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Louis is speeding down the kerb on his skate when he bumps into a pink blur and falls arse down on the floor. He knows that same second that it’s his fault, because the figure came from around the corner of the sidewalk, where Louis should technically have slowed down. He was so used to disrespecting the pedestrian rules in Doncaster, where he knew the streets by heart, that a row of bushes blocking his vision of the intersection was meant to teach him a lesson not to do the same here.
He’s raised himself quickly from the floor, half a mind to apologize, when he sees who he hit. A soft looking teen with cherub cheeks is looking at him from the floor, with several stray flowers on his curly hair, looking ethereal and mumbling sorry after sorry.
To say he’s dumbstruck would be an understatement. Not only this androgynous teen is beautiful, but also Louis is actually not sure if they are a boy or a girl. He thinks a boy, from his size and his face, and yet they are wearing an oversized baby pink jumper with a light blue skinny jeans hugging long, skinny legs that end in white, decorated converse. Louis has never in all his life seen a boy dressed like that. Where he comes from, a boy dressed like that would be mocked to death, but maybe things in Cheshire are different. Maybe.
He holds out his hand to the teen and helps him of the ground, earning a smile and a “Thank you.”
“Oh. Your voice is really deep. I thought you were a girl at first.” The stranger’s smile turns strained then, and he starts tugging on his sleeves. Trust Louis to put his foot on his mouth in front of a beautiful boy he just met.
“Yeah, I’m, hm, sorry for bumping into you.” It would usually grate his nerves, how slow the boy speaks, but instead Louis feels as if he was being hypnotized by the deep voice.
“Absolutely my fault, mate, I was going too fast, I should have stopped before the bushes.” He’s rambling now, such a sharp contrast to the other boy’s speech, so he stops himself before he ends up scaring the boy even more. Somehow to Louis he seems very fragile. “Sorry, I’m Louis, you are?”
“Harry.” The smile is back on. “Nice to meet you. And it was a bit my fault too, I mean, I didn’t look before crossing.”
“What were you doing behind those bushes anyway? Tryin’ to give me a scare?” Louis stretches his neck as if trying to see past Harry. A joke is Louis’ way of softening the mood, but he’s also dying to know more about the mysterious boy in front of him. He hasn’t met anyone his age yet and probably won’t until school starts.
“Mrs. Higgins invites me to tea sometimes. And she lets me pick flowers of her garden.” Louis looks past Harry, finding a cosy looking house with a nurtured garden full of the same flowers on the boy’s hair –small blue florets and pink curly buds.
“For your hair? Doesn’t she find that weird?” He doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just curious, but Harry flinches at the words. “I mean, doesn’t she think it’s girly?” He wants to explain that it’s not wrong yet he keeps making it worse. “What I mean is–”
“Hm, I have to go, it was nice to meet you.” Harry cuts him off, looking down now and still fidgeting with his sleeves. Louis misses when he turns around to leave because he’s watching the boy’s arms, thinking how strange it is that Harry seems to be touching and twisting some bracelets underneath his sweater.
Harry starts walking briskly then, and Louis feels his stomach drop. Resigned, he hops back on his skate, still feeling puzzled, and heads home.
The encounter with Harry keeps Louis befuddled for the next few days. He spots the other boy briefly once, coming out of the stores, but before he can yell Harry’s name he gets pulled by the hands and dragged to the cookie aisle because the twins need an ally in convincing mum.
It’s pointless, he should know. They never convince mum.
The episode confirms Louis’ suspicion that they are neighbours, which gets him thinking that maybe he will also see Harry at school. Maybe they’ll even be classmates, since Harry looked about his age.
But he has to get Harry to talk to him first. Yet when he starts thinking he gave a bad first impression, he realizes he wouldn’t know how to do it any other way. The confusion gets worse then, because he can’t see what is it about Harry that makes Louis want to know him better, want to be his friend. Back in Donny, all his friends were other skater lads, who listened to punk music and played pranks with each other. They were rough in a way that would probably have sweet Harry in tears.
And he wouldn’t want that, so hanging with Harry would be definitely a sticky situation. He realizes he’s taken to calling the boy Hippie Harry on his head, which only adds to the point of their relationship being problematic.
Because Louis is a punk, but doesn’t mean he’s a bully. In fact, he will be the first one to step in an unjust situation, even if he does ends up doling justice with a bit of a strong fist. He’s got an attitude, alright, but that comes from being raised in Yorkshire by a strong, sassy mom, growing up around punk friends, and generally just thinking of banter as a superior form of interaction. And if he sometimes comes off strong, well, he figures people better toughen up and learn not to care about what others say.
He knows he doesn’t.
That’s why at first, Louis doesn’t think anything’s wrong with his new school. In his first day at Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School, he meets his form head, Nick Grimshaw, who he already likes better than his last one at Donny, if only because Mr. Grimshaw doesn’t even try to hide his contempt with the education system and youngsters in general, instead choosing to answer any disrespect with the sort of dry humour Louis generally enjoys.
At reception, Mr. Grimshaw instructs one of his classmates to show him around, so he gets stuck with Liam Payne, a fit footie player, who seems nice and well liked, though a bit cakey in Louis’ honest opinion. When Liam asks if he wants to spend lunch period together, he almost says no, but he’s glad he’s decided to give Liam a second chance when he introduces Louis to his boyfriend Zayn.
Zayn is quiet while Liam informs him on Louis’ past and present, information he acquired through long and arduous interrogation along the course of the morning, and also while Liam gives Louis a long list of Zayn’s likes, dislikes and a small bio. He looks proud of himself as he concludes about their shared interests, such as skating, rock music, smoking –which he notes that he doesn’t condone– and tattoos –Zayn has a few of them, Louis shows his own.
The rest of the day passes in a sluggish but merry pace, much like adolescence itself, in which they do nothing but talk shit and laugh, with occasional reproaches from teachers and Liam alike, even if the latter slips sometimes.
So maybe Cheshire isn’t so bad after all, cute boys who won’t talk to him aside.
The next time he sees Harry is in the toilets, his third day. He’s peeing, minding his business, when Harry steps into the urinal next to him, in complete discordance of bathroom etiquette. Not that Louis minds it that much. “Hi.” Louis says as he zips his jeans, and it startles Harry so that he turns his head around quickly and a bit of his pee ends up in Louis’ hand.
“Oops.” They keep ending in these scenes where Harry blushes and apologizes. A thought about how he would like to see that blush in a different situation passes through Louis’ mind, which is definitely not the right way to defuse an already awkward situation. Jokes, tho, have always worked to soften the mood and also to get the cute boys.
“Woah, hold on, love, we’ve gotta talk our boundaries before we jump into shit like watersports. We should start with somethin’ lighter, yeah?” Louis is already on his way to the sinks to wash himself, so he doesn’t see Harry react like a deer in headlights. He can’t believe the shit he’s saying to a kid he barely knows, but he can’t get himself to stop. “Anyway I figured you’d be more into crossdressing or summat, since you’re kinda girly and all?”
In the reflection of the mirror he sees a flash of movement and the next thing he sees is Harry bolting past him through the door.
Maybe jokes weren’t actually the best idea. Still, they weren’t that bad, right?
Weeks go by without much notice. At school he’s made some casual acquaintances to pass the time, but outside of it he mostly hangs with Zayn and Liam. Harry, though, manages to keep avoiding him with such success that it must be on purpose. He’s taken to calling him Hippie Harry in his mind, now that Louis has seen the multitude of colourful hemp bracelets that adorn both his arms and the headscarves he sometimes wears around his curls or neck.
Louis has also seen the reactions Harry gets in the halls, how each new daring piece gets torn apart by laughing teens and he realises now why maybe his jokes have struck a nerve. The feminine bit is what gets picked on the most, transformed into some sort of indication of Harry’s sexuality, so a flower in the hair earns a mocking exclamation of “Flower!”, a patterned headscarf earns a multitude of “Fairy!”’s and the patterned shirts, well, the insults don’t get any wittier.
What he doesn’t understand is why Harry won’t talk back if it bothers him that much, why he stands there and takes it, or walks with shoulders scrunched and eyes downcast all the way to class. Hell, he could even go talk to Ms. Watson and Louis wouldn’t think him a wimp. But there is some sense of defiance, even if small, in the way Harry keeps wearing pink day after day, that makes Louis’ heart tighten for the boy. After their lasts encounters, though, he figures there’s not much he can do to help, so he concentrates in not making it worse.
By November, Louis knows most of the school, classmates and teachers included, so he falls into the familiar habits he had tried to avoid this time around. Right now he’s late for History, but he just woke up from a nap and really can’t be arsed to get off the common room’s sofas where he’s laying down. He’s mustering forces to get up though, since there’s no point in going back to school to retake his A levels if he doesn’t actually go to class, when he hears Tom Parker’s annoying laugh. Someone should tell that prick he sounds like a deformed seagull.
Next thing he hears Max George’s smirking voice. “Styles, do you know you don’t have to dress like a girl to take it up your arse? You can just do it like a regular fellow, don’t have to make a show about it.”
Tom laughs again. “Maybe he wants to be a girl.”
Louis figures he must be hidden behind the sofas because he can’t believe this nasty scene would be happening otherwise. He raises himself up and catches sight of Harry cowered against the door being towered over by those arsewipes, just when the blond irish kid who’s always singing and playing the guitar arrives, and Max and George bugger off the room snickering.
“Harry.” The blond one is now rubbing his hands over Harry’s shoulders reassuringly. They don’t seem to have noticed Louis at all. “I don’t know, I still think you should stand up to them or something. They do it to you ‘cause they see you flinch and they know you won’t talk back.”
“I told you, Niall, the only thing that really bothers me is the reduction of the sexuality spectrum and the gross way they talk about it all. I don’t care what they say to me.” But his face is so strained by trying to maintain a semblance of composure that Louis’ chest stings. Niall too looks worried, like he wants to say something else, so Harry amends, “We should go to Bio.”
“Fine.” As they leave, Niall links their arms. Louis drops back down on the sofa and hopes Niall doesn’t let go.
Fifteen minutes later he’s still collapsed on the cushions, pondering and mentally beating himself up. Fuck, the things he said to Hippie Harry while trying to be cheeky or nosey. He shouldn’t even call him that anymore. He had of course heard the comments made about him and shouted to him in the halls, but he never imagined the kid was being actively bullied. Louis is late enough for History that he won’t feel bad skipping it in favour of a ciggie break and, fuck, does he need one, so he finally picks himself up and climbs out the window to the back of the building.
After two cigarettes he’s resolved the best course of action is to talk to Liam and Zayn, who will probably have more knowledge of the situation, before doing anything. That means he has to wait at least until lunch to assess the situation and organize some real plan. He has no idea what kind of plan that could be, but he’s not really worried anymore –this is what he’s good at. He climbs back inside since he needs a wee, though he has to be extra stealthy on the way to the toilets.
Louis is pulling his pants back up when he hears the toilet door bang and the sound of someone stumbling inside. While he unbuttons his jeans, small, broken sobs echo inside the stall he’s in, like the boy outside is trying to rein himself in. Louis rushes out, worried, only to find Hippie Harry sitting against the wall, tear streaked and gripping his forearms with his hands. He kneels down and takes Harry’s hand into his own.
“What’s wrong, love?” In the middle of asking he notices that where Harry’s hippie bracelets end is where a collection of thin white lines and angry red scabs begin tracing up his forearm. He releases the hands and pushes the bracelets down, finding more scars, and then separates them in the middle, finding more scares, and moves them up from Harry’s delicate wrists. More scars. The bracelets themselves have freckles of blood all over their colourful patterns or on their beads.
A wave of nausea hits him. He doesn’t know when Harry has stopped crying and started looking at him with fearful doe eyes. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“I’d never, love.” Louis launches himself forward to embrace Harry, overcome with the urge to care for him. “Never, never. But you have to talk to someone, you can’t hurt yourself like this.”
“I’m not.” The small voiced comes muffled from under him, and Louis notices he’s stroking Harry’s back soothingly. “It’s alright, I’ve stopped, I swear.”
“Harry, even if you stopped, something made you do it and you need to talk about it, yeah? I know Grimshaw acts snarky, but I know he can be really kind. Just promise you’ll talk to someone, please?” His hands go to Harry’s plump cheeks so that the boy’s tear streaked face is directed at his.
Harry sniffles, softening his form. “Promise.”
“Right, come here then.” Louis stands and the extends his hand, pulling Harry up and then pulling him into a hug. “You can’t talk to me if you need anything, alright? Just remember what you promised.” Several beats later he lets go, worrying about being overbearing, and finds in front of him a Harry he’s never seen, serene and even radiant, though Louis can see how he’s still restrained. He sees a boy who, if free to be himself, could end up holding the world captive. He’s already beginning to get a hold of Louis.
For a few seconds they stand there, in front of each other, sharing the delicate instant of rediscovery, and then Harry reels himself up. “Hm, thank you. I have to, eh, go to class.”
“Yeah, you should. I should too, actually.” Louis exhales a breathy, tetchy laugh.
“Bye.” Harry says, and Louis watches him go, having finally understood what drew him to the boy.
After leaving the bathroom, reality comes crashing down on Louis head like a bucket of icy water, the chill making him shiver and burning his bones. He knows he’s promised, yet he needs to talk to someone because he feels like he’s holding Harry’s sweet, delicate soul in the palm of his hands and it’s about to slip down and break against the floor. He finds Liam and Zayn back in the home room, talking to Jade and Perrie. They all look at him when he stops in front of the sofas and they must notice his grim, pained expression, because the girls stand up and leave, after each giving him a kiss and a firm hug.
Zayn tugs at his hand to get him to sit down while Liam gives him a sad puppy stare. “What’s wrong, babe?” Zayn asks, and they both must be petting him but Louis can’t feel a thing.
“I just saw sum’ awful shit and I don’t fuckin’ know what to do, I feel so guilty. I mean, I said some shitty stuff to him too, and I never defended him when those dickheads called ‘im names and such, now he’s cuttin’ and who knows what else–”
He’s making no sense and getting even more worked up, spitting out ten words per second while his accent is getting thicker, so he’s glad when Liam interrupts his rambling. “Lou, who’s cutting?”
“Hippie Harry is. Fuck, I shouldn’t call ‘im that, the poor thing.”
“How do you know?” Where Liam’s face and voice show maternal worry, Zayn’s are a building rage Louis’ never seen before.
“I saw his scars. That’s why he wears all those hemp bracelets, to hide them.”
“Okay. Did he say anything?”
“Yeah, asked me not to tell, but I couldn’t, fuck. I need help so I can help him. Right before the bathroom I saw Max and Tom ganging up on him, so first I should do something about that, right? What do we have on them?”
Liam furrows his eyebrows. “Well, they’re your typical bullies. They used to call Zayn “paki”, even though their friend Siva is of Sri Lankan descent. They don’t anymore though, because they only pick on those who don’t defend themselves.”
Zayn smirks. “Which means once Liam heard them, he threatened to bash their heads in. Jay is kind of a prick too, but he keeps it on the low down.”
“So, that’s it, then?” Louis is relieved. “If I stand up to them, they’ll leave Harry alone?”
Zayn’s smirk widens, as if he knows a secret, while Liam answers. “Yeah, that should work.”
Louis smirks back at them. “Good.”
Game on.
The next day, they are sitting down on their usual table in the lunchroom, him, Liam and Zayn, when Louis gets his chance. Two tables from them that prick Max starts taunting Harry again, this time without his usual partner. “What the fuck are you wearing? Fucking pansy.”
Louis stands up without even realizing. “Fuck off, Max. Leave Harry alone, yeah? He’s never done you any harm, he’s the nicest kid in the whole fuckin’ school.”
“What’s wrong, Tomlinson? Defending your boyfriend? Are you bent too?”
“Well, I don’t know about Harry here, but yeah. I love cock. Why? Are you interested?” While Max stands there dumbstruck, Louis gives him his biggest toothy smile and takes Harry by the hand, leading him to his table.
The first thing that comes out of Harry’s mouth when they sit is, “Are you really gay?” Zayn and Liam turn to look at them now. Harry’s big doe eyes are blown with curiosity and something warm that Louis can’t decipher.
“Yeah, actually, did nobody notice that?” Louis puts on his best scandalized face, hoping to get a smile out of Harry with theatricality. “I’m really flamboyant, I figured everyone knew already. Back in Donny, everybody just assumed.” Harry’s eyes are fixed at the table now.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have been so prejudiced. I’m the one who’s always going on about how people shouldn’t assume sexualities and gender roles and yet. It’s just that… you look too tough! I don’t think anyone knew.” Harry grimaces, as if he thinks Louis is actually bothered by all this, so Louis grins at him to get him relaxed.
“Well, that’s stupid. What about you then? Are you gay or just fucking with the gender roles and all that?” Harry smiles back at him sweetly.
“Actually, I think, eh, anyone can love anyone. We’re conditioned by society to define ourselves in a certain way, like, the system oppresses people by forcing sexual attraction in a limiting way.”
“Sorry, but that’s a load of bullshit.”
“What?” Harry squeaks.
“Look, Haz, you’re a sweet lad and that’s a sweet way of lookin’ at it, but that doesn’t work in real life. I don’t mean to be rude, you may be able to fall for blokes and girls all the same, not minding their gender and all, and that’s really lovely. But it doesn’t work that way for everyone, I mean, it’s not like that to me, I’m gay and I would never be able to fall in love with a girl. I love, ya know, cock. And actually, sayin’ that everyone should be able to fall in love with anyone it’s kinda oppressing.”
By the time Louis’ rant ends, Harry’s mouth is hanging open. Zayn and Liam have heard him when he gets on this rhetorical moods, enough times that they know to conveniently look the other way if he’s arguing a point with someone else. What they don’t know yet is that he would never be belligerent with Harry, not after all that happened. “Oh. I hadn’t, hm, thought of it like that. Sorry.”
“It’s alright, I mean, it’s not like you’re doing it on purpose or summat. You’re just so lovely that you gotta include everyone, aren’t you?” Harry’s cheeks begin to colour, but the shy smile isn’t lost, which eggs Louis on. “Besides, your curly hair must get all the ladies and the blokes, right?” He gets the urge to pinch Harry’s cheeks like a nosey granny would.
“Hm, eh, not quite.” He takes Harry’s grimace as an indicator that he wants to rectify this.
“Well, their loss.” He turns to the other boys. “You two can stop pretending not to listen now. Harry, have you meet Zayn and Liam?”
Zayn waves his hand shortly while Liam extends an eager hand. “Hi, Harry, nice to meet you.”
“Did you know these two here are a couple?” Louis grins mischievously and Harry grins back at him.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, and the most annoying one too. Lucky I’ve got you now to balance them out, right?” Harry lights up like the sun, consuming Louis with all his might.
A few minutes later, Niall joins them, complaining that their music teacher had held him to talk about giving some help on the school musical when he was starving, to which Harry jokingly responds that Niall always is. Louis gets the feeling that this is a recurrent inside joke, one that he wants to be part of.
They become a little ragtag family, the five of them, because despite the odds and differences they fit like a puzzle. Liam dotes and worries over them like a mum, Zayn is calm and listens to your troubles like a dad would and Niall radiates a cheerfulness that makes everyone smile by osmosis, like a carefree, cute younger brother generally does.
And Harry, well, he absorbs all their love like sunlight and blooms into the most beautiful flower, opening his petals to reveal enormous smiles and laughs that last hours. Slowly, he starts wearing what he wants and acting in a more delicate, feminine way, without fear of being mistreated, because by now the whole school knows he’s Louis’ boy and anyone who messes with him would be eviscerated.
Louis takes on himself to make all of them happy, united and comfortable with themselves. Being the older of four sisters made that his job for the longest time and now it is somehow the only thing that feels right. And if someone, like Zayn for example, were to say he dotes on Harry a little more, he wouldn’t deny it. Harry is too young to have been beaten down by society the way he was and deserves all the extra care he can get.
Which doesn’t mean Louis won’t argue with him about the issues they disagree on, especially the sexulity one that Harry is so passionate about. He learns that Harry speaks from personal experience in some topics, like family, kindness or friendship, and from pure idealism on others, like sex or love. In fact, one of their biggest recurrent discussions is Harry’s own sexuality and how he insists he can love anyone no matter the gender yet he does not seem to feel attraction to women. It goes something like this:
“But have you ever beaten it while picturing tits?” They’re in Zayn’s basement, Louis using the joint in his hand to gesture at Harry.
“That is not the same thing, Lou, it wouldn’t mean I can’t love a woman.” Even Harry, ever so gentle, can’t help exuding an exasperated air through his eyes. His voice is rougher from smoking, lulling Louis into a trance he desperately needs to avoid.
Zayn’s voice comes from somewhere around Louis’ side. “Louis, the joint is not a mic.”
“Yeah, well, unless you’re asexual, it does mean you can only feel attraction to one gender.” He passes the joint to Niall who is giggling at something Liam is trying to say.
“I think, hm, a big part of sexual attraction, if not all, is determined by the culture we grow up in. Look at porn and how it depicts woman, that image is determined by patriarchy and desire for it comes from growing up in a society that also put woman in that position.” Harry’s face is glowing, emanating a light that keeps Louis’ fixed like moth to a flame. Suddenly there’s been silence for too long, so Louis shakes his head to clear his thoughts.
“One thing is not like the other, Haz. Some parts of sexuality are cultural, like kinks, but some others are biological, like sexual attraction. I was born gay and if you think about cocks while jerking off, then you’re too.”
“Maybe. But you can’t know for sure what is biological and what isn’t, Lou. I told you, love is a choice, it’s a choice you make, everyday and again and again. Everything else is uncertain to me.”
And just like that, it comes to an end. No matter how sure Louis can be or how explicit he can try to be, there comes Harry with his loving words of love and gets Louis feeling floaty, hopeful, like he just might be the one to receive all that devotion. Luckily Niall’s laughter saves Louis from gazing at Harry for too long.
Nobody bullies Harry anymore, which means everything should be alright with the universe, yet everyday Louis’ chest gets tighter. On a particular Wednesday morning it seems about to burst, because Harry walks into school wearing a floral shirt, so ethereal that Louis feels his eyeballs get wet.
But he manages, barely, to keeps inside this not so newly developed feelings, much to Zayn and Liam’s despair. When he tells them Harry is too precious to hurt, it sounds as if he's trying to convince himself. Truth is, Louis is nothing more than a coward, terrified of losing what he already has. Zayn tells him that.
Liam, on the other hand, seems determined to show Louis that his affections are reciprocated. He smiles gently at Louis whenever he and Harry gaze at each other too long or automatically lean into each other, in a motherly way of saying “I told you so”. Louis does not find it cute though, because it fuels the fire that he has been trying to tame.
That same fated Wednesday, he catches Niall and Harry hushed whispers in the common room. It seems like a theme, spying on these two, but he can't help staying just behind the doorframe after hearing his name.
“I'm just saying, he loves kids, yeah? It’d help set the mood. Lux would definitely help you with it.”
“Lux is five, Ni, I wouldn't tell her about this. And I would have to watch her, which would only add to my nervousness.”
“But Louis would be there! He’s responsible when he wants to, plus he has four younger sisters. And don't lie, you babysit using your motherly instincts, you could do it with your eyes closed. It would be romantic, you two playing house.”
“Fine, I’ll ask him. It doesn't have to mean anything.”
Louis chooses that moment to push the door open loudly, anxious for the invitation, but even though Harry blushes and stutters the whole time in Louis’ presence, the invite only comes after school, when they're walking towards Liam’s car together.
“Hm, Lou, I'm babysitting Lux tomorrow night and, hm, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to with me? Not to help or anything, just to have fun? If you’d like that?” They're both blushing by now, Harry looking at his feet and Louis at Harry’s face.
“Yeah, yeah! I’d love that, definitely, love the plan. You know I love kids and I love you, I mean, being with you, I enjoy that.” That gets Harry to stop looking down and stare at him with his eyes wide open, which only encourages Louis to ramble more as a distraction method. “When do we have to be there? Do you want me to bring anything?”
“Actually, their house is near the school, so we could walk together from here? You don't have to bring anything, just yourself.
They get to the car where the other boys are already waiting for them, so Louis only has time for a quick “Yeah, let's do that.” before they get involved in another conversation. Louis’ smile, though, lasts the whole day.
The next day, they walk together to the Teasdale-Atkin house from school, arms brushing in a way that makes sparks fly. Lou answers the door and let's them in, asking Louis about school and his family, and tell your mother to come visit with the girls, and all the niceties. Tom shows up a while after with Lux in his arms, dressed fairly similar to Louis, which makes them all laugh.
Lou gives them the final instructions at the door, making Harry blush when she winks cheekily after saying they will be back home two hours after Lux’s bedtime and are allowed to do whatever they want in that time.
Lux is a doll, playful but well behaved, and Louis enjoys telling her embarrassing stories of Harry, always minding that Harry’s comfortable with them. But things get tenser and tenser as her bedtime gets nearer, with both of them sneaking obvious glances at each other until they finally put Lux to bed with an elaborate story about a princess called Luxie. A tired silence creeps between them while they tiptoe down the stairs and sit stiff on the sofa, looking everywhere but at each other, so heavy that Louis’ head starts going 100 km/h. He knows then that the only way to stop it is to take some action, but he can’t find the words to express his love without sounding too forward or just plain silly. A kiss, maybe, a kiss would get things going, would force him to speak.
He turns his head to do just that, but Harry must have thought the same because they bump their heads together hard, bursting into laughter while holding their foreheads.
“Fuck, Hazza, it seems like a theme with us, bumping into each other.”
“Yeah.” Harry’s eyes are shining with mirth in a way that makes Louis’s heart contract and expand. He grabs Harry’s hand and moves closer, crowding Harry’s space until they’re breathing the same air, until Harry’s lips are in contact with his own, pressing softly at first. But Harry releases his hand and puts his arms around Louis’ neck, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.
They stay intertwined, kissing hotly, vibrating out of their skin, stopping only when even kissing becomes too much and leaves them intoxicated, and Louis can’t help but say it then, dazed.
“Love you, Haz, so much.”
Lou and Tom find them an hour lately, kissing and giggling into each other faces, and congratulate them.
And the next day, when they walk into school holding hands, Louis’ mind is clear for the first time.