Chapter Text
that was then,
before
"Listen," Harry says, and everything is soft.
He touches Louis so lightly, pulling the duvet over their heads. It's quiet underneath, morning light offering the faint outline of their brightest feature through the fabric. Harry's eyes are green and vibrant. Louis' are tired.
"Always listening," Louis replies, thumb rolling over the palm of his boyfriend's hand.
"I love you," Harry whispers, like he's trying to keep it secret; nobody else is allowed to know. It doesn't matter if the house is silent and nobody else is home. Harry's love is just for him.
They are young. They are young and in love. It doesn't matter if today HarryandLouis are going to break up and become Harry and Louis, or that Louis is leaving for college in six hours and they are not going to speak again, leaving Harry dazed with two years of high school left. For this current moment, Harry is his and Louis is Harry's.
They lay with each other like that, not touching for more than a second each time, but knowing. Harry doesn't know where Louis is going to be spending the next four years, doesn't know that Louis' stuff is all packed up in boxes in his car, ready to go, or that Louis' mum and sisters and step-dad are all already headed over there on the four hour drive, deciding to take the family vacation in the same city so that they could see Louis off at the same time. Harry doesn't know any of this, but he knows that Louis loves him with every fiber of his being, that he loves him with his entire existence, and it's okay.
Louis doesn't crave another moment with Harry. He's spent the last year touching, feeling, knowing the boy beside him. Okay, well. He also doesn't deny that this is going to hurt. He has spent countless nights already sitting on the roof and staring at the moon, he's going to be without Harry, they're going to separate. He hurts, currently, and he has no doubt that Harry feels the same, bitter and afraid of how he's going to spend the next two years rebuilding himself in Louis' absence.
They don't talk about this. They haven't. Louis told him, right before they first kissed. I'm going to leave, he'd said. I'm going to leave and I won't look back. Harry'd given him his famous grin, eyes brimming with utter content. It's okay, he'd replied. I have you right now and that's all I care about.
Louis loves him. Harry is perfect. Everything they have done is perfect. They have set themselves up over the past year in perfection- wild and adventurous in the dead of night smoking with Louis' friends, quiet and whole in Harry's basement. They're going to end perfectly, too. Louis is going to say goodbye to his old life and Harry is going to say hello to a new one. They will burn out, at last, and the scent of their candle will be the only thing lingering.
Louis kisses Harry, softly, on the lips. He feels the brush of his lashes against his cheek, the warmth of their breaths getting tangled within each other.
"I love you," Louis whispers, and Harry closes his eyes.
They lay like that for a while, young and in love, living the moment.
and then
The first person Louis meets kisses him.
It's sudden, and he hasn't even had the chance to drop his stuff onto his bed. His family, save Lottie, doesn't see, bless, but it's still just as embarrassing and startling. The hands previously touching his jaw drop, backing away.
"What the fuck?" comes out of his mouth before he can think of anything else, brows furrowed. His lips burn, and he's not sure if it's from making out with- if it's from earlier or because he hasn't been kissed by anyone different in nearly a year and a half.
"Sorry," someone apologizes, mass of curly hair-though not the type he's used to- distracting Louis from actually, y'know, looking at his face. "I told him he had to stop doing that I'm so sorry-"
"Not sorry," another finishes, dark eyes sparkling. "It's college. Let me live."
"Listen," the first tells him, and the word slaps Louis in the face. His ears sting. "We're in here on strict premises. Don't fuck around until they've taken their eyes off of us."
The other opens himself to speak, but Louis interrupts them, wiping his mouth. "So which one of you is my roommate, then?"
"Me," the one who kissed him replied. "Was just checking we wouldn't have any sexual tension and you weren't like, my soulmate or something. That would prove quite difficult to room with. M'name's Zayn."
Louis looks him over. "You're young," he comments, pointedly trying to ignore Lottie's staring from the spot she'd taken on his bed.
Zayn shrugs. "Junior year early admission."
"I take it you're one of those geniuses, then?"
Zayn laughs at this. "No," he shakes his head, jerking a thumb over to his friend, the one who'd apologized. "Liam here is, though. Top of the class. Got early admission to Stanford, too."
Lottie actually puts down her phone for once. "Why isn't he at Stanford, then?"
"Stanford's too quiet," Liam answers for himself. He grins, putting an arm around Zayn. "Plus, I wouldn't leave my best friend for the world. Not even for top university."
Louis feels a pang of regret.
"It's not like he's losing much," Zayn says. "Berkeley's pretty great. Rivals Stanford in some areas."
Their conversation doesn't continue much, because Louis' mother is bursting in.
"Dearest son," she gives him a warm smile. "I think you're going to like it here."
also, later, but not so much later, maybe just a few days,
"You alright, Haz?" a voice rings out through Harry's ears. The school debate team surrounds him.
"Working on some homework," Harry answers, closing his binder. He stuffs it in his backpack, hands shaking. He hopes the blonde speaking to him doesn't notice.
"Christ, Harry," Niall says, staring intently. "It's only the first day."
"I have six AP classes," is his only reply, putting his backpack straps over his shoulders, fingers running through his curly mess of an excuse for hair.
"Me, too," Niall answers, as well as several others on the debate team. God. Harry's surrounded by a bunch of nerds.
"You signing up for mock trial, Styles?" Avery asks, dropping a thick manila folder in front of him.
"What's the case?" He flips through the papers.
"Civil. Plaintiff's side," Niall answers, putting an arm around him.
Harry audibly groans. "I guess so," he says, looking through a packet of faux bills and false inquiries.
"Damn straight," Jackie beams. "Take us to nationals again. Your boy can come watch."
Niall squeeze his shoulder, but Harry only offers his classmates a grin.
this is now
or two years later
Louis is going to get arrested.
It's five thirty AM. He is surprised at how calm he is about this. The thought comes to mind when he's sitting at the local Peet's, breaking up with his current boyfriend. They're marching into Oakland tonight, then Tracy, Manteca, Modesto, right into the Central Valley, where they'll hold a protest in Clovis on the fifth day for the water crisis. He doesn't know what he's going to do, but sometime during this protest, he's going to get arrested.
He tells this to Will, the boyfriend, right after he says "let's break up," interrupting whatever it is Will was saying.
"Sorry?" Will asks, dumbfounded.
"I'm gonna get arrested," he repeats, sipping on his chai tea latte.
"We're breaking up," Will says slowly, "and you're going to get arrested?"
"That's the big idea," Louis says brightly.
Neither of them say anything for a second. Will is quiet, and Louis almost thinks he's going to cry. He really hopes he doesn't, thought, because Louis never knows what to do when they cry.
To his surprise, though, Will only grins. "Alright, cool."
"You're not upset?" Louis asks, leaning forward and making eye contact. He's curious. He liked that about Will, which was the main reason they'd started dating. Will sparked his curiosity and Louis was, well, Louis. One really doesn't need any other reason.
"No," Will replies, "why would I be? I mean, you had fun, right?" He continues at Louis' nod. "Then yeah, I'm not upset. Live in the now. Post-modern ethics and all that."
Louis raises his (biodegradable) plastic cup. "To the moment," he toasts.
Harry takes a swig of Niall's water bottle. It's one of those pretentious glass ones with a company that's for saving the earth and all that. "I cannot believe I let you talk me into a fucking two hundred mile march," he complains, handing the bottle back. He's sweating. He honestly has no idea how long they've been walking. And for what? California's water crisis? They've stopped at every fucking public restroom in view. So much for saving water and such.
"You should have dressed better," Niall tells him. "Berkeley kids don't like preppy boys."
"Hate Berkeley," Harry comments on reflex, slipping his 'FEAR THE TREE' hat over his mess of curls. "Why're we doing this again? Why on earth would you make friends with a bunch of Berkeley-boy activists?"
"Met 'em when you were at that nerd club thing. One of 'em, Liam, totally crushed my argument. Nobody else could. He deserved some respect, bear or not."
Harry scans the crowd. "So where the fuck are they? We're here for them, aren't we?"
Niall looks around with him. "I dunno. Suppose they'll find me eventually."
Harry is honestly just really tired. "Ni, we've been walking for fucking hours and-" He's interrupted by an abrupt clap on his back.
"Niall, my favorite fake blonde!" A voice shouts in their ears. "How's college life, freshy?"
"Fuck off Zayn," Niall groans, but he's grinning. "You're barely older than us."
"What it's like to be young," Zayn says dreamily but mockingly. He looks at Harry. "You must be pretty boy Niall was raving about. Beat a Harvard graduate, did ya, huh?"
Harry blushes. The crowd stops. God. They stopped three hours ago. What the fuck is it, this time?
"Z," Niall whines, "where are the others?"
Zayn shrugs. "Lilo's back there somewhere." He turns his head and searches for a moment, before pointing. "There! They're coming."
Niall and Harry both turn around to look. Harry's breath catches in his throat.
"Haz-" Niall starts, blatantly surprised, but Harry only shushes him, suddenly gripping his arm tightly.
"Oh," is all Harry can say when bright blue eyes meet his.
Louis doesn't know how he's supposed to play this.
Harry is gorgeous. He'd always been pretty, but he looks far more grown up than the sixteen year old boy Louis saw last. His jaw is far more prominent, and his mass of curls is still there, thank the heavens, but trimmed down. Cleaner. Neater. They are otherwise hidden under the red of his hat.
His eyes are still green and bright. Louis' favorite color.
"Louis," Zayn says, nodding towards the boys in front of them. "This is Niall and Harry. From Liam's debate club."
And, well, Louis knows. Niall is eyeing him carefully, while Harry is looking everywhere but him.
"Nice meeting you, lads," Louis says cheerfully, trying to lock in any and all emotion. "S'always nice seeing some Stanford boys realize they're in the wrong place."
And shit, Stanford? Louis thinks back to his junior year. Before the HarryandLouis, but not before Harry. Harry, a fourteen year old freshman who stumbled up the steps. Harry, who tried out for baseball but didn't make the cut. And then Harry during HarryandLouis. Was he a genius then? Sure, he was always rattling off useless information and knew how to pay the bills, but Stanford? He vaguely remembers Harry trying to invite Louis to Washington, to some debate thing, but Louis hadn't been able to- he'd been busy with SAT prep.
"Freshies, then, are ya?" Louis asks, trying to fill the silence. "Realizing your choice of school was a mistake?"
"Not a mistake," Niall smiles at Louis, but his eyes are unreadable. "Maybe you made one."
Louis throws back his head and laughs, arm around Zayn. "Tree boys," he says into his ear.
The march is moving again. Louis wanders off to talk to Will and Stan while they walk.
"Where's Lou gone?" Zayn asks to Liam.
Liam jerks his chin forward. "With the hot boys," he answers, gesturing to where Louis is walking with two boys, grinning wide, touching skin, sharing water.
"Didn't he just break up with Will this morning?" Zayn wonders, incredulous.
"He's clean at break ups, you know this. Always friends with them afterwards." Liam frowns. "Although I kind of thought Will was the one."
Zayn looks astonished. "Really? Did it seem like it to you?"
Liam shrugs, staring off at Louis, who's licking one of the boys on the cheek. "I can never tell. Louis, y'know, acts like he's in love with the whole world, and the whole world just falls in love right back. Him and Will did have a good run though. Three weeks."
Niall audibly snorts, bringing the attention back to him. "You think someone's the one because of three weeks?"
"You don't know Louis," Liam says, and Harry feels Niall squeeze his arm, hold down a protest. "He's fleeting," Liam continues. "Things are gone within minutes. Three weeks is a damn miracle."
Harry burns holes into the back of his head. Look at me. Look at me. Look at what you left behind.
"Takes 'em and leaves 'em, doesn't he," Niall comments, hand still clasped around Harry's bicep.
Zayn is looking fondly at Louis. "He doesn't," Zayn corrects, and then smiles. "Louis doesn't leave, I don't think. Always looking back, to see if you're following. None of his exes are ever upset. He's the king of breakups."
And, well. They're talking too much about Louis, Harry decides, letting out a loud and abrupt bark of hysterical laughter. It's sudden, and all heads turn to him. It seems to be loud enough, throwing a blanket over all conversations, Louis and his entourage turning around to look.
Harry misses his eye, doesn't want to see the shine of the blue, or think about how he's somehow gotten brighter in the past two years. Doesn't want to be reminded of the nights he spent, cold and pressed up against the wall in Gemma's bed, alone, with nobody else to actually push him there. Every college trip, looking, hoping, waiting, maybe he could catch a glimpse, just a peak.
Niall is gripping him tighter, and it almost hurts, Harry whipping his head to scold his best friend but finding his gaze snapped up. He follows it, and well. They're coming. Louis and his side boys.
Zayn and Liam perk up at this, as if they hadn't just been around him ten minutes ago.
Harry's feet hurt. His legs are sore. He wants to go to bed.
He doesn't see why he cares, it's been two year's for fuck's sake. He's grown so much. Acceptance into Harvard, Brown, Stanford. Went to Nationals on eight different types of teams. Rescued four pit bulls from euthanasia. Class president. He didn't have time for any of this, and he certainly doesn't now. He's trekking nearly two hundred miles on some ulterior motive for Niall, who brought him a new box pizza on his birthday every period, who was a Big Brother to two boys and one girl, who raised enough money to build a homeless centre of education for mothers and their children, who left in the middle of the SATs to pick up Harry's mum from downtown, who interrupted Tulare's hearing on a boy accused of murder to argue racism using the actual law (Jason Gannes was not convicted) who denied Berkeley and Davis and Columbia and who knows what else to throw his name in a lottery chance at going to Stanford, Harry's dream school, with him. Niall Iis his saving grace. If Niall asks for two hundred miles with Harry's ex boyfriend then Harry will give him two hundred miles with his ex boyfriend. It's fine.
Except, when Louis ambles over, eyelashes fluttering, it's really hard for everything to be fine.
"Convinced these tree boys to transfer yet?" He asks Liam and Zayn, who bite on their smiles.
The taller boy next to Louis raises an eyebrow directed at Harry and Niall. "Tree boys, are we? Nearly one of those myself."
"Will," Louis tuts, hands brushing his neck. "Nobody wants to know how outrageously smart you used to be."
Will. Harry stares. Here's one of them. How many? How many in the past month? How many in two years? Harry wants to see them all. Two weeks? Three weeks? Four hours? Did you feel it? Has anything ever been as strong?
"Stanford's known for a lot more than ingenuity," Harry remarks, leaning smug against Niall, who looks almost surprised.
Louis gives him a once over, lips curving upwards. "Of course," he replies, eyes burning into Harry. "I'm sure you got in on your ability to carry your books, not read them."
It's not good. It's nearly one of the worst comebacks Harry has heard come out of his mouth.
Still, he lets him have it. He's about to say something else when Niall's hand moves from his arm to a slap on his shoulder.
"Harry can fight," the blonde nearly spits, eyes dark and narrow and bitter. Harry sees it, sees junior year crying under the shower, lying in running trucks headed towards cliff, sitting outside the courthouse looking for purpose.
Niall knows him, knows Harry and knows Louis, knows them together and how when together broke, his best friend kind of did too. He's talking again before Louis can respond. "Don't say using his words or in an argument, or something childish and derogatory regarding his intelligence, despite your fucking jealousy, do not degrade his ability to think and survive on his own, or whatever the fuck you're trying to do." He's nearly in his face now, and Harry is still, mortified. They all are, the crowd parting, confused, around them. "Harry can kick your fucking ass with his bare fists, as contradicting as that sounds, literally and exponentially, he's won in multiple boxing competitions, for your information, and-"
He's cut off, thankfully so, because he'd stopped making sense.
"You cannot come out here and attack someone on a peaceful march," the boy opposite to Will mentions. Niall straightens up, easy, lazy grin sliding across his face, giving Harry a side glance. Louis is taken aback. Harry can't look.
"Apologies," Niall says smoothly, eyes bright and cheerful and innocent, and it's quiet.
It is quiet for a while after that.