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“So it’s been how long since you’ve seen each other?”
“A month,” Harry said, gazing over at Louis from the kitchen as if it had been a year. “Give or take.”
“Usually it’s two weeks, but we’ve been a bit busy,” Louis clarified upon seeing the shock on some of the faces of their friends.
“I don’t think I could go that long without seeing Mitch,” Sarah said, sliding closer to kiss his cheek and make his ears go pink before he slipped an arm around her waist.
“S’not easy,” Harry said, walking over to the group. Louis patted the spot next to him on the sofa, and Harry took that as an invitation to climb halfway on his lap, legs swung over his with his head resting on his shoulder.
“Do you ever, like, get a break? Just the two of you?”
Harry and Louis exchanged a look, not quite sure of the answer as they had been so busy for what seemed like centuries since their last week-long cuddle.
“When’s the last time, d’you reckon? Long break.”
“Hmm… December, I think. Christmas?” He nodded to agree with Harry, being reminded once again of how utterly lucky he felt to have the ability to be with his love.
Louis saw the expressions on their friends’ faces, subtle but surprised nonetheless. Harry missed it though, as he was starting to settle in on top of his husband. He had no shame about curling in against Louis and closing his eyes, exhausted from the eventful day. He was the host, after all; if he wanted to sleep, he would.
“Yeah, we’re jus’ used to it by now. Right, love?”
“Mhm,” Harry hummed, cuddling deeper into Louis’ chest and squeezing the arm wrapped around him even tighter.
“You shouldn’t be, though. That’s really not normal.”
One of Louis’ friends had spoken up, and Mitch shot a fiery look toward the man. He wasn’t the only one, but Louis did his best to keep his tone friendly.
“Oh, we know. S’fine though.”
“S'fine,” Harry echoed, mumbling into Louis’ shirt, nearly asleep.
Louis rubbed his back and planted a kiss in his hair, soothing him to the point of dropping off. It was almost impressive how quickly his partner was able to fall asleep, but after years of endless exhaustion, it only made sense.
The conversation stretched on, their friends slowly leaving one by one until it was just a sleeping Harry, Louis, and a friend who was being a bit too nosy for Louis’ liking.
“Louis—” he said quietly when he realised Harry was asleep, “—how long are you gonna do this?”
“What d’you mean?”
“I mean, how long can you possibly keep this up? I can’t imagine it feels good.”
“Nah, it’s alright now. S’what we have to do. What I have to do.” Louis looked down at Harry, swooning at the way his eyelashes cast long shadows on his prominent cheekbones.
“It’s really not alright, though.”
With all the patience he’d exerted through the conversation, he found his fuse burning lower and lower. If it wasn’t for the sleep-heavy body that pinned him down, he’d have been leaning far forward to intimidate the man sitting in front of him.
“I’m sorry, are you suggestin’ that I leave H?”
“No! No, not at all—”
“‘Cos that’s what I’m hearin’. And as one of me oldest mates, you should know better than to—”
Louis’ slightly raised voice made Harry shift against him, the vibrations of his chest disturbing his sleep. He scratched the man’s back and felt him settle, hoping he hadn’t fully woken.
“No, Tommo, c’mon. All I’m sayin’ is… for years you two talk about this like it’s all alright and, I dunno. I’m just not sure how it’s not killing you.”
“Who says it’s not?” Louis joked, and he got a sad look in return. “Stop it — I’m fine. This is jus’ what it’s like for us, y’know? We know what we’ve gotten into, and I couldn’t ask for anythin’ more.”
“You could, though. You two could have so much more.”
“This is all I need.”
“This isn’t healthy.”
“This is all I need,” Louis firmly repeated, not leaving any room for argument.
“It isn’t normal.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve adapted,” he said simply, eyes turned back to Harry and his peaceful face—to the little curl that had flipped its way onto his forehead, moving it away with the gentlest touch.
“How are you so casual about this? Like it’s completely fine? Is that what it is?”
“No. It’s…it’s not. It hurts t’wake up to an empty bed, it’s painful to kiss goodbye in the car ‘cos I can’t walk him to the gate for his flights. It’s endlessly painful, mate, but that’s love, innit?”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“It does. For us it does.” Louis kissed the top of Harry’s head when the man shifted again. “We’ll take what we can get, and this is steps above what it used t’be.”
“This is above?”
“Yeah, actually, it is. At least without the band, they’re not shovin’ it in our faces anymore. Now we deal with it in private, no more…”
“This says you and Louis are a couple. There’s pictures of you kissing.”
Harry leaned forward toward the interviewer and tried to keep his face neutral, but he was struggling to hide the shock at seeing the collection of photos in the magazine presented to the three boys. Though some of them were fan-made edits, the inclusion of one specific photo made his stomach turn.
The two of them. Underwater.
Kissing.
That was one of Harry’s favourite photos with Louis from when they were just kids. He was still just a kid, to be fair. Only nineteen and saddled with the pressure of looking his truth in the face and stomping on it like it was nothing.
He couldn’t stop himself from staring—he continued to examine the photos with his brain whirling around for some kind of reasonable answer.
“That… is photoshop.”
His bandmates could feel the nerves radiating from him, noticing the way he tensed and grew quiet, so they took over and tried to steer the conversation away. The woman was persistent with Harry, though, and she clearly wanted her answer.
“So you and Louis — there’s nothing going on?” Her vaguely disgusted look and disapproving tone made her stance on the issue clear, and Harry was having trouble focusing on the matter at hand while his heartbeat flickered in that nervous way it always did when he had to tell a lie.
“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head and zoning out entirely. It was his saving grace that Liam kept the energy up by telling some joke, distracting the woman to give him a moment to collect himself and take a few steadying breaths.
“Do you like older women, Harry?”
“I—”
He still hadn’t been paying much attention, and when he noticed his husband’s flaming eyes in the corner of the room, his brain got even more scattered. He wasn’t quite sure what he said in response to her, if anything at all, but it was clearly something reasonably charming since there were no strong reactions from the people around him.
“I’m not hitting on Harry,” he heard her insist, but Harry had a feeling Louis was disagreeing quite strongly from across the room.
He was very much out of sorts and his answers took extra time and effort to get out for the rest of the interview. It was lucky for him that Niall and Liam were able to pick up the pieces and keep things moving along effortlessly. If that had been a solo interview he would’ve left the room right then and there, growing dizzy from the attention and lies.
“Why would they show me that?” Harry asked Niall the moment the cameras cut and the interviewer stood from her seat.
“I dunno.”
“Why would they make me do that?”
“Harry, I don’t know. I’m so sorry.” Niall tried to comfort him, but it wasn’t much help.
“Those are private photos, how’d they get those? I-I…I’m not s’posed to get those questions, Niall, I can’t handle them.”
Harry’s hands were shaking along with his voice and, despite his best attempts, he could feel his stomach churning with anxiety—with the fear that he hadn’t done well enough, hadn’t met standards again.
“Everything’s fine, mate.”
“No, it’s not. She was tryna wind me up, I know it. That look on her face…”
“I saw it too,” Niall admitted, but he couldn’t mention the glances their management’s representatives shared amongst themselves when the woman singled Harry out—self-satisfied and all too smug.
“They’re testing me. They’re testing me and I’m failing. I’m not cut out for this. Th-those questions are meant to go to Louis ‘cos he does it so well.”
“You didn’t fail, but you’ve gotta relax. They’ll look for any reason to come for you, so you have to hold it together.”
“I don’t know how he does it. It doesn’t seem like it hurts him at all,” Harry continued speaking, ignoring Niall’s warning.
“It does, though. Might not seem it, but it definitely does.” He did his best to reassure Harry, but his efforts weren’t having the desired effect.
“Has he said that to you?” His voice shook with the question.
“Well, not exactly. But I know it.”
Harry’s eyes welled up as he looked at his friend, and Niall immediately went in for a hug, arms wrapping around Harry’s neck as he leaned down.
“You’re fine,” he whispered. “It’s okay, mate — breathe.”
He felt Harry take a shivery breath that ruffled the hair on the back of his neck. It was then that Louis turned around in time to see them pull apart, Niall still whispering to Harry with supportive hands on his shoulders. Louis had known Harry long enough to be able to tell what the expression on his face meant; he was about to panic, and someone needed to intervene.
“S’goin’ on over here?” He asked, a bit panicky himself as he knelt down. “You doin’ alright?”
Harry looked at him and swallowed hard. He patted the sofa at his side to ask Louis to sit, and Niall ruffled Harry’s hair slightly before heading off toward the other boys.
“Oh no, you feelin’ bad, sunshine?” Louis rested a hand on the back of his neck and found no unusual warmth coming from the soft skin.
“No,” Harry whispered, hardly audible.
“No? Then what’s wrong?”
Looking down and studying the tiled floor beneath him, Harry tried to get the words out of his tight throat.
“You do it so easy,” he said between erratic breaths that indicated he was moments away from releasing the restrained sobs.
“What d’you mean, love?”
“I said no. Had to say no. Showed me photos of us, and I said… I-I can’t. Who gave them those?” Harry rubbed his face, the friction turning his pale cheek bright pink.
Louis had been furious when the interviewer asked Harry about rumours of their relationship, and when the woman pulled out her ‘evidence’ he saw red. Those questions were supposed to be directed toward him upon his explicit request to their management team. They weren’t supposed to be asked in the first place, but on the occasion that they were blindsided by the interactions, they were supposed to be for Louis to deal with. It was inevitable that there would be more pressing questions about their rumoured relationship as the years went on, but it seemed Harry still hadn’t prepared himself to handle them. He was a sensitive boy, he always had been, and he didn’t do well with an ambush like that.
Pretty much anywhere the band went, they were slapped with a strike on their cleanliness clauses: ‘incorrect answers’, ‘inappropriate conduct’, ‘disregarding instructions’, and the like. Harry and Louis had it the worst, though. Being gay was, in the eyes of their management, the most unclean thing they could do. Eye contact, seating arrangements, accidental touches—almost anything they did was inappropriate. It was dirty. Unacceptable.
Louis couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all his fault. He’d been pushing his luck, ignoring rules and finding loopholes, and it all culminated in this. It was a punishment for him just as much as Harry—they were sending a message loud and clear that if Louis didn’t fall in line, Harry would suffer.
“I’m so sorry, love. I’m really, really sorry.” Louis rubbed his back, looking around to be sure the management team wasn’t about to intervene. Nobody seemed to be paying them any mind. “Let’s relax, now. Take some breaths, get grounded. We don’t wanna cry here, yeah?”
“Don’t even care anymore,” Harry mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. “M’gonna fuckin’ lose it, Louis.”
“No, no, c’mon now. Hey — hey, baby. Look at me.” He put a hand on Harry’s chin and turned it his way. “Harry, love. Curly.”
Louis took an exaggerated breath when Harry’s eyes opened, and the boy followed along as best he could with his jumpy chest.
“Better?”
“Y’do it so easy,” Harry sniffled, still on the verge of tears. “How d’you do it like that?”
“Lyin’ gets… easier the more you do it. And before y’say anythin’, I don’t mean a single word of it. Not one. When you got a script in your head from bein’ asked dozens of ways, you get used to it.”
“I don’t wanna get used to it.” His voice cracked painfully, jabbing at Louis’ heart.
But that’s the industry, Louis thought.
He put a soft hand on Harry’s back, pulling him in for a hug. One hand went to the back of his neck, holding him supportively when he felt shaky breaths brush over his collarbone. He shuffled Harry closer so he was nearly on top of him.
“Louis,” a sharp voice called from the other side of the room. “Get over here, please.”
Louis looked over Harry’s shoulder at the stone-faced man who glared at the two of them. He didn’t bother to respond, just continued stroking Harry’s back slowly to calm him.
“Tomlinson, now.” he snapped.
The other boys looked over at the disruption, and upon seeing the way Harry was practically in Louis’ lap, clutching desperately at his shirt and the fire burning in the eyes of the management reps, they wandered closer to their bandmates. Louis stood, guiding his boyfriend up and holding his arm to keep him close as they tried to walk out, but before Harry and Louis could get away, one of the women grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him out of step with Louis, causing him to yelp in surprise. That was when the boys stepped in—Niall stood protectively in front of Louis, and Zayn split the woman off from a frantic Harry, leading him back to his boyfriend as she turned, finding herself face-to-face with Liam.
“Liam, stop it. This isn’t your fight,” she said exasperatedly before turning to the interviewer and crew. “We’re so sorry about them. Feel free to take a break, and we’ll send someone out to have a word with you, sign some final papers.”
“I’d say it is,” he insisted, shifting his position when they tried to walk around him. “And how dare you lay a hand on him.”
“It’s in your best interest to not get involved,” she warned. “That goes for all of you.”
Niall joined Liam on the front lines, and Zayn stayed by the couple to both keep them away from confrontation and stop Louis from advancing.
“Is it now? Shame. Lads, should we back away?”
Liam and Zayn shook their heads, jaws set in place. When Liam looked over his shoulder at Zayn and nodded, the boy took that as his cue to turn to the couple behind him. Harry, tall as he had grown, nearly succeeded at cowering behind Louis, and Zayn put a guiding hand on Louis’ shoulder.
“C’mon, let’s go.” He turned Louis and stood behind the two, putting a protective hand on his back as he walked.
“Where do you three think you’re going?”
Zayn didn’t respond or look around, he just gave them all the finger and forced his way through, slamming his shoulder into whoever it was that tried to stop his momentum as he separated them from Harry and Louis. He encouraged Louis to keep moving, knowing that he was more than tempted to stop and argue. They both knew that wouldn’t be good for Harry, though, so Louis reined himself in. The voices of Liam, Niall, and their opposition got louder and louder as they left, and Zayn and Louis could feel Harry start to shake.
“He’s making you look bad. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“Let’s get him sat down,” Zayn muttered to Louis who nodded. They found a side room tucked away in the back corner and walked him in. He collapsed onto the sofa, his head in his hands as he breathed erratically. Louis looked up at Zayn who reassured him. “I’ll be outside the door — lock it behind me.”
Zayn left the room and Louis bolted to the door, feeling awful for leaving Harry’s side for even a few seconds.
“H, love, relax. You’re alright. Everythin’s fine, sunshine.”
“No. No, Lou.”
“Why not, baby?”
Harry just shook his head as his front teeth dug into his lip, looking as if they could break the skin. It wasn’t helping Louis relax, and though he was usually able to stay level-headed when Harry was in crisis, he was starting to spiral too.
“I need you to try and calm down. Please, H, or I’ll panic too.” Harry looked so guilty, and Louis smoothed the hair out of his face. “What, darling?”
“I don't like when they get angry w’you ‘cos of me. S’not your fault.”
“And s’not yours either.” He ran two fingers down Harry’s cheek and got him to look up. “This isn’t your fault, Harry.”
He pressed their foreheads together, but just as he did, Harry jumped, knocking them together at the sound of voices outside the door. Louis ignored the way it made his brain rattle and kissed the smarting spot on Harry’s head over and over to take away the pain.
“S’alright. Door’s locked. Zayn’s out there, can’t get past him, can they? Scary one, he is.”
Harry was shaking again.
“They’re gonna–” he swallowed, “—they’re gonna be furious with you.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout that. I can hold me own, you know that.”
“They’re… they’ll… Louis.”
He sat on the sofa next to Harry and, with hands on his waist, guided him to sit on his lap, straddling him so they were chest-to-chest with Harry’s face in Louis’ neck. Louis caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but he hoped that he could keep it all from Harry’s ears by humming quietly to him.
“Imagine if they’d caught them on camera.”
“So what if they had?”
“That’d be all over the tabloids. We can’t have that shit — makes you look bad.”
“We couldn’t care less how it makes us look.”
“Yeah? Well we care, and we’re the ones giving you a job.”
“Remember your contracts. Keep yourselves in line, boys. All of you.”
Harry snuggled down into him, very slowly relaxing and returning to a normal breathing pattern, though they were still too shallow for his husband’s liking. Louis didn’t tell him it had been nearly forty minutes—it wasn’t something he needed to know.
“I wasn’t tryna get emotional, I swear,” Harry whispered. “Didn’t want to panic.”
“S’alright to get emotional. I’m sorry they’ve got you all wound up, baby.” He put a hand on the back of Harry’s neck and slowly stroked the little hairs at the back of his neck. “Did somethin’ else happen, or was it jus’ the photos?”
Harry sniffled, pressing into Louis as if he worried he would disappear out from under him if he didn’t pin him down tight.
“Dunno. Hayfever’s acting up ‘cos Australia hates me and wants me to suffer, so I’ve got a scratchy throat and a headache, and… I dunno.” Louis clicked his tongue sympathetically and combed through Harry’s hair. “Haven’t slept well in ages. Think it’s all catching up to me now.”
“Sorry, lovely. Is it me? ‘Cos I can always room with Liam if I’m bein’ a problem.”
Harry clutched him harder, fingernails digging into his skin uncomfortably, but not painful enough to urge him to stop.
“No. You’re mine. I just… could I fall asleep before you tonight? Like, could you wait for me? I’m sorry, that sounds stupid, but—"
“I absolutely can. I’ll give you a nice back rub ’til you go under, how’s that sound?” Louis scratched his nails up and down Harry’s spine and smiled when his husband shivered from the feeling.
“M’so in love with you.”
“I’m so in love with you more,” he replied.
There was a calm, loving silence that stretched for a good minute, hearts beating together as they rested their hands on each other, eager to press skin on skin wherever they could.
“I heard them. What they said.” His whisper cracked his voice, and he huffed quietly, frustrated by his inability to hide his emotions as well as he’d have liked.
“Did you?”
“Mhm. I’ll control myself. I’ll do better, I’m sorry.”
“You did nothin’ wrong,” Louis assured him, knowing that it wouldn’t do much, if anything, to change his mind on the matter.
“Made us look bad.”
“You did no such thing, baby.” Louis kissed Harry softly. “Not at all.”
“…no more sufferin’. For H, at least.”
“The bar is that low, huh?” That rubbed Louis the wrong way since, whether it was meant to or not, it came off as highly judgemental and had Louis left wishing he’d not invited a single person into their home. He should have spent the evening with Harry alone, spoiling him endlessly and treating him like the princess he was, not quietly arguing in a moonlit room with empty plates scattered on every surface.
“I’d watch me mouth if I were you. Seriously, mate. I get you’re concerned or whatever, but I swear to god if you suggest one more time that Harry isn’t enough for me, I’ll kill you meself.”
“Jesus, Louis.”
“M’serious. Maybe not about the killin’ you part, but I’m serious. H and I are fine. We deal with it how we deal with it, and I couldn’t want anythin’ else. Harry’s me home. He’s the only person I could ever truly love, and I fully believe that.”
“I get it. I do. I’m just… it’s so much dedication. That’s a compliment.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
The room went quiet, and it was clear that the conversation was over. Once the two were finally alone again, Louis sighed in relief. Harry was still asleep on him, and he traced fingers down the bumps of his ribs, hoping the touch was light enough to not disturb his nap.
“I heard him,” Harry mumbled—apparently he’d been awake for a while and listening in, though Louis hoped it hadn’t been for long.
“Heard what, darling?” Louis asked, pressing his cheek to the top of Harry’s head and squeezing him tight.
“That this isn’t healthy.”
His nose tapped against Harry’s forehead to get him to look up, and their eyes met. Harry’s were tired and sad, quite different from how they’d looked before he’d fallen asleep.
“And what did I say?” He asked, arms still held tight around the man.
“Said it’s all you need.”
“And what else did I say?”
“…you’re gonna kill him?”
A quiet laugh vibrated his chest beneath where Harry’s hand rested, and it felt so beautifully familiar. It was his favourite feeling—though, to be fair, any touch of Louis’ was his favourite.
“Well, yeah. I was goin’ for ‘Harry’s me home and I love him more than anythin’ else in the world’, but that works too.”
A grunt came from Harry, and he grabbed Louis’ shirt, balling it up in his fingers and tugging it tight enough around him that it moulded to the curve of his waist.
“And you believe me?”
“I do. Doesn’t make the rest of it not true,” Harry mumbled.
“H, lookin’ back on all me life, our worst times together are still better than me best times apart. Some people might say s’unhealthy, but I say they’ve never had you. They’ve not been lucky enough to watch you grow. They don’t wake up to your eyes first thing in the mornin’, if even a few days a month. They don’t feel your fingers on their skin. They don’t get the privilege of lovin' you the way you let me. There’s never been a day I haven’t thought about you, not since the moment we met.”
“I think about you,” Harry agreed. “Every day. Every hour. Every minute.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Louis laughed at his earnestness.
“It’s true,” Harry pouted, and when Louis tilted his head down to peck his lips he found himself captured for a long few seconds in a slightly sloppy, very sleepy kiss.
“I’m sure it is, sunshine. What d’you say we go up t’bed? I wanna make the most of our time together.” His lips were persuasive, but Harry wasn’t immediately swayed.
“M’too tired for sex, Lou.”
“When’d I ever say that? I’m exhausted and you’ve got them tired little eyes. We deserve a good rest.”
Harry looked around the room and, though it was empty, the sound of conversation just barely floated in through the open door.
“Aren’t there still people here?”
“Gemma’s sleepin’ over, is she not? She’ll handle ‘em, I’m sure.”
And with that, the couple made to leave. Despite his exhaustion, Harry scooped Louis up and held him close to his chest, holding him steady as they travelled to a warm, soft bed with their limbs tangled up and slow breaths syncing for the few hours of shared calm they so desperately craved.