When Harry wakes up late on January first, it's almost like he's back at uni, and in fact takes him a moment to get his bearings: he's naked, back pressed up against the wall, his right arm completely dead from where Louis is using it as a pillow. When he cracks one eye open he finds the room is far too bright: his head is throbbing, mouth dry and rancid, and his stomach's bubbling uncomfortably. He can't quite remember how the night – or the morning, he supposes – ended, only that it involved everyone getting fairly naked and doing shots off one another. That would explain why he feels so sticky and gross, he supposes.
He has every intention of going back to sleep, but the minute he rolls himself over to curl around Louis it's like he's disturbed the sensitive equilibrium in his stomach and a wave of nausea hits him. He tries to ignore it, burying his face in Louis' shoulder and forcing his eyes shut, but it's no good, it only gets worse. Groaning, he lifts himself up on all fours, mildly perplexed at the fact Niall is lying on Louis' other side with a big handlebar moustache drawn on his face, the ink slightly smudged. As he stumbles out of bed he picks his way over the shapes of his sleeping friends, launching into a run as he descends the stairs and making it to the toilet just in time to chuck up a horrific mix of Doritos and tequila.
He flushes the toilet, head pounding as he rests it against the cool porcelain of the tank, resolving to never ever drink again (or let his friends coerce him into drinking so much ever again, maybe). He doesn't have the energy or the trust in his stomach to get up again, and he must fall asleep hugging the toilet because he wakes up to a pair of hands gently lifting him under the armpits back into an upright position and pressing a glass of water into his hands.
"Hi," he says croakily, taking the water as Louis huffs and wraps his arms around his torso fully to lift him.
"Oh, you're conscious, that's good. Fuck, you are a lump." He pulls Harry back in his lap, both of them rested against the bathtub, one of Louis' hands pushing Harry's sweat-sprung curls back from his forehead and kissing his shoulder as he steadily downs the glass of water. "Feeling all right?"
"Pretty awful," Harry says, snuggling back into Louis' hold and setting the empty glass on the linoleum floor. Louis rests his head against Harry's, fingers tangling in his hair. "Thanks for the water. Bit better now."
"That's the value of a tactical chunder, babes. Get it all out before you go to bed, and the mornings are always much better."
"That's disgusting," he says, before adding, "But I feel pretty disgusting now, though, so..."
"You'll be all right. I'd get you a damp flannel to cool you down, but your giant giraffe body has me kind of trapped."
Harry laughs a little, despite himself, nuzzling his nose into Louis' neck. "How kind."
"I always am."
They sit like that for a little longer, Louis' fingers lightly scratching his scalp and soothing him back to drowsiness. He really does feel awful, but it's so much better with Louis there. His boyfriend.
"We've been together a whole year," Harry says inanely, eyes still closed. Louis snorts.
"Feels like it was only yesterday, my love."
Harry cackles so hard he thinks he might throw up again. "Oh my god. I love you."
"Mm." Louis grins against his forehead. "Love you too. So much. I reckon I might even be able to stomach you for another year."
"Promises, promises," Harry says, shifting a little and reaching up to rub his greasy forehead. "I feel so gross. Can we go back to bed?"
"Sure." Louis lets go of him as he unsteadily gets to his feet, head spinning, and inspects himself in the mirror. It's not a great sight. He's got a lovebite on his neck as well, and not the kind you can just pass off as a trick of the light or a bruise. Louis grins at him in the mirror, and it's the first proper glance he's got at him all day: he look ruffled but chirpy, eyes puffy but crinkled as he laughs.
"Ooh, I got you good, didn't I," he muses, reaching up and pressing his thumb to the purpling bruise. Harry feels an uncomfortably arousing swoop in his stomach at the dull pain.
"I'll have to get you back later."
"Promise, promises," Louis mimics, before resting his hands on Harry's hips and gently shepherding him out of the room. He keeps his hands there all the way up the stairs, and Harry reaches back to grab one hand and twist their fingers together as they creep back into Louis' room. In their absence Niall has rolled into the middle of the bed and someone – probably Liam – is snoring in the corner.
"Move up, you twat," Louis hisses, hefting his arms under Niall and rolling him away, before deftly jumping back onto the bed. Niall stirs, groaning, as Harry swiftly follows him, preening a little as Louis tugs him onto his chest and curls an arm around his shoulders.
"What the fuck," Niall says croakily, just as Harry settles on Louis' chest, skin warm and smooth, "went on last night?"
"Good question, Neil, but I'm going to have to ask you to save that one for later, because I'm going back to sleep now," Louis says, squeezing Harry tighter. He grins against his chest, giddy with happiness even though he still feels a bit sick and his head hurts and his chest is sticky with tequila.
"Oh, Christ, are you naked?" he hears Niall say, the bed dipping as he shifts away. "You two didn't get off while I was passed out, did you?"
"No," Harry mumbles. "Might do if you stay long enough, though."
There's a chorus of sleepy groans from around the room – apparently everyone is less asleep than he'd thought – and a pillow lands on his back.
"It's way too early for me to have seen your cock, Harry," Leigh-Anne says, before adding pointedly, "again."
"Nakedness is freeing," Harry murmurs into Louis' chest, and just before he falls asleep again he hears Louis say, "If any of you start discouraging my boyfriend from getting naked at every opportunity, I'm going to have to reconsider our friendship."
They spend most of the rest of the day sleeping: everyone disappears in dribs and drabs during the day until it's just Louis and Harry again, and they cook pasta and kiss and lounge around the sofa in sweatpants and hoodies, empty bowls stacked up on the coffee table as Louis drapes himself over Harry, kissing him until his lips are numb. They go up to bed again just after eight when their respective hangovers have worn off – and they've had a very quick and very violent snow fight in what remains of the previous day's snowfall – and Harry makes quick work of undressing them both, pulling the duvet over them as he settles in between Louis' legs, arms hooked around his thighs and bringing them up to wrap around his waist as he sucks a bruise into the soft flesh of his upper arm.
"Harry," Louis says, flushed and breathless, fringe falling into his eyes as he runs one hand down Harry's side, the other curled loosely in his messy, unstyled curls. Harry grips his thighs tighter, teeth nipping at his reddened skin, as Louis says, "Harry, d'you want to – oh – do you want to fuck me, babe?"
Harry closes his eyes briefly, nosing at his soft skin and licking his lips. "'Course I do, yeah."
"'Cos, like," Louis bites his lip as Harry shifts his thighs higher up around his torso, and Harry loves the feeling of his tensing his muscles, clenching around him, "I spent so much time last semester thinking about it – like, a lot of time, you know? And-"
"You don't have to explain yourself," Harry says, smacking a kiss to his lips before holding Louis' gaze. "Just, like. Talk me though it, maybe? I don't want to be rubbish."
Harry preens as Louis leans up, nuzzling his face into his cheek and kissing along to his ear. "Yeah, baby. 'Course I will."
They kiss for a little while after that: Harry's tensed up a bit and he knows Louis is trying to settle him again, and he feels so full of love he's afraid if he tilts just a little it's going to slosh out of his ears. Once he's fuzzy and boneless, lips tingly, he feels Louis grab his wrist, watching slack-jawed as he drizzles lube over his fingers, scratching his free hand lightly through Harry's hair as he says, "Take it as slow as you want, I'm good. Just one first."
Harry closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against Louis' shoulder as he slides his lube-sticky hand in between Louis' legs, knuckles brushing the underside of his cock as he goes, amazed by how hard he is already. His free arm is up by Louis' head, elbow resting on the mattress as his fingers slide into his soft hair, and he feels the little exhaled gasp as he teases his middle finger around his hole before sliding it in. It's so obviously different from fingering a girl, nowhere near as slick and pliant, but as he works his way up to three he loves the way it makes Louis so responsive: no words, just soft little moans and shudders, clutching at Harry's back as he rolls his hips.
"That good?" Harry asks, kissing along his collarbone. Louis breathes out shakily.
"Yeah, good, your fingers, Harry – they feel so good, baby, so good, if you just-" He pauses, swallowing dry, Harry sucking a little lovebite onto his chest as he flexes his wrist, aching a little from the angle, "just – if you go a little deeper, just a little – oh, oh," he breathes shakily, muscles trembling, and Harry feels his cock, achingly hard and neglected, pulse with the sounds he's making and the way his blunt nails are digging into his back.
"Like this?" Harry murmurs, stretching his fingers a little more, Louis' cock smearing precome between the two of them.
"Yeah, that, I'm definitely – I think you're ok now, Harry, oh-" He chokes out a moan as Harry brushes his prostate again, before slowly removing his fingers, sitting up as Louis rips the condom open and slowly rolls it on, their mouths meeting in a hot, breathy kiss as Louis smears him with more lube, jerking him slowly as he does.
"Lou," Harry breathes into his mouth, arm trembling from where he's holding his weight up, his other hand slipping as he tries to grab Louis' hip, "Lou, I won't last, you have to – stop-"
Louis bites his jaw as he lets go of his dick, arms wrapped around Harry's neck as he goes the squeeze the base of his cock, trying to ease himself back from the edge as Louis goes back in to bite hard on the lovebite he'd give him the night before, the pain flowering in his gut as a bright spark of pleasure.
"Lou," he says again, whole body trembling as he lines himself up, watching Louis throw his head back as he slowly pushes in, the tendons in his neck standing out as he flushes right down to his chest. "Lou, tell me if – I'm going too fast-"
"It's good," Louis breathes, folding his ankles behind Harry's back and tugging him closer. Harry can't help stumbling forwards, bottoming out, mouth clamped on Louis' chest as he breathes hard, waiting for Louis to adjust.
"OK?"
"Yes, yes it's OK," he hears Louis say, laughing a little. "C'mon, Harry, go for it, I can handle it, I just want you to – fuck me-"
Harry moans into his skin at how raw and desperate he sounds, and with the fog of lust taking control of his brain he does what he's told: grabbing Louis' thighs and holding them up as he drives in, the only sounds the wet slap of skin on skin and Louis' broken moans as he arches his back, hands coming up to tangle in his own hair as he arches his back. It's the hottest thing Harry has ever seen, and his orgasm takes him by surprise after only a minute or so; he fucks Louis as hard as he can through the pulsing haze of pleasure, but he's not superhuman and he has to stop when it starts to get uncomfortable, frustrated with himself as he collapses down on Louis' chest, his cock still so hard between them.
"Sorry," he breathes into his skin, hearing Louis' breathing slow a little as he shifts his hips, going to pull out.
"S'okay," Louis says, patting his head as Harry gets up, tying the condom off, wrapping it in a tissue and chucking it in the bin. When he gets back to the bed Louis is furiously jerking himself off but Harry bats his hand away, settling in between his legs and spreading his thighs again, because he can't just leave his boyfriend hard and aching and unfulfilled. That would just be rude.
"Tell me if you don't want it," he says huskily, before drizzling a little more lube on his hand and sliding three fingers back in. Louis throws an arm over his eyes, hips bucking as Harry grips Louis' cock with his free hand, licking a stripe up each side before taking him down halfway. It's a bit of a mental challenge trying to suck him off and get his prostate with his fingers at the same time – especially when his brain is still half-useless after his orgasm – but it doesn't take much to have Louis curling a hand around the back of his neck, twining his fingers tight in the curls at the back of his skull and hoarsely crying out, "Harry, fuck, I'm coming."
He swallows him down as well as he can, but he still ends up with spit and come on his chin, lube all over his hand and Louis' upper thighs and his sheets. He's sweaty and disgusting but Louis still pulls him up for a cuddle anyway, arms wrapped tight around his neck as he flops down onto his chest.
"Sorry," Harry croaks, one finger drawing little circles over Louis' ribs. "You're so hot, I always come so fast."
"Guess we'll just have to practise loads, then," Louis says, kissing the top of his head and smoothing his hair back off his forehead. "It was great, anyway. Your hands really are something else. So so good."
"I feel really sticky," Harry murmurs, after a while. Louis laughs, chest shaking beneath him.
"Yeah, me too. C'mon. Shower."
"I've had way too many showers at your house," he says inanely, grumbling as Louis lifts him off his chest, but he doesn't complain so much when Louis climbs in with him, letting him massage shower gel into his shoulders and back and wash his hair.
It's perfect, just perfect, and he kisses the feeling into Louis' skin long after he's fallen asleep, staying awake for as long as he can to put off all the inevitabilities that come with going home.
"Oh my god," Gemma says when he walks in the door the next day, crinkling her nose at him. "Look at you."
Harry just grins at her, still lovedrunk and giddy, so much so that he probably shouldn't have been driving; it's a wonder he's managed to make it home in one piece.
"Boyfriend?" she asks, as he shuts the door. Harry nods.
"Yeah. Boyfriend."
Gemma rolls her eyes, but hugs him tightly anyway.
The last week of the holidays goes too quickly: he Skypes with Louis every day, spends a couple of evenings in the pub with his school friends before they all disperse around the country again, and spends his last night at home in front of the fire with the cat in his lap, playing Scrabble with his mum, Robin and Gemma.
He hasn't been able to face looking at his textbooks, promising himself he's going to start revision the minute he gets back to uni, though he's been pretending to his mum that he's been locking himself in his room revising all day: no such truth, because most of that time has been spent covertly attempting phone sex, which had originally ended with Louis in hysterics and Harry flushed from head to toe with embarrassment, come streaked up his chest, and ended with Harry biting his own wrist to stop from shouting out as he came at Louis' instruction.
Louis tells him he's going back to uni a couple of days early to start revision, but Harry can't get dropped off until the Sunday so he has to wait as Louis teases him with what they could be doing if Harry was in Manchester. He can't get out of the house fast enough on Sunday afternoon, making his mum roll her eyes affectionately at him and Gemma mime vomiting: it's the longest hour of his life, and when he texts Louis sayingnearly there he gets an almost instant reply, good can't wait to get you inside me again, can never get it right when I finger myself xxx
He blushes but his mum doesn't notice as he covertly adjusts himself in his jeans, replying your gonna make me hard in my mum's car. It takes a couple of seconds for Louis' reply to come through. It's a picture message, and it's –
Harry violently locks his phone and stuffs it into his pocket, crossing his legs and angling himself towards the window so his mum can't see how flushed he is. Luckily the heating is on full blast so he's got a bit of a disguise.
They say goodbye quickly when they get to his halls: he grabs his bag and hottails it up to the flat, intending on just dumping his stuff and going straight to Louis', but as soon as he fishes for his keys in his pocket Perrie's door open and she asks, "Is Louis coming over tonight?"
Harry frowns, key not even in the door, dumping his bag on the floor. "Um. Not sure. I was thinking about going to his. Why?"
"Well, everyone should be back tonight and I want to coordinate when we do our house viewings. So I reckon he should come over ours. But don't just hole up in your room," she says, waggling her eyebrows. Harry narrows his eyes at her. He's almost literally itching to see Louis and get his hands on him again, even after just over a week's separation.
"Like you and Zayn didn't spend the entire last semester in each other's pockets," he says, finally getting the key in the lock. "And hello to you too, by the way."
After that he gets hugs and then Liam and Jade and Leigh-Anne appear from their rooms, so that instead of disappearing for Louis' flat, Harry ends up drinking tea and gossiping in the kitchen, only daring to shoot Louis a brief text that says come over ours instead? .xxx and not checking it again in case he gets another picture of Louis' dick and springs a boner at the table.
He turns up about half an hour later, ringing Harry to let him in, and when he opens the flat door and sees him there, dressed in his comfiest joggers and with a beanie pulled over his fringe, kit bag hanging off one shoulder, it's a supreme effort to not just drag him into his room and not come out until the next morning.
"Hiya babes," Louis says, grinning as Harry pulls him up for a kiss and a hug, burying his face in his neck and breathing him in as Louis wraps an arm around his neck and kisses his shoulder. "Missed you."
"Missed you too." He hugs him a moment longer, before the draft from the hallway makes them shiver and he grabs Louis' hand instead, shutting the door behind him. "What's with the overnight bag?"
"I'm moving back in," Louis says, a little flutter of hope rising in Harry's chest as he grins up at him. "Nah, joking. First training session of the semester tomorrow, thought it'd be easier just to go straight from here. Plus I needed somewhere to put my books."
"Your books?" Harry lets him into his room so he can get rid of his stuff. Louis pokes him in the hip, pouting up at him.
"Yes, my books, would be pretty hard to revise without them, Curly."
"Clever baby," Harry murmurs, giving him the kiss he's asking for, and he's about to let the door swing shut from his fingertips when Niall comes out of his room and clears his throat noisily.
"Oi. Flat meeting, you prats. Save the bumming for later."
Harry gives a dramatic flourish with his hand, which ends with him flipping Niall off. Louis grins and leads him back into the kitchen, initiating a long round of hiya sweethearts and how are yous, before everyone funnels into the kitchen, even Zayn, who settles himself quite happily on Perrie's lap. She wraps her arms around him like it's nothing.
"I did pop a note under Mystery Dave's door," Perrie says worriedly, linking her hands over Zayn's stomach as he opens a packet of prawn crackers and offers them around the table. "But he never replied. So."
"You weren't honestly going to suggest we spend another year living with the invisible man, were you?" Louis says, one arm draped over Harry's lap and loosely curled around his thigh. Harry sneakily nicks Zayn's bag of prawn crackers and starts munching on them, just so incredibly happy to have Louis pressed up against his side again.
Perrie sticks her tongue out at Louis. "It was the nice thing to do. Anyway, I've been looking on the list of letting agents the uni provided-"
Jade gets out her laptop and they look through a few houses, though none are that inspiring: Louis wants cheap and doesn't care what it looks like, but Jesy wants something that won't go mouldy and is actually half decent, and then on top of that there's the fact they can't quite decide how many rooms they need.
"So I searched nine bedroom-" Perrie begins.
Harry frowns and interrupts, "But we only need seven, don't we? If me and Lou and you and Zayn are sharing-"
"No no no, hang on," Niall says, from the other side of the table. "How's that fair, you get half rent? And what if something happens with either of you two? Not saying it will, but-" Niall withers under four separate glares.
"In fairness, mate," Liam says, "I reckon if anything goes sour with either of those couples, not sure we'd be wanting to live in that house at all, extra rooms or not."
"I don't think me and Harry need an extra room," Louis says, a little smugly. "We lived together all this year anyway even before we were going out."
"Yeah, and look how that turned out when you had your funny five minutes at the end of term," Jesy says, folding her arms and frowning. "Maybe we should go eight rooms, um, just in case of...things happening. Just divide up the rent between the nine of us."
"But that's so complicated," Louis whines.
"It's just adding and dividing," Leigh-Anne replies, hitting him on the thigh. "I think that's a good idea. That means no one has to have the shittest room, right? We can just use it as a spare. And if we have anyone down to stay, they can stay there."
There's a rumble of assent, and Harry meets Zayn's eyes across the table, tossing him his crisps back; he just shrugs, reaching back to wrap an arm around Perrie's shoulders and dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
"OK," Perrie says, after Zayn whispers something in her ear. "Eight bedrooms, then. Let's have a look..."
They decided on four that look decent enough, and Perrie promises to book the viewings for a time they're all free. Finally, though, he gets his chance to disappear with Louis – Liam mumbles something about keeping his headphones in for the rest of the night – and all illusions of anybody doing any revision goes straight out of the window.
The next week passes in what Harry can only describe as a sex haze; he can't stop grinning and he can't pay attention in any of his lectures – not that he goes to many – and revision just isn't happening. Oddly, he finds that he doesn't really care: over the Christmas break he's realised just how boring law is, and what a safe, boring choice it was when he'd panicked about not knowing what to do with his life in school. This thing is, he's really starting to think he can't imagine himself being a lawyer at all.
It's much better, instead, to lie half-dressed on Louis' bed as he sits cross-legged on the opposite end of the bed, watching as he makes notes and frowns at books. Sometimes they re-enact drama scripts – always a lot of fun – and quite a lot of the time they end up naked, Louis giving Harry long, luxurious blowjobs or fucking him into the mattress, since Harry never lasts long enough when he's fucking Louis for them both to come. It's a bit frustrating, but he's trying to work on it, and Louis has this gorgeous torture he does in the meanwhile, keeping him on the edge of coming for ages until Harry's basically sobbing for it, and every time he comes it feels like some of his brains leak out.
Which might explain why he can't do any work.
"Harry."
He wrinkles his nose, keeping his eyes shut as Louis' finger twirls in his hair.
"Harry. Wake up. Harold."
"No," Harry says, rolling over and stuffing his face into the pillow. It's the middle of the afternoon, two days before his first exam, and he's trying to forget anything exists.
"I'm going to the library. C'mon, babes." Louis rubs a warm hand over his back, gently pinching his skin. They're at Louis' flat since Liam has banned them from having sex when he's meant to be revising, and Harry doesn't want anyone asking him about how much work he's done when he's done nothing. "Come with me. Just for a couple of hours."
Harry sighs, lifting his head off of the pillow and squinting up at Louis. He's fully dressed, glasses and beanie on, and has a pleading look on his face.
"Baby," he says softly, rubbing his thumb over the soft hair at the back of his neck. "I'm worried about you. I don't want to be, like, responsible for you failing-"
"It's not you," Harry says, rolling over onto his back and folding his arms over his eyes. "I'm just, like. Um. Kind of worried I've made a mistake. With my degree."
"You're worrying, babes. Nothing you can do now, though, is there? You've still gotta do your exams," Louis says, sitting down on the bed and gently tugging his arms away from his eyes. "Harry, please."
Harry sighs, rubbing his eyes before nodding. He gets dressed slowly, sulking ever so slightly – OK, a lot – on their walk up to campus, even though Louis' warm hand is in his, and he's being his hyper self, the kind of mood he gets in when he can tell someone else needs distracting. Harry has cheered up slightly by the time they join the queue for the library – there is a fucking queue for the library – and just manages to let Louis tease him into a quick kiss when a voice from somewhere in front of them says, "Oh. Louis."
Harry frowns when he looks up and sees Mark: he's not with his girlfriend, apparently on his own in the queue. Louis' face flutters through a few emotions before settling on confused, and Harry grips his hand tighter.
"Hey, Mark," Louis says, with what Harry can tell is a false smile. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"No. Neither."
Now he's come closer Harry can see how tired he looks, grey and washed out, and if he's not mistaken Mark's eyes are anchored on his and Louis' entwined hands. He looks kind of empty, like the shutters are closed behind his eyes, and Harry feels a weird urge to tug his hand out of Louis' to stop things being so awkward.
"Um." Louis clears his throat, turning briefly to Harry as he says, "Mark, Harry, you've met, obviously..."
"Yeah," Mark says, sniffing and jerking upright, staring at Louis as if Harry isn't even there. "Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you. See you around, Louis."
"Yeah, sure." They're quiet as they watch him go: he doesn't rejoin the queue, instead stuffing his hands in his pockets and striding off across campus. Harry bites his lip and turns to Louis.
"You OK?"
"Yeah," Louis says, biting his cheek. "He doesn't look happy."
"You don't regret-"
"No!" Louis swiftly punches him in the arm as punishment. "Don't be so bloody thick, Harry, I don't regret you for a second. I love you. C'mere." He gets a soft kiss, Louis' cold fingertips trailing his cheeks. "He just looked rough, that's all. And he was my friend, before all the shit stuff. It's tough seeing someone struggle with themselves like that."
Harry's mouth sets in a taut line, and Louis rolls his eyes at him. "Harry. Don't be jealous. There's nothing to be jealous about. Forget it. Please?" He pouts for a kiss, and Harry reluctantly gives him one, twisting both of their hands together as he smudges his lips against his cheek. Louis leans his forehead on the lapel of Harry's coat, tightening his grip on Harry's hands. Harry watches Mark as he disappears across the quad, trying to concentrate on the feeling of Louis in front of him, warm and solid, and how much learning he has to do.
"I can feel you thinking," Louis says after a minute, and that makes Harry smile, just a tiny bit. "Stop it."
"I can't help it."
"Will it help if we go for waffles after revising?" They shuffle along awkwardly as the queue moves, not detaching from one another. Harry turns his lips down in a pout Louis can't see. "You can steal as much of my food as you want."
Harry lets the silence linger for a moment or two before pressing a kiss to the side of Louis' head. "Yeah. But I'm buying this time. And we're getting milkshakes."
Louis huffs a laugh into his coat. "Yeah. All right."
Despite his last-ditch attempts at revision, the last weeks of January are a painful blur of undoubtedly failed exams and no Louis, because Louis has taken the executive decision that Harry constantly knocking his books out of his hand so he can blow him isn't exactly helpful. Louis' last exam is in fact on the 31st of January, the day before Harry's birthday, and he can't help but be miserable because he hasn't seen his boyfriend for four days and he isn't going to see him for another three, and on top of that he's probably about to fail his degree.
"So," Perrie says, as they're packing up from their last radio show of the weekend, "what d'you wanna do on your birthday?"
"Dunno," Harry says, spying Nick through the window and frowning when he sees he's with Ed and Niall, of all people. "I don't really fancy going out."
"What?" she says, mouth dropping open. "You can't no go out, babes, it's what we do! We need to get you very, very, very drunk," she says, pinching his cheek. He pouts and flinches away from her, shrugging his jacket on. "Oh, babes. Are you upset about Louis?"
"No," Harry lies, checking his phone for the hundredth time that night. His last messages still reads ill text you before I go to bed just need to finish this topic, good luck on the show love you :) xxx.
"I think it's great he's doing his work. You should be proud of him," she says, wrapping her scarf around her neck. "Wish I could say the same for Zayn. I don't know how he does it, he just sits up all night the day before, drinking red bull and smoking and-"
"I'm not annoyed," Harry says shortly, even though he's being a dick, opening the door and forcing a smile for the boys. "Hey, what's up?"
"Found these two wandering the corridors," Nick says, raising his eyebrows. "Looking for you, apparently. I did warn them you've been a grumpy sod recently, but apparently that hasn't deterred them."
"You can say that again," Perrie says sourly, and Harry gives her an apologetic smile as she goes to open the door to the lobby. "You coming, Harry? 'Cos there's no way I'm walking across campus on my own this time of night."
"Give us a minute, will you?" Niall says, shifting his guitar on his shoulder. "Nick, d'you mind walking Pez to the bus stop?"
"Since I am apparently today's errand boy," Nick says, but obliges anyway, leaving Harry with Niall and Ed and trying not to look as bad-tempered as he feels.
"Listen, mate. We wondered if you were up for a jam tonight? You know, for the karaoke thing? Next round is on Sunday," Ed says, smiling at him.
Niall nods. "Take your mind off things?"
Harry considers it. He would only be going home to morosely stare at his phone and wait for Louis' goodnight text, so he decides to stop being a miserable bastard – it's not a good look on him – and nods.
"Yeah, cool, why not?" he shrugs.
"Excellent. There's a room by the back entrance to the music building they always leave unlocked."
Harry follows them, listening as Niall chats away to fill the silence, phone buzzing in his pocket where his hand's clamped around it. He hangs back a little as they walk to read the text.
Ok ive had enough, do you want to come over ? I've missed you and your cute little bum a whole lot xxx
Harry bites his lip, glancing up at Ed and Niall in front of him.
Sorry, he types with leaden fingers, staying up at campus for a bit with Ed and niall, maybe tomorrow? .x
He's not expecting a reply, so he's surprised when he gets a reply less than a minute later.
Mind if I gate crash ? Ive been going stir crazy sitting here all day, just want to see you to be honest :( xx
"Hey," Harry says, making them slow down a bit, "d'you mind if Louis comes along? It's OK if you don't-"
Ed shrugs. "Don't mind. The more the better."
Niall rolls his eyes and slings an arm around Harry's shoulder. "If it cheers you up out of your foul mood, you soppy fecker, I'm game for anything. Except public sex. I'm not here for that."
Harry tries to hide his little smiles as he replies Yeah that's fine, we're in the music building. Come in the back entrance, should be unlocked. See you in a bit, love you .xx
When they get to the music building Harry just sits and watches Ed and Niall play for a while, a mixture of Ed's own songs and covers of others, feeling a little useless until Niall launches into Champagne Supernova and he starts singing along. The three of them sing for a while, and Harry can't explain it – it's like the moment he realised how in love he was, like his ribs are expanding and something light and wonderful is stretching out from inside of him. He's always loved being the centre of attention and loves it even more when he can make people smile, and this, the singing, is weirdly the most fun he's had without Louis for a long time.
"-someday you will find me, caught beneath the landslide, in a champagne super- oh." He trips up on himself when he realises Louis is standing in the door, leaning on the wall with his arms folded and a look of – well, Harry can't really describe it, but it's soft and fond and full of love, he thinks. Ed and Niall trail off, turning to the door, as Louis says, "Oi, don't stop on account of me, that was fucking excellent."
"Alright, Tommo," Niall says, getting up and giving him a a hug as he walks in. "This is my mate Ed, Ed, this is Louis, mate of mine and Harry's boyfriend."
"Hi," Ed says, going straight for the bro-hug. Harry's last, murmuring hello and kissing Louis on the cheek before pulling him into a big hug.
"You never told me you were good at singing," Louis says, poking him in the sides as they sit down side by side, his hand snaking into Harry's. Harry shrugs, pleased and a little flustered, as Ed starts to pick out another tune, another one he doesn't know.
"I dunno. It's just one of those things, y'know. I was in a band at school but wasn't everyone?"
Louis opens his mouth to reply when Niall says, "Y'know what, Louis' right, that was sick. Why don't we go again from the top? I reckon that's a decent shout for our song."
"What song?" Louis says, shifting a little closer to Harry and flicking his hair out of his eyes.
"Karaoke on Sunday. It's a competition. You should come along," Ed says, with a grin. "Now, c'mon, let's go again..."
It's nice, sitting there on the edge of a platform with Louis' hand in his, singing into an empty music room at half eleven at night, and after they've walked back to the flat together, Ed disappearing halfway through to go back to his own halls, Niall says, "Listen, mate, you've got a cracking voice. Like, really. If me and Josh ever start our band I reckon you'd be a good call for the frontrunner."
"See, Harold," Louis says, pinching his sides as he goes to unlock the flat door, vainly pretending not to be insanely flattered, "it's not just me who thinks so."
"Shut up," Harry says affectionately, reaching back to pinch Louis' stomach, though he flinches out of the way in time. "My ego's so big I won't fit through the door."
"Well, I'll leave you to your weird dirty talk," Niall says, pushing past them into the flat and going straight to his room. When they're back in Harry's room, him flopped on his bed, Louis undressing and pulling on a pair of Harry's pyjamas – he never wears them, but his mum bought them for him "in case you get cold in the winter" – he says, "Do you really think I'm good, Lou?"
"Absolutely," he says, slipping into bed next to him, the springs creaking in protest. Harry loops an arm around his shoulders, fingers gently stroking over his collarbone. "How comes I've never heard you sing before, eh?"
"Dunno," he replies, eloquent as ever. "Don't really do it much, I guess."
They're quiet for a moment, Louis reaching up and folding Harry's hand in his, before he says, "Y'know, when I was eighteen I nearly went on for X Factor. I did this stupid school musical and thought I was going to be the next big thing. Filled out the form and everything."
"What happened?" Harry asks, running his thumb along Louis' index finger. There's a little pause, and then Louis wriggles next to him, scratching his nose.
"Oh, my mum couldn't get the day off work before the audition because I only told her two days beforehand. Serves me right, to be honest. Never thought about it again after that, until today."
"That's funny," Harry says, grinning at him. "I nearly went in for it as well, when I was still in school. Chickened out, though. Funny how things turn out, isn't it."
"Yeah," Louis whispers, and Harry watches his thumb trace its path back and forth over Louis' hand. There's another little pause, and then he says, "Can I come and watch? Your karaoke thing, I mean. It sounds fun."
Harry laughs. "Watch me make a tit out of myself, more like?"
"You won't make a tit out of yourself, love. You'll be great," he says firmly, pushing his fringe out of his face. "What's the prize, then? A free round at the bar?"
"Um, five grand, I think." Louis gapes at this, so Harry quickly continues, "We're doing it for Ed, so he can get his stuff properly recorded in a proper recording studio. He's really good. I mean, you've heard him."
"Isn't that a bit unfair on you and Niall and Josh, though?"
"I dunno. It was their idea. Anyway, I don't mind helping, Ed's song are sick." Harry turns his head so he can nuzzle his nose in Louis' hair. "Hey. Never heard you sing either, you know."
Louis laughs, kissing their entwined hands. "Just as well now, you're much better than I am. Would have embarrassed myself."
"I don't believe that."
"You are too good for this world, Harold, I keep telling you," Louis says, but ends up squealing a little in delight as Harry rolls over onto him, trapping him with the heavy weight of his entire body, hand still awkwardly twisted around his shoulders.
"I'm not gonna give up until I hear you sing," Harry says, nudging their noses together. "Sing for me, Lou. Pleeeeease."
"Absolutely no way."
"Pleeeeeeeaase, Lou."
"No! Now get off, you giant, I can't breathe," Louis squawks, struggling as much as he can, and Harry holds off until he is genuinely worried he's suffocating his boyfriend, banging against the wall as he rolls off.
"Sorry Mystery Dave," he whispers against the wall, which gets Louis laughing. Harry curls himself around his body, head rested on his chest just over his heartbeat. "You don't have to sing if you don't want to. Sorry."
"S'alright," Louis says, hand coming to rest in his hair. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. I'm taking you out for a posh dinner on your birthday. So don't make plans."
Harry grins into his chest.
"Posh dinner, you say?"
"And waffles. And lots of alcohol, if you want it."
Harry grins into his chest. "And presents?"
"Well, that would telling, wouldn't it, Harold?"
"I'm excited for presents," Harry breathes, kissing his chest. "And waffles."
"Such a child," Louis says, and Harry's sure he means to be mocking but it comes out all soft and fond, and Harry knows he'd never have him any other way.