Work Text:
Thursday
"So they're not talking to you," Ed said, frown on his face as he ran his hands through his rust coloured hair. It was sticking up all over the place and looked even more so from where Harry was hanging upside down over the edge of Ed's sofa, feet crossed over the back of it.
"Yes. . . No? I mean, I left. I haven't called them either. Don't want to," he said with a pout, looking back at the screen and hoping that being upside down would actually better his game. Generally, he was pretty good at playing Mario Kart. Won most of his games when he was visiting Ed which is probably why Ed suggested they have a game with Harry suspended like this on the sofa and Ed smoking up enough to even out both of their odds.
Ed nodded, brow furrowed as he attempted to navigate the rainbow roads that Harry still managed with ease. Walking across a completely clear path and Harry'd fall over a stray pocket of air - set him up as Princess Peach and he could take everyone on and stick to the roads like glue.
"But, like, Louis is your boyfriend, yeah?"
Harry bit at his lip, "Yeah,"
"And Liam is your best mate?"
"Yep."
"And you decided that making them kiss playing a game of fucking spin the bottle was a great idea because, why?"
"They love each other. They love each other and I love them and I don't think anyone loves me."
"I love you," Ed said knocking his knee into Harry's ear which he whined about because it took his concentration off the game long enough for Ed to pass.
"That was low, mate," Harry muttered quick, tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he fought to get Peach back on the road and in front of Ed. It was all fun and games until Harry wasn't winning and then his competitive side would come out.
"True though."
Harry chuckled, rounding the corner and taking Ed on the bend, again. "Love you back,"
Ed hummed and Harry concentrated on the game until Peach streaked across the finishing line and he dropped the controller with a grin, turning himself right side up so his feet landed in Ed's lap. "You promised me food if you lost."
Ed rolled his eyes and rubbed his free hand over Harry's ankle. "I've been feeding you for two days and letting you kip on my sofa. Not exactly sure how me losing ends up in me having to buy the currys,"
Harry just batted his lashes a few times and smiled wide in a way that he knew would make his dimples extra deep.
Ed sighed, pushing Harry's feet off his lap and standing up, "Alright then you cheeky fuck."
Harry called back thank you in the cheesiest voice possible, imagining the finger Ed would be throwing his way before remebering, "And the beer! We ran out I think," he added - knowing full well that he had drunk the last one the previous day and had promised himself he'd leave Ed's flat to get more but then. Well. Then he had started thinking about how Ed drank the same brand that Louis did and thinking about Louis made him think about Liam. Then thinking about them both made him remember how much it absolutely gutted him watching them kiss. Watching what should have been a brush of lips become this heated thing where they did nothing more but press their mouthes together but it was more. It was more with how Liam's hand tightened into a fist on his knee - like if he let go he'd want to be pulling at Louis in the same way. It was more becaus Louis made this sound when they pulled apart and everything Harry didn't want to see was right there in technicolour life before him.
His best friend. His boyfriend. And a kiss that might have lit a spark.
And it was all his own fault.
And it hurt.
Harry pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, grinding in hard - maybe if he did it hard enough he'd push out the near burn mark of seeing his two favourite people kiss like no one was watching. But Harry was. Harry's eyes were open now and no amount of wishing that he'd stayed quiet, that he didn't start drinking wine straight from the bottle and letting his mind wander to possibilities and maybe's, no amount of hoping that he wasn't right could shut that out.
He was so fucking stupid and they were just as fucking dumb and he didn't want to talk to anyone about it. Especially not them. Not Liam or Louis or anyone.
"You really are the worlds worst house guest, Haz," Ed said, walking back past the sofa to grab his jacket from where he'd thrown it over the beanbag when he'd come in from work. "Not one fucking beer left or any vodka. I know I told you to help yourself, but, mate, come on,"
"My heart is broken, Edward, need I remind you?" Harry whined, pulling a cushion over his face, "Broken, in hundreds and thousands of little pieces."
Ed laughed, and something that felt vaguely shaped like the plush Lego man Harry bought for Ed's birthday a year ago hit Harry in the stomach. "You sound like Louis when you bitch like that! I'll be back in a few. My half of the money's on the bench if the food gets here before I do."
Harry frowned into the safety of the cushion cover, swallowed hard against the slight mention of Louis in any context and waved Ed off with one hand. He listened as the door closed and the games menu just played on and on. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that this boy that he loved so much could make him feel like this. It was worse that his best friend - a boy he'd known since nursery - could be a part of that. It wasn't fair because they were his people. He leaned on them so much and for them to both . . . for them to even entertain the idea of each other in some different form hurt.
Harry loved Louis. Harry loved Liam.
But was it enough?
Could he really sit back and watch Liam act one way around Harry and ignore the looks of longing he would try to hide everytime Louis was around? Could he pretend that he was enough for Louis, that he could in any way be completely what Louis needed, wanted.
Could he ever be enough?
In the dark and the quiet he tried to sort it all out in his mind once more. It was all he'd done since creeping out of the flat an hour or so after Liam had gone to bed and Louis had passed out on the sofa beside Harry. It was all he'd done when he found an old duffle bag in the back of his wardrobe and filled it with some clothes before shoving his text books into his backpack and treading carefully out to the front door. It's all he thought about, standing on the street under the same street light that he watched two people he thought were lovers stand hours before.
He didn't want to lose Louis. Throwing away nearly three years of a relationship wasn't something he could even begin to process. Louis had been so many things for him. His first real taste of love. His first proper relationship - not counting the three or so things he'd had with a few girls and a boy back in college. Louis was the first one to kiss Harry and make him feel it everywhere like he'd heard about in all those songs. He wanted to write songs about Louis, dedicate sonnets to his smile, his hands, his little feet, his precious little tum. He couldn't picture a future without Louis. They'd only just begun discussing what they were doing after their final year in Manchester and now. . . the idea of their own little flat someplace in London where Harry could get an internship at the art gallery his professor was always trying to push him toward and Louis could figure out just what he wanted was fading fast.
And Liam.
Liam.
Liam was his best friend. Liam was secrets told under duvets and in forts made out of blankets in winter and cubby houses they tried and mostly failed to recreate in Harry's backyard in a tree that could barely hold their weight climbing it, let alone a plank of wood or ten. Liam was his first kiss because Liam's kidney fixed itself and Harry was overcome. Liam was holding his hand when Harry's Dad left and Liam was a shoulder to cry on when Harry buried his gran. Liam was the only one who knew Harry inside out and now maybe Harry didn't know him at all.
Maybe he didn't even know himself.
Harry threw the pillow off with a huff and pulled his legs off the sofa, standing up. He stretched and caught a whiff of how bad he smelled. He had been virtually living on Ed's sofa since he woke him up at three am with a sad face and a broken heart and Ed had just taken him because he was Ed and he never asked. They were so much alike in that factor. Both listeners to other peoples secret thoughts. And it was what Harry needed. Time to figure things out and time to work it all through - pick at all the parts.
He just didn't know how long it would take or the fact that everytime he thought he had some sort of handle on everything, another memory would surface and he'd be right back at the start.
Best friend or boyfriend.
Liam or Louis.
Louis or Liam.
One or the other or neither and it was the last of those three options that kept tearing Harry apart.
His phone buzzed and buzzed and Harry knew it would be a call. He looked at his bag where he knew he'd buried his phone hours earlier - not wanting to even think about checking for any type of notification. He stared at his bag and focused on breathing in and out until it stopped. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked up his duffle of clothes from where he'd dropped it that first night beside the odd giraffe shaped umbrella stand that Ed had near the front door. He pulled out what he hoped was clean pants, jeans and a shirt, his woolen pullover would just have to make it another day because the only other one in there was decidedly Liam's and Harry. He just. He couldn't.
He spent the longest time in the shower. Ed had great water pressure here and Harry was one to forget everything while hot water pounded against his back. . .
Eventually, when the water was starting to cool, he got out. He'd thrown his pants on and a shirt before he started toweling off his hair, when he heard the doorbell. He threw on his jeans, not buttoning them up because his shirt hung low and the door went again so he walked barefoot up the hall, towel still brushing over his hair as he grabbed the money from the bench and headed for the front door. Ed had left more than enough to pay for them both - another thing he had to thank him for, bloody top mate Ed was - and called out again that he was coming because the delivery guy must have had his bloody hand pressed against the buzzer.
He got closer and the buzzing hadn't stopped, Harry dropped the towel to the floor and jogged the last few steps, "Hold your bloody horses, mate! I'm coming!"
Harry opened the door, double checking that he hadn't left a coin behind and when he looked up he wasn't sure if he wanted to shut the door quick or lean forward and wrap himself around the boy in front of him.
Neither aparently, won out.
"Hi," is what he said, voice small and shocked.
"Hi," is all he got in return.
It was a start.