Pressure

Take The Hint

Song: Los Vas A Olvidar By Billie Eilish
That way by Tate McRae

It was uncommon for Louis to wake up before Harry. He was used to the meditation music, blinds being pulled wide open, hands shaking his shoulders or knees bracketing his hips. Over the past few months since meeting him, Louis had ditched the alarms on his phone with the knowledge that some way or another, Harry would wake him up.

This morning though, it was Louis who opened his eyes first. Instead of Harry waking him up, maybe it was the blinding light shining through the windows after yet another night of forgetting to close the blinds, maybe it was the loud chatter drifting up the stairs from the kitchen, where he assumed breakfast was already being served, or maybe it was Lola, who was purring on the pillow above his head.

Whatever it was, it wasn't Harry; because Harry's back was pressed against his chest, legs tangled under the sheets with Louis' arms wrapped around his waist like a vice. His shoulders were rising and falling in steady breaths, hunched up towards his neck with one hand grasping Louis' wrist, and the other tucked up under his chin. He was still asleep as far as Louis was aware, quite contently at that.

His first instinct was to move away, like he did that morning back at the hotel. Affections and luxuries such as cuddling didn't come naturally to him, though Harry often initiated hugs and soft touches, it wasn't ever something he was aware he enjoyed. His sisters gave him plenty of hugs, and he accepted them with open arms; but somehow this was different.

As of late, Harry seemed to be finding contact with him in any way he could. Sometimes it was discreet, subtle, just a hand on his shoulder or tugging at his arm, fingers brushing as he handed him something. Other times it was bold, pulling him around the room to dance or gripping him into a tight hug. Louis had noticed it but, until recently, he hadn't given it much thought.

He hoped, as he had assumed, that Harry was still sleeping. It could just be the warmth, the position, he could just pretend that he didn't want to wake Lola up just yet; but he didn't quite want to move away. Not yet. It was almost comforting to know that Harry wasn't aware of him pressed up against his back, and that Louis was enjoying it more than he'd like to admit. Harry probably wouldn't even mind, he knew, if anything he would press further into Louis' embrace. But, for Louis' benefit, if Harry didn't know then he couldn't question, and he couldn't think on it any harder.

Louis pressed his eyes shut and let his head dip forwards, forehead resting against the thin cotton of Harry's t-shirt. He could feel each breath he took as his back expanded against his chest, could feel Harry's fingers twitching every so often with the hold he had on Louis' wrist. The duvet had bunched up somewhere between their legs, and Louis realised at the soft touch of skin against his free hand that Harry's t-shirt had ridden up above his stomach.

He knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep again. As peaceful as it was, his thoughts couldn't seem to settle. The room was too bright and the noise from downstairs too loud, he faintly wondered if Gemma would make another appearance this morning, waking Harry and disturbing this moment that Louis didn't want to end. He wondered when would be the right moment to move, maybe before Harry wakes up to save himself any comments, or as he wakes up only to pray that he wouldn't notice.

In the end he didn't have a choice, as his phone rattled against the bedside table with its ringtone blaring around the room. Harry groaned low in his throat, head burrowing into the pillow as Louis cursed under his breath. He rolled his eyes and pulled his arm from Harry's grip, twisting backwards to reach for his phone whilst his legs were still trapped between another pair. He didn't bother checking the screen to see who was calling, just jabbed blindly with faint annoyance and answered with a rough 'hello'.

"Finally" Came a voice sounding just as annoyed as his own, followed by a drawn out huff. It was Lottie. "I tried calling you at least ten times yesterday"

Louis furrowed his brows, head dropping back against the pillows as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. Lola let out a squeak, disturbed by the impact, and crawled away whilst Louis sent her an apologetic look. "Sorry, I mustn't have noticed"

"Well if you're going to disappear in the middle of the night then you could at least return my calls, or send a message, anything" There was shuffling in the background, someone asking 'Is it Louis?', probably one of the girls. "We've been worried sick. And dad's been in a bad mood ever since he realised you were gone. Where are you?"

Louis was distracted for a moment as Harry began to sit up, a yawn escaping his lips that he tried to cover with the back of his hand. Louis could finally pull his legs free, and Harry sent him a questioning look that he hoped was directed towards the phone call, and not their position. He broke their glance when Lottie began asking if he was still there. "Yeah, sorry. I'm at a friends house. Are you and the girls okay?"

"Okay as we can be, I suppose" She paused, more shuffling, a shocked 'Lottie!' being screeched in the background. "Dad's angry that you left, he's been trying to call you, so I guess he's been taking it out on us a bit with our studies and he's pushing the staff too hard" There was another pause, the silence filled by a sigh, and guilt was steadily creeping up Louis' throat. "Are you coming home soon?"

Louis clutched his phone tighter and his eyes drifted up towards the ceiling. He was sat in a warm bed with nobody telling him he had to get up, accompanied by a friend, someone who he could be himself around, whilst breakfast was being made downstairs by a family with no restrictions. He had this freedom of another home, an escape route, where he could in fact take that normalcy that he had thought he'd never experience. As much as he enjoyed it, it was still a dull reminder of what he'd left his sisters to back home. "I don't know Lottie, I'm sorry"

Harry sent him a concerned glance, brows pinching together, a hand reaching out. Louis waved him off. "But, you'll be back for New Years won't you? Dad always hosts those stupid parties for New Years and you know how awful they are. It'll be worse without you there"

He held back an annoyed groan at the thought. Each year the parties became more extravagant than the last; more alcohol, more money, more people. It wasn't like the fundraisers or balls, where appearances were kept and everyone was one their best behaviour, with polite small talk and chins pointed up. New Years would leave the house tainted by smoke and the floor with fresh stains, money left carelessly on tables after gambling the night away and glasses broken by drunken business men. His sisters would be kept up the entire night by the noise, locked in their rooms upstairs with the maids checking in on them each hour, whilst Louis had been forced to attend for the past two years despite his age.

It probably wasn't appropriate. Not with the house full of adults who were too drunk to care for their behaviour in front of a child, and a parent who didn't care enough to scold them. He was expected to make an appearance, and though he didn't want to attend, he needed to be there for his siblings.

"Yeah, I'll be there" He agreed, reluctantly. He flicked his eyes back to Harry to find him mouthing the word 'where?', clearly still concerned with the frown tugging at his lips. Louis gestured for him to wait a moment whilst he finished up the phone call. "Just stay out of dads way until I'm back, alright? If you need anything ask the maids, they'll take care of you, and if not then call me"

"Would you actually pick up the phone though?"

Louis rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wished his sisters weren't catching onto his own quick responses. He wasn't sure how to feel about his own sass being turned on himself. "Yes, I'd pick up the phone. Can I not go one day without talking to you?"

"You've spent weeks at school not talking us, you can't blame me for being pissed off when you suddenly disappear during your break"

"Language" Louis reminded. If he were being honest, he didn't really care if his sisters swore. He was probably at fault anyway, he couldn't blame them for catching on. "And I know, I'm sorry. I'll spend time with you once I'm back, I promise"

Harry snorted besides him, shaking his head as he reached for Lola. "You're not great with promises" he mumbled, earning a glare from Louis along with the middle finger, silently telling him to 'fuck off'.

"Alright, well, I've got to go anyway. We've got a study session with our tutor" Lottie replied a moment later, and again Louis could hear some sort of complaint from one of his sisters in the background. "Come home soon, please"

"I will" Louis nodded to himself. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't want to go home, that the only reason he eventually would was because of them. He told Lottie to tell the girls he says hi, to not worry, and ended the call with a guilty 'goodbye'.

New Years was five days away. He hadn't thought much about when he would return home, being that this was only his second day at Harry's and he had no intention of leaving so soon. When he had left that night, sitting in the dark taxi with 'the runner' playing in his ears, he had counted down the days until Christmas break would be over, and decided he wanted to spend the majority, if not all of them with Harry.

"That your sister?" Harry asked, mindlessly running his fingers through Lola's fur. The concerned expression had eased into one of curiosity, all soft confused eyes and a faint smile. His t-shirt was creased where Louis had woken up clutching it, and Louis realised from the curls that were falling into his eyes that Harry's hair was longer than it had been at the start of term; he wondered if he was growing it out because he had told him to.

"Yeah" He nodded, locking his phone. "Apparently she'd called me a few times yesterday. I hadn't even noticed"

"Maybe you didn't hear it when we were dancing, the music was pretty loud" Harry suggested, and Louis hummed in agreement. "Do you have to go home?"

"No" Louis sighed, rolling over onto his stomach to face Harry. "But my sisters want me back for the New Years party my dad always hosts. I wouldn't really want them to be alone through it anyway"

"Oh" Harry nodded, and Louis could tell he was disappointed despite trying to hide it, with how his eyes dropped back to Lola and the curve of his lips disappeared. He couldn't blame him, he felt disappointed as reality set back in too. "Will you stay for the countdown? New Year's Eve"

He thought for a moment, calculating his time, how many hours it would take to get back home for the party. If he set off early enough in the morning, he was sure he could. "Yeah. Unless Laura wants me gone by then"

"I wouldn't let her kick you out. It's up to me when you leave- and it's your decision of course" Harry replied firmly, "Don't worry about her, she was probably just in a bad mood yesterday"

"She was fine with the rest of you" Louis mumbled bitterly, picking at his nails as something to focus on. He couldn't help but feel bothered as much as he didn't want to care. It was more so the lack of reason that irritated him, how he couldn't figure out what he had done wrong. He reasoned he could win her over though. It was a miracle that he and Harry had ended up becoming friends, she was nothing in comparison.

"She's always fine with me and Gems. I think she's scared of turning out like that evil stepmother from Cinderella" Harry replied with a grin. It was almost like he knew that Louis would roll his eyes at a Disney reference; and of course he did.

"Trust you to make a fucking Disney reference whilst I'm wallowing in my own self pity" Louis sighed and stood up, stretching his arms above his head with his eyes firmly shut and his nose scrunched up. He turned around as he brought his arms back down and stopped when he opened his eyes, more confused than he probably should've been. "What the fuck?"

"What?"

"It's been snowing" Louis stared out the window, only now realising that the entire garden and the surrounding fields were covered in a sheet of thick, white snow. Not the typical snow you'd see nowadays in England, where the ice had turned to sludge with the continuous rainfall, the floor being too wet for it to stick- no. It looked like something straight out of a Christmas movie. "How the fuck has it snowed this much? It was sunny yesterday"

"Oh my god" Harry gasped, ignoring Louis' question. "Lola's never seen snow!"

"That's what you're focused on right now? Not the fact that we're suddenly living in fucking Antarctica?"

Harry was already standing, clutching Lola to his chest as he rushed towards the window with the most excited expression Louis had ever seen. "Look Lola, snow!" He held her up towards the window, quite like that one scene from Lion King, and Louis could only stare with a bewildered look; brows quirked, lips parted, eyes slowly blinking.

"Harry, I highly doubt a kitten has any interest in frozen water"

"She's going to love it" Harry disagreed, rushing back across the room to grab some sweats and a hoodie, unfazed by Louis' lack of interest. "Come on, we've got to take her outside"

"It'll be freezing. I'm not getting hypothermia for a damn kitten. I already made that mistake for an Irish golf enthusiast"

"His names Niall, if you've forgotten" Harry quipped, and threw a hoodie towards Louis. "Just get changed, wear something warm. You're not missing Lola's first time in snow"

"Oh like it's a huge fucking moment" Louis scoffed, but pulled the hoodie over his head despite his reluctancy. He knew that whether or not he wanted to go outside, Harry would drag him out there anyway. "If we're out there longer than five minutes I swear I'll start throwing snow balls at you"

"And you assume I don't like snow ball fights?"

Louis shrugged, "Your aims shit, you'll miss"

Harry let out an amused huff, pulling on his clothes. "And you're someone who doesn't like snow, I'd say it's a level playing field"

Louis gave him a fake smile, "We'll see about that then won't we" He picked up Lola and walked past Harry towards the door, "Let's just take Lola outside to play in some fucking snow that she probably won't like, so that we can get back inside and continue our morning snow free. That sound good to you?" He didn't wait for a response, just watched as Harry began to reply and cut him off at the last moment. "Great, thought so"

"Do you have to be pessimistic about literally everything?" Harry asked, rushing to follow Louis out onto the landing.

"No. Only things that deserve my pessimism, like snow, or anything cold" Louis scratched behind Lola's ears as he made his way downstairs, faintly worried about Harry's pace behind him what with him being so clumsy. "Or, your ridiculous ideas. They definitely warrant my pessimism"

"You don't exactly have the best track record with your ideas either-" Harry winced as his foot slid against the polished wood of the floorboards and gripped the banister tighter as he slowed down. "Clearly worked out well when you tried to walk around the mud that day. Brilliant idea"

"You can't mock me about that day. I spent the entirety of it trying to cheer up your moody arse" He reached the ground floor and placed Lola at his feet, spinning around to find Harry only a step behind him- or, above him. He really didn't need the extra height. "And it worked. So you're welcome"

Harry quirked a brow, staring down at Louis whilst the corner of his lips pushed out against his dimple; amused. Not quite the reaction Louis was going for, not at all. He half expected a disappointed frown, not that damn smirk. "I don't recall asking you to cheer me up that day, you wanted to" He stepped down, and even though Louis stepped backwards in an attempt to put some distance between them, Harry's chest still brushed against his own- so close, again, like this was no accident and Louis couldn't tell if he minded or not.

"Exactly, just another of my amazing qualities" He scoffed, eyes following Harry's movement as he slowly bent down, forehead level with his hips, his eyes fixed on his own, and stood back up a moment too long with Lola in his hands. Louis paused, lips parted as he searched for something to say. "Was that really necessary?"

"What?" Harry stepped around him, grinning with mischief that told a lot more than what he was letting on. He knew what he was doing, Louis knew what he was doing, but still it would go unspoken.

"You know what" Louis followed behind as they continued towards the kitchen, desperately trying to mask the frustration he could feel pulling at the front of his brows and the corners of his lips. Harry could take the upper hand at any moment he wanted. One minute Louis was ahead, leading the conversation, and the next he was rushing to keep up.

"I don't think I do" Harry paused before entering the kitchen, one hand limply pressed against the doorframe as he turned to face Louis. "I think I was just picking up Lola"

Louis just stared at him blankly for a beat, tongue firmly pressed against the backs of his  teeth. He thought about pressing the subject, testing Harry, pushing past the clueless front that seemed to appear in each of their conversations- but then, he wasn't sure if he even wanted that. Answers. Confrontation. Wasn't even sure if there was a need for it, or if he had begun to read things wrong. But regardless of his doubts, he decided he didn't want to deal with it right now.

He relaxed his jaw, let his smile reappear, and clapped Harry once on his shoulder. "Of course you were, nothing more to it" He couldn't even help how sarcastic he sounded, his words forced. By the way Harry's grin faltered, he wondered if he had been hoping for a different response; the one he had debated. "Might want to hurry before that snow melts"

The kitchen was more so an open space that sectioned off into a living room by the island where Andrew, Gemma and Laura were eating their breakfast. Harry barely stopped to decline the offer of joining them, too eager to get outside, and Laura still said nothing to Louis as they passed through, instead opting to focus on her food with a sour expression that couldn't be due to her own cooking.

Harry leant him a coat that was embarrassingly loose against his frame, and a pair of gloves that left fabric hanging at the ends of his fingers. They pulled on their shoes before sliding open the door that led to the back yard, and Louis already wanted to run back up to Harry's room as the first wave of cold wind washed over his skin.

"Right then" Louis released a long sigh, one that turned to mist as warmth met freezing air. "Let's get this over with" He began to step outside when Harry asked him to wait, a hand gripping his bicep. "What?"

"Can kittens catch hypothermia?" Harry asked, eyes suddenly wide with doubt.

"Oh for Christ's sake" Louis shook his head and gently pried Lola away from his hands, stroking behind her ear as he stepped outside, snow crunching under the pressure of his feet.

"I'm being serious" Harry whined, fumbling after him like a worried mother. "Some animals aren't meant for cold. What if her paws go numb? Or she falls into deep snow and we can't find her? Or-"

"Harry, this was your idea and I have not just put on sparkly pink gloves to back out now. She's going in the snow" Before Harry could protest any further, Louis bent down and placed Lola onto the ground, spots of white fur blending into the snow as the black of her coat avoided camouflage. Louis smiled and stood back up again, "See, nothing to worry about"

"Louis she's not moving" Harry frowned, staring at the frozen kitten as if the temperature had turned her into a statue. "Maybe we should-"

"Just give her a minute" Louis interrupted, forcing his smile to stay put, and they did. They stood there waiting patiently for Lola to do something, anything, but as the minutes ticked by and there was still no movement, Louis was finding it increasingly more difficult to keep his smile from falling. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing between Harry and Lola, "She's just- confused?"

"Confused?" Harry faced him, his expression almost panicked. "Louis we've paralysed our kitten!"

"We have not paralysed our kitten" Louis scoffed, though his own voice sounded unsure. "I mean, it's just snow. And she's only been out here for like five minutes" At this point he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more, Harry or himself. "Maybe Google it?"

"The only thing I'm going to be googling is the nearest fucking vet" Harry stepped around Lola and crouched down to get a better look at her, but despite the clear frustration in his tone, Louis couldn't help the amused grin that was pushing at his lips. Harry glanced up, caught the grin, and shot a glare at him. "This is not funny"

"But it kind of is"

Harry didn't look amused. Not one bit.

"Alright, alright" Louis put his hands up in surrender with a roll of his eyes and crouched down besides Harry. "Let's just get her back inside then-"

He was about to pick her up when Lola bowed her head, nose twitching as it neared something entirely unfamiliar. The two watched on with a similar curiosity that Lola displayed towards the snow, waiting for something to happen, and flinched when her nose eventually breached cold surface, causing the kitten to jump backwards in surprise.

Harry finally smiled and Louis let out a breathy laugh as Lola seemed to spark back into action, fumbling her way around them leaving tiny paw prints in her wake. "I told you there was nothing to worry about" Louis commented smugly, dashing Lola with handfuls of snow.

"You can't deny that you were worried for a moment there too" Harry replied with a raised brow, absently scooping the snow into a small pile that Lola found amusement in knocking over.

"Should've seen the look on your face though. Priceless" Louis teased, laughing as a moody pout formed on Harry's lips. He couldn't laugh for long, though. Not when Harry retorted with a fist full of snow, throwing it directly at Louis' head.

Harry's eyes were alight with laughter as Louis' jaw dropped, specks of ice melting atop his skin, more of it dampening his hair. He grimaced in discomfort as he felt the substance slipping down his neck and beneath the cotton of his hoodie, pooling in the dips of his collar bones whilst Harry continued to laugh. Louis briefly shook himself off, wiping away the snow from under his eyes, and raised a challenging brow at him.

Harry's expression morphed into one of giddy fear, heavy breaths along with squawks of laughter tumbling from his lips as he scrambled to stand back up. As he attempted a swift escape, Louis was grinning, scraping up as much snow as he could carry, confident in his ability to catch up. He knew Harry wouldn't get far, not with his long, uncoordinated legs sliding through the frost, arms flailing with every step as he struggled to maintain his balance. It would be an easy chase, one that Harry had instigated but also would lose.

With snow clutched to his chest, slowly disintegrating, Louis whipped around and stomped his foot flat onto the ground, hauling himself up as his eyes fixed on Harry's retreating figure. Lola had already taken off after him, prancing along a trail of footsteps as snow clung to her fur and melted under the soft press of her paws. She looked so small out here, smaller than usual, amongst the wide expanse of a white winter, innocent curiosity scoping out changed land. Harry had been right, as usual. This was a memory that Louis would cherish.

He set off running, excitement bubbling in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His smile felt permanent, almost painful if not for the numbing atmosphere, like his cheeks were sewn upwards with a constant tug at the corners of his lips. He knew that Harry was smiling too, though he couldn't see his face, because his laughter echoed along the path that he was running, unabashed and ringing with joy. Louis knew from his laugh that his smile was more radiant than his own, and he picked up his pace with the urge to see it.

The wind whipped across his skin as he sprinted, like cold needles piercing his flesh. His eyes stung slightly as they were assaulted by a freezing barrier, and with each heaving breath he took it felt like ice was coating his lungs. He had never liked the cold, despised it even, but for once the lack of heat wasn't at the forefront of his mind. Instead was Harry and Lola, and the realisation that never before had he experienced this with a friend, only his family.

Ahead of him, Harry took a sharp turn through a pathway between the bushes and ran through another section of the garden. It was difficult for Louis to decipher whereabouts he was headed, what with the snow camouflaging any distinctive areas. The fountain he remembered to the right of the garden was now only a faint silhouette, white outline against a white background. The already wilted flowers were now surely dead, suffocated by mother nature's own cold, cruel hands. Louis wasn't heading towards either of those, though. Not a faint fountain or a dead flower in sight; only an endless white path with a boy at the end of it.

If Louis had a compass on hand, he was sure it would be pointing straight at Harry. Directing him. Guiding him. Leading the chase. It would follow his footsteps, his laughter, the puffs of breath that left his lips, lingering in the air like fog. Harry couldn't escape this chase, not when he was the only thing that Louis recognised in this infinite white world.

He made it to the opening that Harry had just disappeared through, a smirk pulling at his lips as he balled together clumps of snow, crunching it between numb fingertips. He peaked his head through. No sign of Harry. His smirk faltered. Through the pathway was a squared space lined by the bushes, and Louis narrowed his eyes at Lola who was sat in the centre of it. 

He was about to call out to her when he noticed footprints leading into the square, large and uneven, footprints that looked more dragged rather than placed. They had torn through the snow with hurried, clumsy steps, and Louis found amusement in the image of Harry hurling himself down this path with flailing arms and sliding legs. He was hiding in there.

Lola was staring at him, waiting for his next move, she was Harry's eyes and any reaction she made would give him away. Louis slowly placed a single finger to his upturned lips, hushing her, as if this would somehow stop the kitten from alerting his target. She blinked, looked to her left side, and looked back at Louis. He's there. He has to be.

Louis used the left side bushes as a guideline, pressing as close as possible as he made careful steps towards the square. The snowball in his grasp was steadily melting, seeping through the woollen gloves onto what felt like frost bitten skin. He kept his eyes on Lola as he moved closer and closer to the opening, already planning a thousand lines of attack. It might be easy. Harry might be huddled up against a corner, completely defenceless, shielding himself from oncoming snow with only his arms acting as a barrier. Or, Harry could be planning his own line of attack- his own snowballs clutched in his hands, just waiting for Louis to make an appearance.

Either seemed likely. Harry was both bold and cautious, courageous and meek. But one thing for certain was that neither he nor Harry ever had one title. There was no certainty when dictating who was braver, stronger, weaker, smarter. It was ever changing in different situations, and as with this one, it was unclear what Harry's next move would be.

He stopped just short of the opening, eyes darting left and right. From where he was stood he could see the back two corners of the square, as absent of Harry's presence as where Lola was sat. She continued to look to the left, further solidifying Louis' guess that Harry was hiding just a few steps away from him.

He took one last glance at Lola, grinned, and leaped out left into the opening as he threw his arm backwards and above his head. In one swift movement, his arm was plunged forward again, fingers finally loosening their grip on the half melted snowball whilst his wrist flicked downwards, propelling the cold substance through the air, towards the corner... and into empty space.

Louis' grin fell as the snowball crashed into the bushes, tearing apart through branches and leaves until the fragments were disappearing into the white surface below it. He had been so sure, but- Harry wasn't there. He was neither cowering away or rearing to fight, and Louis was puzzled by his own misjudgement. Though Lola had swayed his decision with her concentrated stare towards the left corner, he knew that Harry had ran down this passage, had seen him turn towards this square. So, that could only mean...

The realisation hit him at the same time that the snowball did. Cold, harsh against the back of his neck, trailing down his spine as the frost melted against his skin. Louis whipped around and was greeted by Harry's laughter, a sound that he had been chasing moments before, but now refused to take joy in. He had been tricked. "How'd you manage that then?"

"Manage what?" Harry questioned with a teasing smile.

"Getting Lola to look the other way" He couldn't help but send a glare towards the kitten, sat there looking all innocent. If she had chosen a side, it clearly wasn't Louis'.

Harry shrugged, looking all too pleased with himself. "Guess she just likes me better"

Louis scoffed, shaking his head. If he didn't have so much of an ego, and he could be honest with himself, he would probably agree. It made sense, really. Lola had been with Harry since day one, he took care of her, fed her, housed her. Louis had merely been the one to make that possible. "She wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me" He replied, voicing his singular point.

"That's true" Harry agreed, glancing at the kitten, then back at Louis. "Though I doubt she knows that"

She probably didn't, much to Louis' disappointment. "Doesn't need to. I know it, you know it, that's good enough for me seeming as it's you I'll be holding it over"

Harry pursed his lips, nodding. He looked amused. "Hold it over me as long as you'd like. It won't change the fact that I'm her favourite"

Louis rolled his eyes, taking in a long, exasperated breath, pressing his tongue against the backs of his front teeth as if that would somehow prevent the smile threatening to appear on his lips. "Alright" He bent down, scooped up a hand full of snow, and stood back up again as he pressed the substance into a firm ball. "That's enough cheek from you Styles"

Harry barely had enough time to voice the words 'don't you dare' before Louis was throwing the snowball directly at him. He almost felt bad once realising how hard he had actually thrown it, narrowly missing Harry's face as he turned away, the snowball crashing against his ear with a loud thud. Harry's hand shot up to his ear, an almost pained expression crossed his features, and Louis briefly wondered how easy it was to damage eardrums.

It was, in fact, pretty easy. It was as simple as poking a cotton bud too far down your ear canal, or a harsh blow to the ear- like the one Louis had just inflicted on Harry. His father had once burst his eardrum, a few years back on a trip to America. Louis couldn't quite remember the explanation of how it had happened, but he did remember having to shout at Mark in order for the man to hear him properly, the constant ear ache that had his father immensely more irritated than usual, and visits from their family doctor from time to time during a three week period.

Now, he was worried. Because on the slight chance that he had accidentally burst Harry's eardrum, Laura would certainly kill him.

"Fuck" Louis watched as Harry bent down, one hand still covering his ear, and the pained expression still pulling at his face. He quickly crouched down in front of him, his hand reaching up to cover Harry's own, and his other grasping at Harry's knee. "Shit. Harry I'm so sorry"

He couldn't recall the last time he had physically hurt him. Possibly in the changing rooms after their self defence class, leaving Harry to hobble around school to and from their last few lessons. Or maybe it was sometime else after that incident, in the woods when they had fallen over, or during their half hearted play fight the day Harry's costume had arrived. It had been a while- but unlike some of those instances in the past, Louis had never felt regret, fear, worry. Not like he did now.

He felt somewhat protective. This wasn't like their careless fights where light smacks and gentle shoves could be played off with teasing smiles, in those situations they both knew what they were signing up for and the violence was warranted; encouraged, even. Now though, that wasn't Louis' intent. He hadn't meant to hurt Harry. He didn't want to. The protectiveness that urged him to cradle Harrys ear like a broken limb was shrouded by his own guilt even as he attempted to reason with himself that this was only an accident.

"Does it hurt?" Harry didn't answer him, even if he had Louis probably wouldn't have noticed, too busy fussing over Harry's hand as he tried to pry it away from his ear. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear, I just got caught up in the moment I guess" He didn't really know what to say. Instead words seemed to be falling from his lips in a haste to redeem himself, desperate for forgiveness. "I can go get Filch if you want? Or Gemma? She usually knows what to do right?"

Harry still hadn't said a word. On one hand this did nothing to settle Louis' nerves, spiking new, irrational scenarios in which he imagined Harry mad at him, not speaking to him, avoiding him, kicking him out- though that seemed a little dramatic. He hated the thought but, on the other hand he couldn't really blame him either. He shouldn't have thrown it so hard, he should've been more careful, Harry had every right to be pissed off at him and-

Harry was smiling. Why is he smiling? It was more of a grin, really, bordering on a smirk. It was playful and devious, a sudden change from his previous pained expression, now wiped clean from his face. His eyes bore into Louis' with that same glint they had after tricking him  moments earlier, and only when Louis tore his eyes away from them did he finally notice the snowball clutched in Harry's other hand, slightly hidden besides his shoe. Shit.

This time there was no chance of thinking up a plan. Louis was always overly competitive, as was Harry, turning something as simple as a snowball fight into a game of deception and calculated moves. The snowballs were grenades, the garden was their arena, and now, Harry had the advantage. There wasn't much left to do but act on instinct as Louis sprung forward, hands slamming into Harry's shoulders as to knock him off balance, tumbling backwards with the force of Louis' body following after him.

Harry's back hit the cold, wet floor with a thud, legs parting as Louis' torso landed between them. The worry, the protectiveness he had felt in fear of hurting Harry was long gone as he frantically shuffled further up his body, replaced by the need to win, to get his own back, as the giddiness and humour of the childish game settled into the air surrounding them. The adrenaline had returned along with both of their smiles, puffs of laughter floating between them as they tugged at one another's clothing, shoes battling for grip against the snow.

Hands were everywhere. One of Harry's bringing the snowball down against the back of Louis' head, another pressing up against the warm stretch of skin between his collar bone and jawline. Louis' fingers were digging into Harry's hip as if to control, to command his thrashing body to rest there beneath him permanently, to stick to the snow like it did to the ground. Whilst that hand was defence, his other was attack, grappling for snow, swiftly throwing it over Harry's upper body, jabbing at Harry's hand in an attempt to remove the pressure from his neck.

It was all too quick to register any pain, the numbing of his knees where they dug into the solid ground between Harry's thighs, the subtle snicks of fingernails grazing his skin, the ache of knuckles clashing against his chest. It was blurry, erratic, but he was aware of each heaving breath he took, each seeming more difficult than the last as he slowly ran out of stamina. Harry seemed to be in the same shape, the pressure lessening where he pushed against Louis, the steady flow of snow coming his way gradually becoming less frequent. They were both tiring, but neither wanted to be the first to surrender.

The act of straddling Harry, or getting into that position, was rather difficult when you had little to no ability of moving your own legs. Harry's thighs were like a vice around Louis' own, secured tight enough to reduce him to pathetic wiggles and restricted shuffling. It took the entirety of his upper body strength to finally pull himself from his trap, palms pressed to the white floor as he dragged his legs up and over Harry's own. Snow was still being showered upon him as he steadied himself onto his knees either side of Harry's torso, and finally let his weight sink down onto his stomach.

Surprisingly, Harry didn't try to shove him off, to roll them over- if anything his thrashing became subdued, relaxing into his position. His arms, however, were still moving freely. Dashing snow, swatting at Louis' hands, pushing half-heartedly at Louis' thighs though he knew Harry didn't care to escape. It was a false display of vulnerability, an act. If Harry wanted to push him away, Louis had no doubt that he could.

After a few attempts he managed to clasp Harry's wrists, forcing them to the ground just slightly above his head, bound by his own firm grip. Likewise as when he had straddled him, Harry seemed to accept his position willingly, his strong arms now feeling boneless under Louis' control. The lack of resistance almost made him want to let go, release him, settle back and catch his breath, their game over with- but maybe that's what Harry wanted him to do? Maybe he was waiting it out, pretending to give in, all just to strike again once Louis had let his guard down. Is this another trick?

He searched his face for prolonged moment as they both caught their breath, panting heavily above and below, the condensed air mingling between them. He seemed calm now, if a little exhausted, still radiating joy as his dimples pierced his cheeks and his eyes squinted with unshed laughter. His smile didn't hold any smug deception like it did the first two times, and if Louis was reading him well enough, he would confidently say that this was it, he had given in.

But, with his track record of missing Harry's signs, often unable to see past his act, he had to make sure. "Are you quite finished yet? Got any more tricks up your sleeve?"

"Unfortunately, no" His voice was rougher than usual, tired sounding, yet still holding that element of sarcastic wit. Louis couldn't tell anything from it. "Bit tied up here to do anything more" He pushed his wrists up against Louis' hands for emphasis.

"Bullshit" Louis narrowed his eyes, he wouldn't fall for it again. "You could easily flip us over if you wanted to. Shove me off. Question is why aren't you?"

Harry shrugged as much as he could with Louis holding his arms down. "Maybe I just don't want to" He relaxed his neck, his head lolling backwards, "Maybe I prefer this position"

Louis hesitated for a moment, processing his claims. Was he... No. Surely not. The atmosphere now felt the same as it did by the staircase. The reoccurring comments, actions that led Louis to question him always ended in quick topic changes and subtle dismissal, like nothing had been said in the first place. When he had first started to notice it had been easy to ignore, to play off with sarcastic jokes and flow back into their usual repartee, but lately he'd sensed a seriousness to Harry's 'jokes' that he neither could look over nor deny. He felt forced to hear him, forced to think, but still would avoid his own theories in fear of being told he was right.

He rolled his eyes, "Fuck off with your maybes" He released his grip on Harry's wrists, sitting up straight with a sigh. He knew for certain now that he wasn't going to do anything, he didn't have any more tricks, because he knew in the back of his mind that there was some truth to what he had said, as much as he didn't want to acknowledge it. He wasn't even sure what he meant more by his response. If he wanted Harry to stop insinuating anything with his 'maybes' entirely, to stop hinting, to leave it alone so he wasn't confronted by the possibilities of his words, or, if he wanted Harry to stop with the 'maybes' and get to the point already.

Harry eyes turned quizzical, his smile softened as the playfulness of his expression was swept away in the wind. Now, Louis was the one being read. He pushed his upper body up slightly, his lower half still trapped beneath Louis' weight, and rested his elbows against the ground, elevating his head as if to see him clearer. "You know..." He paused for a moment, his eyes drifting off to the side, possibly checking on Lola who was still contently playing in the snow. He fixed his stare back to Louis. "Sometimes I wonder if you really are oblivious or if you're just pretending to be"

So, he had noticed then. It felt like a direct challenge to the internal battle he was facing, like Harry could see his thoughts, feelings attacking one another, waging a war inside his head, and knew exactly how to manipulate either side. More often than not, the side of him that wanted to block out these theories would take the lead, forcing his questions to the back of his mind where he couldn't even attempt to pick them apart, pull back the layers, think on it any harder. It was Harry that fuelled the fire, pushed the questions forward with only a few suggestive words, and set the war blazing once again.

"I-" He trailed off for a moment. He wasn't sure which side of the war he was routing for, which side he wanted to take control, but he did know which side he feared the most. "I don't know what you're talking about"

"I think you do. You did earlier, anyway" That damn staircase incident. It was different when Louis was pushing the boundaries, challenging Harry. He had the control of the conversation, he could decide where the attention was being directed, he could set the boundaries. Right now, he felt at an absolute loss. "Pretending, then?"

He'd said it as a question but it wasn't. Not at all. Though he had his walls up, reluctant to let that other side through, it might as well have been transparent; Harry was reading him like a fucking book. The idea that he couldn't keep his cards hidden had anxiety thrilling down his chest, pooling in his stomach with what could only be described as dread. He couldn't hold their stare any longer, paranoid he was giving himself away, and his eyes flicked down to his hands where they nervously balled up against Harry's ribcage.

He felt frustrated, too. Not only because Harry could see through his act, but because it felt quite hypocritical. 'Pretending then?' As if he wasn't the one communicating through riddles, barely breaching the surface on this topic that he claimed Louis was avoiding, challenging him whilst still hiding behind a glass wall. He was no better when being the one confronted, he never put his sarcasm aside for a serious answer and Louis couldn't be blamed for skirting over the subject when it wasn't even clear if Harry was being sincere or not.

"Not like you're being any clearer" He mumbled, harsher than he had intended. What else could he say? He didn't want to have this conversation and yet he felt at fault for holding it back, even though Harry had been doing the exact same thing.

"I don't know what you want to hear. I don't even know if we're on the same page or not" Harry sniffed, his pink nose scrunching as he glanced away again, leaving Louis momentarily to mull over his words. He wondered, again, if he was reading this all wrong, if they were on a different page. For all he knew, Harry could be alluding to something entirely different to what he thought, he might not even have any reason to worry over his hints and the suggestive way in which he spoke. Maybe he had been joking, maybe his words held no meaning at all, maybe he actually took pleasure in watching him squirm. There was simply no clarity between them. "You always seem so... frightened?"

I am. "Frightened? Seriously?" Harry was right about the pretending part, he'd give him that. He'd much rather pretend there wasn't fear manifesting in his chest, spreading like wildfire each time this unspoken topic was brought up. If pretending meant that he could avoid the fear, he'd put on the act of his life.

"Okay. On edge, then. Tense" Harry shrugged, remaining casual, relaxed. His body language seemed to suggest that there was nothing out of the ordinary about this 'conversation', if you could even call it that. In Louis' mind it almost solidified the chance that there was nothing serious about what Harry was saying, because how could he stay so composed? How was he this calm whilst Louis was praying for some form of interruption, panic still thrumming beneath his skin.

"I just- I don't know what to say" It wasn't a case of having no words, but having too many all at once and being unable to decide which ones were right. How could you respond when not knowing exactly what you're talking about? How can you speak to someone who's being equally as indirect as yourself? "I'm confused"

Harry smiled then, only slight, not with joy or laughter or mischief, but with reassurance. It resembled that gentle smile he would use to show he understood something, that he knew, that he had felt it within himself and that they could relate. It was comforting. "I know"

He no longer felt like he was under attack. There was a silent acknowledgement of something there beneath Harry's eyes, but of what Louis didn't know- or refused to know, because he couldn't even acknowledge it himself. All he knew was that it was something Harry didn't want to push, it was something fragile, delicate, that could only be touched upon within time. It was why Harry left it there when Louis couldn't reply, he couldn't force it.

"I think we should get Lola back inside" Harry said, making up for Louis' silence as he easily pushed him from his torso, just like he knew he could. Louis rolled off onto his side before sitting with his knees bent, elbows coming to rest atop of them as he absently watched Harry pick up the kitten, cradling her in his arms. "You coming then?"

In any other situation he'd be ecstatic to go back inside, sprinting for the opportunity of warmth and shelter, maybe a cup of tea, some blankets, possibly a fireplace. Instead, right now, as his joggers soaked up opaque snow and his fingers sat numb incased in wool, all he wanted was space. "I just need a minute"

Harry hesitated, concern pulling at the front of his brows. "Are you okay?" He asked, timidly, and the way he said it almost sounded guilty, like he was blaming himself for Louis' sudden withdrawal.

"I'm fine" He assured, forcing the corners of his lips upwards in a false display of confidence. He didn't want Harry to feel bad, like he was at fault for not understanding or being aware of his own inner turmoil, not when his questions had came from sheer curiosity. "Put the kettle on and I'll be there soon yeah?"

His faux attitude and distracting suggestion seemed to perk him up a little, his lips straightening out from its previous frown as he nodded silently and turned to walk away. Louis continued to watch him retreat, leaving him alone to his white surroundings, and finally let out a sigh once he could no longer see the boy.

It was moments like this where he wished he had a cigarette. Not only for the purpose of dulling his anxiety, replacing his jittering nerves for the similarly jittering feeling of nicotine dancing under his skin, but also for the purpose of having something to focus on rather than his own thoughts. He wanted to pull the cardboard box from his pocket, he wanted to flick the lighter behind his cupped hand, he wanted to feel that burning sensation at the back of his throat as he inhaled his first prolonged, relieving drag, smoke to fill his lungs instead of the bleak air he had became accustomed to.

Unfortunately his pockets were empty, and he could vividly visualise where the box lay beneath his clothes inside his bag up in Harry's bedroom. He sighed again, rolled his eyes to himself, and went to scratch at his jawline only to feel the damp woollen gloves brushing against his skin.

He had expected to feel calm now that Harry had left. He and his questions were the source of his anxiety, after all. He was the one setting him on edge all the time as he pried his way through his barricade, pulling back his defence bit by bit whilst Louis watched, panicked, as it fell apart in front of his eyes, scrambling to piece it back together. But now Harry was gone, and he still couldn't seem to relax. His jaw was still itching, his gloves wouldn't allow him to scratch, his arse was numb from sitting in the snow for so long, and he didn't have a single fucking cigarette to distract him from the thought that Harry knows something.

The worst part was that he couldn't even backtrack now. Even if he put his defences back up, Harry had already peaked through, seen a glimpse of that something that Louis wasn't even fully aware of himself. Nothing had even been said outright, their 'conversation' appeared to have no significant meaning as Louis went over it again and again in his head, but he could feel that something had changed in the way that Harry had looked at him, spoke to him, those words 'I know' as if he had came to some grand conclusion from nothing but a few nervous words from Louis and his body language alone.

He felt a little hopeless in that aspect, like there wasn't much else he could do but see how things would unfold. He knew that Harry would most likely try to revisit this conversation again, probably to see if he could push it any further, and though it terrified him, it inevitably wouldn't be the last time that he had to face the thoughts that he had been pushing away for so long. He could still call the shots, it was up to him what he would say, do, reveal, but at the same time it felt out of his control, like at some point he wouldn't be able to get away with skirting over the edges.

His dazed eyes left their spot on the bushes and floated down to his hands, where now he saw the small specks of white dotting the pink fabric of his gloves, clinging to the fuzz for a few short moments until they disappeared again. He looked up and realised it had begun to snow, blinking as flecks caught the ends of his lashes, taking short lived refuge along his eyes.

There was no point in hiding out here. It was cold and wet and the conversation was over with for now. He felt a bit dramatic, pathetic even, sitting on the floor outside avoiding something that had already been left alone. He had wanted space but what good would it do him? He never reached any verdicts when he was alone anyway, never figured anything out or had any useful ideas for how to go about his predicament. All he was doing was wasting time; something he didn't have a lot of now, what with the New Years party coming up.

Get yourself together.

He wanted to scoff at the voice inside his head, chiding him as if he wasn't already aware of how complicated things had become recently. He huffed as he pulled himself up onto his knees and slowly stood back up, wincing as his muscles stretched after being on the ground for so long. Harry had probably finished making their tea by now, and he felt pathetic once again just knowing that a cuppa was his primary reason for going back inside, not a sudden boost of courage that he'd like to pretend was there.

He was brushing off the backs of his joggers, staring up at the exterior of Harry's house when he heard a click far off to his right. He paused, brows furrowing, not daring to breathe as his ears strained for the sound to repeat itself, wondering if the strange clicking noise was just a figment of his imagination. He slowly turned to face the direction in which it came from and instantly heard it again, as if whatever it was was just waiting to get a better look at him.

His eyes darted along the back wall lined by bushes as he tried to pinpoint where it was coming from, what it was, as the clicks increased in speed one after the other, again and again, eventually blending into one constant stream of faint noise. His heart rate began to pick up, thrumming away in his chest as he stepped closer towards the bushes, confused and irate at this damn noise that was beginning to sound almost like...

A camera. Louis' head shot up and that's exactly what he found, a bulky lens being pointed straight at him above the tall bushes, the sleek looking device being held by a man he had never seen before, whom just barely peaked over the greenery with a sudden, startled expression. What the fuck?

The man has short dark hair, greying at the sides, hazel coloured eyes and a crooked nose. His complexion is splotchy, cheeks reddened from either the cold or his efforts of climbing up a fucking bush to take a few shots of him, probably both, Louis isn't sure. But what he is sure of is that he does not recognise this man, this is private property, and he should not have the right to take his photos without permission.

"Who the fuck are you?" He asks as he advances forwards again, eyes squinting to get a better look at him. The camera looks incredibly fancy, expensive, the sort of tech he couldn't quite imagine a man like this owning out of his own pocket, and just before he could start to make his hasty descent back below the bushes, Louis caught the flash of what appeared to be some sort of lanyard around his neck.

Louis recognised the signs instantly. It was a pap. Fucking paparazzi. The press. Shit.

All of a sudden his endless list of questions disappeared, leaving only one at the forefront of his mind. The most important one. How long has he been there? Panic erupted again, fresh, hot, boiling in his gut as he all but sprinted towards the bushes. "Hey!" He shouted as the man vanished, the only evidence left of him on the other side of that wall being the rustling of the bushes as he climbed his way down. "Fucking wait a minute would you?"

How long had he been there? What had he seen? What pictures were in that fucking camera? Out of a brief moment of rage, Louis kicked at the bushes a few times, harsh, violent, in the hopes that maybe this man would fall, and with him his camera might break. "This is private property, you can't fucking do this!"

He was met with no response, of course, the man might not even be on the other side of the bushes anymore, he might have already taken off... along with those photos. Louis stepped back, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair, tugging slightly as pure, cold fear washed over him. Those pictures can't get out to the public, they can't. They- god, how they could be perceived, how they could be written about, manipulated. The press always took advantage of a chance for a juicy story, disregarding the truth with no care for the consequences so long as it got them a few clicks. What would father think if he saw them? Louis shook his head at the thought, quickly turning on his heel to rush back towards the house.

He wasted no time in barging through the door, his politeness forgotten about as he trailed snow covered feet through the living space, rounding his way past the kitchen island. Harry and the rest of his family looked surprised at his state, dishevelled, out of breath, nearly distraught, but Louis didn't have time for their questions. "A pap was taking pictures of me, us, in the garden" he said through heaving breaths, pointing furiously at the back door. "He was over the top of the bushes taking pictures Harry. He had this fancy camera and a lanyard thing and, it had to be a pap, the press, whatever-"

"Louis slow down" Harry interrupted softly, his eyes taking pity in his obvious distress. He let go of the spoon his was holding, resting it back inside one of the two mugs, and took a few steps towards him. "Are you sure? How would a pap even know you were here-" Harry reached out a hand towards Louis' shoulder only for it to be batted away, hurt, concern flashing through his expression.

"You tell me" Louis cut his question off, a bite to his tone as his eyes wondered along the faces of Andrew, Gemma and finally Laura. Andrew and Gemma just looked confused for the most part, trying to make sense of what he was telling them, sharing a few perplexed glances with each other and Harry. Laura, however, looked impassive, calm, way too calm for a woman who's just had a stranger taking photos of her property. "Did you call them?" He couldn't help but ask, narrowing his eyes with an accusatory stare.

"Louis" Harry snipped, the concern of his expression morphing into offence. "Of course she wouldn't"

"Wouldn't she? It's clear she doesn't like me" Louis raised a challenging brow at Harry before turning to look at Laura again, who still sat in her relaxed state as if this was like any other morning. "Would be an easy way of getting me out of her house"

"Oh please" Laura scoffed condescendingly, maybe even amused. "If I wanted you out the house I wouldn't go through that much trouble. I'd kick you out myself"

Louis ignored her backhanded comment, flitting his eyes over the four staring back at him again. "Well someone must have tipped them off. I thought there's nobody else around here for miles"

"There isn't" Harry mumbled, his frown deepening. He looked towards Andrew and Gemma as if contemplating something, nervously biting at the inside of his lip. "He has a point, how would the press know Louis was here if nobody tipped them off. We don't have neighbours so..." He trailed off, his eyes resting on Laura with disbelief.

"Look, nobody in this house has tipped off the press, we can't be jumping to conclusions here" Andrew finally said, breaking his own silence. He rubbed a hand across the tired lines of his forehead before linking it with his other on the counter. "Have you told anyone you were staying with us Louis?"

"Of course I haven't" Louis rolled his eyes, pulling off his gloves in quick, sharp tugs. "Would defeat the purpose of a quick getaway, wouldn't it"

Andrew paused for a moment, his gaze darting between the two boys. "Not even your father? I thought he was aware of this"

Under normal circumstances Louis would probably be worried about his slip up, folding in on himself under Andrews pointed stare, fumbling for an easy cover up as to avoid any further questions on why exactly he needed a 'quick getaway' from his father in the first place. He couldn't think straight whilst there were photographs of himself and Harry in some strangers camera, each second passing where those photographs were getting closer to their destination, wherever that may be, to be used and distributed to the masses who may interpret those photos however they see fit.

So no, his father wasn't aware of his current abode, but that fact didn't seem like much of an issue now that he could be finding out in a matter of days, possibly hours, and Louis felt absolutely sick to his stomach. It didn't help that everyone was involved now, talking over each other spewing different opinions on the matter when initially he had only wanted help from one person; that being Harry. Filch had plastered on his professional approach, his headteacher act, trying to resolve the issue like he did that day in his office between Louis' group and Jake's group, asking questions that, in Louis' opinion, was doing fuck all to help. Laura, well, she wasn't trying at all. Instead she felt the need to slip in a patronising comment here and there as she busied herself with the daily mail. Gemma, bless her, just seemed confused, completely out of the loop as to why this was such a big deal to Louis in the first place, continuously asking the question of 'what does it matter if you're pictured having a snowball fight with my brother?' She didn't get it.

It wasn't just a snowball fight. It was Louis pictured for the first time with another boy, pictured for the first time with a friend, a friend who he happened to be straddling, somewhat intimately, in those photographs. Behind those photographs was also a man, who may or may not have heard every damn thing they said to one another, and could pass those notes onto whichever journalist who happens to end up writing the article. What they said to one another could very well sound like gibberish to anyone who doesn't know them, anyone who could read the article, because he's well aware that only himself and Harry understand the context of their hint ridden conversation... but still. His conscience couldn't rest with the knowledge that their moment together outside wasn't completely secure.

It felt like a complete violation of their privacy. He had finally found a place where he felt safe, free, relaxed. The desolation, the solitude, the silence, nothing but miles and miles of empty land, the peace, the tranquility, the space. The Forrest surrounding them, Harry's home, Harry's bedroom, their 'safe spot' up on the roof- this was theirs, and Louis loved every part of it. That illusion was shattered as soon as that camera had gone off, as soon as the prying eyes had returned, the invasive nature seeming to follow him wherever he went like the shadow stuck to the bottoms of his feet.

He couldn't win.

Filch was now suggesting driving around the area in search of the man, claiming that he couldn't have gotten far and that maybe they could persuade him to delete the photos. But with Louis' knowledge and past experience with paps, he knew the chances of that happening weren't likely. Though he didn't voice his opinions on his suggestion, Laura certainly did, jumping in to say it was a waste of time, that the man had probably driven here, and Louis unfortunately couldn't disagree with her. Gemma then suggested driving to the nearest news station, or media company, assuming that's where the man would be heading, but her idea was quickly shut down too, with Laura reminding her that the nearest ones were hours away.

Harry didn't give anymore input, instead he stood in silence with his eyes trained on Louis, a thoughtful expression on his face. Louis met his stare and sighed, shaking his head, they both knew this wasn't getting them anywhere. "Look, I appreciate the suggestions but I think I'm just going to try figure this out myself. My dad might be able to help or something, I don't know"

He was lying, of course. He knew that, Harry knew that. His dad could certainly stop the distribution of the photographs, Louis didn't doubt that, he might as well be the prime minister with the power he held in this country, but getting him involved would only cause more problems than it's worth. First, his dad would find out his location, and finally put an end to Louis' brief holiday in Harry's home, a thought he couldn't even bare. Second, he would have to explain the situation to him, why he was so distraught over a few photos, and he knew that telling his dad about the whole straddling situation wouldn't go down well. Third, Mark would inevitably see the photos, see their close proximity, see Louis' thighs bracketing his hips, see Louis pinning his arms above his head- that can't happen. Louis refused to let that happen. If there was even a slim chance of... something right now, it would be ripped away as soon as his father even caught a glimpse of those photographs.

No. He'd have to figure it out himself.

Silence eventually swept over the kitchen, besides the humming of the radio and the faint buzz of the dishwasher. Louis sent a tight smile to his audience and quickly turned to leave the room, already brainstorming ridiculous ideas such as hiring a helicopter to fly him over to the nearest news station, cutting those long hours short, and waiting for that bastard to show up so that Louis could throw his camera at the nearest fucking wall. Ridiculous as it was, he still debated it.

He knew Harry was following him so he wasn't surprised by the sound of the door softly closing behind him as entered his room. He allowed himself to pace the expanse of it for a short moment, needing to release his nervous energy, before turning to look at Harry. "Those pictures can't get out"

"I know" Harry replied simply, calm as ever.

"No, I mean it. They can't get out Harry" He paced for a moment again, as if his body was on autopilot, itching to run out of the house and after that man who was surely long gone by this point. "They- they'd ruin everything" He tried to calm himself by taking a seat at the end of Harry's bed, his legs bouncing against the floor, feet tapping away at it. "Journalists always twist their stories, god knows what shit they'll write"

"What's there to ruin exactly?" Harry questioned, as if he didn't know what position Louis was in, as if he hadn't met his father.

Us. Louis grimaced, shaking the thought. There wasn't even an 'us', just a 'something'. God, his thoughts really were a mess, jumping ahead of one another quicker than he could process. Jumping over that barrier he had carefully constructed in his mind. "My image, my reputation" He scoffed, like Harry should know this. "You realise if these photos get out then my father is probably going to do everything in his power to keep us away from each other, right?"

Harry's lips twisted, as if fighting a frown. He slowly made his way over to the bed and took a gentle seat besides Louis- noticeably keeping his distance. "Only if it looks a certain way"

"It does look a certain way, will look a certain way" How could it not? Even if the pictures didn't raise any questions, the journalist and their fictional story would.

"No, we were just having a snowball fight. Weren't we" There was playfulness to his tone that suggested otherwise, even if it was a half truth. "Does it really matter what the public think? Can't you just convince your dad that it isn't what it looks like?"

"It's not that simple" Louis mumbled sharply, exasperation laying in his words because he wished it was. Even if he explained to his dad that their position was nothing more than a tumble during their snowball fight, Mark would likely still have a problem with their close proximity, what with his idea of friends keeping their distance.

"But it could be. Surely your father knows that the press write utter bullshit half the time" He said it like it was personal, like he knew it as well as Louis did, with underlying notes of mocking anger hidden in his statement. He would have questioned him had he not been more focused on his own problems.

"Of course he does, but he also still hates you for some reason and as far as he's aware we're not even friends" The words tasted sour in his mouth, bitter on his tongue. It felt wrong to even insinuate that they weren't friends after everything that Harry had done for him, after everything they've been through. Harry was his best friend, the person he was closest to. Harry knew more about him than his own family did and he was the only person that he trusted with complete sincerity. Harry was the light, the fresh air coating his lungs, the curve of his smile and the arms holding him upright. Harry embodied everything truthful and real that he knew in his life. It was a travesty to even pretend that Harry styles wasn't his friend.

"Oh" He did frown now, eyes cast down as the words died in his throat. It shouldn't have came as a surprise, really. Mark has never been quiet about his disliking of Harry, hadn't been quiet about Louis having friends at all. But it wasn't that fact that brought the displeasing frown to Harry's face, it was the consequences of it. "Right, well, could you call a news company? Ask them not to publish anything?"

Louis shook his head dismally. "Unless there's prior restraint against a news company they can publish any information they'd like. I can sue them afterwards for unlawfully invading my privacy, seeming as the photos were taken on private property and assuming nobody gave permission, but that doesn't really help my case right now. I don't want the photos released at all"

Harry hummed, mulling over the information. Then, his brows furrowed, he turned his body towards Louis. "How does your father get around it then?"

"He-" Louis paused, the words not coming to him because he didn't actually know. Legally, the press can write whatever they'd like within reason, so that couldn't have been a threat. "I guess just because it's him, really. He knows a lot of people, he has a lot of influence. Maybe he just knows the right people to shut down shit like this"

"Can you not ask him to help? Is it not better him finding out before they're released, so at least he has the chance to stop it?"

"No" Louis replied instantly, shaking his head again. He can't go to Mark about this, he can't. "No I can't Harry, I-" That panic was rising again, not that it had ever left, sparking ferociously at his chest, threatening to spill over. "There's still the chance that he won't see the article, maybe they won't even publish one, maybe it wasn't a pap" His voice trailed off as a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, the tips of fingers brushing past the collar against his neck.

"You know that's not true" Harry sent him a regretful smile, like he didn't want to speak this harsh truth. Louis closed his eyes, head dipping, trying to cling to the feeling of Harry's warm fingers touching his skin instead of the anxiety stabbing at his chest. Each breath he let out would shake, his hands trembled where he fisted them in the sleeves of his jacket, but Harry's hand was still there, reassuring, always. "I think you should just make peace with it. It's out of our hands now"

He hated that he was right. He hated not having the rationality that he did right now. He hated that there was nothing he could do, that he had no control over the situation at all. He hated that there was no way out, that every alternative had its cons. What he hated the most though, was that the day had been ruined, that that special moment out in the snow, a first time for Lola and a first time for him, had been interrupted in such a destructive way. He hated his position now more than he ever had, wishing for once that he could just disappear, away from the interest and the eyes that followed him. He wished his surname held no meaning at all, once such a blessing, lately a curse; the flaw in his very existence.

"How can I make peace with something that could alter so much?" He opened his eyes again, a sigh escaping his lips, and turned to Harry in hopes of an answer.

"It won't, it'll blow over within a few days I'm sure. Rumours are spread through the media all the time Louis, this will be forgotten about as soon as the next one arrives"

"My dad won't forget"

"He will, eventually" Harry smiled softly, his hand dropping from his shoulder in exchange for Louis' hand, hesitantly coaxing it to unclench the waterproof fabric of his jacket. Louis let it happen, embraced his warmth, the security of fingers wrapped around his own. "Besides, your dads a prick, he's gonna have to accept the fact that you might somehow end up straddling a boy again at some point"

There was another hint laying between his words somewhere, another insinuation, but for once Harry's voice didn't sound suggestive, it was more humours than anything, like he was trying to make light of the situation. Louis latched onto that humour and let out an amused breath, his lips pulling up into a smile. "Yeah, right"

They sat in silence like that for a while, smiling to themselves despite the heaviness lingering in the air. The anxiety was still there, scratching softly under his skin, trying to claw its way out, but Louis had Harry, his reassurance, his wit, the ease in which he held himself. It made everything just that little bit easier to deal with.

"If shit hits the fan you've got me, yeah?" Harry broke the silence quietly, as if trying not to disturb it. "It might feel like everyone's against you, your dad, the public... but you've always got me"

Louis smiled, squeezing his hand tighter as something warm, comforting, spread throughout his chest. Somehow, that felt like all he needed. "I know"

—————————

It was New Years Eve when the article dropped.

Friday, 31st of December.
Tomlinson heir captured closer than necessary with mystery boy.

Louis hadn't needed the news to be broken to him, he hadn't needed to see the print it's self, for the worried eyes and sympathetic frowns being displayed around the kitchen island was the only clue he needed.

Gemma, who now sat alongside her boyfriend after travelling to spend New Years with her, had tried to cover the front spread, the bold, black letters that taunted him all the way from the doorway. "Maybe it's best you don't read it" She'd offered, with gentle politeness that rivalled any mother.

Harry had said the same, uncertain eyes flicking between him and cluster of thin paper that his sister was guarding so dearly. They were all walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around him as if he and the newspaper were a deadly combination, ticking away, ready to blow.

He stood in a trance like state, half of him yearning to read the cautioned article, half of him threatening to run away. Fight or flight, maybe. He barely registered Harry's hand encircling his wrist, fingers pressing into the translucent skin above his veins as somewhat of a precaution, ready to tighten the reins if Louis so much as flinched.

He knew it was awful as he saw it in their eyes, the same eyes that had already read those words once, maybe twice, and finally understood why Louis was so scared in the beginning. Journalists could be the cruelest of writers, inflicting their opinions through the art backed up by companies that so many deemed 'credible'. Bullies wielding pens as weapons, self interest behind every story they exaggerate. They are the eyes and the ears, the friend you run to for all the gossip, and they take pride in knowing the drama before anybody else does.

They have the power and they enjoy it thoroughly. They twist the stories through implications and adjust their words for the right reaction. The words 'apparently', 'might' and 'may' are a rare existence in favour of a compelling, believable read and the titles that jump out of the page hold you hostage until you've reached the last full stop. It was the title that made Louis' decision.

He tore his wrist from the safety of Harry's grip, leaving the only hope of a calm Friday morning in the doorway where he resides, and embraced the anxiety thrumming away again with each step closer to that damn newspaper.

"Look, mate, if I were you I wouldn't-"

He ignored Michaels warning as he tugged the paper from under Gemmas forearms, folding the front in half to buy himself some privacy where not every member of the Styles/Filch family would see his first reaction. "You're not me and you barely even understand the situation"

He should feel bad for snapping. He knows he should. Michael is a nice guy, a great guy actually. He could have read that article, not knowing the context, and teased Louis about it the second he made his appearance. He could have pried, could have asked the obvious questions that he no doubt has, but he didn't. He's not like that. He's not the type to ignore signs of distress for his own curiosity, and Louis should be grateful.

But he isn't. He can't feel lucky that Gemma has impeccable taste in boys whilst he's holding onto a physical copy of his greatest fear. Everything he's ever avoided printed in text, laughing at him beneath his fingertips. He wonders how many like him are holding their own copy now, coffee stains marking the page as their eyes take in his fear, only to display shock, disgust, surprise. He wonders how many husbands are debating the topic with their wives, how many of those husbands may be his fathers colleagues, and if his father is sat there now, his own copy spread out on the dining table, as his phone blares to life with his colleagues asking their own questions.

He should have felt bad for snapping at Michael. He should have felt bad for tugging his wrist away from Harry so violently. He should have felt bad for snatching away the newspaper from Gemma, and the glares he was sending towards Filch and Laura, as if to threaten them into silence. But he couldn't.

"We only have your best interest in mind Louis" Filch said consolingly as he made his way back over to the doorway, fingers nearly burning holes through the paper. "If you need anything-"

"I don't, I just-" He trailed off, eyes darting towards the radio sitting on the counter besides the kettle, two radio hosts conversing as a song played faintly behind their voices.

"Louis Tomlinson, right? I don't think the article named the other boy but there's already speculation across social media-"

From the looks of surprise taking over their faces, it seemed that everybody was thinking the same thing: Already? Seriously? It was 9:30 in the morning, the paper couldn't have arrived long ago, and already the story was being talked about on England's most popular radio show. Not to mention the apparent gossip online.

Fuck.

He didn't stay any longer to hear what names might prop up, if Harrys name might already be out there. Just took off out of the room, barely hiding the panic he was sure was displayed in his movements, in his expression, hands clutching tighter to the paper, shoving past Harry without so much as a glance, up the stairs as his socks slid against the polished wood and back into the silence of Harry's empty bedroom.

He sat down on the edge of the bed facing the long stretch of windows covering the back wall, releasing a sigh that shook through his lips, the newspaper left to rest against his thighs.

He was expecting it to happen sooner or later. The past few days Harry had been a great distraction, forcing him into activities when he noticed that Louis was worrying again, peeking out of windows searching for cameras as paranoia swept over him. They had baked cookies the day the photos were taken, with Louis not even knowing how to whisk and Harry doing most of the work, a 'flour fight' erupting halfway through. The day after, Harry had given him a piano lesson in his bedroom, patiently allowing Louis to memorise the keys as they sat besides one another on the small bench, elbows knocking and knees pressed together. They'd watched countless movies on the big screen in Harrys 'cinema' room, taken a walk through the woods with Harry making various jokes about the mud- a reference to their last disaster- helped Gemma take the Christmas decorations down whilst Harry pouted the entire time, and had finished almost every evening with records playing, cups of tea, and long conversations as they sprawled out on Harry's bed.

Harry had been as lovely as he always was. Going about the days ignoring the tension, keeping his questions to himself although he was entitled to ask, being that he was in those photos too and it was as much his situation as it was Louis'. It almost made him feel guilty, selfishly stuck inside his own head, crawling deeper into his web of self pity that he was too caught up to ask how Harry felt about all this, if he was okay.

He shook his head, bit harshly at his lip, and rubbed a trembling hand across his forehead as if to rid himself of his guilt. Then, a dip in the mattress behind him, barely noticeable, and soft fur curling around his waist. He looked down to find Lola stepping carefully onto his lap, obscuring his view of the newspaper, and then heard Harrys exasperated voice drifting from the doorway.

"Lola, no" Harry rushed over, swiftly plucked the kitten from his lap, and cradled her as he sent Louis an apologetic frown. "I'm sorry, I tried to stop her, thought you might want some privacy"

"She's a kitten, Harry" He couldn't help his small, amused smile. Harry worries too much at times, excessively. "I'm not being disturbed by something that can't speak"

"I know I just-" He sighed, looking helplessly at his feet. Pink had surged up his neck, blossoming under his cheeks, almost as vibrant as the pink of his bitten lips. "Sorry, would you like her to stay?"

"I don't mind" Louis shrugged, toying with the corners of the newspaper. His eyes caught the photo printed on the middle of the cover, him straddling Harry, pinning his arms above his head. He winced, looked away, and remembered his own scolding thoughts from a moment ago. This was as much Harry's story as it was his own. "You can stay too, if you'd like?"

Harry raised his brows in surprise, pausing where he was scratching behind Lola's ear. "You sure?" He asked, but was already taking his place besides him on the bed, setting Lola down onto his own lap.

Louis nodded, re-reading the headline as his fingers twitched where he held the corner, as if unable to turn the page, unwilling to read on as instructed under the title. "I'm a bit nervous to read it" He admitted under his breath, knowing that Harry would have something encouraging to say, nearly hoping for it.

"That's understandable" Harry hummed, not quite encouraging but... reassuring at least.

"My dads probably read it by now, and I keep thinking that like, if I ignore it, if I don't read, then at least I can pretend I have no idea what he's talking about when he confronts me about it" He looks to Harry to find him already staring back, so intently that his eyes flick away again. "It doesn't really make any sense"

"No, it does. You think you'll be more believable, right?" He checks, and Louis nods again. "Because you won't know exactly what everyone's saying, even though you know that this article has been published"

"Yeah, but like, I do want to read it too. I want to know what they're saying, how bad they've made it out to be" Harry furrows his brows and Louis is quick to correct himself, "I don't mean bad, just- how much they've twisted it, I don't know"

Harry nods slowly, peering down at the newspaper, "I can read it to you if that makes it any easier?"

It probably would. Not for any benefit of not having to look at the paper, or having Harrys voice to focus on rather than his own thoughts, though those were helpful, but for taking away any chances of him tearing up the pages halfway through in a burst of rage that he was sure would come. "Yeah, please" He handed the paper over and Lola crawled into his lap again.

"Alright" Harry drifted a hand across the front page, smoothing out the creases where Louis had gripped the fine paper too hard. "Ready?" He checked, glancing over at Louis with a hesitant expression.

"Might as well get it over with" Louis huffed, his focus trained on Lola and the soft fur under his hands, as if that would be enough to distract him.

Friday, 31st of December.
Tomlinson heir captured closer than necessary with mystery boy.

'Tomlinson' is no rarity in our news today with an empire unmatched on British soil and questions still unanswered about Mark Tomlinson's lucrative business. We know of his success that brings his luxurious lifestyle in which his endeavours often make the front pages, but what doesn't is his son, Louis Tomlinson, who is almost as much a myth as their company seems.

"A myth? I'm a fucking myth now? They write utter shit about me at least once a month" Louis interrupted, his scowl deepening as Harry paused with a raised brow, "What?"

"You wanna let me finish?" Harry replied with faint amusement, gesturing down to the paper.

Louis rolled his eyes and pressed his lips shut, waving for Harry to continue.

Tomlinson, recently turned seventeen, is rarely pictured outside of lavish dinner goings and charity galas, until last Sunday when he was spotted spending Boxing Day in the back garden of a three story modern-rustic home located on the outskirts of Doncaster, enjoying our first snowfall this winter, rather intimately, with an unknown boy-

"See! What did I tell you?" Louis exclaimed, interrupting again. Harry sighed and set the paper back down on his legs. "Intimately my ass, it was a damn snowball fight"

"Look, I know you're pissed off and you have every right to be, but if you comment on every single detail then it's going to take all day to get through this"

"I'm frustrated and you know I'm not good at biting my tongue" He pointed out, sarcastic sounding though there was none in what he was saying.

"Well let's just finish reading and then you can rant to me for as long as you'd like. I'll even make Lola listen so you've got more of an audience"

He wasn't sure that Lola counted as an audience, being that there was a significant language barrier, but he accepted Harrys offer despite the ridiculousness of it, looking down at his small 'audience member' as he willed his lips to, for once, stay shut.

Pictured below we see Tomlinson straddling his 'friend' during what appears to be the final moments of a competitive snowball fight, pining his arms above his head making for a suggestive position. Whether this move was accidental or intentional, we can't say, but what we can is that they remained like this long enough for it to be questionable.

The photographer who obtained these images, who wishes to remain anonymous, expressed his surprise upon what he witnessed and was adamant in his claims that the relationship between Tomlinson and the unknown boy is 'More than friendly', stating that 'They shared an intimate moment together, it seemed serious, I was half expecting some grand love profession by the end of it'

When asked what led him to believe this, other than their proximity, he revealed that he had overheard a few of the words exchanged during the 'intimate moment' the two shared together, with the mystery boy admitting to liking their position, (Tomlinson straddling him), and Louis saying that he was confused, perhaps alluding to his sexuality.

'It went on for a while' The photographer explained, 'They seem very comfortable around each other, very affectionate. You could feel the tension. I know I've never acted in such a way towards my friends which makes me think there's something more going on there'

Although the acceptance and support of the LGBTQ+ community has risen steadily over the past decade, with a wide range of celebrities and social figures finding the bravery to come out to the public, not once has anyone of the Tomlinson name identified as anything other than heterosexual.

Mark Tomlinson's ideology on the subject isn't yet clear, nor is his awareness of his sons budding relationship with this boy, but a potential development in this story in the near future could grant his company its first homosexual CEO, something we are sure would spark controversy, but also pride in those who are members of the LGBTQ+ community.

As of now it's difficult to say how this relationship will progress, and how much we as the public will be able to witness what with how heavily secluded the Tomlinson's private lives are, but we hope that at some point in time some light will be shed on the situation, and we can return to this story with further details.

The article was shorter than he had imagined, fortunately less exaggerated too, and they hadn't wandered into the territory of discreet sexual detail that some journalists like to drop in here and there, such as where his hands were positioned or the fact that his thighs were braced around Harrys hips. The shock factor wasn't as harsh as he had expected, it wasn't quite the article that would have old ladies gasping in disgust and shielding their eyes from scandal, he wasn't ignorant to how it could've easily been so much worse- but it was still bad. It was still something that would get the public talking, it was still something his father would be infuriated by, and it had him tugging at his hair in silent distress as Harrys narration came to a close.

"It wasn't so bad" Harry muttered gently, finally picking his eyes up from the black and white in search for Louis' blues.

"It was fucking dreadful" He disagreed spitefully, running his fingers through his hair again until they snapped back down to his lap, narrowly missing Lola. "More than friendly, grand love profession, feel the fucking tension? All he could feel was the damn stick up his arse from climbing that bush!"

"It could've been worse" Harry offered, and he knew, he couldn't disagree, but Harry can't pretend that it won't be something of significance either. "They didn't, like, directly say we're dating or anything like that"

"They don't fucking have to, that's the point. They write it in a way that forces those opinions on the public. They know what they're doing" Louis grumbled, scooping Lola up and setting her back with Harry so that he could finally stand and pace the room again.

Harry sighed, lightly throwing the paper behind himself on the bed, "Does it really matter that much if the public think we're dating? It's not a bad thing"

"We've already gone over this, you know why I can't have the public thinking that. It's not a matter of if it's right or wrong Harry, it's a matter of my dad thinking it is and I'm the one who's going to get the shit for it"

Harrys eyes followed him as he paced, back and forth, back and forth, it was a wonder they wouldn't stay like that, constantly drifting. "Well it's already out now isn't it, stop worrying over what the public think and start planning your retaliation. You can make a statement, rebuff the claims, just tell them the truth, that it was nothing more than a snowball fight"

But that's not the full truth, is it. "It's not that simple"

"It might not be, but you've got to do something, right? Hell, you could even make a complaint to IPSO on the invasion of privacy, surely they've breached something"

Louis paused, brows furrowing as he turned to Harry. "How do you know about IPSO?"

Harry shrugged, even though he knew his answer, and a faint flush crept up his neck. "Just did some research the past couple of days, thought there must have been something you could do"

He hadn't even noticed. These past few days as he had been pouring over similar instances in the media of invasions of privacy, reading countless documents of press legislation and regulations by which news companies must abide to in search of some kind of loophole or breach, Harry had been doing the exact same thing. It was a boring task, press regulators and media laws shouldn't be something of concern for someone like Harry, but he had done it anyway, for Louis, and all he had praised him for was the extra hours put in to distract him.

"I um- I didn't know, but thanks" He cleared his throat, scratching absently at his jawline, "IPSO don't have a high success rate, though. They dismiss more than half of their complaints and sometimes they even allow breaches of their code, it would be a waste of time. I'll bet they'd pull the 'newsworthy' defence"

"What's that?" Harry asked, and Louis was mildly surprised that he didn't know, what with how much research he had apparently done.

"They can defend their actions by claiming the story is newsworthy, of public interest, which is stupid but the majority of the time they get away with it if a celebrity or public figure is involved"

"What?" Harry almost looked like he didn't believe him, like it was too bizarre to be true. "Surely that can be ruled out when they obtained the information on private property?"

"Nope" Louis pressed out a faux smile, raising his hands to his sides as if to say 'see what I mean?' "Even that can be brushed aside if the story is good enough"

"Shit" Harry breathed out, the first hint of uncertainty he had displayed towards the situation thus far. He was the type to always have a backup plan for his backup plan, he liked alternatives and preferred the attitude of looking on the brighter side rather than Louis' personal favourite: pessimism. It's why he looked so lost now, with all his suggestions being shut down by tricky self-serving laws of the press, wracking his brain for something else to offer.

"Yeah" Louis nodded, feeling strangely smug that he had finally gotten through to Harry, that he was on the verge of accepting defeat alongside him though it was nothing to be happy about. It didn't benefit him that he was right, on the contrary, he wished that Harry still had an argument, some other options to present, but it seemed that he was all out of Harry styles optimism for today. "The photographer will probably get away with it too, he'll argue that he had taken the pictures on public property because he hadn't technically entered the premises"

"But that's not completely true, it isn't a fair argument"

"Yeah, no shit, just like the entire press system isn't fair" He hoped that Harry wasn't taking his snipped responses personally. He doesn't want him to feel as if he's being ungrateful for the help, or that his words were useless, because they're not, really. Everything he was saying was valid, but the problem lies within the defence, of which there were many.

Louis sat down besides Harry again and they remained silent for a while, mulling over the conversation as they came to a dead end. What stood out to Louis about the article was something he had never even thought of before, so caught up in his assumptions of a shocking story and the public's opinion that it hadn't really crossed his mind. It was the way the photographer had viewed their 'relationship', and how complete strangers saw their interactions as something much more than what Louis was aware of.

He hadn't ever really considered how outsiders defined them. He was still in the process of learning the social norms, what was friendly, what was not, how people of an average upbringing socialised with friends, and how it differed with a lover. He never wondered how their constant touching was perceived by Liam, Zayn or Niall, if they had caught the difference in the way they spoke to one another, or if their dependence was anything of significance to them. They'd made countless remarks about it in the past, but back then, when Louis was still oblivious to any ulterior meaning, they had been nothing more than sarcastic jokes.

The realisation was slightly daunting, because if a complete stranger had formed that opinion in such a short space of time, if a journalist had thought the same after viewing a few photographs, then what did everyone else think?

"Just- make a statement" Harry broke the silence with caution, a tired lilt to his voice. "Leave the legal shit to your dad, you can make a statement, but for now let's leave it, yeah? You're going home in the morning, I don't want us to waste this time worrying over a stupid article"

He had forgotten about that, leaving. So much had happened the past few days, and he'd grown so comfortable here that, well. It had slipped his mind. The reminder set an uncomfortable twist off in his stomach, and as much as he'd like to pretend it was solely due to seeing his father again, he knew it also involved the boy sat besides him.

"You're right" He agreed, though he wasn't sure how much of his worries he could put behind himself for the rest of the day. He would try though, not only for Harrys sake, who rightly deserved a stress free New Year's Eve, but for himself too. He wanted to make the most of this. "And I'm sorry, about all of this. You shouldn't get caught up in my drama"

A small smile appeared on Harrys face, "Don't apologise, it's not your fault that some dickhead climbed up the bushes" He joked, and Louis let out a breathy laugh, relieved from the tension that went with it. "Let's just enjoy New Years, have our own mini party or something"

It was the best idea he had heard all morning.

————————

Later, when his nerves had finally subsided and the article had somewhat left his mind, he sat in the living room with Harry and his family as they awaited the New Years countdown which would be broadcasted live from London within an hour.

He was sat next to Harry on a two seat couch, a blanket draped over the both of them and Lola curled up across their laps. Gemma and Michael displayed a similar position on a separate couch diagonal to their own, whilst Andrew and Laura took the remaining chairs angled towards one another. The furniture formed a semi-circle around the TV mounted on the wall, a fireplace blazing below it and a coffee table placed in the centre.

It was cosy, dimly lit with only a few lamps shining around the room and the left over fairy lights strung atop the fireplace from Christmas- Harry not having the heart to take them down just yet. A champagne bottle stood open on the coffee table, along with another that was already empty, and an array of snacks from walkers crisps to salted peanuts sat in their respective bowls around the bottles.

Despite the few scowling glances he had received from Laura, which fortunately weren't as unnerving as usual due to the champagne in his system, he felt relaxed, happy. For as long as he could remember he'd always attended some extravagant New Years party with his father, always held by millionaires in opulent mansions where money had no limit. They were loud, unruly, and left Louis with a headache by the end of the night. To make matters worse, on New Year's Day his father would host his own party, and it wouldn't be a Tomlinson party if it didn't top the one the night before.

In comparison, this was absolute heaven.

Currently Harry was quietly giggling to himself as he sent photos back and forth with Niall on Snapchat, trying out every funny filter he could find one by one, and forcing Louis into a few of his selfies. It probably wouldn't have been so funny had it not been for the fifth flute of champagne they'd had each, and Louis would also use that excuse for why he was giving into Harry's every wish with such ease.

"Try this one" Harry grinned, eyes half lidded as he directed the phone towards Louis so that the filter would register his face. It adjusted for a split second until Louis was pulling away, rolling his eyes for the millionth time as he went through another cycle of avoid, complain, deny and eventual acceptance. "Oh come on! This ones funny I swear"

"You said that about the last ten"

"And did i lie?" He raised a brow, his smirk punctuated by his dimple. "You laughed at them all"

"I laughed at you, for looking so stupid" Louis replied, with a matter-of-fact tone.

"I think you laughed with me" Harry disagreed.

"Does it really matter how I laughed? Doesn't make this any less childish"

"That's rich, coming from you" Harry paused and his head lolled to the side, resting just short of Louis' shoulder whilst his eyes gazed up at him, still half lidded, hazy from the alcohol. "The biggest man child of the century"

Louis gasped, feigning offence, and slapped a hand against his own chest as if physically wounded. "Oh darling, that one hurt, how will I ever recover?"

Harry snorted, pulled his head up slightly and batted Louis' hand down, "See, a man child" He glanced at his phone when another notification from Niall popped up, and took a slow sip of his champagne before clearing his throat. "Liked the nickname though, haven't heard that one in a while. Or any, really"

Louis furrowed his brows. He almost sounded sad when he had said it, or- disappointed maybe. "I call you plenty of nicknames"

"Not recently" He mumbled, opening the Snapchat from Niall which pictured him wearing a pair of neon green sunglasses, surrounded by his cousins as they all held up their drinks of choice, in a crowded, dimly lit room which may or may not actually be a club.

"You're keeping tabs?" He knew Harry had a thing for nicknames, borderline obsession, with the way he would beam if 'curly' or 'bambi' slipped from his lips. He wasn't completely sure why he loved them so much though, not to the point where he would keep track of when and how often he'd be given one.

"No, I just remember I guess" He shrugged indifferently, and pointed the phone towards him again. "Can you try this filter now?"

It didn't end at that, as he had expected. He tried one that enlarged his forehead, another that thinned out his face but shrunk his eyes, one that gave him a nose that resembled Pinocchio and another that gave him lips larger than his chin. Then there was the face swap filter, which surprised the both of them once realising some of their features were rather similar from certain angles, Niall saying the same thing after being sent the photo.

They were about to try another filter when Niall interrupted, his contact displaying on the screen as he attempted to FaceTime them. He half expected Harry to decline, send a message to say he'd call back later in the privacy of his own room in an effort of not disturbing the rest of his family. But, when he answered, and Niall's Irish thrill of a voice blared through the speakers, he then expected disapproving glances from Filch or Laura, a scolding to leave the room, but all that came were peaked eyebrows and subtle grins.

"Where are you?" Harry asked, smiling through his words. His eyes were positively gleaming as he stared down at his phone, where Niall could be seen in a dim room, flashes of red lights appearing on the wall behind him, music thrumming in the background along with the choppy, high pitched accents of possible friends or relatives.

"What?" Niall shouted over the music, his face disappearing from view as he brought the phone towards his ear. Louis bit back a laugh, humoured by Niall's attempt at a FaceTime call when he could barely even hear his own voice.

"I asked where you are" Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes fondly, and turned his phone further towards Louis so that they could both be seen in the corner of the screen.

"Final Fence" Niall replied, with a slight slur to his voice as he flipped the camera and briefly showed the crowded bar of a nightclub. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, along with a shining disco ball, and Louis reckoned the amount of LED lights in there were bright enough to be seen from England.

"How did you even get in?" Harry questioned, Louis wondering the same. He'd only ever been in a club once about a year ago, some popular spot down in London that often housed the elite looking for a dark and non-judgemental space to consume every drug on the market. He'd only passed through just long enough to catch of glimpse of A-list celebrities high off their minds, to a back room where his father would drop in, converse with who he assumed were colleagues only for a moment, then exit out the back again where a Bentley was waiting to whisk them back to their hotel. He'd only been allowed in because of who he was, Mark slyly bribing the bouncer too, so how Niall had made it into a nightclub he had no idea.

"Fake ID" Niall replied, short, to the point. "Plus my cousins know the owner so I guess they let me off, the ID isn't that convincing to be honest"

"Since when did you have a fake ID?"

"My cousin got me one" Niall grinned, struggling to hold his phone and his drink as he fished the card from his pocket. "Look, see" He held it up to the camera, and Louis decided that had Niall's cousins not known the owner, he wouldn't have gotten in. Even a blind man would see the faults of the ID.

Harry squinted at the phone, brows pinching inwards, "Niall, they haven't even spelled your name right" He said, and Andrew let out an amused huff as he absently listened in on the conversation.

Niall frowned and flipped the ID around to take a look, as if he didn't believe what Harry had told him. "Oh, I hadn't even noticed" His confusion morphed into indifference as he pocketed the card again, "Not like the bouncer knows how to spell my name anyway"

"If you say so, Neil"

Louis grinned around the rim of his champagne glass as Niall rolled his eyes, all whilst Harry sat there looking all too proud of himself. "Right I'll speak to Louis then, least he shows some respect for my name"

"Respect?" Harry spluttered, "He only ever calls you an 'Irish something or other'"

"Um, excuse me Harold" Louis swatted his shoulder, raising his brows with faux offence, "I happen to love Niall's name, actually. Maybe even more than yours"

"That's not true" Harry cut Niall off before he could thank Louis, or 'fan girl' over his praise or do something equally as Niall-like, with such certainty that Louis couldn't blame him for having. Of course it's not fucking true.

"But it is, Niall's name is unique. There's tons of Harry's and Harold's around the world. You're not special" He replied, his tone dismissive, bland, but the undertone of sarcasm was still there, as it always was, so that Harry wouldn't get the wrong idea.

He frowned slightly, more of a pout, but Louis knew it had been forced, Harry thankfully hadn't taken him seriously. "But do other Harry's have so many nicknames? I doubt they're called Bambi or curly"

Louis shrugged, "Suppose not, they probably have more conventional nicknames, like babe-" He cringed as it left his mouth, he'd never been a fan of that particular nickname. It always sounded so forced, fake, overused. There's nothing special about 'babe', nothing personal. "Doubt there's another Harry quite as clumsy as you"

Harry's head dipped, smile returning as pink crept up the pale expanse of his neck. He couldn't tell if it was due to embarrassment or something else, not entirely sure why what he had said affected Harry in the way that it did, but he hadn't meant to draw that reaction, not really.

"How the fuck am I third wheeling through a FaceTime call?" Niall said, sounding exasperated, breaking Harry from whatever flustered state he had fallen into.

"Niall" Louis sighed, "You can't third wheel people who aren't even-"

"Oh fuck off" Niall interrupted, and there was an edge to his tone that suggested complete seriousness. "I'm not hearing this bullshit again"

Louis furrowed his brows, sitting up straighter besides Harry as he leant towards the phone, "What?" He asked, for the first time feeling uncertain by Niall's front, unable to tell if he was joking or not. Niall was never confrontational, rarely ever serious, and never took this tone with anyone.

"This whole, 'I'm going to flirt with my best friend and pretend nothing happened' thing"

It could have been the alcohol. Niall didn't seem all too focused on what he was saying, staring off somewhere behind his phone as hands occasionally appeared on his shoulders, pushing him around with jerking motions that unsteadied his camera, blurring with faint wifi interruptions and colourful lights morphing into one another. It was all going a bit fast, too fast for Louis to process, to read him, understand where this sudden abruptness was coming from.

It's why he didn't know what to say, blinking slowly down at the phone, vaguely aware that everyone in the room seemed to have paused after overhearing Niall's statement, tearing their focus away from the ongoing celebrations on tv in favour of Louis' response. They tried to be subtle in their eves dropping, just the slight turning of their heads in his direction, conversations fading out, but he still noticed.

Harry looked like he was holding his breath. Eyes flicking between Louis and his phone, thumb hovering over the red button as if he wanted to hang up, but probably knew that would be too obvious. He would normally laugh something like this off, always did before, ease out Niall's comments with sarcastic wit of his own- but that was the problem, Niall didn't sound sarcastic this time. Finally, he broke the silence, "Niall, I know you're drunk but please shut up yeah?"

Niall scoffed, drawing his head back from the phone as if that wasn't the reaction he was expecting from Harry, wasn't the reaction he wanted. "Mate, I'm doing you a favour here" His brows were knitted, eyes judgemental, that edge to his tone had never left. "Not like anyone else is going to bring it up" He added, muttering, Louis barely caught it over the pounding music of the club.

A favour. Like Niall confronting Louis is something Harry should want. Like Harry has given him that impression. That they've spoken about this before. It set an uncomfortable twist off in his stomach. "The fucks his problem?"

Harry shrugged, biting at his fingernail with his eyes trained on the screen, at Niall, who fortunately hadn't heard Louis' remark. Harry never bites his nails. He thought, absently. That was more of his thing, a bad habit he'd picked up when anxiety fluttered in his stomach. Was Harry anxious? At the notion of this 'favour'. Why?

He felt out of the loop, again, like he had so many times during his stay at the Styles/Filch household. Self-consciousness prickled at his chest with the idea of Niall and Harry's private conversations involving him, like now Niall was referencing something Harry had told him, like they were speaking in a form of code he couldn't understand. Harry's lack of response, the tense line of his shoulders, arm rigid against his own only added to his agitation.

"Niall!" A voice called out through the speakers, the accent thicker than Niall's own, most likely accustomed to living Mullingar all 365 days of the year unlike his friends' brief visits. "Get off your fucking phone and come celebrate"

An arm appeared across Niall's upper chest from behind, then a man, with dirty blonde hair and pale skin, brown eyes from what Louis could tell though it was dark in the club. He looked older than Niall, maybe in his early twenties, and appeared to have already tried every drink behind the bar, slurring his words and clutching Niall as if his knees were about to give.

"I'm talking to Harry" Niall grinned, swaying with the added weight of the man against his back. Louis could relax slightly at the interruption, relief washing over him as Niall momentarily forgot he was doing Harry a 'favour'. "Harry, remember Conor?"

Harry smiled, nodding, apparently relaxing at the interruption too as his shoulders dropped and he shuffled back against the cushions. "How could I forget?"

"Harry!" The man, who Louis now knew as Conor, shouted his name in the same way he had Niall's a moment before, "When you coming back to visit?"

"You've been to Ireland?" Louis questioned before Harry could answer, unsure if Harry had ever mentioned it before.

"Yeah, few years ago. Conor is Niall's cousin" Harry replied, pausing to throw back the last inch of champagne remaining in his glass. "I'll visit sometime next year" He smirked, amused by his own implication of next year being just short of an hour away.

"Who's he with?" Conor suddenly asked, turning to Niall instead of asking Harry himself. Louis was still in frame of the camera, albeit a quarter of his face was cut off, and Niall turned the phone towards his cousin to get a better view. "Is that... I mean, I'm wasted, but that looks like Louis Tomlinson" Conor finished his statement with a disbelieving laugh, as if it sounded ridiculous to his own ears.

"It is Louis Tomlinson" Niall deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "I did mention I go to school with him, if you'd ever listen"

Conor's smile eased out, his lips parted, and his eyes drifted between Niall and the screen in a slow manner as if realisation had just struck his alcohol induced mind. "But- If Harry's with Louis then... the article?"

Louis froze.

"Oh my god" Conor turned to Niall, who's expression had mellowed out into concealed panic, "I thought that guy in the photos looked familiar! Harry and Louis- what the fuck?" He stopped short with another laugh, shaking his head to himself.

Louis pulled away from Harrys side, out of line of the camera, settling himself with his knees drawn up to his chest. Out of his peripherals he could sense the concerned glances Harry was sending his way, thumb hovering over that red button again with wariness of where this conversation was heading. Conor was still laughing, Niall was stuttering out pathetic excuses, and Louis could feel every eye in the room trained on him again.

God, why now? When he'd spent all day trying to rid himself of his worries, tampering down the anxiety with optimistic hope that he could end the year on a good note, celebrate it with Harry, ignore the fucking article until he got back home. He thought the slight hiccup of Niall's flippant behaviour before would be the last of his concerns for the night, something he could quite easily forget. But then, Conor.

"You know it's a load of bullshit, don't listen to the press" Niall said, contradicting his earlier attitude. Louis was surprised, half expecting Niall to encourage Conor, what with him being so adamant on his and Harry's supposed 'relationship'. "They're not dating"

"Looked fruity to me" Conor laughed, again, and Louis wanted to jump through the phone to strangle him. Instead, he grit his teeth, balled up his fists, and took in a deep breath as he stared down at the floor.

"Conor, just fuck off will you, go get me another drink or something" With that, he shrugged his cousin away from his back, pushed him in the direction of the bar, and waved him away with an exasperated grunt.

He wasn't sure what to expect from Niall next. If he had actually read the article himself, seen the photos, if that was an underlying reason for his confrontation earlier. Would Niall revert back to that now that Conor had left? Or would he dismiss the article as nothing but 'bullshit', as he had put it.

He couldn't bring himself to look at the phone, at Harry, or any of the other curious eyes that lingered on his face, surely screwed up with frustration. He simply sat there, leaving Niall to Harry, as his heart thumped away in his chest, the journalists' words jumping back to the front of his mind, and the knowledge that at least one person believed them.

"So, you've read it then?" Harry asked, cautiously, his voice lowered as if Louis wasn't sat at arms length away. He sounded almost as worried as Louis felt, the anticipation of another persons opinion building every second that Niall fussed with his phone, got knocked by another person, his reply hanging in the air, unspoken.

"Course I have, difficult to ignore when it's all anyones talking about online"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Louis' inner voice was screaming.

The camera blurred again as Niall walked through the club, stumbling, still very much intoxicated, until the music faded a touch and he took a seat in an even dimmer corner of the building. He sighed and scratched at his head. "Look, fuck knows what's going on between you two, if you've got a thing going on or not, but I assume you wouldn't want people believing the press either way. Privacy 'n all that"

That's why he defended them then, in front of Conor. Privacy, for something that wasn't even true. He appreciated it, but, there was still that nagging feeling of angst from the way that Niall had explained himself. Like even he, Niall, a close friend of theirs somewhat believed that damn article, was now questioning their relationship all because of some stranger who had written a fabricated story on them.

"We're not dating" Harry replied, weakly.

This is humiliating. Louis wanted to curl up into a ball, tighten his hoodie across his face, better yet- sprint the fuck out of this room and hide in Harry's bed. Anything but sit here trying to convince their friend that they weren't in a romantic relationship whilst Harry's entire family listened in. It was none of their business, nobody's business, not Niall's or Harry's families or the entire population of the UK.

It's private. It's not true. Fuck. Off.

Niall sighed again, "Right, whatever you say mate" He said, voice neutral, like he couldn't be bothered pressing any further. He glanced around, nodding at someone, looked back at his phone before shouting out the time, 11:32. "I've gotta go, countdown starts in a bit but have a good night, yeah? Talk to me when you've come to your senses" He gave a lopsided grin, too quick to work out if it was genuine or not, and then ended the call before Harry could get a word in.

Harry just stared at his phone for a moment, lips parted with words stuck in his throat, not given the chance to voice them. He closed his mouth, locked his phone, and set it back down on the sofa beneath his thighs. Still silent.

Louis ducked his head, distracting himself by picking at his already blunt fingernails, worrying his fresh bitten lips as he looked down at his empty champagne glass slotted between his thighs. Need another drink, he thought, but couldn't bring himself to reach over towards the coffee table to grab the champagne bottle. Reckoned he might even spill it with how badly his hands shook.

Harry was glancing again, kept turning his head as if waiting for Louis to turn his own, to meet his eyes, but he wouldn't. Couldn't. Harry hadn't done anything wrong, of course, they were in the same position here. He just felt so... exposed? Judged? Like nobody believed anything he said, like they were all just sitting there, watching him, waiting for him to say what they wanted to hear. Some grand love profession, Louis wanted to scoff, like the journalist had written. 

Harry began to shuffle closer, minimising the gap that Louis had put between them, "Lou, are you-"

Louis stood up abruptly, finally finding the confidence to unfurl himself, allowing everyone to see him. "Yeah, just. Need some water" It wasn't exactly a lie. His throat felt dry, his nerves were simmering, but really he just couldn't bare to sit in there any longer. He felt scrutinised, humiliated, and he wasn't about to let Harry coddle him like some child being bullied at school, only drawing more attention to him and adding to his embarrassment. He knew he only means well but, he just can't.

He felt their eyes burning holes into his back as he left the room, turning a corner down the hallway to enter the kitchen on fast, unsteadied feet, the alcohol rushing back towards his head after the brief feeling of sobriety. His hands did shake as he pulled a glass from a cabinet, and continued to do so as he flipped the tap on and let the water spill down the edges of the glass, silently scolding himself as it splashed up his arms, dampening his hoodie.

Harry and Louis. Harry and Louis. Harry and Louis. Fuck.

Once managing to fill the glass he leant back against the counter, legs trembling, breaths coming out in short, ragged puffs. He brought the glass up to his lips and gulped down half of it, his breaths coming out shorter, if possible, once swallowing it down.

It's not true. What does it matter?

He repeated this thought for a while, as if training his mind to remember it, to believe it, coaxing himself to calm down because it's not true. Why should Conor matter if it's not true? What does it matter if Niall has his suspicions? Laura's condescending smile shouldn't matter, Filches knowing looks shouldn't matter, Gemma and Michael whispering to one another as they watched them shouldn't matter.

Harry's fingers grazing his skin shouldn't feel like electricity soaring up his arms. Causing Harry to laugh shouldn't feel like a monumental achievement that Louis sought after again and again. Harry's voice shouldn't be the sound that he misses the most when he's back home at the manor, longing to call, longing to listen. His eyes shouldn't be his favourite colour, waking up with Harry in his arms shouldn't be the best part of his day, and he shouldn't feel quite so distraught at the thought of leaving him alone in bed tomorrow morning. It shouldn't because it's not true, they're not dating.

We're not. I'm not-

Laura walked in, holding the empty champagne bottle and a half full bowl of crisps, only sparing him a short, impassive glance before setting the items down and moving towards the fridge. Louis steeled himself, his body tensing as he set down his half empty glass, willing his hands to stop fucking shaking.

She said nothing. Didn't remark on his shaking hands or distressed expression, why he had left in such a haste or why he was standing alone in the kitchen long after getting his water. He realised she probably didn't care. Didn't seem the least concerned by his emotional state or if he was perhaps having a mild panic attack in her kitchen. No, she came here for another bottle of champagne, and a refill of snacks.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved that she hadn't questioned him, not fond of any more confrontation, or offended by her attitude. It had been about a week now. A long week of him trying to prove himself, offering favours and complimenting her in the hopes that she would take a likening to him. She'd seen he and Harry's bond, witnessed the way he treated him, but still, nothing. It was infuriating.

He bit the insides of his lips, hands clenching as he watched her roam about the kitchen. He felt his anger sizzle under his skin, burning it's way through his panic, his confusion, mingling there with his other frenzied emotions, each trying to overpower one another. He couldn't help it when he blurted the question; "Why do you hate me so much?"

She turned, brows rising slowly, lips pulling at the corners as if mocking him, silently laughing at the question. His jaw set in subdued irritation as she turned her back on him and began pouring more crisps into the bowl. "I asked you a question" He grit, glaring at her back.

"I'm not inclined to answer it" Is all she said, without turning, her voice cold, firm. Louis was losing his patience with the woman.

"I deserve to know why" He insisted.

She scoffed as she set down the bag of crisps, turning around again to lean back against the counter, so casually, with her arms crossed defensively against her chest and her eyes narrowed critically. "I don't owe you an explanation, Louis"

It took every ounce of his self control not to roll his eyes. Anyone else he would've probably displayed all of his resentment, from the displeased pinch of his brows to the spiteful purse of his lips, would've already checked off every insult he had stored in his brain, laying heavily on his tongue right now, begging to be spoken.

He swallowed back his insults, withholding them only in fear of Harry's disappointment. Because as cruel as she was to him this past week, she'd spent years showering Harry in affection, love, acceptance at a time of long drawn out grievance. He could respect her for that. Admired it, even. "I know you don't, but I'm asking. I- I don't understand what I've done wrong"

She looked bored as she regarded him, like his question was a nuisance, like he should already know. She was still as intimidating as that first morning Louis had met her, and a similar wave of queasiness hit his stomach like it had back then. "You know..." She paused, lifting a poised hand to brush hair from her eyes, "You really shouldn't be so surprised by what people are saying about that article"

He felt a bit thrown by her response, using the article, of all things, to evade his question. It was the first time she had even acknowledged it, hadn't uttered a word this morning, or in the afternoon as they were setting up the living room for their small get-together. He'd thought himself lucky, was convinced she felt sympathetic enough to keep her comments to herself. Apparently not.

He cleared his throat, fingers twitching at his sides. He despised being told how he should feel, especially by people who barely knew him, as if they had any idea what goes on in his life. He found it completely ignorant. "Why not?"

"Because you're not as good at hiding your feelings as you think you are" The lower half of her face remained placid, but Louis saw the slight pull under her eyes, faint wrinkles deepening where they'd usually form above a smile- or a smirk. It gave away her amusement. "I don't know why you expect other people not to notice. I've seen the way you look at him, it doesn't take an article to figure it out"

The continuing wrestle between anger and anxiety took a sudden leap as panic stamped out his temper, again, like he couldn't get away from it. Is it obvious? No. There's nothing to be obvious. He drew in a sharp breath and adverted his eyes to the floor. It was sort of the first time someone had been direct about it with him. No hints, no suggestions, no skirting around the edges. And no humour at all. She was referring to feelings and certain looks and- she wasn't being careful. She was crossing the line that others had only ever touched, and yet out of everyone he'd be willing to talk to about this, she'd be at the bottom of the list.

What is happening? First Harry, out in the snow, with their riddled conversation that hardly counted as confrontation, but somehow does. Then the article, some journalist outright assuming they're a couple, drawing attention to their body language and 'tension' and 'intimacy' that Louis hadn't given a second thought before. Then Niall with his unusual seriousness and Conor putting two and two together. Now Laura. It was all becoming too much. Like time was running out, building and building towards an end game he knew nothing of.

His throat felt too tight, bringing a hand up to rub the skin there, the Adam's apple beneath it as if that was the source of his discomfort. He still couldn't meet her eyes as he replied, "If that's your impression then I don't understand why you hate me"

She let out a short, airy breath, sounding self-satisfied, "You can't even look at me, your hands are shaking, and you've had this terrified expression on your face ever since the article was brought up" So she does notice. He forced his head up as if to prove a point, though it probably wouldn't matter, he could turn his back to her  and she wouldn't care. "You can't handle the truth, Louis, and you'll end up hurting him because of that"

He nodded slowly, barely, because she wasn't necessarily wrong in what she was saying, but at the same time she had no reason to worry over this if he had no intention of... We're not. Can't hurt him if we aren't-

"So that's why you hate me, because you think I'll hurt him?"

Her lips twisted, she shrugged noncommittally, "Among other things, yes"

Among other things. Another spark of annoyance swept over him. What other things? They'd known each other a week, he couldn't recall a time where he had done anything to piss her off. He thought, perhaps, she just didn't like snobby rich kids, and unfortunately that's what many people perceived him as. That's what he used to be, anyway.

He was about to ask what these 'other things' were when the kitchen door was gently pushed open, and Harry's head peaked through the gap, all worried eyes and pouting lips, most likely concerned with how long he had been gone. He looked a little dazed, too. His movements sluggish, hand gripping the door frame for stability. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked, slurring, further encouraging Louis' assumption that he'd had at least another glass of champagne whilst he was gone.

"No darling, just refilling the snacks" Laura replied, her tone such a quick change that it sounded rehearsed to Louis' ears. "Go easy on that champagne love, you sound drunk"

She laughed when Harry rolled his eyes, mumbling something like 'not drunk' under his breath as he stepped into the kitchen, directing his focus back to Louis. He swayed his way over to him, a shy smile appearing on his lips, and stopped in front of him with his hands clasped behind his back. "You okay?"

Louis smiled, relaxing slightly against the counter and nodded, "I think I should be asking you that. How much have you drank?"

Harry huffed, "Not much, just finished off the other bottle whilst waiting for you"

He raised his brows. No wonder he's drunk. "Harry, there was like, a quarter of a bottle left"

"There was not" Harry smacked playfully at his arm, the pitch of his voice raising defensively.

"Yes, there was" He had to bite down on a grin, somewhat endeared by Harry whenever he was drunk. He'd witnessed how messy it could get, unable to forget the disaster that was Halloween, but when he was like this, bubbly and child-like, flushed cheeks and a dopey smile, it was difficult to scold him for it. He served as a distraction, too. It wasn't as easy to get so lost in all the negative emotions when Harry was embodying joy. "How've you even drank it so quick? I wasn't gone that long"

"Champagne tastes good" He shrugged, turning his head slightly to eye up the new bottle standing on the counter besides Laura.

Laura caught his eye, she glanced at the bottle and firmly shook her head. "Oh no you don't. You've had quite enough already"

Harry groaned, swinging his body round to face her properly, "But it's New Year's Eve, the countdown hasn't even started yet. You can't cut us off now"

"I can if it means saving myself from cleaning up your vomit" She grimaced, almost shuddering at the thought, like it had happened before and she didn't want a repeat. Halloween flashed in Louis' mind again and he couldn't really blame her.

"I don't even feel sick!" He whined, hands coming out to his sides until one of them gestured towards Louis, "And Louis' barely drunk"

"I am a bit tipsy to be fair" He mumbled, still faintly aware of how light his body felt, how fast time seemed to be moving, how words seemed just that bit harder to push past his lips. He was intoxicated, for sure, he was just better at hiding it.

"Tipsy is the definition of barely drunk" Harry quipped, striding over to stand besides Laura, hands securing around the bottle, "Please?"

She stared at him for a moment, contemplating it, probably waging between what she should say as a responsible parent, and what she could say to make Harry happy. In the end all it took for her to give in was another pouty expression from Harry, big eyes pleading with her, as she clicked her tongue against the backs of her teeth, gave a long sigh and muttered "Fine, but don't come running to me when you end up sick"

He gave his signature, winning smile, sing-songed a drawn out 'thank you!' and gave her a one armed hug as he slid the bottle off the counter and clutched it to his chest. Louis just watched him, fondly, from his place across the kitchen, mildly concerned with the realisation that with one look Harry could get just about anything he wanted, and that trait would effortlessly bypass his own refusal too.

Harry then looked up, above and off to the side of Louis' head, and his eyes widened in apparent shock. "Shit, come on" He suddenly grabbed Louis by the arm, dragging him towards the kitchen door, and amidst the rush and slight confusion of Harry's urgency, he looked over his shoulder at the wall where a clock was hanging above the sink. 11:41

He let himself be led by Harry, out the kitchen and down the hallway, insistently tugging at his arm even as Louis made to stop outside the living room. "We're not staying in there" He said when Louis didn't move, "Come on, we haven't got long" He pulled at his arm again and Louis stumbled after him up the stairs.

"I thought we were watching the countdown, you know, the fireworks and shit?" Louis reminded, huffing with the exertion of sprinting up the stairs. It was a miracle Harry hadn't fallen over.

"I'm showing you something better"

Louis couldn't see his face but he knew he was grinning, he could hear the giddiness in his voice at the prospect of including him in something he was clearly very passionate about. He wondered if he'd ever shared it with anybody else, this thing that was supposedly better than Londons annual firework display.

Harry pulled him inside his bedroom, shutting the door behind them, and frantically rushed towards the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. Louis' stomach swooped, uneasiness swarming his chest as Harry opened the door. It was pitch black out there, you couldn't see a thing, not the tree line or the garden or the roads lining the house. Surely not...

"Harry" Louis hesitantly walked towards him, his heart rate spiking as Harry stepped out onto the balcony and blindly searched for something on the wall. "Please don't tell me that-"

"We're going up" Harry finished for him, head peaking back around the wall to look at Louis where he remained in his room, then, a light flicked on outside, bathing the balcony in a soft, orange glow. He didn't look fazed in the slightest.

Louis didn't know what to say. He watched as Harry dipped from view again, down the other end of the balcony where he kept his stool under the table, and eventually heard the screech of plastic being dragged out across the slated floor. His gut churned with the image of Harry pulling out the stool to rest under the roof's ledge, ready to climb his way up, and all he could think of was the darkness, the possible ice up there, and the fact that Harry was far from sober enough to execute his plan successfully.

"Come on, it's no good down here" Harry urged, stepping into the bedroom again. He walked over to Louis, fingers wrapping themselves around his wrist, but paused before he made to move towards the balcony, "You're looking at me as if I've gone mad"

"Uh, yeah, because I think you have" He searched his face for any indication of a joke, hoping he'd find Harrys lips curled up at the corners or the shine of laughter in his eyes. Nothing. "Harry I-" He sighed, dragging a tired hand across his jaw, "It's too dark, and it could be icy up there, it's just not safe. Especially when you're drunk"

"But it's not dark" Harry argued, and Louis was about to protest when he pulled him outside, rushing again, turning him to face the rooftop as he pointed towards the ledge where they'd sat all those days ago. On the wall behind the ledge was a light, identical to the one on the balcony, and it was just bright enough to cast out the shadows along the tiled rooftop they'd need to climb. "I asked Andrew to have someone install lights out here a few years ago because I like to go up there during the night too. It's not easy holding a torch whilst climbing"

"You're telling me that your godparents allow you to climb the roof at night?"

"I left that part out. They were having renovations done anyway and I told them that houses with outdoor lights looked better"

Louis raised a brow, unconvinced. "And they believed that?"

Harry shrugged, "I was younger, still going through a rough patch, I don't think they had the heart to tell me no back then and they didn't ask any questions. Must've just thought I was an aspiring architect"

He could see that, honestly. Harry designing. He had the creativity for it and a skilled hand to sketch out his creations, the talent evident in his Halloween costume design. He let that thought fizzle out as he reminded himself he has more important things to think about, like convincing Harry that this was not a good idea at all. "Right, well, it's still not safe. The ice?"

"You're just assuming there's ice up there" Harry shuffled around him and stepped up onto the stool, Louis' heart punching at his chest until he realised he wasn't yet making his ascent, thank god, and was only checking for ice, his hand smoothing over the rooftop. He turned back to Louis, still on the stool, "No ice, not even frost. The temperature hasn't even been that low since it snowed"

He refused to believe him. It had been freezing the past few days, too cold to even imagine going outside, and it was still cold out now as Louis became aware of the ache in his toes against the chilled slates of the floor. Louis decided that if there isn't ice up there he will begin protesting for climate change awareness. "I don't care, you're drunk and I'm not going to allow your impending death when you fall off the fucking roof"

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm fine, champagne is one of the drinks I'm better at handling" He waved the bottle before holding it out, Louis taking it from him with a relieved smile, waiting for him to hop down from the stool and come back inside. "You're just being dramatic and I'm going up whether you come or not"

Louis' smile fell as Harry turned and pressed his palms flat onto the roof. "Dramatic?!" Louis squawked, his fist tightening around the neck of the bottle as he rushed forwards and grasped a handful of Harrys sweatpants. "I'm being dramatic? Harry this is fucking insane, you are not going up there"

Harry wiggled his leg a few times, trying to release Louis' grip, and looked down at him with a defiant expression. "Yes, I am. I've waited a whole year to do this again"

Louis huffed, struggling to find words that he deemed convincing enough against a stubborn Harry styles who had his mind set on something. More often than not in these situations, nothing he could say would matter. "Do you have a death wish or something?" His arm jolted a few times as Harry kept kicking out at him and he was half tempted to let go of the bottle in favour of wrapping his entire upper body around his legs like a clingy child. "I mean, seriously, are you not worried in the slightest?"

"No" He replied, and on a particularly hard kick he managed to jerk Louis' hand from his sweats, the fabric slipping through his fingers like the rope of an anchor, unable to grasp it again. He regained his posture quickly, put his hands back onto the roof, and pulled his body up.

Louis made to grasp his leg again but just missed as Harry swung his legs up, watching helplessly as they disappeared over the ledge. "Harry!" He called, stepping up onto the stool to get a better look, his nerves rattling with concern as he saw Harry slowly manoeuvring onto his knees.

Please don't fall.

"For fucks sake Harry get down" He called again and Harry ignored him, just continued to crawl up the roof on shaky legs that Louis were worried could collapse at any second. If this was some frightful plan to distract him from all his other worries of the night it was sure as hell working. "You're really putting me in this position right now?"

Harry turned his head to look over his shoulder, Louis not missing the way it caused his body to wobble, his hands flinching outwards as if ready to catch him. Please don't fall. Please don't fucking fall. "What position?"

Louis had to choke down on every curse word he knew, which was probably the entirety of the English dictionary and then some from Urban. He let out a frustrated groan instead, wiping what felt like sweat from his forehead. "Just- this. I now have the responsibility of going up there too to make sure you don't break your fucking neck"

Harry stared at him blankly. "I'm not making you come up here, I'd just rather not miss the countdown"

"You can watch the damn countdown from the safety of the living room!"

He shook his head, mumbling "Not the same" And set off crawling again.

Louis closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and opened them a moment later to stare down at the champagne bottle in his hand. The better idea would be to leave it on the balcony, it would make his ascent easier without the added weight and he wouldn't have to worry about dropping it from such a height. But then he reasoned that Harry had probably brought it up here for a reason, he might even go back down to retrieve it which- no. Fuck no. If he makes it up there without a scratch the first time, he can't imagine he'll have the same luck the second time around.

He looks around, trying to figure out how to do this safely, and only really lands on one option as he begins pulling at the pocket of his hoodie. Or, Harry's hoodie, which fortunately is oversized and has a larger pocket than necessary. He takes the bottle and shoves it inside, pulling the fabric around the glass until it fits snugly against his crotch- the weight of it dragging the entire garment down.

He thinks this whole situation is bizarre as he sets his palms down flat against the roof. Harry's acting like a misbehaving toddler, Louis is climbing a rooftop in pursuit of him, all whilst he has a champagne bottle in the pocket of his (Harry's) hoodie. It's not at all safe, theres more than one other way he could imagine avoiding this situation, like telling Filch that his godson is currently having a wail of a time drunk on top of the roof, but at least it's a New Years he won't be forgetting any time soon; unless they fall, that is.

Harry's already nearing the top when Louis pulls himself up, almost knocking the bottle against the edge of the roof as it swings in the hoodie, and he has to steel himself into not backing out just because Harry has nearly reached safety. He could fall last minute, slip as he turns to sit down, anything, and he'd rather be up there with him if it meant better chances of somehow stopping him. He muttered varying curses under his breath as he began to climb.

"Oh, you're coming up" He heard after a minute, looking up with panting breath to see Harry sat at the top, safe and smiling down at him.

"Yeah, no shit" Louis glared at him, with only slight seriousness to his portrayal of anger, silently more thankful than anything that Harry had made it up with no injuries. "Didn't have much of a choice"

"Yes you-"

"Just shut the fuck up and let me concentrate. Please" He added the last part only for good measure. He wasn't angry, as it may seem, just frustrated, worried, currently scared for his life. He couldn't help but be a bit snippy.

Harry quietened as he climbed the last stretch of the roof, avoiding patches where it was in fact frosty, if not icy, and each time he lifted his head to check the placements of his hands he'd find him staring, shifting, antsy either because he'd like him to hurry up before the countdown begins or because he's equally as worried as Louis had been for him; He'd like to believe the latter. His hands felt numb by the time he made it up and his legs refused to stop shaking even as he turned to sit down on the ledge, releasing a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding.

Harry was still staring once he was sat besides him, maybe waiting for him to say something about the frost he had claimed wasn't on the roof, but as much as he'd like to he opted for stubborn silence instead, keeping his eyes fixed forward as he blindly pulled the champagne bottle from the pocket of his hoodie and stood it in the space between them, waiting for his irritation to subside.

"Sorry, should've brought this up myself" Harry said, taking the bottle into his hands. His fingers traced the cork of the bottle, the wire holding it in place, as if about to pop it open until he set it back down thinking better of it. "Should probably leave it for a bit or it'll explode"

"Yeah" Louis replied dryly, shoving his hands into his now empty pocket. He was refraining from speaking as he tried to calm down, couldn't trust himself not to say something he'd regret, something that Harry doesn't deserve though a lot of it was true. It was reckless climbing up here, it was, quite frankly, a nonsensical idea that had Louis questioning everything he knew about Harry's maturity. It was senseless and irrational and it scared him. Watching him climb up there knowing he wouldn't be able to catch him was absolutely terrifying.

"Hey" Harry nudged him, and when he finally turned to look, with a scowl he couldn't seem to hide, all he found was guilt. He wasn't sure if he could take pleasure in it or not. "I'm safe, and I'm sorry"

Louis shook his head, biting down on a humourless smile at his own betraying emotions for hating the uncertainty in Harry's expression. "You scared the shit out of me"

"I know and I'm sorry but-" Louis' eyebrows raised at the 'but', as if daring Harry to go on with his excuse. When he paused he thought he might actually retract his explanation but it seemed he couldn't help himself, "I mean I've done this countless times in the dark before, I know what I'm doing"

"Not drunk" Louis scoffed.

"You wouldn't know if I had"

"And have you?"

Harry seemed caught by the question, his confidence fading as his rebuttal slipped away. "Well, no not exactly but-"

Louis laughed quietly as he let out a breath, faintly endeared by Harry's attempt at excusing himself. "Do yourself a favour and just admit that it was a stupid idea and I had every right to be worried"

Harry threw his hands up, "Okay okay, fine, I admit it was a bit reckless of me-" Louis made a show of rolling his eyes, "Alright, very reckless of me, you did have the right to be worried and I am sorry. Let's just be thankful we made it up in one piece, yeah?"

"Oh trust me, I'm very fucking thankful"

Harry paused for a moment, like he was hesitant to speak, until he eventually reminded: "We still need to get back down"

Louis just sighed, "Don't even start" And turned to look out into the darkness surrounding them.

It felt different up there during the night, eerie yet calm, the wind was bitter and you couldn't appreciate the scenery. The tips of the trees looked only a faint outline under the dim moonlight, fading into the dark sky with only slight movement giving its existence away. The birds that soared the sky under the days sunlight now roost within the forest, and had Louis been alone without the light behind him, he would've been more disturbed by the ominous noises they made.

He wondered how it didn't bother Harry when he came up here alone, how even under this setting he could still refer it as his 'safe spot', because so far Louis could only describe it as the opposite. Hazardous, creepy. It didn't produce the same affect as it did that first time Harry had brought him up here, with the daylight and the view in all its glory. They'd stayed out until the sun had set but this was different. It hadn't been pitch black until the moment they had decided to go back inside, it hadn't been quite as cold as it was now, and on that day, Louis' mood had been considerably better. He hadn't noticed or cared about the negatives, too caught up in Harry and this wonderful part of himself he'd decided to share with him.

He still wasn't even sure why Harry had brought him up here.

"What did Laura say to you?" He asked, breaking the silence as he pulled out his phone to check the time. 11:52

He stalled, shuffling further back onto the ledge, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands, "Oh, um, nothing much really"

"Didn't seem like nothing"

"She just-" He tapped his fingers along his knees, his composure struggling as the words came to a sudden halt in his throat. He couldn't tell him. He didn't want to give this topic another opportunity to swallow him whole. "She just asked why I'd been in the kitchen for so long, was probably concerned for her snack stock"

Harry laughed, "You're fine unless you touch her cheese and crackers, that's when it gets serious"

Louis raised his brows, nodding once. "Oh she's one of those mums then, cheese, crackers, olives and wine?"

"Exactly" He smiled, "Thinks she's proper fancy, sat there watching the crown with her cheese board and Pinot noir"

"I'll make sure to steer clear of the cheese then" It reminded him of all those women from the galas or fundraisers he'd attended. The wives of the business men, who's smiles never quite reached their eyes with their husbands arms draped around their hips, along the designer dresses they'd bought for them, probably the reason they stayed. It was sad, honestly. Laura seemed like them, but the difference was she'd married a decent man. "She'd fit right in with my fathers' crowd, they do love their cheese boards"

"God, she wouldn't. Cheese boards are where their shared interests end" Harry snorted, brushing a knuckle over his pink tinged nose, already regretting not bringing a coat out. "She was actually invited to Liams fundraiser but refused to go, says all the women there are very... judgemental?"

Louis couldn't help his smirk. "So, she would fit in then"

"Fuck off" He rolled his eyes as he picked up the champagne bottle but a smile still played on his lips. "Forgot to bring up glasses so we're just gonna have to drink from the bottle"

"I don't mind" He appreciated that he didn't have any glasses to bring up the roof along with the bottle anyway. The bottle was a struggle in itself, he can picture vividly the extra glasses slipping from his shaking hands, can hear them smashing against the floor. They wouldn't have made it up either way. "I still don't understand why we're up here though"

Harry paused in twisting the wire from the top of the bottle and pointed towards where should be seen the large hill off to the left side of the house, across the vacant road that divided the garden and the field. Now though, he pointed at nothing, it was too dark to make anything out. Louis would just have to imagine. "Over that hill a few miles down is a small village where we go for shopping and all that. Look in that direction when it hits midnight"

You couldn't see the village from Harry's house even during the day, so Louis couldn't quite follow in what he was supposed to be looking at. "Still doesn't tell me why we're up here" He commented, and Harry ignored him as he focused on the champagne, his hand gripping the cork as he twisted the bottle, waiting for it to give. "Why don't you live down in the village then? Bit antisocial up here isn't it?"

Harry grinned, and before he could answer the cork finally popped, shooting through his thumb and index before bouncing down the roof, champagne spilling atop the rim and over his hand. Louis played off his frightened jolt as Harry took his first swig from the bottle. "Like you can talk, living in that manor in the middle of nowhere" He replied, offering the bottle to him.

"You don't even know where I live" He took the bottle and tipped back a mouthful, pleased by the sweet acidity, how it fizzled against his tongue. Champagne was a definite favourite.

"Everyone knows where you live. I mean, not the exact location, but the manors been featured in enough architecture magazines to figure out you don't live anywhere close to civilisation"

"You read architecture magazines?"

Harry only returned a bored look, and Louis wanted to laugh at how lazy it seemed, his edges softened by the alcohol, his eyes still glassy, the slow tilt of his head, like all of his muscles had relaxed under the influence. When Harry was drunk it was like accompanying someone who hadn't a care in the world, no responsibilities, just a soft, hazy mess and a slight slur to every word. One minute he's bounding up a rooftop with the energy of a child and the second he sits down he looks ready to fall asleep. It was something else, and though Louis enjoyed it he kept the bottle close to his chest, the reminder of climbing back down still itching at his skull.

"It makes sense for me to live away from people, we need the privacy. Just wouldn't have picked Filch and Laura to be the isolated type"

Harry hummed and reached for the bottle again, Louis allowing it for the time being. "They aren't, not really. This was just the nicer house and they had the funds for it. Guess it's nice for Andrew though, what with him being around kids and staff most of the time back at school. It's nice to come back here and have some privacy after months of term"

"And do you mind it? The isolation"

"I prefer it" Harry stopped to drink from the champagne again, his jaw flexing as his head tipped back with the bottle, "I think I'm still a bit frightened of living in a town or village, paranoid, maybe"

He could understand that. The lasting effects. Still to this day he can't stand the sight of doctors, until two months back he was frightened by his mothers bedroom. If he were Harry he wouldn't be so trusting of a neighbourhood either. "Don't blame you"

Harry hummed, drank some more champagne, and silence settled again.

It felt like they were waiting for something. Like this countdown meant more than the end of the year. It obviously meant something much more to Harry, with the way he had been so eager to get up onto the roof, with how he was still checking the time over and over again, with the way he continued to drink the champagne, as if he didn't want to be sober for this moment, like it made it better, easier.

He had noticed the way his leg was shaking over the edge of the roof, his foot jittering against the slates, but Louis couldn't figure out if it was more excitement or nerves, which emotion was making him so antsy. It was as if his face and his body were telling two different stories. His body language presented his anxiety whilst his expression was content, happy even, like he wished it would just hit 12 already. It looked like welcomed trepidation, and Harry was making a beautiful show of it.

Fuck.

They didn't come often, these thoughts. Too repressed to even dare try crawl under his barrier. It was the one thing he seemed to have control of as the rest of it slowly slipped away. He'd accepted his appreciation of Harrys personality, succumbed to the way his body would react when he would do or say something that made him feel so fond. He'd accepted the fact that there was nobody quite like him, and the thought that nobody would ever be able to connect with him, just get him, in the way that Harry does. But his appearance... he still refused to accept how truly beautiful he found him.

How his skin had that constant glow to it, radiant, smooth, the paleness of it in contrast to the red of his lips, vibrant, like they were invariably fresh bitten. How the harsh line of his jaw met the delicate expanse of his neck, begging to be touched, but only granted so by the hair that would curl around it, the trace of his fingers in how it was tousled. It was his eyes, though, that held you captive. Breathtakingly green. So, so emotive. The striking depth to them that sparked intimidation, and the jade that calmed you down.

His beauty would never go unnoticed, it couldn't. But when these thoughts would weave their way in from time to time, a fortunate rarity, Louis could not label them as attraction. Instead, he'd put it down to admiration, like that of an oil painting strung up in a fancy art museum, too divine to believe it was real.

These thoughts were frustrating, he was caught on them every single time, because he knew that if his thoughts could be read, if anyone knew they existed, the jokes and the 'maybes' and the questions would be forgotten. If they knew- Laura and Niall, Conor and the journalist, Harry, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to argue against them. These thoughts, when he couldn't control them, negated every denial that left his lips.

Stop.

He couldn't bare this silence. It let his thoughts wander, to the article, to Niall, to Conor, to Laura, to Harry, back to the article, jumping over to Harry. His father, Liam and Zayn, all the other students- Harry. Harry Harry Harry. And himself. He couldn't afford to think right now. He couldn't allow this silence to manipulate his control.

He let out a long breath. His hands were shaking again. "What time is it?"

Harry was still drinking. He set down the bottle and glanced at his phone. "We've got four minutes"

11:56

Louis nodded and picked up the bottle, "Got any New Years resolutions?" He asked, sipping slowly, and he already knew that Harry would. He'd probably be the rare type to actually stick to them too.

Harry smiled, a faint blush coating his neck. "I do, I have five so far"

Of course he does, and of course he wants to add to his list. "Go on then, tell me"

"First one. I think I'd like to try visit Holmes chapel sometime, see my mates, just- face it, I guess. You know I tried to the other month but I couldn't, it made me panic and, I just don't want to be scared of where I grew up anymore" He explained, toying with his fingers, fidgeting throughout. He could sense that even the thought of it made him uncomfortable.

"That's a big one" He replied, trying to remain at surface level. He didn't want to pry too much on a touchy subject, not now when he could potentially say one wrong thing and ruin the night. He'd let Harry do the talking. "I'll go with you if that would help?"

"It would" He agreed, he looked almost relieved at the offer. "I can't imagine you'd be allowed though"

"I'm here aren't I?" He gestured between them, around the rooftop with mischief in his smile. "Could always just make a run for it again"

Harry shook his head but the smile remained, "I won't let you get into trouble for me"

He tried to protest, explain that it would be his choice and it would be worth it, but Harry cut him off as he distracted with his second resolution. "You remember Becca? The designer at Gucci" Louis thought for a moment before nodding, "Well, I've shown her a few of my designs in the past, she was really impressed by my halloween costume, so she told me that if I built up a portfolio with some fresh designs she would review it with her team and, depending on how I do, they could see about finding me a placement in fashion design if I wanted that after I've completed my education. So my second resolution is to build on my portfolio"

Louis' eyes widened, "Really?" Harry nodded, biting down against his grin, and something akin to pride swelled in his chest. "Wow, that's amazing Haz- but how do you know Becca again? Not anyone just gets those types of opportunities, not that you don't have the talent for it of course-"

"It's fine" Harry waved him off, pulling the bottle closer to himself again, "My mum worked in fashion design, was really good at it actually, worked for a lot of high end brands including Gucci, so that's how I know Becca and a lot of their other staff"

So that's why they shut down the whole shop for him. That's why Becca was so friendly, why it was so personal. That's where Harry's interest in fashion came from, and why he was always so impeccably dressed. Maybe, that's why he was so wealthy. It all suddenly clicked. "Well, this all makes a lot more sense then. Always wondered why you wore Gucci to maths"

Harry snorted out a laugh, "I like to look my best"

"That's an understatement" Louis rolled his eyes, "What's the third then, we haven't got long"

"Right, um, I've realised that my love for music goes beyond just listening to it. I want to create, write, compose it. I enjoyed the process when writing that song for music class and I want to get better at it. Could be a new hobby, I guess"

"So, I'm speaking with the next fashion prodigy and a pop star?" He whistled lowly, "Damn, Styles, might have to get that autograph now, could sell it on eBay in a few years time"

"Shut up" Harry breathed out amusement as he shoved his shoulder, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. "I'd be a rockstar if anything"

"Would you now?" Louis pondered it for a moment, trying to picture Harry up on stage, guitar on hand, belting out some scandalous lyrics. If he were going by the stereotype of a rockstar, drugs, sex and money, Harry didn't quite fit the bill. "I feel like you're too sweet to be a rockstar"

Harry looked mildly offended by the assumption, with the way his brows pinched together and his lips formed a small pout- it only really justified his remark. "Who says there can't be sweet rockstars?"

Louis shrugged, "I think you'd be the first"

Harry just huffed and took another sip of the champagne. "Fourth resolution, not as personal as the others really, I'm not even sure if it counts as a resolution, but I want to go on holiday during summer break. I haven't travelled anywhere other than Ireland since everything that happened, I wasn't capable, mentally" His lips twisted in distaste at what he had admitted, almost as if he was ashamed by it. "I've always wanted to go to Italy"

"Italy's nice" Louis hummed with approval, it was more than nice. Blue skies and vibrant buildings, cobblestone streets and quaint cafés. The food, the culture, the sandy beaches and elegant museums. Harry would love it. "My dads been a few times, they were all work related trips though. He can't have done much sight seeing"

"He's missing out then. Like, there's so much to see, so many places. The colosseum, the grand canal in Venice, the leaning tower, the Uffizi gallery. I want to visit the first Gucci store too, and southern Italy is beautiful"

He'd mentioned the Gucci store before some time ago, and even now Louis still found his obsession with the brand fairly ridiculous, but it was easier to understand now that he knew there was a personal attachment to it, that it was his mothers' passion. He couldn't really blame him for being so interested in the historical side of it, the companies first store. The rest of it, he could understand completely. Italy also happened to be on his bucket list for places to visit, and he was tempted to offer taking Harry during summer until he realised he might be imposing. This wasn't about him, and Harry hadn't mentioned wanting any company.

Harry's phone flashed between them and Louis caught sight of the time. 11:59

"What's the fifth?" He asked, quickly, there might not even be a full minute left. They might have thirty seconds, ten, five. He didn't know, but he felt this conversation should close within the remains of the year.

Harry must have seen the time too, because suddenly that nervous energy was back and his smile had dimmed. He turned his head to glance at the spot he had pointed out earlier, still black, before pocketing his phone and setting down the champagne behind them.

They knew when the countdown had begun when they heard the numbers being called aloud all the way from the living room. 10, 9, 8... He could picture them now, Laura and Filch, Gemma and Michael, stood up in pairs around the Television, arms wrapped around one another, champagne flutes in hand as they counted down with London on screen. Harry shuffled closer, taking up the space where the bottle had rested before and pointed again to the black space where the hill should be. "Look out there"

There was a chance he'd miss whatever it was, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Harry's side profile until his question was answered. 7, 6, 5, "What's the fifth?"

Harry turned, his eyes settled on his again, and beneath his lashes Louis recognised each individual emotion with startling clarity; fear, doubt, longing, determination. It was pouring out of him in a flood of desperation, like the gates had been lifted, swarming his entire being. There was a lack of restraint in his expression that showed Louis the truest form of him, like the mask had been lifted, and the impact of this display, something so real made his head swim.

4, 3, 2, 1... "You"

It knocked the air from his lungs. His muscles felt tense, strung up so tight his body seized with it, pulling inwards in a frenzied attempt to escape the reality of that single word. You.

His eyes were locked, he couldn't move, but through his peripherals a bolt of light shot up through the sky, paving its way through the darkness shrouding the hills, burning its way up, up, up, a shrieking noise chasing after it, until it met its end high above and exploded with a resounding boom, sparks flashing, a rainbow dancing through the air, growing, as if feeding on all of the oxygen- because Louis couldn't breathe.

The colours flitted against Harry's skin, darting across the peak of his cheekbone and fading under the hollow of his neck. His eyes were fierce, analytical, holding the weight of his word whilst searching Louis' face for the outcome of it, the determination flaming still even whilst faced with palpable fear. He didn't seem put off in the slightest as Louis closed in on himself, as if stubbornly assured that this was a front, that the only way through was to maintain his confidence in that something lingering between them.

To Louis, his confidence was alarming. This time Harry wasn't backing down. He wasn't careful with that word, you, he wasn't screening his feelings or confrontation with riddles that left room for back-track. This was it. No more hiding.

His heart was racing. The screeching and the cracks of the fireworks still being shot into the sky sounded muffled compared to his own breathing, heavy and short, stuttering through his chest. He felt this had been building over the past week he had stayed with Harry, just out of reach, never touched upon, just there, always, and along with it he had felt Harry's frustration in the way he'd had to refrain. He should have expected this, it shouldn't feel like such a shock to the system but it did, and he didn't know what to do with it.

And he didn't know what to do when Harry angled his body even further towards him, when he took his hand into his own, a surge of what felt like electricity shooting up his arm. It lay rigid yet boneless in his grip, he froze up, and couldn't have pulled it away even if he wanted to. "I'm tired of pretending" He said, the determination translating into his words, his fingers pressing tighter as if afraid he would run away. It was the only sign of doubt he had shown since uttering that word. You. "This year, more than anything Louis, I want you"

He couldn't speak, his mind drew blank, as if all of a sudden the English language was a foreign concept, something he had never learned at all. His throat felt dry with the absence of words. His vocal chords were twisting and turning, knotting themselves in a haste for something to do, something to say. They had lost complete ability as a result of consternation, because this was entirely new, nobody had ever wanted Louis before, not like this. This confession coming from Harry, of all people, only amplified his shock. He felt utterly overwhelmed.

He had never been looked at with such intensity before. An almost wanton expression, so unrestrained, yearning, craving. He couldn't ignore the part of himself that revelled in it. He'd put it down to his ever feasting ego that was soaking up the confession, gladdened by it, longing for more. That part of him that ached when Harry's gaze flicked down to his lips, and rested there a moment too long before returning to his eyes, questioning, hopeful.

He wasn't ready. He couldn't understand it as Harry leaned in, his movements slow, tentative, his confidence wavering as if giving Louis the chance to withdraw, to finally put an end to this game, this back and fourth play on feelings, this something that he realised now had been going on for months. Harry had always shown it. From the very beginning. He had subconsciously made the decision to remain oblivious, to hide from it up until this very moment where he had no choice. Harry was taking this risk, after all this time, and still- Louis wasn't ready.

He didn't know what he wanted. He hadn't had the time to figure it out because instead of doing so, whilst Harry was now in tune with his feelings, Louis had avoided it entirely. Over the barrier, to the back of his mind, where Harry sat waiting for him, patient, ready. And although Harry had waited, pretended for the sake of him, he couldn't help the bitter thought of 'why now?' Now when Louis could only think of the press and his father, and Laura who forbid this. God, why now?

He thought Harry should've known that this was both the perfect moment and the absolute worst all at once. The setting and the tradition, New Years, fireworks, the safe spot, it makes sense. He can understand his thinking. But had he forgotten everything else? Was he too drunk? Could he not feel how tense he was? Where their knees pressed together and their hands touched, how perplexed he must look as Harry leans in. He was sure, if his fingers brushed lower across the fine skin of his wrist, and felt his pulse racing beneath his fingertips, he would understand.

His fingers never met his wrist, instead they left his hand all together, and for a moment Louis felt he could breathe again at the prospect of Harry giving up, putting that distance back between them, maybe his expression had been enough to convey his panic and sway his judgement after all...

But he was still leaning in. He was closing the distance. And then, his hand was cupping his jaw, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin behind his ear, his thumb pressing lightly against his cheekbone, and Louis felt as if he had just woken up, stunned back to the present as the fireworks grew louder, the air colder, Harry's palm soft yet firm and grounding, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was too real. Too much.

He wasn't ready.

"I- Harry" He shook his head, the hand slipping, and he reached up to grab it, let them fall together to rest where their knees met because that's all he could do, all he could allow as the hope drained from Harrys expression, his confidence fading, disappointment taking its place. He hated that he was the cause for such loss, such an awfully helpless look. "I can't"

He watched as heat bloomed under Harry's skin, embarrassed. He watched as the corners of his lips, ready for endless possibilities before, pulled down into a barely concealed frown, saddened. He watched as his body took a moment longer to pull away, as if struggling to accept the way things had gone, disbelieving. And he watched a flurry of emotions clash through his eyes, the confusion, the hurt, the regret, the fear, yet amongst it all Louis could still see acceptance, understanding, a considerate note that hadn't been lost under the sorrow of rejection. Somehow, that made it worse.

"I'm sorry, shit-" He looked so scared. He sounded it. With how the words sounded forced, strangled, like he hadn't expected to have to say them. He pulled away his hand as if he had been burned, and held it to himself, clenched, as if scolding it for ever reaching out, for touching something that didn't belong to him, yet still wanted it all the same. "I don't- I'm sorry"

Now he was the one shaking his head, mumbling half sentences that consisted of 'I'm sorry's' and 'I don't know's' and 'I shouldn't have's' with swear words dotted between. For half of it, it seemed more like he was talking to himself. Cursing his actions like he had cursed his hand, embarrassed, ashamed, regretful. Like instead of focusing on the sting of rejection he was chastising himself for even trying. It was painful to watch.

He couldn't meet his eyes, his head was dipped. "God, I don't know why I- I just thought that-"

"Harry" He cut him off quickly, he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear how Harry was convinced that the feelings were mutual, how sure he was of himself, how he had gotten it so wrong, because that wasn't right at all. Nothing was. And Louis couldn't lie to him, but right now he couldn't tell him the truth either. He wasn't sure what the truth was and he couldn't even begin to try putting his thoughts into words. He couldn't understand it himself.

"I'm sorry" The apologies just kept coming, spilling from his lips as if unsure what to say, but knowing he needed to make things right. Louis wanted to stop him, tell him there was no need to be sorry, but it felt as if there was something lodged in his throat, preventing him from giving any reassurance. "I- I read things wrong and I'm sorry, I was so sure of this I... I didn't want this to happen"

Louis wanted to grimace at his next thought. That for the first time since entering Harry's house, he felt relieved that he'd be leaving in the morning. It was harsh. It was only half true. It was such an ugly thought, a low blow, that he'd never been happier to have not spoken his mind for once. Harry didn't deserve that. This was all just too much. He didn't know what to say, how to act, and he had no idea how they were supposed to move past this. Whatever was between them was one huge fucking mess that left Louis certain on only two things: that it was mostly his fault, and that he had no clue how to fix it.

Harry was still rambling when Louis caught sight of headlights appearing down the road. Two beams drawing closer to the house, along the tall bushes where the pap had climbed all those days ago. He couldn't make out any distinct characteristics of the vehicle in the dark, and he didn't think anything of it until he noticed it was slowing down, coming to a slow halt right outside the gates to Harry's driveway. "Surely not..." He mumbled to himself in a low whisper, his eyes narrowing in on the car, just sitting there with the engine still running and the headlights still on.

Harry finally became silent, the apologies hanging in the air, and a concerned expression rested on his face. "What's wrong?"

Louis paused and drew in a sharp breath, shuffling backwards on the ledge before pushing himself up, "Are you expecting anymore guests?" He asked, walking carefully around Harry to peer over the roof, across the side of the house to the driveway, trying to get a better look at the car. It was still just sitting there, as if waiting to be let through.

Harry frowned, twisting to look up at him. "No, not that I know of, why?"

Louis didn't answer him, just continued to watch the car as his stomach slowly sunk, every nerve in his body telling him what he already knew. This was no stranger. "Oh fuck" his breath quickened as the drivers side door swung open, and with the movement the lights outside the front of the house flashed on, bathing the car in a dim light; A black Bentley. "Shit"

"What's going on?" Harry asked as Louis quickly rounded his back again, sinking down onto the ledge before shuffling over the edge and onto the dark slates of the roof. "Louis"

He felt he didn't have the time to explain, he hadn't much information on the situation himself anyway, and all he could think about was getting down this roof, down to the driveway, and stopping his father before he could make a scene in front of Harry and his family. He couldn't let him do that, especially not on New Years, and especially not on their property, their home. He hadn't wanted to bring this baggage with him, he didn't want to cause any problems, the sole reason for his visit here was to escape all of that and yet again it's managed to follow him.

But Harry sounded so confused, so hurt, and given the previous situation from not even a minute before, the confession and the rejection and Harry verging on having his own panic attack, he couldn't allow him to believe that he was running now from him. "He's here, my dad" He explained vaguely, inching down the roof with far less caution than he had on the way up.

"What?" It wasn't a question, it was surprise, maybe even more than Louis had shown. "Are you sure? It's definitely him?" He asked as he rushed after him, his shoes nipping at Louis' tailbone.

"Who the fuck else would it be Harry?" He grit, trying so badly not to snap at him completely. He'd had enough. He felt drained. It was the press and the confession and Laura and Niall, and Harry. Fuck, Harry. How was he supposed to leave him like this? After everything that had happened. How was he supposed to leave with this unresolved? When Harry looked like he could burst into tears at any moment, the denial resting heavily against his chest like dead weight. He wanted to leave for the sake of himself, he needed time alone, time to think, but he didn't want to leave Harry like this, so uncertain with so much more left to say. With the way things were looking, he wouldn't have a choice.

"Well did you see him?" Harry countered, stopping for a moment as Louis reached the bottom and turned onto his knees, blindly swinging his leg down in search of the stool.

"Didn't see his face, no, but I saw his car" He was out of breath by the time he made it down, partly because of the rush, mainly because he couldn't quite grasp anything that had happened in the past five minutes. Harry had confessed, and now his dad was here. He couldn't tell if he felt bitter or not by his appearance, half of him just wanting to talk it out with Harry, half of him grateful for the quick escape. He knew, however, which Harry would prefer. He could feel it in the way he took too long to reply, as if swallowing down anything relating to the incident, knowing they no longer had the time to speak on it.

Harry jumped down onto the stool and followed him back into the bedroom, "How did he find you?"

"I don't know Harry" He mumbled as he swiped his bag from the floor, throwing it onto the bed before darting about the room in search of his belongings. His hoodie, his charger, his wallet, his phone, dashing into the bathroom to collect his toiletries, and back into the bedroom to stuff it all into his bag. He was sure he was missing a few things that he couldn't remember nor find right now, but that wasn't exactly his biggest concern amongst all the others.

"Did you text him?"

Louis paused. He looked up at Harry, standing on the other side of the bed, and he realised he was being serious. The anxious tilt to his mouth, the wide, defeated eyes, holding himself so self-consciously. "No, of course I didn't, how would he have even gotten here so fast?"

"I don't know" He looked down again, his eyes lingering on his bag, and Louis let out a long sigh. Harry never did well with goodbyes, even more so on a bad note.

"This has nothing to do with- that" He waved his hands a little, between the two of them, towards the ceiling. Harry just nodded, barely. "Just shitty timing, as always"

"As always" Harry agreed, humming a little, still eyeing Louis' bag.

Louis waited another beat, waited for Harry to say something more, about him leaving or about the rooftop, anything. He knew he wanted to, he could see it, but nothing came. He sucked in a breath and zipped his bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he tried to think of nothing else but getting his father as far away from Harry's house as possible. Everything else would have to wait.

He left the room without a word, as did Harry, who followed behind him as he hurried down the stairs, through the hallway, and to the front door where through the blurred glass he could make out the headlights still shining from the car. Back down the hallway he could hear the muffled sounds of the ongoing celebrations, Filch and Laura, Gemma and Michael, blissfully unaware of Harry and Louis, what had happened up on the rooftop, and how for them the celebrations had barely begun, and already ended.

He tried to shake the sadness that washed over him, the longing to be in there with them too, with Harry by his side sipping champagne and toasting the new year. Smiling, embracing, laughing. Singing the classics and dancing throughout them. He wanted that, Harry even more so, he was sure. But he had made his choice. He'd just have to accept it.

He chewed at his lip as he reached out for the door handle, his heart racing again, his nerves jumping, and was about to press down until a hand brushed across his shoulder blades. "Louis" He turned and Harry was right there, just a breath away, looking so, so small with his shoulders hunched and his chin dipped, his hand now ghosting across his upper arm as if tempted to just grip and hold and keep him here where he was safe, away from the man on the other side of the door. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to ruin this"

He wasn't sure what he was referring to. The night in general or their relationship. But if Louis could find it in himself to speak, if he wasn't so scared of the fragility between them, he would have told him that he hadn't ruined anything. It was all down to him. It was his choice, and he hadn't allowed for that something to bloom. He just wasn't ready, and that wasn't Harry's fault.

Instead of using his words he pulled Harry in. He reached up, wrapped his arms around his neck, and allowed their chests to touch, allowed Harry to grip his waist, allowed his breath to coat his skin because that was all he could manage. He couldn't give Harry what he truly wanted, but for now, he could give him reassurance.

It lingered, and it was harder to pull away than it had been to initiate, but eventually they separated themselves, fingers brushing as Harry stepped away, clear reluctance shining in his eyes as he forced his lips up into a dull half smile.

Louis returned it, his smile probably looked as miserable as it had felt, and then he opened the front door, pausing before he stepped outside. "Thank you" He said, adding "For everything" with another wave of his hand, gesturing to his house, the place he felt more accustomed to, more at home in than the manor after only a short weeks stay. He wasn't prepared for how much he knew he would miss it.

Harry just nodded and he took that as his cue to leave. He stepped outside, unable to bring himself to look back, and shut the door behind himself with a thud that echoed in his ears. Across the driveway, waiting behind the gate, the car was still running and a figure leaned against it, his features hidden beneath the shadows casted by the bushes. Not knowing this persons face didn't deter him as he finally pushed forward, adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he knew whoever it was, his father or a colleague or an assistant or a driver, they were here for him and he wouldn't keep them waiting.

He left exactly as he had arrived, with a hug that spoke more words than he could ever say.

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Author notes:

Sooo... I'd say I'm back from hiatus but that's a touchy subject, isn't it.

Anyway, I'm back!!!!

This feels so fucking weird and I've never been more relieved to finish a chapter in my life. I'm sorry it took so long. If you weren't aware I had to take a break from writing/socials to focus on my mental health for a while. It got pretty bad sometime after posting the last chapter and I needed to take a step back from everything, but I'm getting professional help now and I'm taking it one day at a time.

It's nice to write again, I haven't lost my passion for it, so to all of the people I saw commenting shit like 'she's not continuing this fic, don't bother reading', please stop spreading false information. Until I make my own announcement saying I won't be continuing this fic, no matter how long the chapters take, I won't be leaving it unfinished. Ok? Good.

But to those of you who stuck around, who are still showing support, I can't thank you enough. I was a little worried that after taking so long to post this chapter a lot of readers would have given up on this fic, so again, thank you, it means the world.

This is the longest chapter yet, nearly 33k words, and it's been one hell of a rollercoaster. I hope you all enjoyed it, don't be discouraged by the ending, I've got it all figured out, and feel free to leave your opinions, I appreciate reading them :)

Chapters won't take this long again, don't worry, and I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas!

Love you all xxx