He got drunk on New Year's. Like, really drunk. It happened so fast, kept chasing shot after shot (it didn't help that Matty and Barry kept challenging him to take more shots. He can't turn one down if he's already drunk), until he basically passed out in Matty's bedroom.
It was a blur of a night.
He'd woken up the next morning in his own bed, with a note from Louis saying that he hoped he wasn't going to be too sick, and that he should call when he could. He ended up very sick.
That's all he wants to think about from New Year's. Thinking back on it still makes him nauseous.
But the kiss he'd sneakily received from Louis in the bathroom doesn't exactly make him nauseous. Quite the opposite, actually.
And then, out of the blue, his Mum asked about Jenny. Asked if she could come over to the house for dinner, to which he fumbled around for a reply. She then simply nodded as if something was confirmed for her, and then said he could talk to her when he's ready. He isn't stupid; she thinks they broke up and he's having a hard time talking about it. It's the best scenario to go with—whichever idea causes her to not talk about it is a win in his book.
A thought that always freaks him out—one that's occurring more and more as of late—is the way time ticks by so quickly. It was just Christmas, and it was just New Year's, but now it's all passed. These things in his life that take forever to build up and reach, always are the most fleeting.
It's beginning to feel that way with Louis.
Not in a bad way, either, just in a way that he can't believe he's actually reached it. So much time was spent concealing emotions and longing for touches, and now they're tangible. They're real. Louis' his boyfriend, and they make-out all the time, and it's wonderful. It feels like it happened so fast—yet so slow—all at the same time. He doesn't want to think about what comes next, whether it's good or bad, because a part of him will always wonder if time will fuck it up. He just wants to live in the now, as fleeting as it may be.
It also feels like he's on the cusp of something amazing or terrible. It's like he's waiting for a shoe to drop, one that will change his life or destroy it. He's not quite sure why he's feeling this way—possibly because so much drama has circled around his life that it's strange to not have it anymore. Surely that's it. And he's also looking into universities, which is a task far harder than he'd envisioned. The thing about music degrees, or pursuing it, is that one must be able to read it. Or play in a school band. Harry doesn't know either of those things, so what could he possibly do? What life-altering decision does he go with?
And what does he do the day it approaches? Do he and Louis stay together despite the distance, or do they...separate? It's a thought Harry doesn't want to think about, so he shakes his head and shoves his school work away from him—anything to put distance between what's causing those thoughts.
Maybe he will take Gemma's offer on hanging out with her friends tonight. He just needs to let loose. Even if the thought of alcohol still makes him nauseous.
"So, is that a yes?" Gemma asked once Harry walked over to her room to voice his thoughts.
He still wasn't sure. A part of him wants to go to keep an eye on Gemma.
"It's not a no," he mutters. "I'll keep thinking about it."
"It's a yes," she says with a roll of her eyes. He can't help but laugh. "You can invite Liam and Niall if you wanted to."
Harry pursed his lips for a second. That actually might make things more fun. "I'll, uh, call them." He left her room to head downstairs to get to the rotary, where he dialed Niall's number by memory and patiently waited for someone to pick up. He's sure Niall would be up for it.
"Hello?" Mrs. Horan answers.
"Hi, it's Harry! Is Niall there?"
"I'll go fetch him, Harry," she replies.
He leans against the wall, telephone pressed to his ear, as he waits for Niall.
"Harry!" he loudly says from the other line.
Harry jumps out of surprise and laughs. "Hey, Niall. I was calling because there's a party Gemma and I were going to, and I wanted to know if you'd like to come."
"You know I'm always up for a party," Niall happily says. He sounds like he's smiling. "Where at?"
"Matty and Barry's. Remember them? From the party we threw at your house?"
"Yeah, yeah. All right. Time?"
"Probably around ten. Want us to pick you up? I'll call Liam to see what he says."
"Sounds like a plan, mate. See you then!"
He bids him farewell, hangs up, picks the handset back up, and then dials Liam's number. He hums to himself as the telephone rings, and waits for an answer.
"Hello?"
"Liam!" Harry happily greets. "Want to go to a party tonight with Niall and me?"
"Uh, sure. Where's it at?"
"I'll pick you up around ten. It's at Matty and Barry's."
"All right, I'll be ready!"
Harry hangs up the telephone and practically skips up the stairs out of happiness. He may not be drinking tonight (a driver's duty), but he can't wait to hang out with his mates and avoid his thoughts for as long as he can. A good distraction is always healthy.
———
"Fuck yeah!" Niall shouts as soon as he reaches the car. He slams the door behind him closed and leans between Gemma and Harry with a wide grin. "Are we ready, lads?"
Gemma laughs and looks at him with a smile. "I'm a lad?"
Niall nods reaches out to ruffle her perfectly curled hair. "Definitely."
She settles back into her seat and hums happily to herself. Harry silently drives to Liam's house with a feeling of content deep in his chest. It almost feels fuzzy—as strange as it sounds—and warm. The two of them continued to talk back and forth, conversation ranging from their favorite alcoholic beverages, to the stupid thing Niall had just done that morning. He thinks he said something about dipping Tracey's toothbrush into the toilet after she mouthed off at him, but Harry can't be sure. He'd rather not listen in on that.
He pulled off the side of the road once he reached Liam's house, to which he was already awaiting with a large coat wrapped around his body. Niall instantly scooted over to allow Liam easier access into the vehicle.
"Greetings!" Liam immediately says.
Harry steps on it, speeding off to Matty and Barry's house as the three others talk amongst themselves. He's not sure why it'd never been the four of them before, going out to parties or just hanging out. It's nice to not worry about his sister for a change, to worry where she's disappeared to for the night and if she's truly okay. It's just a good fit.
And he can't wait to be with her good friends, who are easy to be around, and are like him. Matty and Barry don't know about him, obviously, but it's still nice to be around them to see he and Louis aren't alone in it. There are others like them.
"Mum said I can't be out past one," Liam says. Niall groans.
"Not a problem. I wasn't playing on staying later than that anyway," Harry responds.
"Losers," Niall says. Gemma nods. "Looks like I'll be catching a ride back with someone else."
Harry rolls his eyes. "No, we stick together. I'm the responsible one tonight, so what I say goes!"
"Yes, mum," says Niall with a snort.
———
It was already packed full of people when they arrived. He'd parked at the end of the drive and couldn't quite understand how Matty and Barry knew so many people to throw these parties. Their home wasn't huge or anything, just an average two bedroom that they were renting out for the time being. They said their landlord thought they were just very good university friends, which had Harry laughing. Then frowning. Then slightly spiraling for a bit, but then he was okay. He knows not everyone is accepting—even landlords, who have a right to turn anyone away. It's just sad to think about.
So, that's exactly the reason he came out tonight. He's tired of feeling sad about these inconvenient thoughts that like to pop up and bring down his mood entirely, and for that to calm down, he needs to smoke. He wants to, more like. He won't have a drop of alcohol since he's the one driving, but a few drags of Mary Jane should be fine. He won't get too high so he can stay alert, but fuck, he just wants to calm down.
The three others veer off into the kitchen, while Harry makes for the couch. It's obvious and predictable that's where everyone was—good seating is hard to come by at a packed party, so they'd always occupy the couch; no matter where they're at.
"Harry, babe!" Matty says, his hair looking exceptionally long this evening. His eyes were red and his cheeks pink. "Glad you could make it. Is Gem-Gem here?"
Harry nods and smiles at Cleo when she scoots over on the love-seat to make room for him. She was curling up against Lea, who'd thrown her arm around her.
"They're getting a drink," he answers.
"They?" Barry asks, a beer in his hand and a doobie in the other.
"Niall and Liam. I asked if they could come. They're my best mates."
"Oh, Harry," a familiar voice calls out. Soft and kind. "It's been too long!"
"Jenny," he says with a smile. She's wearing a mini-dress with long sleeves, the color a sweet pink with delicate flowers patterned throughout it. She walks over and kisses his cheek, then sits beside him on the armrest. "How've you been?"
"Lovely, thank you," she replies. Her arm is thrown over his shoulder and he can't help but smile happily.
He does miss her. She was the only one that ever talked about poetry and passions, all while being so passionate. It was lovely.
"I can't believe you two are still this close after a break-up. Strange," Matty says with squinted eyes.
"Break-up?"
Harry turns his head to find Liam standing behind him, a beer in his hand, and a confused look on his face. Niall and Gemma emerge just seconds later, both of them sipping their drinks, while Liam steps closer to him.
"You two broke up?"
Harry nods. Jenny nods. "Yeah. Recently." He coughs and he feels Jenny's arm move away from his shoulder.
"Oh," he says with a nod.
"Come on, find a seat. Plenty of room," Barry says, motioning to the few extra chairs.
Zayn emerges from the hallway, his signature leather jacket on, and his hair slicked up out of his eyes. He pats his hands on his jeans as if they were wet (he must have come from the bathroom), and his eyes sweep over the people who'd just arrived. His eyes find Liam's not a moment later and he nods, then moves to sit on the floor beside the couch, his back pressing against it.
"Well, are you all right?" Liam asks as he sits in the available chair. Coincidentally, it's next to Zayn.
He can't help but smile. It's a bit awkward to fake a relationship, pretend it ended, all while having the lady it happened with right beside him. He nods nonetheless. "Yeah, I am. We decided we're better as—" he cuts himself off to look up at her. She smiles down at him. "As friends."
Niall and Gemma finally take their seats. He sat in a chair at the other end of the love-seat, by Lea and Cleo, and Gemma took a seat that was empty by Liam.
"Want a drag?" asks Cleo.
Harry nods and grabs the rolled-up blunt from her long, thin fingers, and then places it between his lips. He inhales it deeply, pulls it away, holds it in his lungs, before exhaling the white smoke out. He repeats this action a few times before giving it back and settling against the couch more comfortably. He likes letting his mind fog over with his eyes shut, with conversation and music surrounding him. The stuff always hits him fast since he doesn't smoke often, which is something he's sort of grateful for.
He took a few more hits once another one was passed over, and then held it out for whoever wanted it. When he finally opened his eyes and looked around, he only noticed the happy faces of friends that enjoyed being together. He wonders why Matty and Barry throw huge parties if they don't even interact with others—wouldn't it be simpler to just hang out with their close group? Or do they like being around strangers? Maybe, since they're not afraid to be themselves, they like to show it off in any way they can.
He's still yet to figure them out.
Niall's downed a few shots at this point, his cheeks a deep red that made his blue eyes stand out. He thinks Gemma was making it a game and trying to out-drink him, which Niall was taking far too seriously.
And then there's Liam, who was actually talking to Zayn. He was still sitting on the floor, but his eyes were on Liam and not leaving his face as he spoke. He looked a lot more kind—more open, perhaps. His face appeared relaxed and almost as if it'd be easy for him to smile, which is the complete opposite of Zayn Malik. He thinks he might actually have a strong crush on Liam. Poor, oblivious Liam. With his left leg awkwardly shaking, and his right hand nervously waving around as he spoke.
Was he that obvious with Louis?
Matty and Barry seemed to notice, too, with nudging and smiling, a finger motioning between the two humorously. They whispered amongst themselves and otherwise kept it secretive, but sometimes Matty couldn't quite help his gestures and obvious looks. They knew. They probably knew with him, too.
"Harry, you all right over there?"
He flicks his eyes over to his sister and he begins to smile. "Perfect."
She laughs, and the next thing he knows, she and Niall are disappearing together for more drinks. He should've known the two of them would get hammered; they love a good party.
"Oh, damn," he hears Liam mutter.
"Oh, you should probably get that cleaned," Zayn says. "Before it stains. Here, I can help."
His eyes lazily follow their movements. Liam spilt his drink on his trousers, and Zayn just so happened to jump at the opportunity to help. He supposes he's just being a good mate, though. Soon they're both leaving and walking down the hall to get him cleaned up, leaving Harry alone with the rest of the gang and a comfy couch he could probably go to sleep on.
"So, how are you and Louis?" Jenny quietly asks now that mostly everyone has cleared out.
He smiles at the mention of his boyfriend's name. "We're fantastic. He's my boyfriend, you know."
She laughs at his side and pats his head. "That's wonderful! I'm glad you two are working out. I'm glad you're happy."
"Are you happy?" he questions.
She's silent for a moment. He takes this time to finally look up at her, but she's only looking down at the cup in her hand with an unreadable look.
"I'm fine," she says. "Still not over what happened to Gemma and Steve. He's, like, banned from everything now. Can't see us. Can't come to our parties. He was so fucked up for that."
"I think Gemma's better," he whispers to her. His emotions were far too relaxed and content to pick up on any true sadness in her voice, but then again, maybe it just wasn't there. "I hope she is."
"She looks lighter," Jenny spoke. She then turned her head as if something caught her attention. Harry followed her eyes and found it was Niall and Gemma she was staring at; they were both laughing in between shots. "Happier."
"Ooh, who do we have here?"
Harry's eyes instantly snapped back. A small woman with blonde hair and a long-sleeved dress was drunkenly staring at him, swaying back and forth on her heels, and smiling widely. She was petite and cute, but in the most I-like-boys, Harry thought, kind of way as possible.
"You're handsome," she giggles out.
Harry looks behind himself, but no one was there. Was she talking about him?
"Uh, me?"
She laughs more, inches forward, and nearly falls over. "Yeah. Wanna dance?"
"I'm—I'm good, thank you," he softly says. Probably too softly over the music.
"Oh, come on. You're going to turn me down? Please? Just one dance!" Her hands folded together over her chest, begging, and he can't help but sigh.
"I'm not much of a dancer," he persists, though his voice didn't sound so convincing.
She grins. "I'll help you!" She reaches out for him and grabs his hands, and he can't really say no. He'll look like a dick if he did. Jenny's laughing beside him, and he almost starts laughing as well, but this drunk girl's grip was surprisingly tight as she helped pull him to his feet. "To the dance floor!" she loudly says.
Her fingers are tangled in his, hand thrown on her shoulder as she takes him to where everyone else was dancing. She then spun around and grinned widely, her hands guiding his around her waist, and hers resting around his neck. He couldn't quite tell if she was still that drunk, because it looked like she'd sobered up somehow. Maybe he's just high as fuck, but it made him feel weird. He's not sure if he likes it. But it's just a simple dance, so he should be fine.
"What's your name?" she asks. She somehow got closer to him, the distance between them almost nonexistent.
"Um, Harry. You?" he stiffly asks. Her thumbs rub over the back of his neck and, in the nicest way possible, he wishes to swat them away.
"Evelyn. I go by Evie," her soft voice says. She leans closer to him and rests her head by his shoulder, close to his neck. "I'm not gonna break, babe. You can touch me wherever you like."
Harry blinks and stops his swaying movements altogether. She looks up at him in that instant, her left hand slowly trailing down from his neck and over his chest. "I should get back," he says, forcing a smile, and attempting to step away.
She slightly digs her nails into the back of his neck. "We didn't even finish the song!"
He breathlessly searches for an excuse, but she somehow manages to get him to resume the dance, with her hands around his neck again, and his hands barely on her waist. He felt so awkward—like he was doing something wrong. He truthfully didn't want to dance with her, he just wanted to sit down with his mates and not care for a moment. It feels like his foggy mind has finally cleared up, and he knows those pesky, overthinking thoughts will return shortly.
"If you're scared about dancing in front of everyone," she says, lips scarily close over his ear. "We can surely find an empty room."
And she has the audacity and confidence to place a soft kiss on his neck.
He instantly detangles himself from her grip, a look of disgust and displeasure written all over his features as he wipes at the wet spot on his neck. She looks offended to have been declined by his actions, and before she can stomp off, she curses him and turns around with her hair flying around her, before leaving altogether. He can't help but shiver as if something vile had just happened. He feels...icky.
"Mate," Niall says. He comes from out of nowhere and throws an arm around his shoulder, eyes unable to stare directly into his own as he sways back and forth. Harry puts an arm around his waist so that he doesn't fall and take him down with him. "Were you into that? I fucking thought you and Louis were together," he cackles out, head thrown back, and Harry almost lets him fall.
His eyes are wide, his mouth hung open, and he can't form a response. There's nothing he can say. Does he laugh it off? Does he ask what he means by it? How does he fucking know?
Fuckfuckfuck.
"Niall, I—"
"Hang on." His tone switches to a more serious one, but then his face pales. "Gonna hurl." And with that, he's running to the nearest bathroom.
Harry feels like he could hurl, too.
———
"Niall," he spoke once he'd left the bathroom. They were the only ones in the hall so it left them with a little bit of privacy. "What did you meant by that?"
"By what?" he groans out, a frown etched onto his face. "I need more alcohol to replace what I've just thrown up. Balance."
Harry rolls his eyes and stops him from leaving. "Niall," he angrily spoke. He just needs to know what he knows! Drunk people are so fucking difficult.
"Oi, Harry, the fuck is it?" he huffs out.
"What do you know?" he questions, practically begging with his eyes to tell him.
He stops in his tracks, eyes flicking between Harry's, before he's sighing and leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom. His hand is over his stomach as he rubs at it, but soon he's shrugging and looking down.
"I know," says Niall. He shuts his eyes and rests his head against the doorframe. "I saw you two. I know."
And it feels like his body's shaking all over. His right hand comes up to brush through his hair, and he's not going crazy—he's shaking.
"Look, mate, you do you," Niall says, waving his hand. "For a second I wondered why you wouldn't tell us. I know we've never talked about that shit, and that we play football and don't talk about feelings, but I realized I don't get it. You know? I don't know what it's like. Fuck, Harry, it wasn't even legal until less than ten years ago, right?" He opens his eyes and scratches his head, as if the topic was the most nonchalant thing to ever happen. "Did you know you're not even at the age of consent? I looked into it at the library, believe it or not. It's fucked up, Harry. You have to be twenty-one for them to think you're old enough to want something like that. Twisted."
Harry feels lightheaded. "Um, we—we haven't, like, you know—"
"I don't care what happens behind closed doors. Louis' nice. I like him. I'm just looking out for you, mate. You just—be careful. In public, and with who you tell. Be careful."
He feels tears well up in his eyes. It's not like he's looked into the law regarding his relationship—he's just been so caught up in feeling so wonderful and elated with having a boyfriend and discovering who he is to worry about anything else.
Fuck.
This isn't what he was expecting to happen when he went out for the night.
"I'm fucking drunk, so I'm blaming it on that," Niall says.
Harry furrows his brows, wondering what he's meaning by it, but then he realizes it as he's leaning over and awkwardly throwing his arms around his shoulders. It takes him a moment to reciprocate the hug, and when he does, he wraps his arms around his mate tightly and is almost about to cry. He doesn't care if Niall thinks it's awkward to give him a hug—he's accepting. That's all that matters. He still loves him, and he hopefully doesn't look at him any differently. It's a conversation they'll have to have sober, and when they can be more serious, but it still feels like a weight he didn't know he was carrying was lifted from his shoulders.
"All right," Niall mutters, pulling away from the hug. "I'm gonna get back and drink some more. Your secret's safe with me, Harry." He pats his shoulder before tucking past him, but he stops in his tracks before exiting the hallway. "Do you love him?"
Harry's stunned again. He's never been asked that, never stopped to consider he's in love with Louis yet. He's never been in love to know what it feels like, and if that's what this is: love.
"I—I don't know," he truthfully says. He sighs deeply. "It's all so new."
"You'd know," Niall says with a shrug of his shoulders. "If you don't see me again, drag me out of the kitchen. Save me from my own drunken doings."
Harry laughs, as forced as it may sound, and he nods slowly. Niall throws up a peace sign with his fingers and leaves altogether, leaving him to ponder anything and everything by himself. The music's suddenly too loud—he can't go back out there yet. He can't will himself to smile and act like everything's normal and fine, when it's the complete opposite.
He decides to take a breather in Matty and Barry's spare bedroom. He hopes no one would be in there, and as he reaches it and presses his ear to the door, his mind is calmed by the fact that he didn't hear anything vulgar going on. He gently twisted the knob and pushed the door open, stepped in, and of course was proven wrong once his eyes landed on them. His feet somehow froze in place, too, so that added to the embarrassment.
Zayn was crouched down in front of Liam (who was sitting at the edge of the bed), on his knees, and fuck. This is terrible. Fucking terrible.
"Harry," Liam's voice sounded.
Oh, God.
"Oh, hey," Zayn says, turning.
Harry instantly closes his eyes. "I'll just leave!"
"No, you're okay. I think I've got it all," says Zayn.
Harry can't help but pop an eye open.
"Yeah, you did. Thanks for the help, I wouldn't have been able to figure it out on my own." Liam smiles and then looks back up to Harry.
Harry only blinks. What?
Zayn stands, and before Harry can do anything, he exhales out of relief once the full view is displayed before him. Zayn had a cloth in his hand and apparently was helping Liam with his trousers from earlier, and not... He doesn't even want to think about it. He's just glad he didn't walk in on anything more than that.
"Thanks again, Zayn. Your hands are magic!" Liam says as he hops up from the bed. Harry almost laughs at the phrasing of his words, but he approaches him as he's leaving. "You okay, Harry? Looks like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," he smiles out. He nods and leaves the room to rejoin the party, and then Zayn walks out of the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. He stares with a raised brow and his nose in the air. "Nice of you. To, uh, help."
Zayn looks away and grabs his leather jacket from off the bed, slowly sliding it on and adjusting it before his eyes fall back on Harry. "You all right? You do look pale."
Harry laughs like a maniac. "Yeah! Just found out I have to be hidden forever! I'm totally fine!"
His brows furrow. "Hidden forev—? What do you mean?" he asks.
"We can't ever truly be ourselves, Zayn, that's what I'm saying," he says as he steps closer to him. He's looking at him with an unreadable expression, as if he wasn't prepared to discuss this yet. "It's doomed from the start."
"Harry, whatever's going on with you, you should just talk to Louis—"
"Zayn," he says, voice dropping, and all traces of mania leaving his tone. "I'm in a relationship with someone that is only legal if it stays hidden, and it's not considered consensual until I turn twenty-one." Zayn's eyes widen, recognition falling over his features. "Fucking doomed."
"Harry, you—you can't think that way. You're grown and know how to make your own decisions. Louis' careful, he's kind, and he'd never take advantage of you—"
"That's not where my mind's at!" Harry yells. He clears his throat and lowers his voice. "I know that. Louis would never. I'm nineteen soon, so, yeah, I know what I'm doing. My feelings for him are all from my heart, Zayn, I wouldn't go for him for something purely sexual."
"I'm not saying you are—"
"And he wouldn't do that with me. I'm just saying, that if we were ever caught and turned in, we'd be in huge fucking trouble. Prison, Zayn. Both of our lives ruined!" Harry's not sure where all this is coming from, but he's so angry that he doesn't know what to do with himself. Why hadn't he researched it? He never knew the details, and he was so naive to not figure it out.
"Okay," Zayn says, voice calm. He walks past Harry and shuts the door, then turns and motions for him to sit on the bed. He does. "Take a moment and think, Harry. Don't interrupt me, just listen." Harry nods, so Zayn continues. "Louis would never pursue a relationship if there was a way to avoid it. The amount of times we talked about it before he took you to London—Harry, he tried so hard to keep his feelings away. He couldn't bare to see you in pain, much less be the one to cause it. So he told me he was going to come clean and allow you to choose whichever path to take. To reject him or accept him."
Zayn huffs, scratches the back of his neck, and then throws his hand in the air. "It's not fair. Believe me, I know. When you want someone so bad it hurts, but it can only happen behind closed doors? What the fuck are we supposed to do with that?" He pauses and shakes his head, and Harry feels like crying again. "If you're uncertain about things, call it off now. Don't suck Louis in only to break his heart due to uncertainty."
"I—fuck, I can't," he says, full-on crying now. He forces himself to look down, so overwhelmed by everything going on. "I don't want to. This is the first time I feel seen and cared for. Like I finally fit in, and I can't stop now. Not when I'm falling so hard for him."
"And that's your choice, Harry. Stay with him. He needs you, probably more than you need him. He's been fucked over for so much of his life, yet he still allows himself to be vulnerable with you. To set himself up for probable heartbreak. Because even if you don't see it, and even if he doesn't know it yet, he's madly in love with you." Zayn inches closer to the door, his hand on the knob. "Don't break his heart, Harry," is the last thing he says before walking out of the room entirely.
Harry sighs deeply as if it would help calm him, but it doesn't. He wipes his face, prays it isn't red, and falls back onto the bed with a frown. He feels so conflicted—he's taking what Zayn said about Louis being in love with him with a grain of salt, because the words didn't come from Louis himself. And his heart will hurt even more if he starts to think about how he's falling so hard for Louis, and how they'll have to remain a secret for God knows how long.
It's hard to breathe when it feels like the entire world's against him.
"Harry, there you are!"
He sits up from the bed immediately to find Gemma laughing, the door thrown open, and a look of excitement on her face. "You've got to come see this! Niall's about to beat Cleo at beer pong! Cleo! The beer pong champion!"
"All right," he softly says, pushing himself up, and following her out.
He can make it through the night, and everything will be perfectly fine.
———
He couldn't help himself. He had to see Louis. It was starting to feel like his body might just give out if he didn't see him soon. He'd stayed up all night after the party thinking about their future and their relationship. Is this the other shoe that's dropped? He can only hope not. He's decided he won't let this hold him back—it hasn't changed anything. He still wants to be with Louis, and it's still a secret. It's not like that was ever going to change.
"You seem off," Louis says by his side.
He's got his arm around Harry, fingers stroking over his shoulder as he's tucked into him. The television's on, and the newest episode of Two's Company is playing. And Harry's hardly spoken to Louis. He just wants to sit with him—is that too much to ask?
"I'm not," Harry defends.
The light touches stop on his shoulder. "What happened?" Louis asks.
He looks over and begins feeling overwhelmed again. Seeing the concern in Louis' eyes, the care he holds for him, and possibly the love, makes it harder to try and talk. Especially when he just wants to kiss him and feel okay. He just needs to know everything will be okay.
Instead of looking him in the eye while talking, he adjusts himself against Louis so that his head would be resting on his shoulder, and his face hidden into his neck.
"Niall got me freaked out last night, saying we should be careful. He'd apparently read up about how people like us can only be together privately, and I have to be twenty-one to, like, you know... Consensually do things with you... Um. It was just—"
"Harry," Louis lowly says. Seriously. Harry frowns and feels his heart drop. "Niall knows?"
It's like he can't make himself blink, let alone move. Even when Louis shifts and most likely is wanting him to sit up so they can talk face-to-face. "He figured it out. I didn't tell him," he quietly says.
"Sit up and look at me," his stern voice carries out.
Harry immediately does so, as reluctant as it may be. He can't help but scoot back once he's facing Louis; he looks upset. Possibly mad.
"I thought we agreed no one was to know," he continues, brows scrunching together. "Niall's right, and it's dangerous if people find out. Why did you tell him?"
"I didn't!" he argues, voice becoming shaky. "He said he saw us. I didn't ask him when, but he said he won't say anything. He's my best mate, Louis, you can trust him."
Louis goes silent, his eyes torn away from Harry's and his brows still drawn in. He's thinking too much, and he wishes to know what thoughts are circulating in his mind, but whatever it is, it doesn't look good. He seems frustrated, even. Mad at Harry, it seems, and he doesn't know what to say or do. He understands the risks, more now than ever, but Niall wouldn't tell a soul. It's not like Louis' been the most secretive, either. From making out in the bakery to gentle touches underneath dinner tables. It's a ridiculous law, and it's not like they're fucking. They're not doing anything wrong.
He stands suddenly, his shoulders visibly tensed underneath the white t-shirt he was wearing, and he starts to head towards the doors to his backyard. "I'm having a smoke," he says, voice soft, but still on edge. "I think you should go."
"S-smoke?" Harry asks, his tone much softer than normal. He sounds like a timid child. "I didn't know you smoked."
"I do," he says, turning at once. "On and off. It's late, Harry. I'll call you, okay?"
He's not sure how to react. Because he doesn't want to get up and leave, he wants to be with Louis. He wants to hold him, kiss him—just be in his presence. Taste the peppermint on his tongue, feel the way his fingertips dance over exposed skin. Anything but this. He appears cold and looks as if his walls are up, and it's like he's at square one again. When he didn't know what Louis' looks meant, and when he'd shield the look in his eyes away.
"Is this—are we fighting? Are we okay?" he stupidly questions. He's just never experienced this before. He feels sick.
Louis smiles, tight-lipped, and somehow with no expression at all. "We're okay."
He gulps and stands with a nod; he thinks about going over and kissing him goodbye, but Louis' already turned around and heading out the door. Harry's heart sinks further.
They're not okay, are they?
———
hi i just want to say that in no way, shape, or form am i trying to glorify/romanticize sexual acts underage. in 1967 in the UK, the Sexual Offenses Act was instituted so that homosexual men could have sexual relationships in private, and the consensual age was set at 21. for straight sexual relationships, the age of consent is 16 in the UK (and has been since 1885). harry, in this story, is eighteen (almost nineteen lol) and we all know how homophobic this time was. harry's a full fledged adult, capable of making his own decisions, and is mature enough to be with who he wants to be with. because he's eighteen.
maybe no one thought of me as trying to glorify this, but i just wanted to explain things going on in this period of life. the Act placed was an advancement nonetheless, seeing as how, beforehand, sexual acts between gay men were a criminal offense, no matter the age. (also sexual acts between women were never illegal in case u were wondering)
sorry if you didn't come here for a history lesson lol surprise. i just hope this didn't put anyone off. if i'm being honest, it's made it difficult for me to want to include anything sexual between them at all, which is why there's only been cute make-out seshes <3
please respect my decision as a writer if i don't add it at all. i don't want to be accused of sexualizing anyone, and i respect these characters too much to force a cheap smut scene that i wasn't 100% behind. you can read thousands of other fics to get off to xx
SORRY IF IM DISAPPOINTING ANYONE I LOVE THIS STORY AND THESE CHARACTERS ANd i just want everything to go perfectly.
unnecessarily long rant over! see ya soon!