Louis cries for hours.
He lies in a ball against Harry's chest, and he cries until his chest aches with the hiccups and his face is red and puffy, and it's awful and the sobs rip through him and exhaust him and it's hurting his rib cage and it's uncomfortable in every way possible, but he can't stop it. It's like all the heaviness that's been pooling in Louis' stomach and sticking to his bones is slowly being drained and trickling out of him, and however terrible he might be feeling, he kind of doesn't want to stop crying, either.
Harry just holds him. The spirit doesn't utter a single word as Louis trembles with loss in his arms, and part of him is embarrassed that he can't seem to stop the tears, but there's just-there's so much to cry about.
He still feels sick. He can still feel the rough traces of the souls' fingernails on his skin. So he cries because even when he's safe he's still not, even when it's over and done with he can't escape the reality of it, and Harry is holding him and even though Louis never wants him to let go again, he doesn't want any of the shadows on his own skin to stick to Harry's.
He completely drenches Harry's blue t-shirt, turning it shades darker with salty tears. So he cries because he feels gross and he feels bad for ruining Harry's clothing.
His neck is sore, the marks on his arms are itching, his knuckles are throbbing. He can't feel his toes and his legs are uncomfortably tucked in under his chin. So he cries because his body is tired and hurting, but he doesn't want to move.
Harry rocks them both gently back and forth, kissing the top of Louis' head and Louis can't understand how he hasn't left yet. So he cries because Harry shouldn't stay for this, he really shouldn't because not once before in Louis' life has Louis shown himself to be this vulnerable and pathetic and it must be terrible to watch, but he does stay, and Louis is glad he does. He cries because through his wretched state he still feels a ping of pride for Harry, for Harry being this good at comforting when Louis knows he must struggle with the mechanics of that concept.
It calms down after a while, and Harry is allowed to leave to get them some food. When the spirit returns he's got sandwiches from the cafeteria and a big bottle of water for Louis, because he figures Louis' lost so much of that this afternoon.
He's so lovely. So Louis cries again because Harry is the loveliest person he knows.
That's the way it continues, until the sunlight previously streaming through the window turns soft and dull and casts a colder shade of blue on the clean surfaces of the hospital room. If the beginning of the attack was like turning a full bucket of water upside-down, the end of it is like a little summer stream-it ripples through greens slowly and in its own pace, never quite ebbing off or stopping, but still managing to find peace. Louis is still heartbreakingly sad. But he's calm.
"It's not going to be the end of the world," Harry begins, and his voice is soft like velvet and chocolate when it cuts-no, caresses-through the tranquility of the room. "It can be. I know it sure as hell feels like it. But it's not going to be for you."
Louis' too tired to turn it into another argument, too tired to fight it, too tired to deal with himself and all the messy things that could possibly go wrong. So in this moment, he believes Harry.
"I'm just tired," he breathes.
"I know." The grip around him tightens just a little. "That's okay."
Louis just nods against his chest, focusing on the steady rise-and-fall of it and allows himself to find it safe and comforting. He's run out of both words and tears and anger as of now, so finding a worthy response feels hard.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs at last. "For freaking out on you."
Harry starts shaking his head immediately.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I provoked you. Even if I do think you needed to let it out."
Louis huffs softly.
"Maybe. But it's still embarrassing. I would rather have done it alone."
"Would you really, though?"
No. Louis wouldn't. He says nothing.
"You're not alone." Harry brings a light hand up and down Louis' arms, the soft warmth and tickle of his fingertips feeling somewhat cleansing, a contrast to the previous ripping and clawing he can still not quite push away. "You've had so many visitors here who took time to come and see you and wish you well. Eleanor's been on me like a hawk. Camron came by too, and he-god, he admires you so much. You have a loving family who I've not known for that long but I've seen enough to know that they'd support you through anything. You have Niall, and Liam, and Zayn. You have me. You've had me for a long time."
The words strike him quite unexpectedly, because of course Louis knows this. He knows he has people around him who cares about him, and Harry pointing that out shouldn't startle him as much as it does. Louis is almost ashamed.
But he's also spent what felt like an eternity down in the Darkness, and during that entire time, he felt utterly, painfully alone. Harry was there for him, and he tried his best to keep Louis alive and well, and while that was so sweet of him, the loss Louis felt had rapidly grown so big it swallowed everything else around him. Ultimately, he felt alone in his pain. He felt alone to the point where people empathizing with him didn't matter, because they didn't know exactly what he felt-not even Harry, he was sure at the time. No one else's sympathies mattered because no one knew how to erase it.
Harry reminding him of the support he has now, in this calm following the storm state, makes it start to feel like that matters again. Maybe dealing with what he's feeling doesn't have to mean endless loneliness just because some people he loves need help understanding it.
"Say I were to go to a psychologist," he mumbles. "Not saying I will. But if. If I did, what would that entail?"
Harry smiles into his hair and Louis thinks it sinks into his mind and clears the clouds. Even if just a little bit, just for now.
"We'll figure that out," he promises.
Louis hears the 'we', and he's comforted.
~
Life, after first having rushed so much it's been stumbling over its feet, and then having stood absolutely still without as much as breathing, progressively starts moving at a calm, more structured pace.
It happens as things slowly start to settle around them again-both Louis and Harry can go back to class, catch up with the studies they've lost. Louis can catch up with Eleanor, talk to her about how life on campus has been through this mess, and talking about the adventures he's been on himself, and he's missed her so much. He's missed her so, so much, and he knows she missed him, and this whole thing seems to only bring them closer. Stan comes back, too-Zeus, Thor, Jupiter and Odin together with some highly placed helpers have been working on fixing the portals fervently, and they're finally deeming it safe to travel between them again. It's an emotional reunion, the light in Stan's eyes dimming when he realizes what's happened to Louis and Louis hates that moment more than anything else, but other than that, having Stan back brings nothing but relief, stability, and happiness. Their little trio is back together, and they have so much to discuss. It keeps Louis' mind occupied a lot, so for that especially, he's very thankful.
He doesn't know what punishment Eris is going to face for this, but speculations are shared between students all over the university, and they don't sound kind. He doesn't feel the need to dwell on that-neither does Harry, from what he's gathered. The spirit is likely the only one who has less of a desire than Louis to acknowledge Eris' existence right now.
As for his own mental wellbeing... Well. He's fine most of the time, really-his mood may be swaying up and down and all around the place. He may have a hard time leaving his room or having classes on the underground floor because he can't stand seeing other winged creatures or moving around in dark spaces without his vision going blurry and his heart speeding up until it's threatening to bust his eardrums. He may have a lot of trouble concentrating on things outside of his own upset state in general (it is kind of like he feared-once he let go of the suppression he couldn't tuck it back in). He also has terrible nightmares which wake up both him and Stan more often than not (there's especially this reoccurring one of him trying to outrun an ambiguous force but being slowed down by the sudden decomposition of his own body. There's also one that's completely incoherent except for the feeling of grimy hands being shoved down his throat. Louis honestly doesn't know which one is worse).
Sometimes he wants to peel off or crawl out of his own skin because he doesn't know how to possibly avoid all the things reminding him of his loss when his own body is the most prominent reminder of all. But other than that? He's fine. He's getting by.
He's fine.
On the third day of him being out of the hospital, his mother and sisters come to visit. The gasp that leaves his mother's lips when she sees his wingless shape is unlike anything he's ever heard from her before, and the tears that brim in her eyes are just as unfamiliar-it takes Louis aback in a completely new way, because it's one thing that he himself is hurting, but the fact that he can't limit the burden of his loss to only him weighs him down even more. He loves having them all there, though, loves having them around, even though it's hard to look at them sometimes because they all have their wings-thin, shimmery, reliable, sprouting out from their delicate backs. They look so much like Louis' had.
He doesn't quite know how to feel, all in all. In one sense, he loves having them around, and the concrete reminder that he has so many people caring for him and loving him through this makes him all the more motivated to get better-seeing people cry for him, seeing that by stopping to feel bad himself, he can stop the people he loves from feeling bad, too. (He voiced this to the therapist, who he's started seeing regularly-and they told him that first and foremost he needs to be motivated to get better for himself and to not prioritize other people or rely on them for his improvement. But Louis isn't always in a state where he feels like he deserves to get better, so on those days, he'll think of Lottie's tight embrace, or his mother's glistening eyes, anyway. And it helps, so he'll continue doing it for as long as he needs to.)
In one sense, it helps. But in another, he can't leave his dorm for four days after his family goes back home. The wet streaks on his mother's cheeks burn behind his eyelids every time he as much as blinks, and in that moment his pain feels helplessly, devastatingly contagious. His skin crawls.
So it's pretty safe to say Louis' emotions are generally torn. Torn between crying and yelling, between guilt and vengeance, between hopelessness and hope. It's a constant journey and it's exhausting. It's exhausting to feel so fucking much all the time-he'd thought he had strong and shifting emotions before, but he didn't even know. God, he didn't even know.
So that's Louis. That's Louis, and Louis' family, and Louis' mental health. When none of this preoccupies his mind, it usually falls on one other thing-Harry.
And how are things with Harry? Well.
It's not like they don't see each other-quite the opposite, really. He actually helped Louis with approaching that aforementioned therapist. He talked to Louis about it again and again, discussed everything Louis wanted to discuss, made it sound more and more bearable, and when Louis was ready he came with him to the clinic and he sat in the waiting room for Louis' entire first session, the hopefulness visible on him when he asked how it went. And though Louis didn't quite know how to feel about it yet, didn't quite know if he was comfortable, he smiled just a little and said he'll give it a couple more shots because, well, he figured it doesn't hurt, and the smile that widened across Harry's face felt better than most things do nowadays.
So yeah, he and Harry still talk. They still spend time with each other-but they never stop to catch up in the hallway. They don't study together. At lunch, Louis sits with Eleanor and Stan, and Harry sits with his usual crew, and though he always talks about how much he dislikes them when they're alone, and though Louis always tells him that he can sit with him instead, Harry never does. And that's what's weird. Because Harry's such a vital part in his life, still, but only in the parts still connected to their journey together and it never strays outside of that.
Louis really wants it to stray outside of that. But he doesn't know how to express that just yet. Maybe when he's feeling better.
~
With all this considered, it's not weird that Louis is kind of off in his own world as he walks through the hallway on the second floor, just coming from a study session with Stan and Eleanor. It's quite a busy time right now, and Louis is for once thankful for his size and the possibility it gives him to slip through snug spaces and not having to unwillingly touch anyone passing him.
With that task and his mind being as occupied as it is combined, though, he is startled when a hand lands on his shoulder from nowhere. His train of thought hits the brakes completely, his eyes blowing wide as his body goes stiff, and he immediately shrugs it off. He snaps his head to the left to see who dared just touch him so suddenly, and is met by a curious, brown pair of eyes he's never seen before.
The boy next to him now doesn't really seem to realize how uncomfortable he made Louis for a second, as when Louis slowly starts moving again, he tags along.
"Hey! Louis, right?" he says, his eyebrows twitching for confirmation.
Louis supposes the boy doesn't seem all that bad-he's got long, golden hair and an innocent glint in his eyes which reminds Louis a lot of Liam.
"I'm Florian," he introduces himself. "I'm in your Greek Mythology class?"
"Oh, right," Louis says, even though he really hasn't seen him before. His Greek Mythology class is big, okay, and he never really got a chance to speak to anyone but Eleanor there.
Florian doesn't seem to notice, though, and intertwines his hands in front of him hopefully.
"I was just wondering-do you have anyone to pair up with for that new assignment?"
"Uh, yeah, actually," Louis answers, biting the inside of his cheek. "I'm with Eleanor."
Florian nods, shoulders sinking slightly but he gives him an understanding smile.
"Doesn't hurt to ask, right?" he says, and Louis agrees apologetically.
"It's fine," he assures. "Where are you from?"
"Oh, I'm a Roman helper. Nature assigned, just like you, I'd imagine."
He smiles again, crookedly, and Louis reciprocates it easily. Florian has an aura about him that's very relaxed and unbothered, and Louis quite likes that at a time like this.
"Also," the boy continues, "I just wanted to say that your whole-like, your whole deal? You're so admirable, man. I don't think anyone's ever been able to achieve what you did."
"I mean, I had help along the way from other people," Louis shrugs, a blush creeping onto his face. "Harry did a lot-I wouldn't have survived if it weren't for him. Have people not asked him about it?"
"Well, yeah, some have," Florian hesitates. "The ones who dare. But apparently he said it was all you, so."
The blush that thus far has been hesitant now really flares up on Louis' cheeks at that information, and he looks down on his feet for a moment to hide it best he can. Florian quirks an eyebrow at him and his smile is crooked in an encouraging kind of way.
"Point is, you're a hero. And you deserve all the acknowledgment for what you did."
Louis' ears are blossoming. "Well. Thank you, I suppose."
It's a bit weird, because he's been longing for that heroic status all his life-he's been waiting to prove everyone wrong, to show his worth and capacity. He always had a dream of being meant for something bigger, and, well. He thought when the day finally came that he'd walk through the world a hero, he'd do it with an even straighter back, a head held even higher, gracefully accepting every compliment and relishing in the attention and glory. He didn't think it would make him humble.
Maybe it has to do with the things he had to lose to get there, things he doesn't feel are worthy of any positivity. Maybe it just has to do with the way his journey has put his whole existence into perspective for him, turned his simplistic, idyllic world view upside down to the point where something like glory and fame now appears small.
He thought he'd want the attention and the validation, but truth be told, all he wants now is to have Niall, Liam and Zayn back, have Harry back in the way he had him in the Forest, wants to disappear into that little tight bubble the five of them lived in for what felt like ages. Louis just wants to heal surrounded by the people he cares about. Glory be damned.
The pair is approaching the staircase steadily as they chat back and forth breezily, and when they come close enough Florian slows down a little and gives Louis a hopeful look.
"Where's your next class?"
"Um," Louis fumbles to get his timetable out. He has big problems rememorizing it now, always forgetting where and when he's supposed to go and more often than not ending up just bemusedly meandering about the hallways with no real aim, and so in the end he just thought the best solution would be to always bring it with him. "I have-oh! I have lunch now, actually."
"Ah," Florian nods slowly, pursing his mouth to the side in a sort of regretful manner. "I have Ancient Literature on the third floor, so..."
He pushes back his blond locks and makes a salute motion in goodbye as he starts departing, eyes still on Louis.
"I'll see you around, yeah?" he asks.
"Yeah," Louis says, giving him a bright smile. "'Course."
Florian beams and takes off towards the stairs with skipping steps. Louis giggles a little to himself. He wouldn't mind seeing more of Florian in the future. With that thought, he turns around to start walking in the right direction, only to stop right in his tracks again, overwhelmed with the next surprise.
He finds none other than Harry standing at the other end of the corridor, staring right at him. Other students pass him with curious-and intimidated-looks, but Harry's eyes are glued to Louis with an unreadable sort of clenched expression that makes Louis' stomach tie up with questions.
Louis stays where he is as well, not sure what to make of the situation, and slowly raises both his brows at Harry in clear enquiry. That seems to break Harry out of whatever spell he's in, and the spirit is suddenly striding towards him, his eyes never leaving Louis' and his shoulders too tense to be anything remotely casual.
When they stand face to face, Harry starts speaking directly.
"We should study together today. I'm supposed to write this essay on Grimm's history versus how it's interpreted on Earth and I'm having troubles with it."
Louis blinks bemusedly, staring at Harry's pursed lips and tense shoulders and not knowing what to make of it.
"Um. Yeah, okay. Sure," he manages to get out.
"Good," Harry nods curtly. "Back of the head building at eight."
And that's all Louis gets before the boy is marching off, whooshing past him and Louis can't do much else but stand and just frown at the floor for a while in an attempt at making sense of what just happened.
Well. Back of the head building at eight it is, then.
~
Harry is in a spectacularly bad mood.
It's so ridiculously palpable Louis would laugh at him-if the spirit's grouchiness didn't annoy him so much.
Louis hasn't been feeling his most charitable recently, okay. He's not the most patient of creatures as it is, but what with his own head being as much of a jumble as it is most of the time, he's just lost some of that natural empathy. Don't get him wrong, he absolutely hates it, but he truly can't help it at times if he snaps a little too harshly when Eleanor writes too forcefully for his liking in class, or when the person before him in the lunch line is taking just a little too long deciding what to drink.
But honestly? What makes his blood boil right now is that today isn't even a bad day. They may be few and far inbetween, but he does have his good days, the ones where the rough touches of soulless nails don't linger as violently on his skin, the ones where he doesn't feel on the verge of crying all the time, the ones where he can laugh and enjoy himself and feel a little more like things are going to be okay eventually. Today has been a day like that. Louis woke up by the sun instead of from a nightmare. He watched it rise from his dorm window, and it didn't give him an overwhelming sense of despair, but rather a quiet sort of sadness-though the kind you could probably learn to deal with, Louis supposes. The kind of sadness he figures will one day turn into that slightly aching peace his therapist tells him about when they talk about coming to terms with loss.
Today is a good day. Louis has enjoyed it so far. He's feeling good. So the fact that Harry's just sitting there right now with that infuriating downturn of his mouth and slouched shoulders and won't speak to Louis in more than short snaps or snorts and eyerolls is, quite frankly, mean. It's offensive and annoying and Louis will not have it.
What finally is the last straw of sorts, is when Louis tries-again-to ask if Harry's finding anything of interest in that book of his, and Harry just shrugs, barely even giving him the time of day. Swiftly, Louis snaps his notebook shut a little more roughly than necessary and sighs exasperatedly.
Is Harry really thinking he can get away with inviting Louis to study just to sit and treat him like dirt the entire time? No. No, that's not happening.
"So are you going to tell me what your problem is or what?" he utters with a demanding eyebrow raise.
Harry looks up from his lap, slowly and passively, and his eyes are guarded and dark when they meet Louis' heated gaze. They just stare at each other for a moment before Harry rolls his eyes-again-and turns back to his books.
It makes Louis' fingers itch and his chest flare up intensely. In one swift movement, he hitches closer to Harry and promptly rips his stuff away from his lap, closing the collection of Fairytales from Grimm and throwing it away resolutely.
"Look. You're the one who wanted us to study here today so if you dragged me out here just to be a pain in my ass, I'd rather go and spend time with someone who isn't dead set on acting like a big baby."
That finally seems to break through some sort of barrier of Harry's, because when the spirit's gaze flicks to him this time, there's a new sort of fire there which matches Louis' own a lot better and his fists clench.
"Maybe you should leave, then," he snaps, and his eyes are dark in a way that probably would be terrifying if this weren't Harry and Louis didn't know him like he does.
"What's your deal?" he presses. "Why did you even ask me to be here?"
Harry's mouth purses defiantly.
"Am I not allowed to just want to hang out with you?"
"You have a really funny perception of 'hanging out'."
"Yeah, well, if you don't want to be with me you don't have to. You have your own opinions and I have mine and what you do or think isn't the be-all end-all for me. I'm just fine on my own."
What?
Louis' eyes narrow as Harry shuffles a little so he's turned away from Louis, looking down on his hands in a manner that can only be described as outright childishly stubborn, muttering on about things that are evidently packed with a serious deal of other underlying sentiments he's not putting out there.
"Okay, what the hell is your problem?" Louis asks.
"Nothing, Louis. Just forget it."
Like hell Louis will just forget it. Harry obviously has something on his mind that's causing this ridiculous temper tantrum and Louis isn't going to sit around and just let him be vague and sulky.
So he moves over until he's sitting opposite Harry, determinedly clasping his hands to rest in his folded lap and searches Harry's gaze until the spirit can't ignore it anymore.
"Speak. You obviously have some issues you need to deal with."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"I have to if you decide to treat me like shit and then won't tell me why, don't I?"
The glare Louis receives then is akin staring into the fiery pits of hell (Louis would know by now). Harry's face scrunches up like he's trying to stop the words from bubbling up to the surface, but to no avail they punch their way out, anyway.
"I don't have to tell you anything, Louis! It's not like we're close like that, are we? It's not like I'm obligated to tell you every single thing that's bothering me all the time! I'm not obligated to fucking trust you with stuff! I've told you things about myself over and over and over! I don't have to tell you shit! How about you tell me some stuff for a change?"
Louis doesn't even know how to react at this point. He shakes his head slowly, eyebrows tightly knitted and trying to figure out exactly where this is coming from.
"Alright," he settles for at last. "What do you want me to tell you?"
Harry pauses abruptly, suddenly seeming at loss for words, like he didn't think that far ahead. His mouth hangs open for a while before he snaps it shut and swallows sourly.
"Well," he starts. "Who's that guy you talked to in the hallway?"
That's-certainly not where Louis thought that would go.
It takes him a good couple of moments to even get his thoughts out from the disorder Harry managed to get them in enough to start forming any sort of answer.
"Is this..." he starts, wetting his lower lip in contemplation as his gaze narrows slightly. "Is this about Florian? What, did that three-minute interaction trouble you or something?"
With the way Harry's looking a bit too caught in the headlights, Louis' mouth purses in disapproval. He knows it's probably in Harry's nature to be possessive, but Louis isn't going to have any of it, and if they're going to cold-bloodedly fight about that, then that's something Louis is willing to do.
"No," Harry answers, but he diverts his eyes and scratches his neck. "Not-not really."
"Because I hope you're aware that you don't get to police who I get to talk to and not and that I'm perfectly allowed to make acquaintances with other souls without searching your permission, right?"
"Oh my god, of course I do. That's not what I meant." Louis gets a pointed stare from him, enough to establish that even through the anxious state Harry is obviously in, he's severely unimpressed with the implication that that would be a problem for him. Louis breathes out mentally, but outwardly he just nails Harry with his stare even harder.
"Then what?"
"It just-" Harry looks up to the sky and groans. "It got me thinking, is all, because yeah, he could've been asking you out or something, but what actually stresses me out is that I wouldn't have any idea what your answer would be. Because you haven't told me anything, Louis! I have no idea what to expect from you, if I'm even supposed to expect anything at all-you might not want anything to do with me like that again, and I'd just not know why, if it'd be because-because you don't want me or because you think it's a bad idea or anything, and I wouldn't know! Maybe I don't even have any reason to feel like there is something to talk about at all! I wouldn't know."
By now Harry's bounced up on his feet, and he keeps walking back and forth in a stressed pace, hands running through his hair as if his fingers are trying to reach the words in his mind from the outside.
"I've been completely, unconditionally candid with you this entire time. I've told you how much I admire you, I've made it so clear how much I trust you and like you-I've shown a humiliating amount of vulnerability around you because that's just your effect on me, but you still haven't-you don't say a lot of things back. You joke around, or dodge the whole question. And like, you treat me so well, you show so much kindness and understanding, but-you do that to everyone. You're just a kind creature! You're so unbearably fucking nice!"
He throws his arms out and stops his pacing to look at Louis nearly accusingly-like the fact that Louis shows people decency offends him.
Louis goes through at least three emotional crises within a thirty-second time span.
Firstly; anger. Louis can't lie-this is pissing him off. Has Harry forgotten that Louis had never been more than kissed before he came along? Has he forgotten that Louis trusted him with practically all of his firsts? Has he forgotten the tears Louis spilled, the times he stuck by his side, the way he'd tucked himself into Harry at night? How dare Harry imply that this whole trusting thing is one sided when Louis has never trusted another person as unconditionally or deeply?
Secondly; hesitance. The gods know Louis is one who relies on words-who loves making himself heard, who loves talking things out in every manner one could ever talk something out. He puts a lot of weight in other people's stories-which is why every time Harry opened up, Louis felt it so intensely his heart could burst right through his ribcage with how much importance and meaning it held to him. Every time Harry would tell him something new it would mean the absolute world to him.
So Louis understands the want, the need, for verbal confirmation. And it does strike him then, that in that particular area, maybe he has been lacking. He's proven his trust and affection again and again through various actions, but he's never made clear how different Harry actually is to every single other creature he interacts with. He's been so preoccupied with falling so hard for Harry, that he's never taken the time to stop and question if Harry really understands just to what degree Louis adores him.
It kind of hits him like a blow to the face that even though Louis has been feeling so strongly and so vividly, to the point where he's thought there's no way he can't have been obvious with it, to the point where he'd thought his entire body and aura had to be positively radiating it, Harry's this unsure of how Louis views him.
Thirdly; anger again-with the situation, with Harry not as much but with himself a lot more.
After what feels like an eternity for him but probably an even bigger eternity for Harry, he finally cocks his head and gives Harry the hardest, most determined look he can muster.
"Ask me, then."
Harry opens his mouth, but as he actually processes Louis' words, he stops and just blinks, slightly taken aback.
"What?"
"Just ask me, Harry."
It takes the spirit a while to gather his thoughts, the fume in his demeanor slowly fading and something tired weighing down his shoulders instead.
"What am I to you, Louis?" he finally asks on a helpless exhale.
Louis nods, barely visibly, to himself, and takes a few resolute steps forward. His jaw clenches and unclenches. His eyes never leave Harry's.
"You're fucking everything to me."
The words ring through the evening air, being spoken out loud for the first time, and Harry's whole being changes from exasperated to stunned faster and with more force than a punch in the stomach. It feels freeing, finally putting it out there, and it doesn't take long before Louis' talking again.
"You make me want to work for it, Harry. You make me want the bad and the difficult and the infuriating, you make me want the yelling and swearing and crying and fighting-because that's okay, as long as I'm fighting for you. I've been shielded from every bad thing this existence has to offer my entire life, either by other creatures who thought I needed protection, or by the delicacy of the place I live, or by sheer dumb fucking luck, and I've thought things would come to me easily. Things were supposed to approach me like a soft, pleasant breeze, and if it didn't, it wasn't worth it-but then there was you all of a sudden, who fought me and riled me up and never once treated me like a poor little helpless fairy, and it was hard. It was hard, it is hard, it's probably going to be hard, and you're worth it."
Louis' heart has started beating at the speed of light and with the power of thunder by now, but he doesn't let it show when he starts moving closer and closer to Harry, who's now petrified in his spot. His eyes are blown wide and his lips are bitten raw. He looks like he would when they kissed, and it makes all sorts of shooting stars rush through Louis' stomach, but he needs to get this out first.
He continues when he's so close he can hear Harry's irregular breathing.
"I want you. I want your stupid face and your stupid temper and your stupid pride issues and your stupid, stupid ability to make me want to tear my hair out at any given moment-I want to hold your hand and kiss you in public and brush your hair away from your eyes in the morning when it's tousled from sleep and all that silly, gross stuff enamored people want. I want all the pretty and all the ugly as long as I get to have it with you. I want to amaze you so deeply it makes your bones ache, because you always have me completely floored. I want all of you and only you and I want you to want all of me and only me, too."
The way Louis' pulse manages to both flutter and hammer at the same time is terrifying, but Louis' isn't scared right now. He keeps looking Harry straight in the eyes as he finishes, carefully watching him to make sure his message is getting across. When Harry doesn't show any signs of discomfort with Louis being this close, he dares bringing his hands up to rest on each side of Harry's face, steadying them both.
"You're everything," he murmurs again.
Silence.
Only the distant voices of other students, and the faint chirping of birds ring softly around them as Louis just waits for Harry's response.
And then god, and god-a smile blossoms, brightly and vividly across Harry's face. It grows under Louis' palms until it brightens the spirit's whole appearance, and it's more breath-taking and leaves Louis prouder and more speechless than anything else he's ever managed to grow in his life-makes him value and love his own mouth and voice and words more than he's ever appreciated his hands-because his hands have pulled rosebuds from roots and they've pulled gasps out of Harry's mouth, but they have not made him look so filled with childlike delight and absolute stunned wonder as his words have just managed.
"I," Harry all but whispers. "Yeah. Okay. Or, I mean-me, too."
Something that's awfully close to a grossly endeared beam is tickling Louis' lips, threatening to break out at just the concept of having stunned Harry into ineloquence.
It's enough to finally make Louis lean in the last few inches, capturing Harry's lips with his own. He can taste the hitching of Harry's breath so sweetly, and it's been way too long since they've done this, but it makes everything all the more honeyed, the more quivering, the more vivid.
It feels like home, the way Harry relaxes against him, how his hands follow his sides and the curve of his hips to settle there, burning his fingerprints into Louis' tingling skin as he pulls him closer. Louis does his best to close every possible gap between their torsos, pulling at Harry's sides and the fabric of his shirt and his neck and his hair, intertwining his velvety locks with his fingers and just cherishes. Cherishes Harry's earthy scent, cherishes the small gasps Harry drops onto his tongue, cherishes his petal-like lips and fingertips soothing his skin, cherishes the warmth and the safety and the end of all this longing. Of all this wondering and tip-toeing. It feels like a spell has been broken, but in the very best way possible.
When Harry bites down on Louis' lower lip and lets his hands slide down to his ass, and Louis can't help but moan and buck his hips forward in response, he must regrettably let Harry's mouth go for a second.
"You're not," he says emphatically, "going to make me come in my pants one more time."
Harry huffs out a breathy laugh and pulls them both to the ground. Louis lands in his lap with a soft squeal. All the previous tension, the pitch black in Harry's eyes, his balled fists, his alarmingly clenched jaw-it's completely drained from his body, like his whole being has been completely wiped clean. He looks like spring again, with his raspberry stained lips and rosy cheeks and shiny eyes so gently flicking over Louis' features, and Louis's stomach is about to feel like a meteor shower from how drunk on it he feels already.
"So you have a crush on me, huh?" Harry grins. "Gross. That's so embarrassing for you."
Louis gives him a pointed look and an eyeroll, but he fears his still very prominent smile takes the edge off of it quite a bit.
"You suck," he enlightens him.
"But you still like me."
"Are you seriously fishing for compliments? After all of that? How thirsty are you?"
A giggle works its way out of Harry, a bubbly, quick one, like he couldn't contain it, and his head falls to Louis shoulder. The fact that Louis, single-handedly, got him to be this much of a fairy-tale personified from having been as maddeningly sour as he had been, is the best feeling in the entire world.
"You do, you know," Harry says into his neck. "Amaze me, too. I'm so gone for you."
Louis does nothing when he feels his smirk pull into another wide beam. It feels so, so good, smiling this much. He doesn't even answer, just goes for softly pushing Harry's hair out of his face.
"Do you feel like studying some more or what?" he asks.
Harry tilts his head to the side, and he darts his tongue to run along the corner of his mouth. His eyes fall on Louis' lips again and he purses his own.
"No, I don't really feel like studying," he mutters, and leans in again to mould their lips together a second time. Louis is not late to straddle him and kiss back eagerly. They can do this now.
Studying can wait.
~
The next time Louis sees Harry, he starts out alone in his dorm. Stan has gone away to another couple of friends to study for an impending exam, and while Louis is torn on alone time nowadays-other people tend to exhaust him easily, but the distraction is always welcome and he's scared to be alone with his own thoughts for too long-he's doing quite well. He's shifting between reading, studying, and rearranging his wardrobe, and is in the middle of the second activity when there's a knock on his door.
On Louis' request to enter, the door is being pushed open, and Harry peaks his head inside. Louis can already feel his mood lift-it's been two days since their study session, and though that's a considerably tiny amount of time, Louis' missed him.
"Finally learned to enter rooms the normal way, have you?" he greets him fondly.
Harry gives him a loop-sided smile.
"How are you feeling?"
"Uh, I'm okay. Just a little antsy, I think."
"In the mood for some company?"
"Please."
Harry chuckles and steps inside slowly.
"Hypothetically," he says. "If that company extended not only to me, but to three other creatures, would that still be okay?"
Louis frowns in confusion, eyes narrowing suspiciously, but he nods.
"I suppose," he says slowly. "But that depends on what kind of creatures they'd be."
"If they're creatures you like who really want to see you and have promised not to create too much of a ruckus?"
"I mean. Yeah, sure," Louis says, still not entirely sure where this is going, but figuring that if Harry brought people with him that he wanted Louis to see, Harry must think that Louis would appreciate it, right? Harry's been wonderfully understanding of his mental health so far. Louis trusts him.
Harry's smile widens softly, and he pushes the door wide open to let three other figures stumble inside, squeezing themselves through the door at once in their eagerness.
It's Liam, it's Zayn, and it's Niall, looking just like they did last time he saw them.
Louis doesn't have time to do anything but drop his jaw as they, though with clumsy and jagged movements, rush up to him and envelop him in a hug before he can even react.
"Louis! Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" Niall exclaims into his neck.
"We've been so worried!" Liam speaks into his hair.
"Are you okay?" Zayn asks with his cheek squashed against Louis' shoulder.
And it's such a dear reunion, and Louis has missed them too, longed for the day he may see who's grown to be his close, close friends again-but it's happening too fast for him to process his surprise into happiness. They have him too crowded too suddenly and now he's suffocating, and there's too much pressure on his skin and it's too close and too warm and too much and there are arms wrapping around him and gripping his waist and sneaking around his neck and there are hands getting way too close to-
"Okay, let me go," he gets out, but it sounds choked up and broken, his body recoiling reflexively. "Let me go, let me go, let me go!" he starts again, repeating it faster and faster and with more force and the boys must hear the tinge of panic his words are coated in, because they all release him immediately, making sure to stand up from the bed at least a couple of feet's distance from him.
Air slowly starts to seep back into Louis' lungs.
When the slight anxiety-induced fog is slipping away from his vision and he can see clearly again, he looks around the room to the four faces observing him. Niall and Zayn both look guilty. Liam is looking endlessly worried. Harry's shifting between throwing concerned glances at Louis and strongly disapproving daggers to the back of the other boys' heads.
Louis feels bad, then-this was supposed to be a joyous moment, filled with hugs and laughter, and he and his post traumatic issue with sudden, unprompted intimacy just ruined the whole thing. An awful tension is sneaking its way into the air of the dorm, and Louis wants nothing but to dissipate it.
"Sorry," he blurts out, shaking life into himself again. "Sorry, that was-I'm so happy to see you guys."
He flashes them all a smile, a little too bright but still genuine. He shuffles a little on the bed and pats before him to encourage everyone to sit down. Exchanging hesitant looks, they do, Harry making a point of squeezing his way to Louis' side before anyone else can take the spot. Louis sees Niall raise an eyebrow at it in his peripheral, but decidedly chooses to ignore it.
"Look, Louis, we're sorry," Zayn starts. "We should've thought that through."
Liam and Niall make agreeing noises, and Louis feels small under their concerned gazes. This isn't how he wanted this to go at all.
"Just-just let me decide when to do the hugging, yeah?" he says on a nervous chuckle. "I love you terribly but I'm not good with that kind of stuff right now."
Scattered agreements are heard again, but they die down quickly and Louis would literally rather die than let this get awkward. He bites his thumb nail frenetically, searching in his still a little too messy mind for something to take the focus off of him.
"So, how have you been?" Harry asks swiftly instead. Louis could cry from relief. "Has everything been alright in the Forest?"
He sneaks a hand to rest around Louis' waist as he speaks, slowly and tentatively like he's silently asking Louis for permission, and Louis moves into it willingly.
"You mean when we weren't collectively freaking the fuck out about some slightly altered version of you pulling you both through a portal somewhere we didn't know?" Zayn tilts his head in faux contemplation. "Yeah, ruling that out, things have been pretty alright."
"Of course we've all been worried, us and the rest of your family," Liam assures, and Louis' heart squeezes at that formulation. 'The rest of your family'. Like Liam counts this little group as a family, too.
"They took good care of us, though," he continues. "They helped Zayn all they could too, with the whole-you know, Queen Patricia situation. Everyone there is more or less certain that he's her son."
"Yeah?" Louis looks to Zayn, who nods. There's a glow to his small smile that Louis loves seeing on him. "That's so wonderful, Zayn. I'm so happy for you."
"He'll be coming home with me," Liam states next, posture straightening a little in satisfaction and pride.
The look Zayn flutters Liam's way is quite honestly a little disgusting, that's how lovestruck he appears.
"Yeah, I will. Obviously I have some stuff left to take care of on Earth, but I'm sure it'll all work out. Your mother assured me it would, at least, that they'd be lenient with us considering the situation."
Louis nods compellingly. For a beautiful, magically gifted lost prince who'd found his way back and would need to visit Earth once more to ensure his move back to Grimm? Yeah, Louis is pretty sure he'd be allowed practically anything he demanded.
"Now," Niall pushes gently. "What happened with you two, really? How did you-how did you even escape?"
Are they really going to have to have this conversation, too? Louis supposes they do, but he desperately wishes they didn't. Still, the other boys deserve to know. If they've been walking around for so long, being as worried as they have, they deserve some answers.
"Well," Louis starts, canine tooth biting down on the inside of his lip. "I suppose you know by now that Eris kind of kidnapped Zeus, too?"
He gets three wordless nods in reply.
"Yeah, um. So basically, Eris held Zeus hostage and drugged up on love potion so she could control the portals through him. She had access to everything Zeus had access to. And so... So she's been the one sending us places all this time. Because it all started out as an experiment to her, to test Harry, or whatever. I'm not sure."
"She wanted to see how long we could go before I snapped and killed you," Harry interposes quietly but coldly. "Or at least hurt you really badly."
Liam winces at that, and when he returns his gaze to Louis it's even more pained than before. Niall and Zayn just look more and more at loss with every second.
"Yeah," Louis nods. "That. So she's the one who's been sending us places. Fate didn't do shit. And she made Harry's sister come and get us because she wanted to-she wanted to-"
Louis stops momentarily, tries to swallow down the lump that's starting to form in his throat the closer he comes to the actual description of what went down there.
"Punish us," he grits out between his teeth, and his stomach revolts.
He doesn't know if he can continue from there, already feeling like nails are clawing their way through his throat and veins from trying to get this up-close with it. Luckily, Harry catches on quickly, and the boy tugs Louis just an inch closer so their bodies are pressed against each other, slowly starting to stroke back and forth over Louis' hip bone under his t-shirt.
"She wanted punishment. So she did her damage, and then she imprisoned us in the Darkness for god knows how long," Harry continues steadily, and Louis breathes out in relief at not having to do it himself, and also because Harry kept the Unspeakable Part of it so vague and brief. "And the Darkness has this rule where you have the reactivate the portal from the inside by creating a source of new life. Gemma, my sister, sent us food and other necessities to keep us alive, and that's where Louis came up with the idea to save the food and turn it into soil to grow this enormous plant so we could activate the portal with it. And then we kind of just stormed the place, fought some monsters, grabbed Zeus, and got out of there. Yeah. I think that's the gist of it."
Everything is quiet after that, the other three boys just staring with their jaws dropped and Louis and Harry looking back in slight unease.
"Just casually stormed Tartaros," Zayn breathes. "Got it."
"Harry, wouldn't Eris, you know-you're her s-"
"I'm not her son anymore," Harry interrupts Liam sternly. His whole self must radiate just how done he is with that particular topic of conversation, because no one pushes for an elaboration.
"So-what does that mean for you?" Zayn asks carefully, instead. "Are you still going to work for her?"
"God, no," Harry huffs. "Never again."
"So, what are you going to do? You're not going to have to stray around aimlessly without a home or cause or anything, right? That's not fair."
"No, it's okay. Um, actually," Harry starts, and his tone makes Louis perk up immediately. "I've, uh-I was going to tell you this, Lou. I took up contact with Zeus again yesterday to find a replacement duty for me. He's invited me to spend some time in Olympus on our breaks to figure that out."
Niall raises an eyebrow.
"That's-I mean, don't get me wrong, that's really good. It is. I just-Zeus? You want Zeus to help you? Of all people?"
"I'm not speaking to him because I want to," Harry clarifies quickly. "I'm really not. But he feels like he's in debt to me, and to Louis, so I made him promise a few things to make up for that on his part."
The other boys instantly start showering him with support then, rubbing his back and giving him encouraging words, and it's an incredibly nice moment, this, because Harry looks overwhelmed with how vocal they are about their care for his wellbeing, and Louis will genuinely stop at nothing to make sure that stunned surprise whenever people are kind to him, will go away one day.
But Louis' eyebrows knit as he thinks through what Harry said again, though, and the next moment he tugs at Harry's shirt to gain his attention, so he can give him a puzzled look.
"Things? What things?"
Harry looks down on his lap in a way Louis swears is rather-flustered.
"Well. I made him promise to bring Gemma to safety. And for these three-" he gestures towards Niall, Zayn and Liam, "to be able to visit. And then, um." He makes a pause, and there seems to be a bashful blush creeping onto his face. "Well, that he was going to do everything in his power to makes sure that everything you needed for your recovery, you'd get. You know, free pass to see your family whenever you wanted to, prioritized care from the best healers he can get a hold of-that kind of stuff."
"Oh." An entire garden is suddenly flourishing in Louis' heart at the thought of Harry doing something like that for him, and he makes an urgent mental note to talk to Harry about that later, maybe show his gratitude in a number of ways.
That's how far he gets to explore that idea then, because a sudden, small little sob catches his ear and he snaps out of it to land his gaze on Liam. The boy is just looking at him, like he's about to break, and Louis swears his lower lip is trembling a little.
"It's just-I'm so glad you're alive," Liam exclaims, and there's a sentimental kind of gloss coating his eyes. "It was terrible not knowing where you went-whether you were dead or alive-and now knowing that you've been in the hospital-that you could've very well been dead... It's just so, so good to see you."
The emotional outpour he's starting to have tugs on Louis' heartstrings as well, and he reaches to put a comforting hand on the shape shifter's shoulder.
"Aw, Liam," he coos, smile widening. "I'm here, aren't I? No need to dwell on the past. Let's make a redo of that hug, shall we?"
He gives them all a reassuring look and opens his arms.
Niall, Liam and Zayn react instantly, closing in on him once again except this time slower, more carefully, and Louis has Harry's warm and stabilizing presence on his right side. This time he allows it, he's prepared, and he gets the moment they all wanted. He buries his nose in Niall's shirt, and he squeezes Zayn's shoulder, and he's got Liam on his other side. He feels at home.
This is what he's been wanting, he thinks. This is what's important.
Their moment is interrupted, suddenly, by another knock on the door. Louis frowns and looks to Harry inquisitively. Has he invited more people? If it were Stan, he wouldn't knock. But Harry just gives him a shrug, so it seems the only way to dissolve Louis' confounded state is to reveal whoever's hoping to be let in.
"Come in," he calls out, and the door opens to reveal a certain dwarf-a very out of breath one, at that.
Camron looks like he's just run a marathon with the way his breathing is hitching, and he leans heavily on the doorframe for a few seconds before he can even say hi.
"Camron," Louis says in confusion.
"Hello, Louis," he manages to breathe out, even pushing a smile onto his face when he meets the fairy's wide gaze. "Are you-busy? I was just going to leave something. For you."
"Um." Louis briefly looks back on his four other guests, but he figures that if Camron's come all this way to give him something it'd be very rude of him to just turn him away. Besides, Louis likes Camron. He's sweet, he came by and visited when Louis was still unconscious, and Louis' missed him. They can fit one more. "Yeah, of course. Come in."
Camron lights up even more, then. Louis just watches as he shuffles out and gathers a big, long object wrapped up in a roll of fabric under his arm, stepping inside with a ragged breath and wipes his forehead.
"What's that?" Louis asks curiously, eyeing the roll.
"It's a gift." Camron carefully props it against the wall and gives Louis a nervous look.
"I, um," he tries, scratching his neck. "I came to visit you in the hospital when you were unconscious, and I meant to come back, but-I was just, I was so shaken by the state you were in and I felt that I had to do something, you know? And I'm just me, I'm just a dwarf so there's not a lot I can do, but I still decided to bring you a gift of sorts and it's not the best but-"
"Camron," Louis interrupts kindly, mostly to get the dwarf to calm down a little. "I'm sure it's lovely."
Camron exhales around a nervous smile and nods a little before continuing.
"Anyways. I just kept thinking about that time you offered to make a new cane for me in case Harry didn't return it?" His eyes flacks over to Harry momentarily, but Harry just grimaces a little in shame, and it's visibly a relief for Camron. "Well, you ended up not having to follow up on that, and I'm quite handy with that stuff myself so I wouldn't have expected it of you anyway, but the sentiment still really stuck with me and... Yeah. I'll just leave this for you. I'm not good at many things but as a dwarf I do have my way with handiwork, so."
And with that, he starts to roll out the massive drape to finally reveal his present. Louis' confoundedly furrowed brow loosens up as it slowly dawns upon him what's really standing in front of him.
It's not one present. There are two.
There are two wings standing in front of him. Two whole, handmade wings are right there and Louis just stares.
They're nothing like his old wings-these are large and made of earth colored, thin materials which he thinks will probably look lovely with sunlight filtering through them-like autumn leaves, perhaps-and there are leather bands braided delicately along their edges. It's far from like the light, shimmery spun silver he's always known.
They're the sweetest sight Louis' eyes have ever seen.
He can't even bring himself to utter a single word, just stands there and eyes the creations up and down, down and up, his jaw dropped and his fingers slightly trembling. It's visibly making Camron nervous, and he starts speaking at a rapid pace.
"Now, I know they're not the same and that they could never replace what you used to have, so that's not what I'm trying to do here, but I just couldn't stand the thought of someone as kind as you being deprived of something you love so much, so I-I thought you might want to give them a try at least? They're not magical or anything, we don't learn how to lace carpentry with magic until next year-you strap them on and you hold onto these handles, look here-" he runs his fingers over the leather straps, enhancing the way they loop into something akin to the straps of a backpack and out to the shorter, easily gripable pieces further out. "So it's like a bird's wings, kind of? They'd be like your arms. At least for a start, I'm trying to find ways to evolve the design. Anyways, you'd have to learn how to manoeuvre them and that might be a bit of a hassle, and I know they're bigger than you're used to, but I tried my best to not make them feel clumsy. In time, maybe I could develop the design into something more alike your old ones, I'm already speaking to my professors about it, but for now, this is the closest I could get. But they work! So should you want them, I'm sure it'd be worth it! But. But only if you do want them, that is."
He trails off there, flicking his eyes down on his feet, and Louis has a huge lump in his throat engulfing his vocal chords and his airway. He can't stop staring at the wings in front of him, these so carefully hand-made, simple yet exquisite creations that someone-someone made for him. That Camron made for him, and him alone, out of nothing but his own genuine kind-heartedness.
And they're not what Louis used to have, they're not as effortless, they're not such an obvious part of him, he doesn't know every edge and crook and inch by heart, they're not yet entirely his. They might never be. He realizes this.
They might never be, but they have the chance to become so. They're Louis' shot at somehow still grace treetops and rise with the sun and follow lively rivers just to see where they lead. They're filled to the brink with pure, unaltered hope.
There's nothing he can do except take a shaky step forward, open his arms wide and wrap them around Camron in the tightest, most heartfelt and moved hug he's ever given someone in his life.
"Thank you so much," he breathes out against Camron's neck. "Camron, thank you so, so much."
Camron, who momentarily froze in surprise when Louis first enveloped him in the embrace, finds it in him to relax then, tentatively sneaking his own arms around Louis' middle.
"So I take it you like them, then?" he utters with a faint laugh.
Likes them. Likes them. Like Louis' ever felt stronger about an inanimate object in his entire existence.
"They're perfect," he practically sobs out, tightening his grip on the dwarf. "I love them."
"I hope they'll work well," Camron manages to get out weakly. "They should, I've been very thorough with what materials to use, but-if anything's wrong with them, just take them to me and I'll look at it. Okay?"
Louis nods frantically against Camron's neck, squeezing extra forcefully once before finally pulling back. His eyes must be wet, because Camron's face is slightly smudged, Louis' vision a little blurry and softened.
"I don't know how I could ever repay you-" he starts, and he has to clench every muscle in his face to stop his tears from streaming uncontrollably. This moment is way too important for Louis to be a sobbing, limbless mess, and he feels that if he gives in to the tears, that's exactly what he'll end up as.
"No," Camron cuts him off, shaking his head. "This is me repaying you."
"For what?"
"For being so kind to me. And for-no one else dared to stand up for me or anything, because it was Harry, and no one stands up to him-" he stops himself to for the second time flick his gaze over to Harry apologetically, but Harry just gives him a sad smile that calms his anxieties. "No one stands up to him, but you did. You did like it was the simplest thing in the world. And I really admire you for that. I know people talk a lot about you being a hero now, but to me you always were."
By now, Camron is talking to his feet rather than to Louis, and his face has grown increasingly red, but Louis truly doesn't feel like the dwarf should have anything to feel embarrassed about. Louis' close to choking up again, infinitely moved by those words so much he feels like he might burst, and he hugs Camron one more time.
"You're so bloody wonderful, Camron. You're so great," he says when he pulls away. "You are my friend, you know that, right? You're my dear, dear friend."
And Camron lights up like an open night sky, and he seems to barely know what to do with himself.
"I, um, I should be going," he says, fumbling a little with his cane.
"You're very welcome to stay," Louis offers, but Camron just shakes his head.
"Thank you, but I have some more work to do for my wood tech class that needs to be done. But I'll see you around, yeah?" he doesn't drop his smile for a second as he starts backing towards the door.
"Of course," Louis promises.
"And if you ever need anything regarding the wings, let me know!"
"I will."
"Great." He bumps into the door and opens it quite clumsily, but he doesn't seem bothered by it when he throws Louis one last look. "Bye!"
And he's out of there. Left behind stands Louis, and behind him three other boys, trying to process what just happened. When Louis turns around slowly, Harry is right behind him already, watching him with an expression positively giddy with joy and amazement. Louis can relate.
"You're going to fly again," Harry states, like he can't believe it. Louis nods, pushing away tears for the third time in only minutes. His broken words from the hospital bed rings in the back of his head, the repeated 'I'll never fly again's that ultimately led to his breakdown.
"I'm going to fly again," he breathes now.
"You're going to fly again."
"I'm going to fly again."
And Harry kisses him, right on the mouth, and Louis can't even do anything but lock his arms firmly around his neck and kiss him back because goddammit, he's happy right now, he's completely over the moon for the second time within such a short timespan in a way he didn't think would be possible for the longest while, and he can kiss Harry now, and he wants to, so he does.
Neither of them even realizes that they haven't exactly enlightened the other boys about why this is not an act to be baffled over before they notice how quiet the room has gone. Hesitantly, they break apart to acknowledge their guests.
"...So. Zayn, I believe you owe me three free beers," Niall states, elbowing Zayn lightly in the side.
Zayn groans and throws Harry and Louis a dirty look.
"I'm incredibly happy for you, but could you not have waited for a little while longer to do that?"
"What does Niall mean 'you owe him three free beers'?" Louis presses, completely ignoring both Zayn's statement and the fact that none of them seem surprised at all.
Maybe they haven't been as sneaky as Louis hoped.
"Well, we wanted to bet on money but it's not like that would make a lot of sense if Zayn's going to live in Grimm and I live in Pantheon," Niall shrugs. "So alcohol felt like the next best option. Grimm's supposed to have great beer, I've heard, and I've never tried it."
"What did you even bet on?"
"I thought you two were going to have your shit sorted before today. Zayn thought you'd need more time. Evidently, Zayn didn't have as much faith in you as I did and I'm getting rewarded for that now."
Niall walks over to them, hanging one arm around each of Harry and Louis' shoulders, tugging them close in a weird half-hug.
"I love my job so much," he sighs dreamily. "I knew I felt the energy between you had changed. Thank you guys so much for finally making this work."
Like a whirlwind, he releases them and throws himself onto Stan's bed, hands behind his head. Zayn, whose brow has only furrowed more and more since Niall started talking, finally seems to snap, and he brings his hands down on his thighs roughly.
"I've had enough of this. I've been wondering for so long and I've never gotten the answer and I will get it now so help me God. What the fuck is your job, Niall?"
Niall just laughs, blissful and carefree and he sends Zayn the broadest grin Louis' ever seen on a creature.
"I'm a cupid, dear Zayn. And a damn fucking good one, if I do say so myself."
At first, realization prickles Zayn's perfect face. Then, calculation. Then, outrage once again.
"Wait, and you let me take that bet with you? You let me bet on a relationship against a cupid? You fucking cheater!"
"I did, Zayn! I really did," Niall replies, completely shamelessly.
Zayn just shakes his head.
"Unbelievable," he mutters, and Louis has to stop himself from squealing with glee at Liam scooting closer and intertwining their hands with a stupid smile on his face. He thinks a sound actually does slip out when Zayn's whole demeanor seems to soften from the touch, too.
If there's one person in the room who's even more excited, it's Niall.
"You better start believing!" he declares. "You're soulmates, all of you. Congratulations. You're welcome. I'm fucking welcome."
Harry tugs on Louis waist to come and sit back down on the bed with him, and Louis complies easily.
"So Niall really had it as a mission to get us together, too?" he hums. "And here I went thinking we were rebelling against the odds or something. Who knew."
Louis stiffens a little and scratches his neck.
"Well," he ponders. "I knew? Since Asgard."
"What?" Harry's eyebrows shoot up halfway across his forehead, and he pins Louis with a stare that's supposed to be hurt, but he looks far too amused for Louis to take it seriously. "Seriously? And you didn't tell me?"
"I mean." Louis swallows. "I didn't-I didn't want you to like me because you thought you had to, or like risk you distancing yourself because of it, so. I was waiting for a better time to tell you."
He flicks his eyes up to Harry carefully, but the spirit is just shaking his head fondly.
"There wouldn't have been a chance of that happening."
Louis' insides feel coated in honey.
It's funny, see, because the last time he and Harry were in this room together, things couldn't have been more different. Harry had a viciousness coating his whole aura, Louis hadn't seen a world outside of his own naïve premise. And now here Louis are, Harry's hand in his, and they're happy and warm and safe, and their friends' bickering turns into a surprisingly comfortable background noise, and things are so amiable. Louis would've laughed in your face about it at the beginning of the semester, but Harry's his and he is Harry's and he's going to fly again, and Louis' surroundings seem to be tinted in silver and gold.
Things aren't perfect, he knows-Louis has post traumatic stress disorder, and his wings are prosthetics he doesn't know how to fly yet, and his and Harry's relationship is just starting out. But it's looking up. Louis will learn how to cope, he will learn to fly his new wings, and he will learn how to navigate through a world where Harry Styles is his boyfriend (they haven't even used the term officially yet, but Louis feels confident enough to allow it in his internal monologues). He will learn, and he will grow, and he dares to think he'll be fine one day.
He looks up to Harry again to find him already looking back. His eyes could hold a whole universe on their own. They will never be as cold as they were the first time they stood here again. He squeezes Louis' hand a little tighter for a second and places their entwined fingers in his own lap so he can cover Louis' with both his hands. It's a small but reassuring gesture, and it holds bunches and bunches of promises.
Yeah, Louis thinks. He's going to be just fine.
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