hello all. i'm aware it's only tuesday but tomorrow night i'll probably be busy trying to get some make-up work done and thursday i have violin. i had to leave school today after first period and i was so exhausted that i slept from like ten to two on and off... when i was in the nurse's office i'm pretty sure i was awake for all of five minutes (and i was down there for over an hour, but i kept snapping back awake at random moments idek) so yes, nights of not being able to fall asleep until the early morning hours have definitely started to catch up with me. but enough of that, you probably don't want to hear about my personal life.
i also didn't update on saturday because i forgot, oops. baby lips is on hold for a bit while i work on finishing some things up, i can't say exactly when i'll post the next chapter for that.
ALSO I HAVE A HUGE FAVOR TO ASK OF YOU buT if you read lots of fanfictions you've probably heard of the 1D Bromance Awards and I just found out they're doing a holiday 2014 one and, like, I don't know if I'm allowed to nominate my own story but I really want to enter so if someone could please help me out by nominating me that'd be a w e s o m e. the book that has all the info posted is in my favourites reading list and tbh even if i lost completely i'd like die if someone nominated me
idk why i picture niall in a brick house i jusT
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Louis almost forgets to turn onto Niall's street in his panicked state of mind, so he swerves just a half a second too late; he hits a mailbox. Making a note to himself to stop by on his way back and apologize, he continues to speed down the road until he comes to a familiar little brick house. Inconspicuous enough, Louis supposes, but Harry wasn't lying when he said Niall wasn't home. His car isn't parked in the driveway and the garage door itself is wide open, revealing an empty interior aside from the small cluster of logs in the corner.
He scrambles out of his seat, barely managing to not close his entire hand in his door as he rushes to close and lock it behind him. His jacket begins to slide off his shoulders as he jogs to the front door, physically winded as he pounds thrice on the hard wood. There's a light on inside, Louis can see it through the small glass window at the top of the door, but even standing on his tip-toes he can't see inside of it. He counts to ten before he knocks again.
The knob twists slowly, door creaking as it slowly gives way to a frightened pair of green eyes and pale, slender fingers. "H-hi."
A wave of longing crashes into Louis' chest as his own hand reaches out to rest over Harry's, a cool breath of air escaping his pursed lips as he finally realizes that he's quite literally so grateful to see Harry that he's rendered speechless. Until Harry opens the door a bit more, that is, grabbing Louis by the wrist and pulling him inside.
It's warm and smells like cinnamon in the house, Louis realizes this as he shrugs the already half-way off jacket from his shoulders and lets it fall carelessly to the floor. Louis rubs his frozen fingers on the denim of his jeans; he hadn't taken notice of just how cold he was until Harry was stood in front of him, mug of steaming liquid in hand with an unreadable expression printed on his face.
"Tea," Harry states, holding the mug toward Louis. "For you."
Louis peeks at it, trying to mask his obvious surprise and gratefulness behind a look of suspicion. "Two packets of sweetener-"
"No cream," the other boy confirms, pushing the hot object into Louis' hands. Louis takes a sip sheepishly, ignoring the way it warms his fingertips and soothes his hoarse throat. Harry's stare lingers for a second more before he turns and strides down the hallway, and Louis finds himself following without a second thought.
"Niall has a really nice place," Louis comments absentmindedly, tracing over a framed picture of what appears to be Niall and a woman who looks strangely similar to him, but Louis knows for a fact that it's not his mother. An aunt, possibly? Cousin?
"Well, it's not like you've never been here before." Harry has his back turned to Louis, so he doesn't see the sour look Louis shoots at him in response as he stirs his tea a bit more with his pointer finger. "Listen... Louis-"
"I miss you." Pathetic. Louis wants to smack himself, but he sets his tea down on the counter-top - when they arrived in the kitchen, Louis isn't sure - and folds his hands behind his back as he stares at the floor. "I miss you a lot."
Harry is silent for a few seconds, and the only thing Louis can focus on is how hard his heart is pounding in his chest. "I... miss you too, Lou."
"Then why didn't you ever call?" Louis toes at the tile, wincing at the crack in his tone as he speaks as nonchalantly as possible. "Y'know, I was, like. I was only a phone call away."
Harry makes that little noise that Louis hates: a mixture between a whimper and a grunt, Louis thinks, but it sounds so sad that it breaks Louis' heart just a little. "I guess I just didn't know what to say."
Louis glowers at the floor as if that will somehow make all of his problems better, but he knows Harry won't judge him too harshly when he starts to grumble to himself. "Yeah, well, I have too many things to say."
"Like what?" A hand pushes Louis' chin up, forcing him to look at Harry's expectant eyes and the little crease he gets in his forehead when he's concentrating. Louis wants to kiss it away, to kiss every wrinkle and line and imperfection of Harry's away, but then he realizes that Harry doesn't have any. He's like the sun, in a way, essential to Louis' productivity and being and happiness. Louis leans on Harry at the same time Harry's fingers lace through his own, and really, it's like a song the way they move together, chest to chest, heart to heart, nose to nose as they kiss. It really is. Louis never wants it to end, but Harry is pulling away much too quickly and shaking his head miserably. "No. This isn't right. I can't... we can't..."
"Yes we can," Louis presses. "We can do anything. You and I, Harry, we can get through anything. We've been through too much just to let it all go to shit like this, trust me, I know. I've had too much time to be thinking. I've had too many nights alone, too many people talking at me and too many days missing you. I know what I want and what I need and, well. I want to compromise with you. Make things better. Talk it out, not yell or hit or scream or... or do any of that stuff. Because I love you and I want to make this work. I know we can make this work but you can't leave, Harry, you can't run away from this." Louis pauses to wipe away a single tear that's started to slide down Harry's rosy cheek. "You can't run away from your feelings. They're the only thing that truly are no one's but your own."
"You were right when you called me selfish," Harry sniffs, "I'm terrible for you, Louis. I've messed up so many times and I just, the more I think about it the more I know you'd be better off without me."
"Harry Styles, you are not listening to me," Louis huffs in irritation, softening his tone at the shame that spreads over Harry's expression. "Never mind what I said. It was in the heat of the moment, baby, there's no one better for me than you."
"But I-"
"If you really don't like the way you are, change what you don't like. Not for me, but for you. Any steps you take have to be for you." Louis stares Harry directly in the eye, swallowing back tears of his own and wrapping his arms around Harry's neck. "As good as I know your intentions are, you saying you're leaving because you think I deserve better has got to be the most cliche and overused break-up line of all time."
Harry sniffs. "Second only to 'it's not you, it's me', right?"
"Hmm," Louis hums, twisting a curl around his finger. "They're basically the same thing, if you think about it."
"Yeah." Harry's not crying anymore. Louis is thankful. He doesn't really know where they stand right now but, like, when Harry goes to peck him on the cheek he doesn't shy away. "Bloody hell, what are we going to tell the fans? They're all expecting some sort of announcement."
Louis ponders over it for a moment before he responds. "What if... what if we used this opportunity to come out?"
Harry blanches. "Huh?"
"You know... tell the public about. Um. Us." Harry visibly pales, so Louis immediately stutters out an apology.
"No." Harry cuts him off. "No, don't apologize. We should. Yeah. Let's do it."
"Right now?"
"Right now."
A small smile creeps up on Louis, but he tries unnecessarily hard to fight it as he speaks. "Don't think this solves everything, Styles. You and I still have a lot to talk about, including your barbaric habit of trying to control my each and every move."
"Right, yeah, of course," Harry mumbles, but he's digging around in his pocket until he retrieves his own shiny mobile, and, Louis totally does not squeal a little on the inside five minutes later when he watches Harry press the 'post' button on his Instagram (the caption Harry had chosen was cheesy, Louis admits), he really doesn't. (He also doesn't cringe at the stupid, dazed look on his own face in the picture, but whatever).
I think I love him, kind of, a little, maybe a lot actually... you caught me.