It had to have been Liam who spilled the beans about Louis’ birthday. Niall was still smarting from the friendly punch to the arm Louis gave him after the last secret he blabbed. December 24th had arrived and who should appear on the Teasdale doorstep with birthday balloons but Harry “deliberately wasn’t told but somehow knew anyways” Styles.
“I went through his phone, don’t be mad,” Harry said with a grin before Louis could open his mouth. “He wouldn’t tell me so I looked for myself.”
“You’re ridiculous,” replied Louis with a roll of his eyes, even as he accepted the hug and the balloons Harry offered. “I didn’t want you to know because I knew you’d make a fuss.”
“Of course I’m going to! You’re turning 22-”
“Fuck that,” Louis laughed. “I’m getting old. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t you be off doing Christmas things?”
“No, I should be here, giving you your birthday present. It’s wrinkle cream, by the way,” he added slyly. “Since you’re getting on in years and all.”
It wasn’t, of course, when Louis was coerced to open it. It was an anklet made of woven black cord with a little silver plaque that read simply, The Prince. “I figured you’re kind of like Prince Charming, always swooping in to save damsels in distress,” Harry quietly explained. “If you don’t like it, I can return it, I just thought it was cute-”
“I love it,” Louis said honestly. It was heartfelt, creative, and completely unnecessary. In other words, the perfect gift. Add that to a nickname (sort of) from Harry, and he was satisfied.
Harry was not. “So what do you want to do now, birthday boy? What are the big plans?””
“Nothing. I’m serious, I don’t want any fuss. Yeah?”
“Why not?” Harry frowned, staring Louis down in concern. “What’s so bad about celebrating your birthday? You love when people pay attention to you.”
Yeah, but if I’m not careful I’ll forget it’s just birthday kindness and not you loving me the way I love you. It’s easier to stay cool about this if I keep my distance, and if I stay cool then you don’t get dragged through my shit. So if no party means you get out unscathed, I’ll just sit at home, thanks.
“Told you, I’m getting old,” laughed Louis.
Harry let it drop after that- he was starting to get good at knowing both when Louis was avoiding something and when it was worth it to even try to push. Maybe he just wanted to let Louis have his way since it was his birthday, but in any case he allowed Louis to just hang out on Lou’s couch all day with Harry by his side and no mention of festivities whatsover.
“I’m bored,” Louis chirped when afternoon was fading into evening. Lou and Tom were starting to talk about Christmas Eve dinner, and he thought he’d heard ‘cake’ tossed around. Which was a very strong cue that it was time for him to duck out and avoid fuss.
“What do you want to do?” was Harry’s immediate reply. “I don’t have any plans for tonight, so whatever you feel like doing, I’m in. If you want me to be, I mean.”
“Of course, yeah. You’re behaving yourself and not mentioning the day, so you may tag along on my great escape.”
“Your great- what are you escaping?”
Lou chose that exact moment to pop her head around the corner from the kitchen and say, “We don’t have the right candles to make 22, so you’ll just have to have 22 small candles. That okay?”
“Whatever’s fine,” Louis replied. “We’re escaping that,” he added under his breath when she was gone again.
Harry gave him a very stern, disapproving look. “They’re being nice and making you a cake. Shouldn’t you stay?”
“I promise I’ll come back and eat the cake, mum. I just- I have to get out, okay?” Louis whispered a little desperately. “I feel like I’m suffocating. Regular attention is fine. Special attention makes it hard to breathe. If you want to stay, though, that’s fine-”
“No way, I’m coming with you,” Harry smiled. “You’re acting weird, so we’ll probably have an adventure or something.”
Louis did feel quite adventurous, when they’d snuck out into the snowy dusk with only a note to mark their exit. “It’s fucking freezing out here,” he mumbled in a half-laugh, trying to hide his face from the harsh, biting cold of the wind. “Why did we think this was a good idea?”
“Dunno, it was yours to start with. Unlock the car, please, I can’t feel my fingers.”
“I’ll do the petals, but you’re going to have to steer,” Louis joked once they were in and the heat was on full blast. “I’m not taking my hands out of my pockets.”
“Neither am I. This was a terrible idea.” Harry’s teeth were chattering just from the 60 seconds they spent outside.
Louis smiled into the scarf he’d wound around his face. “This reminds me of a song I wrote once. Had some awful cheesy line in it about being ready to leave with nowhere to go.”
“Yeah? Sing it for me!”
“Can’t. I’ll let all my warmth out and die of hypothermia. Besides, it won’t sound right without piano.”
“You told me ages ago you’d play for me, but you never have,” Harry gently reminded him. “I’ve been waiting very patiently.”
“Yes you have,” Louis conceded graciously. “You want me to play for you now? Well not now, but- shall we go somewhere that I can?”
“Are you serious? Yeah, sure!”
Harry was lit up like a Christmas tree. It was worth the possible frostbite on Louis’ fingers as he drove them back across town to campus. “Well at least we don’t have to worry about finding a spot in the car park,” chirped Louis, surveying the ghost town that was King’s College.
“Is the music department even open?” Harry asked hesitantly. “It looks like everything’s shut down for Christmas Eve…”
“It is.”
“‘It is’ open, or ‘it is’ closed?”
“Closed. Come on, I’m cold.”
“But why are we here if it’s closed?” Harry protested, even as he obediently got out and followed Louis across the snow.
“Well it isn’t closed to us, I know how to get in. Oh, don’t look so shocked,” he laughed at Harry’s dumbfounded expression. “You just have to know all the right -or wrong, I guess- people. Like the guy who knows the security cameras on this wing’s circuits don’t work, and the kid who tapes the back door open so he can come out here to smoke during lectures without getting locked out.”
“That’s horrible,” Harry said firmly. “And illegal.”
“The smirk on your face doesn’t look too horrified. You coming in out of the cold, or what?”
Harry laughed and obeyed without any further argument. Even with the heat turned down while the building was meant to be empty, the carpets and acoustic tiles of the music wing kept it feeling relatively warm. Louis navigated the space with ease, having spent a good portion of his time here over the last three years. Put a musician in a dorm room too small for even a keyboard and he’d find a way to make music anyways.
“Here we are,” Louis announced boldly as they approached the baby grand tucked into one corner. “Not the best spot acoustically, but it works.”
When he turned around to look, Harry was already sitting on the floor next to the bench, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap like a kid at storytime. “I think it’s lovely. So what’s this song of yours called?”
Louis winced as he realized an important oversight- music. “I don’t have my sheet music with me,” he groaned. “And I don’t have that one memorized. Shit!”
“Oh.” Harry’s disappointment was obvious, but he smiled sadly as he stood. “Another time, then.”
“Well, I could- I could play you something else, if you’d like,” Louis offered quickly. “I’ve got a couple songs memorized. If you want, that is.”
Harry just smiled quietly. “Whatever you’ve got, I’d love to hear.”
“Okay, um. I’m probably a little rusty, I haven’t played this one in a while.”
“I’m sure you’re fantastic.”
“Don’t laugh or anything.”
“Of course not. It’s no big deal, Lou, I’m just excited to hear you play.”
Yeah, no big deal except performing in front of the man you’re in love with when you know he’s talented himself and you really, really want to impress him.
“Alright, Harry, don’t pout about it or anything. Um. Here we go.”
Louis’ fingers moved of their own accord across the keys, dancing out the tune that his muscles had learned long ago. It was one of the first songs he’d taught himself to play, before he’d ever gotten lessons or read music. He’d just sat himself down one day with a song stuck in his head and determination in his eyes and made it happen. Now here it was coming back to serve him all these years later.
“If I don’t say this now, I will surely break, as I’m leaving the one I wanna take. Forget the urgency, but hurry up and wait. My heart is starting to separate…” It feels good, to have music coming effortlessly out of his mouth and his hands. It’s simple, no feelings or complications or ‘shoulds.’ Just him and a piano and an honest declaration.
“Oh, oh, be my baby, and I’ll look after you.”
When the final chord thrummed in the air and faded away in the stillness of the room, Louis finally dared to look at his audience of one. Harry was leaning against the side of the piano with a wide smile and eyes that glittered with happiness. “That was fantastic, Lou!” he whispered, like talking too loudly would disturb the moment. “You’re a natural at playing, and your voice is so- warm, and- really, really good.”
Harry came around the side of the piano and leaned down to pull Louis into a hug so tight he could hardly breathe. “Thank you, Harry,” he whispered when the younger boy had let go.
“No, thank you,” Harry smiled in return. “That was wonderful. I didn’t expect to be getting presents, since it’s your bir- erm, Christmas Eve,” he added cheekily.
“If you keep that up, I’ll make you walk home.” An empty threat, of course, and Harry’s snicker confirmed he knew it. Louis felt the best he’d felt all day. “But. You’re welcome. I guess.”
“No problem. Now- do you take requests?”
………….
Watching Lux open presents Christmas morning with unrivaled enthusiasm sort of reminds Louis about everything good and pure in the world, even at the same time it was making him miss his own little ones back home. Call him a sucker for his little sisters, but he’d been saving up the last eight paychecks to buy them all the best presents. He just had a thing for watching little faces light up, okay?
His bags were already packed for the train, which left at noon from the station there in London. Two hours later and he’d be back in Doncaster with his family and he was starting to count the minutes.
(Harry, 10:14 AM) Hiiiiii. Merry Christmas!!
(Louis, 10:15 AM) Morning! Merry Christmas to you, too, babe
(Harry, 10:16 AM) Are you on the train yet??
(Louis, 10:18 AM) Nahh, doesn’t leave til noon! I’m just hanging out here til then.
(Harry, 10:19 AM) Do you want to hang out here instead? I’m just watching TV, and Zayn just left to go to a friend’s place so I’m alone on Christmas
(Louis, 10:20 AM) A crime! Yeah, sure :) I was gonna drop your present on the way to the sta, didn’t want to ruin your xmas plans!
(Harry, 10:22 AM) Well you’re welcome to ruin any and all plans :)
Louis made his farewells to the Teasdales -who were gracious enough not to mention that ducking out early to hang out with Harry was starting to become a habit- and drove through the snowy Christmas quiet in the London streets until he was outside Harry’s building. He was extra careful not to slip on the ice coating the stairs, lest he fall to his death- or worse, drop Harry’s present into a snowbank.
“Merry Christmas!” Harry declared again with childlike enthusiasm as he answered the door. “I made hot chocolate. And pancakes. You probably already ate, but my mum always made me pancakes on Christmas, so-”
“There’s always room for pancakes,” Louis firmly replied. “And hot chocolate might bring back the feeling in my fingers, so I’m on board with that too. You might have to feed them to me, though, I’m not sure I can hold a fork just yet.”
Harry laughed, and as soon as he’d thawed out Louis helped himself to the heaping plate of pancakes Harry put before him. “These are fantastic,” he mumbled around a mouthful when he was halfway through the stack. “I think I’m going to throw up. But. Fantastic.”
“Don’t throw up, we haven’t done presents yet!” Harry beamed, then went into the bedroom and returned with his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he commanded.
“Seriously?” Louis whined, even as his eyes fluttered shut in obedience. “You already got me a present, you didn’t have to get me another.”
“Yeah, but that was for your birthday. This is for Christmas! And… open your eyes.”
Louis did, to find a framed drawing that he recognized at once to be Zayn’s handiwork. It was him, all bright blue eyes and knowing smile, donned in a superhero outfit of blue and silver. The chest was a giant question mark, and beautiful script beneath the figure read, Smarter than your average genius, more nosey than the Spanish, able to read small minds in a single glance, it’s-
THE TOMMO.
He burst into startled laughter and looked at Harry in delight. “This is brilliant! Did Zayn come up with this himself?”
“I came up with it, actually,” Harry proudly declared. “Zayn just drew it. Do you like it?”
“This is brilliant, Harry, really. I fucking love it! Always wanted to be a superhero, and now I am,” teased Louis. “I’m going to hang this up in my dorm room, this is seriously sick.”
Harry only beamed his pleasure.
“Have showed up my present for you, though,” Louis tacked on. “Should have known you’d outdo me.”
“Oh? What’s mine?”
“Boots, exactly like the ones you had but wore holes through. Yes, I noticed. I notice everything, dork. Including your shoe size, so they should fit.”
“Thanks, Louis,” Harry blushed when he pulled them out of the box. “For the shoes and for, like, noticing. It’s really sweet.”
“That’s me- smart, attentive, and apparently very nosey.”
“I was only joking! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, I just meant that you were always asking questions and stuff-”
“I’m teasing,” Louis interrupted with a laugh before Harry could get too worked up. “I promise. Now, what else do you do on Christmas?”
Louis absolutely refused to go freeze his arse off making a snowman - “I’ve got a train ride in an hour, Harry, I’m not going to soak through my clothes now!” -so they settled instead on watching the claymation Rudolph on TV while they finished all of the hot chocolate in the flat. There was a happy warmth in Louis’ heart that made him feel like he was glowing all over. He ignored it and scooched a little closer to Harry- it’s Christmas, after all.
Something catches his eye from across the room during a commercial break and makes him burst into laughter. “Is that mistletoe?” he asked delightedly as he pointed to the cluster of green above the bedroom door.
“Zayn says it is, but I googled it and I think that’s just moss,” Harry said doubtfully, pulling a face at the offending bunch. “He put it up as a joke and keeps trying to kiss me every time we’re even remotely near it. Not in a weird way, though, just like, cheek kisses,” he hastened to add.
“There’s mistletoe involved so it’s automatically not weird,” Louis informed him. “Just for the record. I’ve never been kissed under mistletoe, actually. Unless it happened at that one holiday party that I got too drunk to remember, but I don’t think that counts anyways.”
“Me neither,” Harry quietly added after a second. “I never… Thomas was my first boyfriend, and he didn’t, um, he didn’t allow kissing.”
All of the warmth drained right out of Louis as he stared at the younger boy in shock. “Not, like, in public, or-?”
“Never. I never kissed Thomas, not in our whole eight months together. He said it was too intimate, and he didn’t… he didn’t want to be intimate with me.”
Suddenly it all makes sense to Louis. Why Harry’s world had crumbled when he saw Thomas kissing another woman, why he’d mumbled over and over again that he kissed her, he kisses her before he goes. The clumsiness of his mouth the night he kissed Louis, the horror when he pulled away and thought he’d ruined his friendship with Louis forever. These were all puzzle pieces falling together into one enormous, tearful picture.
“You guys did sexual stuff, but he never let you kiss him?” Louis asked quietly.
“No, never. I’m nineteen and I’ve never even been kissed- how embarrassing is that?” Harry tacked on with a dry smile.
Louis started digging deep to find a sense of humor hiding somewhere beneath the weight on his chest. “Well you’ve kissed me, haven’t you? And neither of us blacked out so it counts.”
The blush on Harry’s face tripled in darkness. “That doesn’t- that didn’t count!” he rushed to say. “Cause it wasn’t like, romantic. And definitely not a proper snog.”
“Yeah, alright, fair enough. You’re missing out though,” he teased as gently as he could.
It makes Harry get very quiet, so quiet that Louis starts fretting that he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross. But Harry’s just picking at his sleeve and searching for words, because after a long pause he just quietly says, “You could show me how.”
There isn’t even time for the words to sink into Louis’ stunned brain before more words are tumbling out of Harry’s mouth. “I mean, you're probably really good at it, because you're so popular and experienced and… I dunno.”
Louis didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. “Harry, I- I, um-”
"I shouldn't have asked. Sorry. I know you don't want to kiss me or anything, it was rude to say." Harry was instantly contrite, his eyes teary and glued to the ground in a way that was never, ever Louis’ intention.
"It's alright, I'm not mad,” he soothed, because he wasn’t. How could he be mad at such an earnest question, all wrapped up in compliments and blushes and honesty? It was just that his brain was completely occupied with trying to think of a single reason why he should say no… and for the moment, coming up empty.
So when a quiet voice confessed, "It’s just… you were kidding, before, but. I am. Missing out. I feel like I've missed out on something important, being 19 and never being kissed. And I just… I probably shouldn’t have said it, but I think I really meant it."
That just sort of seals the deal.
“Okay,” he says softly as he turns to sit sideways on the couch. “Face me.”
“Wh- what?”
“If you really want me to, I’ll be your first kiss.”
It was Harry’s turn now to glow, his face alight with excitement. Louis expected denials, or questions, or anything, but Harry was wordless as he moved to sit as Louis instructed. Maybe he didn’t dare to question it. Louis knew the feeling.
Harry’s still as a mouse as Louis scoots a little closer, until their knees bump on the couch between them. He jumps at the touch, so Louis lays a soothing hand on his leg. “Relax, babe, it’s alright,” he said calmly. “Don’t freak out, okay?”
“Okay.”
Louis reaches both hands up to cup Harry’s face, featherlight touches. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he reminds himself.
“Okay,” Harry replies breathlessly. He leans in towards Louis like subtle instinct.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Okay.”
At first when Louis kisses him, Harry is still and quiet beneath his lips. He is held in suspense, not daring to move, not daring to think too loudly lest the dream shatters and reality fails to live up. So Louis moves his lips on Harry’s, slowly, quietly, coaxing until finally there was movement and life and breath again. Harry was melting into him, sighing into his mouth, and everything felt right.
“That okay?” Louis asked faintly when he had to pull back for air.
“Y-yeah. That’s was r-really great,” Harry returned. “Are you, um. You said you’d teach me?”
It feels silly at first, to be murmuring instructions on how to move his lips, how gently to suck, how to tease with caresses of the tongue or grazes of the teeth. It feels silly, because kissing is instinct, and Harry is growing more confident every second until Louis has nothing left to teach him. But if it kept Harry’s mouth on his, he might say just about anything.
The words stop. The kisses don’t. Louis is cradling Harry’s head with one hand while the other grips the back of the couch for dear life. It’s as much Harry kissing him now as the other way around, and Louis doesn’t protest. It’s like the longer he’s in contact with Harry’s skin, the less his mind works and the more difficult it becomes to remember why he hasn’t been doing this all along.
Why did he ever think it was wrong when it felt so fucking right?
It doesn’t help that Harry’s kissing is basically perfect. How often is it that you get to mould your lover into someone who kisses exactly the way you like to be kissed? It was the perfect amount of pressure, just the right pull. Flawless. If there had been any doubt before, it was gone now. Louis was lost in the moment, just enjoying the feel of skin on his, the touch of lips, the intimacy of being near someone that he loved.
Louis almost didn’t notice when he started to push harder against Harry’s mouth, when they started to mesh together at more than just the lips, when he started to lean Harry back until he was lying on his back with Louis hovering above him. Louis’ hand got tangled in Harry’s hair, pulling his head back without the idea even penetrating the fuzz of his mind.
Harry was responding. He was flushed all over, his heartbeat thudding in his ears and hands gripping Louis’ shirt for dear life. Every time Louis’ mouth left his, he was panting for air, like he was running a marathon instead of lying underneath someone. When he could spare the energy, he tried to keep in the breathy little whimpers that kept slipping out against his will.
The noises enchanted Louis. They were like something out of a dream… the dream. The first time Harry had ever captivated him at night like he did during the day, and here he was like dream incarnate, just as recklessly undone as he had been in Louis’ mind. He really can’t help himself. Louis’ mouth travels from lips to jaw, to behind the ear, roaming over Harry’s throat in search of a spot that might make Harry keen like he always had in Louis’ imagination-
Maybe he’s found it, because all of a sudden the trembling mess of a boy beneath him goes from shaking to still and the hands on his waist clench tighter and he’s moaning Louis’ name in a way that could be heaven or possibly sin itself.
And it might not even have been earthshattering enough to make Louis stop his sweet assault on Harry’s skin, if it weren’t for the fact that the boy was now slack beneath his touch. He could feel that same pulse pounding away in the veins beneath his lips, but there were no more hands on his waist. No more whimpers. Only quiet, and something was very wrong.
The wide-eyed look of horror on Harry’s face pretty much confirmed it.
Instantly, Louis is pressed up against the opposite arm of the couch, as far away from Harry as possible. “I don’t- I, um-” But what was there to say? I’m sorry that I forgot myself for a minute and made it my goal to unravel you even though we’ve set boundaries and we’re strictly pals haha oops.
But even as embarrassed as he is, he can’t hope to compare to the mortification on Harry’s face. He’s an inch from tears, if not closer. His hands are shaking, and beneath the flush of his skin he is paler than he’s ever been. It looked a little like…
“Harry? What’s the matter, babe, you look terrified,” Louis asked gently, in case words might make Harry crumble or something.
“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered. “That was- I’m so embarrassed. Oh my god.”
Words continue to get stuck in Louis’ head before he can find some to push out, regardless of whether they’re the right ones. “Oh. Um, don’t be. It was me, I’m the one who got all into it, that was my bad.”
“No, I’m not- I’m not talking about that.”
“Then- what?”
Harry’s teeth worried at his already-swollen lip before slowly, tearfully, he reached down to lift up the hem of his shirt with one shaking hand. The other tugs down the waistband of his jeans just enough so that Louis can see the mess of cum smeared across Harry’s hipbone.
Oh.
There’s not a single damn thing that Louis can think of to say. He stares for a few long, tense seconds. As soon as he can remember things about legs working to move bodies to different places and stuff like that, he’s standing and striding quietly to the bathroom. He returns with a warm, damp washcloth that he wordlessly hands over.
He looks away while Harry cleans himself off and waits for him to say something, since Louis is still beyond stumped. Finally, he does. “I'm so sorry that I- you probably didn't want me to, um..."
That, at least, snapped Louis out of his internal monologue of you fucked up oh shit you idiot fucked up fucked up fucked UP to jump to his own condemnation. "No, this is my fault. I let that go way too far. I was supposed to be teaching you how to kiss, not... freaking getting you off,” he said firmly. It’s never felt dirtier on his tongue.
He gets surer as the frenzy of his mind settles down into neat apologies and tidy explanations. “I shouldn't be sending you mixed signals like this, it isn't fair,” he explains with only a little misery. “I don't even know what this means, how could you?”
"Does it... does it have to mean anything? Can't it just be something good that happened?"
Louis actually laughs out loud at that. What must it be like, to have such a pure and simple view of the world? "Of course it has to mean something. Everything always does."
"Okay. But can it mean something good?"
That’s just it; it inarguably can’t.
"Harry, do you know what I have a reputation for around campus?” Louis forced out past the enormous lump in his throat. “A reputation for never going past the first night. I'm like, a professional at getting guys off and then never talking to them again. How could this possibly be a good thing?"
"You said you liked me. Even if you didn't think it was okay to date yet, this doesn't mean- this doesn't have to be-"
The fear gushing out of the dark recesses of Louis’ mind cuts off Harry’s hope as soon as it begins. "But what if it does, Harry? What if I've just crossed a line and fucked it all up? I can't even begin to count all of the ways this could go wrong." This is it you’ve ruined it all you’re going to ruin him you’re no good taking advantage all wrong not enough too much fuck fuck fuck-
And Harry just doesn’t understand. "So don't count them."
"I have to."
"You don't-"
"I do.”
"Can't you just for one minute shut off your stupid brain and stop analyzing the life out of everything?!"
In reality, Harry’s voice is just below a shout. But it’s plenty loud enough to echo around in Louis’ head. Truth has a way of doing that.
“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered, horrified all over again on a whole new level. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t- I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s- you’re right. Um, I should go.”
“No, don’t,” Harry pled. “I didn’t mean it. I can’t believe I even said that, I’m just being stupid and mean and-”
“You’re being honest,” Louis corrected with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “And I have a train to catch.”
Harry stutters about fifteen more apologies before Louis is out the door, but Louis can’t find the energy to respond to any of them. He feels a little empty. It makes him shiver worse than the snow.
He’s already on the train by the time he realizes that he forgot his present at Harry’s. The twinge of regret that brings is the first thing he’s felt in an hour.