Archive of Our Own

🏈

There’s an insistent knock at the door that pulls Louis out of his afternoon nap. He groans and cusses out, blindly reaching to shake his boyfriend back to reality. His hand touches thin air, and Louis huffs: it’s getting annoying to wake up alone after the two of them just had sex. Makes him feel like it’s a one-off, a booty call (Louis always hated this specific phrase; honest to god, what is up with Americans calling their arse a booty?) or ‘hit it and quit it’ kind of deal. Because Louis wasn’t any of these things. He was in a long-term committed relationship with the captain of their local football team.

“Lou? You’re decent?” Zayn asks like it ever bothered him before and swings the door open. “Good, you’re awake. Harry’s still here?”

Louis yawns and stretches.

“Nah. Fucked off some time ago,” he shrugs, trying to feign nonchalance. “Why?” he asks suspiciously, arching his brow.

“Was going to see if you want to join me for this gig tonight,” Zayn drawls, getting himself under Louis’ sheets like he has done it a thousand times before (to be perfectly candid, he did; at this point, Louis is more used to sleeping with Zayn smothering him than with his own boyfriends, which is, like, fine, and doesn’t really bother him. They are peachy, truly.)

“Will Nick be there?” Louis asks, already knowing the answer.

“He is a pretentious hipster who has his own radio show. Of fucking course, he will be there,” he deadpans, and Louis hums, absent-mindedly playing with Zayn’s hair (Louis is the only one who is allowed to touch Zayn’s perfectly styled hair; not even Niall is granted the permission to do that).

“Then you know why I’m not going,” Louis smiles sweetly.

Zayn pouts. Louis hates it when Zayn pouts around him. If there is a single person in the universe who can make Louis do something he really doesn’t want to do is Zayn Malik.

“C’mon, Lou. It’s going to be fun, mate. Get drunk, relax a bit. When was the last time you had some actual fun?” he asks, and Louis stares at him like he is mental.

“Literally a few hours ago, when my boyfriend pounded me relentlessly for forty minutes,” he says flatly, and Zayn cringes.

“I know you make it sound like he’s great in bed, but, honestly, Lou, after three years, he still does it for you? Kinda hard to believe that you are ready to deal with the personality of a lemon that is sucked dry only because he has a nice cock that can pound you relentlessly.”

“He also has a very impressive and tight arse,” Louis shrugs, choosing to ignore Zayn’s comment. “Every time I fuck him, it’s like the first time.”

Zayn rolls his eyes.

Louis knows very well everything that his best friend thinks of his boyfriend, and it is, in all honesty, getting kind of old. Louis understands that Zayn, Niall and Liam aren’t exactly fond of Harry for all the right reasons: they barely ever spend any time together, and if they do, then it’s at the bar or a party, and Louis’ boyfriend just sticks to his own jock friends and only comes by every now and then to grope Louis and claim him as his for anyone who dares to ogle. Louis’ mates don’t know anything real about Louis’ boyfriend, and they don’t have a whole lot in common.

Which is, like, of course, Louis would love for all of them to get along and be a big happy family, but Louis is also his own person, and after they graduate next year, he is going to move in with Harry and build a life together, as they have had it planned since the first semester they started going out.

“I really couldn’t care less about your explicit sex life,” Zayn says honestly and clicks his tongue. “But you are going with us tonight. It’s been ages, Lou. You’ve got to get out sometimes, babe.”

“Let me see what Harry—”

“No,” Zayn speaks over him, crossing his arms. “You are coming, Lewis, and that’s that. Don’t make me make you regret it.”

🏈

The pub is filled with young people dressed like Pinterest pictures, and Louis is going to lie if he says he doesn’t mind it. He has never been much of a dresser himself, opting for comfortable sweatsuits or casual wear. Unlike his boyfriend, who liked all kinds of ridiculous clothes, Louis was happy with his plain band tee, dark trousers and his favourite worn jean jacket.

But since Louis was friends with all the hipsters in the world, he couldn’t run away from it.

One of the few actually hipster things Louis has ever done was smoke weed, and he only did it on a special occasion. He considered bullet coffee a crime, didn’t care much for plant-based food and vintage clothing and possessed very little subcultural knowledge. The only other thing Louis allowed himself to enjoy, though, was vinyl records. He enjoyed listening to them when he was making love to his boyfriend, and you can call him cheesy, but it made him feel especially loved up.

“Tommo, what ya doing here standing without a drink, mate?” he hears a familiar thick accent behind his back. Niall wraps his hands around Louis’ waist like they belong there and shoves his pint to Louis. “Drink up, lad. You need to catch up with Payno and me here. We already had three of these and a shot of something utterly disgusting.”

“Nice to see you too, Nialler,” Louis says, fondly rolling his eyes. He can smell Niall’s cologne and a sweet hint of weed. “You always get bloody touchy when you get high,” Louis murmurs, but doesn’t protest when Niall pulls him closer. “You know, you might wanna back off a bit, with your boyfriend standing literally right fucking here.”

“Zaynie and I both agreed to put you on the list of people we could fuck once you grow some balls and end it with your idiot boyfriend,” Niall informs him nonchalantly.

Louis clicks his tongue.

“What has my boyfriend ever done to any of you?” he muses, feeling the ping in his chest that he had more than enough time to get used to. “He isn’t actually that bad, you know.”

“Oi, talking about Louis’ idiot boyfriend again?” Zayn chimes in, holding three bottles of beer in one hand.

“Stop calling him that,” Louis and Liam say at the same time (whiny and overly dramatic, respectively).

“Did you just fucking imitate me?” Louis asks, dangerously narrowing his eyes. “You are such a shithead, Liam. Can’t fucking believe I ever gave you my blessing to join the group.”

“Never needed your blessing,” Zayn hums, handing Niall a freshly opened bottle of dark ale. “Do you mind now if I steal my boyfriend, who actually showed up for me tonight, and snog him before the performance?”

Louis glares at Zayn, who intertwines his fingers with Niall’s and drags him to the dance floor, leaving Louis and Liam alone.

“What the fuck does that supposed to mean?” Louis asks, dumbfounded. “Why does he always have to be so bloody rude?”

“I think what he means is that Niall is there every time Zayn has to go on stage,” Liam explains patiently. “While when you have your performance at the theatre, Harry is nowhere to be found. And if he comes in, he just brings his stupid jock friends around, and they all collectively pay very little attention to the play.”

Liam is a nice lad. He speaks his mind and doesn’t beat around the bush. Which is also why Louis can’t really get mad at him, but it still stings. Liam has been Louis’ friend for three years now, and he is someone Louis has a mad respect for: Liam excels at his classes and has been the top student since the day he started uni. He is also friendly with literally everybody on the campus, and he is the only person who can make jocks behave (even Louis’ boyfriend listens to him most of the time).

“He just isn’t into that kind of stuff,” Louis shrugs, furrowing his brows. “You know he prefers sports to drama.”

“It’s not about what he prefers, Louis,” Liam says, voice serious. “You show up for him, and it’s only fair for him to do the same. He doesn’t appreciate you enough.”

“You don’t know anything about us,” Louis argues. “He is a good person.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Liam says sceptically. “So far, three years in and not a single act of effort on his behalf. Should make you concerned, Lou.”

“Can we stop talking about my love life and focus on yours?” Louis pleads, hoping Liam will just drop it.

Liam is a stubborn one, but he can see how uncomfortable Louis gets, so he pushes back.

“It’s good, I think,” he complies. “Lizbeth’s been great. Very, um, bendy.”

“She is a ballet dancer, Liam, I sure hope she is,” Louis snickers. “That’s not what I mean. How is she, uh, in life?”

Liam has this issue with all the girls he’s been going out with. They never quite moved past the honeymoon phase, when it’s all about sex and touches. Liam craved an actual emotional connection to someone, not just physical, and he’s been coming up short. He never got lucky enough to develop real feelings after the initial thrill of having too much sex and sharing an excess of saliva.

“Alright, I suppose,” Liam says, tone flat, and Louis sighs.

A miss again, he thinks darkly.

“Life would have been so much easier for you had you been one of us queer people,” Louis grumbles under his breath.

“Please, Lou. You know fuck all about choosing a man.”

“I don’t see anybody else dating the same person for three bloody years.”

“You say like it’s an accomplishment. Maybe just for him,” Liam says pointedly.

And as much as Louis would like to protect his own boyfriend, the truth is that Liam is right. Louis is a catch. He is funny, pretty, has good grades and gets along with everybody. Anyone would be lucky to date him.

“I would really appreciate it if we talked about something else,” Louis says, and Liam doesn’t have any other option than to oblige.

🏈

Never in a million years did Louis imagine moving to America and attending a university in the loud city of Ann Arbor. Louis is a British boy, Yorkshire through and through. Has the heaviest accent, calls everybody love and babe and drinks tea like it’s a part of his religion. He is a very stereotypical Brit, and he isn’t ashamed about it.

When Zayn told him five years ago that he had been considering the University of Michigan for his Art degree, Louis didn’t think twice about it. Sure, it seemed as good a place to study as any, but did Zayn seriously want to move to the fucking United States for four years? Well, he did, and then he studied harder than ever before. And since Louis didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, he simply followed. He chose to study Drama and Theatre, and the uni had a really nice programme to offer.

Louis got part of his scholarship for athletics since he had been playing soccer his entire life and another part for academics. Zayn got sixty per cent for his academic scholarship and had to cover the rest with a student loan.

Their first year together, by some kind of miracle, they ended up living in the same dorm, having to share the space with a boy from Ireland who liked to talk about golf like it was his career (it wasn’t; he was studying Music and Production) named Niall Horan, a swimmer and a charmer, Liam Payne, who was going to be a microbiologist.

If not for Zayn, Louis would have considered joining a fraternity just for the heck of it. He saw tons of movies about it, and they certainly knew how to have fun. But Louis didn’t want to do it by himself, since the whole point of moving overseas was to stay close to his best mate, and he figured he’d have an opportunity to have a lot of fun regardless.

Instead of joining any of the fraternities, he decided to give a chance to one of the honorary athlete society groups that had their meetings every other Thursday. They offered guidance and did charity work that Louis always enjoyed being a part of.

He also got himself busy running for the presidency of the local Athlete Allies, focusing on the LGBTQ+ athletes and, well, allies. The former president was graduating that year, and Louis felt like he could really make a difference.

That’s where he met his boyfriend, a varsity team member who had been playing American football since before he knew how to speak full sentences. He had just come out two years prior and was looking for someone to tell him that it was okay to like boys as much as he liked girls.

Once Louis saw him, tall, pretty and with a sweet smile, he knew he was done for. Even a deep southern drawl didn’t drive him away. Louis found it charming and sexy, and that was it. He got himself a boyfriend not even a month into a new and exciting life.

🏈

“Tomlinson, what is up with you today?” Coach Griffith asks, furrowing his brows. “Are you hungover or something?”

Louis grumbles and rolls his eyes.

“No. I’m just… dunno, down, I guess?” he shrugs, noncommitted.

Griffith stares at him.

“Tomlinson, there is no down in sports, do you hear me? You are a bloody captain. Act like it.”

Louis likes Coach Griffith for multiple reasons. He is just as much of a footie fan as Louis himself, and even though he cheers for Liverpool (which is, like, okay, but why would anybody if there is ManU, but definitely not the point), he is a great mentor. Unlike a lot of coaches, he prioritises athletes’ mental health and insists that everybody puts as much effort as they can and then some more into their classes. A lot of coaches would just let your poor academic performance slide, but not Griffith. For that, Louis is even willing to forgive him for moving all the way from Leeds to America to coach soccer.

Also, Griffith, unlike a lot of older men his age, actually supports gay rights and doesn’t look at Louis like he is some fucking alien.

“Yes, Coach,” Louis nods, gritting his teeth.

It's not like he’s in a shitty mood for any good reason, honestly. He just saw Zayn and Niall leaving the shower together in the morning, and it rubbed him the wrong way. He felt a ping of familiar jealousy. He wishes he could live in the same dorm with his boyfriend, but he isn’t allowed to because he isn’t a part of the fraternity.

“Does it have something to do with a certain football player?” Griffith asks, voice tired. “What did he do again, Tomlinson?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Louis sighs. “He’s gone for the rest of the week for their away game, and he’s not coming to watch me play on Thursday,” he says slowly. “It’s supposed to be an important game, and I just…” He sighs again. “It’s stupid, I know. There isn’t anything he can do about it.”

“Louis,” Griffith frowns, “you are one of the most efficient players I have ever seen in my career,” he starts, voice serious. “You have a great sixth sense, and you are born to be a leader. You are stubborn, confident, and you make people want to believe in you. The only weakness you have, lad, is that you let your boyfriend affect your mood so much. Don’t focus on people who aren’t there. Focus on those who showed up for you, okay? Remember that the glass is always half-full.”

Louis bites his lip and nods.

He and Griffith are as close as a varsity captain and his coach can be. Louis knows his family, and he and Zayn even had a Thanksgiving dinner at Griffith’s house the first two years after they moved to America. Naturally, there isn’t a lot that the coach doesn’t know about Louis and his love life. Or anybody else, for that matter. Louis is dating the captain of their football team, and it’s a big deal, even in uni. His boyfriend is the most popular and sought-after boy in the whole school. Everybody wants to be him or be with him, and as long as Louis is in the picture, it’s not happening.

“Yes, Coach,” Louis repeats obediently.

“Look, I’m sure he’s going to call you before the game to psych you up,” Griffith says, smiling softly. “He is a good lad, and he cares about you.”

Louis smiles back, and it’s genuine. Griffith is one of the few people in Louis’ life who likes Louis’ boyfriend. He knows that he used to stay up all night when Louis couldn’t sleep because of the time difference, and he helped Louis do his physiotherapy when Louis strained his knee last year. He knows that he is patient enough to sit through Louis’ rants and listen to him talking nonsense. He’s seen how happy Louis is when his boyfriend is around, and Griffith has always encouraged their relationship.

So, yeah, maybe Zayn, Liam and Niall should all take a page out of Coach Griffith’s book and learn how to be fucking nice to Louis’ boyfriend for a change.

🏈


(read 4:55 pm)
H xx:
Hey babe just wanted to see what u up to?
I just came back from ohio wanted to see you
Missed u like crazy lou
Louis??
I know you don’t have classes on Friday after three
Are you training lou?

When his phone chimes again, Louis groans. What is so hard to understand when someone is screening your calls and messages? Clearly, he isn’t in the mood to talk to anybody. Or, more specifically, he isn’t in the mood to talk to Harry.

I’m coming over, Lou, the last text says, and when Harry uses his commas and capital letters, you know that he is being serious.

Louis isn’t in the mood to fight with him, though. He’s had a very long and exhausting practice yesterday, and Griffith made them watch the game and discuss where it went wrong. Which was kinda hard to do because, like, everything went wrong all the time. They just couldn’t find the right pace, and Louis kept messing up his passes, and it was pitiful altogether, but Griffith showed no mercy.

Demotivated, hungry and annoyed, Louis didn’t want to deal with his stupid boyfriend right now.

Don’t come over, he sends back a little too late. I’m feeling poorly.

Harry doesn’t answer, but it is also an answer, in a way, because Louis can see that he read the message almost immediately.

Harry, I’m being serious, Louis warns. I’m not letting you in. Turn around and go home.

Harry leaves him on read again, and it irritates Louis even more. Well, at least now he is kinda ready to fight. Harry knows how to push his buttons, that’s for sure (in a lot more than one way, but it’s neither here nor there).

Harry doesn’t knock, but he never knocks. He doesn’t need to because he has the keys, which Louis gave him after they had been dating for seven months. He regrets it very much at this point. (He regrets it now, but boy, how he enjoyed the consequences before whenever Harry would wake him up with slow kisses and sloppy morning blowjobs).

“Lou,” Harry says, staring down at him, “what is up with you?”

Louis crosses his arms, huffing.

“What is wrong with me? You knew I had an important game on Thursday, and you couldn’t be bothered to fucking text me then? So tell me, please, why do I have to indulge you now?”

Louis, Zayn, Niall and Liam all live in a dorm with four bedrooms, one bathroom and a kitchen connected to their living room. It’s not awfully spacious, but they make it work. Niall, who works at the flower shop, constantly brings all kinds of plants and flowers home, and as much as Louis hates watering them, he allows it as long as Niall lets him name the plants.

Right now, Louis wants to grab Kevin (a San Pedro cactus sitting on the windowsill) and shove Harry in the face.

“Stop looking at Kevin like you wanna do something,” Harry says, offhandedly, and takes a few steps towards Louis. “I’m sorry, baby, I really am, for not calling ya. The guys and I went out, and I forgot my phone at the hotel.”

“And, of course, you couldn’t come back for it,” Louis says sarcastically, pursing his lips together.

“As a matter of fact, I couldn’t. We went to the club that was like forty minutes away from where we were staying. Luke wanted to see some kind of drag queen show, so he made us all dress up and buy stupidly expensive passes.”

“Right,” Louis says without any emotion.

“I saw the game,” Harry tells him, worrying his lip. “I asked the bartender to open our YouTube channel, and they did an online stream of the match.”

“Yeah, I know, I was there,” Louis says dryly; Harry sighs.

“I’m sorry that y’all lost, baby,” Harry drawls, raw and honest. “You deserved to win.”

“We were absolute shite,” Louis mutters, shaking his head. “I played horribly, and Griffith should’ve taken me off the team the minute I started fucking up.”

Harry frowns and takes Louis’ hands in his, almost tentatively.

“You’re insane, Lou. You are a wonderful player. How do you say it? Brilliant,” he says in his worst British accent, making Louis chuckle. “Fucking amazing, Lou. You are one of the bests out there, with Ronaldo and Messi.”

“You are such a shit-talker, Styles,” Louis mutters, rolling his eyes fondly. “You can’t seriously compare me to any of them. You know nothing about football, and this is embarrassing.”

“Not as embarrassing as your game that night,” Harry jokes lamely, and if it were anybody else, Louis would have gotten upset all over. But this is Harry, his boyfriend, and Harry might understand very little about football (at least Louis taught him to call it its rightful name over the years), but he never stops telling Louis how amazing he is, even if he can’t make it to the game.

“Fuck you, Harry Styles,” Louis says, pushing Harry’s chest with his fists. “How are you going to live with yourself if I tell you I played like shit because you weren’t there?” he asks quietly, and Harry narrows his eyes.

“Just to clarify: what was your excuse before you met me?” Harry grins, and Louis smiles at him against his better judgment.

“Harold, dear, if you want me to forgive you, perhaps you should stop insulting me and start sucking me off, yeah?”

Harry nods eagerly, pulling Louis closer.

“I missed you so much, baby,” he drawls, his accent deeper than usual. “Can’t wait to take you to bed and ravish you all night long to show you exactly how much.”

“Go ahead, cowboy,” Louis smirks, biting his lip. “But be advised: I haven’t been fucked good and proper in a whole bloody week. You’ll have to be gentle.”

🏈

Every Saturday afternoon, ESPN and ABC come down to the University of Michigan and bother everybody around the campus.

Louis hates this aspect of the game possibly more than he hates the game itself, and he does hate American football quite a lot. The only reason he ever sits through a single match (is it called a match?) is his boyfriend.

Harry is probably a very good player. Louis doesn’t really know. He doesn’t understand the game sixty-five per cent of the time, and because he attended nearly all of them in the past four years, one might think he is fucking daft. But it’s just that—

Louis sincerely has very little idea as to why American football is so bloody popular since no one else in the world plays it. It’s dangerous, it’s messy and ugly. Harry has bruises and scratches all over his body, and to some, it might be hot and a turn-on, but Louis just feels like a total arsehole when he as much as hugs his boyfriend.

Louis goes to the games for two reasons: Harry and Niall. Niall plays in the marching band (because of course), and he is always there before every game. And where Niall is, that’s where Zayn is, and where is Zayn, there’s Louis, and Liam is just... Like, seriously, Liam isn’t going to be home all by himself. Besides, he loves to cheer other people up. Also, he is actually an American, so he understands the rules and instructs Louis when to be sad, anxious or happy.

There are, of course, bigger problems than a bunch of students, journalists and the general crowd that wants to ogle Louis’ boyfriend.

It's Nick Grimshaw and his radio programme called “The Station.” Like, please. He might as well have called it “Campus Waves” or “The Coffee Frequency”. If there’s one thing Louis understands less than the flag obsession and world’s best claims on every little thing, it’s Nick Grimshaw’s tendency to make everything he touches cringeworthy and hipster-y.

“Hey, Lou,” he smiles brightly, fixing his quiff for probably the hundredth time today.

“You know they don’t really show pictures on the radio these days, Grimmy?” Louis says cheerfully, still in a pretty good mood, considering that he has to endure anywhere from three to four hours of the madness today. He would much rather stay at home and play FIFA with Niall. Or even Scrabble with Liam. Or get high with Zayn and talk about the meaning of everything.

Maybe he should get high next time he has to sit through a bloody (American) football game. Maybe then he will tolerate Nick a bit better.

“You should know better than anybody that you must always look your best on national TV, Tomlinson,” Grimshaw shoots back. “Or one of your boyfriend’s fans might assume that you are no longer a competition.”

“There has never been any competition, love. Harry is mine, and it’s not up for discussion,” Louis says dryly.

Nick nods along.

“I just wouldn’t like to be one of the people who actually fell for your varsity star boyfriend,” he hums thoughtfully. “It’s enough to see you together once to understand that there’s no hope for anybody else. The way he looks at you…” Grimmy shakes his head. “Some might say it’s almost inappropriate.”

“He can look at me any way he wants to look at me,” Louis deadpans. “It only means he has great taste in men.”

“That he does,” Nick grins and repeats, “That he does.”

“Look—”

“By the way, good game last night, Tommo,” Nick says, uncharacteristically softly for himself. “You did well out there. Completely made up for that fiasco on Thursday.”

“You saw the game?” Louis asks, shocked. “I didn’t know you liked footie.”

“I go to every game,” Nick says evasively. “You know, to support my team and everything.”

Louis frowns and nods, puzzled.

“Um, okay. Thank you?” he offers, still confused. “I’ve got to go. Need to find my mates.”

“Tommo?” Nick calls when Louis takes a few steps away.

“Grimmy?”

“Just so you’d know, I think you deserve to be with someone who shows up for your matches, too. Relationship is a two-way street,” he says and turns to his assistant, ignoring the bewildered look on Louis’ face.

🏈

Louis is used to attending the parties that Harry’s fraternity throws after the win just to be entertained by his friends almost exclusively.

Even though his boyfriend doesn’t seem to actively choose to stay away from Louis, it just happens. Someone wants to play beer pong or do the keg stand. Or Harry’s brothers start exchanging hilarious stories about… something.

It's not like Louis and Harry are very different. They are both hard-working, athletic, funny and well-liked. But their definition of leisure is nearly opposite. Harry prefers a get-together that involves beer, laughs and stupid challenge games. Louis likes quiet time with his best mates, alternating between video games, Scrabble and Uno!

Occasionally, Louis likes to go out, of course, but he doesn’t do it as often as his boyfriend.

When Harry gets drunk, he gets very handsy, and it’s something Louis has very strict rules about —having sex under the influence. They have sex quite often, and it’s not something Louis has ever been ashamed to admit. Harry isn’t his first boyfriend, but they have been together long enough to have learned each other’s bodies like their own by now.

Still, Louis was raised differently. There is a certain limit to how much Harry can drink for Louis to be okay to fuck him, and when Harry celebrates their team’s win, he generally tends to go way over.

Louis knows that Harry won’t ever feel like Louis is taking advantage of him when he is intoxicated, but it just never feels right to sleep with Harry when he is not completely responsible for his body. Sex is about feeling everything, not being numb to half of what you are supposed to be feeling. And sex with someone you’ve been with for three years isn’t just about sex anymore — it’s about love and trust.

So when Harry starts grinding against him and leaving sloppy kisses down Louis’ neck, it becomes an issue.

“Come off it, Styles. You are battered,” Louis mumbles, getting annoyed. He is not nearly as plastered as he’d like to be, and his boyfriend now is a mess of lanky limbs and bad tequila breath.

“You know, Lou, three years ago these words wouldn’t make a fucking sense to me,” Harry says, voice muffled. “You and your Brit words, I swear.”

“That’s how everybody speaks in the UK, love. Better get used to it now,” Louis grumbles, wrapping his hand around Harry’s waist as he carefully helps him upstairs to Harry’s room.

“Yeah, yeah...” Harry shakes his head. “Remember the first time you took me to London?”

“You looked like a deer caught up in the headlights,” Louis chuckles, a sweet memory of Harry meeting his family making Louis’ heart swell.

“I loved every minute of it,” Harry confesses quietly. “It was a lot of fun, Lou.”

“We’ll have a lot more time to have fun in London, babe,” Louis promises.

“I was thinking we should invite my parents with us next time,” Harry says suddenly as Louis opens the door to the biggest room in the house — as a frat President, Harry has the luxury of living alone and in private.

“Wh-What?” Louis asks, bewildered. “You mean, like, for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Harry drawls. “I bet they’ll love Donny.”

Louis bites his lip.

He supposes Harry and he have always been serious. Since the very first time Harry came to talk to him and they flirted shamelessly, it’s been clear that they were in it for the long run.

“I like you, and I want to date you,” Louis told him after the fifth time they had a get-together. “But I don’t do casual relationships. If you’re interested in that, I’d rather we be friends.”

Harry looked at him studiously and shook his head.

“I might need a bit of guidance, seeing that you’re my first real boyfriend, but I like you, too,” he drawled, voice deep and words honest. “I want to date you, Louis.”

They were fast friends and fast lovers, fitting seemelessly in bed. Everything was easy with Harry, and Harry made him feel like he meant business. He took Louis to his parents’ for the winter holidays in San Antonio just a few short months after they got together, and they later spent the whole of June in Miami, where Harry’s family had a house.

The following academic year, after Louis returned from England, he asked Harry if he would like to visit him in London and Donny sometime soon.

Now, three years into the relationship and having talked about their future together, their families have yet to be introduced to each other.

“You want to take your parents and Gemma to London with us this year?” Louis repeats carefully. “It’s a big step, innit?”

“Not as big as moving to another country,” Harry retorts, and Louis suddenly feels as sober as he’s ever been.

“I suppose so,” he agrees slowly. “Maybe we should discuss this move over Thanksgiving,” he offers, effectively ending the conversation. “Now, cuddles and sleep?”

“Or I can blow you,” Harry says, unashamed.

“Hazza,” Louis frowns. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah?”

“Why do you have to be so stuck-up?” Harry mutters, taking off his clothes. “No one ever has any issues doing it drunk but you.”

Louis purses his lips together.

“I know you don’t really mean to sound insensitive, but you’d better stop before we start fighting about it,” Louis warns, stripping his own clothes as well. “Being respectful doesn’t equal being stuck-up,” he says patiently. “Only because your ex-partners or your brothers didn’t care about actual consent doesn’t mean I don’t, either.”

“But you are my boyfriend, Lou. Surely you wouldn’t do anything to me you wouldn’t do when I’m sober,” Harry says, convinced, and Louis can’t help but feel an ache in his chest.

“My sweet summer child,” he whispers, kissing Harry on the temple, “I would never hurt you willingly, but I care about you, and I want you to remember every single time I show it to you by making love to you, okay?”

Harry looks at him for a moment, eyes wide open, and then nods.

“Okay, baby,” he obeys. “Can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and get stuffed full of your dick.”

“My cock and I will be happy to oblige,” Louis muses, getting under the covers.

“Lou?” Harry calls when Louis hugs him from behind.

“H?”

“I love you,” Harry says, voice quiet and subdued. “You are so good to me.”

“You deserve someone who is good to you, always, Harry.”

“I know, but you are just… like, the boy of my dreams. And so pretty, too, it hurts.”

Louis giggles and kisses Harry again, this time on his bare shoulder.

“Babe, you are the most handsome man I have ever seen. People throw themselves at you.”

Harry hums noncommittedly.

“You know they don’t have a single chance with me when there’s you living at the same time with me, yeah? No one exists when there’s you.”

🏈

“Don’t tell me that he isn’t here again,” Zayn says, his whisper almost a hiss, and Louis sighs.

“He has practice,” he shrugs. “It’s fine. It’s just a rehearsal.”

“It’s not just a rehearsal, Lou. It’s the final rehearsal before the premiere on Saturday. For fuck’s sake, even Niall is here. He asks for permission to skip his dance class to be here.”

Louis touches his neck with his fingers and tries to anchor himself.

It is true, and Zayn is right. It’s the final rehearsal of She Kills Monsters, which Louis absolutely loves this year. They will perform the play twice a month up until Christmas, and all the proceeds from the tickets will go to the charity: Louis’ Athlete Allies united with the Drama club, The Curtain Call Society, to secure the funding from the university for this year’s plays.

It’s still early November, but Louis’ schedule is tight because, in addition to everything else, Louis’ football team earned their spot in the NCAA National Tournament. It’s a single-elimination, and the stakes are high, but Louis is confident they will at least get through the first two rounds. The football (soccer) team has to hold practices every day, and juggling theatre, sports, actual classes and Harry is getting harder and harder, but there isn’t anything else Louis would rather do, and he is happy he has so many great opportunities.

“Bro, you are literally involved in seven hundred different activities, and Harry only has to play football and pay some of his attention to you once in a while,” Zayn notes dryly, clearly unimpressed by Louis’ lack of reaction. “I think you should talk to him.”

“We’re fine. He’s fine,” Louis insists. “He also works hard, you know,” he adds, almost defensively.

“He works hard on avoiding you when you’re not fucking, you mean,” Zayn shoots back immediately, which makes Louis believe he has all sorts of snoddy comebacks armed and ready in advance.

“You just don’t like him,” Louis says, and there’s nothing much Zayn can say to defend himself. Because, well, he has never claimed to actually like Harry. And Louis can understand why.

Harry seems aloof and carefree to someone who doesn’t know him. Harry comes from a wealthy family that sells real estate all over the US. Harry’s mum is a former supermodel, and Harry’s father used to have his own food network before he sold it to some company for millions of dollars. Despite having everything and everybody at his feet, Harry is very grounded and humble. He doesn’t look down on people and is always ready to help. He listens and hears, and he knows what to say to make Louis feel better.

Zayn confuses Harry’s devil-may-care attitude and sees it as recklessness, lack of any serious intentions, while, under the surface, Harry is just as broody and full of doubts as Zayn himself. They even listen to the same Indie music, for fuck’s sake, and they like the same shows and have very similar outlook on life, which is why Louis was attracted to Harry in the first place — he saw an opportunity to make another best mate, but while there was absolutely no sexual tension between Louis and Zayn, Louis and Harry felt like a match made in heaven.

So when Louis’ best mate actively dislikes Louis’ boyfriend of three years, it makes him upset. It’s something you can’t get used to.

“Just try with him, Zaynie,” Louis pleads for the millionth time. “He’ll be at the play tomorrow. Sit with him, okay? I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you actually get to know him.”

“Babe,” Zayn frowns, “he’s had three years to get to know your friends. I don’t see much effort on his behalf, and I’m not going to indulge him.”

“Don’t indulge him, then. Indulge me,” Louis asks, voice soft. “You know me, Zayn. I wouldn’t fall in love with a bad person, would I? If I’m telling you that Harry is a good lad, you have to trust me.”

“I don’t know, Louis,” Zayn mutters, pursing his lips. “I don’t think he deserves you.”

“Zayn...” He sighs. “I love him, and we aren’t going to break up any time soon. He’s moving to London for me once we graduate. You surely can’t think he’s doing it just because.”

“I’m not really sure what to think,” Zayn says truthfully. “I understand that your relationship with Harry is very different from mine and Niall’s, but I know you, Louis. This isn’t you. I can tell that you love him, and I know you buy all his excuses, and some of them are, like, okay,” he admits and cringes nevertheless. “But I can tell that you expect so much more from him.”

“He has a lot on his plate, Zayn,” Louis frowns, suddenly feeling more upset than he’s ever been about this situation. “You can’t expect him to show up for every little thing in me life.”

“No, actually, I can. You should, Louis,” Zayn says, voice firm. “Because you show up for him, and you have more on your plate. Your practices are way more intense than Harry’s this time of year, and you still find time for him. He only ever comes over to fuck you and eat our food.”

“What’s your point, Zayn?” Louis snaps, annoyed. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I just don’t want you to get your heart broken when, by the end of the year, Harry tells you he’s changed his mind and actually doesn’t want to move to England. Or worse yet, if he tries to guilt-trip you into thinking you’d fit better in America,” Zayn says, crossing his arms, annoyed.

“So I can follow you here, but if Harry offers me to stay for him — which, by the way, he has never even hinted at — then it’s suddenly a problem, yeah?” Louis bites back, face red.

“Yes,” Zayn says, cold and angry. “Because you and I have been friends for twenty years, and you’ve known Harry for three. You are barely boyfriends, Lou. At this point, you are each other’s hookup call, and nothing else. He has his own life, and you have your own. The only thing you have in common right now is your shared orgasms.”

“Why do you have to be so mean?” Louis exclaims, feeling his cheeks getting hotter and his eyes watery. “You are supposed to support me!”

“Louis, I know it’s hard to hear right now, but you’ve got to get your head out of your arse, mate. You can do better than Harry Styles.”

“Fuck you, Malik.” Louis blinks at him, shaking his head furiously. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. Just go home, alright? I don’t need your support right now. Go and snog your perfect boyfriend because, apparently, you know better than everybody else!”

🏈

The rehearsal is a mess, and the only reason Louis didn’t mock it all up is that Ed nicely asked him to stay the fuck away from the stage unless it’s his turn to get on it.

Which is why he spends almost the whole first and second act complaining to Liam, who came in a little late after his swimming session and missed the spectacular blow-out for which, in Louis’ humble opinion, Zayn is the only one to blame.

“Who does he think he is? Only because we’ve been mates for a good part of our lives doesn’t mean he can tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pacing around the changing room.

“You mean, for your whole life,” Liam corrects him, ever so fair. “Didn’t your families used to be neighbours?”

“It’s beside the point.”

“I know how much you don’t like hearing when we talk to you about Harry,” Liam says, calm and even. “But sometimes love is blind, Tommo. We just want the best for you.”

“Do you seriously think that Harry is such a terrible person?” Louis asks, desperate.

Liam levels him with a look.

“No, I don’t. I think he’s a good guy,” Liam shrugs. “A little too obsessed with being liked, but who can blame him? He was born to be a star.”

“So what?” Louis demands curtly. “Why is Zayn being such a hard arse about me going out with him?”

“Because you aren’t just going out with him,” Liam explains, patient and understanding, like he’s talking to a child. “You love him. You are planning on moving together to London, Lou. You know who does that? People who think they are going to spend the rest of their lives together. So far, you’ve put way more effort into being with Harry than he ever has, and that’s the reason why we are all so wary of him. He never stays to spend time with us, and we are your closest friends.”

“He’s just not very good at getting close with people,” Louis shrugs. “He doesn’t have any best friends, Liam. He’s not like me. He might seem like the life of the party, but he doesn’t actually share his personal problems with his so-called brothers. He is a nice lad, and he is always ready to help out and let others lean on him, but he doesn’t let people into his life easily.”

“It doesn’t matter that it might be uncomfortable for him,” Liam says, voice soft. “If he loves you as much as you believe he does, he’s going to have to be at least friendly with us, Lou. He comes over, fucks you and runs back to his fucking frat house. Why do you need someone who isn’t capable of having fun with your best friends?”

“He is awkward around people,” Louis tries, and Liam scoffs.

“More awkward than Zayn? Dude, Zayn literally spilt the drink on this guy from Econ class because he was trying to convince him that Indian and Pakistani are the same ethnicity.”

“Well, he is more, like, awkward with his words?” Louis frowns. “He makes terrible puns and the stupidest jokes when he’s nervous or trying to make a good impression. He addressed my father as dude once, Liam, because he was so fucking terrified he wasn’t going to like him.”

“I don’t know why you’re arguing with me, Louis,” Liam says finally, shaking his head in disappointment. “In the end, it all comes down to whether you can take a good look at yourself and admit that Harry is a hundred per cent in this relationship, or he just chooses to be with you because you are a good fuck and laugh.”

🏈

“I, um, I think we have a problem,” Louis says, fingers beating a nervous drum on the wooden table.

They are at Harry’s frat house the very next day. It’s a couple of hours before the premiere of Louis’ play, and he is supposed to be at the theatre and refreshing his lines, but he is still pretty upset about his fight with Zayn, so he never came back home last night, opting to stay over at Harry’s.

“A problem? What is it, baby?” Harry asks lazily, yawning. They are lying in the bed under the covers, having just gotten out of the shower together. “You’re ready to tell me what you fought with Zayn about?”

Louis bites his lip and nods, unsure.

“We fought about you,” he says slowly.

Harry gawks at him.

“What? Zayn and I literally never interact. What can he possibly have against me?”

“That’s kind of the problem, Hazza,” Louis shrugs. “Zayn is my best mate, and you and he aren’t even on each other’s radars.”

“Wait, does it bother you? That we ain’t friends or something?” Harry asks, and he sounds genuinely puzzled.

Louis narrows his eyes.

“What do you think, Harry? You think it bloody bothers me that my best mate in the entire world, for whom I moved to a different fucking country, doesn’t like my boyfriend, presumably the love of my life? Nah, not even a bit,” he says sarcastically.

Harry blinks at him.

“He doesn’t like me?” he repeats, voice suddenly quiet. “I mean, I knew Zayn wasn’t my biggest fan, but I just thought that’s part of his charm or whatever. I didn’t know he didn’t like me.”

Louis sighs.

“Look, you getting along with Zayn and my other friends is a deal-breaker,” he says after a small pause.

“What are we, high schoolers?” Harry scoffs, affronted. “We are adults, Louis. I don’t have to be friends with your friends for us to be together.”

“Are we even together, though?” Louis asks, and Harry looks at him like he is an idiot.

“And what did we just do in the shower? Was it a one-off or something? Do you go to frat houses and fuck their President every other day or what?” Harry asks, voice thin, and Louis glares at him, annoyed. “We are boyfriends, Louis. We are in a committed relationship.”

“Being in a committed relationship isn’t only about getting off together,” Louis snaps, losing whatever patience he had left. “It’s about spending actual quality time together. So far, I’ve been spending it with me roommates. At this rate, I might as well start dating Liam. At least he shows up for my rehearsals.”

“You knew I was busy with football, not just fucking around,” Harry points out, frowning.

“I know, but you could’ve been there if you wanted to. Surely Coach would’ve let you skip one practice. Your thing isn’t more important than mine.”

Harry stares at him, confused.

“I’ve never said that it was, Louis,” he reasons. “But why do you make it sound like I should’ve sacrificed my career just to be there for your rehearsal? I promised to show up for the real thing, didn’t I?”

“That’s exactly the problem. Everything is a real thing to me, Harry. I know how busy you are, I truly, really do,” he says hotly. “But you know how taxing this part of the year always is for me, H. I play twice as many games as you do, and I have practices nearly every bloody day. Still, I get myself together and go to your games, and not because I am expected to, but because I want to.”

“Louis,” Harry frowns deeper, “you always knew that football is an important part of my life.”

“Well, do you still expect to play American football when we move to England? You know that you’ll have to apply your actual degree, right? Business and Management?”

Harry swallows, suddenly silent. Louis’ face falls.

“Spill it,” he orders, having an ugly feeling churning in his chest.

“So, you know how the scouts have been coming over to watch the games?” Harry starts, worrying his lower lip.

“Harry,” Louis says, dropping his head to his chest. “Are you fucking serious?”

“It’s not…” Harry sighs. “They offered me a position with the Green Bay Packers after graduation.”

“Green Bay Packers?” Louis repeats dumbly. “What the fuck even is it?”

“It’s, uh, they are in Wisconsin,” Harry explains patiently. “Remember we drove by it when we went to Minnesota to visit my aunt last year?”

“You want to live in fucking Wisconsin?” Louis says, dumbfounded. “Are you mad?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to,” Harry notes patiently. “Only that they offered the job to me.”

“When?”

Harry looks at him sheepishly.

“Last year, after that huge game that we lost in March. They said I played fantastically and showed outstanding leadership skills even when losing.”

Harry takes a small and probably unconscious step as if he’s getting ready for Louis to hit him.

“You slept on it the whole summer and didn’t tell me anything?” Louis asks, voice muffled. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to fight with you over it!” Harry exclaims, losing all of his previous cool. “I needed time to think for myself, Louis.”

“Think about what? Are you seriously considering moving to bloody Wisconsin?” Louis asks, frustrated, confused and hurt. “I thought you didn’t want to play football on a professional level!”

“Well, so did I! But I love the way I feel when I play, Louis, and I can’t just dismiss the idea of—”

“The idea of fucking up all of our plans,” Louis supplies helpfully. “When were you even going to mention it?”

“When I made the decision!” Harry snaps, making Louis freeze.

“When you made the decision,” he repeats dryly. “What the actual fuck, Harry?”

“It’s my life, Lou,” Harry says weakly. “I wanted to know what I really wanted first, alright? Because I knew the moment I told you, you would guilt-trip me into staying and doubting myself.”

“Guilt-trip you?” Louis says slowly, eyes wide open in shock. “You told me you wanted this. I didn’t ask you; you told me you wanted to move to London with me,” he says, almost hysterically. “And now I am the bad person all of a sudden? You are the one who lied.”

“I didn’t lie, Louis,” Harry says, voice strained. “I needed the time to decide for myself.”

“It’s been months, Harry. How much more fucking time can you possibly need?” Louis asks, incredulous. “How could you hide something like this from me? What, did everybody know but me?” Louis’ face changes as soon as Harry doesn’t deny. “Wait, is that why your mother kept telling me about how great America is and that he would just love it if I stayed here? Did you already accept the offer?”

Harry glares at him.

“What? Fuck no, Louis, are you even listening to me? I don’t fucking know!” he yells, and Louis crosses his arms, visibly displeased.

“Well, you’d better figure it out, then, because I’d really like to know if I just wasted three years of my time and breath on you,” he spits out and immediately regrets it. Harry gapes at him, looking incredibly hurt.

“Get out of here,” he says, shaking his head and pointing at the door. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore, Louis. We’re done.”

“Wh— You can’t just kick me out!” Louis protests, but Harry comes to the door and opens it widely.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Harry repeats, voice shaking. “If you think that you might have wasted three years of your precious life loving someone who your friends so clearly don’t like, then I’ve got nothing to talk to you about anymore.”

“Hazza, look—” Louis starts, feeling massively guilty for his previous words, but Harry purses his lips and makes a gesture toward the exit.

“Go home, Louis,” he says tiredly. “Don’t make me call the campus security, please,” he adds in an emotionless tone. “Right now, you are fucking trespassing.”

“Go fuck yourself, Styles,’ Louis bites back, grabbing his rucksack from the floor next to the bed and marching out the door.

🏈

Despite a massively terrible morning, the day is somehow even worse. Louis heard that phrase, it has to get worse before it gets better, but it’s like...really? Much worse?

But, apparently, people who said that comfort kills creativity were right. Because, as incredibly upset, heartbroken and angry as Louis is, he still delivers a remarkable performance.

And before Zayn, Liam, or Niall can interrogate him, he flees.

The day settles heavily on his shoulders when he is sitting on the bench at one of the parks near the campus. He feels horrible. He feels lost. He isn’t sure what to do, and all he wants is to go to Harry, hug him and forget about their fight.

It isn’t possible, though. They can’t sweep it under the rug. It’s not something they can ignore until it disappears because it won’t. It’s something that their future together depends on, and Louis is feeling way too emotional to deal with any of this mess with a cold and reasonable head.

Right now, he chooses to be angry at Harry.

How could he have kept it a secret for so long? It’s already November, and he has known since March. They spent the summer together. They fucked so many times Louis couldn’t count even if he tried. They said I love yous even more often. They actively talked about their life together in London and looked at some of the flats over there to have the general idea of where they wanted to live. Louis was looking for job offers, and Harry’s father told them about a few of his friends hiring people with Harry’s degree and minimal experience.

He just couldn’t believe Harry would hide something like this from him.

Of course, football was important to Harry, and Louis could understand it. Soccer was important to him, too. But one thing is to play something in college or uni, and it’s a completely different story to make a career out of it. Did Harry want to be famous? Make millions? Be an influencer? Or just be noticed? He did like to be the centre of attention, it’s true. Louis just never thought that he’d—

And why couldn’t Harry share these things with him? Wasn’t it the point of their relationship? To be there for each other?

It was a well-fucked situation altogether. Louis knew, as much as it hurt his pride, that moving away from his family for Harry would be heartbreaking. Louis himself couldn’t imagine moving to America, even for Harry. He loves his family too much, and living in a different country from his six siblings is literally killing him.

Harry is a family man, of course, and he has a great relationship with his parents, but his sister is older and hasn’t lived at home for years, and neither has Harry. Moving, of course, would be difficult for him, but he never planned to stay in Texas anyway.

When Louis’ phone vibrates, Harry’s name is the last one he expects to get a message from, and he feels an odd unpleasant feeling in his tummy, unlike any other time when Harry texted him.

Harry xx:
Just wanted to let you know that I saw the play, and you were really great, as always.
To be clear, I didn’t come because I wanted to, but because I promised you I would.
Please don’t worry about answering this. I know you must have more important matters to attend to, since you so foolishly wasted years of your life, evidently.
To be completely honest, I’m not sure where we go from here, and I don’t want to deal with it right now. I think it’s best we take a break from each other and cool off.
Have a good day and celebrate, Louis. You deserve it.

Louis rolls his eyes, considerably more annoyed than before. Harry never writes using proper punctuation, and this alone makes him irritated. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing when composing these little messages.

Louis knows how Harry gets when he is upset. Normally sweet and cheeky, Harry transforms into a sarcastic arsehole who always wants to leave the last word. Essentially, he transforms into everyday Zayn, which is why it’s a massive fucking shock they haven’t gotten along like a house on fire. While Zayn’s first instinct is to use sharp words and tell others exactly what he thinks of them, Harry doesn’t want to appear rude unless it’s absolutely necessary. Louis knows it’s because Zayn couldn’t care less about what people think of him, and Harry wants to be a nice and respectful person.

And it fucking stings. Louis is supposed to be the mad one. Harry is wrong on so many levels. He was the one who hid such a big thing from Louis and didn’t think to tell him sooner. It’s not like it is something unimportant. They are well into November at this point, and graduation is literally a few months away. It would be fucking nice of Harry to mention it sooner. Preferably, right after it fucking happened.

You know I’m not even sure what we’d talk about honestly if you didn’t mean for me to find out in the first place, Louis shoots back, frustrated.
I suppose it’s not like you’d care what I think regardless since I’m only going to guilt-trip you into doing something you don’t really want to do.
I just can’t help but think that maybe it applies to me as well though. Did you not want to date me maybe? Here I am sitting and making plans about our future when you quietly sit and think of yours.
Well done Harold.

In hindsight, Louis could have been a bit more understanding. It’s not Harry’s fault that Louis doesn’t see sport as his career. Louis thinks of the theatre and what it means to him and how it would feel to lose this part of himself as he grows up. He can imagine how hard it might be for Harry to stop playing football when he’s been doing it his whole life — when he has been so successful at it. Louis knew that he was approached by the scouts during his first and second years, but it was out of the question for Harry: he came to study and then play sports. He was just lucky enough to have been good at football, that's all. But recently, it didn’t feel like it was all there was to it. The way Harry talked about playing for — what was it? Packers? — like he was proud to have been chosen, like he wanted it, almost. Is Louis just holding him back, then? Does Harry actually want to be a superstar and play football on a professional level? Does he want to move to fucking Wisconsin and leave Louis behind?

Is it fair of Louis to ask him to change his life around and go to London?

I’m sorry that I thought I would feel bad about not coming to your play. Obviously, you’ve been busy obsessing over things I didn’t actually say, Harry sends him back, making Louis fume. How dare he? Who does he think he is? Is he seriously going to send passive-aggressive texts like a fourteen-year-old? God knows it’s Harry’s first serious relationship, but he’s always been bright enough.

Louis:
Look who’s talking about things they didn’t say. What gives Styles?
I am so upset with you right now Harry why are you being so immature?
We clearly need to have a conversation and talk this out.
Why don’t you cool off and let me know when you are ready to discuss our future like a grown man you claim to be.

Louis always considered himself a nice person, but something about the way his boyfriend seemed so effortlessly mean... it just rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t want to fight with Harry. Logically, he knew that it takes two to tango, but he was just so mad.

When you react like this, how did you expect me to talk to you about any of this in the first place? he gets in response.

And he has about a thousand replies ready. He is witty, and he is great at shooting straight and being sassy. But being this way with Harry of all people just feels wrong.

The truth is, he loves Harry. Zayn might not understand it, and it’s fine. Louis doesn’t owe anybody an explanation as to why exactly he loves Harry or chooses to be with him. At the end of the day, Harry is someone Louis wants to share his life with, even at a young age. And he cares for Harry and his well-being, so whether he is ready for it or not, they are going to have to set their difference aside and have a mature conversation.

At the very least, they’d have to break up amicably.

🏈

“I hope you are fucking happy,” is the first thing Louis tells Zayn Monday night when he visits him at the tea shop he works at. It’s not busy this time of the night, and Louis has a habit of showing up right before closing so he can get all the free pastries he lays his eyes on and make Zayn brew him some good-quality tea he wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford.

“Is this still about Harry?” Zayn asks, voice disinterested.

Louis rolls his eyes.

It’s been about two weeks since he and Harry exchanged harsh messages and had any contact whatsoever. Ever since then, Harry has been screening Louis’ calls and ignoring his texts. Louis wanted to show up at the frat house and make a scene, but his pride wouldn’t let him.

Still, it didn’t mean that Louis had to be quiet about his feelings.

“Of course, this is still about Harry,” Louis groans, frustrated. “You didn’t think it’d just go away in the matter of two weeks, didn’t you?”

“It’s only been two weeks? Christ, I feel like we’ve been talking about this for at least two months.”

Louis knows that Zayn isn’t actually upset with him for bringing up Harry. If anything, Zayn is even sympathetic. He doesn’t complain when Louis goes behind the counter and starts mixing his favourite flavours of tea to put in the pot to start steeping, and he lays a chocolate croissant on the paper tray for Louis to eat. That’s how Zayn shows that he cares about Louis, and it’s only making Louis sadder.

“I just don’t understand why he keeps avoiding me,” Louis mutters, frustrated. “I used to see him every day of my life, and I haven’t seen him in weeks, Zaynie. I fucking miss him.”

“I’m sure he misses you, too,” Zayn says, suddenly compassionate. “Niall says he’s been a mess. Liam went to the game they had on Saturday, remember? It was, apparently, a disaster.”

“It’s not making me feel better. It only means that he’s just as devastated as I am, but he isn’t willing to do anything about it,” Louis points out. “Does it mean that we are broken up?” he asks, unsure, and Zayn sighs.

“I don’t know, babe,” he says honestly. “What exactly did he tell you?”

“He said he wanted to take a break,” Louis reminds, frowning. “But it’s been so long ago.”

“So, um, do you want to stay with me and Ni for Thanksgiving, then?” Zayn offers, biting his lip. “We made a reservation at that restaurant we went to last year, but I’m sure we can change it to the party of three.”

Louis groans again.

“The Rivalry Week is coming up.” He shakes his head. “Harry will be stupidly busy with football.”

“His parents are still flying over, though?”

Louis winces.

“They always do. His mum was so excited about this visit... Wanted me to take her to all my favourite museums and art galleries. Fuck.” His breath hitches. “What if he did break up with me?”

“Lou—” Zayn starts, but Louis just purses his lips.

“Niall is friends with everybody. Did he hear anything about Harry seeing someone else?” Louis asks, voice small.

Zayn doesn’t meet his eye. Louis swallows thickly.

“It’s not... It’s just a rumour, Lou,” he warns, biting his lip. “Someone saw him dancing with that Polly girl from his Econ class at their last frat house party.”

Louis scoffs.

“Bastard.”

“It’s just a rumour,” Zayn repeats softly. “I’m sure it isn’t exactly how it happened. And even if it did... Look, I know how much you love him, and maybe I will sound like a fucking arsehole, but maybe you should talk to him about that before drawing any conclusions. Because from what Liam told me, he’s been fucking defeated.”

“Well, he’s hiding it very well by literally ignoring me,” Louis sneers, and Zayn frowns deeper.

“Look, I... I know I said some unkind things to you about your boyfriend, but I didn’t actually mean for you two to break up. I hope you know that. I just... I guess I just wanted to see that someone you love can love you back just as much, is all.”

Louis sighs and nods.

“I know,” he whispers. “I am not mad at you, of course. I’m just really upset, you know. I miss him so much. I can’t remember the last time we spent so long apart... Maybe just the first summer after we started dating, but even then, he flew to London to see me.”

Zayn bites his lip.

“Do you want me to try and talk to him?” he asks suddenly, and Louis glares at him.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I care about you, Lou, and if it really is the end, then you deserve to know.”

🏈

Louis feels absolutely exhausted. After the footie season is as good as over, he doesn’t have a lot of things to do until January. They have some games here and there, but practices won’t be as intense anymore: for now, he can focus on his classes and his personal life (or lack of it).

It’s two days before Thanksgiving, and at this time of day, Harry’s team usually has heavy practice with pads, which leaves everybody bone-tired.

It’s Tuesday when Louis’ phone lights up and shows that Anne is calling him.

As soon as Louis met Harry’s mum, they had this instant connection that one can only dream of when being introduced to your boyfriend’s family. Anne is British, much like Louis himself, and she moved from Cheshire over forty years ago with her parents. She barely has any accent, to Louis’ dismay, but she says it always makes her think of home when she talks to Louis.

“I just hope that when you and Harry are ready for kids, they will have your accent,” Anne told him once after they had too many glasses of wine.

“I can promise you that,” Louis assured her, his heart swelling.

Louis has always been a mummy’s boy, and he has no shame about it. But talking to Anne right now just...feels so heavy. It’s one thing to be fighting with Harry, but confronting his (ex?) boyfriend’s mother is a bit too much.

“Hullo,” he says, voice muffled. “How are you doing, Missis Twist?”

There’s a small silence, and Louis sighs.

“Mister Tomlinson,” Anne says curtly. “Haven’t we talked about it, honey? You call me Anne, alright?”

“It’s just...” Louis frowns. “I don’t know if Harry told you...” He trails off. “M’not sure I should be calling you Anne right now,” he says, unsure.

Anne snorts.

“Please, Lou. Whatever you’re fighting about, it’ll pass, I just know it.”

“Harry didn’t tell you, then?” Louis asks, and Anne clicks her tongue.

“Not explicitly. To be completely honest with you, I’d hoped you’d made up by now. You know, with it being Thanksgiving and everything.”

“He, um, he doesn’t want to talk to me,” Louis complains, suddenly feeling like he can talk to her about it. “I was— I said some unkind things to him,” he admits.

“Did you mean it?” Anne asks immediately, and Louis falters.

“I can’t say I have, but I also can’t say that I haven’t,” he says truthfully. “Harry told me about the offer he got from, um, Green Bay Packers? I mean, he made it sound like I was forcing him to move to London, and I got defensive.”

“Oh, darling, I was pestering him about telling you about it the whole summer. I’m sorry, sweetie, but I hope you understand that it wasn’t my place to tell you that,” she says, and she sounds sincere.

“I don’t blame you for it,” Louis shakes his head. “But I just— I mean, it’s our last year. He’d been sitting on the news for months. What am I supposed to feel?” he asks genuinely, and Anne hums in response.

“Listen, I am around the campus right now,” she starts carefully. “I just walked with Harry over to the stadium, and he’s off to have his practice for a few hours. If you’d like, we could have lunch together?”

“Um.” Louis clears his throat. “Sure, that would, um, be okay, I think.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, Lou,” Anne warns him, voice soft. “I just want to make sure you are doing fine.”

“I’m fine,” Louis lies automatically. “Ugh, I am not, I guess. Not really. Everything’s a mess, and I just—”

“Lou, darling, you don’t have to be alone right now. I know that you and Harry aren’t exactly talking right now, but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you anymore. It also doesn’t mean that I don’t love you anymore. You are a family, honey, whatever happens between you and Harry, I promise.”

“There’s a nice café five minutes away from the dorms,” Louis says, voice thin. “I’ll text you the address, okay?”

“I’ll see you there, sweetie.”

🏈

The café is nearly full, but they manage to find a vacant table in the very corner as soon as they arrive. Louis orders for both of them at the counter, insisting he pay, and Anne argues with him for just a little bit. Admittedly, allowing Harry’s mum to cover the bill would be a smarter thing to do, seeing that they were millionaires and everything, but Louis couldn’t let his (ex?) mother-in-law pay for his tea and a sandwich.

“So,” Anne starts when they get their drinks and food, “talk to me, Louis. How have you been, honey?”

Louis shrugs warily.

“Tired,” he admits. “’ve been trying to focus on my classes mostly, but I guess I’m prone to overthinking.”

“It’s alright,” Anne smiles softly. “It’s not a bad thing. What were you thinking about?”

Talking to Anne is a lot like talking to Louis’ own mother. She is soft-spoken, understanding and emotionally mature. Louis appreciates a smart woman when he sees one, that’s for sure.

“Maybe I wasn’t the best boyfriend to Harry if he had the need to hide this from me,” he says slowly, eyes focused on the mug of tea in front of him. “Maybe I should’ve listened better to whatever he wasn’tsaying, you know.”

“He should’ve told you,” Anne says simply, surprising Louis with her reaction. “Look, Harry is a good boy, and I am proud of him. I get that he was trying to figure the stuff out for himself first, but he took it too far. Also, he should have realised it wasn’t only about him anymore. When he told you he’d move to England, when he decided to commit to it, he should’ve thought twice if he wasn’t sure.”

Louis’ heart aches at that. He doesn’t want to believe that Harry didn’t actually mean it. Did Louis pressure him into leaving his life behind without meaning it?

“Harry is in love with you, sweetheart,” Anne says quietly. “He is head over heels for you. He’d do anything to stay with you.”

“And why don’t you hate me for it, then?” Louis asks dumbly. “I was going to take your son away from you, Anne. Why are you being so supportive?”

Anne looks at him with visible sadness and stays silent for a moment.

“You know why I married Harry’s father, Louis?” she starts quietly. “He was my first boyfriend, you see. I was madly in love with him. He wasn’t all nice to me, though. He left out snappy comments about my family and suggested I lose some weight from time to time. I knew he loved me, but I was always so... I’m not sure how to explain it. He didn’t make me feel good about myself.” She frowns slightly. “We got reckless one night, and I ended up pregnant with Gemma. I was only seventeen when I had her, and we decided to get married because it was the right thing to do.”

“You got married when you were seventeen?” Louis asks, shocked. He can’t imagine being tied down to someone so young.

“I wasn’t, like, a wedding or anything. We went to the courthouse, exchanged rings, and that was it. We fought all the time and were generally miserable. He started drinking heavily, and I had to carry the whole household on my shoulders. Two years later, I went to the same courthouse to ask for a divorce, and when he found out, he, um, he asked for the very last chance, and that’s when we had Harry, also by accident.”

“Anne,” Louis frowns, “this is honestly very depressing,” he drawls, making the woman chuckle.

“It was,” she agrees. “I felt so hopeless. I— I knew I wanted to keep the baby, but I couldn’t keep the husband. I loved him even then, even when I knew he wasn’t right for me. I was immature and foolish, and I didn’t get lucky when I met him.”

“Look—”

“You are nothing like my first husband,” Anne interrupts him. “When Harry told me he met a boy in his very first week, I was so concerned. I thought, what kind of eighteen-year-old would be good for my son who had just begun exploring his sexuality? And then he talked about you every time he called, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was making you up. You were so gentle with him, Louis, the way I had never been treated when I was younger.”

“I was his first boyfriend,” Louis shrugs. “Surely I couldn’t have been a prick to him.”

“Oh, but you could’ve, and he’d still loved you to pieces,” Anne shakes her head. “You left quite an impression on my son, Louis, and you left an impression on all of us, frankly.”

Louis stares at her, unsure of what to say. He knew Anne liked him just fine, but he didn’t know that she cared so much for him. It felt...overwhelming.

“It’s been three years, Louis, and I’d like to think that I know you pretty well by now,” Anne says, voice soft. “You aren’t taking him away from me, honey. Harry has grown up, and as much as it hurts me to imagine when he leaves for another country and starts building a life there, things could have been much worse. He is happy with you, and you are happy with him. That’s all I can really ask for.”

“He isn’t happy with me, apparently,” Louis argues. “I’m not even sure if we’re still together, if I’m being honest. He hasn’t been returning my calls or messages, and I feel like I have the same right to be mad at him as he is at me, but... I mean, I can’t not try, you know?”

Anne smiles at him.

“Sweetie, you will find your way back to each other. It’s just a spat, not the end of the world. It may seem big right now, and don’t get me wrong, it is big because the decision is going to affect your whole life, but I’m positive that you and Harry can figure it out. I have complete faith in you two. Also,” she cocks her head to the right, “you are still expected at Thanksgiving dinner.”

🏈

Harry texts him for the first time in almost three weeks on Wednesday morning. Louis frowns, reading the message, and doesn’t know how to feel about it.

“We’re having a get-together with the team at four, at the coach’s house. If you don’t have other plans, you are invited.”

It isn’t exactly a heartfelt invitation, so Louis just swipes left and squeezes his eyes shut.

He is used to waking up to different kinds of messages from Harry if he’s being honest. Shirtless. Standing in front of the mirror. Lying naked in bed and wanking off. In the shower with three fingers up his arse and mouth sinfully open. Not this. What even is this? Did Harry want him there? Was he trying to extend an olive branch? If so, he’s doing a shit job at it.

“Griffith invited us to the diner by the campus so we could celebrate as a team,” Louis shoots back after a while.

“What time?” he gets an immediate response that makes him frown.

“Around two.”

“If you didn’t want to come by, you could have just said so, Louis. It’s fine if you don’t care anymore,” Harry texts him curtly, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Who do you think you are?”
“You are the one who’s been ignoring me for weeks Styles.”
“It’s not my fucking fault that I spent more time hanging out with your mum than with you.”

“You went to see my mom?”

“Is that all you gathered from what I’ve said?”

“You are being an asshole, Louis.”
“I needed time to think, and you can’t blame me for being hurt by your words.”

“You know full well that I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Actually, no, Louis, I don’t know.”

Louis rolls his eyes so far that he is afraid he won’t be able to see straight again.

Instead of typing out another passive-aggressive (or, at this point, just aggressive) message, he rings Harry up.

“H,” he breathes out when Harry (probably, reluctantly) picks up, “this is a nutter.”

Harry clicks his tongue, clearly unimpressed.

“Not sure what you are talking about, Louis,” he says, tone even.

“You can’t get mad at me because I had made plans long before you invited me,” he says as patiently as he can. “That’s immature.”

“Whatever, Louis,” Harry says, and Louis groans.

“You are so frustrating, Styles,” he complains. “What’s gotten into you lately? Why won’t you pick up my calls, love? I miss you, I worry about you, about us,” he says, sincerely and quietly. “When will you be ready to talk to me, darling?”

“I wasn’t aware that was something you did not say,” Harry says coolly.

“You know, what? If you’re going to act like this, I don’t even know how to talk to you anymore. I tried reaching out, and I tried giving you time and space, but you clearly want to keep being a fucking child. So have a good day, wanker,” he says and hangs up, fuming.

Harry is just so frustrating. Louis tried having a civil conversation with him, and Harry just keeps being rude to him. He doesn’t actually say anything of use, just being childish with his comebacks. They could have gotten this sorted out a long time ago, and Harry is being a massive arsehole.

Naturally, Louis didn’t expect to see Harry after their fight or, if he’s being completely honest, any time soon.

When Liam screamed Louis’ name from the living room, he assumed it was because he had forgotten to take out the rubbish or something like that.

So seeing Harry awkwardly standing near the kitchen counter is a bit odd.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks coldly, crossing his arms.

“’Ve come to talk,” Harry says, brows furrowed.

His shoulders are slouched, and he looks much smaller than he actually is because of it. It rubs Louis the wrong way. He sighs.

“You wanna cuppa?” he offers, pursing his lips together so Harry would know exactly how much of an inconvenience this conversation is to him.

“Please,” Harry smiles sheepishly. “I wanted to bring you some cookies that I made last night, but I was half-convinced you’d throw them at me.”

“The chocolate chip cookies?” Louis asks slowly, and Harry nods.

“Yeah, your favourite. I was stressed out and thinking about you,” he confesses quietly. “Look, Lou, I’m sorry. I am not actually mad at you or anything. I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t know how to talk to you about everything that’s happened. I knew you’d want answers, and I don’t think I have them yet,” he says honestly, and Louis feels his anger disappear.

“Harry,” he croaks, “it’s alright. I mean, if you don’t know, then it’s alright,” he repeats, turning on the kettle and taking a carton of milk out of the fridge. “I am not angry at you because you don’t know. I understand that it must be hard.”

“You do?” Harry asks, eyes wide open. “But I thought—”

“I love you,” Louis speaks over him. “I want you to be happy with your choices, even if it means a bit of uncertainty for, um, us. If moving to London isn’t actually what you want, then I can’t make you want it.”

“I want it,” Harry says, raw and honest. “But I kinda want to move to Wisconsin, too,” he adds, not meeting Louis’ eye. “I don’t know what I want to do, Lou. I can’t have both dreams.”

Louis swallows thickly and sighs.

“You don’t have to know right now,” he says quietly. “Take some time to think, okay? This decision can wait a bit.”

“And what about you?” Harry frowns. “What about us?”

Louis bites his lip and shrugs.

“And what about us? You still have my heart, Harry. I’m not planning on giving up on you. But if you choose to stay in the States, I can’t— I know it’s not fair of me to not even consider staying here while you have to make the toughest choice of your life, but you know how much I love my family. I miss them so much, Harry, every day, and I can’t imagine spending another year away from them, even—”

“Even for me,” Harry supplies in a sad voice, but he doesn’t sound spiteful. “I understand, Lou,” he nods. “I’m sorry that I have to put you through this, honestly. I— I thought I didn’t want this, didn’t want football to be my career, but... I can make so much money and play the game that I love. I know how important footie is for you, but it’s just a hobby to you.”

Louis wants to argue and say that he spends a lot of time practising and puts a lot of effort into staying fit and capable, but Harry knows that already. Harry is right. For Louis, it’s just a hobby that allowed him to get a scholarship and get into a good uni. For Harry, it’s his lifestyle.

“Okay,” Louis nods. “I get it, really, I do. I’m... I’m not sure what you want to do from now on, but, like, I wouldn’t want to spend whatever time we have being cross with each other. I miss you, Hazza. You are my best mate, and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Harry says and then frowns. “Look, I’m— Like, can we talk, yeah?” he asks, unsure, and Louis nods and gestures him towards the sofa.

Clearly uncomfortable, Harry sits down on the end, and Louis slides next to him, like he’s done it a million times before.

“So, I’ve been thinking about what you told me,” Harry starts slowly. “About what you told me about Zayn and your other friends,” he explains when Louis looks at him quizically. “You are right, Louis, I should have put more effort into our relationship, and I will, I promise.”

“You what?” Louis asks, puzzled. “You’ve been thinking about it?”

“Of course, I have, baby,” Harry sighs. “I don’t want to make you feel like we’re just fuck buddies ‘cause we ain’t,” he drawls, making Louis’ heart swell: he always gets a little turned on when Harry’s accent gets especially heavy. “You mean a lot to me, and I want to show it to you. If I have to get out of my comfort zone for anybody, then I’d rather it be for someone who’s worth it.”

“Love,” Louis smiles softly, “it’s so bloody nice to hear that, you can’t imagine. I’m sure you’ll make fast friends with the lads in no time.”

🏈

How can one force a frienship? It is something that should come naturally, and the whole ordeal makes Louis question his own sanity. Or, to be more precise, his friends’ and his boyfriend’s brain function.

After an admittedly bumpy start to the holiday week, Harry managed to warm his way into Louis’ Thanksgiving dinner thrown by Coach Griffith, and then later he convinced Louis to join him for his own coach’s dinner. Which wasn’t something Louis had never done before: everybody on the team knew who Louis was, so Harry was almost expected to have a plus-one.

And while superficial and hollow relationships are Harry’s forté, it doesn’t quite work this way when you want to make actual friends with somebody.

So on Friday before the big game, Harry stays over at Louis’ dorms and makes dinner. Unlike literally anybody else save for Niall, Harry knows how to cook without setting the place on fire, which, in Louis’ book, makes him husband material (which he immediately tells Liam, who just shrugs and waves him off, continuing to observe Harry fussing over his baked goods).

“I, um, I know it’s a bit late for that,” Harry starts when everybody takes their seat at the small dining table (Louis is practically sitting on Harry’s lap while Zayn is balancing on top of Niall’s, and it’s all very cosy and homey, and Louis wants to remember this night forever). “But I wanted to say some thank-yous. " It’s been brought to my attention that I haven’t been the best around y’all,” he gestures in the direction of Louis’ friends. “And while I didn’t think it was a big deal, I guess it was.”

“Sounds like you put a lot of effort into having to deal with us,” Zayn supplies dryly, and Louis kicks him in the shin.

Harry bites his lip, clearly nervous.

“I, um, I have, actually,” he nods. “It can be hard for me to form actual deep relationships with others, so... like, I’m trying.”

“Well, I, for one, am hungry,” Niall says a bit too cheerfully to pass for sincere, but Louis will take whatever he can get. “Let’s eat, lads.”

“This smells amazing, Harry,” Louis smiles, and Harry beams at him.

“Yeah, thank you for cooking the dinner,” Liam stammers awkwardly.

The first dinner is odd. They don’t talk much. Harry makes a few especially terrible puns, Zayn lets out a series of sarcastic comments, Niall tries to talk about American football and doesn’t fail too badly, Liam talks to Harry about the latest Olivia Rodrigo album, and Louis mostly just remains quiet. They then watch a movie, sprawled on the sofa, and at the end of the night, Louis invites Harry to stay, provided he won’t leave later.

They have breakfast in the morning, and it’s a lot less awkward than dinner. Louis counts it as a win. He makes sure to show his gratitude when he and Harry shower together.

“You trying is so, so important,” he tells Harry when they walk together to the football field before the game. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. But can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Louis bites his lips.

“Why didn’t you do it before? Like, why didn’t you try being friends with my friends before?”

Harry doesn’t answer for a moment, thinking.

“Um, honestly?” He shrugs. “You know how hard it is for me...” He frowns. “Lou, you make fast friends with everybody. You were randomly assigned to a room with two dudes, and now, three years later, you call them your new best friends. You show up from the other part of the world, join a soccer team and become their captain within a year? Like, c’mon. No one can resist your charm, baby. People swoon over you, fall over backwards. Take me, for Christ’s sake. I wanted to be a fucking player before I met you. I went to uni, and I thought I’d fuck everybody before I settled down. I had one conversation with you, and I was done for.” Harry shakes his head. “I don’t know why you’re with me,” he confesses. “You are smart and capable. You always show up for your friends, and you are so freaking amazing. I guess I was just worried that if I put effort into being friends with your friends, they won’t like who I really am and tell you to stay away from me.”

Louis looks at him, taken aback.

The thing is, he understands Harry’s point of view; he really, truly does. Harry might be his fraternity President, might be the football team’s captain, but deep inside, he is still an odd man out. He is charming and sweet, but he doesn’t like to share any personal stuff. He doesn’t even have a best friend, let alone best friends. He has some people from his hometown, San Antonio, whom he texts sometimes, but these are very shallow interactions. When he has something that’s bothering him, he talks to Louis, or his mum, or Gemma.

“Babe,” Louis starts, voice soft, “you are so wrong about everything, honestly. You are, like, the best person I know. You are so nice and gentle, and you make me wanna never let you go. You are everything I’ve been looking for. My friends... they are just people, too, Haz. And they’ll love you if you give them a chance, I promise. It’s not going to be easy, but it won’t be very hard, either.”

“But they probably hate me anyway,” Harry mutters. “They know about our fight, don’t they?”

Louis nods, feeling a bit guilty.

“They are my friends, H,” he reasons. “But they understand, also. I mean, Ni is going to move halfway across the world, too, and he’s done it once already when his family moved from Ireland. He already has a job in London, and the firm is going to pay to relocate him in the summer after graduation.”

“Lou,” Harry frowns, “I’m sorry I can’t give you an answer right now, baby. You deserve to know.”

“I know you aren’t doing it out of malice,” Louis says softly. “It’s hard for you, too.”

“I just can’t imagine waking up and not seeing you ever again,” Harry confesses, eyes sparkly with tears.

They stop by the bleachers, and he takes a seat on the steps. Louis sits next to him, gingerly placing his hand on Harry’s back.

“I can’t, either,” Louis admits, voice quiet. “But if you have to choose between me and your happiness, then...” He shrugs. “M’sorry, Harry, I can’t make the decision for you, darling.”

“But I love you so much,” Harry says as if it changes anything, and, gods, Louis wants it to be a deal-breaker, but he can’t have this kind of power over Harry.

“I know you do,” Louis nods. “But this isn’t everything.” He gestures between them. “We aren’t everything. You aren’t enough to stay for me, and I can’t be the only reason for you to move to England,” he says, voice shaky. “It fucking sucks,” he admits, feeling tears coming down his cheeks. “I wish we could have made it work. Maybe we can,” he tries. “Maybe you can sign a contract with these Green Bay Packers, and then... I mean, if you like it, you stay.”

Harry winces at that.

“Lou,” he calls, voice hoarse, “baby, it’s a four-year contract. I can’t ask you to do long distance for four fucking years. You are so young, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“How ‘bout you let me decide what I want and don’t want to do?” Louis snaps, frowning. “You know you can’t make me do something.” He sighs. “Why don’t we drive to Wisconsin over the weekend and see the place?” he offers, unexpectedly even for himself. “It’ll give you a clearer picture. You can meet the coach and the team, talk to them, ask questions. Maybe we can even see a game.”

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Harry tries, but Louis shakes his head.

“I want you to make an informed decision. Look, I... I’m not going to lie and say that it’s easy, and I can’t fathom the idea of leaving without you, let alone never seeing you again, but I... I can’t be the only reason for you, Harry. I can’t have you despising me in the years to come because I stood between you and your dream. I’m doing it for both of us. To give us a fighting chance.”

Harry nods and wraps his hands around Louis.

It’s breaking Louis’ heart to know it might be their last autumn together.

🏈

The trip to Green Bay is almost ten hours. They switch driving every now and then, and Louis appreciates the silence when Harry falls asleep on their seventh hour. He decides not to wake Harry up and let him rest for the remainder of the way.

They have a meeting with the team manager and the head coach scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and Harry has been excited. He’s been trying to be subtle about it, though, obviously for Louis’ sake, but Louis tried to be as encouraging as he could, even if it was breaking his heart a little.

This choice isn’t a fair one, and Louis knows it. How can Harry be asked to choose between him and the career he’s been dreaming of since he was a kid? He’s been playing football his entire life. He loves the game, and he’s good at it. He can be the person who changes history.

But it’s not fair for Harry, either. Louis is set on going back home, and he never even entertained the idea of staying in America. Sure, he can teach anywhere in the world where they speak English, but his family won’t be there. Even a three-hour commute from London to Donny is going to kill him, let alone a fifteen-hour one. Even if he could afford the flight every other month, he wouldn’t have the luxury of time. It simply won’t work.

He talked to his mum last night for two hours, and he cried for most of it. Then he found Zayn, cuddled with him and cried some more.

Not seeing Harry again was a thought that physically hurt him. But he couldn’t choose him over his family... Yet, he wanted Harry to choose him over his. Selfish child. He was ready to take Harry from home and claim him, but he wasn’t willing to do it himself.

He tried to cover his puffy eyes in the morning, but Harry had seen him cry lots of times. He didn’t comment, but his hugs were longer than usual, and he kept his hand on Louis’ knee almost all the time throughout their drive.

They arrive in the city at five in the morning, the sun barely starting to rise. Louis leaves Harry sleeping in the car while checking them in — a courtesy of the Styles family, a five-star hotel if Louis has ever known anything but, seeing that Harry’s parents paid for their every trip and vacation.

He collects two keycards from the reception, gives the butler their luggage and wakes Harry up, gently kissing him on the forehead.

“We’re here, love,” he whispers, tagging on Harry’s curls. “Up, H, let’s go. We’ll get you into a comfy bed, okay?”

“We’re here already?” Harry repeats, sleep-hazed. “Why didn’t you wake me up, Lou? You must be exhausted.”

“M’fine, babe,” Louis chuckles, taking Harry’s hand to help him out of the car. “I’ll get some sleep, too.”

They get to their room in silence, Harry’s almost dozing off against the lift’s doors. Louis holds him by the arm, guiding them both through the hallways.

They sleep until three, out like a light, and Louis wakes up to a faint smell of something sweet.

There’s a bouquet of roses on the table next to him, and he hears the water in the shower running. He stretches and, having successfully located a bottle of watermelon-flavoured lube in his backpack, joins Harry in the shower.

It’s going to be a great day.

🏈

They spend the rest of the day sightseeing, eating and taking pictures. Louis fairly enjoys the city, and everybody has been nice and polite so far.

As much as it pains him to actually talk about the possibility of Harry joining the team, he can’t avoid it.

“It’s the only NFL team that is owned by the public,” Harry tells him over lunch they have at one of the local cafés. “Over half a million shareholders. No single owner. It’s basically football democracy.”

“So, no billionaire overlord?” Louis asks, confused. “That’s sick, H.”

“The team is freaking amazing, and their head coach is a legend, Lou. He has one of the highest winning percentages in Packers history. He’s, as you would say, brilliant,” he jokes, but it sounds a bit strained. He doesn’t seem very comfortable discussing it with Louis, and it’s obvious.

“I know it’s hard, Harry, but let’s forget for a moment about everything and just enjoy this little getaway?” Louis asks, taking his hand and lacing their fingers. “I know you have to make a major decision about your life, but please, don’t let it dampen the mood. I want you to be happy, and I want you to enjoy this trip. I want to know things about this team and this place, Harry, because it’s important to you. Does it suck that we have to go through it? Yeah.” He shrugs. “But I love you, and I want you to think this whole thing through. That’s why we’re here. Nothing has been decided yet. You’re just being smart about it.”

“I just feel like I have no right to enjoy being here as much as I do,” Harry admits, voice quiet. “Like this place is going to take you away from me.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Louis says firmly. “Whatever happens between us, nothing and no one will be able to do it, darling. I will always love you, Harry, whether we will be together or not.”

“It’s just... there’s no winning for me,” Harry sighs. “I’ll either lose you or my dream career. It’s very depressing.”

“It is very depressing,” Louis admits and then smiles. “That’s why we aren’t going to think about it anymore, deal? You have to make the decision, sure, but you have to promise me to enjoy every little moment we have together.”

“I love you,” Harry says instead, and it sounds like a promise.

For now, it’s going to have to be enough of a promise for Louis not to run for the hills, trying to heal his broken heart.

He stays.

🏈

“How was the trip, then? You liked the city? How’s the coach? The team?” Zayn asks over breakfast on Monday, lazily chewing his Cocoa Puffs. “Did you meet everybody?”

“Lovely. Everybody was lovely, honestly,” Louis says, and he finds himself telling the truth. “The town was nice, and we went to the game, and they won. It was really, really nice,” he admits, slow and thoughtful. “I think Harry liked it a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Zayn says quietly. “I know it’s not something you expected.”

“No, I... I’m glad that he—” Louis shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I’m glad he liked it,” he repeats, voice shaky.

Zayn walks up to him immediately and wraps his hands around Louis.

“You can be honest with me, babe,” he promises. “How are you actually feeling?”

“I hate that he liked it so much,” Louis admits, sobbing. “And I hate that I liked it, too. It would be the perfect team for him. Honestly, they are all so sweet, and they didn’t even bat an eye when Harry introduced me as his boyfriend. Everybody was so accommodating, and even their manager seemed nice. They answered all of his questions, showed him around, we talked to a few players and even their star quarterback, who, by the way, took us to a bloody dinner with his wife. Fuck.” Louis squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t know what to do, Zayn. Should I stay in the US?”

Zayn stares at him.

“Do you want to?” he asks carefully. “What’s in here for you except for Harry?”

“What’s in London for him except for me?” he parrots, desperate. “It’s either him or me who has to make the ultimate sacrifice, or we’ll just lose each other.”

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’ve got more to leave behind,” Zayn says, voice quiet. “Your entire family is in England. Gemma moved out ages ago. If Harry stays in the US after graduation, he will live by himself. He doesn’t have any friends, either. He’ll be all alone.”

“But he’ll make friends,” Louis says, convinced. “The lads from the team seem like good folk. I’m sure he’ll be happy with them.”

“Louis, you are the love of his life. There’s no decision. He chose to study business for a reason. He can do whatever he wants with his life in London. His parents are loaded. He can buy anything, do anything. He can play other sports, but in London.”

“I can’t ask him to do that,” Louis says, eyes burning.

“You didn’t, babe. He offered,” Zayn reminds, firmly. “Remember when he told you almost four years ago that he’d move with you? He should have thought twice then.”

“I know,” Louis nods. “But it is what it is, Zee. I... I guess I’ll have to think about staying here in case he decides to accept the offer.”

“You can’t be serious. You can’t stay here.”

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Louis snaps, pursing his lips. “Either break up with the love of my life or...” He stops abruptly. “I don’t know what to do, Zayn.”

“What does Jay say?”

Louis sighs.

“Say it’s not fair for me to ask Harry to move across the world without even considering it for myself. Which is a load of horseshite, honestly. She knows how much I miss home and love my siblings.”

“But you love Harry, too,” Zayn replies. “And she loves him.”

“I think he asked her blessing to marry me one day when we went to Donny this summer,” Louis whispers as if someone can overhear them. “Daisy told me she heard them talking about it, and she could just be pulling my leg, but knowing Harry... I mean, how am I supposed to go from almost being proposed to this?”

“I don’t know, Lou,” he says, and he sounds upset. “Maybe talk to him? You know he loves you, so... Maybe just be honest with him?”

“I don’t want to make him feel worse than he already does. I mean, he has to make such an important decision.”

“Well, so do you.”

“I know, just... I want some more time with him,” Louis admits, feeling desperate. “As much as I hate not knowing, I would hate not being with him even more.”

🏈

“So, um, we have three options here,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “Break up, do long distance or move to either London or Green Bay.”

Lottie nods patiently, taking a sip from her coffee cup. It’s an early morning in Manchester, where Lottie has been living for the past couple of years. She is having breakfast before her first class. After she’d graduated from school ahead of schedule, having passed her A-levels at fifteen, she got admitted tuition-free into Manchester University to study Cosmetic Science.

Louis loves talking to all of his sisters, but Lottie is the one who can relate to him the most. Even though she isn’t living too far from home, she’s building a life for herself in a different city, and she’s been dating her boyfriend, Cooper, for almost a year now, so things are getting more serious day by day.

“Break up sounds fucking terrible,” Lottie says when Louis doesn’t continue his thought.

“It is,” he admits, biting his lip. “When we were fighting about the whole thing and it felt like it had been over... I almost lost my bloody mind, Lots.”

“Long distance sounds even worse, though,” Lottie says, carefully, and Louis nods. “You sure you wanna consider it?”

“I want to consider all viable options,” he confirms, something clenching in his chest. “But you are right. I love him to pieces, but long distance is going to slowly kill us. Seeing him only a few times a year when I haven’t spent a week without him since we started going out... I mean, our first summer together, when we’d only been dating for a few months, he flew to London just to see me. As much as I know he’d be willing to do that for me again, it physically won’t be possible. He’ll have games every week, and I will have my job.”

“Okay, so then moving to Green Bay or moving to London,” Lottie concludes, chewing her lip. “Either you sacrifice everything, or he does. Sounds very fucking sad. I don’t want to be a downer, but, Lou, everybody misses you here,” he says, voice quiet. “I hate saying this because I know how hard it is for you as it is, but... We were ready to welcome you back home this summer, you and Harry. Mum cleaned out your bedroom, bought some homecoming gifts for your and Harry’s flat. She didn’t want me to tell you, of course,” Lottie amends right away. “Everybody’s been excited about this Christmas being the last they ever have to pick you up from the airport. I’m sorry for saying this,” she shakes her head. “I’m sorry for being selfish. I just—”

“No, no, babe, you shouldn’t,” Louis speaks over her gently. “Fuck, I want to hug you right now,” he admits, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “I miss all of you so much, Lots. I am bloody grateful for this experience, for moving here, but I can’t... I mean, I’ve missed out on a lot. My babies are all grown up now. You are going to uni.” He smiles, albeit forcefully. “I can’t divide my heart and soul into two.”

“It’s not fair of Harry to consider this position,” Lottie says hastily before she can change her mind. “He’d promised you to move to England, and if he truly loves you—”

“That’s not fair to blame him,” Louis interrupts, voice firm. “He didn’t know, babe. He didn’t know he was going to want it.”

“I’m sorry, Lou, but he should’ve at least considered it. Communicated better with you. A few months before graduation, when you had already made plans and told everybody about them, he decides to go ahead and ruin everything.”

“I-I know.” Louis takes a deep breath. “But I still love him, and I want him to be happy.”

“Even if you have to break up,” Lottie finishes for him, sighing.

“I just want him to be happy,” Louis repeats, and he means it.

He wanted different things, too. He wanted his experience at uni to be different. He wanted to fuck around, meet lots of boys, maybe make out with some girls, too. He wanted to be careless, take tests while hungover, smoke lots of weed and not care about his grades for the first few years.

Meeting Harry changed everything. Changed every little point on Louis’ list.

Meeting Harry made him a better person.

Loving Harry made him the best version of himself.

Being loved by Harry made him feel unstoppable.

Even when Louis’ friends disliked him, Harry was still the best person. Flawed, just like any other, he made Louis feel protected, secure and adored. Harry was confident in their relationship, always held Louis’ hand and told him how amazing he was. Harry, freshly out of the closet, was ready to shower him with love and admiration. He had so much love to give. Louis was his first real friend, and Harry took care of the people he loved.

“I’m sorry, Lou,” is all Lottie says, taking another sip of her coffee. “I wish I could give you better advice.”

“I don’t think anybody can, really,” he shrugs.

“What does Mum say?”

“Follow your heart, blah-blah-blah.” Louis rolls his eyes. “She wants me to be with Harry, I think. She knows how much I love him. But I can also tell that it’s breaking her heart a little, too.”

“I mean, I’m sure Anne would be heartbroken, as well,” Lottie offers, and Louis hums.

“She’s actually... I mean, she’s been really nice to me, all things considered,” he shares. “We’ve been talking a bit in the past few weeks, and she’s been very supportive. She doesn’t want us to break up, either.”

“You think she knew Harry was going to ask you to marry him?”

“She is his best friend,” Louis shrugs. “I’m positive he had at least hinted it. I’m just... I can’t be thinking about marrying him when I don’t even know if we’re going to be together in a couple of months,” he says honestly.

“But you’re still coming home for Christmas, right? You’ll finally meet Cooper, just like I promised. He’s joining us for a few days. He’s celebrating Christmas at ours, and then he’s going to drive back to London to do New Year’s with his family.”

“But you’re staying in Donny, right?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lottie smiles. “I don’t get to see you very often, and I’d hate to leave you. Cooper and I can always go to London and see his parents. Besides, I miss Harry, too.”

“Yeah, I...” Louis stutters. “I have to go, Lots,” he says hastily, looking at the clock. “Harry’s supposed to meet me downstairs in five. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Lou,” Lottie calls, biting her lip, “you have to fight for your love, do you hear me? I know I might have made it worse, and I don’t want to guilt-trip you, but you do what’s best for you. We can always come visit if you decide to stay in the US. Paying for our tickets is the least Harry will be able to do.”

“I... I don’t know what to do,” Louis says honestly. “It’s all very frustrating, and I just can’t fucking sleep through the night anymore. I can’t stop thinking, what if today is the last time I see him, what if he breaks up with me, or what if he decides we are not worth it,” he rambles, biting his nails.

“Harry loves you,” Lottie says, convinced. “He wants to marry you, Lou.”

“He wanted to marry me,” Louis corrects, frowning. “Now... I mean, he didn’t know that he wanted to play football, and it’s changed for him, so... Can’t really blame him or be mad at him if he actually never proposed.”

“You have every right to be mad at him,” his sister argues. “He promised you he’d move to London with you, and now he isn’t sure he can do it. You can be upset about it. As a matter of fact, it’s something you should definitely talk about.”

“I don’t want to fight with him anymore,” Louis mutters, and Lottie shrugs at that.

“You don’t have to fight to be honest with each other, Louis.”

“I know, I... I just want a little bit of peace right now. Want to spend time with my boyfriend and don’t think about the future.”

Lottie sighs and nods.

“Text me when you know when you leave for England, okay? Can’t wait to meet Harry’s family.”

Louis smiles at her and nods in agreement.

“Talk to you soon, babe,” he says goodbye. “We’ll talk more when I see you, alright? Love you.”

“Love you, too, Lou. Take care.”

🏈

The week before the Christmas break is always the busiest, especially for Harry. Since this year they have been playing pretty well, they have a real chance to win the Championship. Much to Louis’ dismay, it means that Harry will only get about two days in Donny. He simply couldn’t take off any longer. With four practices a week, he is already skipping a few crucial ones, and since he is the captain, it wasn’t easy for him to persuade the coach to let him go even for that long.

If their team does well in the playoff semifinal, they will keep playing until mid-January. Last year, the team made it to the semifinals and lost to one of the rival teams. Harry was crushed, but it meant that he could spend two weeks in Europe.

Louis has a feeling that this time, Harry fully expects to win.

Maybe then he’ll realise that winning is all he ever wanted and the decision will make itself. Maybe then he will sign the contract with the Green Bay Packers and Louis will have to redefine his whole life.

They go to the party thrown by Harry’s frat on Friday, and Louis has a stern talk with his boyfriend this time.

“You can’t abandon me and only come kiss me once in a while,” he tells him, arms crossed. “If you come to the party with me, you stay with me. If you want to hang out with your brothers, I’d better stay home and study.”

“No, Lou, I... I want to spend time with you,” Harry says, voice quiet. “Of course, I’d want to spend time with you. Especially...” He doesn’t finish, but Louis reads it in his eyes, especially because we don’t know how much time we actually have left.

It’s hard not to demand answers right away, and Louis isn’t the most patient person, but he knows it’s hard for Harry to be this way. Louis knows that Harry loves him. He feels that love, despite whatever Louis’ friends might think. Harry is a good boyfriend, and he is genuinely trying to be better for Louis. In the past few weeks, he hasn’t sneaked out after the night spent together once, and he’s been trying to have breakfast with the lads every morning. Little by little, he is starting to participate in their conversations, too. It’s a bit awkward, and he looks to Louis for approval every time, but Louis can tell that his friends have started to like Harry.

All but Zayn.

Zayn is trying, too, and Louis is grateful for that, but Zayn is his ride or die. He worries about Louis and his heart, and he’s not going to accept Harry until he makes the choice.

The party is just like any other party Louis has ever been to. Loud, smelly and hot. There are keg stands, beer pong, all kinds of silly alcohol-induced games and dirty dancing.

Louis is nursing his fourth beer of the night while Harry is sticking to club soda with lime. Since footie season for Louis is as good as over, he doesn’t have to be a good boy anymore until he’s back to his regular practices well into January. Harry, on the other hand, has a training game tomorrow morning, so he has to stay sober and get some rest.

“So, um, I talked to Mum and Robin, and they suggested we take their private jet to London,” Harry tells Louis when they go outside to get some fresh air. “Gemma is going to fly from France, so she’s heading straight to Leeds, I think.”

“I didn’t know your family had a private jet.”

In all honesty, it’s a hard concept for Louis to grasp exactly how rich Harry’s family is. Surely, they are quite well-off, but Harry isn’t tainted by his parents’ wealth, and he takes his life and opportunities seriously, works hard and doesn’t slack off, unlike most of the golden kids Louis knows.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a conversation-starter,” Harry admits, almost shy. “I don’t ever use it, of course. It’s mostly for urgent business meetings and stuff, but since I’m not going to have a lot of time in England...” He shrugs. “It’ll save us some valuable time.”

“You’re staying with me, though, right? In my room?” Louis asks, frowning.

He realises that they didn’t talk about this particular thing. Of course, Anne, Robin and Gemma will stay in the hotel, since Louis’ house wasn’t big enough for fourteen people, but it would be a total kick in the arse if Harry chose not to stay with Louis’ family.

“Of course, baby. You don’t have to worry about that,” Harry says, firm. “It’s your birthday, Lou. Did you really think I’d want to be anywhere but with you?”

“But you remember the rules, yeah? No sex under my parents’ roof,” Louis reminds, interlacing his fingers with Harry’s.

“Not even a sneaky morning blowjob?” Harry teases, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

“We’ll have to make the most of what we have left here,” Louis shrugs, and he doesn’t mean it to sound as heavy as it does. “H...” he starts, but Harry interrupts him with a kiss.

It’s a nice and slow kiss. Harry cups his face with his two big hands, and they stay like this for a while.

The night is bright and snowy, and it’s not particularly cold, even though they are in the heart of Michigan. Huron River is brutal, and winters in Ann Arbor are not a walk in the park, but Louis is more or less used to it by now. Still, he probably won’t miss the bone-freezing temperature when he’s in London.

He briefly wonders what the weather is like in Wisconsin during winter, and then the kiss stops.

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Harry mutters, eyes studying his face. “I’m so very sorry I have to put you through this, baby. I didn’t mean to cause you so much distress.”

“I know,” Louis nods, freezing fingers intertwined with Harry’s. “I don’t blame you. I really don’t.”

“I wish it were easier,” Harry admits, and there’s an edge to his voice. “I wish I could somehow make it easier on you. Maybe I should just—”

“Harry, baby, take all the time you need,” Louis interrupts, speaking over him. Part of him is terrified that if he hears Harry denying Green Bay’s offer, he won’t be able to think clearly anymore. “I won’t blame you for either of your decisions, love. I hope you know that. It’s... I know it’s hard for you.”

“I love you so much, Lou. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Harry says with tears in his eyes. “You are just perfect.”

“Yeah, well... Love isn’t everything, Harry,” Louis says, and he doesn’t know if he’s lying or not. Because sometimes it feels like if he gets to love Harry and be with him, he can do anything. And the other times, he thinks about his career, how much he wants to be a teacher, shape up kids’ minds and change lives, and he’s back to square one.

“It feels like everything when I’m with you,” Harry admits. Louis doesn’t answer, and he continues, “I just want you to know that, like, wherever we end up a year from now, dating you was the smartest decision of my life. You might not know it, but I am a better person because of you, Louis. I met you, and I kept my focus on my studies and football. If not for you, I’d probably be doing a keg stand about right fucking now.” He chuckles sadly. “I only wish I’d put more effort into having a better relationship with your friends. But I promise I’ll try harder, okay? We can go find them right now if you’d like,” he offers softly, and Louis shakes his head.

“Not right now. Can we stay here for just a little while?” he asks, almost inaudible. “I kind of like it here.”

“But you are freezing,” Harry points out, smiling.

“It’s okay. I promise it’s worth it.”

🏈

The last night they spend in Ann Arbor is the first night Harry comes to watch Niall perform at the pub.

Zayn glares at both of them, unimpressed, but Louis is grateful that his friend doesn’t make any usual snarky comments.

They all sit in the big round booth and stuff their faces full of food: today was the last exam, and everybody is exhausted, sleep-deprived and hungry.

When Niall goes on stage, they get up to move closer. Liam videotapes the performance while Zayn makes heart-eyes at his boyfriend.

“Niall’s really good,” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear. “Can’t believe I’ve never heard him sing.”

“He’s brilliant,” Louis agrees. “He writes his music, too. Proper talented.”

“He wants to be a singer, then?”

“His dream is to open his own music academy,” Louis replies. “I think he’s going to do great.”

“Did you hear back from any of the schools you applied to?” Harry asks suddenly, and it’s the first time after their fight that he talks about Louis’ plans in London.

“Yeah, um. The academy I applied to sent me a job offer last week. I thought I’d check the place out when I’m in England. Lottie promised to take me there.”

“Can I... go with you?” he asks, reluctantly. “I... I mean, you went to Wisconsin with me, so it’s only fair.”

“Uh, sure.” Louis shrugs. “If you want to. We won’t have much time, though.”

“I really want to,” Harry admits. “Want to be there for you, Lou, always.”

“Okay, I’ll... I’ll write him an e-mail and ask to schedule the tour for Tuesday, then.”

“I’m sorry I can’t stay for the New Year.” Harry sighs. “I’ll miss you like crazy.”

“I’ll see you for your big game, okay?”

Harry snorts.

“There’s no guarantee we will make it to the finals,” he reminds.

“Of course, you will,” Louis argues. “And I will have to beat the reporters off with a bat.”

“It’s not baseball, baby,” Harry giggles. “There’s no bat.”

“I will get one just for defensive purposes.”

Harry laughs, wrapping his hands around Louis’ shoulders.

“I love you so much, okay?”

🏈

The day before Louis’ birthday and Christmas Eve, Harry drives them to London to visit the Willford Academy. Louis bites his nails nervously, clinging to the folder with his printed CV, even though he had already sent it to them months ago.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, baby,” Harry tries to calm him down, caressing Louis’ cheek. “They will love you.”

“You don’t understand, H. It’s not just any school.” Louis sighs. “Their staff has to do mandatory training on LGBTQ+ inclusion. They have one of the best theatre departments, and they partner up with the Royal Court and the West End. I can’t stress enough how important this place can be for someone who just wants to do drama and be their own person without judgment and fear. And if I stand even the smallest chance of being a part of it...”

“Lou, sweetheart, you have more than that. You’ve been the Athlete Allies President for almost three years now, and you have done an excellent job at that. You are more than qualified to teach these kids, I promise.”

Harry’s voice is calm, but Louis knows better. Harry is just trying to stay strong and supportive. What they don’t talk about is how this is going to affect their future together. It’s not something either of them is ready to discuss yet, and Louis’ heart pains at every attempt. Sure, he knows they will have to talk sooner or later, but right now... he wants to feel Harry’s hands on him, listen to his assertive voice and keep pretending like he isn’t about to make a life-altering decision.

The Head of the English Department herself is leading the tour. Miss Toweney is a petite woman with grey hair and a melodic voice. She shows Louis and Harry around, takes them to the dining hall, the library building, the science department and the stadium.

The Willford Academy is located in Hampstead, a wealthy borough of London that Louis never even dreamed of living in until he met Harry. Last year, they were browsing houses here, but he supposes it’s back to being an unattainable dream again.

“We also offer a one-off relocation grant,” Miss Toweney tells Louis when they are nearing the end of their tour. “I know you live in the States right now, correct?”

“Yeah, in Ann Arbor, Michigan,” he confirms. “My family lives in Donny, though, but only one of my sisters is going to move to London.”

“We also partner with local housing providers, and our teaching staff gets priority access and reduced rent. Unfortunately, we don’t offer on-site or school-owned accommodations for anybody but our pupils, but I can assure you that we will do absolutely everything to help you settle in. You will also be provided with a tube and a bus pass or a petrol allowance if you drive. More benefits will be listed in your contract should you choose to accept the job.”

“Housing won’t be an issue,” Harry says, frowning slightly. “But it’s nice to see that you take care of the staff. If I may ask a few questions?” he asks politely, eyes darting from Miss Toweney to Louis. “How much autonomy do department leads have over curriculum and productions? Because in a lot of fancy places like this, teachers are hardly allowed to think outside of the box. My parents tried to send me to a boarding school once, and it was one of the most ridiculous experiences of my life.”

Louis bites his lip, staring at Harry. He is still not sure if he has heard him correctly. Housing won’t be an issue. Why would he say that? He can’t just casually drop things like that. Surely Harry doesn’t think Louis will be taking Harry’s money if they aren’t living together. Or, worse, broken up.

Which he can’t think about right now. Or ever.

“...take with utmost seriousness. We prioritise our pupils’ mental health and want them to feel safe and achieve their full potential. When it comes to teaching, we ask the staff to meet recognised national requirements while aligning with our safeguarding framework. Each department and teacher is supportive in creating their own identity,” he hears the woman speak, but then it’s just a muffled sound again.

This trip is a total fiasco, and it’s evident from the look on Harry’s face.

They both loved the place. It would be perfect for someone like Louis, and it’s no secret.

They thank Miss Toweney for her time, Louis promises to contact them shortly, and Harry takes them back to Donny.

Louis sobs quietly on the way home.

He curses himself for ever agreeing to the tour.

Because if Harry liked Green Bay as much as Louis did, and if Louis liked the Academy as much as Harry knew he did, then they only have two options, and both of them promise heartache.

🏈

“We have to break up, don’t we?” Louis asks, and it’s the last thing he wants to talk about on his bloody birthday, but.

Harry is leaving tomorrow, and they won’t see each other for a couple of weeks. As much as Louis doesn’t feel like ruining the winter break (and possibly the rest of the academic year; maybe years after that, too), he can’t not ask.

They are sitting in Louis’ old room, cramped, messy and dark. It’s barely three am. Everybody is fast asleep. After they came back from London, Jay and Dan made dinner and invited the Styles family over.

The evening was perfect.

Anne and Jay got on like a house on fire. Gemma, Lottie and Fizzy became besties in a matter of minutes, making stupid and insulting comments about Louis and Harry being disgustingly in love. (Which only hurt more, but Louis tried to ignore it.) Dan and Robin took the younger kids to the playground and made snow figures.

Louis spent the whole night thinking of how he was going to survive without Harry Styles.

“We don’t have to break up,” Harry argues, and he doesn’t sound sure. He sighs and puts his hand on his face. “Lou,” he croaks, “baby, I’m... I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been looking into schools in Green Bay,” Louis says quietly. “Maybe they have something—” He shakes his head. He doesn’t even believe himself. How is he supposed to lie to Harry?

“Please, don’t,” he asks, voice small. “I can’t... You can’t make these kinds of promises, Louis. I’m sorry, baby,” he repeats. “Do you want me to leave?”

Louis visibly shivers.

“What? No. I...” He takes a shaky breath. “We don’t have to... I mean, we can pretend for one more day, okay? I don’t want to upset everybody on Christmas. I’ll tell my family when you leave on Thursday.”

“We can still be friends,” Harry tries, but Louis winces at that.

“Can we stop... fooling ourselves, please? We were never meant to be just friends.”

Harry hums.

“Maybe I should just tell the Coach that—” he starts, but Louis speaks over him.

“H, this isn’t fair. Neither of our dreams is more important than the other’s. I can’t ask you to move here, and you can’t make me want to stay in America.”

“I thought we still had time,” Harry presses, clearly upset. “Months, yeah? Isn’t that what was promised? I don’t— I mean, I haven’t made the decision yet.”

“Well, I did,” Louis snaps, annoyed and tired. “Waiting for the other shoe to drop... Fuck, Harry, you can’t imagine how hard it’s been, and it’s only been a few weeks. How do you expect me to live in this constant state of not knowing for months to come? I barely sleep, and I can’t even make plans. I love you, but if you end up choosing Wisconsin, we both need to start moving on like yesterday.”

Harry nods, face dark.

“Yeah, I... I understand,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Before Louis can protest, Harry gets out of the door and runs down the stairs.

He doesn’t come back until after the sunrise.

🏈

If breaking up with the love of your life isn’t hard enough, then pretending to still be together is much, much worse.

Louis’ heart is in pieces, and he tries not to jolt away every time their elbows brush.

It’s stupid, really, how much Louis wants to never let him go and kick him out of the house at the same time.

It’s the worst birthday he’s ever had.

He tries to make it more about Christmas and less about Louis, which is, in hindsight, is an evidence of his own. Because everything is always about Louis’ birthday. He is the gift from Baby Jesus herself. He was born on Christmas Eve because he is a miracle, and he should be celebrated properly. Which normally wouldn’t be an issue, but today...

He tries to act like nothing is wrong, and he’s pretty decent at it — thanks to his drama background and all. Harry is... a fucking mess. He smiles nervously, barely speaks and doesn’t eat anything. He makes off-handed comments, stares at his phone and uses the loo way too often just to come back later with puffy eyes and trembling hands.

Jay frowns at them the whole morning, and when she finally says something, it’s only her and Louis — she made him drive her to the store to buy some more vegetables for dinner since Harry didn’t eat meat.

“What is going on between you and my future son-in-law?” she demands as soon as Louis parks the car by Tesco. “Are you two having a spat, darling?”

“No spat,” Louis says, tone even. “We just broke up last night.”

Jay stares at him and unbuckles her seatbelt.

“Lou,” she calls, “are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “We didn’t want to worry anybody. I just... Fuck, Mum, it’s awful,” he admits, and Jay brings him closer for a hug.

“Why, baby?” she asks, voice gentle. “I thought everything was going... well.”

“I really liked the school, Mum,” he whispers, tears soaking Jay’s scarf. “And Harry really liked the team. I don’t think we can do long-distance for four years. It’s too much. And even if I could, flying back and forth is going to suck, but not as much as living without him for all these years. And if Harry likes it too much, then he’ll sign another contract, and then we’d still have to break up.”

“It doesn’t mean anything, Lou,” Jay says, frowning. “Harry still hasn’t made up his mind, has he?”

“No, and it’s been driving me mad. I know where his heart lies, so I just...” He sighs. “It’s better for him like this. This way, he doesn’t have to be the one breaking us up, at least.”

“I see the way that boy looks at you, Louis,” Jay says softly. “Breaking your heart is the last thing he’d ever want. He loves you so much, Lou. He is a good lad, too. Are you sure you aren’t making a mistake? He may very well be the love of your life. And what’s a little distance between, then?”

“I don’t know,” Louis whines, shaking his head. “I don’t know anything, Mum. I just need to go through today, okay? Please, don’t tell anyone yet. Make it my birthday gift, I don’t care.”

“Louis,” Jay tries, “baby, take some time to think about it, okay? But please, please, think hard. Sometimes you have to sacrifice things in life.”

“I can’t stay in the US,” Louis argues. “He doesn’t want to move to England. End of story.”

“Louis—”

“I love him, Mum, but my whole family is here. You are here, the girls and Ernie are here. I’m not— I can’t stay in America. I’m not missing any more years of them growing up. Fizzy’s moving to London next year. I need to be there for her. I want to.”

“And what about Harry, baby? He was going to marry you,” Jay says and then stutters. “I— I’m sorry,” she says hastily, instantly regretting the words. “I know it’s hard for you, Lou. I just want you to be happy, and I know that Harry makes you very happy.”

“Can we just go to the store, please?” Louis asks, voice muffled. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Jay nods and unlocks the passenger door on her side.

“Let’s get you some hot tea, Lou. There’s a shop right around the corner,” she offers. “You can stay there while I’m at the store, okay? I’ll pick you up when I’m done.”

Louis shrugs and follows his mother blindly.

He really isn’t in the mood to keep arguing.

🏈

Ever since they first got together, Louis has always felt secure around Harry. He knew Harry was head over heels for him, and, much to Harry’s honour, he never tried to hide it. Confident about their feelings, they both decided not to waste time and stop tiptoeing around each other.

They were serious, committed and if not forever, then at least for the long run.

Losing Harry is like losing ground under your step, Louis figures out pretty quickly. No amount of tears, snot and denial can fix the pain that doesn’t go away. Louis tries drinking to feel numb, but all he feels is longing, borderline obsession and throbbing headache.

He talks to Zayn for hours, and Zayn ends up crying with him.

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” he says, sniffling. “I thought you had more time to decide.”

“I did, too, but... I can’t ask Harry to give up on his future for me.”

“Why can’t you be a selfish bastard for once?” Zayn groans, rolling his eyes. “Fuck, I wish I could be there for you right now, babe.”

Zayn and Niall decided to fly to Ireland for the holidays, and as much as Louis loved that they were getting serious, it meant that Zayn wouldn’t be celebrating New Year’s in Donny, either. Which meant that Louis would have no one to drink with. (As much as Lottie insists she is of age and has had her fair share of hangovers, Louis can’t imagine a world where he splits a bottle of flavoured vodka with his younger sister, no.)

“S’okay,” Louis murmurs, unconvincingly. “Everybody’s been fussing around me for days now.”

The day Harry and his parents left, Louis told his family about their break-up, unable to keep a straight face anymore. It caused an expected and uncontrollable chaos, followed by group hugs, shed tears and buckets of soothing tea.

Unfortunately, nothing has worked.

It became even worse after Anne called him one night and asked how he was doing.

“Anne, I broke Harry’s heart, and you worried about me?” he asks incredulously.

“Louis, honey, I told you that before, and I’m not going to take it back. You are a family, and I will always worry about you. If you are half as much of a mess as my son here, then I don’t envy your poor mother,” she sighs. “Jay seems to be optimistic, but I know she’s heartbroken for you, too.”

“You talked to my mum?” Louis manages, voice hoarse. “Anne, I… I’m sorry, okay? I really am. There wasn’t any other choice. I guess I ended up being Harry’s worst first boyfriend after all.”

“None of that, darling,” Anne says firmly. “You and I both know you didn’t do yourself a favour by breaking it off with him. I… I am proud of you for being able to make hard decisions, Lou, I really am. Doesn’t mean that I don’t wish things were different for you and Harry, though.” She sighs. “He’s been training like crazy since we returned, apparently. I call him every day, and he pretends like everything is fine, but I know him better than that.”

“I watched the game last night,” Louis admits, biting his lip. “He was brilliant.”

“He was,” Anne echoes. “He’s always been, honestly. Naturally gifted like that.”

“I miss him like I’ve never missed anything in my life.”

“Oh, sunshine, he misses you, too.” Anne takes a small pause. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Something Robin and I didn’t have time to tell you.”

“Um, is everything alright?” Louis asks, frowning.

“When Harry told us he was going to move to London, we were sceptical about it,” Anne starts slowly. “We didn’t really know you all that well, but we still looked into purchasing a house or an apartment for Harry in case he doesn’t change his mind.”

“Anne,” Louis warns, dread filling his stomach.

“And then we got to know you better, and Robin and I wanted to make a surprise for you and Harry for graduation. But after Harry told me about your... situation, I had to tell him that we had already bought a place in Chelsea.”

“If you’re trying to say what I think you’re trying to say, you’d better stop right there,” Louis says, voice dry. “You surely can’t think that I would ever—”

“Louis, sweetheart, I know that it sucks, and I know it feels like the end of the world, but the apartment is in a good borough, and it’s almost fully furnished. Robin and I talked last night, and we both decided it’s only fair that you get to keep it.”

Louis chokes on air.

“Absolutely not. It’s out of the question.”

That’s why Harry said that housing wouldn’t be an issue. Did he really think Louis would move into their flat with or without him?

“You don’t have to stay there,” Anne rushes to say. “Maybe just for the first couple of years.”

“No,” Louis repeats, stubborn. “Why would you even— I mean, knowing that that flat was supposed to be for Harry and me, do you think I’d be able to live there? Just like that? You don’t owe me anything, Anne, I swear. I’m sorry for breaking Harry’s heart and wasting his time, but I was never with him for money o-or stupid flats. This isn’t going to help me heal, and, frankly, I’m not your responsibility. I’m just Harry’s ex-boyfriend. I didn’t have your grandkids or anything.”

“You were supposed to,” Anne says, voice quiet. “Remember how we talked about your kids having your accent? You promised me, Louis.”

“Apparently, I promised a lot of things,” Louis snaps, throat throbbing. “Look, Missis Twist, I know you’re trying to be a better person, but I think it’s best we never talk about this again. I’m sorry again for everything. Goodbye.”

Without hearing the response, Louis hangs up and turns off his phone, throwing it against the wall.

He is seriously considering taking up Lottie’s offer to get plastered.

🏈

He ends up going out with Lottie the night before she has to return to Manchester. They leave her boyfriend at home to watch some tv with the kids and babysit them in the process.

It’s not ideal to be drinking with your younger sister who barely turned eighteen, but the circumstances... aren’t ideal anyways.

“So, his parents bought you a flat in Chelsea, asked you to stay there if not permanently but at least as long as you wish, and you hung up on Harry’s mum?” Lottie recaps, sipping on her second pint.

Louis takes a shot of tequila before answering.

“Something like that,” he slurs, eyes bleary.

Unlike Charlotte, he is on his third beer and fourth shot of cheap alcohol. Luckily, they don’t have to drive, seeing that this bar is only two blocks away from the house. Which literally gives Louis one more reason to get hummered (as if he needs another reason).

“Anne is probably pissed at you,” Lottie says, frowning.

“Oi, give it a fucking break, will you? Everybody’s pissed at me these days. I get it.” Louis shakes his head so violently that he feels dizzy. “Everybody’s a mess, and I’m the reason why.”

“You are absolutely not the reason,” Lottie argues. “It’s not your fault Harry changed his mind.”

“Well, it’s not his fault, either.” Louis huffs. “Just... unfortunate circumstances.”

“I can’t believe you’re still flying to LA for him,” his sister mutters, pursing her lips. “That’s fucking mental.”

“Babe, his team made it to the Championship. Of course, I’m flying to LA.” Louis smiles sadly. “I want to see him win this shit, you know. In real life.”

“Does he know you’ll be there?”

“Um. We haven’t really talked since...” Louis shrugs. “I mean, he called me a few times, but judging by the text he had sent before, he was drunk, so I didn’t pick up. I messaged him later, but he just...” He winces. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him quite yet.”

“And how are you going to pay for the tickets, then? I bet it’s going to cost you a bloody fortune.”

“Yeah, a couple of grand...” Louis scratches behind his ear. “I mean, I never really had to worry about paying for anything before,” he admits, albeit reluctantly.

“I bet,” Lottie snorts. “Your filthy rich boyfriend took care of his little princess, didn’t he?”

“Fuck off,” Louis rolls his eyes, irritated. “It’s not like I ever took advantage of it.”

“Babe, you went to Hawaii twice last year,” his sister points out. “He took you on a trip around Europe for fun just a few short months after you started dating. He bought you that stupidly expensive laptop for your studies. That man spoiled you rotten. When was the last time you paid for anything? As a matter of fact, how are you planning on flying back to the US? Didn’t Harry always buy you two tickets?”

Louis huffs and crosses his arms.

“Look, Harry’s family happened to have money and zero issues with him spending it on me,” he says, tone flat. “Now that it’s over, I’m perfectly capable of buying a cheap aeroplane ticket, thank you very much.”

“And what about the Championship? Staying in LA?” Lottie equips, and Louis frowns.

“Probably will have to sell some of my stuff,” he decides grimly. “I mean, I have some money saved from my tutoring, but it’s not nearly enough.”

“I have some savings, too,” she suddenly says. “It’s all yours, Lou.”

“I can’t accept it,” he frowns. “It’s your money, Lots. I know you worked hard last year.”

“Louis, you need to fly to LA and support your boy,” she says, serious as ever. “You being there will mean the world to him, and you know it.”

“He’s not my boy anymore,” Louis argues weakly.

“Were you going to say yes if he proposed?” Lottie asks, curious.

Louis stutters.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “A few months ago? Sure. Two weeks ago? Probably not. Probably’d have to break up with him back then.”

Lottie frowns at him.

“I know you think you’re doing the right thing for both of you, but I can assure you that Harry is going to make the right choice in the end. He loves you, Lou, and the way he looks at you... it says everything.”

Louis looks away, unable to meet his sister’s piercing gaze.

He wishes there were a way to make out the difference between good choices and bad choices. He wishes he could turn off this longing feeling that sits deep down inside of him and rearranges his organs.

The pull Harry has on him is tangible. He can feel his fingers reaching out for him, clutching over emptiness.

What if he never sees Harry again? That was the plan, wasn’t it? That is what normally happens when couples break up. They go in different directions to never have their paths crossed again.

Louis is going to move to London, teach in the fancy academy. He’s going to love going to work and dread coming home to an empty flat or, worse, a room. Come to think of it, he needs to check with Liam and see if they can maybe move in together. (Since Liam was offered a very nice and highly paid position in one of London’s universities, he didn’t think twice about relocating, which must be nice.) Liam is a nice lad, he will be happy to nurse Louis and his broken heart.

Harry will move to Wisconsin and make a name for himself. He will spend his first rookie year practising like a madman, trying to forget all about Louis, focusing on his career and preseason games. He may even get to play the first year he’s on the team if they realise how extraordinary he really is. He will make millions (which, to be honest, probably is very low on his list of priorities), will meet amazing people, will learn so much about the game he loves and will get over his stupid love for Louis, who never deserved it anyway.

He’s going to marry someone who can make sacrifices for him and give him everything he’s ever wanted. Somehow, Louis just knows that Harry will end up with a good lad, who’s going to make him very happy.

Louis can’t give Harry what he wants. Louis is a selfish person who can’t put even the love of his life above his family. For better or worse, Louis is going to move back exactly where he was meant to live his entire life — to England. And he’s going to watch Harry become the greatest. Proudly.

🏈

Los Angeles is hot, and it’s the first impression Louis has of the city.

Surprisingly, he’s never been here before, even though Harry mentioned on several occasions that he would like to take Louis here during the summer, since Harry’s family had a property in Santa Monica.

They never had a chance, though.

Louis booked a room in a shady motel in the middle of nowhere, but not too far from SoFi Stadium, so he wouldn’t have to take a cab and spend even more money. He’s already flying back to Michigan with the cheapest tickets he could find.

In hindsight, maybe it’s not such a smart idea to travel halfway across the world to watch your ex-boyfriend make history, but. Harry deserves this win, and Louis will be damned if he’s not there to witness his victory.

(Or defeat).

He feels lonely in the crowd.

Normally, he would have a special pass, a wristband and a few minutes before the game alongside his boyfriend. He’d even come to see the team practice. Unfortunately, this is a different story this time around.

Security is high, and he gets frisked twice before reaching his nosebleed seat (for which he paid an unspeakable amount of money he took from his sister after much convincing).

Okay, maybe he doesn’t have the worst seat, but he’s not sitting with Harry’s family, either. He can’t even see them. He knows that Anne, Robin and Gemma are here, though, because Harry’s sister just posted something on Instagram stories a few minutes ago.

Louis feels relieved to know that Harry had someone in his corner, at least. They’d be there to celebrate his triumph. Or console him.

Twenty minutes before the game, through horrid and loud music, commentaries from the box and endless chatter, Louis feels his phone vibrating.

Gemma:
You’re here, aren’t you?

It’s not much of a question, Louis supposes, but he answers still.

Yep. Wouldn’t miss it

Gemma:
Louis, you should have called me you stupid idiot
We would’ve gotten you better seats

Louis chuckles. He can practically hear Gemma’s voice as he reads the message.

Not about the seats, Gems
I can see the field from here, and they have a bunch of screens

There’s a two-minute silence before Harry’s sister starts furiously typing again.

Gemma:
Louis
Are you seriously that fucking stupid
Harry doesn’t know you’re here
He won’t be able to see you
And I can’t tell him cause he fucked off a long time ago

Gemma, it’s fine
He doesn’t need to know that I’m here
Kind of the point here love

Louis rereads the message a few times and winces at himself. He sounds outwardly pathetic.

Gemma:
It’s not fine
Harry is a mess
He deserves to know that you care

Louis imagines Gemma’s face, red and annoyed, and he can’t help but feel guilty. He thought it would be better for both of them to have some space, to clear their heads, to heal their hearts a bit. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he should have stayed in England and not come back here at all.

He knows that I will always care

Louis settles on his last message and locks the screen. There are a few unanswered messages from his chat group with Niall, Zayn and Liam, but he doesn’t have the heart to open them yet. He told them last night that he had made it to the motel, safe and sound, despite all odds, and he didn’t feel like sharing any of his feelings right now. Most likely, he will call Zayn later and ruin his day by crying his heart out and talking about Harry anyway. That’s just Louis’ new way of coping with the loss.

The music fades as soon as Harry’s team is on the field.

He has Louis’ number on his back, twenty-eight, and it’s the first thing he notices when Harry comes out, helmet on his head, focused, unwavering.

Louis’ breath hitches.

It gets broadcast right away, and he can hear commentators speculating in real time.

“Harry Styles, the captain and QB for the University of Michigan, has changed his regular famously lucky number thirteen to twenty-eight. When asked this question during the pre-game interview, he didn’t offer any explanation. Could it have something to do with his rumoured draft for the NFL that is being discussed as the end of the season is near?”

Louis swallows thickly, trying to tune out the noise.

His phone vibrates again.

Gemma:
You know he loves you very much, Louis
Don’t let it go to waste

Louis swipes left and focuses on the game.

It’s... intense. American football has always been intense, and Louis doesn’t know a better word to describe the game.

After the anthem, that’s when it properly starts. Louis bites his nails, trying to remember everything he knows about the rules, and his brain short-circuits when Harry loses the coin toss.

Louis gets a string of messages in the group chat, all from Niall, who swore to comment on every single thing in case Louis gets lost.

It’s not too bad, not yet. Losing a coin toss is not very bad luck

God bless his soul, Louis thinks. The lad tries too hard to stay optimistic sometimes.

They play against the Georgia Bulldogs, a traditional powerhouse, according to Niall’s sources. Louis doesn’t understand much about the sport, but they won two consecutive Championships. They are fierce opponents, known for brutal defence and wearing down the opponent team. They come to win, and they are hungry for their third title. Louis can feel it in the air, can see it. The sea of red and black on the other side of the field is a heavy contrast with the bright yellow and blue. Louis himself is wearing Harry’s old varsity jacket that still has a faint smell of his expensive cologne. It brings him comfort right now, knowing that he and Harry shared so much through the years. Even if it led to this.

Fuck, he didn’t even text Harry good luck. Couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would have caved in, begged Harry to take him to his fancy hotel room and take him apart at least one more time.

He would have majorly fucked with Harry’s head if he had done any of that, of course.

So keeping his distance was the best option.

Niall:
Fucking hell Georgia is playing too well today!

Liam:
It’s barely halftime, we still have a chance

Niall:
We’re losing 17 — 10
You’re calling it a chance?

Louis bites his lip, eyes trained on Harry’s strained back. He takes his helmet off for a few short moments to drink some water and chat with his teammates. Cameras are focused on his face, flashes blinding, and Louis sees his big tired green eyes on the screen. His heart clenches.

Zayn:
We had a good late touchdown lads
Nothing is over yet, Lou

Niall:
Georgia made a hell of a field goal though

Zayn:
Michigan is flexible, they will figure something out, adapt the strategy

Louis smiles despite the tension. Zayn is trying his best to keep being optimistic, and Louis is infinitely grateful for that. Even if Zayn couldn’t care less about football, he cares way too much about Louis.

Liam:
Okay, things are looking up a bit, don’t they?

Zayn:
I fucking told you all!

Niall:
Nice move yeah adding an extra blocker
Harry looks way more confident now I think

Zayn:
Fucking shit they are tied!

Niall:
Unbelieavable

Liam:
Need to do better next quarter

Louis groans, losing focus. His attention is split between the large screen, tiny figures on the field and ongoing commentaries on his phone that bring some kind of sense to this madness.

He wishes his friends could have been here, but he is grateful that they are taking the time out of their day to cheer him up and pay attention to the game.

“Pressure is back on Michigan with Georgia making the field goal. Georgia 20 — Michigan 17. The game has been a chef’s kiss so far, very on brand, very intense. That’s exactly what you expect from the Championship here in the heart of LA,” the loud voice is speaking through the noise, words barely making sense to Louis anymore.

His fists are clenched, and his lip is bitten and swollen. He wants to do something, to change the outcome somehow, but all he can do is watch, unable to support Harry the way he deserves.

Fuck, he should have texted him something.

Liam:
Barely two minutes left on the clock!

Zayn:
He can do it

Liam:
I mean
He’s going to need a freaking miracle probably

Zayn:
Have a little faith will you?

Louis frowns, eyes darting from Harry to his teammates. Harry is breathing calmly, and Louis knows he’s thinking, analysing the situation. He’s going to take action.

Niall:
18 yards! Fuck yeah!

Louis exhales, covering his face with his hands.

“...and Michigan’s QB just turned a desperate 3rd-and-long into a game-changing plan!” the commentator yelps, the roar of fans almost deafening. What an outstanding move by Styles! Incredible composure, number twenty-eight. No wonder he is chosen to be the captain, really.”

Niall:
They won!
Can’t believe they won!
Oh my fucking god Louis did you see that?

Liam:
It was way too intense
I’m never watching another football game ever again

Niall:
Never say never Payno

Zayn:
I fucking told you all!
Louis how are you babe?

Liam:
Louis are you alright?

Louis:
Thank you lads I really appreciate you being there for me

Niall:
Anytime mate

Liam:
Don’t mention it

Zayn:
Love you bro

Louis locks his phone for the very last time and watches the celebration. There is a blur of colours, players surrounded by their families and partners. He can make out Harry’s number (Louis’ number), Gemma’s bright pink hair and Anne’s checkered coat.

He is happy that Harry did such a great job. He can be very proud of himself. Winning the Championship is a big deal, and the Green Bay Packers will now want him even more, probably. He tries not to feel bitter about it, but he can’t.

This life is the opposite of what Louis wants for himself, and it pains him greatly to be sitting in the bleachers, watching the love of his life celebrating the success he deserves without him.

Louis is a selfish bastard, but he won’t be a petty one. He gets up to leave when he can practically feel someone’s glare on him. Gemma is pointing at the bleachers and tells something to Harry, whose eyes go comically wide. His face is broadcast on all the tvs, and he looks almost shaken. He mutters something that suspiciously looks like Louis’ name, but Louis can’t take it anymore.

He takes off and leaves the stadium, walking faster than he’s ever walked in his entire life.

Harry deserves a win that isn’t tainted by Louis’ presence for once. He needs to learn how to celebrate himself without Louis by his side. It’s only fair they let each other go, right?

Even if it doesn’t feel right.

🏈

Louis misses two frat parties before Nicolas Grimshaw stops him in the middle of the campus and grabs his shoulder.

“I haven’t seen you around, Tommo,” he says, frowning. “Is everything alright?”

To be perfectly honest, it’s a loaded fucking question for twelve in the morning on a Monday that Louis would do pretty much anything to avoid answering.

“Been busy, yeah,” he says, trying to convey with his facial expression how very little he wants to participate in this exact conversation.

Nick only smiles at him and hums.

“Haven’t been to the frat in ages, have you?” he says, and Louis refrains from rolling his eyes.

“No, reckon won’t be back for a while.”

Nick narrows his eyes.

“You know H is a wreck, yeah?” he asks, quieter than usual. “He’s been beside himself ever since he came back from England.”

Louis doesn’t answer, tapping his foot against the rock impatiently.

“So why d’you break up with our boy, Tommo?” Nick doesn’t let up, and Louis allows himself an irritated huff.

“What makes you think I was the one who broke up with him? Could have very well been the other way ‘round,” he grumbles, and Nick snorts.

“No fucking way, Lou. Harry is obsessed with you. He wore your number at the game, did you see that?”

Louis groans.

Nick is in Harry’s frat, and he isn’t the most annoying person in the world, but he is very close to being one about right fucking now. If Louis didn’t secretly enjoy his pretentious hipster radio and sarcastic comments, he would have probably punched the bloke into next week.

“Of course, I saw it,” he settles on the truth, crossing his arms. “What’s with the interrogation, Grimshaw? Do you want to dedicate your next gossip segment to us or something?”

“To you and Harry? Hardly.” Nick snorts. “You, on the other hand... You are worth a whole fucking show, Tomlinson.”

“Are you trying to hit on me weeks after my breakup?” Louis asks, incredulous. The nerve of him, honestly.

“Nah. As much as I like them bratty, you ain’t never gonna be mine, and I don’t want to be a shadow of your perfect ex-boyfriend.” Nick shrugs carelessly. “But if you want to fuck, I’m all in.”

“Pass.” Louis scrunches his nose. “How... Um, how is Harry doing, though?” he asks suddenly, concerned, feeling for a quick second like he can trust Nick’s opinion on the matter.

Grimshaw licks his lips.

“Like I said, a wreck,” he repeats, frowning. “I mean... I guess he is happy because we won, but I know he skipped the last few training sessions.”

“What?” Louis’ brows fly in shock. “He did what?”

And the thing about Harry... That bloke plays through any weather conditions, fever, aching limbs, sprained wrists and shit. He is dedicated and serious, and what the actual fuck is he thinking now? Only because he won the biggest prize of his college career doesn’t mean that he gets to let himself up.

“Yeah, the Coach was fucking furious from what I’ve heard.” Nick shakes his head. “H told him, and I quote, I just won you a fucking Championship. Can you leave me alone for one fucking week?’ Winters cursed him out and then left the house.”

Louis swallows thickly.

“I... I didn’t know.” He clears his throat. “Is he in the house right now? Has he been skipping classes, as well?”

“No, haven’t missed a day. I think it’s only football that he has something against. Does it have anything to do with, uh, your breakup?” he asks, carefully.

Louis sighs and repeats, “Is he home, Grimmy?”

Nick nods curtly.

“Was when I left, yeah. He doesn’t have classes until later on Mondays this semester. If you hurry up, you might still catch him.”

“Thank you,” Louis says, sincerely. “Sorry for being rude, man.”

Nick shrugs, indifferent.

“S’okay, Tommo. I know you’re hurting.”

Louis winces at that.

He is hurting. Has been hurting for a while now.

And the sole thought of seeing Harry is bloody terrifying. He hasn’t talked to Harry in forever, and they used to never go without chatting even for a day, not since they first met.

Is Harry depressed? Has Louis breaking up with him actually hit him this hard? Is he thinking about quitting football? Why else would he skip practices and talk back to the Coach?

Louis knows Harry respected the hell out of Coach Winters, much like Louis did his own Coach. They weren’t necessarily close-close, but Harry was the backbone of the team, and that much was obvious. For Harry to talk like this to his superior is a fucking anomaly.

Sweet, kind, heartbroken Harry.

Louis drags himself to the frat against his will. He isn’t ready to face Harry just yet, not sure he can manage to go through one conversation with his ex-boyfriend and not fall apart.

He cried way too many tears over the winter break.

He smoked too much weed in his shitty motel room in LA, trying to turn his pain into something less... stabbing. Trying to focus on good moments and good times, not the sad parts of their relationship. They say you don’t remember bad parts, but it’s not true. Louis remembered everything, and he still had so many more wonderful moments with Harry.

Their first kiss, first date, first I love you, first time they ever travelled together, first time they had sex, made love. First time Harry told him that he didn’t imagine his future without Louis. First time Louis woke up in the middle of the night and realised he was ready to have a family with his boyfriend. First time Louis thought about their wedding being in the summer.

Even their first fight, all of it was so important. Preserving every little detail about his and Harry’s love, bad and worse and brilliant, seemed important.

Louis isn’t ready to face him right now.

Nonetheless, he stands on the doorstep, knocks twice and orders himself not to bolt.

He almost throws up when he gets another first added to his memory collection.

First time he sees Harry after their break-up.
🏈

They don’t say anything for a few moments. Harry makes them tea with chamomile and a dash of honey, places the mug in front of Louis and quirks his eyebrow in a silent question. Upstairs? it means. Louis nods, heart throbbing.

They only ever go upstairs with intent, and this is a new territory for both of them.

Same staircase, familiar creak of the floors, a hole in the wall from one of the particular wild Halloween parties — everything is imprinted on Louis’ brain like it’s his own house.

Yet, they have never quite been here before.

Harry is obviously nervous, pacing around the room and playing with the sleeves of his too-long lilac sweater.

Louis doesn’t feel any less calm, but he can at least ground himself, fists clenching to the bedsheets underneath. Has Harry changed them since they slept here last?

“So, I heard you’ve been skipping your practices,” Louis says, quieter than he intended. “What’s that about, H?”

“Why does it matter?” Harry asks right away, stopping in his tracks. “As far as I remember, you explicitly said we wouldn’t be friends, didn’t you?”

Louis winces at that.

“Fair,” he nods. “But it’s not like I... stopped caring about you.”

“You are so full of shit, Louis,” Harry snaps suddenly. “I’m so fucking angry at you, you can’t imagine. I don’t know what I want more right now, punch you or yell at you.”

“You deserve to do both,” Louis says, calm. “Whatever is going to make you feel better, H.”

“Stop being so freaking noble about it!” Harry groans, rolling his eyes. “You aren’t doing me a favour, Louis. I didn’t ask to be dumped on fucking Christmas.”

“I know. Neither did I.” Louis sighs. “I’m sorry, Harry. You travelled all the way from America with your family, and I was a total wanker.”

“You... weren’t.” Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “You are... Louis, I was... I had a ring in my pocket,” he confesses quietly. “I was going to give it for your birthday as a promise to figure things out between us.”

Louis stares at him, eyes wide.

Harry had a ring for him. Even after everything they had been through, through all the uncertainty, the unknown, he had wanted to make a promise to Louis to work this out, make their relationship last. Save them.

“I don’t need your ring, and I don’t need your promises,” Louis snaps, voice trembling. “I need you to be happy, Harry, and be selfish. Because the reality is that I’m not staying in America, and this isn’t a choice for me. I’m sorry. I love you, but I can’t stay here. That wasn’t the plan. I can’t leave my whole life on the other side of the world, and I know it sounds stupid and egoistic, but you’ve never had a big family, and you can’t understand how I feel when I’m away from them.”

Harry studies his face in silence for a moment.

“You know why I play football, Louis?” he asks, suddenly too calm and collected for Louis’ liking.

“Because you’re good at it? Because you love it?” he shrugs, confused. “What kind of question even is that?”

“When I was in high school, my average grade sucked,” Harry tells him suddenly.

Louis raises his brows. He knew Harry struggled with his classes back in middle school, but he also never met that Harry. Harry, whom he’d been dating, was intelligent, serious about his studies and always focused on the task at hand.

“My parents told me that they wouldn’t pay for college if I didn’t have a good enough GPA to get accepted because of my knowledge,” Harry continues, making Louis frown even harder. “They believed that education was a privilege, and if I wanted to make something of myself, I had to earn it, not just pay for it. So I worked extra hard, played football even better, fixed my grade and got an early admission with a full scholarship.”

Louis blinks slowly. Truth be told, he was always under the impression that the only reason why Harry got into uni in the first place was his sportsmanship and not his general knowledge. Not that Harry was stupid or anything, but his focus had always been painfully obvious: football first, classes second. Alas, Harry had never failed a single subject.

“I’m not really following,” Louis admits, biting his lip. “What does it have to do with anything?”

“I’ve always loved football, you’re right. I’m good at it, too; there’s no denying that. But the game has changed for me since the moment I met you.”

Louis clears his throat, now even more confused.

“Since you met me? ‘Arry, I don’t... What are you on about?”

“You came to every game I played. Psyched me up. Always texted before, after and during my away games, always watched my matches, no matter how busy you were yourself. You’ve always supported me, Louis, and that’s what kept me going all these years when classes were getting too hard and all I wanted was to play sports and forget all about my stupid degree. But you were so proud of me, so sweet, and I knew I had to push to match you, to stay on the same level, to have a chance of forever with someone like you.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to prove anything to me, ever,” Louis says, voice non-existent. “I’ve always loved you for you.”

“I know that, Louis, baby.” Harry shakes his head. “I just want you to understand, okay? You are the reason why I did so well in football and school. I wanted to make you proud of me.” He puts his fingers through his hair and sighs. “So when I was playing the biggest game of my career in LA and you weren’t there, everything seemed pointless. Just another game, another title. I mean, I wanted to win, of course, for my teammates, for the Coach, for my parents. For myself... I wanted to never put that uniform on ever again.”

Louis winces at Harry’s confession like it physically hurts him.

“And so I... I was happy, I guess?” Harry shrugs, unsure. “We hadn’t won the Championship since ninety-ninety-seventh. It was a big deal for everybody, and it felt good to have played a major part in it.”

“You played so well, darling,” Louis lets out against his better judgment. “Like a true leader.”

“It didn’t matter,” Harry says, frowning deeply. “You weren’t there, and I didn’t get to share that moment with you. And I realised I wasn’t going to share any moments with you ever again. Lou, we had so many firsts together, and even though I had more than you, I want to think that we shared what truly mattered. I thought about us not having any more firsts, ever. I thought about what it would be like to have my first puppy with someone who ain’t you, to kiss someone else in Paris for the first time, to spend my first paycheck on someone who ain’t you, to move into my own new shiny apartment, to marry someone else, have kids together. And all of that with someone who ain’t you. And it fucking sucks, baby. Can’t think about it without hyperventilating,” he confesses, and Louis can see the telltale signs of Harry’s distress — wild eyes, trembling lip, twitchy fingers. In moments like these, Louis normally takes his hand and grounds him.

So he does just that, instinctively, gently, with his own pulse quickening.

“You’re alright, love,” he promises, stroking Harry’s back and rubbing circles into it. “Just breathe, H, okay? Breathe for me, together. Show me that you’re breathing, baby, please.”

Harry obeys and calms down, little by little, beat by beat.

Louis’ skin melts against Harry’s, and he isn’t sure if they can ever change the shapes of their bodies back to normal, so they wouldn’t be slotted so perfectly to fit only just each other.

This isn’t fair, he thinks bitterly. I was made for loving him. If there’s a sole purpose for every human being who has walked the world, Louis’ job has always been to love Harry the way he deserves.

“My wins don’t matter when you ain’t around, Louis,” Harry says, voice hoarse. “You make everything make sense. You bring colour to my life. You are my anchor. I wish I were—”

“Will you ever forgive me for breaking your heart?” Louis asks, speaking over him.

Harry stares at him for a moment.

“Depends,” he finally says, tone even. “Do you still stand by it?”

Louis wants to cry, but instead, he nods.

“I might have been your first in a lot of ways, Harry, but I will also always stay your first heartbreak. And I will be my first heartbreak, too, if I let you give up on your dream. You deserve to shine, H, to show the world what you’re made of. To play for the Green Bay Packers and make history.”

“No,” Harry says, curtly. “I don’t... I turned down the offer. I called the team manager after the game in LA and told him I couldn’t move to Wisconsin because I was moving to London to be with my boyfriend and his family.”

Louis hitches his breath, mouth agape.

“Are you out of your mind?” he yelps, throwing his hands in the air. “You did what?”

Harry shrugs, almost awkwardly.

“I made you a promise, didn’t I?” he reminds, stubborn bastard if Louis ever met one.

“What about it? Fuck that promise. Your future, Harry, is more impor—”

“Look, football is my passion, and I love it,” Harry interrupts him, voice steady. “But professional sportsmen... their health is terrible. My back is already killing me, and I’m still very young. Let it stay my passion. I can join an amateur American football league in England or something.”

“You want to go from semi-pro and almost-pro to fucking amateur?” Louis stares at him in disbelief. “What about your career, then?”

“Dunno,” Harry shrugs again, nonchalant. “But I don’t have to know. I have time, and I have means. For now, we can just... start a family, have a life together, only you and I.”

Louis bites his nails, feeling very uncomfortable.

He squeezes his eyes shut and opens and closes his mouth, trying to come up with the right words to say.

“No,” he says finally, wincing internally. “You are going to accept Green Bay’s offer, and you’re going to move to Wisconsin. I’m going to move to London, and then we’ll both get a fresh start. I can’t let you sacrifice your career and your happiness for me, Harry. It’s not fair. I can’t accept it.”

Harry narrows his eyes, and he looks mildly annoyed.

“Louis, baby, you were okay with me moving to London a few months ago, remember?” he says, as gently as possible, and it’s obvious that he’s trying to make some sense.

“A few months ago, I didn’t know how you really felt about football. Now that I do... Harry, love, I can’t replace your dreams with mine.”

“You won’t, Louis, how are you not understanding this? I don’t want to play football when you aren’t there to celebrate my wins and be there through my losses. I don’t care about the game if you aren’t watching it and rooting for me. Louis, you make it worth my time. I think I loved playing in college so much ‘cause you’ve always been there for me. When I was alone in LA... it was hard, okay? I didn’t know why I was playing, even. I stuck it out for my teammates and Winters, but my heart wasn’t in it.”

“How can you promise me you won’t regret it if you don’t know what else you’d like to do with your life?” Louis asks, desperate for particular answers, clarity.

“Losing you would be my biggest regret,” Harry says, voice sure. “Letting you go live your life without me would be my biggest fear. I love you, and I know it makes me sound naïve. I bet a lot of boys think their first love is going to last forever, but I just know that you and I, we can survive anything. Ever since I met you, I haven’t looked at another person like this in years. I know that you’re it for me, and I want to be the same for you. Please have faith in us, Lou.”

“I... I do, I really, really do, H.” He sighs and washes his face with his hand. “I just want you to be happy, darling, s’all.”

“Then move to London with me. Marry me. Stay with me until the day I die, and I will always be the happiest boy in any room. I promise to keep you happy, too.”

🏈

There’s an insistent knock on the door that pulls Louis out of his afternoon nap. He groans and cusses out, blindly reaching to shake his boyfriend back to reality.

Harry wraps his hands around him, protectively, and groans, too.

“Go away,” Louis mumbles, ignoring the knocking. “Fucking Zayn...”

“Tsh, baby,” Harry whispers, tangling himself with Louis even more. “I’ll tell him to fuck off. Sleep, okay?”

“It’s okay, let him come in,” Louis says, yawning. “Maybe it’s something important.”

Harry nods and reluctantly gets out of bed, not bothering with putting on any clothes. Not that Louis minds. Harry’s insistance to wear next to nothing is something he will never be able to get enough of.

Zayn grimaces but doesn’t comment on Harry’s outfit, all too used to seeing him stark naked anyway.

“Wanted to see if you lads are up for breakfast,” he says, covering his eyes with the back of his palm.

“Dunno. Was thinking about cooking,” Harry says, sitting on the bed next to Louis and patting his legs. “What do you think, baby?”

“Don’t want to go anywhere,” Louis mutters, sleepy. “Missed you.”

Zayn huffs. “Oh my fucking god. Are you now back together, or was it just a last hurrah?” he asks, deliberately overannoyed, but Louis can hear the worry in his voice.

Harry shakes his head violently.

“No last hurrah,” he says, confident. “Louis and I talked. I made the decision.”

“It better be the decision that isn’t going to make me wanna punch you out,” Zayn hisses, and Louis glares daggers at him.

“Cut the shit, Malik. Harry and I are adults, and we can—”

“I’m moving to London,” Harry speaks over him firmly. “Louis and I are going to live together. I’m quitting football after this year is over.”

“Good,” Zayn mutters, crossing his arms. “M’glad you had more brains than brawl in the end, Styles,” he approves. “Heartbroken Louis is my worst nightmare.”

“Mine, too,” he agrees and smiles sheepishly. “Now, why don’t you close the door from the other side? It’s our first morning together in weeks. I’m about to make up for it.”

🏈

“Are you absolutely positive you have everything you need, dear?” Anne asks, looking over three large bags lying at their feet. “Did you remember to pack up your favourite—”

“Mom,” Harry calls, exasperated, “you know that I checked everything at least three times. Whatever I don’t have in here,” he gestures to his stuff, “is already halfway across the world on the ship. Including my car.”

“It’s just.” She takes a shaky breath. “It’s a big thing, you know, a big change. For both of you.” She squeezes Harry’s and Louis’ shoulders. “I’m going to miss you like crazy, my babies.”

“Mom.” Harry frowns slightly, but it’s not real; he’s trying to keep up a cool front so they won’t end up bawling their eyes out. They already did it last night. And this morning. Louis isn’t sure his reserve of tears has anything left in it. “I’ll call you as soon as we’re settled, okay? Louis’ family is going to meet us at Heathrow, so you ain’t gotta worry.”

“Mum’s already in London,” Louis assures Anne. “Said she wanted to get to the flat before us and make sure it’s livable. Knowing her, she’ll make a four-course meal and like five different pies.”

“Please say hello to Jay for me,” Anne asks, smiling through watery eyes. “We’ll visit next month, okay? Once you’ve settled down,” she promises. “Can’t believe this is actually happening. I’m so happy for you,” she whispers. “Both of you, really. So glad you made the right choice, Harry. Was worried sick you’d let this man here leave without you,” she chuckles, and it’s supposed to sound cheerful, but it’s just sad. “Louis, we all love you so much. Please remember that. You can call me about anything and everything. Take care of my baby, okay? I trust you.”

Louis nods and sniffles.

“I love you, too, Anne,” he says, voice hoarse. “I promise to take care of Harry. Thank you for… trusting me, really.”

“Okay, okay,” Gemma interrupts, rolling her eyes. “It’s enough sappiness, you three. Robin and I wanna say goodbye as well, Mom.”

All in all, leaving the country that kind of became a home in the past four years is hard. Louis loves Michigan. Sure, it’s cold as balls here, and he, honestly, could have chosen a better state to live in, but it will always remain one of his favourite places on the planet.

New beginnings are always scary, and he isn’t sure of what to do with their life once the plane lands in the UK.

Louis accepted the job at the academy that Harry and he had been to in winter. They are just waiting for him to relocate and settle in.

He doesn’t know what Harry’s going to do with his future. Harry himself doesn’t know it yet.

And, still, somehow, it’s not something that either of them is dreading to find out. They’ve never been in this stage of their lives when they had to make great decisions that are going to affect their future, but it’s okay. Because they are together in it.

Because Harry is holding his hand as they are taking off, and he’s talking nonsense, trying to distract Louis from his fear of flying. Harry is holding his left hand, gentle and caring, and Louis watches how small emerald stones sparkle on his promise ring.

He puts his head on Harry’s chest and imagines their lives in five, ten, thirty years.

It’s easy. Loving Harry is easy, and maybe being with Harry hasn’t always been a walk in the park, but it never felt wrong, not once. Only leaving him behind did.

It takes time and effort on Harry’s part to befriend Zayn, Liam and Niall.

A few dinners can’t make a big difference, and he learns to open up, little by little. Soon, he cracks up jokes with Niall, argues with Liam over the climate crisis and who’s the best Batman, and he and Zayn practically become a dream team during Trivia Nights.

Harry makes an effort to be present in Louis’ life, and it’s a choice.

Louis knows he will miss football, attention and the camaraderie. Louis will miss it, too, but in a different, nostalgic way.

“I just hope you won’t regret us,” Louis confesses quietly as they watch the sun set behind the tempered glass. “You could have had such a big and beautiful dream, Harry. Not just everybody gets a chance like this.”

“Not just everybody gets a chance to spend the rest of their lives with someone as amazing as you,” Harry parrots, tightening his grip around Louis’ waist. “As long as we’re together, I won’t regret a thing.”

“And what if we break up? There’s no guarantee we will pass the test of time.”

“No, there isn’t,” Harry nods, nonchalant as ever. “But we will. Even if we fight or break up again, I will never stop loving you. And while I love you, I can’t possibly regret you.”

“I love you more than words can describe,” Louis whispers. “Can’t wait to marry you.”

“Can’t wait to marry you, either, sweetheart,” Harry chuckles. “We’re going to rock this married life, you and I.”


They don’t get married for five more years.

Life keeps them busy, and both have successful careers that need full-time presence.

They don’t break up, though. They fight, sure, and a couple of times, Louis finds that he is glad they haven’t got married because it would be a bitch to file for divorce amidst everything else.

When his anger passes, he cries for hours, cursing himself for ever thinking that and being relieved about something like that.

They talk for the whole night, and when they make up, Louis tells Harry that they should probably finally have a July wedding.

“We’ve waited a long time to get here together. I can’t stand another minute not being married to you.”

Harry laughs at that and reaches for his side of the nightstand by the bed. He opens the first drawer and takes out a small velvet box.

“Lou, I’ve literally waited for years to put this on you,” he breathes out and watches how Louis opens the box and holds a silver band between his two fingers. “I have this whole concept, okay, how our ring stones are going to have both of our eye colours as a running theme,” he starts, grinning. “We’ll have green and blue fairy lights, as well, of course.”

“Of course,” Louis chuckles fondly, still so hopelessly in love after all these years.

“And then we can get even more matching tattoos. Maybe we could get one on our wedding day?”

“That’s… a wonderful idea, darling. We should definitely do that.”

Harry smiles at him the very same smile he did almost nine years ago when they had just first met. And, sure, things around them have changed so much, especially since they moved to the UK. It took both of them a while to find their footing, especially Harry. But they have always been happy together, supported each other. The rough patch they went through all these years ago was just that — a rough patch. They had to make a major decision that would change their lives forever, and it paid off. Tenfold.

Now, they don’t have to choose between their dreams and their love anymore.

So maybe Louis didn’t intend to marry Harry when he first met him, but he’s known for years that he will be the person he spends the rest of his life with.

And their lives together have only just started.