The thing is, they didn't talk about it. They didn't. They almost kissed, right then and there, at Olive Garden. And they didn't talk about it.
It happened like this:
He leaned in, their lips almost touching, and whispered, "I think you've already lost the bet."
Harry shivered, feeling cold, even though the room they were in was almost eighty degrees. He didn't know what the fuck was going on. But he sure as hell was not about to stop it.
Harry was looking Louis directly in the eyes, never stopping the contact. It never stopped as Harry slowly put his arms around his shoulders. It never stopped as Louis put his hands on his waist. It never stopped as both boys leaned in ever so slightly, even though they were already less than an inch apart. It never even stopped as Louis stood up on his tippy toes, watching the light in his emerald green eyes sparkle as he tilted the smaller boy's chin up. But it did stop when they heard dozens of plates fall and break in the kitchen.
They immediately pulled apart, quicker than the speed of light, and coughed awkwardly. They just kind of stood there, two-and-a-half feet apart, completely out of breath for no reason other than the fact that they almost fucking kissed.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ed was screaming at the staff.
"ARE YOU ALL FUCKING MAD? DID YOU SEE THEM? DID YOU SEE THEM? THEY ALMOST FUCKING KISSED, AND THEY GOD DAMN WOULD HAVE IF JIMMY HERE DIDN'T DROP THOSE FUCKING DISHES!" he screamed.
"I'm sorry, Ed! I just saw them going in for the kiss and it made me drop the dishes! I just... I j-just love them s-so much- and I just want them to be together so damn bad..." Jimmy said, tears falling down his face.
Ed sighed. He walked over to Jimmy and put his arm around him.
"It's okay, Jimmy. They'll be okay. I promise you, if they almost kissed now, they'll definitely kiss again. They'll get together, date for a while, and then they'll get engaged and get larried. Okay?" he comforted, rubbing his hand up and down Jimmy's back.
"No!" Jimmy protested. "I want them to g-get toge-ether now. I want the-them to kiss."
"I know," Ed sighed. "Me too."
•••
It was pretty awkward the rest of the night. They quickly cleaned up and grabbed their things, and Harry rushed over to Ed, thanking him multiple times. Ed decided not to talk about the almost-kiss at that moment, he would bring that up another time. Jimmy just sat in the kitchen, in the middle of the broken plates, sobbing and sobbing.
They walked out of the restaurant and Louis looked around. His heart stopped, and his breathing haltered.
"H- Hazza..." he started.
"Hm?" he hummed.
"Whe-where is our car?" Louis started.
"Didn't I tell you not to worry about it?"
"Y- yeah... but-"
"No buts."
Louis scoffed teasingly. Their car was driven back to the hotel by a bellboy who was super-extra-paid, and a limo would be coming to pick them up. They were about an hour away from the hotel, and both boys were too drunk to drive, even though they were only a bit tipsy.
"So... how are we getting back?" Louis asked.
Right as he asked that, a slick, black limousine drove up in front of the boys. The chauffeur jumped out and opened up the door for them.
"I think this answers your question," Harry smirked as he let Louis go in first.
Inside the limo was like any other; long, lidded with bright lights, stocked with champagne and food. It was truly elegant, and they would have taken advantage of the free food and drinks, but the boys were much too full to eat another bite, and they also didn't want to get any more drunk than they already were.
So, instead, they sat on the leather couch that lined the limo, next to each other, of course. Harry spread his legs so that his knee could touch Louis' knee. He doesn't know why he did it, but he did. His legs were literally as open as an all-night bar. Like, damn.
And that's just what Louis was thinking.
To be exact, it was this:
"Why is he spreading his legs like that? Is it so he can touch my knee? He does realize that it's okay for him to just sit next to me, right? Ooh, beer. No, no beer. I wonder if the driver is cute. I haven't had sex in like a year. Maybe Hazza could help me ou- no. No, no, no. He is your best friend, Louis. Stop acting like that. Although, if he was my best friend, I wouldn't be feeling a weird desire to kiss him. What?! No! I don't want to kiss him! Yes, I do. I don't know! We almost kissed at the restaurant. What was that? Jesus, he's looking at me. Wow, his eyes look amazing in this lighting. He is so beautiful. God, what's wrong with me? Why is he looking at me- do I look bad? Holy shit, Louis, say something!"
"I limo think pretty is this," he stuttered out.
Harry laughed loudly, then immediately slapped his hand over his mouth.
"You what?"
Louis sighed, his cheeks turning a deep crimson color. He steadied his breathing and tried again.
"I... think... this... limo... is... pretty," he tried.
"Oh. Well, why didn't you say that?" Harry laughed.
Louis hit his shoulder playfully. "Shut it."
"Or what?" Harry joked.
"Or I'll kiss you," Louis blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth after he uttered those words.
Harry blushed a deep, deep red.
"You'll what?" he choked out.
"I- noth-nothing... I shouldn't have- no... um, nothing. Ignore m-me."
Harry blushed even deeper and nodded frantically.
"I need some water," Louis rushed out, crawling over to get a bottle.
Unfortunately, at that time, the limo ran over a speed bump, causing Louis to fall flat on his face, and, Harry, wanting to "save" him, accidentally fell right on top of him. Except, by the time Harry fell on him, Louis was already turned on his back. So, they basically almost kissed. Again.
"I- um, I'm v-very so-sorry," Harry stuttered out, trying to get off of Louis.
"It's okay."
They both got up and sat back on the couch, except this time, they didn't touch each other.
But they both wish they did.
•••
Once they got back to the hotel, it was more than awkward. They both changed into their pajamas, not facing each other. Which is totally weird, because they've never been embarrassed around each other before. It's never been an awkward thing. Alas, they both changed into comfortable clothes as quickly as they could, not daring to look each other in the eye.
Harry was wearing a grey t-shirt and lighter grey sweatpants with white fuzzy socks. (he may or may not have stolen them from Louis)
Louis put on a green sweatshirt with dark grey joggers and blue fuzzy socks. (he may or may not have stolen them from Harry)
Neither of the boys knew what to say. It was pretty late, around 10:30, but not late enough to go to bed. Besides, they were both buzzed from the alcohol they had, so they weren't tired. They were both just avoiding a conversation that they knew was going to happen.
Harry put his hair up into a messy bun, muttering something about how he had to go into the washroom because there was better light in there. Louis just nodded frantically and made some kind of hand movement that he mentally slapped himself for doing.
Harry shut the door behind him, completely out of breath for no reason whatsoever.
His thoughts went something like this:
"Okay, what the fuck. Louis and I almost kissed! Oh my god, I saw this little puppy the other day, it was so cute! I wonder if those satanic plastic bags are still being sold. I love kale. And strawberries. And Louis. Wait, what? No, yeah, I love Louis. Oh, shit. Yeah. The kiss. Right, so, Louis and I almost kissed in an Olive Garden! Why did we try to kiss then? And if those dishes hadn't fallen, would we have? I don't know. I think so. Holy shit, what is going on with me? Why am I feeling like this... for my best mate? I've felt this way before, I really have. It was the last time I was... in love. The last time I felt this way was when I was in love. Holy shit. Am I in love with Louis? No, I couldn't be. Is he in love with me? I mean, that would explain us not talking at all, or not looking at each other when we changed, or not being able to say actual words to each other without stuttering or something. What the hell is going on? @ brain? Oh my god, I think I like Louis. No, I can't. I can't. I don't. I wouldn't. Or... would I?"
Yeah. Harry was a confused, hot mess. Literally. He was sweating like a pig. Which reminded him that he actually came into the washroom to do something, and it wasn't just to think.
He put his hair up in a bun, which did not take any time at all, and steadied his breathing before unlocking the door and walking back into the hotel room, where he found Louis laying on one of the beds, watching something on the telly.
"Are you okay? You were in there for a bit," Louis commented.
"I was? It only felt like a minute," Harry responded, grateful that this conversation was not nearly as awkward as the past few have been.
"No, it's like eleven. I've been watching the telly for fifteen minutes, and I waited for you at the door for about ten."
Harry raised an eyebrow, not responding. Louis looked over and realized his mistake.
"N- no, shit- I don't mean... ah. No, I wa- wasn't, like, waiting- at the door for you. I was just, like, closer to the door. Fuck," he murmured.
The thing is, they didn't talk about it. Until now.
"Louis," Harry chuckles. "It's okay, take a breath, will you?"
Louis laughs an airy laugh. It's more like a chuckle, like that one you do just to fill up the space, when you have nothing to say.
"Listen," Harry starts, walking over to the bed the smaller boy is sitting on and turning off the telly. "We need to talk."
He sits on the bed, cross legged, facing Louis.
Louis gulps. "About what?" he manages to squeak out.
"About the amazing night we had and about the fact that... what happened at the restaurant."
"What happened at the restaurant?" Louis asks. He knows the answer to it, he just wants to make sure that they're talking about the same thing. And that it actually happened. Because that is totally something he would imagine.
"That we almost fucking kissed?" Harry blurts out.
Louis freezes. Yup, they're talking about he same thing. Oh, yeah. Most definitely.
"O-oh. That."
"Yeah," Harry says. "That."
"I ju- I..." Louis starts.
"Louis, hold on. I just... what was that? Why? Why did we almost kiss? I'm not saying it was a bad thing- be-because it wasn't, but I'm just asking, why? What... what happened? I don't- okay. Look. Best friends, best mates, like you and I, they don't kiss. They don't cuddle, or get matching panties, or kiss on the head and cheek and everywhere but the lips. They don't do what we do. And I know that that doesn't mean we aren't best friends, because we are, and nothing could change that, but if we aren't the classic best mates, then... what are we?" Harry rushes out.
Louis stops. He drinks in what Harry said, reliving every word as if he is saying it on repeat. He looks at Harry directly in the eye.
"I don't know," he breathes.
"I don't fucking know what we are, Hazza. Harry. Haz. I don't even know, do best friends call each other names? Do they do this? Do they go on a three week vacation together? Do they live together, own a cat together, have a fucking bet box? I don't know. I just don't know. I don't know what we are, or what I want us to be, or even how I fucking feel about you. I know I love you, I can promise you that. But, I just don't know... how... I love you. Do you understand?" Louis rushes out.
Harry nods. "I understand," he whispers. "I understand that we aren't like normal best friends. I understand that you don't know what we are, and neither do I. I understand that we don't know how we feel about each other, or which way we love each other. But I do understand that what we did back there, that almost-fucking-kiss we had or whatever the hell it was, I understand that that was one of the only times in my life that I felt safe. I felt secure. I felt like I could fall down into the pits of hell and you would be there, flying like Peter Pan, ready to rescue me. I understand that whatever that was, whatever I felt, I want to feel it again. I want to feel safe. I want to feel home," Harry says.
This is serious. They've exposed everything to each other, they've ripped each other apart; stripped down all of the layers that cover them and they've exposed their true selves to one another. They've done all that, yet this, this is the most serious, the most nerve-wracking, the most open, and true, and pure conversation they've ever had with each other. The question of them having feelings for each other that were anything but platonic used to not even be a question at all. But now that it is, they're ready to tear it down, limb from limb, and face it. Together.
"When we did that, together, I felt the exact same way. I felt like there was this energy surging through me, and there was this thought, and it was just overcoming me, and it just kept saying, 'everything is okay. Everything is fine. You have him to guide you, to protect you.' and now I know what that means. You are my angel. You can fly and you are going to teach me to fly with you so we can fly together, high in the sky. We'd be unstoppable, Haz. If I could fly, Hazza, I'd always come right back home. To you. My home. I heard this saying once, and it was, 'a house is a place. a home is a feeling.' and you are my home. My feeling. Now I know what you mean, on the plane, when you kept saying that you want to fly and be free and be able to just soar through the clouds without a worry in the world. And when I was with you, back at the restaurant, I knew what you meant. I know what you mean, now. When we almost kissed, I was flying. I was soaring, high in the sky, and I was free. I was flying, Haz. And I want to fly again," Louis says, looking Harry directly in the eye throughout his entire speech.
Harry nods. "We're going to fly together, Lou. I promise."
Louis nods, as well. He takes Harry's hands in his and brings them up, one by one. He starts with the right hand, and presses a kiss to one of his knuckles, just like the younger boy had done in the restaurant. He plants a kiss on each one of his knuckles on the right hand, still grasping on to the left one, as well. He then switches- he places his right hand down, still holding on to it, of course, and brings the left hand up. He kisses each one of his knuckles before setting that hand down, as well.
Harry looks up from where he was staring at their hands, entangled together on their laps. There's this aura throughout the room, the atmosphere, that's screaming "KISS, KISS, KISS!" and both of the boys feel it. But they're not ready. There is this mutual understanding between both of the boys that they know they want to fly, and they know they will fly, but they aren't quite ready to fly just yet.
They both understand this. There's this look in Louis' eyes, this little glint, and it speaks the words that were just thought of. Harry nods ever so slightly.
Harry lets go of his hands and leans forward, placing both of his hands on either side of Louis' face, high enough that they were cupping his ears. He presses a soft, sweet, tender kiss to Louis' forehead, one that lasts a few seconds, and when he moves his head back, he lets his lips linger on his skin, reveling in the feeling. His lips are not planted onto Louis' skin, but they are touching them just perfectly. It is a sweet action, one that speaks more than words could. It says, "we're not ready. But when we are, when you are, I'll be here, waiting for you."
Harry lets go of the older boy's face and lays down in the middle of the bed, signaling that he had said what needed to be said, and he was ready to end the night. Louis complies, happily, and lays down with his chest pressed against Harry's back. Though Harry is bigger, he loves being the little spoon. He always has and he probably (definitely) always will. He likes feeling like he is being protected. And Louis loves making him feel like that.
So, when Harry finally falls asleep, his lullaby being the sound of the boy behind him's breathing, that boy's arms wrapped securely around his waist, his legs slotted in perfectly, that very same boy leans in close to the curly haired one's ear, and whispers, "I love you."
Except this time, it sounds different to the still-awake Harry.
And it tastes different coming out of Louis' mouth.
It is different.
•••
A/N:
"And I want to fly again."
INSTAGRAM: hoeforlarries/larryforthenight