Lights Will Guide You Home

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/4094638.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/M, M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band)
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik, Liam
Payne/Sophia Smith
Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Zayn Malik
Additional Tags: AU, Self-Harm, Depression, Anxiety, High School, Punk Louis,
Innocent Harry, Angst, Fluff, Homophobia, Bullying, Homophobic
Language
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2015-06-07 Completed: 2016-04-09 Words: 137,227
Chapters: 25/25
 Lights Will Guide You Home
by orphan_account

Summary

Louis Tomlinson is his school’s resident bad boy and easily the most liked person there. He’s
loud and confident and popular. He spends most of his time abusing his parent's money or
partying or playing football. He also spends a good deal of it obsessing over the quiet curly
boy in his English class, but no one really needs to know that.

Harry Styles is more or less invisible at the same school (unless he’s being harassed). He’s
shy and painfully insecure and quiet. He spends most of his time crying on his bedroom floor
with a razor pressed against his skin or trying (and failing) to think of reasons to stay alive.

So, of course, it’s inevitable that they fall for each other.

Notes

So this is my first fanfiction and I waited forever to post this so here it is :)

Thank you so so much to Jane, Maddie and Olivia for betaing, I love you guys. ❤️
This does contain descriptions of self harm, anxiety, and depression so if that triggers you

❤️
please don't read.
Enjoy!
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

When Louis Tomlinson wakes up, it's to one if the worst hangovers of his life.

He groans as he attempts to sit up in bed, rubbing his temples to try to get rid of the
headache. His hair is tousled, his forehead is damp with sweat and he's still wearing his
clothes from the night before. A wave of nausea hits him as he slumps forward in his bed,
dropping his head in his hands and trying to remember what had happened last night. Brief
images flash across his mind; fluorescent neon lights...air thick with smoke...a guy in front of
him on his knees, sucking him off against a bathroom door.

Ah. Now he remembers. He glances over carelessly to make sure he's the only one in his bed.
He is, thank god. Right now he can't deal with the inconvenience of trying to smuggle a guy
past his family. He hopes he didn't drive home in that state, but he’s pretty sure he can
remember getting into his car.

He's running late, so he quickly strips down and turns on his shower. He takes two aspirins
right before he leaves in a vain attempt to cure his headache. He doesn’t have enough time to
stop for coffee or anything that could even be remotely considered a hangover cure, so he
resigns himself to the fact that he'll have to suffer through the next few hours and gets into his
car. He would usually have taken his motorcycle, but he’s pretty sure the sound of the engine
would kill him right now.

Even though he drives slowly, the ride to school is unpleasant at best, and when he arrives
he’s fairly certain he’s going to be sick. He pulls into an empty spot, scrubbing a hand over
his face before stepping out of his car and glancing around carelessly.

Feeling even more nauseous than he had a few minutes before, Louis leans against his car. He
spots his best friend Zayn across the parking lot, who waves him over. He walks over to him,
slumping pathetically against the wall.

"Shit mate you look awful," Zayn says, in lieu of a proper greeting. Louis glares at him with
no real malice behind it. “Bad night?”

“Can’t remember it too well,” Louis answers, walking towards the school. Zayn snorts and
falls into step next to him, clapping him on the shoulder sympathetically.

“Seriously though, are you ok?” Zayn asks, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Louis nods,
leaning into his hug.

“Yeah, thanks man,” Louis says. Zayn grins and winks at him.

Louis stops at his locker, swinging around to face Zayn. “So I’ll see you at lunch?” Zayn
nods, grinning at him before walking down the hallway to his class.
As Louis walks down the hallway, he’s greeted by several people. He ignores most of them,
giving a few people a nod. God, he wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for his stepdad’s
threats.

If you fail another class this year I’m not paying your tuition for university. Right. As if Louis
gives a fuck. The only reason he hasn’t dropped out already is his mother. He wouldn’t be
able to stand the disappointment on her face if he had to inform her that he would not, in fact,
be graduating sixth form. The only reason he does anything anymore is for his mum and
sisters.

Louis’s poor, poor mother. When she was twenty two, she'd married Louis' biological dad. He
walked out on her ten days after Louis was born, leaving her alone with no money, job or
insurance. Louis can't remember him, but he decided long ago that if he ever meets him he'll
try to kill him right there for what he did to them. She hadn't despaired for too long, though,
because a few months later she married Mark.

For a while after that, everything had been so good. They had moved into an obscene house
with him, and Louis’s mum had four more daughters. Mark had spared no expense on a
ridiculously gaudy, pretentious private school for Louis and the girls, and the family had been
happy. There had been lavish vacations and group dinners and holiday traditions and
everyone, especially Louis’s mother, had been so, so happy.

Things started to go downhill when Louis had asked to transfer schools. He had been in his
sixth year and was starting to realize that the classes there were far too much for a twelve
year old. Mark had acted like he was being “an ungrateful brat” as he’d so kindly phrased it,
but he’d relented when Louis’s mum gave him permission to switch. Even though it meant he
would be a year behind, he’d been immensely relieved.

Public school had been much easier. He’d met Zayn there and they’d moved onto secondary
school together, and things at home had been ok for a while.

And then just after Louis’s fourteenth birthday, things had changed. Louis started to notice
tiny subtle details about Mark, things that were slightly off- the way he dismissed Louis's
mom if she tried to talk to him, or the way he would scoff if one of the girls started crying, or
the way he would say that he'd turn up for dinner that night and then bail, claiming to have
forgotten. Just little, unimportant habits that made Louis uneasy, made him wonder if Mark
was really an appropriate parental figure. He’d ignored them, making excuses for Mark-

he must be busy with work, he’s got a busy schedule, he’s supporting us, so of course it gets
tiring...

As Louis got older, things got worse.

He must have started to pick up on the fact that Louis had started to see through him, so he
became cold and aggressive towards him. He started saying things like “I don’t know why
you choose to surround yourself with trash like that” about Zayn. He'd started ignoring
Louis's milestones, purposely skipping out on football games or ceremonies for him and
excusing it with work. And then one day, a month after his seventeenth birthday, Louis came
home with his first tattoo and he’d looked him over once, scoffed, then asked how much it
had cost, and whether Louis was planning on reimbursing him. And still, Louis had made
excuses for him, telling himself that he was imagining it, and that Mark was under a lot of
stress but he still loved Louis, because Louis was his son, right?

Wrong. Oh so painfully, embarrassingly wrong.

When Louis was seventeen. he’d realized he was gay. It had been easy to come to terms with;
after all, it’s 2015, so it shouldn’t be such a big deal. He’d known better than to come out at
school; his town was very conservative and he didn’t- he still doesn’t- want to deal with the
reactions of homophobic teenagers in a public school in Doncaster. But he’d figured that his
family, his parents, would have to accept him.

And so, he’d foolishly decided that he would tell them he was gay. He had walked into the
kitchen, interrupting a conversation between them.

“...John and Emily’s son, Noah, told them that he’s queer apparently,” Mark had said,
sounding disgusted. Louis swallowed, waiting anxiously for his mom to react.

“So they’re okay with it?” his mother had asked, astonished.

“Yeah. I’m telling you, if any of our children turn out like that, they’re packing their bags and
leaving. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s disgusting,” had been Mark's charming reply. So
Louis had backed out silently and pretended it hadn’t shattered him.

If one good thing had come out of that day it had been the confirmation that Mark was
worthless to him. He’s lived by that belief for the last year.

The bell rings and Louis sighs, pocketing his cigarette and walking into class and slumping
into his seat. He’s already settled in when someone behind him clears their throat. He glances
up irritably, wondering what someone could possibly need from him, and almost does a
double take.

It’s a boy. Louis figures he can’t be much older than sixteen, and one of the more innocent
sixteen year olds at that. He’s tall, but he’s has his arms wrapped around his stomach in a way
that suggests he’s trying to make himself look smaller. He’s got curly hair that’s pushed off
his forehead and swept to the side, and Louis is visited by an inexplicable, fleeting image of
him running his fingers through it. His lips are coral, a stark contrast to his soft cream skin.
His eyes-Louis is temporarily stunned when they first make eye contact. They’re a dark
green-grey color, the color of lush forest after a storm, or the color of the deepest part of the
ocean or the color of a lake when the sky is reflected off if it at dusk.

Wow. Ok. What the fuck. He’s really hungover. Louis has to tell himself he’s just a boy, who
he doesn’t know and who happens to be fairly stunning. Just another boy. He shouldn’t be
writing a fucking poem about his eyes.

The boy talks first, and his voice is low and hoarse. "Oops, um I didn't want to b-bother you,
but I was transferred to this class and the teacher- she told me to sit here... but it’s fine if you
don’t want that,” he rushes. He says it quickly and timidly, like he's afraid of Louis's reaction.
"Hi," Louis says, clearing his throat in a vain attempt to pull himself together. “Nah, it's no
problem, have a seat.” Louis flashes him a warm smile, pulling out the chair for him and
patting it. The kid looks down and gives him a shy, quick smile before sitting down. He
doesn't say anything else, so Louis speaks up again.

“You know, it's custom to introduce yourself when you first meet someone, especially if
you're gonna be English partners.” Louis’s joking, but the kid’s eyes flash with anxiety, like
he’s scared he did something wrong. Shit. Louis feels guilty immediately.

“S-sorry, um, I‘m Harry Styles,” he says, sounding unsure of himself.

“Louis Tomlinson.” Louis grins easily at him to let him know he didn't do anything wrong,
and Harry gives him a half smile before pulling out his books. Louis stares at him, transfixed
for a moment before shaking his head and pulling out his books.

Alright. So he has an attractive new English partner. He should enjoy it.

What he shouldn’t do is stare at Harry so many times that he memorizes his dimples and the
crinkles by his eyes. He shouldn’t fantasize about brushing his hair off of his face. He
shouldn’t find it so adorable when Harry gives him another shy smile. He shouldn’t try to
figure out little habits that he has, like biting the end of his pen and sketching intricate
designs in the corner of his notebook and playing with his sleeves. Of course, he does all of
these things.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Shit. He’s so fucked.

***

Harry’s day started twenty minutes ago, and he’s already desperate for it to be over.

First of all, he really, really hadn’t wanted to transfer classes. He’d been called into guidance
a few days ago and been asked if he wanted to switch into an eleventh year class, since his
grades had been higher than anyone else’s. He hadn’t, at all, but he’d been too nervous about
the staff judging him if he’d said no, so he’d agreed. This morning, he’d had a panic attack
about the idea of having to adjust to a new group of students, and a new teacher, where
everyone would be looking at him for the first time and thinking about how ugly he was, how
ridiculously out of place he would be, how socially awkward and quiet and weird he was. He
knows that’s what everyone thinks anyway, but it’s worse with the knowledge that it’s a
completely new group of people.

And then, to make matters worse, he’s seated next to Louis Tomlinson.

Louis, who is notoriously popular at their school. Louis who is incredibly gorgeous, with his
fringe and his tattoos and his soft blue eyes. Louis, who is adored by the entire student body.
Basically, Louis is everything that Harry isn’t. Harry feels so inadequate, so worthless
standing next to him.
He was nice enough when Harry had first talked to him, at least. Even though Harry had
stuttered and forgotten to introduce himself and sounded like an idiot, he’d still been nice. It
should say something about Harry that that gesture had been enough to make him want to
start crying.

Harry is the epitome of a fuck up. Everything had started a little more than a year ago, when
he had come out to his best friends, Liam and Niall. He hadn’t been scared, really-he had
known he was gay for about a year, and he’d known that Niall and Liam would be accepting.
They had been amazing, of course, that hadn’t been a problem at all. The problem had been
that Harry was a fucking idiot and decided to do it in a public place, where he’d been
overheard by another student, who had decided to spread Harry’s extremely personal,
vulnerable confession to the whole school.

That had been the one, fatal event that had caused Harry’s life to go downhill. He didn’t
know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been to be ostracized by the entire student body. It
hadn’t been constant physical and emotional torment from people he had never done anything
to. It really hadn’t been that he would start to see why everyone found him so disgusting, that
he would hate himself so much more than anybody else could ever possibly hate him.

None of matters much to him anymore. He’s fairly certain he won’t even be alive by the end
of the year. The only reasons he hasn’t ended it yet are his mother, Liam, and Niall, and he
knows he’s a burden on them too so there’s very little point in staying around much longer.

This is what’s going through his mind while he’s hyper aware of Louis watching him. He
tries to steady his breathing, tries to ignore the heart palpitations that he’s become so used to
by now. But still, knowing that someone is paying attention to him, that he’s drawing
attention to himself by being so ugly, is awful.

So needless to say, it’s a relief to him when the bell rings. He manages to get through the
morning without drawing any more attention to himself, and when he starts to go to lunch
Niall and Liam are leaning against his locker, waiting for him as he leaves class.

“Hey mate,” Niall greets him cheerfully, clapping him on the back. Liam grins at him as he
approaches, and Harry relaxes for the first time that day.

As soon as Harry is within earshot, Liam asks “You had an ok morning, Harry?” code for
“Did anybody try to beat you up this morning, or were you lucky for once?”

“Yeah, it’s been fine," he replies, an answer that seems to have an effect of great relief on
Liam.

"Good," he says, seemingly satisfied. Niall throws an arm around his shoulders and they start
walking outside, to where they usually sit for lunch to avoid people who are likely to harass
Harry (they won’t say it, but he knows it true).

God, he has such good friends.

Liam is the kind of person everyone needs in their life. He’s the kind of person who you call
if you need something and no matter what the problem is, he’ll drop everything to be there.
He’s such a caring friend, too; he always asks Harry if he’s ok, how he’s doing, if he needs
anything. Harry’s lost count of how many times he’s asked if he could do anything to the
guys who harass Harry. (He never lets him, of course, but still).

Everyone should have someone like Niall in their life too. He’s the happiest person that Harry
knows- he’s only seen him genuinely sad three or four times in the eight years they’ve been
friends. He wants everyone else to be happy too, so if you tell him you’re sad he’ll be
cuddling you and asking what’s wrong. Harry doesn’t think it’s possible for Niall to be
intimidating. He doesn’t think he’s ever even seen him yell at anyone before.

Harry’s staying alive pretty much exclusively for the two of them.

They settle at one of the tables just outside of the school, one that’s far enough from where
most people were sitting because Liam and Niall know that Harry’s anxious in crowds. He
can't say how much he appreciates them doing little things for him like that, even though he’s
sure it’s a burden to them. He still wonders why they haven’t abandoned him yet. It’s one of
the thoughts that hit him when he should be asleep but instead he’s alone in his room,
exhausted but too overwhelmed to sleep. It’s somehow worse when he’s thinking about it in
broad daylight in a crowd of people. He thumbs at his wrist as a distraction.

"Alright Harry?" Liam asks, noticing that he seems slightly upset. Harry swallows and nods.
Niall looks over at him, frowning.

"C'mon mate, we aren't stupid," Niall says, giving Harry a look. "We know you, you can tell
us what you're thinking." Harry has to disagree on that.

"I'm fine, 'm just tired," he lies. He’s so used to saying this it comes naturally now, which
makes him kind of sick. Liam looks at him sadly.

“Lately you just seem kinda...I don’t know, distant, I just wanna make sure you’re ok,” Liam
tells him, squeezing his shoulder. Harry pulls his sleeves further over his wrists, wishing he
could apologize for being such a bad friend to them and thank them for not leaving him yet
and promise them that unless something majorly changes, they won’t have to put up with him
for much longer.

“Yeah, I’m fine Li, I was up all night studying…” Clearly they don't buy it, but thankfully,
they don't pressure him into talking anymore. Liam just gives him another concerned look
and Niall pats him on the shoulder. Harry gives them a fake smile, and stays quiet for the rest
of lunch.

Later he’s on his way to chemistry, and a guy shoves him against a locker, then snarls
“Faggot.” Which, truthfully, is a lot better than what he was used to. When he walks away,
Harry stands there, glassy eyed and shaking for a few moments, before he hurries to class and
slumps into his seat, still trembling. He must look pretty bad, because his lab partner Zayn,
who’s a nice guy but, (like Harry), not very sociable, looks at him then asks, “You ok man?”

“Yeah, yeah, fever,” Harry says, knowing it’s probably the the least convincing lie of all time,
but praying that Zayn won’t say anything else. Zayn nods, then gives him a kind of
sympathetic half smile, which Harry returns with a fake one.
 He somehow makes it through the rest of the day without breaking down, and by the time
he’s walking back to his house, he’s practically in tears. He forces himself not to cry yet-he
doesn’t even have a reason to cry, he’s so fucking helpless, and it’s another reminder of why
he hates himself so much; he can’t deal with the most trivial things.

He manages to get through his front door and up to his room before he collapses on his
knees. Shaking slightly, he reaches into the drawer where he keeps razors, fumbles through it
until he finds one, and gasps with relief as his fingers close around the tiny piece of cold
metal.

Faggot.

Queer.

Worthless.

Disgusting

Unnatural.

It’s so fucking relentless, not just the bullying but everything else-the self hate, the insecurity.
And what hurts the worst was that it’s all true-he is worthless, he is disgusting, he is a faggot.
He’s reminded of it every day, and he deserves everything he gets-he deserves it every time
somebody shoves him against a locker or calls him queer or hits him, he deserves all the
bruises and scars he’s gotten from being bullied for two years, he deserves everything he does
to himself-every cut on his wrists or thighs, every drop of blood, every tear.

He slashes it quickly across his wrist, letting out a shaky gasp as he feels it prick his skin. He
repeats it a few more times, watching blood rise to the surface of his skin and trickle down
his arm. He lets it, not bothering to clean it yet.

After he's finished, still feeling utterly worthless but slightly more relieved than he had been a
few minutes ago, he slumps against his bed.. He doesn't know how long he's there, but
eventually he hauls himself into the bathroom, strips (trying not to look at his wrist or thighs)
and turns on the shower, staying in there until the hot water has gone.

He doesn’t cry until he’s in bed, letting the events of the day and his life wash over him,
wondering what he’s still here for and not finding an answer.

Chapter End Notes

This is the first chapter so just bear with me, chapters will be longer but I need to set
everything up.

Follow me on tumblr at louisxharry and reblog the masterpost if you want.

Please leave comment, kudos, and suggestions!
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

I'm so sorry for the long wait for the update, I had a busy week and I couldn't write. But
in the future, I'll probably be updating on Saturdays or Sundays at around 12pm New
York time.

❤️
Also everyone go give some love to Jane, because she betaed this at the last minute and
I also love her very much

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry’s head hurts.

It’s too early in the morning, he’s gotten maybe five hours of sleep, and the last thing he
wants to do is drag himself to school. He groans and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow,
trying to block out his alarm. Squeezing his eyes shut, he counts to ten before forcing himself
to sit up in bed. Every part of him is sore, his wrists are stinging from the night before, and he
feels nauseous when he thinks about facing the day.

It’s the type of morning he’s used to.

Harry rubs the sleep from his eyes, stretching and pushing himself off of the bed. He hauls
himself to his bathroom, splashing cold water on himself in a vain attempt to wake himself
up. Anxiety is bubbling in his chest as he imagines going to school, but he disregards it.
That’s nothing new for him.

He pulls on jeans and a sweater, making sure that his wrists aren’t visible. It’s become routine
for him- cover up the cuts quickly so that he doesn’t have to look at them and there’s no way
anyone else can see them. If he looks at them for too long, he feels sick.

In order to avoid reality, Harry stays up in his room for as long as possible, flicking through
his phone and pretending he doesn’t see the time. It’s not until about ten minutes before he’s
required to be at school that he leaves the house, calling a quick goodbye to his mom and
stepdad as he rushes out the door.

Harry walks to school quickly, blasting music in his headphones so he can drown out the
sound around him and focus on something other than his own thoughts. As he approaches the
school, he’s aware of his heart pounding heavily in his chest and heat rushing to his cheeks.
He’s dizzy from fatigue and hunger and maybe panic now and all he wants to do is get
through the day, managing to avoid everyone.
He’s almost late, so he’s rushing through the hallways when he hears a harsh voice call out
behind him “Hey, Styles!” seconds later, he’s surrounded by a group of boys, his usual
attackers. Harry averts his eyes to the ground, raking his nails across his wrist for relief. He
tries to steady his breathing so they don’t know how much power they have over him, but it
doesn’t matter because he’s shaking so badly that there’s no point in trying to hide it.

Chris, his most common tormentor, steps forward, smirking. Harry braces himself for
whatever’s coming.

“Where are you going, fag?” snarls one of the other guys, and Harry winces at the slur. He
doesn’t answer, just stares, glassy eyed, at the ground. He’s learned it’s better to just keep
quiet and let it pass then try to fight them. Although this is not the case today, because Chris
pushes him roughly against the wall in one abrupt motion, hissing “Answer the fucking
question, faggot.”

“Don’t-” Harry chokes out pathetically, causing Chris to laugh and tighten his grip on him.
Harry grits his teeth, preparing for a blow to the face, when he hears someone yell “Hey!”
much to his relief, Liam and Niall are striding up the hallway. Harry relaxes slightly as Chris
lets go of him, scowling.

“What the fuck?” Liam snaps, addressing Chris. He’s kind of terrifying when he’s pissed, and
if Harry didn’t know Liam is probably incapable of hurting someone, he would be afraid.

“We were just leaving,” Chris say coldly, glaring at Harry, who flinches.

“Well, go on then,” Liam tells him, raising his eyebrows. “Unless there was something else
you were waiting for?”

Chris takes a step back lazily. “I don’t wanna fight man…” he starts, but Niall cuts in quickly.

“Then I suggest you get out of here.” God, Harry loves his friends.

Rolling his eyes, Chris gestures to his friends to leave. He throws one last loathing look at
Harry before swaggering away.

Liam turns away from them and back to Harry, his eyes soft and worried. Niall practically
tackles him in a hug, and Harry has to swallow back tears of relief and thankfulness.

“Harry…” Liam starts sympathetically, but Harry cuts him off.

“Thank you guys, really, but I’m fine.” Liam and Niall both stare at him in disbelief.

“Harry, mate, no offense but like, you didn’t seem fine,” states Niall flatly. Liam grimaces
and nods.

“Harry, can you please just tell me next time? Because I could do something…”

“I’m fine, drop it Liam,” Harry snaps, with a tone of finality. Of course, they’re just trying to
help and they don’t deserve it and the guilt is already setting in, but he can’t talk to them
about this. He already feels terrible that they have to put up with him and all his other
problems, and he can't let Liam get in trouble for him.

Everything had started almost two years ago. It was his first year and of secondary school
and Harry had just turned fourteen. He was already having the worst year of his life; his
grades were dropping because of stress, he was finding it harder and harder to talk to people,
and he was realizing that he did not, in fact, like girls. And one day, after school in the middle
of the parking lot, he'd confessed to Niall and Liam that he was gay.

They'd been completely supportive, of course, and even though he knew they would be it was
still a huge relief. What he hadn't known at the time was that a number of other students had
overheard their conversation, and they hadn't been quite as accepting.

By the end of the week the whole school knew.

And even then, Harry felt ok. After all, it was 2013 and there couldn't be that many people
who were homophobic, right?

Wrong, apparently. His first day back to school after being outed, he got more slurs shouted
at him than he could count.

That day was the hardest he'd ever cried.

As time went on, things at school got worse. People realized that he wasn't going to defend
himself against bullying, so they got crueler. He had a few friends who were supportive, but
he stopped talking to them because it was too exhausting, and he didn't have the energy to
maintain the relationships. Niall and Liam were extraordinarily protective over him, but he
wouldn't let them do anything about the people at school.

He never told anyone about what he was experiencing, despite Niall and Liam's constant
pleas to tell his mom or the school. He didn't want her to worry and he knew that the
administration wouldn't do anything about it, so he never bothered. And he never, ever talked
to anyone about the fact that he was wondering more and more if it was possible that he
might have undiagnosed depression or anxiety, convincing himself that he was making it all
up.

The first time he cut himself was a month after he was outed. He'd been alone at home,
crying over getting called a fag or getting shoved into a locker- he can't even remember
anymore. He'd seen self harm before- online and in books and movies- and he'd wondered if
maybe, it really could help. So he popped the blades out of a razor and slashed it messily
across his wrists and discovered that the pain really did help.

Within three weeks he was doing it almost every night.

The first few times he tried it, he almost wanted someone to notice. He thought that maybe,
then they would see how badly he was doing without him having to tell them, maybe he
would finally get the help he wanted but was too scared to ask for. But then he started
imagining the reactions, the horror and guilt and disgust that his friends or family would feel
if they knew, and that was enough motivation to keep it very much to himself.
Harry does it for relief, and he does it for control. On the days where he’s harassed
relentlessly, he can come home and collapse on his bathroom floor and slice the razor across
his thigh in order to feel like he has a grip on something in his life, and in order to release
some of the consuming, suffocating pain inside him. When he’s afraid to go to school and
anxiety is threatening to tear him apart from the inside, it subsides when he feels the pain.
When he's in class, wallowing in self hatred because he stuttered or got an answer wrong, he
can go home and forget about it for a few minutes by focusing on the clean way that the
blades pierce his skin and the sharp, stinging sensation that follows. It’s the only coping
mechanism he has, and it fucking works, so he has no reason to believe he’ll ever stop.

It works, and it's working now as he discreetly digs his nails into the skin on his wrist so he
can focus on the pain instead of the humiliation and shame and sickness that's threatening to
take control of him. He'll let it, later tonight when he's alone and has nothing to do but
suffocate in his own mind, but he needs to put on a smile for Liam and Niall. It's proving
difficult, considering that tears are already pricking the back of his eyes. He grits his teeth
and looks up at them, smiling and trying to breathe.

"I'm walking you to class," Liam informs him. Harry doesn't even argue, too exhausted and
overwhelmed to fight it. And besides, he's grateful for the protection.

Niall waves them goodbye, casting one more worried look towards Harry before taking off
down the hallway. As Harry gathers his books, he pretends he can't feel Liam staring at him,
waiting for him to show some sign of vulnerability. Miraculously, he doesn't. He supposes
he's become pretty good at that.

Liam doesn't say anything else as they walk, so Harry listens to the scuff of their shoes
against the linoleum and the muffled voices in classrooms and anything, really, but his own
thoughts. When they arrive at Harry's first class, Liam turns to him, touching him lightly on
the arm.

"We'll see you at lunch?" he confirms. Harry nods, smiling again to reassure him. Liam
squeezes him quickly on the shoulder before dashing to his class.

For the rest of the day, Harry goes into autopilot mode. He doesn't speak in class and he
blocks out the noises around him and he keeps his head down. At lunch, he laughs at Niall's
stories and he complains about homework with them, but he feels like he's going through the
motions and he feels very, very far away. He realized a while ago that he spends a good
percentage of his life in this state. It's easiest.

By the end of the day he's exhausted and empty and drained of any energy he’d had earlier.
All he wants to do is isolate himself in his room, so he can curl up on his bed with his eyes
closed while pretending to be somewhere far, far away. It’s just forty five more minutes. He
has to be able to get through it, he literally has to, because he doesn’t have the energy or
emotional capability for communication right now.

He sits down in English, where he’s apparently supposed to be analyzing symbolism in the
book they’re reading. Perfect. He sighs bitterly before pulling out his notebook, scribbling
out an explanation. It’s an easy assignment, and he knows he’ll do well, but he doesn’t have
the energy to put too much effort into it. He hands it in quickly, before returning to his seat
and pulling out other homework.

It’s twenty minutes into class when the door bursts open and Louis swaggers in, nodding and
grinning at someone across the room before dropping his bag and sitting next to Harry. He
tenses up slightly, shifting to the side to put more space between them and trying to ignore
the heart palpitations that started when Louis sat down. He had hoped to be alone, so he
wouldn’t have to worry about what Louis would be thinking of him.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” their teacher, Ms. Teasdale, drawls when he enters, “I’m glad you’ve
decided to join us halfway into class.”

“Sorry m’am,” Louis replies, a sly grin crawling across his face as he leans against his chair.
“I had a free period before this, lost track of time.”

“I see,” she says flatly, clearly not amused. “Well, as you know, this class is not your
strongest-” Louis’s smirk wavers the slightest bit, but Harry only notices because he can’t
tear his eyes from him- “so hopefully, Mr. Styles here will be willing help you out with this
essay.”

Harry swallows. “Um, what?” he says hoarsely. A few people laugh quietly, and Harry’s
cheeks burn, so he pinches some of the skin on his wrists to distract himself.

“Can you help Mr. Tomlinson, who lost track of time to complete this assignment? You’ve
already finished, so I don’t see why not.” Harry nods quickly, his stomach churning at the
idea of trying to instruct Louis, but he doesn’t want to say no. “Excellent,” she says shortly,
before returning to her computer.

Harry turns towards Louis, who sighs and throws his head back. He runs his fingers through
his hair, turning towards Harry, who’s struck by how incredibly attractive he is.

Fuck. No. Stop.

“You don’t have to do this,” Louis tells him tiredly. “I can write it myself.”

“Um, it’s no- it’s not a problem, but if you don’t want me to, then- I mean, that’s fine, I
won’t,” he stammers, tapping his foot nervously. Louis gives him a shrug and a half smile.

“It would be great if you could tell me what the book was about, I didn’t actually read it,”
Louis tells him, clicking his pen.

“Basically, you just need to say that the different colors were like, emotions, and it changed
based on how the main character was feeling,” Harry supplies, watching Louis scribble it
down.

“Thanks mate.” Louis looks up from his paper, smiling at him. “Are there any quotes I should
use, any specific scenes or anything?"

"I didn't put anything like that." Harry frowns. "Do you think it's important?" He adds,
suddenly worried that he forgot a key part of the essay.
Louis laughs but it's not cruel, it's warm and inviting and lovely. "Nah, I think you're fine,
mate." He trains his blue eyes on Harry's, who feels himself blush underneath his state. "I
mean, yours is gonna be better than mine no matter what, so I wouldn't worry about it."

"I can read it over for you if you want," Harry offers him without thinking. Louis raises his
eyebrows, pressing his lips together in discomfort.

"Harry," he starts, and Harry probably shouldn't enjoy the way his own name rolls off of
Louis's tongue as much as he does, "you know you don't need to like, do it for me, right? I
mean, I can handle it myself."

"I- I know," Harry stutters, afraid that he'd offended or pissed Louis off. "I just meant, if you
wanted me to, I could help you. Not that you need it, or that I'd be doing it for you. I'm
just...saying." He bites his lip, looking up at Louis.

Louis smiles at warmly and easily. "Thank you, Harry, really, but I'm good." Standing up, he
whips the paper off if the table with a flourish and walks up to set the paper on
Ms.Teasedale's desk. Harry expects Louis to ignore him for the rest of the period- he was
astonished he even talked to him in the first place, honestly- but when he returns to their
desks, he sits back down and turns to face Harry.

"So, you're not in my year, right?" Louis asks him, seeming genuinely interested. Harry
shakes his head.

"Nope, I'm in my ninth year but I got transferred to this class," he explains. Louis nods,
leaning back in his seat.

"No offense, but why'd you transfer? I mean, if I was smart enough to be in another class, I
wouldn't really want to do more work, you know?" Harry shrugs.

"I don't know, the other class was bad too..." Louis smiles, cocking his head to the side.

"Well, I'm glad you did, if it means you'll help me all the time," Louis says jokingly. Harry
smiles shyly and looks down, playing with his sweater. "But seriously, thanks for today, I
really need to pass this class."

"Uh, yeah, of course," Harry tells him. “It wasn’t a big deal…”

And then the bell rings, and for the first time in his life Harry isn't relieved at the sound of it.
He likes talking to Louis, and there's a small twinge of disappointment in his stomach as he
shoves his books in his bag.
***

Louis drives home very preoccupied that day.

He’s thinking about the ridiculous amount of homework that he’s supposed to do and the fact
that Mark is going to be home for dinner tonight but he’s mostly thinking about Harry and his
dimples and his curls and his laugh.
It’s just...fuck. Louis doesn’t like him, doesn’t feel anything for him, doesn’t even know him
but he wants to. He wants to know what his favorite movie is and what he wants to do when
he graduates and what makes him laugh and just everything. He wants to know every part of
Harry Styles, every little fact and quirk and piece of information. All because of some ten
minute conversation.

The whole thing makes Louis want to scream with frustration.

He’s stayed away this for so long. He’s dated a few guys and he’s fucked a ton of them and
he’s always been able to avoid any type of infatuation with them. Because he’s seen what it
can do to people- he’s seen his mom get her heart broken more than once and ever since he
was very, very young he’s known that relationships are a bad thing. Every time he’s seen one
it’s ended in disaster, and he’s been smart enough to stay away from them. And now, now he
can’t be thinking this way about some sixteen year old who he’s known for twenty four
hours.

No. Louis needs to stop immediately. He’s tired, and he’s stressed out, and he is absolutely
not going to start thinking about Harry Styles like this. Anything that he might think he’s
feeling right now is the result of a long and stressful week, and it will be gone in the morning.
He doesn’t feel anything for Harry. He is the epitome of indifference.

Shaking his head, Louis pulls into his driveway. Mark has given “his word” to the girls that
he’ll be there for dinner, so Louis can assume he won’t make it. On the slight chance that he
does make an appearance, Louis needs to order food so he can stay in his room all night
without starving.

He’s the only one at home, so he heads upstairs and turns on his TV. His plan is to stay there
all night, binge watching Netflix and eating Chinese take away, which he does for four hours.
To his dismay, he’s interrupted by his mother and sister’s arrival.

“Louis!” she calls upstairs, and she sounds so tired and defeated that he immediately runs
downstairs to help her. She looks on the verge of tears- her eyes are full of exhaustion and
frustration and sympathy for her rises in Louis’s chest.

“Lou, Mark cancelled, and I have to put the girls down soon, can you order some food?” she
asks desperately. “I’m so sorry to make you wait, I just expected dinner to be ready by now,
and I’ve had to take them to different appointments all afternoon, and-” she cuts off, sinking
into the nearest chair. The twins have left the room, so for the first time all day, she lets her
guard down. Anger towards Mark flares in Louis as he watches her drop her head into her
hands, her face screwed up in a terrific effort to hold back tears.

His mother deserves so much better.

"Mum? Everything ok?" He asks timidly, biting the inside of his cheek.

Exhaling deeply, she straightens up. "Yeah, it's fine poppet, I just- I've been dealing with
appointments and scheduling events all day, and I expected to come home with and relax, and
your dad cancelled and it's just...it's frustrating." Louis doesn't bother correcting her when she
says "your dad." It doesn't matter right now anyway.
“Mum, you order food and let me put the girls down, ok?” Her eyes soften with relief.

"Thank you so much Lou," she starts to say, but he shrugs it off, smiling one more time at her
before calling to the twins.

“Hey, Dais and Phoebs, I’m reading to you tonight, alright?” Both of them squeal with
delight, dragging him up the stairs to their room.

Daisy and Phoebe agree on some picture book about a princess, and Louis gives them a full
performance complete with specific voices for each character. They adore it, so much that it's
easy enough to get them to climb in bed easily. Louis sits on the floor beside them, promising
to stay until they're asleep.

"Louis," Daisy murmurs, half awake, "you should read to us more."

Louis smiles. "Just tell me when you want me to and I will, love."

She smiles back, and even though it should make him happy he feels a pang of guilt in his
chest. He's been such a shitty brother and son- he can't remember the last time he did
something with his sisters and half an hour ago, his mom had been downstairs crying because
she had no one to help her out.

He swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. Enough of this for now.

True to his word, Louis stays until both twins have completely dozed off. He goes downstairs
with the intentions of saying a quick goodnight to his mom and then heading upstairs for the
night, but when he arrives in the kitchen he sees that she's set the table for both of them, and,
well, he needs to spend time with her anyway. He sits across from her, taking a slice of pizza.
The silence is tense and he waits for her to start a conversation.

“So,” she finally says, clasping her hands together on the table. “I feel like I haven’t talked to
you in a while, how are you doing?”

Taken aback, Louis almost chokes on his pizza. “Um,” he says awkwardly, “I’m alright?”

“Thank you again for helping out tonight,” she tells him, smiling sadly at him from across the
table. “It was just a rough night after Mark cancelled, and I’ve had a stressful week.”

“So what was his excuse this time?” Louis deadpans, tilting his head to one side and looking
over at her. “More work, or a dinner, or just didn’t want to show up?”

Her face clouds over with disappointment and anger. “Louis, you know he’s busy-”

“Yeah, sure, whatever mom,” he says, too tired to argue but too fed up to pretend he agrees.
He pushes his chair out behind him, about to walk upstairs when the front door opens.

“Jo?” someone calls, and Louis can’t hold back a cough of disgust when Mark enters. He’s
wearing some expensive suit and flipping carelessly through his phone and Louis kind of
wants to punch him. That’s nothing new.
 “Hey honey,” his mom says, eyes lighting up as he enters. He bends down to give her a brief
kiss, ignoring Louis completely. Louis scowls at him darkly.

“Sorry about the delay, got held up,” he says carelessly, then adds, “God, I’m starving, thanks
for ordering food. Did you have an ok time with the girls?”

“Oh, yeah, Louis actually helped me out a ton by putting them down,” she tells him, smiling
at Louis. Mark glances over towards him.

“So you decided to spend some time with the family for once?” he scoffs. Louis smirks,
pressing his lips together irritably. He would so love to point out the irony of that statement,
but his mom is looking at him, her eyes full of sadness and desperation for him to bite his
tongue, so he does.

“Well, good night mum,” he says shortly, giving her a quick nod. He doesn’t look at Mark
again before he goes upstairs.

Instead of getting into bed, Louis steps out onto his balcony and lights a cigarette. He leans
against the railing, rolling the cigarette between his index and middle finger. He takes a long
drag, enjoying the smell of the smoke. Absentmindedly, his eyes trail a pair of headlights on
the road below him, following the car until it’s out of sight. The air is thick and heavy and
brisk, the way it is right before rain, but the sky is clear. He looks up at the stars and then
exhales, the smoke clouding his view. It’s a bit of a depressing thought.

He stays outside for a few minutes more before extinguishing his cigarette and pitching the
remains of it over the edge of the balcony. Rain has started to fall, rapidly and intensely,
soaking through his white tee shirt and causing his hair to fall loosely over his face. He lets it,
thought, listening to the steady rhythm of the drops pounding the cement and enjoying the
freezing sensation on his skin. He feels calmer right now than he has all day.

Once it’s stopped, Louis heads inside and sheds his sodden outfit, shaking out his hair. He
climbs into bed in just boxers. He stays up on his computer for a while, aimlessly scrolling
through various websites, until it’s one in the morning and he’s too tired to see straight.

The last thing that crosses his mind before he falls asleep is that he’s gonna get to see Harry
tomorrow.

And he is so, so fucked.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for reading and please leave comments and kudos!

The next update will probably be July 12th, because I'm going to France and I won't
have time to write, but if I can get it up earlier I'll let you know.
Also follow me on tumblr at louisxharry and reblog the masterpost if you want :)
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

Hey, I'm so sorry for how long it's been since I updated, I was on vacation and I didn't
get the chance but I'm back now! And I'll be updating weekly from now on.

This hasn't been betaed yet so I'm sorry for any mistakes, they'll be fixed as soon as
possible.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Louis slams another football into the goal, enjoying the satisfying smack of the rubber
against the net. He’s been at practice for the last hour, working on tricking the goalie
(although lets be honest, he doesn’t really need to work on that at all, this is really to help the
kid train for the next match). He discovered last year that playing football, or just working
out, really, is the best way to deal with his problems - he’s found that it releases the stress and
irritation that he keeps constantly bottled up.

It’s the only healthy thing about his lifestyle, really.

He makes another goal against the poor kid, who’s obviously very stressed at this point, and
turns around to face the field. As team captain, it’s his responsibility to make sure practice is
going smoothly, and he’s been neglecting his duties for an hour. He scans the field, looking
for anything that might be a “problem.” Honestly, he doesn’t know why it’s his responsibility
to sort out arguments between whiny teenage boys, but when the coach had offered him the
position, one of the requirements had been to “help keep the team civil at all times.” Bullshit,
but he cared too much about football to turn it down.

Luckily, there don’t seem to be any disagreements, and he’s about to return to training his
absolutely hopeless goalie when Coach Alvarez approaches them, looking irritated.

“Tomlinson!” he barks, and Louis turns around. “Can you help sort out an argument between
Payne and Coleman while I test the rest of the team’s progress?”

Of fucking course.

“Alright,” Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair, “what’s the issue?”

“Not sure,” Coach Alvarez says, looking as exasperated as Louis feels, “but I know that Liam
was yelling at him, and they were practicing behind the bleachers.”
Louis nods briefly, turning back to the goalie. “Not bad,” he lies, “but you gotta practice
some more.” The kid looks startled when Louis addresses him, nodding quickly. Louis winks
at him to reassure him, before striding off to the bleachers.

Irritation is already rising in his chest as he walks, not just because it’s his job to break up
their fucking fight but because of all people, he’s dealing with Liam Payne and Chris
Coleman. Liam is insufferable - always correcting people or trying to impress the coach and
team or talking about how much he adores his girlfriend. A few weeks ago, Louis had gotten
so fed up with hearing about, Sophia, while he was trying to practice that he’d intervened.

“Well, Liam,” he’d commented, cocking his head to one side innocently, “I know that she’s,
what did you call it, ah yes, your soulmate, but I seriously doubt that you two are going to
last two more weeks, so I suggest you stop telling us all about every date, because it’ll be
awkward when we have to give you sympathy about the breakup. I reckon we’ll all feel a bit
like our parents divorced if we know every detail of your relationship, right lads?”

Liam had laughed humorlessly, swinging around to face Louis. Louis raised his eyebrows,
frowning slightly while he waited for him to retaliate.

“Tomlinson,” he said, smirking slightly, “as much as I appreciate your input on my

relationship, I’m not gonna take advice from the guy who’s fucked half of the girls in the
school, but never seems to be dating one. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to continue
talking about my girlfriend, and if you have a problem, ignore it.” And Louis hadn’t even
known how to respond because 1.he had slept with two girls at school, 2.he’s dated plenty of
guys outside of school and 3.if Liam would stop being a heteronormative asshole, he might
consider that.

(Later that day, Louis had called Zayn to find out if he really had a reputation as a
womanizer. He did, in fact, and even though he was still in the closet it bothered him that
people thought of him that way. He had dealt with it by going out and finding a college
student at a club and hooking up with him instead.)

Although Liam’s unbearable, Chris is infinitely worse. He’s self entitled, he drops sexist,
racist, or homophobic slurs every five minutes, he targets the younger players on the team
and tries to make them feel like shit, he’s just a general asshole all around. There have been
several occasions that Louis’s had to go into the back of the locker rooms where the punching
bags are kept so he can hit something, because otherwise he knows he’ll punch Chris. If he
has to choose sides in the fight, he’ll absolutely choose Liam.

As Louis approaches them, he can see that the “fight” is a bit one-sided - Liam is shouting
and gesturing aggressively, while Chris crosses his arms and leans back, unaffected. He can
hear a bit of what he’s saying as he gets closer.

“...a fucking prick, and if I see that you’re doing anything else to him I swear-” Liam is
snarling, and Louis is actually genuinely interested in the conversation by now. However, it’s
his job to get the argument cleared up, and he doesn’t want to have to spend any more time
with them than absolutely necessary.
“Lads, lads,” Louis calls, voice dripping with sarcasm. Both of them turn around; Chris looks
bored and Liam looks annoyed, like he can’t imagine a bigger inconvenience. Well. They
have something in common.

Standing in between them now, Louis crosses his arms. “What, may I ask, is the problem?”
Both of them scowl at him.

“C’mon,” Louis presses, and he’s having more fun than he should be. “Oh! I’ve got it!” He
pauses, smirking and reaching to put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Liam, did he dare to
question your relationship with… Sarah?” Liam rolls his eyes, throwing a dark look at Louis.

“Sophia, and no. I certainly don’t want you ‘sorting this out’ Tomlinson.” Louis huffs out a
dry laugh.

“Aw, that’s such a disappointment Liam!” he says, pouting. Yes, this is far too enjoyable. “I
really did want to get involved in your problems.” He straightens up, clapping his hands
together. “Look, boys, I don’t give a shit about what you were fighting about,” then, just to
piss off Liam, adds “or who you’re trying to defend, Payne, I heard part of your
conversation.” Liam’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Chris just looks between
them, mildly interested. “However, it’s part of my job to take care of your problems. So, can
you wait until after practice to deal with this?” Liam nods curtly, and Chris shrugs.

“Sure, man.” Chris nods to him, and for some reason Louis finds the small gesture
infuriating. He looks between the two of them once before motioning for them to rejoin the
team. Despite the fact that he’d acted like he didn’t care, Louis's slightly curious as to what
they’d been discussing, and who Liam was defending.

Whatever. He’s too tired to deal with this.

Practice ends shortly, and Louis takes his time in the locker room because he can’t face the
idea of seeing his stepdad. He considers his options; he could go home, but that’s out of the
question, he could go to a club and find someone to go home with, but he doesn’t feel like
hitting on some guy whose name he won’t remember tomorrow, he could call Zayn, try to
crash at his house for a while.

Yeah, that’s definitely the best option.

Swinging a leg over the seat of his motorbike, Louis pulls out his phone and dials Zayn

“Hey man.” He picks up on the third ring. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Hey,” Louis says, “I think you left a sweatshirt in my locker?” He invents it on the spot,
because he can’t bring himself to say, “I don’t wanna go home but I also don’t wanna be
alone.” He knows that Zayn understands.

“And you want to drop it off,” Zayn replies, obviously getting the message.

“Yeah.” Louis leans backwards, tapping his foot against the pedal. “Can I come by?”

“Sure mate.” He can hear the smile in Zayn’s voice. “See you in a bit.”
“Alright,” Louis says, ending the call. He revs up the engine just as Liam walks by, throwing
him a dirty look. He responds with a sarcastic smile, driving away.

He arrives at Zayn’s house fifteen minutes later. In the last few years, he’s probably spent
more time here then at his own home, and he’s closer with Zayn’s family than he can
remember ever being with his. So even though he’s used to it when Zayn’s mom Trisha opens
the door for him and greets him with no hint of surprise in her voice, he still feels a rush of
gratitude for the Maliks.

“Louis, hey honey,” she says warmly. “Come in, Zayn already told me you were staying for
dinner.”

Good old Zayn.

“Thanks, Trisha,” he says gratefully, smiling. He steps into the kitchen, where Zayn’s
younger sisters are setting the table. “Can I help?”

“No thanks, darling, we’re almost ready.” The moment she says it, Zayn bounds down the
stairs.

“Hey Louis.” He grins. “Funny story, I just found my sweatshirt in my closet.” God bless
Zayn, honestly.

“Really,” Louis says wryly, smiling. “I could’ve sworn I saw it in my locker.” Zayn shakes
his head.

“C’mon upstairs, we’ll be down in a bit mum.” Trisha smiles and shakes her head, waving
them off.

Louis follows Zayn up the staircase, running his fingers along the railing as he does so.

“How was practice?” Zayn asks as they enter his room, shutting the door behind them. Louis
rolls his eyes at the memory of dealing with Chris and Liam.

“Fucking terrible, you know Chris?”

“Yeah, you complain about him every day Lou,” Zayn answers, but he’s grinning.

“Payne picked a fight with him and I had to deal with it, they were unbelievable.” Louis
sighs, collapsing onto Zayn’s bed.

“Liam Payne?” Zayn asks, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah. You know him?” Louis sits up, looking at him.

“I have a class with him. He doesn’t seem like the type to pick a fight though,” comments
Zayn, sitting next to Louis.

“Yeah, he usually has a stick up his ass,” Louis scoffs. “He was like, threatening him though,
I don’t know what they were talking about.”
Zayn hums in response. “I think he’s friends with my lab partner.” Louis looks at him with
mild interest.

“Who?”

“Harry Styles?” Louis sits up straighter.

“You, uh, you know Harry?” Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, do you?” He asks, leaning backwards. Louis thinks he’s smirking slightly, so he clears
his throat.

“Not really, he’s my new English partner,” Louis explains, then adds, “But, um, he’s cool.”

Zayn’s not even bothering to hide his smirk now, and it’s pissing Louis off. “Yeah, he’s nice
enough. Really shy though.” He watches Louis carefully.

“What?” Louis says flatly, knowing exactly what he’s going to say.

“Nothing at all,” Zayn says casually, “I’m just surprised; I can’t remember the last time you
said something positive about someone at school.”

“Don’t worry, you’re still the only person I like,” Louis jokes, trying to change the subject.
Zayn smiles.

“Aw, Lou, don’t make me blush,” Zayn teases, just as Trisha calls “Boys! Dinner!” Louis
winks playfully, tugging him by the shirt off of the bed and out the door.

Once downstairs, Louis settles into his seat in between Zayn and his ten year old sister
Waliyha, who immediately begins talking about her school day. While he listens to everyone
laughing and chatting and the siblings fighting over the amount of food they should each get,
he feels a lump in his throat as he imagines his own family doing this every night. It’s not like
he feels some need to constantly be in contact with his mom and sisters but fuck, it would be
nice to spend some time with them. This is only serving as a reminder of how estranged they
are.

God, he needs to stop thinking about this. Taking a deep breath, he laughs along with
everyone else and pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind.

“You wanna stay longer?” Zayn asks later as they finish clear the table together. Louis shakes
his head.

“I should get home, but thanks man.” Zayn shrugs and grins in response, slinging an arm
around his neck as they walk to the door.

“Alright, see you tomorrow Louis,” he says. Louis waves goodbye, climbing onto his
motorbike and starting up the engine.

The ride home feels long and unpleasant and when Louis gets home, he goes straight into his
room and collapses onto the bed. It's only ten, but he's exhausted so he showers, changes into
a tee shirt and boxers and lies down. Of course, he can't fall asleep for another two hours and
he spends that time thinking about Harry, the same thing he spends most of his free time
thinking about lately.

When he falls asleep, he absolutely does not dream of green eyes and cream skin and soft
curls.
***

Louis wakes up late the next morning, again, and he can barely even muster up the energy to
care. He doesn’t even bother rushing, so first period has already started once he arrives.
Remembering how much of a bitch his English teacher had been last time he was late, he
speeds up in the hallway. He’s almost there when one of the other guys on his team behind
him eagerly calls out, “Hey Louis!”, so he turns to wave to him, not looking where he’s
going. A moment later he collides with someone and stumbles backwards, dropping his
books.

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Louis begins, looking forward and oh, shit, of course it would have to
be Harry. He tries to compose himself, but the damage is done, and Harry’s books have
spilled out of his hands as well.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Harry rushes, bending down to pick up his paper. Louis does the same,
grimacing with guilt. “I was looking at my phone, so…” he trails off, looking up so his eyes
meet Louis’s. Louis tilts his head to the side apologetically, straightening up at the same time
as Harry. Looking him over once, Louis can tell that he’s disheveled; his hair is tousled and
his cheeks are flushed are glassy. He’s probably had a rough morning as well, and Louis
cringes inwardly at himself for literally running into him.

“We should probably go in…” Louis suggests, gesturing awkwardly to the door as Harry
shifts his feet uncomfortably. Harry nods quickly, pushing hair out of his face. “After you,”
Louis adds, stepping back.

Harry gives him a shy, quick smile before stepping inside. Louis follows, wondering again
how it was possible for a person to be so beautiful.

Oh, God. Fuck. This can’t be happening.

Taking a deep breath, Louis takes his seat next to Harry. He’s already copying the notes down
on the board, so Louis pulls out his notebook and pretends to do the same, but he's unable to
focus on anything besides the boy sitting next to him.

He's writing quickly, carelessly, so he's done within five minutes. Louis smiles to himself
when he sees that he's sketching a design on the margins of his notebook, putting a
significantly more amount of energy into it than any of the class work. He's also very quietly
humming a song under his breath, probably subconsciously, and it does something to Louis's
heart.

"What song?" He asks without thinking, and Harry looks up.

"What?" He asks, sounding anxious.

"No just - you were humming, and I was wondering what song, because it was quite good,"
Louis explains. Harry blushes, and even though it's adorable Louis feels guilty for putting
him on the spot.

"Um I don't... I don't think you would know it..." Harry stammers, obviously nervous now.
Louis notices that he's bouncing his leg up and down now, but it's probably just a quirk so he
ignores it.

"Who's the artist?"

"This, uh, this band um, Twenty One Pilots?" He sounds shy admitting this, and Louis can
guess that they're probably important to him.

"Haven't heard of them, but I'll check them out tonight," Louis promises him, smiling.

"You don't have to," Harry tells him, tugging at one of his sleeves.

"Yeah, but I want to, and I always want new music," Louis says. Harry gives him a small
smile and they're quiet again for a few moments. Louis wracks his brain for something
interesting to say but all he can come up with is did you know you're the prettiest person I've
ever seen? so, no.

"Ever seen them in concert?" He blurts out. Harry glances up and shakes his head.

"I've only been to one concert, it was last year and it was The Script?" Louis shakes his head
grinning.

"No way, I saw them last year too." For the first time, Harry smiles genuinely, and Louis has
to remember how to breathe.

"Really? Where?" Harry leans back in his seat, shifting so he's facing Louis more.

"The O2 Arena? In Manchester?" Harry cocks his head to the side in disbelief.

"You're kidding." Louis shakes his head, shrugging. "Me too!"

"For real?" Harry nods, laughing. "That's so weird! Oh my god, they were amazing though!"

"Oh, incredible. When they sang How to Save a Life?" Harry nods again, leaning forward.

"And the encore?" Harry says, his eyes wide with excitement now. Louis can only grin and
nod like an idiot.

"That's so weird," he repeats, shaking his head. "Who'd you go with?"

"My older sister, Gemma," Harry says, "you?"

"My friend Zayn," Louis tells him. Recognition passes across Harry's face as Louis
remembers that they know each other.
"Malik?" Louis nods. "Oh, he's my lab partner." Louis raises his eyebrows, as if that's new
information to him.

"The coincidences are endless," he says jokingly, smiling when Harry laughs.

And then, of course, the bell rings, and Louis has never been more disappointed to hear it in
his life.

He picks up his books,then waits for Harry to get his stuff together, and they walk outside
next to each other. Once they're out of the classroom, Louis turns toward him again.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Louis asks. Harry nods, smiling. Louis touches him on the shoulder
quickly before walking down the hallway to process what just happened.

They were at the same concert. and it probably doesn't mean anything but still. It was the
same concert.

Oh, god. He can't even deny it anymore.

***

Louis says goodbye to him outside the classroom by touching him briefly on the shoulder,
and Harry smiles and waves goodbye and tries not to make it obvious that he can't breathe for
a moment.

Oh, god. Not Louis. Anyone but Louis but fuck, he can't be pining after Louis Tomlinson.
Not when there's absolutely no chance of him ever possibly feeling the same towards Harry.
He could cry with the unfairness of it all.

Then again, when was the last time the world had been fair to him?

He'd had a hellish morning- he'd been late because apparently Liam had taken it upon himself
to confront Chris, so Chris had decided to take it out on Harry. After he'd been pushed to the
ground and kicked in the chest a couple of times, they'd left him and he'd barely made it
down the hallway without collapsing.

And then Louis had showed up and he'd been so nice, so apologetic after the collision in the
hallway and just...fuck. Harry knows he's probably blowing it out of proportion, but Louis's
kindness affected him more than he cared to admit.

If he can avoid it, Harry doesn't talk to people at all (Niall, Liam and Sophia being the
exceptions). Sometimes he has to, for classwork or presentation or to ask for something, but
it's still a rare occasion and he still gets nervous every time. When he'd talked to Louis in
class it had probably been the longest conversation he'd had with someone he didn't know
well all year, and more than that, it had been easy. After the initial anxiety that had arisen at
the beginning of the conversation, they'd clicked so well together. Harry hadn't felt that with
anyone in years, probably.

He hadn't known Louis before joining his class. He'd heard name and caught glimpses of him
in the hallway and heard stories about him (he was a bit infamous at school). Judging from all
of the rumors surrounding him, Harry had figured he was probably kind of an asshole; he
heard he was conceited and rude and a womanizer. This Louis, though, was nothing like that.
He seemed a bit too good to be real, to be honest.

But no, this can't be happening. He can't be developing feelings for another person who he'll
never, ever stand a chance with. He's been here before, and it always ends badly for him. No
matter how nice Louis had been, or how good it felt to talk to him, it won't change the reality
of the situation, which is that Louis is straight, and Harry could never be good enough for
him anyway.

"Harry!" A girl's voice calls, and he turns around, smiling. Sophia strides up to him, elbowing
past several other people to do so. A few months ago they'd realized that they share a free
period, so every week they met up and spent it together.

"Hey!" He greets her cheerfully. She gives him a quick hug before linking her arm with his,
pulling him down the hallway towards the front entrance, where they usually killed time.

"Were you talking to Louis Tomlinson?" She asks once they're far enough from the crowd in
the hallway.

"Uh, yeah," Harry tells her, surprised when she scoffs. "Why?"

"He's an asshole," she states bluntly. "Last year he dated Eleanor for a month and then
dumped her the day after they had sex for the first time. And also, Liam told me he's always
picking fights with people on the football team. And he just seems like a bit of a prick, don't
you think "

"Um." Harry clears his throat, trying to process what he just heard. It shouldn't be a surprise -
of course he's dated people, Harry knew that already. "He dated Eleanor?"

"Yeah, you don't remember that?" Sophia pauses to push open the front door. "They were so
irritating together, she's my best friend but God, she was annoying during that phase. He
broke up with her over the phone, it was a disaster to deal with her." Even though he already
knew Louis was straight, it's deflating to hear. Harry shrugs as they sit down at one of the
tables, hoping she can't sense the disappointment he feels.

"I didn't know," is all he says, and Sophia grimaces.

"I hope he's not like, your new best friend and I just completely insulted him," she adds.
Harry laughs, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, he isn't," Harry tells her, smiling.

"Good, because I'd be a bit bloody insulted if he replaced me, and I imagine so would Liam
and Niall." She rests her head on his shoulder, and Harry shakes his head again.

"You guys have nothing to worry about," he reassures her. She winks, and they spend the rest
of the period discussing what she should get Liam for a three month anniversary gift.
 The rest of the day drags on, and even though he hates himself for it, Harry spends all of it
thinking about Louis. He doesn't know how much of what Sophia told him is true and worse,
it doesn't particularly affect the way he feels anyway.

So when he cuts that night, he thinks of Louis, and it's another reminder of just how
inadequate he is compared to him, of how little Louis probably thinks of him.
***

When Louis gets home that night, he looks up the band Harry mentioned and downloads both
of their albums. They're pretty good, they're more than pretty good, and Louis feels another
rush of affection for Harry.

After buying their albums he searches them up again, this time because he's genuinely
interested in them, and discovers that the Internet is obsessed with them as well. After
scrolling through their tumblr tag for a bit, he finds one of their covers of a song so he listens
to it, surprised by how much he likes it. He listens to it right before he goes to bed, so the
lyrics are still playing in his head when he falls asleep.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

Hi guys, I know it's been a stressful week for the fandom so hopefully, you'll enjoy this
chapter. Also, it hasn't been betaed yet so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Next update will be Sunday, July 26th.

Also, I just wanted to say that this chapter does talk about suicide in detail, so if that
triggers you please don't read.

AU meme for this chapter.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It’s Thursday night, and Louis is sitting in a crowded restaurant with Zayn when he makes a
decision.

“I wanna get another tattoo,” he announces to Zayn. They’ve been in the diner for half an
hour, waiting on burgers because for once, they had attempted to study together and it had
been physically draining for both of them. So much for passing every class.

Zayn looks up at him, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “Really?” he muses, “When did
you decide this?”

“Ten seconds ago,” Louis tells him, and Zayn snorts. “But it’s been too long since I got one
anyway,” he adds, gesturing to his most recent tattoo, an arrow tattoo that had been inked on
the inside of his right forearm. He raises his eyebrows at Zayn. “What do you say, Malik, you
in?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Louis, if you’re suggesting you get a tattoo tonight-”

“Which I am!” Louis interrupts.

“-then you should realize that you don’t have an appointment anywhere, so there won’t be a
tattoo parlor that’ll be able to make room for you,” Zayn finishes, just as the waitress arrives
with their food. “Thank you,” he says to her, looking away from Louis.

“Thank you,” Louis repeats, then looks away from her and back to Zayn. “Oh please, this is
Doncaster. At ten o’clock on a Thursday I bet that there aren’t people
lining up in front of tattoo parlors.”

“That... is a fair point,” Zayn admits, and Louis grins triumphantly. “What are you even
gonna get, though?”

“Eh, I don’t know, I can figure it out at some point.” Louis waves his hand, dismissing the
question. Zayn still looks skeptical, so Louis leans forward and pouts. “C’mon, Zayn, when
are we gonna have time to do this again?”

“Every time we hang out,” Zayn replies, but he shakes his head. “Louis, if you can find a
place to get it done, I’m in, but I’m not getting one tonight.”

“Yes!” Louis pumps his fist, causing a few people to glance in their direction. “Alright, we’re
finishing this and then we’re driving to Tattoo Zone,” Louis tells him. Zayn shrugs, obviously
resigned to the fact that Louis’s made up his mind.

Louis had gotten his first tattoo at sixteen, when he’d been confused and frustrated while
trying to figure out who he was. He’d been with Zayn for that also; they’d ended up driving
two hours to a tattoo parlor that didn’t ask for ID’s, because Louis had been careless enough
to forget to have a fake one made. He picked one out at the parlor; a neatly drawn stick figure
on a skateboard, purely because he liked the way it looked and at the time, he’d been really
into skateboarding.

And he’d loved it; the way it looked against his skin, the way the needle had felt piercing his
skin (despite the excruciating pain, the satisfaction of it had been overwhelming), the
reactions of everyone who saw it. Besides his mom and Mark, of course. They’d been less
than pleased, to say the least.

Despite his family’s unhappiness with it, Louis had continued to get tattoos. He’d started with
smaller ones: a lock on his ankle, a paper airplane on his wrist, “far away” written on his
bicep. Anything that sparked an interest in him, really. Gradually, the small ones had built up,
until dozens were scattered across his arms . So they’d gotten bigger: he’d inked “it is what it
is” across his chest, just under his neck, he got a huge bird on his right forearm to join the
several other tattoos there, and then a crudely drawn game of tic tac toe just above it. Then
he’d gotten an enormous stag on right bicep, and when he’d come home with it, well - it
hadn’t been pretty.

Biting his lip, Louis pushes the memory to the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to think
about that night.

“So,” Louis says, clearing his throat, “You ready?” Zayn grins, standing up. Louis tosses
thirty pounds onto the table, enough to pay for the meal and give a generous tip to their
waitress, then walks out with Zayn.

“So,” Zayn starts, opening up the passenger door to Louis’s car, “you really have no idea
what you want?”

Louis considers the question for a moment. “I was thinking, like, a dagger? I’ve seen a lot of
pictures of them and they look pretty sick…” He backs up the car, then glances over at Zayn
to see his reaction.

Zayn looks thoughtful for a moment. “That sounds cool,” he says, “they probably have some
examples of them at the place, you can check ‘em out.” Louis nods, swerving out of the
parking lot and onto the road.

“Can I play music from your phone?” Zayn asks. Louis nods, glancing away from the road
long enough to put in his passcode and handing it to Zayn.

Zayn flicks through his music selection, pausing after a moment. “Who’s twenty one pilots?”
he asks, looking up from the screen and at Louis.

“Just a band - they’re uh, they’re good,” Louis answers, not taking his eyes off the road.

“How’d you find them?” Zayn asks, obviously sensing that something’s up. Louis bites the
inside of his cheek.

“Harry told me about them,” he admits, bracing himself for Zayn’s reaction. He laughs.

“Jesus Christ, you’re whipped, Louis,” Zayn says, amused. “You bought two albums because
he told you about them?”

“Not just because of him,” Louis says, but it’s a weak argument and he knows it as he opens
his mouth. The truth is that Zayn is right; he’s absolutely infatuated with Harry.

It’s been almost two weeks since the collision in the hallway, and they’ve been talking in
class every day since then. He’s learned that Harry has an older sister who, according to him,
can be terrifying. He’s learned that Harry prefers tea over coffee and that he isn’t interested in
sports (not even football, Louis was offended to learn), and that he works in a bakery and
several other useless but fascinating facts that Louis feels like he’ll remember for years.

He’s also learned, by observation, that Harry’s shy (Zayn was right on that one), and rarely
initiates the conversation when they’re talking, and, judging by the way he usually keeps his
head ducked and holds himself so he looks smaller than he is, that he probably has low self
esteem. Which Louis doesn’t understand, because he’s probably the most attractive person
that Louis’s ever laid eyes on.

What he hasn’t managed to learn, to his own frustration, is Harry’s sexual preference. It’s
harder, because he isn’t out to Harry so all he can do is very subtly hint at the question “is
there any way you aren’t straight?” It hasn’t worked for him at all so far.

“I can’t believe you’re in love with Harry Styles,” Zayn comments, shaking his head. “All
this time, I’ve known him from physics and I never even considered you two…”

“Have you quite finished?” Louis snaps. Zayn bursts out laughing at his indignance, so Louis
tries to compose himself. “I’m not in love with him, for fuck’s sake, I just... I don’t hate him,
is all.”

“Right,” Zayn says dryly, “That’s why you bought his music. And why you jump up every
time you hear his name.” Tossing Louis's phone aside, Zayn leans forward towards him. "It's
not a bad thing, Louis, I'm honestly just curious."

They stop at a red light. Louis sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face, because he can’t admit
that he likes Harry out loud, but he can’t deny it either. “It doesn’t matter, Zayn, I’m not
expecting anything to come out of it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Alright,” Zayn says, but he’s still smirking slightly. “I think you two would be great
together, now that I think about it...”

“Jesus Christ, give it a rest,” Louis says irritably, putting an end to the conversation. Zayn
shrugs and turns on an Ed Sheeran song, but Louis can tell he hasn't forgotten.

It's just...this is new to Louis, being attracted to someone in this way. Sure, he's gone on a few
dates and there have even been a few guys he referred to as his boyfriends but truthfully, he'd
been almost complete indifferent to all of them. They'd been distractions, like pawns in a
game for when he wanted to feel like he was rebelling against his stepdad or when he was
sexually frustrated or when it was a Saturday night and he had nothing better to do than go
out with one of them. It was the same with all of them, and by the time the inevitable breakup
rolled around, he couldn't even find it in himself to care.

Then there have been the one night stands. Those have been great - they were easy, they were
fun, there were no expectations more than just a quickie in a bathroom stall or, occasionally,
in someone's bedroom. For Louis, it's always been easy to pass as older than he actually is, so
he usually goes home with a university student, and he never has to worry about seeing them
around after they've finished up. There's never any stress involved with those - no need to
worry about dates or meeting families or feelings.

And then, of course, the girls. Louis's actually only had two official ‘girlfriends’; the first
being Hannah, one of his friends when he was younger. He'd asked her out when he was
fourteen, mostly because a lot of the other boys in his grade had started to notice girls and he
hadn't wanted to be left out. They'd dated for about a year, and she'd eventually ended it
because “you just don't seem like you like me very much.” To Hannah's credit, she'd been
right.

Eleanor Calder was Louis's final, half-hearted attempt at heterosexuality that had ended
disastrously. They'd dated when he was almost seventeen and he'd just started to realize that
maybe it was possible that he wasn't interested in girls at all. But she'd been right there, and
she was popular and beautiful and she liked him so Louis just figured what the hell? They
were young, right? They could be stupid?

They spent about a month together; a month of chaste kisses and hand holding in the school
hallways and dates to Starbucks, but nothing more. At least until one night, when his family
went on vacation for a night and he made the mistake of inviting her over. They'd started
kissing and, well, it had spiraled from there.

Sleeping with Eleanor hadn't been bad, per say, it had been more disconcerting than anything
else. It certainly hadn’t felt the way that Louis knew it was supposed to feel, and it had
confirmed his fear about his sexuality. So after she left his house the next morning, he
decided it wasn’t fair to either of them to keep dating. The mistake he’d made was breaking it
off with her on a phone call that didn’t even last a minute, especially since he couldn’t find a
valid excuse. Oh well. C’est la vie.

And now Harry shows up, with his green eyes and his smile and his jokes and Louis has
completely lost it. None of the other guys he’s been with have made him laugh the way Harry
has, none of them have made him nervous the way Harry does, certainly none of them have
consumed the amount of his thoughts that Harry has. And, well, he can’t ignore that kind of
infatuation, and shit, it’s bloody terrifying.

Thankfully, they arrive at the parlor then, and Louis is momentarily able to forget about
Harry. He walks in with Zayn and isn’t surprised to see that it’s completely empty, save for
the guy behind the counter. Louis walks confidently up to him, placing his hands on the
counter.

“Hey,” the guy says flatly, looking him over quickly. He’s probably in his early twenties and
he’s pretty hot, with the piercings and the tattoo sleeve and the eyeliner. Louis could be into
that. Even though at the moment, all he likes is wide green eyes and dimples and soft curls.

Anyway. Moving on.

“Hi,” Louis replies. “Do you have any pictures of dagger tattoos? That you could do like,
tonight?” Without responding, the guy pulls out a thick binder and flips carelessly through
the pages, before pushing it forward towards Louis.

“Thank you,” Louis says, before turning to Zayn. “Help me pick one?’ Zayn nods, stepping
forward.

“I don’t know man, some of these are really ugly…” Zayn comments quietly, pointing out a
cartoon-style dagger piercing an obscenely huge rose. Louis hums in agreement, flipping the
page.

“Here!” Louis almost shouts triumphantly, jabbing his finger at one of the drawings on the
next page; a delicate, intricate dagger. He looks up at the
man behind the counter, smiling politely.

“Excuse me, sir, but can you do this?” He points to the drawing, shifting the book so he can
see it. The guy nods curtly.

“Yeah, it’ll be two hundred fifty pounds though.” Louis shrugs. It’s not his money, after all.

Won’t Mark be glad that his millions are going to a worthy cause?

“I need your ID before I start too,” he adds. Louis pulls it out and slides it across the counter.
After a brief glance, the man hands it back to him and gestures for him to walk.

Louis follows him into the back room, Zayn walking right behind him. He’s been through
this before, so he sits casually on the chair, waiting for the guy to finish preparing his ink and
needles.
“Can I have it, like, right here?” Louis gestures to his left forearm, in a spot where he hasn’t
yet gotten any tattoos. The man nods.

“Now, I can tell you’ve been through this before-“ the guy pauses to gesture to Louis’s other
tattoos, and he nods proudly, “-but I’m still gonna give you the drill. This might hurt, it’ll
take about half an hour, and I need you to sign this contract before I start, that just says that
you won’t sue me if something goes wrong.”

The first time he got a tattoo, Louis had looked the whole document over to ensure that it was
all legal and safe. Now, he scribbles his signature at the bottom of the page and hands it back
to the man confidently.

“Are you sure you don’t want a rose to go with it?” Louis looks up, confused. When the man
sees how lost he is, he starts to explain.

“A lot of people get the dagger and the rose together. They match,” he tells him. Louis shakes
his head.

“Just this is fine.”

“Alright,” the guy starts, picking up the needle and slipping on the rubber gloves, “you need
to stay as still as possible.”

Needles have never bothered Louis, and he actually likes them when he’s getting tattoos. As
it pierces his skin, he finds it satisfying instead of painful, and he enjoys the sensation. It’s
over rather quickly, and Louis is immensely happy with how it looks as the man wraps plastic
around it.

“Thank you so much,” Louis tells him, handing over his credit card. The guy swipes it,
glancing back at him once.

“Alright again, I know you’ve done this before but I’m still gonna tell you how to care for it.”
Louis nods, even though it’s information he already knows. “Take off the plastic after about
one to two hours, wash it lightly with mild soap but don’t soak it, and pat it down with a
paper towel only. Don’t use ointment or sunblock on it, and do not touch it, or let anyone else
touch it. Don’t re-bandage it, and if it starts to flake, don’t touch it at all.” Louis listens
carelessly, admiring it from all angles. “Here, just take this.” The man thrusts a pamphlet
labeled “Tattoo Care” at him. Louis takes it before standing up.

“Well, thank you very much,” Louis says, extending a hand to him. The guy shakes it, giving
him a small smile.

“Take care,” he says, and Louis waves lazily before exiting with Zayn.

“That does look pretty sick, mate,” Zayn tells him, observing the tattoo.

“I told you so,” Louis says smugly, grinning at him. Zayn smiles reluctantly.

“Well, I am glad we had this adventure, but I should get home now.” Louis nods, approaching
his car.
“Ok,” Louis says, swinging his car door open, “I’ll drive you.”

They're quiet for the remainder of the ride, but it’s a comfortable, content silence, like he’s
always been able to have with Zayn. When he pulls up in front of his house, he turns to say
goodbye.

“Thanks for coming with me to do that,” he says gratefully.

“Eh, it was fun, man,” Zayn says calmly, grinning. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”’

“Yeah,” Louis says absently, watching him climb out of the car. He waits for Zayn to shut the
door before revving up the engine and making his way back to his house.

Everyone is asleep when he arrives home, which isn’t surprising. It’s also a relief. Louis head
upstairs, straight for his bathroom so he can deal with the tattoo.

After showering and then washing it, Louis practically falls into bed. Sleep comes easily, for
the first time in ages, and he welcomes it.

***

Waking up the next morning is a pain in the ass, due to his stinging arm and headache. He
considers not going to school, but then he remembers a threat Mark had given him a few
months back. Drop out of school and you’re out on the streets. And as much as Louis would
love to not care about that, he can’t be homeless. He just can’t. So, he drags himself out of
bed and into his car and to the parking lot of the school, and before he knows it he’s sitting in
the back of his first class.

The morning is mildly easy - he gets tons of compliments about the dagger, which is always
enjoyable, and it’s not until his history class that the day starts to go downhill. His teacher
calls him up to the desk, and he can’t help but feel an impending sense of dread as he
approaches.

“Is something wrong?” he asks bluntly, not bothering to act polite.

“Tomlinson, do you realize you’re failing?” Mr.Griffiths says flatly, staring at him. Well,
Louis was right to dread this.

“How is that possible?” he says, even though he knows that with his academic record, it’s
extremely probable. Griffiths launches into an explanation of his homework and his failed
exams but Louis isn’t listening.

Fail another class and I won’t pay your tuition.

Drop out of school and you’re out on the streets.

He feels sick.

“…so if you keep it up this year, we can’t move you up to year 11 and if you keep it up next
year you won’t graduate,” Griffiths finishes. Louis nods and says something about how he’ll
try harder, and than walks back to his seat without waiting for another answer.

When class ends, he leaves the building. He can’t take another two periods, even if it means
seeing Harry at the end of the day. So he gets into his car and starts driving towards town,
unsure of what he’s gonna do.

Oh god. He can’t fail, he can’t get kicked out, not when so much depends on him staying in
school. He hates how much he relies on Mark’s money, but fuck, he’s eighteen years old. He
can’t be homeless, not right now.

You’re also a legal adult, he thinks bitterly, which doesn’t do anything to help him.

Fuck Mark and his manipulation.

Louis realizes that he’s right at the edge of town, so he pulls over and steps out of his car. He
has a pack of cigarettes, which is guaranteed to help him relax, even if it’s brief.

He must stay there a while, because he’s onto his third cigarette when his mother calls.
Sighing, he presses accept and holds the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he says, unsure of why she’s calling.

“Hey, love, where are you?” she sounds tired, and Louis feels a rush of sympathy for hey.

“Um - driving home from school,” he lies, flicking the butt of the cigarette to the ground.
“Why?”

“Can you do me a huge favor?” He groans internally, dropping his head back. “Mark’s having
a small work party tonight, can you pick up some cookies for us? Is there any way?”

“I - sure, mum,” Louis says defeatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you so much sweetheart, you have no idea how helpful this is.” The relief in her
voice makes him feel a little bit better about doing something for Mark.

“See you later,” he says, before hanging up.

Alright then, Louis thinks bitterly, time to find some fucking cookies.

***

Louis doesn't show up to class that day. Which is fine. It's not like Harry was waiting for him
or anything like that.

But even though he can ignore the fact that he was quite literally watching the door for Louis,
he can't ignore the fact that for every day over the last two weeks, talking to him in class has
been the best part of the day for Harry.

They've become friends, kind of. For the last two weeks, they’ve been talking in class every
day, and it’s been... nice. Which is much, much more than Harry can say about pretty much
anything else in his life.

In some ways, it’s incredible; like when his stomach hurts from laughing at something Louis
said in class or when they’re talking fondly about The Script concert or when they find yet
another thing they have in common and they spend forty minutes discussing it thoroughly. In
other ways, it’s awful; like when it hits Harry that there is no chance of Louis ever possibly
feeling the same for him, or when he realizes that eventually, Louis, like everyone, will get
tired of him or annoyed by him and drop him, or when he’s pressing cuts into his skin
because this stupid crush he has is serving as a reminder of how completely inadequate and
worthless he is.

Those are the times that makes it seem not worth it.

So despite the disappointment, it’s a bit of a relief when Louis doesn’t show up, so he spends
English the way he spends most of his classes: keeping his head down and not speaking and
waiting for the bell to ring. When it finally does, he hurries out quickly and is practically
tackled once he’s in the hallway. Out of reflex, he flinches away, until he sees that it’s just
Niall, bouncing enthusiastically on his toes.

“Harry! There you are, I’ve been waiting out here for ages!” Niall says dramatically, draping
an arm around his shoulders.

“You should’ve been in class,” Harry points out, half smiling.

“Free period.” Niall shrugs, leading him down the hallway. “But you’ve gotta come to Liam’s
after school today, we feel like it’s been ages since we’ve all hung out, mate.” Harry feels a
pang of guilt hit him. It’s true, most of the time when they invite him over he fakes an excuse,
when the reality is that he can’t seem to find it in him to drag himself out of his house and
interact with people. Regardless, he’s a terrible friend.

“I would, Ni, but I’m working today,” Harry says truthfully. He has a job at one of the
bakeries at the edge of town, about a ten minute walk from school and a twenty minute walk
from his house. Niall sighs.

“Fine, but you need to promise to hang out with us this weekend, we miss you Harry!” he
whines.

“I’m sorry,” Harry answers quietly, because he is, and he has no idea what else he can say.
Niall squeezes him on the shoulder.

“It’s ok, we aren’t mad or anything, we just don’t like not seeing you.” Niall pauses in front
of Harry’s locker, waiting for him to gather his homework.

“Ok, we can hang out soon,” Harry promises, knowing it’s probably not going to happen. It
satisfies Niall, though, because he starts talking about some golf match he watched and drops
the topic all together.

Harry bids Niall goodbye in front of the school so he can walk to work. The bakery job is
easy; make cupcakes or cookies if they run out and be in charge of the cash register. Luckily,
no one ever comes in, so he just needs to stand behind the counter and make sure that there
are enough baked goods in stock.

When he arrives, there’s a girl there finishing the shift before his. She waits for him to go into
the back room and pull on his apron, (required uniform, according to the owners) before
shedding hers and sauntering out.

Harry puts his headphones back in and sits down on the stool behind the counter, leaning
against the wall. It’s only a two hour shift, and he spends most of it flicking through his
phone carelessly. At one point a mother and her toddler come in and buy cupcakes, but that’s
it. There are ten minutes to closing time when the door bursts open, followed by a familiar
voice.

“Hey, do you have any-“ Louis stops in front of the counter upon recognizing Harry. He tilts
his head to the side, grinning slightly. “Harry. Hi. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Oh, god, he’s wearing a fucking apron. Harry feels his cheeks heat up, but he ignores it.
“Hey, uh, yeah, I work here.”

“Yeah, that’s right, you told me you work in a bakery,” Louis says absentmindedly. Harry
nods, and there’s a moment of uncomfortable silence in which Louis clears his throat.

“Is that, uh, is that a new tattoo?” Harry asks, gesturing to a design on his arm. Louis looks
down at it and then smiles, holding up his arm to show it off.

“Yeah, like it?” Looking closely, Harry can see that it’s a dagger.

“Yeah, it looks great,” Harry says truthfully. Louis smiles proudly.

“Thanks, mate.” He pauses, looking around for a moment. “Any chance I can get, like,
twenty chocolate chip cookies?”

“Oh, um, we ran out of those earlier,” Harry tells him apologetically. Louis shrugs.

“Thanks anyway.” He turns to leave, but Harry stops him.

“I could, um, if you wanted, I could make some,” he stammers. He doesn’t even know why
he’s offering, and Louis’s probably not going to want to wait for him, but it’s out there now,
so Harry bites his lip and waits for a response.

“You don’t have to do that,” Louis says, “You probably wanna get home…”

“it’s not a problem,” Harry tells him. Louis raises his eyebrows.

“That would actually be really helpful…” Harry nods, a little too enthusiastically probably.
“If you wanna help you can,” he adds, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Yeah, definitely,” Louis says, following him into the back room. “I don’t know how to bake
though, so I’m counting on you to tell me what to do.”
Harry laughs, nodding. He pulls another apron off the wall and hands it to Louis, who puts it
over his tee shirt without complaining. As Harry pulls out the bowls and ingredients, Louis
looks around.

“So, how long have you worked here?” he asks him, walking up next to him at the table.
Their shoulders brush, and it affects Harry more than it should.

“About a year,” Harry answers, dumping a cup o flour into the first bowl. Louis nods,
watching him as he starts to pour the baking soda out. “Can you preheat the oven to three
hundred seventy five?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says easily, strolling over to the oven. He stands there for a moment,
then looks back at Harry. “How do you…”

“Turn the knob to three hundred seventy five,” Harry instructs as he puts in the salt, biting his
lip to keep from smiling. Louis does it successfully, and he walks back over looking
immensely proud.

“Ok,” Harry starts, breaking an egg onto the second bowl, “Can you pour the sugar into this
cup?” Louis does, then hands it to Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry pours the first bowl into the second, then hands Louis a beater. “Now can
you whisk this together while I clean up?”

Louis clears his throat, looking up at Harry. “How do you whisk?” he asks, completely
seriously.

“Seriously?” Harry asks, laughing. Louis grins sheepishly, nodding. Harry dumps the
wrappers into the bin, then was back to Louis and takes the whisk.

“Just like, beat it together.” Harry shows him, circling the whisk quickly around the inside of
the bowl. “You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t know how to bake.”

“Alright,” Louis says indignantly, but he’s laughing. “You may be a better baker than me, but
I’m sure I have a talent that you don’t.” Harry raises his eyebrows while scooping the batter
onto a cookie sheet.

“Like what?” he challenges playfully, shoving the cookie sheet into the oven. Louis looks
thoughtful, but he’s still smiling.

“Football,” he answers, a grin spreading across his face.

“I’ll give you that,” Harry laughs.

“Alright, Harry, I will repay you for this baking lesson with a football lesson.” He’s
completely serious, and he sticks out his hand to make it official.

“Deal,” Harry answers, taking his hand. For a moment, they stand like that, until Louis pulls
away.
“Where were you today?” Harry questions, before panicking. God, that was such an an
intrusive question, and now it looks like he was waiting for Louis (which he kind of was, but
still), and Louis is probably going to hate him for it.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers easily, and Harry’s relieved that he doesn’t seem to care. “I just didn’t
feel great, sorry for abandoning you.”

“No problem,” Harry shrugs, smiling shyly. Louis starts to stack the bowls in the sink, and
they stay quiet until the timer goes off.

“Do you want one right now?” Harry asks as he pulls out the cookies. “They’re really good
fresh…”

“Absolutely,” Louis says enthusiastically, walking to the fridge. “Do you want milk?” Harry
nods, watching as Louis pours two glasses and hands one to him.

“Cheers,” Harry says, handing Louis a cookie.

“Cheers,” Louis repeats raising his cup to Harry. A moment later, he bites into it and gasps.
“Oh, fuck that’s hot!”

“Yeah, should’ve warned you.” Harry laughs as he downs the entire glass in one gulp. Louis
shakes his head, laughing.

“Thank you so much, Harry,” he says as he takes piles the rest of the cookies in a gift box.
‘You saved my life.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says, smiling shyly at him. Louis picks up the box, looking around the
room.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asks. Harry shakes his head.

“I can walk.”

“No, where do you live? I’ll drive you, it’s the least I can do.” Harry relents, because he’s
tired and he doesn’t wanna argue with Louis.

“It’s like a five minute drive from here, it’s the first house outside of town on Hilltop Road.”
Louis nods.

“Ok, that’s in my direction anyway.” Louis pushes the door open, waiting for Harry to walk
through. Once they’re outside, Harry lets him lead him to his car, (which is a fucking
Lamborghini, it turns out), and he climbs in the passenger seat.

“So, I just need to cross this bridge up here, right?” Louis asks, swerving onto another road.
Harry suddenly feels very, very sick.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. Louis must notice a change, because he glances over at Harry. He
smiles weakly, digging his nails into the fabric of his jumper.
A few minutes later, Louis pulls up in front of Harry’s house. Harry pulls his bag up from his
feet, turning towards him.

“Thank you Louis,” he says, opening the door.

“Yeah, of course.” Louis smiles. “Thank you for the cookies.” Harry smiles before stepping
out of the car.

Louis drives away once Harry shuts the door. After he’s gone, Harry leans against the wall.

He’d been fine until the bridge. Harry swallows, thinking back to the last time he was there,
about a week before he met Louis.

He’d just been having a really, really bad day. Chris was being particularly awful, he’d
embarrassed himself by screwing up an oral presentation, and when he was with Liam and
Niall he’d withdrawn himself so much that they gave up on trying to get him to talk
eventually.

His mom had been on a business trip, so the house had been empty when he got home. Of
course, he’d immediately sank to the ground in his room and reached for the razors but even
when he had fresh cuts all the way up to his elbows on both arms and his bathroom floor was
stained red, it still hadn’t been enough.

So he’d gone back to the same desperate, bitter question he asked himself frequently: What’s
the point? And, like, always, there hadn’t been an answer.

He had thought about killing himself before then. It was a constant wish; no matter what he
was doing, talking with his friends or walking home alone or lying awake, unable to breathe
from anxiety, he wanted to die. Suicide had seemed like a vague, unreachable plan; he always
wanted to do it but it never really seemed possible. But right then, it seemed like the only
possible solution. Get it over quickly, end all the pain. Then suddenly, it was the only
possible solution.

He’d always considered how he would do it if he ever got around to it. He ruled out
overdosing, because he didn’t know where he could find any drug or pill strong enough to
kill him. Hanging himself or slitting his wrists seemed like it would be easy, but he didn’t
want his mom to have to find him like that. So he decided that jumping from somewhere
would be the best option - it would be quick and easy and his family or friends wouldn’t have
to be the ones to find him.

Shaking slightly, he pulled himself off the ground and pulled on a jumper and jeans. The
denim rubbed uncomfortably into the new cuts on his his thighs and he let them, enjoying the
pain. Heart racing, he stuffed the razors into his drawer where he always kept them, then
pulled out a pile of envelopes that were shoved into the back.

He’d written suicide notes to the people he cared about a while back, figuring that he
wouldn’t even make it to the end of the year alive. He didn’t know what he expected, but
there hadn’t been much to say in them. He wrote one for his mum, Gemma, Niall, Liam and
Sophia, and they had varied a little bit but they had all said more or less the same thing; I’m
so sorry, I love you, please don’t blame yourself. What else can you say about something like
that?

By that point, it was dark out already. He left the notes on the table, hoping his mom would
already have heard about it before she got home, so it wasn’t too much of a shock. He knew
that it was for the best, and that it would make life easier for all his friends and family, but he
also knew that they would be hurt at first. He was an awful person for doing this to them, but
he had to. There was nothing else that would help.

The bridge was about a five minute walk from his house. At that point he wasn’t thinking
anymore, and a sense of calm had sort of come over to him. In a few minutes, it would all be
over. Harry walked a little bit faster.

And then he was there, standing at the front of the bridge and watching cars dart underneath
it. He walked slowly, carefully, towards the edge. He was fenced in by a short, cement
railing, but he could climb over it easily. It wouldn’t be a problem.

So he stepped over the fence. And then he was standing there, on the other side of the railing,
shaking. The panic had started to set in, as he considered what he was about to do.

He looked down at the cars below, watching the lights fade into the distance. Oh, god. Oh,
god, he was going to kill himself. Bizarrely, he was reminded of the scene in Titanic when
Kate Winslet was hanging off the boat.

Except this wasn’t a movie, and no one was gonna save him now.

Then he’d been interrupted. “Hey, kid!” someone had yelled, startling him so much he almost
let go. He turned sharply to see who it was, and it turned out to be a guy in a pick-up truck.
He was in his thirties, probably, and his eyes were wide with concern.

“What are you doing?” he asked. Harry didn’t answer because, well, how? I’m trying to kill
myself. No.

“Look, kid, I can’t let you do this,” the guy said, watching him carefully. “Climb back over.”
So Harry did, because he didn’t know what to say to argue with him.

“Alright,” the guy said, obvious relief written on his face. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m, uh, I’m just gonna get home,” Harry rushed, embarrassed and frustrated. Jesus Christ,
he couldn’t even kill himself without fucking up.

“Alright,” the guy sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “But promise not to come back once
I leave?” Harry nodded, immensely grateful that he wasn’t going to push him further.

So he walked home, waiting until he was through the door to fall apart. Because what was he
supposed to do? He couldn’t kill himself, he couldn’t stay alive, he was a complete mess of a
person. By then, he was too exhausted to even cut that night, so he just collapsed into bed.

The next day, he’d laughed with Niall and Liam and done his work in class and walked home
alone, and nothing was different, except that now he had a suicide attempt to add to his
 endless list of failures. He hasn’t tried again since then, being too afraid of getting caught
again, even though he still thinks about it constantly.

This is why Louis could never like him. He’s a fuck up, he’s worthless, he’s an absolute
disaster and he doesn’t deserve someone like Louis anyway.

Tears pricking the back of his eyes, he heads upstairs to his room. He has the razors to fall
back on.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

Happy belated 5th anniversary to the five best boys in the world❤

Enjoy!

AU meme for this chapter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On a Friday afternoon, Harry is preparing to leave school when Niall ambushes him from
behind.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that,” Harry says weakly, pushing him off and leaning against his
locker. Niall shrugs in apology.

“Sorry mate, but me and Liam need to talk to you.” Harry’s immediate reaction is panic -
Niall is mad at him, or Liam, or they’ve just grown tired of dealing with all his problems and
emotional baggage and they’re finally moving on. As irrational as he knows it is, there’s still
cold fear in his stomach.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asks, shifting his books in his arms uncomfortably.

“Well, there’s a party tonight, that some guy in my chem class is throwing, and Liam heard
about it too, and you have to come with us,” Niall states, bouncing alongside Harry as he
walks down the hallway. Well, on the bright side, Niall and Liam aren’t too sick of him yet.
On the other hand, they’re asking him to go to a party. Niall might as well have asked him to
go enlist tonight.

“Niall…” he begins, preparing to make up an excuse for why he can’t make it. Before he can
come up with anything, Niall jumps in.

“No, don’t even bother Harry! I told you, that you had to hang out with us this weekend, and
you said you were free starting Friday night, so don’t pretend you have a family dinner or
something, because I know you’re lying.” Harry swallows. The real answer is that he had
meant he was free to crash in one of their basements and play video games, and a crowded
house party full of other students from their school is probably one of the most terrifying,
unbearable, anxiety provoking situations he can imagine, but he doesn’t know how to explain
it to his best friend without sounding like a freak.

“Ok,” he relents quietly. Niall cheers.

“Yes! Ok, Liam’s gonna drive us tonight, and Soph is coming too I think, and bring clothes
because we’re just gonna crash at his house afterwards.” Harry nods, but he’s already
considering every possible way it will go wrong, and wondering how he’ll be able to get
through it without a breakdown.

“Hey!” a voice calls down the hallway, and both Harry and Niall turn to see Liam jogging
towards them. Niall waves enthusiastically, gesturing him over as if he was planning on
walking somewhere else. Liam steps in between them, placing a hand on both their
shoulders.

“Hey guys,” he says cheerfully, looking between them, “you guys good?” Harry knows the
question is meant exclusively for him, but he appreciates Liam’s effort to cover it up.

“Great!” Niall answers happily, while Harry nods, “Harry’s in for tonight!” It’s not a surprise
to Harry that Liam looks skeptical - he’s always been better than Niall at picking up signals.

“The party?” he asks, frowning slightly. Niall nods vigorously, but Liam has already turned to
look at Harry.

“You don’t need to look so surprised, Liam,” Harry jokes pathetically. Liam rolls his eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Harry,” Liam says with disdain, and Harry shrugs
because clearly, it was, but he doesn’t want to argue right now. “Well,” adds Liam, clearing
his throat, “we’re glad you’re coming. I’ll pick you up at eight, and then we’ll go to the party,
and then you can come back to my house?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry agrees, even though he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to do anything less
in his entire life. Niall grins, throwing an arm around Harry’s neck.

“Ok, well, this is great, but I have to go,” Niall informs them, as Harry and Liam stop at
Liams car, “I’ll see you tonight.” He smiles brightly before sauntering off in the other
direction.

Wasting no time, Liam turns towards Harry, frowning. “Do you really wanna go tonight?” he
asks, sympathetic and understanding. Harry can’t help but feel a bit offended - he didn’t think
he seemed that pathetic and fragile but obviously, Liam thought he was.

“I mean, sure, you guys wanna go, right?” Harry answers, avoiding the question. Liam
presses his lips together, tilting his head to the side in disbelief.

“We don’t have to go Harry, or you don’t have to.” He leans against his car, waiting for Harry
to respond, then adds, “Just don’t feel pressured.”

“It’s fine,” Harry lies, because he doesn’t want to disappoint them. Liam looks unconvinced,
but he doesn’t push it any further.

“Ok,” he sighs, “You want a ride home?”

“Thanks,” Harry says gratefully, pulling open the passenger seat. Before stepping in, he spots
Louis across the parking lot, walking towards his car. They make eye contact for a brief
moment before Louis smiles and raises his eyebrows in a greeting. Harry gives him a quick
wave before looking away and stepping into Liams car. If Liam notices, he doesn’t say
anything.

Harry hasn’t told him or Niall about Louis yet, and has no plans to anytime soon. Or anytime
at all. It would be too pathetic to admit that he has a desperate crush on someone so
unattainable, and he doesn’t want to have to deal with the pity they would undoubtedly give
him for it. Besides, he knows that nothing is going to come out of it anyway, and there’s no
point in dramatizing the situation for no reason.

Neither Harry or Liam say anything for the duration of the drive, so Harry stares out the
window. It’s grim and overcast, threatening a rainstorm any minute, and Harry hopes that the
inevitable storm will be powerful enough to annul the party. His thoughts are interrupted a
moment later by Liam.

“Did you wave to Louis Tomlinson when we got into the car?” he asks, as if he’s just now
processing it. Harry bites his lip, considering how to answer the question.

“Um, yeah,” Harry tells him cautiously, waiting for a response. Liam furrows his eyebrows,
looking away from the road long enough to look at him. “I know him from English,” Harry
explains, waiting nervously for Liam’s reaction.

“Hm,” Liam says, nodding absentmindedly. Harry rolls his eyes, tilting his head at Liam.

“What?” he asks flatly, “I know you want to say something.” Liam purses his lips.

“Well, I know him from the football team and I thought he was a bit of an asshole,” Liam
states bluntly, “But if you say he’s nice…”

“I never said he was nice,” Harry defends himself, even though it’s a lost cause, “and Sophia
said the same thing about him, so you’re probably right.”

“Alright, Harry,” Liam says, even though he has a very knowing look in his eyes. Harry sighs
heavily, closing his eyes for a moment.

Liam drops him off with a quick hug and the promise that he’ll pick him up at eight. He
hesitates after he tells him that, and Harry knows that he’s waiting for him to admit that
there’s nothing he wants to do less than go tonight, but he doesn’t say anything. He can’t
inconvenience his friends again.

So he had five hours before he has to be ready to leave. It isn’t nearly long enough.

***

Liam and Niall are supposed to arrive in five minutes, and Harry’s already had a panic attack.

For him, they don’t happen as frequently as he knows they do for a lot of other people. He
guesses he’s lucky in that sense. And when they do happen, it only lasts about ten minutes.
But it’s ten minutes of hyperventilating, ten minutes of feeling like his heart is going to burst
out of his chest, ten minutes of shaking uncontrollably and intense nausea and his skin
burning. So, maybe not so lucky.

He picks himself up from the floor, where he was slumped against his bed, and runs his
fingers through his hair. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Harry grabs his bag and heads
downstairs to wait for them.

Liam pulls up at exactly eight, with Sophia in the passenger seat and Niall in the back. They
all greet him enthusiastically, Niall throwing an arm around him when he sits down next to
him. Harry smiles back at them, but he can’t talk because he truly thinks he’s going to be
sick. Fuck, this was such a bad idea.

The drive is far too short, and it’s all too soon that Liam is parking the car in front of the
guy’s house. With a heavy sense of dread in his stomach, Harry opens the door and climbs
out.

“So, just a few things to remember,” Liam begins as he walks towards the door, wrapping an
arm around Sophia. She laughs as she leans into him, standing on tiptoes to kiss him on the
cheek. Niall rolls his eyes in mock disgust at the two of them, but Harry feels a genuine
twinge of jealousy, and he finds himself thinking about Louis again.

“First, I’m the designated driver, but don’t drink too much because I’m not dealing with that
at my house tonight.” He glares at Niall as he says this, and Niall widens his eyes innocently.
“Second, don’t separate from each other too much, in case we need to leave.”

“Thanks, dad,” Niall teases, bounding up the steps to the house. Heart pounding, Harry
follows Liam and Sophia inside.

The second he steps inside, Harry knows he’s made a fatal mistake. It’s packed with other
people, the kind of people who Harry would never dare talk to, all of them laughing loudly
and dancing drunkenly. The air is hot and thick and full of smoke and it’s overwhelmingly
loud, shrieks and music filling the air. It’s all too much, too daunting, and Harry can’t do this.
He needs to get out of here right now. He tries to steady his breathing and he doesn’t even
realize it, but he’s digging his nails into the skin on his wrist in between bracelets when Niall
grabs his arm.

“Let’s get a drink!” he shouts, tugging Harry through the crowd. Harry has no choice but to
follow miserably. He glances backwards and sees Sophia pull Liam into the crowd with her,
winding her arms around his neck and swaying to the music.

Oh, God. He’s alone with Niall and as much as he loves him, Harry can’t think of a worse
person to be trapped with during a crowded party. After pushing his way through dozens of
people, Niall stops at a long table in the back that’s littered with beer cans and plastic cups.
Niall grabs two unopened cans of beer and shoves one into Harry’s hand, popping his own
open and taking a long swig. Harry doesn’t even bother pretending to drink from his, but he
ends up gripping it so tightly the aluminum crushes in.

“ ‘ey! Horan!” somebody yells, their voice drunken and slurred. Niall swings around to look
at them. He must see someone he knows, because he waves enthusiastically, before turning
back towards Harry.

“C’mon, these are some guys I know, they’re sick!” he yells.

Oh, fantastic. More people.

Grabbing Harry by the wrist, Niall tugs him in the other direction.. On instinct, he pulls away,
but he follows Niall across the room anyway, shrinking as much as he possibly can.

“Lads!” Niall shouts excitedly, stopping abruptly in front of Harry. There are three other guys
there, who Harry vaguely recognizes, and all of them cheer loudly when Niall approaches,
clapping him on the shoulders aggressively. They all look wasted out of their minds and
Harry truly thinks he’s about to be sick.

“Do you want a shot?” one of them shouts, pointing to Niall, who nods vigorously. He then
points at Harry, who’s so startled at being addressed that he doesn’t even get an answer out
before the guy is pouring vodka into five dirty shot glasses, then handing them out to each
one of them, including Harry.

“On three!” he says loudly, raising his glass. “One… two… three!” All of them toss it down
except for Harry, who dumps the glass onto the ground when no one is looking. He’s seen
enough shitty teenage films to have picked up on that trick.

Harry does another scan of the room, unsure of what he’s looking for. He’s never been to a
party like this, having always prefered to stay holed up in his bedroom and isolated from
others, but this is remarkably close to how he had imagined it. Somehow, on the other side of
the room he spots Louis, which, just, of course. He shouldn’t be surprised that somehow, the
universe would find a way to slip in another source of anxiety for him and yet, when he first
sees him it’s a cold, unwelcome shock. Louis’s talking to a blonde girl and laughing, flicking
his loose fringe out of his eyes as he says something. Harry can’t see the girl but he can
assume she’s beautiful, from the way Louis’s whole face is alight with a smile. As he
watches, she reaches up and settles a hand on his shoulder, and Louis doesn’t bat an eyelash.

Oh, God. It’s all too much, the heat and the smoke and the crowd and Harry needs to get
away right now. Something very close to terror rises in his chest, crushing in on his lungs and
pounding in his head and if he doesn’t get out it will threaten to take him over.

“I’m gonna step outside for a second,” Harry yells hoarsely to Niall, who nods.

“Come back soon, mate, don’t disappear on us!” He responds. Harry looks around
desperately for an escape, spotting a back door about fifteen feet away. Without hesitation, he
shoves his way past several people and pushes open the exit, letting it swing and slam shut
behind him.

The night air is cold and thick, and Harry has never been more relieved to feel anything in his
life. He looks around, taking in the setting. It’s rather depressing; the deck is painted a dull,
red color that’s chipping away to reveal cheap splintered wood that creaks underneath his
footsteps. A single porchlight hangs above him, flickering faintly. The porch looks out on an
empty field of dead grass, and the sky and stars are clouded over; the rainstorm is still
impending. It’s an eerie, uncomfortable sort of house, but this is far better than the interior.

Harry takes a few strides towards the steps, then sits carefully down on the top one. It creaks
underneath his weight, but other than that it’s stable enough, so he relaxes and leans against
the railing.

Fuck, this was such a mistake. He knew that he couldn’t handle it, he already had a sense of
what he could take in terms of social situations and this was absolutely not a question. He’s
so fucked in the head, it’s just a fucking party, he shouldn’t be freaking out and he certainly
shouldn’t be leaving his friend, who only wants and deserves to have a good time and
shouldn’t even have to be putting up with Harry, following him around desperately and
unable to talk to other people and getting worked up over nothing.

God, it really would be infinitely better if he was gone.

His self pity is interrupted when he hears the door swing open. He jumps, preparing to leave
and then stops.

It’s Louis, (of course it’s fucking Louis, he can’t ever get away from him), looking down in
surprise at Harry. He’s wearing tight black jeans and a dark loose tank top, holding a beer can
in one and a sweatshirt in the other. His hair is falling carelessly across his forehead but he’s
so unfairly attractive, and, not for the first time, Harry feels pathetically inadequate next to
him.

“Hey,” Louis says, guiding the door shut behind him, smiling casually.

“Hi,” Harry replies. Louis steps forward and gestures to the stairs, as if asking permission to
join him, and Harry sees no other response than to nod and shift to the side to make room for
him.

“So you hated the party too?” Louis says shrewdly, looking over at Harry. His eyebrows are
raised and there’s a playful smile across his lips, and Harry relaxes slightly.

“Yeah.” Harry laughs dryly, his eyes flickering from Louis’s face down to his chest. The shirt
he’s wearing is low cut and reveals a cursive tattoo that Harry never noticed inked across
Louis’s chest, although he can’t quite make it out.

“I’ve never seen you at one of these,” Louis comments.

“Yeah it’s um - these aren’t really my thing,” Harry stammers, cheeks heating up. Louis
shrugs.

“What changed your mind today?”

“Some of my friends wanted me to come,” he explains, “Why are you here, if you hate it?”
“Free booze,” Louis says seriously. Harry watches as he reaches into the back pocket of his
jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He extracts one and puts it between his lips.

“You smoke?” Harry says, a hint of distaste in his voice. Louis looks at him, plucking the
cigarette from his lips.

“Yep,” he answers shortly, “Why, you want one?” Harry shakes his head, and Louis easily
lights it, inhaling deeply.

“Have you ever tried?” he asks, taking a drag. Slightly ashamed, Harry shakes his head. “So
how do you know it’s disgusting?”

“I didn’t say it was-”

“I know you thought it.” Louis cuts off his attempt to defend himself, cocking his head to the
side. He exhales another cloud of smoke before looking back at Harry. “You wanna see for
yourself?”

“Sure,” he replies, because what the hell? He doesn’t care enough about living to worry about
the health effects it has, and anyway, he might as well try it.

Smiling slyly, Louis pulls out another cigarette and hands it to Harry. "Put it in your mouth,"
he instructs, so Harry raises it to his lips and holds it between his teeth.

"I'm gonna light it now,” Louis tells him, bringing the lighter up. Harry’s watches the flame
dart in front of him before Louis catches it on the end of the cigarette and lights it. “Alright,
now you have to breathe in, hold it in for as long as you can, and let it out.”

Harry tries to listen, he really does, but the second he breathes in the smoke it burns his
lungs, and he hacks it up. He looks back at Louis, who’s obviously trying very, very hard not
to laugh.

“Fuck, that’s disgusting,” Harry gasps, coughing again. Louis shakes his head, but he’s
smiling warmly, and it’s making it even harder for Harry to breathe.

“It’s normal to cough your first time, but if you don’t wanna do it anymore than don’t. I
encourage you not to, in fact, don’t get addicted.” Harry nods, tossing it onto the dead grass
and stamping it out with his shoe. When he looks up again, Louis is watching him, and it’s
making him intensely self conscious. He pushes his hair out of his face, shivering from the
cold air.

“Are you cold?” Louis asks, not taking his eyes off of him.

Harry shrugs. “ ‘m fine,” he answers. Louis looks down, then holds his sweatshirt out
towards him. “I’m fine,” Harry says again, even though his heart is pounding at the idea of
wearing Louis’s sweater.

Jesus Christ. Get a grip.

“Just take it Harry, it’s fine,” Louis presses, and because he doesn’t feel like arguing, Harry
takes it. It’s too big on him, but it’s comfortable and warm and it feels stupidly good to be
wearing it. Harry smiles gratefully, tugging the sleeves up.

“Thanks,” he says shyly. Louis smiles.

“No problem.” There are a few moments of heavy, long silence, in which Harry shifts
uncomfortably.

“How, um, how’d you get here?” Harry asks, interrupting the quiet. Louis leans back,
frowning slightly.

“I came with Zayn, and some guys from my football team drove us,” Louis tells him, “but I
have no idea where they are now.” Harry frowns.

“So you aren’t going home with them?”

“I don’t know, my plan was to just find someone with a car and get a ride…” Louis falters
when he sees that Harry’s staring at him, unimpressed. “What?”

“That’s not a good plan, Louis, everyone’s drunk,” Harry tells him and yes, he’s probably
overstepping and yes, he’s certainly being annoying and intrusive, but he also genuinely hates
the idea of Louis, and Zayn for that matter, getting into some wasted teenagers car, so he
thinks he has the right to be a bit pushy.

“Do you have a suggestion, Styles?” Louis says, a hint of a smirk playing across his lips.

“Just ride with my friends, we’ll drop you off,” Harry says. Liam isn’t gonna be thrilled, but
what’s done is done, right?

“Seriously?” Louis asks, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the dirt. Harry nods. “Ok,
thanks.” Louis smiles. It crosses Harry’s mind that Liam won’t be thrilled, but oh well.
What’s done is done.

***

All that Louis can think about is how much he wants to kiss Harry Styles.

It’s overwhelming, excessive how powerful it is. While sitting across from him now, studying
the shape of his lips as he talks, the desire for it is slamming Louis.

He wonders vaguely if Harry’s ever kissed anyone. Probably - after all, he’s sixteen and
beautiful and just so all around attractive that Louis would be surprised if nobody’s at least
tried to kiss him before. On the other hand though, he’s definitely one of the more innocent
teenagers, and it wouldn’t surprise Louis too much if he still has yet to have that experience.

He’s probably a virgin, Louis finds himself thinking, and then stops because no. He can’t sit
here, right next to Harry and try to figure out his sexual history. There’s something so wrong
about that.
Find out his sexuality! Louis thinks, and ok. That’s acceptable. He considers the best way to
subtly bring up the topic and is still mulling it over when the sky opens up.

“Fuck!” Louis shouts, jumping up on reflex. It’s an absolute downpour, and Harry pushes
himself up from the steps after Louis. They glance at each other before both standing up and
rushing a few feet until they’re standing underneath the roof of the deck, soaking wet.

Even after a few seconds in the rain, they’re drenched. Louis shakes his hair out in vain as
Harry does the same, tugging at the bottom of Louis’s sweater. Harry looks up at him,
looking half distressed and half amused, and they stare at each other before both laughing in
disbelief.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis says, shaking his head. Harry is still laughing and Louis is too, at this
point, but he also doesn’t take his eyes off of him.

Harry is so, so achingly beautiful. Even with his dark curls hanging damply around his face
and drops of water clinging to his delicate eyelashes and wrapped in Louis’s oversize
sweatshirt (which is kind of adorable), he’s still the prettiest person Louis’s ever seen.
Kissing him would be so easy, and if he were a braver person, he would do it right now.

If this were a movie, Louis thinks, they would already be kissing right now. It’s the typical
setting for a first kiss, and the rain would be the final touch to it and Louis would lean
forward, pushing Harry’s loose curls out of his eyes and brushing his fingers across his fair
skin and kiss him, tender and passionate. And Harry would, of course, kiss him back,
wrapping his arms around Louis’s neck and pulling him in closer.

But it’s not a movie, and the reality of the situation is very, very far from that of a fairytale.
Louis looks away from him, because he doesn’t know how much self control he has and he
can’t ruin this.

Louis opens his mouth to speak when the door bursts open and they both turn to look. It’s
Liam Payne, holding hands with a girl who he guesses is Sophia and practically dragging
along a blonde boy who doesn’t look sober enough to stand.

“Harry, there you are,” Liam says, “Niall’s smashed, and we all wanna leave, are you ok with
that?”

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” Harry replies, “but, um, can you give Louis a ride too?” Liam looks
over at him in surprise, as if he hadn’t noticed him before, and Louis grimaces at him.

“Seriously?” Liam says tiredly, looking at Louis with disdain. Harry nods and shrugs
apologetically. “Fine,” Liam says shortly, glaring at Louis, “but we’re leaving now.”

“Fine by me,” Louis replies cooly, “but I have to get Zayn first.”

“I’m not driving you both-” Liam begins hotly, but Louis cuts him off.

“Relax, Payno, you’re dropping him at my house too.” Liam rolls his eyes at the nickname,
but sighs.
“Then get him and hurry up.” Now it’s Louis’s turn to roll his eyes, but he pulls the door
open and steps inside.

Louis spots Zayn easily, only a few feet away talking to a group of cheerleaders. He strides
towards them, tapping Zayn on the shoulder.

“Hey, Louis.” Thankfully, he’s sober enough to function.

“Hey, we have to go.” Zayn furrows his eyebrows.

“Why?”

“I found a ride home,” Louis explains, gesturing to the door, “but c’mon, they’re leaving
now.” Zayn waves briefly to the girls, who all look very disappointed, and turns to follow
Louis.

“Who are we going with?” Zayn questions as they push through the crowd.

“Uh… Harry Styles and some of his friends,” Louis says casually, ignoring Zayn’s laughter.
Louis pushes the door open, and is relieved to see that they’re still waiting for them.

“Alright, are you ready now?” Liam asks irritably, looking between Louis and Zayn. Both of
them nod, so he gestures for them all to follow him.

The rain has stopped, so the air is cool and crisp and Louis wouldn’t mind his sweatshirt
back, but Harry looks cute in it and he doesn’t want to draw attention to the fact that the
younger boy is wearing it, or else Zayn would never let him live it down. So, he bites his
tongue as Liam stops in front of what must be his car, pulling the drivers door open.

“Are you even old enough to drive?” Louis questions as he climbs into the back. Liam scowls
darkly at him through the rearview mirror.

“I’m sixteen, and I got my license early,” Liam says haughtily.

“Just checking,” Louis says airily. And then Harry takes a seat next to him, and he forgets to
think of another retort for Liam.

The drive is quiet and filled with tension, and it almost makes Louis want to laugh. He’s
picked up that Sophia obviously doesn’t like him, probably having heard Liam’s stories about
him, which is fine. He doesn’t care what they think.

“Just stop here!” Louis says suddenly, when they’re still in the middle of the road about ten
feet from the gates to his house. He doesn’t want to have to deal with four people seeing his
house for the first time - the reactions usually include gaping and telling him how lucky he is,
and he can’t do it right now.

“Um, ok.” Liam pulls the car over to the side of the road, watching him curiously through the
rearview mirror. Louis gestures to Zayn to get up.

“Thank you,” Zayn says loudly, obviously encouraging Louis to do the same.
“Thanks,” Louis says, mostly for Zayn’s benefit. And Harry’s of course. Louis looks back at
him before getting out.

“Bye,” he says quietly, to only Harry.

“Bye,” Harry responds, smiling. Louis realizes he’s still wearing his sweater, but he doesn’t
bother asking for it back. He smiles back at him before climbing out behind Zayn.

As the car drives away, Zayn hooks an arm around Louis’s neck and starts to walk in the
direction of his house. “Was he wearing your sweatshirt?” he asks, amused.

“Yeah,” Louis admits, too tired to lie. Zayn smirks at him.

“You were out there for a long time, what were you guys doing?”

“We were just talking,” Louis says, which is the truth. Zayn sighs, exasperated.

“Are you ever gonna admit that you like him, Louis?” Zayn looks at him carefully, watching
for a reaction. Louis could tell him - it would be very, very easy to admit that in the last three
weeks he’s fallen for Harry Styles. But it would also make it real, and unavoidable, and he
isn’t ready for that yet.

“Nothing to admit, my friend,” Louis says easily. And he so wishes it was true.

***

Harry wakes up early the next morning, thanks to Niall moaning about his headache and how
bright the light is. He sits up on his air mattress on the floor (only Liam would set up two air
mattresses in his room with no supervision), and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“What the hell even happened last night?” Niall asks thickly. Liam and Sophia are both
sitting up on Liam’s bed, looking at him through unsympathetic eyes.

“You got totally wasted and I had to drag you home,” Liam says crossly. While he waits for
Niall’s reply, Harry realizes he fell asleep in the clothes he’d been wearing the night before,
including Louis’s jacket.

“Sorry, mate,” Niall says weakly, “I can’t defend myself.”

“Good,” Liam says shortly, but he’s smiling now. “And also, is that your sweatshirt, Harry?”

It’s more of an accusation than a question, and Harry bites his lip while trying to think how to
respond. “Um, no,” he finally admits, propping himself up on the pillow.

“How did you end up in Louis’s sweatshirt?” Liam asks flatly. Niall looks around, obviously
lost.

“Louis who?”

“Tomlinson,” Liam answers, turning away from Harry for a moment.

 “What the fuck did I miss?” Niall wonders aloud, but this time everyone ignores him.

“Well, it was cold, and he offered it to me, and I took it,” Harry says, irritation rising in his
throat. He can’t have this conversation right now, not when he’s barely awake and there are
three people looking at him expectantly.

“What’s going on with you guys, Harry?” Liam says finally, eyes wide.

“We’re friends,” Harry deadpans. Liam raises his eyebrows, and even Sophia looks skeptical.

“Wait, you like Louis?” Niall asks, looking around for some kind of confirmation. Nobody
takes their eyes off of Harry.

“No, I - we’re friends,” Harry says desperately, looking at them pleadingly to drop the
subject. Thankfully, Liam doesn’t say anything else, but he looks highly unconvinced as he
stands up and heads towards his bathroom.

Sophia slides off the bed onto Harry’s mattress. “You know it was really obvious,” she says,
her voice low. Harry gives her a withering look.

“I’m just saying,” she smiles innocently, “And it’s not just you. He’s totally into you too.”

“No he’s not,” Harry says quietly, because that’s impossible. There’s no way Louis would
ever feel the same way, and he has no reason to believe Sophia is right about that. He can’t
get his hopes up like this, not when heartbreak and disappointment are so inevitable.

“Harry, I am really good at these things. I was the one who set up Niall and Amy,” she
reminds him.

“And they broke up after two weeks,” Harry informs her, and she shrugs.

“The point is, they liked each other at one point, and I could tell that. I think you should ask
him out.” With that, she pushes herself up from the bed, leaving Harry wondering what could
possibly make her think that could be true.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

So so sorry for not updating, I had lots of stuff going on but I'm back now! :)

Thank you to Jane for betaing on such short notice, she's amazing.

Enjoy!

AU meme for this chapter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On Monday morning, Harry comes into school feeling unbearably nervous about seeing
Louis again. It’s not as if he thinks something will have changed, but at the same time,
thinking about Louis felt different after the party. It was the most they’d talked, after all, and
he had worn his sweatshirt and it just felt like there had been some sort of shift in the
dynamic.

He’s also kept repeating Sophia’s words, trying to make sense of them. He’s totally into you
too. He’s considered it from every angle, thought about it to the point of obsession, and
there’s no possible way she could be right. Louis’s just a really lovely person, but just
because he’s not a complete asshole doesn’t mean that he likes Harry? He’s also straight, as
far as Harry knows, which is almost easier, in some ways. He can blame the fact that Louis
doesn’t like him on his sexuality, not on the fact that he deserves much better than Harry.

But, regardless, Harry's heart is still pounding when he walks into English and Louis is
already sitting there, leaning back in his seat. The sweater that Harry borrowed is folded
neatly in his bag, after having been washed and dried. He figured the least he could do was
clean it before returning it.

“Hey,” he says timidly, approaching Louis, who looks up and smiles.

“Hey,” he replies warmly. Harry takes a seat next to him, and busies himself with taking out
his books before grabbing Louis’s jacket, dusting it off quickly before handing it to him.

“Thanks, again,” Harry rushes, “I washed it and everything so…” He trails off because Louis
is looking right at him, with soft eyes and a warm smile and he can’t breathe, much less talk.
“... so, um, yeah,” he finishes pathetically, wincing internally at his own idiocy.

“Thanks.” Louis takes it, shoving it into his bag underneath the table. “You didn’t need to do
that.”
“It was no problem,” he says, which is true. Louis shrugs in gratitude, then turns his attention
back to the classwork. Harry does the same, but every so often he glances over at Louis to see
if anything in his demeanor has changed. It hasn’t, of course, and he blames Sophia for
letting him feel even the slightest bit hopeful that Louis might like him.

***

The next few days pass with no spectacular events. Niall and Liam haven’t mentioned Louis
again, although they’re heavily hinting at it during every conversation and Harry knows it’s
only a matter of time before the interrogation. Chris and his friends continue to torment
Harry, and Harry continues to cut in order to cope with it, but nothing changes.

Although, he and Louis have settled into a stable sort of friendship. They still chat easily in
class and on a few occasions, Louis’s walked with Harry to his locker or next class,
depending on what period they have English the next day, but more often than not, the
conversations end as soon as the bell rings. Harry’s not surprised; Louis holds a much higher
social status than he does, and it would be more surprising if he did try to talk to Harry
outside of English, but it still stings a bit when he walks away.

As for Harry’s feelings, they’ve only gotten worse and Harry anticipates that they can only
get worse from here. He blushes and stutters and laughs through every conversation with
Louis, then he goes home and drives himself crazy by thinking about him for ages. It’s a
rather deflating crush to have, what with Louis’s heterosexuality and Harry’s lack of sex
appeal, and he’s found that he either leaves English on cloud nine or feeling desperately
hopeless. He also figures that it’s very, very obvious at this point (after all, Harry’s never
exactly been good at being subtle with these sorts of things), so he’s not particularly surprised
when Liam finally loses his willpower to keep quiet.

“We need to talk about Louis Tomlinson, Harry!” he announces one day, about a week and a
half after the party. They’re crammed onto a battered couch in Liam’s basement after school,
Liam and Niall having convinced Harry to join them to play video games. Liam pauses it,
tossing his remote onto the cluttered table in front of them and turning towards Harry.

“That came out of nowhere,” Harry comments, stalling on the real question. He’s sandwiched
between the two of them and they’re both staring at him expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“No it didn’t, you switched to that class four weeks ago and now you’re best friends,” Liam
says bluntly. “Just tell us what’s going on?”

Harry sighs. “What do you want me to tell you? We’re friends, I guess.” Liam stares at him,
unsatisfied and unimpressed.

“Why you always look so happy when I see you talking to him in the hallways, why you
were wearing his jacket, why you get all nervous if you walk past him,” Liam supplies,
cocking his head at Harry.

“I don’t get nervous-” Harry tries to defend himself, but Niall cuts him off.
“You kinda do, mate,” he answers, shrugging apologetically. Harry slacks his jaw, looking
between them.

“Why do you think, Liam?” he snaps. Niall blinks, surprised by his aggression.

“So you are interested in him,” Liam says calmly. Harry takes in a sharp breath.

“I don’t - I mean, I’m not stupid, I don’t, like, think that we’re gonna date or anything,”
Harry says desperately, but to Liam and Niall, it’s just a confirmation of their suspicion. Niall
leans back with a smirk while Liam looks smugly satisfied. It’s kind of infuriating to Harry.

“You could’ve told us,” Niall says, sounding almost hurt. Harry shrugs, at a loss for what to
say.

“I thought you hated him, Liam,” Harry points out. Liam nods.

“I mean, I do, but like, I trust your judgement,” Liam says seriously. Harry huffs out a laugh.
“I do think he’s straight though,” Liam adds hesitantly, as if Harry didn’t already know that.

“Hey, you never know!” Niall says optimistically, but Harry shakes his head.

“No, I think he is, and it doesn’t, ya know, it wouldn’t change anything if he wasn’t,” Harry
says flatly. Niall pats his shoulder sympathetically.

“Eh, it won’t matter on your wedding day anyway.” Sure, Harry thinks, but he smiles
appreciatively at Niall’s attempt to cheer him up.

About an hour later, Harry heads out with Niall to the bus stop, who’s chattering about some
golf team he’s a fan of. In the middle of his monologue on different types of clubs or golf
balls or visors, Harry honestly doesn’t know, Niall looks at him seriously.

“Ya know, say what you will about Louis, but I don’t think he’s straight,” he proclaims,
watching for Harry’s reaction.

“You and Sophia,” Harry mutters. Niall blinks.

“You told Sophia but not me and Liam? Harry!” he wails, so dramatically that Harry has to
laugh.

“I didn’t tell her, but like you guys, she got involved without being asked too,” Harry tells
him, “And why does it matter, I thought we were past this.”

“It matters because you two would be good together!” Niall tells him, almost yelling now.
Harry tilts his head in confusion.

“You’ve seen us interact once, Niall, and you were drunk out of your mind.” He rolls his
eyes. “I’m literally begging you to drop it now.”

“Ok, fine, but let me say one thing!” Niall begs. Harry sighs irritably, raising his eyebrows. “I
see you guys when you walk out of class together, and Liam’s right, you do look happy when
you’re talking to him. And so does he.”

“Well thank you for making that great point,” Harry snaps, “it didn’t change anything though,
so…”

“Fine,” Niall says defeatedly, “but Sophia also has good judgement, you should trust her.”
Harry grimaces and nods absently, signifying the end of the discussion. Perhaps Niall accepts
Harry’s stubbornness on the topic, because he picks up right where he left off on his golf
review.

The next day is cold and bleak, so Harry spends his free period with Sophia in the library. He
tries to listen to her talk about some fashion reality show she was watching last night, he
really does, but it’s an impossibly dull topic and his mind keeps drifting back to last period,
where he and Louis had spent the period having a heated but hysterical argument on what the
best Disney movie was (Harry said The Lion King, Louis said Peter Pan), during which
Harry had laughed more than he probably had in the last month. He’s probably laughed more
since he met Louis than he has in over a year, now that he thinks about it, and he’s not sure if
he likes the thought or is terrified of it.

His pining is interrupted by raised voices in the hallway. There’s already a small crowd
gathering at the door, and he exchanges a quick glance with Sophia before shrugging and
standing up to go check it out.

He really shouldn’t be surprised that Louis is involved, because for the past month Louis has
somehow found a way to be involved in everything, but it still startles him to see Louis
standing in the middle of the hallway across from one of the geography teachers. His head is
tilted to the side and he has a sort of cocky, careless smirk on his face as the teacher shouts at
him.

“I don’t know what could possibly make you think that it would be okay for you to cut my
class in order to go to the bathroom and get high, Tomlinson-”

“That wasn’t weed,” Louis interrupts nonchalantly, “it was just a cigarette. I sincerely hope
you know the difference, sir. Also, I would never waste my weed in the school building.”

The teacher grits his teeth, a vein pumping in his neck, and Harry wonders how Louis is
standing his ground. “You know what, Tomlinson, you might think you’re better than
everyone else here, but you’re just another piece of white trash.” Louis raises his eyebrows
mockingly. “I’m not even going to bother to punish you for this; it’ll be enough once you fail
my class and can’t move up a year.” He steps forward threateningly, but Louis doesn’t react
at all. “You won’t amount to a thing,” he snarls, then storms back into his classroom.

There’s a moment of silence before the crowd that was watching scatters back into the
library, Harry and Sophia included.

“So that’s your boyfriend,” Sophia says after a few moments, sounding almost impressed.

“He’s not-” Harry begins, before realizing correcting her would be in vain. “Don’t you hate
him?”
“Yeah, kinda,” she admits, “but you obviously don’t. And that little scene just made me hate
him a little less.”

“Why? I would think that you’d find him even more of an asshole.” Harry frowns.

“No, well, I think he is an asshole. But also, Mr. Cohen was treating him like shit; even Louis
doesn’t deserve that.” There’s a pregnant pause, and Harry waits for her to say something
else. “Mostly, though, it made me see how he can be an asshole with some people, but not
others.” She smirks expectantly at Harry. When he stares blankly back at her, she presses her
lips together.

“Harry, he was so nice to you at that party. And whenever you talk to him after class. Guys
like Louis, who put on that tough guy act all the time don’t do that for anyone. Like, when we
drove home, he would make those sarcastic comments to Liam, and then he would turn
towards you and he’d get this sappy look on his face, it was embarrassing.” Harry purses his
lips.

“Can you give it up? He’s straight, Liam thinks so too-”

“Oh, please. Liam’s a great guy and boyfriend, but he’s absolute shit at picking up signals. I
had a crush on him for four months and I flirted with him so much before I asked him out
since he obviously wasn’t getting the hint.” Harry actually considers this for a moment, while
Sophia watches him carefully.

“Soph, thanks for the concern, but me and Louis aren’t you and Liam, so, no. And stop
bringing it up please? It’s not helping me get over him.” Harry looks over at her pleadingly.
She runs a hand through her hair, looking at him with something a little too close to
sympathy.

“Ok,” she agrees, leaning in to hug him. “I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head, wrapping his
arms around her. When she pulls away, she starts complaining about schoolwork, and Harry
nods along with what she’s saying, but he’s still far, far away.

***

Harry doesn’t see Louis again for the rest of the day and by the time the final bell rings, he’s
almost forgotten about seeing him earlier in the hallway. He heads towards the front door,
about to leave when he spots Chris and his group of friends a few feet in front of the building,
clearly in the midst of a conversation. There are only a few other people besides them, and it
would be impossible to get past them unnoticed. Harry swallows before turning around and
hurrying inside unnoticed.

He walks towards the back exit, which is further from his house but he doesn’t care at this
point. The door is propped open, and when he walks through it he’s surprised, (but also, not
really), to see Louis leaning against the wall alone, lit cigarette held loosely between his lips
and staring forward with empty eyes.

Harry’s not sure if he should say anything, because Louis looks like he might want to be left
alone, but he turns towards Harry and they make eye contact, so he clears his throat.
“Hi,” he says nervously, watching Louis carefully. He blows a cloud of smoke out of his
mouth and Harry coughs slightly.

“Hi,” Louis says, expressionless. Harry shifts awkwardly, wondering if he should just leave.

“Are you, um, alright?” Harry asks without thinking. He bites his lip, wondering if that was
too intrusive. Louis huffs out a humorless laugh, but it’s more surprised than cruel.

“Why do you ask?” Louis says, raising his eyebrows. Harry shrugs, glancing down. “Is it
because you were there earlier, in the hallway?”

Harry blushes. “N-no.” Louis cocks his head to the side in disbelief, smirking slightly.

“No need to lie, Harold,” he teases.

“Um, I- your teacher was an asshole,” Harry stammers, “and, um…” he trails off, looking up
at Louis anxiously. He has a surprised, slightly amused smile, which is something of a relief.
After all, there are a significant number of worse reactions he could have had.

“Thanks,” Louis says airily, “he was. I’m fine though.” Despite his light tone, there’s a hard
look behind his eyes that suggests it might have affected him more than he cared to let on, but
Harry’s not going to overstep that much and besides, he’s been in the same position enough
times to know that Louis won’t want to talk about it.

“Where are you headed?” Louis asks suddenly, interrupting Harry’s thoughts.

“Just, um, back to my house,” Harry answers.

“You want a ride?” Louis offers, shrugging. Harry blinks in surprise.

“It’s fine,” he says, but Louis waves a hand nonchalantly.

“My house is in that direction anyway, remember?” He’s right; Harry recalls the day Louis
drove him home from the bakery a few weeks ago. “Also, I owe you from the party,” Louis
adds, cocking his head sideways smugly.

“Ok,” he agrees, somewhat reluctantly. Louis grins, and bounds down the stairs, gesturing for
Harry to follow. He catches up to Louis just as he flicks the end of his cigarette onto the
cement, not even bothering to stamp it out.

“One thing I didn’t tell you though,” Louis says, turning towards his with a sly grin, ‘this
time it’s not a car.” When Harry stares at him in confusion, Louis points forward at a fucking
motorbike, of all things, parked just outside of the football field.

Harry stares at him. “I can walk, I’m not riding that thing,” he tells Louis flatly.

“No, it’s great, I promise you,” Louis protests. He grabs Harry’s arm to pull him towards it,
and Harry enjoys the physical contact as long as possible, until Louis’s hand slips just below
his elbow and he jerks his arm away on instinct. The jumper he’s wearing is made of fabric
that’s too thin and maybe it’s paranoia, but he doesn’t want Louis to be able to feel the raised
cut marks through his sleeve. Louis obviously notices, because withdraws his hand almost
immediately, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“No, Louis, don’t thousands of people die on those each year?” Harry argues pathetically,
even though that’s the one thing that doesn’t bother him about riding. Louis shrugs carelessly.

“More people die in car accidents,” he points out, waving a hand dismissively. “C’mon, it’s
not scary, and I’ll be the one driving it anyway, and I’ll feel bad if I make you walk home.”

“I walk home every day,” Harry tells him, which Louis ignores.

“Are you in?” Louis asks, head cocked hopefully to the side. Harry hesitates, so Louis
presses harder. “Even if you hate it, you’ll at least have the experience.”

“Fine,” Harry sighs after a long pause, too tired to argue, and Louis grins, satisfied.

“Great,” he says, before yanking open a large box hooked to the back of the motorbike,
which Harry guesses is the ‘trunk’. “You can dump your bag in here-” Louis pauses to toss
his own into it, “and then I’m gonna get on first and you climb on the back, ok?”

Harry nods, feeling ridiculously inexperienced. He watches as Louis easily throws a leg over
the seat, shifting forward so he’s closer to the handles. He’s so effortless in the way he
moves, Harry realizes, not just right now but every time he strides down the hallway, or
throws his head back with laughter, or even when he’s failing to whisk cookie batter.

Ok. Enough with that. At least for right now, when Louis is mounted on a fucking motorbike,
waiting for Harry to join him.

“Alright?” Louis asks as Harry places his bag on top of Louis’s, shutting the trunk carefully.
He nods, taking a few steps forward and attempts to copy Louis in the motion of swinging his
leg over the side. He loses his balance slightly and ends up grabbing onto Louis’s shoulder
for support, releasing it once he’s sitting firmly on the leather seat.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from Louis. They’re already sitting impossibly close,
and as much as Harry is thoroughly enjoying it, the last thing he wants is for Louis to be
uncomfortable. He pushes himself backwards slightly, gripping the back of the seat for
stability.

‘It’s fine,” Louis answers. “It’s good, in fact, because you’re gonna have to hold on to me for
the rest of the ride.” He glances back at Harry with a smile, and if Harry didn’t know better
he would swear that Louis was flirting.

Of course he’s not, Harry tells himself, don’t be stupid. Regardless of Louis’s intentions,
though, he smiles shyly and cautiously wraps his arms around Louis, grabbing onto the
sleeves of his jumper as he does so and intertwining his own fingers.

Oh, god. Maybe Harry’s being naive, but they fit perfectly, his arms slotting around Louis
with no effort or tension or stiffness. This is the closest, physically, that they’ve ever been,
and Harry feels himself inadvertently relax against Louis’s shoulders.
“You don’t have any helmets?” Harry asks him, leaning back slightly so he doesn’t seem too
eager.

“Mm, no, sorry mate, I don’t usually wear them and I didn’t expect this,” Louis replies.

“If it’s inconvenient you don’t have to-“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Louis says, and that’s the end of the discussion.

When Louis revs up the engine, Harry jumps on reflex. It’s louder that he expected, and his
arms tighten around Louis unintentionally.

“You ready?” Louis yells, laughter in his voice.

“Yeah!” Harry shouts, grinning. Louis pulls out of the parking space carefully, and even
though Harry’s heart is pounding he doesn’t think it’s from fear at all. Riding the motorbike
itself isn’t too scary, in fact - it’s much more stable than Harry expected and Louis is driving
it slowly right now, and it reminds him of riding a bicycle when he was younger.

It changes when they get onto the road and Louis speeds up. Harry’s heart is racing now,
maybe from adrenaline or maybe from fear or maybe, probably from Louis, but he’s certainly
more alert now. Wind tears through his curls and the noise of it is deafening and intense. It’s
not as terrifying as he imagined, quite the opposite, and he doesn’t realize it but he’s grinning
as they speed down the road.

At some point, Harry isn’t sure when, he must drop his head onto Louis’s shoulder, because
when Louis pulls up in front of his house he’s leaning against it. Immediately, he straighten
up and pulls away from him. His heart skips a beat when he sees how far his sleeves have
moved up but thankfully, Louis doesn’t seem to have noticed.

“So? What’d ya think? We didn’t die, that seems promising,” Louis teases as he steps off the
motorbike and opens the trunk, pulling out Harry’s bag for him. Head spinning, Harry steps
shakily off the bike, still gripping the seat for stability. While attempting to flatten his
windswept hair, he reaches for his bag and smiles.

“It’s normal to be dizzy, you get used to it,” Louis informs him. Harry nods, his head still
ringing. “Did you like it though?”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits. Louis grins shrewdly, slamming the trunk shut.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’, but…” Harry laughs and swings his bag over his
shoulder, taking a step back.

“Thank you so much, Louis,” he says, smiling fervently at him. Louis shrugs lazily.

“No problem,” he says warmly. Harry glances down and smiles at him once more before
turning to go inside.

“Uh, wait Harry?” Louis calls, stopping him. He turns around in surprise. “I know we, um,
had homework for English, but I don’t think I completely got it, so is there any way I could
get your number? Just to, ya know, confirm it?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry says, quickly, stepping back towards Louis. He holds out his
phone, the contact profile already open. When Harry punches in the digits his hands only
shake slightly.

“Thanks,” Louis says lightly, taking it back and pocketing it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.”
Harry waves briefly before walking back inside quickly, only so Louis won’t see that he has
to bite his lip from smiling too hard.

***

After dropping Harry off and arriving back home, Louis does the only thing he can think to
do during a crisis; he calls Zayn. The phone rings twice before he hears a tired voice say
“Hello?”

“Oh, Zayn, thank God,” Louis says gratefully. He hears Zayn sigh heavily.

“What do you want, Lou, I have three essays due tomorrow.” Louis runs a hand through his
hair.

“Ok, um, I need help.” He takes Zayn’s silence as permission to keep talking, so he does just
that. “You know how a little while ago I told you I didn’t have anything to admit about
Harry?”

“Yeah…” Zayn says slowly, and Louis can tell he’s smirking.

“I, ehm, might have been lying.” Zayn doesn’t respond right away, so Louis forces himself to
go on. “I might possibly be interested in him.” Even though he knows that in the grand
scheme of things, this isn’t particularly important, and that a teenage crush isn’t something to
be getting worked up about, he holds his breath as he waits for Zayn to respond. It’s been so
long since he felt this way about someone and even longer since he admitted it and it’s nerve
wracking, it really is.

“Louis,” Zayn begins, “that’s literally the least surprising thing I’ve ever heard.” Louis
blinks. “I mean, you were practically eye fucking him that whole party.” Louis scowls at the
phone.

“I -” he sighs, falling backwards onto his bed and scrubbing a hand over his face. “What am I
supposed to do, Zayn?”

“I dunno, Louis, grow a pair and ask him out? Do you know if he’s into guys?” Louis can
hear the exasperation in Zayn’s voice.

“No, I don’t,” Louis answers shortly. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of dating him
yet - the only thing he’d been able to imagine was getting over him, somehow, and even that
seems increasingly unlikely.

“Well, find out, and then propose to him,” Zayn says dryly. “Look, I really do wanna help
you out, Lou, but I can't focus right now. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“Fine,” Louis sighs. “Thanks anyway.”

“Glad you finally came out with it Louis,” Zayn says, “See you tomorrow man.”

“Bye,” Louis replies, before ending the call. He knows it’s unfair to be frustrated with Zayn,
but he’s suddenly overwhelmed with his infatuation for Harry and he needs to get it all off of
his chest and the fact that his best friend is blowing him off is only slightly irritating.

He glances back at his phone, opening his contacts and scrolling down to Harry’s. Texting
him would be easy and after all, he did say that he needed the English homework (which was
a lie, of course, but hey, it worked). And it’s safe to say they’re friends, so it wouldn’t be too
unusual.

Jesus Christ, he’s a mess.

Instead of texting Harry, he ends up sending a message to Zayn, asking for assistance. Should
I text him?, it reads, and it only takes twenty seconds for Zayn to respond.

Are you 12 years old? it says, before he sends another message.

Yes, it won’t kill you to text him. Louis rolls his eyes, ignoring the first message and, before
considering it, opening a new chat with Harry.

Hey, it’s Louis, any way I could get that homework? :) he types, then sends it before he can
overthink it. He lets three minutes go by before he starts checking his phone every few
seconds to see Harry’s read it, and he’s impressed with himself for even waiting that long.

Twelve minutes later, (not that Louis was counting, or anything), a response comes through
while Louis is scrolling through Instagram, and he almost drops his phone when he sees.

Yeah, it’s just to finish the draft from class today and then read chapter 9. Ok. Well, he
isn’t ignoring him at least.

Thanks! Louis types quickly, before setting his phone down beside him. Harry probably
doesn't want to talk and if he does, he’ll continue the conversation himself.

It’s a surprise when his phone buzzes again and it’s from Harry.

Is there anything else you need?

You, Louis thinks with frustration, as he begins to type another response.

A basic understanding of that class haha, he types, only partially joking. Harry’s response
comes two minutes later.

Use this, it has everything you need for the essay on it, it says, with a link attached. It turns
out to be document consisting of a list of what Louis can only assume are the important plot
points of the book. He spends a few moments scanning it before returning to the texts.
Louis starts to type, then changes his mind halfway through the message and erases
everything he’s written. He taps on Harry’s contact and hovers his thumb over the call button,
before shrugging carelessly and tapping it. It takes one long, tense ring for Harry to pick up.

“Hello?” he answers, his voice soft and cautious. An inadvertent smile spreads across Louis’s
face.

“Hey,” Louis replies lightly, “that was like, really helpful, what you just sent me, but is it
yours? Because I’m not gonna steal your work.” Mid-sentence, Louis wonders why he
bothered calling about this, texting being much more convenient, but it’s too late now and
anyway, he likes hearing Harry’s voice.

“Um, yeah but it’s fine, we’re partners. In-in class,” he stammers. Louis clears his throat,
leaning backwards onto his headboard.

“Yeah, but still, I don’t wanna like, plagiarize it.”

“That’s ridiculous, you wouldn’t be plagiarizing it. You don’t have to use it, but I really don’t
mind, Louis.” Louis sighs.

“Thank you so much, Harry,” Louis says seriously, “This is the second time you’ve saved my
life in English, I owe you.”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” Harry answers. “You still owe me football lessons,” he adds after
a pause. Louis can hear the smile in his voice, and the idea of Harry sitting alone in his room,
grinning at a joke he made does something to Louis’s heart.

“I wasn’t joking about that, Styles, once I’m finished with you you’ll rival Beckham,” Louis
laughs, and he smiles fondly when he hears Harry laugh through the phone.

“I have faith in you,” Harry teases. Louis opens his mouth to reply when his bedroom door
swings open to reveal Mark, who looks him over once, unimpressed.

“I, uh, I have to go,” Louis says into the phone. The room has gone cold all of a sudden, a
significant contrast to the way it felt a moment ago.

“Oh,” Harry says, and Louis winces at the disappointment in his voice. “Um, ok. I’ll see you
tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Louis rushes, because Mark is glaring at him now, “Bye, thanks again.” He ends the
call quickly after that, sitting up to look at Mark.

“Can I help you?” Louis snaps.

“Who was that?” Mark asks coldly.

“A friend,” Louis replies, just as icily. He raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Mark
to get to the point.
 “We’re eating now, and as a member of this family, I expect you to join us.” Louis could
point out the glaring irony of that sentence, but he just nods curtly.

“I’ll be down in a minute.” As Mark turns to close the door, Louis calls after him, “You
could’ve knocked!” He shuts it without responding.

Sorry to hang up on you, a thing came up, Louis types quickly. After he sends it to Harry, he
opens his contact profile to check his number again, and he realizes that Harry added a smiley
face to the end of his name when he typed it in that he must not have noticed before.

Louis spends the rest of the day with much fonder smile of his own.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

Sorry for not updating last week, I know I keep saying I'll get better at it but honestly, I
promise I will be better since school is starting soon and I won't be traveling.

Thank you Jane for betaing as always, I love you.

Also, just a warning that there's a bit of a graphic description of self harm, I know it's a
standing trigger warning for the story but it's a bit more detailed in this one so please
don't read if it triggers you.

Enjoy!

AU meme for this chapter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Going to school the next day feels like too much for Louis - what with having to explain to
Zayn the basis of his feelings for Harry and the fact that he neglected most of his school
responsibilities the night before anyway. The sky is painted over with drab clouds, shrouding
everything in a rather depressing gray color and casting a bleak tone over everything. How
appropriate. Regardless, he drags himself out of bed and into the school parking lot with the
hope that perhaps, he'll talk to Harry more today and bothering to even show up will be worth
it.

However, any hope that the day could turn out alright is dashed when he spots Zayn waiting
for him at the front entrance with a smug grin. Louis takes a sharp breath in as he approaches,
trying to prepare what he’s going to say, and drawing a complete blank. The night before he’d
lay in bed, wondering why he could possibly have thought it would be a good idea about the
magnitude of his infatuation for Harry. The idea of anyone, even his best friend, seeing the
affect that Harry had on him - the way his breath catches in his throat when Harry smiles and
the way he feels his eyes go soft every time he looks at him and the pure vulnerability he had
when it came to Harry, how he let down his guard and he couldn’t be bothered to keep up the
whole “I don’t give a shit” tough guy facade.

Telling Zayn had been a moment of desperation and confusion, when he’d been so
overwhelmed with his sudden feelings that he’d needed to talk about it right then. Now,
standing in front of his school too early in the morning on a miserable, overcast day, nothing
could be less appealing to Louis than talking about his fucking crush.

Zayn, of course, doesn’t take that into consideration.

“You ready to talk now?” he asks as soon as Louis approaches, smirking knowingly. Louis
sighs, throwing his head backwards defeatedly. Zayn raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“No,” Louis answers flatly, leaning against the railing. He waits for Zayn to press him
further, but to Louis’s surprise he just quietly props himself on the railing next to him,
watching Louis carefully.

“Ok,” Zayn replies simply, “Let me know when you are.”

“Really?” Louis says incredulously, turning to frown at him. Zayn shrugs.

“I know you, Louis, so I know that you’re not gonna talk about it if you don’t want to-” He
has a point, “-but also, I know that if you’re even admitting to liking this guy, it must be a
pretty big deal for you, because I’ve known you for six years and I don’t think you’ve ever
told me about having, like, a genuine crush on anyone.”

Louis considers this for a few moments, and realizes he’s not wrong - Louis’s never really
talked to anyone about his romantic interests before, (if you could even call them that). It was
subconscious, he supposes, none of those guys ever felt important enough to share with the
person who was important in his life, so he never bothered talking about them too much. The
extent of the discussion about any of them would be for Louis to mention that he would be
doing something with his boyfriend over the weekend and Zayn to nod, but Louis never cared
enough to talk about them and consequently, Zayn didn’t care enough to ask.

“Thanks, man,” Louis says seriously. Zayn cocks his head to the side and squeezes his
shoulder.

“‘Course,” he replies. Louis throws an arm around his neck as they enter the building,
ignoring the few glances they receive from onlookers. He and Zayn have always had a closer
friendship then most teenage boys do, from being unusually, perhaps overly affectionate with
each other to the matching tattoos they got together a year ago. Most people don’t
understand, and Louis figures it’s their own problem.

Even once first period starts, Louis hovers in the hallway with Zayn until he’s five minutes
late and he decides that if he has any chance of passing his finals, he should probably show
up in class. After double checking his schedule, he discovers that he has English first. Just his
luck.

Bidding goodbye to Zayn, he rushes upstairs to the classroom. When he enters the room,
Ms.Teasdale is in the midst of addressing the class. She pauses as he strolls in, watching him.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” she drawls, “how nice of you to finally join us.” Louis grits his teeth,
preparing a retort, but it dies in his throat as Harry catches his eyes from across the room and
rolls his eyes sympathetically. Louis glances away from him, biting back a smile.

“Sorry,” he says flatly, strutting over to Harry and settling next to him. She glares at him for
another moment, but upon seeing that he isn’t going to pick a fight, picks up her lesson.
“As I was saying, this project will count for twenty percent of you final marks, you’ll be
working with your partners-“ Louis turns to raise his eyebrows playfully at Harry, who laughs
quietly, “-and you’ll have this class period to work, but after that it’s all your own time.” With
that, she turns away from the class and sits behind her desk.

Louis looks over at Harry, who’s already pulled out a notebook. “Any chance you could fill
me in on what I missed there?” he asks.

“Yeah, we have to do, like, a poster board on the characters in our book,” Harry explains,
shrugging.

“And we have to do it outside of school?” Louis confirms. The idea of spending more time
with Harry somewhere that wasn’t a crowded classroom was, to say the least, appealing.

Harry nods, smiling shyly, almost hopefully at him. He’s maybe the most beautiful person
Louis’ ever seen and Louis is maybe desperate to kiss him right there and Louis is maybe
(definitely) fucked.

“I don’t suppose you want to come to my house this week?” Louis suggests, raising his
eyebrows briefly. Harry tilts his head slightly, giving Louis a small, reserved smile.

“Okay,” he agrees warmly. “Friday?”

“I thought you had to work that day,” Louis points out, before considering if Harry might find
it slightly suspicious that Louis remembered his work schedule. Oops.

“I switched shifts with someone that day,” Harry explains.

“Okay, then Friday’s great,” Louis tells him. “I’m guessing you have better notes than me…”

Harry laughs, shaking his head and gesturing to his notebook. For the rest of the class, they
write out a rough draft of what they need to do, or, more accurately, Harry writes out a
brilliant analysis and Louis interjects with a few weak points here and there, but either way,
talking to Harry is wonderful, so he’s not complaining.

When class ends, they leave together and Louis watches Harry walk to his next class as they
part ways with a rather deflating feeling in his chest.

So, he has until Friday to either find a way to get over him or find a way to somehow talk to
him without his nerves taking him over. Right now, neither seem particularly likely.

***

The next two days aren’t particularly extraordinary - Louis neglects his school
responsibilities and smokes with Zayn and flirts hopelessly with Harry, and his only
motivation to get out of bed at all is the promise of Friday afternoon.

Jesus, Harry really does fuck with his head.

On Thursday afternoon he’s strutting down the hallway with Zayn, who’s arm is slung easily
around Louis’s neck, when he leans in to whisper “There’s your boy.” Indeed, Harry’s
standing in front of what must be his locker, clutching notebooks tightly to his chest.

“We aren’t talking to him,” Louis tells Zayn firmly. As the words leave his mouth, Harry
turns around and makes eye contact with him, smiling shyly. Louis responds by waving,
perhaps too enthusiastically, back.

“Too late, gotta talk now” Zayn says calmly, smirking and steering Louis towards him.

“Zayn-“ Louis says warningly, trying to push him away, but it’s too late now, and Harry is
right there and to do anything but talk to him now would be foolish. Louis makes a mental
note to get revenge on Zayn afterwards, but right now, he grins warmly at Harry, who smiles
back timidly.

“Hey,” he says casually, shaking Zayn’s arm off.

“Hi,” Harry replies apprehensively, looking nervously between the two of them. There’s a
long pause in which Louis grasps desperately for something to say, and Zayn comes to his
rescue.

“Hey Harry,” he says, an amused smile on his face, and Louis can tell Zayn will never let his
hear the end of this. Harry smiles cautiously towards Zayn.

“I was just, um, making sure that you’re still coming to my house tomorrow,” Louis says,
stumbling over his own words. Harry’s eyes brighten, and he nods.

“Yeah, yeah,” he confirms. Louis smiles at him again, before turning to Zayn.

“Ok, well, I just wanted to confirm, thanks Harry.” He smiles one more time before turning
away and quite literally dragging Zayn behind him.

“You’re an idiot, Lou,” Zayn laughs as soon as they’re out of earshot. Louis shoves him
lazily.

“And you’re an asshole! What the hell was that?” Zayn shrugs, unaffected.

“You stared at him for too long to not talk to him. I saved you there.” If he has a point, Louis
certainly isn’t going to admit it.

“The reason I didn’t know what to say was because you caught me off guard! Otherwise, I’m
fine.” Zayn shakes his head, pressing his lips together to prevent a smile.

“All I’m gonna say, bro, is that you need to figure out how to talk to him before Friday.”
Louis crosses his arms and huffs indignantly, but, privately, he wonders if Zayn is right. He
comes to the conclusion that he probably is, but to do anything about it would be a lost cause.

Honestly, fuck Harry Styles for doing this to him.

***
On Friday afternoon, they meet in front of Louis’ locker. The drive is easy enough; the two of
them have never really had trouble making conversation, and this is no exception. It’s not
until they’re two minutes from his house, and Louis realizes it’s Harry’s first time seeing the
Tomlinson residence, that perhaps this was a bad idea.

“Okay, so here we are.” Louis tenses up when he pulls into the front gates of his house,
waiting for Harry’s inevitable reaction. Every other time he’s had friends or dates over,
they’ve all had the same astonished, slightly amazed look on their face. Louis can’t blame
them, it’s obscene - the house itself is enough; four floors and a garage, complete with gaping
windows and a pristine front garden. It gives off a posh, aggressive, slightly unwelcoming
and cold aura, and Louis absolutely despises it.

Predictably, Harry widens his eyes and shrinks back slightly, clearly, intimidated. Louis
grimaces weakly at him, an unspoken apology.

“So this is it,” Louis says, biting his lip nervously. Harry nods, still looking overwhelmed.

“It’s nice,” he replies politely. Ha. Nice wouldn’t be the word Louis would use.

“C’mon.” Louis gestures for him to step out of the car, and they walk inside together. “No
one else should be home,” he adds as he unlocks the door. Harry nods.

“So my room’s upstairs.” Louis scuffs his shoe against the untouched marble floor, leading
Harry past the living room and kitchen. “Do you want anything to eat?” he adds after a
second thought.

“I’m good,” Harry says. Louis nods, making his way up the staircase.

“So my room’s just up here,” He points vaguely upwards, “it’s a bit of a climb, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Harry replies in a small voice. Louis smiles at him in appreciation once they reach
his room, pushing the door open.

It’s a severe contrast to the rest of the house; an overflowing laundry basket is propped in the
corner, just underneath a half open window with a broken screen. A football sits on top of his
dresser, leaning against an overturned cup of pencils. His comforter is tossed carelessly
across his bed, allowing mussed sheets to peak out from underneath them. There are a few
band posters and photographs tacked hastily on the wall, some already peeling off. The only
clue that this room belongs to a son of a billionaire is the plasma screen tv, fixed on the wall
across from Louis’s bed.

“We should, um, start working,” Harry points out after a few moments of silence, crossing his
arms over his chest. Louis nods, dumping his bag onto his desk.

“So studious,” Louis teases, smirking privately when Harry blushes. “Alright, let’s do this.”
He settles on the floor, leaning against his bed, and pats the ground next to him. Harry sits
beside him, close enough that the air between them bristles with electricity.
Or maybe Louis' imagining it. That's possible too.

Harry pulls out a thick folder, spreading the notes on the ground. "So, we, um, I have the
notes that we need here, did you get the poster board?" Harry stops shuffling his papers to
look up at Louis, who blinks, distracted.

"Oh, yeah," Louis stands up quickly to pull the poster out of the back of his closet, where
he'd stashed it carelessly the night before. He sets it down carefully in front of Harry.

"Good, now if we just, like, organize it with the three main characters..." Maybe this makes
Louis a bad partner, but Harry's explanation is lost to him as he stares at Harry's lips, unable
to focus on anything else but the way they move, how he bites down softly on them as he's
concentrating. Harry's so soft and gentle, from his pretty curls to his delicate eyelashes and
innocent eyes to his ivory skin, he seems almost fragile. Louis wishes he could just touch
him, chaste and innocent and soft, brush his hand against his cheek or tangle his fingers in his
hair or slot their fingers together, feel the warmth and texture of Harry’s skin against his own,
see how their hands fit together…

Oh, God. Seriously? What the actual fuck?

"Louis?" Harry says, snapping him out of his pining, "Are you okay with doing it that way?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Louis rushes, nodding enthusiastically as if he has any idea what he’s
agreeing to.

"Okay," Harry says, smiling faintly. "We need to start typing up a paragraph for each one
then."

"Great," Louis says airily, "do you want to do it together, or have each of us do one, or..."

"We can do one together today, and just see how far we can get?" Harry suggests, and Louis
notices there's more confidence in his voice than he's ever heard before. It’s nice to hear.

“I trust you more than I trust myself with this,” Louis says truthfully, reaching up to grab his
laptop off of his bed. Harry smiles faintly, running his fingers through his hair.

Writing the paper is surprisingly easy, compared to every other school assignment Louis’
ever done. Harry’s clearly studied well on the topic, and with his explanations, Louis finds it
easy enough to bullshit his way through a passable essay. It’s also made considerably more
pleasant by the fact that they’re sitting less than an inch apart and their shoulders brush
against each other’s a few times, and maybe it’s not much, but it’s enough to keep Louis on
edge for the whole time that they sit together. If he had Harry with him in every class, maybe
he wouldn’t be failing.

After about an hour, three complete paragraphs and several more instances of physical
contact, they’re interrupted by an Ed Sheeran song. Louis looks up in surprise and Harry
blushes.

“Sorry, my phone,” he mumbles, pulling it out.

“Nice ringtone,” Louis says, smirking. Harry throws him a dirty look before accepting the
call.

“Hey!” he says, his voice suddenly full of warmth and excitement, a genuine smile lighting
up his face. Something very much like jealousy twinges in Louis’s stomach.

“Harry!” a girl’s voice says on the other end, with equal enthusiasm. Harry stands up,
gesturing to the door as if to ask permission to go talk. Louis nods, waving him out.

Several minutes go by, and even though Louis isn’t proud of it, envy has found it’s way into
his chest. It could be no one, Louis thinks bitterly, it could be a friend…

Then again, he’s never made Harry smile that way.

“Okay, bye,” Louis hears, his head snapping up as Harry reenters, still smiling. “Love you
too, I’ll call you soon.” He hangs up, smiling easily at Louis as he kneels on the floor again.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says apologetically. Louis shrugs.

“No problem, mate.” He pauses, before adding, “Girlfriend?” He tries to keep his tone as
nonchalant as possible, but there’s a slight sharpness behind it that he desperately hopes
Harry doesn’t pick up on.

“What? Oh, no, I - my sister,” Harry stammers, and apparently the question caught him off
guard because he looks shocked, “she just wanted to know what weekend she should visit
from Uni.”

“Ah,” Louis says, irritated at his own relief. He’s in too deep already, so he figures he might
as well go the extra mile. “Have you got one, though?”

“I… um… no,” Harry mumbles, glancing down. Ok, well. He’s single. That’s good news, at
least.

There’s a heavy moment of silence before Harry speaks again. “I don’t actually - um - I’m
not really into girls.” He rushes it out so quickly that Louis’s sure he must have misheard,
must be fantasizing.

“Oh,” is all Louis can say, because his head is spinning. He’s shocked at the fact that Harry
chose to tell him this at all and he’s disgusted by his own heteronormativity, but most of all
Harry is gay. Harry is gay, and that could either change everything or it could change nothing,
but no matter what, it’s important.

“Are, um, are you like, okay with that?” Harry asks, eyes filled with anxiety, and Louis
shakes himself from his thoughts. He has hours later to consider the possibilities of what this
could lead to. Now is absolutely not the time.

“I - oh, yeah, totally, I’m not like, some homophobic prick,” Louis stammers. Obvious relief
washes over Harry’s face. “I, um, no, yeah, I’m, like, me too.”
He says it before he can think, before he can consider whether it’s a good idea to come out to
Harry Styles when he’s really only officially come out to exactly one person in the world,
before he can imagine the potential consequences of other people knowing. Harry’s eyes
widen slightly, and Louis can’t blame him for being surprised.

“You’re gay?” Harry blurts out. Shit. No going back now. Louis swallows thickly and nods.

“Oh,” Harry says, his voice slightly higher than usual. It takes a moment for Louis to realize
what a mistake it was, and when he does he immediately backtracks.

“Could you, um, not tell people?” he asks nervously. “It’s just, um, kinda complicated for me
for some reasons, and…” he trails off, biting his lip and looking at Harry.

“I-yeah, of course not,” Harry says seriously, nodding and tugging at his sleeves. Louis
smiles weakly.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully. Harry smiles at him, glancing down. They’re both quiet for a
moment, Louis shifting uncomfortably and Harry tugging at the sleeves of his jumper, before
Harry looks up again.

“So you and Zayn are together…” Louis’s head snaps up, an incredulous grin spreading
across his face.

“What? Me and Zayn?” Louis laughs. Harry’s eyes widen anxiously.

“I just…you guys have the same tattoo and… you just seemed like… oh my god.” Harry
drops his face into his hands for a moment before looking up again, cheeks flushed. He seems
to relax when he sees that Louis is almost in hysterics.

“Oh, god, no,” Louis shakes his head, still grinning, “I mean - he’s my best friend but, no.
The tattoos are completely platonic, it was just because Bus one-“ Louis pauses to show his
tattoo to Harry, as if he hadn’t already seen it, “-was the bus we met on in sixth year, and so
we thought it’d be fun to get it, but, no, we are definitely not together.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says hoarsely, but he’s smiling now too,

“Yeah, I’m not dating anyone,” Louis says, as casually as possible. Louis watches him as he
glances up, locking eyes with Louis. There’s a long, heavy moment where they stay that way,
staring at each other, until Harry turns his head away sharply.

“I should, um, I should go,” Harry says suddenly, looking up at him again. Louis blinks in
surprise.

“Oh, okay,” Louis replies, standing up. “I’m giving you a ride, right?”

“Is that okay?” Harry asks cautiously, biting his lip. Louis finds it more attractive than he
probably should.

“Yeah, of course,” Louis reassures him, gesturing for Harry to follow him outside of his
room. Grabbing his bag, Harry follows him closely down the staircase. They’re both quiet as
they walk to Louis’s car. The sun has started to set already, dusting the sky orange and pink
and illuminating everything with a golden tint, but all Louis can notice is how pretty Harry
looks in the lighting, the sky reflecting softly off of his pale skin.

God, Louis wants to kiss him so badly. Louis always wants to kiss him, but right now, with
the knowledge that there’s a possibility, however small, that Harry could kiss him back, it’s
somehow unbearably worse than usual.

Louis pulls open the passenger seat door for Harry, dramatically ushering him in. Laughing
softly, Harry steps inside.

Louis walks to the driver's seat, tugging open the door. “You know, if you prefer we could
take the motorbike,” he says dryly as he starts the engine.

Harry huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll pass on that, thanks.” Louis smiles fondly.

The drive is quiet, and Louis glances over every few seconds to make sure Harry’s alright.
He’s staring stoically ahead, eyes trained on the horizon line, and Louis would give so much
to know what Harry’s thinking, if it has anything to do with him.

“So, we do need to finish this at some point…” he points out when they’re pulling up to
Harry’s house, breaking the silence. Harry nods.

“I can come over sometime next week to finish it,” he suggests timidly.

“Yeah, ‘course, does next Tuesday work for you?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good,” Harry replies. Louis nods absently.

“Great,” he says cheerfully, flashing Harry a quick smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye Louis,” Harry says softly, opening his door. As always, Louis waits until he sees him go
inside to drive away, surprisingly content with the knowledge that he’s absolutely gone for
Harry Styles.

***

Harry waits until he gets into his bedroom to fall apart.

Oh, god. Louis’s gay, and even though for the last six weeks he’s been complaining and
assuming that he was straight, this is somehow impossibly worse. He let himself believe that
the reason Louis would never feel the same was because he had a completely different
preference and now, he’s forced to face the reality; the reason Louis will never feel the same
is because he deserves so much better than Harry; someone who isn’t worthless or ugly or
annoying or emotionally fucked.

Harry buries his face in his hands, taking in a sharp breath. He picks himself up from the
floor where he was propped against his bedroom door, heading straight for his dresser. He
fumbles around for a moment until he feels the flat piece of metal, pulling it out desperately.
Sinking back to the floor, he shoves his sleeves up to his elbows, pressing the razor harshly
into his wrist. He lets out a soft sigh of relief when he first feels the sharp pain, and he repeats
it a few more times.

After there are already several fresh cuts on his arm, tears are pricking the back of his eyes.
No matter how many times he does it, he doesn't know if he’ll ever be able to cut and not
flinch at the pain, even if it’s the only thing that helps. He stashes the razor at the back of his
drawer with the rest of them before heading to the bathroom to rinse the new cuts off. Once
he’s done he pulls on a tee shirt, not bothering to cover them up. His mum won’t be home for
a few hours and he has no plans to see anyone else.

Flopping onto his bed, Harry pulls out his phone. He has a few texts from Niall, so he sighs
and opens them.

where are you ??? :(

come to liam’s house !!!

WHERE WERE YOU AFTER SCHOOL WE MISS YOUUU :(

Harry flinches reading them, guilt settling in his stomach. He types back a quick response.

srry i was at louis’s house for a project. Twenty seconds later, a call comes through from
Niall. Groaning, Harry accepts.

“Hello?” he says weakly.

“You were at Louis Tomlinson’s house?” Niall shouts, and Harry actually has to pull the
phone away from his ear. “You didn’t tell us you were going to Louis’s house?”

“It was just for a school project,” Harry protests.

“Fucking hell, Harry, you didn’t need to go over to his fucking house for a school project.”
There’s some background muffling, and some voices Harry can’t make out but he assumes
are Liam and Sophia, and then Niall talking again. “Liam wants to know how Louis acted
when you were there.”

“He was really nice,” Harry says truthfully.

“What’d you guys do?” Niall pushes him. “Did you use protection?”

Harry scoffs into the phone, but he laughs as he hears Liam and Sophia shout “Niall!” in
disgust.

“No, but seriously, did anything happen, did you find out if he likes blokes?”

“I gotta go Niall,” Harry tells him flatly. He can’t have this discussion with Niall and Liam
right now, not when he’s laying in bed, exhausted and letting his own sadness wash over him.
There’s also the fact that he promised Louis that he wouldn’t tell anyone, which he fully
intended to keep. Having been forcibly outed, he would never put anyone through the same
thing.
“If you hang up we’re coming over to interrogate you!” Niall yells, as Harry rolls his eyes
and ends the call, confident that he was just being dramatic.

So obviously, it’s a surprise when his doorbell rings fifteen minutes later, interrupting his half
finished episode of The Office. Pulling on a sweatshirt, he heads downstairs to open the door.
Niall, Liam and Sophia are huddled in the doorway, Liam with a grim expression.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Harry snaps, with barely any malice. Sophia shrugs as
Niall brushes past Harry, collapsing on the couch.

“I warned you, mate,” Niall says nonchalantly. Harry stares at him for a moment, until he
turns back to Liam and Sophia and sighs.

“I suppose you two are going to come in too…” Sophia smiles at him, tugging Liam inside
behind her. They sit down next to Niall so Harry follows, sinking into an armchair beside the
couch.

“We drove here, Harry, because Liam was driving us home and we felt that we deserved a
full synopsis of what went down at Louis’s house,” Niall begins dramatically. “So, please
enlighten us.”

“For the record, Harry, I was against this,” Liam pipes up. Harry raises his eyebrows at
Sophia, waiting for her opinion.

“Sorry Harry, I wanna hear about it,” she says apologetically. “Mostly about his house,
Eleanor told me it was huge, does he at least have that going for him?”

“Yes,” Harry says after a moment of hesitation. “Other than that though, you guys seriously
wasted your time, nothing else happened.”

“You are such a shit liar, Harry, what are you not telling us?” Niall exclaims, sitting up and
pouting. Harry sighs again and rests his head on the back of the chair. Niall and Sophia lean
forward expectantly, and even Liam looks up in mild interest.

“He’s gay,” Harry says reluctantly, watching their reactions. Sophia smirks, looking
unsurprised, while Niall’s mouth drops open, grinning triumphantly. Liam frowns skeptically.
“But you can’t tell anyone, I wasn’t supposed even tell anyone!” he adds desperately.

“Yeah, yeah, of course we won’t,” Niall reassures him, and Harry believes him, at least. “But
Harry, this is huge!” Harry shakes his head.

“So I was right,” Sophia says smugly. Niall reaches over to high five her, and Liam coughs.

“I don’t wanna be then to ruin this,” Liam says uncomfortably, “but Harry, how do you know
he isn’t, like, lying?” Harry glances down, because the thought hadn’t crossed his mind yet
but it could be likely, and even though Louis isn’t cruel, as far as he can tell, this could still
be some kind of trick that Louis had planned.

“Babe, no offense but that’s ridiculous, why would he lie?” Sophia says dismissively.
“Not because- I just mean, he slept with Eleanor, which you should remember,” Liam looks
pointedly at his girlfriend, who waves a hand, “and he dated that girl Hannah for a while, and
last year he supposedly got that girl Brianna pregnant-“

“Oh my god, Liam, shut up!” Niall yells, surprising everyone, “that was obviously bullshit.
Did Brianna ever have a fucking baby?” When Liam doesn’t answer, Niall cocks his head
pointedly and continues. “I know you hate the guy but Jesus, don’t assume the worst.”

“I’m not-“ Liam sighs, running his fingers through his hair, “My only point was that if he
really is gay, that’s great for Harry, even though I still think he’s a class A dick-“ Harry, Niall
and Sophia roll their eyes in exasperation, “-but I’m just saying be careful, because I
wouldn’t trust him just yet, from my experience with him.”

“Harry, ignore my boyfriend, he’s just biased,” Sophia says, scowling at Liam, who stares
past her, annoyed. “What are you gonna do now?”

“I’m not gonna do anything,” Harry replies, staring at her, astonished. “It doesn’t- just
because he’s gay doesn’t mean- I’m not gonna doanything,” he stutters further. Niall frowns.

“But why, this is so perfect,” Niall whines, genuinely upset. “You like him and he likes guys,
and why wouldn’t he wanna go out with you?”

Harry almost laughs at the irony of that statement, but doesn’t comment because he knows
that his friends will just argue with him on it. He just shrugs, looking up at them.

“I’m just not gonna do anything,” Harry answers quietly. Sophia glances down, and Niall
frowns, but Liam looks relieved.

“Ok,” Niall says, defeated, “but I think you’re being a bit stupid.”

“Niall,” Liam says warningly, shooting him a look. Niall raises his hands in surrender, but he
doesn’t look sorry at all.

“Alright, Harry we’re gonna stop now because I know we’re annoying you-“ Sophia nods at
the other two boys, “-but the last thing I’m gonna say is that I agree with Niall.” Harry
grimaces at her and nods.

“Okay,” he replies flatly. Liam glares pointedly at Niall and Sophia, who cast Harry long,
apologetic looks.

“I have to get going, am I driving you guys back now?” Liam asks sharply, obvious tension
written on his face. Niall nods, standing up and walking over to Harry to wrap an arm around
him.

“See you tomorrow, mate,” he says. Harry hugs him back absently, doing the same to Sophia
as she gives him a quick squeeze. Liam hangs behind a moment until they’re outside before
walking up to Harry.

“Don’t stress about this, just do whatever you want,” Liam says seriously, pulling him into a
tight hug. Harry nods gratefully, leaning into his embrace. Liam claps him on the shoulder
before he walks out, leaving Harry alone with an empty home and his own terrible thoughts.

***

Louis is in the midst of a bit of a crisis when he arrives home, so he does what he always
does when he’s having a breakdown; he calls Zayn.

“Hey man,” Zayn says when he picks up. “What’s up?”

“Harry’s gay,” Louis informs him, without bothering to greet him. He can hear Zayn laugh
quietly on the other end of the phone.

“That’s good news, right?” Zayn asks carefully. Louis scrubs a hand over his face.

“I don’t know,” Louis says, sighing. “It’s like- it’s stressful now, you know?”

“Yeah,” Zayn answers after a pause. “So what do you think you’re gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Louis replies, grimacing. “What do you think?”

“Well,” Zayn begins, sounding thoughtful, “I don’t know Harry that well, so I don’t know
what he’d do if you made a move.” Louis presses his lips together, and Zayn continues. “But
you’re also really into him, so I think you should just ask him out.”

“If he doesn’t say yes-“

“If he doesn’t say yes then he’s an idiot,” Zayn replies firmly. Louis can’t help but grin.

“Aw, Zaynie, don’t make me blush,” he teases. He can picture Zayn rolling his eyes.

“Shut up,” Zayn replies airily, but there’s a fondness behind his tone that only Louis would be
able to pick up on.

“Oh, wait!” Louis says suddenly, sitting up in bed. “I forgot to tell you, so, when I told him
that I was gay, he thought me and you were together!”

Zayn bursts out laughing on the other end of the phone, the exact reaction Louis expected
from him. “Seriously?” he asks in disbelief, “Oh, god, what did you say?”

“Don’t sound so offended, Malik, I would be honored to date you,” Louis replies haughtily,
but he’s laughing too. “It was the Bus One tattoo,” he explains.

“Yeah, that could be misleading,” Zayn replies lightly. “Whatever, as long as he knows
you’re available. You want me to talk about you to him during physics?”

“Goodbye,” Louis deadpans, rolling his eyes, “you haven’t been very helpful.”

“See you Louis,” Zayn singsongs. Louis can hear him laughing as he ends the call, dropping
his head into his hands to wallow in his own frustration.
Chapter End Notes

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

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 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

Thanks as always to Jane for betaing, love you.

Enjoy!

AU meme for this chapter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“So what are you doing over holiday?”

Zayn asks Harry the question towards the end of their chemistry class on Tuesday afternoon.
It catches Harry by surprise, mostly because in the six months that they’ve been partners in
class they’ve barely exchanged more than two words that weren’t about classwork. Not that
Harry minds, or anything; he rather prefers that to having to worry about carrying a
conversation with yet another person.

“Oh, I’m just, like, staying at home, you know, I might hang out with my friends…” Like he
really cares what you’re doing. Stop annoying him. Biting his lip, Harry glances up towards
Zayn. “You?”

“Same as you, stayin’ here, making plans with my mates.” Harry nods, slightly confused by
the conversation since the holiday is still two weeks away. He’s been desperately waiting for
the relief that will undoubtedly come with the two week break from school.

“I’m so ready, aren’t you?” Zayn supplies, smiling easily at him. Harry grins and nods.

“Yeah, can’t wait,” he answers cautiously. He waits for Zayn to say something else, some
kind of explanation as to why they’re suddenly talking, but the bell rings a moment later and
Zayn gets up without another word.

“See you tomorrow,” he says airily, giving Harry a quick grin before sauntering out. Harry
blinks, watching him leave blankly, before hurriedly gathering his books and walking out.

Waiting outside for him is Niall, propped lazily against the wall. When he spots Harry his
eyes brighten and he rushes towards him, engulfing him in a tight hug.

“Hey mate,” he says when he pulls away. He doesn’t give Harry the chance to respond before
he says “You didn’t tell me Zayn Malik was in your class.”
“Oh, yeah,” Harry replies, surprised at his interest. “We’re partners, why do you care?”

“Well isn’t he friends with Louis?” Niall inquires, glancing nonchalantly at Harry. When
Harry nods, Niall continues, “he’s pretty fit too, don’t ya think?”

Harry raises an eyebrow, looking up to stare at Niall. “I suppose…”

“Look, I mean, the bloke looks like a greek god,” Niall points out, shrugging. Harry snorts,
shaking his head at Niall’s fascination. Niall glances at him with a sly grin. “But I suppose
he’s not the one you’re paying attention to…”

Harry rolls his eyes, laughing despite himself when Niall elbows him. “You’re going to his
house again today, right?”

“Yeah.” An unintentional grin spreads across Harry’s face when he thinks of Louis.

“So is today gonna be the day you finally make a move?” Harry’s smile falters, and he bites
his lip.

“It’s not-” he begins, but he’s cut off when he’s sent flying against a pair of lockers. Flinching
and whimpering softly in pain and fear, he looks up to see Chris and one of his friends
(Calvin?), smirking from a few feet away and Niall, glaring at them.

“Oi, what the fuck?” Niall snaps, stepping towards them. Chris raises his eyebrows and
moves closer to Niall, obviously preparing for a fight.

“Niall, don’t,” Harry mumbles, pushing his hair out of his face. When Niall doesn’t back
down, Harry steps forward to tug his arm.

“Honestly, Niall, it’s not worth it,” Harry mutters, “Lets just go.” Niall relents, throwing
Chris one more dark look before turning away.

As they walk away together, Harry stares at the ground, cheeks burning with guilt and
humiliation. Niall wraps an arm around his neck, comforting and protective, but Harry finds
it hard to accept when he doesn’t deserve it.

“Harry,” Niall begins, carefully and quietly, and Harry winces as he sees where it’s going, “if
you would just tell-”

“No,” Harry says sharply, tensing up underneath Niall’s hug. “It’s not- it’s not a big deal,” he
adds quietly. “Honestly, it’s not that bad, just like, don’t mention this to Liam, okay?” When
he looks up again, Niall’s eyes are full of sadness.

“Why won’t you just let us-”

“Just drop it, Niall!” Harry snaps. Niall startles at the sudden outburst, and guilt settles in
Harry’s stomach. “I just- it’s not your problem, I can take care of myself,” he mumbles, tired
and defeated. Niall sighs heavily, hesitating before he answers.
“I’m sorry, Harry, I’m just worried about you.” Harry swallows thickly, and Niall continues.
“Chris and those guys are horrible people, and nothing they say is true, but it seems like it’s
really taken a toll on you.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry shakes his head. “ ‘m fine,” he lies. Niall frowns, tightening his
arm around Harry’s neck.

“So you’ll meet us at Starbucks after you and Louis finish up?” Niall confirms, changing the
subject. Harry sighs; Louis seems suddenly light years away. Running his fingers through his
curls, he looks up at Niall.

“Alright,” he says begrudgingly. Niall pumps his fist, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Alright, mate, where are you meeting him?”

“Uh, here,” Harry tells him, gesturing to the front entrance. Niall looks around in surprise, as
if he’s expecting Louis to pop out behind him.

“Well, shit, should I go?” Niall looks towards him in concern.

“Nah, stay until he shows up.” Shrugging, Niall leans against the wall next to him, peering
down the hallway.

***
Louis stands in front of his locker next to Zayn, who rushed to meet him after last period
ended. He’s supposed to meet Harry in ten minutes and he may or may not have spent twenty
minutes that morning trying to pick out an outfit that flattered him. Not that he would ever
admit it to Zayn. Or anyone.

“So I talked to Harry a bit today in chem,” Zayn says casually. Louis frowns.

“About what?”

“I dunno man, just wanted to make sure that he was worthy of you.” Louis rolls his eyes,
shutting his locker and turning to look at Zayn.

“And is he?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s nice enough.” Zayn pauses, as if he’s debating on whether or not to keep
talking. “I’m really surprised you like him though, he’s the opposite of everyone you’ve ever
dated, from what I can tell.”

“Yeah, I know.” Louis’ spent hours considering this; all of his exes have been very similar, to
the point where Louis had assumed he had a type; tall and muscular, confident and outgoing
and experienced. He met most of them in clubs, their affiliationss blossoming into
relationships from originally beginning as one night stands. Harry was the opposite of them;
quiet and reserved and delicate, bringing out a softness in Louis that he hadn’t known he had.

“So you’re gonna ask him out, right?” Zayn asks expectantly, as simply as if he’s asking what
the weather is. Louis sighs, frowning doubtfully.
“I don’t know, man, I still have to see…” Zayn rolls his eyes dramatically, casting Louis a
long, exasperated look.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because he might not say yes!” Louis snaps, almost hysterically. When a few people turn
their heads, Louis stares them down until they look away, before starting to walk down the
hallway.

“Jesus, listen to yourself, Lou! You sound insane, you have nothing to lose if he says no.”
Louis scowls at him, but his face softens a moment later when he spots Harry a few yards
away, leaning against the wall next one of his friends.

“Just promise me you’ll ask him out,” Zayn says, his voice low as they approach. Louis
shoves him, perhaps with more aggression than necessary, smiling warmly at Harry as he
walks up him

“Hey,” he says coolly, nodding at the blonde kid.

“Hey,” Harry replies, then raises his eyebrows at the blondie. “Don’t you need to go?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replies in an Irish accent, and it clicks in Louis’ mind that this was the guy
who was plastered at the party a few weeks ago. “See ya,” he says to Harry, then nods at
Zayn and Louis.

“I should go too,” Zayn says, waving quickly at Harry and Louis. He glances at the Irish kid -
Niall, Louis remembers, - looking him over once.

“You walking this way…?” Zayn gestures down the hallway, addressing Niall, who nods, a
bit too eagerly in Louis’ opinion. Zayn grins at him with ease before falling into step beside
him. Louis watches them in puzzlement for a few seconds, until he remembers that Harry is
right in front of him, and is endlessly more fascinating then Zayn’s unlikely friendship with a
cheerful Irish kid.

“Hi,” Louis says again, grinning when Harry laughs. “You wanna go?”

“Oh, yeah.” Louis pushes the door open for him, leading him towards his car.

“So how much more do we need to do?” Louis asks Harry as they step into the car, mostly so
he can hear Harry’s voice.

“Not much, we just need to finish our conclusion and paste it down,” Harry explains. “It
shouldn’t take more than like, an hour.”

“Great,” Louis replies, drumming his fingers nervously on the dashboard. For the rest of the
drive, they fill the silence by reviewing everything they’ve written, which Louis would have
found utterly unbearable if it was anyone other than Harry. Somehow, though, he has a way
to make anything interesting.
Thankfully, Harry seems to have adjusted to the initial shock of Louis’ house, so when they
pull into his garage Harry doesn’t recoil in surprise. Louis unlocks the front door, expecting
an empty house but startling slightly when his mother’s voice calls “Lou?”

“Hey, mum!” he calls back, mouthing “Sorry” to Harry as he leads him into the kitchen to see
what she needs.

“Hi, love,” she says kindly to him, looking mildly surprised when she notices Harry. “Who’s
this?”

“This is my friend Harry.” Harry smiles shyly, reaching out to shake her hand. Louis feels
slightly guilty for putting Harry in this position; he’s picked up on the fact that he’s probably
not too fond of crowds or people and if Louis had to bargain, he would guess that he’s
possibly got some social anxiety. Still, it’s not his place to judge but even so, he doesn’t want
to do anything to make him uncomfortable.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry says politely. She smiles warmly at him, grasping his hand briefly
before turning back to Louis.

“I’ve got to pick up Daisy and Phoebe and then run them to a doctor’s appointment, is there
anyway you could pick up some takeaway for later? I left my credit card on the counter.” She
gestures vaguely around the kitchen, looking at Louis through pleading eyes. Where’s your
husband? Louis thinks icily, but he just smiles and nods reassuringly.

“Thanks, sweetheart. And so nice to meet you, Harry.” She gives the two boys a wave before
walking away, heels clicking loudly against the polished wood. Louis waits until the door
swings shut heavily, then tilts his head at Harry.

“You wanna go up?” Harry nods, following him up until they reach the top floor and Louis’
almost winded.

“So, Harry, I’m gonna let you take the lead again, since that was working out last time.”
Harry blushes slightly, and Louis’ grinning as he tosses his sweatshirt onto his bed.

They fall into sync writing again easily, the rest of the essay going smoothly and effortlessly,
exclusively because of Harry’s knowledge on the subject. When Louis gets up to retrieve the
final, printed version to paste down, he realizes that Harry’s still wearing a heavy, oversized
sweatshirt which, while making him look impossibly pretty, can’t be particularly comfortable
in Louis’ heated room.

“Are you cold?” he asks as he sits back down. “ ‘cause I can turn the heat up if you want.”

Harry glances briefly down at his sleeves, then back to Louis. “No, don’t, I’m good.” Louis
shrugs, not thinking anything of it, and begins to spread the papers across the floor.

They finish up at half six, the final product having been read over twice at Harry’s insistence.
It’s far superior to anything Louis’ done on his own all year, and he refuses to stop thanking
Harry for it.
“Honestly, if we don’t ace this I’ll be appalled,” Louis teases him as they’re heading
downstairs. Harry blushes, but Louis can see pride and satisfaction written hidden behind his
smile.

They walk to the car together, their arms brushing together too many times to be a
coincidence (but maybe that’s on Louis). When they climb in, Harry turns to Louis.

“Do you mind dropping me off at the Starbucks right at the edge of town? I have to meet a
friend.”

“Are you sure you’re not just going because you want a cotton candy frappe?” Louis says
jokingly, a sense of immense satisfaction filling him when Harry laughs.

“I’m more concerned that you know what that is,” Harry replies cheekily, smirking, and
Louis bursts out laughing.

“Touché,” Louis says. “No, that’s fine, but do you mind if we stop to get food at this Chinese
restaurant? ‘cause it closes soon and I still need to get dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine,” Harry reassures him. Louis turns sharply onto the main street,
pulling into a parking space.

“Alright, it’s right here.” Louis opens the door, waiting for Harry to step out of the passenger
seat before entering the restaurant.

Harry hovers closer to the entrance as Louis orders, but he smiles when Louis walks back to
meet him.

“Do you mind waiting like fifteen minutes?” Louis asks. Harry shrugs and shakes his head,
settling into one of the empty chairs towards the entrance. Louis sits next to him, turning to
glance at him.

You have nothing to lose if he says no. In a sense, it’s true; Harry is anything but cruel, and he
certainly wouldn’t do anything to try to hurt Louis. Still, they’re friends, and there’s always
the possibility that that could be threatened.

But still, Louis thinks, how has this ‘friendship’ been working out for you recently?

“Harry,” Louis says slowly, his heart pounding with anticipation of what he’s about to do.
Harry looks up, raising his eyebrows.“Would you, um, do you want to like, go to dinner, or
get coffee or something soon?” Harry stares at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in
shock and confusion as if he’s still processing what Louis just said. “Like, uh, like on a date,”
Louis finishes lamely, biting his lip.

“Seriously?” Harry says, his voice an octave higher than usual. “You wanna go out with me?”

“Yeah,” Louis replies, like it’s obvious. “But if you don’t want, that’s - that’s fine, I
completely understand,” he backpedals, looking nervously at Harry.
“I, um,” Harry begins, and Louis braces himself for the rejection, “I would really like that,”
he says softly, smiling up at Louis.

“Really?” Louis says, grinning. Harry nods, blushing, and it takes every ounce of restraint
that Louis has not to start cheering right there.

“Are you around Friday?” Louis asks. Harry’s still looking at him, eyes filled with surprise
and happiness, and he nods furiously.

“Yeah, I am,” he replies, “You, um, wanna do it then?”

Louis laughs softly, looking at him fondly. “Yeah, I do,” he says warmly.

“Okay,” Harry answers, smiling again and glancing away.

“Cool,” Louis says, because he’s too elated and stunned to be able to think straight. When his
order is ready a moment later, he’s not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse.

Once they’re in the car again, the air is thick with a warmth that Louis is pretty sure wasn’t
there before. Everything around him looks more beautiful, too; he’s never been able to
appreciate how Doncaster looks shrouded in cold gray clouds, but right there he can’t think
of a single place on earth he would rather be.

Harry, though, Harry is more beautiful than anything he can think of. It’s not even
comparable, really.

The car ride is full of silence and bashful, nervous smiles and hidden looks from both of
them. It’s not awkward; they’re both so clearly preoccupied that they can’t be worried about
attempting a conversation, but it’s nice, Louis decides. It’s comfortable. It’s warm.

Louis clears his throat when he pulls up to Starbucks, glancing over at Harry again. “So,
thanks for everything,” he says gently, giving him a soft smile.

“Yeah, you too,” Harry answers quietly, his face lighting up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Louis confirms, “and Friday.”

“Friday,” Harry repeats, grinning, before stepping out of the car.

When he’s a safe distance away, Louis pumps his fist in the air, and drives away with a
ridiculous grin.

***
Harry stumbles into Starbucks in a haze of confusion and infatuation and terror and
happiness, unable to form any comprehensive thought besides LouisLouisLouis. His heart is
still racing and he can still feel heat in his cheeks, and he’s sure he looks like an idiot
standing in the entrance of a coffee shop with a ridiculous grin on his face, but he’s too
overwhelmed to care.
Louis likes him. Louis likes him, enough to ask him out. Harry actually has to cover bring his
hands up to his mouth to stop from grinning.

Of course, the elation is short lived before the other thoughts kick in. Why would he like you?
and It’s probably a joke or just to be nice or something and Wait until he finds out what a
fuck-up you are, that’ll change his mind. He inhales shakily, biting his lip because those are
the truer thoughts, the ones that are easier to believe and the ones that will undoubtedly be
proven in time.

His thoughts are spiraling, suddenly, of all the ways this could go wrong and his wrists are
itching. Maybe he should just leave, tell his friends that he had to stay late at Louis’s…

“Oi! Harry!” an Irish voice yells, and, well, that idea is dead. He looks up to see Niall waving
aggressively from a corner table, squeezed onto a bench next to Liam and Sophia, who have
their arms linked tightly. Harry takes a deep breath and heads over to them.

“Hey Harry,” Liam says, smiling kindly. “You good, mate?” Harry nods, returning the smile
before pulling over an extra chair.

“Hey,” Harry says hoarsely, still trying to gather his thoughts. All three of them look at him
expectantly from over the table, so he clears his throat.

“So Louis asked me out,” he mumbles, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible. The
reactions are instantaneous; Sophia gasps and brings her hands up to cover her mouth, Liam
leans backwards, eyes wide with shock, and Niall literally jumps up and yelps, causing
several annoyed customers to glare at him.

“Seriously?” Niall says incredulously, and Harry can’t help but smile. “Oh, fucking hell, you
said yes, right, mate?”

“Yeah, I did,” Harry promises him. Niall grins and shakes his head again, before sitting
calmly back down.

“Harry, that’s fucking sick,” he comments, “I’m really happy for you.”

“That’s so great Harry!” Sophia says, looking genuinely happy. “Tell us everything, how’d he
do it?”

“We were picking up food for his family and he just, like, asked me if I wanted to go to
dinner.” Harry can feel himself blushing again despite himself, so he bites his lip in a vain
attempt to hide his smile. Sophia claps her hands together, smirking at Harry.

“I called this, I told you he was into you,” she says smugly. Harry’s smile falters slightly.

“I don’t know if he likes me, he might’ve just been trying to be nice, or like, thinking it’d be
fun-” He’s cut off by a scoff from Niall.

“Harry, you’re one of my best friends and I love you, but you’re a fucking idiot when it
comes to love. Trying to be nice? Seriously? He likes you, as he should, because you’re an
amazing person. Stop being so hard on yourself.” Niall says it in the half-joking, nonchalant
tone that he usually talks in, but there’s a bit of a harshness and desperation behind it that
makes Harry flinch.

“He’s right Harry,” Sophia supplies timidly. Biting his lip, Harry shifts his attention to Liam.

“What do you think?” Harry asks him. Liam presses his lips together, looking around the
table.

“I mean, you know how I feel about Louis, but I’ll be happy for you if you guys start dating,”
Liam says, his voice tight and sharp. It can’t be more apparent that he’s holding back what he
really wants to say but regardless, Sophia and Niall exchange a look of clear relief.

“Thanks,” Harry says seriously. Liam gives him a weak smile and reaches across the table to
squeeze his shoulder supportively.

“So come on, tell us about it!” Sophia insists, grabbing his hand. Harry can’t help smiling as
he walks them through it, and by the end Sophia and Niall are mock swooning while Liam
leans back with a small smile.

When Harry gets home, it’s the first time in a long time that he doesn’t feel miserable. He’s
not quite sure how to feel about that.

***
Two days later, Louis is in football practice, playing what’s potentially the worst practice
game of his life.

“Tomlinson, what are you doing out there?” Alvarez shouts to Louis as he misses his third
goal of the practice. Louis curses under his breath before turning to give him an apologetic
wave.

“Sorry, coach, I was a bit distracted today!” Louis calls back, positioning himself to shoot
again. That’s true, at least - ever since Harry agreed to go out with him, he hasn’t been able to
focus on anything else. When he’d arrived home that day, he reverted back to a twelve year
old with a crush and had, quite literally, jumped up and down in his room, before regaining
himself enough to call Zayn and tell him the good news.

(Zayn had, of course, cheered for Louis before smugly pointing out that “I told you so, I was
right from the beginning”).

And as elated that Louis was, still is, that Harry appears to like him back, the price he’s had
to pay for it is the constant distraction of Harry, to the point where it’s begun to affect his
other activities. Louis rakes his fingers through his hair and shoots again, this time making a
clean goal.

Half an hour later, after several more failed goals and an increasing level of frustration,
Louis’ packing up when he’s approached by Liam Payne. Oh, perfect. Liam stands in front of
him and crosses his arms, leaning against the locker and fixing Louis with a cold look.
Sighing in exasperation, Louis straightens up and cocks his head to the side, raising his
eyebrows expectantly.
“Can I help you?” he asks flatly. Liam grimaces.

“So you’re going out with Harry tomorrow,” he states coldly.

“Yep,” Louis says, and perhaps it’s not a good idea to get into a fight with the best friend of
his potential future boyfriend, but he honestly can’t care in the moment. “And it concerns you
because…?”

Liam’s face darkens. “It concerns me because he’s my best friend and I need to make sure
this isn’t some sick plan that you and your friends made up to hurt him,” he snarls.

Louis scoffs. “Really? You don’t think it’s possible that I might just like him?”

“No I don’t. I think you’re an asshole and a liar and that this is something that you, and the
people you hang out with would find funny.” Louis grits his teeth as Liam continues. “I know
you, I know about all of your relationships, and I know that your friends would love to target
Harry.”

Without warning, Louis slams the locker shut, the sound bouncing around the space and
causing Liam to jump. “Fuck you, Payne, you don’t know shit about me or my relationships
so don’t ever fucking say that you do.” Louis’ voice is low and dangerous. For once, Liam is
speechless - he just stands there, blinking in surprise at Louis’ sudden outburst. With that,
Louis casts him a last, scathing look and pushes past him, letting the door slam shut behind
him when he exits.

Louis is still seething as he walks to his car, replaying what just happened in his head. I think
that you’re an asshole and a liar and that this is something that you, and the people you hang
out with would find funny. I know you, and I know about all of your relationships. How Liam
could have the nerve to say that he knew Louis was beyond him. The fact that he would dare
try to act like he had any idea what was going on in Louis’s life, try to pretend that he
understood a single fucking thing about Louis; it’s infuriating, and rage is still heavy in his
chest when he pulls out of the parking lot.

There was also “I know your friends would love to target Harry”. Whatever the fuck that
meant. What ‘friends’ Liam was talking about is lost to Louis; he’s hung around some groups
of guys who were truly horrible people in the past, but he’s lost on who Liam would be
referring to. He supposes it must be about some of the guys he’s been associated with in the
past, people he’s hung out with at parties or cut class with to get high on the football field,
people who usually turn out to be bigoted scum in the end.

By the time Louis gets home, Liam’s confrontation is still ringing in his head, gnawing at
him. He doesn’t know why he cares; he’s never given Liam Payne, or anyone for that matter,
the time of day before, so it certainly shouldn’t bother him that Liam thinks he’s an asshole.
Regardless, it sticks with him until he falls asleep, wondering bitterly why he’s allowing this
to throw him off.

***
 By the morning, Louis’ more or less shaken it off, but he still goes to school with a hint or
irritation. He’s too nervous about tonight to dwell too much on it, so it’s a surprise when
Harry’s blonde Irish friend (Niall, Louis reminds himself), bounds up to him in the hallway.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?” Niall asks briskly, not bothering with introductions.
Louis shrugs, expecting another interrogation.

“Okay, good.” Niall pauses, waiting for Louis to respond. When he doesn’t, he continues,
unphased. “So, I know Liam might’ve been a bit of a twat to you yesterday.”

“Oh,” is all Louis can say, because this wasn’t at all what he was expecting. Niall grimaces
apologetically.

“Yeah, so I’m gonna apologize on his behalf, because he’s really a great guy, but he’s a bit,
er, protective of his friends.” Louis snorts, thinking privately that “protective’ wasn’t the
word he would use, but he doesn’t interrupt Niall.

“So whatever he said, he probably didn’t mean, but don’t like, hold it against Harry because
he didn’t have anything to do with that, and he really likes you,” Niall finishes.

“Thanks,” Louis says carefully, “and I wasn’t gonna hold it against Harry.”

Niall grins, sticking out a hand confidently. “Good,” he says firmly. Louis reaches out and
grasps his hand, ringing it once before letting go.

“So, uh, have fun with Harry tonight,” Niall says, as he turns away. Louis nods
appreciatively, grinning after him as he bounces down the hallway.

He really likes you.

There is nothing that Niall, or any human, could say to him that sounded better than that.

Chapter End Notes

I just want to take a second to thank every person who has commented on this, I know I
don't respond to all of them but they mean SO MUCH to me so thank you, I love you.

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

Please leave comments/kudos/suggestions!

 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

WOW I'm the worst person ever, I literally have no excuse other than the fact that I was
exhausted and stressed from the start of school. So so sorry, and I'll try to update weekly
from now on but honestly, it's more likely that the next chapter will be in two weeks.

Thanks to Jane and Maddie for betaing, love you guys!

Only warning for this chapter is excessive fluff.

AU meme for this chapter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Louis arrives at Harry’s house at 6:58 pm, with far too much adrenaline for a first date. He
hovers outside the door for a few moments, allowing himself to collect his thoughts, before
taking a deep breath and ringing his doorbell.

There’s a short pause before the door swings open, and Harry stands there, bouncing on his
toes and wearing an oversized navy blue sweater with his curls swept across his forehead. He
grins at Louis, eyes bright. Louis smiles back fondly, raking his fingers through his hair
nervously.

“Hey,” Louis says, “you look really good.” Harry blushes, lowering his gaze.

“Thanks,” he says, looking back up, “so do you.” Louis grins at him, hesitating for a moment.

“You ready?” Louis asks, gesturing to his car. Harry nods, giving Louis a quick, shy smile
before following him outside, pulling the door shut behind him.

The air is cool and brisk, the last traces of winter still filling the sky as they fade away into
spring. Harry is bright and radiant against the grey surroundings, standing out even with his
arms crossed over his chest and his head tucked.

Harry hesitates outside of Louis’ car for a moment, waiting for Louis to open the door before
he follows suit. They stare at each other for a moment before both of them break into smiles,
if nervous and cautious ones, and they have to look away.

“So, um,” Louis breaks the silence as he starts the car, drumming his fingers against the
steering wheel.“There’s this really nice Italian place, that’s like ten minutes away from here?
I was thinking we’d go there, if that’s alright with you, or you know, anything else is fine
too…” He trails off, glancing at Harry.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds, great,” Harry replies, nodding enthusiastically. Louis smiles at him,
before remembering that he’s driving a car and should be paying attention to the road, not the
beautiful boy next to him.

“If you wanna, like, put on the radio, or whatever, go ahead,” Louis tells him. He’s relieved
when Harry feels comfortable enough to reach forward and click on the radio.

Louis watches Harry in the corner of his eye as he changes the stations, landing on one
playing the beginning of an Ed Sheeran song.

“Keep this!” Louis says with enthusiasm, grinning as Harry turns to stare at him with a
surprised smile.

“You made fun of my ringtone,” Harry says cheekily, shaking his head. Louis laughs, raising
his eyebrows.

“Actually, what I recall was saying ‘nice ringtone’. I was being completely serious, Harold.”
Harry bursts out laughing, and Louis has to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road as he
smiles fondly at him.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved

You wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
This feels like falling in love
Falling in love
Falling in love
Falling in love

Louis swallows, tearing his gaze away from Harry momentarily. “So, uh, for dinner, there’s
this really nice Italian place? If you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s good,” Harry assures him.

“Okay, well it’s like, right here,” Louis says, gesturing absently forward towards a grove of
restaurants. He pulls into the parking lot carefully, scanning the area around them briefly.

“Okay, great,” Harry answers, reaching forward to click off the radio. They step out of the car
at the same time, shoulders brushing against each other's as they walk towards the entrance.

Louis pushes open the door, and his first thought is that they’re significantly underdressed.
It’s full of men in crisp suits and women in pencil skirts, all of them sipping expensive wine
and laughing. His second thought is that this looks like a room full of the most insufferable
people on the face of the earth. He half expects to turn around and see Mark, smoking a
cigarette with a snide expression.
“Harry?” Louis asks, making no attempt to hide his disgust. Harry looks up at him, raising
his eyebrows. “What do you say we get as far away from here as possible?”

“Yeah, let;s go,” Harry agrees, obviously relieved. Louis throws a last scowl at the customers
before before letting the door swing shut behind them.

“I really remembered that place better,” Louis says apologetically as they walk across the
parking lot. Harry laughs, shaking his head. “Where do you wanna go now, though?”

“There’s a pizza place about a block away.” Harry shrugs, raking his fingers through his hair.
“It’s still Italian food, that way.” Louis laughs.

“C’mon then,” he says warmly, tugging Harry’s arm gently. They fall into synchronized steps
as they cross over to the side walk.

It’s only about half seven but the sky is already painted a pale, fading orange. The streets are
significantly quieter than usual, or maybe it’s just that he can’t notice anyone else when he
has Harry right next to him. Either way, there’s nothing that can phase him as they enter the
tiny pizza parlor.

“Is this better?” Louis asks, glancing around. A few small tables are crammed against the
wall, a worn wooden counter placed hastily in the back. It’s lit too brightly. with cheap,
swinging lights on the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Harry says confidently. Louis decides he’s picked the right person to pine after.

“You just want a slice?” Louis asks. Harry nods quickly, sitting down at the nearest table.
“Anything to drink?”

“Sprite,” Harry says, “but you aren’t buying-”

“Shh,” Louis interrupts him. He winks before heading up to the counter, pulling out his wallet
and leaving Harry in mid protest.

He brings the food back a few moments later, smirking when Harry glares playfully at him.
He sits across from him, and grins in spite of himself when Harry breaks character and
smiles.

“Thank you,” he says begrudgingly, popping open the soda. Louis does the same, leaning
back in his seat.

“You’re very welcome,” he replies cheekily, taking a sip of his drink.

“So you’re in eleventh, right?” Louis confirms, and Harry nods. “Are you switching to sixth
form next year?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry answers, “I mean, I don’t really wanna deal with a whole new
school…”
“Glad you aren’t gonna abandon me in English, then,” Louis says, grinning. Harry laughs
quietly, sipping his Sprite.

From then on the conversation is easy - everything flows smoothly, effortlessly, as if they’ve
been talking forever. It’s always been like that with Harry - they’ve never had the awkward,
overly polite phase that so many strangers go through, and any fear of discomfort that Louis
had had for the night is gone right away. He doesn’t realize how long they’ve been talking
until they’re walking out an hour later, still just as energetic as before.

“So now what?” Louis asks as they walk back to his car. It’s almost nine and it’s gotten dark
now, the only light coming from the streetlamps and the moon, washing everything in a silver
tint. The parking lot is abandoned by everyone but the two of them, and Louis is grateful for
that.

Harry looks up, looking mildly surprised.

“Oh c’mon, you didn’t think you were gonna get rid of me that easily,” Louis teases. Harry
laughs, shaking his head.

“A movie?” Harry suggests, almost nervously. Louis smiles.

“Lead the way, Styles,” he says, pulling open the driver’s door. It’s a two minute drive, so
when they’re exiting the car again, Louis realizes that they haven’t yet discussed what they’re
seeing.

“Is anything good showing?” Louis asks with mild interest.

“There’s, um, that new Nicholas Sparks film,” Harry says nonchalantly, looking up at Louis
with a small smile. Louis raises his eyebrows.

“You’re into Nicholas Sparks?” he says flatly, smirking. Harry laughs sheepishly.

“I mean, my favorite movie is Titanic,” Harry tells him. Louis stares at him incredulously,
shaking his head in disappointment.

“Honestly, Harold, I thought you were above that,” he says, and Harry bursts out laughing.

“So does that mean we aren’t seeing it?” Harry questions, eyes bright. Louis looks at him for
a moment, smirking and Harry grins back, equally as mischievous.

Finally Louis steps up to the counter with a grin. “Two tickets to-” he pauses, eyes flitting
upward to read the list of films, “The Best of Me.” When he turns around, Harry is glowing,
and Louis decides that it will be worth it to sit through two hours of this just for the look on
his face.

“I’m paying!” Harry says suddenly, pulling a wad of bills out and sliding them through the
gap in the ticket window.

“It’s fair that way,” he adds as he hands Louis’ ticket to him, clearly satisfied with himself.
Louis laughs, walking inside with him.
They sit in two seats towards the back of the theater, where it will be easier to ignore
everyone else. The movie starts a few minutes later and Louis finds himself staring stoically
at it, wondering if there is anyone else besides Harry who could con him into something like
this.

Towards the end of the film, when the protagonists have declared their love for each other
and are wrapped in each other’s arms, Louis’ eyes dart briefly from the screen to Harry’s
hands. Cautiously and hesitantly, he reaches over to brush his fingertips briefly across the
back of Harry’s hand. He waits carefully, watching to see how Harry reacts. His face is
hidden in the darkness of the theater, but he shifts his hand slightly closer to Louis’, and
Louis takes it as a sign that it’s safe to intertwine them.

He locks their fingers together, hoping Harry can’t tell how much his heart is racing. He’s
reminded of a time in year seven when he went on a ‘date’ with a girl and the exact same
thing had happened - he’d ended up taking her hand very shyly, avoiding eye contact and
communication, very similarly, in fact, to what he’s doing right now. But with Harry, it
doesn’t feel childish or foolish, it feels new and exciting and truly, bloody terrifying. And
when Harry responds by curling his fingers around Louis’, letting their hands rest carelessly
on the arm of the seat between them, it’s almost embarrassing how widely he grins at the
floor.

The rest of the movie is a blur because Louis finds it impossible to concentrate on anything
but Harry, the warmth of his touch and how delicate his hands feel in Louis’ It feels like
they’ve been holding hands for ages; their fingers slot together effortlessly, free of tension or
discomfort. Louis is suddenly visited by a fierce, overwhelming desire to protect him, to
shield him from anything bad in the world, because Harry is everything good.

When the credits start to roll and the theater starts to buzz with noise again, Harry shifts
towards Louis with a warm, lazy grin, their hands still entangled.

“So did you like it?” Harry mumbles with a grin, his voice low. Louis smiles, raising his
eyebrows incredulously.

“I thought it was a true masterpiece,” he deadpans. Harry giggles, dropping his head forward
so his curls bounce. Louis bites his lip, grinning.

“You ready to go?” Louis murmurs gently. When Harry nods, Louis stands up, gently pulling
Harry behind him by the hand. Harry doesn’t make any motion to let go, and Louis certainly
doesn’t either, so they keep their hands comfortably intertwined until they exit the theater into
the crisp winter night.

“So,” Louis says, clearing his throat. He chooses to ignore the glaringly obvious fact that
they’re properly holding hands now, in the middle of a crowded parking lot, as he continues.
“That was a true cinematic masterpiece-” he grins when Harry laughs, glancing down at their
intertwined hands, “-but I’m a bit hungry again, are you?” He wonders if Harry can tell that
what it really means is ‘I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet, even just for the night.’

“Yeah, actually, I’m starving,” Harry answers happily, tightening his grip on Louis’ hand.
Louis smiles at him, eyes shining, and tugs him gently towards the car. Once Harry steps
inside, Louis scans the parking lot briefly to make sure that they haven’t been spotted by
anyone familiar,

“So, what do you want?” Louis asks as he opens the car door. Harry shrugs, glancing at Louis
in from the passenger seat with a small smile.

“Um, I wouldn’t mind a desert,” Harry says thoughtfully, eyes bright. Louis glances at him
fondly again, smiling inadvertently.

“I actually know a place that has great milkshakes, but it’s right off the highway if you don’t
mind driving for about twenty minutes.” Harry nods with enthusiasm, shrugging.

“Yeah, sounds great.” Louis gives him a satisfied smile as he starts the car.

“But seriously, how bad was the movie for you?” Harry asks shyly.

“I mean, it was cheesy as fuck,” Louis says truthfully, cocking his head. Harry grins and nods
reluctantly in agreement. “But, that was my first introduction to the Nicholas Sparks world,
and it could’ve been worse.” That part is a lie, but Harry could’ve dragged him to any movie
and he would’ve been happy.

“It’s not that cheesy,” Harry argues, throwing Louis a playful look. Louis raises his eyebrows
condescendingly.

“People don’t fall in love like that,” he says flatly. And then he looks over again at the boy
sitting next to him, and wonders if he’s right about that.

***

The last fifteen minutes of the drive go by quickly. They chat back and forth as easily as they
ever have, as if they weren’t holding onto each other tightly in the darkness of a movie
theater half an hour ago. Harry isn’t sure if that’s a relief or a disappointment.

It's half eleven now, already long past darkness, but Harry feels strangely comfortable.
Louis's presence has done that to him since they first met; somehow, even when the rest of
the world is moving too quickly, overwhelming him, Louis' able to slow it down, to make it
look like everything isn't terrifying, that there is something good in the mess that is his life.

He's not sure how he feels about it. Happy, he supposed, but scared. Overwhelmed by it all,
really.

“We’re here,” Louis says suddenly, and Harry actually has to look around to make sure it’s
the right place. A flickering neon diner sign towers above them, illuminating the small, tin
building claiming to be a restaraunt. It vaguely reminds Harry of something out of a horror
movie.

“I know it looks sketchy,” Louis says, as if he knows what Harry’s thinking, “but honestly,
the food’s great.”
“How’d you find this place?” Harry asks as he steps out of the car, examining the area. It’s
not quite as bad at second glance but if Harry were not with someone who was tattooed,
older, and far stronger than him, and if he didn’t trust Louis very much, he wouldn’t even
consider going inside.

As the two of them walk in together, Louis places a hand gently on his back. Whether it’s for
protection or comfort or stability Harry doesn’t know, but he does know that he doesn’t want
him to remove it.

Louis pushes open the door, revealing a dimly lit dining area. Worn seats are scattered
randomly around, and the only other people it’s hosting are an older couple tucked into a
corner booth. Louis leads him to the nearest table, and they settle across from each other.

A tired, irritated looking woman walks up to them, looking them over once before pulling out
the check and sighing as if it’s the most inconvenient thing she can imagine. “Can I get you
anything?” she asks, eyes flickering between them.

“Yes, please, I will have a chocolate milkshake and…” Louis trails off, gesturing to Harry.

“Strawberry milkshake, please,” Harry says, ignoring Louis’ smirk. She walks off without
another word, leaving the two of them together.

“Strawberry,” Louis says incredulously, shaking his head as if in disappointment. Harry swats
at him playfully from across the table, and Louis laughs.

“So, Harry,” Louis straightens up, tilting his head pointedly, “how does this compare, to other
past dates?”

Harry swallows, crossing his arms over his stomach nervously. “It’s, um, it’s actually my first
one,” he admits shyly, pulling at one of his sleeves.

“Really?” Louis says, genuine surprise written across his face. Harry nods, half shrugging
and biting his lip nervously.

“Well I’m honored, Curly,” Louis says cheekily, grinning. Harry blushes furiously at the
nickname, trying to control the ridiculous smile that’s threatening to spread across his face.

“Well, thanks for everything, Louis,” Harry says shyly, smiling hopefully at him. Louis
smiles back warmly, dropping his gaze quickly, then looking back up.

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says thickly, smile faltering ever so slightly. He opens his mouth as
if to begin to say something, but it’s lost to the fact that at that moment, their waitress returns
with two milkshakes.

“Cheers, Harry,” Louis says, lifting his glass. Harry raises his carefully, tapping it lightly
against Louis’ before taking a sip.

“So was I right? It’s great, right?” Louis says, and he looks so confident that Harry has to
laugh and agree with him. He watches as Louis takes a sip and then grimaces.
“Completely average,” he says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you might’ve oversold it a bit,” Harry agrees, laughing. Louis shrugs, taking another
long drink.

“This is the second time tonight that I’ve brought you to the wrong place,” Louis says,
wincing guiltily. Harry waves a hand dismissively, attempting to push his curls off of his
forehead in vain.

“It’s not bad,” he argues, taking another small sip.

“Not worth a half hour drive,” Louis points out, and Harry shrugs, even though he’s privately
glad for the extra time with Louis. “I remembered it as better.”

“How’d you find this place?” Harry asks, genuinely interested. Louis stirs his straw around
the rim of his cup, taking a sip before answering.

“I used to come here a lot with my mum and sisters when I was younger,” he says shortly,
and something that Harry can’t quite place flickers across his face. It’s gone a moment later,
though, when he looks up and smirks at Harry.

“So was strawberry the right call?” he says slyly, and Harry tosses a napkin at him in mock
annoyance, unable to suppress his grin. Louis breaks into a warm, genuine smile a moment
later, and despite himself, Harry giggles. Louis does too, seconds later, and for several long
moments they’re just laughing at nothing in particular, unable to catch their breaths, or form
coherent sentences. When they finally pull themselves together, Harry straightening up and
Louis running a hand lazily through his fringe, they just smile at each other, until Louis clears
his throat and Harry shakes his head.

They pass the rest of their time at the diner by chatting easily. Louis tells him about the chaos
having four younger sisters and Harry tells him about the difficulties of growing up with one
older one. They complain about school and trade stories of friends and when the bill is paid
and they’re walking back to Louis’ car, Harry can’t help the disappointment bubbling in his
stomach.

“What time is it?” he asks, yawning as they step into the car. Louis glances at his phone as he
starts the engine.

“Twelve forty five,” he tells Harry, “you tired?” Harry shakes his head, overlooking Louis’
fond smile.

The drive back is fairly quiet, both of them clearly wrapped up in their own thoughts, until
they’re about ten minutes away and Louis curses suddenly, pulling over on the side of the
highway.

“What happened?” Harry asks, blinking. Louis turns to him, wincing.

“Out of gas,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks back at Harry, almost on the
verge of laughter. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Harry says honestly, and it is, because he doesn’t mind spending more time with
Louis. That’s the last thing he minds.

“I’m gonna call triple A,” Louis tells him, pulling out his phone. Harry waits in the car as
Louis dials the number, talking brashly on the phone for no more than a minute, clearly short
of patience.

“Should we go outside, to kill time?” Harry suggests. Louis nods with enthusiasm, opening
his door quickly. Harry does the same, stepping out of the car and taking a deep breath, Louis
settles on the hood of the car, patting some space behind him for Harry, so he smiles and joins
him.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Louis says, looking pointedly at Harry. “You wanna play truth or
dare?”

Harry laughs incredulously, raising his eyebrows. “Seriously?” he says, shaking his head, “I
don’t think I’ve played that game since year eight.”

“Well, you’ve been missing out,” Louis replies, smirking, “c’mon, we need to kill time
somehow.”

“Alright,” Harry agrees. Louis grins triumphantly, making Harry laugh. “You go first.”

“Alright, truth or dare, Styles?” Louis says cheekily, pacing thoughtfully in front of him.

“Truth,” Harry says after a moment of consideration. Louis presses his lips together, as if he’s
trying to decide on what the best idea would be, until he turns back to Harry.

“Alright,” Louis says, “honestly, how was tonight for you?”

“It was really, really fun,” Harry answers honestly. Louis raises his eyebrows in disbelief, and
Harry swats at him in mock annoyance. “I’m serious!” he argues, causing Louis to grin.

“Well, I’m glad,” Louis says, “and dare, if you were wondering.”

“Okay,” Harry says slowly, “um…” he pauses, biting his lip, “do a cartwheel on the road.”

Louis smirks, stretching his arms exaggeratedly. “Is that the best you can think of?” he teases,
strutting over to the open highway. To Harry’s surprise, he delivers a flawless cartwheel,
bowing dramatically when he straightens up and fixes his fringe. Shaking his head, Harry
claps.

“How’d you do that?” Harry laughs, as Louis walks back to him and settles down on the
hood of his car.

“I’ve got four younger sisters and all of them are gymnastic prodigies,” Louis explains with a
grin, running his fingers through his hair again. Harry shakes his head in disbelief.

“Truth or dare, Harold?” Louis replies, smirking. Harry pauses for a moment, pursing his
lips.
“Dare,” he says carefully, causing Louis to raise his eyebrows and smirk cheekily.

“Sing something,” Louis says immediately, as if he’s been waiting. Harry bites his lip
hesitantly, dropping his gaze - he hasn’t sang in front of anyone since he was very young and
he hates the sound of his voice anyway. Louis pouts dramatically, breaking into a grin when
Harry gives him a small smile.

“Please?” Louis presses him, nudging his shoulder. “I guarantee you’re better than I would
be.” He pauses, waiting for Harry to answer, then adds teasingly, “I didn’t buy all of your
music for nothing.”

“I didn’t tell you to buy my music,” Harry points out lamely, pushing his hair out of his face.
Louis shrugs, fixing Harry with an unimpressed stare.

“Fine,” Louis sighs disappointedly, pouting once more. “Okay, if you aren’t gonna do that,
than your dare is to try to hail over a passing car.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and standing up. The road is completely deserted
save for the two of them, and he glances back at Louis exasperatedly as he waits on the edge
of the highway.

“This is very entertaining for me,” Louis calls dryly, laughing as Harry scowls at him. A few
moments later, two headlights appear on the highway. Louis claps as Harry juts out his arm,
rolling his eyes as the car drives past them, watching as the taillights fade in the distance.

“Wonderful,” Louis says sarcastically, but his eyes are full of warmth. Harry snorts and sits
back down, casting him one last irritated look before grinning.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Harry pauses, debating whether or not
he should say what he’s thinking.

“Why, um-” he glances down, tugging at his sleeve, “why’d you ask me out?” He hopes it
comes out nonchalantly but there’s a hint of desperation and hopefulness in his voice.

Louis doesn’t answer right away, but he tilts his head at Harry, frowning slightly. Harry runs
his fingers through his hair self consciously, biting his lip.

“Because I like you,” Louis finally answers quietly. “Seriously, I think you’re like, funny, and
you’re cool, and you’re really, really gorgeous.” Harry blushes, biting his lip and looking
away. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I was just… surprised,” Harry says after a moment, not looking at him. They’re both quiet
for another moment, until Louis breaks the silence.

“Why’d you say yes?” When Harry looks up he has a small, playful smirk, his eyebrows
raised expectantly.
“Because, um, I really like spending time with you, and you’re just so-” he cuts off abruptly
because there truly isn’t a word that could capture what Louis really is, nothing that would do
him justice. Heart pounding, he finds the nerve to look up at Louis, who’s already staring at
him with soft eyes.

“Truth or dare, Harry?” Louis asks, catching him off guard. Harry blinks.

“Truth,” Harry say, regaining some of his earlier confidence. Louis tilts his head slightly,
staring at him with a soft smile. His cheeks are glowing with the moonlight, washing him in a
bright light and he’s so, so beautiful. Harry wonders for the hundredth time what Louis saw
in him.

Louis doesn’t answer right away, but keeps his eyes on him, watching him carefully. Harry
stares back at him, smile fading slightly as he waits for Louis to say something. He can feel
himself blushing as Louis keeps looking at him through concentrated eyes, looking away
briefly in self consciousness.

“Truth,” Louis repeats finally, and Harry’s face brightens again. “Okay, um…” he hesitates
for a fraction of a second to bite his lip, eyes still trained on Harry, before continuing, “Have
you ever kissed anyone?”

And then the whole atmosphere changes, the space between them growing heavier with
anticipation. Harry’s eyes flicker down, his heart pounding as he debates whether or not to
tell Louis the truth.

“No,” he breathes, barely audible. He half expects Louis to laugh, but he doesn’t - he looks
seriously at Harry, eyes soft and full of something that Harry can’t quite place.

“Do you, um,” Louis pauses, something very much like nervousness flickering across his
face, “do you want to?”

Harry’s heart skips a beat, looking up at Louis timidly and with disbelief. He takes a shaky
breath, swallowing.

“Okay,” he whispers hoarsely. Louis nods in response, extending his arm cautiously to wrap
around Harry’s waist, tugging him closer so that the space between them vanishes and their
hips and thighs and stomachs are touching, warmth spreading over Harry everywhere that
Louis touches him. His instinct is to wrap his arms around Louis’ neck but he holds back,
instead softly pressing his palm and fingertips to Louis’ cheeks. His hands are trembling and
his is breath caught in his throat, and maybe his fear is noticeable, because Louis pulls back
slightly.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, soft and kind.

“A bit,” Harry admits quietly. Louis hesitates, loosening his grip on Harry’s waist, and Harry
shakes his head.

“You can, um, you can still kiss me if you want though,” he says earnestly, eyes wide and
anxious, as if it’s not the only thing he’s wanted for months. Louis’ eyes brighten and he nods
again, and in one swift movement he leans forward and they’re kissing.

It’s electric, the air around them alive with static, and Harry doesn’t know whether he should
focus on the way Louis’ hands are firm against his back or the way his arms are pressed
against Louis’ chest or their lips, pressed together softly and sweetly and gently. It’s
completely innocent, there’s no hint of going any further, but it’s enough, nothing’s ever felt
better than this, not for Harry and not for anyone else.

Harry pulls apart first, or maybe it’s Louis or maybe it’s mutual, he doesn’t know, all he
knows is that he doesn’t want it to stop, not now and not ever. He hadn’t realized he was
holding his breath but he lets it out now, in a breathless, shaky giggle. He works up the
courage to look up at Louis, who’s grinning at the ground with his eyes still closed.

“Um…” Louis begins to speak, but he trails off, laughing nervously mid sentence and raking
his fingers through his hair. He stares at Harry for a moment, both of them with shy, giddy
smiles, before he shakes his head and sits down heavily on the hood of his car. Harry joins
him a moment later, sitting extremely close to him.

“Harry?” Louis says softly, looking at him. Harry looks up, heart racing. “You’re beautiful.”
Harry shuts his eyes, overwhelmed with emotion and confusion and something that feels
dangerously close to love for Louis. Somewhat inadvertently, he drops his head onto Louis’
shoulder. In response Louis wraps an arm around his waist, drawing him closer and Harry’s
pretty sure nothing has ever felt better than the way it does to be held by Louis.

This is warmth. This is protection and comfort and happiness. This is safety.

It’s too good to last though, because moments later the sound of a truck roaring in the
distance interrupts them. Harry winces, lifting his head reluctantly off of Louis’ shoulder as it
pulls up to a halt beside them. Louis exhales heavily, raking a hand through his hair. He
doesn’t retract his harm from Harry’s waist, though, not even when a tired, disgruntled
looking man steps out of the van and approaches them.

“You two were the ones who called about the car that ran out of gas?” he asks gruffly.

“Yeah, uh, if you could just fill it up there, that’d be great, thanks,” Louis answers tiredly,
gesturing vaguely to the gas tank. When he walks away, presumably to fill up the tank, Harry
works up the courage to glance up at Louis. Louis looks down at him, grinning half
apologetically.

“Hi,” he says, his face breaking into a smile. Harry blushes furiously, averting his gaze
momentarily to gather his thoughts.

“Hey,” he replies softly, biting his lip in a vain attempt to control his smile. Louis takes a
sharp breath, as if he’s preparing to say something else, when the guy walks back, pressing
his lips together when he sees the way they’re snuggled against each other.

“That’ll be seventy quid,” the man says shortly. Louis nods quickly, pulling his arm away
from Harry to dig through his pockets. He pulls out a wad of bills, shoving it towards him.
“Thanks. Keep the change,” he mumbles, pushing himself off the hood of the car. The man
stalks back to his truck without a goodbye, and Harry hesitates before standing up and
opening the passenger door and settling in.

“So, I’m afraid that I gave you very low expectations for any future dates to live up to,”
Louis says jokingly. Harry laughs, leaning his head back to rest on the seat.

“No it was really, really good,” he says truthfully, looking up shyly at Louis. Louis grins,
dropping his head forward and drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Would you wanna do it again soon, then?” Louis rushes, keeping his eyes trained
downwards. Harry stares at him, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Really?” he whispers. Louis turns to give him a soft, confused, smile.

“Yeah,” he answers quietly.

“Why?” Harry says desperately, without thinking. He’s still considering whether it could all
be a joke, or some extreme attempt to be nice to him, anything else that would make sense.

Louis bites his lip, glancing out the window. “I really like you, Harry,” he says, gentle and
earnest. Harry runs his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath.

“I like you too,” he says quietly, driving his nails discreetly into his wrist nervously. Louis
turns to smile at him warmly, and it’s all overwhelming and Harry swallows the lump that’s
lodged itself in his throat.

About a minute later Louis pulls up in front of Harry’s house. The clock reads 1:49 am, and
Harry suddenly wants to laugh at the events of the night.

“Is your mum gonna kill me?” Louis asks, and despite the lightness of his tone there’s a slight
nervousness behind it. Harry laughs, shaking his head.

“She’s probably asleep,” Harry tells him. Louis nods absently, tapping his fingers against the
dashboard.

“I’ll see you soon?” Louis asks him, sounding almost hopeful. Harry nods, smiling despite
himself.

“Thank you so much, Louis,” Harry whispers, and he wonders if Louis can tell that it’s not
just for the night, it’s for all the kindness and warmth he’s given him since they first met.
Louis turns to smile at him, nodding.

“Of course,” he replies. Before Harry can reply he leans forward swiftly and presses a soft,
brief kiss to his cheek, pulling away almost immediately. Harry blushes at the ground
furiously, biting his lip to hide his uncontrollable smile.

“Bye, Louis,” he murmurs a moment later, forcing himself to meet his eyes as he opens the
door. Louis’ eyes are soft and full of kindness, and it makes Harry’s heart ache.
 He holds himself together as he walks quickly up the staircase and lets himself in. His house
is empty and shrouded in darkness, his mother having gone to bed already, so Harry allows
himself to fall against the wall, bringing his hands to his mouth in elation.

The night hadn’t felt real, it had felt more like something out of a movie than something from
his life. Louis himself was like something out of a dream, too good, too bright to be real.

Don’t be stupid, says a small, mocking voice in his head, wait until he finds out what you’re
really like.

Harry swallows, trying to ignore the heavy, growing pit in his stomach. But it’s too late now,
his thoughts have spiraled further - will Louis want a casual relationship, or does he want to
be officially together? What will he want to do about coming out? How will other people
react if they find out about the two of them?

Harry takes a deep breath, attempting to calm down but it still all feels like too much. He
heads upstairs slowly, head still spinning with fear and anxiety, but also with infatuation and
excitement and happiness.

When he collapses into his bed, his thoughts are of Louis, and his eyes and his kiss and his
kindness.

It’s a good memory to fall asleep to.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for ending on an angsty note oops.

Thank you to the people who've left comments, you're all lovely and I hope you find
twenty dollars on the street today.

Please leave comments/kudos/suggestions!

Also, if you have any questions about the plot/characters/relationships/literally anything

pertaining to the story, feel free to leave it in the comments or my ask on tumblr, I
promise to answer it.

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes

Sorry for not updating last week, I'm honestly drained from school and I have some
personal stuff going on and it's been really hard to find the time to write. I'm gonna try
to update once a week, but it might be more likely to be once every two for a while, at
least until I get my life together.

Thanks to Jane for betaing, I love you.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Harry wakes up the next morning, it takes him a moment to realize that the night
before had, in fact, been real, and not a longing dream. He grins into his pillow at the
memory of their kiss, not caring about the fact that he was probably putting on an astonishing
display of naiivity. A moment later he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and running a
hand through his mussed curls.

He grabs his phone from the bedside table, wincing when he sees the amount of texts he
missed the night before. Sighing, he opens them up.

Niall, 7:02 pm: have fun tonight mate !!!!

Liam, 7:31 pm: how’s it going??????

Liam, 8:08 pm: harryyyyyy

Liam, 8:12 pm: i’m gonna assume this means it’s going well.

Liam 9:15 pm: ok, i guess i’ll talk to you tmw

Liam 9:15 pm: just text me if anything goes wrong

Niall, 10:06 pm: ayeee how’s tommo?

Niall 10:19 pm: ohhhh, i get why you’re ignoring me ;)

Sophia, 11:30 pm: HARRY HOW ARE YOU IS IT ALL GOOD??

Sophia, 11:45 pm: damn, you’re still out?

Sophia: 11:59 pm: ok just text me when you get home xxxx
Liam, 12:07 am: HARRY WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING UR PHONE IS
EVERYTHING OK WHERE ARE YOU

Liam, 12:09 am: can u plz text me back im worried

Liam, 12:34 am: ok im gonna assume you're asleep PLEASE call me in the morning.

Niall, 12:45 am: harry call liam please that dickhead just woke me up because you
won't answer his fucking texts

Niall, 12:46 am: and also lemme know how it went with louis

Harry tries to ignore the small, nagging twinge of disappointment that there isn’t a text from
Louis, taking a deep breath as he opens a new group chat with his friends.

Date was really good, he types quickly, considering it for a moment before pressing send.
Before he can even turn his phone off it’s buzzing again.

Liam: wow you’re alive i wasn’t sure

Niall: THAT’S REALLY ALL YOU’RE GONNA GIVE US

Liam: but it was ok right??????

Sophia: TELL US

Harry sighs, shaking his head in amusement before typing back a quick response.

I’ll meet you at the diner for breakfast if you really want to hear about it. He waits until they
all agree to be there before he pulls on a clean tee shirt and jeans, grabbing a jacket on his
way out.

As he walks, he replays the events of the night before in detail for the first time. It doesn’t
feel real, it can’t possibly be real, because these things don’t happen to him. He doesn’t get
kissed on the side of the highway and get called beautiful and get to feel like he’s worth
something, get to feel special and beautiful and wanted.

Louis was the first person who’s made him feel like that in as long as he can remember.

And it’s so scary, so incredibly terrifying being thrown into this sudden mess of feelings. He
knows what’s going to happen; he’s going to get too attached, become too dependent on
Louis and not be able to deal with the crushing rejection that will inevitably come. He’s never
had his heart broken before, not really, and he knows he won’t be strong enough to handle it
when it happens.

You aren’t even together, he reminds himself, shutting his eyes, what makes you think he’ll
even want to go any further?

Oh, god. He really needs to stop letting himself get caught up in his thoughts like this. He
takes a few shallow, shaky breaths in a vain attempt to calm down before entering the diner.
Unsurprisingly, Niall, Sophia and Liam are all crammed into a table in the back corner. Niall
spots him first, waving him over exaggeratedly with an eager, impatient expression. Harry
walks over to them, heart pounding.

“So?” Sophia says impatiently, as soon as he’s within earshot. “How was it?”

“Really, really great,” Harry admits, smiling despite himself. Niall waves his hands
desperately, signaling for more information.

“What’d you do?” he asks eagerly.

“Why didn’t you answer anyone’s texts?” Liam adds, slightly irritably. Sophia turns to scowl
at him, and he raises his hands apologetically.

“We got dinner and then went to a movie, and then we got dessert,” Harry tells them after a
moment of hesitation, reluctant to give them every detail. Three pairs of eyes stare back at
him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“What time did you get back?” Liam asks after a moment of apparent delegation, and Niall
and Sophia turn to glare at him.

“Jesus Christ, Li, you aren’t his fucking mother!” Niall snaps, exasperated, just as Sophia
says “Shut up Liam!” He sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“Sorry, Harry, go on,” Liam says, defeated. Niall nods with satisfaction, turning back to
Harry.

“Um,” he laughs, running a hand absently through his curls, “I got home at like two.”

“Damn, what were you guys doing?” Niall asks, smirking. Liam throws him a dirty look.

“His car ran out of gas,” Harry explains, not wanting to go into further detail.

“Romantic,” Sophia says dryly. Harry shakes his head in defense.

“No it… it was really great,” Harry insists. Sophia and Niall raise their eyebrows, looking
pleadingly at him.

“Did you snog?” Niall blurts out, as if he can’t wait another moment. Harry makes the
mistake of hesitating for a fraction of a second, and it’s enough.

“Ha! I can’t believe this,” Niall grins incredulously, shaking his head. “Ah, you gotta make
this official.”

“Just because we kissed doesn’t mean he wants to make it official,” Harry argues weakly, and
Sophia rolls her eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Harry, you always assume the worst, I’m sure he wants to date you,” she says
impatiently, as Niall nods in agreement.
“Also, he’s really into you,” Niall adds. Harry turns to him skeptically.

“How do you know that?” Harry asks sharply. Niall shrugs casually.

“Zayn told me earlier,” he answers, as if it’s obvious. Sophia and Liam narrow their eyes at
him, and Liam’s head snaps up.

“How often do you talk to Zayn Malik?” Liam asks.

“Eh, I dunno, we’ve been texting a bit.” Harry blinks. “But that’s irrelevant! Harry, you and
Louis have to go out again.”

“I mean, we probably will,” Harry answers, tucking a tuft of hair behind his ear. Niall and
Sophia cheer, and even Liam gives him a begrudging smile.

And for a moment, he’s able to relax.

***

Louis is woken unpleasantly early by his phone. Groaning, he snatches it off the bedside table
to find, unsurprisingly, that it’s Zayn.

“ ‘ello?” he mutters, sitting up and stretching.

“How was it, Romeo?” Zayn says. Louis can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Bro, it’s too early for this,” he says tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“That’s a shame, because I’m outside your house,” Zayn replies nonchalantly. Louis rolls his
eyes.

“Alright, come up then,” Louis says exasperatedly, throwing his comforter off. A minute
later, Zayn pushes the door open.

“You could’ve given me some warning,” Louis says irritably, running his fingers through his
hair. Zayn shrugs, settling into Louis’ desk chair.

“So? How was it?”

“It was…” Louis pauses as a fond, stupid grin spreads across his face, “...pretty great. One of
the better dates I’ve ever had.”

“What’d you guys do?” Zayn presses, smirking.

“We got pizza and we saw a movie and then we went to a diner and snogged on the side of
the highway,” Louis answers truthfully. Zayn raises his eyebrow, obviously caught off guard.

“Is he here?” Zayn asks. Louis frowns at him before realizing what he was implying, and he
responds by throwing a pillow at him.
“No he’s not fucking here, I wouldn’t let you in if he was,” he says jokingly. Zayn snorts. “It
wasn’t like that,” Louis adds quietly, raking his fingers through his hair.

“Wasn’t like what?” Zayn questions, seeming genuinely interested.

“Wasn’t… I’m not interested in him for sex,” Louis says, rolling his eyes at his own naiivity.
“And anyway, he’s definitely a virgin.”

“So what are your plans with this kid, if you aren’t gonna fuck him?” Zayn asks. Louis
throws him a dark look and stretches, leaning back onto his headboard.

“I dunno, I think we’re going out again.” Zayn purses his lips. “What?” Louis asks, sitting
up.

“Louis,” Zayn says carefully, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t, you know, keep up this thing
with Harry-” Louis raises his eyebrows, “-just like, be careful, okay? ‘Cause I mean, the last
guy you dated, Luke or whatever, you got tired of him really fast and, like, Harry’s sixteen
and from the little bit that I know him, doesn’t seem like he’s prepared to get dumped. So if
you’re gonna do this, just throw caution to the wind, alright?”

Louis frowns, biting his lip. “I’m not just messing around with him so I can discard him in a
month,” Louis says, and it comes out sharper than he intended. “I like Harry.”

“Alright,” Zayn says, with a small hint of defeat in his voice, “as long as you aren’t rushing
to say ‘I love you’ also, that’d be just as bad as getting tired of him.”

“I won’t - I don’t love him,” Louis sputter. Zayn snorts, raising his hands in surrender.

“Whatever you say, Lou,” he says, with a hint of smugness. “Oh, and also, he had a great
time too.”

“And how do you know that?” Louis says dejectedly, fluffing his pillow.

“Niall told me,” Zayn answers simply. Louis straightens up, frowning at Zayn incredulously.

“You and Niall are in touch?” he asks. Zayn shrugs, nodding.

“Yeah, and apparently Harry’s really into you,” he tells Louis, with a very knowing look in
his eye.

Louis doesn’t let him see the ridiculous, inadvertent grin that spreads across his face.

***

They do go out again, after school on Tuesday.

In English, Louis suggests that they ‘get together’ after school, leaving it up to Harry’s
interpretation what that means. Harry nods and smiles and blushes, and after school they
drive to a small, desolate coffee shop where they sit in the windowsill and try to narrate the
thoughts of passersby. Louis teases him for getting a smoothie and Harry chastises him for
putting five packets of sugar in his coffee and more than once, Harry has to remind himself
that this is reality, that he hasn’t cooked it up as some elaborate dream.

When Louis drops him off he presses a quick, soft kiss to his lips, much briefer than their
first but equally as wonderful. Harry flashes him a fast, shy smile (only because he’s unable
to form any coherent sentences), before exiting the car.

After that they fall into a pattern; every two days or so, one of them will suggest a date
(without using that name for it, of course), and the other will agree. Louis drags him to some
Marvel movie (“I sat through Nicholas Sparks, Harold, it’s only fair,”) and Harry talks him
into browsing an expensive clothing store that A. not even Louis can afford and B. is dubbed
as “the biggest waste of money I’ve ever seen” by Louis himself.

Neither of them have brought up labels yet. They hold hands pretty much the whole time
they’re together and a few times, Louis’ wrapped an arm protectively around Harry’s
shoulders or waist (which Harry happily leans in to), and they’ve kissed most dates too, some
of them lasting longer than others. It’s not a big deal. Harry doesn’t go breathless at the
memory of it, or anything like that.

As for school, everything has stayed exactly the same. They still flirt shamelessly in English
and they still greet each other in the hallways but there hasn’t been any hint of them being
more than friends. Harry’s guess is that Louis wants it that way, which is fine. It’s easier like
that anyway. Dating Louis would mean that inevitably, Louis would have to find out about
Chris, and his cuts, and every other unfixable, horrible problems in his life, and Harry will
never be ready for that.

Still, though, it’s deflating when after two weeks of casual dates, Louis hasn’t said anything
about going further in their relationship. Harry supposes it’s unfair to be annoyed at him -
after all, he’s let Louis initiate everything, but still, it’s frustrating.

The day before break begins, Harry’s leaning against his locker in the hallway with Niall and
Liam, waiting desperately for the bell to ring.

“So, are you going out with Tommo again soon?” Niall asks. He’s taken it upon himself to
extract every detail of every date from Harry. Liam, on the other hand, goes mysteriously
mute every time Louis is brought up. Right now, he becomes suddenly, intensely focused on
polishing his phone screen.

“Um, I guess so,” Harry mumbles. It’s not that he minds talking about Louis because he
doesn’t, at all, but he’s still desperately anxious about other people at school finding out.

“So are you guys, like boyfriends, then?” Niall questions, keeping his voice low. Harry
shakes his head, wishing he would drop it.

“But you kiss?” Harry nods. “And hold hands?” Harry nods again. “And go out, like, every
other day?” Sighing, Harry gives him a final reluctant nod. “Hate to break it to you, mate, but
you are as together as it gets.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Harry mutters, eyeing the several people walking by. The bell
chimes, pulling him from his thoughts. “I have to go, bakery shift.”

“Ah, right,” Liam says, re-joining the conversation. “Text us later, mate.” Harry nods, giving
them a quick wave before heading out of the building.

You are as together as it gets. If Niall has a point, Harry certainly isn’t going to admit it.

***

On the last day before break, Louis doesn’t go straight home from school. He takes his car
and he heads over to the bakery where Harry works, only because his mother asked him to
get cupcakes and not at all because he wants to see Harry. When he enters Harry’s back is to
the door and he’s busying himself with something behind the counter.

“Excuse me?” Louis says, mock impatiently, and Harry turns in surprise. He grins when he
sees Louis, his whole face lighting up, and Louis decides it was worth it to show up just for
that.

“Hey,” Harry says warmly, leaning against the counter. “What are you doing here?”

“I really wanted some baked goods,” Louis says, walking up to him, “and also, I knew you
were working here today, so I figured I might as well keep you company.” Harry smiles.

“You wanna come back here?” Harry asks, gesturing to the counter.

“I don’t know if I’m important enough for that honor,” Louis teases. Harry laughs, and Louis
joins him behind the counter.

“So I need to get a dozen cupcakes,” Louis explains, throwing an apron on over his tee shirt.
“It’s your job to help me with that, is it not?”

Harry laughs, grabbing a cardboard box from off of the counter. “What flavor do you need?”

“Half chocolate, half vanilla?” Louis requests, and Harry nods as he opens the display case,
handing Louis the box a few moments later.

“That’ll be twenty quid,” Harry informs him, and Louis shakes his head.

“So expensive,” he says teasingly, handing him a few bills. “Keep the change,” he adds,
winking. Harry rolls his eyes, smiling.

“So don’t you have to bring that to someone?” Harry asks shyly, as he busies himself with
refilling a cupcake tray. Louis smirks, setting the box down.

“Trying to get rid of me already?”

“No! No, I was just…” Harry trails off, blushing. “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Well I was planning on keeping you company, but apparently I’m not wanted,” Louis teases.
“No, I like having you here,” Harry replies. Louis smiles, leaning against the wall.

“I suppose I can stay, then.” He takes a few steps towards Harry, so that they’re standing very
close, facing each other. Harry looks up nervously, biting his lip, and Louis leans in
cautiously and slowly.

“Harry!” a voice says, and then there’s the sound of a door slamming, and the two of them
jump apart. Heart racing, Louis looks up to see an older woman standing in the back of the
bakery, hand on her hip. Louis glances back at Harry, who’s clearly flustered.

“Um, hi Barbara,” Harry rushes, running his hand through his curls. The woman, Barbara,
looks between the two of them.

“Is this your boyfriend?” she asks, eyeing Louis. Louis spins around to look at Harry. He
swallows, biting his lip.

“He’s - we’re - um-”

“Yeah,” Louis interrupts him without thinking. Harry raises his eyebrows, a surprised smile
spreading across his face. “I am?” Louis adds, talking more to Harry then Barbara.

“Yeah,” Harry says softly, smiling at him.

“Yes,” Louis says with more confidence, grinning. “I’m Louis Tomlinson, nice to meet you.”
She nods at him, eyes still darting between the two of them.

“Okay, well, Harry, is it okay if I let you close up here today? I have to get to an
appointment.” Harry nods eagerly.

“Yeah that’s fine.” She smiles at the two of them, waving quickly before walking out.

“Nice meeting you!” Louis calls after her weakly, and then the door swings shut and they’re
left alone together. Louis forces himself to look at Harry, whose eyes are trained at the
ground.

“Is that okay?” he blurts out, and Harry looks up. “I mean, that I said we were like, properly
together, do you want that?”

“Do you?” Harry asks shyly, tugging at the sleeve of his jumper. Louis nods with enthusiasm.

“I really like you, Harry,” he says truthfully, and Harry gives him a small, nervous smile.
“And like…I do wanna be like, you know, boyfriends. Exclusive, and all that.”

“Me too,” Harry says, smiling bashfully. Louis grins, running his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” he says happily, laughing. Harry giggles, and then throws his arms tightly around
Louis’ neck. Louis responds by tightening his arms around Harry’s waist, letting Harry bury
his face in Louis’s neck. They pull apart a few moments later, so Louis presses and soft,
sweet kiss to his lips before he can say anything else. When they break apart they’re both
giggling.
“So, I just need to close up here,” Harry says, glancing down shyly, “but afterwards, we can
do something?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” Louis says, nodding, “I just have to drop the cupcakes off at my house,
and then we can do anything.”

“Okay,” Harry says, smiling softly. Louis leans back, watching him with a fond smile as he
folds his apron neatly and tucks it away.

It’s a short drive to Louis’ house, but he uses it to contemplate what he’s going to tell Harry
about his family. On one hand, there’s absolutely no way he can come out to them, it’s out of
the question, but on the other hand, breaking that news to Harry is going to be a rough
conversation. As if on cue, Harry speaks up as they pull into the driveway.

“Wait, so are you gonna tell your family that we’re like, you know officially together now?”
Harry asks, slightly nervous. Louis bites his lip, tapping his fingers against the steering
wheel.

“Hazza…” Louis begins, smiling when Harry giggles at the nickname. “I, ah, didn’t tell you
this before but my mom and stepdad are like, really homophobic.” He holds his breath,
waiting for Harry to react. When he doesn’t say anything, Louis continues. “I should’ve told
you that before, I know, and if, like, you don’t wanna deal with it, than I understand-”

“Louis,” Harry interrupts him, shaking his head firmly, “it’s fine.” Louis smiles, relief
clouding his gaze.

“Really?” he says, and Harry nods.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m really sorry you have to deal with
that, though.” Louis reaches over and squeezes his hand.

“Um, so, before we go in, I just wanna warn you about what to expect.” Louis’ nervousness
must be visible, because Harry reaches across and squeezes his hand. “My stepdad is the
worst person you’ll ever meet, so we don’t have to talk to him for long.” Harry laughs
quietly, nodding. “The twins are gonna love you, they’re probably gonna try to get you to
play with them, but you don’t have to endorse them, I promise. Lottie’s twelve and she’s in
that phase still, so she’s probably gonna be really shy, and Fizzy’s nine, so she isn’t gonna try
too hard to be social.” Harry laughs again.

“Lou, relax, it’s gonna be fine,” Harry reassures him. Louis smiles fondly at him for a
moment before clearing his throat and turning away, opening the door. He reaches over to
take Harry’s hand as they get out of the car, and lets go only when he rings the bell. Jay opens
the door, smiling warmly at the two of them.

“Harry, lovely to see you again darling, come in boys,” she says kindly. Harry smiles and
greets her as he steps in after Louis. “The girls and my husband are all down here, have you
met them all yet?”
“No, I was just gonna introduce them to him,” Louis cuts in, nodding at Harry. “Is everyone
in the kitchen?” Jay nods, leading the two of them inside. Louis turns to give Harry an
encouraging, half apologetic smile as they follow her.

“Hello, everyone,” Louis says as they walk in, and all four girls sitting around the marble
countertop look up. Lottie raises her eyebrows at Harry curiously. “This is my friend, Harry
Styles.” Harry’s smile flickers for a fraction of a second, unnoticeable by anyone but Louis.
“Harry, this is Phoebe, Daisy, Lottie, and Fizzy.”

“Hello,” Harry says cheerfully, waving at the girls. Lottie smiles back shyly, and Louis’ eyes
suddenly fall on Mark who’s standing in the corner, watching the whole exchange
disinterestedly.

“Harry, how do you get your hair like that?” Daisy says, eyes wide. Harry looks down at her,
smiling in surprise.

“Oh it just looks like that on it’s own,” he answers kindly.

“Can I touch it?” Daisy asks and Harry laughs, crouching down to her level so the twins can
pat his hair gently.

“How come Louis’ hair doesn’t look like that?” Phoebe says, frowning.

“I guess we just have different types of hair,” Harry replies, turning to smirk at Louis, who
shakes his head, mock offended.

“I like yours better Harry,” Daisy declares, and Phoebe nods. Harry laughs, shaking his head
and straightening up.

“So do I,” Louis agrees, raising his eyebrows at Harry. From the corner, Mark clears his
throat, and Louis’ face darkens.

“And this is my stepdad Mark,” Louis adds icily. Harry reaches forward to shake his hand,
nodding politely.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” he says, and Mark nods absently.

“Likewise,” he pauses, “so how do you two know each other?”

“We have English together,” Louis says shortly, turning to Harry. “We can go upstairs if you
want,” he says in a low voice.

“Harry, me and Daisy wanna make your hair prettier!” Phoebe announces loudly. Louis opens
his mouth to turn her down gently, but Harry interrupts him.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” he says sweetly, and the girls cheer in delight. Louis raises his
eyebrows incredulously, and Harry shrugs with a grin as Daisy grabs his hand, tugging him
into the living room.
“I suppose you won’t mind if I watch this, then,” Louis says cheekily, following the three of
them. Harry giggles, shaking his head.

“Harry, sit on the couch,” Phoebe instructs, so he does, and Louis settles across from him,
smirking. Phoebe grabs a plastic, pink box from across the room and sits behind him, next to
Daisy.

‘Making Harry’s hair prettier’ turns out to mean pulling incessantly at his curls with tiny
plastic brushes and clipping bright bows onto his hair, which Harry puts up with graciously.
The girls chatter on about their school and their friends and Harry humors them by smiling
and asking questions and as Louis watches it all unfold, he decides that it’s probably not
possible to be more infatuated by someone than he is with this boy.

“Done!” Daisy says proudly, after about twenty minutes of this, and Louis laughs as obvious
relief clouds Harry’s face. “Look at how nice it looks, Harry,” she says, thrusting a toy mirror
in his face.

“Oh, lovely job,” Harry says to them, and they beam.

“Yeah, you look beautiful Harry,” Louis says, smirking. He pulls out his phone and raises the
camera, grinning at Harry, who blushes and looks away.

A moment later Jay enters, tilting her head in confusion as she observes the scene in front of
her. “What’s going on in here, darlings?”

“We gave Harry a makeover!” Phoebe tells her, gesturing enthusiastically to Harry, who nods
in confirmation. Jay laughs, shaking her head.

“Girls, give Harry a break,” she says sympathetically, and the two of them pout.

“No, it was great,” Harry says with a laugh. Jay smiles warmly at him before gesturing for
Daisy and Phoebe to follow her, so they bound energetically out of the room, leaving Louis
and Harry alone. The two of them look at each other for a moment before they burst out
laughing.

“I did warn you,” Louis points out once he catches his breath.

“No, I didn’t mind,” Harry laughs. Louis raises his eyebrows skeptically. “Really,” Harry
insists.

“Well, you do look very pretty,” Louis tells him, reaching over to pluck a bow out of his hair.
Harry blushes, and they’re quiet for a moment.

“We can leave if you want, I just needed to drop off the cupcakes,” Louis tells him, and Harry
nods.

“Okay, let me just…” he trails off as he pulls the rest of the bows from his hair, and Louis
snorts.

“So, that’s the family,” Louis says as they walk to the car together.
“Your sisters are really sweet,” Harry says, smiling genuinely.

“Well they already like you better than me,” Louis teases, opening the door. Harry grins as he
climbs into the car, looking over at Louis.

“What’d you think of Mark?” Louis asks, failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “And
please, don't try to protect him.”

“I mean…” Harry pauses carefully, “I didn’t really get an idea of what he’s like, but I’m
gonna take your word for it.” Louis smiles.

“Good answer,” he replies. “So what are we gonna tell your family?”

“Oh,” Harry pauses thoughtfully, as if he hadn’t yet considered it, which, Louis realizes, he
probably hadn’t. “I mean, we can tell my mum, if that’s okay with you…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis reassures him, “of course.” He’s fine with that - he would never want to
force Harry to hide, and he knows that Harry’s mother is accepting. Still, though, his heart is
pounding when ten minutes later, they’re walking up Harry’s front steps and preparing to tell
her that they’re dating.

“Mum?” Harry calls as he unlocks the door.

“I’m in the kitchen, love!” a woman’s voice replies, and Harry gestures for Louis to follow
him. Harry’s house is cozy - Louis catches a glimpse of plush, comfortable furniture in a tiny
living room, and the hallways are lined with photographs. He smiles as he catches one that’s
clearly from years ago of Harry, four or five years old, with a blonde bowl cut and a wide
smile hugging a slightly older girl who he presumes to be Gemma. Harry turns back to smile
at him as he leads him into the kitchen.

“Oh, who’s your friend, darling?” Mrs. Styles asks. She looks strikingly like Gemma, with
the same eyes and kind face, and she smiles welcomingly at Louis.

Harry coughs quietly. “Um, this is Louis, and he’s actually my boyfriend,” he rushes,
stumbling over the words. Louis clears his throat, sticking out a hand cautiously.

“Oh!” she says, looking quickly between the two of them. “Oh, what a surprise, I mean, just
because I haven’t heard of a boyfriend before, but so lovely to meet you!” She takes Louis’
hand, shaking it firmly.

“You have a lovely house, Mrs. Styles,” Louis says politely, unsure of what else to say. He
suddenly wishes he was wearing long sleeves - an eighteen year old with dozens of tattoos is
not exactly boyfriend material, but she smiles graciously.

“Oh, thank you darling, please call me Anne,” she replies, smiling again. “Well, I was just
leaving, but I trust that you two can take care of yourselves?” They both nod eagerly, so she
looks between them, clearly flustered. “Alright, well, I’ll see you later, nice meeting you,
Louis!” She leaves quickly, and they wait until the front door slams shut, the sound echoing
through the empty house, to talk again.
“She loved you,” Harry tells him with a grin, and Louis laughs with relief. He stares at Harry
a moment later, eyes softening, and for the first time in as long as he can remember, feels true
hopefulness swell in his chest.

***

‘Properly’ dating Louis is strange.

For the most part, it’s incredible. It means more dates and more time crashing at the other’s
house, curled into his side and finishing a homework assignment or watching a movie. It
means nicknames that make Harry happier than he would ever admit and sweet goodnight
texts. It means long, extensive arguments about action movies versus romance movies that
always end in kissing anyway.

Oh, god, the kissing. On one hand it’s so, so good. They’ll be in Louis’s room, and Harry will
sprawled out on his bed writing an essay while Louis sits at his desk, and then Louis will turn
to him with a smirk and say that there are things he would rather be doing than homework.
And Harry will blush and sit up and inch closer to Louis, until Louis pulls him onto his lap
and Harry straddles his waist, cupping his face with his hands or winding his arms around
Louis’s neck. Louis will kiss him, slowly and teasingly, taking his time and resting his hands
on Harry’s back and kissing his neck, and god it feels so, so good, and Harry would go
further in an instant if Louis asked him to, if he could.

They haven’t discussed sex yet, not at all. It’s more than a bit of a point of insecurity for
Harry; he’s not stupid, he knows that Louis is far from a virgin and that eventually, snogging
his younger, pathetically inexperienced boyfriend won’t be enough for him. He hasn’t tried to
go any further though, he hasn’t even let his hand travel below Harry’s waist when they have
their arms around each other and in a way, it’s a relief. If Louis doesn’t initiate anything, than
Harry certainly isn’t going to.

There’s still the issue of school, too. They decided to start dating officially the day spring
holiday started and consequently, they haven’t had to deal with it yet. There’s not only the
fact that Louis is still very closeted, there’s the fact that Harry is a year below him and very
much the opposite of Louis’ usual crowd. Neither of them have mentioned coming out yet,
and if Louis doesn’t bring it up, then Harry certainly isn’t going to be the one to address it.

And finally, there’s the constant stress of what is going to happen when Louis finds out about
the endless list of problems in Harry’s life. There are some that can probably be hidden - the
fact that he almost jumped off a bridge two months ago and the fact that he’d still very much
like to do so, and it might be possible to keep him from finding out about his cutting, at least
for a while, but other things - like Chris, for example, are going to be extremely difficult to
keep from him.

For the most part though, it’s good, so good that Harry finds himself constantly wondering
when it’s going to end, thinking about the fact that it can’t possibly last. There are no other
monumental changes in their relationship, other than that they spend much more time
together, as if they’re trying to make up for the time they wasted being overly cautious
around each other. There are only four days over the two week break that Harry doesn’t see
Louis, and those are the days that Niall and Liam con him into hanging out with them.
On the second to last day of their holiday, he goes out to lunch with Niall and Liam. Niall has
still been relentless in asking about Louis, and even Liam seems to have accepted it. Right
now they’re tucked into the corner of a tiny coffee shop, Harry and Liam settled comfortably
into armchairs and Niall spread across an entire couch. They’re discussing the amount of
homework they all still have when Niall sits up suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows and saying
“Is that your boyfriend?”

Harry spins around to find that it is, in fact, Louis, who’s leaning against the counter talking
to Zayn. They make eye contact a moment later and Louis grins in surprise, waving eagerly
and pulling Zayn across the coffee shop.

“Hey!” Louis says happily, leaning down to kiss him quickly. “What are you doing here?”

Harry smiles, squeezing his arm. “I just came for coffee.” Louis perches himself on the arm if
Harry’s chair, and Niall straightens up, patting the space beside him on the chair for Zayn to
join him. He does, flashing him a warm smile.

“Hey Niall, Liam,” Louis nods to the two of them. Niall grins and waves, and Liam gives
him a grimace that’s probably more for Harry’s benefit than anything else.

“It’s good to see you man, how are you doing?” Niall says brightly, and Louis grins.

“I’m really good, you?” Niall nods in agreement.

“So, um do you guys all know each other?” Harry asks, clearing his throat. Louis nods,
reaching down to squeeze his hand reassuringly. Niall and Louis nod, and Zayn and Liam
exchange a quick glance.

“Liam Payne, right?” Zayn asks, as if he hasn’t heard Louis complain about him hundreds of
times. Liam nods, giving him a friendly smile.

“Yeah, and Zayn?” Zayn grins at him, nodding, and Harry exhales in relief.

“So this is the first time we’ve all been together since these two-” Niall gestures to Harry and
Louis, “-started dating, correct?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Zayn says, patting him on the shoulder, and Harry wonders what the
extent of their friendship really is.

“So I suppose that we should each give some warnings, for dating our best friends.” A
mischievous grin spreads across Zayn’s face.

“Deal,” he says cheekily, and Louis and Harry exchange looks of sheer panic.

“Okay, guys please don’t-” Louis begins, but Zayn has already started his speech.
“Okay Harry, number one, don’t let Louis tell you that he’s taller than he actually is.” Harry
laughs and Louis opens his mouth to protest, but Zayn continues without flinching. “Number
two, if he tries to fight with someone in front of you, don’t let him, otherwise it will go on
forever. Three,” Zayn pauses dramatically, and Louis glares at him, “don’t break his heart or
I’ll have to kill you.”
 “Deal,” Harry answers, grinning, and Louis scowls playfully at him.

“Niall and Liam, your turn,” Zayn says, and Harry’s smile fades. Niall rubs his hands
together, smirking.

“Alright, number one, if you wanna get on his good side, buy him concert tickets, I did that
once and he let me talk about golf for a month afterwards.” Louis barks out a laugh as Harry
blushes. “Liam, you got anything?”

To Harry’s surprise, Liam leans forward with a hint of a smile. “Number two, don’t endorse
his love for romance movies.”

“Hm, too late for that,” Louis says regrettably, and Harry shakes his head. Niall grins,
delighted.

“Last, same rule Zayn had, if you break his heart you’re a dead man.” Louis snorts, squeezing
Harry’s hand.

“Deal,” he responds, copying Harry, and Niall claps.

“Alright, you have all of our blessings then!” Niall says cheerfully. Louis bursts out laughing
and so does Harry, resting a head on Louis’ shoulder. Even Liam is smiling now, and Harry
can’t help thinking, perhaps overly optimistically, that this could be the beginning of some
beautiful friendships.

He looks up at Louis and shares a small, private smile with him, and in that moment, he feels
completely content.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos, keep them coming because they motivate
me to write faster! :)

If you have any questions at all relating to the story, feel free to leave them in the
comments of in my ask on tumblr, I looove talking about this fic so I'll be happy to
answer it!

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

Love you all, thanks for reading!

 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes

Wow I updated two weeks in a row that must be some kind of record! No but I actually
had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope you guys like it.

Thank you Jane my wonderful beta.

Warnings for this chapter: homophobic slurs, self harm descriptions.

Enjoy!

AU meme for this chapter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry has school the next day, and he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

He’s propped himself against the wall in his bathroom and he’s crying and shaking, anxiety
coursing through him at the prospect of tomorrow, of overwhelming schoolwork and the
draining, overpowering fear that’s constantly hovering over him when he’s there. It’s almost
midnight and he’s exhausted, he wants nothing more than to sleep, but that’s proving very
difficult right now. To add to it all, there’s the fact that he hasn’t talked to Louis about what
they’re going to do about school now that they’re together, and he has no idea what to expect.

Swallowing, he pushes himself off of the floor, wincing at the sharp, sudden pain of his most
recent cuts. He drags himself to the sink, grabbing a washcloth from his cupboard and rinsing
it, dabbing it lightly against his wrist. He keeps his eyes trained down, not wanting to look at
the mess he’s become.

A few minutes later, he collapses in his bed, burying his face in his pillow for a few moments
before sitting up slowly and grabbing his phone off of the nightstand.

i’ll see you tomorrow??? he types, and sends it to Louis before he can overthink it. Thirty
seconds later, a response comes in.

Louis Tomlinson♥: yeah !!! :) Harry chokes out a laugh when he sends a string of unrelated
emojis a moment later, featuring the sunglasses and the music notes.

ok xxxx he replies, the weight in his chest lifting ever so slightly.

Louis Tomlinson♥: get some sleep !!!!♥ Louis texts him a few moments later, so Harry
sighs, shutting off his phone.
Even with Louis’ reassurance in mind, Harry falls asleep with his head pounding and his
stomach churning, full of dread of the next day.

***

He gets a ride to school with Liam the next day, and he tries to ignore the fact that his heart is
pounding in his throat. Liam can obviously sense his discomfort, because he throws him a
few concerned looks that Harry pretends not to notice. He knows that Liam still doesn’t trust
or like Louis, that he’s waiting for Harry to say something about him, but he stays quiet for
most of the ride.

Harry has mastered the art of looking casual when he’s on the verge of tears, so he manages
to pull himself together by the time they arrive in the parking lot. Liam chatters on abouts
homework or something of the sort, and Harry nods in agreement every few seconds, but he’s
too distracted to pay attention.

He manages to pull himself together by the time they're walking into the school, taking a few
deep breaths to settle his anxiety. Liam bids him goodbye at his locker, after asking one too
many times if he's okay. Once Harry assures him that he is, Liam leaves and he's left alone.

He gets through the morning by keeping his head down and speaking as little as possible. He
doesn't see Louis for most of the day, due to their differing schedules, but he spends
lunchtime with Niall and Liam and by the time he's walking into English for last period, he
feels somewhat okay.

He arrives before Louis does, settling into his seat and pulling out his work. Louis arrives
five minutes later, and Harry looks up nervously and smiles.

“Hi,” Louis says, quietly and warmly, reaching over to gently touch his shoulder.

“Hey,” Harry replies softly, smiling at him.

“I haven't seen you all day, you good?” Louis asks. Harry nods, heart racing.

“Yeah,” he replies, but all he can think is you won't kiss me. He tells himself it doesn't matter,
that he was prepared for this possible outcome, but it's still a blow that Louis apparently
doesn't want to come out.

Throughout class, they chat casually, as they always would, and it's fine, even with lack of
physical contact. Even when they walk out of class together, shoulders brushing against each
other, it's a significant change to what Harry's been used to for the last few weeks.

“Hey, you want a ride home?” Louis suggests as they're walking back to Harry's locker.
Harry nods, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, just let me...” he holds up his books and Louis nods and smiles warmly.

“Of course,” he says, winking, and even though Harry laughs he wants to shout why won't
you touch me?
They walk to Louis' car, laughing and talking as they always would, and it lasts throughout
the whole ride. When they pull up to Harry's house, Louis turns towards him with a smile.

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says as he grabs his bag, turning to open the door.

“No problem,” Louis says, smiling lazily. “Hey, do you wanna hang out after school
tomorrow?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Harry replies. Louis grins.

“Okay, cool.” He pauses and leans in to give Harry a quick kiss. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” Harry answers, opening the door. “See you.”

He heads up to his room, dropping his bag heavily onto the bed and leaning against the wall.
So Louis clearly doesn’t want to come out. That’s fine. It might be easier, in some ways. As
long as Louis’ happy, he’ll be fine.

Even as he repeats this to himself, over and over, he still ends up on the ground, pressing a
razor to his wrist for relief.

***

It goes on like this for another two weeks.

It’s not as if they’re ignoring each other at school; they still talk constantly in class and in the
hallways, they’ve met up for lunch fairly often, and occasionally, they’ll touch briefly,
squeeze each other quickly on the arm or brush their hands together under the desk. Besides
that though, they have kept the fact that they’re together very quiet. Which is fine. Harry tells
himself that he doesn’t care, that he knows Louis can’t come out anyway because of his
family, but it takes a toll on him, and more often than not he finds himself on his bedroom
floor, wrists or thighs covered with new cuts because of it.

He never brings it up though. When they’re not in school they’re frequently together, either at
one of their houses or at a restaurant or on some other outing that they can dream up and
everything is fine. When they’re alone, they’re constantly touching - either holding hands or
putting their arms around each other or leaning closer to press a kiss to the other’s cheek or
neck or forehead. They’ve been officially dating for about a month and as it’s gone on, it’s
gotten better and better, and it’s also gotten more and more terrifying.

Harry knows it’s too good to be true. He’s practically counting down to the day that Louis
gets tired of him, or annoyed, or finds out how fucked up he is and leaves. And the longer it
goes on, the more Harry needs him, and the more he dreads the day it’s going to end.

Nothing else has changed, though. Harry still cuts just as much as he had before; He still
thinks about swallowing the bottle of painkillers that’s perched on his bathroom sink; He still
keeps his head down at school and puts up with Chris and hates himself a little more each
day. He keeps everything to himself, too; he hasn’t even considered telling Louis about all of
it - he’s absolutely certain it will drive him away and for now, Louis is his escape of
everything else in his life and he honestly doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses him.

Everything’s fine though. He tells himself that when he’s suddenly panicking over something
insignificant and when he’s layering bracelets over his newest scars and when he’s in tears at
one am, wanting to call someone but not wanting to bother them.

Everything is fine.

But even Harry can only pretend for so long, and he snaps one day when they’ve been dating
for just over a month.

He’s in the hallway alone towards the end of the day before a free period, his head tucked
down against chest in hopes of getting to study hall without incident but when he hears “Hey,
Styles!” his stomach drops in fear and he shuts his eyes as he hears the sound of footsteps
echoing down the hallway, bracing himself for what’s coming. He turns around he sees Chris
and his two sidekicks, Oli and Calvin, strutting down the hallway just feet away from him.

Chris backs him into the corner, smirking. “I haven’t seen you in a while, fag,” he says
tauntingly. Harry trains his eyes on the ground, trembling slightly. “Where’ve you been?”

Harry keeps quiet, heart pounding in fear. The hallways are almost empty aside from them,
and he decides that the way it would end fastest would just be to take whatever they threw at
him.

“Where’s your boyfriend now?” Chris continues, and it takes Harry a moment to realize he’s
talking about Liam, not Louis. When Harry still doesn’t answer, Chris grips his shoulder,
pushing him roughly against the wall.

“Answer the question,” he snaps. Harry looks up desperately with glassy eyes.

“Please stop,” he whimpers pathetically, hating himself. Chris laughs, tightening his grip on
his arm.

“I don’t think so,” he answers mockingly. “There’s no one here to make us stop, is there?”

“Chris,” Oli says boredly, “let’s go, he’s not worth it, we’ve got better things to do.”

“Yeah,” Chris replies, turning back to Harry, “I suppose he’s not.” He shoves him backwards
one last time before releasing him. “I’ll see you later, fag,” he says, before leading them
away.

Harry stays there for a moment, stunned and shaking and terrified before rushing to the
bathroom. He heads to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, trying to calm himself
down. He leans against the wall, trembling, for a few moments until the door swings open
and he startles.

It’s Louis, and he’s not sure if he’s grateful for that or not.

“Hey,” he says kindly, smiling warmly at him.

“Hey,” Harry replies, swallowing. He pushes his curls out of his face, hoping he looks
presentable.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” Louis says. He glances around, scanning the room to check if
there’s anyone else. When he finds there isn’t, he reaches to touch Harry’s cheek, and that’s
when Harry breaks.

“Seriously, Louis?” he snarls, pulling away from him. Louis’ eyes widen in alarm and
concern.

“Harry, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that we can kiss and hold hands and whatever in private and it’s fine, but the
second we’re in front of anyone else you won’t even touch me.” Louis stares at him, clearly
distressed.

“Harry-” he begins carefully, but Harry scoffs.

“Look, I get it, you don’t want to come out but it’s just-” Harry cuts off, because what can he
say? It hurts that you don’t want anyone to know about us? It feels like you’re embarrassed to
be dating me? I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you? He shuts his eyes, humiliated of his
outburst and exhausted and suddenly overwhelmed with sadness.

“Harry-” Louis starts again, but Harry shakes his head.

“Don’t, Louis,” he says sharply, pushing past him and out of the bathroom.

He carries the heaviness around in his chest until he gets home and releases it the only way
he knows how. As he kneels on his bedroom floor, wrists stinging and curls hanging limply
over his eyes, he starts to cry, chest heaving in desperate, quiet sobs.

He knows it was unfair of him to snap at Louis, knows that he’d done nothing to deserve it.
He knew that in the moment and he still did it. He has too much fucking emotional baggage
and too many problems to be a good boyfriend, and Louis is going to realize that. He takes a
sharp breath in a vain attempt to calm down, dropping his head into his hands.

He can’t find the motivation to move off of the floor until his phone buzzes a few moments
later, startling him. He picks it up to see that it’s Louis and his heart races as he presses
accept.

“He-hello?” he chokes, failing miserably at keeping his voice steady.

“Hey,” Louis says, sounding concerned, “are you crying?”

“No,” Harry lies, keeping his voice as even as possible.

“Okay,” Louis says skeptically, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s-” Harry bites his lip, taking a breath, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you-”
“Baby, it’s fine,” Louis says reassuringly, and Harry sighs with relief. “You were right, it was
shitty of me to, like, keep us in the closet like that-”

“Louis-”

“No, let me finish, Haz. It was unfair of me to do that to you, and I was scared, but I don’t
want you to think it had anything to do with you, okay? You’re perfect, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry says quietly after a pause.

“I’m just sorry, Haz, you shouldn’t have to feel like that.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, biting his lip.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Louis asks gently. Harry almost wants to laugh at the question
as he glances down at the new, raw, cuts on his wrist.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says, as calmly as possible.

“Okay,” Louis says after a beat. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Lou?” Harry asks timidly, biting his lip. “Are we, um, are we gonna come out now?”

“Uh,” Louis says hesitantly, and Harry hates himself for bringing it up. “Yeah, baby, we can,
just give me, like, a minute to process it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Harry assures him.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Louis tells him.

“Bye, Louis,” Harry whispers breathlessly.

“Bye, Hazza,” Louis says warmly, and he ends the call. When they hang up, Harry slumps
against his bed, exhaustion weighing down every part of him.

Twenty minutes later, when he’s calmed down a bit more, Harry’s phone lights up when he’s
doing homework.

louistomlinson tagged you in a photo

Frowning, Harry unlocks his phone to check it out. When he sees what it is, his eyes widen in
shock.

It’s a photo they took a few days ago, when they were walking back from some restaurant.
Louis had taken the photo, insisting that they looked ‘too cute not to take one’. Harry’s arms
are wound around his neck, his face half concealed in Louis’ shoulder, and he’s laughing.
Louis’ not looking directly at the camera; his eyes are trained on Harry and he has a warm,
bright smile. Harry stares at it for a few moments before scrolling down to the caption.
Siiiiiiick night♥ is what he wrote. Harry laughs, shaking his head as he goes to type a
response,

♥♥♥ is all he responds, but he thinks it’s enough for right now.

***

Despite his repeated claims that he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, that he’s above
all of them anyway, Louis’ heart is pounding when he shows up to school the next day. He
doesn’t know what he’s expecting, only that he’s expecting it to be different. He’s waiting for
some kind of reaction, some acknowledgement of the fact that he came out yesterday, which
feels monumental to him.

He finds Harry at his locker before first period, tapping him on the shoulder. Harry turns
around, smiling shyly at him.

“Hi,” he says quietly, biting his lip.

“Hey,” Louis says, and then he kisses him. He wraps his arms around Harry's waist, pulling
him in and Harry winds his arms around Louis' neck and melts into it and it's a good ten
seconds before they break apart again.

If he’s gonna come out, he’s gonna go all the way.

“Um…” Harry laughs, biting his lip, “what was that for?”

“It was because-” Louis pauses to kiss him one more time, “-you’re my boyfriend and we
should get to make out in the hallways if we want to.”

“Lou, you don’t have to do this,” Harry tells him, but Louis shakes his head.

“Shush, don’t be ridiculous,” Louis replies, wrapping an arm around his neck. “C’mon, we
gotta get to English.”

Harry hooks an arm around his waist, leaning against his shoulder and smiling. As Louis
looks down at him, he decides that this was worth coming out for.

***
For the most part, nothing changes. Louis doesn’t think he could be more relieved. He gets a
few stares in the hallway, especially when he’s walking with Harry, and he maybe gets a few
dirty looks from people he doesn’t know well, but that’s the worst of it, and that’s nothing he
hasn’t already put up with before. Everything’s fine until right after lunch, when he’s
standing by his locker and is approached by Eleanor, who marches up to him pointedly and
leans against the wall next to him, training him with an intense stare.

“You’re gay?” she says casually, not bothering with a proper greeting. Louis presses his lips
together, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah. And?” he replies shortly, swinging the door to his locker shut and turning to her
impatiently. She bites her lip, brushing her hair out of her face uncomfortable.
“Is that why you broke up with me?” she asks, glancing up at him. Louis sighs, raking his
fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” he admits, “look, I know that was a dick move of me but this honestly doesn’t
concern you-”

“Louis, I’m sorry.” She cuts him off, taking a sharp breath. “I was kind of a bitch to you after
it happened, and I just wanted to say that you could’ve told me, and then I wouldn’t have
hated you for two years.” Louis huffs out a laugh.

“Thanks,” he replies after a moment, unsure of what else to say. Eleanor crosses her arms,
pursing her lips.

“I think you two are good together,” she tells him, glancing up at him. “You and Harry, I
mean.” Louis frowns, drumming his fingers absently against the door of his locker.

“Do you know him?” he asks, trying to recall if Harry’s ever mentioned her.

“Not really, but I recognized him because when I was dating Chris, he was really horrible
towards him.” Louis’ stares at her in confusion as she continues. “I mean, that was part of
why we broke up, because he wouldn’t leave him alone-”

“What?” Louis interrupts, slightly panicked. “Wait, when was this?”

Eleanor frowns. “Like, two months ago.” Louis takes a sharp breath, running his fingers
through his hair.

“What do you mean, he wouldn’t leave him alone?” Louis asks seriously. The realization that
this is new information must dawn on her, because her eyes widen slightly and she shifts
uncomfortably.

“If Harry hasn’t mentioned it I don’t-” Louis shakes his head firmly, narrowing his eyebrows.

“You brought it up, Eleanor,” he interrupts her, fixing her with a somewhat desperate look.
She glances down, pressing her lips together as if she’s considering the best way to put this.

“Okay, um, when I was dating Chris, he and some of his friends were just like - they’d give
Harry a lot of shit, you know, slamming him into lockers and calling him a fag and stuff-”
Louis grits his teeth, shutting his eyes briefly. “-and so we broke up, because he could be
pretty awful to him and I realized he was a horrible person.” She bites her lip, looking
nervously back at Louis. “Look, it might’ve stopped, and that’s why he never told you-”

“Okay,” Louis says distractedly, his mind very far away. “Good talking to you, Eleanor.”
Taking the hint, she smiles quickly and sympathetically before hurrying away, leaving Louis
to collapse heavily against the locker.

Oh, god. He was really horrible towards him...he wouldn’t leave him alone...slamming him
into lockers and calling him a fag... Louis feels sick thinking of Harry, gentle, delicate Harry,
who’s probably never intentionally hurt anyone in his life, being harassed relentlessly by
Chris and his friends, all of whom are probably twice his height and weight and notoriously
cruel.

Louis is going to kill him. He’s going to find him during football practice and he’s going to
brutally, viciously go at him until he’s learned a lesson. First, though, he’s going to find Harry
and discover why he never mentioned this, why he never thought to ask for help.

He finally gets his chance just before the end of the day, when he’s preparing to go to football
practice and Harry’s presumably preparing to go home. He, quite literally, races to his locker,
where Harry’s already standing, talking to Liam.

“Hey,” Harry says gently when he approaches, smiling softly.

“Hey,” Louis responds quickly, ignoring the cold look that Liam throws at him, “I need to
talk to you. Alone,” he adds, when Liam raises his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Harry stammers, visibly nervous. He turns to Liam, grimacing, and Liam gives them
both a curt nod before stalking off.

“Is everything okay?” Harry asks quietly, biting his lip. Sensing his anxiety, Louis reaches
forward and intertwines their fingers, squeezing his hands.

“Harry,” he begins, realizing he hasn’t planned at all what he’s going to say to him, “what’s
going on with Chris?” he says bluntly. Any hope that he’d had that Eleanor was mistaken,
that there’s absolutely nothing that Harry’s hiding from him, is dashed when Harry’s eyes
widen in fear, and he goes visibly pale.

“W-what are you talking about?” Harry says desperately. Louis tilts his head disbelievingly,
eyes willing him to tell the truth. “It’s nothing,” Harry says softly a moment later, “really, it’s
not a big deal, it’s just-”

“Harry!” Louis cuts him off, perhaps too sharply, because Harry flinches. “Baby,” he adds
gently, trying to reassure him, “Hazza, it is a big deal if he’s hurting you.” Harry looks away.

“He’s not - it’s not bad, Louis, I can handle it.” His eyes are brimming with tears, and Louis
feels a tug at his heart as he realizes he’s never seen Harry cry before.

“Harry,” Louis says softly, brushing a hand gently against his cheek, “you shouldn’t have to
handle it. I can do something about it, I’m not gonna let him-”

“It’s not your problem, Louis!” Harry snaps, eyes flashing. He swallows, clearly fighting
back tears, and Louis wants to hold him.

“Baby,” Louis says cautiously, “Harry I’m not - I’m not saying you can’t handle your own
problems, I’m just saying I can help you with this, if you’ll just let me.”

Harry shuts his eyes, taking a deep, uneven breath. “You can’t Louis,” he says, barely
audibly. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this-”
“Neither should you, Harry!” Louis says, gently but firmly. He squeezes Harry’s hand again.
“How long has this been going on?” he asks hesitantly, unsure if he wants the answer.

Harry bites his lip, swallowing. “About a year,” he mumbles, a sob escaping his chest.

Louis wraps his arms around him, letting Harry bury his face in his neck. He runs his hands
soothingly up and down Harry’s back, shutting his eyes tightly. A year, oh god, a whole year.
He tries to think back to when they first met, how Harry would jump or flinch if he was
approached in the hallway, how he was so nervous when he first told Louis he was gay. A
lump forms in Louis’ throat.

“Baby?” Louis says carefully, pulling away. Harry’s face is streaked with tears now, and it
truly breaks Louis’ heart to see him like this.

“Hazza,” he says softly, cupping his chin, “please let me help.” Harry shuts his eyes tightly,
fighting back a sob.

“You can’t, Louis,” he whispers. Louis swallows, shaking his head.

“Baby I can, I promise, please just let me.” Harry shakes his head, and Louis takes a deep
breath. “Please, sweetheart, I can help,” he says coaxingly, brushing Harry’s curls off of his
forehead. “Hazza, I'm not gonna do anything dramatic, I'm just gonna make it better, okay?”

“You aren't, um, you aren't gonna do anything big?” Harry asks timidly, not looking at him.
Louis shakes his head, squeezing Harry's hands tightly.

“Of course not,” he promises him, “but you gotta let me help, okay baby?”

“Okay,” Harry mumbles reluctantly, and Louis exhales in relief. He reaches up to brush
Harry's cheek, frowning slightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Louis asks after a moment. Harry bites his lip, shrugging and
shaking his head.

“It wasn’t - it’s not a big deal,” he says quietly, not looking up, “I didn’t want you to have to
deal with my problems.”

“Baby,” Louis says gently, wishing Harry would understand, “You keep saying that but it’s
not - I want to help you, okay? You're my boyfriend, that's what we do,” Harry nods, and
Louis pulls him into another tight, comforting hug.

I love you, Louis thinks desperately, and his heart skips a beat because okay. That
isn’t...they’re not...they’ve known each other for a few months and they’ve been a couple, or
basically a couple, for about six weeks now but he can’t be in love, he’s not equipped to be in
love-

Fuck. Okay. This is a problem for another day. Taking a sharp breath, he pulls away from
Harry, looking at him.

“I gotta go to practice now, baby, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay,” Harry answers quietly, with a faint smile. Louis kisses him quickly on the forehead,
squeezing his arm before taking off down the hallway.

When he arrives in the locker room, he spots Chris from across the room and it takes every
ounce of self control he has not to lunge at him right there. Instead, he clenches his jaw and
looks away from him, forcing himself to calm down.

Practice is excruciating. It’s agonizing, frustrating beyond belief to have to act like
everything's okay, to pretend like he’s not moments away from attacking his teammate, but he
grits his teeth and forces himself to focus on his performance. When he misses his fourth pass
of the hour, Liam sighs exasperatedly and Louis turns around and glares at him.

“Sorry, Payne, do you think you could do this better?” he snaps. Liam narrows his eyebrows,
pursing his lips.

“I dunno man, maybe there’s a reason I haven’t missed every play today?” Louis’ face
darkens, and Alvarez must sense that he’s preparing for a fight, because he rushes over to
separate the two of them.

Practice ends shortly after that, and once he’s back in the locker room Louis wastes
absolutely no time in getting to Chris. He stalks up to him in the changing room as he’s
shoving his belongings into his bag, slamming the door to his locker shut to get his attention.
Chris looks up, startled, and he sneers when he see’s it’s Louis.

“What do you want?” he says, straightening up. Louis glowers at him, and satisfaction rises
in his chest when he recoils ever so slightly.

“Stay away from Harry,” Louis says darkly, and okay, maybe he should have thought through
the script a bit more. Chris smiles cruelly.

“What, did he send you after me or something?” Louis’ scowl deepens, and Chris continues.
“It’s not my fault your boyfriend’s a fucking fairy, I thought you were better than that but-”

Louis' eyes flash with anger, and in one motion, he grabs him by the shirt collar and pushes
him roughly against the locker, pinning him there. He inhales sharply, eyes wide with actual
fear now as Louis smirks.

“Listen,” he says in a low, dangerous voice, “this is a warning. If you touch him, or say shit
to him, or look at him the wrong way I swear to you, I will fuck you up so badly.” He pauses,
letting Chris squirm uncomfortably. “You know I’m stronger than you-”

“You’re lying,” Chris says, face contorted in rage and out of breath. He struggles against
Louis' grip in vain, wincing painfully when Louis doesn't budge.

“Take your chances and we’ll see about that,” Louis hisses, dropping the front of his shirt. He
steps back as Chris leans against the wall, breathing heavily.

“You got it?” Louis asks warningly. Chris gives him a curt, short nod before rushing to the
exit.
Louis stands there for a moment, staring emptily at the wall. Despite the infinite a amount of
times he's imagined a similar interaction, he doesn't feel particularly satisfied. Instead, anger
is still burning in his chest, and he grits his teeth as he walks back to his locker.

The locker room is mostly empty now, but Louis doesn’t think he can bare to go home. He
heads over to the punching bags in the back of the locker rooms and before he know’s it he’s
pounding at them, eyes squeezed shut in effort and exhaustion, panting heavily. He leans
backwards, gritting his teeth, and opens his eyes only to realize that he’s bleeding at the
knuckles. He winces at the pain, and then he pictures Chris and suddenly, punching it again is
very easy.

“Louis?” someone behind him says, and Louis spins around to see Liam, leaning awkwardly
against the nearest locker.

“Can I help you?” Louis snaps, and he knows Liam doesn’t deserve it but he has no patience
left. He expects some kind of retort but Liam glances down, biting his lip.

“I, uh,” he coughs, running his fingers through his hair, “I just wanted to apologize.” Louis
blinks in surprise. “I know I’ve been a bit of an asshole to you in the past, especially since
you and Harry started dating, and I just - I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I was really worried,
and I didn’t trust you, especially since he’s had to put up with Chris and those guys and I
thought this might be some horrible plan that you had with them,” Liam takes a breath,
looking back up at him, “but I just overheard what you said to him, and it was stupid of me to
be such a prick to you.”

Louis stares at him, astonished. “Thanks, man,” he says after a pause, genuinely grateful. “I
also might have been kind of an asshole to you,” Louis adds begrudgingly. Liam gives him a
half smile, which Louis returns.

“So, um,” Liam continues, “you and I can move forward?” Louis nods, and Liam reaches
forward to shake his hand.

“Oh, sorry you don’t-” Louis holds up his hands apologetically, and Liam winces.

“Jesus Christ, mate, aren’t you supposed to put on chalk or something before you do that?”
Louis grimaces and shrugs. The two of them are quiet for a moment, the silence seeming to
bounce around the building.

“Uh, Louis?” Liam asks after a few moments. Louis looks up. “How’d you find out about
Chris? Did Harry tell you?”

“No,” Louis says flatly “my ex girlfriend did.” Liam nods, biting his lip.

“Is that unusual?” Louis asks anxiously, and Liam laughs humorlessly and shakes his head.

“Nope, it would’ve been unusual if Harry had told you,” Liam says bitterly. Louis frowns,
and Liam sighs tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Harry doesn’t - he never asks for
help, not even when he’s at his worst. I think he thinks he’d be annoying people, or
something.”
“Oh,” Louis says, processing this. It hurts him to think of Harry isolating himself, not letting
people be there for him because he doesn’t want to inconvenience them.

“Please don’t hurt him Louis,” Liam says suddenly, eyes filled with desperation. “I can’t see
him heartbroken, not after everything he’s already dealt with.”

“I won’t,” Louis says thickly, swallowing. He means it; he tells himself that he’s going to do
everything he can to make this boy happy, he’s going to protect him against everything he
possibly can.

“I'm glad you're there for him,” Liam says, eyes cast downward, “I offered like, a million
times to do something about Chris and he would never let me.”

“He wasn't really on board with it,” Louis admits, pushing his hair out of his face. “It took a
lot of convincing.”

“Yeah, that doesn't surprise me,” Liam sighs, closing his eyes. “God, I wish he would let us
be there for him.”

Louis bites his lip, unsure of how to respond.

“I'm sorry, it's weird for us to be talking about this,” Liam says hastily, straightening up. “I'll
see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis tells him, “see you man.” Liam smiles, somewhat sadly before turning to
leave.

The sound of the door slamming bounces around the locker room, filling the emptiness of the
building. Louis swallows, heading to gather his belongings slowly.

When he leaves the building, he walks to his car and sends a quick text to Harry.

I'll see you tomorrow♥ he writes, and then turns his phone over as he starts the car. The
drive home is unpleasant; he runs over every word Eleanor said to him, and every word he
said to Harry and Chris, and then every word Liam said to him and by the time he gets home
he feels nauseous.

Harry responds a few minutes later when Louis's lying in his bed, ignoring the piles of
homework he has.

what did you say to chris? Louis bites his lip, hesitating before he begins to type.

we can talk about it tomorrow A moment later he adds I promise I didn't do anything
huge so don't worry

ok Harry replies. And then, thank you louis

Louis swallows as he reads the text. of course baby, he responds, then adds anytime.

And he truly means it.

Chapter End Notes

I feel like the worst person ever when I write Harry's parts I'm so sorry baby, I love you.

Thanks for all the comments and kudos, they're so lovely and they make me so happy,
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 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes

Back to being a horrible updater I'm sorry. Anyway, happy late halloween and end of
OTRA and I'll try to update next week but I can't make any promises.

This chapter hasn't been betaed yet so I'm sorry for any mistakes, I'll correct them asap.

Enjoy!

AU meme for this chapter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The next morning, Harry shows up to school with his heart in his throat in anticipation of
seeing the aftermath of whatever Louis’ done for him. He’d spent the afternoon and night
before worrying about it, and right now, his anxiety is at it’s worst.

How Louis found out he doesn’t know. He doesn’t really care, honestly, but he can’t believe
how quickly he realized it. Harry knew it would be hard to hide it from him, he’d anticipated
that when they first started dating, but it was the same day they came out at school. He had
thought he was better at keeping secrets than that.

He’s still astonished that Louis didn’t leave right then. Harry broke down in front of him in
the hallway, for God’s sake, and he still didn’t end things right there. Harry was furious,
disgusted with himself, for showing that kind of vulnerability to him. Why Louis wasn’t
horrified, or freaked out by his overwhelming, sudden emotion, Harry doesn’t know. How he
deserves someone who responded so kindly, so supportively, Harry has no idea.

God, he hates himself.

If he thought that was bad though, it was nothing compared to when he got home. He spent
most of the night imagining whatever confrontation Louis would be subjecting himself too -
all because of his own inability to handle any problem- and it ended up driving him back to
where he always ended up; bleeding wrists on his bathroom floor.

“Haz!” a voice calls, and he doesn’t even have to look to know it’s Louis. Sure enough, the
older boy is leaning against his car a few meters away, smirking at him. Harry smiles, tugging
out his headphones and he heads over to him.

Louis pulls him into a hug as soon as he reaches him, and Harry takes a deep breath as he
leans into it. He pulls away a moment later.
“Hi,” he says, somewhat shyly.

“Hi,” Louis answers, hoisting his own bag over his shoulder and smiling. “You good?”

Harry nods, debating whether or not to ask about Chris. The question dies in his throat; he
can’t force himself to work up the nerve to say it. Instead, he squeezes Louis’ hand and tries
to tell himself everything is fine.

“Hey, so do you wanna come over to my place after school?” Louis asks as they walk inside.
Harry nods eagerly, giving him a soft smile.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Harry tells him. Louis grins, leaning against the wall beside his
locker as they stop.

“Sick, so I’ll meet you here after school?” Louis says. Harry smiles at him, nodding. Louis
grins, kissing him quickly on the cheek before darting down the hallway.

The rest of the day is excruciatingly long, and Harry only gets through it by letting himself
look forward to the end of the day. The only significant thing that happens is towards the end
of the day, when he’s heading back to his locker and he passes Chris. Out of habit, he ducks
his head, head pounding, and he’s surprised when Chris brushes past him without even
bothering to throw a slur at him.

Louis did that. The realization is sudden and intense, slamming into him.

I can help you with this, if you’ll just let me. Harry shuts his eyes, suddenly close to tears as
overwhelming love and fear and guilt hits him all at once.

When he finds Louis at the end of the day, he’s almost shy as he leans up to kiss him briefly.
Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s waist and Harry leans into his side, melting into his
warmth.

“You okay with just going back to my house?” Louis asks him as they head towards his car.
Harry nods, smiling at him.

During the car ride, Louis blasts music and they talk easily about nothing in particular;
they’re friends and classes and families, and Harry still can’t work up the nerve to asks about
the day before.

Harry doesn’t bring it up until they’ve been together for a while; they’re sitting on Louis’
bed, homework spread across the comforters, and Harry can’t bear the anticipation any
longer.

“So, um, I saw Chris today,” Harry says finally, voice timid and soft. Louis snaps his head up.

“Did he do anything?” Louis asks sharply. Harry stares at him, shaking his head.

“No,” Harry tells him, “he did absolutely nothing.” Louis’ eyes soften and he nods, running
his fingers through his hair.
“What did you say to him?” Harry asks after a moment. He fixes his eyes on the ground,
pinching the skin on his wrist nervously.

Louis hesitates, taking a breath. “I, um, I basically told him that if he ever did anything to you
again I would kick his ass,” he deadpans after a few moments. “And I was being serious.”
Part of Harry wants to laugh, but the much more dominant part of him plants a pit of anxiety
and shame in his stomach.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Louis asks, reaching out to gently grasp Harry’s hand. Harry
swallows, gritting his teeth in a desperate attempt to swallow the tears burning in the back of
his eyes.

“It’s just-” He takes a breath, forcing himself to look up at Louis. His eyes are wide and
concerned and patient, and he nods for Harry to continue. “-I’m just sorry, that you had to
deal with it-”

“Harry,” Louis says, kindly but firmly, “you have to stop saying that, okay baby? I know you
can handle your problems-” (Harry almost wants to laugh) “-but that doesn’t mean I’m not
gonna be there for you and help you and take care of you, alright?”

“But it’s just embarrassing,” Harry says, his voice breaking slightly. Louis shakes his head
desperately.

“Hey, Hazza, no, c’mere baby.” He wraps his arms around Harry, pulling him into his lap and
cradling him so his head is buried in his chest. “It’s not embarrassing, baby, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles tearfully into Louis’ tee shirt. Louis brings his hands to Harry’s
chin, tilting his head up so he can look at him.

“Harry, you have nothing to apologize for, okay?” Louis cups his face gently, brushing a few
stray curls off of his forehead.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers shyly, dropping his head onto Louis’ forehead. “You’re a really
good boyfriend.” Louis presses a kiss to the top of his head, smoothing his hair. Harry wishes
he could disappear into the safety of Louis’ arms.

But even having Louis to hold him and not having to deal with Chris isn’t enough to change
the rest of his life, and Harry’s not any happier. He still can’t believe that he’s broken down in
front
of Louis - twice - and he hasn’t left yet.

And even though Harry keeps waiting for it to happen, he still shows no signs of wanting to.
A few days later they’re waiting in the hallway together, having just finished lunch, as Harry
gathers his books.

“I don’t want to go to class,” Harry complains absentmindedly, turning to pout at Louis.

Louis smiles sympathetically, before grinning thoughtfully.
“We could cut,” Louis suggests with a smirk, propping himself against Harry’s locker. Harry
rolls his eyes fondly, cocking his head.

“No we can’t,” he replies flatly. Louis casts him a long look.

“‘Course we can, you’ve done it before.” Harry bites his lip, lowering his gaze. “Wait
really?” Louis asks in surprise. Harry shrugs, blushing slightly.

“I just...didn’t want to get in trouble,” he admits, glancing back up at him. Louis shakes his
head, grinning.

“Jesus, Harold, you must be the most perfect person I’ve ever met.” Harry shrugs, smiling
sheepishly. “Well, c’mon, you gotta have your first experience.” With that, he slots their
fingers together and pulls him down the hallway.

“Louis!” Harry yells, laughing, but he lets him lead him past the crowds of people until
they’re in an abandoned hallway. “Louis, seriously, we shouldn’t-”

Louis turns back to him, raising his eyebrows. “What do you have now?” he asks.

“Algebra and history and then we have English-”

“Harry,” Louis says, grinning incredulously, “you’re the best student I’ve ever met. It won’t
kill you to miss two classes.” Harry bites his lip, considering it. “But, if you really don’t want
to, we can go back,” he adds seriously, smiling lazily,

Harry looks at him for a long few moments, hesitating. “Fine,” he says finally, and Louis
grins.

“Good decision,” he says cheekily, squeezing his hand. He walks briskly down the hallway
and Harry settles into the pace beside him, keeping their hands tightly intertwined.

“Where are we going?” he asks, somewhat nervously. Louis smiles fondly at him.

“You’ll see,” he teases. Harry rolls his eyes.

“What if we get caught?” he asks anxiously. Louis raises his eyebrows nonchalantly.

“Then I’ll say that I kidnapped you and forced you to miss two periods of school so I could
spend time with you,” Louis deadpans. Harry laughs, and Louis’ eyes soften. “Baby, I’ve
gotten caught cutting class a million times doing way worse stuff than what we’re gonna do,
they really don’t care.”

“Okay,” Harry replies, releasing Louis’ hand and tucking himself into his side. Louis tightens
his arm around Harry’s waist, and Harry smiles as he leans against his shoulder.

“Alright, we’re here,” Louis announces, pushing one of the exits that Harry doesn’t recognize
open with his free arm. Harry looks up to see that they’re headed towards the football pitch.
Harry raises his eyebrows.
“I recall,” Louis begins, racing ahead so he’s standing in front of Harry. He clasps his hands
together, smirking. “That I promised to teach you football.”

“Seriously?” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “Right now?”

“Yeah, c’mon!” Louis heads over to a bag lying untouched at the edge of the field, pulling a
football out of it. “You ready?”

“Okay,” Harry agrees, rolling his eyes fondly as he walks over to join him. Louis grins,
grabbing his hand and leading him to the center of the field.

“Alright, you gotta start with foot control,” Louis tells him, straightening his posture. Harry
watches him with a smirk

“C’mon, let’s go sit,” Louis tells him, leading him over to the bleachers.

“Really?” Harry says, unimpressed, and Louis frowns at him.

“What?” Louis asks. Harry scowls at him, and Louis sighs. “You already knew I smoked-”

“Yeah, but-” Harry stops mid sentence because he doesn’t know what to say. I’m an idiot, but
I thought you might stop for me? I might be in love with you and I don’t want you to hurt
yourself? He bites his lip, glancing away.

“What?” Louis presses, twirling the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s just gross,” Harry tells him, “and it’s bad for you?”

“I know it’s bad, Haz, and I’m sure that you have no habits that you know aren’t good for you
that you keep doing anyway-” Harry bites his lip, swallowing and glancing down, “-but I
don’t do it because I think it’s healthy.”

“Then why?” Harry asks after a beat. Louis glances down at him seriously.

“Uh, well, I started to piss off my stepdad, doing it in his car and house or whatever, but it
just - it’s relaxing, and it feels good, so…” Louis shrugs, grimacing. “I know I’m kind of a
burnout, but-”

“You aren’t a burnout!” Harry tells him, reaching up to touch his cheek. Louis huffs out a
laugh, smiling at him.

“Babe, I’m an eighteen year old with a million tattoos who smokes and has a motorbike,”
Louis deadpans, “what else would you say?”

“I don’t know, but you aren’t - you’re the best person I know, Louis.” Louis gives him a tired
smile, tucking a curl behind his ear.

“Harry, I’m failing half of my classes,” Louis admits with a sharp breath. “I’m not gonna
graduate next year if I don’t get my act together, and I can’t see that happening anytime
soon-”
“You’re failing?” Harry interrupts him, lifting his head off of Louis’ shoulder. Louis grimaces
and shrugs in confirmation.

“I told you I was a burnout,” Louis replies nonchalantly, a tone of finality in his voice. Harry
stares at him in astonishment before shaking his head determinedly.

“You aren’t gonna drop out, Lou,” Harry tells him seriously, “I’m gonna help you study until
you aren’t failing.”

Louis turns towards him, fixing him with a skeptical, tired look. “It’s a lost cause, Harry,” he
says flatly.

“Louis-” Harry sighs in frustration, “-you’re really smart, and I know you care about this and
I know you can graduate easily and I’m gonna help you.” Louis laughs incredulously, raising
his eyebrows.

“You’re really gonna do that?” Louis asks him, and for the first time Harry sees some
sincerity in his eyes as he asks the question. Harry nods enthusiastically.

“Harry-” Louis pauses, lowering his gaze, “-you don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ, Louis, I want to!” Harry says in exasperation, rolling his eyes. Louis tilts his
head, smiling warmly, eyes still full of disbelief.

“Thank you,” he says thickly, biting his lip. Harry smiles shyly, shrugging.

“Of course,” he replies. Louis’ eyes soften as he looks down at Harry, giving him a reluctant
side smile, before pocketing the cigarette. Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“What?” Louis says cheekily, grinning at him. “You said you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean you had to stop,” Harry argues.

“Well, your opinion matters to me.” Harry glances down, blushing, and Louis continues. “I’m
not promising to quit or anything, I’m just gonna take it slow.”

Harry reaches up and kisses him on the lips, gentle and sweet and soft. Louis places his hands
on Harry’s waist, tugging his fingers through Harry’s hair before pulling away.

“We should probably get back to class,” Louis tells him apologetically. Harry sighs, nodding
in agreement.

“Alright,” he says, as Louis helps him up and they head down the bleachers together. As they
walk inside together, Louis slings an arm over his shoulders and Harry melts into his side,
leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

I love you Harry thinks dazedly, and if he were to say it in that moment he would completely
mean it. Instead, he squeezes closer to Louis and tries not to dread the day that this will end.
***
On Thursday afternoon, Harry’s standing by his locker when Sophia marches up to him.

“Hey,” she says, giving him a quick hug. Harry grins. “So I was meaning to ask you, are you
going to Louis’ game this weekend?” Sophia asks, linking her arm through his. Harry turns to
her in confusion. “You know, his football game. I only know ‘cause Liam’s playing in it too.”

“Louis didn’t mention it to me,” Harry tells her. She frowns.

“I don’t suppose you wanna go support our boyfriends?” Sophia asks. “I’ve only gone to a
couple of games and they were boring as hell, but I doubt it would be as bad if you were
there.” Harry laughs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sure we can go,” Harry tells her, not really thinking it through. She looks up in
surprise.

“Really?” she asks. Harry shrugs and nods.

“Yeah, we need to be good significant others,” he says jokingly. She laughs, resting her head
against his shoulder.

“Okay, this could be fun,” she says. Harry’s about to respond when he spots Zayn walking
towards them, grinning and nodding when he sees them.

“Hey,” he says, giving them a quick wave.

“Hey, Zayn, have you ever gone to any of Louis’ football games?” Sophia asks, stopping
when they reach him. Zayn grimaces.

“A couple, just to support him, but they’re really not great,” Zayn informs them.

“Well, Harry and I are attempting to support our boyfriends, so we’re gonna go this weekend,
if you wanna join us,” she tells him. Zayn raises his eyebrows in delegation.

“I mean, if you guys are going I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Zayn says thoughtfully. Harry and
Sophia cheer, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey is uh, is Niall coming?” Zayn asks nonchalantly. Harry raises his eyebrows.

“He’s meeting us here in a minute, we’ll ask him,” he says. As if on cue, Niall bounds up to
the three of them, bursting out of the crowd.

“Hey, guys,” he says, wrapping an arm around Harry and Sophia’s shoulders. “Oh, hey
Zayn,” he adds cooly when he spots him. Zayn nods at him, grinning, and Harry stares at the
two of them.

“So we’re going to Louis and Liam’s game this weekend,” Harry tells him, “and we want you
to come.” Niall looks between the two of them incredulously.
“As much as I love Payno and Tommo, I don’t think I want to subject myself to a school
football game,” Niall tells them cockily, shrugging half apologetically.

“Aw, c’mon it won’t be that bad!” Zayn says to him, leaning against the locker. “We’ll have
fun.” Niall’s eyes widen in surprise, and he coughs.

“I mean, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” Harry turns to Sophia, who looks equally as confused as
he is. “Alright, we’re doing this then?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry says, “we’ll text you guys about it.” Niall clasps his hands together,
looking around.

“Alright, great.” He pauses, as if delegating what to do next. “I gotta get home, but let me
know what the plan is.”

“Yeah, I have to pick up my sister,” Zayn tells them a moment after Niall leaves, “so I’ll talk
to you guys later.” He claps them both on the shoulder before hurrying down the hallway.

“What’s going on with them?” Sophia asks a few seconds later. “I mean is it me, or are they
like, really flirty…?”

“It’s not you,” Harry answers, “Niall’s into him.” Sophia shrugs, considering this.

“I didn’t know Niall was - I mean, I thought he was straight,” she says thoughtfully.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry says, “I don’t know about Zayn though. We could be wrong about all
of this.” As Sophia nods in agreement, Liam and Louis appear out of the crowd in the
hallway, heading over to them.

“Hey,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry from behind as Liam kisses Sophia.
Harry smiles, turning so he can kiss him on the cheek.

“Hi,” he says, “so we were talking about Niall and Zayn…”

“Oh yeah, Zayn likes him,” Louis answers immediately, “he already told me, said I should
ask you guys what you thought he should do.”

“Niall seems like he likes him,” Sophia supplies, “I think they should get together.”

“You think everyone should get together,” Liam tells her, shaking his head, “you try to set up
everybody.” Sophia glares at him playfully, mock insulted.

“Wait, but I didn’t know Niall likes Zayn,” Liam says, confused. Harry shrugs.

“He hasn’t told us, we’re just guessing,” Harry informs him. Liam considers this.

“I told you he was clueless,” Sophia says to Harry, and it’s Liam’s turn to be offended.

“Well anyway, they’re both coming to the game on Saturday, so-” Harry begins, but Louis
cuts him off.
“You guys are coming to the game?” Louis asks, and Liam looks between the two of them.

“Yeah, figured we’d support you two,” Sophia teases as she leans up to pat Liam jokingly on
the shoulder.

“Cool,” Liam says, and Louis nods in agreement.

A moment later, Liam and Sophia begin to discuss their plans for the weekend, and Louis
tightens his arms around Harry.

“You don’t actually have to come,” he murmurs in a low voice, “if you wanna avoid it, you
really shouldn’t feel like you need to-”

“I want to,” Harry tells him quietly, “I wanna see you.” Louis grins, shaking his head.

“Alright, well don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Louis says, and then his voice softens. “But I’m
really glad you’re coming.”

“Me too,” Harry tells him, squeezing his hand.

***

His opinion has changed by Saturday, though, and the moment Harry arrives at the game is
the moment he realizes what a bad idea this was.

He steps out of the back of Zayn’s car and his breath catches in his throat as he sees the
crowd. Hundreds of other students are streaming in, a roar of excited chatter hitting him as he
opens the car door, and his chest suddenly feels tight as he takes it all in. Immediately, panic
starts to set in, and he takes a shaky, uneven breath as he follows the other three of them into
the gates.

“Okay, so Liam got us tickets already,” Sophia calls to them as she leads them, to Harry’s
relief, past the massive gathering in front of the ticket booth. “We just have to get seats, but
he told me that this should be early enough to get good ones.”

“Jesus, I forgot how crowded these got,” Zayn says, practically shouting to them. Sophia
laughs, nodding.

“Yeah, they’re miserable, Louis and Liam owe us for this,” she agrees. “Oh, here, there’s a
row of bleachers that’s free in the front.” She gestures a few feet ahead of them to a group of
empty seats, and the four of them hurry over to them.

Harry settles next to Sophia, who links her arm with his and rests her chin on his shoulder.
“You okay?” she asks him quietly.

“Yeah,” Harry says, head pounding. People are still filing endlessly into the field, and Harry
feels slightly dizzy.

“Hey, how many times do you think those two are gonna flirt before the first game is over?”
she whispers. Harry steals a glance at Niall and Zayn, who are laughing at something on
Niall’s phone.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to count,” Harry answers, and Sophia snorts.

“That’s what you and Louis used to be like,” she tells him, “you guys were so embarrassing.”
Harry grins despite himself, and he’s about to respond when the speakers crackle to life,
announcing that the game is beginning.

The bleachers erupt in noise as the teams emerge from either ends of the fields. Louis is in
front with Liam close behind him as he leads the team into the center of the field, smirking
slightly. Harry grins, fondly and proudly.

Harry watches as Louis shakes hands with the opposing team’s captain, he assumes, and then
within the span of thirty seconds the teams get into position and the referee blows the whistle
and the game jerks to a start.

Having never watched Louis play football before, Harry didn’t really have a sense of what he
was like as a player. Before they had even met he’d known that Louis was the star player, far
superior to most other team captains, but he hadn’t known exactly how talented he was. Louis
is effortless as he steals the ball and navigates his way around the other team, the rest of the
players paling in comparison.

Their team wins by fifteen points, and the bleachers celebrate appropriately. Even though the
screams make Harry want to collapse in on himself, he still cheers as he watches Louis throw
his arms around Liam, grinning proudly and triumphantly.

A few moments later, the people watching begin to spill out onto the field, and Louis looks
over to him and smiles, eyes shining. He begins to head towards him, so Harry pushes his
way past the people in front of him and through the gate, rushing towards him.

Harry throws his arms around Louis’ neck when they reach each other, and Louis responds
by lifting him easily off the ground before setting him down and kissing him. When they
break apart, a few people, (including Chris, Harry is disgusted to see) have stopped to watch
them.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Louis snaps, and everyone suddenly hurries away. Harry
giggles and buries his face in Louis’ neck.

“You were amazing, babe!” Harry tells him when he looks up again. Louis smiles fondly,
pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Well, I had my good luck charm,” Louis replies, and Harry laughs and blushes. “Can you
wait for me to change, and then we can do something together?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, nodding enthusiastically, so Louis squeezes his hand before disappearing

“Hey, so do you guys wanna all get food or something?” Niall suggests, glancing around.

“Sorry, we can’t,” Sophia answers, grabbing Liam’s hand. “He’s meeting my parents tonight
so we have to make a good first impression.” Liam grins nervously, smiling lovingly at
Sophia, and Louis has to admit that even after everything he said to him about their
relationship, they’re pretty good together.

“Anyone else?” Niall says, turning to Harry and Louis. Louis opens his mouth to turn him
down when Harry cuts in.

“Actually, we can’t,” he says apologetically, “but you and Zayn should still go.” He makes
eye contact with Louis for a fraction of a second, grinning, and Louis smirks.

“Yeah, alright,” Zayn answers, turning to Niall, “you want to?”

“Oh, yeah! Definitely!” Niall bounces enthusiastically, looking around the circle. “So I
suppose I’ll see you lads -and ladies-” (Sophia winks at him), “all later.”

“Have fun,” Harry says to the two of them with a smirk, and Louis snorts. Zayn gives them a
quick wave and grin before turning to Niall and falling into step beside him as they head to
Zayn’s car.

“So back to my house?” Louis suggests, looking at Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, and Louis pulls him towards the car. The sky is already beginning to
darken, grey clouds casting a grim tone over everything, streetlights illuminating the
highway, and Harry suddenly feels exhausted.

“Can we order takeaway?” He asks, as Louis pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“Of course,” Louis tells him, grinning at him in the rearview mirror as . “I don’t think
anyone’s home right now, but my mum and sisters will be back at like nine.”

“Okay,” Harry says, “That’s fine, then.”

“Thanks for coming,” Louis says, genuinely grateful. “I know that that probably wasn’t your
scene, but it means a lot that you came.”

“You were so good, Louis,” Harry says, completely serious. “I’m glad I saw you.” Louis
smiles proudly, pulling into his driveway.

“Thanks, baby,” he says gently, taking Harry’s hand as they enter the house.

They order the Chinese food as soon as they get there and the food doesn’t show up until
eight, but when it does they eat it from paper plates on Louis’ bed. It’s pouring outside now,
hail and rain drops tapping endlessly against Louis’ window.

“Can you drive in this?” Harry asks finally, and Louis grimaces.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He hesitates for a moment. “You can sleep over if you want,”
Louis suggests, almost nervously. “I just… I don’t think I can drive in this…”

“Yeah,” Harry says, his voice slightly higher than normally as he considers this, “Are you
sure your mum’s okay with that?”
“Yeah, hang on…” Louis pushes himself off of the bed, heading to the door. “Mum?!” he
calls loudly, “Can Harry stay over tonight, since he can’t get home in this weather?”

“Of course!” Harry hears faintly, “Do you need help getting set up?”

“Nope, we got it!” Louis shouts, before turning back to Harry and grinning. “You need to
borrow pajamas, right?”

Harry nods, smiling as Louis digs through a drawer and tosses him a tee shirt and sweatpants.
“Do you maybe have a sweatshirt, too?” he asks nervously, noticing the length of the sleeves.

“Oh, yeah, here.” Louis hands him the same sweatshirt he borrowed months ago at that party.

“Thanks,” Harry says, “Can I just use your bathroom to change?” Louis nods, gesturing
unnecessarily to the bathroom door. Harry swing his legs off of Louis’ bed, setting his plate
on the table as he heads to the bathroom.

He changes quickly, making sure the sleeves are pulled safely over his wrists. It hasn’t been
too hard hide it until now, but staying overnight is a whole different problem, and he can’t let
Louis find out.

When he reenters, Louis has cleared off the bed. “You’re okay with sharing, right?” Louis
asks, spinning around to look at him from the bed. Harry swallows.

“We wouldn’t have to - um -” Louis shakes his head firmly.

“Of course not, babe nothing you aren’t ready for.” Harry nods, cheeks hot, as he props
himself onto Louis’ bed.

“But, um,” Louis clears his throat, rubbing his neck uncomfortably, “we should probably talk
about it, seeing that we’ve been dating for a bit now and I think we will be for a while more.”

“I, uh,” Harry clears his throat, kneading his hands into the comforter. “I’ve never, you know,
done anything like that,” He mumbles, not looking at Louis.

“That’s fine,” Louis says sincerely, placing his hands on top of his. Harry bites his lip.

“I’m not… I don’t think I wanna do anything soon,” he admits timidly.

“That’s fine, baby,” Louis says reassuringly, giving him a small smile. “We can wait as long
as you need to.”

“You aren’t mad?” Harry asks anxiously, eyes wide.

“God no, not at all,” Louis says gently, “why would I be?”

“I just, um, I thought you might be annoyed that I didn’t want to do anything yet,” Harry
rushes, not looking at him. Louis squeezes his hands.
“Baby, no,” Louis assures him, “I’m dating you because I think you’re perfect, not because I
need to have sex.”

“But you weren’t, like used to it?” Harry says shyly. Louis bites his lip.

“I would rather be with you than be having sex with anyone.” Cheeks flaming, Harry looks
away. “You can ask me,” Louis adds nervously, “if you're wondering about like, my history
we can talk about it.”

“How many people?” Harry says uneasily, after a pause. Louis sighs, glancing down.

“Like, sex or?”

“More than kissing,” Harry replies.

“Um, about fifteen, I think,” Louis answers, taking a sharp breath. Harry bites his lip,
nodding.

“Girls or guys?” he continues.

“Only two girls,” Louis replies, shifting uncomfortably. “And for the guys, some of them
were exes but most of them were just hookups.”

Harry nods, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Are you sure you aren't gonna get bored if we
aren't - you know - doing anything?” he says timidly, looking up anxiously. Louis shakes his
head firmly, fixing Harry with a stare.

“Hey,” he says gently, tilting his chin upwards so he's looking at him, “you're the most
interesting person I know. Way more interesting than sex.” Harry laughs despite himself, and
Louis grins.

“Seriously, Hazza, we don't have to do anything you don't want. I'm not evil, I would never
force you into anything.” His voice is full of sincerity, and Harry trusts him. He nods, giving
Louis a quick smile.

“You wanna lie down?” Louis suggests, stretching as he yawns. “We could watch a movie or
something…” Harry nods, laying down on his side next to Louis. Almost nervously, he
reaches out to drape an arm across his chest. Louis responds by tucking an arm underneath
Harry and pulling him into his side, so that he’s cuddled into his side, warmth spreading to
everywhere they’re touching.

***

“What do you wanna watch?” Louis says absently, switching on his TV and scrolling through
their options.

“Just put on a sitcom or something,” Harry suggests tiredly, so Louis selects Parks and
Recreation and that’s how they spend the next several hours. Louis doesn’t think he could
think of anything more appealing.
“You tired?” Louis asks Harry after a while, shifting so that they’re facing each other. Harry
shrugs.

“A bit,” he murmurs, “what time is it?”

“Uh, twelve,” Louis answers, “we can turn the lights out if you want.” Harry nods, so Louis
stretches across to his bedside table to click off the lamp as Harry shuts off the TV.

As he settles back into position, the only light is coming from the streetlights and moon
streaming in through his curtains, casting the room in a soft, fuzzy light. Absently, Harry
reaches over to trace Louis’ tattoos. He outlines the heart gently, moving downward to the
stag, and then to the sleeve on his forearm.

“Do you like them?” Louis asks in a hushed, warm voice. Harry looks up at him.

“Yeah,” he says honestly, “I think they’re amazing.”

“Not too intimidating?” Louis says teasingly. Harry laughs.

“You aren’t really that intimidating,” Harry replies, and Louis narrows his eyes jokingly.

“I’m extremely intimidating, Harold.” Harry giggles, shaking his head. “Maybe not towards
you, but to some people.”

“Well I thought you were intimidating when we first met,” Harry muses, “but not once I got
to know you; you aren’t scary at all.”

“You were scared of me when we met?” Louis says, genuinely surprised.

“Not, like scared, but intimidated,” Harry answers. Louis frowns, considering this.

“I wasn’t trying to intimidate you,” Louis tells him sincerely, “I just thought you were really
cute.” Harry blushes, snuggling closer to Louis.

“When did I stop seeming intimidating?” Louis asks curiously. Harry hesitates, as if he’s
debating whether or not to give him a real answer.

“Like, when I went to your house for the first time,” he answers, “but I liked you a long time
before that.” Louis thinks back to that day, remembering Harrys whole aura, the constant
stuttering and blushing and averting his gaze.

“We’d known each other for a while then, babe,” Louis says thoughtfully. Harry shrugs,
looking up at him with wide eyes. “I feel bad that I scared you.”

“You don’t have to feel bad,” Harry tells him, squeezing his arm, “you weren’t that scary
even back then.” Louis fixes his eyes on him, gaze soft and fond.

“When did you know you liked me?” he asks, brushing his thumb across Harry’s cheek.
“I think it was when we were talking about the Script concert,” Harry says, “I liked you really
fast.”

“I first liked you when we talked for the first time and you pretty much told me how to write
an essay.” Harry laughs at the memory. “But I didn’t really accept it until that time in the
bakery.”

Harry stays quiet for a few moments, listening to the even rhythm of the rain on Louis’
windowpanes. “Lou?” he says sleepily after a pause.

“Yeah?” Louis replies, turning to him.

“Which tattoo was your first?” Louis laughs, turning to him.

“Where’d that come from?” Harry smiles lazily, shrugging.

“I was just wondering.” Louis chuckles, and Harry shifts so he’s propping himself up on
Louis’ chest. Louis smiles, rubbing his hand gently up and down Harry’s back.

“It was the stick figure,” Louis tells him, “and it escalated from there.”

“Did it mean anything?” Harry asks him. Louis shakes his head, grimacing slightly.

“Most of them I just liked,” Louis explains, “the one with Zayn was for our friendship, and ‘it
is what it is’ was a quote I liked, but the others I just thought looked sick.” Harry smiles.

“Do you remember getting all of them?” he asks, and Louis nods. “Mhm, what’s the story
behind this one?” He presses a finger lightly to the stag.

“You really like that one, huh?” Louis observes, and Harry shrugs and nods. Louis bites his
lip, closing his eyes momentarily.

Louis swallows as he remembers the day he came home with the stag and the heart inked
onto his bicep, on full display if he’s not wearing long sleeves. He had sauntered into his
house -or more accurately, perhaps, stumbled in, he’d been drinking- at two am, to find Mark
standing a few feet from the doorway, staring darkly at him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mark had hissed dangerously, and Louis, being
tipsy and overly cocky and fueled by hatred, had laughed.

“How sweet of you to wait up for me,” he retorted spitefully, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Mark narrowed his eyes.

“You stole my car, used my money to do God knows what and come home at this time
drunk? And you have nothing else to say?”

“I’m so terribly sorry, dad, I hope you won’t let this get in the way of our relationship!” Louis
replied with a pout.
“What the hell is that?” Mark snapped suddenly, gesturing to the plastic wrapped around his
bicep.

“New tattoo,” Louis answered, smirking as his gaze darkened. “What do you think, it was
very expensive-”

And Mark hit him across the face.

It was a rough, powerful strike that sent Louis staggering back a few steps. He flinched as he
straightened up, rubbing his jaw, heart pounding with actual fear for the first time in as long
as he’d known Mark.

“You are a fucking failure, Louis,” he snarled, eyes wild with rage, “Your mother knows it, I
know it, anyone who can see what an absolute disaster you are knows it. You’re a disgrace to
my family and your mother, and I won’t put up with your bullshit for much longer. The
second you graduate you’re leaving this house, if you even manage to get that far. This is the
last time you pull stunts like this underneath my roof understand?”

Not wanting to give him a reaction, Louis met his gaze icily, holding it until Mark finally
turned away in disgust.

“Oh, by the way, don’t mention this to your mother, alright? We both know who she’ll
believe.” With that, he stalked upstairs, leaving Louis alone in the darkness of his hallway,
shaking and cradling his throbbing jaw.

He’d showed up at school the next day with a bruise that took up half of his chin, he told
everyone, bragged, in fact, that he’d gotten into a bar fight. All but Zayn, who had dragged
him away from the crowds and demanded to know the truth. When he admitted what
happened, it had several hours to convince him not to call the cops, until he won the
argument with the statement “Do you think the police are gonna believe the guy who owns a
multi-million dollar company or his teenage stepson with dozens of tattoos?”

He hadn’t thought about that day in a while, not liking to dwell on his moments of
vulnerability. But right now, laying in the dark with the rain tapping rhythmically against his
window panes with Harry curled tightly against him, he doesn’t feel the need to forget it.

“Lou?” Harry says softly, and Louis shakes himself back to reality.

“Sorry, baby,” he rushes, “I got that one a couple months ago, just a few weeks before I met
you. Not a very eventful story.”

Harry hums in response, dropping his head onto Louis’ chest. He takes a breath,
overwhelmed with the sudden emotion he feels for this boy.

“‘m tired,” Harry says absently. Louis strokes his curls gently, watching him fondly.

“We can go to sleep,” he says with a yawn, fatigue clouding over him suddenly. Harry looks
up to smile drowsily at him, kissing him lightly and briefly on the lips.
 “G’night, Louis,” he murmurs softly, tucking his head underneath his chin. Louis kisses the
top of his hair, closing his eyes.

“‘Night, Hazza,” he replies.

When he falls asleep, with Harry wrapped in his arms, head resting on his chest, I love you is
ringing in his head. It dies each time it rises to his lips.

Chapter End Notes

I love you all sooooo much thank you for reading and leaving kudos and comments,
you're all wonderful and feel free to leave more.

If you have any questions or need me to clarify something about the story, characters,
relationships, etc feel free to leavr it in the comments or in my askon tumblr.

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes

Hey fam, hope you're all enjoying the hq MITAM leak as much as I am.

Same warnings as always apply for this chapter; mentions of self harm, depression,
suicidality, but it's very brief and not detailed.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Harry wakes up, it takes him a moment to realize where he is. When he realizes he’s
still with Louis, tucked securely underneath his arm, head resting against his chest, a sense of
calm settles over him.

“Who the fuck is that?” Louis mumbles, voice slurred as he rubs his eyes. Harry winces,
throwing an arm across Louis’ chest as he gropes around on the table for his phone.

“ ‘s Niall,” Harry groans, blinking a few times. Louis shrugs, as if to say ‘go on’ so Harry
clicks accept.

“Why the fuck are you even awake right now?” Harry snaps, and he actually has to shift the
phone away from his ear as Niall responds.

“Harry! Ha, mate, I’ve got such big news for you!” Niall shouts, and even Louis grimaces.
“Are you with Tommo?”

“Yup,” Louis says, raising his voice so Niall can hear him, “this better be fucking good,
Horan.”

“Loueh!” another voice yells giddily, and Louis turns to Harry and mouths Zayn? “Alright,
listen up-”

“We’re dating now!” Niall interrupts him, and there’s laughter on the other end of the phone
as Louis and Harry smirk at each other in amusement.

“Yeah, last night we kissed and we, uh, just decide that we wanna try it out!” Zayn says, and
even through the phone Harry can hear the smile in his voice.

“Congratulations,” Harry says dryly, but he’s smiling, “I was wondering when you guys
would finally do that, I’m happy for you two.” Louis reaches over and plucks the phone out
of his hand, lifting it to his ear.
“Hey, I’m really really happy for you guys, seriously, and I wanna hear all about it, but this
could have waited until a reasonable hour,” he says irritably, even though he’s grinning “and
also, don’t think we can’t figure out that you two slept over at one of your houses.” The
silence on the other end of the phone confirms it, and Harry snorts as he lays his head back
on Louis’ chest. “So we will give you a proper congratulations later, but Harry and I are
going back to sleep.” With that, he ends the call and places the phone heavily on the table,
bringing his hands up to stroke Harry’s curls.

“Was that too mean of me?” Louis asks after a moment, squinting at the sunlight that’s now
glaring through the window panes. Harry positions himself so his chin is resting on Louis’
chest, smiling lazily at him.

“No,” he yawns, “they’ll be fine, they have Liam and Sophia to bother.” Louis laughs. “What
time is it anyway?”

“Like half nine, shit,” Louis tells him, wincing. “I guess we’re just exhausted. No point in
trying to sleep now, I suppose.”

Harry hums in agreement, shifting up ever so slightly to press a light kiss to Louis’ lips.

“Morning,” Louis says lazily, running a hand down Harry’s back. Harry smiles warmly,
burying his face in Louis’ chest.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs. Louis laughs, brushing his hair gently out of his face.

“You’re so pretty,” Louis replies with a smile, and Harry blushes, wishing he could believe
him.

“Are you hungry?” Louis asks after a moment. Harry situs up, stretching and discreetly
tugging up the sleeves of Louis’ jumper.

“Hm, a bit,” Harry mumbles, as Louis sits up beside him, running a hand through his mussed
hair and smiling contently at Harry.

“Pancakes?” Louis suggests. Harry nods, leaning into the warmth of Louis’ shoulder, and
Louis laughs as he locks an arm around Harry’s shoulders, guiding him off of the bed.

“Do you even know how to make pancakes?” Harry asks him, giggling when Louis scowls
playfully at him.

“Well, the only thing I need help with is the whisking, so…” Harry laughs, dropping his head
onto Louis’ shoulders and intertwining their fingers as they head downstairs.

“Where is everyone?” Harry asks as they enter the empty kitchen. Louis shrugs nonchalantly,
as if waking up to an empty mansion isn’t uncommon.

“The girls are probably in their rooms or with a friend, Mark’s off fucking somebody over,
and my mum’s probably with him,” Louis says, voice faltering slightly. Harry squeezes his
hand supportively, and Louis gives him a brief smile.
“So, I have pancake mix here,” Louis tells him as he pulls out a box of Bisquik and a mixing
bowl, setting it on the counter. “I’m assuming you can do this better than I can…” Harry
snorts, shaking his head fondly as he grabs the box from Louis and begins to read the
instructions.

“It’s really not that hard,” Harry informs him, beginning to mix the ingredients. Louis mimics
being insulted.

“How dare you come into my home, insult my cooking skills…” Harry laughs, smiling at
him.

“You have many strengths,” Harry begins teasingly, “your cooking is not one of them.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose,” Louis says cheekily, setting a carton of milk on the
counter for him. “I can turn the stove on though.”

“Oh, how impressive,” Harry says dryly, and Louis turns towards him with a grin.

“Good morning,” a voice says flatly, and both boys jump as they turn to see Lottie, leaning
against the kitchen entry, looking unimpressed.

“Hey Lotts,” Louis says, clearing his throat.

“Hi Lottie,” Harry supplies, scooping the batter onto the pan to busy himself. Lottie stares at
the two of them, watching them carefully before entering the kitchen and settling on one of
the stools.

“So is there any chance that I could get one of those pancakes?” she says casually, and Louis
breathes a sigh of obvious relief.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry says to her, and she smiles back at him.

“Thanks,” she replies, and Harry relaxes.

And then he exchanges a brief glance with Louis, who still looks extremely tense. He knows
exactly what he’s thinking.

They’re going to get caught. It’s just a matter of when, and who. And he knows that Louis is
absolutely terrified.

***

Louis drops Harry off about an hour later, avoiding the discussion of their close encounter
with Lottie. When he arrives back home, though, she’s sitting on their couch, not looking up
at him.

“So did you have fun last night?” Lottie asks coldly. Louis’ stomach drops at her tone of
voice.
“Yeah,” he answers cautiously, crossing his arms. Lottie fixes him with a hard stare, which
Louis returns. “If you have something to say than go ahead.”

“I know he’s your boyfriend!” Lottie snarls, almost hysterically, and Louis’ heart skips a beat.
He doesn’t answer at first, just stares at her, eyes cold and desperate and jaw clenched.

“Who told you that?” Louis asks finally, heart racing. He doesn’t let his expression reveal
anything, but she isn’t fooled.

“My friend Jane’s brother,” she tells him “he goes to your school.” Louis shuts his eyes,
taking a sharp breath.

“Have you told anyone?” he says flatly. Lottie grimaces, shaking her head.

“No,” she replies. Louis props himself against the wall, gritting his teeth.

“Are you going to?” he says. Lottie stares at him blankly for a few moments.

“No,” she answers, “I’m not gonna tell mom and dad, I know that’s what you’re worried
about.” Louis exhales in relief, tapping his fingers against the wall.

“Thank you-” he starts, but Lottie scoffs and shakes her head.

“Why would you not tell me this, Louis? Did you think I would tell everyone? That I
wouldn’t be okay with the fact that you’re gay?” Her eyes are bright, her voice harsh, and
Louis is taken aback by her sudden outburst.

“Lottie, it’s complicated, and you’re so young-”

“Don’t tell me I’m too young, Louis! I’m old enough to understand this.” Louis stares at his
younger sister, half guilty and half impressed.

“Okay,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. Lottie blinks, obviously surprised. “You’re
right, you’re old enough to understand, and I should’ve trusted you.” Lottie crosses her arms,
frowning.

“Good,” she says stiffly, and Louis grins and reaches forward to muss her hair. She scowls at
him and swats him away, before giving him a begrudging smile.

“So how long have you been dating?” she asks with a smirk, and Louis shakes his head in
mock disbelief.

“I’m not going to discuss my relationship with my twelve year old sister,” Louis says
teasingly, and Lottie glares at him again. “Like two months,” he adds begrudgingly, and she
gives him a satisfied smirk.

“Alright,” she says, clearly contented, “but don’t ever try to keep a big secret like that from
me.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Louis says with a straight face, and grins when she laughs. Lottie gives
him a quick, one armed hug that she has to stand on tiptoes to deliver. Surprised, Louis wraps
her arms around her softly, squeezing her arm as he pulls away.

Louis heads upstairs, collapsing against his bedroom door and scrubbing a hand over his face.
Maybe he should be relieved but he feels nothing but terror all of a sudden.

They can’t keep this a secret forever. Even if Lottie keeps her promise of disgression and if
he and Harry are careful when they’re at Louis’ -or in public, for that matter- it’s only a
matter of time before someone lets it slip to his mother or Mark. They’re running out of time
and eventually, he’s going to pay the price for this. That scares him more than almost
anything.

The only thing that scares him more is the fact that he’s absolutely certain Harry is worth it.

***
Harry’s in his room a few days later when his mother interrupts his homework, shouting for
him to come downstairs. Sighing, he pushes himself reluctantly off of his bed and heads
downstairs, exasperated.

“Mum, what?” he calls as he enters the kitchen, trying not to sound impatient.

“Well don’t sound so happy,” another girl’s voice says, and it’s not Anne but Gemma who
answers, leaned over the table with a smug grin. Harry stares at her, a wide, genuine smile
spreading across his face.

“No fucking way,” Harry says, astonished, and grins as she propels herself into his arms.

“You asshole, you’re almost taller than me!” she teases as she pulls away, squeezing his
shoulder.

“Language, you two!” Anne clucks, but she’s beaming as she shakes her head at the pair of
them. Gemma rolls her eyes, scowling good naturedly.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks her, shaking his head in disbelief.

“My classes on Monday got cancelled so I figured I’d come visit,” she replies happily.

“Darling, obviously we’re thrilled you’re here, but I still have a shift this afternoon, and I just
can’t cancel,” Anne tells her regretfully. Gemma shrugs, unphased.

“Go ahead, mum, me and Harry can hang out.” Gemma punches him lightly on the shoulder,
and Anne smiles again.

“Alright, loves, I’ll be back around five and we can figure out dinner then?” Gemma nods,
hugging her once more before she pats Harry on the arm before rushing out the front door.

“She still works all the time?” Gemma says, almost sadly, and Harry nods, frowning. Gemma
sighs, sweeping her hair out of her face.
“It’s so good to see you,” Gemma says earnestly, slinging an arm around his neck.

“I missed you,” Harry tells her truthfully, sitting down and patting the seat next to him. She
collapses into it, taking a long, tired breath.

“Harry,” she says, gentle and careful, “are you doing okay?” She reaches across to squeeze
his hand, and Harry averts his gaze.

“Yeah,” he lies, lifting his gaze. Gemma raises her eyebrows skeptically, so Harry rolls his
eyes, throwing her an exasperated look.

“Gems, I’m fine,” he tells her. Gemma drums her fingers against the counter, looking away.

“Okay,” she says, after a moment of hesitation, “because you just haven’t been yourself-”

“I’m fine, Gemma!” he says sharply, jerking his hand away from her. She bites her lip,
raising her hands innocently.

“Alright, God,” she replies, and edge to her voice. Harry grits his teeth, averting his gaze
from her.

Since they were kids, Harry and Gemma have been more or less attached at the hip. When
Harry was fourteen, he’d told her, tearfully and petrified, that he was gay, making her the first
one he came out to. When she was devastated about her rejection from University she’d come
to him, weeping, and let him talk her through it until she felt better.

Gemma was around when things first started to go downhill for Harry. Obviously, she hadn’t
known about the tormenting at school or the cutting or the suicidal tendencies, but they were
close enough for her to notice when Harry started to change, stopped smiling and laughing as
much and retreated into himself more. She confronted him about it a few times, but after a
few months of him brushing her off she gave up.

At least until about four months ago, when she visited from Uni for the second time that year
only to find Harry in the worst state he had ever been. Not that he let on - despite the fact that
he was weeks fresh of a pitiful suicide attempt and couldn’t remember ever feeling worse, he
put on a glass smile for Gemma and acted like, as she called it, his “old self”. And everything
was good until one night when she’d been home and she’d approached him, timid and
concerned.

“Harry?” she’d said softly, and he looked up from the couch, where he was buried in a too
large sweatshirt to cover up the dozens of new cuts on his wrists, mindlessly watching an
episode of a show he can’t remember.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and she stared at him, looking heartbroken.

“I should be asking you that,” she replied, harshly, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “I talked
to Liam, and he told me that he’s worried about you too, that there are guys at school-”

“You talked to Liam about me?” Harry replied, horrified. Gemma bit her lip, taking a deep
breath.
“Yeah, because you haven’t been yourself, H, and you’re really starting to scare me-”

“You don’t get to fucking talk to my best friend about my mental health, or whatever,” Harry
snarled, panic rising in his throat, “and whatever he told you about school is an
exaggeration-”

“He just said I should ask you about it!” Gemma shouted, sounding close to tears. “Harry,
you’re my little brother and I’m worried-”

“Fuck off, Gemma, I told you I was fine and it’s not my fucking problem if you distrust me
so much that you went behind my back and talked to my best friend.” With that, Harry had
stormed out, and didn’t speak to her for the rest of the time she was visiting.

After Liam found out (through Gemma, probably), that Harry had been angry, he apologized
so profusely and sincerely that Harry had no choice but to forgive him. Gemma was a
different story.

He ignored her texts and calls for ten days after that, until he finally couldn’t bear the anxiety
that was weighing on him because of it. They addressed it briefly- Harry fed her the same
story he fed everyone: he was fine, he was just stressed out, he was sorry; and Gemma
apologized again and again for betraying him, and that was the end of it. He knew she hadn’t
stopped thinking about it, though, and it’s been a point of contention between them ever
since.

“So how come you haven’t told me anything about your boyfriend?” Gemma says, changing
the subject and shaking him out of his memory. Harry snorts, not quite having forgiven her
for even bringing it up.

“Been talking to Liam about that too?” he says bitterly. Gemma glares at him, jaw clenched.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware that I follow you on social media,” she deadpans, and Harry
gives her a reluctant smile. She relaxes visibly, smiling at him. “C’mon, Louis Tomlinson? Is
he related to the guy that owns that fancy hotel company?”

“Probably,” Harry says, realizing Louis’ never gone into detail about what Mark does,
preferring to hotly abuse his colleagues and workline rather than explain it. “His stepdad,”
Harry adds, and Gemma nods, raising her eyebrows.

“So will I get to meet him?” she says, smirking. Harry frowns thoughtfully.

“We’ll see,” Harry replies, smirking. “Don’t like, threaten him or anything like that.”

“Oh, he’s dating my baby brother? He’s definitely getting threatened.” Harry rolls his eyes,
exasperated, and Gemma laughs, and for a second things feel like they always have between
them.

But even when they spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, drinking cocoa and
chatting easily about their respective schools, the worry doesn’t leave her eyes, and Harry
knows he has no one to blame but himself.
***

Harry tries hard to stop Gemma and Louis from meeting, he really does.

He loves both of them terribly, that’s not the issue. It’s more that he’s terrified of them not
loving each other - Gemma, while being wonderful, has always been one to jump to
conclusions, and he’s still afraid that when she see’s Louis, with his tattoos and “I don’t give
a fuck” attitude that can be easily if you don’t know him well, she’ll immediately label him
as, well, a burnout, as Louis had put it.

It’s inevitable though, he supposes. On Sunday night, Gemma is visiting with some old
secondary school friends, so Harry thinks it’s safe to invite Louis over. They’ve been
spending even more time together than usual since -true to his word- Harry started helping
him with school, and despite resisting at first, Louis reluctantly allowed him to.

Louis is smart, that’s never even been a question in Harry’s mind. His only problem, as far as
Harry can tell, is lack of motivation and interest. It took Harry ages to persuade Louis to even
start on a few assignments with a little effort, and even then it was a kicking and screaming
event.

Still, though, he’s improving. Even Louis admitted, if begrudgingly, that it isn’t quite as bad
as he’d imagined, that some of his classes have improved, and Harry’s proud of him.

So on Sunday night they’re in Harry’s living room, papers scattered across the floor. Harry’s
getting less work done than he would like to be due to the fact that Louis’ laying across his
lap, smiling up at him and chatting as Harry tries to finish an essay.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Harry snaps finally, even though he can’t repress a grin. Louis
pouts, reaching up to flick a curl out of his face.

“I actually did it already, Harold,” Louis tells him, smirking. Harry smiles, slightly surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Louis pauses, biting his lip, “I guess it’s kind of… maybe I do care a little
bit, about graduating and all.” He looks up at Harry almost sheepishly, as if admitting it is
monumental. It is, for him, Harry supposes.

“That said, I still think you should make out with me instead of writing an essay.” Harry rolls
his eyes, cheeks hot, but he doesn’t stop Louis when he sits up and wraps his arms around
Harry’s waist, leaning in to press a kiss to his neck. Harry bites his lip, closing his eyes as
Louis moves up just underneath his chin, kissing him forcefully enough to leave a mark.

And then the front door swings open, and Louis practically jumps off of him, eyes wide.
Gemma is standing there, staring at the two of them, looking unimpressed.

“I thought you were going out,” Harry says, clearing his throat. She snorts.

“We were just getting a drink,” she replies, then fixes her gaze on Louis. “Am I interrupting
something?”
“No-” Harry begins, as Louis stands up, smoothing his hair and tugging on his shirt in vain.

“I’m Louis Tomlinson,” he says weakly, sticking out a hand to him, and Harry doesn’t miss
the brief moment of shock in her eyes as she looks him over.

“Pleasure,” she says flatly, taking his hand. “I’m Gemma, which I assume you know.” Louis
nods enthusiastically, and Harry can’t help but be endeared at the nervousness in his voice,
the obvious tension in his stance as he shifts slightly.

“So, Louis,” Gemma says carefully, as she settles on the couch, and it takes Harry every
ounce of willpower he has not to yell at her, “how did you meet Harry?”

“Um, English,” Louis answers, clearing his throat. “A couple of months ago-”

“Hm,” Gemma says dismissively, “and how long have you two been dating?”

“A little more than two months,” Louis answers, voice faltering slightly. Gemma nods.

“Alright, and tell me, Louis-” Harry glares at her, willing her to stop, but she continues
without any reaction, “are you freaked out right now? Be honest.”

“I, uh…” Louis laughs weakly, looking desperate, “A bit, but Harry kind of warned me that
you might do this when we met.” To Harry’s surprise, Gemma grins.

“Points for honesty, I suppose,” Gemma says, and Louis laughs, relaxing slightly. Harry
curses himself for allowing this to happen.

“I, um, I’m not, like an asshole or anything, if you were wondering that, and um-” Louis
glances desperately at Harry, “-yeah, so just, I really don’t want you to hate me-”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that Louis,” Gemma answers, and she’s grinning
incredulously as she stares between the two of them. “Okay, I will leave you two, but it was
lovely meeting you.” With that, she saunters out, leaving Harry and Louis alone.

“Oh my god, that was the worst thing I’ve ever said.” Louis winces, dropping his face into
his hands. “Oh, god.”

“What happened to you?” Harry asks, amused. Louis looks up at him, horrified.

“You were right, she’s terrifying,” Louis says. Harry cocks his head.

“If you think that was terrifying, I’ve got some bad news for you,” Harry informs him, and
Louis groans. “Hey, she didn’t hate you though!”

Louis’ face brightens ever so slightly. “I just really want your family to like me,” he admits,
cheeks slightly red.

“Hey, they love you,” Harry assures him, and Louis smiles.
He leaves about an hour later, leaving the house to Gemma and Harry. He storms into the
kitchen to find her leaning over a magazine.

“I told you not to threaten him,” Harry snaps, and she looks up with mild interest.

“I didn’t threaten him,” she says simply, and Harry glares at her.

“You were trying to intimidate him.” Gemma shrugs in confirmation.

“I was trying to make sure you picked a good guy.” Harry huffs in indignancy. “I think you
did, by the way,” she supplies, and Harry’s expression softens ever so slightly.

“Just don’t scare him like that,” Harry begs. Gemma laughs.

“I’m not gonna promise anything.” Harry rolls his eyes. “But seriously Harry, he seems really
nice. I’m glad you’re happy.”

Harry nods absently, leaning reluctantly into her arms when she opens them.

You picked a good guy. He can’t suppress a smile at that.

***

On Saturday night about two weeks later, around six o’clock, Louis calls him.

“Hey, can we go out tonight?” Louis asks, without even letting him say hello when he picks
up. Harry smiles.

“Yeah, okay,” he answers.

“Perfect,” Louis replies, and Harry can hear the grin in his voice. “I’m picking you up in
twenty, be ready.” Harry blinks.

“Where are we going?”

“Just be ready, it’s a surprise!” Louis singsongs, before ending the call. Harry rolls his eyes
fondly before shaking his head and standing up from his bed, heading to his drawer to grab a
sweater.

And that’s how Harry ends up waiting in front of his house twenty minutes later, waiting for
Louis to pull up to drag him off to God knows where. Louis arrives exactly on time, grinning
when he spots him and gesturing him over. Harry shakes his head with a smile, stepping off
of his porch and opening the passenger door.

“Hi,” Louis says happily, kissing him on the cheek. Harry smiles at him adoringly as he
fastens his seatbelt, looking over at him.

“So are you kidnapping me?” Louis grins as he pulls away, glancing at him through the
rearview mirror.

“Something like that,” he replies, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Where are we going?” he whines, pouting, and Louis laughs.

“Patience, Harold,” he teases. “But it’s an hour drive, so get comfortable.” Harry stares at
him in disbelief, unsure of whether he should laugh or be indignant. He settles on both,
crossing his arms and huffing irritably but unable to suppress a smirk. Louis laughs, taking
his eyes on the road momentarily to watch him.

“You can put on music if you want,” Louis tells him, and Harry glares playfully at him before
clicking on the radio begrudgingly.

And the next forty five minutes are passed like that; they sing along, loudly and obnoxiously,
to whatever songs come up, giggling their way through them. Louis smirks halfway through
Chandelier, grinning at him.

“What?” Harry asks, tucking a loose curl behind his ear self consciously. Louis doesn’t take
his eyes off of him, grinning satisfiedly. “What?” Harry presses, shoving him lightly.

“You finally sang in front of me,” Louis replies with a grin, and Harry blushes, biting his lip.

“Well, we were just messing around,” Harry replies defensively, and Louis cocks his head.

“You’re really good, baby, I get why you like it.” Harry rolls his eyes, cheeks hot.

“Just because I mentioned that I liked to sing in private when we first met doesn’t mean you
can use it against me,” Harry answers, thinking back to the moment they’d been discussing
pastimes and Harry stated, briefly and without thinking, that sometimes singing was one of
his.

“Alright,” Louis says, but he’s still smirking as he looks back at the road.

“Where are we going anyway?” Harry asks, changing the subject. Louis hesitates a moment.

“Okay, so, almost a year ago, I had this big fight with Mark, about drinking or something, I
can’t remember-” Harry bites his lip as Louis’ face hardens at the mention of it, “-but
anyway, I basically stormed out of the house, and I ended up driving for a while, until
somehow, I stumbled across this really hidden road, that we’ll hit in a moment-” he pauses,
glancing at Harry, “-and I really liked what I found, which you’ll see.”

As Louis had promised, a minute later he takes a sharp turn into a path that Harry would
never have assumed for safe to drive through. About a minute later, they emerge into a
clearing, and Harry realizes it’s a cliff, overlooking a beach that stretches out of their view.

Harry looks at Louis, gaze soft, before glancing out the window to get a better look. Waves
roll onto the shore, crashing evenly against the sand. The sun is just beginning to set,
touching on the edge of the water so the whole ocean is lit in an almost golden color. Harry
can’t remember the last time he was at a beach- his mom worked too much to travel a lot and
anyway, he prefered to avoid situations where his wrists or thighs could be exposed- so it’s
almost striking how gorgeous it looks.
“So, um, I somehow ended up here,” Louis says, and he seems almost nervous. “And I just -
it’s nice, right? So I thought you might-”

“It’s so gorgeous, Lou,” Harry tells him, and Louis smiles, looking relieved. “Thank you for
showing me.”

“Thanks for coming.” Louis intertwines their fingers, bringing Harry’s hand up to his lips and
kissing it gently. “And also, I’m not gonna starve you, I brought Thai food.”

“Oh, thank God,” Harry jokes, and Louis laughs as he reaches into the backseat to pull out
the takeaway bag.

They spread a blanket up towards the edge of the cliff, sitting cross legged and eating Thai
food from paper plates. They compete for who can toss more pieces of chicken into their
mouth (Harry wins, to Louis’ indignance) and they talk so easily and effortlessly, as they
always have, and after a bit Louis wraps his arms around Harry and Harry leans against him,
feeling happier and more content than he can remember feeling.

For a while, they’re just quiet, lost in the warmth of each other and the sound of waves
breaking against the shore as they watch the sun dip into an ocean. After a while, Louis
breaks the silence.

“Haz?” he says softly.

“Hm?” Harry replies quietly, glancing up at him.

“I love you.” Louis says it so calmly, so simply, with a warm, content smile, as if it isn’t the
most important thing Harry’s ever heard. Harry’s breath hitches, his eyes widening
desperately as he tries to make sense of it.

Louis shouldn’t love him. He’s worthless, fucked up, undeserving of his love, and the proof
of it isn’t just scattered across his thighs and wrists and stomach; it’s almost chemically
ingrained in him at this point. He’s never, ever been good enough for anything, and Louis is
too perfect to be real.

But.

But Louis is still here, holding him and telling him that he’s in love with him, and that has to
mean something. Harry doesn’t know if he can bear for it not to.

“You do?” he finally manages thickly, his voice only slightly higher than usual. Louis nods,
eyes soft and full of emotion.

“I’m not - you don’t have to like, say it back, if you don’t want, and I’m not gonna like,
propose to you tomorrow, and we don’t have to be together forever or anything,’ Louis takes
a sharp breath, flustered, “I just, I do, you know, love you, and I wanted to let you know.”
Harry stares at Louis, desperately trying to find some kind of explanation, but his eyes are
just wide and genuine and he looks more vulnerable than Harry’s ever seen him.

“You mean it?” Harry says, voice trembling with emotion.

“Yeah, Harry, of course I mean it,” Louis says earnestly. He swallows, dropping his gaze.
“This might be weird, and you can feel free to tell me to fuck off-”

“Louis, I love you,” Harry cuts him off, almost rushing it. Heart racing, he looks back at the
older boy, who had a disbelieving, almost uncertain smile.

Louis laughs breathlessly, shaking his head. “Seriously?” he asks incredulously.

“Yeah,” Harry laughs, flushed. Louis throws his arms around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him
in tighter, so Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ chest, grinning into his shoulder.

Louis kisses the top of Harry’s head firmly, so Harry reaches up to press his hands to Louis’
cheeks. He kisses him, desperately and ardently, pouring every ‘I love you’ he’s ever wanted
to tell Louis before tonight into it. Louis responds by pulling Harry onto his lap so he’s
straddling his waist, facing him, and when Harry pulls apart he buries his face in Louis’ neck,
pressing a light kiss to his collarbone.

When he lifts his head up to face his boyfriend again, both of them are still wearing giddy,
almost nervous expressions. Cheeks hot, Harry drapes his arms over Louis’ shoulders.,
touching his forehead against Louis’.

“You promise you mean it?” Harry says, softly and timidly. Louis strokes his hair, closing his
eyes.

“Promise,” Louis tells him sincerely.

“Why?” Harry asks, and it’s a genuine question.

“Because…” Louis pauses, biting his lip, “because you’re beautiful, and funny, and lovely,
but it’s not just that, it’s-” Harry watches him through wide, curious eyes as he considers
what else to say. “Before I met you, everything in my life felt rushed, and messy, and like I
was going through it emptily, but over the last few months with you, you brought this calm,
secure feeling to me. And I think that’s ‘cause we’re in love.” Harry screws his eyes shut,
willing himself not to cry. Louis laughs softly, rubbing reassuring circles into his back.

“Did you plan to tell me tonight?” Harry asks him, gaze trained on him.

“No,” Louis laughs, “I wasn’t sure I’d ever be brave enough to tell you, it just felt good right
now, you know?” Harry laughs, closing his eyes.

“What about you?” Louis says suddenly, jerking Harry back to reality. “Why do you love
me?”

Harry takes a breath, trying to decide how to phrase this. “You are so, so amazing,” Harry
tells Louis truthfully, “just as a person, but with you I feel so safe, and protected, and warm
and I- I think that’s love.” He looks back up at Louis almost shyly, and his eyes are filled with
warmth.

“I’m really glad I met you, Harry Styles,” Louis says, voice strained. Harry kisses him again,
soft and lingering not knowing what else to do, how else to tell Louis that he’s the most
 beautiful thing in Harry’s life.

Instead, he drops his head onto Louis’ shoulder and winds his arms around Louis’ neck,
hoping that it says enough.

Chapter End Notes

Wow.....Louis and Harry are so happy......it would be a shame.....if that all changed in the
next chapter........

ANYWAY, I did my research and there is, in fact, a beach an hour away from Doncaster,
in case anyone was wondering.

As always, feel free to leave any questions in my ask or the comments, and reblog the
masterpost and follow me on tumblr if you want!

Thank you all for commenting and leaving kudos, feel free to leave more! ;)
 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes

Hello loves I'm back :)

Thank you Jane for betaing at the last minute, you're the absolute best.

!!!!Read this!!!!!
This chapter contains the usual trigger warnings, but it also contains descriptions
of violence and homophobia that are more than what I've put before. So if you're
triggered by that, please please don't read, and if you still want to just message me
on tumblr and I'll send you a version without that part.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Louis drops Harry off later that same night, he walks him up his stairs to the door,
hesitant to leave him. Harry turns towards him with a soft, almost shy smile, lifting his gaze
so he’s looking at Louis.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” he says quietly, slipping his fingers in between Louis’. Louis
tightens his hold on Harry’s hands, comforting and secure.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice thick and raspy.

“Okay,” Harry says softly, before pressing his lips sweetly against Louis’, hooking his arms
around Louis’s neck. Louis secures Harry by placing his hands on his hips, steadying him.

“I, um, I love you,” Harry says quietly, almost hopefully as he pulls away, looking up
nervously.

“I love you too,” Louis says warmly, brushing a strand of hair out of Harry’s face.

They say it to each other all the time after that.

They text it to each other before bed and they end calls with it; they murmur it to each other
as they pass in the hallways and use it in lieu of a hello or goodbye. Harry giggles it into
Louis’ neck when he hugs him and Louis whispers it to him out of nowhere to make him
smile and blush.

I love you.
Never, in his eighteen years, did Louis ever picture himself being this in love, or in love at
all. Even when he was younger and his idea of a relationship hadn’t yet been tarnished by
watching his mother and Mark’s crumbling marriage, he had never been able to picture an
older version of himself with a significant other. Saying “I love you” had seemed surreal,
something out of one of those movies that Harry was so obsessed with. But this is anything
but; “I love you,” seems like it’s not always enough, like sometimes Harry is too much, too
bright and radiant and gorgeous to be captured by something so simple.

He can settle for it, though.

About a week after their first time saying it, Zayn calls Louis towards the evening. It’s not
quite dark yet, but the sky is fading into a pale orange and Louis can make out the faint
silhouette of the moon.

“Hey, bro,” Louis says, grinning as the answers the phone. There’s shuffling on the other end.

“Hey, man,” he hears Zayn say, “are you doing anything right now?”

Louis glances down at the paper he’s been slaving over for the last several days, which he’s
currently in the process of adding the final touches to. “Nope,” he answers, slamming his
laptop shut, “do you have any ideas?”

“Will you meet me at the skatepark? Like now?” Louis smiles, grabbing his jacket and keys
off of his desk.

“Be there in ten,” he replies, heading downstairs.

“See you,” Zayn says, ending the call. Louis gives his mom a quick wave before pulling open
the door and walking over to where his motorbike is parked, mounting it.

The “skate park” is less of an actual park and more of an empty parking lot hidden behind an
abandoned -and questionably safe- department store. Louis and Zayn discovered it when they
were 15 and 14, accidentally stumbling into it one night when they were walking around the
town. They’ve used it to skate, of course, but it’s also become their ‘place’ so to speak;
before they had friends besides each other, they spent most of their free time there; that was
where they got high for the first time (when they were 15 and 16 and had absolutely no idea
what to do until Zayn finally looked up a video tutorial; they agreed to keep that between the
two of them), Louis came out to Zayn there.

True to his word, Louis pulls up ten minutes later, parking carelessly in the center of the
parking lot. Zayn is already there, leaning against a streetlight. He smirks when he sees
Louis, and Louis smiles as he jogs towards him.

“Hey,” he calls. Zayn greets him with a lazy, warm smile as Louis reaches him, giving him a
quick hug.

“Smoke?” Zayn offers, holding out a cigarette. Louis reaches towards it then hesitates,
remembering the conversation he and Harry had had a few weeks before. Reluctantly, he
shakes his head.
“I kinda told Harry I’d stop,” he explains. Zayn raises his eyebrows, pocketing the cigarette.

“ ‘s good for you, Lou,” he says genuinely. “Although you are so fucking whipped.”

“As if you and Niall are any better,” Louis retorts with a laugh, but he watches sparks fly
from the end of Zayn’s cigarette, dissolving into the air, and his eyes soften.

“I told him I loved him,” Louis says after a moment, glancing at his best friend. Zayn
watches him carefully, surprise and something else that Louis can’t quite place, pride or
happiness, maybe in his eyes.

“Did you mean it?” Zayn asks. Louis nods enthusiastically.

“He said it back,” Louis adds, smiling fondly. Zayn laughs lightly, fixing Louis with a warm
stare.

“Didn’t think I’d see this anytime soon,” Zayn comments, taking a drag. Louis frowns. “I
mean you, with a steady sixteen year old boyfriend who you’re in love with.” Louis snorts.

“If you’d told me six months ago that this would’ve happened, I would’ve laughed,” Louis
says truthfully, “but I mean, I really do love him, Zayn.” He’s not sure if the slight pink on his
cheeks is visible to Zayn, and he hopes it’s hidden well.

Zayn’s eyes are soft and amused as he watches Louis, who clears his throat awkwardly.
“How’re you and your boy, then?”

Zayn grins, lowering his gaze. “We’re good, I mean- we’ve only been dating for like, almost
a month but I dunno,” Zayn pauses, biting his lip, “he’s cool, Louis.”

“I’m still bitter that you never came out to me,” Louis teases, and Zayn shakes his head,
exasperated.

“I told you, I didn’t know I was bi until I met him.” Louis grins, clapping him on the
shoulder.

“All those wasted years we could’ve been friends with benefits,” Louis jokes, and Zayn
bursts out laughing.

“Well, it would depend on your role,” he deadpans. Louis snorts, shaking his head. “C’mon,
gimme the details?”

Louis rolls his eyes, grinning at him. “Are you gonna tell me, then?”

“Niall’s on top,” Zayn says, without a pause. Louis blinks, taken aback. “Go on, then what
about you and Harry?”

Louis hesitates, biting his lip. “We haven’t had sex yet,” he admits, watching Zayn’s reaction.
Zayn nods, rolling the end of the cigarette between his fingers and looking back to Louis.
“I kinda figured you two would’ve,” Zayn tells him, and Louis nods. “Just ‘cause you’ve
been dating for a while, and all that.” Louis bites his lip, gaze still trained on Zayn. “You
guys are really good, Louis, I’m glad you love him.”

Louis huffs out a laugh, smiling. “Yeah, me too,” he says, eyes soft. Zayn drops the butt of
his cigarette, stamping it out, and they’re quiet for a second.

“They’re so great,” Zayn says. Louis glances up. “Harry and Niall and Liam, I mean, not that
I didn’t love only hanging out with you-” Louis snorts, grinning and smacking him lightly on
the arm, “-but I’m glad that we’re all friends now, ya know?”

“Sap,” Louis teases, and Zayn glares jokingly at him. “No, I am too.”

“You’re still my best friend though,” Zayn says after a pause, smirking at Louis. Louis slings
an arm around, resting his chin on Zayn’s shoulder.

“You’re never replacing me,” Louis deadpans. Zayn rolls his eyes fondly, shrugging Louis off
good naturedly.

“Should we get going?” Louis suggests quietly, running his hands through his hair. Zayn nods
absently, falling into step next to Louis as they cross the parking lot.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Zayn says as they reach his car. Louis leans against it,
grinning easily and nodding.

“I’m glad we got to hang out,” Louis says. Zayn grins, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Me too, bro.” Louis gives him a quick hug before stepping into the car and winking at him
as he drives away.

***

On Monday afternoon, Louis rushes up to Harry by his locker. Harry’s face lights up when he
sees him, blushing as Louis kisses him on the cheek.

“Hey, you wanna come over to my place after school?” Louis asks, forgetting a proper
greeting. Harry frowns, leaning against the wall.

“I have to stay after school for extra credit, but I’ll text you afterwards?” Louis shakes his
head, smiling.

“So studious,” Louis teases, and Harry snorts. “But yeah, that sounds good.”

“Alright.” Harry kisses him quickly before shutting his locker and slinging his bag over his
shoulder. “I gotta go.”

“Bye, baby,” Louis says, waving at him as he heads down the hallway. Despite himself,
Harry’s still grinning as he walks into the classroom.
He finishes after half an hour, and he’s walking across the parking lot behind the school when
he suddenly hears voices behind him. Heart racing, he turns around, and he’s hit with cold,
sudden fear when he sees.

“Well, look who it is,” Chris says mockingly. Panic rises in Harry’s chest as he realizes
there’s no one else here besides the three of them, and he’s trapped. Chris strides over to him,
backing him into the wall.

“You know, Harry, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you,” he says coldly, smirking. “Where’s
your boyfriend now?” Harry bites his lip, trembling.

“He isn’t here, so we’re gonna have some fun. You aren’t gonna do anything,” Chris hisses,
“and you aren’t gonna whisper a word of this to your boyfriend, you got it?” Harry lets out a
strangled, desperate gasp pleadingly, squirming in vain against him. Chris laughs, harsh and
obnoxious, before slamming him against the wall.

From then it’s a blur what happens; all Harry knows is that there’s shouting everything is
spinning, jerking around. Someone is holding his arms and someone is hitting him, and pain
is everywhere, and he thinks he might be begging for them to stop but he isn’t sure. All he
knows is that he doesn’t try to stop it, he just lets them have their fun and wishes, desperately
and in terror, for it to be over.

There are different moments of consciousness, and at one point he realizes he’s not standing
anymore, but he’s collapsed onto his knees. The next thing he can identify is a sharp, hard
pain on his forehead, and then a couple of kicks to his chest.

“Chris, Chris stop!” one of the other guys is shouting, and the words bounce around on the
inside of his head. “You’re gonna kill him, man, let’s get out of here before someone shows
up!” And the next thing Harry knows is that there’s a heavy thud and a scuffle of feet and
then silence, except for his own broken whimpers.

With every ounce of strength he has, Harry pushes himself up, shaking uncontrollably.
Without thinking, he fumbles for his phone, dialing Louis’ number before he can consider his
plan.

“Hey, baby!” Louis says cheerfully, and suddenly Harry panics, a sob escaping his throat.
“Hey, are you crying?”

“I, um-” Harry breaks off into tears, head pounding. Vaguely, he realizes that there’s blood
running down the side of his face.

“Harry, where are you?” Louis says seriously, concerned.

“B-behind the school,” Harry croaks out, shutting his eyes. “Could you come?”

“Okay, okay, I’m on my way, love,” Louis rushes, “what’s going on, baby, are you okay?”

Everything around him is spinning, fading into black, and Harry feels sick. “Everything hurts
so much, Louis,” he hears himself say.
“Oh, god, Harry what happened? Stay on the phone, I’m coming.” Louis’ voice is somewhere
in the distance, but Harry can’t reach it, and that’s the last thing he hears before everything
goes black.
***

On his way to the school, Louis breaks about every driving law that he can think of. He also
could not care less. Absolute panic has seized him as he thinks of Harry, alone and in pain
from God knows what and terrified.

Louis presses a little harder on the gas pedal.

All he can do is wonder what happened, how he’s been hurt and if he’ll be okay. He realizes
he’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, but he doesn’t
think he’ll be able to stop.

He reaches the school in five minutes, but it feels endless. He pulls into the parking lot and
stumbles out of the car, not bothering to lock the door.

Behind the school. Heart racing, Louis races past the main building towards the back, breath
hitching when he spots Harry.

He’s collapsed on the ground, body crumpled lifelessly. Louis inhales sharply in a horrified
gasp as he scrambles towards him, sinking to his knees when he reaches him.

“Harry say something, wake up, Harry!” he whispers desperately, hysterically. To his intense
relief, Harry’s breathing, partially conscious, so Louis reaches forward ever so cautiously to
get a better look at him.

Louis brushes his hair out of his face where it was mussed, flinching as he see’s the damage.
Half of Harry’s face is covered in blood, all the result of a long cut above his eyebrow.

Hands shaking, Louis pulls out his phone to call 999. He doesn’t realize how much he’s
trembling until someone answers on the other line.

“Hello, how can we help you?” a woman’s voice says cooly.

“I, um, my boyfriend’s hurt,” Louis answers unsteadily.

“How is he hurt?” the woman replies calmly.

“Somebody attacked him,” Louis replies, his voice wrecked. “He’s unconscious, and he’s
bleeding pretty badly-”

“Is he breathing?” she asks, slightly more concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis rushes, “But he’s really hurt.” His voice wavers, breaking at the end.

“Alright, we’re sending an ambulance now.” Louis swallows.

“Okay,” he whispers, ending the call. He reaches over to gently shake Harry’s shoulder,
willing him to wake up, to show some kind of reaction. He shifts slightly, body shuddering,
and Louis doesn’t know what to do. He chokes back a sob as he squeezes his boyfriend’s
shoulder, body gripped with fear.

To the hospitals credit, they arrive less than five minutes later. Louis can’t do anything but
watch as they sling him over the carrier and lift it into the ambulance, not giving Louis the
slightest acknowledgment besides asking for Harry’s name until they turn to re enter the car.

“You riding with us?” A tired looking woman says. Startled, Louis shakes his head.

“I have a car.” She nods briefly, turning to step inside. “Wait, will he be okay?”

She looks back at him, eyes soft. “I mean, he could be worse, he’s unconscious and he’ll need
stitches, and there’s a chance of a concussion, but he will be okay.” Louis nods, swallowing a
sob rising in his throat. She gives him a sympathetic look before turning away and starting
the car.

The drive to the hospital feels surreal. The sirens are overwhelming and certainly aren’t
helping the pounding headache he has, and it’s difficult to drive while having to constantly
blink back tears, but somehow he makes it.

(It’s because Harry needs him, and he knows that he would make it anywhere to be there
when Harry needed him.)

He arrives after they’ve already taken Harry in, which he’s partially grateful for. He doesn’t
know if he could handle having to see him like that again without breaking down.
Regardless, he had nothing to focus on as he enters the hospital, staring blankly ahead of him.

“Um, excuse me,” Louis says hoarsely as he approaches the front desk. The receptionist
looks up through pitying eyes. “Where can I find Harry Styles?”

She glances down, flipping through a list until she spots him. “He’s in room 124, but unless
you’re family we can’t allow you in, I’m sorry.” Louis takes a sharp breath, gritting his teeth.

“Alright, thank you,” he says shortly, turning to find the waiting room.

In his experience, hospital waiting rooms are very possibly the drabbest, most miserable
places that Louis has ever had the misfortune of having to go to. This one is no exception.
There’s a woman across from him sobbing, her face in her hands, and a man pacing back and
forth and there’s Louis, gripping onto the side of a worn couch as he tries not to break.

It crosses his mind that he needs to call Anne, and he almost wishes he hadn’t remembered.
Never, in a million years had he imagined having to have a conversation with his boyfriend’s
mother to tell him that her son is in the hospital after a brutal hate crime. He screws his eyes
shut, trying to decide the best way to phrase this sensitively. Finally, after coming to the
conclusion that there is no way to make this okay, but that she needs to know, he steps out of
the waiting room and pulls out his phone, selecting her number with trembling hands.
She picks up on the third ring. “Louis?” she says, surprised. “Is everything alright?”

Louis shuts his eyes, coughing. “Hi, Anne,” he says carefully. “I, um- everything isn’t alright,
some guys at school hurt Harry really badly and we’re in the hospital-” Well, that went
smoothly, “-and he’s- he’s gonna be okay, but he’s gonna be shaken and I just had to let you
know-”

“Louis, slow down,” Anne says, panic in her voice, “who hurt him? How?”

“I don’t know yet, but some guys from out school beat him up.” Louis chokes out a dry sob.
“I’m so sorry, Anne.”

“I’m on my way, where are you?” He can hear hysteria in her voice, and Louis is hit with a
wave of guilt.

“Methodist hospital.”

“Oh, god, I’ll be there in about forty minutes.”

“Okay,” Louis whispers hoarsely.

“Louis, this isn’t your fault, okay?” she says tearfully. Louis squeezes his eyes shut.

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thank you for telling me.” Her voice is destroyed, full of heartbreak, and Louis is in
pain all over again.

“Of course,” Louis says softly. She ends the call and he drops his face in his hands before re
entering the waiting room.

Some guys from our school. Ha. As if Louis didn’t know exactly who did this, as if he
weren’t already planning what he was going to do to them as soon as he found them.

And that’s how he spends the next hour (or maybe it’s ten minutes, he doesn’t know);
picturing all the vicious, brutal things he was going to do to Chris the next day. It’s satisfying
in some sick, twisted way, but it shatters the second that a nurse enters the room.

“Is Louis Tomlinson here?”

Heart in his throat, Louis stands up and strides towards her frantically. The nurse looks
slightly alarmed when she sees him, but she covers it up easily, clearing her throat and
straightening up.

“You’re here for Harry Styles? Louis Tomlinson?” she says, emotionless. Louis nods
desperately.

“He’s… he’s okay, right?” Louis says, voice barely above a whisper. When she nods shortly,
Louis’ goes weak with relief.
“We usually only allow family, but he asked for me to let you in,” she says, and Louis nods,
gesturing impatiently past her. “He said that you weren’t the one who put him in here, and
we’re choosing to believe him, correct?”

Louis stares at her, appalled and horrified and the implication that he would hit Harry. “I- no
of course not,” he says hoarsely, “Where do I go?” The nurse points down the hallway.

“Third door on the left,” she tells him, and Louis all but sprints towards him. As he pushes
open the door, he realizes his hands are trembling - with anger or worry or desperation, he
isn’t sure. Probably all.

He takes a breath before entering, suddenly scared. When he sees Harry he has to choke back
a gasp - he’s propped up on the bed, curls mussed and frame small, curled in on himself.
Bruises are scattered across his face, some worse than others, and his eyebrow is stitched
closed. Louis takes a shaky, uneven breath.

“Hazza,” he croaks out, and Harry looks up. Louis thinks his expression might be the worst
of all; his eyes are glassy and empty, and he looks exhausted.

Harry can’t even get a word out before he breaks; his face crumbles into a sob, chest heaving,
and in a second Louis is across the room, on the edge of the bed, pulling him into his arms.
Harry buries his face in his chest, shoulders shaking as he cries, and Louis doesn’t know what
to say. Instead, he draws him tighter, rocking him and stroking his hair and whispering things
like “It’s gonna be okay,” and “I love you,” and “I’m so sorry,” but he knows it’s not enough,
that it can’t possibly be enough.

Harry pulls away after a few minutes of this, eyes screwed shut and face streaked with tears.
Louis forces himself to keep his expression neutral, but Harry’s never looked so vulnerable or
small, and it’s hard for him to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m so sorry Louis,” is the first thing out of his mouth, in a broken sob, and Louis stares at
him.

“Harry, Hazza, no,” Louis says, as gently as he can, “you didn’t do anything, sweetheart.”
Harry shakes his head, dissolving into tears again, so Louis reaches out to hold him again.

“You don’t have to- you can go, if you have to do something-” Louis opens his mouth, unsure
of how to even react.

“You think I’m gonna leave you? Right now?” It comes out more sharply than he intended
and Harry winces, and Louis curses himself. “Baby, I just mean- there’s no way I’m leaving
you alone right now.” Harry nods, too tired to argue, and he leans into Louis again.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis says softly, rubbing Harry’s back gently. “God, baby, I should’ve-” he
trails off, because he doesn’t know what he should’ve done; been there for him faster? Done
a better job at protecting him? Instead of finishing the sentence, Louis shuts his eyes and
kisses the top of his head gently.
“Chris?” Louis whispers after a moment, voice trembling with anger. Harry nods quickly,
tensing in Louis’ arms, and even though he knew it was coming, Louis still feels another
surge of rage.

“Anyone else?” Louis asks, in a low, dangerous voice.

“Um, two other guys, Oli and Calvin, I think, but it was mostly him,” Harry mumbles, voice
trembling.

“I’m going to kill them,” Louis says darkly, and Harry scrambles to look up at him, shaking
his head desperately.

“Louis, Louis, you can’t, please-” Harry says, eyes filled with sadness and fear. Louis
swallows, taking a sharp breath as he stares at Harry, who looks so small and vulnerable in
his arms.

“Harry, love-” Louis bites his lip, “okay, okay, I won’t do anything, baby,” he says
reluctantly, defeated momentarily. Harry sinks back against his chest, shaking again.

“What did they do to you, sweetheart?” Louis whispers, rubbing gentle circles over Harry’s
back. Harry takes a strangled gasp, chest heaving in dry sobs.

“It, um-” Harry breaks off in tears, so Louis pulls him closer, pressing a gentle, soothing kiss
to the top of his head. “They, um, just kinda, showed up and um, took turns, like, holding my
arms while the others-” Louis shuts his eyes, shaking with anger and fear as Harry sobs
breathlessly into his shoulder.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, it’s all gonna be okay, I’ve got you.” He doesn’t know what else
to do, what you can say when the person you’re in love with is breaking down like this in
your arms. “You’re safe, love, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I was so- so stupid, Louis, I couldn’t do anything-”

“Shh, shh, baby, there were three of them. And they were horrible, this isn’t your fault,”
Louis says firmly, running his hand lightly up Harry’s back. Harry stays quiet.

“I called your mum,” Louis tells him. Harry looks up, eyes filled with panic.

“What did you say?” he asks, voice quivering.

“I just told her that you were attacked by some guys from school.” Harry shuts his eyes,
biting his lip. “Harry, you know I had to tell her something.”

“She’s gonna be so upset,” Harry whispers, and his voice is full of guilt. Louis tucks a strand
of hair behind his ears, brushing his fingers lightly across Harry’s cheek.

“Well, she’s gonna be worried babe,” Louis says gently. “She has a reason to be.” Harry
swallows.
“Please, don’t tell her that they’ve done, you know, stuff like this before,” Harry says
suddenly, gripping Louis’ arm. Louis hesitates, biting his lip. “Please, Louis, she’ll just be
upset, I don’t want to make her feel even worse,” he pleads. Tears are pooling in his eyes
again, and Louis is heartbroken as he stares down at him.

“Hazza,” Louis says carefully, “I’m not going to tell her but baby, I really, really think you
should, you need help here Harry.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Harry says flatly, but all harshness disappears a moment
later when he sinks against Louis, trembling again. “Please,” he adds desperately.

“Alright, love we don’t have to,” Louis says softly, pulling him closer to stroke his hair.
Harry closes his eyes, leaning against him and letting Louis hold him, rocking him back and
forth slightly.

And that’s how Anne finds them, with Harry folded in Louis’ arms. When she enters,
throwing her arms tearfully around Harry and demanding to know what happened, Louis
attempts to give them privacy until Harry squeezes his hand, begging him to stay so he does,
sitting back down quietly.

“It was just these three guys from school, I barely knew them, it wasn’t a big deal,” he
mumbles, voice slightly higher than usual. His eyes are glassy and he’s gripping Louis’ hand
too tightly for it to be nothing, but Louis keeps his mouth shut.

“Harry,” Anne whispers, “I’m pressing charges, they have to be expelled.” Harry must be too
exhausted to argue, because he just nods and sinks against the headboard.

“I signed you out, do you want to go home?” she asks gently. Harry nods, and Louis wraps an
arm around him, warm and protective, as they walk out of the building.
Anne thanks him profusely in the parking lot, and then leaves him and Harry for a moment.
Louis wraps his arms around Harry and Harry buries his face in Louis’ shoulder, tightening
his arms around Louis’ stomach.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Louis asks quietly. Harry nods, biting his lip.

“I love you so much, Hazza,” Louis adds softly, even though it isn’t enough. “Call me if you
need anything at all, all right?” Harry nods again, and Louis turns sadly to leave.

“Wait!” Harry calls quietly, grabbing his hand. “Thank you so, so much, Louis, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for anything, Harry,” Louis says firmly, turning back to him.

“I love you,” Harry says, barely audible. Louis kisses him ever so gently, careful to avoid
anywhere that might be bruised.

“I love you too, baby, now get some rest, alright?” Harry nods a third time before opening his
car door.

Louis watches them drive away, heartbroken and guilty, and unsure of how to help.
***
When Anne pulls the car up to the house, Harry steps out without a word, entering the house
silently. He can feel her eyes on him, heartbroken and worried, and he knows that if he tries
to talk he’ll make it infinitely worse.

“I’m gonna go up to bed,” he mumbles, not looking at her. She nods, taking a sharp breath.

“Baby, do you promise you’re okay?” she says gently, almost tearfully. Harry nods,
swallowing thickly and forcing himself to meet her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry tells her. His voice is steady, but his hands are shaking
uncontrollably, so he thrusts them into the pocket of his jumper.

“Okay, love,” she says softly, “you aren’t going to school tomorrow, okay?” Harry nods,
relieved. Anne wraps her arms around him and Harry lets her, leaning into the hug like he’s a
child again.

“Harry, what are their names?” Anne asks cautiously. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, willing
himself not to cry again.

“Um, Chris Coleman?” he whispers quietly. His mother nods, biting her lip, and Harry turns
away.

“I love you,” she says, as he begins to head upstairs. Harry swallows thickly, thankful for the
darkness.

“Love you too, mum,” he says in a fragile voice as he heads upstairs. By the time he’s in his
room he’s helpless, not bothering to turn on the lights before grasping desperately at his
drawers, seizing the razors. Harry collapses, limply and pathetically to the ground, tearing off
his sweater almost frantically, striking the razor so desperately and quickly against his skin
that he almost doesn’t feel it until blood rises to his skin, the horrible, beautiful sharp pain
hitting him like a wave of relief.

He doesn’t stop at his first, or second, and before he knows it both his wrists and thighs are
stained red. With nothing else to distract him, Harry breaks down, wrapping his arms around
his stomach and sobbing so hard he can’t breath, so hard that lights pop behind his eyes and
the colors of his room blur into each other as it spins around.

He was so stupid, so fucking naive to let himself believe for even a second that things could
get better, that he could be anything other than worthless and pathetic and disgusting. He’s
broken, torn apart so severely that he’ll never, ever be strong enough to try to put himself
back together. This was a cruel, harsh reality check; he can’t take care of himself and he
deserves this, he deserves this pain.

If he were a less selfish person, he would break up with Louis. He’d make it easier on him,
relieving him of his needy, unstable, boyfriend and his endless list of problems that Louis has
now been dragged into.

But he is selfish, and he needs Louis more than he thought was possible. Half of him wants
Louis to do it himself; end it quickly, like ripping off a bandaid.
But the other half of him is clinging, needily and desperately, to Louis and everything good
he’s brought into Harry’s life. The other half of him is allowing himself this small, temporary
escape from reality as if there’s a chance it could last.

Harry shudders with another dry, broken sob, standing up unsteadily and stepping into his
bathroom, turning the shower onto the hottest temperature and stepping in. From fatigue, or
pain, maybe, he sinks to his knees, staring emptily at the tiles as water pours over him,
flushing away the blood but he still doesn’t feel clean enough, he still wants to tear off his
own skin.

When he falls into bed that night, he can’t even find the energy to cry. He curls in on himself,
shaking and hyperventilating and wishing to disappear, wishing for the world to take pity on
him and end it.

It doesn’t, though, and he’s still suffocating by his own misery when he finally falls into a
restless sleep.
***

“Louis?” Liam answers on the second ring. “Is Harry with you, he was supposed to meet me
and Ni-”

“Um, after school, Harry was leaving and Chris and some of those guys, um-” Louis
swallows thickly, gripping the doorknob, “they hurt him, really badly, and he- he was in the
hospital, and now he’s home but-” Louis breaks off, raking his fingers through his hair. Liam
is silent, but Louis can hear shallow, quick breaths.

“I’m going to kill him,” Liam finally says darkly.

“Not if I kill him first,” Louis answers bitterly, gritting his teeth. “I just- I don’t understand
how they could do this to him.”

“Because they’re fucking evil,” Liam says, voice unsteady. Louis takes a sharp breath,
dropping his face into his hands.

“Do you want me to tell Ni and Zayn and Soph?” Liam asks softly, voice full of sadness.

“Yeah, please,” Louis says, exhausted.

“Does he know you told me?” Liam asks softly.

“Yeah, he told me I could,” Louis answers sadly. “I just- oh god, Liam, he doesn’t deserve
this.”

“I know,” Liam whispers. They’re both quiet for a moment, buried in their own distress and
anger, before Liam speaks up again.

“I guess I should tell them,” Liam says finally. Louis bites his lip.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis says emptily, running his hand through his hair.
 “Bye, Louis,” Liam says quietly. When he ends the call, Louis drops his phone heavily on the
bed and buries his face in his hands, tears pricking the back of his eyes.

And then he’s crying, shoulders shaking with anger and worry and fear at the thought Harry,
of all people, the most wonderful and gentle person he’s ever met having to go through this.
Louis feels sick at at the image of Harry confronted with Chris and Oli and Calvin, unable to
fight them and having to take the abuse like that.
He doesn’t sleep that night; instead, he runs through every horrible, vicious thing he’s going
to do to the three of them the next day. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

Chapter End Notes

Hope you guys don't all hate me now.

The comments and kudos are wonderful, I love you all so much, keep them coming!

As always, Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want, and feel free to
ask me questions! :)
 Chapter 15
Chapter Notes

I feel so accomplished when I update two weeks in a row :')

Thanks as always Jane for all your help.

Trigger warning: there isn't anything too unusual in this chapter except for a bit of
violence, but it's brief and directed towards someone who deserves it. HOWEVER, if
you're in any way uncomfortable with that, please let me know and I'll send you a
version without it.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Louis wakes up that morning, he has nothing on his mind but what he’s going to do to
Chris. It’s scary how much it consumes him; he’s not a violent person, really, but he doesn’t
think he’s stopped fantasizing about beating the shit out of him since the night before so
between that, and the overwhelming, panicked worry for Harry, it’s not one of his better
mornings.

When he arrives at school he knows he looks like hell- his hair is a mess and dark, prominent
circles stand out underneath his eyes. Besides that, his face is gaunt and harsh with stress and
resentment, so when he traipses across the parking lot to the entrance, he gets more than a
few stares.

As he expected, Niall, Liam, Zayn, and Sophia are waiting for him, all of them looking
equally as exhausted and devastated. Zayn stands up straighter with alarm as Louis
approaches, prodding Niall, who’s resting his head against his shoulder. All of them stare
expectantly, waiting for a reaction from him.

“Where is he?” is the first thing Louis says. It comes out low and dangerous and unsteady,
and it’s kind of scary to hear in his own voice.

Zayn scrubs a hand over his face, biting his lip. “Lou, I know you wanna rip him apart and
we all do, but just think for a minute-”

“No!” Louis snarls, almost hysterically, and all of them jump at the harshness of it. “I warned
him.”

“Louis,” Niall says carefully, “you could be suspended-”

“I don’t give a fuck, Niall! You didn’t- you didn’t see Harry last night, you don’t know how
badly they hurt him.” Louis’ voice trembles with rage and pain. Niall sighs, looking at him
sadly.

“Louis,” Sophia says quietly, “It’s just gonna make it worse.” Louis grits his teeth, burying
his face in his hands in frustration.

“Why Harry?” he says softly, voice strained. All four of them stare back at him with
heartbroken expressions.

“Because they know that he’s not gonna fight them,” Liam says flatly, a quiet rage behind his
voice. Louis can tell by the tension in his shoulders, the coldness behind his eyes that he’s
just as desperate to tear Chris to pieces as Louis is.

“I saw him this morning,” Niall mumbles. Louis snaps his head up. “He was walking towards
his locker, he looked pretty cocky.” Louis inhales sharply, fingers tightening into fists.

“Alright, I’ll see you later then,” he says, voice unsteady with hatred and anticipation. He
turns to stride inside, and Niall looks up, panicked.

“Louis that’s not what I meant-” But Louis’ already on his way down the hallway in a frantic,
aggressive pace, fingers curled into tight fists at his side.

“Louis!” he turns momentarily in irritation to see Liam, rushing towards him. “I know you
want to kill him and you know I do too, but just think for a minute-”

But Louis’ stopped listening because he can see Chris now, leaning smugly against the wall
as he tells an animated story to a group of friends. Liam follows his gaze and when he spots
them, he puts a hand lightly on Louis’ arm.

“I would get away right now if I were you, Liam,” Louis says quietly, jerking his arm out of
Liam’s grasp. Before Liam can talk him out out of it he takes a few steps towards them,
shoving through a few people around him so he’s facing Chris.

The voices fade, and other people have turned to see what’s going on. Louis stares at him
icily, every muscle in his body stiff. Chris holds his gaze, tensing up slightly.

“I warned you,” Louis says in a low voice, so no one else can hear. “I told you to leave him
alone.” Chris doesn’t answer right away; he takes a breath, visibly nervous, eyes darting
around.

“What are you gonna do?” he responds finally, smirking ever so slightly. “You don’t scare
me, Tomlinson, we’re in the middle of a crowded hallway.” Louis’ scowl darkens. “You’re
just as much of a fag as he is, just a little less obvious about-”

He doesn’t get to finish, though, because Louis punches him in the jaw.

Louis has punched exactly one other person in his life; it was about two years ago, when
some eighteen year old had been harassing Lottie and even after multiple warnings, he hadn’t
relented. This guy had been half drunk and three inches shorter than Louis, so he’d left
immediately with a bleeding nose and a promise that if he ever bothered her again he’d deal
with much worse from Louis.

This is different. This is much less calculated and probably much more fueled by hatred.
Louis realizes he’s forgotten so many things - how hard it is to aim and how much the blow is
reflected on your hand. He strikes him on the jaw, catching him off guard and knocking him
off balance. That’s the only motivation he needs, though- Louis hits him again, and then
grabs him by the shoulders and throws him against the lockers, forcing the other students to
scatter.

Chris regains balance, and Louis is satisfied to see obvious fear written all over his face.
Wildly, he swings his arm and catches Louis on the cheek, raking his nails across it. Louis, in
return, shoves him into the wall, mistakenly crashing his own face into a row of lockers as a
result of losing balance.

“What the hell?” someone shouts, and then he’s shoved a few feet backwards. When his
vision clears he realizes it’s Coach Alvarez, looking between the two of them in astonishment
and annoyance. “What do you two think you’re doing? Tomlinson, I thought you were more
mature than this.” Louis glares past him, exhaling. Blood is running down Chris’ mouth and
his face is contorted in pain and humiliation but it’s not enough. Louis’ eye is still stinging
from the impact of the locker (it’s going to bruise, for sure), and he knows that his cheek is
bleeding but other than that he managed to get out of it relatively safely.

“Both of you, come with me,” Alvarez snaps, gesturing for them to follow him. He paces up
the hallway ahead of them, not looking behind.

Louis casts a look at the crowd behind them and he spots Liam, staring at them with
astonishment.

Chris and Louis exchange a few dark looks until they’re led into a crammed, uncomfortable
room that Louis realizes is the lobby of the headmaster’s office.

“Sit,” Alvarez says shortly, so they do. The room is extremely tense; Chris and Louis sit
stiffly next to each other, neither one looking at the other. Alvarez steps briefly into the
office, and Louis can hear a mumbled exchange between him and the principal but he’s too
fervid to care. He rakes his eyes quickly over Chris and is morbidly satisfied to see that
there’s blood streaked across his face, intense bruises already forming over his eye.

Alvarez returns, staring grimly at them. He paces a few steps and then stops in front of them,
crossing his arms and glaring down at them.

“What the hell was that?” he shouts finally. Chris scowls at the ground but Louis stares up at
him, eyes full of coldness and jaw tight.

“Tomlinson started it-” Chris begins bitterly, but Louis barks out a cold laugh and turns to
stare at him.

“You started it last night when you assaulted Harry,” he snarls, digging his nails into the arm
of his seat. Chris exhales sharply, eyes narrowed in anger and panic, and Louis holds his gaze
icily.

Alvarez looks between the two of them, bewildered. “I have no idea what you’re talking
about but this is between you two, and your families, who have just been alerted.” Louis’
stomach drops at the idea of his mom or Mark coming, but he doesn’t let his sudden terror
show. “Who started the fight today, in the hallway?”

“I did,” Louis says flatly, jaw slack. Alvarez narrows his eyes, unimpressed and astonished,
and Louis returns his gaze.

“Care to explain yourself, Tomlinson? Because in all my years of being your coach I’ve
never seen either of you act like that.” Louis tightens his lips, expressionless.

“Well, yesterday Coleman attacked my boyfriend, after he had been warned not too, so I
followed through on my threat,” Louis deadpans, raising his eyebrows. “I think you should
be punishing him for that, not focusing on me, Coach,” he adds mockingly. Alvarez stares at
him in disbelief.

“Tomlinson-” he grits his teeth, lips pursed, “-you and I both know I’m not in charge of
punishments here. Coleman, is that true?”

“Coach, there’s no evidence that anyone, including Tomlinson or Styles can offer, to prove
that I did anything to his boyfriend,” Chris stated haughtily, smirking at Louis. Alvarez
shakes his head in disgust, thrusting a wad of tissues at him which he takes, bringing up to his
face.

“There’s security footage,” Louis invents wildly, and Chris’ face darkens.

“Even if they could, you don’t know anything about the reasons for-” Whatever excuse he
was coming up with is cut off as Alvarez huffs in distaste.

“Coleman, shut up; if you really did jump this kid then you’re in huge trouble.” Chris pales
slightly, and Louis barks out a humorless laugh. “Tomlinson, that doesn’t give you an excuse
to cause a scene in the hallway.”

Louis glances down bitterly, ignoring the two pairs of eyes burning into him. When he looks
up, he’s met with a long, almost disappointed look from Alvarez. He holds his gaze icily for a
long, tense, moment until Alvarez finally looks away.

“Your parents will be here soon,” he says shortly, “until then, stay out of trouble.” With that,
he turns and walks back into the office, leaving Louis and Chris in a taut silence.

Louis doesn’t look at him again; instead, he considers the severity of the situation he’s in for
the first time. He’s not worried about punishment- a suspension or detention doesn’t scare
him, he doesn’t care enough for that. It’s the fact that his mother and stepfather are on their
way to the school right now, and there’s a very good chance he’s about to be outed to them
and oh, god, he can’t do that. He can’t be thrown out of his house; even with his family
falling apart and Mark treating him terribly and having to sneak around everyone in order to
date Harry, he has nothing else. He’s not smart or strong or successful enough to exist on his
own right now, and he can’t lose this, he can’t.

He’s jerked from his worries when the door bursts open to reveal a man and woman who can
only be Chris’ parents. His mother gasps as she lays eyes on her son, and his father looks in
bewilderment between the two boys.

“Chris, what happened?” his mother cries, touching his cheek, and Louis can’t repress an eye
roll. Before he has to endure anything else, the office door swings open and their principal,
Mr. Wooton, is standing there.

Louis fixes him with a cold look as he looks him over- Wooton is potentially one of the most
insufferable people he’s ever met. Short and pasty looking, with a receding hairline and
unshaved stubble and constant fake smile, he gives off the impression of a man desperate for
importance and attention. He casts Louis an unimpressed look before turning back to Chris’
parents.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Coleman, I see you two were already on your way over here because of
my first call.” Louis wonders briefly if the ‘first call’ had anything to do with Harry, and he
watches carefully as Mrs. Coleman nods shortly. “Well, these two events may have
something in common, so why don’t we just wait for Mr. Tomlinson’s family before we get
started? You can all come in, of course.” The three of them file in, and Louis stays seated
until Wooton gestures impatiently for him to enter. Louis throws him a dark look before
standing up and striding inside, sitting down in the chair furthest from the Colemans.

“We’re just going to wait for Mrs. Tomlinson, then,” Wooton drabbles on absently. As if on
cue, the door bursts open all of a sudden, and Louis’ mum is standing there, eyes wide and
confused. Louis relaxes ever so slightly when he sees that she’s alone, that he won’t have to
endure this with Mark here.

“Mrs. Tomlinson,” Wooton says uncomfortably, “have a seat.” She doesn’t take her eyes off
of Louis until she sits down, turning to stare at Chris’ parents. Louis feels bad, he really does;
she doesn’t deserve to have to deal with her son’s school authorities when she already has so
much on her plate.

“Mrs. Tomlinson, we’ve called you here because Louis has gotten into a bit of, ehm, a
struggle with Mr. Cole here.” Jay stares between the two of them, appalled.

“Louis, is this true?” Louis stares blankly down, silently confirming her question. “What
happened?”

“Well, from what we can gather, Mr. Tomlinson started the fight and Mr. Coleman fought
back, quite aggressively, and…” Wooton trails off, gesturing to the two families, and Louis
stares at him with disgust.

“Louis, why did this happen?” Louis flinches at the disappointment in his mother’s eyes,
averting his gaze.
“I believe it was because Mr. Coleman had a run in with a friend of Louis’ yesterday,”
Wooton states, eager to seem informed. “And so he took it upon himself to -well- defend
them, so to speak.” Louis fixes his gaze stoically on the ground, praying for them to move on,
so he wouldn’t have to lie to his mother.

“What friend?” Jay presses anxiously, and fuck. Louis coughs, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Harry Styles, I believe,” Wooton says, and Louis wasn’t sure he could hate him any more
but that did it. Jo frowns, turning back to Louis.

“Harry? What happened to him?” Louis huffs out an empty laugh, turning to stare at Chris,
who’s looking coldly and seriously at Louis.

“It wasn’t just your friend, though, Louis,” Chris drawls, and panic rises in Louis’ chest as he
widens his eyes desperately. “He’s angry because apparently I attacked his boyfriend.” Heart
pounding, Louis looks anxiously at his mother.

She’s staring at him, her eyes soft and confused and so, so sad. Louis fixes her with a
pleading look, for what he isn’t sure; Please don’t kick me out? Please don’t hate me?

“Is that true, Louis?” she asks quietly.

“I, um, mom-” Louis stammers, but he’s cut off by Wooton tapping impatiently on his desk.

“Anyway, we were already dealing with Chris’ punishment when Mr. Tomlinson decided to
take matters into his own hands.” Louis glowers at him, but his mind is racing and he can’t
focus on what else is being said. “So, Mr. Tomlinson is going to face a week suspension, and
Mr. Coleman is going to face two weeks, starting today.”

“Are you serious?” Louis says suddenly, snapping his head up. “Two weeks? That was a hate
crime, and you’re giving him two weeks?” He’s livid all of a sudden, absolutely outraged at
the thought that Chris is getting away with this.

“Mr. Tomlinson, please, this has already been dealt with regarding Mr. Styles, and it doesn’t
involve you. There are only five weeks left in the year, I’m sure everyone will be more than
okay with this conclusion.” Louis grits his teeth, turning from Wooton to Chris. He’s smug,
leaning back in his seat satisfactorily, and it takes every ounce of self control that Louis has
not to punch him again.

“Thank you, Mr. Wooton,” Jay says, with a tone of finality as she stands up. “Louis, let's go.”
Louis stares around in astonishment once more before standing up, casting a glare on
everyone else around him before following his mother out.

He doesn’t even have any more time to regard Chris because now because all the air has been
sucked from his lungs as he anticipates the conversation he’s about to have with his mother.
Once they get outside, she turns to him, sadness and shock written all over her face.

“Lou, is Harry your boyfriend?” she finally says softly, staring at him. Louis swallows
thickly, eyes pleading for her to understand.
“Y-yeah, he is,” Louis says, closing his eyes. “Mum, please-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she bursts out, touching his shoulder. Louis blinks, trying to
comprehend what’s happening.

“Because I thought- because you said to Mark that you would throw one of us out if we were
gay,” he says hoarsely, crossing his arms over his chest. Tears well in his mother’s eyes as she
stares at him, shaking her head.

“Oh, baby, no, I just- your father and I may… disagree but- oh, god, Louis I would never-”
she throws her arms around him, and Louis hugs her back in astonishment. “I love you,
sweetie, no matter what.” Louis closes his eyes, swallowing a sob of relief. His mom loves
him. She loves him, and she accepts him, and he’s not getting kicked out. Oh, god.

“I can’t tell Mark,” Jay says quietly, swiping at her eyes. “He’s a good man, but not on this
topic, he- we’ll just keep this quiet.” Louis nods, a dull relief settling in his stomach.

“Do the girls know?”

“Lottie does, but no one else. And um, Zayn and some of my other friends know.” She nods
thoughtfully, staring at him.

“What did that boy do to Harry?” Louis’ eyes flash.

“Attacked him because he’s a homophobic asshole.” Jo brings a hand up to her mouth in
horror.

“Oh, poor child- not that I think you should’ve fought with him, but…” she trails off,
brushing her hair out of her face. “Oh, Lou, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mum,” Louis says, voice fraught with emotion. She squeezes his hand.

“Mum, um, can I go see him? I just wanna make sure that Harry’s okay.” Jo gives him a
knowing, gentle smile.

“You can go, after you come home and tell me everything about your boyfriend, and about
when you knew that you liked boys, and just- everything, Lou, everything that I missed.”
Louis huffs out a laugh, nodding. Jo smiles, pulling him into a hug again, and Louis can’t
suppress a grin as he leans into it.

***
Harry’s mother leaves that morning after asking him at least a dozen times if he’s going to be
okay alone. He assures her that he’s fine, promises her that he’ll eat and take care of himself
and call if he needs anything else, and then as soon as she leaves he buries his face in his
pillow and wishes for everything to end.

He doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed for most of the morning; he spends it somewhere
between consciousness and sleep, unable to distinguish the difference. He hurts everywhere-
he’s still sore and his wrists are stinging painfully from the night before, but he can’t find the
energy to move. He doesn’t plan to, either, until, he hears the doorbell ring at some point.
Groaning, Harry pushes himself up. He looks awful- his hair is tousled everywhere and he’s
wrapped in an oversized sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants, not to mention that he probably
looks pale and exhausted and is still displaying bruises all over his face- but he doesn’t bother
trying to fix his appearance.

He pulls the door open and is shocked to see Louis. As he looks him over, the shock turns to
cold dread and Harry gasps.

“What did you do?” Harry says softly, bringing a hand up to his mouth in horror. There’s a
thin cut stretching across his cheek and he has a black eye, complete with a few smaller
bruises dotted around it. Louis winces, rubbing his neck uncomfortably as he peers down
almost guiltily at Harry. “Louis, you didn’t,” Harry whispers, praying for a denial of what
he’s expecting. Instead, Louis averts his gaze, expelling a long sigh and biting his lip.

“You could’ve gotten hurt, Louis! Or in trouble!” Harry shuts his eyes, combing his fingers
through his hair in distress.

“I know.” Louis grimaces and pauses, as if considering the best way to phrase this. “And I am
really sorry, love, because you told me not too, but I don’t regret that I did it.” Harry stares at
him, eyes wide and sad, shaking his head.

“I- come in,” he stammers, stepping aside, “you need ice.” Louis rolls his eyes in
exasperation but follows Harry into the kitchen, perching on one of the stools as Harry busies
himself with preparing an ice pack. He turns away, heart racing, so Louis can’t see that his
eyes are brimming with tears at the thought of Louis putting himself through that kind of
trouble and risk because he was too stupid to protect himself. After a few shaky, quiet
breaths, he turns back to Louis, who’s watching him carefully through soft, wide eyes.

“I don’t need an ice pack-” Louis grumbles, but Harry fixes him with a firm stare and presses
it softly against his eye. Wincing slightly at the cold, Louis places a hand gently on Harry’s
waist, looking up at him.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks quietly, brushing his thumb lightly against Harry’s hips.
Harry shrugs nonchalantly, biting his lip and giving him a reluctant -and perhaps
unconvincing- nod. Louis raises his eyebrows, and Harry looks away.

“What happened, Louis?” he asks firmly. Louis sighs, rubbing his temple.

“I found Chris in the hallway and I punched him and then we fought a bit and we both got
suspended.” Harry closes his eyes, swallowing. “I’m not sorry, Harry, I’m glad I did it.”
Louis looks up, eyes soft.

“How long are you suspended for?” Harry says tautly, placing his arms around Louis’ neck.
Louis removes the ice pack, setting it on the counter and pulling Harry onto his lap.

“A week.” Harry doesn’t ask about Chris, unsure if he wants to know the answer.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Louis,” he says unsteadily, looking up at him.
“Harry, I honestly don’t regret it a bit.” Louis pauses, rubbing a hand up Harry’s back. “I
came out to my mum,” he says quietly, and Harry jerks up to look at him.

“Seriously?” Louis smiles, nodding. “Lou, how?”

“It was kind of an accident, but Chris basically told her we were dating and she was… she
was really okay about it.” Despite everything, Harry smiles as he sees the relief on Louis’
face. “She made me tell her all about when I knew, and when you and I first started dating,
and she promised not to tell Mark and I just… I’m so glad, Harry.” Harry kisses him on the
cheek lightly.

“I’m really happy for you, Lou, that’s so great.” Louis laughs, kissing Harry on the temple.

“Right now we should be focusing on you, though,” Louis says firmly, combing his fingers
through Harry’s hair. “What do you need? Do you want me to be here?”

“Yeah, um, can you stay?” Harry says shyly, thumbing the fabric of Louis’ tee shirt.

“Was hoping you’d say that, love,” Louis says warmly, “you wanna go upstairs and just
watch a movie or something?” Harry nods gratefully, pushing himself off of Louis’ lap.

Louis intertwines his fingers with Harry’s as they walk upstairs, and Harry takes that as a
sign to lean into him. Louis wraps an arm around his waist and more or less guides him to the
bed, snuggling close to him and resting his head on Louis’ chest.

Louis orders takeaway pizza (“Don’t even think about paying, Harry”) and they eat that and
watch How to Get Away with Murder for most of the afternoon. He doesn’t know when but
at some point, Harry gives into his exhaustion and drifts into sleep, still resting against Louis.

***

Louis pulls Harry against his chest, tightly and securely, as he rubs gentle circles over Harry’s
back. Harry, in return, drapes an arm over Louis’ stomach and curls into him, face buried in
his shoulder.

Even as Harry closes his eyes and drifts into a light sleep, Louis stays completely awake and
just stares at him. Even with a cut running through his eyebrows and bruises scattered across
his face, he’s still the most beautiful thing that Louis has ever seen. His curls are swept across
his eyes, tickling the bottom of Louis’ chin, and his eyebrows flutter lightly every few
seconds and Louis is so, so in love with him.

It hits him all of a sudden that this might not be forever- they’re sixteen and eighteen and
their lives are uncertain and unstable, and no matter how secure their relationship might seem
this could all end tomorrow. It’s terrifying, the idea of this ending; he’s grown so used to
having Harry that he doesn’t know what he would do without him.

But they’re teenagers. Louis doesn’t know what he’s going to do next month, or next year or
for the rest of his life and even if he did, there’s no guarantee of Harry being a part of it. He
wants him to be -fuck, Louis can’t imagine anything worse than losing him- but even when he
tries to imagine an older version of them, sharing a flat or graduating Uni or standing before
each other at an altar, exchanging rings and promises of forever, it feels more like a dream or
a fantasy than a plausible outcome.

He’ll either marry Harry or he’ll stop loving him, and he doesn’t know which one seems less
realistic.

Or maybe neither will happen- maybe they’ll split up in a few months and Louis will be fated
to think about him forever; he’ll have found the love of his life in secondary school and lost
him before they graduate. And he really shouldn’t feel like this- he hasn’t ever believed in
soulmates and he still doesn’t, really, but this...this is different. This is indisposable and
delicate and special, so special. Harry is so special.

And so Louis pushes away all fear and doubt and tries to let him know that he’s loved, that
he’s everything beautiful and wonderful and good in the world. Harry looks so fragile in his
arms, so delicate and vulnerable and Louis wishes he could change that, thinks he would give
up everything to change that.

Fuck, he is so in love.

He doesn’t leave Harry until about an hour later, when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
Shifting carefully off of the bed, he sees that it’s Liam, so he accepts and steps quietly out of
Harry’s room.

“Hello?” he says tiredly, preparing himself for the inevitable berating.

“Louis, what the fuck was that?” Louis sighs, leaning against the wall. “You got suspended,
you fucking idiot-”

“Liam, I don’t regret it,” Louis snaps. “He deserved it and I’m glad that I did it.” There’s
shuffling and mumbled conversation on the other end, and Louis waits impatiently until he
Niall’s voice.

“Hey, Lou, are you at Harry’s right now?” Niall says calmly.

“Yeah,” Louis tells him, glancing briefly back into his room.

“Do you know- do you think he’d want me and the lads to come over?” Louis pauses, tapping
his fingers absently against the wall.

“He’s asleep, let me wake him up and ask,” Louis says after a moment.

“Oh, no, let him sleep-”

“No, I think he’d be okay with seeing you guys, lemme just check.”

“Alright,” Niall says gratefully, “thanks Lou.” He ends the call, so Louis opens the door
slowly to check on him.
“Hey, love?” Louis settles on the bed, touching his shoulder gently. Harry groans softly,
turning over so he’s facing Louis. “Baby, you okay?”

“Mhm,” Harry murmurs, sitting up and brushing his curls out of his face. Louis can’t help but
smile at him.

“The boys want to know if they can come over.” Louis watches carefully for Harry’s
reaction; he bites his lip, lowering his gaze nervously. “They’re just worried, love, and they
wanna see you.”

“Yeah, you can tell them to come.” Louis blinks in surprise, furrowing his eyebrows. “It’s
alright,” Harry assures him, squeezing his hand. “I don’t mind seeing them.”

“Great,” Louis says, sending a quick text to Niall. He places his phone back on the bed,
reaching up to touch Harry’s cheek softly.

“You sure you’re okay?” Louis asks quietly. Harry nods, moving forward so he can lean
against his chest.

“What did he get, for suspension?” The question must have been on Harry’s lips the entire
time; his voice has the slightest tremor as he asks it, as if he’s scared of the answer. Louis
combs his fingers through his curls, biting his lip sadly.

“Two weeks,” Louis tells him. Harry inhales sharply, stiffening in Louis’ arms. “I know it’s
not enough, baby, I’m so sorry.” He’s at a loss for anything else to say; how can you tell
someone, who might be the love of your life, that their attacker isn’t getting punished? Louis
runs a hand over his back soothingly, waiting for a response with baited breath.

“I hate him so much,” Harry whispers, voice full of sadness. He can feel that Harry’s shaking
slightly in his arms, so he tightens his arms around him.

“I know, baby.” In a sense, he does know; after all, Louis loathes him too. But it’s not the
same, it can’t be the same; this is the person who’s abused him, in a way, for years; this
person has destroyed his self esteem and sense of safety. He can’t possibly hate him in the
same way, no matter how much he despises him. “I do too.”

And there’s not much left to be said, or that can be said, anyway. Louis hopes he can say
everything that he wants to in the way he’s holding him, in the gentle grazes of his fingers
against Harry’s hair and back. He doesn’t let go of him until he hears the front door swing
open and then voices, echoing loudly throughout the house.

“Tommo? Harry? You guys here?” Louis glances briefly at Harry for a confirmation that this
is okay and when Harry nods, he calls back to them, “Yeah, up here!”

There’s pounding on the stairs as three teenage boys race up them, and then the door swings
open and all three of them practically fly at Harry. Louis can’t help but smile as he watches
each of them embrace him so tightly and lovingly, mussing his curls affectionately. When
they pull away, Harry’s cheeks are pink but he’s smiling, and Louis is so, so grateful for that.
“Harry, are you okay?”

“How are you feeling, mate?”

“Soph is really sorry she couldn’t come, she wanted us to give you her love-”

“You look tough, Harry, looks like you got into a bar fight or something-”

“He’s such a fucking prick, Harry, Louis destroyed him today-”

“Okay, okay!” Harry says finally, and all of them fall silent. “I’m alright, thanks for coming
guys.” Niall wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders, nuzzling him gently, and Zayn reaches
over to squeeze his arm affectionately.

“How long are you suspended for?” Liam turns to Louis with a sympathetic look, biting his
lip slightly.

“A week.” Louis rolls his eyes, leaning back on Harry’s headboard. “Worth it, though.” Liam
gives him a small, exasperated smile, before looking back at Harry.

“Harry, do you need anything? Food, or anything?” Liam asks, concerned. Harry looks up at
him timidly.

“Um, if one of you wanna make cocoa or something-”

“On it,” Zayn announces, pushing himself off of the bed. “Everyone else want some?”
There’s a hum of agreement before he walks out.

“You’re sure you’re okay with everyone here, right?” Niall says seriously. “Because we don’t
wanna overwhelm you here-”

“No, this is good,” Harry says softly, and Louis can tell he’s being truthful. “But can we just
like, watch a movie or something? I’m just really tired.” The other three nod enthusiastically.

“Should we go downstairs, then?” Niall suggests, and Harry nods. As he gets off the bed,
Louis reaches over to take his hand, and Harry squeezes Louis’ gratefully.

“Oi, Zaynie! We’re down here now!” Niall calls into the kitchen. Zayn emerges a moment
later with a tray of mugs, grinning, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for
his best friend.

“Thank you, Zayn,” Louis says, almost teasingly, smiling up at his friend as he takes a cup.
He hands one to Harry, who’s tucked into his side, and he too smiles gratefully at Zayn.

“Thanks, mate,” he says quietly.

“No problem.” Zayn ruffles Harry’s curls gently before settling on the floor and resting his
chin on Niall’s shoulder.

“So what are we watching? Harry?” Liam turns back to the two of them, eyebrows raised.
“I don’t care, someone else can pick-”

“Put on one of those Nicholas Sparks movies,” Louis supplies, winking at his boyfriend.
Harry smiles and buries his face briefly into Louis’ shoulder as Liam shrugs and clicks on the
TV.

Despite Niall’s complaints at the beginning of the film, the five of them are silent as the rest
of the movie continues. It’s not until near the end of the film when Louis looks over and
realizes that Harry’s staring blankly at the screen, eyes glassy and sad.

“You alright, love?” he says, softly enough so only Harry can hear. Harry nods quickly,
resting his head against Louis’ shoulder and sighing.

“I’m just really tired.” Louis doesn’t buy it, not for a second, but he just kisses Harry’s
forehead in a vain attempt to comfort him.

When he leaves several hours later, he knows that they haven't done enough.

***
As soon as Louis opens his front door, he knows he’s walked into a war zone. Mark and Jo
are sitting at the table, clearly waiting for him. His mum’s eyes are wide and anxious and
Mark is staring coldly at him.

“Have a seat, Louis,” Mark says shortly as he enters. Louis fixes him with a bleak stare as he
pulls out a chair and sits, leaning back and waiting for something.

“So you were suspended.” It’s not a question, but Louis nods tersely. “I hear, from your
mother, that you got into a fight.”

“Yep,” Louis says coldly. “Is there anything new you need to tell me?” Mark scowls at him,
and Jo shoots him a subtle warning look.

“Do you realize how inconvenient this was, Louis? We now have to pay the hospital bill for
this boy. You broke his nose, and you don’t seem very apologetic.”

“Mark,” Jo cuts in, touching his arm gently, “Louis was defending a friend of his, who this
boy hurt, I think we should give him a break, sweetie.” Louis’ heart skips a beat as Mark
turns back to him, eyes narrow.

“What friend?”

“Sophia Smith,” Louis says, saying the first name that pops into his head. “He was harassing
her yesterday, so I wanted to get back at him.” Louis risks a quick glance at his mother; her
lips are pursed, but she gives him a small nod. Mark trains Louis with an intense stare, as if
waiting for him to say something else.

“Fine,” he says finally, “but that doesn’t excuse the fact that this is now going to cost us.”
Louis scoffs, and Jo glares at him. “You’re going to have to make up for that somehow.”

“Fine,” Louis snaps, raising his hands innocently, “can I go now?”

 “Where were you this afternoon?” Mark presses. Louis rolls his eyes, standing up.

“With Sophia,” he lies, exasperated. With that, he turns and stalks out.

When he makes it to his room, he swallows and collapses heavily onto the bed. He’s okay.
Mark doesn’t know, and his mother still loves him, and he’s not getting kicked out of his
house. He’s alright.

He doesn’t allow himself to consider the potential disasters that could come from this.
Instead, he sends a quick text to Sophia apologizing for using her name to lie to his step dad
(she replies that she’s honored), and a text to Harry telling him that he loves him and he
should call if he needs anything (he replies that he loves him too), and he pushes away any
thoughts of the future for the night.

***

Watching the effects of the assault on Harry isn’t easy for Louis.

He won’t admit it, but he’s terrified. Louis can tell by the way he flinches if someone brushes
against him, how he tenses up when someone taps him on the shoulder or shouts his name
from the end of the hallway. Once, Louis wrapped his arms around him from behind with no
warning and Harry jumped and turned around in panic, breaths short and shallow.

He thinks Chris will have finally left him alone. Louis hasn’t seen him except for in practice,
and even there he goes out of his way to avoid Louis. It doesn’t make a difference to Harry,
though, and Louis can still see the anxiety that haunts him.

(He also makes sure Calvin and Oli get what they deserve. One afternoon, Louis corners
them in the hallway and threatens to make them regret it if they ever go near Harry again.
They listen to him, and stay away).

So Louis does what he can to make him feel safe- he stays with him as much as he can,
wrapping an arm around him protectively or taking his hand. When they aren’t together,
Louis texts him constantly, playing it off as boredom or just wanting to talk to him.

Harry doesn’t fall for it, but he doesn’t argue either.

And Louis makes it through by reminding himself and Harry that the year is ending soon,
that they won’t have to put up with this for much longer, that it’ll all be okay. He doesn’t
know if it helps, but he prays to god that they’ll make it to the end of the year without
incident.

Chapter End Notes

As always, leave comments/kudos to let me know what you thought!

Come say hi on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

Thank you for reading, I love you all.

 Chapter 16
Chapter Notes

Hello all, I had to lock myself in isolation yesterday to finish this but I wanted to
because I like this chapter.

Thank you Jane for betaing this with me, it was fun to do it together :)

Also!!! Alice did an AMAZING drawing for this fic that I'm absolutely in love with so
check it out here and reblog it because it's beautiful and she's amazing!

Usual trigger warnings!!!

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The end of the year is a blessing for everyone, especially Harry.

Louis could see how much it drained from him, the constant caution and terror he faced all
week. When they get out, he’s visibly calmer- he doesn’t tense up every time someone yells
behind him or flinch if someone touches him unexpectedly, and he seems more lively,
without the constant anxiety of school weighing over him. Louis’s just relieved that he’s
okay.

To Louis’ astonishment, he passes every class, doing shockingly well in a few of them. He
almost hated to admit it, but he felt some sense of contentment with that, plus: he wasn’t
dropping out. That was enough for him.

(Harry had been the first person he told after getting his marks. “I told you so!” he had
laughed smugly, and then practically jumped into his arms in celebration. Louis thinks it was
worth it just for that).

But more than that, he’s grateful because he can see the relief being out of school brings to
Harry. He’s far less tense, even in public places, (although Louis still makes sure to keep and
arm around his waist or shoulders protectively, because he knows that it makes him feel safe),
and he seems to radiate more away from the constant crowds and noises and stress.

There’s also the fact that this gives them almost unlimited time together. Mark compensates
for the time he misses with expensive vacations, so he’s more than happy when Louis
announces that he’d rather stay back. Anyway, it gives Louis the opportunity to spend endless
time with Harry.
And they do. They spend hours on end at the other’s house, snuggled against each other and
watching a movie. If they're not inside, then they're out at a coffee shop or ice cream parlor,
holding hands and whispering to each other, ignoring the presence of everyone else around
them. They spend a decent amount of time with the other boys too- they try to make elaborate
plans but more often than not, they end up collapsed in someone's living room, the five of
them talking and laughing hysterically. And there are so many nights when Harry ends up in
Louis' bed, tucked against him with his head on his his chest, listening to each other’s
breathing as they fall asleep.

When Louis' family is there, it isn't much difference. Mark is missing, most of the time, and
when he is around Louis and Harry are nowhere to be found. Jay adores Harry, so when he's
around she's more than delighted for the chance to talk to him. Louis' sisters are thrilled too -
Daisy and Phoebe harass him relentlessly, begging him to play with them (most times, he
caves and does so. Louis thinks he falls a little more in love with him every time that
happens). Lottie teases him about the fact that he's dating “my brother, of all people, when
you could obviously do so much better”, and Fizzy develops an endearing, middle school
crush on him. Louis makes sure to let her know that he's far too old for her and firmly off
limits.

But everything is good; every is better than Louis can remember it being in a while, and he's
almost afraid to let himself settle into it. Still, it doesn't change after a few weeks, and Louis
enjoys it immensely.

About three weeks after school lets out, Louis’ out at a cafe with Harry when they get a text
from Niall.

hey guys !!! my brothers home from uni and he’s throwing a party tomorrow! you guys
should come, it’ll be sick !!!

“So what do you think?” Louis asks, looking up across the table. Harry stirs his lemonade
slowly with his straw, glancing up at Louis with a frown.

“I don’t know…” he mumbles, “I mean, parties aren’t really my favorite thing…” He trails
off, biting his lip, tugging absently at one of his bracelets.

“I know,” Louis says gently, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand, “It might be fun,
though.”

“You can still go,” Harry tells him, “Liam and Zayn will probably be there too.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna go without you.” Louis pauses, watching him for a moment. “Do
you know Niall’s brother?”

“Yep,” Harry says, “he’s pretty cool.” He hesitates, taking a long sip of his drink. “Do you
really wanna go?”

Louis shrugs. “I think it could be fun, but we don’t have to, babe, whatever you’re
comfortable with.” Harry swallows. “We could like, go and check it out and then if it’s not
good we can go back to my house and watch a movie. Or we could just ditch everyone and sit
outside like we did at that one party.” Harry laughs, relaxing slightly, and Louis smiles at
him.

“You promise we don’t have to stay long if it’s not good?” Louis nods seriously, giving him a
warm smile.

“Yeah, of course not.” Harry sighs defeatedly.

“Okay,” he says, interlocking his fingers with Louis’. Louis grins. “I know your family’s
gonna be home tomorrow, but, my mum’s actually gonna be away, so if you wanna stay at
my house we could do that.” He glances up almost shyly, head cocked nervously as he waits
for Louis to respond.

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be great,” Louis says casually, nodding. And Harry smiles, and that’s that.

When Louis pulls up in front of Harry’s house the next day

“Oi! Tommo! Harry! You guys made it!” Niall rushes up to them, throwing an arm around
each of their shoulders. It’s clear that he’s already a few drinks into the party, and Louis
doesn’t know why he’s surprised. “You guys gotta see Greg-” As Niall scans the room, Louis
glances in amusement at Harry, who shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Hey! Greg!”
Niall calls suddenly, and his brother appears to materialize in front of them.

“Harry! How’re you doing, man?” Harry grins, giving him a quick one armed hug. Greg
smiles, turning to Louis. “And you’re Louis?”

“Yep, good to finally meet you,” Louis grasps his hand quickly, before wrapping his arm
around Harry again. Niall suddenly claps Harry on the shoulder firmly, causing him to jump
slightly.

“Harry, you gotta come over here and try this-” Before Harry can respond, Niall tugs him
across the room, leaving Louis alone suddenly.

“Glad you came, mate,” someone calls, and Louis swings around to see Zayn, leaning over a
table and watching him from a few feet away with a grin. Louis smiles, heading over to him.
“Beer?”

“Designated driver,” Louis explains, and Zayn nods in approval, handing him a coke. “You
probably shouldn’t be drinking either.”

“I’m staying over here tonight,” Zayn explains. Louis nods, drumming his fingers against the
table. “Where’s your boy?” Zayn asks a moment later. Louis gestures vaguely around the
room.

“Niall dragged him off somewhere,” Louis tells him. Zayn nods, sipping his drink. “So you
met the brother today, huh? First time?”

Zayn laughs, sweeping his hair off of his forehead. “Yeah, I was really nervous, but Greg’s
cool. He was really chill, so I wasn’t like, scared.” Louis snorts, shaking his head.
“Coulda been way worse, mate, Harry’s sister pretty much threatened me when we first met.”

“Ah, she must not have known that you would literally throw yourself off a bridge before you
hurt him.” Zayn’s half joking, but there’s a knowing look behind his eyes. Louis laughs,
shrugging because, well, he isn’t wrong.

“Oh, please, as if Greg has to ever worry about you hurting Niall,” Louis retorts. Zayn
laughs, nodding.

“Fair enough.” He pauses for a moment, grinning at Louis. “He told me he loved me the
other day.”

Louis chokes on his soda, snapping his head back to Zayn. “What’d you say, man?”

“I said it back,” Zayn admits quietly, with a small smile. “I meant it.” Louis smiles warmly,
slinging an arm over Zayn’s shoulder.

“To us being in love,” he says jokingly, raising his drink, and Zayn shakes his head fondly.

“Cheers,” he replies. Louis claps him on the shoulder, taking a swig of his drink and turning
back to Zayn with a grin.

They hover in the kitchen for a while more, greeting Liam and Sophia briefly, until the
crowds start to thin and Louis figures he should check on Harry. He heads towards the back
of the house, dragging Zayn along with him, and spots Harry, Niall, and Sophia on the couch,
Liam standing nervously behind them.

“Hey!” Louis calls, and Liam turns in relief.

“Hey, Lou, you haven’t drank yet, have you?” Louis frowns, walking over to him.

“No, why?” Liam gestures in exasperation to the couch, and Niall turns in surprise, waving
them over enthusiastically.

“Hey! Louis! Babe! Come over here, do you want a shot too?” Louis stares at the them,
taking in the empty shot glasses and spilled liquor on the table.

“Jesus Christ, Niall, what the fuck did you do?” he asks in exasperation, heading over to
Harry. Harry looks up at him, giggling.

“Louuuuis,” he slurs, and Louis almost wants to laugh. “C’mon this stuff tastes so weird, try
it.”

“Niall, you idiot, how much did he drink?” Louis asks, rolling his eyes. Harry pouts, and
Louis strokes his curls gently. He throws a glance at Liam and Zayn, who are standing back
and watching the scene unfold in amusement.

“Not that much, just a beer and a couple shots…” Niall explains, and Louis decides he’s not
sober enough to reason with either.
“Yeah, Lou, since I got here he only had a couple of shots,” Sophia supplies, waving her
drink at Louis, and Louis hears Liam laugh lovingly from behind him.

“Hey, Harry? Baby?” Louis bends down, speaking softly in his ear. “We gotta go, love.”

“Mhm, okay,” Harry laughs, throwing his arms around Louis without warning. “How are we
getting home?”

“‘m gonna drive, babe,” Louis tells him, biting back a laugh. “Here, get up-” Louis helps him
up, tightening an arm around his waist to support him.

“Thank you, Niall,” Louis says, somewhat irritated, but he’s grinning. Niall gives him a wave
before turning back to Sophia. Louis glances back to Zayn and Liam.

“We should leave soon too,” Liam says, smiling sympathetically at Louis. Louis clasps his
shoulder.

“I’ll see you guys later this week,” Louis says, giving the two of them quick nods. Zayn
waves, smiling, and Louis turns back to Harry, who’s wrapped his arm tightly around Louis’
waist and is now resting his head on Louis’ shoulder.

By the time they get to Louis’ car, Louis figures out that Harry is a happy, affectionate drunk.
It doesn’t surprise him in the least, once he thinks about it, but he enjoys it immensely as
Harry giggles and chats absentmindedly for the whole car ride home.

“Okay, you need to sleep, love,” Louis finally tells him once they’re inside. As they walk
upstairs carefully, he doesn’t let go of him. “Get your pajamas on, okay?”

“Mhm, okay.” Harry stumbles to his drawer, grabbing a shirt and sweatpants. “Don’t watch
me change,” he says sharply, but it’s very hard to take him seriously.

“Alright, love, I’m gonna go get my stuff.” Louis shuts the door softly behind him, heading
downstairs to throw on pajamas. When he comes back upstairs Harry is standing up, waiting
for him.

“Louis,” his voice is slurred in a giggle as he throws his arms heavily around Louis’ neck.
Louis barely catches him, stumbling backwards a few steps as he smiles in amusement. “I
want you to fuck me.”

Louis freezes, blinking. He wants to, fuck, he’s thought about this nonstop for the last six
months, but in the moment, it’s out of the question. Louis brushes it off with a snort, leading
Harry to the bed.

“Go to sleep, love,” he says gently, “you aren’t thinking.” Harry collapses onto the bed,
looking up at him with an expression of childlike anger, and perhaps hurt.

“Why not?” he says, brow furrowed. Louis has to swallow a laugh as he climbs into bed
beside him, smoothing his curls down.
“Because you’re drunk, baby, and I would be a horrible person if I took advantage of that.”
Harry’s eyes darken and maybe he’s just drunk, but Louis still reaches out to touch his
shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“You don’t think I’m attractive?” Harry’s voice is dull and expressionless, his eyes empty,
and Louis knows he’s not thinking clearly but it still hurts to hear.

“Harry, no of course not, babe, you’re gorgeous, but we can’t-”

“Because I don’t either,” Harry continues. Louis snaps his head up, staring at him in
confusion. “I’m not pretty, or fit, or experienced-”

“Harry,” Louis says softly, and Harry looks up. “You’re perfect, and it’s not that I don’t want
to, but we can’t- you’re really drunk, love, and we can’t do it like this, okay?” Harry stares at
him, head tipped lazily to one side, face completely neutral. Despite the fact that Harry’s
plastered, Louis feels a pang in his chest as his boy talks about himself like that.

And then as quickly as the sudden darkness passed over him it fades, and Harry perks up and
smiles like a mischievous child. “Goodnight, Lou,” he says thickly, nuzzling his head into his
shoulder. Louis laughs softly, tucking Harry under his arm as he lays down, but he can’t
shake the nausea that came with Harry’s comment.
***

Harry wakes up with an excruciating headache.

“Morning, sunshine,” Louis says with a smirk, tossing his phone onto the comforter. Harry
groans, sitting up shakily.

“What the fuck?” he says hoarsely, and Louis snorts.

“Niall got you smashed,” he explains. A moment later, he hands Harry a cup that was sitting
on the bedside table. “Drink this, it’ll help.” Harry glances at him skeptically.

“Did you make it?” he rasps. Louis glares at him mockingly.

“It’s a smoothie, Harold, even I couldn’t fuck it up.” Harry laughs, and then groans as his
head spins. He takes a small sip, leaning back onto his headboard.

“I’m never drinking again. Or letting Niall do anything.” Louis chuckles, smiling at him
fondly.

“So, do you remember anything?” Harry frowns, sweeping his hair off his forehead. He
remembers taking the first two shots and after that, it’s all a blur of colors and noise.

“Not really.” Louis nods, biting his lip. “Why? Did I do something?”

Louis hesitates, thumbing Harry’s pillow. “You were acting kinda… unlike yourself when we
got back here,” he says finally, glancing up at Harry. Harry’s stomach drops, heart pounding.

“How?” he says breathlessly.

“We, um, we got home and you kinda… suggested we do stuff.” Harry’s cheeks heat up and
he stares at Louis, swallowing. “And like, that was- I mean, I’m a horny drunk-” Harry
chokes out a laugh and relaxes slightly as Louis tightens an arm around his shoulder. “-But
then when I told you that we should wait you… said some stuff that wasn’t great.” Harry
rakes his fingernails against his wrist, waiting anxiously for Louis to continue. “You were
like, putting yourself down and I just-”

“What did I say?” Harry asks quietly. Louis looks at him sadly.

“I, uh, I think you said you didn’t think you were attractive, or experienced, and I wouldn’t
want to have sex with you because of that-” Harry shuts his eyes, swallowing. “-which, I
mean, isn’t true, at all, you’re perfect, but just… do you feel that?”

Sometimes, there are moments when it hits Harry just how little everyone in his life really
knows about his mental state. This is one of them. Harry almost wants to laugh at the
implication that he could feel anything but that, at how blissfully unaware Louis is. In a kind
of twisted way, he’s proud of himself, but in a much more real way he thinks he might be
sick.

“I was drunk, Lou,” is all he says, shaking his head dismissively. Louis raises his eyebrows,
so Harry rolls his eyes in exasperation. “I’m good, I promise.”

“Okay,” Louis says after a beat, “‘Cause, you know, you can tell me if that’s true.”

Oh, the irony.

“It isn’t,” Harry says seriously. Louis replies by giving him a warm, lazy smile and pressing a
kiss to his cheek.

There are a few moments of quiet, and then Louis speaks up again. “About the, um, first
thing you said?” Harry tenses in his arms, heart racing.

“I don’t know, Lou-” Harry says quietly, slightly ashamed. “I just-”

“Love, you don’t need an excuse,” Louis says soothingly, “I told you we can wait as long as
you want and I was serious.” Harry drops his head onto Louis’ shoulder, closing his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispers. But even when Louis presses a kiss to his temple and rubs a hand
over Harry’s back, he can’t shake the sudden dread that’s risen in his stomach.

Louis’ gonna get bored. He’s gonna get tired of dating someone who won’t even give him a
quick handjob or blowjob and he’s going to leave. It’s a matter of time.

***
A few days later, Louis’ home alone when he gets a text from Liam.

To Harry♥, Niall, Zayn, Sophia

hey, my uncle’s going away tmw and he said we could spend the night at his really nice
house. you guys in?
Louis: yeah !!!

Harry♥: yes! :) Without waiting to hear from the others, Louis dials his boyfriend. He picks
up on the second ring.

“Hi,” Harry says warmly, and Louis smiles at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, baby,” he says, “so you’re going to Liam’s tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, “and you are…”

“Yep,” Louis answers, “So I’m hoping you’ll allow me to be your chauffeur?” Harry giggles.

“Yeah, thanks Lou,” he says happily, “it’s like a half hour drive from here, he’s gonna text
directions.

“Alright, sounds good. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Okay.” Harry pauses, and there’s shuffling on the other end. “I’ll talk to you later, then?”

“Yep,” Louis answers. “Alright, I love you.”

“Love you too,” Harry says, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice. He ends the call,
grinning and sending a quick text to Liam to ask for directions.

He picks Harry up the next day at exactly seven. It’s sweltering, so when Harry dumps his
bag in the backseat and sinks into the air conditioned car, he breathes a sigh of relief. Louis
watches him sympathetically.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Harry mutters, before leaning in to kiss Louis on the cheek. Louis
smiles fondly, shaking his head.

“The bracelets might affect that,” he points out absently, eyes on the road.

“Too much work to take them off,” Harry replies, and Louis laughs.

“Gotta keep up your hipster aesthetic?” he jokes, and Harry snorts.

“Precisely.” Louis smiles at that, and the conversation dies there.

They arrive around eight, mostly because Louis gets lost halfway there (“It’s not my fault that
these road signs are fucking confusing, Harry!”) and they pull in just as Liam is opening the
door for Niall and Zayn.

“Hey, come on in!” Liam says happily, hugging each of them individually. When Louis walks
in, he claps him on the back then steps back and grins at him.

“How’re you doing, Payno?” he asks, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

“Pretty, good, you?” Liam replies, clapping Louis on the back.

“Not bad.” Louis surveys the house- it is excessively nice, with polished wood floors and a
comfortable, warm living room, light streaming in through tall windows. “You know, Payno,
I was wondering what you would’ve said if someone told you six months ago that you’d be
inviting me to your uncle’s house to spend the night?”

“I would’ve said that maybe I was inviting you over to poison you or something,” Liam
deadpans, and Louis laughs. “I’m glad you’re here, though, man.”

“Likewise.” Louis pats his arm before heading over to the couch, where the others are
clustered. Sophia waves at him as he sits down beside Harry, grinning around at everyone.

“So is there a plan tonight, lads? And Soph?” She winks at him as he glances around the
room. Liam kneels next to Sophia, touching her shoulder gently, before speaking up.

“Um, we’re probably just gonna hang out here and order food later? We have some
snacks…” he gestures to the table, and Louis nods and helps himself to a handful of chips.
“And we have a bunch of movies to watch.”

“Sounds great, Liam,” Zayn says reassuringly, and the others nod in agreement.

They kill the next hour or so by exchanging stories of their summer; Sophia had been in
America for most of it, so she told them all about that. Even though the five of them had been
together a lot - perhaps too much, for some people - Louis still feels like he hasn’t seen his
boys, so as he sits there and laughs with them, he feels perfectly content. At around half 10
the pizza arrives, and they sit around the kitchen table eating that until Niall suggests they
watch a movie. They spread out in front of the TV- Niall sits on the couch opposite from
Louis, who has Harry tucked into his side, and Zayn sits on the floor just underneath him
with Liam and Sophia.

“So you guys all okay with horror?” Liam asks, inserting the DVD. Louis doesn’t miss the
way that Harry bites his lip, lowering his gaze nervously, so he leans in to whisper “I got you,
baby,” and Harry relaxes, giving him a shy smile.

Partway through the movie- (when Harry’s clinging to Louis’ arm, face partially hidden in
his shoulder, and Louis himself wouldn’t mind turning it off), Zayn and Niall head into the
kitchen to make popcorn. Louis switches his attention from the movie to watch them- they’re
leaning against the counter, talking quietly and casting each other long, warm looks. Niall
places a hand gently on Zayn’s shoulder, and as Zayn smiles softly, Louis catches his gaze.
He grins at him before raising his eyebrows and nodding to Harry, who’s still curled into
Louis’ side, and Louis smiles fondly.

To us being in love.

After that one is finished (to all of their relief) they decide on The Notebook (much to Harry’s
delight). Louis dazes out for most of it, but eventually it’s 12:45 and all of them are
exhausted.

“Guys I know it’s not that late but-” Sophia yawns, stretching, “-can we go to bed?” There’s a
hum of agreement.
“Okay, um, me and Soph are in the room right here, Zayn and Niall are in the one right
around the corner, and Louis and Harry are upstairs, cool?” Louis nods, watching as the four
of them get ready to leave. He nudges Harry gently in the side, unsure if he’s awake.

“Love?” Harry groans slightly, shifting. “Ready to go upstairs?”

“I don’t wanna move,” Harry grumbles, and Louis laughs quietly.

“You want me to carry you?” Louis murmurs in his ear. Harry snorts condescendingly, raising
his eyebrows.

***
“You can’t carry me,” he scoffs, and Louis smirks.

“Are you sure?” Before Harry can respond, Louis scoops one arm underneath Harry’s legs
and one under his back, lifting him up easily.

“Louis!” Harry yelps, more out of surprise than anything. On reflex, he winds his arms
around Louis’ neck, lifting his eyes to meet Louis’. He’s grinning smugly, looking down at
Harry with soft eyes. Harry rolls his eyes, smiling up at him.

“You underestimate my strength, Harold,” Louis says, shaking his head. “Don’t forget that I
mess around with punching bags.” Harry just leans up to kiss him on the cheek, laying his
head against Louis’ shoulder and smiling into his shirt.

Louis sets him down on the bed when they get upstairs, pushing a few stray curls off of
Harry’s forehead. “You ready for sleep, baby?” he says softly. Harry nods tiredly, rolling over
to make room for Louis.

“Fuck, there’s not even a fan in here or anything,” Louis complains, tossing his sweatshirt to
the ground. “I’m gonna open the window.” Harry nods again, watching as Louis strolls across
the room to push open the screen.

“I hope you know you’re still gonna cuddle me,” Harry calls from the bed, and Louis laughs
as he settles next to him.

“Always,” he says warmly, folding his arms around Harry’s stomach. Harry shifts slightly,
allowing himself to get comfortable. “You’re really gonna sleep in that sweatshirt, babe? It’s
a billion degrees in here.”

“It’s not that bad,” Harry mumbles, swallowing. Louis nuzzles his chin into Harry’s shoulder.

“Alright, I suppose,” he hums. He presses a firm, warm kiss to Harry’s neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry murmurs, “‘Night, Lou.”

“‘Night, Haz,” Louis replies, and Harry smiles when he closes his eyes.
***

Harry wakes up at some point, disoriented and nauseous from humidity. Half conscious, he
tugs off his jumper and shoves it off of the bed, settling back into Louis’ arms without
another thought.

***

At around three am, Louis wakes up. The room is sweltering and he can feel sweat on his
neck and face and he needs water. Carefully, retracts his arm from underneath Harry, rising
from the bed and tiptoeing into the bathroom.

He fills a cup and chugs it, before refilling it and heading back to bed. Light is streaming in
through the open window, and Louis can’t help but marvel at how pretty Harry looks, delicate
and soft underneath the moonlight.

It’s not until his eyes flicker down to Harry’s wrists that his heart stops.

He’s taken off his sweatshirt and Louis knows why it was there in the first place; both of his
arms are fully exposed to reveal thin, red marks scattered up and down both wrists, almost up
to his elbows. Louis lets out a little whimper of horror as he stares longer- there are hundreds
of them; some have faded into scars and some are recent, clearly from a matter of days ago.

Oh, god. Oh, god. There are so many of them. Louis can’t think, can’t breathe; with a sharp
breath, he stumbles out of the room, tears already burning in his eyes.

In the hallway, Louis sinks against the wall, taking a sharp breath. Harry cuts himself. Harry,
the best person he knows, the love of his life, probably, has been fucking hurting himself for
god knows how long and Louis had no fucking clue.

Desperately, he thinks back to their relationship, any hints that he’s overlooked. And then it’s
all falling into place; all the times he insisted he was cold, the constant bracelets, the lack of
anything past kissing. He remembers their first fucking meeting, that he’d noticed that Harry
kept playing with his sleeves and that he’d written it off as a tic. Oh, god, how could he not
have noticed?

He’s an idiot. He’s such a fucking idiot and because of his own stupidity, his boyfriend has
been suffering for… what? Six months? A year? He has no fucking idea, but it has to be at
least six months.

Louis sinks his head into his hands. He thinks he might actually be sick. He takes a few
shallow, uneven breaths, trying to calm down. He needs to know what to do. He needs to be
strong, for Harry, so he can get better.

But this could only be the beginning… there could be other things; eating disorders, suicidal
tendencies, other problems that Louis doesn’t even know about… he chokes back a dry sob,
burying his face in his hands again.
For one desperate moment he considers waking the others, getting their help, because he
knows that they’ll be devastated as well. He can’t bring himself to do it, though; he needs to
talk to Harry, to find out everything from him first.

He doesn’t know what to do- whether he should wake him up or confront him in the morning,
but when he staggers back in a moment later it’s settled. Harry’s sitting up in bed, rubbing his
eye and wincing at the light. He looks up at Louis, frowning slightly.

“Come back, ‘m cold without you.” Louis doesn’t answer- he can’t when all the air has been
sucked out of his chest and he’s staring, heartbroken, at his boyfriend. Harry sits up
straighter, furrowing his brow. “Lou? Are you okay?”

“Harry-” he croaks, and Harry stares at him, concerned. “You-” Louis gestures helplessly to
his own arms, and Harry’s reaction destroys any desperate hope he may have had that this
was all a mistake.

Harry pales, looking down frantically at his wrists and looking back up with a panicked,
terrified expression. Louis stares at him, waiting for a response. He can see Harry scrambling,
trying desperately to come up with an answer, and coming up short.

“You did that to yourself,” Louis whispers, and it’s not even a question. Harry recoils as if
he’s been slapped, shaking his head frantically.

“Louis I- I don’t- you-” Harry breaks off, tears pooling in his eyes. Louis screws his eyes
shut, at a loss for what to say. Before he can think of anything, any possible reaction that
would be okay, Harry heads for the door. Without thinking, Louis blocks him, slamming it
shut so forcefully that Harry jumps.

“Let me out.” Harry’s voice is trembling and fearful but still firm, and he crosses his arms
over his chest, eyes glistening with tears.

“No,” Louis says firmly, taking a deep breath.

“You can’t fucking keep me in here-”

“Why do you wanna go, Harry? So you can cut yourself more?” It comes out harshly and he
regrets it the instant it leaves his mouth, even more so when Harry flinches, face crumpling
into a sob. A moment later he sinks to his knees, chest heaving with hysterical, uncontrollable
sobs. In an instant Louis is beside him, reaching out to touch him gingerly. He doesn’t pull
away; he doesn’t react at all, so Louis wraps his arms around him, holding him as tightly as
he possibly can, heart breaking as Harry cries. The last time he’s held him like this had been
in the hospital, and that hadn’t come close to this. This is so much more painful, so much
more terrifying than that had been. Louis has no fucking clue how to fix this.

***

“Just go,” is the first thing that Harry chokes out, as soon as he’s caught his breath. He
doesn’t look up, or lean into Louis like he usually would; he can’t bear to see the horror and
disgust on his face.
This is it. This is where Louis realizes the mistakes he’s made over the last six months, where
whatever illusion he’s created for himself about Harry is shattered and he sees what he truly
is. Louis is going to leave, rightfully so, but he’s also going to tell the others, who will
inevitably break up with him. Harry knew from the start that this had an expiration date, and
that he would end up back where he started six months ago, only this time completely alone.

He hadn’t expected this though. He hadn’t expected Louis to find this dirty, disgusting secret,
and for it to end this way. He hadn’t planned for this- how could he have? How does one
defend or excuse something like this?

Louis’ arms are still around him, and it’s breaking his heart.

“Harry, what are you talking about?” Louis says in a shaky voice. Harry pulls away from
him, eyes burning, and stares at the ground.

“You can leave, Louis, I’m not gonna try to stop you.” Louis doesn’t answer; he doesn’t
move. “Please,” Harry adds pleadingly, dissolving into another sob. “Please, just go now.”

“Harry, you don’t think- do you think I’m gonna break up with you?” Harry forces himself to
look up at Louis, and even through his tears, he can see Louis’ astonishment. “Oh god, Harry,
I’m not- I’m not going anywhere.” His voice breaks off slightly towards the end. “Harry, I
love you, I wanna help you.” Harry stares at him in confusion, trying to process this. He’s at a
loss for what to say because this can’t be true, Louis can’t possibly want to stay after this.
He’s too good, and he’s pitying Harry or feels like it would be too cruel to leave him in this
state, but he’s just delaying.

“Hazza, why?” Louis asks, staring at him with a heartbroken expression. “Why would I
leave, sweetheart?” Harry doesn’t answer, he can’t, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to get
out a full sentence anyway. Louis reaches towards him, ever cautiously, as if he’s expecting
Harry to snap. Harry doesn’t blame him. When Harry doesn’t move, Louis puts an arm
carefully around him.

And suddenly it’s all hitting him again, and he’s in tears. This time, when Louis holds him he
leans into it, face buried in Louis’ shoulder as he cries. Louis holds him so tightly, rocking
slightly, but it doesn’t change anything, and it doesn’t help. Finally, Louis pulls away, lifting
Harry’s chin so he’s forced to look at him.

“Harry, I love you.” Louis’ voice is trembling, fraught with emotion. “I’m not leaving, I
promise you, but we still have to talk about this.” Harry shakes his head firmly, eyes
squeezed shut. “Baby this… this is really bad, Harry.” Harry doesn’t say a word, and Louis
rubs a few circles over his back. “Here, drink some water.”

The next thing he knows, Louis thrusts a glass of water into his hands. Slowly, he raises it to
his lips, taking a short sip and then exhaling. He swallows, setting it on the ground and
folding his arms around himself.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” he finally says in a broken voice. He glances up timidly at Louis,
who’s staring at him with a devastated expression. Louis wraps an arm around his shoulder,
drawing him closer and Harry sinks against him, too exhausted and fragile to resist.
“Why would I leave?” Louis says softly, voice thick. When Harry doesn’t say anything,
Louis nudges him gently in the side. “Baby?” he presses, and Harry takes a shaky breath.

“Because this is so-” he breaks off, swallowing a sob. “I’m so messed up, Louis, those are so
disgusting, I’m so fucking gross.” He bursts into crying again, and in an instant Louis is
holding him again, stroking his hair while all Harry can do is cry.

“Harry, you aren’t- you aren’t disgusting, baby, you’re so fucking beautiful, and-” Louis
swallows, attempting to keep his voice steady, “-you aren’t messed up, or broken.” Harry
shakes his head, burying his face in Louis’ shirt.

“Is it only your wrists?” Louis asks, voice shaking. Harry clings to him, shutting his eyes as
he shakes his head fearfully. “Where else, sweetheart?”

“My thighs,” Harry whispers, voice quivering. Louis nods sadly, shutting his eyes.

“Can I see?” Louis asks carefully. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head desperately
as tears prick the back of his eyes.

“No, Louis, it’s really really bad,” he hiccups, still shaking.

“Okay, okay love, alright,” Louis whispers. Harry lowers his head, cheeks hot with shame.
“Can I see your wrists, then?” He reaches out to take Harry’s hand, ever so gently, and Harry
freezes. Louis brushes his fingers over Harry’s cuts, grimacing painfully. Harry closes his
eyes, flinching away.

“Why, baby?” Louis finally says brokenly. Harry shudders, closing his eyes and whimpering.

“I just, I-” Harry hiccups, shaking, and Louis watches him patiently. “It helps everything, it’s
the only thing that helps.” He shivers again, uselessly wiping his eyes. Louis shifts slightly so
he’s looking at Harry, eyes full of sadness.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t- this doesn’t help, baby, this makes it worse.” Harry shakes his head
firmly, at a loss for what else to say. “Please let me help you, baby,” Louis whispers.

“I don’t know how to stop, Louis,” Harry whimpers, “It’s been so long-”

“How long?” Louis asks hoarsely. Harry swallows, reaching to pinch his wrists out of habit.
Louis catches his hand, guiding it gently away. “Don’t do that, love, please,” he says
desperately, and Harry looks away.

“How long, baby?” Louis repeats softly. Harry’s still trembling, and Louis rubs a hand up his
back.

“Um, almost two years,” Harry mumbles, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. Louis
exhales sharply, tensing slightly, and Harry lets out another sob.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Louis whispers, voice cracking. “I’m so so sorry, I should’ve known,
I’m such an idiot.”
“It’s not your fault, Louis,” Harry whispers brokenly, “Nobody’s ever found out, it’s so easy
to hide.” Louis shakes his head, pulling Harry against his chest.

“But I noticed that you’re always wearing jumpers or bracelets and I just thought it was- I’m
so fucking stupid, I’m so sorry.” Harry shakes his head desperately, overwhelmed with guilt
at the thought of Louis blaming himself for Harry’s own problems.

Harry pulls away from Louis, slumping against the bed and wrapping his arms around
himself. To his shock, Louis crawls beside him and puts an arm around his shoulders. Harry
tries so, so hard to fight back the tears rising in his throat again, but it’s a wasted effort. Louis
puts up with him so patiently, so gently before he speaks again.

“You’re gonna be okay, love,” Louis says quietly, “It’s gonna be okay.” Harry wishes he
could believe him.

“I’m so sorry Louis,” Harry sobs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“You don’t need to be sorry, baby, you didn’t- you didn’t do anything wrong.” Louis sounds
on the verge of tears himself.

They’re quiet for a moment, besides the pathetic little whimpers that Harry can’t seem to get
control over, until Louis speaks up again. “Why did you start?” he asks gently. Harry buries
his face in Louis’ shoulder for a moment before taking a sharp breath and looking back up at
him.

“I was, um, almost fifteen and I had just been outed and I was so scared and Chris and them
had all started hating me and I just- I had heard about it so I tried it and it helped, so I kept
doing it and…” Harry trails off, looking down and blinking rapidly. “It’s so fucking
disgusting, Louis.”

“No it isn’t, okay?” Louis voice is desperate but firm as he tilts Harry’s chin up so he’s
looking at him. “It’s not disgusting, Harry, you’re hurt, but you’re still wonderful.” Harry
hangs his head helplessly as Louis massages his back.

“I hate them so much,” Harry tells him bitterly, staring down. “They’re so ugly.” Louis takes
a shaky breath, running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“You aren’t ugly, Harry, you’re beautiful, and this doesn’t define you, okay? You’re so much
more than this.” Harry screws his eyes shut, shrinking in Louis’ arms.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Harry begs him suddenly, looking up. “Please, Louis-”

“I-” Louis hesitates biting his lip, “Hazza, people just want to help you-”

“Please, Louis, I don’t want anyone to know,” Harry says desperately, tears burning the back
of his eyes again. Louis sighs.

“Alright, I won’t- I won’t tell anyone.” Maybe Harry should feel better, but the ache in his
chest seems to grow.
“Harry, can you promise me that next time you want to- to do that, you’ll call me?” Harry
stares up at him, heartbroken.

“Okay,” he says softly. He has no idea if that will end up being true.

Louis pulls him against his chest and kisses the top of Harry’s head. Harry just leans against
him, wondering how Louis can be so good, so wonderful.

“Harry, what about, um- have you ever thought about suicide?” Harry tenses in his arms,
taking a sharp breath and shutting his eyes. “Harry, please just be honest with me.”

“There was um-” Harry’s voice cracks slightly, and he coughs. “Y-yeah, a bit, and there was
one time I kind of- I um,” His voice wavers, and Louis strokes his hair as he takes a few
breaths, “I almost like, did something, and I was um- I was on an overpass and I was, you
know, and then some guy pulled up and I stopped.” Harry’s trembling uncontrollably by the
end, and Louis is too.

“Harry, that’s not- that’s not an option.” Louis’ voice is firm, but fraught with emotion.
“Harry everyone would be devastated without you, you can’t think that that would be a good
idea.”

A sob escapes Harry’s chest, and he shakes his head desperately. “I thought that- that it would
be better, if I wasn’t here.”

“Sweetheart, no.” Louis’ voice is barely above a whisper. “Harry I need you, and Niall and
Liam and Zayn and Sophia need you, and your family needs you, and we all would be lost
without you, Harry, all of us love you so much.” Harry can’t bring himself to look up at
Louis, but he lets him rock him slightly as he holds him.

“I’m sorry-” Harry begins tearfully, but Louis shushes him.

“I know, sweetheart, you didn’t do anything okay? You’re gonna be okay, I promise you.”
Harry stares down, eyes burning with tears and exhaustion.

“You think you can sleep, love?” He must sense that Harry’s exhausted, too emotionally
drained to discuss this any further. Harry nods, and Louis stands up, placing a hand gently on
his back and guides him lightly into bed.

Harry crawls in first, pulling the covers up over his arms. When Louis settles in, he pulls
Harry so tightly against his chest, rubbing circles over his back.

“I love you so much, Harry, you have no idea,” Louis says softly.

“Thank you, Louis,” Harry whispers, “I’m so sorry-”

“Shh, I know, love, it’s alright.” Harry shuts his eyes, and when he finally falls asleep, every
part of him is weighed down by sadness.
Chapter End Notes

Not gonna lie I cried writing this but I'm glad we finally got to this part, idk if y'all love
me or hate me now.

Thank you so so so much for the kudos and comments, keep them coming!

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

 Chapter 17
Chapter Notes

This chapter is mostly filler/ the aftermath of the last one because there's a lot of stuff
that has to happen in the next few chapters and I wanted to focus on the few days after
the last chapter.

Trigger warnings: usual ones + some very brief smut so if that makes you
uncomfortable, let me know and I'll send you a version without it.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Louis wakes up first the next morning, a rare occurrence. Harry is still wrapped in his arms,
resting against his chest as he had been when they’d fallen asleep. Louis’ heart sinks again
when his gaze falls on Harry’s wrists, as if he had hoped that the night before had been a
nightmare. Louis stares at him sadly, heart aching as he wonders what to do.

Harry tried to kill himself. Louis can’t seem to process this, no matter how many times he
hears the words in his head, echoing over and over again as he tries to make sense of it. Harry
had been ready to jump off a fucking overpass and Louis had no fucking clue.

I thought that it would be better if I wasn’t here. Louis repeats the words over and over to
himself, trying to make sense of it and coming up short. He doesn’t understand how Harry
could believe that about himself, how he could see himself of anything short of perfect. God,
he feels so sick at the thought of it.

Carefully, he steps out of bed and heads into the bathroom. When he reenters a minute later,
Harry’s sitting up, looking exhausted.

“Hi,” Louis says quietly, giving him a small smile as he sits back down on the bed. Harry
stares down at the comforter, biting his lip. “How are you, love?”

“I thought you left,” Harry mumbles, glancing up meekly at Louis. Louis stares at him in
confusion before catching on.

“Just now?” Louis asks softly. Harry nods, swallowing. “Oh, baby.” Louis pulls him into his
arms and Harry sinks against his chest. Louis is infinitely grateful when he wraps his arms
around Louis, accepting the comfort. “I’m not gonna leave, baby, and especially not in the
middle of the night when you’re asleep and- and when you need me.”

“So you aren’t mad at me?” Harry whispers timidly, thumbing the fabric of Louis’ tee shirt as
a distraction. Louis squeezes his hand, brushing his wrist lightly.
“Of course not, love, why would I be mad?” Harry shrugs, bites his lip before looking to
Louis.

“I kept it a secret,” Harry says, barely audible. “And I was freaking out last night.”

“Hazza.” Louis’ voice is gentle but firm as he tilts Harry’s chin up so he’s looking at him. “I-
obviously, I wish you’d told me but I’m not angry that you didn’t, I… I know it’s hard,
sweetheart. And, baby, I’m never, ever gonna get mad at you for being upset. I would be a
terrible boyfriend if I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” Harry wraps his arms
tightly around Louis’ middle, burying his face in his shoulder. Louis holds him back, stroking
his curls gently.

“I don’t deserve you,” Harry mumbles, and from anyone else Louis might think it was an
attention seeking comment but it breaks his heart because he knows that Harry genuinely
believes it. He opens his mouth, but Harry’s speaking now, words rushing out as if he’s been
holding them in forever.“I just- I sometimes get scared that I’m not good enough for you, and
that- that you’ll get bored with me, and I never told you about my… problems because it’s so
disgusting and messed up and I just get so scared, Louis.” He takes a breath, swallowing. “I
need you so much,” he adds brokenly, shutting his eyes. “I’m sorry that was weird,” he adds,
almost fearfully.

Louis stares at him, astonished. He wants Harry to see that he is everything, that he’s all the
goodness and kindness in the world, the best thing in Louis’ life, that no amount of pain or
self hatred could make Louis stop loving him for one second. Louis removes one arm from
Harry so he can look at him, pulling him into his side and brushing his thumb lightly across
his cheek.

“I wish that you saw yourself the way you really are,” Louis says softly, “because then you
would know that there’s no one better for me in the world, and that there’s never been one
second when I’ve thought about leaving.” Harry stays quiet, but his hands are trembling.
“And Harry- look at me-” he pauses, cupping Harry’s chin. Harry looks up at him, eyes wide
and desperate. “This doesn’t make you disgusting or messed up. It just means you’re hurt,
and you’re gonna be okay.” Harry nods, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“Thank you so much,” he whispers. Louis presses a kiss to the top of his head, rubbing his
back.

“How are you feeling now?” Louis asks. Harry takes a sharp breath, shrugging and dropping
his gaze.

“Um…” he pauses, taking a shallow breath, and Louis squeezes his hand. “I don’t know…
tired. And worried. And sad.”

“I’m so sorry, love,” Louis says quietly, wishing he knew what else to do.

“I’m kind of relieved that you know,” Harry rushes suddenly, looking back up at Louis with
flushed cheeks. “It just… was hard, sometimes.”
“I’m glad I know too, sweetheart,” Louis says gently. He pauses, gingerly touching one of
Harry’s more recent scars. Harry winces, but he doesn’t flinch away. “And no one else has
ever seen anything? When you were in the hospital they didn’t do anything?”

“I, um, they aren’t required to, I guess, I checked once I got home ‘cause I was scared they
were gonna contact my mum,” Harry says softly, and Louis nods sadly.

“Baby,” Louis begins carefully, considering how to phrase this. “Harry, I told you I was
gonna help you and I am, I swear, but I don’t really know how to do this, lovely.” Harry stays
quiet, and Louis swallows when he pinches his own wrist, out of reflex, he supposes. Gently,
he reaches over to take his hand. “I think you should talk to your mum, love, and get
professional help-”

“No,” Harry snaps, much more sharply than Louis had anticipated. “I don’t want fucking
therapy, Louis.”

“Harry,” Louis starts tentatively, “you can’t keep being unhappy and doing this to yourself,
and I’m always gonna be here to help you but I’m not- I can’t fix this, baby.” Harry grits his
teeth.

“I can’t talk to a therapist about this and I don’t want to,” Harry says firmly. Louis bites his
lip, refusing to give this up.

“Just think about it, love, please?” Harry nods curtly, clearly signifying the end of the
conversation, and Louis sighs, deciding to table it for now.

“Are you ready to go downstairs?” Louis asks him softly. Harry makes himself smaller in
Louis’ arms, nodding.

“You promise you won’t tell them anything?” He says desperately, gripping the fabric of
Louis’ tee shirt. Louis sighs again, reaching forward to push a few curls off of Harry’s
forehead.

“Yeah, love, I won’t,” he says defeatedly. Harry nods, and Louis pushes himself off of the
bed, extending a hand to Harry.

“Lemme just…” Harry trails off, pulling the sweatshirt that he’d discarded on the floor a few
hours earlier. Louis swallows, realizing how many times Harry’s had to do that very thing.
Harry bites his lip as he straightens up, watching Louis from across the bed.

“You aren’t mad at me for… for doing this?” Harry says timidly, crossing his arms over his
chest. Louis is fiercely reminded of the shy, nervous boy who walked into that classroom six
months earlier and changed his entire life.

“No sweetheart,” Louis says gently, crossing the room to wrap his arms around him. He pulls
Harry against his chest, kissing the top of his head gently. “I’m mad at all the people who
made you feel this way, but never at you.” Harry swallows, looking up at Louis.
“Okay,” he replies quietly. Gingerly, Louis reaches to cup his chin, pulling him into a soft,
light kiss.

As they head downstairs, Louis locks his fingers tightly in between Harry’s. Everyone else is
already in the kitchen; Liam is standing at the stove with a box of Bisquik next to him as
Sophia and Niall and Zayn chat at the table.

“Hey!” Niall shouts as they enter, “We were wondering when you two would wake up, it’s
been ages.”

“You woke up ten minutes ago,” Zayn scoffs. shaking his head fondly, and Niall shrugs
nonchalantly.

“Sorry,” Harry says, grinning at them, and Liam waves a hand dismissively, gesturing to the
table. As they sit, Louis squeezes his hand, and Harry squeezes it back.

As they sit and talk to the others, Louis’ astonished, unsettled at how quickly Harry
transitions. He’s laughing and grinning with the rest of them, teasing Liam about the fact that
he tried to cook breakfast on his own and bantering with Niall. None of them would have
ever had any idea that not twelve hours ago, he was sobbing and shaking in Louis’ arms as he
recounted two fucking years of self harm addiction and a suicide attempt.

It’s so easy to hide.

Jesus Christ. No wonder it took two years for anyone to notice. Harry’s a terrifyingly good
liar. It’s heartbreaking to watch Harry laughing, a seemingly genuine smile plastered on his
face and eyes sparkling, knowing that he’s unhappy enough to try to kill himself, unhappy
enough to compensate for all the internal pain for two years by cutting into his skin.

“Alright, Louis?” Zayn says, snapping him out of his thoughts. Louis nods, giving him a
quick smile as he shifts closer to Harry on the bench. He almost wants to yell at them, to ask
Niall and Liam how they didn’t notice anything wrong for two years, ask Zayn how he sat
next to Harry in class every day for a year and never once considered the reason he wears
jumpers every day, but he did the exact same thing. He was probably worse than them; Louis’
his fucking boyfriend and he never suspected a thing, not when they were holding hands and
cuddling and sleeping in the same fucking bed all the time.

God, Louis hates himself so much.

After they finish, the six of them loiter around the house for a while as they put off the drive
home. Louis’ washing the plates, keeping an eye on Harry, who’s currently talking to Sophia
on the couch, when Zayn comes up to him.

“Hey, are you alright man? You’ve been weird all morning.” Louis stares at him, debating
what to say.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Louis mutters, dropping a fork irritably into the dishwasher. Zayn raises an
eyebrow.
“Bullshit,” he replies, “tell me what’s going on.” You didn’t notice that Harry’s not okay,
Louis thinks bitterly, and he knows how unfair it is to be angry at any of the others but he
can’t help himself.

“I’m really doing absolutely brilliantly,” Louis says shortly. Zayn stares at him for a moment
and Louis sighs, accepting that Zayn won’t move on.

“It’s not something I can talk to you about-” Zayn furrows his eyebrows, concerned, “-but
I’m fine, just worried about something that doesn’t involve me.” Zayn opens his mouth and
closes it again, frowning.

“Okay,” he says, squeezing Louis’ shoulder, “um, if you wanna talk later we can.”

“Thanks,” he replies, giving him a weak smile before heading back towards the living room
where everyone else is.

The six of them don’t really get themselves together until around four, having preferred to
lounge around in front of the plasma tv while emptying Liam’s uncle’s kitchen (“you guys
are gonna have to pay me back for that, you know”). By the time they’re pulling out, it’s half
six and the sky is glowing a soft orange color, the light bathing everything in a warm light.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, once they’re safely in his car and driving down the highway.
Harry looks at him, looking so small and vulnerable all of a sudden.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I’m okay.” Louis takes his hand off the steering wheel to squeeze
Harry’s, letting him know that he’s safe, and supported, and loved.

They’re fairly quiet for the majority of the drive, and Louis probably looks at Harry more
than he looks at the road. He needs him to be alright, needs to know that Harry will never
again be falling apart right in front of him while he has no idea what’s going on. A few times,
Harry catches him looking, and finally he speaks up.

“What?” he says, slightly irritated, and Louis swallows.

“Nothing,” he replies quickly, “you just look really nice.” Harry leans back in his seat, fixing
Louis with a hard look.

“You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me,” he says softly, “please, don’t make this
different than it was before.”

Louis sighs, because he knows that Harry’s right and that’s exactly what he’s been doing, but
he doesn’t know how to stop. Harry seems so fragile now, so vulnerable, and Louis’ half
convinced he’s going to try to off himself any day now. He stares at Harry, trying to decide
what to say, and finally he takes a deep breath.

“Love,” Louis begins, running his hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to walk on eggshells
around you, I just want to make sure you’re alright.” Harry lowers his gaze, and Louis
notices his fingers trembling ever so slightly.
“I am alright,” Harry replies, and Louis bites his lip. Harry takes a shallow breath, looking
back at Louis. “I just… you don’t need to treat me like some delicate, breakable thing,
okay?”

“Okay,” Louis answers seriously, “I’m sorry if it felt like that.”

Harry nods, and this time he’s the one who reaches for Louis’ hand.

After a while, they pull up in front of Harry’s house. They’re quiet for a few moments, as
Harry stalls on getting out of the car, until Louis reaches over to cup his face and kiss him,
gently and carefully.

“I love you,” Louis tells him sincerely, brushing a strand of hair off of his cheek, “can you
promise me that you’ll call if you need anything?”

“Yeah, I will,” Harry murmurs. He pauses, looking up at Louis with wide eyes. “I love you,
Louis, thank you.”

Louis pulls him into a hug, running a hand up his back. “I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?” Harry
nods, giving Louis a small, sad smile before opening the door.

Louis watches him until he gets inside, hesitating outside for about a minute just in case he
wants to return. Finally, he starts the car, beginning to consider the events of the last twenty
four hours again.

The moment Louis arrives at his house, he heads upstairs and pulls his laptop out. Fingers
quivering slightly, he types in “how to help someone recover from self harm”. He hesitates,
though, then deletes it because it’s not just self harm. It’s depression and self hatred and
anxiety and fucking suicide attempts, and even if Harry wasn’t cutting, Louis would still be
terrified beyond belief.

After a moment, he types “severe depression recovery,” having absolutely no idea what he’s
doing and praying for something, anything to help him to come up. As he scrolls through the
results, he becomes increasingly frustrated and disgusted- every fucking website is a link to
someone’s blog, or a step-by-step instruction kit on how to feel better. Louis wants to scream
- even with his lack of experience with mental illness, he knows that this is bullshit, that
nothing works like this and it isn’t that fucking easily. Eventually, he slams his computer shut
in agitation, burying his face in his hands.

He’s so scared. For the first time since last night, he allows the absolute fucking terror of the
situation wash over him. Harry’s unsafe, and unstable, and genuinely believes that things
would be better without him, genuinely wants to die. Louis has absolutely no idea how to
help him, how to make him know how important and wonderful and how fucking needed he
is, how much everyone, not just Louis, would fall apart without him.

Louis’ limited knowledge of mental health issues has taught him that recovery isn’t cut and
dry, it isn’t a matter of days or weeks or months. It’s ages of help and therapy and it’s not all
upward, it spirals up and down until you get to a peaceful, content place and are able to stay
there. It can be years of it, even with proper treatment and care.
Jesus Christ. Who is he kidding? He can’t help Harry recover from this anymore than he
could stop loving him.

***
The next few days are hard.

Louis does walk on eggshells just a little bit, he can’t help it. He’s terrified of doing
something to send Harry towards the razors, to trigger him even just a little bit, and he can’t
help it.

So Louis does everything he can. He checks his wrists constantly, he talks to him when
Harry’s willing to talk about it (which is very rare), he picks up his phone anytime he gets a
text from Harry. A few times, Harry’s reached out to him when he wanted to cut, and Louis’
by his side in an instant.

Still though, he doesn’t know if Harry’s still cutting just as often. He hasn’t seen his thighs
yet, and he honestly can’t always tell the difference when he looks at his wrists, and he’s
wracked with fear that he’s doing it as consistently as before.

But even with the constant worry for Harry, there are still good things. Harry’s still the same
beautiful, radiant person he’s always been, they still have the same routine they’ve had all
summer, Louis’ still unbelievably in love with him.

One of their better days comes a little over a week after Louis first discovered it. They’re on
Harry’s bed, Harry lying underneath Louis as they kiss, when Louis decides to take a risk.

“Can I suck you off?” Louis murmurs huskily, lips grazing his neck. Harry takes a sharp
breath, gripping the side of Louis’ neck.

“You- you want to?” Harry asks, voice high. Louis nods rapidly, pressing a long, firm kiss
just underneath Harry’s chin, enjoying the way Harry twitches with pleasure underneath him.

“Yeah, love,” Louis rasps, “only if you’re okay with it.”

“Y-yeah,” Harry gasps, wriggling slightly when Louis places a hand on his chest, trailing it
lightly down to his stomach. “Please,” Harry adds breathlessly, and heat pools in Louis’
stomach at the idea of it.

“Well since you asked nicely…” Louis positions himself so his head is level with Harry’s
hips, squeezing his thigh lightly, then lifts up the hem of Harry’s shirt, pressing a few soft
kisses to his stomach. “Tell me if you need to stop, love.” Harry’s already trembling with
anticipation, fingers pressing firmly into Louis’ back, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen
a prettier sight. Louis fumbles with the button of his jeans, tugging down his zipper and then
hooking his fingers inside the waist of Harry’s jeans.

“Louis-” Harry gasps suddenly, “-my thighs-”

“I know, baby,” Louis tells him, reaching up to squeeze his hand. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
Harry nods, swallowing, and Louis has to prepare himself for the worst when he begins to tug
down Harry’s jeans. Harry lifts his hips up from the mattress, pushing them down and
wriggling until he’s wearing only boxers. Louis pushes them off the bed carelessly,
swallowing a gasp when he first sees the cuts on Harry’s thighs. He was right, they are worse
there- so many more of them and much more recent, deeper and rougher. Harry’s eyes are full
of anxiety, though, and Louis pushes aside anything he wants to say right now. That can wait.

Instead, he leaves a trail of kisses up the inside of Harry’s thighs, until his legs are quivering.
“So hard already, love,” Louis murmurs as he grasps and the waist of Harry’s boxers, pulling
them down easily. He squeezes him lightly on the bum as he does so, causing Harry to let out
a breathy, high moan and buck his hips slightly.

“Alright?” Louis asks carefully, glancing up quickly.

“Yes, god, yes, please,” Harry replies breathlessly, running his fingers roughly through
Louis’s hair. Louis smirks, popping his lips wetly to tease him for a moment.

Louis starts off slowly, flicking his tongue quickly over the tip of Harry’s cock a few times.
Harry whimpers with pleasure, shaking underneath him, and God, he’s so fucking beautiful.
Louis grins, licks the vein on the underside of it just to hear Harry moan again, hips shaking
ever so slightly up and in a quick rhythm as Louis gets started. He’s already leaking precum,
and Louis’ reminded of just how little experience he has.

Harry’s whining inaudibly now, and Louis decides that he’s teased him enough. He pumps his
hand up the base of Harry’s cock as he locks his lips around the head of it, flicking his tongue
over it once more.

It’s been a long time since he’s sucked anyone off- he obviously hasn’t done anything since
he started dating Harry; since they met, even, and he always preferred to give rather than take
when it came to hookups. This is incredible though; Harry tastes fucking amazing, and his
pretty moans are worth it. Louis would pleasure him whenever, wherever, if he knew it would
make him happy.

Louis runs his fingers lightly over the base of his cock again, and Harry’s now pumping his
hips slightly into Louis’ mouth, and Louis enjoys it immensely. He moves his head slightly
so his mouth is over more of Harry’s skin, circling his tongue around where he can. Harry is
so close, he can tell; his hands are gripping Louis’ hair desperately and his eyes are screwed
shut in concentration, his head thrown back and his curls astray, his legs trembling
uncontrollably. His chest is heaving with high, shallow breaths, and a moment later he
manages to get a few words out.

“Lou- I’m gonna-” Louis nods, flicking his eyebrows up slightly to let him know it’s okay.
And Harry comes, shuddering with it and then collapsing back onto the mattress gasping.

Louis swallows; (Jesus Christ, Harry tastes fucking incredible), popping his lips off wetly.
Harry’s still laying against the pillow, breathing heavily, and Louis crawls up so their heads
are level, rubbing his hand across Harry’s bare stomach and watching him with fond, soft
eyes.
“Alright, lovely?” he asks, voice hoarse. Harry nods rapidly, eyes still shut as he reaches for
Louis’ hand.

“Lou that was so- so fucking good-” Harry’s still catching his breath, and Louis chuckles
quietly as his boy trembles slightly, regaining himself.

“Tasted fuckin’ fantastic, love,” Louis tells him. Harry’s cheeks redden even deeper than they
had been previously, and Louis reaches to run his fingers through Harry’s hair. “You’re so
fucking gorgeous, you know that.” Harry smiles, shuffling closer to Louis.

“Still kinda naked,” Harry mumbles, and Louis shrugs.

“We could shower,” he suggests, “or you could, if you don’t wanna do it together.”

“No, I do,” Harry reassures him, squeezing his hand, “yeah.” Louis grins, propping himself
up.

“C’mon, then,” he says, standing up, and Harry smiles as he follows him into the bathroom.
Louis tugs off his shirt, tossing it on the ground, then works with his jeans. When he’s pulling
off his boxers, he notices Harry watching him, eyes dark and glossy and cheeks pink.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Louis teases, and Harry blushes and looks away. “I’m
kidding, love, stare as much as you want.”

“You’re so gorgeous, Lou,” Harry tells him, biting his lips. Louis smiles warmly.

“Likewise,” he says. Harry pulls his own shirt off, kneading it with his hands nervously
before tossing it onto the ground. For a moment they stare at each other, before both smiling
almost shyly and glancing down.

Harry is so, so, so beautiful. Even with the harsh red marks staining his legs and arms, he’s
the most beautiful thing Louis’ ever seen, and he looks past the cuts as he starts the shower
and takes Harry’s hand, stepping into the tub with him.

“Can I wash your hair?” Louis asks him gently. The bathroom is already foggy, the hot water
rinsing over them, and Harry looks adorable with his hair lying flat around his face. Harry
nods, smiling, and Louis massages the shampoo in his curls, smiling when Harry giggles.

Everything’s okay, until he looks at Harry’s thighs again and his heart breaks. He wishes he
could love this away. He wishes he could do anything for Harry other than love him,
helplessly and desperately and unconditionally, to make him see that he deserves the earth
and the sky and everything in between.

But for right now, what he does is pull Harry tightly against his chest, letting Harry place his
arms around Louis’ shoulder and holding him, inadvertently swaying ever so slightly.
Eventually, Harry pulls away, curls hanging limp and damp around his face, eyes soft.

“You’re so beautiful,” Louis whispers truthfully, staring at him. He remembers their first
date, when he’d whispered the exact words into Harry’s neck, letting him know for what he
hadn’t yet known would be the first time of many. It was true then, and it’s true now, and he
thinks it’ll be true for him years and years from now.

“I love you so, so much Louis,” Harry says, voice trembling with emotion. Louis tilts his
head back gently, leans in to kiss him so softly, hoping everything he wants to say can be
understood through that.

They step out a few minutes later, and just lay together, cuddled against each other wearing
sweatpants and smelling like lavender shampoo. For a while, they just lie there in silence,
listening to the sound of the other’s breathing, until Harry breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry about my thighs, I know that was bad,” Harry mumbles. Louis takes a breath,
running his fingers up Harry’s arms lightly before speaking again.

“You have to stop apologizing for that stuff, sweetheart,” Louis tells him softly. “It’s not
gonna make me love you any less, or think you’re any less beautiful.” Harry snuggles closer
to Louis, swallowing. Louis debates for a moment asking whether or not he’s done it again
since Louis found out, but he doesn’t. It won’t make a difference right now, and he thinks that
he knows the answer anyway, even if it breaks his heart.

“Have you thought about professional help, love?” Louis asks carefully. He’s not sorry; he
blatantly refuses to drop the subject until he knows that Harry can get the resources he needs
to recover.

Harry sits up, eyes flashing with anger. “I’m not doing that, Louis.” Before Louis can reply,
Harry continues, “I don’t need a fucking shrink, okay? I’m not gonna talk about this.”

“Harry-” Louis begins gently, but he stops when he sees how hard Harry’s fighting back
tears. “Love, you alright?”

“Please, can we not talk about this?” Harry begs, eyes filled with desperation. “Just not right
now, Louis, I can’t.”

Louis looks at him sadly, eyes soft. “Okay, love, we don’t have to talk right now,” he sighs,
“but I’m not dropping this, okay?”

Harry gives him a half shrug, biting his lip. Louis reaches gently to pull Harry back onto his
chest, stroking his hair comfortingly.

He’s never going to be able to fix this himself.

***
Things are so hard.

Harry tries, desperately and frantically to stop hurting himself. He does tell Louis, a few
times, and Louis always shows up and holds him, talks to him until the urge has subsided.
Still though, he does it incredibly often, and he can’t bother Louis every time.

He finds other ways- either on the inside of his thighs or somewhere he can play it off as a
mistake. Sometimes, he ends up gripping the skin on his wrist or stomach hard enough for it
to bruise, which has the same effect anyway.

He hates himself so much. He’s lying to Louis and it’s disgusting, but he can’t stop. There’s
no way he’ll ever be able to stop, no matter how much Louis loves him or wants him too.
This is a part of who he is, and no matter how much he wishes he could stop or how much
anyone else wishes he would, it’s too embedded into him now to try to give it up. Sooner or
later, Louis will see that.

And he’s waiting for Louis to get tired too. No matter how perfect he is, no matter how many
times he promises Harry that he’s not leaving, Harry knows better. He’ll get irritated and fed
up with having to pick up Harry’s broken pieces all the time, he’ll realize it’s a lost cause to
try to fix him and he’ll leave, probably gently and carefully to minimize the amount of
heartbreak for Harry.

It doesn’t matter. Harry will be heartbroken anyway. And no matter how many times Louis
tells him he loves him, in the end it won’t matter.

***

Things are hard. Things are so, so hard; much more so for Harry then Louis, of course, and
things are still impossible for Louis.

He tries so hard. He texts Harry constantly (probably too much, by most people’s standards)
to make sure he’s okay; he checks his wrists every time they’re together, he leaves his phone
on the loudest ringtone all night so if Harry needs anything, he’ll be able to get to him. A few
times, Harry has reached out to him, telling him that he wants to cut, and Louis was by his
side within minutes, telling him things that he hoped would just distract him until the urge
faded. He’s not an idiot- he knows that someone who’s been doing this as much and as long
as Harry has won’t recover easily, and he’s half terrified that he’ll go to text Harry and find
out he’s swallowed a bottle of pills. It keeps him up at night.

He needs to talk to someone. He knows that their friends are out of the question, and even
though it’s killing him to keep it a secret he isn’t gonna break Harry’s trust. Still, though, he
needs someone’s advice, and one day about two weeks after he’d found out he finds himself
at his thirteen year old sister’s bedroom door, feeling incredibly foolish for what he’s about to
do.

“Hey, Lottie?” She looks up, mildly interested.

“Hm?”

“Uh, can talk to you about something?” Louis feels a bit ridiculous coming to his younger
sister for advice but then again, she’s the only person who he can really trust won’t make the
connection to Harry and besides, Lottie’s smart. He trusts that she’ll have some insight.

“What’s up?” she asks, pulling out her other earbud. Louis bites his lip, sitting tensely on the
edge of her bed.
 “Do you- have you ever had to deal with any of your friends like, not doing well
emotionally?” He takes a sharp breath, fully aware of how badly that was phrased. Lottie
raises her eyebrows.

“You mean like, them being upset-”

“No like… like mental illness type of not doing well.” Louis flinches slightly at the term, but
the fact is that depression, anxiety, all of this is mental illness, and he has to be able to deal
with it. Lottie grimaces.

“Yeah, my friends have had problems.” She pauses. “Why are you asking me, this?”

“I, um, I’m kind of friends with someone who’s doing like… not that well, and they cut
themselves-” Lottie winces, biting her lip, “-and I just wanted to know if you had any…
advice.” He grimaces almost sheepishly at her as she looks thoughtful.

“I mean, I had a friend who used to do that and she told me about it, and I had to tell mum,
who talked to her mum so she could get help.” Lottie hesitates, giving him a sympathetic
look. “I doubt that’ll work at your age though.”

She’s right- the two circumstances could not be further apart from each other. Louis expels a
sigh of frustration, biting his lip.

“Alright, thanks anyway Lotts.” He laughs humorlessly, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I
don’t suppose you have any other advice?”

“I mean, just be there for them, Louis, that’s all I can offer,” she says sadly. “Who is it?” she
adds after a moment.

“You don’t know them,” Louis lies, and she seems to buy it. She pats him on the shoulder in
pity, and he smiles weakly.

“They’ll be okay, Louis,” she tells him sincerely. Louis smiles at her, hoping desperately that
she’s right.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes

I'm so so so so sorry for the long wait, the holidays were killing me but I'm probably
back on a weekly updating schedule now.

Thanks as always Jane for betaing ily.

Trigger warnings: discussions of suicide and self harm and homophobic language.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Little by little, Louis thinks he begins to understand what Harry’s going through.

He learns, from watching Harry, that it isn’t all overwhelming, powerful sadness or sobbing
into your pillow at night. Sometimes it’s emptiness that nothing can fill, no matter how much
someone loves you. Sometimes it’s an indefinable anxiety or exhaustion that stems out of
nowhere and won’t disappear for hours or days at a time, that you can’t put into words
because even you have no idea what it is. Or it’s constant lack of energy and motivation,
preventing you from doing anything, or terror that everyone you love is going to abandon
you, or-

The list is endless, Louis learns, and he spends so much time thinking about it, that he barely
has room for anything else. Very, very slowly, Harry begins to talk about it for himself, and
Louis just listens as closely as he can, desperately trying to make sense of it all.

They’re sitting outside a cafe, side by side on a bench. Their shoulders and knees are
touching, and Louis is brushing his fingers again Harry’s every so often to make him smile.
Harry’s holding an iced coffee but he’s stirring his straw around in it, and Louis’ watching
him carefully.

“I get scared sometimes,” he says quietly, not looking up, “that people are gonna get tired of
me, or annoyed, and not want to be around me- Liam and Niall and Zayn and- and sometimes
you, you know?”

“No,” Louis whispers, voice desperate and firm, “I’m never, ever gonna get tired of you.”
And Harry looks up at him with pleading, scared eyes and Louis pulls him tightly against his
chest and pours every ounce of love he has into that hug, hoping it’s enough.

It isn’t.
They’re in the car; Louis’ driving Harry home from an afternoon all of them had spent at
Sophia’s house. Harry’s head is pressed against the window, and Louis only has one hand on
the steering wheel because the other is resting on Harry’s knee. Louis isn’t sure if he’s awake
or not, until he turns towards Louis, eyes cast downward and cheeks flushed, looking small
and vulnerable. Immediately, Louis perks up, looking at him expectantly.

“I get anxious a lot,” he says timidly, and Louis moves his hand from Harry’s knee to his
hand, squeezing it in encouragement. “About stupid things, and sometimes- it doesn’t happen
that often, but I’ve had, like, panic attacks, and they’re so bad, I can’t breathe or think until
it’s over, and I can’t do anything about it to make it stop, I just have to wait-“ he breaks off
with a deep breath, lifting his gaze to meet Louis’ eyes. Louis almost swerves out of his lane
because he’s staring so intensely at him.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Louis says quietly, gripping his hand. Harry nods, shakes his hair out of
his eyes with a shrug.

This must be what heartbreak feels like.

They’re in Harry’s room. It’s pouring outside, rain tapping the window pain harshly in a
steady rhythm, and Louis is kneeling on Harry’s bed as he texts Lottie that he’ll be home later
than he expected. They’d spent most of the day together, and Louis can tell that he isn’t hiself
right now. He glances up and Harry is staring at the window, eyes blank and glazed over.
Louis frowns at him, tossing his phone aside.

“Hazza? You okay?” Harry startles slightly, turning back towards Louis.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. Louis raises his eyebrows, and Harry shrugs. “I kinda wanna cut,” he
says timidly. Louis swallows, opening his arms and gesturing for Harry to come towards him.
Harry crawls into his lap, and Louis tightens his arms around him.

“Why?” Louis asks softly. Harry squirms slightly, shrinking in his arms.

“I feel really bad that we fought earlier.” He’s referring to a small argument they’d had a few
hours before, when Louis had been irritated at him for not responding to his texts or calls
earlier that day, and he’d snapped at him, mostly out of worry. Guilt rises in Louis’ chest, and
he combs his fingers through Harry’s curls soothingly.

“Baby, hey,” Louis nuzzles his shoulder until Harry looks up at him, eyes wide. “I’m sorry I
snapped at you, you didn’t deserve it and I really, really didn’t want to make you feel bad.”
Harry nods, biting his lip.

“It’s not that, just-“ he pauses, tugging at the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah?” Louis presses, nodding encouragingly.

“It’s stupid,” Harry begins, voice trembling, “but every time me and you fight, I feel like
that’s gonna be the fight that makes you wanna leave. And it’s- it’s like that with everyone,
for me.” Louis cradles Harry against his chest, rocking him gently.
“Nothing we could ever fight about could ever make me want to leave,” Louis tells him
softly. Harry nods, face concealed in Louis’ shoulder, and Louis hopes that somehow, he can
make Harry see that he’s telling the truth.

He doesn’t think Harry believes him.

It’s close to two am, and they’re laying in Louis’ bed. Neither of them are asleep, but they
aren’t talking; Harry’s chin is on Louis’ chest and Louis is running his fingers gently up
Harry’s arms. Moonlight is peaking through the curtains, washing them in a dim, white light,
filling the room along with the silence until Harry breaks it.

“I wanted to die so so badly before I met you.” Harry’s voice is barely audible, laced with
fear, and Louis freezes. “I thought about it so much even after that one time, but I didn’t try
anything again because I was afraid of failing, and making it worse.”

Louis closes his eyes, presses his lips to Harry’s temple. “Do you still want to?” he whispers,
voice trembling.

Harry’s silence is the worst confirmation of all. Louis tilts his chin up so he’s looking at him,
and his eyes are shut tightly, clearly in an effort not to cry. Louis shakes his head desperately,
running his fingers through Harry’s curls as he waits for him to say something.

“I thought- sometimes it’s like- I’m so hurt, that that’s how it’s always gonna be for me, and
that’s- that’s the only thing I deserve, and all the good things I have are temporary-“ the
words are spilling out now, along with his tears, and Louis rubs circles over his back as he
waits patiently for Harry to finish.

“You deserve so much, Harry,” Louis says shakily when Harry doesn’t say anything else. His
effort to fight back tears proves futile, but he continues anyway. “You’re the best person in
the world, you deserve- you deserve to be so happy, and safe, and- and you should know how
loved you are, and how wonderful, and beautiful, and perfect you are.” Harry presses his face
into Louis’ shirt, shoulders shivering with tears, and Louis wants so badly to be strong for
him, to help him, but all he has is his desperate, unconditional, useless love for Harry, and
that can’t fix a single fucking thing.

“You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met,” Louis continues, unsure of where he’s going but
suddenly needing to continue. “You’re so, so wonderful, baby, you’re so- so kind, and
charming, and funny, and radiant, and you’re so fucking beautiful, baby, and you’re just-
you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me-“ he’s rambling now, he knows it, but he’s
not going to stop until he gets everything that he needs to out. “You don’t deserve any pain at
all, and I’m so so sorry that you’ve had to go through so much, and I just- fuck, Harry, I
would do anything for you, to make you happy.” Louis takes a breath, swiping at his eyes
quickly.

Harry’s completely quiet for a few moments, clinging to Louis until he swallows and looks
up at him. “I love you so much,” he mumbles, eyes shut. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“You can’t imagine how much I love you,” Louis replies softly. “I would have no idea what
to do if I didn’t have you.”
There are more conversations, too; Harry tells him about cutting for the first time, about the
first moment he thought about suicide. Louis learns that he used to cut once for each of the
things that he’d been called- “faggot” and “worthless” and “fucking pathetic”, all of the
terrible, untrue things that people had brainwashed into believing about himself. Louis tries
to compensate for them with beautiful, gentle truths- “lovely” and “perfect” and “strong”
(because he is, he’s the bravest person Louis’ ever met) but he knows that even if they can
make Harry smile momentarily, it isn’t enough.

It’s infinitely harder for someone to learn to love themselves again then it is for them to hate
themselves the first time. The damage has been too deeply imprinted in them to be erased
with a few compliments and kisses. You can’t love pain like this away, no matter how much
you’re willing to give up for them.

Louis thinks that he might give up everything in the world for Harry to be okay, without a
second thought.

But he still does what he can, in between hushed, tearful conversations where Harry spills the
horrors of the last two years to him. He holds him impossibly close against his chest,
whispers “I love you”’s and “It’s going to be okay”’s into his hair when he needs to be
cuddled. He lets Harry cry, when he needs too, rocks him until his shoulders have stopped
shaking and he can breathe properly again, stays with him until he knows that he isn’t going
to do anything self destructive.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Love isn’t a medicine for mental illness, and Louis can’t provide
him with anything that is.

He has an incredibly selfish thought one night, after he’s dropped Harry off at his house.
He’d just finished kissing him until his cheeks were flushed with pleasure and he was
giggling against Louis’ lips, because he’d clearly been sad and Louis wanted to cheer him up.
He stares bitterly out the front window of his car and wonders why he isn’t enough to make
Harry happy, what he could be doing wrong as a boyfriend so that he’s still so unhappy. And
he knows it’s wrong and unfair to Harry and to himself to think that, but he can’t help but
wonder. He’s done everything to try to help him and it still hasn’t made a fraction of a
difference.

He knows that the answer is that Harry has been too hurt for too long to be able to recover
this quickly, even if he were getting proper treatment and care. It comes back to the same
thought he’s had since the beginning - someone else finds out and helps him, or he doesn’t
get help at all.

It’s a heavy thought to fall asleep to.

***
Harry, on the other hand, continues to do the only thing he knows he can do, which is lie.

He tells Louis the truth about how the last two years have been for him. It’s something of a
relief, really, to finally spill the things he’s kept trapped inside for so long, that had started
destroying him from the inside so long ago. Louis listens so patiently and understandingly,
holds him so that he feels safe, tells him that he’s beautiful and that he doesn’t deserve this
and that he isn’t going to leave.

(Harry doesn’t believe a single word of it; not because he thinks that Louis’ lying, but
because he knows that it’s impossible. There’s too much bad inside of him for him to be
worthy and deserving of love, especially from Louis. In the end, that is what’s going to win
out.)

But he also tells Louis he’s stopped hurting himself, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
He’s replaced most of his cutting with bruising, usually on his thighs, and even though it
doesn’t quite have the same clean satisfaction that cutting does, it’s still enough. He’s very
careful with it, though, and even more so when he does slip up and end up back with the
razors, which is far more than he’d ever admit.

And god, he hates himself so much. Every time he finishes hurting himself there’s the disgust
with what he’s doing to Louis, someone who never ever deserved to get dragged into this,
someone who’s tried so hard to prevent the very thing that Harry continues to do. He knows
it’s a matter of time until he gets discovered again; Harry hasn’t undressed in front of Louis
since the first blowjob, but he’s waiting for Louis to initiate something again, and he knows
he’ll be suspicious when he says no. He loves Louis so fucking much - a damaged, broken,
desperately needy love but nonetheless, love, and the betrayal that he’s going to cause him is
almost more than he can bear to think about.

(Ironically, the thing that helps him when he starts to panic about that is the pain).

He wishes so badly that he could stop, if not for anything else than so Louis is proud of him.
But it’s between the self harm and honesty and in the end, the pain is the only thing that’s
permanent for him. When Louis eventually leaves, he’ll still have that.

***
It’s been about a month since Louis first found out about Harry, and he hasn’t seen him all
day, a rare occurrence. They’ve sort of fallen into a pattern, long before Louis found out
about his cutting, where Louis will pick him up in the car and they’ll drive somewhere, a
restaurant or theater or park, and the day will end with one of them staying at the other’s
house. Louis wouldn’t change a thing.

Today, though, he’s home alone in his kitchen; his family had left for dinner earlier, and
Harry’s visiting with his mother and Gemma, when he gets a call from Zayn. Sighing, he
picks up.

“Hey,” he says tiredly.

“Are you doing anything right now?”

“No,” Louis says after a moment of consideration.

“Good,” Zayn replies, “meet me at the skate park.”

“I don’t know, man…” Louis says weakly. He hears Zayn sigh on the other end, heavy and
irritable.

“Louis I haven’t seen you.” He pauses. “And you’re always with Harry and like, I get it, man,
I’m with Niall a lot too, but c’mon. It gets a little annoying when you keep blowing the rest
of us off.”

“I’m not blowing you off-“ Louis starts heatedly, and Zayn snorts. Louis scrubs a hand across
his face, feeling a slight twinge of guilt. He’s been so wrapped up in trying to help Harry that
he hasn’t even thought about the others in days, their needs seeming insignificant in
comparison.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” Louis finally says defeatedly.

“See you there, mate,” Zayn answers happily, before ending the call.

Louis arrives there a few minutes early, sinking against the wall towards the back as he waits
for Zayn. The air is thick and humid, not a particularly enjoyable night to be spending outside
in an empty parking lot, and he suddenly feels impossibly irritated and tired. When Zayn
pulls up a few minutes later, Louis gives him a weak, forced smile as he approaches.

“Do you have anything to smoke?” Louis asks as soon as he’s in earshot. Zayn frowns,
unimpressed.

“No, should I have brought something?” He says carefully, almost accusatory. Louis
grimaces and shrugs. “I thought you quit.”

He’s right about that- it’s been ages since Louis’ smoked a cigarette and even longer since
he’s gotten high, but he’s suddenly desperate for something, anything, to help him calm
down. He shrugs again, staring blankly past Zayn, and Zayn fixes him with a skeptical,
serious look.

“Alright, tell me what’s going on, then.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis says haughtily. Zayn purses his lips.

“Don’t give me that, Louis, there’s obviously something bothering you.”

Louis rolls his eyes, tightening his jaw. “I’m fine, Zayn.” Harry isn’t, though.

“I haven’t heard from you in days, Louis, and when I’ve hung out with you you’ve been
distracted and worried. You’re really irritable and you’re asking to fuckin’ smoke something,
which hasn’t happened in months.” Zayn fixes Louis with a stern, concerned look. “Tell me
what’s going on.”

Louis stares at him, the heaviness of the secret weighing on him. Zayn looks back at him with
pleading, desperate eyes, willing him to say something.

“It’s Harry,” he says softly, guilt settling in his stomach because of what he’s about to do.
Zayn’s eyes widen slightly, and he nods encouragingly.
“You two didn’t break up?” Louis shakes his head, casting an almost offended glance to him.
“Mark, then?”

“No-” Louis rakes a hand over his face in frustration, gritting his teeth. “He fucking cuts
himself, Zayn, he told me he wanted to die,” Louis finally spits out, voice strangled. Zayn
takes a sharp breath, biting his lip and bringing a hand up to his mouth as it sinks in. His eyes
are filled with bewilderment and guilt and Louis can see the puzzle pieces falling into place
for him the same way it had for Louis a few weeks before as he makes sense of everything.

“He tried to kill himself,” Louis whispers brokenly, shaking his head. “I’m so fucking
scared.” Zayn sighs, heavily and sadly, and moves closer to Louis.

“Oh, god, Louis,” Zayn says softly, voice laced with fear. All Louis can do is nod helplessly
and shake his head bitterly, at a loss for what to say. “I didn’t know-”

“Yeah, no shit, Zayn,” Louis says flatly, huffing out a bitter laugh. “None of us knew.” His
initial anger dies almost immediately though, and he drops his head into his hands.

“How long has he been, like, suicidal?” Zayn winces sharply at the phrase and Louis
swallows, blinking rapidly and taking an unsteady breath.

“Two fucking years.” Louis runs a hand through his hair, watching Zayn’s reaction. Zayn just
stares back at him, completely at a loss for what to say.

“And no one knew?” Louis shakes his head, curling his fingers into a fist and then collapsing
helplessly against the wall, exhausted. “Not even after he tried to kill himself?”

“He was gonna jump off a bridge,” Louis replies flatly. “No one ever found out.” He stares
stoically at Zayn for a moment and then doubles over, face buried in his hands with a dry sob.

Zayn, being the best friend that he is, wraps an arm around Louis, waiting for him to
straighten up. When he does, Zayn stares at him apologetically, gripping both of his
shoulders.

“I just want him to be okay,” Louis whispers, more to himself then to Zayn. “I love him so
fucking much, I’m so scared he’s gonna- gonna do something else to himself, and-“ he breaks
off sadly, staring pleadingly at Zayn, begging him for an answer.

Zayn takes another sharp breath, biting his lip and tightening a hand sympathetically on
Louis’ shoulder. “I don’t- I don’t know anything about this stuff, Lou, I just- he has to know
that if he ever- if he killed himself, all of us would be ruined right?” Zayn is just as desperate
as Louis, shaking his head in astonishment and staring emptily at the ground.

“He hates himself, Zayn,” Louis says, as if he can’t believe it, because he can’t really. He
doesn’t understand how someone as lovely and wonderful as Harry could think so little of
himself. “He said that he thinks we’d be better, if he were gone.”

“But- but me and you- and you know that Liam would blame himself, and Niall would be so
distraught-“ Zayn is almost as hysterical as Louis had been, and Louis just watches him with
a dark grimace.

“I know,” he mumbles, “it doesn’t make sense though, he’s not thinking clearly.” Zayn stares
at him in a stunned, horrified silence, shaking his head bitterly.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” Louis mutters after a few moments, “so if you could like-
not tell the others, and not act weird around him-“ Zayn nods hesitantly, following it with a
long sigh.

“I wish we could help,” he mumbles quietly, “haven’t you suggested therapy, or meds, or
anything like that?” Louis nods tiredly.

“He wasn’t open to it,” Louis answers flatly, crossing his arms. Zayn nods, disappointed but
not the least bit surprised.

“I’m so sorry, bebs,” he says softly, pulling Louis into a hug. “He’s gonna be okay, right?”

Louis leans into his embrace and doesn’t answer.

He’s so focused on trying to fix Harry, though, that he starts to forget about his own
problems, until it’s too late and disaster strikes One night they’re sat on Louis’ couch, Harry
tucked protectively under his arm, head resting against his shoulder as the movie “Titanic”
plays in the background. Harry’s entranced by the movie (it’s his favorite, Louis’ known for a
long time, and he’s willing to suffer for three hours if it makes Harry happy), and Louis’ so
wrapped up in him that he doesn’t register the sound of a car pulling up or the door clicking
open, until he hears Mark’s voice behind him and his heart stops.

“What’s this?” he says harshly, and Louis more or less shoves Harry away from him in panic.
Harry has the same reaction- he practically jumps away from Louis, eyes wide and anxious as
he realizes what they’ve done.

“I, um-“ Louis racks his brain for an excuse, coming up short. “You know my friend Harry,
right?” he finally says lamely, gesturing awkwardly to Harry.

“Hi, Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry says meekly, running a hand through his curls. Louis bites his lip
as he sees Harry reach immediately for his sweatshirt, praying Mark hadn’t noticed anything.
Mark doesn’t break his gaze as he stares at the two of them, as though waiting for some kind
of reaction. Both of them wait with baited breath as they look back at him.

“What were you two doing?” he finally says icily. Harry and Louis exchange a brief glance
before Louis clears his throat.

“We were just watching a movie…” It crosses his mind that perhaps Titanic is not the most
platonic-seeming movie for two teenage boys to be watching together, and Mark seems to
agree with this. Louis pauses it quickly, and Mark’s eyes linger on Jack and Rose, frozen on
the screen in an embrace, before turning back to Louis and Harry who not two minutes earlier
had been in the very same position.
“I should be going,” Harry stammers, gaze fixed fearfully on Louis. Louis nods, standing up
and gesturing for him to follow.

“I’ll take you, then-” Louis starts nervously, but Mark interrupts him.

“I’ll drive him,” Mark says suddenly, eyes trained on Harry. Louis can see how nervous
Harry looks, and he wishes he could reach out to comfort him.

“It’s, um, it’s honestly fine, if you don’t want Louis to drive then I can call my mom, I
wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Harry stammers, trailing off and shrinking slightly under his
harsh gaze. Louis wants to comfort him so desperately, but he forces himself to take a breath.

“I’ll ride with you, then,” Louis intervenes, locking eyes with Harry and giving him a small
nod. As if he would ever leave Harry alone with him. Mark glares at Louis, looking like he
might argue with him, but he gives him a curt nod before gesturing for them to follow him.
Louis glances over at Harry, whose eyes are full of panic, and gives him a reassuring smile
even though his heart is racing too.

They slide into the back of Mark’s Porsche, leaving a seat in between them because Mark is
still paying attention to them. Louis can sense how scared Harry is, how much he’s worrying
about this, and he wants to reach over and squeeze his hand, but he can’t and besides, he’s
absolutely terrified as well. The car is silent for a few minutes, until Mark speaks up and
Harry and Louis both jump.

“So, Harry,” his tone is drawling, almost mocking, and Louis’ stomach turns unpleasantly.
“How did you say you two know each other again?”

“English class,” Louis speaks up, and he sees Mark’s eyes flash in the mirror.

“Can he not speak for himself?” Harry swallows, and Louis tenses up in anger because he
knows how much anxiety that statement will cause him and he can’t tolerate the idea of Harry
beating himself up because of a comment that Mark made.

“Yeah, we um- we met in English, like Louis said,” Harry stammers. Louis gives him a small
nod, to let him know that what he’s doing is okay, and Harry replies with a weak smile.

“Are you the person that Louis’ been spending so much time with this summer, then?” Mark
presses, voice cold. Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat, pressing his thumb into his wrist,
and Louis has to clench his hands to avoid reaching out to stop him.

“Y-yeah we’ve hung out a bit…” Harry mumbles, faltering when Mark turns around to look
at him. “We’ve been with a few of our other friends too…”

“Which ones?” Mark says sharply, causing Harry to flinch ever so slightly. Louis bites back a
scathing remark, instead fixing Harry with what he hopes is a calm, mildly interested glance.

“Um, I don’t know if you know them but, uh, Liam Payne, and Niall Horan, Zayn-“ Mark
scoffs dismissively at Zayn’s name, and Louis grits his teeth.
“So you two spent a lot of time together… with your friends.” Louis and Harry exchange a
terrified glance before he continues. “What were you all doing together? Must have been very
exciting, if it took up so much of your time.” And in that moment, absolute terror sets in for
Louis because Mark knows. He can see it in the tight smirk on his face, the way he’s gripping
the steering wheel in anger. He knows, and everything is going to fall apart because of that.
Harry obviously recognizes this, and he looks almost as distressed as Louis.

After what feels like ages, they pull up in front of Harry’s house. He gathers his bag, sharing
one more concerned look with Louis before clearing his throat.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Tomlinson,” he says softly, voice slightly higher than usual.
Mark nods and waves a hand dismissively, gesturing for Harry to leave.

“I’ll see you soon, mate,” Louis says awkwardly, as Harry opens the door. Despite the
seriousness of the situation, Harry suppresses a laugh at the nickname, which relaxes Louis
ever so slightly.

I’ll call you, Louis mouths, and Harry nods, giving him a small, almost shy smile before
shutting the door gently. Louis takes an unsteady breath before turning back to Mark, bracing
himself for the worst.

To his surprise, and nervousness, Mark doesn’t say another word for the rest of the drive
home. Louis isn’t sure how to read this - they’ve never talked, and he prefers it that way, but
still, any kind of reaction would help him determine where he stood right now. Instead, the
silence is tense and heavy, the air around them seeming full of friction and fragile, as if a
single movement or sound could shatter it. Louis doesn’t relax until they’re home, and he
steps out of the car and heads upstairs without a word. He doesn’t relax until he’s on his bed,
fingers shaking slightly as he dials Harry’s number.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hello?” His voice is uncertain, trembling slightly, but
Louis’ never been more relieved to hear it.

“Hi, love,” Louis says softly, voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Louis, I’m so sorry if I screwed that up, I don’t want- I really don’t want to have fucked that
up for you-“

“Hazza, it isn’t your fault,” Louis says wearily. “He hasn’t said anything to me so maybe-
maybe we’re okay.” It’s a pointless argument, but Louis forces himself to believe it.

“What are you gonna do if he does find out, though?” Louis swallows at the question,
because he realizes he has no fucking clue. He’s spent the last few months assuming that
Mark would never find out and he’s out of luck. He has no plans now, no idea what he’s
going to do if Mark forces him out of the house.

“I don’t know, babe,” Louis says quietly. Faintly, he hears the front door swing open and then
the chatter of his sisters. “I gotta go, love, my mum and sisters are home.”

“Okay,” Harry says reluctantly. “Please keep me updated, alright?”

“Of course.” Louis hesitates a moment before hanging up. “Baby, please don’t hurt yourself
over this, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry says quickly. Louis takes a breath, pushing his hair out of his face.

“I love you,” he says gently.

“Love you too,” Harry repeats, and Louis ends the call.

Things seem okay, though, and so Louis lets his guard down. He lets himself forget about it,
relax, even, until two days later.

He comes home around eleven, returning from a quick dinner with Harry and the boys. To his
dismay, Mark is sitting at the table, jaw clenched, staring intently at Louis.

“Can I help you?” Louis says irritably, nervousness bubbling in his chest. Mark laughs
darkly, shaking his head bitterly, and Louis’ stomach drops.

“I talked to a friend of mine,” Mark says slowly, not looking away. “He works at your school
and he told me, interestingly, that the reason you were suspended wasn’t for protecting a girl.
It was to defend Harry Styles.” He spits the name out, waiting for Louis’ reaction. Louis
tenses up, gritting his teeth.

“Well your friend must not know much-“ Louis begins wildly, and Mark gives him a
withering look.

“Shut up, Louis,” Mark says darkly, and Louis heart skips a beat. “I know that you two are
fucking fags.” Louis tenses, fingers curling into fists at the slur, but he stays silent. “You’re a
disgrace, Louis, I want you out of this house before tomorrow.”

“You can’t do that,” Louis says hoarsely, head spinning in desperation. “You can’t kick me
out, you aren’t the only one in this house-”

“This is my house, and I won’t have a faggot living under my roof!” Mark snarls, eyes
flashing. Louis takes a shallow breath in panic, trying to figure out what he can do and
finding nothing but sheer terror. A moment later, while Louis is still grasping desperately for
a plan, the door clicks open and Louis’ mum enters.

“Mark? Lou?” She looks between the two of them, surprised and concerned. “What’s going
on?”

Mark laughs cruelly, grimacing. “Johanna,” he begins, lips curling in a snarl, “did you know
that your son is gay? Or did he keep it a secret from everyone?” Jay pales, staring at Louis in
horror.

And suddenly this is all too much for Louis to handle; he pushes past his mother, heart
pounding. The two of them are shouting now, but he ignores it; instead he races down the
stairs and into the garage, frantically climbing into his car and turning the key.
 Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s on the highway, headed towards the only person who
he knows will calm him down.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 19
Chapter Notes

Hello darlings-

this hasn't been betaed yet so sorry for any mistakes/awkward sentences, I'll fix them
later.

Usual trigger warnings!!!

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Before he knows what he’s doing, before he takes a moment to breathe or relax or try to
figure out a logical, realistic plan, Louis’ stumbling up Harry’s steps, chest heaving and
shoulders shaking. He presses the doorbell, falling against the wall and dropping his head
into his hands. A moment later, the door swings open, and Harry’s there, wrapped in an
oversized sweater and sweatpants and looking confused. He frowns, cocks his head as he
stares at Louis, brows furrowed in confusion and concern.

“Louis? Are you alright?” He says softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Louis huffs out
a bitter laugh, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Can I um-” he swallows, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Can I come in?” Harry nods
rapidly, pulling the door, and Louis walks in.

“Come upstairs,” Harry says, grabbing his hand. Louis doesn’t protest, and he lets the
younger boy tug him up the stairway and lead him into his room before shutting the door, too
disoriented and preoccupied to decide whether this is a good idea.

“Louis what’s going on?” Harry says seriously, turning to face him.

“Mark knows Harry.” Louis swallows, shaking his head frantically. “Oh, god, he- he figured
it out and he’s- this is so, so bad Harry.” He’s almost hysterical now, pacing the room with his
hands crossed over his chest, choking out a few disbelieving laughs. Harry bites his lip, eyes
full of fear.

“Lou are you okay?” he says quietly. Louis snorts, speeding up his pace and bringing his
hands up to the back of his head.

“He’s gonna kick me out,” Louis says, and he’s talking more to himself now then to Harry.
“He was fighting with my mum when I left, he said he was gonna kick me out.” He pauses
briefly to glance at Harry, who looks heartbroken. “I should just leave, right? I could get out
of town before he did anything- if you wanna break up with me, it’s okay-”

“Louis!” Harry interrupts firmly, but Louis doesn’t respond. When he continues to pace,
Harry crosses the room, placing his hands on Louis’ shoulders. Surprisingly, Louis halts,
blinking a few times as he looks down at him.

“Look at me, Lou,” Harry says seriously, reaching up to touch Louis’ chin lightly. “Your
mum isn’t gonna let that happen, and even if it did you wouldn’t have to leave, okay? You
could come live with me- or Zayn or someone if you didn’t want that, but you’ll be okay,
alright? You have too many people who care about you to let that happens.” Louis swallows,
reaching out tentatively to put his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry blinks, keeping his gaze
on Louis, sincere and intense.

“Haz-” Louis coughs, taking a breath. “Harry I don’t know what to do, he has so much power
over her-”

“No, Louis she loves you more than him.” He says it like it’s a fact, like he knows it for sure,
and Louis can almost believe it. “You know your mum would never let that happen, right?”

“But it’s not- it isn’t just that, Harry.” Louis collapses onto the bed, and Harry sits next to
him, touching his shoulder gently. “He’s a fucking asshole, yeah, but he pays for everything,
the house, the girls, so they can’t split up either.” Louis expels a long breath, looking
desperately at Harry.

Harry hesitates a moment before answering, rubbing a hand up Louis’ arm. “Louis, your
mum’s really smart and great, she could easily make money herself-” Louis bites his lip, and
Harry continues after a brief hesitation to see Louis’ reaction. “-and there’s no way you guys
would just be left with nothing, there’s divorce negotiations and everything. And you don’t
know that they’re splitting up, she could convince him to be nice to you or he could come
around-” Gently, Louis reaches over to put an arm around Harry, who doesn’t stop talking.
“But it’s gonna be okay, Louis, I promise.”

Louis stares at him for a brief moment, eyes full of emotion, until he wraps his arms around
him and lets out a breath, relaxing into the warmth of his hug. It’s easy to forget how strong
Harry is, sometimes, and he reminds himself to remember this. Harry is braver and more
logical than most other people Louis knows.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks when he pulls away. Louis grimaces and shrugs, tangling his
fingers in Harry’s curls as a distraction.

“I can’t tear apart my family, Harry,” Louis whispers hoarsely. Harry shakes his head, curls
bouncing, before looking back at Louis.

“You wouldn’t be doing that, Louis. Your family loves you so much, and your sisters and
mum would never ever let you leave.” Harry’s almost pleading for Louis to understand, and
Louis’ eyes soften as he stares at him.
“Harry-” Louis pauses, biting his lip, “-Mark’s an asshole, and a horrible person, but he’s my
sister’s dad. And not only that, he pays for everything, we would have nothing if he wasn’t
supporting us.” He hates to admit it, but it’s all true.

Harry hesitates for a moment before speaking again. “Maybe, even if they split up, he
wouldn’t stop supporting you?” Louis frowns skeptically. “Seriously, Louis, that would be
really bad for his image and stuff so maybe he’d wanna keep helping you? And they’re his
daughters, he won’t- he won’t just leave them, you think?”

“He’s a horrible fucking person, Harry, he isn’t above that,” Louis says bitterly. Harry
swallows, rubbing Louis’ arm gently. “He hit me once,” Louis spits out without thinking, and
Harry snaps his head up, alarmed.

“What?” he says seriously, staring at Louis. Louis swallows, wincing and rubbing his neck
uncomfortably.

“It, uh- it was a while ago, but I came home with a tattoo and it was really late and I was
drunk and he- wasn’t happy,” Louis finishes lamely, glancing back at Harry. His eyes are full
of disbelief and sadness, and Louis feels guilty.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Harry whispers. Louis cocks his head, raising his eyebrows
until Harry blushes and glances down, realizing the irony of the question. “Okay, fine,” he
mumbles, looking back up a moment later. “But still, Louis, that’s really bad.”

“It was only one time,” Louis points out, and now it’s Harry’s turn to raise his eyebrows.
“Okay, yeah, it was bad,” he admits, “but-” He’s cut off by the sound of his phone going off,
and his heart skips a beat when he sees it’s his mom. Harry nods, encouraging him to answer
it, so Louis takes a breath and picks up the phone.

“Hello?” he says, voice soft and cautious. Harry grips his hand, and he squeezes back for
support.

“Louis, where are you, darling?” His mom’s voice is quiet and higher than usual, and Louis
knows she’s trying to keep it steady.

“I’m at Harry’s.” He pauses for a moment, hearing her sigh on the other end. “Mum I’m so
sorry-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetie,” she says, and her voice is sad and exhausted. “Does
Harry mind if you leave? I just want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can come.” He exchanges a quick glance with Harry, who nods rapidly. “I’ll be
there soon.”

“Alright,” she says softly, “I love you.” With that she ends the call, and Louis shoves his
phone back into his pocket and stands up, touching Harry’s chin gently.

“I’ll call you after I talk to her,” he tells him, and Harry nods. “I love you, baby, thanks for
this.”
“Yeah, of course,” Harry says earnestly, “you always do it for me. Just stay safe Louis, and
make sure you call me afterwards, okay?” Louis smiles fondly down at him, nodding in
reassurance and bending down to give him a quick kiss before walking out, casting one last
long look towards him before rushing down the stairs.

He speeds on his way home, desperate to find out what had happened. When he arrives, every
light is off, causing an unsettled feeling to rise in Louis’ chest. Marks car is gone, too; he
doesn’t know if he should be relieved or afraid about that.

“Mum?” he calls softly when he pushes the door open, squinting in the darkness. He hears a
cough from the kitchen, and strides towards it to find her at the kitchen table, eyes red and
dark makeup smeared.

“Hey, baby,” she says quietly. Louis swallows thickly, taking a seat across from her and
fixing her with a concerned look.

“Mum, what happened?” he says seriously, fixing her with a concerned look. She takes a
breath, shaking her head as she reaches across the table for Louis’ hand.

Her voice is surprisingly steady when she speaks. “Well, after you left, Mark asked me if I
knew that you were dating Harry. I told him I did, and he asked me how I could lie to him.”
She pauses, pursing her lips. “And then he asked me how I could- ‘accept’ that, which,
darling, of course-”

“Mum, don’t worry, I know you’re not homophobic,” he reassures her hurriedly, giving her a
small smile. She blinks, laughing softly.

“Alright, well, I told him that I would always accept you, and he said that he wouldn’t let you
live with us.” She bites her lip, and Louis nods, letting her know it’s okay to go on. “I said I
wouldn’t let him do that, and he said it was between you or him.” Louis shuts his eyes,
stomach dropping. “I’ll always choose you and the girls over everything, Louis.”

“I’m so sorry,” Louis whispers, voice quivering.

“Louis, this should have happened a long time ago,” she tells him, squeezing his hand and
giving him a tearful smile. “Mark and I- we haven’t had a good marriage in a very long time,
and this proved to me that it wasn’t meant to be anymore.”

“Mum,” Louis says urgently, “what are we gonna do? Is he gonna try to get the house, and
the bank account and everything?” She runs a hand through her hair, shutting her eyes briefly.

“I don’t know about any of that, love,” she says honestly, grimacing at him. “I’ll have to talk
to him about it, and we’ll have to go to court, but he’s letting us stay here for now, so we’re
okay for a little while.”

“Where’s he going?” Louis asks, voice hard. He pushes away the bubbling anxiety about
what’s going to happen after Mark stops ‘letting’ them stay in their own house, because that’s
not the most important thing right now.
“To his place in London, I imagine,” she says flatly, shaking her head looking almost
disappointed. “You should get some rest, darling.”

Instead of informing her that he’s eighteen and it’s barely twelve, Louis nods and gives her a
quick hug. “Love you, mum,” he tells her, “thank you for… everything.” He hopes she hears
the sincerity in his voice.

“I love you too, darling,” she says softly, brushing his hair out of his face. “Goodnight, baby.”
He nods, trudging upstairs, exhausted.

He calls Harry as he climbs into bed, wanting to let him know that everything’s ok.

He picks up almost right away. “Hello?” his voice is sleepy and almost slurred, and it makes
Louis smile.

“Hi, baby,” he says quietly, “everything’s alright, pretty much. They’re probably splitting up,
but I think we’re okay for now.” For now. That’s what matters. For the first time, relief
washes over him as he realizes how lucky he had gotten.

“Lou, that’s really great, I’m so happy.” He sounds genuinely relieved. “I told you.”

“Yeah, you did,” Louis says warmly. “Thanks, love.”

“Why’d you think I was gonna break up with you?” Harry asks softly.

“I wasn’t thinking properly,” Louis tells him. “But now you know how I feel when you say
that to me.”

There’s a long pause, and all Louis can hear is Harry’s shallow breaths. “Oh,” he finally says,
very softly.

“Try to get some sleep, okay love?” Louis says after a moment, clearing his throat. “I love
you.”

“I love you too,” Harry says drowsily, and Louis can’t help but smile at the image of him
tucked into bed, eyelashes fluttering as he attempts to stay awake.

“Bye,” Louis says warmly, before ending the call and collapsing onto his pillow, determined
to push away every bad thought that pops up.
***
The first few days after that are rough.

First of all, his mom is left with the task of explaining to the girls what’s happening. She
leaves it until about three days after they’ve decided to split, after the two of them have had a
few more icy, tense conversations and agreed that this was the best decision. Lottie
understands, figures out the reasoning behind it pretty quickly. She approaches Louis
afterwards to hug him and let him know that she thinks their mother made the right choice,
and Louis has never loved his sister more.
The other girls, though, are still too young to understand, and it’s heartbreaking to watch
them. No one wants to explain to them that their dad had decided that punishing his step son
for being gay was more important than staying with his daughters, but he really doesn’t
deserve to be defended either, so Jay is forced to tell them the usual: sometimes married
couples don’t work out, and they’ll still see him all the time and not much will change. Even
though he hasn’t dropped by once to see them. Even though Lottie’s informed Louis that
she’s texted him to ask what’s going on and he’s ignored her. Louis didn’t think it was
possible to hate him more than he already did, and he was proven wrong again.

He can see the toll it’s taking on his mother too. One night, he overhears her on the phone
with him, trying to negotiate the divorce- who gets the houses, what percentage on the
money, custody of the girls. He can’t quite make out what’s being said, but it’s all muffled
and muttered in low voices, and he doesn’t get any information until a few minutes after she
hangs up. He heads into the kitchen only to find her slumped over the counter with her head
in her hands.

“Everything okay?” he asks cautiously, knowing full well that if it was, she wouldn’t look
like this. She startles, and when she looks up Louis’ surprised but relieved to find she isn’t
crying.

“Yeah, poppet,” she says, taking a sharp breath. “It’s just hard for us to agree on certain
things.” Louis represses an eyeroll.

“What’s he doing now?” Louis asks flatly, expecting the worst. His mum sighs, smoothing
her hair out of her face and turning to busy herself with the dishes.

“Well, he’s offering for us to keep this house and custody of the girls if he gets the other
summer homes and ninety percent of our savings.” Louis grits his teeth. “I think we’ll be
okay though, darling, I’m working on it.”

“You think there’s gonna be a court case?” Louis asks briskly, taking a breath to avoid
launching into a rant about Mark. She shakes her head, giving him a small smile.

“No, I think I can figure it out.” Louis wishes he had her optimism.

But he doesn’t, nor does he have any control over the situation, so he does what he can to
forget about it- he spends more time than usual with his sisters (to their delight, Harry often
joins him), he helps out his mother with basic household tasks and cooking, and he spends
time with the boys, all of whom have been unbelievably helpful. After he told them, each of
them stepped up and offered to help them out in any way they could, and Louis was reminded
again of how good his friends were.

After a little more than a week, the initial dread and shock begins to wear off, and Louis
allows himself to worry less and less about the potential problems regarding the divorce. The
boys have all clearly been worried about him, because one day the four of them and Sophia
insist on all meeting up at a coffee shop to hang out.

Louis doesn’t mind, though, and he’s happy to spend time with everyone. He picks up Harry
before arriving, and when he does the four of them are already crowded in a corner, Niall
perched on Zayn’s lap in an armchair and Liam and Sophia huddled close together on the
couch.

“Aye! Tommo! Harry!” Niall shouts when they enter, earning a few dirty looks from other
customers. Harry laughs at him, and Louis catches a brief glimpse of Zayn watching him,
eyes worried and sympathetic. Swallowing, he greets the others brightly, determined to make
sure that everything looks like it’s alright.

“You want me to order for you, love?” he asks Harry, once they’ve settled in. To everyone
else, Louis assumes it looks like some kind of couple quirk they had, but he knows how
anxious Harry gets talking to cashiers and he desperately wants to help him. Harry smiles
gratefully.

“Iced-”

“-mocha with extra whipped cream,” Louis finishes, delighted when Harry blushes and
smiles. “I know you.”

He heads to the line, ordering quickly and hoping to get back to the others when someone
taps him on the shoulder. He turns to see a guy about his age, vaguely familiar looking, and
after he blinks a few times he recognizes him as Luke, the last guy he dated properly before
Harry.

Fuck.

“Louis!” Luke says cheerfully, patting him on the arm with far too much enthusiasm. “Wow,
it’s been forever, man, you look great!” Louis grimaces weakly, casting a look over to the
corner to make sure Harry isn’t watching.

“Hey,” he says shortly, hoping to give him a hint. Instead, Luke smiles, leaning against the
counter.

“Wow, how’ve you been?”

“Eh, alright,” Louis replies, deciding not to return the question. He looks slightly put off, but
clearly doesn’t mind too much, because he keeps grinning.

“We should catch up some-”

“Oh, sorry, my drink’s here,” Louis interrupts him impatiently, nodding gratefully to the
barista. “See you around.” With that, he turns and heads back to Harry, hoping that Luke got
the message.

When he gives Harry his coffee, he also greets him with a long kiss that leaves him giggling
and leaves Niall to mock them ruthlessly. And right then, Louis is so content and everything
is so good.

It doesn’t last, of course. After they’ve been sitting there for some time, Luke approaches him
again, while he’s still sitting with everyone else. His arm is thrown over Harry’s shoulder and
they’re sitting right up against each other, clearly not a platonic position, but he chooses to
ignore this. Sophia trails off in the midst of what she’d been saying, and all eyes fall on him.

“I didn’t get the chance to give you my number earlier,” Luke begins, and Louis feels Harry
tense up beside him. He stares at him, astonished, eyes flitting between Luke and Harry.

“I didn’t ask for your number,” Louis replies coldly, tightening his jaw. “I have a boyfriend.”
Luke glances carelessly towards Harry, noticing him for seemingly the first time. He smirks
ever so slightly, raising his eyebrows at Louis. Louis’ gaze hardens, and he tightens his arm
around Harry’s shoulders.

“I don’t remember you being into twinks. No offense, mate,” he adds to Harry. Louis stands
up, placing his hands on the back of the couch and scowling at Luke.

“Get out of here,” he says darkly, daring him to argue. Luke clearly gets the message, and he
raises his hands in mock innocence as he steps away.

Louis sits back down, still bristling, and places his arm around Harry again. “He’s such a
fucking prick,” he announces loudly to the table, stealing a glance at Harry. He’s biting his
lip, bouncing his leg nervously, and Louis squeezes his hand.

“Yeah, maybe, but he sure wasn’t ugly,” Niall states, and Louis shoots him a warning look.
“Seriously mate, that’s your ex? He was fuckin’ fit.”

“Shut up, Niall,” Louis says through gritted teeth, sensing how uncomfortable Harry’s
growing.

“Watch out, Harry,” Niall teases, and even though Louis knows he’s joking and he’s
absolutely clueless, he has to hold himself back from saying something else. Zayn, though,
clearly senses what’s going on and straightens up, concerned.

“Shut up, Niall,” he says seriously, glancing quickly towards Harry. Niall rolls his eyes and
says something about Zayn being jealous, but Louis isn’t paying attention because at the
same moment, Harry stands up and mumbles something about the bathroom.

Louis considers going after him for a moment, but decides against it since it will only look
suspicious to everyone else. Still, though, anxiety rises in his throat as he wonders if he’s
crying, how much what Luke and Niall said really affected him.

A moment later, a horrible thought lodges itself into his head; Harry may have gone in there
to cut himself. Louis takes a sharp breath, glancing towards the door; he has no idea if he had
a razor on him, but there’s a very good chance he does. Harry emerges a about two minutes
later, wrists completely hidden by sleeves and eyes glassy, brighter than usual. Louis
swallows, wrapping an arm around him tightly, and flinching when Harry doesn’t lean into it
the way he usually does.

“I should go,” Harry says after a moment. Liam frowns.

“No, don’t leave,” he insists, eyes wide. Harry gives him an apologetic smile.
“I should really get home,” he argues. Louis grits his teeth.

“I’ll walk you out, love,” he says, plastering on a smile. Harry pales but doesn’t argue, and so
he allows Louis to take his hand and follow him outside.

“Harry,” Louis says quietly, once they’re far enough away from the crowds. Harry spins
around, cheeks pink and eyes bright.

“What?” he snaps, voice quivering. Louis stares at him stoically, waiting patiently for another
response.

“Did you just hurt yourself?” he asks, firm but gentle. Harry crosses his arms.

“No,” he says defiantly.” When Louis continues to stare at him, he looks away. “So what,
Louis, you could go talk to your ex about it.”

“Harry, I-” Louis blinks, bewildered, “I told him to fuck off, didn’t I? I’m not going to cheat
on you-”

“You might as well!” Harry shouts, causing a few people to turn. “You can’t fucking fix me,
Louis, so you should just stop trying.”

“Harry I’m not gonna stop trying to help you,” Louis whispers, all traces of hostility gone. “I
love you-” When Harry doesn’t react harshly, he steps forward and wraps his arms around
him tentatively, relieved when Harry falls into it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Louis shoulder, shaking slightly in his arms.

“It’s alright, babe,” Louis says, soft and reassuring. “I just- sweetheart you can’t cut yourself
every time-”

“What?” A voice says from behind them, rising with hysteria, and Louis spins around to see
the other four standing there with varying looks of shock and horror. “Harry, you cut
yourself?” Niall whispers, appalled.

Louis swallows, turning back to Harry, whose entire face has gone pale. He stares at them,
clearly lost on what to say.

“Harry, this has to be a fucking joke,” Liam says, laughing humorlessly.

“Liam, don’t,” Zayn says warningly, and Harry takes a sharp breath.

“He knew?” Harry says darkly to Louis, who stares back at Harry, regretful and scared. Harry
shakes his head bitterly before shoving Louis away from him, and turning the corner.

Before Louis can consider going after him, Liam grabs him by the arm. “Tell us what’s going
on,” he says, voice dangerously low.

Louis casts his eyes down, exhaling heavily. “He cuts himself,” he says softly, “and he’s
really, really not doing well.”
“Not doing well?” Niall says unsteadily, horror written all over his face.

“He tried to kill himself a while back,” Louis tells him flatly. Sophia brings her hands to her
face in shock and Niall turns around, collapsing against the wall and burying his face in his
hands.

“How long has he been like that?” Liam says, and his voice is barely audible.

“Two years,” Zayn mumbles. The other three look towards him.

“You knew?” Niall says, sounding almost betrayed.

“I just found out, kinda by accident,” Zayn mutters. Liam buries his face in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god, two years.” He huffs out a bitter, angry laugh. “Niall, we didn’t know
for two fucking years.”

Niall is already on the verge of tears, and he just shakes his head in disbelief. “When did you
find out?” He looks directly at Louis.

“Like a month ago, when we went to Liam’s uncle’s house.”

“Alright, I’m going over to his place,” Liam says, voice still fraught with horror. “Niall?”

“No, just give him some space.” Both of them turn to stare at Louis with hardened
expressions. “Look, he’s just not gonna want to talk about it now. You can call him, if you
want, but don’t just show up at his house unannounced.” Liam watches him for another
moment before slumping against his car, defeated.

“What do we do?” he says softly. Louis shakes his head, wishing he had any sort of answer.

***

Harry ends up at the same overpass he tried to jump off of nine months ago.

He’s not there on purpose, but it’s in the same direction as his house and he just stops, leaning
against the rail. He isn’t upset or panicked right now; instead, he feels heavy with emptiness,
everything having been drained from him.

His phone buzzes continuously in his pocket, and he checks it briefly to see texts from Liam
and Niall, along with a couple of missed calls. He shoves it back in his pocket, resisting the
urge to pitch it off the bridge.

He doesn’t know why he isn’t jumping himself right now. He doesn’t think he could bear to
disappoint Louis like that, after he’s tried so hard to help him. Harry almost wishes he would
leave, now; stop making Harry feel guilty for putting him through all of this, leave him with a
final reason to just kill himself and finish it off without too much guilt.
And suddenly he’s crying, harder than he can remember having cried since the day Louis
found out about his cutting, as he’s hit all at once by the events of the day. He’s hurt all of his
friends, and the person he’s in love with, and right now, all of them are blaming themselves
for his own stupidity. That might be worse than if they would just decide to walk away, not
bother getting mixed up in all of his emotional baggage.

He’s interrupted suddenly by the sound of a car slowing to a stop beside him, and he jumps
slightly when someone steps out. He can’t quite make them out until they move closer, and
he sees it’s Zayn.

“Hey,” he says softly, thrusting his hands in his pockets. Harry swipes a hand furiously across
his cheek, but it’s a wasted effort, and it’s obvious he was crying already. Zayn walks towards
him, leaning against the fence beside him. “You okay?”

“How’d you know where I was?” Harry says instead, not answering the question.

“I was actually going to your house, I didn’t think I’d find you here.” Zayn glances around,
seeming to take in the fact that they’re on an overpass, alarm clouding his face. “Harry you
weren’t here to- you know-”

“No,” Harry replies flatly, and Zayn seems to relax ever so slightly.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asks timidly, breaking the short silence.

“Niall and Liam are at Liam’s place, I think, Sophia had to go home.” Harry nods numbly,
only able to imagine what the conversation topic is there.

“So are you okay, H?” he repeats, and Harry almost wants to laugh. Instead, he shrugs and
bites his lip, training his eyes on the road below.

“Louis told you?” he says hoarsely, face hot with shame. Zayn sighs, wrapping an arm
around Harry’s shoulders tentatively.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know you’re mad at him, and you have a right to be, but just so
you know I kinda forced it out of him.” Harry nods blankly, and Zayn continues. “He felt
really bad about telling me, but he was scared, and he wanted to know how to help.” He
pauses. “All of us do.”

Harry huffs out a bitter laugh, shaking his head desperately. “I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey man.” Zayn leans away, looking directly at Harry. “No need to be sorry, bebz,
you’re having a hard time. We all just wanna be there for you.”

Harry is so, so glad he knows Zayn. He suppresses another sob, taking a few breaths. Zayn
keeps an arm tight around his shoulders, waiting patiently for a response from him.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it right now,” Harry mumbles, pushing his damp curls out of
his face. Zayn nods seriously.

“I won’t make you.” They’re quiet for a moment. “Niall and Liam and Sophia wanna talk to
you too, they’re really worried.”
“I know,” Harry whispers, swallowing. He wonders briefly what they’re doing right now;
whether they’re blaming themselves or trying to understand it, and guilt washes over him
again.

“Louis wants to come get you,” Zayn adds after a moment, and Harry squeezes his eyes shut.

“Yeah, alright,” he says finally, swallowing. Zayn is quiet for a moment, before he reaches
over to rest a hand gently on Harry’s shoulder.

“I know that you’re mad at him, for telling me, and you have every right to be-” Harry looks
up, blinking through the tears that are still blurring his vision, “but just- he loves you so much
Harry, it’s kind of insane, so just keep that in mind.”

“Okay,” Harry says softly, not bothering to argue with him. “Thanks,” he adds after a
moment, and Zayn pats him gently.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He leans against the railing, thrusting his hands into his pockets and looking
over at Harry. “Hey, if you need anything, mate, you know you can always talk to me.” Harry
gives him a small, grateful smile, nodding quickly.

“Thank you,” he repeats quietly, and Zayn smiles at him.

Zayn hovers around for the next few minutes until Louis arrives. When he does, Zayn gives
Harry a fast, tight hug and waves briefly to Louis, clearly wanting to give the two of them
privacy. Louis waves back before approaching Harry, almost tentatively, and leaning against
the rail next to him.

“Hey,” he says quietly after a brief pause, brushing the top of Harry’s hand with his thumb.
Harry turns to look at him, waiting expectantly for him to continue. When he doesn’t, Harry
sighs and looks away again.

“You told Zayn.” It isn’t a question, or even an accusation, really, but his voice is laced with
betrayal and iciness, and Louis bites his lip.

“Yeah. But Harry, I- I’m so sorry, baby, and I know it was wrong of me, I just- I was so
scared, and I wanted to help you but I didn’t know how to do it myself.” He watches Harry
closely, face contorted in worry.

“It’s okay,” Harry replies after a moment, anger deflating. “I get why you did it.”

“Really?” Louis says, surprised, and Harry nods.

“Yeah, I mean- I know you were just trying to help, so…” He trails off, locking eyes with
Louis. Louis reaches around him, pulling Harry into his side, and Harry falls against him
without a moment of hesitation.

“Thank you, love,” Louis says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. Harry
swallows, shifting nervously in his arms.
“What, um- what did everyone else say?” he mumbles, closing his eyes. Louis’ silent for a
brief moment, tangling his fingers gently in Harry’s curls to reassure him.

“Everyone was scared, baby,” he finally says, “they were all just really worried, and really
upset that they hadn’t found out already.” Harry nods, blinking rapidly to prevent tears from
forming again. Guilt settles heavily in his chest, and he has to take a few breaths before
speaking again.

“They weren’t, like- freaked out?” he asks timidly.

“No, baby,” Louis tells him, “they all wanna talk to you, I think.”

“Yeah, they were calling me,” Harry replies blankly, sighing.

“You can’t ignore them forever, sweetheart,” Louis says, voice gentle and kind. Harry nods,
cheeks heating up.

“I know, I just couldn’t do it right now,” Harry explains, pleading for him to understand.
Thankfully, he nods, not pressing the subject any further.

“Love, you weren’t here to like- jump, right?”

Harry flinches, shaking his head. “No,” he answers. “I promise,” he adds quietly, and when
he meets Louis’ eyes their soft and full of sympathy and heartbreak.

“Okay,” Louis says wearily, “but let’s get out of here, yeah?” Harry nods briefly, walking
slowly to the car and sinking into the passenger seat, exhausted.

“Is anyone at home right now?” Louis asks, driving carefully.

“No, my mum’s working late tonight,” Harry answers, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Do you want me to come over?” Louis asks, without a moment of hesitation. As Harry casts
him a long, fond look, he wonders how he got so lucky.

“Would that be okay?” he asks, almost shyly, and Louis smiles warmly at him as he nods
back.

Having Louis there helps. They make popcorn and curl up to watch a marathon of Bob’s
Burgers, and as Harry stares blankly at the screen it’s easy to numb his mind. After a while,
Harry’s eyes start to burn from fatigue, and Louis obviously notices.

“You wanna go to bed?” It isn’t particularly late, but Harry’s exhausted. He nods, and Louis
helps him up.

“You sleeping over?” Harry asks drowsily, as Louis places a hand on his back to guide him
upstairs.

“If you’ll let me,” Louis answers, and Harry nods.

“I think you have a pair of pajamas here already,” Harry tells him, propping the door to his
room open. Louis nods, striding over to Harry’s dresser to grab a pair for himself and Harry.
He tosses a pair of boxers and a tee shirt over to him, which Harry puts on quickly.

“Can you pass me some sweatpants?” he asks nervously. He’d momentarily forgotten the cuts
and bruises on his thighs now; they’re too prominent to pass off as old ones, too many of
them to be a mistake.

“It’s so hot in here, love, just sleep in boxers,” Louis suggests, and Harry’s heart drops. He
turns a moment later, concerned.

“Let me see your thighs,” Louis says softly. Harry bites his lip, shaking his head. “Harry,”
Louis whispers in a broken voice.

He walks over to him slowly, and Harry doesn’t protest. He shuts his eyes as Louis pushes
the end of his shorts up, just enough to reveal the injuries, stark and on full display.

“You told me you were okay,” Louis says, voice trembling as he looks up, “you said you
stopped hurting yourself.” Harry makes himself smaller, crossing his arms over his chest as
he shakes his head rapidly. “Harry why wouldn’t- why wouldn’t you tell me this?”

“I didn’t want you to- to worry about me,” Harry whispers, tears already pricking his eyes.
Louis huffs out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he stands up and crosses the room.

“Yeah, great job with that, Harry,” he says flatly, raking a hand through his hair. Harry
swallows a sob, shoulders shuddering as he lets his head fall to his chest.

“Harry…” Louis whispers, voice gentle now. Harry lifts his head slowly, timidly meeting his
eyes.

“You can go, Louis,” Harry says, barely above a whisper because he’s fighting to keep his
voice steady. “I know you said you weren’t but I’m not- I understand, you deserve to leave if
you want.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry!” Louis says sharply, and Harry flinches. “Hazza,” Louis adds softly,
touching him lightly on the arm. “Harry, baby, I’m not- I’m so in love with you, and I’m not
gonna break up with you. Please, baby, you have to understand that. I can’t tell you that
enough times.” Harry blinks quickly, looking up to meet Louis’ eyes which are filled with
desperate sincerity, begging for Harry to understand.

“Okay,” he chokes out softly. Louis isn’t leaving. He wonders again what Louis could
possibly see in him, why he’s still trying so hard for something that’s so clearly a lost cause,
and he wants to ask him but Louis’ talking again now.

“Baby, you can’t keep doing this to yourself and not telling people. It isn’t safe, or healthy.”
Harry nods, not pointing out that ‘safety’ has never been his main priority.

“C’mere, love, let’s get in bed,” Louis suggests gently, placing a hand gently on his back.
Louis climbs in right after him, draping an arm over his chest so they’re facing each other.
“You should’ve told me, Harry,” he sighs, brushing his fingers lightly over Harry’s arm. “I
mean, we’ve talked about this, love. You told me you were okay.” Harry flinches at the way
his voice breaks towards the end of the sentence, curling closer into his side.

“I don’t know how to stop,” Harry says truthfully, chest tightening. “And I just- I wanted you
to be proud of me.” He nuzzles closer into Louis’ chest, not wanting him to know that he’s on
the verge of tears.

“Look at me, baby.” Louis pushes him gently away from his chest, tilting his chin up so he
can see him. “I’m so proud of you, Harry. I’m so proud of you that you’ve stayed strong for
as long as you have, and for talking about this, and for trying to get better. You should never,
ever doubt how proud I am of you, baby, just like you should never doubt how much I love
you.”

So much for not crying. Harry laughs softly, giving Louis a tearful smile as he snuggles
closer to him.

“And baby, I’m not gonna stop being proud of you if you admit you aren’t okay, ‘cause you
need to tell me that, alright? You can’t hide this stuff, it’s not good for you.” Harry nods,
smiling when Louis reaches over to brush a tear away.

“Louis?” Harry says quietly.

“Yeah, love?” Louis answers, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Would it be okay if I just- thought about therapy, maybe?” Louis snaps his head up, staring
at him, and Harry continues rushedly. “Just think about it,” he adds firmly, glancing
nervously up at his boyfriend.

Louis’ whole face is so warm, filled with love as he stares down at Harry. “Yeah, baby, of of
course. Harry that’s so, so great; take as much time as you want, okay?” Harry nods, touching
his forehead lightly against Louis’ as he reaches to touch Harry’s hair.

“What made you change your mind?” Louis murmurs, thumbing at a piece of Harry’s shirt
absently. Harry wriggles slightly so he’s more comfortable, taking a breath.

“I just- I just really don’t want to feel like this anymore,” he mumbles sadly, voice strained.
Louis rubs a hand over his back, biting his lip as he watches Harry.

“You won’t, baby, you’ll be okay,” Louis whispers forcefully. Harry just nods, moving closer
to Louis and shuddering.

“Thank you for everything,” Harry says, voice hazy with exhaustion. “Thanks for staying
with me, and helping me, and loving me.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” Louis tells him gently, “I love everything about you, I
couldn’t leave if my life depended on it.”

Harry hums contently, relaxing into the safety of his arms. For the first time in as long as he
can remember, maybe in his life, he allows himself to consider the slightest possibility of
 recovering; not being broken like this, frozen in constant emptiness and sadness. It’s almost
draining to imagine it, considering how distant and unreachable that seems.

He has to try, though, He melts into the warmth of Louis’ arms and tells himself that he’ll try.

Chapter End Notes

wow i ended on a somewhat happy note how unlike me is that.

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

 Chapter 20
Chapter Notes

I'm the worst person of all time I'm so sorry for last week, I've just been buried in
midterms and haven't had the chance to do anything.

This hasn't been betaed yet so like..... if there are any mistakes or weirdly phrsed
sentences I'm so sorry and I'l fix it.

But, here you go! Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Harry finally rises the next morning, still heavy with exhaustion, Louis isn’t in the bed
anymore. For a moment, his chest clamps, throat tightening as his mind races with conviction
that Louis has left, for real this time. He relaxes a moment later when he hears muffled noise
downstairs, a distant clang of what’s probably plates followed by very clear, loud swearing,
unmistakably Louis. He laughs softly to himself, shutting his eyes and leaning against the
headboard, taking a breath.

Harry brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself and biting his lip.
Absently, he runs a finger along his wrists, wincing at the texture but forcing himself to
continue. He swallows the disgust that rises in his throat as he looks at them, reaching to
pinch the skin out of habit.

Then he remembers his promise to Louis, to tell him when he needed him, and he buries his
face in his hands instead. It’s quiet downstairs again, and he feels irrationally lonely wrapped
in the silence of his own house. Taking another sharp breath, he stretches and steps out of
bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants but leaving his arms exposed, since it’s only Louis.

He pads downstairs, peering into the kitchen. Louis is standing over the oven with his back to
Harry, staring intently at a thick cookbook propped on the counter.

“Lou?” Harry says after a moment, and Louis spins around, surprised.

“Oh, hi, love, I didn’t hear you.” Harry can’t help but smile in amusement at the image in
front of him- Louis’ dark tee shirt is dotted with flour, face flushed, hair sticking up.

“What happened to you?” He asks, heading towards him. Louis grimaces and rubs his neck.

“Well, I was gonna make pancakes…” He pauses, swiping at his forehead with the back of
his hand, and for the first time, Harry notices the dripping spatula. “...but there were some
technical difficulties.” Harry snorts, examining the damage. There’s flour and batter smeared
across the counter, and Louis reaches over hastily to wipe it up.
“What was the crash?” Harry asks curiously, and Louis grimaces.

“I tried to flip one of them in the air and the pan fell,” he mutters, and Harry bursts out
laughing. Louis scowls teasingly at him for a moment before breaking into a grin.

“It’s working now, though!” he adds cheerfully, and Harry giggles when Louis gestures
enthusiastically to the pan, where two hopeful pancakes are sizzling. Harry leans forward to
rest his chin on Louis’ shoulder, but Louis turns to face him to pull Harry against him,
cupping his chin gently and tilting it upward.

“Hi, love,” he says, voice raspy and gentle. Harry smiles shyly at him, nuzzling into his chest.
“How’re you?”

“‘m alright,” Harry murmurs, hooking his arms tightly around Louis’ shoulders. Louis rubs
his back in circles for a few moments, pulling away only to proudly place the finished
pancakes on a separate plate and smile at him.

“Have you checked your phone?” Louis asks, almost cautiously. Harry frowns.

“No, it’s dead. Why?”

“The lads and Soph wanna see you today,” Louis says after a moment. When Harry bites his
lip, Louis’ reaching for him immediately, strong arms tight around him. “Love, I promise it’s
gonna be alright, they just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he whispers reassuringly, pressing
a few chaste kisses trailing from Harry’s forehead to his neck.

“What should I tell them?” Harry asks in a small voice. Louis pauses, brushing his fingers
lightly through Harry’s curls.

“You should tell them the truth, I think, love,” Louis answers thoughtfully, “that you, you
know, aren’t really okay right now.” Harry’s throat tightens, and all he can do is nods,
pressing his face into Louis’ tee shirt again.

“You know we love you, right?” Louis says firmly, lifting Harry’s chin so that he’s facing
him. “All of us love you so much, babe, and all of us are sticking around.”

“Niall and Liam are gonna be mad,” Harry mumbles, more to himself than Louis. “They’re
gonna think it’s their fault, or something-”

“I mean-” Louis bites his lip before continuing carefully, “it’s really hard not to think that,
you know? Like- like I think all of us feel that a bit, just like- like we all could’ve prevented
it?” Harry screws his eyes shut, swallowing thickly. “Baby, it’s not your fault, you have
nothing to feel guilty about,” Louis says soothingly, immediately pulling him close again.
“C’mon, we don’t have to talk about it right now, let’s just eat, yeah?” Harry nods wordlessly,
blinking rapidly before exhaling and looking back at Louis. Louis leans down to kiss him,
ever so gently, before reaching behind him to pull out a chair for him.
Louis’ almost nervous when he places the plate in front of Harry, tapping the table in
anticipation for him to try it. “You really care about this, huh?” Harry says, smiling, fond and
amused.

“Hey, I made this just for you, I want you to like it!” Louis replies defensively.

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast,” Harry points out, slowly drizzling syrup over it just
to annoy Louis. He shakes his head, shrugging before placing a hand gently on Harry’s
shoulder.

“Well I wanted to make you happy,” Louis says, and Harry feels his chest tighten. Cheeks
warm, he reaches for Louis’ hand, relaxing when Louis squeezes it back. “Now c’mon,
you’re killing me,” Louis jokes, gesturing anxiously to the plate.

So Harry tastes it, and it’s surprisingly passable. He tells Louis it’s amazing though, just to
see him grin with pride before bending down and pressing a kiss against Harry’s cheek. As
Louis busies himself with cleaning, he fills the silence with stories about his sisters or
pointless complaints, clearly desperate to lighten the mood, and Harry appreciates it more
than he can say.

After Harry finishes, Louis makes himself comfortable on the seat next to him, turning to
face him seriously. “Haz, do you think you could call them, at least? They’re really really
worried, and I just think that they deserve to hear from you at least, you know?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles reluctantly, “I suppose.”

“You think you’d be okay talking to them in person?” Louis asks carefully, and Harry cocks
his head. “I mean, love, they really wanna talk to you.”

“Have you heard from them?” Harry asks him, avoiding the question. Louis sighs, scrubbing
a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, they won’t stop texting me. I told them we’re together, but that’s it.” Louis reaches to
place a hand lightly over Harry’s, watching carefully for his reaction. “Baby, if they were to
come over, I know that they’d be really supportive and understanding, and I would be here
the whole time.”

“Okay,” Harry says quietly, and Louis blinks in surprise. “I’ll tell them to come over. Might
as well just get it over with, right?” He laughs weakly, and Louis leans in to kiss him quickly.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he murmurs warmly. Harry nods, resting against Louis for
another moment before standing up.

“I’m gonna just go upstairs and text them,” he explains, and Louis nods, letting his fingers
brush lightly against Harry’s arm until he’s out of reach.

When Harry checks his phone, there are forty seven messages between Liam, Niall, Zayn and
Sophia. They’re all more or less the same- please call me back or where are you right now,
besides Zayn’s, which are mostly just checking if he’s alright, and asking if he’s going to get
in touch with the others. Harry swallows hard, heart pounding, before sending a quick
message on the group chat that the six of them share.

i’m at my house

if you wanna come over you can

He shuts his eyes, letting his finger hover over the send button for a few moments before
forcing himself to hit send. He isn’t sure why he’s surprised when he gets a response twenty
seconds later.

Niall: we’ll be there in 20

Harry swallows, kneading the comforter between his fingers as a distraction. He squeezes his
eyes shut for a moment before taking a long breath and pushing himself up, throwing on a
pair of jeans and sweatshirt.

Louis’ in the kitchen when he gets downstairs, leaning against the counter as he scrolls
through his phone. “Hey, babe,” he greets him, not looking up, “so they’re gonna be here
pretty soon, yeah?” He barely gets to finish, though, because Harry strides towards him and
stands on his tiptoes to kiss him, bringing his hands up to Louis’ neck, lips slotting together
easily as he surges forward eagerly. Louis takes a step back, clearly caught off guard, but a
moment later he responds by locking his arms around Harry’s waist, and lifting him against
the wall, hands firm on his hips as he holds him in place. Harry wraps his legs around Louis’
middle, moaning softly as Louis pushes him further against the wall, flicking his tongue
eagerly into Harry’s own mouth.

It’s been a while since they’ve done anything like this- there have been the usual chaste
kisses and cuddles, and after that first blowjob they’ve both returned the favor a few times, as
well as a couple of handjobs, but it’s been a few weeks since anything like that has happened
and they haven’t tried anything more serious than that. Maybe that’s why they’re both so
eager right now; Harry’s hands caught in Louis’ hair as he kisses him, cheeks flushed.

“Love,” Louis gasps, pulling away for a moment, “baby, they’re gonna be here soon-”

“Not for a while,” Harry replies impatiently, grasping at the fabric of Louis’ tee shirt. “We
have time for something quick, you know-”

“Haz-” Louis pulls away, allowing him down, “-Harry I wanna do this too, but we can’t do it
right now. And you’re also- I don’t think we should do it right now ‘cause I can tell you’re
really anxious, love, and this isn’t gonna help that.” He’s right, of course- Harry’s a wreck
with anticipation, digging his nails into his palm and bouncing anxiously, gripped with
nervousness. “Look, darling, we can totally do this after, but we should just talk right now,
okay?”

“What kind of eighteen year old boy turns down sex to talk?” Harry grumbles, hoping it’s
enough to deflect Louis’ accusation. Louis snorts, shaking his head fondly.
“One who cares about his boyfriend’s well being,” he answers dryly, and Harry rolls his eyes.
“Seriously, baby, are you feeling okay?”

Harry stares at him for a long moment, before reaching for his hand in search of support.
“Kind of,” he mumbles, and Louis raises his eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t wanna do this. At
all.”

Louis sighs sadly, squeezing his shoulders. “I know, darling,” he says quietly, smoothing
Harry’s hair. “I promise it’ll be okay.”

“You’ll stay the whole time, right?” Harry says desperately, swallowing when he realizes
how needy he sounds. Thankfully, Louis doesn’t make him feel bad about it; instead, he
draws him closer and kisses the top of his head, rubbing a hand over his back soothingly.

“Of course, love,” Louis says firmly, “and if, you know, they’re making you uncomfortable
and you don’t wanna say anything, just like… squeeze my hand twice.” Harry laughs shakily,
wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and leaning against his chest.

“Alright,” he mumbles tiredly, and Louis laughs, stroking his hair again before the bell rings.
The sound is sharp, startling Harry, and it feels taunting to hear. When he tenses, eyes
screwed shut in anxiety, and Louis immediately reacts.

“Love, it’s gonna be okay. Look at me.” He cups Harry’s chin in his hands, thumbing his
cheek lightly. “I promise you, nothing bad is gonna happen.” Harry swallows, nodding even
though his head is pounding with dread. Louis squeezes his hand tightly before reaching
towards the door.

Before he pulls it open Louis grips his shoulders, staring intently at him. “I love you so much,
Harry, and so do they, and everything is going to be fine.” Harry nods silently, and then
gestures towards the door to let him know it’s okay to let them in.

Never could Harry have anticipated the response he would get from the four of them, waiting
outside impatiently. Liam enters first, practically pushing Louis aside to pull Harry into a hug
that leaves him slightly breathless. Niall joins them a fraction of a second later, arms tight
around Harry’s shoulders, and the three of them stay like that for a few long moments until
Liam pulls away to allow Sophia in, who flings her arms around Harry’s neck before stepping
back, squeezing his hand.

Zayn steps in a moment later, giving Harry a brief but tight hug. Harry realizes a moment
later that right now, five pairs of eyes are staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say
something. He crosses his arms over his stomach defiantly, lifting his eyes for a fraction of a
second to try to examine the others faces.

“You guys wanna sit?” Louis intervenes, and Harry shoots him a grateful look.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sophia rushes, clearing her throat and gesturing to the living room. She enters
first, reaching gently to pull Liam behind her, and Niall follows. Zayn squeezes Harry’s hand
quickly before following and draping an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulder.
Louis keeps an arm protectively around Harry when they sit, lightly circling his fingers
against his skin lovingly. The moment everyone has gotten settled, Liam breaks the quiet.

“Harry are you- are you alright?” he asks hoarsely, eyes full of desperation. Harry swallows,
and Louis notices him tug at his sleeves as a distraction.

“I mean…” he trails, off, looking up at them with a helpless, pleading expression, shrugging
emptily. What’s he supposed to say to that?

“Harry, what… what happened?” Niall says quietly, serious for once. Harry shrinks closer to
Louis under the four sets of eyes staring at him, worried and expectant.

“I just, um…” he swallows hard, reaching for Louis’ hand. Immediately, Louis takes it,
brushing his thumb over his knuckles to comfort him. “I mean, like, two years ago I was
having a pretty hard time already, and then, um, there was the stuff with like… Chris and
people at school-” he’s rushing through it now, trying to get everything out as quickly and
steadily as possible, “-and I just- everything was really really bad for me and um, yeah.” He
takes a shallow breath, forcing himself to look at them. All of them, even Zayn and Louis are
watching him intently, eyes soft and sympathetic and fearful.

“Enough to start hurting yourself?” Liam grits out, and it comes out harshly, making Harry
flinch. Immediately, Louis pulls him closer into his side.

“Liam-” he begins, in a warning tone, but Liam interrupts.

“No, Louis, I just don’t totally get it-” Liam huffs out a sharp breath, raking his hands
through his hair. “I just- why, Harry? Like, we thought you were okay for two years and you
didn’t tell us a single damn thing, why? Me and Niall asked if you were okay all the time, we
offered to help you out but you still-”

“Liam, shut up,” Louis snarls, straightening up. “This isn’t about you-”

“I’m not making it about me, Louis, I’m just asking!” Liam snaps defensively. He turns back
towards Harry, who’s arms are crossed firmly over his chest as he attempts to make himself
smaller, to retreat into Louis’ arms again. “Harry,” he begins quietly, sounding defeated. “I
just… you were- you do cut yourself and that’s just… I just am so, so fucking sorry, and I
don’t know- I wish you’d told us or anyone about any of this.” Harry swallows, gritting his
teeth in an attempt to fight tears.

“I’m really sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking, and in a moment Louis’ arms are tight around
his shoulders as he rubs circles over his back. “I didn’t want to like… scare you off-”

“You wouldn’t of ever been scaring us off, Harry,” Niall replies sadly, voice barely audible.
“We would’ve just wanted to help-”

“Yeah,” Sophia murmurs, adding, “and we still aren’t scared, you know, none of us are gonna
stop being your friend or anything, you must know that.” Harry nods helplessly, taking a
couple of short breaths.
“It felt so gross though,” Harry stammers, sinking back against Louis’ chest. “I thought that if
you knew about that you would like, hate me or something, I don’t know.” He keeps his gaze
trained down as he says this, staring at his and Louis’ fingers, tightly interlocked.

“Jesus, Harry,” Liam says softly, but this time there’s no hostility. “We fucking love you, you
know that, right?” Harry nods quickly, cheeks hot.

“It was stupid.”

“Yeah, it kind was stupid of you to think we’d hate you,” Niall says, and Harry laughs
quietly.

“But Harry, you’re still not- I mean, you still need to get better, yeah?” Liam asks carefully.
Harry shrugs, which is enough of a confirmation for Liam to continue. “Don’t you think you
should like… tell your family, so you can get proper help? I mean we really, really want you
to be okay.” Harry averts his gaze, blinking rapidly a few times.

“Yeah, I’m considering it,” he mutters, a tone of finality. Louis squeezes his hand, and Harry
returns it gratefully.

“You’re doing really good, baby,” Louis murmurs softly, and Harry shuts his eyes.

“Hey, you can say if you don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” Zayn pipes up, looking
seriously at Harry. Harry shifts slightly, looking back up timidly.

“Yeah, it’s just, um, it’s hard,” Harry says quietly, biting his lip. Thankfully, the others don’t
press him.

“Okay,” Niall clasps his hands together, clearing his throat in an attempt to stay together.
“Fifa?” Harry nods gratefully, and there’s a murmur of agreement amongst the others. As
they get into position, Harry can feel the atmosphere change in the room; it’s too cautious,
and he knows they’re treating him like he’s fragile.

It’s therapeutic, almost, to stare absently at the TV for a while after that. It’s mind numbing,
but it doesn’t feel good either; there’s an undefinable sense of what feels like dread, or panic,
in his stomach- something he’s used to, but that he can’t quite place. After a bit Louis must
notice this, because he pulls Harry onto his lap, trailing kisses over his cheeks and the back of
his neck to make him laugh.

That’s better than the numbness.

“Could you guys give it a rest? For like five minutes?” Niall scowls, but there’s no real
cruelty behind it, and Harry knows he’s relieved to see it. “Get a fuckin’ room, for Christ’s
sake.”

“Are you and your boyfriend having couple problems?” Louis teases, wrapping both arms
around Harry’s stomach and glaring playfully at Niall. Niall rolls his eyes, stretching and
laying lazily back onto Zayn’s lap with a smile, reaching up to tickle his chin.

“Nah,” he replies, and Zayn smiles fondly.

“I’m gonna get some water,” Harry says, and Louis nods and loosens his arms around Harry’s
waist. Harry pushes himself off of Louis’ lap, smiling down at him and heads into the
kitchen.

He grabs a cup, filling it up when someone enters, the footsteps surprising him. When he
turns, Liam is standing there, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes cast downwards.

“Hey,” he mumbles, glancing up. Harry swallows, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Hi,” he says quietly, gripping the counter. Liam walks up to him, leaning against the table
across from him.

“I’m, uh, Harry I’m really sorry I was being a dick in there.” Harry gives him a small smile,
shaking his head, but Liam raises a hand and continues. “No, that was really shitty of me, and
I was being a bad friend.” He pauses, drumming his fingers lightly against the table. “And
I’m sorry for not noticing anything and I’m sorry for not doing anything about Chris and for
being a dick about Louis at first and I just- I’m so, so fucking sorry Harry.” He swallows
thickly, blinking at the younger boy.

“Liam, it’s not your fault,” Harry says hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper. Liam shakes
his head, dropping his face in his hands momentarily.

“Oi, you’re doing this without me?” Niall calls suddenly, materializing. Harry laughs
nervously, and Liam gives him a tired smile.

“Har’,” Niall bites his lip, reaching forward to touch his arm gently, “I think you’ve talked to
Li and Zayn, and Louis, obviously, already but I just- I love you, mate, and I’m really sorry
and I’m here for you, okay? Even if it’s like, three in the fuckin’ morning, you can call me,
okay?” He gives Harry a weak but warm smile, patting his cheek clumsily, and Harry nods
and laughs quietly.

“Thank you guys,” he says, eyes flickering between the two of them. “I love you guys,” he
adds hesitantly, smiling tiredly. Niall pulls them in, arms wrapped roughly around their necks,
and the other boys grin and lean into the hug.

He doesn’t deserve his friends. But he has them. And maybe that’s enough for right now.

Harry swallows, blinking away the tears that seem to be constantly on the verge of spilling
over his eyelashes, smiling again as he pulls away. Niall and Liam both give him long,
sincere looks before Niall slings an arm over both of their shoulders, leading them back
towards the living room.

Harry settles back next to Louis, who presses a kiss to his ear while murmuring “Everything
okay?” Harry nods, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder.

The six of them stay for a while, alternating between FIFA and snacking and watching reruns
of shows like The Office, until the sky is dark and dotted with stars and they’re expected
home. They file out, Sophia and Liam leaving first (but not without first hugging Harry so
tightly that he pulls away with sore ribs), followed by Niall and Zayn shortly after, who give
the same goodbyes.

When they’re gone, Louis stretches out across the couch, pulling Harry into his arms. Harry
feels so small, under Louis’ touch, so safe, and he feels something very much like sadness
rise in his chest as he processes the last few hours. Louis feels him stiffen beside him, and so
he tangles his fingers in his curls and kisses his forehead, hoping to relax him.

“Everything alright, angel?” he asks gently, and Harry smiles despite himself at the newest
nickname.

“Yeah,” Harry says in a small voice, and Louis raises his eyebrows. “That was hard, though
to talk to them about this stuff.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Louis says, voice soft and full of love. “I’m so proud of you though, baby,
you’re really strong.” Strong. Right.

“I don’t feel strong,” Harry says, voice higher than normal.

“You’re so, so strong, baby. You’ve been through so much but you’re still here, and you’re
still the best person I know and you’re still working so hard.” Louis pauses, trailing his
fingers lightly across Harry’s back. “You make me strong, too.”

“I love you so much, Louis,” Harry says, voice wavering. Louis nuzzles his shoulder gently,
pressing another gentle kiss to his neck.

“I love you more,” Louis says, and Harry can hear the smile in his voice when he leans in to
place his head on Louis’ chest.

***

When Anne arrives home half an hour later, she finds two teenage boys asleep on her couch,
limbs tangled around each other and faces buried in each other’s shirts. She smiles in
adoration and leaves them snuggled against each other, sensing their content with each other.

***
Louis leaves early the next morning, thanking Anne profusely for letting him stay the night
and giving Harry a long hug and gentle kiss and a promise that he’ll see him soon.

Strangely enough, though, they don’t. Not because of an argument of falling out of any sort,
but simply because Louis finds himself suddenly overwhelmed with his family. His mum,
while being the strongest person that Louis’ ever known, has a limit of what she can deal
with, and he can tell she’s hit it. Between dealing with four daughters on her own and trying,
desperately and frantically, to negotiate the divorce terms with Mark, she’s in over her head,
and so Louis takes it upon himself to help her.

He takes over childcare, giving his sisters fun things to do because he thinks they deserve at
least that. They’ve been so patient and sweet over the last few weeks, and Louis knows that
they’ve picked up on the fact that the divorce is mostly his fault, so he wants to give back to
them. He takes them to ice cream stores and movies, and on one day to build-a-bear (mostly
for the twin’s sake; Lottie claims it’s “too immature” for her, but Louis entertains himself by
designing a rainbow bear, complete with a jacket and sunglasses, as a gift for Harry. The girls
tease him relentlessly). But a few days go by and he hasn’t really spoken to Harry, besides a
few brief texts, and that’s unsettling for him.

He calls him one night, after he’s finished reading a bedtime story to Daisy and Phoebe. It’s
about eight and he’s anxious to talk to him, and he smiles when Harry picks up on the final
ring.

“Hello?” His voice is soft and cautious, but Louis still breathes a sigh of relief at hearing it.

“Hi, baby,” Louis says warmly, “sorry we haven’t talked in a couple days, I’ve been with the
girls.”

“It’s okay,” Harry reassures him.

“How are you doing?” Louis asks, slightly concerned at his lack of energy. There’s a heavy
pause before Harry talks again.

“I’m, uh, I don’t know. Not feeling that good.”

“What’s wrong, baby?” Louis says worriedly.

“Nothing really, I just, like- it’s just one of those times that I feel bad for no reason.” There’s
a pause on the other end, and Louis listens intently for him to say something else. “Sorry, it’s
nothing really, it’s stupid, you can hang up if you want.”

“Bullshit,” Louis replies, “are you home right now?”

“Yeah,” Harry says slowly, “but seriously, Louis, it’s not a big deal, don’t come over ‘cause
of this.”

“Okay, well what if I were coming over just ‘cause I miss you? Would that be okay?” Louis
smiles when Harry hesitates on the other end; he can imagine him rolling his eyes, trying to
find a loophole.

“Yeah,” Harry says finally, sounding defeated. Louis grins.

“I’ll see you in fifteen.” With that, he hangs up, grabs a jacket and waves goodbye to his
mother, who’s pacing the floor in the kitchen as she waits for a call.

True to his word, Louis arrives fifteen minutes later, toting the stuffed bear as a hope to cheer
him up. When Harry answers, the first thing he does is glance down at it and ask: “What the
hell is that?”

“Hey, I made this for you.” Louis holds it up proudly, relieved when Harry laughs, genuinely,
and shakes his head incredulously. “It’s a gesture of my love.”
“Thank you, so very much,” Harry drawls, taking it from him and examining it. “I think the
sunglasses really make this.”

“Well, I put a lot of work into it.” Louis says, mock annoyed, and Harry looks up at him
fondly. Louis’ face softens, and he steps in to wrap his arms around Harry, sighing contently
when Harry winds his arms around Louis’ neck and leans against him.

“What’s going on, love?” Louis says seriously, stepping back to look at him. Harry shrugs,
glancing down at the bear as though trying to stall the conversation.

“Nothing, really, I just sometimes get these like, stretches of just feeling really sad and tired
for no reason, and it just really doesn’t feel good.” Harry looks back up meekly, and Louis
reaches forward to take his hand gently.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Louis says sadly, genuinely apologetic. “Is there anything that would
help?”

“It’ll stop eventually,” Harry replies, sweeping his curls off of his forehead, “but thanks for
coming.”

“Of course,” Louis answers, smiling sympathetically. Harry stares up at him, eyes soft and
fond and grateful.

“Would you wanna go up to the roof?” Harry asks suddenly. Louis raises his eyebrows,
surprised, and Harry continues. “It’s, like, nice up there, and it’s nice out-”

“Lead the way,” Louis interrupts, grinning at him. Harry casts him one of those glowing,
loving smiles, before intertwining his smaller hand with Louis’, tugging him upstairs.

He tosses the bear onto his bed as they pass the room, turning back towards Louis. “I promise
I”ll put it in a spot where I can show it off later,” he teases, and Louis can’t do anything but
stare at him fondly.

“You better,” he replies jokingly. Harry stops then, gesturing to a short ladder towards the end
of the hallway.

“ ‘s just up here…” he steps up first, pushing the hatch open and climbing up. Louis follows,
settling right beside Harry.

Harry was right, and it is nice; they can see just over the buildings in town, the golden sky
lighting them up and giving them a shining, glowing quality as the sky darkens. Louis looks
at Harry, frowning when he sees that he’s looking down, eyelashes fluttering, biting his lip.

“You sure you’re okay?” Louis asks, pulling Harry so he’s perched on his lap. Harry looks
up, almost surprised.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s just what I told you, it’ll go away soon.” Louis nods, not convinced but
not wanting to push him any further. He holds him close, though, and hopes he can be part of
what stops it.
***
“What made you think of the roof?” Louis asks him after a few minutes, changing the
subject. Harry shrugs, leaning back into his chest.

“I dunno, I just like it up here, it’s quiet.” He glances back at Louis, who nods.

“Yeah, I agree,” Louis says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Harry blushes, dropping his
head onto Louis’ shoulder.

“What?” he asks, as Louis continues to smirk. He laughs, shaking his head.

“You just look really cute right now, baby,” he answers, and Harry smiles.

“I like it when you call me that,” he murmurs truthfully, and Louis raises his eyebrows.

“Baby?” Harry nods. “You are my baby.”

“Any nickname, though,” he adds, blushing slightly. Louis hesitates a moment.

“Hazza?” Harry nods. “Sweetheart? Darling? Love?”

“That’s my favorite,” Harry replies, closing his eyes for a moment. Louis processes this,

“Alright, baby, well I’ll make sure to use them more.” Harry laughs quietly, tightening his
arms around Louis’ shoulders.

A few moments later, Louis’ phone buzzes in his pocket, and he groans. “Sorry, love,” Louis
says, and Harry doesn’t miss the nickname. “It’s my mum.”

“Hello?” There’s mumbling on the other end and Louis is quiet for a long time, waiting
anxiously.

“Seriously?” Louis speaks up again, looking genuinely, disbelievingly happy, and it makes
Harry smile. “Mum that’s so so great, I’m so happy. Oh, god.” Harry grins incredulously at
him, and he envelopes Harry’s hand in his own. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Love you too.”
He ends the call, turning to Harry and looking elated.

“Mark agreed to split the bank accounts and let us keep the house.” His voice is heavy with
relief and astonishment. Harry grins, truly delighted at the news.

“That’s so amazing, babe.” He pauses to press a firm, loving kiss to his lips, back arching as
Louis combs his fingers through Harry’s hair in response. He pulls apart, still grinning and
leans back to smile warmly at Louis.

“Shit, I- Christ, I was so fucking worried about that.” Louis lets his head fall back, shutting
his eyes in disbelief. “Like, I seriously thought we were gonna have to leave.”

“I’m so glad, Lou,” Harry murmurs happily, pressing his face into Louis’ neck and sighing as
he wraps his arms around Harry’s back. “I told you it would be okay.”
 “Yeah, you did, baby,” Louis breathes, laughing softly against Harry’s neck as he plants soft
kisses along it. “Fuck, Haz, I was so scared- I didn’t know what the hell we would’ve done if
he hadn’t given us the house and the money.” He laughs incredulously, kissing Harry again in
elation.

“So you’re good,” Harry says proudly, cupping Louis’ face and running his thumb lightly
across his cheeks.

“I’m good,” Louis repeats, smiling warmly. “We’re good, and we’re staying and everything’s
okay.”

And it’s true for Louis, which makes is almost enough to make it true for him.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you sosososo much for the comments and kudos, they mean a lot and I love you
all.

Also, I have a lot of people asking how many chapters are left and I don't really know?
Probably around 4 or 5 but like.....it depends on how long the rest of the plot takes to
play out. After I finish, though, I'll probably write some timestamps for H and L cause I
really don't want to let this story go.

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

 Chapter 21
Chapter Notes

I am so so so so so sorry, especially if you follow me on tumblr and saw me say I'd

update yesterday, I've been really busy and I apologize.

Other than that, enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Over the next few days, Louis disappears to help with the divorce and Niall and Liam and
Zayn’s families all take off for one final vacation, leaving Harry alone to finally let the
anxiety of the beginning of the school year catch up to him. He’s ignored the summer work
and materials lists to pile up on his desk, but he has ten days left and he’s threatening to fall
apart at the slightest inconvenience. He doesn’t bother contacting Louis during this time, not
wanting to add more inconvenience when he’s already struggling, and it ends up swallowing
him, gnawing at him from the inside until it feels unbearable.

When Louis calls him a few days later he picks up, relieved but exhausted. He’s lying in his
bed, in the process of writing a half hearted essay that he should have dealt with weeks ago,
and he welcomes the distraction.

“Hey,” he says, voice thick with fatigue. He hears Louis sigh with relief on the other end.

“Hey, baby,” he says quietly, and Louis sounds equally exhausted. “Sorry it’s been awhile,
stuff here has been crazy.”

“It’s fine,” Harry tells him, straightening up against his headboard. “What’s going on there?”

There’s some brief static before Louis answers. “Mark came to pick up his stuff, brought a
fucking moving van with him.” Harry grimaces as Louis continues. “Didn’t look at me,
barely said goodbye to the girls and mum.”

“I’m sorry, Lou, that’s awful,” Harry says apologetically.

“Not your fault,” Louis replies briskly, taking a sharp breath. “But god, he’s not interested in
custody at all. He just told mum that they’d split the money they had now, but he wasn’t
paying for anything else in the future.” Harry bites his lip.

“Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

“My mum’s gonna work again, she has a medical degree and she says she’s excited to do that
again. And he did let us have a lot of money, so we’ll be okay for now.” Louis sighs heavily
again, huffing out a bitter laugh. “I can’t believe he doesn’t care about his own fucking
daughters enough to help pay for everything.”

“It’s because he’s a horrible person,” Harry tells him, and he hears Louis hum in agreement.
“And he’s bitter about this, so he’s trying to take it out on you guys. But everything’s gonna
be okay, and you guys will be able to handle everything.” Harry pauses momentarily. “And
think of how much better it’s gonna be without him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis says, voice tight, “thanks, love.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Harry answers, and they’re quiet for a moment.

“Are you doing okay?” Louis asks a few moments later, clearing his throat. Harry shuts his
eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says shortly.

“Are you sure?” Louis asks carefully.

“Yeah, there’s nothing going on.” He hears Louis sigh defeatedly, waiting for a response.

“Okay,” he answers dejectedly, before adding, “Baby, have you thought anymore about
therapy?”

Harry tenses up, kneading at his comforter. “I dunno, not really,” he mutters irritably, but
Louis doesn’t drop it.

“Love, I think it’d be really good for you-”

“Yeah, I know you think that,” Harry snaps, “you said you weren’t gonna pressure me.”

“I- I’m not, Harry-”

“I have to go,” he rushes suddenly, ending the call and letting his phone drop to his bed. He
takes an unsteady breath, shaking his head quickly as if trying to clear his mind.

He doesn’t know why he turned on Louis like that; he hadn’t done anything wrong, and
Harry had snapped so quickly. Maybe it’s the stress that’s been building up over the last
several days, or the loneliness, but it was still unfair and his stomach tightens as he thinks it
over.

Harry’s been avoiding the discussion, though, dreading the moment when Louis brought it up
again. It’s not that he doesn’t want to get better because he really, really does, especially now,
with so many more people behind him than ever. He doesn’t know how he’d be able to be
open about this to a stranger (considering how hard it’s been to talk about it to people he
loves).

More than that, though, there’s his mother. He’s gone through the possibilities of this
conversation with her over and over again, and each time he pictures it ending with her in
tears, heartbroken and betrayed. He’s been putting that off as long as possible.
Fingers trembling, he picks up his phone and redials Louis, waiting with baited breath for an
answer. He picks up right away.

“Hey.” His voice is cautious and soft, treading lightly as though waiting nervously for Harry
to react.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hears Louis exhale heavily.

“It’s alright, baby,” Louis says soothingly, “I shouldn’t have brought it up right now.”

“No, but I just- I need to do it, Louis, I’m just so scared.” Voice high pitched and fragile, he
continues. “I don’t know how to tell her, Louis-”

“Love, slow down,” Louis says gently, “you’re talking about your mum?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, tears pricking his eyes, “I can’t do that to her, Louis.”

“Harry, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Harry whimpers, taking a breath. “I know it’s hard, love, but
it’s something that she’ll be glad you told her right now, and not in the future when it’s too
bad to fix, right?” Harry flinches at that, swallowing. “Baby you don’t even have to tell her
about everything. Maybe if you just tell her that you want help, would that be easier?”

“I- um, maybe.” Harry stays quiet for a moment, thinking it over. “I just really want to be
fixed.” His voice breaks off, and he swipes a hand furiously across his cheek.

“Baby,” Louis begins, voice thick with emotion, “oh, Harry, it’s gonna be okay. I promise.”
Harry nods, more for his own benefit than anything else. “And love, you aren’t broken, okay?
You’re hurt.” Harry screws his eyes shut, nodding again.

“Okay,” he chokes out, taking a breath. “Okay,” he repeats, more steadily. “Okay, I’ll tell her
tonight.”

“Seriously? You will?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, collapsing against the headboard. “Yeah, I will.”

“Will you call me, afterwards?” Louis says seriously. “No matter what she says?”

“Yeah,” Harry promises firmly, “definitely.”

“Okay,” Louis says softly, like he can’t believe it, “I’m really, really proud of you, baby. I
love you so much.”

“I love you,” Harry repeats, head pounding. “I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

“Good,” Louis answers firmly. Harry ends the call, pulling his knees to his chest burying his
face in his arms as he curls into himself, unbearable sadness weighing on him.

His mom will be home in an hour. The sky is dark already, the only light glowing from his
computer screen, which is doing nothing to help his mood. He has an hour to work up the
nerve to even approach her, and to figure out how he’s going to break it to his mother that for
two years he’s been broken, suffering to the point of suicide and self inflicted pain. How do
you tell that to someone like her without destroying them, making her believe that that it’s
her fault?

The next hour goes all too quickly, and when he hears the door click open his heart sinks. He
doesn’t move for a few moments, just listening to her downstairs as she drops her bag and
busies herself in the kitchen.

Finally, he forces himself to stand up, unsurprised when he notices he’s shivering. He texts
Louis to tell him that he’s about to do it, getting a response less than a minute later.

im really proud of you. i love you. it’s gonna be okay xx. He stares at it for several more
seconds before pushing open his bedroom door and heading downstairs, chest heavy with
dread and fear of what he’s about to do.

She’s in the kitchen, standing over the oven as she stares intently at a cookbook. She doesn’t
notice him for a few moments, so Harry swallows, desperately hoping he’ll be able to get
through this without falling apart.

“Mum,” Harry begins, voice fragile already. She looks up, eyes soft as she gives him a smile.
Harry’s stomach turns at the knowledge of what he’s about to do to her. Swallowing thickly,
he pulls out a chair and sits, raking his fingers over the fabric of his jeans as if that can relax
him. “I, um, I have to tell you something.”

She frowns, concerned, placing her hands on the table. “What is it, sweetheart?” Harry
lowers his gaze, blinking rapidly and taking a few breaths before looking back up.

“Well-” He pauses, gulping as he distracts himself with a loose string on his jumper, “-I, I’ve
been feeling… really bad lately.” He looks up at her desperately, to see her face has morphed
from concern into full fledged worry as she blinks in confusion.

“Harry I… don’t understand. What do you mean ‘bad?’” Her voice is trembling, and Harry
screws his eyes shut, overwhelmed with guilt and disgust with himself.

“I kind of don’t want to be alive.” He spits it out in a rush, words tumbling from his mouth as
he spits it out. This is the hardest thing he thinks he’s ever had to do- with Louis and the
boys, they had already known and he hadn’t been forced to reveal it himself but this, this is
different. This is him breaking his mother’s heart, igniting panic and terror and confusion and
guilt in her when all of this is him, and now she has to suffer because of him.

And she does. She covers her mouth, eyes wide with fear and disbelief, taking a deep breath
in an attempt not to cry. When she speaks, her voice is too high and quivering, on the verge
of breaking.

“Harry, what?” Harry winces at the shocked, almost accusatory tone as she goes on. “Are you
telling me you want to kill yourself?” Her voice rises in hysteria as she stares at him, waiting
for a reply.
Harry blinks away tears before nodding, gritting his teeth in order to stop them falling. For
her, it’s already past that point, and she swipes a hand across her cheek before she says
anything else.

“Oh my god, Harry, how long have you felt this way?” She isn’t angry, but her devastation
comes out harshly, and Harry shivers pathetically.

“A long time, a couple months or something.” He can’t bring himself to say two years, but
her reaction to this is strong enough that he’s glad he decided to censor it. She buries her face
in her hands, shoulders shuddering before she looks up again, eyes glassy and heartbroken.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this before?” She’s hurt, almost betrayed at the idea that she
hadn’t known, and Harry flinches at the harshness of her voice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, not knowing what else he can say. “I’m really sorry.”

“Jesus, Harry, it’s not about being sorry-” She buries her face in her hands, shoulders shaking
in astonishment. “How could you not tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” Harry says shakily, crossing his arms over his chest, “please, mom, I
just need help.” His voice cracks towards the end, tears spilling over his eyelids as he stares
helplessly at her.

“Oh, baby,” she whispers tearfully, “we’ll get you help, alright? It’ll be okay.” Harry nods
helplessly, squeezing his eyes shut as she throws her arms around him, her shoulders heaving
with sobs. She pulls away after several moments, eyes red.

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispers, “I know it must have been hard.” Harry nods
emptily, overwhelmed and numb.

“‘m gonna go upstairs,” he mumbles tiredly, eyes still fixed on the ground. She nods, then
hesitates, placing a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure you’re okay to be alone?” she says, voice laced with fear, and it’s painful to
hear.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, nodding rapidly, “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she says softly, keeping her eyes on him as he exits and heads upstairs.

He shuts the door to his room the moment he gets upstairs, sinking to his knees and burying
his face in his hands, letting weak, breathless sobs escape his chest quietly. He doesn’t know
if he should be relieved or humiliated or regretful, but all he feels is guilt. He broke her heart.

Once he catches his breath, he picks up his phone and dials Louis’ number with trembling
fingers, still trying to process what just happened to him. When Louis picks up, it takes him a
few beats to force himself to talk.
“Hazza? Everything okay?” Harry whimpers quietly, swallowing another sob. “Harry, baby,
talk to me.”

“I told her,” Harry whispers hoarsely, and it doesn’t sound like his own voice. He hears Louis
take a breath on the other end.

“What’d she say, sweetheart?” Louis asks gently. Harry swallows, choking out another quiet
sob.

“She was really upset, started crying-” He breaks off, gasping a few times. “I’m a horrible
person, Louis.”

“Harry, no you aren’t, okay? Listen.” His voice is so firm that Harry blinks, going quiet. “You
did the right thing by telling her, and I know she appreciates it, and wants to help you. You
aren’t a horrible person, and I promise she doesn’t think that.”

“But she’s blaming herself, Louis,” Harry whispers, shaking his head desperately.

“Hazza, that’s- that’s not your fault, love, and you shouldn’t feel bad about being honest,
okay? You absolutely did the right thing for everyone.” Harry shudders slightly, nodding
even though he knows Louis can’t see him.

“Do you want me to come over, baby?” Louis asks. Harry runs his fingers through his hair.

“No, it’s fine, don’t you have to take care of your sisters?”

“Nice try,” Louis says slyly, “I’ll be there in fifteen.” For all of his misery, Harry manages a
laugh of relief.

As promised, fifteen minutes later Harry hears his bell ring, and he stands up to answer it.
Before he makes it downstairs, he his mother pulls the door open and startles slightly when
she catches sight of Louis.

“Hi, Anne,” Louis begins politely, and Harry can’t see them but he pictures Louis smiling
sympathetically at her. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but is it alright if I go see
Harry?”

“I- oh, yes, that’s fine,” she answers, clearing her throat. He hears Louis step inside, Vans
scuffing against the wooden floor, and listens to the rhythm of his footsteps as he heads
upstairs before she calls his name and he stops, presumably turning to look at her.

“Louis?” she says softly, almost fearfully, and Harry has to strain to hear her voice. “Do you-
you knew didn’t you? That’s why you’re here.”

Harry bites his lip, shutting his eyes as he moves closer to the door to make out what they’re
saying. Louis coughs nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“Yeah,” he admits, and Harry holds his breath. “Look, Anne, I-”
“No, don’t worry, I’m not gonna make you talk about this, I know that would be wrong.” She
takes a sharp breath, and Harry relaxes slightly. “I just- thank you, for making him happy.”

It’s a few moments before Louis responds. “I- of course, Anne, but I don’t know-” His voice
is thick with emotion and full of bewilderment, and he clears his throat.

“Okay, go upstairs now,” she says, almost jokingly, and he hears Louis laugh quietly before
continuing up the staircase. Seconds later, he knocks lightly on Harry’s door, and he paces
across the room to open it.

They don’t say anything at first, but Harry nearly collapses into Louis’ arms, letting out an
overwhelmed sigh when Louis pulls him in. He’s shivering as Louis rubs his back lightly,
combing his fingers gently through his hair with the other hand until he’s slightly more
stable.

“Could you hear just now?” Louis asks in a low voice, and Harry nods hesitantly. “Sorry,”
Louis says, grimacing. Harry shakes his head, reaching up to touch Louis’ neck.

“No, you were good,” he mumbles. Louis chuckles slightly, kissing his temple before
loosening his arms around Harry to look at him.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, and Harry shrugs.

“Tired. Overwhelmed.” He pauses, dropping his head onto Louis’ shoulder. “Really sad.”
Louis nods sympathetically.

“Can we get out of here?” Harry asks a moment later, looking up pleadingly at Louis. “Just
like… go somewhere alone?”

“Yeah, as long as your mum’s okay with that,” Louis says, slightly hesitant. Harry nods,
grabbing a pair of sneakers from beside his bed before slipping his hand into Louis’ and
tugging him downstairs.

“Mum?” he calls quietly into the kitchen. She’s leaning over her laptop, tapping frantically,
and she jumps slightly at his voice. Harry squeezes Louis’ hand. “Is it okay if we go out for a
bit?”

“Yeah, that’s alright.” She’s distracted and exhausted as she looks between the two of them,
expression very slightly skeptical. “But be back by ten, alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says nervously and Harry nods. She smiles at them as they leave,
but it’s sadder and more defeated than anything else and it leaves a pit in Harry’s stomach.

“Where do you wanna go?” Louis asks him as they step into the car. Harry shrugs.

“I don’t know, you can decide, just somewhere where there’s not a lot of people?” Harry
says, almost shyly. Louis nods, taking a hand off the wheel to brush his fingers lightly.

They’re quiet for the next several minutes. Harry rests his head against the window and stares
stoically out of it, until the scenery blurs into colors and his eyes are burning. Louis places a
hand on his arm eventually, pulling him out of his trance.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks finally, concerned. Harry bites his lip, swallowing
hard before answering.

“Not right now,” he says hoarsely, and to his relief Louis nods and squeezes his hand,
dropping the subject. About a minute later, he takes a sharp turn before turning to grin at
Harry.

“This an okay place?” he asks, almost smugly. Harry blinks, squinting for a moment before
turning to look at Louis, smiling despite himself.

It’s the diner from their first date, which feels like something from another lifetime now.
Harry thinks back to it vaguely, wondering how so much could have changed in the span of
seven months.

“Yeah,” he replies, shaking his head in astonishment. Louis winks before swinging his door
open and taking Harry’s hand, walking slowly inside.

“I forgot this place,” Harry says when they enter, although it’s all crisp in his mind now. To
his relief, it’s completely deserted, and when he settles across from Louis he’s able to relax
slightly.

They order a few minutes later, and when it arrives Harry pushes the food across his plate
distractedly, lacking an appetite. Louis notices this, because he frowns and reaches across the
table to touch Harry’s wrist.

“Eat something, baby,” he says gently, fixing him with a sympathetic look. Reluctantly, Harry
stabs a piece of lettuce and swallows it, rolling his eyes at Louis.

“Thank you,” Louis says teasingly, which prompts a smile from Harry. A few moments Harry
looks back up at him, nervously this time.

“I, um- do you think we could talk about it?” he asks timidly. Louis squeezes his hand, biting
his lip.

“Absolutely,” he says reassuringly, “what’s up?” Harry takes a long sip of water before
responding.

“I just- I really didn’t wanna hurt her, you know? And it was just so embarrassing, and like- I
told her as little as I could so what if- what if she finds out about everything else?” He grits
his teeth, willing himself to stay strong. “I didn’t want to do that to her.”

“Harry,” Louis begins, voice full of emotion. “Love, she’s just scared. And she’s gonna get
you what you need, now, so- so if she finds out it’ll be in a place where you have a therapist
to help you out, right?” Harry stares at him, considering this as Louis goes on. “And baby, it’s
not embarrassing at all, alright? The way you feel is never embarrassing.”

Harry blinks a few times, fighting tears in vain. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and Louis smiles
lovingly and shakes his head.
“Hey,” he moves from where he’s sitting to be beside Harry, wrapping an arm around his
shoulders so he can tuck his head into the crook of Louis’ neck. “It’s gonna be okay, love,
alright? You did the right thing, and everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”

When Louis drops him off later, he offers to come in but Harry turns him down. “I wanna
deal with this alone,” he explains, and Louis nods understandingly, leaving him with a light
kiss to the lips.

Still, when he steps inside there’s a part of him that wishes he had Louis with him. His mom
is still sitting where they left her, but to Harry’s relief she looks slightly calmer than before.

“Sweetheart, I made an appointment for this Wednesday with a therapist.” She takes a breath,
glancing back at her computer reluctantly. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry says breathlessly, “thank you, mum.” She gives him a painful smile.

“I think it’ll be really good.”

But when he’s sitting in the office for the first time, it feels anything but good. He’s a wreck;
anxiety is pounding in his chest and throat and stomach, threatening to destroy him and he’s
desperate for a razor. He’d been expecting something very crisp and professional- bright
white walls and a tidy desk, a woman in a pantsuit marking down notes across from him.
Instead, he finds himself on a plush couch in a small living room, a wooden coffee table in
front of him with what appear to be toys- stress balls and sandboxes and such. Dr. Byrd, his
therapist, must be about thirty, if not even younger- she’s pretty, with dark short cropped hair
and wide, sympathetic eyes, but Harry can barely bring himself to look at her for more than a
few moments at a time.

“Harry,” she begins, voice gentle and reassuring, “can you tell me about yourself?” He
swallows, shifting and shrugging nervously.

“Yeah, um, I’m sixteen, I go to Ridgewood, and I’m in, uh, ninth year. And I have, um, an
older sister-” he pauses awkwardly, swallowing again, and she nods.

“Okay, and can you tell me about some of your friends?”

“Yeah, um, there’s Liam and Niall, and I’ve been really really close with them since we were
like, nine, and then Zayn, and also Sophia -she’s Liam’s girlfriend- who I just met this year
but we’re really good friends.” In the few moments he hesitates, she intervenes.

“And any romantic relationships?” Harry feels slightly ridiculous being asked that in this
setting, but he answers anyway.

“Yeah, I have a boyfriend.” His breath catches on the word, half afraid that she’ll turn out to
be homophobic. She just nods, unsurprised, not taking her eyes off of him. “Louis, we’ve
been dating for like, nine months.”

“So would you say that you have good relationships with all of them?” He nods
enthusiastically. “And we’ll talk more about them, but what about your sisters and mom?”
“Yeah,” he answers quickly, adding “I mean, we fight about stuff, but I think we have a good
relationship.” He’s almost desperate, trying to prove it to her.

“Good.” She gives him a quick smile. “And your mom told me a bit, but I want to hear in
your own words why you’re here.”

Harry’s heart drops, chest tightening as he tries to answer the question. “I, um, have been
feeling really bad for a long time?” She watches him, expression unchanging. “Just really,
really sad and like, anxious for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Like two years,” Harry mumbles, casting another worried glance at her.

“And do you know why this started, how you started feeling like this?” Harry burns his eyes
into the fabric of the couch, cheeks hot.

“I’ve always been, like, nervous about stuff, like school and my friends and stuff, but, um,
when I was like fourteen I kind of… accidentally came out at school and there were some
guys who- who really didn’t like that and that made things a lot worse.” She nods
sympathetically.

“Okay.” She nods slowly, not taking her eyes off of Harry. “We’re gonna talk about that
more, but I have to ask: have you ever had suicidal thoughts?”

Harry nods, knowing that the best thing for him is to be honest.

“For how long?”

“The same, like two years,” he mumbles, heart racing. To his surprise, she doesn’t throw him
a pitying glance; instead she nods calmly, casting a mildly interested look towards him.

“After things started getting worse at school?” Harry nods, relieved that she isn’t making him
describe it more. “Have you ever tried to do anything about it?”

Harry takes a shaky breath, biting his lip. “Uh, well… like nine months ago I kind of
almost… I went to this bridge and I wanted to jump.” When he forces himself to look up, her
eyes are filled with concern but not surprise, and he isn’t sure how that makes him feel.

“Do you still have those feelings?”

“Not… not as much,” Harry stammers, reaching inadvertantly for the stress ball. Dr. Byrd
raises her eyebrows.

“What does ‘not as much’ mean?” she says seriously, keeping her gaze trained firmly on him.
Harry swallows, wrapping his arms across his stomach.

“Like… I still feel like I don’t want to be here sometimes, but- but I don’t think I would try to
do anything about it?”
“And what changed, that made you not want to try anymore?”

“My friends and my boyfriend all sort of found out about this stuff, and I don’t think I could
do that to them,” Harry says hoarsely, adding, “They’re kind of the reason I’m here.”

“We are definitely going to come back to that today, but I need to know: have you ever hurt
yourself on purpose?” Harry tenses up, shrinking slightly.

“Yeah, it started around the same time as everything else,” he says quietly, tugging at his
sleeves out of habit. “It was, um, cutting.” His breath hitches on the last word, and he lifts his
eyes almost fearfully to meet hers.

“And can you tell me how that started?”

So for the next forty five minutes, Harry explains the whole story to her- how Chris and his
friends had started harassing him and how it had gotten increasingly worse, how he had
quickly slipped into a self harm addiction and how it would get worse depending on what
was going on in his life. She listens sympathetically, interrupting him a few times to ask
questions. After what feels like hours she stops him and clears her throat, straightening up.

“Harry, you’ve been through a lot and this has clearly taken a toll on you. If we’re going to
work together, we would focus first on breaking the self harm habits, as well trying to target
the depressive feelings so you can feel better.” She pauses, checking that he’s still listening.
“We’re going to have to talk to your mom now, though.”

“Can you, um- can you not tell her the cutting part?” Harry asks desperately. To his relief, she
nods.

“I’m not required to report that, so if you don’t want me to tell her right now, I won’t.” Harry
exhales heavily, shutting his eyes in relief. “But she knows about your other feelings, correct?
She mentioned it to me.”

“Yeah, I uh- I told her about that.”

“Well, we’re just gonna do a quick recap here, then.” She stands up, striding towards the door
and gesturing for Anne to enter. She does, looking eager and worried as she settles beside
Harry.

“So what I think what we’re dealing with here is some severe depression and mild anxiety
disorder.” Harry nods, not particularly surprised but unsettled all the same. “I definitely think
that you’d benefit from therapy, but we can’t guarantee that either.”

“So- so if this weren’t helpful, what would you recommend?” Anne asks anxiously, tapping
her fingers against the table nervously. Harry bites his lip, staring intently at a scuff on the
floor.

“Well, I’d recommend trying this for two to three months, and after that we could talk about
medication.” Anne nods.
“So will you be back next week? And if you would rather try someone else, believe me, I’ll
take no offense. The most important thing is that you’re seeing someone who you can trust.”
She’s talking directly to Harry now, who looks up and nods nervously.

“Yeah, I, um, yeah, I’ll come back next week.” He trades a look with his mom, who nods
eagerly.

“Alright.” She takes a breath, smoothing her hands over her blouse. “Thank you so much, Dr.
Byrd.” She nods, smiling sweetly at the two of them.

“Yes, of course.” She shakes both of their hands, and Harry mumbles a polite ‘thank you’ and
it’s over; he’s back in the parking lot with his mother, trying to process what just happened.

“Did you like her?” Anne asks as she starts the car, looking worriedly at Harry. He nods,
perhaps too eagerly, but he wants to make her feel better.

“Yeah,” he answers timidly, looking to her hopefully.

“So you’re okay with going back?” she presses. Harry nods again, and this time when she
looks at him, her eyes are full of warmth.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says kindly, watching him intently. Harry smiles back at her
nervously, biting his lip.

“So I’m dropping you off at a restaurant to meet Louis?” she says a moment later, changing
the subject.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s really close to here,” he explains, relieved at the topic change. Sure enough,
as she pulls around a corner he catches sight of Louis, leaning casually against a wall and
flicking through his phone.

“Okay, I’ll be back tonight mum,” he tells her, reaching to open the door. Before he can exit,
she throws her arms around him, sighing.

“I love you, darling,” she says softly, touching his hair lightly. Harry blushes slightly,
mussing his curls.

“Love you too, mum.” He gives her an awkward half-smile before stepping out of the car and
striding over to Louis.

When Louis spots him he walks towards him anxiously, reaching him in the middle of the
parking lot. Before he can say anything Harry winds his arms around Louis’ neck, burying
his face in Louis’ shoulder the moment he’s close enough.

“Hi,” Louis says quietly, hooking his arms tightly around Harry’s waist. He feels Louis press
a firm kiss to the top of his head, then his neck before pulling away to look at him, smiling
warmly.

“How was it?” he murmurs, running a hand up Harry’s back. Harry sighs, exhausted as he
sinks against Louis again, letting his head fall against his chest and his eyes flutter shut.
“Alright,” he mumbles, as Louis tangles his fingers through Harry’s hair. “Hard.”

“Yeah?” Louis says softly, brushing his lips against Harry’s temple. “Yeah, that’s
understandable.” Harry nods, tightening his arms around Louis for comfort. “Did you tell her
everything?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “and she had to tell my mom most of it.”

“You’re really brave, love,” Louis says firmly, rubbing circles over his back again. “I’m
really proud of you.” Harry doesn’t answer, just nuzzles closer to Louis. It says enough.

“Did you like her?” Louis asks a moment later, watching him closely. Harry considers the
question for a moment, distracting himself by thumbing the fabric of Louis’ sweatshirt lightly
before answering.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “yeah, she was nice, I just- I don’t know, it was hard to talk to her.”

“Well that makes sense, first time and all,” Louis says thoughtfully. Harry nods gratefully,
casting him a thankful look before standing on tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the lips.

“I’m really tired, though,” he admits a moment later, sinking against Louis’ chest again. “It
was exhausting.”

“Of course,” Louis replies, tilting Harry’s chin up towards him softly. “You up to grab
something to eat, and then we can go back to your house and watch TV for a while?”

Harry smiles up at him, nodding briefly. “Yeah, that sounds really good,” he answers,
pressing another quick kiss to Louis’ lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, babe,” Louis replies cheekily, pulling away from him only long enough to
be able to wrap one arm protectively around his waist and lead him inside.

As they wait in line, Harry snuggles securely into his neck, smiling when Louis trails a
couple of kisses over his curls. His arms are wrapped tightly around Louis’ stomach and
Louis is holding him so closely and he feels so safe right then, so content.

“Hey,” Louis says quietly, and Harry looks up. “This is the place I asked you out,
remember?” Harry looks up, momentarily confused before it hits him. He casts his eyes over
the place, grinning when he catches sight of the two chairs they’d been sitting in, crammed in
a corner, tucked away from the chaos of the restaurant. Harry smiles warmly up at Louis.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, “how could I forget?” Louis laughs, shaking his head fondly.

“I’m glad I did it,” Louis says happily, and Harry smiles as he snuggles against Louis’
shoulder. They don’t talk much more for the remainder of the line; Harry goes quiet as he
thinks back to the session and Louis allows him to, understanding what he needs in the
moment.

Before they leave, Harry glances back at the vacant chairs, thinking back to seven months
ago. He turns away from them to look back at Louis, who’s watching him patiently with a
 curious expression.

“I’m glad you did it too.”

Chapter End Notes

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

And also if you leave comments and kudos ily <3

 Chapter 22
Chapter Notes

Ayyye I'm back!

Thank you to my baby Janefor editing, love you.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It’s Harry’s second session; he’s alone this time, having been dropped off by his mother who
had asked him anxiously if he’d be alright about a dozen times before finally believing him.
While entering the building, though, he’d almost wished he wasn’t alone; even with
motivational posters plastered every few inches around the waiting room and a stack of
health magazines, everything seems vast and intimidating, almost cold and uninviting even
though it’s blatantly going for the opposite of that. He finds himself gazing blankly at the
ground, though, until he’s finally invited into Dr. Byrd’s office.

She asks him how his week had gone; how he’d been feeling, if he had self harmed or felt the
urge to, and he answers honestly; not great, and no, he hadn’t but he’d wanted to. When he
says that she straightens up, reaching for a notebook and pen from her desk.

“Okay, I wanted to talk about that, Harry.” She trains him with a sharp but kind look, and he
nods nervously. “What are things that trigger those feelings?”

Harry tenses, pressing his hands against each other and then against his thighs. His breathing
is short and shallow, heart pounding against his chest, and he coughs before speaking.

“I, um-” he bites his lip, breaking off, and she nods encouragingly. “There are lots of things
that can make me do it.”

“Can you give me an example?” she prods patiently, and Harry nods nervously, hesitating a
moment.

“Okay, like, um, I do it a lot when I’m worried? Like… like if I think someone’s mad at me
and I get really scared about that, and then I’ll, um- yeah.” He takes a sharp breath, shrinking
back into the cushion.

“Any other triggers?” she presses kindly. Harry swallows again, driving his nails towards his
wrists inadvertently and then praying she hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah, um, so I told you that there were guys from my school who… don’t like me.” She
nods, leaning forward and keeping her gaze intently on him. “That got… really, really bad-”
his voice is trembling, and he swallows in a vain attempt to sound braver, “-and that was
what kind of started it, ‘cause I just couldn’t handle that and I, um… yeah.”

“What kinds of things would they do?” she asks, and oh, god, he hadn’t wanted to talk about
this. Harry screws his eyes shut, fingers digging into his wrists tightly enough to leave
bruises before taking an uneven breath and blinking, eyes burning into the ground.

“Um, say stuff like ‘fag’ and that stuff and, um, hit me and stuff.” It sounds pathetic to admit,
and his cheeks are hot when he finishes, shivering slightly.

“So this was pretty serious harassment,” she observes and Harry nods, relieved. “Did you
ever tell anyone?”

“No, um, my friends Niall and Liam knew but they- I didn’t want them to do anything.” To
his relief, he’s gotten control of his voice now, and he allows himself to lift his gaze to her,
eyes slightly fearful.

“Okay, we have to come back to that-” she breaks off, locking eyes with him for a moment,
and he nods, “-but that sounds like a major trigger, and I can tell you’re uncomfortable
talking about it.” He nods again, biting his lip, but to his relief and surprise she isn’t angry.

“What else?”

“If, um, if I do badly on something, like a test, or whatever.” He pauses, swallowing thickly.
“If I think I hurt someone, like- like I yell at my mum, or after my boyfriend found out about
this stuff, and I just felt so guilty.” He pauses sharply, surprised at how much he had just
admitted.

“So you tend to blame yourself for things. You’re very hard on yourself.” Harry shrugs,
curling his arms around himself and then nodding slowly.

“And you said your boyfriend found out?” she adds curiously. Harry swallows.

“Yeah, like a little more than a month ago.”

“How did he react?”

“He was, um, really upset but he was supportive. He was really nice.” He’s told her a bit
about Louis; how long they’d been together, his personality, but he’d really only scratched
the surface. “He really wanted to help, but it didn’t… always work.”

“So he was supportive, and tried to help, but you still felt like you wanted to self harm?” she
questions. Harry nods self consciously, feeling slightly accused despite the calmness of her
tone. “So you were feeling suicidal and unhappy before he found out.” Harry nods again, and
she continues slowly. “Did you tell him, or did he find out by accident?”

“By accident,” Harry mumbles, adding “he saw my cuts one night.” She nods, unsurprised.

“How did you think he would react? I mean, you must have considered it before it
happened.”
Harry slots his fingers in between each other, another distraction for himself. “I thought he’d
break up with me,” he answers finally, voice dull. “I thought all of my friends would leave.”

“What made you think that?” she asks kindly, giving him a small, sympathetic grimace.
Harry shrugs, swallowing again and averting his gaze.

“I just- it’s so gross and I didn’t want them to deal with it-” he inhales shakily, shutting his
eyes, “-and I didn’t want them all to blame themselves. And they did.”

“Harry,” she says kindly, and he looks up, “it sounds like you’ve have some severe self harm
addiction, and we’re going to try to target that as soon as possible. It also sounds like you
tend to blame yourself for things, and then assume others will blame you too.” Harry nods
sadly. “I think an important thing for you to remember is that your friends, and boyfriend, and
family all love you very much. And if you found out that one of them were in pain, would
you leave them?”

“No,” Harry answers after a moment, blinking. She raises her eyebrows.

“So can you see why it’s inaccurate for you to assume that they’ll leave?” Harry nods, not
quite agreeing with her but understanding her point.

“Harry, there are lots of other methods of letting go besides hurting yourself. In fact-” Dr.
Byrd breaks off, shuffling through a pile of papers on her table for a few moments until
removing one and handing it to him. “-this is a list of alternatives to self harm that allow you
to feel a sensation that isn’t harmful or self destructive.”

Harry scans the list briefly- it’s full of various ideas such as press an ice cube to the area
where you would otherwise self harm or draw or paint over your arms or legs. He looks back
up at her, eyes wide.

“Harry, I want you to try something from this list the next time you want to self harm, okay?
And then I want you to record the trigger, and what method you used, and how effective it
was.” She hands him another sheet or paper, this time a T-chart, and he takes it without
question.

“And we also need to talk about your suicidal feelings.” She pauses, eyes lingering on him as
if waiting for a response. When he says nothing, she continues. “I understand that you’ve felt
that very severely, correct.”

“Yeah,” he answers hoarsely, swallowing.

“And do you still think that you would attempt to end your life?” It’s not accusatory, but
Harry still flinches at the question, feeling vilianized.

“I, um, I don’t think I would do anything but I also don’t really want to be alive,” he says
quietly, and it doesn’t feel or sound like his voice. She nods seriously.

“Why do you think you wouldn’t do anything about it?”

“Because, um, my friends and family, I guess?” He hesitates, running his fingers over the
hem of his sweater. “Like- like before when I kinda tried to- you know, I thought that it’d be
better without me? And, um, I still kinda think that but also, like, I don’t want to hurt them.”

“Why did you think it would be better without you?” She sounds kinder now, more
sympathetic, but Harry still can’t bring himself to look at her.

“Because I’m just an inconvenience I haven’t- I’ve just caused problems for them, in the
past.” Harry blinks rapidly, forcing himself to take a breath.

“Harry, from the few times I’ve talked to you I can tell that you have very low self esteem, as
well as a warped view of yourself from other’s perspectives. Another thing I want you to do
is to record the interactions you have with Louis and with your friends over the next week,
and then bring them back to me and we’ll discuss why you’re perceiving things incorrectly
from them, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry agrees reluctantly. She smiles warmly at him.

“And we need to stop now, but if you feel like self harming and none of those methods work,
or if you feel like you’re going to do something else self destructive, please text me and I’ll
call you as soon as I can, alright?” She’s giving him a smile but her voice is firm, and Harry
nods.

“Okay.” He stands up, tucking the papers carefully into his bag. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She stands up to open the door for him, smiling once again. “I’ll see you next
week.”

When he arrives home, he heads upstairs and collapses into bed on his side, too drained for
communication and too sad to be alone.

***

Two days after that session, he works up the courage to tell Niall and Liam that he’s started
therapy.

The three of them have met up at Niall’s house, and they’re sprawled across his basement
floor to play Mario Kart. Liam has won every round and Niall is growing increasingly
aggravated, and Harry’s just glad to be with them.

“Fuckin’ bullshit, man, you’re cheating or something,” Niall snaps after losing the eight
round, tossing his controller to the ground, and Liam snorts.

“Sorry you’re so shit at video games, mate,” he says calmly, and Niall scowls at him. Harry
laughs, shaking his head at the two of them.

“Hey, how’re you doing, man?” Liam asks, muting the TV and turning to him. Niall’s face
softens, and he looks in concern towards Harry.
Harry laces his fingers together, lowering his gaze. “I’m alright,” he says quietly, pausing. “I,
um, I started seeing a therapist,” he adds timidly, glancing up hopefully at them.

Niall blinks incredulously, raising his eyebrows. “Seriously?” Harry nods. “Harry that’s
great!” Liam nods enthusiastically in agreement, grinning at him.

“That’s really, really good mate,” he says seriously, eyes bright and full of something that
looks very much like relief. “How is she?”

Harry hesitates before answering, trying to consider how to phrase it. “Alright,” he begins
carefully. “She’s really nice, it’s just not, you know, fun.” Niall and Liam nod simultaneously,
both looking eager and encouraging as they watch him expectantly, as if waiting for him to
say more.

“That’s great, Harry,” Niall says seriously, when he doesn’t say anything else. “What made
you start?”

“I just, um, talked to my mom a bit about, like, everything and she found my doctor.” He
gestures vaguely to the air, hoping they wouldn’t push him for more details than what he’d
shared already. Thankfully, they seem to take the hint.

“That’s really great, H,” Niall repeats, and Liam nods rapidly. Harry gives them a small
smile, a tone of finality in the air. Niall stares at him for a moment and then launches himself
towards Harry, throwing his arms tightly around his neck and knocking him to the ground,
leaving him slightly breathless. Harry grins, hugging him back and patting him lightly on the
back while Liam drapes an arm around him.

He really does have great friends.

***

Zayn finds out three days after that.

Both he and Harry had neglected their summer assignments until the last week, so they’d
made a pitiful agreement to edit each other’s essays in desperation. Zayn arrives at Harry’s
house alone in the morning, along with a tupperware of samosas that he’d cooked as
motivation. They’re in Harry’s room; Harry is lying on his bed skimming Zayn’s essay when
Zayn interrupts with a tentative “Harry?”

“Hm?” He glances up to see Zayn holding a card - Dr. Byrd’s business card, he realizes- with
an inquisitive expression.

“This yours?” Harry nods, sitting up and pushing his hair off of his forehead. “Sorry, I’m not
trying to overstep here, but if you’re thinking about doing that, it’d probably be helpful-“

“I’m already seeing her,” Harry tells him, and a surprised smile spreads across Zayn’s face.

“For real?” Harry nods again. “That’s great, bebs.” Harry smiles and shrugs.

“How is it?” Zayn asks a moment later, and Harry blinks.

“It’s um- it’s alright. Hard,” he answers after a moment, pausing and swallowing. Zayn
smiles, soft and calm and warm.

“I think that’s really, really good, Harry,” he says seriously, eyes full of genuine care. Harry
smiles gratefully for a moment before Zayn coughs, blinking.

“So, samosas?”

And that’s that.

In some ways, Zayn becomes the one who it’s easiest to be around out of the three of them.
He adores Niall and Liam, is infinitely thankful to have them in his life, but there are times
when their concern and support becomes overwhelming and stressful. They’re constantly
checking on him, alarmed if he ignores a text or arrives five minutes later than he said he
would. He gets it, and he feels impossibly guilty about it, but he still gets annoyed at them for
it.

Zayn doesn’t react like that. He offers quiet, strong support without forcing it out of him or
badgering him with questions. If he picks up a vibe from Harry that he isn’t okay (which,
with school approaching, is more and more common), he doesn’t press him on it the way the
other two would. Sometimes, it’s a relief to sit quietly with Zayn, doing work or reading and
not having to spill his emotions.

They all balance each, really; Niall with his light hearted humor and his ever comforting
presence, positivity radiating from him even in the worst of situations. Liam, concerned and
caring, checking again and again that he’s alright, offering help in any way possible. And
Zayn, calm and quiet, allowing him to do exactly what he needs for himself.

Harry is really, really, lucky.

And Louis, of course. Wonderful, patient Louis who has seen him at his lowest and still
stayed, without a trace of reluctance or anger. Louis, who calls him at four am if he sees he’s
online just to make sure he’s okay. Louis, who doesn’t push him to talk if he’s uncomfortable
but will listen for as long as Harry needs him to is he does want to talk. He wonders again
and again what he did to deserve Louis, and each time he doesn’t get an answer.

He doesn’t know how he got any of them, really. That alone is reason enough to stay alive.

***

A day before his third session, Harry’s horribly surprised when he enters his kitchen from his
bedroom. His mother had just come home and he hadn’t heard her and therefore, hadn’t
bothered to clean up before she arrived. She’s holding a slip of paper, the one from his doctor,
hand clamped over her mouth in horror, and Harry’s heart skips a beat when he realizes what
it is.

“Self harm.” She shakes her head, touching her forehead and laughing humorlessly before
Harry even has the chance to talk. “You didn’t tell me that, Harry.” Her voice is raw and
harsh but not quite hysterical, more dull with shock and pain.
“I didn’t want you to be worried,” Harry replies hoarsely, and she huffs out a sharp laugh
again. “Please, mum, I didn’t want to hurt you-”

“Harry,” she interrupts brashly, dropping her face into her hands, “I can deal with anything
you have to tell me. What I can’t deal with is you being so unhappy and me having no idea.”
Harry stays silent, tears burning behind his eyes. “You make me feel like I can’t trust you,
when you don’t tell me about these things. I mean, what else do I not know about? Eating
disorders? OCD?” Now, her voice rises in hysteria, breaking towards the end as she collapses
into a seat, raking her fingers through her hair.

“Mum,” Harry whispers, voice soft and helpless and pathetic, but he doesn’t know where he’s
going. She looks up at him, eyes impossibly pained.

“Were you ever planning on telling me this?” she asks flatly, snapping her head up to stare at
him again. “Or were you just hoping I wouldn’t find out?” She places her hands on the table,
taking a sharp breath. “Jesus Christ, Harry-”

“Mum, I’m sorry!” he snaps, “I didn’t want to hurt you even more than I did and I’m talking
about it in- in therapy so why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” She laughs again, one of those horrible and hysteric laughs that makes
Harry flinch. “I don’t know Harry, do you think it’s unreasonable for me to care that my son
is hurting himself?” She drops her hands to her side and stares at him, eyes bright with tears
and anger and heartbreak, and Harry feels sick and faint.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles tearfully, “I’m sorry.”

Anne stares at him for another moment, face twisted in pain, and then jerks her arm forward
and reaches and grips his arm lightly. Harry jerks away, mostly in shock and crosses his arms
over his chest a moment later.

“Let me see, Harry.” Her voice is shaking and fearful, but she keeps her gaze firmly on him.
Harry shakes his head desperately, begging for her to understand. She stares back at him
through tortured eyes, jaw tense before taking his wrist and pulling it roughly to see it,
pushing up his sleeve before he knows what she’s doing.

The horror in her eyes is something Harry hopes he’ll never have to see again. She gasps
shakily, eyes raking over the layered marks as she realizes the severity of this, tears pooling
in her eyes. Harry holds his breath, tears falling helplessly down his cheeks as he waits for
her to react, breath caught in his throat.

After several endless moments she drops his wrist, burying her face in her hands as a sob
escapes her throat. “Oh, Harry,” she says sadly, voice dull and defeated.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice barely audible. He realizes he’s shaking a moment later when
she looks up, closing her eyes.

“Baby don’t be sorry.” She swallows, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He falls against
her shoulders, dissolving into a sob. “But Harry you have to tell me this stuff, okay? You
have to be honest with me Harry, you don’t understand how important that is.”

“Okay,” he sobs weakly. She cradles him against her shoulders, stroking his hair gently.

“Harry you understand how you can’t do this, right? This doesn’t solve anything at all.”
Harry flinches, pulling away and scrubbing a hand over his face hopelessly.

“I’m trying, mom,” he says desperately, looking back at her pleadingly. “I’m working on in
with Dr. Byrd and everything-”

“I know, sweetheart,” she murmurs soothingly, “and I’m proud of you, but I need you to be
honest with me, okay?” Harry nods rapidly, swallowing again.

“I’m glad you told me know,” she says tearfully, a moment later. “I need to know these
things, okay?”

And Harry nods apologetically and leans into her hug, at a loss for anything else to say.
***

He tells Louis about it a day later. They’re on his roof, Harry curled into Louis’ lap and
Louis’ arms wrapped around him, chin resting into his shoulder. Harry’s been quiet all day
which Louis has obviously picked up on, but hasn’t pressed him on it, instead providing him
with affection and comfort.

(God, Harry loves him so much).

“My mum found out about my cuts,” Harry says after several minutes, voice quiet and dull,
seeming to vibrate through the thick late summer air. Louis shifts behind him, nuzzling his
chin softly against Harry’s neck for comfort.

“How?” he asks gently, removing one arm from around Harry to comb his fingers through his
hair. He’s figured out the things that calm him down the most, that being one of them, and
Harry sinks closer into his chest.

“I had a, um, like a sheet? Like a paper I got from my therapist about like, different
alternatives and stuff to, you know-” he pauses, and Louis nods encouragingly, “-and I was
stupid enough to leave it on the table.”

“Baby,” Louis says sadly, “I’m really sorry, and that sounds really hard.” Harry nods silently,
pressing his face closer into Louis’ tee shirt and taking a breath.

“Love, I know you feel bad for ‘hurting’ her, and you’re blaming yourself, but maybe it could
be a good thing?” Harry looks up at him skeptically, and Louis continues. “I mean, she
already knew that you weren’t doing well, right? So maybe it’s good ‘cause now- now she’ll
be able to help you even more, since she knows everything?” Louis sounds slightly hesitant,
unsure, but Harry stares at him, transfixed.

“And I mean, she really deserves the truth now, don’t you think? Even though it’s hard to tell
her about it, which- I understand, it must be unbelievably hard, but this way it isn’t some dark
secret anymore? And you don’t have to worry about her finding out a lot later and feeling
betrayed.” He pauses, running a hand up Harry’s back. Harry stares at him for a moment,
eyes wide, and then falls against his chest again, shutting his eyes.

“You really do always make me feel better,” he says, slightly begrudgingly but mostly fondly,
and he smiles when Louis presses a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m glad,” he says firmly, “that’s what I want to do.” Harry laughs quietly, placing a hand on
the side of Louis’ cheek gently and brushing his lips against Louis’.

“So, um, we have school in two days,” Harry says a few seconds later, looking up nervously
at Louis. “And um, we’re still, like… people will still know that we’re together, right?”

“Of course,” Louis answers, as if he can’t believe the question. “I’ll pick you up on the first
day.” Harry nods, relieved and grateful, and rests his head against Louis’ chest again.

“I’m scared,” he whispers, voice unsteady and vulnerable. Louis kisses his forehead, rubbing
a hand soothingly up his back.

“I know, darling,” he says softly. “I know it doesn’t help, but I promise everything will be
alright. Chris is going to keep his ugly head down, and no one else is gonna do anything,
okay?”

Harry nods, despite the fact that he’s trembling in Louis’ arms. All he does in response is
squeeze Louis’ hand, hoping desperately that he’s right.

***

It’s quite possible that Louis is more nervous than Harry when he pulls up in front of his
driveway to pick him up for the first day.

He knows that Harry’s been growing increasingly anxious for today, and when he had spoken
to him the night before Louis could tell he was an absolute wreck (although, of course, he
wouldn’t admit it). After several minutes of coaxing and reassurance on the phone, Louis had
gotten him to admit that he’d relapsed, which, well. It destroys him, breaks his heart over and
over again to hear that, but he stays calm for Harry. The last thing he needs is more guilt.

Louis figures that most likely, Harry’s biggest source of fear is Chris and even he wouldn’t be
stupid enough to try to mess with Harry again but he hasn’t brought it up, figuring it’s a sore
subject and knowing that he’s probably discussing it with his therapist anyway. The one time
his name was brought up (Louis had carelessly made a flippant comment about the
inconvenience of seeing him again) Harry’s reaction had been immediate; he’d been cuddled
in Louis’ arms and Louis felt him tense up, heart rate speeding up and breath hitching. And if
that was his reaction to him being mentioned, Louis doesn’t want to think about how scared
he’ll be when he comes face to face with him.

(If, by any chance, Chris were stupid enough to do anything to Harry, then Louis would also
be stupid enough to risk his entire student record by attacking him again. He hopes it will
never come to that).
But even more than that, Harry’s told him how hard school can be for him; how draining and
overwhelming and terrifying it can be, and it breaks his heart a little bit that he has to
experience that every day, unrelenting and unbearable and exhausting pain, and he wishes he
could make it easier on him in some way, any way. It’s a slow process, and Louis thinks he’s
finally come close to accepting that; he’s begun to understand that when he’s in pain, it’s not
enough to just hold him and hope for it to go away. Still, though, it’s nothing short of
impossible to have to watch him like that, helpless to do anything but comfort him in vain.

So he tries to make the transition back to school as quick and painless as possible. He pulls
up to his house fifteen minutes early with an iced coffee for Harry, (milk and extra sugar) and
texts him to let him know he’s there. Harry emerges not thirty seconds later.

Louis smiles without thinking when he sees him − he’s wearing a light blue sweater and his
hair is tucked back into a beanie and he just looks soft, especially when he locks eyes with
Louis and gives him a weary smile.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Louis says, voice raspy and tired when Harry steps into the car. He leans in
to kiss him, brushing a few stray curls off his neck, running his thumb lightly over Harry’s
neck. When Harry smiles as he pulls away, cheeks pink and eyes wide, delight rises in Louis’
chest.

“I brought you a coffee.” He hands it to Harry and he smiles gratefully, taking it and sipping
it almost hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, voice raw. Louis smiles lovingly at him, squeezing his hand once
before revving up the engine.

“How do you feel, baby?” he asks gently, casting a brief concerned look to him.

“Terrible,” Harry answers flatly, taking another sip of his coffee. He sighs, turning to look
meekly up at Louis.

“What would help, love?” he asks kindly, and Harry swallows, shaking his head tiredly.

“You already do help,” Harry answers, and Louis smiles warmly.

“Okay,” he replies reluctantly, “but if there’s anything else I can do just… tell me, okay?”

Harry smiles, tired and defeated and slightly sad but still a smile nonetheless. It fades into
worry a few moments later, though, and then full blown panic after several more minutes
when Louis takes a turn onto the road just below the school parking lot.

When they pull up into the parking lot, backing into an empty space, Harry’s trembling
slightly, digging his nails into his palms, and it hurts Louis to watch. He’s been able to pick
up on Harry’s nervous tics- trembling hands, arms crossed over his chest and the worst, the
scratching at his own wrists, and from what Louis can tell, right now anxiety is truly eating
away at him. Ever so gently, he reaches over to touch his hand, surprising him out of his
trance.
“Hey,” he says softly, and Harry looks up, eyes wide. Louis brushes a thumb across his
cheek, layering his other hand just over Harry’s fingers. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. I
promise.” Harry nods quickly, curling his fingers around Louis’ hand. Louis glances briefly
out of the front window, casting his gaze over the dozens of people streaming past his car.

“We should get going,” he mumbles after a moment, swallowing, and Louis nods and opens
his door. He waits for Harry to gather his bag and fall into step beside him before wrapping
an arm protectively around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the side of his forehead,
making him laugh.

“What was that for?” he asks, and Louis is delighted when he sees that he’s genuinely
smiling. He grins warmly at him, this time pressing a light kiss to his nose.

“Gotta let everyone know that we’re still together, right?” he teases, and Harry laughs and
tucks himself closer into Louis’ side.

And apparently, it’s news to everyone else that they’re still together. They get a few stares as
they walk down the hallway; people had obviously thought that like most teenage
relationships, it would have fizzled out over the summer. Louis doesn’t care- a year ago he’d
be mocking the same people as him and Harry, but then again, who are they to judge?

Sometimes Louis has to remind himself that this is real life and not a romance novel, that he
should keep his expectations about their relationship in check. But then he glances back
towards Harry, curls falling delicately over his forehead and eyelashes shadowing bright
green eyes, and all his logic and reality seem to evaporate.

That’s not so bad, though.

Their first classes are side by side, so Louis keeps Harry close to him as they walk down the
hallway. Harry seems to have relaxed slightly, to Louis’ relief, but when the two of them
pause in front of Harry’s classroom his hands are quivering ever so slightly, a motion only
Louis would have picked up on.

“Hey.” Louis leans in right beside his ear, a gesture that could be interpreted as a kiss so
people won’t wonder what he’s saying. “Everything’s gonna be alright but if it isn’t, then I
mean- just tell me, okay? And I’ll handle it.”

“Are you like, my hitman now?” Harry says, a smile playing lightly on his lips, and Louis
laughs happily.

“Just say the word, Styles,” he teases, and Harry giggles, dropping his head onto Louis’
shoulder. “But seriously, baby, okay?”

Harry nods, giving him a small smile. “I’ll see you later.” He hesitates, locking his fingers in
between Louis’. “I love you,” he adds, quiet and shy.

“Love you too.” Louis presses a light but lasting kiss to his lips before squeezing his hands
once and continuing down the hallway.
 As he settles in, the day isn’t quite as bad as he’s anticipated, and the same goes for Harry. He
shares two classes with Harry and one with Niall and Zayn, which he’s thrilled about. He
knows that the others are all just as protective over Harry as he is, and he’s relieved for
Harry’s sake when he learns that for all classes except one, one of the other boys and Sophia
are there with him. Despite knowing that Harry can handle himself completely, he’ll be more
secure with someone sticking with him.

And to Louis’ relief, they have. Every time he catches Harry in the hallway, one of them is by
his side, chatting casually with him. Perhaps it’s the combination of their tension about Chris
and the fresh knowledge in their mind of Harry’s mental state, but all five of them stay closer
to him than they had last year. Harry doesn’t complain.

The start of the year is an overwhelming jolt to reality for Louis, though, as he’s faced
suddenly with the reality of Uni applications. This presents a problem, considering less than a
year ago he hadn’t planned on graduating, much less actually going to University. Things
have changed, though; things really couldn’t be any more different than they’d been last year,
and even though the stress of it is threatening to engulf him, he still wants to try.

Overall, though, the first week goes by surprisingly smoothly and quickly. Louis barely sees
Chris, besides a few glances in the hallway, and according to Harry they haven’t had even the
smallest interaction. Things are alright with his family- the girls all muddle through their first
week of classes and his mom is working full time, so he helps out a bit, but he’s happy to. He
spends time with the lads and mostly Harry, who, to his intense relief is taking everything
quite well- he hasn’t recovered, not by a longshot, but it’s a process and Louis is so incredibly
proud.

After a while, though, it leaves him wondering when things are going to fall.

Chapter End Notes

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 Chapter 23
Chapter Notes

Thanks for putting up with my terrible update schedule.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

During Harry’s third session with Dr. Byrd, he works up the courage to ask her a question
that’s been hovering in the back of his mind for some time.

“What do you, um, what do you know about, like, antidepressants?” He bites his lip, shifting
slightly on the couch uncomfortably. Dr. Byrd leans forward, touching her chin.

“Well, I know a lot about them. What do you want to know about them?”

“Like, um- like who’s allowed to prescribe them, and… and what they do, and everything.”
Harry takes a sharp, nervous breath, looking back up at her.

“Well, I’m a psychologist and only psychiatrists are able to prescribe medicine.” She pauses,
fixing him with a serious look. “And what most meds do is balance out the chemicals in your
brain so you have an even balance of dopamine, in the simplest terms.” Harry nods, and she
leans back. “What’s making you ask?”

“I just- I dunno if they might, like, help me?” He swallows, locking his fingers together.

“Well, I’ve been seeing you for about a month and a half. And typically, I try to wait about
two and a half months before recommending my patients try meds.” She pauses, watching
Harry’s face for any reactions. “But, it depends on how you’re feeling. And how is that? In
general.”

“I, um-” Harry bites his lip. “Still not- not really good.”

“You told me that you’ve had the urge to self harm several times, and you’ve only gone
through with it once, in the last week.” Harry nods. “Now obviously, that’s progress
compared to, say, how you were doing with that two months ago.” It’s hardly progress ,
Harry thinks bitterly, but he nods again anyway. “But also, that, of course is not the only
factor in how you’re feeling.”

“Yeah, I um- I mean, talking about it has felt better, but like- I still feel really bad a lot of the
time. Like I’ll just get these long stretches of feeling really really sad or nervous about
something, and just… really dark, for a long time.” He takes a breath and shivers slightly,
wondering again if he’ll ever be able to express that without feeling ashamed.
“How often would you say you get these stretches of sadness? Once a day?”

“Probably more like a few times a day,” Harry mumbles.

“And is there any particular trigger? Or any time of day?”

“No, it’s just- I mean, obviously if something bad happens like, I don’t know, I get a bad
grade or I feel like I pissed someone off, then they’ll come but it’s not- it’s not just that. It
happens randomly too.” Harry takes a breath, scrubbing a hand across his face. “And I can try
to like- distract myself, or use breathing exercises, but it really- there’s not really much that
can make it feel better.”

“And Harry -I promise this isn’t an accusation- but has it changed since we started meeting?
Don’t feel like you have to say yes, I promise that’s not why I’m asking.” She smiles warmly,
and Harry relaxes slightly.

“I, um- I mean, it’s really helpful to talk but like, I don’t know. I feel like I’ll feel like this
forever, because like… it hasn’t really changed since I started seeing you.” His voice is dull
and quiet, and he lifts his eyes to her nervously.

She nods understandingly. “Well, as you know, recovery is a long process. And it makes
sense that you don’t feel a big change, since it hasn’t even been two months. But then again,
many people experience a change after just a few weeks.” She pauses, letting Harry absorb
this. “Like I said, I usually wait about three months before recommending antidepressants,
but I also don’t want you to go another six weeks and feel terrible.” Harry nods in agreement.
“Would it be okay if I told you the idea I have?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Harry says, nodding.

“Alright, well here’s what I think we should do. I think we should wait two weeks before
talking to a psychiatrist about medication. But I think in the next two weeks you should track
your emotions by writing the time, and any kind of trigger.” Harry’s not thrilled about that
and it must show, because she smiles sympathetically. “I know, all my patients hate it but it
can still help.”

“Um, okay,” he says, giving her a reluctant smile. “And after that?”

“After that, we’ll look at what you’ve written, and if it’s really random bouts of sadness, then
I would recommend a psychiatrist to you. But you’d be surprised by how often people
overlook triggers.” Harry taps his fingers against his knee as he considers this. “Does that
sound alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll do it.”

So he leaves her office with a folder of graphic organizers of triggers and emotions,
wondering how this will change a thing.

***
One day, around early October, Louis arrives home to find an unfamiliar car parked lazily in
his own driveway, stretched across the entire length of the parking area inconsiderately.
Carefully, Louis pulls over just outside of the garage, stepping slowly out of the car and
walking over to examine it.

He can see how expensive it is; even compared to his own sports car, it must cost a fortune.
For a moment Louis just stares, bewildered and confused, wondering if maybe his mother
had gotten some kind of a bonus, if she'd invited a friend over. After a few moments it dawns
on him exactly who would own that type of car, and his stomach lurches uncomfortably.

Heart racing, he strides towards the house and yanks open the front door, body tense with
unpleasant anticipation. His horrible theory is proven correct when he lays eyes on Mark, six
feet away from him and carrying a duffle bag.

For a moment the two of them stare at each other, icy resentment filling the space between
them. Desperately, Louis tries to brace himself for any kind of physical attack, but mark
doesn't seem particularly interested. He keeps his eyes on him, judging and expectant, until
Louis finally speaks.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Louis asks darkly, voice steady and dangerous. Mark
narrows his eyes, setting his bag down beside him heavily.

“Gathering the last of my things,” he says coldly, “or is that forbidden now? Are you running
the household?”

“Does mom know you’re here?” Louis replies sharply, stepping forward. Every shred of pent
up, pushed down anger over the last month towards Mark is rising in his chest, boiling to the
top so strongly that he can’t ignore it. Louis curls his fingers into fists, bracing himself for a
threat.

“No,” he says shortly. “I think I’m allowed to be in my own home.”

“This isn’t your home.” Louis’ voice is trembling, every syllable dripping with hatred. “You
have no right to be here, not after you left mom and your daughters and threatened me.”

“Left them?” Mark scoffs, shaking his head as a smirk stretches across his face. “I’d hardly
say I left them; your mother decided that you were more important than me and she threw me
out. I’d say it was excessively generous of me to leave you with the house and the money that
I did.”

“Yeah?” Louis laughs bitterly, taking another step forward. “You left her nothing compared to
what you still have. You let us stay in this house because you knew it would look bad if CEO
Mark Tomlinson threw his wife and kids onto the street. Everything you’ve done to help us
has been mundane and selfish and as far as I’m concerned, you have no right to be here. So
get out.”

Mark scowls darkly at him, pursing his lips before stepping slowly towards the door.
“If you come back again without permission I’m telling mom,” Louis calls after a second
thought, and Mark doesn’t look at him. As he turns the handle, he swings around to look at
Louis, eyes dark and full of venom.

“You’re still a disgrace,” he spits icily. Louis grits his teeth, raising his eyebrows. “I hope you
enjoy what you did to this family, that your mother accepted your disgusting habits. It won’t
work out for you.” Louis fixes him with a cold, unimpressed look, shaking his head as hatred
and pity .

“By the way, your boyfriend’s name is what, Styles?” he drawls, and now Louis steps
forward, tensing. “I know of his mother, I think, she’s some pediatric nurse? Middle class?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t believe what you’ve sacrificed for some faggot that you won’t
remember six months from now.”

Louis surges forward, preparing to hurt him but then he stops himself and stares, shaking his
head.

“You don’t know anything about me or him.” His voice is dull, careless now, and Mark looks
confused and almost disappointed that Louis hadn’t hurt him. “Now leave. I don’t owe you
anything.” Mark keeps his eyes on Louis for a moment, as if waiting for him to say
something else. Louis just watches him blankly until he steps outside and shuts the door,
quiet falling over the house.

Louis doesn’t bother to watch him leave. He realizes it’s the first time that he’s spoken to
Mark and felt completely careless afterwards.

It’s a good realization.

***

A week after he spoke to Dr. Byrd, Harry arrives home to what he believes is an empty
house. So far, he’s done fairly well with his ‘tracking’; he felt ridiculous having to write
down how he felt every few hours, but he had to admit, if reluctantly, that it was helping him
track the cause of his sudden bursts of misery. Still, he finds himself randomly overcome with
sadness time and time again, and when he reports that to her, she tells him that she believes
he might be a candidate for medicine.

Harry just wants to feel better. Which is strange, considering for two years he’s felt too
exhausted to even consider recovery- it had seemed too foreign, too distant for him to reach.
Now though, it’s beginning to seem more and more possible, and he’s desperate to get there.

It’s frustrating beyond belief, though, when he can’t seem to feel a difference. Byrd had told
him that that’s normal, that all victims of mental illness feel discouraged at first, and he’s sure
she’s right, but even so, it’s rather deflating.

When he arrives home that day, he does a double take when he walks into his kitchen to find
his sister, standing over the counter as she scrolls through her phone. When he enters she
looks up, eyes wide.
“Gemma,” Harry says, blinking as he sets his bag down. She stares at him, biting her lip and
not saying a word, not letting her eyes stray from his. “You didn’t tell me you’d be home this
weekend.”

She’s silent for a moment, intertwining her fingers and twisting them nervously. “Mom called
me the other day,” she mumbles, “and told me that you- she told me a lot of bad stuff, Harry.”
Harry’s heart drops, throat dry as he tries to manage a response.

“What did she tell you?” he says unsteadily, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.
Gemma glares at him, but her usual harshness is gone and she’s staring at him with a mix of
desperation and pain.

“You’re gonna make me say it?” She shakes her head bitterly as Harry grits his teeth, staring
at her coldly. “Fine. You’re depressed and you cut yourself and you want to kill yourself.”
She spits out the last two words almost vengefully, but her voice cracks and her hostility
fades. “What the fuck, Harry? You didn’t tell us?”

“I can’t believe she told you,” Harry says stiffly, because he can’t think how else to reply.
He’s had some version of this conversation over and over, and yet it hasn’t gotten any easier,
and Harry hasn’t gotten any stronger. Gemma’s face softens slightly.

“Don’t be mad at her, I kind of forced it out of her.” She scrubs a hand across her forehead,
face crumpling into anguish. “Harry do you know how it felt to hear that? You’ve wanted to
die for, what’d she say, two years? And you never thought to say anything?”

“How can you say that to me when you know how this feels?” Harry takes a sharp breath,
placing his hands on the table. “I mean, you went through stuff like this in secondary school,
right? I remember you being in therapy.” Gemma opens her mouth and shuts it, blinking
sadly. “So how can you act like it’s easy to tell people this?” Harry squeezes his eyes shut,
willing himself to stay strong. “Gemma, I’m getting ‘help’ now. Isn’t that enough? Can’t you,
of all people, understand this?”

She watches him in stunned silence for a few moments before swallowing and speaking
again. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is wretched and heartbroken. “I- Harry I was so so unhappy in
secondary school, and I just- I know it’s hard to tell people, I really do, and I didn’t mean to
yell at you.” She pauses, biting her lip nervously, and Harry takes a deep breath. “But I- I
never wanted you to have to go through the same thing, and from what I’ve heard it sounds
like you’re much worse than I was.” Harry stays silent, her words weighing heavily on him.
She runs her fingers through her long hair, taking another deep breath.

“I’m really sorry, Harry,” she finally says defeatedly, staring at him as she waits for a
reaction. Harry returns her stare bleakly, too exhausted to reply. “I’m glad you’re working on
it now, with a professional? That’ll- that can really help, it helped me a lot.” Harry nods,
unsure of what to say.

They’re quiet for a moment, the silence filling the room thickly and seeming to stretch on
endlessly. And then Gemma surges forward, throwing her arms around Harry’s neck and
burying her face in his shoulder for a moment before taking a breath and pulling away.
“I love you, you idiot,” she says softly, but her eyes are glistening with tears. “If anything
happened to you I’d be really fucking lost.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says hoarsely, guilt rising in his chest. Gemma shakes her head
desperately.

“Don’t be sorry, I just- I can’t live without you, you know? I just wanna make sure you
know.” Her voice is higher than usual, but she still manages a smile, if a slightly tearful one.
Harry nods wordlessly, hugging her again.

“Hey, you wanna watch a movie?” she asks suddenly, and Harry blinks, surprised. “I can
make popcorn and hot chocolate and we can watch something?”

“Yeah.” Harry smiles, squeezing her hand. “That sounds good.”

When Anne gets home, she finds her daughter and son piled under several blankets, two
mugs of hot chocolate and a bowl of popcorn abandoned on the coffee table. 21 Jump Street
is playing in the background and Gemma’s head is on Harry’s shoulder. It takes her a moment
to realize that both of them are asleep.

She knows they’ll kill her, but she takes a picture adoringly.

***
True to Dr. Byrd’s word, two weeks later Harry finds himself in her office, the graphic
organizers spread across the coffee table as the two of them look it through. For the most
part, Harry just watches her read it, occasionally noticing her furrow her brow or frown or
bite her lip, until he can't bear it and he instead stares down at his hands, bouncing his leg up
and down anxiously as he waits for her to finish. His mom is waiting outside, present at the
request of Dr. Byrd because she’d explained that Anne would have to be part of the decision
making process. Harry was less than thrilled about that, but had no choice but to let her come.

“So, Harry,” she finally says, lifting her head to meet his eyes, “what did you think of this
activity?” Harry gives her a slightly exasperated look before answering truthfully.

“It was terrible,” he says flatly. She laughs, shaking her head.

“I know, everyone thinks that.” She straightens up, sweeping the papers into a pile on her
desk. “But did you find it helpful in terms of being able to identify how you were feeling?”

Harry considers this briefly. “I guess,” he says carefully, “but like, I don’t know, it didn’t
really change anything for me.” She nods understandingly.

“Alright, that was why I wanted you to try it.” She pauses, tapping her nails against the desk.
“I think it’s very possible that you could benefit from medication, especially if you’re saying
you haven’t felt much of a change since starting therapy.” Harry nods nervously, unsure of
how to respond.

“And you feel completely okay with the idea of starting medication?” she asks seriously,
watching him intently. Harry nods again, this time with more confidence.
“Yeah, I, um, I just wanna try it, you know?” he says hoarsely. She nods.

“Alright. Is it okay if I talk to your mom alone about this?” Biting his lip, Harry nods. He’s
floated the idea of medication to her, but it’s still a sore subject between the two of them to
talk about depression, and it makes Harry incredibly anxious to know she’s thinking about it.
He stands up, though, opening the door and beckoning for her to come in. She walks past
him, squeezing his arm gently before letting the door swing shut. Harry collapses into the
nearest seat, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his head into his hands, taking several
unsteady breaths.

About ten minutes later, she opens the door and waves him in. Harry enters, sitting next to his
mom on the couch and glancing timidly between the two of them.

“So,” Dr. Byrd begins, clearing her throat, “your mom is on board with the idea of a psych
evaluation, and she understands why you think it would be helpful.” Harry nods, relieved,
and his mom reaches over to grab his hand.

“I’ve given her a list of psychiatrists that I trust,” Byrd continues, “and so she’s going to
make an appointment and then let me know.”

“Okay,” Harry answers nervously, swallowing. “I, um, thanks mom.”

“Of course, sweetie,” she says softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looks
exhausted, and Harry feels so guilty.

They don’t talk about it anymore after that.

***

The psychiatric evaluation is about as enjoyable as Harry expected it to be. He sits in a clean,
crisp office across from a woman named Dr. Carol, who Dr. Byrd promised him would be
great. She's nice enough; perhaps too nice, because her bright, seemingly permanent smile
starts to make Harry uncomfortable after quite some time.

It's a barrage of questions about his feelings; how he reacts to other people around him, how
he handles speaking in public, how often he hurts himself and thinks about suicide, until they
all blur together and it feels like Harry is answering them on autopilot. He’s finished after an
hour and half that seems to stretch on eternally, growing more unbearable every passing
second.

Finally, his mother comes in, and the room seems to shrink even more. Harry crosses his
arms over his chest inadvertantly as she enters, looking almost fearful of what she’s going to
find.

“Mrs. Cox,” Carol says warmly, gesturing to the love seat, and Anne sits, flashing her a brief
smile. “Thanks for coming in.”

Harry steals a brief glance towards his mother- she looks so tired, so worried, the lines
around her mouth pinched with concern, and Harry swallows the guilt that’s rising in his
chest. Dr. Carol looks between the two of them and when neither of them speak, she clears
her throat.

“So, I talked to Harry,” she begins, stating the obvious. “And from what I’ve gathered, we’re
looking at severe depression and a general anxiety disorder, as well as a social anxiety
disorder. This is what your therapist -Dr. Byrd- said that she had predicted, but, obviously,
you know that there hasn’t been an official diagnosis yet since she isn’t technically
qualified.”

There’s something about hearing those words that settles heavily in Harry’s head and chest,
an ache forming. It shouldn’t come as a surprise- he’s known that he’s probably had some
combination of those illnesses for years, and he’s spoken to Dr. Byrd about it, but there’s
something about the ‘official diagnosis’ that strikes him. He feels toxic, almost, like someone
had slapped a warning label onto him, a way to categorize himself.

Harry glances over to his mother, and her reaction is painful. It’s so subtle that it would have
been easy to over look; her eyebrows knit together the slightest bit and her lips are quivering
until she purses them together, sitting up taller as though trying to regain her posture. She
looks towards Harry, her eyes full of sadness, and Harry lowers his gaze quickly so she
doesn’t have to see it.

“Now,” Dr. Carol continues, shaking him out of his thoughts, “in my opinion, you fit the
criteria for medication. Criteria. As if it’s some contest, some desirable competition. Harry
bites his lip. “However, since you’re struggling with both anxiety and depression, we have to
take them both into consideration when deciding what to start with.”

“What do you mean?” Anne says, pressing her fingertips together. “There’s not a medication
that suits both?”

“Well, there are some that target both, but I wouldn’t usually prescribe them to minors,” she
explains patiently, eyes flickering between the two of them. “But, from what I can tell, a lot
of Harry’s anxiety comes from his depression, and vice versa. So I think that if we could
target one, it might take the other out. Do you agree?” The question is directed at Harry and it
startles him.

“Um.” He swallows, kneading his fingers into the cushion of the chair. “Yeah, I guess, I
mean- I’ve never really thought about it that way.” He supposes it makes sense, that the two
of them would come hand in hand for him. He’s had countless times where he’s tried to
distinguish the two of them and ended up blurring them together.

Dr. Carol nods, like she isn’t surprised. “A lot of people don’t think of that at first.” Anne
stares at her, fingernails digging into the arm of the chair.

“So what I would recommend,” Dr. Carol continues, smiling sympathetically at Harry, “is
that we try Zoloft. The one I’d prescribe you to is specifically meant for depression, but can
benefit both. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, um, you’re the expert,” Harry says nervously. She smiles warmly, turning to
Anne.
“Does that sound okay, Ms. Cox?” she asks, and Anne hesitates before answering.

“Yeah,” she says finally. “If you think it will help then yes, it does.” Dr. Carol nods.

“Alright.” She turns to her computer and types something, leaving Harry and his mother in a
heavy silence. “We’re going to start with twenty five milligrams, which probably won’t have
much of an effect, but we have to if you want to avoid side effects- nausea, headaches, sleep
interruption…” Harry nods, and she continues typing.

“Alright, so can we make an appointment three weeks from now?” Harry nods, gives her a
date and then finds himself walking out next to his mother in a tight silence.

He takes the medication the next night for the first time, hoping desperately that the tiny pill
will hold what he needs.

***

Towards the beginning of November, Harry finally settles into a bit of a routine with school,
and things seem to have adjusted from the initial school year anxiety. Things aren’t perfect by
any means, but he’s just started taking medication and things haven’t worsened, which is
good enough for now.

He’s leaning against his locker, scrolling through Instagram and waiting for Louis to finish up
a meeting with his coach because Louis claimed he had a plan for them after school. Harry
had pretended to be indignant about having to wait for him while secretly thrilled. Still, at
this point he’s impatient, so it’s a relief when he hears the door swing open and Louis strides
out, smiling warmly when he sees him.

“Hi,” Louis says happily, placing his hands on Harry’s hips and pressing a light kiss to his
lips. Harry smiles fondly, kissing him and dropping his head against Louis’ chest.

“Hi,” he replies, wrapping his arms around Louis’ stomach as Louis throws an arm
protectively over his shoulder. “Where are you taking me this time?”

“Patience, babe,” Louis teases, and Harry rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. “It’s nothing big,
so don’t get your hopes up.”

“You’re not kidnapping me, are you?” Harry lifts his eyes to Louis’ teasingly, and Louis
grimaces jokingly.

“How’d you figure it out?” Louis replies cheekily, and Harry smacks his shoulder lightly.
Louis laughs, pushing open the front door. When they step outside, Harry startles when he
sees Chris, leaning against the railing with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Harry feels Louis straighten up beside, him, tightening his arms around Harry. In response, he
sinks slightly closer into Louis, tensing.

Chris stares at the two of them, eyes dark and cold as he looks them over. Louis doesn’t take
his eyes off him either as he takes a drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke evaporate into the
air as he watches them carelessly.
“Didn’t think you two’d last the summer.” Louis grits his teeth, stepping forward, but Harry
squeezes his arm as a warning. “Thought you might’ve reconsidered what you were doing,
Tomlinson. Still didn’t strike me as a fag after our little fight last year.”

Louis clenches his hands into a fist, stepping away from Harry and towards Chris but Harry
squeezes his hand pulling him back.

“Louis,” he says quietly, and Louis turns around, eyes softening. “C’mon, we have
somewhere to be.” He gives Louis a small smile - It’s okay, he really isn’t worth it - and tugs
him further away. Louis gives in, stepping back and wrapping his arm around Harry again.

“Fuck off, Chris,” Harry says coldly, before pulling Louis towards the car. He doesn’t look
back to see his reaction.

Louis steps into the car after him, blinking with surprise. “Nice going, babe,” he says,
grinning, and then frowns when he sees Harry biting his lip, eyes shut tightly. “Hey, hey,
what’s wrong?”

“I, um…” Harry swallows, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know, it’s just- he gets to me, you
know? I wish he didn’t. I mean he doesn’t even- I don’t even interact with him anymore.” He
runs his fingers up his wrist lightly and Louis reaches over to touch his hand gently, eyes
sympathetic.

“Of course he does, baby, he really hurt you.” Louis’ voice hardens towards the end of the
sentence, squeezing Harry’s hand. “There’s no way that you would be able to immediately
move on from something like that, even if you never see him anymore.” Harry nods, relieved
at Louis’ explanation.

“Thanks,” he says softly, and Louis leans over to touch his cheek gently and kiss his
forehead.

“You ready to go now?” He asks after a moment, when Harry’s calmed down. Harry nods,
giving him a genuine smile and taking another breath.

Louis plays Ed Sheeran (his songs have become their anthem, so to speak), and tells Harry
about how he’s captain of the football team for the second year in a row. and even as Harry
listens adoringly, he grows impatient the longer they’ve been driving. After about fifteen
minutes, his indignation gets the best of him.

“Just tell me where we’re going,” he snaps good naturedly, and Louis laughs.

“Alright, damn.” He casts Harry a mock disappointed look and Harry scowls at him. “A
picnic kinda thing, we’re like two minutes away.”

“Why a picnic?” Harry muses, furrowing his eyebrows. Louis glances over at him, smiling.

“Well,” he pauses dramatically, smirking at Harry. “As you might recall, we met nine months
ago today.”
Frantically, Harry does the math in his head- and yes, it’s November third and he had
switched into Louis’ class on February third, the beginning of the second trimester.

“Shit!” he says loudly, and Louis laughs. “I completely forgot-”

“Babe, it’s a nine month anniversary, there was nothing to forget.” Harry snorts at that,
casting an adoring look to Louis. “But still, I wanted an excuse to do something special with
you.” As if on cue, the car slows to a stop at the bottom of a hill. When Harry peers out the
window, it occurs to him that this is part of a small, beautifully preserved local park that most
residents seemed to have forgotten about. It’s overrun with daisies and lush grass and the
sunset has washed the whole thing in a golden tint, and it looks like something out of a
Disney movie. He smiles lovingly at Louis, leaning in to give him a long, soft kiss.

“C’mon,” Louis says softly, tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear and opening his door, waiting
for Harry to get out of the car. As Louis removes something from the trunk, Harry takes a few
steps up the hill, surveying the area.

“Hey,” Louis jogs up to him, one hand toting a plastic bag and the other concealed behind his
back. Close your eyes. Smiling, Harry does. “Okay, open.”

When he opens, Louis is kneeling down. Harry blinks.

“Are you proposing?” Louis cocks his head, rolling his eyes.

“No, obviously, I’m just-” Breaking off, he shakes his head and hands Harry a rose, smiling
up at him. “It’s just a little present, to remind you that I love you, and I’m really glad we met
nine months ago.” Harry giggles, taking it and beaming at him.

“Thank you.” When Louis stands up, Harry winds his arms around his neck and kisses him,
long and lingering. “I love you a lot.” Louis smiles at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before
sitting down again, Harry joining him.

“And I brought snacks and drinks-” He hands Harry a coke, and Harry thanks him with a
quick kiss to his cheek, “-so I thought we could just, like, hang here for a bit.”

“That sounds perfect,” Harry says happily, tucking himself under Louis’ arm and leaning
against his chest. Louis presses a soft kiss to his hair, stroking a hand over it.

They stay for a long time, laughing and teasing each other and feeding each other crisps (they
really have become an embarrassing couple). After a while they fall quiet and just lay
together- Harry’s head tucked under Louis’ chin, arms tangled around each other in a soft,
comforting embrace.

“Lou?” Harry says after a few minutes. “Nine months ago, did you think we’d ever get
here?”

Louis’ quiet for a moment, tracing his fingers aimlessly over Harry’s back lightly. “Not at
all,” he says truthfully. “But I’m so glad we did, baby.” Harry snuggles closer to him.

Sometimes things are perfect.

Chapter End Notes

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want.

If you leave comments and kudos I'm in love with you.

Also shoutout to the anon who gave me the rose idea, ily!
 Chapter 24
Chapter Notes

omg so......there's only the epilogue after this :( I'm gonna save all the sappy stuff for
next update so right now, enjoy! Also, this is unbetaed, so I apologize.

Warning for smut!! Message me if you want a version without it!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The meds don’t start to kick in for another six weeks, but when they do, it’s noticeable.

The first three weeks are incredibly deflating. There’s just something so exhausting, so
unbelievably discouraging about being told something is supposed to help and then it not
helping, that it probably contributes to his mental state instead of improving it. Because
really, on paper his life should be perfect. School is remotely easy this year; he has classes
with his friends and his grades are decent and everyone who he’d formerly dreaded seeing are
now too terrified of Louis to do anything. His three best friends are incredible and Sophia,
while he sees her less, is amazing. He has an impossibly amazing relationship.

The thing about being depressed while your life is good is that there’s no real catalyst,
nothing to really trace it back too. There’s the overwhelming sadness, but it’s far less frequent
than the long stretches of numbness or exhaustion, a constant feeling of agitation and
discomfort. He finds himself reacting to littler things because of that; a simple conversation
will leave him feeling unhappy for hours on end and for no apparent reason.

When he explains this to Dr. Byrd, she doesn’t seem surprised. “That’s part of depression,
especially when you first start medication. A lot of people expect it to work right away, but it
usually doesn’t kick in for about a month. You’ve just got to be patient, Harry.”

“And also, I still think that there are triggers to when you start feeling especially bad. Even
the smallest things can affect you more than you know.” He nods stoically -they’ve been
through this- and she seems to know that he’s slightly fed up with hearing this, because she
gives him a long and sympathetic look.

“Can you think of anything, any small events that might have upset you? It can be as little as
dropping your phone?” It makes him feel slightly better that she isn’t invalidating anything-
obviously, this is far better than her dismissing certain trivial event, so Harry thinks for a
moment.

“Uh-” He pauses briefly, reflecting on the last several days. “Okay, um, there was a day -last
Friday, I think- where I forgot about a homework assignment, just completely didn’t do it,
and like- it’s not a big deal and the teacher didn’t even notice but like, I just felt really bad
inside all day?” He feels slightly foolish admitting it, but Dr. Byrd nods seriously.
“See, that is a perfect example. There are certain events that can seem irrelevant on the
surface, but they can drag up certain feelings like guilt, or being too hard on yourself, or
feeling insecure, and those feelings can make you feel much worse.” She gives him a quick
glance and Harry nods -that makes sense, after all- so she continues. “When you feel your
mood seriously drop, I want you to think back to that day and try to remember anything, no
matter how small, that made you feel worse. Because if it impacted you, then it is a big deal.”

So for a few weeks, Harry tries this. To his surprise, it really does make a difference; he’s
able to tether his emotions back to a certain inconvenience during the day, which allows him
to let go of it faster. He’s shocked at how much it works, really, but it really does seem to
help.

Maybe that’s part of the reason he doesn’t really notice at first when the medicine starts to
kick in. By now, he’s on a hundred grams of Zoloft (the first therapeutic dose, according to
his psychologist), and there’s a shift when it starts working. He doesn’t really think anything
of it until he really sits down to think about it.

It’s in the middle of a day that’s gone fairly well for him, ‘fairly well’ meaning no crippling
episodes of panic or sadness. Normally, he wouldn’t really have given it a second thought,
just having dismissed it as a better day than usual, but he realizes that there have been days
like this for about two weeks in a row. When he checks his calendar, it dawns on him that this
would be three weeks after he’d started the hundred grams dosage and four weeks after the
seventy five one, the one that both his shrinks had said would probably start to make a
difference.

It leaves him feeling content. Extremely cautiously optimistic, but content.

***

It takes Harry several weeks to work up the courage to tell the others about the medicine.

He knows they’ll be supportive, that’s not his concern; it’s just that there’s such a cultural
stigma around meds that even Harry has been a victim of, and he doesn’t want it to change
their view on him. The word ‘antidepressants’ has such a negative connotation, and despite
the fact that his friends are quite possibly the most supportive people on earth, he doesn’t
want to change their image of him. He puts it off, too; it’s not as if he can easily slip “By the
way, I’m taking antidepressants” into a conversation, so he lets it simmer, manifesting itself
like an ugly secret even though it isn’t really one.

He finally finds the right time a few days before Halloween. The six of them, Sophia
included, have all congregated Liam’s basement to play fifa (well, Louis and Niall and Liam
mostly play fifa. Harry, Sophia and Zayn play the role of supportive significant others while
chatting on the side about their own lives).

Eventually, Niall and Louis toss down their remotes in defeat, griping irritably about how
Liam cheated as he smirks contently. Liam shakes his head, grinning as he turns to the others.

“So how’ve you all been?” It’s a reasonable question- the reality of school has started to
affect all of them, and they’ve had less and less time to catch up. Niall shrugs, kicking his
legs up so he’s taking up the couch, much to the dismay of Louis and Liam.

“I don’t know, man, school is killing me,” Niall grumbles, and there’s a murmur of
agreement. Sophia shrugs, draping an arm around Harry’s neck as he rests her chin on his
shoulder.

“I dunno, I’ve been alright,” she comments nonchalantly, glancing around. Harry nods
absently.

“Yeah, I mean, I started meds and that’s kind of helped.” He sort of rushes it, slipping it in as
if hoping that they would process it and not react. Their reaction is far less dramatic than he’d
anticipated- Louis had already known, but the other cast him a mildly serious glance.

“You’re on meds?” Niall says, confused but almost hopeful. Harry nods self consciously,
trading a quick look with Louis, who gives him a warm smile.

“That’s really good, man,” Zayn says sincerely, smiling as Liam nods rapidly. Harry gives
them a small smile, and he’s grateful when they don’t push any more questions on him.

He’s so relieved after they know- telling them about Dr. Byrd had been one thing, since they
had all been pressing him for that, but this had seemed somehow more nerve wracking to
him. It had felt almost like he was keeping a secret, lying to them even though it hadn’t been
anything like that, and he feels slightly less tense when they know. Harry is reminded again
and again of how good his friends are, and this is no exception to that.

***

It’s the end of November- the crisp autumn air has long swept over Doncaster and winter has
started to approach, leaving the city shrouded in orange and chilly air. This time last year,
Louis had been bitterly complaining to Zayn about how much he hated cold weather- less
time to play footie and more time holed up in the house with Mark, but his outlook could not
be more different this year. Instead, he spends it wrapped up in front of a fireplace with Harry
watching Christmas movies or laughing with his friends while sipping cocoa, and he’s happy.
He’s so much happier than he could have pictured being.

But even with an overwhelming amount of positive things in his life, there’s still several
stress factors, the main one being uni applications. Since he hadn’t really considered it the
year before he’s now scrambling to get caught up on information, which requires lots of late
nights at the kitchen table with his mother, pouring over university guides as she tries well
meaningly to help. The process was grueling.

Not to mention the issue of trying to bring up his grades. By the end of the year, he had been
doing remotely well thanks to Harry, but his grades from before that were a travesty. He’s
still clinging to the hope of a football scholarship somewhere -that’s got to be his only hope
on getting a full ride to any school- but at this point his expectations are exceedingly low and
he’s praying to even get accepted.

In the end, he turns all of his applications in for early decision; It’s easier to get in on that, for
most places, and it gives him the opportunity to keep looking if he’s rejected. He applies
mostly to schools in London, a few in Liverpool and two in Paris; all very good schools that
he would be thrilled to be accepted to. He’s hoping for one in London, though. It’s
comfortingly close to home, it’s a great city, and Zayn is going to London School of Arts and
Fashion (he hasn’t been accepted yet, but he obviously will) and they’ve agreed to get an
apartment together if they’re in the same city. For the first time, he’s actually excited at the
prospect.

A day after he turns in the application, Louis calls Harry and asks him to meet him at a coffee
shop.

Harry and Louis are sitting on opposite sides of a coffee table, irrelevant in the midst of late
afternoon rush hour. Harry is smarter than most people he knows, and he trusts him more
than anyone he knows, so he’s happy to have his advice.

“So what’s up?” Harry asks, fixing him with a serious look.

“So, you obviously know I’m applying to uni now.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, slightly confused, Louis clears his throat.

“Yeah.” He rubs a hand over his face tiredly, giving Harry a lazy smile and taking a sip of his
coffee. “I just wanted to basically update you, kinda.” Harry raises his eyebrows.

“I’m younger than you,” he points out, and Louis rolls his eyes fondly.

“I know that,” Louis says indignantly, balling up the end of his straw wrapper and tossing it
at Harry. He ducks and laughs, making Louis smile. “I just, uh- I’m almost done applying,
and I sent in stuff to King’s College, and University of London, and University of Liverpool.
And a couple of smaller ones in London, and a few in Paris since I don’t think I’m gonna get
into any of those ones I just… wanted to let you know, and know what you think.” He’s
almost shy as he cocks his head towards Harry, bashful smile playing on his lips.

Harry smiles, all of his features soft, and reaches across to cling to Louis’ hand. Gently, Louis
massages a thumb over his knuckles.

“You applied to a lot of London colleges,” Harry observes, not quite meeting Louis’ eyes.
Louis nods.

“Yeah, well, it’s a great city and it’s close enough to here, so…” He doesn’t mention that
when listing schools, Harry had played a significant role in his choosing. He hadn’t ruled out
any far schools, but when he’d pictured going overseas, or being excessively far from him or
the rest of his loved ones, it had been a deal breaker. “And Zayn applied to a lot of London
colleges, so we’ll get a flat together if we end up going,” he adds. Harry nods.

“I think it’s really good, Lou.” He pauses briefly. “And you could absolutely get into Kings or
University of London,” he adds intently, and Louis snorts.

“Thanks, babe.” Louis takes another sip, glancing down briefly. “I wouldn’t be applying if it
weren’t for you,” he says seriously, bringing his free hand onto Harry’s. So seriously, thank
you for this.”

Harry fixes him with a gentle look, eyes full of emotion. “I’m really glad, Louis,” he
whispers with overwhelming sincerity. Louis stares back at him adoringly, consumed with
love for him. Lost for words, he simply squeezes Harry’s hand.

It says enough.

***

On their ten month anniversary of the day they met, Louis invites Harry to come over for
dinner. Normally, they would have gone out, but Louis had the house to himself- his mum
had taken the girls to see some show on West End, leaving Louis in charge, and they’d both
wanted to relax.

And also, Louis had wanted to surprise him. After scouring the internet for several hours,
consulting with an exasperated grocery store girl for several more and yelling at Zayn, Liam
and Niall during three separate phone calls for help, he’d perfected a dish that would impress
even the snobbiest of customers (and really, Harry couldn’t be further from snobby). Mostly,
though, he’d just wanted Harry to feel special.

He arrives at around half seven, a few minutes after Louis has finished impeccably spreading
out the meal across a picnic blanket on the floor of his living room. If he was being honest,
he’d outdone himself- the fireplace is glowing in the background, the meal was quite possibly
one of the best things he’d ever created, and he’d grabbed a bottle of champagne for the two
of them, probably the classiest thing he ever had or ever would do. Grinning smugly, he
brushes his hands against his jeans, swipes a dishtowel over the oil that has spilled over the
top of his oven, and heads to open it.

Harry looks gorgeous, of course, and his eyes light up when Louis answers. He throws his
arms around Louis’ neck happily and Louis responds by lifting him a few inches off the
ground, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he holds him in a Nicholas Sparks-esque embrace.

They truly could not be a cheesier couple.

“Hi,” Harry giggles happily when Louis sets him down, eyes bright, and Louis grins at his
elation. He wraps one arm around his waist and pulls him into the house, shutting the door
behind them and pressing another kiss to his cheek.

“Hi,” he responds warmly, smiling when Harry drops his head onto his shoulder. “Happy ten
months.”

Harry hums happily, tilting his head so he can kiss Louis quickly on the lips. “Happy ten
months,” he echoes, grinning at Louis. Louis clears his throat, pulling Harry towards the
living room.

“So, I might’ve cooked for you-” Harry looks concerned for a moment, and Louis rolls his
eyes. “-no, it’s good, for real.” With a dramatic flourish, he gestures to his setup on the living
room floor, grinning proudly at Harry’s reaction. He grins, bringing a hand up to his mouth in
surprise before turning to Louis disbelievingly.

“You did this? You didn’t just order from a gourmet caterer or something?” He’s teasing, and
Louis shoves him lightly.

“No, but thanks for having faith in me.” Gently, he takes Harry’s hand and they sit down
together, a serving platter between them. “It’s chicken, wrapped in parma ham, stuffed with
mozzerella with a side of homemade mash.” He smirks when Harry shakes his head in
astonishment. “I even got champagne and everything.” As if to prove it, he picks up the
bottle and tips it over a flute, handing the glass to Harry as he pours one for himself.

“Cheers,” Louis says, lifting his flute, and Harry shakes his head adoringly as he touches his
to Louis’. After taking a small sip, he sets it down and takes a bite.

“It’s good?” Despite having faith in himself, Louis’ anxious to hear Harry’s opinion. Harry
nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah, it’s amazing, Lou.” He pauses to take another bite. “Bit of a step up from our first
date.” Louis snorts.

“That’s what I was going for.”

They spend the rest of the meal talking happily (if he said so himself, it was one of the best
things Louis had ever tasted), and mostly just enjoying being together. After about an hour,
the fire has faded into sparks and Harry and Louis have cleared the living room and are
snuggled up just below the couch, listening to the sound of the dying fire and each other’s
breaths.

“Thanks for tonight, Lou.” Harry tilts his head up to meet Louis’ eyes, smiling contentedly.
“It was really really amazing.”

“Hmm.” Louis smiles, pressing his lips softly to Harry in a clumsy kiss. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” Harry shifts so he’s leveled with Louis, giving him a long look before
kissing him again. This one is fiercer, more passionate, and Louis touches Harry’s back to
steady him without breaking apart from him.

He expects them to stop after a few moments, but Harry seems to have no intent of that. He
moves his hands so they’re touching Louis cheek, breaths short and heavy, and Louis is eager
to go on too. He nudges Harry slightly, almost swinging him so he’s straddling his lap,
perched on Louis thighs. Harry responds enthusiastically, wrapping his arms tightly around
Louis’ neck and pulling them closer together.

Heart racing, Louis moves his hand upwards to cup Harry’s chin, guiding him further into the
kiss. Harry, in response, melts against him, his lips shaping softly around Louis’. All of
Harry’s weight is pressed against his stomach, legs straddling Louis’ waist and arms draped
over his shoulders, hips nudged firmly against Louis’. Louis doesn’t break the kiss and
neither does Harry; instead, Louis combs his fingers through Harry’s hair, comforting but
forceful. Harry leans back, surging into the kiss for another few moments before breaking
apart with a heavy breath.

“Can we, um-” He’s breathless and sounds almost shy, and Louis thumbs his chin
reassuringly, expecting him to ask to stop. Instead, Harry drops his head forward so his
forehead is resting against Louis’- the epitome of cliché, but special all the same.

“Can we go to your room?” Harry asks softly, and Louis’ breath hitches.

“Y-yeah,” he says hesitantly, running his hands through Harry’s hair much more softly this
time. He pauses to press a light, feathery kiss to Harry’s temple. “C’mon.”

Louis helps him up, intertwining their fingers tightly as he leads him upstairs. Harry clings to
his side, arms and shoulders brushing as they head upstairs, both of them breathless with
anticipation. Louis pushes the door open almost tentatively, stepping back and giving Harry
the option to decide what’s next.

Harry shuts the door slowly, biting his lip. Slightly hesitantly, he stands on tiptoes to kiss
Louis, who responds by placing his hands on his waist and pulling him closer. Harry’s
leaning against the door, curls catching on the wood, and Louis wraps an arm around his
waist and lifts him against the wall. He hears Harry whimper lightly into his mouth, fingers
catching in Louis’ hair as he wraps his legs around his waist.

And now they’re kissing again, unlike they ever have before; so desperate and passionate that
they’re both breathless. Louis has him pushed against the door, almost completely supported
by his arms and he’d be worried that it was too much if Harry weren’t frantically kissing him
back.

“Lou,” Harry gasps in a low voice, and Louis pulls apart briefly. Harry looks so beautiful
here- curls mussed and cheeks pink and helpless, his hands clinging to Louis neck and chin
as they kiss.

“Yeah, love?” Louis murmurs, shifting him higher up the wall. “This alright?”

“S’good,” Harry gasps, “yeah, it’s so good.” Louis replies by pushing him roughly against the
door again, lips crashing together hungrily.

Louis’ partially hard already, erection rubbing uncomfortably against his jeans, and he can
feel that Harry is as desperate as him. Not breaking apart, Louis shifts his weight to above his
waist and pulls him away from the door, carrying him a few steps to the bed before laying
him gently.

“Alright?” He asks quietly as Harry shifts so he’s lying on his back, sitting up slightly so he’s
still close to Louis. Harry nods rapidly.

“Yeah.” He moves his hand from Louis’ neck to the collar of his shirt, fingers playing on it
nervously before tugging him lightly forward. Louis kneels over him, taking a breath and
brushing the curls from his face.
Softly, he kisses him again, pushing him further into the bed. He feels Harry bite his lip, and
he moves to pull away before feeling Harry slip his hand under his tee shirt, running his
fingers lightly over Louis’ back so he leaves goosebumps.

Harry pulls away for another breath, sitting up further and causing Louis to sit up in the
process. He’s sitting in Louis’ lap again, one arm thrown over his neck and the other under
his shirt and Louis holds him in place.

“Is it, um, okay if I-” Harry gestures nervously to Louis’ chest, and Louis nods
enthusiastically. Harry tugs the hem off the shirt upwards to Louis’ bicep until Louis assists
him, lifting his arm and tugging it off, tossing it carelessly up the bed. Harry bites his lip, a
small smile playing across his face as he gazes at Louis’ tattoos like it’s the first time he’s
seeing them.

Louis lets him run his fingers across the for a moment, tracing the cursive of it is what it is
before pressing his hands against Louis’ chest. A sliver of moonlight peaks through the
window, casting them in a pearly glow. It’s illuminating Harry’s scars from this angle, the
cuts glaringly obvious, but Louis ignores it. This is no place for pain.

He shifts so he’s holding Harry’s waist again, fingers brushing against his shirt. “Is it alright
if I-” Harry breaks him off by nodding and shifting forward, wriggling out of the shirt as
Louis pulls it over his head.

Harry looks almost afraid as Louis takes a moment to stare at him- because he’s so fucking
beautiful and Louis could watch him forever, absolutely entranced. “Are you, um- do I look
okay?”

It’s easy to forget how insecure Harry still is- Louis had somehow tricked himself into
believing that he’d sort of let go of that. It’s a painful reminder that Harry doesn’t see himself
as Louis does. Harry is everything beautiful, not just lovely in appearance but the most
spectacularly wonderful person he’s ever met, and it never fails to shock him that he’s the
one person who doesn’t see that. He moves closer to him again, closing the bridge between
their lips and lightly holding down his wrist above his head.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Louis murmurs, drunk with arousal and love. “You are the
best, most lovely, most wonderful person I’ll ever meet.” He mumbles this in between kisses,
Harry squirming ever so slightly with pleasure underneath him as he kisses Louis as if it’s
something he needs. Louis has never felt closer to someone.

He gasps a moment later when Harry loops his fingers under the waist of Louis’ jeans,
tugging them to imply that he wants to keep going. Louis breaks apart from him, staring
down hesitantly.

“You sure, love?” He asks, and Harry nods desperately.

“Yeah, Lou, please.” And how can he say no to Harry, especially when he’s underneath him
like that, flushed and panting and sincere, the picture of beauty.
Nodding, Louis shifts so he’s kneeling beside Harry. He fumbles with his zipper, pulling off
his jeans impatiently, and then places a hand on Harry’s hips to work on his jeans. Harry lets
out something between a gasp and a whimper as Louis pushes the waist of his jeans down,
shifting for a few moments before he manages to pull them off and kick them off of the bed.

For a moment after that they stare at each other, eyes full of love and something like
nervousness, maybe something more like anticipation. “Are you nervous?” Louis asks him
after a moment, running a hand up his side reassuringly.

“Yeah,” Harry admits. Louis hesitates, prompting Harry to shake his head.

“No, not like that. I just mean, like, it’s the first time, so-” He pauses. “I trust you Louis.”

“Okay,” Louis breathes. Ever so slowly, he shifts forward to kiss Harry again. Harry melts
into the kiss, throwing an arm over Louis’ back so they’re bodies are perfectly lined up,
pressing lightly against each other.

Slowly and carefully, Louis moves his fingers past the waistband of Harry’s boxers, lightly
brushing against his lower hips. Harry takes a breath, pulling away from Louis ever so
slightly. Louis pauses, not wanting to hurt him, but Harry nods.

Louis pushes his boxers below his hips, down to just above his knees before Harry hurriedly
pulls them off. He does the same with Louis, almost frantically as if he doesn’t want to wait.
Louis feels the same way.

They’re both uncomfortably hard and it’s obvious. Rushedly, Harry moves to kiss him in
desperation, but Louis stops him.

“I- hang on.” Louis reaches towards his drawer, fumbling around before his fingers close
around a small bottle. He grabs that and then a small packet, moving back towards Harry.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asks gently. Harry’s trembling slightly, maybe with cold or
maybe with anticipation, but he nods rapidly.

“Yes, Louis.” He sounds almost impatient, and Louis smiles. His voice drops nervously, then,
and he looks up shyly at Louis. “Could you, um, guide me through it, though?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Louis kisses him briefly to reassure him, then pulls away quickly
enough to roll on the condom. Harry bites his lip desperately, breathing heavy and face
flushed in arousal. “Lie on your stomach, darling,” he instructs.

Harry rushes to obey, curls bouncing on his forehead as he lowers himself onto his stomach.
Louis’ breath catches as he takes a moment to admire Harry; the way his hair falls down just
past his neck, the curve of his waist and hips. Swallowing, he leans forward.

“Okay, I’m um-” Louis realizes he’s shaking too; he’s never been more eager or nervous to
sleep with someone, and he’s also never been more cautious. “-I’m gonna prep you, is that
okay?”
“Y-yeah,” Harry gasps. Louis bites his lip, popping open the bottle and slicking a few fingers
up with lube.

Slowly, Louis spreads Harry open to reveal his hole. Carefully, he prods at his entrance,
spreading a layer of cold lube around it in order to make it easier for him and causing Harry
to shudder and let out a desperate whimper. This time, Louis pushes more forcefully, easily
sliding his forefinger inside of him. Harry is beautifully desperate now, whining out
incoherent sounds as Louis circles his finger inside him, opening him up slightly wider.

“Can you do another-”

“Yes!” Harry cries, curls bouncing as he nods pleadingly. “P-please, Lou, c’mon-”

“Alright, love.” Much more easily this time, he slips his middle finger in. Harry’s reaction is
beautiful- he lets out a sharp whimper and almost juts his hips off of the bed, squirming
underneath Louis.

“Another,” he groans, clearly unable to say much more than that. Louis smiles.

“One second, you’ve gotta get ready.” As if to prove his point, Louis circles both fingers
around, brushing against Harry’s prostate and drawing a gasp from him. “Like that, baby?”
He murmurs lowly, and all Harry can do is nod, whimpering again.

“One more, now.” He waits several moments before adding another finger. This one is
harder- Harry is so tight and Louis’ already stretching him so much further than he’s ever
gone before. After a few moments, he manages to squeeze in a third finger.

“Okay?” He asks, afraid he’s hurting him. Harry takes a sharp breath.

“Yeah.” It’s barely audible but it’s clear what Harry wants. Very carefully, Louis stretches out
inside of him. Harry lets out something almost like a sob, hips pressing desperately into the
mattress.

Now, Louis waits almost a full minute before he feels like Harry is stretched enough. “Are
you ready?” He asks softly, and for the first time he realizes how truly nervous he is.

“Yeah.” It takes him a moment to realize that Harry is crying with pleasure, eyes screwed
shut. “Please, Louis, c’mon.”

“Okay.” Slowly, so not to hurt him, Louis retracts his fingers one at a time, leaving Harry
desperately needy and opened up. Hands shaking, he reaches for the lube, coating it heavily
over the condom.

Mattress grunting underneath them, Louis positions himself so he’s hovering over Harry,
lining himself up over his hole. Harry is shaking with anticipation, occasionally mumbling
something like “Please, Louis.”

Louis grips Harry’s hips as he nudges at his entrance, prodding another small gasp. He
pushes inside very slowly as Harry lets out a moan, wiggling his hips underneath him.
“Okay,” Louis gasps, more to himself than Harry, and he thrusts inside. Harry whimpers
desperately, bucking his hips up to Louis’ pelvis and causing Louis to groan.

Louis starts in a slow rhythm, thrusting and pulling backwards much less frequently than he
usually would have in order not to hurt Harry. He’s painfully hard, letting out his own groans
himself. Harry whimpers, breathlessly and prettily, as he digs his fingers into the pillow. He’s
crying with pleasure, finding his own pace as for when to jut his hips up towards Louis,
always surprising him and causing him to gasp in pleasure.

Harry’s response is so beautiful; his petite figure seems so fragile but he takes every thrust
easily, pressing his back against Louis’ pelvis as though begging him for more. Even
completely filled up with Louis, he’s moaning for more, harder, and Louis is happy to give
him what he wants.

Louis is dizzy with arousal as he continues to pump into him, now speeding up his pace. He
eventually finds a quick, perfect rhythm, striking Harry’s prostate every few thrusts and
causing him to moan desperately.

After several minutes, the air full of heat and excitement, Harry lets out another long
whimper. “Lou, I’m so close.” It’s almost a plea, as though asking Louis’ permission to
come. Louis is happy to give it to him.

“Yeah, babe, come on.” Immediately, Harry moves his hand from the side of the mattress to
underneath his stomach. Louis can’t see him, but it’s easy enough to presume that his hand is
wrapped around the base of his cock, fingers brushing quickly against the head of it. The
image of that is perhaps what makes Louis thrust harder.

Moments later, Harry comes while crying out, just as Louis strikes his prostate again. Louis
thrusts one final time, groaning as he comes inside of Harry thirty seconds later before
pulling out.

Exhausted, he collapses beside Harry just as Harry turns on his side, panting and grimacing.
Louis smiles lovingly at him, trying to take in the entirety of the image in front of him; Harry,
flushed and sweating and naked, breathing heavily and looking so, so beautiful.

“You okay, love?” Louis asks, brushing a damp curl off his forehead. Harry cuddles closer to
him, nodding.

“God, Louis.” His voice is hoarse, breaths long and heavy as he tries to pull himself together.
“That was so, so good.”

“Yeah, it was.” Louis echoes, staring at him as if entranced. “Oh, god, I love you so much,
Harry.”

“I really fucking love you,” Harry repeats, eyes closed. His chest is still heaving, and Louis
rubs a hand up his arm comfortingly. “Oh, god.”

They fall asleep minutes later, wrapped around each other and still naked and exhausted and
painfully, irrationally in love.
***

When they wake up together the next morning, they don’t speak at first. Louis just leans over
him and kisses him, gently and lovingly, and Harry tangles his fingers in Louis’ hair as he
kisses him back lazily.

It says everything.

***

In the middle of December, everyone is consumed by midterms and exhaustion, too

preoccupied to spend a ton of time together, and Niall makes the executive decision that that
has to change. Harry gets a text from him at about eleven one weeknight, when he's already
drifting off the sleep.

OI!! you guys better be at my house this weekend to hang out cuz I miss you fucking losers!!
Harry snorts, smiling and shaking his head in exasperation.

The others are all too endeared to argue with Niall and besides, they all need a break. The
five of them agree to crash at his house over the weekend, coordinating on whose job it is to
bring food and drinks, other technicalities that were of utmost importance.

Harry and Louis, of course, go together. Louis picks him up slightly earlier than necessary so
they get a few minutes alone together- they hadn’t really been able to spend enough time
together over the last week or so, so they stop at a drive through to get milkshakes and then
sit on the hood of Louis’ car in an empty gas station, gazing contently at the sunset and at
each other. Somehow, it feels like one of the most romantic situations Harry can imagine.

“Lou?” Harry says after several minutes, and Louis casts a look towards him. Harry
swallows, snuggling closer to him, and Louis lifts his arm to wrap it tightly around Harry’s
shoulders.

“Yeah, love? Everything okay?” He’s slightly concerned, and Harry nods reassuringly,
kissing him lightly on the cheek.

“Yeah, it’s um, it’s good actually.” He bites his lip timidly, glancing up at Louis. “I just, uh-
so today is um- it’s been a month since I’ve cut-” he rushes through it, gulping and looking
away self consciously; even with Louis, he doesn’t think he’ll ever to talk nonchalantly about
it. “-and, I mean- I know it’s not really a big deal, but I- definitely wouldn’t have made it that
long without you. So thank you.” He finishes lamely, tucking himself closer towards Louis.
“I love you,” he adds, voice thick with emotion. He can’t quite make himself look up at
Louis.

He needn’t have worried about Louis’ reaction, though; Louis combs a hand through his hair
gently, tilting his chin up so they’re facing each other. His eyes are shining with love and
admiration, and Harry doesn’t know why he doubted him for a moment.

“Harry. That’s a huge accomplishment.” He’s so sincere, so clearly comforted by this, and it
makes Harry’s heart swell. “Baby I’m so, so proud of you.” Louis looks so genuinely happy
that Harry could cry with love for him.

He doesn’t cry, though. He kisses Louis firmly, eyes shut tightly in order to solidify that he
isn’t going to burst into tears. Louis wraps a protective arm around his neck, allowing Harry
to lean against his chest.

“I love you so much,” Harry mumbles when they break apart, nuzzling against Louis’
forehead. He feels Louis kiss the top of his head and then run a hand gently through his hair
comfortingly.

“I love you like crazy,” Louis replies warmly. Harry nestles happily back into his shoulder
and Louis cradles him, rubbing circles over his back. They stay like that for several more
glorious minutes, until darkness has swept over the sky.

“We should probably go meet them now,” Louis mumbles. Harry hums in agreement, lifting
his head from Louis’ shoulder and smiling drowsily.

They drive in a quiet comfort, soft love songs crooning from the radio. Harry finds himself
watching Louis, staring fondly and adoringly at him as he watches the road, wondering how
on earth he got so lucky.

They’re the last ones to get there- the others are already spread out across Niall’s living room
floor, talking loudly and intensely about what kind of food to order. When Harry and Louis
enter, they erupt in cheers, and Zayn heads over to them and throws an arm over both of their
shoulders, dragging them to join the group.

And as Harry sits there, laughing with his friends and arguing good heartedly over the most
trivial things, the room filled with warmth and energy, he’s so, so happy.

***

Things aren’t perfect, not by any means.

Harry learns that recovery is one of the longest, most unpredictable processes that anyone
will ever go through. He’ll go days feeling amazing, and then several more days feeling
trapped in a long, dark tunnel of his thoughts and there’s essentially nothing he can do to
change that. It’s also one of the most incredibly frustrating processes he’s ever experienced;
the constant roller coaster of emotions is draining, and there are days that make him want to
give up.

But as humans do, he adjusts to it, and he learns to grow from it. He finds strategies- ways of
distracting himself and ways of analyzing certain situations- in order to get through certain
places. He’d quickly slipped into the self harm habit and it’s much, much harder to climb out
then it is to fall in.

But it is possible. The urges to cut still come frequently but for the most part, it’s easier to
resist it. He still slips up, more than he’d like to, but even then he’s able to access it and he’s
so much more relieved than he was a year ago, or half a year ago or two months ago. He
 finds himself looking forward to therapy sessions after he’s had time to really get used to it.
He’s supported now, and that makes all the difference.

Regardless, though, it’s an impossibly slow process. He grows to accept that after several
weeks full of confusing, deflating emotional changes. He’s sort of come to terms with the fact
that it might be a long, long time before he’ll be completely whole, that since recovery isn’t
cut-and-dry then he still has a long way to go. It’s almost enough to want him to give up
sometimes; he’s working so hard for so little reward, it feels, and it’s painful.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t allow himself to regress back to his former state- even when he
relapses or he feels like he’s rotting from the inside, he doesn’t allow himself to give up. He
can’t have made it so far and worked so hard to give up all the progress he’s made, because
even if it sometimes feels like nothing, he’s in a much better place than before. He’ll be okay.
It’ll take a long time, but he’ll be okay.

He’s a work in progress. But it’s not forever.

Chapter End Notes

I love you guys so much.......I can't believe it's almost over.....

Follow me on tumblr and reblog the masterpost if you want. Or just say hi, I promise I
won't bite.

Please leave comments/kudos/suggestions!

 Epilogue
Chapter Notes

So....wow.......It's been a journey.

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On the day before their one year anniversary, Harry wakes up in Louis’ arms.

They’re tangled up in Louis’ bed; the sun is just rising and the room is glowing with the early
morning light. Louis’ arms are wrapped firmly around Harry’s middle, Harry buried safely in
his chest. Louis is stirring already as Harry wakes, blinking sleep from his eyes and squinting
lazily.

“Morning,” Louis slurs tiredly, giving Harry a lazy smile, and Harry nuzzles against his neck.
Louis looks gorgeous, washed in the bright early morning light and still hazy with sleep, eyes
soft and tired.

“Morning,” Harry echoes, grinning and pressing a quick but firm kiss to his lips. Louis
laughs, running a hand through Harry’s curls. “What time is it?”

Louis shifts to glance at his bedside table, not retracting his arms from around Harry. “ ‘s
about seven,” he mumbles, shutting his eyes briefly. “I suppose we should get up if we wanna
make the train.” Harry groans, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before sighing and
sitting up and stretching.

“Alright.” Harry casts a look over to Louis, who’s now lying facedown. He moans
incoherently, and Harry laughs and squeezes his arm.

“C’mon, babe, London is waiting for us.” At that, Louis laughs and sits up tiredly.

“I suppose we have a train to catch then.”

***

They had decided on London as an anniversary celebration about three weeks prior to the
trip; it had come up on a day where the five boys were tucked cozily into a booth in a pizza
shop, a celebration of midterms finally being over. To their dismay, spending time together all
five of them was scarce- Louis and Zayn were dealing with college applications as well as
exhausting schedules, and school was grueling for all of them, so they had been more than
happy to take a break. It was also a few days after Harry’s seventeenth birthday, meaning the
other four were making an extremely dramatic point of showering him with love (not that he
was complaining).

“So didn’t you guys meet like a year ago?” Niall had asked, and Louis and Harry shared a
long, fond look, making Liam gag mockingly. Harry laughed, snuggling closer into Louis’
side as Louis slung an arm over his shoulder.

“Yeah, it was one year ago, three days ago,” Harry answered. NIall rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“Only you two would keep track of that,” Zayn pointed out, and Louis scowled at him before
nuzzling pointedly against Harry’s cheek, making all of them laugh.

“Did you do anything, though?” Liam asked. Harry shrugged, taking a sip of his soda.

“Went out to dinner,” he replies, while Louis nods. Liam raises an eyebrow.

“Really? You didn’t like, I dunno-”

“Jet out to Paris? That seems like your thing,” Niall supplies, and Zayn laughs, draping an
arm lazily over his shoulder. Harry smiled- it really was sort of adorable that the honeymoon
phased seemed to be endless for them.

“Well, who knows what we’re doing for the anniversary of when we started dating?” Louis
said, almost defensively, even though he was grinning. Harry turned to look at him, eyebrows
raised.

“We don’t have any anniversary plans,” he pointed out, and Louis just smirked. Harry had
brushed it off, assuming it was just Louis trying to impress the lads, until two days later when
Louis had called him.

“What’s up?” Harry asked, yawning. Without a proper introduction, Louis to a deep, sharp
breath of excitement.

“We’re going to London.” Harry could hear the grin and pride in his voice, and it took him a
moment to register it. “Happy anniversary,” Louis added dryly.

“Are you serious?” Harry asked, confused.

“Just bought two tickets.” Slowly, a grin broke across Harry’s face.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Happy anniversary, Styles,” Louis said smugly, ending the call without another word.
Directly after, he had texted Harry the details.

Since Louis was nineteen Jay had no reason to object to him going, and it hadn’t taken much
for them to convince Anne. She’d made Harry promise to “be responsible” and “call me if
anything goes wrong, no matter what” but the night before they’d left she pulled Harry aside.
“I trust you, and I trust Louis, so don’t make me regret this.” In response, Harry had given
her a grateful hug and nodded, promising her that.

And that was that.

***

Picking a nine am train was perhaps not the best idea Harry and Louis had ever had; they
arrive at the train station at eight, unsure of where to go and having not eaten breakfast. It
leaves neither of them in their best state- two exhausted, starving teenage boys looking for
their train, so Louis insists that they make a stop to get breakfast. Of course, this leaves them
with twenty minutes to find and board their train, trying to balance luggage as well as a bag
full of donuts and two cups of coffee.

By the time they get on the train, they’re still exhausted, and Harry is still half asleep on the
train ride. He spends most of it slumped against Louis, drifting in and out of consciousness as
they drift by empty cornfields and forests. Louis is asleep too, and it’s a miracle that ten
minutes before they pull into London he sits bolt upright in time to wake up Harry and gather
their luggage.

“Remind me never to travel with you again,” Harry tells him good naturedly as they step off
of the train, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Louis snorts, switching his suitcase from one hand
into the other in order to grasp Harry’s, grinning at him.

“That’ll make the honeymoon a bit difficult, but suit yourself.” Even though Louis’ joking,
he fixes Harry with a warm, fond, look that makes Harry lean over to kiss him clumsily on
the cheek, giggling.

“Do you have any idea where to go?” Harry questions a moment later, looking around for the
first time. To his surprise, Louis nods and points vaguely.

“There’s a taxi station over there.” He smirks and Harry cocks his head, impressed.

“How’d you know that?” He questions as they head towards the gate. Louis snorts, then
gestures above the two of them. Harry glances up to see a sign, emblazoned in bold letters,
‘TAXIS’.

“Shut up,” he mutters, mock irritably, as Louis laughs. Louis, in response, slings an arm
protectively over his shoulder.

***

They get to the hotel around twelve, having been inconvenienced by London traffic. The
hotel is nothing special, really, but it’s their first vacation together and to Harry and Louis it
might as well have been a palace.

Louis seems slightly nervous as they arrive in their room, but Harry doesn’t question it right
yet. They take several minutes setting up, and it doesn’t bother Harry until Louis clears his
throat.

“Ok, so, I kind of have an anniversary- I don’t know if it counts as a present, but it’s for you.”
Louis looks unbearably nervous as he stands up, pacing across the room with a glance at
Harry. Intrigued, Harry sits on the edge of the bed leans forward.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly, furrowing his eyebrows. Louis bites his lip.

“Okay, I, uh- here.” He tugs off his sweatshirt, tossing it aside before settling next to Harry
on the bed. Harry stares at him, confused until Louis points gently to a spot on his right arm.

It takes Harry a moment to find it, camouflaged within the several other tattoos scattered
across Louis’ forearm, but he sees it after a moment- oops! in Harry’s handwriting. It takes
him a moment more to understand it- why ‘oops’ of all things, and then it locks in his brain.

Oops, um I didn't want to bother you, but I was transferred to this class and the teacher- she
told me to sit here... but it’s fine if you don’t want that-

“Oh my god,” Harry whispers, bringing a hand to his mouth as he snaps his head up to meet
Louis’ eyes. “Oh my god, you got a tattoo for me.”

“You aren’t gonna like, run away, right?” Louis asks, and despite the humor in his tone his
eyes are full of anxiety. Harry shakes his head rapidly, blinking in a vain attempt to hide the
fact that he might start crying.

Harry throws his arms around Louis’ neck, catching him off guard so that he stumbles into
the wall, laughing and nuzzling into Harry’s shoulder. After a few moments trapped in the
embrace, Louis pulls away to look at him with soft eyes, brushing his cheek.

“I know it’s- a commitment, and Zayn tried to talk me out of it, but I figured that even if we
aren’t, you know, together forever- I, um. I’m never gonna regret any of this, like, being with
you. So.” He breaks off awkwardly, averting his gaze.

Lost for words, Harry presses a kiss firmly against Louis’ mouth, lips slightly parted in
passion. They break apart about twenty seconds later, breathless and flushed and laughing.

“I love you so fucking much.” Harry’s voice is thick with emotion, but he’s grinning as he
shakes his head fondly. Louis grins, kissing him on the forehead and stroking his curls.

“You’re really the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?” Harry pulls
him into another tearful kiss, pouring his impossible love for Louis into the embrace. He
hopes Louis understands it.

“I’m gonna get ‘hi’ for you when I turn eighteen,” Harry informs him, and Louis laughs.

“I’ll be there to see it, then.”

And so a few minutes later they set off, hand in hand, eager to get out to London. They’ve
both been before but it’s been years for either of them and it probably should have crossed
their minds to get some kind of map.
They’ve wandered several blocks aimlessly, as if expecting to stumble across the London Eye
before it crosses Harry’s mind that there’s probably a better way to find it.

“Lou.” He tugs Louis’ hand lightly, catching his attention. “We need to use a map or
something.” Louis sighs heavily.

“Fine.” Exasperatedly, Louis pulls out his phone and punches in the address. Harry watches
him in amusement as his face changes from mock irritation to surprise, and he looks up
guiltily at Harry.

“One block that way,” he says shortly, and Harry scoffs fondly.

“I hate you.” But he still wraps his arms around Louis’ waist as they walk the one block,
enjoying every moment.

***

It’s a miracle that they finally make it to the London eye. It takes several minutes staring at
google maps, many signs and three people they pass by (they look pathetically like tourists),
but eventually Louis and Harry make it. It’s kind of overwhelming, especially after they’ve
spent so long looking for it, and Harry has to squint up at it for several moments in order to
take it in.

“You ready?” Louis asks him, nudging his shoulder lightly as he points at the line. Harry
nods, smiling at him and stepping forward.

The line moves surprisingly quickly (perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Louis
and Harry spend the whole time peppering kisses to each other’s faces until the middle aged
man behind them clears his throat angrily), but it’s not long until they’re stepping into the
glass bubble, essentially, and boarding the ride. Louis watches as Harry heads eagerly
towards the window as the ride lurches into motion, and he frowns when he turns to see
Louis biting his lip and staring stoically out the window.

Louis, if he’s being honest, has never been one for rides, and he’s less than thrilled to be on
this. Harry’s enthusiasm is the only thing keeping him through it. He doesn’t like heights,
will never see the appeal of willingly subjecting yourself to that kind of terror, but Harry was
so excited and, well. Harry’s excitement is worth anything.

“You okay, Lou?” Harry asks, confused. Louis swallows, taking a shaky step forward.

“Yeah, just- heights,” he says shortly. Harry looks amused, and Louis scowls at him playfully.

“But it’s so beautiful,” Harry points out, and Louis’ mock anger fades as he watches Harry’s
face light up with enthusiasm.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes trained on Harry, and he grins when Harry blushes and giggles.

It was worth it just for that.

***

After stumbling dizzily off of the London eye, Louis pulls Harry with enthusiasm towards the
exit, short of breath and grinning.

“That was pretty fucking awesome,” Harry says, and Louis shrugs and gives him a warm
smile in response.

“Yeah.” Louis isn’t particularly enthusiastic but Harry is hazy with elation, and it’s almost a
second nature for Louis to tighten his arms around him when he falls against Louis’ chest,
winding his arms around his neck. When he leans up to kiss him, Louis lifts him gently off
the ground as he hugs his waist, leaning against the gate.

“Hey!” They jump apart as a guard strides up to them, irritated. “You can’t do that here!”

“Sorry,” Louis says sheepishly, but he and Harry are laughing as they hurry away, hand in
hand. He smiles privately at the knowledge that everyone knows they’re in love.

“Oops.” Louis smirks, leaning against a brick wall and grinning at Harry. Harry giggles,
giving him one more kiss before grabbing his hand and tugging him along.

“Let’s go get lunch, I’m starving.”

***

They get sandwiches at a cute little corner store and sit outside under an umbrella, making up
backstories for the people who happen to passby. Afterwards, they head down the block and
Louis spots an ice cream shop right on the river so of course, they end up there.

Harry orders caramel and Louis, to Harry’s dismay, gets mint chip. Afterwards, they settle on
a bench, tucked close beside each other as they watch tourist boats float by lazily, not
speaking much but comfortable in silence.

“So,” Louis says finally, turning to Harry, “a year ago, what was happening?” Harry pauses
thoughtfully.

“We were in the bakery, and we decided to date for real,” Harry answers, smiling at the
memory. Louis laughs, staring hazily into air.

“A lot has changed, huh,” he says, eyes soft as he looks at Harry. Harry nods happily, shifting
to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

They finish their ice cream a few minutes later, but they aren’t in any rush to leave. It’s
warmer now, late afternoon sun glaring down on them, and Harry is uncomfortably warm in
the sweatshirt he’s wearing. Without much of a thought, Harry pulls off his jumper, setting it
neatly beside him. He delegates for several moments if he should leave his wrists exposed-
it’s been several weeks since he last cut and you’d really have to be looking to see the scars,
so he decides to keep it off. Nervously, Harry looks at Louis, who’s eyes are soft and warm.
“You don’t mind if…?” He trails off anxiously, letting Louis determine the question. Louis
doesn’t answer- instead, he wraps his arms tightly around him, letting Harry sink comfortable
against his chest and return his embrace.

“You’re so brave, Haz,” he murmurs, and all Harry does is cling tighter to him.

They don’t move for a long time after that, perfectly content to hold each other drowsily as
the city bustles around them.

***

By the time they have dinner it’s almost nine, and they settle for a diner down the block from
their hotel. Louis agrees to it because Harry points out that it reminds him of the one from
their first date, and he’s nostalgic and sentimental so of course, he relents. It’s perfectly
average, but it’s convenient because both of them are tired when they head back to the room.

Arriving back at the hotel is somehow a relief. They take a moment to organize themselves in
silence; Harry doesn’t pay much attention to Louis as he bustles around until he yawns,
stretching and glancing at him.

“I’m gonna take a shower, you wanna join?” Harry asks, smiling warmly. Louis stays silent.
“Lou?” Harry turns around, concerned.

Louis is staring at his phone, hand on his forehead. “Louis, what’s wrong?” Harry says
seriously. Louis looks up at him, snapped out of his trance.

“I got into Kings, Harry.” He shakes his head, a grin splitting across his face. “I got into
Kings college.” Harry gasps, bringing a hand to his mouth.

“Oh my god.” Harry shakes his head joyfully, smiling in astonishment. “Louis!” He cries,
hurtling himself into Louis’ arms. He feels Louis sigh with relief against him as they
embrace, arms wound tightly around each other for several moments before pulling away.

“Look, look-” Flustered, Louis thrusts the phone towards Harry, who grabs it frantically.

Dear Mr. Tomlinson,

The staff at King’s College is pleased to inform you of your acceptance into our University
for the class of 2020-

“Louis!” Harry gasps proudly, throwing his arms around him again. Louis laughs, eyes shut
tightly and smiling. “I told you, I knew you would.” Louis presses his face into Harry’s
shouder, his own shoulders shuddering with disbelieving laughter.

“I gotta call my mom,” Louis says suddenly, and Harry nods. He watches as Louis scrolls
quickly through his contacts, punching in her name and lifting it to his ear.
“Louis!” She’s loud enough that Harry can hear her through his phone, and he laughs as he
tightens against Louis. “Baby, I got the email-”

“I know, I know.” Louis laughs, eyes brightening. Harry hears Jay choke back a happy sob.

“I’m so proud of you darling!” She cries, causing Louis to swallow. “Oh, baby, I can’t believe
it- I mean, I can, but I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, mum,” Louis says thickly, eyes glistening with emotion. Jay takes a shaky breath on
the other end.

“I’ll let you go, love, but-” she swallows, clearing her throat. “I’m so proud of you, I love
you so so so much.” Her voice is muffled with tears.

“I love you too, mum,” Louis responds, flashing a smile at Harry.

“We’re going to celebrate when you get home,” Jay says firmly, sounding beside yourself. “I
haven’t told the girls, but expect to hear from them too.”

“I will.” Louis lowers his gaze, smiling warmly. “Love you, mum.”

“Love you too, poppet.” With that, Jay ends the call and Louis stuffs his phone back into his
pocket.

“I told you,” Harry says, “see?”

“It all worked out,” Louis murmurs, touching his forehead to Harry’s. “You were right.”
Harry giggles, kissing him lightly.

“C’mon,” Louis says after a few moments, “Let me finish the email and let’s get that
shower.”

‘Finishing the email’ actually takes twenty more minutes because they spend half of their
time giggling and snuggling and staring with elation. Finally, Louis shuts his computer and
swoops Harry up bridal style, carrying him to the bathroom before he can protest.

The night is a blur of warmth and love- Harry can hardly distinguish what’s happening in
between kisses and embraces and murmured admittances of love. They take their time in the
shower, and then dry off and then before redressing, end up in their bed again, limbs and lips
and hair all tangled and caught in each other.

They take their time fucking; they’re in no rush and the two of them are still high on the news
of Louis’ acceptance, and the air around them is thick with heat and love and haziness. Harry
feels powerless in a beautiful way, almost drugged, consumed by Louis.

“We’re gonna have to shower again,” Louis mumbles in a low voice once they’ve finished,
pressing light kisses to Harry’s hair. Harry is still panting, but all he can do is nod.

“Worth is,” he replies weakly, and Louis laughs and presses his nose against Harry’s cheek,
making him giggle. Harry hugs him tightly, and Louis strokes his hair as they lay, listening to
 the other’s heartbeats and breathing.

The silence is brief, because not ten minutes later it’s shattered by the sound of Louis’ watch,
crying faintly from the bedside table.

“Oh, fuck-” He removes one arm from around Harry to click it off, eyes hovering over it for a
brief moment before turning back to Harry. “Hey, happy one year anniversary.”

Louis’ grinning, so sincere and fond that his smile alone is enough to make Harry smile.
“Happy anniversary,” he repeats, softly and happily.

Louis pulls him into a bruising, fierce kiss that Harry absolutely melts into, his own body
aligned perfectly with Louis’ as he wraps his arms around his neck, impossibly close and
desperate to be closer. They break apart several long moments later, both with a gasp of
breathlessness and something like surprise.

“One year ago today,” Louis says, like he can’t believe it because honestly, he can’t. It feels
like it’s been weeks since they met and he’s still falling for Harry, and Harry is still the most
fascinating, unimaginably beautiful person in the world. And it feels like it’s been years and
Harry knows everything about him, all the ugly parts and all the most wonderful parts, and
their comfort and content is everlasting.

“I love you so much, Louis,” Harry mumbles quietly. “I would be in such a bad place if it
weren’t for you.”

“So would I,” Louis says truthfully. “You really are the best thing that’s happened to me,
Harry.”

Harry responds by nuzzling Louis cheek again, sighing quietly and happily.

“I’m gonna marry you,” Louis says suddenly, and it doesn’t feel forced or dramatic and it
doesn’t come across that way. Harry smiles, calm and happy.

“I know.” He’s fully serious, too.

“Think of this as a pre-proposal,” Louis says warmly. Harry nods, a smile breaking across his
face.

And perhaps at the time, it seemed like a teenage vow, one that would have been laughed at
and discarded. But six years later, when Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson stand across from
each and place rings delicately on the other’s fingers, the private smile they share brings them
back to that hotel room and those young, lost, in love children.

They kept their promise.

Chapter End Notes

I honestly can't believe this is over. I'm not sure what to say, so I'm gonna start by
thanking people.

Jane, my beta, my love thank you thank you thank you. I love you. I can't tell you how
much the last minute editing helped me, so thank you for putting up with me.

The people who made art for this fic; I can't express how much it means to me. You are
so incredibly talented. I'll never, ever stop appreciating it, so if anyone still wants to, you
absolutely can.

Those of you who left comments and nice messages; I'm shit at replying, but you are
amazing. You were the reason this fic made it this far. And to those of you who
commented regularly: I see you and I love you and you're wonderful.

The people who have read this far: I don't know why you have but thank you, thank you,
thank you. You made this worth it. I appreciate you so, so much.

The friends I've made from this fic: it's so surreal that this introduced us. I love you
guys.

I started writing this because I was going through a lot of what Harry went through in
this fic, and this was an outlet. So many people have spoken with me and said that they
relate, and that this fic helped them, and that means everything to me. You are wonderful
and beautiful and brave, and it will be okay, I promise. If you ever need to talk, you
know where to find me.

Just because this fic is over doesn't mean it's over. I'll post some oneshots of timestamps
(proposals, weddings, etc), and if you have requests you should message me. I'll never
stop reblogging posts related to it or answering messages about it or appreciating your
comments. My next fic is in motion and should be up in a few weeks, but message me if
you wanna know more ;).

The masterpost is on tumblr, so check it out if you want. I'll see you guys in a few weeks
on here with the new fic, but I'm always on tumblr if you wanna say hi.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

---Addie (louisxharry)
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