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background: soulmates AU, where partners are only revealed after they mutually profess a love for each other, harry has been in love with louis since they were kids, takes place
2: particular
There are a couple of things that are just facts of the universe. As steadily as the Earth turns, these facts will remain true. (In Harry’s opinion, at least.)
One.
Soulmates are destined to be. From the second someone is born, they are designated a particular person to be with, romantically or platonically, the strings of fate will tie them together for the rest of time. The pairing is not revealed to the two until both of them acknowledge their love for each other. The words said by the other partner at that moment are permanently inked into skin, the words a beautiful reminder to every person that they are meant to be loved.
(Harry’s are Harry Styles, you’re a fucking piece of work. He’s come to accept that they’re not the most flowery, but they come from a place of affection somewhere.)
Two.
The world is ugly. As beautiful as the soulmates concept is, the universe must punish them somehow, in the form of missed connections, violence, racism, homophobia… the list goes on. It’s important to look at the silver lining in those situations, and hope that love fosters a path forward through the animosity.
(Harry’s heart aches each time he hears a saddening story. Such things have only strengthened his resolve to be a better person in every way he can, to spread compassion through his words and actions)
And three.
Harry Styles is irrevocably, impossibly in love with Louis Tomlinson, and Louis has absolutely no fucking clue. This one is probably the one that emotionally hurts the most, the one that keeps him up late at night, wondering if he’s ever going to get over his big, dumb crush.
They’ve known each other since middle school, when Harry moved in from another town and, starstruck by Louis’ appearance, accidentally peed on him while at the urinals. Somehow despite that less than ideal first meeting, they became thick as thieves, Louis acting like his older guardian angel. Harry’s not embarrassed to say that he cried when Louis left for college, and then cried again – this time for joy – when he was accepted into the same university two years later.
If someone asks Harry when he first knew that he was in way too deep, he’d probably answer that time as a freshman in high school, when Louis brought him a cupcake for his birthday during school lunch… and then loudly professed his love in front of the entire cafeteria. Harry should have fucking known that he’d dug himself a massive hole when all he felt was a flutter in his heart instead of the intense embarrassment that should have come across.
(When he’d first told Niall that story, the blonde had laughed for a solid ten minutes, before declaring that Harry was fucked.)
These are the things that run Harry’s world order, and right now, that third fact is hitting him like a ton of bricks.
“Harry- Hazza, are you even paying attention to me?”
Blinking, Harry looks up at Louis, who’s glaring down at him angrily. Clearly he must have missed something. “Um… yes?” he tries, sitting more upright on the couch in an attempt to look more engaged. To be honest, ever since Louis barged into his apartment unannounced to rehearse some acapella stuff or whatever, he’s been zoned out – a combination of Louis being too cute to handle and Harry being painfully tired.
With a scoff, Louis plops down on the couch next to him, prodding his arm harshly. “What’s up with you?
Harry lets out a strangled groan, burying his head in his hands and resists the urge to just lean into Louis’ shoulder. He does not need to be getting more attached (though, at this point, he’s not sure he can get any less attached). Trying is a fruitless endeavor anyways, because Louis shifts over and wraps him up in a big hug. It’s warm and comfortable and everything Harry wants but doesn’t need.
“Thanks, Lou,” he says into the other’s shoulder, pulling back with a more relaxed sigh. “Just tired is all. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Aww, why?” Louis leans forward, elbows on his knees, so he can get a proper look at Harry’s face, all previous irritation quickly forgotten.
In truth, it’s mostly a phone call that he’d gotten from his mom, wondering when he was going to settle down. He’s only 25 now, but in his family, everyone had met their soulmates by the age of 20. No matter how many statistics he pulls up with the average age of new soulmates – it’s 26 – his mom refuses to listen. She’s convinced that he’ll end up a permanent bachelor, alone and with no kids to speak of.
Subconsciously, Harry rubs at his inner forearm, right over where his words are inked. “Nah, just a bit of insomnia,” he lies, pulling a grimace that’s not entirely fake. “I’ve got some melatonin pills if it kicks up again tonight.”
Louis hums in understanding, giving his hand one quick squeeze before getting up again with a flourish. “Right, well, I’ll make it my goal to perform this one in such a way that it keeps you awake!” He’s got a bright, contagious smile on that’s impossible to resist, Harry’s mouth quirking up to match.
“Try your best,” he says, leaning back into the couch cushions, feet kicked up on the coffee table. There’s no chance of him falling asleep during this one, now that he’s properly pulled in, but he’s not going to tell Louis that. Not when he’s got such a confident look under his fringe, hands on his hips, projecting his voice out to the other side of the apartment.
No, Harry wouldn’t ever do anything that had even a miniscule chance of bringing Louis down… which is what he tells himself every single time his heart aches with how desperately he wants to declare his love. He’d rather suffer in silence himself than risk his relationship with Louis.
~~
The following Sunday finds another common intruder at his apartment, trying to sneak a bite from the freshly assembled fruit tart on his kitchen counter.
“Niall, stop that!” Harry scolds, slapping his friend’s hand away. “That’s for later and you know it.”
With annoyed grumbling, Niall trudges out of the kitchen and plops down sideways in the armchair, legs waiving in the air. “First you drag me along to this dumb show, and now you don’t even feed me?!”
“I literally just cooked you dinner.”
“I’m a growing boy, Harry! I need sustenance!”
Harry rolls his eyes to the ceiling and not for the first time, wonders why he even bothers keeping Niall around. Realistically, he knows that Niall is probably the only reason why he made it through college alive, but right now, he’s going to ignore that. “This ‘dumb’ show has your friend as the main performer, and you’d already bought us tickets before I even mentioned it to you,” he says, checking his reflection in the fridge. “So don’t go around acting like you don’t want to come along.”
Niall heaves a sigh and comes up next to him, ruffling a hand through Harry’s hair, which he’d been meticulously arranging in the warped metal reflection. Ignoring his cries of protest, Niall says, “C’mon, we’re going to be late to your boyfriend’s show.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Harry reminds, grabbing his wallet and keys out of a little ceramic bowl on the counter. “And you’re the one who came over late, so really this is your fault.”
They bicker the whole way to the subway stop, during the subway ride (in which they definitely are given ugly looks), and right up to the theater entrance. Harry has to step on Niall’s foot mid retort to get him to shut up once they’re inside the venue, tickets scanned by the ushers at the door.
“That was rude,” Niall grumbles under his breath, linking his arm through Harry’s and dragging him over to the bar. “You’re paying for my drink, by the way.”
Harry huffs, but doesn’t put up any verbal protest when Niall steps up to order a Guinness, adding on a vodka-cran for himself. It’s just something to sip on during the show, to dull the shock of seeing Louis on stage, devilishly handsome as he always is. They make their way to their seats, shuffling by people in their row to their seats, off to the side, but close to the front.
Even though he’s been in this exact spot a couple times before, the beauty of a stage never ceases to take his breath away. When Louis had gotten his first chance to open for a bigger artist, Harry had been so immensely proud – and then laughed when he saw how awkward on stage Louis had been. Now that he’s here for the last show of Louis’ first solo tour, he’s practically beaming with pride. Words can’t even begin to describe the fluttery feeling he has in his chest.
Niall slaps one hand down on his jiggling leg, shooting him a glare as the house lights go down. “Calm your tits,” he says quietly. “This isn’t the first time you’ve seen your boyfriend on stage before.”
“He’s not–”
The lady sitting beside him shushes him sharply, to which Harry shoots her a dark look, but settles for passive aggressively sipping at his drink with more noise than necessary. It’s stupid anyways, considering there’s people around the venue letting out enthusiastic shouts He lets the drink settle some of the jitters as the stage lights come on and the opening act steps on stage. Louis had forced him to listen to their whole album as part of his ‘education’ and he has to admit that the music is really really good.
By the time their set is over, Harry has finished his drink and there’s a pleasant buzz running through his veins. He’s far from tipsy, but the alcohol does help ease the dull shock that comes when he sees Louis burst onto stage like he owns it.
Louis’ voice sounds beautiful, belting out the opening notes to We Made It as he skips around the front of the stage, hyping the crowd up. It’s hard to stay focused on the music when Louis is up there, looking like that, sounding like that. His heart pangs with the feeling of hopeless love, hand coming up to scratch at his forearm, right where his words are. They itch sometimes, usually when he’s feeling particularly gone for Louis. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of taunting him with the partnership he can’t have.
The whole show passes in a blur, and Harry’s so thankful he thought to look up YouTube show recordings beforehand. Louis loves to grill him on the details after the show just to make sure he was paying attention like a silly game. He’s scrolling through one video as they trudge their way through the exiting crowd to the side of the stage as a refresher, Niall looking over his shoulder since he spent half the time on his phone.
“Can’t believe you were playing Fruit Ninja on your phone,” Harry says, pushing the blonde off his back once they’re by the pit area with a little more room. “Showing disrespect to Louis by not paying attention, with Fruit Ninja too! That’s not even a good game.”
Niall snorts. “First of all, don’t disrespect Fruit Ninja. Second, the only thing you paid attention to was Louis’ ass, so don’t act like you’re on some high horse.”
It’s a good thing the residual crowd noise is too loud for Niall to hear any response, since all he can do is sigh. He hates it when Niall is right (which is more often than he’d like to admit). They sidle up to the bored looking security guard who’s by the crowd barrier who casts them a glance up and down.
“Names?”
Harry has to almost repeat them twice, but they’re let through quickly, crowd noise disappearing once the door closes. The hallway to backstage is well soundproofed, people bustling by as set breakdown happens. He can tell they garner a few interested looks, but for the most part, they pass through backstage without any hassle. “Thank god,” he says. “I always forget how chaotic post show is.”
“It is crazy,” Niall agrees, stopping outside of the door that’s labeled ‘Louis Dressing Room’ and knocking . “Honestly, I can’t imagine how Lou handles it all, especially when-”
“Hazza!”
Before he can even turn his head, Harry is tackled by one lump of a human, his arms instinctively coming up to catch Louis’ legs as they wrap around his body. His face is buried in sweaty stage clothes and some of Louis’ makeup is definitely rubbing off onto his shirt, but a part of his heart settles happily in his chest.
“You did so good,” Harry says into his ear, feeling Louis squeeze back in response.
“I’m gonna throw up,” Niall mutters.
With a scoff, Louis slides down and lands on the floor, shooting Niall a raised eyebrow. “Oh are you feeling left out? I can come over and give you a big hug too–”
“No, no, no thank you,” Niall says, taking a few big steps back. “You keep your sweaty self over there and I’ll be right here.”
They stare each other down for a few seconds too long, Harry shuffling his feet awkwardly, before they both break and Niall comes to give Louis a side hug. “I’m so proud of you, man, you have no idea.” He leads Louis into his dressing room, continuing to spout praises and laud his achievements until he’s being forcefully shoved off. Niall’s always been particularly enthusiastic about his compliments, genuine in a way that makes him a great friend to have around.
“Okay, I get it,” Louis laughs, a hint of blush on his cheeks. “Did you guys like the show? D’you think I messed up? I know there was this one spot in particular during 7, y’know the high note where I think I fucked it up, sounded a little flat, did you hear it?”
Harry and Niall exchange amused looks before the blonde waves his hand in dismissal and flops down on the couch off to the side. He must have deemed this Harry’s problem to deal with – friend duties exhausted for the day.
“Lou, you sounded amazing.” Harry neglects to mention that he was not entirely paying attention since that’s not the point. “Even if you might have been off at a few points, that’s totally okay. You did your best, and that’s all anyone can ask of you.”
With a sigh, Louis plops down in his dressing chair, spinning it to look at himself in the mirror. “I know, I know, I’m just hard on myself sometimes about certain things. I just want to put on the best show that I can, be the best performer that I can for my fans.”
“You already are,” Harry says, coming up to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders. “They’re so fucking loud, Lou, they love you so much.”
“They do, don’t they?” A smile splits Louis’ face as he tips his head back to beam at Harry. “Are you one of them?”
“Of course I am. What kind of question is that?”
Snickering, Louis leans forward to pick a makeup wipe off the counter. “Just wanted to make sure that you love me.”
As if that isn’t the most loaded question of all time.
“I do love you,” Harry assures him with a gentle squeeze of his shoulders. His words itch on his forearm, right as Louis scratches over where his are, just below his left shoulder. Having seen Louis in several states of undress before, Harry knows that his are holy shit, Lou, Lou, shit. They don’t even form a real sentence, which doesn’t seem to bother Louis at all.
As far as Harry knows, Louis isn’t really bothered by the idea of his soulmate. If he meets his soulmate, great; if he doesn’t, it’s no big loss. It’s so different from Harry’s own burning desire to find his soulmate that it hurts to think about. He looks up at the mirror to see Niall eyeing him with pity, so he swallows the lump in his throat and steps away quickly.
“Anyways, hurry up, Tommo, we’ve got your celebration to get to,” Niall says, springing up from the couch. “Your first solo tour all finished!” He practically jumps Louis in his chair, the two of them squabbling away loudly, letting Harry step back for a moment.
Sometimes the whole predicament of his situation is so overwhelming, emotions getting choked up in his chest. Logically, he knows he’s in love with someone who will probably never love him back – not in the way he wants. Harry knows that he should probably just cut his losses while he’s ahead, but he just can’t. As much as it hurts to stay, the alternative would be worse.
So Harry accepts the internal pain, pastes a smile on, and joins in on the celebrations.