Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s 11 am on a Tuesday and Louis has already threatened someone with a tattoo needle because they made fun of his height.

They glance backwards as they walk out the door, instruction sheet for taking care of the new tattoo clutched in their hand. Louis meets their eyes and makes a face. When the door closes, Harry sighs, having watched the whole exchange.

”You really shouldn’t do that, you know.” Harry looks at him pointedly and Niall nods behind the front desk. ”Threaten people. ’S not very good for business.”

Typical.

Louis turns to him and puts on his cutest smile. ”You wouldn’t fire your best friend, would you?”

Harry sighs. ”I wouldn’t, but if we go bankrupt because you’ve scared all the customers away I’ll get angry.”

Louis supposes that’s fair. ”I won’t,” he mutters, and reaches a hand out to put on Harry’s shoulder. ”I’m sorry.”

”Apology accepted.” Harry smiles. Looking over Harry's shoulder Louis can see Niall rolling his eyes.

Hopefully this day will get better soon.

*

Louis’ first appointment for the afternoon is a triangle. And it’s just a little annoying. Intellectually Louis knows that very few tattoo ideas are ”original”, and that it’s not really important to be the most unique ever. But still. He doesn’t like to be reminded of it.

As if that wasn’t enough, the guy who wants the triangle is tall, too. Fucking perfect. He’s tall and he’s got nice hands and this is just unfair to Louis.

But he will remain professional.

”Where do you want it, then?” Louis can hear himself being short and his mind flits back to his conversation with Harry earlier. He forces a little smile.

”I was thinking my right wrist?” The guy looks at Louis and Louis notices that his hair is tall, too. Incredulous.

Louis’ triangle is on his right ankle.

”Well, if you’re sure, cause there’s no takebacks.”

He didn’t mean it as a joke, but the guy laughs. Loud and annoying and a bit infectious. Louis’ mouth lives its own life, apparently, because he can feel it smiling back.

”I actually have given it some thought, yeah.” He sounds like Louis asked something unreasonable.

Louis nods. ”All right.”

When he puts the etching paper on the wrist, Louis can feel the guy’s eyes on him as they touch skin for a second.

He clears his throat. ”This your first tattoo?”

The guy nods. ”Took me a while to get the courage up, to be honest.”

He does look a little shaky. Louis feels less annoyed. ”Don’t worry,” he says. ”If you start hating it I’m excellent at cover-ups.”

That earns him a chuckle. ”That’s comforting,” the guy says, and he only sounds half sarcastic.

The bad thing about tattooing people is that you can’t look at their faces, have to look intently at what you’re doing. And Louis is good at what he does, so he doesn’t glance away to see if he can catch that smile again.

But when he’s done, he gets an even better smile than before.

”This is sick!” The guy grins and looks so incredibly happy, Louis can’t help but smile with him. A first tattoo is a rush like nothing else.

”I’m glad you like it,” he says, going for a detached tone but not quite succeeding.

This guy’s happiness radiates off him more intensely than anyone Louis has ever met before. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

*

”No offense, but that guy was checking you out.” Harry nods toward the thankfully closed entrance.

Louis huffs. ”He was not.” He’s not looking at Harry, he’s inspecting the tattoo ideas on the walls that he’s seen a thousand times before. That wolf looks kind of mean. He’s never noticed that before. Interesting.

”You’re not usually flushed after doing a simple tat like that,” Harry goes on, unfazed by Louis’ disinterest.

”Your point is?” Louis crosses his arms over his chest as he faces Harry again, eyebrows raised in skepticism. Honestly, Harry needs to get a grip.

”My point is,” Harry says patiently, ”that maybe it’s time you tried dating again.”

Louis pretends he didn’t hear that and walks away. And if later he lies to Niall and says Harry wants him in the back so he can look up Tall Hair’s name, then that’s probably just a fantasy and not at all what happened.

*

It’s the day after, and Louis is in the back room having a well-deserved break, when Niall scurries in.

”There’s someone here asking for you,” he says.

”I’m on my break.”

”I don’t think it’s a working matter,” Niall tries. Louis sighs.

”Fine.”

Louis follows Niall out of the break room, teacup still in hand. His grip on it tightens considerably when he sees who it is.

Tall triangle guy. Nick, as he now knows his name is.

”Was there a problem?” Louis raises a skeptical eyebrow. This has never happened before.

“Oh no, no problem. I just– I want to ask you out,” Nick says hastily.

Louis chokes on his tea. “You want what now?”

“I was just wondering if I could take you out sometime maybe,” Nick clarifies, so yeah, Louis heard him right. It’s still unbelievable, though.

“You’re just waltzing in here to ask me out?”

Nick makes an exasperated hand gesture. “I would have got another tattoo, but then if you said no I’d have a permanent reminder of the rejection, and that’s a bit too self-deprecating even for me.”

Louis laughs a little, and feels his cheeks heat up. He might not have dated for a while, but he knows that this is the part where he needs to say yes or no. It happens every now and then that someone asks him on a date, and he usually says no. He has good reason to, he thinks.

He should say no to this guy, too. But he wants to see that smile again.

“I wouldn’t have said no.” Louis keeps his gaze firmly on Nick’s shoes. They’re douchey boots that look scuffed around the toes.

There’s no response, so Louis has to look up. Nick is still there, grinning at him.

“Excellent,” he says. “How about Friday?”

*

And that’s how Louis ends up in a wet Hyde Park on a Friday night. The rain is the kind you don’t feel hitting you, but it seeps right through any clothing you have on. Louis isn’t wearing rain-appropriate clothes, but he knows that it wouldn’t have helped with this kind of rain anyway. It’s a somewhat comforting thought.

Louis’ teeth are chattering. “What were you thinking?” He can’t believe he said yes to this.

Nick is staring at a naked tree. He does not respond.

“Seriously,” Louis says. “It’s October and it’s nighttime.”

The rain is quiet; all Louis can hear is the gravel shifting under his feet as he balances his weight from one foot to another to keep his circulation going.

Nick sighs and looks from the tree to Louis. His tall hair has deflated and is sticking to his forehead, dejected.

“I thought it would be like, quirky and romantic,” he says. Then sighs again. “I guess I’m not Zooey Deschanel.”

Louis laughs. “I would’ve thought it was obvious.” Pause. “That you’re not Zooey Deschanel, I mean.”

Nick nods thoughtfully. ”I’m probably more like Hugh Grant, to be honest.”

”You have a book shop?” Louis quirks a skeptical eyebrow.

”I actually do, yeah! Though it’s not in Notting Hill. Or in the nineties. Or specialised in travel. I don’t own it, either, I just work in it.”

”But otherwise, just like Hugh Grant.”

His hands are starting to feel numb, because of course he didn’t bring gloves. Nick didn’t either, by the looks of it; his hands are firmly lodged in his pockets.

“Come on,” Louis says. “Let’s go to a pub and drink something warm.”

“Oh yeah,” Nick lights up, “let’s get irish coffee!”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “I hate coffee. Is there such a thing as an irish tea, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Nick says as they start walking back to the gates. “But I bet it can exist if you try hard enough and believe in yourself.”

That makes Louis laugh, despite everything. ”I do believe in irish tea, I do, I do!” he chirps, and lets his steps bounce a little off the dark pavement.

Nick laughs and it radiates like Louis remembered.

They walk into the very first pub they see, shedding their wet jackets as soon as they step in.

“I wish it wasn’t bad manners to take your shoes off in public places,” Louis says wistfully. “My feet are very uncomfortable.”

Nick barks out a laugh, so loud he gets a sour look from an elderly couple nearby and has to cover his moth with his hand until it’s died down.

“I’m sorry,” he says to the couple. “Get us a table,” he tells Louis, “and I’ll fix drinks. Good?”

Louis nods. “Aye aye, captain!” he says, and does a little salute, because why not.

It looks like Nick is on the verge of laughing again, but he holds it in and hands his jacket to Louis before making his way to the bar.

The only table available is tiny and in a corner, and there are no proper chairs, just little stools with leather seats. Louis looks for somewhere to hang their jackets, but doesn’t find anywhere, so he folds them and puts them under the table. Sorted.

He sits down and folds his hands over the table, determined not to look to the bar. To the bar, where a hot man is getting him a drink. Louis smiles to himself and draws an invisible circle on the dark wood. It feels nice, having someone take care of him.

When Nick arrives, he’s carrying a tray. There’s an irish coffee glass, a cup of tea, and a shot. Louis furrows his brows, and Nick puts the tray down on the tiny table, almost completely covering it.

“Hello!” he beams.

“Hi,” Louis responds slowly.

“I got you a drink,” Nick says, and points to the tea.

“You got me tea and a shot?”

“Right!” Nick sits down and slaps his forehead. “See, you said that thing about irish tea, so I thought about it, and see, this is Earl Grey tea, which I hope you like, but who doesn’t really, and the shot is Limoncello! Tea with lemon!”

He makes a celebratory hand gesture and beams at Louis again. Louis looks at the tea and the shot, and then at Nick, and a very nice feeling starts to spread in him.

“I love Earl Grey,” he says.

Nick is still beaming like he’s trying to make up for the lack of sunlight outside. “Excellent,” he says. “Would you like me to mix your drink for you?”

He makes a gesture toward the shot, but Louis is quicker. “No need,” he says as he pours the spirit into the tea. “I am a very capable independent man, you know,” he says in a joking tone.

“Of course you are,” Nick says, and takes his glass in hand. “Cheers, then.”

Louis lifts his cup. It burns his fingers a little.

“Cheers,” he says, looks Nick in the eye, and drinks.

The tea drink is surprisingly good. It’s hot and tangy and new and settles nicely in Louis’ stomach.

“This is good,” he tells Nick. “I like it.”

Nick licks some cream from his upper lip before replying, “that’s a relief. Not all my date ideas are shit, then.”

Louis can’t stop the giggle that breaks through his body, making tiny waves in the tea cup he’s still holding in the air.

“No, not all shit,” he says. He looks down on the table. There’s a slurping sound when Nick takes another sip of his disgusting coffee drink, and a clank when he puts the glass down.

“So,” he says, and Louis looks up at him. His hair is starting to dry; apparently it’s a little bit curly. “What’s your favourite tattoo?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “What an inspired question to ask a tattoo artist,” he says teasingly, and to his delight, Nick looks embarrassed. Louis smiles. “I’m joking, it’s fine. I think my favourite is probably my chest piece, actually.”

”Oh!” Nick sounds very into this. ”Can I see it?”

”I’m not going to take my shirt off in a pub, you weirdo.” Louis feels warm.

Nick laughs. ”Right, sorry. I guess I got a little over excited. I just think tattoos are so interesting, like why people get them and stuff. There’s usually a good story behind it. Good way to get to know people.”

Louis swallows. ”Maybe some other time.” Nick looks puzzled, and Louis hurries to say, “I guess I can’t ask you about your favourite tattoo, how unfair.”

The bemused look on Nick’s face is replaced by a charmed one. “Afraid not,” he says. “Although, if I ever get that tattoo of Beyoncé’s face on my thigh, that will be my favourite.”

Louis laughs. “Once I did Bieber’s face on someone’s back. Turned out beautiful, actually.”

“So you think Bieber is beautiful?” Nick looks at Louis and it’s a challenge.

“Please,” Louis huffs. “I can make anyone’s face beautiful.”

Nick laughs, and Louis grins, and the danger is over for now. They keep talking, light stuff such as favourite tv shows and films, and they tease and laugh, and yeah, Louis could get used to this part of it. By the time they leave he’s forgotten about his wet feet and almost leaves his jacket on the floor.

They say goodbye with a hug, and Louis is relieved. He can totally do the dating thing if it can be like this. When he goes to sleep, the last thing he thinks about is how Nick invented a drink for him.

*

Louis spends his Saturday with himself, painting his toenails and watching the Kardashians. When he makes himself tea, he grins stupidly into the cup before he can realise what he’s doing and stop it.

On Sunday he goes into work again, and is greeted by Niall’s expectant face.

“Good morning, Niall,” Louis says curtly.

“How did it go?” Niall looks expectant. Urgh.

“Oh, it was a lovely evening of ‘none of your business’, followed by a long night of ‘leave me alone’.”

He laughs. Of course Niall responds to being snubbed with laughter. “Good luck trying to keep that facade up with Harry,” he says.

Louis huffs and walks away from the front desk, into the back room. Harry has made tea, bless him, and Louis pours himself a cup.

“Hello!” Harry exits the tiny toilet like he’s emerging from a luxurious velvet curtain.

“It’s Sunday,” Louis deadpans. “Why are you so happy?”

“It’s God’s day,” Harry says seriously, then laughs. “Nah, but you went on a date after about a thousand years of moping, and I’m excited to hear about it.”

“I wasn’t moping,” Louis corrects him, “I was heartbroken. ‘S different.” He sips tea.

“Details,” Harry says and waves his hand dismissively. “How was the hair, anyway? Tell meee.”

Louis laughs a little. “It was… Nice. Fun, maybe. Weird. I don’t know.” He remembers the tea drink and feels his face go hot.

“Are you blushing?!” Harry sounds way too pleased, and he’s grinning, and Louis doesn’t blush, okay, he’s manly as hell.

“I most certainly am not blushing,” he says firmly. “This tea is hot, is all.”

“Funny,” Harry says, “because I made it like half an hour ago.”

Louis looks him in the eye and Harry looks back. After a few second, Louis relents.

“Fine,” he says. “Yes, I like him. But it’s like… It’s so much. You know? He asked about my favourite tattoo, so I told him because I’m an idiot, clearly, but I didn’t come out. And then there’s the other thing, too, you know?” He groans. “Urgh, there’s just so much, and it’s so tiring, and no one will ever want to be with me, and this is why I don’t go on dates.”

“Hey,” Harry says, and the teasing is gone from his voice now. He puts a hand on Louis’ shoulder, covering the horns of the stag with his palm. “That’s not true. I know it’s hard, but it’s not like you’re the only one. There are people like you out there, and you could very well meet one of them at any time.”

Louis sighs. It feels nice to have Harry’s friendly hand on him.

“I guess you’re right, technically,” he says. “It’s just… It’s so tiring.”

“I know, love,” Harry says. “But this one seems nice, yeah?”

He removes his hand and Louis’s shoulder is a little cold. Maybe it’s too chilly to wear a tank top.

“He mostly seems ridiculous,” Louis mutters.

“Just your type, then,” Harry says and sticks his tongue out.

It’s a cheap trick to pull Louis out of his worrying, but it works. Louis sticks his tongue out back at Harry, then puts his tea down.

“All right,” he says. “Let’s get to work.”

After Louis has done a lyric tattoo on a wrist and a wreath around a forearm, he’s well deserving of a break. His phone is in the back room, and he picks it up thinking he’ll pass time on Instagram while he waits for the water to boil. Only there’s a text from Nick waiting for him.

That was fast.

Biting his lip to keep the smile inside, Louis opens it.

It’s a monkey emoji. Nothing else. Just the emoji. It was sent over an hour ago, so it doesn’t look like there’s going to be an explanation either.

Louis sends back a random red circle emoji.

’That’s not an animal’ comes Nick’s response. Is he trying to be quirky again? Louis’ face is scrunched up, trying to both smile and frown at the same time. He doesn’t know if he’s more amused or annoyed.

But he sends Nick a bee.

While he waits for Nick to respond, he makes his tea. It doesn’t take the thirty seconds for Nick to send him a dolphin.

Louis sends him a dragon.

Nick sends Louis a blue whale emoji, to which Louis responds ’oooh, I wanna go to the museum!!’

’There’s a ton of museums in london, you have to be more specific love’

’Yes but how many have a big blue whale? You know which one i mean, asshat’

*

It’s Saturday, which means there will be a ton of people at the museum. Louis squeezes into the tube and feels like he’s boiling in his thick jumper and knitted beanie, but he really needed them on the way there from his flat. When he gets off the tube – with about half the people in the car – he’s an unflattering shade of red and desperately trying to make it go down by pressing his cold fingers against his face to cool it down. But when he finds Nick on the square, he looks about the same.

”Autumn is not my most flattering season,” Louis says, and feels his cheeks go redder because he admitted to caring about what he looks like. Damn.

”Really?” Nick says lightly. ”I find autumn to be very adulatory. For me, I mean.” His eyes glint at Louis, challenging him.

Louis rolls his eyes. ”We better get in line,” he says, ”or we won’t get to see the whale.”

The line is loud, filled with excited children and a bit less than excited parents. There are a few couples too, though, keeping each other’s hands warm and silently smiling at each other. Nick is talking about a new line of notebooks they’ve got at his bookshop (”they’re so pretty, little monsters on all of them but like, cute monsters, and the art style is so fantastic”) and Louis is listening with half an ear. He glances at a couple in front of them. Then he glances down at his own hand.

Nick is gesticulating when he talks, ever enthusiastic, and Louis wants time to stop for a second. The autumn air is chilly but fresh. Louis takes a deep breath.

”But if a notebook is too nice, maybe people won’t use it,” he says.

The line moves forward just then, and Nick takes the few steps with his head turned to Louis.

”What do you mean?”

They stop when the couple in front of them stops, and Louis notes that they’re still holding hands.

”I mean like, a lot of people go around waiting for their real lives to start,” he says. ”So if you buy a nice-looking notebook, you might not want to use it, you want to save it for when you get that brilliant novel idea, or for when you move to Paris and keeping a diary will be worth the trouble, or whatever it is you dream of. Only it never happens, and you just have this beautiful notebook that’s empty.”

Louis takes a deep breath. He didn’t plan on that much to spill out. But the line starts moving, saving him from Nick’s response, and this time it’s their turn to get in. Louis runs to the bathroom to get his beanie off and fix his hair. When he gets out of there, Nick is waiting by a locker, ready for Louis’ jacket to get shoved in. It’s so simple and natural, like Nick has waited for him a thousand times. Louis avoids Nick’s gaze as he stuffs his jacket in next to Nick’s.

”Let’s go!” he exclaims.

On the escalator, he stands two steps above Nick so he can look down on him. Nick is looking up at the globe and the constellations, but Louis is looking at Nick. When Nick notices Louis looking, though, he quickly looks up.

”This is so cool,” he says, voice a little raspy.

”Definitely,” Nick says. ”I don’t think I’ve been here since I was a kid. Didn’t think I’d still like it.”

”And yet you agreed to come,” Louis says teasingly as they step off. ”That into me, are you?”

He turns his head back to look at Nick, eyebrows raised and smirking, but the earnest face that meets him completely throws him off.

”Actually–” Nick starts, but Louis interrupts him.

”Let’s start with the earthquake simulator!” He says, and then he runs for it.

*

They’re in line for the dinosaurs, and once again there’s a couple in front of them. Louis looks at their intwined hands, then at his hand, dangling not far from Nick’s, then lifts his gaze to Nick’s face. Nick is looking at him. And then he reaches out his hand.

Louis takes it.

”We can’t let them beat us,” Nick whispers, and everything Louis is feeling manifests in a laugh. He tries to keep it quiet – they’re in a museum – but in vain. His mix of happy-nervous-scared-elated echoes of the walls, and Nick chuckles with him, and his hand is big and warm and envelops Louis’, and Louis could definitely live with this. One of the people in front of them turns around and gives them a stern look, which only makes it worse.

”Do you think Tyrannosauruses can hold hands?” Nick asks when they watch the moving model of one. ”Because of the short arms, I mean.”

Louis pretends to ponder this. ”I reckon it’d be difficult,” he says seriously. ”You know, because of the arms.”

Nick nods somberly. ”Because of the arms.”

He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and with some trouble gets his phone out to take a picture of the Tyrannosaurus. ”For Instagram,” he explains as they have to move on to the rest of the dinosaurs.

”Sure sure,” Louis says lightly. He has an Instagram but he doesn’t use it much, and he’s wondering how he can get Nick’s without being too obvious about it.

”Do you have instagram? I’ll add you.” Nick smiles at him with his phone ready.

That was easier than Louis expected.

”I don’t use it much, but yeah. It’s louink.”

Nick is still holding his hand as he types it in and follows Louis. It shouldn’t make Louis feel as bubbly as it does.

*

There are a few days where they send each other emojis, and conversations spin from them. It’s fun, and easy, but there’s always a voice in the back of Louis’ head saying: you don’t know if you can trust him. Tall, cute guys with an affinity for emojis can be trans- and acephobic too.

Louis can’t remember anyone who hasn’t been, actually.

But he can’t recall having this much fun with anyone else, either. He likes to think it means something. There’s a crush growing in his chest, taking root in his stomach and swaying through his chest. It blows right around his heavy heart.

Louis lets out a shuddering sigh and never turns his phone off.

*

Nick sends him the tea emoji. Nothing else. Louis grins and taps out a reply while the kettle hums as it’s getting hotter.

‘i already have tea going, but thanks’ He pauses and adds an emoji with its tongue out before he sends it.

He makes his tea, and just like every day, he makes a mental note to bring some good tea into work so he doesn’t have to drink fucking PG Tips. When he’s done and glances at his phone, there’s a reply. Fast texter then, Nick. Good to know.

‘umm no that’s a coffee emoji???’

Louis huffs. Coffee emoji? Please. He’s been in this battle before, and he’s always won. There’s already a screenshot of a google search for ‘tea emoji’ ready in the photo album titled ‘comebacks’. Louis opens it and sends the screenshot to Nick without commentary.

He grins, and pours some milk and sugar in his tea. Tastes less disgusting that way; the good tea, he wouldn’t soil with additions like that.

Nick’s response is a shocked emoji with its mouth open and hands on their face.

‘told ya’ Louis sends, and chuckles to himself because this is fun. Being right is truly his favourite thing.

‘fine’ Nick sends back. ‘you win this round. what would you like your prize to be?’

Louis grimaces because that’s bait. Date bait, if you like to rhyme. He should give that to Harry, he could put in one of his slam poems. “I won’t fall for bait, so if you wanna date, don’t make me wait” maybe? He shakes his head and grins to himself, because this is silly, this is ridiculous, and he’s about to take the bait like a clueless fish.

‘oh idk maybe on our next date you could cook for me while i lounge on a sofa??’

His blood runs faster as he hits send. There it is: next date. If Nick wants it. And then… Maybe he’ll tell Nick and there’ll be no more dates. Louis sighs and slurps on his tea. The warm liquid is usually a great comfort to him – he’s even got a tattoo to signify his love for tea – but this nervousness isn’t so easily conquered. He closes his eyes hard, pinching them together, and tries to picture a world where this wouldn’t be an issue. It doesn’t work. It’s not until his phone pings with a text, he opens his eyes again.

‘thursday??’

*

Nick lives in Mile End, apparently. Like the Pulp song. Except it’s probably gentrified to hell by now and not at all like in the 90s.

Louis knows he looks good in this t-shirt. It shows off his chest piece nicely, and highlights the straight lines of his body. He likes that. But he is nervous, there’s no denying that, when he looks from the map on his phone to Nick’s apartment.

There’s probably advice against going to someone’s home on a third date. Especially if it’s the fourth time you meet them. And they picked you up in your place of work. Louis looks up at the door and types out a text: I’m here. He doesn’t want to deal with the door phone with sweaty hands.

Nick opens wearing an apron that says ’is it just the oven, or are you hot for me?’. Oh my god. He grins goofily at Louis.

”Come in,” he says, and waves his hand. Louis follows it. The ceilings are higher in this building than the one where Louis lives, he notices, and wonders if Nick’s flat is really posh. Their steps echo and Louis keeps quiet.

When they get inside, Louis kicks off his shoes and Nick hurries back to the kitchen with an awkward smile. It really isn’t posh. The living room is also his bedroom, by the looks of it, and the kitchen is more of a designated kitchen corner, with a little counter to eat on. Nick has set plates there, but Louis is guessing that he usually eats on the sofa.

There’s a smell of garlic coming from the kitchen, and Louis sits down on the sofa. Lounging, like he said he would. Nick has music playing, some cutesy indie bullshit, pretty loudly too. Louis spins the thin black ring on his middle finger, just to have something to do with his hands.

He’s not sure what to do with himself. The sofa is comfortable, but Louis’ skin isn’t. The flat looks charming – Louis is especially fond of the Nicki Minaj poster above Nick’s bed – but Louis doesn’t know if he should be. The music streaming from the speakers by the tv is sweet.

”Hey,” Nick says, ripping Louis from his ponderings. He didn’t notice Nick walking into the living room part, but he’s in front of Louis by the speakers, turning the volume down.

”Sorry about that,” he says and offers a smile. ”Not very welcoming.”

”I thought I came here to lounge, not to make conversation,” Louis says with an eyebrow raised at Nick.

He laughs, a new melody over the harmonies he was listening to, and rolls his eyes. ”Fine,” he says to Louis. ”You lounge, and I’ll converse with myself.”

”Had a lot of practice at that in your shop?” Louis shoots, not knowing what he’s aiming for exactly, but shooting nonetheless.

”Pfft.” Nick puts a hand on his hip. ”I’ll have you know that my bookshop is quite well-visited. You have no idea how many hipster tourists walk Brick Lane every day. They fucking love me.”

”I guess they know one of their own when they see them,” Louis smirks. There is nothing a hipster hates more than being called a hipster, and there is nothing Louis finds funnier than taking advantage of that fact.

Nick huffs indignantly, just like Louis hoped. ”Whatever,” he says. ”I’ll go make food now, and I actually think I won’t talk to you, and you can see how you like that.”

The muscles in Louis’ stomach contract, and his eyes crinkle, and he feels like he’s about to jump out of an airplane with a parachute that has a 50/50 chance of working. He might soar through the sky and touch the sun – or he might fall to a painful death. It’s exhilarating and terrifying and surreal.

There’s clanking of pots coming from the kitchen, and the shrill sound of cutlery fraternising with plates. Louis swings his legs up on the sofa in an attempt to actually lounge, like he said he would, but he’s strangely aware of every inch of his skin and can’t get comfortable. He holds the position, though, gets his phone out to keep himself busy with the chatter of social media.

He registers a movement in the corner of his eye, so he looks up to see Nick unceremoniously removing his apron. Nick sees him looking and waggles his eyebrows at him.

”Dinner’s ready,” he says.

”Excellent!” Louis swings his legs down and his socked feet touch the floor. ”What are we having, then?”

Nick doesn’t answer, just waves for him to come see, and Louis pretends to be annoyed but walks over to the little counter like he was told nonetheless. There, arranged in a way that’s clearly meant to be artful, is… Louis cannot believe his eyes. It’s macaroni and cheese. The ’artful’ attempt is in the form of a twig of what looks like basil on top of it.

”Wow,” Louis says. He’s not sure if he’s sarcastic or not.

”I know.” Nick nods proudly. ”But wait! There’s more.” And he walks to a cabinet with a Kings of Leon sticker on it (really? Louis thinks, aren’t we adults here) and pulls out a bottle of wine. Tesco’s own brand, no less.

”I’m truly getting spoiled tonight,” Louis says, definitely sarcastic this time.

But Nick just laughs it off, and pours wine in the glasses. ”Sit down,” he tells Louis, and Louis sits.

The sound of wine being poured sounds like a babbling brook to the backdrop of these spring sounding jangly guitars. Louis looks up at Nick, who meets his eye and quirks the corner of his mouth into the younger cousin of a smile.

Nick puts the bottle down on the counter next to his own plate, and sits down. ”All right?”

Louis nods. ”Any food I don’t have to cook myself is a luxury, honestly,” he says.

”Well, dig in then!”

While they’re eating Louis discovers a few things. For one, Nick is even more ridiculous than he first thought. Apparently he once refused to sell a copy of his favourite book because the customer ’didn’t look worthy’. Who does that? What does that even mean? Louis laughs, and eats, and drinks. Another discovery is that Nick can keep up with him. Sometimes Louis gets sinister, and a lot of people don’t handle that well, but Nick just shoots back. Doesn’t seem bothered. Louis’ stomach is full and he’s warm from the inside and maybe. Maybe.

*

It’s been two days since Louis had dinner with Nick and he’s incredibly uncomfortable. Nick keeps texting him random emojis, seemingly just to see what response they’ll get. And Louis, to his own annoyance, responds without even waiting for a while, like he’s not even pretending that he’s not zero centimeters from his phone at all times. It’s awful. It’s also quite wonderful.

And that’s. That is something Louis does not know what to do with.

He’s at Harry’s, and they’re watching Pride. It’s one of their favourites; this is not the first time they’ve seen it and it surely won’t be the last. This time, though, Louis keeps missing things because he’s looking at his phone.

Nick’s sent him a honey emoji. Louis rather suspects he’s being baited again, but he’s not falling for it this time. No sir.

”You haven’t looked away from your phone in the past hour,” Harry observes.

Louis demonstratively shoves it in his pocket and raises his eyebrows at Harry. ”There,” he says. ”Better?”

”Mm, not really,” Harry says. ”But it might be better if you told me how your dating is going.”

Harry is a shithead and Louis doesn’t know why they’re friends.

”Fine, I guess,” Louis mutters. He swallows; he doesn’t want to talk too much about this because he’s above gushing, so high above gushing, but he can’t promise he won’t do that if he goes into how Nick sent him the tulip bouquet emoji and how that led to a serious discussion about flora. (Nick is more of a cacti guy. Louis likes sunflowers. They both hate lavender.)

”That’s nice,” Harry says. He leans back on the sofa, and doesn’t say anything else. Louis had expected him to pry more.

”Yeah, we had dinner,” he offers. ”With Tesco brand wine.”

Harry snorts in amusement. ”Really?”

Louis nods. ”It was ridiculous,” he says, because it was. ”But quite nice.”

”That’s great,” Harry says. ”Sounds like someone you’ll keep seeing, then?”

There it is. Louis knew he wanted to know more. Well, he’s gonna.

”I don’t know,” Louis says. ”He’s going to want to fuck me eventually, they all do.”

Harry’s eyebrows look troubled by this statement. Louis’ eyebrows raise in response, as if to say ’what? It’s true’.

”You don’t know that,” Harry says. His words are clearly meant to be comforting. As if wrapping a soft blanket around Louis’ armor would achieve anything.

”That’s easy for you to say,” Louis snaps. ”Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be left by someone who really likes you just because you don’t do …that?” Harry looks down. ”Well, I’ll tell you. It hurts like a motherfucker to be dumped because of something you can’t change, because of who you are, and there’s nothing you can do, you’ll never be quite enough to be with someone.”

Louis needs a breath. His chest is heaving. ”I mean,” he goes on, ”maybe guys would be okay with the trans thing if they at least could fuck me in the ass.” He’s sarcastic and snarky but the only one his words are hurting is himself.

”Can I hug you?” Harry asks.

Louis’ hands drop and land on the sofa. Suddenly he feels more like crying than screaming. He nods, but doesn’t wait for Harry to embrace him, crawls into his lap instead. Harry’s shoulder’s are broad and Louis places his head there, his cheekbone slotting perfectly against Harry’s collarbone. He’s not crying but he’s fairly sure he’s got a ton of lead in his stomach. Harry wraps his arms around him and strokes his back in silence.

”Sorry,” Louis mumbles.

”’S okay,” Harry whispers. ”I got you.”

They stay like that for a while, the film going in the background. Louis feels like he’s heard the words ”lesbians and gays support the miners” about a thousand times in the past hour. He sniffles. This wasn’t how their cozy night in was supposed to go.

”You know,” Harry says softly, ”if you want to keep seeing this guy, you might want to consider asking him?”

It’s like Louis’ chest caves in. ”Ask him what, exactly?”

”If he thinks sex is an important part of a relationship,” Harry says calmly. Of course he’s calm, that’s easy for him to say.

Louis swallows. ”But I don’t want this to end already,” he whispers.

Harry strokes his back, and behind him Louis hears how the activist group gets the front of the pride parade because with the miners that came to support them, they’re too many.

”You don’t have to,” Harry says, his hands warm and sure and comforting on Louis’ back. ”You can break it off if you’d prefer that. But since this is on your mind, it seems to me like it would be good to talk about it.”

He’s right. Louis knows this. He stays silent, lets Harry hold him, and considers. It might be better to rip the band-aid off as soon as possible, before anything gets infected. But he really really doesn’t want this to end yet. There are new emojis now, and they haven’t even gone through the old ones.

The credits are rolling and Harry is still stroking his back. Friendship is nice and easy, Louis thinks. Him and Harry had clicked instantly when they met in sixth form, and that was that. Harry had been there through Louis’ self-discovery, held his hand (sometimes literally) during his transition, was with him in the hospital when he’d had his top surgery. And when he’d healed up, Harry had been the one to do his celebratory chest piece. ’It is what it is’, because Louis is who he is, regardless of what people assumed when he was born with a vagina.

But it’s easier for Harry to be supportive, Louis thinks, a little bitterly. No one assumes that you should have sex with your friends like they do if you have a romantic partner. Louis’ stomach twists again.

”I guess it’s time to go,” he says weakly.

”You can stay over if you want,” Harry offers, with that pitying crease between his eyebrows, and no thanks.

”I’m fine,” Louis says, and untangles himself from Harry’s arms. His limbs feel unsure when he stretches them out. ”Thanks, though.”

They hug goodbye and Louis is halfway home before he realises that he’s forgotten to put any music on. His earphones are lodged in his ears but there’s no sound except his thoughts and the drunk people around him. Louis shakes his head and finds an album.

He presses play and closes his eyes.

*

On Sunday, Louis wakes up at noon to a text from Nick.

’Hey, i was thinking, do you want to see where i work?’

Tongue out emoji and book pile emoji.

Louis feels a terribly warm feeling spread in his chest, his body still sleep-soft, until he remembers and his chest tenses up instead. He needs tea to deal with this.

He pads from his bed to his kettle with his mind on Brick Lane. Does he want to see a wanky bookshop? Yes, he does, annoyingly enough. When he’s put some water in the kettle and got his favourite mug ready with a tea bag in it, he hops up on the counter next to the kettle. He turns his phone over in his hand and bargains with himself.

Maybe he can go on one more date and then he can ask Nick. See what he thinks. Maybe it won’t be like before. Louis bites his lip, dangling his legs, feeling his calves bounce against the drawer handles.

The kettle clicks, Louis pours his tea, and he still hasn’t decided what to tell Nick. He closes iMessage and opens Twitter instead, fills his head with a stream of nonsense as he sips.

There’s not much tea left when Nick’s name flashes at the top of his screen again. With his nerves reeling, he opens it.

It’s a sad emoji with a bunch of question marks after.

Fuck it, Louis thinks.

’Sorry was sleeping!! I’d love to :D’

’Wanna come in today?? Sundays are hectic but i think you’ll like it’

Louis makes a face. Nick thinks he’ll like it. Nick has put thought into what Louis would like. Nick thinks about Louis when they’re not together.

’All right, give me some time to freshen up and i’ll stop by’

After some thought Louis adds a sunglasses emoji. Whimsical, yet cool.

He showers quickly, thinking about what to wear. The trick is to look effortlessly handsome when you have, in fact, made an effort. Luckily Louis looks great in knitted jumpers; he thinks a grey fisherman’s jumper is the perfect compromise between manly and cozy. So that’s what he ends up wearing, with black skinnies and his denim jacket that’s lined with fake fur.

It takes him about an hour to get to Brick Lane. By the time he gets there, the Sunday market has calmed down a bit, but the street is still filled with people. Some more sober than others.

The shop is small, with moss green around the windows, and the name (Brick Lane Books) in a classical-looking font above the door. Louis stops outside for a second before going in, looking in the window. They’re displaying the notebooks Nick was talking about, with the cute monsters. There’s also classics with pulp covers; there’s a Dorian Gray with someone who looks a lot like Ryan Gosling on the cover that Louis wouldn’t mind owning. He doesn’t read a lot, but he thinks it’d look cool.

When he does get inside, the smell of wet clothes is overwhelming him. He’s wrinkling his nose just when Nick spots him, causing him to go from happy to confused in a microsecond. This makes Louis laugh, and he elbows his way up to the counter.

”It was the smell,” Louis explains as soon as he’s in within earshot.

”Oh!” Nick lights up. ”I thought you were disgusted with me, or the presence of great literature, or something.”

Louis snorts. ”Hardly.”

Nick has to serve a customer, and Louis observes his hands as he swiftly puts the books in a plastic bag and rings it in the till. They’re careful with the books, almost caressing them, but merciless on the buttons on the till.

”Thank you!” Nick beams at the shopper, and they smile back and say the same thing.

”Doesn’t it get tiring to always be nice?” Louis asks when the person is out of earshot.

”I would ask you if your job doesn’t require the same thing, but then I remembered.”

The joke is at his expense, and Louis shouldn’t laugh, but some kind of amused sound escapes his mouth. He tries to turn it into a cough, but Nick casts one look at him and starts laughing and that’s that. They’re laughing loudly, too brash for a dainty bookshop – several people with ragged tote bags on their shoulders turn to look at them disapprovingly – but it’s unstoppable.

They seem to be doing that a lot.

Another customer finally decides to go for – Louis leans over to see – Wuthering Heights. It’s another one of the pulp covers, and the ’Heathcliff’ looks unmistakably like Humphrey Bogart. Nick rings it in and Louis averts his gaze, lets it wander around the store. The shelves are all conveniently labeled with things like ’classics’ and ’mystery’. There are also a lot of book-related merchandise: mugs, tote bags, bookmarks, notebooks with book covers. It still smells a lot like rain and wet clothes, but now Louis is used to it, there’s a hint of paper underneath.

”The weather really sucks today,” Nick says conversationally, but Louis isn’t sure if it’s him Nick is addressing. He turns his head, and Nick is looking at him with an eyebrow quirked.

Louis nods. ”Yup. I hate the smell of wet clothes. Horrible.”

Nick’s mouth forms an ’o’ as he realises. ”That’s what the smell you were talking about was!”

He shouldn’t, but Louis laughs a little. ”Yeah.”

In the corner of his eye Louis has a vague notion of the customers, circling the shop slowly, but Nick is looking at Louis, and he’s got laughter in his eyes too.

Louis doesn’t know how it happens, but several hours pass, and Nick waves goodbye to the last costumer. He turns the sign so it says ”CLOSED”, then turns to Louis.

”I just have to clean up a little bit,” he says, ”but that should only be fifteen minutes or so. If you don’t mind waiting, we could grab tea or something?”

The counter is cutting into Louis’ arse, and it kind of hurts. Nick is looking at him with hope in his eyes and Louis— Louis wants to have tea with him, Louis wants to watch him at work every day, Louis wants to unfold every bit of his personality and read every line.

He clears his throat. ”That would have been great, but I must go, actually.”

It’s obvious that Nick is trying not to look too disappointed. ”Okay, cool,” he says, and heads for a shelf, starts putting books back in order.

”But I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Louis offers weakly. God.

That earns him a smile. ”Cool,” Nick says.

Louis takes a deep breath and lets go of the counter, walks over to Nick, the smell in the shop is definitely mostly fresh paper now, and Louis looks at the shelf behind Nick and wraps his arms around him. Nick is tall, and when he does the same, Louis feels completely enveloped. He smells like books and cologne and his flannel shirt is soft on Louis’ face and fuck.

He needs to go.

”Bye,” is all he says as he lets Nick go and walks to the door. When he’s about to turn the doorknob, he foolishly looks back, as if Nick would be watching him go?

But he is. He gives Louis a little wave, and Louis waves back, and then he’s out. It’s cold but at least it’s not raining. Louis takes a deep breath before he starts walking.

The entire bus ride Louis goes over the events of the day in his head. His insides feel swirly and everything feels fragile, but Louis is almost sure. Nick likes him. Nick likes him, and Louis likes Nick, and the next step would be acknowledging that.

Except that would force Louis to have the conversation he does not want to have.

He sleeps restlessly that night, turning his body over in his bed, and turning thoughts over in his head. When he finally falls asleep, he dreams that Humphrey Bogart takes him and Nick out for bagels.

*

It’s annoying how every tattoo Louis does makes him think about Nick. He snaps at Niall for no good reason because someone wanted a Kings of Leon lyric, and that reminded him of Nick. Harry frowns at Louis and says nothing until they’re alone in the break room.

”What’s up, Lou?” He sounds infuriatingly patient and Louis has no time for pity from Saint Styles.

”Nothing,” he grits out, and spills some milk down the side of his teacup. Stupid gross tea.

”Did you talk to him?” Harry persists. Louis hates him.

”No,” he says shortly, and takes his teacup with him and leaves the tiny puddle of milk to its destiny. Probably to be wiped up by Saint Styles. Louis huffs, and walks as angrily as he can without spilling any hot liquid on himself.

He stops at the front desk, and puts his tea down before addressing Niall. ”Sorry about before,” he mutters.

Niall looks up at him. ”Apology accepted,” he says calmly.

Louis opens his mouth, then closes it again. There doesn’t seem to be much else to say. He walks away again, unsure where to go now he’s ran away from the only sanctuary. Then he remembers that Jesy sometimes smokes in the back alley, so he takes his teacup there. She’s not there, but that’s just as well. He doesn’t need to make her angry too.

He sits down on a dirty plastic box and pretends the wind isn’t icing through him. The tea isn’t as comforting as he thought it would be, but he stays out there until he’s drank it all.

His next appointment is someone who wants a string of stars down their back, ”as close to the spine as possible”. If Louis was having a better day he wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but he finds himself biting his tongue while doing it. Why do you think stars are poetic, he thinks and wipes some blood away. They’re just burning balls of gas in the sky.

But he doesn’t say that. He inks the stars where the person wants them, stays quiet, and considers other possible ’along the spine’ tattoos. Maybe a string of popcorn.

When he next gets a break, there’s a text from Nick on his phone. The tiny piece of electronic suddenly feels very heavy in his hand. He closes his eyes, pretends Niall isn’t staring at him, then takes a deep breath and opens it.

It’s the starry sky emoji.

Louis huffs in disbelief. But what his reply will be is obvious.

’Why did you send me balls of burning gas’

’Wow’ is all Nick responds at first, but there comes three little dots immediately, so Louis waits.

’Sounds like someone is in the gutter and looking at the pavement instead of the stars’

Louis sends him a bomb emoji. Then he locks his phone and turns to Niall.

”Are you done staring?” He asks, perhaps a little more sinister than necessary.

Niall throws his hands up. ”Sorry, mate,” he says. ”Just can’t help but get curious. Your face looks all warm.”

Louis’ face was a perfectly normal temperature before, but now it does feel warm. Fucking Niall.

”Nah, I’m cool,” he says, and waves his hand dismissively as he walks away.

He’s not cool, though. He’s very warm and his phone pings in his pocket and it’s not until he’s safely locked in the tiny toilet that he looks at it. It’s a shooting star emoji. Louis is burning up, every part of his being is ablaze, his messy hair is in fact flames licking his head, and he’s forgotten everything he’s ever learned about fire safety.

The soap they keep is too strongly perfumed, the little room always smells like a strange synthetic version of peaches, and Louis feels a little sick. There are many emojis left that he could use but he can’t seem to decide.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and gets back to work.

*

When he gets off, the first thing he does is look at his phone. He’s standing by his jacket in the back room, ready to grab it and go, and he shouldn’t have looked, but there it is. And Nick has texted him a question mark emoji.

’Couldn’t u have sent a regular fucking question mark’

He doesn’t ask what Nick is wondering. The answer to that can’t be good. But the reply he does get, when he’s on the tube home trying to think of what to eat, is even worse.

’But communicating with singular emojis is our thing’

Our thing. Our. Their thing. Nick and Louis. Nick’s and Louis’ thing. That they have together. Our. Thing.

The two words rattle in Louis’ brain to the beat of the subway train, and Louis misses his stop. This has never happened before. Even when he’s blackout drunk, his autopilot knows where his stop is. But him and Nick have a THING, and Louis misses his stop.

He gets off at the next stop, and waits for the next tube back. It’s impossible to stay still; his veins are running with battery acid. He walks back and forth on the platform, taps his fingers against his legs, feels almost drunk. Our thing, echoes in his brain. It’s our thing. Our. Fucking. Thing.

Not ten minutes later he gets of the tube at the right stop, and by the time he steps out into the grey autumn afternoon outside, he’s come to a decision. He feels light. As peaceful as you can be when your veins are filled with battery acid. He half-jogs home, and in his brain scrambles for what to tell Nick.

He starts out with, ’oh yeah, our thing, my mistake’.

Then he slumps down on his sofa and calls Harry. ”I’m going to ask him,” he says breathlessly before Harry’s even said his ’hello’. ”I’m sorry about before, I was a dick, but I’m going to ask him.”

”That’s so great,” comes Harry’s slow voice. ”I really hope it goes well.”

Louis’ mouth gets a little dry at that. He’s been so buzzed on his decision the fear hasn’t fully hit him yet. Of course, Harry reads his silence too well.

”But if it doesn’t,” he continues, ”he’s a fool and you’re better off.”

”Thanks,” Louis says, and he tries to sound sarcastic, but his voice rasps and sounds thin and little. He sighs. ”I just wish that for once I’d be better off with someone, you know?”

”I know.” Harry’s voice is soothing. He might not be like Louis, but he knows him. Accepts him and supports him.

”Thank you,” Louis says quietly.

”I’ll see you tomorrow at work, we can chat more then, yeah? I’m just about to go into my spin class so I kind of have to go.”

Louis laughs. ”Go spin,” he says. ”See ya tomorrow.”

*

Louis texts Nick a pizza slice emoji. He’s got a plan with this, and he’s chewing his lip as he waits for the reply. It comes almost instantly, which his lip is thankful for, and is two pink hearts swirling.

’Good’, he types. ’Come to dinner at my place wednesday?’

Thumbs up emoji.

It’s their thing and Louis feels the battery acid rushing again.

Two days later, Nick is on his way to Louis’ home for the first time. He’s already texted Louis a clock emoji, which Louis assumes means that he thinks it’s far away. ’Well i came all the way to your place’ is his response, to which Nick responds with five more clock emojis.

Louis shakes his head but he can also feel his cheeks going red. He got rid of the unnecessary shit laying about in his living room and kitchen (mostly by heaving what doesn’t go in the rubbish into his bedroom). There’s beer in the fridge and a pizza in the oven. Louis is in his best jeans and favourite plaid shirt, buttoned all the way up, and his hair looks perfect. Only he keeps messing with his fringe to keep his hands busy, so that might not last long.

When Nick arrives, Louis’ hands are sticky from sweat and hair product.

”Hiya,” Nick chirps and smiles expectantly at Louis, and it hits Louis that Nick doesn’t know that this is going to be something important. He needs a beer now.

”Hello!” Louis hears his own voice being loud and cheerful and it’s like it belongs to someone else. Nick shrugs his coat off and Louis walks away from him, toward the fridge. ”Would you like a beer?” He yells over his shoulder and hears Nick chuckle back in the hallway.

”Yes please,” comes from the door area, and then the patter of feet.

Louis dives into the fridge and takes a deep breath. He’s chill. He can do this.

”I can’t believe you drink Brooklyn lager,” Nick says and takes a critical sip. ”If you’re going Brooklyn brewery, you gotta have the IPA.”

”You’re just saying that because there’s more alcohol in the IPA,” Louis says, and raises his eyebrows in challenge as he takes a sip.

Nick laughs. Again. He’s been doing that, laughing when Louis says something, like he thinks Louis is funny. Louis takes three large gulps in one go.

”I’m offended that you think such low things of me,” Nick says, but his voice is playful. He’s resting against the counter with the beer in his hand, t-shirt hanging off his collarbones just so, and his slanted smile is doing things to Louis. If emojis were real he’d send a bomb one right now.

”If you only knew the low things I think of you,” he says instead. Why does Nick laugh so often?

Louis turns around to check on the pizza. He’s made it himself, and he’s quite proud of this achievement. There’s Marmite on it. Harry never wants to eat Louis’ Marmite meals (he’s tried it on basically everything: it’s good with chicken, less good on ice cream) with him, and this is a test for Nick. Some might say that it’s unfair to test people without them knowing that they’re being tested, but Louis can cook what he wants, okay.

”Are you hungry?” he asks Nick into the oven to fill the silence. He should have put some music on. This dating thing isn’t exactly comfortable for him, he’s not used to it, doesn’t have any moves. Just emojis.

”Yeah, I am actually. It smells great.”

When Louis stands up again he tries to figure out if Nick was looking at his bum. Judging by the innocent smile on Nick’s face, he probably was.

”Of course it does.” Louis wipes his hands on his jeans and reaches for his beer. ”It’s almost done, so. You can sit down or whatever.”

”What’s whatever?” Nick has a glint in his eye.

”Or,” Louis says in an impatient voice, ”you could keep standing around looking at my arse. But fair warning, you’re not hitting it.”

After the words have left his mouth he freezes. He could easily have added ’now or ever’ to that sentence and had it over and done with. What if Nick understands that, and leaves right now?

Nick doesn’t leave. Nick shrugs.

”I guess I’ll go sit down.” Nick smiles at Louis and walks over to the little table that Louis has cleaned up for the first time in forever for exactly that purpose.

And Louis is still frozen. He can feel the heat from the oven behind him, and the bottle is cold in his hand, and he has no idea what just happened. Possibly nothing.

Possibly something.

It turns out that Nick does like Marmite pizza. ”Who knew Marmite was so good with goat cheese?” he says, fascinated, and chews happily.

Louis makes a ”told you so” face and gestures to himself with a self-satisfied smile.

”Apart from you, Lewis, the master of cooking, of course,” Nick adds teasingly.

”Sadly, not many recognize the greatness of Marmite pizza,” Louis says seriously. ”It’s an acquired taste and it bodes well for you that you like it.”

Nick looks happy with that. ”Good. Now, admit that Brooklyn IPA is nicer than their lager.”

Louis rolls his eyes. ”I just thought we shouldn’t get drunk, pretentious boy. Some of us have artistry to perform tomorrow.”

”Artistry,” Nick giggles, but he stops when Louis stares him down, his fork with a stabbed tomato on it pointing at Nick. ”Sorry, sorry, of course you’re an artist.”

Louis nods and puts the stabbed tomato in his mouth. ”Damn right.”

And like that, it goes on. Back and forth, push and pull, Nick and Louis. They have their thing. When they’ve finished eating and wash down the beer with water, Louis really can’t put it off any longer. He’s angry at himself for being so nervous; he knows there’s nothing wrong with him, and if Nick thinks so he should fuck off forever.

He just really doesn’t want Nick to think so.

Louis takes a deep breath. It’s time.

”I have a question for you,” he starts, looking at Nick’s face for about a microsecond before he skirts his eyes away to the sofa somewhere behind him.

”Okay,” Nick says, slower than usual. ”Ask away.”

Louis needs another breath. He looks down and counts down. Three, two, one.

”Do you think sex is important in a relationship?”

He stares at the pizza crumbs on his plate and tries to keep up with his own heartbeat. Nick is silent for possibly the longest seconds in the history of forever.

”No,” he says finally. Louis’ head snaps up like he’s a dog about to get a treat. Nick is looking pensive, and open, and Louis is battery acid. ”I’ve had it, but… It doesn’t really interest me a lot?”

Louis doesn’t mean to smile, he doesn’t, but his cheeks stretch into a display of happiness anyway.

”What, do you?”

Louis’ smile falters. ”Well, no. I’m… I don’t like sex. At all. I don’t have it. I’m asexual.”

There’s another silence, and it’s probably not even that long, but Louis has time to feel like he’s jumping out of an airplane without a parachute and it seems like the ground will never hit him.

”Okay,” Nick says. Okay. Okay. It’s okay.

”Okay?” Louis hates how small his voice sounds in that moment, and how high it is.

Nick nods fervently, with big movements, like he’s trying to hammer the word ’okay’ into Louis’ head with his chin. It kind of works.

”I still want to see you, if that’s what this is about,” he says then, and Louis hits the ground and doesn’t get hurt.

”Cool,” he says. ”Want another beer, then?”

Nick laughs but Louis didn’t mean to be funny, not this time. ”I’d love to,” he says, and as Louis goes to get it he feels like the flat is a flower meadow and the electric light is the summer sun, shining on them in November.

*

When Louis comes into work the next day with a smile on his face, he expects Harry to pounce and prod him for information. But Harry merely smiles back, says hello, and gets back to the sketch he’s working on.

Louis would wonder why, but he can’t be arsed this time. Not today. He whistles and gets to the first job of the day, which is covering up an old name tattoo with flowers.

”Is the name an ex-partner or something, then?”

The person he’s about to tattoo sighs. ”Isn’t it always?”

Louis chortles. ”You’re not alone in this predicament, no. But not to worry, we’ll fix you right up!”

”Tattoos are meant to be permanent,” the person says. ”But I guess they aren’t really.”

Louis hums noncommittally and changes the subject to more practical matters. But as he transforms the name Brendon to a rank of cherry blossoms, he ponders the subject of permanence. He’s always seen life and tattoos in the same way: not permanent. Life is short. Too short not to get that silly tattoo you want. Too short to worry about ”how that will look when you’re in a retirement home”. Too short to fret about trends.

But covering up a tattoo because it was important to a version of you that no longer exists is different. Louis has never done that, has always viewed it as a physical manifestation of his history. His past made him who he is, in a way, and he tries not to regret it. And even if he covered something up, it would still be there underneath.

Then again, he would never tattoo someone else’s name on him. He does have David Beckham’s shirt number tattooed under his foot, but that hardly counts. Beckham will never dump him, hopefully.

The person with the cherry blossoms seems very happy with it in the end, so Louis counts that as a success.

When he gets to take a break, Harry is waiting for him in the break room. Of course.

”Hello, Harry,” he says, and heads for the kettle with great determination. ”Before you ask,” he says while filling it up, ”yes, I saw Nick again, and yes, I did ask him.”

He spins around to a Harry who’s looking at him with wide eyes and a hopeful smile. ”And?”

”And it’s all good.” Louis can feel his face burst out into some bizarre ’I’m about to start giggling like a smitten teenager any second’ expression. Damn it.

”That’s great, Lou!” Harry slaps his shoulder and grins at him. ”It’s okay, you can gush, I understand. Tall men make me blush too.”

”Oh, fuck off.” Louis holds his face together for a second before he starts laughing.

Nothing is funny; he’s just happy.

Harry sticks his tongue out at Louis and makes his tea. Louis balances his own cup in one hand and his phone in the other; he wants to send Nick the smiley emoji with eyebrows. The one with a little blush. By the time he’s heard about what’s going on in Harry’s life and his cup is half-empty, he gets a response. It’s the winky tongue-out emoji.

It’s a good day.

*

’So how about that IPA´, Louis texts Nick that same night.

’What about it?’ Nick texts back.

’Wanna drink some? I have saturday off’. Smile with teeth emoji.

Nick sends him a 100 emoji with % after it.

And they saw each other two days ago, there are probably rules saying they should wait, but if they both want to see each other Louis doesn’t see why they can’t. He doesn’t want to wait.

It seems like this could be something lovely, and Louis is just about ready to dive in head first.

When Friday night rolls around, cold and November-y, Louis finds himself at Nick’s door again. Less nervous this time, but still fixing his hair like his life depends on it. He made the effort to go home, take a shower, and change after work. This time he’s in a loose and open plaid shirt and under it he’s wearing a tank top that shows off his chest piece. If he takes it off you can see his sleeves in all their glory. Nick better appreciate it.

Nick is wearing the most flamboyant shirt Louis has ever seen. It’s got wild flowers on it, and Louis thinks the main colour is yellow, but he’s not sure. It’s a swirl of every colour in the rainbow and Louis almost gets dizzy from looking at it.

”Nice shirt,” he says instead of hello as he walks in through the door, passing by Nick close enough that he can smell his cologne. His stomach does a little swoop. ”Did a unicorn puke on you?”

”Hello to you, too,” Nick says, his eyebrows raised and his mouth quirked in amusement as he closes the door. ”You look like a standard hipster, which I’m afraid doesn’t lend itself to very amusing insults, if that’s what we’re doing.”

”Hipster?” Louis stares at Nick. ”Takes one to know one.”

That breaks Nick. He laughs, a fucking genuine, open, laugh, and Louis can’t keep this up.

”So are we just going to stand here all night, or..?” He nods toward the sofa.

”If you didn’t start with insulting me, I might have had a chance to invite you in,” Nick points out.

”Shh,” Louis says as he takes his shoes off. ”Beer.”

Nick laughs and heads to the kitchen. Louis doesn’t know what else to do with himself, so he follows him.

”I got a few different ones,” Nick says over his shoulder. ”I thought we could just, you know, try them out.”

”Sounds like a plan,” Louis says. He’s standing by the counter, leaning on it, opening and closing the button on his shirt sleeve. When Nick hands him a cold bottle, he’s thankful to have something to do with his hands.

”Cheers,” Nick says, and clinks his bottle against Louis’. Their eyes meet and Louis swallows.

”Cheers,” he echoes, and takes a long sip.

It does taste good, actually. ”What did you think?” Nick watches him and licks a stray drop from his lips.

Louis shrugs. ”It’s all right.”

Nick raises his eyebrows. ”That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

Louis raises his eyebrows back at him and smirks. He can play this game. Without saying anything, he abandons his post at the counter, and plops himself down on the sofa like he’s right at home.

”Are you just going to stand there?”

Nick shakes his head and chuckles. ”You’re a menace, did you know?” He sits down next to Louis and looks at him with a kind of electricity in his eyes. Louis thinks that he might not be alone in feeling like his blood has been replaced by battery acid.

”It’s the one thing I’ve always been sure of,” he says proudly. ”My trademark, if you will.”

”Your personal brand?”

Louis scrounges his nose in disgust. ”I’m not selling anything.”

Nick rolls his eyes. ”It’s just a saying.”

”Whatever.”

So the night goes on. They shoot words back and forth like it’s a tennis match, swift and steady, and Louis has always hated tennis but he doesn’t hate this. Nick keeps doing that thing where he laughs at Louis like he genuinely thinks he’s funny, and Louis hopes his cocky grin doesn’t give away that he’s so weak right now. He can’t recall working this well with someone before, and he feels disarmed and disoriented but strangely not disillusioned.

They drink slowly, so when they’ve had two beers each, it’s already 1 AM.

”It’s pretty late,” Louis says and glances at his phone. ”I should go.”

Nick looks at him for a very long second. He hesitates, then says, ”you could, you know, stay here.”

Louis’ chest feels very tight. ”I don’t know.” He scrapes at the label on the beer bottle.

”I’ll make you breakfast in the morning,” Nick offers. ”I mean, I don’t have much, but there’s a bakery not far away, I could get us something.”

For a moment, Louis is quiet. He doesn’t look at Nick. He pictures waking up to breakfast, sees in his mind the delighted look on Nick’s face when he’d brought him tea and a shot on their first date, and he wants to let this happen.

There’s just one problem.

”I’m not sleeping in your bed with you,” he blurts out. ”It’s not happening. Not yet.”

He almost doesn’t want to look at Nick, see his reaction, but he’s going to have to at some point. So he does.

Nick just nods. He nods. Which usually means yes.

”That’s okay,” he says, and he’s looking at Louis with that face again.

Okay. It’s okay. ”Okay,” Louis repeats. ”Okay. Okay, then I’ll stay.”

Nick lights up. ”Yay! I really wanted to make you breakfast. Sorry if that’s weird.”

It’s not battery acid now, it’s more like… Tea. Tea heating Louis up from within, but like the Limoncello tea, making him tingle at the same time.

”I want to kiss you,” slips out of Louis’ mouth.

”Bring it, then.”

So Louis brings his little body and his large feelings over to Nick’s part of the sofa. He looks at Nick’s lips, then at his hands, then at his lips again. His cologne smells like ocean and Louis wants to go for a swim even if it’s November. He takes Nick’s hand, laces their fingers together, and meets Nick’s eyes.

”Are you ready?” He almost whispers it. A small voice for a big question.

Nick nods. ”As ready as I could have been for you,” he says in the same whisper volume.

Louis isn’t ready, but he goes for it anyway.

The kiss is at whispering volume too, but it resonates in Louis like he’s a church and Nick’s slightly chapped lips are an organ. Louis listens to it for all of two seconds before he draws back, still holding Nick’s hand.

Nick looks at him, and it’s the first time Louis has seen him look unsure. His eyes flit down to their linked hands, then back up to Louis’ face. It’s like he’s trying to decide something. Louis waits.

”Hey,” Nick starts. He’s looking at their hands now. Louis squeezes it and keeps waiting. ”You know what you told me the last time we saw each other?”

Louis tenses up. Is Nick going to change his mind already? Shit. Shit shit shit. Louis shouldn’t have allowed this to happen. Fuck.

”I have something to tell you too.” Nick’s voice snaps Louis out of his thoughts. He nods, trying to keep his breathing steady. ”I’m grey ace. Just, er, just so you know.”

The smile that takes over on Louis’ face comes from deep in his stomach. ”Excellent,” he says. ”Wonderful.”

He can feel in his hand how Nick relaxes. ”I don’t know why I was so nervous,” he admits. ”You’d come out to me, so why would you be shitty about it?”

”I wouldn’t.” Louis knows what Nick means, though. Coming out is still scary if you feel fairly sure that the reaction will be good. ”Do you want to talk more about it?”

Nick shakes his head. ”I would much prefer another kiss, if that’s an option.”

It’s just as nice the second time.

After that Louis doesn’t know what to say. He yawns pointedly, and Nick takes the hint. It only takes him a second to catch on, before he stands up and says, ”I’ll get you some sheets, yeah?”

Louis nods thankfully and watches Nick walk away. He wasn’t expecting proper sheets for just one night on a sofa. When he’s changed into one of Nick’s t-shirts in the bathroom, he wriggles in between them and marvels in the feeling of clean fabric. The t-shirt is a hideous yellow and says ’Belle & Sebastian’ on the front. It’s way too big for him, by any standard, but it’s cozy. Louis makes a mental note to ask Nick what fabric softener he uses.

The next morning Louis wakes up for a second when Nick closes the door, but he wills himself back to sleep. He was dreaming about summer and the sea and he wants to go back to that. The next time he wakes up, there’s tea and pastries on the coffee table. Nick is sitting on the floor and Louis slowly drags his sleepy limbs up into a sitting position.

”Morning,” he rasps.

Nick waves, then points to his mouth; he’s chewing something. ”Sorry,” he says when he’s swallowed, ”I was starving.”

”That’s okay,” Louis says. He’s too newly awake to make a quip about manners and guests.

Then he notices it. On the tray, right next to his cup of tea, is a slice of lemon.

Louis could get used to this. He could definitely get used to this.

Everything is slower in the morning, Nick too. They don’t talk much while they eat. It’s not as awkward as it should be. When Louis has finished his tea, he’s starting to speed up, though, teases Nick about liking Belle and Sebastian.

When they say goodbye, Nick leans down and presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek. Louis feels his face catch aflame and hurries out; he feels like he’s about to explode, and he wouldn’t want to make a mess in Nick’s flat. When he steps out of the building, he takes a deep breath of the autumn air. This is ridiculous.

On the tube home, he texts Harry about his sleepover. Harry sends him lots of exclamation points and Louis’ face still feels hot where Nick kissed it. Ridiculous.

But nice.

*

Harry is on some kind of juice cleanse. It seems awful, and Louis could swear that he saw Harry in the alley behind the studio with a cheeseburger the other day, but he’s not about to question it. But otherwise they wouldn’t be sitting in a juice bar to have some friend time. No, it’s not a place that Louis would be in, but it’s quite cozy. It’s small, doodles of fruit on the chalkboard wall, and a big window by which they are sitting at a tiny table.

”So.” Harry looks at Louis over his hideous green juice. ”Do you want to talk about your suddenly blossoming love life, or should I just go straight to whining about how I don’t have one?”

Louis hums. ”Love is a strong word,” he says.

Harry laughs at him – how dare he? – And takes a sip of his awful drink. Spinach shouldn’t go in juice, Louis thinks, surely there can be something done about this. He’s wondering which party he can vote for that would outlaw spinach juice when Harry interrupts his thoughts.

”I didn’t mean to imply you’re in love or anything like that.” He looks amused, though. The bastard.

Louis slurps on his own juice (orange and raspberry, which is a far superior juice combination) to avoid answering.

It’s not even that difficult. It’s more that this feels so new still, fragile-like, and Louis has an irrational feeling of superstition about it. Like if he says too much he’ll jinx it.

”It was very nice to get breakfast,” he says after a while. ”He even got fresh lemon and gave me a slice for my tea.”

Harry smiles over the rackety table. ”That sounds nice.”

Louis nods. ”Now it’s your turn. Go on, tell me about being single.”

He realises too late what he’s said. Harry’s eyes widen, and Louis’ cheeks go pink.

”Well, to refresh your memory,” Harry gives him a pointed look, ”being single means no breakfast is being served to me, and certainly not with a lemon slice for my tea.”

”Poor thing,” Louis says sarcastically.

Harry rolls his eyes. ”It’s not too bad. But it’s winter, you know? It’d be nice to have someone to hold hands with. It’s cold.”

”Technically, it’s still autumn.” Louis loves being a dick. He grins, pleased with himself, and awaits Harry’s reaction.

Harry waves a hand dismissively. ”Whatever, arsehole. Have fun ice skating and drinking hot chocolate under the stars, or whatever romance is, I can’t even remember.”

He actually sounds a little bitter and now Louis feels bad. ”I’m sorry. I promise I won’t go ice skating. I don’t even know how to, so.”

”You’re a true friend.” It’s a joke, but it’s also not a joke. Harry lifts his juice cup and nods toward Louis’. ”Cheers.”

”Spinach shouldn’t go in juice,” Louis tells him before he cheers-es back.

*

There’s a buzzing in Louis’ chest. He’s on the bus home, and he’s ablaze. What he had implied to Harry about not being single… When did that happen? He doesn’t want to be single, but there’s also something else he wants to tell Nick before being his boyfriend for real. If he still wants to, that is.

The bus takes a turn too quick and Louis’ stomach flips. He tries to reason with himself. Like, there’s no knowing if Nick has already figured it out. Louis likes to think he passes quite well, but he also knows that he has tells for those who look closely. Maybe Nick knows, and since he’s showing no signs of disliking Louis, is fine with it.

Why wouldn’t he be fine with it?

Louis stumbles off the bus in a hurry; he’d almost missed his stop. He seems to be doing that a lot. Hopefully when they’re dating for real he can stop being so on edge and regain focus on his surroundings.

”When they’re dating for real.” He really just thought that. Louis grimaces to himself, and shakes his head.

When he flops down on his bed and gets his phone out, Nick has texted him.

Lemon emoji.

Louis doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it; he sends back a yellow heart.

*

It’s a week later and Nick has invited Louis over to do crafts. It appears that Nick thought they would draw in the cute monster notebooks from the bookshop.

Because this is their real lives and there’s no use in waiting.

Louis draws a penis on the first page of his, and then moves on to draw on Nick’s skin. Nick lets him. Louis lets himself get carried away, draws a big cracked heart on Nick’s hip, with lightning bolts emerging from it.

“I’m going to look like a fool in the showers at the gym,” Nick says when Louis lets him see it.

“You mean more than you already do? I don’t think that’s possible, darling,” Louis says.

And Nick laughs that laugh again. It’s absurd, what it does to Louis. He puts his face really close to what he just drew so Nick can’t see his grin.

He’s in love. It’s ridiculous and too fast and completely absurd. But it’s true.

”Nick.” Louis stands up. Nick meets his eyes and nods, a small smile grazing his face. ”Remember when you asked me about my favourite tattoo?”

Nick lights up. ”Do I finally get to know what it’s about?” He looks so happy at the prospect, and Louis’ insides turn. Here goes nothing.

He nods. ”It is what it is,” he starts, looking down as if seeing his own feet would give him strength. It doesn’t. ”Well, it means that– It means that I am what I am.”

Nick’s eyebrows are furrowed. ”It’s like,” Louis continues, and he’s really not good at explaining this. ”No matter what people think they know about me, I am what I am, you know?”

”That’s beautiful.” Nick nods slowly.

Louis takes a deep breath and forces himself to look at Nick. Why is he so tall, anyway? Ridiculous. Louis’ heart is beating with the intensity of a lightning about to strike.

”I’m trans.”

Nick’s gaze doesn’t waver. He smiles down at Louis. ”Thank you for telling me,” he says.

Louis’ body relaxes, and a little laugh slips out, built on nerves but definitely an expression of happiness. ”No problem,” he says. ”Can we kiss now?”

There’s Nick’s laugh again. Louis’ favourite sound, probably. He waits a few seconds for it to subside before he stands up on his tip-toes to press a light kiss to Nick’s lips. And then to his cheeks. And then on his chest, the fabric of Nick’s shirt tickling his lips a little.

”So you like kissing,” Nick says.

Louis looks down. ”It’s okay, I guess.”

He can hear Nick chuckle. Fuck it. ”I was just wondering like, what kind of physical intimacy you like. So I know your boundaries, you know? I mean, if I’m going to be your boyfriend, I think that–”

”Boyfriend?” Louis’ neck almost snaps, he looks up so fast. At his boyfriend, apparently.

Nick looks like Louis has walked in on him on the toilet or something. ”I really just said that out loud, didn’t I? Shit.”

”Boyfriend,” Louis repeats, slower this time. Tasting it. Boyfriend. It tastes like tea with lemon and Nick’s cologne. Louis likes it.

”I didn’t mean–”

”I think you should be my boyfriend,” Louis interrupts him. ”If you want.”

Nick visibly relaxes, a smile lighting up his face. ”Okay.”

There’s a moment then, a quiet moment where they both think about the jump they’re about to do. Nick reaches for Louis’ hands, takes them both in his and envelops them completely. Louis dives in.

”I do like kissing,” he starts, ”but only the nice kind, not like, crazy sex kissing. I love cuddles, and I love sleeping in the same bed with someone. If you wake up with a boner, though, you have to take care of that yourself.” He pauses for a breath. Nick’s hands are still holding his. ”Any questions?”

Nick thinks for a moment. ”I think that was all I needed to know.” Then his face changes from serious to mischievous. ”No, actually, I’ve been meaning to ask – are you ticklish?”

Oh no. Oh no. ”Absolutely not.” Louis tries to wrangle his hands out of Nick’s to grab his wrists, but he’s too slow and Nick gets his hands free, going directly for Louis’ waist. The loud squeal that escapes him is extremely embarrassing.

”You are ticklish,” Nick grins, going in harder, and Louis is almost folded in half, trying to get words out in between giggles.

”I am – iih! – not ticklish! Fuck off!”

Nick gives him one last prod in his side before he relents. Bastard.

”I can’t believe my boyfriend is an annoying twat.” Louis’ arms are folded over his chest and he tries to glare at Nick, but Nick is making it hard for him with those delighted eyes. Fucking bullshit.

”Not as annoying as mine,” Nick says with a huge grin on his face.

”Don’t push it,” Louis huffs. ”I might change my mind, you know.”

But he knows that he won’t do that any time soon, and he suspects that Nick knows that too.

Nick takes Louis’ hand and leads him to the sofa. It feels nice to sit down after having all these feelings run through his body. Then they just. Talk. Words jump, run, and sneak between them until the sun rises. The clouds look so soft in the sky, and Louis’ eyes are sleepy but his body is wired with battery acid.

”What are you thinking?” Nick pokes him gently on his bicep. Louis flinches.

”It’s early,” Louis replies, which isn’t a reply, but he can’t be bothered to even try to put his feelings into words.

Nick nods. ”Excellent observational skills, there.”

A small huff of laughter escapes Louis. He doesn’t intend for it to, but it does. ”Shut up,” he says to Nick. ”You’re ridiculous.”

”Takes one to know one.”

Louis pokes a finger into Nick’s stomach, just to watch his face scrunch up. Nick lets it happen. Poke, poke, tentative eye contact. When Nick smiles at him, Louis stops, and lets his hand rest above Nick’s bellybutton. It’s warm and a slight outwards curve; a perfect place for a hand to rest.

”I like your belly,” Louis blurts out, and then blushes. He can hear birds chirping outside, and feels like they’re mocking him.

Nick seems caught off guard by this. ”Thanks, I guess?” He looks down on Louis’ hand. ”Made it myself.”

Ridiculous is the word for him, Louis is sure. ”Technically, I think your parents made it,” he says, just to be a dick.

Nick rolls his eyes. ”It takes guts to be gentle and kind,” he sings, while looking Louis straight in the eye. Louis knows the song, of course, has heard it a million times in various bedrooms, including his own.

The sky is turning pink. The sky is pink and Louis has a boyfriend.

*

When May arrives, Nick and Louis have shared fabric softener and clothes for almost three months. (’Sharing’ mostly means that Louis steals Nick’s jumpers and flops around with the too-long sleeves. It works for them.)

It’s Saturday when it happens. Louis is home alone, a little grumpy because they both have the day off and he’d thought they would spend it together. But Nick had some catching up to do with a friend, he claimed, so Louis is home alone. He’s sprawled on the sofa, restlessly flipping through channels, annoyed at the sunlight reflecting in the tv because it reminds him that he should probably go out. Seize the day, and all that. He wrinkles his nose. Nah.

He’s just about settled for a re-run of Skins (first generation, the best one, thank you very much) when Nick gets back.

”Hiya!” he chirps from the door as he takes off his shoes.

Louis waves from the sofa, still a bit disgruntled. He knows he has no reason to be, which only makes it worse.

”I’ve got a surprise for you,” Nick says, drawing out the ’you’ in a kind of melody.

This makes Louis perk up. ”For me?”

Nick grins and nods fervently. ”Hold on.”

He walks up to Louis until he’s standing in front of him. He’s wearing loose joggers, which is odd, since he’s usually very particular about how he looks when he’s seeing people. His fingers hook in the waistband and he starts pulling them down, right in front of him. Louis makes a face. Nick laughs.

”Relax,” he says. And then he pulls the joggers down to pool at his feet.

There’s plastic taped to his thigh. ”Did you get a tattoo?” Louis stares at him in disbelief.

Nick nods enthusiastically again. ”Sure did! Can you see what it is?”

Louis doesn’t know what to feel, but he looks closer. He thinks he can see branches reaching toward Nick’s groin, and a stem in the direction of his knee.

”A tree?” Louis stares at him ”What kind of a surprise is this?”

Nick beams. ”It’s a tree for your stag,” he explains. ”You know, to protect it.”

He says it like it’s obvious, and natural, and to be expected. You know, I got a tattoo to protect one of your tattoos. No big deal. Whatever annoyance Louis was feeling is gone now. He just feels soft in his entire body.

”I can’t believe you let someone else tattoo you,” Louis mutters. ”Your boyfriend is a tattoo artist, in case you didn’t know.”

”It was meant to be a surprise, you dickhead,” Nick says fondly. He’s quiet for a beat, waiting for Louis to bite back, but Louis is just staring at the tattoo. Nick opens his mouth and closes it again. ”Do you really not like it?”

Louis looks up to meet his eyes, then. ”Of course I like it.” He smiles. ”I love it.”

”Phew.” Nick lets out a relieved breath and pulls his joggers back up. ”Would have been super expensive to remove, as you probably know.”

Louis nods and tries to let this sink in. When Nick is clothed again, Louis steps up to hug him. He nuzzles Nick’s chest and feels himself relax when Nick wraps his arms around him.

”We already have a matching tattoo, you know,” he mumbles into the fabric of Nick’s shirt. ”You big sap.”

”Was that a tree pun?”

Louis laughs, and he can feel Nick’s stomach jump under him as he laughs along. Ridiculous.

Nick laughs and the cherry trees are in bloom.