Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Looking around, all Louis can think is that this is definitely not how he envisioned his life. Considering he envisioned most of it spent on a yacht surrounded by shirtless men handing him frilly pink drinks, that’s not surprising. But, still.

Presently, Zayn is upside down. Literally. He is doing a handstand against the front door of their apartment and trying to get Louis to watch as if this is the biggest achievement of his life. Cards on the table though, it could possibly be. Louis is more amused by the fact that there is so much gel in his hair that it isn’t even a little bit affected by gravity, and Zayn’s quiff is perfectly intact.

“Zayn you pathetic excuse for a human being, you have had one beer,” says Louis, standing above Zayn with his hands on his hips.

Zayn scoffs. “That is of no importance, Louis. You said you didn’t think I would be able to do a handstand, and I am doing a handstand. You owe me ten quid.”

Louis resists the temptation to push him over as he says, “What I said was, ‘Zayn, don’t do a handstand, Liam and Niall are coming over soon and I have no time for your tomfoolery right now,’ meaning that I do not owe you anything.”

“Still, I think you should-” Zayn begins with difficulty, as he has been upside down for around five minutes and his face is quite red, but he is thankfully interrupted by a knock on the very door he is leaning against.

“Open up, it’s the police!” comes through the door, followed by giggles.

“Quick Zayn, remove yourself from the door before the other morons we happen to be acquainted with remove you themselves,” Louis says, walking into the kitchen to get a glass of red wine. Zayn dusts his hands off on his pants like he is some kind of olympic gymnast, and then opens the door. Liam and Niall are standing there smiling like the goofballs they are, but at least they come bearing gifts.

“Hello, my children,” says Niall, placing a carton of beers on the table. “Let us get royally trashed and then weep about our lives.”

Louis sips his wine with raised eyebrows. Every Friday night. Every god-damned Friday night the idiots that are his best friends show up and then all four of them get drunk like it’s some kind of tradition. Not that they ever discussed it, it just became a routine. Really, Louis has better things to do with his time rather than drinking cheap beers and fruity wine while discussing the logistics of turtle breeding and things of that nature. Honestly, it’s bad enough that Zayn actually lives with him, but then he has to deal with the whole cavalry fucking up his apartment every Friday.

“Louis Tomlinson, lower those eyebrows and stop being a brat,” says Liam, as he begins to unpack a plastic shopping bag filled with sandwiches that he’s actually made himself and Christ, Louis sometimes does wonder if Liam has had a lot of cosmetic surgery and is really Louis’ forty year old biological father.

“My apologies,” he says through pursed lips. “I'm just tired of you three already.”

“Shit, when was the last time you had the sex?” asks Niall, throwing himself on the couch. Louis sighs. Whenever he is in a bad mood it’s always chalked up to him not getting laid. Personally, he thinks it’s because he’s had enough of these imbeciles showing up every Friday, eating all his food, making a mess, and then leaving. And of course, god forbid Zayn should actually have to clean something, so really, he should be allowed to dread these Friday nights sometimes. Then again, it really has been a long time since he has had the sex.

“Shut up and get your feet off my coffee table,” is all he says, as he goes to sit on the couch next to Niall.

“It’s only six, let’s not discuss Louis’ sexual life yet. I do have tonnes of embarrassing stories for later though, all of which involve thin walls and weird things Louis says in moments of passion. I'm thinking of starting a blog about it, actually,” Zayn says, sitting in one of the mismatched armchairs. Louis groans.

“Have you guys eaten today? God knows the awful care you take of yourselves, here, eat,” Liam says, handing out the damned sandwiches, and Louis knows in his heart of hearts that Liam has a scrapbook of all their past achievements somewhere along with their birth certificates and possibly baby teeth.

“Thanks dad,” Louis says, taking a neatly wrapped sandwich from Liam and feeling his heart melt just a little in spite of himself.

“Be happy that someone feeds you Lou, considering you’re too busy being wrapped up in the misery of your own life to do it yourself,” says Zayn, unwrapping his own sandwich.

“Maybe my life would be less miserable if you were less insane,” he retorts.

“I am not insane,” Zayn says.

“Louis might be a bitter, sexually frustrated, war veteran at the moment, but he’s a correct bitter, sexually frustrated, war veteran,” Niall states, finishing off his beer and standing up to get a new one and Louis could swear he’s only just started the first, but, well, it’s Niall. Before Zayn can respond, they are listing off insane things he has done in the past.

“What about the time you got home at six in the morning covered in rubbish and followed by three baby ducklings?” Louis laughs.

“Or that time you brought a girl back to my apartment and told me that she didn’t know you were gay so you thought I would have sex with her instead?” Niall grins.

“Or what about when-” Liam begins, laughing already, but Zayn interrupts.

“YES, okay, I hear you loud and clear,” he says, sinking back into his chair. Suddenly, Niall’s phone beeps, and after checking the message, he groans.

“What?” asks Liam.

“They want me in to work tonight. Apparently someone’s thrown up on the bar and I seem to be the first person Nick thinks of to cover their shift,” he says sadly.

“As much as I want this night to myself, if you leave, Niall, I will be left with these two, and your share of the alcohol so I suggest you hand over your phone so I can get you out of this,” Louis says, standing up. Liam is okay, but Zayn, no way. Zayn is not one to have a ‘drunken type.’ He can change from horny drunk to emotional drunk to sleepy drunk, and honestly, with Liam around being all sweet and everything, he will most likely be all of the above. Louis definitely does not want to deal with the night alone. So he takes Niall’s phone and calls the number the text came from.

“Hello?” answers a male voice after a few rings.

“Yes, hi, is this Nick Grimmy Grimshaw?” Louis asks, referring to Niall’s boss, who Louis actually quite enjoys.

“Uh, no, he’s helping clean up vomit right now, who’s this?” comes the voice, and actually, who is this because they have a lovely slow gravelly manly voice now that Louis hears it properly.

“This would be Louis Tomlinson, good friend of Niall Horan. To whom am I speaking with?” Louis replies.

“Oh, uh, this is Harry?” he says, as if he is unsure of who he is and what is going on right now. Louis wants him to say more words.

“Well, Harry, I have a bone to pick with you-” Louis begins, because that’s right, this phone call was supposed to be preventing him from having to watch Zayn pining after Liam all night alone, but the phone is snatched from his ear by a laughing Niall.

“Harry?” he says into the phone. “Yeah, hey mate, listen, I really don’t think I can come in tonight, is Nick around? Thanks mate.” 

After a five minute phone call in which Niall explains how he is already very drunk and much too incapacitated to possibly even think about working tonight, he hangs up with a smile. He promptly throws himself down onto the couch and puts his feet up on Louis’ coffee table again, happily announcing that Nick is, in fact, the best boss ever.

“Hey Nialler,” Louis says, apparently still lost in the phone call from a few minutes ago.

“Yeah Lou?”

“Who was that boy on the phone and is he as attractive as he sounds? To put it bluntly,” he adds as an afterthought.

Niall chuckles. “Harry?”

“I’m assuming so.”

“Harry’s a mate of mine from high school, in the year below me. He’s just moved to London around two weeks back, I think,” Niall says, eating the other half of Louis’ sandwich. “I got him the job at the bar with me so he could keep up with his rent but I think he’s struggling a bit.”

“Niall, please address the more important half of my question,” Louis sighs. Incompetence, he thinks. He says it too.

Niall laughs again. “He’s a good-looking lad, yes, Louis,” he says.

“I’m going to need more than that,” he says, pouring himself more wine.

“Christ Lou, what’s with the third degree?” Zayn asks. “If you’d like I think I can rustle up a couple of pigs for your dowry.”

Niall is simply a bucket of laughter tonight. “Um, he’s got curly hair and he’s like, freakishly tall, uh, he’s got a bunch of tattoos, chiseled abs, tall dark and handsome, likes piña coladas, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Sounds like your type, Lou,” says Liam, half-jokingly, because he absolutely does not. Boys who have tattoos and are tall and manly and have deep gravelly voices are sure to be trouble. Louis does not do boys who are trouble. And yes, sure, Louis may have many a tattoo himself, however, they are mostly the result of drunken nights out with Zayn, who is a terrible influence.

“Darn it,” Louis says. Because, really, darn it. Niall is no longer interested, nor paying attention to the conversation. He is too busy attempting to convince Zayn to eat the entire rotten watermelon from out of the fridge. It’s hardly even seven.

Louis Tomlinson, this is your life.

☀☀☀

Louis wakes up the next morning in his bed wedged in between Zayn and an empty wine bottle. No, sorry, make that two empty wine bottles and a half-bottle of vodka. When did he start drinking vodka? Probably around the same time Niall Horan came into his life. As soon as he sits up he regrets the decision immediately. Christ. It’s not that every Friday he gets royally pissed and wakes up feeling like shit and then has to drag himself to an afternoon shift. It’s really not. He swears it. It’s not. Okay, maybe it is a little. But whatever. He’s accustomed.

He drags himself to the shower and throws himself on the floor. He literally does not bother to wash any part of him. He simply lets the water metaphorically wash away his bad life decisions and metaphorically watches them flow down the drain along with a lot of dirt. Literal dirt. Did he go outside last night? Curse his friends.

When he gets out of the shower he sees on the hall clock that it’s eight in the morning. Oh vengeful god, why must you punish him in this way? His life is a travesty. He walks back into his room and starts getting dressed in his stupid dumb work clothes. He puts on his stupid dumb black denim three-quarter pants and his stupid dumb white button up t-shirt and does his stupid hair in the mirror and maybe or maybe not spends a stupid half-hour on it.

Once Louis’ somewhat satisfied with his appearance, he heads to the kitchen. What he had failed to notice previously, he now almost trips over. “Niall, you fucking idiot,” he says, kicking the half naked blond boy in the leg as he reaches to turn the kettle on. “Mmph,” Niall responds. He always was the intellect of the group.

“Get off the fucking floor, you useless sod,” Louis says. Niall ignores him of course, but he didn’t expect anything different. Louis makes himself a coffee and some toast without butter because apparently they can’t afford butter anymore. Then he watches trash TV and wallows in his misery until eleven thirty, because he unfortunately does have a job to get to in half an hour. He gets his wallet (empty except for a coupon for half price milk) and his phone (no missed calls or texts, surprise surprise) and heads downstairs.

Neither of his useless friends have woken up when he leaves, which isn’t a surprise to him. He’ll be lucky if they’re awake by the time he gets home after work. He walks to the little coffee shop and there’s Liam, behind the counter grinning at him like an idiot. Louis doesn’t even look at him as he he grabs his apron and ties it around his waist. He slides in behind the counter and rests his face on his arms. There’s no customers. This comes as no surprise.

“Afternoon, darling,” Liam says.

“Don’t,” Louis replies.

“Don’t what?” asks Liam.

“Speak,” Louis grunts.. Liam laughs. Louis’ head still aches and he is in no mood for Liam’s sunshiny persona.

The next few hours pass by with a grand total of seven customers, a phone call from Greg telling them to make sure to bloody lock up this time, and one ruined pavlova (it was Liam who had provoked Louis into throwing it at the wall. Really, he can not be held accountable). By six o’clock Louis is laying on the countertop and drawing circles in the air with his fingertip while Liam sweeps the floors for the third time. However, the bell above the door rings, and Louis jerks upright before realizing that it’s only Niall and- Oh.

“Working hard, I see, boys,” he says as he walks up to the countertop, followed by a boy Louis has never met before but has a sneaking suspicion he already knows because curly hair, freakishly tall, a bunch of tattoos.

“I take it this is Harry?” he says. And, well, that was bold. Louis’ never really been able to actually formulate words around beautiful boys so-

“Sure is,” Niall is saying. “Harry, that’s my mate Liam.” Oh right. Of course he didn’t say it. Liam did. The one with an actual brain inside his skull, rather than pebbles like Louis seems to have.

“Liam, Harry Styles.”

“Good to meet you, man,” Liam says, leaning over a table to shake Harry’s hand.

“Yeah, you too, heard a lot about you,” replies Harry, and Louis needs a moment because his voice is even better in person. Slow and deep and steady and gravelly and Louis may need more than just a moment.

“Good things I hope,” Liam laughs, and Niall smacks him upside the head.

“Obviously! Dolt,” he says, his laughter booming throughout the entire shop. Which, in it’s entirety, isn’t actually that large. “Anyway,” he continues. “This one’s Louis, you spoke to him on the phone, I think.”

“Ooh,” Harry says, grinning widely as he reaches a hand towards Louis. “So you’re the phone guy.”

“That would be me, ring ring,” Louis laughs nervously. He is literally moments away from smashing his head through the display case. Dear God, let the next words out of his mouth not be nearly as stupid as that. Unfortunately, it seems God doesn’t listen, because Louis then proceeds to say, “You’re certainly a good phone answering guy.”

Niall honestly nearly pisses himself at this. “Louis you fucking idiot,” he says, gasping for air. Truly the words of a dear friend. But Harry’s laughing too, and even Liam’s giggling in the corner. Louis doesn’t know whether to laugh along or to murder all three of them.

“You’re a good phone calling guy, I suppose,” Harry says somewhat uncertainly, but he’s still laughing and Niall failed to mention those dimples, but hey, there they are. What a world.

“I’m better at making coffee than I am at making conversation, I swear,” he says, trying to redeem himself a little.

“You certainly are,” says Niall. “Which is why we’ve come here on our way to work. Also to thank you for letting me sleep on your kitchen floor.”

“You could have slept on the couch, you moron,” Louis says, rolling his eyes as he goes towards the coffee machine. He earns another small laugh from Harry. He might start a tally. “What do you want?”

“Espresso for me,” Niall says.

“I’ll have a long black please,” says Harry. He said please. The only people who ever say please to him are kids, old people, and naked boys. He’d like to put Harry in the last category, though. He bets Harry’s a ‘please’ kinda guy.

Louis makes their coffees, charges them, and sends the two on their merry way before collapsing onto the counter. He groans as he recounts the conversation in his mind. Liam sits in one of the chairs and faces him, trying not to laugh. He’s not doing very well, but it’s more than he’d get from Zayn, at least.

“A good phone answering guy,” Louis repeats, his face buried in his arms. “Liam, euthanize me.”

“Good to see you all flustered over a lad, Lou,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

Louis looks up and Liam’s got that genuine sort of smile and those soft eyes and Louis just groans again. “A dangerous lad,” he says.

“You don’t know that,” Liam replies.

“You can always tell, Liam,” he says back. Because you can. And Harry Styles is definitely trouble.

“Go home, Lou, I’ll lock up,” Liam sighs, patting him on the back. Louis wants to hug him. He doesn’t though, because that would upset his pride. So he huffs and walks out the door.

It doesn’t shut fast enough for him to not hear Liam’s laughter from inside.

Prick.

Chapter Text

It’s a rainy Saturday and Louis’ wishing he was at home asleep, rather than standing behind a counter and playing games on his phone. Liam had given up about half an hour ago to go on his lunch break, because they’d barely had three customers the whole day. ‘Barely’ because the last guy came in for the loo and ended up buying a scone, which counts. Sadly, this was the most exciting point of Louis’ day. 

When the sound of the tinkly bell floats through the room, Louis looks up expecting Liam back, maybe with a sandwich or some chips for him. But, no. Instead of a generous, caring, food-bearing Liam, life has presented him with a damp, gloomy, empty-handed Zayn. He practically drags himself into the shop and drops down into a chair. Louis ignores him. He can’t do this forever though, as Zayn begins to groan louder and louder until Louis has to acknowledge his presence.

“Hello Zayn,” he sighs. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Zayn mumbles. 

“What is it, darling?” Louis says, not looking up from his game of bejeweled. 

“Is Liam here?” Zayn asks.

Louis rolls his eyes. Zayn knows damn well that Liam isn’t here or he wouldn’t have even come in the first place. “No, Zayn, he’s not. The Romeo to your Juliet is not here. The Ross to your Rachel. The Ron to your Hermione. The Jack to your Rose. The Jaime to your Cersei. The-”

“That last one was a bit weird,” says Zayn.

“I couldn’t think of any others, if I’m honest,” says Louis back. “Are you going to order something?”

“Just make me a caramel frappuccino,” says Zayn. This isn’t Starbucks. They don’t serve caramel frappuccinos. Snooty bastard. Louis makes him a latte. He won’t be able to tell the difference anyway. “Any reason you’re looking particularly despondent today?” asks Louis as he sets about making Zayn’s coffee.

“Writers block,” says Zayn. Louis rolls his eyes again. “What’s another word for like, really emotional?”

“I don’t know,” says Louis. “Crazy emotional?”

“Rhapsodic,” says Zayn, ignoring Louis completely. The tinkly bell sounds again and Louis looks over his shoulder to see Liam walking in with nothing for Louis in his hands. Louis loses interest at this discovery. Zayn, however, seems to perk up entirely, checking his hair in the reflection on his phone. 

“Hey Zayn!” Liam says excitedly, in his typical cheery puppy-dog voice. “How are you?”

“Yeah, good, thanks Liam,” Zayn says, practically falling to the floor to lick the ground which Liam has just stepped on. Louis gags as he wipes down the coffee machine and gets back on the counter. 

“Good to hear,” Liam smiles, and Louis wonders if Zayn needs to change his pants yet. 

“Actually, I think I’m going to head off now,” says Zayn, standing up. Louis would assume that he’s going home to wank over Liam’s big brown eyes or something, but he knows that Zayn is really going to go home and write about fifty seven poems about the way Liam’s shirt was slightly creased today. Louis’ not sure which is worse.

“Oh,” Liam says, somewhat disappointedly. “Alright, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“See you tonight,” Zayn replies, walking out the door all flustered. Liam gets to wiping the display cases while Louis just stares at him in disgust. It takes about five minutes before Liam notices.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“Where the fuck are you going tonight?” Louis asks, wondering why he hasn’t heard about this. He likes to think he knows about every single thing that goes on in everyone’s life. Besides Zayn of course, because he’s sure that he knows every detail of Zayn’s life. Zayn likes to text him when he takes a shit just to make sure Louis doesn’t wonder where he’s gone. He’s got about one hundred and seventeen texts on his phone from Zayn saying, ‘don’t worry lou, just pooping, not kidnapped xx.’ It’s disgusting.

“The bar,” Liam says, frowning. “Didn’t Niall tell you?”

“No,” Louis replies angrily. 

“Are you sure?” asks Liam. “Check your phone.”

“Did he text?” asks Louis.

“Yeah, I think he sent a group message out,” Liam replies. 

“Oh, makes sense, I blocked his number on Wednesday,” Louis says, realizing. 

“Why?” asks Liam. 

“He kept sending me shirtless pictures of himself and asking me which one was better,” says Louis. Liam loses it at that. 

They go on ‘working’ and Louis learns that they’re all supposed to meet at the bar where Niall works at around eight for drinks. Louis knows Harry will be there. He knows and he’s ready and he’s totally not going to do anything at all sexual because that would be bad and just for extra measures Louis has asked Zayn to keep an eye on him. His thoughts are a jumble. Especially since he’s asking Zayn, of all people to look after him. Zayn’s about as useless as the first slice of bread, really. 

Louis wears a grey T-shirt with a blue denim jacket and black skinny jeans. He steals a pair of Zayn’s converse because they match the outfit, and then he spends a really unnecessary amount of time on his hair. Once he’s sure he’s ready, he sits on the couch, ready to watch TV for the hour that it will take Zayn to get ready.

“Louis, hurry up, we’re half an hour late!” Zayn yells an hour and a half later, emerging from his bedroom.

“I’m right here, you fucking dildo,” says Louis, sighing. Zayn looks at him and raises his eyebrows.

“Well?” he asks. “What are you just sitting there for?”

“For fucks sake,” Louis says, getting up. They go downstairs and walk a block to the bus stop. After ten minutes or so the bus shows up and the two of them get on and sit at the back. It’s fairly empty except for a couple of young girls near the front and an old man sleeping in the middle. 

It’s a nice night, and Louis likes that the city looks good for once. He thought it would be glamorous, for lack of a better word, when he moved here, but he soon found out it was somewhat… Well, not glamorous. There was an overabundance of chavs, an extremely high population of meth dealers (especially near his place), and if he left his clothes drying on the balcony then they’d get stolen. He’s not sure how, but they would.

Tonight though, Louis thinks, you wouldn’t be able to tell. It’s like his very first night in the city. When all the blinking lights made him feel like he could live forever. When he had hopes and dreams and aspirations. A time before he knew Zayn Malik, he thinks, when he looks over to see Zayn checking himself for boogers. 

When the two of them arrive at the pub, they’re an hour late, but it doesn’t matter. They walk in to find Liam sitting in their usual booth by himself, staring at his phone. The place is fairly busy, but Louis knows this is when the afternoon shift ends, so it’s only going to get busier. It’s pretty popular for a kind of dingy hole-in-the-wall sort of place, and Louis’ glad to get free drinks because of Niall. 

“Hey Li,” says Zayn. The nickname sounds unnatural in his mouth, as if he’s trying to force it. Louis knows that what Zayn really wants to call Liam is wildly inappropriate. 

“Thank Christ you guys are here,” Liam says exasperatedly, pulling them into a hug. 

“How long have you been sitting here?” Louis asks, trying to uphold the awkward, over-the-table three-way hug.

“Forty minutes,” says Liam. “Niall doesn’t finish work for another half hour.”

“I thought he said meet here at eight,” Zayn says.

“He did,” Liam says. “I don’t know why.”

“You know Niall,” says Louis, rolling his eyes. “Ever the unreliable friend.”

“What did you call me?” comes a voice, and the three of them turn to see Niall standing behind them with a tray of drinks in his hand. “Would an unreliable friend bring you free drinks?”

“Yes, probably to make up for being unreliable,” says Louis, taking one anyway and sitting down in the booth. Niall puts the other ones down on the table before returning to work, saying he really will be done soon, but Nick’s got him running around after the usual early night drunks. He also mentions, as he walks away, that Harry has just run home to change and will be back in about fifteen minutes. 

“Don’t,” Louis says as soon as Niall leaves, his head whipping around to Liam and Zayn so fast he swears he gets whiplash. 

“Don’t what?” asks Zayn innocently.

“Zayn, I swear on my life, do not embarrass me tonight,” Louis says. “You either Liam.”

“Louis, when have I ever embarrassed you before?” Zayn asks.

“What about when you accidentally tried crystal meth and punched a hole in the wall while Louis was sleeping with that guy Ryan?” asks Liam. 

“Never remind me of that night,” Louis says. “Ryan clenched so hard I swear my dick nearly fell off.”

Zayn and Liam look at him in horror for a few seconds. “What the fuck, Lou,” Zayn says, more of a statement than a question. 

“Overshare?” asks Louis.

“Overshare,” Liam and Zayn respond in unison.

“Right,” says Louis. “Let’s get fucking drunk then.”

They skull their drinks no problem and then they’re making Niall bring them new ones. “You assholes better not be drunk before I’m finished here,” Niall says when he places the drinks on the table. He goes back to work and the three of them take it a little more slowly this time. 

Sometimes it’s funny how things work out, Louis thinks. As in, the mind is a powerful thing. There’s dejavu and lucid dreams and at the exact same time that his name pops into Louis’ head, Harry enters the bar. It’s uncanny, really, and it just affirms Louis’ belief that the two of them have a deep connection and are, in fact, soul mates. Or, you know, not. Because that would be weird and all. 

“Hi guys,” Harry smiles sweetly, sliding into the booth next to Louis, so close that their knees are touching and if Louis really wanted to, he could reach out and touch Harry’s anything. He could touch Harry’s anything. He’s not going to, though. He really isn’t. Maybe later.

“Hey Harry, how are you mate?” asks Liam.

“Yeah, not too bad, just glad work’s over,” says Harry. 

“Aren’t we all?” Louis says, laughing insanely breathily. Like the way that serial killers do. God, what the fuck? Why? Honestly. 

“I suppose so,” Harry says. He turns his face to smile at Louis, real big and genuine, and it’s like, Louis’ seen a lot of smiles in his life (after all he is exceedingly hilarious), but this one. Wow. It’s all dimply and big and just. Just wow. 

Niall does, eventually, finish work, and because he is just over giving a shit, he doesn’t bother going home to change. So he sits down with them in his smelly work clothes and brings them more drinks, and they all just get royally pissed, for a change. 

Louis can’t take his eyes off Harry. He really can’t, and he’s worried about it, mostly because Harry can’t take his eyes off Louis either. Louis keeps looking to Zayn for help, but he’s busy trying to carve his name into the table with his fingernail, all because Niall said he wouldn’t be able to. Ridiculous. 

“So, how long have you been in London?” Harry asks, and it’s the first time he’s spoken to just Louis all night, and Louis likes it so much. Because Harry turns to him and lowers his head a little so they’re almost the same height and he says it softly but loud enough so that no one else can hear. Louis’ reading way too much into it. 

“Not long,” Louis replies in the same quiet tone. “A few years.”

“I’ve only been here about a month,” Harry replies. “I’d like to get Niall to show me around, but he’s a bit rubbish with places.”

“He is,” says Louis. “That’s what you get when you do nothing but drink.” 

Harry laughs, and he’s laughing too loud and too happily for something that wasn’t even remotely funny. Louis supposes it can only be because of three reasons. Either he’s drunk, he wants to fuck Louis, or he just really is genuinely like that. Louis then decides that it’s hopefully just a combination of all three. 

“What about you?” Harry asks. “You know the place?”

“Yeah, mostly,” says Louis, and he figures, what the fuck? Right? He might as well go for it. What harm can showing Harry around do? Probably a lot, but whatever. “I could give you a tour.” 

“Took you long enough to offer,” Harry smiles, and then suddenly Louis’ aware of how close they actually are to each other. He can smell whatever cologne Harry’s wearing, and he tells himself, scoot back, move a little, stop looking at his lips. But it’s hard, it’s really really hard.

“I’ll give you my number,” says Louis, then, because if he’s going to fuck up his life by getting involved with a boy who looks like trouble, he might as well just go for it. 

“Thanks,” says Harry, typing the numbers in his phone as Louis says them out. “I’ll give you a ring. You’re a good phone answering guy.”

Louis pauses for a second, confused, before he remembers the horrific events of the weekend before when they met in the coffee shop. “Fuck me,” says Louis in frustration, feeling his face go red. Well, redder anyway. The alcohol is getting to him.  

“Don’t worry about it, it was cute,” Harry grins. And well, fuck. Fuck, it was cute. It was fucking cute. Cute, fuck, fuck, cute. Fuck. 

“You were the phone answering guy, anyway,” is all Louis can think to say. “I was the phone calling guy.”

“Don’t push it,” says Harry. Louis laughs. 

Another hour passes and it’s late and they’re drunk, and so Zayn decides he wants to leave. When Zayn starts shouting at Louis that he wants to go home because it’s one in the morning, it’s the first time that Louis’ looked away from Harry’s face in a while. It’s really kind of a shock that the rest of the world exists, to be honest. 

They all get up to let Louis and Zayn out of the booth and Liam hugs them and Niall throws himself at them and then Zayn falls over so Louis has to take him out of the room quickly but before he can go, Harry’s there in Louis’ space again. “I’ll ring you, yeah?” he smiles, all big droopy eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Yeah,” Louis smiles back, feeling like the biggest goofball in the entire world. But it doesn’t matter because Harry’s hugging him goodbye and he’s warm and he smells nice and he squeezes a little and Louis thinks he might go into cardiac arrest to be completely honest. 

When they finally leave, Louis and Zayn decide to take a cab, since the bus seems like a big risk for people as inebriated as the two of them. The taxi driver is nice to them, and he lets them off when they only have ten quid and can’t make up the rest with coins. 

“Fuck, I’m so fucking hungry,” says Zayn, storming into the kitchen. He tends to get aggressive when he’s drunk. Well, sometimes. Zayn gets all kinds of ways when he’s drunk.

“I’m dead inside,” says Louis, dropping down onto the floor by the dining table. Zayn decides that they have no food (which they really don’t) and he takes his poetry notebook and a pen out to the balcony, stepping over Louis and leaving the door open. 

“What’s a good way to say, ‘why don’t you fucking love me back you insolent bastard,’?” Zayn asks.

“Um,” is all Louis says. Zayn doesn’t speak for a while. He lights up a cigarette while Louis just groans on the floor, trying to demand Zayn’s attention by sounding like a half-dead cat. 

“Lou,” says Zayn after what seems like an hour. “I’ve managed to write something despite your incessant moaning. Would you like to hear it?”

“Not at all, Z,” says Louis. He’s going to hear it whether he likes it or not. Zayn clears his throat. 

“‘Your lips probably taste 

The same way that I feel 

When I-’”

Zayn continues to read but Louis has stopped listening. His phone has buzzed, completely distracting him from the semi-poetic readings of Zayn Malik. He opens the text and it’s from an unknown number. He stares at it for a while before realizing that it’s from Harry and it’s really the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. He feels his heart jump and something stir in his stomach that really makes him wonder if Zayn would notice if he disappeared to have a wank.

“Did you like it?” asks Zayn.

“Zayn, something important came up and you lost me long ago,” says Louis. 

“What?” asks Zayn somewhat indignantly. 

“I have fallen in love.”

“You met Harry a week ago,” Zayn points out.

“Go fuck yourself, Zayn Malik, I’m excruciatingly intoxicated,” says Louis. He stares down at the message again and groans.

‘to be honest, u haev 1 of the nicest faces ive ever seen. im drunk. love harry xxxxx”

Time for bed, Louis thinks.

Chapter Text

Two weeks pass and Louis never stops texting Harry. He knows, as he does it, that he’s being stupid, and he’s doing exactly what he told himself he wouldn’t, but whatever. Whatever, whatever, whatever. Which, incidentally, is the same thing Louis says to Zayn every time he brings up Louis and Harry. But he never brings it up like Louis and Harry. More like, LouisandHarry. Like that. It’s annoying. Louis wishes he would just go back to writing shitty poems about Liam. 

Either way, it’s a Friday. It’s a Friday so that means that they’re all going to be at Louis’ apartment in a couple of hours to get drunk. He’s really not looking forward to it. He’s really not. He kind of is. Just a little. But he didn’t tell Liam that when Liam left over an hour ago to get groceries. He says he’s going to cook them all a big dinner. Louis wonders how soon it will be until Liam starts donating his semen just so that his children will be out in the world somewhere. 

Events in life lately seem to begin with the tinkly bell, Louis thinks, and today is no different. He’s just mopping up the cafe and he’s trying to mop this one stain really aggressively so that he doesn’t have to get a cloth and wipe it when he hears the bell. “We’re closed,” he says as he turns around, but then he’s looking straight at Harry and it’s a bit like, oh. Okay. Hi.

“Maybe you should put the closed sign on,” says Harry, walking into the shop.

“We don’t have one,” says Louis. 

“Why not?” asks Harry, sitting on one of the couches in the corner. 

“Because Zayn stole it long ago and Greg hasn’t been bothered to buy a new one,” says Louis. He’s trying not to look at Harry too much because he’s a bit like a solar eclipse. You can’t look directly at him or it’s really going to cause you lasting physical damage. 

“Why would Zayn steal a closed sign?” asks Harry. He’s sitting cross-legged on the couch and looking at Louis like he’s actually genuinely interested in the bumbling antics of Zayn Malik. Louis can’t stand it. He really can’t.

“Why would Zayn buy a tortoise and then pawn it for a limited edition of a jigsaw puzzle?” Louis asks. “Nobody knows. It’s part of the mystery.”

Harry loses it and Louis feels that familiar pride swell up in him, the kind that he only ever feels when he makes Harry laugh. It’s a bit similar to the one he feels when he makes someone cum, but more on that later. 

“You can pawn a turtle?” he asks, breathing heavily.

“Tortoise,” Louis corrects.

“Oh, right, because that makes a difference,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. He gets up and takes the mop off of Louis, who is still struggling with the one stain. He rests it against the display case and picks up a cloth that Louis had discarded long ago by the till.

“It does make a difference,” says Louis, watching Harry get down and start to wipe the floor. Louis wants to point out that that cloth is for the glass and should probably not be used on the floor for hygiene reasons, but he doesn’t because Harry looks lovely. 

“Thanks,” Louis says when Harry stands up. 

“No worries,” says Harry. “I got tired of watching you dick about with the mop.”

“You call it dicking about, but I call it my career,” says Louis. “What are you doing here anyway? Niall’s not around.”

“I came to visit you,” says Harry, frowning a little as if Louis is mad to even think that he had any other motive for arriving at the coffee shop. Louis needs to take a moment to compose himself before he responds. 

“I’ve got to lock up,” says Louis, walking to the door, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“I’ll help you,” says Harry.

“No it’s fine,” says Louis. He leans over and flicks the lock closed. “See, done.” 

He smiles and tries not to look stupid as he walks over to sit at his usual spot on the counter. He’s dangling his legs over the side and trying not to stare at Harry, but Harry’s staring at him, so it’s like, why should he resist? 

“I can’t believe you did that all on your own, to be honest,” says Harry. “I really wouldn’t have minded helping.”

Louis laughs. “I know it’s a lot of physical labour, but at least it helps me get in shape,” he replies, smacking his tummy gently.

“I think you look perfect,” says Harry, smiling, and Louis isn’t quite sure he heard that right. He kind of wants to say ‘huh?’ just so that Harry repeats it because, wow, perfect. Louis’ perfect. Harry’s perfect. This is a perfect moment. 

“You’re mad,” says Louis, and when did Harry get so close? Did that happen? Is Louis awake? 

“You’re madder,” says Harry, reaching up to softly poke Louis in the nose. Louis feels himself blush bright red and he can’t believe how adorable Harry is. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Harry’s not trouble. Bad mean boys don’t poke your nose and call you perfect. Do they? 

Louis doesn’t really know what to say because Harry’s in his space again and Louis can smell him and he smells like cookies and roses and rain and all these other lovely things. He feels like he should say something, break the tension. Stop whatever is about to happen because he knows that this is going somewhere.

“So, I never showed you around the city,” he says, and he really doesn’t mean to say it so low and quiet while looking at Harry’s lips, but things happen. 

“I don’t care,” says Harry. “I just wanted your number.”

Louis goes an even deeper shade of red at this and Harry’s so close that Louis can feel his breath on his face and it’s a bit like wow. Louis’ stomach is going in circles and he’s feeling a little bit sick but at the same time all he wants to do is close the gap between them and just kiss, just do it, just let it happen. At the same time, though, he doesn’t think he should. He should just not kiss Harry. He should just push him away and run out the back door away from the most perfect boy he’s ever seen in his life because that’s the sensible thing to do. That’s the way to not get your heart broken. 

“Lou,” Harry whispers, and it’s like, oh, okay, that’s a nickname. It sounds better on Harry’s lips than on anyone else’s and Louis feels like it’s the magic word because it makes him do the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life: he nods his head and lets his eyes flit up to Harry’s before back down to his lips.

And, well, that’s it. That does it. They’re kissing and it’s slow and careful and Harry’s lips taste like fucking strawberries, for Christ’s sake, but did Louis really expect anything different? And when Harry lets his tongue wander over Louis’ lips it hasn’t been long but it seems like it took him forever. And suddenly Louis’ got his hands on the back of Harry’s neck and Harry’s got his hands on Louis’ lower back and it’s just kind of wow. 

Louis finally realizes what he’s doing when Harry bites his lip. It’s not like it’s a bad thing, because it’s really not. It’s a wonderful thing and Louis is trying his hardest not to get a boner or something stupid like that, and it’s really this thought that brings him back to reality. He doesn’t do something awful like push Harry off and jerk away real quick. He just kind of, lets the kiss end. He brings his head back and looks at Harry and he bites his own lip. 

“Um, I should probably finish up here,” he says. 

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Harry says, kind of breathlessly and red faced. His lips are all pink and wet and Louis wants to kiss them some more but he knows he shouldn’t. “Do you need some help?” 

“No, no, I’ve just got to clean the coffee machine and then I’m done,” says Louis.

“Okay, well I’ll see you later tonight anyway,” says Harry. Louis frowns.

“What?” he asks.

“Oh, um,” Harry begins, a little embarrassed, and it’s adorable. “I mean, Niall told me you guys are having something tonight and he said I should come? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want me there because it’s your house and all but-”

“Harry,” Louis interrupts, smiling like an idiot because he’s just so fucking endearing. “Of course you can come. I’ll see you at seven.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” says Harry, and he turns away all rosy-cheeked and kind of rushes to the door and then fumbles with the lock before going and waving goodbye to Louis.

☀☀☀

“Well?” asks Zayn, as soon as Louis steps in to the room. Louis looks up in panic. Zayn knows. Zayn knows he kissed Harry and he’s going to give him grief until the cows come home. He’s going to tell him that he shouldn’t have done it and Louis’ going to cry and that’s really not appropriate when they have guests coming soon. 

“What?” asks Louis shakily, playing dumb. Pretending Zayn doesn’t know. How could he know? Did Harry tell Niall? And then Niall would have told Liam, and then Liam would have told Zayn and now everyone knows and Louis’ going to get in trouble.

“Don’t play stupid with me,” says Zayn. Louis just stares at him. Nothing happened. Nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing at all happened. 

“I’m not,” says Louis, even though he is. 

“You fucking forgot to buy lemons, didn’t you?” Zayn says, and what? This is about lemons, of all fucking things? 

“Oh, for fucks sake, Z,” says Louis, walking past Zayn into the apartment. He relaxes. Of course Harry didn’t tell anyone. Why would he? It’s no one’s business. And what does it even matter is Zayn or anyone else knows? Louis supposes he may have overreacted slightly. 

“Lou, lemons were the only thing I asked for!” Zayn says, and well, shit, now he’s going to go into some ridiculous spiel about how Louis doesn’t appreciate him and never listens to him and all that shit. Louis decides to pretend it’s not happening and just goes to his room to shower. Zayn follows him, however, and talks at him through the door. It’s ridiculous. What if he was trying to have a wank? It would have been completely ruined by Zayn’s incessant complaints. 

“Fuck off Zayn, you prick,” Louis says exasperatedly, shampoo in his hair.

“See, this is what I’m talking about Lou, you never listen,” Zayn says, and then he’s off again. 

When Louis gets out of the shower, Zayn is gone, off doing something in the living room, and so that’s a plus. Louis gets dressed, and so what if he puts in a little more effort than he normally would? Whatever, it’s not like it’s because Harry’s coming. It’s really not. He’s just having a good day and he wants to look nice and who is he kidding of course it’s because Harry’s coming why else would he even bother? 

He puts on a pair of denim shorts that go to his knees and a loosely fitted black muscle tee that he thinks he stole from Niall, but he’s really not too sure. He doesn’t put too much effort into his hair because then the other boys would know that he was dressing up for Harry. Which he is. And he feels better about it now that he’s admitted it to himself. Not really, though. He feels a little sick. 

When he comes back into the living room, it’s exactly 6:45 on the dot, and so Zayn is having his first drink of the night. Louis pushes past him and goes to the cupboard and pretends that he’s a fancy rich man with a wine cupboard, whereas in all honesty he’s pulling a cheap bottle of fruity wine out of the cupboard where they keep the plates. But whatever. No big loss. He’s still going to get drunk. 

He pours himself some wine in a plastic cup because Zayn somehow managed to smash every single glass that they own over a period of one month, and they are way too poor to buy new ones, especially if they want to keep drinking themselves to death. So what if Louis has to drink wine out of a McDonalds Jimmy Neutron cup from about 10 years ago? He’ll survive. 

It’s almost seven thirty when the cavalry arrives and by then Zayn is trying to balance on one foot on the armrest of the couch. Louis is honestly quite enjoying it, if only because he thinks Zayn is about to fall. But, before it happens, there is a knock on the door and Zayn leaps from the chair and lands straight in front of the door, using it to steady himself. It’s not that Zayn is good at leaping, it’s just that their apartment really is that small. 

“You’re late,” says Zayn, once the door is open. “You’re so exceedingly late.”

“Sorry, but this one had to spend about five hours trying to roast a chicken,” says Niall, pointing to Liam. 

“Why on earth were you roasting a chicken?” asks Louis, from his place in the kitchen where the wine is.

“Because they were out of beef,” says Liam matter-of-factly, walking into the apartment behind Niall, who is carrying a carton of beer, just like every Friday. The last to walk in, somewhat tentatively, is Harry. He’s carrying a bottle of something and he’s got a backpack on, which is adorable, of course. 

“Hi,” he says, smiling at everyone.

Liam immediately joins Louis in the kitchen and starts unpacking the thousands of bags he has brought with him. “Niall, set the table,” he commands.

“Yes dad,” says Niall, taking a swig of beer as he gets to work. 

Harry has followed Liam into the kitchen and he looks at Louis, smiling nervously. “Um, Niall said you like wine,” he says, holding out the bottle in his hands, and okay, wow. Louis takes it and looks at it and Harry’s taken the price sticker off but Louis knows this is the expensive shit. He knows because he walks past it every time he’s in the liquor store and he sheds a metaphorical tear for the luxuries he can not afford. He also knows that Harry can not afford this either, since Niall enjoys filling Louis in on everything he knows about everyone.

“Harry,” says Louis. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s alright,” says Harry. “I just had it lying around in my apartment anyway. I don’t even like wine. It was a gift.”

Louis knows he’s lying and he finds it incredibly adorable, for lack of a better word, and so he just accepts the gesture and pretends to believe what Harry has told him. He doesn’t really know what to say and the butterflies in his stomach are so aggressive that they feel more like hornets, to be honest, so he just hugs Harry and smells him a little, in a non-psychopathic way. 

“Louis can you stop whatever you’re doing for a moment and be helpful, please,” says Liam. Louis smiles at Harry as he lets go, who returns the smile in the gentlest, most timid way, yet at the same time it’s so easy and happy, and Louis feels like dying. 

“What do you want, Liam?” asks Louis, as if speaking is the most difficult thing he’s ever done.

“Could you take some knives and forks to the table, please?” asks Liam, busy doing something with his ridiculous fucking roast chicken. 

“Liam, darling, we do not own anything of the sort,” says Louis honestly. 

“What?” asks Liam, as if Louis has just told him that Niall is dead. 

“Zayn and I eat using plastic forks and spoons that we steal from McDonalds. Or, that Zayn steals from McDonalds,” he adds. He doesn’t steal from McDonalds. Even the thought is degrading. No, he steals toilet paper from public restrooms.  

“Who in the name of god doesn’t have real cutlery?” asks Liam. Louis wonders if he’s going to faint.

“A full time coffee shop worker and a part time artist, part time lunatic,” says Louis. Liam just looks at him for a long while with this look of absolute shock and pain and so Louis just groans and tries to find some plastic forks. 

The night wears on and after Liam’s dinner, which, although funny, did remind Louis a lot of dinners at home in which his mother would grill him about school and life and girls. Oh, his straight days. So many awkward memories. 

When the clock strikes twelve their stupid party is underway. Zayn has already cried at least once, Liam has found a channel on television that plays nothing but Happy Days on repeat, and Niall is in the kitchen filming Harry, who has got a ceramic mug balanced on his nose. Louis watches the absolute tomfoolery that is going on around him and finds it so absolutely lovely that Harry just slots right in to their group of misfits and sociopaths. It gives him that warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Or, you know, that might just be intoxication. 

“Fuck!” yells Niall suddenly, followed immediately by a loud crash. Louis looks over and sees them both staring at the smashed mug on the floor, and then at each other, and then they both burst out laughing. 

“Why do we even have things that are breakable?” asks Zayn, from his place on the dining table. He’s laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, the same thing he’s been doing for the last hour. Louis wonders if he’s finally realized he’s completely mental and he’s descended into some kind of existential crisis that will cause him to turn his life around. Well, he doesn’t really wonder so much as he hopes. 

“I suppose that means I’ll have to get rid of you then, Zayn, since you seem to be fairly breakable right now,” says Louis. 

“Excuse me?” says Zayn, sitting up and banging his head on the low-hanging light. Liam immediately leaps up and sprints to the kitchen to get ice.

“Ow, fuck!” he yells, looking down at the ground. “What the fuck is this?” 

“Oh, yeah, watch out, there’s glass,” says Harry, and he and Niall piss themselves again. 

“I really think it’s time to sleep,” says Louis, rubbing his head and taking a swig of Harry’s wine, which he’s just drinking from the bottle by this point. 

“Call the couch!” Niall yells, throwing himself onto it. “Lou, get me a blanket!”

“Do I look like your fucking father, Niall?” asks Louis.

“My father’d tell me to fuck off and probably whack me over the head with a bottle,” says Niall nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just given away one of the only hints about his adolescent life that they’ve ever heard. But they all know the protocol by now: don’t ask. Don’t ask and just do whatever he says because that’s a can of worms that nobody wants open, especially not Niall. 

“Here you fucking go,” says Louis after pulling a blanket from the linen cupboard and throwing it on Niall. 

“Thanks Lou, you’re the greatest,” says Niall, switching Happy Days over to something about sport and pulling a throw cushion under his head. 

Louis looks around to find that Liam has finished bandaging up his foot (which is very dramatic, in Louis’ opinion. There wasn’t even any blood) and is now finding ice for Zayn. Harry’s head pops up over the kitchen bench and he asks (adorably) where he’s supposed to put the broken glass.

“If you’re not going to put it in Zayn’s pillow, which would be my first choice, then the bin please,” says Louis. 

“Fuck yourself, Louis Tomlinson,” says Zayn, from the table, sitting up again and hitting his head again. “Ow.”

“Zayn, you goose, come here,” says Liam, helping Zayn off the table. “I’m in with Zayn tonight, okay? He needs someone who’s not a meanie to take care of him.” 

“Did you just call me a meanie?” Louis asks, shocked. “Am I awake?” 

“Shut up, Lou,” says Zayn. Louis looks at him, and oh. Oh. Zayn is about as red as anyone can get and it may have taken him a while, since he’s drunk, but oh. Liam is going to be in with Zayn, oh god, Zayn must be having an aneurism right now. There are so many things he could say, so many, but he chooses not to. Because he’s a good friend. And also because Harry’s in the room and Louis knows that Zayn will retaliate quick-smart. 

“Goodnight Zayn, goodnight dad,” is all Louis says. 

“Goodnight Lou,” says Liam. Zayn ignores him. Louis smiles to himself. 

It’s at this moment that Louis realizes that Harry is going to be sleeping in his bedroom. Possibly in his bed. Probably in his bed. Shit. He looks at Harry and he knows Harry has realized the same thing but instead of going into panic mode, like Louis has, Harry smiles at him. That makes Louis flip out even more. 

“I guess I’m in your room,” says Harry. 

“I guess you are,” says Louis.

“I guess I am,” says Harry, smiling like a dork. 

“I guess you should fucking go there then,” comes Niall’s voice from the couch. 

So, they do. Louis smiles at Harry and Harry follows him to his bedroom, which he is suddenly very insecure about. What if Harry thinks his room is boring? And, by extension, thinks that Louis is boring? What if he’s had a wank and got a cumstain on something? What if there’s dirty underwear lying around? What if it smells weird? Oh god. Oh, god, he’s panicking too much. Way too much. 

“Your room’s nice,” says Harry, when they walk in, and it’s dark in there, and neither of them bother to turn on the light. 

“Thanks,” says Louis, and Harry shuts the door. He shuts it. He shuts them in. Louis’ trapped. Forever. Forever in his bedroom with Harry. 

He takes his shirt off without thinking about it, it’s force of habit, he always does it. Then he realizes that that might be weird. Is that weird? Probably not, because when he looks around, Harry has done the same thing. He can see his outline in the dark, taking his pants off as well, and so Louis does, and they both crawl into bed in their underwear. It’s terrifying. 

“Lou?” comes Harry’s quiet voice after a few moments. 

“Yeah?” asks Louis, yawning. Harry’s laying on his back, and Louis’ laying on his side facing away from Harry and their legs are touching and it’s freaking Louis out. 

“I just…” he begins. 

“You just?” Louis asks, holding his breath a little, but Harry doesn’t answer. Instead, he rolls over and he pulls Louis into him and he’s warm and nice and soft. 

“I just,” says Harry, and somehow it’s a complete sentence, somehow it’s enough. 

As they fall asleep, Louis hopes their breathing is enough to cover the sound of his heartbeat. If it’s not, then he just hopes that Harry doesn’t mind. 

Chapter Text

“Happy Tuesday!” 

“Fuck off Liam.” 

Louis despises Tuesdays because Greg always rosters him on for the 7 o’clock shift. Liam’s always super excited about it and it’s really honestly quite disgusting that anyone can ever be this excited at 7am. But whatever, because it means Liam doesn’t mind so much when Louis lazes around while Liam gets ready to start the day. 

“Come on, I’ve made you breakfast,” says Liam.

“Li, I haven’t eaten before eight o’clock in about three years and I don’t want to upset the balance of the universe by starting now,” says Louis from where he is sitting at the table with his face in his hands. 

“It’s a toasted sausage sandwich with-”

“But the universe will be fine, I’m sure,” Louis interrupts, standing up abruptly to take the sandwich from Liam. 

Nothing interesting at all happens until around eleven, which is when Zayn comes in. Louis silently laments over the fact that a visit from Zayn has become something interesting in his life. It is, however, always fun to watch the flustered ramblings of Zayn whenever he’s around Liam. 

“Hi Zayn, darling,” says Louis, from where he is sitting up on the counter playing bejeweled. 

“Sup?” says Zayn, like a complete loser. Louis looks up from his game to see Zayn glance at Liam and then sigh thankfully when he realizes Liam is too busy scraping gum from under a table to have heard him say sup. 

“And what can I get you?” Louis asks, having no intention of getting Zayn anything at all. 

“The same old,” says Zayn. Louis has no idea what the fuck that means. 

“Liam,” Louis calls.

“Yes?” Liam grunts.

“Zayn would like his usual order, and since I have no idea what that is, your services are required,” says Louis. 

Liam sits up from under the table. “Zayn,” he smiles, eyes lighting up. “I didn’t even notice you come in.”

“Hi Liam,” is all Zayn says, with a wobbly smile. 

“Let me get you something to eat,” says Liam as he stands up and moves behind the counter. Louis looks over and makes seductive faces at Zayn, who gives him angry eyebrows. 

“Lou, you’re finishing at two today, yeah?” asks Liam as he uses the coffee machine. 

“Yes, and if you’re going to ask me to work overtime you can eat my shit because that’s not happening,” says Louis, going back to his game. 

“No, I was just going to say that I’m not finishing until five, and I left my phone charger at Niall’s, so I was wondering if you could pick it up and drop it off here for me,” says Liam, finishing up making the coffee. 

“You want me to go all the way to Niall’s, get your phone charger, and then come all the way back here?” Louis asks as if Liam has gone mental and just asked him to kidnap some infants from the maternity ward and sacrifice them to the lamb god. 

“Niall’s is a fifteen minute walk from here,” Zayn points out.

“Shut your mouth, Zayn,” says Louis casually. “Can’t you just use one of our chargers, Liam?” 

“No, I don’t have an iPhone,” he says.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Louis groans, tipping his head back. “Fine, I will get your charger.”

“Thank you,” says Liam, taking Zayn his coffee and a chicken and avocado croissant. Of fucking course Zayn would eat something so pretentious as a croissant with fucking avocado. Artists. Louis swears, Zayn thinks he’s a fucking Kardashian sometimes. 

“Thanks Li,” says Zayn, and it’s starting to sound a lot more normal when he calls Liam that. Louis wonders if he’s been practicing in front of the mirror. 

Liam smiles sweetly at Zayn, and when he turns away Louis watches Zayn’s face go bright red. He kind of feels sad for his stupid best friend. By kind of, though, he means he really really feels sad. He constantly makes fun of Zayn for his ridiculous crush on Liam, but it does upset him that Zayn can’t just get the one thing that he really wants. 

It’s not as if Liam knows how Zayn feels. Even though Zayn is very very obvious about it, Liam is exceedingly stupid sometimes and just doesn’t think about this kind of thing. He’s not straight, Louis knows that. The only straight one in their group is Niall. Zayn used to sleep with girls before he realized he was gay. Then he started sleeping with boys. But when he and Louis met Liam after high school, Zayn fell in love pretty much straight away and has barely had sex with anyone since. It’s ridiculous. He might as well be a nun. 

He used to try and paint Liam. Louis would come home every day to a new edition of the Liam portraits in the living room. Zayn stopped, eventually, though, when he realized he couldn’t paint Liam, because no one could paint Liam, because you could paint his face, but you couldn’t paint him. That’s when Zayn really started with his poetry, because he could put Liam in words, he could do that.

This is what Louis’ thinking about as he walks to Niall’s. It’s nice and cool out, and the sky looks a bit like rain, so Louis tries to speed up, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t really give a shit if he gets wet. Who cares? He’s lost the will to live. What does it matter if he gets wet? Christ, he’s becoming Zayn. He’s going to start speaking in iambic pentameter soon. 

Niall lives in a nice apartment that is fairly close to the bar that he works in. He lives by himself because he was always wary of finding a roommate because Louis forced him to watch all these documentaries about psychos who move in and then kill you. Niall said he refused to let anyone take over his identity and then murder him. Zayn told him that no one would want to be him anyway so he might as well get a roommate. Liam told them to all shut up because other people were trying to see the film as well and they were being very loud and rude in a public place.

Louis goes inside and takes the elevator up to the sixth floor where Niall lives. He’s dragging his feet because he knows that Niall will invite him in to have a few drinks or to smoke a joint or three and Louis knows he won’t be able to say no and he honestly can’t be bothered. It’s a dilemma. It’s like, the part of his brain that wants to get fucked up overrides the part of his brain that doesn’t. It’s ridiculous and he wishes he he knew how to fix it but at the same time he doesn’t. He’s a walking contradiction. 

He gets to Niall’s apartment and starts knocking on the door. When he doesn’t answer after about thirty seconds, Louis knocks again. Still, no answer, and so Louis starts banging on the door and groaning because he knows Niall’s home. “Honestly Niall,” he calls through the door. “You better be awake. It’s almost two thirty on a Tuesday, what self-respecting person isn’t-” but he is cut off by the door opening. 

In his shock, he almost punches the person in front of him in the face. However, he doesn’t, thank Christ, because that would be excruciatingly embarrassing since he is right now at this current time standing face to face with none other than Harry. 

Louis blinks. “Hi,” he says. 

“Hey, what’s up?” says Harry is if he hasn’t just turned up somewhere completely random because he always seems to just turn up, he’s just there, all the time.

“Um, is this Niall’s house?” asks Louis, because he has to ask. He’s really not sure if he’s just knocked on the wrong door or gone into the wrong building or just been led by fate to Harry’s apartment.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry laughs. “Sorry, I suppose Niall didn’t tell you.” 

Louis just stares at him. He hasn’t seen him since Friday and although it’s only been three days, it just seems like a really long time. Like, maybe Harry’s been to the beach, or maybe he’s got a new tattoo, or maybe he’s got a new boyfriend who he’s totally in love with and is going to propose to soon. Maybe he went grocery shopping. Who knows? Not Louis, that’s for sure. 

“What?” asks Louis, reminding himself that he’s being insane. 

“I had a bit of a problem with my old apartment and so Niall offered that I move in with him here,” Harry smiles.

“Oh,” says Louis. “What was the problem?”

“It cost money,” says Harry. “Well, too much money, anyway.”

“That makes sense,” says Louis. 

“So, what did you want with Niall?” Harry asks after a few beats of awkward silence. 

“Who?” asks Louis, who was busy looking at Harry. “Oh, right, um, Liam’s phone charger.”

“Is it here?” asks Harry. 

“From what I’ve heard,” says Louis back. 

“Niall’s not here, but you can come in and have a look,” says Harry. 

“Thanks,” says Louis, and he says it a lot more casually than he feels because he’s about to be inside Harry’s home. Well, it is kind of Niall’s home, and Louis’ been here about a million times, but somehow it feels different because Harry lives here now and where ever Harry is just has this lovely aura about it. 

Harry steps back and Louis walks in and it looks pretty much exactly the same. There’s only two bedrooms and Niall used to use the spare to just store random shit, so Louis assumes that’s where Harry’s living. He’s not one hundred percent sure about where this charger is, and Harry’s just kind of standing there and looking at him, and he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Are you going to help me?” asks Louis. 

“Oh,” says Harry, as if suddenly realizing that that is a possibility. 

The two look around the room for a bit and Louis is just thinking about how fucking random it is that Harry is here. Honestly, he’s freaking out a little bit and he’s not entirely one hundred percent sure on what he should do. He figures he needs to just get the charger and leave before they can talk or hang out or make out or have hot steamy sex on Niall’s carpet. 

“Hey, is this it?” asks Harry, holding up a white Samsung charger that he’s found by the TV.

“Yes, awesome, thank you,” says Louis, taking the charger from Harry. It’s silent for a few seconds before Louis hardens his resolve and says, “I should probably go,” at the same time that Harry says, “Do you want a cup of tea?” 

It takes all of half a second for Louis to cave. “Tea sounds lovely,” he says, with an inner sigh at his ridiculous lack of self control. 

Harry goes to the kitchen and sets about making the tea. “Sugar?” he asks.

“No, you barbarian,” says Louis, scrunching up his face from his place on Niall’s couch. 

Harry laughs. “So I’m going to guess no milk either, then?” 

“Of course not,” says Louis. “You sicken me.” 

They’re quiet for the next few minutes as Harry brews the tea. The only sound comes from Louis tapping his foot on the coffee table and Harry humming something that doesn’t even really have a tune to it. It’s endearing, though. Everything about Harry is endearing. Louis is beginning to just synonymize the two words in his head. 

“Here,” says Harry, handing Louis his tea and sitting down on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. 

“Thanks babe,” says Louis automatically. He doesn’t mean it. He really doesn’t. He just calls people babe sometimes and he made a promise to himself to never call Harry babe but he just did it and now he’s blushing like an idiot. Harry just smiles though and oh god, Louis is pretty much in love with him. 

They drink their tea and they have a chat about random, meaningless things. It’s just so easy with Harry, the whole conversation thing. It’s like, they can do smalltalk but they can also do bigtalk. For instance, one minute they will be discussing politics and the next minute they’re talking about their parents divorces. Louis hates Harry for being so lovely and easy to talk to. He’s just glad he seems to have proved himself wrong about the whole, ‘Harry is bad news’ thing. 

“I suppose I’d better go,” says Louis, when they’re done with their tea. He doesn’t want to, but he’s got about fifty ignored text messages from Liam all saying things like ‘lou, pls, im dying here’ and ‘lou come on, 7% left!!!!!’. What a drama queen. 

“Yeah, Liam will be crying if he can’t text his new boyfriend,” says Harry.

“What?” asks Louis, almost getting whiplash from how fast he looks up from his phone. “What boyfriend?” 

“Not an actual boyfriend,” says Harry. “Didn’t he tell you? He met some guy, Tyler something, and apparently they really hit it off and they’re going to get married and have three children and a dalmatian.”

“When did this happen?” asks Louis aggressively. 

“I think Niall said Sunday,” says Harry, frowning a little as he tries to remember. 

“I’m going to beat the shit out of him,” says Louis. 

“Niall or Liam?” asks Harry.

“Both,” says Louis, and Harry laughs. 

They’re at the door now, Louis standing in the hall and Harry leaning against the open doorframe, smiling down at Louis because he’s so fucking tall. Louis wonders if he should say something but before he can even try Harry leans down and kisses him. Just a quick one that doesn’t last any longer than 3 seconds but it happens and Louis is taken totally by surprise. 

“Um, I’ll see you,” says Louis when they pull away and he knows his face is bright red but he can’t do anything to stop it. 

“Yeah,” Harry smiles. “See you.” 

And then Louis is going and thinking about what the fuck just happened and why. Making out is one thing, because you can just make out for the fun of making out. Same with spooning in bed. But kissing someone goodbye, that’s different, that means something, and Louis doesn’t even want to think about how his heart is beating so aggressively. 

When he gets back to the coffee shop, he’s calmed down slightly. He doesn’t even have the heart to berate Liam about not telling him about this boy. He just gives him his charger and floats on his happy cloud back to his apartment. He comes back to earth, though, when he finds Zayn on the couch eating peanut butter ice cream out of the tub.

Louis sighs. “Tell me all about, darling,” he says, sitting down next to Zayn. 

“What the fuck kind of name is Tyler?” Zayn asks, waving his spoon around, mouth full of ice cream. “You know his last name is Windsor? Fucking Windsor. Like, who the fuck does he think he is? I bet right now he’s off playing tennis and wearing a fucking Ralph Lauren polo shirt.”

“How many poems have you written about it so far?” asks Louis, half-joking.

“Eighteen,” says Zayn, not joking at all. “Do you want to read them?”

“Not even a little bit,” says Louis. Zayn thrusts his poetry notebook at Louis anyway, though, and Louis groans and opens it to the last page that’s been written on and reads the poem that Zayn has titled ever so eloquently, Tyler Can Go Sit on a Knife :

If you asked me to 

Slit my own 

Throat because 

You needed

The blood 

For paint,

I would do it

WIthout even

Thinking twice.

But if I asked you,

You wouldn’t even

Give me a fucking

Pound for the

Fucking bus.

“Jesus Christ, Zayn,” Louis says, slightly disgusted and a little alarmed. “You have literally become more morbid than Sylvia Plath.”

“Do you like it?” asks Zayn, shoveling more ice cream into his mouth.

“It’s honestly the worst thing I’ve ever read in my entire life and I’m a little bit worried about you,” says Louis. “Do you actually make money out of this?”

Zayn shrugs. 

“Honestly Zayn,” says Louis, shaking his head. “Liam doesn’t even paint. And if he did, why on earth would he use your blood, for Christ’s sake? Can’t you just go back to being an artist? Jesus, I can’t even speak to you right now, to be honest.”

Zayn sighs. “Shall we just get pissed, then?” 

“Obviously.” 

Chapter Text

Louis wakes up on Saturday to a very rare thing: there are no hung-over boys passed out around his apartment.

It’s honestly become something that he’s accustomed to. Every Saturday he wakes up and wanders around to see who’s passed out where after their usual Friday night train wreck. This Saturday is different, however, because everybody actually decided to go home for once.

“Where is everyone?” asks Zayn as he wanders, bleary eyed, out of his bedroom.

“Liam has to open up today and so he went home at eleven last night,” Louis tells him. “And it was one of Niall’s bad days and so we made Harry take him home to bed before things got worse.”

“Ah,” is all Zayn says as he opens the fridge.

“Honestly Zayn, anyone would think you had multiple personality disorder with the amount that you black out,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.

“Some people have a lot of pain to drink away, Louis William Tomlinson,” says Zayn, shutting the fridge considering it’s empty and all.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Okay, number one, never use my middle name again. And, number two, stop weeping over the fact that Liam may have a sort of kind of maybe almost boyfriend and just man up and tell him how you feel.”

Zayn scoffs. “Yeah, okay, tell him how I feel, awesome advice from the guy who just stares at Harry all day and then cries into his pillow every night when he’s drunk on five pound wine,” he retorts.

Louis laughs. “Ease up Malik, you sassy prick,” he says, smiling at Zayn’s quip. “How about we quit the back and forth and go and buy some food?”

Zayn opens his mouth to speak, but his stomach answers for him.

“Was that your stomach or a level five earthquake?” asks Louis.

“Shut up Louis,” Zayn responds.

The two of them put on some real clothes and head down to the bus stop. It’s a ten minute bus ride to the grocery store and Louis hates it because they always have to drag about a million shopping bags onto the bus and all the way home and it’s just ridiculous. Really they should both save up and like, buy a car together or something. He suggested it to Zayn once but Zayn had said, “I’m not ready for that kind of commitment.” Louis had laughed, but it had turned out Zayn was serious, the absolute knob. So, they’re stuck with the bus.

When they get to the grocery store they go in and start wandering around, impulsively just shoving random things into the cart (“Zayn, you literally hate mustard, why would you want to buy it?” “What if I need it for cooking, Lou, turn your brain on.” “Zayn, you don’t know how to cook anything besides instant noodles.” “Well a little mustard could spice up my noodles.”). They’ve been there for about twenty minutes when they pass a magazine rack.

“Hey, Zayn, isn’t this the magazine you send all your poetry to?” asks Louis, picking up a copy of the magazine, Yellow Thumbtack. He never really understood the title, but he supposed it was some kind of metaphor thing that only weird amateur poets understood.

“Yes, why?” asks Zayn, who has so far spent ten minutes considering whether or not he wants to switch popcorn brands.

“Just curious,” asks Louis, flipping through the pages. He finally finds a poem under Zayn’s pseudonym, Gilligan Gone, which, in Louis’ opinion, is the shittest pseudonym in the history of ever.

“Oh, look at this, an angsty love poem by Gilligan Gone,” says Louis in his most sarcastic tone. “The Bridge Under the Sea, oh I wonder who this could be about.”

“Fuck off,” says Zayn, deciding on sticking with his usual popcorn brand.

“It is cold and I am alone,” Louis reads. “Good opening line.”

“Louis,” Zayn warns.

“I must say, I do like this title a lot better than Tyler Can Go Sit on a Knife.”

“Louis-” Zayn starts, but he is cut off.

“What’s that noise?” asks Louis.

“That’s your phone ringing,” says Zayn, looking at Louis as if he is wearing a Dunce cone on his head.

“That’s weird,” says Louis, pulling out his phone.

He looks at it and sees Niall’s contact name and he sighs. He doesn’t know if he wants to answer it because this call is most definitely about them going out tonight and Louis doesn’t know if he wants to do that. But he knows that if he doesn’t answer, Niall will not stop calling. He will go as far as to sit outside of Louis’ door and knock on it for hours until Louis mans up and agrees to whatever Niall wants. This has happened before.

“Hello?” Louis asks warily.

“Ever heard of Black Shelf?” asks Niall, without even saying hello.

“Is it something to do with ecstasy?” asks Louis as he puts down the magazine and he and Zayn continue navigating the aisles in the store.

“No,” says Niall.

“Well then no,” Louis replies.

“Neither have I,” says Niall. “It’s this club and I thought I knew the name of every club but apparently I don’t and I’m kind of ashamed. So basically, we’re going there tonight. Be at mine with Malik at nine for pre’s. Okay?”

“Niall-”

“Sweet, see you then.”

And he hangs up.

“What did he want?” asks Zayn as Louis’ phone vibrates. He looks down to see a text from Niall that says ‘also the eccies idea was mint so if u got some feel free 2 share’

“To exacerbate my stress levels,” Louis sighs.

☀☀☀

Louis and Zayn arrive at Niall’s at ten to nine. Louis is wearing black jeans and a light blue button up with a collar. Zayn is wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt with this weird jacket over the top that Louis says makes him look like a professor but Zayn says makes him seem cultured.

“Morning boys!” says Niall when he opens the door. No one points out that it’s 9pm because this kind of is Niall’s morning. “You lads reckon this top’s alright?” he asks as they walk into the kitchen.

Louis opens his mouth to make a remark about how all Niall wears is white T-shirts and so yes it looks fine just like every other time, but Zayn elbows him in the ribs. Louis looks at him indignantly before remembering that Niall hasn’t been having the greatest time lately and so maybe lay off the shit talking for a while.

“Yeah Niall, looks fine,” says Louis.

“Yeah?” Niall asks, opening a can of something. “You’d fuck me?”

“Well, no,” says Louis. “But that’s not because of your shirt.”

Niall laughs heartily and it makes Louis smile. “Right, well you think the birds will like it, though?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if you send out the right vibe what with hanging with a bunch of gay dudes,” says Zayn.

Niall scoffs. “You guys are lucky I’m not gay, otherwise there’d be no one left for you lot.”

The three of them are laughing when Harry walks into the room. Louis kind of almost chokes on air when he sees him because Jesus Christ he looks good. He’s wearing black skinny jeans and a white T-shirt and he’s got this red flannel shirt over it and his hair’s actually in a fucking bun and he grins real big at them when he sees them and Louis is about to spit on the floor and drown himself in it.

“Hey guys,” he smiles, like it’s the greatest thing in the world to see them or something.

“Hey Harry,” says Zayn casually because Zayn is fine talking to attractive boys as long as they’re not Liam.

“Hi,” says Louis and he’s so ashamed because he pretty much whispered that.

“Is Liam coming?” Harry asks, joining them in the kitchen and taking a beer out of the fridge.

“No, he and his new boyfriend are meeting us there,” says Niall, rolling his eyes.

“They’re not dating,” says Zayn, a little too defensively, and because Niall is clueless and an idiot, he goes on talking about it.

“Might as well be with the way Liam goes on,” says Niall. “’Oh, Tyler is so sweet, he sends me heart emojis all the time’, ‘Tyler is just the greatest, he’s soooooooo dreamy.’”

Harry and Louis laughs and Zayn makes his best attempt, and Louis figures it’s time to start getting drunk before the claws come out and Niall gets hit because of something he doesn’t even know he’s doing.

“Tequila?” asks Louis, holding up the bottle, and everyone whole-heartedly agrees.

After choking back a few disgusting tequila shots, they have a beer and then decide it’s time to go. With the bus ride, they get to Black Shelf at about ten o’clock. As soon as they step off the bus Louis hears Liam shouting at them. Looking over, Louis sees him looking absolutely top notch and standing with someone who could only be Tyler. And so Louis squeezes Zayn’s arm reassuringly and the four boys walk over to say hello.

“Hey guys, wow, you all look great!” Liam says in his incessant ever-cheery voice.

“Yeah, you too mate,” says Harry smiling and just his voice is enough to make Louis want to punch a wall in frustration.

“Guys, this is my friend Tyler,” Liam smiles and as he goes down the line and shakes everyone’s hand, Louis takes in his appearance. He’s got a narrow face and dirty blond hair that’s been neatly styled. He has a few freckles and he’s got grey eyes and Louis must admit he really is very attractive. He’s also probably very nice but unfortunately, due to the unwritten laws of friendship, Louis has to hate him and everything he stands for.

“And this is Louis, we work together and he’s also just really great and funny,” says Liam as Tyler turns to smile at Louis.

“Hi Louis,” he says, extending a hand. “It’s really good to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I haven’t heard anything about you,” says Louis as he takes his hand, because it’s true and because he really can’t be nice to this guy for fear of Zayn’s retribution. Tyler just laughs though.

“And this is Zayn,” says Liam as Tyler turns to shake Zayn’s hand. “Zayn’s amazing, and he’s so talented.”

Zayn grumbles something incoherent and rolls his eyes as he shakes Tyler’s outstretched hand for all of half a second. Thankfully Liam doesn’t see it, though, because he’s too busy being excited about stuff with Niall.
The six of them only have to stand in line for about ten minutes before they get in and once they step through the doors, Louis is kind of amazed. The whole place is super dark and everything is black but the music is loud and it’s filled almost wall to wall with people. There’s a strobe flashing and every time the club lights up Louis is more and more amazed. He’s also not sure if that really is dry ice that he’s seeing because he can kind of smell pot and he has to wonder what kind of club this really is.

“Want to go get a drink with me?” Harry is shouting in his ear because the music is so loud.

“Definitely,” says Louis and they make their way to the bar, separating from the rest of the group. The bar is a little quieter and while they still do have to shout, it’s a lot easier to hold a conversation.

Once they both have a drink in their hands, Harry leans over to Louis and says, “I’m glad I’m not Zayn right now.”

Louis wonders which thing Harry has chosen to pity him for out of all the things wrong with Zayn. “Why’s that?” he asks.

“Because the poor bastard’s in love with Liam, right?” Harry says and Louis is a little shocked.

“Have you read his poetry?” asks Louis, and Harry chuckles.

“No, I have eyes,” he says, sipping his drink.

“You must be the only one then,” says Louis, and they both laugh.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Harry says then, and Louis’ heart rate speeds up. Before he gets a chance to answer, though, a blonde girl in a tight black dress is suddenly much to close too Harry for Louis’ comfort.

“Would you like to dance?” she asks him without even saying hello.

“Why not?” says Harry, smiling. “You don’t mind, do you Lou?”

“No, course not,” says Louis, although he minds very much. Of course, it would be highly inappropriate to admit that, and so Louis watches Harry go and dance with some girl who may as well be out to ruin Louis’ life.

The night wears on and things go pretty much as Louis had expected them to. Zayn sits at the bar and gets drunk and ignores everyone who tries to make a pass at him while he stares at Liam. Liam has a great time dancing with this Tyler guy and Louis wants to hate him but Tyler keeps buying them rounds and being really nice and telling jokes and so it’s hard. He only really sees Niall a few times because he’s constantly off making out with random girls. Louis’ sure he’s taken at least two to the bathroom to fuck, but he might be making those numbers up. Things are a little fuzzy.

As for Harry, Louis has seen at least five people buy him drinks and even more flirt with him. Harry seems to enjoy the attention if only because he’s such a friendly person, but Louis doesn’t know how much more of this night he can take. It’s not like no one’s tried it on with him but he really isn’t in the mood to be with anyone right now. And that’s not because he likes Harry. Not at all. He doesn’t like Harry. He’s just feeling shitty.

“Louis, I don’t think I can take this,” says Zayn melodramatically. “I can’t even look at him without feeling like my heart is imploding in upon itself. He makes me feel like I’ve got a supernova inside of my skull and I don’t think that’s fair. I don’t think it’s fair that he makes me feel like this and he’s fine and good and okay all the time.”

“Zayn I literally do not care,” says Louis, tired of hearing Zayn dictate novels to him.

“That’s the problem with our society today, though,” Zayn goes on as if he has no understanding of what Louis has just said. “No one cares anymore. We’re all so absorbed in our own lives that we don’t bother to look around and see what’s really going on-”

Zayn continues talking but Louis has long since stopped listening. In fact, he has decided that this is it. He’s going home. And so he does. Without saying goodbye, he stands up, walks out of the club, and gets on the next bus home.

When he finally gets back he goes upstairs and doesn’t even bother to take a shower. He just kind of goes to the fridge and finds a can of whipped cream and collapses onto the couch with it. He lays there for a while eating the whipped cream and thinking about how Zayn was right after all and no one cares about anything.

He also wonders why he even cares so much. He doesn’t want to lie to himself, and he can admit that it fucking sucked seeing all of those people all over Harry. Because Louis does want him, as much as he denies it to everyone, including himself. Louis wants him so bad and he’s kind of got this dull ache in his stomach that doesn’t go away and he knows it’s all because of stupid Harry.

This is what he’s thinking about at two in the morning with a mouth full of whipped cream when someone knocks on the door. It could only be Zayn, of course, and Louis is kind of tempted to leave him out there because it’s his own fault for always forgetting his damned keys. But Louis knows Zayn has also had a hard night and so he gets up and goes towards the door.

For the second time this week, though, Louis opens the door expecting someone other than Harry, but Harry’s who he sees. Louis swallows hard and frowns as Harry frowns back at him.

“Um,” says Louis. “Can I help you?” Probably not the best thing to say but that’s what came out of his mouth and he can’t exactly put it back in. He’s been drinking, sue him.

“You didn’t say goodbye when you left,” says Harry. “I wanted to check if you were okay.”

Of fucking course he did. “Yeah, sorry, just felt like coming home,” says Louis, and while it’s not the whole truth, it’s not exactly a lie.

“You’ve got cream on your face,” says Harry then, and Louis feels himself go bright red. He lifts his hand to his mouth and starts trying to wipe off the cream because Jesus that’s so embarrassing, what the hell is wrong with him?

“Sorry,” he says, when he lowers his hand. Harry just smiles.

“It’s still there,” he says, and Louis is a massive fucking idiot. “Here, let me.”

And he reaches out and instead of going to wipe food off of Louis’ face he just puts his hand on Louis’ cheek and pulls him in and kisses him real hard and wow Jesus, okay.

“Thanks,” says Louis when Harry pulls back. He’s not really sure why he just said that but he said it anyway. Harry just smiles again and leans in to kiss Louis more, but Louis moves his head away. Harry pulls back, and bites his lip, confused and a little hurt and as much as it pains Louis to see that look on his face, this is not happening.

“Sorry,” says Louis. He’s not really sorry for not kissing him but he is sorry for upsetting him because he hates that sad puppy look so much.

“Is everything okay, Louis?” Harry asks and Louis’ drunk right now, who is he kidding, and so he says everything that he’s thinking right now. Well, almost everything.

“I don’t wanna be a booty call, Harry,” he says, and Harry frowns.

“Louis-” he begins, but Louis is not going to be stopped now that he's started.

“Like, I’m not saying I want you to bring me flowers or propose or something out of fucking Nicholas Sparks, but I don’t like that you think you can just have me whenever you want,” Louis tells him, and he’s breathing heavy because this hurts him to say, but it’s got to be said.

“If that’s what you think Louis, then you’re fucking twisted,” says Harry, and wow, okay, ouch.

“Well, what, then Harry?” Louis says, because that stung but he’s not going to bend over because that’s all he’s ever done in his whole life and this time he’s protecting himself. “What is this? You show up at my door at two AM just to chat?”

“You know what-” Harry says, but he stops himself, and he sighs and he swallows hard. “I’m not doing this Louis, not now. Goodnight.”

“Whatever,” says Louis, and he slams the door shut as Harry walks away. Whatever. Whatever whatever whatever whatever.

☀☀☀

It’s twelve in the afternoon when Louis drags himself to work and he feels like shit inside and out. He puked when he woke up and it was mostly because of his hangover and probably partly because of how stressed out he is about fighting with Harry over stupid dumb things. He was hoping against hope that when he checked his phone he’d have a text or a missed call from him, but there was nothing. So he got up, showered, and dragged himself to the coffee shop.

“Hi Lou,” says Greg when Louis gets to work.

“Hey,” says Louis back. Sundays are Liam’s days off and usually Greg does the morning shift and Louis takes over for the afternoon. They should probably have more employees on but really, they’d kind of be kidding themselves, because the shop does not get that busy.

“You know the drill, mop, vacuum, clean the coffee machine, lock up at four, yeah?” asks Greg, like he always does, as if Louis is going to forget.

“I know Greg,” says Louis.

“Just making sure,” says Greg as he smiles and gets his coat. He says goodbye to Louis as he leaves and Louis immediately takes a donut out of the display and sits on the counter to eat it.

He hears the tinkly bell about an hour into his shift and Harry enters the store. Louis goes into panic mode straight away when he sees him, almost choking on the water he’s drinking. Harry smiles warmly at him though, and Louis momentarily wonders if he dreamed up the fight.

“Hey Louis,” says Harry.

“Hi,” says Louis back, getting up and standing behind the counter like a real employee.

“How are you feeling today?” Harry asks.

“Not bad,” says Louis, and he knows that he didn’t dream the fight, and he kind of hates that they’re playing pretend again but what else can he do? “How about you?”

“I’m okay,” says Harry. “Bit of a headache. Just have this massive craving for a cupcake.”

Louis smiles, because it’s hard not to. “Vanilla or chocolate?” he asks.

“Vanilla,” says Harry. “Duh.”

Louis puts the cupcake in a little paper bag and Harry pays him and smiles real big. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he says as he goes to leave.

“Yeah,” says Louis. “Soon.”

Harry leaves and Louis rests his head in his hands on the counter and squeezes his eyes shut because he’s definitely not going to cry because that would be stupid. He’s so sick of these games and this was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid in the first place.

He hears the tinkly bell again and he looks up to see Zayn this time. Louis sinks back into his sad position on the desk. “What do you want, Zayn?” he asks without looking up.

“I wrote something last night when I was on the bus,” says Zayn. “Do you want to read it?”

Louis hates everything.

Chapter Text

Apparently when you are Harry Styles, see you soon means I will ignore you for a long time and probably the rest of my life. It’s been two weeks since their drunken fight and coffee shop meeting, and Louis has seen Harry a total amount of one time.

It’s shitty and it sucks but Louis kind of thinks maybe he can just never see Harry again and things will get better. Like, Harry will be that friend that you only see on certain Holidays like St Patrick’s Day or when Haley’s Comet comes. Maybe Louis can forget about him and things will be fine.

And perhaps Louis’ just acting like it doesn’t hurt because that’s easier than facing up to the fact that he kind of really does like Harry a lot. But if it works, it works. Even if he’s lying to himself and it doesn’t really work at all and he has to drink a bottle of wine before he can start forgetting what Harry looks like. But at least he has his friends to aide him on the slow descent into alcoholism.

“You guys want a smoke?” asks Zayn.

Liam is in the kitchen making dinner and Louis, Zayn, and Niall are lounging about in the living room drinking. It’s no surprise to Louis that Harry didn’t show up, despite Niall having invited him. He’s not thinking about it though. That would be too much.

“Yeah,” says Niall. Louis frowns.

“Niall, you don’t smoke,” says Louis.

“Things change,” says Niall a little to harshly but Louis doesn’t push it. He just tells Zayn no thank you and he goes to the kitchen to help Liam while the other two go to the balcony.

Liam is currently making spaghetti Bolognese and he’s singing to himself while he does it and Louis thinks it’s utterly adorable. “Would you like some help, dad?” Louis asks.

“Huh?” says Liam. “Oh, um, if you like you can stir the meat.” He hands Louis a wooden spoon (that he brought with him because of Louis and Zayns lack of cutlery) and Louis stirs.

“Hey, is Niall okay?” asks Louis as he and Liam cook. Liam sighs.

“In all honesty, Louis, I’m really not sure,” says Liam and he looks upset. “You know him, he goes through bad patches and he bottles it all up. I mean, what do any of us even know about how he grew up besides that it was awful?”

“I think he’s got a lot of daddy issues,” says Louis and Liam frowns at his wording.

“I know what you mean,” says Liam. “This could be completely wrong, but I kind of feel like he’s… I don’t want to say compensating, because I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but something along those lines. You know what I mean?”

Louis thinks. “Not really,” he says honestly. Liam is patient with him, as always.

“I think he didn’t really get a lot of love when he was growing up,” Liam explains. “And maybe that’s why he craves affection and acceptance now.”

Louis thinks over what Liam has just said while he stirs the mince. Liam strains the spaghetti over the sink and waits for Louis to answer. “You’re saying that he fucks around because he got neglected as a kid?”

“I don’t know if that’s really a good summation of what I’m trying to explain because it doesn’t really cover the complexity of the situation but yes, in a nutshell,” Liam says. Louis just sips his wine.

The night wears on and of course, it’s Zayn who passes out first, but not before he manages to turn all the living room furniture upside down with nothing but a thumbtack and a frying pan. Louis sometimes wonders why he still lives with Zayn when nothing he does ever makes sense. And by sometimes, he means every single day.

“I think I’m going to turn in,” says Liam.

“You can have Zayn’s bed,” says Louis, looking at where Zayn is deeply asleep on the upside down couch.

“Thanks,” says Liam. Louis almost expects him to say they should help Zayn, but Liam looks exhausted, and so Louis’ glad he doesn’t. “Night guys.”

“Night Li,” says Louis.

“Sleep well, mate,” says Niall. As soon as Liam shuts Zayn’s bedroom door behind him, Niall sighs. He looks around for a few seconds before finding Zayn’s cigarettes. He takes two out and holds one up to Louis.

“I don’t smoke, Niall,” says Louis, raising an eyebrow.

“Nor do I,” says Niall. Louis sighs. He wants to be supportive, and if that means smoking on the balcony at two in the morning with Niall, that’s what he’ll do.

As soon as they step outside Louis’ aware of how cold it is. He leans his forearms on the railing and is thankful for his sweater while Niall lights his cigarette. When he hands Louis the lighter Louis takes it without saying anything and he lights his own. When he inhales he realizes how long it’s been since he’s smoked a cigarette and he can’t tell if he’s missed it or not.

“I don’t know if I wanna ask,” says Louis, not looking at Niall.

“Then don’t,” he replies, exhaling. Louis doesn’t push it, because he knows that sometimes there isn’t really an explanation. Sometimes there isn’t really anything you can say. And that’s okay.

“Did I ever tell you about how Zayn and I met?” asks Louis, looking at Niall and grinning. Niall leans down on the rail next to Louis and smiles.

“You know what? I don’t think you have,” says Niall.

“Alright,” says Louis, taking a drag. “It was when I was thirteen-”

“Wait, you’ve known him that long?” asks Niall incredulously.

“I know,” says Louis. “I have been putting up with his shit for nine years.”

Niall lets out a low whistle. “Props to you bud,” he says.

“Thank you,” says Louis graciously. “Anyway, he moved in to the house beside mine. And you know when you’re a kid and you’re so excited when you get neighbors because it’s like what if they have a kid? A kid your age who you can be friends with, you know? And so my mum sent me over with a plate of cookies-”

“Cookies?” asks Niall, scoffing.

“Meet my mother and then scoff,” says Louis, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I took the cookies over and knocked on the door and all. And this little dweeby kid with the ugliest haircut I’d ever seen opens the door and you know what he does?”

“What?” asks Niall.

“He fucking knocks the plate of cookies out of my hands and stomps and jumps all over them, completely smashes up mums plate with his light up sneakers,” says Louis. Niall loses it.

“Why?” he asks through his laughter.

“I’ve still got no fucking clue, to be honest,” Louis tells him. “But after he smashed up the cookies he invited me in to play PlayStation and so that’s that.”

“He’s a bloody psychopath!” Niall laughs.

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” says Louis. “I mean he’s always got his stupid reasons, doesn’t he? He just doesn’t tell them to me.”

“He’s such a dick head,” Niall says, and they’re both laughing and Louis is happy to see Niall smiling and it just feels like a really good drunken moment. Then, all of a sudden, before Louis can even blink, Niall is kissing him.

Louis doesn’t even quite register what is happening enough to kiss back and when he finally does it takes a few more moments to realize that this is Niall, for Christ’s sake. When he finally becomes aware of what the hell is happening, he pulls back all at once and clears his throat awkwardly, staring at his friend.

“Um,” is all he can force himself to say. He tries again. “Um?”

“Sorry,” says Niall, and he goes to take a drag of his cigarette before he realizes it’s gone out. He tries to relight it but the lighter isn’t working and he tosses it over the balcony in frustration.

“Here,” says Louis, offering Niall his cigarette. Niall uses it to light his own and then passes it back to Louis as he takes a drag.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t even know why I did it, really. I guess I just wanted to know what it felt like.”

“How did it feel?” asks Louis, going back to leaning on the rail next to Niall.

“A bit wet, to be honest,” says Niall, and he laughs as Louis looks at him in disgust. “Nah, I dunno, Lou. It just felt like I was kissing my friend. I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just lonely.”

Louis can’t really think of anything to say that will help the situation. He’s not even really sure how he feels about the situation. So he just says what is on his mind. “I’m always here for you, you know that?”

“Thanks Lou,” says Niall, tossing his cigarette butt over the balcony. Louis tosses his as well and turns to Niall.

“I’m gonna hug you now,” says Louis. “Just as a friend, though. Don’t kiss me, okay?”

“No promises,” Niall laughs, and he leans in to hug Louis and Louis wonders if he’ll ever talk about what’s really wrong with him.

☀☀☀

Louis drags himself to work the next day at twelve, same as every other Saturday of his life, and the day goes by extremely uneventfully. As usual, there are barely any customers, and so Louis has plenty of time to think about Niall and Harry and Zayn and Liam and even fucking Tyler.

“Lou?” comes Liam’s voice after a while, disrupting his moody broodings.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up from the table he is sitting at.

“My shift’s over, I’m gonna head out,” Liam says, from where he is stood at the door. Louis can see through the glass that it’s dark and cloudy out, and so there’ll probably be a storm. It’s quite fitting to what he’s feeling on the inside.

“Okay Li, I’ll see you soon,” Louis tells him, and Liam frowns a little. He’s probably perplexed because Louis has not been his usual sarcastic and cynical self today.

“Yeah, bye Lou, have a good night,” Liam says kindly as he walks out the door, glancing back to look at Louis one last time.

It’s half an hour before closing when Louis decides, fuck it, he’s going to lock up and leave, because it’s raining out and no one is going to come in, no one ever comes in, so what’s the harm?

He isn’t going to vacuum, because in all honesty, he can’t be bothered. He will mop, though, because he spilled milk on the floor earlier, and so it’s probably a good idea. He goes into the storeroom and gets the mop and bucket. Then he fills the bucket with soap and water in the back sink, tapping his foot as he waits. When it’s full he carries it out to the main area, dragging the mop along. When he gets through the door into the front of the shop, he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Harry standing there.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?” he asks as his heart rate slows down.

“Not really trying, no,” says Harry. He’s wearing this flannel shirt and jeans and his dumb curly hair is a mess and he’s a little damp from the rain and he just looks so fucking attractive, Louis can’t really deal with it.

“We’re closed,” says Louis coldly, going about his mopping. He’s gotten over the initial shock and has remembered that he hates Harry and everything he stands for.

“The closed sign isn’t up,” says Harry.

“As I believe I have told you,” Louis says. “We don’t have one.”

“I know,” says Harry. “Look, Louis, I came in to apologize. I haven’t been fair.”

“No, you haven’t,” Louis agrees, still mopping.

“Neither have you, though,” says Harry, and what? Louis hasn’t been fair? What the fuck?

“Excuse me?” Louis asks, finally putting down the mop and facing Harry.

“Louis you keep treating me like I’m some piece of shit asshole that wants to use you for sex, and I’ve done nothing to deserve that,” says Harry, and he’s pissed, but he’s controlled. He knows what he’s saying. Louis feels like he has been rehearsing it.

“Well what am I supposed to think, Harry?” Louis asks frustratedly.

“That I’m not a bad person because I’m attracted to you!” Harry exclaims. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Louis, and you’re smart, and witty, and I’m sorry that I want to fuck you but you haven’t exactly been pushing me in the other direction.”

Louis is kind of breathless for a second or two. He wants to be really pissed off but Harry kind of just threw a whole bunch of compliments at him and he’s right, Louis never has turned him away and his thoughts are racing and his heart is racing and everything is racing and wow.

Louis looks at him for a second and he bites his lip and he’s thinking about it. He’s really thinking about it because he wants this, he wants it a lot. And Harry is just staring at him waiting for him to say something and so he just shuts his brain off.

“Fuck it,” he says, and walks out around the counter and to Harry and he kisses him as hard as he can. It starts to rain harder outside and Harry pushed Louis up against the counter. He lifts him up onto it and Louis wraps his legs around Harry and he’s reminded of the first time they kissed and how it was right here, right in this shop.

Harry runs his hands up Louis back, under his shirt, and so they break the kiss as Louis pulls off his black T-shirt and throws it on the floor. He starts kissing Harry again and he tastes like coffee and spearmint and Louis decides then and there that he loves the taste of coffee and spearmint. He starts to unbutton Harry’s shirt as they kiss and he can’t believe this is happening.

He knows he should stop, he should tell Harry to go home because that’s the way to not get your heart broken. But he’s finally touching Harry, all of him, as much of him as he wants, and he couldn’t stop if he tried.

Louis pushes Harry back a little as he stands up, and he tries to walk backwards to get behind the counter without breaking the kiss, but he trips on the mop bucket. Harry laughs at him and makes sure he’s standing steady and kisses him again. They go behind the counter, not kissing so as to avoid injury, and then they start back up again.

“Here?” Harry asks, breathless but somewhat unsure.

“Here,” says Louis, because he’s never fucked at work before, and there’s a first time for everything, right?

Harry grins into the kiss and starts to unbutton Louis’ pants and Louis vows to never tell Liam and especially not Greg. Hygiene be damned, no one eats at this fucking place anyway, so who cares? Not Louis and certainly not Harry.

And so, right there on the coffee shop floor, Louis finds out that Harry really is a ‘please’ kinda guy.

Chapter Text

“Tell me about it… Stud,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear.

“If you think I’m still going to have sex with you after that then you’re deluded,” Louis replies.

“Come on Lou,” says Harry. “My heart is set on you.”

“I’m never going to tell you anything ever again,” Louis says, pouting.

“Come on, I think it’s cute that you did Grease in high school,” Harry tells him, pouting back and pulling on Louis’ crossed arms.

“Nope,” says Louis. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Aw, don’t be mad,” Harry says, mock-pouting back at Louis.

“I’m not the only one who did dumb stuff as a kid,” says Louis. “Come on, what did you do in high school?”

Harry considers. “Everyone,” he says. Louis scoffs. Harry kisses his neck while Louis tries to stay mad. It’s not going to work though, because when it comes to Harry, he has literally no self-control.

“Oh, fine,” Louis says, giving in and kissing Harry.

Things have been good lately. Really good. They’ve kind of gone from being Louis and Harry to being LouisandHarry. And Louis fucking loves it.

It’s been three weeks since they first slept together on the coffee shop floor. Three weeks of non-stop sex, broken only by Louis continuously telling himself that no, he does not like Harry in that way. But it’s a bit useless, really. It’s kind of like when Zayn stamps his foot in the bin to shove the rubbish down more so he doesn’t have to take it out yet. All the rubbish is still in there, and Zayn will have to deal with it eventually, but he’s buying himself a little time, at least.

Plus, as Louis continuously tells himself, he wants to have as much of Harry as he can, and if he can’t have all of him, he’ll take what he can get. It’s the same attitude he had towards his grades in high school. That’s probably why he works full time at a coffee shop. But most likely it’s because he dropped out of university two months into it. Thoughts about that are under Zayn’s foot at the bottom of the bin as well.

When they’re done, Harry lays back. “C’mere, Lou,” he says, yawning. “I wanna spoon you.”

“Don’t you want to shower?” asks Louis, although the urge to get up and clean himself is slowly ebbing away.

“No, it’s the middle of the night, I’m tired,” Harry whines.

“It’s ten pm,” Louis replies, but Harry is making grabby hands at him like toddlers do when you take their toys away and it’s so fucking cute. Louis sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine, but at least let me go and get a cup of water.”

“Could you please bring me one too?” Harry asks, yawning again. Louis bites his top lip because he’s in way over his head for this stupid teddy bear of a boy.

“Sure,” he says, as he slips on some pants. He yawns a little and stretches his back as he heads to the kitchen he’s been in a hundred times. The apartment is dark and all the lights are off and everything’s quiet and so Louis wonders if Niall is even home. If he is, then it’s kind of strange for him to be in bed by nine pm, even if it is a Wednesday.

Louis fills up two cups at the tap and then turns around, heading back down the hall to Harry’s room. As he’s walking he hears voices and he pauses. He recognizes Liam’s voice and wonders what Liam is doing at Niall’s at ten pm. The thought suddenly crosses his mind that Liam and Niall might be having some kind of affair. He dismisses the thought immediately, though. Liam would never go for someone as wild as Niall.

He does, however, want to go say hello. So he heads towards Niall’s room, the cups of water still in his hands. The door is open a fair way and as Louis gets closer he starts to make out words. He slows down a little, for no reason other than to eavesdrop, because he is, after all, a very nosey person. He hears Liam speaking to Niall in a very sympathetic and Liam-y voice.

“Hey, it’s all gonna be alright, calm down,” he is saying gently. “You don’t even know if it’s yours.”

Louis’ heart skips a beat and he steps into the doorway. Please, Jesus, no, not that.

“I saw her today, Liam!” Niall is saying loudly. He’s upset, and he’s pacing. His accent is always stronger when he’s upset, or angry, or both. “She looks exactly like me! And how long’s it been since I’ve seen Harper? What, two years? That kid looked exactly the right fucking age, Liam, this is beyond okay!”

Louis feels like this is the time to step in. He clears his throat awkwardly and both of their heads shoot around to look at him. “Uh, hey,” he says. “I just came to say hello, and, uh, goodnight.”

“Louis-” Liam begins.

“You, uh, you-?” Niall starts, looking worried.

“Yeah,” says Louis. “I’m sorry. I was just coming down the hall to see you guys before I went to bed and I kinda… Well, yeah.”

“Lou, I need you to keep this to yourself, okay?” Niall says, walking over. He looks so stressed out, and worried, and has he lost weight? Maybe it’s just the dark circles under his eyes. Louis is very concerned about him.

“Yeah, Niall, course, I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear,” says Louis, and he’s not really even sure he’s processed this information yet.

“Thanks, Lou,” says Niall. He rubs his eyes and yawns. “I need to sleep, I can’t deal with this shit right now.”

“Good idea,” Liam pipes up as he stands. He walks over and pats Niall on the back. “There’s nothing else to be done tonight. You need a good night’s rest and you can call Harper in the morning. Okay?”

“Yeah,” says Niall, and he looks as if he’s falling asleep already.

“Night buddy,” says Louis. Buddy? Really? Well, he has always been awful in times of crisis. Niall doesn’t notice though. He’s too busy shutting them out without another word.

As soon as the door shuts, Louis turns to Liam with wide eyes. Liam shakes his head and drags Louis into the living room by the arm. They stand there in the dark, nothing but the light from the city outside shining on them. Louis’ stomach is churning as the two of them begin to speak in hushed tones.

“Liam, what the fuck?” Louis hisses.

“I know, Lou,” Liam whispers back.
“What the hell happened? Am I an uncle to some illegitimate dumpster baby?” Louis says.

“Louis,” Liam says warningly, trying to let him know that he’s being rude. Louis brushes it off.

“Liam, this is no time for niceties,” Louis says in disbelief. “Niall is a father, for fuck’s sake!”

“Keep your voice down,” Liam whispers urgently. “Look, we don’t know anything for sure. All we know is that Niall saw Harper with a baby today. A baby who looks exactly the right age to be his baby. And now he’s so completely stressed out about it, he can barely form a coherent thought.”

“Well, when can Niall ever form a coherent thought with the amount that he drinks?” Louis says, trying to gesture before realizing he’s still got the water and rolling his eyes instead.

“Lou, this is serious, he’s really worried,” Liam tells him.
“I know!” Louis says in frustration. “But you’re right. There isn’t anything else we can do now. We just have to wait until tomorrow, I suppose.”

“Meet me at the café tomorrow at ten. Just you and Niall, okay?” Liam asks.

“But-” Louis begins, but Liam cuts him off.

“He doesn’t want anyone knowing yet,” says Liam, and Louis understands.

“Okay,” he says. “Yeah, alright.”

“Night Lou,” Liam says, heading for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night dad,” says Louis, glad that someone has a level head.

He turns around to go back to Harry’s room, still holding the two cups. When he gets back to the room and pushes open the door, he sees that Harry is asleep. Louis smiles to himself as he sets the two cups down and turns out the light. Then he slips under the covers and Harry mumbles something as he puts his arms around Louis and pulls him in.

For a few seconds, he’s back in that euphoric state of ignorance. Then he remembers that he’s got to keep Niall’s possible paternity suit a secret from his melancholic best friend and the boy that he’s definitely not in love with.

Woe is he.

☀☀☀

At nine the next morning, Louis slips out of bed and heads to the shower. While he’s in there he wonders what they could possibly talk about at this weird meeting today. He’s also very nervous and he’s got this feeling that he thinks is some sick sense of excitement. It’s a confusing time.

When he’s done showering he gets dressed in the black work clothes he brought with him, since he starts at eleven anyway. He thanks god he remembered them this time. Last time he’d forgotten and had had to spend a whole shift in Harry’s way-too-big clothes. He looked like a disaster. Although, he was comfortable. Despite this though, he wasn’t ready to repeat the mistake, and had remembered to bring a change.

At nine thirty he knocked on Niall’s door and, surprisingly enough, Niall was awake. He was just sitting on the edge of his bed, face in his hands, and Louis was struck with this awful sense of sadness. His poor friend must be so stressed out right now.

“Niall,” says Louis, sitting down next to him.

“I’m not ready to be a dad, Lou,” he says. Louis wants to make a joke. Something about this feeling like a soapie or a drama romance novel. But he resists the urge and he puts a hand around Niall’s shoulders.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go find out.”

Niall sighs and gets up. The two of them leave the apartment, Harry still sleeping peacefully in bed. Louis sends him a text so as not to seem rude. He just didn’t want to bother coming up with a lie to get away with Niall, and so this was easier.

When they get to the coffee shop, Liam is already sitting at a table. There are one or two other people around, for once, and Louis is kind of surprised. He doesn’t bother to comment on it, though. This is far too dramatic a time. So he and Niall sit by Liam.

“So what do we do?” asks Louis, straight away.

“Niall, you’ve got to call her,” Liam says.

“And say what?” asks Niall. “‘Hey, haven’t spoken in two years but I saw you with a kid the other day and I was just wondering if it was mine?’”

“Sounds about right to me,” says Louis.

Niall sighs and presses his temples. “Right,” he says, standing up. “I’m going to do it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hey, Niall,” says Liam, and Louis gets ready for one of his famous Liam Pep Talks. “I know you’re scared. But someone I really admire once wrote, ‘when in darkness fear strikes, wisdom finds itself the only light.’ It means that, yeah, you’re scared, but you’re wise, too, you’ve been through a lot, and that’s what’s going to help you overcome it. Everything is going to be fine, Niall. Okay?”

Niall rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth turns up in a tiny smile, and Louis knows that Liam hit home. “Yeah, yeah, thanks,” he says as he steps outside to make what is possibly the most important phone call of his life so far.

“That was really nice, Liam,” says Louis, turning to him.
“Thanks, Lou,” says Liam. “Nice to hear you finally say that. Usually I get, ‘fuck off Liam, you’re not Hemmingway,’ but this is good too.”

Louis laughs. “Yeah, I know, sorry,” he says. “Hey, who said that wisdom thing, by the way? I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere. It kinda sounds like something Dumbledore would say.”

Liam laughs and shakes his head. He also kind of blushes a little and he gets this really endearing smile on his face as he looks up at Louis. “It’s not a Harry Potter quote,” he says. “It’s actually from a poem.”

“You read poetry?” Louis scoffs. How many tortured souls does he need in his life? One is plenty, thank you very much. He has enough trouble dealing with Zayn as it is.

“I don’t read a lot of it,” says Liam. “But about a year ago my cousin had a poem published in this obscure magazine. I picked up a copy and I read a poem in it by this amazing writer, and I’ve had a bit of a crush on him ever since.”

Louis’ heart stops. It couldn’t be. There is no fucking way. No fucking way in hell. “What’s the guys name?” asks Louis, heart racing.

“Gilligan Gone,” says Liam, and Louis can’t stop his eyes widening and his jaw dropping. He suddenly finds himself believing in some sort of cosmic power because there’s no way this is a coincidence. Liam reads Zayn’s poetry. And, even more surprising, he actually likes it. Has the entire world just gone backwards? Niall has a child; Liam likes Zayn. The next thing he knows Zayn is going to get a job and stop bumming around.

“What?” Liam asks, looking at Louis’ shocked expression. Before Louis can even fathom some kind of response to what’s just happened, Niall re-enters the coffee shop. Saved by the tinkly bell.

“What happened?” asks Louis immediately, letting the conversation take a new turn.

“She’s got a new number or something,” says Niall despondently. “It’s been disconnected.”

“Well, it has been two years,” says Louis.

“Don’t give up, Ni,” says Liam. “Would you like some help tracking her down?”

“Maybe another day,” says Niall. “For now, I think I’m going to get pissed.”

He leaves the shop without another word. Liam turns to Louis. “It’s ten thirty in the morning,” he says, as if he’s never heard of alcoholism.

“Go watch him, he’s a danger to himself and society,” says Louis. Liam pauses for only a second before nodding and running after Niall. Louis sighs. Everyone is messed up completely.

He clocks in half an hour early since the episode of Dr. Phil ended before schedule. He mostly spends the day making coffee for the hipsters that come in and watching as the sky fades to darker shades of grey. He likes it, though. Likes the storms that come and somehow mirror the chaotic plethora of seemingly unsolvable complications that plague him. He spends the rest of the day reminding himself to stop using big words lest he turn into Zayn.

When Louis finally drags himself home at six in the evening he enters the apartment to see Zayn smoking on the balcony and watching the rain. He looks unusually pensive, but Louis knows that’s what he’s aiming for. Zayn has plenty of deep thoughts but he often prefers to appear much more sorrowful than he actually is. Louis wonders how he will feel when he hears what Liam has to say about his poetry.

“Zayn,” he calls as he pulls a muesli bar out of the cupboard. Zayn turns and looks mildly surprised to see him. He puts out his cigarette and flicks it over the balcony before stepping inside.

“Hey Lou, how was your day?” he asks, running a hand through his damp hair.

“Not bad,” he says. “Hey, which poem was it when you said something about wisdom being the only light in fear?”

Zayn frowns. “Um,” he begins. “I think it was one from a while ago. One about the fear of yourself and how to overcome it.”

Ironic, Louis thinks, considering Zayn is still very much afraid of himself. What he says, though, is, “Liam quoted it today.”

Zayn doesn’t comprehend these words at first. But after a few beats his head snaps up so fast that Louis almost gets whiplash just from seeing it. Zayn stutters for a bit, not really saying anything at all, before he finally finds words. “What did you do?” he asks. Louis frowns.

“Zayn, I didn’t do anything,” Louis says, confused.

“Well there’s no way I’d ever show him my poems, so it must have been you!” Zayn exclaims, panic lighting up his eyes.

“Zayn-” Louis begins, ready to explain the while situation rationally. It’s a misunderstanding. Zayn’s a reasonable person. He’ll understand as soon as he gives Louis a chance to explain.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Lou!”

Oh, wait, Zayn is none of those things and Louis is beginning to wish he was never born at the thought of the Zayn rage that is about to ensue.

Thanks, Liam.

Chapter Text

The sun sets and rises again the next day and for some stupid reason that Louis can not understand, Zayn has continued in his ridiculous fit of unwarranted rage. However, when Zayn throws a tantrum, he doesn’t do what any normal person would do and put up a complete cold front, or even express his anger, whether through shouting, screaming, or a controlled and coherent sentence.

No, when Zayn gets mad, he likes to parade his anger around so that Louis is well aware, one hundred and ten percent of the time, that Zayn is angry. He slams doors, he throws things, he huffs and puffs and sighs. Once, a year or so ago, when he was in the midst of one of these rages, he actually went into Louis’ bedroom, while Louis was in it, and sat in the corner and sighed for about half an hour. Louis usually loses arguments because he gets so annoyed and fed up that he apologizes just so he doesn’t have to deal with it anymore.

This particular argument is no different from the rest. However, Louis would like the chance to explain to Zayn that he has done absolutely nothing wrong, but so far Zayn has not budged. So when Louis gets up on Friday to go to work, he makes his toast, has a shower, does his hair, and then gets ready to leave, Zayn continues to ignore him.

“Bye Zayn, I’ll see you later,” says Louis. Zayn haughtily turns away like an eight-year-old girl. Louis rolls his eyes and leaves.

When he gets to work, as always, Liam is already there. He’s wiping down the coffee machine because Louis didn’t do it before he left yesterday. Liam, however, doesn’t seem to mind. He never minds. “Morning Lou, how are you?” he smiles.

“Tired of being alive,” says Louis. Liam just laughs.

The day wears on and eventually it’s two in the afternoon and Liam is mopping up some disgusting red drink that a kid spilled earlier on while Louis plays Bejeweled and eats a pastry that he won’t pay for. After a while it starts to rain and Louis is just thinking that it’s almost dark and dreary enough for Zayn to come out when voila, there he is.

“Hey Zayn,” Liam says.

“Hey Liam,” says Zayn, sitting down and making a point of looking anywhere but at Louis.

“Hey Zayn,” Louis says, just because sometimes he likes to stir the pot. Zayn ignores him.

“Do you want some help Liam?” asks Zayn, in a voice that Louis recognizes from when his sisters used to pretend he wasn’t there when they were angry as children.

“No, thank you though!” says Liam, smiling and turning around, and suddenly he’s slipping and falling in the puddle that he’s just made from mopping. Louis jumps and Zayn jumps but Liam catches himself just in time, steadying himself with a nearby table. Unfortunately, the contents of his sweater pocket were unable to save themselves, and slipped out of the side and all over the floor.

“Oh, here,” says Zayn, going to pick them up, while Louis laughs at Liam’s stunned face.

“Wow, that was close,” Liam is saying with wide eyes and a surprised smile. Louis loses it at how Liam is practically a cartoon character in a Disney movie.

“Here Liam, you dropped your stuff,” Zayn is saying, handing Liam his phone, a pen, and what looks like a receipt.

“Thanks Zayn,” Liam smiles. “Oh, could you hand me that as well?” He points at a piece of paper that’s sitting on the ground by Zayn’s feet. Louis’s shocked that Zayn missed it; he was so desperately picking up everything Liam dropped.

“Oh,” Zayn says, as he reaches down. He looks at the loose bit of notebook paper as he picks it up, and Louis sees his eyes go wide and his face go pale. He frowns, and wonders what it could be. Then he realizes. And he knows he’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face right now because Zayn is about to lose this argument.

“What-?” Zayn begins, not even able to finish his sentence, as he holds out the paper to Liam.

“Thanks,” Liam says, about to take it but catching himself in another thought. “Oh, actually, would you like to read it? It’s one of my favourite poems. I was going to give it to Niall since he’s a bit down. Lou, it’s that one I told you about yesterday, remember?”
“Uh, nope, don’t recall,” says Louis, looking straight at Zayn. Zayn shakes his head frantically at Louis as he holds Liam’s copy of his own poem in his hands.

“How can you have forgotten already?” Liam asks, rolling his eyes and smiling. “It’s by the writer I told you about, Gilligan Gone. This one’s called Dead Weight and Broken Things. You know, and I quoted it yesterday?”

“Of course, now I remember,” says Louis, still staring at Zayn who appears to be on the verge of a stroke.

“What do you think of it Zayn?” asks Liam, turning back to Zayn. Zayn starts and looks at the paper, pretending to read and then he smiles a shaky smile at Liam.

“I, uh, I like it,” says Zayn, who’s so pale he looks like a ghost.

“Yeah, me too,” Liam says, smiling warmly. “If you want I can give you some other stuff by him to read.”

“Gee, I didn’t know you were so into poetry Liam,” says Louis, not even bothering to hide how smug he’s feeling right now.

“Louis I swear I told you all of this already,” Liam replies, frowning, and yeah, he did, but having Liam repeat himself in front of Zayn is not only a more authentic form of proof that Louis was right all along, it’s also far more entertaining than if Louis was to just recount the conversation to Zayn himself.

“Well, you know me Liam, I’m a bit of a bastard, I don’t really pay attention a lot of the time,” says Louis, smiling sweetly, looking between Liam and Zayn.

Liam sighs. “I just really like this one author, I don’t know, he’s just got a lot to say about love that really hits me quite hard, you know?” Liam says.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” Louis says, nodding as if he is deep in thought. He then turns to Zayn. “What do you think, Z?”

“Uh, I, uh, I dunno,” Zayn says, and Louis knows he is going to get so much shit for this, but he really just could not care less right now. “I’ve only read the one poem.”

“Oh, come on Zayn, you love poetry,” says Louis. “I think you know a lot more than you’re letting on.”

“I think you’re a fuckwit,” says Zayn, staring straight at Louis with murder in his eyes.

“Anyway,” says Liam, ignoring the both of them. “I think it’s time for me to go. I’ll see you guys tonight, yeah?”

“Well, it is a Friday, after all,” says Louis. “I would expect no less than you three turning up at my apartment to get drunk and trash the place whether I like it or not.”

“Bye Lou,” says Liam, laughing, as he gets his jacket and heads out the door. “Bye Zayn.”

As soon as the door shuts behind Liam, Zayns head spins around slowly towards Louis as if he’s a monster in a horror movie. It really would be quite terrifying if Louis weren’t already deep into the laughing fit that he’d been holding in for the last ten minutes. But he calms down eventually, and Zayn speaks.

“What the fuck, Louis?” he asks. Well, doesn’t really ask. Shouts would be a better word.

“Zayn, I didn’t do this!” Louis exclaims, still laughing a little bit. “He found your poems on his own! And he likes them! This has nothing to do with me, for Christ’s sake. It’s all to do with the fact that for reasons far, far beyond my understanding, Liam actually enjoys reading the absolute garbage that you come up with.”

Zayn is silent for a few moments. He seems to be considering this. Louis wonders if perhaps he is going to apologise for overreacting and blaming Louis for something that he had absolutely nothing to do with. Of course, there’s no way in hell that that would happen, and Zayn simply continues to be his absolutely convoluted and overdramatic self, and proceeds to actually physically drop to the floor and lament his existence for the next twenty minutes, during which time Louis systematically ignores him and thinks about the sex he will be having later on in the evening.

When it reaches night time and all five of them are finally getting drunk in Louis and Zayns apartment, there is something very off about the air in the room. Louis supposes that it’s probably being caused by a number of things. For example, Niall may possibly be a father, or maybe the fact that Zayn has recently discovered that Liam reads the poems that Zayn writes about Liam, or that Louis and Harry have recently been putting their dicks in very inappropriate places (i.e., each other). But there’s something else, and Louis just isn’t sure what it is.

“Is everything okay, Liam?” asks Harry then, and ah, right, it’s that Liam has barely said two words to anyone since he arrived, not to mention the fact that he hasn’t cooked anything, and he’s been drinking just a little too fast for Louis’ liking.

“Huh?” asks Liam, looking up from where he has just been staring into his beer.

“I just asked if everything was okay,” Harry says, frowning. He’s sitting on the floor, knees resting against the coffee table, back against the couch. Louis is sitting on the couch just by him, his left hand lazily playing with Harry’s curls. He wonders if this is how couples act. Then he stops wondering that because that’s a stupid thing to wonder.

“Oh,” says Liam, and he smiles weakly, and Louis feels like he’s looking at a puppy that’s just been kicked or something. “Yeah, no it’s okay.”

“Liam, don’t be stupid, what’s the matter?” asks Niall. He doesn’t exactly say it pleasantly, either, and while Liam doesn’t seem to care, Louis feels like hitting him a bit. Whenever he’s sad, Liam is like a baby bird that needs to be nursed back to health. He’s so weak and fragile and it makes Louis beyond sad.

“It’s a bit silly really,” says Liam. “I’ve just… Well, Tyler and I have stopped seeing each other.”

“Oh god, why?” asks Louis. Tyler must die. Tyler must die. Tyler must die.

“I don’t know, he just said something about wanting someone who was more fun,” says Liam, looking at his feet and Louis is going to kill shit-dick Tyler.

“That’s stupid,” says Niall bluntly, as Harry gets up to go sit next to Liam and sling an arm around his shoulder for comfort. “You are fun, Li. You’re the most fun.”

“Well, I don’t know, I thought so too,” says Liam. “But after he said that it just got me thinking, I don’t really do anything fun.”

“Of course you do, Liam,” says Zayn now, speaking up to defend Liam. “You’re the most fun person I know!”

“That’s fucking rude Zayn,” says Louis, eyeing Zayn off, and Liam laughs a little.

“Thanks Zayn,” he says. “I don’t know, I just think maybe I’m not feeling it tonight. Would you guys care if I went home?”

“No, of course not,” says Harry.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. “Do what you gotta do.” Poor Liam. Poor, poor Liam. Louis thinks that maybe Tyler can go sit on a knife after all, because Liam does not deserve to look this sad.

“I think I might go too,” says Niall, and yeah, that’s understandable. He may have an illegitimate child running around out there somewhere.

Liam and Niall pack up their things and head home at possibly the earliest time they’ve ever gone home from Louis and Zayns house before. Harry stays, of course, because he was always going to say, because he and Louis had plans to do disgusting things to each other once the night was over.

“Poor Liam,” says Zayn, then, and oh, how could Louis have not thought about Zayn. He must be having the time of his life right now. Harry says it before Louis does, though.

“Just let it out Zayn,” he says. “No need to pretend.”

“What are you talking about?” asks Zayn.

“You gotta be happy about this,” Harry says. “You know, since you’re in love with him and all.”

Zayns head whips around to look at Louis so fast Louis doesn’t know how he didn’t get whiplash. Louis sighs. He’s going to get in trouble now for telling Harry about Zayn loving Liam. Except for the part where he didn’t tell Harry anything and it’s so fucking obvious and the only reason Niall and Liam can’t tell is because they’re stupid and clueless, respectively.

“Louis what did you do?” Zayn asks.

“Relax Zayn,” Harry laughs. “I just figured it out on my own. You know, from all the staring, and the pining, and you getting tongue-tied all the time.”

“He’s right, Zayn, you do act like an eight year old girl,” Louis agrees, sipping from his wine glass.

“I’ll have you both know that I would never take pleasure in Liams misery, even if it means he is now single and no longer dating that fucking asshat Tyler,” Zayn says. He says ‘Tyler’ as if the word tastes disgusting on his tongue, and in all honesty, it probably does.

“Zayn, no one here is insinuating that you’re an asshole,” says Louis. “Except me. I am insinuating that. Because you are an asshole. Do you know how I know that? You are smiling right now. In fact, you aren’t even paying attention to me because you’re thinking horrible cutesy thoughts about Liam that I know you’re going to actually voice out loud tomorrow despite whether or not I want to hear it. Isn’t that right Z?”

“I’m going to bed,” is all Zayn says, as Harry is laughing. Going to bed to wank over the thought of he and Liam getting married, probably. But Louis doesn’t care. Because as soon as Zayn is out of the room, he and Harry are all over each other. They’re kissing and touching each other and breathing heavily and they barely make it to Louis’ room before they start taking off each others clothes.

When they’re done with their marathon of amazing sex, that’s when Louis decides it’s the right moment to completely fuck up his entire life. He doesn’t do it on purpose or anything. He never does anything on purpose. It’s just, Harry is spooning him, and Louis can smell his shampoo, and everything is so hazy since he’s a little bit tipsy and coming down from his sex-high, and he just really is so happy. Happier than he’s been in a really long time. So it really is an accident. And he doesn’t mean it. It just happens.

“Night Lou,” Harry mumbles, his voice low and croaky and perfect.

“I love you,” Louis says, just as he is about to fall asleep, and the air in the room changes immediately. “I mean,” he continues, trying to backtrack, but he can’t think of what he actually means.

Harry sits up slowly and doesn’t look at Louis as he says, “I’m, uh, I’m sorry Lou, I just… I gotta get home. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

He pulls on his shirt and Louis sits up in bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin and hugging his knees. He just can’t say anything. He’s trying, he’s opening and closing his mouth like a fish, trying to force words to come out but also trying to suck those words back in.

“Don’t go,” is all he can say, and he doesn’t realise how close he is to crying until he hears his own voice. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because by the time the words leave his mouth, Harry is already out the door.