Archive of Our Own ^beta

Louis brings the half-empty cup into the kitchen to pile it on top of a dozen other half-empty, grimy and smelly cups. He closes his eyes against the sight, and turns around with a long sigh. He knows he should clean up but can’t. Not right now.  

He moves back into the living room and lies down on the sofa. Curls in on himself with an arm around his stomach and another deep sigh escaping him.

It’s one of his Days. He could feel it the moment his dream drifted to softly filtered morning light and he has since long accepted that he can’t do anything about it.

In the beginning… well, not in the beginning, but a few years After, he tried to fight his Days. Tried to go to work, tried to keep a stiff smile on his lips and tried, he really tried, to keep up with what the presenters were talking about on the news. Those days are long gone. Now, nearly a decade After, he lets the Days slip into his pores, through his chest, lets them manifest as fatigue in his muscles and bones.

It’s just one of his Days. It’s routine.

A while later he’s woken up by the sound of his phone buzzing underneath the throw pillow where his face is buried. Slowly his body starts moving, a twitch in his thigh followed by a groan in his chest.

If it’s someone worth talking to they’ll know to wait.

Eventually, he manages to get an arm tucked under the pillow and he brings the phone out and up to his ear.

“Hello.” He doesn’t sound like himself. Too fragile. Like he’d crumble at a simple touch. He might.

“Hey, Lou. How are you?”

Annoyance flares in his chest, exhaustion falling like a heavy blanket over his mind and mingles with something else. Something uncomfortable. Warmth.

“You having a Day?” Liam’s velvety voice drips with sympathy and Louis doesn’t have enough energy to wince.

“Yeah,” is what he manages to rasp out.

Against his will, his head is slowly coming back online, slowly catching up on the fact that the light outside is a dusky pink and that his belly is achingly empty.

“Alright, I’ll be over in a bit, go have a shower.” Liam hangs up and that flare of annoyance returns with a vengeance.

He has a shower anyways.

By the time Liam makes it through the front door with a bag smelling suspiciously like curry, Louis has made it back to the sofa, now in a pair of joggers and an old Adidas jumper.

“Hi love.” Liam greets him and disappears into the kitchen, another moment passes and then he’s sitting down next to Louis on the sofa. He runs a hand over Louis’ forehead and down his scruffy cheek before Louis allows himself to fall forward, to push his nose against the soft muscle of Liam’s chest and long arms surround him. There’s that warmth again.

“Work was a bloody mess today. It’s really good to see you,” Liam says and scratches the nape of Louis’ neck. Louis finds it hard to believe the genuine note of adoration in Liam’s voice. Can’t comprehend why cuddling up to a wreck after work would make him feel better.

Louis has weird friends.

They have curry and watch Antiques Roadshow , one of the few shows Louis has energy to keep up with on Days Like These. Liam stays tucked closely to his side and by the time he follows Louis into the bedroom and tucks him into bed, that nagging feeling of warmth has spread into a softness around Louis’ bones.

---

“Okay so, then he walks up to me and says he wants—and I’m not joking—a fucking piece of my pudding , like I’m an edible piece of Irish delicacy!” Niall’s cheeks are blooming a rather charming shade of pink and he looks equal parts delighted and horrified by his own story.

“Aren’t you, though?” Louis asks, a small snigger escaping him.

“That’s besides the point, innit?!” Niall throws his arms out and effectively slaps Liam in the face in the process.

Liam grabs Niall’s offensive arm and lowers it down onto the table again. “You work at a gay bakery and flirt with everyone who enters the store, what do you expect?”

Louis zones out a little as Niall and Liam keep discussing whether Niall was more offended or happy about the encounter. His limbs are loose after a couple of pints and there’s a fuzzy feeling of contentment in his belly that he only gets in the company of these two. His family.

It’s been a good couple of weeks for the first time in... a long time. He’s gotten a lot of work done and he’s eaten at least one cooked meal each day. There was only that one slip up where he cried into the dish towel a few days ago, but he does his best to forget about that. If no one else is there to see it, it might as well never have happened, right?

“So what about you Lou, any hot lads dropping by the office lately?” Niall demands his attention with an elbow at his side.

Over the past few months, Niall and Liam have, with increasing enthusiasm, started talking about themes that are dangerously close to moving on. By now comments like this are so common that Louis can’t even be bothered to get worked up.

“Since I work from home, the only ‘hot lads’ that drop by are the two of you, so no thanks.”

“Well, maybe you could be the hot lad at someone else’s place of work then?” Liam pushes softly and Louis lets out a deep sigh. Nope. Not even a little worked up. Just tired. So so tired. He wonders where that feeling of contentment went.

“You know very well I have no interest in that.”

A moment passes. Liam’s eyes are verging into puppy territory and Niall’s eyebrows have drawn together tightly. Will they let it go this time or will they push for more? They’ll likely try to get a raise out of him because they seem to prefer that to the indifference they’ve been faced with for years.

“Babe, it’s… it’s been six years. Please, just… Don’t you want to move on?” Niall isn’t necessarily one for pet names, so whenever he brings them out he means business.

Louis might’ve considered it slightly manipulative if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s Niall.

He lets the question sink in, the theoretical idea of letting go travels through his insides, spreads goosebumps along his arms and an uncomfortable shiver goes up his spine. Like the whisper of a ghost. Like you could ever forget me.  

“I wish I did,” he answers this time. One of many possible answers he’s used lately. Like picking one from a drop down menu. “I wish I wanted to, but I don’t.”

“But why ?” Liam reaches over the table, capturing Louis’ cold chappy hand in his soft warm one. “I know I keep asking, but I just don’t get it.”

Louis makes sure to squeeze Liam’s hand to show his appreciation, before he pulls it away and leans back in his seat, curling his arms around his torso and warming his hands in his armpits.

“Wouldn’t be fair, would it? Like… they’d never even compare , so why would I try for something that will only fail?”

The sad glint in Liam’s eyes and the wrinkle between Niall’s eyebrows both intensify and the air of disappointment is nearly tangible. He hates letting them down, but he always does. They should be used to it by now.

“We…” Niall clears his throat. Great. They have something to say about him and his life. “We thought maybe it’s a way to move on though? Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think? Maybe different, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be good.”

“What part of ‘I don’t want to’ is so hard to grasp? I know I could take steps to ‘move on’ or whatever you want to call it, but I don’t want to.” He grits out the last few words and that warm fuzzy feeling he felt earlier has evaporated into thin air. Another perfectly nice night ruined by their exhausting way of wanting what’s best for him.

“Sorry Lou, we know. We just want to help,” Liam says and throws a look at Niall who nods solemnly.

“There’s no fixing this, there’s no fixing me . The sooner you get that, the better.”

“We’re not saying you need fixing , there’s nothing wrong with you, just—”

“Of course there bloody is!” Frustration flashes in red before his eyes. “He’s missing from me, he’s gone and I’ll never be a whole person again. It’s not because I’m mourning or whatever, it’s because half of me is gone. He’s so fucking far away that the threads that kept us together are wearing thin, are about to fucking snap because he left me.”

His eyes well up without his permission, heart beating painfully in his chest, and he’s out the door before he can stop to think. There’s a sour taste in his mouth and he knows he’ll get sick all over the sidewalk if he’s not careful.

He knows they don’t understand how literally he means those words, how they’re physically felt in his tired bones and over sensitive skin. That to them it’s a metaphor for a relationship falling to pieces and nothing more.

How he wishes that were true.

The night is cold and the sky cloudy, not a single star in sight as if to prove his point even further. Impossibly far. He sometimes wonders if that knowledge is worse than an absolute end. There, still tethered to him, interwoven and inseparable in the most painful ways.

There, but impossible.

He wants to curse at the sky, wants to throw his fists at the horrifying endlessness of it all. One time he googled “distances in space” and ended up wanting to throw himself out of the window. He’s forgotten the exact numbers by now, but he knows. Knows what infinity feels like when it’s in the space between his own atoms.

He goes home.

---

The heat of the water makes his skin smart, but he lowers himself down below the surface anyway, allowing the sounds to dull in his ears and the light to break through the water. He stares up at the ceiling, eyes burning as he refuses to shut them, just lets himself linger there for a few precious moments. Then he tilts his head up until his face breaks the surface—the rest of him still submerged.

This is the only place that even comes close to the weightlessness of them . The only place that makes it possible for him to recall even just a caress of what utter elation used to feel like.

His heart beats steadily, his breath moving slowly in and out of his lungs. He closes his eyes.

Skin like trickling water beneath the palm of his hand. Eyes that render time and space completely irrelevant. Laughter that wavers from a deep rumble to a loud squawk and makes his belly flip five times over. Fingertips leaving trails of sparkling crystal as they travel over summer-tanned skin. Lips and wet heat, teeth sliding against a ribcage and muscles trembling as they hold on.

With his pulse rocketing and lungs burning, Louis grabs hold of the cold edge of the tub, gasping for air as water splutters out of his mouth.

When he manages to calm down enough to think, he realises he must’ve fallen asleep. Must’ve gotten lost in the memory. The water is cold around him and his limbs shiver.

It’s not the first time this has happened.

---

With his folder tucked tightly against his chest, Louis braves the rain and heads for the café for his writer’s club. The rain feels like needles against his face and the wind seems a touch ominous. It’ll still be worth it though, Louis tells himself as he pushes forward.

He’s made some changes to his manuscript and he’s confident the others will like it. Maybe this time Joseph will finally notice how good a writer he is, that he’s worth paying attention to, maybe even worth taking out for a cuppa. Maybe.

The door bell clinks as he enters the small establishment and he immediately spots the group in the back corner. He leaves his wet coat on the rack next to the door and shakes out droplets of water from his fringe, hoping he doesn’t look too much like a wet dog.

He orders a large coffee and as he’s waiting for it, there’s a tingling sensation at the backs of his thighs. His muscles tense up as goosebumps spread up over his bum to rest like a warm buzz at his lower back.

The barista’s saying something to him and he smiles distractedly as he ponders if he’s really that excited to see Joseph or if it’s just the change in temperature from the cold rain that makes his stomach feel like a thousand fireworks of giddy nerves.

“Hey everyone,” he says when he has made it over to the table, his hand landing briefly on Zayn’s shoulder in greeting. His friend gives him a smile and a murmur of hello’s come from the rest of them. A shudder waves over Louis’ shoulders as he picks up an unfamiliar tone and his eyes flicker over to the end of the table.

Then he stops breathing.

A stranger is looking back at him with tired but gentle eyes and there’s something in the murky colour of them that Louis can’t pull away from. His chest suddenly burns like the sun, like his heart is heating him up from within, and his chin wobbles as he tries to take another breath but doesn’t succeed.

“Mate!” Zayn’s raised voice startles him and he looks down at him in a haze. There’s something blurry around the edges of his vision and he squints to find focus.

“What?” he rasps out with his first breath and Zayn nods towards the end of the table.

“This is Harry. He’s from London.” Louis reluctantly looks back towards the newcomer. He doesn’t dare meeting those eyes again, inexplicably nervous of being sucked right back in.

The boy stands up and reaches a hand over to Louis who just stares at the long fingers and bitten down nails.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Harry’s voice is deep and gravely and Louis gasps at the way it trembles through his own chest.

“I’m Louis,” he manages eventually, gaze stuck somewhere above Harry’s shoulder.

Harry lowers his hand to his side before Louis has pulled it together enough to grasp it. Louis’ cheeks heat up furiously at his own inability to act like a normal person and he sits down in his chair with a small grunt. He has no idea what’s happening, but he needs to pull it together if he’s going to present his manuscript.

Sam starts the meeting by talking about the online publication they’re going to get published in and Louis forces his eyes to stay on the enthusiastic journalist student.

Half an hour later though, Louis still hasn’t been able to focus on anything but the absolutely ridiculous amounts of energy that seems to emanate from the quiet boy at the end of the table. Louis almost expects the air to start crackling with it.

When asked about his manuscript Louis just shakes his head and mutters something about “not finished.”

The second he hears the words “Okay, see you all next week then,” Louis is out of his seat and rushing towards the door.

He doesn’t know why but he feels shaken to the core—the world shifted out of focus.

As he hurries down the street, struggling to get his arms inside the coat and getting soaking wet in the process, someone calls for him and he stops in his tracks—arms raised awkwardly in the air.

“Wait, please wait!” Harry runs up to him, face laced with what Louis would call desperation if he didn’t know any better. He can’t come up with a single reason for why this stranger would look at him like that.

Louis lowers his arms and meets those eyes again with his heart beat rising. “What is it?”

Harry’s eyes are covered in a bright sheen, like he’s on the verge of crying, but he doesn’t look upset. He looks like he’s in awe of the sight before him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry if I upset you, I really didn’t mean to.”

For the first time that afternoon, Louis really looks at the boy in front of him and his heart burns so bright. Harry’s wearing jeans that are a tad too big and a sweater with worn down elbows. His hair is a wild mop of brown curls that stick to his forehead because of the rain. There are deep lines around his eyes and a smatter of uneven facial hair over his jaw, but something about the dimple in his cheek makes Louis think he’s younger than he looks at first glance.

“Who are you?” Louis asks, as if that’s a polite way to talk to a stranger.

Harry bites his bottom lip and flushes prettily. Louis’ belly flutters. “I’m Harry and I’m… from London.”

The words sound rehearsed and as a Northern lad himself, Louis can definitely tell that’s not a London accent.

“No, you’re not,” he says and is again thrown by his own bluntness.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up over his forehead. “You can tell?”

“I’d guess Manchester or about,” Louis says and with a small frown Harry nods.

“Oh, good to know.”

Then silence falls between them and Louis just keeps staring, starting to get annoyed at this inexplicable boy. Why does he make Louis feel like his body is hiding a whole carnival and why does it feel like Louis should already know what the boy wants even though he clearly doesn’t?

“I— I know you’re probably a little… freaked out right now… oh,” Harry winces and looks apologetically at Louis. “-and me saying that probably doesn’t make it any better, does it?”

“Yeah, no, not really,” Louis says and feels oddly sorry for the other boy because he’s clearly trying even though Louis has no idea for what.

“Hmm, um…” Harry takes a deep breath and then he looks into Louis’ eyes. Louis’ breath falters on the way up his throat. Harry’s eyes that were a murky green just moments ago now glimmer emerald and Louis can’t look away. “I promise I’ll explain everything just… just tell me if you feel this too or if… is this just… do you feel this?”

Louis’ jaw has gone slack, because he does feel it, doesn’t he? Whatever it is, his whole body is thrumming with it and his head is nodding yes before he’s made the conscious decision to do so.

Harry’s face breaks into the brightest smile Louis has ever seen and he could swear the colour of Harry’s face fades from dull grey to golden rose right before his eyes.

“Great,” Harry says with a sigh of relief, eyes shining with what could only be happy tears.

“What’s going on, what are you talking about?” Louis asks and takes a step forward, drawn into that electric current that sparks between them.

“I’ll tell you everything, show you everything, just. Trust me?”

He looks so hopeful, so full of elation that Louis can’t do anything but let out a breathy “Alright.”

---

“We’ve got a new project coming in next week and I’d like for you to take on a bigger responsibility for it.”

The words hang between them in the air and Louis twists uncomfortably in his seat. His boss is looking at him with determined eyes and Louis wishes he could pull a blanket over his head and escape.

“I dunno… I’ve got the history script to translate and I still haven’t started on the ehh…” he waves his hand in front of him vaguely. “You know the one about Indonesia.” There. Very convincing.

Ivy leans her head to the side and gives him a deadpan look. “We both know you finished that weeks ago, why are you lying to me?”

His cheeks heat and he shuffles further down his seat.

“Why are you asking me when you know I’ll say no?” He counters and knows he should count his lucky stars that his boss is as patient with him as she is.

“Maybe because it’s infuriating that my best translator stays holed up in his flat instead of working on our biggest projects.”

“You know there’s a reason for that, you got the papers.” Louis wonders if all his conversations are bound to be repetitious. An endless cycle of people wanting things from him, expecting his situation to change, expecting him to change.

“I don’t care about ‘the papers’ Louis, I care about you . I care about what I think you can achieve, so would you please just consider it?”

He doesn’t tell her that just this morning he sat huddled on the freezing balcony floor for three hours because every time he tried to get up it felt like his ribcage would fall out through his stomach. He doesn’t tell her that three weeks ago he couldn’t sleep for more than a few minutes at a time because he kept getting swallowed up by endless darkness the second he closed his eyes. Doesn’t tell her that sometimes the only time he can get work done is at four in the morning when it’s not quite night but the day is yet to get started.

“Fine,” is what he tells her.

---

They’ve been sat across from each other for over five minutes now, but they haven’t said more than hello. Harry is practically radiating where he sits sideways on the bench, one leg pulled up and bright eyes gleaming with excitement. Louis is dumbstruck enough to just sit there and wait for this strange boy to start talking. Give an explanation. Anything.

After their first encounter, they decided to meet up after Louis’ classes the next day. It wasn’t until Louis was on his way here that he realised that a secluded part of a park might not be the most sane place to meet up with a stranger. Especially not a stranger that makes his toes curl up every time he thinks about him.

Which he has done a lot today. He can’t recall what a single one of his classes covered, was all too focused on the slightly unnerving tingling travelling up and down his spine.

“So…?” Louis says eventually because he really thinks Harry should take the reins on this one.

“Yes!” Harry beams at him and Louis can’t help the snort that escapes him at the enthusiasm.

“Yes?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. C’mon, it’s on your table.

“Umm… yeah?” There’s a frown between Harry’s eyebrows and Louis would consider this whole exchange funny if it wasn’t for how intense the tingling along his spine has gotten since he sat down next to Harry on the bench.

He rolls his eyes. “You said you wanted me to trust you, so here I am. What do you want?”

“Right, right…” Harry twists his fingers together on his lap. “Okay. So, first of all… I need to know you... feel this… thing between us? You said so last night.”

“What is that even supposed to mean? What thing?” Goosebumps break out over his shoulder blades. That thing.

“I’ll tell you what it is, just. You do feel it right? It’s not just me?” Considering Harry was basically jumping out of his skin with excitement a few minutes ago, his earnest and worried eyes are a little concerning.

“If you mean my body going haywire with something since we met—then yes.” There’s no point in lying is there? He does want to know what in the flying skies is going on.

Harry nods. “Yeah it’s… quite something, isn’t it?” He’s smiling now. Whatever it is, it seems like Harry sees it as a positive thing at least. Hopefully that’s comforting.

“Now tell me what it is, did you drug me or summat?” Louis doesn’t really believe that, but it’s one of the few explanations he can come up with.

“Of course not, drugs are bad for you,” Harry scolds and Louis can’t help snorting again. “This isn’t… something you’ve felt before, right? It’s… different?”

“Yeah I guess.” Louis shrugs even though he’d like to nod his head vehemently. It is definitely different.

“It’s because it’s not... normal, I mean, for you. I mean… for humans.”

It hangs there in the silence that follows, Harry looking at him expectantly and Louis just staring back with static in his ears. He repeats the words to himself over and over again in his head to see if they make more sense after a while. Maybe he’s just tired and can’t keep up.

Or maybe he has to accept the fact that this boy, this very strange and beautiful boy, who he actually wouldn’t have minded getting to know a bit better, is pulling his fucking leg.

“I don’t know what the fuck you did to me, but this isn’t cool, mate,” Louis eventually manages to say, pointing a finger at Harry and getting up to leave.

Before he even manages to get out of the seat, Harry has grabbed onto him with a hand at his elbow and the contact burns through the fabric of Louis’ shirt.

“No. Please wait, I promise I’ll explain, please.” The look of desperation from last night has returned, big green eyes shining and Louis can’t detect even a smidge of deceit in them.

Louis sinks back onto the bench.

“I know it sounds crazy, but… I’ve been waiting for you.” Harry looks at him like that would clear it all up and Louis raises his eyebrows in question— what? “Umm… I’m. Oh gosh, I’m nervous,” Harry says then and smiles, shaking his fingers out a little before they settle down on his lap again. “I think… if you could just trust me one more time, I can show you.”

“ Show me?” Jesus fucking Christ, what has he gotten himself into? “That why you wanted to meet up here? So you could like, assault me or whatever you have in mind?”

The previously smiling boy looks horrified and beyond feeling like he might get a whiplash from the way Harry’s mood swings, Louis somehow knows that Harry isn’t here to hurt him.

“I’m not going to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want. I promise.”

“Alright, so what do you want?”

Harry swallows and lifts his hand up from his lap. He holds his right palm open and stretched out towards Louis. “Just one more time.”

The tingling along Louis’ spine travels up in a wave through his shoulder blades and before he knows it, he’s reaching over to put his hand in Harry’s.

---

He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know. The shift from the blackness of his dreams to consciousness is enough to make him pull the weighted duvet up over his head and curl into a ball at the centre of the bed. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to feel the threads tethered to his heart getting gnawed at; slowly and excruciatingly torn off one by one.

The thick air beneath the duvet helps him not to hyperventilate. Not to panic. To go back to sleep.

---

The second the warm skin of Harry’s palm touches his cold dry knuckles, Louis’ world blurs. The muscles at the bottom of his spine go taught, heat swarming his chest in strong waves. With his next breath of air, gasping as oxygen floods his system, tears fall down his cheeks.

He blinks at Harry through clumpy eyelashes and tries to get his brain to think and not just swim in the ocean of emotion that’s flooding every last corner of his body. It makes the hair on his calves stand up, the back of his neck flush with warmth, his jaw fall slack.

He can’t. Can’t focus, can’t get a hold of anything that could hold him to any logical reasonable thought, as he stares at the boy in front of him. When another bout of tears fall, he’s able to make out the contours of Harry’s face. Can see the sharp angle of his nose and the utter devotion pouring out of vividly green eyes.

For every shiver running up his spine, every twitch of his fingers, every tear that falls endlessly down his cheeks, Harry mirrors him. Even though the boy has lush curls, strong eyebrows and soft pink lips that contrast Louis’ features, Louis sees himself in every glimmer of his eyes and in the smile so wide his cheeks are wobbling.

They sit like that, two parts of one, until the first sound vibrates through Louis’ eardrums and he realises he’s been lost in temporary silence. The sound of their shared breaths are loud as they mingle in a cloud between them. Louis’ chest trembles with every other breath and every time the air gets stuck in his throat there’s an answering gulp of Harry’s adam’s apple.

The first conscious movement either of them makes is their hands simultaneously curling around each other, fingers grasping hold as if a simple touch is no longer enough. Harry’s hand is big and warm against his, the skin pulsing with the heartbeats in their chest.  

With a finger gently caressing over the pad of his thumb, Louis’ thoughts start blending together, forming words, coherence out of chaos and with a final tear falling he rasps out—

“Who are you?”

The question is too much and not enough.

Since the moment their skin grazed the other, he has known who Harry is in every way that really matters. In the gentle dreams that flood his head, his heart, and fills him with everything that the other boy is and ever has been. At the same time, words are starting to form lines of thought, trying to make sense of what is happening.

“Someone who’s been looking for you for a very long time,” Harry says, voice just as cracked as Louis’. “I was born a few galaxies away and this is the first planet I’ve ever spent time on. My kind, we’re… explorers of worlds, we don’t have our own planet, but ask to share others’. We’re symbiotes.”

The word echoes through him and feels familiar, like something he learned it in fifth grade but that is no longer at the front of his mind.

“Symbiotes?” He chokes out and his eyes draw to where they are still clutching hands.

“Yes. We need to find a host to survive on other planets for longer periods of time.”

Louis’ eyes flick up to Harry’s face, a sense of dread bubbling in his stomach. “Is this— are you in someone else right now?!”

He tries to picture it, that Harry isn’t really Harry, but a body stolen from someone else, that the boy in front of him doesn’t belong to the warm sensation at the back of his knees.

Harry smiles, a small thing that looks way too fond for this conversation. “No, this is just me.”

Louis frowns and shakes his head. It’s safe to say he’s never been more confused in his entire life. “But you just said you need a host to survive, what are you… you’re making no sense.”

He tries to ignore that fact that him having a conversation with an alien life form, a symbiote, on a park bench in the middle of November doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to begin with.

“We can’t survive without a host for very long, but obviously we need to have some time to find a compatible one.”

Louis can’t even bring himself to snort, just lets out a breathless, “Obviously.”

“I mean, I know we only just met yesterday, so I don’t know if you were paying attention, but I haven’t been feeling very well lately.” The grey hue of Harry’s skin comes to mind, the dark circles under his eyes and the murky shade of his now breathtaking eyes. “Usually it takes a couple months to find someone compatible, and we’re more than fine during that time, but eventually we start fading unless we find a host or return.”

He doesn’t even know where to begin unpacking what Harry just said. “But how… how long have you been here then?”

A deep rosy hue spreads over Harry’s cheeks and his palm starts sweating where it stays pressed against Louis’. “Almost two years.”

Louis’ frown deepens. “You can’t keep saying things and then contradict yourself in the next sentence, it’s not the way to have a proper conversation.”

Harry smiles self deprecatingly at that. “I’m sorry, I’m just kind of… contradictory, I guess. I’m… we’re not supposed to wait that long I just… I had to find you, didn’t I?” The glow in his eyes carry so much hope that Louis’ heart clenches.

On some level, in some cloudy part of his brain, Louis understands what Harry is saying or at least implying. He knows now that they belong together the same way the sun breaks through water in golden beams, but to grasp the idea that he is supposed to be some sort of host is way too unnerving for his muddled mind to deal with.

“I always wanted to… I’ve met people I’m compatible with before, like, just… they never felt right . Never felt… never felt like this.”

Louis’ belly flutters. “How did you even know this existed if you’ve never felt it before?”

“Humans aren’t the only romantic species in the universe,” Harry explains and there’s that shy smile again. “We grow up hearing stories of symbiotes finding their true match, their true selves in another and I just. Why would I ever wish for anything other than that?”

Louis can’t help the way his face melts into a soft smile.

“A bit of a dreamer, aren’t ya?” He notices his thumb rubbing encouragingly against Harry’s knuckles.

“I think so, yeah,” Harry says and with the next breath he lets out, Louis’ catches a quiet “ So worth it.”

The dread that curled in Louis’ stomach just moments ago, transforms into curiosity. He’s never met anyone as disarming as the boy before him and it makes him want to know more. He wants to understand. Understand everything, even though he’s fairly sure that the goosebumps at the back of his hand tingling together with the ones on Harry’s have already agreed to whatever it is Harry might be proposing.

“So, you’re… you’re compatible with me, is that what you’re saying?”

Harry bites his bottom lip, dimple deep in his cheek and eyes shining. “ Yes . You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

“How can you be so sure?” Louis has never in his twenty years on this earth even had a proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know how anyone can be so sure on something like “a true match” but maybe that was before last night. Before he could feel Harry’s eyes on him like a physical touch.

“When you walked into that café last night it felt like coming alive. Our energies feed off of each other, make each other stronger, more connected to the world around us. I know you feel it too.”

They look down at their intertwined hands, their pulses beating together at their fingertips.

There’s no use denying it.

Louis doesn’t want to.

“So now what?”

With another spark in those green eyes, Harry takes a deep breath.

“Now we live.”

---

Another uncomfortable chair in what seems like an endless row of uncomfortable chairs squeaks under him as he curls into himself on the seat, hands tucked up under his armpits and shoulders close to his ears.

He’s cold. Cold, empty and endlessly tired.

“I know you didn’t come here very willingly Louis, but now that you’re here, I think it would be good for you to try and talk to me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees a man with grey temples and square glasses with thin frames. If he cared, he might’ve guessed that the man isn’t actually that much older than him, but curled up like this Louis feels like a child.

It’s like the grown ups have had enough of his episode and are now expecting him to seamlessly fall in line. As if anything has changed. As if the hollowness in his chest hasn’t grown wider with every day over the past two years. As if time has supposedly healed him enough to-

The thought is incomprehensible.

He hates this, because he isn’t some moody teenager with anger issues. He doesn’t want to sit here and ignore a man that’s at most a decade older than him, someone who could potentially even be a friend if the world was shaped in a different way. It’s just that he can’t bring himself to open his mouth. To work up the energy to use the muscles of his stomach, throat and tongue to form words. Can’t think of which words he’d use anyways.

“Your friends told me you’ve been feeling like this for quite a while. Can you tell me when it started?” The man sounds kind. Calm and collected. The opposite of Louis’ shivering state of being.

“He left me.”

The words hang in the air between them and Louis is surprised they managed to escape him. He surely didn’t mean for them to, but as with everything else these days, that seems to be out of his control.

“Who left you?”

His jaw locks up tight.

“A family member? Boyfriend?”

Yes. No. Everything.

He can’t stay here any longer.

“I’m sorry. I’m really tired. Can I… I can’t… please, just let me go.” He’s pleading as if he’s a prisoner, a hostage taken by the healthcare system. By his concerned friends and their meddling ways.

“Of course,” the man answers and rises up out of his chair. He reaches a hand down to Louis, who grabs it and lets himself get pulled out of the seat. As he glances over his shoulder he sees that it wasn’t an uncomfortable torture device he was seated in, but a rather comfortable looking armchair.

Therapy. Right.

“It was great of you to come here today. It’s a first step.”

Towards what, Louis doesn’t know.

Zayn’s leaning against the car like a rebel without a cause as Louis makes his way out of the building. The moment he catches sight of Louis, he’s moving towards him—those beautiful eyes shining with worry. It’s all he is these days. A nerve wracking, hovering ghost of worry.

“How’d it go? Why are you back already?”

Louis grunts and walks passed him. He doesn’t breathe properly until he’s seated in the car, waiting for Zayn to come back. The silence is heavy the moment Zayn closes the door, suffocating and devastating, but still better than the air conditioned atmosphere inside the hospital.

They sit like that for a while. Time floats by in a thick fog these days, Louis can’t really keep up.

“I’m taking you home, but that’s it.” Zayn’s voice is sad but sharp, anger waiting just around the corner.

Louis knows. Knows there’s a limit to everything.

“He was my friend too you know, I lost him too,” Zayn says and Louis’ belly knots.

He knows. He also knows it’s not comparable. Not in the same realm as what he’s experiencing. He’s not being a prick on purpose. He’s just. Endlessly tired.

Eventually they make it to Louis’ street and there’s sourness seeping up his throat and flooding his mouth. He doesn’t want this, but he doesn’t know how to stop it.

“This was all I got,” Zayn says through clenched teeth, but Louis knows it’s not because he’s angry. Knows that those soft trustworthy eyes are brimming with tears without having to look. “I can’t do this anymore. If you don’t get help, I can’t do this.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking do that!” Zayn bursts out, slamming his head back against the headrest. “I refuse to deal with your self pity anymore! It’s been two years for fuck sake, get it together, man. You’re not the only one who’s ever gone through a rough break up.”

The “I know” gets lost on Louis’ tongue and he purses his lips. He really doesn’t want to do this but he doesn’t know how to stop.

Zayn closes his eyes, wiping furiously at them with trembling fingers. “Just get out. I can’t look at you anymore, get out.”

For a moment he’s stuck in the seat as if there’s still some fight left in him, but then his muscles twitch and he reaches for the door handle.

“I love you,” he mumbles, because no matter what, he wants Zayn to know that it’s true. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did.

He doesn’t stay to catch Zayn’s reaction, just closes the car door behind him and walks up the stairs.

He doesn’t leave his bed for eight days.

---

“So… what’s supposed to happen now exactly?” He’s out of breath for no reason, staring into Harry’s eyes, taking air from Harry’s lungs into his and sharing his own exhalations in return.

They’re seated on the bed in Louis’ small dorm room, legs crossed and knees brushing. It was just a few minutes ago that Harry knocked on his door, already breathing hard, a worried frown on his face and fingers twitching. For the first time since they parted by that park bench, Louis’ heart had started beating steady and strong rather than erratically with panic.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “You felt… I mean, I felt so unsettled. Without you.”

Louis stepped to the side with a small sigh of relief. “I know. You don’t have to explain.”

He felt it too. The nervous energy in his muscles, his and Harry’s endless longing intertwined and even though he knows it should scare him, the thought of resisting this, whatever it is, feels more daunting than anything.

“I…” Harry says, rubbing sweaty palms against his too big jeans and smiling bashfully. “I haven’t actually done this before, you know.”

“You never had another host.” He remembers Harry mentioning something of the sort. Hosting. Like throwing a pleasant tea party for body inhabitants.

Harry shakes his head. “I waited for you, remember?” He brushes a thumb against the threadbare fabric over Louis’ knee, and their breaths stutter.

“Alright, but. In theory then? You must know something?”

“I think…” Harry’s voice is thick with emotion, the bewildering northern accent bleeding through. “It just sorta happens.”

Louis can’t help the roll of his eyes, the smile that twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, then we’re all set.”

Harry shakes his head again, this time as if to clear his thoughts, eyes closed and nostrils flaring slightly. “You’re too distracting, I can’t think properly.”

He doesn’t know this boy in the real, normal sense of the word, has only just met him, but Louis’ body feels as if they’ve been around each other since their first days. Reaching out to grab hold of Harry’s hand is as easy as anything. The urge to lean forward and nuzzle against Harry’s temple pulls at him.

“I’m not the alien here, don’t talk to me about distracting,” he whispers and then he does lean forward, unable to resist, and Harry smells like raspberry soap and something faintly metallic.

“Well, to be fair, to me you are.”

Louis catches that dimple deepen out of the corner of his eye, and his stomach grows heavy with warmth.

“Right.” He hadn’t thought of that.

Harry leans into the touch of Louis’ face so close to his, his cheek warm against Louis’ as they close their eyes.

“So it’s. If that wasn’t clear, being a symbiote means we share a body. This body I’m in right now is only temporary.”

Heat travels over Louis’ skin at Harry’s words at the same time as dread shoots up in cold sparks over his back. Sharing a body with Harry sounds overwhelmingly comforting, even though the thought should horrify him, it’s just that— “You mean I’ll never see you again? You’ll… just disappear?”

He tries to focus on the darkness behind his eyelids, on the soft skin against his.

“I’ll never disappear, I’ll be right here,” Harry rumbles slowly into his ear, fingers brushing against Louis’ ribcage, right over his heart.

Louis swallows against a lump in his throat. “I don’t understand.”

“It means that even though you won’t always be able to see me, you’ll never lose my touch, we’ll share everything.”

Louis opens his eyes and leans back, finding Harry’s eyes wide and serious. “But this version of you will disappear?” He brushes the pad of his thumb against Harry’s jaw and somehow he already misses him.

Harry smiles again, biting his bottom lip with a rosy hue over his cheeks. “I really don’t think you’ll miss it all that much.”

“I beg to differ,” Louis mumbles, face heating with the admission.

The fact that he happens to find Harry mind numbingly attractive seems so insignificant in comparison to everything else happening between them. But still.

“Well, we will be able to part if that’s something that we want, you might get tired of me once in a while, so. So it’s like. A precautionary function.”

“Why would I get tired of you?”

“I tend to ramble.” Harry chuckles, cheeks yet again a rosy hue.

“Okay, then. If it’s. I mean. It’s not like there’s any going back from this, is there?” Louis grabs hold of Harry’s damp hands, only to realise his own are trembling just as much. “I feel like it’s already done. Like. Like you had me, like I had you , from the moment we touched.”

Harry nods, the soft rasp of their heads moving against each other loud in Louis’ ears. “But do you… do you feel like you had no choice? Like it’s done without your consent?” He sounds worried and Louis tries to push the flutter in his chest out through the pads of his fingers so Harry can feel it too.

“Does anyone ever have a say in these things? Do we ever decide who our person is? Isn’t the whole point that it just… happens?”

Harry squeezes his fingers and Louis thinks Harry feels the flutters too.

“I’m not asking you out. I’m asking to be part of you.”

Louis tears up with the thickness of Harry’s voice, the way this is clearly something Harry has wanted for a long time, has dreamed about since the beginning of his time, and Louis feels it too. Longing through galaxies and falling stars. The bittersweet happiness at the thought of being a part, of belonging fully to something bigger than what you originally were.

It’s all there in the beautiful shine of Harry’s eyes, in the way their scents blend together on dewy skin and Louis feels a small whine at the back of his throat.

“I know. I’m saying there was never a question of me not wanting this.”

Then the air is drawn from his lungs and his eyes go wide at the sensation. Louis opens his mouth to let out a sound, but it is Harry’s lips that part instead. A heart throws itself violently against a ribcage, the beat so heavy the bones ache. It is now. It is what always has been, what always will be.

The next moment oxygen floods their system and everything goes black.

---

The first few weeks. Or the weeks in the first few months after Harry leaves, Louis wakes up from a shadow of his normal state of being and straight into his new nightmare. In their, his, dreams it’s always them. Moving, feeling, thinking, touching. Waking up is like being shred to pieces over and over again. Every morning, being clawed right open only to be filled with a murky hollow nothing as the day goes by.

Those first few weeks Louis doesn’t eat. On some level he’s aware of people hovering above him, calm voices and lingering hands on his skin, but he’s too empty to properly take notice of who and when it happens. One day he wakes up to the shrill beep of a machine and blinding fluorescent light. It’s all the same to him.

The first person he’s able to point out in the endless stream of strangers and non-strangers by his side is Niall and it’s a laugh of all things that does it. For the first time in however long, Louis remembers the feeling. Remembers the warmth in their chest, the smile spreading over their cheeks and something deep inside their, his, chest swells just one tiny bit.

“Lou?”

Liam is the second person he’s able to pick out as he meets big brown eyes.

Niall’s laughter stops abruptly and then they’re both by his side, hands touching skin as if to make sure he’s really there.

“Oh thank god, we didn’t know— they didn’t know what was wrong, I mean. You weren’t eating so that’s probably—”

“Oi, give him a rest won’t ya?” Zayn interrupts Liam’s rambling and Louis just looks up at them. His best friends.

“Sorry, mate,” Liam says, a soft smile on his face. “We’ve just been so worried.”

Louis wants to ask what happened. Where Harry is. He wishes this was the sort of situation where Harry would come back through the door after just having picked up coffee at the caféteria. But Louis already knows this isn’t that sort of situation. The empty spaces between his atoms grow wider each second.

“Water?” he asks and that’s the only thing he says in the following three days.

Everyone seems to think it’s a major progress anyways.

---

His first panicked thought is that it was all a dream, that his bored mind came up with something so twisted and wonderful that he would miss it endlessly once he woke up. But that thought only manages to linger for the briefest of moments, because then he feels it.

Skin against the worn out sheets, warmth from the sun on a cheek and the universe surrounding this small place.

It’s like the skin is floating a millimeter above the sheets while simultaneously sensing every fiber of the fabric, like the sun is heating from within while also not touching him. Never before has Louis been made aware of the universe surrounding him, but that is because he no longer is him.

It’s them.

Hi.

It feels strange when the voice doesn’t vibrate through their chest, but then he realises that is because it’s in his mind. It’s Harry.

I know it feels strange, but please don’t panic. I’m right here.

Louis would huff out loud if he felt connected enough to their body to do so, but silently rants about it in his head instead.

Harry somehow chuckles without making a sound. I know “that’s the whole bloody point.” I’m sorry. Maybe try to move around a bit? I’ve heard it can be grounding.

So they do. Louis thinks it, and their toes wiggle a bit, and it feels just like it used to only with half the effort. Like there’s two people working towards the same goal, rather than just one, and currently that goal is toe wiggling.

Once Louis feels like they’ve aced that, he wills them to tilt their head to the side and sees the sun filtering in through the blinds—the specks of dust dancing in the light and their eyes well up at the sight. He sees the tiny rainbows of light whenever the sun hits a speck of dust just right and he’s never seen anything so beautiful before in his life.

I thought I was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You’re not supposed to know that. How do you even know that? Louis tries out the concept of thinking conversation and seems to get it right because Harry answers.

I might not know every thought you’ve ever had, but it’s quite a stubborn memory. He sounds amused and their cheeks flush.

Then there’s images flooding his mind and Louis does his best to keep up. There’s him walking up to the café counter, hair wet from the rain and jeans delightfully tight over his bum. Then he’s making his way over, cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, he says hi and then he meets his own eyes. The most perfect shade of blue and time stops existing just for a while.

Then the images speed up, eyelashes turned dark with unshed tears of elation, freckles on his cheeks, the tiniest fuzz along the shell of his ear, hands cracked and dry but still just right against another’s.

When it stops their chest expands widely with their next breath, overwhelmed with what he just saw.

This is all I’ve been able to think about.

Oh .

I can’t believe this is real. That it’s finally happened.

Louis feels their arm being raised in front of them, their hand being turned around for them to look at in awe. What was once his is now theirs. The freckles on their skin, the bitten down nails, the small scar on their little finger.

You and me both. Louis looks at their hand moving without him making it do so. Harry moves their body whichever way he likes and Louis finds himself looking towards the mirror as Harry turns their head that way.

With curiosity blooming they move simultaneously through the room, that floaty but ever so present feeling from before returns as they move towards a common goal.

They hold their breath as they raise their head slowly, eyes following the line of their legs, up their thighs and hips, the rise and fall of their belly. A mix of confused recognition and wonder dance between their minds. There’s the curve of their biceps and the length of their neck before the first sign of something being different occurs.

To Louis they look just like he did that morning and to Harry they look like the boy he’s been picturing endlessly in his mind, but when their eyes meet their counterpart in the mirror their heart stutters.

What was once blue like the sky is now emerald and sapphire sparkling in the sunlight, a breathtaking shade of turquoise staring back at them and they both think they’re the most beautiful eyes they’ve ever looked into.

That’s not you, Harry whispers in awe.

No . Louis agrees. It’s us.

---

The second morning after the… symbiosis , Louis wakes up with a rabbiting heart, eyes bugging out of his head as he sits up in bed.

I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t know that would wake you up!

It takes a while for Louis’ sleep riddled brain to catch up with what the fuck is happening, who is talking inside his head and why that voice makes the rabbiting heart woop strangely.

“What… what happened?” he asks, voice gravely with sleep, wavering a little because it’s strange to talk to someone who isn’t there.

I’m right here, what are you talking about?

“What? I’ve barely woken up, what happened?” His head whirrs and the thoughts keep going in circles. Harry. Symbiote. Alien. Harry.

Louis feels their cheeks heat up and reaches a hand up to feel it, to see if it’s real or all in his head. The skin is warm, and there’s a very strange instinct to nuzzle into his… their , own hand.

I don’t really sleep, so like. I was just… I didn’t know the eyes had to be closed for that. So like-

“Of course my eyes have to be closed for sleeping, did you think humans do that just for fun?”

There’s a tingling sensation moving over their stomach, like water trickling over the skin, and then the gradually slowing heart jumps .

Right in front of him, rising up from the torso of their shared body, Harry’s head appears, followed by his shoulders, chest and arms.

“What the fuck!” Louis yells and tries to scramble backwards only to cuddle further into the pillows.

“Oh, um, does this scare you? I’m… I just thought it would be easier if you could see me.”

Sweat has broken out at the back of their, his for the moment being as Harry hovers in front of him, neck and his hands fist the sheets. “Oh my god.”

Louis closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“Gosh, I’m sorry.” Harry’s head falls, curls covering his eyes, hovering against the rosy cut of his cheekbones. “This really wasn’t how I imagined this morning to go.”

Louis opens his eyes when Harry’s embarrassment floods through his system, as evident as if Louis had been the cause of it himself. His face melts into something soft, belly heavy with warmth as he stares at the breathtaking creature in front of him.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He reaches up to touch Harry’s cheek, for a moment hesitating for the fear that his hand will pass right through, but then he touches him and he feels more real than anything. “Just… be careful when I’m sleeping, or like. In the morning, it takes some time for me to wake up.”

Harry nuzzles into his hand. “I’ll try to remember that. I just. Please don’t change your mind about us.”

They might have only spent a day together so far, but just the thought of separating from Harry feels so wrong it threatens to make him nauseous.

“I won’t. I won’t ever not want this. I promise.”

Harry looks up at him then, green eyes reflecting so much unadulterated love it nearly knocks the breath out of him. “I promise too. I promise.”

In that moment there’s not a single thing that would make Louis doubt him, the truth of those words resonating through their shared cells and in the soft press of lips against lips.

---

Louis wakes up with a headache the morning after his thirty-third birthday.

The night was spent in the company of Liam, Niall and Niall’s new boyfriend whose name Louis still hasn’t learned. Stuff like that just doesn’t stick these days. Beer, food and arcade games might sound juvenile for such an esteemed age, but Louis wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s even fine with the morning after headache.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes on the way to the kitchen, grumbling slightly at his blurred vision. Making tea and finding leftover pizza in the fridge, he looks out the window and concludes he must’ve had quite a lot to drink last night. He’s not usually this hazy eyed in the morning.

It’s not until he’s had breakfast and a nap on the sofa that something starts poking at his mind. He can’t seem to shake the cloudiness swimming before his eyes and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to focus on the telly. He grumbles some more, annoyed that the reruns of Ex on the Beach don’t make much sense to him with his uncooperative eyes. Eventually he gives up and goes for another nap instead.

Around noon the next day, the poking thought has turned into an ugly knot in his belly. While his sight sometimes clears enough for him to be able to read, there’s a constant gray fog at the corner of his eye and he wonders if this is finally it. If his body has finally given up on him and is starting to shut down.

For some reason the thought doesn’t sit right with him and that in and of itself is quite worrisome for someone who hasn’t worried about his own wellbeing for a long time.

---

Louis always used to balance between being extremely social and needing time of solitude. As a kid he reveled in playing with his sisters and being the center of attention amongst his friends, but he also needed time to close the door, disappear into his own mind and just breathe.

That fact means that the first few weeks of being with Harry are kind of exhausting.

The boy, symbiote, does ramble a lot and Louis is still not properly convinced he isn’t just losing his mind. That it isn’t just his wild imagination that’s taken complete control of his inner workings.

On top of that, he has to get used to sharing his body with someone who is prone to late night snacking and early morning talks about his fascination of all things human. Since apparently symbiotes barely sleep Harry has to try to make himself quiet when their eyelids fall heavy. As someone who is just about as restless as Louis usually is—it’s a bit of a struggle.

I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you, just wanted to check if there was any pasta left!

You thought that dragging my sleeping arse up at three thirty in the morning to check the fridge wouldn’t wake me?

I haven’t gotten the hang of this yet, sleep is a strange concept. The other day you went up walking without me having to do anything!

I was taking a leak for god’s sake, I was awake—

I’d debate the awake part—

You’d debate everything!

On the other hand, the part of Louis who used to seek attention from whoever was close enough, that part of him has never been more sated. As a gay kid in a small town and in a family of seven, there had been a lot of times when he’d felt like the loneliest person on earth. Like everyone around him always had somewhere else to go, someone else to see, someone else’s manuscript to read.

So many times had he felt like he needed to be the loudest, the fittest and the wittiest for anyone to pay attention even though he knew he was adored by his friends and family alike. That part of him now gets to experience what it’s like when everything else falls away and nothing but the two of them matters.

When Harry can’t contain himself and his honking laugh forces itself from their lips, when Harry asks question upon question about the fantasy worlds kept in Louis’ head and when Harry touches their shared skin in wonder.

I didn’t know that the universe could be this beautiful.

You’ve seen outer space, how could anything possibly compare to that?

How could anything ever compare to feeling your laugh vibrate through our chest? The lines around your eyes when you make fun of me leaves us breathless.

It isn’t always easy to know where one starts and the other ends. Which parts of them remain separate and which are seamlessly entwined. As days grow into weeks and weeks into months, Louis stops caring about if it is him or Harry who moves their tired limbs in the morning, if it is Harry’s smile reflected upon their face or if they see the world mainly through blue or green.

Harry is constant within him and he is constant within Harry. Thoughts he previously would’ve considered private has become theirs, feelings he thought he’d never be privy to are shared in the flutter of their belly and the rabbiting beat of their heart.

Before he met Harry, Louis’ inner circle consisted of a total of three people. Liam and Niall he’d known since high school and Zayn had fit into their threesome quite quickly after Louis met him at his intro course for English Lit at uni. Having a small group of close knit friends is perfect for Louis since they have become his family away from home.

The only issue is—they tend to notice if you start spending every second of your life with someone outside of said group.

About a month after Harry and Louis met, Zayn starts picking up on something being different . They can almost hear the cogwheels turning as he tries to figure out exactly how much time his best friend spends with the new student from London.

Louis might’ve accidentally mentioned that him and Harry have had fried rice cravings every day for a week and thus have become chummy with the restaurant owners two streets over.

“You and Harry spend a lot of time together now, eh?” Zayn asks as they walk together from campus.

Harry sniggers in their head and Louis shrugs. “Um, eh, yeah I guess.”

“So, you dating or what?”

They flush spectacularly and Louis doesn’t want to know which shade of red that results in.

Are we? Harry’s voice is so soft as he raises the question and warmth spreads in their belly.

We better be after what you did between my legs this morning. They flush even harder at that.

“Yeah, he’s… he’s amazing,” Louis answers and can’t help the smile.

“So Joseph is out of the picture, then?” Zayn’s voice sounds perfectly neutral, but his eyebrow is raised and his eyes twinkle as Louis’ frowns.

“Joseph?”

Joseph? Who’s Joseph?

“Yeah, you’ve been like, obsessed with showing him your manuscript for months.”

I read your manuscript, it’s amazing, what do you care what this Joseph person thinks?

“I don’t,” Louis says, both amused and annoyingly endeared by the dash of jealousy from Harry.

Zayn lights a cigarette and looks at him confusedly through the smoke. “Don’t what?”

Then who is he? Why haven’t I heard of him?

Please be quiet for one second, darling.

Louis gets flustered for a moment and rubs at the back of their neck, not yet used to the constant double conversations. “Eh, nothing. Just. Um, he’s out of the picture yeah.”

“Well, Harry’s a good lad, though I’m pretty sure he’s lying about being from London, has he said anything about that?”

Louis laughs. “Poor country boy thought we’d be more impressed if he said he was from the city.”

I didn’t! How am I supposed to know what accent this is?! Harry is definitely pouting but Louis refuses to let it show.  

About a week later they become privy to the fact that where Zayn met Louis and Harry’s new relationship with humor and curiosity, Liam and Niall tread a bit more carefully.

“You’ve never even dated anyone before and now you’re like, basically living with this bloke after just a few weeks? Don’t you think you should be a bit more careful?” Niall tries to sound casual as he says it, but Louis easily picks out the note of suspicion. Liam only tilts his head and looks at him with worry.

“We don’t ‘basically live together,’ we just like to hang out.”

That’s one way to put it.

What am I supposed to say? I can’t very well tell them the truth now, can I?

I’m sorry you have to lie to your friends. It’s just, the laws state—

I got you, that’s all that matters.

Harry preens.

“Listen I know it’s sudden and… he’s— please just give him a shot. He’s... he’ll be around a lot, and I’m. I think I’m falling in love with him.”

It’s the understatement of the century but their system floods with heat nonetheless. Even if Harry must hear endless streams of Louis’ thoughts about him, must feel the way their skin pebble at Harry’s touch, and must sense the way Louis is overwhelmed with elation at most times, he still seems endlessly surprised when Louis mentions it out loud.

“That’s great, mate,” Liam’s worry melts into a smile and he gives him a hug. “We’re just worried about you, you know.”

“All you’ve ever done is worry about me.” Louis grins and nudges Liam’s shoulder.

“That’s ‘cause you’ve always been a reckless git,” Niall says and clambers across Liam’s legs on the sofa to give Louis a hug too.

“I’m not objecting to that.”

He knows they’ve got his back and knows they always will. The only difference now is—he’s got Harry and he knows Harry will do anything to make sure they’ve got nothing to worry about.

---

“You just need to get out of the house,” Liam says over the phone after Louis rather unwillingly told him about his blurry eyesight. Louis groans. Of course that’s what Liam would say, because that’s his answer to all of Louis’ problems.

The worst thing is—Liam appears to be right. Louis has a meeting with his boss downtown on Wednesday and when he leaves the dusky light of his flat, his eyes clear up instantly.

“What the fuck,” he mumbles, but breathes a sigh of relief.

Maybe his flat is just too dark and dirty. Maybe he should ask Niall and whatshisname to help him out with some proper house cleaning. Some day.

---

A week later, the blurry fog is still insistently bothering him from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning, with the only change being that it’s taken on a dusky pink colour rather than just gray. The one thing that helps is leaving the house and by now he’s convinced himself he’s properly losing it. That his mind is subconsciously forcing him to leave his safe nest and deal with the rest of the world.

Of course, Louis only burrows further into the sofa cushions in protest and pretends like the pink hue doesn’t bother him at all. He sneakily does an internet search for “vision going pink” when he’s out having a coffee with Liam and tries not to panic.

---

His name is Shawn. Niall’s new boyfriend. Louis finally learns this after said boyfriend takes the time to teach him a rather annoying children’s rhyme including his name and by the end of the session Louis can’t remember the rhyme, but indeed the name.

“I’m really sorry, mate. My memory is a bit wonky is all,” Louis says, slightly humiliated that this fresh faced boy that Niall has managed to snag, has to go to such lengths to teach Louis something as simple as his name.

“It’s alright,” Shawn says with a bright smile and Louis can’t help returning it. “I can never tell the difference between the names Amanda and Sandra, it’s completely impossible!”

Louis isn’t sure it’s really the same thing, but he appreciates the sentiment.

He has managed to drag his arse over to Shawn’s flat for supper and Niall is rosy cheeked in the way he only is when he’s thoroughly satisfied with something. Granted, Louis barely goes out at all, so it is rather impressive he’s made it all the way across town for spaghetti.

After dinner they’re cuddled up on the sofa, bellies full, and Niall asks him about the “mystery fog” as he’s taken to calling it.

“It’s alright, it only bothers me sometimes.” Louis shrugs like it doesn’t matter and very carefully doesn’t mention the connection between his flat and the eye problem.

“Maybe it’s stress or summat,” Niall says and gently pats Louis on the head before dragging his fingers down his neck in a comforting caress. Louis doesn’t know if the way his friends always pet him is normal for men their age, but he doesn’t really care either way. To say he’s slightly starved for touch would be an understatement so he’ll take what he can get.

He shrugs again. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t know what he’d be stressed about if it wasn’t for the pink fog but still. Maybe.

Before leaving Louis heads to the bathroom for a leak, and when he comes back he stops by the doorway as he catches Niall and Shawn huddled close together.

“He seems like a nice guy, but I don’t want to push him,” Shawn says, dragging his fingers through Niall’s hair.

“He can use a good push once in a while,” Niall grunts and leans into the touch.

“How… how long has he been like this?”

Louis feels his throat close up, panic rising in his chest because he’s not sure he wants to hear Niall’s answer. His feet seem nailed to the floor though.

“I dunno.” Niall shrugs. “It’s just Louis, you know. You don’t have to worry.”

Then Louis’ throat clogs up for another reason, thankful for his friend’s protectiveness. For not outing Louis’ past decade of self destruction and pitifulness. The fact that he finds comfort in Shawn believing he’s always been like this might be a little disturbing, but he never wants to face the look on Shawn’s face when he finds out it’s all over a boy.

A boy Louis met at uni and dated for four years but is still utterly heartbroken over well into his thirties. To anyone but Louis it doesn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense to Zayn. It doesn’t make sense to the therapists Louis has seen since that first one, who all seem to think the break up was a catalyst of something inevitable rather than the cause.

He’s pretty sure it doesn’t make sense to Niall and Liam either, but for some reason his friends have decided to stick by his side anyways. Maybe they do tell themselves it’s “just the way Louis is” and try not to expect more than that. They haven’t really expected anything from him, other than that he answers his phone, for a few years now.

He really has no idea why they stick around.

---

After hugging Niall and Shawn goodbye, Louis stops by the grocery store on the way home. Over the years he’s learned what food he can eat that lasts long, doesn’t take a lot of energy or time to make, but also won’t kill him in the long run. It’s a very useful if quite depressing skill.

The closer he gets to the flat, the tighter the knot in his chest grows and every breath feels a little harder to grasp as he makes it up the steps.

Louis drags the groceries into the kitchen and dumps them on the counter. It’s not until he turns on the overhead lamp that he notices the lack of fog. His heart skips a beat and he carefully starts putting the food away, somehow scared he’ll trigger the blur with hasty movements. He grabs a can of soda for himself to enjoy while watching some telly before bed and with every step that his vision stays clear, he feels a small trickle of hope.

Making his way around the living room, turning on the small lamps, he eventually goes to throw himself onto the sofa.

And that’s when he sees it.

The small trickle of hope is quickly squashed into cold dread and the hand holding the soda can makes dents into the aluminum.

Right above the corner of the sofa, there’s a pink blob hovering in the air. He doesn’t know any other way to describe it. It’s undefined. Just a blob.

Even though it looks entirely different from before, Louis knows instinctively that the blob is another form of the fog that’s been clouding his vision for weeks, and before he knows it a loud sob escapes him.

His legs give out and his knees hit the floor with a harsh thud, followed by the clunk of the soda can. Curling in on himself, he takes another ragged breath and a sob escapes his lips.

For a while there, he really thought he was doing better.

He let Niall and Liam and his mum, his bloody therapist, and his boss, convince him that even though it was slow going, at least he wasn’t deteriorating any more. Not exactly moving forward, but at least not falling further and further into the dark. Apparently, they were all very very wrong.

It was a long time ago that he let go of the idea of moving on, but living in constant and untiring grief is exhausting, so he has tried to enjoy at least some parts of his life. Hanging out with his friends. Getting a call from his sisters he hasn’t spoken to in months. The taste of pepperoni. As he peeks over his arm to look in the direction of the sofa, he realises it was all for nought.

It’s still there. Hovering ominously in the air and solidifying something that’s been at the corner of Louis’ brain for a very long time.

He has finally properly lost his mind.

---

Zayn brings a pack of beer over to the table and immediately reaches one over to Harry by his side.

“Thank you,” Harry says with a smile and looks at Zayn like he’s brought him treasure and gold.

Louis’ belly flutters with a thousand butterflies at the sight. Of Harry unrestrained sincerity, of the way Zayn shakes his head at the boy and ruffles his curls with a laugh.

“Anytime, mate.”

They are spending the night at Zayn’s for card games with the lads. Why the others even bother anymore is beyond them because they always win.

Even like this, perched on opposite sides of the coffee table, their minds flow seamlessly together. The second Harry gets a good card, Louis feels the spark of excitement in his chest, and Harry always prods at him until he admits which card pissed him off. They truly are the dream team, even though these days they don’t feel so much like a team as they just feel whole.

Liam is curled up against Louis’ side on the sofa and is unintentionally showing Louis his whole hand of cards. Louis is too endeared to tell him or use it to cheat, but the gleam in Harry’s eyes tell him he’s not on the same page.

Stop it!

You’re the one looking at his cards!

I can’t bloody help it, can I?

Well as long as he doesn’t go for hearts, we’re fine.

You’re a menace.

You love me.

Only the gods know why.

It doesn’t really matter that he says it, because he can feel the way Harry feels his love in every fiber of their being.

“If you two would stop making creepy googly eyes at each other for one second, maybe we can actually play?” Niall slaps the side of Harry’s head with his hand of cards but Harry just ducks and laughs.

“Alright alright, bloody hell!” Harry plays and Louis knows he holding onto the hearts until next round.

---

The blob, fortunately, stays within the walls of his home, so at least he doesn’t have to deal it whenever he goes out.

Whenever he’s at home though, it never leaves his sight. It’s constantly there, moving around and never letting him forget. He can’t focus on his job, can’t watch telly and can’t go to sleep because he’s too scared to find out it’s still there the next morning.

One night after many hours of trying, he gives up on work, throws the pages across his desk and stares angrily at the pink blob.

A moment later he swears it ducks down. As if cowering away or apologising for distracting him. He stares at it some more, a frown so deep he’s getting a headache over his face, and the blob slowly rises up again—almost optimistic.

Louis doesn’t dare to call the movement hopeful.

“What the fuck are you even supposed to be? My last glimmer of hope? Is that what you’re supposed to symbolise? Once this pink fucking thing disappears there’s nothing good left of me? Is that it?”

He sounds a lot less angrily sarcastic and a lot more franctic than he wants.

The blob keeps expelling something like optimism as it seems to focus on Louis’ every move. Louis finally storms off to bed, too upset with himself and his fucked up head to pay mind to the fact that he feels a bit like a dick for doing so.

---

After their small face off, the blob starts interacting with him more.

Instead of just hovering by his side, it tries to insert itself into whatever it is Louis is doing at the moment. When he’s turning on the microwave it follows the movement of his finger as if it wants to help out. When he’s taking out the trash it waits for him on the doorstep like a puppy waiting for their owner to come back. While working on an especially tricky translation job, it even tries to hold the book for him before he pulls it away with stubborn hands.  

It goes on like this for almost a week and it leaves Louis feeling more exhausted than he has in years. He worries about his mental health even though he doesn’t want to, and does research on hallucinations at night when he can’t sleep.

The fog was one thing, but he’d never in a billion years tell Niall or Liam about this. He knows they’d force him to seek help—maybe they’d even have him hospitalised. As long as the blob isn’t physically hurting him or anything, Louis would rather avoid that at all costs.

He tries to ignore it the best he can, even though it’s admittedly hard when it constantly seems to seek his attention. He refuses to talk to it again. Somehow that would be the final straw—to give in.

---

“How long has it been since your last therapy session?”

The woman in front of him is wearing an uncomfortably neutral expression as her pen hovers over the notepad.

Louis doesn’t really know. Even if lately he’s been able to pick out what day of the week it is, the concept of months and seasons still seem way too daunting.

He shrugs. “Um, a few months maybe?”

“Why did you stop going?” Her eyes never leave him, don’t give him reprieve to close in on himself the way he very much would like to.  

“We didn’t get along.”

That’s the simple answer, if not the right one. Louis still shivers with the memory of how his previous therapist had looked at him, pity and something close to disgust.

“How come?”

When Louis had first gone to see his previous therapist he’d been on a good streak. Had slept properly for a few nights in a row and had managed a full movie night together with Niall and Liam without bailing halfway through. In a moment of gratefulness to the way they’ve stayed by his side through the past few years, he’d agreed on seeing someone.

Seeing someone for the first time since that day almost three years ago when Zayn had been too brokenhearted to try any longer. He had agreed to see a new therapist because his friends so desperately wanted it to work.

A few sessions later the therapist had been two seconds away from getting him locked up in an institution. He had refused to see Louis’ coping mechanisms in a positive light, had made Louis question if the few times he actually felt okay were just make believe, because he couldn’t see anything from Louis’ side. Couldn’t grasp heartache as severe as his, and found it completely puzzling as to why a uni boyfriend would render someone as torn apart.

Not that Louis could really blame him, but the anger with which Liam had reacted when he told him about the whole thing, made Louis realise that maybe the therapist wasn’t right either. Maybe he wasn’t exactly normal, there was nothing normal about his situation after all, but maybe he wasn’t a lost cause either.

He wasn’t what the therapist said he was and if he only took his time, then maybe he could do, if not good, then at least better.

“He thought I was beyond help.”

“And you don’t agree?”

Louis looks up at her then and her neutral expression has twisted into a raised eyebrow and quirk of the mouth.

He snorts. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“So how did you end up here?”

“I’m thinking of going back to work, but I need papers to state I can’t do full time.”

“Hrm. I’m sure we can work something out. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re not beyond help.”

---

Coming out of the shower, hair still wet and body heavy with exhaustion, Louis settles down on the sofa in soft sweats and a jumper. His eyes feel sore with unshed tears and his throat’s tight with holding it all in.

He’s so tired. Scared and lonely and so endlessly tired.

Today he tried to make it over to Liam’s, but on the way there he started crying and couldn’t make himself go on. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. Can’t go back, can’t move forwards, but doesn’t want to be stuck like this. Doesn’t want to cry himself to sleep the few nights that he actually manages to pass out. He just wants to continue on with his life undisturbed without hallucinations and scared thoughts.

Then he feels a soft nudge at his side and he looks up to see the pink blob right there next to him. His first instinct is to push it away, but as soon as he feels it fighting back he gives up. The blob curls against his side, warm and soft, and that’s the moment he stops caring.

He knows he’s gone insane, knows there’s probably no hope for him to recover from this, but with his heart hurting like this it’s almost impossible not to cherish the comforting presence against his him.

The blob slides up his chest and nestles up beneath his chin as silent tears fall down Louis’ cheeks. His mind hasn’t felt this quiet and safe in ages, nor has his chest been so easy to lift with each breath. He closes his eyes and lets himself go, hands brushing carefully against the smooth surface of his own imaginations.

---

He wakes up and the blob is no longer curled against him, but this time he’s not stupid enough to feel hopeful. He guesses it’ll pop up the moment he feels relief, so he doesn’t let himself go there.

His eyes are swollen from tears and sleep, and he rubs his knuckles against them as he stumbles towards the bathroom. Sitting down on the toilet to pee, he nearly falls back asleep and only wakes up when he hits his head on the toilet paper dispenser.

It had felt amazing to give in to the comfort of the blob, to indulge in his own insanity and even if just for one night, not pretend like there’s anything left of him to save. Now his chest feels heavy with each breath, his throat tight and sore. If his job required it, he would’ve definitely called in sick. Now he’s just going to go back to bed and ignore the world for another twenty-four hours.

Even though the kitchen is in the opposite direction of the bedroom, his dry mouth compels him to head for a glass of water before passing out.

With each step, his skin feels a little less tight, a little less itchy and a little less wrong, like it knows it will soon feel the sweet relief of sleep.

---

His chest expands so quickly that it feels like it’s facturing his bones. His heart seemingly doesn’t know whether to run amok or stop completely so it thunders in uneven beats. His eyes flood with tears so unstoppable they are running down his neck before he even notices them.

There in front of him, naked and looking so very real, is Harry.

Relief and grief are both so instant it’s like a first breath of air and the worst of nightmares, all at the same time. He stares with wide eyes at the sight in front of him, a vision of his most inner wishes for close to a decade now.

But never before have those wishes looked real enough to touch, never before have they pushed thoughts and feelings into him through bright green eyes, never before has he been rendered speechless, motionless, endless.

His next breath stumbles out of his throat, thick with tears and the realisation that this is it.

This is where it all ends, and there’s a streak of sorrow in him over the fact that he doesn’t care at all. That the relief battling in his chest is winning and he doesn’t care if this is the end if Harry is what the end means for him. If he gets this vision burned onto his eyelids before his very last breath—he can’t find it in himself to fight it.

His feet drag slowly over the floor, careful as to not dissolve the vision, but greedy enough to want a closer look. He might as well if this is his last chance.

Harry moves at the same time, meeting him between the kitchen table and the fridge. His eyes are shiny with tears and crinkling at the corners because of his wide smile.

“Hi baby,” Harry says, voice cracking ever so slightly.

So real.

Louis just stares, can’t find his voice to even say hello.

Then Harry’s hand comes up to his cheek and Louis revels in it for a short moment before a thousand thoughts knock the wind out of their lungs.

“Wh-what?” Louis tries to rasp out, but his voice is barely there.

The frown he feels over his own forehead is mirrored over Harry’s face and their lips part in wonder.

A thumb brushes against the wrinkles by the corner of Louis’ eye, green eyes lingering by the gray at his temples, and dread shoots like spikes out to the tips of their fingers.

“How-how long… how long have I been gone?”

It takes a while for Louis to even comprehend the question. His first reaction is an eternity, but he knows that’s not what the vision is asking for.

“Darling, please say something.”

Worry seeps into every fine line on Harry’s face and when Louis’ tongue refuses to cooperate he pushes the answer through his mind just like he used to all those years ago before it had become second nature.

“Oh my god.” Horror and regret flood through Louis so strongly it nearly knocks him over as Harry goes quiet, the tears previously glinting in his eyes now falling.

Long arms pull them together until there’s nothing but soft cotton separating them. When Harry’s lips brush against his throat, goosebumps break out in a violent burst and the first spark of doubt hits Louis like a trainwreck.

Harry is solid against him, but the hands traveling up Louis’ back feel like a buzzing spark. As if they’ve melted through the fabric of his shirt and blended together with his spine.

Louis doesn’t think that his mind in a million years could recreate that sensation even in his last moments. He wrenches them apart, needs to look into those eyes again and find something there to solidify his trembling thoughts.

“You’re real.”

Harry clutches at his own bare chest. As if he’s trying to keep it from disintegrating. “I tried to come back as soon as I could, I—” A sob rips from his throat. “Oh god, I… I tried .”

Louis can’t make sense of it, because Harry has been gone for uncountable intakes of breath. There’s been too many heartbeats since their one heart was ripped apart.

The words “come back” cannot possibly make sense in a world where only a shadow of their existence was left behind.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know how it would work, but the moment I got back I was looking for a way to find you again.”

It sounds like fantasy. It truly sounds like Louis’ wildest dreams. But the devastation in Harry’s eyes couldn’t possibly be a figment of Louis’ imagination.

“You left.”

Louis has to start at the beginning, has to work out what the rift between them was founded on.

“I had to, you know I… they said it was… if my kind calls you back, you just go, it’s supposed to be the most important thing of all, like. It’s supposed to be more important than anything in the universe.”

It’s all just words. Even if Louis remembers everything Harry told him—that even above curiosity or pride, loyalty to their kind was everything to the symbiotes.

But to Louis that doesn’t mean anything in the wake of falling to pieces.

“You. Left.” His jaw is clenched tight and despite himself he’s trying to fight against hope. Trying to hold onto the empty space in between his veins, because right now they’re more familiar than the feeling of their pulses thrumming like one.

Harry sobs and clenches his fists against his ribcage, as if he’s hurting on the other side of those bones. “I went because I had to, to say goodbye. To tell them I had found my final stop. I always meant to come back. Always.”

“But I didn’t know that, did I? You didn’t say a word, you just left like I wasn’t a permanent part of you, like every part of me wasn’t fucking intertwined with you. You left me here like I was dirt under your nails and not your entire fucking heart!”

He hasn’t raised his voice in longer than he can remember and it burns to the tip of his tongue.

“I wasn’t supposed to be gone for long! I thought… when I came back here, I thought I’d been gone a few weeks at the most. A short break and not… not this .”

Louis’ mind whirrs with thoughts, confusing to the point of nausea. “How did you even manage to hide it from me? How could you pretend like it was all fine and hide it from me for so long?”

Harry looks like a wild creature of desperation and devastation.

“I couldn’t hide it from you, you knew something was off, you told me all the time. Baby, I’m. I was only there long enough to leave my…” Harry stops, searching for a human word. “—locket, then I left. It gets a little fuzzy after that, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been here for a while now. Trying to- to- to-”

And just like that, Louis’ rapid thoughts simmer down and he nearly chokes on the fondness welling up in him.

Harry getting worked up to the point where he loses the ability to talk, just gets stuck on one word until the rest of him has caught up on his rambling thoughts—it’s so painfully familiar.

“Hey shh, calm down,” he says and can’t stop himself from touching. His fingers tremble down Harry’s downy cheeks and love starts seeping into that cold vacuum filling him.

Harry nuzzles into the palm of his hand and reaches up to keep him there. “I swear it, I promise, I. I’ve been trying for weeks.”

Louis leans in, all heat gone now, and rests his forehead against Harry’s temple.

“It was you all along,” he whispers as the realisation hits him.

Weeks of a fog, a persistent presence, a pink hue at the corner of his eye and that blob that made him lose his mind.

“I know you didn’t see it last time, because I’d already been here for so long, but it takes a little bit to grow into the new body. I thought you’d… I thought if I just hung around, you’d understand it was me.” Harry’s chin still wobbles slightly as he talks.

Louis’ cheeks heat, because the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Harry… you’ve been gone for nine years, how could I possibly—”

Harry crumbles again, crushing himself against Louis and intensifying that buzzing spark with every slide of his fingers.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know how to ever- how to make it up to you. How to-to fix it.”

As Harry shatters in his arms, his mind projecting an endless row of heartbreak and his body trembling with pain, Louis feels every new fill of air in his lungs push away the agony.

To let pain and anger take reign when he finally has everything he’s ever wished for seems like a fool’s mistake.

“You already did, sweetheart, you already fixed it.” His voice comes out in that special timbre it only ever does when he’s with Harry. He pushes back a tear-stained curl and lets his lips graze against Harry’s cheek as he talks. “You’re here, that’s all I want.”

Harry leans back enough to look at him. “Please believe me, I promise I never meant to—”

“Love,” Louis interrupts him, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “I already know, you know.”

Because he does.

Even though his first instinct was to push it away, to not trust it, to ignore it in favor of letting go, he feels Harry’s sincerity in every last cell of his body. He feels the longing Harry has endured as they’ve been apart, and even though to Harry it’s only been a few weeks, Louis feels it like it’s a mild echo of his own.

Looking at each other, Louis feels his mind tap into Harry’s stream of thought, like tuning into the right channel after a long time of radio silence. With every moment passing by Louis’ body screams for him to heal, to finally become whole again.

Harry feels it too and pushes closer. His naked skin already like soft waves against Louis, a prickle of heat up his spine and the faint smell of metallic filling his nose.

“Please,” Louis rasps out, eyes tearing up at the close proximity of what he thought was impossible. Harry back in his arms, Harry’s smile and emerald eyes. Harry breathing life into his blood and sparking electricity in his brain.

Harry leans down, his breath hitting Louis’ face as his nose caress along the cut of Louis’ cheekbone. “I’ll be here forever now. I’ll never have to leave again.”

The painful memory of earlier promises flash through Louis’ mind and another bout of agony shoots through him from Harry. Knowing that Harry can feel every inch of his bottomless pain doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“I know,” Harry says, eyelashes fluttering against Louis’ temple as he closes his eyes and swallows. “But there’s nothing to go back to now, I gave them… I gave them up for you.”

If it wasn’t for the way he’s unable to let go of his own grief while also being overwhelmed with relief, he might’ve lingered on the sorrowful but determined feeling in Harry’s chest.

What Harry gave up to get back here with him is unfathomable, but so are the past nine years of being torn apart.

Please. Louis begs again and this time Harry listens.

Soft pillowy lips meet Louis’ chapped ones and his skin flutters with those rivulettes of weightless water.

They gasp with their next breath, their chest heaving with the ability to finally breathe for the first time in aeons.

I love you. I love you so much, please .

You’re the only thing that matters. The only thing that ever mattered.

We’re the only thing that matters.

Yes. We.

---

With every day that passes, the hurt and pain subsides, melting slowly but surely. The aching emptiness in their atoms fills with the brightest light.

They spend the first few days in bed, intertwined and then one, gasping against each other and then together. Tears of elation fall from their eyes and their kisses taste of salt. Even after all this time, they don’t need any time to settle in, to get used to the feeling once again, because once they start, it’s like they never ended.

In just a few short days, Louis’ memory of being torn apart starts fading into a long lost thought. A distant nightmare that happened to someone else, because he cannot fathom how he could ever be apart from this. From their fingers sliding into wet heat and toes curling with pleasure. From touches light as feathers caressing over dewy skin and their heart bursting at the seams with their love.

---

Eventually though, the world zooms in from around them with the shrill signal of Louis’ phone. It’s a reflex to reach for the phone because he promised them he’d always pick up.

Who do you think it is? Niall? Zayn?

Probably Niall. Louis ignores Harry’s mental frown at the dash of pain at the mention of Zayn, and picks up the phone from the floor, hanging halfway over the side of the bed.

“Hiya!”

“Louis?”

It is Niall and Louis falls back against the bed, automatically curling into Harry’s torso that have appeared next to him on the mattress.

“Yeah, what’s happening?”

“Are you alright?” Niall sounds so alarmed that Louis bursts out in a laugh.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sound high or summat, do I need to pick you up somewhere?”

High on serotonin maybe.

Why does he think you’re high at all?

I probably sound too happy.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just. Umm…”

He doesn’t think you should be happy?

I don’t think he believes I can be.

“What? What’s going on?” Niall’s voice is strained and they feel a tightness around the ribcage.

The fact that their friend is so unsettled by Louis sounding happy, is disheartening. That Louis’ laughter is cause for worry, is so sick their lungs burn.

“Hey,” Louis says softly, the laughter gone from his voice as he knows his friend has had cause to worry in the past. “I promise I’m alright. I’d love to hang out sometime soon, alright? I’ll… tell you everything then, but please don’t worry.”

“That sounds so fucking ominous, mate. Jesus.” Niall sighs into the phone. “But sure. Friday okay?”

I don’t even know what day it is. Is Friday good?

Wednesday and yeah, can’t wait to see them again.

They will definitely have to talk about this. Louis isn’t sure that Harry has picked up on the fact that Niall and Liam will most probably not be happy to see him.

“Friday’s perfect. See ya then, love you.”

“Love you Loulou, take care.” They hang up and Louis throws the phone back onto a pile of clothes on the floor.

He’s definitely freaking out now.

Why? I mean. I know you’ve been, that it’s been, that you— Harry is rambling, their heartbeat picking up with distress.

“Calm down love.” Louis smooths a hand down Harry’s chest to rest over his heart. He’s going to be alright, I’ll just have to talk to them. We can’t expect them not to notice. I’m another person when I’m with you, I won’t be able to hide that.

I don’t want you to. I want to see them, I want… gosh, they hate me, right? Of course they hate me, how could they not? I left you, I made you ill, I—

Stop it. Louis leans up to kiss him. They’re not big fans of yours, but they’re wrong. I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them it’s a misunderstanding or something.

And you really think that’s going to work?

I don’t know. It’ll have to.

---

On Friday they’re incredibly nervous. Louis tries to act like it’s all going to be fine, even though he can’t really picture how, and over the past two days Harry’s initial excitement has deteriorated into the early stages of panic.

I’d never forgive me if I were them. I’d probably like, kill me for even thinking-

This is Liam we’re talking about love, not a homicidal maniac.

Still.

A moment passes and Louis can’t really come up with anything else to say.

Yeah, still.

---

Liam pulls them into a hug the moment he opens the door, eyes dancing with worry.

“Hey, how are you?”

They pull him close, hands holding onto Liam’s shoulder blades, and Harry soaks up the warmth of the friend he’s so scared of losing. The friend that to Harry, he met just a few weeks ago, but who hasn’t seen him in almost a decade.

“Good, really good,” Louis says and smiles carefully as they move out of the embrace.

Being alone with Harry, smiling and laughing felt like the most natural thing, but now there’s a stiffness at the corner of their mouth.

Of course he’s smiled in all the years that have passed, but he knows he looks different. That the light in his eyes can’t be compared to what his friends are used to seeing. That one look at him can tell them that something has fundamentally changed.

“Great,” Liam says with a smile, eyes still wary.

“What the fuck has happened to my best mate?” Niall thunders when he enters the hallway, as always contrasting Liam’s gentle carefulness.

“One could think you want me to be a miserable git,” Louis says into his shoulder as they hug.

Niall smacks him up the back of his head, before pulling him in to plant a kiss at his temple. “Shut your mouth.”

They have weird friends.

Piling into the living room, Harry nervously twists their hands together and Louis lets him.

We’ll be alright, just calm down and don’t interrupt me.

They’ll never forgive me. How could they?

You make me happy. They’ll see that.

I hope you’re right.

They sit down in the armchair and watch as Niall and Liam sit down on the sofa, as close as they can get to Louis without falling out of their seats.

“Listen, I’m sorry we’re being weird about you seeming happy, but it’s just—” Niall starts and Louis waves him off.

“I get it, mate. I do.”

“Haven’t seen you like this since… I mean, it’s a bit… well, I’m happy you’re… whatever this is,” Liam stumbles through the sentence and they smile warmly at him, eyes burning with fondness.

“You haven’t seen me like this since Harry,” Louis says, voice coming out soft and raspy.

Liam nods and reaches over to touch him, a hand on their knee. “So what’s going on?”

Suddenly, their throat closes up and the next intake of breath feels forced.

Looking at his friends it hits Louis with a massive force what these two people have done for him. How they’ve stayed by his side even though no one would’ve blamed them for leaving. When he was too angry, too hollow and too tired. When nothing else was holding him together, these two cuddled his trembling frame close and kissed his forehead.

And now they’re about to unravel everything. All the years of painfully slow progress, of each smile counting as another step, of each meal properly cooked and eaten seen as a milestone. Years when he must’ve given them nothing but grief and yet they still acted like they were lucky to have him.

I’m so sorry.

Shh, it’ll be fine.

Louis takes a deep breath, filling their lungs with air that seems thinner than just moments before. “Well, the simple answer is—Harry is back.”

Two pairs of eyes stare back at him, blank expressions on their faces and silence nearly crackling with static. They gulp against the knot in their throat before Louis continues.

“I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear, but I promise it’s not a bad thing.”

Niall’s brows furrow and his voice breaks when he talks. “What exactly do you mean ‘Harry is back?’”

“He came back to me.” Louis can sense Harry’s urge to unravel into another endless row of guilt and shame, but can also tell he’s holding himself back.

Liam shakes his head slowly. “He just left, he’s been gone forever, not a single text message or anything , this... this doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know it doesn’t. I can’t even imagine what it must sound like to you—”

“No, you can’t. He fucking broke you Louis, nearly killed you, what the fuck do you mean ‘he’s back’, he can’t be! ”

They wince like they’ve been slapped across the face, their heart running wildly in their chest and Harry fighting against tears. Louis has never heard Liam burst out like that. Never seen his eyes so wild with anger and hurt.

“I’m sorry.” It’s both Louis and Harry putting their heart into it.

Niall looks between Liam and Louis, frown still all over his face. “What happened? You can’t tell me he just showed up on your doorstep and you let him in without question. There’s gotta be… you gotta tell us what happened.”

Helplessness seeps into their bones and they sag against the backrest. For the first time since Harry came back, Louis feels that hint of tiredness that used be so integral to who he was as a person.

He doesn’t want to go through this.

Doesn’t know how he can possibly find the strength, like the years of constant exhaustion have worn down his senses, have gnawed away at his muscles and bones. How does he explain to the people who carried him for so long, that it was all worth it. That even if he was sure he’d live the rest of his life being just a broken piece of a whole part, he’d do it all over again if the end result was always Harry coming back to him.

He closes their burning eyes, swallows against the salt at the back of their throat.

Their skin trickles like water. Like the first thaw of spring.

“What the fuck!” Niall shrieks and Liam lets out a scream so horrifying the hair on their arms stand up. Louis blinks their eyes open only to be met by the backside of Harry’s head. Warm brown curls and the small freckle by his nape.

Oh shit.

“Hi,” Harry says, raising his hands in the air like he’s trying to calm their friends who are inching back towards the opposite side of the sofa.

“What the fuck is happening, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuuuuck.”

If it wasn’t for how utterly terrified he sounds, Louis’ could almost laugh at Niall’s panicked outburst. It’s just Harry after all, but on some level he still understands how a torso coming out of their friend’s stomach could be a bit unsettling.

What the fuck are you doing? You said they can’t know.

Just let me do this. I love you.

That’s not a valid excuse for every single thing in this world.

It is to me.

Harry slowly becomes a weight on top of Louis’ thighs before he shifts to sit on the armrest, their hands automatically twining together against Harry’s hip, still not comfortable to be separated completely.

“I understand this must be a bit, umm, scary perhaps, but we can explain,” Harry says slowly, trying to placate the others again.

“Scary?! Louis what the fuck is this, what is that?!”

The tiredness might have melted away by now, but Louis still feels unprepared to really deal with this, and he can’t fight the way the corner of his mouth twists at the absolute absurdity of the situation.

Of course Harry would choose the most ridiculous and full frontal way of telling their friends what has happened.

If one of them has a heart attack, you’re the one driving us to the ER.

You know I can’t drive.

Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you did this.

Louis realises that maybe he’s the one who should try to tamper down the situation, so he leans forward carefully and smiles at their friends.

“I know this is creepy and weird as fuck to you, but if you just give us a moment we’ll explain everything.”

Liam and Niall stare back at him for a moment before looking back at Harry. He guesses that’s as good as it’s going to get for now. As long as they don’t leave the room, he’ll count it as a success.

“So. I might’ve mentioned a few times over the year that I… that Harry was missing from me. That without him I didn’t feel whole.”

There’s a twitch of recognition on Liam’s face.

“It’s because he’s. Harry’s a symbiote.”

There.

I don’t think they understand—

“A symbiote?” Niall’s eyes flicker back and forth between Louis and Harry again. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Umm, well, we’re an alien species,” Harry says.

The corner of Louis’ mouth twitches again. You blunt lovely thing.

“Louis, what the fuck? Is this some kind of hallucination? Did the bastard drug us?” Niall’s face is fading from sheet white to a blotchy red.

“Why is that always the conclusion people jump to? Drugs are bad for you, why would I—” Harry’s eyes are wide with sincerity.

“Love, please just,” Louis clutches their hands together a bit tighter and Harry falls silent. Louis turns back to Liam and Niall. “I know that’s what it seems like, it was my first thought when I met Harry too, but I promise that’s not the case.”

“We’re just supposed to believe he’s an alien?” Liam asks.

“Well, you did just see him appear out of my stomach so there’s that. But. Please think about it. You both know what happened to me didn’t make sense with a usual break up.”

Liam’s eyes fall to the floor and soon there’s a frown on his face matching Niall’s.

Harry clears his throat, startling Louis out of staring at their friends.

“I know you probably hate me for what happened, and I get that, I would too, but I. I promise I never meant to hurt him. It was all a really huge mistake.”

“Why should we listen to you? Even if that’s true, you just said you’re a bloody alien . For all we know you’ve like, coerced Louis into this whole thing, maybe you’re forcing him to say all this!” Niall waves his hands in front of them to make his point.

Huh, I didn’t think of that.

That’s ‘cause it’s ridiculous. Why would I want to force anyone to be a host?

Maybe if you’re a predatory alien looking to take over planet earth.

Pfft, can you even imagine what kind of disaster that would be?

A wonderful one I’m sure.

You’re biased.

What are we even—

“Hello?!” They’re drawn out of their minds at Niall’s exclamation and Louis shakes his head to get back into the conversation happening out loud.

“Sorry, erh, I’m not a predatory alien looking to take over the world. Really. All I wanted was to find Louis and I did.”

“Find Louis? What did you want him for?” Liam asks and Louis is really beyond interpreting the expression on his friends’ faces by now, as they shift with every word and moment of silence.

Harry, though, he can understand perfectly. As Harry’s eyes go glassy, his cheeks rosy red and he bites his bottom lip sheepishly. “He’s my soulmate, that’s why.”

Louis’ belly flutters and their blood pulses in a joined rhythm at their fingertips.

“Soulmate? Like… like romantically?”

Yes, get with the program Neil.

What’s so hard to understand about romantic aliens? Why are humans so keen on thinking you’re the only ones who want love?

We’re selfish idiots, maybe you should get with the program too.  

“Wait…” Liam looks at them, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What are you—you used to do this all the time, looking at eachother like that, does that mean anything? Are you guys like, telepathing with each other or something?”

“ Telepathing?” Niall scoffs. “Seriously Liam? Do you think—”

“Well, basically... yeah,” Louis interrupts him and Harry nods.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Niall swears and then sinks back into the sofa, like the air has finally run out of him.

“Well, it still doesn’t explain why you’ve been gone for a decade, none of this does.” Leave it to sweet, sometimes rather strange-minded Liam, to be sharp as a knife when it comes to the otherworldly.

Harry untangles their fingers, instead sliding down slightly on the seat so their thighs press together, always touching. Then he rubs his palms on his legs like he’s sweating.

Even though they’re separated for the moment Louis feels the lump of tears in this throat.

It’s alright love.

It’s really really not.

“Okay so, the thing is. I got called back, and the tradition says you have to go back. We’re supposed to always be the most loyal to our kind so I just. I had to go. But I always, always, meant to come back. And despite that, leaving Louis was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, being separated from him is the most painful thing in the world. So as soon as I could, I left my locket and I went back.”

“Locket? What locket?”

Liam waves for Niall to be quiet. “As soon as you could? Why did it take you so long to do whatever it is you had to do?”

Harry closes his eyes against the tears and takes a deep breath. “It was only a couple of weeks, I thought it would work but I must’ve botched it up somehow.”

Leaning into Harry, Louis puts an arm around his waist, nuzzling into his ribcage to comfort.

“When he came back he seriously thought he’d only been gone a short while, I think he freaked out when he saw my wrinkles.” He goes for a joke but ends up choking on the last words.

“I didn’t freak out because of the wrinkles, they’re beautiful, just, the idea that I caused you so much pain. I’ll never forgive myself.”

Harry touches his face, soft fingers caressing down his cheek and Louis leans into him even more.

This conversation is a bloody mess, and Louis barely knows what is said out loud and what is transferred directly between synapses. Doesn’t know if they’re staying on track to make sure Liam and Niall understand what has happened. It’s not like he planned for the conversation to go in this direction to begin with.

“So you’re just back now? Like nothing happened?” Niall looks at them with concern, something fluttering in his eyes like he can’t make up his mind about what has just happened.

“Not like nothing happened,” Louis answers in Harry’s stead. “Harry knows. We… he knows everything that’s happened with me. When we’re together he feels everything, knows every thought. This isn’t... it’s not easy for either of us, but you know what I was like by myself. There’s not a part of me that doesn’t want this. That doesn’t need him like he needs me. Like we need us.”

“This is so fucking insane. This is like. So next level fucked up I don’t think there’s ever been anything as fucked up as this ever.” Niall drags his fingers through his hair and looks up at the ceiling.

He should be glad he doesn’t know about our sexlife.

There’s nothing fucked up about our sexlife.

There’s nothing not fucked up about our sexlife, babe. It’s the best.

“Stop telepathing, it’s rude!” Liam scolds and they both look at him in surprise, yet again too caught up in each other.

“Sorry, sorry!” Harry says, shoulders rising up towards his ears because he’s the only one Liam’s scolding actually works on.

Louis just snorts. “I swear to god you don’t want to know what we’re talking about half of the time.”

Niall stands up abruptly from the sofa at that. “I need a shot of something, y’all are bloody nuts.”

“I think we all could use something strong to be honest.” Louis agrees and Harry nods with a deep sigh of relief. Like he thinks the worst of the conversation is over and done with.

He might be right, but Louis is pretty sure this is only the beginning.

At least it’s something.

---

Louis thought that all he could ever want was Harry, and in a way that’s true. If all he could have was Harry, then he’d still be the luckiest man alive. What he has now though, is beyond what even Harry, who has travelled through the darkest and brightest of places, could imagine.

They have each other, they get to live and breathe in this world as one, but then at the end of the day they get to laugh and share and talk for hours freely in a room of people they love.

Their first four years together were absolutely shared, but part of them was always hidden in darkness. The very core of them where their spine tingles and love is sparkling in the pulse of their blood, is now allowed to be cherished and celebrated.

At least to a reasonable degree before Niall snaps and yells at them for being gross or Liam pouts too hard at being left out of the conversation.

They’re really working on being less rude. They are.

“When you two get married, I’m going make a speech about every nasty thing the two of you have done in my company. Everyone is going to find out I swear to god,” Niall says when he catches them making out, only half way separated, during movie night. Arms tangled around each other and stomachs fluttering with small waves where they’re connected.

They break apart and Louis rolls his eyes as Harry grins wildly.

“Lucky us, we’re not getting married.”

“Why not?” Liam asks, only now breaking his gaze away from the tv screen.

Yeah, why not?

“Harry isn’t exactly registered anywhere, so who am I supposed to get registered to?” He butts his head carefully against Harry’s.

“Eh, you could do like a symbolic thing? It seems weird you two wouldn’t.” Liam concludes before turning back to the movie.

Yeah, you hear that? We could do ‘like a symbolic thing’. Harry’s eyes are shining so bright of emerald anyone but Louis would feel the urge to look away.

“You really want that?” Louis asks, his voice coming out awfully soft.

Harry’s dimples deepens impossibly. “I want to belong to you in every way that I can.”

You really are the most romantic alien in the universe, aren’t you?

You know I could say the same thing about you.

Louis lets his face mirror Harry’s, dimples deep and eyes crinkling at the corners.

Well, then we are.