Archive of Our Own ^beta

February, 2023 

“Up for it, then?” he asks through a raised eyebrow, his lips tugging up in an easy smirk.

Which. 

No , he is not up for it. He will never be up for it, especially when it included frat boys who carelessly threw arrogant smirks at people like the whole world was at their feet. 

The crinkles though.

The crinkles by the side of his eyes did not make his aura seem comforting and almost… luring. Like handing Louis his heart wouldn’t be all that bad. Like whispering sweet nothings against his lips on a lazy Saturday morning would mean everything. Like having him would feel like having the world at the palm of his hand. 

It did not.

Who the fuck did Louis Tomlinson think he was, anyways ? Did he conveniently assume that batting his pretty eyelashes and using his honey coated voice on Harry brought him to his knees like an eager puppy with his tongue out, willing to do anything to please his master? 

Well that isn’t far from accurate, is it? a voice prompts in his head. Harry chooses to ignore that. 

Instead, he goes back to flipping through the new edition of the Artemis Chronicles , scanning through the pages to check for any grammatical or structural errors he might have missed out during his late night editing. Being the editor of the university’s newsletter wasn’t easy work, and Harry knew that when he took up the position Professor May had graciously offered him in his fourth semester. 

“Wasn’t gracious of her, love. You’ve worked your ass off for this. I've made you plenty of cups of tea, haven’t i? Not being partial ‘cause it’s you when I say you’re the only one who deserves this.” A familiar voice echoes, almost like some sort of a reminder, twinging bittersweet at his heart.  

“C’mon now, Harry,” Louis sighs, sliding his aviators off his head where it held back his fringe, probably realising that Harry could see through his cool demeanour. “You don’t think it’s a solid idea?” he questions, sliding the caramel-tinged arm of his glass through the v-neck of his shirt, folding his arms across his chest. “The prize money would do us both a world of good. S’a no brainer, baby. We could-”

“Don’t call me that.” Harry grits his teeth, eyes snapping up at Louis, who for a second appears startled at his cold tone.

He almost feels bad at the tone he’d used, but of course, it’s Louis Tomlinson he’s dealing with. He shouldn’t spare a spec of empathy. Such defiance only encouraged him, startled expression melting into his trademark Cheshire cat smile as he held his arms up in mock surrender, eyes twinkling as he let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Alright there, fierce feline, pipe down,” Louis remarks, his grin only widening at Harry’s blatant eyeroll. 

He’s done, honestly. He doesn’t have the energy to keep up with Louis’ never ending supply of sass and wit, so he decides to be the adult and forces himself to maintain his composure, quickly packing his study material into his bag from where he decided to sit and spend a quiet afternoon at his favourite garden bench, facing him with a stern look. 

“What do you want, Louis?” He asks resignedly. 

And he instantly sees Louis’ expression go soft, almost guilty, a touch fond, as though he’d hand Harry the moon if he asked him to.

 It makes his knees go weak. 

Not again, he reminds himself. 

He averts his gaze. 

“I’ve been a proper nuisance to you today, haven’t I?” Louis asks, sheepishly scratching at the back of his neck.

Harry scoffs. “Today? Try seven days of the week.” 

“What do you suggest I try, love?” He questions, saccharine-sweet. 

“Cut to the chase, Tomlinson.”

“The chase, Styles, is that we might actually have a chance at winning this gig,” he shrugs, motioning at Harry. “You’re a phenomenal baker, H. I’m a testimony to that. And while I prefer ordering around otherwise,” he drags on the last word, eyeing him up and down with what he can only describe as pure lust. It absolutely does not send a zip of spark through Harry.

Louis clears his throat, continuing, “I’m phenomenal at taking orders and helping out in the kitchen, and you’re testimony to that. So yeah. We’ve definitely got a chance at this, Harry. You know we’ve got plenty of compatibility.” 

He did not just say that. 

“Compatibility, you say?” Harry chuckles affronted, shaking his head unbelievingly at the absurdity of that statement. “Dunno what gave you that impression,” he puts forth casually, shrugging as he levels him with more of a serious look, “you know, given that we broke up less than a month ago.” 

Fuck.

His words strike sharper than a knife, the atmosphere turning uneasily cold as they linger in the air. Silence envelops them as the gravity of his words sink in, neither of them wanting to be the first to speak. 

His heart shatters into a million pieces when he sees Louis shrink on himself, dragging the lapels of his jean jacket over each other in search of some kind of comfort, his expression unsure. He hates that he has to see him like this, hands itching to pull him into his safe embrace, to whisper a quiet, “I'm here, love, I'm right here,” against his forehead like he always does…or rather like he always did. But he knows he can’t offer him the safety, the intimacy of such words after they’d resorted to upholding their mutual decision three weeks ago.

“I-I meant kitchen wise. You know,” Louis scoffs, attempting to cover the hurt in his voice as though it isn’t blaringly evident to Harry, “like when we bake at home,” he says, instantly cringing at the choice of his words, “I mean at the bakery or at the kitchen. M’pretty fucking sure you’ve got the point I’m trying to make here, H.” 

It isn’t fair, though, Harry thinks. Louis can’t just approach him with the idea of participating in some random valentines day baking competition only weeks after they’d broken up. As much as it was mutual between them, wanting to ‘take a break’ (which; everyone knows is code for never wanting to see the person in any capacity for a while at least.), it weighed rather heavily on Harry’s heart. 

“Listen, Louis,” he starts, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence lingering between them. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s a good idea. We both know it won’t do our decision any good if we…” he hesitates, picking at his nails, “...if we interact in any sense. It hasn’t even been a month, Lou.” 

He feels Louis’ hands on his own, gently prying away his fingers from where Harry was meticulously scratching out a perfectly applied coat of marshmallow pink nail varnish, a nervous tick of his.

Of course, Louis knows.

“Harry,” Louis says, tone soft, too soft for him to handle. He almost melts when Louis runs a thumb over his nails, like he cares about his nails, his nails, for fucks sake, but he knows better than to display any of his emotions on his face. “Do you remember our first date?” 

What.

“What?” he echoes, thrown off by his ex’s sudden change of subject. Like Harry could ever forget. “‘Course I remember. I was the one who planned it out.” 

“Well, not that one.” Louis rolls his eyes, and Harry’s about to throw hands. The fucking audacity, he swears. “Our actual first date, Harry. Our kitchen date,” he says, and raises an eyebrow, as though it’s obvious what he’s trying to convey. Like Harry should be able to get it-

Oh. 

Oh. 

His breath hitches when he feels Louis’ fingers slide against his own, expression of relief when he murmurs, “Guess you figured it out,” into their intertwined fingers, now held against his lips.

 “At least for old times sake, H. Think about it,” he whispers, leaving the gentlest peck against his knuckles. Eyes sparkling with hope, he tilts his head to the side, charmingly sending a salut his way. “Alright then, fierce feline. I’ll take your leave now. Enough of me for today, yeah?” he asks, shooting him his crinkle-eyed smile that he knows Harry is weak for. 

Harry manages to nod back, already missing Louis’ touch when he feels him pull away, staring at him walking towards the campus, before he turns to face Harry, “Oh, by the way, loved the piece on transgender representation in modern literature,” he says, motioning at his own copy of the university’s newsletter. “Phenomenally put as usual, editor Styles.”

✩⡱

October, 2021 - i tapped on your window

The first time they meet, it’s autumn. 

Harry’s busy checking on the cake for the petit fours rising in the oven during his shift at Marie’s boulangerie when he hears the bell chime, indicating that they’ve got a new customer in. It brings him a sense of relief that someone had finally decided to walk into the quaint bakery, considering the reckless amount of cinnamon sugar pumpkin muffins he’d decided to bake impulsively on that day. Pausing the spotify autumn playlist he’d mindlessly put on in the background, he wipes his hands on the maroon-hued apron loosely hugging his figure and makes his way to the counter, determined to sell at least a dozen of those impulse muffins. 

“Char, look after the oven, yeah?” He calls out to Charu, who despite having her earpods on, coolly sends him a thumbs up, Harry deeming it a good enough response.

He doesn’t expect to find Louis Tomlinson, president of Alpha Phi Kappa bunched up in the cosiest Gosha Rubchinskiy hoodie set looking delectably scrumptious as he scrolls through his phone. 

Jesus fucking Christ. Why?

Why? Why did fate have to play him ever so cruelly in matters of romance? 

So what if he secretly sports a crush on the president of the fraternity he trash talks every weekend at the crochet club? Not without reason, of course. Only a month ago, Larson Miller from Alpha Phi Kappa broke not only Lizzie Jones’ heart but also her trust when she found him in bed with her roommate in her dorm. The shock of that betrayal was still fresh in the minds of all members of the club (thanks to Larson’s deceivingly kind gestures towards the club, going as far as to bring them warm beverages during his visits while seeing Lizzie), and so his criticism was perfectly valid.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a tiny, very inconsequential, crush on the president. It means nothing. 

Right? Right? 

It means nothing, Harry repeats to himself as he walks towards the cash register, attempting to drown out the persistent voice of doubt in his head while putting on his customer face. 

“Hi!,” Harry greets, finally drawing Louis’ attention to him. “Welcome to Marie’s boulangerie. How can I get you started on this very beautiful day?” 

Louis’ lips curl in a soft smile. “Hey,” he greets back, tone as warm as toast. “Harry, right?” he lifts an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Harry snorts. “Well spotted,” he chides, gesturing at the name tag pinned to his apron, “Wouldn’t have guessed that one.” 

“Oh,” Louis chuckles, shaking his head. “Sorry love, hadn’t noticed that. Though I do recall taking a first aid class with you in our first year? If I’m not mistaken?” 

Recovering from the fact that Louis had just referred to him as love , it takes Harry a minute to register the words coming out of his mouth. 

“That,” Harry points at him, “you are not. Mistaken, I mean.” 

Harry is handling this well. Really. 

“Right,” Louis replies amusedly, a smug smile on his face that goes straight in between Harry’s legs.

Jesus.

“So!” he starts, an octave higher, “what can I get you starte- fucking shit ” he yelps as he trips over nothing, managing to grab the edge of the reception counter just in time, and regaining his balance.

“Oh my god, Harry. Are you alright babe?” Louis asks worriedly, concern written all over his face as he gently grasps Harry’s elbow, trying to steady him as Harry’s legs wobble beneath him once again. 

“Harry, are you alright out there bubba?” He hears Charu ask from inside, worry evident in her voice. “D’you need my help with anything? M’a bit busy with the pain au chocolats here.”

“Everythings fine here Char,” Harry yells back. “M’just working with the register,” he lies, leaning against the counter as he catches his breath.   

“Jesus, you’ve got a pair of bambi legs on, haven’t you?” he hears Louis mutter under his breath.

 “M’fine,” Harry reassures him, giggling at the contrast of Louis’ snarky words coated in concern. “Bambi legs, huh?” he asks, an amused smile on his lips. 

He shrugs, pulling his palms away from where it rested on Harry’s arm. “Sorry if that offends you love, but in all honesty this definitely seems like a case of bambi legs to me.” 

“You might be just,” he pinches the air, “a little bit accurate with that statement.” 

“Just,” Louis asks, pinching the air the same amount as Harry, “a little bit, huh?”

“Mhm,” Harry says, voice wavering with laughter as he walks behind the pastry display counter. “Now, skipping the pleasantries as they don’t seem to work well for me,” he rolls his eyes at Louis snorting, “Yeah, yeah. Mock me all you want. But,” he interjects when he sees Louis open his mouth, probably with a retort of his own, “tell me what you’d like to try before that.”

“Hmm,” Louis contemplates, scanning through the variety of pastries and breads, looking sort of overwhelmed at the wide range of options presented. 

“I could guide you through it, if you’d like?” Harry offers. 

“Please do. M’a thousand percent clueless as you can see,” Louis says.

“Sure,” he nods. “Are you generally fond of vanilla and chocolate?” he asks, “or are you more into stronger seasonal flavours like pumpkin, cinnamon,” he offers, gesturing at the impulse muffins, his gaze lingering just a second longer before moving on to the next item on the rack. “Or perhaps banana, tea? We’ve got this amazing loaf of chai-spiced banana bread that’s calling your name.” 

“Is it now?” Louis plays along. “Thought it was the muffins calling my name, actually.” he comments, folding his arms over his chest. “But if you say s’the banana bread then hand me a loa-”

“Are you sure you aren’t a wizard or someone?” Harry asks, genuinely considering the possibility of Louis being a supernatural entity. 

“Me?” Louis asks, feigning innocence as he points at himself, “But I thought Yer a wizard, Harry. ”

Harry groans, dragging a hand down his face, muffling “You can do so much better than that,” into the cushion of his palm. 

“You looked at those muffins with a lot of pride,” Louis smiles, shrugging. “Guessed that you might’ve baked ‘em.”

Harry grins, feeling something akin to a spring garden blooming in his chest. show me your spring heart through curtains of golden fall  

Too early for that. 

Shaking his mind away from such sickeningly sappy thoughts, Harry carefully picks out a muffin to hand Louis. “Baked ‘em on impulse today  for some reason. Go on, have a taste test then.” 

The first bite Louis takes, Harry can’t take it anymore. 

Watching Louis’ eyes roll back as they screw shut, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows the first bite, pink tongue swiftly licking the crumbs at the side of his lips, groan echoing his mark of approval-

It’s…it’s pornographic to say the least. 

Harry busies himself with arranging the batch of caramel apples he’d left to dry as Louis finishes the muffin, trying not to catch even a glimpse of Louis’ lips. Or his face. Or his arse. Or him in general.

“Gimme the whole batch,” Louis requests once he’s finished with the muffin. “Promised the lads I’d bring them something from the bakery. They’d finish it up in less than a minute probably,” Louis says, fondness coating his features. 

Harry smiles. “Of course,” he says, quickly packing the muffins into a recyclable box, placing an autumn themed sticker he’d printed out specifically to add a festive touch onto the top.  

“Anything else I can get you?” he asks before handing him the parcel. “Any hot beverages you’re fond of? Tea perhaps?”

“Think I’d love a cuppa to go. But,” Louis hesitates, scratching at his neck, refusing to meet Harry’s gaze. 

“But..?” Harry prompts, encouragingly. 

“Uh…”

“Just c’mon with it,” Harry reassures. “Won’t judge you if you like whipped cream on your tea.”

That seems to do it for Louis, eyes widening in shock. “Christ, Harry. Was working up the courage to ask for you number with the tea, not whipped fuckin’ cream, for fucks sake,” he blurts out, clapping a palm over his mouth when he realises what he’d just said. 

And if Harry smugly hands him piping hot tea with his number messily scrawled across the paper cup, then it’s only for them to know.

The first time they meet, it’s chaos. 

✩⡱

February, 2023 

“So did you say yes when he proposed?” Niall asks, fingers scattering across the keyboard of his macbook, eyes not leaving the screen of his laptop for a second. He sniffles, adjusting his black-rimmed spectacles across the bridge of his nose, squinting at the words splayed on his thousand word document as if they make no sense to him. 

They decide to get some work done at the university library, figuring it’s the best way to spend some time together while also ensuring they’re being productive. Niall, being a law student, already had a good amount of assignments pending, so finishing up at least a quarter of his work was what he’d aimed for. Agreeing, Harry concluded that he’d start working on story ideas for the next edition of the newsletter while also finishing up some media law and ethics homework, as the subject intersected with Niall’s major. Determined to get his mind off everything other than homework, Harry tries his best to stay focused.

Halfway through their study session, Harry caves. 

Talking to Niall about anything that bothers him has been a habit of his ever since they first became friends at high school. Over the years, they’ve grown closer, and it has become even easier for Harry to confide in him, knowing that he’ll always be there to listen and offer comfort, no matter what the situation. With Niall always by his side, Harry knows that he can count on him for anything—a simple chat or a shoulder to cry on.

And so he talks, talks his heart out for more than an hour and a half,  all about a conversation that lasted for less than seven minutes. 

“Don’t say it like that!” Harry squawks, breaking the silence enveloping the room like shattering an antique vase, earning a few disapproving glares sent their way. He mutters a quiet “sorry,” returning to stare irritably at his friend. 

“You know what I meant, Harrison,” Niall shrugs.

“Who the fuck is Harrison?”

“You Harry, my son. I, priest Niall Horan James-”

“James is literally your middle name but okay,” 

“-take you under my wing, and I  shall now bestow upon you-”

“Niall!” Harry whisper screams, “What the fuck are you bluffing about?” 

“Louis spoke to me the other day,” Niall blurts out, eyeing Harry cautiously. “I saw him and Zayn on their way back from practice on Tuesday. We had a chat.”  

Oh. “Oh,” Harry mutters, not knowing what else to say. “What,” he hesitates, “what happened? I mean, like how’d the talk go? Was it a civil one?” 

“Of course it was,” Niall huffs as though he’s ridiculous for suggesting otherwise. “Had to say whatever was on my mind though,” he shrugs. 

“Niall,” Harry warns, knowing how his friend can easily go all passive-aggressive with his words when needed, “What did you say?”

He sighs, running  fingers through his quiff. “Nothing. Just asked him about football practice.” 

“And?” Harry presses. 

“And nothing Haz. I…see, he asked me how I was doing, I told him to get to the point. Asked me how you were. So I told him to ask you directly if he had the balls or something.”

“Or something,” Harry echoes through a wry smile, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “What did he say,” he sighs. 

“Okay before you go at me, I do kinda feel bad for snapping at him like that now. He looked…dejected in a way. When I said that. Probably thought I’d be up for a normal chat.”

“ Oh ..” Harry whispers, the urge to wrap around him in one of his soft rose scented pastel pink cardigans and then with his arms reaching its peak. Oh, Louis.

It’s Niall’s very obvious cough that has him snapping out of his thoughts, having a sympathetic smile sent his way when he realises what he’d said out loud. 

Harry resorts to simply clearing his throat, going back to scanning through media ethics notes and pretending as though he’d never said anything.

“I knew you’d feel bad,” Niall says, reaching out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Don’t you fret dear Harold. We had an okay chat. Spoke about the charity match gala the frat’s organising next month and stuff. He was beaming when he spoke about it, ya know?” 

“Yeah?” Harry smiles, “Love that he’s so passionate about that.”

“Mhm,” Niall nods, “Zayn told me that he’s been training real hard,” he chuckles, “He’s been giving the boys a tough time with the training sessions. But it’s Tommo, no? all of us know he’s the best at this.”

“Of course he is,” Harry says, “he’s always very excited to talk about it. I just…"

“You just?” Niall urges.

“I hope he doesn’t push himself over the edge too much,” Harry states quietly, a sharp pang of hurt shooting through his heart because he just…he worries too much. Especially when it comes to Louis, he has always worried about all of the responsibility the boy takes upon himself as though it weighs nothing on his shoulders, when Harry has seen the baggage weighing down on him like an anchor too heavy for a person to bear.

“It’s,” Harry chuckles, no humour behind his laugh, “It’s one of the reasons, you know,” he says, voice wavering and eyes up at the ceiling, burning stubbornly so as to not let a single tear shed. “S’one of the reasons we…” 

Can’t say it

“I know petal,” Niall reassures, comfortingly running a palm up and down his arm, “We don’t need to talk about this if you don’t want to-”

“Honestly, I really don’t know what to do Ni,” Harry goes on as though he hasn’t heard him, “I… Of course he asked me to participate for the money, that comes without being said. But then he said…he brought up…he asked me to participate for old times sake. What does that mean?” he questions, saltwater now streaming steadily down his cheeks, “Is…is it his way of asking us for closure? To acknowledge that we had good times, ending our relationship on a nostalgic note or some bullshit?” he spits out, tone bitter and heart wounded. 

Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe

“Oh H, come here sunshine,” Niall pulls him into his warm embrace not expecting a reply, Harry quietly crying into his shoulder. 

“I don’t like it,” he whimpers, his voice pathetically pleading, “I don’t know if I’m ready for that im-” he gasps out between sharp breaths, “I’m scared, Niall,” he sniffles, letting out a shaky breath when he feels Niall rubbing circles on his back soothingly. 

“Hush now love, take a few breaths for me,” Niall whispers softly, relief washing through when Harry’s breathing pattern gradually starts returning to normal. “That’s it H, that’s it petal.”

“M’so pathetic,” Harry groans, blowing his nose into the kerchief Niall hands him. “Ugh, what’s wrong with me? I brought up the idea of us breaking up to him .” 

“Doesn’t make your emotions any less valid. You did what you had to do Harry, what you felt was essential for your relationship, for your good. I’d even go further to say for the good of both of you, it was mutual.” Niall reassures firmly, words laced in earnest. “Get that through your curly thick head okay?” 

Harry snorts, rolling his eyes and brushing away a solitary tear streaking down his cheekbone, “Kay, I understand,” he squeezes Niall’s palm. “Thank you for staying through my moping sessions.”

“Not you talking as if it’s something new. I’ve been dealing with this since your first boyfrie-ouch! You motherfucker-”

“Silence, boys, ” The librarian says, smiling through gritted teeth. “Work on your assignments with utmost diligence, or come back another time to finish it up. Okay?” Evident that the librarian has had enough of them, Harry mutters a quiet apology under his breath quickly packing his stuff into his bag, urging Niall to do the same. 

“I haven’t got a lot of work at the bakery today. Just some prep work for tomorrow,” Harry says, shoving the stack of his media books into the bag, “Wanna come in for a quick coffee?”

“Ooo, prep work,” Niall wiggles his eyebrows, sounding like a twelve year old, “and who am I to refuse free coffee?” he asks, sliding the MacBook into his laptop sleeve and placing it into his bag.

“You’re an idiot,” Harry rolls his eyes, slinging the bag over his shoulders, “and you’re paying.”

✩⡱

Once they’re at Marie’s boulangerie, Harry gets to work, quickly preparing the red velvet cake batter and sliding it into the oven as Niall takes it upon himself to work the coffee machine, pouring them each a steaming cup of espresso. 

“When’s Marie coming back from town?” Niall asks, blowing over the steaming mug before taking a small sip. 

“Hopefully by next week,” Harry answers, carefully filling in the tart shells with mango cream. “Her mom’s not doing well, Ni. Can’t really rush her now, can I? She should take her time, poor love.” 

“But Perrie’s here to help you out, yeah? And the girls too? Charu and Sarah?” Niall asks, “or should I pour upon you my generosity and help you with a shif-”

“Oh hush. Perrie is here. And the girls are here too, they aren’t taking up today’s shift only ‘cause they’ve got a mock exam tomorrow. As grateful as I am at how eagerly you volunteer, we can’t afford to pay you. Plus,” he shrugs slightly, brows furrowed in focus as he fills the last shell, “we simply won’t accept free work.” 

Maire, along with her wonderful husband Perrie, are the founders of, well, Marie’s Boulangerie. Originally from a small town in northern France, Marie’s passion for baking took her to Paris, where she established a popular bakery in the heart of the city. But once she met Perrie and fell in love, Marie decided to relocate her business closer to where they were essentially about to settle down. Connecticut welcomed them with open arms, and they made the city theirs, opening a bakery right across Hartford’s campus. While it doesn’t have the same charm and popularity as the original French bakery, the couple still put a lot of love into the establishment, making sure to make it feel just like home. Marie was never the one to shy away from taking a chance, and so when a wide-eyed Harry, new to university life – a regular customer of the bakery ever since he moved into the city for college – approached them about becoming an apprentice, Marie decided to take a risk and hire him. 

He’s been there ever since. 

“Hand me a few dozen of your croissants, then,” Niall shrugs back, wincing exaggeratedly when he feels Harry smack him on the arm. “Rude,” he mutters, pouting like a put out child, rubbing at his arm, “I mean, Valentine’s day is just around the corner right? Just a week more. How’s the store gonna put up with only you guys?”

Swallowing the nervous flip his belly does at the mention of Valentine’s, Harry finishes arranging the mini mango tarts on the tray. “We’ve got proper professional workers for that, Ni. We’re all off on valentines. Just tomorrow, and the day after that we’ve gotta manage by ourselves,” he explains, carrying the tray to the refrigerator with steely focus and setting it down before wiping his hands on his apron. 

“Niall be honest,” Harry starts.

“Oh no, here we go,” Niall groans.

“You’re supposed to be my supportive best friend, you twat!”

“Supportive best friend who needs to get paid,” he sighs.

“Wanker,” Harry mutters. “Ni, but seriously…what do I do?”

“H, in all honesty I’m in no place to tell you what and what not to do. But if you want to know what I think…it’s not gonna give you a clear answer.”

“C’mon with it,” Harry urges, impatient. 

“I suppose, if you really want to know what I think, it would be best to make your decision based on what you feel like doing and not simply just to try and please others. D’you think you wanna take part in that competition? And do you wanna do it with him?”

“I think…” Harry trails off, trying to choose his words carefully, “I think I wouldn’t mind doing it you know?” he puts forth honestly, “and if it’s closure then…what other way than for it to end like this, yeah?”

“Are you asking or saying?” he asks, “‘Cause I don’t want you to accept something that makes you completely overlook your feelings. Key word here being – you .” 

“Right so if I weigh my pros and cons…”

“Right, yes. So if you don’t partake in the contest…”

“Then I’m spared the pain of interacting with someone I’m clearly not over…yet…”

“Bingo. And if you do…”

“Then I get a chance at re-establishing a friendly relationship with someone I’m clearly not over yet…?”

“I guess so?” Niall contemplates, a tad confused by his friend’s reasoning.

“Oh, oh! And if we win I could make a quick buck!”

“Only if you both win,” Niall reminds. 

“I mean,” he scoffs, fiddling with a loose thread on the apron, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Niall winces, “I really don’t think you should be contemplating-”

“Like the only thing that could possibly go wrong-”

“Technically everything-”

“-is maybe me catching myself staring at him for longer than necessary. But I mean who can blame me? Have you seen Louis?”

“You’re doing this for cock, aren’t you?” Niall sighs, removing his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No!” Harry yelps fast, almost too fast. He clears his throat. “I mean, no. of course not, don’t be daft, Niall,” he scoffs, defensiveness coating his words. “Anyways, so as I was saying, after weighing my pros and cons,” Harry drags.

“In under two minutes may I add,” Niall interferes, tone laced with doubt. 

“I see why not?” Harry concludes. 

“Do you, now?” Niall asks, still skeptical. 

Harry shrugs, pulling the thread out from his apron. 

“Might as well.”

The oven goes off. 

✩⡱

March, 2022 - so i can love you

“ God baby, your cock is sinful,” Louis rasps out, languidly stroking his own length as he rocks his hips on Harry’s lap. “Love how you stretch me out so fuckin’ good, darling.”

“ Louis ,” Harry keens, unable to process or acknowledge anything other than the fact that his boyfriend was now riding him for the past half hour, not allowing him to touch, tying his hands to the bedpost with two of Harry’s scarves. “Louis, please, ”

“Please what , darling?” Louis smirks, sweat glistening through the valley of his chest and across his collarbones. God, does Harry want to lick into the dips to catch a taste of salt lingering on his skin. “Seems like you’ve forgotten your words hm? So fucked out already, god Harry baby,” he chuckles, carding his fingers through Harry’s curls, leaving a lingering kiss to his cheek, and then the other.

He feels the heat of the kiss flourishing across his cheeks when he presses his face into the pristine coolness of the pillow, tip of his ears colouring in embarrassment at Louis’ words, his hips involuntarily bucking up to chase the heat of his tightness. 

“You’re so fuckin’ insufferable,” he whines into the pillow, feeling equal parts aroused and frustrated as he pulls against the restraints. He needs Louis to do something, he needs Louis to let him come , and if he doesn’t allow him to within the next few minutes, Harry is sure that he’s going to quite literally combust into flames. 

“What,” Louis pants out, bringing the rhythm of his rolling hips to a slow pause, fist halting over where it lazily worked over his leaking cock, a glint of challenge flashing across his features. “What did you just say?” 

Harry simply lets out a frustrated grunt, cock restlessly thrusting into Louis’ clenching rim before he feels him place a firm grip on his hip, squeezing at the sweat-damp skin punishingly, the pain sending a spark of arousal through him. 

“S’that how it is, then?” he lifts an eyebrow, his hand snaking up to curl around Harry’s neck. 

“Choke me,” Harry demands, bearing his neck under Louis’ loose grip, fingers laying splayed across the expanse of the column, “need you to choke me,” he breathes out, feeling his pulse going erratic against Louis’ palm. 

“You call me insufferable,” Louis lilts high pitched, grinding his arse in slow figure eight motions, making Harry whimper at the torturously slow pace, eyebrows furrowed and lips parting in a silent moan. “And then you want me to choke you,” he almost sobs in relief when he feels Louis apply pressure around his neck, nails slightly digging into where it meets his skin.

He leans closer, his lips grazing Harry’s “But you’re so desperate for it, aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks, leaving deceivingly chaste kisses in succession against his plush cherry red bitten lips. “Letting me tie you up,” he places a kiss right beneath his ear, inhaling the heady scent of his sweat, “Letting me use you for myself, such a generous boy,” he licks a stripe up his jaw, gently blowing over the wet trail causing Harry to erupt goosebumps all over his body. The contrast of his filthy words as against such gentle gestures makes his eyes roll back, the pit of his stomach bursting with ecstatic heat.

“Want you,” Harry mumbles incoherently, trying his best not to come from the way Louis’ arse was rocking against his cock in tantalisingly slow, deliberate movements of his hips.

“Suck,” Louis demands, tapping two of his fingers against Harry’s lips. He obediently takes Louis’ fingers into his mouth, sucking at the tip and lathing in between the seams, choppy moans vibrating across the room at the taste of Louis. Overwhelmed at the feeling of Louis in his mouth and on his cock, Harry shuts his eyes close, tears streaming down his cheeks in euphoric pleasure. 

Louis pulls his fingers out of his mouth, opting to grasp him by the jaw to draw attention, Harry’s lips jutting out under his vice grip. 

“Eyes on me baby,” Louis breathes out, picking up speed at riding him, splaying a palm across Harry’s chest for purchase. “Want you to see me ridin’ your cock like I’m made for it. Don’t you fucking close those pretty eyes of yours. Want them only on me.”

“ Lou, ” Harry mewls, arching his back at his commanding words, refusing to let his gaze falter. “M’close, please let me,” he exhales shakily, “please let me come,” he asks pleadingly, whimpering when he feels Louis bite down on his bottom lip, tongue clashing against his teeth as Harry kisses him back with equal fire, determined to chase into the taste of his boyfriend. 

“You can come whenever you want, baby,” Louis whispers against his lips, lifting himself up and down Harry’s girth, eyes never leaving Harry’s. His hard cock, tip almost purple, bobs against his softly muscled stomach, thighs quivering at his constant efforts, “been so good for me, H. Come for me now, my darling,” he rasps out, voice cracking on the last syllable. 

Harry keens high in his throat at Louis’ praising words, cock fucking into him deliriously now that he has his permission to do so. “Always wanna be good for you,” he says back, an involuntary moan leaving his lips when he watches Louis’ eyes deliciously losing focus just as it does every time he finds his sweet spot. Harry thrusts relentlessly into his prostate, determined to bring them both to their climax at the same time. 

“Together,” he whispers breathily, a shudder passing through his body when Louis grips either side of his buff shoulders as he meets every one of Harry’s well aimed thrusts with precision. He falls against him before a strangled moan exits Louis’ lips, hot breath tickling Harry’s ear as he confirms, “Together.” 

It only takes a few more well aimed thrusts against Louis’ sweet spot to bring him to his climax, thighs clenching around Harry’s hips as he stutters through a mind numbing orgasm that causes him to shoot his load all over his chest as well as Harry’s.

As Louis comes down from his high, he messily drags a finger across Harry’s sternum, scooping a bit of his own come and coats it over Harry’s parted lips, his tongue spontaneously reaching out to taste. 

“Taste it,” he orders, voice wrecked, dragging a finger down the plush pillows of Harry’s parted lips.

His brain short circuits as his orgasm rips through him unexpectedly, static filling his mind at the taste of Louis’ come while he pulses into his clenching hole. 

For a minute or so he feels everything around him go blurry, except for the heat of Louis surrounding him. His eyes burn as he shuts them close, remnant tears streaking down his cheeks, wrists going lax against the restraints holding him back. 

“So perfect for me, my darling,” he hears Louis’ gentle voice whisper to him, fingers softly raking through his unruly curls. He feels Louis’ lips leaving featherlight kisses over his eyelids, then a lingering one against his forehead. A sound of displeasure exits his throat when he feels Louis pull away from his cock, his soothing caresses back as fast as they were gone, hushed praises causing him to slowly blink his bleary eyes open. 

“There you are,” Louis smiles widely, a smile curling up Harry’s own lips at the beaming sight of him. 

“Hey,” Harry greets him roughly, a blush licking his cheeks when he realises he’s still bound by the make-do restraints. “Could you erm,” he gestures at the scarves, tugging against it to wordlessly convey what he needs to Louis. 

“Oh shit, of course babe,” Louis says, quickly removing the scarves on either wrist, hurriedly walking towards the study table to grab a bottle of lotion, Harry’s hungry gaze never once leaving his boyfriend’s arse as come leaks down his thighs. 

“Doesn’t hurt too much does it?” Louis inquires while he gently rubs lotion around his wrists, leaving apologetic kisses above his reddened skin, “Your wrists have become so red sweetheart,” his brows furrowing in concern. “Think we’ve gotta invest in something softer, yeah? I don’t want your wrists to hurt a lot, Harry love. I might have done some research the other day and added a few cuffs to me cartlist-”

“I love you so much,” Harry can’t help but say at the way his boyfriend was currently worrying over him. It warms his heart to know how concerned he is regarding Harry’s own comfort. Louis’ fingers still against his wrist, when it hits him-

“Harry?” Louis’ voice wavers, eyes wide as the bottle of lotion falls on his bed with a muted thud. “What did you just say?”

“I-” Harry hesitates, heart beating out of his chest at his own confession. Fuck they’ve been together for only three months now. Was it too soon to make such big declarations to someone? 

Someone? 

It’s Louis. 

Deeming it enough of a reason, Harry nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly, a smile taking over his face, eyes meeting Louis’ ocean blues, “I love you.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers once more before lunging on to him and enveloping him in a crushing embrace. “God, Harry ,” he tightens his arms around him, nuzzling into his boyfriend’s neck. He pulls back to look at Harry, his fingers gently scratching against his scalp. Harry wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to return his sentiment, as much as it pains his heart to do so. But Louis beats him to it. 

“I love you, Harry,” Louis confesses, chuckling as he shakes his head. “I’ve been wanting to say it to you for so long, oh my god darling.” He captures Harry’s lips in a kiss, hands exploring his chest, running up and down his neck, his touch everywhere on Harry. 

“You didn’t say,” Harry pulls away to comment, breathless, Louis chuckling as presses a kiss to his pouting lips. 

“Oh m’so sorry darling,” Louis says, leaving a kiss to his nose. “Thought it was too soon to say such big things,” he reasons. 

“We’re both really stupid,” Harry comments, thinking about how they both had the same mindsets when it came to drastically important confessions. He cocks an eyebrow, trailing a finger down Louis’ chest suggestively. “Guess we should make up for the all lost time by making love , don’t you think?”

“Oh my god, Harry,” Louis groans, scrubbing a palm down his face. “Only you can say make love and get away with me cock still half hard.”

“S’that so?” Harry asks, his dimple deepening when he pushes Louis to the bed, grinding his already hard cock against Louis’ semi, eliciting a shuddering moan out of the latter. 

“Guess we should put that to good use.” 

✩⡱

February, 2023 

Charu halts next to the nearest car she finds parked, quickly applying the bubblegum-flavoured chapstick to her lips by the side view mirror, smacking her lips once she’s satisfied with its application, and sleekly sliding the tube into her sling. Running her fingers through her lengthy hair, she gathers the silky raven locks into a low ponytail, pulling out two strands at the front and smoothing it behind her ears, adorned with shimmering vintage oxidised jhumkas. She turns to look at him, onyx eyes sparkling with excitement as she starts walking alongside Harry. 

“Wait wait wait…you said he was the one who asked you?” she asks suddenly, handing her tote bag to Harry as she pokes a straw into her pineapple-cucumber smoothie. 

“Uh huh,” Harry confirms, sliding the bag onto his shoulder, sipping from his own smoothie cup. 

“So it was his idea then!” she gasps then claps a palm over her mouth, hot-pink manicured nails contrasting beautifully against her glowing caramel skin. 

“That’s literally what I’d told you about five minutes ago, Char,” Harry says, confusion marring his features at her sudden enthusiasm. 

Harry first met Charu at one of their crochet club sessions, eager to make a friend (other than Niall, of course) at the university. Through late-afternoon crocheting sessions and spirited conversations, they quickly bonded over very vital binge watching sessions of Modern Family, and Conan Gray listening parties. It was when Harry had randomly mentioned during one of their conversations that he worked at a bakery back home, that she asked him if he was interested in a baking gig. Exchanging recipes and bantering over baking techniques once he’d joined Marie’s only strengthened their bond as though they’d known each other for years.  

“Harry, did it ever cross your mind that he might be trying to win you back? I mean, think about it,” she says conspiringly, “first off, it’s Valentine’s day, Har, like, do I even need to explain? He asks you out on a Valentine’s day contest-”

“He didn’t ask me out,” Harry corrects. 

“Oh hush you. He absolutely did.  And you know what backs up that theory? The fact that he asked you out for old times sake… Do you not find it obvious? He’s doing it cuz he wants to take you through the memory lane of your relationship,” she sighs dreamily, “He’s trying to bring up memories you’ve shared together, how sweet, ” she coos. “You’re living in a real time rom-com, dear friend.”

“What?” Harry asks, sounding even more confused than he previously was. “I’m pretty sure this is his way of asking me for closure Char, we’ve been through this,” he furiously sips on his dragon fruit smoothie. What was she on, honestly? Her words were doing nothing to diminish the spark of hope growing into a steadfast flame in him. 

Which was a problem. 

Which is a problem. It still is. 

“Niall says you’re doing this for cock,” she side eyes him, stirring the straw into her cup, “Any truth to that?”

Harry scoffs affronted, despite a tiny voice inside asking him the same question. “Well, Niall can go fuck himself. S’Bullshit.” 

Their conversation dies down for a while, the duo lost in their own thoughts as they walk down the street. Rows of eastern redbud stand beside each other, branches twirling into each other, deep magenta blossoms in full bloom, heart-shaped petals vibrant with life. Despite its bold palette, the flora provides Harry a sense of calm only nature can provide its spectators. 

“I think…” Charu starts, a contemplative look on her face, “I think you aren’t able to accept the possibility of that being true,” she says, softly adding, “and that’s…yeah I think it’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Harry chuckles dryly. “ Of course it’s bothering me and I don’t want it to be a possibility jesus ,” he shakes his head. “Makes things so much more complicated than they already are.”

“Does it, really? Given that we’re here cause you’re agreeing to go with him for it,” she gestures wordlessly at the cream coloured villa with wide standing pillars on either side, the platinum-tinged greek letters staring back at them almost mockingly. 

It was one of those afternoons, the last time he was here. The ones that settled in uncomfortably with the anticipation of something about to alter permanently. The ones that brought uneasy shivers at the slightest of touches, curt nods at mundane words, turned gazes at wordless questions;

 A silence of finality. 

Hope sipped away as dusk did into midnight.

“It does,” he finally answers, “it does because right now, I'm not going into this expecting us to patch up because I’m gonna try, Charu. I’m gonna try to make the atmosphere between us civil again, yeah? But that’s the only thing I’m gonna try between us. Nothing else.” 

“Okay.”

“ Charu ,” Harry warns. 

“Okay!” She stresses, “Har, I mean it. I’m okay with anything you decide bub,” she says, offering him her hand before she places a finger on the door bell, ready to ring, “even if it means what I said,” she squeezes his palm.

He squeezes back. “Alright, yeah.” 

“You ready, H?” 

A nod. “Yeah,” 

The door opens with a click and Harry’s heart is in his throat. 

 Before he knows it, he’s been engulfed in a sweaty, tight-gripped hug.

“Harry! Long time no see bro! Nice to see you again man, what a surprise!” Brian muffles into his shoulder, and it takes a second before Harry can reciprocate, his brain completely failing to catch up with what was happening. He pulls back only to drag him by his arm inside the house.

It still looks the same , he observes, which he admits is an absurd observation to make because why on bloody earth would it change in a month, but he can’t help but expect something to have.

Because you missed it here , his subconscious (he thinks?) answers, but he’s too tired to make out of it any meaning. 

“C’mon dude, come take a seat. Want somethin’ to drink? Beer? A shake?” Brian asks, his expression genuine, and Harry is touched, honestly. He didn’t expect the members of the frat to have the same attitude towards him that they had before him and Louis had…broken up, but turns out he could be wrong. 

Brian Jones, Hartfort’s best running-back, was renowned for his uncompromising style. And while easily intimidating and feared on the field, Brian, in reality, was the human embodiment of a golden retriever, ever enthusiastic and ready for a good laugh. 

“M’sorted mate. Thanks though,” Harry nods, raising his half empty smoothie cup. 

“Hey Char, didn’t see you there!  how ya doin?” he waves at her, Charu waving back. 

“Hey Bri, M’fine myself. Gonna go and start working on econ papers with Ryan. Catch you later?” she asks, grabbing her tote bag from Harry. 

“Oh yeah for sure, for sure! Ryans sweating his balls out over this paper, ya know?” he asks, looking a tad concerned.

“Oh trust me when I say all of us are. Got finals coming up the week after. You know how it is,” she leans up to whisper to Harry. “You’ve got this, yeah? Have fun bubba!” she says, placing a smacky kiss onto his cheek knowing how it annoys him. “Bye Harr, Bye Bri!” she says, quickly making her way up the twisted stairs.

“Bye twat,” Harry groans, wiping the transparent chapstick off of his cheek. 

“Bye Charu!” Brian says back, turning to look at Harry. “Alright bro, I’ve gotta leave to the gym now. Louis might be in his room? or with Zayn I don’t really know cuz I’m in a hurry.”

“Oh um,” Harry blushes, “Uh it’s no worry I was actually-”

“But it’s really good that you’ve both decided to give it another go, bro. Lou was a mess on field the whole week y’all had called it off. Coach was mad pissed at him and had an actual talk and stuff, cuz the charity is in a week right? It was a whole scene,” he shudders, actually shudders , and Harry’s heart sinks to his stomach at that. 

Jesus fuck . 

“Yeah. Anyways, Trevor was askin me if you were still up to teach him how to crochet that strawberry hat? He’s still dead set on giftin it to his girlfriend on Valentines.”

Despite the shock at the initial revelation, he can’t help but smile at Brian’s change of subject. “Course, yeah. I can teach-”

“Harry?” A raspy voice inquires, tone eager, and he feels the familiar warmth that he does every time he hears that honey-like voice gracing his ears. 

He turns. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off a good amount of his tanned skin, paring it with baggy joggers.

“Hey,” Harry breathes. 

He’s the most beautiful person Harry has ever seen.

“Hey Harry,” Louis smiles, crinkles by his eyes showing.

“Alright you both. I’ve gotta hit the gym, but I’m so happy for y’all! Catch ya later.”

Louis quirks a brow at him, a confused smile on his face as he points a thumb at the door, “What was that all about?”

“Oh, um…” he shrugs, swallowing dryly. “He um, he thinks we’re back together-” 

“Right,” Louis cuts him off sharply, jaw clenching when he stares at the ceiling, diverting his gaze away from Harry’s. 

Harry scoffs, ignoring the lick of heat in his belly. “S’not like I said anything, Louis. He just assumed that I was here because of that. Don’t shit your pants.” 

Louis sends him a glare. “I didn’t say that, H. stop putting words in me mouth.”

“Well it was implied from your very calm reaction, Louis,” he snaps, and Louis has the decency to look at least a bit sorry at that. Harry sighs. “Look, I came here ‘cause of your offer the other day. I’ve thought about it…” he drawls, “and I’m okay with it.” 

“But?” Louis asks, and dammit, why did he have to know him so well? 

“But, I’d like to put our compatibility skills to a test before we sign up.” 

Louis bites down on a smile, taking a step towards him. “And that would mean?” 

“That would mean we've gotta bake something together to see if we’ve still got it. And my decision one hundred percent relies on its outcomes,” he shrugs.

“M’okay with it,” Louis rubs at his chin, “But um, why’s this necessary, H? We already know that we’re good at this, yeah? Then…why do you want to?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, shuffling towards the kitchen pathway. Surprisingly, the kitchen is one of his favourite places in the frat; despite the reputation of frat kitchens for being unkempt and chaotic. The kitchen had an air of familiarity that he found comfort in. Maybe it was the fact that it was actually well maintained. 

Or maybe it was the bright yellow kitchen cabinets with intricate carvings that echoed the warmth of early morning breakfasts with his mum back home at Cheshire. 

Smiling, he traces a finger over the daisy shaped carvings bordering beautifully around the cabinets. “You coming?” he asks. When there’s no answer, he looks over his shoulder to see Louis staring back at him with his lips slightly parted in surprise, like he can’t believe he’s actually here, cerulean eyes carrying the gaze of longing that strikes an arrow through Harry’s weak, weak heart. 

So weak for him. 

Blinking three times in succession, and willing for his voice not to pathetically crack, he clears his throat. “Louis William,” he starts, faux annoyance lacing his tone, “are you going to get here and bake some good fucking cookies with me, or are you gonna keep drooling over my arse from there?” 

Neither expecting the tone, nor the words, Louis’ eyes go wide before throwing his head back in laughter that Harry knows tends to leave him breathless. 

“You do talk some shit, Harold.”

✩⡱

“Do we really need to add dried cherries to the batter, H? Really? It tastes so much better without it,” Louis pouts, eyes furrowed in focus as he beats the butter, brown and white sugar together into a smooth batter with an old hand mixer. 

Harry god to honest has to fight the smile threatening to break through the stern look he was trying to put on. “Louis. It’s cherry chocolate chip cookies. What else do you think we’d add into it?” he cracks an egg, quickly adding it into the batter. 

“Uhh,” he pokes his tongue out, adding a tablespoon of vanilla to the mixture, “I dunno, like, cherry juice? Or food colouring? I don’t like cherries, love. They’ve got a very strong flavour and it ruins the taste of the cookie, in my opinion.” 

Love.

“It very much sounds like a you problem, Louis,” he sing songs. 

Comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere like a silk sheet, Harry and Louis working in unison without the need for unnecessary conversation, just as they have always done. As he sits with his thoughts in the quiet moments that follow, he feels silly for ever doubting that they wouldn’t work well together. 

In this context, at least.

Baking together had been a source of contention between the two since the beginning—it taking them only one date to get to the level of understanding that they are at now —and he’ll forever be at awe of how they’ve always been so perf–

Oh no. Oh no.

He was getting far ahead of himself.

“So?” Louis asks, nonchalantly.

“Uh, so?” Harry repeats absentmindedly, as he hastily scoops the dough and places it onto parchment paper.

“There’s this book about murdering food, did you know?” 

“What?” Harry asks, confused. 

“It has a separate chapter that deals with crime faced by cookie dough before one bakes ‘em.” 

He scoffs.“What do you even mean-”

“As an avid watcher and occasional reader of true crime I can’t help but bring this up- ”

“ Louis! ” Harry says irately. 

“Alright fierce feline, alright,” he laughs, Harry shooting him an annoyed glare. “Why are you scooping the life out of the dough, darling? Place ‘em gently. You’ve told me to do so. Here, gimme it,” he says, gently prying the scoop away from his hands, carefully scooping some dough from the steel bowl and places it over the parchment paper. He then hands the bowl to Harry, urging him to do the same, and so he does that for the remnant cookie dough, placing it in perfect dollops across the tray. 

“There you go,” Louis says softly, his lips curled in a delicate smile, “Gentle.”

It crashes onto him like a powerful wave how gentle Louis is as a person. With sweet words at the tip of his tongue so easily, raspy voice so nectarous, generous heart ready to do anything for the person he loves, doe eyes reflecting only the truest emotions, and feather fringe he brushes away excessively when he’s nervous…

He’s so gentle . 

Harry is defenceless. 

Harry is not going to survive this. 

“I’ll place the tray inside the oven?” Louis asks, and Harry nods in confirmation.

“Wear those gloves on Louis, the oven is preheated,” he reminds, and Louis shoots him a thumbs up, wearing the gloves on and then placing the tray into the oven. 

“Oh, and timer at 15 minutes, don’t forget that!” he adds. 

“Alright,” he says, setting it accordingly. “That’s that,” Louis says, pulling the gloves out and setting it on the counter. “Now Harry, if you hypothetically decide to sign up with me after you deem our baking compatibility well after us hypothetically finishing our test,” Louis says, appearing dead serious, only a mischievous glint in his eyes giving him away. 

“I’m listening,” Harry hums, folding his arms across his chest. There’s something so infectious about Louis’ radiant energy that gives Harry a hard time when he tries to appear serious, the deepening of his dimple always being an easy give away as to how he actually feels. 

Louis fidlies with the edge of his tank top, another nervous tick of his. “Obviously if we decide to participate, we’ve gotta join as a pair,” Louis chuckles nervously. 

“It’s a Valentine’s day competition, Louis. Why would I assume it’s for platonic best pals..?” 

SHOULDERS SIDEWAYS, SMACK IT, SMACK IT IN THE AIR, LEGS MOVIN' SIDE TO SIDE, SMACK IT IN THE AIR

Harry yelps at the sudden blasting music, placing a palm on his chest to help calm his frantically beating heart, “Jesus fucking christ!” 

LEGS MOVIN' SIDE TO SIDE, SMACK YOU IN THE AIR, SHOULDERS SIDEWAYS, SMACK IT, SMACK IT IN THE AIR

Louis scrubs a palm down his face, “Christ,” he mutters, “Must be Ryle’s mornin’ ritual.” 

“S’literally twelve in the afternoon…”

SMACK IT, SMACK IT IN THE AIR, LEGS MOVIN' SIDE TO SIDE, SMACK IT, SMACK IT IN THE AIR, SMACK IT, SMACK IT IN THE AIR

“I know. But today’s a day off, and… you know how the guys tend to get. Ryle’s started connecting his alarm to his bluetooth speakers so he has the same energy as his alarm when he wakes up. Don’t ask me why,” Louis raises his hands up right as Harry opens his mouth to ask him the question.

WAVE YOUR HANDS SIDE TO SIDE, PUT IT IN THE AIR, WAVE YOUR HANDS SIDE TO SIDE, PUT IT IN THE AIR

Louis groans. “Ryle! If you don’t turn the volume down now bro I swear I’m gonna make you fucking run a minimum of 15 tomorrow,” he threatens. 

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP LIKE YOU DON'T CARE, SMACK THAT, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP LIKE YOU DON'T CARE I KNOW YOU CARE! 

Harry can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation, a peal of laughter exiting his lips when he looks at Louis who absolutely looked like an angry hedgehog 

“Ah so funny Harry, ha ha ha,” Louis deadpans. 

Harry absolutely loses it at his stony expression, eyes screwing shut as he hoots with laughter, shoulders shaking and face flushing red. 

“Louis Tomlinson, part-time football player, full-time angry hedgehog.”  

“Will you shut up,” he hears Louis groan, and he can swear there's fondness lacing his words. 

Thankfully the alarm stops ringing after that, Louis letting out a sigh of relief as he leans on the kitchen counter, arms situated on either side to support his posture. “Now back to our discussion. It’s mandatory for the participants to be a couple. Cause it’s-”

“A Valentine’s day competition, yes Louis. Believe it or not, but I do in fact know what to expect from a Valentine’s day competition.”

“Okay good that we’ve got that cleared. You’re chill with that? Like signing up as a couple?” he asks hesitantly, and No, Harry’s not chill with it. It makes him want to jump off a cliff and bite all of his nails off simultaneously. Because they’re not a couple. And it hurts . It hurts more than it should that they’re not.

“Yeah I’m chill,” Harry shrugs. 

“Are you sure though-”

“Next case point, Lou.” 

Louis observes him carefully for at least ten seconds, before he nods his head. “Alright. Now the important part. If we’re hypothetically participating.” 

“Is this about the finances we might procure if we hypothetically win, dearest?” 

“You know me so well darling,” Louis says, all saccharine-sweet. And Harry knows this is supposed to be stupid banter, this is supposed to all for show in between them. He knows. 

That doesn’t stop his tummy from doing a flip every time he hears Louis call him darling. It doesn’t stop him from thinking about the thousand different ways in which he’s called him that, the different moments he’s called him that. 

Being Louis Tomlinson’s ex is a hard thing, Harry notes. No pun intended.

“Did I hear someone talk finances ?” a voice excitedly inquires. 

“Char!” Louis exclaims, a warm smile on his face. “I didn’t know you were here today. How’re you doing, love?” he asks, wrapping her in a hearty embrace. 

Even before Harry and Louis had started dating officially, Charu had always been convinced that they were meant for each other. She had always been able to see the spark between them, even when they hadn’t yet realised it themselves. During their awkward “courting” period, Charu would often play matchmaker, finding ways for Harry and Louis to be in each other’s presence without them realising she was doing it. 

Essentially, Charu was their self-proclaimed cupid.

“Harry you traitor, not even an honorary mention huh?” she pulls away from his embrace, lifting an eyebrow at Harry. “I’m doing good Lou! Econ classes have really been doing a number on me though, I swear.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” he sympathises.  

“What are y’all making?” walks towards the oven, framing her hands around her face to get a better look at what’s baking inside the oven. “Mmm, smells delicious. Cherry and-?”

“Chocolate, our lord and saviour,” Harry supplies. 

“Amen to that bub,” she says. “Anyways, about finances…” she looks at them expectantly. 

“Right to the point I see,” Louis chuckles. “As you’re already aware of, I’m assuming, Harry and I are about to participate in a competition, right? So if we possibly win, we get some cash as prize money.”

“Ah! Okay I’m in charge of the money split up.”

Harry bites down a smile at his best friend’s enthusiasm. “Go on then.”

“According to my calculations, I highly recommend the money split up to be 30-70. 30 for Louis cuz he’s a rich motherfucker, and 70 for Harry cuz he’ll share it with us broke folk, his trusty friends.”

“ This is why you’re my best friend,” Harry high-fives her. 

“I know bub, I know.” 

Louis frowns. “Just interfering to say this isn’t a fair deal.” 

“It seems plenty fair to me,” Harry shrugs. “Seeing that I’m gonna be sharing it with two other people.” 

“Really?” Louis asks skeptically. “You’re actually gonna share it with them?”

“And if I do?” Harry challenges. 

“Then I’ll have to agree,” Louis complies, a smile slowly gracing his face, “But to a 25-75 deal. That way all of us get 25%.”

Never has the prospect of money turned Harry on. 

But something about Louis discussing percentages sends a thrum of desire through his veins. 

Oh god, oh god this was already working against him. This fuck all idea . 

“Oh my god, you’re the best! Niall’s gonna flip when he knows we’re gonna get rich!” Charu squeals. “You both better win it.” 

The timer on the oven beeps, and Harry goes to remove the tray of steaming cookies. He has to smack both Louis’ and Charu’s hands away when they try to pick a cookie out of the tray, urging them to wait for at least ten minutes to let them cool down. He’s quite satisfied with how the cookies have turned out once he’s able to taste it. Perfectly crispy at the edges and gooey in the centre. 

“They’re so fucking good god ,” Louis says, wiping the crumbs off of his lips. 

Harry can’t help but agree. “Amazing really.”

“You know what you both should do?” Charu asks through bites of her cookies, “Have proper practice sessions. Like, think about it. You both can actually win it with how well you both work together.”

Harry has to refrain from side-eyeing her, because he knows exactly what she’s trying to do.

Louis contemplates over a few bites of his cookie, then easily agrees. “You make sense, yeah. What do you think, H? We could practise maybe two or three more times before the competition on tuesday? If you don’t have anything lined up, of course. I know that the newsletter’s got a new issue coming up, plus the bakery, oh! Wait, won’t the bakery be busy on valentines, H? How are you gonna manage? Will you be able to?” he rambles, concern written across his face.

Harry’s smile is reassuring. “Don’t worry, Louis. The newsletter isn’t due until late this month. And Pierre is hiring professional bakers for valentines this year ‘cause of the demand last time. I’m off on valentines day actually.”

“Oh that’s cool then.”

“Don’t you have practice matches for the charity match in a week?” Harry asks, calculating how Louis might have time to spare. “They go overtime, right?”

“Uh yeah, sometimes practice goes overtime. But I can manage for sure. There’s no issue with that.”

“There’s only one thing left for you both to do,” Charu chimes in. She rolls her eyes when both of them stare at her with confusion. “Oof, shake hands on it, twats!”

Louis chuckles, a smug smile on his face when he extends a hand out to Harry. 

“Up for it, then?”

He slides his palm into Louis’, gripping their hands in confirmation.

“Up for it.”

✩⡱

It’s their second session, and Louis is making him giggle with way too many baking puns when Charu barges in. 

“Louis Tomlinson, that was the most atrocious pun I’d ever heard,” he gasps out through bouts of laughter. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harold,” Louis says, smiling so hard his left dimple is visible, “I just asked if you kneed a hand with that ‘cause it’s a real piece of cake for me to do.” 

“Oh god,” he groans. 

“You don’t think I’m a weirdough now, do you?” Louis frowns.

And Harry loses it at that once again, eyes screwing shut and head thrown back in silent laughter, breath gone from his lungs.

“ Harold ,” Louis utters pitifully at the state of him, gently dragging a palm up and down his back, “you need to breathe, angel. Your face is practically blue, love.”

“ Can’t ,” Harry wheezes out, willing himself to ignore the term of endearments, easily rolling out Louis’ tongue as his body still shakes with laughter. He doesn’t know if it's Louis’ timing or perfect delivery that makes even the most stupid jokes an epic one if he’s the one who says it. 

“ Oh , Harry,” Louis shakes his head, not knowing whether to laugh or sympathise at Harry’s state. 

“I’ve come bearing gifts!” Charu barges into the bakery, pausing when she sees the way Louis was calming him down.

“What happened?” she gasps, dropping the bag down as she rushes to Harry. “Is Har okay?”

“Charu, babe, I can swear on all of earth that it’s only Harold that laughs so hard at me jokes that his face turns fuckin blue, poor thing,” he coos, stroking his shoulder delicately.

Once he manages to catch his breath, he greets his worried friend. “H-hey Char,” he waves at her, “Whatcha doing here?”

“What are you both doing here?” she raises an eyebrow, hands on her hips as she suspiciously eyes either of them. 

Harry is an easy target whenever you need the truth, and so Charu keeps her gaze fixated on him until he tells her. 

“Nothing Char, you know s’a practice session,” Harry shrugs. 

“That has you gasping with your ex around?” 

“Mhm.”

She narrows his eyes at him, urging him to come out with it, but soon realises that he won’t cave. “Whatever,” she mutters, a smug smile on her lips. “Anyways, I come bearing your presents!”

“I love presents!” Louis says back enthusiastically, striding towards her. “What have you got us?”

She lifts an eyebrow up at him curiously, “But it was you-”

“Show me, I’m impatient!” He cuts her off. 

Harry peers over to see where she was digging into her tote, pulling out two copper-sulphate-blue coloured shirts. Harry looks over at Louis, a confused glance at the reveal. 

“These are matching shirts! For your competition,” she explains, turning the shirt around to give them a proper look. 

On one of the shirts, the words ‘you’re my’ were written atop the graphic of a piece of toast. And on the other one, the words, ‘butter half’ were splayed across the graphic of a melting cube of butter. 

Louis’ lips twitch when he looks at Harry’s wide-mouthed expression.

“Keep it closed, love. Don’t want any flies occupying a residence in your mouth now do we?” 

“Shut up!” Harry says, shaking out of his state. “These are adorable , Char! I love them!” 

“Well,” she smiles, looking at Louis, “You should thank–”

“The universe! For bringing upon us mere mortals such wonderful puns,” Louis completes, discreetly shaking his head at Charu, who shoots him a confused look. It finally seems to hit her, what he was trying to do, when she nods back, and turns to face Harry. 

“Yes, we definitely should be thankful to the universe.” 

✩⡱

It only escalates from there.

 They do somehow find time to fit in another baking session in between their packed schedule, this one at the bakery once again, so they can make use of the specialised equipment. Throughout the duration of the past two sessions however, there’s one thing that remains a constant: 

Louis making him laugh. 

He does it so effortlessly, so easily, that Harry has to wonder if it’s Louis attempting to pull a few giggles from him, or if it’s Harry who is so enchanted by his charm that anything he says makes him giggle and blush like a schoolgirl crush.

Louis with his stupid puns, he swears to god. 

“Okay, so put it in,” Louis  instructs, carefully observing the way Harry filled the jam into the doughnuts they had fried together at the bakery. It was Thursday, their third session, and half past ten. And since Louis had another practice session and Harry had to meet his story sources, they’d decided to bake after closing hours at the bakery.

“Mhm, yeah, I do know this you know,” Harry replies, piping a generous amount of raspberry jam into the doughnut. 

“And then,” Louis continues, a dirty smirk spreading across his face before he says, “take it out slowly .”

“I am, Lou. What do you…” Harry trails off confusedly, when he looks at Louis’ smug face, and the words make sense to him.

Louis snorts. “Finally hit ya,” he winks. 

He rolls his eyes, left dimple deepening nevertheless. “Get back to work, fella.” 

“Ohhh, you want me to get back to work , huh?” he smirks, and Harry knows that tone, he knows it all too well for him not to groan at what was to come. 

“ Don’t, ” he warns. 

“That’s what she said!”

He groans in defeat. “S’getting boring now, Louis. You can do better.”

Louis sighs sadly, before adding, “That’s what she said, darling.” 

A laugh escapes Harry’s lips, but he quickly disguises it as a cough, hiding his smile behind a closed fist as though it’d mend the embarrassing giggle he already let out. 

“ Right, ” Louis grins, sounding pleased, too pleased, “I totally didn’t hear the squeaky little sound some random stranger made, that you definitely did not.”

“Are you trying to flirt with your ex, Tomlinson?” 

“Trying? Pfft,” Louis scoffs, taking a step closer, “I don’t know, you tell me, sugar. Is it working?” He wiggles an eyebrow exaggeratedly at him. 

“Ew. Don’t ever call me sugar,” Harry shudders. “Reminds me of my grandma who used to call me that.” 

“Ah, fierce feline back in full mode I see.” 

“I recommend that you be careful, Tomlinson,” Harry dares to take a step forward, “Felines tend to have sharp nails. I suggest you abide by their rules and do what they say instead,” Harry counters.

Louis scoffs. “You say that as if I’m scared of a few scratches down my back, sweetheart. Been there, done that.” 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

“Shut up,” Harry mutters, a blush crawling up his face, ears burning with Louis’ implication. “Stop being mean, and m’not your sweetheart. Get your ass to check on the fucking doughnuts, now,” he says, and practically pushes Louis away from him to the work station. 

“Yes sir,” Louis salutes. 

“Anyways,” Harry changes the subject, willing for his flushed face to eventually turn normal, “how has practice been?” He asks, genuinely curious to know. “The charity match is on the 20th, right? How’s all of the preparation?”

Louis shoots him a smile, as he gently dusts icing sugar over the filled doughnuts, “It’s been pretty good. I’ve been giving the boys a bit of a hard time with all of the regular training sessions. But coach approves,” he rubs at his neck bashfully, cheeks colouring, “It’s the first charity match I’m heading right? I mean, of course it’s not like I’m the one who’s doing all of the work here. The boys are the backbone of the team. Without them, there's nothing. At all.”

“But you’re the captain, and it puts a bit of extra pressure on you,” Harry completes, turning to face him.

“Exactly,” Louis says, keeping aside the strainer, “But m’not gonna lie, it's been very different from our previous sessions. I’ve been trying to spend some time for myself, and go a bit easy with the practice schedules. So I discussed our schedules with coach. He also agreed that we all needed some down time so we can spend it, like, however we want to. M’listening to some new music, and oh! I also started a new book, I think you’ve already read it. It's a gay one, obviously and has a historic setting too, in Ancient Greece? Yeah, yeah, Ancient Greece if I'm not wrong.” 

“The song of Achilles?” Harry supplies. 

Louis snaps his fingers, “That one!” 

Harry’s heart beat starts picking up at that, something akin to pride and hope blooming in his chest, “Really, Lou?” he asks, eyes shimmering with genuine happiness.

“Yeah, H,” Louis smiles, “the past few weeks with, you know,” he gestures at the air, Harry instantly understanding that he’s referring to their break up, “has put a lot of stuff that I’ve been doing into perspective,” he looks up at harry, a glint of hope in his gaze, “a few choices ive made, specifically. And I'm trying my best to work with what I’ve done, one by one. One step at a time, right?”

“Louis,” Harry smiles so wide, his dimples hurt, “Can I just say, I’m so proud of you for that? That’s amazing, love. So glad you're taking time out for yourself, Lou. It’s so important. And I'll be there at the match, yeah? Cheering the loudest for you.”

“You will?” Louis asks, doe-eyed and wide grinned. 

“Of course I will,” he says truthfully.

“Harry,” Louis whispers, engulfing him in his tight embrace, Harry hugging him back with no hesitation. “Thank you so much for saying that. Means so much to me, coming from you.” 

At that moment, the emotion that takes over him is as fierce as a ferocious forest fire, ready to consume anything that comes its way. 

“Always, Lou.” 

It might burn him down, reduce him into ashes. 

He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

✩⡱

It snaps loose on Saturday. 

Saturdays, for Harry at least, usually meant sleeping in as much as he can, working on his assignments alongside Niall and Charu, watching some shitty reality show rerun on TV. If they were lucky, it also meant drinking some not-so-cheap alcohol Niall brought them, thanks to his uncle who worked in airlines. 

Saturdays brought him the comfort of familiarity. 

This one brings him the familiarity of Louis’ touch. 

“ Louis , shit,” Harry reverently grasps at the material of Louis’ sports shirt, pulling him by his hips between his thighs where he’s sat atop the kitchen counter. 

Louis simply chuckles against his lips, “Easy, babe,” he runs his palms up Harry’s chest, thumbs circling over his clothed nipples readily hardening under his touch. Harry shudders under his ministrations, fitting his head between the junction of Louis’ shoulder and neck. He noses up his neck, the smell of fresh sweat assaulting his senses and urges him to lick a trail up the same path. 

“Christ, Louis. Your gear is gonna be the death of me.”

“Fuckin’ knew this’d rile you up,” Louis groans against his nape, leaving a gentle trail of kisses up the column of Harry’s neck. “Always knew you had a thing for me football gear,” he moans when he feels the sharpness of Harry nipping at his earlobe, a breathy chuckle exiting his lips at Harry’s eagerness. “Can’t resist me in it, can you?”

Harry can’t. That’s why when Louis had promptly shown up in his gear fresh out of practice – other frat members out at the sorority party right after the match – to have one last baking session before the competition, Harry tried to build his resistance up.

He tried his best, believe him.

But Louis knew exactly what he was doing, offering to help him out without changing his gear. 

It lasted a whole three minutes of preparing caramel, before it broke. 

“I can’t,” Harry murmurs, biting down on Louis’ lower lip, “You know I can’t.” 

Louis tugs him by his hair, sharp eyes scanning over Harry. “What do you want, baby?”

Baby

“Want your mouth,” Harry answers with no hesitation. 

“You can have it baby,” he whispers, placing a searing kiss against his cheek, “where d’you want it?” 

“You know where,” Harry challenges.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Get down the counter, then.” 

Harry swears he’s never moved faster in life sliding down the counter, legs wobbly beneath him, head dizzy with anticipation. 

“Easy there,” Louis reminds, gripping him by the shoulders in an effort to steady him.  “Always got those bambi legs,” he tuts, a touch fond, eyes soft on Harry when he leaves a kiss to his nose.  “Turn around for me, baby.” 

Harry positions himself against the counter, resting his forearms on either side when he wiggles his arse against Louis to clue him in on what he wants. 

“Someones eager,” Louis snorts, “go on, then,” he says, his firm grip now against the small of Harry’s back, urging him wordlessly to lean over the counter. He eagerly complies, resting his head over his folded arms, hot breath fanning over his own skin. 

“Do you remember your safe word, sweetheart?” Louis asks, reminding him that he can use it at any given moment.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s papaya. S’papaya,” he slurs out. “Lou, need you,” Harry sighs, a shiver running up his whole body when he feels Louis trail his fingers up the back of Harry’s thighs, kneeling behind him. 

“Yeah? You need me huh?” He slowly manoeuvres Harry out of his jeans and boxers, his leaking cock springing free against his toned body, as Louis kisses at every exposed expanse of his flushed skin as he does so, stroking at his hips. “How much?” 

“ So much,” Harry breathes out, every touch of Louis’s lips against his skin, the scratch of his slight stubble up his thighs, too much for him to take. “Louis please, ” he begs, “don’t tease. M’being good.” 

He feels the sharp sting of Louis’ slap across his arse before he can register it, precum spurting out his cock at the impact. “Oh fuck,” Harry feels him slap against the irritated skin again, his hips thrusting into the air trying to chase into something. 

“That’s for me to decide. Got it?” Louis asks gruffly, caressing over his reddened arse in a careful manner. “I’m the one who gets to decide if you’re good or not, aren’t I?” 

Tears were threatening to spill from Harry’s eyes at Louis’ insistent teasing, a single word clouding his thoughts:

“ Please, ”

“Letting me bend you over the kitchen counter darling,” Louis awes, placing a lingering kiss to his left arse cheek, biting right above where his lips had been. “How sweet of you,” he murmurs into his warm skin, sliding his palms up to his hips, pressing and kneading above the two laurels the way it makes Harry go utterly pliant under his touch.

“Love this so much,” Harry mindlessly blubbers into his forearm, a cry of relief exiting his mouth when he feels Louis grip apart his arse cheeks, kneading at the already irritated skin which does nothing to deduce the arousal steadily thrumming in his veins. 

“I know you love this, sweetheart,” he whispers before he flicks his tongue against Harry’s quivering rim, moaning at the heady scent of his musk when he messily buries his face against him. He swirls his tongue over his puckered hole torturously slow, making Harry’s toes curl into his socks. Deciding that he’s gone through enough teasing, Louis slowly eases his tongue into his rim, prodding him open as he alternates between licking slow, deliberate stripes over his fluttering hole, and sloppily fucking his tongue into him.

“What are we gonna do if someone walks in on us baby? Hmm? Maybe one of the boys come back early from the party?” Louis pulls back, leaving a kiss over his reddened hole, “Bet you wouldn’t want me to stop.” 

“I wouldn’t,” Harry confirms, feeling his flushed cheek burning as he rests it against the cool granite counter.

“You’d love that, won’t you?” He smirks against his skin, rubbing his scruff against his sensitive area, nosing the cleft of his arse as he leaves deceivingly delicate kisses, lips grazing Harry’s lower spine as he speaks. “You’d love for them to see you all spread out f’me yeah? For them to know you’re all mine,” he backhands his left cheek, apologetically kissing over the expanse of the reddened part after.

“Yeah,” Harry sobs out, “want that so much. Want you to fuck me so much.” 

Louis slowly eases a finger inside where he was licking him out, curling into him, “Oh you want me to fuck you?”

“Please, Louis, I-I can’t I’ve-” 

“Shh, alright baby. Anything you want, i’ll give it to you, yeah?” he eases another finger into him, pumping it slowly alongside the first, placing a featherlight kiss against Harry’s hip. He pulls his finger outside of Harry, shushing him gently when he hears a string of disapproving whines. “Hush, sweetie. I’m only going to bring us some lube.”

“Olive oil. You’ve got–” Harry hurriedly points at one of the cabinets on the side, “you’ve got it in there.”

“Harry,” Louis hesitates, “I’ll just go bring-”

“Olive oil is fine!” Harry says desperately, peering at him over his shoulder, shooting him his doe-eyed look sure to get Louis to do anything for him. “No need to go all broke-uni-student on me. I’m sure you can afford to buy another one with your abundant riches, Louis. Now get to fucking me.”

“Harry!” Louis says surprised, laughter bubbling out of his chest, eyes screwing shut as he throws his head back. “Oh my god, H, your fierce feline is simply shining in all its glory huh?”

“My fierce feline will take business into its own hands if you don’t, mister,” Harry challenges. 

“You wouldn’t,” Louis’ eyes cut sharp. 

Harry simply runs a finger up his straining rock hard cock, swirling it over his tip and gathering some of the wetness. He then extends it towards Louis’ parted mouth, messily coating it over his lips. “Believe me, I will.” 

From there it’s all a blur, Louis quickly fetching the olive oil with no protests as he shimmies down his football shorts and lifts his shirt up, throwing it away somewhere into the kitchen. Harry is too dazed with arousal to remove his own salmon silk shirt, and so Louis takes it into his own hands, unbuttoning it carefully because he knows Harry loves the shirt too much for him to get any come on it. Harry is completely useless at this point pouting his lips out for Louis to kiss, whining irately when he doesn’t. 

“So mean ,” Harry mutters, his lips still jutting out.

Louis seems to look up from where he’s unbuttoning his shirt, cooing when he sees Harry’s expression and leaves a hard kiss against his plush ones, eliciting a satisfied hum out of him. “Just tryna be careful with your shirt, angel. Know you really like this one.” 

He quickly coats his fingers with the oil, working in one, two, three fingers into his hole, a rough moan tearing out of his chest as Harry’s back arches beautifully under his ministrations, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks. 

“M’ready Louis, m’so ready for you, please,” Harry breathes out, burning with the lust filled gaze Louis looks at him with.  

“Okay, darling,” Louis complies, leaving a kiss to his burning cheek, nuzzling against the warmth. “Line me up?” he requests quietly. 

Utter bliss washes over Harry when he gets to touch Louis’ cock, and it only blooms when he aligns it against his hole, fluttering with need, when, 

“Harry, wait…”

“What,” he snaps annoyedly, but annoyance washes away when he sees Louis’ face rather too serious for the moment. “What is it, Lou?” he lets go of his cock, tilting him up by his chin to make him meet his gaze, expression open. “Everything okay, love?”

He looks at him swallow uncomfortably, averting his gaze when he asks, “H, do we need a condom?”

And that’s a million dollar question, isn’t it?

“Not for me,” Harry shakes his head. “I haven’t…I haven’t been with anyone else after…” he trails off. “Have you?” He hesitates, and he doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to feel the sharp pain of dejection if he says yes, the pain that’ll absolutely destroy him if he knows Louis casually slept around with someone only a month after they’d broken up. 

“No, love. Harry, hey,” Louis cups his jaw, probably sensing his spiral. “I haven’t slept with anyone else. I promise,” he reassures. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, and then fists Louis’ cock once again, giving it a few rough tugs before he aligns it against his rim. “Then fuck me like you mean it.”

Louis melts into him as he bottoms out in one smooth go, palms on either side of the counter, caging Harry inbetween. 

“God, Lou ,” Harry exhales, mouthing at the nape of his neck. He whispers over the wet skin, “Move for me, love.”

Louis groans as he languidly snaps his hips into him, relishing in the tight heat of his hole. He gradually picks up his speed, downright slamming his cock right against Harry’s prostate, doing it relentlessly to keep eliciting the pretty whines and breathy moans out of him. Harry knows that Louis gets off to the sounds he makes, and he doesn’t for a second need to amp it up, Louis’ cockhead slamming against his sweet spot already having him wrecked. 

“So close, Louis,” Harry whines, running his fingers frantically through Louis’ wild hair, tugging at it to capture him in a deep kiss. It’s so dirty , an uncoordinated clash of tongue and teeth and strings of saliva, but it fills all of the emptiness in Harry’s heart. 

“Gonna come,” he warns Louis, slamming a hand down on the counter for purchase, snaking it towards Louis’ own and gripping their fingers together, “want to touch myself,” he requests. 

“Go ahead, darling,” Louis replies breathily, hips pistoning restlessly as sweat glistens across his chest. “You can do anything you want, love, anything,” he brings up their intertwined fingers to Harry’s chest, resting it over there. He strokes over his cock furiously, curling his thumb at his cockhead, and lets go when he hears Louis whisper, “Come for me, H.” 

Waves of heat wash over him in ripples, Harry trembling with the force of his orgasm crashing over him. “Louis!” he bites down on his lower lip, tasting blood at the back of his mouth. He runs his hands all over the expanse of Louis’ back, wanting to feel him close in every way possible. Through the haze, he feels Louis shudder against him and can feel his come shooting into his hole. A pleased hum leaves Harry’ lips as he sags against Louis’ spent body, inhaling his hair as the distant smell of apples and sweat creeps up his senses. He’s sure what he’s experiencing at the moment is pure bliss, everything around him fitting in place, so safe. 

Harry loves this feeling, so clutter free and so crystal clear, only three words at the tip of his tongue:

I love you

It shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does, the primary reason being that of course he does, he always has loved him and he always will. Loving Louis doesn’t fade away just because they’d decided to break up. 

His heart still belongs to Louis, and he knows. 

But it shouldn’t. 

The reality of the situation weighs heavily on him. They’re not together anymore. They’d broken up only a month ago. 

He just slept with his ex.

He can’t breathe.

His eyes pop open, heart beating erratically and he can distinctly hear Louis murmuring sweet nothings against his chest. 

Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, 

As gently as he can manage, Harry pushes away Louis from where he’s against him, wincing when he feels his softened cock slip out of him. But that’s the least of his concerns when his hands run cold, and he can feel his pulse beating like a drum against neck.

He needs to get out of here. 

He can’t be in love with Louis.

“Harry?” Louis looks at him with a smile, confusion marring his features when he pushes him away again. “Lemme get the flannel love, I’ll-Harry what are you doing?” 

He manages to grab his jeans strewn down the floor, shaky hands making it difficult for him to slide it on easily, his movements clumsy. 

“Harry, wait-” 

With whatever remnant strength he has, he manages to button it up, and then he snatches the silky salmon-tinted material that he assumes is his shirt, panickedly shrugging it on and fastening only one button. 

“Harry, hey, you’re not breathing fine love, you’re shaking H, what’s wrong, babe?”

“I need to go,” Harry simply offers, shooting him an empty smile as he points towards the door, heart still beating out of his chest at his post orgasmic realisation. 

“But- Harry, wait!” He hears Louis yell for him, but he simply ignores all of his calls, slamming the door as he walks outside into the chilly moonless night, shutting out all of the sounds, all of the noises, all of the thoughts.

Shutting out Louis, leaving him alone. 

✩⡱

January, 2023 - let all your damage, damage me. 

Harry knows that either one of them has to do this eventually. 

Things haven’t been the greatest between them, the past months. Ever since late November, they’ve been walking on eggshells around each other. Both of them have been letting it get to this point, he knows that. It hurts him, every time Louis chooses to do something else, instead of spending time with him. He feels needy and it’s pathetic, because Louis is his boyfriend and asking to spend time with him feels like asking for some kind of special privilege and he hates it. And it’s not like he isn’t aware that Louis is the president of the frat and the captain of the football team. Of course he’d have responsibilities. So Harry doesn’t want to talk about it and make it into a big fucking deal. He doesn’t want them to argue and start hating each other so he never talks about it to Louis.

Neither is it purely Louis’ fault, nor is it his. 

He’s sitting at the restaurant, mindlessly stirring the metallic straw into his mojito. 

Louis was supposed to be here an hour and a half ago.

Harry’s just about to lose his patience and send him yet another text, when he sees Louis rush towards the table. “Sorry H,” Louis pants out, taking a seat across him as he catches his breath. “Did you already order anything, Harry?” he asks. 

“I have,” Harry gestures at his mojito, already half empty. 

“Yeah, well,” Louis rolls his eyes, “I was asking other than that.” 

It irritates him to the core that not only does Louis show up an hour and a half late, but also expects Harry to order for him, like he’s some petulant child. 

“So you show up late for our date, and you expect me to have ordered for you as well?” Harry asks, anger creeping up his voice. 

Louis frowns. “Harry no…I was asking if you’d ordered anything for yourself, love. Obviously I wouldn’t expect you to order for me. And as for the delay, I’m sorry I was really caught up with–”

“–practice, am I right?” Harry sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Louis, we…I think we really need some time apart, okay? You’re always busy with the frat and I don’t think we should want to just…be like this, you know?”

Louis scoffs. “It’s not like I’m going around partying with the way you talk about me being busy with the frat. You know the charity match is coming up in just a month and I've told you numerous times how stressed out I am for that. Don’t tell me you aren’t equally as occupied, Harry. You’ve also been held up with the bakery, with your classes, and the newsletter. M’not the only one at fault here, H. if that’s what you’re accusing me of. You always brush me off when I ask you about such stuff. Every time– ” 

“I’m never as busy as you are, Louis,” Harry cuts off, gut churning at the turn this conversation was taking. “And I try to make an effort, atleast.” 

“So that’s enough of a reason for you, Harry? To have us break up?” Louis asks in utter unbelief. “Of course I’ve sensed that I haven't been spending as much time, a-and I’m trying my best to make it okay, H. I’m trying to cut down on frat stuff a bit. But you just…” he trails off. 

“I don’t think this is worth arguing about, Louis. Both of us know we need some time apart,” Harry forces out, each and every word taste bitter in his mouth.

 “Harry,” Louis shakes his head in equal parts disapproval and unbelief, “We are supposed to be arguing for this, how else do you think couples solv–” he cuts himself off, and he suddenly looks so much more dejected than he did. He looks up at him, and for the first time Harry notices the baggage of everything weighing on him physically. His electric ocean blue eyes have dimmed thousandfold, dark circles rimmed around his tired eyes, the crease beside his lips that deepen with the curve of his smile not as visible anymore. 

Louis is tired. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding swiftly. “Yeah, maybe we do need some time apart.” 

Harry has to swallow down the sob threatening to break through at that. “Okay.” 

“I-...should I?” Louis stands up from the chair, wordlessly asking if he should leave. 

“Yeah.”

He bends down to leave a kiss onto Harry’s curls, inhaling the familiar scent of him one last time, before he whispers, “Take care darli– take care, Harry.” 

Once he leaves, Harry expects it to happen. He waits for the sigh of relief to wash over him, for the feeling of something heavy being lifted off of his shoulders, for an epiphany of new found freedom to surge through his veins.

It never comes.  

✩⡱

“It’s Louis,” Niall confirms, peering into the peephole, looking back at him concernedly. 

“M’not feeling it, Ni,” Harry burrows into his pillow and he tries to stop the tears readily burning behind his eyelids. It’s been a day after he outright ran after they’d slept together, and he isn’t ready to weigh the consequences of the decision he made so lethargically. 

“Bub,” Charu rakes her fingers gently through his hair, sitting beside him, “You need to talk to him, H. You can’t keep him in the dark, it’s not fair. He’s been blowing up mine and Niall’s phone with texts askin about you. He’s worried , Harry. Don’t do this to him.” 

“Harry please,” he hears Louis’ pleading voice call out from outside their dorm room, “talk to me, baby. Please tell me how you feel, Harry, we can talk this out, yeah? Trust me, H. I know we can. Just…just let me in, love.” 

It only makes him cry harder, body shaking with the sobs hiccuping out of him. “I can’t,” he gasps out, “Niall, please,” he whimpers. 

“Oh, Harry,” Niall mutters, shaking his head, taking in a deep breath before he says what he has to. “Lou,” he starts hesitantly, “he’s a mess…”

“Niall, I need to- I, I need to see him, please, Ni,” Louis pleads again, desperation evident in his tone. “Just once, I promise I won’t disturb you lot again.”

“I know you wanna talk, Tommo, and it’s perfectly reasonable. But Harry isn’t…he isn’t willing to, man. And I’m sorry but I can’t let you in now. He doesn’t want me to,” Niall rubs at his chin, “I'm powerless here, Lou,” he says, turning back to look at his friend hidden between the sheets, figure trembling with sobs. “Can’t make the call here now, can I?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Louis replies, voice smaller than he’s ever heard. “I’ll see myself out then,” he pauses, “I mean, I already am outside, but–”

Niall snorts, “Very eloquent wording there, Tommo.”

“Yeah yeah, Ni, m’getting my heartbroken again, lad, go easy on me,” he jokes sadly.

“Lou,” Niall sighs sympathetically.

“M’going, yeah?” he asks, once again just to see if Harry has changed his mind. 

He leaves. 

✩⡱

It happens again, the next day. 

There’s a knock on the door, and instantly Harry knows it’s him. 

“Harry,” Louis’ voice calls out, and that confirms it. 

Niall and Charu exchange knowing glances from where they’re working on their own course work, when Harry stands up from where he was sitting beside them to go and answer the door himself. 

“Louis,” Harry starts, his mind made up, “why are you here?” 

He hears Charu scoff, and mutter what he thinks to be “the audacity,” and Niall simply shushing her as a response. 

“I’m here to talk,” Louis replies, ever so patient. 

“I don’t want to,” Harry replies, ever so stubborn.

“Harry-” Louis takes a sharp breath, a startled chuckle, “Okay. Let me put it like this instead. We need to talk.” 

“What we need, Louis, is to maybe not talk to each other for a while. Quite the opposite.” 

A crazed chuckle escapes Louis’ mouth, his unbelief evident. “Harry! Are you fucking daft, lad? Really, are you hearing yourself? You fucking left Harry! You left without saying a bloody fucking word! I’m not moving an inch without talking this out with you today, I swear.”

Harry’s resolve weakens a bit at that, because he knows, he knows he’s acting irrational. 

You’re scared.  

“I..” Harry hesitates, rubbing at his neck. 

“Just open the fuckin’ door, Harry! For fucks sake, I’ll maintain a six feet distance from you if that’s what you want. Or you know what? I’ll talk from outside the door if that’s what you want me to settle with, just…” Louis rants out, breath ragged. “Talk to me, Harry. Fight with me.”

Harry’s resolve completely crumbles at that, tears already brimming in his eyes. 

He opens the door. 

Louis stands there, looking as perfect as he always does, fringe dishevelled in the most artful of ways, the cosiest in his grey hoodie and black trakies, tired eyes bearing the brightest of oceans. 

Oh boy, his heart drops to his stomach. 

“You don’t need to do all of that, you can come in,” Harry tilts his head, inviting him inside his room, and Louis enters.

“Alright, we’re just gonna head out,” Niall says, as he packs his study material into his bag, Charu doing the same. He walks to Harry, “you’ve got this, H,” he reassures, and then walks past Louis before giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. He motions at Charu yet again, and she finally makes it out, both of them gone, door shutting close.

Silence looms, uncomfortable and bearing. 

Louis is the first to break it. “Before I say anything, I want to make sure–I just want to ask,” his voice cracks on the last word, a shuddering breath, his eyes squeezing shut, “Did I hurt you, Harry? The other day, when we made-” he sucks a pained breath, “when we had sex? Is that why you–?”

“Louis no , shit, no,” Harry frantically grasps his hands between his, “Look at me,” he pleads, Louis’ eyes red and brimming, “No, never love. You were perfect, everything was perfect, it was perfect, I can’t stress it enough.”

Louis looks up at the ceiling, willing for his tears not to trail down, “then why did you leave like that, Harry? You never answered my texts. Do you have any idea, the agony I have been living through for the past two days?  Fucking hell, Harry, I only wanted to know if you were fine, could’ve shot me a text.”

“I panicked, Louis.” Harry answers truthfully. “I panicked out of my fucking mind. I panicked because I realised that I still love you, and I didn’t register it in my head until later how scary that would’ve been for you. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry Louis. I really didn’t mean to do that—”

“You’re still in love with me?” Louis gasps. 

Oh no

“Oh no,” Harry echoes. 

“Oh no ? ” Louis asks, “You say you’re in love with me and the next thing you say, ‘oh no?’ ” he asks amusedly. 

Harry huffs, hands on either side of his waist, “You weren’t supposed to know,” he runs a palm down his face, “Ugh. That was the whole point of me staying away.”

Louis takes a step towards him, gently prying his hand away and tucks a curl behind his ear. “Sorry to break it to you, Harry darling, but it was pretty evident with the way you laughed at me horrible jokes,” he laughs sympathetically at Harry’s annoyed whine. 

“I’m pathetic,” Harry groans. 

“You absolutely are not,” Louis states fiercely. “Harry, we only need to talk this out, I promise, love. We can figure it out,” Louis gathers his hands between his own, bringing it up to his lips, “Give us a chance, Harry. We deserve it.” 

But the pain, the hurt that comes with losing Louis. Harry isn’t strong enough to endure it again. 

“Louis,” Harry starts, “I can’t bear the pain of losing you once more. What if it doesn’t work out, Lou? What if we just wanna give it a try now ‘cause we think it’ll be easy but then we break our hearts again?”

“I can tell you one thing for sure, Harry. This is not going to be easy. Not a single bit. We need to talk about shit, H, we need to communicate cause both of us fuckin know we lack in that area a thousandfold.” 

“We do,” Harry sniffles, “W-we do, and it’s mostly me, because I always kept avoiding our issues whenever you wanted to talk about something, whenever you asked me if everything was good between us. I brushed it off when it actually bothered the fuck out of me and I thought that won’t make us argue with eachother,” he chuckles wetly, “but it made us break up,” his face crumples, palms immediately coming up to cover his face as he slides to the floor, body shaking with the sobs wracking through. 

“Darling, no, ” 

He feels Louis by his side in a second, arms around him in a warm embrace as he gently rocks them back and forth, leaving sweet kisses over the crown of Harry’s head. 

“Shh, my darling,” Louis whispers, “S’alright, my love. It wasn’t only your fault H. I was equally to blame. I didn’t spend enough time with you, I know that. I had too much on my plate and I should’ve either not taken it upon me, or atleast known how to manage it all.”

“B-but, you’re young, Louis. And you’re talented, so talented. Of course you shouldn’t miss out on any opportunity you get. You shouldn’t have to make a choice between me a-and your passions. I-i should’ve understood where you were coming from. I’m the worst boyfriend e-ever, the worst,” Harry cries harder, tears readily dampening Louis’ clothed shoulder. 

“Oh my sweet soul, you’re not. You’re absolutely the best boyfriend anyone in this world can have, Harry,” Louis hugs him harder, “And I should know how to manage my stuff, H. One of the million things I can learn from you is the way you make time, darling. You’re just as busy as me, but you still make an abundance of time for Ni, Charu, for me, all of us. And I? I made you feel like you aren’t worth any of mine, which, I’m so fucking sorry, so sorry Harry. You’re the most precious to me.”

“I-I was so scared, Louis, when you asked me to participate with you,” Harry says, holding tight onto Louis’ arm. “Not because I’ll fall for you again.”

Louis gently strokes through his scalp, tears streaking down his own cheeks,“Why else, sweetheart?”

“It’s ‘cause,” Harry breathes out shakily, “I was scared that we might not have our baking c-compatibility anymore, our thing , and the possibility of happening that was terrifying to think of.”

“ Harry, ” Louis says brokenly, “is that why you asked to have a compatibility test at first, baby?”

 Harry nods, a wry smile on his face. “We stopped baking together after November.”

“Because of me,” Louis adds, squeezing his eyes shut. “Harry, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Hush, you wanted us to talk it out right?” he cups Louis’ face between his hands, urging him to meet his gaze, “I’m telling you only because of that, not to make you feel guilty.”

“But I feel guilty,” Louis admits, a single teardrop sliding down his damp cheek. 

“I know you do,” Harry says gently, wiping the sole tear away. “And thank you for telling me. We should do more of this, Lou. We should talk about our feelings.”

“One hundred percent. I completely agree, darling.” 

“I just really love you, Louis,” Harry stresses, practically seated on Louis’ lap, arms a tight grip around his neck, “So much.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Louis repeats. “So much, baby,” he stresses back. “And I’m gonna try so hard to mend this between us, if you’re in this with me.”

“I’m scared,” Harry admits, rubbing his reddened nose, “I’m really scared, Louis. But I want to try.” 

“I know sweetheart,” Louis reassures, “and I’m fucking terrified as well, god to honest, Harry, we have to put in so much effort to make this last. We have a lot to talk about, we’re gonna have arguments, and nights we make eachother sleep on the couch, hell, we might annoy the fuck out of each other. ” a flash of determination coats over his features, eyes burning into Harry’s own. “But we’re also gonna have mornings with lazy kisses and sweet words, our sunsets with hands held, and evenings in our kitchen.” He exhales, “ We aren’t worth giving up this easily. Our love isn’t worth giving up this easily.” 

“ Lou,” Harry crashes his lips against Louis’ 

And he can finally breathe. 

“We’ve got this, darling,” Louis promises against his lips. 

“We’ve got this,” Harry promises back. 

✩⡱

Valentines day

“Okay, yes, to the right, Louis no! You’re moving to the fucking left, you idiot,” Harry yells out, “we need salt! Not vinegar, for fucks sake.”

“You try having your eyes blindfolded, wanker, when you’re specifically told to pick out the right set of ingredients for baking!” Louis yells back, scoffing when another participant pushes him to the side. “Watch out, mate. This is not a dance floor, for your kind information,” he spits out at the unknown person. 

“Way to go, Chad! That’s it honey! ” the woman beside Harry cheers, shooting him an arrogant smirk when her partner manages to pick out baking soda from the large table in front of him, lined up with a variety of spices, baking essentials and ingredients to choose from. 

Since this was a ‘surprise valentines baking competition’ (Which, Louis evidently forgot to mention the surprise part, of course,) the whole challenge was that between a participating couple, one partner had to be blindfolded and instructed by another to pick out the right baking ingredients, and so the other partner can finish baking a simple but edible pastry or dessert of choice, all within the time frame of an hour. 

Louis has been at the table for half an hour, and has picked up a significant amount of ingredients, and Harry can make it work if he grabs just another one; salt.

Harry scoffs at her, cupping his hands over his mouth so he’s more audible, “Louis! The other pairs have already started baking, we don’t have time! There’s this one woman shooting me a nasty look. Our pride is at stake!” 

“Ugh, Harry, this is so fucking tough,” Louis groans, “And I swear to god, I’ll give her a piece of me mind once this is–”

“You’re touching it! Louis you’ve found it! Oh my god just grab it and put it in,” Harry cheers, excited that he’s got ahold of the salt. 

“That’s what she said, ” A random man from beside him smirks suggestively, winking at him.

“Ew,” Harry shudders, “only my boyfriend can try that line on me, no thanks,” he moves away, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees Louis approach him. 

Harry immediately removes the blindfold off of his face, gently carding his fingers through his tousled fringe. “You did so good, baby!” Harry praises him, leaving a soft kiss onto Louis’ smiling lips. 

“Yeah? Thank you angel. I tried, ya know? But Jesus, that was tough,” he blows a breath out. 

“Okay, I’ve gotta bake now, Lou, ’ve only got thirty minutes on my hands,” Harry replies anxiously, “I need to go to my assigned counter.” 

“Show them who you are, my fierce feline!” Louis smacks a wet kiss onto his cheek. “I’ll be standin right there with Char, Ni, and the boys, okay? We’re gonna be cheering for you the loudest.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Hell yeah,” Louis assures, “I love you, baby. Show them who you are.” 

“Love you, Lou,” Harry replies, kissing him one more time before he runs to his assigned counter. He’d decided on an oldie but a goodie, chocolate chip cookies, and he knows for sure he doesn’t have time to go all out and prepare something eloquent, especially when there were seven more couples way ahead of them. 

“Go Harry!” he hears Charu cheer out for him as he’s halfway through preparing the dough, followed by a group voices chanting his name, and he really has to bite down on a smile at that because, 

All of Louis’ frat brother’s had wanted to watch them participate, and so all of them invited themselves as an audience. 

They were a nuisance. 

Harry loves this so much.

“Harry! You go bro, show them you’re the real deal,” Brian from the frat cheers.

“Oh my god, what are a bunch of frat boys doing here, Peter?” 

“How the fuck will I know, Samantha?!”

“Deal with it, Samantha ,” Zayn replies, rolling his eyes. “Go big or go home!” 

“That’s me boyfriend right there!” Louis cheers, accent thick, “Counter number twenty eight is my boy!” 

“Lou,” Harry giggles to himself, shaking his head as he quickly places parchment paper on the tray, digging the scoop into the dough hurriedly. 

Gentle, he remembers from when Louis had told him. 

He carefully places all of the dough around the tray in perfect dollops, adding a few more chocolate chips on top to make it presentable, and then rushes to keep it inside the oven. Once he sets the required temperature and timer, he breathes a sigh of relief, practically running back to the audience to be with his boyfriend. 

“You did so fabulous darling!” Louis hugs him so hard, he can’t breathe. “Amazing, my masterchef. You were so fast, love, fucking wonderful.”

“Thanks, but,” Harry smiles, “I don’t think we’re gonna win, Lou. People have made some amazing stuff.”

Louis simply rolls his eyes, pulling him closer. “Fuck this, then. Lemme take you out on a proper dinner date.”

“Oo, you’re planning to woo your boyfriend, Tomlinson?”

“Oh, I’ll woo you alright, Styles.” 

“We’re not getting rich then,” Niall sighs, looking at the couple. 

“Oh, I think we’re not,” Charu replies, “But they’re definitely getting rich,” she sighs, watching as they both whisper against each other’s lips, giggling and laughing at inside jokes only they’ll know. 

And if they do end up winning the third place as a consolidation, Harry simply thinks it’s perfect. 

✩⡱

November, 2021 - make me your future history, it’s time! 

“Will that be all?” Harry asks the customer, packing the vanilla cupcakes into the paper box, making sure he doesn’t get any frosting on the sides of it. 

“Umm, I think that’s all Karlie had asked me to buy,” the blonde haired woman replies, messing with her fringe. “Oh wait! Have you got any of those,” she snaps her fingers, trying to recollect what she wants, “those…uh, cherry pastries?” 

“Oh the cherry pastry pies are actually fresh now,” Charu replies from next to him, as she carefully slides a slice of red velvet cake into the triangular box for another customer. “It’s Marie’s specialty so I recommend that you definitely give it a try.” 

“Wonderful then. I’ll take two of them,” she smiles, her electric blue eyes comforting. 

Speaking of electric blues, 

Louis and him have been texting once in a while ever since he’d given him his number, most of his texts surprisingly being baking doubts. Harry had never assumed the guy to be someone who bakes in his spare time, but turns out Louis Tomlinson is full of pleasant surprises. They wave at each other on campus, exchanging occasional ‘hi’s’ or ‘byes’ when they pass by each other. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

Which is why when he’d seen a notification pop up on his phone an hour ago titled ‘louis,’ he’d assumed it to be a text message. 

What he didn’t realise until now, was that it was a call. 

“ Oh fuck ,” he mutters under his breath, staring at the notification like a put out puppy. 

“Har,” Charu nudges him, “they’d asked you for 2 cherry pie pastries.” 

“Oh right! Sorry I’ll just pack ‘em up,” he packs it up, adding up her total and giving her the bag of goods. 

“Have a nice day…” he trails off, not knowing her name. 

“It’s Taylor,” She smiles. “Have a good one as well, Harry.” 

Harry shoots her a polite smile, and then goes back to staring at his phone, a sigh leaving his lips. 

“What is it, H?” Charu asks, wiping her hands on the maroon apron, her expression curious. 

“ Char, ” Harry groans, butting his head against her shoulder. “Louis called me.” 

She gasps, pulling him away to look at him. “That’s a good thing, no?! What happened?” 

“S’work time, and I missed his call.” 

“Offo, you and your stupid reasons, bub,” she rolls her eyes, pushing him towards the back kitchen. “You better call him right now and stir up a good conversation, I swear to god Harry otherwise I’ll be under your bed.”

“Alright, jeez,” Harry pouts. “I’ll call him. But you better call me if there are customers–”

“As if we’ve got a whole crowd lined up, Harry. Get inside now,” she says, leaving no room for protest. 

He locks the door and settles on the floor, back against the hardwood door. He inhales deeply as he clicks on Louis’ number, shutting his eyes close when it starts ringing. 

What if it had been a butt dial? Or like, if he’d meant to call another harry and not him?

Fuck his mind, honestly. 

“Hello?” his raspy voice asks from the receiver. 

“Hey um, hi, Louis. Harry here, from the bakery. Um…” oh my god he hates phone calls, why did they have to be so awkward and uncomfortable?  “...you’d called?”

“Hey Harry from the bakery,” Louis replies amusedly. “I did in fact call you. What have you been up to?!”

“I’m at work now, actually,” Harry says, “have crochet club later today. How about you?”

“Oh m’sorry love, I didn’t know you were working today,” Louis says. “Crochet club sounds cool.”

“Ah, no worries. We haven’t got a lot of customers anyways. What’s up?”

“It’s,” he hears Louis chuckle, and the sound of that does something to his heart, “it’s kinda silly…”

“Oh no no, tell me I’m all ears,” Harry encourages, heart slightly beating faster. Was he going to ask him out on a date, maybe? Or profess some kind of undying love?

The last one is a reach. Harry knows. He’s well aware. 

But maybe? 

“It’s a baking doubt.”

Oh. “Oh,” Harry replies, his tone a touch less excited. “What is it?” 

“I’m um…baking cinnamon rolls?” he says, “and I’m a bit confused here. I-i really don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I could bring ‘em to my sister’s birthday this evening. But at this rate I don’t think it’s possible.” 

Harry was melting. “Why? What happened?” 

“I burnt the first batch,” Louis sighs. “The top part was perfect, yeah? All cinnamony and somewhat resembling the shape of a roll. But at the bottom,” he makes a whooshing sound, “completely gone.” 

“Oh, Lou. That’s unfortunate,” Harry shakes his head. 

“Yeah. and these fuckin youtube tutorials i swear to god…I’m convinced they skip a few steps cos I’m on the fifth step, right?” 

Harry giggles, “yeah?”

“And they just move on to the tenth! Like, warn a man?” he sighs. “So I’d thought that I could ask you for a few cinnamon roll tricks?”

Harry contemplates what tips he could offer Louis, before he blurts out, “I could facetime you and guide you through?” 

The line goes silent, and Harry fears that he’s gone overboard. 

“...or not”

“Are you asking me on a virtual kitchen date, Harold?” Louis asks, his tone smug. 

Harry chuckles, “Well someone had to finally do it. And since you made no use of having my number, I had to make the first move.” 

“Well played Harold, well played. But remember it was me who asked for your number, and called.” 

“Doesn’t count,” Harry sing-songs. “Alright, I’ll call you from facetime.” 

He sets the phone on top of one of the counters, quickly ruffling through his hair and rubbing at his eyes before he facetimes him. 

“Heyy,” Louis pouts on screen, “you cut the call before I could say it counts.” He’s wearing a cosy adidas hoodie, feathery fringe adorning his forehead beautifully. “You look bloody gorgeous by the way, wow,” Louis blows a breath out.

“Stop,” Harry blushes. “You’re trying too much,” he rolls his eyes. 

“That’s what she said,” he blurts out, before his eyes widen at his own words. “Oh my god, this is a fantastic first impression.” he drags a palm down his face. 

Harry simply giggles, dimples deepening. 

“Oh my god, your dimples,” Louis whines, burying his face against his palms. “I’ve lost all of my chances.”

“Louis!” Harry giggles harder, “are you always this dramatic?”

“Just nervous,” Louis replies, shrugging, a nervous smile on his face. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, love,” Harry reassures. “Now, what’s the cinnamon roll problem?”

Louis goes off camera for a second, before he reappears on screen, holding a plate full of perfectly looking cinnamon rolls, absolutely charred underneath. 

“Tragic,” Harry winces.

“I know,” Louis groans. “I’d promised Olive that I’d bring her some today.”

“Olive?” Harry asks, assuming that it was the name of his sister.

“Me sister,” Louis smiles. “Her name’s Olivia, but we call her Olive, ya know?” 

“Cute!” Harry comments, “Now are you ready to get Olive her cinnamon rolls, Louis?” 

“Born ready!” Louis exclaims, full of energy. 

“Alright so, the dough first…” 

Harry patiently instructs him on how to prepare the dough, finding that Louis was very much well-versed with what he was doing.

“How’d you learn all of this?” Harry asks curiously. 

“From me mum. She’d worked at a bakery when she was younger, and so both of us siblings know a bit of it here and there.”

Harry coos, “That’s adorable,” 

Louis wiggles an eyebrow at him, kneading the dough skillfully, “Mission charm Harry with anecdotes of me mum, accomplished.”

“Hush,” Harry shushes him playfully. “Where are you from, anyways? I don’t think you’re from here given your accent.”

“M’originally from Doncaster, Yorkshire. Moved to Connecticut when I was about fourteen, but the accent never faded,” he shrugs.

“Well I’m glad it didn’t. S’cute,” Harry winks. 

Louis tries really hard to bite down on the smile spreading across his face at Harry’s comment, and Harry watches as he absolutely fails, a ‘v’ shaped smile painting his face. 

“Enough of me then,” Louis says, keeping the dough aside as he starts working on the cinnamon sugar, “tell me something about you?”

“M’from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. Came here ‘cause of a scholarship I’d applied for with Niall, my best mate. Neither of us thought we’d get in, to be honest,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “It was surreal, honestly.” 

“Good on you, love,” Louis smiles. “Seems like you’ve both worked real hard for this, yeah?” 

“Yeah we tried our best. Plus, Ni’s uncle was already here, so it was easy with him helping us out with moving and stuff,” Harry explains. 

Louis nods, acknowledging what he’d said. “Always very helpful to have someone. Got any siblings?”

“An older sister, actually. Gemma.” 

“Oh so you’re the baby sibling, aw,” Louis smiles. “Fitting.” 

“Whatever,” Harry mutters, cheeks turning scarlet. “How’d you get into the uni?”

“Oh me,” Louis chuckles, “I actually played for our highschool team and an under 18 nationals one, and kinda secured a sports scholarship?” he rubs at his neck. “But um, my parents can kinda afford to pay for the fees? Cos it’s quite expensive here. In that way, I’m really thankful that they can, because the scholarship covers only half of it.”

“Wow, Lou. An eloquent way of rubbing it on my face that you’re rich.”

Louis’ eyes widen instantly, “Harry, I didn’t mea-”

“Oh no, your face,” Harry gasps, “sorry Lou I was just messing with you, love.” 

“Cheeky one, you are,” Louis huffs out. 

“Mhm, what are you gonna do about that?”

“Oh nothing, fierce feline, just stating a mere fact.”

“Better watch your mouth, hedgehog.”

✩⡱