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The first time Harry Styles laid eyes on Louis Tomlinson, he was almost late to their shared art history class.
The lecture hall was nearly full, and the only open seat was in the very front row, next to a boy with a quick smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Harry, flustered and a little breathless, slid into the chair, and as he set down his sketchbook and a stack of pencils, he felt the boy's gaze on him.
The boy, a blur of blue eyes and quiet energy, just nodded, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.
Harry felt his gaze on him for a moment before they both turned to face the professor.
From that day on, a silent ritual began.
They never spoke, but they sat near each other in every class, and Harry would watch Louis from the corner of his eye.
Louis had a wry, witty comment for every Renaissance painting, a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue, and Harry found himself drawn to him in a way that was entirely new.
He loved the way Louis’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at a joke, a sound that Harry desperately wanted to be the cause of.
It was a silent and consuming obsession.
Every movement Louis made, every laugh, every casual comment he made to a classmate, Harry noticed and catalogued.
It was an involuntary, possessive instinct that he didn't even try to fight.
He found himself studying Louis's profile, the way his jaw tensed when he was concentrating, the small, almost imperceptible smile that played on his lips when the professor made a joke.
It was the kind of attention that felt less like a crush and more like a fever, a low, constant burn that he knew would eventually consume him.
He longed to be the reason for Louis's laughter, the cause of that beautiful crinkle in his eyes.
A few weeks after their first encounter in class, Harry saw Louis at a party.
The music was so loud it rattled his bones, but his eyes were fixed on Louis across the room.
Louis was laughing, a bright, beautiful sound that Harry could feel more than hear.
Their eyes met, and the air around them seemed to crackle with an unspoken energy.
Louis's friends were pulling at his arm, but his gaze never left Harry's.
He pushed his way through the crowd, an invisible string pulling him toward Louis.
They found themselves pressed together against a wall in the dimly lit hallway.
Harry's hands found their way to Louis's waist, and Louis's hands found their way to Harry's hair.
Their kisses were hungry, desperate, fumbling, and so impossibly sweet.
It was all a beautiful mess.
When they pulled apart, they were both breathless.
The music and the people around them were a distant blur, all that mattered was the warm, comforting scent of each other.
It became a ritual, a desperate, fumbling release of pent-up desire they both pretended was just a casual thing.
On the weekends, in the loud, sweaty chaos of frat house parties, their silent bond would explode.
They'd both get so impossibly drunk that the world would become a dizzying, beautiful mess, and in that mess, their hands would find each other.
Their conversations would be slurred, their kisses desperate and fumbling. Neither of them would remember the details the next day, but their bodies would feel different—a little more bruised, a little more alive.
The only evidence would be the quiet, knowing glances they'd exchange in class on Monday mornings, a shared secret that neither dared to speak aloud. It was a one-off, they told themselves.
A drunken mistake they would never speak of again.
But Harry couldn’t keep up the charade.
In his mind, Louis was already his omega, and he couldn't stop the quiet, steady acts of courting that came with it.
It started with a simple gesture in class.
One morning, noticing Louis yawning through a lecture, Harry showed up the next day with a small paper cup of hot tea.
He just placed it on the table between them without a word.
Louis's eyes widened in surprise, but he simply took the cup and gave Harry a soft, grateful smile.
He never said thank you, and he never refused the offering.
It became another silent morning ritual.
Over the weeks, the tea was joined by a small muffin, a piece of fruit, or a packet of biscuits. It was a silent apology for their unspoken messy nights, a small, tangible way for Harry to show he cared.
The thumping bass of the music was a physical thing, something kind of pop rock busting out of the speakers.
Harry had already given up on trying to talk to anyone; the party was too loud, too chaotic, and he was feeling the familiar, uncomfortable weight of his own social awkwardness.
He’d ducked into the kitchen, a quieter space, to grab another beer and get his bearings. And that’s when he saw him- fit, beautiful, pretty with a confident tilt to his chin, leaning against the counter.
His first thought was how beautiful he was, the low light catching in his hair, perfect cheekbones above the bluest eyes he had ever seen before.
Then the boy spoke, and his words were a sharp, unexpected delight.
"What do you want, Harry?," the omega said, all sass and fire.
Harry couldn't help but smile. Most people in this crowd were either intimidated by him or overly-eager, but this one was different. He was bold, and Harry found himself completely captivated.
He leaned in close to the smaller one’s ear, just to make sure he was heard, his voice low and smoky.
"Are you hungry, Louis?" the alpha asked deliberately.
Louis’s breath hitched at the proximity, a small, perfect sound that made a wave of pure want crash through Harry. Louis blinked, the question catching him off guard.
"WHAT?" he managed to squawk, a little surprised and slightly aroused by the unexpected delicious smell of Harry up close.
A small, smug smirk played on Harry's lips. "I mean, if you are hungry we can go get some pizza, sober up a little. I think you've had enough to drink tonight."
“¡Hey! I get to say when I had enough to drink-” the omega playfully exclaimed, “-but yeah, i could eat now”
Louis agreed with a simple nod, and a wave of relief washed over the alpha at knowing he will get to share more time with the omega.
“Of course you do.”
Harry could feel himself agreeing with everything the omega said in the future and didn't feel a bit uncomfortable about it so he led the way, pulling Louis's hand through the party chaos and out into the cool night air.
The party was a distant memory. They walked hand-in-hand to Harry's car and Louis couldn't help but let out a little gasp when he saw the big black Range Rover.
Harry chuckled at the sight and opened the passenger side for Louis before he went and got into the driver's side.
They drove a few blocks to a brightly-lit pizza joint, sharing a large pepperoni pizza and a few cans of soda, the easy conversation flowing as they sobered up.
Afterwards, Harry insisted on getting Louis a scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream, saying it was the best ice cream on campus, even if it wasn't an ice cream parlor and Louis giggled, a genuine, bell-like sound that made Harry's chest ache in the best way.
Harry leaned back, a soft smile on his face.
"I promise you it's the best ice cream on campus," Harry said, his voice a low rumble. "And they make it themselves."
"How can they have good ice cream if they make pizza, Harry?" Louis asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.
Harry’s smile grew, a flash of pure charm.
"I'll tell you what. If you like the ice cream, which I'm sure you're gonna love, you let me drive you to your dorm."
"And if I don't?" Louis shot back, playing along.
"You get to kick me in the balls," Harry said, completely straight-faced.
Louis almost fell off his chair from laughing so hard about the alpha's response.
The sound was the best thing Harry had ever heard, a pure, uninhibited joy that made his own heart feel like it was glowing.
The way Louis's eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed made Harry feel so warm, so completely gone for him already.
He wanted to do anything to hear that sound again.
Turns out Louis loved the ice cream so no balls were kicked that night.
As Harry pulled up to Louis's dorm building, a gentle quiet had settled between them.
The night had been perfect.
Louis unbuckled his seatbelt, and Harry leaned over, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Louis's lips.
It was slow and sweet, a promise of a future that felt a thousand times more intimate than anything they ever felt before.
"Goodnight, Louis," Harry murmured, his thumb stroking Louis's cheek.
"Goodnight, Harry," Louis replied, his voice a soft whisper.
He stepped out of the car, and Harry didn't pull away until Louis was safely inside, the porch light glowing behind him.
All that mattered was the warm, steady thrilling knowledge that this was just the beginning.
Of course somewhere between pizza and ice cream, Harry had pulled out his phone and offered it to Louis.
"Put your number in please." Louis, a little dazed but grinning, had quickly typed it in.
Now, a couple of days later, the texts had become a constant, easy stream between them.
Harry: How's your day going, love? Hope today wasn't too boring.
Louis: It was fine. My history professor is obsessed with Shakespeare, so I had to endure another hour of that. It's a good thing I'm an English student, or I might actually fall asleep in there. You?
Harry: Just got done with a tattoo consultation. Someone wants a massive back piece of a phoenix. A bit ambitious, but I'm excited. It's a nice change of pace from my art history classes, though.
Louis: I bet it's gonna be amazing.
Harry: It is. But not as amazing as this.
Louis: As what, you goose?
Harry: Getting to text you.
Louis: You're so cheesy. But I'll admit, it's nice hearing from you.
Harry: I was thinking, maybe we could get some coffee later?
Louis: I'd like that.
Harry: Cool. We can go to that little place off campus, what's it called? Caffeine hugs?
Louis: Yeah, that's the one. Sounds silly, but I'm curious tho
Harry: Yeah, Liam says they have yummy pastries
btw he is throwing a huge Halloween this weekend. Do you wanna go with me?
We could get some coffee and then go costume shopping. It'll be a two-for-one.
Louis: A Halloween party? Idk I don't really do costumes.
Harry: You can't be serious.
You have to go. It's the best party of the year.
We can go as something simple. What about a classic duo? Like peanut butter and jelly? Or salt and pepper?
Louis: lol
Peanut butter and jelly? We'd look ridiculous.
Harry: I think we'd look adorable. But I'm open to suggestions.
Over the next few days, meeting for "a couple of hours" turned into a slow, deliberate series of dates that had nothing to do with costumes.
There was coffee at Caffeine Hugs, where their easy conversation flowed for hours.
Then there was the campus tour that Harry insisted on giving Louis, pointing out his favorite study spots and the hidden benches where he'd sketch.
They went downtown to buy costumes, but got sidetracked by a vintage record store where they spent an hour digging through old vinyls, their fingers brushing as they reached for the same album.
The sexual tension was a simmering undercurrent to every interaction.
The way Harry's eyes would linger on Louis's lips when he spoke, or the way Louis would unconsciously lean into Harry's space.
Every casual touch felt like a deliberate spark.
It was a dance of unspoken promises, and they were both enjoying the long, drawn-out rhythm of it.
The night of the party, Harry pulled up to Louis's dorm on his huge range rover.
Louis got in, his costume a playful surprise—a hot nurse, complete with crisp white scrubs that hugged his body in all the right places, and a small, ridiculous nurse's hat perched on his head.
Harry, on the other hand, was dressed as Hercules, the costume consisting of nothing more than a flowing loincloth with a belt and a red bandana on his forehead. The air in the car thickened instantly.
The scent of Louis's body was a sweet, intoxicating perfume.
It took everything in Harry to keep his eyes on the road.
"Love the skirt..." Harry began, his voice a low, gravelly drawl as his alpha instincts flared, his own body reacting to Louis's.
Louis swallowed, his heart pounding.
"Thank you" he managed, his voice a little strained.
He hadn't realized how the sight of Harry, bare-chested and confident, would affect him.
The sexual tension was no longer a simmering undercurrent; it was a tidal wave.
Louis's body was screaming for a closeness that the car couldn't provide.
He leaned forward, catching a scent that was both familiar and overwhelmingly new—the scent of Harry, and his own mixed inside the car's captivity.
A wave of dizziness and sultrines hit him.
He turned to Harry, his eyes wide and surprised.
"I don't think I can go to the party," Louis whispered, his voice shaky.
"Not feeling like this. Too warm and dizzy."
“What do you mean Lou? Do you want me to turn around? We can go back to your dorm.” Harry said suddenly too worried.
“No no no, lets go to your house is closer and I dont know what’s going on with me, I'm scared, I dont want to be alone right now.”
“Okay, don't worry baby I got you” the alpha said with a frown
The drive to Harry's house was silent, tense with a need that had reached a fever pitch.
Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the fabric of his panties now wet and warm against his skin.
A wave of shame and panic washed over him at the uncontrollable response of his body.
He pressed his thighs together, a useless attempt to stop the embarrassing leak that was making him feel so exposed.
He was hot, flushed, and acutely aware of the scent he must be giving off.
The smell of his own arousal mixed with the overwhelming scent of Harry's comforting hormones, a powerful combination that was making his head spin.
Harry, for his part, was struggling to keep his hands on the steering wheel.
Every breath he took was filled with Louis's scent, a sweet, overwhelming waft of dark chocolate that was driving him to the brink.
His own desire, triggered by Louis's proximity and the sight of his naked perfectly tanned legs, was provoking a painful ache in his groin.
He glanced at Louis, seeing the flushed cheeks, the wide, panicked eyes, and the way his hands were clenched in his lap.
The sight of his omega in such a vulnerable, flustered state was the final piece of the puzzle, it clicked.
“Darling... I think you are going into heat”
“Omg! But I'm not due for another two months”
“I’m sorry Louis but, I can't just leave you like this, my alpha wont let me, you can stay at my house, I'll go to Liam’s meanwhile, I'll drop you food and check on you and everything.” The alpha caring more about Louis's comfort and safety before his own needs.
“No, please Harry, stay with me please”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I like you, and, I wouldn't want to share it with anyone else, and I don't want to be alone, I'm scared, I never had a heat outside of my pack territory, all this is very new to me and you make me feel safe, please don't leave me”
“Of course I won't leave you baby, I promise to take care of you” the alpha said fighting his own instincts in the car, focusing only on getting Louis home safely.
His want doesn't truly set in until he's able to relax in his own space, surrounded by his scent, where he can finally give in to his arousal without fear.
They stepped inside his house, the door closing behind them with a definitive click, and the air was thick with Harry’s scent, a powerful, comforting scent of cedar wood and roses that made Louis feel grounded and safe, despite his pounding heart.
For Harry it was like the floodgates opened.
The air inside was a sensory overload, thick with Harry's powerful scent, his scent-marked territory.
In the car, his rational mind had been in control, focused on getting Louis to safety.
But here, with Louis in his home, looking so pretty and flushed, his alpha instincts screamed.
The sight of his omega surrounded by his scent, was the final, irreversible trigger for his own rut.
His conscious control evaporated.
He moved on instinct, his hands coming up to cup Louis's face, his thumbs stroking his cheeks.
Louis, unable to wait another second, surged forward, his lips meeting Harry's in a desperate, hungry kiss.
They stumbled through the living room, shedding their costumes, the leather harness and starched white scrubs discarded on the floor like an afterthought.
The world narrowed to just the two of them, their bodies pressed together.
Louis ran his hands through Harry's curls, pulling at the soft strands as Harry's lips trailed a path down his neck.
They were a tangle of limbs and soft groans as they made their way to Harry's room.
On the bed, their movements were slow at first, a gentle exploration.
Harry traced the lines of Louis’s body with his fingertips, committing every curve and freckle to memory, and Louis answered with tender kisses to Harry's broad shoulders and chest.
It was a dance of anticipation, of soft touches and whispered words, a delicate intimacy before the heat of their bodies became too much to bear.
They reached for the condoms, a silent agreement to be safe.
The first time was desperate, filled with the pent-up tension of weeks of longing.
Even with the knot, it wasn’t enough.
The friction of the latex was a barrier to the raw intimacy they both craved.
They moved together again and again, each time more frantic than the last, until finally, Harry reached for a condom and found the box empty.
"Shit," Harry breathed, pulling back just slightly.
"Lou... there's no more.” Harry breathed, his mind instantly racing.
Panic, sharp and cold, cut through the haze of his rut.
He couldn't leave his omega now, not when he was so close and so overwhelmed by his heat.
He couldn't go to the store, and he couldn't call a delivery service.
The presence and scent of a stranger would only make everything worse, contaminating the space and messing with his hormone-fueled head.
"We need to stop."
A flash of pure panic crossed Louis's face.
The idea of stopping, of being left alone in his heightened state, was a physical pain.
"No, no," he begged, his voice raw.
"We'll be fine, Harry. I love you."
The words, so pure and desperate, hung in the air.
Harry's eyes widened, seeing the naked truth in Louis's gaze. A soft smile touched his lips, a mixture of disbelief and pure adoration.
"I love you too," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
With that, all barriers vanished.
Their second time was a fever dream, an intimate climax of two bodies finally coming together with nothing between them.
The knot, unhindered, lasted longer, and they found a deep, soul-shattering satisfaction that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with connection.
When they finally came down from the high, they were both spent, their bodies slick with sweat and contentment.
Harry stayed buried inside of Louis, the knot a silent promise of his devotion. He kissed Louis's forehead, holding him tight as Louis's breathing evened out.
The only thing he could think of was how right this felt, how peaceful Louis looked in his arms, his body finally content, finally at home.
When Louis's eyes fluttered open, the first thing he noticed wasn't the lingering ache in his body, but the overwhelming sense of peace.
He was nestled securely against a warm, solid chest, a powerful, familiar scent of cedarwood and roses surrounding him.
It was the best sleep he’d ever had.
For a moment, he just lay there, content, before a memory of the previous night came rushing back.
The heat, the desperation, the raw intimacy.
A soft blush spread across his cheeks, but it was quickly followed by a sense of calm.
The frantic energy of his heat was gone, replaced by a quiet, settled feeling in his core.
He shifted, and the arm around him tightened.
"Morning," Harry's voice rumbled, low and husky.
Louis craned his neck to look at him.
"Morning."
He took a slow, deep breath, expecting the heady, intoxicating scent of Harry’s rut, but all he could smell was the normal, comforting scent of Harry.
The sharp, overwhelming pheromones were gone.
He looked at Harry, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Wait... did your rut just... end?"
Harry blinked, his eyes slowly focusing.
He took a sniff, a small, puzzled frown forming on his lips.
"It feels like it. My rut It's... gone. It's not supposed to be this fast. Is your heat...?"
"Gone," Louis confirmed, a surprised, breathless laugh escaping his lips.
"I feel completely normal. Well, besides the fact that I'm naked in your bed. It was only... a night. We had a heat and rut that only lasted a single night."
The realization was a shock for both of them, but not an unpleasant one.
It was a testament to the powerful, instant connection they shared. They didn't need a full, week-long biological cycle to feel satisfied.
All they needed was each other.
Harry’s arm tightened around him again, pulling him flush against his chest.
"I feel… good," he murmured, his face buried in Louis's hair.
"Better than good. The best I’ve ever felt."
Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, feeling the firm muscles under his hands.
"Me too." He looked up at Harry, his eyes meeting him.
An expression of open, vulnerable adoration. Louis felt a wave of love wash over him, so pure and honest it almost hurt.
He knew, without a doubt, that he meant those words he’d blurted out last night.
And looking at Harry, he knew he felt the same.
There was no awkwardness, no confusion.
The air was charged not with lust, but with a quiet, profound tenderness.
They had just shared the most intimate act of their lives, and the morning after wasn’t a period of regret or confusion, but a peaceful beginning.
"So," Harry said, his voice a little shaky as he found his footing. "I guess... we should talk?"
Louis smiled, his heart soaring.
"Yeah. I think we do."
The two of them sat up, pulling the comforter over their laps.
Harry ran a gentle hand over Louis's cheek.
"I've never felt this way before," he confessed, his voice soft.
"Not from the moment I saw you. It's... a lot. And I know it's probably crazy to say this after one night on heat, but I feel like I've known you forever. Everything about you just clicks with me."
Louis nodded, leaning into Harry's touch.
"I thought it was just the heat, at first. The way you looked at me, the way I felt around you... but last night... it was different. It felt like coming home."
The conversation fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions settling between them.
Louis broke the quiet with a gentle touch to Harry’s shoulder.
"Wait, so" Louis said, his voice a soft puzzle.
"Is this normal? I mean... our cycles just... ending? It is odd, right?"
Harry frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I don't think it happens to other people regularly. Maybe it was like a soft cycle or something like that?." He paused, his expression turning thoughtful.
In the back of his mind, he was thinking about an old folk story his mother used to tell him as a kid.
A tale about soulmates who find each other and their bodies recognize the match so intensely that it shortens their cycle, allowing them to fully connect without the long, agonizing wait.
He didn't say it out loud, not wanting to sound crazy, but the thought was there, a seed of hope.
"Maybe?" Louis asked, looking around the room as if searching for a hidden answer.
Harry ran a hand through his hair.
"I don't know, love. I've never heard of anything like this. It's like our bodies just hit the fast-forward button." He looked at Louis and offered a gentle, reassuring smile.
"It just means we're meant to be, I guess."
"I mean I think this kind of thing can happen if we are stressed and I don't know about you but it’s been hard for me lately adapting to all this newness, I miss my family I even got a little bit of touch depri the first weeks, but you have been such a great help" The omega said smiling, looking at Hatty with a grateful look.
"I’m glad I could help, I'm sure you must miss them terribly?" Harry asked, his voice soft, as he watched Louis's eyes lose focus for a moment.
"Yeah" Louis asked, pulling his eyes from the window to look at him.
Louis's heart melted a little at Harry's thoughtfulness.
"My family is... special, a small pack in the north of Doncaster, and really tight-knit. But in a good way." He gave him a small, sad smile.
"My mum's a midwife back there. She says I'm the fifth generation of male omegas in our family, which is a bit odd. I was always told to just... wait since I was a late bloomer, that my instincts would kick in. I've been around babies my whole life, so the instinct to care for others, to mother, is like a second skin to me, and I'm so tired of it, especially with my four sisters. I needed to get away, that's why I took the chance to study English Lit here in London.”
He took a deep breath.
"Everything in London is still pretty new to me. And honestly, it's a bit lonely. There aren't a lot of male omegas around. Most of them are female." He looked up at Harry, his eyes earnest.
"And before last night, my... experience... was pretty limited. A couple of heats after presenting and that's it."
Harry's expression was one of pure empathy.
"I get that," he said, his voice a low, reassuring murmur.
"I come from a family of all alphas, even my younger sister."
"And I was a late bloomer too. I only had my first rut a few months ago. And even then, it was just... empty. It was so intense, but there was no one there. I just had to ride it out on my own. It was a really lonely experience. You're the first person I've ever felt anything this deep for. This real."
He squeezed Louis's hand again, his thumb stroking his knuckles.
"I'm glad you told me all that about you. Thanks for sharing about your family, you make me feel less alone too."
A comfortable silence fell between them once more, this one filled with a new level of understanding and trust.
They were both late bloomers, both new to this side of themselves, and both had found a home in the other's arms.
“So what about your parents?… Do you live here alone?” Louis asked, his voice soft, as he looked around the spacious bedroom.
Harry’s gaze dropped to the comforter, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.
"Yeah, I do. This house is kind of a family heirloom. It's been in my family for like fifty years, my dad, my granddad and his dad before him, they all came to this same college, and they lived in this house, they're all very serious, straight-laced kind of people. All they ever talked about was tradition and legacy. They all studied law."
He looked up at Louis, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.
"They kind of... judged me for choosing art. For drawing, for painting. My grandad is a very big deal in the law world. To them, it's just a hobby, something I'll grow out of. They don't get that it's my passion. For them being an alpha and having the sensitivity to enjoy art don't go together. My grandad always thought I was slow because I take so much time to paint or draw, he’s such a fast lived men even at such an old age, and I don't care about money as much as I care about expressing myself, the only reason they let me stay in this house is cause of pure tradition, I think they respect my tattoos thought, and that I have my own tattoo studio.”
Louis's heart ached for him.
He reached out and took Harry's hand, squeezing it gently.
"I think what you do is incredible, Harry. And your family can have their laws, but you get to have your art permanently on other people skin."
Harry's expression softened, and he squeezed Louis's hand back.
"Thanks, love." A small, private smile spread across his face, and Louis felt himself getting lost in the green of his eyes again.
"Okay, enough serious talk," Harry said, the playful light returning to his eyes.
"Let's go get breakfast. I know a great pancake place not too far from here."
Louis's stomach rumbled at the suggestion, a stark contrast to the emotional intensity of their conversation.
He grinned, feeling the easy, comfortable connection between them return.
"Pancakes sound perfect."
The next few weeks fell into a sweet, comfortable routine.
Their phones were constantly buzzing with texts, a stream of witty comments, silly memes, and questions about their day.
Louis would wake up to a "good morning" text from Harry, and Harry would wake up to a picture of Louis's messy bedhead.
They were a constant presence in each other's lives.
Louis didn't know how he ever managed before this, and the clinginess was something he not only welcomed but actively encouraged.
Every morning, Harry would show up at Louis's dorm with his favorite breakfast—sometimes it was a croissant, other times a muffin, and once, to Louis’s great amusement, a ridiculously large coffee with a mountain of whipped cream.
He always made sure to get Louis's order just right, and Louis loved watching Harry’s small, satisfied smile as he watched him take his first sip.
One Thursday afternoon, after their classes were over, Harry took Louis to his tattoo studio for the first time.
The space was a reflection of Harry himself: stylishly chaotic, with art supplies and drawings scattered across every surface, a massive, worn leather couch in the corner, and a powerful, clean scent of antiseptic and ink in the air.
A tall, dark-haired man with a confident aura looked up from the drawing he was working on.
"Finally decided to show up, H?" he said with a smirk.
His eyes lingered on Louis for a moment before he got up to greet him.
"You must be Louis. I'm Zayn. Harry's been talking about you non-stop."
Louis's cheeks flushed, and he nudged Harry with his elbow.
Harry just laughed, a genuine, joyful sound.
"Zayn, this is Louis. Louis, this is Zayn, my business partner and best friend. He's an alpha, but he’s harmless."
"Don't mind him," Zayn said, shaking Louis's hand with a firm, warm grip.
"He's just jealous I'm so much better at tattooing than he is."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"You wish."
They fell into an easy rhythm, with Harry explaining the new tattoo he was working on and Zayn adding his own sarcastic comments.
It was clear they had an easy, brotherly dynamic.
"Hey, we're having a party this Saturday," Zayn said, looking from Harry to Louis.
"Nothing crazy. Just some art students and a few other people from the scene. You guys should come."
Harry looked at Louis, a silent question in his eyes.
"We'd love to," Louis replied before Harry could even open his mouth.
He was intrigued by Zayn and curious about Harry's art world.
The night of the party, Louis arrived in a simple black shirt that hugged his frame, a stark contrast to the bold, colorful outfits of the other guests.
He was immediately pulled into a conversation with a few of Harry’s friends, and as the night went on, he found himself laughing and talking with them freely.
Harry was in his element, surrounded by his friends, a radiant smile on his face.
Louis's happiness was interrupted by a new voice, a tall, handsome man with sharp features and a confident scent that spoke of his alpha nature.
"Hey, you're Louis, right? I'm Jacob," he said, holding out his hand.
He was an alpha, and a powerful one, and his eyes lingered on Louis for a moment.
"I've seen you around with Harry," Jacob continued, a glint in his eye. "You're a good-looking omega. He's lucky to have you."
Louis felt a shiver of unease. Jacob's words were a compliment, but the tone felt possessive, like a challenge.
The scent from the powerful alpha made him feel on edge, and his smile faltered.
He looked around the room for Harry, only to see him across the room, his eyes already locked on Louis and Jacob.
The radiant smile on his face was gone, replaced by a tense, protective scowl.
Harry’s powerful scent suddenly filled the room.
Louis felt a wave of relief wash over him.
He knew Harry was there, and that he belonged with him.
“So… Are you two... dating?" Jacob asked, like poison coming out of his mouth.
The question hit Louis like a punch to the gut.
Dating?
He didn't know.
He hadn't thought about it, or rather, he had been so caught up in the bubble of their new routine that he had just assumed.
His smile faltered, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
The confident alpha's scent, which had been simply present, now felt overwhelming and suffocating.
He stammered, unable to form a coherent response.
He looked around the crowded room, a desperate need for air overwhelming him.
The music, the laughter, the scents—it all became too much.
He mumbled a quick, "Excuse me," and pushed through the crowd, heading for the exit.
Harry’s gaze had been on him the entire time.
He saw the shift in Louis’s posture, the way his smile had vanished, the sudden panic in his eyes.
He didn’t hesitate.
He wove through the throng of people, his own heart thrumming with alarm.
He found Louis on the front porch, curled in on himself, a silent, painful sob shaking his shoulders.
"Lou?" Harry's voice was a soft, worried murmur.
Louis flinched, but didn't look up.
He felt the familiar, comforting scent of cedarwood and roses around him, a stark contrast to the overwhelming scents of the party.
He finally looked at Harry, his eyes wide and filled with tears.
"What are we, Harry?" Louis asked, his voice a pained whisper. "What are we?"
Harry's brow furrowed in confusion.
"What do you mean, 'what are we'? I thought you knew. We're..." He trailed off as he saw the raw hurt in Louis's eyes, the way his face crumpled into a tearful, heartbroken expression.
And then, it hit him. Like a freight train.
They had been so caught up in the whirlwind of their connection that he hadn't thought to ask.
He had just assumed.
He was a bad alpha. A terrible, neglectful, self-absorbed alpha.
His protective instincts flared up, not against an outside threat, but against his own foolishness.
He wrapped his arms around Louis, pulling him into a tight, secure hug, burying his face in his hair.
"Oh, Lou. I'm so, so sorry," Harry whispered, his voice thick with guilt and shame.
"I'm such an idiot... you've been my omega for a while now. and... I forgot to ask you. Formally. I'm so, so sorry, love."
He pulled back, his hands gently cradling Louis's face.
He looked at him, his eyes filled with a raw, honest sincerity that made Louis's tears fall even faster.
"Nothing... nothing would make me happier than you accepting me. But I'll understand if you don't. You deserve better than an alpha who forgets to ask you out. I promise I'll make it up to you, every single day."
“I want you to be my boyfriend Harry, you are my alpha already but I want to be able to tell other people that you are my boyfriend”
The omega said bravely, breathing more calmly now that he exteriorized his burdening
They were boyfriends.
The simple word felt like a promise.
Their days settled into a new, beautiful rhythm.
They spent every spare moment together.
Their lovemaking was no longer fumbling or desperate; it was a familiar, soothing dance.
They knew each other's bodies by heart, every touch and sigh a language of its own.
Louis's familiar scent, dark chocolate, had begun to shift. It now carried a subtle, creamy sweetness that Harry couldn't get enough of.
They'd noticed the change a few weeks in, but they just attributed it to being constantly tangled up in each other's spaces, their scents naturally mixing.
Louis would start dinner while Harry worked on a new tattoo design, their easy banter filling the air.
Their lives became a comfortable blur of art, study sessions, and quiet domesticity.
The sexual tension was still there, but it was now a warm, comforting hum beneath the surface of their new life.
One morning, in their art history class, the professor was droning on about Impressionism.
Harry was sketching Louis's profile in the margin of his notebook when he noticed Louis abruptly stand up.
Louis grabbed his bag, gave Harry a small, worried glance, and hurried out of the lecture hall without a word.
Harry’s own heart began to pound with worry, a cold dread twisting in his stomach.
He quickly gathered their things, shoving notebooks and pens into his backpack, and followed him out.
He found Louis in the men's bathroom, hunched over a sink, splashing cold water on his face.
He was pale and shaking.
Harry's heart ached at the sight.
"Lou, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.
Louis just shook his head, unable to speak, and leaned against the cool tile wall.
Harry’s instincts kicked in.
"We're going to the ER, now," he said, his voice firm and final.
"You're not okay, and I'm not taking any chances."
He didn’t wait for an answer, just took Louis's hand in his and led him out the door.
The drive to the hospital was silent, thick with a tension they couldn’t quite name.
Louis sat with his head against the cool glass of the passenger window, eyes closed, his hand clutching Harry’s with a fierce, desperate grip.
The familiar scent of Harry’s car, usually a comfort, now felt heavy and cloying in the small space.
Inside the emergency room, the air was cold and sterile, smelling of antiseptic and chlorine.
The fluorescent lights hummed with a flat, unflattering glow.
Harry filled out the paperwork, his hand shaky as he wrote down Louis’s details.
After what felt like an eternity, they were called back to a small, private room.
A kind-faced nurse with soft brown eyes introduced herself as Sarah.
She had a calm, steady presence that put them both a little at ease.
After listening to Louis's symptoms, she took his vitals and stepped out to get some tests ready.
A few minutes later, she returned with a gentle smile.
"Well, Louis, all of your vitals look good," she began, her tone gentle.
"But we have your lab results back, and it appears you're pregnant."
The words hung in the air like a bomb.
Louis's breath hitched, and the hand in Harry's went completely slack.
Harry stared at the nurse, his mind reeling, trying to process what she had just said.
Pregnancy?
That was impossible.
They had been so careful.
But the knot, the short cycle… it all made sense now, a terrible, dizzying kind of sense.
"As college students, we know this can be a difficult situation," Sarah continued, her voice empathetic.
"We have resources available to help you navigate this. You have options. We can discuss continuing the pregnancy, or we can talk about the different procedures and what they entail."
She paused, giving them a moment to take in the gravity of her words.
"Before any decisions are made, however, we need to schedule an ultrasound. It's important to confirm the viability of the pregnancy and to determine a due date. This is a necessary step, regardless of what you choose to do."
She handed Louis a pamphlet with information on their options, leaving them alone to sit with the weight of the news.
The silence was deafening, filled only with the rhythmic beeping of the machines in the hallway.
Louis finally looked at Harry, his eyes wide, terrified, and full of a question Harry didn't know how to answer.
Louis pulled his hand away from Harry’s.
The touch, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a brand, a reminder of the act that had brought them to this terrifying moment.
He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his mind racing. "Pregnant".
The word echoed in his head, a foreign and terrifying concept.
Back home, in the small, tight-knit pack he’d grown up in, there were no options.
You got pregnant, you had a baby.
Omegas were taught to embrace their role as nurturers, to welcome new life.
His mother, a midwife, was a living testament to that.
Abortion was a concept he'd only read about in textbooks, something that happened to people he didn't know, in a world that felt a million miles away.
He felt a primal, deep-seated fear.
He was an omega, and his body had done what it was born to do.
Why did he feel like such a failure? Why did he feel like he was trapped in a cage?
"Lou, it's okay," Harry said, his voice a low, soothing rumble, though his own eyes were wide with a mix of shock and a strange, nascent joy.
He reached for Louis's hand again, but Louis flinched away.
Harry’s face fell, confusion clouding his features.
"We'll be okay. We'll figure this out."
Louis shook his head, tears blurring his vision. "We can't, Harry. We're in college."
"So? We'll make it work," Harry insisted, his tone becoming more reassuring.
He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Louis with a genuine, almost blissful expression.
"Louis, I've always wanted a baby. A family. And with you… with you, it would be perfect." He reached out, his hand hovering, wanting so badly to touch Louis.
"I have money, Lou. My dad's side of the family, the Styles, they've all been lawyers for generations. I got into this art school for the experience more than anything. My tattoo business? It's a passion, a side project. I inherited my father's wealth. We don't have to worry about school or jobs. We can do this."
His words, meant to be comforting, had the opposite effect.
They landed like a series of body blows.
His father's wealth.
He was an alpha who had everything handed to him.
All he had to do was show up to class.
He didn’t understand the fear, the struggle.
Louis's upbringing had taught him to be a caregiver, to work hard for everyone else sake.
He wasn't a bad omega for not wanting this, but in that moment, he felt like one.
A total failure.
His composure broke.
He sobbed, the sound a gut-wrenching cry of pure anguish.
He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with the force of his emotions.
"I'm having an abortion," he choked out, the words muffled but firm. "Harry. I'm having an abortion."
Louis didn't wait for a response.
He pushed himself off the bed, a wave of dizziness making him sway for a second before he caught himself.
He didn't look at Harry as he stumbled out of the room, through the sterile white hallway, and out the hospital doors.
Harry called his name, but Louis just ran, his legs burning, his lungs aching, until he was at the university gates.
He didn’t stop until he was safely inside his dorm, the heavy door locked behind him.
He ignored the frantic pounding on the other side, the muffled pleas from Harry.
Louis just wanted to be alone. He pulled his knees to his chest and let the tears fall, a deep, cleansing sob racking his body.
Meanwhile, Harry was losing his mind.
He waited for hours outside Louis's door, calling and texting, getting no response.
The silence was a crushing weight.
He felt a deep, primitive fear.
The omega he had claimed was pushing him away.
He started to panic, the alpha instincts he’d suppressed for so long roaring to life.
He couldn’t lose Louis.
He wouldn’t.
He began to think, obsessively, of every way he could convince Louis, every argument he could make.
He could talk to his parents, convince them to set up a trust fund for the baby.
He could give up art history, focus on his tattoo studio.
He could give Louis anything.
His possessiveness, his innate need to protect and provide, took over.
He was so terrified of losing Louis that he failed to see he was already pushing him away.
Harry felt himself going insane.
He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep.
He spent his days in a fog, his phone in his hand, a constant, nagging need to check on Louis, to make sure he was okay.
On Wednesday morning, he was on his daily run with Niall.
The cool air was a balm on his skin, but it did little to calm the fire in his mind.
Niall, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside Harry, was talking about a party.
"We should go to a pin later, mate. Just to relax."
Harry snapped, his voice sharp and uncharacteristic.
"How can I relax, Niall?" he growled, stopping dead in his tracks.
Niall looked at him, surprised.
"How can I think about anything when I don’t know if my omega has eaten yet or if he's cold?. It’s driving me nuts, man."
Niall, seeing the raw panic in Harry's eyes, just nodded.
"Right, sorry mate. Just try to breathe."
Harry barely heard him.
He turned and ran home, the cold shower he took doing nothing to wash away the anxiety.
He checked his phone for the thousandth time in the last hour, but his text to Louis from the night before remained unanswered.
Harry: please answer me baby
I just want to know you are alright
He waited.
Days went by in a blur of anxiety and silent dread.
He went to class, but he didn't hear a word the professor said.
He ate, but he couldn't taste anything.
It was a dark, isolated existence.
He would check his phone every few minutes, his heart pounding in his chest with a desperate, foolish hope.
He thought about the look of sheer terror in Louis's eyes, the way his body had trembled.
He thought about his own words—I’ve always wanted a baby… with you, it would be perfect.
How selfish he had been.
He hadn't seen Louis at all, just his own idealized future.
All his plans, his possessiveness, his desire to be a "good alpha," were pushing the one person he wanted more than anything away.
His obsession hadn't been about the baby; it had been about keeping Louis.
But the baby was a cage, and Louis needed to be free.
He didn’t want to trap Louis; he just wanted him.
By Sunday afternoon, just hours before their appointment, Louis's answer finally came.
It was a small, quiet, and heartbreaking crack in his silence.
Louis: I’m sorry I’m such a bad omega
A wave of relief so powerful it almost knocked him off his feet crashed over Harry.
The tears he didn’t even know he was holding back fell freely. He typed his response in a desperate rush, his thumbs fumbling over the keys.
Harry: no baby you are my perfect omega, and I promise you ill be there for you no matter what
Louis: no, I can't
Harry: of course you can baby you are the most powerful omega in the world
Louis: meet you tomorrow for the appointment anyways
Harry read the last text, the words "meet you tomorrow for the appointment anyways" echoing in his mind.
He looked at his own words, at the frantic, desperate tone, and finally, he understood.
He had been so consumed with his own desire to have a baby with Louis, so focused on trapping him, that he hadn't listened.
He hadn't seen Louis's fear.
He hadn't seen the tears, the panic, the feeling in his eyes.
He had been so blind.
All his possessiveness, his innate need to protect and provide, had pushed the one person he wanted more than anything away.
He found himself thinking about the way Louis’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way his hand felt in his.
That was what he wanted.
Not a baby.
He just wanted Louis.
The tears he hadn't even realized he was holding back fell freely.
Harry drove to the clinic. He found Louis in the waiting room, alone.
He didn’t say a word, just sat beside him and wrapped his arm around him.
Louis flinched at first, but then he relaxed into Harry’s touch, a quiet sob escaping his lips.
"I'm so, so sorry, Lou," Harry whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"I messed up so badly. I was so focused on what I thought I wanted, on this idea of having a family, that I didn't see you. I didn't see how scared you were. All I want is you, Lou. No one else but you. This isn't about the baby, it's about us. You are my world, and I promise you, whatever you decide, I will be with you every single step of the way."
Louis looked at Harry, the weight of the last week heavy in his eyes.
"Harry, I want to be clear," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
"We had sex without protection, just because our bodies need it... that doesn't mean we're having a baby. Our bodies want things, but our minds have to make the choices. We'll have a family when we're ready. We need with our heads thinking about what's best for us. And our family, now, is us. You and me."
Harry just stared at him for a moment, a wave of profound respect and love washing over him.
"That's the wisest thing I've ever heard," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
"You're perfect, Lou. So special, I’m so fucking happy I met you."
"I just... I want it all, Harry," he said, his voice quiet and shaky.
"I want to have a baby with you, but I want it to be a real choice. I want a house with a white picket fence, a garden full of flowers, and a golden retriever." He paused, a small, sad smile on his face.
"I want to do it when we're ready."
Harry reached for his hand, his thumb stroking Louis's knuckles.
"You're right, my love. It has to be our choice at the right time," Harry murmured.
His gaze was so full of adoration that it made Louis's chest ache.
"I would wait a lifetime for you. I was so caught up in the idea of it all that I didn't stop to think about what you wanted. But you are the most amazing omega in the world, and you deserve a family when you want one, not when some random heat cycle decides it for us. The timing doesn't matter, my love for you is what matters."
A kind nurse called their names and led them to a small, private room.
Louis lay on the examination table, his shirt pulled up, and the cold gel on his skin was a stark contrast to the warmth of Harry’s hand clutching his.
The nurse moved the wand over Louis’s stomach, and a blurry gray image appeared on the screen.
The nurse pointed to the screen.
"There it is, nine weeks," she said.
"The doctor told me you choose to have an abortion so you are right on time for it."
The nurse said with a kind smile.
After the ultrasound, they were led to a separate room to talk with the doctor.
Who gave them the instructions and the pills, and as a final check, a blood test was performed, with a surprised look on her face.
"Well, that's interesting," she said, looking at Louis.
"Your blood work here says the test for soulmates is positive. It appears you have already found your bond."
Louis's eyes widened in shock.
"What? That's impossible," he said, shaking his head.
"I've only mated with one alpha in my life—" He stopped, his eyes locking with Harry's.
The realization dawned on him.
The way their heat and rut lasted only a day, the way their scents had blended so perfectly.
It wasn't a strange case; it was fate.
They were soulmates.
Harry just smiled, a soft, loving expression on his face.
"I already knew," he said, his voice a low, confident rumble.
"It’s been you all along." The news, while not a surprise to Harry, felt like a powerful validation.
The universe had confirmed what his heart had known since that first day in art history class.
After their meeting with the doctor, they left with everything ready for the abortion and went back to Harry's house, a quiet understanding settling between them.
Harry's place was a sanctuary.
He tended to Louis in every way he could, bringing him tea, rubbing his back, and massaging his feet.
He made him chicken soup, feeding him spoonfuls until Louis felt a little more like himself.
Louis, warm and comfortable for the first time in days, found himself talking.
He told Harry about the time he and his friend Oli had gotten so drunk during their first week of classes that they ended up getting sick for a week straight.
They laughed and cried, and through it all, they said "I love you" a million times.
It wasn't just a physical recovery; it was an emotional one.
A week passed after that day.
They were inseparable, their bond feeling even stronger now that they were truly honest with each other.
They had more fun together than ever.
Louis, with a new lease on life, came up with a list of things he wanted to do before becoming a mom.
It was a mix of the wild and the wonderful: crow surfing, skating in the middle of the night, bungee jumping, huging a koala, driving across town, tc.
They were on an adventure of their own.
One day, Harry rented a helicopter tour.
He took Louis on a tour of the city, the skyscrapers a glittering forest below them.
As they hovered over the city, Harry turned to Louis, his eyes full of love.
"I can't get enough of you, Louis," he said, the noise of the helicopter a low thrum around them.
"And I can't get enough of our adventures together. So, will you move in with me?"
Louis’s eyes, wide with surprise and a touch of disbelief, met Harry’s.
The roar of the helicopter seemed to fade into a distant hum as the world outside their small bubble of warmth and shared breath melted away.
This was it.
The moment they had been dancing around for months, the one they both knew was coming, but had never dared to say out loud.
Louis’s heart, a bird trapped in his chest, fluttered wildly, but it wasn't from fear. It was from a powerful, overwhelming joy.
He didn't need to think about it, not for a second.
His answer was already there, living and breathing in the space between them. A wide, teary smile spread across his face, and he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss against Harry's lips.
"Of course, you big silly alpha," he whispered, the words trembling with emotion.
"I thought you'd never ask."
The next few days were a blur of boxes and old memories.
Harry, with his endless energy and a cheerful grin, helped Louis pack up his dorm room.
They laughed as they sorted through clothes, books, and half-forgotten trinkets.
They found some of Harry's old t-shirts that Louis had "borrowed" and conveniently "forgotten" to return.
"I knew it!" Harry exclaimed, pulling a faded band shirt from a box.
"I thought I lost this weeks ago."
Louis just shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"It smells like you," he said simply, and Harry's heart melted.
They didn't just move Louis's things; they merged their lives.
Harry's house, once a minimalist, art-filled space, slowly took on Louis's playful chaos.
A new, bright blue coffee mug appeared next to Harry's collection of ceramic ones.
A pile of Louis's art history books found a home on a previously empty shelf.
The dark chocolate scent of Louis's now mingled seamlessly with Harry's cedarwood and roses.
It was a fragrant, tangible sign that they were a family.
One evening, after they had finished unpacking the last box, they stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the comfortable clutter of their shared life.
Harry wrapped his arms around Louis from behind, resting his chin on Louis's shoulder.
"Look at this," Harry murmured, his voice a low, content rumble.
"Our home."
Louis turned in his arms, his hand resting on Harry's cheek.
"It's perfect," he said, and for the first time in a long time, the word felt completely, unequivocally true.
Their journey had been a long and winding one, but they had found their way home.
Not to a house, but to each other.
Their chosen family.