Harry Styles, 2017
"Ni-all." Harry whines, lying upside down on the bed in his new room, head hanging from the edge his arms splayed out, body like a cross.
Without further questions, Harry had decided to move into the castle. It was very spontaneous but Harry had felt so incredibly alone in his house in LA that he was sure it would be fun if he lived together with Niall and soon also Liam, Zayn and Taylor. He had missed England and company so much, in one building like they had shared one in x-Factor days.
And it was a castle, why would he say no.
Niall currently packs all of Harry's stuff into Harry's room, unpacking the boxes and just stuffing the books and clothes where he thinks they could be good. It's more like a whole apartment in one of the two towers.
James had given them a quick tour of the gigantic palace - two towers (one of them belongs to Beyoncé and apparently the other one now to Harry), a huge hall where they would eat, the throne room, a big kitchen, some studios and various music rooms, a lot of empty rooms that are bigger than the flat One Direction shared in good old x-Factor days, a golf course (Niall had practically drooled while looking at it), a fashion and designing room and a football pitch outside.
The second and third floor were for the rooms everyone would sleep in, the former generation, as they call themselves, on the second floor and the new ones on the third.
The spiral staircases were huge, decorated with carpets laying over the stone and creating a titanic atmosphere.
Niall had jumped around and they had to stop their tour, so that he could run down the stairs dramatically, pretending to wear a long dress.
"Harry." Niall imitates Harry's whine and pulls a few books out of Harry's bags to place them on an antique wooden shelf.
Three of them were light blue. These three weren't books, they were photo albums. Photo albums Harry had made years ago, on his and Louis' fourth anniversary and Harry's heart stops as he sees them upside down.
Harry had loved to take photos of special moments with Louis or just photos of Louis.
Photos of Louis drinking tea, naked in Harry's bed, just the blanket laying above his hips, cup in hand. Hair messed up and cheeks a bit flushed from earlier activities.
Louis playing football, the jersey hanging around his tanned shoulders, as he sprints over the field or kicks the ball into the goal skilled.
Louis smoking a cigarette, sitting on the window sill. After Harry had taken the photo, he had climbed onto it to join him and had settled down in between Louis' legs, back against his chest and feeling safe as ever, with one of Louis' arms wrapped around his stomach and the feeling or Louis lips immediately pressed to his cheek, before his head had settled on top of Harry's.
Louis playing the guitar on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed in nothing but boxers and Harry's sweater that was way too big for him hair a complete mess, because he had just woken up next to Harry and had run over to his guitar, because apparently he'd had a great idea for a song. It had been really early in the morning and after Louis had finished writing a few verses, he had thrown himself on Harry and had kissed his whole face and more.
Photos of Louis on the tourbus, on a plane, sleeping, swimming in a hotel pool, photos of Louis and Zayn sun bathing in Las Vegas, Louis making a snow angel in Australia a week later.
And also photos of Louis neck, full of red and purple bruises, because Harry didn't give a fuck about what would be if someone ever found that self-made album.
Harry knew every single one of these pictures, as if they were burned into his mind, he couldn't possibly forget.
Which is why he had never opened the book that meant so much to him ever since he'd made it. He didn't need to.
Harry had loved Louis and always tried to capture the special moments they had shared every single day, even if it was just drinking tea together.
He had taken the photos for when Louis would be gone, for when what they had would be just a memory in a photo album and the iCloud of Harry's phone, just a story he would never be able to tell, just a dream that would vanish as soon as he wakes up.
He had made these albums with this intention. As if he had known...
Fuck.
Niall is looking at him, as a single tear drops from Harry's eye.
As the second one forces its way out, Niall is already by his side, kneeling in front of the bed and looking at Harry with nothing but sympathy. No pity.
Niall knows.
He is one of the few people Harry had told what had happened, he had been there. He had been there for Harry for one year, living with him so that Harry wouldn't have to be alone.
Niall carefully wipes the tears away with his thumb and climbs onto the bed, helping Harry into a sitting position by steadying his shoulders.
"I don't know what to do." Harry manages out and Niall nods, before wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on Harry's without saying another word. Knowing the best way to comfort Harry after all those years- warmth.
"It's okay." He whispers after a while. "It's gonna be fine. Don't worry about it." And these words do something with Harry.
Simple words but they make Harry feel safe because he has Niall and Niall told him it would be fine. Even though Niall is the most childish person on the entire planet and will never grow up, he gives simple weirdly good advice sometimes and his heart is bigger than England.
Harry feels like a middle school boy.
"It feels like we've been living in fast forward." Niall says and Harry lifts his head from his shoulder to look at him.
"What?"
"Another moment passing by." Niall says and sings "up, up, up all night" in a whisper, grin slowly forming on his lips.
"The party's ending but it's now or never. Nobody's going home tonight." Niall slowly starts getting into the rhythm and singing.
"Are you serious right now?" Harry asks, but can't hide the smile on his face as he watches Niall.
"Katy Perry's on replay, she's on replay." Niall bobs his head along to the lyrics.
"DJ got the floor to shake, the floor to shake." He slowly gets more into it and stands up from the bed, pulling Harry with him onto his feet.
He takes Harry's guitar, that lays on the floor since they didn't know where to put it yet and starts playing the chords of up all night.
"People going all the way, yeah all the way. I'm still wide awake." Niall sings and encourages Harry with an animalistic nod to sing the chorus with him.
And Harry does, because Niall is contagious.
When they reach the second chorus, they scream the lyrics on top of their lungs like they had done it in a stadium for forty thousand people.
Niall plays the guitar and they dance on the bed, the floor and the desk, just ever surface possible while singing the main track of the album that had made them famous.
Throwing their heads back and pretending to hold a microphone, pretending to sing for a crowd.
"Up all night." Harry draws out and Niall plays the last chord, then it's quiet again.
"Your life is not a musical, you know that? You can't just start to sing in any situation." Harry says and sits down on the bed, a bit breathless.
"I know, I know. Except... I can. And I will. Next time you're crying just call me and we'll sing rock me." Niall grins and since Harry just turned into his 17 year old self by singing up all night, he decides to throw a pillow at Niall, who squeals, apparently also his 17 year old self again.
He throws the pillow back at Harry, who picks it up and raises it above his head to throw it again.
Niall lets out a childish scream and opens the door to run into the hallway, almost falling over.
Harry follows him, pillow still in hand in a very threatening way. Harry chases Niall down the hallway and the stairs, all the way to the kitchen, where Niall hides behind the kitchen island.
He jumps up from his hiding space, now a pan in hand.
"I have a weapon!" He screams and Harry bends forward, clutching his stomach and laughing.
Niall never fails to make him happy.
After a while where they laughed and joked around, Niall stays in the kitchen for a midnight snack while Harry decides to make his way back up to his room and unpack the last things.
He rounds the corner, smile still visible on his lips, before stopping dead in his tracks.
Louis is standing there, on the carpet right in front of Harry's room door, fist in the air, ready to knock on it.
As he hears the noise, he turns his head around and meets Harry's eyes in a matter of seconds. They look at each other and Louis opens his mouth, closing it again, after nothing comes out.
And before Harry manages to say something himself, to ask what he is doing here, Louis is gone.
Turned around the corner with a big step and disappeared.
Harry closes his eyes for a brief second and swallows hard, trying to control his breathing, bringing a hand to his forehead to massage his temples.
Then he opens his door and walks into his room, his gaze landing on the photo albums that lay on the floor, where Niall had left them earlier.
Maybe just a look. A look won't hurt right?
Oh, how wrong he had been.
Harry closes the door carefully and walks over toward the books, kneeling down on the floor and taking the first one onto his lap.
It only takes two pages, until he closes it harshly, sitting back against the head of his bed, legs spread out on the floor and buries his face in his hands, tears threatening to fall from his eyes again.
On the first page is the only word Louis had written into this book.
"Oops."
Underneath, Harry had written
"Hi."
They had written their favorite words into the album in 2013, drunk and carefree and so in love. Giggling and kissing in between. ("I made an album for us." Harry had said and Louis had almost started crying, telling him how much he loves him about seventy times).
On the second page were six diary entries, written by Harry over the years.
And it were these entries, that already broke 23 year old Harry's heart all over again, and he didn't even come to the photos yet.
2011: Louis hold my hand?
2012: Louis kiss me?
2013: Louis marry me?
2014: Louis why won't you hold my hand anymore?
2015: Louis why won't you look at me?
2016: Louis?