It was actually Niall who first brought up the idea of bringing Harry out of his shell. “We gotta get you to a party, mate,” he told him when Harry announced he’d be spending another Friday night in. “You’ve been at uni for two and a half months now, and you have, what, four friends?”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with having a small group of friends,” added Louis defensively. “The size of your social circle is entirely your choice.” Niall, I swear to god if you give this kid a complex about his social life-
“I think I’d like to have more friends,” Harry said slowly. “I mean- it’s not that you’re not all great. But I like people.”
“And people like you,” Niall declared. “You’re like Louis, bloody charming all the time.”
Harry just looked simply delighted to be compared to Louis. “So how do I get, like, invited to parties?”
“You just have to know people. And luckily,” said Niall with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “you’re friends with someone on the footie team and this little socialite. Any of your friends throwing a party this weekend, Tommo?”
“Erm. I wouldn’t know,” Louis said honestly. He’d been spending most of his time this semester with Harry and the lads, at the expense of his friendships with all of the other misfits on campus. Which probably wasn’t such a bad thing, in the end. The idea of Harry hanging out in some grungey, smoke-filled flat in the sketchy part of town was almost funny enough to laugh at.
Niall was undeterred. “What about you, Li?”
“After I used my new team captain authority to scare them all out of drinking too hard and throwing off their game? Probably not.”
“Damn. Okay. Uh, Zayn?”
“We’re art students. We don’t really party…?”
“It’s up to you, then, Niall,” Louis said with a smirk. “Your idea anyways.”
“I just hang out with whoever’s around me dorm,” Niall replied with a shrug. “Although- I think one of the lads upstairs is having a little get-together tonight! Not like a party party, but. You know. People and alcohol in a room having a good time, so.”
There was still some nervousness in Harry’s face, but his eyes were bright and enthusiastic. “That sounds okay. Could we- is it okay if we go? If I go, I mean. But. We, really, because I don’t want to go by myself.”
“I’m in,” Louis immediately supplied. There’s no way I’m sending you into a strange situation by yourself, that’s for damn sure.
The others quickly chorused their agreement, and so a plan was set in motion. Liam and Niall had one last class of the day, and Zayn insisted he needed to do some work back at their flat, so Harry and Louis were left to their own devices for a few hours. Most of the time was spent watching a movie. The rest of it was Harry fretting and Louis assuring him that yes, his outfit was fine, and no, he wasn’t supposed to bring anything, and of course, Louis would stay with him the entire night if he wanted.
They made their way to Niall’s dorm, the designated meeting place, almost a half hour early. Louis didn’t mention how being early to a party was literally the only time punctuality was a bad thing. “Let’s at least just hang out at Niall’s room for a bit first,” he said gently, guiding them to the other boy’s door.
Inside, they found not only Niall, but also Zayn, side by side on the bed looking at something on Niall’s laptop. The smile Zayn wore was brighter than any Louis had ever seen him give, with his constant state of quiet, brooding contemplation. “What’s this, then?” Louis teased, making both of them jump in surprise. “Having fun without me?”
“Hey guys,” came Niall’s smooth reply. “Just waiting on Liam, then? Or is he coming separately?”
"He has a meeting with some lads from one of his classes for a group project or something," Louis shrugged. "But he’ll be by in a bit."
“Good, yeah,” mumbled Niall. “Shall we, erm, go, then?”
And so they went, with levels of excitement ranging all the way from Zayn’s calm nonchalance tinged with amusement, to Harry’s trembling anticipation. Louis wanted to reach out and grab his hand, to stop the trembling, if nothing else. He didn’t. He continued to debate it all the way upstairs.
This was definitely the perfect engagement for Harry, though. The dorm in question had about ten people in it, once their group had arrived. No one tried to push drinks on them, or made a show of getting intimate with one another, or anything else that might have Harry’s knees locking up like a startled baby deer. Really it was just like at home, where they would all hang out and watch telly and play guitar and eat. The only difference was a few new faces- and that seemed just fine with Harry.
If anything, it was Louis who had a tough time relaxing into the swing of the party- he was spending so much time watching every twitch of Harry’s face that he couldn’t quite enjoy himself. It was only after 45 minutes of Harry looking content that he pinched his thigh and gave himself a stern and silent lecture on trying not to be such a mother hen.
He pried his eyes from Harry, who was sitting quietly by his side on the couch watching everything with sparkling eyes, to have a look of his own. Zayn and Niall were over by the drinks table, leaning to talk into each other’s ears over the music. Apparently Zayn was hysterical, because Niall’s laughter was as obnoxious and unabashed as ever. Liam still hadn’t made an appearance. Hopefully he hadn’t gotten too caught up-
“Hey, how’s it goin?” someone asked nearby.
He opened his mouth to answer as he searched for the source, but it soon became apparent that the question was not directed at him. The person talking was a chubbyish, ginger-haired man with a friendly smile and a worn tee shirt on. And he was looking directly at Harry.
“Hi, I’m good. You?’ replied Harry with a tentative smile.
“I’m great. Ed Sheeran, by the way. Don’t think we’ve met?”
“I don’t think so either, I haven’t really- I’m Harry. Styles.”
Another friendly smile, and a handshake that seemed oddly formal for a room full of tipsy uni students. “Nice to meet you, Harry Styles. You um, want a drink? I noticed you weren’t drinking anything…”
Which had been Harry’s intention for the start. He still refused to fess up to what kind of drunk behavior he found so shameful, but Harry had declared on the way over that he would not be drinking, lest the alcohol ruin his fragile social experience. So when this guy- Ed- came over to offer Harry a drink, Louis expected him to just stutter out an embarrassed ‘no thanks’ and that would be that.
But that’s not what Harry did. Instead, he tore his eyes from Ed to look questioningly at Louis, as if asking permission to answer. It was almost funny. Louis could almost laugh at the meek way Harry still sought his guidance, except that Harry was a baby bird who needed mama bird Louis to nudge him from the nest and that was really quite a serious matter.
“You don’t need my permission,” he answered as lightly as he could, smiling first at Harry and then Ed. “How’s it going, mate? I’m Louis.”
“Hey, yeah. I think I’ve seen you around. Sorry, are you two-?”
Harry was clueless as to what Ed was asking, but Louis needed no clarification. Two guys, one openly gay, sitting on the couch together at a party with only half a millimeter of space between them usually didn’t indicate ‘just friends.’ “No, no,” he replied smoothly, ignoring the uncomfortable wrench in his gut. “We’re not together.”
“Oh. Well in that case, I’ll be right back with a drink for you,” said Ed brightly as he turned and made his way to the kitchen with a pleased smile.
He wasn’t the only one that was grinning from ear to ear, either. If Harry got any more enthusiastic he might burst, if the look on his face was anything to go by. It made a scowl tug at Louis’ mouth for some unknown reason. How come Harry was so excited about this guy? What was so great about him? Wasn’t Louis interesting enough? Why was some random guy handing him drinks suddenly more interesting than Louis?
“Just make sure the drink he hands you isn’t opened,” is all he grumbles.
And it might be true that the more engaged Harry gets in that conversation, the grumpier Louis gets. He’s watching every twitch of their faces, especially once he’s finished reading Ed like a book. Music student. Gay. Easygoing. Likes his drinks, but not obnoxious. Callouses from guitar. Speaks eloquently- a writer, or could be one. Little care for personal style. Affectionate. Considerate. Good person.
And the fact that he can find zero reason to dislike the man now stealing all of Harry’s attention might just make that feeling in his stomach- jealousy?- a little worse.
His beer starts to get warm in his hand, because he forgets to drink it. He forgets to do anything but watch the banter between Ed and Harry, actually, until someone nudges his shoulder. Liam has apparently just arrived, looking tired but friendly. “Hey mate.”
“Hey. How was the meeting?”
“Boring. Much rather be here, to be honest. What, that drink not good?”
“What? Oh.” Louis swirled the almost-full bottle a little absently. “No, it’s fine.”
“Are you good? Never known you not to finish a drink, Lou.”
The question and the joke both make Louis scowl in the general direction of the carpet. “I’m tired,” he says blandly, which is true enough not to be a lie, but off-topic enough not to let Liam know what’s really bothering him. “You want the rest of this?”
“My mother taught me never to accept open drinks at a party.”
“I promise I’m not going to drug you,” Louis snorted, pressing the bottle into Liam’s hand.
“Good to know. Jesus, Lou, did you put this in the microwave? That’s disgusting.”
“Oh. Yeah, sorry, it’s been open for a bit.”
Liam was looking at him ever more carefully. “Why don’t you just go home, if you’re not feeling up to the party?” he asked as quietly as he could given the environment. “No one’s going to blame you if you do.”
It was tempting, given how he was approximately 3000% done with watching Ed try to charm Harry- and watching it work. But- “I can’t. I can’t ditch Harry like that, I told him I wouldn’t leave him on his own with a party full of people he didn’t know.”
“I’ll stay with him,” Liam offered at once. “I was gonna stay until the end anyways, since I got here late.”
“Are you- are you sure?”
“Positive. You can go if you want, I promise I’ll take care of Harry.”
Ordinarily, there was no one that Louis could trust to do a job as well as him, and a job as important as the protection and nurturing of Harry wasn’t one he’d want botched. But if there was another person on this earth capable of it, it was Liam. And Liam he trusted implicitly.
“Yeah, I think I will,” he sighed, smiling up at his best friend. “You’re coming back to the dorm tonight, yeah?”
“Definitely. I’m having lunch with me mum tomorrow, I can’t afford to be crashing on couches tonight.”
“I’ll see you when you get back then. Or in the morning, probably. Don’t be a twat and wake me up or anything.” Louis turned to Harry, and gave him a gentle nudge. “Sorry to interrupt, but- I’m gonna go. I’m, er, tired.”
“Oh, okay,” Harry cheerfully replied. “Let me just throw my bottle away-”
“No, you don’t have to leave. Liam’s here, so you won’t be alone or anything-”
But Harry is already standing and striding off to find a rubbish bin, so Louis sighs and stands as well. “Later, man,” he says to Ed, who’s standing and looking a little uncomfortable with his hands in his pockets.
When he returns, bright-eyed Harry makes sure to exchange numbers with his new friend. Louis babbles something to Liam and pretends he doesn’t feel like scowling.
“You really didn’t have to leave,” he says when they’re walking out of the dorm complex.
“I didn’t want you to be walking home by yourself,” comes Harry’s reply.
“What, you’re going to protect me from muggers and other miscreants of the night?” Louis’ snort is a little derisive. “You couldn’t fight off a butterfly.”
“I could fight off a mugger!” Harry said, quite offended. “I’m really tall, and I work out all the time-”
“Yeah, but would you actually take a swing at another person? Harry, you rotate what pen you use so that all the ones in your bag get equal treatment. I really doubt you’re going to be punching out muggers.”
“Oh. Is that- bad?”
Harry’s light is fading, Louis can hear it in his voice. “No, of course not,” he rushes to assure the younger lad, setting his grumpiness aside. “You’re just a gentle spirit, that’s all. That’s why I’ll drop you off at your place before I go back to mine.”
“Is that safe? You’re gentle, too.”
“Not that gentle,” laughed Louis. “Besides, I have neck tattoos. No one mugs a guy with neck tattoos.”
Harry laughs, and it’s all okay, even if Louis can’t muster more than vague mumbles in response to Harry’s excited chatter about Ed the whole way home. There’s a bounce in his step that Louis’ never seen before, so he takes it in quite carefully. He briefly wonders whether Harry ever gushed about him that way, but pushes that thought away as quickly as it comes.
“Well, here we are,” Harry says awkwardly when they’re outside his and Zayn’s door.
“Yeah, I’ve been here before. I know.”
“Right.”
What is this, a first date? Louis thinks to himself with a barely-contained smirk. An awkward night, an uncomfortable pause outside the door… is this the part where they both wonder whether to kiss?
He settles instead of fondly thumbing the dimple on Harry’s cheek. It gets deeper under his touch, as Harry smiles ever wider. “What’s that for?”
“What? Nothing, nothing. Sorry, I’m drunk. Goodnight, Harry,” he says as he backs away, still smiling to himself.
“Goodnight Lou,” Harry quietly replies. “Be safe.”
The idea of first date awkwardness with Harry continues to rattle around in Louis’ head on the trip home, and during his shower, and as he crawls into bed. It only gets stranger the more he dwells on it- Harry and him? They could never- he wouldn’t- they were just friends.
“Don’t be fucking weird, Lou,” he mumbled to the ceiling. And with that, he rolled over, pulled the blankets around his shoulder, and shut out the world in favor of thoughtless sleep.
…………………
It probably shouldn’t have upset Louis that much, to hear Harry say that he was going to Ed’s show. I mean, duh. Of course he was. Ed was a musician. Harry loved music. They’d been texting each other nonstop, they were friends. There was pretty much no universe in which Harry would not go to Ed’s show, when news came that he was playing a small gig on the other side of London. Of course Harry was going. To get upset over that was absolutely crazy.
Louis felt absolutely crazy.
The first sign of trouble should have been that he didn’t let Liam know where he was going when he grabbed his wallet and his coat and left. He always told Liam- always. The man was half his roommate and half his mother, and he always got so worried when Louis stormed off in a mood. Even though Louis spent ninety-nine percent of his time being a little shit in order to piss Liam off, he never crossed that line of deliberately making him worry.
But tonight, he left no note, sent no text, made no courtesy call. It was probably because he didn’t really want to admit, even to his best mate, that he was planning on going to the nearest bar and drinking himself under the table- and why? Because he had an unexplainable shitty feeling about a perfectly nice guy that was flirting with his completely platonic pal.
And he definitely wouldn’t want to admit how familiar everyone at the bar was with him. “Tommo!” said the barkeep with a friendly smirk. “Been a while since I’ve seen you in here, eh? Thought you’d gone straight on me or sommat.”
“Dunno whether you’re talking about alcohol or making a joke about my sexuality, but the answer is an emphatic no. Give me your signature, yeah? Actually just go ahead and make two.”
“Strong?”
“If you’ve got the straight up ethanol that works.”
“One of those days?” asked the guy two barstools over. He looked friendly enough, maybe 28 or so, all dressed up in a dark suit with a neat grey tie. And he has green eyes, which happen to be Louis’ favorite. It helps convince him that he should be polite and answer back.
“One of those weeks, more like. Oh- thanks, Aaron.” He accepts the matching drinks- something mixed, a deep red and potent- when they’re handed to him, taking a gulp as soon as he could get one to his lips. “God, that burns,” he says, pulling a face. “I’ll be ordering about five more before the night’s through, just a head’s up.”
Aaron smirked again. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Louis was perfectly content to guzzle his drinks in silence- the faster he drank, the sooner he’d be drunk and forgetting the nasty feeling in his stomach- but the guy down the bar was undeterred. “I take it you’re a regular?” he tried again.
“What tipped you off? I mean, isn’t everyone on a first name basis with their bartender?”
“Well, that and the fact that you’re talking about downing seven of those. I can smell it from here. Is that gasoline mixed with fruit punch, or what?” Louis nodded- halfway through his second, he could definitely confirm those were the contents. “You’re just a tiny little thing, so if you’re going to drink all that, and this guy’s going to serve it to you… you must have an incredible liver.”
“I’m popular with the Irish students, yeh,” Louis grinned, pushing his empty glasses forward for Aaron to collect and refill- which he did, wordlessly. That was why this happened to be his favorite bar: he’d trained the staff out of even trying to lecture him about the pace he set or the amount he consumed. They let him get as drunk as he wanted, and in return he purchased large quantities of overpriced alcohol from them on a fairly regular basis.
“I’m Eric,” Stranger said, stretching out a hand to Louis.
The alcohol hadn’t hit Louis’ system yet, which meant he was sober enough to internally roll his eyes. Yes, because it’s not completely obvious that you’re hitting on me. He shook the hand anyways. “Louis. Thank you for not asking if I come here often. The way you phrased it was a refreshing change of pace.”
“People actually use that line still?”
“More often than you’d think.” Drink number three, and there was just the tiniest hint of vertigo pulling at Louis when he turned his head. “I just count it as a victory every time I make it through a drinking session without hearing one of the punny ones. I’m obviously not from Tennessee, I’m fucking British. Horrible line.”
“You seem irritated. Did the fall from heaven not suit you? Kidding, geez,” laughed Eric when he saw Louis’ scowl. “I hope you laugh more at my jokes when you’re on drink seven than you are on drink four. Which, by the way, I’m impressed that you can stomach all that so fast.”
It was flirty enough that Louis knew that he should probably go ahead and shut the guy down. Why he was a near-thirty businessman hanging out in a gay bar that catered to college kids was a mystery, but obviously he had ideas about where this conversation with Louis was headed that were not in line with Louis’ own plans. Which is not to say that he was, in general, opposed to those types of plans. He was a bit of a partyboy, to be honest, and the bulk of his sexual encounters were one night stands with various guys involving various amounts of alcohol. Which he was fine with, largely speaking. It’s not like sex was this huge, sacred thing- it was just sex. Sex was good. And more sex was more good, right?
But even as the alcohol starting sapping away his ability to follow the flow of his own logic, Louis realized that tonight, this was not his plan. He wasn’t seeking out sensation, he was seeking out oblivion. So he should shut Eric down, quickly and firmly, and save them all a load of confusion and mixed signals.
(Unfortunately, drink five was just around the corner, and that’s usually where Louis started talking way too much.)
“Well, if you’re such a fan of the cheesy lines, would you like to know what brings a girl like me to a bar like this?” Louis drawled after a pause and several sips.
“I only did it ironically! But sure, babe, why not.”
“M’not your babe, but I will freely admit that I came here tonight specifically to get so shitfaced that I can’t remember my own name. And Aaron’s a doll and won’t try to be a mum about it.”
“That’s certainly very nice of you, Aaron.” Eric smiled at the barkeep, who was handing over drinks five through six.
“It is,” Louis affirmed, his smile coming easier than it had all week. Mmm, bit floaty in here, wasn’t it? Or was that just him? “Aaron knows what I’m on about. Good lad, Aaron.”
“Back atcha, Lou.”
“Is it your average, everyday kind of binge drinking, or did someone try to chat you up in a spectacularly awful way and you’re trying very hard to forget it?” pushed Eric. He’s moved over to the stool right next to Louis’- a fact that Louis notices even on drink five.
“Sort of, but it’s not me that got chatted up.” It just sort of slips out.
“Uh oh. Someone hitting on your boyfriend?”
“No boyfriend, Eric, you sly thing,” Louis giggles. Why is he giggling? He doesn’t normally giggle, he’s pretty sure. Drink six is tasty.
“Then I’m confused,” Eric replies, though his smile doesn’t seem too concerned. “Who is it?”
“It’s my good mate Harry,” Louis informs him.
After that, things start getting a little fuzzy. It’s kind of hard to pay attention to Eric when there are so many things to look at. And so many people to text- Louis loves to text people when he’s drunk. Which he might be. The room seems a little less stable than usual, perhaps.
He does remember that it took a while to convince Aaron to give him drink seven, because apparently Louis seemed “out of practice” and “sort of like he might pass out.” Which is silly, because Louis feels fantastic. Better than ever, actually. Eventually he gets his seventh drink- Aaron is just so lovely, isn’t he?
And he also remembers wondering at some point whether Evan- that was his name, yeah?- was actually Christian Grey in disguise. He had a grey tie on. Maybe it was a hint. Maybe he would tie Louis up if he was very polite. Tie him up with a tie. Tie. That was funny, Louis was pretty positive.
Which is how he got to the point where, after drink seven was done and gone and Louis was swaying back and forth on his stool as he hummed a tune he didn’t know, he found himself simply charmed to death by Evan. “I like your tie, please,” he informed him seriously. “It’s lovely. Name it Aaron.”
“I have a lot of ties at home,” Evan said with a laugh. “Do you want to maybe come back to my place? I could show you all of them, if you like it so much.”
“Ties? What? I’m very confused. I don’t know why we’re talking about ties. Are we talking about ties?” Louis is very confused. He doesn’t know why Evan is talking about ties. Silly Evan. That’s silly.
The smile on the other man’s face is starting to falter. “You complimented my tie.”
“Oh. It’s nice.”
“Right.”
“Why do you like ties so much? You keep talking about them, I think. I’m not sure.”
“I’m not really even talking about ties-? I was just making a joke so I could have you back at my place.”
“Okay, but I need to be wearing panties when I meet your parents,” Louis informs him, because he’s pretty sure Christian is into that.
“Wh- what the fuck?”
“I just want to be honest with you, Amanda. I mean Amelia. No, wait. Anastasia.”
“I- my name is Eric…?”
And that just hurts Louis’ feelings, because- “You can’t just start roleplaying without telling me first, Annie. I don’t remember our safeword.”
Lovely Aaron swoops in. “Okay, Lou, I think you’re done for the night. Let’s call you a cab. If I were you,” he said warningly to Anna, “I’d just leave. He’s obviously plastered.”
Louis would tell him that he’s definitely not anywhere close to plastered, but he’s sort of forgotten what plastered means and anyways, Angela is gone so he’s trying very hard to focus on Aaron’s face instead. Lovely Aaron. Maybe he’ll get to drink eight if he smiles really hard. Yeah, that ought to work. Isn’t smiling funny? He should take a picture of that. Niall would think it’s funny. Yeah, Niall. He’ll take a picture of himself smiling, and then in the morning he and Niall can look at it and laugh because it’s just so-
He’s passed out before he even manages to get his phone out of his pocket.
………………….
It’s not the first time that Liam has gotten a late-night phone call from a bartender about Louis being too plastered to even tell the cabbie where he lives. Hell, that’s why he put that card in Louis’ wallet saying “IF DRUNK, PLEASE RETURN TO LIAM PAYNE” and listing his phone number. So much easier that way.
It is, however, the first time such a call has made him this relieved. Usually it meant that Liam was inconvenienced by having to go to whatever joint Louis was in that night to make sure he got safely home. But this night, it meant that at least he knew where Louis was. He hadn’t left a note- Louis always left a note.
“Yeah, no, I’ll come get him. Sorry about that. You’re off Banner Street, yeah? Got it. I’ll be by as soon as I can. Thanks. That was a bar, Louis’ there,” Liam informed Niall as he hung up the phone with a relieved sigh.
“Wasted?”
“Definitely. You want to come with me? You know how excited he is when drunk, not sure I can distract him enough to get him home.”
And Louis is excited when the two of them arrive. He’s been sat in a booth at the back with a cup of coffee so he won’t disturb anyone or fall off his stool. “Lads!” he exclaims. “I missed you so much. I love you. I missed you when you were gone!”
“We weren’t gone, Lou, we were at home. You were here, at the bar.” Niall helped the drunk stand on his feet with much assistance, while Liam went to make sure Louis’ tab was paid.
“Yes I was! I was having a drink with someone. I can’t remember who. But someone. And they wanted to take me home, but Lovely said no and he gave me coffee.”
“‘Lovely’?”
“Yes! He gave me a lot of drinks but then he made me have coffee.”
“The bartender,” Liam explained to Niall under his breath. “Said right after he cut Louis off he passed out at the bar, so they called me. “
Niall threw his head back and laughed. “Jesus, Lou. How drunk are you? Never knew you to be a lightweight.”
“He’s lucky he didn’t go home with whatever guy he says he was talking to,” Liam just says concernedly. “He’s so flirty when he’s drunk- it’s not like him to be the one being flirted with. Come on, Louis, you have to actually move your feet so we can walk you home.
“I’m not so very drunk,” Louis protested, head bouncing back and forth between the boys tucked under each arm, holding him up. “And of course I didn’t go home with him. He was all wrong. Not Harry enough.”
Liam laughed so hard he thought his throat would burst. “Did you just- did you just say he wasn’t hairy enough? What, was he bald or something?”
“No, not hairy. I meant Harry. Like Styles. Like Harry Styles. I like Harry Styles.”
A blissful little smile comes across Louis’ face as he says it, and when Liam’s eyes find Niall’s he sees that the other lad is just as shocked as he is. “Louis,” Liam said carefully. “Did you just say that you like Harry?”
“Well of course, Liam. Don’t be stupid. Harry makes my stomach flip flop. I want to tell him his eyes are pretty and snog his stupid face off.”
“What else do you want to do to him, eh?” Niall snickered.
“No, Niall, shut up,” muttered Liam. “I think he’s serious. Lou?”
“Of course I’m serious. Harry’s a beautiful… he’s a beautiful person. A beautiful boy. A beautiful boy person. And sometimes I think about him and I want to tie him to my bread. Bed. Not bread.”
“Please, please tell me I can record this-”
“Seriously, Niall, shut up!”
“And I want to take him out on dates, with wine and- oh god, not wine. Um. Movies. And buy him flowers. Harry would like flowers, don’t you think?” Louis slurred, undeterred. “Only from me though, not from anyone else. He would hate them from Ted. No flowers for Ted.”
Liam and Niall traded confused glances around Louis’ stumbling figure. “Ted?”
“Gingers are stupid anyway!”
“Oh, you mean Ed,” grinned Liam as realization dawned on him. “I didn’t know there was something going on between Ed and Haz.”
“Wait, what?” Louis cried, stopping in his tracks. “There’s something- there’s- what?”
They were at the door to the dorm room already, so Niall propped up the now-distressed drunk while Liam got the door. “Shh, it’s okay, Lou. He wasn’t saying there was, he was asking you, mate. Is Harry into Ed?”
“I don’t like Ed.”
“Why not? He seems like a good lad-”
“Why does everyone think that?” With a dramatic sigh, Louis climbed on top of the kitchen table and sprawled out like the distance between his alcohol-numbed hands could encompass the expanse of his agony. “Okay, so maybe he’s really nice, and like, smart. And a musician or whatever. But why do people have to like him? My people. My people like him more than me.”
“You mean your Harry likes him more than you.”
Louis just stuck out his bottom lip in pathetic reply.
Liam came and sat in a chair near Louis’ head, so he could look his friend earnestly in the eye. “Louis, I know you’re absolutely pissed right now, but come on. Ed’s a catch, you know? I think if Harry wants to start something with him, you should be happy for them.”
“You’re right. Ed is a catch,” Louis eventually sniffled. “But aren’t I a catch, too? Why can’t I be his catch?”
If it weren’t for the fact that Louis was so drunk he couldn’t lie still and so distressed he couldn’t shut up, Liam might have laughed. But in the end, the fine print of the best friend contract said that if Louis needed someone to tell him whether his sonnets about curly hair were good, Liam was the man for the job. So he and Niall sat there for hours with their poor, lovestruck mate, waiting for him to pass out again so they could drag him to bed and leave him to his morning after misery. That’s what friends were for.
(Besides, someone had to be there to film the sonnets. That was blackmail gold.)
…………………
Louis came to the next morning with his head in the toilet and zero recollection of how he got there. All he knew for the moment was that the tile beneath him was possibly moving, whatever he’d been drinking was even worse on the way back up, and he really, really needed to clean the bathroom more often.
The sound of the flush summoned Liam, who came in armed with paracetamol and water. “Morning, princess,” he says very quietly, much to Louis’ relief. “On a scale from one to ‘check me into rehab,’ how shit do you feel?”
“Shoot me in the face.”
“Oh, good, now Niall owes me a tenner. He thought you’d handle it better, but you haven’t binge drank in like three months. I knew you’d be rusty!”
“Glad to be of service, you dick.”
“Hey, be nice to him,” Niall chided from the doorway. “We’re the ones who sat up all night with your drunk arse so you didn’t hurt yourself. And we have video evidence, so.”
“Video evidence of what?”
“Do you remember anything about what happened last night?”
The bathroom is coming into focus a little better now, but anything before then is still a blur. “Please, just tell me there isn’t a tiger anywhere in this flat,” Louis mumbled as he accepted Liam’s offering of hangover relief.
Niall, for his part, was enjoying this all too much. “You had loose lips last night, Tommo. Told us all about your lady love.”
“My lady love? Jesus Christ, if I was hitting on something that didn’t have a dick, I swear to god I’m never drinking again-”
“Nah, mate. Harry.”
Louis froze. Both boys were standing over him, watching his face with amused smiles and mischievous glints in their eyes. “H- what?” he finally managed to stutter.
“You were way past ‘one too many,’ and you sort of forgot how to keep a secret,” Liam kindly informed him. “So. We know all about your feelings for Harry.”
“No. No, god no, I don’t- I don’t have feelings for Harry,” Louis said as firmly as he could manage past the renewed turmoil in his stomach.
“Your drunk handwriting is kind of shit, to be fair, but you wrote a poem about his ass on your notebook if you want to see that.”
“When did you get so vindictive, Niall?”
“Since you disappointed me. Seven mixed drinks and you’re blackout drunk? Come on, Louis, you’re better than that!”
“Seven very strong, very mixed drinks,” pled Louis a little desperately. “And fine. Maybe I have a certain admiration for Harry’s ass. I think we can all agree it’s enticing.”
The straight men in the room traded glances.
“Okay, just take my word for it. But anyways, the point is, I can find someone attractive without having feelings for them. So if you could kindly fuck off about Harry, I’d thank you not to make things weird.”
But the faces of his friends were moving from amusement to pity now in a manner that Louis did not like one bit. Liam sat on the tile next to him and patted a bare ankle in the gentlest way. “Louis, I hate to break it to you, but… you’re not just attracted to Harry. That ship has sailed.”
“I had one wet dream about the guy-”
“First of all, that’s too much information. Second of all… you kept singing love ballads and putting his name in them. You kept calling Niall ‘Harry’ and tried to kiss him.”
“And that was before you asked me to marry you,” Niall added helpfully.
“Right you are. But it was after he spent half an hour brainstorming ways to push Ed down a flight of stairs.”
“Ed? Why the fuck would I want to push Ed down the stairs?”
“Because you think Harry likes him and it made you jealous.”
They say it all with too serious an air to just be fucking with him, Louis knows. Which is almost worse, because- “I said all that? And did all that? But I don’t… I don’t have feelings for Harry. Absolutely not. I was just really, really drunk. That’s all.”
A quiet staredown ensues before Liam hauls himself off the bathroom floor and shrugs. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself, mate, then go for it. But I know you. And I know that you’re kidding yourself if you don’t admit that you’re in deep for that kid.”
“Niall, help me out here,” Louis said in one final, desperate plea. “Tell Liam that kind of stuff doesn’t count when you’re drunk!”
“Sorry, mate, but I’m with Payno. You’re toast. Just stop kidding yourself before you lose it and actually push someone to their death, yeah?”
Louis was still a little nauseous when he went to bed that night. It might not have been the alcohol, either.