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Niall Horan has a secret. Not a bad one, but not a good one, but one he’s certainly not excited to tell Harry about.
Harry Styles has just finished his last semester of college, a year late because it took him far too long to choose a major, and is ready to see his old friends. Liam, his and Niall’s best friend from high school (Harry and Niall have been friends since the playground), is throwing a party in his house while his parents are on a weekend getaway.
“This is so fucking high school,” Harry jokingly complains as he and Niall drink 40’s in the parking lot of the closed down grocery store around the corner from Niall’s house. For someone so well mannered and adored by teachers and parents throughout their teen years, Liam has thrown a house party or two in his time.
“It really is, isn’t it?” Niall laughs, remembering all the times he and Harry did the exact thing before heading to someone’s house party, except it wasn’t legal then. Technically, they’re all old enough to head to a bar or a club now and put the house parties in the past. But, despite the joking and the fake complaining, they’re both excited to reclaim a bit of their pasts and catch up with old friends, without the added noise and stress of picking up a girl or boy that comes with a bar or club.
In a weird way, it’s reassuring to revisit high school. Harry doesn’t have a single friend who’s moved out of their parents’ houses or gotten married. All of the things they thought would happen by 22 or 23 have been detoured by student loans, travel plans and unexpected hiccups along the way.
“All we need is some All Time Low or Blink and we’re all set,” Harry adds, reminiscing about the countless hours he and Niall would listen to crappy pop-punk and mess around on their guitars, wanting to be the next Tom and Mark without the bitterness.
“Let’s see what we can do,” Niall says, punching on the radio and flicking through stations.
“Yes!” He cries when “Gives You Hell” comes on. “It’s your fucking jam, H!”
Oh God. To say Harry was obsessed with this song when it came out would be an understatement. It was his ringtone, his Myspace song and his breakup anthem once he and he-who-should-not-be-named ended it for good, after Harry had his heart stomped on one too many times.
“Yo, fuck Louis!” Harry yells over the music. So much for not naming names, then. “At least that’ll be one thing that’s changed about Liam’s parties!”
Harry spent most of high school hopelessly in love with Louis after meeting him in gym class Harry’s sophomore year. They bonded over their dislike for gym class and most of the others in class with them. As athletic as Louis was, he was also lazy and troublesome by nature, and once skipped the entire hockey unit by convincing other students to take his place every time. He told Harry, with a wink and a sly grin, that as long as there was the proper number of students playing at all times, clueless Mr. J would never noticed he didn’t play. And he was right. Harry should have known right then and there.
“Good on you, mate!” Niall yells, lifting his 40 in camaraderie, which accidentally spills down the front of Harry’s white V-neck.
“Niall, you asshole!” Harry laughs, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid beer stinging his retinas. “I can’t wear this now, it reeks of beer!”
“Oh shit,” Niall says, looking at the large, urine-colored splotch on Harry’s chest and stomach. “Ok, we’ll just head back to my house real quick, grab you a shirt, and we’ll go. It’s almost time to head to Liam’s anyway.”
Back in Niall’s house, Niall uses the bathroom while Harry rummages through his t-shirts. Niall dresses a little too preppy for him some days, but he does have some good stuff. Like the black Guns N’ Roses tour shirt that Harry unearths from somewhere in his sock drawer.
Like drinking in parking lots and listening to pop-alternative music from 2009, Niall’s bedroom is something else that hasn’t changed. His dark blue walls are still plastered with posters of soccer players and classic horror movies. He still has his weird Obama statue from 2008 and thick history books are stacked up all over the place.
“Hey H, you ready to-“ Niall begins when he enters his bedroom, but stops short when he sees what Harry’s wearing.
“Is something wrong?” Harry asks, cocking one eyebrow at Niall while studying himself in the mirror. He’s yet to see the back of the shirt, which reads Get in the Ring, Motherfucker. That tour name is more appropriate than Harry knows.
Niall pauses, thinks better of it, then shakes his head. “Nah, let’s go.” He and Harry clamber back in his 2005 Jeep, which now smells of beer, turn the radio back on and go.
After a short drive to Liam’s, Harry heads to the door when Niall grabs his arm.
“What do you want, Niall?” Harry sighs, ready to get inside and find something better to drink.
“I, um…I have something to tell you,” Niall mutters.
“Well?” Harry asks, hands on his hips in a gesture remarkably similar to those of his ex-boyfriend.
“Don’t be mad, okay?” Niall asks, awkwardly jamming his hands into his jean pockets.
“Niall, I won’t be mad, but what the fuck is it?” Harry asks, running a hand through his tangled curls.
“So…funny story,” Niall begins. “Louis actually is going to be at this party.”
“He what?” Harry spits, anger flashing in his eyes.
“That’s not all,” Niall adds, ready to just rip the band-aid off.
Harry crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows again, anger apparent on his face. “What else, Niall?” He asks, already sounding tired.
“And you’re wearing his shirt,” Niall blurts out.
Niall Horan no longer has a secret.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Louis Tomlinson has a secret. He’s known Harry was going to be at this party since Liam invited them both a week ago.
“No,” Louis’ best friend, Perrie, had said when Louis asked her to go.
“Come on, Perrie,” Louis had whined, tugging slightly on one of her blonde curls. “Why not?”
“Because we both know Harry’s going to be there now that he’s home from school, and I’m not revisiting senior year of high school all over again,” she said. “Once was bad enough.”
“You loved high school, you little superstar,” Louis scoffed. Perrie had been queen bee of their senior class, not only beautiful but kind, funny and talented as hell. She had just the right amount of confidence to be totally weird and get away with it. Additionally, she was involved in everything, from choir to dance team to theater. She even played the Sandy to Louis’ Danny in their senior year production of Grease. It was the one and only kiss they ever shared.
“Louis, be real for a second,” she reprimanded, fixing him with her cold, blue stare. “You broke his heart back then and hung him out to dry. Why can’t you leave the poor kid alone?”
“It was literally five years ago, Pez,” Louis argued. “We’re both grown adults now and the past is in the past. I just want to go hang out again, like old times, you know? Life was so much simpler then.”
Perrie had studied him for a minute, lips pursed and legs crossed under the table they were sharing at Triple String, the only local coffee shop that wasn’t a Starbucks or a Dunkin. She picked up her iced coffee and took a long pull, staining the straw with her bright red lipstick.
“Fine,” she agreed, a petulant look on her face. “But only because I still think Jade and Liam would be a great couple and it’s a shame they never got together.”
“I love you, babe,” Louis cheered, pretending to swoon. “Let’s make a pact that if we’re both not married in ten years, we’ll choose each other.”
Perrie snorted, kicking Louis lightly under the table. “Not a chance, Louis Tomlinson. You smoke too much weed and have made it very clear that you prefer a penis.”
Louis choked on his tea, as he always does whenever sweet, small Perrie makes a dirty remark.
“Our kids would be gorgeous, though,” She had sighed, laughing devilishly when Louis choked so hard his tea went flying across the table.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Liam Payne has a secret. He knew Harry was coming to his party, but he invited Louis anyway. He personally hopes they’re all adult enough that they can get it together and have a fun time together, leaving what happened five years ago in the past. But it doesn’t seem likely when Harry storms into his house, a thunderous look on his face.
“Liam, what the fuck?” He roars when he sees his old friend, a guilty expression in his puppy dog eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liam feigns innocence, reaching out to give Harry a hug. “How are you, mate? I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“Shut up, Liam,” Harry mutters. “I know you know exactly what I’m talking about and again, what the fuck?”
"It was five years ago, Harry!” Liam explains, holding his palms up in a silent plea. “I was kind of hoping that you’d be over whatever happened back then, especially since I don’t even know what it was.”
That’s the problem, Harry thinks. People always expect you to get over things, even when they crush you to dust and leave your soul red and raw. They especially expect you to get over things when they happened as a teenager, and even more so when they don’t even know the details. Harry only ever told Niall, and even that was a censored version spilled over a bottle of Captain Morgan and a Domino’s pizza.
“I guess that’s fair,” Harry murmurs, bottom lip sticking out like a kid who was sent to time out.
“I’m sorry, Harry, I really am, but we’re all adults now,” Liam adds on. “We’ve got jobs and bills and responsibilities, and to be honest, we’re different now then we were then. And you obviously don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but since we won’t all be together again for who knows how long, I really hope you will.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll stay,” Harry mumbles. “Sorry for being a brat.”
“Don’t be sorry, man,” Liam tells him. “Just grab yourself a drink.”
“C’mon Haz, let’s see what Liam’s got in his kitchen,” Niall jumps in, grabbing Harry’s elbow and steering him towards the kitchen island, which they know will be stocked with liquors and snacks.
As they enter the kitchen, Harry spots a girl with a perky blonde ponytail perched on the island, right next to the bottle of Jack that Harry had his eye on. Fuck.
“Harry!” Perrie cries as he heads toward the makeshift bar, hopping off the counter to wrap him a hug. “It’s been too long, babe! How are ya?”
“I’m good, and yourself?” Harry asks politely but flatly, hoping to extricate himself as quickly as possible. He knows from experience that wherever Perrie is, Louis is likely to follow.
Unfortunately, Perrie’s always been a talker, and she’s gobbling on as Harry’s eyes skirt the room, hoping he can prevent seeing Louis for as long as possible. Niall would run interference, but he’s been sucked into conversation with Eleanor, another familiar, high school face. She looks mostly the same, but her hair is lighter and her eye makeup is heavier. Niall had had a crush on Eleanor for years, and even worked up the nerve to ask her to prom, but she had already accepted an invitation from her friend Max.
“So now I have a YouTube channel and I teach dance classes, which is great because Lou teaches too!” Perrie babbles, which snaps Harry’s attention back like a rubber band.
"Wow, you guys…you both teach together?” Harry asks, avoiding Louis’ name like the plague.
“Well, not at the same school or anything. I work at the dance school on Center Street and Louis works at the high school. Lottie and Fizzy absolutely hate it,” She laughs.
Holy hell, Harry hasn’t heard Louis’ sisters’ names in years. Last he saw Lottie and Fizzy, they were young, awkward teens preteens with acne and braces. Now they’re in high school and being absolutely tortured by their older brother, he’s sure of it.
“Excuse me, Perrie, I need to use the restroom,” Harry says, excusing himself from any further blows to his memory. He loves the restroom excuse, if he’s being honest. He’s social by nature, but sometimes he needs a break, and no one ever asks questions after you mention the bathroom.
He’s heading upstairs to where he knows Liam’s bathroom is when he smacks right into someone coming down.
“Oops,” Harry mumbles.
“Hi,” He hears an amused, high-pitched voice trill. And fuck. No.
“Louis,” He says with a curt nod, skirting past him up the stairs.
“Nice shirt, Harold,” Louis calls up behind him.
He’s going to kill Niall.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Perrie Edwards has a secret. She’s been friends with Louis for nearly twenty years, since they met in preschool and bonded over the hats in the dress up box and a subsequent case of lice that drove both their mothers crazy. She knows Louis down to his core and vice versa. And she knows that, much as he try, he never really got over Harry Styles.
Louis acted tough, of course he did, but she knew he was really hurt by their break-up, even if he was the one who enacted it. He dated afterwards, through college, but no one ever stuck and she doesn’t think he wanted them to.
Perrie’s talking to Leigh-Anne in Liam’s den when Louis walks up behind her and slings an arm around her shoulder, burying his head in her hair. Perrie reaches up and pets his scalp gently as she continues her conversation, noticing Harry’s fixated gaze from across the room, where he’s talking to Liam’s friend Jordan. They’re all sufficiently buzzed and music is playing gently in the background, a far cry from the blasting hip-hop that marked Liam’s high school parties. She used to come early to those and watch Harry, Louis, Niall and Liam hang towels and sheets across the curtain rods, hoping to block nosy neighbors from looking inside and loud music from sneaking out.
“Harry!” Leigh-Anne cries when she turns around to follow Perrie’s eyes. “Come over here, you scarecrow, I haven’t seen you in forever!”
Harry hesitates but Perrie can see his kindness win out, and heads over to where their little trio is standing.
“Hey Leigh, how are you?” He asks, giving her a quick hug.
“I haven’t seen you since junior year!” Leigh-Anne cries, squeezing his arm. “You’ve shot up like a beanstalk since then!”
“Growth spurts will do that to you,” Harry smiles wryly, pulling at the hem of his shirt.
“So will those heeled boots you’re wearing,” Louis chimes in, lifting his head and smirking at Harry, looking him over from his boots to his head of floppy curls.
“Ladies, it’s been a pleasure,” Harry says, shooting them both a tight smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
Perrie turns to Louis, knowing he meant his comment as a friendly joke, but he turns away before she can say anything.
“I need a drink,” he mutters, stomping into the kitchen.
Hours later, after dancing with Eleanor and their old friend Jesy, shoving Jade into Liam and running away, and downing four vodka cranberry’s, Perrie heads into the kitchen on the prowl for a bag of chips. She stops when she sees Louis approaching Harry, who is fixing himself a drink with his back turned to where Louis is coming from.
“Hey, Harry, can we talk?” Louis asks, devoid of his trademark charm and cockiness, simply stripped bare in front of him.
Harry turns, looks Louis up and down, and replies, “I’m not drunk enough for that.” He begins to walk away, then stops and turns around. “And stop smirking at me like that, you prick!”
Harry shoves past Perrie without even noticing her. Louis whips open the back door and heads to Liam’s steps that lead into his backyard. Perrie waits a few seconds before following him, heart breaking when she hears the soft sniffles in the quiet, 3 a.m. sky.
“You alright, Lou?” She asks, squeezing beside him on the steps.
He sniffles again in response and she rests her hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles as he cries quietly.
“It’s just…,” Louis stops and sniffs again, taking a deep breath for he continues. “It’s just that I knew he didn’t like me but I didn’t think he’d be so…so cold!”
“Harry’s never cold,” he adds quietly, words hitching at the end. “Even when we slept in his bed he was like a human furnace.”
“Oh, Lou,” Perrie hums, rummaging in her purse for a pack of Kleenex.
“It’s just fucked up, you know?” Louis says, accepting the tissue she holds out and loudly blowing his nose. “He’s wearing my shirt tonight. He told me he wasn’t ‘drunk enough for me,’” he adds air quotes for emphasis, “and he’s wearing my fucking shirt!”
He laughs sardonically, then blows his nose again. “How fucking ironic is that?”
“I’m sure he didn’t-“Perrie begins, then stops herself. She’s sure he didn’t what? She knows Harry meant every word he said, and she also knows that whether he knew it was Louis’ shirt or not, it doesn’t change anything.
“Do you want to go home?” She asks instead, gently taking Louis’ disgusting, wet tissue and dropping it into the trash can next to the steps.
“Can we get Taco Bell?” Louis asks sadly as she hauls him up.
“Whatever you want, babe,” She promises as she fishes her car keys out of her purse. “Whatever you want.”
The next morning, Louis is standing in the line at Triple Strings, wearing a hoodie and a pair of red flannel pajama pants with absolutely no fucks given. He’s hungover, his stomach feels like shit, and Perrie’s house didn’t have any tea. She’d shoved him out of her bed with a ten and a threat to chop off multiple body parts unless he came back with a large iced mocha and a bagel.
He places Perrie’s order as well as a tea for himself, black with milk but no sugar, and settles into an armchair with his phone to wait.
“Large iced mocha!” The barista, Kevin, shouts out, jarring Louis out of his Twitter coma. Kevin knows Louis and Perrie well, as they regularly meet up in the shop. Louis likes to grade his papers there when he can. He grabs the coffee off the counter, but another hand wraps around it before he can take it.
“Oh, fucking hell,” he mutters at the same time Harry says “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“This is my drink,” Harry says, wrapping his large hand more firmly around the cup. He’s still wearing the shirt, Louis notes with malice.
“No, this is mine,” Louis growls, squeezing the cup as tight as he dares.
“It’s mine!” Harry snarls, pulling it towards him. “You don’t even drink coffee!”
“How would you know?” Louis retorts, dragging the cup back his way. “A lot changes in five years, Harry!”
“Hey, Louis, your tea’s ready,” Kevin announces, plunking the tea next to the iced coffee. “Your coffee will be out in a minute, sir,” He says to Harry, looking confused at the way their hands are clutching Perrie’s iced mocha.
“Told you,” Louis mutters, angry that Harry was right and he still doesn’t drink coffee, even after five years.
“Whatever,” Harry snaps, shoving the cup towards Louis. “Don’t burn your tongue on your tea, Louis,” he says with saccharine sarcasm as he walks to the other side of the room.
“I’m too hungover for this,” Louis mumbles, grabbing both drinks and shoving napkins and straws in his pajama pants pocket. The irony of that statement is not lost on him.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Niall Horan has a secret, and he’s about to burst with it. Harry’s sitting at the deli counter where Niall works, halfheartedly flicking a mayonnaise packet while Niall wipes down the counter after the lunchtime rush.
The deli is a tiny store with checkerboard floors and a baseball theme. There’s pictures of Babe Ruth in frames, banners for multiple baseball teams and a movie poster for The Sandlot. The back wall holds a large mirror with “You’re killing me, Smalls!” engraved on the bottom. Although Niall studied history and wants a permanent, full time job, Harry can’t really picture him working somewhere more fitting. Plus, Niall gets all the free sandwiches he wants.
“So guess who texted me today?” Niall asks, brandishing his phone like it’s a treasured possession and not a cracked, outdated iPhone.
“I dunno, maybe Eleanor?” Harry cracks, lightly bending the edges of the mayo packet.
“Aw, how’d you know?” Niall whines.
“Maybe because she texted you last night, and two nights before that,” Harry deadpans.
“Yeah, but she actually asked me out this time,” Niall says proudly, puffing his chest like a lion.
“Wait, what?” Harry asks, accidentally tearing into the seam.
“Mate, you spill mayo everywhere and I’ll never slip you a free pickle again,” Niall warns.
“Ew, don’t every say you slip me pickles,” Harry says, turning his nose up at his friend.
“Don’t be so…immature,” Niall retorts.
“Immature? You can’t be serious,” Harry replies, shooting Niall a glare.
“Actually, I kind of am,” Niall says. “Ever since Liam’s party, it’s like you’ve become a moody teenager again. It’s kind of freaky, actually.”
“I have not!” Harry argues, running a hand through his greasy hair. It’s a nervous habit.
“Really?” Niall asks. “Because a few days ago you called Louis a butthead.
“He is,” Harry scoffs. But deep down, he sees Niall’s point, even if he won’t admit it. “So where did Eleanor ask you to?” He asks, clearly and pointedly changing the subject.
“It’s more of a group thing, actually,” Niall says. “Perrie’s performing at some bar and she wants me to come. You too, actually, and Liam.”
“No, absolutely not,” Harry says without hesitation.
“C’mon Harry, I need you there!” Niall pleads. “You’re my wingman!”
“You don’t need a wingman once you actually have the date, Niall,” Harry sighs. “And I’m not going.”
“Don’t you like Perrie?” Niall asks.
“Of course I like Perrie, what’s that got to do with anything?” Harry asks.
“I just think it’s a bit rude you won’t support her, then,” Niall sniffs. “She’d certainly do it for you.”
“She wouldn’t bring Louis with her to support me though, would she?” Harry points out.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry, it’s time to move on!” Niall cries. Harry hates when people mention moving on. Niall knows that.
“Ok, maybe not move on, but move past,” Niall softens, carefully choosing his words. “It’s not like you didn’t get him pretty good last weekend, anyway.”
“I didn’t do anything to him,” Harry argues.
“Really?” Niall asks again. “Because, from where I was standing, it seemed a lot like you told him you weren’t drunk enough to speak to him and then added he should burn himself on his tea.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have you told you that,” Harry mumbles.
“Well, you did,” Niall points out. “And you know I’m right.”
“You’re never right,” Harry retorts.
“You once said Perrie was ‘a pixie with a powerhouse voice,’” Niall adds. “I’m right when I say you should come support her.”
“Fine,” Harry caves, as he knew he would. He always was soft. “But I’m wearing my own shirt this time.”
“Fair enough,” is Niall’s answer.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Louis Tomlinson has a secret. He’s so proud of his best friend and excited to watch her sing, but also terrified that one day she’ll make it and be gone. He goes to every bar performance, karaoke night, open mic event and audition that she has, but there’s a little niggling thought in the back of his head that wishes she’ll stay right where she’s been.
He’s at the bar, getting both of them waters (they’ll celebrate with drinks when Perrie’s performance is finished) when an achingly familiar deep voice orders a “vodka and club soda with lime, please.”
No. Tonight, Louis was supposed to cheer for his best friend, have a few shots, and then beg Lottie to pick him up. He wasn’t supposed to see Harry, looking really good in a flowing white button-down and black skinny jeans so tight that Louis can see…well, everything, if he’s being honest.
“Why are you here?” Louis blurts out. “I mean-no actually, I mean that. Why are you here?”
“Why are you?” Harry retorts, brazen in his disdain.
“Because Perrie’s my best friend and I always come to her shows,” Louis says.
“Yeah, well I was invited to watch her,” Harry says. “And I figured I’d give her a shot.”
“Don’t say you’ll give her a shot like you’re the judge and jury,” Louis snipes. “You already know she has enough talent to fill the world’s biggest arena.”
“Don’t be so literal,” Harry sighs. “Besides, aren’t you a teacher now, Mr. Tomlinson? Shouldn’t you be home, babysitting and grading papers?” He asks with judgment dripping from every word.
“Look, pal, if you ever mention my siblings with that tone again, I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth out,” Louis threatens. “And it’s summer, genius. School’s out for summer, remember?” He mocks, eyes flicking to Harry’s Pink Floyd tattoo.
“I guess it’s good you care about some people,” Harry tosses out, purposely going below the belt. “I guess you’re not just like your dad.”
Louis’ eyes widen with shock and hurt before they narrow, steel and ice pinning Harry to where he stands. “Fuck you, Harry,” He says quietly, tiredly, before grabbing the waters and heading over to the side of the stage, where Perrie’s waiting on the balls of her feet, like a bird about to take flight.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Liam Payne has a secret. After Harry and Louis broke up, right before Louis left for college and Harry started senior year, Liam vowed to stay neutral. He was in Harry’s year but played soccer with Louis and was in choir with Perrie, so he felt equally tied to each of them. But right now, he kind of wants to kick Harry in the shins.
“What were you thinking, Harry?” He sighs as he, Harry and Niall play Fifa in Niall’s basement.
“How could I what?” He asks. “Shit,” he groans as his kick misses Niall’s goal.
“How could you tell Louis that he’s like his dad? That’s so low, and you know it,” Liam says.
“You what?” Niall screeches, standing so suddenly that he rips his controller out of the console. “Harry, that’s fucked up.”
Harry shrinks into the couch, suddenly feeling very small under the combined gaze of Liam and Niall.
“Well, what he did was fucked up too,” He says meekly, already knowing that won’t go over well.
“What he did was five years ago, you dolt!” Liam yells. “You were both stupid teenagers. Not grown adults!”
“And that was really low to say, Harry,” Niall adds, sounding more disappointed than anything. “I’ve never known you to be so spiteful, or cruel.”
“I-“ Harry starts to protest, but Liam cuts him off again.
“Nuh-uh, Harry, if you want to explain anything then you have to tell the whole story, from the beginning,” He demands. “I’m not putting up with this shit for the next five years. I’ll be gray before I’m thirty.”
“Fine,” Harry says. “I’ll tell you from the beginning. Just sit down, you two look like my parents right now.”
They sit and Harry spills.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Harry Styles has a secret. One he’s never told anyone before tonight, not completely. The secret of how he got his heart broken.
“So I met Louis in gym class when I was a sophomore and he was a junior,” Harry starts. “He was really cool, you know? We liked the same music and he was like, the only other boy who didn’t take gym class way too seriously. He was actually nice to the girls who were afraid of the balls and always picked kids who would’ve been picked last if we had to do schoolyard teams.”
“We already know this,” Liam says.
“Well you said from the beginning, Liam, and if you don’t like it then you can leave the basement,” Harry snips, and Liam shuts up.
“So we started talking every day, and I developed this huge crush on him,” Harry continues. “He was so cute and nice and I was hopeless, basically. The day he asked for my phone number I thought I was going to implode.”
Harry can still remember running up to Niall after school that day, his phone held high in the air like Judd Nelson in the Breakfast Club. He was so proud of himself that day, he couldn’t believe it had happened.
“So his friend Zayn was having this video game tournament,” Harry says. “And Louis asked me if I wanted to be his partner. Of course I said yes, but I had never actually played the game before.”
“What game was it?” Niall interjects.
“It was Super Smash Bros. Niall, and if you don’t stop interrupting I’m going to smack you with a pillow,” Harry warns.
“And he said that was fine,” Harry goes on. “He invited me to his house to practice one day after school. I said ok, and he drove me to his house, which was so cool. I was only ever in the car with parents or my sister before,” He added.
“And we practiced the game for a bit. He would show me how to play and his sisters would run in begging to take turns or bringing us brownies and cookies. And he would let them all take turns until his mom came and herded them away to do homework, letting us have some time to ourselves.
“So we played for about an hour, until I was good enough that I actually beat him in a round,” Harry explains. “And he was so happy that he just leaned over and planted one on me.
“A proper romantic,” Niall snorts, and Harry shoots him a glare.
“It was my first kiss and the best day of my life,” He says. “And then his mom invited me for dinner, and he hooked his ankle around mine under the table. I blushed through that entire dinner.
“And then he drove me home, and he looked so shy when he parked the car that I just leaned over, pecked him on the cheek and ran into the house,” Harry tells them. When he had burst in the door, his sister Gemma stared at him while he stared out the window, watching Louis sit for a minute before driving away.
“Who was that?” She had asked, giving Harry a knowing grin.
“No one,” he answered, running upstairs to his room.
“No one is an older boy,” Gemma yelled, running after him. “No one has his own car!”
“Shut up, Gem!” Harry had yelled, slamming the door behind him.
That weekend had been Zayn’s game tournament. Louis and Harry crushed the other teams, and when they had switched to a movie instead, Louis held his palm up for Harry to high-five. When Harry’s hand met his, Louis laced their fingers together and pulled their hands down, resting the locked fingers between them on the couch. It had been the most exciting and nerve-wracking moment of Harry’s life.
“So we started dating,” Harry tells Liam and Niall, who already know this part. “ We were together for the rest of sophomore year and all of junior year.
“He was like, everything, you know? I was so fucking in love with everything about him. I would write cheesy little songs on my guitar for him and he would write me cute notes that he rolled up into tiny slits of paper that would wedge in my textbooks. I knew all of his sisters and was there when his mom told them she was having the twins.”
Harry blushes a bit at this part and lets out a tiny cough before adding, “And he was, like…my first time, you know? He kind of taught me everything about sex.” Sex, as well as alcohol and drugs. Louis was the first person Harry drank with, the first person he ever smoked a cigarette or weed with, and the only person he would ever sneak out with or lie to his parents about.
“Still not seeing the problem,” Liam comments, which earns him a flick on the head from Niall, who knows more of the story.
“And I was just so infatuated,” Harry says. “So I joined the soccer team to hang out with him more and was on the stage crew for the plays. I thought we were great, and then right after his graduation, he dumped me.
“He, um…he told me that he was going to college and he didn’t want to take any baggage with him. When I said that I wasn’t just baggage,” Harry says, and squeezes his eyes shut with the memory, “He said, ‘Well, it’s not like we were going to get married or anything.’
“But that was just it!” Harry yells. “I thought we were going to get married. I thought we were going to get married and have kids and be high school sweethearts! And then he just ditched me. He even had a box of my stuff there with him, so he didn’t have to see me again.”
“Oh,” Liam says.
“Yeah,” Harry sniffs. “He handed me the box and left. He didn’t say goodbye or anything. And I called and texted him the rest of the summer and he didn’t answer me, not once.”
“Douche,” Niall whispers in solidarity.
“And then I didn’t see him again until your party, Liam. Thanks for the warning, by the way,” Harry accompanies his sarcasm with a glare that he directs towards both Liam and Niall, who look properly shamed.
“I fucked up,” Niall admits. “I should’ve told you about the shirt.”
“You should have told him about the shirt,” Liam seconds.
“You should have told me about the shirt,” Harry sighs, sinking back into the couch and rubbing his temples.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Niall Horan has a secret, one he’s never planning to tell Harry about. He always stuck with Harry after the breakup, even though he was friends with Louis by then too. He even missed Louis after they broke up, but he never told Harry about that.
Now, though? Now he’s furious. He’s sitting in his car outside Louis’ house, dialing the number he had from high school and hoping it rings.
“Hullo?” Louis mumbles. Huh. Maybe Niall should’ve checked the time before doing this.
“Louis, what the fuck?” Niall asks without prelude.
“Niall? What are you talking about?” Louis asks, his voice still raspy.
A light flicks on in one of the upstairs windows while Niall talks. “How could you do that to Harry, Louis? That was really screwed up for you to dump him like that, and if I had known then I wouldn’t have yelled at him for saying you were like your dad the other night!” He accidentally slams on the gas pedal in anger, and his parked car revs loudly.
“Niall are you…outside my house?” Louis asks.
Niall sighs. “Yeah, I’m here. I was just with Harry and he told me everything so when I left I came here.”
“Hang on,” Louis sighs. “I’m coming out.”
Louis walks outside in a pair of boxers and a hoodie, his feet bare. He carefully shuts the front door and locks it behind him before getting into Niall’s car.
“For the record,” Louis begins, “I think this could’ve waited until the daylight hours.”
“I can come back at six if you want,” Niall says. “My shift starts at 7.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Louis says.
“Well, so are you,” Niall retorts with a huff. “I was actually starting to feel bad for you until Harry told me how you just left him for dead.”
“I didn’t leave him for dead, Niall, don’t be so dramatic,” Louis says, exasperated. “I do not miss high school at all,” He adds quietly.
“Look, what exactly did Harry tell you?” Louis asks. Niall tells him the whole story and Louis sighs again.
“He didn’t lie, Niall, I did do that,” Louis says. “But do you realize what he said? He joined the soccer team to be with me, even though he’s terribly uncoordinated. He joined stage crew but would pout when I spent time with Perrie instead of him.
“Yeah, I loved him. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone,” Louis says, not even noticing his little slip-up. “But he was suffocating me and he needed to have his own life. So did I. My whole life was always little kids and Disney movies and helping my mom make lunches. And then it became Harry, and all of a sudden it was like I had no semblance of myself anymore. All I was belonged to other people.”
“Then why didn’t you tell him that?” Niall asks, less harsh than before.
“Because Niall, I was fucking eighteen years old,” Louis says. “If I could go back in time then yeah, I would do it differently, but I can’t and I don’t regret what I did. How I did it, yeah, but I had to get out and I didn’t know how to handle it back then.”
“That makes sense,” Niall agrees. “But it really destroyed Harry, and you need to realize that.”
“I do, and I’m sorry,” Louis replies. “Which is what I would’ve told him at Liam’s party. Fuck, I had to beg Perrie to come with me and the only reason I wanted to go was to see Harry."
Niall hums but doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t stop Louis when he yawns and goes to leave the car. But he stops himself before he does.
“Not for nothing, Niall, but I was eighteen when I did that and I know I fucked up. I wouldn’t do it again. But Harry is twenty-two and is acting the same as I did, making cruel little remarks and acting like I meant nothing, So I’m not going to be the bad guy here. Not by myself, anyway.”
With that, he leaves the car, slams the door behind him, and stumbles back into the house. He’s given Niall a lot to consider.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Harry Styles has a secret. He feels maybe, slightly, possibly, just the tiniest bit guilty about how he talked to Louis the other night. He should have never made jokes about him babysitting his sisters, or even made reference to his father. Louis always was sensitive about his dad walking out when he was just days old, and Harry really can’t blame him for that.
When he sees a slight, fidgety figure with his hood up in the line at the Walgreens pharmacy, he takes a deep breath and figures he should try to be cordial.
“Hi,” Harry says behind him.
“Fucking hell,” Louis mutters. “Hello, Harry,” He says as he turns around. “I’ve had a rough day so please just…do not mess with me right now,” he ends with a defeated sigh.
“I,” Harry starts, intending to argue, and then pauses. “Why have you had a rough day?” He asks instead.
Louis scrubs his stubbled face with his hand as the woman at the counter argues with the pharmacist over the proper price for a stick of deodorant that she threw on top of her prescriptions.
“Didn’t sleep very well,” He answers. “And then Daisy and Phoebe both woke up with high fevers and stomach aches. The doctor said they have the flu, but since Doris and Ernest haven’t had their flu shots my mom is trying to keep them separate in our house. So the girls took it upon themselves to rest in my room, and threw up on my bed.”
Harry winces, and Louis sighs again. “I can’t sleep in my room because it’s smelly and gross, I can’t sleep in their room because I don’t want to get sick, and the couch has a broken spring that is really, really uncomfortable. So I’m either on the floor or throwing myself on the mercy of Liam, because Perrie’s at some bachelorette weekend thing.”
“Liam went to his family’s lake house,” Harry tells him with pity lacing his words.
“Shit,” Louis murmurs. “Well, the floor it is then. Just as well, my laptop just died and it had all my lesson plans on there so I might as well stay up late trying to fix it."
“Um,” Harry coughs into his fist awkwardly, fidgeting on his feet. “You can always stay at mine if you want. Gem’s room is clean and empty, so there’s a spare bed if you want.”
Louis narrows his eyes and fixes Harry with a glare. “I think I’ll take the floor, but thanks for the offer,” He replies with a roll of his eyes.
“I meant it,” Harry insists. “Seriously. I’m not going to be mean to you or anything. I actually…” He stops and stares at the floor, feeling like a little kid confessing he broke something. “I’m sorry for what I said the other night,” He offers. “I was out of line, and I’m sorry.”
Louis stares at him for a second. Then he gives Harry a stiff nod and a small smile. “Thank you.”
“Next in line!” The pharmacist calls, startling Louis who hurries over to the counter, annoying deodorant woman finally satisfied.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Louis Tomlinson has a secret. It’s 2 a.m., the floor is too uncomfortable even with his sleeping bag and blankets, and his laptop just will not work. It’s karma for not backing up his lesson plans, he supposes. He’s been tossing and turning for the last twenty minutes, after seeing that Harry just tweeted and is still awake (he never unfollowed him after they broke up).
Fuck it, he decides, shimmying out of his sleeping bag and grabbing his car keys.
He knows from his mom that Harry’s parents are on an anniversary getaway this weekend, and Harry’s home alone with the exception of Dusty, his very old, very mean cat. Louis rings the doorbell and bounces on the balls of his feet, as though it’s cold and he needs to move to keep warm.
“Louis?” Harry says when he opens the door. He’s in a pair of gym shorts and a gray hoodie, looking soft and rumpled with his curly hair tied up in a loose bun.
“Hi,” He says shyly.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asks. This is Louis’ shot to either make this weird or keep it casual, and he decides the best way to go is with his trademark attitude.
“Well, Harry, I’m 23 years old and far too old to be sleeping in a sleeping bag on my living room floor,” Louis answers. “And rumor has it that you have a spare room with my name on it.”
Harry thinks for a minute, the confusion evident in the furrow of his eyebrows. “Um…sure, yeah. Come on in.”
Louis walks into the foyer and looks around, not surprised to see that the Styles residence is relatively unchanged. The family always had classic taste and a tendency for cleanliness. It was always a stark contrast to Louis’ own house, with shoes and toys scattered all over and drawings constantly taped up to the walls.
“So, uh…I’m sure you remember where Gem’s room is,” Harry says, rubbing the back of his neck so Louis can spot a tattoo where the corner of his shirt rides up. “And the sheets were just changed, so you know…have at it, I guess.”
Louis feels awkward with the palpable tension thrumming in the air, he and Harry using pleasantries to dance around it. But now that he’s here, for the first time in five years, he’s not tired whatsoever.
“Hey, um…you don’t happen to have any iced tea, do you?” Louis asks. “Your mom always made the best iced tea.”
“Yeah, she made a batch before she left,” Harry says, his face brightening with something to do. “It’s in the fridge, come on.”
For someone who could never cook, Louis always loved Harry’s kitchen. It was airy and open, with hardwood floors and wide countertops that were perfect for sitting on. Louis used to beg Harry to make him cookies and toss him the ingredients from their cabinets, using the counter as his step stool. Then he would sit on them, kicking his feet against the wooden cabinets while he nicked dough from the bowl, until Harry put them in the oven and he got to kiss him senseless until the cookies were done.
Harry hands Louis a glass of iced tea and pours one for himself, rummaging in the pantry until he unearths a box of Teddy Grahams.
“You still love Teddy Grahams!” Louis crows, laughing as he sees Harry dig in for a handful. Harry always had a bag of Teddy Grahams with him in high school, and would even eat them for breakfast some mornings.
“Of course I do,” Harry replies, stuffing them in his mouth. “I would offer you some, but there’s only some loose paws left.”
“It’s ok, I never much cared for those anyway,” Louis tells him. “I was much more of a Goldfish man my-“ Before he can finish, Harry’s tossing a bag of pizza-flavored Goldfish his way, Louis’ all-time favorite snack.
“You are an angel, Harry Styles,” Louis cheers, eagerly ripping the bag open. “Want some?” He extends the bag to Harry, talking with his mouth full of delicious, carb-ridden goodness.
“Ugh,” Harry says, wrinkling his nose. Which, weird. Louis can’t really picture Anne and Robin settling in with glasses of wine and a bag of pizza-flavored Goldfish, but to each his own, he supposes.
Louis finishes his iced tea and gently places the glass next to Harry’s in the sink, wiping his hands on his sweatpants to get rid of the cheese dust.
“Well, I guess I’ll just go to bed,” He announces, hopping off the counter. It’s suddenly very silent in the intense, eerie way that only the dead of night can offer. It’s weird now, standing in Harry’s bright kitchen with the windows pitch black, like they’ve been transported back in time.
He heads towards Gemma’s old room, but before his foot lands on the step he hears, “Hey, Lou? Would you maybe want to watch a movie?"
He and Harry find themselves on Harry’s overstuffed couch, surfing through Netflix on Harry’s Smart TV.
“Ooh, Sixteen Candles, Sixteen Candles!” Louis shouts when Harry scrolls through the comedy section.
“Sixteen Candles it is,” Harry agrees, pressing play and tucking his feet tightly under his bottom to avoid any uncomfortable contact. They laugh their way through Molly Ringwald’s family forgetting her birthday and the Geek borrowing her underwear, but then Harry notices Louis rubbing his bare arms. Before he thinks twice, he’s grabbing their old plaid blanket off the top of the couch and unfolding it over their legs.
“Thanks,” Louis smiles, shifting on the couch so he’s almost lying down, his feet grazing Harry’s thigh. He looks very small and cozy like that, and Harry’s endeared in spite of himself.
“Hey, Louis?” He asks, pausing the movie as Samantha’s hair gets caught in the door.
“Yeah?” He asks softly, turning to look at Harry with a sleepy gaze.
“I really am sorry, you know,” he says, lightly resting his hand on Louis’ leg. “I don’t actually think you’re like your dad. And I don’t have to be drunk to talk to you.”
Louis exhales a deep breath, then sits up to look Harry dead-on. “I know you are, Harry. I appreciate that. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.” He fiddles with the strings on his sweatpants before he adds, “I still hate myself for hurting you like that. I was a dick, and I’m not proud of it at all.”
“So why’d you do it?” Harry asks, meeting Louis’ eyes as he looks up from his sweatpants drawstring.
“Well,” Louis starts, carefully choosing his words. “I really did love you, Harry. I promise I never lied about that.”
“Okayyyy,” Harry draws out, obviously waiting for Louis to get to the crux of it.
“But…well, to be honest I kind of felt like you were suffocating me,” Louis blurts. Harry physically jolts back like he’s been struck, and Louis rushes to continue.
“I loved you so much, Harry, but I was about to go to college and I needed my own life,” Louis says hastily. “I felt like we were so attached, you know?”
Harry says nothing, his face impassive although Louis can tell from his stiff posture that he’s angry.
“I just felt like I needed time to be by myself,” Louis explains. “I already belonged to so many people, with my mom and my sisters. That was before she met Dan, you know,” He clarifies, as if Harry’s memory needs jogging.
“And then I was your boyfriend and it was wonderful and special, but I also felt like I had no identity of my own,” Louis says, picking at the corner of his thumbnail. Harry’s posture has yet to relax.
“I was on the soccer team, but instead of coming to my games you decided to join the team, even though they made you scorekeeper because you’ve always had two left feet,” Louis adds with a huff of laughter at the end. “And I was in the drama club with Perrie, but then you joined stage crew so we could spend time together. And soon it was like I had no time of my own anymore,” Louis says. “I went home and had four girls to help take care of, and I had you to take care of, and I didn’t take care of myself at all. And once I realized I was going to school two hours away, without anyone else, it felt really…freeing, I guess.”
Harry’s leaned back against the arm of the couch as Louis spoke, but his face is still stony.
“I,” He begins. “I really thought we were going to get married,” Harry says quietly. “I thought we had the whole picture, you know? High school sweethearts, marriage, kids, a nice house. That was all I wanted.”
“Is that still all you want, though?” Louis points out gently. “Or do you want a marriage, and a house and kids with someone you love, plus a job you love and the chance to see the world? Do you want…more, I guess?”
“Oh my God,” Harry says slowly, resting his head in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed now!” He cries, words muffled by his palms.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, Harry!” Louis protests, reaching out to pull his hands away from his face. “I wanted all of that too. I just also wanted more.” He thinks for a second, then adds on, “I wanted more with you.”
Harry looks at him, cheeks splotched red, and says, “If you wanted that with me, then why did you leave me?”
“Because I wanted you to want more, too,” Louis says. “And I wanted to try some of it by myself, first.”
Harry takes a few deep breaths and composes himself. “I understand why you broke up with me,” He says slowly. “But I don’t understand how you did it so-how you did it like I meant nothing,” he says, swallowing deeply to get the words out. “You broke my heart, Lou,” he says with a tone of utter sadness.
Now it’s Louis’ turn to put his head in his hands. “Harry, I am so, so, so sorry I hurt you,” he whispers. “I have no excuse, except that I was young and scared and stupid. I feel like such a jerk about it, even now. I hate that I did that to you.”
“Maybe we can-maybe we can call a truce?” Harry asks. “We both fucked up and we’re grown-ups now, right? So we can do things like that.”
“I agree,” Louis says with a wide grin. “Grown-ups.”
Harry sticks his pinky out and Louis links his with it, shaking it once in a pinky swear.
“Come on, comrade!” Louis cries, silly and giddy and lighter than he’s felt since Liam’s party. “Let’s finish the movie.”
Harry giggles and presses play, brushing his socked feet with Louis’ bare ones under the blanket.
When Louis wakes up, his legs are tangled with Harry’s and his neck is scrunched into the couch at an uncomfortable angle, but it’s still the best sleep he’s had in weeks. He’s covered in crumbs and sees the bag of pizza Goldfish on the floor, pulverized Goldfish infecting their clothes, the blanket and Harry’s couch.He should've never rested his bare feet all over Harry until he agreed to go get them snacks.
He wriggles his way out from under Harry’s heavy limbs and begins to brush crumbs off the couch with his cupped hand.
Harry makes a couple smacking sounds, then opens his eyes.
“Hi,” he whispers with his raspy morning voice, sending Louis a soft, morning smile that sets his soul on fire like a birthday candle, soft and hopeful.
“Oh, shit,” he giggles, taking in the pizza-flavored dust coating themselves. He throws his head back and laughs and suddenly Louis is laughing with him, both of them wiping tears from their sleepy eyes.
Eventually, they get up and Harry promises to vacuum it up later. He makes the two of them pancakes and laughs when Louis hops on the counter and tries to toss chocolate chips in the batter when Harry’s distracted.
They eat pancakes and drink orange juice, talking about Louis’ job and Harry’s graduation ceremony.
“Our robes were bright red, Louis. Red. I looked like a giant pimple.”
Louis helps Harry clean up and allows him to walk him to the door.
“I’m glad you came over,” Harry tells him, eyes soft and happy.
“Me too,” Louis smiles. “Thank you, again. It was really good to spend time with you.”
“Bye, Lou,” Harry says quietly, taking a step closer, presumably to shut the door when Louis walks out. But Louis takes a step closer too, and before he even realizes what he does, he reaches up and kisses Harry right on his syrup-sticky lips. Harry kisses him too, briefly, but then he pulls back, a stunned look on his face.
Louis’ eyes widen in shock at what he’s just done, and before Harry can say anything Louis rushes out of the house and practically dives into his car.
“Come on, Pez, wake the fuck up,” he’s whimpering as he drives around without direction, waiting for Perrie to answer her damn phone.
After he’s called her five times without stopping, she finally answers on the fourth ring. “Someone better have fucking died, Louis, I swear to God,” she hisses, a murderous, scary sound.
“I kissed Harry,” Louis blurts out, frantically.
“You what?” Perrie screeches. He can hear her sit up and search for her room key, Danielle, the bride-to-be, murmuring angrily in the background.
“It was habit!” Louis cries. “I spent the night at his house and then he made pancakes and it was like old times-“
“Back up,” Perrie commands harshly. “You spent the night?”
“Not like that, Perrie,” Louis sighs.
“Louis Tomlinson, it is 8 in the morning and I am hungover as fuck,” she groans. “You better go to the beginning and spill this whole thing, because I am in no mood for complicated stories right now.”
Louis backs up and spills.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“I have a secret,” Harry tells Niall that night, when they’re sitting on the same couch, splitting a pizza and a six-pack.
“What?” Niall asks mindlessly, eyes fixated on the Yankees game on TV.
“Louis kissed me,” Harry announces with a monotone.
“He what?” Niall cries, finally tearing his eyes from the baseball game. “What the fuck?”
“I don’t know!” Harry exclaims, a little manically. “He came over last night and-“
“Back up, he spent the night?” Niall asks. “Dude, start at the beginning."
Harry starts at the beginning.
By the time he’s done, Harry realizes he’s…happy. More than happy, actually. A combination of giddy and excited, like he’s drank a Coke and it’s bubbling and fizzing throughout his entire body.
“So now what?” Niall prompts.
“I don’t know,” Harry says. “Now I guess I wait for him to call me and-“
“No, no, no!” Niall yells, crossing his arms. “I have been dealing with this you and Louis shit for five years, Harry. Five fucking years. There’s no waiting anymore. If you want him, you better go get him!”
Harry sits still for a minute, thinking, before he hops off the couch and races up the stairs to his bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Niall roars, following Harry up the stairs.
“I can’t go get him in the same clothes I was wearing last night, now can I?” Harry yells back with laughter. “I need to make a statement!”
“Oh, trust me Harry,” Niall sighs, sinking onto the carpeted top step. “No matter what you wear, you’ll be making a statement.”
Harry zooms past Niall down the stairs, running a hand through his tangled curls. He’s in black skinny jeans and boots, a green plaid button-down tossed haphazardly over his arms, barely buttoned so his tattoos are on display.
“Lock the door behind me, Niall!” Harry calls as he races out the door. “Or stay, do whatever the fuck you want! I don’t care!” Harry lets out a wild yell as he jumps in the car, and Niall can honestly say he’s never seen his friend so happy in his life.
Harry knocks on Louis’ front door, waiting nervously for someone to answer the door. A blonde, tanned girl with one eye made up opens the door.
“Harry?” She asks.
“Oh my God, Lottie!” Harry greets her. “You look so grown up and…gorgeous!” Lottie blushes and ducks her head.
“Are you looking for Louis?” She asks. “Because he’s not here.”
“Oh,” Harry deflates. “Do you happen to know where he is?”
“Not sure,” Lottie replies, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Fizz might know. Fizzy!” She bellows up the stairs. “She’ll be right down,” Lottie tells Harry pleasantly
“Oh,” Harry says. “Ok.”
“God, Lottie, what is it now?” Fizzy complains as she comes down the stairs, half her hair curled.
“Oh, hi Harry,” Fizzy greets him. “What are you doing here?”
“He’s looking for Lou,” Lottie answers for him. “Do you know where he is?”
“No,” Fizzy answers. But then Harry can hear their mom bustling to the front door, asking them who they’re talking to, and before he knows it, he’s sat in the Tomlinson-Deakin’s living room, one small twin on his knee and the other sitting by his feet.
“It’s been really great seeing you all,” He says after forty excruciating minutes, having his ear talked off by four chattering girls and two toddlers, plus Louis’ mom. “But I need to talk to Louis, if you know where he is?”
“Oh,” Louis’ mom says, surprise widening her eyes. “I don’t know actually, dear, I’m sorry.”
Harry sighs and sets Ernest to the side, standing up to grab his keys from the coffee table. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“He’s with Perrie,” Daisy pipes up from where she’s sitting on the floor, playing a game on her phone. “He said he was staying with her tonight.”
“Those two,” Johannah remarks with fondness. “Do you-“ she starts, addressing Harry again.
“Sorry, Mrs. Tomlinson, I mean Deakin!” Harry stammers as he rushes to the door. “It’s really important that I find him!”
Harry speeds to Perrie’s house and does the same thing with her parents, making excruciating small talk while his heart beats so loudly that he’s amazed they can’t hear it. Perrie’s mom tells him they were going to a movie, so Harry drives to the three movie theaters within a ten mile radius.
As he’s driving home, officially giving up, he sees two people sitting in Triple Strings, and jerks his car into a tight parking space with a screeching halt.
“Louis,” Harry pants by the time he’s run inside and found them in the back of the shop.
“Harry?” Louis looks confused, and a little humiliated. “Are you alright?”
“I love you,” Harry babbles, annoyed at the lack of brain-to-mouth filter. He ignores Perrie’s loud “awwww” and continues, looking right into Louis’ tired blue eyes.
“I haven’t slept as well as we did last night in years, Louis, because even though my couch sucks and you kicked me all night, I was with you,” Harry breathes, trying to fight the goofy grin poking at the corners of his mouth. “I see you everywhere now, and it’s fate, I know it is. We’re meant to be together, Louis,” he says, raising his hands as if to say, Isn’t it obvious?
“I pulled a shirt out of Niall’s sock drawer, of all places, and it was your shirt, Louis. What the fuck is up with that if that’s not fate?” Harry asks. “Last week I bought a bag of pizza-flavored Goldfish for no reason. I don't even like Goldfish!" He yells.
"You kissed me this morning like it was five years ago and you were sneaking out before my family woke up.” He laughs to himself, running a hand through his hair and feeling quite silly, even as he spills his guts in a crowded coffee shop. “I love you, still. I loved you then and I love you now and I know we’ve both fucked up and done things we shouldn’t have, but we’re older now and we can handle this like adults,” he rationalizes, holding out his pinky.
“We pinky sweared on that Lou,” he says, feeling like a total idiot, completely aware of the irony of promising to be mature adults while swearing on their smallest digits. “Grown-ups, right?”
Louis stands, amusement shining out of his face, and links his pinky with Harry. “Grown-ups,” He agrees. Then he grabs Harry’s shirt with his other hand, pulls him forward, and kisses him like it’s been five years but more than that, like it’s been break-ups and insults and stares across the room and pancakes and Goldfish. He kisses Harry like it’s the first time he’s ever kissed him and also the last, because he knows no kiss will ever be as perfect as this, even when they kiss as husbands and parents. This will always be the one to beat.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Eleanor Calder has a secret. She hasn’t told Niall yet, but she thinks he’ll be happy because they agreed to ditch the birth control four months ago. She’s sitting next to her husband at Liam’s kitchen table, but in his own house now.
Harry and Louis are holding hands under the table, still cute as ever after three years together. They’re all back together again, celebrating Perrie’s first trip home in over two years, after she landed her record deal and a makeup line and countless awards that rest in her childhood bedroom. She hasn’t gotten around to buying her own place yet, and doesn’t really see the point when she never has more than a few weeks in one place. Jade took over Perrie’s teaching spot at the dance studio, and she loves teaching kids how to dance and telling them about her famous friend.
Liam is looking around the table, discontented. “Jesus, did everyone end up with people they met in high school?” he scowls, taking a swig of his beer.
“Well I didn’t,” Perrie shrieks. “And you didn’t! And neither did Jade,” She says, shooting a glance at both of them. Jade and Liam blush but laugh it off. They never did get around to telling Perrie about that night two years ago, and don’t really plan to as she’ll be rather disappointed it didn’t lead to anything.
“Niall and I never dated in high school, so I don’t know if it counts,” Eleanor adds, feeling Niall’s hand rest on her knee. Niall owns the deli now, after the previous owner sold it to him for a steal. He’s kept it mostly the same, except he now gives everyone free pickles, whether they’re his best friends or not.
Eleanor spent some time trying on different hats, so to speak. She ran a fashion blog with Max, but he lives in Paris now and it faded out quickly. Her sociology degree didn’t lead to much, but she did eventually find a job working for the corporate office of a chain of department stores, and she’s happy.
“It totally counts,” Harry and Louis say together, shouting “Jinx! You owe me a Coke!” at the same time too.
“You’re both children,” Liam scolds, but he’s happy, his big brown eyes twinkling. He hasn’t told everyone yet, but he’s joining a yacht crew. He wants to meet new people and see the world, and his boss assured him the fire department will always be waiting for him should he decide to come back.
“Nah, we’re grown ups,” Harry says, turning in his chair to peck Louis’ nose. Harry just graduated grad school and received his masters in psychology. Louis is still teaching high school English, and now he gets to torture Daisy and Phoebe. They’ve talked about getting married, having kids and maybe moving to California, but they’re in no rush. They know they have time.
Perrie and Louis are still best friends. Despite the physical distance, they remain attached at the hip, and Harry has long ago ditched his jealousy of their close bond.
“Hey, good thing we never made that marriage deal, huh Pez?” Louis asks, grinning devilishly as he steals bites of Harry’s burger.
“Hey, Lou, you never know,” Perrie says with a laugh. “Three years have passed and neither of us are married, so only seven more to get it together,” she jokes with a grin, exchanging a look with Harry. Despite their talk about waiting and no rush, Perrie knows Harry’s planning to propose sooner rather than later. Louis is too, but Perrie hasn’t let Harry know. Sometimes, a couple secrets are good to keep.