Archive of Our Own

Three days. 

Three days since the tree lighting. 

Three days until the Christmas party. 

Three days that Harry had agonized over whether or not he was making the right choice, and now he only had three days left if he was going to go through with it. 

The thing was, he needed to talk it through with someone, and the obvious people on his list were also the least likely. Given Zayn’s animosity toward Louis, he wasn’t a viable option. That also left Liam as unavailable - if he talked to Liam, Liam would tell Zayn, which would turn into Zayn doubly losing his shit - not only because of the idea, but also for not being Harry’s first choice of confidante. Harry didn’t know if Niall could keep a secret, and Louis was, for obvious reasons, not even a consideration. 

He’d been racking his brain for a solution since he’d left the flat this morning. Once again, Louis had set out Harry’s cup next to the still warm kettle before he’d left to his offices - just one more simple gesture tipping the scales toward the new balance he hadn’t known he was looking for. A balance that had slowly revealed itself in the form of his sarcastic, kind, quick-tempered, generous flatmate.

Distracted, he aimlessly jabbed a sprig of pine bough into the arrangement he’d been working on, a needle embedding itself in his thumb and drawing blood. Aggravated, Harry stepped back and shoved the injured digit in his mouth. As he walked over to the sink to wash the wound and apply a plaster, he took a minute to center his mind and evaluate his options. And then it hit him. 

Jesy. 

Jesy had been the one who suggested Louis’ flat from the get go and had fully supported Harry’s decision to move in. She’d extended the invite to the tree-lighting to Louis and him as if they were already a single entity, not just flatmates, and had been the one to suggest the idea of the Christmas decorating party. Somehow, deep in his heart, Harry knew that she would be the best option for what he needed to do. He pulled out his phone, cringed at the bold date in the center of the display, and dialed Jesy’s number, then said a silent prayer she’d be available. If he truly intended to pick up Louis’ gift, it had to be today. He didn’t have another free afternoon before the party. The phone rang through to voicemail, and Harry muttered a curse while he waited to leave a message, nervously chewing on a ragged hangnail he’d forgotten to trim. 

“Hey, Jesy, it’s uhm, it’s Harry. I know it’s late notice, but I was wondering if you might be available this afternoon, ‘round two or so. I have an errand I need to run… uhm a gift I need to pick up, and today’s really the only day I have to do it. So… uhmmmm… yeah. Just… I dunno, like, give me a call back and let me know, ‘kay? No pressure, it just would be kinda nice to have some company, maybe some help choosing the right thing.” 

Harry disconnected the call and dropped his phone on the worktable. He turned a critical eye on the arrangement he’d been creating, shifted some greenery, then added a couple more sprigs of baby’s breath. He shrugged, then turned toward the spools of ribbon, crafting a large bow and some tulle puffs to tuck into it. Satisfied with the result, he carried the arrangement to the walk-in cooler. He rolled his shoulders and checked the time. Half past eleven, and Lulu, the new girl, was scheduled for noon. She’d been with them a couple weeks, and had a great eye, so he planned to have her work on the centerpiece order they were scheduled to deliver the next morning. He could work on small grab-and-go arrangements for the front display coolers and cover the till, whilst still being available to give her a hand if needed. Regardless, he had to leave promptly at two if he wanted to finish his errand and make it home before Louis did. 

Jesy’s return call and excitement at their shopping expedition had sent a rush of adrenaline through him, followed by a sobering wave of doubt. Yeah, no. The uncertainty was exactly why he needed Jesy with him. She’d tell him straight off, in no uncertain terms, if she thought Harry had the wrong read on things, or if this was a horrible idea. She’d asked several times during her call who they were shopping for, but Harry had danced around naming the recipient, not wanting to say too much until he could swear her to secrecy in person. 

Jesy was one of those “our friends” out of the ‘your, mine, ours’ menagerie that had developed from Zayn and Liam dating, then expanded when Louis and he became flatmates. Harry felt pretty certain she’d keep the secret, but he needed to look her in the eyes, so she’d understand how important it was to him that no one suspect anything prior to the gift exchange. 

∞∞∞

At ten of two, Harry waved goodbye to Lulu and buttoned his coat while he walked out of the flower shop. The weather had turned decidedly colder, the light drizzle from the morning turned to an icy fog fed by the arctic wind blowing in off the Thames, and the forecasters hinted at snow. He paused to pull his scarf closer around his neck, the cold air on the nervous sweat sending shivers through him. They’d agreed to meet at the outskirts of the Christmas market, and he hurried down into the tube, grateful for the reprieve from the bitter wind that whipped between the buildings. He ignored the social media notifications and emails he needed to check on his phone in favor of flipping through the scarce few pictures he’d surreptitiously taken of Louis over the past few weeks under the guise of ‘testing’ his new phone’s camera. 

And then there was the one Barbara had sent. 

She’d taken it the Saturday prior and sent it to Harry early Sunday morning, with a text that simply read, “Oh Harry” and a string of heart eye emojis. 

Harry remembered the moment so clearly. Louis had been staring up at the tree, shouting out the last few numbers of the countdown, anticipation and joy filling his entire being with a light that had left Harry awestruck. It had taken everything in him not to kiss Louis right there and then, underneath the twinkling stars and lights, in front of all their friends. The only thing that had stopped him at the time was the fear that he had misinterpreted Louis' kindness, inflating it in his own mind to an interest in something more than friendship. 

 Lost in his head, he nearly missed the station call, scrabbling to his feet to make the door. The streets around Leicester Square were filled with tourists and shoppers, and Harry despaired of finding Jesy in the press. He pulled out his phone, intending to text her, when he felt a tug on his sleeve, and turned to receive an exuberant hug. 

“Alright, Styles.” Jesy held onto his arms, leaning back to meet his eyes.  “I’m here. I’m freezing my arse off, but I’m here. Now - enough with the secrecy! Who are we shopping for?” A twinkle of mischief highlighted her eyes, a clever, but kind smile enveloping Harry in it’s warmth. She knew. There wasn’t a doubt in Harry’s mind. 

Harry glanced away from her impatient anticipation, and looked over her head to ponder the sparkle and glow of the festivities in the square refracting off every window, the veil of fog unable to hide the beauty and joy of the season. His nerves settled, the butterflies in his stomach stilled, and a sense of peace and rightness washed over him. He looked back down at Jesy, and returned her smile with one of his own, certain she could hear his heart over the bustle of the city.

“Louis. We’re shopping for Louis.” He barely finished the sentence before Jesy wrapped him in a strangling hug. 

“Yay! I knew it!” She released him, then tucked her arm through his and pointed down the street. “We’re going to Pret, you’re buying me a coffee, and we are going to talk about this before we buy anything.”

“You’re not going to try to talk me out of it, are you?” Harry fretted, even as he allowed her to pull him in the direction of the coffee shop. 

“Absolutely not!” Jesy retorted. “On the contrary. You’re going to tell me about your Louis, the one you’ve come to know over the last two and a half months, ” Harry reached around her to open the door, and stepped aside to let Jesy enter Pret first. She glided past him with a soft touch to his coat sleeve, then finished her sentence, “ and we are going to find the most perfect gift to ever be given.”

∞∞∞

They settled in a corner booth, coats and winter gear discarded on the benches next to them, cups of flat white warming their hands. 

“So…” Jesy dived in, leaving the word lingering between them, an obvious invitation for Harry to spill the details. 

Harry took a sip from his cup, using the brief moment to corral the memories and thoughts of the last few months, a swirling dervish of everything - from the most minute to the looming elephant in the corner - that had led him to right now. 

Jesy kicked him under the table. “Hazza! Don’t you dare leave me hanging!” She leaned an elbow on the table, rested her chin in her hand, and batted her eyelashes in the least convincing imitation of mock innocence. “Do I need to start asking specific questions? Cause I can, and will, and I guarantee one of us will be blushing by the end, and it won’t be me.”

Harry barked out a laugh, clapping his hand over his mouth, then smiled at a recalled memory. “That. Laughing. I think it started right from the beginning. Louis made me laugh, when I was at my absolute lowest, and he did it by simply being himself. And every day since, in the smallest, simplest ways, he’s continued to be himself. He’s never treated me like fine china - too delicate to face the real world, like Zayn did after Aiden left.” 

Harry paused, tripping over his ex’s name, and Jesy reached for his hand.  He regrouped, smiled his thanks, and continued, “I mean, I know why. Zayn was there through the worst and he thought he was protecting me, but I also know now it wasn’t what I needed. I wallowed when I should have been re-evaluating. ” Harry took a sip of his coffee, and couldn’t forestall the soft smile that crept over his face. “Louis’ different, in all the best ways. Even when something I’ve done annoys him - and I’m not blind to my own faults, I can be annoying as fuck at times - Louis has never belittled me or treated my presence as an inconvenience. He gave me space, and a safe place, to rediscover who I am.” Harry sighed. “And, despite some people’s concerns, he’s been nothing but a friend, a true friend, from the beginning.”

“You mean Zayn’s concerns, right?” Jesy asked. Harry nodded, and Jesy elaborated on her question. “I may be speaking out of turn here, and if I am, know that it comes from a place of love. Zayn’s heart is in the right place, but his perception of Louis may be a bit skewed.” 

“Ya think?” Harry snorted. “Turns out Louis may have had the best forethought out of all of us. He apparently never liked Aiden.” 

“No, he didn’t, and if you know that, then I’m guessing he’s the one who told you.”

“Yeah, uh… he mentioned it once, not too long after I’d moved in.”  Harry cleared his throat. The memory of that first heart -to-heart still touched Harry, more deeply now than it had at the time. Louis’ quiet support and his staunch defense of Harry, when Harry would have allowed his pain to drag him down, had been the first real instance when Harry realized there was more to life than being in a one-sided relationship. “I also had a vague memory of Zayn saying something similar in the past, but with a good bit of derision toward Louis.  After Louis brought it up, I tried talking to Zayn about it again, but the topic caused some tension between him and Liam, so I let it go.”

“Well, let’s just say that Zayn was worried that Louis’ offer wasn’t exactly grounded in selflessness.”

“Seriously? Why?” Harry waved the question away as soon as he said it. “You know what, nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Whatever Zayn might have thought Louis’ intentions were, I’ve never once felt uncomfortable, or a burden, or taken for granted. That’s more than I can say for a large portion of my relationship with Aiden. And that’s my Louis, the one I’ve grown to love.” Jesy’s stifled squeal of delight and clapped her hands, then leaned across the table to give Harry a hug. 

“Well - that being said, then - what, exactly, are you looking for with this gift? Something that says ‘Thanks for being my friend’?” Harry shrugged, then wrinkled his nose in displeasure with a decided shake of his head. “Or maybe something more along the lines of , ‘I think you’re hot and I wanna shag you stupid’?” 

Harry choked on his coffee. He rolled his eyes at Jesy, then grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth and the table. “How about something that suggests - ‘I’m ready to move on, and I want you to be the one I move on with’?” Harry suggested, his voice soft and hesitant, an immediate feeling of panic filling his chest. “And that’s the thing. What if he says no?”

“What if he doesn’t?” Jesy countered. “Maybe it’s time to stop looking at the worst case scenario, and consider the real possibility that you aren’t the only one who’s developed feelings here?”

“I just… How did you and Barb see it, and I couldn’t? I mean, hell I just figured it out.” 

“Oh, Harry. I think you’ve known, in your heart, for a lot longer than you were willing to let your mind believe.” She laid her hand on top of his, stilling the nervous tapping of his fingers on the tabletop. “It wasn’t hard to tell, not really. There’s a way you look at him, especially when you think no one else can see you.” She paused, as if trying to find the right description. “Like he’s ethereal, and you’ve been blessed by his existence.” 

“Barb sent me a picture, uhm, Sunday, after the tree lighting.” Harry opened his phone, the picture still on-screen from when he’d been staring at it on the tube. He slid it across to Jesy, then picked up their empty cups and left to dispose of them in the bin. He didn’t want to watch the play of emotions on Jesy’s face, not when he had been struggling with his thoughts all morning. 

He came back to the table with two fresh cups of coffee, and set them down before retaking his seat. 

“The picture bothers you?” Jesy slid the phone back across the table.

“No. I mean… I don’t think bothers is the right word. It’s unsettling. It makes me wonder how long I’ve been that transparent, and whether or not Louis noticed. Or even, you know, how long it would’ve taken me to figure it out on my own if Barb hadn’t sent the picture.”

“And now?”

“Now?” Harry scrubbed his hand through his hair, twisting the end of a stray curl around his finger. “Now… uhhmmm. Now, I feel like I’m wasting time, and if I don’t hurry up, something might happen, and I’ll miss my chance to tell Louis how I feel, and at the same time, I’m terrified it’s all one-sided and I’m going to ruin a really good friendship, along with losing the home I just found.” 

“I think you may be underestimating Louis. However, I’m almost positive your feelings aren’t one-sided. I mean, let’s be real here. All that animosity Louis harboured toward Aiden had to have come from somewhere, and I don’t think it was a place of altruism.” With that, Jesy stood and scooped up her coat and gloves. 

“Come on, Princess Buttercup. Let’s find your fair Wesley the perfect gift.” 

 ∞∞∞

 They’d been wandering the market for nearly two hours, Jesy suggesting, and Harry discarding, a variety of gift ideas. Music, books, trinkets. Harry checked his phone again, becoming more frustrated. “Jes, I don’t have much time left, and I feel like we’re spinning our wheels here.” 

“I’ve got time, Harry, I don’t need to rush off anywhere. Don’t give up, yet. We’ve barely started looking, and the right gift is out there, we just need to be patient.” 

“Here’s the thing- I don’t want Louis to have even a hint that I’m shopping for him. We kinda had an agreement to not exchange Christmas gifts,” Harry rushed on when it looked like Jesy was going to interject, “But this isn’t exactly meant to be a Christmas gift, so it doesn’t count, right?” He glanced at his phone again, frowning at the minutes that had ticked away since the last time he looked. “But we have an agreement, if either of us is running significantly later than usual, we let the other person know where we are, so no one is left worrying at home because someone didn’t show up.” 

Jesy stared at him, then nodded with a knowing smile. 

Flustered by her reaction, Harry pressed on, anxious to justify his reasoning. “And I don’t want to lie to him either, since I’m hoping this is the start of something between us, and nothing should ever be built on a lie. Secrets and lies breed mistrust - another life lesson learned courtesy of my ex.”

“It’s fine, Harry. You’re fine. Shoot Louis a text that I’ve taken you shopping with me. It’s not exactly a lie, since we are together and we are shopping. It will give the impression that it was my idea to go out, not yours, without actually saying it. I do still need some gifts, anyway, for Pezza and Jade, so you can help me find those, as well.” 

“If I have a shopping tote, he’ll ask who it’s for. He’s shown me everything he’s bought for his family, not sharing my purchases would seem odd, wouldn’t it?”

“Then I’ll take whatever we find home, and wrap it for you. But, Hazza, love, you do realize that there are some secrets its okay to have, right? Good secrets are the ones that don’t harm anyone, and are used as subterfuge to bring someone else happiness. This is a good secret, honest.”  

Harry nodded in agreement and sent the text, laughing at the reply. 

“I’ll take that hug now. That way when we find the gift, I’ll get an extra one.” 

Harry laughed again, wrapping his lanky arms around his friend and rocking her side to side. “Okay, then - back to shopping. Any other suggestions?” 

“What about something personal? A jumper maybe, in a color he likes - or,” she paused for dramatic affect, then added with a sly wink, “one you like on him?”

“No. His closet is disgustingly packed now, and his work attire is very specific. We don’t go out enough to justify adding one more article of clothing to that disaster.” 

“We?” Jesy’s elegantly arched eyebrow lifted at Harry’s inadvertent choice of pronouns.  “Hmmmm. So no jumper, then. What about cologne? It’s something people always use up, so it needs to be replaced. Do you know what brand he wears?” 

 Harry’s brain derailed, all cognizant thought fleeing under the weight of the overwhelming memory of the scent of Louis’ shampoo and shower gel, and what he come to mentally refer to as 'The Incident'. Harry stammered over a quick no, whilst a deep blush suffused his face.  

“Interesting response there, Hazza. Something you’d like to share?”

“No. Absolutely not. It’s uhmm… just… yeah… no.” 

“You sure, love? Confession is good for the soul and all that.” Harry vehemently shook his head, lips pressed tightly together.  “It must be pretty damn juicy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person turn quite that shade of red, even after a day on the beach in Ibiza in July.  Caught you sniffing his laundry, then, did he?”

“I … what? No!” Harry whipped his head to look at Jesy when her reply hit a little too close to reality. Panicked and inattentive, he failed to see the tent support pole driven into the ground in front of him. He tripped over his own feet trying to avoid it, and narrowly avoided busting his arse in front of God and country by hitching his arm around the offending structure. 

Desperate for a distraction, both from the conversation and his clumsiness, he cast his eyes around the square, looking for something, anything, to derail the direction things had taken, before that particular train sped off the tracks. 

“Hey, isn’t that the place we found your mum’s gift?” Harry pointed a few yards ahead of them toward a pavilion that resembled the one they’d visited on Saturday. “It is, right?” Harry took hold of Jesy’s elbow and tugged her along with him, words spilling from his lips in a babbling stream designed to keep Jesy from getting a word in edgewise. “Let’s go have a look in there. I remember Louis liked a lot of the different baubles they had on display.” 

He released her arm the minute they stepped into the pavilion. He’d been so unsettled after the encounter with Aiden the previous Saturday that he’d not really grasped all the vendor had to offer. Now, he took the time to look around, turning in a slow circle, mesmerized by the hundreds upon thousands of options on display around him. Ornaments twirled on display stands, hung in disorderly clusters on display racks, sparkled in the twinkling lights of the many trees that filled the center of the room and hid in corners, just waiting to entice shoppers with the various themes highlighted on their bountiful boughs. 

A tree dressed like a Man U fan’s fantasy drew his attention and Harry walked over to it. He admired several of the decorations, then promptly dismissed them. While Louis would love them, they lacked the depth of emotion Harry wanted to convey with his gift. 

Another tree winked at him from the corner, the limbs draped in rainbow streaks of glass droplets. Thinking it nothing more than a trick of the reflection from the tree lights, Harry was delighted to discover that the vibrant swath of color had been created within each individual droplet. He delicately teased his fingers over them, drawing one from a branch that contained a shade of blue the exact shade of Louis’ eyes. He gazed in wonder as a series of drops lifted away from the tree, each on a filament fine as gossamer and hanging from a center loop in a swirled cascade, each droplet sitting just a smidge lower than the one before it. 

“It’s lovely, Jesy murmured, her chin resting on his shoulder. “But a teardrop? Are you sure?”

“Not a tear.” Harry lifted the ornament higher, out of the gleam of its companions, and allowed it hang free from his fingers to dance on it’s own. “Rain.” 

“Rain? Am I missing something?” 

Harry turned to regard his friend, her perplexed expression almost as amusing as the depth of her confusion. He often got lost in his own head and  tended to forget that not everyone else perceived things in quite the same way. Louis did, though. He just… knew Harry in ways no one else ever had. 

Harry gathered his thoughts and attempted to find the words to explain. “Do you have a favorite type of rain? Like… some people enjoy thunderstorms - the fury and power, the crashing thunder, the angry streaks of lightning, the rain absolutely dumping buckets.” Jesy nodded slowly, and Harry pressed on. “My mum likes summer rain and the way the cut grass and concrete smell when the rain hits it. She says it’s like a renewal - everything fresh and clean afterward.” Jesy nodded again. Harry looked away and focused his attention on the ornament he still held suspended from his fingers. 

“I love a soft mist. When the sky is heavy and dove grey? The rain almost transparent, but you feel it glossing over your skin, like a secret kiss?  And it hangs in the air like a veil- not really falling, just.. there. It feels like you could almost hide away from the world in it’s clandestine raiments.” He let the words flow, hoping Jesy would understand where he was headed. 

“And after, when you’re finally home and can strip away the remnants of the mist? That cozy feeling  of snuggling close with someone under a blanket, a steaming cuppa cradled in your hands? Heads tilted together, words whispered, shared, of dreams and plans? Of the past; the present; the future?  It’s the same feeling I have when I look at Louis. That’s my kind of rain. He’s my kind of rain.”

He finally glanced back to his friend, and started. Her eyes shimmered, the faint sheen of tears a stark contrast to the wonderment that filled them. 

“That’s…” Jesy released a deep breath. “Wow.” 

“Yeah.” Harry shrugged sheepishly. 

“Remind me to punch Chris when I see him - or have you train him in romance. ’Cause that was… a lot.” 

Harry fidgeted and turned his attention to settling the ornament carefully in the palm of his hand. It was then he noticed the one Jesy held. 

“Whatcha got?” 

“Oh. Uhmmmm.” She held it up and shrugged. “It was a suggestion for Louis’ gift, but after your little speech, I think you’ve already found that.” A glass book swayed in the air, the cover open and the pages suspended in mid turn. “I saw it and remembered something you said Saturday after… well, after you ran into Aiden. It was something about having closed that chapter, and I just thought -” 

Harry interrupted, simultaneously reaching for the ornament as he handed Jesy the one in his other hand. “Louis’ my next chapter. Oh my fucking God, Jesy, that’s brilliant!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, but I mean, the raindrops… that was... ” 

“Oh, no. Let me clarify.  I’m getting both -the book to give him for the party, the other for his birthday. They’re both splendid and convey everything I’m hoping for. One gives us a start, the other promises a future.” Harry wrapped his arms around Jesy and pulled her close, careful not to drop the ornaments each of them held.  He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you Jes. For the shopping and the friendship. And for helping me sort my feelings and face my fear of opening up to Louis.” 

“Well, you’re both my friends. I just want you to be happy, and you may each be what the other one needs-” Harry raised a questioning eyebrow and she shoved his shoulder in indignation, “not - I don’t mean in a creepy co-dependent way, you arse.”  

“Well, I hope it’s in a ‘you complete me’ kind of way, without the Tom Cruise weird factor.”

“That. Exactly.” Jesy picked up a small shopping basket and settled the raindrops in it, as well as a couple others she carried. She held the basket in Harry’s direction,  and he gingerly settled the book next to the others. “Oh, and by the way - the shop owner is offering free gift wrapping for a charity donation, so no need to worry about sneaking something in the house. Put them under the tree, toward the back, and Louis will never notice them.”

∞∞∞

The friends paid for their purchases, waited on the gift wrap whilst enjoying a fresh pastry, and parted ways at the tube with quick hugs and Jesy’s promise to help with clean-up after Saturday’s party. Harry tucked the two delicate packages into his coat pocket while he waited on the platform, a sack of assorted pastries clasped firmly in his hand. Once settled on the train, he shot a quick text to see if Louis had actually ordered pizza, receiving a picture of an open box with several slices still laying in it in response. He smiled at his phone, then tapped out a quick reply. 

Harry smiled to himself. Home. He’d found home. It wasn’t a building or a place. The concept of home is an intangible. Home is a feeling, a sense of belonging, of knowing where your heart resides. And his heart rested in the unsuspecting hands of the kind, sarcastic, infuriatingly wonderful, beautiful blue-eyed dynamo he’d been fortunate enough to find and fall in love with.