Archive of Our Own

“Say that again,” Niall wheezes. His laughter echoes off the walls of his empty apartment, and Harry kicks him in the shins under the table. 

“Shut up. I’m being sweet and a good -” He stops himself from saying the word. 

The b-word. 

Boyfriend.

It’s a sore point for him and Bryan. 

“Let me get this straight. You want to take horseback-riding lessons just because your not-boyfriend is an - what do you even call that? Rider?” Niall asks, still grinning widely. 

“ Equestrian ,” he corrects him, and pushes a curl out of his face, a flush crawling up his neck and onto his cheeks. “And yes. I just want to know what he’s talking about.” 

Bryan is not actually an equestrian, but he was at one point. Now he’s working at some sort of management company that organizes competitions.

“I’m still not convinced that that’s a real job,” he huffs out. “Who even pays others for sitting on a horse all day?” 

Harry looks around the apartment for a second, lets his gaze glide over the cartons and boxes, the suitcases in the entryway, and the rolled up carpet leaning against the living room wall before he answers, “It’s like any other sport, Niall. There are sponsors and competitions and -” 

“Yes, yes, no need to get so offended. Why don’t you just ask him to teach you? He used to ride all the time when he was a kid, right?” 

Niall’s old place was flooded after an old pipe broke, and after two weeks of crashing on Harry’s tiny couch, he finally moved into a new flat. 

“It’s a surprise,” Harry mumbles and starts gathering their paper plates and plastic cutlery that are left on the table from lunch. 

The truth is that he doesn’t want to ask Bryan. Even if he wanted to teach him, patience isn’t his strongest character trait. Judging by Harry’s history with sports, he doubts that he’d be a natural at horseback riding (even though it just can’t be that hard) and he doesn’t want to deal with Bryan’s badly hidden annoyance and frustration because he can’t get it right. 

He can’t tell Niall that, though, he would just look at him with that weird look . Like he pities him, or like he knows something that Harry doesn’t. 

Like the time Bryan stood him up for an hour and apologized without explaining why it happened. Or when it happened again two weeks later. 

Harry hates that look. 

It makes him feel inferior, as if he’s missing out on the joke or has a ‘kick me’ sign stuck on his back, and it’s not a great feeling. 

So he doesn’t tell Niall, just lies, and puts the plates into the trash with a tad too much force. 

“I’ll help you find someone who can teach you,” Niall sighs and gets up to help him. 

“Thanks. I think I’d probably find something if I just google, though.” 

*

And that is how Harry ended up here, pebbles crunching under the soles of his shoes. 

Last night, he debated whether he should go through Bryan’s closet while he was in the shower to find something to wear, but decided against it. In the end, he might have noticed and Harry wouldn’t have known how to explain himself. 

So now he’s just in jeans and a white shirt and wearing chelsea boots, guessing that that’s probably a safe option. 

The stables he found online seem even huger in real life, with bright white wood panelling and dark green frames outlining doors and windows, and he can hear horses neighing and shuffling in their boxes. 

There’s a horseshoe-shaped stable to his left, and he spots a girl guiding her horse onto the outside riding grounds behind it. The green meadows are separated into paddocks and range land and whatnot by white fences - to be honest, Harry doesn’t know the tiniest bit about horses or stables. 

There’s a sign pointing to the main building, telling him that the office is in there. He locks his car behind him, and walks into the house. It’s white as well, and looks like something out of a movie. 

The size resembles a mansion, and the stairs leading to the entry are out of arenite. Inside, the ceilings are high and the floors are made of wooden parquet. 

It’s definitely not what Harry expected. Well, it’s not like he knew what to expect, but it definitely didn’t look like this. 

He’s still gaping around when a woman comes into the entryway, stopping in her tracks when she spots him. 

“Hello there, can I help you?” she asks, her voice friendly and warm. 

Harry clears his throat, “Uhm, yeah. I- I booked a private lesson? For beginners?” 

Suddenly, he feels very stupid. And small. Small and stupid. He’s in his twenties, and no one that age in their right mind decides to start horseback riding of all things. 

The woman in front of him seems not to notice his internal crisis, or simply chooses to ignore it, and nods curtly, “Okay, let me check that on the computer for you real quick. What did you say your name was?” 

She turns his back to him and walks into a room to their left, where a metal sign next to the door says ‘Office’.

“Harry Styles,” he replies, following her. When she sits down behind a desk, eyes scanning the screen in front of her, he notices that she’s wearing black breeches and a checkered flannel, and she just looks slightly out of place for this weirdly clean and posh house. 

“Got it. I’ll bring you to the stables. My son Louis will be your instructor. Actually, I think you might be around his age,” she says, and Harry’s heart sinks a little. 

This is going to be embarrassing. 

“I’m Johannah by the way.” 

The stables are intimidating, to say the least. The horses are big, way too big for Harry’s liking, and he flinches every time one of them kicks the door of their box or whinnies. 

“Lottie, have you seen your brother? He’s supposed to give a lesson right now,” Johanna says to a blonde girl after they’ve walked down a corridor of boxes. 

She’s standing next to a grey horse in its box, caressing its ears. The horse is taller than her, and if Harry were her, he’d keep out a look for its hooves. 

“He’s in the old arena, showing off to the girls,” Lottie says without looking up, but there’s a sharp undertone in her voice. 

“That boy, I swear to God. I’m sorry Harry, I’ll go and get him. Lottie, could you please show Harry here around a little?” 

Lottie sighs, but smiles politely and slips out of the box, but not without pressing a kiss to the forehead of the horse. 

Is that even what you call it? 

For the amount of time Harry has listened to Bryan talk about horse-related things, he knows very little about those animals. 

By the time Harry knows where the feed and track rooms are, and what a wash box is, and where they store their hay, he can hear distant chatter and the sound of hooves on stone ground approach. 

When he looks up from where Lottie had been explaining how to tie a rope properly, he sees a rather small guy walking down the corridor, flanked by two girls. They are probably around the age of seventeen or eighteen, long hair tied into whipping ponytails and their voices carry over the noises of the stable. 

What catches Harry’s attention most, though, is the guy in the middle. Johanna had been right, he might be his age. He’s in navy riding breeches that fit smugly and a white polo shirt, and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t the tiniest bit attracted to this guy. 

Louis, at least he assumes that this is him, is guiding a massive black horse by its reins, in his other hand is a helmet and a crop, and his fringe is sticking to his forehead. 

As soon as he realizes he’s staring too much, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a step back, accidentally bumping into Lottie behind him. 

“Oops, sorry,” he apologizes, heat rising up his neck. 

His voice seems to catch Louis’ attention, and his conversation with the two girls ceases as he stops walking. His horse snorts impatiently. 

“Louis, how nice of you to finally show up,” Lottie says sharply, giving her brother a deathly glare before he waves Harry goodbye and disappears down the hallway.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I lost track of time,” Louis apologizes in Harry’s direction, but he doesn’t really look the part. 

“Sarah, would you mind unsaddling Domino for me?” He says to one of the girls who nods eagerly and takes the reins from his gloved hand. 

The girls disappear into the same direction as Lottie did seconds before, and Harry feels awkwardly aware of the way he’s standing is not so sure where he’s supposed to put his hands. 

God, who made him like this. 

“My mother said you’re here for a beginner’s lesson, right?” Louis asks, and Harry nods. 

“Have you ever been horseback riding?” he continues as he starts walking down the corridor, and Harry just trails after him like a lost puppy. At least that’s what he feels like. 

“Uhm. Not really? Maybe when I was about five?” 

“Why are you starting now?” Louis asks, stopping in front of a box. 

A chestnut horse is in it, and the name tag reads ‘Fiona’. 

It’s once again way too tall for Harry’s liking. It’s not that he’s scared of heights, or of horses, but if he were to fall down, he’d rather fall from a smaller horse than this one. It’s still smaller than the one Louis just brought back into the stable, but big enough for Harry. 

“You don’t happen to have smaller horses, do you?” Harry says, watching hesitantly as Louis puts a halter on the horse and hooks a rope through one of the loops. 

“Don’t worry, Fiona is a saint. She’s an American Quarter and fifteen, she’s seen her fair share of things. She’s probably one of our best horses for beginners, aren’t you, sweetie?” Louis says, directing the last sentence to the horse. 

Harry’s still not convinced, but follows Louis either way. 

*

“So, how did your riding lesson go?” Niall asks, voice smug. 

Harry groans into his phone, “Don’t even ask. My legs are totally sore and I had to shampoo my hair three times to get the smell out.”

“You poor, poor thing,” he gets a snort in response. 

“Honestly, I don’t know how Bryan does it every time,” Harry says, signaling left and passing a green light. 

Niall lets out a grunt before he says, “Are you going to continue the lessons?” 

“I have one booked for later this week, but I’m not sure how long I’ll last. I realized I’m not really into horses. And the instructor was giving off weird energy,” Harry replies with a shrug. 

“Weird energy how?” 

“First of all, he was more than ten minutes late. And then he was - well, not really conceited, but a little cocky, maybe? I don’t know.” 

“Maybe that’s just the thing with - what are they called again? Equestrians? They’re probably just all cocky,” Niall says nonchalantly. 

“I know what you’re doing, Ni. Bryan is not cocky, okay?” 

“Whatever you say,” he mumbles, and Harry knows damn well that Niall does think Bryan is cocky. 

He hasn’t even met Bryan. 

“Anyway,” Harry sighs, “I need to hang up. I’m in front of Bryan’s house.” 

“Oh, he’s back in town? I thought you said he was in Sheffield or something.” 

“He just got back this afternoon. Talk to you later, okay?” Harry asks, already getting out of his car. 

“Sure. Tell Bryan I said hi.” 

Niall knows that Harry won’t tell him that, but they don’t talk about that. 

Instead, he hums in agreement, then hangs up and stuffs his phone into the back pocket of his jeans before ringing the doorbell. 

“Harry, hi,” Bryan says when he opens the door. 

“Hi,” he replies and squeezes past him into the hallway, but not without pressing a kiss to Bryan’s cheek. 

“I thought we could order burgers for dinner,” Bryan says, following Harry into the living room. 

“Oh,” he says, and tries his best to stop his heart from sinking as he sits down on the couch, pulling a pillow onto his lap. 

“What? You don’t like burgers? We can eat something different, that’s not a problem,” Bryan says, claiming his place next to Harry, their knees bumping into each other softly. 

“No, no, burgers are fine. I just thought,” he pauses for a small moment, “I thought we were going out tonight, that’s all.” 

“Let’s do that some other time. I’m knackered, I just got back a few hours ago.” 

“Yeah, right. That’s fine. ‘Was looking forward to it, ‘s all,” he mumbles and closes his eyes. 

He likes Bryan. And he could probably picture them together in the long run, if Bryan just weren’t so - honestly, Harry isn’t even sure what it is. 

Correction: He does know what it is, he just doesn’t know how to describe it in less than twenty sentences. 

It’s the lack of commitment on Bryan’s side, it’s the weird distance that sometimes appears between them, it’s the fact that Harry feels like he’s a bother to him. 

He knows he’s not doing it on purpose, that he’s only busy and stressed, but some nights, like today, it’s not as easy to ignore it. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he murmurs, scooting closer and pressing soft kisses to the skin behind Harry’s left ear, to his neck, his jawline. He lets himself relax into it, closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. 

“Okay. Burgers are fine.” 

When he wakes up the next morning, duvet pulled up to his waist and hugging a pillow to his chest, Bryan is already gone. It’s Saturday, and usually they spend at least the morning together, but today, there’s a note on the bedside table. 

Had to run to the stable, I’ll call you later.

Harry grunts and rubs the sleep out of his eyes before pushing the sheets aside and wrangling himself into his clothes. He doesn’t like spending time in Bryan’s house without him there, he always feels like he’s invading his privacy, so he slips out of the front door without breakfast. 

* 

“Keep your heels down, Harry. Yes, like that,” Louis instructs from the middle of the outside riding arena. 

The September sun is shining down on them, and Harry doesn’t feel as wobbly on Fiona’s back as last time. He’s still far from good; when they tried a trot earlier, Harry told Louis very panicked to make it stop. Definitely not his proudest moment. 

“So, tell me again why you’re taking riding lessons? No offense, but you don’t seem like the biggest fan of horses,” Louis says, eyes trained on Harry and the horse. 

“I just have a healthy amount of respect for them. They could trample me to death if they really wanted to,” Harry shrugs, and gets scolded right away, “Back straight, this isn’t your sofa, and look where you’re going. All I’m saying is that most people who want to learn how to ride a horse have usually been dreaming about it for a long time.” 

“It’s a surprise for my - friend,” Harry says quickly, choosing the same excuse as he used for Niall. It’s easier than to explain the entire thing. 

Louis shrugs and nods, apparently not interested in the story any further, and Harry can’t decide whether he should be glad about it or offended. 

“Alright, we’ve got five more minutes left. Let’s try the trot again,” Louis says after glancing at his watch. 

“No, I’m fine, thank you very much.” 

“It’ll get easier the more you do it, I promise. Back straight, relax your arms. And don’t look down, okay? Not even a glance. Now, spur her a little with your legs, but keep the balls of your feet in the stirrups. Exactly like that.”

When Fiona speeds up, Harry tries his best not to bounce around uncontrollably like earlier, but it’s not going that great. Why do people do this for fun? It’s not the least bit fun. 

“You need to relax, yeah? Your body will go along with the movements if you stop trying to stay in the saddle so hard,” Louis instructs from his side of the lunge. 

“I’m trying ,” he grunts, forcing himself to keep his posture straight and his arms relaxed. 

“That’s better,” Louis nods, and a swell of pride rises up in Harry. He’s still far from mastering the trot, but a little improvement is better than none. 

“So. That friend of yours, does she work with horses?” Louis asks when they walk back from the paddock they just brought Fiona to. 

Harry’s legs feel a little wobbly with every step, but he’s doing his best not to show it. 

“Uhm. He sort of does,” he replies, stumbling over the words. 

Louis nods, “So he’s an equestrian? Competitive?” 

“I think he used to be, he’s more into event management now, I guess. To be honest, I don’t know a lot about all of this,” Harry says, gesturing vaguely around the stables. 

“Yeah, I can tell,” Louis snorts. 

“Hey!” 

“Harry, you called Fiona’s mane her ‘hair’, you can’t fool me.” 

“It basically is hair, okay? I wasn’t technically wrong.” 

“Leave it be, Harold. You need to learn when to admit defeat,” Louis says, grinning. 

And maybe Harry was wrong about Louis. He’s not cocky. He’s actually quite nice, and a really good teacher. Last week, Harry was even scared to go near to a horse, and now he basically knows how to trot. 

He sort of wishes he could tell Bryan, but he doesn’t feel like he would understand. For him, that wouldn’t be a big deal, it’s as easy as breathing. But for Harry even staying up there is a huge achievement. 

“I gotta get to my next lesson, but I’ll see you next Friday, yeah?” Louis asks, already starting to walk into the opposite direction. 

“Sure, have fun,” Harry waves before he turns to his car. 

*

“He’s not coming,” Harry says, looking up from his phone right into Gemma’s face. 

She offers him an empathetic smile, and shrugs, “That’s fine. It was a really spontaneous idea anyway.” 

He nods, but when he takes up eating his lunch again, he stabs his potato hard enough for it to split into two even halves. 

Going shopping with Gemma is Harry’s favorite thing to do, and he’s not letting Bryan ruin it for him. Gemma is right, he only texted him an hour before lunch if he wanted to join them. It’s not his fault if he’s busy. 

“Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t want to meet you, or anyone I’m close to,” Harry says, sighing. “I can deal with him not wanting to do the entire couple thing, but we’ve been dancing around each other for months now, and it’s always one excuse after the other.” 

“I know you really don’t want to hear this, Haz, but maybe he’s just not the right person for you,” Gemma says, watching his face carefully. 

“Hm,” he grumbles, and drags a piece of meat through the sauce on his plate instead of answering. 

He knows that his family thinks that, and that Niall thinks that, but Harry just doesn’t see it that way. Sure, they struggle sometimes and aren’t on the same page on everything, but they are trying, and that’s what counts. 

“I’m not telling you what to do here, yeah? Maybe just think about it.” 

Harry nods at that, fully knowing that he will shove this into the last corner of his brain and never think about it again unless he has to. 

“Can we talk about something else?” He asks, sipping from his coke. 

“Of course.” 

Gemma starts telling him all about work, and about her cat, and about how she’s thinking about redecorating her living room next weekend. It’s nice to hear about all this stuff, and to laugh at pictures of her cat asleep on the rug in the bathroom Harry helped her pick out. 

“I started taking horseback riding lessons,” Harry tells her when they are on the way back to their cars, hands full with bags of clothes. 

“My brother doing sports? I never thought I’d see the day,” Gemma grins, bumping her shoulder into Harry’s. 

“I know, right? I totally suck but it’s somehow fun?” he says, and as he says it out loud, he realizes that’s why he’s still doing it after almost a month. 

It’s not about Bryan anymore, or proving a point to Niall, he just likes doing something for himself for once. 

“As long as you don’t break your neck doing it, I’m happy for you,” his sister replies as she loads her bags into the trunk of her car. 

“Don’t say that, I just got rid of my fear of falling,” Harry says, eyes widening dramatically. He’s not so sure whether he’s joking or being serious.

Even though Louis proved to be right and Fiona to be the most relaxed horse Harry has ever met, he still does not fancy a fall from 64 inches above the ground. 

“Can I come watch one day? I haven’t been at a stable since we went on that vacation with Grandma,” Gemma says, and Harry knows exactly what she’s talking about. 

It was the year their parents got divorced, and their grandmother took it upon herself to get them away from all the fighting and ‘bad energy’ as she had put it. They drove up to the country, and spent a week at a farm, petting dogs and feeding chicken. 

“You probably can, yeah. You’re just not allowed to laugh at me,” Harry warns her. 

“Okay, little bro. I have to get going, but we’ll talk, yeah?” she says, hugging him tight before she gets into her car. 

He watches her tail lights disappear down the road, and then walks over to his own car.

*

The next week, Harry is way too early for his lesson. 

Knowing that Louis isn’t the most punctual person either, he decides that he has enough time to wander around the grounds for a little bit. 

He still doesn’t really know its in and outs, he can only find his way around the school part of the stable and the inside training hall and the outside arena. 

Strolling around, he spots the girl that showed him around before his first lesson coming back from a hack, her cheeks flushed from the autumn air, and he waves at her as she passes him. 

Behind the stables is another building that Harry has never been in before, and it doesn’t look as polished as the other ones. Like someone forgot it even existed and just left it there. 

But he can hear noises from inside, and the door is left a bit ajar, so he decides to slip in through the crack. 

He finds himself in an indoor arena, the sandy ground spiked with hurdles of all sorts in different colors, and there’s the even sound of a hooves hitting the ground mixed with soft commands and laboured breathing. 

Harry leans against the railing, watching the horse and its rider. It looks effortless, how he’s flying over the obstacles without ever coming close to touching them. 

To be fair, Harry doesn’t know the last thing about show jumping, he doesn’t even think he watched it before, but this looks like it’s magic. No human being should be able to have so much control over an animal. It’s not even control, though. Maybe it’s more like trust, because that person obviously knows what they are doing. 

It’s only when the rider and the horse get closer to Harry he realizes it's Louis. 

Louis in white breeches and shiny boots, the short sleeves of his shirt accentuating his biceps, and in the short second Harry is able to see his face, his expression is focussed and his eyes concentrated.

It’s completely badass. 

Harry just keeps standing there, eyes trained on Louis. After a minute he realizes that it’s the horse from the first time they met, fur a shiny black with white specks across the hooves. 

Louis slows down eventually, letting his horse come to a rest. He leans forward, arms falling around the neck of the horse, almost like a hug, and suddenly Harry feels bad for watching. It seems so intimate, and Louis doesn’t even know he’s there. 

But after a second he sits up upright again, and starts heading to the entry, right where Harry is standing. His face falls when he sees him, “Fuck, am I late again?” 

“No, no, you’re good. I’m just early, that’s all,” Harry says, “I was just looking around, I hope that’s okay?” 

“Sure. This is the old arena, we don’t really use it anymore for lessons,” Louis comes to a stop next to Harry and dismounts in one fluid motion, “which means that I can just leave my stuff lying around.” 

“I don’t know shit about any of this, but you were amazing,” Harry says as they head back to the stable side by side. 

“Oh. Thanks,” Louis replies shortly, face pulled into a frown. 

Harry wonders whether he said something wrong, but then his face goes back to normal, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. 

“You ready for another round of trotting today?” 

“Definitely not,” Harry sighs. 

“C’mon, you’re not that bad.” 

Harry looks at him with a quirked eyebrow. 

“You’re getting better,” Louis corrects, and it coaxes a laugh out of Harry. “You can go get Fiona and start saddling her and all that while I get Domino into her box, yeah? I think we need to stay inside today, though. It looks like it might rain.” 

And rain it does. At one point, Harry even has trouble understanding what Louis is telling him to do because the rain is so loud on the roof, it swallows everything else. 

“This isn’t working, I’m sorry. You can get a refund for today’s lesson, but I can barely hear my own voice,” Louis says, stepping closer to Fiona. 

“Oh, no, that’s fine, I don’t need a refund. The weather isn’t your fault,” Harry says, and gets off the horse. 

It’s not even close as gracefully as Louis was earlier, but at least he landed on his own two feet this time and not on his ass. Not that that has happened before. 

By the time Harry reaches his car, he’s drenched and wet to his bones. 

Johannah opens the door to the main house, “If I were you I’d wait it out before driving back into the city! The roads always get flooded in the woods!” she yells over the rainstorm. The same second, a roll of thunder crashes over them. 

Harry decides in a split second that he’d rather not drive during an apocalypse, and sprints towards the entry. 

“Just leave your shoes at the door, honey. I’ll get you a cup of tea and a towel for your hair, one second,” she says, leading Harry into a big kitchen. 

It’s more of a common room he realizes when he sits down at a dining table that could easily fit a group of twelve. There’s a couch as well, and a bookshelf and a TV. 

“We use this kitchen for holiday guests during the summer and for staff meetings,” Johannah explains, roaming around to get the kettle going. 

“It’s really nice,” Harry says. 

“Thank you. There you go, if you need anything else, I’ll be in the office,” she says, handing him a mug and a white towel. 

“Thank you so much,” Harry thanks her.

He spends about ten minutes staring out of the window, the lights of the stable illuminating the grey weather, waiting for the rain to stop. It doesn’t. It only gets worse. 

“Mum? Liam just called, the main road is blocked by a tree,” Louis yells into the house, the sound of rain hitting the ground wafting inside along with his voice, and when Harry peeks out of the kitchen, he’s standing in the entryway, completely drenched as. 

“Jesus Christ, not again,” Johannah’s voice replies. “I’ll call him, they’ve got to get it out of the way as soon as possible.” 

“Oh, you’re still here,” Louis says when he sees Harry. 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Your mother told me to wait out the rain.” 

“Smart move. Being in here is better than on the road, not able to get through because of the tree,” Louis says with a nod. “I’m going to go shower, but I’ll be back down in a second.

When Louis reappears twenty minutes later, he’s in a tracksuit and socked feet, and he looks completely different from the Louis he saw earlier in the old arena. Softer around the edges, like the rain blurred the lines. 

“Is that you in that picture?” Harry asks, pointing to a photograph that’s hung up on the wall. It’s a younger version of him, maybe in his teens, but the resemblance is there. The same blue eyes, the fringe, the smile that makes his eyes crinkle. The cute button nose. 

He’s on the shoulders of two men, holding up a trophy, and on his face a grin so big, it might split it in two. 

“Yeah, that’s me. I think I was fourteen or fifteen. That was a great year,” Louis says, a fond smile on his lips as he steps closer to inspect the picture. His face is overshadowed by memories, Harry can see it by the way he seems a little more distant, a little distracted from the real world. 

“Yeah?”

He hums in agreement, “I won nationals that year. And our team made second place in another cup a few months later.” 

“Wait, hold on. You were the national champion in showjumping?” Harry asks, eyes wide.

It would explain what he saw in the old arena earlier.  

“It’s not that big of a deal, it was ages ago,” Louis says, shrugging, “I don’t like bragging about it.” 

“Why not?” 

“Just - I stopped competing a few years after that,” he sighs, and sits down next to Harry at the table. 

“Did you get hurt?” 

“You sure ask a lot of questions,” Louis huffs, “I didn’t get hurt. Didn’t make the team anymore.” 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, I’m-” Harry scrambles, but Louis shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I like what I’m doing now better anyway,” he says with a shrug. 

Harry nods, but keeps his eyes on the picture of Louis. 

He’s never been into sports, and he doesn’t feel like he missed out on something, at least for the most part. But when he looks at pictures like this one, it hits him how he never had a moment like that. 

He was never the best at anything, is the thing. He’s always been mediocre at everything, but never excelled in one specific department. Sometimes, like right now, he wishes he was, so he could understand what it feels like to have that moment. 

To be able to say, ‘Hey, I did it.’ 

“Harry?” 

“What? I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening,” he mumbles, forcing himself to look at Louis directly. 

He’s sitting on the corner seat, knees pulled up to his chest and his chin resting on his left leg. He laughs a little, pushes his fringe out of his eyes, “I noticed. I asked what you do for a living.” 

“Oh. I’m an actuary for an insurance company. You know, I calculate risks and financial outcomes for them, stuff like that,” he replies. 

“D’you like it?” 

“Yes, I love it. I know it sounds absolutely boring, but it’s so fascinating. Like, you get to walk into a meeting and explain to the executives what they should do, and where they should invest. And they’re like, yeah, cool, we’ll do that,” he stops himself and bites down on his lip, “I’m sorry, it’s not that interesting. Definitely can’t keep up with all of this,” he gestures around the room. 

“Don’t be stupid, Harry. What matters is that you’re happy with your job, yeah? And it sounds like you genuinely are. Everyone who tells you that it’s quote-unquote ‘boring’ is too full of themselves,” Louis says, shaking his head. 

“Thanks,” Harry says. 

It hits him that he’s never thought about it like that. It feels weird to have someone who doesn’t know the first thing about him point out something like this, something that hits this close to home. 

Talking to Louis is weirdly intense, Harry realizes over the course of the evening. He’s smart and always has a witty reply at the tip of his tongue, and his laugh is infectious, and he seems to have strong opinions about everything. Whether that’s pineapple on pizza, or who’s the best spider-man, or if the school system is fair. 

Louis is like a whirlwind of colors in Harry’s brain, leaving yellow and blue and green and red stains everywhere, painting over his previous thoughts and creating entirely new ones. 

Johannah eventually invites him and three other girls that got stranded because of the storm to stay for dinner, and they eat casserole at the big table with Lottie, Louis, and her. They mostly talk about upcoming competitions or other horse-related stuff Harry doesn’t really bother listening to, he won’t understand a word either way. 

“Liam just texted, the road is clear again. You should be good to go,” Louis says a while later. There’s a reality show playing on the TV, but Harry dozed off at the beginning of the latest episode. 

“The girls are staying overnight because their parents don’t want to drive out all the way this late. You could have a guest room as well, if you’d like.” 

Harry yawns, then gets to his feet, “No, I think I’m good. But thank you for the offer.” 

“Okay, well. Drive safe, yeah?” Louis says, looking at him with a soft smile. 

“I will, thanks,” Harry says, and he can feel a flush creeping up his neck. “And say thanks to Johannah from me, yeah? It’s so nice that she let me stay.” 

Louis nods, and watches from the door as Harry walks to his car. 

When he gets there, he realizes he left his phone in there for the entire day. There are five texts from Gemma, two from Niall and a missed call from his mother. 

Nothing from Bryan. 

*

“Hey, uhm. I have this work thing coming up,” Bryan says over dinner a few days later. 

“Okay?” Harry asks, preparing himself to hear Bryan cancel one of their plans.

“It’s really boring, a lot of business stuff. But you could come with me if you wanted to,” he says, shrugging. 

“Oh,” Harry exhales in relief. “Is it like a plus one situation?” 

“I guess so? They asked me if I wanted to bring someone, and, you know, I couldn’t make it to that dinner with your family, so…” 

That dinner with his family.

He almost forgot about that. 

Two weeks ago, they had a huge fight over Bryan cancelling on Harry last minute for a dinner they had planned for weeks, and it brought back the never ending discussion over are-we-a-couple-or-not . 

Harry wants to be. He’s sick of swimming in this lake of uncertainty and insecurity, but Bryan keeps on insisting that ‘he’s not the guy for a serious relationship’. Whatever that is supposed to mean. 

“So you’re bringing me along so I can’t be mad at you anymore?” Harry asks, frowning. 

“Don’t twist my words, Harry,” Bryan sighs, “I’m just trying to be the person that you want me to be. I know this stuff makes you happy, so take it, yeah?” 

“I’m not- If you don’t want me to come, you shouldn’t have asked.” 

“But I want you to , why are you being so complicated right now?” 

“Stop. I can’t fight over this again. We can go together, I’d be happy to,” Harry sighs, searching for Bryan’s gaze until their eyes lock. 

“Okay,” he says softly, smiling. “I’ll pick you up at seven on Friday.” 

*

“If it isn’t my favorite student,” someone sits down on the chair next to Harry, bumping their shoulders together. 

When he looks up from his drink, he sees Louis, tie hanging loosely on his neck and the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone. 

Every new version of Louis seems to knock the air out of Harry’s lungs. Louis being a total badass at showjumping. Opinionated Louis in a tracksuit in the kitchen. Louis in a suit at a dinner party, apparently.

“Oh, I’m your favorite?” Harry shoots back, the liquor in his veins making him bolder and less self-conscious than usually. 

Louis seems to notice as well, his eyebrows quirk up in surprise for a second. 

“Maybe. What brings you here? Your friend ?” He asks, looking around. 

“How’d you figure?” 

“One, you said you’re only taking lessons because of him. Two, this entire thing is for the summer regionals next year, why would you, a person who knows nothing about horses, be here? Three, you look bored as hell.”

“That obvious?” Harry snorts. 

He actually had a quite decent night with Bryan. He picked him up, and complimented his suit and said all the right things throughout dinner, and didn’t correct the lady next to Harry when she called him Bryan’s boyfriend. They had wine, red and white, and there’d been a warm hand on Harry’s thigh for the entire evening. 

And then Bryan had to go and talk to someone about something, leaving Harry alone at the table. 

Which was twenty minutes ago. Not that he’s counting. 

“So, who’s your friend?” Louis asks, still searching the faces in the restaurant that was rented out for this particular evening. 

“Bryan’s over there,” Harry says, nodding in his direction. 

“No way,” Louis huffs out a laugh, “There’s no way you’re dating Bryan Laughlin.”

“And what if I am?” Harry asks challengingly, glaring at him over the brim of the wine glass in his hands. 

Louis bites down on his lip like he’s still thinking about what he should say next. 

“What? ” Harry asks, a giggle slipping out as well. 

“Oh my God, this is so weird,” he laughs, “Bryan and I went to boarding school together.” 

“So you know each other,” Harry says, not so sure what Louis’ problem is with all of this. 

“Let’s just say that there aren’t that many gay guys at a boarding school for competetive riding,” Louis admits, watching Harry’s face closely and biting back his grin. 

He just blinks at him. 

“You’re not being serious.” 

“I wish I wasn’t,” he bursts out with laughter, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. 

“No, stop. Louis,” Harry whines, “You can’t be telling me that you and Bryan - who I am dating , may I add - had a thing when you were, what? Thirteen?” 

“Fourteen,” Louis winces, but he’s still grinning. 

What a piece of shit. 

“Just a couple of snogs behind the stable, and a single hand job if I remember correctly, but-” 

“Louis! Stop! I don’t want to hear any of this,” Harry interrupts him, but his voice breaks into a giggle halfway through his sentence. Who let him drink this much wine? 

“I can’t believe you’re dating Bryan, oh my God,” Louis sinks back in his chair, looking at Harry in disbelief. 

“What now?” 

“He’s just- No offense, Harry, but he’s not exactly boyfriend material.”

Harry frowns in response, “And you’re basing this off the fourteen year old you knew ten years ago?” 

“I still know him, H.” 

Harry’s so taken aback by all of this, he almost misses the nickname slipping out of Louis’ mouth. H. 

“So what? He might not be perfect, okay? But who is? I didn’t know my relationships were any of your business,” he snaps back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. But then he remembers that it makes him look like a pouting toddler, so he lets the fall down to his sides again. 

“I’m just saying. From what I heard, his track record isn’t that great,” Louis shrugs. 

“How do you know mine is?” 

“I don’t. But from how I know you, you’re not someone who deserves to always come second. Bryan is a workaholic, and he’s full of himself, and he doesn’t even have a sense of humor. Didn’t have one when we’re kids, either.”

“I think this conversation is over, Louis,” Harry mumbles, getting up from his place at the table and walking away. 

*

“How do you know that Tomlinson guy?” 

“Hm?” Harry looks up from his phone. His limbs feel heavy from the wine, and his eyes are tired, and he just wants to sleep. 

Bryan doesn’t seem to notice and repeats, “I saw you and Louis Tomlinson together earlier, you seemed pretty close. How d’you know him?” 

It dawns on Harry that he still hasn’t told Bryan about his riding lessons. He probably should. 

“What, are you getting jealous?” Harry smirks, and Bryan scoffs, “No? I was just surprised you know each other, that’s all.” 

“He told me that you two had a thing back in boarding school,” he says and rolls to his back, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He’s not sure why he’s bringing it up. 

“Of course he did,” Bryan sighs. The mattress shifts when he gets into bed next to Harry. “He’s a piece of shit, that’s what he is,” he says after a minute of silence. 

“I take it you’re not a fan?” 

“No,” Bryan snorts, “Guy got himself kicked off the national team when he was eighteen. Drugs or alcohol, I don’t really remember. He could’ve made it big, he always was the best jumper. Turns out some people can’t handle their success.” 

The words ring in Harry’s brain. Louis lied to him. Not that Harry has any right to know the truth, but still. It bothers him. 

“I think he runs his mum’s stable now, or something. Some fancy thing right outside of town, it’s their family legacy,” Bryan adds, and Harry realizes how little he knows about Louis. 

Later, when Bryan is fast asleep next to him, Harry reaches for his phone on the nightstand. Before he can stop himself, he has typed Louis’ name into the search bar. 

The first few websites are the one to the stable, the guest house and some competition records of his riding students. He scrolls past them, the blue hue his phone is giving off illuminating the bedroom slightly.

He eventually finds an article on some forum for equestrians, dating back to 2010. 

“Louis Tomlinson, 18, is to leave the U21 National Team for show jumping after a major alcohol-abuse scandal last week in Nice, France. 

The training camp at the Côte d’Azur was supposed to go on for two more weeks, but was cut short for young talent Tomlinson when pictures and videos of him at a party emerged. An inside source confirmed that, after an additional dispute with his trainer and other team members, he was sent back home to the UK. If he will compete in the upcoming Jumping Grand Prix in July remains open. 

It was only last month that trainer Rodriguez García spoke very highly of his protégé at a press conference, saying he could see him bring a gold medal for the U21 team home at the Prix.

Harry stops reading after that, closing the tab and shutting off his phone. He’s not sure why, but he feels absolutely nauseated. 

When he saw Louis jump, he wasn’t wrong. Before - whatever it was - happened, he was on the national team. Like, legitimately. He probably could have gone to the Olympics, or the world championship. Do those even exist for showjumping?

Harry doesn’t have a clue. 

He doesn’t have the slightest clue about this, but he knows that Louis could probably have done much better than just giving horseback riding lessons. 

*

The steady sound of hooves hitting the bedding of the indoor arena is soothing Harry’s nerves. That’s new. It used to make him anxious, scared that he might fall, but today, it’s different. 

Maybe because it gives him something else to focus on apart from Louis. 

His thoughts are still stuck on that article, and he knows it’s none of his business, but he just can’t imagine what that must have been like. He even forgot about their nice little conversation at the dinner party, and when Louis apologized for it, Harry just stammered a surprised ‘thanks, it’s fine’. 

“So, I had an idea,” Louis says when Harry is bringing Fiona back to her box after the lesson. 

“Oh God,” Harry mumbles before he can stop himself, which earns him an offended scoff from Louis. 

“Shut up. There’s a sort of festival in Whitby, it’s a two hour drive. My sister is part of a classical dressage team and they’re performing there, so I’m driving her and Kingston up there tomorrow morning. I know this is last notice, but I thought maybe you’d want to come along,” Louis explains as he slides the door of the box shut in one quick motion. 

“Uhm. I mean. Sure?” 

“You don’t have to, I thought it might be interesting for you. I know you and Bryan are trying to figure things out or whatever, and that you’re trying to understand his world better. But that dinner last weekend was not it, stuff like the festival tomorrow are way more fun.” 

“Oh,” Harry frowns a little, “Thank you. That’s really nice of you.” 

“Don’t think I’m doing this just for you. I also need someone I can talk to the entire day, I refuse to spend more time with my sister and her friends than needed.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harry grins. 

*

“Don’t laugh at me, but what do I even wear tomorrow?” Harry asks into his phone later that night. 

“Just normal stuff? I don’t know,” Louis’ laugh comes ringing through the speaker, a little muffled. 

They had exchanged numbers earlier, right before Harry left, to figure out their plans for tomorrow in more detail. 

“So, like, I can show up in jeans and t-shirt?” 

“Totally, that’s fine. Bring a sweater, though. We leave early, and it’s really not that warm anymore,” Louis says. 

Harry rolls over to his stomach, switching off the night lamp next to his bed, and says, “How early are we talking about?” 

“Uhm, probably around five in the morning? Lottie wants to have enough time to get everything in order once we get there, and she’s up around the early afternoon.”

“Louis, ” Harry groans, “It’s already one in the morning! Couldn’t you have told me that, like, sooner?” 

“Fuck, no, it’s not. I can’t believe we’ve been talking for two hours, oh my God.” 

“We should sleep, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry yawns, and gets a yawn back in response, “Okay. G’night ‘Arry.” 

And no, Harry does not think about what sleepy Louis might look like when he rolls over and falls asleep himself. 

*

Pulling up at the Tomlinson manor - that’s what he decided he was going to call their property - in the pitch dark the next morning feels weird. 

Harry got around three hours of sleep, and Louis looks just as exhausted as Harry feels. He’s in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, hood pulled up over a baseball cap with brown strands of hair sticking out under it. It’s adorable. 

“Hey,” he says, feeling a little unsure, as he steps up to the Jeep where Louis is loading bags into the trunk. 

“Hi. Lottie’s getting Kingston right now, we should be ready to go in a few minutes,” he responds and points to the trailer coupled to the back of the car. 

“D’you need help with anything?” 

“Nah, I think we’re good. I’m gonna head inside real quick to say goodbye to my mum, and then we’ll be good to go,” Louis says, wiping his hands at his jeans. 

He doesn’t need to go inside, though, because Johannah is already appearing on the doorstep. 

“Oh, hi, Harry. Nice to see you,” she greets him as she walks past him to check the trailer. 

“Mum, I’ve done this a thousand times, I know what I’m doing,” Louis sighs, squeezing her shoulder slightly. 

“I know, I know. I’m just sad I can’t come along, but the horses won’t feed themselves. Make sure you film everything, yeah? And keep me updated,” Johannah says the same time Lottie emerges from the stable, the most stunning horse Harry has ever seen by her side. 

Black and shiny, and graceful in every move. 

“Kingston is a Dutch Warmblood. Lottie’s entire pride,” Louis says, suddenly appearing by Harry’s side. 

“He’s beautiful,” he hums, still watching the horse. 

“You should see him in action. Not to be biased, but Lottie and him are basically invincible together,” he says in a quiet voice. 

“Oi, are you just gonna stand there or are you going to help me?” Lottie shouts, making him flinch a little. 

“Coming,” he shrugs in Harry’s direction, then helps her with the trailer. 

It takes fifteen more minutes before they’re all in the car, Louis driving, Harry riding shotgun and Lottie in the back, rolling out of the driveway. 

“There, you can play whatever you want,” Louis hands Harry the AUX without averting his eyes from the road, “Well. Everything but country.” 

“Hey, you can’t take me on a horse-related road trip and then not let me play country music,” Harry says with a pout, scrolling through the music on his phone. 

“I have no problem abandoning you at the side of the road, Harold.” 

“Okay, okay. Let me have a look,” he grins, before hitting play on Bleachers. The opening chords of ‘Hate That You Know Me’ blast through the car, and Harry flinches at the volume. He turns it down and looks back at Louis, “Is that okay?” 

“It’s not country, at least,” Louis says, a smirk playing on his lips. 

*

Niall: U up for getting lunch?  

No, sorry , Harry texts back, glancing up from his phone every two seconds in order to keep himself from bumping into someone, I’m hanging out w/ Louis.

“Jesus, you’re like Bambi,” Louis laughs, softly placing a hand on Harry’s elbow to guide him through the masses of people. 

“Walking and texting is hard,” he defends himself, putting his phone back into the back pocket of his jeans. He really doesn’t need a collision with a stranger today. 

“I can see that. I’m getting hungry, let’s go find something to eat,” Louis decides. 

They dropped Lottie and Kingston off at a makeshift stable, where she met with her teammates and her trainer, and then kicked Louis and Harry out, telling them that she didn’t need them hanging around and making her nervous. 

Louis was only slightly offended. 

“So, like, can Lottie actually win something today or is it just for fun?” Harry asks, scanning the stalls and booths for something he’d like to have for breakfast. 

German bratwursts are definitely not it, and neither are tiny pizzas. 

“No, it’s not an official competition. But there are always a lot of sponsors around these things and scouts, so if she does good today, it could help her career massively,” Louis explains. 

“Look, there’s a bakery cart. We could get coffee and a cupcake or something.” 

It’s only eight in the morning, but the grounds of the festival are already packed. From what Harry knows, it’s been going on for the entire week, but most people are only coming for the shows from Friday night to Sunday afternoon, or only for one day, like they are. 

There are booths with food and boutiques in tents where you can buy everything from stationary with horses on it to saddles or even trailers. For kids, there’s a playground with bouncy castles and tables where they can get their faces painted. 

The weather is holding up, too. It’s already October, but the rain has decided to give the United Kingdom a break for once, and the sun is out, warming Harry’s face pleasantly. 

“You look like a little child,” Louis grins when he comes back, handing him a disposable cup and a paper bag. 

“You were right, this is much better than a boring dinner. I can’t believe I’ve missed out on this all of my life, it looks so fun,” Harry takes the food from him, spinning around himself to take another look at everything. 

“Okay, we need a game plan.” 

“For what?” 

“So you can see everything before we leave,” Louis says, getting out his phone to look at the scheduled events online. Harry leans over his shoulder to catch a glance as well.

“I bet you’d love watching vaulting, that’s right before Lottie has her show. And there’s this adorable show with kids on Shetland ponies, I go to see it every year,” he starts, and continues listing various other different things Harry apparently has to see. 

*

“My feet hurt,” Harry hears himself complain. He’s so tired, it’s like his mouth is disconnected from his brain. 

“Stop being such a baby. We only have one more hour to go, then we can go home,” Louis says, nudging Harry with his shoulder. 

It’s after nine in the evening, and they’re still wandering the grounds of the festival. By now, most people are drunk or at least tipsy, and all the official shows are over, the horses back in the stables. 

Louis agreed to wait until ten before they’d drive back so that Lottie could celebrate with her team. Her show went well, and someone - Louis told Harry the name, but he doesn’t remember - even came up to her afterwards to talk to her. 

“Louis. I’ve been up for way too long now, and we’ve been walking around for ages, and I refuse to take another step,” he whines, and then just decides to flop down in the grass.

He’ll probably catch a cold, but he couldn’t care less. 

Louis sinks down next to him, pushing his knee into Harry’s with a smile, “Thank you for coming along. I would’ve been really bored without you.” 

“Please. I had the best day ever,” Harry grins at Louis, “Even though you made me spend my hard earned money on breeches.” 

“I just couldn’t go one more week with having to watch you wear jeans on a horse. You’ll see, breeches are way more comfortable,” Louis lets his head fall back, “Look, you can even see the stars tonight.” 

Harry hums in agreement, “They’re beautiful.” 

But he’s not looking at the stars. He’s looking at Louis next to him. 

Louis, with his insanely blue eyes, like the summer sky or the ocean, but always a little more stunning than either of those. Louis, with his witty remarks and heartfelt opinions, and his way of caring about every person around him. 

Louis, who seems to get Harry a little better than everyone else. 

* 

“I will never trust your opinion again,” Harry says, adjusting his pants uncomfortably, “Next week, I’ll be back to wearing jeans.” 

“I cannot believe I’m putting up with your bullshit,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Go get Fiona from her paddock, we’re doing something different today.” 

Harry does as he’s told, not bothering to ask what it is. He couldn’t change Louis’ mind about anything even if he wanted to. 

“I think you’re ready for your first ride around the area. Don’t worry, the paths are even, and Fiona knows them inside out. You don’t even have to do anything,” Louis says when they meet back in front of the table. 

By his side there’s Domino, the horse Harry saw him riding in the old arena, already saddled. It seems like an entire lifetime has passed since that happened.. 

Harry feels like he’s living his own personal horse movie when he mounts Fiona and gets in line next to Louis and Domino, who leads them off the paved courtyard and onto a dirt road. 

For a while, they just stay next to each other in silence. From time to time, Louis corrects Harry’s posture or explains where they are going, but apart from that, they both stay quiet. 

“Hey, Louis? Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” Louis glances at him. 

“You don’t have to tell me, or anything, but. Bryan said something about you being kicked off the team when you were young,” he says slowly, not sure where this is coming from. He hasn’t thought about that in ages. 

“Oh,” Louis hesitantly says, a scowl on his face. 

“It’s okay, I was just curious.” 

“No, I mean,” Louis sighs, “I’m just surprised you knew, that’s all. I’m not surprised he told you though.”

“To be fair, you did tell me that you had a thing in school,” Harry argues. God, they can’t be doing this again. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut. 

“That’s hardly the same thing.” 

“How’s that? I’m not saying that it’s any of his business what you did when you were eighteen, but it also wasn’t your place to tell me that you two were a thing,” Harry says, shrugging.

“When I was eighteen,” Louis starts, making a point of looking everywhere but Harry, “I was on the U21 team, and we had this training camp somewhere in France.”

There’s a pause, and Louis swallows hard, “I was a mess, because my dad died about two weeks before that. Everyone told me not to go, to take time off, but I went anyway. I think I just wanted to pretend that everything was okay, that nothing had happened.

“Eventually, the pressure just got too much. There was this party, and me and a friend went, and I had way too much to drink, showed up at training completely hungover the next day. They sent me home after talking to my mother, and I left the team a few weeks after that. You can tell Bryan that I was not kicked off the team, but that I left by my own choice.” 

“Louis, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that.” 

“Look, it’s fine. It was a hard time for me, and it got even harder when there were all those rumors about me, and I don’t know what would have happened to me if I had stayed on that team,” he says, his voice resigned. “It pisses me off when people like Bryan talk about it like they know shit about what was going on back then.” 

“I get that, okay? I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“I mean,” Louis lets out a heavy breath, “I probably should’ve told you by now.”

“Hey, no. None of that. We’re friends, yeah? But that does not mean that you owe me any explanation to anything, especially not when it’s as personal as this.” 

“Yeah,” Louis nods, “thanks.” 

The rest of the ride passes by in silence, but Harry feels lighter now that they cleared the air. 

*

“Hey, where were you all day? You barely answered my texts,” Bryan says, looking away from the TV, where the news are playing, and at Harry. 

“Oh,” he shrugs, “Nowhere. Hanging out with a friend.” 

On the screen, the host talks about heavy rains in Cornwall, and Harry tries his best to focus on her voice instead of the ugly feeling in his stomach. 

He needs to tell Bryan what he’s been doing over the last two months, but he can’t bring himself to do it. At some point, it went from Harry doing something for Bryan - to understand him better, to earn his respect - to Harry doing something for himself. And something inside of him does not want to share this with him. 

Which isn’t exactly healthy, Harry thinks to himself. If he found something he really liked, he should feel thrilled to tell the person he’s with, but somehow, he doesn’t. 

He wants to lock it away and pretend there’s nothing going on. 

“Niall?” 

“Since when do you care?” Harry shoots back, still not averting his eyes from the screen. 

There’s a small pause, and when he does turn to glance at Bryan, his mouth is slightly agape, and he’s blinking at Harry. 

“I honestly do not understand what’s going on in your brain sometimes,” Bryan sighs and turns down the volume. 

“Hey, I was watching that!” 

“Seriously? I’m trying to have a conversation with you here,” he says, voice exasperated. 

“About what?” 

“I don’t know, about you? What’s going on with you, you’ve been so weird the past few weeks.” 

Bryan looks at Harry, pushing his hair out of his face and searching for something in Harry’s face. He’s not sure what he’s looking for. 

“What do you want me to say?” Harry rubs his eyes, suddenly very tired. 

“I’m trying here, okay? You wanted me to be different for ages, and now that I’m doing the things you wanted me to do, like ask about your friends, you make it look like you don’t give a single shit.” 

“Maybe it’s because I wanted you to care, and not just act like you care,” he snaps, and regrets it immediately. 

“What the fuck, Harry? I do care, can’t you see that?” 

“You’re so fucking tiring, Bryan, do you know that? You always want everything to go your way, and as soon as things don’t, it’s too much for you.” 

“What are you even talking about?” 

Harry gets up from the couch, pulling at his hair and taking a few deep breaths to steady his voice, “For months , you don’t want to commit, you don’t want to meet my friends or family, you always stand me up. And then, as soon as I’m not sitting around waiting for you to come around, you suddenly act like you’ve been trying so hard all this time, when we both know it’s not true.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do, to be honest,” Bryan says, watching him from the couch. 

Harry shakes his head, letting out a breath, “I don’t know. I seriously don’t know.” 

“So, what now?” 

“I think,” Harry says slowly, looking at Bryan, “I think that, maybe, we’re not right for each other.” 

*

To break or not to break up, that is the question. 

And it’s been rolling around in Harry’s brain for three days now, back and forth and forth and back, and he can’t make a decision. 

He’s not talking to Niall or Gemma about it, because he knows what they would say. 

They never liked Bryan, not even in the beginning when things were good. And maybe they were right, but there also is a chance that they were wrong, and Harry is not sure whether he’s willing to throw it all away, right when it seems like Bryan is finally listening to him. 

“Harry, watch where you’re going! Jesus, where’s your head at today?” Louis calls from the middle of the arena, snapping him out of it. 

“Right, sorry,” he replies, straightening his back and gives Fiona the signal to start trotting. 

It’s easier now, the ups and downs are familiar to him and he doesn’t have to think about what to do with his legs and feet and arms as much anymore. 

“Hey, are you okay? You seem out of it,” Louis says after the lesson, following him into the track room as Harry is putting back the saddle and the bridle. 

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head, “I’ve just got a lot going on at the moment.” 

“You know we can postpone some of the lessons, right? You don’t need to drive out here every week if it’s too much for you,” Louis says, concern showing on his face as he steps closer. 

Harry shakes his head, “No, it’s not about that. Coming here is basically the only thing keeping me sane.” 

Seeing you is keeping me sane. 

“That sounds bad,” he smiles at him, but his eyes are empathetic, “If you need to talk, you know I’m here, right?” 

Louis’ hand is warm and reassuring on Harry’s arm, but it’s not doing the last thing to calm him down. Instead, it’s burning into his skin, and he has to restrain himself from shaking it off. Being so close to Louis is too much. 

He can feel his cheeks flushing, and clears his throat, “Yeah. Uhm, thank you.”

Louis’ blue eyes stay focussed on Harry’s face for a couple more seconds, and they are so, so close to each other that he almost forgets how to breathe. 

But then the door to the track room flies open with a bang, and two younger girls come in, chatting loudly, and Harry jumps away from Louis’ touch. 

*

I’m a mess, Ni. Call me.

Niall does not call Harry. 

Instead, he shows up at his front door ten minutes later, and Harry doesn’t question how he got there so quickly. 

“What did you do now?” he asks as he walks past Harry, right into his living room, sitting down on his favorite armchair by the window. 

Niall is practically the only reason he hasn’t thrown that thing out yet. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Harry defends himself, laying down on the carpet in front of Niall and stares at the lamp dangling from the ceiling. 

“And yet here we are, so spit it out.” 

Harry sighs, and props himself up on his elbows to be able to look at Niall, “I think - I think I need to break up with Bryan. If you can even call it that.” 

“Okay,” he nods, “why?” 

“Because,” he sighs, “oh God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. There’s someone else. Well, not really. There’s nothing happening, or anything, but - I think I like him?” 

“Harry. Not to pressure you or anything, but if you want me to give you any advice, I need more than that.” 

“He’s just - he cares . Like, I talk to him, and he’s actually listening and lets me finish my sentences, even when I’m not making any sense. He’s funny and intelligent and he knows what he wants and how to get it. You know, like he has a purpose and a reason for why he’s doing certain things.

“And being around him makes me feel a way that I never felt with Bryan. Not even on our best days. I really wanted Bryan and me to work out, but maybe you’re right. Maybe everyone was right, and I was just too stupid to see it.” 

“Don’t say that, H. You saw something in him, and it was your decision to keep looking for that,” Niall says, shrugging a little helplessly, “It’s not your fault that it wasn’t there.” 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He groans in frustration.

“You really like this other guy, don’t you?” Niall asks, nudging Harry’s shoulder with his foot. 

“Yeah, I think I do,” he exhales. 

*

After that conversation, it feels like a weight has been lifted off Harry’s chest. 

The only problem is that Niall is now all up in his business, trying to get him to ask Louis out, or ‘confess’ his feelings. 

Which. No? He will not be doing that anytime soon, thank you very much. Besides, it’s not like there are any concrete feelings, it’s just Harry having a miniscule crush on his riding instructor slash friend. 

It’s not even worth mentioning. 

It’s just that whenever Louis laughs at something Harry says or looks at him with that particular look, the one that says ‘Don’t bullshit me’ or rolls his eyes while shaking his head, Harry starts tripping over his own feet or bumping into door frames with his shoulder. 

Like two seconds ago, when he hit his hip bone on the corner of the counter in the feeding room. 

“Sometimes I ask myself how you managed to make it to the ripe age of twenty-four with your two left feet,” Louis snorts, and puts down a bucket with concentrate in it next to him. 

“Yes, I’m fine, no need to worry. Oh, I think it’s going to leave a bruise, but I’ll survive,” Harry mumbles only partly offended and rubs the spot where he hit himself. 

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” he huffs, “help me with this instead.” 

Doing as he’s told, Harry grabs two of the buckets and carries them out into the stable, Louis on his feet. 

“Hey, are you going to pay me for doing all your work?” He asks after he fed some of the horses and turns back to him, leaning against the wall of the stable. 

This isn’t the first time he’s stayed longer to help with feeding since he’s Louis’ last student of the day. It only started because they were talking after lessons and Harry didn’t just want to stand around and watch while Louis had work to do.

“We’re always looking for stable boys, so if you want to quit your boring office job and get your hands dirty, no one is holding you back,” Louis grins, dumping the last bucket into Domino’s trough. After a second he adds, “Imagine if I’d stayed in show jumping, I probably wouldn’t have to do any of this.” 

Harry knows he’s only joking, but it strikes his curiosity, so he asks, “Why didn’t you go back into show jumping after you got your life back on track? I’m sure they would’ve let you.” 

He gets a shrug in response. “They asked me to come back after the Prix that year. I just didn’t want to.” 

“Why?” 

Harry can’t wrap his head around it. Why would you give something like that up? Especially in Louis’ position, it’s obvious that his heart is still in it and he read that article, everyone thought that he was going to win the gold medal that year. 

“Going professional wasn’t something I wanted to do after taking a break from it. Competitions and training and pressure was all I knew my entire life, and I thought I wanted it that way. I realized that that wasn’t the case when I got some distance from it,” Louis explains, still in Domino’s box, petting his forehead. 

“But I saw you jump, Louis. I don’t have a single clue about that, and I can still tell that you love it,” Harry says, stepping closer to the box. 

He shrugs, “I do. But you don’t have to go professional just because you love something.” 

His hands slip under Domino’s mane, and he rests his forehead against his. Harry lost his fear of the horses a while ago, but he doesn’t have the same connection to them as Louis has, he probably never will. 

“But you had it in you, Louis. Like, you could’ve gone all the way.” 

“Is success really worth all of that? The pressure was taking away the fun of it, and now I can just do it because I love it, not because I have to,” Louis says, and his voice is muffled by the horse’s fur. 

“Don’t you miss competing?”

Louis emerges from behind Domino again, now with a frown on his face, “Why are you pressing this? I quit years ago, we didn’t even know each other back then. What does this have to do with you?” 

“I’m just wondering. You could’ve lived such a different life, but you chose not to, and maybe you could still do better, I don’t know.” 

Louis’ face changes from confused to pissed off, Harry can see it in the way his brows arch differently and by the twist of his mouth. He knows he probably should have shut up a while ago. 

“I could do better? You don’t get to judge how good my life right now is, which I happen to like a lot. Besides, you’re the one dating a superficial asshole that doesn’t even want to be in a relationship and treats you like crap. I’m not the one that could do better, if we’re really honest here,” Louis snaps, eyes gleaming at Harry like it’s an invitation to fire back. 

Low blow, Tomlinson , Harry thinks to himself. He guesses he deserved it. 

“We’re not… dating anymore,” he says and his voice is suddenly very hoarse. He clears his throat quickly, closing his eyes for a second, “We broke up last night.” 

Harry knew it was going to happen, he knew it needed to happen, hell, he even was the one that broke up with Bryan. And he really thought that he was prepared for it, because he felt like he was out of the door with one foot already anyway, but it somehow still knocked the air out of his lungs. 

When he looks at Louis again, the anger has washed off his face. It’s almost like they weren’t about to fight just a minute ago. His eyes are soft now, and his expression a little sad, a little comforting. 

“I’m sorry, H. Are you okay?” he asks gently.

He shrugs a little helplessly, “I mean, yeah, I guess so. I will be. It was the right thing to do.” 

Before he can even blink twice, Louis is out of the box and hugging him, so tight, Harry forgets how to breathe. 

After a second, he overcomes his state of shock and hugs him back, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, because this is his moment, and he doesn’t want to have it ruined by the ghost of his ex in his brain, but he can’t help it.

Can’t help but think that, maybe, this is what it feels like to be safe in someone else’s arms. 

Maybe, this is what he should have been feeling this entire time, just, somehow, he didn’t. 

*

It’s the middle of the night, and Harry is awake. 

Why is he awake? 

He shuffles around in his bed, groaning, before he can locate the cause of his rude awakening. It’s his phone, buzzing on the nightstand. 

“‘Ello?” He mumbles as soon as he has managed to accept the call. Doing that with your eyes halfway closed turned out to be harder than expected. 

“Hi, Harry. It’s Louis,” Louis’ voice doesn’t sound that different from his own, still covered with sleep. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you. It’s -,” he pauses to check quickly, “three in the morning.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. Not my preferred time of waking up either. But my friend Liam just called me, and -”

“Could you please wrap it up so I can go back to sleep?” Harry groans, burying his face in his pillow again. 

“And one of their mares just gave birth. I’m headed over there now, I just wanted to know if you wanted to come along. You’ve never seen a newborn foal, right?” Louis says, ignoring Harry’s protests. 

Harry is not quite sure how Louis managed to convince him this was worth getting up for at three in the night, but twenty minutes later, he’s getting out of his car, dressed in sweats and a hoodie. 

When he was driving, the night around him was pitch black, but around the stables of the Tomlinson manor are dim lights lit up, and right when he’s about to text Louis that he’s there, the main door cracks open, and he steps out into the cold night. 

“I really hate you right now,” Harry mumbles when Louis is close enough, his voice still hoarse. 

“You’ll love me once you see the foal,” he dismisses him and walks past him to his own car. 

It’s the same Jeep they took to get to the festival, Harry notices when he gets into the passenger seat. The floor mats are dirty with mud and bedding material, and there’s a pile of blankets and a helmet on the back seat. 

“It’s still going to be there in a few hours, right?” he asks as he slams the car door shut behind him. 

Louis looks at him, rolls his eyes, and then starts the car without commenting on it further. 

It’s only a five minute drive, the Payne’s stud being the first property down the road. It’s still dark when they get outside, and a cold breeze blows right through Harry’s clothes the moment he gets out of the car, and he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, already freezing. 

Louis is much more appropriately dressed for late November, wearing a down jacket on top of a jumper, the hood pulled up over his head. He looks soft and sleepy in the dim light coming from the stable, causing Harry’s chest to ache a little. 

“Are you sure we can just go in?” he asks Louis when he pushes open the door to the stable, the now familiar smell of horse already wafting outside. 

“Liam and I have been friends since we were toddlers, the same for our mothers. I’m family,” Louis says, taking Harry by the lower arm and pulling him inside. 

Inside, it’s quiet, just the even breathing of the horses is filling out the silence. In the back, Harry spots a dark silhouette in front of a box, and when they get close enough, Harry realizes he recognizes the man from some pictures in the Tomlinson’s kitchen. 

Brown, shaggy hair (which might be to blame on the time of the day) and puppy eyes. 

“Oh, hi. I didn’t know you’d be bringing someone along with you,” Liam says when he notices them and turns away from the box to throw Louis a pregnant look, who only rolls his eyes and shrugs, “Harry’s never seen a foal before.”

“Excuse me , I have,” he corrects Louis, “You just thought it’d be necessary to wake me at two thirty so I could see one in the middle of the night.” 

Liam snorts, interrupting Louis’ attempt at bickering back, “So, now that you’re here. Do you want to see her?”

Harry does not need to be asked twice to look at baby animals, no matter how much shit he’ll continue to give Louis for waking him up. 

The foal is dark brown, with a white blaze on her forehead, and seems really unstable on her too long, wobbly legs. 

“She just stood up like five minutes ago,” Liam explains, and Harry is a little startled by his voice, he was so fascinated by the tiny animal in front of him. 

“How’d labour go?” Louis asks, suddenly right next to Harry. He can’t help but notice how their arms are pressed together now, from the shoulders to the wrists. Feeling brave, he leans into it a little, shifting his weight to his left leg. 

Louis simply glances at Harry, an intimate smile on his lips, and keeps listening to Liam talk about words Harry doesn’t even bother to understand. If something had gone horribly wrong, the foal probably wouldn’t be standing there. 

He’s not quite sure for how long they’re standing there, just looking at the animal in front of him. He supposes Liam and Louis are talking, but Harry’s in this weird sort of daze where he’s not really awake yet, and their voices keep fading in and out. 

“Hey,” Louis softly nudges him, “D’you wanna go home?” 

Harry blinks a few times until he’s back in the real world, then shakes his head, “No, it’s fine. We can stay.” 

“You’re literally falling asleep while standing,” Louis says, already stepping back from the box, “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

Harry is so out of it, he not only forgets to say goodbye to Liam, he also doesn’t notice that Louis is holding his hand until they’re almost at the care. 

His brain feels too light to even think about what that means. 

As it turns out, Louis doesn’t live with his mother and sister in the main house anymore. Instead, he has his own apartment in the attic with a separate entry and facing the fields. It’s still semi-dark outside, so Harry doesn’t see much of that when he collapses on the large sofa in the living room, but that’s what Louis tells him at least. 

Louis hadn’t even asked him to come upstairs, he just went and Harry simply followed. 

For a while, Harry keeps dozing off as Louis is rummaging in his kitchen, declining every single one of Harry’s offers to help. Then he comes back into the living room, a steaming cup in each hand and a carton of cookies tucked underneath his chin. 

“You really don’t function without sleep, don’t you?” Louis laughs when he sees Harry curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest. 

Harry just shakes his head and nuzzles deeper into the cushions. 

“Remind me never to wake you again,” he snorts. “Move, you giant baby. I need some space on here too.” 

“Noo,” Harry whines, demonstratively closing his eyes.

“Oh my God, you’re so annoying,” he grunts in response, and Harry can hear him put down the mugs on the coffee table. Then, he simply squeezes into the tiny gap between Harry’s back and the backrest of the couch. 

At first, he doesn’t dare to move, overwhelmed by this much physical contact. Louis keeps shifting around for a few moments, but then he stops, one hand wedged in between Harry’s arm and torso. It’s only when then that Harry realizes that his breathing has gone even and that Louis, in fact, fell asleep in a matter of minutes. 

He should probably move to give Louis more space, but the moment he starts doing so, his fingers curl into Harry’s sweatshirt, tightening their grip, and Harry stays where he is. He guesses he could fall asleep too, at least for a little, so he closes his eyes. 

*

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

At one point during however long Harry has been asleep, Louis must have gotten up, because when Harry blinks his eyes open, he’s standing over him, sipping from one of the mugs. 

“I do no such thing,” he mumbles, shuffling to sit upright. 

“Yes, you do. I couldn’t understand a thing, though,” Louis replies, sitting down across from Harry. 

“What time is it?” Harry asks, checking for his phone until he realizes he left it in his car again. 

“Almost seven,” Louis says, nodding to the windows. The sun is just climbing up over the hills in the horizon, painting the sky golden. 

“How is it still this early? I feel like it’s been today forever.” 

“What. So you don’t like spending time with me?” 

Harry knows Louis is joking, can see it in his face, but he still says, “You know I do.” 

*

“Not to be a bore, but I think Gatsby was so stupid for waiting around for Daisy like that,” Harry says, pressing pause on the remote and turning to Louis. 

The screen freezes on a frame of a close up of Leonardo DiCaprio’s face. 

“I mean, maybe? But he also just loved her so much and trusted their love,” Louis says, shrugging. 

It’s almost noon by now, and they have resorted to watching all the DVDs Louis owns after a breakfast consisting of toast with peanut butter. The list of all the DVDs in Louis’ apartment is made out of five movies. No, honestly. Louis Tomlinson does not own more than five DVDs. 

The first Iron Man movie, Mamma Mia!, Love, Actually, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest and, of course, The Great Gatsby. 

It’s such a weird combination of movies, it leaves Harry at a loss for words. He wouldn’t have ever paired either of those with each other. But, then again, this is Louis he’s talking about, and it’s somehow fitting for him. He has this whirlwind mind that Harry can never quite wrap his head around.

“I just don’t know whether I still believe in that kind of love. You know, the one where - I don’t even know. Where it doesn’t leave one party feeling like they aren’t enough, I guess. Look at Daisy and Gatsby, yeah? Gatsby tried and tried, and Daisy still stayed with Tom,” Harry says, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. He just now notices that it’s still the one he slept in. 

Louis frowns a little, “That’s fictional, though. Didn’t Fitzgerald just use it to say that the American Dream is a load of bullshit?” 

“How do you know that?” Harry asks challengingly, crossing his arms, but kind of amazed by the way Louis’ brain works. 

He smirks, quirking one eyebrow, “Elite boarding school, remember? They loved Fitzgerald and Wilde and whatnot.” He pauses, looking at Harry for a moment, “But really. Just because Fitzgerald was a pessimist, it doesn’t mean that this kind of love doesn’t exist.” 

“Still,” Harry shakes his head, “You try to do everything right, like Gatsby did, and then it still doesn’t work out.” 

Harry can see the moment it clicks on Louis’ face. When he connects the dots, he takes in a sharp breath, the frown on his forehead deepening.

“Harry. That was Bryan, you know that. In the end it just boiled down to him not wanting to commit to a proper relationship.” 

He inches away from Louis without really noticing and says, “That’s not even what happened.” 

“It’s not? I thought you struggled with that.” 

“I mean, yeah, but only in the beginning. The last few months, he really was trying. But it was too late, and I realized that - that I didn’t want to be with him. And - that’s fucked up, isn’t it? That he tried to be what I wanted him to be, and it still wasn’t enough,” Harry says slowly, piecing it together in his mind. It’s hard to explain the turmoil of feelings in his head and stomach that sets in as soon as he starts thinking about Bryan and everything that went down between them. 

“Some people are just not meant to be together, and that’s okay. You couldn’t have known,” Louis says softly, reaching out one hand, maybe to touch Harry, but he lets it sink down before he actually does. 

“I know, but. You invest all your time in this person, this relationship, right? And then, and you can try so hard to make it work, it all falls apart, because it’s not the right time, or not the right person, even though you want them to be.”

Louis’ face changes at that. It’s surprising how Harry notices it so quickly every time, but he can see how he’s more distanced now.  “So. You wanted Bryan to be the ‘right person’?”

Harry groans, then sighs, “That’s not - I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is that I don’t think I’m up to going through all that again. I wasn’t even, like, in love with him, and I’m still such a mess right now. I mean, just look at me. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Harry. I don’t know about everything that was going on between you, but from what I know, he wasn’t the best partner to you.” When Harry opens his mouth to say something to that, Louis cuts him off, “No, let me finish. It doesn’t matter that he tried to change towards the end, it was still months of feeling like you weren’t enough for him. I know that leaves scars, yeah? But that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve a great love story.”

“Did you just quote Love, Simon to me?” Harry asks, biting back a smile.  

Louis rolls his eyes, but there’s this hint of a grin coming through, “Shut up.”

After a second, he says, “One day, there will be someone that will be what you need, and what you want. Someone that makes sure that you’re safe, and then you’ll be glad you didn’t let one bad relationship navigate the rest of your life.”

“It just all feels so pointless.”

“Yeah, but that’s only today. Tomorrow will be better, and the day after, too. And the day after that, and the day-”

Harry chuckles, and it comes out a little strangled, “It’s okay, I get it.”

“You’ll be okay, yeah? I know you’re feeling a little messed up right now, but there are people that can deal with that, and that are willing to wait for you. This won’t last forever, I promise,” Louis says softly, and Harry lets out a breath that feels like he had been holding it since the night he broke up with Bryan. 

He tips his head to the side, lets it rest on Louis’ shoulder. 

“Why are you so sure of that?” Harry asks, and he can feel Louis hesitate before he answers. 

He says it so quietly and so softly, nothing more but a whisper, Harry almost misses it. 

“I just know.”

He’s not quite sure what to make of that, has no clue what Louis meant by it. 

I just know . 

He picks his head up again, looking at Louis questioningly. 

“God, you’re so slow,” he says, and it’s probably meant to come across light-hearted and like Louis is just messing with him, but he sounds breathless and nervous. 

Harry just gapes at him. Because what is happening? 

“I am willing to wait for you until you’ve figured out what you want,” he says, quiet and insistent. 

“Wait,” Harry clears his throat, letting his eyes wander over Louis’ face. He’s not sure what he’s looking for. Maybe for a sign that this is all just a really bad joke at his expense. He’s about to say something else, but then he catches the way Louis is nibbling on his lower lip, anxiously waiting for a reply, so he forces himself to think straight. 

He likes Louis. A lot. Too much, probably. Especially since he doesn’t know what to make of relationships, and now Louis basically put it all out there, willing to let Harry make the decision. 

When he reaches out, his hand finding its place on the nape of Louis’ neck, his skin is warm and soft under his touch. Louis’ eyes scan Harry’s face, a little confused, a little unfocused. 

The air between them is thick with the uncertainty of the next few minutes. Harry thinks he could cut it with a knife. 

“What if I don’t want you to wait for me,” he says, it comes out as a whisper, “What if I want now, not tomorrow.” 

“Harry,” Louis lets out a breath and they are so close by now that he can feel it brush over his cheeks. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I know what I said. But,” he shrugs, “I don’t want to be your Bryan.” 

Maybe it’s not the most rational thing to do. Maybe he shouldn’t jump head over heels into the next mess when he’s not even out of the last one. But last time, he did everything the way you should do it, and it still ended up in a giant pile of disappointment and hurt. 

Maybe there is no “right way” to this. 

“You’re not. This is my decision, I can wait for you. I know what I’m getting myself into,” Louis says, shaking his hand. 

“And this is my decision,” Harry hums, distracted by the way Louis’ gaze keeps flicking down to his mouth, and how he licks his own lips, and how he can feel his breaths on his skin. 

They’re so close, it’s agonizing. But neither of them moves to close the gap between them. 

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, breathless, his nose almost touching Harry’s face. 

Instead of answering, he cups Louis’ face with his other hand as well, and inches forward until his lips touch Louis’. 

For half a second, it’s barely there, just a suggestion of what could be, and they don’t move at all. But then, Louis leans in, left hand disappearing in Harry’s curls, the other on his thigh, warm and persistent. 

Harry feels like he’s sixteen again and like this is his first kiss, his heart beating fast enough that he might worry about it if he weren’t so preoccupied by how Louis tastes like tea and how his mouth moves against his. 

It’s almost too innocent, too careful, and perfect in every way. 

When they break apart, Harry keeps his eyes shut for a moment, Louis’ soft chuckle resonating in his ears, before he opens them again. It’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. 

Louis touches his forehead against his, and his eyes are Harry’s favorite color. 

Blue. 

He never had a favorite color before, but he thinks that this one might be it. 

“You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Louis says quietly, and Harry just has to kiss him again. 

Louis sighs into it, and Harry wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. He doesn’t know what took him so long. 

*

It’s not the easiest thing to get used to this. 

Sometimes, Louis will walk up to Harry and hug him from behind, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, and Harry will startle or tense up. He likes it, of course he does, it makes him feel bubbly and happy, but it’s still unfamiliar. 

On other days, there are missed messages on his phone, and he feels bad for not being good at texting back. 

It catches him off-guard when he’s telling a story and notices that he’s lost his train of thought a while ago, but Louis is still listening to every word he’s saying. 

Dropping his old habits and patterns of thinking is hard, but Louis is there and he’s sweet and caring and funny and always there to remind Harry that good things can happen in life, even when you stop believing in them. 

Maybe, Louis is the best of all of them. 

*

Louis: One more drink and I’ll come over. 

Harry shuts his phone off, throwing it to the other end of the couch. It’s always the same old story, he knows it inside out. “One more drink” means at least another hour, and Harry is tired and wants to go to bed. 

He supposes that this is his own fault. Louis had asked him to come along to a night out with his friends, namely Liam and Zayn, but Harry had to catch up on some work, so he’d politely declined. 

But now all of his work is caught up on and he’s watched Ratatouille on itv, and is now bored out of his mind. 

His phone buzzes in the distance as he’s zapping through the channels, trying to find something worth watching. He groans and fishes after it.

“Hello?” he asks. At the other end of the line are loud voices and music in the background, and Harry startles when Louis’ voice comes booming out of the speaker, “I don’t know where your apartment is.” 

“I sent you the address, remember?” Harry asks, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Yeah, well, see. I don’t know the way,” Louis' voice is a little slurred, and he stumbles over the vowels as he speaks. It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. 

“If you want me to come and pick you up, you could just say so,” he says, already getting up from the couch and slipping into his sneakers. 

“Okay. Can you please come and pick me up? I’ll love you forever and always.” 

Harry shakes his head at him and closes the door behind him, “I’m already on my way. See you in ten minutes.” 

It’s cold outside, and Harry almost regrets walking instead of taking his car. But he would’ve felt stupid driving down the road just to pick up a tipsy Louis. 

He spots him right when he enters the pub, it’s like he’s a magnet for Harry’s eyes. He’s sitting on a bar stool, elbows propped up on the table and talking to Liam and a black haired guy, probably Zayn. 

“Hi hi,” Harry says to Louis when he reaches their table, squeezing his shoulder twice. 

“‘Ello,” he grins up at Harry, eyes twinkling - he’s definitely drunk. “Liam, Zayn, ‘s my ‘arry,” he says, directed towards his friends. His hand wanders up to his shoulder, where Harry’s is still resting, and holds it. 

“Liam and I already met,” he replies, smiling, “you know, that night with the foal.” 

“Right. That was a great day,” Louis leans back against Harry who is standing behind him and looks up at him again. 

“Yeah,” he says, leaning down to kiss his forehead. 

“Ugh, I need a drink. You’re both disgusting,” Liam says, pushing himself out of his chair, “Anyone else?” 

Zayn nods, but Harry shakes his head, “No, thanks. I think I’ve got to get this one home,” he says, poking Louis’ cheek with his index finger. 

“Heey,” he drawls out, frowning, but he only looks as threatening as a month old kitten. 

“C’mon,” Harry takes a step back, which only leads to Louis almost falling off his chair because, apparently, he has no body tension anymore. 

It takes ten more minutes until he’s managed to get Louis to say goodbye to Zayn and Liam and out to the street. 

“‘M sorry that I’m drunk,” Louis mumbles as they cross the street, fingers intertwined, “‘m not used to drinking anymore.” 

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Harry says, bumping their shoulders together, “Drunk you is very cute.” 

“I do my best,” Louis says and trips over his own feet a second later. 

“C’mere, Bambi,” Harry wraps an arm around Louis, pulling him close and steadying him, and he fits to his side like the perfect puzzle. 

“You’re Bambi,” he argues, but slips one hand into the back pocket of Harry’s jeans anyway. 

Harry huffs, “You’re the one not able to walk a straight line.” 

“Yes, but I’ve had like three beers too many. You can’t walk a straight line even when you’re completely sober,” he sticks his tongue out at him in a childish manner, and Harry flicks his nose in response. 

“I wanna have a picnic,” Louis decides when they’re about to reach Harry’s building. 

“What, right now?” 

“No, silly. But I wanna go on a ride and we can bring sandwiches and then we can sit in the sun and eat them,” Louis explains as Harry fishes for his keys, “And then I can ask you to be my boyfriend.” 

Harry almost drops his keys. 

When he looks at Louis, he’s smirking mischievously, the little shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Too bad it’s winter,” Harry says, “no picnics for another few months.” 

He turns to unlock the door, biting back a grin, but Louis grabs him by the arm, spinning him around. “Don’t be a dick, Harry.” 

“Me? Never,” he says, keeping his charade up for another two seconds before Louis’ pleading look breaks him. 

He cups his face with his hands, smiling softly at him, “I know you’re drunk right now,” he watches his face closely, “but if you still want me to be your boyfriend tomorrow morning when you’re sober, I’d like that.”

“You would?” Louis asks, eyes wide. 

“Don’t act like that’s a surprise,” Harry grins, and starts to add something, but before he can get a single word out, Louis has gotten on his tiptoes and shut Harry up by kissing him. He’s not sure whether it’s the alcohol, but their chins and noses knock together with a little too much excitement. 

It still gets Harry dizzy and light-headed.

Louis pushed up against the wall, mouths moving at a bruising pace, fingers digging into the skin of Harry’s neck. 

They break apart, and there’s a crooked grin on Louis’ face, and his cheeks are flushed and his hair dishevelled, and Harry has never seen someone this beautiful before. 

Eventually, they do make their way upstairs and into Harry’s apartment, fingers locked, and Louis comments on every little detail. The picture of Harry with Gemma in the entryway, the stained rug in the living room, the color of Harry’s bedsheets.

“I’ve never been here before,” Louis mumbles as he gets into the bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes. 

“That’s because you lead a busy life,” Harry tips his nose and climbs over him, unbuttoning Louis’ jeans. He knows perfectly well he won’t be able to sleep with them on. 

“Trying to get in my pants, Styles?” Louis asks, not moving at all. 

“Always,” he says offhandedly, “it would be easier if you weren’t pretending to be dead, though.”

With a grunt, Louis lifts his hips off the mattress, and Harry pulls his jeans down. He can’t resist how the soft skin above the waistband of Louis’ boxers looks in the hazy light of the bedroom, and so he brushes his lips against it, softly and lightly. 

He doesn’t miss the soft sigh escaping Louis’ lips, but forces himself to back away anyway.

“Hey,” he complains, grabbing after Harry without opening his eyes. 

Harry throws the jeans to the floor and then collapses next to Louis, face nuzzled against his neck. “You’re drunk,” he mumbles, kissing the spot right under his jaw.

“Hm,” Louis hums, “You’re way too considerate.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything else, closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of Louis’ fingers running through his hair. 

“D’you wanna know a secret?” 

Harry turns over to his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows in order to properly look at Louis, “Tell me.” 

“I had a stupid crush on you from the day you stumbled into the stable with your two left feet,” Louis grins dopily. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” Harry asks, and when he nods, he continues, “I thought you were a dick when we first met.”

“Hey! I’m nice!” 

“You were late,” Harry pokes his chin, “And I thought you were conceited.” 

“I told you, I lost track of time,” Louis pouts, and Harry kisses it off. “I know, but I didn’t know you back then. I thought you were one of those people that think they’re better than everyone else.” 

“But now you know me?” he asks, and Harry grins. Drunk Louis is such a baby, it’s adorable. 

“Yes, I do.”

“Remember how scared of the horses you were?” He giggles, cheeks rosy and smile wide. 

“What, they are intimidating,” he says, offended. 

“Sure,” Louis hums, and wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, “Sleepy time.” 

Harry relaxes into it, can hear Louis’ soft breathing right above his own ear, and doesn’t even mind when he slips his cold feet between Harry’s legs to warm them. 

It's comforting to know that he’s there. 

* 

December slips by without a big fuzz. Harry spends Christmas and New Year’s at home with his family, but talks to Louis for the better part of three hours on the phone on his birthday, and made sure to hide a present in his flat before he left. 

The first week of January comes with heaps of snow, and Louis, apparently a fan of icy temperatures, forces Harry to go on a ride with him through the forest instead of spending the day holed up in Louis’ apartment with blankets and hot tea. 

“It’s my birthday,” he had pouted, and Harry politely told him that his birthday was two weeks ago. And then they had a discussion about Christmas Eve birthdays and belated celebrations and in the end Louis won him over with his best puppy eyes and the promise of a hot shower afterwards. 

Lottie had just given him a sneering look when she saw them saddling their horses and said, “He’s got you wrapped around his finger, hasn’t he?” 

A statement that is absolutely true. 

“My feet are frozen,” Harry complains, his breath lingering in the air in white curls. 

“We're almost home, I promise. Now, stop complaining and look how pretty everything is.”

He’s right about that, the snow is glistening in the afternoon sun, and everything looks like it’s been coated by a layer of white icing or powdered sugar. Louis’ eyes are bright with happiness, and his cheeks are red from the cold, and he’s wearing a thick down jacket that seems to swallow him, and Harry’s stomach swoops when he looks at him for longer than two seconds. 

“Almost as pretty as you,” he grins.

Louis rolls his eyes, but there’s this fond look in them. “You’re so embarrassing.” 

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Harry asks when they are almost back at the stables, the forest soil giving way to cobblestones and gravel. 

“Why?” 

“‘Wanna take you out for dinner. You know, because we didn’t spend your birthday together,” he says. 

For a second, he stops short when he thinks he recognizes one of the cars in the parking lot, but then is distracted when Louis answers, “Harry, no. You already gave me those concert tickets, and went on a ride with me today, you don’t need to do anything else.” 

They stop in front of the stable and dismount the horses, and Harry steps around Fiona to kiss Louis. His lips and nose are cold against Harry’s face, which reminds him how badly he wants to get inside and warm up. 

“Don’t act like spending time with you is a chore for me,” he says, and Louis smiles. 

“I know that, you idiot,” he huffs,“but I also don’t need you to shower me with presents and attention.” 

“What if I want to, though?” Harry asks, pecking at Louis’ lips. 

“Well,” he hums, smiling into the kiss, “I guess I wouldn’t hate it.” 

After they’ve looked after the horses and put them back in their boxes, they walk back to the main house, fingers intertwined and shoulders bumping together with every second step, and Louis is laughing about something Harry said, when he spots him. 

At first, he’s not sure whether his eyes are just betraying him, but it’s obviously him, with his neatly styled hair and red scarf that Harry got him last year for his birthday. 

“What’s Bryan doing here?” he asks Louis, stopping in his tracks. 

Louis looks up to the entrance, where Bryan shakes Johannah’s hand, and turns around to walk down the stairs. He freezes when he sees them. 

“Just something about the summer cup, I don’t really know,” Louis shrugs, “Would you have wanted me to tell you?” 

Harry squeezes his hand, “I don’t know. I don’t particularly fancy running into him.” 

“I kind of thought he’d be gone by the time we got back,” he shrugs. 

“Harry,” Bryan has made his way down the stairs and is now standing in front of them. He’s not looking at Harry, though, his eyes are fixed on Louis’ and Harry’s gloved hands that are still locked together. 

“Bryan,” he replies, and Louis’ grip on his hand tightens.  

“What are you doing here?” he asks, still not looking up. 

Before Harry can get a word out, Louis jumps in, “None of your business.” 

“Louis ,” Harry hisses, glancing up to the entryway where Jay is still standing. She catches his gaze and waves before she heads inside. 

Harry has the unpleasant feeling that this might turn into a real shitshow. 

“Seems like you’ve got yourself a new boyfriend pretty quickly, huh?” 

“A better one that you could ever be,” Louis says challengingly, the same moment Harry asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

There’s a tense pause, then Harry turns to Louis. “Lou, c’mon. Give me a moment, yeah?” he says quietly. Maybe, if Bryan and Louis aren’t peacocking around each other, he might be able to diffuse the situation a little. 

“Sure,” he mumbles and makes his way to the house, but not without pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. 

Jesus. Harry probably should have guessed that he’s of the jealous kind by now. 

“I don’t know what you are thinking,” he says to Bryan as soon as Louis is out of earshot, “but I did not cheat on you.” 

“I never said that.” 

Harry crosses his arms, “Right. I just wanted to put it out there.” 

“It’s still funny that you broke up with me because you realized we weren’t ‘good together’ and then you start dating him of all people,” Bryan says. 

“I broke up with you because we weren’t working, you know that. Louis and I didn’t get together until after I broke up with you,” he explains, wondering why he’s even bothering at the same time. It’s not like he owes him anything. 

“So he wasn’t the reason why you didn’t want to be with me anymore?” 

The question hangs in the air. Harry can’t deny it that he sort of fell for Louis before he broke up with Bryan, that Louis made him realize that, the way things were, he wouldn’t ever be happy in a relationship with him. 

But they were doomed either way. 

“I fucking knew it,” Bryan grunts, shaking his head, “I knew from the second I saw you two together at the dinner party.” 

“Knew what?”

“That - He can’t stand me, jesus. He probably just wanted to get back at me.” 

Harry chokes out a laugh, “Are you listening to yourself right now?” 

“Am I wrong, though?” 

“You have never been more wrong, oh my God. Louis and I - we didn’t even meet for the first time that night, Christ, and our relationship is not about you !” Harry shakes his head in disbelief. 

“So there was something going on between you while we were together!”

“No, fucking listen. We met in September, and only because - God, I can’t believe that I was willing to do that for you. I took riding lessons from him because I wanted to - I don’t even know, impress you? Because you were always such a dick, and made me feel like I was never enough. But then I felt embarrassed about it, and never told you. I kept taking lessons because I actually liked it, and along the way Louis and I became friends,” Harry says, and as he talks, he realizes how messed up their entire relationship was. 

And how different it is with Louis. How good. 

Bryan gapes at him, and Harry snorts, “Do you want to say something or…?”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he says, reaching out but he backs away.

“Don’t bother. I don’t need your apologies,” he shakes his head and turns around. A few weeks ago, he maybe would have wanted one, but he knows better now. 

He doesn’t turn back again, but instead climbs up the stairs to Louis’ apartment, the warmth of it seeping outside as soon as he opens the door. 

Louis is sitting on the sofa, acting like he’s watching TV, but his head snaps in the direction of the door when he hears Harry coming in. Harry strips off his jacket, leaving it where it falls to the floor, and then he’s on him, straddling his hips and slotting their mouths together and digging his fingers into Louis’ hair. 

“Wha-,” Louis starts, but is cut off and pulls Harry closer by his waist instead. 

Harry bites at Louis’ lower lip, pulls at his hair, and the noise that escapes Louis’ mouth sends shivers down his back and goes straight to Harry’s dick. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” Louis pants, “But what kind of conversation did you and Bryan have that caused this ?”

“Don’t mention him, he’s a fucking asshole,” Harry grunts, catching Louis’ lips with his again, and slips one hand under his shirt as Louis opens his mouth willingly. 

“Yeah, I think I’ve told you that before,” Louis huffs out against his lips, moving to kiss at Harry’s neck, his jaw, everywhere he can reach. 

Without really wanting to, Harry drops his head sideways, relishing the feeling of Louis’ hot mouth and his lips and his teeth scraping against his soft skin. It’s way too much and not nearly enough. 

“I didn’t know you got jealous that easily,” he says, voice hoarse but teasing. 

Louis cups his cheeks, turning Harry’s face so he’s looking directly at him, “I just hate his guts, and you deserve so much better.” 

“Jealous you is very hot,” Harry grins, and then he is kissing him again, and falls pliant under Louis’ touch. 

“Can we stop talking about your ex now?” he asks, moaning when Harry grinds down on him, “Fuck.” 

“You’re so hot, fuck,” Harry groans, starts yanking at Louis’ shirt, and Louis backs away only enough so that he can actually pull it off. They’re a mess, and Harry’s hard, and he knows Louis is too, and Louis’ mouth is hot and sloppy, and the only thought rotating around Harry’s brain is want, want, want . 

When he starts tugging at the zippers of Louis’ jeans, his hands are slapped away. “Your turn to lose some clothes,” he says, breathless, hands already halfway down Harry’s pants. 

It’s not something Louis needs to tell him twice. 

*

The next day, Harry is an hour early to pick up Louis. 

Louis had protested at the suggestion that Harry would pick him up for their date, since it means that he has to drive all the way out to the Tomlinson’s just to drive all the way back into the city, but Harry doesn’t mind. He wants to watch Louis jump anyway, and he knows he’s doing that every weekend. 

He slips into the old arena and is surrounded by the smell of bedding material immediately. The arena isn’t heated, and Harry can see his own breath lingering in the air. He leans against the wall of the bleachers, watching Louis go with Domino’s movements. 

When he jumps, he’s leaning over his neck, and when he trots, his back is straight and his arms angled in the perfect way, and it looks so easy when he does it, like it’s no effort at all. 

“Hey,” Louis stops next to Harry, Domino scraping his hooves impatiently, “you’re early, I still need to shower and get dressed.” 

“I know. Wanted to watch you jump,” he explains, reaching out to pet Domino’s fur. 

“Sap. I’ll do two more rounds, yeah?” 

“Perfect. You better impress me,” Harry teases, and Louis snorts, “I could knock down every single hurdle and you’d still think it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.” 

He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t even graze the obstacles, and it really is unfair how good he is. 

By the time he’s done, Harry is frozen to a single block of ice, and Louis shoos him inside to warm up. He follows him a few minutes later, and Harry flops down on the bed as Louis gets into the shower. 

“If you don’t hurry up I’ll fall asleep and we won’t be going anywhere,” he calls into the direction of the bathroom, where he can hear the shower running. 

“You were the one who wanted to go out, not me,” Louis yells back, and Harry groans, burying his face in the pillows. It’s impossible that Louis could hear the muffled “I know,” that comes out of his mouth then. 

The pillows smell like Louis, is the thing. And it lulls him in, the smell of vanilla perfume and fresh laundry detergent, until he’s dozed off long enough for Louis to finish his shower and get dressed in the meantime. 

“Hey, baby, are you still awake?” Louis whispers, leaning over his face and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. 

“No,” Harry mumbles but opens his eyes. Louis is wearing a wine red sweatshirt on top of a button up and blue jeans and his fringe is carefully swooped to the side, and Harry wants to kiss his face off. 

“We can still stay in if you’re that tired,” he offers, kneeling down next to him on the mattress, “I wouldn’t mind watching a movie and cuddling, if that’s what you want.”

“And watch what? One of your five movies?” Harry teases, sitting up and taking Louis’ hand, “No, I want to go. Especially when you look that good.”

Louis gets up and spins around once, blushing a little and doing jazz hands. Harry’s heart jumps happily in his chest as he watches him. 

He gets up, pulling Louis close by hooking his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, and Louis goes willingly, hands flat against Harry’s chest. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Styles,” Louis grins before leaning up at brushing his lips against Harry’s, way too shortly for his personal liking. “Let’s go, yeah?” 

*

“I’ll give you five bucks if you eat that ,” Louis giggles, pushing the last California roll to Harry’s side of the plate with his chopsticks. It leaves a trail of dark soy sauce with green wasabi spots in it behind. 

“This thing has potential to kill me,” Harry gawks, shoving it back in Louis’ direction. 

He pouts, “You know I can’t eat hot food.”

“Can I remind you that you were the one that put a mountain of wasabi on there?” He laughs, eyeing the California roll suspiciously. 

It’s a shame, really. The sushi at this place is phenomenal, and they ordered twice, even though their waiter gave them weird looks for it. And letting it go back to the kitchen would be a war crime of sorts. 

But Harry also doesn’t want to have to go to the emergency room because wasabi burned a hole into his esophagus. 

“In this house, we don’t waste food,” Louis crosses his arms in front of his chest, quiriking one eyebrow at Harry in challenge. 

“Please,” he snorts, “I watched you throw away an apple because it had a single brown spot.” 

Louis doesn’t seem to have a reply to that, just scowls at Harry for five seconds straight, who simply smiles back. 

“I don’t know about you,” he says eventually, “but I’d be willing to order desserts now.” 

“Why does that not surprise me?” Harry says, getting out of his chair, “Choose anything, I need to go to the loo real quick.” 

As he passes Louis, he stops quickly to squeeze the back of his neck once, and Louis’ hand reaches up to touch his right away, like it’s an automatism, like he has no control over it. He turns his head to grin up at Harry, and his heart stumbles for the next few beats.

Harry can’t quite believe how lucky he got. On nights like this, when everything is happy and light, and Louis tries to force-feed him wasabi while looking like something out of a dream, soft under the dim lights of the japanese restaurant they’re having dinner at. 

His smile looks too wide in the bathroom mirror, he realizes when he washes his hands, but he doesn’t care. 

When he gets back to their table, the plate with the last sushi roll is gone, and the menu is laying in front of Louis, closed. 

“What did you order?” Harry asks, sitting down, and Louis’ head snaps up, startled. 

“I, uhm,” he blinks a few times, and Harry notices how distant the expression on his face seems. 

“Hey, baby. Is everything okay?” he asks in a low voice, his hand searching for Louis’. When he finds it, he squeezes it softly. 

“Can we go someplace else? I want to show you something,” he says, and when he finally looks at Harry, he almost seems shy. 

“Of course, yeah. Let me just pay, and then we can go.” 

Louis doesn’t even argue about who’s supposed to pay the bills, just nods, and waits while Harry heads to the bar. 

They walk to Harry’s car in silence, Louis huddled up close against his side. It’s not really that this situation is unusual for them; they have moments of quiet often. But Harry is not used to Louis being so distant, so far away in his head with no way for Harry to reach him. 

“Where do you want me to drive?” he asks when they are in the car, and Louis tells him the address. 

Harry is about to complain about how that’s on the other side of town, and that he has to drive Louis back to the manor on top of that, but then there’s a light touch on his arms, and when he looks at Louis, he seems more vulnerable than ever before, so Harry just drives. 

During the last five minutes, he needs directions from Louis, he hasn’t been to this side of town often and it’s even harder to figure out the right streets in the pitch black January night.

Louis tells him to pull onto a parking lot, and Harry turns off the ignition. For a minute it’s quiet, but then he asks, “What are we doing here?” 

“I wanted you to meet my dad,” Louis says, voice tiny, and he’s staring at his hands, playing with the hem of his sweater. 

“Louis,” Harry lets out a breath and closes his eyes. 

Years later, he will always remember this moment as the moment he knew. The moment he knew that they were a forever kind of thing. 

“Please?” 

It hangs there in the air for a moment. 

“Of course,” Harry whispers and gets out of the car. He walks over to Louis’ side and opens the door for him. 

Visiting a cemetery in the middle of the night during winter is not on top of Harry’s list, but Louis’ grip on his hand is firm and secure, and he doesn’t seem intimidated at all, so Harry decides to trust him and follows his lead.

“I’m, uhm. I don’t know if this is weird or anything, but. I sort of talk to him whenever I’m here. Makes me feel like he’s actually there, you know. It’s comforting,” Louis says after they’ve walked through the rows for a few minutes.

The paths are illuminated by small lanterns that are stuck into the ground, and it’s not as creepy as Harry thought it would be. 

“That’s not weird,” he replies, squeezing his hand reassuringly. 

“Okay, just,” Louis sighs, “This isn’t exactly easy for me, so.”

“I can wait here, that’s okay. Whatever you need,” Harry says, but Louis shakes his head. “No, I dragged you here, you shouldn’t have to, you know…” 

He trails off and comes to a stop, and Harry realizes they must have reached the right grave. 

Louis says something under his breath and touches the stone with a shaky hand. 

William Tomlinson

21.05.1962 - 12.03.2010 

Father, Son, and Husband. 

“To love is to place our happiness in the happiness of another.” 

Harry swallows hard. Louis doesn’t talk about his dad often, but whenever he does, it’s obvious how close they were and how hard his death must have hit him. Harry knows this isn’t about him, but his eyes burn at the thought of Louis going through that at only eighteen. 

Harry is twenty-four, and he wouldn’t know how to deal with something like that now. 

“This is Harry,” Louis mumbles, searching for his hand again, “You really would’ve liked him.” 

“Hi,” Harry says quietly, not sure if that is even what he is meant to do. 

“I never came out to him,” Louis whispers, resting his temple against Harry’s shoulder, “but he always told me that it didn’t matter who you like, as long as they make you happy. And you make me really happy, I hope you know that.” 

Harry turns to him, eyes stinging, and cups his face. 

“Louis…” 

They don’t kiss. They just stand there for a while, God knows for how long, looking at each other without saying a word. And then Harry can’t take it anymore and hugs Louis so hard, he thinks he might accidentally break him. They’re both trembling from head to toe, which is when Harry notices that Louis is crying. 

“I’m here,” he mumbles into his ear, and he thinks Louis might be nodding, but he can’t really be sure. 

After a while, Louis’ breathing evens out and his grip on Harry relaxes. 

“I’m sorry, H. I’m not usually like this, it just,” he shrugs helplessly, “hit me today. I just miss him.” 

“He’s still here, you know. I bet he’s looking down on us right now and making fun of us for visiting his grave in the middle of the night,” Harry says softly, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist. 

“Probably,” he laughs wetly, “thank you for doing this.” 

“Always,” he replies. 

“I hate the fact that you’ll never get to know him. He was the best dad there ever was,” Louis says, and Harry can tell that he’s smiling now. 

“He taught me how to ride a horse, and played pranks with me on Lottie and Mum. On days like this I just miss him.” 

“I know you do,” Harry says, and wishes he could make it easier for him. To take away from the pain and make everything a little more bearable.

From what he knows, William died of complications while battling lupus, so it wasn’t completely unexpected. But there is nothing that can prepare you for losing your dad, Harry knows that, and when he looks at Louis now, he can tell that there are scars that even he can’t see. He can’t take them away but he can be there for Louis whenever he needs him to.

“Let’s go home,” Louis says, straightening his shoulders and waving to the gravestone for one last time. 

And Harry doesn’t even think about the fact that he’s automatically driving to the manor when Louis asks him to go home. 

Epilogue

Harry doesn’t actually hear the car pulling up in their driveway, but the dogs do. Their ears perk up, and then their paws scratch over the wooden floorboards as they run toward the door. 

“Cliff, Bruce!” Harry hisses at them when they start yapping and whining, scratching at the door. He throws a worried glance to the stairs, but everything seems to stay quiet up there. 

As soon as he opens the door for them, the dogs shoot outside towards Louis who is just now getting out of his car. Harry watches him drop his bag and kneel down to let the dogs jump all over him and lick his face. His laugh rings through the mild air of the night, and Harry has to bite back a fond smile. 

“Hi,” Louis presses a soft kiss to Harry’s cheek when he walks past him into the house, the dogs trailing after him, and Harry closes the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world. 

“How was it? Are you gonna buy it?” Harry asks. 

Louis toes off his shoes and makes his way to the kitchen. He sighs, “We’re still not sure. I really want to, but Mum’s not sure whether he’d make a good trained horse for lessons. I rode him today, and she’s not wrong, but.” He shrugs.

“You still want to,” Harry finishes. 

Jay and Louis have been looking for new trained horses to expand the stable for an eternity now, and Louis fell in love with this American Paint, but he and his mother can’t settle on whether they should go for it or not. They only have a few days left to decide, and Louis went to take another look at it today. 

“I guess so,” Louis rubs his face and leans against the counter. He looks tired. “You know I respect my Mum’s opinion, yeah? She’s done this for ages, she knows her shit. But I’m not sure if she’s right about this one. My gut tells me to go for it.” 

“Then you should go for it,” Harry shrugs. He walks over to the fridge to take out the cake frosting, Louis’ eyes following him as he does. “In the end, you’re the boss.” 

“But I don’t want her to feel like I’m pushing her out,” Louis sighs again, “Even if we ended up not using him for lessons, he’d still be a great addition, especially for more experienced riders." 

“You should just tell Jay that, she respects your opinion as much as you respect hers,” Harry says as he starts spreading the frosting on the cake. It’s chocolate, and the smell of sugar and butter still lingers in the air from when he put it in the oven earlier. 

Louis hums in agreement, and his tattooed arms wrap around Harry’s waist from behind, and he lets himself relax into the embrace. 

"Can you believe she’s already turning one?” Louis asks quietly, voice muffled from where his face is pressed into the fabric of Harry’s shirt. 

He looks down at the cake in front of him, and the yellow candle in the shape of a one that he picked up from the shops yesterday, and shakes his head, “Definitely not. I feel like she was born last week.” 

“Oliver’s gonna be three in a month, too,” Louis adds. 

“Don’t remind me,” Harry mumbles, scooping another load of frosting on the cake. 

For a while, they just stand there like that, Louis wrapped around Harry and Harry working on the cake. After a moment, Louis starts swaying them to the Adele song that’s playing on the kitchen radio, and Harry smiles to himself. 

In moments like this, he can’t quite believe how lucky he got. 

It didn’t take long for him to move in with Louis, and after that it didn’t take Louis long to get down on one knee.

And now, not that much later, they have two kids, and the third one is on the way.

“You know what’s my favorite part of the day?” Louis asks, detaching himself from Harry in favor of leaning against the counter beside him. 

“Waking up to see my pretty face right next to yours every morning?” Harry grins, quirking one eyebrow, and it earns him a smack against his shoulder from Louis. 

“I was going to say that it’s this,” he smiles, almost a little shy, “Coming home to you.”

“So it’s not seeing my face every single morning?” Harry pouts, but inside, his stomach is whirling around a little too fast. 

“Of course it’s that too,” Louis rolls his eyes, “But there’s something about evenings, I don’t know. Just me and you. I love Olli and Thea, and I want to spend every waking minute with them, but this feels special.” 

Harry turns to look at him properly. Louis changed over the last couple of years, but he’s also still the same. Lousy with tattoos, he wears vintage band shirts when he’s home and has a heart too big for life. But now he’s also this man that Harry can’t help but adore. The best dad to their kids, and he overtook the family business a year ago, managing the stables to relieve Jay, and he holds himself differently as well. More confidently, and so sure of himself and life. 

“I love you,” Harry murmurs, leaning in to kiss him. Louis’ hands wander up into Harry’s hair, softly tugging at the curls as he sighs contentedly into the kiss. It’s been years of them together like this, but Harry thinks he could never get tired of kissing Louis. Everything about Louis, really, but kissing especially. 

Olli is at that age where he seems to find love utterly repelling, starting to yell and scream as soon as Harry just comes close enough to Louis to kiss or hug him or anything like that, and while it was hilarious for the first two days, it’s a relief to not have the risk of becoming deaf right now. 

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asks when they break apart, and Harry bites his lip. “Olli.” 

“Noo,” he whines, burying his face in Harry’s shirt, “Way to ruin a moment, Styles.” 

It’s not actually Styles anymore as Harry changed his name to Tomlinson when they got married, but he lets it slide. 

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of Louis’ head. “Speaking of kids. Did Gemma call you? She told me she would tell you when she’s coming over tomorrow.” 

“Oh, yeah, she did,” Louis looks up at Harry with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “She also told me that you’re a little snitch.” 

“What did I do now?” 

“You told her the name of the baby ,” he says, exasperatedly, and hits Harry in the chest, “I thought we made a deal to keep it a secret.” 

He scowls, “No, you wanted to, and I told you that I couldn’t keep a secret to save my life.” 

Louis laughs at him, eyes crinkling. “Right.”

“I’m sorry, though,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against Louis’, “I just got too excited.”

“I know. Can’t wait to finally meet her.” 

“Me neither. Agatha Tomlinson. It even sounds adorable,” Harry smiles, and Louis just beams at him. 

“I’m so, so happy,” he whispers before leaning up to kiss him. 

And Harry is, too. 

He never could have imagined his life to turn out this wonderfully. Reality exceeds every single daydream he has ever had.