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Louis liked to think he was a bit of an expert at carrying too many things. Still, sometimes he challenged himself. Like right now, he was trying to keep several bags with takeout level as he turned the door with his elbow and pushed the door open with his bum, backing in slowly.
If only Harry could see him now. He’d appreciate the artistry it took.
But instead Louis just breathed a sigh of relief as he set the bags on the kitchen counter and went back to lock the door. Harry would be home soon, and Louis was glad he would be able to feed him and turn his hanger into sleepy cuddly angel.
Louis shot off a text to Harry that the food had arrived then hopped in the shower. When he went to pull on clean underwear his fingers brushed against the velvet box in the back of his drawer, and he felt his mood dim just a bit.
Normally his drawer didn’t get empty enough that he was reminded about the box. It was Harry’s chore. He usually did the laundry in a timely manner, but lately he’d been so busy with work and exhausted from a weeks-long sinus infection that he was behind. Louis added laundry to his mental checklist for the night. He might not be as good at folding as Harry, but it was better to get it done and take it off Harry’s plate.
The door opened and the sounds of keys being hung up and boots kicked off pulled a smile onto Louis’ face. His boy was home.
He skidded into the kitchen on his socks and pecked Harry’s cheek. “Welcome home, Haz. Foods getting cold!”
Harry lightly bumped his nose against Louis’. “Let’s eat then. I’m starved.”
They grabbed dishes and napkins and settled onto the couch facing each other, crossed legs pressed together, before dishing out rice and curry.
Harry was failing to use his chopsticks to eat his rice, as he had been doing for most of the six years Louis had known him. His persistence in the face of abysmal results was just as endearing as it was funny. He pressed a curried kiss to Harry’s lips.
Harry made a sound of surprise, eyebrows going up. When he swallowed his bite, he poked his chopsticks at Louis in faux indignation. “I’m not that kind of boy!”
“Dinner before a kiss, even on our 900th date. What a high-class man.” Louis winked.
Harry laughed. “Is this a date?”
“Well it’s our Wednesday night curry, so it’s a casual sort-of date right?”
“Yeah,” Harry smiled softly, “you’re right.”
Louis smiled back at him, fighting the urge to lean in and give him another kiss. Instead he rubbed his toes against Harry’s shin, a tiny little caress, and asked, “So how was your day?”
“Long again. They expect me to do more than is reasonable because they can’t hire more people. It’s a battle between the budget and creative minds with grand ideas. I’m one of the main victims.” Louis hummed his disapproval. “The stuff I’m making is really cool though—such fun costumes for fantastically interesting characters. I just wish I had more time to work on it, so I didn’t feel like I was constantly behind, you know?”
“They might need to realign their grand ideas with reality a little bit, but I know it’s hard to help them see that.”
Harry sighed. “Yeah, they are not super interested in reality that infringes on their artistic vision.”
Louis hummed. “It’s not a fair situation, but you’re doing your best.”
“Thanks, Lou. I’ll just need this reminder every day for the next month until the show opens.”
Louis smiled. “I can do that.”
“How was your day?” Harry asked.
“Pretty normal. I mostly just stuffed envelopes with letters to potential donors. It’s dull work, but it obviously is necessary. My favorite kid came in and offered to help though, which was great. We put on a little Shania to grove to while we worked, so I thought of you.” Louis had been surprised that younger people still knew Shania, but the kids who came to the community activity center he worked at always surprised him.
Harry grinned. “The kids are alright, eh?”
“Yeah, he liked it!”
“Was that Jackson?”
“Nah it was Tyler.”
“Tyler’s the one who always uses the foosball table, right?”
“Yeah. And sometimes I beat him.”
“Suuuuure,” Harry said with a shit-eating grin. He knew how much that riled up Louis’s competitive streak.
“You know I’m not half bad. Stop it.” Louis rolled his eyes and set his empty plate aside while Harry giggled. “So what’s the plan for this Saturday with Gemma? Has she given you any more details?” They were going to help Harry’s sister move, but the plan was entirely unclear.
“I think she said we meet her at her old place at 8 a.m. with your car and then we just start loading ours and hers and taking trips? The new place is a 25-minute drive away.” Harry sets his dishes on the coffee table and adjusts himself on the couch, leaning into Louis. “It will be a long day.”
“We’ll need to be careful not to hurt your back. Have you been doing your exercises?”
“Yeah, I have. I think it will be alright.”
Louis wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, letting him snuggle in. “Okay. We’ll just keep an eye on it.”
Harry nodded, yawning. “You know, I was thinking that there would be better jobs or at least more costume designer jobs in a bigger city. More theater and culture and all that.”
Louis had thought the same thing, but he didn’t want to say it in case it made Harry feel like Louis wasn’t proud of Harry for landing his first professional job in his dream career. “Well, I know there are other great non-profits that need a fundraiser. I’m sure I could find a job somewhere else if we moved.”
Harry shifted, picking his head up. “I mean, you wouldn’t have to come.”
Louis stared at his boyfriend of six years for a moment, genuinely unable to comprehend the words. “Why wouldn’t I come?”
“I just mean—you don’t need to change your life just because I want to change mine.”
Louis’ brain was whirling with solutions. He could buy train tickets. He could borrow his coworker’s car. “We could make long distance work, but I mean, I want to go where you are Harry.”
Harry pulled away from Louis’ side, staring out the window at the night sky. “It might just be something I need to do for me.”
“Right.” Louis breathed through the panic he was feeling. There had been a pattern of this lately, of Harry acting like Louis wasn’t a package deal with him. “If moving to a big city makes you happy then I want that, too. Just not sure if we can stay there forever. I know cities aren’t great for kids, but we have time.”
Harry pulled back to look at Louis. “You mean the little twins? They’re getting older now; I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“Oh, um. I sorta meant family, but I mostly meant like…our kids?” Harry had been talking about wanting kids since the day he met Louis at 16. Louis had been dreaming about having kids with Harry for nearly as long. They used to talk about it, dreaming up their lives from Harry’s single bed before they had any idea what the world was really like. “Someday, you know?”
“Ah gotcha.” Harry stood up and started clearing the dishes, carrying them into the kitchen and standing with his back to Louis at the sink.
Louis started to follow before he noticed how Harry’s shoulder twitched up at the sound of his footsteps.
“You alright, Haz?”
“Yeah. Thanks for dinner!” Harry’s voice was too bright. Louis stared at the tattoos on Harry’s arm—tattoos that matched his own. He wanted to ask so many questions, but it was clear Harry didn’t want to talk. So he turned and went to do the laundry.
When he put away his freshly laundered underwear, he buried the ring box as deep as possible in the drawer and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. After his first day of at his grown up full-time job, Harry had come over and cooked him dinner to celebrate. After his second day, Louis had stopped in a jewelry shop in his still-stiff new job outfit—that Harry had pressed—and stared at rings until someone helped him. He already knew Harry’s ring size; he’d bought Harry rings before, but none of them meant as much as this one. When he walked out of the shop with a bag, he had felt so hopeful, so certain about what the future held.
He’d just been waiting for the right moment to pop the question. He waited for Harry to graduate and then get settled into his career. The right moment hadn’t come.
Lately he had started to worry he had gotten way of ahead of himself.
But that was ridiculous. Louis shook his head. They were perfect together. The dream team. They were practically married already with how their lives and families were interwoven. It was just a hard time for Harry with so much going on. Louis could wait a little bit longer. It would be the right moment soon.
~~~
It was two weekends later, at their friend Niall’s birthday party, that things really went to shit. Niall’s boyfriend Shawn got down on one knee, right there next to his sparkling birthday cake with friends and family surrounding them.
“Niall, my love. The last year and half have been the best of my life. And you know what they say, when you know what you want for the rest of your life, you want it to start now.”
Niall was shaking and crying as he said, “Yes.”
“I haven’t even asked you yet, babe!” Shawn laughed.
“Okay then hurry up.”
Shawn paused dramatically before asking, “Will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
The guests cheered and clapped as they kissed, and Shawn slid the ring onto Niall’s finger.
It was a beautiful moment—everything he knew Niall wanted—but there was a bitterness in Louis’ mouth that had him swallowing and pulling out his phone as a distraction.
Zayn stage whispered to Harry, “I bet you can’t wait till this bum finally pops the question.” His gaze flickered mischievously to Louis. “Been long enough, eh?”
Louis froze in his seat.
In his peripheral vision he saw Harry take a sip of his drink beside him. “No. I mean,” he shook his head, “I don’t think about it that way.”
“Come on,” Zayn teased.
“No, really. I’m not waiting for him to ask me. I just don’t really think I’m ready for that right now. You know?” Louis closed his eyes, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.
“Oh yeah, gotcha.” Zayn’s voice was light, strained, and Louis would bet if he opened his eyes, he’d see regret on Zayn’s face.
Louis stood up and just walked away from the party. Harry wasn’t ready for that. They had been together for practically their entire lives—since Harry was 16 and Louis was 18. They were like an extension of each other. They had moved in together three years ago, had shared expenses and chores and friends and family dinners and everything else.
Louis couldn’t imagine his life without Harry. Couldn’t image his future without Harry. HarryandLouis was all he ever wanted for the rest of his life.
But apparently Harry—the same boy who used to daydream about what his wedding might look like--didn’t ever think about getting married. How were they living in such different realities?
Louis sank down to his knees in the grass.
“Lou are you okay?” Harry’s voice came from a few feet away. “You just ran off and—oh honey.” He reached Louis and started petting his back. “Too much to drink already?”
Louis shook his head, crawling away from Harry’s touch. “You don’t think about marrying me?”
“Oh.” Harry frowned, sitting down properly on the ground facing Louis. “I-I just feel so young. I don’t know what I want with my life and my future. I don’t want to… commit to something before I’m ready. I’ve never even dated anyone else.”
“What? What are you saying, Harry?”
“I mean—the rest of my life? That’s scary.” Harry took a deep breath. “I’m changing all the time. You’re changing, too. Doesn’t that scare you?”
“No that doesn’t scare me.” Louis fell back onto the dirt and stared up at the sky. “I have known what I’ve wanted for years. Not everything, but the most important things. And you – Harry – you were always right there in every plan and dream.”
“Lou—”
“No. Stop it, Harry.” He wiped the tears that were started to streak down to his temples. “I don’t—I don’t get it. I thought we were in this together. We used to talk about it, about having a house and a family.” He sat up, voice getting louder. “The other day you just casually said you wanted to move to the city on your own. Without me? What the fuck, Haz?”
Harry was crying too. “I just don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t have to know what you’re doing with anything except me.” Louis was shouting now. “You have to know about me. Since when did you not know about me?”
Harry was knelt in the dirt, sobbing silently in the dying light of dusk.
Louis couldn’t even look at him. He closed his eyes as he said, “I’ve had a ring hidden for two years now.”
Harry choked out, “Two years?”
“Yeah. When you know, you know, right?” Louis laughed bitterly. “I’ve been waiting for you to get settled into your career, waiting for a good moment, all the while expecting you will say yes. But I’ve been living in some sort of false reality, apparently.”
Harry started whimpering. “Lou—”
“Would you even say yes?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Wow. That’s. Wow.” Louis scrubbed his hands over his face. His delusional hope was built on ignoring his instinct that something was wrong. Everything is wrong. He felt like he was literally tearing apart—a rending in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
Harry was hiccupping now. “We’re so young, Louis. We have time. We—"
“Stop. We should take a break. You go do whatever you want to do, like date other people,” he spat.
“No, no, Lou,” Harry whimpered.
“Because I can’t keep being with you—giving you everything—when you aren’t…when you don’t….” Louis trailed off, unable to say the words. He wishes he was sobbing, but the tears that have been leaking down his face haven’t given him that catharsis. Instead he was trembling with some poorly contained rage of pain and confusion.
He heaved himself off the ground and ignored the roiling in his stomach. “I’m going to get an uber home. You can have the car. Give me a head start, so I can get my things before you get home.”
He left Harry crumbled on the ground, and he didn’t even really feel sorry. He marched up to Zayn. “I’m going to be staying with you. It’s your damn fault, and you can’t say no.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not in the mood to explain, but I need you to come help me get my shit.”
“Where’s Harry—is he okay?”
“He’s over there.” Louis gestured toward the steadily darkening edge of the yard.
Zayn pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. “I’ve told somebody to check on him.”
“Whatever,” Louis mumbled. “Let’s just go.”
They were silent in the car and worked swiftly to grab things Louis needed at the apartment. Louis wasn’t in the mood to talk. He did almost start crying when he grabbed his toothbrush from next to Harry’s and then again when he scooped his underwear into a bag and the ring box came with them. He had half a mind to chuck it into the nearest garbage, but he didn’t. It cost too much money.
When they got to Zayn’s place, Louis set about finding sheets and making up the blow-up mattress he was intimately acquainted with from late nights that turned into sleepovers. This was a bit different, but he couldn’t let himself dwell on it.
Zayn found him a towel and grabbed him a glass of water. He looked like he wanted to say a lot, ask a lot, but one glare from Louis had him scampering off. Louis couldn’t say he slept well, but he slept, and in the morning, he deleted all the notifications from Harry on his phone. He didn’t care what he had to say.
Zayn stumbled into the kitchen a few hours later to find Louis staring out the window, crying over a cup of coffee. He plopped onto the stool next to him. “What’s going on? I have to be able to understand.”
“Harry and I broke up.”
“You—what?”
“I’ve had a ring for years. I’ve been waiting to ask.”
“Ah. He shocked me last night when he said he wasn’t really thinking about marriage.”
“Exactly. And there’s been more, all these weird things. Like he acted surprised I wanted a ticket to the opening night of the show he’s working on. And he recently told me it didn’t matter if I come with him if he moves to another city.”
“What?”
“I know. It blew my mind. And then last night when we were fighting, I asked him what he’d say if I proposed. He said he didn’t know. He said he can’t know if I’m the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with when he hasn’t even dated other people.”
“Fuck. So he broke up with you?”
Louis laughed. “No. I did. I told him he can go see if there’s someone else he wants to spend his life with,” he said bitterly. “It wasn’t like I thought it out, but I can’t be around him right now either.”
Zayn hums. “So how are you doing?”
Louis rubs at the drying tears on his face and laughs dryly. “Pretty bad. My whole life was based around this…assumption that he was going to be there with me, but now it’s all just gone to shit. Did I make it all up?”
“No. You didn’t make it up.”
“It feels like I did,” Louis whispered, voice cracking as a lump grew in his throat.
Zayn wraps him in his arms, whispering, “It’s okay. I got you.”
~~~~~
The next day was Monday, and Louis went to work feeling hollow. The kids showed up and pulled him out of it though. It was impossible to stay dead inside around them. Instead there was something solid and sure coming together, a sense that he could navigate this.
He didn’t check his phone. Harry had sent a lot of messages, but Louis was unable deal with whatever he had to say.
When he got home he took a shower and ate a solid meal and then he recorded a voice note to Harry.
“Hey H. Here’s my proposal.” He chuckled mirthlessly at the pun. “Take a month to be single. See what else is out there. Figure out your head. Then I’m going to propose to you, and if you can’t say yes…..” Louis swallowed hard. “If you can’t say yes, then it’s time for me to move on. I’m not gonna text you or hang out with you in the meantime. I need space, too. Cheers.”
It didn’t feel incredible to throw that type of ultimatum at Harry, but he was angry and hurt. Plus he couldn’t live in limbo forever. After six years he needed Harry to want a future with him, and if he couldn’t have that, he needed to start rebuilding a life that’s separate from Harry. Even though the idea of that felt impossible.
He just had to hope that Harry would realize what they’re fighting for. He had to hope Harry will come out of this his.
~~~
Louis couldn’t go out with his usual group of friends and complain about Harry, so instead he called in his hometown mates. That first weekend alone wasn’t lonely when he was surrounded by his drunkest and stupidest friends, chanting and cheering and dancing the nights away. But when they all had to go home, he was left with a hangover on a blow-up mattress wondering where Harry was, what he was doing.
Zayn refused to drop any hints about Harry even though Louis knew that Zayn knew. “You said you wanted space from him too, dude. So leave it be.”
Louis would glare at him, hating the way he was being held to his own words. Was Harry doing okay? Maybe he was devastated and couldn’t eat or sleep. Maybe he was unable to continue to work and the show had been cancelled. Louis searched up the show, but of course it hadn’t been cancelled and Harry’s name was still listed as the costume designer.
Maybe Harry had just been waiting for Louis to leave so he could live it up. Maybe Harry was going out every single night, making out with strange men, grinding on them. He probably had so many different dicks up his arse already.
No, if Louis knew Harry at all--which he actually wasn’t so sure he did anymore--then Harry would have a new boyfriend-type. He’d be going on coffee dates and zoo dates and making them breakfast after they fucked long into the night and again when they woke up. They’d take fucking bubble baths together and naked selfies and probably adopt a dog.
Louis was fine with that. Of course. He obviously was completely stable and fine and didn’t care what stupid stupid Harry did.
“AHHHHHHH” he screamed, shoving his plate off the counter. It made a fantastic noise as it broke.
Zayn looked up at him and with an unimpressed scowl.
Louis stood up and screamed again. He stomped his feet and shadow boxed and howled.
“Clean it up, and get it together.”
“I hate you.”
“You owe me a plate. It’s custom from an artist collective in London, so you should probably start saving up.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’ll fucking kill you mate.”
“Sure.”
~~~
Louis spent a lot of time zoning out thinking about what Harry might be doing. These nightmarish daydreams almost always involved Harry out in a bar in a gauzy shirt letting someone taller than him buy him drinks while he giggled and licked his lips. Sometimes Harry would get up and start dancing, sultry in his special clumsy way, and the stranger would grind against him until they ran off to the bathrooms for messy quick mutual orgasms that made Louis snap back to reality because he inevitably dug his nails into his skin so hard he left marks.
Because, inevitably, he had realized that Harry couldn’t have had time to find a new boyfriend already. Instead he was out there experiencing what it meant to be a hot young single gay man. They’d spent their entire young adult lives monogamously devoted to each other. Fuck if Louis hadn’t ever had a moment of jealousy for other gay men, out there getting filthy in every corner of the city, waking up with beautiful men in their beds and laughing it off.
Louis’ face always ended up beet red while he thought about this, angry at Harry and at the strangers touching him.
After he completely zoned out into a deep grimace imagining Harry having a late afternoon broom closet shag with someone from Grindr, only to be called back to the present moment by a teenager who looked amused but a bit concerned, he decided it was only fair he got a taste too. He wasn’t some holy martyr waiting on Harry to come back to him. He was a goddamn 24-year-old man with a libido and an ass that half the city would want if they were familiar with it.
That night he dragged Zayn out to the club, on a Thursday no less. He wore joggers that showed off his bum and the bulge against his legs, and he danced suggestively with his hips. Every time he made eye contact, he let his eyes insinuate the rest.
He couldn’t help himself, though. He scanned the crowds for Harry’s face constantly. No luck, but one man did grind on him and then crowd him against the wall. “Looking so pretty, darlin.”
Louis raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t going for pretty, but he knew his curves sometimes gave that vibe. The man stood a head taller than him, with red hair and beard, perfectly shaped brows, and lovely plush lips. “I could say the same to you,” he replied. “You’re such a pretty boy.”
The other man pulled back. They stared at each other for a moment, and Louis knew he had gone about that wrong. This man didn’t want to be called pretty any more than he did. He placed a hand on the chest of the man and looked up at him. “Kiss me?” He was desperate to be fucking touched.
Their lips felt wrong together—too wet and moving at the wrong pace. It was so unnatural. Louis groaned in a way the man took to be positive, because he ground their hips together. Louis thought about Harry with some other person, thinking it would fuel his desire to keep going, but instead he felt impossibly sad. His boy, his lover, being touched by another. Hands where his should be. Lips where his should be. Waking up next time him, when he should be. This red-haired man wasn’t fixing anything.
He took a sharp breath as the man started kissing his neck and pushed gently at his shoulders. “No. No thanks.” Tears started coming by the time the man pulled away.
“Shit, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Louis lied breathily. “I’m so fine. No worries, dude. I’m just gonna go home.” He was not going to stay in the club crying.
“Do you want me to get you a ride?”
Louis squeezed his eyes shut. This man was so decent, which somehow made it worse. “Nah. I gotta find my friend.” He pushed through the crowd to find Zayn, who was happily making out with some blonde thing. “I’m going home, Z.”
Zayn nodded at him distractedly. “You okay to go home by yourself? Oh damn, are you crying?”
Louis wiped furiously at his face. “Not crying. I’m fine. See you later.”
By the time he was back on his blow-up mattress, he was sure that Harry had won this round. Louis couldn’t even enjoy being single like Harry no doubt was. He fell asleep scrolling through Harry’ Instagram photos.
~~~~~
The part of this that Louis didn’t really think through was how he now had to plan a proposal where he might get dumped instead of engaged. He had to plan a grand declaration of love, something that felt real and special, while at the same time grappling with the idea that he might never wake up next to Harry again—ever.
In a sadistic way, he was happy about it. He wanted to suffer, to feel the seismic catastrophic impact of this on his life. It made what Harry and him had feel more real.
He’d always wanted to do something intimate for the proposal, but he wasn’t going to propose in their flat now, was he? Not when he hadn’t been back since he dumped all his things into suitcases and bags. So instead he started thinking about something pretty and unpopulated, someplace they could go. It would serve the dual purpose of being intimate and ensuring no one saw him have a crisis if Harry walked away from him forever.
When they were young, Harry used to daydream about his future engagement. He wanted something beautiful but comfortable. Louis figured he could do that. He made a few calls and soon things were coming together. He sent Harry a text with the basics—when, where, what to wear. Harry responded with a thumbs up emoji that Louis stared at for entirely too long before returning to planning.
He looked through old photos, intent on creating a board to put up for the proposal. It would be like a funeral and a wedding because it could be either. It could be the end or the new beginning of their relationship, but at least he could honor what was. There were so many wonderful photos of them as teenagers, goofy and totally besotted. He looked into their eyes and wondered where it went wrong.
When did Harry stop trusting and loving him? Where did the future of their relationship become scary to Harry instead of hopeful or exciting?
He felt a moment of pause as he realized that maybe what was scary wasn’t Harry’s future with Louis in particular, but just the future as a whole. Memories came swirling back to him like snow.
They were apartment shopping. Harry whispering, “God it feels like so much pressure, having to decide where to rent an apartment when I don’t even know what’s going to happen next month.”
“Well, next month you’re going to graduate.”
“I know, I know. That’s the plan. But then what? What if I can’t get a job here, but I do get one somewhere else?”
“I’m sure it will all come together, love.”
“What if I hurt my leg and I can’t walk up the stairs to this apartment?”
Louis had laughed and kissed him. “Then I will carry you up the stairs.”
More recently he remembered a night when Harry had been standing in front of the mirror, applying blemish cream, as Louis brushed his teeth.
“Should I change my hair?” Harry’d wondered aloud. “I was trying to grow it out again, but maybe that’s just the old me.”
“Hmm,” Louis had narrowed his eyes in assessment of Harry’s curling hair, before spitting out the toothpaste. “I think you look quite lovely in anything. Hair is low stakes. It grows back. You can always change your mind and go back.”
“Unlike a career.”
Louis had paused, wiping his mouth and looked up at Harry in the mirror. “Definitely different, but people do change their minds with that, too.”
“I don’t see how I could. I don’t know what else I’m any good at.” Harry’s shoulders slumped. “I’m all in now that I’ve got a whole degree in this.”
“You’re plenty good at things, but it’s probably best to have a plan before you go quitting, eh?”
Harry bit his lip. “Well, we have the savings.” He swallowed, before saying, “But you’re right.”
“And you love it, don’t you?”
Harry sighed. “It’s different than I thought it would be. I’m so tired all the time. My fingers ache. And when this show is over, what do I do next?”
Louis massaged his shoulders. “The life of an artist.”
“It’s so… hard.”
“It’ll get easier, Haz. You’ll get the rhythm.”
Harry had tugged on a smile. “Yeah, alright. I’m sure you’re right.”
Louis had coaxed him to bed later, brought him the kind of pleasure he needed to unwind, but… looking back, he hated how he had brushed aside Harry’s worries. It suddenly felt clear how much Harry was struggling, and Louis’ stomach hurt thinking about Harry being scared, unsure, and yet unable to talk about it properly with him. He hadn’t been really listening; he’d been so focused on the future he had planned.
He wanted to text Harry right now. Ask him about the show, whether he was getting enough sleep. Tell him he was doing such a great job, following his dreams with this job, putting in the hours and getting amazing experience in the process. Yet, if he didn’t like it, he could stop any time. They could make it work. And if he couldn’t find another job for a bit, they would figure it out. He wanted to promise him that whatever his future held would be okay because they could figure it out--together. And he was sorry, for not realizing, for not listening.
But he shouldn’t do any of that.
Instead Louis ran over to Zayn’s desk to grab paper and a pen and started scribbling madly. He could write down everything he wanted to say, everything he needed to explain. He could put it all down. He could try to find the words to say that he would always be there with Harry, no matter how they changed or where they went. He would always stay.
~~~
Louis went to the opening night of Harry’s show, in the seat that Harry had left for him at willcall. He was blown away but the ingenious use of costume to tell the story and expand on the characters and bring drama to the dance scenes. It was amazing work, especially knowing that Harry had done it all with no assistant and so little time.
He told one old couple during intermission that his boyfriend had designed and created all the costumes. “What an accomplishment, dear.”
It was hard to know what to do with all his pride when he wasn’t supposed to talk to Harry. So instead he wrote it down in a card and asked the attendant to bring it, along with some flowers, to Harry. He didn’t sign the card, but he knew Harry would know.
It was only two days until the proposal date. Louis checked his notes but felt there was no more he could do. He slept fitfully, knowing that more than ever, he just wanted Harry to be his.
~~~
It was finally the day, and Louis didn’t know why he had created this horrible pressure cooker for himself and Harry. He hated it. He wanted to curl up into a ball, and he did, but Zayn rolled him onto the floor and deflated the bed to leave him nowhere to go. “Get up, you lump. Go make yourself look nice. You need a goddamn shower and shave.”
That had Louis sprinting to the bathroom to try and pull himself together. He didn’t want to look bad. He needed to look put together, for whatever outcome he got. He fussed with his for hair ages before he finally threw his hands up in the air and left it. Zayn made him drink water and eat a protein bar. “You’re gonna faint when you see him if you haven’t eaten enough, Louis.” He was probably right. Louis felt lightheaded even just standing, waiting for Harry outside.
Harry walked came up, hands in his pockets but looking beautiful—god so beautiful. Louis ached to touch his face, his hair, to smell him and hold him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, too, and instead mumbled, “Hey.”
“Hey,” Harry murmured back.
“The show was amazing. Congratulations, H.”
“Thanks,” Harry blushed. “I didn’t know if you would come still.”
“Of course.”
“There was a… costume emergency on opening night, but I don’t think anyone could tell. The lead tripped and ripped her dress open.”
Louis’ jaw dropped in horror. “No! God, you must have pulled off a miracle. I had no idea.”
“It was trial by fire, like usual.”
Louis nodded. “You did great, Haz. I hope you’re proud of yourself.” Harry nodded slightly, eyes on the ground. Louis took that as a sign to change the topic. “Why don’t we talk a walk?”
They strolled and talked about simple things. Harry quietly asked Louis how he had been, eyes searching his face for the honest answer. Louis answered truthfully that he was doing okay, all things considered. Louis asked Harry how his back was, and Harry said it flared up last week, but it was fine now. They walked a foot apart, not touching, but Louis was grateful to feel his presence, radiating like a fire.
As they approached a spot by the river, Louis paused and turned to face Harry. His hands were shaking with nerves, but he had to get this out. “H, I’ve loved you my whole life practically, and I still do. I hope you will hear what I have to say and give me an honest answer. Whatever you choose, I will respect. However this ends, I want to say thank you for everything.” Louis took a deep breath, then reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand. “Come with me.”
He walked them around the bend and into an open area, decorated with fairy lights and candles and a board of photos of their relationship.
“There’s a lot I want to say to you, Harry, but first and foremost, I want to tell you that I’m sorry.” Harry made a confused noise. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a better listener and partner to you. I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel safe to tell me your fears and your worries. I’m sorry I haven’t been the partner you need.”
He pulled out his phone. “ I wrote you a song. Well, Zayn wrote the music, but I wrote the words. I wanted to play the guitar, but you know I’m terrible when I’m nervous, and I’m so nervous right now.”
“Lou, it’s--”
He pressed play on his phone and music started to play. “Just listen,” he whispered, and then he started to sing.
You say there's so much you don't know
You need to go and find yourself
Ooh, who said it's true
That the growing only happens on your own?
They don't know me and you
I don't think you have to leave
If to change is what you need
You can change right next to me
When you're high, I'll take the lows
You can ebb and I can flow
And we'll take it slow
And grow as we go
You won't be the only one
I am unfinished, I've got so much left to learn
I don't know how this river runs
But I'd like the company through every twist and turn
If to change is what you need
You can change right next to me
We’ll grow as we go
Louis finished the song, and then dropped down on one knee. “I’ve never felt happier than when I’m with you. You complete me, and whatever comes, I know I want you there with me. I will go with you wherever you go. I will be honored to see you change over time, to see us grow through the years, and that’s really all I want.
The future is scary. It’s true. All I know is that I want to do it with you.”
Louis pulled out the ring box and opened it. “I have wanted you since I was 18 years old. There’s no-one else who comes even close to you. Please do me the honor of being mine forever. Please be my husband. Harry Edward Styles, will you marry me?”
He’d gotten out the words he had rehearsed because he meant them with his whole heart. He felt like he was just turning off his brain and letting his chest speak. But now the moment hung. He waited, breath caught, for Harry to respond. The moment stretched, and he felt dizzy with it, looking up at Harry’s flushed face, his tear-filled eyes.
Then Harry dropped down to the ground and hugged him. “I love you. Yes, I will marry you.”
Louis gasped in a lungful of air as he started crying properly, holding Harry again for the first time in a month, knowing that Harry wanted him, too. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have talked to you. I shouldn’t have pushed you away or told you I didn’t want you in my life. I want you more than anything. There’s no one—no one else—I would want.”
Louis pulled back and grinned at Harry. “Let me put this ring on you?”
Harry smiled, dimples popping even as tears trailed down his face. He held out a manicured hand and Louis knew then that Harry had known he would say yes, even before he started talking. That made him cry anew as he slid the ring on and then pressed their lips together. When they separated he whispered, “Thank you for being mine. I love you so much.”
Harry kissed him back with a fervor that almost knocked him backward before whispering, “Please come home.”
Louis hugged him close. “Of course, darling. Of course, I’ll come home.”
~~~
In the end, Louis learned that Harry had not been with anyone else in their month apart. In fact, Louis’ night out at the club was more than Harry had gotten up to.
“Who knew you were so wild, Lou,” Harry would tease him. “You wanna go out to the club together? You can push me up against the wall and call me pretty.” Louis laughed and kissed him but then later said that yes, they should definitely do that.
They spent hours talking about Harry’s future career in this town and pouring over financials. Harry was applying for related positions in the area, but they had back up plans, too. Like the Etsy shop Harry opened where he could sell his patterns and costumes when work was slow. It gave him an outlet for his creativity that was purely his own. He already had several 5-star reviews, although one was his mum and one was Louis.
Things fell back into a familiar rhythm, but better. Louis listened more. Harry shared more. They didn’t make assumptions about the future other than that they would have each other. They decided to wait a bit longer to pick a date for their wedding, and Louis didn’t mind that. He felt content and confident in their relationship, sure that it would come.
Harry loved the ring. He carefully set it back in the ring box each night and on a special ring dish when he washed dishes or cooked. It filled Louis was a special kind of joy to watch Harry put it back on. After all those years buried in the underwear drawer, that ring was finally in its rightful place.
One night Zayn came over for dinner and his relief was evident at seeing them smoothly coordinate setting the table and taking things out of the oven. “I was worried you’d never have me over again—when Lou was at my place stinking up my living room and smashing plates.”
Harry raised his brows. Louis quickly corrected, “It was one plate.”
“Okay but you still owe me, man.”
“I probably owe you even more for letting me crash there.”
Harry piped up. “Does dinner start to make up for it?”
Zayn appraised the plates Harry set down on the table and nodded. “You’ll have to have me over many more times though. Just warning you.”
Harry grinned, and Louis raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that!”