No One Does It Better

Chapter 20

It's half past midnight, and Harry's about ready to pull his hair out.

He's sat alone on his couch in his empty flat with two empty mugs on his coffee table. He has two fingers pressed to his right temple, just above where his phone rests at his ear. His mother's voice comes through tinny but clear, "Harry, do you really think you can keep this up?"

He decided to call her back after Liam and Zayn had swung by to pick Louis up on their way back to the complex. He'd walked Louis to the door, pushed him against the wall beside it, and kept his hand hot on the smaller lad's bare hip as he kissed his lips raw. Louis left in a breathless haze of lust and elation, completely forgetting to grab his own clothes on the way out.

"No," Harry whispers. "I don't know."

His mum sighs, "Baby, I know - you want him back, but he's not yours. Not anymore." Harry closes his eyes so tightly that white spots dance behind his lids, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he breathes out shakily. "What are you going to tell him when he does find out? Because he will, Harry. Whether someone tells him, or, by some miracle, something trips his memory, he will find out you've lied to him."

"I don't know," He says again. "I don't know, mum. I-It's so selfish. I know. I just - need him," and there it is.

"I know, baby," Anne's voice drops to a soft whisper, "I know, but you love him, and you need to think about what's best for him. I'm not saying you shouldn't see him; I'm just asking you to be careful. I worry about you. A lot. And I can't, can't-" she's cut off as her breath hitches, a weak sound falling from her mouth to bounce around the insides of Harry's skull. A tear slips from the corner of his eye.

"I love you," he says, is all he can offer.

Anne just cries.

---

It's funny, Harry thinks, how hours turn into days, and how those days build weeks and nothing ever stops. It's been two weeks since that first date with Louis, and, since then, it's been a blur of white smiles and tan skin and blue eyes, warm tea and soft blankets and even softer lips. They go on four more, less catastrophic, dates properly, and spend most other days in each other's company anyway.

It's a Wednesday when Louis asks Harry to be his boyfriend, to be his only, says he knows it may be too soon, that he doesn't care, and Harry's only response is to bite his lip on a smile and nod. Louis' eyes light up and he kisses Harry fiercely, possessively, and, God, Harry's missed that kiss. So he lets himself indulge in it, swallows down all the words of 'only yours, was only ever yours.' Louis' mouth tastes like cinnamon and sunshine and lingers on Harry's tongue long after he's gone.

Later that night, Zayn and Liam are over after Louis' gone to work. Zayn claps Harry on the back, "I'm happy for you, mate. That didn't take long." He's full of smiles and genuine kindness, and Harry feeds off it like he's starved, just wants to know he's doing the right thing, knows he isn't.

Liam just tugs one corner of his lips up, thankfully not voicing all the things he wants to say, knows it isn't the time. He keeps one hand placed on Zayn's thigh, more for his own comfort than anything, squeezes when he has to bite his tongue. Zayn just throws his arm around his boyfriend, plays absentmindedly with the hem on the arm of his white t-shirt, and gives Harry his attention.

They leave not long after, and Liam hasn't said a word, but he hugs Harry tightly in a way that says enough.

---

Over the nearly three weeks since their first date, Louis had spent more and more time at the flat. He even has his own drawer in Harry's dresser and a spare key on his key-ring. More times than not, he'll just come back to Harry's after work "since it's closer and all," and Harry doesn't mind.