Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being security for concert venues usually meant standing at the edge of the stage making sure those watching didn’t attempt to jump the fencing or grab at the artist if they went down onto the floor. Stand there in a neon, highlighter colored vest that had ‘SECURITY’ in huge black, bold lettering on the back and smaller lettering on the front because for some reason it was harder to distinguish their job from the larger font, and keeps their hands folded together in front of them while they kept an eye on the crowd. Folding your hands was not a requirement at all but it seemed to be the default position of the men that were always seen stood still, gazes locked and expressions stoic as screams, arm reaches, things being tossed onto the stage from afar, and overall chaos unfolded before them. Harry wasn’t one of them, though.

The noise itself was a bit much for him sometimes but he loved watching the performers be in their element, and the pure look of excitement in the eyes and on the smiles of the fans even while just waiting for the show to start. He was always tapping his foot, bobbing his head around to the beat, dancing around a bit, and if he knew who was going to be playing then the fans in the front would see him mouthing along to the words. There was one time he worked at a Niall Horan show, off to the side so he could keep a good angled eye on it all in case something happened, where he knew every word because Niall is someone he listened to rather frequently and was swaying along. He thought he heard some of the fans talk about the fact he was singing along to everything but put it in the back of his mind as just hearing things, only to later stumble upon his face on social media because they recorded him and posted it under ‘this security guard is a Niall boy i’m screaming’. It was actually quite funny seeing the reactions to it, albeit very shocking to find a viral video of him on the internet just doing what one does at a concert.

He was currently getting ready for a show he was flown out for in Mexico; he was a contract worker, so moving about internationally wasn’t a big deal to him. The person he’d heard was going to be performing for the next three nights he had to join the venue’s team was apparently very good friends with Niall, and already had a reputation in the southern part of the world that preceded him. He was pulling the vibrant vest on over the black tee shirt he had to wear as he tried to remember what the head of the singer’s personal security told him when they went over to brief the concert’s men in how to handle it. The musician was Louis Tomlinson, he learned in that moment, and he had a knack for behaving like an absolute ball of chaos when it came to the end of his shows. He’d hop down from the stage and run back and forth across the other side of the barricade, stepping up onto the mini platforms drilled into the metal holds and leaning into the audience so far in, it usually took two people to bring him back out. The Pepsi Center was going to be the last spot before the Latin American leg of the tour ended, and Harry, along with the rest of the venue’s hires were told that this was likely going to be the most unhinged of the shows since it was the last one before a two week break. They needed people at the ready in case it took more than normal to keep Louis at bay when it came to the last song he played. Harry soaked in every word, though he was sure they were just pulling his leg and trying to scare him before the doors opened. After all, he didn’t go insert himself into any of it the first two nights, so why would he need to do it for the last one?

—

Scratch that; they were definitely not just trying to scare him.

The concert was fantastic by far. Fans were screaming their lungs out when he’d get near them or point at a random section, sometimes react to the signs he was able to read from where he was up on the stage. They belted out the lyrics until their voices were raw and scratchy and could barely escape their throats after an hour. They cried during Only the Brave and Beautiful War, silent as can be during the second tune while Louis squatted down at the edge of the stage and admired the lights waving throughout the space with a radiant, close lipped smile, the emotional shine of his eyes very clear from where Harry stood. It was such a magnificent display of the bond and connection between fans and the artist the man had ever seen. He could practically see the line of understanding being stretched from one to the other, weaving through each heart of the crowd and swirling about the room to create a trandescent web of love and support that led back to the person crouched down in admiration. Harry didn’t know too much about Louis Tomlinson, and didn’t listen to his music much save for the few singles, but he had to admit he was rocking along with the rest of them. He made a mental note after seeing the display to give a go at listening to the entire album after he was back at his hotel, including the covers and unreleased songs that he knew would have been posted by fans. The other guards would subtly nod their heads sometimes or not all, being their usual monotone selves because to them it was just a job they did at least once or twice a week, and that was all. But the experience played the most important role for Harry’s reasoning in staying in this line of work; it was just a bonus that he was able to travel around because of it, and if people ended up needing help, he would always be the first to rush over and assist. This third night at the venue was shaping up to be one of the best he’d been able to witness so closely, and the small smile on his face managed to call forward the faint appearance of one of his dimples.

Then, as all peaceful moments are usually shattered by the sudden appearance of pure chaos, it was interrupted by the bounding of Louis down the boxes they set up for him to get down to the floor without as much risk. The man upon the platform was now swiftly making his way up and down the sides of the silver, metal fencing, singing as loud as possible and stretching his free arm out while all the girls at the front were reaching out as far as they could. Harry was watching the security team for the musician follow him in the same manner an asshole of a driver would when behind someone else’s car on the street - right at the end of his tail. This was normal, he was told, and he tried to keep his fidgeting under control as it seemed like everything was under control and they could handle it. However, less than five seconds after convincing himself he wasn’t and wouldn’t be needed, the thirty year old singer was suddenly launching himself towards the barrage of grabby hands. At the sight of frantic reaches with colored nails and some tattooed arms going for the man’s shirt and neck, he ignored all holdbacks of twitching and sprang into action. The twenty-eight year old was behind the one with the mesh button down that was practically begging to be ripped open, one hand on one of his shoulders and an arm around his torso as he went to pull him down. Louis began squirming around immediately, not acknowledging any of the security around him aside from the actions of wiggling out of their grips and dodging the older ones while he swiftly dipped around them to head to other spots.

Harry was honestly just lucky he ran track throughout school and went to the gym every other week because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to do as much as he was. The top buttons were already undone and a tattoo on his chest could be seen from behind the loose fabric, and Harry’s eyes widened at the clothing already having what kept it together being resolved to pieces. His hands were never away from any part of Louis’ upper body whenever the rockstar hoisted himself up and attempted to lean over, only to once again be brought back down by the taller male’s inked arms wrapping around his middle and hoisting him backwards. The battle transitioned from three against one toddler-like adult to one very fast and agile security guard against said toddler. Jon had the other men keep an eye out as precaution but at one point Harry became the only person fully keeping any more buttons from being grabbed out. Every time Louis felt the tug on his shirt from behind, he would glance very briefly and frown for just a second before going to barrel roll himself out of Harry’s arms, limbs swinging and the awkward landings causing him to stumble while he headed in different directions. The three minute and forty-one second song felt like more than an hour of chasing, pulling the sporadic man back, and actually needing to hold him at one point while he wriggled around like a child refusing to be locked in a time out for their behavior. By the time he returned on stage with one of the shoulders of the shirt ripped up from Harry trying to keep him back, the openers were back on stage and messing around just as Louis did during their set earlier, a grin on his face while he joined them in roughhousing their way backstage.

Harry could feel the looks from the concert employees that stood there as still as statues, beads of sweat running profusely down the sides of his temple while he shook his body to clear out any tension from the endless pulling and running he had to do. “Thanks for the help.” He grumbled sarcastically once he was out of earshot of the others and heading backstage. There were two small bins on a table beside the double doors the crew and performers entered through where the vests and radios would be discarded following the end of shows. He was so glad to be able to remove the outer layer and piece of equipment strapped to the belt loop in his jeans, tossing them in their respective bins and immediately stretching the front of his shirt’s collar down as much as possible to cool the heat radiating from his skin. He was near to yanking the heavy doors open when someone called for attention from behind, and out of curiosity he turned his head.

Jon’s burly self was making his way over from where Harry assumed the dressing room was, taken aback by the casual clap on the shoulder he received from the very new acquaintance. “Hey, mate. Just wanted to say thanks for all the help before. Louis’ a very sweet lad, you know. He’s just been so excited about this leg of tour that he’s been letting it loose. His fit would have been torn to shreds without you.”

“Oh.” Harry wasn’t expecting anyone to actually go up to him and praise him doing his job because that was just it. He did what he got paid to do. Was he overwhelmed at the prospect that what he was told beforehand was truer than ever, and it was both thrilling and anxiety inducing to be in such a situation aside from just standing in a corner? Yeah, to everything. But there was no need to say thank you or compliment him or make him feel like the rockstar’s own team wouldn’t have been able to handle who they always kept safe without him. That was far too much. “It was nothing, really. Jus’ doing my job.” He spoke aloud, fingers locking around the handle of the door he was temporarily attached to. Right now all he wanted was to let the venue know he was leaving, get to his hotel room and take the coldest shower possible; he swore he was sweating as much as he did from a two hour workout. The smile he was given was friendly, polite, respective, and there was one more pat on his shoulder while Jon urged another thanks his way.

“Aye, Jonno! What’s takin’ you so long, lad?” A new but extremely familiar voice (considering Harry had been listening to it for the past three hours) entered the quiet mix, and Harry was suddenly nervous at seeing Louis Tomlinson walk towards them. There was a bit of a hip swing to his step that had Harry a bit mesmerized, but once the figure approached and stood beside Jon he knew eye contact had to be made. Maybe. He was just informed Louis was a nice person but you never really know, do you?

“Just talkin’ to, uh..”

“Harry.” He offered, noticing the sense of the trail off.

“Harry.” The second older man repeated, nodding his head and turning it to Louis, then. “Just thankin’ Harry here for the work he put in tonight. Really helped us out.”

Louis was quiet for a beat, glancing between the two, and the frown on his face when his gaze solely landed on Harry only tightened the contract employee’s questioning about whether the singer was actually nice or not. He didn’t smile in any way, shape or form, it was more of a pout than anything, and he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Right. Yeah. Thanks for keepin’ me off.” Louis had done a once over towards the concert guard, eyes lidded in disinterest and voice evident of not wanting to hold any sort of conversation with him. He brought his attention back over to his head of security, “You still comin’ out, right?”

“Sorry, can’t. Have to go back to the hotel and call up the wife for the night.”

“Ah, right.” Louis clapped the man on the back, “Tell her hello from me, then.”

Harry felt awkward just standing there, as if one of them was going to take in his presence and suck him into the conversation like he actually mattered amongst the lot of them. Plus, the energy he was receiving from the star was very off putting, and if he was being honest, it was a huge turn off that fueled the need to get away, stand underneath ice water because this interaction did not help his nerves, and proceed to jump underneath the comforter of the room while ordering room service and watching whatever caught his eye. There was no need for him to be a part of this any longer, so he cleared his throat and tilted his head towards the person who wasn’t making him feel like a nuisance from a mere glance. “Don’t want to intrude any longer, so I’m going to be making my way out. I do appreciate your kind words, however, so thank you.” He stated, wanting the bodyguard to know that while he dismissed it, he was entirely grateful. No one ever really took the time to thank or recognize him post shows, after all, and it felt nice to hear regardless of how unnecessary it was. Without the wait for any sort of response, he quickly ducked his head towards Louis as a sign of both a silent goodbye and apology, as he was certain the events that transpired didn’t fill the musician with much joy, especially since it happened with Harry and not someone he knew. His hand was finally able to pull at the silver handle and he stepped through the opening as soon as his body was able to fit through, squeezing himself out and heading down the brightly lit, wide halls in large strides.

After finding the manager of the stadium and informing them that everything was put where it should have been, he made sure to grant them a good night before heeding towards the main entrance. He couldn’t have gotten out of that venue quick enough after the odd exchange, the fresh air doing so many wonders for him as he bent over and placed his hands on his knees, inhaling the humid, tropical air of Mexico City that was very much doing wonders in allowing him to breathe properly. Without the noise, the heat of a crowd being squished together, and a childish man who acted as if he committed a crime by doing his job, Harry could walk to his car with only passing cars and birds occupying the surrounding space.

—

When the new security guard for the night had left their, for lack of a much better word, chat, Jon didn’t waste any time in turning and giving Louis the most fatherly look of disapproval he could muster up. The little rockstar’s brows furrowed at the expression being thrown at him, shrugging one shoulder while he took a sip of the water bottle in his hand. “What?” He wasn’t given a response, and at this he frowned the same way he did when Harry was handling his chaotic energy during the show. “What? I said thank you, didn’t I?”

“The boy was just doing what was asked of him, Louis. Can’t hold that against him.” Jon retorted, starting a walk back towards the green room and making sure he was in step with the shorter man in order to maintain the conversation.

“No. But my shirt being ripped at the shoulder is on him, innit?”

The man sighed, shaking his head as he decided to just give up on the issue of trying to reign in the child in the Doncaster-born musician. Louis really was one of the kindest souls there were in the music industry but during this leg of the tour, something about being in Latin America had sparked in him a piece of himself he held back when touring the United States. He figured it had something to do with the atmosphere that would swirl around him in the cities and at the venues because while he adored all of his fans, the buzzing difference in simply being greeted by a crowd of them at the airport and his hotels once he landed in the southern hemisphere was massive. There was a very big feeling that the American fans saw him as more of his softie side themselves, so that was the energy he radiated with them. But this crowd the past week.. wow.

The raw screams, the belted words, the scattered signs and tossed up middle fingers just so he could do the same, the project with the torches, the giant banner hanging in the stadium. It was so much more surreal than he’d imagined it would be. It was like they became the mirror for a part of himself he didn’t really show otherwise, and that fact alone was what pushed him into the decision that he would let loose to the fullest he possibly could and give them all a banger of show every night he went on. It was all going rather swimmingly, he would say, as well. Everyone was vibing as hard as they wanted, jumping and shouting and waving rainbow hand flags or lights around during the best moments, even had some larger showcases of pride resting against the outside of the barrier where he could easily approach them when down on the floor with the whole lot. He was absolutely buzzing, and it was a high he didn’t come down from until the last night in Mexico, where a certain wavy haired, tattooed security guard hired by the venue intercepted every move he made even when Louis was able to outmaneuver the others. It made the whole end of the set less enjoyable, and Louis couldn’t help the brief frowns on his face or extra effort he put in escaping the hold of the stranger. He was much too quick on his feet and his fingers were never straying from grazing the very loose fabric, ready to pull the singer back at all necessary points. His attitude post concert may have been a little too much but he was stubborn and just wanted to get everything onto the buses so he could change at his hotel and go clubbing their last night there.

He spent the rest of the time joking with his band and openers, keeping count of who was going out with him so he wouldn’t lose track of anyone in a couple of hours when they would head out. The walk back to the buses was fine, casual, save for the epic race they had towards the vehicles once the parking lot behind the building came into view. Everyone was still a bit warm from being under the lights for so long and moving around the stage inside of an indoor venue filled with bodies but they always had time for the show tradition of challenging one another to a foot race across a room or in a parking lot. Their legs and adrenaline were pumping as they all tried to get ahead of one another, veins from Louis’ neck clear as day as he pushed himself further until he was able to pass Isaac at the last few seconds and swiftly push his hands onto the side of the bus, giving one loud slap to it as he raised his arms in the air and turned around. “That’s how you do it, lads! Un-fuckin-beatable.” He cheered, a perfect grin shining on his face.

“Shove off, Louis.” Michael retorted, pushing his bandmate’s shoulder back as the doors to the buses opened up, drivers waiting patiently for everyone to pile in once their shenanigans were done and over with, something they got used to the past days spent driving the crew around. Louis’ laugh echoed throughout the very much open area as they all took their respective buses, he and the other members of his band, along with their photographer Josh, taking A while security and the rest of the crew took B. The groups took up spots on the sofas or at the miniature booths built in at the corners of the windows, watching as the scenery began to blur once the driver shifted gears and put the vehicle into drive. Louis was helping himself to a ginger ale from the mini fridge at the little living area of the bus before leaning against the square table in the corner, honing in on the conversation that started once everyone was seated and comfortable. 

“That man was fast. Never seen anyone keep up with our boy like that before.” Steve chimed, sitting back on one of the couches with one of his arms slack against the back and the other on the armrest. “Thought you were going to throw a fit the way you were looking at him, mate.” The medium-length blonde laughed, the sound bubbling out even more and being joined by the other men when he saw the bemusement Louis was sending him.

“Glad you’re all havin’ a good laugh.” Louis rolled his eyes, pulling the silver tab towards until it pushed open the seal of the can, and moving it back so he could take a sip. He blinked, coughing a bit at the change from smooth water to fizzing soda running down his throat. Granted, he did have a few shots of vodka before he went onstage when he was messing around with the opener, SunRoom’s set, but that was hours ago and not a bother feeling wise. “Didn’t let me go in with the crowd once. The hell was that about?”

“Him doing his job?” Josh questioned sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at the behavior their friend was displaying. “Here's some food for thought, though. You should hire him.”

Louis’ eyes widened and he looked between one of the photographers and the rest of the group, “Hire him? So he can pull the same shit he did tonight? Have you gone mad?” He asked, taken aback at the mere thought of fighting off another person on top of the three men who were staying in instead of going out. He loved being able to give such a wild and thrilling experience to the fans, and thanks to the newbie for the night, he couldn’t do that to the full extent he wanted to.

“You’d have been stripped down to your boxers without that man. The fans were massively wound up - because of your choice of fit, no doubt.” Zak cut in, eyeing the singer knowingly. Because Louis knew exactly what he was doing when he wore what he did for his performance, and he found the reactions hilariously exciting. He’d never thought in a million years he’d be touring the world by himself, visiting other countries and having so many people try to see him sing live that his venues were continuously being upgraded to much larger locations. Let alone have so many people rushing and squishing themselves up against the barricade, hands roaming his arms, chest and neck with the obvious goal of displaying his tattoos to everyone in mind. It was definitely a bit overwhelming and nerve racking when he threw himself into it the first time. Seeing such a reaction over him just making his way off the giant platform made his insides shake, heartbeat quicken and blood pump so hard he had to use his movements of running around the ground to shake off all the nerves over what he was about to do. Each night he performed was getting easier to do when Kill My Mind’s spotlight moment came at the end, and by this last one, he had it down to a T. No nerves or anxiety or worry that it would go too far, just pure joy and fun like no other with not only the fans but everybody involved. He loved it.

“We don’t know what the next leg will be like. It would be good to have someone like that on tour with us as an extra pair of hands.” Matt paused, occupying the elongated space next to Isaac by laying with his head on the other armrest and legs crossed one over the other. “For safety, of course.”

Louis choked on the gulp he was suddenly trying to keep down, coughing out his lungs for what felt like ages before he was able to let out a rough sounding, “I’m not going to date the bloody Pepsi security, Matt.”

“I’m just saying,” he got in return, the bassist’s hands suspended in the air as surrender, “Seemed like he was a good looking lad from where I stood. You could use one date, at least. It’s been ages since the last one.”

“Oh! Let’s invite him out with us! Does anyone know where he’s staying?” Isaac piped up, looking around the room with the newfound need to, if not set up his dear friend and one of his biggest supporters with his music, then at least gain a new friend out of this experience. “We could put the word out and have the fans find him, can’t we? They’ve done it plenty of times before.” He finished off, sharing a glance with the other instrumental members of the group that Louis seemed to miss because of his head tilting back a bit in order to swallow down a third of the bubbly beverage.

“ Christ, Isaac. You sound like a schoolgirl.” Louis groaned, finally sitting down in the booth rather than sitting atop the table it was paired with. He place his drink on the surface and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees and hands hanging in the air. “He’s not comin’ out with us.”

One of the other men called him a spoil sport then, causing Louis to flip them off in return and the conversation to take a turn into jokes and teasing about the antic there were done during the songs, as well as what their next leg in Australia may be like. Not very interesting topics for anyone outside of their circle but to them, something as simple as the hotel they’d be staying in for each city filled them with an energy and giddiness that never went down, even when each of them were more exhausted than ever. It was a swell chat between crewmates and occasionally the driver when asked how they spent their free time and if they themselves had ever traveled anywhere. Louis never missed an opportunity to include anyone if he could, hence the kind words that would be spoken of him when he wasn’t acting the way he currently was. About twenty minutes had passed before a shout of, “Found him!” overshadowed what was going on. Isaac was more into the idea than anybody seemed to be, and he was bouncing in his seat when Steve made the proclamation, passing his phone around to show off the accomplishment. “Turns out he’s a bit known over a video of him working one of Niall’s shows just months back, except no one bothered to find out his name or anything until we asked. Fans in general love him already.”

“Did they find the hotel?”

“No, no.” Steve waved a dismissive hand, “Didn’t want to go too far. But they got his Twitter, so I’m going to message him. See if he wants to join us at the club tonight.”

Everyone’s heads turned to Louis, the most childish frown adorning his face and going along with the bored expression as he took his turn watching the video of the man who kept up with him nodding, swaying and singing along to his good friend's concert. He passed the phone back to Steve and sat back against the window pane of the bus, barely shaking his head as he pointed a panoramic finger at the group before him. “He’s not coming.”

Chapter Text

“He’s prettier in person, isn’t he? I bet he is.”

“Do you really think I was paying attention to whether he was pretty or not? I was chasing that man for ages!” Harry groaned into the speaker of his cell, running a hand over his face before taking the remote and turning the volume up on the television, as if that was going to drown out his friend’s voice. He’d been trying to release the nerves he got from interacting with the singer right after the show by watching whatever movie was on at the moment. He saw a better opportunity to do so when he saw he was getting a phone call, momentarily forgetting that the person on the other line was a huge fan of Louis Tomlinson, and therefore had been asking questions between his complaints.

“Only about four minutes, H.” She spoke, her voice a bit crackly from the physical distance they had on each other seeing as he was in another country at the moment, and he could practically see her waving a dismissive hand in the air. He made a sound that resembled both frustration and slight annoyance, urging a laugh from the other side. “Okay, okay, look. They warned you beforehand, you did your job, and you did great. Doesn’t matter at this point if he was rude or indifferent after because it was his last show there, right? So you won’t be seeing each other again, anyway.”

“Yeah.. I guess you’re right.”

“Of course, I am!” He rolled his eyes at her obviously very high level of self confidence. “Now was he prettier in person or not? It’s a question for science.. and my friends also want to know who you landed a gig with this time because I haven’t told them. It isn’t much of a story to tell if I don’t get details.”

“Honestly, Jo. You make it sound like I’m this world renowned person.” Harry sighed. He started flipping through the channel guide five minutes ago, growing bored of the apparent documentary about the general insect population that was honestly making his nose twitch and skin feel a bit scratchy. (Seeing such close ups of bugs always did, which he hated sometimes because he loved the ones that were metamorphic, but his bodily reaction was uncontrollable.) He loved Johanna with all his heart; she was one of the only people he was truly close with and kept up to date with after they met at one of the outdoor concerts he worked. A nice little story about her being the one to shout when another fan in the crowd had fainted, and assisted in making room and bringing her over the barrier at the front. He was never exactly sure what it was that caused such a friendship to bubble up from it but she was the one who told him about the video online, agreeing that fans were a bit crazy sometimes but also that it was really cool to see, and after that it was pretty much history. So he loved her, dearly, but he did not want to think or talk about Louis anymore. He just wanted to stay hidden in the room for the night, explore the city early in the morning, and leave for his flight that following afternoon. “If I say it, am I allowed to hang up on you?”

“Rude.” Jo huffed out. “But yes. Confirmation is all I ask for.”

“Fine. He’s pretty , then.” Harry agreed, the word playing an awkward and unceremonious dance upon his tongue, the emphasis filled with nothing but contempt for the English singer.

Once the pair of companions hung up with another promise to call as soon as he was back home and settled so they could hang out, he let his phone continue charging without any more interruption and lay it upside so he could still see any possible notifications. There was nothing particularly interesting playing on the television, and there was always the option to start his exploration tonight instead of in the morning, but after the three nights of consistently being set inside of a room filled with excessive screaming, mass body heat that was further produced by endless jumping and dancing, and running around trying to keep the best hold possible on a rogue rockstar who only showed that he really can behave like a petulant child when he all but knicked Harry in the jaw for simply doing his job, he was much too tired. And while the definition of exploration was going out into the world and venturing into places you’d never been, take photographs of pretty cool attractions and landmarks, and make memories that you’d never forget even without any physical evidence you’d ever been there, Harry simply wanted to cease existing.

Just for a bit, though. Temporarily. Enough to make him forget ever meeting the flippant and dismissive pop-rockstar before it tossed him back to earth, so he could focus on work and his travels and getting back home in two days so he could be with family until the next point of driving to an airport or train station came into play.

He stared at the screen up on the wall ahead of him; he swore the commercials had been running for hours when it’s most likely only been a couple of minutes because he did briefly remember a movie scene on the TV when he was on the phone. There was a sports drink being advertised with the use of football players running across a grassy field and shooting a goal at the last second, the screen doing a swiped fade to the coach dumping a gallon of the drink on his team. It was dramatic and over the top and Harry loved every second of it, and then his brows furrowed when a new commercial came on.

The very man he was trying to get out of his head was now plastered in a sort of inception, clips from what Harry assumed was past shows were edited together in an ad for the singer’s world tour. The screen went off with a flash of white in the middle before going dark, the remote being tossed to the edge of the mattress while Harry simply allowed himself to fall back, pulling the comforter over the rest of his body and wanting to ignore the constant vibrations of his mobile, assuming they were just check-in texts from his mum and sister, maybe a message or two from people he liked by barely hung out with in general, or a trickle of followers from that one video. That one bloody video of a man enjoying a concert that gave him no peace for the first month and a half, maybe two, after it was sent out into the digital universe. Harry hated it for a while because his socials were for photography and book quotes, and overnight his notifications and followers were much higher than usual, and all he wanted to do in Mexico City was sleep and forget about any shows at all for a while longer but the incessant, repetitive buzzing with barely half second pauses in between each one wouldn’t go away. So, he gave a small cry into the pillow he was hoping to use to lull him to a short nap or deep sleep (either was fine at this point), and picked up the cellphone, his screen lighting up to reveal what the nonsense was about.

Messages

JoJo why is Louis’ drummer asking about you??

JoJo what did you do?

JoJo harryyyy

JoJo istg harry, if you met the band and didn’t tell me-

Gems If you met a rockstar and didn’t tell me we are going to have quite the talk later

Daniel Hey Harry, haven’t heard from you in a while. Didn’t know you knew a celebrity!

Erica any chance you could put in a good word for me at your job?

Jamie Harry, lad! Fancy a catch up when you get back?

@obviouslyjojo28 mentioned you in a tweet: a venue security man being the only one visibly enjoying the concert?? sounds suspiciously just like you, h @hstyles

            @Steve_Durham Need help finding the lad that helped us out with Louis’ wild self tonight! Caught a glimpse of him during the set. Tall, short brown hair, was the only one really vibin with the fans

@Steve_Durham Thanks to everyone who commented and sent the video! Lot of you had that saved I reckon, haha. Got this from what I assume is a friend of his

            @obviouslyjojo28 a venue security man being the only one visibly enjoying the concert?? sounds suspiciously just like you, h @hstyles

@LouBlouEyes, @dxvilinmybrxin and 3,935 others followed you

@Steve_Durham followed you

@Steve_Durham mentioned you in a tweet: @hstyles Think your dms are closed, mate. Mind following me back?

@hstyles: 518 people mentioned you in a tweet

“What..?” Harry mumbled to himself, the interactions blurred together because his vision had already adjusted to the dim settings of his hotel room, and for some god forsaken reason his screen didn’t tone down in accordance with the lighting change. When it came into focus, and he scanned through what was going on before shooting off texts to his friends and sister to let them know that he had no fucking clue what was going on and didn’t really want to know, he still opened up his Twitter account. Because curiosity, at this point, had reared its head and was getting ready to sedate the cat that had seeked it out.

His notifications exceeded the limit, displaying a 99+ that had his head spinning when he opened up the tab, new followers and tags flooding his sight. He sat up slowly when his gaze found the following and mentions from the alleged drummer - why were people from this man’s team so adamant to speak to him? Well, only two out of the entire crew, but it was still unexpected and weird. This seemed much too excessive to just be another thank you, and the question of why was going to be swimming around his mind like a dolphin in a wide ocean until it received an answer. So, he did what was being asked of him by a thousand strangers, partially hoping that things were being blown out of proportion, ensuring that his lack of plans for the rest of the night could go on without interruption. He received a private message no more than two minutes after returning the follow, and he crossed his legs from underneath the airy covers of the bed so he could rest his forearms on his legs as he opened it up: Hey! Thanks for following back. I just had a quick question for you.

That was it? A question? That’s what kept Harry from dissolving into a world of peace before needing to be up at seven in the morning for a day of endeavors before needing to depart soon? He couldn’t believe it, and he said as much (in as little words as possible because he didn’t want to come off as rude, either. Really, he just sent out an awkward ‘hi, sure’ and avoided redundantly asking how he found him in the first place). He wasn’t as eager as anyone else in his position would have been. The persistence these people had was off putting; he didn’t like it one bit. If he didn’t care whether he gave bad first impressions or not, this whole thing would have been over with a simple refusal, and he would be left alone. Yet here he was, engaging in a conversation with the drummer of a world famous singer with some sort of complex that Harry couldn’t pinpoint. The messages dragged on for at least a few minutes, each one more disinteresting than the last, until the actual reason for the fractional internet chaos was brought up, and Harry couldn’t help the look of astonishment that had to have been on his face then. “Why the bloody hell does he need to know what hotel I’m staying at? Is he insinuating something? What is happening?” He mumbled, eyes flashing back and forth from the start of the sentence to the end. What a forward thing to ask someone you’d never even actually met. Were all of them like that? Was this what happens when you hung out with Louis Tomlinson long enough - nonsensical impulses and lacking in proper answers? It was beginning to seem so.

Almost as if he could sense Harry’s frantic thoughts from whatever part of Mexico City the band was staying in, he received another message. “Just to clarify, we want to invite you out. You worked hard getting our man off the barrier. Maybe come to the club with us in a half hour?” Harry read aloud, thinking that maybe if he did, it would somehow bring about a sense of making sense. He was a twenty-eight year old event security guard on a contract who was likely not going to see any of these men ever again. There was no point in treating it any different, and he most definitely was not going to be joining them for that reason alone.

—

The one thing Harry missed the most since cutting his hair over a year ago was being able to wrap it in a bun, tie it up in a ponytail or allow his sister the pleasure of giving him two French braids that would cascade down his shoulders in perfect harmony. He could never decide which style was his favorite but often found himself going for the first, and it was a shocking but excitable surprise when he was standing in the bathroom brushing out the few tangled locks from burrowing, and noticed just how much his hair had grown. He stopped paying attention to its length after the first couple of months, having it be second nature to brush it back either way, and it was truly satisfying to realize that could start using hair scrunchies the way he used to after seeing it reach down to just above his shoulders now. Maybe he should dig through his bags and see if he’d packed any of those butterfly clips he loved wearing when he’d go out to the botanical gardens near his old flat, or the headbands he purchased last July that were inspired by Greek goddess headdresses and were typically woven within their hair when worn, or even just go out and pluck a flower once he steps outside so he could adjust it behind one of his ears or tuck it into a bun. He certainly didn’t expect to agree to going out when it was already dark as night could be and the clubs he was aware of all closed in a mere several hours but after Steve came Isaac, one of the guitarists, and there was absolutely no way Harry would have been able to reject the invitation hearing the enthusiasm held for the concept of hanging out. (He was definitely too much of a people pleaser sometimes, and while it was only with company that felt like they wouldn’t take advantage of that fact, he still had the habit of not wanting to let someone down. And that included the members of the band from this tour because regardless of the weird start, the ones he’d interacted with so far seemed okay.)

There was a floor length mirror on the corner beside the small hotel closet, the gold frame the same as the wall sconces and accented details throughout the entire room, and making the fanned palm leaves on his button up shirt that matched his eyes pop in the way he hoped they would when under a flow of colored lights. The white, sheer blouse was buttoned only halfway, giving a nice view of Harry’s swallow birds and butterfly, the long sleeves folded up to his elbows with easy view to half of the barrage of other tattoos going down both his arms, the black jeans he chose were ripped at the knees and hugged him nicely (as they always did), and last but not least were his made-for-a-star golden ankle boots. Even the self conscious man had to admit he looked good, dubbing himself more than presentable. Before he left the room to head to the lobby, he did manage to find one of the goddess tiaras wedged between a pair of board shorts and a couple of tees, needing to unravel his bun to weave curled strands around the material, opting for a quick, small messy braid to create a ring of shiny gold and smooth brown while he left the rest of his hairdo down, free to flow about otherwise.

Harry didn’t give away where he was staying; he wasn’t an idiot. He asked for the location and after being sent the address, he was on his way out, turning several heads at his appearance as he walked swiftly through the lobby.

The drive wasn’t too far out from where he was staying, only about twenty minutes that allowed him a small window of waving palm trees and motion blurred colors so bright they rivaled the blinding sun, and while he hadn’t had the bother to go out the two nights before, he could just tell it wasn’t a club when he arrived, parking the rental and stepping out to see it properly. A show of the medium sized, stark white building with regal columns on the corners and beige, stoned pathways leading to every open aired entrance with small lights hidden amongst pebbles lighting the way around the sidewalks told him as much. He could see a very well dressed crowd spilling out into a courtyard from where the rainbow strobes changed the color of the interior, everyone jumping around in hues of blue, red and purple. At that, he remembered to shoot off a quick text to Steve that he’d arrived.

As he took hesitant steps closer to where people seemed to entering and exiting from,  a couple stumbled out and headed towards the beach behind the little venue, drinks in the hands that weren’t holding each other’s and steps so twisted the presumed alcohol in the glasses was spilling out into the ground, their laughter ringing out into the night. There were way too many people for Harry’s liking. Though, he was long overdue for a time where he let loose and had so much fun he actually lost track of time. He always did nights like these with friends unless he was in a bad place and needed to be alone, and when that group began to shrink due to him being the only sensible one in the middle of the night when the others wanted to bar hop until dawn, he barely did so lest Johanna - and sometimes Jamie - dragged him. He was so close to hightailing it once he noticed several, very drunk men ogling people who walked past them, when he was spotted mid turn. “Harry? You’re Harry, right?”

Whoever called out was stepping towards him from inside, the shadows of the column making the whole moment unnecessarily ominous until they stepped into the light provided by the scattered street lamps stood at the edge of the sidewalk, and he was able to recognize the face of the guitarist who stood nearest to him during the show. “Yes.. your name is Isaac, right?”

“Right you are!” The brunette smiled, a red solo cup in his hand while he took a step toward Harry and extended his free one. “Nice to meet you officially. The rest of the lads are dying to see the face of the iconic internet security showman.”

“Security showman..? Is that what I’m being called?” Harry questioned, getting no feel of odd vibes and therefore allowing himself to be guided by the shoulder towards where he assumed the others were.

“Well, it’s a lot better than ‘this hot security man at the concert is a Niall boy’, innit? That’s what the caption was.”

“Yeah, I remember. Don’t need to remind me.” Harry groaned, earning a laugh and short clap on the back of his shoulder from the young man beside him. He liked Isaac, he decided, then. There wasn’t really anything to go by in order to make the decision but his sense of humor seemed great, and he’d practically been bouncing since confirming that it was indeed Harry from the show, and his laugh was very lifting. He didn’t have many friends, or people for that matter,  who could make him feel better just by being there.

They had to weave through a bit of the crowd to get to the small group in the less occupied corner, further confirming just how many people were present in the space, and making Harry reflect a little on why he agreed to go. He guessed he had to live a little with a job like his, especially one that gave him extra days before flying him back to the UK before the next show. When they reached the designated spot, Harry tried to place everyone he saw step out on stage earlier under the ever changing bulbs in the ceiling. He’d done a bit of research so he could at least fully know what they looked like and their names, but was really only able to place Steve quickly since he was the one who sent the initial invitation out. The others introduced themselves immediately with more enthusiasm than he himself could just barely muster up, but he made the mental note in his head for who was who and what instrument they played. “Hey, where’d Louis go off to?” Isaac asked.

“Bride and groom dragged him off, didn't they?” Matt questioned, tilting his head towards the rest of the guys for confirmation.

“Yeah. It was a bit of a blur honestly.” Michael laughs out, “In the minute or two you were gone, the lucky man wanted to chat and take a couple of pictures with the new wife and some of the wedding party. Our boy works quite fast in making friends, it seems.”

“Doesn’t he always?” Zak indirectly teased.

While everyone chuckled and agreed to the rhetorical question, Harry was utterly confused. “Sorry- did you guys crash a wedding?”

“Quick, this one. I like him.” Matt stated, pointing a finger at Harry as he took a sip from his own red cup, turning to the curly haired man. “Thought it was just a fancy lookin’ nightclub at first, if I’m being honest. Then we saw all the dresses and ties, and finally the couple of the evening, but by that time Louis was already having a blast. It’s been a good time, as well, so. Can’t complain, can we?”

“No, I guess not.” Harry shrugged, giving everyone a half smile before scanning the space behind him. Louis was in that large group of people somewhere, taking pictures with the couple whose wedding he crashed and drinking away. It wasn’t that he expected there to be no ring leader when the rest were right there having a good time, but it did slip his mind when he agreed to do this. If he was going to stay and partake in what's already shaping up to be pretty great company, he was going to need some help. “I’m going to get a drink. Do either of you want one?” He aimed the query at Josh and Zak, the only ones who didn’t have anything. When they shook their heads, he nodded and announced he’d be back, vaguely recalling catching a glimpse of where the bar was when they were b-lining around everybody on the dance floor to get to the band. It was a venture of trying to avoid getting sucked in by rogue hands, plenty of sweaty bodies that made it clear they’d been on the floor for a good while already, and several tipsy guests, the sigh of relief louder than when he actually spoke once the bar was in full view. He reached for the counter and pulled himself to the edge, leaning with his forearms folded over one another while he simply waited to be spotted by the bartender. He wasn’t in a rush for anything. Wasn’t even feeling like a drink, if he was being honest, but this was such a bizarre situation for him that one or two would let him shake off any anxiety of being surrounded by strangers and bare acquaintances.

When he was finally sorted with a mango martini (which, by the way, tasted just as it sounded and was taking place as his new favorite), he flipped around so his back was to the bar, elbows resting behind him. He probably should have gone right to the bandmates who were expecting him since he did say he’d be back but since most of the patrons had their own beverages or weren’t interested, there weren’t as many people at the bar top itself, just two or three others sitting at the stools and chatting. He surveyed the area before him, taking a long sip from the wide topped glass he was given, green eyes roaming for anything that may catch his interest when he heard a small commotion coming from somewhere to his right. There was a quick recollection of the men he saw standing at the archway between the inside of the event and the courtyard that led to both the parking lot and beach, and that piqued more than enough curiosity. Downing the rest of his drink and setting the glass down, Harry headed over to where the small rise of voices were, needing to elbow his way past a few to get to the arch, and being unpleasantly surprised at the cause of the different kind of noise. “Listen, mate, I don’t know what your problem is, but you weren’t fuckin’ invited. Get over it.”

This man lives for the dramatic, doesn’t he? Harry sighed, seeing clear as day, Louis Tomlinson standing just half a foot away from the three drunkards who’d been eyeing everybody passing by them. It wasn’t causing much of a distraction since most of the guests were either too occupied with having a good time or had wandered off towards the water, so it only caught the attention of those heading towards their cars and Harry. Who believed he came at the right moment because while he hadn’t become acquainted with many of the local people during his stay so far, it was always easy to spot someone who didn’t care what they did or how they looked to others. He didn’t want to interfere, if he was being truthful with himself. The musician seemed like he could handle himself if need be, and all he’d noticed of the several, apparently disinvited guests was the lack of respect and decency to at least not stare at others the way they did. Nothing to worry about physically, so he was free to leave and head back because he’d gotten a message from Steve anyway asking where he was, and he did say he was on his way over.

But then Louis said something incomprehensible to Harry but taken as an insult to them, and while he was positive of the singer being able to take care of it, it was three against one. The one in the middle pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning against, peering down at Louis with a dilated expression of offense, the red solo in his hand tilting and golden brown liquid pouring out before the cup was righted. When he took a step forward, Harry went against his first thought and instead with instinct, pushing past one more person before stretching an arm out in front of Louis and practically sandwiching himself when he stepped in between everyone. “Not a very smart move if you don’t want to leave with a black eye, love.” Harry uttered boldly, emerald piercing into the dark brown of the man before him. With his stature, and the blessing of the boots’ two inch heels, he had a good enough height advantage to seem more intimidating than he actually was. He stood straight, ignoring both the protests coming from Louis and the static he felt when fingers curled around his forearm to try and get him to move away.

“If your little friend is looking to start a problem, he’s going to find one.”

“Then you’ll find one with me.” Harry stated matter of factly, one brow raised and eyes narrowed into slits. By now more people noticed what was going on, and the boys had emerged from their corner to the edge of the crowd to see what was going on.

“I’m not little, you twit.” Louis huffed, removing his hand from Harry’s arm just to cross his own over one another, looking off to the side.

“Really? That’s what you have an issue with right now?” Harry hissed, tilting his head just enough to see the same grumpy man he met a few hours ago. At the direct add of insult to verbal injury, the middle man went to move around Harry and was able to snatch the front of Louis’ shirt, bringing everyone involved in the situation much closer to each other, skin making contact every which way. The patience Harry had when put in such situations, especially ones that he shouldn’t have let himself be involved in, was drawing to a tight close, his mind beginning to draw a blank against the fact that onlookers were attracted to the scene and they were supposed to be enjoying a wedding after party. All he knew in that moment was that someone he didn’t want in such close proximity to him was leaving no room for the imagination, and there was a cocky celebrity who, despite the attitude and nonchalant approach, did have a bag of anxiousness flash across his features before it was hidden by unperturbed dismissal. As if he didn’t care at all that everyone was watching, some maybe with their phones out, including his friends and bandmates. When Harry saw the tug from one spot to another, he snatched the unknown man’s wrist with his left hand and moved Louis steps behind him. He used his newly freed right hand to ball up the drunk’s shirt the same way he did to Louis and forced him to move until his back was returned to the white, cement wall he was rested against before. The two that were joined at the hip had scurried off when things took a turn, which went unnoticed because everyone was focused on the irritated look on Harry’s face, a scowl grabbing more attention than any smile of his could while he kept a hold of the dress shirt, shifting his limbs until the arm holding the man down was now swept across the top of the chest. “I’m trying really hard not to lose my temper, mate, but you’re making it rather difficult.” He sighed, outwardly keeping his cool. He could very faintly hear the voices of the guys he met and the one he was keeping safe, and a couple of hands shaking his left side, though nothing was getting through. “Touch him again and you’ll have a much bigger problem on your hands. Apologize for ruining everyone’s night, leave with your little friends, and I won’t call the police.”

“I’m not the one holding a man against a wall, amigo.” The stranger mocked. Harry’s patience, at that exact point, had reached zero, and he pulled the man down so he could look him dead in the eye with such a fierce glint in his irises that a nerve had been severely struck. Two arms went up in surrender, “Okay, okay. We’ll go. We’re sorry for disturbing everyone.”

“You’re forgetting someone.”

Annoyance made its transparent exit as quickly as its entrance when there was a tug on his collar, and rapid nodding followed suit. “Sorry for making fun of you, boy.” Was issued towards Louis, who of course was as stubborn as ever and only bit back a sarcastic remark once he saw the minimal tolerance Harry had on his face, instead letting out a quiet ‘no worries, mate’ and stood with arms still crossed.

Harry released the man, watching him scramble himself together and dash off towards a car at the other end of the lot from where the gathering was held, buddies in tow. He didn’t remove his gaze until the vehicle had peeled out of sight, pointlessly sharpening the corners. The stares lingered heavily, and he sighed deeply, clearing his throat as he perused those who had watched the whole ordeal. “Seems I went a bit overboard.. I’m deeply sorry if I ruined anything on your big night.” He addressed the couple before facing Steve and the rest of the band, his ears burning immediately seeing the shocked looks on their faces. “Sorry to you lot, as well. Didn’t mean to wreck your last night out here.“

There was a chorus of words that couldn’t be distinguished aside from grateful reassurances from the newlyweds, and Isaac was the first from the band to step towards him. The small laugh he omitted held nothing but an airiness that lifted the tension off of Harry’s shoulders, and the weight of what just occurred visibly left his body, eyes closed while he took a deep breath. “Honestly? That was pretty sick. The way you seemed online, I never would have pictured that, but I loved it.”

Zak nodded, nudging his head in the direction of the speed racer. “That mad dash for his car might just be the highlight of the whole three days.”

The praise and jokes went around the bend, and the red of his ears soon found itself fading away with each chuckle, laugh or agreement that they’d seen the men earlier and figured they had it coming. Made him feel less guilt but still enough embarrassment to sheepishly giggle, excusing himself as he went back to the bar because now more than anything, what he needed was a real drink. The bartender didn’t bat an eye as Harry approached, a little remorse and his weight in shame and exhaustion crystal clear, and he was given a glass of whiskey without asking for it. He left a highly generous tip for the young man and decided to just leave Steve a message; he wasn’t leaving the party but was going down to the beach instead. He didn’t look at Louis once after the first round of apologies were thrown about, and he didn’t want to see him at all until he at least calmed himself down. He knew he should’ve stayed at the hotel until the morning - in his experiences, nothing like that ever happened during the day.

Steve could hardly hear the ping that came with receiving a direct message on Twitter, and fished his cellphone out of his pocket, reading the text he’d gotten from Harry and responding in a way that would continue to reassure him. “Harry’s gone down to the beach. Think he’s a bit shaken up over the way he reacted.”

“Those guys had it comin’.” Josh rolled his eyes, “The way they were ogling every woman in here was sure to get them into trouble. Not to mention this idiot over here instigating ‘em into a fight.” He pulled a hand out of his pocket to fully gesture towards their lead singer, who had been unusually quiet the entire time after begrudgingly accepting the forced apology he’d been given. At the mention of what he unfortunately knew was a reference to him, he scoffed.

“‘S not my fault they were being little perverts. And they had the nerve to try and intimidate me after I’d said something about it. They weren’t even invited here, and they tried to start shit.” He explained, hands patting his pockets until the box of cigarettes were felt in his back right. He pulled it out and tapped the bottom of it against his palm, sliding a stick out of the small carton. “Anyone have a lighter on ‘em?” When no one replied, he took a panoramic look around his group. “What?”

“We weren’t invited either. We just aren’t giant arses.” Steve huffed at his companion’s conscious choice of ignoring the obvious predicament. “You should be thanking him, you know. You may have a grudge against him for the show but he came through just now.”

“I had it handled.” He responded, glancing around until he saw another smoker and stopping them as they walked by so he could ask for a light. Tension slowly flowed out of him once he put the object between his lips and inhaled, briefly closing his eyes while he let out a puff of nearly transparent smoke.

“Really? So that wasn’t some baby sized fear we saw on your face?” Michael questioned, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Fuck off,” Louis grumbled, the sound almost muffled by the cigarette between his lips. He refused to meet the eyes of the ones who were making absolute sense and admit they were right, tossing his gaze to the side where he caught the silhouette of a certain security guard walking away from the event in place. “Shit..” he breathed out, the smoke from another puff blowing around him with the wind. “I’ll be right back.”

No one said anything at first. They simply watched their friend take in two more smokes from the object in his left hand while he turned towards the sandy grounds. And when Isaac called out, “Give him a big ol’ kiss on the cheek from me!”, he was met by a middle finger tattooed with the number 8 on it. Louis continued his silent way towards the sea, his Vans sinking into the minerals darkened by the colors of the night and making it all a bit unstable to walk on with sneakers. He could see the person he was aiming for sitting just a couple of yards away from the shore, one arm angled behind him while the other was busy taking in periodical sips of the hard liquor. Louis was resistant as could be when their shadows intertwined underneath the moonlight, dragging out the last of the half a cigarette he’d breathed out on the way over before he sat beside Harry and stubbed out the end into the sand. His presence didn’t seem to be acknowledged in the slightest, and as much as the man kind of enjoyed reveling in the occasional tantrum he’d throw, he could tell it wasn’t the time to be upset about such a trivial thing. “Thanks for that. Forgot to say before.”

Harry didn’t say anything, tipping his head back in order to engulf another swig of the amber liquid in his hand. Louis watched as he gulped down the drink, wiping his lips with the back of his left wrist. The visible tattoos caught Louis’ attention, and blue eyes started their roam of the rest of his appearance, noticing the way the moon’s light filtered through the opaque fabric of Harry’s blouse and practically gave a glow to his pale skin and the rest of the ink that was on full display courtesy of the choice to close up only the bottom half of his top. The tight jeans fit him quite nicely and he’d toed off his boots, the socks he may have been wearing peeled off and his legs crossed at the ankle. “Didn’t think you knew how to say a proper thank you.”

“Well, I do,” Louis replied curtly. “I’m a bit impulsive if you haven’t guessed yet.” He continued, taking the quiet snort he got in response as a means to keep speaking, his mouth twitching just a little at the sound. “Latin America’s just been a fuckin’ trip, y'know? It’s really freeing here, and I wanted this last one to be epic, so I went all in. Certainly didn’t expect you to be so adept at dealing with my antics when you’d been at the shows twice already and never moved from your spot before today.”

“Sorry for doing my job.” Harry said, voice warbled while he shot down the last of his glass, the ice clinking around before he buried the bottom half in a pile of sand to his right.

Louis twisted around to cross his legs into a pretzel, resting his arms on his knees, remorse swimming in his tone of voice as he realized he really was being very unreasonable. “Sorry for being a dick.”

“Oh, so you do have a wider vocabulary for cuss words. Was beginning to think ‘fuck’ was all you were taught.”

“I’ll have you fuckin’ know-” Louis cut himself short at the word he found he did say nearly ninety percent of the time out of all the curse words he knew, catching Harry’s full attention. The concert guard’s lips twitched upwards but he sucked his bottom lip underneath his teeth to keep himself from giving away that he actually found Louis quite funny. If tonight’s events weren’t at the forefront of Louis’ mind, he would’ve gotten lost in the image in front of him. Harry was making eye contact at last, still biting his lip while suppressed giggles still found themselves bubbling out of his throat, eyes a bit squinted with laugh lines gorgeously accenting the faint show of dimples on his cheeks, rings of emerald reflecting the light they received from the stars and moon and resembling perfectly polished gems. It was a beautiful sight, and Louis was entirely thankful for the lack of enough light to illuminate the pink rising to his cheeks then. He couldn’t help but join in, a sound very similar to Harry’s escaping his own mouth. “Guess I do use that one a lot, don’t I?”

“Excessively. Though that’s just perspective from my three days of watching you perform.”

Louis couldn’t help himself, looking out in front of him as he asked, “And what did you think of those?”

“Honestly?” Harry asked, waiting for the nod to give his opinion. He smiled softly, looking towards the water himself as he brought his knees up and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around them, resting his chin on one of his knees. “Every bit minus having to chase you around was bloody fantastic, actually. It’s really easy to see how connected you are with your fans, and the amount of love between all of you is unmistakable. I’ve worked what feels like hundreds of shows, and yours are the most honest, vulnerable and exciting I’ve had the pleasure of seeing. I can tell how much you love what you do. You really don’t care what anyone thinks, either, and you show how much you support them no matter their sexuality or how they identify. Watching you point out to those with pride flags, and rushing to the wall flags when down on the floor, and that song Only The Brave? That’s the most amazing display of acceptance you can do at a show. I mean, there are celebrities who say they support it on social media but actually don’t, and it’s really sad. But you and the band give off this feeling of comfort and support no matter what kind of energy you put out into the world. You seem to be a safe space for your fans, and I could tell that they provide that for you, too, and I think that’s absolutely beautiful.” There was a pregnant pause that made Harry self conscious, and when he looked up and to his left, he found the sea itself staring back at him. “Sorry, was that too much? I ramble sometimes, so it may have been.” 

“No, no.. not too much.” Louis let out in one breath, the one he was holding while authenticity spilled out of the curly haired one’s lungs. “No one outside of my fanbase or crew has ever said anything like that, actually. It’s nice to hear from someone who doesn’t really know me.” He answered, too stunned to even smile properly. And then he remembered the conversation on the tour bus a few hours ago, and the one he had with Jon post show after he’d been rude to Harry, and he opened his mouth to speak again. “You know, everyone thinks I should hire you as part of our team.”

“Yeah? What are the requirements - wrangling you like one would a toddler?”

The joking tone was widely present, and Louis shrugged, “Possibly.. though I wouldn’t really mind if it was you.” Louis’ eyes widened and he didn’t waste any time in retracting his statement. “I mean, you did a great job at handling me. Handling it. Wait. Fuck.” He groaned, running his hands down his face while the heat radiated up towards his face, temperature in his cheeks higher than in a room filled with people. “You’re a great security guard, is what I’m trying to say.”

The laugh he heard was smoother this time, a grin so wide the dimples he’d barely been able to notice before were now craters on Harry’s face, and then they were hidden away while he hid his own face in his ring-covered hands. Huh. Louis didn’t notice the rings before. Too busy causing a ruckus with a few drunks, he guessed. Then too caught up in the way Harry looked underneath moonlight while wearing what turned into quite a revealing outfit because the sheen cloth became nearly transparent when in any form of light. Then too mesmerized by his smile and the gleam of his eyes. His laugh was magical, as well. “I knew what you meant the first time, Louis.” The way he said his name made him feel something he couldn’t name. “I do appreciate it, thank you. I’ll think about it, yeah?”

Harry was supposed to stay an extra day and leave after the fact. He was going to be with friends and family for an unknown length of time before another event. And he hated not knowing exactly how much time he had with everyone before feeling like he was always being shipped off like some sort of package expedited off of Amazon. The travel to new continents and cities was phenomenal, and that itself he wouldn’t have traded for anything. A blessing of countless days with the people he cared for, though, he also wouldn’t trade that for anything if he had it. If he left his current company to start for someone famous, more so for someone who Harry had only ever heard praise of from the people who knew the world renowned starmaker, maybe that was a benefit he’d receive. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Good.” Harry smiled, any negative weight from his original interaction with Louis gone and replaced by lightheartedness. He stood from his spot, dusting off his bum and upper part of his thighs from any sand that may have stuck, and stretching out all the limbs he’d had bent in the same position for over thirty minutes. “Think I’ll head into the water for a bit.”

“You’re wearing skinny jeans.”

Harry stared at Louis, then at the water, before barely moving his shoulders up in a shrug. “Eh. I’ve made worse decisions, wouldn’t you say?” He asked, a cheeky smile playing on his features.

Louis grinned, standing up and dusting himself off, as well. “I’ll join you, then. We’ve both made some questionable choices today.” He toed off his black Vans, the sand exfoliating his skin once his toes had sunk into the naturally and humanly made dunes.

Harry‘s gaze was unwavering, “You don’t wear socks?”

“Don’t really see a point to them.” Louis casually replied, used to the odd wonder people seemed to have at this fact.

“Guess I really will be working for a menace, then.” Harry uttered, sighing dramatically before turning away from present company and heading towards the undoubtedly freezing waters, the wind becoming increasingly colder the closer he got to the softly roaring waves. He felt at peace in that moment, the chills running up his spine as the froth of the ocean washed up against his feet and soaked the bottoms of his jeans, the sounds of the water overlapping its own sequence playing as a melody to Harry’s ears and pulling him further into the tranquility of releasing the energy he put out when reluctantly joining a crashed wedding party and dealing with earlier. He’d become acquainted with the band, friendly with two more than the others, and settled a score he started keeping with Louis Tomlinson that only he was aware of but that he believed he was winning anyway. 

“Wait. Does that mean you’ll agree to the hire?” Louis called out. When he didn’t receive any form or reply except for a waving gesture telling him to follow along, he made an exasperated noise and stepped into the short trudge towards the spot beside Harry. If this was going to be the dynamic, it was going to be a very interesting rest of tour, though as Harry looked back looking even more ethereal with the movement of the water directly behind him, and they shared a smile of understanding and a possibly newfound friendship, Louis couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to the chance of getting to know the other man.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Harry was staying in the same hotel as the band—about four floors below and never having run into them because of obvious scheduling and the fact that Harry claimed himself as a foreign hermit the first three days outside of working the shows, so he didn’t interact with other human beings minus the desk clerk, but same establishment nonetheless. Of course, this fact only came to fruition because after rousing moments spent standing ankle deep in gradually cooling waters with friendly acquainted quips being thrown back and forth and six drinks (or was it seven?) between he and Louis Tomlinson, when the band issued it was time to leave and offered tipsy Harry a ride back before bringing him to get his rental in the morning. Which he did agree to, by the way, if only to humor a couple of the members who still wanted to hang out in case the job offer was declined. And maybe he actually did want to spend a bit more time with the rockstar who turned out to just be a purposely humongous child when he wanted to be and was actually as kind as the praises were sung.

Although, absolutely no one needed to know if that was the actual case for his acceptance of the drive in a jeep that was somehow able to fit all eight of them as if it was one of those brightly painted clown cars from the circus.

They all collectively shared one more drink at the bar located in the dining room towards the back right of the hotel lobby, and that was where the rejection of finishing the night off in one of two larger suites the men shared on the top floor came to light because Harry realized shit, I have to pack for my flight , instead of admitting that he just didn’t want to risk getting drunk in front of a celebrity again. (The last time was equal parts entertaining, embarrassing and monumentally ridiculous in that it was surely the highlight of others’ nights, and if it was ever brought up as even a sliver of a reference, Harry would change the subject or leave the room, claiming he had forgotten to do something. The times were few and far in between because only a carefully selected bunch were aware of that night’s antics, and yet it was that bunch that, while making jokes about it when they go out, at least don’t tell a soul outside of their very limited circle. Harry had put it in the far back of the filing cabinets that held his memories—in a folder marked Never Again placed inside a drawer called Drunken Nights that resided in the section of Stupid Things I’ve Done —and would never relay what he could remember to anyone else.)

When he awoke the morning after, it was thankfully nothing he couldn’t handle as the sides of his temple throbbed in the fashion of a toy hammer slapping down on a plastic, pretend nail. It definitely sounded worse than it actually was, however it was still no help when he barely opened his eyes to a knock knock knock on his door and a muffled voice asking if he was awake, the repetition of light rapping against the polished, locked entrance making him groan and roll over so he could try and guess who the bloody hell was waking him up at—he squinted at his phone as he held it on its side atop the end table—7:16 AM. With an exhausted moan and sluggish movements, he sat up and swung his legs over the side one by one, the overly fluffy comforter clinging to his every movement until he lazily kicked it off his ankles, tripping over the material as half of it was messily laying about the carpet. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers getting caught a bit in the tangled mess of curls as he tried to at least make the mop on his head presentable as he moved to open the door, the afterthought of looking through the peephole coming much too late as he swung it open and met the face of one Isaac Anderson. The younger male guitarist raised an amused eyebrow at the appearance of the person in front of him and greeted brightly, “Morning, Harry!”

Harry had second thoughts on responding because he’d always felt unsanitary and a bit trite speaking into any void or to another person before brushing his teeth, and while he was usually an early morning type, he also didn’t really expect to spend more time with anyone from the crew this soon, if at all. “Didn’t actually expect us to meet up again.” He spoke quietly, headache more apparent with the fluorescents from the hallway as he squinted from both the baby hangover and confusion, voice rough and deeper before clearing his throat as much as possible.

“Can’t exactly leave you alone if we want you on the team, can we?” Isaac questioned, bringing forward the hands held behind his back to hold out a bottle of water and two white pills, grinning when the door was widened and Harry stepped aside to let him in. “Figured you weren’t much of a drinker, so I brought reinforcements. Louis tends to bring out the carefree side of people.”

I’ve noticed . Harry merely nodded, uttering a thanks before he walked into the decently sized bathroom where his toothbrush lay in waiting. With no bother to shut the door or turn on the individual light, he made quick yet efficient work of cleaning his teeth until they were the pearly whites they’d been weirdly claimed to be by his mother, sister and limited number of friends. He stared at the shadowed face reflecting fatigue and alcoholic regret (he didn’t even drink as much as he would the times he would be convinced to do shots or accept drinks random bar men would send his way on a Friday or Saturday night. Though he supposed the fraction of a hangover he had was mostly from only drinking whiskey, apart from the martini earlier that night, and not his usual margarita or any other lighter beverage). He turned the cold water on and splashed as roughly as he could to wake himself so he could talk to Isaac proper, leaning over the sink to wet his hair to the best of his ability since there was clearly going to be no moment for a legitimate shower; he’d just take one later on when he was sure to not be interrupted. After using one of the hand towels to dry everything but the damp locks brushing the tops of his shoulders, he walked out to find Isaac sitting on the bed, remote in hand. “You tend to make yourself at home, don’t you?” He asked, taking the water he’d offered and popping in both Advil before chugging a third of the crinkling bottle.

“Usually, yeah. Anyway!” He responded, looking over at Harry with the friendliest smile he’d received from anyone while on this trip, “Came down to see if you want to join us for breakfast. We want to find some type of diner or something, and you mentioned exploring yesterday—”

Did he? Harry didn’t remember much of what he discussed with anyone before and after the situation with the locals.

“—come along.” Isaac was looking at him expectantly, and my god was the older man glad that the musician was able to get out most of what he said, otherwise the dumbfounded expression on his face would have lasted long enough to capture attention and he didn’t want to admit that he zoned out for any amount of time, reconnecting the dots to verbalize out a ‘sure, sounds fun’ and move for his bag. “Great! Most of ‘em are in the lobby already. Just waiting on Michael and Louis, though I should warn you that our leading man is not a morning person.”

The scene of the small rockstar throwing blankets over his head and wrecking his already unruly bedhead by rolling around to avoid any filters of light getting through the fabric and into his eyes while roughly and tiredly snapping at anyone or no one charged its way much too easily into Harry’s mind, a small smile and fond chuckle falling into place. “I can imagine.” He was already shuffling through the clothes sat in the black and lavender duffel when Isaac announced his leave to check up on the other two, leaving Harry to his own devices of figuring out what to wear. He could have opted for a speedy, ten minute shower, though he supposed by the time he was standing in the middle of the restroom in just a towel and with soaked hair, everyone would no doubt be downstairs waiting for his late arrival. So he buried his hands in the denim, sheer and airy fabrics of color neatly folded amongst one another, pulling out a pair of shorts that were cut off four inches above the knee and tossing them on the bed. He stripped off his pajama pants, stepping out of the bundle and refolding the cotton bottoms to set them aside, uttering a “bless you, Isaac” for the guitar player taking the bunched up comforter left on the floor and placing it back on the bed when Harry was in the bathroom. He picked up the dark gray shorts and shimmied them up his thighs, eyes never ceasing the scan of shirts at the top of the piles as he zipped up the front and snapped the buttons together. How much is too much? Everything he packed that covered his torso sported patterns big and small, sporadic and organized, sensical or nonsensical, none of them plain or solid. His blouse the night before adorned whole palm leaves for fuck’s sake, and Louis probably thought it was—“Nope. No. Just pick a top and go to the lobby.”

Why did he even care what the other male thought of his outfit? They were intent on complete avoidance of one another (more Louis than Harry, really) up until the unnerving confrontation between three drunk men, a concert securityman and a singer. And having been witness to the chaos that was being a celebrity more times than he would ever be able to count, even if he was interested in more than a platonic, currently acquainted relationship, there was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. He couldn’t let his own thoughts run past anything other than friendly. He moved his head side to side in rapid succession in hopes of literally shaking out the seeded sentiment, quickly grabbing at the bright blue button up with a large rose pattern along the entire back, four buds and two vines on the front and a pink butterfly settled upon the pocket on the left. He shoved his arms through one at a time and fastened all but the top two buttons, retrieving his pair of slip-ons. He held the hotel key between his teeth while gathering his wallet, phone and a pair of sunglasses from a side compartment, hoping he really wasn’t going to be the last one.

When Louis finally managed to emerge from the cavern that was messily tossing about clothes to pick out something that wouldn’t make him perspirate during the walk from the lobby to the car, he was donned in the pair of black and bluebird blue shorts from the first night of the shows, a normal white tee shirt and solid black Adidas. He was strutting his way down the corridor of the first floor, an effortlessly confident gait constantly in play while he attempted to hold the amusing conversation with Isaac and Michael as they all made their way to the lobby, despite his grumpiness of being made to awaken and leave the hotel before eight. The talk was stopped short when the rest of the band (including Josh) came into view and the man noticed a newly familiar figure with their back turned, sitting on the end of an armchair with one leg propped up onto the other, the simple, cream colored Vans bouncing up and down in place. His hair was wrapped up in a bun as opposed to the up-down style from the club outing, and Louis made the conclusion right there that even if he couldn’t see his face yet, the curly haired gent was the type to pull off anything.

“Finally!” Josh exclaimed from the sofa facing them, throwing his arms up in exclamation. “I’m starving over here, Tommo.”

Louis rolled his eyes, calling back, “No one was stopping you all from leaving, you know.”

“Wrong. Wrong.” Matt cut in, leaning forward from his spot besides the photographer and pointing at the brunette with the updo. “ He stopped us. He’s too nice, and it’s killing me.”

At the sound of quiet, elated laughter echoing within the room, a smile lit up the older man’s features. “Harry.”

The former finally turned and his laughter died down rather quickly, lips stretched into a sleepy albeit energizing grin that he swore made his heart stop for a full second. “Hi Louis. Hope you slept well.”

“I did. Would’ve been better if I wasn’t pulled off of my mattress.” He grumbled once the trio made it to the seating area, hands in his pockets and head tilted with narrowed, tired blue eyes towards the drummer and bassist. “If it was any earlier than it is now, your heads would be gone.”

“ Down with the bloody big head! ” Zak blurted, sitting up and stretching his arm out as he pointed his index finger at Louis, causing the man in question to roll his eyes.

“Let’s just fuckin’ go before anyone else makes an Alice reference.”

“Yes, My Red Majesty.” Steve formally bowed from where he now stood, barely dodging the fancy throw pillow that Louis stole from the armchair Harry rested on, which earned them all a dirty look or two from the clerks standing behind the elongated granite desk five yards away.

—

Breakfast Roma did wonders in having an atmosphere much more exquisite than its name may have led on. Harry was already a fan of the vines hanging off of the framed, glass awning, the curvature of the faux balconies resting against the exterior walls, the garden tables and chairs on the sidewalk, and the black iron gate that seemingly led into the restaurant. By the time they all reached the location (after bringing Harry to get his rental back from the parking lot because he was not going to bring his knees up to his chest and fold in on himself like last time) it was barely past opening, perfect timing for a band of musicians driving around with a temporarily viral sensation. The lack of people didn’t register at all in the mind of the man with denim shorts and a floral button up when he saw the end of the short pathway beyond the entrance. There was a tall, white stone staircase that led to a presumed second floor (or maybe even one of those second is actually first situation), wood and metal table setups along the lattice walls covered top to bottom in lush green vines and extending upwards into a shadowed overhead of tree branches flowing in leaves and small flowers, a gray stoned waterfall fountain built upon the wall at the very end from where they all stood with a lion carved above the pools of water, spherical lamp posts standing at each corner, small lights strung above in a zigzagging pattern, and right under a large, curved mirror beside the stairs was another table with three chairs, a stone bench that was no doubt cold to the touch in the shade and two pillows across it. He was so entranced by what was clearly a piece of Rome, Italy amongst the Latinx city, the awe on his face, no matter how subtle, making Louis’ breath hitch in his throat and waking him up completely when he noticed the small change in expression and shine of the small lights reflecting in rings of emerald as he looked above them.

Louis was about to speak up with a teasing tone while the others debated over where to sit after agreeing to stay out in the little courtyard, though he was beaten to the punch when an unknown voice called out his name in a questioning tone from behind him. Three girls stood in front of him when he turned around, his head tilting with a knowing smile when he noticed a shirt with his smiley logo on one of them and a photo of him and the band encasing a phone that another girl was holding up nervously. “I take it you like my music, then.”

“Are we that obvious?” The middle one grinned, sarcasm such an underlying tone it was almost lost within the Mexican accent of the teenager.

“Just a bit, love, yeah.” He laughed, making all of their smiles widen.

“We didn’t want to bother you too much. We just wanted a picture, maybe?” It looked to be a gear up for another part of the verbal inquisition when she glanced around at the lads who were likely already sitting and watching the usual interaction (if Michael’s dramatic “can’t take this man anywhere ” was anything to go by), her eyes widening at one of the figures behind him. “Aren’t you Harry Styles?”

Louis’ attention was momentarily brought to the one in question, seeing green open up in surprise at being recognized by one of his fans. He shifted his gaze around as if someone else with the same exact name would spring out from the door above them or behind a table and declare themselves the real Harry. When their eyes met for a brief second, Harry’s cheeks bloomed into a shade of pink from being under sudden scrutiny and becoming the center of attention as he stumbled over his words in quick succession—an utter turnaround from the man who held another against a wall for catching a grip on Louis’ shirt. “Sorry,” he finally answered, “Not really used to being noticed at all.”

“How could we not?” The tallest of the trio asked rhetorically. “We were all at the barricade together and recognized you from TikTok. And then that whole Twitter thing happened. It was really funny seeing the way you chased each other last night.”

“That’s..” The men echoed one another, sharing a glance where Harry grinned and Louis childishly frowned, rolling his eyes when he noticed the lip bite that he already knew much too well meant he was trying to hide his laughter.

“It’s not funny.”

Harry cackled, covering his mouth immediately after the sound escaped his mouth. Ignoring the raised eyebrow and giggles, he still managed to give a nonchalant smile and cock his head at a short angle. “It’s very funny.”

“Piss off, Styles.” The singer mumbled, physically averting his spotlight vision back on the fans that approached him in the first place, smiling at them once more. “You all wanted some pictures, yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“With Harry, too, if you don’t mind.” The dark blonde one suggested sheepishly, her eyes locked on the taller male.

“Oh. Sure?” Harry’s eyes were narrowed as he looked off to the side and processed the request, blinking slowly to refocus. “Sure, yeah. Odd to want a photo with some random security person, though I suppose TikTok and all those events I worked made me into an expert of fan behavior,” he joked, pleasantly surprised the absolutely horrid quip made them laugh even just a little as his features lit up in way did not put Louis’ fondness to ease, “but I’m for it.”

“TikTok does not count as a place of expertise.” Louis snorted, starting to settle into being photo-ready as he slung protective arms around two of the teenagers, the girl with the very stylish phone case passing her mobile over to Harry so he could get a group shot for them.

The semi-curly haired man watched as she returned to her friends and the performer instinctively shuffled around until he could somehow have a hold on all of them, his hand resting on her shoulder. “You’re just grumpy because the one time you used it, you fell down the straight man rabbit hole and couldn’t get out of it for an hour. Took you days to get over the unwanted abs and thirst trap videos.”

“I told you that in drunken confidence, you wanker.”

“You weren’t drunk.” Harry replied. Then, sharing his gaze amongst the girls so he could make sure they knew he was talking to all of them, “He wasn’t drunk. Just very sorry for acting like a child.”

“Toddler.” One of them corrected.

“Toddler.” Harry repeated.

“Don’t help him.”

Harry grinned wider than ever, the giggles of clear amusement from the fans and encouragement from the band from behind that made Louis flip them off giving him so many reasons at once to be at peace. He crouched a bit so he could capture a full view of the merchandise. “Smile!” He took several that included all of them, each with slightly different angles that earned an eye roll afterwards that he ignored, before letting them have individual pictures on their own respective cell phones. It didn’t take up much time at all when taken into account the banter that occurred beforehand, and honestly the fact that they wanted some with him had flown out of the nest of his mind so fast it would’ve given someone whiplash had they been witness to the inner workings of his thoughts. When the ringleader (who he only guessed was more the leader type because while everyone spoke up, she talked and initiated conversation the most. An extrovert if he’d ever seen one) brought it back up he immediately flushed, “Right. Almost forgot about that.” He attempted to mutter at the end, failing because their courtyard space was quiet save for the small chatter and echoes bouncing off of the stone surfaces. “Is a picture with a show-going nobody really necessary?” He squeaked out, suddenly feeling self conscious. It was enough with one incident from months ago that still had people floating onto his Twitter or reposting at the most random of moments and when those bursts of attention happened, no matter how smooth he acted, it was a lot. Strangers knowing his name and interests and plastering his face everywhere for enjoying some guitar playing was overwhelming. 

Louis took two long strides forwards and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, Styles. Indulge the young ones.” He motioned towards them with a hand sweep and smiled warmly at the younger man, almost as if he knew why Harry was now hesitating to do something he said he initially was okay with. “It’ll be quick, I promise. We can take one together if you want.”

“So you can use it as blackmail? No, thank you.”

“Use— What the hell kind of blackmail are you thinking of, mate?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t think that part through.” Harry shrugged, clearing his throat and side stepping so Louis’ hand dropped from his shoulder. He kept the casual smile in tow as he agreed once more to have the same small photoshoot, Isaac taking the liberty to make his way over and comment on the new bout of fame as he helped them get the pictures done. You could feel the awkwardness as much as you saw it during the group pictures but by the time they asked for solo ones as well, his shoulders and upturned lips were relaxed, hands loosely placed atop a shoulder and any hugs friendly as ever. It still made him internally anxious but the joy and excitement on their faces did deter it a bit as he went along with it all, actually enjoying the unusual interaction. They did ultimately come to the conclusion that a picture of Louis and Harry together was absolutely necessary because it was more than a rare sight (sure to never happen again, one of them said) to find Louis Tomlinson with any kind of social media sensation, and the occasion needed to be documented.

Louis saw no issue, his insides fluttering about at the prospect of having evidence of their first outing together that didn’t include him holding a pointless grudge. And if the thought of being able to physically look back on it to see hopefully winning smiles with arms behind one another’s backs brought a rise to his cheeks that he would soon blame on the sun regardless of being in the shade, no one had to know. “Come on, then. Let’s take that photo.”

“Right.. alright.”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“You aren’t moving, lad.”

Harry’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water, the entire interaction proving to be a form of entertainment for the boys who had forgotten about the food they ordered twenty minutes prior and were watching the scene unfold before them. “Come on .” Louis chuckled, gesturing a circular motion towards himself, “We’ve still got hours before our flight leaves. Don’t want to spend it standing here.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Harry refused to look at him once they were settled, his hand immediately resting on Louis’ waist while the latter did the same, a barely visible grip on Harry’s while his fingers curled into the loose fabric of the man’s button up.

The blush that crawled its way across Harry’s cheeks when he felt the slight tug was immediate, and he subtly dipped his head as Isaac grinned (there was no way he wasn’t going to play photographer for this moment, so he convinced one of the two men to hand their phone over when he trotted over). “Alright boys! Say cheese, please. This will be the first of many.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” Harry retorted jokingly, knowingly, perfect simper matching the beaming expression on his face at the indication that he was very much wanted as part of the team. Not that any of them have said or implied otherwise.

“We’re hopeful.” Isaac shrugged, rolling his eyes playfully and repeating himself so the pair could give a couple of show stopping smiles, taking several before announcing he was done and passing Louis his phone.

The fans that caught them at the restaurant were beyond giddy over what they were able to witness and questioned whether it was alright for one to be taken from one of their own phones, which at the time didn’t seem to be a big deal considering Louis was prone to partaking in photographs with crew, so he went along with the request, grip on Harry’s shirt unwavering. By the time the encounter was over and everyone returned to the table the group picked out, there were half empty or full plates of food on the table, a spot saved for the platonic couple on the bench underneath the enlarged mirror, and the shadows casted by the sun filtering through the trees and branches had shifted considerably as the gassed star continued to gradually rise to peak in the sky. Harry and Louis sat down beside one another, no surprise to find two stacks of pancakes resting between forks and knives. After all, the boys knew Louis much too well to choose for him, and it was easy enough to guess for their new friend considering how go with the flow he seemed to be outside of working. “They had these matcha pancakes? That’s a type of tea, right? They had those, and we thought you might like them.” Michael offered when asked why his were green as compared to the singer’s golden light brown.

Harry smiled, “I quite enjoy matcha, actually. Thanks.”

“So they’re made with tea?” Louis questioned, eyeing the pile of flapjacks with furrowed brows. “Sounds odd.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try—hey!” He complained, a utensil that wasn’t his sticking into the top pancake and swapping it for one of Louis’, the action causing an uproar of soft laughter after seeing the instant pout on Harry’s face.

Louis looked at the jutted pink lip and pinched space between the man’s eyebrows and lost the words he was prepared to fire back with, lips parted but no sound coming out. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat before comments could be made, ignoring the absolutely adorable features and cutting a piece of the green hotcake. “Would you have given me some if I asked?”

“No,” Harry snorted, “you have your own.”

“Exactly my point.” He replied, popping the piece into his mouth after drowning it in syrup.

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned his gaze to the orange drink sitting behind his plate. He picked it up and took a sip. “Huh.. I thought this was orange juice.”

“Technically is, innit? Orange juice and champagne, I think.” Zak cut in, voice warbled while he stuffed scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Never had one but I wasn’t in the mood, so I offered to get one for you since it sounded like your type of alcoholic beverage.”

Matt sighed, “Just say drink, Zak. We all know mimosas have alcohol.”

“I want another.”

Josh shook his head, “You barely touched that one.”

“Well if this one is going to be stealing my food all day, I think a little liquid courage is necessary.”

Louis waved a dismissive hand, “Don’t worry, Curly. Your taste in food is not my cup of tea—pun very much intended.”

“That was horrible.” Harry deadpanned. “If I’m going to work for you, please get better jokes.”

Chapter Text

“Shitshitshitshitshit..” Harry muttered, frantically staggering around the hotel room while the alarm on his phone he forgot to shut off when he jumped out of bed went off for about the fifth time. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Just stop.” He groaned as he dove for the device plugged into the outlet beside the headboard, shoving his face in view of the front camera so it could unlock and he was able to swipe feverishly to turn the snooze off, swiftly opening up his messages right after. His eyes skimmed the few texts he’d received from the group chat the guys created with him earlier that day, seeing that most of them were already packed and dressed, rushing everyone else along. Four out of the eight of them were ready to head to the car that would take them to the airport, and Harry, the poor soul who they were able to convince to take the job simply by being chaotically nice, was part of the ones who were not. When they got back to the establishment after being out all day, he was upbeat from three mimosas yet sleepy from a small food coma, and the first thing he did when reaching his own temporary residence was flop onto the mattress without a bother to cover himself up or take off his shoes. The alarm he set after having canceled his flight following the rendezvous to the Pyramid of the Sun and Plaza Garibaldi had gone off at the right intervals of time but Harry didn’t startle awake until the third, completely forgetting to shut it off once he saw the time was half past when he should have been on his way downstairs. He’d been stumbling about the room since, the last fifteen minutes nothing but a rush to make sure his cell’s adapter was wrapped around itself and set into a side pocket, his towel rolled up and stuffed in with the two-in-one strawberry watermelon hair product pushed right underneath it, making sure his toothbrush wasn’t left in the bathroom again, and the bed was made as neatly as possible. He absolutely hated leaving it a mess, knowing very well there were people employed for such a task and would replace the sheets and toiletries anyway but never having it sit right if he left things in such disarray. When he took the short moment to look himself in the mirror after grabbing the brushes and toothpaste from atop the sink, he noted the bedhead leftover from his nap and huffed before sharply shaking his head. Just leave it; can’t be worse than it seems.

He double checked everything at top notch speed, zipping up the lavender bag just as his door swung open, making him jump a bit at the sudden entrance. “Harry, please tell me you’re awake.” Isaac sighed, eyes covered as he scrubbed his face.

The curly haired man gaped like a fish, straightening up from his position on the ground to look at Isaac properly, one brow raised in questionable amusement, voice still a bit rough from having barely speaking since waking up. “I.. am awake?”

“Good. Thank god.” The younger one sighed, finally bringing his gaze to Harry to find the fair confusion evident on his face. “Sorry, still have three blokes running around upstairs. Said they would meet us in five but—”

“Isaac, mate, what’s taking you so long?!”

“We’ve been waiting for you for ages! Matt here just about lost it looking for you.” New voices sounded from the hallway, the distance of them unable to be detected as it was accompanied by a small stampede of rushed footsteps. The view in front of a less frantic Harry was now an exhausted Isaac with two instrumentalists and a lead vocalist standing behind him, chests pumping as they each took different stances to try and catch their breaths, bags over their shoulders or plopped onto the floor when they reached the doorway. The singer was bent forward with his hands on his knees, leaning back up after three pants to point at the guitarist. “You should really join a gym, man. You seem a bit out of shape.” Louis offered, still a little breathless from the endless running the trio did after figuring out they were all left to fend for themselves while the rest of the group was already in the lobby. 

“ Me? I need to join a gym?” Isaac looked at his bandmate and friend incredulously, index finger aimed at himself. He shook his head without waiting for a response or giving a reaction to the first bit that was kindly shouted from down the corridor. “Count yourselves lucky because we have to go. Come on, H.”

The man in questioned blinked. He’d lost himself in the chaos that already seemed to be brewing amongst the group and it was only seven at night. “Right. Yes.” He responded, albeit a bit groggy and robotically, swiftly grabbing for the top handles of his bag. He felt around his pockets before his eyes widened, head snapping towards the nightstand and breath regaining its nearly lost regularity when he spotted the cellphone. He snatched it up along with the hotel keys and grasped them tightly, steps quick as he moved to follow the others into the hall and back towards the lifts. The elevator ride would have been quiet if it weren’t for the countless jokes going on between Matt, Michael and Louis. Harry spared a glance over at the last band member in the elevator when they hit the second floor, the man’s eyes closed while he inaudibly mumbled to himself. Harry leaned over to fake a whisper, “What are you doing?”

Anderson looked at him and copied his actions, “Praying I don’t slap the Three Stooges by the time we’ve reached the other boys.” Adding a wink that made the other grin and shake his head.

“Oi! Rude.” Matt exclaimed, smacking the back of Isaac’s head, who only held the spot and shot a glare behind him. “We can’t help being comedic geniuses.”

At the same moment, Louis took to hitting the back of his friend’s shoulder. “Who said you could wink at him?”

“I did. Because I had to come get all of you while everyone else had peace and quiet.”

“I don’t really mind it, to be honest.” Harry offered, echoing Isaac’s gesture from a minute ago and causing both of them to laugh at how ridiculous they were being. It felt nice; knowing he already had a friend in the group he could joke around with the way he did with the ones back home.

“Well I mind. So would you please—” Louis huffed out, hiking up the pack hanging off of his back and using his arms to create more than a few inches of space between them so he could push his longtime buddy out of the way and take the spot beside the one with the kinda-sorta-curls. He shoved his hands into the pocket of the oversized Adidas hoodie that made him look much smaller than he already looked, trying and failing at avoiding the stare he felt from his left that was sure to raise a blush to his cheeks if it went on any longer. “What?” He asked, turning his head towards Harry right as the movement below them ceased.

“Nothing.” Harry shrugged, though the teasing tone of voice did nothing to quell any nerves. Before Louis could say something along the lines of his usual sarcastic or very humorous remarks, the silver doors slid open to reveal the lowest level of the building. Everyone spilled out into the first floor grounds of the hotel as Isaac rushed them down towards the left where the enormous opening of the lobby and four other men were awaiting their arrival, exasperation clear on their faces when they saw the other half of the group approach.

“Finally! I swear you lot want us to miss our flight.” Josh complained, leaning back against the check-in counter.

“Stop losing your heads over it.” Louis groaned, giving a pointed stare at Zak when the keyboard player felt the need to make the same Red Queen joke from hours before. “We have a private jet. The bloody hell are we going to miss it?”

“Semantics.” Steve waved off. “Still have a car waiting, and it’s an 11 hour flight.”

Zak nodded, “We’d like to sleep again, if you want to hurry your arses up.” He gestured towards the pair of revolving doors with a sweep of his arms. “The chariot awaits.”

Isaac snorted, speed walking with a controlled face now that he was with the seemingly more responsible ones. Harry still had to return the key cards so he waved everyone else off, telling them what he was doing so no one made it their business to chuck something at him like they did with balled up napkins at the hotel bar when Harry called it a night and wanted to go upstairs. No one hesitated to hurriedly head towards the doors, all the luggage and bodies pushing against one another causing the transparent walls to trap them inside the spaces between each panel of glass for about three minutes—checking out only took one. Harry spent the next watching them attempt to untangle themselves before he glanced over to the normal entrance-exit a foot away from the mess of mates and shifted the bag on his shoulder, pushing onto the bar that unlatched the lock mechanism, allowing the door to swing outward so he could step through. When the others finally managed to rid themselves from being stuck in the threshold, they quite literally stumbled (some bags spilling onto the cement, mind you) upon the newest crew member folding his arms across the top of an open back door, one leg propped up on the step of the black, a-celebrity-is-in-here mode of transportation. “About time you unraveled yourselves. I nearly told the driver to leave without you.”

“How did you get there before us? You were at reception!” Josh exasperated, everyone’s words overlapping, only aiding in amusing the Holmes Chapel man more.

Harry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he jammed a thumb in the direction of the simple walk through, heads turning and expressions molding into the realization that they carried no common sense among them when leaving. Faces lax and shoulders slumped in defeat, he rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you all rushing us five minutes ago? Come on, come on.”

He ended up getting some pebbles thrown at him; small and only aimed at his feet but he made the effort to look affronted anyway.

The shame was unmistakable and hilarious, but among it was a voice cutting through the abrupt silence with “I call the seat next to Harry!”

Isaac scoffed and shoved Louis’ shoulder, “If anyone’s sitting next to Harry, it’s his new best friend.” He announced, hand gripped on his suitcase as he didn’t bother for a response and started his way to the trunk. He was only able to make it three steps before a figure rushed past him without a word, Louis starting off a small race to the back of the Hummer as the other boys paid nothing else mind while they swiftly gathered their own bags and ran after him. 

Harry slid into his seat upon the leather interior, door shut beside him, pressing the button to roll the window until it was invisible so everyone could still hear each other properly. “I’m locking the doors.” He called back to the rambunctious scene happening behind him; he could see elbows shoving each other through the reflection in the rearview mirror; heard the offended shouts being tossed around. He grinned when he received grumbled responses and one clear as day ‘you spend one night with us and suddenly you’re a menace’ from Matt before hearing the trunk be slammed shut. There were pointless, rushed footfalls as everyone attempted to pile back into the rental they’d gotten for the trip. Harry had already placed himself in the position he had to be seated in the last time everyone squished into the dark vehicle—his legs were pushed together, ankles gently crossed against one another, left hand warmly tucked between his thighs while the other was free for him to rest his chin on during the drive. Louis actually did end up being the one to take the only free space beside him, tucking into Harry’s side neatly, hands back in the one pocket of his sweater as he shot the younger one an award winning grin that was reciprocated with a very dimpled smile. “Guess you beat out Isaac, then.”

Louis snorted, “Please, Harold. Was there ever any doubt?”

“I’m going to drive over every single pothole on your side.” They heard from the driver’s seat, Louis proper offended at the prospect, the open mouthed, wide eyed expression doing nothing but rising a barked laugh out of the wavy haired (alleged) menace.

When Louis’ head whipped back to his right, the sound ceased immediately. Harry’s teeth were pulling back his bottom lip, tears already threatening to fall down from the corners of his eyes and the apple of his cheeks a bare pink from holding it in, attempting to contain the hilarity of the moment that he knew was plain on his face either way. Louis watched a curled strand fall forward and smiled, both easily entertained and loving the fact that the face he made (which surely wasn’t even that funny) could cause such a reaction.

—

If there was one thing Harry Styles was sure of the moment he was settled back into the cream colored, leather armchair the same width of furniture store recliners, it was that he would never become accustomed to a life that led him where he was he right now, sat across from a world famous musician, his entire band and photographer who were all so familiarized with the way of private travel they dove right into napping and playing games. He watched as one of three flight attendants rolled over a tray with two short stacks of pancakes, sunny side eggs, sides of bacon and a kettle resting upon an insulation pad accompanied by a small boat of sugar cubes and a tiny jug of milk. He was as confused as ever because they’d only been in the air for about an hour and he never asked for anything, but thanked the woman anyway because there was no reason not to. He eyed the occupant of the seat in front of him and was met with an innocent gaze and raised eyebrows, blue eyes flickering to the meal. “Not going to eat, Styles?”

“I didn’t say I was hungry.”

Louis shrugged, leaning forward with his elbow on the armrest and chin set in his palm. “You seem like the breakfast type.”

Harry matched the energy easily, placing both elbows on each knee and bringing the inward of his hands up to hold his jaw. “And you’re not, I take it.”

The corner of Louis’ lips twitched. “When it suits me.” He lifted his shoulders once more, sitting back after observing Harry’s stance, gesturing to what was placed beside them. “So?”

“You’re going to eat with me, aren’t you? Because if you think I can scarf these down like some world champion eater, you are going to be vastly disappointed.”

At that, Louis’ mouth pinched together at a terrible try in containing the enjoyment he got out of the simplest implication. “That was the plan, yes. Eating with you, I mean.” He clarified when there was a pause in conversation, showing a few teeth when he shot the smallest of grins.

Harry scrutinized him greatly. There was no trust when it came to food. The habit of stealing off of Harry’s plate came quickly to the celebrity while they were all out and about until heading to the hotel for a couple of hours before having to leave, resulting in two food fights and one instance of Harry holding his ice cream cone as far up in the air as he could knowing he had a good two (maybe three) inches of advantage. Not that it ended very well. It did end up falling onto the ground from a great height, the frozen dessert splattering onto the sidewalk, and if he shed an actual tear or two when crouched down to scoop up as much as possible with the napkins Michael gave him then absolutely no one had to know. It was the perfect swirl of strawberry and chocolate and was so superior to other shops he’d been to that the childish part of him considered just living there forever, so losing it was something that took him an hour to get over even though Isaac offered up the second half of his because he was never going to finish it anyway. Because Isaac was smart and chose to get a cup instead of a waffle cone. And Harry, having been given the offer in the saddened moment without his own treat, well, his eyes lit up so quickly it was like someone turned a switch on inside his brain. Louis definitely did not feel a pang of unnecessary jealousy as he finished off his own purchase.

Maybe that’s why the singer was partially tempted to ask for just one order of the breakfast he bothered the stewardess for when Harry went to use the bathroom. Tempted but refrained from doing so, because it was one thing to do what friends normally do and share their sweets with a fallen comrade. It was another thing entirely to eat off of the same plate, cutting pieces from the same stack of flapjacks and having fork fights over the eggs and drinking tea as they sit across from one another, plus the others were in a different part of the plane, so it technically was just the two of them. Everything about it seemed much too couple-y. There was no way he was going to risk turning this into an awkward experience, so he ignored the appeal of the idea. Besides, the end result turned out much better than it would have been even if Harry didn’t find anything odd in the first request.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed of witty jokes, light conversation and playful digs at the little quirks they’d picked up on with one another—like the way Harry ate his meals tongue first, or how Louis refused to drink pretty much any kind of tea that wasn’t Yorkshire, and if he was served anything but, he would either push it aside or attempt at making it taste at least somewhat the same (which would never really work out and he’d be left frowning at a cuppa of the worst imitation). One moment they were having a lively debate over Louis despising avocados purely because they were trendy while Harry quite enjoyed guacamole and avocado toast, and the next Louis found himself watching the way strands from Harry’s lack of styled hair spilled over his cheeks and eyes as he slept. He wasn’t entirely sure how the boy was comfortable with one leg folded up onto the seat and the other hanging over the shared armrest of the chair attached to where he was resting but it was endearing nonetheless. The way the movement under his eyelids gave away that he was dreaming, the sunlight cutting through the glass of the open window beside him and creating a frame of light over half of his face, casting the rest in a contrasting shadow and highlighting the individual waves upon his head, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he curled in on himself, arms crossed over his stomach. Louis observed how peaceful he looked—really, how peaceful he always looked whether he was having a relaxed conversation with one of the boys or was cackling at something Louis said that wasn’t as funny as he made it seem—before pushing himself up and heading towards the small storage closets in the back where the luggage was kept.

He sorted through the limited assortment of blankets and pillows they stored up on prior to the start of tour knowing full well how many hours they’d be in the air, finding one that he deemed perfect by quality and how soft it felt. Josh sidled up to him and grabbed for one of the larger cushions from the cupboard, a fleeting look of casualty towards Louis’ careful consideration of what was in front of them. “You joining us for nap time, Tommo?”

“Too awake for that.” He replied, shaking his head. “No, no. Harry’s fallen asleep so I’m just grabbing a couple of things.”

“Ah, caring for the boyfriend, I see...” Josh trailed off, tone cheerfully taunting and ignoring the pointed stare he could already feel burning the side of his skull.

“I’ve already said I’m not dating the bloody Pepsi security.”

“But he isn’t Pepsi security anymore, is he?” The photographer shot back. “He works with us now, and he lives in London as well, which means you’ll see him just as much as us. Maybe even run into him at a pub or something over this break between legs, I don’t know.” He shrugged, tilting his head back as he listed off several more scenarios in which Louis and Harry could find themselves in the same place. “You could even call him up to—”

“Yes. Okay. I got it.” Louis groaned, sliding a hand down the side of his face while he grabbed a blanket that looked suitable enough for the prince in the airline seat. “Now shove off or I’m telling everyone what you binge eat at two in the morning.”

“The one when I’m sad or the one when I’m just in the mood to binge?”

“When you’re sad.”

Josh pulled a face of pure offense; he didn’t need people to know anything about what he did in the middle of the night on particularly low nights. The only reason Louis did was because he was staying over one night and walked into the kitchen in the midst of said event and has not let him live it down since. “Fine. But I better get credit where credit is due when you get the other half of your brain back.”

“Joshua, sod off !” Louis exclaimed, hitting him with the folded comforter in his arms as he laughed and walked away.

The return to his seat didn’t bode without a bit of mess as the other tossed crisps and peanut packets at him, bonding in teasing him even after he threw some back, gave them the bird and sped up his steps to avoid more pelting. Harry hadn’t moved at all aside from his legs now being tangled over each other, feet planted on the carpeted ground. Louis did his best at reclining the seat at the slowest pace possible, pausing midway through setting the blanket over him when he stirred in his sleep, a small sounds of sensing disturbance humming through his unopened lips. When he didn’t wake, however, Louis sighed in relief and finished fitting the cover a bit more snuggly around him. He stood up, admiring how small and cute the sight before him was but agreeing not to disclose that information with anyone but his own he’s-cute-ask-him-out heart and not-when-we-work-together brain. Notwithstanding, he didn’t want to seem like a creep, so he grabbed his phone from the cup holder in his chair and headed to the opposite where it was the same setup minus two loungers. He checked the time on his phone and did a small calculation in his head before unlocking his phone and swiping not for too long through his recent calls, not hesitating to press down on the name staring up at him.

“I need advice.”

“Should’ve known. Why else would you call up your best wingman on her only day off of the week if not to tell you you’re being stupid?” The female voice chimed.

Louis huffed, “I’d tell you to fuck off, love, but that goes without saying.”

“Clearly.” There was shuffling on the other end of the line and, contrary to not giving her room to greet him after he heard the call be picked up, he waited patiently, almost absolutely positive she was getting a cup of coffee ready for herself to deal with whatever day she had planned. He could hear the closing of cupboards and loud tap of something being set on a countertop or table. “Alright. What did you do?”

“Always assuming the worst, aren’t you?”

“Eh.” He could practically hear the grin and see the casual shrug on the other end of the line and rolled his eyes. “Are you going to tell me or do I have to hang up and wait for you to call back after stewing over how many names to call me?”

“Piss off, Ash.” The instant laughter did ease him a bit, he had to admit.

He met Ash three years ago, just a couple of months after she moved to London with one of her friends. It was a widely slow day in a music shop on the quieter side of the city he frequented when he wasn’t too busy, and his interest was peaked when he noticed her eyeing the Sam Fender vinyl albums in the back corner dedicated to the large discs and record players. He couldn’t help himself from butting in after two minutes, and didn’t find out she was also a fan of his own music until after, when she’d stopped her rambling about the artist and realized who she was talking to. The encounter was wonderfully odd, and she’d never had one of her—as her roommate called them months later when Louis met the other girl as well—famous meltdowns in front of him or recited them to him in order to stay friendly and be respectful. He definitely didn’t have any fans that became friends, especially in such a way, and he allowed the two into his life. It took a long time for real trust and becoming confidants to happen but once it did, Ash was one of the only people he went to for sound advice. Not that the other lads didn’t do so, but they also chose to tease him in between their brotherly we’re here for you moments.

“Come on, Tomlinson. I promise I’ll behave.”

Louis sighed, letting his body relax against the cushioned exterior of the recliner. “Well to start, is it safe to assume you know who Harry Styles is?”

“Yes. I distinctly remember you texting me to complain about him on night three and then later that same night to admit you were a dick. Also to tell me he’s part of the crew and ignoring me when I asked for details.” She stated, tone light and mocking at the same time. “You took a photo with him too, right? He’s really cute.”

“How..” Right. He never actually asked them not to post the photo; he didn’t see a reason to. It made sense if the fans he met earlier had done so after how excited they were. “Nevermind. I’m just.. I think I’m in a situation, and I need to know how to handle it.”

“You think you’re in a situation that happens to involve the cute security guard?”

“Just said that, didn’t I?”

“I could fly out to a show just to punch you, you know. And I’d enjoy it.”

“I have no doubt. Advice, please.”

“Fine, fine. Assuming that this has to do with someone feeling some things.” Louis was growing more and more regretful of initiating this conversation. “You don’t have to do anything if you’re attracted to him but if you think you might have actual feelings despite your I-refuse-to-date-coworkers bullshit—”

“Jesus,” Louis sighed, “making me sound like a square.”

“Only squares call themselves squares, Louis.” She retorted before continuing, “I can’t avoid making it sound primary, but if you think you might have a crush on him, then make some moves and go for it. He sounds nice, you haven’t denied that he’s attractive, and he’s lasted more than four days with you which I think says the most.”

“Do you have a bet on how many times you can insult me before I actually tell you to piss off?”

“Michelle does, actually.”

“Well tell her to fuck off, then.” He heard a new voice shout a muffled apology in the background, an exasperated laugh betraying the irritation he was trying to display. “How are you guys?”

“We’re fine. Nothing too exciting on our end because we aren’t famous singers in the middle of a world tour.”

“Michelle’s getting there, isn’t she? She'll be on the road herself pretty soon.”

“Slow your roll, sunshine. The universe is taking its unbearably sweet time with me. Coming along slowly.” The second girl responded, her voice much clearer as she likely situated herself beside Ash once she heard herself be included. “Got some chords done for a couple of new songs, though. I have a gig at the pub this Saturday.”

“I’ll have to come with the boys.”

She snorted, and Louis realized how much he missed his two American friends with no filter on either of them and enough sarcasm to last a lifetime. “Not that I’d give you much of a choice knowing that you’ll be back home. You need to stay after the set, too.”

He smiled to himself, “Of course, love.”

“Why does your ‘love’ sound different from mine?” Ash questioned instantly.

“Because I didn’t call him stupid right off the bat. Anyway,” Michelle went on before her roommate could be offended, “make sure you bring Harry.”

“Right. And I’ll be sure to tell Isaac you did not ask for him, then.”

“Tell him that and I’m stealing Clifford away for a week.”

Louis had to cover his mouth so his puff of amusement this time around wasn’t as loud as he knew it would be had they been face to face and he could personally see the glare he’d have received. They wanted to meet Harry but he wasn’t sure if the poor man would have been able to handle the amount of attitude on top of the chaos that came with befriending the guys alone. Though he couldn’t deny that the thought of Harry knowing more of his friends under a normal day out and not following a string of concerts, during a much more tame and casual environment, had filled his stomach with the smallest of flurry of wings beating around inside. It felt right somehow, bringing him more into his circle, despite how quickly he was becoming attached. “Alright, girls. I’ll call when we’ve touched down and gotten settled.”

“I guess we could let you get back to your boy.” Ash sighed. My boy. Louis tried not to let that sentiment get to his head. “Talk later, Louis.”

“Bye, Lou!”

When he said his goodbyes to the pair of young women and hung up, he slouched back, arms lack against the armrests and legs apart like he’d just thrown himself into the seat after a solid workout, shaking his head as he looked out the window. He couldn’t figure out what it was about Harry that made him want to be so close and give obvious special treatment compared to his other friends. Were they even actual friends? Or was it Louis trying to make up for being so rude to him in the first place that stayed being the main fuel for being so nice and affable towards the security guard? And it wasn’t just him, of course. Josh and the band were already well into considering Harry one of their mates, looking forward to maybe meeting up over the next two weeks, having been the ones to edge him towards hiring the twenty-eight year old and getting Louis to see reason in the first place. Every moment after was purely his doing, and it was hard to understand the pull he felt towards him.

He heard a small groan from his left and some shifting. Harry had moved around again, no doubt to get more comfortable in his sleep, and the blanket Louis grabbed had fallen to the floor. He pushed himself out of the lounger and took the three short strides over, lifting the soft green fabric off the floor and setting it over him, redoing any light tucking. The frown on Harry’s face twitched and his face relaxed at the motion, and Louis could only lament as he looked at the soft expression, whispering to himself, “What are you doing to me, Styles?”

Chapter Text

To be completely fair, the only reason Louis spent time just sitting and watching the younger man in front of him sleep was because he had nothing better to do.

Okay, well, maybe he did have a few better things to do and just couldn’t be compelled to do them. Because there was someone who looked so soft and angelic across from him that part of him was very resistant to even look out the window, let alone focus his attention on anything else. Every time he would pull out his laptop to play around on his audio engineering software, tap beats on the bend of his knees with the pads of his fingers when listening to the music through his earbuds, or try to engross himself in one of the few psychology books he’d brought on tour, he found himself glancing over at the slightest movement or sound or reminder that even when unconsciously tangling himself up, Harry continued to look radiant.

Louis hated it.

They were on hour ten of the eleven hour flight back home—which meant hour six with a sleeping security boy, including when taking his own two hours—and anyone else who had gone into slumber could be heard waking up and shuffling their things around. He chewed the pad of his left thumb so much while scrolling through his thoughts, it turned red and felt like a small bug bite if he pressed down on it, the fingers of his right hand holding the corner of a page from the opened The Psychopath Test . He didn’t even realize he was staring this time. Didn’t notice at all that the glance he took this time turned into a blatant gaze that paused all movements minus the motion of a bit of skin between his front teeth. Not until a rough voice reintroduced itself to the rest of the plane and Louis’ eyes widened, blinking slowly when the sleepy shine of green met his already pointed gaze, slender body pushed up as Harry took his time readjusting to the bright lighting of the plane, observing the blanket draped over him and feeling the stretch of the reclined seat. His eyes traveled back up to the man frozen in place, blue snapping to the side to instead take in the way the light struck through the slits between the wall and window.

It is very safe to say that when the plane finally landed at Heathrow, the singer was ecstatic to be rid of the teasing that ensued once he gave himself away.

It was an extremely early Thursday morning back home, the sky a hazy purple of dusk, and movements sluggish now that they were back in their native timezone and aware that their homes and beds were waiting for them with open arms, the buzz from earlier dissipated as jet lag began hitting harder than ever. Louis himself couldn’t wait to relieve the dog sitter and spend as much time as possible cuddling up with his dogs for the day, catching up on sleep lost from staying out so late, ordering takeout while he lazes about the house until he has the energy to drive out to see people. A whole two days of nothing but naps, pizza and doggie snuggles. Perfect.

He and Harry took to the back of the group, quiet conversations about how everyone was getting to their respective places surrounding them. Most of the band lived in the cityscapes of London, Matt and his wife were in some family friendly suburbs, Josh had a townhouse bricked between others downtown, and Louis was right outside the city. He loved the hustle and bustle once in a while but because it felt so fast paced once he hit the road, the lazy Sundays and nights out with friends were more of a blessing each time. “You have a way home?” He decided to ask.

“Uh.” Harry pushed up the duffel hanging off his right shoulder, fingers curling around the wide strap so it wouldn’t strain his neck. Louis was patiently waiting for an answer. Maybe he was just curious. Maybe he was looking for an opening to offer a ride. “Was just going to take the tube.”

“You live in the city then?”

“Edge of it, actually. My employer—well, former employer now, I guess.” He glanced over at Louis as they approached the glass doors. He held one open for Louis since the latter had more luggage, exiting the building himself. “They’re in London but I’m not a fan of the noise. I go out with my mates and everything but I prefer doing it alone. I like my own music and telly and... it’s just different, you know? Like, sometimes—”

“Sometimes your kind of noise is better than the world’s?”

Louis could see the upwards twitch of his lips when he took a peek toward his left, Harry murmuring with a smile, “Exactly.”

Louis hummed, nodding his head silently. He didn’t want to change the subject—honestly, he wanted to know more about what Harry’s kind of noise was and if he’d ever want someone to share it with if even for a moment—but he wanted to get home to Clifford and Bruce and throw himself into sixteen hours of sleep. And spend more time with Harry. One on one. No mates to embarrass him or make jokes or hog the attention that he childishly had been craving more and more since the ice cream mishap. “I live outside of the city, if you want a ride. Save you some money.”

“S’alright. Pretty much pocket change, isn’t it?” Harry chuckled. “Don’t want you wasting gas on me anyhow.”

Louis scoffed but wasn’t allowed to retort yet, interrupted by the rushed barrage of young men calling out goodbye s and see you later ’s and pulling both boys into tight, one armed hugs as they started piling in the cars that were pulled up. In no less than ten minutes were the two left alone while the vehicles rolled their way out, the only one left being Louis’. He marched his way over and took the keys from the valet, thanking them before immediately unlocking the car so he could open up the back. While he placed his luggage in the small trunk, he looked over to where Harry still stood, shifting on his feet here and there, clearly hesitating on whether or not he should join the singer. “Styles.” Harry’s head snapped back up from pointing at the ground. “Let me give you a ride. We go the same way, right? May as well take the offer.”

Harry’s front teeth bit into his bottom lip, and he tucked a loose strand behind his ear while he further contemplated accepting or not. He would be dumb not to, he knew that. Overthinking was an annoyingly strong trait of his and it proved even more so in this moment. Louis was being patient but Harry was getting impatient , and he really just wanted to go home.

He nodded, taking slow but more sure steps closer to him. “Alright.”

“Good.” Louis smiled, waiting for Harry to put his stuff down in the back before shutting the top and rounding to the driver’s seat.

Harry got into the passenger just as the engine roared to life, buckling his seatbelt immediately because he had no idea what kind of driver his new companion was (he was also just very cautious whereas it appeared Louis rejected his line of protection). He didn’t say anything about it until twenty minutes into the hour and a forty-five minute drive.  “Are you not going to put your belt on?”

“I don’t really wear belts. Find them a bit pointless if my pants always stay put.” Louis quipped back naturally, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

“You know what I meant.”

The laugh Harry got in return was teasing and gleeful and he decided then that he wanted to listen to that much more than the radio for the rest of the drive. “Same goes for seatbelts. They’re restricting.”

“They keep you safe.”

“I keep myself safe, actually. Not that bad of a driver as you can see.”

Louis could hear Harry shift around and glanced to his right, finding the newest team member had positioned himself to face him, head tilted onto the headrest. “Are you always this impossible?” Tone so light and playful Louis could see the smile without having to risk another look in the man’s direction.

“Yes.” He paused, cocking his head to one side then the next. “Though less so with the right company.”

“And what would you put me under?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said with the right company. You’ve been pretty insufferable in my opinion, so I’m wondering if I’d qualify as the right company or not.”

The car slowed down to a break as they reached a stoplight, the red bright as day against the black of its shield and the fading dull of the sky transitioning from dusk to yellow and orange as the sun was leaving its hiding place. Louis looked over fully, taking in the sight of Harry still having his body turned towards him, left leg rested underneath the other and his hands tucked into his lap, eyes wide and curious like a child engaging in conversation with one of the heroes or princesses at Disneyland. Their gazes pulled each other in like moths to a flame, blue embracing green and vice versa, the comfort of a former stranger swimming around the closed space surrounding them. “You do.” He stated gently, a smile just as soft upon his face.

A horn sounded from behind them. Louis jumped out of the trance and faced the road again, pressing down on the gas while he regained enough composure to roll down his window and flip off the person behind them. Surely the light wasn’t green for that long, and he wasn’t going to deal with any fraction of impatience or road rage this early in the unusual quiet of the morning. “Wanker.” He muttered, huffing out to emphasize the insult.

“Wankers are such mood killers, aren’t they?” Harry questioned lightly, the scoffed out laugh from his left causing him to giggle, moving around in the seat until he was facing frontwards once again, one knee propped up and his hands wrapped around his shin. 

That’s when Louis decided that he’d rather hear the bubbly sound over than anything else for the next two weeks.

—

“Harold—”

“It’s just Harry. I’ve told you that a dozen times.”

“ Harold .” Harry just sighed but let him continue. “We’re twenty minutes away from your place. ‘M sure you can wait for water.”

Harry huffed, crossing his arms and making a point not to look at Louis but instead continued to eye the convenience store a little more ways up the road. “I ran out.” He’d been bothering for what he described as the liquid counterpart of designer clothes for the past five minutes, frowning only slightly but enough to make Louis roll his eyes because they were less than half an hour away from Harry’s home, and for some reason he just absolutely had to buy some before they reached their destination.

“Tap water, Harry. Just drink tap water. You’ll survive one day without that fancy stuff.”

“It’s Fiji water, Louis. It’s got that pretty flower on the bottle and everything.”

Louis realized at that moment, Harry Styles was simply bored. Stalling for time, making up silly excuses like without a doubt needing to stop in order to make a purchase he easily could’ve made the next day. It seemed that he wouldn’t budge, though, when Louis brought it up. He slouched down to sulk even more when this new stoplight turned into the color of the brightest green marker in the box and the driver kept going, not bothering to humor or indulge him in the task of distraction.

“You’re mean.” Harry stated after they rounded a corner six minutes later.

“I— what ?” Louis looked at him incredulously for as long as he could (which wasn’t much since he was the one behind the wheel). “Are you always this much of a child or is this some sort of payback for the concert?”

“Dunno.” Harry shrugged, “I’m a little less mature when I’m home if that’s what you mean. Though it depends on the company.”

Louis ignored the obvious means to mock him, removing a hand off the wheel to reach over and pinch the younger man’s arm. Harry complained and batted his hand away, no longer able to hold down the frown or pout when he heard the laughter again. That sweet, sweet sound that coupled all too well with the clear childish spirit the man beside him had. And then he spoke again, less (but still a little) playful and more sincere, maybe even a little hopeful if Harry was letting a small piece of his own hope get the better of his hearing. “You could come to mine if you really need your flower water . My mates dog-sit when I’m away and they always buy this huge pack of ‘em.”

Harry hummed, weighing his two options. They were already in front of his building by now, and it didn’t make sense to make the invite when he was technically already home. But he wouldn’t be seeing anyone until tomorrow, anyway, because he’d wanted to rest up before seeing his family and making plans to go out with his best friends (he’d definitely had his fill of a night out after the events of Mexico City). And he was sure now that he heard the emboldened lilt in his voice—a modest but noticeable change in the way he said it that told Harry he wanted to spend time together. Well, hang out. Hang out with him. Because ‘spend time together’ made it sound more intimate in Harry’s mind, and the two of them had just gotten to a friendship level. Or what he hoped was a friendship.

This could easily be a ruse because multiple people apparently told Louis off for the flippant way he behaved in Mexico, so the singer felt obligated to be nice in order to keep it all civil and not make it an awkward or hard environment for everyone to work in.

He went against his poor judgment. “Okay.”

“Really?” Louis raised his brows, a grin set in place. “Even with how insufferable I’ve been?”

Harry merely lifted his shoulders, “I can handle another couple of hours. I do want to bring my things inside though. You know, since we’re already here.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Go ahead.” Louis gestured a nod towards the back of the car, unlocking the trunk from the switch just beneath his seat. Harry stepped out of the car in seconds, a little more eager in not exactly going home yet now that the opportunity to have the one on one time he’d found himself wanting more of after the hours in the sky—the hours he wasn’t asleep, that is—with the music artist.

It was a speedy process of fishing his keys out of a side pocket, entering his home across the street, and tossing the bag onto the sofa in the living room. Even though his cat was currently staying with Johanna while he was working, he checked on the small sections of the house dedicated to his pet (food and treats in the pantry, one bed upstairs and another set beside the fireplace, a jungle gym of a tree platform in the corner next to the bay window, and he had to buy the cute treasure chest to hold all of the toys he still had to clean up) before heading back out, securing both locks. Louis had his forehead resting against the steering wheel, fingers drumming a silent beat as they curved around it. Harry bent down to look at him curiously and a bit concerned when the man picked up his head at the sound of the door opening. “Are you tired? Because we can—”

“No.” The response was too quick. It cut off half of the sentence and Louis tried oh so very hard not to physically cringe at how needy he sounded without even trying or meaning to. He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes flickering away from the upwards twitch at the corner of Harry’s lips and the raised eyebrow. He knew, didn’t he? “No, it’s fine. I was just trying to remember if I’d left a mess or not. Now,” he cleared his throat, pulling up his own address on the GPS built into the screen dashboard, “please get in, Harold. I have dogs to get to.”

Harry eyed him for a moment before shrugging, stepping in all the way and shutting the door as he got settled back into the left seat. Louis had kept the engine running since there was no point in messing with the battery by shutting the car down for just a few minutes, so once Harry buckled himself back in, he slowed out of the parking space and took off. The distance from their two homes would take them another half hour, in which Louis debriefed him on the habits of his dogs with strangers; Cliff jumping on everyone with good energy and Bruce shying away from new people. He marveled over the creatures as if they were just few-months old puppies he’d just gotten from the shelter rather than ones he’d had for a few years. It was obvious he had a favorite (though he was adamant he didn’t. Although, really, everyone had a favorite child, whether they have fur or not). Harry found himself completely gone for the man—though he would never voice it—hearing the adoration and joy radiating off of him just from talking about the four legged companions. They clearly meant a lot to him and, call him out if it was silly, but having not been sure if he could call Louis a friend yet or not, this seemed to be confirmation that they were.

—

Okay, maybe Louis was attracted to Harry.

As he watched the way Bruce did the opposite of his normal behavior with strangers and attach himself to Harry, watched as no variation of being impressed or in awe cross his features when he gave a tour of his home that was humble for celebrities and lavish for non-fame riders (except for the arcade games and Spider-Man statue and other nerdy things in the basement), he had to admit it to himself. There was the very fair assumption that Harry Styles had seen it all with how much travel he’d done and how many shows he worked for big names over however long he’d worked for that company. Probably met people far more engaging and polite and welcoming and, well, attractive, than Louis. Even now, when it was just the two of them on the sofa as a pair of canines lay in their beds by a small fire while two frozen pizzas baked in the oven and they shared small tidbits of childhood stories. Even now, he felt inadequate thinking about all the different personalities and memories Harry experienced before Louis came into his life, and he deemed himself a fool. Because he’d never really grown so fond of someone so quickly and this much before. It was weird. A little scary, as well. His heart had walls on top of walls and no matter what he’d chemically or mentally felt towards this man sitting beside him watching the show they’d put on, it would be tough to admit anything more than allure.

“I can’t believe you actually watch this rubbish.” He gestured towards the latest episode of Love Island . Harry had complained about having to miss the last one because of the obvious and though Louis was not a fan of trashy reality television, he offered to put it on with one of the three streaming services he paid for.

Harry hummed, getting up the same time as Louis when the oven’s beeps echoed towards the living area. “I seem to recall someone already having it as a recommendation.” He chided, eyes scanning along the long countertop before landing on an oven mitt resting besides the microwave.

Louis opened the fridge to grab a liter of ginger ale from the back while Harry removed the pies, the gradually decreasing heat turning up the temperature of the kitchen as the orange glow of the heating cylinders pulsed in a slow rhythm. He opened up the cabinet next to the refrigerator, finding the cups he needed on the top shelf and huffing quietly when his fingertips only aided in pushing back the glasses. He felt a gentle hand on his lower back and froze as Harry extended an arm, his own hand reaching and passing down one cup at a time. “Thanks.” Louis murmured, warmth finding a resting place amongst the apples of his cheeks enough for him to know he had to keep his head ducked down as he poured. He returned to the topic at hand to distract himself, “It’s only recommended because I watch a few reality shows. Though the ones I’ve seen are superior to... that .” He finished, emphasizing his distaste within the word by adding an overly dramatized grimace.

“I’m sure they are.” Harry’s laugh was capricious and filled the room. The entire first floor, really. And Louis was sure he’d have been able to hear it from the farthest room up on the second one. He handled the cutter Louis passed him with ease as he slid it through each pizza, cutting them both into perfect slices. “You need to show me one next time.”

Next time.

“Yeah.. next time.” Louis smiled to himself as he grabbed two plates from a different cabinet, not exactly heeding Harry’s warning of the food still being too hot as he gingerly grabbed two, dropping them almost immediately as he grimaced. “Shit.”

Harry sighed, bemusement written all over his face. “I just told you to be careful.”

“It’s my kitchen, innit? Figured I’m capable of picking up a few doughy triangles.”

“God, you really are insufferable.” The taller brunette mumbled. He took the plates off of the surface and practically skipped his way back towards the living room, where two heads of curly fur snapped up at the scent as the dogs found themselves sitting up in anticipation of a possible treat. Louis could only roll his eyes in response, following along after picking up the glasses that were already starting to chillingly fog up with condensation from the ice cubes that were placed inside.

He liked how comfortable it was, being alone with Harry.

The way they moved around in such close orbit of one another despite having so much space around them didn’t go unnoticed by his subconscious. When one shifted in their seat so would the other. When they finished eating they both got up rather than letting it be simple with just one person doing so. When Harry eventually moved to the floor in order to properly sit with Bruce who pawed at his knee for attention, Louis had adjusted his position to lay down, one arm resting against his stomach and the other with a hand that was itching to reach out, to see if his hair was as soft as it looked. And it was an accident, really. He didn’t mean to actually do it or even allow himself to let his hands be so close. It wasn’t appropriate no matter how he let himself feel. In the same moment of a couple of strands suddenly being coiled around Louis’ fingers, you could practically hear the sound of their breaths hitching.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck.”

Louis sat up immediately, pressing the heel of his palms to his eyelids as he moved until he was the furthest he could possibly be while not removing himself from the couch. God, was he stupid. Sure he wasn’t thinking straight but he could’ve at least let himself see how weird it was. How intimate the small gesture actually was. And here he was doing it with someone he’d known for barely a week. Less than one fucking week. He kept his eyes closed as he set his feet back on the ground, resting elbows atop knees and leaning forward with his head in his hands to avoid looking at him, shaking it when Harry called out to him.

“ Louis . It’s not a big deal.”

“You might as well have been a bloody statue.”

“It was just unexpected.” Harry got onto his knees and crawled to the corner Louis placed himself in. The latter lifted his head, looking unimpressed at best. “I’m serious. It actually felt… it was nice? And I wouldn’t mind if you, um, wanted to.”

The blush that bloomed across Harry’s cheeks was evident given his lighter complexion. They stared at each other for too long of a minute, chests tight with a mutual feeling that wouldn’t be spoken, ocean pushing its waves against the edge of the forest as ever so leisurely, the singer raised a slow hand, tangling his extremities into the smooth, growing curls of the security guard. Harry’s eyes closed almost forthwith, a low hum matching the gentle smile curling his lips. The tint of red was back on the musician’s face, expression softening when Harry adapted, shifting until his back rested against the space between Louis’ legs and bringing his knees up so he could rest his chin on them. Neither said another word. They continued watching whatever ended up playing after Love Island , no one bothering to change it or comment.

And alright, maybe he kind of did want to date the Pepsi security.

Chapter Text

Harry felt he had more than a right to be as nervous as he was after being asked to hang out again so soon. Granted, it was as a group and he was told to bring people if he wanted, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that Louis fucking Tomlinson wanted to see him again. At a pub of all places. Which meant there was going to be alcohol. And Harry could not fathom allowing himself to drink even half a pint or a tumbler glass or shot of anything at all while in the presence of new friends, his current friends that loved to embarrass him or play wingman, and the man he not really but definitely sort of had a crush on. A crush as a teenager was a bit cringe to think about but a crush as a whole adult? It was juvenile and sounded kind of odd when he’d said it out loud to himself and it spiked up his nerves as he searched for an outfit. Because Harry—amongst the addition of mates and the general public—was going out with a famous musician. It might as well have been a date with how absolutely wrecked he was over how to style his hair and which shirt fit the aesthetic of a bar the most but also wasn’t as loud as what he packed for his last work trip. He adored the vibrant colors and endless array of patterns but there were times where he wanted simple solids, boots not covered in glitter, and the only accessories being his cross necklace with a few rings.

“Harry, you’re driving me crazy.”

“You’re always welcome to walk.” He retorted without turning away, sliding hanger after hanger of loose fitted shirts on the left side of his closet.

Johanna rolled her eyes and threw herself back onto the mattress, not even bothering to try and fix up her hair. She’d been sitting up in Harry’s room for a good half hour watching her friend rummage through drawers and hung clothing, even shoes because everything had to compliment each other, all for a get together with people he barely knew yet. “I’m pretty sure he already thinks you’re hot. You know, with how he invited you over as soon as you were in the car with him. His car. Which you took back to his place together. The place in which you were alone. Just the two of you. No distractions.”

“ Christ, Jo— I get it.” Harry huffed, snapping his head to the side so he could narrow his eyes properly before returning to scraping through everything he had. He was not this manic in sense of dress on a daily basis. His obsessive need to let his clothes do the talking from head to toe was saved for special occasions and apparently, according to not his brain but his heart, this meet was deemed worthy of that need. Though it was going to be a casual setup with up and coming, independent artists of any sort making a small name on the makeshift stage, craft beer and a few simple cocktails, and sometimes questionable company depending on the day, he was excited.

He knew where they were going very well. It was a hole in the wall at the very edge of downtown, built brick by brick with dull reds and reddish-browns, the outside bare save for a black sign reading wonderland bar and one matching sconce on each side of the front door. The interior was a bit vintage with faerie lights lining the edges of the walls, vines hanging around the entire back right corner of the space where any performers would be with bricked half walls separating the stage from the rest, varnished wooden finishes for the tables and bar top, wood and metal chairs, a giant television taking up the empty right wall, vinyls and a couple of guitars hung up on the walls, and a record player just for show unless it was a quiet night. Harry wasn’t entirely sure how Louis would have come about the place. Everyone who found solace in the small establishment carried the same attitude of feeling their most relaxed in the ambience created by the soft glow of string lights and hum of instruments drumming through the floorboards and underneath patrons’ feet. It wasn’t very popular or spoken of as if it was this exclusive underground scene that required a password for entrance. It was a hidden gem which was discovered by word of mouth or in depth exploration amongst the scarcely populated sections of the city. The only reason Harry knew was because his friend Shawn had become the manager after landing a job there a couple of years ago, and he’s been there rather frequently so they can chat and hang out.

“Okay.” He wrestled out after ten more minutes, hands on his hips as he assessed the outfit now splayed out perfectly on the empty leftover space on his bed.

It was a black, solid tee shirt and black Chelsea boots put together with a pair of straight leg jeans that became prideful to wear when he was feeling more artsy than usual. Lightwash with a threaded rip at each knee and pastel paint smears scattered around the legs. He’d worn them when helping redecorate his niece’s nursery into a bedroom fit for an age ranging from newborn to toddler and accidentally got a print of lilac on his bum from being too close to the wall, a lick of baby pink on his shin from holding a wet brush against his leg when contemplating the design he was doing. He remembered knowing he’d be too tired once he was home to put them in the wash and they’d be forgotten for months in the bin, and he kind of liked how the colors looked on the light blue denim. So he skillfully added more smears around his legs in the fashion of making them seem like more accidents, and the jeans had been considered a little project since then. The contrast between his bottoms and the solid black of the rest of his outfit would surely stand out enough to capture Louis’ interest and raise his self confidence a bit more if it did.

“You can leave now. I have to change.”

“Finally.” Jo sat back up, watching the line of concentration fade from in between his brows as she rolled her eyes with a smile, standing from the mattress. “He’ll love it.”

Harry looked up at her then, eyes big and hopeful, “You think?”

“Yes. I think he will fall head over heels the second he finds out you smeared paint on your jeans on purpose after doing it by accident.”

The wide green narrowed into slits as he huffed and turned away from his friend, straightening his arm behind him and pointing his index finger at the open door. “Get out.” He murmured, only moving to close the door after her laughter made its way down the stairs. He swiveled back to the clothes laid out, scanning over them like he was trying to find more flaws in order to change something. 

—

“You didn’t need the bandana, H.”

Harry scoffed as he held the door for his friend, indie music flowing out as soon as even an inch of the threshold was open. “I did. It completes the whole thing.”

The atmosphere did wonders for the nerves hiding beneath the easygoing conversation and excitable anticipation, his eyes already flickering around the room in search of the older man. The crowd was a bit more than usual, even for a Saturday night, and he found himself anxious at the thought of people knowing a celebrity was here and beginning to trickle their way into the bar venue to meet or catch a glimpse long enough for photos. He’d been in his line of work long enough and common sense knew how fame worked. While Shawn took every precaution in making sure that even if a big name showed up to his place of business, they would be hidden from the public and able to enjoy themselves without anyone but the current patrons surrounding them, the risk was always there. Someone at some point would take a picture or selfie and post it online, a lack or fill of followers never mattering if a high brow, world renowned figure was seen out and about.

“Harry, hey!” His attention snapped over to the bar, where a pretty brunette with just as pretty brown eyes waved him over with a grin on his face. A sigh released through his nose as a smile graced his features and he made his way over as the young man leaned on the surface, arms folded over one another. Jo made sure to greet their mutual friend before she spotted someone she knew and made her own path to them to say hello, her hand encouragingly patting Harry’s shoulder as she flitted off. “Looking for your boy?”

His cheeks heated up immediately—his friends had been referencing Louis as such since he told them about waking up with a blanket over him and the events at Louis’ house the other day. He stopped trying to correct them after the fifth attempt had failed. “He’s not here yet, I take it.”

“No.” Shawn chuckled, gaze swiping across the enclosed space. “Michelle is here though. Not exactly your boy ,” Harry laughed with him and shook his head, “but apparently they know each other.”

And, okay, not to say that Harry didn’t have love for the people in his circle or didn’t have interest in their lives, but his had piqued. “Really? How?”

“They met through her roommate, Ashlei. It’s been a couple of years now.”

“How do you even know all of this?” Shawn gave him a knowing look, left eyebrow arched in amusement as the realization clicked into place and onto Harry’s expression. He kept his voice low, then, to avoid prying ears. “Ohmygod, I nearly forgot. How is Niall? Still can’t believe you’ve been dating a famous musician for a year now, by the way. You haven’t brought him up recently.”

He shrugged, “Nothing to bring up. But it isn’t really that different from a normal relationship, minus the obvious. And the secrecy actually helps keep this place on its hidden gem notion, so it isn’t much of a bother for me.” He eyed Harry carefully as he explained, watching the way his eyebrows scrunched together to form a crease in between and his lips form into a thin line of concentration, knowing what the thoughts swarming his mind were. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t hard, you know? Especially at first. But I think if you mean enough to each other to work through what comes with being with someone that known by the world, then you’re able to climb over all of those hills.”

The line in the middle of his brows deepened as he bit his lip, processing the words Shawn was helpfully putting out on display. He’d only just admitted to himself the night after being at his house that he had feelings for Louis, and no matter how small the hold was at the moment, Harry was an over-thinker. He was prone to conjuring up potential situations and conversations that may or may not happen, thinking up different reactions and how he’d approach each version. He’s already gone through several scenarios of what could go wrong and what problems they would have if he made a move and they did end up dating. “What if..” his lips rolled into his mouth as he went to reword himself, “did you ever hesitate on it? On the idea of being with him?”

“Of course. There are obviously a lot of factors and risks that come with dating a celebrity, especially when you’re just this average person—”

“You’re far beyond average, Shawnie.”

The short haired brunette gave his English friend a small smile in thanks, eyes flickering towards the door when he felt the breeze ride through as he continued with his explanation, leaning closer so he could lower his voice more. “It took a few talks before Niall could fully reassure me about the distance and having to stay lowkey, and I could reassure him about being there to support his career regardless. It’s the hardest relationship I’ve been in, H, but it’s also the happiest and most rewarding.” Deep brown met curious green as he placed an assuring hand atop Harry’s, “You can let your feelings be what they are. Let them grow and see where it all goes. You’ve been on the other side before, and that photo from Mexico got you some new buzz. You know how it can be even if just briefly, you’d be able to handle it. He likes you, too, by the way.”

Harry flushed but snorted softly, leaning away as he rolled his eyes and arched his back in a stretch, everything said to him making a home in its own file cabinet within the back of his mind except for that last tidbit. “And how’d you figure that?”

“Well, I could start with the fact that he walked in two minutes ago and has been staring me down since.”

“What…?” Harry turned in his seat at the nodded nudge, finding piercing blue eyes already staring back at him before they widened and looked away. He could have sworn he saw a rosiness begin to bloom on the man’s golden skin as he hurried off to a free spot near the stage. Harry chuckled despite the newfound bundle of nerves clawing their way back up to the surface, getting up and tapping the bar top in a goodbye, making a beeline for the table now taken up by a more than familiar group. Everyone was more than happy to not only greet him as if it’d been days since the last time and they’d all known each other for much longer, but to leave the two to their own devices while they found other people to speak to, other things to do.

Louis glanced up at the presence, face betraying him as he was likely reeling from being caught staring before. “Hey, uh..” He shuffled in his seat before clearing his throat, sitting up straight, looking up at him full on with a small smile. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi, Louis.” He mocked, upturned twitch stretching as he watched the way the singer looked over his outfit, from the light purple bandana keeping the few curls from falling over his forehead to the painted fabric that his gaze seemed to stick onto. “You like them?”

“Huh?” Louis’ eyes snapped back up, red apparent in the high of his cheeks at the inquisitive look being given. “Oh. Yeah. They’re really cool. Did you paint them?”

“I did.” He preened just a little, the usual pride in the piece of clothing doubling at what sounded like genuineness. He raised a hand from where it hung by his to gesture towards the now empty seat beside him. “Is it okay if I sit?”

“Yeah, o’course. Go ahead.” Louis nodded, waiting until the security guard was inches away and pushing down any embarrassment, propping his chin in his hand once his elbow was resting on the polished surface. “So, um, was that your boyfriend? Oh wait—are you even into guys? I’m so sorry if you aren’t, and I’d just assumed.” He asked before the courage was lost, left hand fiddling with the bottom hem of his shirt in apprehension of the answer and reaction to what he very much hoped was not too rude of an assumption to make about someone. Just because he was out and proud about his own sexuality didn’t mean he could spout whatever his alleged gaydar was yelling at him.

Harry’s brows raised preceding the moment at the front of the pub reeling its way to the forefront. “I am very much gay, ‘salright.” His bottom lip sucked back underneath his teeth as he bit his lip to hold back from laughing, corners twitching and Louis’ anxious eyes tracking the movement. The fretfulness of meeting up with Louis following two days ago was fading into a balancing act of certainty and flirting strain while he watched the usually confident man stumble over his words and worry about having made a grave mistake, the relief flooding out through a deep breath. “We’re just mates, since you were wondering. Was just giving me advice on something.”

“On what? If you don’t mind.” Louis rushed out, always quick to reassure no one had to share anything.

Harry didn’t get a chance to reply before all the seats were reclaimed by their occupants, a hand clapping itself on the back of his shoulder, the lights dimming and people beginning to howl scattered cheers as a girl took to the stool set up in front of them. He didn’t want to speak over anyone so he shot Louis a big smile, his right hand going to still the fidgeting that was wrinkling his shirt when he saw how much his fingers were curling around the fabric. Louis couldn’t look away then, even when his own friend was now sat on the stage and introducing herself for any newcomers and grabbing all of Harry’s direct attention while he kept his larger hand rested on Louis’. The older man blinked slowly, regaining just enough composure to give due diligence to the young woman sat before them.

When the girl started playing, raspy voice carrying through the quiet and threading perfectly through the seams of the chords she strung without strife, he couldn’t look away from her either. Harry felt a squeeze thirty seconds into the song and glanced to his left, finding not a blushing or baffled man but someone transfixed on what was happening in front of them. The faerie lights and darkness behind them worked a team of wonders in emphasizing just how golden his skin was, dots of a dirty orange shade reflecting in the cerulean ocean of his eyes and illuminating the wonder he seemed to be experiencing listening to this person sing their heart out. And he could understand it, he thinks. The beauty of watching another work through a passion so fervently it created its own special tune in between lyrics and melodies; a showcase of not just a hobby but something that gave them purpose. He understood all too well how easy it was to get caught up in someone else’s reason for being. In the way their gaze widened in wonder, pupils dilated in ecstasy doing the thing they love most, irises twinkling not only because of the bright bulbs pointed at them but of pure bliss and absolute happiness.

The smile growing with each second on Louis’ features as he watched the short performance was so captivating it became Harry’s turn to slowly but surely force himself to face a new direction, keeping hold on the sweatered hand that hadn’t moved even a centimeter aside from gently tightening its grip on his own. His main viewpoint and hearing may have been on the ones sharing what they chose to share with others but his peripheral caught every twitch, every visible change in emotion, every tilt of the head at certain lines, every mouthed word of covers that turned into original songs. It was such a brilliance of difference between seeing him on stage in front of hundreds or thousands and seeing him embrace another person as they did what he got to do for a living. An essence of pride that wrapped around him so much that by the time the set was over he’d only let go of Harry’s hand to stand and clap, hands cupping his mouth as he made what sounded like the loudest cheer he’d ever heard in his life. Harry was quick to join in the motion once it passed that the girl was standing now, trying her best to inch off of the platform during the bout of attention.

When she stepped off and the building’s lighting was kicked back on, he shuffled through the small crowd around him to wrap her in the warmest hug he could muster up as she was putting away her guitar. She squealed out of surprise, whirling around after he let go in order to see him properly, eyes immediately enlarging with a grin to match as she latched onto him. “Harry!” She leaned back to look up at him, “What are you doing here? I thought you were going out to another city before coming back.”

“Just got back actually. Sorry for not calling, but you also failed to tell me you had a gig tonight. Figure we’re even now.” He chuckled, never able to fake any sentiment of anger towards the younger of the two.

She scoffed but nodded anyway. He watched as her gaze flickered behind him before her eyes lit up once again, the smile more prominent and telling him to definitely give her a hard time about seeming more excited about whoever was behind him. Though when he looked over his shoulder, surprise flashed across both faces as green came in contact with blue again, Louis dropping his the second olive toned arms wrapped around his middle so tight it made him stumble. Harry kept an eye on the duo; the way Louis’ heedfulness was now on the short young woman in front of him as he hugged her back just as tight, that same pride from watching her play morphing into a rope of gold that wound its way around them and seeped into his beaming simper and oceanic rings as he leaned back looked down at her. “You were glowing up there, love. ‘Nother step closer to sharing the stage with me someday.”

“Fuck off, Tomlinson.” She grumbled, though the delighted cast on her face said more than a bite of sarcasm ever could. “Happy you’re here, by the way. Ash couldn’t get out of work so it’s been a bit nerve racking.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but right supporting you, you little shit.” Louis laughed so brightly and fondly while he ruffled her hair and she slapped his hand away that it sucked air right out of Harry’s chest without him having to take a breath. The ocean met with the edge of the forest once more and he playfully shoved Michelle, gesturing to the tallest being in the current trio. “When were you gonna tell me you knew my new security guard?”

“I...” Her dark eyes traveled back to Harry, glancing between them and letting the connection place itself rather quickly. “Holy shit, you’re that Harry. I heard about a cute security dude named Harry but there are a million people with the same first name.” She huffed, shoving her hands in the pocket of her hoodie as she shook her head. “Guess that’s what I get for not really being on social media. I—”

“Michelle! Come over here.” Her attention was taken away as Isaac sidled up beside Harry, saying another quick hello to his friends and bandmate. “Sorry lads, ‘ve gotta steal the talent away for a bit.”

“Steal away, mate. ‘M sure she won’t mind.” Louis chided, sending a teasing smirk said talent’s way, giggling when she was tugged away, barely able to tell the pair she’d talk to both of them later while at least managing a glare in his direction. He cast a panoramic glance across the room and settled it on the bar. He cocked his head towards the front door as he looked at Harry, “Want a drink?”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. Yes, please.” The tall brunette sighed, the strike of figuring out just how small the world was hitting him with a boat of confusion (and a small dingy of feeling blessed that he had friends that were not only mutuals of he and Louis but were just as close as they were to himself). He followed and took in the man’s outfit as he did, taking note of the dark skinny jeans and cherry red jumper that did nothing short of somehow accentuating how small his waist was as it gave no traces of him even having one with the way the oversized material enveloped him. He looked absolutely radiant in the color red.

Louis was already asking Shawn for a vodka RedBull when he reached the counter. He didn’t bother ordering anything specific because he’d asked for the same often enough for it to be counted as his usual, but sent a grateful smile towards his friend anyway. “How do you know Michelle? You seem really close.” He queried once they were hoisted up on the barstools, tucking his head on top of the arms he now had folded over one another.

“I don’t want to talk about that yet.” Louis waved a hand dismissively. He swiveled the chair so he was facing Harry completely, left forearm keeping him upright as he used it to incline himself against the bar top. “You never got to answer my question. And I feel like the answer was going to be interesting.”

“What question?” Harry grinned when Shawn came back with their drinks, handing him the strawberry daiquiri, thanking him cheerfully as the manager moved away to tend to more people. He sat up to rest only his elbows on the surface and lifted the cold glass to his lips, vibrant flavoring and addition of a few strawberries tinging the center of his upper lip with red.

“Well..” Louis had to recollect himself when the side eye he was given had him locked down speechless, eyes tracking as Harry’s tongue slid across his bottom lip. He blinked once, twice, maybe three rapid times, before readjusting his line of vision. “When I asked about the advice he gave you? Seemed like you were just dying to tell me what it was.”

“Think you’re confusing us, love.”

Louis ignored the endearment, putting it off as a generalization so he wouldn’t think too much of it, shrugging. “Tell me anyway. Come on. Tell me.” He prodded, drifting closer as he poked Harry’s arm, then the dimple that appeared when the one with the curls let out a breathy chuckle, feeling hilarity at the adolescent moment. 

“Okay. Okay!” He caved after the way Louis aimed for the center of his face, booping his nose. The man shifted back into his original position, satisfied, and waited patiently. Harry rolled his eyes, smile never losing its brightness or amusement. He took another sip of his drink, scrunching his face when an ice cube hit the tip of his nose, which earned a giggle from the left that made his heart skip a beat. “It was about having feelings for someone. He was telling me to let myself have them, see where it goes...”

“Oh.” Louis was quiet for a second, water intensely bore into earth, though the waves felt like they were growing smaller. “You have your sights set on someone, then?”

“Uh, well.” Harry cleared his throat and folded his hands in his lap then, cocking his head to the side, flitting to every feature and counting each freckle he could see under the fluorescents before allowing a more relaxed smile to grace him. Louis refocused onto him, ostensibly observing the details of Harry’s face, as well, hope slightly diminished but still hanging onto the lifeboat. Harry’s brows creased, line forming in between as he chewed on his red stained lips when his gaze stopped on Louis’ own, switching back to the blue staring right at him.  “The someone is... is you.”

The rings of blue widened significantly. “ Oh .”

Chapter Text

Louis dated around. Or, he used to.

Not too much or with many people, but enough that the media caught wind of it and he was never able to leave a restaurant or walk down the street with someone who may or may not have been a suitor without ending up in some kind of article, or that person being found on social media. Not too much or with many people, but often enough with the same to know that he’d carried so much disinterest, there were never third or even second dates, if he’d even cared enough to call them as such. It wasn’t that the blokes weren’t ever attractive or necessarily bad people; they were just very much.. lacking. The absence of quality banter. A distaste not well hidden towards his eating habits (which, okay, could admittedly be better, but who gave anyone the right to belittle that just because they preferred kale salad with lemon wedges and some weird transparent dressing over fish and chips or a pile of spaghetti?). The obvious interest in exactly how much he made and wondering how extravagant his home was just to deflate when he said it leaned more towards a normal single family than anything (he definitely made sure that one saw the eye roll). There was one time where he’d spoken of his dogs as if they were actual children save for clear differences, and was taken aback by a speech about how wrong it was to treat them as such and he should just give them up to a place that would treat them as the dogs they were. That one ended so abruptly, Louis’ chair nearly toppled over when he scoffed and quickly stood from the table, calling the man a cheap PETA enthusiast and leaving the restaurant, but not before tacking on an extra hundred or so dollars to the bill he stuck the guy with by telling the host he asked for a new bottle of wine.

..Okay, so they were bad.

Given what he had was the missing piece of a nice or understanding person, it was more than a surprise when Harry confessed he’d taken advice about having feelings for him. And it wasn’t as if he thought this man was anything like the ones in the past—it’s been proven already that he definitely was not. But Louis had built up that these last days were more his imagination or him exaggerating and making himself believe the little spark warming in the center of his chest was reciprocated. He didn’t think it actually was but it was nice to create that scenario. That way, even if it was in his head, at least he knew he was deserving of a genuine person.

“Oh.”

Louis could barely focus on the way Harry’s cheeks turned the same shade as the drink leaving a puddle on the bar top. How he minutely chewed on his bottom, red stained lip as he looked away and cleared his throat, fingers grazing the condensation on the glass in front of him. He was too busy processing the information. The that someone is you that affected him more than should be admitted. The prominent nerves bundled into such few words somehow made it difficult for him to understand what was happening, unable to form a proper response.

“Is.. is that okay? That it’s you?”

“Um.” He blinked, the deep drawl sounded questionable and honestly a little shaken, and that alone was enough to show there was nervousness on the other end. Because really, why would someone who was confessing as a joke be visibly or verbally anxious in so few words? Unless you were a top notch actor, this couldn’t have been anything other than the truth. “Yes,” he replied, focusing his vision back so the details of Harry became clear again, a soft smile making its way into his face when he flicked his gaze back up to the wide one of anticipation. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Harry’s cheeks burned brighter, “Is it fair to assume you feel the same, then?”

Louis shrugged, leaning forward with a new brush of confidence now that he knew and didn’t just conjure it up as a fantasy. He playfully and slowly looked over Harry’s appearance, from his black Chelsea boots to his lavender bandana, tilting his head a little while he watched Harry silently ask his friend for another drink. “You’re alright, I suppose.”

Harry snorted and Louis giggled, immediately going to smother the sound behind his fist and attempt to hide it with a cough when the attention was brought back to him. He went to reach for the last bit of his drink before a hand gently caught his wrist, Harry’s gaze soft but burning. “Don’t do that; the cough thing. I like your laugh.”

The blush on his face stood out against the golden tone of his skin, and he rolled his eyes fondly at the sentiment. “Alright Styles, you’ve already got me confession. No need to shoot for more brownie points.”

“I—” A beat later he huffed out a short laugh and shook his head, taking a piece of strawberry out of the second glass of daiquiri and popping it in his mouth. “You really do live to be unbearable, don’t you?”

“For you? Always.” Louis winked, causing an eye roll that only made him giggle again.

“Oi, lovebirds! Come do some karaoke with us!”

In his peripheral, Louis saw Matt waving them over from the table, the entirety of their growing friend group sitting or standing as Oli, who was off the past few days and was able to meet up for tonight, got to setting up the machine and microphones on stage. He shook his head with a chuckle at the enthusiasm, looking at Harry who already seemed to want to join and was waiting for him to say whether or not he’d do so, as well. “What d’you reckon?”

Harry hummed, resting his chin on one fist as he surveyed the people he’s come to know and like very well, a giddiness hidden beneath his actions and tone of voice. His gaze dragged back over to his reciprocated crush, “Reckon we’ve got a bit of competition.”

“Well, that just won’t do.” Louis declared, dipping his head forward and shaking it in mock despair. He used a napkin to wipe up the ring made by his drink and stood from the barstool, dusting off whatever invisible coating found its way onto the front of his jeans as finally placed his hands on his hips, head cocked with a deep sigh exhaling into the air. “Guess we’ll have to put on a show.”

“Sounds like this will take a big toll on you, Lou.” Harry copied the faux exasperation and stood up himself, going against his better judgment to down the rest of the replacement drink he ordered before resting his hands on his knees and stand upright. He smiled down at Louis, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You might want to sit this one out.”

“Please,” the singer scoffed and flippantly pushed the larger hand away, ignoring just this once the warmth that spread through him at the use of a nickname and how easily it rolled off the tongue, “I can sing circles around them.”

||

Louis, not for lack of effort, did not sing circles around them.

He also definitely did not expect the night to go a way where he was so awestruck by Harry’s voice during You’re The One That I Want from Grease that he’d almost missed half of his lines, followed by a loss for actual words at how he didn’t even need to so much as glance at the screen when jumping straight into Summer Lovin. The simple fact of Harry knowing the film so well and apparently loving it just enough — and only just enough because no one would ever love that movie to the same intensity as Louis — to know the choreography as well. Not that it blew over well with the tiny stage and bare amount of free flooring between the platform and the tables and chairs. But he tried and it was endearing to watch the leggy man attempt the movements just to stumble the way a baby deer would when taking its first steps. He would carry on each time as though nothing happened, as if it was part of the performance, and look at Louis with such radiance and blooming pink cheeks that Louis couldn’t help but put in just as much enthusiasm and effort as his duet partner. He was never one for karaoke because while he loved being the type of artist he was, he sang all the time. At stadiums and events, in the shower, on the walks with Cliff, on his jogs around the park near his house, while he whipped something up in the kitchen and the surround sound of the speakers in his living area danced its way into the cookery and filled the otherwise emptiness, with Niall when they were able to meet up on the off chance they were both free at the same time, even in small recordings his mum would ask him to do for the twins to listen to at bedtime if for some reason he wasn’t able to fly home for Christmas. He sang all the time. And it got tiring sometimes, because it was his life for most of his years to cast out harmonious rasps and high notes that went on for at least five seconds and choruses that would have the crowd jumping around even if it’s a ballad and not at all a ‘get up and dance’ type of song.

But that moment there, with such a tight knit group of people and someone he could fully admit to having feelings for as well as enjoying him as a person moving around and belting words in a range of purposely horrible to raw talent, had made his distaste for the activity well worth it. He reveled in it even three hours later, when some people were tipsy, a few were outright drunk, and only a couple of them were completely sober. Or at least sober enough to drive themselves and/or others back home. It was near two in the morning, last call had just ended, and everyone was filing out like they were heading out of school at the end of the day to sit at the edge of the sidewalk and lean on walls to wait for their parents. He was one of the sober-enough-to-drive patrons waiting for a tipsy Oli to finish his conversation, and Harry certainly was not as he was sat on the ground against the brick of the establishment, head leaned back and uncontrollable giggles splaying out of his pink and red lips at whatever joke a tipsy Isaac had muttered to him. It was cute and also a little concerning but when brought up to the man’s friend, Johanna, who was one of the completely sober ones, she said they’d take care of him and not to worry because it wasn’t as much as it seemed. Apparently he was just a lightweight. So, as much as he wanted to make sure the poor boy didn’t pass out right on the concrete, he figured Isaac, Johanna and Shawn had it handled.

Still, that didn’t stop him from calling out Louis’ name once the singer gave everyone a light goodbye before pulling out his keys to unlock his car, his voice airy and light and sounding a little bit like a child who wasn’t finished playing but was told to go to bed soon. Which he did need to do anyhow. “Louiiiis,” he’d stretched out, a large frown that slowly dissipated the closer Louis got to where he sat, eventually landing into a neutral line on his face despite the slightly puffed out cheeks.

When Louis bent down in front of the menace, legs squatted and elbows resting on his knees, he set his chin in one hand. He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling too much. “Harryyyy,” he mocked, the hold back failing once another giggle bubbled out.

It didn’t last long, though, because Harry’s dilated green eyes flickered towards the keys clenched in Louis’ left hand and the child-level sulk was back in focus. “Are you leaving?”

“I am.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

Louis stifled a laugh at the sight of a pout, “I said goodbye, H. ‘ve gotta head home now. Take care of Cliff and Bruce and all.”

Harry’s mouth was a fraction of agape, quiet but audible gasp breathed out into the air along with the scent of rum and strawberries, eyes wide in recognition of the names. “Your kids with the fur! Yes, you’ve got to.” He then frowned again and leaned in conspiratorially, motioning for Louis to lend an ear, which the older man gladly did because he had a feeling he knew what was going to be said. “Don’t tell Cliff but… Bruce is my favorite.”

“I’ll..” Louis choked on a laugh. “I’ll keep the secret, don’t worry.” He assured, reaching out to pat his knee. He stood up then, stretching out the ol’ limbs. “‘ve gotta get going, love. Sure your friends want to sleep as well.”

“Oh, wait! Wait.” Harry didn’t even process the last few words, he was sure, as he scrambled up with the help of Shawn who came out just in time to keep the man steady. Harry looked down at Louis with his hands on his hips, an expression of disappointment now etched across his features that made it Louis’ turn to frown. “You were going home without a proper goodbye.”

Louis quirked a brow, “Oh?”

“Yes.” Harry nodded. His gaze passed over every hazy detail of Louis’ face before huffing out in the style of a horse, lifting his hands to cup the musician’s jaw in both palms and leaning in without fair warning. It was only for a kiss on the cheek but if you’d asked Louis with his blushing self, he’d deny the crackling sparks he felt at the lips to skin contact, a tingling sensation leftover on the apple of the left side of his face. “There!” Harry exclaimed as he leaned back, still cradling while the pads of his thumbs stroked the space right underneath Louis’ eyes. “You can go home now.” He finished spritely.

“Right, right. Uh..” Louis fumbled, glancing around at the friends that were either not paying much mind or watching them with smug, fond or amused expressions. Harry was giddy and curious and a bit confused at the lack of response so — “You get home safe, alright?” He lifted his arm to rest a hand on Harry’s forearm and placed his own peck on the younger man’s face, lightly giggling at the now beaming smile before they let go of one another and he stepped back to send another round of goodbyes to everyone else.

||

Unknown

2:30 AM hiii is harreh. isa ac gave me ur numbre

3:04 AM m safe :)

There wasn’t even need to process who could have been texting him when he saw the unregistered number light up the screen of his cell just twenty minutes after he was home himself. He was sitting outside on one of the lawn chairs beside the pool while the dogs ran around the backyard with Oli and a hose — the pool having been covered up for the oncoming chilly season — when it went off. All he could do was grin softly. It was much too easy to imagine a drunk Harry asking the first member of the band he saw for Louis’ contact details (because while they spent time together they still hadn’t followed one another on social media or exchanged numbers), one of his friends having to type in the digits and Harry waiting with a frown until he was inside the condo.

He didn’t text back until everyone was situated, including his best mate who practically lived with Louis and was going to be staying over that night.

3:15 AM I’m glad, love.

Get some sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow x

3:17 AM aw okayy :(

gnight lou xx

“Oi! You done fonding over your boy over there? Need help wrangling in these mutts.” Oli called out, Louis’ gaze diverting its hold on the snippet of conversation to watch the comedic scene of the part-time resident of his home alternating between chasing the black and golden colored canines whilst soaked, one swerving away to continue playing when he would close in on the other, grass no doubt being clipped by their nails as their paws dug into the post-water snake, damp soil. They were definitely going to need baths and the floor would need to be wiped clean and he had never been more grateful for anything but carpet lining the floor of the house.

He rolled his blue blue eyes as he hoisted himself from the reclined seat, pocketing the phone in the sweats he’d changed into the second they got back. If he put it in the hoodie then the process of getting the dogs back in for their nightly food and occasional bath routine would prove to have it dropping in the muddied ground, and not for the first time, so he would like to avoid it this time around. Trudging his way across the yard, he whistled shortly and clapped twice in quick succession as he bent his back forward and kept his eye on the older of the pets. Clifford stopped in his tracks, ears flicking up in a twitch at the otherwise silent command while his head snapped up to the owner of the noise. When his dark eyes stuck to the cerulean of Louis’, he tilted his head and waited for a confirmation that came in the form of a repeat of the swift tune and Louis’ palms coming together for a beat or two. Bounding over with the same speed used to evade Oli, Cliff barely gave any time for Louis to dodge or hold him back before barreling into the being before him, wet paws already smearing dirt on the tee shirt and pants.

“Okay, alright. Get off, you big oaf.” He groaned, gently pushing the creature off of him.

He watched Clifford dart towards the bowls set at the edge of the kitchen, nails clacking against the wood and tiles soon accompanied by Bruce’s own padding once he realized his companion had gone to shelter. The labradoodles promptly chomped down the kibble set for them before heading straight to the beds set up by the fireplace for the days Louis decided to light it on especially cold nights. He knew then that it was pointless to attempt a bath until the morning.

Oli emerged from the back, wiping his hands down his clothes and shaking his head. “Last time I let myself race with ‘em.” He muttered, kicking the toes of his shoes on the metal grate underneath the sliding door so any stuck dirt clumps could fall out before he entered. He looked up at the singer who was already thrown against the cushions of the sofa — legs straightened with one arm on his stomach and the other hanging off the side — grinning despite the late hour. “Have a good night, Tommo?”

“…yes.” Louis grumbled, making eye contact just so he could shoot a tired glare when his friend chuckled. He set his head back against the plush arm of the couch and watched without any movement minus his stare as Oli rambled on about how great it was being out with everyone after not having been able to be in Mexico City, grabbing two water bottles from the bottom of the fridge and letting it swing itself shut after barely a touch. He placed one on the coffee table in front of where Louis was splayed and ruffled his fringe, earning a groan of disapproval and nothing else, a wave of exhaustion hitting the artist. “Just leave me here.”

“That was the plan, mate. Just makin’ sure you’ve got a drink handy.”

Louis did a tired imitation of his friend, muttering out some sort of goodnight message that he would not remember come the afternoon when he’d slept in for well over the world’s average of eight hours. He waited until the lights were off and thudded steps faded their way up the stairs to shut his eyes, floating thoughts of a curly haired man with radiant green eyes and deeply caved dimples and sunbeams in a smile and banter ready to run on for days ready to become the main focus of future dreams.

Chapter Text

It was a large bout of difference between consuming enough to black out and do what he will always refuse to speak on, versus now, when he’d only need three or four short glasses of the strawberry and rum concoctions from last night before he was giggly, bouncy, a bit clingy and a lot embarrassed by his actions come morning light.

He was usually very bright and energetic in the mornings. As one little Disney princess once declared, if the sky was awake then so was she, and the same applied to Harry. He liked sleepily watching the specs of dust float about the space lit up by the streams of sunlight through his curtains, the sound of the kettle whistling on the stove while he prepared himself a breakfast sandwich or did something simple like grab a croissant out of the bread box, watering the flower boxes and pineberry plant he kept on the balcony built off the second bedroom he’d converted into his own private library. He enjoyed the little things that came with rising in the early hours and going about a routine that consisted of leafy individuals he had small conversations with, lighting floral or fruity scented candles before leaving for the day, and (currently) grabbing his copy of My Policeman to read during any free moments. He’s already read the book several times over the past months but he was both enamored and struck in the heart by the story, and he could never go too long without picking it back up.

Now, however, he’d despised the sun and the singing birds perched upon the tree in the limited grassy space at the front of the house and the idea of going to see his sister at nine in the morning. She was his absolute best friend. They both relished in setting up their Sunday brunch dates after he’d started leaving so much for work, so when he was home and they knew they still wouldn’t see one another much during the week, they’d still have Sundays. He does admit to himself that he’d forgotten because being in the presence of such a person as last night was too consuming but hey, could anybody really blame him? It seemed the world truly did revolve around one person when he was around the singer, and at those moments in the bar he couldn’t really think of anything or anyone else.

The Black Penny was their destination this time, as they always tried meeting somewhere new for their joint agenda in discovering as many new restaurants as possible. It sat between a ramen shop and a flat, the entirety of the exterior a forest green minus the polished wood of the outdoor tables and black entry door, an awning keeping the seating very well shaded, and bushels of pink and white flowers lining the space between the top of the awning and windows of the flats above. The walls inside were built of faded, uneven brickwork with blackrimmed windows and a protruding fireplace, a light gray half-wall trim around the area that grew into a bookshelf on the other end and caved in rectangles at the corners that held stacks of books, gold vintage headlamps hanging above wooden tables and lightbulbs over the pickup area of the counter.

A golden bell from over his head alerted staff and customers of a new arrival when he opened the door to the establishment, barely glancing at the wall to his right with two tote bags and a continuously growing collection of polaroids and notes left by patrons to share small bits of their lives with whoever entered. He slowly removed the dark sunglasses from his face, holding back from actually hissing at the harshness of the fluorescents when he flinched at the change in saturation. The paracetamol he took before leaving had so far alleviated most of the headache, which was helpful with the disappearance of pounding in his ears, but it hadn’t quite dissipated any of the sensitivity to light. He blinked twice before deciding it was a terrible idea and looking around to find the ten-percent blinding figure of his older sister sitting in booth in a far off corner, trudging over and not so gently slumping himself into the seat across from her, immediately lowering his face into the space between his folded arms.

“Jesus, baby brother. You look kind of wrecked.”

He had no clue why he was expecting sympathy.

“Gee, thanks.” He grumbled, letting himself be succumbed into darkness for a few more seconds and brace for the lighting before lifting his head up. He rested his chin in one hand and tucked the other closer to the edge of the table, staring at his sibling through a half lidded gaze. “Did you order already?”

“Yes, dad.” She rolled her own pair of green eyes at him, amusement and fondness dancing across them. Harry hated when she’d wait for him to arrive, especially now that she was eating for two. He was more firm with her health during the pregnancy than she was and while it got to be overbearing at times, she understood it was more about missing out on being with her and his future niece the past two months than anything else. Always wanting to make sure she was taking care of herself while he was away. “Asked for the Lemon Ricotta French Toast and this mimosa for you, by the way.” She stopped fiddling with the hair over her shoulders to first gesture towards the orange drink next to her lemonade, then looked him over, “Though I think a change in order needs to be done.”

Harry blinked, narrowing his eyes at her, “Ha ha. Such a comedian.”

“Runs in the family.” She grinned while Harry stared at her in bemusement, eliciting a soft laugh out of his sister. “Now,” she shifted around the booth against the wall and propped her elbows on the table, a smile Harry absolutely despised resting against her cheeks, “tell me about Louis.”

“You’re going to avoid updating me on the baby until I tell you, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

He sighed, lightly rubbing at a bothersome eye with one hand while the other immediately went for the cell phone flipped upside down beside him. He had the confirmation texts between him and Gemma, messages from a couple of guys from the band saying how fun it was hanging out, and a text from Michelle about plans they got set to making the night before. Nothing from Louis. Not that he was expecting anything because the man wasn’t obligated to reach out so soon just because feelings were confirmed but, well, Harry was definitely a bit expectant. “He’s fine. Nothing to tell.” He managed to say in a steady voice, not at all nervous about the potential lack of texts even though it wasn’t even ten in the morning and he knew the man well enough to know he was not awake at this hour on a Sunday while he’s on holiday from a world tour. 

Gemma raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at her brother, “Stare at that phone any harder, you’ll burn a hole in it.”

“I’m not that bad. It’s just–” They were briefly interrupted by one of the servers bringing their meals over, both Styles siblings thanking the girl with winning smiles that made her face redden as she went off back to work. At the knowing and expectant look on Gemma’s face once the server was gone, he continued without complaint. But just this once. “We got off on such a wrong foot, and I’ve only known him a couple weeks, right? But I don’t think I’d change how we met because it was kind of nice getting to see he isn’t always a toddler–”

Gemma snorted and took a spoon of the oatmeal she’d asked for (much to Harry’s dismay because according to him she could’ve at least gotten a side dish). Harry cut a bite-sized piece off of the toast, scooping up some of the whipped lemon ricotta cheese and being very grateful for his taste in the odd combination or two when it came to his sense of dress and food. Unusual flavors were easily welcomed by his palette.

He spoke next in a voice muffled by the delicacy sitting in front of him, immediately cutting another piece in preparation. “I mean..” he swallowed, waving the fork in his hand, “He has a childish spirit, you know? He’s very sarcastic and sassy and loves a good laugh. He is really in love with his dogs and talks about them like they’re his children, which, honestly? Is very endearing. And he was practically glowing when our friend was up on stage at Shawn’s pub, cheered the loudest and everything. It was really sweet. And his eyes are like–”

“Okay, okay, I get it. He’s gorgeous and funny and caring and you are definitely in the puppy love stage.” Gemma laughed when Harry nearly choked on the bread being shoveled into his mouth, eyes wide and flush spreading to his ears. “Relax, H. It’s just an expression.”

“I know.” He grumbled, slinking back into the seat, knees knocking with his sister’s due to his long legs. “Doesn’t mean you can blurt it out like that.”

“You still have to update Mum, by the way. She’s been raving about how you now work for Rosie’s favorite singer.”

Harry didn’t comment about how he was actually his goddaughter’s favorite singer. He groaned, finally deciding to pick up the orange juice and champagne concoction that he’d been avoiding due to having woken up with a small hangover. He hoped the fact that it was a light beverage meant it wouldn’t bother him. “Please tell me you didn’t bring up the crush thing.”

“Might’ve implied it. Can’t really remember.” She shrugged, her silver spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl she was finishing off, avoiding his stare down even though her eyes were alight with mischief.

“Gemma.”

“Harry!” She mocked, an ever present grin on her face. “You’d have to admit it eventually. Mums have a way of knowing without even being told. Now stop moaning about so I can give you the latest baby news.”

She rolled her eyes at his crossed arms and the most exaggerated pout she’d ever seen him make before he sighed dramatically, gently kicking her in the shin. “Fine.”

||

It came in after one in the afternoon, when Harry was sitting on a burgundy metal bench surrounded by green grass, trees scattered and lining the sidewalks, flowers and families having picnics, couples holding hands or exchanging whispers. His fingers were fiddling with the settings on the Panasonic DSLR camera in his lap, scrolling through the scenery section so he could capture the natural vibrancy of the flora and intricate details of the large fountain in the center of the square. (He didn’t think he’d ever been happier to sit in the sun than he was at that moment, after his headache and light sensitivity had fully disappeared by the time he was halfway to the park.)

His phone buzzed, the vibration sliding across the bench some, and he huffed quietly at the idea of having to put his camera down and dissect his focus on getting it right before actually shooting anything. Though when he picked it up to tap the screen and see who had messaged him or what email was sent his way, a small grin overtook his fractional exasperation. He set the camera down beside him and clutched the smaller device in his hands, thumbs tapping where they needed to as he unlocked the phone and opened up his texts, a Hey Curly, how are you feeling? doing nothing to soothe any butterflies that may or may not have appeared upon seeing the other man’s name.

1:37 PM much better ty :)

His lips twisted in thought before he sent a follow up:

1:38 PM sorry if i’d made things a bit weird last night

He was sure of two things. One, that if things weren’t weird before, they probably would be now that he was apologizing for it. And two, if he sat there thinking about the fact that Louis likely just rolled out of bed at most a half hour before communicating with anyone, then he’d be stuck on this loveseat thinking of ruffled caramel-brown hair, wrinkled clothes and tired cerulean eyes. So he hoisted himself up after finalizing the adjustments he’d wanted on the circular lens built into his camera and trudged his way to the large stone fountain in the middle, practically asking for someone to walk up and capture its inanimate beauty in the middle of the intersecting, stone paths. There were light conversations being carried by the breeze by the time he reached his short destination, giggles riding in from yards away by children running around with dogs or away from their parents in a game of tag. The atmosphere was relaxing, albeit a bit of a jolt into the reality that he was almost 30 and had wanted a serious relationship by now. Not that he’s never been in one but the last was several years ago, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. Finding himself in this “crush” situation with Louis was as nerve racking as it was refreshing.

He didn’t receive another message until well after getting in some good shots at the fountain, sitting on the edge of the smoothed out texture, one leg folded over the other and camera held up to his eye as he zeroed in on a couple of Monarchs resting on a flower bed a few feet in front of him. Louis didn’t acknowledge the apology but instead asked if he was home. He took his time before replying, of course, because he was nervous about getting confirmation that he did make things weird and also wanted to get the best pictures of the butterflies. It wasn’t as important as a potential boyfriend, mind, but it helped him keep calm.

Harry was now sitting underneath one of the larger trees after going around half of the park, leaning against the large trunk and ignoring the itchy feeling the bark ignited along the back of his neck. His legs were outstretched and he had one ankle over the other as he thumbed through the photographs he’d taken so far, flinching at even the smallest blur and tutting when he wouldn’t like one he did enjoy in the moment. He didn’t notice much around him aside from the ice cream truck playing its jaunty tune next to the sidewalk behind him and gentle breeze rustling through the leaves overhead. 

“I didn’t know you were a photographer.”

A man too easy to scare at times, he might as well have skyrocketed off the grassy seat at the voice suddenly interrupting his little bubble. His grip on the camera tightened when it nearly toppled off of his lap, and he looked up to find a musician leaning against the trunk, his wrist holding back the laugh sputtering through his lips. Harry glared at him, “Glad you’re having a laugh.”

“Oh, I am.” Louis managed to get out. Harry rolled his eyes and went back to the device in his hands but the older man didn’t miss the smile he tried to hide when he ducked his head back down. He took a breath to ease his amusement and lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs as one would in kindergarten, his left knee touching Harry’s thigh as he shifted to get more comfortable. He leaned over to get a better look at the small screen showcasing the younger man’s gallery of pictures, absolutely breaking the bubble of sanctum even more as the action led their faces to only be two inches apart. “Can I see those?”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry tilted the camera to the side enough for both of them. He normally didn’t allow anyone else to hold onto it, being one of those people who were highly protective of their equipment, but he somehow felt okay with allowing Louis to cradle the other half while he pressed through the photos on his own. He watched anxiously as the caramel haired singer’s gaze flickers across the details of the images. It wasn’t that he needed the approval — he went to school for this and was confident enough to capture moments during family or friend outings and local events here and there — but this was more than a hobby and he felt it was crucial that someone he was fond of approve of it.

“These are good, H. Like.. really fucking good.” Louis said, now on the section from the get together his mother insisted on having just for finding out Gemma was pregnant. She’d called it a pre-baby shower. That day was one of the most special ones to Harry because he was out working in America and had to jump through a few hoops in order for his employers to allow a flight home three days earlier than they were planning on sending him back. (Going home early after this sequence of events was a no-go from then on. It had taken months before they started giving him a day of free time out in the cities he flew to, and even then it wasn’t until this past spring.) He had to change in the airport once he landed and practically bugger his friend Jamie to pick him up last minute as the others were preparing for the party or working out of their homes.

It was chaotic and tiring and while he’d ended up deleting about half of what was taken that day, the praise coupled with the nickname practically had Harry preening at Louis’ awestruck comment. “Thanks.” He uttered, a bare blush on his face as he sucked in his bottom lip.

Louis glanced at him and grinned, planting a wet kiss on his cheek that earned a both adorable and amusing squeak out of Harry. The movement caused the curly haired one to accidentally bite the inside of his cheek, and he immediately exclaimed a small ‘ow’, rubbing the side of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes at the giggles escaping Louis, “It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, love, but it definitely is.”

“Insufferable.” Harry muttered, snatching his camera back into full possession. “Did you stalk me just so you could laugh at me?”

“Course not.” Louis had the gall to act offended at the accusation, neither one bringing up how willingly Harry gave him the details of his day. He obnoxiously leaned his body into Harry’s, shoulder pushing against shoulder until the poor boy was nearly toppled on the ground himself and the annoyance on his face split into a helpless stifle of giggling. “Came to ask you on a date.”

Harry’s head whipped around to face Louis, one arm still laid out to keep himself from actually dropping into the grass. “W-what?”

“A date.” Louis sighed, speaking as if it was the fifth time he’d said it. “Two lads sitting across a table eating dinner, being disgustingly fond. Maybe watch a film at someone’s flat that won’t actually be paid any mind because they’d be too busy snogging–”

“Louis!”

The person in question only found endeared solace in the blush eroding on Harry’s face, arching a brow in playful question. “Are you telling me you’re going to deny a handsome gentleman a movie snog, Harold?”

“Ohmygod.” Harry groaned, throwing his head back. Finally able to readjust his position, he straightened up just to shove the man towards the other side. “I will agree on one condition.”

“Don’t think it’s fair to have a condition when you confessed first, but I’ll listen because you’re cute.”

“I–” Was there a time limit to how long heat could rush to someone’s face and stay red? Because if this was what Louis Tomlinson was like when he liked someone, then Harry had a feeling he’d be needing to cool himself down a lot. “I still have the other half of the park to cover, so you’d need to help me.”

“Yessir.” Louis sat up straight and stuck his fingers together, imitating a captain’s salute, blue eyes practically shining when they locked with shimmering green. “What do I do?”

He smiled and rolled his eyes, setting the camera strap back around his neck, recapping the lens for a bit. “It’s small stuff. Give second opinions, look up good locations to shoot at, point out things that stick out to you. I tend to stop for everything even if it’s just a minuscule thing like dewdrops on leaves, and can get sidetracked easily. This one time I’d spent a copious amount of time in just one small part of such a massive beach down in Australia. The entirety was gorgeous and the continent as a whole is photogenic in itself. This one spot though.. Kept getting pulled in by the varying heights and strength of the waves, and birds flying around or sitting in the water as they got bounced around, even the sand. Because depending on where you walked, it was either toe-digging soft and warm or cold and so firm you left footprints or carried these cool grooves that made the ground feel rough. Honestly, if you didn’t show up here I would have spent hours just…” He trailed off when he noticed how quiet Louis was, no humming of agreements or confirmations he was listening. It was much too easy to notice how bright his gaze was and how it stuck to the bottom half of his face. He bit his lip to keep himself from going any further in his ramble, “Am I talking too much?”

“What?” Louis blinked once, twice, before his eyes flickered up to meet his own. “Sorry, no! Not at all. It was nice.. hearing you talk about something so passionately.”

“Oh.. well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The singer replied cheekily before hoisting himself off the ground. He brushed off any possible blades of grass from the backs of his jeans and stretched an arm downward, smiling when Harry took the offered hand. He waited patiently for Harry to readjust the strap and pick up the bag that was by his feet, then took it out of his hands before he could set it upon his shoulder. “I’ll take this. You just do your thing.”

“Thanks, Lou.” Harry rolled his eyes despite the bashful smile on his face, allowing the carrier to be taken away. He cleared his throat quietly to keep himself grounded at the electric sensation he felt when their fingers briefly met during the transfer, neither one pulling away from the close proximity that caused their hands to brush as they began to walk together.

“Do you do this a lot, then?” Harry looked over after removing the cap on his lens again, getting it ready for more photo ops, to find Louis already taking out his phone to search for new places he could go to. His blue eyes glanced over and he smiled before returning his attention to the fully loaded screen.

“Um, yeah. Not as much as I would like, mind, but enough to keep me content.” He mumbled, lifting the camera to his eye when he noticed a bird’s nest in a tree ahead of them. He stopped briefly, turning the ring around the lens to sharpen the image and pushing the tab on the top towards the left until he could see every detail in perfect focus. He spoke through the several clicks taken while the mother bird hopped around the structure. “Even with all the traveling, my job made it hard to just spend a day going out.” He lowered the equipment and let it hang off his chest, holding it loosely but protectively with one hand as they started walking again. “I stopped bringing my camera along after a while. Even when they started giving me the extra time before sending me back here, I was used to not having it with me, so I’d lost a bit of spark for a while. Figured now that I have this next week and a half free, I could start back up.”

“I’m glad – oh, what about this bed of roses over here? With the orange –” Louis waited until Harry saw where he was pointing, “I’m glad you were able to get back into it. Seems really important to you.”

“It is.”

There was a comfortable silence stretched between them as they led one another across the grass and down white concrete pathways, Louis steering the wheel of the subjects Harry would photograph while also allowing him to revel in the peace he clearly received from doing so. The two men walked side by side, fingertips lingering against one palm or lightly clasping the other’s wrist when they’d see something that caught their eye. It wasn’t too much time spent together — two hours, two and a half tops — as they both had their own plans set for the remainder of the evening but the company was more than enjoyable and spark inducing. There were a couple of run-ins with fans who had wanted photos with Louis but they were quick and understanding of him just wanting to relax and take a stroll. They even backtracked to the ice cream truck sitting in the same spot as earlier, the line of kids, teens and parents fluctuating throughout the day as people went home while others arrived. It wasn’t from the place in Mexico City Harry loved and now held above all other parlors, but he’d at least been able to get the strawberry shortcake pop he’d always chosen as a child while Louis claimed an Oreo version, and they each shared a bit of their own with one another.

As the sun began to dip and take away the varied lighting provided to Harry throughout the day, turning the sky from a bright blue to a brief orange hue that was ever so slowly transitioning into a dark navy, they were leaning over the roof of Harry’s car across the street from the shining silver and gold gate of Regents Park. They’d discarded the wrappers and popsicle sticks in a nearby bin, watching the slow change of colors and cars passing by as they stood on the sidewalk, putting together the details of the date the artist so casually brought up earlier. Louis had been going straight down the list of days — Monday? Tuesday? — and now they were on Thursday. “Aren’t first dates usually done on the weekends?”

“We’re adults, Harry. We can have weekday first dates.” Louis rolled his eyes, slightly deflated that so far no days seemed to work for the security guard. It made sense, of course. His last position was freeing while also limiting him with unknown amounts of time to spend with those close to him or to just truly relax before another assignment. He’d had to set up time to see everybody he missed and catch up with people within the next week and two days, and Louis couldn’t blame him at all. But fuck. He desperately wanted to see him sooner than where this was leading. “No Thursday, then?”

“Taking my sister to an appointment at two that afternoon. But I should be free after three.” He replied, eyes never leaving the park in front of them.

And Louis wasn’t going to ask if it wasn’t for the smile falling a bit slack after the first sentence, because it isn’t his business. He had no right or need to know more about what the appointment was for; it wasn’t his sister. But the younger man’s voice softened in a way that was a bit sad and though they hadn’t known each other long, he knew that any kind of sadness was unacceptable when paired with Harry Styles. It just set him on edge, high alert, with a want to make him smile no matter what. “What kind of appointment is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“OB. It’s an ultrasound for the end of her second trimester. Her husband couldn’t get out of a business trip, so I’m going with.” Louis watched as Harry shrugged as if it was a casual affair, not something that plagued him if even just a fraction.

“Is that.. is something wrong? You sound sad.”

When Harry looked at him with slightly furrowed brows, Louis’ lips were ready to backtrack until they were stopped by the sight of a melancholy smile unusually paired with sparkling green eyes. “They’re both great, healthy and great. It’s just..” he sighed and turned back to the busy street, “I’d missed more than I thought while traveling. I’d always be too tired or the time difference was too much, so I couldn’t have proper, real time chats with anyone. We met for brunch today and when she was telling me all the details, I realized I was already missing out on crucial moments. I’d even missed the gender reveal, Louis.”

“What?” Louis’ eyes widened.

“They kept it a secret so they could redo the party since I have the time to spend with everyone now, but she felt bad and told me today. Of course she’d called me with the news day of — excluding the obvious — but it wasn’t the same as being there. But if they tried to put off the actual party I would’ve told them to do it without me anyway because it wasn’t about me, you know? It’s about her and the baby. But it fucking sucks knowing I’d missed the day they found out my niece was my niece. And I just — it’s just..”

“Oh, hey. Harry. It’s okay.” Louis immediately shuffled closer and gently gripped his forearm at the sound of a shuddered breath, tone low and gentle and repeating the last two words like a soothing mantra. The taller male didn’t make any moves himself but allowed Louis to pull him into a hug, using a hand to lower his head down on his shoulder and rake his fingers through a mess of wispy locks. He wasn’t crying but it was obviously a sensitive subject.

God, why did he even ask to elaborate? Why couldn’t he just leave it alone and let him choose whether or not he wanted to share more information about his own family? Why must he insert himself in another person’s situation? Calling out his tone of voice like that, who did he think he was? This was their third time hanging out since getting back, with zero dates, having only just admitted their feelings to one another, and now he’d gone and poked his nose into something that was not his concern. Louis was an idiot.

Harry didn’t shed any tears that could be felt finding their way onto the offered shoulder but sniffles were prominent, his camera forgotten and gently swinging in the space it created between their torsos. It was not the time to get flustered over Harry eventually wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist after pushing the camera to his side, burying his face in the man’s neck.

“So… Friday at 7?”

Louis was also terribly awkward with people he liked. Sometimes. Once in a while.

But he had to hold himself back from visibly preening when he heard the bare laugh just as much as he felt the twitch of soft lips and warm breath against his chilled skin (he did not anticipate the wind picking up and was dressed in a cable knit sweater that welcomed the breeze in like an old friend).

“Friday at 7.”

Chapter Text

“Be honest—”

“‘M always honest.” The thick Irish accent snorted out, words slightly muffled as the Northern musician shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Louis could do nothing but huff and give one of his best friends a one finger salute, frown twitching at the cackle that immediately resulted in the man choking on the next bite he was taking.

Niall Horan was just as much of a menace as his English counterpart, though his tendencies and manner of speaking came with a feeling of easiness and genuine amusement rather than sarcastic jokes and witty remarks. They’d known one another for over half of Louis’ life, having met when his family was spending a weekend in the city, and as he made way to a record shop he noticed a blonde-haired, ocean eyed boy strumming an acoustic guitar on the pathway in front of the establishment. His coat was a little big on him as well as his trousers and he sported a pair of purple Supra sneakers but shit, did he have confidence. He was humming and singing without a microphone or any kind of speakers, yet the chords and his small voice seemed to reach all the way across the wide street where pedestrians stopped to watch or film him. Louis threw a few pounds into the case open by his feet, stirring a laugh from the growing talent because ya’ve got it all wrong, mate. M’ just buskin’ for fun. The easygoing nature of the younger boy squashed down the embarrassment of a caught out 14 year old Tomlinson, and after a click of friendship that had him being introduced to the owner of the store (Niall’s uncle) along with a bond over taste in music, the two became inseparable. Now here they were, sixteen years later with many disagreements but few real fights, a lot of love, and countless late nights with junk food happening in between the years.

Louis ignored present-Niall’s amused expression and continued on, running his hands along the sides of his thighs and playing with the bottom hem of his jumper as he looked on in the full length mirror, twisting his body this way and that. “Do these make my arse look big?”

“As opposed t’ its natural bigness? Yes.”

“Shove off, Ni. I’m being serious.” He whined, shooting the other man a look through his reflection.

“You have a big arse, Tommo. It's a proven fact.” Niall sighed through his nose, taking his time with lifting the glass of ginger ale from the nightstand and taking a few sips before setting both the cup and bowl of popcorn down. He exaggerated a slow sit-up from his position against the pile of pillows, hands in his open lap as he gave his friend a bored stare, one brow raised in an incredulous fashion. “What’s so different ‘bout this one anyway?”

“He thinks I’m insufferable.” Louis mumbled, tilting his head while his fingers worked through the fringe hanging over his forehead. Not that it ever looked any different to anyone but him.

“We all think that, lad. Don’t see yuh takin’ any of us on a date.”

Louis just rolled his eyes, pulling at a loose thread and wrapping it around his index finger before pulling it off his sweater with an inaudible snap. “He thinks I’m insufferable and childish, and I’m positive he complained about me when I was being a dick.” He shortly rambled, finally finishing with the mirror and heading towards the mess of shoes at the bottom of his open closet to grab his red Vans. “But he still likes me and agreed to a proper date–”

“So not a prude or a glorified PETA enthusiast or positively borin’.”

“Exactly. Hence the difference.”

“What time were you meant t' be pickin ‘im up?”

“Seven.”

“An’ how far’s his flat from here?”

“Bout twenty minutes.” Louis paused as he ran over the questioning tone he’s been targeted with, “Wait.. what’s with the third degree, Niall?” Louis narrowed his eyes.

“Jus’ askin’.” He shrugged. The blonde tilted his head from side to side as he scrolled through the list of films on the television in Louis’ room, and when he felt the pair of lighter blue on him, a smirk lined across his lips. “Jus’ thought you’d wanna know yer runnin' a bit late. S’nearly 6:50, mate.”

Louis glanced at the digital alarm on his nightstand, confirming that yes, he actually was running late. “Fuck!”

He rushed up from the bed, snatching his phone, keys and wallet on his way out the door, Niall’s amusement following him until the front door slammed shut.

||

Louis had never been late for any of his past ‘incidents’ — which he’d taken to calling his history of failed dates — so, really, Harry should feel flattered that he was so preoccupied in looking decent that he lost track of time.

He should be flattered, Louis thought when he rang the doorbell. And yet the bit of confidence he had in that sentiment was lost as soon as he was face to face with a casually dressed-up Harry Styles leaning against an open door frame, arms crossed over his chest and a raised eyebrow. Looking very attractive, mind, with light blue straight leg leather trousers, a white tee shirt underneath an ocean colored cardigan, and matching baby blue Adidas, his camera bag hanging across his back as Louis had asked him to bring it. “You are aware that you’re the one who asked me out, aren’t you?”

“I am very much aware, yes.” Louis nodded, not allowing the bemusement being bestowed upon him at the moment to deter the buzzing thrumming through his body.

Harry continued to scrutinize the older man’s appearance, warmth creeping up on Louis at the sheer display of being checked out by gorgeous green eyes. “Did you do something to your hair? Look a bit more mussed up.”

“Didn’t do much. M’hair never really changes.” He chuckled, shrugging to hide the preen he felt at such a minute change being noticed by someone other than himself. Instead of allowing any more of a delay to their plans, he stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss on Harry’s cheek, hand briefly squeezing his bicep as he stepped back and tilted his head toward the street behind them. “Ready to go?”

“Obviously.” Harry retorted, purposely nudging Louis’ shoulder as they made their way down the small set of concrete steps. Louis did actually feel bad for being late, he wasn’t a total idiot, so he rushed his steps to get to the passenger side before Harry could, opening the door for him to slide right in with a teasing yet genuine thank you before moving to the right to get behind the wheel.

“So do I get to know where we’re going?” Harry asked fifteen minutes into the drive. He was leaning towards the center console of the car, playing with the dial of the radio until it landed on an alternative station, one of Louis’ favorites.

“Nope.”

“Not even a hint?”

“Not even a ghostly whisper.”

“That sounds haunting.” Harry snorted at his own terrible joke, Louis groaning and otherwise staying quiet. Except he did flick the security guard in the ear for the comment. After a moment he hummed, leaning back into the seat and turning his head to face Louis as he set it against the headrest. “You know.. as someone who thought he was going to be stood up, I think I deserve at least a baby hint.”

“You did not think I was going to stand you up.” Louis glanced over at Harry, who could only shrug and look at him sheepishly. “Harry. You did not think that. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Well…”

“Ten minutes! I was ten minutes late!”

“Twelve, actually.”

Louis was at a loss for words, taking advantage of the red light they reached to properly gape at the man beside him. His blue gaze narrowed into slits when their eyes met, Harry with an eyebrow raised in some kind of expectation and Louis glaring out of both suspicion and anticipation. Harry didn’t crack until the light ahead of them changed to yellow, much too late for Louis to directly react towards the twitch in the boy’s upper lip and sputtered laugh he attempted and failed to cover up with a cough because, of course, he needed to drive as soon as he noticed the changes in said expression. “You’re the fucking worst, Harold.” Louis began to rant; if he couldn’t look at the man properly then he sure as hell was going to get his point across. “The absolute worst person I have ever come across in my life. I have half a mind to drive you back and go on this date by myself. Don’t think I won’t do it because I will.”

“Gonna stand yourself up, then?” The smile in Harry’s voice was evident even without either one facing anything other than forward or out the side window, fingers tapping mindlessly against knees. “Actually, the real question is: would you be able to handle being stood up by your own person? Like, imagine planning a date just to have proper alone time or in spite of a very pretty concert guard, only to look yourself in the mirror once you’re all ready and go: you know what me? I don’t want to hang out with me tonight. And then you have to cancel fancy me time, you change out of your fancy clothes, put on fancy sweats and just… faceplant. Right there on the floor.” 

“On the floor?”

“If you’re devastated enough.” There was a slight pause where Harry inhaled and Louis just fucking knew he was finding too much joy in this. “Sofa works, too. Or the bed. If you just give up on trying to impress yourself for the evening and go to sleep instead.”

“And what do fancy sweats entail?”

“You know, those joggers that are made of eighty percent Egyptian cotton and are jet black or electric blue or canary yellow with colorful geometric patterns running down the legs. They’re bunched at the bottoms, too, because the designers are smart. Fancy sweats, they are.”

“You have five pairs, don’t you?”

“Three. Five is too much. No one needs that many classy trackies.”

“Ohmygod.” Louis whispers into the newfound silence that follows, in awe with the fact that he is willingly taking out the Pepsi security. The Pepsi security who is becoming more odd and dorky than was shown to him back in the Latinx city. The Pepsi security who is simultaneously one of the most intimidating yet absolutely innocent people he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“It’s alright, Lou. I still like you.”

The Pepsi security who continued to be endearing and adorable.

“Even if you did plan on leaving me hanging without a word.”

The bloody Pepsi security who was the most horrible person Louis has ever known because he was clearly never going to let the singer live this down.

||

For being a hidden gem tucked away in a small alley between Shorts Gardens and Monmouth Street in Covent Garden, London, Neal’s Yard was the most colorful display of tourism and photogenics either of them had ever seen in their lives. Louis took massive satisfaction in the awestruck widening of jade green after they’d found a parking spot and began the short walk to the slightly crowded alleyway, hands joined in the space between them because it was a narrowed cobble road leading to the courtyard of restaurants and the non-street was reasonably crowded on a Friday evening. The bright orange and green and red vibrantly stood out against the brick buildings and gray concrete ground, doorways of different blues and purples and other members of the rainbow and awnings with cursive or newspaper print font, rectangular bunches of ivy leaves creating large trails along the shop walls and chalkboard signs with a pun or two advertising the special of the day, a sheetless tent of little triangle flags strung up over a yard of teal benches built around trash cans converted into tree planters. Harry’s eyes absorbed the abundance of color easily, the tangerine and variants of cerulean reflecting as tiny dots of light dancing across his irises and making up the entirety of his pupils whenever he looked back at Louis with the giddiness of a child in a theme park. He’d moved so quickly when seeing where they were that Louis took over holding onto the DSLR, the device now resting against his torso.

The first thing they did was enter a beauty shop, the Ethical Organic Health & Beauty tagline catching the younger man’s eye because he’d actually been needing to buy some new product, anyway. Harry was very conscious of how beneficial what he put on his skin was to both the environment and himself. His body was a temple and it needed proper nourishment; that’s what he told Louis whose nose was scrunched up in distaste of some of the muskier, more earthy scents.

Louis allowed himself to be dragged from one shop to another. If he was being honest, he had no clue what wonders were held within the little alley of the city. He’d just Google’d photogenic sights and it automatically loaded an article called ‘Secret London’ with a list that ran sixty long of the best spots for anyone who loved photography. After seeing what kind of clothes his date wore, he figured this would be the best place for their first time out together, and it was already worth it seeing the twinkling gaze and wonderment of Harry’s smile. And if he took the liberty in snapping a few shots or shooting videos in twelve to twenty second increments (a few of which he did get caught doing) because it was just too endearing not to, then no one but the two of them needed to be aware of that fact.

“Hey Louis?”

Two and a half hours later they were laying in the grass of the common area across the street from where the alleyway was located. Harry wanted to see what exactly Louis had taken with the camera so he opted in cloud watching as he flipped through the gallery, making small noises of approval and giggling through the clips that included close-ups of playfully scolding Louis for recording him when he got a brain freeze from the frozen yogurt or tripped because he was too distracted by the fairy lights high above everything else to notice where he stepped.

“Mhm.” Louis was already looking at him when the photographer turned his head.

“You know we could’ve done anything else and I would have loved it, right? You didn’t have to choose this just because of a silly hobby.”

“Well, yeah, I did choose it because of that but..” Louis’ brows furrowed at the implication, “it isn’t a silly hobby. You talked pretty passionately about it the other day, and you said you gave up for a while because you never had time to do it.” He shrugged the best he could, shoulder blades cold amongst the chill of the grass. “Anyone who loves something that much should have it in their lives as often as they can, yeah? Besides, I like it here. Not too many people and no one’s stopped us. Just a nice change of pace, you know?”

“Yeah, I can imagine..” Louis watched the way Harry’s vision glossed over, the jade of his eyes becoming more vibrant with a newfound shine to them as they seemed to search Louis’ face for something, the camera suspended over Harry now being slowly set down behind them. His gaze flickered between Louis’ and his lips, the distance of five inches closing with each passing second until the taller male was hovering over him with his elbow in the grass as leverage.

Once there were only centimeters between them he leaned down to press his rosy lips against the singer’s, almost no time needed before Louis reacted and pushed himself up to deepen the slot of their mouths against one another. When Louis traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Harry lifted his other hand to cup Louis’ cheek, a newfound taste of Yorkshire and peppermint overwhelming every sense, fogging up his brain with countless moments that haven’t happened yet but shared the similarity of this very thing. Of two men being so irrevocably into their feelings for each other that neither could care that one was a beyond well known musician on break during a world tour, and the other was once in a while looked at as one of those famed TikTok phases, and they were both making out in a park across a somewhat public tourist destination. Of men who met less than two weeks ago but have been entangled in a web of confessions and feelings that neither one has felt in a time long enough for them to forget how much of a rush it was to find themselves falling so fast.

“Starting to rain..” Louis got out when he felt a few cool drops splat and race down his cheek. Harry hummed, the gentle vibration shooting chills up Louis’ spine and goosebumps across his arms.

“S’fine.” He mumbled, knees now bracketing Louis’ hips as he straddled the man on the ground, lips brushing together each time they spoke. Louis allowed himself to get swept back up in the feeling of Harry against him until more drops fell upon his face and he pulled back, grinning at the groan Harry let out before he slowly opened his dilated eyes to look at him. “Louis.”

“Up and at ‘em, Harold.” He replied, leaning back in to steal another mildly heavy kiss. “Unless your camera is waterproof. In which case we can stay here and kiss in the rain like those cheesy rom-com films.”

“You love those films.” Harry smiled, the action falling to somewhat of a frown when the words fully processed and his eyes were now wide in realization. “Oh shit, my baby!” He straightened himself up and immediately swung his left leg back to join his right as he scrambled to get off of Louis, accidentally elbowing the other’s side in the process of grabbing for his camera and the bag so he could stuff it in as safely and efficiently as possible before any water really got on it. When the black, geometric crossbody was zipped and clipped shut his head snapped over to see Louis sitting up, running a hand down his side. “Ohmygod did I hit you? I did, didn’t I?”

“I’m fine. You’re fine.”

The worry lining Harry’s shoulders dissipated at the relaxed and unfortunately very amused tone of Louis’ voice as he pushed himself out of the sitting position, loose grass clippings beginning to cling to the ends of his sleeves and back of his jumper as the sparse drops turned into a light drizzle. His hair was already frizzing just so with the change in weather and the way the mist clung to them as if they were the only source of survival, minuscule dew drops forming and finding solace on the tips of his eyelashes between each blink. He offered a hand to the cameraman and pulled him up as well, immediately lacing his rapidly freezing fingers with Harry’s warm ones. By the time they’d made it the quarter mile back to the car, their clothes stuck to their skin and they’d resembled soaked puppies after a bath, water no doubt seeping into the seat covers and mats on the floor of Louis’ Jeep.

“You know what? Kissing in the rain has always been a bit overrated.”

Harry’s laugh came out sputtered before it turned into a cackle and Louis, for the life of him, could not understand why what he said was so fucking hilarious. But Harry’s hair made him look like a drenched poodle and there were crinkles by his eyes and craters in his very rosy cheeks and his eyes were so bright, and he allowed himself to ignore the quiet chattering of his own teeth because this boy was a vision that made him forget how he was absolutely sure he’d get hypothermia. Okay, maybe not absolutely sure, but he still had his beliefs.

“Do you want to towel off at mine? Got some clothes that might fit. And ‘ve got an umbrella you could use to go back home after.” Harry suggested after he calmed down, the vehicle having been turned on and nearly fully warmed up in the time it took him to do so.

“Might fit? Are you insinuating something, Harold?” Because of course that’s the first thing that registers.

“Think we both know I’m taller, Lou.” Harry grinned, pushing wet locks out of his eyes and making Louis internally swoon. “‘ve also got legs for days, so, m’pants will probably be long on you.”

“That’s it.” Louis set his hand on the handle between them and pushed it into the reverse function. He set his left hand behind Harry’s seat and looked back to make sure no cars were leaving at the same moment or about to pass behind them. “Can’t believe you just called me small, Harold. Cannot believe it.” He grumbled, reversing with a wide curve when he noticed he had more space to do so and spinning the steering wheel back to its default position so he could straighten the car. “M’pants will probably be long on you.” He mocked, a terrible impression of his date’s slow, baritone drawl sending Harry into a fit of giggles that had Louis have to fight the twitch of his lips so he could glare at him properly once it was safe to look at him while driving. “Take a man on a date and what does he do? Calls me fucking small.”

“I didn’t!!” Harry got out through his giddiness.

“It was implied.” He responded dryly, starting the route that would take them back to Harry’s place. “And now I’ve obviously got to accept your offer and prove you wrong.”

“You’re ridiculous.” There was a pause of breath, and Louis knew, and he hated that he knew. “You were also late, which made me spiral for twelve minutes, so even if I did imply anything, it was well deserved.”

“Harold Styles, I solemnly swear that—”

“You are up to no good?”

Louis smacked the man’s shoulder, deepening his companion’s amusement at the situation. “Harry, please let me threaten you properly. This is getting offensive. I’m very offended.”

“Sucks to be you, then, Tomlinson.”

Louis gasped and Harry cackled at the open mouthed expression when their gazes met, and Louis couldn’t believe he allowed himself to be fooled into going back and stepping foot into Harry’s house to change into Harry’s clothes and probably drink tea because Harry was the type of person to offer tea to anyone who would partake in the definite comforts of his home. He dreaded being submerged in a space that was going to smell like lavender and lemon because that’s what Harry smelled like. A hazard to his heart is what doing this entailed, but he was stubborn and childish and loved the way his antics were lighting up the bundle beside him and—

Louis Tomlinson was going to die in Harry Styles’ house.

Chapter Text

“Ohmygod.”

“Don’t.”

“You look so small.”

“I said don’t.”

“Oh but Lewis,” he continued, a blinding grin on his face that made Louis’ burn even more than it already was, “seems to me you’ve been proven wrong, haven’t you?”

“Shut up, Harry.” Louis grumbled, bunching up the sleeves of an oversized olive green jumper at his elbows and hiking up the non-fancy black joggers at his waist so he could tie the string at the front to keep them in place, before sitting in a vintage modern barstool at the small granite counter separating the kitchen from the living area. He crossed his arms over one another on the surface and set his chin in the fold, narrowing his eyes at the glints of amusement and smugness in Harry’s eyes, then flickering them to the stovetop producing blue flames. “What are you doing?”

Harry shrugged, “We didn’t really eat, did we? And don’t mention the frozen yogurt, that hardly counts.” He tacked on when Louis opened his mouth to respond, causing the older boy to promptly turn his answer into a huff. “I’m just boiling some water to make us spaghetti. Simple but really good, promise. Wanted to put together some meatballs but I stopped eating meat myself. Was going to make them with the beef and pork mix I keep stored for when I have people over but ‘ve run out, apparently, so store bought will have to do.”

“You were going to make me homemade meatballs at near eleven at night for our first date?”

“Why are you making it sound weird? S’not weird.”

“‘ve just never had anyone ‘side from a couple of mates cook for me, is all.” Louis muttered, cheeks growing pink and bright eyes avoiding the now soft gaze of the boy making them both a late dinner.

“S’just that it really has been a great day.” Harry went on sentimentally, beaming at the shy smile on the loud man. “Besides, I was told you’re pretty rubbish in the kitchen, so.”

“What?” Louis squawked, head snapping up in defense of the cooking skills he would never admit he did indeed lack. His stare transformed back into slits at the sight of Harry’s shaking back as he tended to the pasta and cooked meat with a laugh that would have sounded like melodic bells if it weren’t for the correct accusations being made against him. “Who told you that?”

Harry shrugged, “Dunno.”

“I’ll have you know,” he cut in without more prompt, “that I happen to be quite good at a few things.” The wishful photographer snorted. Louis frowned while he poured out the boiling water and began to toss everything into a saute pan that had a bright red tomato sauce simmering on another corner of the stovetop. He watched the careful way Harry used a pair of wood stained tongs to clasp onto clumps of the finished dish, twisting the pasta so they create small nests of noodles and sauce, creating dents in the center of each pile and planting several meatballs in Louis’, evidently making it resemble a bird’s nests and rendering Louis unsurprised. When Harry set the plates on the counter with two forks and asked if he’d wanted any grated parmesan or dried basil, the only thing the artist did was unfold his arms, softly banging the flat of his palms on the surface and whining at him. “Harry.”

Harry only bent forward and kissed the corner of the frown on Louis’ face. “If you eat, I promise to let you show me those cooking skills of yours another time. Deal?”

Louis sighed as if it was a hassle defending his own honor, “S’pose that’s fair.” He picked up his fork and began spinning its teeth, shoveling the mess into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully — because this man had the great sense of feeding them after realizing they hadn’t sat down for an actual meal during the date, opting to cook rather than order in — he found himself growing more fond of the boy sitting across from him. “Dammit.. that is really good.” He shared, voice warped not unlike Niall’s just hours ago.

Harry only grinned and started on his own dinner.

||

The rain was coming down harder than when they left Neal’s Yard. No longer considered drops as they began to pelt against the fogged up window panes and paneled roof of Harry’s townhome, generating themselves into a noise machine that drowned out the few cars still driving down the road past his house and very occasionally being accompanied by the almost invisible flashes of white or lilac light. Harry washed the dishes after they finished eating while Louis picked something to watch from one of three streaming services apparently being paid for, causing Louis to call out a sarcastic you don’t get out much, do you and Harry to snort from where he was scrubbing the pans.

Louis was wrapped in a blanket from a cupboard under the staircase, the fluffy material covering up to his chin while Kitchen Nightmares played on to quell Louis’ want of watching people fail, while he waited for Harry to return. When Louis mentioned having to leave because one of his dogs wasn’t a fan of the thunderous noise reverberating within the gray clouds, Harry was more than insistent on the singer staying the night, compromising by offering to be the one to get them both. “We can’t have you getting sick, Lou,” he’d said with a frown, “you have shows coming up.” And so despite the protest that it wouldn’t take a week for Louis to get over a simple cold, Harry shoved on his trainers, tightened the drawstrings of his hoodie, grabbed his keys (as well as Louis’) and an umbrella from the coat area in the corner beside the entryway, and left. So he stayed put, tucked into the corner of a sofa he’s never been on before inside of the living room of a house he’s never stepped foot in until today (and never even knew existed until seven days ago), somehow feeling more than at home.

It was a solid fifteen minutes after Harry’d gone of Gordon Ramsay shouting at the owner of a seafood restaurant that didn’t even sell actual seafood, when there was a clap of thunder much louder than earlier. And Louis didn’t startle over it, he didn’t. But what did jolt his attention was a low crash from the ceiling followed by a quick succession of thuds, and the next thing he knew there was an orange cat with ginger-shaded stripes trying to sandwich its way between the cushions like missing change. “Fuck’s sake!” He yelped out, eyeing the creature as it finally settled in the empty space next to him. Taking a breath, he shook his head. “You’ve got shit timing, mate..”

The cat looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. “I reckon you’re the little thing Harry’s got that giant toy chest for.” He shrugged an arm out from under the blanket and reached a tentative hand towards the tabby so she could sniff his hand. “Don’t s’pose you’re up for a chat? I’m getting quite tired of this episode.” He was peered at so intensely it was starting to get a bit too much, so he opted in heading towards the kitchen to raid his date’s fridge for a snack. The soft padding of pawed feet followed closely behind and he glanced back as the four legged housemate plotted herself right beside a wooden stand with one bowl empty and another filled with water set in beside it. There was a small sign attached to the front of the setup that read Ginger in a handwritten-like font. “Ah, I see..” Louis trailed off, looking around to guess where the pet food would be kept so he wouldn’t have to start opening up cabinets that weren’t his. He looked back at Ginger, “Any idea where your dad keeps the dish? Oh. Alright.” He tacked on when the cat rose from its flat perch and made a beeline towards the pantry, pawing at the centimeters of space between the bottom of the door and the tile.

Louis got to short work then, sliding the barn door open and immediately moving to scoop out cat food from the large container sat in the corner, underneath a shelf dedicated to treats and vitamins for Ginger. There was no lack of patience at the tumbling sound of dry food meeting plastic, and when he’d turned to fill the empty half of the stand there she was, sitting patiently but staring at him with wide, yellow eyes, a ring of green around the inner part of the iris that was evident in the light and embarrassingly made Louis think of Harry.

“S’pose I shouldn’t be surprised you’ve got your own little corners of the world ‘round here. Your dad seems to be very attentive.” He sat back on the balls of his feet once the purring and chewing ensued, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together. “Don’t get me wrong, he can be right intimidating. Nearly took some bloke’s head off days ago just for touching my shirt.” Ginger paused to look up at Louis, who sighed, weighing his head side to side in bare thought. “Yeah, alright. It may have been my fault. M’a bit of a prick sometimes, you know. Don’t know when to let things go here and there. S’a shock that Harry likes me back, honestly.”

He took a moment to take in the decor of the kitchen, allowing his new confidante to indulge in the remainder of her meal. Everything was very aesthetically pleasing, made of polished wood that was either its natural color stain or painted with an olive green finish, a backsplash of white brick on the wall behind the appliances, light gray granite countertops, utensils and spices set outside the cupboards organized to the utmost perfection, one whole square of the sectional counter dedicated to a mixing bowl and hung baking tools (that specific saving no doubt holding an array of sprinkles and colored icings and cookie cutters and cupcake liners). This small space in itself felt like home with a scented candle that smelled like a plate of chocolate chip cookies with cinnamon — which he was definitely going to ask Harry to make even though it was past midnight now — and little plaques of motivational cooking puns and one personalized sign right above the stove that read Harry’s Kitchen in white, cursive script.

He felt a nudge against his leg and looked down, “Oh, you’re finished? Do you want a treat then? Figure it’s something Harry’d do if you ate it all in one go.” He felt absolutely ridiculous having a one-sided conversation with a cat but, well, he did speak to his dogs (mainly Cliff because he listened to his nonsense whereas Bruce listened for half then got distracted) on his off or lazy days like the labradoodles spoke human. Wasn’t really that different just because it wasn’t his pet.

“It is something I do, actually.”

Louis jumped but had no time to really respond before a mass of black curly fur rushed its way into his chest, frightening away Ginger in less than a second as its head butted Louis’ chin and nearly knocked him back onto the floor. “Oi, you big oaf! You’re gettin’ me soaked!” He got out through rasped giggles, pushing the dog off after he’d gotten in plenty of licks to his jaw and cheeks. A barely smaller bundle of four legs and golden fur sat patiently next to the couch but was undoubtedly excited, if the rapid wagging of the tail was anything to go by. Louis smiled and gestured for the younger dog to join in on the fun, knowing Bruce was just as playful but always the calmer of the pair of pups. After a second round of nails clicking against the tiled floor and paws hitting his chest, he pushed off the animals with a laugh. He glanced up and took the offered hand without hesitation, squeezing it and kissing the man in greeting as soon as he was upright. “Hi, love.”

“Hi.” Harry chuckled. “I see you’ve made a friend.”

“You left me to fend for myself, Harold. Had to go hunting for a new companion.”

“So sorry I inconvenienced your need for attention.”

“S’alright. No harm done.” Louis shrugged, fighting to keep a straight face. “Though a proper kiss wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He watched while Harry unclipped Clifford and Bruce’s leads and hung them next to his keys beside the door, not at all surprised to see a large ziplock bag of food and two of the lovable mutts’ toys on the floor with their shoes, though it did have him duck his head down, a fond smile taking up his face.

A pair of socked feet stepped into view and a finger pressed gently against his chin to tilt up his viewpoint, where his eyes met a hazy green and a toothy grin. “Proper, yeah? No friends watching us outside a pub or rain to ruin the camera?”

“Your baby.” Louis reminded him.

“Yeah.” Harry chuckled, the dimples in his cheeks deeper than they’d been the entire day. He peered into Louis’ blue leer before he bent his head down just so, capturing the singer’s lips in a sweet embrace of bubbly ginger ale and the watermelon gum Harry popped into his mouth after dinner. Louis deepened the kiss with ease, wrapping his arms around his neck loosely and pushing into the feeling until Harry was against the wall. Louis’ arms slid down so he could place his hands on either side of Harry’s neck, the pair moving in harmony with one another until it felt time to come up for air. “If this is what I get for picking up the dogs, I’ll have to do it more often.”

“Don’t be sappy.” Louis rolled his eyes, pinching the man’s cheek and placing a short kiss to his jawline before letting go.

All the animals padded their way into the living area (the dogs laying in front of the small fireplace and Ginger claiming the cushion of the armchair for herself) following their owners as Louis placed himself back at the corner he was tucked into. He patted the spot beside him and Harry wasted no time in burrowing underneath his arm, pulling the discarded blanket over them. Louis refocused his attention on the next rerun of Kitchen Nightmares that was playing. Harry didn’t really get the satisfaction in watching other people get verbally reprimanded in such a harsh way, though he was also partial to the drama of reality tv once in a while, so he could understand Louis’ entertainment in watching people fail at such simple things.

He hummed when Louis began weaving his hand through his curls, making the musician smile at how relaxed they both were in that moment. It all felt very domestic when he let himself think about it — the two of them wrapped up together on the sofa watching television late at night, their pets curled up here or there, a sense of coziness and warmth enveloping them. He didn’t find that he minded, though, regardless of how short a time they’d spent together. He was comfortable and content and more than happy than he’d ever been pursuing anyone romantically, and the omitting of hesitation there was in having two large dogs in a house with not so much space for them to roam just so the canines wouldn’t be alone during a storm warmed his heart tenfold. He never had a potential boyfriend be so invested in anything that wasn’t theirs.

But he guessed that was just Harry at this point. Harry who had proved to be an embodiment of kindness and genuineness and acceptance and understanding and bold wardrobe and bad jokes. Who immediately got along with everyone he met and fit in with the rest of the band and security team. Who was more protective than he might have thought  (and intimidating when need be). Who smelled of lavender and lemon every time they were close but his hair smelled like watermelon apple. Who had a cat named Ginger that he dedicated sections of his house for so she felt loved and pampered. Who refused to let Louis risk getting sick and left to pick up Louis’ dogs at Louis’ house and even brought back food and toys for them. Who treated Louis normally; like he wasn’t the worldwide success he was; like he knew he’d always be that boy from Doncaster that grew up in a family that struggled but was never lacking in love and support.

Harry was dazzling, to sum everything up in one word. And Louis was surely falling faster than he’d anticipated.

Chapter Text

There were only three days over the next week where Louis and the dogs spent time at his own house after staying over the night of the thunderstorm. Between family and friends, the couple went out on two more dates, were stopped numerous times by fans for photos or just to say hi before leaving the pair to their own devices, and Harry was still stunned by being known enough for some to want pictures with him as well. The day before they’d be leaving for Australia, he refused to leave the comfort of the townhouse, resulting in another night of movies and cooking and baking. (No, Louis has not shown off his limited skills of decency. Yes, he did ask Harry to make the chocolate chip cookies with cinnamon, and they were mouth-watering.)

“Lou, get up. Louis.”

“Go away.”

Harry sighed, glancing behind him at Ginger who was in her travel carrier and the dogs who were impatiently pacing in front of the door after Harry had gotten their leads off the wall. He looked back down at the man buried underneath the two blankets they used overnight, the only thing visible being the top of his head since he burrowed in further after Harry got up an hour earlier. Wasn’t great on his back, the position they slept in, but he figured he could crack what he needed to on the plane.

He bent down, lowering the blanket just enough so he could whisper, “If you get up, I’ll give you the best snog of your life.”

“Make it two and I’ll consider it.”

“Lewis.” Harry sighed, sitting on the couch so he could fix the laces on his boots. “Don’t make me put Ginger on your face.”

“I’m allergic, Harold.” Louis grumbled, pulling the knitted cover down so they could see each other, a face of innocence and exasperation meeting his own look of sleep ridden annoyance. “You put that cat on my face and you’ll be driving me to an ER.”

“Yes. Because people deathly allergic to cats cuddle up to them when their boyfriend goes to the loo.”

“You-” Louis’ response faltered slightly at the term they hadn’t spoken of yet but he carried on in stride, still determined to at least get an extra thirty minutes. “They do. It’s a known fact that no one gives a fuck if they end up red and blotchy if something cute and cuddly is right there, practically asking to be pet or hugged. I mean look at you , for fuck’s sake. I know for a fact we were wrapped up like koalas last night, and it’s because you’re cute and cuddly and mine.”

Harry snorted, “Flattery will get you nowhere.” He twisted around to raise an eyebrow at the deflated sound that came out of Louis’ mouth, a smirk begging to be released. “Get up, Tomlinson. We have to drop all the animals off to their sitters and stop at yours so you can pack, then meet the lads at the airport.”

“That’s all going to take ages, Harry.” Louis groaned obnoxiously loud and most definitely on purpose, as emphasized by the very dramatic and very aggressive way he sat up and tossed the blankets off his body, Harry already up to double check his own luggage was good to go, as well as the pets having all the essentials. (Though he did keep the leftover dog food and toys with Ginger’s stuff that would stay in the house. You know, for next time.)

Harry looked to find Louis with no covers but slouched against the couch. Shaking his head, he marched over and grabbed the man’s hands which were limp at his sides, tugging while he stepped back towards the door to get Louis up on his feet. “Harry.” Louis complained, opting to not pull away but instead slump forward, forehead resting against the taller man’s shoulder.

“You’re a grumpy lil’ Lou in the mornings, aren’t you?”

“M’not little, you twat.” Louis swatted his hand away when it ruffled the top of his head. “I’ve risen from my grave as requested. Kisses, please.”

“After we drop off Ginger, Cliff and Bruce, and grab your stuff.”

“What?!” Louis practically screeched, feeling cheated and offended that he’d been duped. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Fair is you not making us late.”

“We still can’t be late for a plane when it’s our plane.” Louis retorted, finally setting on slipping into his trainers by the door while he kept an eye on a Harry that was fluttering about the kitchen.

“Your plane.” He called from the pantry.

“Our plane. We all use it.”  Harry popped back over to Louis, backpack in one hand and a large bag of crisps in the other, “That for me?”

Harry moved the snack away from Louis’ reaching grasp. “Brush your teeth before we leave, please, and I’ll give you the junk food.”

“You’re very hard to like in the mornings, you know that?”

“Eh. I can live with it.”

||

There was an entire strategy in getting to the airport and on the plane in time for it to take off and land in Sydney at a decent time of day. A strategy that flew right out the window the second they came across the mess resulted from Louis practically throwing his luggage onto the floor of his bedroom and it bursting open from the aggressive contact with the floor. It took a solid twenty five minutes to get him not to take the same outfits he did for the Latin leg of the tour, and the only reason it didn’t take longer was because Harry refused to give him proper attention until he picked out something new.

They were definitely late in meeting up with the others at the Starbucks near their terminal, as told by the two untouched drinks on the table between the seats in the waiting area. Louis practically hugged the lidded coffee cup after dropping his bags on the carpeted ground, instantly slinking into a seat next to Michael. “You all want me to just wither away, don’t you?” He queried, pegging them each with a look that held nothing but contempt.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Tommo. S’no one’s fault you’re not an early riser.” Matt shot back as Michael set a calming hand on the singer’s shoulder when he saw the man’s offended features.

Louis scoffed, then laid his head so the back of it rested atop the chair when he felt a presence behind him. Instead of coming face to face with the ceiling, he was inches from being nose to nose with Harry. His hair was down so the curls that were rapidly growing in length and coil were loosely framing his face, his eyes were bright because he was definitely a morning person and might have given in to the make out session after Louis begrudgingly packed, and he was currently staring down at Louis with a barely tilted head and naturally wide eyes while he sucked on the straw of his large caramel frappuccino. “Hello, darling.”

“Hello.” Harry’s grin was small as he took another sip, dimples on display as he shined with the expression his friends dubbed his Louis smile. “You’re upside down.”

“Just a bit.” Louis grinned. He eyed the condensation already running down the frappe in the boy’s hand, the color so light he wondered if there was even any caffeine in it. “That’s quite a large, sugary drink you’ve got there.”

“S’called a venti.”

“Ah, my mistake.” He patted the empty seat on his other side, “Come sit while they get the plane ready to set off.”

Harry stared at him a moment with newly furrowed brows, as if contemplating something, before the faded crease between his eyebrows disappeared and he nodded, moving around several other spots he could’ve easily taken if he wasn’t tempted to be close to the artist as much as possible. He’d been quite compliant since receiving his drink, going with the flow of whatever conversations went on for the next bit of time before takeoff. The unofficial couple situated themselves around one another immediately, Louis lifting his arm so Harry could tuck himself underneath, resting his head on the older one’s shoulder. No one bothered to comment on the interaction aloud, but really they were exchanging smug looks, ignoring that they’d have to defend themselves from being pelted by snacks once the teasing ensued later on.

“Did you know venti means twenty in Italian?” Harry blurted.

“He did not.” Josh chimed in, leaning back in his own seat with his eyes closed. “Only knows how to say hello and goodbye, count to five, and ask where the nearest pizza place is.”

“Which, really, is pretty much most corners because it’s Italy.” Zak was more than glad to throw in.

“Piss off.” Louis grumbled, grabbing a wadded up napkin that fell to the floor and throwing it in the direction of his photographer and Zak. He swung his attention back to Harry, offering some of his drink, to which Harry scrunched up his nose and shook his head at, only game to have iced or frozen coffee (unless he was being offered tea. Then he had to accept it). Louis rolled his eyes and took down more of the warm beverage. “Do you actually know the language? Or just Starbucks terms?”

“I lived there for a gap year before uni, actually.”

“Did you really?” Isaac’s head perked up from where it was bent forward as he sent TikTok videos back and forth with Michelle, his interest very much peaked. “Could you show us some sights, then?”

“Definitely.” Harry’s eyes brightened even more than they were before, and Louis couldn’t have been more endeared in that moment than he was watching his boy get along so fantastically with his mates, gaze alight at the prospect of being a tour guide for the group. “There’s this really nice gelato spot called Della Palma in Rome. They have over 150 flavors, so you can imagine I went quite a few times.”

“H, my love,” Isaac ignored the indignant tone Louis squawked out, “you have my heart now. I hope you know.”

“I do.” Harry grinned, his lips stretching even wider when he noticed the overly suspicious glance Louis threw between the two of them.

Louis then tapped Harry’s cheek five times in rapid succession so he’d look at him. “Okay, my turn. Pay attention to me.”

“I always pay attention to you.” Harry rolled his eyes but Louis ignored it because the smile never left the curly man’s face. And it only fueled the burning question now in his mind, as he had just found out his maybe-boyfriend lived in foreign country for a year, and therefore had likely known at least a fraction of the language.

“Can you say something in Italian?”

“S’gonna sound weird. I haven’t needed to speak it since I got back. Not much diversity in language where we’re from.”

“Don’t care. You speak the language of love, and–” He swallowed when several gazes snapped his way from where he refused to look. Louis was a closeted hopeless romantic. The only ones who knew were his mum and sisters and Oli, but other than that he quite enjoyed putting up the facade he didn’t care much. More than anything, he felt the burn of Oli’s stare at the side of his head. “–I must rate how fluent you are. What if I want the absolute best pizza when we’re in Italy next month instead of regular?”

“Ohmygod.” One of the guys muttered.

“They do speak English over there, as well, y’know.” Harry countered, a glint of amusement twinkling along jade green when he fully picked his head up from Louis’ shoulder to look at him properly. “But if you insist.”

“I do insist. You will not be allowed to board otherwise.”

“Oh, well in that case.” Harry snorted, sitting up straight and making a whole show of warming up, clearing his throat and making bubble sounds with his mouth and imitating Dory speaking whale from Finding Nemo. Some of the boys were already giggling at the absurdity and dramatics by the time Harry had widened his eyes comically, faking the most intense cough as he pounded a fist to his chest, everyone near cackling when he fell back in his seat with a loud huff. He glanced over at Louis, who was thoroughly unimpressed, then around at the band and photographer and PA, who were more than entertained and grinning whilst a couple of them even clapped and complimented his performance. He righted himself in the chair and bowed from where he sat, “Thank you. Please tell me someone recorded that.”

“I’ve got you.” Steve laughed, waving the small device in his hand. “I’m uploading this, by the way. Move over hot security boy, live action Dory is taking the stage.”

“Excuse me.” Louis was now adamant to bring the attention back to himself. “You lot need to stop calling him attractive before I toss you out of the plane.”

“That’s literally what they call him online, mate.”

“S’not our fault he looks like that, honestly. He’s got good genes.” Oli chuckled, waving his hand towards the man next to Louis.

Harry was nearly beet red by this point as he took everything in, naturally humble but more than willing to join in. “Face genes or denim jeans?”

“Nope. No.” Louis interrupted before someone else could, pointing at his friends with a stern eye, “No one answer him. You’re all children and he needs to talk to me in Italian before I explode.”

It’s silent for only a moment, each guy in the group trying to rope in their bubbly bouts of amusement, until Harry piped in. “The answer was both. But don’t worry, you all get brownie points.” He cheekily smiled, then turned his body towards his unofficial partner, “I will now speak in tongues for you.”

“That sounds gross.”

“Michael, please. This is urgent.” Louis countered, reaching a hand behind him to slap the guitarist on the knee.

Harry stifled a giggle and went about doing a shortened version of the ridiculous routine before clearing his throat a final time. His eyes bore into Louis’ with a sudden gentle intensity that would have had the poor man off balance if he wasn’t sitting down. Harry took in a quiet breath, Louis’ gaze flickering from a pair of green eyes to parted lips when he started to speak. “Se qualcuno mi chiedesse di scegliere tra fare questo con te o fare ciò che mi rende felice, sceglierei entrambi. Perché sei ciò che mi rende felice.”

Their leers didn’t move from one another when Louis met his eyes again, but Louis reeled back just a bit. “You said it was going to sound weird. That was practically fucking fluent.”

“I guess.” Harry shrugged, picking up his frappuccino from where it was set on the carpet and frowning when he noticed he drank it all.

“I guess.” Louis mocked, smiling when Harry giggled and looked back up at him. “Go on, then. What’s it mean?”

Harry’s expression softened at the question, and his unspoken answer was interrupted by the flight attendant walking out of the now open door to the wind tunnel and announcing they were ready to board.

||

Louis was grumpy for several hours of the flight, and it was safe to say that, from an outsider’s perspective obviously, he was also a little jealous.

After failing to receive the translation for whatever the hell was said to him in such confidence and no one reverting back to that conversation, he was warned that he’d be left to his own devices if the grumpiness continued. And it did, of course. That was part of his charm — the stubbornness and slight need for attention. However, it left him having to fend for himself in terms of affection and entertainment because true to his word, Harry left their very amateur sky fort consisting of only two blankets and three pillows, and went to spend time with the others closer to the front. It was horribly rude, but he was essentially in a timeout? Which, by the way, was very offensive because he was not a child.

He sat in a huff until the leftover fatigue from being up so early came upon him an hour or so into the steady carry of the air, and he’d imitated Harry in the worst way imaginable under his breath before copping one of the throws and putting his head down. When he woke up at least three hours later, there were still lively voices sounding from ahead with no sight of Harry sitting across from him. And it non-admittedly watered the seed of envy planted in Louis’ chest the first moment his friends truly started growing closer to Harry.

Because sitting several rows away while he was drifting off was his maybe-boyfriend — which he really needed to talk to Harry about before he went insane trying to piece whether the boy was just using the term to help the point of analogy or not — laughing it up with all the other guys in the band and Josh. He woke up to the honking cackle he knew to be Harry and frowned from his bundled spot on the reclined airline seat, because what? Louis hadn’t heard him make that sound once around anyone else but him. Well, okay, maybe they weren’t together twenty four-seven during these days off, so he didn’t exactly know if that fact rang true. But it counted. It did. And while he really loved how well everyone got on, another part of him was disappointed he wasn’t the sole reason such a goofy yet endearing sound came out of his boy’s mouth.

Nevertheless, that was when he hiked the mini duvet over his shoulders and marched his way over to announce his presence by sitting in Harry’s lap. He was drowned in the expected teasing and cat analogies, though found that he didn’t care once he felt arms snake around his waist underneath the comforter, two hands linking together to hold him in a more comfortable position.

He remained glued to the security’s side as much as he could between when they finally landed over ten hours later and the moment everyone was dressed up and heading to the venue for the show. He had two nights in Sydney before having to jet off to Italy. While his world tour for ‘Walls’ was ending, he had teased a new album and finally reached the point of promotional events and countless interviews after a mishap with a shop and delivery service online. The company accidentally released the album for pre-order, which gave everyone the final tracklist and had fans attempting to reel from the excitement. It may have pushed up how soon things were going to happen and be announced, but he didn’t mind. He only had these two shows, a festival in Italy and a separate show afterwards before the tour ended, and he was more than ready to officially get the ball rolling for new music. These tracks were more him than anything else; the melodies, the genre, the style, the words. He laid a lot out in the songs, and he was always game to be as open as he could with his fans, so he couldn’t wait for them to hear.

In the meantime, however, he had a rambunctious crowd already geared up and screaming themselves silly when the lights got turned out everywhere but the stage. He bounced around on the balls of his feet and stretched his legs out as the band made their way onto the platform towards their respective instruments, Michael wasting no time in starting off ‘We Made It’ with his guitar, the vocalists joining together for the repetitive yeah yeah yeah-ah during the long introduction to the track. If Louis peeked over just a little he’d be able to see Harry standing just in front of the corner where Isaac played, keeping an eye on the very excitable crowd but sharing smiles with the boys when he turned to watch them. And though he wouldn’t be able to see him too well with the lights flooding the stage or the glare of them bouncing off the back of the cell phones, he was there. He was there, and not as an obstacle, but as someone he quickly came to care for rather greatly. Who made him smile and feel wanted and giggle (of all fucking things) and like he carried the whole world in his right hand when their fingers interlocked. Knowing Harry was there as more than a temporary person only hired for a couple of nights to stand watch on the crowd filled him with a newfound confidence, and when it came time for him to walk onstage and sing the next few songs, his smile was more blinding than it was all tour. Especially when he reached the microphone and was just barely able to catch Harry’s head snapping back towards the screaming audience with a close lipped smile that still displayed the deepest dimple.

“Sydney, Australia! Let me take a look at you lot.” He shouted through the mic, removing it from its stand so he could begin the first talking point of the night, taking a few steps to his left so the spotlight up ahead wasn’t in his direct line of sight. He looked over the countless faces, flags and signs, sounds dying down so they could all listen to his usual spiel. While he did stick to the introductory speech of all his performances, he did something he never did. He addressed the signs. And yes, he acknowledged and reacted to the ones he was able to read from where he stood, but not once did he ever stop in the middle of his speeches and call people out. Except he saw one or two that caught his eye from the first several rows, including a decently sized flag hanging from a balcony that possessed one of many candid photos of a certain couple, and he just had to say something. “‘ve been wondering.. anyone know a curly lad named Harry Styles? ‘Bout this tall, nice little body, wrangled me like a fucking four year old a few weeks ago?” The screams returned louder than before and he laughed when he noticed how many of them were gesturing towards a now red faced security guard with wide eyes as he turned to look towards Louis, mouthing the words ‘nice little body’ with shock swimming across his features.

“Him, yes.” Louis smiled, nodding. He lifted his free arm to point directly at the flag above the ground, gesturing towards it with a flick of his wrist so everyone would know what he was referencing. “Is that a fucking photo of us up there? You’ve all been busy, haven’t you?”

It was an extremely loud chorus of collective agreement that transitioned into more screams after his next statement. “Might need to ask you for that. Hope you don’t mind passing it off.”

“Might want to ease up a bit there. Poor H’s gone still as a statue.” Isaac piped in, grinning down at the man gaping like a fish out of water in front of him while the comment — followed by Harry’s shove off, Isa and an eye roll —  brought on a brand new wave of cheers and shouts, no doubt caused by how friendly the interaction was.

“Give the poor man a break, Lou. He’s been stuck with us for three weeks.” Steve’s voice carried from the back where he sat behind his drum kit, sparking murmurs amongst the surely confused noise as the boys were taking up time having a normal conversation. They probably should have been throwing themselves the next piece of the set by now.

Louis nodded, though, because wow was that man’s face the brightest shade of red he’d seen it these past days. “Alright, alright. Let me get to it so we can get on with the show.” He was admittedly a little amused but knew his photographer wasn’t one for too much attention unless asked for, so he agreed with himself to make what might have been a rather pointless announcement. “Mexico led to a pretty interesting night. Details aren’t important,” he waved off the few questioning expressions he noticed, “but we did snag ourselves a new mate and crew member. So if you lot could give Harold over here the biggest fucking welcome you’ve got in you, maybe we could reanimate him before the night’s over.”

Just as quickly as they always seemed to quiet themselves when it was time for Louis to speak rather than sing, the crowd practically erupted the way a volcano would after being dormant for over a decade. The enclosed space rang with hollers, shouts and fucking barking (copious amounts of it, mind) that did nothing but leave the band drowning in their own laughter from underneath the stage lights. The blue eyed artist could see the wavy brunette on the floor, shoulders shaking while he choked on a laugh, ultimately lifting one of his arms so he could pump a fist in the air and bark with the fans. It drove the sea of people wild regardless of how much time it was all taking up, and while Louis enjoyed finding clubs to hang at post-concert before any of them closed, he found that he didn’t care if this show ran long either. His boy was brought back from a state of shock and surprise only to encourage the behavior happening before them, clearly no care for who was recording him or that he will most definitely end up going viral again.

When Louis soon jumped back into belting the words to his songs without much warning, no one batted an eye or lost their momentum, only ceasing the rowdy chants and replacing gibberish filled shrieks with screaming the lyrics right back at him. He couldn’t stop himself from heading over to the left of the space more than the other areas when he realized Harry knew the words to not just his own work but the covers, as well. Every time he glanced over and the man had eyes trained on the performance, he was able to see past the lights and briefly watch his lips move in time with his, and by the time it came for him to drop himself onto the ground to rush barricade, he was practically buzzing with an energy higher than the past few shows combined.

Calling it a sight to behold was the only way anyone would have ever been able to describe how the event during ‘Kill My Mind’ went. Opposed to the first bout of chaos that third night in Mexico City, there was no hiding the massive ear-to-ear grin on Louis’ face each time it was Harry behind him when he’d run down the fencing or step onto the metal steps to lean into the stretched out limbs reaching for him. It was rather blush-making how easy it was telling the difference between Harry pulling at his shirt or one of his team. A sort of discreet gentleness snuck into the way he’d pull him back by the shoulder or tug the back of his top or grab onto his elbow when he evidently tripped trying to hop onto another one of the silver platforms. Louis was sweaty, a bit tired, and definitely did not let up on the amount of wriggling around he’d done any time someone managed to grab onto his waist. His barrel rolls and evasion of security were ever present regardless of the change between him and Harry, and honestly, it made it more of a grand time for him. Because they managed to catch one another’s gaze throughout the ordeal before he raced back onstage, and in each little moment he could see just how much the boy glowed alongside him. Harry was breathless and grinning and giggling at fans here and there who called out to him while he chased Louis with the rest and glowing, all by doing the thing that had them start out with such a neutral and apprehensive first impression. Only this time they both fed off of each other’s radiating energy, and by the time Louis inserted the microphone back into its stand, he was eager to sprint down the steps backstage to meet him.

He did have to take off the earpiece and wire first so they wouldn’t get damaged so he made sure to at least grab a couple of water bottles for the two of them from the mini fridge in the dressing room. He straightened up from collecting the drinks, colliding with exactly who he wanted to see, causing a breathy chuckle to bubble out of his throat when a hand caught the crook of his elbow to steady him. “Oops.”

“Hi.” Harry smiled, gesturing down towards the plastic bottles in Louis’ hands, “Either of them for me?”

“Maybe.” Louis shrugged. “Kisses first, and then I’ll give you the water.”

“Ah, I see what you’re doing.” Harry nodded minutely. “I can definitely do that.” He replied, Louis’ face splitting into a beaming smile that matched the dimpled one being aimed at him.

He tossed the bottles on the small sofa, leaning up only slightly after wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, large hands already holding onto his waist as their lips met. All Louis could taste when Harry swiped his tongue across his bottom lip to deepen the kiss was sweat and the unsurprising addition of fruit flavored gum.

Louis was perfectly content staying in a moment like this for as long as possible. At the same time he also realized he’d love sharing more of them in the days to come. He loved coming offstage tonight on a high from both performing with his friends and knowing he finally had a significant other who was not only by his side but was just as ecstatic to see him doing what he loved and fully support it because Louis loved it. He didn’t find that at all in past potential relationships, which had put him off of dating for a good while. And experiencing that so deeply in someone after just three weeks and three dates still without a proper label to them was more than he could have asked for. And he wanted a label, he did, because when he thought about introducing Harry to people if they stayed together down the line, he knew he wanted a proper term to be able to use instead of saying he works with them.

His thoughts were running miles a minute, one trying to overlap the other and others jumbling around, and once the couple pulled away from their post-show makeout, he decided right then he would ask about the use of the term ‘boyfriend’ from yesterday morning that he’d failed to sneak into conversation beforehand. He cleared his throat, looking up into a bright, dilated gaze. “Harry?”

“Yeah?” Harry’s eyes tracked his features, “You alright?”

Louis rolled his eyes with a smile. Always ready to be concerned, that one. “M’alright. Had a question, is all.”

Harry nodded, giving the older man his full attention as if he didn’t have it before, and for a moment Louis lost his nerve. Because he was a closet romantic who used to daydream too far and thought maybe it was too soon to slap that word on them, let alone ask what they were in general. But Harry’s eyebrows were furrowed now and that was not good for the boy who overthought so often, so Louis cleared his throat once more and loosened himself up.

And wouldn’t you know it, just as he got himself ready to bring it up, the band had swooped in with the worst timing in the world, greeting them while they hurried to fetch their own drinks after helping out with the instruments and cables. He felt Harry’s questioning gaze on him as he sparked small talks with his mates but waved it away, hoping Harry understood they’d talk about it later. Which he did, thankfully, and nodded with the lift of his lips before Isaac slung an arm around the man’s shoulders and brought up Rome as he turned the guard towards the door.

Harry seemed delighted to talk about it again and wasted no time answering whatever it was Isaac had told him, leaving Louis to hang back with the rest of the boys as his guitarist and his unlabeled-something got swept up in a chat about the gelato shop Harry mentioned before.

Chapter Text

It was a bit of a mistake, really, allowing Louis to take the reins today. Although, it was his turn to plan the date.

After Harry brought Louis out into the countryside to have a starlight picnic for their second date, they agreed to alternate who was in charge of the plans for each outing. Because Louis complained about Harry somehow knowing he was a hopeless romantic in hiding, to which Harry retorted that such a trait wasn’t fair to have because then he’d never top the dates Louis planned, and so the agreement was born. A fraction so they could try to one up each other, mostly so they can figure out more about each other through the chosen places and activities.

And herein lies the problem.

Because as much as Harry adored the childish spirit living within the thirty year old, the mischievous glint in the man’s eye when he was reminded they have a free day before flying out to Rome had him a little scared. Which he had a right to be, as later on in one of their connected hotel rooms, when they were watching Finding Nemo much to Harry’s pleasure, Louis suddenly shot up from his position against Harry’s chest and bounced in place as he scrolled down something colorful on his phone. “Dreamworld!” Truthfully, Harry was a little offended he hadn’t been paying attention to the film, but curiosity won out at the sudden giddiness.

“What?”

“Dreamworld.” Louis grinned, looking over at Harry with a thrill of excitement already shining in his gaze. “It’s the number one theme park on the Gold Coast — least that’s what all the sites say — and that’s where our date will be. Look.” He practically shoved his phone in Harry’s hands, knocking the remote to the floor in the process.

So he looked. He looked at the bright colors of the official website of the park. He looked at the smiling faces of the people in the photographs. He looked at, and paid extra attention to, the fact that the page was open to the thrill rides specifically. The ones that shot you at the fucking least , eighty feet in the air just to drop you down the same distance and toss you around like a rag doll while you hung onto the bars for dear life because you couldn’t be absolutely sure they were as secure as they led on. And yeah, maybe that was just Harry’s nerves talking. But so long as he didn’t feel like throwing up, he’d be fine. Thankfully the mess of thoughts weren’t visible because to his boyfriend (which they were able to talk about, and were both overjoyed with using the word), it seemed as if he was simply just observing. “I think we should try the newest one.” Louis continued. “It has three launches, four inversions and these seats at the end of the train that spins around.”

“How, uh. How far up does it take you?”

“Says thirty nine meters– oh! Let’s watch the video here.” Louis was far too excited for this, but the excitement was adorable, so Harry could only agree and watch as he started the YouTube video titled STEEL TAIPAN OFFICIAL POV REVEAL, allowing viewers to get a glimpse of what the experience would be like. And it was just a video. They even slowed down the speed so whoever watched could see the tracks, but then Louis played the second video that was made from the perspective of sitting in the 360 chairs, and Harry felt his head spin just at the sight of it on the screen. He couldn’t even imagine what he’d be like if he actually did have to go on it. “Doesn’t look too bad, does it? Think it might be a fun ride.”

Harry swallowed his nerves and gave Louis the brightest smile he could muster. “Yeah, it looks fun.”

||

Okay, admittedly, maybe he should have told Louis about his fear of roller coasters before they left. Or on the drive over. Or when they were in the parking lot. Or somewhere between them walking to the ticket gate and being greeted by a small group of fans when they got through security.

Though he chose to use it as a distraction, the fans already crowding around before they were even ten yards in, and he thought it was a fair one. Because there had been a significant increase in his following on social media since their last outing back in London had made headlines, painting the singer as lovestruck and him as star struck, which led to a short argument because Harry didn’t even care about the celebrity status. He liked Louis , not Louis Tomlinson, and he hated immediately being painted in that light just because he wasn’t a big name in the world like his boyfriend. It took an hour and a half for him to relax enough for Louis to talk to and reassure him, and that was after an agonizingly silent dinner where Harry stabbed haughtily at his food and Louis watched him warily between bites.

Things have only escalated since then, with candid photographs of them together or of Louis leaving Harry’s house during that second week ending up spread across the internet. Almost every tabloid was questioning whether Louis’ finally decided to settle down or if Harry was just going to be another fail, and it was hard keeping so much of how it made him feel to himself. Which he started doing so Louis wouldn’t worry about him, but now that they were clearly at the stage where everyone knew their location and some people didn’t give them the same courtesy of being left alone as others, he started to think maybe he should have been honest. About the way everything was starting to effect him and the roller coaster. Because apparently the thirty minute delay they gained from stopping to say hi, sign some phone cases and take pictures did not deter Louis from the task at hand.

He linked himself to Harry as soon as there was a clear pathway out of the crowd, keeping a firm grip on the younger man’s hand without a care as to how many eyes were on them. Harry had no intention to protest or let go, giving Louis a gentle squeeze as they embarked further into the park. He’d hoped it would be a slow transition from walking around and playing games before the big moment came, but no such luck, as the guard found himself standing in line for the tallest ride he had personally ever seen in his life. And it seemed to be too late, you see, for him to back out. Because they were there, and another obvious crowd of fans were keeping their distance but still surrounding them (no doubt waiting for after the couple’s turn on the coaster finished), and Louis was just so excited. He was bouncing on his toes, still holding onto Harry, and his eyes were brighter than before now that they were here. He wouldn’t dare tell his boyfriend he wanted out, especially since he knew Louis would just as easily sit down somewhere if he was aware of Harry’s discourse.

So Harry sucked it up, and talked the experience down to not being as bad as it looked as they slowly inched their way up the line, having to turn down offers to skip the queue because neither of them wanted special treatment. He could’ve sworn he blacked out the second they were finally in the cars and fastened to the seats, because the next thing he knew he was rushing towards the nearest bathroom — there was no way he was going to throw up in a rubbish bin — and shoving open a stall, falling to his knees so his stomach could empty of what hadn’t been fully digested from dinner the night before. He heard footsteps stop outside the swinging door and felt a light makeshift breeze from it being swung back open that made him shiver. “Shit, Harry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fantastic.” Harry groaned, placing the side of his against the arm laying across the toilet seat. “Just need a minute.”

“A minute ?” Louis sounded like Harry had said something ridiculous. “Love, you look fucking wrecked.” His eyes were closed to keep out the fluorescent lights for as long as possible, but he heard the process of Louis dropping to the ground as well before a gentle hand was placed on his back, the man’s palm instantly rubbing circles in a soothing motion. When Harry opened his eyes and shot a squinted glare at him, Louis winced. “Sorry. But you do look ill. How long have you been sick?”

“S’not.. I’m not sick.” Harry gulped, face scrunching at the nasty aftertaste granted by his inability to ride a roller coaster that only lasted about twenty seconds. He looked away from Louis, staring intently at the anchor above his wrist instead. He was embarrassed at having such a fear, especially to this degree, at the age he was; his voice came out scratchy and quiet. “M’afraid of roller coasters.” He mumbled.

But, it was surprisingly just the two of them in the restroom of a packed amusement park, and they were huddled together, so of course Louis was going to hear him and parrot it. “You’re afraid of roller coasters.”

It wasn’t a question, and the lack of anything but surprise made Harry a bit anxious, if he was being honest. Nonetheless, he looked up to make eye contact anyway, only to find nothing but confusion on the man’s face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were so excited. I didn’t have the heart.” Harry sighed and shifted so he was leaning more on Louis, the hand on his back turning into an arm around his shoulder. “It’s dumb, anyway. What twenty-eight year old is scared of a kid’s ride?”

“Hmm.” Louis weighed his head in thought, “Not a kid’s ride, really.”

“Well I don’t see the ones sat in front of us losing their dinner in a stall.”

“Guess not.” Louis eyed his boyfriend, lips pursed as he contemplated before speaking again. “Zak’s scared of eggs.”

“What?”

“Not the eggs themselves. When he was a little lad, his primary class went on a trip to a farm. They got to see a chick hatch and all but the poor boy didn’t know the difference between those eggs and the ones we buy at the shop. And then when he did, he still refused to eat them in case one happened to be mixed in with the crowd and would turn into a chick when someone tried to cook it. Kind of stuck with him after childhood, and now he’s scared of ‘em. Or, more the concept, really. Can’t even eat ‘em when they’re already cooked.”

Harry looked at Louis like he grew another head, eyebrows scrunched together. “What are you on about?”

Louis chuckled, sliding his arms down to go around Harry’s waist as he silently advised they get him off the floor. “You’ve got this idea that what you’re scared of is embarrassing. M’just showing you there are all kinds of fears, even at our age.”

“What’s one of yours, then?”

“Ah. Well – hop up, please.” Louis tacked on, hands on both sides of Harry’s waist as he did what was asked and went to sit on the granite countertop. He watched Louis maneuver around the space, ripping out way more than several pieces of paper towels from the dispenser and placing them next to the sink that the younger one was sitting beside. “I need you to think I’m invincible, Harold. S’part of my charm.”

“Didn’t you break your arm this summer?”

Louis cut him a glare that did nothing to intimidate due to the softness behind his expression while continuing to tend to the still slightly nauseous date, folding the towels together to wet them with cold water. He stepped back in front of Harry, placing himself between his knees and immediately running them over Harry’s forehead and cheeks to cool him down. “Just don’t tell Zak I told you.”

When their eyes met, he gave him a small grin. “I’m definitely going to tell him.” Harry cocked his head, eyes tracing the features on his scruffed face when he dabbed the corners of his mouth. “I feel like a baby.”

“Well, you are my baby. ‘ve gotta make sure you’re good to go.” Louis grinned, kissing Harry’s cheek (that evidently became more flushed at the endearment and affection) before going to toss out the used pile of paper towels. He set his hands to replace the air around the boy’s slim waist, hoisting him with ease back onto the ground that was only four inches off from where a pair of blue checkered Vans hung. He then placed them on his hips and did a once over to ensure the sight of paleness was gone for sure. “Can you eat anything? Or maybe just a drink will do? We could go back to the hotel, as well.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Harry shook his head, covering Louis’ mouth with one hand and taking one of his tattooed wrists with the other to prevent any more rambling questions. “You’ve been practically bouncing since you found the website for this place. I’m fine, promise.” Harry looked at his partner pleadingly, wanting nothing more than to just continue their day even if he still had a bit more time before he’d physically feel up to more rides.

It took two more minutes of Louis fussing over him and an interruption of someone else finally entering the toilet only to pause and look them over with an instant spark of recognition before he’d agreed to keep on exploring the park. They intertwined their fingers again, because of course, and managed to avoid a miniature mob no doubt waiting for a chance to catch them leaving the facilities across the walkway, Louis feeling only a little bad, though one squeeze from Harry pushed away the small nidge of guilt. He absolutely adored the community that’s come up since starting his career — all the projects and fundraisers and events and relationship building, and he’s told Harry as much during one of their late night talks — but it was hard, going out to relax only to be stopped often for photos and autographs. He adored everyone who supported him, his music, the people he kept, though he could do without disruption when simply just wanting to go on a date with someone he actually liked. It took just one ask of a picture for his mood to be shot during a day in the town, and he wanted to avoid that today.

||

It was so nice while it lasted, the peacefulness that decided to tag along when they emerged from the surprisingly empty space of the tiled restroom over two hours ago.

Harry could practically feel the eyes on them when the pair would be speed walking from one cluster of older looking tourists to another, wanting to stay as hidden as possible within the number one amusement park in Australia, despite knowing there was an extremely high possibility of running into teenagers. There seemed to be a better understanding from the ones that looked to be closer to his own age when he accidentally locked eyes with a group of friends, who clearly noticed them nestled in beside an elderly couple who felt inclined to indulge Louis on young love. They’d only grinned at him, waved and went on their way while chatting even more excitedly than before. He’d zoned back into the conversation just in time for the new topic of where the older couple was headed, the area they called Tiger Island where, just as the name directly implied, it homed giant cats with whom guests could feed and get up close with through specially built tunnels and rooms, and it snagged the taller boy like a fish on a hook. He had to go see the tigers, refusing to do anything else until he did, and he’d told Louis exactly that. So off they went, ready to venture to the other end of the giant attraction aboard a small train that carried guests over from one destination of the park to the next.

The only issue was how many pit stops needed to be made before reaching the starter point of the little locomotive, which naturally, led to the situation they found themselves in. Emerging from one group only to suddenly find themselves surrounded by a barrage of cameras and raised voices and people calling his own name along with Louis’ — Harry how does it feel to be dating a celebrity and Louis show us your new arm candy and Harry show us a smile and Louis just one photo, Louis come chat for a bit, Louis is this one going to last. No regard for personal space even with the three times one would immediately try to drag the other through the humanly enclosed circle, grips on each other tighter than they’ve been all day, and Harry found himself falling into the words from the multiple headlines and media posts being parroted at him. He’d barely begun feeling better after they came across a stand with the coldest water possible because Louis took nothing less when it came to his partner, and now the things he was using to distract himself were now right there in front of him. Asking Louis if he was another future relationship failure, another check off the list of suitors, another way to relieve the stress of being who he is. Harry refused to answer absurd questions and was careful not to say anything they could twist around because Louis told him what it would be like after their argument. And it was quickly becoming too much, as one should expect when surrounded by paparazzi in the middle of a place that was already crawling with tourists and locals and fans. 

His insides were stirring, the flashes were blinding as if the sun had sent down balls of light to confront him, and as much push as Louis was giving, there was still a flurry of overlapping questions and pointless commentary that made it clear this was just to rile his boyfriend up for money-worthy content. He really just wanted to have a nice day. No childish fear, no nausea, no having to be taken care of because he couldn’t handle it, and definitely no harassment. Because that’s what this was. The couple wasn’t being given any space to leave after attempting to do so and he could practically feel everyone else watching the commotion, could vaguely hear anyone else when people were trying to help the situation. He was beginning to get a headache on top of everything else. The shouts and cameras and reporters were still buzzing with obnoxious energy and he again looked to Louis for guidance the same time Louis looked to him. “Are you alright?” He could see the anxiety and concern overflowing in his eyes that surely reflected in his own; he wanted to reassure him that he was okay.

He went to speak at the same moment someone placed a hand on Louis’ shoulder, effectively turning him away in order to ensure they were the focus of attention so they could get a story.

And Harry.. Harry liked to believe he was a pacifist, and he was. He absolutely was. He believed in killing with kindness and being the bigger person and not allowing anyone’s words to sink in so much it felt like pins and needles penetrating his skin. But then this happened. He saw someone touch Louis, not unlike back in Mexico City in taking control of what was going on, and he’d bypassed it all. Broke through his usual sweet, thoughtful demeanor at the sight of a stranger’s fingers curling around Louis’ shoulder and demanding attention away from him in a fit of needing photos and commentary that could be sold for a good price. He couldn’t care less anymore what was going to be said about him or how it would look to fans or the public. The irritation was immediate, as quick as it came at the wedding, and before anyone else could say anything he found himself pulling Louis back from the hold the man still had on his arm. He pushed himself into the paparazzi’s personal bubble. “Don’t touch him.” Tone sharp, eyes hard, lip curled into a warning scowl.

“Harry. Don’t.” Louis warned. He wasn’t as attuned to this side of his partner having only seen it once in full swing at that party and briefly when he was frustrated about the articles being written, and Harry was aware of that. Didn’t really want Louis to see that side unless he was working and the situation called for it, but here they were. Supposed to be out on a date, enjoying their last free day together before Louis has to go to Italy for a week of promos before his last two tour performances, and the situation has indeed called for it.

“Got a guard dog, did you, Louis? Does he bite as well?”

“Do you want to find out?” Harry growled, the scowl turning into a snarl. He could see discomfort flash across the face of the unnamed man. Could feel more free air entering his space as most of them finally got good sense to back off, their voices gone or fading as they moved away from the circle. “He’s asked you to leave him alone, hasn’t he? So leave him alone. Or are you waiting for someone to make you?”

“Harry.” Louis stressed, and he felt a hand wrap around his bicep, a gentle yet tightening hold that told him he had to stop. “Don’t cause a scene, please. Just let it go. I’m fine.”

Harry ignored him, only imagining someone in Louis’ space when he didn’t want them to be, glaring daggers at the man who now has a camera directly in Harry’s face.

“Is this the company you’re keeping now? He seems to be a bit short-tempered, huh.”

And he could have avoided it, honestly, if he just let Louis’ voice sink in and didn’t listen to the one mocking him without even speaking to him directly. As if he wasn’t even there. As if he was just a wall in the way of conversation. Really, all he wanted to do at that moment was knock something out, and so several things happened at once.

Harry did indeed knock something out, though it had buttons and a detachable lens that broke when it came in contact with the cement;

There was a collective gasp and wave of loud chatter heard from outside the dying circle of profit-seeking people;

The small handful of paparazzi who stayed for the confrontation got everything on film while the main instigator’s face became red as can be. Out of anger or embarrassment or spooked nerves or a mix of the three, who knew;

Profanities were being thrown in his own rose colored face and Louis had a hold of his arm just as he was pulling back to punch the cameraman (or shove him, the difference wasn’t really important;

And he couldn’t breathe.

Harry couldn’t fucking breathe.

His head hurt, his chest was heaving, he felt warm, and someone was pulling him roughly by the arm. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were going but even though the voices were getting quieter on the outside, they were still in his head. Hurling insults and calling after Louis like he owed them something. He could barely make out the shapes in front of him, a dark vignette bordering his vision while the rest were in a naturally discolored filter of blurred movement. Ten minutes went by — or maybe an hour? It was hard to tell — before the person pulling him sat him down on something too hot to actually sit on. But it wasn’t like he could complain. He wasn’t exactly in the right headspace and the vignette turned into black dots and he was becoming aware of a voice. A familiar one, thank god, once his ears honed back in on the sounds around him. “H, come on. You need to breathe, love.” 

He could feel the person take one of his hands and lead it to what felt like a shirt, the material soft, the familiarity of the jumper and the way his hand was being held already soothing him. It took three attempts of matching the rise and fall of the person’s chest before he was actually able to, and he blinked rapidly because once his breathing was normal and the vignette faded (allowing him to finally see Louis properly), his eyes welled up, and he was not going to cry. He refused to cry on top of everything else.

Louis took his own deep inhale before sighing in relief at the sight of Harry calming down, though it quickly switched to a concerned noise in the back of his throat. He took a step forward and parted Harry’s knees in order to stand between them, placing his hands on the boy’s cheeks to tilt up his face and place a short, reassuring kiss on his lips. Louis studied the younger man’s face before letting out another breath, leaning down to press their foreheads together. “What were you thinking back there? Anything could’ve happened.”

Harry reeled back, causing Louis to straighten up so he could look at the pointed stare he was receiving properly. “Anything did happen, Louis. Didn’t you hear what they were saying? You’ve told me I talk some shit, but they talk some shit. It was terrible what they said to you.”

“Me?” Louis’ tone was incredulous, unable to defer why there was no concern for Harry when most of the words were aimed at the hobby photographer’s character.

“Well, obviously, they haven’t thought very highly of me. And why would they?” Harry tacked on, feeling out of his depth and unlike himself and like he just wanted to go home. “M’just a guard dog, right?” He shrugged, looking off to the side.

Louis’ face scrunched up at the dismissive tone, not knowing exactly how to deal with the situation in the best possible way but horrified how much to heart it was all being taken. Harry was a beautiful person, everyone who really knew him was aware of that. “You’re protective, H – always have been from what I hear. S’not a bad thing.”

“Seems like it is.” Harry chuckled dryly, grabbing for Louis’ waist so he could rest his head against his stomach, “M’sorry for ruining our date. If I just told you about the roller coaster thing, we could’ve avoided this.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Was a bit thrilling, actually.” Harry only hummed at the joke, prompting Louis to place a chaste kiss on the top of his head and rub his back soothingly. “Let’s head back to the hotel for now, yeah?”

“Okay.” Louis smiled softly, raking his fingers through the loose curls laid against his torso as Harry took deep, rhythmic breaths to keep himself as centered as possible.

It was tiring, was the thing — dating a celebrity. He figured it would take a while before rumors or accusations began circulating around the internet, but their several outings were far too public and the fans had taken to them immediately, very quickly sharing their love and support online. And while it was moving to see knowing the track record for media in general, the negative connotations with this type relationship overpowered the positivity, snaking its way around his mind and slithering over the loyalty of others to shied it from view. It had only been three weeks. Barely a month. Harry was aware this was just part of the process of acceptance as a couple. Shawn did his best in explaining things when he was back home, talking about how excessive the amount of articles and close-minded opinions were at the start but that they winded down over course. The family built from the artist always won out in the end, he was told, as they never let anyone speak ill of the idol or the people in their lives who made them happy and were good for them. And Harry thought he was good for Louis, especially seeing all the love they received without even an official we-are-boyfriends statement, but was he?

He was from just a small village in Cheshire, he was doing nothing with his Photography degree, he was very eccentric and maybe a bit odd, his clothing was sometimes more than people could handle, and let’s face it, he was a very emotional person. Wore his heart on his sleeve — was praised for it here and there because it meant he was a genuine soul (or at least that’s what the people in Anne’s book club said) — but maybe that, too, wasn’t as good a thing as he thought. His feelings were always put out there without holding back unless it was going to hurt someone’s feelings, and even if he did, then it was gently so the blow wasn’t so bad. But if someone he cared for was in a situation that negated comfort and kindness and genuineness, it was hard to be anything but fiercely protective. Now, however, that vigilance seemed to be what those reporters were using to make their headlines, and he felt horrible.

He didn’t say anything, though. Not until after Louis flagged down a security officer and the woman led them through an employee entrance and escorted them back to their parking spot. Not until they were alone and sitting in the car and the weight returned after the situation settled back onto his shoulders. “Louis?”

“Yeah, love, what’s up? You still feeling a bit peaky?” He asked, a crease between his eyebrows when he took one look at Harry’s timid demeanor.

“No, I just..” Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for only a moment to get his bearings together. He glanced over to see concern very much etched on Louis’ face and swallowed, forcing the words before he chickened out and eventually just let the issue settle in himself without dealing with it. “I just don’t know if it’s worth it.. You being with me.”

“You... what?”

Their eyes locked and he wanted to take it back, the concern changing to confusion and sadness. “It’s not that I don’t want to be together. You make me really happy, you know? More than ever.” He bit his lip, refusing to break eye contact until he said everything. “It’s just a lot, Louis. I’ve never had people keeping tabs on me or thinking I was capable of doing such horrible things, like using you for attention and everything. And, and you said I was protective, yeah? But that’s the second time I’ve nearly hit someone in three weeks, and this time it was someone that could hurt you and your career depending on what he says. If we’re together than you’re just going to be the one dating the man with anger issues, and you don’t deserve that—”

“You don’t deserve that.” Louis interrupted, his tone sharp and defensive, cerulean now an icy blue. “As much as I hate the word, I am a celebrity. Things are said about me regardless of who I’m with or what I do. What shouldn’t be okay is you being put through the ringer for caring about me, and it’s fucking mental that you seem to agree with what they’ve said about you.”

“It’s not that.” Harry said meekly, unable to come up with more coherently opposing words.

“It is that.” Louis snapped, his expression and voice softening at the sight of Harry wincing, the frown on the boy’s face only growing. Louis sighed, turning back to face the windshield and resting his head against the seat. “Let’s just get back, and we can talk properly there. Okay?”

Harry eyed him as he finally put the car in ignition, not wanting to stir the pot anymore while the older man had to focus on the drive rather than this. Though he admitted to himself in that moment he should have waited until they were already in their rooms. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Thursday, 6:37 PM

“Alright, let me see if I’ve got it.” Louis paced the hotel room for a few more moments as Harry sat on the musician’s bed, legs folded together in a pretzel as he watched the older man process everything from the talk they’d just finished. Or, possibly finished. Neither of them were quite sure. Although Louis moving about in such a way was bound to stir something up. “You,” Louis suddenly stopped beside the large window, palms pressing together as he pointed them in Harry’s direction, “want to break up when we’ve just become official.”

“That is not what I said.” Harry sighed. It was the fifth time and the fifth variation of the question Louis had asked him since they got back from the amusement park.

The car ride was quiet save for the quiet humming along of Harry’s to classic rock songs once the radio was turned on, and it did manage to soothe Louis enough to loosen the grip on the steering wheel. Did his usual of making sure to get out of the car first so he could open the passenger for Harry, as he did every time they were sharing a vehicle, which earned a pink-cheeked but almost inaudible thank you. So, if he was being honest, he took it as a pretty good sign that the younger man’s mind had changed. But then they got to the elevator and he noticed a slight but noticeable strain to Harry’s shoulders that indicated he was tensing up once again.

Now, well, he wasn’t sure what to do.

It was obvious they were going rather fast. The relationship met the traits of a whirlwind romance, and as those tropes always did when making a play outside of film and literature, they captured the attention of the public far sooner than the average timeline. He knew it would be hard. It always was no matter if it was one date or one year. Even after years of him being out about his sexuality, it seemed it was still such a spectacle to some. He figured all the dates with other men since the band he was in parted ways when he was twenty-five would have had everyone accustomed to who he was. More so when releasing an album with an ending track titled Only the Brave purposed around love that went against society’s norm and catered to himself and the rest of the LGBTQ+ community. Yet here he was, five years and many, many articles nosing into his love life later, having to navigate himself and an actual boyfriend through the growing pit of emotional hell.

“Bullshit. That’s exactly what you said in the car.” Louis narrowed his eyes, flicking his gaze away before he could see how Harry nervously started to pick at the colored polish adorning his nails. He opted to take a seat on the couch because doing so on the same bed would’ve melted his demeanor into something soft, and he had to remain stern in order for the conversation to move forward with real resolve in the end. He had his elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him, head down to avoid anywhere but the carpet. “You said it wasn’t worth it, Harry. And I don’t give a fuck what some reporter has to say about me. All they want is a story, and if one isn’t handed to them, they make shit up for some pounds. You are not responsible for any of it, nor do you deserve it. It could have been any other person with me.” He heard the sharp inhale and cursed himself mentally, “It wasn’t anyone else because you’re who I want, but that doesn’t matter to these vultures. And I get it.”

“You don’t.” He looked up to find Harry staring at him, a creased line forming in the space between his eyebrows, fingers no longer picking at one another as he focused in on Louis. “You’re famous. People in your world deal with this all the time once you hit a certain level of status, and no one should have to live with that, with being watched so intensely and made the star of ridiculing stories just for some random bloke to have a payday. But you don’t know how it is when you’ve already never felt like enough.” His green eyes widened, and he shook his head rapidly. “Not that celebrities aren’t entitled to feeling that way. There’s tremendous pressure on all your ends. But do you have any idea what it’s like to be on my end? The stranger off the street who just happened to catch that person’s eye? And suddenly it’s that name being said like poison on their tongues and ice in their veins?”

“My friend’s had to hide his relationship for over a year now because his boyfriend isn’t allowed to share his true sexuality with everyone, and as much of a happy face he puts on, I know it still makes him miserable. And I’m so, so grateful it isn’t like that with us, believe me. But it’s barely been three weeks and they’re treating me like I don’t exist. Like I’m not on any of their social planes. Calling me those names and saying I’m with you for such selfish and disgusting reasons. It’s hard, and it hurts, and it’s been hurting since before we left home.” He ended shakily, taking his turn to avoid meeting the older man’s eye.

Louis was speechless, if he was being honest. It was an easy guess to make, that Harry was still troubled by what had been written about him when they were in London. He supposed he was just happy they got through their first fight. He’d never considered anything was being kept from him, though while they became very close very quickly, they’d still only known one another such a short while. And truly, it was a lot to wrap his head around. Validation on celebrities still being their normal selves while also never experiencing being on the side that was being explained to him.

“You said that..” He cleared his throat, shifting on the sofa until his entire body was on the cushions, mirroring the positing Harry sat in. There was something nagging at him the most amongst what he’d just heard. “You were more concerned for me than yourself at the park, but now it sounds as if that flip’s been switched.”

“Please don’t put words in my mouth, Louis.”

“No, but that’s what’s happening, innit?” His blue eyes snapped back up to what was now a cloudy green. “Your worries with the relationship being known to the media were tied more into my image than yours, and now it seems like you’re reconsidering even thinking that way.”

“I’m entitled to feeling more than one way about a situation.” Harry stated defensively, his lips pursed and eyes glassy. Louis really hoped this night would end in a hug rather than tears. “That man closed in on you more than the others did. He was trying to tear into you and then he touched you without your consent just to grab sole attention. Of course that was going to upset me more than being called... It was fair, being more attuned to what they’d say about you.”

“And now it’s not.”

It wasn’t a question, and that made Harry’s spine straighten, his eyes narrowing, tone frustrated. “What are you doing?”

Louis was taken aback by the sharp change. He searched the curly haired man’s face for a hopeful glimpse into his exterior. “M’not doing anything, Harry.”

“You’re twisting my words around. I never said it doesn’t matter anymore or that your feelings towards this don’t mean as much. Never said it was unfair, me being worried about you instead. M’just trying to convey that I’m valid in switching the point of view to myself for a bit. It’s a different—”

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s different. Just because no one cared to know who you were before me doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand.”

And Louis didn’t realize what he said. Not until Harry’s eyes grew twice their size, turning into a harsh glare, clouded jade turning into a dark emerald. His hands curled into fists as he shoved them in the pocket of his sweater, untangling his legs from their pretzeled mess and standing up from the bed. “Harry, wait.” Louis strained, shooting up from the sofa. Harry evaded the impending touch, slamming the door behind him, making Louis flinch.

He heard the sound of a click and sighed, pressing his back against the locked surface and sliding to the floor,  the door that joined their rooms closed for the first time since their arrival.

Friday, 7:18 AM

Louis woke up alone.

Roughly thrown back into consciousness by the blaring ringtone showcasing the chorus of Tissues by YUNGBLUD, suffering from the good cry he had after complete silence from his boyfriend, and alone.

He shouldn’t have expected to find tattooed arms loosely wrapped around his torso, or a head of curls tickling his cheek, or fruit scented shampoo filling his senses with each minuscule movement. It was his fault, really, for wording it the way he did. And so he came to from slumber with furrowed brows, a banging headache, and no Harry tucked into his side after leaving his own room to sleep together. He groaned when he slapped around the nightstand for his phone, the device still going off, and squinted at the bright screen amongst the curtain-dimmed room before answering the call. “What?”

“Harry’s gone.”

Louis was awake immediately, his head whipping in the direction of the adjoined door that was still closed and likely locked. “What d’you mean he’s gone?”

Isaac sighed on the other end of the line. “I mean the room is empty, his things are gone and he wasn’t anywhere downstairs. Reception says he left a couple hours ago.”

“A couple of– hold on, hold on. Let me get dressed, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Sure, mate. See you in the lobby.”

Once the call ended, Louis laid back down and spent a good five minutes staring at the blank of the white ceiling above him. There was a design carved into the surface, simple and intricate, of their state’s national flower, the golden wattle. A funny little name for something both beautiful and cute; just like his partner. Harry had found everything about it endearing, immediately looking them up on the internet after asking the concierge what they were and announcing to Louis that they were to spend their last day there picking some from the side of the road if it came down to it. The recent memory made him frown. Maybe if he’d indulged in that — in taking however long a trip it would be, whether a drive into town or a venture to a park somewhere — instead of getting himself worked up over an attraction they could have gone back to anytime. If he’d just remembered the way those rings of green brightened up at the prospect of going out solely to pick out some flowers. 

He sighed and forced himself out of the bed, heading to the ensuite to get ready properly because he was sure there would be no going back to sleep with the way his thoughts were already running a mile a minute. Harry left. Not just ‘went out to grab breakfast that included these smoothies he convinced Louis to try out so he’d have a healthy alternative in the mornings’ left. He packed his bags, most likely fixed up the hotel room to the best of his ability because he hated leaving a mess for the staff, probably went home. And that was what bothered Louis the most. What was coiling around every nerve to the brink of his head spinning as he brushed his teeth and combed through the fringe over his forehead. He’d gone without so much as a form of explanation. He’d gotten up at whatever time, put everything together, and walked out of the building without alerting any of them. If there was at least a text left for Louis to read that would’ve at least been a fraction better, but there wasn’t. No text, no missed call, no voicemail. Just silence.

He walked out of the bathroom and settled for just grabbing one of the hoodies strewn across the couch, shoving on his black Vans from by the door, snagging both a keycard for the room and copy of the master key he’d convinced someone to give him so he could pull off the few successful pranks he’d done. Pranks he couldn’t think about right now because he’d also done those with Harry; the man easily entertained and giggling quietly at each practical joke.

The door to room 1028 locked automatically, and Louis shot off a text to the group chat he was forced to join when the band first came together that he was going to check Harry’s room since he still had the master key in hand.

Zak still can’t believe they actually gave that to you, you little shit

Michael mate please get your revenge another time

Josh you two are horrible. let us know if he left anything, Tommo

There was no sign of anyone in the long hall, meaning maid service had either already gone through here after the security guard checked out or no one had been upstairs yet. Louis didn’t waste any time heading next door, pushing the piece of plastic against the scanner above the handle and pulling it away so the small light could turn green, allowing him inside. Correct to prior assumption, the space was indeed tidied up to the best of the younger man’s ability before having left the hotel, the only evidence of anyone staying there being the rubbish bin and rumpled look of the pillows and comforter set on the bed. Louis checked every corner and crevice to make sure nothing had fallen anywhere, hoping that there actually was a note and it’d just become lost within a slit between furniture or ended up in the trash, which he shamelessly rummaged through in case a message had been written then tossed away. And a crumpled message he found — two, actually — done up in Harry’s handwriting and scribbled out words.

Louis’ phone buzzed with an incoming message and he set on the floor beside his crouched figure. It wasn’t a proud thing, going through a small bin of trash in search of an answer, but he got the results he wanted. Nevertheless, he felt his chest tighten with guilt when he opened up the paper balls so he could read what was legible. The first one wasn’t much, just a list of flavors he thought everyone in the band would enjoy once they were able to visit the gelato shop, but it was organized by member. Because Harry was fully aware that while everyone was as close as can be and got along, everyone was a different person, so the sheet had each name in sharpie and the flavors in pen underneath each one, Louis’ name with the doodle of two hearts and a (even though he’ll eat mine) beside it. His boy was clearly more excited than he’d allowed himself to show over such a simple thing, his quirky self even creating a list with guesses that were surprisingly accurate.

The next one was addressed to him, the one with all the scribbles, a distinctive scrawl of his name at the top of the page:

Louis,

I had to go home.

It has nothing to do with you, though.

I’ll explain when I can.

Anything else Harry seemed to have written was lined over so thickly he couldn’t even make out one letter, the blacked out smudges of permanent marker covering most of the loose page, some ink bleeding into the back from how deep the use was. It didn’t give much away. Seemed it was an urgency that came upon him at such an early hour but, well, something a bit more than what was there would’ve been nice. Regardless if he really didn’t play into being a reason for his leave, they’d still left things unresolved. He was in the wrong, the way he said what he did without so much as a thought due to his frustration, and he wanted to apologize. But how in the hell would he do that if his boyfriend had already been gone for over two hours without a word? He wondered if Harry's plane had already taken off or if the boy was sitting in the waiting area because he was the type to show up three hours before a flight. Then again, if this was such an important reason that he’d left this way, then it made more sense to have gotten the soonest flight back home.

He spent a fair amount of time just sitting there, trying to decipher what could’ve possibly been written that Harry felt the need to so intensely cross out. Was he still mad? Did he also regret going to bed with the tension hanging in the air?

“Louis, mate, what the hell are you doing?”

Louis’ head whipped back to the door he’d left open when he entered, finding Isaac leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. He stood up from his spot, shoving the note in his pocket (he’ll show the lads later). “Thought maybe he left a note and threw it out.” Isaac stared at him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“You went through the rubbish bin? S’not a mystery novel we’re living in.”

“Well at least I found something, you shit.” He huffed out, presenting the list to the guitarist. He lightly shoved the man out of the way so they were both in the corridor, shutting the door and putting the master key in the pocket of his joggers. “Have you talked to him?”

“Talked to the receptionist.” Isaac replied, making small comments under his breath about the list Louis handed him, agreeing with flavors and saying how he hadn’t thought people would eat certain ones. He was looking up the shop on his phone by the time they got to the elevator to meet the rest of the guys. “Said he had to borrow the phone to call a cabbie because his was dead. It’s been a while, though, so he’s probably in the sky already. Left him a couple of messages for when he’s able to talk.” He looked up from his cell and looked over at Louis, who was quiet as he had his hands in his pocket, the second scrap of paper balled up again as he held it between his fingers. “You should, too. I don’t know what happened, and it isn’t my business, but just let him know you’re sorry.”

Louis narrowed his eyes then, immediately offended. “Why do you assume it was me?”

“Do I need to remind you how long we’ve all known you?” His friend snorted out. “You’ve got no filter sometimes, Tommo. S’usually not a problem but when you’re upset you say things you don’t mean.”

“You’ve got no filter.” Louis grumbled, unable to create a good comeback after being called out so bluntly. Regardless, he did take out his phone — ignoring the smug look from his right — to do what was strongly suggested. Or, well, to ask what happened and refer to the short message. There was no way he was going to apologize when they weren’t even in the same country. He pocketed the small device away when they reached the ground floor, heading towards the front where the rest of the band was waiting.

“Alright, lads!” Isaac clapped loudly, throwing a loose arm around Louis’ shoulder and shaking him lightly. “Tomlinson’s been retrieved, and we’ve got as much a handle on the situation as we can. So let’s head out and grab some brekkie before we head out for Italy.”

“Who made you the boss, Anderson?” Josh scoffed, disregarding how they all rose from their various positions of sitting or leaning against something to head over to the pair.

“You all did, when you were too lazy to dress and come down.”

The boys all flanked themselves around Louis, who was deep in thought enough to not notice the approach until someone else placed their hand on his shoulder, and he looked over to find Matt with a kind smile on his face. “No worries, alright? M’sure he’s okay.” Louis only nodded and returned the smile, pulling the man in for a side hug as they all walked out to wait for the valet to pull up.

Chapter Text

“Harry, that is the fifth cup of ice you’ve brought me, and the fourth time you’ve fluffed this damn pillow. Sit the hell down.”

He glowered at his sister, unable to withstand too long of a staredown before he rolled his eyes and slumped back in the uncomfortable seating provided by the hospital. Childish grumbles rolled out from his lips, nothing coherent or anything other than actual gibberish; just a means to showcase just how disgruntled he was with being put off simply for caring.

He got the phone call at half past four in the morning back in Australia. While it was only the afternoon for everyone back home, there was still the issue of being eleven hours ahead, and he’d informed anyone likely to call him of the difference so they would know when he was awake. It was far too early when his cellphone began blaring an energetic chorus belonging to From Now On off of ‘The Greatest Showman’ soundtrack, one of his favorite tracks from one of his favorite films. With a pounding pain in his temple that came from his own release of emotions after slamming a hotel door post-argument, he only urged himself to ignore it when he noticed the name of the caller being that of his older sister. And of course, he’d picked up the call immediately, because she was aware England was roughly eleven hours behind, so it must’ve been an emergency. It only took hearing the tremble in her voice to wake him up, have him on high alert as he scrambled to collect his things while she explained what was going on. It was a rushed balance of stuffing everything into two bags, trying to soothe his sister and attempting to unscramble his thoughts. He found a small notebook inside the bedside drawer and ripped out a page, digging through his bag for something to write with so he could leave Louis a note that ended up being covered in scribbles and black-outs because Harry didn’t want to apologize when he wasn’t even there.

His phone was left forgotten the night before, the battery dying and essentially cutting off in the middle of telling Gemma he’d be there. He had to ask the receptionist to look up the earliest flight back home (a seven a.m that had him even more frazzled since it was already after five by the time he got downstairs), as well as borrow a phone for a cab, and the rest was history. Then he spent a whole twenty-four hours on a plane where he could only worry himself to sleep and stare out a window while eating peanuts. And even as the exhausted man finally reached the hospital after over a day of travel and jumping time zones, he just could not sit still.

“I swear if I wasn’t stuck in this crappy futon for a week, I’d get up and force you out.” Gemma snuffed, shifting her position and raising the blanket over her belly. Harry was watching her with narrowed eyes, though his gaze softened at the act of situating herself so the baby was comfortable.

Her pains had ceased for the moment but she was initially brought in due to a tough pressure she’d felt in her pelvic area and lower back pain that had been on and off for three days now. Harry didn’t arrive until over a day later because of flight time, not even bothering to stop home before he’d taken a cab to her location. More frantic once he was in the same city as her, from the moment the pilot announced their arrival to now, when she was bedridden and had an IV connected to her hand. He lost count of just how many times his leg bounced, how many times he’d shot out of his seat at the slightest wince from his big sister, the amount of worried tangents he’d gone on once they learned she was going through premature labor. It wasn’t uncommon but it was still his first niece — Gemma’s first child — and while they all had some concern, Harry was just as protective as she was, except his vigilance was coupled with his open emotions.

And it didn’t help that he still hadn’t been in contact with Louis, too exhausted from not nearly enough sleep and struggling to compartmentalize when his thoughts were so intertwined, overlapping and talking over each other. There was no way he could hold a proper conversation, which was what Louis deserved considering how sudden the leave was.

“Baby brother.” Gemma sang, one perfect eyebrow arched when he raised his head, forgoing from continuing to tap his fingers against the edge of the cushioned seat. “Please text your boyfriend. You’re stressing me out. And stress is not good for the baby.”

Harry frowned, “You can’t keep pulling the baby card on me.”

“I can when you’ve been fussing over us since you got here. Not even Dennis is this high strung.”

“Ah, yes. Dennis..” Harry rolled his eyes then, slouching back against the chair, head rolling to the side so he could still see her properly. “The beloved yet absent father and husband.”

“He works, little bro.”

“Gems.”

“Harry.”

He was exasperated, and rightfully so, he believed. Because here he was, having the time of his life (up until that point) traveling with his boyfriend and new friends. Spending a night in distress from an unresolved argument and being woken up from the other side of the world by what was an anxious and wobbly-voiced Gemma telling him something didn’t feel right. That she was in pain. Her husband was there while Harry sped through a hotel and flew his way around the curvature of the world, but left not even twelve hours after he got there because he had several meetings he couldn’t put off. Harry left without hesitation or a fraction of a second thought despite not being up to anything, despite he and his boyfriend being on uncomfortable terms during days leading up to crucial points in Louis’ career. Harry shot up from the other side of the fucking world, and the other half of the baby’s DNA couldn’t be bothered to reschedule business or arrange for virtual conferences so he wouldn’t leave the wife and unborn daughter. So, honestly, there was plenty of reason for Harry to be so strung out by the entire situation.

“You’re spacing out again.” He blinked and refocused his stretched attention back on the woman staring at him with just as bright green eyes. She tilted her head and hummed inquisitively, grabbing for the refresher he’d bought her an hour ago that she took her time savoring. “Maybe you should call a certain someone. Ease some of that tension.” She didn’t bother looking up from the magazine in her lap at the indifferent groan he let out, instead rolling her eyes. “If you don’t get out of my room right now and talk to him, I’m calling Mum.”

“You can’t keep pulling cards to get me to do something.”

“Can’t I?” Gemma looked back up, raising both her eyebrows this time but only slightly, the expression on her face unbothered. “We both know Mum’ll either stare you down or lecture you in love.”

They held one another’s gaze for a while before Harry caved, sinking his shoulders forward as he stood from the seat and made his way out the door, muttering his grievances over this under his breath as he headed toward the elevator. If he was going to call Louis in the middle of the night for both of them (as London was only an hour behind Rome), then he’d need as much fresh air and late night noises that aren’t hospital staff and patients as possible. When the front doors slid open, he stepped out and immediately went for the large square in the middle of the several buildings surrounding him, a large fountain sitting centerfold of the grassy area built above the parking area. With the late hour, no one else was out, and that allowed Harry to breathe a little more while he moved to sit right by the edge of the in-ground fountain, one hand wading in the cold water while he sucked it up and pulled up Louis’ contact with the other.

It shouldn’t have been so hard or so nerve racking. He hadn’t even pressed the call button yet.

Harry chose to stay off of social media, so he wouldn’t have been aware that people noticed his lack of presence in Italy, though he didn’t think they would. He and Louis made it very clear that they were in a relationship — key word possibly being were. He wasn’t sure how Louis dealt with fights that ceased the way that one did — but the older man was seen far more with just mates than a boyfriend. It was an image that was more frequent and consistent. And that was only part of the reason he was so anxious about a phone call. Would the singer still be upset about the fight? Angry over the way Harry just left without a proper word? Indifferent because he himself was used to going out and walking the streets by himself or with friends? Everything that negated a nice over-the-phone reunion was what swam through his head. It was with a shaking thumb that he pressed the blue icon, placing it on speaker, setting his cell in the grass so he could bring his knees up and prop his chin on them, arms wrapped around his legs. 

The call was picked up mid-second ring. “Harry?”

God, he was a baby. Truly attached. Sitting outside of a medical facility at one a.m almost tearing up at hearing the other man’s voice. He tucked into himself more when a breeze picked up, sneaking in through the knit of his jumper and sending goose bumps along his arms. His reply was short and apprehensive. “Hi, Louis.”

"Harry, what- where the hell have you been? You just take off in the middle of the fucking night after our argument,” Harry chose not to mention it wasn’t technically the middle of the night that day, “and all you leave me is a crumpled, scribbled up note saying you had to leave before ghosting me for four days. Four fucking days, Harold.” And, yeah, Harry didn’t expect to feel his chest tighten at the nickname, in both the act of missing it and finding relief in the fact Louis wasn’t upset enough to not use it. “Do you have any idea how many thoughts ran through my mind? My boyfriend saying he went home but not knowing if he actually did or if he’s safe? You’ve got some fucking nerve calling me up at two a.m as if this is a normal thing to do. You can’t just..” And then he trailed off his little tirade, because he heard a sniffle coming from the person who phoned him in the first place. “Are you crying?”

“No.” Harry clipped lamely, which could easily be mistaken as interpretation that he was. “S’just cold.”

“Cold? Where are you?” Concern laced Louis’ tone and Harry felt a fraction of weight lift off his shoulders. He still needed to explain, of course he did. But he’d thought Louis would be furious and unwilling to listen, so this was a nice sort of revelation for him.

“M’at the hospital. St Thomas’.”

“What? Are you okay? What happened? Do you need me to come home?”

“No, I’m..” He couldn’t help the smile brewing at the easy thought of Louis shoving the covers off like he did in Harry’s house before Australia and rushing around the room to grab at only what was necessary. He always misplaced his passport, though, so he would’ve spent the better part of at least a half hour trying to remember where he placed it. Then when he found it he’d pretend the whole ordeal never happened and be as nonchalant as possible, waving off remarks about it because it certainly didn’t happen, not to him.

“M’not here for me. Gemma called and she needed me. I didn’t mean to leave like that, s’just- that’s my big sister. She’s always kept me safe and sound, so it’s mildly distressing when she’s the one asking for help the way she did. It was hard to think of anything after hearing her voice, so I took the soonest flight out and- Did you realize it takes a whole twenty four hours to get home from Australia?”

“I did, yes. Were you not aware of that fact when we were in the air for a whole day?” Louis asked, humor laced into the question.

Harry only huffed in response, emitting a small laugh out of the other end, and he loved that sound. He remembered the first time he heard it, wanting to hear it for the rest of his life (or for as much time as he was allowed). It was always melodic and beautiful and he missed it so much that the sniffle this time around really was from an attempt at keeping himself from crying. “M’sorry for leaving.” He said instead of continuing off of the joking point of conversation. “And for not calling or anything. I was just in such a rush to come be with her and I could barely sleep on the plane or when I got here and my head has been everywhere and Dennis is shit and–”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I can hear you about to panic.” Louis tried to joke but his tone was gentler now, soothing and numbing at the same time. “Just take a breath, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Maybe ‘alright’ will be our always.”

“I’m beginning to regret having you watch that movie.” Harry mumbled from where he sat, the phone still in the grass. The laugh he got in response immediately spread a warmth in the center of his chest.

“Good. And m’sorry too, by the way. For what I said to you.” There was an airy yet nervous chuckle on the other end of the receiver. “I was in me own head by then. You were just trying to get me to see your side of things and I took my frustration out on you, and that wasn’t fair at all.”

“S’okay.” Harry replied quietly, unwinding one of his arms so he could start picking at the grass. “I mean it’s not, what you said, but I just– I didn’t like being mad at you.”

“I didn’t either. Missed sleeping next to you, Haz. Pillows are horrid after being able to use your tummy as a headrest.” Harry giggled, and the beaming smile on Louis’ face practically shoved itself through the phone with how well it could be heard. It was easy to stay angry at someone or at a situation but when he saw Harry’s name light up the small screen, he paused the game on his PlayStation with the sole intent to make sure his boyfriend was okay and apologize. Harry wasn’t an ill-willed person, far from it, and Louis knew they both just needed time (especially since they were both rather dramatic in their own ways), so he stewed in concern until this fateful moment. But because his boy was such a kind creature, he absolutely had to ask. “Now. Why exactly is Dennis shit?”

“No, Louis, he’s shit.”

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize the emphasis was mandatory.”

“It is.” Harry pointed out seriously, nodding even though he couldn’t be seen. He grabbed his phone from the ground and laid back, ignoring the way the grass and soil made him shiver through his sweater, placing the compact device on his chest. “Gemma’s going through premature labor and he isn’t here. He left for work as soon as I got here and was awake enough to sit with her. ‘ve barely seen him in three days and she’s been here for four.”

“Seems to me that Dennis is indeed shit. And Dennis is a shit name anyway,” Louis agreed. “But she’s lucky to have you, love. Has she had the baby yet?”

“They said it could take up to a week for the baby to be ready but it’s already been half a week. Hoping it’s soon and they didn’t just grossly misdiagnose her.”

“Will you..” Louis paused. Harry could practically see him twisting his lips in thought. “D’you think you’d be able to make it back in time?”

Louis’ last performance wasn’t only for this continent; it was for the entire tour. All those months of traveling across the globe, hopping from one city to the next and flying over oceans to different countries to share his first album was coming to a close in just a couple of days. Everything was planned ahead of time so it would be the best and most exciting send off for everyone, from the stage lights to the intense build up that would finish the tour off with a bang. They talked about it endlessly the week before, Louis already hyped up and buzzing with adrenaline days before it was even happening. And now that it’s here, with Harry being no longer a stranger but someone important and part of the team. Now that it’s here, and they had become what they are to each other, Harry didn’t want to miss it for anything. It was a defining moment, how Louis and the crew chose to end this tour, and he had to be there. “I’ll do my absolute best, Lou. I promise.”

“It’s okay if you can’t. I just–”

Harry didn’t like the apprehension that had been taken on, and he would’ve given anything to be across the ocean at that moment. “I’ll try my hardest. Steal a jet if I have to.”

“I’ll be holding you to that.”

There was a comfortable silence then, tension melted from their muscles and consciences cleared now that they’d both said sorry. However, Harry was determined to do more than just give his apologies over the phone. He contemplated it while he watched the stars, both he and Louis more than content with sitting there hearing nothing but soft breaths and rustling each time one of them moved to become more comfortable where they each laid.

It was always a bit of a challenge, finding enough open space in a big city to just sit and watch the stars, but tonight was cloudless and sparkling. Harry could count at least a dozen, and he did, his voice low and rumbling into the receiver while Louis listened, only speaking up to ask if there were any constellations he could describe to him since there was no way the Doncaster boy was going outside. Harry droned on about the different levels of brightness, the color of the sky, the pointless details that Louis was somehow quite interested in. At some point, when a comment was made about the sky being so much more open where the venues for the shows were going to be, Harry felt a pull at his chest. “Do you like it over there? Is everyone having a good time?”

“I do. They are. The lads refuse to get gelato without you, though. Especially your new best mate.” Louis offered, the sentiment confirming the pull Harry felt not only being about Louis, but the ones he came to call his friends as well. Isaac had been amusingly invested in the dessert shop and had several talks with him about it.

“Can’t disappoint Isa.”

Louis let out a soft, muffled giggle from the other side. “No, no. S’a crime if you do. Might have to lock you up.”

Harry hummed, keeping his gaze on what was above him. “Can you tell me about it? Italy? Doing all the promo for your new album?”

“Well, first off, I did manage to ask for the absolute best pizza in Italian without any assistance.And I’ve learned to count to ten instead of just five.”

“Ah, you’ve become a real native then.”

“Obviously.” Louis said in mock yet theatrical seriousness, causing Harry to giggle.

Louis continued to dive into what he’d been up to since they landed, aside from the obvious worry and naps taken in between. He told Harry all about needing a translator at one of the interviews so far because there was a bit of a language barrier with one man more than the others. How he wore a really bright green shirt to one because it reminded him of Harry’s eyes and made him smile (making the younger man blush and bite his lip with a grin). The amount of fans standing outside radio buildings and the hotel when he’d arrive and leave said locations. The small handful of times they went out to truly explore and Josh turned into a travel vlogger, filming the guys during the best moments. Taking a trip to see the two venues, his voice in newfound awe when describing the place that looked like the ruins of a Roman amphitheater, built on the coast so the ocean would be right behind him when he was on stage.

And Harry listened the whole time, wide awake after hours of feeling tired down to the bone, feeling at full peace for the first time in four and a half days. His boyfriend’s voice and apt storytelling, soothing and pulling him in, put him at such an ease it was hard to remember that their last conversation was actually an argument. That he hasn’t had a good sleep in the time since leaving Sydney to come here. That the couple was thousands of miles apart right now.

Harry listened until Louis hit the last word that ended his ventures in the city and promotional events thus far. Until how tired the older of the two showcased itself and Harry encouraged him to go to sleep with another promise that yes, he really would try his hardest to get back as soon as possible. Until they hung up the phone and the tiny gap of silence afterward was cut open by a notification tone, announcing a text from Gemma that had him scrambling up from the ground and sprinting back towards the entrance.

Chapter Text

Louis was a fucking wreck.

Normally his anxiety with a performance nowadays stemmed from making sure he didn’t trip when hopping down to where fans eagerly awaited at the barricade or ensuring he gave a good amount of attention to everyone. His confidence on stage had been growing since the first time singing in public after starting down this path of a solo career, and while it never hit a point where he was cocky about his talents, it was still evident how well off the self love of his voice was becoming. Now, though, he was entirely too focused on the fact that Harry wasn’t there.

The twenty-eight year old made the same promise several times, that he would try as mightily as he could to make it back to Louis in time for the show. And while the flight time was almost nothing, the update he received from Harry just that morning seemed to make that promise null and void in his mind. Gemma had delivered her baby only hours ago, but the pair fell under the circumstances of needing to be there an extra week while the newest addition was incubated and monitored for a while. Louis could only assume his boyfriend would be staying for some more time but was too afraid to ask in case it came off as dismissive or insensitive. He didn’t want to risk another phase of silence between them, so he sucked it up, sent off congratulations and good wishes, and went on to prepare for the show.

It was a bit of a drive from their hotel to the venue and the distance put him at ease. He kept himself occupied while the band worked during soundcheck, doing vocal warmups and stretching his legs to prepare for the rush that would eventually come from being on the ground with everyone. Smiled at the photo Harry posted of him, his mum, Gemma and the baby that he presumed was taken before the little one had to be passed to a nurse. Made a mental note to find a store somewhere and buy a gift or three or five for his boyfriend’s new niece. Which clearly, wasn’t much of a distraction from the realization that said boyfriend wouldn't be able to get to Rome to see the show but, it still made him feel nice when he brought it up and was met with appreciation. Well, appreciation after an attempted pushback from Gemma that she refused to accept anything, especially when they haven’t properly met yet. Her implying she wanted to meet him at all was enough to fill Louis’ chest with a type of pride and giddiness, Harry’s family being this open about their son and brother dating someone so widely known with such a chaotic life. It helped the apprehension.

But now, several hours later, when the night was dark and the crowd on the other side of the curtain was chanting his name while the band waited for their cue, he was back to being a right mess. Harry was only privy to five sets; one being when the ignition for their relationship occurred and two occurring after they’d established themselves, Harry being someone Louis held dear by then. Even with the few shows the curly haired one worked at, Louis grew accustomed to it. To having someone he liked and trusted so much also being the main person handling his adrenaline filled behavior, their energies meshing and swirling around one another, rejuvenating the thrill of performing. And it wasn’t just the singer who fed off of the additional flow of excitement but the rest of the boys, as well. There was no doubt at least a few frames of footage on Josh’s camera showing everyone interacting with the security guard in Australia, and of the first time Harry had successfully maneuvered his way around Louis’ childish insistence on the floor. The group thrived off of one another, and even doing something as simple as traveling to interviews reminded him that a piece of it was gone right now.

He was so caught up in keeping himself calm and ready that he nearly missed his own cue to join the others on stage, just now filtering in that they were hitting the last yeah-ah that Louis walked out with. He nodded at the members who could see him, bouncing on his toes a couple of more times before stepping out underneath the colored lights. The screams were intense, they always were, and it made it easier to get into the necessary headspace that he was usually in. This was the last night before the Walls tour officially ended and the new era of his music began. He had to make the best one any of the fans had ever seen and he had ever done because it was going to be months before he did this again. Regardless of who was present and who wasn’t, this was going to be a monumental moment in time. The end of one direction only for him to head into a different one with the next album, one he was extremely proud of. So when he was in front of the microphone, he closed his eyes before belting out, “‘Cause we made it, underestimated..”

And he felt okay, singing through the first couple of songs as he always did, bouncing off of the fans just as they bounced off of him. The riffs and drums sent vibrations through the floor as he moved, pacing the stone platform so he gave attention to every angle of the curved seating arrangement. The shouts and belting of lyrics right back at him reverberated across his skin and seeped down into his bones. He was on a high unlike the one with Harry but a new high nonetheless. Because even though the person he wanted there couldn’t make it, there was a newfound sense of calm knowing that he was likely still watching a livestream while simultaneously sending Louis’ phone many texts with commentary and encouragement, just as he said he would. So, he realized it was fine if Harry couldn’t be there. Because, aside from the obvious that he’d done dozens of shows without even knowing the other man existed, in a sense he still was, and that was enough to keep Louis from dwelling on any disappointment.

“Now I’m going to start this off a little differently tonight, these little speeches I do.” He started, grabbing his mic off the stand and strolling along the stage. “First is the obvious. Because I want to say a massive, massive thank you to each and every single one of you. I would not be up here right now, playing the last show of my first fucking world tour, without any of you.” He smiled when the sound hit his ears again, chuckling at several I love you’s tossed his way. “I want to thank the entire crew and the band for all their hard work and dedication, for helping to make this tour as unbelievable as it’s been. They all put in more hours than anyone and never fail to make all the technical shit a success. Nothing could be possible without the right crew, and I’ve got the best around, I reckon.”

“Now the second thing, as I’ve seen a couple of signs already. And let me just say before anything else that it's pretty shit to see you all asking for someone else when I’m right here.” He joked, shining a perfect grin at everyone so his expression matched his tone as he referred to the poster boards with Harry’s name on them. “I can confidently say Harry is not here tonight, and his arrival is unknown. He’s got some personal things going on and I’d hope his privacy is given respect. But we all send you our love, Harry, if you’re able to watch the show tonight. Hope all is well and good back home. And we can’t wait to be reunited with you, right lads?” Louis looked behind him at the guys.

“Well, ‘ve certainly been missing my best mate if that’s what you’re asking.” Isaac threw in immediately, causing another wave of noise that had the guitarist grinning into his own microphone.

“We do love you, H. We’re all anxiously awaiting your return to us.” Michael piped in, playing with the silver strings on his bass. 

“Some of us more than others.” Steve smiled cheekily, making a subtle but still very noticeable gesture towards their lead. Louis excused himself to the crowd before he picked up the water bottle near his feet. He unscrewed the plastic cap as he walked over to the drummer, immediately dowsing the man in the clear drink, cackling by the time he got back to the front because the others had joined in on soaking their band mate. 

“Cheeky little shit, that one.” He reprimanded, proud of himself as he watched and listened to the laughter and incitement of the audience.

It all made his heart soar, every time he really looked out and saw the love he felt being reflected right back at him. The silence when he spoke to them, the cheers when he said or did something they enjoyed, the way they always sang as loud as fucking possible and chanted when he wasn’t on stage yet, the lights during Beautiful War and flags during Only the Brave. Everything he’d worked for led up to moments like this, where people loved him for what he did and not because he was part of a popular band. Where they saw true value in Louis being unapologetically himself and never taking anyone’s shit if it was against him or people he cared about (fans included, of course) or what he believed in. He couldn’t have asked for a better community to support him or people he’d hold so close to him despite only ever meeting such a minuscule percentage of them.

When they jumped back into the music it was ceaseless, an easy flow from one live track to another, a hive mind filled to the brim with exhilarating emotions and limitless spirit. He flipped off a few cameras, physically reacted to some signs that caught his eyes, including one that said he could’ve written Romeo & Juliet but Shakespeare could never write Only the Brave. That one had him absolutely elated, and when he bowed there were actual screams melted into the singing. He was so prideful; being able to see how people truly felt about what he sang, how they resonated with it and were sort of advocates for not only their favorite tracks but his entire discography. And the songs he covered were given just as much appreciation as his original work, which never failed to warm his soul.

It was quiet again as the music faded, and he was just winding himself up for the second round of speaking directly to the fans when without warning, they got riled up again. He turned away from where he was talking to the band, the sudden flashy return of commotion spiking curiosity in all of the boys. He couldn’t see very well from the back half of the stage, his vision flooded with the lights on the ground and overhead as he stood closer to the shadows, but then his gaze caught Isaac's. Isaac, who didn’t seem confused like the rest of them, and who was watching Louis with a smile so wide it was ear splitting. He was about to question why his friend looked like the Cheshire Cat when he heard it. A deep, rumbling drawl that had him thinking maybe he was hallucinating. Because while he was deflated that the owner of the voice wouldn’t have been able to make it, he had accepted it. So naturally, he’d denied even hearing it at first.

But then he heard it again in the form of a laugh, and the sharp way his body turned in the direction of the sound would’ve startled anyone if they didn’t catch onto what was going on. He only had to make it halfway across the width of the platform before he caught onto a “you’re all going to get me caught” that had him quickening his pace. When his field of vision broke through the brightness of the small floodlights, he made out a sign that simply read Do you want to search for constellations after the show? in bright blue, with doodles of stars and the Big and Little Dipper drawn around the words. The sides were held by fingers with painted nails and covered in rings, and behind the poster was a face he hadn’t seen in almost a week. With eyes so green and so dazzling they outshone the stage lighting, a large grin so radiant it was more blinding than ever, ringlets looser and wild and framing the sharp features as the brown locks that now hung down an inch past his shoulders. He didn’t notice Louis until the artist hit the edge, the fans in the front in a range of giddiness to losing their minds because Harry.. Harry was there. Surrounded by the fans gripping onto the silver barricade, wearing what looked to be the same shirt from the first time he went out with the band back in Mexico City, and embracing it all as if he belonged there, crowded in by teenagers and young adults who camped out to get their spots up here. And when Harry did turn his head to the front, face tilted back as he looked up at him from where he stood, Louis swore that beautiful reflection of joy was magnified by ten with the way his jade eyes crinkled at the outer corners and his smile stretched impossibly wider, those craters in his cheeks digging deeper than before.

“What are you– how– when did you get here?” He couldn’t help but ask, the question projecting across the space they kept empty for him to run across. He ignored the cellphones being held up, more than likely recording the moment. He felt bad for holding off the show again, just as he did that time before, but again no one seemed to mind. That thought only added to the lightness he felt at seeing his boy right fucking there. Close enough to touch if he only hopped down the boxes to get to him.

“Haven’t you got a show to put on, Tomlinson?” Harry retorted, biting his lower lip as he smiled at the stunned boy. “Can’t exactly take you on a date after this if you don’t give us the best ending to the Walls era we can get.” And that brought on the next surge of hollering, everyone that could hear Harry agreeing with him while reacting to the casual ask of a date in front of an entire crowd.

The sheer volume shocked Louis back into the rest of reality, and a laugh of disbelief bubbled out of his throat. With a shake of his head and a grin overtaking his features, wrinkles ever present on his face and his own dimple making an appearance underneath his cheekbone, he beamed down at Harry. “Seems ‘ve got some work to do, then.”

Instead of answering, Harry set his sign down, one of the security men he came to befriend grabbing it for him to set it aside so it wouldn’t get ruined. He thanked them briefly then cupped his hands around his mouth to form a microphone, loudly starting the chant of his name, the large group around him joining in a split second.

Louis giggled into the back of his hand, nodding before he turned around to where the boys were already playing the beginning notes of a song from his former band called Little Black Dress. It was a little more rock than his own album aside from the last song and it was one of his favorites to perform live back before the group split off, so it made the setlist as one of the covers he’d perform. The current running through the entire space was electrifyingly thrilling, though his shock turned into something more than intrigue when he saw Harry jumping with everyone during the chorus and realized holy shit, he was in a dress. Harry was wearing the same sheer white top with giant palm leaves around the torso, the sleeves rolled up the same way, but it was unbuttoned and acting as outerwear for a black dress that seemed to go to just above his knees, the neckline only going as far up as covering his collarbone. If Louis wasn’t determined to give his best performance and run off on that date before, he definitely was now. It was his first time seeing Harry in any type of skirt and he wanted to see it properly, not from up on a stage where he couldn’t run his fingers down the fabric and drink in his boyfriend wearing a fucking dress. And one that went perfectly with the song, at that.

It felt almost like he blew through the remainder of the set, although the surprise he was given gave him more incentive to really amp up the emotional value of the track that became somewhat of an anthem amongst his fans that identified within the LGBTQ+ community he’d always loved being a part of. They were supportive, accepting and open-minded. They were the reason he felt so proud of himself after he came out. Why he could see someone like Harry, develop feelings for him, and not feel judged or like he should hide an important part of himself because of society still holding on to prejudiced norms. Why he was able to openly date another man and still have the backing of thousands — millions, really — of people who understood him and knew he deserved to be happy regardless of how he or his partner identified. He felt safe with his band mates and his family, his friends and his fans, and he felt the safest with Harry.

The moment they met, regardless of Louis being an asshole, he noticed a pull the second blue met green. It wasn’t love or lust, but it was magnetizing and addicting. They gravitated towards one another from the start, one mirroring the other or figuring out immediately how the other person worked, always knowing what the other was craving or thinking after only a few days of knowing each other. Everything felt so rushed, but nevertheless so right since their lives intertwined, and Louis couldn’t have been happier to see how much Harry embraced flaunting their relationship in this direct way in front of hundreds of eager eyes and ears. So happy, in fact, that when the time came for him to hop his way down and rush the metal fencing separating him from the crowd, the first thing he did was run towards his doe eyed boyfriend and place his free hand on the back of his neck, bringing him in for a searing kiss. The screams were cosmic, the phones were out, and the look on Harry’s face was priceless, only managing a blush deep enough to be seen in the partial darkness, Louis grinning as he pecked his cheek and moved down the way to finish the last section of the show.

||

His gaze met Harry’s when the fireworks went off, and he nudged his head in the direction of backstage, catching the sound of him calling one of the security team over to help him out while he excitedly walked off to the left. He was barely able to turn towards the back stairs that would eventually lead to the tour bus so he could change, when he heard rushed steps coming towards him. He only turned just in time for a long pair of arms to wrap themselves around him, a mess of curls tickling the side of his face while Harry burrowed into his neck. “I missed you.” His muffled voice spoke, the vibration of his words sending a shiver across Louis’ sweat covered skin.

“I missed you, too.” Louis smiled softly, returning the tight hug without hesitation. They were both running hot from being under harsh lighting and surrounded by endlessly moving bodies, but neither one could care less. “How’re Gemma and the baby? Your mum?”

“All great. S’only been a day but Annabelle – that’s what they named her – has been okay so far.” Harry removed himself from where he was latched onto Louis, keeping his arms around his neck as he looked down into blue eyes. “I couldn’t miss your last show, Lou. Flew out as soon as I could.”

“I’m really happy you’re here, H.” Louis cocked his head just slightly, not able to keep his smile down. He glanced down between them, the upturn of his lips more present as he unwound his arms to step back, his partner’s arms slinking off without issue. He caught one of Harry’s hands in his and intertwined their fingers as he gestured to the ensemble presented in front of him. “Now let’s talk about this dress, Haz. You look gorgeous, love.”

“Really? You like it?”

“Couldn’t take my eyes off you anyway but when I realized you were wearing this, I was a fucking goner. You look beautiful.”

Harry was speechless and looked as red as a tomato, his doe-like eyes settled on Louis’ face, lips parted in awe. “No one’s ever called me beautiful before. Not in that way, at least.”

“Well you are. And I’ll be sure to tell you as often as possible.” Louis declared, stepping closer until the toes of their shoes touched, his hands traveling upwards so he could play with the ends of loose brown coils. Harry’s pupils were dilated as he looked on in adoration, watching the way Louis tracked the dance of his smooth curls against his fingertips, down a pathway that led to the bow of his lips. The shorter man pulled Harry down to recapture him in a kiss just for them. Not for an audience to witness or his mates to tease about or an article to be written. Just them and their growing feelings and their all-around connection. They kissed deep enough to make up for over five days of nothing. To equal the passion of many missed exchanges. To share just how much they missed each other not only physically but emotionally.

When they pulled away Louis used the pad of his thumb to push into one of the two concaving dimples, a giggle escaping through Harry’s lips. “I know we’ve established forgiveness but.. sorry for being a dick.”

A spark went off in the jade rings boring into his sky ones. “Oh, so you do have a wider vocabulary for cuss words. Was beginning to think ‘fuck’ was all you were taught.”

“I’ll have you fuckin’ know–” Louis grinned, “that if it weren’t for that conversation, we may not be here right now.”

“You mean the snogging? Because I think we would’ve worked up to it eventually.”

Louis rolled his eyes, “Yeah, the snogging.”

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry, I still like you for just you. Quite a lot, actually.”

“S’funny you mention. I like you quite a lot, as well.”

“Interesting.”

“It is.” Louis nodded. “So what do you reckon we do about that?”

“Reckon I should take you out to see the stars. Drive down the coast, sleep on the beach, do some other stuff on the beach.” Harry grinned cheekily, eliciting a very theatrical gasp from the musician as Louis hit his chest.

“Harold Styles, the cheek! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?!”

“As if you haven’t said much worse.”

“I have, yes. All reserved for you, my love.”

And it was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes while Louis drank in the close up of his beautiful boy, bringing him in for one more deep kiss before they set off to see Italy the way they wanted to, even if just for a few fleeting moments.

eight months later

Ten months ago, Louis had no clue who half of the people surrounding him were.

The band was taking turns playing Mario Kart with Ash and Johanna, shouts of rage or encouragement echoing around the house as they split off in metaphorical teams. Gemma was in the kitchen with her mother, Anne, as the two prepared a spring lunch to take out to the backyard where a small garden was now blooming in colors and vibrant gradients. Isaac was working on his own songs while he sat cozily beside Michelle, who was more than just interested in the work Joshua did as a concert and tour photographer, the girl asking question after question whether it was about her own photos or his. Niall and Shawn (who he finally got to meet the right way and who was introduced as his best mate’s boyfriend) in their own little world, tucked away into a loveseat and working on new designs for the interior of Shawn’s bar. Everyone was comfortable and enjoying the company of people they were finally able to meet months ago, now seeing one another as extended family.

And then there was Harry, who was sitting on the rug in the living area with his eight month old niece, Annabelle, cooing at her and rearranging his features into funny faces every time the baby looked at him with those inquisitive eyes. His hair was longer now, a good several inches past his shoulders, the curls still loose but mixed in with some stray ringlets here and there. He still wore loud clothing and bold colors but usually settled for tee shirts, hoodies and leggings when it was only family or a day they would spend inside most of the time. His hair was always wrapped up in a medium-sized bun or small ponytail, two braids sometimes making an appearance when he felt extra pretty or just wanted his hair played with. The sweater he had on now was actually one of Louis’ larger ones that he’d stolen just the other day when Louis was locked in his studio for a video meeting and was apparently dearly missed.

Louis watched the way his face lit up every time he could make the little one smile or giggle, reveling in the twinkling sound before the baby would move on to one of the toys on her playmat, a soft smile stretching on his own face. He’s always felt light around Harry, like he could walk on water or float amongst the clouds. And if he ended up falling, well, there would be someone right there to catch him or drag him out from underneath the waves. It didn’t take long at all for him to be taken with the person sitting in front of him, to feel safe in his arms and like nothing could hurt either of them when they were together. Nevermind the rocky start or the fights or that week where there was nothing. Because even then he was more sure than anything that this was someone he wanted in his life for as long as possible; something he hadn’t felt about anyone else before Harry came into the picture, with his long legs and quick reflexes and ability to match Louis in every way. He saw Louis’ flaws, his tendency to act a bit childish here and there, and embraced each piece of who he is without question.

There were hardships over the past nine months — what relationship didn’t go through tough times? — but they were always okay in the end. They agreed to never go to bed angry, but if something was too much then one would stay over a friend’s house or sleep in another room, although Louis would still end up with wild curls tickling his chin and inked arms wrapped around his middle. There were fights and snarky commentary and little things that were done to purposely annoy the other when one of them was frustrated. But there were so many more smiles and laughs, late night talks that would keep them awake until the sun was up and drives to watch the stars every Saturday, compliments that were given out just because and cinnamon chocolate chip cookies that ended in a mess of flour and cookie dough, dog walks and playdates for the cat so she wouldn’t feel left out. A handful of people thought it was too soon to be moving in with one another, and maybe in some cases it was. But declaring their love for one another around Louis’ birthday was one of the best presents he could’ve gotten that year, and it only made it feel more right to after endless weeks of staying over one another’s houses.

Harry was the one who moved out of his place because Louis’ just made more sense. With Ginger they now had three animals living with them, and Harry’s wardrobe had only grown since their first trip to Italy, sparking a new sense and love of fashion after roaming a few shops and boutiques. Louis was so in love and endeared by the amount of personalization in Harry’s townhouse kitchen that he insisted his boyfriend bring every single thing with him and Harry-fy the one back at his house. (“Harry-fy isn’t even close to being a word, Lou.” “Harold, please, I’m trying to woo you with my creative intelligence.” “Well it’s not working.”)

It was a perfect fit, really, because while they meshed really well they also balanced each other out tremendously. They were ying and yang, two different forms of complementary light, the sun and the moon when they’re finally able to meet one another in the sky to form something so spectacular it was blinding.

“What are you staring at me for?”

Louis blinked, a faded rose colored blush spreading across his cheeks as he caught the emerald gaze of what would hopefully be his forever. “Just love you, is all.”

The grin he got in return was a brilliance all its own, with small craters defining his features and a sparkle in his eyes that was always present when Louis was around or in his thoughts. “I love you, too, Lou.” And those three words alone coming from a man who changed many aspects of his life to be with him — who took all Louis is and accepted him and loved him unconditionally — is what solidified the one thing that’s been on his mind for weeks now.

Harry was his home, and he never wanted to be anywhere else.