Work Text:
Sometimes Justin dreams about Harry when he starts to miss his touch.
He dreams about Harry's lips and his hands and how good he feels. In his mind's eye he sees the warmth and darkness around them the first time they held hands. He wants to stay in those dreams until Harry is back so that he wakes up to a reality that's even better.
It's proof you don't always get what you want. When he wakes up he's alone and he won't be late to this morning's interview because he's too upset to go back to sleep.
It's harder now that it's not just sex. Now they talk on the phone and kiss over Skype and Harry sneaks into his mind at the strangest times. Sometimes Harry wakes him up with a call just to say hi. His throat was hoarse, like he'd just done a show and Justin could hear the city in the background. "I don’t have anything else to say, really,” he said. “I just needed to talk to you.”
Justin understood that, because sometimes he felt the same way. He always picked up the phone, even when he knows one silly word is on the other side.
Admittedly, it had been hard for Justin even when it was just sex. Hard to believe that Harry Styles being attracted to him was a fact and not a fever dream.
The very first time, Justin had gone into a back room with Harry with the full intention of chewing him out over the rumors that Harry wanted to date his mother. He meant to punch him, he really did, but he never got to chance. Harry looked around carefully once, pressed him up against the door, and kissed him so hard and so good that Justin's mind honestly felt blank for a few moments. Harry pulled back with a slow smile, freezing when he saw the look on Justin's face.
"This is what you wanted...right?" he said. He was still close enough that they were breathing the same air. He had rings on his fingers and tattoos on his wrist above the suit cuff, as if his gorgeous, ridiculous voice wasn't enough.
Justin stared at him for a beat, watching Harry's eyes start to close off and his mouth start to for the word 'sorry'. He stepped back and Justin followed him.
"Yeah," he said, tipping up on his toes a little to pull Harry back into him. Harry grinned into the next kiss and Justin was only vaguely aware of how much he meant that yes.
After that they kept winding up in bed together after shows and events and finally Harry pressed his thighs apart in the back room at the Teen Choice Awards and asked him if they could stop pretending these were accidents and maybe trade numbers.
"You know," he smirked. "for booty calls or whatever." Justin had been dazed and dying for Harry to touch him but he wouldn't move a muscle until Justin said yes. Later, when Harry started texting him stupid things for apparently no reason and harassing him with emojis on an almost daily basis, he complained that he'd been bribed. Harry just shrugged as if to say It worked, didn't it?
Justin never let it show that he was quietly panicking. It was one thing to get off with someone a few times. It was another thing to have their number and call them whenever you were in the same city, or even close to it.
It was one thing to have two members of each of their security teams in on it and hustling them in back entrances and through alleyways just for few minutes alone.
It was one thing when he realized he hadn't so much as looked at anyone else since the whole thing started.
It was one thing realizing Harry Styles, who could pull anyone he wanted, must be crazy attracted to him to go through all the trouble. It was another thing entirely realizing he might feel the same way.
One rare night when they had a nice hotel room for a whole six hours after midnight, Harry murmured into his neck soft, nonsense words that made Justin's heart beat like crazy and his whole body go stiff. "What did you say?" he whispered.
Harry pulled back looking confused, his eyebrows all crinkled up and drawn down, the opposite of his flushed cheeks and mussed hair. For a moment Justin just wanted to shut up and let him keep going. but Harry said, "What do you mean?"
and Justin heard himself speak, bland and careful, "It sounded like you called me your boyfriend."
Harry's face flushed redder and his eyebrows lifted. He shrugged. "I know we haven't had that conversation or anything. I'm not saying I am your boyfriend I just...I dunno I think about it sometimes. I mean I don't care if we don't. We don't have to call ourselves anything but...I do like you." he looked at Justin through his eyelashes with a little shy smile. Justin felt his face freezing into a blank expression even though his mind was unraveling Harry watched him carefully. He said, slowly like he said everything, "You haven't thought about it?"
Boyfriend. Justin had been surrounded by mobs, threatened with murder and kidnapping, yelled at by powerful label executives, and walked the gauntlet of ridicule with his head held high, all several times. In that moment, looking into Harry's eyes with that question hanging in the air, he had never been more terrified.
"Thing?" he said finally, his voice coming out high and breathless. Harry's eyebrows went up. "I mean-Harry. I haven't-I didn't even?" he sat up and faced Harry, trying to convey what he was feeling with his eyes because his mouth was getting it terribly wrong. "I just. I can't."
"You can't." Harry repeated. Justin could already feel the cold where he was pulling away but he didn't know how to stop it. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? If you don't like me you can just say it. You're not going to hurt my feelings-" liar, Justin thought. "I told you I don't care if we don't do anything about it. You don't have to be this way."
Justin took a deep breath. He looked down at the white sheets. His hands were shaking. Harry's hands were clenched into tight fists. "It's not that I don't. You know." he couldn't say he liked Harry. Not that way. His mind wouldn't form the words. His mouth wouldn't speak them. "I just can't."
"You mean all of it, don't you? Us." Harry's eyebrows were drawn down again. The flush was gone and his hands were white and Justin had the sudden thought that he was beautiful even with tears glazing his green eyes over.
Justin was sure that he was frozen. He couldn't feel anything inside this moment, although he was sure he should. "I'm really sorry."
Harry didn't say anything back. He just glared at him like an accusation and Justin didn't have a defense. Whatever he was on trial for, he knew that he was guilty, and there was nothing he could do to atone for it.
Harry pulled on his clothes and told him to go fuck himself. Justin called his mom and cried. She didn't ask why, just said soothing words that curled around him like her hugs, and told him everything was okay and she loved him. He wondered if she'd still say that if she knew that a few minutes earlier he'd been wrapped up in a beautiful boy's arms and happier than he'd ever been.
The next day he got out of bed even though he hadn't slept. He went out the back entrance at the scheduled time. He went back to his regular hotel and he ignored it when everyone asked what was wrong. He told Fredo and Twist he'd be fine when they asked if it was, you know, a boyfriend thing. He didn't even flinch. Of course everyone thought it but him. Of course.
He didn't remember a lot from that period of time, except after that London was Hell and Harry wasn't there for his birthday and all the other guys ignored him for a while. He couldn't tell Chaz what was wrong, or Scooter, or his mother, and all he could think about were the sermons he'd heard when he was little. How he'd admired all the older hockey players when he was young and stuttered when the captain of the high school team asked his name. How he'd daydreamed about the rappers he thought were cool and hadn't connected it at the time, because they all had hot girlfriends right? And obviously he watched Wizards of Waverly Place for Selena, and David Henrie's abs and gorgeous eyes had nothing to do with it. He'd tried to remember every girl he'd ever been attracted to, but the more he thought about that, the more boys he remembered along with them.
There wasn't anyone to talk to, not really, and he was terrified. he googled 'bisexuality' and read all the definitions over and over again. He went to LGBT websites and watched youtube videos and read a wikihow on 'accepting your bisexuality'. Inside his mind, he watched himself watching people and realized that his eyes automatically snapped toward tall skinny boys in tight jeans with lots of hair. He still didn't have anyone to talk to though, so he stared at the ceilings in hotels and buses and thought about it until he had formed it into something concrete for himself.
"Hey Ryan," he said one morning.
His best friend looked up from his cereal with a yawn. "Yeah?"
"I'm bi, okay?" his heart was thudding and he was holding his spoon in a death grip but...he'd finally said it to someone besides the mirror. That was good at least.
Ryan blinked slowly and said, "Okay man." Justin felt his shoulders sag in relief.
Later that afternoon he told Chaz, who made a huge deal about Ryan being told before him and Justin knew he was happy for him. Then he told Twist and Fredo for the formality of it, even though they kind of already knew. Then he sat down in a private room and told Scooter who, after a beat of nerve-wrecking silence, pulled him into a huge hug. That was the only time he cried.
Not when his dad said "I...um. Okay, son. That's...good for you. I'm glad you're happy," even though Justin never said he was anything of the sort. "We'll talk when you visit, okay?"
Not when his mother hung up the phone.
Once you start being honest it all comes out in a flood. By the next morning everyone in the closest knit part of his crew knew about Harry. The looks he kept catching were a constant reminder of how bad he'd fucked up and how he had no way to fix it. He tried not to think about it.
A few weeks later, they were in England again. Justin knew the boys were playing a few cities over and even though he knew there was absolutely no way anything could happen, it still made him jumpy.
Fredo was splayed on the bed opposite of Justin reading out loud all the fan tweets he found amusing when someone knocked on the door. He immediately sprang up and raced over to open it, so fast that Justin had to jump back so he didn't accidentally trip him.
"Alfredo?" he heard a familiar voice say.
"Have a great time,” said Fredo. And then there was a slam an a click and a very confused looking Harry Styles was stumbling into the room.
Justin swallowed. Harry was in tight jeans and a dark sweater that hung a little in the front so his chest piece was visible. He had a navy blue beanie pulled low over his forehead and he wasn't wearing the ring Justin had bought him two months ago. He looked gorgeous. Justin, on the other hand, knew he kind of looked like a mess. He had on a grey sweater that Harry had left behind in a rush one night, and honestly he'd worn it more often than he was proud of. His socks were mismatched and his hair was a lost cause at this point. His stylist was probably going to murder him. After Harry, of course.
Except...Harry didn't look particularly angry. He pulled off his beanie and sat down where Fredo had been laying five minutes ago.
"He had Nick in on it," Harry said in wonder, "Nick texted me that he was here and it was emergency. So," he looked straight into Justin's eyes. "what do you want?"
"I'm sorry," Justin blurted. He couldn't remember ever being this nervous, not in front of the president and not before Madison square garden. Because if he didn't get this right he couldn't work on more music and make a triumphant return. This wasn't a career in a town where everybody loved a good comeback. This was a boy he was half in love with and if he didn't get this right he might never see him again.
"I'm so so sorry. That was so messed up of me to do. I shouldn't have reacted that way. It was immature and stupid and I'm an idiot. Please," he took in a shaky breath, "Please forgive me?"
"Okay calm down a second," Harry's voice was low and calm, frustratingly so. He sounded like he did every day. He could have been talking to an interviewer or any of his other friends. And damn if he didn't look even more gorgeous than dreams or magazines. "Don't cry. I forgive you okay? I didn't realize it when it was happening but..I know you must have been scared. I'm sorry that I made you feel that way."
Justin blinked. "You didn't do anything! I-"
"Justin listen. Neither of us acted the way we could have. the point is, we can move on." Justin couldn't believe it. This was all it took? a conversation? one apology, and he had Harry back? "-We can be friends now."
"Friends." Justin repeated. He felt that icy blankness coming over him again and he fought it back.
"Yeah sure," Harry said, with equal blankness. "I thought that's what you wanted. Just mates or whatever."
"Harry...that's not what I want like, at all."
"It's not what I want either," Harry's tone was light, like they were trading jokes or something. "Trouble is, I don't know if we want the same thing. So I thought friends was a good middle ground." And then Justin saw the cracks where Harry was holding himself together. How he was biting his lip to keep words in and twisting his hands together tight to keep from doing something stupid.
"I want you," Justin said. Harry's eyes never left his. "Like, I was freaking out about liking guys and I went through this whole thing trying to figure it out. And when I did I told my friends and my parents and my team so I could stop feeling like a coward. You know? But the whole point was that I really really liked you. I still do. I didn't know how to accept it but now I do, so I'd...really like to take you out. On an actual date. And I promise I won't ever be shitty to you again."
And now Harry was smiling. "Well in that case," he said, dropping down next to Justin on the bed. He ran his fingers through the mess of Justin's hair and tugged at it until Justin's chin tilted up toward him. He smiled down at Justin's eyes lit up with hope and then he leaned down and kissed him gently. He pulled back, still smiling, and said "Yes."
And he meant to everything.
So now Harry's one of the best parts of Justin's life, except it aches when he's away. But then he'll be sitting in his hotel room or his bedroom at home or his bunk in the tour bus and he'll hear a soft click behind him. And suddenly his arms are full of a tired, beautiful boy who sinks into bed with Justin like it's right where he belongs.
The point is, no matter how much it hurts when he's away, when he's back every second is worth it.