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“H?”
Sloppy curls peeked out from the pile of blankets and half-lidded eyes made it clear that Louis had just woken up his husband.
“What’re you doin’ on the floor, sunshine?”
“Laundry,” he said through a yawn, exposing the rest of his face to Louis. There was a knit pattern printed into his cheek, clearly having rested there for long enough to be warmed an innocent pink.
“Looks to me you’re havin’ a nap.”
“Nuh-uh,” Harry snuggled down into the blankets again, only his eyes peeking out just as the machine beeped to indicate its cycle had finished. “See? Laundry.”
Louis sat down next to Harry and lifted up the pile of blankets to slide himself under as well. A displeased Harry wriggled around when the cold air invaded his blanket burrow, but he sighed in pleasure when Louis pulled him in to rest his head on his chest.
“Why so sleepy, hm? S’only half past one.” Louis kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back.
“Just am.” He squeezed the arm around Louis’ chest in a little half-hug. “Did so much today.”
“What’d you do, beautiful?”
“Laundry.”
Harry could feel Louis’ chest move with the little laugh, and he pressed his cheek in harder, trying his best to give Louis all of his love and more with just his touch.
“Oh, you’ve been so very busy, love. That sounds exhaustin’. This why you didn’t answer the phone earlier?”
With only a quiet grunt in response, Harry hooked his leg around both of Louis’ and pulled himself to be halfway on top of him. If he wanted a cuddle, he would get himself a cuddle.
“You’re so rude,” he mumbled into Louis’ neck, but the smile was obvious in his voice. “You don’t even like me, do you?”
“Nope. Not one bit.”
Without warning, Louis rolled Harry onto his back and straddled his hips, leaning over him so they were almost nose to nose.
“I love you.” He leaned down to kiss his sweet, sleepy partner. “Mm, you smell good.”
“Well, I had a shower.” Harry wrinkled his nose. “Maybe you should too, smelly.”
“I’m so not smelly,” Louis’ attempt at mock horror was weak, not quite having the emotional range to be as playful as he usually would after such a long and stressful morning of meetings. He spent hours bargaining and arguing over a pre-determined schedule of stunts, social media posts, and outings with Eleanor that the management team insisted would create a believable narrative for heterosexual father bad boy ex-boybander Louis Tomlinson. Those were some of his least favourite conversations for obvious reasons, so he never told Harry when they were happening. He didn’t want to cause his husband any worry or stress over what was Louis’ problem. It was his problem, not Harry’s. He signed the contract, so it was his cross to bear.
“Smoky,” Harry noted with a disapproving frown.
He pulled Louis down so they were lying chest-to-chest. The older man was quiet for a while, just enjoying his sweet Harry before he sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, his words warming the side of Louis’ neck.
“Who says somethin’s wrong?”
“Me.” A long kiss was pressed to the side of his face. “Smoked more than usual today. I can smell it.”
“M’fine, love.” A guilty Louis didn’t want to ruin Harry’s well-deserved calm, one of those perfect days that seemed so few and far between. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me.”
“Won’t let you go ’til you’re honest,” Harry insisted, tightening his hold around Louis.
“S’fine, H. Seriously.”
“Louis—”
“Harry, stop it. I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it,” he snapped, burrowing his face into Harry’s shoulder. “M’sorry. I jus’ don’t… I wanna be with you. Pretend nothin’ else exists, only me and you.”
Trying not to be upset by his husband’s attitude, Harry hummed in understanding and patted Louis’ back.
“Let’s get outta this mess then, angel.” Harry, with minimal struggle, managed to stand up while Louis still clung on with arms around his neck. He was taken aback by the ease with which his husband carried him around as if he weighed nothing at all.
“Who let you be that strong?”
“Who let you be so small and cute?” Harry teased him, kissing Louis’ cheek when he pouted, taking offence to the comment about his size.
“Alright, setting you down now, tiny,” Harry warned as he approached their bed, and Louis released his arms to plop down onto the mattress. He didn’t smile at his husband, though. He gave him a brow-furrowing frown, looking rather adorable while so disgruntled.
“What, is it ‘cos I called you small?” Louis nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. Wanting to make it up to him, Harry bent down and gave his forehead a gentle kiss before bumping their noses together and waiting for Louis to connect their lips. He did almost immediately, bringing one hand to rest on Harry’s hip and tugging the waistband of his shorts to urge him onto the bed as well.
“Much better up here,” Louis commented, and Harry had to agree that their fluffy bed felt exponentially more comfortable than hardwood flooring.
“Much,” he agreed, shuffling to get comfortable beneath Louis’ body as the man had draped himself over the top of him. He ran a hand through his husband’s hair and gave him a little grin. “I like this cut on you.”
“S’what I always have.”
“And I like it. Still miss that long hair, though.” His fingers expertly massaged Louis’ head and the man nearly purred at how amazing it felt. “Would you ever bring that back?”
“Eh, not likely,” he said simply, knowing that he’d probably never sport that look again—not unless another pandemic shut down the hairdresser for a year, at least.
“Pleeease, Lou? For me?” Harry begged with a pouty lip, but Louis poked it back into place.
“Well, what about you? I been askin’ for your long hair back for ages.” It was Louis’ turn to scratch Harry’s head, feeling the slow-growing curls that slid so easily through his fingers. “Miss it loads. Loved givin’ you little plaits. Grow it again, baby, c’mon.”
“Maybe one day. Maybe.” That was a big maybe. Harry would love it, sure, but he certainly didn’t miss the tangles and knots that built up after a night of restless sleep, giving him one more thing to be irritated about on difficult days.
“Well, someone’s gotta have the long locks. I reckon it should be you, princess.”
“Or you. There’s two of us, y’know.”
“Or we could—” he trailed off for a moment, pressing lips sweetly onto Harry’s jaw, “—have more than two.”
“We could what?”
“Have kids.”
Harry’s hands stopped in their tracks, resting heavily on his husband’s back. He was shocked by the sudden admission of Louis’ desires. It wasn’t as if Louis didn’t want children, it’s just that Harry was the one always daydreaming about their future, pestering Louis about the little ones that he would dote on day in and day out.
“I— we… you would… what?”
“I wanna have kids with you. A few baby Harrys runnin’ ‘round, more long curls to plait and little dresses and tiny footballs. A little family.”
“You can’t be serious,” Harry said quietly, and Louis couldn’t determine what his tone carried.
“D’you… not want that?”
“I—” Harry paused, breath trapped in his throat as he thought of what to say, “—I do. So bad. But you’ve said—”
“I know what I’ve said, but think about it. We could drop everythin’. Leave our houses here, leave America. Run away, go to Italy. Go off the grid, I don't care. Then we would do whatever we want, Harry, we could do anythin’. The two of us. I’ll go anywhere, baby, if it’s jus’ us.”
Harry carefully rolled over to rest Louis on his side so they could be face-to-face.
“We can’t do that, Lou,” he breathed.
“What’s holdin’ us back?” Louis was almost desperate, biting his lower lip hard enough that Harry reached out to run his thumb over it to encourage it to be freed. That wasn’t a question that needed to be answered. Harry knew that his husband already had a list in mind of what and who it was that might be stopping them.
“What’s brought this on, hm? You never get like this — are you okay?”
“No, H. I’m not okay. I want a family with you. I want you.”
“You have me, Louis. Always have me,” Harry promised, the most sincere he’d ever been.
“But I want more, and I know you do too,” he said, determined eyes refusing to let go of Harry’s. “Don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I want all of you all the time, but aren’t you always the one reminding me that—”
Louis continued interrupting Harry, something he only did when he was particularly riled up, for reasons good or bad.
“I don’t care anymore.”
“Well, that’s just not true, is it?” It hurt Harry’s heart when Louis’ eyes teared up. “Hey now, honey, we’re alright. Oh, Louis — don’t cry, baby.”
Harry pulled Louis in, lying on his back so the man could cling to his side and rest his face against his heart.
“Where’s this coming from, love? Who’s got you so upset?”
A very long silence stretched on as Louis rubbed his cheek against Harry’s chest, finding a comfortable place to rest. He didn’t want to talk—not about this—but he knew it would be coaxed out of him anyway.
“You,” he whispered, and Harry stopped breathing. Before he could begin to apologise for whatever he’d done, Louis elaborated. “Watched your behind-the-scenes thing, you holdin’ that little baby on set for the video. I remembered how sweet it was, now I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it. That was so fuckin’ cute, H, and I want that t’be us every day. I want it now.”
Harry felt Louis’ breath shake as he sniffled, so he squeezed him tighter in the hopes that surrounding him with Harry would be enough to help him come back before he even broke down.
“Louis, darling, I love you so much, but—” Louis let out a silent sob, so a kiss was planted to the top of his head “—we can’t have that yet.”
“But when? Harry, m’already thirty.” His throat was tight, struggling to keep his emotions in check the way he wanted to even with the comfort of his husband’s presence.
“I’m not sure wh—”
Before Harry could finish his sentence, Louis burst into tears. It was like the wind was knocked out of Harry with the way he ached from the sound, but he collected himself and scooped his husband as close as possible to his body.
“Shh, baby, we’re okay. It's alright.”
“N-no we’re n-not o-kay.” He got out through his sobs, hardly able to speak. “I ca- I can’t—”
His breaths started to speed up which, when paired with the tears, had him gasping for air. The sound reminded Harry of himself, though he wasn’t quite sure if using his inhaler on Louis was necessary or safe. Instead, he slowly rose up, still holding Louis close as he sat against the headboard. One hand held the back of his head while the other curled around his back, rubbing his thumb up and down Louis’ skin where it peeked out beneath his shirt.
“You’re safe with me, Louis.” Harry took a slow, deep inhale, and the rising of his chest moved Louis' body the slightest bit. He continued to take purposeful breaths while rubbing Louis’ back and speaking gentle reassurances into his hair. There were no complaints when short fingernails dug into Harry’s skin or tears wet his shirt—they only made him dote on Louis harder. It took a long time before Louis could start calming down, but Harry’s encouragement was a big help.
“That’s it, just breathe. Breathe.” The whisper made Louis shiver, something he was sure Harry noticed but made no comment on. “Good job, angel. You’re so good, Lou.”
Louis shook his head, his hair tickling Harry’s chin with the motion.
“You are.”
“You are too. You’re such a good boy, Lou. So strong, so brave, so lovely. You’re my good, sweet boy,” Harry reassured him, hoping that he could get through to his husband.
“M’bein’ stu-stupid, sorry.”
“You’re not being stupid, love. It’s alright to get upset, have a little cry.”
“Embarrassin’,” he mumbled, sniffling shyly and hanging his head low.
“Even after all this time?” When he nodded, Harry put a finger below his chin and tilted his head up. “Feels better though, doesn’t it?”
“Little bit. I don’t wanna t-talk ‘bout it anymore.”
“I kinda think we should. Maybe this evening?”
“Don’t wanna. S’embarrasin’.”
“Darling, do you remember when I cried last year ‘cos I was drunk and you told me I can’t get pregnant? That’s embarrassing.” He gave Louis a small grin. “But I do think it’d be so cool. Not the whole throwing up bit or the actual giving birth, but like, the baby being in there part.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Louis mumbled.
“Maybe I am, but I’m also serious. I think we should talk about this.”
“There’s nothin’ to say, H. If we can’t have kids, we can’t have kids. Simple as that.” Harry sighed at his husband’s dejection as he tried to think up a way to agree while not sounding as hopeless as he felt. “Like, I love this. This job, you, but s’like everythin’ gets in the way of us havin’ what we always wanted.”
“You got a lotta sisters,” Harry said through a mouthful of crisps, and Louis turned to look at him.
“Well spotted, love.”
A finger was held up, asking Louis to wait a moment while he finished chewing his snack.
“D’you like it?”
“Like what?”
There was an awkward pause while the boy continued to eat his crisps, and Louis rolled his eyes fondly before grabbing a handful for himself.
“Kids.”
Thinking back on it, Louis had always felt very connected to his sisters, even when they were small. He felt it was his responsibility to take them under his wing and help them grow, to give them all the support they needed because that’s what a good brother would do.
“Guess so, yeah. They can be absolute terrors, though. Why?”
“Oh, I dunno,” Harry went shy, fussing with his curls to avoid eye contact with his boyfriend. “I kinda was thinking that maybe one day we could have a family. Me, you, two kids, a cat, maybe a dog or two… if you would want that, I mean.”
The sentence was finished quickly—well, quicker than his usual slow drawl—and Harry’s heart pounded when Louis seemed puzzled.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Let’s give it a few years ‘fore we think on that, H. You’re still a kid yourself.” Sensing his tension, Louis slid closer to him on the sofa and put an arm around Harry’s waist, digging between his back and the cushion to wrap it around him.
“I’m almost eighteen—” Harry pointed out indignantly, “—and I didn’t mean now. Just… later.”
He waited for Louis to laugh at him, to take away the comforting hand on his hip and leave the room, to break up with him and tell all their mates how stupid he was being, but instead, he got a sweet smile and a nod.
“Later.”
“That’s a yes?”
Louis grabbed Harry’s legs beneath the knees and hoisted them up to swing over his own, tugging the kid into his lap
“Absolutely yes, sunshine. I’ll buy you the most beautiful home, few extra bedrooms in for the little ones. But—” he gave Harry a soft kiss and murmured against his lips, "—later."
“Occupational hazard, I guess,” Harry joked lightly, but it wasn’t the time for humour.
“I’d give it all up in a heartbeat for you—” Louis insisted, “—but I know you don’t want that.”
“Ah, no. That makes me sound like a dickhead,” Harry blushed a deep red as guilt pooled in his stomach, but Louis shook his head.
“I don’t blame you. Not at all. I mean, look at you.” He paused to give him a proud, watery smile. “Everythin’ you done, it’s… you’re incredible.”
“You’re more incredible,” Harry whispered back, swallowing hard at the sudden burning in his eyes and grabbing one of Louis’ hands with both of his own.
“No, love. M’not like you, never have been. You know that.” He wiped away his tear before reaching out to get Harry’s, stopping it before it could slide down his cheek. “Some people are born for the spotlight, some jus’ get damn lucky t’hold it for a moment. S’jus’ the way things are. Oh, please don’t cry, H. I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t help but let a few tears slip out with Louis’ words, with the admission that even after years of conversations and assurances, he still felt lesser than his partner.
“D’you really think that? That I’m… better than you?”
Louis didn't answer the question directly.
“It’s alright with me. I got lucky enough t’have you. Your attention’s better than anythin’ the world could offer me.”
Harry shook his head, mouth still open in shock at what Louis admitted so freely. It was the way it didn’t seem to hurt him at all, the feelings of inferiority became completely neutral, almost as if he was comparing their haircuts, not the trajectory of their lives and who they were as individuals.
“You— m’not. I’m not better. Don’t ever say that, Louis, it-it… it’s just not right. It’s not.”
“Harry, whose songs get played on radio? Who’s done multiple tours? Who’s won a Grammy? Coachella, stadiums, Madison Square Garden — that’s you, not me.”
“That means nothing. It doesn’t make me better than you.”
“What does it make you, then?”
“Just… different.” Louis let out a sharp breath through his nose at the non-answer. “I’m-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
It seemed Harry had never thought about how the magnitude of his success cast a shadow over his husband’s accomplishments. Louis clearly didn't picture himself as the successful, accomplished man that his husband saw. No matter how much Harry praised and bragged about him and put the man up on the highest pedestal, it couldn’t possibly feel the same.
“Don’t be. M’not bitter about it. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, love, but sometimes—” he let out a long breath as he tried to word his thoughts, “—never mind. I don’t wanna say it.”
“No, please say it.”
“I don’t wanna.” He brushed it off in the hopes that Harry would drop it, but he was persistent.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Say it.”
“I said no, H,” he grumbled, getting irritated with the lack of respect for his request.
“Louis…”
“I love you more than anythin’ in the world and I’m so damn happy for you, but sometimes I wish you weren’t so fuckin’ perfect ‘cos if y’didn’t have all these amazin’ opportunities maybe we could finally break contract and settle down and have a fuckin’ family like everyone else. If you were more like me, we’d have nothin’ to lose. I said it. You happy now?”
Harry was dead quiet, blank-faced as he stared over Louis’ shoulder. A whole minute passed where Harry did nothing but look at the immaculately painted wall of their beautifully decorated bedroom in the house they could only afford because of their years of combined success and sheer dumb luck. It wasn’t all him. It was Louis too. Louis was just as much a part of this as he was—they were always a package deal.
“Harry, I’m sorry.” Louis set a shaky hand on his shoulder. “H.”
“I’ll quit,” he breathed. “I will.”
“I don’t want you to,” Louis said firmly.
“I’ll quit, Lou, I promise. I’m sorry. I’ll stop right now, I swear it.”
He was in obvious distress as he begged the man to believe him, and Louis was kicking himself for allowing his feelings to surface in such an explosive way.
“Louis. I’m sorry,” Harry repeated with a sniffle.
That made Louis positively lose it. He launched himself into Harry’s arms, not objecting when he was pulled in with hands under his thighs to guide him onto his husband’s lap. He sobbed into Harry’s shoulder, not aware that he could possibly make any more tears after what he’d already done that day, and he felt Harry clinging to him as tight as he possibly could.
“Don’t-don’t quit. I-I’m bein’ sel-selfish,” he insisted through his tears.
“I’m being selfish,” Harry countered. “It’s what we’ve always, always wanted and I’m holding us back.”
That only made Louis cry harder, no longer embarrassed by his breakdown because he was too consumed by his emotions to possibly process any of them. It started to genuinely worry Harry since it was most often him who grew so overwhelmed by emotion, not his husband.
“Louis, honey, slow down,” Harry sniffled away his own tears, trying to get the man to return to reality, but he wasn’t helping. “My love, take a breath with me.”
Harry took deep, shaky breaths, trying to get Louis to copy him by tracing fingers up and down his spine—it hardly helped. Louis was in too deep, and it seemed he’d need to cry it all out. That was incredibly unusual for his husband, Harry thought, but he would do what he did best—love Louis endlessly.
“I know it’s hard, baby, and it’s alright to cry. You’re so strong, Louis. You’re the greatest partner I could ever ask for. You’re beyond anything I could’ve ever dreamed of. I’m so unbelievably blessed to have you in my life, and you are incredible. You’re the most incredible man in the world, Lou, and I adore you more than you’ll ever know. You know that? I hope you do, darling.”
It was heartbreaking how long Louis wept in his arms, but Harry stayed steady, holding him tight and giving everything he could to the man who gave all of himself to a world so undeserving of his presence.
“You know how important you are to me, right?” Harry whispered with his lips just barely brushing Louis’ forehead. He felt Louis nod subtly, but he still needed to affirm it further. “You’re everything. There’s nothing — nothing — I wouldn’t do for you. If you want to call it quits and move to a deserted island, I’ll do that. If you want me to build you a treehouse in the middle of a jungle, I will. I’d die for you, Louis.”
“Don’t do that,” he mumbled shakily, tightening his grip on Harry’s shirt and pressing his face harder into his shoulder.
“Well I don’t exactly plan on it, but I would do it.” Harry adjusted Louis on his lap so that he had to pull his face out of hiding. “I’m so incredibly lucky to have you. I dunno, I must’ve done something amazing in a past life ‘cos there’s no fucking way I’ve done shit in this one to deserve the love you give. I’m far prouder of you than I could be of any of my own shit. You’ve earned everything you ever got, and I truly admire you. You’re the most selfless, kind, and beautiful soul, Lou, and I’m so hopelessly, ridiculously in love with you.”
All Louis could do was gaze up at his partner with glistening eyes and a soft hand on his thigh, having let the shirt free from between his fingers.
“You’re so handsome, my love,” Harry whispered, running a finger down Louis’ cheek to wipe away a tear track.
Louis’ eyes were bloodshot and his nose was blocked from the constant tears, but the slightly parted lips and flushed cheeks made him look just as precious and perfect as ever. He shook his head and pulled himself back into Harry, pressing his nose into the side of his throat as he tucked himself safely into the familiarity of his husband’s body.
“You are. You’re my angel. Even when you sniffle all over my shirt.”
He gently poked fun at his husband and craned his neck to kiss his hair. Louis didn’t seem embarrassed in the slightest, on the contrary, he nuzzled closer into Harry. He could feel warm breath on his collarbone as Louis unsuccessfully held back a yawn. If there was one thing Harry knew about caring for Louis, it was that having a little nap after he cried was a common occurrence. Whether it was immediately or an hour later, it was something Harry encouraged. He could tell that Louis’ head was already aching from the whole experience, and giving himself time to turn things off and rest was key in making sure he didn’t develop a migraine. Each time, if he didn’t tire himself out enough from the intensity of his feelings, Harry would gently scratch his back until he went under.
“Someone sleepy?”
“No,” murmured a clearly sleepy Louis.
“I think you are, honey,” he pointed out as he shuffled down from his seated position and encouraged Louis to copy him, “so let’s close our eyes for a few.”
“Not sleepy,” Louis insisted weakly, yawning again as he attached himself to his husband.
“Close your eyes, babe.” Harry kissed his forehead, and the pressing of those lips on his skin was like flipping a light switch. The older man’s body sank down into Harry’s and he sighed in satisfaction at the way he was warmed by the contact.
“Mm, H.”
“I love you too, Louis. I love you too.”