Archive of Our Own ^beta

February 9, 2015

“Hello, have a candy! Enjoy the rest of your day!”

The girl smiles as she accepts the heart-shaped sweet, eyes brightening as she reads the message written on front in icing: you look lovely today. Harry gives himself a pat on the back as he watches her walk away, happy and satisfied that he made another person smile.

It’s day one of the Student Council’s Valentines project in which volunteers hand out small gifts to students around campus, and Harry is feeling really great. He first heard of the project from his friend Liam, who is a member of the Council, and after learning that it’s going to be a Valentines thing he immediately signed up as a volunteer. His other friend, Niall, had simply raised an eyebrow at his decision to participate since there’s really nothing to gain from this other than the “pure joy and satisfaction of making strangers smile by reminding them that love is well and alive” (those are Harry’s exact words), but Harry just brushed him off and called him a non-believer.

He’s always been in love with love, is the thing.

When he was five and could barely add single digits without using his fingers, his mum would read fairytales to him and Gemma after tucking them into bed, and he’d be fascinated by the stories of princes battling with dragons and rescuing princesses from high towers. During free days from school they would build blanket forts in the living room and put Disney films on, and Harry would always sing out loud to The Little Mermaid because it’s his favorite. Most of his days growing up into a preteen had been spent marathoning chick flicks with Gemma whenever she was feeling sad, tucked together in her bed with tubs of ice cream and empty chocolate wrappers scattered around them, and Harry would watch intently and sometimes even shed a few tears when the two leads in the movie finally confessed their never-ending love for each other and kissed.

So yes, from an early age Harry had been fascinated with love, had been dead set on finding the one for him and living happily together and having maybe a dozen babies. There’s a reason Niall calls him a sap, even though Harry prefers the term “romantic.” He’s a big believer.

Of course, Harry isn’t that naïve. He’s sixteen years old, has seen failed marriages, has heard of messy breakups and broken hearts that take ages to heal. He knows that love isn’t exactly perfect, but that doesn’t really dampen his enthusiasm for spreading love and finding his own. He believes in second chances, too—after all, his mum had found love again in his stepdad, Robin, and now they’re both happy. Harry likes to believe that love is just out there, and that there’s a happy ending for everyone.

So really, Harry is having tons of fun. Especially since he’s already made more than a dozen people smile with the candies he’s handed out.

He straightens up even more with a newfound determination, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a nod. He wore one of his best jumpers today instead of the usual sweater vests and button-ups so that he’ll be more comfortable standing around, and he has three dozen more sweets in a paper bag. He is ready for this. Today he is an angel of love, and he will make—

Someone suddenly claps him on the shoulder, making him jump, nearly dropping the sweets.

When he spins around he sees Niall standing there, backpack slung over one shoulder and bag of potato crisps in his hands. Harry places a hand on his chest, perhaps a bit dramatically. “You scared me.”

Niall just shrugs, offering Harry some of the crisps. “You done here? I wanna watch the team practice.”

Harry glances at his wristwatch. “No, I still have half an hour to go.” He raises his eyebrows when Niall pouts at him. “What? You can watch the team practice by yourself if you really want to.”

“And here I thought you were supposed to be the incredibly smart one,” Niall deadpans.

“Hey,” Harry frowns, placing a hand on his hip. “I don’t get why you’re like this. Just go.”

“You don’t understand,” Niall groans, looking like he’s about to start stomping his feet like a child if he doesn’t get his way.

“Yes I do,” Harry retorts. “I understand everything perfectly. Now go on, Zayn’s probably wondering where you are.”

Niall mutters something too low for Harry to catch, before he’s narrowing his eyes. “He’s not waiting for me.”

“You know he is,” Harry counters. “That boy’s got a crush on you just as bad.”

Niall turns a little red, but he doesn’t really deny it. Harry smiles, smug. For the past few months, Niall and one of the footie players, Zayn, have been dancing around each other. It’s really cute to watch, if not sickeningly sweet, how they both turn blushy and heart-eyed whenever they interact. They’ve developed this weird kind of friendship where Niall goes to the football field to watch Zayn practice every afternoon, and afterwards the two of them hang out at one of the nearby food places. Harry usually tags along to offer Niall some moral support, but only during practice time. He doesn’t want to interfere on their afternoon not-dates (“They’re not dates, Harry, it’s just two mates hanging out, shut up.” “Whatever you say, Niall.”).

And. If he’s going to be honest, he has another reason for joining Niall in watching the team—

“C’mon Haz, Louis’ going to be there,” Niall says, bringing Harry out of his thoughts, and. There it is. That’s the other reason, right there.

Louis Tomlinson. Captain of the football team, president of the drama club, and possible love of Harry’s life. Okay, so maybe he’s being a bit hypocritical here since he’s also yet to act on his feelings for the footie captain, but. He’s just waiting for the right moment, okay.

“Of course he’s going to be there,” he scoffs, trying to sound casual and not like his heart rate’s picked up just by the meres mention of Louis’ name. “He’s kinda an important part of the team, unless you’ve forgotten.”

Niall makes an impatient noise and pulls his phone out to check the time. “Practice is already starting, Harry.”

A girl passes by at that moment, looking down at the ground and muttering what sounds like Physics formulas under her breath as she walks. Harry turns away from Niall abruptly and pulls a candy from the paper bag. “Hi there!” he greets brightly.

The girl looks up, startled. Her eyes narrow suspiciously so Harry hurries out to say, “Would you like a candy?” He smiles and points at the Student Council logo on the paper bag to show that he means no harm and that this is all an Official Thing.

The girl takes the candy after a second, smiling a little. “Thank you.”

“No problem!” Harry smiles even wider and waves as she starts walking away. “Have a nice day!” When he turns back around, Niall is frowning at him. Harry frowns back. “What?”

Niall huffs and turns around. “Fine, I’m going without you. Have fun handing out candies.” And then he’s walking away, not even waiting for Harry to respond.

“I’ll just drop by once I’m done here!” Harry calls after him.

“Whatever!” Niall shouts back, and then he’s turning the corner of the building and off to the football pitch, out of sight.

* * *

Harry has three sweets left by the end of the hour, and he’s told that he can keep them for himself if he wants. After getting thanked for his cooperation and Harry reassuring them that he’d be back tomorrow, he steps out of the Student Council room and heads to the football pitch.

The team’s still practicing by the time he gets to the pitch, half of them running laps around the field while the other half passes a football back and forth. He spots Zayn first, kicking a ball around and glancing over towards the stands every now and then. Harry doesn’t need to look to know that Niall’s sitting there. He scans the field of players until his gaze lands on Louis, who’s running ahead of his teammates as they do laps, and Harry just watches him for a moment.

It’s amazing how fast of a runner Louis is considering he’s got shorter legs than most of the team, but there he is anyway, leading everyone else effortlessly. He’s in joggers because of the cold weather and it’s a bit of a shame, really, since Louis’ got the best thighs Harry’s ever seen on anyone, thick and muscled and strong-looking, and they look incredible in football shorts. He’s wearing the team’s jersey and a beanie is shoved over his hair, and Harry sighs like a schoolgirl with a playground crush.

For all the encouraging talks he gives Niall about going for it and following his heart, Harry has yet to take his own advice. And it’s not that Harry thinks he doesn’t have a chance, because everyone has a chance, but. It’s just that he always turns into a bit of a blushing, stuttering mess whenever Louis so much as gives him one of his lovely crinkly-eyed smiles, turning Harry’s brain into mush, which makes it difficult enough for Harry to hold a conversation, much less flirt.

Sighing, he looks down at the three remaining candy hearts in his hand, reading over the little messages written on them. You’re amazing. I hope you smiled today. Someone cares about you. Louis is amazing, Harry thinks. He also hopes the older boy smiled today, because Louis should be smiling all the time. Harry also cares about him a lot, because they’re kinda friends, at some level. Louis should get lovely little messages like these everyday.

It’s then that the idea hits him.

He looks up quickly. The team’s still practicing, and it doesn’t look like they’ll be done for a little while more, which gives Harry just enough time if he’s going to go through with this. He bites his lip, thinking about it for a second. It’s a bit risky, and he’s not even sure if the team’s locker room is unlocked, but.

Screw it, he thinks, making up his mind. When it comes to love, risks have to be taken. If Ariel could give up her voice just to have legs and be with Eric, then Harry can do a little sneaking around.

Glancing around him to make sure no one’s looking, Harry heads for the locker room. He finds that the door is unlocked, and he only hesitates for a second before he pushes inside. He’s perfectly aware of how… weird this might look if anyone were to catch him, but. Harry’s feeling a little braver today.

He’s never been inside the locker room before. There are benches in front of the rows of lockers and there’s a door at the back of the room that Harry suspects leads to the showers. There are also clothes and towels scattered everywhere on the floor, and Harry wrinkles his nose slightly at all the mess.

There’s no other person inside, thankfully, and Harry sets about looking for which locker belongs to Louis.

He quickly finds the one labeled TOMLINSON, L. and he lets out a little fist pump of victory, before his expression falls back into a worried one. For a second, he wonders about how he’s going to get the candies inside, but then he sees that there’s no lock. He blinks and pulls at the locker door, and it opens easily.

Okay. Either the team is really low on funds and cannot afford to have locks on their lockers, or Louis is just really careless that he just leaves his locker open for anyone who might come in to snoop. Or maybe today is really just Harry’s lucky day, and the gods of love are smiling down at him. Either way, Harry places the candies inside quickly, catching a whiff of Louis’ body spray and making him feel pleasantly dizzy for a second, before he’s closing the door and sneaking back out hurriedly.

The team’s just finishing with practice, huddled around their coach, and Harry hurries over to the stands to avoid suspicion. Getting seen loitering near the lockers is the last thing he wants right now.

Niall raises an eyebrow at him once he approaches, munching on the last of his crisps. “You’re late. Like, very late. The practice is over.”

Harry shrugs, trying to look apologetic. “Sorry.”

Niall watches him for a short moment, before pulling him in with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Oh well, don’t worry about it. Did you have fun handing out candies?”

At that, Harry nods enthusiastically, smiling. “Very much, yes. I made dozens of people smile today!”

Niall smiles as well, and Harry knows it’s because no matter how much shit Niall gives him sometimes (or, like, most of the time) he’s still endlessly fond of his best friend. “That’s great, H. As long as you’re happy.”

The players start heading back to the lockers, and Harry bites his lip a little anxiously. Niall is talking about the practice as he leads them down the stands, arm still thrown around him. Harry keeps his eyes on the players the entire time, gaze locked on Louis who’s walking behind the group, laughing at something Zayn seems to be saying.

So of course, when he glances up at the stands, he immediately catches Harry looking at him.

Harry blushes at being caught staring, but Louis just smiles brightly and waves at him so he guesses it’s okay. He waves back shyly, and Louis smiles wider.

“Zayn and I are hanging out for a bit after this,” Niall says once they’re back down on the grounds. “Do you want to join us, maybe? I think Louis will be coming, too.”

Harry thinks about Louis right now. He’s probably getting in the showers at this very moment, washing away the day’s sweat off of him, and Harry wonders what his reaction would be once he finds the candies in his locker. Would he be surprised? Would he think it’s sweet? Or would he be creeped out? Maybe he’d think he has a secret admirer. But what if he somehow finds out that Harry is the one who left it there?

He shakes his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. No use stressing about it now that he’s gone and done it. He just has to hope for the best.

With that, he turns back to Niall and smiles apologetically. “I’m not sure if I can.”

“Oh c’mon, Harry,” Niall says, nudging Harry with his shoulder. Harry stumbles a little, hand flying up to his face to make sure his glasses don’t fall off. “It’ll be fun. Been a while since we just hung out.”

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but then Louis and Zayn are suddenly approaching, fresh from the showers. Well, that was quick.

Harry straightens up and adjusts his glasses, tugging on his jumper a bit self-consciously and trying not to stare at how Louis’ golden skin still looks a little damp, hair dripping slightly. He’s so utterly gorgeous Harry barely manages to stop his breath from catching audibly.

“Hazza!” Louis greets brightly, throwing an arm around Harry and doing nothing to help his breathing and calm his racing heart.

This. This is the reason why Harry can’t be around Louis much. Already he can feel butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, warmth spreading from where Louis’ touching him, heart doing little skips in his chest. It’s a bit ridiculous but Harry can’t help it, especially not when Louis is this close and smells strongly of fresh soap and his body spray, not when he’s giving Harry one of his softer smiles, not when he’s calling Harry by that endearingly dumb nickname that only he uses (sometimes it’s Harold, which is just as endearingly dumb).

Harry is a goner.

“Are you joining us, then?” Louis asks in that high and lovely voice of his, not removing his arm from around Harry.

“Yes,” Harry answers immediately, cheeks flushed. He can practically hear Niall rolling his eyes behind him, but he’s not really all that bothered since Louis’ smiling brilliantly at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and hiding the blue in them.

“Brilliant, let’s go then.”

* * *

They’re at a cheap diner sharing chips and chicken wings, Louis talking excitedly about their new training routine. He’s sitting directly across from Harry, right beside Zayn, and he’s making these animated hand gestures as he shares how much better he enjoys practice recently.

Harry is only half-paying attention to the actual words coming out of Louis’ mouth, if he’s going to be honest. He’s more busy soaking in the sound of Louis’ voice, bright and excited and happy. Plus it’s not like he knows anything about the technicalities of football, since he prefers just watching, so none of whatever Louis is saying would make sense to him even if he were paying attention, anyway.

Zayn’s nodding his agreement every now and then while Niall is busy with the chicken wings, and for a moment Harry wishes they just got separate tables so it’ll feel more like a date. Not that this is a double date, of course, but. It’s nice to pretend sometimes.

Louis stops talking when their waitress arrives with Niall’s milkshake.

“Isn’t that too sweet, mate?” Zayn asks once the waitress leaves, watching Niall suck on the straw happily.

“Not really,” Niall shrugs, before offering the milkshake to Zayn, “d’you wanna try for yourself?”

Harry feels like he’s invading a little as he watches Zayn’s lips close around the straw, eyes locked on Niall with this soft expression. He and Louis should’ve really gotten a separate table.

Zayn smacks his lips together loudly when he pulls back, before nodding. He smiles, aimed at Niall, and says, “Yeah, just the right amount of sweet.” Niall blushes and smiles as well, and they just stare at each other across the table for a moment. Harry thinks he and Louis could leave right now and they wouldn’t even notice.

“Speaking of sweet,” Louis says, making everyone look at him and effectively reminding Niall and Zayn of their presence. He grabs his bag from the floor and pulls something from the pocket, Harry’s breath catching in his throat when he sees that it’s the candies he left for him. “Someone put these in my locker.”

Harry sees Niall’s eyes widen and he elbows him not-so-subtly on the side before he can even think of saying anything. Niall makes a small noise of pain and turns to look at Harry with a glare. Harry just kicks him under the table and hopes he understands his message to not say anything god damn it.

“Are those candies?” Zayn asks, oblivious to the exchange that just happened in front of him, eyes locked on the sweets. He grins. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, Lou.”

Louis shrugs, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Bit creepy since they probably had to sneak into the locker room for this, but I think it’s sweet anyway.”

Harry’s emotions are a whirlwind right now, going from sad and defeated to encouraged and accomplished in less than five seconds. Louis thinks it’s a bit creepy, but also sweet. He’s managed to do something right. He just hopes it doesn’t show on his face, because he doesn’t want Louis knowing that those are from him just yet.

If only Niall could shut his goddamn mouth.

“Aren’t those the candies the Student Council was handing out?”

Harry is going to kill him.

Louis just looks confused, though. “Student Council?”

“Yeah. They have this Valentines thing, don’t they?” Zayn supplies. “I think Liam told me about it.”

“Oh,” Louis says, before glancing at Harry. For a second Harry thinks Louis already connected the dots and somehow found out in the span of three seconds that the candies are from Harry, but then Louis’ grinning mischievously and wiggling his eyebrows playfully. “Looks like I’ve got a secret admirer, eh, Haz? Who do you think it could be?”

Harry says the first thing that comes to mind. “Could be anyone, really. I mean, you’re pretty popular. You’ve got tons of admirers, probably.”

Louis raises an eyebrow at that, smiling amusedly. “Tons?”

Harry nods, not even sure of what he’s saying anymore, mouth working without his permission. “Oh yes. Lots and lots. Everyone loves you, Louis. As they should.”

“You’re cute,” Louis says, snorting this adorable little laugh, before reaching over and pinching Harry’s cheek. Harry is ascending. The gods of love really are smiling down at him today. The tables have been turned—Zayn and Niall could leave any moment now and Harry wouldn’t even notice.

However, the moment is unfortunately cut short by the sudden ringing of a phone, and Louis pulls back (Harry feels like he’s been suspended blissfully in the air for all of five seconds before he comes crashing back down to reality the moment Louis’ dainty fingers leave his skin) and takes his phone from his pocket. He reads over the message and groans, before pocketing his phone back and picking his bag up from the floor.

“Sorry to leave so suddenly, but I gotta go.”

“Is everything alright?” Zayn asks, looking concerned.

Louis nods, though there’s a worried furrow between his brows. “Yeah, just—Daisy’s gone down with a fever and wouldn’t stop crying. Lottie says she’s asking for me, so I have to make sure she’s okay.” He pulls his backpack up one shoulder and smiles apologetically at everyone, before turning around and waving. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, yeah? Bye!”

Harry watches him go and sighs just a little wistfully. Louis’ such a great person, really. He obviously cares so much about his family, especially his little sisters. Add that to Harry’s ever-growing list of why Louis Tomlinson is perfect—incredibly charming, very handsome, talented in different fields like sports and music and acting, witty, and cares a lot about the people who are close to him—and Harry’s so, so gone.

He’s brought out of his daydreaming by Niall whacking him on the back of his head. “Ow, what the—what was that for?”

“You’re an idiot,” Niall declares. Zayn snorts, clearly amused, and. Right. They’re both still here. “Why didn’t you just tell him those came from you?”

Harry turns to Niall with wide eyes. He’s really going to kill him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wait, those came from you?” Zayn asks.

“No,” Harry says at the same time Niall nods, “Yes.” He’s already formulating a plan of how he can get to Niall tonight.

Zayn looks back and forth between the two of them, before his gaze eventually settles on Harry. “Do you like Louis, then?” he asks, curiously, and.

Harry’s always been a shit liar, is the thing. So he just slumps on top of the table and says, helpless and hopeless, “Yes, yes I do. I like him a lot. I like him very much.”

He thinks Zayn and Niall are laughing at him. Harry needs new friends. “Well, are you going to keep up with this secret admirer thing, then?” Zayn asks, and his head snaps up from the table.

“What?”

“Because I can help you,” Zayn offers, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

“For real?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, mate. And I won’t tell Lou, I promise.”

Harry loves him. “I love you.”

Zayn laughs, looking a little surprised but pleased all the same. “Yeah, okay. I love you, too, man.”

“So!” Niall says loudly, clapping his hands together. “Shall we make a master plan, then? Operation Get Harry To Woo Louis Before Valentines Day is in order?”

Zayn nods, leaning forward with a grin, as though they’re actually planning something incredibly Top Secret. “I’m in.”

Harry takes it back. He’s perfectly fine with the friends he has now.

February 10, 2015

“Harry, hurry the fuck up.”

Making sure one last time that this is the table Zayn told him to put the chocolate bars on top of, Harry turns around and makes his way over to the front door of the classroom where Niall is standing on lookout. Niall raises an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘all good?’ and Harry just nods, lower lip caught between his teeth.

They start walking away from the room just as they see a couple of older students approaching. Niall has to keep a steady grip on Harry’s arm the entire time just to keep him from falling over with how nervous he is, and Harry is thankful that his best friend has learned to read him and give him the support he needs without having to voice it. They turn the corner and climb down the stairs, before stopping at the line of lockers along the first floor hallway.

Niall pulls out his phone, probably to text Zayn that they did it.

Meanwhile Harry tries to compose himself for his final class of the day and the hour of chocolate-giving that’ll follow.

“Zayn says they’re almost in the room,” Niall informs, eyes glued to his phone. There’s a small smile playing on his lips that makes Harry think that’s not the only thing Zayn said, but he decides not to prod this time. He’s still too busy trying to calm down the flutters in his stomach.

They should probably start heading to their own classes as well, but they stay standing in front of the lockers, waiting for Zayn to text them more updates. Students pass by them in varying degrees of haste, and Harry passes the time by trying to even his breathing and mentally reciting the trigonometric functions he jotted down on index cards the night before.

“They’re in the room now and Louis got the chocolates,” Niall says, making Harry hold his breath. He reads over the text silently for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, before an amused smile takes over his face and he looks at Harry with this gleam in his eyes.

“What?” Harry croaks, wincing at the sound of his own voice. He clears his throat and tries again. “What did he say?”

Instead of answering, Niall just turns his phone so that the screen is facing Harry. Harry adjusts his glasses and reads over the text.

lou is surprised but he looks pretty happy . i say this is a success, tell h that he’s done good ! :)

Harry breathes out a relieved sigh, cheeks feeling warmer. He’s about to tell Niall to text Zayn a thank you when another message from the older boy comes in.

also is that a yes saturday night ? we can have dinner anywhere you want, but i’m paying xx

Harry’s eyes widen, and he quickly flicks his gaze up to Niall’s face. Niall frowns, turning the phone back to him, and then suddenly his pale cheeks are turning the reddest Harry’s ever seen them. “Fuck, you weren’t supposed to see that last part.”

Harry can’t believe this. He wants to laugh and clap his hands in glee for his friend, but Niall glares at him before he can do either of those two. So he just settles with beaming and pulling the blond in for a hug. “I’m happy for you, Ni!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says offhandedly, though Harry can tell that he’s incredibly flustered at the moment. “So we’re going out, no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Harry demands, pulling away and holding Niall by the shoulders. “Are you kidding me? This is great! Tell me how it goes, yeah?”

Niall flicks him on the forehead, but there’s a fond smile on his face anyway. “Go worry about your own lovelife before mine, idiot.”

Harry blushes at that, opening his mouth to say something back, but then the bell is ringing and then they’re both running to class.

* * *

Harry quickly runs out of chocolate bars that day, finishing up around twenty minutes in. He suspects that it’s probably because more students are now aware of their Valentines project, and also everyone loves chocolates, so more people approached him asking if they could have some.

He’s heading back to report to the Council when someone calls him, and when he turns around he sees Louis walking towards him, grinning. Harry’s heart rate picks up like it always does whenever Louis is within a ten-foot radius, and he smiles and offers a shy wave.

“Where are you going to?” Louis asks curiously once he’s standing in front of Harry, gaze falling on the empty paper bag Harry is holding. “What’s that?”

“Um, nothing,” Harry says, placing his hands behind him so that the paper bag’s out of sight. “And, uh, nowhere. I’m heading nowhere. Just, uh, walking around, really.” He’s not really sure why he’s keeping his after-school activities a secret from Louis, but. He just has this feeling that he should keep quiet about it at the moment.

Louis looks like he doesn’t really believe Harry, but fortunately he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Well, I was just heading to the pitch for footie practice. I was wondering if you’d like to watch today?”

Harry has to try very, very hard to keep himself from screaming and to make sure his expression doesn’t show just how much he wants to melt into a puddle by Louis’ feet at the invitation. He somehow manages, only sounding a little eager when he says, “Yeah, of course, absolutely.”

Louis smiles, and it feels a little like walking out into the streets and feeling sunshine against his skin for the very first time after days of rain. “Ace. I’ll see you on the stands in a bit, then?”

Harry nods quickly, glasses going askew at the movement. He reaches up to right them but Louis beats him to it, dainty fingers straightening his glasses back onto his face. Harry can’t breathe—Louis’ fingers barely touch his skin, but he can still feel it, like his senses are suddenly hyperaware of what’s going on. He’s pretty sure his face is on fire now and his mouth is probably open.

“There,” Louis says, smiling that crinkly-eyed smile of his, and Harry can’t get enough air into his lungs.

Later, when he’s sitting on the stands beside Niall and watching the team practice, he can’t help but notice how Louis keeps on glancing up at the stands every couple of minutes, as though he’s making sure Harry’s still there.

Harry is smiling the entire time. As if he’s going anywhere.

February 11, 2015

Day three comes with roses, and Harry spends his lunch break sitting behind the campus’ main building carefully picking out the thorns on the stems of the flowers he’s going to hand out that afternoon. Liam told him he doesn’t have todo that, but Harry had insisted that it’s fine. He doesn’t want people to prick their fingers and hurt themselves, not when the purpose of this entire project is to make them happy in the first place.

So after gathering the roses from the Student Council room and hurriedly eating the chicken sandwich his mum packed for him, Harry headed straight towards the secluded spot behind the main building to work.

Niall and Zayn find him, somehow. Harry doesn’t really question it.

“So it’s roses for today?” Zayn asks, leaning against the wall and nodding at the pile of roses that Harry’s already removed the thorns from, while Niall sits cross-legged on the concrete in front of him. “Where should we leave them?”

Harry shrugs in response, biting down on his lip. The truth is he’s been thinking about a plan all night, but he still hasn’t come up with anything. He’s not very creative, apparently.

“Why don’t you just hand them to him yourself?” Niall suggests.

Harry shakes his head no quickly, blushing. “I can’t do that, Niall.”

“And why not?”

“I just—not yet, okay?”

“Yet?” Niall’s expression brightens.  “So you’re gonna tell him eventually? Hopefully soon?”

Harry shrugs, not really offering a definite answer. He looks back down at the rose in his hand and runs the tip of his finger over the now-smooth stem, sighing wistfully at the thought of telling Louis that he likes him and getting his feelings returned. That’d be really nice. Harry wishes it could become reality one day, but as much as he likes preaching about love and taking chances for the sake of it, he still gets tongue-tied whenever faced with the idea of taking that chance with Louis.

Someday, though. Hopefully.

“We could, like, get random people to give it to him?” Zayn suggests, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. “Get them to say it’s from his secret admirer.”

“But how’s that going to work?” Niall asks Zayn, before turning to Harry, “How many roses are you planning on giving him, anyway?”

“Um, I paid for five of these earlier,” Harry answers.

“So we just get five people to hand it to Louis?” Niall asks. “Where and when?”

“After practice, while he’s still on the field,” Zayn suggests, before turning to Harry. “You have to be there, though. You need to see what his reaction will be.”

“Um,” Harry begins uncertainly, “I don’t really know that many people who I can ask to help—”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Zayn assures, smiling. “I told you I’d help you out with this, man.”

“Thank you,” Harry says sincerely, smiling back.

“You have to promise me one thing, though,” Zayn adds, and Harry nods for him to continue. “You have to tell him it’s you by the end of the week. Or, whenever you’re ready, really. But you gotta tell.”

Harry chuckles nervously, turning the rose in his hands just to have something to do. “Let’s hope I muster up the courage to.”

* * *

Harry runs out of roses even faster that day. Admittedly, it’s mostly because a lot of boys and even a couple of girls have approached him and asked whether he was giving the roses for free, and then asked if they could have one to give their girlfriends once they found out that yes, free roses, just how awesome is that. Harry wasn’t supposed to, but he couldn’t really say no to them, so as a result he’s done fifteen minutes in and reporting back to Liam.

It’s probably a good thing that he’s finished now, anyway, because that means he can go watch the team practice. He pulls his phone out on the way to the pitch and texts Niall quickly, telling him that his work is done and that he’ll be joining in watching the practice today. Niall just replies with this weird hand emoji that Harry doesn’t really understand the meaning of but assumes is some kind of confirmation. He doesn’t understand emojis in general, really, which is why he doesn’t use them much.

Niall is, expectedly, already sitting on the bleachers when Harry gets there. “Heya Harry, the team’s just warming up!”

Harry nods once, taking a seat beside the blond before looking out onto the pitch. Louis is somehow already looking at him, and Harry flushes, trying to bite back a smile. He offers the older boy a little wave, one that Louis returns by grinning widely and waving both arms in the air wildly until Zayn whacks him on the back of the head to get him to focus. Harry is hopelessly endeared.

“God, he’s got it just as bad as you,” Niall comments, sounding amused.

Harry feels his cheeks heat up even more and he ducks his head, pushing his glasses up his nose when it starts sliding down. He can feel the smile tugging on his lips, though, and he’s hopeless to stop it.

Niall nudges him on the side. “I’m serious, you know. He likes you too. One of you just needs to toughen up and say it.”

“Oh, like how you and Zayn did?” Harry asks, and it’s Niall’s turn to blush.

“At least we stopped tiptoeing around each other,” the blond mutters defensively, rolling his eyes.

Harry reaches out and pulls his friend into a hug, ignoring Niall’s loud protests.

The blond eventually gives up trying to struggle free from the hold of Harry’s octopus limbs and just sighs, shifting a little so that he’s cuddled more comfortably against Harry’s side. Harry smacks a loud, friendly kiss on top of his head. “I’m happy for you, you know. You and Zayn make a great couple.”

“Thanks,” Niall mutters, but Harry can see that he’s smiling. “Now we just need to get you and Louis together.”

Harry sighs dreamily at that. “Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Niall ruffles his hair in agreement.

On the field, the players begin practicing. They start running around, kicking the ball back and forth between them. Harry’s eyes are glued on Louis the entire time, and he notices with delight that the older boy is wearing football shorts today. Harry wishes they were sat a few rows down so he could watch Louis run around up close, get a better view of how his thigh muscles flex when he’s about to make a kick, how his shirt starts clinging to his back with sweat, how he runs his fingers through his damp fringe and pushes it back from his face when his hair starts getting into his eyes.

Harry sighs again, every bit the cliché teenager with a crush starring in a romantic teen comedy. He can’t help it, though; Louis is just so amazing.

Fortunately for him Niall doesn’t tease him anymore, but it’s probably because he’s too busy watching Zayn.

Halfway through practice, Louis looks up at the stands again and waves at Harry. Harry didn’t really see it coming so he panics, quickly lifting a hand and doing this weird finger-shake thing. Louis laughs before turning and kicking the ball that gets passed to him.

Niall snorts. “You’re hopeless.”

“Shut up,” Harry says without real heat.

For a moment he wonders what this must look like to other people, the fact that he and Niall are always at practice. It’s not like they’re the only ones sitting on the bleachers—a few rows down are some of the other players’ girlfriends, higher up near the back are some students doing homework or reading a book, and scattered about are a few enthusiastic football fans here for the pure joy of supporting the team—but. Do people think they’re boyfriends? Like, Niall and Zayn aren’t exactly being secretive about… whatever their status is right now, since Harry saw the two holding hands while walking down the hallway just earlier today, but Harry.

Do people think he’s Louis’ boyfriend?

Just the idea makes Harry’s cheeks feel pleasantly warm, and he squirms around on the seats trying to bite back a smile. Of course, that’s the moment Louis chooses to look up again, catching Harry being all weird and shooting him a silly grin, which just makes Harry giggle into the sleeve of his jumper. God, maybe people do think they’re together.

Practice ends soon enough. Harry and Niall meet Louis and Zayn by the edge of the field, and Harry feels a bit faint when he sees just how sweaty Louis is, shirt clinging to his body with sweat. He’s breathing a little heavily from all the running but he’s smiling still, and Harry can’t help but smile back.

“You were amazing out there, as always,” he says, sounding just a little breathless to his ears.

“Aw, thank you, Hazza.” Louis’ nose does this adorable crinkly-thing when he smiles even wider, and Harry barely stops himself from melting into a puddle of goo right there on the grass. “I’d hug you right now, but I’m afraid I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Oh I’m sure Harry wouldn’t mind that at all,” Niall says, and Harry elbows him not-so-lightly on the side.

Louis just laughs, though. “Stay here, yeah? I’m just going to shower and change real quick, then I’ll walk you home.”

It’s a miracle that Harry’s knees don’t give out on him right then and there, because that would just be very embarrassing. But then again, Louis would probably carry him if ever that happened so it wouldn’t be too bad.

He’s so lost in his thoughts of Louis carrying him all the way home like some kind of bride that he doesn’t even notice that the older boy has gone and walked away until Zayn and Niall are pulling him to the side. He blinks, startled. “What?”

“Okay, see those people over there?” Zayn asks, pointing to a group of students waiting by the bottom of the stands. “They’re going to hand Louis the roses one by one the moment he gets back out. After this he’s going to walk you home, right, and I suggest you use that opportunity to tell him.”

Harry gulps, but he nods once. Zayn is right—that would be a good chance.

They stand in silence for a few minutes, waiting. Niall asks whether Zayn’s going to shower, or maybe at least change, but Zayn just shrugs and stays with them, probably to make sure that nothing goes wrong. Harry is really thankful that Zayn got on board with this whole secret admirer thing, because he’s not sure how he’d manage to pull it all off if it were just him and Niall. They just don’t have that many connections, if at all.

After a while Louis comes back out, freshly-showered and looking gorgeous as ever. He’s running a hand through his hair when the first person approaches him, tapping him on the shoulder. Louis looks a little surprised, but he quickly schools his expression into a smile when the girl hands him the rose.

Harry keeps on chewing his bottom lip as he watches. The girl says something quick before turning around and running off, and Louis looks after her with an adorably confused expression. Then the next girl comes in, handing him the rose and flashing him a smile before skipping off with a bright laugh. Louis just looks even more confused, and then the next rose comes in, this one handed to him by a boy who even goes as far as singing the chorus of some love song Harry can’t really put a name to.

Once all five roses have been handed to him, Louis just stands there for a moment, looking down at the flowers in his hands. Harry is gripping so tightly onto Niall’s sleeve it’s a miracle he doesn’t rip it off, his bottom lip feeling like it’s almost chewed off with how hard he’s been biting on it.

And then Louis looks up, a small and almost wistful smile on his face.

Harry is going to pass out. He might not even make it through that walk home.

* * *

“So,” Harry begins, trying to sound casual even though his heart feels like it’s about to rip its way out of his chest and run far away from here, “roses, huh?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, looking down at the five stems he’s holding. He gently runs a fingertip over one of the petals, before bringing them up to his nose and taking a sniff. He smiles that same almost-wistful smile Harry saw on him earlier, and Harry isn’t quite sure how to interpret it. “They’re quite lovely, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, nodding too quickly that his glasses start slipping off. He reaches up to push them back in place and notices that his hands are shaking, just slightly. His mind’s chanting oh god oh god oh god here it goes you’re actually going to do this oh god, and his palms feel sweaty, throat tight.

The thing is, Harry is pretty sure Louis likes him back. They’ve been casually, subtly flirting with each other for months now, but it’s been even more obvious these last few days. Niall is right—one of them just needs to say something about it, or else they might be stuck in this friendly-flirting phase forever, or at least until Louis finds someone else he likes and moves on. So Harry is going to be that person, if only he can get his bloody words out.

“Uh… who do you think they’re from?” he asks, and nearly smacks himself on the face. God, get it together, Styles.

Louis shrugs, glancing back down at the roses. “They’re probably from the same person who left the candies in my locker and the chocolates on my desk.”

“So a secret admirer, eh?” Harry presses on, clenching his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. They’re getting closer to his house, and he needs to tell Louis that it’s him, it’s been him all along, before they get there and Harry loses the chance. “Any idea who they might be?”

Louis thinks about it for a moment, steps slowing down. Harry slows down as well, waiting with his heart in his throat. They eventually come to a stop, Louis twirling the stem of the roses in between his fingers and pursing his lips in thought. After a few seconds he looks up, and Harry sucks in a breath when Louis’ blue blue blue eyes look into his, and he thinks, this is it.

A rose is suddenly tucked behind his ear, and Harry holds his breath.

If this were a fairytale, maybe even a Young Adult novel or a chick flick, this would be the moment where Louis would stare right into his soul and whisper, “You. It’s you, Harry,” before pulling him in for a kiss right there and then in the middle of the sidewalk. They’d confess their never-ending love for each other then hold hands for the rest of the walk home, and then they’d go to uni together and become the ultimate power couple of their campus. They’d start a family together a few years after they graduate, find a large house somewhere nice and preferably warm, get two pet dogs and five cats, and then adopt enough children to start a football team. If only men could get pregnant as well, Harry thinks wistfully. He’d love to carry Louis’ babies given the chance.

But. This isn’t a fairytale, nor is it a movie based off the latest YA bestseller. This is real life.

So instead of Louis pulling him in for a kiss after tucking a rose behind his ear, he just pulls his hand away and shrugs, says, “No idea, to be honest. But I guess that’s for the best, because I wouldn’t know how to tell them that I already like someone else.”

Louis breaks Harry’s heart while flicking his fringe out of his face and grinning, as though his words didn’t just rip Harry’s heart right out of his chest and threw it on the ground, crushing it to pieces. Harry isn’t sure how, but he somehow manages to form an acceptable response to that.

“Oh, I see,” he says with a smile that he can’t really feel, because it’s like his entire world is crashing down around him. Louis likes someone else. Louis likes someone else. Louis likes someone else.

The next few moments pass by in something like a haze, and next thing Harry knows they’re outside his door and Louis is hugging him goodbye, before skipping off with a bright, “See you tomorrow, Hazza!”

Harry just stands there for long minutes, wondering whether he was wrong all along and there aren’t happy endings for everyone.

February 12, 2015

The thing about having a broken heart is that there isn’t really a physical manifestation to it, so no one would know unless he states it outright, or unless someone knows him well enough and would see that something is wrong just by taking a good look at him. Which also means he still needs to go to school, he still needs to hand out today’s gifts (red velvet cupcakes), and he still needs to tell other people to have a good day and smile, that love is on the way, that a happy ending is waiting for them, even though that’s the last thing he wants to do right now.

So Harry drags himself to school, not even bothering to dress properly. He just pulls on the first jumper he grabs, which happens to be a hideous brown thing two sizes too big on him that he probably got from an old relative, and yesterday’s jeans which are lying on the floor. He shoves his glasses on his face and skips breakfast, and then he’s out the door with a heavy feeling in his chest.

Niall greets him by the gates. “Heya Harry!” he shouts, taking a step closer, but then he probably catches the look on Harry’s face and his bright expression drops. “What happened?”

Harry’s shoulders slump, and he lets Niall lead him to their classroom with an arm around his shoulders. “He likes someone else, Ni,” is all he says, sounding defeated and miserable.

Niall looks like he wants to ask at least a dozen more questions, but he must’ve sensed that Harry doesn’t really want to talk about it. So he distracts Harry instead, tells him about this funny video that Greg emailed him a link to last night, tells him about the dinner his mum cooked, tells him about this cool new blog he found that’s full of kittens because he knows Harry loves kittens.

Harry also really loves Niall right now.

* * *

Harry doesn’t go to practice that day.

Instead he takes his time handing out cupcakes, pasting on a smile and telling people to have a good day. When he runs out of cupcakes to give he asks for another batch, and Liam looks a little confused, probably because Harry usually heads to practice immediately after he’s done, but thankfully he doesn’t ask questions and just hands Harry three more boxes.

Of course, as his luck would have it, Louis finds him just when he’s down to the last box.

“Harry!”

Harry freezes, unsure of how to react. Should he make a run for it? Should he pretend he didn’t hear? Should he just stay casual and not make it weird between them? Or should he ignore Louis? Before he can really decide on what course of action to take Louis is there, tapping him on the shoulder.

“You didn’t go to practice today,” the football captain says, pouting. Harry knows Louis well enough to know that he’s just joking, but there’s something in Louis’ eyes that seems to tell Harry that he’s genuinely sad and disappointed that Harry wasn’t there. And oh, is practice already over? Has Harry really been out here that long?

He tries for an apologetic smile, but it probably ends up looking more like a grimace.

“I missed you, you know,” Louis adds, voice quiet but sincere, reaching out and tugging on one of Harry’s curls. It also feels like he’s tugging directly at the strings of Harry’s broken heart.

And that’s just not fair, now is it? The wound is still fresh, so to speak, so Louis shouldn’t be getting all touchy with him like this. But Harry is weak, so incredibly pathetically weak when it comes to Louis, so he doesn’t pull away. Instead he just shrugs and lifts the box he’s holding. “Sorry, was busy.”

“With what?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow curiously, before his gaze lands down on the box Harry is holding. “What’s that?”

Harry mentally slaps himself across the face. Right. Louis doesn’t know that he’s a volunteer for the Valentines project. “Um. Remember the Valentine thing by the Student Council? I’m, uh, a volunteer. Basically we hand out gifts around campus and stuff.”

“Oh, right,” Louis says, peeking into the box. His curious expression changes into an excited one. “Cupcakes! I love cupcakes, is it okay if I take one?”

Harry nods, lifting the lid off the box and then offering it to Louis. “Go ahead. You can even take two if you want, but don’t tell anyone.”

“You’re the best,” Louis says. He gets two and immediately bites into half of one. “You know, s’a bit weird because I didn’t get anything from my secret admirer today,” he starts saying, mouth full of pastry, and Harry freezes. Louis swallows and continues, “But I guess it’s okay since I got these from you and—” he stops abruptly.

Harry can see the moment it clicks, Louis blinking up at him with his mouth hanging open slightly. Harry gulps, shifts from one foot to the next awkwardly. He isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do now, whether he’ll just come clean and admit to everything or play dumb. The air suddenly changes around them, like it’s more charged with… something, Harry isn’t sure what. He can’t even look Louis in the eye.

He breaks the silence after a few more seconds, clearing his throat awkwardly and saying, “Um, I need to go back now, since it’s getting quite late. Have a nice day, Louis.” And then he’s walking away without waiting for a reply, feeling Louis’ gaze burning a hole into the back of his jumper.

He nearly trips on his way to the Student Council room, but he somehow manages to get the remaining cupcakes back safely. Liam looks a little worried so he makes Harry take a few of the cupcakes home for himself, and Harry accepts without putting up too much of a fuss, deciding that he’s going to spend the night locked up in his room, curled on his bed and wrapped up in his blankets while eating cupcakes and ice cream, maybe even marathon the rom coms he got from Gemma on his laptop.

Yeah, sounds like a plan.

February 13, 2015

“Niall, I don’t want to go to practice,” Harry whines for what is probably the hundredth time that day.

And for the hundredth time that day, Niall just rolls his eyes at him. “Liam told you that there’s nothing to hand out today, so you’re coming with me.”

“But Niall,” Harry protests, digging his heels into the dirt so that Niall stumbles when he tries to drag him further. The blond turns to shoot him a glare and Harry just pouts. “Louis knows.”

“Louis knows what?”

“That I’m his secret admirer.”

“How would he know? I though you said he was fucking oblivious to everything?”

Harry sighs, pulling his arm away from Niall and fiddling with the sleeves of his jumper, just to give his hands something to do. “He saw me handing out cupcakes yesterday, and I don’t know, I guess he just pieced it all together. I can’t face him now.”

Niall makes an impatient sound, glancing at his phone to probably check the time. “Harry, c’mon, I’m sure it’s not that bad. Let’s just go to practice, okay?”

“No,” Harry shakes his head stubbornly. “You can go watch your boyfriend by yourself, I’m sure you won’t even need me there.” He sounds bitter, but he can’t help it. He’s always been a big believer in love, so it isn’t fair that people around him are happy and in love and he’s just left to witness it all with a broken heart. What did he ever do wrong, anyway? All these years he’s been nothing but positive, but then he goes and gets his damn heart broken.

And the worst thing is, he’d been pretty sure that Louis felt the same.

But then again, why would Louis like someone like Harry? Louis is a star, the captain of the football team and the president of the drama club, loved and worshipped by both the jocks and the theatre nerds and everyone in between. Meanwhile Harry is just Harry, jumper- and vest-wearing nerd with too-large glasses and a tendency to drag out his speech. He’s only managed to get out of that dumb hair-slicked-back-with-too-much-gel style a few months ago, too, so there’s no way that Louis would ever take any interest in him as more than a friend. He’d probably just mistaken all the friendliness for flirting. He’s an idiot for even thinking that he had any chance in the first place.

“Harry,” Niall says, pulling Harry out of his miserable thoughts, “if you don’t come with me I am going to drag your arse down to the pitch myself. I don’t care that you’re bigger than me, I’m gonna fucking do it.”

“Why does it matter to you so much that I come watch the team practice today, anyway?” Harry asks hotly, crossing his arms against his chest. “I didn’t go with you yesterday either and you were perfectly fine watching them by yourself.”

“Yeah, but,” Niall falters for a second, before he gets this determined expression on his face. “The team’s trying out this new practice routine and apparently it’s really wicked, so you wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Harry takes one look at Niall’s face and says, probably for the first time ever in his entire life, “Bullshit.”

Niall groans and grabs onto Harry’s wrist. “Just fucking come with me, Harry.”

Harry just gives up, then. He lets out a defeated sigh and allows Niall to drag him towards the field, heart feeling heavy in his chest. He’s frowning the entire way there but Niall looks happy and chipper as ever, almost skipping. Harry isn’t sure what his friend is up to—he just knows that he’s up to something.

He isn’t really looking at where they’re going, eyes fixed on the ground and trusting Niall to lead the way and not let him bump into objects or people. So it’s a bit of a surprise when, instead of the cemented ground that leads to the bleachers, they’re suddenly walking on grass. Specifically, the neatly-trimmed and slightly-damp grass that leads to the football field itself.

Harry looks up.

They are on the field, and Harry blinks, looking around him confusedly. The players are nowhere to be seen and the stands are empty as well, and Harry is very, very confused because shouldn’t the team be getting ready to do drills?

Niall stops once they’re in the middle of the pitch, letting go of Harry’s wrist. Harry opens his mouth to ask what they’re doing here when Niall suddenly cups his hands around his face and shouts, “HE’S HERE!!! OPERATION COMMENCE!!!”

Harry jumps in surprise, blinking wildly, and then Niall’s patting him on the cheek twice before running off and leaving him standing there in the middle of the field, lost like a puppy that’s been left by itself. Music suddenly starts playing from the speakers surrounding the pitch, some cheesy love song that Harry’s heard on the radio a few times before, and he blinks, getting more and more confused by the second.

Someone suddenly taps his shoulder and he turns around, coming face to face with one of the football players—Josh, Harry thinks his name is.

Josh smiles at him before handing him this cylindrical container made of what he thinks is clay, since it looks like something that the students in the art workshop class make. It’s painted a bright red with small pink heart designs, and it contains a bunch of candy hearts on sticks much like the gifts Harry was handing out just this Monday. Harry takes it hesitantly, and then Josh is walking away without a word.

Harry looks after him for a few seconds before he glances down at the candied hearts, and his breath catches a little when he sees the messages written on them: it’s you, it’s you, it’s you, on every single one. Something like hope starts to bubble in his chest.

Another tap on the shoulder. Harry spins around and sees another player from the team, Sandy, who is holding a heart-shaped box of what is most probably chocolates. He hands it with a wink before jogging off, and Harry is left standing there with hope and anticipation building up more and more in his chest, making his heart race a little.

He’s more prepared for the third tap on his shoulder. He turns and gasps when he sees the large bouquet of flowers that another one of the players, Ed, gives him. The flowers are beautiful, bright and colorful and very artfully arranged, fragrant and making Harry feel pleasantly dizzy. He’s barely able to hold all the gifts in his arms, too overwhelmed at what he thinks—at what he hopes—is going to happen.

The music cuts off abruptly, and then a voice is crackling through the speakers, “Harry Edward Styles!”

Harry looks around, trying to find the source—trying to find Louis, because he knows that voice anywhere. He finds the older boy standing by the bleachers, holding a microphone, and god, he’s actually going to do this right here, right now.

Fairytales do happen in real life. Harry’s faith in love is now restored.

“The other day you asked me who I thought my secret admirer was,” Louis begins, and even though Harry can’t quite clearly see his face and expression from this distance, he can still hear the sincerity in the older boy’s voice, “and I told you that I had no idea, which was better because I already liked someone else and I didn’t have the heart to tell whoever was leaving me these gifts that I wasn’t interested.”

Harry isn’t sure how he’s still standing at this point, if he’s going to be honest. He just wants to give in to the shaking of his knees and lie down on the grass surrounded by all the presents he’s holding in his arms. But a bigger part of him wants to see this in full, wants to be able to hear what Louis has to say and remember it all so that when he looks back at this moment, he can do so in full, vivid detail.

“Yesterday I got nothing from my secret admirer, not even a note,” Louis continues, still speaking into the microphone connected to the speakers. God, anyone could hear him. Anyone could just pass by near the pitch and just hear and know what Louis is doing. What Louis is doing for Harry. “I told myself it was okay since, like I said, I already fancy someone else. But I was still a little disappointed and I wasn’t sure why. Then I saw you, and I was so happy because I didn’t get to see you during practice and I missed looking up at the stands and waving at you and just… just knowing that you’re there watching. I was sad, to be honest.”

Harry imagines that, thinks of Louis running around and making a goal and looking up on instinct to check whether Harry saw it, only to find empty seats. Harry feels a little guilty about it, but he had his own reasons for not showing up so the guilt isn’t really that strong. He had a broken heart, okay.

Louis goes on, “So I went up to you and I could tell immediately that something was bothering you because you didn’t give me your special smile, the one that makes your eyes light up and your cheeks dimple. I wasn’t sure if it was something I did at first, and I wanted to cheer you up, and then you offered me the fucking cupcakes and it suddenly clicked in and—god, Harry, I’m a fucking idiot.” He laughs, and Harry feels like flying up into the clouds and never coming back, but only if Louis wants to fly up there with him. “It’s you, okay? It’s always been you. I like you, Harry.”

And there it is.

Harry isn’t sure how he’s still breathing. Louis drops the mic and climbs down the stands, and Harry notices his other teammates standing a few rows up the bleachers in a straight line. They’re holding up signs and together they all read, HARRY WILL YOU BE MY VALENTINE? and Harry has to laugh because of course, yes yes yes. All they yes’s.

He stands there with a racing heart, arms loaded with everything he’s given Louis multiplied by ten, and he waits not-so-patiently as the older boy approaches him with a slightly sheepish smile. Once Louis is near enough Harry doesn’t think about his actions much—he just gently sets the gifts down onto the slightly damp grass, dusts his hands off on his trousers, and throws himself at the older boy.

Louis catches him easily, arms wrapping around his waist and laughter ringing in his ear, high and bright and wonderful.

“Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes,” Harry hears himself babbling, but he can’t stop himself because this is what he’s been waiting for. “I can’t believe you did all this!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t just tell me,” Louis says, pulling away slightly so he can look at Harry. “I thought I made it pretty obvious that I like you as well!”

“You said you liked someone else,” Harry defends, pouting, but his heart’s still pounding in his chest from so much happiness.

“Yeah, I did—you,” Louis says.

Harry blushes, ducking his head, but Louis makes him look back up with a finger underneath his chin.

“It’s you,” Louis repeats, looking straight into Harry’s eyes. The blue in them looks so utterly sincere that it’s a miracle Harry’s knees don’t just give out right then and there. “I didn’t know that you were the one leaving me all those gifts until yesterday. Had I known from the start that you were my secret admirer, I would’ve asked you to go out with me sooner.”

Harry’s cheeks feel even hotter. He ducks his head again and bites his lip because Louis likes him back, Louis wants to be his Valentine, Louis wants to go out with him, Louis likes him back Louis likes him back Louis likes him back.

“It’s not my fault that you’re so slow,” he somehow manages to say back, grinning at Louis’ indignant squawk.

“Well I’m sorry not everyone is as smart as you are!” Louis pokes at his waist, making him squirm.

“Whatever. Now kiss me, you fool,” Harry finds himself saying, almost breathlessly, and then Louis’ leaning forward and knocking his glasses askew as he presses their lips together.

Harry can hear the team cheering them on from somewhere behind them, and if he listens closely enough he can just pick out Niall’s loud hollering and Zayn’s more subdued laughter. He’ll probably get teased endlessly later, both him and Louis, but right now he can’t really bring himself to care about anything other than the way Louis’ arms are wrapped securely around him and the feeling of Louis’ mouth over his.

And just like in those fairytales, the kiss feels magical. The only difference is that where fairytales end in a kiss, Harry’s is just starting with one.