sorry this took so long, i had finals and then accidentally clicked on a dream smp video on youtube, and now I'm emotionally attached to a homeless green tellytubby who traumatizes children. i don't even like minecraft but roleplay brain go brr.
²⁸ ⃤
someone told me, "stay away from things that aren't yours,"
but was he yours if he wanted me so bad?
pacify her
she's getting on my nerves
you don't love her
- pacify her, melanie martinez
²⁸ ⃤
‘Haylor’ was the biggest load of bullshit Louis had ever seen. He almost tweeted it too, but he was already in deep shit with his management and didn’t need more reprimands. As fun as it was seeing how grey Simon Cowell’s hair turned every time he talked to Louis, he wasn’t sure it was worth how shitty he felt after every meeting.
This entire ‘Haylor’ thing wouldn’t even bother Louis as much as it did if it wasn’t shoved in his face every ten seconds.
It first began when they were at an awards show for something or other - they all blended into each other after some time - and were being interviewed after winning yet another award. Louis was high off the kind of euphoria you could only get from beating a bunch of wildly talented musicians with a song about sex (although to be fair, most of their songs were about the Devil’s Tango, for some reason). Louis had been messing with Liam, pinching him and poking his sides with the award while the other boys were at least attempting to answer the nice interviewer's questions. And by “other boys”, he meant Niall. Zayn had disappeared with Perrie Edwards somewhere and Louis lost track of Harry after his third glass of champagne in under five minutes.
The interviewer turned to Louis after some time and shoved the microphone into his face. “And do you boys have anyone catching your eye, tonight? We already know Harry is getting cozy with Taylor Swift-” She cut herself off with a laugh and Louis frowned.
He should have said something about his girlfriend Eleanor, the same speech he always gave when he had to explain why his “wonderful girlfriend of - wow, two years now, isn’t that amazing?” wasn’t there, but what came out of his mouth instead was a dumb, “What?”
“Well, we’ve seen Haylor out and about since July, and we’re just waiting for them to make it official,” the interviewer explained, not actually explaining anything. “How do you feel about them being dubbed the hottest couple of 2013 already?”
Maybe it was all the champagne, or maybe it was (Maybelline) the heat sticking to his skin, but Louis felt something strange twisting in his throat. “What the fuck is a Haylor?” He demanded around the lump.
The perpetual smile on her face slipped a little. “Taylor Swift and Harry Styles? That’s their couple name-”
“They’re not a couple, though,” Louis interrupted. His brain was whirring, all the cogs chafing against each other like the beginnings of a bruise. He was sure Harry wasn’t seeing anyone. It was just another dumb rumor the internet made up because they were bored and had nothing better to do. He opened his mouth to say just that, upset that Harry’s stupid ‘womanizer’ image was still a popular topic of interest, but Liam tugged at his arm harshly.
Liam laughed tightly. “Louis had a bit too much to drink, I think.” He took control of the situation enough to lead the interviewer into a different conversation about the writing process for their third album. Niall then pulled Louis away because he thought he saw Lady Gaga (because they were apparently famous enough to just go up to Lady Gaga and say hi, holy shit), distracting him into forgetting about the weird conversation.
Louis forgot about Haylor up until the next time they decided to bring it up, which was during a Live Lounge performance. One Direction had a brief interview before they were to sing a few covers and “What Makes You Beautiful”, but Louis couldn’t concentrate at all. The interviewer had dropped a few sly comments about Taylor Swift and what the lads (and by “lads”, Louis meant Harry) thought about her. Harry had ducked his head and said something vague, the way he always did, but everyone could see his small smile. And that bothered Louis. A lot. Enough that during their performance, he couldn’t stop staring at Harry, wondering if the curly-haired boy thought of a particular someone with blue eyes while he sang.
Twitter was going to have a fun time dissecting that clip when it dropped.
It bothered Louis enough that after their session was finished, he cornered Harry in a relatively empty hallway and demanded to know what that was about.
“What was what?” Harry had asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“That - that smile! When you were talking about Taylor!”
Harry tilted his head to the side, a lock of his forever-growing hair falling into his face. He was slowly losing his cherubic appearance, his jaw sharp and lips dangerous. Tempting, Harry looked so tempting like that. “What are you talking about? I wasn’t smiling.”
Louis must have been going insane. Clearly, this was the only explanation for why he was the only one bothered by this. The lump in his throat was growing with every second passing. “Do you actually, like, fancy her?”
Harry studied him, his green eyes more vibrant than usual. Louis didn’t know when Harry started maturing, but it was moments like these when he looked at Louis a particular way that made his chest clench with a feeling he didn’t understand. He didn’t want to try and piece together what it all meant, why it felt different this time. He didn’t have enough time for that.
“I think she’s a nice person,” he finally answered, pretty much repeating what he had said earlier.
And what was Louis supposed to do with that?
Suddenly, like a volcano had erupted, Louis couldn’t go an entire day without hearing someone mention Haylor. The other boys thought it was hilarious how tense Louis got when someone brought up Taylor Swift in conversation, how he would automatically turn his head to look at Harry in case he - what? Decided to confess his undying love for her? Harry had never shown any inclinations of liking Taylor Swift, no matter what a bunch of gossip sites continued reporting. Harry wasn’t into anyone, not really. He hadn’t been into anyone for a long time now, so everyone who thought Taylor and Harry were the next Brangelina because they stood next to each other at an awards show for two seconds or whatever could fuck right off.
It was just annoying how everyone seemed to care about it. Interviewers, gossip sites, even fucking Twitter couldn’t decide whether they liked Haylor or not. And if it bothered Louis this much, then it must bother Harry even more, right? No matter how nice and patient Harry was, he had to go apeshit sometime, right? It would only make sense that he would explode over all these annoying accusations, right?
Right?
Well, apparently no.
Because of course Harry had to ruin it by being seen out with Taylor Swift, walking around Downtown LA when they were in town to record their bits for “Midnight Memories”. They also had meetings to go to, music video plans to finalize, and all the boys were exhausted by the end of it. Louis thought Harry had gone to his L.A. house (because they were rich enough to have more than one house, holy shit) to relax for a bit, aware that he might need some space from everyone after spending so much time in each other's pockets. But no. Nooooo. Because, according to The Sun (who had somehow became the most reliable source on Haylor, what the fuck?), Taylor had surprised Harry with a tour around sunny California as if they were a pair of tourists, not two megastars with more money in their bank accounts combined than sheep in New Zealand. Louis’ chest burned when he saw the pictures surfacing: Harry’s curls peeking out of his hat, Taylor’s bright red lips turned up in a wry smile, their hands clasped together as they walked around, like they were some fucking couple. He would’ve scoffed at the meltdown Twitter was having if it wasn’t for the weight slowly squeezing the air out of Louis’ lungs. He hated seeing them together. It wasn’t like with Ethan, or Caroline, or the other boys and girls (well, older women) Harry used to fling around with, and he couldn’t understand why. It was so much worse this time.
The worst part was Harry wouldn’t even say anything about it. He didn’t slip out that he was going to be hanging out with Taylor Swift, or that he would wear that stupid matching paper airplane necklace with her. (Louis had gifted Harry with plenty of jewlery before, that stupid necklace didn’t mean anything. What about that silver ring Louis had given Harry on Valentine’s Day, the one with the word “PEACE” engraved on it? It was only a coincidence that it happened on the most romantic day of the year, but he really wanted to get him a gift that showed how much Harry meant to Louis as a friend. He was appalled that no one gave that ring the same attention those paper necklaces were getting.) Harry just shrugged it off and said some bullshit about finding Taylor Swift a cool person to be around. If he had said something about Haylor being a PR tactic, then Louis would ultimately brush it off as another dumb Management thing. But he didn’t, and it bothered Louis. A lot.
Now, that being said, Louis didn’t actually hate Taylor Swift. She was talented and pretty and was clearly doing something right with her music career, considering how many hits she managed to write. He just - he didn’t like seeing Harry with her. Even if they were just friends, like Harry claimed every time Louis confronted him. Especially if they were more than.
Louis paced around the living room, his hands running through his hair like a mad scientist on the brink of discovery. His lungs felt too big for his body, pressing against his skin, threatening to burst every time he exhaled. Every time he closed his eyes, Louis could see the newest headline from The Sun pressed against his retinas.
“I’m not actually jealous of Taylor Swift,” he announced, doing his eighth loop around the small coffee table, where empty cans of energy drinks and Coke were strewn about, forgotten. Every time he stopped moving, his hands would start shaking, and he didn’t know how to get rid of all this excess energy, so continued moving and moving and moving.
Eleanor didn’t look up from her phone, reclined on her sofa lazily. “Nobody asked.”
“That would imply that she has something that I want,” Louis continued, rationalizing everything to an audience of no one. The words ran through his head like a train thundering down a railway track with no end, parallel to the music his soulmate was playing. He tried to ignore her; he didn’t have the mental energy to worry about two things at once. Not when he was like this. “I mean, I have better hair. And a bigger bum. What does she have that I don’t? Harry?” He laughed in disbelief. It sounded crazed, even to his own ears. Maybe all those energy drinks weren’t a good idea.
Oli, who had been sprawled on the floor in front of the telly, also scrolling on his phone, groaned. “Oh my God, shut up.”
Louis stepped over his best mate’s form. “She doesn’t have Harry. Why do people think she has him? Just because they were seen walking together, what, two times? Suddenly, they’re dating?” He let out a sharp laugh. “It’s like a guy and a girl can’t stand next to each other without people thinking they’re dating anymore.”
In a flash of impulsiveness, Louis yanked out his phone from his back pocket and opened up his latest texting thread with Harry. He stopped himself before he could ask again why he was hanging around with Taylor Swift. What was he doing? He was acting like a jealous lover when he most definitely wasn’t. He was just a concerned friend, and this entire Haylor thing was bullshit. He was allowed to be mad, because it was practically Harry’s fault, right? Harry knew what would happen if he was seen walking around Los Angeles with Taylor Swift, he should’ve been more careful. Or, like, not be around her at all. Even if Louis liked Taylor, that didn’t mean he trusted her. What if she was using him? Why was Louis so upset over this?
He groaned. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question all day,” Eleanor muttered, her fingers flying over her phone screen.
Louis turned to her. “You’re not being supportive at all. Why are you even here?”
That made Eleanor look up in disbelief. She waved one hand around the room. “This is my house, you’re the one that invited yourself over unplanned. You even brought your weird friend with you.”
“How am I the weird friend?” Oli mumbled. He was currently texting a girl he thought he had a chance with. Louis had seen pictures of her and knew that she was way out of Oli’s league. Like, she was the entirety of the Justice League and Oli was a random speck of dirt they stepped on. No offense or anything.
“Oh, yeah,” Louis realized. He stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “Well, why did you bring up Taylor Swift, then?”
Her frown deepened, her brown eyes shooting daggers at him. Louis dogged them gracefully. “I didn’t bring up anything, you were the one that started ranting about her! I just asked if you wanted a cuppa and you said-” She lowered her voice in a way that definitely did not sound like him. “- “Taylor Swift wouldn’t know how to make Harry a cuppa, she’s American”.”
Louis nodded slowly. “Oh, right. . . Could you actually make me a cuppa? I’m parched.”
Eleanor sighed, slipping her phone into the pocket of her jeans before lifting herself off the couch. “I’m not your bloody maid,” she said under her breath with displeasure, even as she headed towards the kitchen in her flat. It was small and homely, filled with warm colors and aesthetic pictures of flowers all over the wall. Louis didn’t spend much time at her flat, because that would imply he liked spending time with Eleanor, but he had to admit it had its charm. It almost reminded him of a cheaper version of his flat in Princess Park, except thinking about Princess Park made him think about Harry, and thinking about Harry set him off all over again.
A new song started playing in his head and Louis wanted to bang his head against a wall. He settled for dropping his face in his head and groaning loudly. “No, not again!”
“What is it this time?” Oli sighed. Louis really needed better, supportive friends.
“My fucking soulmate!” He exclaimed. Oli just gave him a deadpan look. “She’s been playing nothing but one of our song’s for a week straight now. A week!”
“She. . .?” Oli muttered.
Louis ignored him. “I wouldn’t even be that upset if she didn’t do it all day. It’s just “What Makes You Beautiful” on repeat, like a fucking broken record. If I wanted to hear those lyrics replayed over and over again, I would just go and talk to Harry.”
A pause. He could hear Liam crooning in his ears, the familiar chords to a song Louis had sang a billion times wrapping itself around his brain. For a second, it was like a guitar string had snapped.
Oli looked up with an incredulous expression. “What-?”
Louis’ face turned bright red. “I, uh, I mean - Harry’s been listening to a bunch of our songs lately. He likes to, um, play them whenever he exercises.”
“Then doesn’t that mean he’s your-”
Eleanor emerged from the kitchen with the cup of tea and just barely shoved it in Louis’ hands, her expression just as stormy as before. She flopped back on the couch while Louis passed the mug back and forth in his hands before his skin burned off. “Rude,” he muttered. “You’re an awful fake girlfriend.”
“You’re an awful fake boyfriend,” she snorted.
Louis lowered himself in an open armchair, his legs crossed as he sipped his tea. It was all right, not as good as Harry usually made it for him, but drinkable. It calmed him down a bit, but Louis couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest, the headline flashing in his head like neon lights. “I’m not actually jealous of Taylor Swift, am I?”
Oli sat up, his hair falling over his face messily. He needed a haircut. Louis needed a haircut. Why was he thinking about haircuts right now? “Why do you think you’re jealous of Taylor Swift?” He asked, voice tired. Okay, maybe Louis had been bothering Oli with this question since he first saw the article, but Oli was his best mate and he had to listen to Louis spout bullshit, even at four in the morning on a Thursday. Louis also messaged Zayn, Niall, his mum, Lottie for some reason, and the twenty-ninth person in his contacts (it might have been a delivery man) but Oli was the only one who replied. Granted, he replied with several middle finger emojis, but that's besides the point.
“The Sun dropped an article this morning,” Louis reluctantly admitted, his eyes trained on his tea. “About Haylor and whatever, and they said that I’ve been jealous about their relationship. Like, I’ve been being weird in interviews about them, you know?” He rolled his eyes. “It’s stupid, they don’t even have a relationship for me to be jealous of.”
Eleanor hummed a bit. “Well, you sound a little jealous.”
“I do not!” His voice cracked a little. How embarrassing.
“You ever notice that every time we’re together, you only want to talk about Harry?” Eleanor pointed out. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ears. “Last time, you spent an hour trying to find something to compare the color of his eyes with.”
“That’s because you’re not an interesting person to talk to,” he muttered. Eleanor tossed a pillow at him, causing what was left of his tea to spill on his jeans. “Oh - fuck! These are my good jeans!”
“They look like every other pair of jeans you buy,” she said, unimpressed. Sometimes, Louis wondered why he was still stuck with Eleanor. She had lost her novelty when, after a single conversation with her, Louis realized she was basically the female version of him, and not in a good way. Which was probably why Louis had decided to barge into her house after seeing the article pop up on his news feed, hoping she would provide - what? Comfort? No, something more akin to normalcy. He knew what to expect when he was with her.
Oli suddenly jerked his head up. “You know what you need?”
To get my dick sucked, he almost said. He wasn’t sure his fake girlfriend would’ve minded that joke, no matter how disinterested she was in him. “Weed?” He supplied instead.
“To go out clubbing,” Oli answered. “You’ve been, like, super stressed with the band and stuff, so why not go out tonight? Let loose, have some drinks, make some mistakes.”
Louis leaned back in the armchair, his fingernails tapping on the empty cup as he thought. He hadn’t been out just to have fun in a while. He never considered himself a heavy clubber before, more content in smaller, more intimate spaces, but he also hadn’t been too keen on tattoos and looked at how well that turned out for him. A little change couldn’t hurt.
Eleanor lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t it Thursday? Don’t you think that’s a bad idea?”
“There’s no such thing as a bad idea,” Oli argued. “Only good ideas executed badly.”
“What fortune cookie did you steal that quote from?”
“Actually, I stole it from Reddit.”
“Even worse.”
Louis ignored their bickering for a minute, letting the idea loll in his head. “I dunno how getting drunk will solve any of my problems.”
Oli shook his head. “We’re not trying to solve your problems. The only thing you’re good at is making your problems worse. What we’re going to do is ignore it.”
Eleanor gave Oli a look. “That’s a terrible idea-”
“That’s a great idea!” Louis exclaimed. He was very good at ignoring his problems, it was how he got this far in life. “You, me, and Eleanor are going clubbing tonight!”
“Who said I’m coming?” Eleanor demanded.
Louis snorted. “Please, it’s not like you have anything better to do. Watching reruns of Desperate Housewives while drinking wine does not count.”
Her face went through a series of complicated expressions that Louis didn't have the time nor the energy to decipher. She turned to Oli. “Stop enabling him, please. None of this will help him.”
“Okay, Mrs. Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology,” Louis muttered. “I’m so glad you decided to share your unasked opinion.”
The two of them ignored him. Rude. “It’s just one night,” Oli argued. “What’s the worst thing that can happen? He hasn’t been himself these past few, like, months, and someone has to stop him before he drives himself crazy with jealousy.”
“I’m not actually jealous,” Louis interrupted.
Oli didn’t even look at him. “I know you two can’t stand each other, but can you please pretend to care about him just for tonight? He's self-destructing.”
Louis frowned. “I’m not self-destructing, what? Just because I’m upset about one article doesn’t mean-”
Oli gave him a deadpan look. “When was the last time you talked to Stan?”
Louis didn’t respond.
“See, you just randomly stop talking to people when you’re upset about something, and sometimes you end up never talking to them again. And it’s always for the dumbest reason. Like that time in year 10 when your lab partner called you short, and you didn’t talk to him for the rest of the year. I don’t know how you managed to pass science class without him.” Oli’s voice didn’t soften, but he did sound less like a disappointed parent. When did Oli of all people turn into the responsible one of their friendship? “I just don’t want you to be alone ‘cause you pushed everyone away. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up pushing Harry away too. Don’t look at me like that, I know this is really about Harry.”
Louis was saved from replying when his phone buzzed. He looked down at the screen, his mind half stuck on Oli’s words. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that everyone around him was expressing concerns about his recent behavior, but it caused something in him to burn. It wasn’t like he wanted to be like this. Louis opened his phone. A new text from Niall.
Nigel: Need help with unpacking a few things, you busy today?
[13:23] why can’t u ask harry ?? he loves helping with home decor n shit
Nigel: He’s out running with Liam
Nigel: Also we need to talk about you and Harry
Jesus, Louis didn’t think he could handle another Talk right now.
Louis left Niall on read and turned off his phone. “Just for today,” he said, voice quieter than before. “And then I can do a soul-searching episode and fix all of this later, just - just for today.” He didn’t know who he was saying this to, but Oli nodded anyway.
Eleanor sighed, but she didn’t try to argue. She didn’t have much patience for Louis and his eccentric personality on good days.
He stood, his mind only focusing on the fun night he might (he will) have, the rest of his problems melting away. Just for tonight, he deserved this after everything this year was throwing at him. “I’m gonna go get changed, and then we’ll meet up at my place around eight and get completely fucking wasted.”
“You’re the only one that’s going to get White Girl Wasted,” Eleanor rolled her eyes. Here she was again with her unnecessary opinions. “You’re going to spend three hours on your hair and then black out the moment you take a sip of a mimosa.”
“Wrong,” Louis snapped. “I do not get White Girl Wasted.”
“You were grinding on that random man last time we went out,” Oli added. “You bent down and everything-”
Louis frowned, his face burning slightly in embarrassment. “There’s no proof that happened.”
“Actually,” Oli began, because of course, “I’m pretty sure there’s a video. It was trending on Twitter a while back.”
Louis frowned, but decided he ultimately didn’t want to know. “He should be flattered then, who wouldn’t want me to grind on them? I’m, like, the hottest thing in existence.”
“Any bigger, and your ego might pop,” Eleanor scoffed. “You’re not that attractive.”
“Yes, I am,” Louis argued, like a child. “Everyone thinks so.”
“Nah, you’re really not my type,” she said. Unnecessary opinion number three.
“Bullshit, I’m everyone’s type,” Louis rolled his eyes. “You haven’t seen my Twitter DMs, it’s filled with girls expressing their undying love for me.”
“That’s because the only people you attract are lesbians, and they’re only in love with you because they think you look like one.”
Oli snorted, that traitor.
“That’s not true,” Louis muttered, upset even though she wasn’t that far off from the truth. “Harry isn’t a lesbian and he’s practically in love with me.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows quirked up. “Who said anything about Harry?”
Oli snapped his head up. “What do you mean Harry’s in love with you?”
“I-” Louis froze. “What Makes You Beautiful” continued playing in his head. He didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t even know if it was true or not, he just - he wanted - Even if Harry was in love with him, it was only platonically. Because he was going on walks around L.A. with Taylor Swift, and not. . . “I’m going to go water my fish.”
“You don’t have a fish,” Eleanor said.
Louis nodded slowly. “I’m going to go buy a fish.” And then he left.
²⁸
About half an hour later, Louis got a call from Harry. It was embarrassing how quickly he picked up. He didn’t want to act clingy, but it had been so long since he had the chance to be around Harry, just the two of them, alone together, that the Harry-shaped hole in his heart began to throb. It wasn’t even as a result of a fight this time, the way they used to be. It was hard to know if this sudden space between them was intentional or not, but it made Louis ache for Harry all the same. Platonically, of course.
“Hey,” Louis said into the phone, attempting to curb the enthusiasm in his voice. “Harry, what’s up?”
“Lou-?” Harry’s voice was distorted because of the phone quality, but it filled him with warmth nonetheless. “Did you get Niall’s text about helping him unpack? He said he told you about it, but you might answer back if I asked you.”
Louis swore in his head. Of course Niall was going to use his one weakness against him. There was no way Louis could physically say no when Harry asked him to do something. He swore there was cocaine laced in his dimples. “Tell him I’m busy.”
“Really, what are you doing? Where are you right now?”
“I’m at a pet shop.”
There was a pause. Harry’s voice came back cautious. “Why?”
“I-” He looked down at the fishbowl in his arms, a single goldfish happily swimming around a plastic treasure chest. He was standing in front of a larger tank for the fish, who he had impulsively named Jenny The Lesbian. He didn’t know if the fish was an actual lesbian or not, but he figured most people he surrounded himself with were, in one way or another. “I’m buying a fish.”
“Why are you buying a fish?” Harry sounded amused. Louis didn’t know if his cheeks were heating up in embarrassment or fondness.
“I don’t really know,” Louis answered. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Like, thirty minutes ago when I decided to buy one.”
“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “Okay, um, just come over to Niall’s if you can.”
“Are you going to be there?”
“Yeah, in an hour or so. I just got back from running with Liam and need a shower.”
“So, you’re home right now?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
Louis smiled privately to himself, because Taylor Swift didn’t get to have this. No matter what happened, she couldn’t drive over to Harry’s house whenever she wanted. She didn’t know what he looked like first thing in the morning, the way he rubbed his eyes when he was tired after recording a song, the way his dimples deepened when he was blushing after Louis said a rather risque line. She didn’t get to have Harry the way Louis had Harry. (No homo tho. They were just friends, after all, like Achilles and Patroclus. Except those two were cousins, weren’t they? Louis thought he saw that in a movie once.)
He purchased Jenny the Lesbian and drove to Harry’s house without stopping to consider if it was a good idea. Thinking before acting was lame and Louis wasn’t lame.
When Harry opened the door, Louis’ breath caught in his chest. He must have just gotten out of the shower. His towel was still slung around his neck, droplets of water falling from his curls. His skin was a soft pink because he liked to scrub it too hard, and his sweatpants were hanging off his hips in a way Louis could only describe as illegal. Harry didn’t look as surprised as he could’ve been at Louis randomly showing up at his doorstep, but his eyebrows did lift in confusion at the fish in his arms.
“Why?” Harry asked.
Louis pushed it into Harry’s arms. “Happy Christmas.”
“It’s July.”
“Then happy early birthday,” Louis said, giving him a smile. Harry looked down at the fish, and then back up at Louis’ smile, his cheeks turning a deep red.
“Thanks,” he said softly. He turned to head inside his house and Louis followed him like a Golden Retriever.
“Her name is Jenny The Lesbian,” Louis added, because he couldn’t stop himself.
Harry laughed, and it was the prettiest sound in the world.
Louis had forgotten all about clubbing while he was at Niall’s, refusing to help in favor of ribbing Harry every chance he got just to see his cheeks turn pink again. When Harry asked if he could come over, Louis didn’t think twice before agreeing, his mind already filled with plans of cuddling on the couch and watching a movie as a cover for snogging like a bunch of fourteen-year olds. When he pulled up and saw two cars in his driveway, Louis turned off his car with a quiet, “Fuck.”
Harry looked at him curiously. “Who did you invite over?”
“Fucking Eleanor,” he muttered, “and Oli. Fuck, I forgot about them.”
“Oh.”
Louis turned to him. Harry was frowning, his cheek resting on his fist as he stared out the window. “We were gonna go out clubbing, do you want to come?”
“Louis, it’s Thursday.”
“Yeah, and?”
“We have to record tomorrow.”
“I’m not seeing a problem here.”
“I’m not-” Harry stopped himself with an annoyed huff. “Not with her there.”
“Who, Eleanor?” Harry didn’t respond, but Louis understood, sort of. “Why don’t you like Eleanor?”
“It’s not that I don’t like her,” Harry mumbled, pouting a bit. Louis reached out and tugged on a curl just because he could. “It’s just - it’s like you and Taylor.”
His eyebrows shut up. “What?” His voice was just a smidge too loud for the car, and it startled him enough to fix his volume. “What do you mean, it’s like me and Taylor?”
Harry didn’t say anything, but his silence spoke enough for him.
“I am not jealous of Taylor Swift!” Louis exclaimed. He rubbed his palms down his face, irritation dripping off of him. “Why does everyone think that? I just - I have nothing to be jealous of!”
Harry hummed. It felt like he knew something Louis didn’t. “So if I said I was going to FaceTime Taylor later tonight, you wouldn’t mind?”
A million ugly emotions rushed through Louis. “Why would you want to FaceTime her? The time difference between London and Los Angeles is, like, fifty hours-”
“No, it’s not.”
“You’d rather spend time with Taylor Swift than me?” Louis asked, a lot more insecurities than he originally planned creeping into his voice. “You’d rather spend time with a girl?”
Harry’s lips quirked up. They’d been more pink than usual, Harry casually chewing on them while he thought. Louis’ eyes trailed down to them for a split second. “I thought you weren’t jealous?”
“I’m not! I’m just-” He stopped himself. Why was he explaining himself? First The Sun, now Harry? It was almost like- huh.
Louis narrowed his eyes, a wicked grin appearing on his face. He leaned closer to Harry, conscious of the way Harry’s breath tangled in his throat as the space between them disappeared. Their faces were a hair's breadth away from each other, so close Louis could almost taste it when Harry licked his lips. “Do you want me to be jealous?”
Harry’s eyes widened, his gaze flicking from Louis’ eyes to somewhere behind him. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, and Louis’ lips parted slightly. “Ah, fuck. That’s hot.” He made a horrified noise in his throat, as if he just realized what he said.
(Harry had always looked so pretty when he was embarrassed. Louis wanted to embarrass him even more.)
(No homo, though.)
(Well, a little homo. He was allowed to be a little homo today. It had been a very stressful day.)
Harry swallowed and looked away. To Louis’ self-satisfaction, it took him a few long seconds. “Um, maybe I should go-”
Louis wanted to be selfish. More than anything, he wanted to be selfish. “Stay,” he breathed out. He reached out and tugged another strand of Harry's hair. His heart was fluttering. “For a bit. I’ll make you a cuppa.”
“I - okay,” Harry whispered, flustered.
Louis couldn’t stop the rush of warmth from filling his chest. He wanted Harry right where he could see him.
Louis unlocked his front door and was greeted with the sight of Eleanor lounging on his couch, in a similar position to how she was earlier that day, and Oli messing around in the kitchen. “How did you two get into my house?”
“You gave me your spare key when you first moved in,” Oli reminded him. In his left hand, he held a now empty carton of milk. “Why is there no food in your kitchen? You literally have a toaster but no bread.”
“Because last time I bought bread, I burnt them all,” Louis replied, irritated. “Put some water in the kettle.” He toed off his shoes at the front door, a habit from living with Harry that he had yet to kick, and slumped down on the chair opposite from where Eleanor sat. Harry stood awkwardly near the door, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. A nervous habit of his.
“Erm, hi,” Harry said. He had never warmed up to his friends (and Eleanor) completely and Louis tried not to mind. He didn’t like all of Harry’s friends, or more specifically, he didn’t like Nick Grimshaw. They were too similar of people to be friends, and every time they were in the same room together, Louis wanted to mess up his cool quiff. How dare he try and have better hair than Louis? But Harry genuinely tried to be friends with everyone, and when he couldn’t, he always saw it being his fault. Louis tried to explain to Harry how unlikely it was to have everyone like you, but the pesky voice in the back of Harry’s head was often too loud. It was partially why Louis didn’t want to force Harry to spend time with his mates.
“Hi Harry,” Eleanor and Oli said in unison, as if they were in a support group for drug addicts, or something.
“Joining us tonight?” Oli asked as he somehow managed to find a bag of crisps Louis did not remember buying. He needed to go shopping soon.
“No, he thinks you’re ugly,” Louis muttered. He stood up and headed to the kitchen, taking out a white mug with a cat on it that Harry loved to drink out of. He nudged Oli playfully. “Move, I’m making him a cuppa.”
“You’re like a housewife,” Oli murmured, quiet enough that only Louis heard. “You never made me a cuppa.”
“You’re not pretty the way Harry is.”
Oli looked at him weirdly. “You’re so gay, mate.”
Louis rolled his eyes. He used to get bothered when people said things like that, whether they were friends or strangers on the internet, but he was so used to it at this point that it slid off of him like glue on rubber. Especially when Oli said it, because nothing Oli did would ever bother him after his mum found him searching up porn once on the family computer in Year 8.
He prepared Harry’s tea quietly. It still felt domestic, even after all this time, even after they moved into seperate homes and were surrounded by different people. They still made each other tea. He slid it over the counter to where Harry was standing, messing around with his phone. Harry gave him a thankful smile.
“Lou,” Eleanor said, holding her phone straight above her head. “Does this guy look cute to you? He just DM’d me.”
Louis headed over to her with a sigh and checked out the profile of an okay-ish looking guy with brown hair. “He’s pretty average. Why are you letting boys DM you?”
“Why not?” She shrugged. She started typing out a message in his DMs.
“You can’t talk to other boys when you’re my fake girlfriend,” Louis argued. “Have some self-respect.”
Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Oh, so you get a Harry, but I can’t even talk to cute boys on Instagram. Rude.”
“What do you mean I “get a Harry”?” She muttered something under her breath, but Louis stopped caring. “Whatever, I’m going to change. Don’t burn down me house in the meantime.”
Oli hummed, pulling out a bottle of soda that Louis also did not remember buying. “No promises. Also there’s some weird white stuff on your bed.”
“One, why were you in my bedroom? Two, what weird white stuff?”
Oli didn’t reply. Louis was apprehensive over leaving Harry alone with Oli and Eleanor, but he figured nothing bad could happen in ten minutes. He entered his room and stopped short at the aforementioned white thing on his sheets. Huh, where did that come from? He leaned down and touched it. After a few seconds of contemplating if it was worth it, Louis brought it up to his mouth and licked it. Ah.
“Where the fuck did all this ranch come from?”
²⁸
Louis left his room in new skinnies and a maroon shirt that scooped below his collarbones. Eleanor was no longer on the couch, but instead leaning against the wall with a disgruntled expression. Oli was tying his shoes near the door. “Where’s Harry?”
“He left,” Oli answered. He didn’t sound too worried about it. “Said he had something to do.”
Louis frowned. Was he talking about Taylor? “Without telling me?”
Eleanor lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t think Harry likes me.”
He scoffed. “Don’t be dumb, Harry likes everyone.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t like me.” She sounded more upset than he thought she needed to be. Eleanor didn’t exactly like Harry much either. “He acts differently towards me when you’re not here.”
“Huh.” Louis slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys. He had called a private driver earlier, so they could get absolutely trashed without worrying about heading back home.
“Huh,” Eleanor mocked. “Aren’t you going to do something about it?”
Louis thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah. If Harry doesn’t like someone, it’s usually for a good reason.”
She scowled. “You’re an awful fake boyfriend.”
“You said that already.”
“Well, you deserve being told that twice.”
“I wish I could turn down your volume in real life.”
The next four hours or so was a series of mistakes Louis would do anything to forget. It started normal enough, heading to a nearby club and getting comfortable, listening to Eleanor and Oli bicker while he drank martinis after martinis after vodka shots. Somewhere along his fifth drink, Louis opened up his phone and searched for his messages with Harry.
[9:45] I’m not actua ly jealous of taylor swift
[9:45] dunno why every1 keeps thnking thst
[9:47] wut is thrr to be jealous of?
[9:48] i havvr a better ass
[9:48] bettr than every1 youve ever been with
[9:48] best u eve had
[9:48] best i ever had
[9:48] thats ine of our song lyrics ^^^
[9:50] i wasnt saying u were t
[9:50] the best
[9:54] ur my best mate
[9:55] but dnt tell oli
[9:55] or zayn
He got distracted after that when Oli brought over some more shots and someone flashed a familiar baggie at him. After quickly heading out to smoke some weed and down a few more shots, Louis was pleasantly buzzed and incapable of rational thought. Which was why he opened up his phone again and looked for Harry’s number.
[10:34] u could do so much better than tsylor
[10:34] date some1 who doednt wriye songs about hr exboyfrinds
[10:36] im not jealous tho
[10:39] nthing to be jeals of just dnt want you to grt a song
[10:42] dnot want you to be anothr one of tslors exbf cuz shll write a vry good song abut you
[10:45] i rlly lke all too well
[10:52] i rlly lke u
[10:53] not in a gay way tho
[10:55] ur just vry good at sex
[11:12] oh god are u having sex wth tslor swift?????
[11:13] gross dnt havr sex wih girls thats weird
[11:15] dnt have sex with boys tho thas gay
[11:16] dont have sex with any1
[11:17] except me
[11:22] no homo tho
He spotted Eleanor coming towards and his brain went in a different direction.
[11:24] should i get a dog?
[11:24] elwnope keeps loooking up pics of dogs onmy phon an now i wanna dogeujhw
Eleanor took his phone before he could send his next message (Im having so muh fu n but i kinda wanna stay up watch tv with u hold ure hand and idk y), which was probably for the best.
When Louis woke up the next morning, hungover and cursing the day he was born, he found a text from last night that Harry had sent.
[11:32] Harry: Stop texting me when you’re drunk :). - H
It felt somewhat passive aggressive, but Louis couldn’t remember what he had written last night that made Harry so testy. Then he scrolled up and felt his entire stomach drop. He was never going to drink ever again (a lie).
[11:34] Harry: also you should get a dog if it will make you happy. - H
Louis somewhat considered never talking to Oli again because of how awful his hangover was and how mortified he was after rereading his drunk texts with Harry. His head throbbed every time he took a breath and every step made acid crawl up his throat. He was grumpy the entire recording session, but sucked it up and sang his part of the song (Of course it had to be “Better Than Words”; Louis cursed Liam for writing that song and cursed whoever decided to give him a solo.), downing as much water as he could in between his turns and groaning in misfortune every time his stomach rolled. Was this really the life he wanted to have?
“You look like shit,” Zayn said, nudging Louis with his shoes as he sprawled on the couch. Liam was currently in the recording booth, singing his part of the chorus. He didn’t know where Niall and Harry were, and he was too hungover to care.
“Thanks, you look lovely too,” Louis grumbled, one arms thrown over his eyes. He half-listened to the advice Liam was given by their vocal coach on how to sing a particular section of the song. “You like Liam, right? Like, romantically?”
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Zayn agreed easily, as if Liam wasn’t ten feet away from them. Sure, he couldn’t hear them, but still.
Louis searched for the right words. “Doesn’t it ever - it’s not like he knows, right? It’s not like it can ever - I mean, Liam’s straight.”
Zayn made a funny noise. “I mean, somewhat.”
Louis paused. He moved his arm and blinked up at Zayn. “What do you mean, somewhat?”
“I mean, Liam is straight. Occasionally.”
“Occasionally?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you elaborate on that?”
“No.”
Louis groaned and covered his eyes again. “Fine, whatever. Don’t help me at all.”
“I didn’t even know you were asking for help,” Zayn snickered. “Look, the difference between me and Liam and you and Harry is that you two are - I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like you two are on opposite sides of a mirror and when you reach out to touch each other, you just barely miss. But you’re right there, so close to each other, because the mirror doesn’t exactly exist. You just think it does, and won’t bother to check if it’s real or not.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means stop being an idiot, and maybe stop drinking on a Thursday night?” Zayn offered, unhelpfully. “If you’re not careful, management is going to turn you into the "out-of-control party animal”.”
Louis peeked at him from behind his arm. “Like how they make you the “mysterious one”?”
Zayn hummed. Louis moved his legs out of the way so that Zayn could squeeze onto the couch, lifting them back up so that he could prop his feet on Zayn’s lap. Zayn flicked Louis’ ankle but didn’t take it off. “You’ve been acting weird these past few, like, months. More than usual.”
“I dunno,” he mumbled. He knew he promised Oli that he would face his problems head on after their night clubbing, but that promise seemed less appealing in the morning. “I just - why can’t I stop thinking about it when Harry is with other people? What’s wrong with me?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, mate,” Zayn said. He sighed. “That’s haram.”
Louis groaned and kicked him. “Shut the fuck up.”
“That’s also haram.”
“I’m going to murder you.”
“That’s still haram.”
“Why is everything haram when I do it?”
“Questioning me is also haram.”
Louis smacked him in the arm. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” Zayn snorted, “but everytime I try to talk to you about it, you start ranting about how you’re not actually jealous this time. You get jealous every time someone looks at Harry. You’re, like, so gone and you don’t even know it.”
It’s different this time, Louis wanted to say, but he still didn’t know how. Everything was messed up in his brain, and he couldn’t blame it all on his hangover.
“Just because I don’t want him to be around people that don’t deserve him-” Louis started, but Zayn started laughing, cutting him off. “Oh, shove off of it. Don’t be a twat, Zayn.” Zayn continued being a twat, curling over laughing and distracting the workers in the studio room. Liam looked at them from behind the glass curiously but continued singing his part.
“You’re so - fucking stupid,” Zayn said between wheezes. “ “Oh, I don’t want him to - want him to be around other people, but, like, no homo”. That’s how you fucking sound-” He ended that sentence with more laughter. It wasn’t even funny.
“I hate you so much,” Louis groaned. He clambered off of the couch with playful disdain. “I’m gonna go have a wee. I hope you choke on your spit.”
He left the room to the sounds of Liam recording and Zayn wheezing, and wondered if it was too late to kick Zayn out of the band. It was getting ridiculous how dumb he was. Louis sighed and tried not to think as he quickly used the nearest bathroom, briefly contemplating choking Zayn once he got back, just in case he was still laughing. When he left the restroom, he must have taken a wrong turn because he couldn’t find their recording room. Louis paused and looked around. All the hallways looked the same to him, plain white with various records from different artists hung up the wall like Louvre paintings. He supposed it would do him some good to walk around anyway, take advantage of the quiet to straighten out his thoughts. Louis shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking around, his feet in charge of the destination while his brain whirred noisily.
He was on the verge of admitting something to himself, something big, but the thought of it was terrifying. There was a line drawn on the metaphorical sand, separating who he was and who he thought he was, but he didn’t know which side was which. Louis turned a corner and heard someone say his name. Louis swallowed down a swear and turned back around.
Niall and Harry were standing in the hallway he was about to go down, but they hadn’t seen him yet. Harry had his back to the wall, a frustrated expression on his face while Niall looked done with him. Louis peeked around the corner.
“-not even being subtle about it,” Niall was saying. “I mean, the way you act during interviews and stuff? You just want him to notice. You’re trying to make him jealous.”
“What’s so wrong about that?” Harry asked. He played with the hem of his shirt. “It means he cares, right?”
Niall made a noise that was only seventy-five percent human. “You two are actually ridiculous. I swear to God-”
“You don’t get it, he bought me a fish-”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything? You don’t even like fish!”
“Well, I do now.”
“You fucking simp-”
A door slammed shut further down the hallway and Louis jumped away. Niall cut himself off, and for the next ten seconds, it was quiet. Did they see him? Louis waited for one of them to turn the corner and yell at him for eavesdropping, but nothing happened. He counted his heartbeats. Finally, Niall muttered, “Let’s get going before they wonder where we are.”
Louis waited until their footsteps faded before he released the breath he was holding. They were talking about him, right? Harry was trying to make him jealous, that Louis knew. Why was another question altogether. He wanted to demand answers from them, but he also didn't want to expose himself. He wrestled with himself, the side that wanted to know everything and the side afraid of the answers.
He dropped his head in his hands and groaned. In the back of his mind, the chorus to "Better Than Words" began playing. He didn't take a moment to question how.
²⁸
The closer their album came to finishing, the more Louis saw Haylor everywhere. It was better this time, though. One Direction was so busy with performing and interviews and recording that Louis didn't have time to be upset, focusing his energy on finishing the album. He watched “Best Song Ever” climb up the charts with one eye, the other writing and rewriting the final songs for Midnight Memories. They had a tour lined up for after the album finished, and meet and greets planned before then. The busyness of it all kept his head straight, and he almost forgot why he was so upset until July rolled into August and Louis was given the worst news ever.
"What the fuck do you mean they're dating?" He hissed.
Zayn winced away from him. They were currently behind the studio, taking a brief smoke break that turned into a gossip corner, like they were two middle-aged women in an office getting coffee. They weren’t recording anything, but some songs needed fine tuning and Zayn had agreed to go with Liam and Louis because he had nothing better to do. Liam was scrolling through his phone next to them, wrinkling his nose when the cigarette smoke wafted close to him. He only smoked when he was very stressed, but didn’t mind joining their impromptu smoke breaks to gossip.
"According to official sources," Zayn began.
"Official sources my arse!" Louis interrupted. Sweat slid down his neck. It was too hot, where was the dreary English weather he was so used to? "A random Twitter user isn't "official sources". The Sun should stop spouting bullshit-"
Zayn took a drag of his cigarette. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, but then again, so were Louis’. God, he needed a nap. "Management actually-"
"So, it's just a stunt, right?" The other boys didn't answer him. It was increasingly obvious that they all knew something he didn’t, and if there was one thing Louis hated more than anything, it was being excluded from something. He clenched his fists but let it go. For now. There were more pressing things to worry about. "There's no way Harry would actually date Taylor Swift, right?"
Liam finally pulled up the article on his phone and showed it to him. "According to representatives on both sides, Harry and Taylor are very happy together." He had a wry twist to his lips, like this was all a joke he found ironic.
Louis grabbed his phone and read over the article quickly. The words made him feel sick to his stomach. "It has to be a stunt, come on. They don't even live in the same timezone, how is that going to work out? We’re so busy all the time that there’s no way. . . And Harry is, like, way too young for her."
"He's nineteen," Zayn reminded him around another puff of smoke. "Contrary to what you may think, he's a big boy now."
"And Taylor is only a year older than you," Liam added. "You saying you're too old for Harry too?"
"I don't-" Louis frowned. "That's different."
"You're just jealous," Zayn sing-songed. “Louis’ jealous of Taylor! He’s so so jealous!” Louis was going to kick him out of the band.
He plucked the cigarette from between Zayn's mouth and took a much needed drag. The burn settled a bit of his thoughts.
Zayn spluttered at the loss, reaching out a hand to take it back. Louis ducked away with a laugh. "My fag," he whined mournfully.
"That's bloody offensive, mate," Louis grumbled.
He wrinkled his nose. "I wasn't talking about you, dumbass."
Louis exhaled the smoke slowly. "You think we can sue the article for homophobia."
"Why would you sue the article for homophobia?" Liam asked, taking his phone back from Louis. Last time he had it for longer than thirty seconds, Louis had accidentally dropped it in the toilet. It was unused, thank God, but that didn’t stop Louis from being a little shit and flushing his phone down said toilet.
"Because I'm gay and I don’t like it."
"I'm pretty sure calling The Sun homophobic is defamation," Liam said, looking over his phone in case Louis somehow cracked it. He rolled his shoulders, his bones cracking pleasantly after hours spent working on their songs. “Then we’ll be the ones getting sued.”
"Technically, it's not defamation if it's true," Zayn said. He tapped a finger on his chin. "We can't prove that they're not homophobic."
"We can't prove that they are homophobic either," Liam argued. “I’d rather not risk it when we haven’t even released our album yet.”
“So, you’re saying we sue them after the album is released?” Zayn asked.
Liam laughed, giving Zayn fond looks that the black-haired boy somehow never noticed. “Why do you want to sue The Sun so much? I expect this more from Louis.”
Zayn shrugged. “ ‘ve always wanted to sue someone, it looks fun. Do you think we’ll end up on T.V. court?”
Louis choked on his next drag. He heaved over, hacking out his lungs as the smoke went in loop-de-loops in his nose. His chest burned with every exhale and he couldn’t get enough air in to soothe it. Zayn and Liam patiently waited for him to stop dying.
"What the fuck?" Louis wheezed, shrill.
"Are you okay?" Zayn asked, not sounding particularly worried. He leaned against the wall, arms casually crossed. He looked like a British version of John Bender, if Bender was a member of an internationally popular boy band.
"What did I just say? What the fuck did I just-?"
Liam at least looked a little worried. "Are you all right, Tommo? Do you need some water-"
"Did I just come out to myself?" Louis questioned, one hand pressed against his chest, his heartbeat jackrabbiting underneath. His fag had fallen on the ground. His fag-? Oh, God. "Using a gay joke? What the fuck? What the actual fuck?"
Liam raised an eyebrow. "Ah, I didn't even notice. To be fair, that was a very you thing to do. Although I expected it to be more dramatic, with confetti and cake."
Zayn started laughing, that little shit. "How do you accidentally come out to yourself-"
Louis shoved at him. Zayn leaped out of the way, but just barely. He was still laughing. "I'm kicking you out of the band, mate."
"You keep saying that, but you're not going to do it," Zayn crooned. He moved rather fast for someone who claimed going up the lift was the only exercise he did. "Imagine not knowing you're gay for, like, twenty-one years and then coming out with a fucking gay joke. Imagine being that fucking oblivious-" Louis was going to kill him. They’ll have to continue the band as four members now.
Liam chuckled but held his hands up in a sign of peace when Louis whipped his head at him. "It is kind of funny. I mean, after a while, it becomes rather obvious."
Louis narrowed his eyes. "Liam, Zayn has been in love with you for the past three years."
Liam's eyes widened. "Wha-"
Zayn grabbed Louis and pulled him into a headlock. "Louis, you little bitch-"
Louis started laughing wildly. Sure, his oxygen levels were slowly dwindling, but it was worth it considering how red Zayn’s face was. He was so effortlessly cool sometimes that it was difficult getting him flustered. This was payback time.
"He's lying, he's just playing around," Zayn said quickly, attempting to squeeze the air out of Louis' lungs while panicking to Liam. "He's a liar, I don’t actually-"
The back door opened. "What are you guys doing?" Their writing partner, Julian, asked, an exasperated expression on his face.
The three boys looked up. "Murdering Louis," Zayn said slowly. Louis let out a wheezed gasp that approximately translated to some sort of cry for help.
If Julian hadn’t been working with them for the past three years and hadn't become used to their antics, he might have quit right about then. "Wait until after the album is finished, please."
Zayn let go of Louis reluctantly. “We are talking later,” he muttered into Louis’ ear darkly. All right, maybe he’ll be the murdered member this time.
Louis pressed his hands against his thighs, sucking in deep breaths. He waved an anxious Liam away, gasping out, “I’ll be fine, give me a sec.”
“Are you sure?” Liam asked, hovering around him even as Zayn and Julian reentered the building.
“Yeah, almost got murdered,” he wheezed, “no big deal.” At the increasingly worried look Liam was shooting him, Louis sighed. “I swear I’m fine, give me a minute to think first.”
Finally, finally, Liam agreed. “Text us if you need anything.” And then he left.
Louis sighed and slid to the ground. Fuck, what did he just do?
He swallowed and looked around. He was alone. Blessedly alone.
“I’m gay,” he told no one, his voice shaking with nerves. No one replied.
The ground didn't start shaking. A comet didn't hurtle to the Earth. Nothing monumental changed around him. He didn't exactly feel different, either. He took in another deep breath.
“Am I?” Louis continued softly. “Am I lying? I don’t think I am. Am I really-”
The line was gone. Scrubbed from the metaphorical sand until who he was and who he thought he was mixed into the same person. It felt. . .terrifying, but right. Anticlimactic, sure, but something in his head clicked and the world began moving more fluidly. But there was something else bothering him, something he tried his hardest to decipher to no avail.
“I’m gay,” he said to himself. “I like boys. I really like boys.” He laughed to himself, although nothing in particular was funny. Laughing released some of the tension in his shoulders. “Does that mean I’m going to have to cuff my jeans now?”
Twitter was going to have a field day with this one.
Louis’ smile faded away. Fuck, he had to tell Simon Cowell.
²⁸ ⃤
this fic is almost 100k words im so sorry I'll try to wrap this up quickly
also i had to come out to myself at least three times in the past five years, and the last i came out was because i wanted to make "lesbian louis" jokes.