includes a note that says I hope these sperm are as difficult to clean up as yours were.
It should arrive on Monday, which means that Dick will pick up the package along with his mail when he gets home from work Monday evening. And he’s definitely one of those people who hate Mondays on principle.
There’s no former coworker there to film it for Harry to watch, but he has a good feeling that his revenge prank worked just fine, because despite Dick’s multiple promises to be in touch, he never calls or texts Harry again.
—
“Liam?” Harry calls out from his bedroom where he’s standing, staring at pretty much every single piece of clothing that he owns, spread across his bed. “Liam, I need help!”
Their apartment isn’t large by any stretch of the imagination. There’s no way that Liam doesn’t hear him, but he takes his sweet time replying. “Wear the silk Gucci shirt!”
“I can’t! It’s bad luck now. Dick ruined it.” Harry pouts and picks up the shirt. He still loves it, it’s still beautiful, and still his favorite piece of clothing in his closet. But he’s worn it on a few disastrous first dates since then.
Tonight, he doesn’t even know who he’s going on a date with. A blind date, which Harry wasn’t aware was still a thing these days, but apparently it is. Liam won’t even tell him what this mysterious new coworker’s name is or what he looks like, other than to say that he’s attractive, with short brown hair, blue eyes, and he’ll be wearing a dark red, scoop-neck shirt under a black blazer.
“I told him you were wearing it, so you have to wear it, Harry.” Liam crosses his arms and leans his shoulder against the door jamb. “I said you’d have on that shirt, those tight jeans you like so much, and your black coat.”
Harry takes a deep breath, puffs his cheeks out as he slowly exhales, then says, “Alright, fine. I’ll wear the come shirt.”
—
They're supposed to meet at a small Italian restaurant within walking distance of Harry’s apartment because Harry insisted that, if Liam was the one arranging everything, he needed to at least insure that Harry had an easy way home. Harry stands outside the restaurant, trying to discreetly peek through the window at the patrons, searching for brown hair and a black blazer, but the lights are too dim and he can’t see anything. He scrubs his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside.
“Good evening, sir,” the host greets him with a smile, dropping his gaze to Harry’s chest, and suddenly Harry feels like he’s dressed inappropriately. Looking around the room, he sees that almost everyone is wearing a blazer or a dinner jacket. He should’ve worn something else. Something opaque. But before Harry can excuse himself and hurry home to change, the host asks, “Are you joining us for dinner?”
“Yes, sorry, um… My friend made reservations. Payne, party of two?”
The host looks down to check, nods, and says, “Yes, sir. Would you like me to take your coat?”
Harry nods and shrugs it from his shoulders, thankful that at least the lighting is dim and he won’t be subjecting all of the other diners to all four of his nipples under bright lighting.
“If you’ll follow me, sir. Your dinner companion arrived just a few minutes before you.”
Harry’s stomach flips and he inhales sharply. He wanted to get to the restaurant first because he felt like it would give him a slight upper hand, and he is early by about ten minutes. Maybe his date had the same idea. Once the host is a good distance in front of him, Harry lifts his chin slightly and pushes his shoulders back, shaking out his curls, hoping to make a somewhat decent first impression. It’s wasted effort. The table that the host is leading him to is a cozy booth tucked into an alcove. All that Harry can see is part of an arm encased in black. He sighs and wonders if Liam specifically requested this table. Knowing Liam, he probably did.
“Here you are, sir,” the host gestures towards the table and Harry nods, unable to thank him with words. In his peripheral vision he sees his date’s arm shift sideways, and it’s as if the whole world slows down as the arm continues to move to the side, bumping into the glass of water beside it. He knocks into it hard enough that it actually catches air, moving in a small arc as it flies a few feet away from the table, landing in a spectacular explosion on the floor.
“Oops!” Harry says, his voice too loud in the silence that follows the crash.
He watches, with his hand covering his mouth, as his date clambers out of his seat, almost upending the table in the process. He steadies the table, then turns and squats down, reaching to pick up one of the larger pieces of broken glass.
“Sir, please don’t worry about it,” the host reassures him, waving him away from the mess. As if from thin air, two other restaurant employees appear at his side and begin to clear it all away, while Harry stares on helplessly. “If it’s alright, sirs, I’ll return with another glass of water in a moment.”
Harry nods and, for the first time, gets a look at his date. Of course, he’s gorgeous. Fuck. Harry can feel himself starting to blush and sweat uncontrollably, feeling embarrassed, as if he’s the one who broke the water glass.
“Hi.” His date smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and extends his hand towards Harry. “Unforgettable first impression, I suppose. I’m Louis Tomlinson. Your date, I think. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to end it here.”
“Hi, um…” Harry shakes Louis’ hand, searching his brain for words, but coming up with nothing.
Louis sighs and, when Harry remains silent as he releases his hand, he shrugs and shakes his head. “Alright. I’m really sorry to have ruined your night. I’ll...” He jerks his head towards the exit.
Just as he starts to turn away, Harry is finally able to speak. Except he shouts, “Harry!”
“No, my name is Louis.”
“I’m Harry. Sorry. Harry Styles. Please, don’t go. The night’s not ruined. You could maybe say that you… broke the ice?”
Louis stares at him for a moment. “That was horrible, Harold. There wasn’t even any ice in the glass.”
“Harry,” Harry corrects him quietly, fighting the disappointment of his joke not going over well.
“Louis,” Louis says.
Harry is good with words. He uses them every day. Big, long ones, even. Jesus. Louis is going to leave and Harry really wants him to stay because, even with the broken water glass and the fact that neither of them knew a single thing about the other prior to their dramatic meeting, this is the best date Harry’s been on in a long time. Louis was kind to the host, apologetic about the broken glass which he attempted to clean up himself, self-deprecating in the best way, and he’s hot. The best looking guy Harry’s been on a date with, ever.
And yet, all Harry can manage to say is, “I…”
“I’m kidding, Harold,” Louis says, and he smiles. Only it’s nothing like the first one. This smile starts slow, revealing sharp white teeth as his grin widens, eventually taking over his entire face, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle and drawing attention to his unfairly long eyelashes.
Harry is saved from having to speak at all by the reappearance of the host, who carefully places another glass of water on the table. “Please, have a seat. Your server will be with you in just a moment.”
“Thank you,” Harry manages to say, and when he sits, he hopes that the dim light of the candle in the center of the table disguises his cheeks, which he knows are bright pink.
Not only is Louis beautiful, but over the course of the few hours that they spend at dinner, Harry learns that he’s sweet and kind and warm and funny and that he seems to think that Harry isn’t all that bad either. They share a bottle of wine, but by the time that they’ve eaten appetizers, salads, dinner, and dessert, and argued over the check—which they split—Harry’s completely sober again. And he wants to take Louis to his apartment and never let him leave, but not in a creepy kidnapper or serial killer way. Except that Liam is definitely at home, especially after the multiple warnings that Harry gave him earlier that evening, and Harry doesn’t want to deal with that.
Thankfully, after the fourth time they unsuccessfully attempt to say goodbye and part ways, Louis offers, “Come to my place? I’ve got coffee. Or tea. Or more wine.”
All Harry can do is nod.
It’s not far to Louis’ apartment, just a bit further than Harry’s, but in a different direction and in a much nicer part of town. Harry’s too caught up in Louis, too distracted by his voice, his presence, his gorgeous face, to pay attention to exactly where he is, but he figures he can take an Uber home later anyway. Louis’ building has an elevator that doesn’t smell suspiciously like piss or weed, and when it dings to let them know they’ve arrived at the correct floor, he takes Harry’s hand and leads him down the hall.
“Your place is amazing!” Harry slips his coat off of his shoulders and Louis takes it from him, draping it over the chair closest to the door, while Harry makes himself comfortable. “And you live alone?”
Louis nods as pours them each a glass of wine and joins Harry on the sofa. “I do. For now, at least. I’m not sure I can afford it indefinitely, but after the last roommate I had…” He sighs and closes his eyes. “You don’t want to hear about that.”
“I do. I mean, if you want to tell me. You don’t have to if it’s like… uncomfortable for you.”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” Louis shakes his head and smiles reassuringly, then sips his wine before continuing. “He was a slob, but like, amplified. As soon as he moved in, I knew it was a mistake. Spent more time arguing with him about helping out with chores than it took to do them. Ended up cleaning up after him just to keep the smell and the bugs away. Didn’t matter in the end.”
“That’s awful. I’m happy he’s gone.” Harry turns to face Louis and leans in a bit. “What’d you do when he moved out? Throw yourself a party?”
“Not quite. Sure you want to know?” When Harry nods, Louis angles himself toward Harry and inches closer. “He lived here for about four months and I guess with all of the crusty dishes on the counter beside the sink and the beard trimmings all over the bathroom and the, well, I’ll just say that since I was a bit preoccupied by the mess out here.” Louis lifts his hand and draws a large circle in the air above his head, then drops his arm and points at the door on the far side of the living room. “I never noticed that I hadn’t seen the inside of his room since the day he moved in.”
Harry gasps dramatically and holds his hand to his mouth. “No… Was it bad?”
The laugh that leaves Louis’ mouth is loud and sharp and short. “Bad isn’t the word I’d use. It was absolutely foul. Went through half a box of disposable latex gloves, had to wear a mask just to fucking breathe.”
“Oh god, that’s terrible! What was he doing in that room?”
“Well, he was keeping some kind of pet—a rodent?—because I found some, um… used wood shavings. And shit.” Louis clears his throat, squeezes his eyes shut and shudders. “Lost track of the number of take-out containers I found. There was a potato—one of the big, brown, baking ones? Sitting on the window sill. Not sure why. It had sprouts growing and, well, let’s just say I’m glad I was wearing gloves. Wish they’d been enough.”
Quietly, because he’s not sure if he actually wants to know, Harry asks, “Why?”
“Potato skin held together long enough for me to pick it up, but it liquified in my hand. Just like, melted. Ran down my arm. My shirt and jeans were ruined. I mean, it’s possible I could’ve washed them, but the smell… I dropped what was left of the potato and ran for the shower. That was the first day. After that I wore garbage bags. Still ended up throwing out all of the clothes I wore over those three days.”
“Louis… that’s…”
“Yeah… I called a cleaning service. You know, just to see about the price, but with him moving out so suddenly, leaving me with double rent, I couldn’t swing it.”
“That’s…” Harry frowns and reaches over to pat Louis’ knee. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so angry that someone did that to you. Left you with that mess… what a horrible thing to do to someone.”
“And I’d just started my new job, so I was there all day, but I was still working nights at my old job to help them out until they hired a replacement, and I needed the money. Hardly slept for those three days.”
“I can’t imagine.” Harry makes a show of looking around the room and sniffing the air. “Smells clean now, though. And like I said, this place is amazing. This rug is gorgeous and the hardwood floors are in such good shape. I hope he didn’t damage them.”
Louis snorts and shakes his head. “No, no. Not sure how, but the floor in there is fine. Maybe the six-inch layer of dirt and dust protected the floor from everything else. No, the floors…” He shakes his head again and drops his chin to his chest, then looks up at Harry. “I should shut up. Let you talk for a bit.”
“No, keep going. Bet it feels good to let it out. I mean, sounds like the guy was a real dick.” Louis’ old roommate sounds familiar in a way that twists Harry’s insides. He hopes this guy wasn’t his real Dick. “Tell me about the floors.”
“Well, it’s not really about the floors. Just… sort of. So, like I said, after it was clean, I spent a couple weeks going over it with bleach-water because of the smell, but then one Monday morning, I woke up and it was gone. The room smelled clean. The stench hadn’t penetrated the layers of bleach-water I’d wiped everything with before I’d gone to bed the night before.”
“I bet that was a huge relief.” Harry pulls at his bottom lip, hoping for clues, a name or a distinguishing characteristic other than ‘disgusting asshole’ so that he can be sure that Louis is talking about someone other than the Dick who came on his face and wiped it off with the very silk, Gucci shirt that Harry is wearing right now.
“It really was.” Louis nods, but then he stops and rubs his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Things were looking up. New job. Clean apartment. I had a pretty good day at work that Monday. Came home, got my mail, even got a package. Figured it was something from my sister or my mom, but then I looked and it was addressed to ‘that gorgeous guy in apartment twenty-eight’ and I thought I had a secret admirer, you know?”
Harry’s brain screeches to a halt because he knows what Louis is about to say. Somehow, despite how hard he hoped that it wasn’t true, of all of the people in the city, Harry has ended up on a date with the accidental recipient of Dick’s glitter bomb.
“So, I open it, right? And it explodes. Glitter and confetti. I was standing right there,” Louis says and points to the floor in the center of the room. “So, it goes in all directions at once, and there was so much of it, it went everywhere. Both bedrooms. The bathroom. This rug that you like? I almost threw it out because I was so frustrated. The glitter and confetti kept clogging up the vacuum. Took me longer to clean it up than it did to clean up the mess that dickhead left behind.”
Louis is too caught up in his story to notice Harry’s predicament, laughing ruefully as he tells the rest. “Turns out, that package was meant for him. There was a note inside, said something like… that they hoped these sperm were as hard to clean up as his were. ’Cause that’s what the confetti were. Little, white, sperm-shaped confetti mixed with rainbow glitter.”
“Oh god…” Harry squeaks a little, then coughs. There’s a small possibility that he’s going to throw up. It takes him a few seconds to notice that he’s still staring at Louis, hand gripping the placket of his silk, Gucci shirt so tightly that his fingernails are sure to leave marks on the palm of his hand. He releases the fabric, but doesn’t move his hand from his chest because that’s a normal reaction. If anyone else heard Louis tell this story, they’d probably be shocked.
“Enough about him,” Louis says and raises his eyebrows slightly. “If I never have to think about him again it’ll be too soon.”
Harry takes a deep breath and searches his mind for another conversation topic, something tangential that he can easily segue into without being obvious that he’s changing the subject, but as has been the case all evening so far, he has trouble finding the words. “I… I don’t know what to say. Hard to top that.”
Though he definitely could. Louis might even find it funny, or at least be slightly amused by the coincidence. Surely he wouldn’t hold it against Harry, since there was no way for him to know that Dick had moved out in such a fantastically horrible fashion. He’s embarrassed, but almost moreso about the fact that he’d blown Dick on their first date without using a condom.
Louis grins and nods. “It’s a pretty incredible story. Tough to beat.”
“Yeah, I think my life is kind of boring comparatively.” Usually it is. Ever since his date with Dick, his life has taken a turn.
“What about tonight? Has tonight been boring?”
Harry shakes his head quickly. “No, no, definitely not. Best date I’ve been on in a while. Though that’s not saying much, considering some of the dates I’ve had lately.” Harry bites his bottom lip hard to stop himself from saying anything else. Part of him wants to spill everything to Louis, but that would be a mistake and would probably move this date right to the top of Harry’s list of shitty dates.
“Really? Why don’t you tell me about them? Bad dates are always kind of fun to look back on once they’re over with.”
“Um… I went out with this guy a few weeks back who was so boring that I almost fell asleep during dinner.”
Louis huffs a little laugh through his nose. “He was so boring that even that story is boring.”
“Yeah… I, um… Before that, I went out with a guy who talked about himself so much that I could recite his entire life story for you, but I doubt he even remembers my name.”
“Wow, Harry. Tonight must look amazing compared to those guys,” Louis deadpans and rolls his eyes. “You’ve never had a bad date? No dates dreadful enough to send them a revenge glitter bomb?”
The whole night has been such a mind fuck that Harry’s isn’t even surprised at the possibility that Louis knows that he’s the one who sent the glitter bomb. It’s just so… disappointing. He thought they were getting along well, but now he wonders if it was all fake, all for show, all to lull Harry into a false sense of security before dropping the bomb about the bomb.
“I have to go.” Harry practically leaps off the couch. “I have to go home. I…” He grabs his coat, throws open Louis’ apartment door, and sprints down the hall, almost crying in relief when he reaches the elevator and the doors are open. Just as he pushes the button for the lobby, he hears Louis calling his name. Harry slams his hand against the ‘door close’ button over and over again, falling back against the wall of the elevator when they shut before Louis catches up.
The walk home passes in a blur. Thankfully, Liam’s already gone to bed, so Harry quietly lets himself in, tiptoes into his room, yanks his stupid, silk, Gucci shirt over his head without unbuttoning it, balls it up and throws it at the wastebasket in the corner of the room.
—
Somehow, Harry manages to completely avoid Liam the next day. He manages by getting up at the ass crack of dawn, silently dressing and slipping out of the apartment before Liam wakes up, and staying out all day. With his sister on one end of town, his mom on the other, and countless coffee shops and bookstores in between, Harry keeps himself occupied until close to midnight. By the time he decides to go home, he’s positive that Liam’s asleep.
Still, he’s careful to make as little noise as possible when unlocking the door and sneaking inside their apartment.
“Harry?”
“Shit,” Harry mumbles to himself as he closes the door behind him. He raises his voice and says, “Yeah, it’s me.”
“You spent all day with your mom?” Liam asks as he stands up from the couch. “Was waiting for you. Wanted to hear about your date with Louis.”
Harry sighs and throws his coat over the back of the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it, Li. One more name on the list of bad dates.”
“No shit, really?”
“Yeah…” It would probably be better if he told Liam the truth, but he’s still so embarrassed about the whole thing, he’s not sure he could get through telling him without bursting into tears.
“Man, I really thought you and Louis would get along. That sucks.”
“It does.” Harry stretches his arms overhead. All of the walking around he did wore him out. He could only stay so long at his mom’s house before she started to get suspicious, and he only lasted an hour in his sister’s presence before he cracked and spilled everything.
Surprisingly, it didn’t make him feel better at all to tell her about Dick and Louis and the glitter bomb. That may have something to do with her reaction. She choked on her coffee and spit it across the table at him and wouldn’t stop laughing at him until he got up from his seat to leave. Finally, she calmed herself down enough to tell him that he should just come clean. That word sent her into another fit of giggles, but once they were out of her system, she told him what he already knew. The truth will come out eventually, especially with Louis and Liam working together.
“I’m going to bed, Li. It’s been a long day.”
“Alright, H. Sorry about Louis. Want me to set you up with someone else?”
“No, that’s, um… I’m going to just… not date anyone for a little while.” There’s no use in dragging anyone else into his life when it’s this much of a disaster.
Liam nods and follows Harry out of the living room. They split off into their separate bedrooms and Harry’s spared himself one more day of dealing with the aftermath.
The reprieve lasts about twelve hours.
Mondays aren’t usually hectic for Harry, but he can’t keep himself in the right frame of mind and his work suffers. Before noon, he’s accidentally hung up on one client, sent an unfinished email to another, and mistakenly selected ‘reply all’ on an in-house email that he spends the rest of the morning embarrassed about. When lunch rolls around, he keeps working, figuring that the last thing he needs is an hour long break in which to focus on his shortcomings.
A few minutes before one o’clock, his desk phone rings, and he answers without thinking, “Harry Styles speaking.”
“You’re not avoiding me tonight, Harry.” Liam’s voice has that lecture tone that Harry knows he uses with his students when they disappoint him.
Harry takes a deep breath and exhales loudly into the phone. “Fine. I might be late though. Work’s been absolute shit today.”
“I’ll stop and pick up dinner. Think you’ll be home by seven?”
“Probably.”
“See you then.”
“Bye, Li.” Harry hangs up and drops his head onto his desk, but shoots back up as soon as his forehead smashes into his keyboard. “Fuck.”
—
It’s almost eight o’clock when he drags himself through their apartment door, but Liam’s there with food and a beer in his outstretched hand. It’s the best part of his day, so he tries to enjoy the few minutes Liam allows him to kick off his shoes and shed his coat.
“Sit.” Liam pats the cushion next to him and Harry sits down warily, scooting a little further away from him. “Louis seems to think you two had a good time Saturday night. Want to tell me why you’ve got such differing opinions?”
“No.”
“Right. Tell me anyway.”
Harry crosses his arms and frowns. “I sent him the glitter bomb.”
“What?”
“Not on purpose! He was… ugh!” Harry buries his face in his hands and growls. “Louis was roommates with that asshole. He moved out and left the place in such a mess that it took Louis forever to clean it up and then, once it was clean?”
Liam blinks at him, clearly waiting for the rest of the story. It only takes him a moment to put it together. “Oh, no… No way!”
“Yes, way, Liam. My revenge glitter bomb exploded all over his—” Harry huffs indignantly and raises his voice to talk over to Liam’s cackles. “It’s not funny! He’d had such a shitty time and I made it worse. He’d hate me if he knew.”
“Nah, I doubt it. Louis is a cool guy. He’d understand.” Liam shakes his head and wipes the tears from his eyes. “So the date was good otherwise?”
“The date was great otherwise. He’s amazing. Doesn’t matter though.”
“Of course it matters.” Liam reaches over and squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “You should tell him. He’s confused. And I’m sure a little hurt after you ran out of there.”
Harry presses the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I’ll try. Like, I don’t know what I’ll say, but I’ll try. Okay? I don’t want there to be any hard feelings. Especially since you work together.”
—
Since the entirety of Harry’s life has become one fiasco after another, and since things with Louis have already gone as far south as possible, and since they never actually exchanged numbers, Harry decides that dropping by Louis’ apartment the following evening is the best course of action. It has absolutely nothing to do with it being a Tuesday and he definitely did not leave work early in the hopes that, when he knocks on Louis’ door, he won’t be home yet.
As softly as he can, Harry taps on Louis’ door with one knuckle. He waits a full thirty seconds, which is a perfectly reasonable amount of time, then starts back towards the elevator. At least he can tell Liam that he tried.
“Harry?”
Shit. Harry freezes mid-step and drops his chin to his chest with a quiet sigh. Best to get it over with quickly. He even wore his sneakers, so that he can be comfortable in case he needs to run away again. After one slow, steadying breath, he lifts his head and forces himself to stand tall before turning around.
“Hi, um…” Harry pinches and pulls at his lip, looking everywhere except directly at Louis until he’s right in front of him, standing on the other side of the open door before meeting his eyes.
Louis takes a step back, opening the door wider, and offers, “Want to come in?”
“No, um… No, it’s better if… I’ll stay out here. It’ll be better, um…”
At the sight of the welcoming smile falling from Louis’ face, Harry’s stomach twists, and for a second he thinks he can’t do it. A smaller, tight-lipped smile replaces it, then Louis nods and says, “Alright.”
“Okay. I’m just going to say it. Please, don’t say anything. Let me just… I sent you the glitter bomb.” Louis eyes go wide and he opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Harry talks over him. “It was meant for Dick—I mean, Rick. It’s a long story. But I sent it. And I’m really, really sorry. I had no idea… I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
Louis’ mouth is still open, moving silently, Harry assumes, as he tries to find the words to tell Harry exactly how horrible of a person he is. Instead of waiting for the inevitable, Harry flees. He bypasses the elevator this time, slams open the door to the stairwell, and runs as fast as he can down the stairs, and out of the building.
A few blocks away, Harry slows down, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He walks the rest of the way, trying not to think about the things Louis didn’t get a chance to say to him. The apartment is empty, thankfully, so Harry doesn’t have to talk to Liam at all. He sends him a quick text to let him know that he told Louis the truth, then he showers and goes to bed before the sun goes down.
—
It takes about a week for Liam to stop mentioning it, but since Harry staunchly refuses to talk about it at all, Liam gives up fairly easily. It’s better that way. Louis is clearly too good for Harry. Too good, too kind, too mature, too… perfect. According to Liam, he isn’t even mad at Harry, though he hasn’t attempted to get in touch.
Not that Harry blames him. He wouldn’t want to date himself either. And he doesn’t really want to date anyone else, at least not for a while. It’s become increasingly obvious that the problem isn’t the guys that Harry dates; the problem is Harry. Sure, some of the guys he’s dated have been boring, and some of them have been assholes, but the one thing they have in common is that Harry has gone out with them. Willingly. He’s the common denominator.
So he takes himself out of the equation.
It’s amazing, the free time Harry has once he stops focusing on finding someone and starts focusing on just… being.
When he starts bringing lunch or eating nearer to his office, and isn’t walking all the way to that one cafe on his lunch break just to get a glimpse of the hot guy that manages the place, he gets a lot more done at work, which means he doesn’t work late nearly as often as he used to, which means that he’s home a lot earlier most nights.
When he stops making thrice weekly shopping trips to saunter around the store that’s supposed to be the place to meet eligible bachelors, Harry finds that he has the time to actually cook meals with the groceries he purchases. Cooking dinner most nights means not ordering takeout nearly as often, which saves him a ton of money, some of which he uses to join a gym, which he now has the time and energy to actually attend.
After a few months, all of these little changes become routine parts of Harry’s life and he’s almost able to forget how shitty things were for a while there. Almost, but not quite, because he still refuses to put himself out there and won’t even attempt to go out on a date with anyone. And that’s not for lack of options.
There have been guys—there are always guys—who’ve flirted with him at the gym, or in the dairy aisle at the regular everyday grocery store, or at the library. And a few of these men have even asked him out for coffee or for drinks, but Harry’s turned them all down. Even though he’s pretty sure that he’d make better choices, he still can’t help but feel like he’s bound to screw it all up. Eventually, he’ll get there, but not today.
—
Standing in the bathroom, meeting his own eyes in the mirror, Harry leans in slowly, then leans back and frowns. “Where are we going, Li?”
Liam appears in the open bathroom doorway and says, “That new park. The one with like ten soccer fields? Zayn and Niall invited me. Well, us. They get together with some friends there every other weekend, kick a ball around until they can’t anymore, then go out for burgers. And beer.”
“The beer’s important.”
“That it is.” Liam nods sagely. “Get your shoes on and let’s go.”
—
Harry doesn't know how he knows he’s watching Louis from this distance, but it’s definitely him dribbling the ball around, and Harry’s reaction isn’t what he expected. He figured he’d eventually end up seeing Louis at some point, but he’s a lot less surprised than he thought he’d be. After allowing himself one wistful sigh, Harry sucks it up and starts across the parking lot towards the field. He can be a grown up. At least, on the outside. On the inside, he’s a tangled ball of nerves, already wondering if it’ll be possible, once the day is over, to have it completely erased from his memory.
Somehow Harry manages to keep walking towards Niall and Zayn, who he’s known for a couple of years and has become friends with to the point where he’d forgotten that he first met them through Liam. Since they all work together. And now Louis works there too. Before Harry realizes what’s happening, his feet carry him past them in a straight line to Louis.
“Hey, um…” Harry clears his throat. “Hey, Louis, um… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be here. I can leave if you, um… if you want me to.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. Liam said he told you that I’m not angry with you, so… it’s fine. Stay…” Louis smirks and says, “Let me kick your ass around the field.”
The anxiety that had filled him, is mostly replaced by regret, but Harry makes himself smile and nod and say, “Yeah, alright.”
“Good.” Louis smiles and it looks genuine. Maybe Harry missed his chance with Louis, but there’s no reason they can’t be friends.
“I am sorry,” Harry says, but Louis shakes his head.
“If you apologize again, I’ll ask you to leave.”
It’s obvious that Louis is joking, but Harry still instinctively starts to apologize for apologizing, “Sorry, I’ll— Shit! Sorry. Shit! Fuck—” and he can’t help but laugh, even though his face is hot and probably red and he can already feel sweat on his scalp and the back of his neck.
Fortunately, Louis finds Harry’s laugh infectious, because he joins in, and relief courses through Harry’s body. He’s glad Louis finds him amusing instead of annoying.
Harry doesn’t make a complete idiot of himself, maybe a little bit of one, but he gets the feeling that Louis is more charmed than anything when Harry accidentally trips them both up while trying to steal the ball.
Once they’ve tumbled to the ground together, things feel a little easier between them, and Harry can’t help but be disappointed again that he screwed things up so badly. There’s a good chance that Harry’s half in love with Louis already, and they’ve barely spoken. He can only imagine it getting worse the more he gets to know him.
“Okay, meet at the bar in an hour?” Louis unzips his bag, rifles around for a second, then pulls a sweatshirt out.
Harry thought they were going straight to lunch, so he’s a little relieved that he gets to shower and change, but also a little nervous because he still wants to impress Louis so much. “Yeah, um… See you there.”
Louis yanks his sweatshirt over his head, then grins at Harry, and says, “Alright.”
“You’ve got—” Harry slaps his hands over his mouth and closes his eyes. That way he can’t see that Louis has what can only be glitter on his left cheekbone, catching the light and sparkling in the sun. Because it has to be from Harry’s glitter bomb, because Harry’s life is just like that, because of course Louis is still finding glitter in the most random places. Hopefully the pieces of sperm confetti were easier to get rid of.
Niall’s voice comes from Harry’s right and Harry opens his eyes just in time to watch Niall gesture to his own cheek and say, “Louis, you’ve got glitter right here.”
For a brief moment, Harry wonders if it’s possible to spontaneously combust from the extreme heat of the embarrassment flooding his body. It gets worse when Louis smirks at Harry and says, “Not the worst place I’ve found it.”
Harry starts to apologize again, “I’m—”
“Don’t,” Louis interrupts. He steps closer to Harry and reaches up to rub his cheek with the cuff of his sweatshirt, then asks, “Did I get it?”
“No,” Harry whispers, then swallows audibly when Louis lifts his chin, angling his cheek toward Harry. So slowly that at first he’s not sure if he’s actually moving, Harry raises his hand and strokes his thumb over Louis’ cheekbone, doing absolutely nothing to remove the glitter. He huffs and looks away, letting his hands drop to his hips.
“Did you get it?”
“No,” Harry says and pouts a little.
“It’s alright. Glitter looks good on me.” Louis scrunches his nose when he smiles. He steps back, lifts a hand, and says, “See you in an hour.”
Harry doesn’t bother to pretend he’s not watching Louis walk away.
—
Friends. Harry makes himself dress in clothes that he’d never wear on a date: his oldest, faded, ripped jeans that are more grey than black these days; a Rolling Stones t-shirt so threadbare that parts of it are held together with safety pins and stubbornness; and his favorite brown boots that he really should’ve thrown out already, but can’t bare to part with.
Liam laughs when Harry pulls on a purple flannel shirt with a rip in the armpit. “With all of the holes in your clothes, you might as well be naked.”
“Shut up,” Harry says, shrugging out of the shirt and digging in his closet until he finds a newer, unripped blue and black flannel shirt to replace it. “Better?”
“Yeah, I mean, I can still see your nipples through your t-shirt, but I assume that’s the look you’re going for.” Liam pushes Harry towards the door. “Let’s go.”
The bar is close to their apartment, so before too long, Liam is walking through the entrance just as Louis steps out onto the sidewalk. They say hello and Liam continues on, but Harry stays outside, stepping closer to Louis.
“Hey,” Louis says, shaking a cigarette out of a crumpled pack. “Smoke?”
Harry shakes his head and watches as Louis lights his and inhales. “Let me get a few drinks in and I’ll change my mind.”
Louis chuckles and turns to blow the smoke away from Harry, giving Harry the chance to unabashedly watch him for a few seconds. He’s so gorgeous. Clearly, he dresses better when he’s out with friends than Harry does. His shirt is coincidentally the same bright blue as Harry’s flannel, but the similarities end there. His jeans are actually black instead of the faded grey-that-once-was-black that Harry’s are, his clothes aren’t wrinkled, there’s not a rip or tear in sight, and his shoes look clean and relatively new.
“The glitter came off,” Harry says and bites his lip.
“Yeah, the, um… the trick is to use baby powder. Brushes right off.”
“Oh?”
“Mmhmm… the worst is when you get glitter on your penis.” Louis’ eyes go wide and he looks away. “Didn’t mean to say that.”
“That’s… um…” Harry tries to stop himself from smiling, but he can’t control his face. The pink on Louis' cheeks is the best thing he's ever seen. “That’s okay. The more you know, I suppose.”
“Yeah…” Louis bites his lower lip and nods.
“Louis?” Harry’s hands feel tingly, so he shoves them in his pockets, hunching his shoulders a bit. He drops his chin and looks up through his eyelashes, hoping that, if he’s reading things wrong, he’ll at least have the balls to stick around through lunch and a few beers. “I’m fine with being friends if that’s what you want, but um… I’d like to take you on a date. Again. Maybe. If you’re up for it.”
There’s barely enough time for Harry to worry that Louis will turn him down before he’s smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and saying, “I’d love that, Harry. Promise not to run out on me this time?”
“No. I mean, yeah. I… I promise. Look, Louis, um… I know you said not to apologize, but, um… not about the glitter bomb, but everything else… my behavior, running off, just being… dumb. I’m sorry for that. And I know words don’t mean much, but actions… I’ll try to show you that I’m worth it, um… worthy of a man like you.” Harry flushes and he hopes Louis won’t notice.
Louis ducks his head, and the corners of his mouth turn up. “Can’t say no to an offer like that.”
Harry waits for him to finish his cigarette, then leads him into the bar and over to the table where their friends are waiting. Once they’re seated, Harry leans closer to Louis and asks, “If I buy you lunch, can we call this a date?”
“Yeah, why not?” Louis turns to face Harry and barks out a laugh. He closes his eyes and bites his lower lip hard enough that it looks like it hurts, but seconds later, Louis’ laughter forces its way out, and he points at Harry’s face. Harry frowns, confused when Louis shakes his head and smiles again. He lifts his hand and cups Harry’s chin, running his thumb over the stubble there. “You’ve got glitter on you.”