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Harry was sixteen when he met him. At the mere age of sixteen, you think you know everything about everyone, when really, you’re just as clueless as you were at thirteen and still will be when you’re twenty. No one expects you to have the answers to the universe, but people do expect you to act like a child because you’re still two measly years away from being an adult.
But Harry met him when he was sixteen, and it didn’t take long for him to know that he was the love of his life. Harry wasn’t even sure what his sexuality was. He didn’t know what type of attraction defined him if it defined him at all. All Harry knew was that he was sixteen, he met a boy who was eighteen, and it took all of two minutes to fall arse over tit in love with him.
How could he not? When Louis was a fragment of space shining with all the mirth of a star aimed in his direction, how could anyone expect him not to be enthralled, enraptured, and obsessed? Louis took one look at him and made the face of someone special, someone worth wasting hours just staring at and admiring.
Louis with his pretty eyes and crinkled smiles whenever someone looks over to him. Louis who writes a little L on the skin of Harry’s palms and wrists and fingers. Louis with his thin waist and dainty shoulders that Harry holds on to when he stands behind him, because Louis lets him, wants him to. Louis who always has some sort of contact with Harry, even only days after they met for the first time, because he just doesn’t ever want to be far from him, he’s said so.
There was no chance Harry was going to go into this with the hopes of being Louis’ best friend at arms length away. Harry knew he’d have to have everything or nothing, because Louis is far too brilliant, far too vivid, far too bright to just have moments with him. Harry could never bear to just have sporadic days with Louis, where they talked for an hour then went on their way, no he just couldn’t.
Harry needed to spend every second with him, never leave his side long enough to go cold from the lack of his warmth. Harry needed to feel the soft and smooth skin of Louis’ arms with a dusting of fine hair on them. Harry needed to see the way Louis looked at him, like he hung the stars and drew the moon each night to shine on his perfect face. His perfect perfect face.
“Lou,” Harry all but whined, reaching out for his arms and shoulders and neck and cheeks and eyes. Louis’ feet and half of his legs were in Harry’s lap, and Harry had spent the better half of an hour rubbing his ankles slowly, just to feel the smooth glide of his palms over his soft skin.
“Yes love?” Louis answered, placing his phone screen up on his chest and looking over to Harry. He was on twitter, a tweet half written on his screen with three emoji’s already in use.
Harry grinned into his chest, knowing that if he didn’t interrupt Louis’ tweet crafting, he would have gotten the notification that he tweeted in just a few moments. “How long have you been living here?”
Louis’ smile grew softer if that were possible, as he looked at Harry, his Harry. “Only a couple months,” He said quieter, removing his feet from Harry's lap and sitting up. “Why d’you ask my darling?” Louis scooted closer to Harry, lifting his hand to gently move a curl out of Harry's eyes and behind his ear.
Harry stared into Louis’ eyes. One of his favourite places to get lost in, the colour like a blanket of comfort and solace. Harry has spent hours just thinking of that colour, he’d paint his inner eyelids that colour if he could, his walls, his ceiling, his brain, and his life. He’d cover every other colour on the planet with that one if he was able to.
Harry crawled out of Louis’ eyes, refocusing on the question Louis had asked him. “No reason really, just intrigued, not long before I’m eighteen and off to uni, I suppose.” Harry was well aware that two years did not usually warrant the statement ‘not long before,’ but he felt the need to find an explanation that wasn’t:
‘All I think about is living here, living with you and around you and in you. Living the rest of my life with your hands on my body and my skin on yours. I want to crawl into your body and live there because being next to you just isn’t enough and I want more. I want so much more.’
But Harry felt those words were a bit too mature for his age. Or maybe that was his mother, and sister, and grandmother, and every other adult speaking in his ear.
Louis just looked back at him, his eyebrows moving in the way Harry knew meant he was checking and searching Harry’s face. “Love,” He started, lifting his other hand this time and cupping Harry's left cheek. “What’s up?” He whispered it into the air between them, a tiny gap between their noses and their chins and their lips. Their lips.
Harry leaned into Louis’ hand, nudging his chin against the bulge of his thumb, his lip catching on the skin there. His eyes slipped shut as he puckered his lips, placing a small kiss under Louis’ thumb, opening his eyes to see Louis’ fixed on that spot. Harry slowly linked his fingers with the ones on his cheek, holding firmly on as if to say ‘Look, I’m here and I want you and I want you to want me’ because he just couldn’t say that out loud yet.
“Harry,” Louis whispered, inching closer and zoning into Harry’s long eyelashes brushing the top of his cheeks every time he blinked. Louis had said it like he was going to carry on, like he had more to say from the tip of his tongue and through his thin lips. But he didn’t say more, he shut his mouth and licked his lips, and just continued stroking his thumb under Harry's nose.
Neither of them could say how long that moment lasted. How long Louis held Harry's face and looked into his eyes. How long Harry begged to lean closer and connect the two of them in such an intimate way. But when it broke, it felt like gardens were being planted, like an ocean was just formed, like God just corrected every mistake he made the first time around. It felt stronger and it felt better, and it felt like something had shifted.
Harry left the moment with a smile and a new understanding of them. Of the way they were with each other and why it all felt so perfect. Because Louis, regardless of the lack of solid proof Harry had of his attraction overall, was also attracted to him. Harry needn’t be foolish enough to know what liking looked like. He knew he was looking at the same expression on Louis’ face that Louis was seeing on his.
They fell back into their places, Louis finishing his tweet and Harry rubbing his ankles. The tv was on a radio station, soft and quiet songs playing in the background as Harry looked around Louis’ small uni flat.
Harry lived in London, only recently having moved from Cheshire there a year after Gemma left for university in Kent. Louis was living in London for his first year of university, studying drama to hopefully one day teach it. They had met in the coffee shop Harry worked in, proper meet-cute cliché christmas movie experience in the middle of October.
It was a Saturday afternoon and there was a lull in customers when Louis came in. He ordered from Beth who was on the till, and Harry made him his Yorkshire tea with a dash of milk and one sugar, while staring at him set up at a table in the corner. In his own true fashion, Harry wandered over with shaking hands and accidentally spilt it over the whole table when Louis had said ‘Thank you love’ as he was setting it down. He profusely apologised, rushing to get the cloth tucked into his apron and wipe it away from his papers. Louis had chuckled, reassuring Harry with a soft ‘It’s alright babe, happens to everyone’ while he too helped to clean it up.
Louis left the café two hours later and there, remaining on his table was a five pound note next to his receipt that had a scrawled note on it.
‘Thank you for the perfectly made tea. A tip for the pretty boy with clumsy hands – Louis’
Harry had gone home and screamed into his pillow, gently holding the paper in his hands to his face and lips. He pinned it up on his cork board above his desk opposite his bed and stared at it until he fell asleep.
Louis went into the café every day over the next week, immediately after his university lectures in hopes of seeing Harry again. And when he did, they chatted for half an hour while Harry had his break, again on a Saturday, and they both left with the other’s number.
Now, as Harry sits on Louis’ couch, his hands rubbing soft skin and eyes gazing at pictures on the shelf’s, Harry is eager for more. When he leaves three hours later, a takeaway chinese devoured on the coffee table, Harry can’t wait to walk right back over the next morning to see Louis again before his afternoon lectures.
Harry spent the evening and a lot of the night looking at the receipt Louis left for him, grinning dopily with red cheeks and itchy fingers.
****
The next morning, a dreary Monday that Harry had mostly free, bar Maths in the afternoon, Harry made the quick walk over to Louis’ house and got in using the key card Louis left under the mat on the nights he knew Harry would be over to wake him up.
Harry quietly tiptoed up the stairs, careful to not wake the other people in Louis’ shared flat and found the door that led to his room. He pushed it open and saw the tiny lump of covers that was Louis sleeping. Harry couldn’t help but pause for a moment, appreciating the way Louis’ head peeked out from the grey covers while he slept.
It could have been hours that Harry spent standing in that doorway, just examining every tiny thing Harry adores about the boy sleeping peacefully. The way his hair looked moderately neat even after a full night’s sleep, except the few pieces at the nape of his neck, where the material of his duvet had curled it up. How Harry could see the sheets moving up and down in languid motions with each soft breath Louis took. The breaths Harry could hear rolling down the fabric and floating over to him and seeping into his lungs.
When Harry eventually made his way over to the bed, avoiding the creak in the floor two steps away from the side, he drummed his fingers gently on the white sheets. Harry could see the bunched-up material near Louis’ chin, where he was sure his little hands were clutching strong enough to keep his body in a cocoon, so all the warmth stayed in. Harry never stood a chance.
He crawled onto the bed, slipping his socked feet under the covers by Louis’ and watching the way his face scrunched up at the tiny bite of frigid air that reached his toes. But when Harry slid his hands through the waiver of loose duvet by Louis’ middle, and wrapped an arm around his waist, Louis completely let go of the duvet to let Harry in, like he knew exactly who it was.
Louis stirred but kept his eyes shut, smiling to himself as Harry nestled close enough to almost be in his skeleton. Good, just where I want to be Harry thought to himself, squeezing Louis closer and breathing him in.
“Good morning, my love.” Louis whispered, rubbing a hand down Harry's spine while the other sought out one of his hands. When he found one, he brought it to his lips and kissed every knuckle, before pressing his lips to Harry's forehead and keeping him as close as possible. Harry spread his fingers over Louis’ chest, where a thin shirt created a frustrating barrier between them.
Harry turned his head up, watching Louis breathe while his eyes remained shut. His eyelashes were stroking his cheeks, and his nose was soft and slightly red, because he undoubtedly spent the night rubbing it against the duvet while he slept. “Hi Lou,” Harry answered just as quietly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the underside of Louis’ jaw. “What are you doing today?” He asked, tentative and gentle. Always gentle. Louis deserved gentle.
Louis smiled, opening his eyes, and blinking a few times as his top eyelashes got tangled with his bottom ones. “I would like to take you, monsieur Harry Styles, out on a date.” Harry blanched at him, his mouth popping open and his hands fidgeting.
“What?” Harry couldn’t help but ask, pulling back in order to be able to see Louis’ full face.
Louis grinned, leaning forward, and pecking Harry’s nose. “You heard me! I’m asking you out Harry.” Louis was grinning wider now, the crinkles by his eyes deepening as he awaited Harry's answer. He had the air of confidence, like he knew Harry was going to say yes, because obviously of course he was. It wasn’t cocky or arrogant, it was the feeling of being sure in your attraction and seeing it gazing back at you. Harry was right.
“I’m- I mean yes of course I will, but Lou- why? This is rather sudden?” Harry was eager to know. If he was sitting on a seat, he’d be an inch away from falling off it.
The brightness of Louis’ smile dropped slightly, as if he was upset at the hesitancy in Harry's tone. “If it wasn’t horrifyingly obvious from the day we met, I like you Harry, quite a fair bit if I’m honest,” Louis’ cheeks reddened and he looked away from Harry's intense eyes for a moment, before continuing. “And I’m sick of holding back from kissing you,” He added in a whisper, their eyes locking again. “And I don’t kiss before the first date.” Louis’ grin was back in full force, his eyes practically closed with his happy expression.
“Okay,” Harry murmured, gazing down, and tucking his chin to his chest to grin privately. When he looked back up, Louis’ expression was so overwhelmingly fond, and all Harry could do to stop himself from kissing him silly, was peck his chin. “Okay yeah, I’d really love that.” Harry finished, both of them flashing wide smiles at each other.
They chatted for another hour in bed, moving around a bit, Harry's head on Louis’ chest, then swapping to Louis’ head in the crook of Harry’s armpit. Louis refused to tell him what they were doing for the day, only telling Harry what he was wearing would be all right, but Louis would let him borrow a coat if necessary.
When they eventually climbed out of bed, Louis whined and mumbled complaints as Harry dragged him to the bathroom to shower, while he laid back down to go on his phone. Once he was showered, Louis walked back to his room and groaned in the doorway. He stomped his foot dramatically and crossed his arms over his wet naked chest, in an overexaggerated pouting stance. “How come you get to be in bed?” He whispered, turning away when Harry walked over to him.
Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes playfully and tutting. “Just get dressed Lou, I’ll go make us some tea.” Louis looked back at Harry and rested his matted hair on his chest, pulling away to find a wet patch left behind on his olive-green shirt.
While Louis got dressed, Harry made two cups of tea and worked around Jack, one of the other boys in the house. He had asked what Harry was doing and made a slightly disgusted face when he told him. Harry tried not to think anything of it, especially when Louis came in the room and he acted sweet and genuine towards Louis, offering to get him a coffee for his lecture later.
Louis awkwardly declined, saying he’d get his own before he went and after his date with Harry. His disgusted face that had shown earlier resurfaced as he looked between them. Jack’s answers got short again and within two minutes, he was pushing out the room and storming down the hall to his room.
“Ooookay then,” Louis drawled, widening his eyes while taking the cup from Harry's outstretched hand. “That was… odd. Thanks love.” Louis softly grabbed Harry's wrist and kissed the inner corner of it, before sipping at his tea.
They floated around each other, Louis putting small bits of food in little bags and containers and piling them into his backpack that he had emptied of his uni things. Harry moved when Louis gently pressed his knuckles into his sides or back to silently tell him he needed to get by, and soon enough, they had drank their tea and Louis declared himself ready.
Harry was wearing black somewhat baggy jeans with black high-top converse on, and an olive-green shirt covered by an open brown corduroy jumper with faux sheep skin on the inside. Louis was in loose blue jeans, the ends cuffed where his black vans reached his ankles and left a sliver of milky skin bare. He had a white shirt under the black hoodie he had on, a beanie perched on his head to keep his ears warm.
They left the small flat, Louis making sure the door locked behind them before he led Harry to his car. Louis opened the door for Harry, letting him step in and watching him right himself in the seat with fondness on his face and adoration in his eyes.
The plan was to take Harry to his favourite bookstore just down the road from the café Harry worked in, and let him buy however many books he wanted, within reason. Then he wanted to take him to a secret spot he found two weeks into living just by the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, and read to Harry and have him read too, while they snacked on the little bits of food Louis had gathered.
Harry squealed when Louis parked and took Harry by the hand into the bookstore. Louis had kissed the top of his hand and told him to pick whatever books he wanted, and he’d do the same.
They held hands between the books, picking old and tattered second hand ones to read the inscriptions and cooing at ones written for lovers. Harry almost cried when he read a page long handwritten note for a long-lost lover, quietly whispering it to Louis in the corner by the history section.
‘For my love Delilah, oh how I miss you more and more every day. You held me close but pushed me far away and I wished to keep you in my arms for all of eternity. You’re stubborn and silly and I love you so bloody much for it. There’s little chance you’ll read this, but if you do, and you’re not sure if it’s for you, the purple flowers in our garden miss you, the ones I used to weave into your hair? They’re sick of sitting outside, they want desperately to be in your hair. My fingers itch for it, my hands sweat in need of feeling your skin again. Come back to me darling, please come back, I don’t know where you’ve gone. I’m in agony at these crossroads trying to decide whether to go left and move on or go right and find you. Please be looking for me, I can’t find you on my own. I miss and love you. – Emma’
Louis held Harry close and wiped his tears away before they could fall. He gently took the book away and placed it carefully back on the shelf, leaving it there for it’s rightful owner by the name of Delilah to find it one day.
“Come on love,” Louis whispered, kissing Harry's nose, and holding his cheeks as he sniffed and calmed down. “Go pick some books yeah? Whichever ones you want.” Louis added, squishing Harry's cheeks together to make him smile. They pulled apart and Louis slid his hands down Harry's arms, squeezing his hands quickly before letting go.
Harry immediately went to the romantic section, while Louis turned towards the true crime in the corner. Harry browsed around, holding two books in one of his big hands as Louis picked between a serial killer case and murder mystery in the true crime section. When Harry wandered over, he pulled the murder mystery one out of Louis’ hands and placed it back on the shelf. “You’ll enjoy the serial killer one better, you always do.” Harry whispered, respecting the quiet in the store. Louis just grinned in return.
“Picked all you want love?” Louis asked looking at the spines to read the names before linking his hand with Harry's free one.
Harry smiled, squeezing Louis’ hand. “Yes, thank you, should we pay?” Louis nodded, pecking a quick kiss on to Harry's cheek between the aisles of books. Louis took the three books and quickly paid for them, putting them all in his bag and thanking the lovely old woman behind the counter.
They held hands as they walked back to the car, Harry swinging them as he chatted about anything that came to mind. Louis couldn’t help but admire him, the way his curls bounced and the little craters next to his mouth made their appearance every time Harry smiled. He was a picture of beauty at only sixteen, and Louis was already falling deeply and irreversibly in love with him.
Louis drove them a few miles away from London’s centre, where the buildings got slightly less dense, and cars drove quicker. When he turned down a few back roads, he looked over at Harry and smiled, watching the way he stared out his window.
The car climbed up hills, the gradient sending Harry to the back of his chair as he looked out the front window. When he caught Louis’ eyes on him for a second, he smiled softly to himself. They came out to an opening, where no other cars were and not a soul was to be found.
With a grin, Louis jumped out the car and went around to open Harry's door before he could. “There y’are babe.” Louis said and Harry beamed, sliding his hand down Louis’ arm, and grabbing his hand to hold.
From the top of the hill, you could see the Thames faintly in the distance. They weren’t high up enough to call anything except some people milling around small. The buildings were still big, and the view of the whole city was still massive. But Harry felt important, and significant, and with Louis’ fingers laced between his, he felt happy. So overwhelmingly happy.
Louis shook out a blanket and set it down on the grass in front of a tall tree that was providing some shadow from the brightness of the sun behind the thin clouds. They sat down together, and Harry leant against the tree as Louis pulled out what he had and set it up.
Together they snacked on fruit and crisps, trading quotes from the books they were reading and discussing the plots. An hour passed and now Harry’s head was in Louis’ lap, gazing up at the way his throat moved as he read aloud from one of Harry's romance novels. It was about a girl falling for her childhood crush many years after they first met.
Harry rubbed a hand up and down Louis’ outer thigh as he read, turning his head in to bury his nose in his soft stomach and breathe in the pure smell of him. Louis used one hand to hold up the book, struggling to turn the page every few minutes as his other hand was otherwise occupied in Harry's hair. He scratched lightly and made loose knots with the curls, Harry humming into his hoodie at the feeling.
It felt like hours that they spent there, the sun moving and the city lively with midday activities. Time passed with every strand Louis pulled, and every word Harry watched pour from Louis’ lips. People rushed around the city and clouds moved in the sky, but Harry just turned his head into Louis, and Louis just turned a page. Their day seized together as one that moved as a unit, but they barely did.
Harry could have never had a more perfect date in his whole life.
When the time came for Harry to be in school for maths, and Louis to be at uni for his lecture, Louis dogeared the page and placed his hand on Harry's chest. “We gotta go love.” He whispered, not daring to break the quiet that settled like a warm banket around them.
Harry picked up the hand on his chest and fiddled with Louis’ fingers for a moment before kissing the centre of his palm and sitting up. They cleared their things and packed everything back into Louis’ bag before making their way over to the car.
When they got back to Harry's house, the two romance books in one hand and the other holding Louis,’ they gazed at each other with small smiles on their faces. Louis leaned over the centre console, and Harry took it as going in for a kiss, but Louis stopped short and smirked at him. “You deserve a far more romantic kiss than one shared quickly in the car,” He whispered, leaning back, and getting out of the car quickly.
Harry’s head moved as he watched Louis run around the car to his side. “What are you doing?” Harry asked through a chuckle, climbing out the car and moving out of the way so Louis could slam it shut.
“I’m walking you to your door, you have no idea what trouble you could come across while you get there.” Louis said while gesturing to the ten-foot walk to the front door of the house from the car. Harry couldn’t help but giggle at Louis’ antics.
When they got to the door, Louis turned in to Harry, blocking the door handle so he could keep him a moment longer. “Just so you know, Anne and Gemma are watching us from the lounge window.” Louis whispered, taking a step closer and linking both their hands together.
Harry turned around and saw the curtain move rather quickly from the window. He chuckled, turning back around to face Louis, and also taking a step closer. “I don’t care.” Harry found some confidence and leant up to wrap his arms around Louis’ neck and kiss him.
Louis smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms securely around Harry's waist and pulling him in closer. It wasn’t long and it didn’t last forever, but Harry knew he’d replay it over and over in his head in order to make it. When they pulled apart, Harry sighed against Louis’ nose with a smile, their foreheads still connected. “Thank you for such a lovely date, Lou.” Harry murmured, fiddling with the ends of Louis’ hair.
Louis smiled back, quickly leaning in to peck Harry a few more times before ending in a long kiss to send him off. “My absolute pleasure love. I hope there’s many more,” Louis answered, pulling away slowly and cupping Harry's cheeks. “I’ll text you after my lecture and probably see you tomorrow,” They kept whispering, keeping the quiet tranquillity of their moment. “Bye darling.” Louis added, fully pulling away and taking a few backwards steps to his car.
Harry opened the door to the house, still standing outside watching Louis walk away. “Bye Lou.” He said, loud enough for Louis to hear him. When Louis’ car had driven away, Harry left outside and stepped into a bombardment of his mum and sister begging him to explain every detail. Which Harry did with a dopey lovesick grin on his face.
Harry pinned the receipt from the bookstore next to the one from the café and spent the night staring at them both.
****
A month passed and Louis became Harry's boyfriend. They spent every moment they could spare together, Louis walking to Harry's between lectures and Harry walking to Louis’ between classes. Louis made the effort to go into the café every time Harry was on shift, distracting him with flirty notes and spending hours there just watching Harry work.
He left a note on the receipt every time before he left. Harry started keeping them in a box under his bed rather than pinning them all to his cork board. He kept the first one and the bookstore one up there though.
They spent time in Louis’ flat, moving around each other in the tiny kitchen and laughing together at movies in Louis’ bed. Jack continued with his attitude towards Harry. Scoffing every time he saw them tangled together on the couch, or Louis pressing Harry against the kitchen counter. He treated him like a child, saying it was gross how Louis, an eighteen-year-old, was dating Harry when he was still sixteen.
“Look mate do you have some sort of issue?” Louis had yelled one night when Jack had mumbled something under his breath when Harry kissed Louis’ nose one too many times in his opinion. “’Cause I’m getting a bit sick of you with all this shit at my boy. What’s your problem? Huh?”
Jack had the audacity to look stunned, as if he was surprised that his actions were receiving such a reaction. As if that wasn’t exactly what he wanted. “No, no, no problems whatsoever, except that he won’t stop feeling you up when you aren’t the only people in here. Shouldn’t he be in school or something?”
Louis had almost flipped the couch, if Harry hadn’t grabbed his arm gently and pulled him back, Jack would have been up the wall. “You better shut the fuck up about him. He’s nothing but nice to you and you treat him like shit as if he isn’t in college and only two fucking years younger than you.”
“Lou,” Harry whispered, pulling him back further and placing a kiss on his neck. Jack tutted and rolled his eyes. “Leave it, lets just go to your room.” Harry whispered, starting to get up and pulling Louis to follow him.
Louis held Harry's hand, leading him up the stairs to his room. “You better pipe the fuck down from now on, and don’t even look at my boy.” He seethed, jabbing a finger at Jack before carrying on. Harry turned around and saw jack frown and look away, a tear drip down his face.
****
Jack avoided them from then on, leaving the room when they went in and didn’t bother to even talk to Harry if they were somehow left alone. Harry would always make Louis tea in the mornings when he was there while Louis showered. And Jack would be there making his own breakfast. After a week, Jack just waited until Harry finished before going in.
Louis’ birthday and Christmas passed with Louis back in Doncaster calling Harry every day and Harry pouting behind a pillow on Skype. Harry met all of Louis’ siblings and his parents over video call, waving at them and chatting with Jay like it was nothing.
Harry blinked and then it was March.
Harry does his homework and coursework in his room, taking sporadic five-minute breaks just to stare at the picture of him and Louis kissing through a smile that’s pinned next to the two receipts. He grins to himself throughout dinner when they’re eating a food he knows Louis especially isn’t fond of. Harry calls and texts Louis even when he has hardly anything to say, just so he can feel like he’s spending time with him.
They whisper I love you into each other’s necks while drifting into an afternoon nap with the warming sun on their bodies. They say it to each other like it’s a secret, a promise, while they cook dinner or make tea for a movie they’re going to watch with the other flat members. Sometimes even Jack too.
He keeps his distance and does his best to keep his gaze firmly locked in other places. Harry told Louis that maybe Jack fancies him and that’s why he’s acting the way he is towards Harry. Louis had scoffed and said if it was true then he was doing a terrible job at trying to get on his good side. He had also reassured Harry that no one would ever be able to whisk him away, because every single shred of his attention was on Harry always.
Spring passed in cuddles on the couch with less blankets and less layers as the sun got hotter in the sky. Days got longer and warmer as Harry grew more into his body, Louis watching as he too did the same. Months passed and soon they had both finished the years exams, it was the end of May, and they were free for summer.
Louis stayed an extra month in London, keeping the flat clean while the number of people there dwindled down to just him as they all made their ways back home. Harry spent nights over and over in the flat, Louis going to Harry's for days at a time too, where they blossomed further into their love.
Anne got excited to see Louis when he came over, Gemma would drive over for weekends when she knew Louis was there just because she too wanted to see him. Harry loved them, loved that they were okay with Louis, more than okay, and couldn’t be more thankful for the seamless way Louis fit into his life with his family.
At the end of June Louis packed up his things from the flat and shoved them all in his car. He held Harry by his hands and gently leant him against the driver’s side door. “You’re coming up in a month yeah?” Louis asked in a whisper outside his first-year uni flat.
Harry looked down at their hands, squeezing Louis’ before pulling his away to wrap his arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Yeah, mum said to get the train up.” His breath rolled down Louis’ neck, as Louis wrapped himself around Harry’s middle.
“We’ll barely notice the time baby, it’ll be a month in no time,” Louis answered in an equally quiet whisper, pulling back to cup Harry's face. There were small tears in Harry’s eyes as he slumped his arms down to rest heavier on Louis’ shoulders. “Oh love, come here.” Louis wiped away a few tears and leant in.
If Harry could spend the next month in this exact moment, he’d want it to last forever but also be over in a second just so he could do it in real life again. Louis kissed like he whispered, soft and tentative, guiding Harry like a reassuring hand at the bottom of his spine. He hummed into Harry’s mouth, moving his hands to glide into his curls and mess them up a little. Harry grinned into the kiss, it immediately dropping when Louis pushed him further onto the car and widening his legs around his body.
Harry felt huge, even though Louis was boxing him in and standing a few inches taller because of Harry's slumped frame, he felt massive. Like with the memory of Louis’ lips, he could do anything and everything good just with his influence.
Louis kissed like the sun brushing the tops of the hills in the mornings. Louis kissed Harry like he was important, because to him, he was.
Ten minutes later and Harry was standing outside his house now, kissing Louis one more time through his open window and stepping back to let him drive away. He waved as Louis went down the road and remained in that spot for a few minutes after Louis’ car was gone out of sight. He stepped back into the house and into the open arms of his mum.
****
Two months later and they were days from September. Harry had Jay’s number and joined in with almost every Skype call Louis had with them. He called and texted Jay often, introducing her to Anne and letting them hit it off.
Louis was in a new uni flat this year, bigger and with less people, and he could actually afford to fit a double bed into his room rather than the small twin he had before. Harry helped Louis and his family move him into the flat, mainly just wrangling the younger twins to keep them out of the way. Lottie and Fizzy carried in boxes and helped organise everything far better than Louis would have been able to.
Harry sat with the twins on the floor of the lounge, a show on CBBC playing while Harry braided Daisy’s hair and Phoebe fiddled with his. Daisy was sitting on Harry’s crossed legs, and Phoebe tugged and pulled Harry’s hair into silly styles while standing. Louis walked in on them and had to take a moment to breathe at the sight of Harry treating his siblings so well.
“God what am I going to do if we have kids?” Louis started, wandering over to Harry and sitting next to him. “How am I meant to watch this scene constantly, and not combust hmm?” Louis teased, poking Harry’s cheek to find his dimple and grinning when it appeared.
Harry’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, acting oblivious and as if he was just concentrating on the impressive dutch braids he was weaving into Daisy’s hair. “I’m sure you’ll survive.” He forced out after a tight cough. Louis was gazing at him with so much love in his eyes, smiling gently and caressing his thigh.
Jay called for Louis from the car, and he turned back to face the direction of the front door. “I’m not too sure.” Louis quickly added before moving to stand up. Harry gazed up at him with puppy eyes and puckered his lips. Louis couldn’t help but roll his eyes playfully and lean down to quickly peck him. They both grinned at the chorus of ‘ewww’s that came from the twins.
****
Two years seems like so much when you’re young. When you’re seventeen and he’s nineteen. It makes you feel like a whole other fragment of experience is there that you haven’t even brushed your fingers over.
But then you’re twenty and he’s twenty-two, and you’ve finished University at the same time. Or you’re twenty-four and he’s twenty-six, with your very own tattoo shop and his own teaching job, and it no longer feels like a lot. It feels like an extra two years have been given to you to admire the man you’ve watched outgrow the term boy. It feels like a space in time dedicated to you. You and him, like a star in the sky. Shared and perfect.
Suddenly the days where kissing was still tentative, and passion was still hesitant, has turned into comfortable and sustained boundaries. Where Louis watched his boyfriend get taller and his hair grow longer. The places Louis once pushed Harry up against to kiss him breathless, were now places Harry did the same to him.
A house in the outskirts of London that they wake up in every day. Louis’ tattooed arm draped over Harry’s tattooed chest, even with their jumpers covering them. The morning’s early light doing a better job at waking them up than their alarms, as it rises over the buildings and shines onto their king-sized bed.
It’s surreal just to watch Harry breathe. To see him sleeping on his back with his head turned and his arms up. A sliver of creamy skin exposed between his jumper and his joggers, the skin pulled and soft to the touch. And all Louis ever wants to do is touch, to check if he’s real, to make sure it’s not a dream. Because Harry is his dream, and Louis never wants to wake up.
Louis’ a drama teacher, who has to be up at ungodly hours to get there before his students. But he’ll always let himself linger a little longer if it means he can climb in the shower with Harry or watch him make them a coffee to go each. Because Harry has his tattoo shop to open for 9, and Louis needs to be at the school for 8, but Louis will be late, and Harry will be early, if it means a morning together.
A morning where Louis can have his back to the counter and his arms around Harry’s middle while Harry makes them coffee. Where Louis can bury his head into Harry’s soft chest while he puts sugar into mugs over his head. The perfect place for Harry to lean down and kiss his feather soft hair and wrap his arms around his neck while the kettle boils.
The mornings where Louis is groggy and tired because he was up marking exams until the early hours. But Harry still manages to make him smile by lifting him up onto his feet and dancing around the kitchen with the soft sound of Louis’ voice muffled by his clothes.
When school is done with for the year and Harry shuts the shop two days a week so they can spend time in their little house. They spend the summer months in Harry’s shop, having picnics in parks and driving out to the beach, having sex wherever they want in their house and watching marathons of tv shows in their bed.
They go to London pride together every year, rainbow glitter on their faces and a different pride flag each. Louis drapes the green and blue gay flag over his shoulders and Harry ties a little rainbow flag around his hair like a bandana, with a corner of the unlabelled flag tied to each wrist. They smile with other people they’ve only just met and sink deeper into their identities because Louis is gay, and Harry doesn’t need a label to also be valid.
They grow together, get more tattoos together, get married together and have kids together. Their house changes and they move to bigger ones, two little pairs feet pattering about with the massive black and white labradoodle Louis insisted they get from the shelter, and the tiny grey cat that Harry assured Clifford wouldn’t mind being around.
He was right, obviously, they’re best friends now.
Love and loss, and everything in between, and they do it together. Holding hands and kissing each other’s lips, with the certainty that no one else could ever come close to feeling as good as they do together.