Chapter Text
September
Age 7
Harry Styles is seven years old when the rules of a new television series are explained to him. He’s sat nervously on a barstool, green eyes wide, hair combed into a mushroom cut, looking around the room at the camera workers. His mum is stood off to the side, chatting with some of the production crew, looking over at Harry every so often, giving him a reassuring wink whenever they make eye contact.
A blonde woman who appears to be in her late 20’s crouches down to meet Harry’s eyes. She has a warm smile and when she cups his shoulder in her hand, he immediately relaxes.
“Congratulations, Harry!” she exclaims cheerfully. “You’ve been chosen to be a part of The Up Series, along with some of your other classmates. Today, we’re going to ask you a few simple questions while that man records you talking,” she says, pointing to a tall man with a dark moustache. “And then, when you turn 14, we’re going to ask you the very same questions, and then again when you’re 21, so on and so forth.”
“Wow, 14? That’s a long time from now,” Harry says, furrowing his brows.
The woman chuckles. “It is, indeed. And we’re going to keep up with this process, every seven years.”
“And you’re going to ask me the same questions every time?”
“Indeed, we are.”
“Is there a wrong answer?”
She smiles. “Absolutely not. We want to hear Harry’s thoughts, which will be different from anyone else’s thoughts that we may interview.”
Harry thinks about that for a moment, and pokes his tongue through the hole where his bottom front tooth is missing. “But won’t my answers be the same every time we talk? I’m still me, even seven years from now.”
The woman squeezes his shoulder gently. “That’s the beauty of this documentary, Harry. Your mind is going to grow and change every time we talk, which means your answers will grow and change, as well. It’ll be very interesting, I promise you.”
Harry frowns. “Will I come back to this classroom every time you ask me these questions?”
She laughs and looks over her shoulder. “Anne, your son is full of questions. Who knew such a young boy would have to much to wonder about?”
He smiles. “And seven years from now, I’ll have even more to wonder about.”
She nearly snorts at that one, leaning down to meet his gaze once more. “You’re a bit fresh, aren’t you?” Harry smirks. “But no, Harry, we won’t make you come to this classroom every time we interview you. One day, when you’re grown, you might not live here in England anymore. You might be in another part of the country, or in Australia, or the United States. We’ll find you, and come to you.”
He shakes his head violently. “I’m never leaving my mum.”
Anne smiles from across the room. “Now, I hope that was recorded!”
They take another few minutes to get the camera equipment fully set up, explaining to Harry what the bright lights were used for, and why they were hooking a microphone up to his shirt. Once he was settled comfortably on his chair, the blonde woman claps encouragingly, and says, “Okay, Harry, whenever you’re ready!”
Harry clears his throat and looked into the camera, just like he was told to. “Hello, um, I’m Harry Edward Styles, I am seven years old, and I will be eight on February 1st. I am in year two of school and my favourite subject is literature. I like to read, ride my bike, play with my sister Gemma, and watch films with my family.”
He looks over at Anne, who gives him a thumbs up. The interviewer from off camera, a young man with glasses that take over his entire face, says, “It’s nice to meet you, Harry Styles. Are you ready for our questions?”
“I think so.”
The adults in the room chuckle quietly. “Okay, Harry, here’s your first question: what goals do you have for yourself right now?”
Harry ponders for a moment. “Like, something I would like to be able to do eventually?”
“Exactly. What is seven-year-old Harry Styles’ goal?”
He thinks. “Okay. Um, I think my goal would be to finish the book I’m reading with my mum. It’s really thick and has a lot of words in it that I don’t know yet, but I would like to finish it by the time summer holidays start.”
“That’s lovely, Harry. Alright, your second question is: what goals do you have for yourself in the future?”
“Anytime in the future?”
“Whatever future means to you, love.”
He chews on his bottom lip. “I think I would like to make new friends for myself. Mum tells me I’m very shy and that’s okay, but that makes it harder for me to find friends. The next time we talk when I’m 14, I hope I have a lot of new friends.”
He looks over at Anne, whose chin is quivering.
“Perfect. Harry, what’s something you’re afraid of?”
“Oh, this question is much easier,” Harry says, making everyone laugh. “I don’t like the dark, or bees. This summer, I was stung for the first time, and now I am absolutely petrified.” The room bursts out into laughter again.
The man with the glasses clears his throat, chuckling. “I’m very sorry to hear that, love. And we have one more question for you.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it! Okay, Harry: what does love mean to you?”
Harry looks down at his shoes and then back up to the camera. He swallows twice before answering. “I think love is when you do something for someone else even when you don’t want to because you know it’ll make them happy.” His gaze travels over to Anne, who is wringing her hands together. “I know my mum loves me and Gemma. She tells us all the time, and I can tell she loves me every time she hugs me. I can just feel it.” His eyes water a bit, and he rubs them before continuing. “My mum told me and Gemma that even though she and my dad aren’t going to live together anymore doesn’t mean they don’t love us, it just means they don’t have that love for each other.” He huffs out a breath, afraid to look in his mother’s direction. “This question is a bit tricky, I’m sorry if that answer is terrible.”
The interviewer shakes his head. “No, Harry, that’s fantastic. Would you like to add anything else?”
Harry nods. “Yeah. Okay. I think love is when parents stay married, even when they don’t want to, because they know it’ll make their kids feel happy.” He works up the courage to look directly at his mum, who has tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mummy, it’s okay. It is.”
The blonde woman whispers just loud enough for Harry to hear, “Perceptive boy you’ve got here, Anne.”
Anne sniffles. “Apparently so.”
After Harry and Anne fill out some final paperwork and say their goodbyes to the crew with the promise of See you when you’re 14!, they walk out of the classroom and into the hallway, nearly bumping into the next boy in line. His mother is standing beside him, balancing a baby on her hip.
She holds out her hand toward Anne. “Hi, I’m Jay. My son Louis was chosen for The Up Series. Did you just get done filming?”
Anne shakes Jay’s hand. “Yes, we did. This is Harry, and I’m Anne.”
Louis looks nervously at Harry. “Were the questions hard?”
Harry shakes his head. “Nope, it was all really easy, and kinda fun.”
Louis relaxes visibly. “Okay, good. I’ve never done this before.”
“Me either, but I liked it!”
The boys grow silent, listening to their mothers chat for a bit, eventually exchanging phone numbers. “Good luck to you, and we’ll keep in touch,” Anne says. “Hopefully before we have two teenage boys on our hands!”
Jay laughs. “I can’t even think about that. Louis and Charlotte are enough. I can’t imagine having a teenager and a preteen…”
Anne and Jay say goodbye, and Anne grabs Harry’s hand in her own as they walk down the corridor.
“Jay and Louis are lovely,” she says.
“Yeah, they seemed nice,” Harry says, skipping to keep up with his mum.
“Would you like to have Louis over our house to play?”
Harry smiles, his dimple popping out. “Can he?”
Anne laughs. “We’ll call up his mum another day, love.”
September
Age 14
After Harry’s first interview, Anne had made it her mission to find Harry some genuine friends and called up Jay the day after their first interview, asking her if she and Louis wanted to stop by for a cuppa and some time for the boys to play. Jay accepted happily, saying it was always lovely to make new friends, no matter the age, and together, the four of them - plus baby Charlotte - spent the afternoon laughing and thoroughly enjoying each other’s company.
Harry and Louis have been inseparable ever since.
Each year, the boys grew increasingly closer, their adoration for one another blatant and obvious to anyone watching. And by the time year nine rolled around, Harry and Louis were stuck to each other like glue, occasionally allowing Liam and Niall into their secret club, whom they met in year seven.
Harry, now 14, is sat still on the chair, similar to the one he sat in seven years prior. This time, though, his mum isn’t present, and his nerves are significantly lessened.
The same blonde woman from before - Eloise, Harry learns - smiles at him. “Remember, love, the more open and honest you are, the more fabulous this documentary will turn out to be, yeah?”
Harry nods.
“Okay, Harry, whenever you’re ready.”
He clears his throat. “Uh, hello. It’s me again.” He smiles. “I’m Harry Styles, I’m 14 years old, and my birthday is still February 1st.” A few chuckles go around the room. “I am in year nine of my schooling and I still like literature the most. My best friends are Louis, Niall, and Liam.”
“What are your goals for your current self?”
Harry pauses briefly before answering. “Probably to really apply myself this year and do well so I can get into an excellent university. I think I would like to be a lawyer someday, maybe.”
“And what are your goals for the future?”
“To get a job by the end of the year. I know quite a few places that are hiring. It would be a big help to have my own money and stop asking my parents.”
The interviewer - Augustus - laughs. He’s the same man from before, but now his glasses are gone. “I bet your mum would love to hear that.”
“Probably, yeah.”
“Harry, what’s something you’re afraid of?”
Harry hadn’t remember the questions exactly, and he desperately wishes he had. He wanted to be more prepared for this, to come up with a well thought out lie, but before he can think better of it, he lets the truth spill out, slowly and quietly.
“I am absolutely and dreadfully afraid of telling my best friend that I’m in love with him. I don’t think I quite realized it until recently, but now that I’ve thought about it, and finally said it out loud, it’s all I can think about, really.” The entire room is silent. No one moves for several seconds, which might as well feel like hours, and Harry can’t stop squirming in his chair. His throat feels unbearably dry. “You said be honest, so I’m being honest!”
Augustus laughs. “No, Harry, that’s beautiful. I’m glad you’re so honest.” Harry shrugs, and Augustus continues. “Last question: what does love mean to you?”
Harry can’t help but smile. “For my birthday last year, Louis gave me a card that had pictures of us inside it and he wrote about all of his favourite memories of us since we met when we were seven. And he wrote about things I don’t even remember happening. Like, apparently, one time, I was having dinner at his house and his sisters were fighting over who got to sit next to me. And normally when they argue, it bugs him, but in this particular instance, it didn’t because it means that his sisters love me like one of their own and it makes him happy to see that.” Harry looks down at his lap and pulls absentmindedly at a thread on his trousers. “I don’t know. It was just a lovely card and made me feel really appreciated.” He shrugs, and then looks directly into the camera. “Love, to me, is the ideas and words written on the inside of that birthday card from my best friend.”
It doesn’t dawn on Harry until after they’ve turned off the cameras that the crew knows Louis personally, and that they could tell him everything.
He approaches Eloise. “I might tell him one day,” he says, his palms clammy and voice wavering. “So can you please not spoil it for me?”
Eloise smiles. “We won’t say a word, Harry. But you should tell him, most definitely. Trust me on that one.”
It takes nearly another year for Harry to work up the courage to even so much as hint to Louis that he might be interested in him as more than just a friend.
They’re sat at the edge of Harry’s pool, feet dangling into the water. The July weather isn’t unbearable, but it’s still uncomfortable, and Harry is grateful for the opportunity to cool down. He leans back on his hands, closing his eyes in the sunshine, when he feels Louis’ hand on his own. His heart feels like it’s caught in his throat when he opens his eyes to look at Louis. Louis catches his gaze and laughs.
“Oops, sorry, mate. Didn’t see your hand there.”
Harry forces out a weak laugh. Neither of them speak for several tension-filled moments until Harry talks first. “I’d let you hold my hand, you know.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
Louis’ laugh sounds as fake as Harry’s. “I’m sure you would.”
“I would!”
“I know, that’s what I’m saying.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Lou…”
But Louis ignores Harry and takes that as his invitation to cannonball into the pool, completely soaking Harry from head to toe.
By the autumn, Harry is nearly buzzing out of his skin with how badly he wants to kiss Louis. And he knows it has to be obvious; whenever Louis talks, Harry has to actively force himself to look away from Louis’ lips. Think about anything else is the permanent mantra swimming in his mind.
He used to feel bad about it, really. Guilty, almost, that he’d spend the day with Louis, doing basic lad stuff, and he’d have to nearly run home to get himself off in the darkness of his bedroom, biting his lip, cursing that he got to this point.
But now, he’s so consumed by Louis, that he allows it. He allows his thoughts to wander to Louis whenever he’s sat in class, he allows himself to wonder what Louis tastes like, he allows himself to pretend his feelings for Louis are mutual and not at all awkward and one-sided.
He lets it overwhelm him until he physically can’t hold it in anymore.
He’s sat beside Louis on his couch a few weeks before Christmas. A film is playing - something horribly boring that neither boy has paid much attention to since it started up - and Harry puts his hand on Louis’ knee, just to touch any piece of him that he can. He needs the contact to settle himself, to calm his nerves. He can feel the words on the tip of his tongue:
Louis, I can’t stop thinking about you.
Louis, I’d do anything to be able to kiss you.
Louis--
“Harry, can I kiss you?”
Harry whips his head around so quickly, he nearly pulls a muscle. “You… What?”
Louis is blushing a vibrant shade of scarlet, his blue eyes wide, but unwavering. “Sorry, that’s weird, right? Fuck.” He starts shifting away from Harry on the couch before Harry can do anything to react, and stands up. “Jesus, I’m embarrassed, I’m so sorry, Hazza. Do you want to go home? Yeah, just leave. Go ahead, no worries.” Louis laughs nervously, running his fingers through his fringe.
Harry has never seen Louis so flustered. It’s so unlike him to be so shy and uncomfortable. He’s usually the put together one while Harry is the one tripping over his own words, and for some reason, it makes Harry want to kiss him even more, seeing Louis undone like this.
He gets up on his feet, Louis’ gaze traveling to Harry, and in a surge of bravery, he backs Louis up against the wall, his hands on Louis’ jaw.
“Wanna kiss you so bad,” he whispers, unable to meet Louis’ eyes. When Louis nearly whines, Harry looks up, and sees him biting his bottom lip.
“Do it.”
“I’m gonna.”
“Okay, then. I’ll be here. Waiting.”
Harry smiles before he leans in so painfully slowly, he can almost hear his heart beating. And when his lips finally brush against Louis’, the only thing he can think of is, This was worth the wait.
Now that the seal has been broken, Harry can’t seem to keep his hands off of Louis. It’s like no matter where they are, Harry finds any excuse he can to cup Louis’ jaw in his hands, pressing their lips together, tongues meeting in the middle. Louis seems to feel the same.
They’re lazily kissing on Louis’ couch late one night, the end credits to a film rolling, laying next to each other side-by-side. Normally, they stick to this, kissing until they’re both breathless, hard, and sporting pink cheeks. But Harry can feel Louis getting harder underneath his thigh, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to touch and taste him.
“Lou,” he whispers into his neck, thrusting his hips into Louis’, eliciting a small whimper from Louis.
“Haz,” Louis answers, sliding his hands into Harry’s hair and gripping hard, drawing a figure eight shape with his hips against Harry’s.
Harry groans and kissing up Louis’ jaw. “Can’t stop thinking about sucking you off.”
Louis stills completely with the exception of his fingers, which dig into Harry’s scalp even harder. “What exactly do you think about?” he asks on an exhale.
Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “I think about how you’d feel in my mouth.”
Louis starts moving his hips again. “What else?”
“Think about the way you’d look when I’m going down on you. Bet you look so good when you come. Want you to come apart from just my mouth.”
He moans, ducking his head down into the crook of Harry’s neck. “Want you to make me come.” Harry can feel his smirk. “If you think you can.”
Harry bites at Louis’ neck and then flips him underneath him, a move he didn’t know he was capable of. “I’m gonna. And you have to be quiet. Your mum and the girls are all asleep right above us.”
“You’re gonna have to give it to me really good if you think I’m not gonna be able to stay quiet.” He looks up at Harry, eyes nearly blazing. “I wank thinking about you sucking me off all the time, and I’m always quiet enough that no one suspects a thing.”
Harry feels his mouth go dry. He rocks his hips down to meet Louis’, and the friction is delicious. But it’s not enough. “You think about me when you get yourself off?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound as low as it does. Louis’s eyes grow wide.
“If you make me come within the next 10 minutes, I’ll tell you exactly what I think about when I get myself off,” Louis says with a grin, biting at his bottom lip. Harry’s so fucking hard.
“Okay, I’m gonna do that. Wanna hear what you do to yourself. Wanna taste you so bad.”
Louis groans when Harry sits up on his knees and pulls down Louis’ trousers and pants in one swift motion. His cock is standing up, hard and shiny at the tip. Harry’s hands are shaking, he’s been waiting for this for months. Years, maybe.
He bends down to breathe hot air over Louis’ dick, Louis twitching beneath him, gasping slightly. “You this hard just from the idea of my mouth?”
Louis clears his throat. “Don’t think so highly of yourself. If anyone had been grinding against me for the past half hour, I’d be this hard. It’s not all about you, Styles.”
Harry smirks. “It’s gonna be all about me.”
“We’ll see.”
He’s never done this before, but his cock is throbbing in his pants with how badly he wants to. He grips Louis at the base and in one sinking motion, he takes him most of the way down before he gags. Louis reaches down to grip at Harry’s hair. “Baby, just take a little bit, yeah?” he says, voice already wavering. “Do sound so fucking lovely choking on my cock, though.”
Harry pulls off completely, making Louis groan. “Shut up. And don’t call me ‘baby.’ It’s like you’re mocking me.”
Louis lifts his hips off the couch a bit, mindlessly chasing the feeling of Harry’s mouth again. “Haz, don’t stop. Please,” he whines. He never begs. Or says please. Harry’s feeling smug, and so, so turned on.
He takes him down again, not as deep this time, and gets a steady rhythm going. Up, down, up, down, swirl of the tongue, jerk of the hand, slide down as far as his throat will allow him to, repeat. He grips the meatiest part of Louis’ hips with his left hand to steady him, his right hand working mercilessly over Louis’ cock.
It doesn’t long before Louis’ moans are coming out much higher pitched and much more frequently. His breathing picks up, his chest heaving, and Harry can tell he’s close. He pulls off, licking the tip, and murmurs, “Knew you would taste good. And knew you would look so fucking hot like this, all worked up for me.” Louis whines. “‘m so hard, Lou. Christ. Wanna watch you come.” He sinks back down, much further this time, keeping his eyes on Louis’ face.
“Harry, I’m gonna,” he manages to stutter out, as if Harry couldn’t tell based on the way Louis’ thighs and stomach were trembling. He works his mouth over him as he feels Louis’ orgasm building, his jaw beginning to ache, but he doesn’t care.
Louis comes with a shout, flooding Harry’s mouth, and Harry can’t believe how unbearably hot Louis is, hips still thrusting lazily into Harry’s mouth even after he’s come down, hands still gripping at Harry’s curls.
Harry sits up and presses his palm against his own cock through his pants. “‘m not sure that constituted as the ‘quiet orgasm’ we had talked about, Lou,” he says, grinning and pleased with his work.
Louis rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here.”
Harry falls to his side, so fucking worked up that even the slightest touch from Louis’ hand on his waist is enough to have him moaning.
“You have to be quiet, too, Styles,” Louis reprimands, popping the button open and yanking Harry’s pants down, freeing his cock, fully hard. He gets a hand on Harry, moving slowly, testing out what feels best for Harry, and Harry’s sure he’s already gonna lose it.
He squirms under Louis as he says, “I’ll be quiet. Just tell me what you think about when you get yourself off.”
Louis chuckles. “Knew you wouldn’t forget.” His hand picks up speed, twisting and gliding, and it feels amazing. “I always think about your lips on my cock,” he starts off in a low whisper. “Knew it would feel good, but never thought it would look even better. You’re so fucking gorgeous, I can barely stand it.”
Harry pumps his hips into Louis’ hand faster. He should be embarrassed he’s already so close, but with Louis being uncharacteristically brutally honest for once, unashamed and sexy as hell, how can he be blamed?
“I think about you looking up at me the whole time. Love when your attention’s on me.”
Harry chokes out a laugh. “As if I could ever look away half the time.”
Louis smirks, kissing the side of Harry’s neck. “I think about you maybe gettin’ a couple fingers inside me while you’re sucking me down.” Harry groans, and bites the side of Louis’ shoulder through his shirt. “You’d look so good deep throating me, getting me ready to get fucked by you.”
And that’s all it takes to have Harry shooting up onto his own shirt - why didn’t he take it off? - hands shaking, eyes squeezed shut. He keeps thrusting into Louis’ hand until he feels overworked, and eventually slumps down onto the couch, exhausted.
Louis scoots down beside him, hand covered in Harry’s come, and Harry can’t help but laugh. “Grab the tissues behind you, you pig.”
“It’s not even my come!”
“Oh, like that makes it better.”
They clean themselves up and Harry wraps his arms around Louis, legs also locked together. He’s tracing his name along Louis’ spine when he asks, “Would you really let me fuck you?”
Louis laughs. “Took longer than I expected for you to mention that.” Harry can’t see his face, but he can tell he’s blushing. “I mean, I think so. Yeah? I think about it a lot. I think I’d prefer it, being fucked. And I obviously would want it to be with you.”
Harry can’t let himself think about that right now; too much, too hot. “Would definitely fuck you, if you let me.”
He snorts. “Such the gentleman.”
Harry’s heart beats at rapid speed until he’s finally fast asleep, Louis pressed up against him on the tiny, worn couch.
Harry’s sat at home in his bedroom, waiting for Louis to stop by after footie practice, and he knows Louis is going to be in a foul mood; the sky has just opened up, flooding the streets, and he’s going to be soaked to the core. Harry’s already mentally preparing himself for the wrath that is, “Fuck you, give me your jumper, I’m fucking freezing. No, not that one, that one. Where’s my tea?”
He hears the front door open a bit later, followed by, “Harry? You better have dry clothes for me somewhere. I’m about to die from hypothermia.”
Harry shakes his head and smiles. Called it. “‘m up in my room, take whatever you want,” he yells out.
Louis steps in a few moments later, dripping wet from head to toe, his uniform completely stuck to him. “Fuck Stan. He drove me to practice and then when it started raining I told him to get his arse into gear and bring me here, but no. This is the one time he ever decides to be an overachiever and stayed the entire length of practice and wouldn’t give me the keys to the car. So now I’m cranky and moody and fucking wet.” He yanks his jersey up over his head, raindrops dripping down his back and stomach from his hair. “Gimme a jumper. I want the red one.”
Harry shakes his head. “Sorry, what’d you say?”
Louis sneers. “What the fuck? Did you not listen to a single thing I just said?”
Harry swallows. Honestly, he hadn’t been listening. He’d been staring at his fit as fuck boyfriend, whose see through white uniform was essentially painted on to his body, accentuating his every curve and muscle. “No, come here.”
“Leave me alone, I want the red jumper.”
“No. Louis. Come here.”
The tone in his voice shifts and Louis freezes. “What…”
Harry can’t help himself. He gets off the bed and essentially dives at Louis, pushing him up against the wall next to the bedroom door, raindrops still trickling down his face, shoulders, stomach. Harry wants to lick every drop off. “Do you have any idea how hot you look right now?”
Louis’ breath catches in his throat. “What are you going on about, Styles…”
Harry grips Louis’ waist, pressing his fingertips into his sides. “You think you can walk in here, dripping wet, stripping, and expect me not to want to suck you off right here, up against this wall?”
His breathing is heavy now. “Can’t control yourself for one night, H?”
“Not when you look like this, no.”
Harry can tell Louis is trying to play it nonchalant, but his voice cracks when he says, “Have at it, then.”
He dives in, pressing a bruising kiss to Louis’ lips, immediately sneaking his tongue into Louis’ mouth. He’s already panting and Louis isn’t much better off. He can’t stop pushing his hips into Harry’s, his hands wrapped around Harry’s neck, digging into the flesh there, and moaning every time Harry so much as licks at his bottom lip.
Harry drops to his knees, struggling to pull Louis out of his rain soaked shorts, way too eager to get his mouth wrapped around him. He’s nearly half hard when Harry takes him all the way down, immediately working him the way he’s learned Louis likes. He sucks hard but moves slowly, making Louis cant his hips, clearly loving the heat of Harry’s mouth.
“Harry, Haz,” Louis stutters out.
Harry doesn’t pull off. He groans, pulling Louis deeper into his mouth, head of Louis’ cock nudging the back of his throat.
“Harry, fuck, I want you to fuck me.”
He pulls his mouth off completely, gripping Louis by the base, moving his hand slowly. He looks up and meets Louis’ gaze. “I can’t tell if you’re serious.”
Louis looks torn between pushing Harry off all the way and thrusting his hips into the tight circle of Harry’s hand. “‘m serious. Always want you to fuck me but…” He pauses to hunch over slightly when Harry runs his thumb over the slit. “You’re gonna fuck me right now.”
In all of the time Harry has thought about this - and he has spent a lot of time thinking about it - he always imagined he’d heroically carry Louis to the bed, laying him out underneath him, and he’d take his time on him until he was a whimpering mess. He imagined he’d kiss him slowly unless Louis was begging for it, and he’d be so sure of himself, so good pounding into Louis, that Louis would cry, unable to stop himself. Dream Harry is amazing at sex.
What kind of fucking fantasy world.
He now realizes how stupid that is, because Louis’ in front of him, asking to be fucked, and Harry can’t make his legs work. He wants nothing more than to have sex with his boyfriend (what 16-year-old doesn’t?), but suddenly, he’s so nervous that he’s going to be terrible at it. And it must be obvious, because Louis suddenly sinks down to the floor in front of Harry, pants still around his ankles, and places his hands on Harry’s shoulders.
“Are you having a stroke?”
Harry’s cheeks burn up. “No.”
“It’s not me, right?”
“Oh my God, no,” he says, shaking his head furiously.
Louis smirks. “Didn’t think so. Know how bad you wanna fuck me. I mean, who wouldn’t?”
Harry snorts, but agrees with him. “I do wanna fuck you.”
“I know.” He looks Harry directly in the eyes, gaze piercing. “You’re nervous, yeah? I know you want to be all confident, but Harry, there’s nothing you could do that would make me not want you.” He smiles and squeezes Harry’s shoulders. “Friendly reminder that I’ve never done this before either, so I’m equally as inexperienced. And chances are, this is really gonna suck. We’ll both be to blame.”
Harry laughs at that. “I don’t want it to be bad, though. I wanna make it good for you. I want everything to be good for you.”
Louis’ expression softens at that. “Love, you aren’t gonna have much stamina and it’s probably gonna hurt me because, fuck, you’re really big.”
“I’m torn between being offended and being turned on.”
Louis smirks. “Just fuck me, yeah? You’re a quick study. First time you sucked me off I nearly blacked out.”
Harry knows he’s probably lying, but he feels his cock hardening up again, anyway. “Yeah?”
Louis licks his lips. “Mhmm. And you’ve only gotten better since. Quickest way to get me off, thinking about your lips around my cock.”
He reaches out and grabs Louis’ cock, stroking it back to full hardness. “It’s one of my favourite things, you know. Getting you off using just my mouth.”
Louis groans and leans back, his head thudding against the door behind him. “You’re good at it,” he says, breath hitching on an upstroke. He twists his wrist faster, and Louis whines. “Harry, I wasn’t kidding, I want you to fuck me.”
Harry can finally find the strength to stand up, pulling Louis up by the hips with him. “I’m gonna fuck you. Jesus, Lou. Been waiting for way too long,” he says, walking backward, unable to keep his eyes off Louis’ face. Most of his nerves from before are gone, especially when Louis starts biting at his lip in the way he does when he’s nervous, too. He feels better that he's not alone in this, that he has Louis.
The back of his knees hit the bed behind him, and he pulls Louis down for a kiss, laughing into it when he realizes Louis’ pants are still around his feet. Louis laughs, too, not bothering to ask what’s so funny, and mumbles into Harry’s mouth, “Shut up, Styles.” And then Louis’ hand is on his cock, silencing him instantly.
Louis gets him off slowly, Harry panting and unable to think about anything else other than the tight strokes of Louis’ hand. By the time he comes, his whole body is tightly wound with how badly he wants to come again, but this time, deep inside of Louis.
He pushes Louis down on his back, climbing over him to reach for a condom and lube in his nightstand, and Louis smirks.
“Use those often?”
Harry smiles, blushing. “Nah, just been waiting, like, three years for my boyfriend to let me put my cock in him.”
“Been thinking about it for three years?” Louis asks, stroking himself steadily, looking up at Harry.
Harry gulps. “Probably longer.”
“Are you telling me you were 12 and imagined fucking me?”
“Christ, Louis, I don’t know, just let me finger you!”
Louis bites back a laugh and he spreads his legs wider. “Pervert.”
Harry tries to let out a sigh of frustration, but he laughs instead. He knows Louis is teasing to relax him. It’s working. “I hate you and you’re impossible,” he says, coating his fingers in lube. What he really means is I’m crazy about you.
When he slides his pointer finger into Louis, he watches Louis’ face carefully. He squeezes his eyes shut, but then visibly relaxes, letting out a shaky breath. “Keep going, H.”
Harry furrows his brows, concentrating, loving the way Louis can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. He slowly drives in a second finger, twisting them in and out, and Louis moans deep in his throat.
“Feels good,” he murmurs, pushing his hips down to meet Harry’s fingers.
Harry’s mouth is completely dry. “Want another finger?”
“Gimme a minute, yeah,” he says, eyes closing shut again.
He can’t stop watching the way his fingers are sliding in and out of Louis so easily, and he has to take a deep breath. He's already completely hard again. “Lou, you look so good, you have no idea.”
Louis whines. “Another finger.”
Harry obliges, working in a third, and when he crooks his fingers when they’re fully inside, Louis’ legs jerk involuntarily, jaw slack, cock blurting out precome from where it’s standing straight up.
“Fuck, Harry, right there,” Louis chokes out, gripping the sheets beneath him.
Harry’s encouraged, working his fingers repeatedly over the same spot inside of Louis, mesmerized by Louis’ reaction. He feels like his heart could burst by the time Louis finally says, “Okay, okay, fuck me, yeah?”
Harry pulls his fingers out and straddles himself over Louis, dipping down to kiss him. Louis opens his mouth immediately, tongue sliding into Harry’s mouth, hands gripping at his curls. Harry pulls away to suck a bruise into Louis’ neck, and Louis starts squirming underneath him.
“Please, Harry, want you so bad, I’ll give you anything, whatever you want, just…”
Harry can’t get the condom on fast enough, pouring way too much lube into his hand, stroking his cock harshly. “Baby, I’ll give it all to you.” He hovers over Louis, gripping his cock and starts to push into Louis from above him. He’s so bloody tight, and Harry has to resist the urge to thrust all the way in immediately.
Below him, Louis is biting at his bottom lip again, squeezing Harry’s sides, breath coming in short and quickly. Harry can tell he’s uncomfortable by the way he’s barely moving, the way his gaze won’t meet Harry’s.
“Baby, are you okay?”
Louis lets out a whimper. “You’re big.”
Harry snorts. “Do you want me to stop?”
Louis doesn’t say anything, so Harry starts to pull out. “No, no, don’t do that,” Louis demands. “I just need a second, yeah?”
He tries to still, arms wracked with tremors, but nods. “Okay.”
Louis’ breathing eventually steadies out and he starts clenching around Harry. Harry’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head with how good it feels. Louis kicks at his back and smirks, and Harry takes that as his cue to start moving.
If the first thrust is any indication of how amazing this will feel, Harry is ill prepared. He knows he isn’t going to last long - damn Louis for being right about his 16-year-old stamina - but he doesn’t want it to be over before it gets good for Louis, too.
He figures he’s doing okay when he changes the angle of his thrusts and Louis shrieks. “Harry, there, please, there,” he pleads.
Harry goes double time, trying to hit that spot over and over, a sheen of sweat covering his chest and back, making it impossible for Louis to hold on. Louis whimpers, throwing his head back, and Harry has to lean down to lick a stripe over the blooming red spot from his mouth earlier. The noise Louis makes is absolutely pornographic, and that’s just about it for Harry, his stomach contracting before he’s anywhere near ready.
“Lou, I’m so close,” he breathes out through clenched teeth.
Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, clenching down tightly around Harry’s cock, and whispers in his ear, “C’mon Hazza, come.”
Harry tries to hold back, wants Louis to get there too, but it’s obvious he’s not anywhere near as close as Harry. He lets go after four more thrusts, groaning loudly into Louis’ chest, shaking.
Louis runs his hands up and down Harry’s back, kissing his forehead, and Harry groans again. “Louis,” he mumbles, embarrassed.
“Mmm, what?”
“That was too fast. You were right.”
Louis barks out a laugh. “Harry, if we’re being honest, it was much better than I expected. You lasted, like, a whole two minutes. That’s impressive.”
“Ugh, that’s not helping.” He can feel Louis’ smile against his skin as he slides out but then Louis winces. “Sorry, baby,” he apologizes.
“It’s okay.”
But it’s not okay. Louis is still fully hard, face flushed, and he’s such a picture of beauty, Harry can hardly take it. In one fluid motion, he dips down to push two fingers back inside of Louis, sucking his cock down, the head of it brushing the back of Harry’s throat, and Louis whines high in his throat.
“Harry, Hazza,” he groans, hands pulling at Harry’s tight curls, and Harry can tell he’s already going to come. Harry sucks harder, fingers crooking to rub against Louis’ prostate, and he comes, shooting down Harry’s throat moments later, arching off the mattress and body trembling.
Harry makes his way back up the bed and lets Louis curl his body into Harry’s, sweat cooling. Harry is so happy, so content, is obsessed with his boy.
When they have sex again a few hours later, Harry lasts two and a half minutes.
Progress.
A few months later, Harry’s sat on the couch, watching a film, bag of pretzels between his legs when Louis calls him. His voice is frantic and there’s an unusual amount of shrieking in the background.
“Harry? I need you,” Louis says, breathless.
Harry sits up. “Lou? What’s wrong.”
“I’m watching the girls and normally I have no problem with it but it’s been all day and Mum won’t be home until much later and Daisy started throwing up and I can’t do throw up and Phoebe’s screaming and Fizzy and Lottie won’t stop asking to go to their friends’ houses and Harry. I can’t do it, I can’t--”
“Lou, I’m leaving now. Deep breaths.”
“Hurry.”
He nearly runs out the door.
By the time he walks into the Tomlinson house, Louis has already cleaned up Daisy and Phoebe has stopped screaming, but the house is still a disaster. Harry bribes Fizzy and Lottie with the option of going to their friends’ houses if they clean the kitchen, which they willingly agree to, and he entertains the twins while Louis rummages through the cabinet for any type of medicine to bring down Daisy’s now very evident fever.
It doesn’t take long to calm the chaos once Fizzy and Lottie are out the door. Harry helps Louis put the twins to bed, checking on Daisy’s fever every so often, and once half ten rolls around, he figures they’re both down for the night. He flops down on the couch next to Louis and laces their fingers together.
“You okay?”
Louis squeezes Harry’s hand and drops his head to his shoulder. Harry pulls him in close. “I don’t know what happened. I never have any trouble watching them, ever. They’re my sisters, yeah? I don’t know. I just got really overwhelmed and panicked and the first person I thought of was you.” He traces along Harry’s knuckles. “Thank you.”
He pulls Louis’ hand up to his lips and kisses the back of his hand. “You do a good job with them. They love you so much.”
Louis squishes in closer, draping his legs across Harry’s lap. They sit like that in silence for a bit, Louis with his head on Harry’s chest. Harry imagines Louis can feel how wildly his heart is beating.
Eventually, he leans down to kiss Louis, softly and slowly, and Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, using that as leverage to pull himself up, sitting astride Harry’s hips.
The kiss never gains momentum, though. It remains sweet, and Harry gently runs his hands up and down Louis’ spine. Louis sighs into Harry’s mouth, tongue running along Harry’s lips, and he can’t get enough of how Louis feels beneath his hands.
Eventually, they pull back, and Harry rubs his thumb along Louis’ puffy bottom lip. He’s completely disheveled, a product of a stressful night. His glasses lenses are smudged, his hair is starting to become greasy, his shirt is wrinkled, and the bags under his eyes are deep and purple.
Harry’s breath catches in his throat. His boy is so beautiful.
He leans in and presses his forehead against Louis’s, eyes going crossed when he tries to meet Louis’ gaze. His lips quirk upward when he says, “You could probably use a shower, Lou.”
Louis leans back and rolls his eyes. “You’re a prick. We were having such a nice moment and you had to ruin it with your honesty. I know I look like shit.”
Harry laughs, and leans forward again. “You’re still breathtaking.”
Louis chews on his bottom lip and scrunches up his nose. “If you say so.” He flicks Harry on the forehead and climbs off his lap. “‘m gonna go change. Don’t leave.”
He smiles. “I’ll be right here.”
Harry hasn’t told Louis he loves him yet. Louis has to know, though, Harry figures. He feels like it oozes out with every look, touch, thought… He’s buzzing with how much he loves his boy, and he has to actively stop himself from saying it whenever Louis so much as glances in his general direction. It’s what he’s done for years.
But when Louis reappears a few minute later, face washed and sporting a clean pair of pyjamas, Harry absolutely cannot hold it in any longer. And why should he have to?
Louis sits back down besides Harry, throwing a blanket over their laps, and he reaches for the remote to the telly. “What do you wanna watch? I’m feeling generous. You can pick tonight.”
Harry looks at Louis, almost vibrating out of his seat. “Lou, I’m in love with you.”
Louis’ eyes go wide as he turns to meet Harry’s stare. “Because I’m letting you pick the film?”
Harry knows it’s a cop out, and he would be nervous if this was anyone other than Louis. But it is Louis. And he knows Louis loves him as much as he loves Louis.
Almost as much, anyway.
“You have to know how crazy I am about you. You’re everything. And I’m tired of not telling you. I just… I love you so much. You know that, right?”
Louis doesn’t move for a moment, frozen, but eventually drops the remote onto the couch and pushes Harry down, slipping into the tiny space next to him. He drags his fingers across Harry’s jaw before he leans up to capture Harry’s lips in a deep kiss, and Harry can barely function with how good it feels, with how Louis tastes.
Their mouths move slowly together for a long time, long enough for Harry to be completely hard in his own joggers. He pushes his hips into Louis’, and Louis whines in the back of his throat.
He pulls away, then, and burrows his face into Harry’s neck. Harry almost misses it when Louis murmurs, “I know.”
Harry swallows. “Good.”
Louis kisses sloppily at Harry’s neck, and Harry’s getting restless, needs to feel Louis’ mouth and hands elsewhere. But then Louis sits up and puts his hands on Harry’s waist. The look on his face is so serious, so genuine, that Harry has to close his eyes, opening them when he hears Louis’s voice from above him.
“I love you so fucking much, I can hardly think straight half the time,” Louis whispers, blue eyes sparkling, gaze never wavering.
Harry can’t be helped when he yanks Louis back down, kissing him with everything he has in him.
Harry hates that his family doesn’t know he’s been dating Louis for nearly two years. He knows the conversation might be a bit uncomfortable, (“You know Louis, right? The one that’s been sleeping over in my bed for the past 10 years? Well, we’ve been fucking for two of those years, sorry, it must have slipped my mind to tell you.”) but ultimately decides he wants to do this as soon as possible, even though Louis is extremely hesitant. He reasons with Louis, eventually persuading him to have the same conversation with his family, Harry’s argument being that he’s tired of feeling this guilty whenever Louis spends time around his family, sneaking about. The feeling only gets worse over time, and he’s had it. Louis reluctantly agrees.
He sits down with Gemma on a weekend she’s home from school, figuring she’ll be the easier option. He views it as a practice round, before he gets to the grand finale of telling his parents.
“Okay. Okay, Gemma, I have to tell you something.”
Harry’s sat on her bedroom floor, leaning against her bed. She’s shuffling homework at her desk. “Can it be quick? I have a ton of studying to do.”
“It’ll be quick if you don’t make a big deal about it.”
That grabs her curiosity. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just. I’m dating Louis.” He hadn’t planned on saying it so bluntly, but there it is.
Gemma’s expression doesn’t change. “How is that news to me?”
Harry’s confused. “How is that not news to you?”
“Haven’t you been dating since, like, year six?”
Harry scoffs. “We have not been! It’s only been two years!”
She rolls her eyes. “Are you trying to tell me there’s a difference between the way you and Louis have acted in the past two years versus the past ten?”
“Yes! A big difference!”
Gemma pretends to think for a moment. “Whatever you say, Harry.”
Harry leaves her bedroom completely dumbfounded. So much for Gemma being the easier person to tell.
He tries again the next day with his Mum and Robin.
No time to hem and haw. “Louis and I have been dating for two years.”
Anne smiles. Robin raises an eyebrow. “Been waiting long enough for you to finally come out and tell us,” he says.
Harry throws his hands in the air. “Okay, so everyone knew for years and no one thought it would be a good idea to give me a heads up? So I didn’t feel so fucking nervous?”
“Harry, language,” Anne scolds. “And no, love, that wasn’t our thought process. We just wanted you to be ready to tell us. We didn’t want to say anything before you were comfortable.”
Harry looks down at his lap. It makes sense, and it’s so very Anne of her, that he can’t find it in him to be angry.
“We love Louis. We’ve watched him grow up almost as long as we’ve been watching you,” Anne murmurs. “He’s a lovely boy. He’s family.”
Harry nods. “He feels the same way about us.”
“No secrets, okay, H?”
“Okay.” He pauses. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“Just… Thank you.”
They leave it at that.
Louis’ talk with his own family didn’t go as well. Jay had, of course, known all along, but remained quiet for the same reasons Anne had. It was his sisters, rather, that gave him a hard time, Lottie specifically.
Louis is pacing across Harry’s bedroom, occasionally kicking a pair of socks or a jumper out of the way, cursing.
“I’ve never seen Lottie so mad, you know?” he says incredulously. “She kept saying how I’m a liar and a shit brother. How am I a liar? Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have told anyone.”
Harry takes his time carefully choosing his next words. “I think I can understand where Lottie is coming from,” he says slowly.
Louis spins around, expression raging. “What?”
“Just hear me out, Lou. I get her thinking because I felt like a liar for the past two years, yeah? We ultimately kept it a secret, love, and even though it feels good to get out in the open for us, it might not appear that way to your 10-year-old sister. She probably feels betrayed. I would say that’s a normal reaction to have.”
Louis doesn’t answer.
Harry’s brows furrow. “And now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure why we decided on keeping it a secret for so long. You always shot me down when I said I wanted to talk about it.”
Louis doesn’t say anything to that, either.
“Lou? Did you not want your family to know you’re gay?”
“Christ, Harry, you know they don’t give a fuck about that.”
Harry holds up his hands as a truce. “You don’t have to get so defensive. I’m just trying to figure out why you asked me to put it off for so long. It didn’t seem like a big deal until now.”
“It’s still not a big fucking deal.”
Harry has to hold in a laugh. “I beg to differ.”
Louis sighs in the most exaggerated way possible. “Okay, fine. It’s because I knew Lottie would react this way, and I didn’t want to hurt her.”
“That’s nice, Lou, but I know that’s a cop out.”
“Harry, enough, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Harry is extremely frustrated, but he knows when Louis is in a mood like this, pushing is going to get him absolutely nowhere. He has to play by Louis’ rules in order to win.
“Okay. Conversation dropped.”
Louis crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Harry, eyes squinted, and Harry doesn’t really know what to do now. “Do you, um, wanna watch a film?”
Louis huffs out a breath. “No.”
Harry shifts on his bed, reaching for his laptop at the end of it, and says, “Okay.”
He stands there in the center of Harry’s bedroom for about six more seconds before he walks to the edge of the bed, nudging Harry. “Move.” Harry tries not to smile.
He makes room for Louis on the bed as he scrolls through the list of available films on Netflix and puts his thumb on Louis’ thigh, drawing circles slowly. “Which do you wanna watch, baby?”
“I don’t care.”
“Okay.” He clicks on the comedy section and Louis sighs.
“Well, I care if you plan on picking a shitty film.” He reaches for the laptop and jumps to the drama section, skimming through each summary much too quickly to be able to read anything. After a few minutes, he ends up back in comedies, and clicks on Hot Rod.
Harry pulls Louis in close, still drawing shapes on his thigh, and he kisses behind his ear. Louis hits the spacebar on the laptop rather harshly, pausing the movie.
“I didn’t wanna tell any of our family members that we’re together because I’m constantly fucking terrified that one day, all of this is going to be over. And the idea of having to tell people that we aren’t together anymore makes me sick.” He covers Harry’s hand on his thigh with his own. “In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear, I like you quite a bit, okay?”
Harry was certainly not expecting that. It’s very rare Louis ever opens up first, if at all, so Harry treads lightly. “Louis, love, you were afraid to tell people we were together in the event of a potential breakup in the distant future that neither of us can foresee?”
Louis rolls over. “When you say it like that, you make me sound like such a dickhead.”
“No, Lou, I just want you to hear how silly that sounds. Look at me.” He pulls Louis’ face by his finger under his chin, forcing eye contact. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me? Or us?”
“No, but--”
“I can't predict the future, Louis. I don't know what's going to happen with us. But for as long as I can remember, I have been so in love with you, I can't see straight.” He dips down to kiss him swiftly on the lips. “Don’t take out your fears on Lottie.”
Louis snorts. “You could have ended on the ‘I love you’ part.”
“I love you. I love you so bloody much, it hurts sometimes.”
“Shut up.”
Harry smirks and hits the spacebar to resume the movie. Louis grips his hand immediately after, squeezing tightly. “I love you, too.”