The shift in his mood the next few days is palpable – everyone seems a lot less annoyed with him, for a start, and Perrie is delighted when Harry tells her that yes, they can go out on his birthday, but only when he gets back from his posh date. He waits for Louis outside the gymnasium after his last exam – apparently he's that desperate – and they go for pizza with Niall and Ed and Josh afterwards at the uni cafe, before Louis takes him back to his flat and lets him fuck him into the mattress, slow and steady this time, and with an immense amount of concentrate Harry even manages to last long enough to get Louis to come with him inside of him – so much effort that he falls asleep straight afterwards and doesn't wake up until half-past six at night, to the smell of tea and a freshly-showered Louis playing XBOX with his feet up on the desk.
"Hey," Louis says casually, and before Harry can even sit up he tosses Harry's iPad at him. "Pezza keeps emailing you, it's pissing me off."
"Emailing me?" Harry says, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand, knee hurting from where the iPad landed.
Louis puts the ball in the back of the net with Rooney on the little TV screen, spinning on his chair to raise his eyebrows at Harry. "Yes, babes, you know, since you've been asleep all afternoon and your phone's rung about five hundred times and you've got about a thousand texts."
Harry frowns, opening up his email app. He's got four emails, one from Tesco, one from Amazon, and just the two from Perrie. Louis' big talent has always been dramatics.
"It's only two – it's just about the radio show, and apparently we're going to see some houses next week. Don't you have that English seminar on Tuesday afternoons?"
Louis shrugs, spinning the chair back around as United kick off again. "Yeah, but now exams are over I feel like some time off."
Harry snorts fondly, tapping out a reply. "You don't make any sense."
"Neither do you, Mr 'I've done no revision and suddenly want to give up on my course'."
"Fuck off," Harry says, launching forwards to tickle him, catching him by surprise – and for the first time in ages actually tickling him, making Louis yelp and hit his knee on the desk, nearly falling off his chair and smashing the TV screen with the XBOX controller.
Louis glares at him, flustered with his fringe falling in his face. "You caught me off guard this time, Styles-"
Harry grins stupidly, leaning forward and smacking a big kiss to his forehead, managing to get a little squeeze of Louis' tummy in before he slaps him away. "You love it really, Lou."
"I absolutely can guarantee to you that I do not," he says, fixing his fringe and staring at the screen very intently while Harry gazes at his flustered expression. He loves it when Louis gets like this. He calls it his 'uncomfortably aroused' face; he's spent a few nights pinning a squirming Louis to the bed, running the tips of his fingers down his sides light as a feather, Louis' arms and legs kicking out as he gasps with laughter and pinches Harry's skin, all while his cock gets thick and heavy under Harry's hip.
Harry decides that he'll start getting dressed to get Louis to pay attention to him again, and he only manages to put one foot in his ripped jeans when Louis asks without turning his head, "You wanna stay here tonight or shall we go to yours?"
"Don't mind," Harry says, dropping the jeans immediately, looking back up at him and grinning cannily. "Depends where my present is."
"Cheeky sod," Louis says, but he's grinning too as he puts his feet back on the desk. "It's here, so up to you."
"Here it is," Harry says happily, flopping back under the duvet and grabbing his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans.
They don't do anything for the rest of the day except play FIFA – Harry only makes it through one game, which he loses 7-5, before sulking majorly and deciding to watch TV on Louis' laptop instead – and lounge around in Louis' room. They have beans on toast for dinner, because that and Coco Pops is all Louis ever has in his cupboard, and Harry waits eagerly until they're in bed and the clock on his phone ticks over to 00:00. He nuzzles into Louis' neck and says officiously, "It's my birthday, I want my present."
He's disappointed when Louis just shakes his head, pushing Harry's hair down over his eyes with one hand. "Not until after dinner, babes. Don't be impatient."
Harry groans and rolls over so he's facing the wall, but Louis does end up taking pity on him and giving him a gorgeous, slow blowjob with two fingers deep inside him, so it's not all bad.
He wakes up to Louis bringing him breakfast – admittedly it's slightly-cold tea in a styrofoam cup from the cafe a couple of roads away and a slightly greasy salmon and cream cheese bagel, but it's still the best thing that he's ever woken up to on a birthday. The rest of the day is a haze of heart-eyes and sickening storybook romance, so much so that he misses his mum's birthday phonecall because he's fast asleep in the middle of the afternoon, again, come streaked up his chest and lube smeared all up his inner thighs after possibly the best fucking in his life (so far, he thinks happily).
"Can I have my present yet?" Harry asks for the hundredth time, as Louis shepherds him out of the room at half five so he can go back to the flat and change into something nice for dinner. Louis, who has spent the entire day looking incredibly smug, shakes his head.
"Not yet."
"But you said it was here!"
"Maybe it's in transit," Louis says loftily, grabbing Harry's hand and leading him off down the corridor, Harry feeling vaguely affronted and led-on (but also incredibly happy and well-fucked and slightly wobbly and like his brains might actually fall out, but in the best way possible).
Harry is in the middle of wheedling Louis about his present – "Can you give me a rough estimate of the size?" "No." "Bigger or smaller than this." "Shut up, Harry." "So bigger? Like more suitcase-sized?" "Oh my god, you are unbearable." – that he doesn't at first notice when they get into the flat and all the lights are off. Louis goes all quiet and even in the dark Harry can see he's biting his lip and trying to contain that stupidly adorable fond grin he does.
"Lou, what-"
"Come with me," is all he says, voice soft, taking both of Harry's hands in his and towing him towards the kitchen door. When he opens it, Harry has to stop and rest against the wall for a moment, because it's beautiful.
The kitchen – which normally is in a state of perpetual post-apocalyptic chaos, dirty washing up and crumbs everywhere – is spotless and everything's been tidied away off the sides to make room for what looks like half a million little tea lights, their flames flickering and reflecting like little stars off the big windows behind the table. He doesn't get long to appreciate it before the whole flat jumps up and yells, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" and he can only laugh – so he doesn't cry – as he pulls Louis in for a long kiss, before hugging all his flatmates in turn, taking the little bag Jesy gives him with a big smacking kiss on the cheek and, "Have a lovely evening and see you in a bit, my love," murmured in his ear.
"I love you all," he says to all of them, as they file out with winks and covert smiles and leaves him with Louis, beautiful and smiling in the middle of the room as Harry kisses him again, hands secure on his hips.
"Love you most," he murmurs, feeling Louis smile against his mouth.
"Would it be very unromantic to say how hungry I am right now?" he says softly. Harry laughs, burying his face in his shoulder. "Really, I'm starving."
"Better impress me, then," he says, and Louis shoos him out of the kitchen to get changed. He doesn't change his jeans, just reaching for the black button-down at the back of his cupboard that hasn't seen the light of day since arriving here in September. He opens the flat's present while he's there – it's a bottle of fairly posh sauvignon blanc, a bottle of strawberry-flavoured lube and a packet of ribbed condoms.
"Ha, ha," Harry says to himself, ripping open the card and grinning at all their comments, before taking the wine back into the kitchen with him. Louis is sitting at the table with an envelope in his hands.
"For you," he says, as Harry hands him the wine to pour. Harry doesn't bother to hide his stupid grin as he opens it, fishing out a card that has a picture of two mushrooms on and reads TO A FUN GUY! Harry snorts embarrassingly loudly, and Louis shifts a little in his seat, hiding his grin in his wine glass – Harry thinks they've probably been nicked from Leigh-Anne – as he says, "Thought you'd like the pun."
"Yeah," Harry says, heart thumping in his throat as he opens the card. There's two tickets inside for The 1975 at the HMV Ritz in September. "Lou-" he starts to say.
"I tried to get tickets to the one next week but they were sold out," he says hurriedly, and even in the glow of all the millions of tealights Harry is sure he can see him blush. "But they're coming back in September, so I just went for it."
"You remembered that conversation we had," Harry says quietly. "That was ages ago."
"Yeah, well." Louis clears his throat, glancing away before holding Harry's gaze as he says, "I was in love with you for a really long time before I did anything about it."
Harry looks down at the card, where Louis has stuck a picture of the two of them on the inside, inside jokes littering the empty space. None of this is what he'd expected from uni – he'd expected cultured discussions in art cafes, long coffee-driven nights in the library, a gaggle of sophisticated, intellectual friends who were well-read and well-bred, and maybe some faceless blonde girl that he could share late nights and early mornings with – but it's almost more perfect because of that. Because maybe none of that happened, but instead he's got everything he never knew he wanted, and he wouldn't change it for the world.
One night two weeks later, he's cooking dinner – Leigh-Anne is showing him how make the delicious lasagne she does with lentils – when the kitchen door opens to reveal Niall supporting a limping Louis into the room, both still in their football gear with mud splattered all up their legs.
Harry abandons the meal just as Louis protests, "I'm fine, Niall, really, it's not as bad as it looks-"
"Harry," Niall says, as Harry grabs Louis and supports him instead, "Sorry, mate, but I thought it would be best if he came back to our flat. I know how much you love looking after him-"
"Fuck off," Louis says, just as Harry objects, "Heeeey!"
Niall rolls his eyes, wiping his hands on his filthy white shorts. "Whatever. It's his knee, Haz. Want me to get some frozen peas for it, mate?"
"I'm fine," Louis sighs, but his hand tightens around Harry's waist as he walks them to the table; he is limping quite badly. Niall gets the peas anyway.
"What'd you do?" Harry asks, as Louis eases himself into the chair. Louis pushes his fringe out of his face and glares at the table.
"That twatbag Fennelly absolutely clattered him," Niall fills in, handing Louis the peas. Louis sighs again, pressing his hand to his eyes as Harry frowns at him. "Took him out, completely uncalled for. He's been in a pissing foul mood these last few weeks. No prizes as to guessing why."
"Niall, just drop it," Louis says, and just as Harry turns to walk away he feels Louis' hand tugging on his jumper. "Harold, come back here. I'm fine. You've got nothing to worry about. Come here." Harry knows he's pouting a little as Louis fists his hand in Harry's jumper and pulls him down for a kiss, soft and reassuring. "I'll be OK. It's only a bit bruised."
Harry nods slowly, unconvinced, lowering his voice as he says, "I don't want him hurting you, Lou."
"It's just football. He'll get over himself. Besides-" Louis winces just a little as he shifts the frozen peas on his knee, "-if he does that ever again, he'll get kicked off the team."
"No doubt," Niall pipes in from the freezer, where he's grabbing a bag of frozen Yorkshire puddings. "No room for childish twattishness in any team of mine, that's for sure."
"OK." Harry pecks his lips again, one hand curled around Louis' neck. "You sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine. I promise," he says, and then Harry leaves him be, finishing dinner and getting distracted when Perrie comes bounding in claiming she'd met Mystery Dave on the stairs.
After a lengthy discussion over whether Perrie is right or not – which ends with Jade putting mashed potato in her hair and a minor food-fight breaking out – Harry does everyone's washing up while Louis hobbles off to shower, and when he gets back to his room Louis is lying on his bed, Harry's laptop on his chest and wearing some of his clothes, his dirty football kit on a pile on his bag in the corner. Harry shuts the door quietly behind him, picking the laptop up off his chest and depositing on the desk.
"Oi," Louis protests feebly, before Harry settles over his hips, grabbing his wrists and holding them up beside his head. Louis' expression softens as Harry leans down to nose along his jaw, peppering little kisses along his neck before brushing their lips against one another.
"Hello," Louis murmurs, as Harry flicks his tongue out to touch his. Harry kisses him thoroughly, teasing his mouth open before replying.
"He's such a twat."
"He's-"
"No," Harry says forcibly, shushing him with a kiss. "Don't excuse him. He had his chance. He's got no reason to be pissed off with you."
Louis is silent for a moment, before slowly nodding his head, eyes locking with Harry's. "Yeah. You're right, I guess. I just, like. Know what it's like to be angry with yourself, that's all."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to take on his problems. I don't want you always thinking about him, 'cos you're mine. All mine, baby," he says, lips smacking as he kisses him again, and again. "Want you to forget all about him."
"Already done," Louis replies, breath hitching as Harry moves back to his neck, sucking hard. He feels Louis strain against his hands and so he loosens his grip a little, but oddly he doesn't seem to want to move after that, hip grinding up in slow circles as Harry attacks his neck, making sure he'll have a nice bruise for days.
"How's your knee?" Harry asks, sitting up and shifting so he's sitting in between Louis' spread legs, admiring his work. Louis is lax and pliant where he's lying flat on the bed, his half-hard cock fat in a pair of Harry's old grey joggers, arms still up by his head.
"Hurts a bit," Louis says, as Harry gently lifts his knee up to face level, kissing it through the fabric. "Can think of something that would make it feel better."
"I think I know what you mean," Harry murmurs, settling back over Louis and pushing his – well, Harry's – t-shirt up and over his head, sucking wet kisses down the slight fuzz of his chest and stopping at his nipple, tongue just brushing one and making Louis hiss and buck his hips. When he closes his lips over it and sucks, Louis lets out a low whine that seems to take him by surprise, slapping a hand over his mouth to shut himself up. Harry grins against his skin, hands roaming up and down his sides before teasingly coming to rest with his fingers hooked in the elastic of his joggers. He's not wearing any underwear, and Harry's cock twitches at the thought.
"Off," Louis says quietly, and Harry doesn't know what it is but there's something about tonight that's different to how things usually are, with Louis sitting back and letting Harry do what he wants. He pulls the joggers down, carefully lifting Louis' legs and pulling them off each foot before settling down over him again, deliberately ignoring his cock where it's resting flushed and hard on his stomach. Instead he sucks little bruises around his stomach as Louis wriggles a little underneath him, hips restless as he searches for friction.
"Harry," Louis breathes, hand fisting in the collar of his t-shirt, "take this off, not fair-"
He grins, going lax as Louis pulls his shirt a little awkwardly off his back, flinging it aside with the rest of Louis' clothes. This time he goes back up to kiss him, twining their fingers together and pushing this hands back onto the pillow by his head.
"What do you want?" he murmurs, brushing their noses, lips millimetres apart. He can hardly breathe with how beautiful Louis looks, hair damp and flat across his forehead, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, hips rocking needily under him. Louis' eyelids flutter shut when he kisses the corner of his mouth, adding, "Tell me, Lou. I'll do whatever you want."
"Anything. I don't care. Anything – something," Louis says on a shaky breath, as Harry latches onto his bottom lip and sucks gently.
"Tell me." Louis shudders bodily as Harry wedges his jean-clad crotch against Louis'. He watches as Louis' tongue flits out and wets his lips.
"You can say no," he says, barely more than a whisper. "I wouldn't care, it's fine, it's just – ever since, do you remember, ever since we were out that night and I got you to come, right there, just talking about eating someone out, I-" He stops himself, flushed all the way down his cheeks to his chest. Harry's heartbeat picks up at the thought.
"You want me to eat you out?" he says, their hot breath mingling. Louis just looks at him, before nodding the tiniest fraction. The grin spreads slowly over Harry's face, squeezing Louis' hands tighter as he kisses him again, teeth grazing Louis' lip as he rocks down against him, feeling the warm wetness of his leaking cock smear over his happy trail. "Roll over, then," he purrs in his ear, and Louis actually gasps, cock twitching where it's trapped between them. Harry only relinquishes his hands while he repositions himself, pushing the duvet back so Louis is lying face-down on the sheets, whiteknuckling the sheets already, hips thrusting shallowly against the bed as Harry sucks soft kisses into his sides, the base of his spine, over his kidneys, before running his hands all the way over the swell of his arse, thumbs coming to rest in the cleft between buttock and thigh.
"Oh my god," Louis whimpers shakily, as Harry nudges Louis' thighs apart, spreading him before licking a tentative stripe over his hole: Louis gasps and buries his head in the pillow, legs falling open wider as Harry goes in again, emboldened, swirling his tongue around before breaching, just a little, making Louis sob emptily and rut down against the bed. He's so hard at the thought and sight and sound of what he's doing to Louis he could probably come with just a well angled rub against his crotch, but instead he tries to ignore it, focussing just on Louis. He flattens his tongue, spreading him a little more before pushing his tongue in again, just admiring the soft, gorgeous sounds dropping from Louis' lips as he tries to get in deeper. It's, like – Harry is game for a lot of things, and this is definitely one of them, and it's not like it's something he's never thought about over his three months of endless pining and wanking, but the weird thing is that it's not weird. Louis tastes like soap and sweat and musk and Harry can't help but wonder if Louis will let him do this to him all the time, make him moan and gasp all pretty like this, clutching at the sheets and arching his spine and burying his face in the pillow.
He's just about to pull off and ask if Louis wants him to touch him, jaw aching a little from the angle and slick with spit, when he feels his hips stutter and he lets out a shaky breath, and Harry knows he's just come. He finishes up with soft kisses up his spine, rubbing his hands over the muscles of his back; it's almost as if he can feel the tension leaching out of them, and so he presses a last lingering kiss in between his shoulderblades, lightly kneading at his shoulders. Louis is flushed and pleased, hair sticking to his forehead and eyes glassy as he turns his head on the pillow, meeting Harry's gaze.
"Wow," he breathes. Harry noses at the soft hair at the back of his neck, one hand reaching down to palm his aching cock before Louis slurs, "D'you want to fuck me?"
"Don't think I'd last," Harry says honestly, hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans and finally freeing himself. Louis lifts himself up on his folded arms, glancing back at him as he starts hurriedly jerking himself off.
"Come on me, yeah?" he says, flexing his back like an invitation, and Harry gasps and stutters and doesn't even have time to argue as his orgasm hits him like a bus, punching out his solar plexus as he shoots up Louis' back. He grins and flops back down onto his arms, Harry's heart hammering in his throat as he chokes out a laugh.
"Sorry," he says, for once a little embarrassed. "You got me all – worked up, and you've just showered-"
"Guess you're going to have to clean me up, then," Louis murmurs, closing his eyes. "Oh, and change the sheets, I'm not sleeping in the wet patch."
Harry, still a little dazed from the orgasm, obediently gets up and fetches some of his facial wipes – Gemma's advice for his spots (it isn't working) – to wipe Louis off. It's only half seven but he figures a nap won't do anyone any harm, so he shucks off his jeans and climbs into bed behind Louis, wet patch and all, burying his face in the back of his head and breathing him in.
"I'm really ridiculously in love with you," Louis says, even though Harry had been sure he was asleep. "In case, you know. There was any doubt."
Harry kisses the back of his neck and tangles their hands together, knuckles resting on Louis' stomach.
"No doubt. I love you so much."
"Mark is nothing to worry about, you know," he says after a while. Harry frowns, kissing him again.
"Why'd you say that now?"
"I've, like. Maybe been talking to him a bit recently." Harry's heart sinks, and Louis pinches the thin skin between his thumb and forefinger in remonstration. "Hey. Don't be like that. It's just that after we saw him at the library, he looked so down, I thought it would help to talk. But he was always holding back, trying to get me to come and see him at his flat. Like I was going to fall for that one." There's a little pause before he adds, "That was why he took me out at training today, I think. He was drunk Friday night and text me saying he wanted to fuck me. Well, his spelling was a bit shite but I think I got the picture. I just sent him a long Facebook message saying why he needed to stop but I'd always be here if he wanted to chat as friends and...yeah."
Harry's quiet for a while, just breathing in Louis, his warmth and his smell, trying not to be annoyed and to understand that Louis is just being Louis. Being there for people. He's trying very hard not to be jealous and not to ruin things, because even if he's maybe not sure he wants to be a lawyer, there is one thing he's sure he'll keep hold of forever: this boy in his bed, the heavy warmth of his body as he sleeps next to him, the curve of his eyelashes against his cheekbones and the way he clings to his hand even when he's in his deepest sleep.
"That was a shitty thing for him to do," he says, heart thumping hard as he squeezes Louis' hand. "But, y'know. You're a good person for trying to help him."
"Thanks for understanding," Louis says quietly, squeezing his hand back. He shuffles around a bit so he can lean back and give Harry a soft, gentle kiss, and Harry lets it linger before snuggling back down next to him, Louis' cold feet pressed to his calves, his warm torso enveloped in Harry's arms.
He's just closing his eyes when there's an officious knock on the door.
"Who's that?" Louis murmurs. Harry cranes his neck in the direction of the door, and repeats Louis' words a little louder. All that happens is that there's another knock.
"Sounds serious," Harry says, flicking the light on and only putting his jeans on when Louis grabs his wrist and hisses clothes, Harry, not everyone is as in love with you dick as I am. He opens the door to find a dark-haired man standing there with a pleasantly blank expression on his face.
"Can I help you?" Harry says, rubbing his eyes.
"Hi, yeah. Harry, right? Not sure we've officially met. Nice to meet you," the man says, smiling and holding his hand out. Warily, Harry shakes it.
"Nice to meet you too, er-"
"Jaymi. Hi. I live in the room next to you."
"You're Mystery Dave?" Harry says, before he can stop himself, clapping a hand over his mouth as he does. Jaymi just laughs at him.
"Yeah, one and only. Sorry I haven't been around here much. My boyfriend's got a flat in town, y'know, it's just easier." Harry is only capable of staring blankly at him. Jaymi coughs and rocks forward on the balls of his feet. "Um, anyway, just wanted to say – like, obviously, I'm really happy you and Louis worked things out over Christmas but all the sex you're having is kind of distracting? I know, I know, it sucks having thin walls, but the thing is, my desk is right next to your bed, and, well, when I'm trying to work...you get my drift?"
Harry nods slowly. "Yeah...sorry about that," he says, after an age. Jaymi grins.
"Cool. Well, as long as we understand each other. I'm only here Tuesday and Wednesday nights because that's when Olly works nights. So, you know, the rest of the time, go crazy."
"Right," Harry says, still feeling weird. Jaymi grins at him, starting to turn and leave before apparently remembering something and coming rushing back.
"Oh! One more thing. Thin walls and that, can't help but hear things...good luck with that karaoke thing, I used to listen to your show last semester, your mate Ed is absolutely brilliant. And when you went through that little depressing music phase at the end of last semester I could hear you belting them out. You've got a great voice, mate," he says with a wink, before giving a little wave and disappearing back to his room. Harry dumbly lets the door fall shut, turning back to an inquisitive Louis, who's sitting upright in bed with the most amused expression on his face.
"Well," he says eventually, with a mischievous grin on his face, "if even Mystery Dave thinks you've got a chance with this thing, I'm definitelycoming along to watch."
The simple fact is, when Harry had agreed to go and sing a karaoke song with a couple of his mates for a laugh, he really hadn't anticipated then being thrown into what is apparently a regional pub competition, where people travel from all across the North West to participate. When they get to the pub on the Saturday night of the next round Harry has to stop and take it all in a moment: he's never seen a pub so busy, people of all ages milling about and carrying instruments and talking so loudly he can't even hear the music.
Ed looks paler than usual, which probably shouldn't be physically possible. "Ah. It's a bit of a big one, ain't it?"
"Fucking awesome all the same," Niall says, from Harry's other side, beaming from ear-to-ear with his guitar slung over his back. He looks overawed but not in the slightest bit nervous.
"When you said karaoke," Louis says slowly, hands light on Harry's hips as he guides him through the crowds, "I sort of imagined a half-empty pub with the only song choices being Power Ballads of the Nineties and some poor-quality synth backing track."
"Yeah," Harry says, suddenly feeling very sick. "Me too, kinda. There weren't this many people here last time."
"Guess this is why the prize is five grand," Josh says, as they squeeze their way to the bar, getting a round of pints in and standing in a corner while they wait. There's a setlist up on the wall and Harry's stomach turns seeing that they're third on. This isn't even the semi finals, for fucks' sake. Not even the quarter finals, even. It's mental.
"You know," Josh says contemplatively, as they wait for the first name to be called, "since this is such a big thing, you reckon we should actually, like...practice for the next round? More than once a month?"
"You should be a band!" Louis says, necking his bottle of Carlsberg. "You know, you've got drums, guitar, guitar, singing-"
"No offence lads," Ed says, with a weak smile, "I'm alright on my own."
"Oh." Harry stares at the head on his pint as there's a little silence where he can almost hear the other two thinking.
"Actually," Niall says slowly, as the lights dim and a cheer goes up around the room, "that's not a bad idea, Louis."
"Except we'd need a bassist," Harry says, as Ed fiddles with his guitar strap, the first band taking to the stage.
"There are a couple on our course, decent lads," Niall says, fingers drumming on his sweaty pint glass. "I dunno, I mean if you're up for it, it'd mean we were, like, more together and since the competition is pretty tough-"
"I think it's a great idea," Louis says obnoxiously, grinning up at Harry. He shrugs, attempting to be nonchalant but really buzzing inside.
"Yeah. I mean, we could give it a go."
Niall's reply is lost as the first band starts up, and Harry feels an uncomfortable twist of nerves in his gut to see they're bloody good, actually, like proper professionals, and there they are, four students who were just meant to be having a laugh – except suddenly, Harry wants to win a lot. A lot. He wants to do this more than just for a gimmick.
He finishes his pint as the first two acts finish, concentrating very hard on not projectile vomiting all over the burly man in leather standing in front of him, but Louis has been holding his hand tight all night and leans up to give him a big hug just as they're called to go on.
"Go on, baby, smash it," Louis whispers in his ear, bright and beautiful as always. Harry swallows down his nerves, gives Louis a quick smudge of lips against his temple, and follows the three of them on stage.
It's the best thing he's ever done in his life.
To feel the entire packed pub cheering for them as they sing Champagne Supernova – pretty fucking well, actually, if Harry's being totally honest – sets Harry's veins on fire and it's made a thousand times better every time he catches Louis' eye in the back. It's all a bit of a blur and he feels slightly dizzy when they come off stage, but it's OK because Louis has bought them all shots in celebration – so many shots that he almost forgets what they're there for, busying giggling into Louis' ear, until Niall says, "Shit, are they announcing who's going through?"
Harry pulls back from Louis and tries to concentrate on what's happening on the stage – a man is calling out names, there are cheers and then – hang on, that can't be right, because the man is leaving the stage, and the conversation is starting up again and they didn't say their names.
"What?" he says, staring at them. Ed sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair.
"Fuck," he says, simply.
"We really should've researched this a bit better," Niall says gloomily, staring at his half-empty pint glass.
"I'm really really sorry," is Harry's only contribution, but Ed just laughs, shaking his head.
"Not your fault, guys. It was stupid idea anyway. Shouldn't have expected to have this handed to me on a platter."
"I think," Louis says, after a long pause, "we should all get really drunk."
After a quick misery text their housemates are waiting to meet them with hugs and plenty of alcohol at the student bar on campus; Harry's head's a little fuzzy as he stares at the line of shots on the bar, reaching for one as everyone else grabs theirs, forearms sticky from leaning on the bartop and not entirely sure if he's got any money left. "Here's to – here's to Ed's future susc- suscs- success," he says finally, slowly and carefully. "Despite tonight's, um, failure."
"Good to stay positive!" Jade says, as they down their shots: Harry's throat closes up at the bitter taste, but he's in the mood to get fuckedbecause of their failure and this is the most efficient way. By the time he's slammed his empty shot glass on the bar, a fresh new row has magically appeared and Jade's handing one over to him, Niall next to her like some kind of drunk, manic Irish pixie. Ed and Josh are in a booth on the other side of the bar, chatting with some guys they'd met at the karaoke night, and evidently not getting absolutely shitfaced like Harry and Niall. Obviously they handle failure a lot better.
"Oh, I've got a good one!" Jade says, and Harry slings an arm around her shoulders, squeezing hard and overcome by love for his lovely friends, who had rushed to the pub as soon as they'd found out they were knocked out of the competition, always ready to provide moral support and a willing drinking buddy for the night. "Here's to our new house! We're officially not homeless in second year from today!"
"What?" Harry says, holding off on the shot.
"We signed the papers today, didn't we?" she says, grinning. "We've got a house, Harry, come on, do your shot!"
"Housemates forever!" Niall says joyfully, clinking shot glasses with Harry so most of it slops over his hand, as they down it in one. The campus pub is only half-full on this Saturday evening in February, and it's not even ten o'clock but they're already smashed: Louis is giggling on Liam, Jesy already slumped in an armchair looking flushed and unfocussed. Well, they deserve it, Harry thinks muzzily: they spent the best part of the last week traipsing around dingy student houses before finally deciding on the one, The One, that they'll all be moving into on July 1st. If Harry passes all his exams, that is, but that's something to worry about another day. Today, he just wants to get really drunk.
"Oi, oi, oi. Harry. C'mere." It's Perrie, tugging violently on his arm so he's forced away from the group and into a little huddle with her and Zayn. He's never really seen Zayn properly drunk but he looks halfway there right now, grinning and grabbing Harry in a surprisingly painful headlock.
"Ow," he says, as Perrie pinches his cheeks.
"Why didn't you tell us you were singing at that karaoke thing tonight? Louis said you were incredible, I wish we could've been there!" she remonstrates, forcefully jabbing him on the sternum as Zayn nods imperiously above him, arm still tight around Harry's windpipe. Harry chokes a little and sends Louis pitiful help me eyes. He's not looking, instead admiring Liam's biceps. What a bloody useless boyfriend he is.
"He said you were incredible," Zayn echoes gravely.
"It was only – a little thing, and anyway, we lost, so-" Harry says, finally managing to loosen Zayn's hold around his throat. "You didn't miss much."
"But what about the-" Perrie leans in and comically mimes "-band?" Harry blanches.
"What-"
"Loueh told me. About you and Niall and Josh, yeah? Int it great?" Zayn says. He gets extra Bradford-y when he's drunk, Harry decides. He slumps, defeated, in Zayn's grip.
"Was meant to be a secret," he mumbles, but Zayn's shaking his head.
"No, no, no, it's great! Never known anyone in a band before. Reckon it's pretty cool." Harry makes a face, but secretly he's loving it, and Zayn isn't about to stop in any case. "Maybe you'll be the next winners of that thing, yeah? I'll be able to tell all me mates that that prick on the radio's one of me best friends!"
"Blaaaargh," Harry says, as Zayn kisses him on the cheek and then Perrie kisses him on the mouth. "You're so weird, both of you, yuck."
"We wuv you," Perrie says, before kissing him again, and he's just in the middle of pretending to be violently sick on the floor when a tall, dark, handsome shape materialises in front of him.
"Oh. Mark," Harry says, terrified by the determined expression on his face.
"All right, bro, simmer down, yeah, step back, will ya?" Zayn says, bravely stepping in between Harry and the tall hunk of handsome in front of him, but Mark just holds his hands up.
"I promise, I'm not here to cause trouble. Can I talk to Harry a minute?"
"Loueh loves him," Zayn says, pointing a warning finger at him. "And he loves Loueh. So don't get any ideas."
"It's all right, Zayn, it's fine," Harry mumbles, just as Perrie grabs Zayn's hand and leads him outside, shaking his cigarettes at him. That leaves just Harry and Mark. He stares him down.
"I'm really, really sorry, Harry," Mark says, which is exactly the opposite of what Harry had been expecting.
"What?"
"The way I've been acting – it's stupid, and childish. I've been in a really bad place, personally, but that's no excuse, and I just-" Mark sighs, shaking his head at himself. "Just wanted to say I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I'm still not all there, you know, figuring stuff out, but I think a good place to start would be apologising for all the shit I did."
"You should apologise to Louis, then," Harry blurts out. Idiot, the very small sober part of his brain chastises him. Mark, to his credit, just nods solemnly.
"I'm just about to. But I thought you and I should have a chat first. So you understand that I'm not coming from a place of...danger." Mark gives him a small, wobbly smile. "I fucked it up. I can see that now. But he's obviously happier now than he ever was with me. So, you know. C'est la vie, and all that."
"I don't understand why you're quoting B*witched at me," Harry says slowly, "but apology accepted. You're all right, I guess. Just leave my boyfriend alone in future."
"Sure." Mark claps a hand on Harry's shoulder, reaching the other out for Harry to shake. "Clean slate?"
"Yeah, sure. Sure," Harry says, shaking his hand before watching him walk over to Louis, wondering briefly if he's just been scammed and Mark's about to whisk Louis off for a romantic vacation. But the conversation isn't long, and Louis has Liam with one arm stretched protectively around his narrow shoulders, warding off any funny business.
Niall brings him a Jagerbomb while he's watching, and by the time he's downed it Mark has hugged Louis and wandered off. He only realises he's staring when Louis approaches him, grabbing his hand, flushed and grinning.
"Dance!"
"What did Mark say?" Harry says, because suddenly the music has got loud and Louis' arm is snaking around his waist.
"Apologised for being a dick. Which was a long time coming. He said he talked to you. Well done for not punching him," Louis murmurs, pressing himself up against him and kissing him softly. Harry wraps his arms around him, smiling.
"I am a great person, aren't I?"
"The best," Louis says, kissing him again, before leaning up on his tiptoes and whispering in his ear, "So proud of you."
"I'll be honest, I've never been in a fistfight before so-"
"Not that," Louis says, huffing a laugh. "You know. For tonight, and the band thing."
"That you told Zayn and Perrie about, you mean?" Louis frowns at Harry's disappointed expression. "I didn't want it to be a big deal, it's just us, like...jamming, you know? It's nothing serious."
"Oi!" Louis protests: Harry grabs him tighter, squeezing him so he has no choice but to remain entirely pressed against Harry's torso. "I was just proud of you. Had to tell someone."
"Yeah, well." Harry's drunk and his head is swimming with possibilities and love for his boy and his friends, fingertips tingling. "It's on you if it all turns out shit and we fall out over creative differences. House situation might be awkward next year."
"I accept full responsibility for whatever happens," Louis says, not slurring his words at all, tightening his arms around Harry's waist. "I love you, you know. So much."
"Really?" Harry says, because he's in the mood for some sass, quirking his lips up at Louis' falsely-affronted expression. "That's a bit awkward. I'm not too fond of you, myself."
"Cheeky bastard," Louis says, slurping hard at his drink. "I'll just go find someone else to blow in the toilets later, shall I?"
"I hadn't finished," Harry says, stumbling a little as he sticks his leg out to stop Louis escaping, leaning down so he can speak directly in Louis' ear over the pounding of the music. "Not much fond of your smile. Or your laugh. Or the way you cackle when you're caught by something funny and you're not prepared. Your gorgeous body." He presses a lingering kiss to the side of his head, feeling Louis' fingers dig into his back slightly, the lip of his glass pressing into Harry's chest as he pulls them closer together. "Not at all fond of you, nope."
"You're such a sap, honestly," Louis says eventually, but he gets a long kiss out of it, which is only interrupted by Louis spilling his drink over both of them when Harry gets a bit too boisterous and grabs his bum with both hands to lift him up. They kiss for a little while, and Harry's sure people are staring because they're the only people on the dancefloor so early but he doesn't care, not when Louis is murmuring I love youbetween every kiss, breathing in each other's sticky-sweet, alcohol-spiked air.
"Oh!" Louis shouts suddenly, as the song changes and the jangling first bars of Mr Brightside start up on the sound system. "My favourite song, c'mon, we're having a dance!" he adds, and Harry doesn't even have time to process what's going on as Louis grabs his hand and drags him to the dance floor proper.
"I'm coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine," he shouts out, grabbing Harry's hand with his free one and slurping at his drink with the other. "Gotta gotta be down because I want it all-"
Harry lets him twirl him as he joins in. "It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss-"
"It was only a kiss!" Louis yells happily, and Harry grins as Louis spins him around, giddy with the alcohol and the buzz of everything. He doesn't know what's coming, and he knows his degree is going to get harder and he's going to have to make up his mind about his life sometime soon, but for now, dancing on an empty dancefloor with his boyfriend holding his hand and his best friends in the world waiting at the bar, almost completely drunk off his face but safe in the knowledge he'll be going to sleep in the arms of someone he loves – well, he thinks that if this all started with just a drunken kiss in the dark in a disappointing red brick building, he couldn't be happier with how it's all turned out.