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Niall scoffed as he walked into the room, and Harry turned his head from where he was bundled up on the couch, stuffing his face with rocky road and pouting.
“You look like a little bitch,” Niall said, and Harry’s face crumpled. “Shit, man, I’m sor-” he began when he saw Harry’s defeated expression.
“Kim lost her earrings,” Harry interrupted, pointing his spoon towards the TV, where Keeping up With the Kardashians was playing.
Niall let out a pitying laugh as he made his way to the living room. “Bro, you don’t even like the Kardashians,” he said, frowning as he perched on the arm of the couch next to Harry. “You think people with reality TV shows shouldn’t have personas.”
“You’re right,” Harry said, nodding as he scooped up another spoon of ice cream.
“…So, why are you watching it?” Niall asked, his eyebrow raised. “Couldn’t find the remote?”
“It’s on the end table,” Harry said mindlessly, picking at his carton of ice cream before he sighed and put the spoon down into it.
“Can I have that if you’re done?” Niall asked, and Harry wordlessly handed it over. “So,” Niall said, his mouth already full of ice cream, “why are you watching shitty reality television alone in the apartment with comfort food and your blanket from home?”
Harry sighed and let his head drop back onto the couch. “I met a guy,” he said monotonously, thinking of the most perfect guy in the world. “We had a date.”
“That Louis guy?” Niall asked, pushing Harry over with his feet so he could sit on the cushion next to him. “So, I guess it didn’t go well?” He asked, draping his legs over Harry’s lap. His socks stunk.
“No, it went freaking perfectly,” Harry said, raising his hands up for emphasis. “He was incredible! He’s an education major, drama minor. He’s hilarious, he pulled out my chair for me, he likes my clothes and said my headscarf looked nice on me. He laughs at my jokes, he’s religious, he thinks that journalism is a great industry and that it’s not quite dying out the way everyone says it is, he’s out and his family is really accepting, he plays soccer and loves it, he likes romantic comedies –”
“Haz, I’m not seeing where the problem comes in,” Niall interrupted and Harry sort of. Exploded.
“Well, I can’t very well fucking date him, can i?” He said loudly, exasperated. “He’s out, accepted by his family, he’s had other boyfriends, he’s older, he’s. You know.”
“Is this about that sex thing again?” Niall asked, a bit of chocolate staining his lip, and Harry huffed.
“I can’t just change it,” he began hotly, but Niall’s frown turned into an offended look.
“You think I’m telling you to change, asshole?” He asked, and, right. Harry shouldn’t have assumed. Niall wasn’t his dad, or close-minded Texans, back home. “I don’t care what you’re into – or not into. You should know that by now, shithead. I don’t care if you’re not into sex, bro, but I think it’s stupid that you can’t at least talk to this guy. If he’s as cool as you say he is, then surely he’s not gonna be a dick about it, right? Worst comes to worst, he’s a little freaked out and ends it before it really begins. And if he does that, he’s a shithead and you were wrong about him, anyway. Look, I know people have probably been assholes about your sexuality, or whatever, before, but I’m not gonna be an asshole to you, and after living together for almost a year, I’d hope you’d know that.”
For all his stern words, Niall didn’t seem all that angry, but Harry still picked at a loose thread on his quilt, abashed. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s – ‘that sex thing’ is kind of. How my dad talks about it. Kinda pisses me off.”
Niall gave him a pissy look that quickly turned into a reluctant grin and a hair ruffle. “Yeah, well, your dad’s kind of an asshole,” he said, as if Harry didn’t already know. “And I’m not.”
Harry leaned into Niall’s arm, resting his head on the sleeve of his t-shirt, and sighed. “You’re right,” he said.
“I know I am,” Niall answered instantly, and Harry snorted.
“No, I mean – about Louis,” he clarified. “I should just talk to him. I’m never gonna know how he feels if I don’t let him know. I should talk to him.”
“Yes, you should,” Niall said sternly. “Now, shut the hell up. I think this is the one where Kris and the unimportant sister make fun of Kim for crying until she cries again.”
---
Harry and Louis were on their sixth date when it happened.
The thing was, Harry knew he should’ve already talked to Louis about his sexuality. He knew that Louis was sexual, from throwaway comments about past relationships, but he hadn’t had the guts to say anything.
So when Harry walked Louis up to his apartment after a great date he didn’t really want to end, Louis fiddled with his keys and asked, “Wanna come up with me?” Harry knew he should say no.
Instead, Harry’s heart raced as he licked his lips a little nervously and smiled. “Yeah, sure,” he answered, and Louis’ shy smile grew.
They walked up to the second floor and down the hallway, stopping at 215, and Harry had a wild thought that if this were a movie, he’d have shoved Louis’ front up against the door and whispered sexual things into his ear. The thought kind of made him uncomfortable. Luckily, Louis unlocked the door pretty quickly and stood aside to let Harry through, and then followed him in, turning the lights on.
The apartment was a little messy – messier than Harry’s – but it wasn’t bad, and Louis gestured Harry to the living room couch as he went to the fridge. “Want anything to drink?” He asked as he went.
“Just some water, please,” Harry said, his throat a little dry because he knew this was the time. He had to talk to Louis.
“Mind if I have a beer?” Louis called, and Harry swallowed.
“Uh, no, that’s fine,” he called back. What was he supposed to say? ‘No, don’t drink because I’m about to tell you you won’t ever get laid with me and it’s a conversation I’d rather have completely sober’? No.
When Louis came back with a bottle of water from his fridge and a beer, he sat down on the small couch next to Harry, turned a little sideways so they could see each other well. Harry thanked Louis quietly for the water and didn’t say anything else, and after a moment the silence became a little awkward. Harry took a deep breath.
“Lou-”
“Wanna watch a movie?” Louis asked, interrupting. Without answering, Louis jumped up and moved to the TV.
“Uh, sure,” Harry answered a little uncertainly.
Thirty minutes into Elysium, Louis scooted in close to Harry, who forced himself to relax. Louis was a nice guy. They’d been on six dates and he hadn’t pushed anything so far; they hadn’t even properly kissed yet, just little smooches goodbye, and stuff. He leaned into the arm Louis not-so-smoothly wrapped around his shoulder and shifted until he got comfortable, and after a few seconds, he felt Louis’ head resting on top of his own.
Towards the end of the movie, Louis got a little shifty, and Harry could tell the moment Louis stopped paying attention to the movie because he started feeling kisses being pressed against his temple, little kisses starting to be pressed down to his jaw. Harry looked up at Louis and smiled, and closed his eyes when Louis leaned in for a real kiss.
It was a good kiss, as far as kisses went, and Harry hummed into it a little bit because it felt comfortable. But when Louis kissed him a little more urgently, and his hand landed on Harry’s thigh, it stopped being so comfortable and started feeling a little off.
“Lou,” Harry said quietly, letting their kisses die down a little, but his heart started racing when Louis started sliding his hand up Harry’s thigh, and Harry backed up, ending the kisses completely. “Lou,” he said.
Louis looked a little confused, but not too put out, and Harry breathed a quiet breath of relief. “Everything okay?” Louis asked, brows drawn in concern.
Harry took a steadying breath. “I – uhm, no, not really,” he said nervously. “I’m – we have to talk.”
“Are you pregnant?” Louis asked after a beat of silence, and Harry kind of laughed because it was obvious Louis was now nervous and trying to make jokes after Harry said they needed to talk.
“No, I’m – can we talk seriously, though? I’m not mad, or anything,” he said quickly when Louis started squirming. “I’m just – I don’t want to have sex,” he blurted out, and promptly wanted to facepalm himself. Smooth, Styles.
“Oh,” Louis said, a little surprised. “Well. Okay, then. That’s – we can take it slow, Harry; I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” He looked like he felt a little guilty, and it made Harry feel bad.
Harry put a hand on Louis’ knee and scooted closer again. “No, it’s – you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, not – well, not really.” It was kind of a lie, but Harry also knew it wasn’t on purpose. Anyway, it wasn’t really the point, right then. “I’m – I’m not, uh, actually gay. Technically. Not just gay. If you really want to label it.” Louis blinked over at him, and then looked down at the hand on his knee.
“You seem pretty comfortable with guys, I have to say,” he replied, sounding a little uneasy, and Harry rushed to explain.
“No, I mean I’m – I like you – really, I do, and I think you’re great and I want to keep seeing you… I’m just not – I’m not sexual,” he said, watching Louis’ reaction carefully. “I mean, I’m not…interested. In having sex.”
Louis blinked. “At all?” He asked, and Harry bit his lip at Louis’ incredulous tone as he shook his head.
“No, not really,” he answered. “I’m – my instinct is to kind of say ‘I’m sorry’, but I’m not, actually. That’s just. I mean, you wouldn’t apologize for being gay, right? I can’t apologize for being asexual.”
“That’s it, then?” Louis asked. “That’s what it’s called? Asexual?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied, shifting to tuck his legs under himself and face Louis completely. “Asexual. It means basically like, not interested in sex. We don’t really…pursue sexual relationships.”
“So, what, like, sex grosses you out?” Louis asked, not unkindly, shifting a bit himself.
“No, I wouldn’t – I mean, I wouldn’t say that,” Harry answered, trying to think things out. “I mean, I’m just not… Like, you’re gay. Right?”
“Right…” Louis said, a little confused.
“So you’re not interested in having sex with girls,” Harry fumbled, and Louis nodded. “But does the thought completely disgust you? Like, you look at straight people and think, ‘God, what a disgusting thing they do with each other’?”
Louis laughed at that, and then looked like he felt a little guilty for laughing, so Harry laughed with him. “Right, of course you don’t, right?” Harry said through his smile, and Louis said, “No, no, I don’t,” as he laughed at the thought.
“Right,” Harry explained. He was saying ‘right’ a lot. “It’s not god-awful disgusting to think about; it’s just not your thing. Like, I’d still get hard if I, you know, tried; it’s biology. But I just don’t have an interest. It makes me a little uncomfortable to think about, like. Sex. And stuff.”
Louis stayed quiet for a moment, and Harry chewed his lip. “So…are you saying you don’t – want to be with me? Because I do like sex?”
Harry sighed, and propped his elbow up on the back of the couch, leaning his head in his hand. “It’s not really a matter of wanting to be with you,” he explained, “because I do. I mean, I am interested in you; I’d date you in a heartbeat. I’d like to kiss you and hold your hand and snuggle with you, and stuff. I’d like to be your boyfriend. But you have to understand, I couldn’t – I mean, I won’t…we’re not going to have sex. Like, it’s – I don’t want it. I don’t want to have sex, and I probably never will, and it’s not like there’s something wrong with me, that’s just how I am, and you won’t be able to change that. And I’d prefer it if you didn’t try.”
The whole thing was making Harry uncomfortable, but when Louis lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him closer, Harry let him do it. Louis turned him around a bit and let Harry rest his back against his chest, and fiddled with his hands.
“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, resting his head against the side of Harry’s. “I don’t think there is. There’s nothing wrong with me being gay, and there’s nothing wrong with you being – asexual.” He took a deep breath, and his exhaled air hit Harry’s cheek as they both sat, thinking separately. Finally, Louis said, “I’d like to try being with you. I really like you, and I have for a while before I got the balls to ask you out. And I definitely – I mean, I want to learn, and, like understand. I know being a part of the LGBTQ life style should have taught me more, but I – I don’t know, I guess I only really paid attention to stuff that was relevant to me, and, like, enough to hopefully not offend anyone. But I want to – I mean, I want to learn; I want to understand so I can be good to you. I guess I’m just asking you to, like, be patient, if I stay something stupid, or whatever.”
Harry shifted against Louis’ back and rested his head back on Louis’ shoulder, kissing his cheek. “There’s not really a lot of rules. Well, for me, I guess; I don’t know about anyone else. I just – I mean, obviously, don’t push sex on me.”
“Obviously,” Louis repeated, and pushed Harry’s index finger up.
“Uhm, and, like, don’t be pissed off or think I was teasing you, or something, if I stop kissing you, or whatever…because I can guarantee, I have no interest in teasing you or leading you on. That gets people like me beat up in school; I know better.”
Louis made an unhappy sound at the implication, but he pushed up Harry’s middle finger. “Of course,” he said.
Harry hesitated before he said the second one, unsure if it should be said or not; Louis had said he was pretty old-fashioned and liked to keep private things private… Finally, he said, “Don’t – uhm, I know it’s kind of…embarrassing, I guess, for some guys to tell their friends they aren’t getting any even though they’re in a relationship, but…don’t make up a sex life to tell your friends. That’s – that’s really disrespectful, and I don’t –”
“God, has someone done that to you?” Louis said, pulling his head back a little so he didn’t yell in Harry’s ear. Harry sat and nodded, a little sadly, thinking back to his first boyfriend in high school. That had broken his heart. “That’s so –” Louis took a deep breath, and pushed Harry’s ring finger up. “What else?” He asked, his voice much calmer than it had been a few seconds before.
Harry smiled privately, just to himself, and said, “I – think that’s all, really. Like, other than things like, ‘don’t call me a freak because I don’t like sex’, but I feel like you probably already know that.”
Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s stomach and squeezed him close, resting his head back against Harry’s again. “Of course,” he said. “Uh, and – you’ll tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, right? Like, if you didn’t like me touching you like this –”
“I can promise, I’ll let you know,” Harry assured him sincerely. “I’ve had to figure stuff out on my own a lot about these kinds of things,” he explained. “I won’t let you take advantage, whether it’s on purpose or accident.” To soften the vaguely threat-esque sounding comment, he covered Louis’ arms with his own. “Like I said,” he added, “I love snuggling and stuff. There just kind of has to be a line. We’ll figure it out.”
---
“So, have you ever…?” Louis asked, his arms around Harry where they lay on Harry’s bed, watching a movie. Louis had paused it out of nowhere, and now Harry laughed at his one-track mind.
“I mean, I’ve – done…stuff, before, when I was trying to figure it all out, but it just. It felt really, really wrong. Like, not – I mean, I can…myself, you know, sometimes, but it’s sort of more, like. ‘Right, well, gotta wash my hair, brush my teeth, touch ‘em so they don’t turn blue, brush my hair…’ Like that.”
“I didn’t – alright, don’t hate me; this is probably one of those things people say all the time, but I didn’t know asexual people got themselves off,” Louis said, and Harry laughed a little, because, well, yeah. That was something people said a lot.
“It’s not…like, for me, it’s not so much ‘getting myself off’; it’s kind of. Like a chore, or something. Something you learn you’re supposed to do every day – like, shower – except I don’t – I mean, I don’t every day.”
Louis was quiet for a little, so Harry huffed out a laugh and turned around, wrapping their legs together and resting his head on his folded up arm. Louis held onto him, though he was frowning as he thought. “What’s goin’ on in that beautiful mind?” Harry sang out to make him stop.
True to form, Louis grinned, but his frown was back in a second. “It’s just – you masturbate,” he said slowly, and Harry nodded. “I didn’t know you did that,” he said.
Harry laughed. “I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you,” he said lightly, though he hoped this conversation wouldn’t turn into an argument.
Luckily, Louis just snorted and rolled his eyes. “Not supposed to do anything,” he scoffed, but then he got a little serious again. “I just – you know, I didn’t know… I mean, I do that,” he said.
“I know,” Harry reminded him with a smile. Louis got off at least once a day – sometimes he’d use Harry’s bathroom. Harry liked to make light-hearted jokes about Louis, with his sex drive, dating an asexual person.
“Right,” Louis said seriously. “But, like, you – I don’t know, I guess I kind of wondered…why? Like, why I didn’t know you get off sometimes, even though we know I do it, too?”
“Well,” Harry said a little thoughtfully, shifting around, “it’s not really the same thing for us. I mean, sure, we both – you know, we both masturbate, but it’s – I mean, for you, isn’t it more, like, about pleasure, and orgasms, and stuff?”
“Yeah,” Louis answered, watching Harry.
“Well, it’s – for me, like I said, it’s more like. I mean, it’s not bad when I do it, it’s just not. Like, I’m not into it. You don’t – I mean, you wouldn’t get turned on when you’re brushing your teeth or clipping your toenails, right?” Louis snorted, and Harry laughed a little desperately with him. He hated having to explain this stuff. “Well – that’s kind of how it is for me. Just like, another thing I know I’m supposed to do to take care of myself. It’s not about the pleasure. Not for me, at least.”
“So – and don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking for it – but, you – in theory, if it’s not awful to do it to yourself…” Louis said, and Harry could see the gears turning.
“I’ve tried it,” he said a little flatly. “It doesn’t work that way. Like, it doesn’t – it’s kind of just, meh, when I do it, but the second someone else tries to – it feels wrong. I don’t like it, I don’t want it, I don’t need it.”
“Sorry,” Louis said instantly. “I didn’t mean to upset you – I – like I said, I wasn’t asking you to – I’m happy with our relationship the way it is, Harry, I swear. I was just wondering, like. I just want to understand all I can.”
Harry took a deep breath and nodded, knowing it was true. Louis was just curious and rather blunt. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and let Louis pull him close to apology-cuddle him. “I know you weren’t trying to weasel your way into my pants.”
“Good,” Louis said, and the fact that he genuinely sounded relieved, like he was worried Harry really thought he would try that, only reaffirmed Harry’s faith that Louis was simply trying to learn more.
---
“I don’t know what you want from me, Louis,” Harry said, frustrated. “I’m not a fucking dictionary just because I’m not sexual; it’s not like anyone’s ever written an asexuals for dummies for me to read to you!”
Louis sighed and shook his head, looking over his shoulder as he moved into the next lane. “I’m not asking you to give me all the answers, Harry; I’m asking you to explain things when I don’t understand! How am I going to not disre-fucking-spect you if I don’t know how?!”
“Why should I have to explain things?” Harry asked, his voice a bit too loud. “Why can’t you just accept that when I say don’t, it fucking means don’t?”
“I do accept it!” Louis shouted, and Harry knew if he weren’t driving, he’d be glaring. “Of course, I accept it, because I fucking love you! I’m just trying to understand; if there’s a particular reason you don’t want me doing something, maybe I can avoid doing something else you might not like because it stems from that same reason!”
“Well, forget it,” Harry said, his voice back to normal as he glared out the window. “I don’t have to give you a reason every time you want one. Just accept that I don’t like things. That’s what I want you to do. If you can’t do that, then leave.”
It was silent in the car as Louis kept driving, and Harry wanted to cry, a little bit. He knew he was being a dick. To be fair, so was Louis, but he didn’t mean to tell Louis to leave.
Still, he was in the right. It was his sexuality; he didn’t owe Louis answers every time something didn’t make sense to his sexual mind.
After a few minutes, Louis sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t ask you to explain yourself to me all the time. I know it’s not something easily explained. I hope you know what when I ask you for answers, it comes from an honest place – it comes from a place of love – but I shouldn’t make you feel like you’re questioned every time you ask me to do something, or not to do something. I’m sorry.”
Harry bit his lip and kept staring out the window. He was still angry, and he didn’t want to be forgiving Louis simply to keep him; he had to think it out and make sure that wasn’t what he was doing. Finally, though, Harry nodded. “I forgive you,” he said, and chose his next words carefully. “I know it’s not really…I know it doesn’t make sense, a lot of times. Not in a world where sex is kind of everywhere, and everything. I know it’s hard to understand all the why’s and the when’s and the how’s, and I’m sorry I get so touchy about you asking. I know you’re only doing it to look out for me, and to prevent uncomfortable moments between us. …I just – it’s hard to explain. It’s kind of…because I don’t understand your views just as much as you don’t understand mine. I don’t get why sex is a natural human urge to most people, when it’s like… I don’t even know how to explain it. That’s – I mean, most of the reason I get so pissed off is, like, even though I know you’re not trying to do it, when you question me, or my sexuality, it kind of feels like I keep having to justify it over and over again, and that’s – like you said, I shouldn’t have to feel that way. Not with anyone, but especially not with you. And constantly being questioned makes me feel like a freak, or, like, a lab rat, or something. And I don’t like it. …But I also get so frustrated because it’s like…if I asked you to define the word ‘the’. It would drive you insane, trying to explain it. Like, because you know it. Everyone who understands English it knows it. And it doesn’t – like, how can you explain something that, when you really think about it, doesn’t even really make that much sense to you? Like, it just is. That’s…that’s how it feels, when you ask me why, or how, or when, or what if.”
Louis took that all in, still driving, eventually, he reached for Harry’s hand, folded their fingers together, and squeezed. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Harry nodded, tight-lipped and frustrated that God had given him this incredible man – who wanted to know him so that he could love Harry as much as possible – but had also given him this incredible, strange, inexplicable sexuality to go with it.
When they finally got to Niall’s party, Louis squeezed Harry’s hand when Harry reached for the door to get out. Harry turned and looked at him questioningly, and Louis leaned forward to brush his lips against Harry’s. He rested their foreheads together and took a deep breath, and breathed out, “I love you so much I want to light you on fire, sometimes.”
Harry snorted and cupped Louis’ cheek, pulling away to look him in the eye. “I don’t think that’s quite what you were supposed to say,” he told him with amusement in his voice, “but thanks for trying.”
Louis laughed and leaned in for another kiss, and squeezed his hand one last time before getting out and following Harry into the party.
Everything would be fine.