Work Text:
Honey, come over, the party’s gone slower…
No one will tempt you, we know you got sober
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His therapist is gonna hear about this.
He could turn around right now. He could, but the concrete is fucking stuck to his feet and his stomach feels like it gonna boil in his body right under his ribs and half-moon shapes of tender skin is starting to form in his palms and this was such a bad bad idea.
Harry looks up at the doors of his old high school adorned with a banner celebrating the class of 2016. Black and red balloons scattered around the opening of the door and Harry just wants to die. It not even his fucking high school. He didn’t even graduate from here. He left after freshman year because it was either start over or… well he just had to start over. They moved all the way to New York. Yes, it was for his stepdads job but they could have stayed if Harry wanted to. But at that point there was no decision, he had to leave. It was either a new life in New York or a psych ward in South Carolina. That’s what his mom told him years later. She didn’t know what to do to help him.
It was a nice gesture; it really was. They didn’t have to invite him, but he did go to this school district from when he was 5 to 14 years old. He had a feeling that Liam might had been behind the graceful invitation. Either way it was a nice gesture, but Harry is really having a hard time seeing why he decided to do this.
The invitation came three months ago. Celebrating 7 years since graduation (what stupid number to celebrate) and Harry promptly threw it in the trash. Then dug it out of the trash less than 5 minutes after, and RSVPed 20 minutes later. Exposure therapy or something like that. His therapist was proud when he told her, but he was so damn scared. Which is so stupid. He has nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to be scared of. He's better now, fuck, he is doing so much better. And Harry knows he’s not even going to be here, he heard his mom on the phone with Liam’s mom years ago telling Anne that he got moved to the district office after everything. No, not fired but what were they expecting. He has no control over him like he did all those years ago, but he just can’t move his feet. He just can’t move his feet.
Niall’s touch to his shoulder shakes him out of his turmoil. God Bless Niall Horan. The best thing to happen to him when he moved to New York. He had just moved from Ireland, and they bonded over being the new kids with the weird accents and honestly Niall just adopted Harry as his new best friend and Harry will forever be grateful for that blond haired kid. But now a brunet Niall is looking at him with concern and it probably ready to tear Harry away from this godforsaken building that he knows really fucked Harry up.
Niall was pissed when Harry told him he was going to the reunion. He promptly told Harry it was a stupid decision and that Harry had nothing to prove and then stormed off to his room in their apartment. Niall knows what Harry went through. He was there when Harry had his first panic attack at their new school. He was there when Harry had to move out of their dorm three days after moving in because Harry just never feels safe in anything associated with a school. He wasn’t there the first time Harry threw up in the bathroom during one of his Ethic classes. But he was there that night when he told Niall how much he hated himself. So, no Niall wasn’t excited about Harry going back to the place that made him distrust anything and anyone associated with a school or university. But after he calmed down, he found Harry out in their kitchen cooking for them, eyes red rimmed and asked if he would like Niall to come with him and really God bless Niall Horan.
“You don’t have to go in ya know? you got here right. Like- I mean that pretty huge in itself right?”.
Harry turned to look Niall in the eyes and over his shoulder he saw some of his old classmates walking towards him and no he was not going to reconnect with them here. He was going in, he was going to be fine.
“Niall, Its ok alright I’m in control yea? And I can leave whenever I need to, ok?” Harry assured the brunet but mostly was trying to assure himself. He was safe. He had Niall. Niall could drive if he needed him to. Liam was going to be here, and Zayn. They were going to be open about dating for the first time since they started dating in junior year. Zayn was going to shove that beautiful vintage engagement ring in all of those homophobic bullies’ faces and Harry wanted to see that. God, he wanted to see that so bad.
He shook out his hands clicked his tongue a few times (a nervous tick he developed right here in this building) and walked into the school.
And low and behold the world didn’t end. Harry walked with Niall in tow to the gym he tore his meniscusin and was welcomed in with open arms. Liam almost took him down with the force of his hug and Zayn kissed his cheek and whispered to him that they could leave whenever he wanted to. They would head back to Liam’s parents’ house together where they were all going to stay that night, an ode to a simpler time when convincing their parent to let them have a sleep over on a week night was the worst of their problems.
Niall and Liam got on like a house on fire as surprise to no one. After they meet over facetime once when Harry moved in with Niall, they exchanged numbers and have been forming a beautiful friendship. While the two boys gushed over each other, Harry and Zayn made the rounds. And honestly Harry had no clue why he was so nervous. I mean the half a Xanax he took in the car before probably helped but he was here talking to Adam and Rushvi and John and Mrs. O’Donnell (!!) here he was having a good time and fuck it felt good.
Forty-five minutes later he had caught up with almost everyone in his class that he actually wanted to talk to, which to be frank wasn’t a lot of people but when you grow up knowing your bi in a small southern town it’s kind of hard to overlook the homophobic comments just to have more than 10 friends. He dogged the major questions like. “When did you cut your hair?” oh it was during after I had a pretty major break down and “why didn’t you tell any of us you were moving?” because I was embarrassed and hated this place and never wanted to see anyone from it again. But still he was having a good time. He hadn’t even noticed Zayn had left for a smoke until he smelled the faded tobacco smell coming from over his shoulder. He turned to tell Zayn to show Mrs. O’Donnell the engagement ring Liam got him but stopped when he saw Zayn’s face.
He looked like he had seen a ghost and in all honestly, he had. Before Zayn could even get the words out Harry saw him over Zayn’s immaculate quiff. And fuck if he looked good at 17 he looked like a fucking movie star at 27. There were tattoos poking out of the rolled up sleeves of his shirt and his perpetually tan skin was littered with stubble and Harry knew it would feel so good to lick that skin, it would probably feel like sand paper on his tongue and taste of aftershave (ok stopping that train of thought there) Of all the people he was worried about seeing tonight Louis wasn’t even on the list. He wasn’t even on the damn roster. Last he heard Louis was out west working in some swanky media company in California and he just assumed he wouldn’t come back. Why travel cross country for a high school reunion that wasn’t even his? Why would he come back? Before Harry had time to freak out (ok freak out more) he saw the reason why Louis was here in the form of a 5’4’’ burst of sunshine and love, Lottie.
Before he could look away Lottie made eye contact with him and ran over and thus bringing Louis, the reason Harry knew he was bi and the content of many wet dreams through his adolescence, with her.
“Harry! Oh my- What?! Holy shit, you actually came!” Lottie mumbled into his collar as she embraced him with a hug that Harry just let himself melt into. Her voice sounded choked up and if Harry let himself think too much into it, he would start to get teary too.
Honestly this is one thing Harry feels the worst about leaving FoxForest high was leaving these people. Not all of them were bad, honestly most of them were good, great even. No, it wasn’t an easy place to deal with mental illness and being queer or anything other than a just being a straight white person (Zayn can attest to that) but there really were some great people here. Lottie being on the top of the list. He grew up with her. The had every elementary and middle school class together. She nailed him in the back with a water balloon on field day and caused him to have a welt on his back for days. She was with him on the swings when a bull got lose from the local ranch and had come onto the playground to the knowledge of not one single teacher. They sat together at lunch the day their tree got cut down. He took her chunky chocolate milk back to the lunch lady because she was scared of Mrs. Tressa. She was the first person he had a sleep over with. They grew up together and then he just left, and he felt like a jerk.
“Hi” was all he really could say. What do you say to your best friend who you never kept in touch with because of fear that she would find out that Harry wasn’t normal. 9th grade was the first year they didn’t have a class together, so Lottie didn’t see him leave every Wednesday at the same time for therapy. She didn’t see him have panic attacks in the middle of class. She didn’t see how He talked to him in the office. (fuck, no one did, that’s why he never got fucking fired). She didn’t hear the things he yelled at Harry for. Things Harry had no control over. She didn’t know that the vice fucking principal of their school is the reason he doesn’t remember hardly anything from freshman year. She doesn’t know about the trauma. Because he never wanted her to. One Tomlinson had seen him at his worst, and he didn’t want Lottie to be the second.
Over the next hour Lottie and Harry caught up and damn he really missed her. He missed her long blond hair and massive blue eyes that lit up when she talked about her new boyfriend. (Harry was gonna have to stalk him on Facebook later). He appreciated how she talked to him like Harry didn’t fuck off and never kept in contact all those years ago. He also appreciated that Louis had left to go mingle somewhere. He really wasn’t keen on talking to Louis given the last time he saw him.
Harry really should just bite his tongue and stop thinking because after an hour and ten minutes Lottie was pulled away to go see her old cheer squad with a promise to stay in touch and her number written on Harry’s arm. Harry waved to her with a smile as she left and leaned back in his chair closed his eyes for a second. He wondered where Niall went off to. He feels kind of bad for pretty much ditching him at a reunion for a school Niall has never even been in but Niall is a social butterfly and it probably making friends with like Mrs. Sennate or something. Zayn and Liam are either very sweetly talking to their old art teacher Mrs. Handy or getting each other off in the locker rooms. Lottie is with her friends, and Harry is here. Harry is here and Harry is safe.
“Hey Curly”
Fuck
Harry opened his eyes to see Louis Tomlinson sitting so close to him that he could smell his cologne. (How did Harry not hear him sit down, actually screw that, how did Harry not smell him sit down)
Up close Harry could see the age cemented a little more in his features. His jaw was lost of any baby fat that might of lingered in high school but his eyes were the same piercing shade of blue that haunted Harrys most private dreams. He has lots of little tattoos around a larger one of a bird and he was staring at Harry because Harry wasn’t saying anything.
“He-Hi, Um Hi how are- I mean ah- Hey” Harry cringed mentally cursing his tongue for growing two sizes in his mouth. That’s why he can’t talk ok? No other reason.
“To answer what I think you were gonna say, I’m doing good how are you Haz?”
A cough and couple tongue clicks and then Harry answered.
“Im ok ya know just, like, um chilling?” His therapist is gonna hear about this.
“Chillin? Hmm?” Louis smirked bringing his drink up to his lips. Harry watched Louis’ tongue as it darted out to catch the stray beverage on his pink lips and Harry was going to die in this gym.
“It’s good to see you” Louis said after a couple of seconds.
“I missed you” and if it wasn’t for the Xanax Harry took in the car and the fact that he had blocked out the rest of the room, he wouldn’t have even heard it.
“Yea?” Harry questioned. Of course, people told him they missed him but it was always “missed you bro” or “yea we didn’t know where you went, but missed you”. It was never as soft as Louis had whispered it. And never that honest.
“Of course Harry, I mean I know we weren’t like as close as you and Lottie are but I really really liked you, probably more than you know, but like- I mean you were always great to Lottie and she was heartbroken when you moved, I mean we all were, and no one knew anything and Ryan, fuck you remember Ryan right?, well he spread a rumor that you offed yourself, that fucking shit, my mom really layed into me after I punched him in the commons on the last day of school, and then that whole thing with Mr. Cowell happened after we thought he was gone and I never go to ask if you were ok after that day and-“
What? People knew? Well, they didn’t know, but they thought it was real, they thought Harry killed himself, and Louis defended him? Why and-And what happened with him, with Mr. Cowell. All they heard was he got a slap on the wrist and a different job but-
“What happened with Mr. Cowell?” Harry interrupted Louis ramblings, effectively cutting him off. Louis looked up from his hands that he was wringing together, and they looked all clammy and Harry just wanted to hold his hand. He just wanted to cry and hold Louis’ hand.
“Harry…” he started softly, “Did you not kno-“
“What happened with Mr. Cowell, Louis?” Harry’s voice was strong and brittle. Seconds away from fracturing but filled with need.
And before Louis could answer the tell tale sound of feedback from a microphone came over the gym and there he was talking into the mike, welcoming everyone back with that plastered on smile and gross fucking shoes, the man that caused Harry to have to be fucking different.
He was gonna throw up. His worst nightmare was gonna happen and he was gonna throw up.
Harry immediately got up and started walking towards the exist. He needed to get the fuck away from here. Away from him. Away from Louis. Fuck, Louis already saw him break down at 15, and he wasn’t gonna let him see it at 25 either. Fuck this was a stupid idea. How in the hell would they let him back? Why? What did he fucking have to offer to the school to the kids that are students now, to the students that use to go there?
Harry didn’t realize he was outside until the hot humid air hit him and he just ran.
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He didn’t make it far. The elementary school was just across the road and the roads in FoxForest were pretty quiet at 8:30 on a Sunday night. Harry was numb. He wasn’t even panicking anymore he was just fucking numb. He threw up the second he got out of the school, and it burned and blistered his throat but he just needed, honestly he doesn’t know what he needs but he needs it.
He sat on the swing set just staring down at the mulch, and it wasn't even mulch you could even call that, it was like wood shavings, and it would hurt like a bitch when you would fall and you get one stuck in your hand and he heard someone calling his name. He looked up to see Louis running through the playground to get to him. In any other circumstance Harry would be embarrassed to have Louis see him like this. Face tear stained, breath shallow and there is probable some bile in his hair, but he only feels nothing.
Louis collapsed to his knees in front of Harry. He bet the wood shaving hurt him, but Louis didn’t even flinch. He just grabbed Harrys’ hand and pulled it away from picking at his skin.
“Hey- hey, Harry Hey look at me ok- I need you to breath yea? Breath for me baby, please ok? in for 4 ok come on Harry- please”
Harry hadn’t even realized how much his lungs were screaming of air until he followed Louis advice. In for four, hold for four and out for five, rinse, repeat. That was Louis talking. He was telling Harry how to breath. How did Louis know that?
“How do you know that?”
Louis looked shocked to hear Harrys’ voice. A little rough from the acid and panic but still there.
“Um after I saw you that day in the nurse- I um- I asked my mom about it and she said it was a panic attack, that your mom said you were struggling and I wanted to know how to help cause, fuck Harry it hurt to see you like that, so I looked it up how to stop them and I don’t know I just thought I could help next time, cause seeing you there, God Harry I had never felt so useless but then you were gone and i-”
That day in the nurse. That stupid day.
Harry had had an awful panic attack and went to the nurses to go home. They didn’t call his parent though. They just stuck him in a chair outside of the nurses office and just let him cry. He had his knees pulled up to his chest gasping for air when he heard the low rumble of Louis voice. He looked up to see Louis stunned, staring at Harry like he was some sort of circus animal. He had papers in his hands meant for the nurse, his fingers crumpled the edges where he was holding them. The nurse (Harry doesn’t remember her name, He doesn’t remember a lot form then) took the papers from Louis and ushered him away. Harry didn’t even see him go. He just ducked his head in-between his knees and cried harder.
He was so embarrassed. His first and really only crush had seen him at his lowest and Harry didn’t think it could get much worse than that.
Harry avoided Louis every time he went to visit Lottie after that. And a few months later Harry was moved into his house in New York, with a promise from his mom to never tell Mrs. Tomlinson why they moved.
“I hated that you saw me like that” Harry whispered. “after that, they… they moved me in to his office when I had them so people wouldn’t see” Harry paused and sucked in another breath” but he would get mad and yell and… yea”
“Harry… are-are you talking about Mr. Cowell?”
Harry only nodded. He never really told anyone what happened in there. But all of the sudden here he was sitting on his elementary school swing set with his crushes hands in his and saying everything he never wanted Louis to know. He had a crush on this boy since first grade and damn it he never wanted Louis to know how fucking messed up he is.
He told Louis told how he would cry and cry and he would just sit there at his desk. He told him how Harry would punch is own leg to feel something because he was numb and how Mr. Cowell would scream at him to stop it. He told him that Mr. Cowell followed him to the bathroom because he thought Harry was gonna run out of the school. He told him that Mr. Cowell would leave him in a room alone for hours. How he would lie to Harrys’ parents about how long Harry was in the office for. How Harry was scared of him. He told Louis about the times Mr. Cowell would have people come into his office and talk about anything and everything while Harry was there in the midst of a panic attack. He whispered about how the other people would ignore him, how Mr. Cowell would tell them to ignore him. How he screamed at him to just call his parents and he refused until Harry got too loud. How he just doesn’t fucking remember things because his brain blocked it out, and how something might trigger a memory and fuck his whole day up.
He told Louis how he had to leave. How his parents didn’t know how to help him and what to do because the school didn’t know how to ‘handle’ Harry. He told him how if his stepdad didn’t get that job offer, he probably would have ended up in an inpatient hospital, or maybe worse. He told him about his diagnoses. The anxiety, the depression, OCD, OCPD, the dissociation, the emetophobia. How he started over. How he made friends, how he met Niall. How it still would go to shit though, but how his new school helped him. How the nurses would let him stay as long as he needed to calm down. How his professors at college would walk him around the halls until he calmed down before a final. How he has all of their numbers so they could check in if he wasn’t in class, because onetime he threw up and passed out in the bathroom and no one knew.
He even told him how it wasn’t just Mr. Cowells fault. He told him how he figured out he was queer, bisexual to be exact. How he figured it out, but he was so scared someone would find out. How he felt that people could read his mind and about the day he heard one student call another student a ‘faggot’ he knew he could never come out in FoxForest. He told Louis how Niall helped him come out. How Niall was the first person to make him feel ok about being queer. How he took Harry to pride. He told him about how his high school, his real high school, the one that accepted him and helped him had pride flags hanging in the hall. Had open couples and a couple of trans kids. Had teachers with ally stickers on their doors and how two boys won homecoming King and King. About his first girlfriend who only lasted two months, how his first boyfriend left after Harry refused to have sex with him.
He told Louis everything he though would make him seem like a freak, everything that he thinks won’t ever let him be happy, never let him be independent. Things that won’t ever allow him to find love. The things that changed him. Made him who he was. Formed him under pressure but damnit if Harry didn’t come out better at the end. Not without a couple more scars, mental and physical, but he made it. He made it out.
And Louis just sat there and listened. Only interrupting to clarify what Harry was saying or remind him to breath when his breath got a little too shallow. Knees on the painful wood chipped playground floor and listened to everything Harry never wanted him to know.
When Harry finally was finished, he was still holding Louis hands, but they had gone still. He looked up to see a face he never wished to see on Louis ever again.
His eyes were red, and tears traced his cheeks but were interrupted by the stubble in Louis chin. His mouth slightly parted and deep red with bite marks from his own teeth embedded in the cracked vermillion. His eyes held not pity but something else that Harry couldn’t quite make out. He was going to ask Louis why he was crying but his voice was still raw from spilling his guts and secrets.
Finally, after a few long seconds Louis spoke.
“Harry, It’s not your fault… ok? You were-I mean- fuck Harry, you’re not fucked up, he’s that fuckin- he’s fucked up, ok? You? You Harry? You’re not the problem, ok? It’s not your fault.”
Harry just stared at him. He feels… well he feels lighter. Like after finally getting all the trauma and turmoil caused by this town, this school, was finally out into the sticky southern air made it better. And he could breathe.
“And… and th-the gay thing?” Harry asks. It’s kind of stupid to be so worried about that when he literally just poured out his heart and trauma on his unrequited crush. I mean Louis literally just told Harry that none of what happened in that building all those years ago was his fault and Louis didn’t run away after hearing it all. But still, he is worried that Louis won’t accept him cause he likes dick.
Harry’s question startles a full body shake out of Louis. Last time either of them heard the word ‘gay’ on this playground it was being thrown around as an insult. Louis lets go of Harry’s hands and for a moment Harry is worried he’s going to let a whimper pass his lips at the loss of touch, but then Louis cups Harry’s face in his hands forcing Harry to stare directly into Louis’ eyes and Harry is dead. Like this isn’t happening, he’s died, and God is playing tricks on him.
“Harry… I am so proud of you. What you- you went through so much and fuck- you should be so proud that you’re like, shit- I don’t know- like still functioning and…” a laugh forces its way out of him, but it’s too dry and not full of life the way Louis’ laugh is supposed to sound. He really really missed Louis laugh.
“The gay thing? I mean- you don’t even know like- fuck, I’m so proud of you for coming out, especially growing up in this town, like I know how it feels? I guess- I don’t know how to say this, I just- fuck, I just wish I knew in high school, then maybe I wouldn’t have felt so alone”
And what?
Did Louis literally just come out to Harry? Now? After his full breakdown, confession and… what?
“you’re gay?” Harry asks, it’s so quite though. As if they aren’t the only ones within 100 feet of this swing set.
Louis’ hands are still anchors on Harry’s feverish skin of his cheeks, and he looks at Harry with a look (Harry can’t figure out what this fucking look is) and smiles and a watery chuckle comes out of his mouth. He nods and his mouth parts, his breath ghosting over Harry’s lips.
Harry then realizes at some point that he had moved off the swing and is sitting on the wood chip ground so close to Louis that he can see where the stubble fades into the red of his cheeks. He can smell his aftershave and it smells like vanilla and sandalwood and something distinctly Louis.
It smells like the Tomlinson’s house when he would come over to play with Lottie and Louis would through pieces of bread at them across the table at dinner. It reminded him of the night he slept over at their house for the first time when he was 13 and had to wear one of Louis night shirts after he spilled orange juice over his. He couldn’t sleep at all that night. He was trapped in a prison of the smell of Louis in a sleeping bag on the floor of Lottie’s room. And now twelve years later here he is stuck in time by the aura of the oldest Tomlinson and Harry just wants to kiss him.
“Who knows?” Harry whispers, worried to break this little bubble of peace they have created in the shit storm of this reunion.
The blank stare Harry receives is one of familiarity and sadness. He has seen that blank stare look back at him in the mirror so many times.
No one knows. No one knows Louis is gay and he is telling Harry and fuck that’s supposed to mean something right?
Right?
“that’s ok” Harry breaths, and fuck it he has already embarrassed himself enough tonight, what a little more?
The first touch of their lips is nothing but a brush of Harrys’ tear-stained skin across Louis’. Its hesitant and quiet and everything Harry every wanted. Louis doesn’t pull back, He doesn’t move for a while, but when he does, God it’s so good.
Louis grips the back of Harrys neck and twines his fingers through the hair there and Harrys hands fall to Louis shoulders trying to hold on for dear life.
Louis kisses like a starved man. He kisses like he wanted for murder, and this is his last time he will ever see Harry. Harry has to make sure Louis knows that now, after this? Louis is never going to be far from him.
Its wet and desperate and tastes of salt. They cling to each other and Harry wounders what would have happened if they were at his school in New York instead of FoxForest?
What if Louis was there when Harry came out? Would he have too? Or would he have told Harry like this, quiet and desperate. Would he have even told Harry at all? Maybe Harry would have never gone through all that trauma. Maybe he would have never had to take medications or go to therapy? Maybe he could have been normal? But he is normal, Louis told him, it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault.
He wonders what would have happened if he stayed at FoxForest? Would things have gotten better. Or would it have just gotten worse and worse? Would Harry still be here, or would he be 6 feet under with a sad shame attached to his name whenever it was uttered. Maybe Louis would have visited his grave. Maybe there wouldn’t be a grave, Just the threat of one.
Would Lottie have visited him in the hospital? Would she have brought Louis? Would he have come all on his own? Maybe they would have confessed what they did tonight on top of the soft suffocate free bed sheets instead of the splinters they are sitting on right now. Maybe Louis would bring Harry flowers on the day he gets discharged. Maybe they would have never found each other at all. No, that’s not right. Harry and Louis would find each other in every world, in every creation of their souls.
But it doesn’t matter, because here, right now, this is all he could ask for. Louis holding on to him and them giggling through stolen kisses like nothing else matters.
Its doesn’t matter that Harry still has anxiety so bad it leaves him lost and lonely. It doesn’t matter that Louis isn’t out, and that he lives across the country. It doesn’t matter that the next couple years are going to be hard. It doesn’t matter that Harry will never get the justice he deserves from all that happened to him here. It doesn’t matter that they will fight and love and tear each other apart and sew themselves together as one.
All that matters is that Harry is here. Kissing his first crush, and soon to be first love. They are invisible and invincible to the world and Louis is holding like Harry like he never wants to let go. They are laughing and kissing and blushing like roses. Harry kisses up Louis neck and mumbles into the skin his thoughts about the stubble. (and yes it does feel like delicious sandpaper) Louis throws his head back and laughs into the trees covering them from the setting sun and its perfect.
And as they hear the calling of Niall, Zayn, and Liam, voices frightened and unaware to what has just taken place, Louis doesn’t let Harry go. He lets them find them tangled together, cheeks flushed with spit-soaked lips and wood chips stuck to their jeans, and maybe, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
But still, his therapist is going to hear about this.
There’s orange juice in the kitchen, bought for the children.
It’s yours if you want it, were just glad you could visit.
-Noah Kahan