catch me if i fall

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/41563683.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band)
Relationship: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Lovers, Rivals to
Lovers, Hate to Love, Fluff, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending,
Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Harry, Smut, Explicit Sexual
Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Semi-Public Sex, Anal Sex, Rimming,
Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, liam's not
in this much sorry, tw: brief mention of sports
Language: English
Collections: Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2022
Stats: Published: 2022-10-21 Words: 47,099 Chapters: 4/4
 catch me if i fall
by shimmeringevil

Summary

“You– how do you–” Louis stammers before attempting to compose himself, fighting off the
tidal wave of fear that threatens to wash him away in its wake. “No. You don’t. You don’t
know.”

Every protest falling from his lips is in vain, because despite what he keeps telling himself,
Harry knows.

Harry's widening smirk is answer enough as he steps forward slowly, walking up until he’s
right in Louis’ space.

“You look like you need some time to process things,” he whispers with false-earnestness.
Sliding a hand under Louis’ chin, Harry tilts his head so Louis is forced to look up at him.
“Why don’t we take a little break and start up again later, so you can mull things over?”

OR - Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have
butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out
until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

Notes

big, big thank you to the BLFF mods for organizing this fest. I doubt I would have gotten into
writing without your constant thoughtfulness, organization, and support, so you deserve the
biggest hugs and all the love! You are wonderful and appreciated for everything you do :)

also to ni, my beta, thank you for being so lovely and patient with me, and being so
welcoming when i was brand new here and had no idea what I was doing :,) this work truly
couldn't have come out without you.

---

Additional Warnings (SPOILERS):

This work deals with a main character who works at a strip club, and includes some brief
scenes in this setting. While everything is non-graphic, there are brief depictions and
mentions of unwanted physical contact. There are also scenes with shitty parental behavior,
but again, nothing graphic or extreme. If any of this is a trigger for you, this might not be the
 right fic for you. Feel free to reach out to me on twitter or tumblr @shimmeringevil if you
have any more questions! Please keep yourselves safe <3

See the end of the work for more notes

 Chapter 1

The chances of Harry getting through this evening without wanting to fling himself out a
window were always low. The familiar, grating voice that greets him the second he gets a
drink in his hand drops them to nonexistent.

“Not surprised you've gone for the champagne already," the high, raspy lilt calls out. "If you
spent even one tenth of the time practicing for rehearsals as you did getting wasted on
weeknights, then maybe you wouldn't get called out for being shit at remembering your
lines.”

Harry grinds his teeth, composure dwindling with every insufferable word uttered from that
infuriatingly pretty mouth. Bracing himself, he turns around to the sight of Louis Tomlinson
eyeing the half-empty glass pointedly.

Harry knows his game. Louis isn't nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

"If that were true, then maybe you would have gotten the lead role instead of me," Harry says
coolly. "But as it turns out, expensive acting classes and mouthing off to people unprovoked
don't make up for a lack talent."

Harry smiles to himself when Louis stiffens, leveling him with that stone-cold stare that must
be second nature to him by now.

"If I didn't know any better," he adds, still smiling as he raises his glass to his lips for another
sip, "I'd say you were jealous, darling. It's not a good look on you."

“Everything's a good look on me,” Louis says, recovering quickly. Wrinkling his nose, he
sweeps his eyes up and down Harry’s patterned floral shirt with unconcealed disdain. “But I
can't say the same for you. Is that really what you're wearing right now? Because I'm ninety
percent sure that my grandma’s guest room bedspread has the same print as your shirt.”

Pressing his mouth into a thin line, Harry refuses to let his lips quirk up in any semblance of a
smile. He quickly scrutinizes Louis’ appearance to find any flaw he can exploit, but a quick
once over confirms that he shouldn’t have bothered trying.

A navy silk blouse that dips at the neckline emphasizes a set of elegant collarbones, while
dark gray trousers encasing Louis' soft curves perfectly toe the line between appropriate and
provocative. Artfully messy hair is effortless in an I spent two minutes getting ready and I
still look better than you kind of way, and the golden tone to his skin that he’s managed to
maintain in the dead of winter makes his eyes shine. As Harry’s eyes catch on Louis’ soft
pink lips, he’s almost relieved that Louis is pissing him off so much, because it’s currently the
only thing preventing him from blurting out something incredibly stupid and embarrassing
himself.

Louis cocks his hip when Harry doesn’t respond, lips twisting into a smirk. Harry rolls his
eyes.
“Well, it's been lovely talking to you,” he says dryly, taking a pointed gulp of his drink, “but
I’m genuinely worried that you’ll create a black hole if you suck any more fun out of my
night. I’m going to start having a good time, but you go ahead and enjoy kissing everyone’s
ass all night. God knows it's the only reason anyone in this room gives you the time of day.”

Louis narrows his eyes, and Harry worries for a moment that he’s taken it too far when
they’re thankfully interrupted by the host approaching them giddily with Harry's mother in
tow.

“Harry, darling, I’m so glad you were able to make it! Oh, hi there, Louis!” Mrs. Jenkins
grins giddily, overly large diamond earrings swaying as she walks. The sharp scent of her
floral perfume hits Harry a bit too strongly as she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug.

Laura Styles follows behind her much less enthusiasm, her silk gown elegantly swishing
around her legs.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it, Mrs. Jenkins, thank you for having me.” Harry says
politely.

"Now that I've caught you, I actually have a request for you," Mrs. Jenkins says, subtly
glancing at Laura before turning her focus back to Harry. "I'm not sure if your mother already
told you, but my niece Sophie just moved down to the city to start university here."

Harry flicks his eyes to his mother, who just sends him an apologetic grimace. He turns back
to Mrs. Jenkins and raises his eyebrows with feigned interest, even as he resists the urge to
roll his eyes.

“Since you’ve been going to school here for a while, I thought it would be nice if you could
get Sophie introduced to everything around here, and maybe you two could get to know each
other a bit.” Mrs. Jenkins bites her lip pensively before lowering her voice and leaning in
slightly. “I think we would both really appreciate you doing this favor for us.”

Louis snorts audibly, drawing the attention of everyone around him. Mrs. Jenkins and Laura
look over to him in shock, but he’s already returning their expressions apologetically.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he says with a demure smile. “It’s this awful winter weather, has
my airways clogged up like nothing else.”

“Of course darling, don’t you worry about that one bit,” Mrs. Jenkins placates, her eyes
softening as she takes in the way Louis lightly rubs at his nose.

Louis returns her words with a grateful smile, but surreptitiously sends Harry a wicked grin
as soon as she looks away. Harry briefly flirts with the idea of dumping the contents of his
drink over Louis' head, but quickly schools his expression when Mrs. Jenkins turns back to
him expectantly.

His mother saves him from having to flounder for a polite but dismissive response.
“Ellen, maybe now's not the best time," she says, lightly touching a hand to Mrs. Jenkins'
arm. "Harry's a bit worn out today. He’s playing the lead for his theater department's spring
production, and just attended a solo rehearsal with their director. He made his way here as
soon as it ended.”

“Of course!” Mrs. Jenkins’ eyes light up, easily distracted. “We’re all so excited to see your
performance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone your age outdo you onstage, and I’ve been
keeping track of the theater alumni at your school since before you were born.”

Harry laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know about that, I’ll just try my hardest and hope I put out
my best.”

“I'm sure you don’t have to worry about a thing. You could forget all your lines onstage and
I’m sure the Styles charm would still have everyone completely smitten,” she giggles, before
her eyes flick to the side. “And you too, Louis. It'll be wonderful seeing you perform as
well.”

She tacks on the last part belatedly, as if just remembering that Louis was still there.

Louis manages a rueful smile, looking uncharacteristically small as he trains his gaze towards
the ground.

“It’s all very exciting,” Laura cuts in. “But I think we'd better let these two young men go.
Harry, I just ran into Niall in the kitchen, and I think he was looking for you. You should
probably go and find him.”

Harry grins gratefully, about ready to kiss the ground at his mother's feet.

“Of course, thanks for letting me know.” He turns to Mrs. Jenkins, who's looking back at him
with poorly concealed disappointment. “It was great to see you, Mrs. Jenkins.”

He gives her a cheeky wave before walking off, nearly collapsing with relief as he makes his
escape.

Skirting around the perimeter of the penthouse as he heads to the kitchen, Harry uses the
brief reprieve to appreciate his surroundings. New York's abundant city lights glitter proudly
through the floor to ceiling windows, and he can see that almost every available inch of the
marbled countertops has been covered with an assortment of filled champagne glasses and
bite-sized canapés. Harry eyes the brightly-colored appetizers with interest, making a mental
note to grab a handful after he’s found Niall.

He steps through a group of people crowded at the kitchen entrance to find Niall trying to
flick a balled up cocktail napkin through a makeshift goal set up between two empty
champagne glasses, while Dylan desperately tries to defend it. Tom is standing off to the side,
alternating between sipping from a champagne glass and providing useless commentary that
only seems to be fueling the fire.

Niall stands with his back to him, gearing up to send the ball flying through the makeshift
goalposts. Naturally, Harry takes the opportunity to sneak up behind him, throwing himself at
Niall’s back right as he’s about to make the shot.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” Niall yells.

He jabs his elbow back into Harry’s stomach, trying to stay upright to prevent them both
from crashing to the ground.

Once they regain their balance, Niall looks back at Dylan, who’s cackling madly as he flicks
the ball between the champagne glasses and turns around with a smirk.

“Tough loss, Ni,” Dylan says with false sympathy.

“You little shit, I lost fifty dollars for that!” Niall berates Harry, but the wide grin on his face
prevents him from looking genuinely angry.

Harry snickers. “If you’re as good as you say you are, you shouldn’t play like shit just
because of a little distraction.”

“Little distraction, my arse,” Niall grumbles. “Where have you been all night anyway?
Someone keep you busy by offering their hand in marriage again?”

Harry rolls his eyes as Niall starts humming the tune of ‘Here Comes the Bride.’

“Yeah, and Louis fucking Tomlinson was the first person I ran into when I got here."

The boys all hum in understanding.

“I’ve been trying to sneak some hot sauce into his drink all evening,” Tom complains. “I’m
still pissed about the time we had to do that paper together and he wouldn’t let us use
Wikipedia as a source. Don’t think I ever wanted to commit homicide over a class project
before I met him.”

“Let's have it. What did the little shit have to say to you today?” Dylan asks.

Harry sighs, but is unable to drum up his earlier irritation. “He just seemed to be offended
that I was having a good time, honestly. Typical shit.”

It’s no secret that Harry and Louis aren’t particular friends, at odds with each other since they
both joined the theater department in their first year of college. The polar opposite nature of
their performing styles caused them to clash from the very beginning: Louis was diligent with
his preparation, putting in extensive time and effort to perfect every one of his roles, while
Harry was far less involved, figuring that stage acting was something you either had a knack
for or didn’t.

Louis’ was probably justified for hating him at some point. Harry isn't afraid to admit that he
was a lazy shit when he started out, joining a cohort of children of wealthy, white collar New
Yorkers whose parents forced them into extracurricular activities so they would have
something to brag about at events not unlike this one. Despite Harry's general lack of
commitment, he had given a lot of leading roles in their productions. Probably more than he
deserved. With the responsibilities practically falling into his lap, Harry decided that he might
as well give it a go, taking things more seriously and increasing his effort until his abilities
started to improve.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. But for whatever reason, Louis seemed unable to let go of
his initial impression of him. The tensions between them had hit an all-time high about a
month ago, when Harry and Louis had both auditioned for the lead in their senior production
and the part was given to Harry. Louis seemed to think that just because he followed an
arbitrary set of rules meant that he was entitled to any role he wanted, but Harry was always
ready to put him in his place.

“I have no idea why he’s got such a stick up his ass. I mean, that can't be fun for him,” Dylan
muses.

“Probably because being a perfectionist is all he’s good at. If he stopped, then he’d have
nothing left to give him that superiority complex of his,” Harry sighs. “Honestly, I don’t even
care at this point. I just don’t want to be the one who has to deal with it anymore.”

Niall snorts. “Good luck doing that when you have to play boyfriends with him for the rest of
term.”

“We’re not talking about that,” Harry mutters as Dylan and Tom snicker. It’s one of the most
absurd parts of his and Louis’ whole dynamic, that they’re so on edge around each other at all
times while being forced to get their shit together well enough to play lovers onstage.

“Come on Harry, don’t act like it’s a big chore,” Tom grins wickedly. “I don’t care how
annoying he is, I definitely wouldn’t mind having a go. An ass like that doesn’t grow on
trees, you know.”

Harry glares at him. “Watch your mouth.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

Harry scoffs, even as he feels caught out. It’s not like he hasn’t had similar thoughts of his
own, alone in the solitude of his bedroom. It's hard not to with the way Louis looks,
especially following rehearsals where Louis makes it his particular mission to drive him up a
wall. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Harry to end his day by wrapping a frustrated
hand around himself, imagining creative ways to shut Louis’ smart mouth.

He’s not proud of it, but at least he’s fully aware that Louis is his own person outside of
whatever illicit fantasies he chooses to indulge in from time to time.

Harry opens his mouth to berate Tom a bit more for his objectifying tendencies, but Niall has
had enough of the tension. He cuts off any conversation before Harry can get a word off.

“Let’s get out of here, I’m bored out of my mind. We haven’t had a lads’ night out in a while,
and that streak ends now.” He turns to Harry and claps him on the shoulder. “You can make
up for the fifty bucks you lost me by paying for my drinks tonight.”
Harry doesn’t bother arguing that covering Niall’s drinks on a night out will far exceed the
fifty dollars he supposedly cost him, desperate enough for a reason to leave.

“I’m up for it, I can book us a booth at Jacques.” Dylan pulls out his phone as the group starts
to make their way out. “It’s only five minutes away, do you all want to just walk there instead
of waiting for a car?”

“Fuck, no,” Tom grimaces. “We’re getting a car, it’s freezing outside. Since when do we walk
to clubs in the middle of January?”

“Jesus, I was just asking so we don’t end up waiting ten minutes for a car to get to a club
that’s five minutes away! Why don’t you just order the car instead of bitching about it to all
of us?”

Harry and Niall share a look as they follow their bickering friends out the door. It’s a
welcome distraction as Harry lets all thoughts of blue eyes and a sharp tongue out of his
mind.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

Forgetting about Louis is always easier said than done, especially when they have to spend
two hours every weekday evening in each other’s pockets.

Harry stands rigidly straight onstage, feeling blood rush through his ears as it drowns out the
sounds of distant chatter. Louis’ shoulder feels firm under his hand, the warmth of his skin
bleeding through his cashmere sweater. Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly caresses Louis’
side as he brings his left hand up his body, cringing as Louis remains stiff and unresponsive.

Hiding a wince when he accidentally brushes over a patch of exposed skin near Louis'
collarbone, Harry resolutely ignores the way Louis openly glares at him as he moves through
the scene. He feels stretched thin, struggling to follow the script’s cues while being conscious
of Louis’ own comfort level, all while maintaining the right emotional tone onstage.

Continuing to ignore Louis’ murderous glances, Harry concentrates on putting himself into
the mindset of his character, Sam LaRocca. It’s much harder than it should be when all he can
think about is the fact that he’s Harry and it’s Louis standing right in front of him, eyes
fluttering shut when Harry makes contact with his skin. Even if it is immediately followed by
a withering glare.

It doesn’t help the awkwardness of the situation that Harry’s constantly thinking about
dragging Louis away from everyone in the theater and crowding him up against a wall,
especially since there are multiple people standing a short distance away, scrutinizing their
every move.
Liam eventually runs an exasperated hand over his face and calls it after their third straight
unsuccessful completion of the scene. “Okay, that’s enough, end scene.”

Harry sighs inwardly and catches the way Louis winces as they turn towards their director,
bracing themselves.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what I thought of that performance,” Liam starts, looking at
both of them pointedly. “I keep feeling like I'm watching Harry and Louis when you're
performing, when I want to feel like I'm seeing Sam and Joey. What exactly is your plan to
stop looking like a couple of twelve year olds at their first school dance and start acting like
two adults who are supposed to be falling in love?”

It’s silent for a beat as they look down, properly chastised before Louis decides to speak up.

“Sorry, Li. I think we’re just not super comfortable with each other right now. We’ll work on
it,” he says apologetically.

“No shit,” Liam scoffs. “I want to see improvements, and I want to see them quickly. We
have our department's fundraiser in less than a month, and it’s not going to help us bring in
donations if it looks like our two leads can’t stand each other. More importantly, I want to
show everyone that our theater department is more than a bunch of trust fund kids playing
dress up, and I’m trusting you both enough to not let me down. Do I make myself clear?”

They reply with a jumbled mix of “of course, Li,” and “sorry, Li,” but Liam just raises an
eyebrow at them.

“Get to work!” he shouts over his shoulder as he walks away.

“Well, that was one of the most uncomfortable things I’ve ever had to deal with,” Louis says
once Liam disappears from view. “Are you sure you’ve ever touched a man romantically
before?”

Harry glares at him. “Of course I have. Definitely more than your sorry ass.”

“Wow. My condolences to them.”

“There’s no need for your condolences. You’d be amazed how different I am with someone
when I actually want to put my hands on them.”

Louis hums disinterestedly. “Well, try not to fuck it up next time, and then we won’t get our
asses handed to us by Liam. I’m not interested in going through that again, so I’d love it if
you could be just a bit more competent onstage.”

Harry’s mouth drops open in shock, which quickly morphs into irritation. “What the fuck are
you talking about? How is any of this my fault?”

“You’re inconsistent, and your acting is lazy,” Louis replies immediately. “It’s painfully
obvious that you don’t put in an ounce of extra work when the energy you bring to the scene
is different every time we do a run-through. It doesn’t just make you look bad, but I also end
up scrambling to figure out how I’m supposed to be reacting.”
“It’s a romantic scene, Louis, you just respond how you would if you were in that situation in
real life. Emotional expression shouldn’t be rehearsed down to the last detail, you know.
Maybe that’s what’s making the scene so shit. Who the fuck practices how to respond to
something like that?”

Louis gives him a stony look. “You would think that. Anything to avoid putting in some
proper work, isn’t it? Do you really think it’s fine to be sweet and fleeting with your touches
one day and make the scene sensual the next? Some of these things can’t be decided on
performance day, Harry. It messes with the cadence and emotional build up of the entire
play.”

Harry closes his mouth, momentarily caught off guard. Behind all the unnecessary
aggression, Louis might actually have a point. It’s a bit harder to accept when he makes said
point without disguising his open contempt towards Harry’s efforts.

While it’s a memory Harry wishes to forget, there was a time not long ago when he had
intensely sought Louis’ approval. Despite the rotating carousel of bitterness and resentment
that has built up between them since then, that part of him remains hard to stifle.

Sometimes, he still feels like the eighteen year old version of himself that had been a bit
enamored with the beautiful boy who was able to command the stage with a controlled sort of
grace. He remembers showing up to rehearsals bright-eyed and giddy, ready to find excuses
to spend time with Louis, from offering to carry his books, to asking him for advice on
improving a scene that he really didn’t give two shits about. It had stung, and possibly broken
his heart a little bit when the object of his admiration had looked down on him from the
moment they first met. Years later, Harry still has trouble letting that go.

“I’m going to be coming up with a rehearsal schedule for us to make sure we can figure this
out, and I expect you to stick to it without any excuses. It’s the least you can do if you’re not
going to put in the work on your own. Am I clear?” Louis continues when Harry doesn’t
respond, leaving little room for argument. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry blinks, and then Louis is gone.

"See you tomorrow," Harry mutters to himself before sighing, picking up the script to give
his scenes another go.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

“Come on, Niall. When’s the last time we did something stupid like this?”

“Look, it’s not that I’m against getting wasted on a weeknight, but I’ve got a huge assignment
due tomorrow. There’s no way I’m going to risk not graduating just to take some shots with
you dickheads on a Wednesday,” Niall responds, face buried in his Econ textbook.
“Let it go, Harry. The car’s going to get here any second,” Tom urges.

“I’m blowing off a paper too, it’s not a big deal, Ni,” Harry begs.

Harry knows that he’s being more than a bit whiny. But after being fresh off of a rehearsal
where he and Louis had been pressed up against each other the whole time while Louis
continuously threw barbs his way, he’s in desperate need of letting off a lot of frustration,
sexual and otherwise.

Unfortunately, Niall has had enough of Harry’s insistence. He turns around in his seat to level
him with a stare.

“Well, congratulations to you, but not everyone has professors so far up their ass that they’ll
pass their classes no matter how much they blow things off. Some of us actually have to try
every now and then.”

Harry furrows his brows, taken aback. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You heard me,” Niall says, looking back down at this book. Before Harry has the chance to
make Niall explain exactly what he’s on about, Tom grabs his arm and tugs him out the door.

“The car’s outside. I don’t want him to leave and have to wait for another one.”

Harry turns back, but Niall refuses to look up from his work, and he follows after Tom
reluctantly.

Harry steps out when their car pulls up to the club, coming to a standstill once he gets a good
look at the building in front of them.

“Hey, Tom?” Dylan says, also looking apprehensively at the swooping letters spelling out
Devil May Care, joined with a silhouetted image of a dancer swinging around a pole. “What
the fuck is this?”

“Thought we could do something different tonight,” Tom explains, looking pleased with
himself.

“It’s a fucking strip club, Tom, what are we doing here?” Dylan asks incredulously.

“Okay, first of all, you need to relax." Tom mockingly claps Dylan on the shoulder as Dylan
scowls back at him. "It’s basically just a regular nightclub. Only this one happens to be
known for its hired dancers.”

“So, a strip club, then,” Dylan says flatly.

“Maybe,” Tom shrugs. “Look, it’s a great way to blow off steam and we're definitely not
going run into someone we know in a place like this. Thought it might be nice not to worry
about that for once.” He looks at the two of them expectantly.
“Honestly, as long as they have drinks and music I really don’t give a shit,” Harry says,
quickly growing impatient as the cold starts to seep into his skin through the thin fabric of his
shirt. “Let’s go inside instead of standing around like idiots and freezing to death out here.”

Dylan grumbles something about his parents revoking his spending privileges if he’s caught
at a place like this, but begrudgingly follows them through the door.

The difference in temperature and noise level is jarring once they enter the building. The
stuffy air hits Harry like a wave, and the deep bass of the music feels like it’s reverberating
through his bones. It takes him a few seconds for him to adjust after they check their coats
before fully being able to take in his surroundings.

It seems that Tom was telling the truth. Devil May Care isn’t all that different from the
average luxury nightclub, boasting a sleek black interior with gold accents on the crystal light
fixtures, and leather furniture. There are couples flirting by the bar, a swirling mass of bodies
spread out on the dance floor, and attractive servers carrying trays of brightly colored
cocktails to the VIP booths tucked into the back of the space. The only part of the whole
setup that immediately stands out are the barely-clothed dancers putting on shows in the gold
cages interspersed throughout the room.

Harry claps his friends on their shoulders once he spots the bar. “I’m going to grab a drink,”
he shouts over the music, making his way through the crowd.

After managing to get the bartender’s attention fairly quickly, Harry leisurely sips on his
cosmo while he surveys the crowd. A good amount of time has passed without him seeing
anyone he particularly wants to chat up, and he’s about to go look for his friends when
someone slides up next to him at the bar counter.

“Jack and coke, please,” says a boy with blonde hair, brown eyes, and a small, toned body.
He turns to Harry as soon as he’s done ordering with a flirty smile.

“You look like the kind of person who comes here often,” the boy says, his eyes drifting
down to Harry’s chest, lingering on his tattoos, before returning to make eye contact.

“Believe it or not, it’s my first time in,” Harry grins at him. “Been waiting for someone to
show me around.”

The other boy matches his smile, fluttering his eyelashes up at him. “I’d love to help you get
familiar with the place.”

Harry downs his drink, leaving the glass on the bar counter as the boy smirks, grabbing his
hand and pulling him into the swirling mess of couples on the dance floor.

Harry zips up his jeans as he exits the club’s bathroom thirty minutes later, sweaty, flushed
and sated. It wasn’t the best head he’s ever gotten, but he didn’t put his all into getting the
other boy off either, so he figures that they’re even.
It’s just what he needed tonight, and he’s ready to rejoin his friends and dance to the shitty
EDM playlist blaring through the club until he can’t move his limbs.

As Harry weaves through the crowd, he cranes his neck to look out for familiar faces until he
spots an unexpected one on the dance floor that has him choking on his spit.

He freezes in place as his eyes sweep over the all too recognizable figure of Louis Tomlinson,
unmistakable in a glittering cropped vest and a painted-on pair of matching shorts. Swiveling
his hips slowly in one of the golden cages, his stunning figure is on full display as he pulls in
the gazes of everyone in his line of sight.

Harry stares openly, waiting for a sign that his mind is playing tricks on him. No matter how
many times he blinks, the scene in front of him remains unchanged.

Louis slowly moves through his choreographed routine, slowly dragging his hand down his
chest before coming to rest on his navel. There’s a group of onlookers egging him on, some
of them reaching through the slats of the cage to try and put their hands on his body. Harry’s
hand twitches when he sees a man thumb over the strip of exposed skin at the bottom of
Louis’ stomach, feeling the irrational urge to bat the offending hand away and replace it with
his own. Louis deals with the unsolicited touches carefully by subtly shaking the mens’ hands
off him while sending them a cheeky wink over his shoulder.

His expression is flirty and his movements are suggestive, but that same detached, faraway
look remains in his eyes, making the whole scene instantly much less appealing. Despite
everything, Harry feels a primal need to pull Louis from of the literal cage he's held in and
shield him from the leering gazes that pass over him unabashedly.

Harry is still frozen in place, mouth dry and staring like a lunatic when Tom and Dylan find
him. They start berating him for disappearing for a quick fuck during what was supposed to
be a boy’s night, but get over it quickly once they follow Harry’s line of sight.

“Holy shit, is that–” Tom starts, and that jolts Harry into action. He grabs both of his friends
by the arm and pulls them away, panic spreading through him as the only thought on his mind
is to get them away .

“What the fuck was that?” Dylan asks once Harry lets go of them and deposits them in a far
away corner of the club.

“You two are going to say nothing,” Harry commands, heart racing. “Louis Tomlinson is my
problem, and you’re going to let me deal with this.”

Dylan and Tom look at him with wide eyes, until Tom breaks out into a wicked grin.
“Alright, Harry! Can’t say I’m thrilled about not being involved, but it’s worth it if you’re
finally getting back at the little shit.”

Harry chuckles awkwardly. He latently realizes that he’s stumbled upon some excellent
material that he can use to mess with Louis, but Dylan and Tom being in on the situation
makes waves of dread churn in his gut.
Thankfully, the two of them quickly agree with Harry’s demands and fall back into the night
easily, slamming shots and hitting the dance floor with questionable moves. But throughout
the haze of alcohol and laughter, Harry remains distant, reeling from the images that have
been permanently burned into his memory.

It’s not until the next day at rehearsals where Louis sits looking perfectly composed in a
cream-colored button down that the weight of his discovery truly sinks in. The contrast
between this pretentious, put together version of Louis and the heavy-lidded siren Harry saw
last night is so stark that if he hadn’t made sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he might have
second guessed what he saw.

Every sharp word that Louis used against him when Harry would spend his nights going out,
or not so-subtly making jabs at Harry's reputation for short flings and one-night stands swirls
through his mind as he pictures Louis putting his body on display for a group of strangers. In
public. The same uptight, image-conscious Louis Tomlinson that Harry's come to know over
the past four years.

A thrill shoots up Harry's spine as ideas of how he can use his newly acquired knowledge to
mess with Louis race through his mind, and he's unable to hold back a grin as he settles back
into his auditorium seat. Louis Tomlinson’s perfectly constructed facade is crumbling before
him, and he has no idea what’s coming.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·
 Chapter 2

Panels of light illuminate the swirling dust in the air, deep, woody aromas of the old support
beams seep into his senses, and the low, buzzing chatter of dozens of people’s conversations
make the building thrum with energy. It’s always been enough to pull him out from the
depths of his own mind, but today, Louis feels nothing as he sets foot into the auditorium. He
would lament the way one of his life’s sole comforts had slowly lost its appeal if he had the
energy, but he settles for rolling his right shoulder as he reaches the front of the stage, the
muscles still a bit sore from overextending himself last night.

His phone buzzes again in his pocket, hasn’t stopped buzzing for the last few hours. Louis
knows the situation will be worse for him the longer he goes without answering, but he revels
in these little pockets of peace, the slivers of time where he gets to pretend that the walls
aren’t closing in on him.

He’s tired.

It’s hitting him particularly strongly today, as he tries to wipe the fatigue from his eyes and
prepares to get through today’s rehearsal on autopilot.

Which is why it’s all the more alarming to walk onstage to the sight of Harry Styles greeting
him with a genuine, blinding smile.

“Hi, Louis!” He says cheerfully. “How are you today?”

He’s wearing an expression that can only be described as devious innocence, dimples and
chin-length curls only amplifying the effect. Louis stares at him before realizing that Harry is
actually expecting an answer.

“I’m fine,” he says cautiously, checking Harry's face for any sign that this is all some big
joke. “How are you?”

“I’m doing wonderfully,” Harry replies, grin widening impossibly.

“That’s great,” Louis says blankly.

He's unable to stop the concern from showing on his face as he moves to center stage,
catching Liam’s eye as he walks over. The director only looks excited at this development,
undoubtedly thrilled that his leads have seemingly worked through the tension that has been
hanging over rehearsals like a dark cloud.

Louis knows that a lot of the blame for this lies with him, but it's not entirely his fault.

While Louis can begrudgingly admit that Harry had a natural sort of ease and charm that
made a character seem genuine and relatable to an audience, it wasn’t a replacement for
proper time and practice. It's infuriating, the way Harry could just waltz into the room with
his good looks and that ridiculous dimple, taking over people’s dreams without putting in any
effort just because he could.

And maybe Louis is bitter, and his hatred for Harry doesn't just come down to his acting
skills. Maybe it's the fact that Harry is unconditionally supported by everyone he surrounds
himself with, while Louis returns to a home where he's treated as a failure and a pawn.
Maybe it's that despite a privileged upbringing, Louis scrounges for money in a job where
he's regularly disrespected and objectified because he doesn't have another option, while
Harry gets anything he wants with a snap of his fingers.

In some ways, Harry playing the lead in their final performance had been Louis' last straw,
and had led to him possibly treating Harry a little more harshly than he deserved. At this
point, it seems that neither of them think it's worth making amends before their graduation
just a few months away.

Which is why Harry’s behavior today is so disconcerting.

“I think we need to work on our scene transitions,” Louis says, ignoring him for now.
“You've been having issues with them, which means they're a problem for me, too. You
should probably start figuring that out so we're not a hot mess on performance day.”

Louis is fully prepared for that comment to earn him a scoff and an eye roll, at the very least.
But Harry just smiles easily and says “that’s a great idea, Louis,” before moving to his mark
without a fight.

Louis blinks. He’s spent years trying to get Harry to take his input, and should be thrilled.
Liam certainly is, to the point where he’s happy to leave them unsupervised for the rest of
rehearsals. Unfortunately, Louis isn’t an idiot. The complete one-eighty that Harry has done
is sudden enough that there’s no way he isn’t up to something, and the apprehensiveness
crawling up the back of Louis’ spine doesn’t let up throughout the entire rehearsal.

Louis' internal turmoil worsens once they run through the more tactile scenes. Harry’s
previous discomfort with Louis seems to have completely evaporated. He’s much more
confident in the way he lets his hands roam all over Louis’ body, delivering his lines with
passion and intensity. He slowly strokes a thumb over Louis’ waist, wide green eyes intent
and earnest while Louis struggles to fight the unwelcome feeling of a blush spreading across
his cheeks. Harry’s newfound confidence is working wonders for allowing the scene to feel
natural, but it’s almost criminal in the way it’s sending Louis into bouts of unwanted arousal.

Any lingering concern goes out the window, however, when Harry ends yet another scene off
his mark. Louis has to adjust at the last minute, causing their limbs to tangle together and
almost sending them to the ground.

He shoves Harry away from him as soon as he manages to right himself.

“What the fuck,” he hisses, glaring at Harry when all he does is brush his pants off and shrug.

“I’m wondering whether or not you practiced at all last week,” Louis sneers. “Although I’m
not sure which answer to that question would reflect worse on you.”
“Me ?” Harry has the audacity to look indignant. “Are you aware that you’re going through
your scenes like a fucking robot? How is this supposed to look natural if you’re so goddamn
rigid ?”

Louis falters as he feels his chest start to tighten. His jaw clenches, but Harry is continuing on
before he gets a chance to respond.

“You know, it might help your rhythm if you had a more devil-may-care attitude about your
acting,” he suggests innocently. “I have a feeling that you would be really good at breaking
out of your cage and letting loose a bit.”

Louis freezes. Cold tendrils of dread spread through his chest as he tries in vain to school his
expression.

Harry doesn’t know. He can’t.

Louis had always been so careful, had spent months searching for a place across the city that
no one in their circles could possibly know about.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Louis demands, latching on to the hope that
Harry’s word choice is just a cruel coincidence.

“I said,” Harry repeats slowly, stepping forward confidently upon seeing Louis’ reaction, “I
think you could use a more devil-may-care attitude with your acting, and let yourself out of
your cage a bit. I think it’ll really improve our ability to work together.”

Louis’ blood runs cold as realization of what Harry’s insinuating fully sinks in.

“You– how do you–” Louis stammers, before attempting to compose himself, fighting off the
tidal wave of fear that threatens to wash him away in its wake. “No. You don’t. You don’t
know.”

Every protest falling from his lips is in vain, because despite what he keeps telling himself,
Harry knows.

Harry’s widening smirk is answer enough as he takes another step towards him, walking up
until he’s right in Louis’ space. “No need to be so shy. You definitely weren’t when you were
on that stage last night,” he murmurs, giving Louis’ body a very deliberate once-over.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Louis grits as his cheeks heat up, the mystery of Harry’s behavior
clearing up to provide a horrifying revelation.

“You look like you need some time to process things,” Harry whispers with false-earnestness.
Sliding a hand under Louis’ chin, Harry tilts his head so Louis is forced to look up at him.
“Why don’t we take a little break and start up again later so you can mull things over?”

"I, um," Louis says helplessly as blood rushes through his ears. “I'll see you.”

Harry hums. “Talk to you soon, Louis,” he says, sending him a shit-eating grin before
sauntering off.
Frozen in place, Louis spends a few minutes trying to regulate his breathing before turning to
pack up his things with trembling fingers. He gathers everything as quickly as he possibly
can before fleeing the auditorium. Hot tears prick behind his eyelids as he steps out into the
cold air, huddling in on himself during the long trek home, but he waits until he’s safely
inside his apartment before he finally allows them to fall.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

Louis doesn’t bother changing out of the t-shirt and form-fitting joggers that he fell asleep in,
limbs filled with lead as he drags himself to dance rehearsals on Monday evening. An ugly
pit of dread sits in his stomach as he braces himself before stepping into the theater’s
building.

While the auditorium had long stopped sparking joy in him the way it used to, he had never
walked into it with this miserable feeling of foreboding. Louis bitterly adds his former safe
haven to the list of things in his life that Harry Styles has ruined for him.

Deep down, Louis doesn’t believe Harry is capable of doing anything truly malicious. But
there’s enough bad blood between them to cast doubt, to make him feel sick with nerves as he
walks through the hallways to reach the dance studio. His heart catches in his throat every
time someone looks his way, half-expecting them to start whispering and pointing at him.

Louis breathes out a sigh of relief once he makes it through the door of the dance studio, only
to be met with Harry waiting for him inside with a self satisfied smile. Biceps prominent
through the thin fabric of his white t-shirt, he leans against the back wall with his arms
crossed leisurely. It’s truly despicable, the way he looks so at ease while he’s responsible for
the way Louis’ entire future hangs in the balance.

“How was your weekend, Louis?” Harry asks with that insufferable grin.

Complete shit, thanks to you. A good night’s sleep has become a fantasy .

“It was fine,” Louis answers curtly. He’s torn between wanting to limit their conversation to
as few words as possible and grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him until he just
tells him what he’s playing at. “Should we get started?”

He deposits his bag down by the door, ignoring Harry as he walks over to the speaker to put
on the music. Harry slowly peels himself off the wall, still smirking slightly as he steps into
Louis’ space so they can begin their routine.

Every muscle in Louis’ body remains taut with tension as he goes through the motions, doing
his best not to react to the feeling of Harry’s hands on his body as he keeps looking at him
with that smug grin. This self-satisfied version of Harry is not something he's used to. Louis
loathes it almost as much as it makes him want to drop to his knees on the spot.
“I meant what I said, you know,” Harry speaks up eventually, taking advantage of their
closeness to lean down so his lips are brushing the shell of Louis’ ear. “You look incredible
when you just loosen up a little bit. I’d love it if you tried it out, I think a lot of people would
really appreciate seeing some of your extracurricular skills at work.”

Louis sends Harry a fierce glare even as his cheeks flush tellingly.

“Who exactly do you think you are to be giving me advice on how to dance?”

Harry grins. “Someone who's seen you at your full potential.”

Trepidation, anger and arousal grapple for dominance in Louis’ mind, but he refuses to let
Harry get away with it. Letting Harry’s stupidly smug face be a motivator to push through
how flustered he is, Louis steps up his game.

Relaxing his body, Louis lets himself flow easily from one movement to the next with
practiced expertise. He turns in Harry’s hold, arching his back as he lets himself be dipped
then brought back to standing. He lets out a small smile at the way that Harry has gone silent,
the cocky look on his face wiped off in favor of darkened eyes and slightly parted lips.

The air between them is electric, the tension almost stifling as they complete their routine in
charged silence. They finish with Harry’s chest positioned just inches away from Louis’ back,
his hands placed lightly on Louis’ hips while Louis reaches back to wrap his arms around
Harry’s neck. Neither of them move a muscle.

They remain completely still even as the music shuts off and the room is plunged into silence,
save for the sounds of their heavy breathing.

Louis knows that he should break away. His best option is to deal with the temporary
awkwardness, and not risk complicating his life further. The feeling of Harry's hands on the
body eliminates any rational thought in his mind.

Slowly but surely, he moves back in Harry’s hold, curving his back slightly until his bum
brushes up against Harry’s crotch. It’s cautious, tentative, but he knows Harry’s felt it when
he hears his sharp intake of breath. His grip tightens around Louis’ hips, pulling him in
closer.

“What exactly,” Harry murmurs into his ear, voice dropping almost unnaturally low, “do you
think you’re doing?”

Louis shudders when he feels the hot puffs of breath on the back of his neck, biting down on
his lip to stifle a moan. Repeating the action with confidence upon Harry’s reaction, Louis
slowly presses back against him with more enthusiasm.

Harry groans as he slides one of his hands up so it sneaks under the fabric of Louis' shirt,
leaning in to nose up the back of Louis’ neck.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, pushing his hips forward to meet Louis’ ass on every
grind.
Louis finally dares to look up at Harry over his shoulder, twisting slightly in his hold. His
mouth parts at the way Harry’s eyes have darkened, pupils blown out fully.

That’s all Louis has time to process before Harry’s plush lips are pressing against his, hard
and demanding. The kiss immediately turns dirty, full of unfiltered desire as Harry demands
entrance into Louis’ mouth with his tongue. He suddenly pulls back, only to flip Louis
around so that they’re face to face.

Not even pausing for a breath as he dives back in, Harry continues sucking and biting at
Louis’ lips until it leaves him breathless. His hands lie low on Louis’ back, testing the waters
as he inches closer to the curve of his ass.

Louis is fully aware that this is a reckless decision at best, and a catastrophic one at worst.
But Harry’s hands are confident and insistent as they run all over his body, the size of his
rapidly hardening cock that Louis can feel through his pants making him dizzy with want,
and Louis has never cared less.

Louis doesn’t stop him, doesn’t want to stop him as his hands continue their path down until
they’re resting possessively over Louis’ bum. Harry grabs one cheek in each hand and gives
them a firm squeeze, unable to stifle a groan as Louis pulls out of their kiss to gasp.

“Your ass is incredible,” Harry mumbles against his lips as he continues gripping and
kneading at the muscle, manhandling him in all the right ways. They both take the
opportunity to catch their breath, panting against each other with their foreheads touching.

“I have stuff in my bag,” Harry finally says, looking to Louis with a question in his eyes.

Louis swallows. He tries to use the momentary reprieve to tame his heart rate and regain
some semblance of control.

“Why don’t you go get it then, if you’re so eager?”

He tries for overconfidence, but the breathy way his words leave him ruin the illusion.

Harry chuckles, running a hand up Louis’ back until his fingers rest over the hairs at the base
of his neck.

“I know you’re used to bossing me around when we’re together, but that’s not how today’s
going to go,” he murmurs condescendingly. “We’re playing by my rules.” He emphasizes his
point by tangling his fingers into his hair and pulling Louis’ head back so he’s forced to look
up at him. “I’m going to grab what we need from my bag and you’re going to be naked with
your hands on the barre in front of the mirror by the time I’m back. Am I understood?”

Louis’ eyelids flutter, a tremor running up his spine at the raw, commanding edge to Harry’s
voice. It's a new side to him that Louis never saw coming, and he's all too willing to let Harry
take what he wants from him.

“Yeah, okay,” is all he breathes out before Harry kisses him hard and crosses the room.
Louis scrambles to get to the front of the studio, strangely desperate to comply with Harry’s
demand. Making quick work of his t-shirt and joggers, he feels a bit exposed as he grabs the
barre and bends over to await Harry’s return.

Footsteps sound as Louis hears rather than sees Harry walk up to the mirror. He feels the heat
of a large palm pressing down on him, manipulating his back into a slight arch. Harry’s hands
run slowly up his back before immediately returning back down to palm over his ass,
massaging the cheeks leisurely before pulling them apart, exposing him to the cool air.

Harry moves a hand to leisurely stroke a dry finger over Louis’ hole, while Louis quickly
loses patience.

“Planning on getting started any time soon? Your cock can’t possibly be big enough that you
need to take this long.”

Harry doesn’t grace him with a response. He instead chooses to sneak an arm around to the
front of Louis’ thighs, using the leverage to press his hard, still clothed cock against the bare
skin of Louis' bum. His joggers are thin enough that Louis can feel his considerable size
through the fabric, and he can’t stop his breath from hitching at the sensation.

“I don’t have to prep you, you know. If you think you can take my cock right now, I’m not
going to be the one to stop you.”

Louis instantly regrets his attitude, feeling a spike of panic as he tries to backtrack frantically.

“No, sorry. I’m just– I was kidding. Please, can you keep going?”

It’s silent for a few beats, long enough that Louis cringes at the way the raw vulnerability in
his voice rings through the air. He slowly raises his head to make eye contact with Harry
through the mirror, squirming at the way he’s staring back with his brows furrowed, the
corners of his mouth turned down.

“Louis, I wasn’t being serious,” he says carefully, letting his cocky demeanor drop as he runs
a soothing hand up Louis’ side. “I’m not going to hurt you. You go ahead and tell me if I'm
doing anything you don't like, okay?”

Louis bites his lip, avoiding Harry’s eye. The tenderness in his voice is almost too much to
handle, and he doesn't know what to say.

Harry’s brows furrow further at Louis’ silence. “You do want this, right?” He looks back at
Louis apprehensively, as if there was actually a universe in which he would say no.

“Of course I do,” Louis grumbles, moving his hips back as a signal for Harry to get on with
it. “Please.”

It’s too desperate, Louis knows it as Harry grins wickedly at him in the mirror, cocky
demeanor back in full force.

“No need to be so smug about it,” Louis snaps.

“Have you seen yourself? Of course I’m going to be smug about it.” Harry punctuates his
statement by grabbing Louis' ass in his hands, spreading the cheeks apart before letting them
bounce back into place. Louis feels himself flush, unsure whether it’s more from the gesture
or the admission.

Choosing the moment to strip out of his clothes, Harry finally exposes his tattooed chest, the
hard lines of muscle as he reaches over to grab the lube and pop the cap off. Drizzling the gel
generously over his fingers, Harry warms it up in his hand before Louis feels a wet finger
slowly circling his rim.

“Ready?” Harry asks.

“Yes. Please.”

“So polite,” Harry murmurs under his breath, pushing his finger inside before Louis can
make a snarky comment.

Louis hisses at the intrusion, standing with his legs apart as Harry takes his sweet time
working up to two, then three fingers. He alternates between pushing them deep inside and
scissoring them to spread Louis open. While Louis appreciates that he’s taking care, he’s
been more than ready for ages.

Luckily, Harry seems to be on the same page as he finally slides his fingers out, leaving Louis
clenching around the sudden emptiness. Wiping his slick fingers off on his stomach, Harry
picks up the condom packet and tears it open. Louis can see his hands moving to roll on the
condom in the mirror, as he slicks himself up generously before bracing himself with a hand
on Louis’ back. Breath hitching as he feels the blunt head of Harry’s cock pressing against
his hole, it suddenly hits Louis that they’re really doing this.

“Not going to lie, I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” Harry murmurs, practically
reading Louis’ thoughts as he bottoms out.

It’s an overwhelming feeling, having a cock that size filling him up so well. The stretch is
considerable despite Harry’s careful prep, but it mostly feels so incredibly good that Louis
hardly notices.

Harry’s eyes are squeezed shut and his eyebrows are pulled together when he’s fully in,
pausing for a breath to collect himself.

“You alright back there?” Louis teases.

“Fine,” Harry grits out. “Just wondering how you’re so fucking tight when you’ve constantly
got a stick up your ass.”

“Good one. Are you going to stand there all day wondering or are you actually going to do
something about it?”

Harry huffs out a frustrated laugh as the hand on Louis’ back presses down more firmly. “Do
you normally talk back this much to the person fucking you?”
He drags his cock out slowly before slamming back in hard, making Louis let out an
embarrassing whimper.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be able to if you did your job properly,” Louis says through a gasp.

Harry smirks as he makes eye contact with Louis in the mirror. He moves his hands to grip
Louis’ waist and snaps his hips forward swiftly, giving Louis no time to adjust to his pace.
Biting his lip, Louis desperately tries to keep his moans in to no avail, the sounds escaping
without permission.

“Is this what you wanted, baby? Giving me so much attitude so I would have to put you in
your place?”

“Fuck,” Louis chokes out, letting his head drop as Harry starts pounding into him relentlessly.

"Is this want you want?" Harry repeats. "Tell me."

"You already know what I want," Louis grits out, frustrated when Harry starts slowing his
pace.

"I want to hear you say it."

Louis nearly groans with frustration. He clenches his jaw as Harry's slows his pace
excruciatingly, making Louis feel every inch of the drag. He doesn't want to give in, but he
would also do just about anything right now to get Harry moving inside him with that
insatiable vigor again.

Lifting his head up to glare at Harry through the mirror, Louis clenches around him until he
feels Harry's hips stutter. "I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget how much I hate seeing
your stupid face."

Harry grins wolfishly, squeezing Louis' hip once before gradually working back up to his
brutal pace. "Was that so hard, baby?"

Louis opens his mouth to tell him off, but a sharp thrust has him cursing and dropping his
head once again. This time, Harry quickly grabs him by his hair and yanks him back up,
tutting.

“None of that. I want to be able to see exactly what I’m doing to you at all times. Eyes on the
mirror unless I say otherwise.”

Louis' own wrecked expression looks back at him when he glances up. Face flushed red and
hair sticking out haphazardly, his eyes are glazed over and mouth parts slightly every time
Harry thrusts in. Louis tries not to stare, but it’s hard not to with the view he has of Harry’s
biceps bulging as his grip tightens, the way his abs contract as he pounds into Louis’ body.

“God, Louis, you're so fucking tight. Feels amazing,” Harry pants, looking back and forth
between the expression of pleasure on Louis’ face and the view of his cock disappearing into
Louis’ body. “Wish I had known all along that this was all I needed to do to shut you up.
Would have done it ages ago.”
The snarky comment Louis attempts in response comes out as a strangled groan. Sweat starts
to pool all over his skin, and Harry’s hands start slipping from where he’s holding Louis’ hips
in a bruising grip. It’s difficult to concentrate on anything but the sensation of Harry’s cock
inside him as the room goes silent, with nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin
and their grunts and moans filling the air. Until Harry decides to change his angle, a powerful
thrust nearly making Louis white out with pleasure.

“Oh god, right there, fuck!” Louis cries out.

Harry shifts his body to maintain the angle, nailing Louis’ prostate every time he drives in.

Louis’ arms start to tremble as he tightens his grip around the bar, not sure how much longer
he can hold himself up. His feet start slipping out from under him, sliding further apart even
as he does his best to stay upright from the force of Harry’s thrusts.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” Harry grunts, so Louis gives up and keeps his legs spread out wide,
allowing Harry to push in that much deeper.

“Are you close?” Harry pants.

Louis’ unable to give him anything but a series of barely vocalized moans as a response, lost
to pleasure from the near constant pressure on his prostate. His cock remains achingly hard
where it lies untouched against his stomach.

Slowly sliding one of his hands up Louis’ front, Harry tweaks one of his nipples harshly. He
continues his path upwards until he’s lightly wrapping a hand around Louis’ throat, using the
leverage to pull him up and press his back against Harry’s front, giving Louis a full view of
everything he’s doing to him.

"This okay?"

"Yes, more," Louis begs, beyond the point of feeling embarrassed at how much he wants.

Harry wraps his free hand around Louis’ cock and starts jerking him off in time with his
thrusts, and that’s all Louis can take. The pleasure he’s experiencing from all angles is nearly
blinding, and it only takes Harry putting the slightest bit of pressure around his throat until
his eyes screw shut and he’s coming all over himself with a gasp.

“Fuck, Louis. Holy shit, that was amazing,” Harry babbles.

His thrusts start to get sloppy as he nears his own orgasm. Mouthing wetly over Louis’
shoulder, Harry pushes in deeply one last time, coming inside the condom with a groan.

Harry stays plastered to Louis for a minute to catch his breath before slowly pulling out.
Louis winces at the empty feeling as his legs start to wobble, nearly giving out as he uses all
his remaining strength to hold himself upright at the barre. Harry comes back with a towel,
quickly wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist to support him while using the other to gently
swipe it over the mess on Louis’ stomach. Both of them staunchly avoid eye contact.
It’s when Harry chances a look up to meet Louis’ eye that everything suddenly comes
crashing down for him, eyes widening as he tears himself out of Harry’s grip.

“That was good, great practice,” Louis rambles as he pulls away, refusing to look at Harry as
he dives towards his pile of clothes on the ground. “We’ll have to schedule another practice
session since we didn’t get through as much today as we should have, so please check your
email for the update.”

Louis has no idea what the fuck he’s saying as he frantically pulls on his pants and throws his
shirt on, inside out, before running out of the studio completely barefoot.

Fleeing a drama rehearsal for the second time that week, Louis marvels at his ability to make
a situation so much worse than when it started.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

Louis presses two fingers between his neck and his shirt collar, pulling the fabric away as
discreetly as he can to get some cool air against his skin. He shamelessly continues sucking
up to the multitude of wealthy alumni gathered in the ballroom, maintaining a charming
smile throughout every conversation.

He ignores the way a piece of him dies every time he lets out a hearty laugh at the same
second rate finance joke that has been cracked by a succession of interchangeable old men,
pushing through the tedious conversation until he finally hits his selling point. He casually
drops in a mention of the donation booth at the front of the room, not leaving until everyone
in the circle has agreed to make some kind of contribution to the theater department.

Under the pretense of needing to exchange his empty champagne glass for a fresh one, Louis
finally excuses himself and makes a beeline to the back of the event space. He's pleasantly
surprised when the area around the drinks trays is relatively uncrowded.

The drama department’s fundraising gala appears to be going well, and Louis figures that
he’s earned himself a break. The ballroom is a lot warmer than he anticipated, and he curses
his choice of all-black formal attire, positive that it’s causing him to overheat at twice the
normal rate.

He checks his watch, groaning when he sees that he barely has another thirty minutes before
he has to leave for work. Louis nearly slumps with exhaustion just thinking about having to
be on his feet for another two hours. He grabs a champagne glass off one of the trays, ready
to down the entire thing in one go when he feels a presence slide up next to him.

Louis tenses as a familiar, tattooed hand crosses into his vision, grabbing a glass out from
right in front of him instead of following the appropriate social etiquette and maintaining a
respectable distance.
“Can I help you with something?” Louis asks coolly. He lifts his head to meet Harry’s aloof
but intent expression.

Bracing one hand on the table next to them, Harry raises the glass to his lips and takes a long
sip. He's dressed smartly in a black suit and a pear-green tie that makes his eyes stand out
obnoxiously, and Louis’ eyes catch on the way his jawline sharpens and his throat bobs as he
swallows.

Averting his eyes, Louis forces away any wayward thoughts that the image conjures up.

“There is something you can help me with, actually,” Harry finally says after setting the glass
back down. “I thought Liam gave us fairly clear instructions to go around and talk with the
potential donors together, but you’ve been a bit difficult to track down lately.”

His pointed stare feels like it’s boring a hole into him.

Louis averts his eyes. He had very obviously been avoiding Harry, both tonight and for the
last week. Their escapade in the dance studio had been a mistake, no matter how much he
wanted it in the moment. Louis had spent enough time over the last several days cursing
himself over and over again for voluntarily handing Harry more power over him. It had made
rehearsals a nightmare, and he couldn’t handle the stress of navigating interactions with
someone who had so much to hold over his head.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’ve been around this whole time,” Louis responds, refusing to
rise to the bait. “We can do our rounds together right now if it’s bothering you that much. Try
and find something nice to say about me if it won’t strain your poor brain too much. There’s
no point doing this if it looks like we can’t stand each other.”

One corner of Harry’s mouth curls up into a smirk as he slowly rakes his eyes over Louis’
body.

“I’ve got plenty of nice things to say about you after our little adventure in the dance studio
last week, but I don’t think I should be sharing them with all these people.”

Louis falters where he stands, an immediate flush making its way up to his cheeks. He
schools his expression while doing his best to ignore Harry, but it’s painfully unsuccessful if
the way his smirk deepens is anything to go by.

“I promised someone that I’d get them a drink,” Harry adds when Louis remains silent. “It
shouldn’t take too long. I’ll find you when I’m done, and then we can spend some quality
time sucking up to all these people together.”

With one final appraisal, eyes lingering on Louis’ lips and his waist, Harry grabs a
champagne glass from the tray and heads off into the crowd.

Louis grips the edges of the table and takes a deep breath. He does his best to calm down
before he has to put his mask back on for the guests. Flicking his eyes around the room, he
searches for some nondescript corner where he can hide away for a moment’s peace. But his
hopes are dashed when he sees a familiar figure pacing towards him, gray eyebrows furrowed
and a weathered face set in a stony expression.

“Come with me,” his father says gruffly as he reaches Louis at the drinks table. Gripping his
elbow a bit too tightly, he pulls Louis towards one of the less occupied areas of the room that
he was looking at longingly just a minute ago.

Once they’re away from the prying ears of the crowd, his father deposits him roughly in a
corner.

“Are you trying to embarrass me tonight? Because I can’t think of any other reason that
you’d practically whore yourself out in that ridiculously tight suit and lounge around by the
drinks table while your friends are out properly networking.”

There’s a phantom vise squeezing Louis’ chest as he instinctively starts playing with the cuff
of his jacket.

“I just thought I’d take a quick break,” he says quietly. “Everyone else has been taking a bit
of time to step away, and I was going to head back out there in just a minute.”

Richard Tomlinson sighs wearily. He rubs a hand over his face, fixing Louis with that thinly
veiled look of disapproval that has grown excruciatingly familiar to him over the years.
“You’re not ‘everyone else,’ Louis. People expect more out of you, and you don’t quite have
the charm that lets people forgive your lazy behavior. Or your completely inappropriate way
of dressing yourself, for that matter.”

Unable to meet his cold stare, Louis swallows down the growing lump in his throat and nods
once in acknowledgement.

Richard seems satisfied, opening his mouth to speak until he’s interrupted by someone behind
Louis’ line of sight.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” a voice cuts in. Louis squeezes his eyes shut upon hearing the familiar
baritone. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I came to borrow Louis. We’ve been
asked to greet the guests together, and we’re running a bit short on time.”

Opening his eyes, Louis slowly turns around to face Harry. He prays to an unknown source
that Harry will use any ounce of understanding and sympathy in his body to leave Louis
alone to be berated without an audience. But his demeanor is cold, a tic in his jaw that hints
at barely contained anger, and Louis knows that his prayer will go unanswered.

Richard pastes on a pleasant smile, something so practiced that it would take a trained eye to
see how forced the gesture really is.

“Harry, it’s good to see you. You’ll have to excuse us, but Louis and I have something
important we need to discuss. I’m sure you won’t end up needing him on your rounds,
anyway. This fundraiser is all a game of charm and likeability, and I’m not sure Louis will
have anything to add to someone like you.”
Louis falters, the lump in his throat growing as he stares at the ground. He fantasizes about it
opening and swallowing him whole as the uncomfortable prickle of humiliation creeps up the
back of his neck.

“Actually, I think you’ll have to excuse us, sir,” Harry says lowly. Louis' gaze snaps up at the
barely contained threat in his tone. Harry's brows are furrowed harshly, jaw clenching so hard
that it looks painful. “Even if we weren’t given explicit instructions from our play’s director
to do this together, I still would have needed Louis with me on my rounds. I’ve found that
charm doesn’t have much use if there’s no substance to back it up, and Louis knows this play
better than anyone. I think, to imply that Louis has no merit in this activity, is to imply that
you don't know him at all.”

The quiet that follows is deafening as the three men stare at each other. Harry meets his
father’s gaze challengingly as the other two men have been shocked into silence. Louis
doesn’t move a muscle even as his heart rate picks up, his mind still not quite processing
what Harry's saying.

Richard finally clears his throat, clearly not seeing an avenue to get his way without coming
across as a massive prick.

“Of course. My apologies for holding you two up.”

He doesn’t sound particularly sorry as he turns back to Louis, disdain written all over his
features.

“I’ll call later if I don’t see you before I leave town. Get back to work,” he adds, nodding
curtly at the two of them before stalking off.

“Louis,” Harry starts carefully once Richard’s footsteps recede. The change in his tone from
when he was addressing Richard is like night and day, and it’s too much for Louis to handle.

"Thanks for dealing with that," Louis says evenly, belying his internal turmoil. "But we
should probably head over and start talking to the donors."

Harry stares at him for a moment, before nodding cautiously. "Okay. If that's what you want."

Louis gives him an empty grin, reaching an arm out for Harry to take. "Not much else we can
do right now, is there? Lead the way, Styles."

Louis flinches as he steps out the door of the event space, met with the bitter chill of the night
air. He's running a bit late, as his and Harry's greetings had taken much longer than expected.
Louis was expecting to have to call out of his shift entirely, but somehow, once again, Harry
had seemed to sense exactly what was going on and had made a broad excuse that finally
gave Louis a chance to leave.

He has no idea what to think of it.

The cold air starts seeping through his shoes and turning his toes numb. Louis checks the
time, sighing as he bites the bullet and decides to call a car to take him to his apartment. The
cost of the ride would mean nothing if it allowed him to keep his job by showing up on time.

He robotically swaps out his formal suit for a tracksuit when he gets home, picking up
everything he needs before finally getting on the subway for the long journey to the club.

As he steps into the building, he drops one facade in favor of another, seamlessly switching
from the people-pleaser shaking hands at a fundraising gala to the hip swiveling vixen that
needs to make enough tips to cover his monthly rent.

Taking a deep breath, Louis strips out of his baggy clothing to reveal the shiny, figure
hugging two piece that is his assigned uniform for tonight. Goosebumps prickle over his skin
as so much of it is exposed to the cold air of the club’s locker rooms, but he ignores the
discomfort. He’ll warm up soon enough once he gets up on the platform inside the cage.
Steeling himself, Louis pastes on a flirty smile as he makes his way out into the crowd.

Eyes trail over his body unabashedly, hungry stares centering on his bare legs and the thin,
stretched out fabric that only covers his ass on principle as he walks up into the cage. He
poses slyly, sending cheeky waves out into the crowd until the music changes and he begins
his routine.

Louis dances alone, barred in by a golden cage as a group of men egg him on. They reach
their arms in through the open slots to try to grab whatever parts of him they can, feeling that
they have a right to it because they put down the money to see him. As he completes the
transition from running around to please a bunch of stuffy rich men to serving as eye candy to
please a bunch of sleazy rich men, he can’t help but wonder when it will be his turn to live
for himself.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

Louis stands on top of the stage, eyes shut as he centers himself. He pushes everything out of
his mind, doing his best to focus.

Taking a deep breath, he resumes the scene, concentrating on delivering his lines while
conveying a very specific sense of emotionality. In general, his controlled and rehearsed
acting style suits Joey’s character well, but for the more emotional scenes it’s harder for him
to nail down the right level of feeling to express.

He drops his posture, frustrated when he’s unable to get into character for the third straight
time. He must not have had enough coffee this morning, or the turmoil from last night’s
fundraiser must be weighing on him more than usual, because he’s never been quite so out of
focus.
The echo of footsteps sound as someone enters the auditorium. Louis sighs wearily, figuring
he can go one day without the additional solo practice.

“Hey.”

Louis turns to watch Harry walk up onto the stage to join him. His long hair is still damp like
he just finished showering, and he’s comfortably dressed in a black henley and a pair of
skinny jeans.

“Hi,” Louis responds.

It’s awkward between them for a moment as they look at each other hesitantly.

“Um, do you know which scenes you want to run through today?” Louis finally asks,
breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Harry’s looking at him intently, with an unreadable expression. There’s a flicker of something
across his face, but it’s gone too quickly for Louis to read into it.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” Harry says tentatively.

Louis can feel his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “What?”

“I know I’ve been having issues with consistency, and you’re pretty good at completing a
scene the same way every time. I was kind of hoping you could walk me through it?”

His voice turns up at the end in a question, leaving Louis reeling. He’s almost certain that
Harry’s playing another joke on him, but the way Harry chews on his lip, looking nervous but
hopeful, gives him pause.

“Why?” Louis asks cautiously.

Harry huffs out a breath. “Maybe because I know it’s a problem and I want to get better
before we perform in front of an audience? Just because you think that I don’t give a shit
about this play doesn’t mean that it’s actually true. And I know you might think that I’m an
airhead with no talent, but I have the ability to see where your strengths lie, so I’m asking for
your help,” he snaps.

Louis inhales sharply, guilt overtaking him immediately.

“Harry, I–”

“Forget it.”

“No seriously–”

“I said drop it.”

Louis’ immediately shuts his mouth, and Harry looks the slightest bit contrite. “I’m sorry. I
don’t know what I hoped to accomplish by saying that.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Do
you want to help me or not?”

“Yeah, I can. Of course I can,” Louis says softly.

“Good, alright. I’m all yours, then."

Louis can’t help but smile at the implication of the words, and Harry catches himself.

“While it’s good to know that you’d be down for another go, that’s not what I meant,” Harry
says cheekily, the earlier irritation already melting off of his expression.

Louis’ eyes widen, unsure if Harry’s joking as he feels his cheeks heat.

“Shut up, you dick. Just come here so we can both finish then go home.”

Harry’s grin widens. Louis flushes further.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Get to your mark for the start of the coffee shop scene. Now.”

“So bossy,” Harry jokes.

Louis opens his mouth to retort, but Harry raises his hands defensively.

“I’m moving, don’t worry,” he says, maintaining eye contact as he walks backwards to reach
his mark. “You can be the one in charge as long as we’re not naked.”

Louis can’t help but let out a shocked giggle, slapping a hand over his mouth immediately
afterwards. It does nothing to prevent him from falling into a fit of laughter, feeling hysterical
as so much of the tension built up inside of him starts to melt away.

There are tears in his eyes once he finally recovers. He wipes them away as Harry regards
him with amusement, and a hint of concern.

“Not that I’m not enjoying the unexpected boost to my ego, but I really don’t think it was that
funny.”

Louis collects himself. “You’re right, it wasn’t,” he says, smiling to himself at Harry’s
affronted expression. “Now if I’m not mistaken, both of us still have all our clothes on, so get
to your mark.”

Harry bites back a smile as he complies, getting into position before looking at Louis
expectantly.

“Okay, so obviously as part of your stage cues, you have a position for where you start and a
different one for where you end the scene,” Louis starts, gesturing as he speaks. “But if you
only use those two checkpoints to make sure you’re always where you need to be onstage,
it’s never going to work. You need to create checkpoints in your head throughout the scene
and make sure you’re hitting them as you go through it so you can make adjustments. It
means you don’t have to scramble to make big corrections at the very end.”
Harry frowns. “I guess that makes sense, but how am I supposed to keep track of fifty
different checkpoints?”

“That’s where practice comes in. It’s a bit hard trying to remember them all when you start
out, but if you choose your checkpoints early on, you start to notice them a lot more naturally
the more you practice the scene. And it’s good to pick things that are easy to remember, like
this.”

Louis beckons Harry over with his hand, pointing at a scuff mark on the stage. “See how this
mark kind of looks like South America? I try to use this spot as a checkpoint whenever I can
because it’s recognizable, and really easy to assign to a certain line of dialogue.”

Harry’s eyes light up as he looks down at another part of the stage floor. “This one looks like
an ice cream cone! I’m totally going to use that one.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever. Let’s run through the scene a few times and see if that
helps.”

The rest of their rehearsal runs more smoothly than it ever has before. It’s almost miraculous
how much better they work together through the haze of their tentative truce. Harry gets
closer and closer to finishing on his mark every time, and Louis is able to loosen up a bit
more after he’s able to trust Harry’s ability to do his job a bit better. By the time the afternoon
fades into early evening, Harry has finished the scene on his mark for their last three run-
throughs, and they’ve made more progress in their onstage dynamic in one afternoon than
they did in the previous month.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Louis asks, slightly out of breath as they pack up their things.

Harry looks back at him for a beat, mouth parting like he wants to say something before
shaking his head.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

The next day brings dreary skies, air heavy with the promise of rain, and another easy
rehearsal with no major issues arising between him and Harry. Louis would go as far as to
say that they actually got along well, and the realization leaves him with a strange high as
they finish for the day.

“Good practice today,” Louis says carefully as they pack up their things.

“Yeah, but it was a bit tiring to be honest,” Harry replies, before hesitating. “I was actually
just going to head to the cafe down the street for an afternoon pick me up,” says slowly,
looking at Louis expectantly.

Clearing his throat, Louis sends out a desperate prayer that he’s reading the situation
correctly. “Yeah me too. I’m a bit tired, I mean. Might end up heading the same way, if
you’re up for some company?”
“That sounds great,” Harry says, relief flickering across his expression. “Do you mind
walking? It’s only a few blocks from here and it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain for a
while.”

The walk to the cafe verges on being excruciatingly uncomfortable. There are long periods of
silence broken up only by stilted conversation. Both of them come up with a multitude of
questions to ask the other, but neither of them seem to be able to make any of the responses
extend into a proper conversation.

Louis hopes it will get easier once they order their drinks and take a seat at one of the tables
near the window. But the awkwardness between them is made more prevalent by the stark
contrast with the low buzz of noise and chatter surrounding them.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” Harry finally says.

“Yeah, okay, sounds good. I’ll be here.”

Louis immediately winces. What the fuck? He had imagined that it would’ve been easier to
find conversational topics with someone after literally having their cock up his ass, but it
seems that life continues to throw him for a loop.

Harry gets up, nodding awkwardly as he leaves the table. Louis breathes a sigh of relief at the
temporary reprieve. It doesn’t last long, however, because not ten seconds after Harry has left
his seat, a stranger walks up to their table and sets his to-go cup on the surface.

“Hey,” the man says, with a grin that shows off a row of too-white teeth. “I’ve been waiting a
while for a chance to talk to you, my name’s Ryan.”

Louis blinks at him. “Okay,” he says, furrowing his brows, “That’s nice, but I’m actually here
with a friend and we’re a bit busy–”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen?” the man,
Ryan, interrupts as he trails his eyes over Louis unabashedly. “It should be a crime for
someone like you to be sitting over here all by yourself.”

Louis flinches as the man leans in closely. He has a head of dirty blonde hair that has been
gelled into oblivion, while a clean shave emphasizes his square jaw. Louis is temporarily
distracted as he ungenerously muses that his overall look is reminiscent of the lego characters
he used to play with as a child.

Caught off guard and a bit on edge from the man’s rudeness, Louis is torn between not
wanting to cause trouble and throwing caution to the wind to pour his hot coffee all over the
man’s horrendous fringed coat.

He doesn’t end up having to make the decision. Louis tenses as a strong hand suddenly fits
itself onto his shoulder, only relaxing when he recognizes the small tattoo inked into the skin.
He glances up, catching the way Harry brazenly stares down the stranger as he strokes over
the fabric on Louis’ shoulder.
“Everything alright, darling?” Harry asks without breaking eye contact. He slowly brushes
his fingers along Louis’ back before leaving his side to take his seat again.

“Yeah,” Louis replies, clearing his throat. “I was just telling, um, Ryan here that we were
busy.”

“Ryan, is it?” Harry turns to the man with feigned interest, sticking a hand out. “Sam
LaRocca. I see you’ve met my boyfriend, Joey.”

Louis coughs into his fist to cover up the unexpected laugh that threatens to bubble out, while
Harry’s lips twitch tellingly.

“Boyfriend?” Ryan raises an eyebrow at Louis. “He didn’t say anything about a boyfriend.”

“But it’s true,” Harry presses, reaching across the table to engulf one of Louis’ hands in his
warm palms. “I met my lovely Joey on a warm summer night when we were both taking a
mind-clearing stroll on the Brooklyn Bridge,” he says dreamily, practically quoting the
opening scene of their play word for word. “I had the strangest feeling that I was meant to be
in that exact location at that exact time, and the universe had the boldest way of confirming
my feelings when Joey walked into the streetlight, looking like an angel.”

Ryan looks at Harry with a bewildered expression, brows furrowing after being subjected to
the bizarre monologue no one asked for.

“Right,” he says, stepping back apprehensively. Louis ducks his head to hide his grin. “I
should probably get going.”

Shooting Harry a final look of concern, he grabs his coffee off of their table, quickly heading
out of the cafe without looking back.

As soon as the door swings shut behind him, Louis and Harry turn towards each other,
bursting into a fit of uncontrolled laughter.

“What the fuck was that?” Louis chokes out, while Harry cackles in his seat. “Jesus, Harry, I
almost feel bad for him.”

“He had it coming and you enjoyed seeing that. Don’t lie.”

Louis giggles into his hand. “Okay, maybe I did.”

“Seriously, what a fucking prick,” Harry says once they’ve recovered, brows furrowing with
disgust. “He looks exactly like the kind of dickhead who would come up to a pretty boy in a
coffee shop and bother him unprovoked.”

Louis flushes at the compliment, but only responds to the safer part of Harry’s statement.

“He really does, doesn’t he? Should have known he was a problem the second I saw the
fringe on that god-awful coat,” Louis agrees.
“Yeah, or how much gel he put into his hair,” Harry adds, pausing to take a sip of his drink.
“There’s no way that wasn’t a fire hazard.”

“Honestly, you can tell exactly how someone’s going to act in a public space just by watching
them for a few minutes. People are so predictable these days.”

“Exactly. Just like I can tell that the broody hipster over there by the cashier wants to come
up and try to impress you by quoting an obscure line from an Oscar Wilde novel. He’d
pretend to be the deep, emotional type, even though he didn’t stop staring at your ass the
whole time we were ordering.”

“He did not.”

The two of them spend the rest of the time pointing out the poor unsuspecting patrons of the
cafe, bickering over which of the two of them they would be more likely to hit on, and
brainstorming which approach they would take if they did. Louis suggests that the girl
pensively looking out the window would proposition Harry with a phone number on a napkin
with a lipstick kiss and a flirty smile, while Harry is adamant that the Wall-street type one
table over would make every effort to make a sugar baby out of Louis. He goes as far as to
put on the persona, lowering his voice and saying "I'll make all your dreams come true for an
hour of your time, sugar," leaving Louis a giggling mess on the other side of the table.

It’s more fun than it should be. It takes Louis getting a text from Zayn asking him when he’ll
be home that he realizes that he and Harry have been in the coffee shop for over two hours.

“I should probably head out,” he says, feeling something akin to disappointment wash over
him. “My roommate is expecting me back for dinner.”

Harry doesn’t respond, frowning down at his phone before tipping his head back
exasperatedly.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, and Louis raises his eyebrows.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just–” Harry starts, shaking his head even as the annoyance doesn’t leave his
expression. “Niall has a girl over and he asked me not to come home for a bit. Normally it’s
not a big deal, but I’m really fucking tired and I don’t want to walk all over the city for three
hours while I wait for them to get done.”

Louis chews on his lip for a bit, not quite believing the words that he knows are about to
come out of his mouth.

“You could stay at mine for a bit, if you want?”

Harry’s eyes snap to his immediately. “Really? I mean, that would be great, but I don’t want
to impose. Like, if you were already busy or something, and if it’s going to be annoying if
I’m there–”
“Harry,” Louis cuts off his rambling. “I wouldn’t have asked if it was going to be an issue. As
long as you’re okay with ordering a pizza or something, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure
that neither Zayn or I have anything resembling a meal in our fridge.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Pizza delivery for dinner? I didn’t think you were the type, to be
honest.”

“It’s a normal meal. What do you think I eat every night, a fucking seafood platter?”

Harry grins at him as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Actually, that’s exactly the kind
of person I thought you were. Put your address in, I’ll call a car.”

Louis wrinkles his nose as he takes the phone and puts in his information. “What the fuck?
Say something like that to me one more time, and you’re uninvited. Be nice to me unless you
want to spend your night listening to the sounds of Niall getting it on through the walls.”

“That's nasty.” It’s Harry’s turn to look disgusted. “I think I’d rather be nice to you for the
rest of my life than put myself through that.”

Louis rolls his eyes as their car pulls up, but he reaches out to catch Harry’s wrist, holding
him back for a moment before they get in. “We can talk more when we get to mine?”

Harry nods before giving him a small smile, opening the back door of the car to allow Louis
to enter first. “Yeah. I think that sounds great.”

“Honey, I’m home!” Louis calls out dramatically as soon as he opens the door to the
apartment. He grins when he hears the responding “don’t give a shit, stop bothering me”
coming from Zayn’s bedroom.

“He says that now, but he’ll be out of his room in three seconds once the pizza gets here,”
Louis explains.

“Actually, about that. I’m not too keen on pizza so I was wondering if I could just cook
something for everyone instead? I’d be using stuff from your fridge, obviously, so only if it’s
okay with you.”

Louis stares at Harry as he looks back at him expectantly. “You’re asking me if, instead of
spending forty dollars on mid-tier pizza tonight, I’m okay with you cooking us a homemade
meal for free?” he asks incredulously.

Harry’s dimple pokes out of a pleased smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, if you insist,” Louis says sarcastically. “Fair warning, it might take some extreme skill
to make a full meal out of whatever ingredients we have at home.”

Harry has already stuck his head in their fridge and opened up the doors to their pantry,
rifling through the paltry selection of fresh goods.
“Jesus, this is pathetic.” His voice is muffled from where he’s buried in their fridge, pulling
out a bunch of wrinkly tomatoes and placing them next to a box of pasta and a lone onion
that he’s put on the counter. He finally stands upright and closes the fridge door, making a
pained expression at the loose cloves of garlic in his hand.

“Onions and garlic don’t go in the fridge, it actually shortens their shelf life,” Harry informs
him as he shakes the cloves of garlic in front of Louis’ face dramatically. “Seriously, do
either of you guys know anything about cooking?”

“Define ‘cooking.’”

Harry snorts in response as he pulls out a cutting board. He makes quick work of chopping
the onions and garlic, adding them to a hot pan with some spices that Louis didn’t even know
they had.

A distant sound of a door opening is heard before Zayn walks over in an old t-shirt with holes
in the armpit and a pair of basketball shorts that have seen better days, rubbing his eyes as if
he’s just woken up.

“Something smells good,” he remarks as he pads over to them in the kitchen, stopping short
when he sees Harry standing at the stove.

“I guess this makes sense,” Zayn says after a beat, nodding towards Harry. “Smells incredible
man, for a second I thought I woke up in an alternate reality where Louis can make an edible
meal.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Please meet Zayn, he’s got a horrible disease where he’s a really great
guy to be around as long as your name isn’t Louis Tomlinson.”

“What are the chances, I think I have the same thing,” Harry says, grinning at Louis. “I’m
Harry.”

“Harry?” Zayn turns to Louis as his eyebrows climb into his hairline. “Drama club Harry?
Drama club Harry is currently in our apartment cooking us dinner?”

Louis shuffles his feet back and forth, cheeks burning as he fidgets under Zayn’s gaze. Zayn
has been on the receiving end of Louis’ complaints against Harry for years, and he had been
there when Louis had returned home crying on the day that Harry found out his secret.
There’s no way he’s getting away after this without an intense round of interrogation.

Harry winces, before returning to concentrate on their food. “I take it my reputation precedes
me?”

Zayn shrugs. “Maybe. Right now, I don’t really give a shit what Lou had to say about you if
that food’s going to taste as good as it looks. Thanks, by the way. I don’t think I’ve had a
home-cooked meal in ages.”

“It’s really not that complicated,” Harry waves him off. “Do you guys not have any recipes
that you’ve wanted to try?”
Louis maintains a straight face as Zayn starts cackling.

“You’re asking the wrong people. I hate cooking and Louis gave up on learning when he tried
and failed to cut a tomato.”

Louis whirls on Zayn and points at him accusingly. “Cutting tomatoes is a lot harder than it
looks, you dick. You would know if you tried it at some point.”

“What part of cutting a tomato was difficult for you, Louis?” Harry asks innocuously, lips
twisting with amusement. Louis glares at him.

“First of all, the knife didn’t work. Tomatoes should not be that hard to cut and the useless
fucking thing couldn’t do it! I fail to see how that was my fault.”

Harry pauses for a second, letting a smile break through before schooling his expression. “Do
you happen to remember if you used a straight edge knife or a serrated one?”

Louis blinks. He looks to Zayn who stares back at him just as blankly, before turning back to
Harry. He scrambles for a way to ask Harry what the fuck he’s talking about without
sounding stupid, but curiosity gets the better of him.

“What the fuck are you talking about? There are different kinds of knives?”

Harry makes an aborted noise in a poor attempt at holding in a laugh, but manages to collect
himself quickly.

“Yeah, there’s a regular straight edge knife which you would use for things you cut clean
through, and there’s a serrated knife which is better for cutting softer things you slice, like
bread. Or tomatoes.”

“Oh,” Louis mumbles, feeling like a complete idiot as he stands in his kitchen while Harry
cooks him dinner and explains to him how to use his own appliances.

“Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us,” Harry says, biting the inside of his cheek.

“It doesn’t actually,” Zayn cuts in. “Louis just has some very special moments.”

“Why don’t you shut up and concentrate on not being a massive dickhead for once and let
Harry focus on not burning our dinner?”

“He wasn’t distracting me,” Harry supplies unhelpfully. “And it should be done in fifteen
minutes.”

“See? Drama club Harry and I are getting along just fine, maybe you’re the one who needs to
lighten up a bit.”

Zayn and Louis continue bickering, lost in their own world until Harry’s calling them for
dinner, having already set the table with a plate and a filled glass of water for everyone.
The gesture is so reminiscent of a group of friends who have known each other for ages that
Louis is once again struck with the abnormality of the situation. Any lingering tension is
obliterated as soon as he and Zayn tuck into Harry’s meal.

“This is amazing,” Louis mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“It really is, I have no idea how you put this together,” Zayn adds.

Harry bites down a bashful smile and shrugs as his cheeks color slightly. “It’s not a big deal.
Thought I’d do something nice since you’re letting me stay here. Although, I am genuinely
concerned about the state of your guys’ pantry. There’s some really great produce at the
grocery store right down the block from your place. It’s really not that hard to go over and
stock up every once in a while.”

“Like everyone just has the money to spend on that organic green shit,” Louis scoffs.

The room goes silent, and Louis looks up from his meal to see Harry giving him a strange
look.

“Your parents are investment bankers and you live in a posh apartment in the middle of
Manhattan, and you think that buying organic vegetables is too expensive?”

Louis freezes, caught out. His heart picks up speed as he mentally curses himself for getting
too comfortable with the situation, forgetting who Harry is entirely. His brain goes blank as
he scrambles for a way to explain away his comment before Zayn comes to his rescue.

“Just ignore him, Louis will look for any excuse to not eat his vegetables. It’s like dealing
with a child.”

Harry seems satisfied with that, and banters back and forth with Zayn for a bit as the earlier
line of conversation is thankfully forgotten.

Zayn excuses himself quickly after their plates are cleared. He claims that he has some work
to get done, but gives Louis a pointed glance before retreating to his room.

Niall still hasn’t given Harry the all-clear, so they decide to put on a random action movie
while they wait. Louis finds himself fidgeting, nervous to bring up anything that would
devolve into fighting after they’ve had such a good day.

“Hey, Harry,” he starts tentatively. “I, um, wanted to talk about what you said earlier today.”

Harry only acknowledges him with a hum. The light from the television screen illuminates
his face as he keeps his eyes fixed on the movie. He doesn’t seem to have any interest in
making this conversation easy, which Louis supposes he deserves.

“You were right. There's a lot of shit I've said to you over the years that was unfair, and a lot
of it wasn't even true.”

Harry lets out a self-deprecating half-smile as he turns in his seat to face him. “Well, it’s a
little bit true, isn’t it? Or at least it was. You didn’t just make up that impression of me out of
thin air, did you?”

“No,” Louis says carefully. “I didn’t. But I also never gave you the chance to change my
mind."

The next words are extremely difficult for Louis to admit. "I’m not trying to make any
excuses, but I hope you know that I was only trying to get to you because I was bitter. Doing
well at drama is important to me in a way you might not understand, and I put in a lot to get
to where I am. So it was really hard to see you come in and get everything that I wanted,
without any of the sacrifice.”

Harry smiles ruefully. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that."

Louis' heart sinks. “I’m really sorry, Harry,” he says quietly.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Louis almost bursts out laughing.

“Jesus Christ, Harry. I trying to explain to you why I acted like a dickhead for the last four
years, why are you apologizing?”

Harry shrugs.

“Fair's fair, right? You might have been a dick, but I know that I initially got picked for roles
for a lot of superficial reasons. That wasn't fair, either. I one hundred percent deserved all the
shit you gave me back then, Louis. So I know that I’m not completely blameless, just like
you’re not completely in the wrong.”

Harry pauses. “Basically, I’m saying that I accept your apology and I forgive you.”

A bitter laugh slips out of Louis’ mouth against his will, but he lets it out because if he
doesn’t, he might start crying. Something illicit starts stirring in his chest, a feeling that he’s
had years of practice squashing under his boot. One conversation with someone who appears
to see him as he is and forgive his past transgressions isn’t enough to allow it to rear its ugly
head, and it takes everything Louis has to send it back to the depths of his consciousness.
Hope has ruined more good people than almost anything else, and Louis is far too jaded to
become its latest victim.

“You’re not letting me get away with it that easily, are you?”

One corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up. “No, maybe not. But we have to start somewhere.”

“Good. That's good,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “Might be nice to have a clean slate.”

“Right,” Harry says sheepishly, looking down and pulling at one of the loose threads in his
jeans. “I actually had a question, in the interest of putting everything on the table."

Louis raises his eyebrows and nods his head as permission for Harry to continue.
"So you can obviously tell me to fuck off for asking, but I was kind of wondering about your
job at that club? Why do you even work there? I haven't been able to work it out in my head.
I mean, obviously I don't know for sure but it didn't really look like you enjoyed it, so I was a
bit curious,” he finishes lamely.

Louis' heart rate picks up, but he keeps his face impassive. "Feeling a bit bold today, are we?"
He jokes, playing off his internal turmoil.

Somehow, in between their coffeeshop antics and Harry making homemade pasta, Louis had
completely forgotten about the elephant in the room, the source of his biggest anxiety for the
past couple of weeks.

“It’s complicated,” is all Louis offers on the subject when he sees Harry still looking at him
expectantly. “Look, I don’t know what you plan to do, but please, please don’t tell anyone. I
know I'm not exactly your favorite person, but you can't do that to me. I’m not ashamed of
what I do, but it could easily ruin my life if it gets out because no one knows except for Zayn
and I could be turned down from getting a job and my parents would kill me and I really
hope that you don’t–”

Leaning forward, Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ wrist and squeezes. The contact
grounds him, allowing him to break off from his slightly manic rant.

“I will never do that to you, Louis, I promise. I wanted to mess with you when I first found
out because you were pissing me off, but there’s never going to be a time where I play with
your life and your future like that. It’s none of my business what you do in your free time,
and it sure as hell isn’t anybody else’s, either.”

Louis breathes out a sigh of relief, tension in his body that he didn’t even know existed
starting to release. He ducks his head in embarrassment as relieved tears start to prick at the
backs of his eyes.

“I believe you,” Louis mumbles, discreetly pressing his sleeves to his eyes to wipe away the
tears before they fall. Harry searches his face for a moment before nodding. He releases his
grip on Louis’ wrist, sitting back on the couch wordlessly.

“There’s something you should probably–” Harry starts, before immediately cutting himself
off.

“What?”

Harry hesitates, then shakes his head. “Never mind, it’s not important.”

Louis furrows his brows, wanting to ask him what he was going to say in the interest of
getting everything out on the table, but they’re both jolted out of their bubble when Harry’s
phone suddenly buzzes in his pocket.

He pulls it out, huffing out a sigh. “It’s Niall. Apparently the coast is clear.” Sitting up
slightly, he stretches his arms out to the side before standing up. “I should probably be getting
home.”
“Yeah,” Louis says, getting up along with him to walk him to the front door. “Do you want to
take the leftover pasta with you?” He gestures towards the half-empty pot that remains on the
table.

“No, I’m good. God only knows when you and Zayn will have your next real meal.”

Louis snorts quietly and looks down, standing in the entryway quietly as Harry pulls on his
shoes and his coat before turning around to face him.

“Thanks again for letting me stay, Lou. I really appreciate it.”

Louis doesn’t know if Harry noticed the nickname slip out, but he still allows himself to feel
warm all over from its usage. A car finally pulls up to his building, and Harry heads out with
a goofy salute.

Louis closes the front door slowly, leaning back against it after Harry leaves. He stands in the
entryway for far too long as he bites back a smile.

“So,” Zayn’s voice startles him from the kitchen where he’s materialized out of nowhere, a
glass of water in his hand. “I find it really interesting that with all the whining you did about
drama club Harry, you never mentioned that he looked like that.”

He takes a sip from the glass, eyes fixed on Louis intently. “Any chance you want to tell me
what’s going on?”

Louis sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“We fucked in the dance studio, had a nice little chat, and now I think we’re trying to be
friends. Or at least getting along enough so that we don't kill each other at rehearsals. If you
ask me any more questions I'm going to commit a homicide, so tread carefully.”

Louis smiles to himself as Zayn spits water out all over his t-shirt, quickly making his escape
to his bedroom while Zayn is left sputtering in the kitchen.

It’s a major oversimplification of recent events, but the importance of it isn’t lost on him. It
feels like a fresh start, a second chance, and something that Louis maybe never knew he
needed.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·
 Chapter 3

A soft breeze brings the earthy smell of damp grass as Harry cuts through the winding
pathways of Central Park. The surrounding greenery and sounds of happy chatter float
through the air, putting a spring in his step as he walks across the city. Late March has
brought a rare day of warmth as the sun breaks through the clouds, making it the perfect
occasion to enjoy places around the city that he misses out on from his habit of taking cars at
the slightest hint of bad weather.

Temporarily incapacitated from the plastic bags that he’s carrying in each hand, Harry can't
check the time or text Louis to let him know that he’s here as he stands outside his apartment
building. Ringing the buzzer with his elbow, Harry nods awkwardly at everyone passing by
on the street until the door unlocks to let him in.

He ends up having to kick at Louis’ door in lieu of knocking. He’s still balancing on one leg
when the door swings open to reveal a very unimpressed looking Louis, dressed in a too-
large dark green sweater and a soft pair of gray sweatpants.

“You’re late,” Louis says as he steps back, allowing Harry in despite the reprimand.

“I walked here. I got you three bags of the truffle oil popcorn from the gourmet shop that you
pretend not to like, so I figured I was in the clear.”

Louis’ gaze drops to eye the bags in Harry’s hands with interest.

“What makes you think I’m pretending not to like it?” Louis demands, playing dumb even as
his fingers start fidgeting.

“You know way too much about the flavor options at the shop for someone who claims to
hate ‘pretentious’ snacks, Louis. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots.”

Louis’ lips twitch upwards involuntarily. “I didn’t realize that I’m being psychoanalyzed
when I’m talking about flavor combinations. I guess I really need to watch what I say around
you, you massive creep.”

“It’s just popcorn, don’t overthink it. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Louis rolls his eyes, moving forward suddenly to swipe the bags from his hands.

“Fine, I forgive you for being late,” he says, eyes crinkling as he reads over the label on the
bag. “But you’re on thin ice for next time.”

Louis looks at him pointedly as he moves into the kitchen, climbing up onto the counter to
get a serving bowl off the top shelf of one of their cabinets.

Harry bites back a grin, admiring the rarity and beauty of Louis as he has him now. The
tentative friendship they've formed over the past few weeks is something that Harry holds
more dear than he should. The cutting words from the sharp tongue that Harry had always
dreaded have softened into heated banter, and he was starting to see that the same dedication
that he had resented in the auditorium made Louis a steadfast and loyal friend, traits rare
enough that Harry found himself wondering how it had all eluded him before.

Whether Louis' doing it for the sake of the play or because he genuinely enjoys Harry's
company, he's incredibly grateful for what he has.

Louis pads back out of the kitchen, struggling to hold two full serving bowls as he makes his
way over to Harry. He slips slightly with his socked feet on the hardwood floor, nearly
sending the popcorn flying out of the bowl. Harry has to bite back a grin while Louis glares
at him.

“If you’re not going to help me carry these, the least you can do is get the TV set up. And
you better pick a good movie. If I have to watch one of your weird slapstick comedies right
now, I’m never letting you back in my apartment again.”

Tears start forming in the corner of Harry’s eyes, gathering in his waterline as they threaten to
spill over. He finally gives up hope of keeping them contained as he lets them fall freely,
concentrating on reining in any other signs of a breakdown. He’s on the verge of letting an
audible noise break through his lips when he hears a soft sniffle coming from next to him. He
turns to see Louis staring straight at the screen with a matching set of watery eyes and a
reddened nose.

I’ll never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.

“You liar!” Louis yells, grabbing a handful of popcorn out of the bowl on his lap and
throwing it at the screen.

Pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, Louis angrily wipes away at his tears even
as new ones replace them almost immediately.

Harry lets a wet giggle escape him, snapping his mouth shut immediately when Louis shifts
his glare from the screen to focus it on Harry.

“Shut up,” Louis mutters, burrowing further into the blanket draped over his lap. He cradles
the bowl of popcorn against his chest. “I know you were thinking the same thing.”

The front door opens as the two of them continue to let the tears fall, watching on in silence.
Zayn enters their field of vision a moment later, an unimpressed expression on his face as his
eyes sweep over their tearstained faces, and the popcorn that is scattered all over the floor.

His mouth parts as he goes to say something, but closes it immediately afterward.

“You know what, I don’t even want to ask. I brought back food, you weirdos, so there’s
something in the fridge if you want it when you’re done with whatever the fuck this is.”

"Thank you, Zayn," Louis calls out as Zayn makes a hasty exit.
The movie scene shifts back into the present day, and it’s only a couple more minutes until
the credits start rolling.

Harry stands up from the couch and stretches his arms out, twisting a couple of times until he
feels the satisfying pop of his spine. Pulling out his phone to check the time, he grimaces
when he sees that it’s already past eleven.

Harry groans. “Fuck, I’m tired. Maybe we should have done this the other way around and
studied before we watched the movie.”

“Oh, you think?” Louis says sarcastically. “That was the plan until you decided that watching
Jack fall off the raft just couldn’t wait until later."

He plonks down in one of the dining chairs and spreads his books out over the table. "Now
go get your work and sit quietly at the table. I have three assignments due in less than a week,
and I can’t have any distractions.”

Harry truly showed up here with the intention of getting his work done. But he’s never
boasted a particularly impressive attention span, and watching Louis work seems like it
would be infinitely more interesting than completing his own assignments. He looks up from
his books and lets his eyes slowly trail over Louis’ face, enraptured as the other boy remains
concentrated on his task.

The warm lighting above the dining table illuminates Louis’ tan skin, making his eyelashes
cast long shadows over his cheeks. His small lips purse and twitch as he writes, brows
furrowing when he comes across something confusing. There’s something so special about
seeing him like this, nothing holding him back from being himself as every thought is
plastered across his expression for the world to see.

It makes something dangerous stir in Harry’s chest, thinking about what Louis must have
gone through for the sweet openness of his natural disposition to have been wiped away so
thoroughly, and for so long. It’s times like these where Harry itches to really know Louis, to
delve into the thoughts behind every expression that passes over his face.

Despite a layer of Louis’ mask being dropped, Harry can still tell that he’s holding something
back from him. There’s a marked cautiousness on Louis’ end that prevents the two of them
from having a particularly close friendship, and Harry yearns to bridge that final rift that’s
keeping Louis at arm’s length.

There is, of course, another obstacle in the way of him and Louis reaching some kind of
platonic utopia. And that is the decidedly not platonic thoughts towards Louis invading
Harry’s mind at the most inopportune moments.

It’s not like he never thinks back to that day in the dance studio, because he does. All the
time. Neither of them have brought it up since, everything still too new and fragile to open
that particular can of worms, but that certainly doesn’t mean that Harry’s thoughts have shied
away from the memories. Flashbacks of how their bodies had fit together, and the way Louis
had let out the sweetest noises flit through his mind constantly, a soundtrack that plays in his
head night after night until it drives him crazy.
But there was something else, beyond just the pleasure of the moment that had Harry so
unable to move on. It came down to the way Louis had given up control and decided to trust
him, to be vulnerable and lay himself bare. It was such a fleeting promise of who Louis was,
a side of him that Harry had never experienced before and hasn’t seen since. He's been aching
for a way to bring that part of him back.

Harry’s internal musings stop entertaining him after a while, and he sighs inwardly as Louis
refuses to even glance up from his work.

He had initially thought that studying together with Louis would give him some much-
needed motivation to get his own work done, so he had agreed easily when Louis had
suggested it. But the descriptions of foreign exchange markets in his textbook aren’t exactly
the most thrilling topics, and he’s already desperate for a distraction.

Harry clicks his pen shut audibly, letting it hang loosely from his fingers. He taps it on the
surface of his textbook once, testing the waters, repeating the action continuously when it
goes unnoticed. After thirty seconds without so much as a glance from Louis, Harry shifts in
his seat before clearing his throat.

“Hey, Louis, do you think Liam will let us do a run through in our stage costumes at
rehearsals this week?”

Louis barely flicks his eyes up from his work, continuing to write as he responds.

“Probably not. The play’s in June, I don’t think he’d risk us messing with our costumes until
at least the end of April.”

“True, but you never know, right? He might try something different this time around.”

“Don’t think so,” Louis responds dismissively, still engrossed in the papers scattered in front
of him.

“Personally, I think it would be a great idea to try our costumes on earlier, so we have a bit
more time to get used to how they feel before performance day.”

Louis sighs and drops his pen, finally looking up from the table with exasperation. His eyes
are cold under the dining room light.

“Not that you would understand what it’s like, but doing well in my classes is really
important to me. Not everyone has the fucking privilege to sit on their ass and do whatever
they feel like and wait for opportunities to fall into their lap. If you’re not going to work on
your own shit, you can either sit quietly and stop distracting me, or leave. I’m not forcing you
to be here.”

Harry rolls his eyes, the prickle of defensiveness automatically coming in as the back of his
neck flushes hot with embarrassment. A part of him had been wondering when this version of
Louis would make an appearance again, and Harry finds that he has even less patience for
dealing with it than he did before.
"Not everyone loses their mind over taking a five minute break from studying, either. It's
college, it's not like we're sending rockets into space."

“What might help you,” Louis continues on, as if Harry hadn't said anything, “is if you
actually tried learning something for once. Unless you’re some kind of expert on foreign
markets, it’s hard to imagine that you couldn’t learn something useful if you tried studying
for more than ten fucking minutes at a time. Mommy and daddy's money can get you far, but
it's not a replacement for having a brain.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Harry finally snaps. “I fucking get it, you’re perfect and studious and I’m
just the lazy shit distracting you from your work. You can just tell me to fuck off next time,
and leave out all the unnecessary bullshit advice.”

Louis looks the slightest bit guilty as the words ring through the air. It passes quickly,
however, as Louis levels him with a stare so stony it’s almost scary.

“You get justifiably called out for the first time in your life, and your first move is to get all
defensive and pissy with me? Real nice.”

Harry scoffs. “You’d be defensive too if you finally gave someone the benefit of the doubt
and they threw it back in your face the first chance they got.”

His chair drags loudly on the ground as he stands up from the table, starting to pack his
things.

“Can we talk this through like adults, or are you just going to leave?”

“You’re the one who told me to leave in the first place, so I’ll do you a favor. I’m really not
in the mood to keep being lectured.”

“Maybe you should ask me what I meant instead of running wild with your assumptions. I
thought we were past that by now.”

“Why should I? If there's one thing positive I can say about you over the years, Louis, it's that
you've always been incredibly clear in your condescensions.”

“Harry. Ask me what I meant.”

“Fine.” Harry slams his books back on the table and curls his hands around the top of his
chair, leaning in to speak to Louis mockingly. “Aside from implying that I'm lazy, stupid, and
use my parents' money to make up for my shortcomings, what could you possibly have
meant?”

Louis, for his part, only winces slightly, flipping the cover of his book shut as he holds
Harry’s gaze.

“Maybe I got a bit carried away, when you say it like that," he says slowly. "But what I did a
shit job of telling you was that I think you have a tremendous amount of potential when you
actually care about something, and you’re wasting it away. I don’t think the people you keep
around you realize how much they’re holding you back by letting you get away with
everything.”

Harry was expecting almost anything but the words that just came out of Louis’ mouth.
Shock takes over anger almost seamlessly as he turns Louis’ words over in his mind, the
meaning hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“What?” Harry demands.

“Do you realize how rare it is for someone to just waltz into the theater department with no
training or experience, and excel at it like you did? Do you even understand why I was so
fucking frustrated with you for so long?”

Louis pauses to take a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest as the fight seems to
drain out of him. “You have a gift, Harry. You have this wonderful ability to understand
things at an intimate level almost by instinct, and I think it’s a shame for you and the world if
you let these opportunities pass you by just because you don’t think you need them.”

“Oh," Harry says dumbly. "I, um. That wasn't clear," he mumbles.

"I'm sorry," Louis says, eyes sad as he stares down at the table. "I know you're not lazy, just
like I know you're not just another trust fund kid who needs their parents' money to carry
them through life. There is some truth to it, but not in the way you think. I think in a lot of
ways, the idea just hasn't occurred to you to make more of yourself because no one ever
showed you that you could."

An embarrassing lump starts to form in Harry's throat, as he clenches his jaw to hold back a
visible reaction. Because the unfortunate truth of his life, charmed as it is, is that no one has
bothered to pay attention to him with so much care. He's always been the golden boy, an ideal
to live up to, but it's all based on a superficial perception, and not who he really is.

The criticisms that Louis had piled on him for so long had hurt because deep down, Harry
had known they were true. But he had never considered that Louis would find something to
appreciate about him in addition to his flaws. Louis, for better or for worse, has always seen
him.

“Thank you, Louis,” Harry manages to get out. "Really, thank you."

Louis snorts. "Don't thank me too much. I got a bit too harsh with you there, and I really
thought I'd dumped that habit after you fucked me in the dance studio then told my dad he
was a shit father at our fundraiser a week later."

Harry's eyes widen, a shocked laugh bubbling out of him. "Do you get some kind of personal
amusement from telling blatant lies? I never said that."

"But you might as well have," Louis grins. "It was fantastic."

"The dance studio or the fundraiser?" Harry raises an eyebrow.

"Both," Louis says nonchalantly, but the light flush on his cheeks gives him away.
"I know," Harry grins smugly, before deciding to take his chances. "And if you ever want a
repeat of either-"

His words are cut off when Louis’ phone starts buzzing, rattling gratingly from where it lies
on the table.

"Speak of the devil," Louis mutters as his hand darts out to silence the call, coming back to
wipe over his face exasperatedly. "Can I tell you something?”

Harry furrows his brows. "Um, sure? Don't really think you need my permission to start a
conversation, Louis."

Louis rolls his eyes.

“Do you remember that night, when you came over and made Zayn and me pasta?"

"Yes," Harry says slowly. "Are you asking me permission to talk about the pasta I made?"

Louis rolls his eyes even harder this time, leaning across the table to lightly swat Harry on his
arm. "Would you just shut up for a minute and let me talk?"

"Sure. I'm open to constructive criticism of any dishes I make, in case that was an issue."

"You are so fucking weird," Louis says under his breath, before straightening up and looking
at Harry intently.

"I brought up that night because you asked me something. You wanted to know why I took
that job at Devil May Care."

Harry blinks, parting his lips to say something but no words come out. The rapid change in
conversation topic nearly gives him whiplash.

Louis sighs at his confusion, shoulders slumping as he pulls his feet up onto the chair. He
wraps his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest.

“I figure you’ve put some of the pieces together well enough, not much point in not telling
you the whole story, yeah?”

Harry just nods once, not bothering to hide his curiosity. It's a question that's been present at
the back of his mind for weeks, but Louis seemed extremely uncomfortable the last time he
brought it up. He didn't want to push it until Louis was ready.

“It's because of my parents. Stripper with daddy issues, I'm a cliché, I know." Louis wipes a
hand over his face. "Look, my parents aren’t exactly the warm, nurturing type. They have
very clear expectations of how they want me to act and what they want me to accomplish,
and they don’t care a whole lot about me outside of that.”

“I’ve noticed,” Harry murmurs, and Louis huffs out a bitter laugh.
“Yeah, but I'm not sure you understand quite how far they go to keep me in line. One time,
they threatened to cut me off if I didn’t play nice with some random man that they set me up
with. He was an asshole, and a creep. But he was a billionaire's son, so naturally, my
discomfort didn’t matter to them. I tried to tell them no, and two hours later all my accounts
were frozen. I didn’t have any money for food, and the water and heat in my apartment were
shut off for a week in the middle of winter until I finally agreed to go out with him. Came to
my senses pretty quickly after that.”

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach as Louis barrels on. "I'm not going to bore you with the
details of all their offenses over the years, but when I complain about you having money, and
opportunities, and support, this is where I'm coming from. My parents give me just enough of
what I need to keep up appearances, but everything else is a bargaining chip for a game I
don't want to play."

"Jesus, Louis. How long has this been going on?"

Louis lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. "Forever, basically? I started work at the club about a
year ago, and it's been better since then. It pays really well while still letting me focus on
school. I can afford to say no to my parents a bit more, because now I have savings to pay for
food and utilities if it comes to that."

"There has to be another way," Harry says helplessly. "You shouldn't have to do this to have
basic freedoms, Louis."

Louis smiles ruefully. “I wish there was. But they're still paying my tuition and rent through
graduation, and I can’t afford that by myself. So even though it's risky in a lot of ways, the
job's worth it. And I'm sure you understand why I was insistent that no one can know, either.”

"Of course," Harry chokes out, clenching his hands into fists to resist the temptation to pull
Louis close to him. "Whatever you need."

He's about ready to promise Louis the world as the the sharp edges of years of memories with
him dull into something softer. The uptightness and constant attitude that Harry had chalked
up to an entitled personality were a result of too much pressure and too few nights of sleep,
all while Louis struggled to deal with someone who was snatching away the opportunities he
slaved for with less than half the effort. Whether or not it was Harry's fault, the thought sits
uncomfortably in his gut.

Another prickle of guilt overtakes him when he thinks about about the two others who know
about Louis' job, who won’t be as generous in respecting that Louis needs it to be kept a
secret. Harry almost opens his mouth to tell him. But then he looks at the clear lines of
exhaustion all over Louis' face, and he doesn’t have it in him to do it. He can’t add to the
burden on Louis’ shoulders right now.

A bit more selfishly, he's not ready to upset the delicate balance of their relationship,
especially after how tenuous things have felt tonight.

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry clears his throat. “You've been dealt an unfair hand in life and you
didn't need me making things harder when you were just trying to get by.”
“It’s not your fault, Harry,” Louis says softly. “I didn’t bring this up to make you feel sorry
for me. All I wanted was for you to understand where I was coming from. It's not an excuse
for shitting on your life decisions, but I hope you can hate me a little less for what I've said if
you know what's been going through my head.”

Louis is still curled into a ball on his chair as he finishes, and he looks so tired.

“I don't hate you,” Harry says gently. “And I understand. I really do. And honestly, if money
is an issue, you know I can always–”

“No.” Louis cuts him off sharply, and Harry snaps his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t run to someone with money to bail me out every time things don't go
my way. I can’t have that dependency on someone else ever again.”

Harry lets out a long exhale. “Okay,” he starts slowly, “I get that. But that doesn’t mean I’m
not going to be here if you need me. I know you have everything figured out for now, but if
that changes, I’ll still be here.”

Louis lets out a sharp laugh, a familiar one that Harry has come to recognize to mean that
he’s on the verge of too much emotion and doesn't know how to deal with it.

“We really know how to make a normal study session or rehearsal overly dramatic, don’t
we?” Louis quips, glossing over what Harry said, before sighing. “I was supposed to have
two of these assignments done by now.”

“I mean it, Louis,” Harry says anyway.

Louis just nods, swallowing once before turning back to his work without another word. He
keeps swiping at his eyes as he stares down at the papers.

Harry sighs.

“Louis, why don’t you take a break?” He asks carefully. “Tonight has been a lot, and you’re
barely concentrating. We can do something else, and you can finish up your work tomorrow.”

Louis glares a hole into his notes. “Yeah that would be fucking ideal, wouldn’t it?” He bites,
before slumping in his seat and rubbing at his eyes. “I wish I could, but it’s my night to help
Liam teach choreography to the first years before rehearsals tomorrow. I just don’t have the
time.”

Harry works his bottom lip under his teeth for a moment, pondering. “I can do it.”

Louis’ eyes snap up, but then he huffs and shakes his head. “I’m not going to ask you to do
that.”

“Good thing you’re not asking then, Louis, what did I just say? I said I’d be here if you
needed anything. I didn’t just throw some pretty words at you for the hell of it.”
Louis stares at him for a moment, face impassive, before his entire body slumps with
exhaustion.

“Thank you.” His voice cracks, laden with an emotion Harry can’t identify.

“You’re welcome,” Harry says brightly. “Now, wasn’t that easy?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he mutters. “If I get to take a break, we’re watching another
movie, and I get to choose this time.”

“Oh, good. It does feel like a 'Grease' kind of night.”

“I wasn’t going to pick that.”

“Okay, then I’m really excited to watch anything other than Grease.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him as they make their way into the living room. Harry takes note
of how they sit much more closely than before as they settle onto the couch, their sides nearly
flush. He doesn’t comment on it, just like he says nothing when Louis side-eyes him before
pulling up Grease on the TV.

He knows that Louis catches his smile out of the corner of his eye, and that’s enough for him.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

(9:15pm) Harry: Attachment: 1 Image

(9:18pm) Louis: what the actual fuck is that

(9:19pm) Harry: shirt for tonight

(9:20pm) Louis: ...

(9:20pm) Louis: ur joking

(9:20pm) Louis: that shirt has got to be a felony in at least 5 countries

Harry lets out a sharp cackle as he reads Louis last message, clapping a hand over his mouth.
He doesn’t think about what it means that he spends the next ten minutes trying to come up
with something witty to say back.

He pouts at his screen when he types out and deletes his fourth attempt at a response,
defeatedly placing his phone back down on the counter. Smoothing his hand over the shirt he
ended up going with after Niall's and Louis’ diatribes against his previous choice, Harry
admires how the ivory silk material makes him look more tan than he really is. His silver
cross necklace draws attention to the planes of his chest that have been fully exposed from
him letting down one too many buttons. If Louis had recently made an offhand comment
about how he likes to admire the bare chests of well built men, then it’s only a coincidence.

A knock sounds at the door, startling him. Harry curses and rushes out of the bathroom,
grabbing his keys off the hook near the door. He’s ready to berate Niall for not giving him
more of a head’s up as he opens the door, but stops short when Tom and Dylan’s mildly
amused expressions stare back at him.

“Going somewhere?” Tom asks, pointedly taking in Harry’s appearance.

“Um,” Harry clears his throat, waffling for a second as his eyebrows furrow. “What are you
guys doing here?”

Tom rolls his eyes. He pushes past Harry to walk inside while Dylan follows behind him,
though he has the decency to look the slightest bit contrite as they invade his space without
an invitation. Harry sighs and closes the door after them, irritation prickling his insides.

“You haven’t been out with us in a while, so we thought we’d stop by and drag you out
forcibly. But it looks like you already have plans.”

Harry opens his mouth to answer when his phone screen lights up with a notification from
Niall.

Got a car, five minutes away.

He grimaces, looking back up at Tom and Dylan. Five minutes. He can deal with them for
five minutes.

Harry clears his throat. “Yeah, Niall and I are heading out right now. He’s actually going to
be here really soon, so now’s not a great time.”

“So you aren’t too busy to go out,” Tom says accusingly. “I thought you had too much going
on to hang out, but now I’m wondering if you’re avoiding us on purpose.”

The truth is, hes been avoiding Tom and Dylan for a while now. He’s not sure how to explain
to them how much he’s grown to care for Louis, and that he has every intention of protecting
his secret for as long as necessary. Once he registered that he was afraid to tell them because
of how they might react, he had the sinking realization that he had outgrown his childhood
friends, and that they probably weren’t the kinds of people he wanted to keep in his life.

Harry shrugs it off, needing to do something to get them off his back. “I have been pretty
busy,” he lies. “You just caught me on a night that I’m free.”

“Alright, maybe Dylan and I can just meet you and Niall wherever you’re going? I’m sure
it’ll be as fun as any of our usual spots.”

Harry winces, because they really do seem to be making an effort. “You can’t, actually. We’re
meeting up with Louis. Niall’s only coming with me so I don’t end up going crazy by
spending time alone with him.”
“Tomlinson’s going?” Tom grins in a way that immediately puts Harry on edge. “All the
more reason for us to join in. Maybe we’ll get another taste of that sweet little dancing of his
if he has a couple of drinks in him.”

“Maybe a couple of drinks will get him to unclench a bit, too,” Dylan snickers.

Gritting his teeth, Harry suppresses the urge to throw Tom against the wall and wipe that
stupid expression off his face.

“You can’t come,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice even, “Louis can’t stand you and
he’ll be pissed off if I bring you with me.”

“Who cares?”

“I do. You know we have to get along for the sake of the play, and I can’t have you two
fucking with that by showing up and acting like dicks to him.”

“Fine,” Tom rolls his eyes, “Guess I can wait until the play’s over to see that asshole get his
dues. You figured out how you’re going to expose him yet? Because I still have plenty of
ideas if you’re feeling a bit stuck.”

“No,” Harry says sharply, immediately starting to flounder at Tom’s raised eyebrow. “Since I
can’t do anything to him right now, I’m playing the long game.” He frantically pulls a
justification out of his ass, knowing he has to provide Tom with something to keep the
situation manageable. “I’ve got a plan, and you two definitely can’t get involved if it’s going
to work. That means backing off completely. I’ve got it under control.”

Tom chuckles. “Still being all mysterious about it? I’ll give it to you, Styles, just because I
don’t think there’s a person on God’s green earth that’s suffered because of him more than
you have.”

Harry laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Glad we’re on the same page,
then.”

His phone lights up with another message. I’m outside, not waiting more than two minutes for
you to get your flat arse down here. Harry exhales a sigh of relief, gesturing to his phone.
“Niall’s waiting for me, so I’ve got to run. I’ll see you two later, though, yeah?”

He grabs his coat off the rack in the foyer as he quickly starts ushering Tom and Dylan out
the door. He staunchly avoids eye contact as he locks up behind them.

“So are we going to hear from you again, or is it going to be another month of radio silence?”

Harry waves them off, tugging on his coat as he starts down the stairs.

“I’ll see you both soon, don’t worry about it!” He calls over his shoulder.

He moves away from them as quickly as he can without flat out sprinting along the sidewalk.
Harry only relaxes when he sees Niall sitting in the backseat of the car idling outside.
“Hey,” he nods at Niall as he opens the door to the other side, sliding in and getting
comfortable before the driver pulls away from the curb.

Harry stares out the window for a few moments, pulling out his phone before hesitating. His
fingers hover over the keyboard as he pulls up his conversation with Louis, not for the first
time wondering if he should clue him in to what’s going on with Tom and Dylan.

Harry almost sends him a message. But the thought of dulling the brightness in Louis' eyes,
especially since he's been so stressed lately doesn't sit well with him, and he thinks that the
best thing he can do for Louis is to deal with this situation himself so Louis won't have to.

A deeper, uglier part of him can't risk having Louis hate him again. He'd had a brief taste of
what it would be like already, and the thought of losing Louis, of going back to being on the
receiving end of that disdain scares him more than he wants to admit.

Harry chews on his bottom lip, deleting the message he had typed out. He scrolls all the way
down their conversation, letting a soft smile escape when he sees Louis’ exaggerated diatribe
against his wardrobe choice, which he still hasn’t been able to counter.

“The fuck are you smiling at?” Niall’s voice startles him as he curses, almost dropping his
phone. The look Niall’s sending him from the other side of the car has Harry immediately
flustered.

“Nothing important,” Harry says, locking his phone and placing it face down on the seat next
to him. “Louis told me that the disco shirt I was wearing should be a crime in multiple
countries. Maybe you were right about swapping that one out.”

Niall snorts. “Of course I was right, that shirt was a fucking nightmare. Maybe Louis’ not so
bad after all.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Still can’t believe you’re making me come along and be nice to that twat.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Harry snaps, before clearing his throat at Niall’s raised
eyebrow. “Think of this as you returning the favor for the time you kicked me out of our
apartment so you could get laid.

“I knew I was going to pay for that,” Niall sighs, settling back into his seat. “Drinks are still
on you, yeah?”

“I like that you don’t even pretend that you’re not a freeloader.”

“Oh, I’m the freeloader? I’ll keep that in mind next time you spend summer in my family’s
home in Dublin and eat all of my food.”

Harry rolls his eyes and opens the door once the car comes to a stop in front of the bar,
feeling uncharacteristically nervous as Niall tips the driver before they head in.
Bringing Niall out to meet Louis shouldn’t be a problem. The two of them have the kinds of
personalities that should allow them to get along swimmingly, so long as Niall gets his head
out of his ass. Harry is still more on edge than he should be, still rattled from Tom and
Dylan's unexpected visit.

Once they’ve shed their coats and gotten their drinks at the bar, Harry scans the room to look
for Louis and Zayn. He’s ready to pull out his phone to text them when a distinctive light,
airy giggle floats through the air. Harry bites back a grin as he turns towards the source.

Louis and Zayn have made themselves comfortable in one of the booths of the pub, laughing
about something with half empty glasses already in front of them. Harry’s breath catches in
his throat when he sees Louis sitting at the table in a light blue shirt with the top few buttons
undone, a delicate silver necklace around his neck. The smudge of charcoal liner around his
eyes make him look alluring and a bit dangerous, and Harry takes a steadying breath before
he and Niall make their way over.

“Sorry we’re late,” Niall starts off in lieu of a greeting. He quickly slides into the booth next
to Zayn, leaving Harry to sit with Louis. “Harry decided to make a series of atrocious fashion
choices that I had to talk him out of, so it took a while for us to head out. I’m Niall, by the
way.”

“Zayn,” Zayn responds with an amused quirk of his lips.

“Don’t worry about being late,” Louis chimes in. “It’s better for you to show up hours late
than let Harry out of the house wearing that absolute crime against humanity.”

Harry turns to Louis with an affronted expression. “There’s nothing wrong with being a bit
creative with your fashion choices.”

“I know that. I’m creative with my fashion choices, you act like you just spin a wheel and
wear whatever outfit it lands on.”

Niall cackles. “Oh my god, that’s exactly what you look like.”

Harry frowns at him. “You said I looked good before we left!”

“You look great now,” Louis softens the slightest bit, “but there’s no way we’d be saying that
if you ended up going with that fucking eyesore. Why do you even own a shirt like that?
Why does it even exist ?”

“I mean, I’m no expert but this already seems like an interesting fashion choice,” Zayn
chimes in, gesturing to Harry’s white silk shirt that’s been unbuttoned all the way to his
navel.

“That’s not a fashion decision, that’s just Harry being a whore,” Niall replies.

Harry pouts dramatically. It seems that he had nothing to worry about, as it’s taken no time at
all for Louis and Niall to start bonding over their shared love of making fun of his wardrobe
choices.
“Anyway,” Louis says loudly, tearing his gaze away from where it was lingering on Harry’s
chest. Harry lets himself feel a twinge of satisfaction as Louis turns to Niall. “Harry told me
you’re a big Derby fan?”

“Oh, god, you got him started,” Harry groans into his hands as Niall’s face lights up.

“Do you watch football? Mate, I’m telling you, the way no one knows anything about
football around here has been the worst part of moving out of Dublin.”

“I’m a bit familiar with it. I used to summer in Manchester when I was younger, so I’m a
Man U fan myself. But I still keep up with the lower leagues every now and then.”

“Jesus, why the fuck did you have to go and say that?” Niall groans, turning to Harry. “I
thought you said he was cool!”

They continue to bicker with each other from across the table, and Harry quickly loses
interest in the conversation. He tunes out their jabs as he focuses on the way Louis argues
animatedly, eyes lighting up as he gesticulates wildly to make his points. It’s a welcome
distraction from the football-centric conversation that Harry could not care less about, even if
observing Louis so closely does make him slightly more aroused than he should be in a
public space.

It’s not entirely his fault.

Louis takes breaks from berating Niall to sip his beer from a straw , for fuck’s sake. Harry
had initially thought it was a joke when Louis had shyly explained to the bartender that he’s
quite clumsy and had spilled one too many beers on his friends when he requested a straw at
the counter, but Zayn had nodded solemnly as he corroborated the story.

The straw helps Louis’ case and worsens Harry’s as he watches Louis hollow his cheeks,
sipping from his glass in a way that has Harry subtly shifting in his seat.

It would be a lot easier if Harry didn’t think that sometimes, the sentiment could be
reciprocated.

Like right now, when Harry swears that Louis flicks his eyes in his direction before he takes a
sip, smirking around the straw as Harry's mind slowly unravels. Every nerve in his body
buzzes with the need to do something about it. But the memory of Louis literally fleeing the
room the last time they acted on their impulses is too fresh in his mind. He has some
semblance of self control, and the last thing Harry wants is to risk a situation like that again.

It still doesn’t dampen his urge to roughly drag Louis out of the booth and bend him over the
table, audience be damned.

“Fucking hell. Harry.” A finger snapping in his face jolts him out of his thoughts as he sees
Niall looking at him exasperatedly. Cheeks burning, he faces front, ignoring Louis’ quiet
giggle.

“What?” Harry asks sharply.

“We were talking about the play and I asked you about how it’s been going. Three times.”

“Oh,” Harry says a bit stupidly. “It’s been going well. At least since Louis stopped bitching
about every little thing I did.”

Louis sputters, mouth dropping open slightly. “Yeah, and it started going really well when
Harry stopped being an incompetent dickhead.”

Harry lets out a surprised giggle, reaching over to lightly pinch Louis’ waist in reprimand.
“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

“You started it.”

Niall is the first one of them to grow bored after their first few rounds of drinks sit empty in
front of them, starting to fidget in his seat.

“The dance floor looks good today, don’t you think? Looks really nice, proper fun and all
that. Anyone up for it?” Niall rambles out.

Zayn and Louis stare at him.

“Niall gets a little antsy once he gets a few drinks in him,” Harry explains upon seeing their
blank expressions. “You can keep sitting here if you want, and I can go give him some
company.”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll come along. Probably for the best if I save my money so I
can have a proper meal tomorrow, instead of blowing it all on a neon cocktail and having
sleep for dinner instead.”

“Wait, what?” Harry furrows his brows.

“It’s nothing,” Louis dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “Just annoying shit trying to make
the bills all balance out.”

Harry opens his mouth, but Louis is quick to cut him off.

“It’s not a big deal, okay? Nothing you need to worry about.”

Harry only nods, pressing his lips together even as his heart sinks slightly. Now's not the time
or place to push it.

“Anyway,” Louis turns to Zayn. “You up for some dancing, or do you need your minimum
three shots to even think about it?”

Zayn shrugs. “I’m up for it.”

“Fantastic!” Niall bellows, slapping an open palm on the table before getting up and running
off into the crowd. Louis stares amusedly after him.
“It’s like having to watch a child,” Harry complains.

“I like it,” Louis says fondly as they follow after him.

“Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to deal with him.”

Louis just hums in response as they reach the dance floor, wasting no time before grabbing
Harry’s hand to pull him in. Harry’s heart pounds as he’s immediately brought close enough
to count out the individual freckles across Louis’ cheeks, his hands going clammy as he starts
swaying awkwardly without really moving his feet.

Harry allows himself to be pulled further into Louis’ orbit, letting Louis sling his arms
around his neck as Harry lets his hands settle lightly around his waist. He can feel the heat of
Louis’ body through the material of his shirt, and he swallows as he flicks his eyes back up to
meet Louis’ gaze. A quick glance at their surroundings shows that Niall and Zayn are
nowhere to be seen, and Harry quickly realizes that the situation is starting to spell trouble for
him.

A sudden flash of mischief dances across Louis’ expression, and Harry gets the inkling that
he might not be too far off base with what he’s feeling. He finally allows the thrum of
excitement build in his gut as Louis dances so close to him, lips pulling into a smirk as the
position they’re in brings about a strong sense of deja vu.

“You know, we end up in this position quite a lot for two people who never liked each other.”

Louis huffs out a laugh, close enough that Harry can feel the warm puff of air against his
chin.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” he responds, rolling his hips with a little more enthusiasm
as they continue moving to the beat of the music.

“Careful,” Harry chides with no heat behind it, eyes carefully tracking the movements of
Louis’ body. “Keep that up and you might ruin that pristine reputation of yours.”

The sultry look Louis gives him through his eyelashes should be considered publicly
indecent, the charcoal liner around his eyes making his blue gaze that much more electric.
Harry feels his breath hitch, grip involuntarily tightening around Louis’ hips.

“You’re the only one paying attention to me right now, and I have no delusions of being a
‘good boy’ around you.”

Harry smirks, taking advantage of their proximity to lean in closely so his lips are brushing
the shell of Louis’ ear.

“We’re in a bar full of men, and you think I’m the only one looking at you?” He slides one
hand to span Louis’ lower back in a protective hold, pulling him closer as the realization
ignites an illicit flash of possessiveness.

Louis hums thoughtfully as Harry pulls back to meet his eye. “I guess you’re right. There’s
no way they're all looking this way to watch you dance with your sense of rhythm.”
Chuckling dryly, Harry slides his hand up to cup Louis’ cheek, lightly stroking the pad of his
thumb over his lips. “You know, I really thought you’d be a little less mouthy now that we’re
supposed to be friends.”

“It’s not my fault you’re that naive,” Louis responds nonchalantly, pressing against Harry in a
way that has his breath catching in his throat.

“Besides,” he adds, a light smirk taking over his features, “if it’s really bothering you, I’m
sure you can think of at least one way to shut me up.”

Fixing Harry with a heavy gaze, Louis doesn’t break eye contact as he takes Harry’s thumb
into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering as he wraps his lips around his finger and sucks.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry curses lowly.

Every coherent thought in his mind becomes a distant memory as all the blood in his body
rushes downwards. He stops all his other movements, slowly pumping his thumb in and out
of Louis’ mouth before he can’t take it anymore, barely registering that they’re in public
through his aroused haze. Pulling Louis off his finger, Harry wraps a hand around his wrist in
a tight grip to pull him forward.

“Bathroom, now.”

Louis doesn’t resist as Harry leads him through the crowd. They carefully maneuver their
way through the throng of people, the journey feeling like it takes hours until they make it to
the bathroom at the back of the bar.

Harry has Louis pinned against the wall of the single-stall room before the door fully shuts,
grabbing his wrists and holding them against the wall next to his head. He immediately fixes
his lips to the column of Louis’ throat, the skin looking too enticing for him to think of doing
anything else.

Louis moans softly, going pliant as he tilts his head back and lets Harry have his way.

It’s only once Harry starts biting down on his skin that Louis puts a hand between them to
push him away.

“No marks,” he gasps out. When Harry furrows his eyebrows, he swallows nervously. “I
can’t– no marks. For work.”

Harry swallows, shoving down the possessive, animalistic urge to suck bold, deep bruises
into Louis’ neck, letting all the men at the club know that Louis is properly taken care of by
someone else. He respects Louis’ wishes as he mouths his way back up his neck before
capturing his lips in a bruising kiss.

Slipping a thigh between Louis’ legs, Harry allows them to grind against each other with wild
abandon. Louis slowly starts to unravel, while Harry’s cock rapidly hardens against his hip.
As Louis’ movements grow more frantic, Harry cradles his head by slipping a hand between
him and the wall, worried that he’ll hurt himself.
Louis pulls away after a few minutes, parting their lips with an audible smack. He pants with
his head tilted back against the wall, gaze heavy.

“Let me,” Louis whispers.

Harry’s given no time to prepare before Louis flips them so Harry is backed into the wall,
before dropping to his knees. Sliding his hands up the front of Harry’s thighs, Louis slowly
moves over the front of his jeans until he’s palming over his crotch. Harry hisses at the
sensation, bucking his hips up into the contact.

Making quick work of his zipper, Louis curls his fingers around his waistband to pull down
his pants and underwear with one fluid motion. He blinks languidly, eyes tracking the
movement of Harry’s already hard cock as it springs free from his boxers.

Shuffling forward until his face is right next to the tip, he reaches his tongue out to lightly
lick at the head while looking up at Harry through his eyelashes.

Harry’s cock blurts out a bit of precome at the action, and Louis smirks up at him.

“It's embarrassing how badly you want me right now.”

Harry huffs out a groan, reaching a hand out to trace along the hollow of Louis’ cheek.

“Always so sassy,” he murmurs. “But I think there are better things you could be using that
mouth for right now, don’t you?”

Louis’ smirk deepens. Maintaining eye contact, he leans closer and wraps his lips around the
head of Harry’s cock, sucking harshly at the tip. Harry inhales sharply, scrambling for
purchase against the tiled wall.

“Holy shit, fuck,” he moans, eyes fixed on the way Louis’ lips are already stretched
obscenely around his length, and it’s taking everything he has to not start thrusting into the
wet heat.

It gets harder as Louis starts bobbing his head, taking in more and more of Harry’s cock each
time he goes down. Harry has to force himself to look away, focusing his eyes on the mirrors,
the light fixtures, the toilet in the corner, and anything else that could prevent this from being
over all too soon.

“Oh God, Lou, just like that. You’re so good, baby,” Harry breathes out, and Louis picks up
speed at the praise, working his mouth over Harry expertly.

In a sudden movement, Louis sucks him down all the way to the base while simultaneously
tonguing over the head. It catches Harry completely off guard as he bucks his hips forward
instinctively, causing Louis to pull off and sputter.

“Shit, Louis, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry. I can control myself,” he
babbles, but Louis is already shaking his head.
“Do it,” he rasps out, and when Harry doesn’t react he moves one of his hands to place it on
the back of his head. “Do it, don’t be gentle.”

Harry takes a deep, steadying breath, trying to pull himself together.

“Are you sure?” He forces himself to ask, self control melting away when Louis clasps his
hands behind his back, tilting his head back almost challengingly.

“Fuck, okay.”

Harry strokes a hand over Louis’ head before settling in the fine hairs at the base of his neck.
“Pinch me if it gets to be too much, okay?”

He waits for Louis’ nod of confirmation before slowly feeding his cock back into Louis’
mouth, muscles trembling with the strain of holding himself back.

Thrusting in experimentally, Harry carefully monitors Louis’ reactions and gives him time to
adjust before he begins picking up the pace. As he slowly builds up a rhythm, he tangles his
fingers in Louis’ hair, holding him still as he finally starts fucking his mouth in earnest.

A sudden, deep thrust in has Louis choking, tears springing up in his eyes. Louis moans at the
sensation, sending vibrations up Harry’s cock that nearly make him dizzy. Louis’ mouth is
warm and wet, his tongue insatiable as it wanders all over Harry’s length.

Harry fucks in harder and harder, letting himself go and focusing on chasing his release as he
feels Louis’ throat contracting around his cock. Tears are flowing down his face freely, and
all it takes is one look at Louis' wrecked expression before Harry pulls him off just enough to
be able to come down his throat without him choking. Louis works him through his orgasm,
dutifully swallowing everything before pulling off Harry’s cock with a slightly dazed
expression.

Louis stands up shakily, looking at Harry uncertainly. There are tear tracks down his cheeks,
smudged eyeliner and a flushed face making his eyes stand out like gems. It contrasts with
his insecure stance so harshly that something in Harry softens.

“Come here, baby,” Harry rasps, reaching out to Louis and pulling him close.

He makes quick work of the zip on Louis’ pants, slipping a hand inside Louis’ boxers. For a
moment, Harry is tempted to return the favor properly. But a look down at Louis’ cock shows
that it’s beyond hard, the tip an angry red, and he decides to aim for efficiency for Louis’
sake.

Next time, his mind supplies traitorously. Harry banishes the thought as soon as it dares to
form.

Wrapping a hand around Louis’ cock, Harry jerks him off quickly, twisting around the head
to collect precome and make the glide a bit easier. Louis drops his forehead on Harry’s
shoulder, softly groaning into his shirt as he practically melts into his body.
“Oh God,” Louis moans into Harry’s shoulder as his orgasm rips through him, spilling into
Harry’s hand.

Harry strokes over Louis’ back slowly as the boy’s knees start to buckle. Keeping his arm
around Louis’ waist to hold him upright, he reaches over to grab a couple of paper towels
from the dispenser. He uses the tissue to clean his hands while Louis recovers.

Harry throws the dirty tissues in the trash, suddenly growing nervous as he turns to face
Louis.

“Hey,” he starts hesitantly, “we didn’t make anything weird between us just now, did we? I
don’t want this to– we’re okay, right?”

Louis snorts. “After everything, I highly doubt getting each other off in a bar bathroom is
going to be what sends us over the edge.”

Harry exhales a sigh of relief. “So you’re not going to run out on me this time?”

“Shut up,” Louis mutters, reaching over to pinch his nipple. “That was a perfectly reasonable
reaction at the time.”

Harry grins, grabbing Louis’ wandering hands and stilling them by pulling them against his
chest.

Louis' eyes flick to Harry's lips before he pulls back, blushing slightly.

“Alright, then,” he says. “Let’s go back outside and pretend nothing happened when the boys
ask. Don’t think I can handle another round of questions from Zayn, the perceptive fucker.”

Harry huffs out a laugh as he opens the door for Louis. “After you,” he says with exaggerated
politeness, gesturing towards the exit.

Louis rolls his eyes as he steps through the door. Harry doesn’t try very hard to prevent his
gaze from drifting downwards as he follows behind him, entranced by the soft movements of
Louis’ hips.

As he's caught up in his respectful admiration of Louis' form, Louis suddenly turns around to
look back at him, faster than Harry can snap his gaze back up to eye level.

“Knew I’d catch you doing that,” he says smugly.

Despite the fact that Harry’s cock had been down Louis’ throat less than two minutes ago, he
falters, feeling himself flush at being caught out.

“I wasn’t– shut up,” he mutters.

Louis giggles into his hand. "Don't worry, babe, I'm flattered. I can't blame you for enjoying
the view while you can." He winks cheekily before walking off again, putting an exaggerated
sway into his hips as he goes.
He turns his head back to face Harry once again when he’s further ahead, sending him a
bright, cheeky smile over his shoulder. It’s the kind that makes his eyes crinkle into slits, and
Harry feels his heart stutter in his chest. It brings about a strange, unfamiliar feeling for him,
a sense that he’s dancing blindly along the edge of a cliff, not knowing which false step will
be the one to send him toppling over into the unknown.

He’s glad Louis agreed that nothing between them would be weird. Harry fully intends to
keep that promise. But what he’s suspected for a while, that’s only confirmed he watches
after Louis from a distance as they make their way back to their booth, is that for him,
something has shifted.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

After breaking the tension during their reckless night out at the bar, neither of them could
find a good enough reason to keep their hands off each other. It starts only with quick mutual
blowjobs in their apartments or the odd hand job in the costume closet after rehearsals, but
it’s enough that Harry picks up a multipack of condoms at the grocery store to keep in his
nightstand.

He has no idea what they’re doing, what it means, or if Louis is doing it with anyone else.
While he knows that neither of them can bring themselves to say the words to truly question
or define what it is, he also can’t pretend that the idea of someone else having what he has
with Louis doesn’t make his chest tighten uncomfortably.

It keeps happening, and Harry pretends it doesn’t bother him, that Louis never lingers after
they finish getting each other off. Or that he jokes about the situation easily when he pulls his
clothes on, eyes remaining guarded.

Harry’s in the middle of getting dressed to head down to the bakery, wanting to pick up a box
of fresh scones for Louis before he and Zayn show up for a movie night. He’s a bit frazzled
as he tears through his room to look for his wallet, checking the time on his phone and
cursing.

Cheering triumphantly when he finds his wallet sandwiched between his bedsheets, Harry
runs a quick hand through his hair to tame it as he rushes out of his room.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Harry freezes as Niall appears from behind the fridge door as he slams it shut, leaning
casually against the appliance. He holds Harry’s stare as he takes an obnoxious bite out of an
apple. “Zayn and Louis are going to be here any minute now. Where are you off to in such a
hurry?”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. “I was just going to go grab a couple of scones from Ethel’s
bakery.”
Niall looks unimpressed. “It’s five o’clock. The lines at Ethel’s are going to be hell right
now.”

“Yeah, well, they only make fresh batches early in the morning and right before the post-
work rush, so now is the only good time to go.”

Niall hums like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Right. Why have you never gone at this time
before? You always said the lines were a nightmare and the fresh stuff just wasn’t worth it.
It’s interesting that you’ve suddenly changed your mind.”

Harry huffs out a breath. “I didn’t realize wanting to get a scone involved an interrogation.”

“It’s not an interrogation. All I said was that I find your behavior very interesting. Any
chance you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, knowing Niall’s not going to let this go. He feels his
shoulders slump with defeat.

“Louis only likes the scones when they’re fresh,” he mumbles. The admission feels heavier
than it should in the silence that stretches between them.

“Oh,” Niall raises an eyebrow, sounding a bit gleeful but not at all surprised. “Louis likes
fresh scones. Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says carefully, fidgeting as Niall just looks at him amusedly.

Niall rolls his eyes, taking another bite out of the apple. “Okay, I get it. I guess we’re still
pretending that you two haven’t been spending every waking moment together for the last
month? Or that I didn’t see you drag Louis off to a bar bathroom after he sucked on your
finger in the middle of the dance floor?”

Harry gapes at him, feeling his cheeks heat. “You saw that?”

“Mate, I think everyone saw that. Every man in that bar was already looking at Louis, and
you two weren’t exactly subtle.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about it before?”

“Why didn’t you?” Niall shoots back. “I was waiting for you to bring it up on your own, but
it’s been a month and I’ve still gotten nothing.”

“I don’t know, it was weird, Niall,” Harry bursts out suddenly, feeling a bit frantic at being
called out so unexpectedly. “I didn’t know how the fuck to explain what was happening, and
I didn’t even know if Louis was okay with anyone else knowing.”

Niall observes him for a bit, before speaking slowly. “So this has been going on for however
long, and now you’re going to go wait in line in eighty degree weather just so Louis can have
a fresh scone?”
Harry flushes darker. He opens his mouth to defend himself, ready to explain that Ethel’s
bakery is Louis’ childhood favorite, and that Louis had been upset that he could never get
their fresh scones anymore because he was always too busy or too tired from work to wake
up early in the morning. The words remain unspoken as Harry realizes that the explanation
only incriminates him further.

Niall sighs and tosses his apple core into the trash, wiping his hands off on his jeans as he
looks at Harry pointedly.

“I’m just trying to understand, mate. I mean– you know what this looks like, don’t you?”
Niall’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, and Harry feels the tips of his ears burn as he’s
unable to meet his gaze.

“It doesn’t mean anything. We’re just– I’m just going to go,” Harry mumbles awkwardly,
pointing towards the front door with his thumb and turning around to leave.

“He’s a great guy, Harry,” Niall continues anyway. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think
whatever’s going on with you is entirely one-sided. It's just– he’s a bit tough to read, yeah?
Just, be careful.”

Tell me about it, Harry wants to say, but chooses to ignore him, because he can’t do this right
now. Can’t think about the implications about what Niall said about his own feelings, and
definitely can’t think about the possibility of Louis feeling the same.

All he’s going to think about right now is walking to the bakery and staying in that god awful
line until he has half a dozen fresh scones in his hands. All he wants to do is make Louis’
day, and not think about what it all means.

“Do you all mind?” Niall stands in front of the couch with an eyebrow raised, gesturing
towards the general area that Harry, Louis, and Zayn are occupying.

“The couch has plenty of room, Ni, just sit somewhere else.”

“Yeah, but I can’t reach the snacks from the rest of the couch and there’s no footrest there
either. Someone budge over.”

“I’m not moving,” Zayn says decisively.

Niall turns to Harry expectantly. Harry sighs, looking down at Louis, who’s curled up next to
him with his head resting on his shoulder. He had been glued to Harry’s side the entire night,
declaring him to be his favorite person when Harry had surprised him by brandishing the box
of scones as soon as he stepped through the door, while steadfastly ignoring Niall’s knowing
gaze.

Louis had seemed a bit off from the time he arrived, a tense set in his shoulders and his
energy more subdued than usual. Zayn has been shooting him looks of concern the entire
time they’ve been here, confirming Harry’s suspicions. The scones did seem to perk him up
to the point that he’s been acting almost normally, but Harry isn’t fooled. He’s been itching
for an opportunity to ask what’s wrong, but hasn’t had the chance to get him alone.

He puts it out of his mind for now, smiling at the bits of leftover pastry crumbs he can see
sticking around Louis’ lips. Working one hand under Louis’ knees and wrapping another
around his waist, Harry pulls him onto his lap in one fluid motion.

Louis curses as he's jolted from his spot, before looking over his shoulder to scowl at him.

“A bit of warning would be nice,” he grumbles. “I don’t like to be manhandled.”

Harry cackles, before leaning forward to whisper into Louis’ ear.

“Are you sure about that, baby?” He murmurs so the others can’t hear, lightly moving his
hands to wrap around Louis’ waist and squeezing. He relishes in the way Louis goes still.
“Because I can think of a few times off the top of my head where that definitely wasn’t true.”

“Alright, fantastic, thanks mate,” Niall breaks the moment as he takes a seat in the spot
recently vacated by Louis.

He sits down roughly in between Harry and Zayn, and Louis uses the excuse of being jostled
to elbow Harry in the torso. The effect of his annoyance is lessened significantly when he
melts back into Harry’s chest only a second later.

“Hey, Harry,” Niall calls out from next to him, looking at something on his phone. “Tom and
Dylan are on my ass about going clubbing this weekend, and told me to ask you to come
with. Apparently they haven’t seen you in a while.”

Harry can feel Louis go tense on his lap, and he slowly strokes a finger over Louis’ waist in
what he hopes is a soothing motion. “Tell them I’m not coming. If they can't get it through
their heads that I'm avoiding them on purpose, that's not my problem.”

Harry looks up at the ensuing silence, sighing at Niall’s raised eyebrow. He can feel Louis
and Zayn’s eyes on him, and does his best to keep the situation light. “I did some thinking
recently, and I don't consider them my friends anymore.”

Niall shrugs and turns back to his phone. “Seems fair. They really turned into some right
twats, didn’t they?”

Harry snorts his agreement.

“I always thought Tom smelled like hair gel and wet clothes,” Louis pipes up, considerably
more relaxed after Harry’s admission. “I have no idea how you two put up with that for so
long.”

“The smell was the dealbreaker for you?” Harry giggles. “Tell me what I smell like, then. It
has to be something good if you’ve stuck around this long.”

“Stop fishing for compliments, it’s not cute.”

“Maybe you should stop lying, I’m definitely cute.” Harry pinches Louis’ hip, tensing to
prepare for the elbow that inevitably lands squarely in his side.

Once they settle down, Harry glances up to see Niall looking at them intently. He
immediately feels exposed under his knowing gaze.

“Louis, do you have a boyfriend?”

Louis whips his head around to stare at Niall, bewildered by the sudden topic change. Harry
tenses, shooting daggers at his friend.

“No, no boyfriend,” Louis responds slowly.

“And you’re not looking either? No one who’s catching your attention right now?”

Louis lets out a confused giggle, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why, you interested?”

“No, unfortunately for you,” Niall grins back at him. “Would you believe me if I said I was
actually asking for a friend?”

Harry grinds his teeth together, jaw tensing. He is absolutely going to kill him.

Louis lets out a full-bodied laugh at that, and Harry can feel the vibrations against his chest.
“Definitely never heard that one before.”

“Didn’t we spend ten minutes fighting over sofa spots so we could watch a movie?” Harry
interrupts, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “Maybe someone should actually put one on.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Relax, babe, the movie isn’t going anywhere. You got all your studying
done until next week, so what’s the rush?”

“Studying?” Niall nearly breaks his neck to look over at Harry incredulously. “You were
studying?”

Harry feels the prickle of defensiveness take over, but Louis is cutting in before he can say
anything.

“Yes, he was,” Louis says sharply. “He learned the entire chapter on foreign exchange rates in
less than an hour, it was incredible. Real natural, this one.” He reaches behind him to pat
Harry on his cheek.

It’s quiet as Niall stares at him, before fixing his gaze on Harry as he responds with a hum.

“What?” Louis asks.

“Nothing,” Niall says, not breaking eye contact. “Just interesting, I suppose.”

Harry squirms under the appraisal.

“Let’s watch Spider-Man,” he says, a touch too loudly.

Niall, thankfully, takes the hint, nodding his agreement as he finally settles back into his seat.

Harry wraps his arms tightly around Louis' waist, hoping he can’t feel his heart pounding
through his chest.

Harry finally finds a window to check in with Louis when the movie ends and Louis sneaks
into the kitchen to refill his drink.

“Hey,” he sidles up next to Louis at the sink, “everything okay?”

Louis falters as he sips from the glass, avoiding Harry’s eye. “Yeah, all good.”

Harry’s brows furrow. “Come on, Lou. You can tell me what’s going on.”

Louis sighs and lowers the glass, placing it on the counter. “Harry, it’s really not a big deal.
Just something I have to deal with.”

“Can’t you tell me about it anyway? I might be able to do something to help, you know.”

Louis snorts derisively. “What, by throwing money at it like you offered the last time?”

Harry pulls back, hurt.

“No, by being your friend. Because I don’t want you to deal with everything on your own,
Louis. I want you to understand that you don't have to.” Harry runs a hand through his hair,
unable to keep the frustration from his tone. “Not because I have some savior complex that I
want to feed by throwing money at your problems. But it’s nice to know that’s what your
mind first went to when I offered to help.”

Louis has the decency to look a bit guilty, but the expression passes quickly. He narrows his
eyes, stepping up into Harry’s space.

“Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to talk about every little problem that comes
up in my life? If I did, it would be all we talked about. Sometimes I want a break from all the
shit going on around me.”

“Zayn clearly knows what’s going on.”

“Zayn's been around a lot longer than you have. I can trust him to deal with things the way I
need him to.”

Harry laughs bitterly. “So you’re saying you don’t trust me.”

Louis sighs wearily. “That’s not–it’s not that I don’t trust you,” he says weakly.

“But you just don’t trust me enough,” Harry says flatly.

There’s a beat of silence that follows as Louis opens his mouth, but no words come out. The
hesitation tells Harry everything he needs to know.

“Right,” Harry says, swallowing around the lump that starts to form in his throat. “Are we
really even friends, Louis? Or have you just been humoring me this whole time, and
everything we've been doing together is for the sake of the play?"

Louis' eyes flash at that, face flushing with anger.

"How dare you fucking say that," he grits out. "You know so many things about me that no
one else does. You could ruin me with a snap of your fingers, and I still give so much of
myself over to you every single day, and you want to fucking ask me if I'm faking our
friendship?"

"So what?" Harry says hotly. "Friendships are based on trust, and you’ve never trusted me,
not really. I guess I was stupid to think that would change.”

He falters when Louis looks at him with wide eyes, and feels the fight leave him. "I'm sorry.
Maybe I'm not being fair. I just want to be there for you, Louis. I can't do that if you don't let
me."

“Harry–” Louis starts, mouth parting but not forming any more words as he opens and closes
his mouth a bit helplessly.

“Let’s head back to the others,” Harry says when he can’t take the silence anymore. “Zayn
might start to get worried, since he actually knows what’s wrong.”

He can’t resist one final jab as he turns on his heel, walking out to the living room without
looking back.

When Louis settles onto a corner of the couch far away from him, Harry ignores the feeling
that he’s massively fucked up somehow.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

Harry lies sprawled out on his couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone without
digesting anything he’s seeing on the screen. The clock ticks past two in the morning, and
Harry can feel his eyelids start to droop with exhaustion.

He should have been in bed hours ago. But while he doesn’t want to admit it to himself,
Louis gets off work at two and sometimes texts him afterwards with little updates during his
train ride home.
They haven’t seen each other in the week since they’d fought in Harry’s kitchen. While
they’d kept up casual conversation through text, it’s leagues away from the constant contact
that they had before. As Harry lies on the couch, eyes burning with fatigue, he can’t help the
small inkling of hope that Louis could reach out tonight, and wants to be awake in case he
does.

The time nears two-forty, and Harry still hasn’t heard anything from Louis. He stands up
from the couch, knees cracking as he ignores the sharp twinge of disappointment that runs
through him. He gives up any pretense of staying up for his own sake, trudging to his room in
defeat. He’s just about to flop onto bed without bothering to change when a knock at the front
door startles him.

Harry approaches the door a bit cautiously, his mind not coming up with a single desirable
reason that someone would be at his door so late. Chancing a look through the peephole, he
quickly pulling back to open the door to the sight of a frazzled looking Louis. He looks small
and a bit frantic in his oversized tracksuit.

“Louis? What are you doing here?”

Louis takes a deep breath, fingers fidgeting relentlessly. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late, and I
should have called first. I don’t want to bother you if you were about to sleep.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows at the tense jerkiness of Louis’ movements.

“No, not at all,” he lies easily, “I was going to stay up anyway, and it’ll be nicer to do it with
company than just fucking around alone on my phone.”

He steps back and lets Louis in, shutting the door behind him. He turns around to the sight of
Louis’ eyes flicking all over the apartment, not meeting his gaze as he chews on a fingernail
nervously.

“Louis?”

“Can you kiss me, please?” Louis asks suddenly, striding up to Harry and wrapping his hands
around his biceps.

“Um,” Harry says, heart rate picking up even as he feels a little lost at the desperate look in
Louis’ eyes.

“Please, just kiss me, put your hands on me, anything you want.”

“Louis–” Harry starts, swallowing down his arousal at the way Louis’ voice goes high and
breathy as he literally begs to be touched. He's tempted, but something about Louis’ mood is
decidedly off. His movements are too frantic, his tone on the wrong side of too desperate, and
it’s enough to give Harry pause.

He grimaces slightly as he extricates Louis’ hands from his arm, putting a couple inches of
space between them.
“Why don’t we sit down for a second?” He suggests tentatively, already regretting it when
Louis pulls back, cheeks flaming as he nods jerkily.

“Oh, um, sure.” Louis ducks his head. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, sorry. I
know we haven’t really talked since last week or anything– but I thought you might want to–
sorry.”

“Hey, hey, Lou, it’s okay. It’s not that I don’t want to. And our fight last week was on me,
Lou. I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

He pauses, frowning as Louis nods without really looking at him. "Do you want to tell me
what’s wrong?”

Louis presses his palms into his eyes and shakes his head frantically. Harry’s concern grows
as he takes a hold of Louis’ wrist, pressing his lips to Louis’ knuckles to calm him down. He
freezes as he realizes what he’s done, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind.

Harry gently tugs on his wrist to lead him to the couch, and Louis comes easily. Harry sinks
into the cushions, settling in comfortably. He frowns at the way Louis’ back remains rigidly
straight, shoulders taut with tension. His cheeks remain bright red as he steadfastly avoids
eye contact, and more than anything Harry wants to wipe the uncharacteristic embarrassment
off his expression.

“Come here,” Harry says softly, patting his thigh and waiting for Louis to get the hint.
Swallowing visibly, Louis braces a hand on one of the cushions as he swings a leg over
Harry’s lap. He ends up straddling him, bum seated firmly on Harry’s thighs.

Sliding a hand to Louis’ hips, Harry slowly strokes over the fabric of his tracksuit with his
thumb. “What happened, baby?” The endearment slips past his lips without permission.

Louis drops his head, fixing his gaze towards Harry’s navel as he plays with one of the
strings on Harry’s sweatshirt.

“I had a bad day at work today,” he murmurs.

Harry feels his stomach drop. There aren’t a whole lot of options for what a bad day at work
can entail for Louis, and Harry steels himself for the full story.

“I guess there was some kind of boxing match that happened in the city earlier tonight, and a
bunch of guys came into the club all at once. They were even more rowdy than usual. I tried
to push through it, because the club has rules, you know. They’re pretty strict on the no
touching and no filming, but we were understaffed today,” Louis whispers. “I think security
had a tough time with everyone in there, and they just couldn’t stop them all. A lot of people
got their hands through, and they were saying all this shit to me–”

He breaks off, voice shaking, and Harry swallows, running a soothing hand up his back even
as he feels his heart sink. He takes a deep breath to try and control his reaction, knowing he
has to show Louis that he can be trusted.
“Fuck,” Louis spits out suddenly, swiping at his eyes where wetness has started to build. “I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t have come here so late and laid it all on you. I should be used to it by now,
but some days it just gets to me.”

“Hey, no, Louis,” Harry says firmly, wrapping a hand around Louis’ fidgeting fingers to still
them. “I don’t ever want you to apologize for coming to me for help when you need it. And I
definitely don’t want to hear you talk about how you should be used to something like this.
What happened today, it’s not okay. It’s never okay, and I hate how it affects you but the
alternative of you getting used to it scares me even more.”

Louis nods, yanking one of Harry’s hoodie strings harshly before wrapping his arms around
Harry’s neck, burying his nose into his skin.

“Thank you,” Louis mumbles into his skin. “And I’m sorry for coming onto you like that, it’s
just– I wanted someone to do the same things they did, to put their hands on my body but
make it feel safe again.”

Harry’s heart hammers in his chest, and he’s almost grateful that Louis can’t see his
expression as the words slowly sink in.

“I make you feel safe?”

Louis pulls back, expression serious even as he pokes a finger into Harry’s cheek where his
dimple appears.

“Of course you do. I mean, I’ve been bent over in more bathroom stalls than you can count,”
Harry’s grip on his hips tightens, “and I have never been treated better or taken care of as
well as I have when I've been with you. Even when you hated me. You’re so good about
looking after what I want, and making sure that it’s good for me too. It's been incredible,”
Louis finishes softly.

Harry’s stomach sinks at the dull gray lump of common decency that Louis is so in awe of.
He closes his eyes, fisting his hands into the fabric of Louis’ track pants as he pushes down
the urge to throttle every man that has been with Louis before that contributed to making him
feel this way.

“What I gave you was the bare fucking minimum,” Harry’s voice practically vibrates with
anger, and Louis’ eyes widen as his hand drops from Harry’s cheek.

“I know it might not have meant much to you,” he responds, averting his eyes, “but–”

Harry is already shaking his head, unease curling in his stomach as he realizes how that must
have come across.

“No. No. That’s not what I meant.” He sneaks a hand under Louis’ chin, gently raising his
head so they’re looking each other in the eye.

“I’m so glad that you feel safe with me, and I feel the same way about you. But all those
things you’re describing? That’s the absolute least you should accept from anyone, ever. I–
God, Lou, there’s so much more to being with someone than just mutual pleasure. There’s so
much more that you deserve to experience.”

Louis looks skeptical. “Like what?”

“Like–” Harry flounders as words come rushing to the forefront of his mind, words that he’s
been too afraid to say for so long. “Have you ever had someone tell you how beautiful you
are when you’re laid out bare for them? How the noises you make when you’re experiencing
pleasure are their favorite sounds? How lucky they are that they had the chance to have you
this way?”

In the back of his mind, Harry goes back to his conversation with Niall. The words you know
what this looks like, don’t you taunt him as the pure, unfiltered thoughts flow from him freely.
He can't find it within himself to regret it when he sees the way Louis’ mouth parts in awe.

“That– that sounds nice. Like, really nice,” Louis says, cheeks completely aflame as he blinks
slowly, squirming slightly on Harry’s lap. “But I don’t want someone to say those things to
me just because they think they should. I want them to mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Harry blurts out, watching Louis’ eyes widen. “All those things I said, I
meant every word.”

Louis still looks a bit unsure. “Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to,” Harry admits. “But it’s always been on my mind.”

“You could have,” Louis says quietly. “I think I would have liked– I mean, if you wanted to,
you could have.”

Harry’s heart pounds. “I still can.”

Louis’ eyes snap up to his. “What?”

Harry swallows, in too deep to back out, but he can’t bring himself to regret anything he said.
It was his honest truth, and even if their future is uncertain with the weight of the admissions
that hang in the air, Harry could never trade an opportunity to show Louis what he’s worth.

“I could show you. Everything I’ve held back, everything I think you deserve. Everything I
know you do. If you want me to.”

“I want you to,” Louis' words are barely above a whisper, but it feels louder than a gunshot in
the silence of Harry’s apartment. “I think, maybe, I’ve been holding back too and I don’t
want to do that anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Harry murmurs, leaning in and capturing Louis’ lips in a slow, languid kiss.

Louis makes a small noise of contentment as he responds, allowing the kiss to deepen when
his mouth parts for Harry’s tongue.
Harry slides a hand under the fabric of Louis’ jacket, feeling up his back until his fingers
meet a rough, mesh texture around his middle. Flattening his palm against the small of Louis’
back, he uses the leverage to pull him in closer. Louis comes easily, using the encouragement
to start slowly rocking his hips over Harry’s crotch, Harry quickly feeling himself start to
harden in his sweats.

Fingers eventually work their way into Harry’s long curls, fisting his hair and giving it a
sharp tug that has Harry moaning and bucking his hips up to meet Louis’.

“Fuck,” he curses as his cock starts straining against his boxers, finally parting their lips. He
pets over the strip of skin under Louis’ jacket, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Let me
take you to bed.”

Louis’ eyelashes flutter as he grinds his hips down into Harry’s crotch one final time.
“Please.”

Leaning back, Louis puts some space between their torsos as he reaches for his zip. He opens
up his jacket and shrugs it off his shoulders to reveal a skintight, black mesh top. His nipples
are clearly visible through the holes in the fabric, and Harry instinctively runs a thumb over
one of them, watching the way Louis squeezes his eyes shut and shivers with fascination.

Louis lets out a soft whine when Harry increases the pressure, and that’s about all he can
take. Working his hands under Louis’ thighs, he stands up and lifts Louis in one fluid motion,
chuckling softly as Louis yelps.

“Harry, if you fucking drop me–”

“I won’t. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you. Just trust me.”

Louis makes an aborted noise in his throat at the double meaning, clutching onto Harry
tightly as he maneuvers them through the hallways into his bedroom.

The journey there is uneventful. There’s only one close call when Louis nearly hits his head
on the doorframe, earning Harry a pointed glare.

Harry carefully lays Louis down when they reach his bed, taking a second to admire how he
looks laid out on the sheets. He leans over him to fit himself between Louis’ parted legs,
running a hand up his thigh until he reaches the top of his joggers.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis says a bit breathlessly. “Take it all off, please.”

Harry curls his fingers over his waistband, slowly easing his track pants and the rough mesh
texture of Louis’ work outfit down in one go, leaving him completely naked from the waist
down. He discards the clothing off to the side carelessly, turning back to kiss up the inside of
Louis’ thigh until he’s inches away from his crotch. He makes eye contact with Louis and
smirks before skirting around his cock, pressing his mouth to Louis’ belly to continue his
path upwards.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs into Louis’ skin, fingers lightly stroking the
outside of his bare leg.

“A– anything,” Louis stutters as Harry gently grazes his teeth over his skin. “Want to feel like
I'm yours and not theirs. Want your marks on me.”

Harry freezes, pulling back with his eyes wide. He quickly tugs on Louis’ mesh shirt until he
gets the hint and lifts up off the bed, allowing Harry to slide it off.

“If you're trusting me like this, I'm going to make this everything you've ever wanted," Harry
murmurs as he presses a soft kiss into Louis’ left pec, pulling back to trail his eyes over
Louis’ body unabashedly. "I'm going to take care of you.”

“I know you will. You always do.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling bubbles up in his chest, and Harry surges up to lick into Louis’ mouth,
effectively shutting himself up before words spill out of him that he's not ready to say.

Bracing a forearm next to Louis’ head, he lifts up to reach over to his nightstand to rummage
for a bottle of lube and a condom. He places them on the bed for easy access before kneeling
upright to quickly tug off his clothes.

Harry leans back down to languidly kiss Louis again. He slowly moves down to start
mouthing over Louis’ jaw, relishing in the sound of his soft pants as he skims his lips along
his neck.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs, continuing to trace a path down Louis’ body with his
mouth. “I could look at you forever and never get tired of the view,” he says as he returns
back to his spot between Louis’ parted thighs.

"Do you know why you don't belong to those men who pay to watch you at the club?"

Louis shakes his head.

"Because you don't choose to." He turns to the right and works on sucking a bruise into the
inside Louis' thigh. "Because they get to look at you, and touch your body, but they will
never have the parts of you that really matter."

"Harry," Louis whines as Harry switches to work on the other thigh.

"Because they don't deserve you. And I don't know if I do either, but sometimes it feels like I
could when you choose to look like this just for me."

Harry looks up, staring into Louis' awed expression. He lets the moment linger before
smirking, holding eye contact as he dips down to lick a broad stripe up Louis' cock.

“Fuck!” Louis yells, arching up off the bed at the contact. Harry moves a hand to hold him
down at his hip before repeating the action, licking from the base to the head before taking
him fully into his mouth.
He bobs his head up and down the length of his cock, taking Louis into his mouth fully as
he's spurred on by the sweet noises spilling from his lips. He only pulls off after Louis
reaches full hardness, reaching over to grab the lube and popping the cap off. He slicks up
three fingers and starts circling Louis’ hole with his index.

“Alright?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, and Harry pushes in.

Louis makes a choked off noise at the intrusion, tossing his head back into the pillow. Harry
works up to two then three fingers fairly quickly, remembering how worried Louis had been
the last time they did this, and makes sure to take his time.

Louis writhes in the sheets as his breathing goes heavy, but that’s not enough. Harry promised
to give him everything, and he’s going to deliver. He's determined not to stop until he makes
Louis completely fall apart.

Harry dips down to suck harshly on the head of Louis’ cock, teasing him to elicit that
gorgeous whimper that has become something precious to him. He continues pumping his
fingers in and out as he pulls off to take each of Louis’ balls into his mouth, giving them their
due attention before shifting his focus lower down.

The first swipe of his tongue over Louis’ rim has Louis kicking out his feet and arching up
into the air.

“Oh,” he chokes out softly, eyes squeezed shut as he shamelessly grinds down into the
contact. "Harry."

Harry takes the gesture as encouragement to keep going, working his tongue fully in next to
his fingers to slowly make Louis fall apart. He’s met with the mildly unpleasant taste of
flavorless lube, but the slight discomfort isn’t nearly enough for him to stop as he can feel
Louis’ toes curling into the bedsheets.

Louis’ breathy moans spill from his lips freely, filling the air and going straight to Harry’s
cock, and Harry almost thinks that he could get himself off just from the sounds. He wants to
hear more of them, so he crooks his fingers slightly to the right, making Louis’ eyes fly open
as he grinds down on his fingers with a gasp. Louis practically starts riding his face, pushing
down on Harry’s tongue and fingers with wild abandon.

“Can you give me two, darling?” Harry asks, continuously nudging his fingers against Louis’
prostate.

“Fuck,” Louis’ chest rises and falls with his heavy pants, “yeah. I think so.”

Harry grins up at him, chin slick with lube and spit as he ducks back down, putting relentless
pressure against Louis’ prostate while fucking his tongue in with fervor.

“Oh God,” Louis cries out, fisting his hands into Harry’s curls and tugging sharply, arching
up off the bed as he comes hard over the tight planes of his stomach.
“There you go, baby, you were so good,” Harry praises, lightly moving his fingers in and out
of Louis to work him through his orgasm. “You look so amazing like this, wish I could see it
all the time.”

Stroking a hand up and down Louis’ side while pressing kisses into his inner thighs, Harry
makes sure to be careful not to leave visible marks, despite the temptation to bite down into
the muscle.

Once Louis has sufficiently come down, he reaches a hand out and circles it around Harry’s
wrist, tugging on it desperately.

“Need you in me now, Harry, please,” he begs, voice wrecked from his earlier cries. Harry
hurries to comply.

He grabs the condom from the side of the bed, struggling with the packet with his slick
fingers. He eventually gets it open, rolling the condom onto his achingly hard cock and
slicking himself up generously.

“Can we do it like this? I want to see your face.”

Louis nods, looking up at him with his eyes shining, lashes fluttering when Harry braces
himself with his cock lined up against Louis’ hole. They both hiss as the head breaches
Louis’ rim, and Harry holds himself back from shoving in harshly into the tight heat. He
eases his way in, taking note of every noise that falls from Louis’ lips, cataloging every
change of expression.

Louis is breathing heavily when Harry finally bottoms out, and Harry reaches a hand out to
brush his sweaty fringe away from his forehead.

“You ready?”

Louis bites his lip and nods. Harry starts rocking into him with slow, deep thrusts, making
sure Louis feels every inch of his cock before gradually increasing his pace.

Louis is still biting his lip harshly, attempting to keep the sounds in. He’s still holding himself
back, always holding something back. Harry swipes a thumb over his mouth, gently tugging
his bottom lip out from under his teeth.

“Let it out, Lou,” he says gently, even as he doesn’t let up on his brutal pace. “Let it all go.
“You make the prettiest sounds when you’re like this, please don’t hide them from me.”

With that, Harry changes his angle, hitting Louis’ prostate dead on. Louis arches his back into
the air, crying out.

“Oh God, Harry.”

Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, pulling him in by pressing his heels into his back
even as his fingers scramble for purchase against the sheets.
“Love your cock,” Louis slurs out as he gasps for breath. “Fills me up so well, feels
amazing.”

Harry fits a hand under Louis’ thigh, hitching his leg up a bit higher to deepen the angle,
continuing to thrust in as he lets the soft moans falling from Louis’ lips wash over him.

“Are you close, baby?” Harry pants out, his muscles starting to fatigue from maintaining the
force of his thrusts for so long.

“Yes, just a bit more– oh, fuck, Harry.”

Harry has never heard his name coming from such a sweet voice, and he feels that familiar
heat start to curl low in his belly.

He needs Louis to get there first.

Removing his hand from where it’s wrapped around Louis’ thigh, he slowly slides his hand
up Louis’ torso until it’s resting over his chest. He strokes his hand over Louis’ nipple,
tweaking it right as he aims a well-aimed thrust to his prostate. He watches with awe as
Louis’ eyebrows pull together, eyes squeezing shut and mouth parting as he comes on a silent
moan.

Harry pulls out quickly as soon as Louis stops coming, not wanting to test the limits of his
sensitivity after two orgasms. Ripping the condom off his cock, he walks forward on his
knees and positions himself over Louis as he furiously jerks himself off, throwing his head
back and groaning as he adds to the mess on Louis’ torso.

Harry braces himself with a hand on the bed next to Louis’ head, breathing heavily as he
waits until he’s coherent enough to move again. He looks into Louis’ eyes, breath catching in
his throat at the way his eyes shine back at him so clearly, how his red-bitten lips frame a soft
smile.

Not being able to help himself, Harry dips back down for one last kiss before pulling off
entirely. That feeling washes over him again, the one that he’s been experiencing a lot lately
whenever he’s been in Louis’ presence. It's the sensation of dancing at the edge of a
precipice: one false step, the smallest shift in the atmosphere ready to send him over the edge.
The difference is, he knows what the feeling means this time. He knows he’s in deep, head
over heels with someone whose feelings may not be reciprocated.

He doesn’t know if Louis will be there to catch him if he falls.

“I’ll be right back,” Harry whispers, “just have to get something to clean you up.”

He can’t hold back his smug smile as he takes in the mess on Louis’ stomach again, giggling
when Louis unsuccessfully attempts to knee him in his thigh.

He quickly returns from the en suite with a towel, gently swiping over Louis’ stomach until
he’s clean from all visible traces.
Harry risks a glance at Louis’ face, breath catching in his throat at the way Louis smiles at
him so gratefully. He reaches a hand out to cup Louis’ cheek, feeling his heart pound in his
chest when Louis leans into it, pressing a light kiss into his palm.

“Was that good for you, baby?”

Louis looks up at him, those incredibly blue eyes unyielding as they don’t shield the emotion
behind them for what feels like the first time since Harry has known him. He’s earnest, and
open, and wraps a small hand around Harry’s wrist before he speaks.

“It was amazing, but I knew it would be with you. It always is. Thank you.”

Harry kisses him in lieu of a response, not trusting himself to keep in the words swirling
through his mind if he speaks. He hopes he can impart a sliver of what he’s feeling as he
gently moves his mouth against Louis’.

The two of them stare at each other for a beat after pulling away, neither of them moving
until Louis’ brows furrow suddenly, his face falling slightly.

“Sorry, do you want me to– should I go?” He asks a bit nervously as he fidgets, making to get
up.

“No,” Harry says adamantly, grabbing onto Louis’ ankle to hold him to the mattress. “Stay.”

Louis bites down a pleased smile, nodding once as he scoots over to make room for Harry on
the bed.

Harry crawls in behind him. He starts wrapping himself around Louis’ back but stops when
Louis’ lets out a grunt of disapproval. Shoving at his arm lightly, Louis signals for him to turn
over onto his other side.

Harry huffs out a laugh as he complies, letting Louis fit himself around his back, clinging
onto him as he buries his nose into Harry’s shoulder.

Harry remains wide awake, heart pounding with the emotions swirling through his chest.
They’re worsened by the feeling of his boy so close to him, holding him almost protectively.

Finally letting his eyes flutter shut, Harry’s ready to lose himself to the throes of sleep when
Louis speaks up behind him.

“Tonight meant a lot to me, you know,” he says softly, almost as if he’s not meaning for
Harry to hear it. “I know you think I don’t trust you because I don’t tell you everything that’s
going on with me, but I trust you more than almost everyone I know. Tonight didn’t mean a
lot to me just because it was the best I ever had, but also because it was like that with you.”

Harry slowly turns the words over in his mind, reeling at what they could possibly mean. He
feels the sudden press of lips to the skin of his shoulder as Louis subconsciously burrows
closer to Harry, and that’s all it takes. The false step, the light breeze that causes him to lose
his balance. His feet slide out from under him as he tumbles over the edge, but there’s
nothing to catch him.
Harry falls.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·
 Chapter 4

Louis wraps his fingers around the lip of the vanity as he stares into the mirror, gripping it
tightly to prevent his fingers from shaking. His eyes travel over every inch of his
meticulously styled hair and painstakingly set stage makeup, checking for the dozenth time to
ensure that nothing looks out of place.

The day crept up on him faster than he expected. He almost can’t believe that his final drama
performance in college starts in less than an hour. He’s rehearsed for months, practically
knowing Joey’s lines better than his own name, but it doesn’t prevent the trickle of
apprehension from seeping into his bones.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Louis closes his eyes and leans back. He ignores the strand of
hair that always seems to be out of place and pushes away thoughts that his face could use an
additional layer of powder. He knows that no matter how many adjustments are made, he will
always find something to criticize.

A light knock startles him before the door swings open a few inches, and Harry’s head pokes
through the opening. Louis' heart skips a beat as he sweeps his eyes down Harry's
spectacularly dressed body through the mirror, even as he's a bit at a loss of how to deal with
him. He's still not quite sure where they stand.

“Hey,” Harry says gently, slipping into the room and shutting the door quietly. “Thought I’d
come check in on you before we go on.”

“Really?”

“No, I actually wanted to see if you were up for a quick blowie before we have to go on
stage,” Harry grins.

Louis snorts, dropping his gaze to the floor. “The whole professor look is really doing it for
you, then?”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows as he steps towards him. “You're unlocking one of my deepest
fantasies right now, Lou. You wouldn't believe what I would do if I had you in bed in those
corduroy pants and spectacles.”

Louis huffs out a surprised laugh, lightly shoving at Harry’s chest in reprimand as he feels the
nerves drain from his body.

“You are so fucking annoying,” he rolls his eyes, flushing at the soft smile on Harry’s face as
he recovers.

“Feeling a bit better?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, swallowing as his heart rate and breathing finally start to even
out. “Thank you.”
Harry reaches his hand up to Louis’ face, stopping before he makes contact to not smudge
Louis’ makeup. Dropping his hand to Louis' shoulder, he slowly thumbs over it in soothing
circles.

“Not that you give a shit about my opinions, but you’re going to be so amazing up there,”
Harry says. “I almost wish I could skip out on the play and be in the audience, just so I could
watch you perform.”

Louis lets out a sharp laugh, not able to hold back the inappropriate reaction, because he still
has no idea how Harry knows exactly what to say to prevent him from spiraling in any
situation. He has no idea what to do with the way his heart flutters in his chest, wanting to
keep Harry's words as a comfort to him forever.

“Thank you,” he says as earnestly as he can. He tries and fails to keep his voice from
wobbling as his throat tightens. “And I do care about what you think, you know. I have for a
long time.”

Louis smiles sheepishly. “It’s crazy how worried I was about you playing the lead in this
performance, even a couple months ago. Don’t think I ever would have imagined standing
here knowing how wrong I was.”

Harry starts to protest, but Louis cuts him off, knowing what he was going to say.

“I know the value I bring to the production, Harry. It’s easy to identify because it’s so
tangible. But you’re the one who really brings it to life, and I can’t imagine what everything
would look like without you front and center.”

Louis resists the temptation to avert his eyes.

“Thanks for everything, really, Harry, but I do like to spend the last few minutes alone before
the show, so…” Louis trails off.

“I know. I’ve heard your little pre-show ritual through the walls before,” Harry says with a
lopsided grin. “I only planned to pop in for two minutes to make sure you weren’t psyching
yourself out too much.”

Harry steps back to walk away, opening the door as quietly as possible before stopping,
turning to face him.

“You’re wrong, you know. You may not have always brought the most emotion into your
performance, but you’ve done it so well recently, and it’s incredible to watch. Whatever was
stopping you from truly expressing yourself before, I don’t think it was a limitation of your
ability at all.”

He gives Louis a small smile before leaving, leaving Louis alone with his heart pounding in
his chest.

+
A bead of sweat slowly drips down Louis’ forehead, but he ignores the way it tickles his
temple as he holds his final pose for three, two, one. The curtains finish closing, Louis' heart
hammering in his chest as he finally drops his hands. It’s quickly drowned out by thunderous
applause, and the sounds of hundreds of people rising to their feet. Louis instinctively looks
to Harry, letting a smile stretch over his expression upon seeing Harry’s breathless grin. They
share a brief moment before Liam is unceremoniously rushing them backstage to line up for
their curtain call.

When Harry and Louis go out to take their bows, Harry lifts their joint hands to their lips and
presses a soft kiss to Louis' knuckle, and Louis swears that the emotion reflected in his eyes
is the same one that shines out of his own.

Louis’ heart is still pounding as he races backstage, but realizes with a beat of disappointment
when he barges through the door that everyone has already trickled out into the main lobby to
greet their family and friends. Craning his neck, he thinks he sees Zayn standing towards the
back but not caring in the slightest as he desperately searches for a familiar head of curly hair.

His heart flutters when he finally spots him, but immediately sinks upon taking in the three
figures surrounding him.

Tom has a lazy arm slung over Harry’s shoulder, showing him something on his phone screen
that has Harry’s dimple making an appearance as he throws his head back and laughs.

Louis furrows his eyebrows. He was sure he hadn’t hallucinated Harry saying that he and
Tom weren’t really speaking, a fact that had Louis secretly relieved. He had never liked the
other boy’s attitude or the leering looks he got from him, and it had been a relief when Harry
said he wanted nothing to do with him. He feels a flash of doubt go through him after seeing
the easy way that Harry talks to him even now.

He doesn’t have time to ponder Harry’s apparent reunion with Tom as he’s startled by a tap
on his shoulder. He turns around to a series of familiar faces, smiling at him with grandiose
bouquets in their hands. Putting on his practiced smile, Louis thanks them warmly as he
collects their praises and their gifts. It takes a good twenty minutes for the last of them trickle
out, and Louis sighs with relief when he spots Zayn grinning broadly with a bag of popcorn
in his hand.

“Congrats, Lou,” he shouts over the din. Louis lets himself be swallowed up in his embrace,
careful not to let the bouquets in his arms get crushed. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks, babe,” he shouts back, before regarding the popcorn bag with a raised eyebrow.

“Popcorn?”

Zayn shrugs. “Figured you’d be getting flowers from a lot of other people and I didn’t want
to add to the mess in our apartment. Your boy said you really like the truffle oil popcorn from
this place, so I got some instead of flowers.”
“He’s not my boy,” Louis grumbles.

“Okay,” Zayn says, sounding entirely unconvinced but breezing past it. “How long do we
have to stay here before we can head to the afterparty?”

Louis lets out a laugh. “You’ve been avoiding meeting my theater friends for four years, and
all it took was drinks on someone else’s tab to change your mind?”

“You never told me the drinks were free, Lou. I would have joined in a lot more if I knew.”

“I always told you that there was an open bar at these things, you probably just stopped
listening as soon as I said it was a drama event.”

“Fair play.”

Louis rolls his eyes, before sighing. “We should probably head out. It’s going to take us
longer to get there than everyone else since we have to take the subway. Also, if we leave
now no one will see us get on the line.”

Zayn snorts. “I’m not going to lie. I was kind of expecting your boy to be a gentleman and
include us in his fancy car service so we wouldn’t have to walk.”

Louis sighs. He was half expecting such an offer himself, since Harry had been consistently
offering every time they all went somewhere together. But Harry isn’t obligated, and he may
want to spend some time with his other friends.

“I think he’s a bit busy,” Louis says, ignoring Zayn once again referring to Harry as ‘his boy.’
His eyes find Harry once again, where he still stands with Tom, Dylan, and Niall flanking
him. “And you should really stop getting used to Harry doing us favors, you know. He’s been
really great without asking for anything back, stop expecting it from him.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow as his lips twitch upwards. “I was only joking, Lou. You don’t need
to defend his honor. I’m just as good taking the subway.”

Louis flushes slightly and ducks his head.

“All right, let me just grab my things, then we can go.”

The afterparty is at another swanky, dimly lit club with VIP booths and barely clothed bottle
service staff, the kind of place that will always send a prickle of apprehension and discomfort
up Louis’ spine.

Despite the slight head start they had, he and Zayn arrive after most people have already
gathered in the series of booths that they had booked out ahead of time. The tables are
already laden with bottles of champagne in ice buckets, and rows of shot glasses containing
an unidentifiable liquor.
Louis quickly spots Niall facing in their direction in one of the booths. He cranes his neck
until he sees Harry’s tattooed arm peeking out across from him, so he captures Zayn’s
attention before gesturing in their direction as they both walk over.

Harry and Niall aren’t alone. Louis swallows down the sinking feeling when he sees Tom
sprawled out next to Niall, while Dylan is in the booth next to Harry.

“Hey,” Louis says as they arrive at the table. “Got room for two more?”

He smiles, directing the question at Harry but is quickly put off when Harry looks back at
him uncomfortably. When he eventually gets a response, it’s not Harry who answers.

“Tomlinson,” Tom drawls from his corner of the booth, grinning at Louis with a glint in his
eye that immediately puts him on edge. The way he unabashedly drags his eyes up and down
Louis’ body worsens the feeling, and Louis suddenly feels very off-kilter. “Have a seat
anywhere you like, darling. Don’t feel like you’re only limited to the open spots.” He pats his
thigh to drive home the implication, and Louis’ skin crawls.

Harry whips his head around to glare at his friend. “Tom,” he warns dangerously, while Louis
lets out a vague indignant sound as words refuse to form. Zayn has gone still by his side, as
Niall turns in his seat to regard Tom with a disapproving frown.

Tom, for his part, just rolls his eyes and puts his hands up placatingly.

“I’m just playing around, no need to get like that. Doubt it’s the worst he’s heard, anyway.”

“At least in a place like this,” Dylan chimes in, also leering at Louis uncomfortably.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Harry spits out, finally making to get up from the table. Niall quickly
follows suit. “You two can go fuck yourselves.” He turns to Louis apologetically. “I’m so
sorry, Lou, you shouldn’t have to listen to this.”

“Stop trying to protect his virtue,” Tom continues easily, ignoring the crackling tension and
anger surrounding him from all sides. “We all know our lovely Louis here isn’t as innocent as
he seems.”

Louis feels his heart stop, panic slamming into him. Harry grabs onto his hand and tugs
sharply.

“Louis, let’s go,” he says urgently, but Louis is rooted to the spot.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Louis means to be demanding, but he just sounds
frantic.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Tom grins, pulling out his phone and turning the screen to
face the rest of them.

It’s a low quality, shaky video, likely as a result of it having to be taken surreptitiously, but
it’s clear enough to make out everything being filmed. Louis’ heart drops to his stomach as
he takes in the familiar setting, the familiar golden cage and the all-too-recognizable body
sliding a hand down the pole, back to the audience.

What catches his attention the most is the outfit he's wearing. Because even though his mind
has glossed over with shock, Louis recognizes the mesh fabric, the same one that Harry had
carefully stripped him out of when he took him to bed less than a week ago.

Bile rises in the back of his throat as he remains unmoving, mind frantic as he desperately
figures out how to salvage the situation, how this could have come about from anything other
than an utter betrayal.

“You expect me to believe that calling him darling is a big deal when this is what he’s doing
every night? I thought it would be a step up for him, being treated all gentleman-like.”

Dylan snickers at the recording like it's all just one big joke. “Take it as a compliment, you
look like a dream up there. Any chance you do private sessions?” He locks eyes with Louis
as he raises his glass in a mocking toast.

“No, I don’t think so,” Tom drawls. “Something like this deserves to be seen by the masses,
don’t you think?”

Louis feels the uncomfortable prickle of humiliation running through his entire body,
crawling all the way up until he feels tears prick behind his eyelids. His hands go damp and
clammy as an overwhelming feeling of nausea slams into him.

The sweat gathering on his palms makes him suddenly aware of the fact that Harry is still
holding his hand, and Louis quickly pulls it out of his grasp.

"You-" Louis starts, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "You knew?"

Harry says nothing. When Louis finally flicks his eyes up from the floor, Harry is frozen in
place, eyes wide with guilt.

It's enough of an answer.

Harry opens his mouth to say something, and that jolts Louis into action. He turns away, not
the least bit interested in hearing whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth.

No one stops him, and Louis has a series of near collisions as he makes it to the exit. He
mutters an “excuse me” every time he knocks into someone. His vision blurs with tears as he
finally bursts through the door, his hands shaking as he presses them to his mouth, trying to
stave off the inevitable breakdown.

Louis looks around helplessly at the throng of people scattered along the sidewalk, not
knowing which way to turn to make it home. His mind and heart are at war, one side insists
that the situation could not have taken place without Harry having a hand in it, and his heart
fights back against logic saying that the kind, sweet boy that had only ever tried to show
Louis his worth would never let him go through that.
Despite wanting to trust his mind and make a clean break, he can't shake the hope that he's
somehow gotten it all wrong. Louis' heart treacherously reasons that there may be more to the
story that he doesn’t know about, that Harry may have an explanation for all this. The boy
Louis knows would follow him out the door right away, whispering apologies and explaining
away every bit of worry plaguing Louis' mind.

Louis inhales shakily, deciding to give him one last chance.

He exhales sharply, trying to regulate his heart rate as he turns to face the building, putting
his heart out on the line as he gives Harry time to show.

Seconds tick past, which quickly turn into minutes. Louis has no idea how much time he
spends alone in the sticky night air, but he knows that it was enough.

Harry doesn’t come.

The clock nears five in the morning and Louis is still staring at the ceiling. He’s long given
up on being able to fall into the temporary reprieve of slumber, his eyes burning with tears
that are no longer able to fall.

Zayn had come back to the apartment just ten minutes after him, but Louis had pushed away
any attempts to console him, wanting to wallow alone and shut himself off from the world for
as long as possible.

His mind is his worst enemy, drumming up increasingly painful scenarios to fill in the gaps of
what happened. While Harry had frequently complained saying otherwise, Louis knew that
he had shared so much of himself with him. A level of intimacy that he hadn't had with
anyone else, the nature of his life's circumstances preventing him from allowing anyone that
close. Louis' not sure if it's a harsh truth or the sadistic workings of his own mind, but he
questions if the way Harry had slowly built him up over the months they'd spent together had
just been a ploy to make this moment destroy him that much more. A lethal retribution for
Louis' past transgressions, no matter how much he tried to rectify them.

The downward spiral doesn’t last long, as he’s jolted out of his trance by a harsh, incessant
banging on his front door at five in the morning.

“Louis!” Harry’s voice calls out frantically.

Louis shoots into a sitting position as he stares at his bedroom door, eyes wide.

There’s a brief pause. Silence cuts through to replace the relentless noise, before Harry starts
up again. The banging echoes through the entire apartment, and Louis scrambles to get to the
front door before Harry wakes up the whole goddamn building.

When he opens his bedroom door, he spots Zayn already up, hair disheveled and expression
murderous as he storms over to the front door.
“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He practically growls, and the banging
ceases instantly.

“Zayn, you have to let me in, please, I need to talk to Lou. Please.” The desperation in
Harry's voice sends a shiver up Louis’ spine.

“You think I’m letting you get anywhere near him right now?”

“I know what you’re thinking, and I promise it wasn’t like that, I swear.”

“What was it like, then? Don’t think I saw much that was up to interpretation, mate.”

“I need to talk to Lou. I need to explain everything to him.”

Louis slowly pads out of his room to the entryway, placing a light hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?” Zayn’s eyes search Louis’ face.

“Yeah. Please go back to sleep, if you can.”

Zayn nods at him once, before turning back to the door with a scowl. “Louis’ here. Have it
your way, you piece of shit.”

Stalking off down the hallway, he leaves Harry and Louis alone with nothing but a panel of
wood in between them.

“Louis?” Harry asks tentatively after a beat of silence.

“Did you know?”

He can hear Harry’s labored inhale through the door. “I didn’t know they recorded you,
Louis, I would never–”

“Did you know that they knew?” Louis interrupts, heart pounding. “Did you fucking tell
them?”

“I didn’t tell them, I swear to you, but I– I knew. I knew that they knew. We were all together
when we found out,” he finally admits.

Louis thinks back to Harry relentlessly teasing him all the way back in January, and feels his
stomach drop.

“Harry, that was months ago.” He’s given up any pretense of staying collected, his voice
wobbling.

“God, I know Louis, and I am so, so sorry. I really thought I could–”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, so many times.” Harry pleads, speaking faster than Louis’ ever heard him in his
life. “But you already had so much to worry about. I didn’t want to put more on your plate,
and I figured there was nothing you could do–”

“Nothing I could do?” His tone is too harsh, and Louis knows that cutting Harry off so many
times might be counterproductive. He can't find it within himself to care. “I could have given
their names to the club owner and gotten them banned, I could have asked security to tighten
up on the no filming rule. I could have done something to protect myself, you complete
dick!”

“Fuck, Louis, I know. I know it’s no excuse but I genuinely thought I had it handled.”

Louis laughs bitterly, tempted to open the door just so he can scream in Harry’s face. The
sting of betrayal becomes so much sharper with every paltry excuse that falls from Harry's
lips.

“Yeah, somehow you doing the right thing included publicly humiliating me, and potentially
ruining my life?”

Louis’ voice raises in pitch and volume as the words tumble out, heart pounding. He had
been so distraught about Harry’s role in everything that he hadn’t taken the proper time to
consider just how much trouble he could be in, and feels the remnants of panic flare up in his
chest as the realization sinks in.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says again, voice breaking, but the words feel empty. “But it won’t ruin
your life. It’s all taken care of.”

Louis doesn’t have a clue about what he’s talking about, but he does know that he doesn’t
want to hear any of this any longer.

“Why are you still here?” He demands suddenly, fear and hurt giving way to anger, because
it’s so much easier. “Get the fuck away from my door.”

“Louis, please,” Harry begs.

“I need you to go."

Harry makes a wounded noise that Louis dutifully ignores. He hears scuffling outside, a
movement he can't identify.

"You're scared," Harry says, much more softly. "I know you're scared. Let me at least take
that off your shoulders, Lou. You don't have to listen to anything else I have to say, but the
videos are gone. Let me explain everything to you so you can rest easy, my love, and I'll
leave after that if you need me to."

Louis sighs, wiping tears away from under his eyes. "You promise they're gone?"

"I promise."

"And you'll leave after explaining everything if I want you to go?"

"I'll do everything you ask of me. I'll leave as soon as I displease you in any way."

"If that were true you would be gone right now," Louis grumbles, but hesitantly reaches for
the lock. He slowly pulls open the door, watching Harry appear in the entrance, hair wild and
eyes frantic.

"Hi," Harry breathes, lips red from where he's worrying them with his teeth. "Can I come in?"

Louis just steps back and opens the door wider, and Harry hurries in before he has the chance
to change his mind.

"Start talking," Louis says as he locks up again, turning around to face him. He flicks on the
living room light and puts the dimmer on low, not quite ready to see Harry in his full glory.
"Remember that as soon as you say anything I don't like, you're leaving."

"Okay," Harry breathes out, nodding resolutely to himself. "Where do you want me to start?"

Crossing his arms, Louis leans back against the door and levels Harry with a stare that he
hopes is threatening.

"It's probably best to start with why I just had to watch an illegal video of myself pole
dancing in a room full of all my friends."

Harry winces, sucking in a sharp breath. "I don't know exactly why that happened, Lou. I was
only kept in the loop about their plans early on, and even then all I wanted to do was mess
with you a little bit. I know Tom and Dylan have been wanting to get back at you for a while
now, but for what I'm still not fully clear on."

"Tom," Louis murmurs quietly. "I worked on a project with him in school and he kept hitting
on me to the point that I was uncomfortable. Didn't seem to take it well when I kept telling
him no."

Harry's jaw clenches as his hands ball into fists. "He did what?" He grits out.

"Don't get distracted," Louis says sharply. "You have no right to be angry with him right now.
He's a piece of shit, but I expected it from him. I want to hear what you have to say for
yourself. Even if you weren't involved, why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Right," Harry says uncertainly, face dropping, but the remnants of anger still linger on his
expression. "I thought I was doing right by you, Lou, you already had so much you were
dealing with. I thought the whole situation was out of your control, and that the best I could
do for you would be to take this on so you wouldn't have to. I know now that it was
shortsighted and stupid, and it isn’t my decision to keep stuff like that from you."

Louis feels tears start to form in his eyes, because he so badly wants to believe him. This
sounds more like the Harry he knows, a bit foolish and unprepared for the harsh realities of
the real world, but always kind, always attentive to what was best for Louis.

Harry steps forward instinctively, but Louis glares at him hard enough that he stops in his
tracks. He holds his hands up in surrender, but risks another step forward.
"I won't lie to you anymore," Harry whispers. "Part of me thought I was doing the right thing,
but I was also selfish. I didn't want you to hate me again, and things between us were so
uncertain even at the best of times. Every time I was close to telling you, I was so incredibly
afraid of your reaction that it paralyzed me. I should have never put that over what you had at
stake, and I'm going to regret that forever."

Louis stares at the ground, the tears starting to blur his vision.

"Why didn't you come find me and tell me this right after I ran out of the club tonight? I
waited for you outside, for so long. You never showed."

The first tears in Harry's eyes start to spill over. "I wanted to. There was nothing I wanted
more than to run after you today and try and make it all right."

"Then why the hell didn't you?" Louis snaps. "I'm hearing a lot of shit about you wanting to
do the right thing, but you never actually did it, did you?"

Harry averts his eyes, nodding once like he knows he deserves it.

"I wanted to go after you," he repeats, "but I figured that my being selfish got you to this
point. Even though everything in me wanted to go and comfort you, that still would have
been selfish, because I would have wanted to clear my name. I really fucked up by not
protecting you the way I should have before, and I knew I had to do the right thing and keep
you safe. So I stayed back and took care of the videos before I even thought about coming to
you. They're gone, Lou. They don't exist anymore, and Tom and Dylan are now legally bound
to never speak a word of this."

Louis takes a shaky breath, something in him breaking as his shoulders slumping with relief.
He was going to be okay. Even if his heart never recovers from this, Harry made sure that he
would be kept safe.

"Okay," Louis says finally.

"Okay?"

"I get why you did it. All of it. Maybe I'm an idiot, but I believe you. This sounds a lot more
like you than whatever stories I was making up in my head."

Harry lets out a sad half smile, biting down on his lip nervously again.

"There's one thing I still don't understand, though," Louis continues. "Why were you that
scared of how I would react? Even if I did get pissed at you for telling me about this whole
mess, we still could have found a way to make our dynamic work onstage without liking each
other."

Harry chuckles, and Louis would yell at him for it if not for the way it’s tinged with
bitterness rather than amusement. “Louis, I didn’t give a shit about the play.”

Harry’s eyes widen as Louis’ narrow, and he quickly holds his hands up placatingly.
“Not that l didn’t care about the play in general. It’s just that when we decided to start getting
along, there wasn’t a single point where I was doing it for the sake of our play.”

“What? Then why the fuck were you so hellbent on us being friends?”

Harry looks at him with a rueful smile. “Louis, you know that I’ve always liked you, right?”

Louis stares at him. “What.”

Harry sighs. “Apparently not.” A light blush appears on his cheeks. “I had a massive crush on
you when we first met. It was embarrassing, actually. You definitely started pissing me off
throughout the years, but the main reason I was so angry about it was because I only ever
wanted your approval. When I saw a chance to finally get to know you like I've always
wanted, I had to take it.”

Louis doesn't quite know what to say. Guilt starts to pool in his gut as the memories of his
harsh words are tinted with the knowledge that Harry liked him the whole time. It must be
showing on his face, because Harry starts shaking his head.

“Louis, no. I didn’t say any of that to turn this around and make you feel guilty. I don’t want
to distract from what I’ve done. I’m ready to own up to it, I only wanted to explain what was
going through my head.”

“I know, but I can’t help but think about–” Louis cuts himself off. “Since we first met?
Really?"

Harry nods sheepishly.

"I’m so sorry, Harry. I know I never treated you the way I should have but I didn’t realize
how fucked up it all was.”

Harry sighs, face falling slightly. “It’s okay, Louis. Really. I only told you so you would
understand why I was so afraid of losing you. It seemed like the best option to keep
everything a secret, because I thought I would be protecting you while also protecting
myself.”

Louis doesn't quite know what to make of that.

"Still," he mumbles awkwardly. "I like to think we got pretty close after a while. Don't know
why you were still so scared I'd fuck off if you'd told me then."

"Well, the possibility of losing someone is a lot scarier when you're in love with them."

Louis snaps his eyes up at that, desperately searching Harry's face for any sign that he
misheard him as his heart rate kicks up. Harry's cheeks are flaming, and he's chewing his lip
nervously.

He steps forward slowly, carefully watching Louis' face for any signs that he's unwelcome.
When Louis doesn't stop him, he steps up into his space, carefully taking Louis' hands into
his own.
The corner of his mouth quirks up sadly. “I know it makes what I did so much worse, but I
really, really love you, Louis. And I hope you can forgive me for all of this someday, but even
if you don’t, I just want you to know that.”

Louis stares down at their joint hands, the point of contact sending a warm, bubbly feeling
through him that he doesn't allow to reach his heart quite yet. “You, um,” he starts,
swallowing around the lump in his throat, “You love me?”

“Yeah,” Harry says softly, “So much, Lou, you have no idea. In a few short months you've
come to mean more to me than almost anyone else in my life, because you've just been that
incredible. You've made me so, so happy, my love.”

“I, um," Louis says, clearing his throat. "I might love you too. Maybe.”

He refuses to meet Harry's gaze for a few moments, but curiosity eventually gets the better of
him.

Harry looks back at him with a bitten-down smile, eyes shining.

"Yeah?" He asks, finally allowing the grin to break out across his face.

Louis' heart clenches in his chest. This is all he needed. He needed to know that Harry hadn't
betrayed him, that his feelings weren't one-sided. Harry had given him what he needed, and
had just told him that he loved him even when he knew Louis could have sent him away
afterwards without another thought.

Stepping forward, Louis moves his hands to circle around Harry’s neck, growing in
confidence when he hears the subtle hitch in Harry’s breath. Reaching his head up, Louis
slowly leans in as he presses his lips against Harry’s, ever so gently. Harry inhales sharply,
moving his hands down around Louis’ waist to hold him close, but doesn’t make to take
control of the kiss, letting Louis lead as he keeps it soft and light.

"I love you," Louis murmurs as he pulls away. "But you can't do this to me again."

Harry shakes his head emphatically. “Never. Never again, Lou. I know I'm not off the hook
for this. I'm going to put in the work to earn your trust back, and I’m only ever going to take
care of you from now on.”

"I promise I'll let you."

Harry lets out a dimpled grin, thumbing over Louis' fingers softly. “I need you to know that
I'm really serious about you. This isn't some end of college fling for me. I want to wake up
next to you every morning, follow you wherever you go. I want to make you listen to my
complaining about every trivial thing in my life after I’ve had a bad day, and I want to cook
your favorite dishes every night to make up for it. I want you when you're bratty, when you're
exhausted, when you're sweet, when you're happy, and everything in between. I just want
you.”
Louis lets out an awkward giggle as too much emotion threatens to overwhelm him again. “I
think that sounds like something I can do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. God knows I haven’t said it enough to you, but you mean the world to me. I want
everything with you, too.”

"Fuck," Harry chokes out, eyes welling up with tears for what feels like the dozenth time
today as he pulls Louis in close to his body and buries his nose into his neck.

"Can I kiss you again?" he mumbles into Louis' skin.

"Yeah," Louis breathes out, feeling the soft press of Harry's lips on his only a second later.

"You're so lovely, baby," Harry murmurs against his lips in between kisses. "I'm going to treat
you so well. If you're not happy, I'm not going to rest until I can change that for you."

Louis finally allows the turmoil of the day to melt away, basking in the feeling that things
have never felt more right.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

Being Harry's boyfriend is not entirely different than what he and Harry had before, and
Louis wonders for the first time if he'd been a bit oblivious all along. They still spend all their
time with each other most days of the week, taking turns staying at each other's houses for
study sessions and having movie nights with Niall and Zayn. They still find ways to tease
each other and drive each other mad, but it's lost the mean or uncertain edges that had created
rifts between them before.

The main difference is that they know exactly what they are now, and aren't afraid to let go
and give each other everything they were holding back. Louis finds out that Harry is even
more attentive and caring than before, when Harry sheepishly admits that he had only been
holding back because he didn't want to scare Louis off.

All in all, Harry is a wonderful boyfriend, but no relationship is perfect.

One of the difficulties with dating Harry is that Harry is very, very good-looking. It's not
usually a problem, and something that Louis generally appreciates.

Not when they're in public, however, and people fawn over his boyfriend right in front of his
face when Louis can't do a thing about it.

They're sitting at their assigned table at the rehearsal dinner of a family friend, another event
that both their parents had dragged them to. Louis hadn’t minded, despite the fact that he
knew he'd have to be on his best behavior. He spends his time leisurely admiring the way
Harry looks in his charcoal silk suit, mind drifting into space as he drags his eyes up and
down Harry's entire figure.

It's a much more worthwhile activity than listening to friends of the bride and groom drone
on and on about how in love the soon-to-be-wed couple was (Louis gives them a year, tops),
which is why it's extremely jarring to have his lovesick daydreaming interrupted by a young
man approaching their table as soon as the crowd is free to mingle.

"Hi, Harry," he says shyly, positioned far too close to where Harry remains seated in his chair.
The boy starts playing with the neckline of his silk blouse, slowly exposing more skin on his
shoulder while drawing attention to the expensive fabric. Louis himself is dressed in a simple
navy blazer with no shirt and a matching pair of tailored slacks, and he petulantly decides that
he looks much better in his outfit than whoever the fuck this is.

"Hey," Harry says, furrowing his brows in slight confusion. "James, right? It's been a while."

"Jamie," the boy corrects, smile faltering slightly. "I just wanted to say that I watched your
play a couple of weeks ago and I thought you were amazing," he gushes. "I couldn't quite
keep my eyes off you the whole time. But, to be honest, that wasn't just because of your
phenomenal acting skills."

Louis scoffs audibly. Jamie’s expression pinches with mild annoyance, while Harry's head
snaps over to him in surprise, eyes wide. He gets over his surprise quickly as he tracks Louis'
expression, slowly letting one corner of his lip curl up into a smirk.

Stance changing completely as he turns in his chair, Harry makes a concerted effort to lean
towards Jamie, dimple popping out in full force.

"Is that so?" He drawls. "What else was there to appreciate if not for my, as you so
wonderfully put it, phenomenal acting skills?"

Louis' tenses, curling his fingers into the fabric encasing his legs. He's about ready to drag
Harry away by the tie and read him the riot act before a large hand lands high on his thigh,
squeezing possessively just a few inches from his crotch. The smirk is still playing on Harry's
lips when Louis chances a look at him.

The bastard is enjoying this.

"I'm sure you know what I'm getting at," Jamie says back, growing in confidence upon
Harry's reaction. "You have to be aware of your effect on people."

Louis' officially in danger of popping a vein, but there’s not a chance in hell he's going to let
Harry get away with it. Before Harry can say whatever bullshit to keep encouraging Jamie’s
embarrassing behavior, Louis reaches under the table to palm over Harry's crotch, bypassing
any subtlety or foreplay.

"Shit," Harry curses, throwing his head back and groaning.

"What's that?" Jamie furrows his eyebrows.

"Sorry," Harry grits out, while Louis ever so lightly brushes the backs of his knuckles along
the length of Harry's cock. "I just realized why I got your name wrong. You used to be called
James by our teachers at school, didn't you?"

"Yes!" Jamie beams, relief clear on his face. "It's really only the older folk that call me that,
but Jamie is what I go by to most people."

Harry nods stiffly, putting an elbow up on the table and pressing a hand tightly against his
mouth.

"Anyway," Jamie says after a beat when Harry doesn't respond, fluttering his eyelashes
subtly. "I was wondering if you were up for a dance with me right now. I heard the string
quartet will be playing a slow song next, and I'd love for you to be my partner."

Louis freezes, removing his hand completely from Harry's crotch and pulling it back into his
lap. He turns to Harry to try and signal to him that this is going too far, but Harry's already
leveling Jamie with a stare.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry says, not sounding particularly sorry at all as he turns away from
Jamie and takes one of Louis' hands. "But all of my slow dances tonight belong to my
incredibly beautiful boyfriend. Not available for anyone else, I'm afraid."

He lifts their joint hands to his lips and gives Louis a private smile. Louis doesn't blush.

"Of course, I understand," Jamie says courteously, turning red as he finally turns to
acknowledge Louis with a jerky nod. "I guess I'll see you both around."

"Bye, Jamie," Harry says dismissively, not bothering to spare him another glance as he
continues pressing kisses to Louis' fingers.

As soon as Jamie's left them alone, Louis rips his hand out of Harry's and turns away from
him pointedly.

"Don't know why you had to encourage him like that," he grumbles. "I was right here."

"I know," Harry says smugly. "You were jealous."

"I was not," Louis denies hotly. "I just think it was rude for you to play with his feelings like
that when you were going to turn him down anyway."

"You were jealous," Harry murmurs, leaning in closely until Louis can feel his breath tickling
his ear. "and I didn't lead him on all that much. He's the one who started hitting on me when
he knows I have a boyfriend, so I wasn't too concerned about his feelings when he
disrespected you like that. I couldn't resist the chance to get you all worked up, baby, it was
so sexy. You looked like you wanted to jump me right then, in front of all these people."

"And what if I did?" Louis snaps, a bit too harshly if only to cover the growing flush on his
cheeks.
Harry hums. "You know, you've caused a little problem for me, too. In public." He takes one
of Louis' hands and slowly presses it back against his crotch, while he leans in to lightly nip
at Louis' ear. "What do you think I should do about that?"

Harry is fully hard. They're sitting at a table in a ballroom full of people for a wedding
rehearsal dinner, and Harry is hard.

Louis closes his eyes, letting Harry's breath float over his skin as he feels the gentle press of
his lips against his ear.

"There's a janitor's closet," he breathes out as Harry slowly keeps moving Louis' hand over
his own cock. "You can deal with your issue there and also make it up to me for encouraging
someone else to flirt with you."

He can feel Harry smile against his ear as he finally pulls Louis' hand away from him.

"Lead the way then, if you're so eager," he teases, an unnecessary mockery of Louis' attitude
from the first time they slept together.

Louis stands up quickly, needing to get Harry naked and inside him in some way before he
goes completely mad. He tugs on Harry's hand to get him to follow, feeling a twinge of
satisfaction when he sees Harry grab a cloth napkin off the table, not so subtly holding it in
front of his crotch as they walk the perimeter of the ballroom.

"Can we go faster?" Harry practically whines out, quickly losing his composure. Naturally,
Louis slows down completely, until Harry's the one practically pushing him along one of the
back corridors until the closet door comes into view.

"You're driving me insane."

"It's what you deserve for letting someone else flirt with you right in front of me."

"You know as well as I do that it was all for your attention, my love. He never really had me."

One corner of Louis' mouth quirks up into a smirk. "I know. But no harm in you proving it to
me right now, is there?"

He opens the door of the janitor's closet, taking a moment to press his bum back into Harry's
crotch, smirking when he groans before pulling away and dragging Harry into the closet
behind him.

Harry moves the empty janitor's cart right under the door handle to block anyone else from
coming in. Louis is on him not a second later, pressing him into the wall while attacking his
mouth with biting kisses.

"I want you to fuck me," Louis gasps out when they come up for air.

Harry groans, reaching around to start palming at Louis' ass as he rests their foreheads
together. "I don't think we have the time or the space for that. I wish we did. I'd fuck you so
good, remind you that I belong to you," he says. "Can I eat you out instead? I've been dying
to get my mouth on this gorgeous bum of yours, lick you out until you cry."

"Oh God," Louis says instinctively against Harry's mouth. "Yes, please."

It's a bit of a struggle to get their positions flipped, Harry taking control as soon as they do.
Pressing Louis' chest into the wall, he slightly draws his hips back so Louis' ass juts out
slightly.

Wasting no time before getting on his knees, Harry reaches around Louis' waist to undo the
button on his slacks, pulling down his pants and underwear in one go. Louis hears Harry's
sharp inhale as soon as his bum is exposed to the air.

"This has got to be the most wonderful thing I have ever seen," he mumbles, before he's
spreading Louis' cheeks apart and diving right in.

"Oh," Louis breathes out as Harry licks right over his rim, gasping out at the sensation.

"Can't take my time," Harry says as he pulls back, sounding severely disappointed. "Someone
might come looking for us."

"Then you better get to work," Louis pants. "Unless you think you can't do your job with a
time limit."

Louis feels a light slap to his ass at that, and he pushes back to chase the contact.

"You know better than to question my abilities."

Harry's voice has gone low in that way that never fails to drive Louis wild, and he squeezes
his eyes shut as he presses his forehead into the wall to get some coolness on his skin.

"Prove it," Louis challenges. "You've been all talk today, why don't you prove it?"

He can feel Harry smile against the skin of his bum, as he gives the flesh a small nip before
spreading his cheeks apart again.

This time, he breaches Louis' rim immediately, wiggling his tongue all the way in while
Louis' fingers scramble for purchase against the wall. He pants heavily while Harry's tongue
explores inside of him, already knowing exactly what to do to make Louis slowly unravel.

Harry starts swirling his tongue inside him with fervor, until Louis is painfully hard and tears
are springing up in his eyes.

"Harry, please," Louis begs, needing some kind of release after all the back and forth teasing
from the last half hour.

"Are you going to forgive me?" Harry asks, pulling away with his mouth but continuing to
stimulate Louis' rim with his finger.
Louis was never truly upset with him, but he knows that drawing an apology is all part of the
game.

"No," Louis gasps out, even has entire body screams at him to give in.

Harry hums to himself, pulling his finger away to start licking into Louis again, this time
much more slowly.

"We don't have much time, my love," Harry says casually. "What if someone comes knocking
on the door, and we have to get up and leave before you've had the chance to come? Would
you be okay with that?"

"Fuck," Louis curses at the excruciating slowness of Harry's movements, feeling tears flow
down his face as he's so close yet so far from finding his release. "I forgive you," he cries out.
"I forgive you. Please, please."

"Hand around your cock, baby. You can get yourself off now." Louis swears he can feel
Harry smile against him as he buries his face back between his cheeks, licking hard and fast
as he brings Louis right to the brink.

Louis obeys, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking, practically sobbing as he
immediately finds his release, coming all over his hand.

Harry licks languidly at his taint while Louis comes down from his orgasm, before pulling
away entirely. Louis finds himself being spun around with Harry holding out the napkin he
had swiped from the dining table for Louis to wipe his hand off. Cleaning himself off quickly,
he buttons up his pants as his eyes catch on Harry's cock tenting the fabric of his slacks,
stretching it out obscenely.

It's almost instinctive the way Louis drops to his knees, fingers fumbling unsuccessfully at
Harry's belt. Harry takes pity on him in his post-orgasm haze, undoing his own belt and
pulling his cock out of his boxers, nearly hitting Louis in the face.

"Christ, this view is never going to get old for me," Harry mutters, cursing when Louis finally
wraps his lips around the head of his cock, taking the familiar weight into his mouth.

Louis moves up and down the length, making sure to flick his tongue over the head in the
way he knows Harry loves, feeling a satisfied thrill as Harry groans and lightly moves his
hips to thrust into his mouth.

"Almost there," Harry warns as he tangles his hand into the back of Louis' hair. Louis uses
that as encouragement to relax his throat and move as far down Harry's cock as he can,
licking a stripe down the length until Harry lets out a guttural moan, muscles tensing as he
spills into Louis' mouth.

Keeping his lips wrapped around the head of Harry's cock, Louis sucks him dry, waiting until
Harry hisses from sensitivity and pulls him off.
Louis stands up shakily. Harry grabs his face with both hands and starts licking into his
mouth, making Louis' spent cock give a feeble twitch. They finally come up for air, Harry
stroking over Louis' cheeks with his thumb while he presses their foreheads together.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Harry finally breathes out. "We can get some dinner on the
way home."

“We just had dinner.”

“Let me rephrase. Do you want to get dinner with food that doesn’t taste like someone was
trying to break a world record for how many expensive ingredients they can cram onto a
plate?”

Louis snorts. “Fair enough. You pick the place though, there's no way I'm coherent enough to
make any decisions right now.”

Harry grins wickedly. Louis has no choice but to pinch his nipple in retaliation.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

Their first fight happens not long after the wedding. Louis' getting ready to head to work,
beyond exhausted and irritable with his late nights at work and the threat of finals looming on
the horizon. He's struggling to keep up with his studying along with the increased demand for
his services at the club as the weather warms up, but bills need to be paid.

Harry's sitting on his bed watching him get dressed with a slightly pinched expression.

"What is it?" Louis asks sharply, glancing at his phone to quickly check the time.

Harry grimaces, but shakes his head. "It's nothing."

Louis rolls his eyes. "It doesn't look like nothing. We both know something's on your mind
right now, so spit it out so I don't have to stress about it at work."

Harry looks slightly guilty at that, and flicks his eyes up to meet Louis'.

"I wish you didn't have to go."

"I wish I didn't have to go either, my love. But it is what it is."

"But it doesn't have to be," Harry complains. "It's draining you, Louis, and you have other
options."

"Name one."
Louis watches Harry through the mirror in his closet as he buttons up his vest, carefully
cataloging the way Harry's throat bobs when he swallows.

"You know what I'm going to say."

"Then you know why that's not an option for me," Louis says dismissively.

"I know," Harry grits out. "But would it really be so terrible? If you let me help you out just a
little bit?"

Louis doesn't have the time or the patience to deal with this.

"There are ways you can help me, Harry. You can continue to be there for me and support me
through this, not make me feel guilty because I don't want to accept money from you.
You know why I can't do it."

Harry sits up straight, shaking his head emphatically. "I don't want you to feel guilty, Lou.
Please don't feel like this is your fault." He falters for a moment. "I just need you to know that
you always have me as an option."

Louis swallows, before glancing at the time again and cursing. "I can't do this right now," he
says, avoiding Harry's eye. "I'm going to be late."

The corners of Harry's mouth turn down. He quickly gets up from the bed, reaching out to
pull Louis into his chest. "I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to stress you out. I'll be outside at two
today to pick you up?"

He looks at Louis hopefully, as if Louis would have it in his heart to deny him over
something so small. He nods, pulling away and sidestepping Harry to grab his bag. "Text me
the license plate of the car when you get it."

Harry smiles, relieved, as he presses a last kiss to Louis' hand. "I'll see you soon."

Harry's acting strangely on the car ride home. A bizarre combination of barely contained
smiles and fidgeting fingers have Louis a bit on edge, when all he wants to do is melt into his
bed and have someone else take care of all his problems for a while.

Harry practically tugs Louis up the stairs when they reach his apartment, lightly bouncing on
his toes as he waits for Louis to unlock the front door.

Where he gets this kind of energy at two in the morning, Louis will never understand.

It suddenly makes sense when finishes fiddling with the lock and opens the door to take a
look around at his apartment.

The place has been transformed. All the stray clothes have been picked up off the floor, and
the dirty dishes cluttering various surfaces are nowhere to be seen. A lit candle sends the
aroma of lavender and vanilla into the air, and Louis suddenly feels the urge to cry.
"I was going to do a path of rose petals, but I thought I'd spare you the mess," Harry says
quietly.

"What is all this?" Louis breathes out before turning around to face him.

"An apology," Harry says with a halfhearted smile. "And also something nice for you since
you've had such a rough week."

"Harry-" Louis starts, feeling his composure melt as he starts to tear up.

"It's okay," Harry whispers. "I drew you a bath with some essential oils, but we can also go to
bed right now if you're tired."

Louis shakes his head. "No, no. I'd really like that bath, I think."

Harry looks pleased, reaching out to take Louis' hand and lead him down the hallway.

"Just through here," he murmurs, and Louis actually does start crying when he's led through
the bathroom door.

His bathtub is filled with water that's been tinted pink, with little rose petals and cherry
blossoms floating on the surface. There are lit vanilla candles on the edge of the tub, filling
the air with a calming, sweet floral scent. A fluffy robe with a matching pair of slippers have
been laid out on the counter near the door, and Louis feels himself bursting at the seams with
the torrent of emotions clashing inside him.

"Harry, this is-" he swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. "Thank you."

He turns around just in time to see Harry's nervously bitten lips melt into a soft smile. He
walks over and throws his arms around Harry's shoulders, going up on his toes to cling onto
him.

"You always know exactly what I need, my love," Louis murmurs quietly, turning his nose
into Harry's neck to breathe him in. "Will you stay with me?"

"Always," Harry says immediately. "Why don't you get in, and I'll start a load of your laundry
and come right back."

Louis has already made himself comfortable in the water when Harry returns, sitting with his
knees bent and his head tilted back against the lip of the tub. Harry takes a seat on the floor of
the bathroom next to the tub, leaning against the counter so he's facing Louis.

"All good?"

"Just what I needed," Louis sighs, trying to will away the guilt that's prickling his insides, but
it doesn't work. "I'm sorry."

Harry furrows his brows. "For what?"

Louis swallows. "For making you feel like you had to do this. For not being able to do nearly
as much in return."

"Louis, I didn't do this because I thought you were forcing my hand. I saw a way that I could
help you out, and I wanted to do it for you. That's all."

The knot in Louis' chest loosens, but it doesn't escape his attention that Harry didn't address
the second issue. Was Harry looking for more from him? Because Louis was doing his best,
but when he was still struggling through school and his job with his limited income, it was
hard for him to do everything for Harry that he wished he could.

"Remember when you surprised me with that picnic at Central Park last week after I got that
job interview?" Harry's voice suddenly breaks through his swirling thoughts.

Louis does remember. He had put a lot of effort into it but the results were less-than-stellar,
fifteen-dollar wine and deli sandwiches all he was able to drum up for them to eat.

"Yeah. I remember. It was shitty and cheap and I wish I had done better."

Harry frowns. "Fine. It didn't cost a lot of money. But I also know you walked twenty extra
minutes both ways to Mario's deli instead of getting sandwiches from the corner store
because you know I love the pastrami there. The wine wasn't expensive, but I know you got
the twenty-dollar bottle instead of the ten-dollar one because you know I hate the mascot on
the cheap wine."

Harry bites his lip, slowly tracing circles over Louis' knee that's sticking out of the water. "Do
you know how special I felt that day? Spending hundreds of dollars on a lunch wouldn't have
changed that, Lou. I truly felt like you cared about me, knowing how much thought and effort
you put into celebrating my accomplishments even though you're already stretched so thin
with everything you're doing."

"It's because you deserve it," Louis says immediately. "You should be so proud of how hard
you worked to get that far without any help and I wanted you to enjoy something nice to
celebrate that."

Harry smiles down shyly, and Louis loves that he can make Harry feel that way but hates that
the smallest things light him up so much. Harry should be used to sweet gestures, and being
told that he's wonderful all the time.

"I'm sorry for pushing you again today," Harry finally says, stopping his ministrations on
Louis' knee. "But I'm not trying to force you to give up your independence, Lou, I know how
important that is for you. It's just that, you've gone so long without someone to depend on.
Sometimes, I don't know if you even know that you can, and I want you to know that you can
lean on me when you need to. It doesn't make you weak, and you don't have to take a huge
risk to completely depend on me financially, either. But if you ever want to reduce your work
hours, or skip out on a shift when it's getting to be too much for you, I can cover your
groceries or something for that week until you're feeling up to it again. Small steps, baby.
You have me now, and you're not using me by allowing me to take care of you the way I've
offered to."
Louis hands fly to his eyes, pressing down on his lids until spots dance across his vision. He
has no idea what he did to have a boy this sweet bending over backwards to find
compromises just to make his life easier.

"Fuck, Harry, you can't just say things like that," Louis mumbles.

He feels Harry's hands wrap around the wet skin of his wrists, gently tugging Louis' hands
away from his eyes.

"I can, and I will. You don't have to accept anything I'm saying right now, but just let the
thought sit with you for a bit, and know that it's true. I'll always be there."

Louis turns his head to the side, pursing his lips to request a kiss. Harry dips down to comply,
softly kissing him before pulling back to run a hand through Louis' fringe.

"You make me believe it," Louis finally says, and for the first time, he means it.

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·

Louis wakes up to the feeling of soft lips trailing over his shoulder as he slowly wrenches his
eyelids open. He keeps them half-shut as he adjusts to the brightness of the morning light
streaming through the window, already starting to flinch and giggle from the tickle of the soft
kisses being pressed all over the sensitive areas of his body.

“This might be the only way you’re allowed to wake me up without getting a knee in the
balls, you know.”

He can feel Harry smile against his skin, nipping at it lightly before responding.

“I know. And I would normally never, ever, do anything to disturb your precious sleep, but I
thought you might want to be awake on time today.”

Louis grumbles slightly, shuffling around until he’s on his back, looking up at Harry who’s
laying on his side, head propped up on his elbow. He looks almost angelic in the soft sunlight
bathing the room in a gentle glow, making his eyes sparkle and his curls light up in a halo
around his head.

“What reason could I possibly have to be awake at the ass crack of dawn on a Saturday?”

“It’s eight-thirty.”

“My point still stands.”

Harry grins down at him, using the hand not propping up his head to start tracing shapes over
Louis’ bare chest.
“Today’s graduation day. Thought you might want plenty of time to eat and get ready for one
of the most important days of our lives?”

Louis’ eyes widen as he stares into Harry’s amused expression, turning around frantically and
stretching to feel for his phone on the nightstand. He practically rips it out of the charger and
pulls it towards him, staring at the display to make sure he’s not hallucinating the date.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “It’s today.”

“Oh, baby, don’t tell me you forgot? I thought the phrase cock-dumb was just an
exaggeration, but now I’m not so sure. Remind me not to give it to you too good the night
before important events again, hmm?”

Louis drops his phone on the mattress and turns around to glare at his boyfriend, ready to tear
him a new one. But Harry just looks so pretty in the morning light that he decides to be
lenient, and pulls him down for a kiss instead.

Making a noise of contentment, Harry drops his hand to Louis’ hip as they make out slowly,
neither of them moving to take it further. They pull away after only a few seconds, and Harry
starts stroking a hand over Louis’ hair.

“How are you feeling about everything?” He asks quietly.

Louis averts his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m mostly excited, I think? But I'm a bit scared, too.
My parents are going to be there today. They’re going to sit in the crowd and watch me walk
across that stage, but they have no idea that I’m not going to see them again as soon as that
diploma is in my hands.”

Harry’s mouth twitches downward slightly as he keeps moving his hands through Louis’ hair
in soothing motions, keeping quiet like he’s learned to in order to let Louis get all his
thoughts out.

Louis decides to push on, the sense of vulnerability he feels not entirely uncomfortable when
it's in Harry's presence.

“Is it stupid, that I feel like I’m going to miss them? I mean, they made my life living hell for,
well, all of it, but here I am getting all sentimental.”

Harry dips down to press a kiss to Louis’ forehead, pulling back as his eyebrows furrow
together, pondering.

“No,” he says after a beat. “I don’t think it’s stupid. They’re your parents, and whether or not
they treated you properly, you haven’t really known a life without them. It’s easy during
times like this to get caught up in the emotions you're supposed to feel for them, or to start
focusing on some of the good times they’ve brought you. It’s not a light decision that you’re
making, and while you know it’s the right thing for you, that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Whatever you’re feeling after today, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Louis exhales shakily, scooting over so his side is flush with Harry’s torso.
“You’re wonderful,” he mumbles, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that he doesn’t
have to deal with this alone.

“I think the same thing when I look at you every day,” Harry murmurs back, slowly rolling
over so his body covers Louis’ on the bed.

“Mmmm, less talking,” Louis says. His heart rate quickly picks up as he feels Harry’s half-
hard cock rubbing against his with no layers of clothing between them. “We have a bit of
time before we need to start getting ready.”

Harry grins and dips down for a kiss, slowly tugging on Louis’ bottom lip before he pulls
back.

“You already know I don't need much time to make a mess of you,” he murmurs against
Louis’ mouth as he rolls his hips, eliciting a soft groan from Louis.

“Fuck,” Louis moans, leaning up to capture Harry’s lips in a deep, messy kiss, starting to get
worked up remarkably quickly despite the lingering soreness that still remains.

They’re startled apart by the sound of the front door of the apartment banging open and
hitting the wall, followed by an overly cheery voice floating into the bedroom.

“Wake up, you lazy shits!” Niall yells from outside their bedroom door. “We only have four
hours left until graduation, and I want to be nice and drunk in about three. That means you
have about two hours to get ready and eat until we start getting acquainted with my good
friends Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniel.”

Harry groans, body fully collapsing as he buries his head into Louis’ shoulder.

“If we don’t say anything, do you think he’ll go away?” He mumbles against Louis’ skin.

“I think you already know the answer to that, darling.”

The answer comes a mere two seconds later as Niall starts banging on the bedroom door
incessantly.

“You both better be decent in there! You’ll have plenty of time to do whatever the fuck it is
couples do later on, but I’m not letting Harry’s unhealthy obsession with your arse ruin the
plans that I’ve been making for four years. You have two minutes to get out of that room, or
I’ll break the door down myself.”

Harry stays unmoving for a beat, before sighing, picking his top half up off Louis’ body and
reaching over to the nightstand to grab his phone.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks as he wiggles out from under him, starting to hunt for the
clothes that were ripped off him in a frenzy last night.

“Looking for a defense attorney. I'm trying to figure out if my mom knows anyone who can
get me off for murdering my roommate.”
“Harry.”

“What.”

“Put the phone down. Let’s go graduate and get out of this hellhole.”

“Okay, baby,” Harry pulls him back onto the bed one last time, pressing a sloppy kiss to his
jaw. “Whatever you want. I’ll be right there with you.”

·•◌☽☼☾◌•·
End Notes

Kudos and comments are always appreciated, come say hi!

Twitter: shimmeringevil
Tumblr: shimmeringevil

Based on the following prompt: Louis Tomlinson is the definition of beauty, perfection, and
grace. Every day is a fashion show and the world is his runway. Harry Styles is not fooled by
his facade. Underneath the shiny lights and glamor, he knows that Louis has a secret and he
can’t wait to expose him. (Enemies to Lovers AU).

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