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| — | — |
“I cannot believe this, Alexandra!” Harry rifles through the papers in his hand, slamming them on the tabletop when he can’t find what he’s looking for. Though he doesn’t quite know what he’s looking for. “Fine. It’s fine. I’ll tell Lou and we’ll… I guess we’ll figure it out.” Hanging up on a mobile phone is never as satisfying, still he jabs at the little red circle with a heavy sigh.
“Louis!” Harry yells, voice carrying through the house. “I’ve got to get to work! Where are you?”
“Right here,” Louis says, peeking around the refrigerator door as Harry walks into the kitchen.
“I thought you were in the shower or something. Why didn’t you answer me?”
“Knew you’d come this way eventually,” Louis says with a shrug, shutting the fridge and taking a bite out of a cold fried chicken leg. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes out his damp salt and pepper hair, hopping onto a bar stool and giving Harry his attention. “What?”
“I was just on the phone with Alexandra—”
“I heard. You’re very loud.”
“You’re loud,” Harry says petulantly.
“So what is it? They want to raise our rent? Did you tell her we want to retile the bathroom?”
“No. They aren’t raising our rent, they’re kicking us out.”
“What? They can’t do that. We have a lease.”
“Well, yes, but you know they can break it if they give us sixty days notice. They’ve decided to give the house to their grandchildren and the grandkids want it empty so they can come stay here whenever the urge hits them.”
“You’re serious,” Louis says, setting his chicken leg on the countertop. “We’ve lived here for years! That’s… That’s fucked up.”
“Very much so.”
“We have two months to find a new place?” Louis asks and Harry nods. “I hate moving.”
“We’ve lived here for nine years,” Harry says flatly. “And when you moved in, you only brought clothes.”
“Still had to unpack them, didn’t I?”
“Whatever. I have to go to work.” Harry snatches the chicken leg off the counter and takes it with him out to his car, eating it on the way. Best friends they may be, but in some ways he and Louis are so different, it’s amazing they’ve remained roommates for as long as they have. Of course, part of that is Harry’s forgiving nature. And the whole secretly being in love with Louis for a decade thing.
When they first met, they were both in relationships with other people. Harry with the man he later married and then divorced, Louis with the first of three men he dated during that same time period. They worked together for a while, back when Louis was tending bar to pay his way through law school and Harry was a sous chef, and got along well. Their similar senses of humor helped them through many long nights in the restaurant and they became fast friends. Harry was there for Louis through all of his breakups, and Louis was there for Harry as his best man at his wedding and then, when he passed the bar, as his divorce lawyer. Harry’s divorce happened to coincide with one of Louis’ breakups — the worst of the three, in Harry’s opinion, since it involved Louis being thrown out on his ass with no place to live — and they did what made sense at the time. Louis moved into the second bedroom of the house that Harry rented when he left his ex-husband, and they became roommates.
Almost a decade later and nothing much has changed. Except for Harry falling in love with Louis. They’ve both dated, though neither of them have been serious about anyone in a long, long time. Louis is always busy with his law practice and Harry is busy with the restaurant he runs, and in what precious free time they have, they do the things that make them happy. Camping in the desert, hiking in the mountains, swimming in their pool, and last winter Louis taught him how to ski.
| — | — |
They both have Sundays off. It’s been a routine for so long that Harry isn’t sure how it started. On Sundays, Harry makes omelets and pancakes and they drink coffee and eat breakfast and usually do their weekly grocery shopping. This Sunday, after they eat, Louis says, “I found an agent to take us around to some places for rent in our price range.”
“What’s our price range?” Harry asks, mainly because he isn’t interested in spending much more than they already do on rent.
“Don't worry about it,” Louis says, as if that’s an answer. But Harry lets him get away with it. If he somehow convinces Harry to sign a lease on a place that’s much more than he wants to pay, he’ll just annoy Louis until he pays more than half of the rent.
The agent’s name is Becky and while she’s very kind, she also shows them condo after condo after condo and only one house that they can afford. It doesn’t even have a pool. Harry pouts about it until Becky tells them that she has a few houses that are a bit above their price range.
“That’s the point of a price range,” Harry says, trying not to be rude, but probably not succeeding.
“Yes, Mr. Styles, but rental prices have gone up in the last few years. Now, if you were willing to buy…” she trails off and Harry huffs quietly.
Louis says, “We’ll think about it. But I’ll be honest, it doesn’t make sense for us.”
“Well, Mr. Tomlinson, have you considered the possibility of something smaller for just yourself?”
Harry gasps quietly and Louis says, “Yes, actually. I quite liked that condo with the amazing desert view.” Harry’s eyes go wide and he has to turn away to hide the disappointment he knows is plain on his face. Of course, he assumed that one day they’d go their separate ways, that Louis would meet someone and fall in love and that would be the end. But this is all a bit too much, too soon.
“I’m not feeling well.” Harry holds his hand to his stomach and says, “Do you mind if we continue this another day?”
“Of course.” Becky nods, backing away towards her car as if Harry has the plague.
“You okay, Harry?” Louis steps closer, resting the inside of his wrist against Harry’s forehead.
“No. I think I need to lie down in the dark.”
| — | — |
Louis drives them home and Harry goes straight to his bed. He doesn’t plan to ever come out, but Louis knocks on his door around seven that evening, offering him soup and crackers and an assortment of medicines, none of which will help Harry’s heartache.
“Alright, babe?” Louis asks, settling the dinner tray on Harry’s lap, and climbing onto the other side of the bed.
“Who’s going to bring me soup if you move into that condo by yourself, Lou?” Harry tries his hardest to keep his voice light, as if he’s joking.
“Maybe you can rent the one next door,” Louis says.
“I don’t want to rent a condo.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
“But you said—”
“I only said that to make her feel like she hadn't wasted her time with us,” Louis says, and the knot in Harry’s chest relaxes. “I did email her and ask about buying.”
“Lou…”
“Just listen for a second. She has a few properties that we can afford, I think.”
“You can afford a lot more than me.”
Louis rolls his eyes and says, “Eat your soup. The houses aren’t extravagant or anything. They’re what we can afford if we combine our savings for a big down payment. It’s the only way we can do a loan as two single men.”
“Okay. I’ll look at them, but I’m not promising anything.”
| — | — |
The next Sunday, Becky takes them to every house they can afford to buy. They’re all small and old and too far from the restaurant, but Harry smiles and makes nice comments about every single one.
“Becky, I hate to say this,” Louis says, sounding like he really does hate saying it. “But none of these houses are what we’re looking for.”
“I understand, Mr. Tomlinson. I do. It’s just… Well, it would be different if you were a married couple. With the combined income—”
“But we’re combining our income,” Harry says, clenching his jaw so he doesn’t say anything else.
“Yes, Mr. Styles. But that’s not the way the bank sees things. It’s a bit old fashioned, I know.” Becky shakes her head and says, “There’s a house closer to town that I’d like to show you.”
Harry doesn’t ask the price because he doesn’t want to know. The house is perfect. Everything he’s ever wanted in a house and then some. Craftsman style with a wide front porch, mature landscaping, original hardwood floors, and on and on. It’s an old home, but it’s been well taken care of and has been recently updated. There’s not a single thing he’d change about it. It even has a pool. And there’s no way they can afford it.
They’re both silent on the way home. Harry chews his lip until it bleeds and Louis doesn’t tell him to stop, which means his mind is completely occupied. They don’t speak about it all week. It’s the oddest thing. Harry doesn’t know what to say because he can’t stop thinking about that house, but he knows it’s out of reach. Louis makes small talk about divorce law which is honestly the most boring thing, but Harry listens to everything he says anyway. They watch TV and read books and swim in their pool and don’t talk about the countdown hanging over their heads.
| — | — |
Sunday morning, Harry makes omelets and pancakes and they drink coffee while they eat breakfast.
Louis takes their dishes to the sink and says, “What if we got married?”
“What?” Harry tugs on his ear lobe, sure he misheard him.
“For the house! I know you love that house and I do too. It’s perfect! We could get married and then the mortgage would be no problem. The bank wouldn’t bat an eye.”
Harry stares at him, unblinking, then firmly says, “No.”
Legs trembling under his weight, Harry walks to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He flops onto his bed, but can’t even get started on a good cry before Louis knocks.
“Harry? I’m sorry,” Louis says through the door. “Can I come in?”
Harry groans into his pillow and rolls onto his back. “Might as well.”
Louis cracks open the door. “Sorry. I was being stupid.”
“Yeah, you were,” Harry agrees.
“We’ll find something,” Louis reassures him, sitting on the edge of the bed and combing Harry’s thinning hair back off his head.
“Maybe you should get that condo,” Harry says, though he’s not sure why. Something about Louis’ flippant proposal has him thinking about the future in a more realistic way. They can’t be roommates forever. They’re in their forties, for fuck’s sake.
“You think?”
“Yeah, I mean, it might be easier. And I can probably find something smaller for just me.”
“You don’t want to live with me anymore?” Louis asks, and Harry wonders why he seems surprised.
“It’s not that, Lou. It’s…” Harry sighs heavily and says, “Neither of us have dated anyone seriously in years. And I think as long as we’re living together, we won’t.”
“Oh, um… Okay.” Louis stands and says, “I’ll call Becky. See if that condo’s still available.”
Harry nods as Louis closes the door. He could rent another condo in that building, but that would just be embarrassing. As soon as Louis started seeing someone seriously, Harry would have to move. Honestly, he’s surprised this hasn’t already been an issue.
| — | — |
Over the next few days, Harry does a lot of thinking. He considers leaving his job and leaving town, but he loves it there, and executive chef jobs that pay well aren’t exactly easy to come by. He considers signing up for a dating app, but he’s not ready, and he thinks he’ll revisit the idea after he’s found a place to live. That’s the most pressing issue at the moment. He and Louis don’t spend their free time together the way they always have. Louis is too busy with work and with Becky and whatever else he doesn’t talk to Harry about.
| — | — |
On Sunday, Harry doesn’t make omelets or pancakes. He stays in bed, scrolling through rental listings on his laptop, but not really looking at them. None of them include a Louis, which is what he really wants. About an hour after he usually gets up, he forces himself out of bed and into the shower. In the kitchen, he finds Louis eating toast.
“Hi,” Harry says, because it’s become an unexpected thing over the last week, seeing Louis like this.
“Hi, um… I’m meeting Becky later.”
“Finally signing the lease on that condo?” Harry asks, even though he doesn’t really want to know.
“No, actually, I’m thinking of buying. Not sure if I want a condo, to be honest.” Louis tosses his half-eaten piece of toast in the trash. “You could come, if you want.”
Harry shakes his head and lies, “I’ve got some places to check out myself.”
After Louis leaves, Harry goes back to bed. He wallows in self pity for an hour or so and then decides he might as well wallow in the pool, since he only has a few more weeks before he won’t be able to swim in it anymore.
Louis comes home late that afternoon with a smile on his face. “Hey, did you find a new place today?”
“Nope,” Harry says, barely turning his head to answer. He stares at the television, hoping Louis will get the hint and leave him alone.
“You have plans or something?” Louis asks, leaning over the back of the couch. Harry shakes his head. “Will you come with me somewhere? I want to show you the place I’m thinking about buying.”
Sighing quietly, Harry pushes himself up off the couch and goes to find his shoes. It’s not a long drive, but Harry keeps his gaze focused out the passenger window so he doesn’t accidentally look at Louis. Everything on the side of the street looks familiar, but he’s lived there more than half his life at this point, so the whole city looks familiar in one way or another. It’s not until they pull into the driveway that he realizes where they are.
“Are you serious?” Harry asks, rubbing his eyes. He climbs out of the car and slams the door, stalking up to the wide front porch of the Craftsman home he fell in love with. Spinning around, he works to keep his voice level. “You’re thinking about buying this house by yourself?”
“Yeah,” Louis answers with a crooked grin.
“Wow… Okay, um… I’d like to go home now.” Harry hurries down the stairs to get back in the car, reaching over to honk the horn when Louis doesn’t follow. As soon as he does that, Louis bounds down the stairs to the car.
“Jesus, Harry, don’t do that. My neighbors will have a bad impression before I even buy the place.”
“I can’t believe you’re… Just take me home,” Harry insists, crossing his arms and looking out the window again to watch the other side of the road on the drive back. It’s the most tense and uncomfortable he’s ever been around Louis and he wonders how quickly Louis will be able to buy the house and move out or if he’ll be able to find something on his own before that. Maybe he can get a hotel room.
The second Louis puts the car in park, Harry hops out and rushes inside, going straight to his bedroom and pulling his suitcase out of his closet. He knows he’s being dramatic, but he’s past the point of caring.
“What are you doing?” Louis asks from the doorway.
“Leaving.” Harry bites his lip hard to hold back a sob.
“Harry, are you…” Louis lays a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t… Don’t touch me. Don’t call me that. Just… don’t.” Harry shrugs Louis’ hand off his shoulder and turns to face him. “You know how much I love that house, Louis. And you’re just going to buy it anyway? So I can, what? Visit sometimes?”
“I…” Louis frowns and scratches his chin, which Harry hates because it draws attention to his scruffy weekend beard, which is one of the millions of things Harry loves about him.
“I mean… You’re already taking you away from me.” Harry slams his suitcase shut and it bounces back open, so he pushes it closed again and fights with the zipper.
“Harry, what are—”
Giving up on the zipper, Harry growls, running his fingers through his hair. “I am leaving. I’m going to stay in a hotel or something. I’ll sleep in my car if I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m mad at you, you asshole!”
Louis widens his stance and crosses his arms and yells, “What the hell did I do?”
“You’re leaving me! And you don’t even care! I’m losing my mind because I have to find a place to live alone and the man I love is moving out and moving on like it’s nothing!” Finally, he gets the suitcase zipped and grabs the handle, pushing past Louis who’s just standing there, gaping at him. After checking that he has his wallet and phone, Harry grabs his keys, and heads for the front door.
“Harry Styles, stop being an idiot!” Louis shouts from the end of the hallway. Harry flips him off without turning around, trying to open the door with his shaking hand while not dropping any of his things.
Harry gets the doorknob to turn just as Louis snatches his suitcase out of his hand. “Give that back.”
With the suitcase behind his back, Louis shakes his head. “I asked you to marry me and you told me no.”
“Of course I did! I don’t want to be your husband!” Harry darts a hand around Louis’ side, grabbing for the suitcase, but Louis is too fast for him.
“But you love me?”
“What?” Harry asks, voice shrill. “What are you talking about? I do not.”
“You just said—” Louis points down the hallway and says, “You just said ‘the man I love is moving out’ and I—”
“I did not.”
“You didn’t?” Louis drops the suitcase.
“No, I—” Harry eyes go wide as he recalls his exact words. “Oh… Oh, god. Oh, no.” Fumbling to get the suitcase off the floor, Harry squeezes his eyes closed, refusing to cry and make things worse.
“Harry?”
Blinking furiously, Harry stands to face him, but finds Louis watching him with tears in his eyes. “Lou?”
“Did you mean it?” Louis asks softly, and Harry nods, too afraid to speak. “You love me too?”
“Too?” Harry squeaks.
“Yes, too! God, Harry, I’ve always been in love with you.”
“Always?” Harry clutches a hand to his chest.
Louis steps up close and takes the suitcase from Harry’s hand, setting it on the floor. He nods and says, “I don’t ask just anyone to marry me, you know.”
Scowling, Harry says, “You only asked because of the house.”
“I can afford that house by myself.” Louis raises one eyebrow and says, “I thought, if you said yes, I’d have the courage to tell you the truth. But then you said no.”
“I thought…”
“I know. I’m sorry. I went back to look at the house with Becky and… It was stupid of me, but I thought if I bought the house, you’d agree to move in with me. And I figured I’d have to argue with you about rent or something, but at least… At least I’d still have you with me. I’m sorry.”
“That was, um… sneaky.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I really am.” Louis sighs and says, “I’ll let Becky know I’m not buying it.”
“Don’t do that.” Harry reaches for Louis’ hands. “Marry me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, very. I love you. Apparently, you love me. And we both love that house.” Harry shrugs and squeezes Louis’ hands, stepping closer and letting go to wrap his arms around Louis’ shoulders. “We don’t have to get married now, but I’ll want to eventually. Is that okay?”
Louis rests his hands on Harry’s hips, then slides them around to the small of his back. “You haven’t even kissed me. What if I’m a horrible kisser?”
“Please,” Harry says and rolls his eyes. “But also, could you kiss me so I can find out?”
Nudging their noses together, Louis whispers, “I love you.”
It’s a perfect first kiss. Soft and sweet and everything Harry could have dreamed of. He’ll have to send their landlord a thank-you note.