The party is already in full speed when Louis and Niall arrive. It's just ten o'clock, but they've been at Niall's place, having dinner. Usually on New Year's Eve Louis' family go over to Niall's, but the table felt horribly empty this year and Louis could stand it only for so long.
The party they're at is only a few blocks away and they walked over there, sipping from a flask with gin in an attempt to catch up on the drunken buzz. They didn't want to drink at their parents despite being of age, but they're ready to get plastered as soon as they get inside.
The hostess of the party is this girl Kelly. She's on the cheering squad and Louis knows her well enough. Her house is gigantic, which is probably for the best, because according to the event on Facebook almost the entire senior class is attending tonight. Louis knows at the back of his head that Harry probably will be here tonight, but he doesn't want to think about that. He's done pretty well not thinking about him for the entire break. More or less.
Louis and Harry almost never attend the same parties, because they never tend to hang out in the same crowds. If the football team ever gathers it's mostly for a few beers for an hour before everyone leaves to do their own thing. It's probably Louis and Harry's fault that the team isn't very close knit. Louis hasn't been feeling parties much lately either, only went to a few last term, and he doesn't even know if Harry has been around the people he usually hangs with. Tonight, though, Louis is ready to get pissed and not think about anything at all.
He and Niall greet their mates as they get into the house that's rather full. The kitchen is crammed, and they right away press through toward the kitchen table where people have dared to leave their alcohol. Niall snatches a bottle of vodka, finding plastic shot glasses somewhere and pours them one each.
"Happy New Year, Lou," he grins, raising his glass. Louis smirks, tipping the drink back. It's some Russian shit and it burns, the two of them making faces at each other.
"Another?"
"Another," Louis agrees.
They finally make their way into the living room after two more shots, and Louis spots Stan and Oli on the couch. They're smoking and Louis makes room for himself between them, joining their loud chatter. The music is blasting loudly through the room, furniture having been ruthlessly pushed to the walls to make room for dancing, and Louis can spot several pairs getting slightly indecent. He's pretty sure Niall is part of one of the couples. He's already pulling, and Louis can hardly deny that his best mate's got game.
"Liam!" Louis yells when he sees the lad coming into the room. He's looking good in a white, tight t-shirt that does well to his broad shoulders and chest, and his light jeans make his waist look incredible. It's strange, because Louis hasn't ever found him very attractive. Maybe he's a little drunk, though.
Liam comes over, bumping Louis' outstretched fist before giving him a hug. Louis whines until he does a shot with him, and in the Louis winds up sitting on his lap for whatever reason. It's nothing but friendly, but it's nice somehow. Louis loves being affectionate, especially when drunk. It was such a long time ago he got this inebriated, and the feeling is heady and pleasant. He's almost forgotten how great a good buzz can be. He's been too busy with football to let loose lately, and he tells Liam as much.
"I usually throw parties, mate," he answers. "Come to mine. Ed and Zayn usually come, too." Louis doesn't know who Zayn is, but Liam knows the good kind of people, he's sure.
"Wanna smoke?" Louis asks.
"Sure." He wraps his arm around Louis' waist, keeping him on his lap as he raises his bum to get his pack of cigarettes out of his front pocket. He keeps his arm there, lighting his cig and then leans in to let Louis light his off of it.
It's past eleven when Sophia, a pretty brunette, stumbles into the room, squealing when she sees Liam and sits down on his other side. Liam must look like a proper pimp like this, sitting in a big armchair, Louis on his left leg and his girlfriend on the armrest, legs draped over his right. Louis is way to hazy to be bothered when they make out for a bit. Sophia's clutching Liam's face, leaning into his side. Louis doesn't care; she doesn't bump him out of the way and she lets him sit on Liam's lap, head resting back against his shoulder. Stan may have offered a drag of his spliff and Louis might not have said no.
Liam's hand is warm on his waist and Louis' head starts feeling a little hot. Sophia is still sitting down on Liam's other side, smiling at him. Louis gives her a lazy wink, and she giggles.
"He's a bit out of it?" he hears her say to Liam, and he feels him shrug beneath him.
"It's fine," he says, and then Sophia gives Louis a kiss on his cheek. He turns to face her and she smiles, eyes crinkling a little. Louis kind of thinks she smells a bit like summer. Maybe he should get a girlfriend, he thinks. Someone who smiles like blue skies and pretty springs. And has soft hands.
"Hi," he says to her after a while, knowing he's probably greeted her before. Liam chuckles. "Your girlfriend is nice, Liams."
"Thank you, Lou."
Louis averts his eyes, looking around the coffee table in front of them. Some of the people surrounding it have been exchanged for new faces, but the ambience feels the same. People are smoking, drinking, just hanging back. Louis realizes he's probably among the lazy drunks. The energetic ones usually crowd the dance floor, and the rest mingle about, being a bit of everywhere. He wonders where Niall is.
"Where's Niall?" he asks out loud to no one in particular.
"Mate," someone says, who's sitting on the other side of the coffee table, smiling and waving. "I'm here."
"Niall!" he exclaims. "Bathroom, Niall!" He needs the bathroom.
"In the hallway, lad. Should I walk you?"
"Mm-hmm," he nods, uncoordinatedly getting up from Liam's lap. He thinks he feels a hand or two helping him keep steady. He feels Niall grab his arm, leading him to the bathroom through the half empty hallway. Most people are probably outside or upstairs, he figures.
Niall helps him into the bathroom, telling him he'll go back to the living room. Louis locks the door and then spends fifteen minutes sitting on top of the toilet seat, staring at his legs as he rhythmically bumps his heel into the fluffy mat. It'd be a shame to get sick it, since it's very pretty and fluffy, so he stands and goes to the sink, washing his face with cold water. Hands gripping either side of the sink, he finds himself staring at his own reflection.
He's been feeling very confused lately. Everything is very confusing. A lot confusing. Confusion. Exhaustion. Many things and strange feelings.
Somebody bangs on the door a few times he thinks, before they give up. Louis isn't sure what time it is, or how long ago somebody knocked on the door last, but he figures he should probably go out to the party again. He does, but heads upstairs after he peeks into the living room. Most people seem to have gone outside, but it's cold out and he isn't really feeling it. He finds a second bathroom in a corridor on the second floor, and climbs into the bathtub, leaning back. He has Liam's pack of cigarettes in his pocket he realizes a few minutes later, and he lights one, letting the pink shower curtain hide him.
He knows he probably shouldn't be alone on New Year's, especially not when he's actually at a party, so he brings his phone up. Hide and seek Nialll, he texts, grinning a little to himself. He'll never find him here.
Louis must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows someone is opening the bathroom door, locking it behind them. It's a guy, Louis finds when he peeks out behind the shower curtain.
"What are you doing?" he asks, voice tired, but a little less drunk. He feels more awake now than he has the entire party.
The lad almost screams, crowding into the opposite wall. Louis laughs, giggling. The other guy looks scared, but calms when he finally spots Louis in the tub.
"What you doing, mate?" he asks. "Scared the fuck out of meh."
"Sorry," Louis smiles. The lad's pretty skinny, but has nice eyes, he decides. He looks nice. "Hey, you're the artsy guy!"
"What?"
"Curly's friend."
"I'm Zayn."
"Exactly!" The guy squints back at him. He looks a little drunk, too. "Were you gonna piss?" Louis wonders.
"Yeah."
"I'll close my ears."
Zayn chuckles, shaking his head, but nonetheless zips down his jeans. Louis closes his eyes, cheek mushing against the cold edge of the tub. When the guy is done, he flushes and washes his hands.
"Hey, do you know where Niall Horan is?"
"My Niall? You know my chipmunk?"
"... I guess."
"Somewhere. Down."
"Helpful," Zayn nods. Louis is not certain if he's sarcastic or not. "Right. It's midnight soon, mate, just letting you know."
"Yeah... Send someone to carry me downstairs? Preferably Lima."
"Who?"
"Liiima. Liams."
"Payne?"
"Mm-hm."
The door closes a few seconds after that. Louis supposes he's alone again. He could probably get up himself, but he's tired and somebody should help him. Louis is on the way to bring the school's footie team to the championship game, it would be not only be polite, but an honor to help the team captain.
The door opens a couple of minutes into Louis' ponderings and he's decided he's going to ask Liam to carry him bridal style down the stairs to make his return extra extravagant. He bets everyone has missed him.
"You're not Lima," he says, frowning once he looks up. That's definitely not him.
"No."
"What are you doing here?" he wonders, swallowing.
"Zayn told me you were here."
"Why?"
"'Cause he's my friend."
"Did you want to see me?" Louis asks, eyeing the other lad as he puts a leg over the edge, climbing into the tub. He doesn't answer, only settles back, knees pulled up on either side of Louis' legs.
Louis inhales quietly, suddenly feeling rather uncertain. Harry's sitting in the tub with him and they're simply looking at each other. It feels quite tentative. Their last encounter seems like ages ago, but he's not going to lie and say he hasn't been thinking about it, even if he's tried not to. The picture's been ingrained in the back of his head for the last week, and he doesn't know what do with it.
"So," Harry finally says, voice low. He looks as unsure as Louis' feeling.
"So," he says back. "How was... how's your break?"
"Okay." He nods once, pursing his lips.
"Cool."
"Yours?"
Christmas did actually go by rather calmly. He and Mum celebrated by themselves, grandma and grandpa coming over on the 25th. It was a calm, cozy and pleasant, if slightly strange, affair. Lottie's still quite mad at him for skipping Christmas at Mark's, but she told him she'd talked to Fizzy (although with a hard look and a meaningfully arched brow), who'd apparently said she'd think about coming home sometime. He also had a long conversation with Jay about their fight, including the job thing. She'd been upset, but let him keep it. They promised from now on there'd be no more lies.
"Okay, I guess," he answers, eyes locking on Harry's fingers scratching his bent knee.
"Are you drunk?" Harry asks, voice low, eyes not looking up.
"A little. You?"
He shrugs. Louis watches him and he thinks he looks quite... not fine. He suddenly wonders if it's just the party not hitting him up right, or if it's something else. Like, something with his parents. He has no right to ask, so he doesn't, even if the image of Harry standing outside his door, crying, is pounding his mind.
"Time's it?" he murmurs.
"Eleven fifty-six."
"Happy New Year," he says lamely, rolling his eyes.
Harry scoffs, throwing his head back. He accidentally clashes into the wall behind him and Louis bursts out into a cackle, slapping his hand over his mouth. Harry winces, whining as he rubs the back of his head. Louis smiles, bumping his inner thigh with the toe of his shoe.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, not unkindly. "Really?"
Harry looks up at him, shaking his head a just fraction where he's finally leaned it back against the wall. "I have no fucking idea."
And somehow that makes absolute sense.
"Who're you going to kiss at midnight then?"
"Do you want me to kiss you?" Harry asks, looking right at him.
Louis shrugs. He doesn't want him to kiss him, he just... doesn't want to not be kissed.
"Time's it?" he asks.
"Eleven fifty-nine."
They're quiet for a moment, and then Harry finally sighs. It's a low, perhaps even haunting, sound of longsuffering exhaustion. Louis can see him through the gap of his legs, staring at the ceiling.
"I don't want to be alone."
And. Yeah. Louis knows what that feels like.
"Yeah," he whispers back.
It feels completely right when he scrambles, after some awkward shifting crawling in between the space of Harry's legs, elbows landing on either of Harry's warm shoulders. He gazes down at him, Harry's eyes blinking back. Louis pushes his soft hair back, hands cradling his face. Harry blinks back and there's an understanding between them.
"Time is it?"
He glances at the small clock on the table in the corner of the bathroom. Before he can answer there's a loud cheer from outside, the rest of the guests of the party yelling their New Year wishes.
"Twelve," Harry whispers.
"Happy New Year, Harold," Louis says back, and leans down and kisses him.
It only last for a couple of seconds, but it's warm and sweet. It's not heading anywhere, but Louis closes his eyes anyway, feeling Harry's soft lips kiss him back. It doesn't mean anything, but it comforts them both in their own ways.
They part with a little breath each, and Louis leans back, sitting on Harry's thighs where he's straddling him. He reaches out, strokes a bit of saliva off Harry's lower lip with his thumb before he gets up and out of the tub, unsteady on his feet as he leaves the bathroom.
**
Louis doesn't hear from Harry for the rest of the break after New Years Eve. He left the party a couple of hours later, Niall finding him somewhere in the living room. He didn't see Harry for the rest of the party either, figuring the other boy stayed upstairs or went back to wherever he was before he appeared in the bathroom.
Louis spends the last week off mostly resting up, playing FIFA at Niall's and seeing Liam a couple of times. He goes on a few jogs, but tries not to think too much about his usual work out schedule. He also actually starts teaching Lottie how to drive. The first two lessons they do nothing but sit in an abandoned parking lot, trying to get Lottie to actually get the car moving. It happens, if quite jerkily, but results in an engine breakdown when she loses the clutch. It's kind of hilarious and they end up laughing more than anything, even if Lottie finds it frustrating.
Niall comes along a few times and he's actually quite helpful as Lottie carefully swerves around the parking lot.
"I think we should try driving down the small road by the woods," he suggests. "You're ready, Lots."
"Really?" she says. "Louis hasn't let me do anything else than this for days."
Well, Louis is pretty sure that he is not even allowed to be teaching somebody how to drive. Getting caught, or you know, dying, isn't exactly ideal.
"Yeah, come on. Nobody ever drives there. It'll be fine. Louis?"
"Fine," he sighs. "But I'm driving over there. Switch."
Lottie rolls her eyes, but nevertheless complies.
It ends up being fine. Louis is still worried the owner of the small road will pop up, which wouldn't be pleasant, it being private property and all. However, they're alone, and Lottie drives up and down the dirt road, practicing stopping and starting over and over again.
"Lots," Louis says after several painfully abrupt stops. "If you let up on the brake just a little bit after you've pressed down, the stop isn't going to be nearly as close to breaking my neck."
"Sorry," she laughs. She starts the car again, drives onwards a few yards and then slows. "Like this?"
"Better," Louis nods, only rubbing his chest from where the seatbelt has been cutting into it a little bit. "Maybe we should actually start checking up the rules for practice driving."
"Nobody's gonna see us, Lou. Chill out a bit, it's fine."
Louis sends Niall a glare over his shoulder, in the process noticing the phone in his hands. "Is that my phone?"
"No –"
"Give it!" Shit.
"It's not your phone, it's –"
Louis rips it out of his hands, heart pumping quickly. He turns it over in his hand, realizing that no, it is not in fact his phone. Relief instantly fills him, and he lets out the big breath he held.
"What's wrong with you?" Niall asks, matter-of-factly.
"Nothing. Oof!" He rubs his chest, eyes glancing at Lottie who's looking focused on the road in front of her. He gives Niall a sheepish look. "Sorry," he mumbles.
"What did you think I was doing? Looking through your texts? Since when do you even write anything interesting anyway? The last thing I'd want to read is your football schedules that you send everyone on the team. Yes, I know about those. The lads on the team hate them, did you know that?" Niall rolls his eyes. "And since when do we have secrets – Ooof! Lottie!"
"Sorry!"
Louis swallows, guiltily turning the phone over in his hand. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me," he says abashedly. "Wait. What were you doing then? This is Lottie's phone."
"What?!"
"Eyes on the road."
Niall smirks. "Reading texts."
"Niall!"
"Road. Eyes. Road."
"Louis! He's reading my texts!"
"Who's Martin, Lots?" Niall laughs.
"No one! You're such a shit, Niall –"
"Stop the car."
" – and I'm going to kill you!"
"Stop the car!"
"He seems nice, though. But, I do wonder –"
"I swear to god, if you don't stop the car we're going to die." Louis grips the seat in painful grasps.
"Nothing happened."
"Are you sure? I wasn't even going to say anything if Louis hadn't found me out, but now that you're being all defensive I'm curious."
"Niall, you're an arse!"
"Stop the car!" Louis yells, and then finally, finally, Lottie stomps on the break.
"Woah!"
"Uugh!"
Louis leans over, turning the car off completely. "If you two fight in the car one more time I'm not going to drive with you, Lottie, ever again. I'm not willing to risk my life."
"I was driving in thirty, Louis, chill."
"That's ten too fast."
Lottie ignores him, turning back to Niall. "Where did you even get my phone?"
"I've got contacts."
Lottie turns to scowl at Louis.
"Hey! I didn't do anything."
"Yeah, you saw how he freaked when he thought it was his." Niall sends Louis look that feels genuinely annoyed and perhaps a tad cold, and Louis shrinks a little.
"Don't do that again."
"Can't promise anything, sis," Niall shrugs. "So, are you dating?"
Louis' sister turns beat red and Louis' eyes narrow. "You've got a boyfriend?"
"No!" she exclaims. "Not yet," she adds.
"You're fifteen!"
"And you're eighteen? Just because you were a nerd in Junior High doesn't mean I can't date."
Louis crosses his arms. They've all already undone their seatbelts and they're sitting in a triangle, looking sufficiently pissed at each other. Louis' mad at Lottie, Niall's mad at Louis, and Lottie is mad at Niall.
"When did this start?" Louis asks sternly.
"It hasn't been going on long, Louis. Just since New Year's."
"Did you kiss him at midnight?" Niall asks.
Silence.
Louis gasps. "You kissed him?!"
Lottie glares. "So what?! Everyone kisses people at midnight! Niall kissed Melissa!"
"How'd you know?" Louis and Niall say synchronously, faces littered with confusion.
"Please, everybody knows. And Louis, just because you were baked as fuck and has sworn to celibacy doesn't mean the rest of us are the same way."
"Wha – I wasn't – I didn't get stoned," he stutters.
Lottie rolls her eyes. "Louis, I saw pictures on Facebook of you in someone's lap, staring like a freak at your own hand. You were wrecked."
"Didn't you spend midnight in a bathtub?" Niall chuckles. Unhelpful bastard.
"Why do you all act as if I've never done stuff with anyone?" This so not what they should be talking about, especially not with Lottie. Or with Niall. They shouldn't be talking about this at all. For the record, he wants to say, he's done things that neither of them could ever dream of.
"You've never had a girlfriend," Lottie says.
"You don't have to have a girlfriend to do stuff."
"Please, you're hardly the sleep around type, Lou." Niall shrugs. "You get attached."
"This is absurd." He's done perfectly fine with Harry, thank you very much.
"So, you did kiss someone at midnight then?" Lottie arches a brow. The way her expression looks is way too similar to how Louis would look, and he feels annoyance bubble in him. Also, how did he manage to get here?
"I didn't... I didn't say that." Louis presses his lips together, trying to look composed.
They can't find out, like, they can't. He can't even fathom what would happen if they did. Louis is having sex with Harry. With a boy. He's not ashamed about the last bit, quite, but he is certain he's not ready to tell anyone about it. Christ, he doesn't even know what he'd say. Are you gay they'd all ask, and Louis wouldn't even know what the hell to answer. He doesn't know! Okay! He doesn't even know himself. He feels his expression crumble slightly and he bites his cheek, settling determination on his face. He will not be found out.
Lottie laughs, shaking her head. "Bet you're wearing a chastity belt, Louis. Saving yourself for marriage?"
"Nothing wrong with that," Louis mutters, turning back in his seat. Niall doesn't say anything, but Louis can feel his eyes on his neck. He can feel it. Niall knows something's up, even if he doesn't know what. He won't say anything, Louis' pretty sure of that, but he feels awfully guilty, ashamed that he's keeping something from his best fucking friend.
"Let's just get home now, okay? I promised Dad to help him cook dinner," Niall says, leaning back in his seat.
"Switch," Louis mutters.
**
There's only one day left of break. Louis hasn't hung out with Niall since the incident with Lottie, who for the record is constantly texting Martin. Her face lights up every time her phone chirps, and Louis finds himself glancing at his own phone that stays perfectly silent.
He's not going to lie, Niall and Lottie's constant reminders that he doesn't do anything other than play football makes him feel slightly depressed. He knows they don't know the complete truth, like his job and Harry, but it still makes him feel a bit miserable. He doesn't have much to do the last days of break, since he doesn't have any shifts at the shop and Niall seems distant, though Louis can't blame him.
It hits him that lately the highlights of his life this last year have involved Harry. Nothing has made him feel as much as Harry, no matter what kind of feelings. His situation at home brings him complete misery, but lately Louis has no idea what kind of feelings Harry will extort from him. It's strangely exhilarating and he doesn't know if he likes it or not.
His eyes flicker to his phone again. He could text him... But no. No, he can't.
They wouldn't have anywhere to be anyway. Louis' mum is home for the day, reading in the kitchen, and Lottie is in the living room with Louis, texting. He wouldn't be able to sneak him in, much less sleep with him unnoticed. They can be a bit loud... Plus he's not even that horny, despite it being weeks since he slept with Harry last.
He sighs, rolls over on the couch and closes his eyes. He could use some sleep, he supposes. Staying up and watching porn all night isn't good for his sleeping schedule. It wasn't even for getting off purposes, he was just... curious to what he could do to Harry to have him an undone mess beneath him. And maybe, he wants to do something that'll impress him. Maybe.
He wonders what the kiss thing means. That time after the football pitch was unexpected and if he's honest, really good. He can still remember Harry's soft hands on his neck and cheek, holding him still while he kissed into his mouth. Then there's the kiss on New Year's Eve. It was short, but soft too, and the agreement between them evident.
It was a moment of strange, but mutual affinity. It wasn't sympathy, just... Louis isn't sure what it was. But it mattered somehow.
I don't want to be alone.
Yeah.
Louis ends up going to bed early, stomach feeling slightly anxious. He doesn't know why, but going to bed feels like a solution to escape his silly thoughts and the unease in his chest. It's only seven pm, but he wishes his mum goodnight and says he'll see her when she gets home tomorrow afternoon. Lottie teases him, calling him "grandpa", but he only flips her off, not completely annoyed.
He brushes his teeth, crawling in beneath his covers with a pair of tartan pajama bottoms and a black long sleeved shirt. He feels a bit cold, and he faintly wonders if he's starting to get a fever. He puts music in his ears, pulling the covers up past his head.
Louis wakes up just past one in the morning. Panic! At The Disco is no longer playing from his headphones, but it's only because it's replaced by the shrill sound of his ringtone in his headphones. He groans, pulling his duvet off him. The air that hits him is slightly cool, and he realizes he's been sleeping in his cocoon for several hours.
"What?" he groans into the phone, cheek mushed against his pillow, too tired to even contemplate who could be calling him this late.
"Can I come over? Please."
It's Harry. His voice is almost urgent, a little hoarse, and the first image that pops into Louis' head is the picture of Harry, standing outside Louis' door. He can't do anything but murmur, "Fine," and he tries not to comprehend it, even though his stomach swirls a bit, perhaps.
He sits up, running a hand through his ruffled hair. It's standing in every direction it seems, but he's too tired to bother doing anything about it. He doesn't even know what Harry wants.
The text comes only ten minutes later. He trips quietly down the stairs, checking that Lottie's door is safely closed. He glances out the window, unable to spot Harry's car. Maybe he walked.
He opens the front door, squinting at Harry. His curls are somewhat disheveled as well, his long legs in track bottoms and a green hoodie, jacket on top. He looks tired, but he isn't crying, so Louis takes that as a good sign.
"Hi," he says.
"Hey," Harry answers, hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweater. It almost feels exactly like last time. It feels like such a long time ago now.
"Why are you up at one am? It's school tomorrow," Louis says, voice grave from sleep.
"Couldn't sleep."
Louis steps aside, letting him inside and closes the door behind him. The boy steps out of his shoes, picking them up. His eyes slide over Louis slightly, and yeah, Louis supposes his attire isn't exactly flattering; the pajamas are making his limps look less firm, as if he's still a gangly teenager. He's never been very gangly, though, more compact and small than anything else. Harry's eyes linger on his waist. Louis tries not to think much of it.
Louis turns around, slowly leading the way upstairs. He hears Harry following him and they quietly trudge into Louis' room. As soon as they're inside, Louis closes the door and crawls in under the duvet. He hears Harry shrug out of his jacket, placing is shoes on the floor. It takes a few moments, and then he feels the bed dip next him.
He turns over, cheek mushed against the pillow, face only a couple of inches from Harry's. Louis' toes are freezing.
"You look like a baby hedgehog," Harry murmurs, sleepiness prominent in his voice, too.
Louis digs his chilly toes in between Harry's calves, making him wince. He puts a hand over Harry's eyes. "Sleep."
When he removes his hand, Harry keeps his eyes closed.
Louis watches him for a moment. I don't want to be alone.
"Yeah," he murmurs, voice so soft he's sure Harry didn't hear.
**
When Louis walks into homeroom the morning after, Harry catches his eyes instantly.
They woke up in the morning just past seven by Louis' alarm. Harry looked rumpled by sleep, voice hoarse and somehow soft despite the rasp. Louis had to restrain himself from running a hand through his hair.
"Will you give me a ride to school?" Harry asked, blinking innocently.
"Not a chance," Louis answered, pushing him away from him on the bed. Harry grabbed the duvet, rolling himself into a burrito. "I have to drive Lottie, so you need to leave before she wakes up."
"I don't want to," Harry huffed. "I have to walk home and get my car."
"You need a change of clothes, too."
"Can I borrow yours?"
"They wouldn't even fit," Louis scoffed. "You'd stretch them."
"I wouldn't," Harry huffed indignantly, unwrapping himself from the duvet. He got up, giving Louis an eyeful of his bare legs and chest. He was only in his boxers, and Louis narrowed his eyes as his gaze followed Harry to the drawers. The boy started rifting through his clothes, making a mess, and Louis groaned loudly.
"Stop ruining my drawers!"
"Stop whining. Hey, this one will fit." He held up Louis' blue button down, one Louis only uses when he has too look relatively proper. It was slightly too big for him, so he supposed Harry could take it.
"Fine, but wash it after."
"Yeah, yeah, Mum." Harry treaded his arms into the sleeves, and Louis' eyes caught the way the end of the sleeves were twisted incorrectly. His fingers twitched, urging to fix it. "I need pants."
"You're not allowed to borrow my trousers."
"I think these'll fit."
"Those are mine!" Louis ripped the black jeggings from his hands, holding them as he pushed his own pajama bottoms down. "Stop looking."
"You're getting all naked in front of me. It's unfair to tell me I can't look."
"My body, my rules."
Harry shrugged, hands digging around in Louis' drawer still. "Fine. I'll just close my eyes and picture you naked instead."
"You need therapy."
"You need to tame your hair."
Damn.
Louis eyed himself in the mirror. He really did need to fix it. He went to fetch a brush from the bathroom and sent a dark look at Harry on the way over. It took less than a minute though, and then Harry was walking into the bathroom, crowding Louis in by the sink. He noticed he was wearing a pair of Louis' black jeans; too short, unfairly tight.
But he was smirking, rifting through the cupboard while Louis' huffed in annoyance, Harry's chest draped over his back. "Is this toothbrush yours?"
"Yes, why – No!"
Harry fit a strong arm around his waist, keeping him tightly back against Harry's hip. He batted Louis' hands away, placing the toothbrush down on the edge of the sink to put on some toothpaste.
"Gross," Louis whined, when Harry brought it to his mouth.
"Can't do anything about it now," Harry grinned, voice muffled.
"Like, hell I can," Louis growled, and started twisting in Harry's grip, writhing and digging his nails into Harry's arm.
Harry tried not to budge, but Louis is a "squirmy little thing" as he put it. Eventually they ended up crawling on the floor, both of Harry's big hands locking Louis down.
"Why," was what Harry said, when they were breathing heavily, lying on the floor.
"I don't know," Louis said. He actually had no idea why they were wrestling over a toothbrush, but "I want my toothbrush."
"You can have it when I'm done." There was toothpaste dripping down his chin.
Louis leaned in, biting the end of the toothbrush between his teeth and sufficiently removing it from Harry's mouth.
Harry was looking incredulously at him, and Louis internally wondered why he was so acting like a fucking weirdo. What is he doing, honestly? He spat the brush from his mouth, and heard it land somewhere to his left.
"What was that?" Harry asked.
"I honestly don't know."
Harry met his eyes, and for a moment they almost looked a bit... fond. "Do you want some toothpaste with that?"
"What?"
Harry kissed him. Toothpaste. It was disgusting.
Louis brings himself back to reality, Niall tugging on his arm toward their seats farther back in the classroom. He can't help but keep his eyes on Harry as they walk down the row, though. He's in Louis' clothes, hair soft and tucked behind his ear. He's also meeting Louis' gaze brightly, only blinking back innocently.
Normally, Louis would assume something was up, that Harry was planning something, but now... he's not sure. Something happened here, he thinks.
**
Something did happen, he supposes. After Harry's surprise sleepover he seems to come around more often, especially late in the evenings. At first, Louis is annoyed, more often than not waking up with Harry beside him in the morning hogging the duvet when they've had a quick, late shag. Eventually it becomes more of a habit. When he stays, Harry sneaks out in the morning, meeting Louis' eyes in homeroom later. Louis has even started bringing breakfast up to him in the morning. It's a foul, foul habit, but he figures the kid's got to eat.
And kissing. That's a thing.
After beating the shit out of Harry as quietly as possible for kissing toothpaste into his mouth, it becomes a thing. They kiss, and it's not bad at all. It somehow makes the sex better, less of a physical thing and more...intimate, perhaps some would say.
It doesn't matter, really. It's just something they do.
Louis sets up some rules though. For example, number 13: Harry has to keep his bites below the collarbones. Which is something Harry often grumbles and complains about, but Louis will not endure another turtleneck day.
Football practice starts up again. The hours aren't as draining right now, since the season doesn't start until a little less than two months. It's going quite good, and Louis is sufficiently pleased. He thinks the boys can tell, because everyone seems to have a lot more fun at practice, and the team feels almost close knit for once.
Even the coach is unusually happy and seems to actually agree with Louis' decisions more and more. Harry doesn't seem to mind either, actually on board, too.
"Good session, Louis!" Coach Abrahams says on a Tuesday, the end of January only days away. He claps him on the back and Louis hides away a grin, bubble of joy expanding in his chest. "And good on ye and Harreh. Haven't seen ye fight in ages! Proper mates, yeah?" He winks, knowing himself that's quite farfetched. "Good, good," he hums, walking away to end today's practice, all the while Louis' stomach sinks.
He's right. They haven't had a public fight in ages. Not since before the break anyway. Now that he thinks about it, they haven't properly fought in weeks. Nothing other than playful wrestles in Louis' bed or a bit of banter has been going on between them, and he suddenly realizes this with a start.
What exactly is happening here?
His thoughts head a terrifying direction, and he wants beat at them, destroy them. He and Harry are not friends.
His eyes darken as he sees Harry a few yards away, he and Lee playing around with a ball. No, he thinks, fetching a ball himself. They're definitely not friends. He drops the ball, letting it bounce once before kicking it in Harry's direction. It knocks him in the shoulder blade, making him clutch his back.
"What the fuck?" he calls.
Louis flips him off, stalking away.
He and Harry aren't friends. He should have known, though. This thing with him is going to end badly. If even Coach has noticed, then everyone must know. His pulse is ticking, and he feels itchy all over. No one can know. Nobody.
Louis is on his way to his car in the parking lot, when he hears the crunching footsteps against the pavement behind him.
"Why did you shoot at me?" Harry asks, clearly annoyed.
"Felt like it," Louis mutters. Shit, people are going to know. They're gonna fucking know.
"Idiot." Harry glares as he catches up to him, walking a few paces to his left.
"Fuck you," Louis replies grimly.
"What's wrong with you?" Harry asks, but he doesn't look surprised.
"Fuck you, that's all."
Harry glares. "Ditto," he says.
Louis stops in his tracks, and the anger seems to suddenly run off him as he blinks, turning to look at the other boy. "Who the fuck says 'ditto'?" he asks, almost baffled. What the fuck even is this boy?
Harry scoffs at him and turns onto the path leading down the street toward town. He's got his bag slung over his shoulder, strap across his chest, and he's stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. The image is strikingly familiar.
"Wait," Louis says, confused. "Are you walking?" He shakes his head in bewilderment. He didn't sleep at Louis' last night.
"Yes," Harry says over his shoulder, continuing to walk.
"What the fuck. Why?"
"I like walking!" His tone is dismissive, defensive, but Louis knows it isn't the truth. He squints after him. He doesn't know quite what it is, but Harry's very... secretive sometimes. Not that he expects his mortal enemy to share his deepest, darkest secrets, or whatever, with him, but it's kind of annoying knowing that there is something. Sometimes, he wonders if he already knows what that something is. He sighs.
"Do you need a ride?" he finds himself asking, and after a wary look in response and having to promise not to talk too much, he's got Harry in the passenger seat of his car and they're on the way home.
It's getting a bit dark, the sun still not staying up for longer than after practice ends. The street lamps along the road are, together with the lights from the houses, the only things lighting up the town. They don't say anything, partly because Louis gets the feeling Harry really isn't in the mood, and partly because he doesn't know what to say. He reaches Harry's street and he frowns, seeing Harry's car in the driveway and two other sleek ones parked at the curb and in front of the garage.
"So your parents are home," he comments.
Harry snaps his head to look at him for a second, and then turns to scowl slightly at the window of his house that's facing the street. A lamp is lit and Louis thinks someone is moving in there. He doesn't quite understand why Harry would insist on walking when he's got parents to pick him up, or why the hell he didn't even drive his own fancy fucking car this morning when he's got one.
Louis watches him, eyebrow raised questioningly. Harry looks back at him indifferently for a short moment, green eyes seeming just a bit contemplative. Then he's jumping out of the car without a word and Louis watches him wordlessly walk around the vehicle and rip Louis' door open.
"Ditto," he says, once he's got Louis outside with his back against the car in front of him.
"Ditto?"
"I say ditto."
Louis squints. "Don't say ditto."
"Ditto."
"Stop."
"It sounds like dildo."
"No."
"Ditto."
"Harry –"
"Ditto."
"Don't fucking say ditto."
"Ditto."
"You just said – Oh my god, this conversation doesn't make any sense!" Louis exclaims exasperatedly. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. A movement in the window of Harry's house catches his eye in the motion, though. He recognizes Harry's mother and the woman is smiling tentatively, giving a small wave. Harry sees how Louis' gaze locks for a second and he turns, looking at his mother for a moment.
Harry doesn't wave back or smile like Louis expected, instead he grabs Louis by the neck and presses a warm kiss to his lips.
Louis can't really contemplate the action in the moment; all he can feel is Harry's hand around his neck, hot lips wetly melting into his own. Harry presses him softly into the car behind him, thigh pressing snugly against his. He can feel Harry's bag on the ground against the side of his leg, but most of all he feels the way Harry's curls tickle at his forehead and how soft his lips are.
"What are you doing," he murmurs nervously. "Your mum..." Somehow the fear of getting found out is subdued by the way Harry hands touch his jaw.
"Don't worry," Harry says lowly against his lips. Louis somehow trusts that, and then Harry plants a kiss on his jaw, hands squeezing his waist. It's so warm, and hot, but not in a way that Louis wants to rip his clothes off, but it's having him wish for this kiss to last a bit longer.
Harry kisses him against the car for what feels like hours, hands softly roaming his upper body, altering between licking into his mouth and pressing small kisses against his plump lips. It feels so...teenager-y. Or like a movie where they make out for hours simply because they can't get enough. It's not like that, but feels like it. In the moment. Not like, in real life. Or.
Whatever.
When Louis finally opens his eyes, Harry kisses him firmly on the lips once, then traps his chin between his thumb and index finger. Louis just looks back into his eyes, and a moment later Harry flicks his nose with his finger, giving a small smirk. Louis rolls his eyes before Harry's grabbing his bag off the ground and struts into his house, his mother no longer visible in the window.
Louis frowns as he drives home, still able to feel the touch of Harry's lips against his mouth and the feel of his hands on his waist and neck. He can't help but admit to it; he really, really likes the way Harry's hands feel.
They don't kiss like that, though, is the thing. They don't kiss just to kiss. They kiss when they have sex, or when they want to annoy each other, or mock one another with "endearing" nicknames. They don't spend fifteen minutes making out against cars like some pretty rom-com.
Louis isn't sure this was what it was, though. He's fairly sure this wasn't kissing for the sake of kissing. Harry's mum saw, and Louis is sure Harry knows that, too. He wanted her to, Louis realizes.
He trusts that Harry knows she won't say anything, but the idea that Harry only kissed Louis because she was watching, to prove a point, makes him feel eerily unsettled. Mostly, maybe, because Louis liked it.
He decides to ignore that for now.
**
It's raining and Louis can hear the drops of water smattering against the window. It's Friday, early, and he doesn't want to ever leave his bed. He also hasn't asked Harry about the kiss even though it's been days, but he feels warm and cozy wrapped in a duvet, Harry's next to him practically radiating heat.
Louis rolls over towards him, poking him lightly in the side.
"What," he huffs, turning his head and burying his face into the pillow.
Louis eyes him for a moment. There's a sense of comfort around him that Louis hasn't seen before. He looks content, sleepy and soft. Louis has somehow along the way realized that Harry might like sleeping at his house, here, in his bed.
"Wake up," he says, poking him in the side again. "School."
"I don't want to go," Harry mumbles and bats Louis' hand away. Louis tries to poke him again and their hands get into a bit of a struggle, Harry groaning in annoyance into his pillow as Louis tries to pinch him awake. Eventually Harry just grabs his arm and pushes him down on the mattress, flopping down on top of him. Louis' breath escapes him and he groans, Harry heavy and sprawling on top of him, chest against chest.
"We have to go to school," Louis says.
"No, we don't. I'm on you. You can't move." There's a roughness in his voice mixed with drowsiness, and the result is kind of endearing.
"We have to go to school," Louis repeats.
"No. Coach is going to cancel practice 'cause it's raining. And there's no game tonight." His breath tickles at Louis' collarbone and his leg feels hot between his.
"Classes."
"Not important. Let's stay in," he murmurs, lips puckering as he raises his head. "Have sex all day." It's extremely tempting, is what it is. "Your mum works the day shift today, right, Lou," he whispers. "Your sister will be in school, you'll be naked, I'll be naked... Special day..."
"Harry..."
"Fuck me." His lips are brushing against Louis' jaw, slightly wet and there's warmth radiating from his body. His hands are sliding up Louis' shoulders and gripping his neck, thumbs pressing up his jaw.
"Harry."
He leans up and kisses him, lips all wet, and Louis can't believe they're doing this when his sister's probably awake in the next room. He mostly can't believe he's kissing Harry when the boy's got morning breath and a pillow mark on his cheek.
Harry gets into it quickly, pushing Louis' ruffled hair back between his fingers, sliding up and kneeling over him. His knee is between Louis' thighs, and Louis feels slightly dizzy as Harry sucks on his bottom lip.
Harry's got a t-shirt on and Louis lets his hands squeeze his hips before feeling his way up under his shirt. His hands skim over his back, humming a little as Harry arches into him submissively. Harry sucks on his jaw and when he bites a little, Louis locks his hands around his wrists, rolling them over and pushing him into the mattress.
"You like to get bity, yeah?" he murmurs, Harry's hands locked above his head.
Harry doesn't answer, only juts his hips up with his eyes half-lidded, and Louis doesn't wait for more. He's got his leg snugly between Harry's, their hips pressed together. He pushes Harry's shirt up to his armpits, and resumes to drag his teeth down his chest.
"Oh my god."
Louis rips his head up vehemently, hands on Harry's naked chest.
"Louis, Christ. I didn't know you were into football players." It's Lottie. She's standing in the doorway, eyes wide and looking shell-shocked.
Oh.