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Chapter Text

Thursday, part I
Louis’ POV

As they step inside the lake house they are met with the familiar aroma of wood and lemon cleaner, and Louis is immediately hit with the kind of peace he didn’t realise he was craving until he was back here again. 

This place always brings him a kind of serenity. The surroundings are peace-inducing with their lush woods, the gorgeous lake, and the quiet that surrounds them. No traffic, honking or stressed out people going at each other's throats just because they can.

Mostly though, it's the people who own this lake house. Harry's mum and stepdad bought it almost ten years ago, and Louis has been a frequent guest along with Harry and his family, as well as members of his own family. He's been friends with Harry since he was 10. Their families are woven together like one big, chaotic family. Anne is practically as much a mum to him as Jay is. They're that close. 

“God, I’ve missed this place,” Louis says, kicking off his shoes and leaving them just inside the door. Harry has already gone ahead, tugging the curtains open in the front room to let the afternoon light spill in. It’s the middle of August, so it’ll be a few hours before that special time of day, the hour before sunset that turns the sky into the most magnificent ever-changing canvas. Louis loves the light that golden hour always creates, but he finds it especially breathtaking at the lake house. 

“See?” Harry grins over his shoulder. “Told you I’d get us here in time to make dinner before everyone else arrives. 

Louis snorts. “Only because I drove. You’d still have us stuck in traffic on the M25, swearing at the GPS.”

Harry squints his eyes at him. “That was one time.”

“It was three. Don’t even lie about it,” Louis replies, looking unimpressed. 

Harry flips him off but says nothing. Louis smiles triumphantly. 

The house is big, but somehow still warm and full of memories. It's Anne's touch, he's sure. They've spent summer holidays here, had birthday and graduation parties. They even spent Christmas here one year, when Louis was off at uni and Harry was stuck in 6th form, and they had refused to spend Christmas apart. Their mums had given in quickly, and it's the most magical Christmas Louis has ever had. 

Harry has become a master at organising their long weekends away with their uni friend group. This is their sixth year, and he makes spreadsheets for food and carpooling, prepares the house, and patiently reminds everyone to book the days off until they have all emailed him the confirmation. These weekends wouldn't happen without Harry, who insists that he does it to keep everyone connected, but Louis knows Harry just likes looking out for people. 

He takes his hosting duties very seriously, and he has dragged Louis along to help him this year. They're prepping the rooms, getting dinner ready, lighting some candles, and throwing on a playlist so it's all perfect when the rest of the group arrive. 

Louis was supposed to arrive with everyone else this year. He was supposed to be carpooling with Jeremy, his (now ex) boyfriend, and with Niall and his newish girlfriend Amelia. It was in Harry's spreadsheet and everything, but sometimes plans change, like when you break up.

Louis trails Harry through the house, watching as he moves from room to room, checking that the towels are folded and the sheets are fresh. He re-arranges the pillows and fluffs the covers in the rooms Louis was supposed to be in charge of, but Louis simply smiles. He knows it makes Harry happy for everything to be perfect for their friends, and he reasons that he still saves Harry a bit of time, since he changed the sheets. 

Louis notices how the throw pillows seem to match in a way he's not used to. "Did you get matching throw pillows for every bed?" Louis calls after him, as Harry's moving on to the next room, his curls bouncing with every step. 

His suspicion sticks when they enter the last bedroom, and he smirks at Harry when he sees the matching pillows in this room too. 

“Excuse you,” Harry says, sounding scandalised. “They are coordinated, not matching.”

Louis snorts once again, looking at him with fondness seeping out of every pore. “Right, right. My mistake.” 

“By the way, Lou,” Harry says, looking a little sheepish. “Niall begged for the big room for him and Amelia. Lottie and Lewis need a room, too. Ed and Cherry have a room, so does Zayn and Liam, and Bella and Jess. I hope you don’t mind sharing with me?”

“It won’t exactly be the first time we share, now will it?” Louis grins. “Just don’t hog the covers.”

Harry rolls his eyes. "What are you even on about? I don't hog the covers. You're the one who sleeps so restlessly that you throw them off," Harry argues. "Why do you think I cuddle you so often when we share a bed? It’s obviously so you don’t push me out.”

“Shut up, I’ve never pushed you out of the bed!” Louis says, affronted. 

Harry grins wickedly. “Maybe not, yet. But I bet you want to, so I’m just taking precautions.”

Louis looks at him pointedly. "If I wanted to push you out of bed, it would be because you bite."

Harry shrugs, a little flushed for being called out, Louis bets. “I do bite,” he admits.

"You do. And you always have. Have you ever unpacked why you're so weird?" Louis asks, mostly teasing, but with a little bit of honest interest, too.

"Not really," Harry says, almost cheerfully. Definitely unbothered again. He's so hard to rattle, and Louis adores that about him. "But you love it," he adds cheekily.

Louis opens his mouth with a witty reply ready. He's obviously going to deny it, even if Harry's not one hundred percent wrong. He doesn't get the chance to, and instead, he jumps slightly when Harry steps right into his personal space and tugs at his shoulder to expose the crook of his neck. He leans in and sinks his teeth into the skin gently. It's a warm, firm pressure with just a hint of sharpness to it. 

“Oi!” Louis laughs, elbowing him. “What was that for?”

“You were being cheeky and I wanted a cuddle,” Harry grins, smug as anything. 

Louis rolls his eyes at his best friend affectionately, but he doesn’t pull away. He never does. “You’re needy.”

“Obviously,” Harry says, like that’s nothing new.

Louis supposed it isn’t and lets out a long-suffering sigh before he wraps his arms around Harry anyway, burying his face in his shoulder. It’s warm there, familiar too. There’s something about the way Harry hums quietly into his neck that makes Louis hold on a second longer than necessary. 

They've always been like this. Close, some would say too close. A little tangled. Harry is touchy, and Louis lets him be. But it's not just to Harry's benefit. Sometimes Louis needs grounding, and Harry just knows. He has always been very empathic and obnoxiously good at reading Louis’ emotions, especially if he’s distraught about something.

It’s not weird. It has never been weird. Not for them, at least. For people around them who aren’t family, who haven't seen them be this way with each other since they were ten and eight — well, that’s another story. 

Louis pulls back and claps Harry affectionately on the back before rubbing the spot on his neck that Harry bit. “Alright, alright. Affection quota filled. Now go make your stupid lasagne.”

Harry gasps. Mock-offended. “You love my lasagne.”

“Eh, it’s decent,” Louis very blatantly lies with a smirk. 

Harry slaps his shoulder. “It’s legendary, you gremlin.”

"Who are you calling a gremlin, Bambi?" Louis grins as he heads towards the kitchen. 

“You open the wine, Lou. I’ll chop the onions,” Harry says, coming up to walk beside him. 

They settle into a rhythm easily. Harry bustles between the counter and the oven, while Louis uncorks a few bottles of red and lines up the mismatched glasses on the counter. They trade jibes and insults back and forth, like always, but underneath it, there's a comfort that Louis doesn't question. One that comes with being that close to someone for so long. He catches himself watching the way Harry moves so elegantly, sleeves rolled up and fingers stained with tomato paste, and it leaves him with a feeling of home. 

They're easy. Their relationship has always been easy. They have always been close and touchy. Always sharing each other's highs and lows. Always being each other's emergency contact and the first person they think to call in any situation, even when they have been in relationships with other people. And Louis has never given it a second thought because that's how they work. His partners haven't always been as appreciative of Harry as he has, though. Some have learned the hard way that if you make him choose between Harry and them, they will find themselves on the losing side, without question. 

There has to be someone out there for him who will see his and Harry's relationship for what it is and be okay with it. He just hasn't found the right person yet.

He's shaking out a tablecloth when the first car pulls up outside. Voices tumble out— Lottie's loud laugh that instantly puts a smile on his face, Niall's shout, and the deep rumble of Lewis' reply. Amelia hangs back a little, eyes wide at the huge lake house sprawled out in front of her. Harry is already wiping his hands and heading for the door. 

The last of their friends arrive shortly after and the house is full within minutes. Shoes kicked off, bags dumped in corners, hugs and greetings flying left and right. Jess and Bella receive bear hugs from all of the boys –  their uni-group – because they don't see them as often as they'd like. They moved to London for work after uni, while the rest of them stayed in or around Manchester. 

The girls brought dessert, and Zayn is already eyeing the bottle Louis opened, leaving Liam to bring the bags in from the car. Cherry's got her camera out, Ed has his guitar swung over a shoulder, and Lottie is trying to convince everyone to go for a swim before dinner. 

Louis hangs back a little, letting the chaos unfold without adding to it for once. He loves the moments when he just gets to observe and smile at his friends and their joy for finally being together at the lake house again. 

He watches as Harry, flushed and beaming, hands out plates of lasagne and jokes with Zayn about wine pairings, and everyone finds a seat at the table. The house smells incredible, filled with the aroma of roasted garlic and sweet tomatoes, and it feels impossibly warm.

And through it all, Louis feels Harry's presence like gravity, like he always does. Right there, pulling at him quietly. He shakes it off, trying to stay present. 

“Oi,” Harry says, appearing beside him with two glasses of red. “You gonna make me do all the hosting?”

Louis takes the glass and clinks it against Harry's. "Wouldn't dream of it, Bambi." 

It earns him a shoulder nudge from a radiant Harry. He’ll take it.

Chapter Text

Flashback: The School Courtyard. 
Louis, age 10 & Harry, age 8

Louis’ POV

Louis notices him straight away. No one gets through the gates of their primary school without everyone knowing who they are, where they live and what they had for breakfast. Louis watches him from across the courtyard, curly hair sticking out in every direction. He has a green lunchbox swinging in his hand as he walks a little strangely, like he's trying not to step on the cracks in the pavement. 

There's something about him, not in a bad way… just something. He's tiny. Probably Year 3, maybe even Year 2. He's definitely younger than Louis and the rest of his Year 5 friends. 

Louis watches as a couple of Year 4 boys walk past him and laugh under their breath, whispering about the weird new kid. 

The little boy either doesn't notice or pretends not to notice. It sucks to start at a new school at the end of the school year. Louis shakes his head and thinks that the boy isn't exactly making it easier for himself when he stops next to the school garden and crouches down to talk to a flower. Actually talk to it. 

Louis can't help but smile to himself. The new kid is a bit mad, but also sort of brilliant. Louis loves it when someone is strong enough to pave their own path, as his mum usually says about him. 

“Oi, Lou,” Noah says beside him, elbowing him in the ribs. “You see that new lad?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, narrowing his eyes. “What of him?”

Noah shrugs, already looking bored. “Reckon he’s a right weirdo.”

Louis turns his head sharply. “He’s talking to a flower. Probably smarter than both of us.”

Noah snorts. “Whatever you say.”

But Louis is already walking towards the new lad,  curiosity tugging with his every step. He approaches slowly, hands stuffed into his blazer pockets, pretending he's just heading in that direction anyway. When he gets closer, the boy stands up and squints at him. 

“You're blocking the sun. You're making a shadow,” the boy says matter-of-factly. 

Louis blinks. “Am I?”

The boy nods. “Yeah, it’s rude. The flower is trying to photosynthesise.”

Louis blinks again. “Photo-what? Flowers can’t take pictures.”

The boy smiles at him. Kindly, not like Louis is stupid. “Sunlight. Makes food, you know? It’s science.”

Louis just stares at him, and the boy looks like he's about to explain further, but Louis laughs, taken off guard by the sheer confidence in this tiny little lad. "Alright, Einstein. Sorry 'bout your plant."

Louis steps out of the way, and the boy hums, apparently satisfied. 

“I’m Harry,” he says, still watching Louis carefully. “I just moved here with my mum and my sister. We live four streets over.”

Louis nods. “I’m Louis. You’re not from Manchester, are you?”

Harry shakes his head. “Holmes Chapel. Do I sound different?”

“Bit posh,” Louis admits, teasing and grinning at Harry. “But I like it.”

Harry grins, too. Grin wide and a little toothy, like his front teeth are a little too prominent. He’s also got dimples that take over his whole face. He looks cute. Before he can say more, a bell rings. Students start heading inside, and Harry turns, unsure where he’s meant to go. Louis doesn’t even hesitate.

"Come on, Harry," he says, grabbing his hand to pull him along. "Who's your teacher? I'll help you."

Harry looks grateful. “It’s Mrs. Peterson. I’m in year 3.”

“Ah,” Louis smiles. “Mrs. Peterson was great. I loved her. You will too. I’m Year 5 by the way.”

By the time they reach Harry's classroom, Louis has already learned that Harry has a cat named Dusty, likes bananas, but only if they don't have brown bits, and that he sometimes steals Gemma's, his sister's, lip gloss, because he likes how it makes his lips shiny. 

Louis decides right then and there that they will become friends and that he will always protect Harry. 

Louis is late for his own class and is marked down for it, but it’s worth it. He made a new friend.

Louis can’t remember the last time the morning moved so slowly. He’s just waiting for lunch, so he can go and find Harry again. They spend lunch sharing their food and walking back to the garden, where Harry explains what photosynthesis actually is in words that Louis understands. He can remember his teacher mentioning it, but Harry explained it much better, he thinks. 

After school, they wait outside the gates together. Harry's got a stick in his hand that he's waving around like a wand. Louis is still laughing at something he said about Mr. Thompson's eyebrows when Harry suddenly leans over and bites his arm. 

“Oi!” Louis yelps, startled and a little angry. “What the hell was that for?”

Harry looks at him with wide eyes and chews his lip. “Sorry… sorry, I just… I dunno. I was happy. And you were funny. I do that sometimes,” he stammers, looking pensively at Louis, almost as if he’s scared of his reaction. 

Louis takes a deep breath to calm himself. “You bite people sometimes?” 

Harry nods. “Yes. Not hard or anything. Just a little. My mum says I need to stop, because not everyone will appreciate it.”

Louis rubs his arm, but doesn't actually feel mad anymore. It didn't hurt… much. He's experienced worse from his sisters. And Harry looks so earnest about it, blinking up at him with huge green eyes and a hopeful little smile. 

“I think your mum might be right. You can’t do that to strangers, Harry,” Louis says, giving him a reprimanding look. But before he can continue, Harry cuts him off. 

“But you're not a stranger Louis, you're my new bestest mate.” 

Louis looks down at the small lad stood beside him and can see the affection in Harry's eyes as he continues to look up at him.

Louis lets a fond smile appear before remembering what his mum says about his role as the eldest child at home, and the importance of setting boundaries with his younger siblings. He takes on what he hopes is a more serious expression before answering Harry. 

“Okay. But if you bite me again, I’m biting you back,” he explains.

“Deal”, Harry grins, relieved. 

When his mum honks the horn, Louis bids Harry goodbye and runs over, smiling at his mum. She's waiting in the car, window rolled down and sunglasses perched on top of her head. When he's close enough, she waves and calls out, "Good day?" 

“Yeah,” Louis says as he grabs the car door. “Can Harry come round?”

Jay blinks. “Harry?”

“My new mate,” Louis says, nodding to the curly-haired boy now waving enthusiastically from the pavement. “He’s dead smart, mum. He talks to plants and everything.”

Jay laughs. “Of course he does.”

“Can he come, though?” Louis asks impatiently, climbing into the back seat and buckling his seatbelt. 

Jay smiles at Louis through the rear-view mirror before glancing over towards Harry. "I'll need to speak to his mum first."

By the end of the week, Anne and Jay are sitting in the kitchen drinking tea like they've known each other for years. Gemma is sprawled on the sofa, rolling her eyes at Louis and Harry's antics. Harry is trying to teach Lottie how to braid baby Fizzy's hair, while Louis watches and offers commentary.

After the braiding lesson, Louis is on the floor next to Harry, building a tower out of the sofa cushions he has managed to steal from their siblings. He has plans to dare Harry to jump off it dramatically. It's like their families have just blended together in record time. Everyone is very comfortable with each other, and at some point, Harry leans over and bites Louis' shoulder through his t-shirt. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “You need to stop doing that, Harry.”

“But you’re soft,” Harry says with a shrug. “It’s nice.”

Louis sighs, but he can’t help but smile. “You’re mad, you are.”

“Still your mate, though. Right?” Harry asks, picking at the cuticle around his thumb nervously.

Louis doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, probably my best mate.”

Jay watches them from the kitchen and nudges Anne gently with her elbow. “They’re going to be trouble, those two.”

Anne hums, smiling at their sons like only a mother can. “The best kind.”

Chapter Text

Thursday, part II
Louis’ POV

By the time the lasagne trays are scraped clean and the dessert plates have been passed around twice, the sun has started its descent into the trees, and the house hums with comfort. There's lazy chatter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter that echoes off the trees. 

Out back, Zayn and Lewis have started kicking around a slightly deflated football. Louis knows there's a better one in the shed, and he hollers at them to let them know. Liam and Ed join in when Cherry dares them to "do something that doesn't involve holding a cocktail shaker." Amelia's curled up with Niall on the swing chair, her feet tucked under her, and Louis feels a pang of jealousy at the intimacy shared between them. It's replaced by a chuckle when he sees how Jess and Bella are trying to light the fire pit without singeing their eyebrows. 

Louis is leaning against the kitchen counter as he watches it all unfold through the open patio doors. He's got a drink in his hand, something red and citrussy that Lottie handed him with a wink and the promise that "something other than beer and a vodka redbull won't kill you."

"You've been awfully quiet," Harry says, as he leans back next to Louis, crossing his feet. "Contemplating your poor taste in drinks?" he chuckles, nudging Louis' shoulder, handing him an ice-cold beer.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Louis mumbles. “Lottie and her damn drinks. Bartending is definitely not a hidden talent of hers.”

“Well, good thing you have me then,” Harry says, smiling at him quickly before looking out at all of their friends. 

Louis lifts his glass to that, and when their shoulders bump again as Harry leans closer to grab his phone from the counter, neither of them moves away. 

That's the thing. They never really do.

It's always been like this— them hovering in the same corners of a room, drifting back together like magnets, sharing space like it's a given, because for them, it is. Louis doesn't think about it much. It's just Harry. His safest place. Instead of moving away from each other, they just exist together. 

After a couple of minutes, Louis steps away to refill the ice bucket. He finds Lottie sitting on the armrest of the sofa, swirling a wineglass with that nauseating citrussy drink, and watching him like a hawk. 

“You and Harry,” she says casually, but Louis knows her well enough to know there’s a loaded meaning behind her casual tone. 

"Me and Harry?" Louis asks cautiously, a little taken aback and surprised that Lottie is calling him out. "What about us?"

She shrugs. “You’re being very… magnetic tonight.”

"Oh, come off it," Louis groans. "We've always been like this, and you of all people know this.”

Lottie sips her drink and raises her eyebrows in that annoying way she’s always done, like she’s looking right through him. Well, tough luck. There’s nothing to see here.

“Lou, you two orbit around each other like you’re the only two people in any room,” she smirks.

"We're just mates," Louis grumbles, as annoyed with this conversation as he always is. 

“You always say that,” Lottie replies carefully.

“Probably because it’s true, you know?” he states, trying to force this conversation to be over.

She tilts her head and looks at him pensively. “Maybe, but if you two would just finally get your heads out of your arses this weekend, I’m taking full credit.”

“Shut up, Lotts,” Louis says, flicking her arm gently on the way back to the kitchen, muttering something about dramatic sisters and she’s delulu. He hears her grinning victoriously.

Later, Louis and Harry end up outside again without really deciding to. They're sitting on the back porch, the wood warm beneath them from the sun shining on it all day. It's a gorgeous view with the trees around the property. From the porch, they have an uninterrupted view of the lavender-painted sky as it lets go of the last rays of the day. The lake is still and glassy, and the quiet of their surroundings is peaceful. 

They haven't said a word since they came outside, but the sound of the others chatting in the background creates a quiet hum.

Harry sighs beside him, stretching his long legs out with a pleased huff. “Feels good to be back here, yeah?”

Louis hums in agreement. “I love how we all just pick up like no time has passed. It’s like we’re still in secondary school and sneaking alcohol into the basement.”

Harry laughs. “Heeeey, I never snuck anything. That was you,” Harry says, bumping their knees together and smiling. 

“Ah, my deepest apologies, Mr. Perfect,” Louis grins, before he continues, “now remind me who hid my flask in a cereal box so Anne wouldn’t find it.”

“Lou, I was saving us from certain death,” Harry states, panicky, like it was happening now instead of ten years ago. 

Louis laughs, his head tilted back. “Remember the time we flooded the laundry room?” 

Harry groans. “God, yes. You said you knew how to fix the machine.”

“I said I knew how to jiggle the cord so it would turn on, because that helped back at mine. It’s not my fault the hose exploded,” Louis explains, still feeling exasperated about it to this day. 

“You just stood there looking like you didn’t know how that could possibly happen,” Harry laughs, his whole face lighting up with the memory. 

Louis grins, one side of his lips tugging into a smirk. “You were the one who grabbed all the towels and tried to barricade the door.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” Harry argues. 

“Barely. Anne still grounded both of us for a week. I was just happy it was your mum deciding our punishment. My mum would have grounded me for at least two,” Louis says, enjoying the walk down memory lane. 

“Oh, she would have grounded me longer if you hadn’t been there. She has always had a soft spot for you. It’s those damn eyes,” Harry murmurs, looking at Louis accusingly. 

"What can I say? At least one of the Styles' is a sucker for my good looks and my charm," Louis snickers. 

“She’s not the only one,” Harry whispers, nearly inaudible. 

Louis isn't sure what he hears Harry say, but if he said what Louis thinks he did… well, he doesn't feel like making a joke of it. 

They sit in the lull that follows. The air surrounding them feels warm and comforting. Right, in a way that neither of them can quite explain. Quiet. Peaceful. They're in their own world as someone puts music on inside the house. Fleetwood Mac. Louis can't help but smile, and he catches the little smile tugging on Harry’s lips. It’s one of Harry’s favourite bands, and it’s perfect for this moment— soft and a little nostalgic.

“I've missed this,” Harry says after a moment. It’s quiet but certain. 

"Me too," Louis says instead of the “I missed you” that lingers on his lips. He thinks it, though. 

It's not like he doesn't see Harry several days a week, almost daily, really. It's just never the same when one of them is involved with someone, and they have been for a while. Not necessarily at the same time, but they can never be normal with each other when one of them is in a relationship. Someone always has a problem with it when they are their usual selves with each other. 

"HEY!" Zayn's voice pulls them out of their quiet moment. He's walking toward the porch before stopping ten feet away, barefoot and smug, a beer dangling from one hand. "Will you two be done being codependent soon?"

Louis flips him off as Harry just laughs. Louis knows Zayn is calling them out, but he’s doing it jokingly. The boys have never let either of them think that there’s anything wrong with how close they are. They have given them shit about it, though. Repeatedly. 

Niall joins in from across the lawn, cupping his hands around his mouth like he’s announcing something at a sports match. “Oi! Separate them before they start making out!” 

Laughter erupts among their friends, but it doesn't bother Louis. He can bring Niall down in the blink of an eye. "Don't be jealous, you didn't get the last slice of lasagne, Nialler," he yells back, a cheeky smile on his face.

That gets another chorus of laughter, and Louis shakes his head and mutters. "They're so annoying."

“They’re not completely wrong, though,” Harry says, bumping his shoulder gently. 

Louis raises an eyebrow. “About what? The making out?”’

Harry doesn’t answer. He just smiles and tilts his head. 

It’s nothing. It’s always nothing. But if it’s nothing, then why does Louis feel it in his chest? That magnetic pull towards Harry? He’s been ignoring it since he was 16 and Harry started getting taller and Louis started getting confused. He’s been going between convincing himself that it’s just how they are, and questioning everything he thought he knew about himself. 

"They're still convinced we're more than just friends," Louis sighs. 

"They always have been. At least they joke about it," Harry says, before pausing and smirking at Louis, "which is more than can be said of the different partners we've had through the years."

Louis nods, glancing at Harry. “Does it bother you?”

Harry shrugs. “That our friends tease us? Not at all. But it does make me sad that my weird habits and need to be close to you has cost both of us relationships. It's always my fault, and for that, I'm sorry.”

Oh.

Louis had no idea Harry blamed himself for all of their break-ups over the years. But it wasn't just on Harry. If Harry's biting was the only reason for the breakups,  then perhaps he'd have a point.  But it was never just about the biting, or Harry. "Haz…" he trails off, waiting to continue until Harry looks up at him. "If they don't understand, or can't handle our friendship, they're not the right person for us, okay?" 

Harry smiles at him, kind of sadly. “Thanks for saying that, Lou.”

Louis stands. A sad Harry is something Louis cannot accept. He is the sun of Louis' world, and he needs to always shine. "Stand up," he commands, spreading his arms. 

Harry giggles but shakes his head. 

“Come oooon, Hazza. Don’t leave me hanging like a fool,” Louis begs, still waiting with arms wide open for Harry to walk into.

And he finally does. He stands and lets Louis envelop him in the safety and comfort of his arms. They stay wrapped in each other’s arms for a few seconds before Harry dips his head and almost sinks his bunny teeth into the sensitive skin between Louis’ shoulder and neck.

Louis jerks away, removing himself from the embrace, laughing. “Do not start that again. You already did it once this afternoon,” he warns.

Harry grins sheepishly. “It’s just so… the soft spot is right there. It's so comforting.”

“That’s why I hugged you, you maniac,” Louis says, still keeping him at arm’s length. 

“I’m not a maniac. I’m more like… emotionally complex,” Harry decides after thinking on it for a heartbeat. 

“More like emotionally feral,” Louis grins, making sure Harry knows he doesn’t actually mind. 

They fall into another comfortable silence as they sit back down, both of them content to be sharing a quiet moment together. Crickets start up in the trees, and the firepit cackles to their right, with the girls already sitting around it to keep warm in the evening breeze. Cherry is telling a ghost story already, and like usual, Bella is hiding her face in her sweater paws. It's so familiar. 

Louis thinks about going inside for another drink. Thinks about not moving at all. 

This is normal. The pull on his heartstrings is nothing, is what he tells himself. Over and over again. It's always been like this, and if that's the case, then it's nothing. He has always felt happier when he’s with Harry. He’s always felt a little nervous flutter when Harry bites him. 

Again, normal. Not new. 

That's why he convinces himself that it's normal when Harry's knee is pressed against his, that the heat where they touch is nothing. That's also why, when Harry's arm brushes his as he stretches, the ache under his skin is also normal. 

It would be weird if the heat, aches, and fluttering had started when they were adults, but they'd been there for 17 years.

He doesn’t look at Harry again until Zayn’s voice carries over the porch once more, softer this time. 

“Lou,” he says, walking towards them, apparently on his way inside. “You coming to lose at cards or what?”

Louis groans and stands up slowly, stretching his arm as he does. “Prepare to weep, Malik.”

Harry stands, too, and walks into the house a few steps behind Louis and Zayn.

Chapter Text

Flashback: Bowling and Confessions
Louis, age 16 & Harry, age 14

Louis’ POV

They’ve gone bowling like they've done so many times before. It’s a Saturday night, so it’s loud and buzzing with neon lights and the distant ding of the arcade machines he and Harry plan to play after they finish annihilating everyone at bowling. 

The smell of buttered popcorn fills the air, and they succeed in getting Robin to buy them popcorn, even if Jay and Anne would have preferred if they didn't have any. Robin is like one of them, though. Louis sits back on the cracked leather bench with his legs spread wide and his feet up on the ball return, watching as Phoebe nearly falls over in her attempt to roll a ten-pound ball down the lane. Daisy squeals like she has just witnessed a miracle when it actually hits something. 

Harry cheers dramatically from the next lane. "STRIKEEEEE!"

"It was two pins," Louis yells to him. 

“Let her have her moment, you monster! She is 3!” Harry shouts back, grinning from ear to ear, his cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat. 

They're all here tonight - and it's a mess of shoes and laughter and fake competition. Their families haven't looked back since that first play date, and they try to all get together at least once during the week and often more. 

“Is that your third juice box?” Louis teases as Harry flops down beside him, sipping from a bright orange carton like it’s the elixir of life.

“They’re free today!” Harry grins, offering Louis a sip. “Live a little, Lou.”

“I’m sixteen. I need actual sugar,” Louis says, but takes a drink anyway to Harry’s delight. 

They lose to Anne and Gemma's team, and Harry blames it on the "fluorescent bowling lights interfering with his natural grace," which gets a snort from Gemma and a fond eye roll from Jay. By the time they're swapping the bowling shoes for their own, Louis has a plan in mind. 

“Sleepover?” he whispers to Harry, nudging him.

Harry nods, sharing a secret smile with him. “I’ll ask if you do.”

Five minutes later, they're in the backseat of Anne's car. Gemma is annoyed at the lack of space in the back, their arms crammed awkwardly, but she smiles at him when Louis looks at her apologetically. 

Anne and his mum had barely hesitated when they asked, and Louis suspects they expected it. Sleepovers are not as common now as when they were younger, but there are still very few things in the world as comforting to Louis as sharing a bed with Harry. 

It's nearly midnight when they finally crawl into Harry's bed. They've changed into worn-out t-shirts, with Louis borrowing one of Harry's soft and oversized ones. Harry smells like coconut shampoo and minty toothpaste, his skin a little damp from the world's fastest shower. He had refused to get into bed smelling of teenager. Puberty has hit Harry now, too, and he has grown so much in the last year, almost taller than Louis already.

The fairy lights over the headboard flicker, throwing soft shadows against the ceiling and the walls. Harry stole the idea from Louis. Hanging fairy lights had been his idea, and Harry had copied it. It's summer, so it's warm enough for them to only need to pull the thin duvet halfway up their legs. Harry has a small double, so they usually sleep here when they do have sleepovers. They can fit comfortably here without practically lying on top of each other. 

They lie on their sides, facing each other, their knees bumping accidentally while getting comfortable. Harry’s arm is tucked under his cheek, his face relaxed in the glow. 

“I love when we do this,” Louis murmurs, his voice low in the hush between them. 

“Me too,” Harry says softly. “I hate when we go too long without sleepovers. It’s like the world gets off balance.”

Louis laughs under his breath. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not wrong, though,” Harry whispers. 

“Don’t you think our future partners might have a problem with us having sleepovers?” Louis asks carefully, regretting the question as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

“I think that would be their problem and not ours,” Harry says without an ounce of insecurity. 

Louis watches him for a long second. Harry’s curls are getting longer again, curling behind his ears, his long eyelashes framing his emerald bambi eyes. There’s something about this moment that feels almost too quiet, too vulnerable, but also exactly right for what Louis knows he needs to tell his best friend. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Louis says suddenly, his voice catching a little at the edges. 

Harry blinks. “Okay. Sure, Lou. What’s up?”

Louis breathes in, then out. He’s nervous, and it’s absolutely ridiculous. This is Harry. His best friend of six years. “I think I’m… I dunno. Bisexual? Maybe gay? I don’t know exactly. I just know I like boys.”

Harry doesn’t say anything at first. Just blinks again, slow and calm. And then he smiles at Louis, easing his nerves. He stays quiet though, sensing Louis has more he wants to say. 

"I've been thinking about it for a while," Louis continues, his words tumbling over each other now. "It's not just a maybe. I've known for a bit, and I'm sure. I just haven't said it out loud yet," he swallows. "You're the first person I've told."

Harry doesn’t move away. Doesn’t flinch or pull back. He moves the hand not tucked under his cheek to Louis’ arm as a reassurance.

“Thanks for telling me,” he says, soft and steady. 

“You’re not weirded out?” Louis asks, his heart thudding in his chest.

Harry makes a face like he’s almost disappointed in Louis for asking. “Why would I be?”

Louis shrugs. “I dunno,” he mumbles. “You might see me differently now.”

Harry frowns before sitting up slightly on one elbow. “Lou, I’ve seen you with food poisoning. I’ve seen you cry over ‘Love Actually’. Do you really think this is the thing that’s gonna change how I see you?”

Louis snorts. “You’re a dick.”

Harry lies back down, still looking at him. “That’s okay. You love dicks now, so that just means you love me,” Harry reasons, grinning smugly at him. 

He doesn’t reply, but he feels something uncoil in his chest. The relief is almost dizzying. He doesn’t really care what his other mates say… like whatever? He’s out of here in two years, so if they turn out to be homophobic arseholes, so be it. Harry, though? He can’t do this life without Harry. 

“Does your mum know?” Harry asks gently. 

“No,” Louis says, but then reconsiders. “I mean, maybe? Probably? Mum's intuition and all that. She asked me once if I liked girls, and I said sometimes. She gave me this look, like she already knew, but I haven’t said it properly.”

Harry hums. “Jay’s cool. She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis says. “I just wanted you to know first.”

Harry smiles, and for a second, Louis wonders how a fourteen-year-old can be so emotionally intelligent. Must be Anne's influence.

“Anyway,” Harry says, stretching. “I never understood why it should be a problem, you know? You like boys? Fine. You like girls? Good. You just like people? Awesome. Love is love, Lou, and love is what’s important.”

Louis stares into his eyes, and he doesn’t understand why or how he got so lucky that day Harry started at his school. 

“You’re such a hippie with your ‘love is love’ babble," Louis smiles, warm and grateful and entirely without bite.

“I’m a visionary,” Harry grins, allowing Louis to banter his way out of the vulnerable moment. 

“You’re a nightmare, is what you are,” Louis counters. 

They are both grinning now, curled towards each other in the quiet. The air feels lighter, like something heavy has been lifted. 

“I love you, you know?” Louis says, voice small but sure.

Harry doesn’t hesitate for even a second. “I love you, too.”

There's no fanfare and no dramatic music playing in the background. Just two boys in the dark, sharing a bed, a duvet, a secret, and most importantly, the kind of safety most people spend years trying to find. 

Louis falls asleep with Harry's foot tangled gently around his ankle, and the knowledge that whatever happens next, he'll never have to go through it alone.

Chapter Text

Friday
Louis’ POV

Louis wakes to the kind of peace that leaves him feeling suspicious. There’s light spilling across the wooden floor, and it feels like it’s already warming his body. But… that’s impossible.

He's warm… Very warm. And he's very much being held. 

His brain slowly catches up, and he realises there's a heavy thigh slung over his hip and a strong arm wrapped around his middle. The softest snoring can be heard, and there's someone's gentle breath tickling the back of his neck. 

Harry.

Of course it's Harry.

Louis feels the small smile tug on his lip. Harry’s curly head is pressed into Louis’ shoulder like he’s trying to merge with him.

Louis groans softly, rubbing at his face. “Haz.”

“Mmph,” comes the groggy sound against his shoulder. “Noooo, Lou.”

"You have to wake up," Louis mumbles, torn between feeling delighted and so safe in their friendship and feeling a little antsy at the intimacy of their tangled position. 

Harry tightens his arm around him and noses into the side of Louis' neck. His curls tickle, and Louis breathes in the scent of his coconut shampoo from last night mixed with the ever-present fire pit smoke that's in the air whenever they visit the lake house. It's comforting, like every touch of Harry's is. It's also stupidly intimate, and for some reason, that familiarity between them has started to feel slightly dangerous. 

“You’re comfy,” Harry’s voice drags, thick and sleep-heavy. 

Louis grumbles but doesn't move. He can feel the morning sun warming the room, and the wooden frame of the bed creaks as Harry shifts even closer. 

“You always say that,” Louis mumbles, his own voice raspy with sleepiness. 

“Cause it’s true,” Harry whispers, as he buries his face into the soft slope between Louis’ shoulder and bicep. 

Then, of course, he bites him as he lets out a hum of contentment.

It's a slow and lazy bite, the pressure gentle and just enough to indent the skin. A slight hint of teeth. 

“You been working out?” Harry murmurs against his arm, bringing a hand up to squeeze his bicep. 

Louis exhales a soft laugh, trying not to react inappropriately. "You're obsessed with me."

Harry lifts his head just enough to smile softly at him, his eyes half-closed. “Maybe I am.”

They should be laughing it off. Harry should be saying that he’s joking, like he has done so many times before. Louis should tease him and call him a menace or a freak, just like he has done many times before. Instead, he lets the moment slide. He lets Harry’s weight settle into him again before he stares at the ceiling with a heart that’s suddenly beating just a little faster. Louis hopes Harry doesn’t notice.

❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃

Breakfast is utter chaos.

There are way too many people in the kitchen. Zayn's burning toast while arguing with Bella about the correct way to poach an egg. Lottie is slicing fruit with Lewis hovering right beside her, making them both a cup of coffee, and Harry is singing along to the playlist he put on, wearing tiny red shorts and a grey hoodie. 

Louis makes himself useful by stealing the cup of coffee Lewis just made and otherwise staying out of the way. Seeing Harry in his red shorts leaves Louis feeling a little unsettled. What is wrong with him today?

“Oi, slacker,” Harry grins, walking over to hip-check him. “You could scramble some eggs, you know?”

“I scrambled to survive your cuddles this morning, isn’t that enough?” Louis replies, smiling smugly, but also looking around quickly to check if anyone else overheard. 

Harry just grins wider before he leans in to whisper. “You loved it.”

Louis doesn’t dignify it with a response. 

Eventually, they manage to get enough food made, eating partly in shifts. Some eat at the dining table, others are on the porch, and some have moved outside. Niall steals half of Liam's hash browns. Ed eats peanut butter on toast with a fork for some reason, while Amelia tells Cherry that she's never seen a group of friends this chaotic before 10 am. 

“You should see them in a Tesco,” Lottie laughs heartily. “Lewis and I tag along sometimes because it’s a fun group, but they’re a bunch of rascals in a Tesco. 

Amelia laughs, peeking at her boyfriend. “I bet Niall is the leader of the rascals.”

Lottie and Cherry can’t argue with her on that one. 

❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃

The hike was Harry's idea, which Louis had laughed at until his treacherous friends had started to get on board with the idea. 

They've done it a few times over the years, but it's a strenuous one and the last time they did it, he and some of the boys had agreed that they would not be talked into it again. 

Yet, here they are, laced up in trainers, with water bottles in hand. Harry's got a backpack filled with snacks, and he's leading the adventure, wearing those red shorts, with Louis all the way in the back. It's hot already, and it's the kind of humid summer heat that England is not made to withstand. They've barely started moving, and sweat is already running down the back of Louis' calf. 

The trail is gorgeous, though. The leafy canopy overhead is their saving grace, allowing for some shade along the trail. The occasional cooling breeze doesn't hurt either. 

Louis catches glimpses of Harry up ahead chatting with Ed, Lewis and some of their other friends. He hears the occasional laugh from Harry as it carries on the breeze, and as he looks up he notices Harry is stopped off to the side, one leg up on an old tree stump, re-tying a shoe lace. 

Fuck! 

All of a sudden, Louis' stomach does something weird and dips a little. What in the hell was that, he wonders. He'll need to unpack that later when he has some time to himself.

A short while later Louis ends up in step with Amelia, which seems planned by her. He likes her. She accepts Niall for the chaos gremlin that he is, and Louis suspects she wants to talk to him because he's the group's other designated chaos gremlin.

She asks him about the band Niall was in during their uni years, but before he can answer, Lottie falls back to walk with them. 

“Oh my god,” she says gleefully. “Have you heard about the time Niall tried to serenade a girl with a tambourine? The poor girl was performing in the street when Niall decided he had to woo her.”

“Oh no, not this story again!” Niall groans ahead of them. 

“It broke in two mid-song,” Zayn laughs from ahead, having fallen back just to add to the story. “He nearly cried.”

“I did not cry,” Niall argues, flailing his arms in exasperation. 

“You did Nialler. It may have been on the inside, but you cried,” Louis says, barely hiding his grin. “Your little Irish heart was broken and you made it our problem.”

Amelia snorts at Louis' comment, her whole face beaming with humour as she looks at Niall. She nearly trips over a root, and Louis is quick to grab her arm to keep her upright. Niall pulls her ahead so he can wrap an arm around her waist, and Louis smirks when he hears Niall still trying to convince her that he’s not that much of a disaster. 

Louis didn't notice that Harry had let himself fall back enough to suddenly drape his arm over Louis' shoulder. It feels like it belongs there. 

“You good?” Harry asks, quiet enough for only Louis to hear. 

He nods, slipping his arm around Harry’s waist. “Yeah. You?” 

It’s like muscle memory to both of them, how they hold each other when walking. It used to be Louis with his arm around Harry’s shoulder, but then Harry went and became the taller of the two, so it shifted to how it is now. 

Harry leans in closer for a second. “Perfect now.”

They walk like that for a while, just existing in each other’s space. Something feels different to Louis. Like the air between him and Harry has changed somehow. Louis doesn’t realise he’s smiling until he catches Lottie giving him a suspicious side-eye from across the path. 

By the time they return to the lake house, everyone is sweaty and borderline feral from the heat. Shirts clinging to backs, foreheads are pink from the sun, and no one is pretending to be graceful about it. 

“I’m swimming,” Bella declares, already pulling off her top. “Right fucking now.”

“Seconded,” Zayn groans, and before they know it, everyone begins shedding layers and racing towards the dock. 

Louis would typically be the first one in the water, but he's trailing behind, watching everyone jump in with different levels of grace. He catches Harry's eyes, smiling. He's flushed, and his curls are sticking to his forehead. That wild edge of summer is making him look a little too beautiful for Louis' peace of mind. 

“You coming?” Harry asks.

Louis nods and pulls off his shirt, tossing it on the pile. He doesn’t miss the way Harry glances down, then away. He also tries to ignore the way it makes his stomach flutter. 

What the fuck is happening?

They hit the water at the same time, Louis with a running cannonball and Harry with a smooth dive, and come up laughing and spluttering. They’ve barely breached the surface when they’re being splashed from all sides. 

The swim turns into a full-on game of chicken-fights and underwater wrestling until Niall claims a cramp and Liam offers to rescue him in a dramatic lifeguard rescue. 

Louis floats for a while, enjoying the cooling water after their trek, thankful for the respite. He hears Harry's laugh from afar, and he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. 

They climb back onto the dock when they start to get cold. Louis catches Harry looking at him again. A glance too long with a flash of something unspoken. 

Louis doesn't say anything because he's afraid he's going mad and it's all in his head.

But he feels it.

Evening rolls in with golden light and the smell of barbequed vegetables and after-sun lotion. It's the weirdest mix of smells, but it somehow fits this place perfectly. After dinner, cold beers, and Amelia declaring that yes, she hopes to be marrying into this mess of a group eventually, they gather around the fire pit again. 

Tonight, Ed and Harry have their guitars in hand. The fire crackles and pops, and the stars begin to appear, making it already feel like the perfect night to Louis. 

They take turns playing, Ed leading with a gentle cover of “Landslide”. Some join in for the chorus, and it’s such a lovely way to spend time together, sitting around a fire pit, singing. Harry follows it up with an exaggerated rendition of “Teenage Dirtbag,” that has himself laughing the whole way through it. 

Lottie leans in closer to Louis towards the end of the song and tells him her cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

“Same,” he admits, grinning, not even trying to avoid the fondness from creeping onto his features. 

Harry shifts to a slower song. It's one that Louis doesn't recognise at first. It's soft and dreamy. His voice is low, almost private, like he's partly singing it just for himself.  

Louis watches his fingers, his mouth, and the way his shoulders roll forward slightly when he sings a line that means something, like that roll of his shoulders is meant to convey his deepest feelings. 

He’s mesmerising to watch, and Louis can't look away. 

When he finishes, it's completely quiet for a few seconds before they all erupt in applause, a few high whistles joining the mix, too. When Ed starts playing a song he wrote himself, a gorgeous ballad called “Photograph,” Harry sets his guitar down and walks over, flopping down next to Louis, the need to be close to each other too strong. 

“You looked cold,” Harry murmurs, draping half the blanket from his chair over Louis’ legs. 

“We can’t all be as warm-blooded as you,” Louis says, nudging him with his left leg.

They sit like that for a while, in the glow of the fire, with Ed playing perfect sing-along songs. A bottle of rosé is passed around the fire pit, and when it's empty, Zayn brings out several new ones that get passed around. Louis snatches one of them to pass just between himself and Harry.

They don't sing along with everyone else. Instead, they just sit and share the kind of silence that only the best of friends can manage without it getting awkward. 

Then, casually, Harry leans in, tilts his head and bites Louis' shoulder again, right at the edge of his hoodie. His breath catches in surprise.

It’s soft. Tender, almost. And Louis knows at least half of the group sees it. He’s looking right at Lottie when it happens. Her look isn’t teasing. It’s like she’s searching Louis’ eyes to gauge his reaction. 

She doesn’t say anything. Actually, no one says anything.

When Louis tears his eyes off Lottie, he sees Zayn watching them with a raised brow and a smirk. Louis takes a sip of the bottle in his hand before giving it to Harry, sending a reprimanding scowl Harry’s way. He just grins sheepishly. 

Later, when the fire’s down to embers and everyone’s getting sleepy, mellow and are cuddled up in blankets, Harry rests his head on top of Louis’.

“Tired?” he enquires.

Louis nods. “And tipsy.”

“Same,” Harry mumbles, putting his hand on Louis’ waist to pull him closer. 

“Happy?” Louis asks, definitely feeling happy right this moment. 

Harry smiles. Louis can’t see it, but he knows it. “Yeah. You?”

“Yes,” Louis says, sure of it. “I feel very happy right now,” he mumbles, putting extra care into the last two words. 

Some of the others have already wandered inside. Lottie kissed his cheek goodnight when she and Lewis went to bed twenty minutes ago. Niall is still outside singing "Wonderwall" for the third time just to piss Zayn off. It's Liam's doing that Zayn doesn't immediately chase Niall around the property. His hand playing with the hair at the nape of Zayn's neck keeping him calm and still. 

"Wanna go to bed?" Harry asks, blinking down at him. 

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, reckon we should.”

They walk slowly, bidding the people they meet on their way goodnight. Bella and Ed are watching an episode of Friends, and Cherry and Jess are playing a game of table tennis. The house is a mess with cups scattered everywhere and the dishes from dinner still filling the kitchen counter. There are wine bottles and various alcoholic beverages all over the dining table, but the atmosphere is just right. The relaxed and comfortable essence of the lake house shines through. 

Outside their shared room, they pause. 

“You look really cute when you laugh,” Harry says suddenly. 

Louis turns to face him. “You’re drunk.”

Harry grins but doesn't blush, like he usually would if something like this slipped from his lips. "Little bit," he admits. 

"You gonna bite me again?" Louis asks, opening the door and going into their room. And not for the first time, if he's being honest with himself, he does kind of wish that Harry would bite him again. 

Harry follows him in, closing the door behind them. The room is purely lit by the moon's almost silver light, casting them in a, dare Louis think it, romantic light. 

“You want me to?” Harry asks, leaning closer.

Louis swallows, his heart thudding in his chest. “Not when I’m unarmed.”

Harry chuckles and steps away from him, shedding his hoodie, t-shirt and shorts before crawling into bed. “Goodnight, Lou.”

Louis follows his lead and strips down before crawling under the shared duvet. The room is warm and full of old memories and new ones waiting to happen. "Night, Haz," he mumbles. 

It isn't long before he can hear Harry's breathing getting deeper, little snores escaping him. It has always been one of Louis' favourite sounds. To him, it represents that Harry feels safe with him. 

Louis doesn’t know what’s happening, but contrary to what Lottie believes, he’s not actually stupid. He knows something is changing, he's just scared as fuck. 

He and Harry work like this, as best friends. He doesn't have the balls to cross that line with him, even if what could be waiting for them on the other side could be something even better.

Chapter Text

Flashback: Uni and Whoopsies
Louis, age 20 & Harry, age 18

Louis’ POV

Louis is at the gates ten minutes earlier than he needs to be. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his light-washed denim jacket. It's a typical British summer, hot and humid as fuck one day and pissing down the next. Today it's unusually windy for mid-September, making it feel crisp. 

He's waiting impatiently for Harry. He hasn't seen him much since Christmas. Louis had to stay on campus for the summer. He got an internship through one of his professors and only made it home for one full week and two weekends during the summer. The Styles family had been away on vacation for the whole week, and both weekends either side had seen Harry away visiting with his father and his friends, respectively. 

They've spoken on the phone several times a week, and they text daily, but it's not the same at all, and Louis cannot wait to be around Harry daily again. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s the Styles/Tomlinson family group chat, affectionately named “Mum Crew & Strays” by Anne and his mum. 

Jay: You boys behave.
Anne: As if.
Gemma: One of you text when Harry is settled, please. So sorry I couldn't make it to help you out, little brother.
Lottie: Betting pool on how long 'til Harry bites Louis.
Fizz: My money's on 20 minutes.
Gemma: Sorry, H. 15 minutes.
Jay: Be nice to Harry, Lottie. It's their thing. Leave them alone.
Anne: What the other mum said. (1 hour, ssshhhh)

Louis laughs. Trust Anne to join in on their sister’s shenanigans. 

Louis: What's your answer then, Lotts? I trust Harry to at least wait until he's settled in. I'll say a full 24 hours.
Lottie: Are you for real, Lou? There's no way. I'll be kind, Haz. I'll go with 3½ hours.
Harry: Really, mum?
Harry: I’m pulling up. See you in a minute, Lou. 

Louis shoves his phone back in his pocket and looks around at the arriving taxis. He spots Harry immediately when he unfolds from the back seat in one long, ridiculous piece. For a second, Louis forgets how to move. Harry's hair looks even longer now, curls cascading below his shoulders. It's pushed back by a pair of sunglasses perched in said curls. He's wearing a cream button-down, only buttoned halfway, tucked into some brownish-taupe trousers. His nails are painted a dark green that looks expensive, even though Louis knows Harry did them on the train with a kit Lottie had bullied him into taking. He knows because Harry sent him a picture of himself painting them. 

He looks different. He seems settled and full of confidence. He's not showy, just sure.

“Hi,” Harry says, and the grin hits Louis with brute force.

Fuck it. He has missed his Harry. Louis doesn't bother answering. Instead, he barrels forward and lifts him in a hug that knocks them both into the door of the taxi. Harry laughs into his shoulder as he wraps his arm tight around Louis' back. Louis notices how he feels warm and solid. Harry was always soft but he feels more solid now. Louis honestly doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. 

Even if they've talked and sent each other stupid snaps daily, it's not the same as being around each other, and this is the longest stretch they've gone without seeing each other. When did Harry change so much? Or did he even change? Is it just Louis' mind keeping Harry the way he was two years ago?

“Missed you,” Harry says, words pressed against Louis’ jacket.

"Missed you more," Louis replies, because he did, and he's a little petty. He definitely missed Harry more than Harry missed him. 

They pull apart, and Harry gives him a once-over. "You look stronger, and your arms have definitely grown. When did you get fit?"

Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t start.” Not when Harry’s the one looking fit all of a sudden. 

Harry nudges his bicep with two fingers anyway. His eyes are bright with mischief that’s familiar enough to make Louis’ chest ache. 

They haul cases towards the student housing. Harry insists on carrying the heavier one, and Louis lets him, because picking a stupid fight on the pavement isn't the reunion he wants. People look at Harry as they pass, and Louis clocks every glance. This is new. This didn't usually happen at home. 

Harry is as oblivious about it as Louis expects him to be. He isn't trying to be anything special. He's not trying to be anything for anyone. He is just Harry — now with a new confidence and looking comfortable in his own skin. 

Louis tells himself the warmth in his chest is pride. It mostly is. The other part, he's doing his best to ignore. 

“Liam is meeting us at yours,” Louis says. “Zayn too, if he can be arsed.”

"They're the ones you told me about, right? Your new best friends?" he asks, dodging a first-year dragging a suitcase. He looks back at Louis with a teasing glint in his eyes. 

"You can never be replaced, Haz," Louis says, feeling a need to say it even if he knows Harry doesn't truly believe it. "And yes, Liam is the organised one. Zayn is his boyfriend, and he pretends to be mean before he feeds you and makes sure you nap."

“Sounds like a copy of you,” Harry laughs, toeing Louis’ ankle.

Louis walks in after Harry. It's a decent room for a first year. Second floor, decent light, tiny wardrobe and a view of one of the courtyards. The wardrobe size is going to be a problem for him, Louis reasons. 

Someone's left a pamphlet about safe sex on the desk. Louis flips it open, scans its contents and huffs. "Shame there's nothing about biting," he deadpans.

Harry barks out a laugh before he catches Louis’ eyes. There’s a flush on Harry’s cheeks that’s not from walking up two flights of stairs. 

“Help me put my posters up, yes? Make yourself useful, Lou,” he says, to change the subject. 

Harry pulls out a rolled print of Fleetwood Mac, hands it to Louis, and points to where he wants it. Then he pulls out a photo of him and Gemma and sticks it to the wall over his desk, along with one of both their families from last Christmas at the lake house. Louis can't help but smile at the memories from those chaotic days that will last a lifetime. There are also two postcards Louis had sent him last year, one from London when he went there with Lottie and one of a terrible painting of a frog he'd sent Harry as a joke. If he remembers correctly, all it said was "miss you terribly." Harry slots the postcards into the mirror's frame by his wardrobe without commenting on them. It lands heavy in Louis' stomach in a way he wasn't prepared for. 

Louis finds a picture of the two of them, and without really thinking about it too much, he sticks it on the wall next to Harry's pillow. All Louis knows is that he has a photo of the two of them next to his own pillow, and he finds comfort in it being the last thing he sees before falling asleep and the first thing he sees when he wakes. 

Footsteps thunder in the corridor, and before Louis has time to warn Harry, there's a knock on the door. Then the door swings open without waiting for a reply. That's just how Liam works. Louis is smiling while Harry looks a little stunned. 

“Oi oi,” Liam says, already grinning. “Is the boy wonder here or what?”

Louis groans, and Harry chuckles as he steps forward. He's beaming as he reaches his hand out. "I'm Harry."

“Liam,” Liam says, shaking Harry’s hand before pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

Zayn lingers in the doorway, black denim jacket, rings, and eyes that do a full scan of Harry's outfit before nodding. “Zayn. You look expensive.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, delighted at the compliment. 

They talk about fresher events, where to get the best coffee, the kitchen on the 3rd floor that hosts poker nights and which dining halls have the best food. Louis watches in awe as Harry slides into their friend group like he was meant to be there all along. Harry is a master at reading a room, and he knows how to make people feel seen. His attention to detail becomes obvious when he comments on the brand of one of Zayn's rings, and they roll into a conversation about their different jewellery and what pieces Harry has been looking at. 

Liam looks between his boyfriend and Harry and smirks at Louis. “Oh, he’s good,” he grins, and Louis has to nod affirmatively, because he is. “I’ve never seen anyone win him over so fast— except for me.”

Louis chuckles, looking at the scene in front of them, shaking his head. He shouldn’t be surprised. 

Before they head down for the last of Harry's bags, they show him the decent laundry room on his floor. They tried them all last year, and this one is the nicest and probably the only mould-free one. On the stairwell, they meet a group of girls who look at Harry with hunger in their eyes. 

“Welcome to campus, handsome,” one of them is brave enough to say. 

Harry smiles politely and says thanks, and Louis groans deeply. “Can’t take you anywhere apparently,” he grunts. 

After gathering the last of Harry's stuff from the curb, they make their way back to Harry's room. Zayn perches on the window ledge. "We're doing pre-drinks at ours tonight before going to the house party on Tate. You in?"

Harry looks at Louis like he always does. Louis smiles because Harry always checks with him. "We're in," Louis answers for both of them. 

"Course we are," Harry says, already half-bouncing from excitement. 

Then, without warning and right in front of Zayn and Liam, Harry sinks his teeth into Louis’ shoulder through the fabric of his jacket. It’s not a hard bite. It’s firm and familiar.   Louis knows it’s usually a way for Harry to ground himself, when he needs to feel calmer, but he still jolts from the unexpected surprise. "Jesus Christ…" he mutters. 

Liam looks at them wide-eyed, and Zayn just stares, looking like he doesn't quite believe he just saw that happen. 

“Do we want to know?” Liam asks. 

Harry smiles his dimpled smile, calm as a summer lake. "Sorry. Missed my bite quota."

“It’s a thing,” Louis adds, shrugging as a way of downplaying it. 

Harry steps closer and rests his chin on Louis’ shoulder, explaining it further without being asked. “Been doing it since primary school. I do it when I’m happy or when he’s being annoying. Sometimes when I need him to listen.”

“And when you’re bored or just want my attention,” Louis adds. 

"Or when I want your attention," Harry agrees with a quiet chuckle. He lifts a shoulder in a shrug of his own. "It's affectionate, not weird."

Liam grins. “It’s weird, but I respect it.”

Harry smiles gratefully as Zayn suddenly points at Louis. "Blink twice if you're in danger."

Louis tries not to smile but fails miserably. “I’m very safe.”

“Had to ask,” Zayn reasons before flashing a curious smile Harry’s way. 

❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃

Later, Louis and Harry meet up to give Harry a tour of the grounds. Harry gets clocked by female students at least three more times on the way to the best coffee shop. 

"You grew into your face, huh? People are mesmerised," Louis comments, trying to sound as normal as possible. 

“Are you?” Harry asks, grinning at him. 

“Shut up,” Louis says, bumping his shoulder to Harry’s. 

"You grew into your arms," Harry smirks.

“Shut. Up!” Louis laughs, actually putting some weight into the shoulder bump this time, making Harry stumble before regaining his balance. 

"You started it," Harry reasons, and Louis can't argue with that. 

As they come out of the coffee shop and look for a place to sit and enjoy their drinks, Louis points out the vending machine by the science building that he should steer clear of since it eats coins. He tells Harry that the bathrooms on the top floor of the library are the best and worth the extra stairs to reach. Harry stores all of it, his eyes bright, and he asks plenty of questions that Louis happily answers. 

They stop and sit on a bench under a tree that drops leaves with dramatic timing, making sure they understand that autumn is on its way. 

Harry peels the lid off his iced coffee before flicking the straw wrapper onto Louis's lap, and clearing his throat. "I should tell you something." 

“Sure,” Louis says calmly as he can tell it’s important to Harry by the way he swallows noticeably. 

“I’m pan,” Harry says, his face calm, but Louis catches the way he picks at his cuticle on his right thumb. 

“What, as in Peter?” Louis asks, a cheeky grin appearing as he waits for Harry to catch on. 

“What? No you idiot!” Harry laughs, giving Louis a gentle slap on the arm. “Pansexual”

“Oh, alright,” Louis says, still smiling, relieved it’s nothing bad.

Harry searches his face. “That’s it?”

Louis is confused. “What did you want? Balloons? A marching band? I’m proud of you. Always was. You said love is love when you were fourteen, and I came out to you. This is just you being you. I'm glad you've found a word that feels accurate."

“Gemma cried when I told her,” Harry says, almost like he expected Louis to cry, too. 

“Gemma once cried at that TV ad for car insurance,” Louis deadpans. 

Harry huffs a laugh and then leans his head on Louis’ shoulder. “Thanks, Lou.”

Louis tips his cheek to Harry’s hair. “Anytime.”

Before they move from the bench, Louis pulls his phone out and sends a quick message to the group chat. 

Louis: Anne, you're the winner. Your guess of 1 hour was the closest. 

Harry reacts to the ping from his own phone and laughs out loud when he sees the notification. 

❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃

Louis and Harry skipped the offer of pizza at Liam and Zayn's, instead choosing to spend their time having dinner in the campus dining hall. After their meal they went back to their rooms to change clothes before heading over for pre-drinks. 

Liam and Zayn were blessed with one of the larger dorm rooms on campus which contained an actual bedroom and separate living room. Despite the extra space making it easier to host larger groups, it's a bit crowded when they arrive around nine. The sweet scent of the berry vape that Liam swears he quits every Monday invades Louis' nostrils as he comes over to greet them. 

Harry's in a soft jumper and trousers that fit indecently well, and Louis sees how many of the guests' eyes linger on the new boy. Zayn stumbles over, handing both of them their first drink of the night. A beer for Louis and something Zayn swears tastes like a piña colada for Harry. 

Harry quickly becomes the life of the party, saying hello to everyone and stealing a party hat from a girl, only to put it on Zayn's head. He somehow gets away with it before he's dancing with Liam on their tiny dance floor. Louis can't keep his eyes off him, telling himself that he's just looking out for him. 

“Protective much,” Zayn teases in Louis’ ear when he walks up next to him. 

“Shut it,” Louis grumbles, not daring to look away from Harry yet. 

Zayn’s mouth curves. “He’s lovely.”

“I know,” Louis agrees, his tone even, not giving anything away. 

“Does he know he’s lovely?” Zayn inquires, trying to understand Harry better.

“Harry doesn’t do false modesty,” Louis says, but this time it comes out fondly.

“I like him,” Zayn decides. “I think you do, too,” he adds. Louis gives him a side eye, but stays quiet. 

Liam flicks the playlist to ABBA, and already-drunk harmonies erupt. Harry finds Louis' shoulder and leans in to shout over the chorus. "House party soon?"

Louis gives Zayn a nod as a sign that they should leave soon. He receives a nod in reply from Zayn. “Yeah, Haz,” Louis says softly. 

“Will you dance with me there?” Harry asks, hopeful. 

Louis hates dancing with a passion, but he will always give Harry a dance when he asks for it. “Obviously.”

Before long, they're spilling into the street, jackets half on, hands full of cans. The house on Tate is already heaving when they arrive. Music thuds out through the windows, fairy lights are trying to soften the edges of the house, but they're hung sloppily, so they don't fully succeed. 

Louis knows this world, and the people to avoid, so he steers Harry through the house with a guiding hand resting on his lower back. He pauses to introduce Harry to people he knows, and they end up in the kitchen. There's a table in the corner with sticky ring marks and a broken chair that everyone warns everyone else not to sit on. Someone thrusts a shot of something lethal into Louis' hand and then into Harry's, and they toast to being together again. Zayn and Liam squabble because Liam catches Zayn trying to swap his shot for water. They make up in under a minute because that's what they do. 

Harry drifts into a circle of people and tells a story about a school play gone wrong. Lines forgotten, set half collapsing, and how he improvised an entire monologue about friendship that made the headmaster wipe at his eyes. It's a true story, too. Louis remembers it all too well, and how it left him almost rolling with laughter on the side stage, Harry trying his hardest to not look at him. 

The whole room tilts toward him. It always does. Louis watches, amused and proud. A girl in a band tee touches Harry's arm. A boy with a nose ring leans in too close to hear him better. Harry doesn't flirt back on purpose. He just exists, and people tilt toward him like sunflowers to the sun. 

Louis needs air, so he slips out to the back garden. Fairy lights hang between two posts, trying to be romantic, but instead hang in a tangled mess of lights and extension cords. 

Harry finds him in the crowd and steps in close, wordless. His palm finds the back of Louis' neck. It's almost possessive, and Louis instinctively leans into it without meaning to. 

“You alright?” Harry says near his ear. 

“Yeah. Just needed some air,” Louis says. “You?”

“Yup.” Harry’s thumb skims a line at Louis’ hairline. “Missed this.”

“Same,” Louis sighs.

They stand there watching other people laugh. Someone drops a drink and swears creatively, making them both chuckle. Liam argues with a stranger about the ethics of pineapple on pizza, while Zayn and a guy in a denim vest re-tie the fairy lights so they stop drooping. Louis has the oddest sensation that they're on the verge of something, but he's nowhere near ready to name it. 

Harry suddenly pulls at his wrist, and Louis follows him back inside. Of course he does. He always goes where Harry leads him.

This time it's to the dance floor, the music is something bass-heavy, and they dance that messy uni dancing where you mouth along to the lyrics and throw your arms up when a chorus hits. Harry spins Louis around, and then he drags him into the middle until he cracks and laughs, head tipped back. He's flying high on tipsiness when he pulls Louis in front of him and places his hands on Louis' shoulders before dancing suggestively. 

The room blurs at the edges, and heat gathers under Louis' skin. He turns to say something, and Harry is there, his mouth close, breath warm and eyes dialled in. It's nothing. It has always been nothing. They’ve always danced together, hugged forever, slept in the same bed for eight years. But this is different-

“You’re flushed,” Harry says, stupidly tender.

“And you’re tipsy,” Louis counters.

“So are you,” Harry states.

“Your point?” Louis asks, unsure if he wants to know the answer.

Harry's smile is small and unnerving. He reaches out and takes Louis’ hand, "Come with me."

They find a path through the bodies until they arrive in the back garden once again. Harry looks around quickly before pulling Louis after him around the side of the house. The only light source is from a window a few metres to their right, voices humming out through the half-open window. 

They stand there a second, both laughing for no reason. Relief and nerves, and that bubble that happens when it's just them. 

"I've really missed you," Harry says, serious again. 

Louis nods because he can’t lie. “Missed you too.”

Then the space between them disappears. One second, Louis is sucking in a breath, and the next, Harry's mouth is on his. 

It's soft at first. Surprise and soft sighs and the instant click of familiarity, even if they've never done this before. Then Harry makes a sound into Louis' mouth and Louis moves his hand to grab Harry's hair and the softness is suddenly gone. It tips to greedy. Harry's thumb is at the corner of Louis' jaw, steadying him. Then he licks into Louis' mouth, and Louis feels sparks all the way up his spine. He grabs Harry's waist and pulls him closer because distance is an insult at this point. 

Harry laughs, sounding wrecked, and then he pushes Louis back against the wall rather hard. A puff of air leaves Louis, but he doesn't care. Mouths slide, hands clutch, and teeth scrape. It's messy in a way that makes it feel safer, because if it's messy, it's the party's fault, not theirs. Harry gets his fingers under Louis' t-shirt, and the cold of his rings feels magnificent on Louis' overheated skin. Louis shudders, and Harry chases it messily.

There's groping. Louis' palm over the curve of Harry's arse. Harry's hand firm at Louis' hip, the other by his head. Harry kisses like he laughs, full-bodied, generous and all-in. He bites Louis' bottom lip, then kisses down his neck before placing another bite to the slope of his shoulder. It's gentle and sure, and Louis' knees go stupidly soft. He hears himself say Harry's name, and it doesn't sound at all casual. 

Harry pulls back just enough to breathe and looks at Louis like he’s trying to burn the moment into his memories. “Hi.”

Louis should say something. Say Hi back? Suggest that they stop? Maybe a joke? He doesn't. Instead, he drags Harry back in, their lips locking once more, tongues eagerly exploring and tangling together. 

Another couple stumbles around to their side of the house. They quickly apologise and go back around to the garden, but it nudges them apart a fraction, just enough for the spell to break. Harry's chest rises and falls against Louis' chest. They stare, both ruined and lusting after the other. A hundred different sentences jostle at the tip of Louis' tongue. 

Harry swallows. “We’re drunk.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, grateful for the lifeline he was already reaching for. “We’re drunk.”

Harry nods too many times in a row. It looks almost comical. “We should…”

“... go back inside. Yeah,” Louis finishes for him, and they both pretend it’s the same sentence.

It doesn't even register to them to fix their hair. Back in the thick of it, Liam clocks them and lifts a brow. Zayn's eyes sharpen, then soften. Nobody says it. Thank god nobody says it.

They dance again, but further apart. Louis lets Zayn drape an arm around his shoulder, grateful for the anchor. He smiles a lot, trying to play the part of a boy who hasn't just had his best friend's mouth on him in a quiet corner of the garden while the rest of the world ceased to matter.

At some point, Harry leans in. "You good?" he asks.

“Yeah,” Louis lies, and it’s an easy lie. He’s good. He’s also on fire. So there’s that at least. 

They end the night at the kebab shop with Liam and Zayn. They have kebabs and chips with too much salt. Afterwards, they pile into a taxi, too tired to walk home. Liam and Zayn get out first, hugging both of them. Louis avoids eye contact with them because there's no way they're talking about this. Ever.

They were in the same building as Louis last year, but they've moved on to better and more spacious accommodations. At least Harry's in his building now. 

When it's just the two of them, Harry leans his head on Louis' shoulder for the last two blocks. Louis lets him and pretends his pulse isn't in his throat. 

They take the stairs and stop when they reach the landing for the second floor. They stand there awkwardly for a second too long before they tilt into each other for a hug that lasts too long and not long enough. 

Harry kisses Louis' cheek. "Night."

Louis breathes in, breathes out, and presses his mouth to Harry’s hair. “Night, Haz.”

Louis takes the stairs another two flights up, his hands in his pockets. He hears the door slam after Harry exits the stairwell, and he sinks down on the steps. His head is loud. His mouth still tastes of Harry and beer. There isn't a language for this that doesn't start with consequences. 

❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃

The morning is unkind. His phone lights up with a text from Harry before his alarm even sounds. 

Harry: Coffee?
Harry: Also, according to my new roomie, I snore. Did I always snore?

Louis appreciates the effort Harry’s putting in, making it seem like any other morning. It’s not. And they will have to face this. So, left with no other option, he shoots Harry a quick reply.

Louis: Yes. On both counts

Louis meets him outside, and they walk to the café that does that one decent pastry. It’s further from their student housing, but it's usually worth the extra five minute walk. Today it doesn't feel like it. They talk about their surroundings with Louis still educating Harry on the do's and don'ts on the campus grounds. Harry looks unfairly fresh to the untrained eye in his soft jumper and his hair tied back messily. It's his tired eyes that give him away, though. To Louis, it's noticeable. 

At the café, they sit after placing their orders. Two coffees. Two pastries. Two idiots.

Harry clears his throat. “About last night…”

Louis swallows nervously. “Yeah…”

Harry sets his to-go cup down carefully. “We were drunk.”

Louis nods, looking into Harry’s eyes. “Yeah, we were.”

Harry’s relief is visible. “I mean, it was g—”

“F…fine,” Louis offers, because anything truer will rearrange them. “We missed each other. We were happy. We’re us.”

Harry nods and then, softer, "Did I hurt you when I pushed you against the wall?"

Louis laughs, but of course Harry would be worried about that. “No. You never hurt me,” Louis replies with a gentle smile. 

Harry holds his eyes a beat longer than necessary. “Good.”

They drink their coffee and each eat their Danish. Harry continues to ask questions about where to eat and which grocery store is the cheapest. Louis is happy to keep the conversation to mundane things like this because it feels safe. Harry mentions the family chat and they stop to take a selfie together. It turns out pretty fun with both of them flipping off the camera. It's not long before the replies come in one after the other.

Anne: My boys ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Lottie: And the world is aligned again with you two in the same place.
Gemma: Stop being such a bad influence on my brother, Louis.
Fizz: Cute. And yes, I realise that's out of character for me, but I stand by it.
Jay: I'm teary-eyed. I love you, boys.

Louis pretends the replies don't hit him where he’s most defenceless right now.

On the way out, a girl from the party last night waves at Harry. He smiles and waves back, like he's been going to the university for two years, like Louis, instead of one freaking day. 

They spend the afternoon setting up the rest of Harry's room. Louis meets Harry's roommate, and he's a nice enough lad. He's Irish and good fun. He helps them hang fairy lights on Harry's side of the room before running out to buy some for his own side. He leaves them when he declares he has to go to the bookstore to pick up books for his classes. He seems kind, and it settles something in Louis that the Irish lad seems fond of Harry already, asking him if they should have dinner tonight to get to know each other better. 

Harry bought a plant that will probably die during winter, but Louis dares not tease him about it just yet. They bicker over where to put a chair that won't fit anywhere and end up shoving it by the window anyway. They eat crisps right out of the bag and argue about music. They fall back into being themselves the way you fall back onto your own bed after being away from it for a while.

At the door, when Louis finally leaves to catch up with his study group, Harry hooks a finger in the back loop of his jeans and pulls him half a step back. He’s smiling when Louis turns around to see what he wants. 

“We’re good, yeah?” Harry asks. 

“We’re us,” Louis says, and means it with his whole body.

Harry nods, satisfied. “Alright.”

Louis steps into the corridor. Harry catches his sleeve softly. “Oi.”

Louis turns his head with raised eyebrows. Harry leans in and presses his teeth to Louis' shoulder. A gentle, careful bite through cotton. A promise that's always meant safety. He doesn't linger.

Louis exhales. “Gremlin.”

Harry grins. “Yours.”

Louis walks away, and he pretends that the final 'yours' out of Harry's mouth today doesn't hurt.

Chapter Text

Saturday
Louis’ POV

Louis wakes with a groan. His head is only faintly pounding, not the sort of full-blown hangover that would make him swear off alcohol forever… again. It’s more like a dull reminder that rosé and beer don’t mix well, especially when you also have sips from whatever bottle is being passed around a fire pit gathering. 

The first thing he notices though, isn't the hangover. 

It's that he's alone.

Louis blinks, pushes himself up on one elbow and squints at the empty space beside him. The duvet on Harry's side is thrown back, his pillow dented, but curls nowhere to be seen. Which is wrong. According to Louis' phone, it's seven-thirty in the morning. The whole point of being tipsy and staying up too late is that you get to sleep in… preferably in a comfortable pile with Harry's limbs tangled with his own. 

Instead, he is blinking at the sunlight cutting through the curtains with half-lidded eyes and feeling distinctly un-tangled. Damnit.

“Traitor,” he mutters at the empty space, shoving himself up to a sitting position. 

His whole body aches and complains, his joints are stiff and his muscles sore from hiking and swimming the day before, and from sleeping on a not-quite-as-soft-as-home mattress. He pads across the floor barefoot, tugging on his shorts and getting tangled in Harry's hoodie from yesterday as he attempts to get it over his head, and muttering about people who can't commit to a sleep-in. 

The house is quiet, but honestly, it fucking should be when it’s full of more or less, a dozen hungover 20-somethings. He reasons that Harry probably went out to the dock to enjoy the quiet morning of the lake, but then he hears a faint clink from downstairs and follows it. He’s careful not to trip on the trainers scattered on the hallway floor outside the bedrooms. 

Halfway down the stairs, he hears voices. 

“... not sure you can really blame it all on distance, mate,” Niall says, his tone firm but full of tenderness for Harry, he presumes.

Louis keeps still, and quiet, just out of sight. 

Harry’s voice comes, a low rumble and a bit defensive. “It wasn’t just distance, Niall. We wanted different things.” 

"You wanted different things, or he wanted different things?" Niall presses.

The pause is long enough for Louis to picture Harry chewing on his lip the way he does when he doesn’t want to admit something. Louis holds his breath, not sure why he doesn’t walk in.

“He didn’t like how close I am with Lou,” Harry admits finally, his voice quieter now. “He thought it was… weird. That no one should be biting their best mate’s shoulder in front of their boyfriend.”

Louis’ stomach flips. He had suspected that his and Harry’s friendship had something to do with their break-up, just like it was the cause of Louis’ most recent failed relationship. But hearing the words from Harry’s mouth still affects him. 

“You don’t say,” Niall mutters with all the dry sarcasm of someone who’s been waiting to make this exact point. 

Harry huffs out a sort of laugh that doesn't sound amused at all. "It's not like that. It's just me and Lou, you know? We've always been like that. You know we have, and you've seen it for the last seven years," he states. "And anyway, Louis doesn't mind," he adds, sounding a little less sure.

Niall doesn’t let him off that easily. “Mate, you bite him. In public. You can’t be surprised that people raise eyebrows. It’s not a normal thing to do between mates.”

Louis' pulse picks up. He wants to protest and step in to defend it as their thing, but he's stuck. His throat feels tight, and his legs won't move. Also, he's somewhat interested in hearing Harry's reply.

"Well, maybe we're not normal," Harry says, a stubborn edge under the usual softness. Louis nearly chuckles because there's nothing normal about their friendship, no matter how you look at it. "Lou's been my best friend since I was eight. That's more than fifteen years he's been one of the most important people in my life. He knows what I mean when I bite him, and he never makes it weird."

A chair creaks. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it, though,” Niall says softly. 

Louis’ chest goes hot and prickly. He can’t tell if it’s panic or something else entirely. Niall’s words seem to have peeled open a part of him Louis hasn’t even fully admitted to himself. It feels far too exposing. 

Silence stretches in the room, and Louis has to press a palm flat against the wall to ground himself as he waits for Harry to answer. The faint gurgle of the water boiling in the kettle is the only thing breaking the silence. 

When Harry finally answers, it’s softer. “Look, Lou’s the one person who’s never left. The one person who knows me better than anyone else. He’s my person. I don’t want to give that up just to make someone else comfortable.”

The words lodge themselves in Louis' chest. He has to blink a few times and shake himself out of it before he clings to Harry's words and never lets them go again. 

“Listen to yourself, Harry…” Niall says, almost sounding exasperated. “... your person?” he mutters. 

No. Nope. This conversation can’t continue. Louis wants to hear Harry’s reply, but he also doesn't want to. The air feels way too heavy for seven-thirty in the morning. 

Louis clears his throat deliberately, then descends the last few steps and walks into the kitchen before he can overthink it. "Morning, boys."

Harry’s head snaps up, looking startled, his curls a little wild. Niall looks faintly guilty, and Louis would like to rip into him for making Harry question everything, but he can’t do that without giving himself away. 

"Lou!" Harry says, a little too cheerfully. "Can I make you a cup of tea?"

"Always," Louis says smoothly, doing his best to pretend he didn't just overhear half a conversation he wasn't meant to. He surveys the disaster that is the kitchen and living room. There are cups scattered everywhere, empty crisp packets, sticky wine glasses and loads of beer bottles. "This place looks like the apocalypse hit."

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone called us an apocalypse,” Niall grins, standing up and stretching. “I’ll start collecting bottles before we have to make a trip to the A&E.”

Louis joins him, grabbing an armful of plastic cups to throw out and a stack of plates to put in the dishwasher. Harry is hunched over the kettle with a single-minded focus. He calls Louis over a few minutes later, smiling his dimpled smile while holding out Louis' cup to him. He smiles fondly at Harry because how can he not? He takes a sip, and it's made perfectly, just as he loves it. Two sugars, a splash of milk and strong enough to keep him upright. 

He takes another sip, just to check, closing his eyes briefly at the simple perfection of this cup of tea. “It’s just right, Haz. You’re the only person who always gets it just right.”

Harry beams at the praise. “Of course I am. I know what you like.”

“You always do,” Louis says softly, almost without thinking. 

Niall shoots them both a look, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. He does roll his eyes at them before walking outside to the recycling bin with an armful of bottles. 

It turns into a proper clean-up mission once Amelia wanders in, wearing Niall's t-shirt and her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head. She looks sleep-deprived, but laughs as she surveys the carnage.

“You lot need supervision,” she declares, rolling up her sleeves and grabbing a sponge. 

“Please,” Louis scoffs, grinning at her. “We’re seasoned professionals.”

“Seasoned professionals don’t leave half-eaten cheese toastie sandwiches under the sofa,” Amelia counters, dragging out a plate with said sandwich to prove her point. 

"That was Niall," Harry says, making a disgusted face at the dried-up sandwich. 

"Oi," Niall yells from across the kitchen, but once he looks up, he grins instead. "Well, shit… that is mine. Mine and Liam's, to be fair. We wanted cheese toasties last night."

Amelia smirks at him. “And it ended up under the sofa… how?”

Niall is typically shameless, but with Amelia, he almost looks guilty. "I'm not actually sure, you know?"

They all chuckle at that, and it isn’t long before Bella and Jess join, too. They’re all armed with cleaning cloths and rubbish bags. Bella brings out a bluetooth speaker and plays some Taylor Swift. Within ten minutes, the kitchen is both much cleaner and significantly louder. 

Louis is elbow-deep in soapy water, belting out the chorus of “You Belong With Me” while Harry harmonises quite badly beside him. The irony of the song they’re singing isn’t lost on Louis, but he tries his hardest to not make it into anything it’s not. 

By the time "Shake It Off" comes on, they're all shouting the lyrics. Niall is using a broom as a microphone, and Bella is drumming on the counter with wooden spoons. The rest of the group has crawled out from their rooms, woken by the impromptu karaoke session. 

Louis catches Harry's grin mid-song. He looks stunning with his dimpled smile and crinkly eyes. He seems happy and so full of light, and something in Louis' chest loosens. 

All he truly wants is for Harry to be happy, and if Harry had been happy with what's-his-name, then fine, you know? Harry's happiness is the most important thing to Louis, always.

But Harry hadn’t been happy. And through all the awkward overheard words this morning, and with all the questions buzzing at the back of his mind, Louis allows himself to drift into the ridiculous joy of everything around him. The mess, the music, the friends that feel like family — but mostly Harry and the way his laugh rings louder than everything else. 

❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃

They didn't have anything planned for Saturday, but Jess had complained that they deserved a holiday activity now that they'd finished the boring housework. Harry suggested a full lake day instead of just a swim, and once he had checked that the paddleboards weren't deflated, he kicked into planning mode and told everyone what they were responsible for bringing down to the dock. 

Before Harry lets people wander off to get ready, he declares that sunscreen is mandatory. "None of you are burning on my watch. You either sunscreen up or I'll be hunting you down with it all day," he says seriously, looking pointedly at Niall and Bella, who historically have had the worst sunburns. He also clocks Louis with a stern look, but he just grins and shrugs. He doesn't burn, so he's not usually bothered enough to use it, but Harry has a different plan for him today. 

An hour later, once they've all been fed and the house looks spotless again, they all change into their swimsuits and gather water and some snacks before walking down to the dock. 

Zayn is leading the way, carrying the Bluetooth speaker and putting on a playlist with cheesy 2010s bangers, to have them reminiscing about their uni years. They dump their towels and bags on the dock, laid out so they can sunbathe if they tire of being in the water. Harry checks that everyone has followed his instructions, and he smiles approvingly as the first few people jump in the water. 

The atmosphere is joyful and the music loud. It’s shaping up to be a perfect day on the lake with their favourite people.

“If I capsize, leave me. I’ve lived a good life,” Niall states dramatically, as he wobbles on the paddleboard, slowly pushing away from the dock. 

“You’d float anyway, mate,” Zayn grins at him. “You’ve got built-in buoyancy from all the Guniness.”

“Ha ha ha, you’re funny,” Niall grins, flipping him off, resulting in him almost losing his balance and falling off the paddleboard before he even got started. 

Louis is sharing a sweet moment with Lottie when he spots Harry trying to rub sunscreen on his own back. He chuckles, and Lottie notices where his attention is suddenly directed. 

“Go help him,” she demands softly. “Go, Lou,” she encourages, smiling knowingly.

Louis doesn't know exactly what's running through her head, but he knows that 48 hours ago, he would have told her she was utterly wrong. Now? Now he doesn't have the heart to deny it. 

So Louis goes. 

“Need help, Haz?” Louis asks, smirking at Harry as he tangles himself in knots, trying to rub sunscreen on his own back.

"I think I kind of do," Harry chuckles. "It won't do, that I'm policing you guys to put sunscreen on, and I don’t. I just can’t reach the middle of my back.”

“I got you,” Louis says, as he rubs the remaining sunscreen on Harry’s broad back. “You’ve got a lot of back to cover, you giant.”

Harry laughs delightedly before turning around, his attention now on Louis. “You haven't done your neck or shoulders, Lou. You’ll fry if you don’t put sunscreen on those areas.”

Louis huffs. “I’m not Ed. I don’t burn.”

“Neck, Lou. No discussion,” Harry reprimands, turning Louis around to face away from him and squirting lotion into his hands.

“I’ve survived 27 summers without you man handling me, Harold” he sighs, as Harry obviously isn’t giving him the choice. 

"Stop complaining, you child. No excuses, Tomlinson," Harry says, as he diligently makes sure that every inch of Louis' neck and shoulders is protected from the sun. 

Louis is quiet as Harry rubs his neck. “You’re too good at this,” he mutters. 

Harry shrugs. “I just like to take care of you.” 

As Harry finishes smoothing the lotion on Louis' shoulders, he dips his head and gives a barely there nip at the curve of Louis' shoulder. Louis yelps, but it comes out more as a laugh than a protest. 

“Christ, get a room,” Niall shouts from his paddleboard. 

Lottie is standing on the dock, getting ready to jump in. She smirks at them. “They’ve got one. They just need to use it better to blow off a little steam rather than whatever this is.”

Harry grins and nearly blushes as Lottie makes a perfect dive into the water. Louis mutters about people staying out of their fucking business. 

"If you weren't already in the water, I'd push you in myself, Horan," Louis hollers. 

“Do I need to supervise the two of you like toddlers?” Amelia asks Louis, looking between him and Niall. 

“Yes!” both Harry and Zayn say, making Amelia laugh. 

“Get your arse in here, Styles,” Zayn says. “Come paddleboarding with me.”

Harry takes him up on his offer, and before long, their group is enjoying the beautiful day on the lake. Most of them are on paddleboards, but Lottie and Lewis are in a kayak, bickering away in that special way only lovers can manage. Looking around from his comfortable seat on the water tube, Louis spots a very animated Cherry and Amelia far away from the rest of the group, casually floating in their kayak and obviously having a gossip session.

Liam swims by and splashes him with water, but he just closes his eyes and ignores him. Louis might be pretending to sleep so everyone leaves him alone, allowing him to be left alone with his intrusive thoughts. 

His mind wanders back to Harry’s nip on his shoulder. He tries to tell himself that it’s just their thing, their own special language. That it’s always been this way. Just like Niall always sings the lyrics to Wonderwall wrong on purpose, or how Zayn can’t pour a drink without telling everyone about ratios. 

Except… there's something about the way Harry does it now that feels different. It's not harder or sharper. If anything, it's… gentler. More deliberate. It doesn't feel like he's doing it to wind Louis up, like it sometimes was in the past. It's more about… claiming a moment, as if Harry's trying to keep the moment saved in his memory vault. 

Louis kind of hates that he notices and how his skin tingles after Harry pulls away, and his stomach swoops. Most of all, it's how his first thought is never 'stop it'. Actually most of all, it's how now, his first thought is ‘again’. 

He shakes it off and tells himself that it’s fine, and that Harry is just a very tactile person. This is what seventeen years of friendship looks like, right?

Louis might actually have dozed off, because the next thing he feels is Harry’s hand on his shoulder, saying his name gently. 

“Come on, Lou. Ed wants to do a group shot while we're all still in the water,” Harry tells him, squeezing his shoulder. 

Louis looks at him, squinting his eyes. “Are you squatting on that paddleboard like it’s nothing?”

Harry’s laugh is joyful. “Not actually that hard,” Harry grins, before paddling over to the rest of the group. Ed has set up a tripod on the dock and has a remote in his hand. Louis is the second to last to make it into the frame, still lazing on the water tube. Niall’s the last to reach the group, but he stays standing, claiming he’s got it under control.

"Right," Ed says, eyeing Niall carefully. "Everyone, be still. This will be fun and different."

“Not sure Niall knows how to be still on that board,” Jess grumbles, looking nervously at Niall beside her.

“Rude,” Niall scoffs, “I can balance like a— AARHH,” he yelps as he falls in. 

“Aaand, that’s the shot,” Zayn laughs as the chaotic shot is taken, the camera being controlled by the remote still in Ed’s hand.

“Frame it and hang it in the loo,” Lottie jokes, laughing at Niall along with everyone else.

This. This is why Harry does it, Louis thinks. These moments will be remembered by all for years to come. A friend group is like any other relationship; if you don't water it and take care of it, it dies. Harry is making sure they water it and give it the attention it deserves. It's especially important for their friendship with Bella and Jess, and Lottie and Lewis, since they all live in London these days. 

Eventually, they all get out of the water, sprawled on towels and letting the sun dry them. Harry passes snacks around, and Liam and Ed are already complaining about being hungry, even though it's only 3 in the afternoon. 

Everyone is chatting with each other and Louis has just finished a lively discussion with Lewis when he goes to lay his head down on his towel again. That's when he catches Harry staring at him. Usually, Harry would look away, but instead, he just smiles at Louis, who, in return, can't help but smile back. It's so soft and a little unusual. Typically, when it gets a little too soft between them, one of them cracks a joke. But not this time apparently.

Harry takes a deep breath in while looking around at their group of friends. “This is the best bit,” he says, smiling at Louis. “Just… being.”

Louis huffs out a laugh. “Trust you to romanticise drying in the sun, looking like a drowned rat,” Louis jokes. 

Harry giggles. “Well, you’re my favourite drowned rat.”’

❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃

Two hours later, they're all back in the house, showered and piled around the kitchen to prep dinner. 

Amelia and Jess have turned salad-making into a competitive chopping contest, Zayn and Liam are in charge of the barbeque and are claiming to have veto rights to seasoning the meat, which Niall and Lewis are objecting to. Lottie, Cherry and Bella are mixing drinks while Ed has set up a chair by the kitchen island and starts strumming his guitar. 

Everyone is bickering and bantering, leaving the house feeling every bit of the chaotic mess that it is. Louis and Harry have teamed up to make the focaccia. 

Louis is kneading the dough, following Harry’s almost whispered instructions as they stand close together. They’re both focused, working in tandem and not noticing the small audience gathering around them. 

“How are they making kneading dough and drizzling olive oil look sexual?” Bella asks, flapping her hands out like she’s giving up. 

Zayn rolls his eyes, smirking at Louis, when he looks up. “Because it’s Louis and Harry. Don’t question it.”

“Shut it,” Louis says, aiming his best death stare at both of them, before he turns his attention back to Harry and their dough. He picks up the rosemary and pinches his fingers on either side of the stem, trailing it between his fingers to remove the sprigs before he haphazardly throws them into the air and lets them fall randomly on the dough.

Harry gasps and looks at him affronted. “You can’t just dump rosemary like that. It’s not confetti!”

Louis laughs before winking at him. “You’re just jealous that my sprinkle technique is sexier than yours.”

"Honestly, Lou," Harry says, looking smug as fuck, "if sprinkling herbs is your idea of foreplay, I've got some bad news for you."

Laughter erupts around them, but Louis is not letting Harry have the last word.

“Oh, but you don’t actually have any clue what my idea of foreplay is now, do you?” Louis teases, winking exaggeratedly. 

Harry stares at him, mouth hanging partly open. Silence spreads, and Louis realises he might have taken this a step too far. He looks at Zayn, a slight panic spreading in his body. 

"Thank fuck none of us do," Zayn says, making it sound like a natural follow-up. Louis is impressed, and grateful. 

“And don’t talk about foreplay in front of me, you tosser,” Lottie screeches, making everyone laugh again. 

Louis sees the challenge in Zayn's eyes, and instead, he looks at his sister, surprised she's also looking at him like he's lost the plot and needs to pull himself together. Well shit, Lottie has read him like an open book. 

A few hours later, everything feels kind of normal again. During dinner, Niall claimed that it was a travesty that he wasn't the barbeque master tonight, as he claimed working the barbeque is in his Irish DNA. Liam countered that his DNA was actually 80% Guinness, before the whole table erupted in ridiculous conversations about what their DNA was composed of. 

The group decided that Zayn is 80% broody and 20% Liam's puppy. Jess is 30% crisps, 40% boss babe and 30% the mom of the group. 

Louis' verdict was 50% chaos gremlin, 25% everyone's protective big brother and 25% Harry's. Just Harry's. It had made both of them blush a little.

Harry, on the other hand, was 70% happy, 10% the baby of the group, and 20% Louis'. 

Louis tried to argue that it wasn't fair that Harry was only 20% his, if he was 25% Harry's, but the group couldn't be swayed to change it, so he reluctantly accepted defeat and went to get himself another beer, refusing to get one for anyone else. 

When they're finally seated together around the fire pit on the final night of this year's trip, drinks in hand and bundled up in blankets, the mood is a little nostalgic, with no one wanting this little slice of paradise to slip away from them. Most of them won't be back until next year. 

Ed strums the guitar, and Niall tips the mood when he suggests that Ed play "Wonderwall" again. 

“No!” everyone groans in unison. 

“I know!” Bella says, looking around the fire pit, her eyes beaming with mischief. “Let’s pretend we’re back in uni and play some truth or dare?” she suggests, bumping her shoulder into Jess’ from pure excitement. 

A few people groan, a few cheer, but in the end, everyone edges a little closer together, agreeing on the rules. They'll take turns picking either truth or dare, and the first one to address the person whose turn it is gets to ask the question or choose the dare.

“Fine,” Louis says, smirking. “But, if I’m dared to strip, you're all gonna be disappointed. It's chilly."

“You say that like you wouldn’t strip anyway,” Zayn mutters, earning a ripple of laughter from the others. 

“I’ll go first and I choose truth,” Lottie says, not seeming at all nervous. 

“Alright, Lotts,” Liam grins. “What’s the most embarrassing thing Louis has ever done at home?”

Lottie smirks at him, and Louis is nervous, alright. Lottie knows things. "Well, back in secondary school, he once practised a full dance routine to High School Musical in front of the mirror."

Louis’ eyes go wide. Oh no, she didn’t! “YOU PROMISED TO TAKE THAT TO YOUR GRAVE!” he screeches while everyone laughs. 

“You did?” Harry sputters. 

No one outside of their family knew this. She had promised! “Payback will be a bitch, Lotts,” he grumbles. 

Once the dust settles, Liam chooses truth as well. Cherry asks him if he’s ever sexted the wrong person. 

Liam closes his eyes, like the memory alone is scarring him. “My mum. By accident, obviously. Don’t ask.”

Louis nearly chokes on his beer, feeling sorry for the lad. Niall, though, threatens to use the story in a speech at Liam’s and Zayn‘s future wedding. 

Soon, it’s Harry’s turn. He’s right next to Louis, tucked under a shared blanket. He looks amused from the game, his cheeks pink from the wine he’s been drinking. He picks truth, too. 

Jess doesn’t miss a beat. “Why do you always bite Louis?”

The group is stunned for the briefest moment before it explodes in clapping, cackling, and people whooping. Louis is surprised by their reaction and didn't know they all still cared so much about it. The lot of them are all leaning forward, eager to finally hear the explanation.

Harry blinks before grinning sheepishly. “It’s… uh… just our thing? Always has been,” he shrugs. “Some people hug, others slap each other on the arse after football, and I bite Lou.”

“Romantic,” Bella says, winking at Harry. 

“Dental assault,” Zayn adds, to which Harry just rolls his eyes. 

“What can I say? He has never truly asked me to stop,” Harry says, turning his head to smile at Louis. 

Louis elbows him, but feels his ears burn because Harry is telling the truth. He’s asked him many times to stop, but always in a joking way. He has never actually asked him to stop. 

“Alright, Louis,” Amelia cuts in, smiling sweetly at him. “Truth, right?” 

Louis nods.

“Good. So, do you even like it?” Amelia asks, nodding to Harry.

All eyes snap to him. He takes a sip of his beer, buying time, before answering smoothly. “It doesn’t exactly ruin my day,” Louis says, keeping his eyes on Amelia.

Harry leans in close. “You’d miss it,” he mutters quietly, but Louis suspects most of the others hear it anyway. 

“Okay,” Zayn says, smirking in his usual annoying way. “Follow-up question, Haz.”

“No, wait!” Louis interrupts. “We don’t do follow-ups.”

“We do today,” Zayn states, like he has just made that decision on his own. 

Harry shrugs at Louis, smiling softly before nodding at Zayn for him to continue. Louis doesn’t like it. This feels like a trick. 

“So, Haz,” Zayn begins again, “do you do it because you fancy Lou?”

The noise level sparks, and Louis is sure he sees Ed wolf-whistling. Even Liam is laughing. "Good question," he mutters. 

Louis growls, and Harry's jaw drops. "What? No! That's not… I didn't start biting him because I fancy him. I bite him because he’s Lou. He’s… he’s mine, you know? My mate. My person. My best friend,” Harry rambles. 

The words make something tug in Louis' chest, and he tries to laugh it off with the others, but it feels shaky. 

Ed tries to make it Louis' turn again, but he flat out refuses. The questions continue around the circle with each person taking their turn and when they get to Harry again, Louis insists they skip him because Zayn already used this round's question as his follow-up. 

Louis chooses truth again, and when Bella asks her question, he reminds himself that dare is an option, too. These truth bombs from himself and Harry are going to mess everything up. Especially since the rest of the group is ganging up on them.

“Fine,” Bella says slyly. “Lou, has anything ever happened between you two?”

Louis freezes. He glances at Harry nervously. Harry’s almost comically round eyes look like they’re weighing whether he wants Louis to lie or not. They can’t, though. Not with their friends, and definitely not when they’re all staring at them like bloody hawks. 

Louis clears his throat, looking at Harry apologetically. "...Alright," he mumbles. "Once… sort of."

It’s a mix of gasps and cheers before Zayn and Liam both shout at the exact same time. “Fucking knew it!” they holler, pointing at each other before turning to Louis, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“When?” Jess demands, her eyes wide. 

Louis doesn't answer. Instead, he looks at Harry, who's staring at the ground. It's not that Louis won't tell. It's that he doesn't want to say anything Harry doesn't want him to say. 

Then Harry looks up, running a hand through his curls. "My first night at uni. We went to Zayn and Li's for pre-party drinks before heading out to a party. I think it was at that guy's place, the one over on Tate. Anyway we got a little tipsy and…" Harry starts to explain, but then he trails off. 

"We snogged," Louis says bluntly, deciding to spare Harry from having to tell this part. The question was directed at him anyway, and this way, he can try to control the narrative. "Bit of snogging, bit of groping… nothing more. We were… We had missed each other, alright?"

Lottie's jaw drops. "Oh my god! You've kissed?" she asks, voice comically high. She looks at Harry before she shifts her gaze and stares Louis down. She scans him like she can read every flicker of emotion on his face. Honestly? She probably can, and he doesn't have the willpower to fight her or try to hide his feelings from her. He feels too hot all over at the realisation that his walls are about to crumble. 

He tries to shrug, aiming for it to look breezy for everyone but her. “It was years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Niall doesn’t join the noise. He just looks at Harry carefully, like checking he’s okay with it being out in the open now. Harry meets his gaze and nods, small but sure. Louis clocks the silent exchange just like Zayn does. 

“You knew?” Zayn accuses, pointing at Niall. 

Niall holds up his hands, a guilty grin tugging on his lips. "He told me. Swore me to secrecy, and contrary to popular beliefs around here, I actually can keep a secret when I need to. Don’t look at me like that,” he says, directed at Zayn, who looks flabbergasted. 

“You two are unbelievable,” Liam says, shaking his head but laughing. “The whole time we’ve been saying how you’re basically a couple, and it turns out we weren’t even wrong.”

Louis swears his face might combust. To his surprise, it's Amelia who saves them. 

“Oh, come off it. A drunken hook-up. So what? Like all of us here haven’t made out with a friend while drunk at some point in our lives. Move on!” she declares, nudging Louis’ foot with her own. “I pick truth. Hit me with your best shot.”

Cherry quickly asks her who made the first move between her and Niall, and Louis only melts at her reply. 

“Me,” Amelia says, looking over at Niall adoringly. “He thought I was out of his league. Idiot.” 

Louis must remember to thank them both later for giving him and Harry a few minutes of reprieve while the truths and dares made it around their circle one more time. 

By the time it's Harry's turn again, Louis has just gotten his heartbeat under control. 

"Truth is a trap," Harry states in his deep, gravelly voice, quickly looking at Louis before looking straight ahead again. "So, I choose dare.”

Niall doesn’t waste a second. “Kiss Louis,” he dares Harry, grinning like the devil. 

Considering Niall has kept their secret since uni, he was damn fast to turn on them once Harry gave him the okay.

The circle explodes again with squeals, whistles, and Ed even claps excitedly like he's just won a bet. 

Louis stares at Niall. "You absolute gremlin," he hisses, horrified. 

"Rules are rules, my friends," Niall smirks at both of them, his gaze lingering on Harry for longer. It seems like he's trying to convey a secret message. 

Harry turns to Louis slowly. His cheeks are pink, but his eyes… fuck. There’s something dangerous there. “Well?” he says, giving Louis the option to chicken out. 

Louis' chest pounds. He knows he should be making a joke, dodging the dare, but he can't. And damn it, he wants to unlock whatever that look in Harry's eyes means. 

Harry leans in, and Louis doesn't move away. The kiss is meant to be a quick one to satisfy their nosey arse friends, but it's not. Harry raises his hands towards Louis’ cheeks, cradling his face between them, his lips are warm and firm, and they taste like wine. Louis feels a spark inside him, and before he can stop it, Harry deepens the kiss. He tilts his head, and Louis leans in, and for a few endless seconds, it's everything. 

When they finally part, the group is stunned and silent. 

“Holy shit,” Ed says, as Zayn fans himself dramatically. Lottie covers her face with both hands, but peeks out and smiles softly at Louis. 

Louis himself? He sits frozen, his pulse roaring in his ears, while Harry can’t hold a giant smile from forming and taking over his entire face. 

Louis feels like he can't think an honest thought, and thankfully, Liam takes mercy on him and declares that he's taking Louis' turn since Louis apparently looks like his whole world is rearranging itself. Louis believes it, because it fucking does feel like his entire world has just shifted. It feels just like it did that night in uni… only this time, he doesn't think he has the strength to ignore it and pretend it didn't mean anything. 

Louis doesn't pay much attention to the rest of the game. He does chuckle when Zayn is dared to cook breakfast tomorrow morning, only wearing an apron. He tries to get out of it, but it's no use. 

The laughter keeps flowing, but Louis can't quite sink into it. Lottie brings him a vodka redbull and kisses his temple softly. "It's okay, big brother. Just lean into it, yeah? It's about time," she whispers before pulling Lewis with her to the outdoor table-tennis table.

People slowly migrate away from the fire until it's just Louis and Harry left. Louis has no clue what time it is, but he and Harry just exist together for a bit, leaning against each other. 

He doesn't know why no one is teasing them. He's pretty sure this is a clear-cut opportunity. 

Harry stands and pulls the blanket off both of them. He positions himself right in front of Louis and extends a hand. "Come with me, Lou," he murmurs. 

Louis is scared. So fucking scared. He doesn't move a muscle, and he hates himself a little for leaving Harry hanging. 

“Please,” Harry whispers. “It’s just me.”

The last part does him in. It’s Harry. He’s not scared of Harry, so he slowly places his hand in Harry’s and lets his best friend pull him up from where they were seated. 

Their surroundings go quiet, the conversations around them fading. Louis is about to look back over his shoulder, but Harry stops him.

“Don’t, Lou. They don’t matter,” Harry whispers, pulling on his hand gently, but enough to drag Louis after him.

Harry doesn't let him look back. His hand is warm and sure as he tugs Louis past the fire pit and down the uneven path that cuts between the trees. Harry walks them past the dock and down to the path to a partly hidden picnic table that sits right above a little strip of sand. The table is weathered from the years it's been out here and scarred with several sets of initials carved into the wood. 

Louis sits down and takes out his lighter, flicks it and coaxes the citronella candle left out here back to life. The tiny flame throws shadows over his hands and gives the table a glow. The candle, along with the moon, makes sure it's not pitch black out here away from the lights of the lake house. Louis can feel his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, and he looks up at Harry apprehensively, wondering why he hasn't sat down yet. 

Harry paces back and forth in the small space a few times, like he's working up the courage to sit down. When he finally does drop down on the bench beside Louis, he's close. Shoulders-and-thighs-touching close.

Louis fiddles with his lighter, flipping the lid open and shut several times just to keep his hand busy. His chest feels tight, and his words are stuck somewhere behind his tongue. 

Harry breaks first.

“Lou,” he nearly whispers, placing his hand on top of Louis’. “I loved that kiss.”

Louis’ instinct is to joke and to defuse the tension sizzling between them. “Well, it was a pretty alright kiss for a dare kiss. Could’ve been worse for sure.”

The silence that follows makes Louis' cheeks burn. Harry doesn't smile or joke back. He just looks at Louis with his stupid, wide, and earnest eyes. 

And Louis regrets it. The contents of his stomach are turning, making him feel queasy. He groans, letting the lighter drop to the table. "Sorry…" he mumbles. "I'm sorry. That was shit. I didn't mean to joke, my brain just sort of did it on its own," he tries to explain, his voice timid. 

Harry leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, but turning to look into Louis’ eyes. “Then don’t. Just… tell me, okay? Did it mean anything to you?”

Louis swallows, and he can feel panic rising. His heart definitely feels like it's about to jump out of his chest. Just the thought of speaking, practically has him heaving, but he knows he has to. 

“Yeah,” Louis finally whispers, before looking up and braving Harry’s eyes. “It was the best kiss of my life, Haz. And that terrifies me so much.”

Harry breathes out sharply, surprised by the admission in Louis’ words. “So why are we pretending it didn’t mean anything?” he asks, confused. 

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t know why you’re pretending, but I know why I am,” he states, realising that the only way out of this conversation is through it. “What if this ruins us, Haz? What if this is the thing that breaks everything between us? I couldn’t…” he babbles, before correcting himself. “I can’t survive losing you. I can’t do this life without you.”

Harry is quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of every emotion whirling around inside him. "You won't lose me. We've always found each other again, no matter what," Harry reasons. "Through fuck-ups, and different partners and whatever else… We've always come back to each other. Always."

Louis looks down. He knows that Harry is right about everything he has said so far, but this… this is different. 

Harry continues, his voice steadier now. “We’ll always be friends, Lou… but what if we’re meant to be more? What if we've been circling this the whole time and we’ve just been too scared to see it?”

He forces himself to meet Harry's eyes. He looks so open, so raw, so unafraid to let Louis see his deepest secrets. Louis wants to cry because the fear of the potential consequences has too strong a hold on him. 

“I…” he shakes his head helplessly. “No, Haz. What if it breaks us? I can’t take that risk,” Louis says, determined to make Harry see that the risk is bigger than the reward. 

Harry studies him, his expression sad. He closes his eyes briefly, and Louis can feel his heart starting to break in two. Harry stands up and kisses the top of Louis' head, lingering for a beat before walking to the sand, only a few steps away. He pulls off his hoodie and throws it in the direction of the table. 

“Haz?” Louis asks, his heart kicking against his ribs. 

Instead of answering, Harry strips off his t-shirt, his sun-kissed skin lit up by the moonlight. He casually removes his jeans, and then, as Louis bites down hard on his lips, he shimmies out of his briefs, letting them fall down onto the sand. 

Louis can't look away even if he knows he should. He hasn't seen Harry naked since secondary school, and he has filled out nicely, judging by his back muscles that ripple with every movement and his bum that's looking really tight and squishable. No, he has to stop these intrusive thoughts. 

Harry steps into the water, slowly and deliberately walking into the lake until his calves are submerged first, then his thighs. 

“Haz,” Louis calls, realising he needs Harry to answer a question for him.

Harry glances back over his shoulder, his lips curved in something that’s not quite a smile yet. “Yeah?”

“I told you why I was pretending the kiss didn’t mean anything. Why are you pretending?” he asks, absolutely needing Harry’s answer to convince him that he’s doing the right thing. 

His almost-smile turns into a real one, albeit not one of his usual contagious ones. “I’ve spent the last seven plus years being scared that you don’t love me the way I love you,” Harry calls back, but it travels to become nothing more than a whisper. 

“Oh,” Louis says quietly, sure that Harry can’t hear him. 

That means what Louis thinks it means, right? Fuck…

“Come on, Lou,” Harry calls softly. “Swim with me. The water will ease our nerves.”

He wants to keep fighting this. It's the smart decision to keep fighting this, but his body betrays him, as his feet carry him to the sand of their own accord, his heart winning over his mind. Finally, a win for his fucking heart. 

Harry takes a few more steps into the water, his arse disappearing below the water. Shame, really. He turns around and looks at Louis expectantly. 

Louis falters before breathing out a curse. He briefly considers turning around and leaving Harry standing in the water alone, but who is he kidding? He tugs his hoodie and t-shirt over his head in one go and throws them towards the picnic table. To be truthful, he couldn't care less where it lands. Louis hesitates with his fingers trembling against the button on his jeans, but Harry is still looking solely at his eyes. 

"Bloody hell," Louis mutters, mostly to himself. He kicks his trainers off, shoves the denim down, not making a fuss about his briefs, and in a matter of seconds, he's bare. If he stops to think about it for too long, he'll talk himself out of it, so he acts on his desire instead. He steps into the water, one foot in front of the other. The night air is cool against his bare skin, but he doesn't cover himself, and he doesn't hide. If Harry wants him to surrender, then he'll bloody surrender.

The water splashes beneath him, and it should really feel cold, but it doesn't. All he can focus on is Harry. Harry, who doesn't drop his gaze, but still only looks at his eyes. Louis can't pinpoint the look on Harry's face… It's a weird mix between hunger and tenderness. 

Louis might not recognise how cold the water is, but his body sure does. His skin tightens with goosebumps, but his eyes never leave Harry's. Only when Louis reaches the point where the water laps just under his hips does Harry's gaze finally flicker down. It happens quickly, his eyes obviously betraying his intentions. Louis lets out a laugh, startled but fond. Harry huffs, too, and the sexual tension crackles between them. They're laughing, naked in a bloody lake, and for some reason, this doesn't even feel half as weird as it really should. 

“Fuck this shit,” Louis mumbles, his voice shaky. The conversation isn’t over yet, so he squares his shoulders. “What did you mean by that, Haz?” he asks, louder than before.

Harry blinks rapidly a few times, breaking the spell between them. “By what?” he asks.

Louis narrows his eyes as he takes a step closer to him. “Don’t play daft with me. You said you’ve been scared that I don’t love you like you love me.”

Harry's lips part, and for a second, it looks like he might deflect, but then he draws in a deep breath. "You know what I meant, Lou."

Louis shakes his head stubbornly. The way his chest is clenching feels too tight. He needs Harry to spell it out for him. "I need to hear you say it," he whispers.

Harry studies him quietly for a few moments, the water rippling softly between them. He steps close enough that Louis can see the drop of water tracing down his collarbone. 

Then.

“I'm in love with you,” Harry says simply. He doesn’t hesitate or wobble, he just tells Louis the honest truth. “And if I had my way, you and I wouldn't be just best friends, but partners too. Proper partners.”

Louis' resolve vanishes. He surges forward and launches himself at Harry. He jumps forward and loops his arms tight around his neck while he wraps his thighs around Harry's waist. Harry, in turn, stumbles back, laughing as his hands instinctively grab Louis' bare arse to keep him steady. 

“Christ, Lou,” Harry groans, half-laughing. “Did you just jump me naked? Is that really going to be the first thing to happen between us?”

Louis smirks against his cheeks, wiggling a little on purpose. “Well, it’s not like we both haven’t been dreaming about it.”

Harry freezes momentarily. His grip tightens, and his breath shudders against Louis’ ear.

“You're in love with me, too?” Harry asks, his voice small and vulnerable in a way Louis hardly ever hears. 

And then it dawns on him that Harry actually doubted that Louis would love him back the same way. Which doesn't make any sense to him, because of course he loves Harry. Then Louis realises that just a few minutes ago, he told Harry he wasn't ready to risk their friendship. 

So he pulls back enough to look Harry dead in the eye. His heart pounds, but the words spill out, fierce and confident because Harry deserves that. "Of course I'm in love with you, you idiot."

Harry's answering laugh is wet and choked. And then his mouth is on Louis, and it's warm and firm, and Louis feels alive.

The kiss is everything the truth or dare kiss wasn't. First and foremost, it's only theirs. It's clumsy with both of them trying to take control of the kiss, but it's also perfect with the years of circling each other collapsing into this one inevitable moment. 

It takes a minute, but they find their rhythm and fall into a delicious mix of giving and taking. Harry squeezes Louis' arse and Louis digs his nails into Harry's shoulder blades in reply. He can feel Harry's cock nudging against his upper thigh. His own is definitely hard too, and pressed between their bodies. It's both heated and tender, with tenderness giving way to heat and need by the second.

Harry is the first to break the kiss. There might be a sliver of shock in his eyes, but everything else in his demeanour is pure excitement and joy. "Lou…" he trails, biting his lip. 

“I know,” Louis pants, looking at every inch of Harry that’s above water. “I… I ne–need to see you…” he mumbles, before clarifying further, “all of you.”

Harry quirks his eyebrows. “You do, huh?” he asks, grinning. 

Louis is having none of it. He feels like enough time has been wasted, so he nods. “And then I need you to fuck me.”

Harry huffs out a breath before he recovers from Louis' bluntness. "You don't think we should maybe talk first?"

"About what? Come on, Haz, I can feel how hard you are," Louis grunts, wiggling his arse a little to prove his point. 

Harry hesitates. “Maybe we should talk about us? About what this means?” he asks a little nervously.

Louis smiles as he looks at Harry. He seems a little overwhelmed. "Haz," he starts tenderly. "What do you need to know? I love you. I'm in love with you and I want to be your boyfriend, if you'll have me. I'm sorry it has taken us so long to figure out our shit, and now I would very much like to be fucked silly by you. Do you want that too?"

"I'll have you, boyfriend," Harry grins before closing the distance between them to kiss Louis again. When Harry sighs, Louis swallows it readily, slowing down a bit to allow Harry to catch up. 

“Then have me, babe,” Louis whispers, running his hands up and down Harry’s back. 

Harry doesn't answer, but keeping his firm grip on Louis’ thighs, he starts walking them back towards the shore. Louis continues to hold on to him, his arms laced around the back of Harry's neck and his legs wrapped securely around his new boyfriend's waist. When Harry has walked them to the picnic table, he releases his grip on Louis' thighs and slowly glides Louis down his body, fully in control. Louis knew Harry was strong, but fucking hell. Does he live at the damn gym?

They pick up their clothes in the moonlight, stealing glances at each other. Harry blows out the candle and holds out his hand to Louis. Hand in hand, and still naked, they make it back to the path. Harry leads with Louis trailing half a step behind on purpose. He's staring at Harry's naked arse. He bites down on his lip and doesn't even try to hide how much he's enjoying the view. Louis watches the flex of muscles in Harry's thighs and the curve of his arse as he moves. It's fucking criminal really, how good Harry looks. 

Louis chuckles to himself quietly.

Harry glances over his shoulder, the moonlight lighting up his features just enough for Louis to see how he’s practically glowing with or without the moon’s help. “What?” Harry questions him.

Louis smirks, letting his gaze drop deliberately before meeting Harry’s eyes. “Just admiring the view. Gotta say, Haz, it’s very motivating.”

Harry shakes his head, but he doesn’t blush or get embarrassed. “All those hours in the gym are finally paying off, now that you are the one seeing the result.”

“Cheeky, Harold,” Louis grins.

“Yup,” Harry shoots back, letting go of Louis’ hand just long enough to slap his own arse cheek. 

Louis huffs out a laugh. He looks away, but he can feel the corner of his mouth curve up on its own accord. He stays quiet and gives Harry the last word. Louis is used to bantering with Harry, but he’s usually the cheeky one, not Harry. Louis finds that he quite likes this side of Harry. 

They walk in comfortable silence for a moment. Louis breaks it with a low mutter. “I hope everyone’s off to bed by now.”

Harry glances at him and nudges Louis’ shoulder with his own. “What? Are you shy all of a sudden?”

“Not shy,” Louis says quickly. “I just don’t really fancy explaining to everyone why we’re naked and holding hands and why we look more like Tarzan and Jane than Harry and Louis.”

Harry laughs so hard he stumbles, almost dragging Louis down with him, since he doesn’t let go of his hand. 

“And in this scenario I would be…?” Harry asks with child-like glee oozing off him.

Louis doesn’t even have to think about it. “Well, Tarzan, duh! I mean, look at you!”

Harry raises an eyebrow and licks his lips. “So that would make you… Jane?” he asks, looking entirely too gleeful. 

“... I didn’t really think this through,” Louis mumbles, resulting in another huff of laughter from Harry. 

When they reach the porch, it's quiet. There's soft light glowing from the kitchen, but that's all they can see. They pause on the steps, listening. Nothing.

“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Harry whispers. 

“Good,” Louis says. “We should have just fucked in the lake, you know? Away from everyone. Bath and bang.”

Harry groans, low and filthy. “Bath and bang? Fucking hell, Lou.”

Before Louis can laugh, Harry grabs him and pushes him back against the wooden wall of the house. His mouth crashes into Louis’ with a hunger that knocks the air from his lungs. Louis gasps against him, kissing back hard. He slides his hands up Harry's chest, revelling in the feeling of being allowed to feel Harry up. 

Harry drags his mouth lower, down Louis’ throat and over his sternum, until he reaches his left nipple. Harry licks it, flicking his tongue over his nipple until Louis is squirming, whispering little ‘aahs’ and trying to pull away. He is kept where he is by Harry's hand, which applies gentle pressure to his shoulder. Harry ups the ante by gently pulling on Louis' nipple with his teeth.

"Harry…" Louis moans, closing his eyes and trying to comprehend the intense pleasure surging through him. "Fu…fuck," he mumbles, biting down on his bottom lip. 

Harry looks up at him through hooded eyes. If Louis didn't know better, he would think that Harry is drunk, but it must be all of the emotions that feel like electricity sizzling between them. 

"Finish the sentence, Lou," Harry grins at him. There's a wicked gleam in his eyes, and Louis knows Harry is enjoying making him a mumbling mess. 

Louis squints his eyes in confusion for just a second before he realises what Harry wants him to say. And you know what? Fuck it, he'll do it. Because he does want it, and Harry seems to have zero fucks left to give about being found out.

“Fuck me?” he asks, voice more steady than his heartbeat.

"Yes," Harry replies, a dimpled smile taking over his entire face. "Yeah, Lou. I'll make you feel so good," he whispers, before his big paws engulf Louis' face and tilt it just right, so Harry can devour his lips again. 

He pulls away only to lean in close to Louis' ear to whisper something filthy. It's a promise that Louis barely catches, about how Harry wants to taste every part of him. Before he has even finished whispering, he sinks to his knees in a single smooth motion. 

Louis stares down at him, feeling breathless. "Bloody hell, Haz. Eager much?"

Harry looks up at him with sinful innocence. “Been waiting a long time for this. You think you can forgive me for being a bit enthusiastic?” 

As he says it, he begins stroking Louis’ cock. 

A literal whimper escapes Louis. “Oh, fuck… babe,” Louis sighs, realising too late what slipped from his lips. 

Harry’s eyes soften at the pet name, but they don’t delve into it. Not now. 

“You need to be opened up, right?” Harry asks, licking his lips. 

And fuck… if just the thought of opening Louis is this enticing to Harry, then how will he be when he gets to the actual fucking?

Louis nods because he does need it. It's been a bit since he's had sex, and being with Harry for the first time needs to be all pleasure and no pain. 

Without saying anything, Harry hooks one of Louis' legs over his shoulder, settling between his thighs. Then, with maddening deliberation, he licks a broad stripe up Louis' hard cock. 

Louis has to bite his fist to keep from crying out. 

Harry notices from below and pulls back just far enough to tease him. “You don’t want anyone to know, then?”

“Fuck off,” Louis hisses. 

"That's a no then," Harry continues teasing before sinking down on Louis' cock, taking him deep enough that his cock hits the back of Harry's throat. Harry doesn't gag, which makes Louis whine, because what do you mean Harry doesn't have a gag reflex? 

Louis tangles a hand in Harry’s hair, needing it to feel steady, just as Harry slowly draws his lips up Louis shaft, using the movement and suction to milk it, coming off with a pop and a grin. When pre-come beads at the tip, Harry uses it to slick his pointer finger, before moving it back to circle Louis’ rim in slow, calculated motions. 

Louis lets his head fall forward. "What the fuck, Haz?"

Harry looks up at him with hooded eyes that glint wickedly. “Multitasking,” he says, sucking at just the tip of Louis’ cock. 

Louis half-snarls, half-whimpers. “When did you become so damn cheeky?”

“Quiet, Lou,” Harry says, slipping a finger inside him just as he swallows the length of him once more, before sliding off just enough to add. “Be a good boy for me now. You don’t want them to hear you while we’re like this, do you?”

Louis glares down at him, panting with the sensory overload. “You’re evil!” he declares.

Harry smirks around his cock with a gentle hum and the vibration makes Louis nearly choke on a gasp. 

When he sucks him down again, another finger presses in, stretching him open with filthy precision. Louis struggles to stay silent, biting down on his knuckles as he can feel that delicious tightening in his belly. 

"You taste so fucking good, Lou," Harry murmurs as he pulls off just long enough to speak. 

“Harry,” Louis gasps, close to sobbing with how much he wants Harry. “I’m so fucking ready. Let’s go.”

Harry pulls back fully this time, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. As he stands, Louis can see how blown with lust his eyes are. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice amused and so, so deep. “Want to take this inside?”

Louis nods. “Right the fuck now.”

“Come on then, Jane,” Harry snickers.

“Nobody better ever hear about this!” Louis hisses. Harry just laughs, and he hauls him up and throws Louis over his shoulder. He squeals, not expecting to be manhandled again, and definitely not like this.

Harry’s hands are gripping his arse, his fingers digging into the firm flesh.

"Damn, Lou," Harry groans. "Your arse is so pert and curvy, I just want to sink my teeth into it."

“It's what now?” Louis laughs, hanging upside down, not sure if he’s meant to be offended that Harry just called his arse curvy.

“It’s just that your arse is the perfect handful for me,” Harry nearly moans, proving his point by spreading his hands out and really squeezing.

"Have you spent a lot of time thinking about my arse, mate?" Louis asks as Harry walks them inside.

“You know you have a great arse, Lou,” Harry states. Louis gives an affirmative “eh” before Harry continues. “I suspected it would fit nicely in my hands, just never dreamt of how nice it would feel.”

"Your big paws, you mean?" Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist, as he begins to climb the stairs. 

“So, you’ve spent some time thinking about my big hands?” Harry questions him, and Louis might not be able to see the smirk on his face, but he can definitely hear it in his voice. 

“Among other things,” Louis fires back.

Harry snorts, and when they reach the top of the stairs, he gently puts Louis down, gliding his body against Harry's own. They kind of failed at keeping quiet, and Louis is secretly counting his lucky stars that no one has barged out of their rooms yet. 

“Quiet,” Harry growls playfully. “We’ll wake them.”

"You're all bark and no bite, Haz," Louis laughs, not holding his laughter back. "Though, I would like to be fucked just once before we have to come clean to everyone."

When they reach their bedroom door, Harry presses Louis back against it. "You do remember I bite, yeah?" Harry asks, smiling wickedly as he leans down and nips at Louis' collarbone before he kisses the skin soothingly. 

“Ah, fuck,” Louis sighs, closing his eyes. 

Harry takes advantage and steals another heated kiss from Louis. 

“Last warning, Lou,” Harry rasps. “Once we’re inside our room, you’re not leaving it again until you can’t remember your own name.”

Louis’ smirk is pure sin. “Promises, promises, babe. Let’s see if you can deliver.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say—or exactly the right thing, depending on how you look at it—because Harry kicks open the door, pushes Louis inside and shuts it behind them with his foot, noise concerns be damned.

Louis can't help the breathless, giddy laughter that tumbles out of him. This is absolutely mad. He's naked, and so is Harry. They're naked together, and they're sneaking into the house like horny teenagers, and Harry just kicked a door closed with his foot like some kind of action hero. 

The noise he just made while closing the door seems to dawn on Harry, because he freezes and starts laughing, too. There's something special about the laugh to him. It doesn’t sound like Harry’s normal laugh. This one is equal parts relief and disbelief woven into a chuckle, and Louis wants to bottle the sound and keep it forever.

When their laughter finally dies down, Harry leans in and presses his forehead to Louis'. They're both panting, and Harry's voice is whispery and deep when he speaks. 

"This should feel awkward. Absurd even. It should at least feel weird, right?" Harry asks rhetorically. "And yet…"

“And yet it doesn’t,” Louis finishes. 

Harry shakes his head in wonder. “Not even a little bit. It still feels like us,” he says, sounding stunned.

Louis breathes a sigh of relief when he realises Harry is right. This does, somehow, feel like a natural progression of their relationship. 

Harry kisses him then, slow and sweet. It feels like a promise, and Louis knows deep in his bones that this won’t ruin them. Turning their relationship romantic won’t break them, it will make it even better. It just feels right.

The air between them shifts as the sweetness and silliness of the last few minutes hums into something hotter. Louis steps back, taking in the sight of Harry's flushed skin, and the little moles scattered between his tattoos across his shoulders. Harry's cock is standing proud between them, almost making Louis salivate. His best friend, his person, is laid bare right before him.

“Fucking hell, Haz,” Louis whispers. “You’re… unfairly fit.”

Harry’s grin is bashful, but Louis catches the few notes of smugness in it, only because he knows every one of Harry's facial expressions from years of studying them. “And now it's finally paying off because I get to show it off to the person I always wanted to show it off to,” Harry says, looking straight at Louis. 

“I’ve looked,” Louis reassures him. “I just haven’t been awarded the full experience until now.” 

Louis runs a fingertip down Harry's sternum before letting his touch wander. He maps out Harry's torso, running his hands across his pecs, down his ribs, and finally following the trail of dark curls leading lower. Harry shivers under Louis' ministrations, and Louis is very much enjoying the effect he has on him. He continues to tease Harry by dipping his head and pressing open-mouthed kisses along the same path. A nip here and a slow lick there. When he bites lightly at Harry's hipbone, Harry—not used to being the one bitten— yelps, his hands flying to grab onto Louis' hair, tugging slightly.

“Lou,” Harry rasps, pleading.

“You bite me all the time. It’s only fair,” Louis smirks against Harry’s hip.

Louis drops into a squat before Harry can argue, bracing his hands on Harry’s slender but strong thighs. When Louis drags his tongue, slow and deliberate, from the base of Harry’s cock all the way to the tip, Harry’s breath hitches audibly. 

“Yeees,” Harry moans, his hips jerking. 

Louis chuckles, letting the sound vibrate against Harry’s skin on purpose. “Sensitive, are we?”

"Don't be such a tease," Harry grits out, as Louis kitten licks his frenulum. His fists are clenched at his sides. "I need to be in you. Please, Lou."

Louis teasingly sucks Harry fully into his mouth just once, then releases him before standing up again. “I know. I just wanted a little taste.”

“Just a little taste, is that all you need, Lou?” Harry asks, mocking him. 

“You’re such a little shit,” Louis groans, pulling Harry into a bruising kiss that turns desperate quickly. 

Their hands are everywhere, bodies pressing together like they're trying to fuse. It's sort of messy, but oh-so perfect.

Then, before Louis even realises what's happening, Harry has him turned around and pushed up against the back of their closed bedroom door, Louis feeling the cool timber against his bare chest and cock.  Harry is behind him, pressed against his body as he links each of his hands with Louis’, raising and spaying their fingers on the door either side of their heads, pinning Louis in place. Louis can feel Harry's cock pressed against his arse as Harry begins a slow grind of his hips, his tongue and lips exploring the nape of Louis’ neck and across the top of his shoulder, leaving little bruises and teeth impressions as he slowly begins his sampling of Louis body.

A low moan escapes Louis’ mouth as he feels his body shiver.  

“Hmmm? What was that Lou?” Harry leans in closer to whisper, his breath and lips ghosting against Louis’ ear before switching his attention to the other shoulder.

Louis is lost in the moment, the feeling of Harry pressed up behind him, being at his mercy.  Without warning, Harry releases his hands and drops to his knees, takes one of Louis’ arse cheeks in each hand and spreads them slightly.  He leans in and gives a quick swipe of his tongue across Louis’ hole before leaning back and blowing a slight puff of air from his swollen lips. 

Louis moans again, his hips jutting forward involuntary, seeking friction.  Harry reaches round with one hand and gives Louis’ cock a gentle squeeze and starts moving his hand up and down slowly, collecting the drops of pre-cum from the tip with the pad of his thumb.  Then, with Louis' attention diverted, he begins licking, sucking and nibbling Louis’ right arse cheek. As the speed of his hand increases, and with Louis lost in the sensation, Harry bites down on the tender area of skin where his arse cheek meets the top of his inner thigh, creating suction with his mouth. Louis gives a slight yelp before Harry releases the skin and licks a wet and soothing kiss over the area.

“Fuck, Haz. Your mouth is… It's…”

“What was that you said about me being all bark and no bite?” Harry teases. “Hmm?”

Louis lets out a chuckle. “Trust you to bite my arse at the first opportunity you get. I'll have to find a suitable nickname for you,“ Louis teases back.

“Heeeey,” Harry says in his slow drawl as he stands and spins Louis around again so his back is now against the bedroom door. Grinning, he lifts Louis effortlessly, his giant paws holding him up by his arse and Louis laughs into his mouth, slowly getting used to these sporadic shows of strength from his boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. Shit… 

“Show off,” Louis mutters, smirking.

Harry walks them the short way to the bed. "You love it," Harry says, like he's stating a fact.

And he kind of is, because Louis does. God help him, he really does love it. 

When Harry sets him down on the rug next to the bed, they stare at each other for a moment, the magnitude of what’s about to happen crackling in the air around them. 

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “So… this is really happening, huh?”

“Definitely happening,” Harry grins, his dimples flashing through the haze of lust enveloping them. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

"Not a chance in hell," Louis breathes, letting himself flop onto the bed before lying down. 

Harry follows him down, and they fumble a little. They're bumping noses and laughing into each other's mouths. 

“Smooth start,” Louis teases, gasping when Harry’s teeth graze his jaw. 

“Shut up,” Harry growls, turning his head to nip at his earlobe. “You’re very distracting. I want everything with you right this minute.”

Louis' laugh turns into a moan when Harry's hand wraps around his cock. "You're the one… ah… distracting me," Louis whispers.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, stroking him slowly. “You like it when I touch you like this?”

“Haz…” Louis gasps, his back arching slightly off the bed. “I fucking love it.”

“Good,” Harry says simply. “Cause there will be a lot of this from now on,” he adds before kissing Louis again. 

Louis doesn’t have a clue how long they kiss for. All he knows is that it goes from kissing to grinding to Louis pushing Harry off and to the side because he doesn't want to come until Harry is inside of him. 

“We need a condom. Do you have one?” he asks, panting, his impatience showing in full force.

This makes Harry look a little embarrassed. This. Not anything else they’ve done in the last couple of hours. He nods, though, pushing himself off the bed, before going to his duffel bag and pulling out a few condoms and some lube.

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Prepared, huh?”

"Shut up," Harry says, throwing the condoms at him. "Just be glad one of us was. Otherwise, this," he says, pointing between them, "wouldn't be happening."

"Let's get checked next week, so we can drop them, eh?" Louis suggests, surprising himself a little with the suggestion. It would be entirely too soon to drop condoms if this were anyone but Harry.

“Really?” Harry asks.

“Really, babe. Wanna feel you bare.”

Harry instinctively bites his lower lip, nodding. “You want to do the honours?” he asks, looking down at his cock. 

Louis doesn't say anything. It's not necessary. He sits up,  carefully opens a condom packet, and rolls it on rather unceremoniously, but never breaks eye contact. 

The air between them is electric with tension. Harry crawls up between Louis’ thighs and lines himself up. 

“I want to see you, Lou. Stay on your back,” Harry instructs, grabbing the lube and gently swiping some over Louis' hole, before placing his hands on Louis’ knees. 

They both freeze for a second, the weight of the moment settling in. 

“This should be weird,” Harry murmurs, echoing his earlier words. “You’re my best friend, and we’re about to…” 

“Fuck,” Louis supplies, grinning wickedly. He can’t fucking wait. “Yeah, we are.”

Harry laughs, relief bursting through the tension. “And yet…”

Louis reaches his hands up, cupping Harry's face tenderly. “And yet it feels so right.”

"Exactly," Harry grins, before leaning in, kissing him softly and deeply. 

When Harry finally pushes in, it’s slow and careful. 

Louis gasps, clutching at Harry’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck… Fuck, Haz,” Louis moans. 

Harry keeps eye contact with him throughout, and it’s one of the most erotic things to ever happen to him. It’s hard to explain since it’s just eye contact, but it makes Louis feel treasured, that Harry is looking at him and not solely concentrating on how it feels for himself. 

“Alright?” Harry asks, stilling his movement.

“Yes,” Louis pants, his eyes fluttering closed against his will. He wants to keep eye contact, but the feeling of Harry being inside of him is too much. “It’s so good, Haz. Keep going.”

Harry does. He runs his hands up and down Louis’ thighs as he pushes the rest of the way in. Harry groans, letting his upper body fall forward. “Christ, Lou. You feel…”

Louis grips Harry’s shoulders to pull himself up enough to cut him off with a kiss, because he feels the overwhelming rightness of it. 

Harry starts moving again when he ends the kiss. It’s messy at first. Harry thrusts too high, Louis wiggles to find the right angle, and they both end up laughing. 

“A bit uncoordinated, aren’t we?” Louis teases, loving how they can laugh about it.

“First time jitters,” Harry shoots back, grinning. “We’ll get it.”

“Damn right we will,” Louis says, wrapping his legs tight around Harry’s waist. “Now shut up and fuck me properly.”

Harry’s smile turns wicked. “Yes, sir!”

The following thrusts have Harry finding his rhythm, and it isn't long before Louis is seeing stars.

“Fuck, yes! That’s it, Haz,” Louis pants, trying to meet Harry’s every thrust.

Harry moans deeply. “So good for me, Lou. You’re taking me so beautifully,” he says, his voice raw with lust and love.

“Filthy mouth,” Louis gasps, even as he urges Harry on. “I never knew you could talk like that.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Harry growls. “Only for you, though,” he adds, leaning down to bite at Louis’ shoulder.

Louis cries out, surprised. He digs his nails into Harry’s back. “Bloody hell,” he whimpers. “You really do bite.”

And fuck it, if Harry's bites aren't going to be one of his favourite things about sex with Harry. Being bitten during sex brings the intimacy of it to a whole new level that Louis can hardly fathom. 

“You love it,” Harry challenges, pulling back enough to look at him. 

“Fuck… I think I do,” Louis admits, no shame in his game. This is Harry. He doesn’t have to hide anything. “Do it again?”

So Harry does. This time, he bites down on the meaty part right above the armpit, where shoulder meets chest. It's fucking magnificent in the way it makes sparks shoot through Louis' body, which in turn makes his hips thrust upwards enthusiastically to meet every thrust of Harry's. 

They find their rhythm, and it's a perfect mix of tenderness, hunger and damn near animalistic want. Harry's hips slam into Louis while his hands cradle Louis' face like he's the most precious thing in the world. Louis drags his nails down Harry's back so hard that it definitely leaves marks. Judging by the sound that leaves Harry’s mouth, he enjoys it. Louis just can't stop touching him. He cups his jaw, runs his fingers through Harry's sweat-damp curls and holds on tight to his waist as Harry keeps fucking him, claiming him… loving him. 

“Haz,” Louis gasps, almost incoherent. “I’m go– gonna… fuck. I’m gonna…”

“Come for me,” Harry urges, fucking him harder and taking Louis’ cock in his hand, jerking it. “I want to see you fall apart, Lou.”

That does it. Louis comes with a loud cry, clutching Harry’s shoulders as his whole body trembles. Harry follows a second later, burying himself deep as he moans out Louis’ name. 

They collapse side by side, sweaty, panting, and laughing breathlessly. Harry removes and ties off the condom, dropping it beside the bed, before Louis leans over and rests his head on Harry’s chest, feeling the beat of the racing heart contained within. Louis fingers his chest hair softly, revelling in the feeling of being close to Harry like this. 

“That was… this was… I mean,” Harry stutters. “That was…”

Louis chuckles, endeared by Harry’s mumbling. “Good. This was so fucking good Haz. So imagine how much better we can be when we've had some more practice and aren't still half pissed?"

Harry leans in, a small chuckle escaping his throat as he kisses the top of Louis' head. “Yes, that’s what I wanted to say.”

“I know, babe. I can’t believe we’ve wasted so much time,” Louis says, annoyed. 

“We could have been doing this for years already,” Harry says, pushing himself into a sitting position and dragging Louis along with him. 

“We’re idiots,” Louis states.

“We were idiots. Now we’ve figured it out, thank god,” Harry says, enveloping Louis in a hug, tightening his arms around Louis’ body. 

Louis isn't sure how long they sit like that before they fall asleep, but it's a while. They talk about anything, nothing and everything in between. It feels… normal. Like any other night, where they would hang out and spend half the night talking on the sofa. Except now, they're in a bed, stark naked, and discovering that taking short breaks to kiss each other is actually a thing.

Chapter Text

Flashback: Clubbing gone wrong
Louis, age 28 & Harry, age 25

Louis’ POV

(A month before the lake house)

They'd gone to a new club Zayn had heard good things about. Louis enjoyed the bar scene more than a club, but he's here along with half the town, it seems. It's crowded, and it's the kind of club where the bass is bouncing off the walls and the DJ keeps dropping the kind of bangers that even the people who try to resist, give in to it by the second chorus. 

They're out as a group, but it's the first time Jeremy has tagged along for a night out with Louis' friends. He's met them plenty of times for dinner at the pub or at one of their flats, but it's the first time there's alcohol involved. 

Jeremy is his new-ish boyfriend. They had been hooking up casually for about five months before they agreed to give it a proper go. They've been exclusive for just over a month, and it's going fine so far. Louis already knows that it's not a forever thing for him, but it's fine for the time being. Jeremy is kind and funny, and the sex is pretty great, too. He's a bit clingy, though, and Louis feels like he's monopolising his time. 

Tonight they’re out with Zayn and Liam, who are already sweaty messes from giving it their all on the dance floor since the minute they entered the club. Ed, Cherry and Harry are tucked into a booth with a bucket of beers and a bowl of lime wedges. Niall and Amelia are slow dancing to a song not made for slow dancing. New love leaves them giddy with affection. 

Louis briefly thinks that he should be like that with Jeremy, and yet he definitely doesn't feel like slow dancing with him right now. 

Jeremy is hanging on his arm, trying to whisper suggestive things to him when he spots Harry shimmying out from the booth and onto the dance floor. He looks tipsy in that glittery way, where everything is fun, warm, and vibrant. He seems happy, which is nice. He hasn't looked this happy since his relationship with what's-his-name ended. He's been single for a few months now. Louis knows it's only a matter of time before someone snatches him up, and he has to go through the motions with a giggly, newly infatuated Harry. Again.

Right now, he's dancing with flailing arms, feeling the music deep in his soul, without a care for what other people think, and when Niall joins him for a stupid shoulder-rolling routine, Louis can't stop himself from smiling. They're living for the chorus, Harry's smile too bright and careless for someone who'd just had his heart knocked sideways. He had already glanced over at Louis twice, and he'd made sure to smile back at him both times. He wants to join their silly dance, but he knows Jeremy won't appreciate it. 

"Want another?" Jeremy asks, pulling Louis' attention back on him. He's half-shouting over the music, which has now shifted into an old Bronski Beat classic. Clubs are just not made for conversations, but definitely for dancing until you can't possibly dance anymore. 

Louis checks his glass. It's still half-full with vodka and Redbull. "I'm good," he says, slipping his hand to the small of Jeremy's back, to reassure him that Louis isn't trying to float away, even if he does kind of want to join his friends on the dance floor. 

“Do you want to dance with me?” Louis suggests, hoping Jeremy will loosen up a little. 

Jeremy shakes his head no, but leans down to kiss Louis' cheek. He wraps an arm around Louis' shoulder to keep him close. Louis is usually all for his partner being a bit possessive, but mainly in the bedroom, not out at the club. Jeremy likes to stake his claim, and he's been doing it a lot more since they decided to be exclusive. His palm finding Louis' hip or his arm looping around Louis' shoulder to keep him close. It isn’t awful, but it’s just… noticeable and a bit suffocating if he's being honest. 

Instead of dancing, Louis guides him over to the booth where Ed and Cherry are still sitting. They’re more into the bar and pub scene, too. They’re the easiest people in the world to talk to, and Jeremy seems to finally relax a little. 

“But babe, the blue light is giving you corpse-face,” Liam says, approaching the booth, nodding at Ed and Cherry to move further in, so there’s room for him to sit down. 

“It does not. I look fucking fit,” Zayn argues, reaching over and taking a big gulp of Ed’s beer. 

“You look like the artist you are, Zayn” Cherry chirps, grinning.

Louis laughs at his friends' shared banter. Nights like these always loosen something in his chest. It's that feeling of their group being together and just having fun that settles something in him. The sense of belonging. 

Harry comes sashaying back to them with Niall, flushed and glittering with sweat. 

“I think the DJ is on something tonight,” Harry laughs, breathless and beaming. “It’s like a 2009 gym playlist but make it camp.”

“So basically it’s everything you love,” Louis says, teasing him. 

It earns him a dimpled grin. “Exactly!” 

He takes a sip of Louis’ vodka Redbull, even if he despises it and typically berates Louis for drinking it. Then he swings an arm around Niall’s shoulder. “One more, yeah?”

Niall whoops like a seal, blows Amelia a kiss, and lets himself be hauled back into the crush of people.

Jeremy leans in close, so only Louis can hear him. “Your lot has a lot of energy,” he says. It’s not unkind, but it has edges. 

“You’ve seen them be loud and rowdy before,” Louis says, starting to get a bit annoyed with his mood. 

“Sure,” Jeremy counters, “but not like tonight.”

Louis decides to not let Jeremy bring his mood down, so he stands and tugs Jeremy with him a few steps into the mass of people. They stay on the outskirts of the crowd, where you can sway and not get elbowed. By the chorus, Jeremy has loosened up some, and they're moving together in their own little world. Every time Louis lifts his hands, Jeremy's fingers slide over his waist in a steady and claiming way. Louis doesn't fight it, content to give him the attention he's craving right now. 

In the middle of the huddle, Harry looks wrecked, in a good way. Louis catches his eye, and he spins Niall out and shouts the lyrics, throwing his head back and laughing. Harry doesn't look lonely, but Louis knows better than to judge his mood by what he shows to everyone else. Harry can be the life of the party, and then go home with a quiet ache. That's why Louis keeps glancing over to check on his best friend. It's what they always do and what they've always done. 

The song cuts to a new one, and Louis can feel the shift before he sees Harry peeling away from Niall. His gaze follows him as Harry shoulders his way to the bar before he loses sight of him. Louis tries to concentrate on his boyfriend, but his eyes keep searching for Harry. He spots him just as a bartender slides two drinks his way. The bartender says something that has Harry tugging his bottom lip into his mouth before he thanks the man. When he turns, he clocks Louis staring at him. Harry's face lights up with a glittering smile as he makes his way towards Louis and Jeremy. 

Louis' chest did that low, familiar seize. He keeps telling himself it's only fondness. Tonight, he also tells himself not to catalogue the way Harry's curls stick to his forehead and the way his shirt is sticking to his sweaty chest. He tells himself a lot of things.

Harry arrives with a flourish. "For you," he says, presenting the new drink to Louis like a prize. "And for me, because I'm a man of mystery." He leans in to be heard, putting his mouth near Louis' ear. Louis notices how his breath is sweet with lime. 

Louis smiles. “Have you been drinking water too, or just alcohol?”

Harry rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his new drink. “Mum.”

"Quite rude," Louis chirps. "I'm the fun police at most."

They both laugh with the potential loaded meaning, before Harry glances at Jeremy.

“Hey, Jer,” he says, going for polite and friendly but not quite managing it. 

“Harry,” Jeremy nods back. He doesn’t reach for Harry’s hand, but he does bring his arm back to Louis’ hip, possessively. 

Louis can see that Harry notices, but he doesn't visibly react. "What's your rating of the DJ now?" Louis asks, both because he wants to chat with Harry and to deflect from the rising tension between his boyfriend and best friend. "Still 2009 camp?" he adds.

“Elevated,” Harry says, eyes bright as they meet Louis’. “They played Bronski Beat. That’s definitely a green flag.”

“Bronski Beat is a green flag, yes” Louis agrees, and they grin at each other like idiots.

They include Jeremy in their conversation, and it's decent. Jeremy obviously has a problem with how close Louis and Harry are, and an even bigger problem with the biting, but for now, they manage. All Louis wants is for Jeremy to see Harry for who he is and not as someone who's trying to steal Louis away from him. There have been many conversations about it and some snide remarks from Jeremy during and after pub dinners, it's exhausting. 

When Jeremy excuses himself to go to the bathroom, Harry’s gaze flickers up and down Louis’ face. “You good?” he asks.

"I am," Louis says and means it. He's enjoying the night, especially now that he's managed to get Jeremy alone for a bit, which has put him in a better mood. Jeremy just needed Louis' undivided attention for a bit, and Louis supposes that's not actually too much to ask from your boyfriend. 

“You’re sweating,” Harry notes, handing Louis a napkin from nowhere, because of course Harry has a napkin. 

“God, you can be such a grandma,” Louis huffs, but takes the damn napkin to dab his forehead. He puts it into Harry’s pocket, because that’s normal, right?

“Heeeey,” Harry objects mildly, lightly pushing at Louis’ shoulder. 

He waits a second, and Louis can see it happening before it does. It’s like muscle memory for Harry, a reflex, as he puts his mouth to the side of Louis’ neck, just below the ear and bites. 

It’s not a hard bite. It never is. It’s just enough pressure to leave a mark and to demand some attention from Louis. Louis’ body goes hot and electric. He’s startled because Harry caught him by surprise, but he’s not surprised it happened. A tug of his sleeve, a head resting on his shoulder and a bite—that has always been their language. 

He doesn’t shove Harry away. Not even when he sees Jeremy walking towards them with fire in his eyes. 

He looks livid, and as he closes the distance between them, he clenches his fists by his side. "The fuck are you doing?" Jeremy booms, his words raw and too loud. "That's my boyfriend."

Harry flinches. It wasn’t much, but Louis sees it. Harry takes half a step back, hands up, trying to defuse the situation. “It’s just—”

“Do not say it’s just your thing,” Jeremy barks the words in what’s supposed to sound like a laugh but doesn’t. “Don’t say that. You just bit his neck in the middle of a club. In front of everyone.”

People close by turn their heads. Of course they do, since they’re causing a scene and club dramas travel faster than the beats.

“It’s not like that,” Louis says quickly, feeling heat rising and wanting to cool it down. “Harry has always done that. Come on, Jer.” Louis reaches for Jeremy’s wrist, trying to calm him down with a look and a soft touch. “Haz wasn’t—”

“Harry wasn’t what?” Jeremy demands, cutting him off. “Harry wasn’t being territorial? Wasn’t being intimate with my boyfriend in front of me? Because that’s what it looked like,” Jeremy snarls, his eyes snapping between Louis and Harry. 

Zayn has drifted in behind them along with Liam. They look on apprehensively, but Louis knows they're ready to help if it escalates. Niall, Amelia, Cherry, and Ed are a few steps away, all of them looking worried.

"It's not…" Harry starts, then falters as if he has hit a wall. His voice sobers, sounding sombre. "I'm sorry, Jer. It… It's a habit. We've done it for ages, and Louis doesn't mind. Sometimes I forget other people don—"

“Other people, like the person he’s dating?” Jeremy laughs, his laugh sharp enough to cut paper. “Or maybe you forgot that other people don’t want to feel like the third wheel in their own relationship?”

Louis' face burns. He hates everything about this. The public confrontation and Jeremy's eyes on them more than anything, like he's analysing every movement of Louis. He glances at Harry to check how he is doing, and his heart sinks when he sees him looking wrecked. All the joy of the night is scraped off, and Louis wants to gather it and stick it back on like glitter. 

“Let’s not do this in the middle of the dance floor,” Louis pleads with him, but to no avail. Jeremy shakes his head as Louis suggests they take it outside.

Instead, Jeremy steps back, palms up, backing away like he's distancing himself from a crime scene. 

“No! I’m done talking about this. I’m just done with this,” he says, resigned and gesturing at the space between Louis and Harry. "I told you it made me feel like shit. It feels like I am a placeholder until… And you keep… You keep letting him…" Jeremy shakes his head, frustration coming off him in waves. He shoots Harry a look that makes Louis want to stand between them, as a protective barrier to ensure Jeremy's vitriolic tirade doesn't land on Harry. "You two are so far in your own bubble you don't even see the rest of us."

Louis’ jaw tightens. This should not be a public conversation. “It’s never been about replacing you,” Louis says fiercely. “It’s about the fact that he’s been my best mate since we were kids. He’s… Harry. I can’t un-Harry Harry to make you comfortable,” Louis argues, exasperated. 

Jeremy stares at him, as if Louis has just made his final decision. Maybe he has? 

“And there it is,” Jeremy says, his voice hollow. “That’s always been it, hasn’t it? You will always choose him.”

Louis opens his mouth to say no, but he can’t and he won’t lie. So he says nothing. 

“Yeah,” Jeremy says, resigned. He nods in that way a person does when they’ve come to terms with something. “We’re done,” he says to Louis before turning his gaze to Harry. It’s not unkind anymore, just tired, defeated. “You win. You can have him.”

It lands like a punch to his gut. Like the wind has been knocked out of him, even if it was almost whispered. Jeremy turns without another word and walks out of the club and out of Louis' life for good. Louis' first instinct is to go after ham. His second is to turn to Harry. He does neither, and instead, he just stands there, in the middle of the club, frozen. 

"I'm…" Harry starts. He shuts his eyes for a second, and when he reopens them, they're glassy. "Lou, I'm so sorry."

Louis says nothing. He just stares… at Harry, at their friends, at nothing.

"We should go outside," Liam murmurs, already moving and placing a hand on Louis' lower back to guide him towards the exit. 

The night air hits them cold and clean in stark contrast to the humidity inside. It feels like a slap to the face. The cold air, the public break-up and Harry once again being the reason for it. It's getting fucking old. He digs his fingers into his hair and swears under his breath. Anger is boiling inside of him with nowhere to go. He wants to laugh. To slam his fist into a wall. He wants to avoid going through this again. 

"Lou," Harry says quietly. He's keeping a distance between them for once. Probably because he can feel the anger radiating off Louis. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, looking down at his feet. 

“I know,” Louis says, not intending to say anything else, because he knows Harry is sorry. Something ignites inside him, though, and before he knows it, words are spilling from his lips with no filter. “What is it that you fucking want from me, Haz?” he roars harshly and too loud in the quiet street. Zayn’s head snaps up, surprised. Cherry takes Ed’s hand. “Do you want me to be miserable and single for the rest of my life, yeah? So you can bite me, claiming me whenever you’re bored and drunk? Is that it?”

Harry recoils like he’s been hit. To be fair, it’s been years since Louis has gone off on him like this. “No,” Harry whimpers instantly. “God, no… Lou.. I—”

“Because that’s what it feels like,” Louis continues, cutting Harry off. “It feels like any time I try to mov… to have something with someone, you get in the way. I keep choosing you, Harry, over any relationship, and…” he snaps his mouth shut, his words tasting like panic and moving into dangerous territory. 

Harry looks at him like the ground is dissolving beneath his feet. He takes a step closer and then stops. "I want…" he swallows, his cheeks flushing, as adrenaline courses through his body. "I want someone for you who doesn't get jealous of a little biting. Jealous of me."

Zayn snorts, lifting his chin to eye Harry. It’s not unkind, but he looks at him seriously. “Any boyfriend would get fucking jealous of someone else biting their partner, mate. No matter how long they've been friends.”

Harry flinches, but he doesn’t get defensive. His eyes move from Zayn to the pavement, to Louis, and then away again. “I know,” he says, defenceless. “I know. I’m not… I’m not saying Jeremy is wrong. I did the thing I always do, and I didn’t think about what it looked like. I just wanted…” he tries to explain, letting out a broken laugh. “I wanted attention. Yours. But it’s not an excuse.”

"Harry," Cherry says gently, carefully. "We all know you didn't mean to stir anything up."

“But I did stir it,” Harry says, his voice raw and honest. “And I’ve made this exact mess before for the both of us. This time it’s Louis who has to mop it up. I’m just so… sorry.”

Louis watches him. He wants to take Harry's face in his hands and tell him it isn’t all his fault. He also wants to be allowed to be angry about this without Harry’s big green Bambi eyes getting watery and making it impossible to stay mad.

“He shouldn’t have dumped you like that,” Niall says, filling the silence. “Not like that.”

"Maybe it was overdue," Louis says, trying to wrap his head around the last thirty minutes. "He's been complaining about it ever since we got exclusive, and I kept… I don't know? Thinking he'd learn the contours, maybe? The shape of it?" Louis says, waving a hand at the air between himself and Harry. 

“The shape is a lot,” Liam says truthfully. “We’ve all had to learn the shape.”

Ed huffs. “Still learning it, if we’re honest.”

Louis lets out a breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says again, like it will resonate better if he says it for the fourth time. “For the thing itself, and for the timing and for… just… for everything I’m bad at, which is… boundaries, I guess.”

“Understatement,” Zayn says without heat, making sure to smile at Harry, so he doesn’t take it the wrong way. Harry shrugs, though, like he’s admitting that Zayn is right. 

Louis is tired. His anger isn't as potent anymore, and he hears his own words loop back to back in his head —  "Do you want me to be miserable?" It sounds cruel now that the cold air has sobered him, but he needs to ask the question again. 

“What do you want from me, Haz?” he asks for a second time, softer this time. 

No one says anything as they wait for Harry to answer. Louis isn’t even sure anyone is breathing. The anticipation is palpable. 

Harry locks eyes with Louis before he speaks. “I want someone for you who doesn’t see me and run away,” he says unequivocally. “And I want to stop doing the thing where I make it harder,” Harry finishes, softer and less sure of himself.

Louis needs Harry to not get too in his head over this. "For what it's worth… for what it's worth I'll al—" he cuts himself off because the words pressing at his teeth are dangerous. He can't tell Harry that he'll always pick him right now. Saying them tonight would mean something else had to follow. It's too loaded for tonight. 

Louis sighs, picking his brain for something acceptable to say. “You’re not the villain here,” he lands on, smiling gently at Harry. “You’re just.. You.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem,” Harry says honestly. 

"It isn't," Louis says automatically, because that's what he always does, defend Harry. Then, because this night has genuinely been a shit show, and truths are being shared, he continues. "But sometimes it can be."

Harry nods sadly, but offers a crooked smile that is not really a smile. 

“Haz,” Niall says, definitively. “Amelia and I will walk you home. Let’s go.”

They say their goodbyes. Quick hugs, pats on the back and some quiet goodnights. 

As Harry walks down the street with Niall and Amelia, Louis can't let what he said be the last words he says to him tonight.

“Hey, Haz,” he hollers, turning and waiting until Harry turns around. “Not your fault.” 

He sees Harry give him a quick nod before Niall throws his arm over Harry's shoulder as they continue walking. Louis turns back to his friends, pensive.

"Mate," Liam says carefully, when the rest of the group starts walking to the tube. 

“Not tonight,” Louis replies curtly. 

“But—” Ed starts.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want your opinions about Jeremy or about Harry, and I definitely don’t want your opinions about me and Harry,” Louis spits, almost venomously. He can acknowledge that he’s taking his frustrations out on his friends and that they don’t deserve it, but that’s what’s happening right now anyway. 

"Louis," Zayn says sternly, like he's about to unleash some truths that Louis has no interest in hearing.

“I swear to god, Zayn!” Louis shouts. “Shut up and just be my friend right now. Fuck. I just need you all to be my friends right now.”

The three men are frozen on the spot, but Cherry takes a step forward, links her arm with Louis and starts walking, pulling him along. "You got it, Lou," she chirps and starts talking about the ongoing office drama at her work, which she's been giving updates on for the last six months. It makes him chuckle. 

Thank fuck for Cherry. 

Chapter Text

Sunday
Louis’ POV

Louis wakes to a shoulder under his cheek and a steady heartbeat in his ear. 

For three long seconds, his brain tries to tell him this is like any other morning he's woken up next to Harry. Being tangled together, being too warm and the unmistakable scent of Harry's coconut shampoo. 

Then the last twelve hours start flashing before his eyes. The revealing game of truth or dare, the kiss that wasn't a joke. The damn lake. Being naked in the lake. Having sex with his best friend turned boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. 

Louis sighs. And then the most significant difference between this morning and previous mornings, when they have woken up together, dawns on him. 

They're still naked. 

Louis smiles against Harry’s chest. So this is his reality now? Being Harry’s? Waking up together every day? Shit… he’ll take it.

"Morning," Harry murmurs into his hair, his voice still deep and gravelly from sleep. He squeezes Louis by the waist before letting his hands slide up and down Louis' sides a few times. "You're really real."

“So are you,” Louis whispers, because apparently they are doing soft today. He tilts his head up enough to see him, only to find Harry already looking at him. He looks even better than usual in the morning light, but Louis could be biased. 

“Was worried I’d dreamt it,” Harry says, almost shy. “Especially the bit about us being boyfriends.”

Louis’ grin lights up his whole face. “Nope. Not a dream. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Say it again.”

“Greedy,” Louis teases, but he obliges anyway. Quiet and certain. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Harry's answering smile hit every soft spot inside Louis. He looks brighter than a sunrise, and he hums like he could live off that glow alone for a week. His hands slide up Louis' spine, his fingertips drawing lazy lines over his back. Louis loves the tenderness of it, and it excites him when he realises that there'll be so many new things to learn about Harry in this new context. 

“We should probably go downstairs at some point,” Harry drawls. “If for no other reason than to get a glimpse of Zayn, to see if he’s actually cooking breakfast in nothing but an apron,” he chuckles.

“Fuck, that’s right,” Louis laughs, having forgotten about Zayn’s dare. “Well, he’s not one to back down from a dare.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Harry pleads, brushing his fingers over Louis’ cheek. 

Louis is very content to lie here for however long Harry wants. Just because they can and because no one knows yet. Once they go downstairs, this won't be just theirs anymore. Their friends will have a field day with this new development, and they'll brave it, but they deserve a few more minutes of bliss. 

“I’m not usually good with change,” Louis says, smiling. “This one, though…” 

“You’re really mine?” Harry asks, hugging Louis even tighter. 

“Yours,” Louis confirms, an idea forming in his head. “Let me show you how much,” he grins cheekily, pushing himself up, pushing Harry’s knees further apart and crawling between his legs. 

“Fuck…” Harry groans in pure anticipation of what Louis might do. 

He sits up, cradles Louis' face with his big hands, and kisses him. It's slow and deep, and in contrast to the mood of the room. Louis feels the kiss deep in his stomach where butterflies suddenly take flight. This might be new, but nothing has ever felt like this. This just feels so right.  Louis tries to pull back, but Harry chases it, wanting to keep the contact. He is greedy like he always is, when he decides something’s a favourite thing… like biting, or just Louis in general.

Louis laughs into his mouth and pushes him gently back onto the pillows. “Fancy a little blowie before we face the wolves, yeah?”

Harry’s breathless laugh cuts off halfway into a moan. That’s all the encouragement Louis needs.

❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃  ❃

By the time they’re showered and dressed, Harry in some soft, short yellow shorts and one of Louis’ hoodies, with Louis in joggers and a frayed tee, the kitchen is alive. Pots clatter below, and someone is either laughing or crying with laughter. 

“You absolute menace,” they hear Cherry laugh as they descend the stairs slowly. 

They share a look, and Harry reaches for Louis’ hand as they reach the bottom of the stairs. Louis rolls his eyes on principle, but he doesn’t let go.

“Do we…?” Harry asks, glancing down at their fingers. 

Louis watches where their hands slot together like puzzle pieces. He smiles, squeezing Harry’s hand. “We do,” he nods affirmatively. 

They're about to step into the open room and join the chaos when Niall's voice booms through the house, making them stop in their place. 

“LEFT CHEEK! NO… NO! OTHER LEFT! YES, ZAYN, THAT’S THE ANGLE RIGHT THERE.”

Then they both hear the shutter sound of someone, probably Niall, taking a photo.

Harry bites his lip. “What the fuck? God help us,” he groans. 

“If it’s Zayn and Niall, we're all in trouble," Louis grins, pulling him along as he steps into the lively kitchen space.

The kitchen looks like a battlefield. There's no other way to describe it. Every worktop is occupied by a mess unlike anything Louis has seen since the last time he tried to cook for all of them. Bowls, chopping boards, a mixing spoon stuck upright in some batter. There's a plate of fruit, and a literal tower built of toast. Lottie and Amelia are at the kitchen island with mugs in hand, providing commentary while Bella and Jess are plating pancakes and haphazardly dropping fruit and syrup on them.

At the stove, Zayn is wearing nothing but an apron, as dictated by the Truth or Dare rules.  

Louis blinks, trying to take in the sight. The apron Zayn is wearing is tied scandalously high behind him, and Niall has clearly ensured that there is cheek on display. Naturally, Zayn is taking it like a champ, committed to the dare. He's flipping bacon like a pro, and he's the first to spot them when he glances over his shoulder. His gaze initially finds their faces, then lowers, fixating on their joined hands and he smirks, turning back to the stove.

"Morning, lovebirds," he says breezily, knowing full well that the kitchen will explode with reactions now that he's directed their attention to Louis and Harry. 

Conversations in the room go silent. Every pair of eyes, except Zayn's, drops to where Louis and Harry's hands are linked. The only sound in the room is the bacon sizzling in the pan.

Then the room erupts. 

"Fucking finally," Liam exclaims ecstatically, slamming a spatula on the counter for emphasis.

“About damn time!” Jess sighs, throwing her head back in relief.

Ed actually stands and claps while Cherry wolf whistles like she’s hailing a taxi. 

Niall hoots, before he starts running around in a circle through the dining area and kitchen, finishing up by swinging past the stove to apply a jubilant slap to Zayn's right arse cheek. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! PAY UP, MALIK,” he yells triumphantly.

Zayn doesn’t even flinch, or turn from the stove. “Thank fuck. Now maybe Harry can stop mauling Louis like a feral cat.”

“Or maybe he will just do it even more now that he’s allowed,” Louis grins, leaning into Harry’s side.

Harry smirks at him. “And Louis discovered that he really enjoys it during s—”

“No!” Lottie yelps. “Nope. Damnit Haz. Sister present, SISTER!”

Harry laughs, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “Sorry, Lotts.”

“Besides, he’s more like a golden retriever than a feral cat,” Louis argues. 

“Retrievers don’t bite,” Liam points out. 

“They do when they love something,” Harry adds, smiling sweetly at Louis.

There's a chorus of groans and a few theatrical awws. Lottie presses a hand to her heart, actually looking teary. 

“You two are insufferable,” Amelia declares, but she’s grinning so wide it’s obvious she’s teasing them. 

“Very on brand for them,” Lewis says, walking up beside Lottie and pulling her in for a side hug, joining in on the teasing. 

They go around hugging their friends. Everybody is happy for them. Niall kisses both of their cheeks, but he lingers with Harry, whispering something only to him. Louis doesn’t know what is said, but it brings out the softest smile from Harry, before he wraps both arms around Niall, squeezing him tight. 

“Right,” Lottie says, breaking up the hug, and looking every bit the embodiment of a team leader. She probably is, Louis reasons. He definitely wouldn’t mess with her. “Hands,” she demands.

Louis blinks. “Excuse you?”

“Hands,” she repeats, already moving around the kitchen island, phone raised. “Not your faces. Just your hands, in the picture. I’m sending it to the family chat. Come on,” she says, guiding them to the dining table.

“Absolutely not,” Louis says automatically. 

“Why not?” Harry asks, his head instantly snapping around to look at Louis, every bit the traitor Louis suspected him to be. 

Louis glares at him. Lottie smiles as if she's already won, looking way too smug for this early on a Sunday. She plants their joined hands on the wooden dining table and angles them so the light catches the little crook where their thumbs meet. She snaps three photos faster than Louis can invent an excuse or a reason for her to stop.

“Lottie,” he warns. 

“Relax, big brother,” she says, thumbs flying as she types on her phone.

Lottie: Morning from the lakehouse. Everyone, say hi to our new favourite couple.

She reads the caption out loud to them as they feel their phones vibrate with the incoming message. 

“Mum is going to faint,” Louis mutters. 

“No, mum is going to be ecstatic,” Lottie counters. “And Anne is going to cry.”

As if conjured, Lottie’s phone pings repeatedly, and she reads the reactions out as soon as they come in.

Jay: I KNEW IT! I LOVE LOVE 😭♥️
Anne: My boys. I’m so happy and so proud. Be good to each other. Have fun!
Gemma: FINALLY! Tell Haz I expect a full report on why it took this long and how it finally happened. 

“There’s no fucking way she’s getting that, right?” Louis asks, thinking there’s no way.

Harry just shrugs. “I tell Gemma most things, actually.”

Louis stares at him wide-eyed, and he is about to argue with Harry when Lottie shushes him. 

"One more from Gem," Lottie says, throwing her head back laughing. "Oh, Lou…"

Gemma: And Lou. I love you, but if you break my brother's heart, I will murder you slowly and in the most painful way I can think of.

This message doesn’t scare him half as much as the first one. This is the Gemma he knows, loves and can banter with.

“Tell her I’ll brainstorm painful deaths with her if I ever break Harry’s heart,” Louis says warmly, leaning in to kiss Harry’s cheek. 

Harry's hand comes up and keeps Louis from pulling back. Harry turns his head, kissing him, building it up slowly until Louis feels Harry's tongue requesting access. He's about to grant it when Lottie shoves them hard enough for them to stumble.

“Ew. Sister and future sister-in-law right in front of you,” she says, nose wrinkling. 

Her phone pings again with more reactions. “Here we go,” she beams, smiling at her phone.

Fizzy: Called it when I was fifteen. 
Robin: Well done, boys. A drink on me when you’re back.”

“Family chat has spoken,” Lottie grins, putting her phone down. 

Louis presses a palm over his eyes, laughing helplessly. “I hate all of you.”

“You love all of us,” Cherry sings. “Now sit down, boys. Eat. Zayn’s bare bum is a health code violation, but breakfast does smell divine.”

"Oi," Zayn protests. "Eyes on the food, not the bum."

"They're on both, trust us," Niall says, laughing as he taps Zayn's exposed bum with a wooden spoon. Louis dares not ask why he has a wooden spoon in his hand. 

It's Liam that swats him away this time, grumbling something about leaving his man's arse alone, and Amelia nearly drops her mug from laughing. 

The plates Bella and Jess prepared get passed around. Bacon and eggs follow, and Harry decides they need celebratory mimosas, so he goes to Anne and Robin's not-so-secret stash and grabs a bottle of champagne. It's the sort of chaotic, loud breakfast that would give most people hives. Louis would bottle it if he could. 

Harry sits close enough that their knees bump under the table. Every so often, Harry leans over and tugs a stray strand of hair away from his field of vision. It's irritatingly affectionate, but Louis still lets him. He is, unfortunately, completely besotted with his best friend turned boyfriend. 

“Right,” Liam says around a mouthful of toast, “ground rules need to be put in place.”

“Ground rules?” Louis echoes questioningly.

“For the new couple,” Liam replies, gesturing to them with his toast triangle. “No biting at the table unless it's actual food.”

Harry raises a hand, looking at it as a negotiation instead of just accepting Liam's rules. "Counter offer. Limited biting if it's celebratory."

"Denied," Zays roars, not leaving it as an option at all.

“Second rule,” Cherry cuts in. “If you’re going to be disgustingly adorable and continue to share a blanket on movie nights, there will be NO hanky panky under said blanket.”

“Third,” Jess says. “Someone must capture a candid of Zayn in that apron from the back. It could come in handy.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Niall smirks, which earns him a piece of toast to the head, as Zayn throws it to the delight of everyone else.

“Fucking hell, Nialler,” Zayn groans. “I now declare this dare fulfilled. Excuse me while I go put some pants on, before Niall has enough photos to open an exhibition of them.”

As Zayn retreats, Ed clears his throat. “Fourth,” he says kindly. “We’re proud of you both. That’s not a rule, just a fact.”

Harry’s eyes get a little glassy after that. Louis presses their ankles together under the table. 

They stay seated for second and third servings, the domestic hum of the lake house wraps a warm blanket around all of them. When everyone reluctantly gets up to do the dishes and start packing, Louis and Harry stay put, heads leaning against each other. They don't notice Lottie lingering as well until she speaks. 

“You two okay?” she asks softly, quiet enough that it’s just for them. 

Louis glances at Harry. "Yeah," he says honestly. "Scared as shit last night. Less scared now."

Lottie smiles as Harry pulls away long enough to kiss his temple. 

Harry sits up, but puts his arm around Louis’ shoulder instead. “I was brave for once,” he says, like he’s confessing something. 

Huh, maybe he is, because Lottie smiles at him proudly. 

“You were,” Louis confirms, warmth spreading out from his heart to every cell of his body. “I’m proud of you.”

Lottie’s eyes go shiny. “You’re disgusting. Utterly disgusting,” she teases, as she stands and moves to their side of the table. She kisses the top of Harry’s head first and then Louis’ before she retrieves the hoover to start cleaning the place up before they all go back home. 

Clean-up is in full swing all around them, but it's like they're glued to their seats. No one is heckling them to join. Instead, Niall comes over with two cups of coffee, giving both of their shoulders a squeeze before he goes back to stripping all the beds of their bedding. 

“I thought facing everyone would be harder,” Louis admits suddenly. “It wasn’t.”

Harry bumps their shoulders. “Probably because the hard bit was you and me figuring out how to stop being idiots.”

Louis huffs out a laugh. “Speak for yourself.”

Harry smirks devilishly. “I am. You were a separate category of idiot entirely.”

Louis lets his head fall forward with laughter, squeezing Harry’s thigh under the table. “Rude,” he smiles. “At least I’m not the one who bites their partner in this relationship.”

Harry smiles at his choice of words. “Partner,” he repeats, nearly glowing. “Do I have to remind you how needy my biting made you last night?” 

“You can try it again later when everyone else has gone home if you like,” Louis suggests, already feeling the clench in his lower abdomen simply from Harry mentioning it. 

“Oh?” Harry grins, leaning in to bite gently on Louis’ earlobe. 

“Yeah,” Louis moans, more than ready for them to be alone. 

“Noted,” Harry sighs happily.

Louis can’t ever remember seeing Harry this happy. And he’s the one responsible for it. They’ve wasted years, but there’s no use in dwelling on that now. 

They're quiet for a bit. After a beat, Louis asks the thing that keeps catching the corner of his mind. "Are you alright with… all of it?"

"All of it?" Harry asks, seemingly lost in thought as well. 

“Being public? The family chat? The endless ‘finally’s?”

“I’m ecstatic, honestly. I'm ready for it,” Harry says simply.

“Me too,” Louis smiles fondly, pleased that Harry feels the same. 

He leans in to kiss the corner of Louis’ mouth, and then he does it again for good luck. 

They sit a little longer, just because. Louis thinks of the years spent circling the same truth, wondering how long they’ve both wanted this development, but refusing to call it by its name. He squeezes Harry’s hand once, brief and firm. 

Harry squeezes back, thumb brushing the inside of Louis' wrist, exactly where he has bitten Louis countless times over the years. It's like it dawns on Harry as well, so he brings Louis’ wrist up to his mouth and does it once again. This time it's more loaded and full of promises of what's to come. The actual bite is gentle, barely leaving any marks. 

“Oi, stop it, Vampie,” Zayn barks. 

Louis cackles. "Vampie? That's a fucking brilliant pet name."

Harry glares at him. “Don’t you dare.” Then he hollers at Zayn. “Shut up! My house, my boyfriend. I’ll bite him when and how I want. You’re free to leave.”

It’s banter. No one is taking it seriously. They do shut up, though. 

"Ready?" Louis asks, meaning for private trips to the lake house, lazy morning fucks, couple vacations, the everyday life hustle, board games and showing up for each other for the rest of time. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, smiling. He's ready for all of it.

Chapter Text

Louis, age 28 & Harry, age 26
Harry’s POV

(late summer, about a year later)

The lake house is quiet. Peaceful. Harry exhales deeply, and it feels like the house does too. There’s no chatter ricocheting off the walls, Niall's not narrating the weekend like a sports commentator and the constant hum of the busy house is long gone. 

Louis has sent him outside with a glass of white wine to relax, so he's sitting by the fire pit with a blanket over his knees, the lake in the background, watching the first flames catch. It took him a few tries to build it correctly because he kept zoning out, thinking about different highlights from the weekend. 

It's been a busy couple of days. Harry micro-managed the entire weekend like usual, and now he feels knackered. Louis knows this, and that's why he's now in the kitchen preparing… something, assuring Harry he'll take care of their fire side snack. Harry chuckles waiting for Louis to come out with whatever he’s fussing over in the kitchen.

Louis has evolved his skills in the kitchen over the last year, but leaving him alone in there is still… Well, there are a lot of unknowns when he doesn't have Harry instructing him on what to do next. 

He could get used to this though. Hell, he has gotten used to someone spoiling him. Being someone's top priority. It's been a year of being allowed to love Louis out loud, and he'll never get used to the fact that he has that privilege now. 

Their friends all left a few hours ago around noon, after their yearly weekend together at the lake house. It was the same as every other year, except for one or two minor differences, because how can anything be exactly the same after the changes of the past year? The most important/significant change, in Harry's opinion at least, was the change in their relationship status. It was the first year Louis and Harry had spent together here, as a couple. 

Amongst the other changes, Anne and Robin bought a jacuzzi for the porch, and installed an outdoor pizza oven, both of which turned out to be very popular with their friends.  There were some new rules, like how any mention of "Wonderwall" means instant exile to the shed. Niall almost ended up there twice, and that whoever lost at Monopoly was required to cook breakfast in nothing but an apron on their last morning. Zayn took great delight that it was Niall's turn this year, Zayn brandishing both his phone for extortion photos, and the wooden spoon.

Their friends also implemented additional rules specifically for Harry and Louis because they were behaving as if they were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. The first night had them all witnesses to some biting, sexual banter, dry humping and eventually two lily-white, naked arses running towards the secluded part of the lake they enjoyed together last year.

Firstly, they weren't allowed to get naked within view of the other house guests. That was non-negotiable. Secondly, all PDA's were to be kept strictly PG, and lastly, they had to keep the public eye-fucking to a minimum. 

Zayn wanted to veto the eye-fucking completely, but others reasoned that without at least some eye-fucking allowed, the two love birds would likely end up sharing some x-rated PDA's at some point as a form of foreplay. For everyone's sake, he relented.

And yet, with so much being different, it was also exactly the same. They were still them. Harry feels exceedingly grateful that he has somehow ended up with a group of friends as tight-knit as they are.

Harry’s thoughts are drawn back to his boyfriend - he remembers the first time he ever saw him. How he shone so bright in that school yard. He remembers biting him without thinking, because his body has always known what his brain needed almost two decades to admit: Louis is his safe place, his person. His home.

Harry reminisces about their childhood and shared sleepovers growing up. Blanket forts, sunny afternoons running through the garden where nothing bothered them, riding their bikes to the local park or to buy ice creams. Family dinners and bowling nights. Louis' soft admission in the glow of fairy lights, that he liked boys and not girls and all the whispered truths in the dark, as teenagers, that bonded them so tightly together. 

Caught wandering down memory lane, his mind turns to the uni years. It felt like gravity had finally started pulling them both in when they were finally together again. That first night. The way they fumbled. How giddy they were and how messy it was. How not ready they were. They had put the lid back on that box so fast and called it caution. Maybe it was? Perhaps they were just cowards. 

And then, finally, last year. The way everything finally aligned. With a string of failed relationships behind them, it was a simple world-altering truth or dare game that finally ignited their fire and allowed them to see the connection they always had, for what it really was. 

Harry sighs as he remembers their talk, both at and in the lake. The way Louis had said “Of course I'm in love with you, you idiot.” Harry tucks those words, and how he looked saying them, into his pocket every morning, counting his lucky stars. 

The porch door nudges open, and Louis comes out, balancing a wine glass and a wine bottle in one hand, and something on a chipped plate in the other. 

He’s in flip-flops, shorts and a green hoodie. The hoodie is Harry’s favourite on him as it goes so well with his skin tone. It’s also one of Harry’s favourites to borrow. 

“Alright, Bambi?” Louis calls softly, making his way down to the fire pit. 

"Always," Harry answers, and on nights like these, he feels extra grateful for the wild turn his world took a year ago.

“I brought bribes,” Louis announces, smiling. “The bottle to fill your glass and… don’t laugh… some fresh focaccia. Amelia helped me make the dough before she left, but I fear I might have fucked it up still.”

"Let me see," Harry says gently. Louis hands him a square that is not actually a square. He takes a bite. Louis sprinkled too much salt on it and too little rosemary to Harry's liking, but it's perfect because Louis made it for him.

“It’s great,” Harry declares, mouth full.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Harry grins. “It’s… aggressively rustic?” Harry compromises, happy with himself when Louis kisses his cheek in response. 

Louis settles next to him, their shoulders touching. The fire pops, and they're quiet for a moment, sipping their wine.

“Feels weird to be here now, without the horde,” Louis says eventually, tilting his wine glass to watch the fire through the clear glass. It makes Harry smile.

"Peaceful weird," Harry offers. "Like you, me, and the house could all use a nap."

“I also love when it’s just us here,” Louis mumbles, stifling a yawn.

Just us. Those two words make all the difference to Harry's life these days. He twists the stem of his wine glass between his fingers before he puts it down. He brings his now-free hand to run through Louis' hair. He purrs like a needy little cat, even if he'll never admit it. 

“Been thinking,” Harry says. “I expected this to be… harder.”

“What? Us?” Louis asks, still focused on his wine glass and the fire.

The pronoun still makes Harry feel like he got both the prince and the kingdom, like in any modern fairytale. 

He nods. “Not loving you. That part is easy, always has been. But I mean the… logistics, of changing a thing that worked on paper, and then writing a new chapter and putting it out there for the entire world to read.”

“Are you including smut in this chapter? I hear it’s all the rage these days,” Louis jokes.

"Only if you'll narrate the audiobook?" Harry shoots back, trying to keep up with their banter. 

"Well, shit. I just feel like your deep, raspy voice would read our kinky smut way better," he argues, a wicked smile making his eyes shine with mirth. 

“Kinky, huh?” Harry grins.

Louis doesn't reply at first. Instead, he just nods toward the jacuzzi. "Remember?"

Harry blushes because he does remember. "You looking for a re-match?" he flirts.

“I was thinking we could write another chapter about how life just continues to get better, same with the sex, the more we blend together,” Louis says, standing and holding out a hand, encouraging Harry to follow him.

That has to be the most poetic thing Louis has ever said to him. “We do blend beautifully,” Harry sighs, leaning forward to plant a kiss on top of the hoodie between his boyfriend's shoulder blades.

Louis removes the cover for the jacuzzi, and they're quick to strip down and get in. They sit down on one of the benches in the jacuzzi, Louis leaning against the side and hooking his legs over Harry's thighs. 

"Do you ever think about… future stuff?" Harry asks awkwardly. The words have been circling in his head for a while, and he's relieved that he finally manages to get the words out.

“Like what?” Louis asks casually, finally lifting his eyes to look at him. 

Harry draws in a deep breath before speaking again. “Like, a lake house that’s ours? Or an apartment… or house to share where we can make Sunday lunch for everyone?” He smiles at the last part, even if what he’s suggesting is a huge step. “More of us and of this,” he continues, leaving it very open for Louis to interpret.

He can see the emotion on Louis' face, who stays quiet for a bit, even taking a sip of wine as he lets Harry's words linger. "More of this sounds perfect," he finally says, looking straight at Harry. "More of everything with you, honestly. More morning breath kisses and more stupid arguments about coriander. I'll even do a lifetime of more picking up your discarded clothes and putting them in the hamper,” he jokes.

Harry laughs. “Then I’ll do a lifetime of picking up the wet towels you leave on the bed. I’ll even try to do it happily,” Harry counters. 

“I do not—”

“You do,” Harry declares, taking on the roles of both judge and jury. “It’s okay. I’ll just implement biting as punishment.”

Louis grins wickedly. "Threaten me with a good time, why don't you?" He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly. "I do like a good bite mark, even when I've done nothing wrong."

Harry rolls his eyes affectionately. That is one of his favourite things that changed when they became a couple. The biting hasn't stopped. Harry still bites him when he wants Louis' attention or when he needs grounding in any type of situation. That's the same as it has always been, except Louis never gets frustrated with him for it anymore. 

A new and infinitely more charged type of biting has seen the light of day, though. Ever since their first time together, when Louis discovered he especially liked being bitten during intimate moments, they've experimented with it, testing their boundaries. Harry is leaving bite marks in many varied and interesting places around Louis' body these days, and Louis wears them proudly.

To have the quirkiest thing about him made normal has been so good for his self-esteem. Louis never made him feel like a weirdo for it, but the circumstances around Harry biting him used to lead to awkward situations, and nowadays they don't. It has always been a constant in their lives. Louis has always let him be authentically himself. 

Just thinking about it is making him emotional.  

“Hey,” he says softly. “Let’s do that thing?”

Louis smiles at him, but raises an eyebrow. “Vague, but go on.”

"The thing where I say something, only for you to call me ridiculous and prove me wrong or right," Harry prompts, a dimple making its appearance when he smiles through a lip-bite.

Louis huffs out a laugh but nods.

“I still can’t believe you chose me,” Harry says, not for the first time. 

He not-so-secretly likes to hear Louis' answer, especially when he thinks of new reasons. It always melts his heart, and he's found it often doubles as something good for his soul and as foreplay. Louis' answers, when he gets creative, frequently lead to something more, and objectively speaking, it would be a shame to waste a perfect late summer evening at the lake house and not take advantage of the jacuzzi and the quiet night.

"Christ," Louis mutters. "Here we go again."

“I am serious, though,” Harry presses on, softly. “Some days I still wake up and check that it stuck. That you didn’t… I don’t know? Change your mind or something. That you didn’t suddenly realise that I’m boring on Wednesdays or annoying on Mondays. That I’m too handsy and I burn the risotto half the time.”

“Half?” Louis questions, grinning. “Bold claim.”

Harry squeezes Louis’ shins, still placed in his lap in the warm water. “You know what I mean.”

Louis goes quiet. Then he sets his wine glass down, draws his legs back and straddles Harry instead. It's intimate, but not sexual. Louis is making sure he's got Harry's full attention. Harry notices how his eyes settle, and he gets that look on his face that he always gets when he's putting Harry at ease. The look he's had since he was 10, when he decided that Harry was his problem to look after.

“Haz,” he says simply. “That’s ridiculous. I have always chosen you. You know that.”

Harry opens his mouth, but Louis barrels on, shutting down Harry’s argument before he has a chance to say it.

“Even when I thought I wasn’t, I was. Even when I tried to be good and reasonable and normal.” He does air-quotes around it. “I still chose you every time our friendship got in the way of my relationships. I’ve been choosing you since the school yard when you told me off for casting a shadow over a fucking flower, alright?”

"It was photosynthesis, Lou," Harry says automatically, trying to keep Louis on his toes at all times.

Louis grins. “And the flower thanks you to this day.” 

But, oh. Shit. That might be Harry’s favourite answer ever. 

“I’ve been choosing you since the day we met, Vampie,” Louis continues, using the nickname referring to Harry's vampire tendencies. Harry instantly grumbles at the pet name. Louis isn’t fazed. “And I’ll keep choosing you, on purpose. Every time.”

“Okay,” Harry breathes. “Alright.” 

They let it settle. Harry allows for Louis' words to wrap him in another layer of protectiveness and love. Louis must see the effect his words have on Harry, because he cradles Harry's face in his hands and tilts his head just right to kiss him. Harry, on his end, settles his hands on Louis' lower back to guide him close enough for Louis to feel the effects of his words. They both groan when they make contact. 

When Harry leans in and presses his mouth to the curve where his neck meets his shoulder, the place he has always claimed, all bets are off. 

Louis shivers like he always does. “Haz…” he says, a warning and a welcome in one word. 

“Mmmm,” Harry murmurs against his skin.

“Don’t leave a mark,” he tries.

“Liar,” Harry mumbles and closes his teeth to Louis’ skin. Gentle? Always… well, almost. It’s a bite to honour every bite before this one and a promise for every single bite to come. 

When Harry lifts his head, Louis is smiling in that dopey, dangerous way Harry has spent nearly twenty years trying not to drown in. These days, he drowns happily. 

Louis hooks a hand behind his neck and pulls him back in for another kiss. “Some things never change,” he mutters against Harry’s lips.

Harry thinks about it for a few seconds before he agrees. "Yeah. The best things never do." he says, and means it.