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‘Is this the end of Britain’s biggest boyband?´ is what the papers say after six months of silence. Six months in which Louis entire world has been turned upside down. No one knows what happened after they came off stage other than the hastily written statement from management saying that they were taking an indefinite hiatus for ‘personal reasons’. All anyone knows is that six months ago, just as they were singing the closing lines of Best Song Ever, Harry collapsed on stage.
The show is going as smooth as clockwork and the fans are all singing along. Zayn, Liam and Niall are up on the second tier, belting their hearts out. The whole thing is fire in Louis’ veins. He won’t ever tire of this; hearing his name being chanted, spending every waking moment with four of his best friends.
Even after four years of too small tour buses, of sitting around for hours during setup, of not seeing his family for weeks and sometimes months at a time. Not even after management changes, after security breaches, after having his girlfriend break up with him over Skype sometime during the Australian leg of this tour. No, Louis can safely say he won’t ever change any of it for the world.
And then Harry collapses; crumbles into a heap in the centre of the stage, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Louis just stands there, stunned as security staff and tour crew all pile onto the stage, completely blocking Louis’ view of him. Someone has their hand to their ear, shouting for paramedics, while stagehands are working on lowering the curtains to give them some privacy.
The whole arena is completely silent, and then the murmurs start. It’s a low drone that begins at the front before encasing the entire arena floor. It turns into a deafening rumble as people get more and more confused and concerned. Then someone’s in front of the curtain, Louis can’t tell who, and is announcing that the show won’t be continuing, sorry for the inconvenience, and that a statement will be released in due course.
The whole time Louis hasn’t moved. It could have been seconds, but it feels like days.
Paramedics come onto the floor with a stretcher and within moments Harry is being lifted onto it and whisked away into the bowels of the arena. Louis’ vision starts to blur and it takes a lot of effort not to throw up.
“Louis, come on, we gotta go!”
There was Niall in front of him, looking at him like he was crazy for still standing there. Liam, face as white as a sheet, appears to his right and takes his microphone from his hand, passing it to some unknown face. Someone, Zayn he realises, has his hands on his shoulders from behind, steering him towards the exit where the assistant tour manager is waiting with a phone glued to his ear, gesturing for them to hurry up.
“Harry, fuck.”
“Louis, are you okay?” Liam says, pushing a hot cup of tea into his hand and rubbing his thumbs under Louis’ eyes. Shit, he’s crying and hasn’t even noticed. He doesn’t even remember the walk to the dressing room. All he can see is Harry collapsing and dropping to the ground, not moving. Not moving, he wasn’t moving, is all he can think. Not moving, not moving, not moving.
He squeezes his eyes closed and it doesn’t help, the picture of Harry collapsing is even more vivid behind the black of his eyes. He opens them to Niall crouching in front of him, eyes glassy and flitting between both of his like he’s trying to find something to say. Zayn’s standing behind him, holding a pair of joggers and a t-shirt.
“Come on mate. Let’s get you into something comfortable.”
Niall takes his cup and places it on the floor while Liam helps get him into a standing position. Not moving, Harry wasn’t moving. Liam nods when he doesn’t fall straight back over, moving his hands to the buttons of Louis’ shirt and starting to unbutton them one by one. Niall lifts his feet out of his shoes.
Once they have him dressed and back on the sofa again, Niall crawls onto his lap, wrapping his arms around Louis’ back. Liam curls into his right side, head on his shoulder, and Zayn takes his left side, hands going to his hair and petting in what he supposes is a comforting gesture. All it does is remind him of waking up in his hotel room this morning to Harry’s face above him, running his fingers through his hair to wake him up. “Back on home turf buddy,” he’d said, smile as bright as the sun that was streaming through the windows, eyes only a little bit tired from the six hour flight they took to get here.
The four of them stay like that until security comes to get them. No one says anything more as they are taken to waiting cars. Zayn and Niall jump into the first one, whilst Liam takes Louis’ hand and pulls him into the second one with him. As soon as the door is closed they are moving, cars effortlessly moving through what seems like entire population of London, police sirens mixing in with screams and cries of scared and worried fans. Louis shuts his eyes, and once they’re free he’s being pulled into the circle of Liam’s arms. Not moving, not moving, not moving is like a mantra in his head.
Dehydration the arena doctor said, exhaustion the hospital said. Too much travelling, as well as not enough rest and relaxation in between. Harry’s body had just given up the fight and gone into self-preservation mode. One month bed rest had been prescribed, which meant no more tour and hundreds of disappointed fans.
It was all it took for Harry to disappear off the face of the Earth.
-.-
‘One Direction’s Harry Styles spotted back in the UK’
“Louis, come on, we need you here. What if he comes back? You know he’s going to want to see all of us,” Liam says as Louis zips up his second suitcase. He takes a look around his bedroom to check that he’s got everything, before turning to Liam.
“Love, I’m going to Doncaster, not bloody New Zealand. If he comes back, which he won’t, call me and I’ll be on the first train back here. I haven’t seen Mum in weeks and she keeps calling, saying the girls are asking after me. I can’t sit here and wait for him to come home anymore. He doesn’t want to be found.”
It’s been six months since what the tabloids have dubbed ‘Harrygate’ happened. Six months in which Harry’s phone has been disconnected. His flat sits empty; though they all make a point of going over there every few days to see if any sign of life has appeared and clear the dust off the work surfaces, collect his post and air the place out. His mum and sister say they haven’t heard from him since he stayed with them the first week after he was released from the hospital. Apparently he disappeared in the middle of the night with a note saying he was going away to recuperate where he wouldn’t be a burden.
“But I need you here, Louis. I can’t do this without you. People are already saying that we aren’t coming back from this.” Liam drops onto his bare mattress with his head in his hands, shoulders already shaking. Louis eases himself down next to him and puts a hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing at the buzz cut that he still hasn’t gotten used to. He drops a kiss onto his temple and pulls him into his arms. “What if this is it Louis? What if this is the end of us?”
“Liam, all we are doing is taking a break. Our managers say we should use this time to see our loved ones. Look, Niall and Zayn have studio time booked in next week, so why don’t you go with them? Get some songs onto paper, something we can use when we come back. Or go home, I’m sure your mum and dad would love to see you. You could even come with me, mum won’t mind, she loves you more than she loves me at this point and the girls don’t ask for just me anymore.”
“I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”
Louis laughs, short and with no amount of humour in it. He can see why Liam thinks like this. Contingency plans are already being put in place for if Harry never re-emerges from his self-exile. Things like carrying on as a four-piece or finding a replacement are being thrown around. It always makes him feel sick, like Harry isn’t main star of their group, like they don’t want him anymore, like he can be replaced so fucking easily.
“Liam you are the loveliest, most kind-hearted person I have ever met. You are the reason I have being getting out of bed this entire time and if it wasn’t for you I would’ve had a breakdown within days. I love you to death, now what do you say? Are you coming home with me or doing something else?”
“I suppose seeing my mum for a couple of weeks won’t hurt, but can I come up to you after?”
“Like you even need to ask!” Louis thumps him on the arm as he stands back up and grabs the handle of his suitcase. “Now, I have a car waiting for me out front. I will be calling your mother in a couple of days to see that you got there and haven’t decided to take up knitting or something equally as boring.”
Liam snorts. “Yes boss.”
“And be a dear and lock up after you.” Louis leans down, drops a kiss onto Liam’s cheek and leaves with a flourish. When he gets to the car, he passes his suitcase to the waiting driver and turns back. Liam is standing in his bedroom window. Louis lifts up his sunglasses and winks before climbing into the backseat.
Once strapped in, he pulls out his phone and flicks to the text he knows is still there. The rumble of the engine as it pulls away from the kerb and into midday traffic is soothing and welcoming as he opens the last text message from Harry, received the day after everyone noticed he was missing.
‘Take care love and don’t worry, I’ll be back :) xxx’.
-.-
“Mum I’m home!” he bellows as he pulls his suitcases behind him and into the kitchen of his childhood home.
He smiles as he looks around. The place hasn’t changed since he was a little boy; the same dining table and chairs sit in the centre of the kitchen, holes and scratches gouged into the surface from school- and shopping bags being dropped onto it over the years. The same yellow walls and tiled floor, gleaming white counters and the fresh flowers on the windowsill that overlook the garden, are all there to greet him. He sniffs the air and catches the scent of baked pies and disinfectant, freshly cut grass and something that he can only ever associate with his mother’s home.
The bounding of feet on the stairs is the first thing he hears before he is engulfed in little arms and “Louis’ here, Louis’ here” is shouted in chorus from two little voices.
“Is that my two favourite sisters I can hear?”
He turns around to the smiling faces of his twin sisters, Daisy and Phoebe. He leans down and gives them both a kiss on the top of their heads and looks up to see his mother leaning against the doorway, arms crossed with a tea towel folded over them. She smiles at him, a strange expression in her eyes.
“Hi love, nice trip?” she asks, moving forward to pull him into her embrace. He loves his mum, he really does. He should’ve made more time for her over the last few years and as much as he loves cuddles with the boys, nothing can beat a hug from his mum.
“It was fine. Dull and we hit a bit of traffic, but I’m here now.”
Louis pulls away and unzips his jacket, pulling it off and dumping it on a chair. His mum tuts at him but doesn’t stop smiling.
“Cup of tea?” She’s already moving towards the kettle.
“No, I’m okay. Just going to say quick hello to the others and crawl into bed. I’m shattered and Liam woke me up at some obscene hour this morning.”
“When am I going to see that lovely boy again?”
“He’s going back home for a couple of weeks, but he promised he’ll come up and see you after.”
“Yay, Liam’s coming, Liam’s coming!” the twins shout, running around the dining room table. Sometimes he thinks his family love the other boys more than they do him. Not that he can fault them for it.
“Girls, stop!” his mum admonishes them, throwing her hands up but not raising her voice in the slightest. Louis has no idea how she copes. He thinks the world of this sisters, but now they’re starting to develop distinguished personalities and traits, so he can see how they could be a handful after a while. “Well, sleep well darling. Your bed is already ready for you. Just leave your suitcases there, we can sort them out in the morning. There’s no rush.”
“Thanks mum.”
He makes his way up the stairs to the second floor, stopping to look at the pictures tacked to the walls. There are his school photos, his sister’s school photos, family photos and the newest additions; photos of him and the other boys, on stage and professional ones taken that he sends to her every time they have to do a photo-shoot. He runs his hands over the last one he sent to her. It’s a candid shot that some tour photographer had taken of them after one of their last shows.
They were all crowded together backstage in a huddle - the photo taken from the stairs above - faces flush and shining from sweat, smiles big enough to make their cheeks ache. Harry is leaning his head against his and Louis’ face is turned into Harry’s, no space at all between them. Louis remembers it well. It wouldn’t have taken much to press his lips to Harry’s.
He runs his hand over Harry’s face on the picture, heart jumping into his throat and stomach lurching.
“Heard from him yet?” He jumps what feels like miles into the air and turns to see his eldest sister, Lottie, leaning over the bannister. Her eyes are alive with excitement to see him, even if her mouth is downturned at catching him in such a sad moment.
“No, no one has. Same as five months ago, same as last week.” He sighs and takes one last look at the picture before continuing up the stairs to stand next to Lottie. She puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls him into a hug.
“Still miss him?”
“Like a limb,” he jokes but no emotion attached.
Lottie is one other person, apart from Liam, who knows the extent of his feelings for Harry. He called her up after boot camp to tell her he’d met the boy he wanted to marry, gushing over sparkling green eyes that he could get lost in and delicious curls he wanted to run his fingers through.
Even though she’s so much younger than him, he’d always felt closest to her. His mum called them her terrible twosome when they were younger. Apparently they were always causing trouble wherever they went. They used to put items into other peoples baskets at the supermarket to see if they’d ever notice or play ‘knock door run’ when they were old enough to go outside unsupervised. She was there for him when he realised he likes boys as much as girls and always used to stand up for him at primary school when he was picked on for wearing glasses, even though it didn’t make the slightest bit of difference.
“Come on, I want to show you something.” She leads him into her bedroom and over to her dressing table.
Her room hasn’t changed all that much since the last time he was here. The walls are still the same pink they were last time he was in here, though the posters on the walls have changed over time. From what he can tell, she has an unhealthy obsession with Zach Efron with his top off, though he can’t really complain about that. There are worse people to ogle, like Justin Bieber, he thinks and shudders. Her bed has a flower-y duvet cover on and a mound of teddy bears. She’d squeal that she was too old for teddies if anyone ever found out about it. She has piles of clothes on the floor and makeup and other stuff strewn all across the dressing table where she’s standing now.
She comes back over to him with her mobile in her hand. She looks nervous, like she really shouldn’t be showing him this but is determined to anyway.
“What’s up Lots?”
“I got this text from an unknown number about two weeks ago. Don’t worry, I haven’t responded,” she says before, keeping him from going into big brother mode, “after I realised who it was I’ve tried calling it every day. The number goes straight to voicemail every time.”
She passes her phone to him and it’s a picture of someone’s reflection, which isn’t too strange, but when he squints at it and puts it closer to his face he recognises the tattoos. He gasps so hard that he coughs and she thumps him on the back. The lurching in his stomach comes back and he runs out the room, just about making it to the toilet before he throws up everything he has eaten that day.
Within moments his mother is behind him, rubbing his back and whispering that he’s going to be okay. He hears her hiss at his sister “you couldn’t have waited until tomorrow!” before turning back to comfort him. Once he’s finished heaving, he pulls himself off the toilet and over to the sink to wash his mouth out. He looks at his reflection. His eyes are unfocused and tears are streaming down his face, snot running from his nose, both from the exertion and the fact he’s just seen a picture of Harry. He looked good; tanned and healthy.
“Come on, love. Let’s get you into bed.” His mum’s behind him, still rubbing his back like he’s eight years old and throwing up spoiled milkshake again.
“You knew! You had this and didn’t tell me!” he rounds on his sister who looks sufficiently chastised and has her own tears running down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry!” she says, fleeing the room and slamming her door shut.
“It’s my fault, darling, don’t take it out on her. I didn’t think it was appropriate to tell you over the phone and I didn’t know how you’d take it,” his mum says with a watery voice.
He looks at her and realises that the look he saw on her face earlier is now magnified about a million times more. She looks worried. He folds himself into her arms.
“It’s okay, just a shock. I’ll apologise to her in the morning. I want to go to bed.”
He lets his mum manhandle him into his old bedroom, helping him take off his jeans and jumper before tucking him into bed. She drops a kiss onto his forehead, tells him she loves him with all her heart and leaves him be.
He doesn’t fall asleep for hours and when he does, he dreams of green eyes and curls.
-.-
“What do you mean he texted Lottie?” Liam shouts through the phone when he calls him the next morning.
Louis’ still lying in bed. The house has long since been empty, everyone either going to school or work. His mum promised to pop home at lunch to check on him but otherwise had left him to his thoughts. He loves his mum, he really does.
“I mean what I said. He sent Lottie a picture a couple of weeks ago. He looks good Liam, like healthy and stuff. But why Lottie? Why not me, or you, or anyone else?” He’s still smarting slightly from the fact that his sister kept this from him for so long, but he can see why she did. At least he had his mum here when he threw up. Liam would’ve rushed him to the hospital and the others wouldn’t’ve known what to do, flapping about like headless chickens until Louis had sorted himself out.
“’cause he knows that she would’ve shown you eventually and he doesn’t want to worry any of us,” is Liam’s response, though he doesn’t sound like he believes it himself, “Has he sent her anything else?”
“No, just that one picture. Do you think he’s going to come home soon?” Louis can feel the tendrils of hope warming their way through him.
“I don’t know, babe, but we can only hope. Look, I’m going out with Mum this weekend to some charity thing but I’ll come up to you on Monday if that’s okay?”
“No, Liam, stay with your Mum. I’ll be okay, but can you let the other two know? Tell them not to tell the twats at Head Office ‘cause they’ll only start digging.” It’s the biggest thing Louis has been worried about; someone finding Harry before he was ready to come back and forcing him into a studio or the like too soon. It might break him completely.
“Yeah, of course, love. But I’m going to come up to you soon. The others said they will too and we’ll book a massive hotel room just like old times.”
“Yeah that sounds great, Liam. I better let you go, mum will probably try calling me soon.”
“No worries. I love you.”
“Love you too, Li. Say hi to your family for me.” He hangs up the phone and flops back down on his bed. He drags one of his pillows from behind his head and cuddles it to him. “Shit, Harry, where are you?”
-.-
The next week is spent in a daze. All his thoughts are caught up in Harry, where he is and how he’s doing. Lottie spent all her time in her room, avoiding talking to him though he’s long got over her hiding the picture from him. He should really go and talk to her but can’t bring himself to do it just yet. His mum fusses around him like he’s delicate china and he can just about reign his emotions in enough to not scream at her. He spend his days wandering around the house like a shell of the person he is and his night’s googling pictures of himself and Harry.
Many years ago, once people noticed the chemistry between the two of them and just how close they were, fan pages popped up all over the internet and people dubbed Harry and Louis ‘Larry Stylinson’. The boys all found it highly amusing and had ribbed them about it until management stepped in and decided they were spending far too much time together and that Louis needed to find himself a girlfriend. Which meant no more lunch dates, no more shopping trips, no more nights out and no more being photographed alone together outside of the band. They went from living in each other’s pockets to casual acquaintances overnight.
One day he was called to the record labels main office and in strolled Eleanor, and fuck if she wasn’t the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on. It wasn’t hard to like her, he could even say he loved her, but with management constantly breathing down his neck, he just couldn’t settle with her. She knew it in some way and it was part of the reason why she called things off. She was going to University and wanted a fresh start, as well as a boyfriend who was always around.
The day of the breakup all the lads had piled into his hotel room with bottles of alcohol and proceeded to get him spectacularly drunk. He later woke up with Niall foot in his face and the other boys all slouched on the sofa in a heap. He was still feeling the hangover when they got on stage that night, but damn if he didn’t feel like it was all going to be okay.
The Larry Stylinson stuff kicked up full force when the split was announced and was bigger than ever, but the damage had been done. Harry used their free time to fly to America and party with his friends, no more sneaking into clubs and pretending to be nobodies for a few hours, and Louis used to come home to his mum and cry into Lottie’s shoulder about how much he missed Harry’s friendship. When they were in the studio or had to do interviews, Harry sat as far away from Louis as he could, like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him anymore, not looking at him. It left a Harry-shaped hole in Louis that he couldn’t fill.
He flicks from Tumblr to Twitter and types in ‘Harry Styles’. Since the collapse, the fans haven’t dropped away like flies likes the higher ups were expecting, they’re actually as loyal as ever. He gets hundreds of tweets a day asking how he is, what he’s up to and if they’re ever coming back. Sometimes he responds, which ends up with him getting more and more questions, and sometimes he goes to Harry’s profile to see if there have been any recent tweets (there haven’t) or any sign that anyone knows where he is. Last thing anyone posted was a picture of Harry at a London airport the day he went AWOL, looking a shadow of the person Louis knew him to be.
Once again, his heart leaps into his throat at seeing anything to do with Harry and he drops his phone like it scolds him. Sighing, he pulls his blanket back and decides it finally time for a shower and shave.
When he looks in the bathroom mirror he barely recognises himself. His scruff has gotten out of hand and his hair’s limp and lifeless. Twisting the water to boiling hot, he strips off his boxers and climbs in. Just as he’s about to put his head under the running water he hears his phone ping. Not wanting to miss something important he races back to his room, trailing water behind him the whole way.
He dives onto his bed and picks up his phone. A text message from an unknown number is showing on his screen with an image attached. He opens the message and nearly faints in shock. His sight goes fuzzy at the edges and his heart rate kicks up a few beats.
There is a picture of Harry, pointing at a welcome to London sign. He looks good, hair pulled back in his signature headband style, wearing a loose necked black t-shirt so you can see the tips of the bird tattoos on his chest and a pair of skinny jeans Louis recognises Harry buying on one of their days out. His smile is the one he knows to be genuine, his eyes alight with mirth and happiness.
“He’s back!” he shouts to Liam when he answers the phone with “Miss me already?”
Liam’s answering squeal is enough of a response.
-.-
‘Louis Tomlinson admits love for bandmate’
The train back to London seems to take forever and Louis can’t keep his leg still. The security who the twats at management sent to make sure he gets back to London in one piece (he refuses to wait for a car) have closed off the entire train car so he can flit about in peace. Constantly moving between seats is starting to piss them off, he knows, but Louis can’t seem to bring himself to care. HarryHarryHarry. At least they had the courtesy to send along people he already knows.
“Louis, come on dude, you’ll be dead on your feet when you get there if you don’t sit down,” Mike, the head of the security team, says to him without looking away from his newspaper. A picture of Katie Price with her new husband is staring back at him and it’s starting to give him the creeps.
“Can’t, I’m too excited. Harry’s back in townnnnn,” he sing-songs. Mike just chuckles at him and goes back to whatever he was reading.
When he had got off the phone with Liam the day before, they had all agreed to meet at Harry’s place when he got back. Management had been made aware of Harry’s return and were preparing to release another statement (that’s all they seemed to do these days, as well as try to replace Harry – no, thank you) and their publicists were scrambling to book interviews on morning talk shows and radio stations to get ready for One Direction’s imminent return to the public eye.
A car is waiting for them when they finally pull into the station and Louis’ guided into it without stopping to pose for pictures, head bowed down so no one can see the smile on his face. It must be visible from space, Louis reckons. HarryHarryHarry. No one knows where Harry is at the moment, but it only seems like a matter of time before he comes back.
-.-
Three weeks later and Harry still hasn’t been home. He hasn’t sent any other photos, no text messages, no emails, no phone calls, nothing. By now the whole world knows that Harry is back in London. The whole world is waiting with a bated breath for their return to glory, but once again Harry has gone into hiding. Louis’ getting pissed.
“Why would he send me that if he wasn’t going to come back?” He says to Liam when he’s settled back into his own flat. Waiting at Harry’s place all day every day isn’t healthy and it has been kindly pointed out to him. Liam’s sitting at the head of Louis’ bed, watching Louis pace back and forth at the bottom.
“I don’t know, love, maybe it was too much too soon, or he just wanted to let you know he was okay, but I have to say, I didn’t know Harry had it in him to be so cruel.” Liam looks as crushed as Louis’ heart feels. No proper word in months, only pictures, and Louis is about ready to snap.
Louis flops down next to Liam on the bed and Liam’s hand goes straight to his head, winding his fingers through his hair. It feels nice and Louis starts to relax a little.
“Why though? He’s got to know by now how much we want to see him. God, I told The Sun last week it was like Jesus’ resurrection.” He got no end of the flack for that comment, both from the higher ups and from religious nuts alike. The boys had agreed with him though and they also agreed to not talk to the press again and released an apology on Louis’ behalf (fucking management).
“I know, but maybe it’s for the best.”
Louis sits up so suddenly that Liam accidently pulls his hair.
“Ow.” He rubs his scalp. “What do you mean ‘maybe it’s for the best’? We want him back don’t we? There is no band without Harry. We have been arguing with everyone for weeks about what we’re going to do if Harry doesn’t come back. I will not sing without him.”
“I know that, love, I just meant maybe he still isn’t ready.” Liam tugs on a few strands to make his point before sliding down to be eye-level with Louis.
“I miss him. It feels like a lifetime ago since I last sat in a room with him or called him or was in the same fucking city as him. I just miss him Liam, so fucking much, and I feel like launching myself off the roof. He needs to come home, like now, because I don’t know how much more of this I can take. He either wants to be with us or not, but this is just horrible. I feel sick and then I get so excited that I can’t sit still. I keep going to his house and expecting him to be in the kitchen cooking, or singing in the shower, or leaning over the coffee table, writing. I don’t want to forget what he looks like, but every time I see a picture of him, the image I have is getting further and further away from the truth that when he does turns up I don’t think I’ll recognise him.”
Liam is silent for a few beats before asking, “You’re really in love with him, aren’t you?”
“Hell yes, I am. Can you fucking blame me? The girls want to be with him and the boys want to be like him. All the mum’s love him like he’s their son and not someone else’s and the dad’s all think the sun shines out of his fucking arse. I fell in love with him the moment I saw him at boot camp and even through all the up and downs he’s always been a constant. I want to marry him, Liam, and have babies with him, and grow old with him, but I can’t do that if he doesn’t fucking come home.” Louis launches himself off his bed, picks up the nearest breakable object (his table lamp) and throws it as hard as he can at his wardrobe. It shatters into a millions pieces and leaves a crater that he knows can’t be fixed but damn, it felt good.
“Better?” Liam asks before pulling him back down to the bed, wrapping Louis up in his arms and rocking him silently.
“Much, thanks.”
They stay like that for a while, day making space for night, both of them lost in their heads.
Louis thinks back to the first night of boot camp. They were all staying in mini dormitories at the house, several people in one room. Bunk beds had been set up for them, but no one was ready for sleep yet. Sometime after midnight, while everyone else was still awake in the main living area, some people talking and other voices mingling as an impromptu karaoke party was starting, Louis made his way to the kitchen, not interested in socialising. He was exhausted and homesick and just wanted a nice cup of tea and maybe a biscuit or two if he could find one.
He opens the door none too quietly and hears a “shit” from somewhere behind the breakfast bar running through the middle.
“Hello?” he asks, rounding his way around the side, hand trailing over the surface avoiding the used glasses and open bottles littering the countertop. He looks down to see one Harry Styles sitting down on the floor, leaning against the built-in drawers, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Green eyes shined up at him, red-rimmed and puffy, a few tears running down his face. “What are you doing down there?”
“Nothing,” Harry replies, rubbing the end of his long sleeves over his cheeks to wipe away the remaining tears before making to stand up. Louis stops him with a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back down. Harry folds his legs up in front of him and rests his head on his knees. Louis crouches down in front of him, one hand going under Harry’s chin to lift his head and the other balanced on one of Harry’s knees. They are knobbly beneath Harry’s plaid pyjama bottoms.
“What’s wrong?” he tries, thumb rubbing an errant tear away. His heart feels four sizes too big in his chest.
Harry wrenches his face away from Louis’ touch. “Nothing, I’m being stupid. You’ll laugh at me.”
“Hey, no I won’t.” Harry stays silent. “Well, okay.” Louis stands up, stretching his legs out. “I was about to make a cup of tea and head off to bed. Would you like one?”
Harry just stares at him, face slowly returning to a normal colour and teeth no longer worrying his bottom lip. Louis turns away to flick the kettle on and hears a mumbled “yes please.”
Once tea is made, Louis reaches a hand to Harry and pulls him up off the floor. When Harry stands, he towers over Louis, even though he’s a couple of years younger. Louis takes a second to glance him over. He’s all long legs and lean bod, with a soft, round face and his cheeks puff out in a way only a teenage boy’s ca. His curls are tight and messy around his face and Louis’ hands itch to brush them behind his ears.
“Come on,” he says, leading Harry out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom he had claimed with a couple of the other lads. He puts his mug on table that runs the length of one wall and takes Harry’s to place next to his. He takes Harry’s hand and leads him over to his bed, sitting across it with his back propped against the wall and feet dangling off the side. He pats the space next to him when Harry hesitates to join him. With a sigh Harry gets comfortable next to him.
“So, are you going to tell me what is wrong or am I gonna have to beat it out of you?” he jokes, pleased with himself when Harry giggles slightly. He didn’t think any boy over the age of five giggled anymore. He’s slightly awed by it.
“Ijustmissmymom.” Harry says it so fast it takes Louis a couple of seconds to work out what Harry said but when he does, he doesn’t laugh, though he can’t help the small, fond smile. He takes one of Harry’s hand that he has fidgeting in his lap and envelopes it between both of his (Harry has big hands).
“Is that all? Why would I laugh at that? I think it’s quite sweet actually.”
“Really?” Harry asks, soundly incredulous that someone isn’t going to laugh at him.
“Yes and can I tell you a secret?” he says, leaning towards Harry’s shoulder, lips brushing his ear as he continues, “I miss mine too.”
Harry’s answering smile is bright and open and Louis thinks he could get lost in it if he’s on the receiving end of it more often. He smiles back and loops an arm around Harry’s neck. Harry goes to his chest easily, not fighting the fact that a complete stranger is effectively cuddling him. They fall asleep like that and when Louis wakes the next morning, he’s tucked into his bed the right way, though when he reaches over to the other side of his bed, it’s still warm and has a Harry-shaped indentation in it.
A yawn from Liam brings Louis back to present-day. The drowning feeling he’s had since Harry disappeared is still there but dulled slightly from the warmth of the memory.
Liam reaches to the bottom of the bed for his duvet and brings it up over them, wrapping them in a cocoon of cotton and feathers. He falls asleep on Liam’s chest, to the beat of a familiar heartbeat and the feel of being taken care of.
-.-
Even more weeks pass and the world goes back to the way it was when Harry left the first time. Except now Louis has this ball of anticipation in his gut that just won’t leave. He constantly has to be moving, lest he falls back into bad habits of vegging in front of the TV all day and crying into his pillows at night, going to the studio with the lads (Liam drags him) and from there going to the nearest club (Niall’s idea) and getting as drunk as he can before Mike, or Mike Two as then second one is dubbed, drag him out into a car and drop him off at whoever is the closest (normally Zayn’s), where he’ll wake up the following morning with a crick in his neck from sleeping on the sofa, go home, shower, change and do it all over again.
No one even questions what he’s doing anymore. By now all the boys know about his feelings for Harry and all tiptoe around him like he’s going to jump off a cliff, or swallow a bottle of sleeping tablets, or slit his wrists every time he’s left on his own. He can’t go anywhere without a chaperone, or a security team, and it’s really starting to be a drag.
When he gets home one morning it’s to an answering machine message from some foot soldier from Radio 1, requesting an interview on Nick Grimshaw’s breakfast show the following day, to which he sticks up his middle finger and promptly deletes. He doesn’t even like Nick Grimshaw, he rather thinks he’s so arrogant and pretentious that whenever they’re at any awards shows together, Louis stays as far away as possible. He hates Grimshaw and everything about him; from his easy friendship with Harry to his stupid bloody quiff. However, the publicists will not hear the end of it, which is why at an hour that he hasn’t seen in quite a long time (except when Mike is scrapping him off some bar somewhere) he’s stuffed into a waiting car and driven to Radio 1’s studios where he’s sat in front of a microphone and asked some of the most stupidest questions he’s ever been asked.
“So Louis, when can we expect to see One Direction back in the studio?” is the first stupid question, like he has any fucking clue. Nick’s looking at him over the table, eyebrow quirked and smirk on his lips. Louis wants to smack him.
“Well, Nick,” he says, not even hiding the fact he really doesn’t want to be here, “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask the corporate people. I get told to be where and when and that is all.”
“But come on, mate, are we ever going to hear from you guys again? You are greatly missed by the British public and with Harry on his ‘travels’-,” adding imaginary finger quotes, “- we’re wondering whether you’ll be up to returning.” Why Nick’s hair is even styled, Louis doesn’t know. No one can see him. Vain bastard.
“Let me tell you this, Nick. When we come back, we’ll come back stronger than ever. There will be no one to tell us when we can take a break, or when to smile, or when to bloody cry ‘cause if this ever happens again, we’ll all quit.”
The smirk drops for a second. Score one to Louis. “Right, okay, strong words. So have you heard from the elusive Harry at all?” The smirk is back. Nick’s eyes flash with glee for a second before settling back into boredom.
“Once or twice. He’s doing well,” he lies effortlessly (the eyebrow is back like he doesn’t believe him), “Eager to come back to his fans but doesn’t want to rush it. We don’t want him to rush it. I can tell you it was bloody scary when he collapsed on stage. I’ve never been so frightened in all my life.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so honest. “I thought my world was ending and then to be told no more tour, no more recording until Harry was better. Well, it was an upsetting time for all of us.” His heart starts racing. Not even to the others has he said how it felt to see Harry fall.
“Sounds like you miss him more than other people?” The smirk is completely gone, replaced by sympathy, whattheactualfuck? Who knew Nick had any ounce of compassion in him.
“Damn right I do.” His filter clearly isn’t working today. “I think the world of him and just want him back here with me, I mean, us.” Ohbloodyhell.
“Sort of sounds like you love Harry, Louis.” Nick gives him a look over the desk before dropping his eyes to the dials on the board in front of him, fiddling with something. He looks guilty all of a sudden, like he knows something Louis doesn’t.
Louis flips him off. “Interviews over. I have more important things to do.” He takes his headphones off and walks out the studio, not looking back until he’s in the car where he lets out the biggest sigh ever. “Shit, what have I done?”
-.-
“Louis, man, you can’t keep hiding.” It’s Zayn’s turn to call him apparently. “No one cares if you’re in love with Harry. No one is judging you and the world hasn’t exploded. The fans are actually being massively supportive about it as you would know if you left your bloody flat once in a while.”
It’s been two months since the Radio 1 interview and he’s taken to being a hermit. Okay, a wealthy hermit who has his food delivered and still invites people round, but he hasn’t left his flat in that time so he has no idea what people are saying about him. He’s not taken any calls other than his mum and the boys, and the doorman downstairs won’t let anyone in (he’s a saint, Louis thinks) who isn’t Liam, Zayn or Niall. He has deactivated his Twitter account, is staying well away from his laptop, and hasn’t even turned the TV on since he got home from Doncaster.
“But Zayyyyn, the head honchos are going to be so pissed at me. They’ll have sacked me by now surely.”
“No Louis, you have it completely wrong. Simon has told them fuck it all. ‘If members of his band want to be gay, they can be gay’, were his words. He doesn’t want to fuck it all up again and have another one of us keel over. Come outside, smell the freedom of loving Harry, then get your arse back into the studio. I have massive writer’s block and Niall is no fucking help at the moment.”
“But what is the point in me loving Harry if he doesn’t come home?”
“Louis, sort yourself out please. He’ll be home when he’s good and ready. No one’s said he’s left the country again so he’s still here, maybe he heard your confession and is just waiting for the right time.”
“Or I’ve scared him into never showing his face again.”
“Louis, I will come over there and kick your arse if you aren’t in the studio by 9am tomorrow.”
“Fine, but you have been warned. I am not the best company at the moment,” Louis finishes, ending the call and flopping face first onto the sofa. He grabs the nearest cushion and screams until his voice is hoarse and the urge to vomit has gone away.
-.-
‘One Direction: back in business?
“Louis, how does it feel to be gay?”
“Louis, does Harry know you love him?”
“Does he love you back?”
Louis stops in his tracks. He just wanted a nice meal, in a nice restaurant with his lovely band mates, but no, the paparazzi won’t leave him alone. Niall has him doing yoga to relax but no amount of relaxing can prepare him for the vultures that await him every time he leaves a building. Any building. They aren’t just at his flat; they’re at the boys’ places, at his mum’s house, at Eleanor’s Uni and even at the girl’s schools. Security has been doubled for every man and his dog who is associated with him and he’s sick of it. So. Sick. Of. It.
“Oi, twat,” he screams.
“No, Louis,” Liam grabs his arm but misses as Louis takes a swing at the nearest bloke with a camera. The surrounding flashes get impossibly brighter.
“Louis,” Zayn collides with him and gets hit in the ear instead of the cameraman.
“Get lost wankers!” Niall shouts, grabbing at Louis and pushing through the hoard of people and into the taxi idling at the kerb. The boys soon follow, Zayn rubbing the side of his head and Liam worrying his bottom lips with his fingers.
“You don’t fucking half swing like a girl!” Zayn grins at him.
“Oh piss off.” Louis glares. He knows he’s pouting, but he really wants to hit something, or someone, preferably not of the friend variety. Niall’s relaxation technique needs some work.
Someone’s phone starts ringing, but Louis tunes the resulting conversation out. Maybe it’s his turn to get away for a bit. Being in London is obviously not going to bring Harry home any quicker. He can feel whatever sanity he has left slowly slipping away from him. He snaps at whoever is closest when he’s in a bad mood and hasn’t even bothered to call his mum for days. The boys are angels for putting up with him for as long as they have and he knows that they won’t say anything any time soon, but constantly having to babysit him must be wearing thin by now.
By the time they reach Louis’ flat it appears the vultures that were camping in front of his building have gone home for the evening. Niall walks ahead of him, obviously lost in thought, and Liam and Zayn have their heads bent together behind him, whispering and Louis picks up his name a few times.
Louis’ had enough. “What? Is there something you’d like to share –? ”
“Louis, stop with the snapping,” Niall interrupts and turns to him, grabbing his hands and pulling Louis into his chest. Arms get wrapped around his shoulders but Louis can’t seem to move his own, instead hands clenching into fists at his sides. “We know you’re hurting and we know you miss him, but we miss him too. This is just as hard for us. We need to stick together and not fall apart. I love you Louis, but you’re driving me crazy.”
Louis’ eyes widen for a second before he drops his head onto Niall’s shoulder and finally brings his arms up around Niall’s waist. He clings on as tight as he can when he feels the first sob erupt from his chest. Within moments more arms are linked around them as Liam and Zayn join them and the sobs start coming thick and fast. Louis clings to them and finally, the feeling of drowning goes completely as the cathartic effect of crying for Harry is replaced by love and appreciation for the boys surrounding him.
Maybe he’ll stick around instead.
-.-
Ten months after Harry has disappeared, life finally starts resembling something normal for Louis.
He wakes up at a reasonable hour, always before 10, eats breakfast – normally toast, but he can push to a fry-up when he feels like it, has a shower, sometimes shaves, pulls on clean clothes, calls his mum to check in, and then does his chores. Sometime in the afternoon, he’ll make his way to the studio that Zayn seems to spend every waking moment in when he’s not with them, and stays there until late. They have written some amazing songs for a new album and have sold a few to willing clients that the label sends their way. Niall composes music and Liam sits with the producers and gives his input. It almost feels like the old days.
If the old days had a permanent Harry-shaped hole.
They don’t talk about it anymore, preferring to go with the flow, so to speak. The label is no longer pushing them to replace Harry (after Liam (LIAM!) told the mangers to go fuck themselves a few days after Louis’ episode on the street) and is letting them do what they want in their own time. Simon even calls them up to congratulate them on how composed and adult they are being about the whole situation and that One Direction is never going to be allowed to fall into obscurity if he has anything to do with it.
Louis almost forgets that one dreaded Radio 1 interview, when one afternoon, he gets a call asking him if he’s okay to do a follow-up. He agrees, but only if the others can join him. He’s not making that mistake again.
It’s a lovely, warm Tuesday morning when they are booked to appear on Nick bloody Grimshaw’s breakfast show. It’s quite an idyllic summer’s morning; the way the sun is slowly warming up the pavements and the trees sway in the early morning breeze. The roads are quiet at this hour, even if the noise levels of the city are rising as people are moving about to get to work or various other places.
Louis sits in the back of the car between Zayn and Niall and Liam’s sitting in front of him in the backward facing seat. Their windows are blacked out so they can have privacy as they start their day off. Zayn has his sunglasses on, although Louis can hear his soft breaths and see the shadows of eyelashes flickering in their sleep. Niall’s updating his Twitter followers as to their plans for the day and Liam’s gazing out the window, bleary-eyed even with the small, contented smile on his lips.
He can’t tamper the flame of anxiousness in his stomach, but with his boys supporting him today he feels like he can take on the world.
“Thanks for coming with me lads,” he says quietly, though it draws a low snort out of Zayn (so not completely asleep), an elbow from Niall in his ribs and a beaming smile from Liam.
“Like we’d be anywhere else, Louis,” Liam tells him.
“Thanks for bringing us. I haven’t had a chance to see to Grimmy through all this. Need to ask him if he’s heard from Harry.” Niall puts his phone away and leans his head against the headrest behind him.
Louis widens his eyes and stops breathing for a second. He smacks himself on the forehead, startling Zayn out of his dozing. He could kick himself, he really could. Why didn’t he think of that? Of course, if anyone is going to have heard from Harry it would’ve been Nick. He’s Harry best friend outside of the band and Harry has spent endless nights on Nick’s sofa after drinking far too much at awards shows and the like.
When their friendship fizzled out Harry could always be spotted texting on his phone and when he would fly over to LA, Nick would fly with him and the papers would always ask what was going on between the two.
Why hadn’t he put the two together sooner?
“Fucking Nick Grimshaw!” Louis exclaims and Niall chuckles next to him.
“You didn’t ask him last time, did you?” Liam asks, amusement in his eyes.
“No, I bloody didn’t. Too caught up with everything that was going on.”
They pull up to the building shortly after and are led into the green room next to the main studio. Louis can see Nick talking to the microphone and it’s being filtered into the room through speakers mounted on the walls.
He’s talking to his colleagues about film stars he would like to interview, earning a few laughs at some of the more outrageous names he says. Louis doesn’t find him funny; has never found him funny and couldn’t warm up to him after Moylesy left a few years back. But he can see why Harry gets on with him, although to ever admit it out loud someone would have to be sticking pins in his eyes.
Nick looks up and spies Louis watching him through the window. Completely out of character, he gives him a small smile and a thumbs up and goes back to talking about which film stars he would like to be on a desert island with. Louis frowns in confusion but shrugs it off when a producer comes in to brief them on the topics of the interview. Of course Harry is on the list. Louis swallows past the lump in his throat and smiles at the boys when they turn to check on him.
After ten minutes of being on air, Louis finally starts to relax and they’re wrapping up when Nick presses mute on his microphone as they go to a break.
“Can I ask you guys something?” Nick swallows loudly and sounds nothing like the Nick they know. So after briefly exchanging curious looks between them, Liam nods for him to continue. “How are you doing? Like really doing?”
Zayn answers for them. “Erm, fine, I guess. Taking it one day at a time. Not having to rush places is a bit of a relief but itching to get back in the spotlight. Why?”
“I’ve been asked to show you this.” Nick pulls his phone off the side next to him and flicks through a few menus before bringing up a series of texts. Harry :) is written at the top and it’s dated a few days ago. Louis leans over Zayn’s shoulder to read.
Nick: You need to go back and stop this nonsense, babe. You are tearing them apart!
Harry: I know but I can’t. Not yet. I need more time to accept what I feel for him Nick.
Nick: Stop being a coward and call him. He admitted it all live on air and hasn’t tried to denying it since.
Harry: I will. I will but do me one favour?
Nick: Anything for you young Harry x
Harry: Ask him to come back to the studio and tell him I miss him. Don’t be a cock and scare him away this time. Tell him I miss him and I’ll call him soon. Please, will you tell him that? X
Zayn hands the phone back and glances over his shoulder at Louis, but all Louis can do is stand there, lips pressed into a thin line, not blinking. He spots the producer leaning over Nick and telling him the break is nearly over. Nick looks over at him and nods before adjusting his headset back over his ears and offering a fist bump to Niall. Then they’re being shepherded out of the studio and into the corridor outside.
He keeps expecting to breakdown, keeps expecting his world to fall around him, but all he can think is HarryHarryHarry over and over again.
People are to-ing and fro-ing in the busy corridor and Liam puts an arm around Louis’ waist and leads him back out into the sunny London day outside. It’s nearly 9am now and the promise of a hot day has Louis wanting to curl up like a cat on one of the stone benches and sleep for the rest of it. They are signalled into the waiting car and Zayn asks to go to the nearest café where he buys Louis the strongest cup of tea they make and the greasiest sandwich on the menu. He takes them with a nod.
“I’m okay, I’m good,” he says when he’s finished and they’re pulling up by the kerb next to his building. He must’ve convinced them, because they let him leave after he promises to call one of them this afternoon and go out tomorrow to the opening night at a club down the road.
Unlocking his door, he notices that the drowning feeling still hasn’t returned. He feels like he’s turned a corner.
-.-
‘1D’s Harry spotted entering London home’
Louis awakes a few days later to his front door being slammed shut. He bolts upright and just about manages to cover himself with his duvet when Niall comes flying into his room and lands spread-eagled on top of him.
“Louis, Louis, Louis, come on, wakey, wakey, rise and shine.”
Liam is following behind him, laughing at something on his phone, and Louis can hear the TV in the living room flicker to life. Zayn’s doing, he reasons before smacking Niall on the back of his head.
“Move you lump and let me put some clothes on.”
“Ew,” Niall exclaims, running from the room like he’s been burnt. Truthfully, after spending endless days on the road together, they aren’t ashamed about getting dressed in front of each other anymore. He remembers their first tour when Harry used to walk around practically naked in their shared hotel rooms with no shame at all. His face flushes at the thought and he leans over the edge of his bed to grab his joggers, although anyone can still see. Liam’s still standing in the doorway after all.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Louis asks when he sufficiently clothed.
“Nothing, thought we’d have a lazy day and watch a few films. We’ve been working hard in the studio lately and Zayn reckons he could do with a break. You game?” Liam looks up from his phone and smiles.
Four hours and two films later they have worked their way through all of Louis’ snacks and Niall is finishing off the last of it from his position on the sofa, taking up all the space, leaving Zayn to sit on the floor and Liam and Louis to share the armchair.
“Whose house next boys?” Zayn asks, taking his eyes off the lorry chase in Die Hard 4.0. “Niall appears to have eaten you out of house and home, Louis.”
“Sorry mate!” Niall says around a mouthful of popcorn and Louis can’t bring himself to care. He’s relaxed and happy on Liam’s lap. The latter’s hand has been softly stroking his arm for the last hour and Louis has been resisting sleep for the last ten minutes. Being the smallest, he’s always the one on laps when there aren’t enough seats, or being carried to bed after they've had too much to drink.
But being the smallest does not stop him from being the loudest. Louis was always being told off for pulling pranks on the tour crew when they were away. Paul, their tour manager, normally pulls him to the side and has a few stern words with him, when he can catch him that is, seeing as he’s not above hiding when the moment calls for it. And even when he just carries on after, Paul just shakes his head fondly and walks away.
One time Louis painstakingly replaced everyone’s toothpaste with shaving foam. It was hilarious to watch the following morning as everyone was emerging from their rooms with grimaces on their faces and shouts of “Louis!” following him down the corridor as he made himself scarce. In the early days he would hide in Harry’s room, under the duvet with Harry preferably, cackling away until Paul dragged him out of the bed by his ears. It was decided from then that no one should keep their rooms unlocked, because if Louis could get in, what was to stop some insane fan doing the same thing?
After that he had to get creative, but when Harry and Louis were spilt up, the pranks stopped. Louis couldn’t help but think his personality was being tampered down, but no one questioned it and enjoyed the peace and quiet.
After Die Hard finishes it’s decided that Liam’s house is next on the list because he has a small cinema set up in his basement. Louis doesn’t know when they ever had time to use it. This is the longest they’ve ever stopped for since One Direction was formed and free time wasn’t exactly something they had a lot of.
On the way to Liam’s place they grab more snacks and alcohol from the Tesco nearby, and after signing a few autographs and posing for pictures, they make their way down to the basement. Niall is just setting up Iron Man 3, as per a request from Zayn, when Louis’ phone chimes with an incoming WhatsApp message.
Opening up the app, he sees that it’s from Nick Grimshaw (who called Liam the day after their last appearance for Louis’ number. “For if you ever need to talk,” Nick had said). It reads: Hiya mate, just letting you know before anyone else does, Harry is making his way home tonight. He says it’s time. Go get him tiger ;)
When he looks up, all eyes are on him. Not trusting himself to speak, he passes his phone to Niall who reads it before leaping into the air, phone clutched in his hand and screaming with laughter.
“Oh god, yes baby. Thank you!” he shouts to the ceiling, passing the phone to a curious Zayn with Liam reading over his shoulder.
“Louis, you okay?” Liam asks when he still hasn’t said or moved a few moments later.
Louis clears his throat and nods, being pulled from his sitting position by Niall who spins him round in circles. Louis can’t help the bubble of laughter that comes from his mouth and before he knows it, they’re all standing together, heads bowed coming up with a plan for that evening.
-.-
“He’s coming back, baby,” Niall shouts and a bottle of champagne appears from behind his back.
They all take turns drinking from the bottle and settle down on the sofa several hours later with another film playing in the background on Harry’s big screen TV. They’re take turns to talk about what they want to do first when Harry comes home. It’s a toss-up between slap Harry across the face and kiss him to death.
Looking around Harry’s flat, Louis spots the framed photos on the sideboard under the window. Without meaning to, he’s on his feet and picking up one of the smallest ones. He smiles when he sees that it’s a selfie that Louis took of him and Harry during a gig in Spain a year or so after they first met.
Harry has his arm around Louis’ neck and is pulling him in tight against him, face turned to the camera and the brightest smile on his face, mid-laugh. His skin is tanned and shiny and you can just about make out the drooping collar of his tank top at the bottom of the photo; his chest free of tattoos. His eyes are squinted in the sun, but Louis can make out how big the black of his eyes are compared to the green around it. Next to him Louis’ pulling a funny face; cheeks screwed up and teeth baring for the camera. It’s his favourite picture of them and he remembers having it as his phone wallpaper for months after.
Louis gets so caught up in the moment that it takes a minute to realise that no one is speaking and the TV has been muted. The air in the room is electric with apprehension and he can feel the weight of a gaze on his back.
He gulps before turning round.
There, standing in the entryway, is the most perfect sight he has ever seen.
Harry has his hands in his pockets, a big heavy rucksack over one shoulder and sunglasses pushed up over his head. He’s wearing a heavy leather coat that looks about three sizes too big for him and a pair of loose fitting jeans that are hanging precariously off his slim hips. His hair is shorter than Louis ever remembers it being but it looks good, suits him even. He looks, well, he looks great, Louis decides.
Desire makes its way through his veins and he can feel all the blood in his body starting to rush south and he’s powerless to stop it.
“Hi guys,” is the first thing Harry says before Liam, Zayn and Niall are up off the sofa and dashing across to him. Zayn is taking his bag off his shoulder, Niall is cheering and jumping up and down, while Liam stands in front of him sizing him up. Louis can’t move from his spot by the window, still holding the photo in one hand and the other in a fist next to him.
His brain just won’t engage with his body and all he can do is stand and stare and not blink because if he blinks and Harry disappears, well, Louis might just disappear along with him.
Harry’s eyes flicker over his body before landing on the photo in his hand. After a beat, he locks onto Louis’ eyes and keeps them there. Louis feels his cheeks blush under Harry’s unwavering gaze and Harry smiles before looking away.
He gulps again when his body finally catches up with what he wants it to do, but instead of going over and joining what he can only liken to something out of a comedy sketch - complete with the funny faces Niall is pulling at him over Harry’s shoulder - he turns his back on the group hug it has now turned into, places the photo in its rightful place and tries to flee to the kitchen.
“Louis?” There’s a question in Harry’s voice, which he has never heard sounding so terrified in all his life. He looks back at him and sees worry in his eyes and one of his hands outstretched like he’s reaching for him.
“Let me just…” He finally flees into the kitchen and stops at the sink, turning the cold tap on. He splashes his face a few times and reaches for the towel he knows is by the oven. His hand collides with a body next to him.
He bolts upright and turns to find Harry looking at him, no leather jacket in sight, holding out the towel and looking at him like he’s one of the wonders of the world. It makes Louis’ insides clench before he takes the towel off Harry and pats his face dry. He flings it on the side and turns to face Harry fully. Louis stares at a button on his shirt and can’t bring himself to look at Harry’s face again. He’s not entirely sure he’ll be able to hold himself together when he does and he’s not going to embarrass himself by crying like a heartbroken school girl.
A hand touches his shoulder before a finger lands under his chin and tips his head up. And he’s now forced to look into Harry’s eyes. They’re as green as he remembers and not a trace of tiredness in them. They look as bright and childlike as they did when they were younger and hadn’t been made world-weary and dull under the pressure of being a teenager in the public eye.
Louis flickers his eyes between the two eyes, feeling his own start to well up before a sob erupts out of his chest followed by more and more until he’s crying freely under Harry’s scrutiny. He doesn’t even register what he’s doing, getting on the tips of his toes and throwing his arms around Harry’s back. Harry stumbles a little and puts his own arms around Louis, HarryHarryHarry, squeezing him so tight that Louis wonders if he’ll be able to feel anything below his waist when they break apart.
“Oh Louis, my Louis, oh god.”
“Harry. You’re back. You’re really back.”
Louis feels the sobs getting bigger and he buries his head in Harry’s shoulder, feeling a hand alternating between running over the back of his head and sliding down his back to meet the other one at his waist, while fingers are brushing the bare skin at the bottom of his t-shirt where it’s ridden up.
They stand there for an eternity as Louis’ sobs die down to sniffles and he should feel ashamed for soaking the material off Harry’s t-shirt, but he can’t bring himself to care when everything he has ever wanted in the whole universe is in his arms and whispering platitudes in his ear.
“Are you staying?” Louis asks, barely forming the words when his mouth feels dry all of the sudden.
“Yeah, if you’ll have me back, love. Don’t plan on going anywhere again without you guys; without you,” Harry says frankly, leaning down to place a closed-mouth kiss to Louis forehead. Louis closes his eyes at the sensation and a shudder makes its way down his spine. Harry chuckles when he feels it.
“Ahem!” is coughed from the doorway and Louis startles, turning on the spot, made difficult from the fact that Harry has not let him go and is holding him just as tightly. His shirt is twisted, but Harry’s hands are resting firmly on his stomach and the feeling is incredible.
Louis sees the other three in the doorway to the kitchen. Liam has tears in his eyes and Louis swears he can see Zayn’s secretly wiping a tear off his face. Niall’s beaming, big and proud behind him, arms around both of their shoulders and chin propped up in between. If Louis had a camera, he’d be taking pictures and blackmailing them for weeks, but unfortunately his phone is in the other room and Harry is standing right behind and Louis never wants to move again.
“We’re going to take off,” Zayn says, clearing his throat when it comes out a bit husky, “Let you two catch up and all, but we’ll be back first thing, Harry, and we expect to hear where the hell you’ve been these last few months.” He says it so sternly for someone who’s normally the most laid back of them all. Louis reckons he could give Simon a run for his money with that tone of voice.
“Yeah, no worries mate,” Harry says, “I’m sorry, but I’ll explain it all tomorrow, and I love you guys. Thank you for waiting for me.”
All three come forward and they huddle together for a hug before the boys depart and leave Louis and Harry to catch up.
The two of them spend all night locked in Harry’s flat, cuddling on the sofa as Harry recounts the story of his time away. Neither moves except to make tea and toast and rush visits to the bathroom. And even then the other isn’t too far away. Louis sits on the counter as Harry toasts bread under the grill and tells him about being locked away in a private villa on the south coast of Italy, spending his days doing yoga and writing in his diary. He learnt how to scuba dive after paying a local bloke to keep his mouth shut and signing a poster for his daughter. He told him about falling asleep under the stars and thinking about Louis and wondering what he was doing at that exact moment.
Just as the sky was starting to become purple with the promise of a new day, Harry moves onto his time back in London where he was locked in recording studios and a rented flat just at the other side of the city. Here he tells Louis about how he’d heard the first interview on the radio (he kisses Louis’ temple when he flushes with embarrassment at being reminded of it and giggles) and how he’d cursed Nick for days afterwards for upsetting Louis and forcing Nick to invite him back to do it properly.
Harry tells him of the moment he collapsed on stage, how it felt to be fine one second and waking up in hospital the next, attached to drips and machines and strangers surrounding him. Afterwards Louis talks about how it felt to see him drop to the stage floor, how he couldn’t move and had to be led away, and if it wasn’t for the rest of them, he probably wouldn’t have made it through the first six months without their support. Throughout, Harry presses kisses into the gap where Louis’ neck meets his shoulder, murmuring apologises into his skin.
They curl up on the sofa, Harry on his back and Louis between his legs, leaning against his chest so that Harry has to bend his neck at what’s sure to be an awkward angle to be able to see him. They eventually go silent, just looking at each other, relearning shapes, blemishes and shadows, and that’s when Louis finally leans up over Harry. He drops to his elbows to rest on the arm of the sofa so Harry has to look directly up at him to see him properly.
He flicks his eyes down to Harry’s lips and back to his eyes, memorising the all the colours of them, before lowering his own lips to the perfect ones below him.
Louis isn’t sure how long they exchange short, sweet kisses for, before he settles back down to rest his head directly over Harry’s heart. He listens to the slow, calm beat of it until the exhaustion of the long day and night pulls him into a peaceful slumber.
He awakes to quiet voices a few hours later, sun high in the sky so it must be nearly noon. Harry hasn’t moved but he can feel the slow rumble of his chest as he speaks. When he opens his eyes he can see Liam sat on the floor next to Harry’s head, and when Liam sees that he’s awake he gives an easy smile to let him know that all is good before Louis turns head into Harry’s chest and lets out a pleased sigh.
Zayn and Niall come out of the kitchen, carrying mugs of tea and plates of sandwiches, and join Liam on the floor, leaving Louis to lounge on the sofa next to Harry as Harry tells his story all over again. Louis sits there and stares at Harry’s profile as he talks, thanking all the gods that this boy finally came home to them.
-.-
18 months later…
‘One Direction; back in business!’
Being able to perform again is all Louis has been thinking about since they announced the new tour nine months previously. It used to be because it was always so exciting to get to see their fans all over the world, get up on stage and sing the songs they’d been perfecting for months and doing it with his best friends. This time, however, he can’t help the knot of worry that takes hold in his chest.
He knows that what happened last time isn’t likely to happen ever again. Between the management team and the record label, their schedule has so many breaks in it that this tour is going to last well into the next century. They have less dates, in less cities and more days off in between. No one’s taking any chances. The lads have even made a pact that if it ever starts to be too much for anyone they’ll stop, though it’s the last thing Harry wants, he pointed it out the last time it was discussed.
Still, being back on stage is nerve-wrecking for all the wrong reasons. Louis thinks until they have sung the last song he’s going to be a complete wreck and if he doesn’t throw up from the worry he’ll be surprised.
“Thirty seconds until you’re on boys,” Paul calls out from somewhere within the mass of people who’re guiding the group to the back of the stage.
“Okay, group huddle,” Niall calls, putting his arms around Liam and Zayn and drawing them all together. When they pull apart, Harry pulls Louis to the side.
“You okay, love?” Harry asks, bringing his forehead to Louis’ and looking into his eyes. Louis feels that he could get lost in how green and bright they are if they stand there for too long.
“I’m good, just nervous is all,” Louis replies, lifting his hands to rest on Harry’s shoulder and taking a deep breath. He reaches up and places a chaste kiss on Harry’s mouth.
“No need, babe. This is what we’ve been working for. All these months of hanging around and not doing anything have made me realise how great we have it. We have the others, and our families and each other. We’re going to be fine. I love you. Move in with me when we get home, yeah?”
Louis pulls his head away from Harry sharply, not expecting that at all. He flicks his eyes between Harry’s, searching to see if he’s serious. Yes, at this point, Louis hasn’t been home in weeks and pretty much all of his clothes are at Harry’s but neither has officially said that they’re living together now. When Harry gives him a small smile, dimples blooming, Louis smiles back.
Before Louis can actually say anything, they’re being pushed onto the stage, Liam and Zayn in front of them and Niall behind. Harry’s hand finds his and pulls him to the front of the stage as Liam starts to see the opening lines of Girl Almighty. When it gets to Louis’ bit he looks over to Harry, sees him grinning like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, microphone up in the air to encourage the fans to sing, the knot of worry finally unwinding after days of stressing and he starts singing the chorus with a new lease of life. Harry notices the change and looks over to him, winking before running off to the other side of the stage to sing with fans the other side. Louis laughs.
He’ll save his answer for when they get to the hotel after, to when the adrenaline of the first show has gone and they’ve showered and eaten dinner with the lads, and to when they’re tucked up in bed in their joint hotel room, bodies curled up around each other.
For his answer is yes and has always been yes for Louis. Harry is where his home is and it will forever remain that way.