Work Text:
Listen, Harry is incredibly happy that Louis has what he does. It's not like he hates him for it, but it does manage to get under his skin sometimes.
Harry and Louis fell in love in 2012, when they ran into each other at a bar. Harry was a little drunk, sipping on his fourth daiquiri of the night, and Louis was just coming in with his band mates, sweaty with his hair slicked back.
Harry doesn't believe in love at first sight, but his eyes immediately fell on Louis when he walked in, made his chest feel all funny.
Louis sat down next to him, ordered a strong drink, and then turned to look at him, grinning at how Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. "Hi."
"Hi," was Harry's squeak back before ducking his head, cheeks flushing even further. He's never had a good poker face when drunk.
"What'ya drinking?"
He glanced over at the stranger before going back to his drink, sipping from the red-striped straw. "Piña colada."
Louis watched him drink, ignoring his friends' banter in the seats next to him. "'S it good?" he asked, that handsome grin still on his face.
Harry, more than tipsy, lifted his glass up in front of Louis' face, angling it so it nearly sloshed right out.
The man leaned forward to take a sip from the side of Harry's glass, staying away from his straw. He let it sit for a second before nodding shortly. "Mm. Thank you, Love. Can I get you another?"
Love. Harry's cheeks were so unbelievably red it was hard for Louis not to chuckle, leaning against the bar. "Mkay."
"I'm Louis."
"Harry," he didn't even realize Louis was reaching his hand out to shake, his grip firm. "You're sweaty, Louis."
"Thank you, Harry," the man chuckled, wiping his hands on his jeans. "'S not all sweat. I got caught in the rain on my way here."
Harry swiveled in his seat nervously, bottom lip between his teeth. "Thank you," he said when the bartender slid his next Piña colada over, then turned to see Louis. "Where'd you come from?"
Louis sipped his own drink with a swallow, setting it back down on the bar's wooden surface and jutting his thumb behind him. "These are my band mates. They dragged me here."
"So you're in a band?"
It only made Louis hotter. He should've figured he was some type of musician, seeing his confidence. "Mhm. I mean, we're not that big. We usually just play bars 'n stuff."
Harry smiled softly behind his drink, now also leaning against the bar with his elbow. "You should let me hear sometime."
Meeting two minutes ago and already bringing up the idea that they would see each other again. "Sure," Louis replied. "Got a studio at home."
"You from around here, then?"
Louis nodded. "Yeah, I grew up here. Actually, we're playing at a festival this upcoming weekend, out of town. 'S the farthest I've ever gone."
"That sounds fun," Harry grinned.
The man next to him nudged his shoulder playfully. "Maybe you can be my groupie someday."
They sat in silence for a minute, Louis turning to speak to his friends while Harry just sat there, staring at the back of his head.
"You're very handsome," the curly-haired boy murmured as soon as Louis turned his attention back to him.
Louis seemed caught off guard, but his lips curled up, now being the one to duck his head self-consciously. How could someone so beautiful be so bashful? "You're very drunk," he chuckled, pointed at his half-empty glass with an eyebrow raised. "How many of those have you had?"
Harry shrugged. "Five, now that you bought me one. Can I try yours?"
Without hesitation, Louis held his own drink up and practically fed it to Harry, giving him more than just a sip. "Careful, it's strong."
"I can handle my liquor just fine," Harry rushed to defend himself, though his face twisted up like he tasted something sour.
"Right," his new friend teased, making fun of his drunkenness.
Suddenly, a blond boy appeared behind Louis' shoulder, cupping his hand over Louis' ear and whispering something. Louis broke into a laugh that made him tilt his head back, elbowing his band mate in the ribs on accident. Harry's been in love with his laugh ever since.
"Lou, who's your friend?" his friend asked after groaning in pain.
He looked between the blond and Harry, smiling sheepishly like he was talking about a crush. "Niall, this is Harry. Harry, Niall."
Harry smiled, too, waving at Niall before settling his hand back on top of his glass.
"Good to meet you, Harry. Anyway, I'll let you two get along," Niall replied with a wink and a shoulder pat toward Louis, then disappeared.
"Forgive him. He's been trying to set me up for months," Louis sighed heavily.
The curly-haired boy raised his eyebrows, leaning even closer to the bar counter. Maybe it was just an excuse to get closer to him, but nobody has to know. "Am I your type?"
Louis rolled his eyes jokingly, looking at Harry under the bad fluorescents of the bar. He spoke with a soft smile, coming a little closer as well. "I don't have a type. I'm very attracted to you, though, yeah."
Harry wasn't sure he even heard him right through the loud music in the building, practically pumping through his veins. "Did you drive here?" he had questioned.
"No. We have a tour bus, kind of. It's not finished yet, but it's cool. I'm saying someone drove us here."
"'N you said you have a... What'd you say?"
"I have a studio in my house," Louis laughed, half-consciously tangling their feet together under the table.
"What d'you play?"
"Bass, mostly. I can drum a little, too."
Harry was close to drooling over the information, his head now against the side of the bar table. "Mm."
Louis kept on chuckling, still downing his drink but not ordering another one. "You like musicians, huh?"
More specifically bass. Guitar. Whatever. He's fantasized about their quick fingers many times.
His acquaintance set his drink down, not even empty, on the counter, smacking the surface a bit in conclusion. "I can show you the studio, as long as you let your friends know where you're going."
Bass player, hot, cares about safety, talkative, funny. This guy checked off everything on his imaginary list. Harry wiped the back of his mouth with his sleeve, nodding while pulling his phone out of his pocket.
"You come in a car?"
Harry shook his head. "I walked."
As soon as he was done texting his best friend Taylor, telling her where he'd be for maybe the whole night, Louis took his hands and helped him out of his seat. "Got everything?"
"Mhm," the boy confirmed, though he never even checked. Louis looked the space over, anyway, bending over to grab a twenty dollar bill Harry'd dropped.
Louis wrapped his arms around all three of his band mates, announcing, "Boys, we're taking the bus and leaving without you," before they walked outside, and Harry was already giggling.
The two of them got into Louis' tour bus, not too shabby, and Harry barely let Louis sit down before he was leaning over to kiss him.
The other boy laughed breathily through their kiss, letting Harry caress his stubble-grazed cheeks. When he pulled away, he looked into his eyes and grinned. "Easy, Cowboy."
"'M sorry," Harry sighed, leaning back against the long seats on the side of the bus. "Sorry. Won't happen again."
"Who says I don't want it to happen again?"
That was Harry's invitation to kiss him more, nudging Louis onto his back and spreading them across the seats.
Harry liked that he got to be on top, only because he felt safer that way. If Louis were to take advantage of him, he would have an easier time if Harry was underneath. That alone made Harry's adoration for him grow.
Definitely an unsafe way to ride in a bus, but neither of them were complaining then. Louis tasted like Harry's Piña colada and his own drink mixed together, intoxicating.
They giggled and made out until the driver arrived at Louis' place, and even then it took a minute for either of them to realize the bus was stopped.
Louis did show him the studio, let Harry play around on his bass for a while and watched from the doorway. Then he murmured, "I understand the turn-on for bass players," and Harry set it down to kiss him instead.
Harry and Louis spent the night together and had a one-night-stand that ended up lasting an eternity. The curly-haired boy woke up with a hangover to see a cap full of ibuprofen and anti-nausea pills on the nightstand, next to a cold bottle of water and his plugged-in phone.
Louis was in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone. Niall from last night, Harry came to find out when he walked in and heard the man's name. Louis didn't see him until he wrapped his arms around him from behind, half-asleep in boxers and a t-shirt.
He mouthed a hello to him and ruffled his hair, continuing his conversation like nothing happened. "No. I dunno what you're talking about... There's not a ridiculously cute boy standing right next to me."
Harry heard Niall say, "I can literally hear him breathing, you bloody liar," before the dial tone rang through Louis' phone speaker.
Louis turned to him when he started to giggle, so that Harry's arms were still around his torso but they were facing each other. "Hey, you."
Harry was clearly blushing, he could feel the heat radiating off his face. "Hi."
"Sleep good?"
"Mhm."
"Me too," Louis wiggled his eyebrows, grinning flirtatiously. It made butterflies erupt in the pit of Harry's stomach. "I, um... I have practice in a couple hours, but you're welcome to stay. I'd like to see you again."
"Mkay," Harry nodded, burying his head against Louis' chest with a yawn.
His guitarist fingers brushed through Harry's curls softly, tracing his jaw and cheekbones. "Get you a cuppa? How d'you like your coffee?"
He answered quietly, then released his hold on him and went to sit in the living room, heart already full.
---
Harry very quickly became a groupie for Louis' band. Mostly just Louis, as he fell in love with him. When he left to go to the festival a few days after first meeting, he kissed Harry on the forehead outside the tour bus and promised to call as soon as he got service. Harry'd received video upon video, picture galore, and a plethora of texts and phone calls from the guy while he was out of town. He was incredibly excited for him, knowing he was really happy out there.
So Harry doesn't have a problem with Louis' rise to stardom. Or... He didn't.
It was right after their one year anniversary that Louis and his band, One Direction, got radio play. Harry was there when it happened, hanging out on the tour bus with Louis and Niall. Zayn and Liam were there, too, the other band mates he'd eventually met. Louis was so excited he tackled Harry to the ground, nearly whacking his head on the carpeted floor.
After that, things continued to rise. It got to the point that One Direction went on a small tour around the United States, and Harry came along a for a couple of dates. The nights he was alone at their shared house weren't entirely fun. It's always lonely without Louis there, like it was before they met. He's lucky Louis is a constant caller otherwise he'd probably go insane.
When he got home from tour, gone for five weeks, he didn't leave their bed. He genuinely slept for twelve hours the first night, limbs tangled with Harry's, the sheets haphazardly kicked off the mattress.
Harry's new habit while he's bored without Louis is so check Instagram, looking at Louis' account and the fan pages surrounding it. He usually likes to see the fans comments, mostly positive, until Louis'd posted his own photo of he and Harry, captioned, I just think you're cool :).
He basked in that caption, wanted Louis to write it on a piece of scrap paper so he could take it in and get it tattooed on his body. Louis Tomlinson thinks he's cool.
Louis even got him to dabble in the art of songwriting for a second there, urging him to write something to see if his inspiration would bounce off into Louis' brain. Harry wrote something mediocre and then hid it from him, embarrassed.
Louis read his stuff without him knowing, and Harry still doesn't know about it. He loved it, wanted to take his lyrics and make it into something, but then Harry would know that he took a peek at it, so he decided to adore it in private.
---
Harry's writing something else now, because he feels like shit. About himself, not about Louis. It's not mean. It's supposed to be a compliment to Louis, kind of. But if Louis ever saw it, he wouldn't be happy.
They just got engaged, three days ago, and Harry took it upon himself to look at Louis' most recent post of them, Harry with an engagement ring on the hand shielding his face. He loves that photo, loves every photo Louis posts. It's just... Well, it's the comments.
As if they weren't sort of rude and passive-aggressive before, they surely are now. Louis' comments, as well as his fan pages, are littered with hate for Harry.
Jealousy is not something Harry is accustomed to. He knows Louis loves him with his whole heart, would never leave him, especially now that he has the ring to prove it. He's never been jealous of Louis' fans, even the ones that try to hit on him at concerts or in his comments. Now he's upset that Louis isn't getting the same negative attention he's getting, and he feels horrible for thinking that.
People hate him now, all because Louis proposed to him. They infiltrate his own comments so bad that he has to turn them off, archiving all of his posts as well just to be safe. He stumbles upon one comment on Louis' page, EW louis baby i could treat you so much better, an astounding three hundred likes to go with it.
It's not their mean, you're hideous hate that gets to him, it's the comments like that that ruin his day. He doesn't feel good enough now, like Louis' sticking with him just because. He has everyone after him, trying to slide into his private messages and flirt their way into being his next groupie. Maybe that'll happen if Harry doesn't start doing something to redeem himself.
So he writes that song. That stupid song he hid in their shared desk, under a pile of letters from family. Louis wouldn't think to look under there, right? He shouldn't have written them down on paper.
He also begins to work more around the house. Usually when Louis' in the room, he interrupts him when he tries to clean up, taking the broom or nudging him away from the sink to wash the dishes. "I feel useless," Louis joked once, after they playfully argued over who would be vacuuming the living room that night. If only he knew how worthless Harry felt.
Then he figures it out. Because Harry's scrubbing spilled merlot and pieces of glass off the floor when Louis gets home from band practice, crying in the kitchen.
"Hey," he coos, leaving his shoes on and shutting the door, unbothered to lock it. He comes toward the curly-haired boy and squats down near him, lowering to his level. "Haz. What happened?"
Harry sets the red-stained towel in the bucket of soapy water, reaching up to wipe his tears with the backs of his damp hands. "Nothing. I just spilled," he lies, sniffling heavily.
Louis picks up a large piece of wine glass, inspecting it under the kitchen fluorescents. "Nothing? You could've hurt yourself there, H."
"Sorry," he murmurs, still refusing to get up off the floor. Louis doesn't, either, just kneels and starts gathering the bits of glass into the palm of his hand. "I, um... How was practice?"
"Eh," his fiancé shrugs, trying his hardest to lighten the mood while Harry is busy stifling sobs next to him. "I missed you. Was hoping we'd get done earlier, I wanted to take you out for dinner."
Harry would rather die than go out in public right now. People would see his red-rimmed eyes and wonder if they were having relationship problems or something. Good riddance, Louis' comments would say. Glad you got out of there, Louis, you could do so much better!
Then Louis' snapping his fingers in front of his splotchy face, smiling warily at him. "Earth to Harry? What's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"You don't cry when nothing's wrong," he says gently, setting the glass in the wastebin behind Harry's shoulder. He stands, holding his hands out for Harry to grab onto. "Come. Wanna talk to you anyway."
Oh no. That doesn't sound good. Maybe Louis listened to his comment section and decided he really could do better. Harry's never been as good as Louis, he doesn't know how he didn't see it until now.
He accepts Louis' invitation anyway, being brought to his feet and led to the living room. On the couch, Louis sits and pulls Harry into his lap, his concerned smile still evident on his pink lips. "You know I love you, right?" is how he starts, and Harry immediately bursts into tears.
"I'm sorry I'm not what you want," the boy leans back a little, leaving as much space between Louis as he can while straddling him.
Louis holds him around the waist and tugs him right back, their stomachs together. "What're you talking about?" he questions, staring at him with a confused expression.
Harry whimpers. "You-- You're breaking up with me, aren't you? I was just saying sorry, I-I know I haven't been the best boyfriend recently, and--"
Their lips are touching before Harry can finish his soon-to-be rant about their so-called failing relationship. Louis' kissing him like he normally does, not faltering for a second. He breaks into a chuckle afterward, forehead against Harry's. "Mm-mm. Why would I leave?"
"Don't you look at your comments?" he snivels, confused.
"Fuck no," Louis scoffs. "Why? Do you look at my comments?"
He should lie, but he can't bring himself to. Louis hasn't shown any signs of hating him, though this could all be some prank leading up to the inevitable breakup. "Yeah," he swallows thickly. Glad he got that out of the way.
Louis narrows his eyes at him, frown appearing on his handsome face. "Harry."
"They don't like me," Harry interrupts. Now that he started admitting things, he doesn't think he'll be able to stop. "Your... Your fans. I feel like, like I'm not good enough for you. You could have anyone, Louis, you know? So--"
"So... Clearly I've made my choice," Louis smiles, kissing the very corner of his mouth. "You don't have to be a good boyfriend, 'cause you'll be the greatest husband, 'n that's all that matters to me."
Harry's heart aches in a good way, butterflies in his tummy. He lets Louis slot their lips together one more time, and the man lingers there afterward, his stubble tickling Harry's cheeks.
"You smell nice, 's that a new perfume?"
The boy in his lap quits talking, at a loss for words. Louis' always saying random things when they talk. "It's yours," he pulls away just to get a look at him, seeing his beaming smile. "What?"
Louis lets go of his waist to caress his cheek instead, brushing a stray curl behind his ear. "Nothing. I just love you. 'n I don't want you to look at my comments anymore, okay?"
"Mhm," Harry nods, unable to tear his eyes away from Louis and his stupid, loving look. "I wrote... I wrote you a song."
His smile somehow grows. That should've been a sign that he already snooped through his song months ago, waiting patiently for another one, but Harry was too nervous to realize it. "You did?" he asks. Harry nods once more, and Louis squeezes his waist gently. "You mean you wrote it for me, or about me?"
"Both."
"Can I see it?"
Wordlessly, Harry gets off of his lap and drags himself down the hall, to their room. He remembers when this was just Louis', when the bed was just a measly twin pushed against the wall, and they had to practically suffocate each other whenever they wanted to sleep over.
When he comes back, Louis' on his phone, scrolling through something on Instagram. He doesn't look up as Harry comes in, even when he sits down on the couch next to him, swinging his legs over Louis'.
"What're you doing?" the younger boy asks, pillowing his head against Louis' shoulder.
"Turning my comments off," he answers simply.
Harry can't help but feel like it's his fault. Louis doesn't seem unhappy, but who knows. He would disable his shit if he were that popular, too. "'M sorry," he states anyway, tears drying on his flushed cheeks.
"I don't look at 'em," Louis shakes his head. "I'm doing this for you, so you stop. People are mean, I'm sorry that they got to you," then he sets his phone down and focuses on Harry and that slip of paper in his hands. "That your song?"
He hands it over without answering, curling his knees up to his chest. Louis opens it and continues to smile, even though Harry thought it would make him angry.
I don't like a gold rush, gold rush
I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush
I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch
Everybody wants you
Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you
Walk past, quick brush
I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush
Everybody wants you
But I don't like a gold rush
What must it be like
To grow up that beautiful?
With your hair falling into place like dominos
I see me padding 'cross your wooden floors
With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door
Then Louis sits in silence for a moment, bottom lip between his teeth, and Harry almost believes that he's getting upset until he tackles him, laughing breathily into his ear. "You little shit, I thought you said you didn't know how to write."
"I don't," Harry protests, lying on the couch with Louis on top of him. He smiles sheepishly up at him, brushing his hair off his forehead so they can see each other. "I... I was hoping you wouldn't find it, I thought you'd hate it."
"Are you crazy?" Louis groans, setting the paper down on the coffee table haphazardly. He only did so to have his hands free, which automatically roam to his waist. "I'll fire Niall. You join the band instead."
It makes giggles erupt from his mouth, interrupted by Louis' lips against his. He wraps and arm around the man's neck, allowing Louis to kiss him deeper.
"Easy, Cowboy," the older boy mumbles against him, feeling Harry's slightly trembling hand graze his belt buckle. "Wanna show you how beautiful you are first."
Louis kisses him everywhere. He lets his teeth scuff against Harry's skin at times, nibbling and dragging his tongue all over. Harry ends up nearly nude on the couch, their fireplace warm against his body, and Louis says nice things about every part of him in the quiet drawl that Harry's always been in love with.
So when he wakes up on the floor in the morning and sees Louis' most recent post, a single photo of a half-asleep Harry the first night they spent together, he doesn't feel bad. The comments are off, and Louis' caption seems to bring it up.
Easy Cowboy :) (Turning my comments off because u guys suck. Much love!)