On Thursday, Louis came home early from work with a smile on his face. His ribs were healing quickly, barely giving him any pain anymore. He dropped his bag on the counter, calling out for Harry a few times. He frowned when he got no response.
"Harry? Hazza?"
Padding down the hallway out of the living room, he poked his head into both of the bedrooms, then pushed the bathroom door open. Harry was nowhere to be found.
Louis couldn't help the panic that climbed from his stomach up into his chest, pulling at his heart with a debilitating weight. The apartment itself hadn't changed since he left that morning (Harry never remembered to make his bed, and he always managed to kick his pillows onto the ground in the middle of the night), but it felt completely different. Hollow.
Something was missing: Harry.
Just as Louis was pulling out his phone to call Harry, the front door opened. He rushed back into the living room. He finally let himself breathe when Harry walked into the kitchen, a few bags of groceries in hand.
"Jesus," he murmured, crossing the room in just a few steps as Harry set the bags on the counter. "Where were you?"
Harry's brow creased with confusion. "I was at work."
"Oh. I didn't realize you had a shift today." He didn't even hesitate when he stepped around the counter and gathered Harry up in a hug, puffy winter coat and all. Harry seemed to melt under his touch, and Louis realized that he would never take that feeling for granted again: the special sense of safety that he felt when he had Harry with him. "Was the store okay?"
"Same as always." He cuddled into Louis's chest, running his hands over the older boy's back. He had the longest day. He missed Louis every second that they were apart, so he just let Louis hold him for a minute.
He was still getting used to the idea that Louis was starting to miss him, too.
When Louis pulled back from the hug, he frowned, cupping Harry's face with both hands. "You look tired." He thumbed over the dark circles under his eyes. "Have you not been sleeping well?"
"It's been fine," Harry brushed him off with a tired smile. "Good. Warm."
After that first night that Louis came home from the hospital Harry had gone back to sleeping in his own bed. Anything was better than the streets, and anything was better than being away from Louis.
But his head never quieted anymore. The voices were getting stronger, louder, and even larger in numbers. He knew that they were pointing him toward something, a million different paths to the same outcome, but it took every ounce of energy for him to try to understand them. After a long day like today, all he could do was try to block them out.
"I need to sit down," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. "I've been on my feet all day, and I think they might fall off if I stand up for another second."
"You also need to quit your job," Louis called after him as he padded into the living room.
Harry snorted from the other room. "Absolutely not."
They had already had this conversation a few times. Louis didn't particularly like the thought of Harry working long, inconsistent, low-paying hours at a small grocery store, and he wasn't afraid to tell Harry so. He tried not to mention this fact to Harry, but Louis was already paying for most of both of their living expenses, and he didn't mind at all. He had plenty of money, and he didn't mind sharing it -- especially with someone as kind, unselfish, and hard-working as Harry.
"You clearly don't enjoy it, aside from the discounted groceries. You should find a different one that you actually like. Don't you ever wish that you could work at your booth all the time? Meet new people, talk to them about their traumatic pasts and their life plans?"
Harry didn't reply. Louis frowned.
"Haz?"
When he walked into the living room, Harry was curled up on the couch, his eyes closed. He still had his coat on. It puffed up around his wind-chilled cheeks, practically swallowing him whole.
Louis crouched down in front of the couch, cupping Harry's cheek. "Baby," he spoke softly. "It's only seven. You've got to eat something before you go straight off to sleep."
Harry didn't open his eyes. "I'll make something in a minute," he promised half-heartedly. "I'll make something for both of us. Just give me a minute."
Louis frowned, stroking his thumb over Harry's cheek. As much as he loved Harry's cooking, he didn't love the idea of Harry feeling obligated to make dinner every night. He leaned in to brush his lips over the younger boy's forehead, murmuring a quick "be right back" before padding out of the room.
Harry pouted when Louis left the room. The warmth of his winter coat didn't hold a candle to the power of Louis's touch.
Every new day was a new battle. He knew that he looked bad: the bags under his eyes, the harsh lines of his ribs. He couldn't eat properly, and he couldn't sleep. His brain had become a meeting room, like he was supposed to listen to every newscast in the world at all hours of the day. Harry had deciphered bits and pieces of the headlines, but nowhere near enough to make any sense of them. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even hear Louis come back.
"Scoot." Mumbling a grumpy protest, Harry sat up, letting Louis wiggle in beneath him. Once he had Harry's tired form on his chest, Louis squeezed his waist. "Can you sit up for me, darling?"
"Why?" Harry groaned, burying his face in the older boy's neck.
"I brought you some soup. You've got to eat something."
He opened one eye, surprised. Sure enough, Louis had a mug of soup balanced in his free hand.
"You made this without starting a fire?"
"Hey," Louis complained, pinching Harry's side in reprimand. "Rude."
Harry smiled sleepily, accepting the steaming cup with both hands to let the warmth seep into his skin. "Thank you," he replied sincerely, any sass drowned out by gratitude. "You didn't have to."
"You cook for me all the time. It's the least I could do."
He tried to hide his smile behind a sip of soup, but he couldn't help the laugh that escaped when Louis poked playfully at his side, tickling him until he squirmed closer to try to escape. Tangled up in each other, they passed the warm mug back and forth until it was empty.
After a few minutes, Harry finally took off his coat. Louis listened intently while Harry talked on and on about a long day of dealing with self-righteous customers, and then he dutifully answered all of Harry's oddly-specific questions about his own day at work. It never failed to surprise him when Harry asked things like "did you go to the Thai place yourself or send your secretary?" -- especially when Louis hadn't yet told him what he ordered for lunch.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, washing the living room in a dusty pink and orange, Harry rested his head on Louis's shoulder. "Can we watch Friends?"
Louis frowned, brushing his fingers through Harry's curls. "It's getting late. You're tired. You need to get some rest."
"I know, I just . . ." he sighed. It was hard not to be embarrassed by his constant exhaustion, but constant mental bombardment did take its toll.
"Okay," Louis spoke softly, not waiting for Harry to finish. He didn't need an explanation. "Do you remember where we left off, love? I'll put it on."
"I wish I didn't need it. I wish the world would be quiet," Harry whispered. "Just for a while."
"Yeah," Louis agreed, keeping his tone low so that he didn't aggravate Harry's head further. He linked his arm through Harry's, splaying his fingers out over the younger boy's forearm. "Yeah, that would be nice."
Harry wasn't finished. "Sometimes, I wish I hadn't said anything that first day. I wish I had just let you go and just . . . just let the world work things out."
Louis's brow furrowed. He rubbed his thumb over Harry's soft skin like a question, and Harry seemed to read his mind.
"Sometimes, I wish I hadn't told you how I felt," he confessed. "I wish --"
"H," Louis cut him off immediately. He could hear Harry starting to spiral, starting to give in to the voices in his head who told him that he was wrong -- that he had made a mistake, that he just wasn't good enough. "I wouldn't trade that day for the world. Okay?"
Harry hesitated, but he nodded shakily. Without another word, Louis turned on the TV, rubbing his thumb over Harry's bare arm. The apartment was quiet in Louis's ears, but he knew that in Harry's mind, the world was turned up to full volume. The thought taunted him.
Halfway through the episode, Harry fell asleep with his head on Louis's shoulder. Louis didn't move for the rest of the night.
/
The week before Christmas felt like the longest week of Louis's life. It was only Wednesday, and he could barely stay focused. As he stood at the front of the meeting room across from his office, he forced himself to keep up the power behind his voice, presenting the charts and statistics that his team had put together about their sustainability deal.
"I just think that we need more information before we decide," Williams interjected. He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest like he had a thousand and one better places to be.
Louis pressed his lips together to hide his scowl. Ever since he had really processed Harry's bad opinion of the other man, he hadn't been able to look at him the same.
"I appreciate you sharing your thoughts, but it's still important to consider the timeline," Louis responded confidently. "Without finalizing this deal, we won't be able to --"
A knock cut his statement short. His eyes snapped to the closed door, which his secretary was slowly pushing open and poking her head through. He raised an eyebrow, almost daring her to actually say anything to interrupt them.
"There's someone here to see you," she said, looking a bit sheepish.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment," he replied, his tone clipped as he gestured to the room full of people. After so many years of working for him, his secretary knew by now to never interrupt him during a meeting, but miraculously, here she was.
"The visitor said it was urgent."
"Urgent?" Louis repeated skeptically. He raised an eyebrow, impatient; if this was Liam trying to get him out of a meeting again, he was going to lose it. "Did they give you their name?"
She checked her notepad. "Um, no last name. Just Harry. Should I . . ?"
Louis was walking out of the meeting room before she could even finish talking.
He walked briskly down the hall, beelining for the elevators, where he knew his secretary would have instructed Harry to wait. Worry swelled in his chest. Harry had never come to visit him at work before, at least not of his own accord, so he couldn't shake the feeling that something had to be wrong.
Sure enough, Harry was waiting by the elevator, ringing his hands in front of him. His dark eyes lit up when he saw Louis striding toward him, the deep green flooded with relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were blocked by the lump in his throat.
"Hey," Louis rushed out, his voice more of a breath than anything solid. "Hey, hey, what's going on? What's wrong?"
Harry's cheeks were flushed, even more than usual. Their redness was just a few shades too dark to be wind chill and nothing else. Louis immediately stepped close enough to frame Harry's face between his hands, frowning even more when he felt the cold of Harry's skin beneath his warm fingertips.
"You're frozen," he chided gently, rubbing his thumbs over Harry's cheeks. "You're cold as ice, sweetheart, why --"
"We have to go," Harry interrupted him, his eyes wide and panicked. He tugged on the sleeve of Louis's suit jacket, trying to force him toward the door.
Louis blinked, confused and caught off guard by Harry's urgent tone. "Wait, wait. Wait a minute. What's wrong? Talk to me, petal, what's going on?"
"I think Liam's in trouble." His eyes flicked over Louis's shoulder, where Louis's secretary was hovering just a few steps down the hallway. "I-I can't explain it, Louis, but you know I wouldn't interrupt you if it wasn't important. Liam's at work, and I think something's going to happen."
"How do you . . ?"
"I just know, Louis, please. Please, we have to go right now."
"Okay. Okay, we'll go. We're going now, we're going." He looped an arm around Harry's waist, guiding him toward the elevator as he called over his shoulder to his secretary, "Reschedule the meeting for next week."
"What should I tell them, sir?"
"Family emergency."
Louis's clipped tone sent a shiver down Harry's spine. His reaction was quick and decisive, his confidence unwavering. Even with no information, Louis trusted him -- and the realization made Harry's erratic heartbeat settle. He could still feel himself trembling beneath Louis's hand, but he could finally think clearly again.
"Did you walk all the way here?" Louis demanded as they stepped into the elevator. "You should have called me, Harry, or at least taken a cab." He grabbed Harry's hand, interlacing their fingers like he could transfer all of his body heat to Harry through willpower alone. Especially after that first night that they spent together in the alley, Louis couldn't bear the thought of Harry being so deathly cold ever again.
Harry ignored his questions and criticism, instead launching into a quasi-explanation: "I was at work when I heard it -- Liam's name. It was so loud, Lou, and I heard it over and over again, and I just knew that something was going to happen, especially after everything that's happened with your company. I just knew that he was in trouble, and I knew that if I didn't get to you first that he wouldn't believe me."
"Okay, okay. Slow down. You think Liam's in trouble?"
"I know Liam's in trouble. Someone's targeting him -- and you, but I still don't know why, and I don't know who." Harry sounded frustrated with himself. His chest heaved with uneven breaths, barely getting enough air between words. "It's right on the tip of my brain, you know, like, all of these details, but I just can't place them --"
His rambling was cut short when Louis grabbed his chin and kissed him.
The world stopped. Impossibly, Harry's brain stopped. It settled, the press of Louis's lips against his own overtaking everything else for a few glorious seconds. Then the elevator doors dinged as they opened, and Louis pulled away, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him through the lobby.
Harry was still breathless as he stumbled to catch up with Louis, but for a completely different reason. "What was that for?"
"You needed to take a breath. You were going to faint."
"And you thought that would help me breathe?"
"No. I figured it would distract you long enough that your body could get things under control." Louis shot him a pointed look of disapproval as they rushed out of the main doors and onto the sidewalk. "You have no fucking concept of how to take care of yourself. It's like your brain is constantly fighting your body for control over your basic functions."
"Yeah, well, it's a bit hard to focus on anything else when my mind is frozen on an image of Liam's office building on fire."
Louis's hand tightened around Harry's. His office building was only about two blocks from Liam's, and he started walking a bit faster, pulling Harry along.
"On fire?"
"Yes, on fire. We have to warn him."
"I'll get him on the phone right now," Louis promised, already dialling his friend's number. He squeezed Harry's hand as he pressed the phone to his ear, forcing a tight smile. "He's fine, Haz, you'll see."
One glance at Harry had Louis's frazzled nerves even more electrified. He studied the emotional expression on the younger boy's face as the phone rang. Harry looked far more than just worried.
"What?" he demanded. "What else is wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just . . . you believe me," Harry's green eyes glimmered with surprise. "You didn't even question it, you just . . . trusted me."
"Yeah," Louis replied simply, relieved. He squeezed Harry's hand again. "I do trust you."
The call went through right then, and Liam's voice came through the phone. "What's up?"
"Are you at work?" Louis asked. He realized all at once that he had no idea how to have this conversation without sounding crazy; he suddenly felt like he understood Harry a lot better. "Anything, uh, out of the ordinary going on?"
"No." Liam sounded suspicious. "Why do you ask?"
"You should get out of the building. We're heading your way, um . . . you can meet us outside."
"Why?"
"Well, Harry thinks --"
"What?" At the mention of Harry's name, Liam's tone went from confused to irritated in under a second. "Come on, Lou, you can't actually believe --"
Before Louis even had a chance to jump to Harry's defense, Harry grabbed the phone from him. "Liam, please," he said. "I wouldn't say anything if I didn't think it was serious. I wouldn't . . . I swear, Liam, I-I wouldn't do that. Please, Liam, you have to believe me."
The other end of the line went quiet for a few long seconds. Harry's frantic heartbeat pounded in his ears, whispers taunting him with a crystal-clear view of the world that he couldn't get anyone else to see.
Then Liam huffed out an aggravated sigh. "Okay. I'll have the security guards do a walk-through and check the building. Happy?"
Harry exhaled, relieved. Louis took the phone from him, telling Liam, "We're headed your way, so we'll drop by for a few minutes. Want to meet us out on the sidewalk?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll be down in five."
The call dropped before Louis said goodbye. He rubbed his thumb over Harry's as he pocketed his phone. "See? He's fine. Everything's fine."
Harry nodded silently. The only thing he could think was: "for now."
As they approached Liam's building, Louis dropped his hand. Harry wasn't surprised: Louis was barely ready for their relationship himself, so it made sense that he wasn't ready to announce it to his friends yet.
A moment later, he couldn't care less about whether or not Louis wanted to hold his hand.
People were evacuating the office building in masses, spilling out onto the sidewalk like boiling water bubbling over the sides of a pan. A police siren wailed in the distance, growing louder and louder every second. Harry kept looking for signs of fire, like he'd seen in his head. It was all the same as the image he'd seen, except the flames were nowhere to be found.
"Louis!"
Liam's face was pale, but he strode toward them with the same confidence as always, his jaw set and his shoulders squared.
"What's going on? What happened?" Louis demanded. The small space between him and Harry suddenly seemed like far, far too much. His fingers twitched with the need to reach out and take Harry's hand again.
"They found a pipe bomb," Liam said. His troubled eyes flicked to Harry for just a split second before refocusing on Louis.
Louis's eyes widened, and he instinctively grabbed Harry's arm, not caring if Liam saw. "What the fuck? Where?" he exclaimed. "How?"
"In one of the bathrooms in the lobby. A lot of people just come in and out of here, so they don't know who planted it. I think they're going back through security footage now."
"Jesus Christ," Louis cursed, running his free hand through his hair.
"They found it in time, deactivated it before it could go off. They're evacuating the building so that they can do a full sweep and make sure that there aren't any others." Liam pursed his lips, already analyzing the situation -- all business, all the time. "Do you think it's connected? Like, someone gets shot at an event that we're both attending, then you 'coincidentally' get dragged into a fucking brawl, and now this? It has to be connected, don't you think?"
Louis hesitated. "I'm not sure," he replied honestly, but the pieces were already struggling to slot together in his mind, almost exact matches but not quite. "Have you talked to the police?"
"Not yet. I came straight over here when I saw you."
"Go talk to them -- and make sure that they know how closely we work together. Drop my name and mention that you think this could be related. I'm sure they've seen the news if they haven't actually looked at the cases themselves." He shook his head in disbelief. "What a shitshow."
"Tell me about it." He clapped Louis on the shoulder. "Seems like we're both going to have a bit of press coverage to deal with."
"We're in it together," Louis promised him. "Just like always. We'll figure it out."
Liam gave him a tired smile. "I'll call you as soon as I know more."
"Good. Call if you need anything."
"Thanks, Lou." His eyes flicked to Harry again, but he didn't say a word.
Louis finally turned his attention back to Harry, offering him a reassuring smile. He turned away from the chaos and Harry followed his lead, heading away from the bustling sidewalk outside of Liam's office building. He felt relieved: they had found the bomb. He wasn't too late this time.
"You were right," Louis said quietly, his tone full of respect. "How did you know?"
Harry just shrugged. His eyes had gone a bit distant, fading into the hazy green that Louis was learning to associate with his debilitating headaches. "I was at work, and I just . . . realized," he explained. "I didn't know the details, obviously. I told you -- and Liam -- everything I knew. I just knew I had to get to you and we had to get to Liam. Together."
The corners of Louis's mouth tugged up into a small smile. More than anything, he felt proud: proud that Harry always, always pushed through his own pain and discomfort to help someone else.
It made him sad to think about how many years Harry had spent alone, with no one to take care of him while he was busy taking care of everyone else. Louis could only hope that Harry knew how much other people cared about him -- even if Liam hadn't quite accepted him, Niall surely had. Louis's friends would be there for him, and of course, Louis would always be there.
Always.
"Harry," Liam called out before they could get too far. Harry glanced back over his shoulder, and their eyes locked together. "Thank you."
Harry just gave him a shy smile and a nod, his cheeks heating under the other boy's serious gaze.
As soon as they had rounded the corner of the next building, escaping Liam's eyeline, he picked up Louis's hand again.