If you ask Harry Styles what life is all about, he’ll tell you: “Crowded airports and delayed flights.” He never thought the day would come that he’d be sick of traveling, that he’d say for the love of God, let me stay home forever , but it has come and he is saying it. Or, well, he has been saying it for the last couple of weeks, but Ben never listens to him. No.
Ben tells him to get up, suck it up, and get on the next flight. Ben tells him where to be, and when to be there, and how to dress for the occasion. Ben doesn’t pity him, Ben doesn’t coddle him, Ben doesn’t see him as a human being — basically. As it is, Ben controls him, and Ben puts him on yet another plane, on his way to England this time.
At twenty-two years old, Harry Styles has decided that being the Mick Jagger of this generation isn’t worth it. It’s too much work, too little sleep, too many headlines scrutinizing his personal life. Still, there isn’t much he can do now. He’s at the top. He’s just come back from a worldwide arena tour, his album keeps selling more and more, and his name is everywhere from Tokyo to New York, from the Philippines to Argentina.
People know him, is the thing. Sometimes they have a hard time associating the name with the face, or the face with the song, but they always know.
Harry started his career at sixteen, when he placed third on The X Factor UK and, somehow, became infinitely more interesting than the second and first place winners. At the beginning, his image was nothing more than “cute guy next door”; they’d give him fake girlfriends left and right, but it would all be very tamed, very romantic.
At eighteen, things started to change. The industry saw him as a man, and so did his management. Harry was a heartthrob, the perfect womanizer, a “love them and leave them” kind of man. Only he wasn’t. He never was.
At sixteen, Harry had kissed three people. At eighteen, he’d slept with two. At twenty-two, this number has gone up to five: four girls and one boy. Because, yes, Harry Styles is a bisexual man who’s been out and proud for a year now, having come out at twenty-one, celebrating his birthday at an American gay bar (such a cliché, he knows!).
Point is: Harry Styles isn’t, and never was, the person the media says he is. But he still plays the part, for a number of reasons, really. One, it sells. Two, his friends and family know the real him. Three, it’s easier to have people discuss a lie than the truth. He doesn’t know how he’d feel if everybody had an opinion on people who are close to his heart and mind and body, but if they wanna discuss a lie… Then do it. Harry really doesn’t mind.
At the end of the day, his favorite thing to do is get either drunk or stoned (or both) with his band, have some wine with his mom, or watch romcoms with his friends while having spa days. He does enjoy the occasional night out, and award ceremonies and their after parties aren’t that bad either, but… At twenty-two, Harry Styles has decided that he’d give up everything for the right person, because, after seeing the world and all it has to offer, the one thing his money can’t buy is the only one that’s missing right now.
And it fucking sucks.
“How much longer is it going to take?” Harry asks the very nice woman from the airport.
She offers him a tired and false smile, showing him just how tired she is of answering his question.
“We’ll start boarding in a few minutes, Sir,” she tells him. “We just needed the weather to clear up a bit.”
Come on, God , the singer pleads. Harry’s exhausted, he just needs to get on the plane and fall asleep.
He offers her an equally false smile, and thanks her for being so kind. Harry isn’t anything if not polite.
He’s been at the airport for six hours now. Six. And like, he knows everyone on this flight has been here for the same amount of time, and everyone has a life. However, no one will have dozens of paps on their faces as soon as they get to their home country, and have to go straight to a radio interview to announce a new album in the making and a single that will come out in three weeks.
If the flight hadn’t been delayed, he’d have had time to rest for a bit upon getting to London. As it is, he needs to recharge his energy on the plane itself. Harry just really wants to sleep.
Boarding is always the same. First class goes in first (duh), and he drags himself across the tube, saying hi to everyone and pretending he doesn’t see an air hostess sneaking a picture of him. Harry doesn’t understand why he gets to enter the plane before everyone else - it just means he’ll have to do more waiting inside of it.
He puts his backpack in the right compartment, buckles up, pulls up his hood till it covers half of his face, turns on his side and closes his eyes. He’s fast asleep before people have finished boarding.
When Harry wakes up again, it’s to someone talking to the air hostess in a very low voice, but high pitched at the same time. English accent as strong as ever.
“I’ll only have the spinach pasta and a diet coke, please.” The man by his side finishes his order.
Harry yawns and both people notice it.
“Sorry.” He says, still waking up.
“We’re just about to serve dinner. What would you like to eat, Sir?” The woman asks.
“Uh…” Harry rubs his eyes and pulls off the hood. His hair must look a mess, but he can’t worry about that now. “Just a light salad with fried chicken, please. Do you have a lemonade?”
“No, Sir, I’m sorry. We’ve got orange juice, apple juice, coffee, tea, soda, and alcoholic drinks.” She says it all in a rehearsed manner.
“Uh, sparkling water?” He sort of asks. She nods. “Thanks.”
“All right, so, just to recap: spinach pasta and a diet coke, salad with fried chicken, and sparkling water.”
“Yes, that’s it.” The guy by his side responds with a smile. “Thanks, love.” He says, the word love being super characteristic, the ‘o’ very closed.
Harry finds it amazing that he sounds so British. It’s not that he doesn’t have an accent, he does, but after spending so much time in the United States, some people say he’s losing it. Hell.
“Hi, I’m Louis.” The man turns a bit on his seat, and only now Harry can see his entire face.
The first thing he notices is that it’s angled. His cheekbones are to die for and he has a perfect nose and a perfect chin. His lips are thin, and remarkable still; very red, but not lipstick red. Annoyingly natural yet gorgeous red. Not many people manage that.
But his eyes… Harry thinks those are where he gets lost the most. They’re sickening blue — like, Prince Charming blue, cloudless sky blue, open ocean on a perfect summer day blue. Someone should name a color after the guy. Louis blue , Harry thinks dumbly.
While Harry’s own hair is a tangled mess of curls that are basically impossible to put a brush through at the moment (too small to put up in a bun, too big to tame it), Louis’ hair is straight yet fluffy. A caramel color that looks just as sweet and inviting as the candy. Fuck. Louis is beautiful.
“Nice to meet you, Louis.” Harry says, voice hoarse. He blames it on the sleep. Then he clears his throat. “Sorry, just woke up.”
“That’s fine. I respect how well you were sleeping. I can never fall asleep on planes. Or any means of transportation, really.”
“I travel a lot for work, so I need to get as much sleep as possible… ’S not always good.” He offers. “Were you on holiday here in LA?” The singer decides to ask. Louis seems nice; Harry could use some natural, real conversation with a stranger for once.
“Oh no, I… Work here. Sometimes.” He amends.
“Sometimes?” Harry chuckles.
“I design cars, so more often than not I’m jumping between offices. London, LA, Frankfurt. Tokyo every now and then.” Louis shrugs. “Wow, that sounded extremely cocky, didn’t it?” He snorts. “Sorry.”
“Nah, ’s what you do. How does it work though? Designing cars?” Harry asks, turning on his side too, very interested in just listening to Louis.
“No one asks me that, because I can go on and on about it. My family’s always teasing me ‘bout it. Are you sure you wanna know?” The man checks. Harry smiles and nods in response. “I design the appearance, the components, and I work with a lot, I repeat, a lot of engineers to get the mechanical, electrical, software and safety aspects right. It’s teamwork really.”
“Wow. Like, that sounds awesome. I didn’t know there was like— I don’t know. What was your major in uni?”
Louis laughs out loud.
“Most automotive designers are industrial designers with an art background. I studied both in uni.”
“And do you love it?”
“Well,” he sighs, “there’s a lot more math to it than I’d previously thought. Much of the design process involves collaborating with automobile engineers, like I said, to ensure all calculations and mathematical formulas are correct and that the final design is not only innovative, but meets the needs of the consumer and reflects the image of the company.”
“Wow.” Harry repeats.
“I talk a lot, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, that is- impressive.” He assures him. “Wow.”
“It’s all right. Tiring.”
“So, what were you in LA for? What are you designing? The new Porsche?” The singer teases.
“The new Lamborghini.” Louis responds.
“Holy shit.” The boy chuckles. “Have I ever driven anything you’ve designed?”
“Probably not. You look like a truck man. Those big Range Rovers and all. I’m more of a detail-oriented guy.” He answers carefully. “I did intern for Audi at the beginning, but I don’t work for them anymore.”
“Phew.” Harry whistles. “And yes, love me some Range Rovers.”
“You’ve got big hands.” The man glances at Harry’s hands, which are clasped tight together.
Harry’s been on a dry spell for months now. He can’t even tell if that was flirting or not. But it doesn’t matter much, because when he’s about to reply, the air hostess comes back with their food, and suddenly they’re talking like old pals about their hometowns and how crazy it is that Americans call that lady a flight attendant instead of an air hostess.
Harry tells Louis that diet coke is just as bad on the body as the normal one — it contains a lot of sugar. Louis tells him to shut up and drink his bubbly water.
“Nobody cares about your opinion, Curly.” He says. Oh. If Louis only knew.
Louis doesn’t know. Harry suspected he didn’t, but now he is a hundred percent sure that Louis has no idea Harry is who he is, and here’s why: once they finish eating, they decide to drink some tea together, and afterwards, Louis apologizes, but says he needs to focus back on work and finish a report to send to the German office before they touch British soil.
So he opens up his MacBook Air and Harry can’t help but look at his iTunes library.
What he did not expect was to see his name there: Harry Styles, and a half-played album.
He has to ask.
“What’s that you were listening to?”
“Oh, it’s this guy, uh- Harry Styles?” Louis turns to him. “My sisters are so obsessed with him that they got to me. Mom took them to a concert this year and they lost it. But they were so far away, poor things… Their videos are horrible.” He chuckles.
“Hm.” Harry replies. He wants to ask him where his sisters went, and if Louis watched the videos carefully, if he could make anything of them, but he thinks that might be too suspicious, so at the end he settles for: “Is he any good? I’ve heard a lot about him.”
“He’s proper famous, isn’t he?” Louis smirks. “He’s good, believe it or not. Many people don’t give credit to teenage girls, but I don’t regret listening to him.”
“D’you have a favorite?”
“You’ve probably heard Sign of the Times, because everyone’s heard this song…” Louis checks his screen. “Don’t know. This is the best one musically speaking. But there’s something about this one,” he points at his screen, “ From the Dining Table . It’s just so sad. Makes one wonder what this guy went through.”
“Sad.” Louis replies. “Anyways. Don’t be prejudiced and give the pop star a listen. He’s really talented.”
“I think I will. While you finish your report.” Harry tells him.
“Deal. Tell me what you think later.” Louis smiles and, apologizing once again, puts on his headphone, opening a document on his laptop and typing away.
Harry, petty as he is, pays for the plane Wi-Fi just to tweet about it. He needs to.
Still tired, and now satisfied, Harry closes his eyes for a nap again, telling Louis to wake him up if he gets bored. However, next time he opens his eyes they’re about to land in England, and Louis is telling him to sit straight.
When Louis gets home, he just really wants a shower and his bed. At the beginning, jet lag used to be a bitch, but now he can sleep at anytime, his internal clock has accepted that it’s rarely going to be constant anyway.
He smiles to himself once his head hits the pillow, everything freshly changed for his arrival. The good side of making decent money is that he can have people come over and clean his place when he isn’t here, just so he can come back and enjoy the flat peacefully.
A while ago, he thought about buying a house, but decided against it when his real estate agent said the market was about to crash; plus, it’s not like he has anyone to fill the house with. His mother and his sisters don’t seem to want to leave Doncaster. His friends are all scattered across the world, and the only two good friends he has around here are a couple, therefore, they wouldn’t come to visit as much.
So he thought it over, and didn’t see the necessity to buy a house if it weren’t going to become a home. A home, to Louis, is the place you fill with the people you love the most, or at least one person. Louis doesn’t have that one person, never has had that one person, not with a job like this.
He wanted to, you know. For the longest time Louis thought about settling down: finding a husband, building a life together, having kids. That was in his five to ten year plan when he entered uni. But things took a turn he didn’t expect and, at twenty-five years old, he can’t say he’s given up on it, but he’s definitely put it on hold.
He’s still young, and he might be just a tad bit immature to be in a relationship with someone who will request his attention 100% of the time. He needs his space, he loves what he does. He needs someone who will complement his way of living, not make it harder. And he gets it: it’s a lot to ask.
So he’s decided that until he’s ready to change, until he’s found another job, maybe, one that will allow him to stay put in one place, he won’t be looking for a long term relationship. There’s no point in holding someone else’s life up because he doesn’t want his own to change drastically.
It is what it is.
His phone rings when he’s about to go into deep sleep, real thoughts almost vanishing from his mind and giving space to the oblivion. If it were anyone else, Louis wouldn’t pick it up, but it’s Fizzy, one of his sisters, and Louis never turns down family calls.
“Hey, Fizz.” He says sleepily after he presses the accept button.
“LOUIS! Are you in London?” Félicité basically screams in his ear.
“Yeah, got in a couple of hours ago. I texted y’all in the group chat.”
“I know, I needed to confirm it.” Her voice is shaking.
“Is everything all right?” He frowns.
“What was your flight number?”
“Your flight number, from Los Angeles. What was it?”
“Don’t remember, Fizz, why?” Louis rubs his eyes and turns flat on his back, looking at the ceiling.
“I think- I think you were on the same flight as… Holy shit.”
“Language.” He corrects by instinct. “What are you on about?”
“I’m 80% sure you were sitting by Harry Styles’ side.”
“The Harry Styles? The one you and the twins love?”
“And the rest of the fucking world, yes, LOUIS!” Fizzy is hysterical.
“Not possible. See, I was listening to his album for a while, the guy who was by my side didn’t even know his music, I think I would’ve known if I were sitting by Harry Styles’ side.” He snorts. But… Maybe he wouldn’t, because his last recollection of the guy was his face on Phoebe’s lunchbox, when he was basically a baby and so were his sisters. “Wait-”
“I can’t believe you!” Fizzy sighs. “Check the link I sent you, you idiot.” Then she hangs up.
Louis rubs his eyes once again and opens his and Fizzy’s private chat to find a twitter link in there. And… Holy shit, indeed.
He instantly replies to it, and it scares Louis how fast these things spread.
Here’s how it happens: Louis sends a cheeky reply and turns around, because he really needs to get some sleep. In the next six or so hours, Harry’s fans not only find him, but retweet his tweet, like it, reply to him. Some are nice. Some attack him because HOW DARE LOUIS NOT KNOW WHAT HARRY LOOKS LIKE.
He wakes up in an okay mood, and calls his family on Skype just to hear more and more from his sisters what Harry’s entire fanbase has already told him: he sucks, he has no idea of how lucky he is, how the hell is he feeling now.
Louis chuckles and tell his sisters Harry’s a really nice guy. Thinking now, he remembers that despite having introduced himself, Harry never said his name, but indulged him in conversation all the time. Lord, Louis even attempted to flirt with him.
He only feels embarrassed about it until he sees Harry’s not only followed him, but sent him a reply. [This would’ve never happened if it weren’t for all those fan accounts retweeting Louis in Harry’s timeline, or the UK Trending Topic “SomeoneToldLouis”, so, beforehand, he’d like to thank everyone involved in the process.
Louis laughs out loud staring at his phone. He can’t believe this is happening. It’s been so long since his stomach felt like this at the sight of a message.
Louis sends it and follows him immediately.
Then, comes a message in private.
He takes his phone and saves the number Harry sent him, sending a don’t worry text right after, just so the boy will have his number saved too. Louis genuinely, seriously cannot believe this is happening.
Harry doesn’t remember the last time he got ready for a date. He thinks about calling his sister, but he doesn’t want her telling their mother anything, at least not for now. Both of them already saw his tweets, of course. The world has. There are headlines about his and Louis’ tweet adventure — and whilst the other man seems unbothered about it all, Harry’s family and close friends are desperate to know if that’s going somewhere or not.
Plus, his fans haven’t given Louis any rest. Louis, who is an absolute tease and tweets him at least once a day just out of spite, to make his fans anxious and curious. Harry never replies anymore, being the one who needs to deal with Ben on a daily basis. In four days, Louis has already told Ben to go fuck himself through texts seven times — Harry laughed in all of them.
Point is, he decides to call his producer for help, since he’s one of the few people Harry actually trusts in this industry.
“I don’t know what to wear,” he whines into the phone.
“You sound ridiculous.”
“Stop being drunk and be serious, Niall!” Harry complains.
“I’m not drunk. Irish people do not get drunk,” the man slurs. “Also, wear whatever. He saw you with ugly airplane hair and probably bad breath and still asked you out. So.”
“You’re no help.” He huffs out.
“Hazza. You could wear a potato bag and look smashing in it. You’re so hot it’s annoying, mate, really.” The singer smiles. He loves Niall so much. “Just put on them skinny jeans, a pair of yer ridiculous boots and a decent shirt. Tame your hair.”
“I’m wearing a red shirt. And my hair looks alright, I think.” He looks at his reflection. The mirror tells him he won’t get much better than this, not with the… Shit. Not with the nine minutes he has to spare.
“I’m sure Louis will want to suck your dick at the end of the night. Good luck. Bye.”
“I hate that I love you so much.” He sighs. “We’re still on for our session on Sunday night?” Harry confirms.
“Be fucking sober.”
“Irish people do not get dr-” Harry hangs up on him.
Louis texted him a time and a place, but nothing else. Harry opts for driving himself to the restaurant, too scared that a driver will draw even more attention to him.
Ben didn’t want him to go on a date with Louis; he advised Harry to just forget it, because it was one thing to make headlines with tweets, but another completely different to actually meet him for a date, and risk ending up in the papers again. And, to a certain degree, he is right about it.
When people talk about Louis, they aren’t talking about a lie. When they mention him and Harry, the singer is aware that it’s something purely canon. There’s no stunt there; Louis isn’t trying to raise his profile — doesn’t need to —, and Harry certainly isn’t either. Still, there is something about this situation that feels right to him.
It was just so easy to talk to Louis. It was funny and it’s still been easy and funny. Throughout the whole week Harry was actually counting the days to see him, and talk to him in person again. No matter how much they texted - and they did text a whole lot -, it wasn’t the same as listening to his voice and looking into his eyes.
And fuck, Harry knows he’s being sappy for no reason whatsoever. Louis inviting him out doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he just wants a fuck. Maybe he’s in it for the thrill of sleeping with a worldwide famous person. Maybe he’s a douchebag who can pretend really well. But even with all those maybes, Harry decided to trust his heart.
Louis wasn’t nervous up until now. When Harry texted and said he’d be five minutes late, apologizing at least three times, Louis said it was all right. Because it was. But those five minutes flew by, because the door has opened and Louis can see the man entering the restaurant and notices instantly where Louis is.
He says something to one of the waitresses and smiles politely at her, making his way towards Louis. And Louis… Poor thing. For the first time in his life he understands why girls scream when they see him. Watching Harry Styles walk towards him, with a smile on his face, running his fingers through his carefully messed up hair, makes Louis himself want to scream. (He kind of does, internally. Harry’s just… Too much.)
“Hey,” Harry says as soon as he’s close enough. He doesn’t let Louis make it awkward by not being able to decide whether they’ll hug or not, and just sits across from him on the table. “How are you?”
“Not sure. Ask me again in five minutes,” he chuckles.
"Sorry I was a bit late, I might've freaked out choosing an outfit." The singer tells him.
"One would think you'd have your stylist do it for ya," Louis jokes.
"Yeeeah, that's not how it works… Most of the time, at least." Harry offers with a smile.
"So." He takes a deep breath. "You're an international sensation." As soon as he says it, the younger man rolls his eyes. "It's not a bad thing, 's just..." Louis trails.
"I'm the guy from the plane, Louis." Harry reaffirms.
"Who thought it was nice to remain incognito and mock me in front of his millions of followers..."
"I honestly had no idea you'd find out." The singer tries to defend himself and fails. But it's okay. They're not fighting, they're teasing each other. This is good.
"If my sister hadn't called me I probably wouldn't have." He chuckles. "I'm glad I did."
"Yeah?" Harry smiles up at him.
Fuck, that smile.
The waitress comes and offers them the wine menu, but Louis knows exactly what he wants to drink. First, he checks with Harry, of course, if white wine is okay with him, then he proceeds to place his order. They also ask for some appetizers while they decide on the main course, and once everything's at the table Harry congratulates Louis for an amazing wine choice.
"I find men who know their wine to be very hot." He whispers while the waitress is still around.
Louis simply eyes him, wanting to devour Harry right there.
Because here's the thing: he is undeniably hot. Louis had thought so on the plane, even when Harry had greasy hair and a hoodie over joggers, but now, all sexy and put together, he's doing even more things to the designer. Louis knows beauty. He's the most detail-oriented person to ever exist, and no matter how much he stares at Harry Styles, he can't seem to find a flaw.
Sure, maybe he doesn't have the most symmetrical nose in the world, and his teeth are only a tiny bit crooked. He's got a couple of pimples on his forehead, and doesn't seem to be able to grow a beard. But every one of those little things assemble an amazing, jaw-dropping face. Harry's eyes are ridiculous, mint ice cream green, and they're alive. His mouth is the most obscene thing Louis has ever seen, and his lips are so red that they make Louis want to bite them raw. And his jawline… It could slice things in half, so sharp it is.
If Louis has ever imagined the perfect man, he is right in front of him, right now. And the designer gets lost in it, because it's been so long… Too long since he's been entranced like this. His mind is spinning, his heart aches, and his dick twitches. Not everyone can do that to a person; thinking now… No one has ever done this to him.
"Earth to Louis, hello!" Harry waves his hand in front of Louis' face.
"Am I boring you that much? You were just… Staring."
"No, you're..." Louis collects himself, then looks straight at the younger man. "You're mesmerizing."
"Louis." Harry blushes.
"I swear. I was… I don't know. This is crazy." He laughs. "Don't let me creep you out. How was your week?"
"It was good!" The singer perks up. "Tiring, but good. Did a few interviews, a photoshoot."
"Didn't you just get off tour?"
"Yes, but I'm working on my next album, I just… Don't stop." He offers.
"It's… Rare. Usually around the holidays, but otherwise I got no reason to." Harry tells him. "I mean… I like to be on demand, if that makes sense."
"That makes you sound like a product." Louis makes a face. He doesn't even try to stop it.
"Well," he shrugs, "I kinda am."
"No, you're not." Louis replies. Harry doesn't look like he's going to argue with him now. "Okay, so, new album… You excited?"
"Very." The smile on his face is genuine. "My producer is in London too, so we've been scheduling some writing sessions… If… If you're not too busy, you could come 'round the studio this week. You're gonna love him, everybody does."
"I have Tuesday and Thursday free, actually. Wait, no- only Tuesday. My sisters are coming on Thursday, I'm taking them shopping." Louis smiles at the mention of the girls. He misses all of them immensely.
"Tuesday works. We'll be there all afternoon." Harry says. "I love this process, you know? Like, working hard, days and nights on end… It's all so liberating. I think it's the best part of my job."
"Yeah. It's when it all makes more sense, you know? To perform, and to travel… Those are amazing things. But bottom line, what I like to do is art. Music. Sharing my music is great. But creating it… Going to a place where I can write and write and write and make sense of my feelings is… Don't know. Something else." Louis listens to the words, checks Harry's smile, and sees the truth in his eyes. It makes him happy to see Harry happy.
This man's smile is contagious.
"I have a feeling I'll love to see you in the studio." He says genuinely.
"It'll be good to have you there." Harry smiles at him, and for a second there they're suspended in air.
They eat their appetizers while Louis tells Harry more about his life - family, friends, work. When the waitress comes again to place their orders, both man have already downed half a bottle of wine, but they're not anywhere near drunk, since they've been eating all long.
While they wait again, Harry asks Louis what the best part of his job is. The money, Louis responds right away, and it isn't a lie. Despite loving to draw and being in contact with the best and most luxurious cars in the world, the trips are exhausting and the meetings are boring and, apart from Liam, who is a very nice guy, and a good friend, engineers all suck. They're boring and uptight and more often than not homophobic pricks, so, at the end, the money is what makes it all worth it for him.
Being well paid, Louis gets to provide for his family, and give back every little amazing thing his mother has done for him along the years his father left and they were all alone. The idea of giving them a safe future is what keeps Louis going. When he tells Harry that, the singer shares his own life story with him, and when the food arrives, it's just something that is in the way of their conversation. Harry talks and talks and talks, and Louis never wants to hear another voice in his life.
Harry has had a lot of first dates, if he thinks about it. Blind dates, mostly, but first dates nonetheless. And generally, that was all they were: first dates. On the rare occasion he liked the person and continued to see them, he wound up screwed over, because, at the end of the day, everyone just really wanted a piece of Harry Styles and what his fame and money had to offer. Mostly, Harry went out with someone and decided they weren't worth a second date.
But Louis… Jesus Christ. They’re sharing dessert now, and Harry doesn't want the night to end. He wants to stroll around and hold Louis' hand and maybe kiss him goodnight.
In the back of his mind, there's Jeff telling him to lay low, to think about repercussions, to be careful with his image. He can hear Niall telling him to go for it, to think about what will make him happy in the moment, to be careful, yes, but with his heart.
Harry was never one to listen to his management much. And if Louis is okay with it, he'd like to take his chances on the street.
"Yeah?" Louis looks up at him, lips a bit dirty with chocolate.
Harry's heart skips a beat.
"Can we… Not go home, after we finish eating?"
"Thank God!" Louis groans. "I really wanna finish eating this fudge, but I didn't want to, like- say goodbye." He blushes. He blushes. Harry starts falling in love right here.
"Finish your fudge for fuck's sake..." He jokes, "And..." Harry raises a napkin… "Clean your mouth," he very carefully cleans the corner of Louis' lips, "and let’s stroll around, yeah?"
They fight over who pays the bill. Harry argues he's a millionaire. Louis tells him to shove his millions up his ass, because he was the one to ask him out. Harry tells Louis that the only reason he asked him out was because Harry actually begged him. Louis replies saying that the only place he likes people begging him things is in the bedroom. It takes Harry so long to form a response that the man does end up paying the check.
Louis is gonna be the death of him. But man, what a way to go.
Harry drove, but Louis came by taxi, so they both agree to leave Harry’s car at Louis’ place before they go to a park near the man’s flat. As it turns out, it’s only two streets away, but it’s enough for Louis to tease him about the interior design of his car — a Range Rover SUV.
“I love it, let me be.”
“But you’re such a classy guy…” Louis whines.
“You’re the only person who doesn’t like Range Rovers, Louis.” The singer rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed.
“I’m the only person who appreciates designs, clearly.” He chuckles. “Bodyguards drive Range Rovers. Pop-stars drive Porsches, or Bentleys, or Mercedes.”
“Those aren’t family cars.” Harry points out.
“Wasn’t aware you were a father of three.” Louis jokes.
“Not yet,” the singer winks, but immediately regrets it. He really doesn’t want to freak Louis out on their first date. He decides to change topics. Fast. “And anyways, what’s your ride then?”
“Turn left,” he says before responding to the question. “Drove a Porsche Panamera for three and a half years, but they’ve sent me a Jaguar XJ for my birthday last year, and that’s what I’ve been driving ever since.”
At that, Harry bursts out laughing.
“I’m a high profiled celebrity and all I get for free are designer clothes. You get designer cars.” He’s only a tiny bit outraged.
“Designer cars I’ve designed.” Louis reminds him. “It’s this building over here, on the right.” He shows Harry again, who slows down to park by the sidewalk.
“I thought Jaguars were old people cars.” His stepfather used to have one.
“They were. Till they hired me,” it’s his turn to wink. “I mean, ride’s a bit firm, but today’s Jaguar XJ is a far cry from the old-fashioned car you have in mind. Modestly speaking, or not at all,” they both laugh, “this model has cutting-edge looks inside and out, it’s really high-end style. Not to mention the amount of technology we managed to put inside.”
Harry wants to tell him once again just how sexy he gets when he talks design. But he refrains from it.
“You’re gonna have to show it to me one day. Might end up having to buy one.” Harry says as he unbuckles. Louis does the same.
“Eh. I’ll think about it,” he teases. “So, d’you really feel like walking or d’you wanna come up for drinks?” The man asks as they both exit the car.
“Uh, I really do feel like going for a walk. And I could come up for drinks afterwards, if you’re not sick of me.” He smiles to hide his insecurities.
“Does anyone ever get tired of you, Pop Star?” Louis asks. “C’mon, the park is very near.”
They walk together, hands sometimes touching. Harry feels electrified being so close to Louis, and it’s a new kind of feeling, he reckons. It’s not that he’s never been in love, it’s just that it’s never been this fast; the way his body reacts to every little thing Louis does comes as a surprise to Harry, especially because it’s only the second time they’re seeing each other.
You see, only one week ago they weren’t aware of each other’s existences. Louis knew who Harry was, but didn’t really know his face. Harry had no idea that Louis Tomlinson walked this earth. And now they’re here, strolling around while the spring breeze slowly is giving in to summer, and Harry’s slowly giving in to his heart once again.
“When you said I’d caused a PR nightmare…” Louis asks him because he has to. This question has been eating him away for days now. “Did I cause you any trouble?”
“Not really, no…” Harry answers carefully. “I’m out, so there’s nothing my team can do, you know? Ben’s just… Worried. But they had to know it was coming, at some point.”
“What d’you mean?”
Harry blushes. Louis wants to take his hand, but he doesn’t. Not yet at least.
“I came out as bisexual a couple of years ago…” He starts. Louis knows that much. “But I’ve only publicly dated women ever since, so it’s almost like people… Forgot.”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Bisexuals aren’t really validated, are we? Like. Guys think I’m in it for the fun and will eventually settle down with a girl. Women think I’m just looking for attention, and usually ask for a threesome with a random, third guy. Generally speaking, I’m either a repressed homosexual or gay-baiting the LGBTQ+ community.”
“Right?” Harry asks; he might be a bit hysterical now, but talking about this always pisses him off, because people are so ignorant. Including his team. “I know it’s not right. But… Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.” Louis slowly rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry hugs him sideways. It’s so comforting. Louis sort of wants to be in his arms all the time now. “Why haven’t you dated guys publicly?”
“I didn’t hide.” He tells him. “But it didn’t last long enough to become a thing in the media. My fans knew, I think, ‘cause he went with me on tour for a while there.”
“How long did it last?”
“Four months I think? Five, don’t know how long it took him to realize I wasn’t worth it.” He laughs humorlessly.
“Do I know him?” Louis is not sure he wants to know the answer, but…
“No, don’t think so.” The younger man shakes his head negatively. “We used to frequent the same parties in LA. He’s American.”
“Hm. American and an idiot. No surprise there.” He smiles sheepishly and buries his face in Harry’s chest. The singer stops in his tracks and hugs Louis. Louis hugs him back.
“Right now,” he says near his ear, “I feel like there’s no one around us. But there might be. There might be someone taking pictures, or filming, and we might be on The Sun tomorrow.” He warns him. “And they’ll write about us, and look up everything about you and your family and-”
“Harry, there’s no one around.” Louis squeezes him tight.
“Not today, maybe. But.”
“And when there is, we’ll deal with it.” He promises. “Like I said, your fans don’t scare me. Your team much less.”
“‘M sorry I’m saying all this shit so soon. Too soon…” Louis can see Harry blushing when they separate.
“I don’t mind that you are. But why are you? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’ve had two serious relationships…” Harry says and resumes walking. Louis follows him, but now makes sure that they’re literally attached to the hip, hugging Harry by the waist. “One with a girl, and this one, that I thought would last. In both cases, I think I was the only one who was serious about it.” He grimaces. “People tend to think that because I’m twenty-two, I’m not looking for that, but… It’s all I’ve been looking for, really.”
It sounds like a confession. One Harry was very scared to make. Louis is glad he’s making it. God, he’s so, so glad.
“So when this guy ended things with me, I decided that I wouldn’t look for anything anymore, just… If it ever found me, I’d be upfront with the person.”
“And you think it has found you?” Louis’ smile grows on his face. He can’t even control it. Doesn’t want to. Suddenly he’s seventeen again.
“I think you have.” Harry replies, not looking at him. “Just- don’t run away, please. Not before I can make you like me a little bit,” he chuckles.
“I liked you a little bit when you were sleeping by my side on the plane, Harry.” Louis kisses his shoulder. “Reckon I like you quite a lot, a week later. Can you imagine what it will happen in a month?” He’s only half-joking when he asks.
“I can.” Harry doesn’t seem to be joking at all in his answer. “Hey, did you ever think a pop-star would be this insecure?” His question is loaded with amusement, but Louis knows he’s serious about it.
“You’re young and you’ve already had your heart broken twice by people who couldn’t recognize what they had.” Louis says carefully. “But, H, look at me.” He stops again, and turns the younger man so they’re facing each other. “You’ve dated children, okay? I don’t know much about the girl, but this guy sounds like a boy. I’m not a boy. I do not get scared easily. And I’m not running away from you because of your job.”
“You’re a proper man, aren’t you, Louis Tomlinson?” Harry smirks, both of his hands cupping Louis’ cheeks.
He just needs to lean in.
“I really am.” He promises. “We still have a lot of get to knowing to do. You might be annoyed with how disorganized I am, and I might find something about you that pisses me off at some point. Maybe your friends or family will hate me. Maybe you will grow tired of me.”
“’S not gonna happen,” Harry whispers. “I just know.”
Louis rolls his eyes, amusement clear on his face.
“What I’m trying to say is that if this doesn’t work- if we don’t work, it won’t be because I got scared. Okay?” He squeezes Harry’s hips and tilts his head to the side, waiting for the kiss that is about to come.
“Y-yeah. Okay,” Harry says and closes the distance between them.
And this is it.
This is the first time Harry’s lips are touching Louis’ and his knees weaken because of it. It’s the first time Louis is feeling his heart racing because of the way Harry ever so gently molds his mouth to his, his plush lips hot against Louis’ thin ones, his hand languidly moving from Louis’ face to his nape, curling around the hair there. It’s the first time Louis runs his hands over this man’s back and pulls him closer, and asks for permission to kiss him deeper, opening Harry’s mouth with his tongue.
Tonight is the first time Harry responds quickly and enthusiastically, but still so, so carefully. It’s the first time he pulls Louis’ hair and squeezes his waist, and it’s the first time Louis tries and fails to hold back a small moan. It’s also the first time he bites Harry’s bottom lip and Harry whines into his mouth.
Tonight is the night of their first kiss. Under the sky, out in the open. Tonight is their beginning. And maybe it won’t work out. But maybe seeing if it does will be the best adventure ever.
“Lips so good I forget my name, I swear I could give you everything…” Niall reads it out loud. “You’re so smitten.” He mocks Harry.
“Shut up. It’s a fun song, not a romantic one.” The singer throws a pillow at him.
They’re at the studio and Louis is coming in a bit. Harry will kill his producer slash friend if he continues teasing him.
“It’s fun, and dirty. But there’s sentiment there.” He offers.
“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. “I want this album to be… Happier.”
“Yes, please, and thank you.” Niall gets up. “I quite like this chorus, it’s catchy. Did you write with anyone in mind?”
“Nah, not really.” Harry shrugs it off. “Maybe a few parts,” he confesses, cheeks heating up. “Most of it had been written when we met.”
“We who?” His friend asks. He’s such a fake.
“Louis and me.”
“Oh. And here I was thinking you’d written it for the boy you kissed on New Year’s Eve… Silly me.” Niall sighs.
“You’re an idiot.”
“And you love me.”
“Don’t know why…” Harry muses.
“What time is Louis coming?” Niall asks then.
“Think he’s on his way.”
“Can we record this and see how it sounds? Think Julian’s back from his break.” Julian is their sound engineer. Harry nods and gets up from the couch, taking a bottle of water to the box with him.
He’s excited for Louis to come. After their first date last week, Harry tried really hard not to be clingy, and he kept telling himself that he needed to give Louis some space otherwise the man would indeed grow tired of him. Harry doesn’t want to be the person who can’t give others space, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss Louis terribly.
It’s weird, he knows. How many people can say that after only fifteen days, a supposed stranger has become vital to them?
Harry didn’t even see it coming; he really wasn’t looking for Louis when he found him. But now that he has, he wants to spend every free moment he has - and maybe the busy ones too - talking to him: texting, calling, seeing him. And he gets it, it can be suffocating. So he tried.
But then, the very next morning, Louis sent him flowers. Flowers. He remembered Harry telling him where he lived, and he sent flowers to the building, so when Harry got home from dinner with his sister, his door man handed him a bouquet, and there it was, a small, hand-written note: may the flowers remind you why the rain was so important .
Harry’s eyes filled up with tears and he texted Louis at once. They haven’t stopped texting for one minute — only when Louis had meetings, or Harry was recording, like now.
He goes through the chorus three times, drinks some water, and does it two more. Julian compliments him on his vocals, and Harry thanks him with a smile on his face. Today is a good day, and he can feel it in his vocal cords. Sometimes he isn’t feeling very well to sing, but despite his anxiety, today it doesn’t seem to be the case.
Niall asks him to try something different on the bridge, so Harry closes his eyes and pictures the notes in his mind, trying to reach them just like Alice - his vocal coach - taught him a while ago.
He gets lost in it, and when he opens his eyes, after a couple of minutes trying to reach a highest tone, Louis is on the other side of the glass, laughing at something Niall’s said.
“Heeey!” Harry says loudly into the mic.
“I’m the one with headphones, damn it!” Julian complains, removing them.
“So sorry.” He apologizes truthfully. “Am I done here? Please let me be done here.”
Niall presses a button to talk to him.
“No, you’re not done. But come here, take a five.”
Harry quickly removes his own headphones, and walks outside, bringing his bottle of water again.
“Louis, this is Niall and Julian. Guys, this is Louis.” He introduces them monotonously, knowing that Niall already took care of any needed introductions.
“We’ve met.” Louis says. “Hi,” he smiles.
“Hi,” Harry doesn’t hesitate to lean over and peck Louis’ lips, then kiss his cheek. He’s really missed him, he wasn’t lying. He wants to kiss Louis’ entire face. “Did they let you in all right?”
“Yes. Apparently they follow me on twitter.” He chuckles.
“You guys are taking over twitter. I got mentions the other day.” Niall says.
“I didn’t.” Julian says.
“Because you and my sister are the only ones who ever listened to me and went on private,” he rolls his eyes.
“You’re boring,” the producer complains. Louis fist bumps him.
“You’ve just met!” Harry exclaims sounding borderline crazy.
“It’s a fist bump, mate, I don’t wanna have his babies, calm down.” Niall jokes.
“Yes, Hazz, it’s a fist bump.” Louis smiles easily. “Could be a hug too. You a hugger, Niall The Producer?”
“Love me some hugs, Louis Tomlinson The Car Designer.” And then they hug.
“Get over here,” Harry quickly pulls him by the arm and Louis stumbles into him, already cracking up a laugh. Harry hugs him tight. Louis kisses his jaw.
“Jealous much, Curly?” Louis jokes.
“No.” He mumbles.
“Yo, I’m gonna go outside to get some coffee and things to eat. We’re staying late tonight. You guys want anything?” Julian offers, getting up from his chair and retrieving his phone and wallet from a nearby table.
“Nah, I’m good, mate, thanks.” Niall says, turning off some equipment.
“A Detox juice, please.” Harry says.
“Ugh.” Julian shudders.
“LA really got to you, holy shit.” Louis whispers in awe. Harry simply rolls his eyes.
“C’mon, let me show you around…” He tells Louis.
There’s not much. Harry just shows him around the floor, telling him what each room is for, and eventually stopping at a wall with many framed pictures. He shows him the very first time his first album went platinum, then double, then triple platinum.
Louis asks questions about how his music has changed over these years, and if he’s more nervous now to put a third album out than he was when he put out the first one. Harry tells him that each time is different, but definitely not less nerve-wrecking.
When they pass by a restroom, Harry makes sure to go inside and snog him for some good ten minutes. Louis chuckles into his mouth, but minutes later has his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair, and is disheveling it the best way he can.
“‘M so glad you’re letting it grow.” Louis says into his mouth.
“I actually need to trim it,” he comments.
“Don’t.” The man tugs on it, Harry’s immediately aroused by the decisiveness on his voice. “I like pulling it.”
“I like having it pulled…” The singer says into his ear, licking the outer ridge and then biting the earlobe. Louis tugs his curls once again. “’S just a trim. You’re gonna have lots to play with still.”
“Alright then.” Louis says and kisses him one more time.
It’s good. Snogging is good. Harry’s always been a fan of French kisses; they always make his mind fuzzy and take him to a happy place where nothing else matters, and Louis is such a good kisser. He could spend hours exchanging spit with him and wouldn’t mind one bit; just getting to feel Louis’ tongue on his makes him insane, but right now, they need to stop.
Although it’d be really hot to get off here, Harry doesn’t want their first sexual experience to happen in a restroom of all places, so he tries to calm himself down, pecking Louis’ mouth and then proceeding to kiss his whole face, just like he wanted to do before. He feels silly. But silly feels great.
“Niall’s waiting for us,” he says eventually. “Talked his ears off ‘bout you, we should go give him some attention.”
“I’d tease you for having talked about me, but I won’t. You’re more courageous than I am.” Louis’ gives him a close lipped smile, running his fingers through Harry’s hair to try and contain the mess he himself made.
“What d’you mean?”
“Been avoiding my family for a few days.”
“Why?” He frowns.
“I’m not afraid of the fans I don’t know. But my sisters are another story. And my mother, Jesus!”
“You don’t want them to know about us?”
“I don’t know if you want them to know about us.” The man says carefully. “I don’t know what we are, we’ve literally been on one date before today,” he chuckles. “Some guys are bothered by meddling families.”
“I happen to love meddling families.” Harry smiles brightly.
“So you’ve confirmed to your family you’re going out with me then?” Louis checks.
“Well. No. I mean, Gemma sort of knows, but…”
“Yeah, it’s a bit weird, see?” He chuckles. “Nothing about this is normal, but I’d like to keep it as normal as possible.”
“You’re right,” Harry pecks his mouth again. “But uh, I was thinking… You said you’re taking your sisters shopping on Thursday, right?”
“Would they like to meet me, d’you think?” He asks. “Not- like. It doesn’t have to be as your boyfriend or anything, we- it doesn’t. Uh. Not like that, just.” Louis laughs at his confusedness. “They’re fans. And they’re your sisters. I’ll be free, so I just thought. Dinner? Maybe?”
“You’d do that?” Louis’ eyes widen. Harry nods eagerly. “They’ll probably cry. And make you sign things. Take selfies! You hate selfies!”
It’s Harry’s turn to laugh.
“Crying teenagers, signing things, taking selfies… Sounds like another day at the office.”
“I don’t want you to work when-”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Harry kisses his cheek. “I’m offering, aren’t I?”
“They’ll love it.” Louis says.
“You should come to dinner then. Don’t tell them where you’re going… Just go shopping, then come over to dinner.”
“Oh my God, that’s going to be awesome, their faces!” Louis chuckles. Then stops and frowns. “Also, can we get out of the restroom? It’s really nice, the marble is great, but…”
“Come on, Niall is waiting.”
Unsurprisingly, Niall and Louis get on like a house fire. Harry already expected that, and even more after their brief encounter when Louis arrived, but now they’re all sprawled out in Niall’s office trading uni stories and talking shit about beer at those parties, and the singer is just so glad that his favorite people are getting along.
Julian joins them for a few minutes, but then he excuses himself to go work on a song Harry’s already finished recording, and the three of them keep doing nothing for hours.
Even though Harry never really had his own college experience, he likes to listen to the two of them talking. Louis was actually properly nerdy, but still had some fun. Niall, on the other hand, Harry has no idea how he graduated.
The boys start to imagine how Harry would be in a university, and they quickly have a very standard, ridiculous personality for him. Niall decides he’d be extremely popular, and everyone would want a piece of him, but agrees with Louis when the man says that despite everything, he’d still be awkward and trip every now and then.
“I am a walking accident, that’s true.”
“How did you never fall on stage?” Louis asks.
Niall laughs loudly .
“He falls more than not.” His producer offers.
“I’ve broken my foot twice already.” Harry mumbles his confession.
“Oh, babe…” The man scoots closer and kisses his temple. Louis called him babe .
Without noticing just how needy he is, he turns his head and asks for a kiss with his mouth. Louis complies.
“You two really are annoyingly cute.” Niall comments.
“Thanks, Nialler.” Louis says, then kisses Harry again.
Harry can get used to it.
Louis picks his girls up at the train station around lunchtime. Lottie couldn’t come — and Louis suspects it’s because she wanted to be with her boyfriend —, but Fizzy and the twins are here, and he’s very happy to spend the day with them. After hugging all three of his girls, he sends their mom a selfie, to prove they arrived here safe and sound.
Jay texts back saying he owes her a visit, and Louis promises to go there as soon as possible. He just knows that, when he does, he’ll have to come clean about everything, because by the way he looks besotted every time someone mentions Harry, he just knows he won’t be able to hide anything anymore.
Not that there is much to hide at this point. Jay is respecting his space, which is why she hasn’t asked anything. But by now the girls must’ve shown her tweets and headlines, and, if they didn’t, someone might’ve commented on it already. After Niall posted a picture, all the rumors became stronger, and Harry doesn’t help, indulging everyone on social media.
Still, for all everyone knows, the two of them could simply be new friends who like to rile people up on the internet. It’ll remain like that until they’re certain of what they are. Despite having all kinds of feelings for Harry, two weeks barely guarantee anything.
Félicité doesn’t want to go home before going to the mall; according to her, she’s been saving money for months now for this shopping spree. Louis gives them allowances every month, and bonuses on Christmases and birthdays. It’s cute how they all put it together to buy their stuff, but it’s not like Louis won’t pay for everything today. He likes to spoil his girls, sue him.
“So, how’s school?” He asks with fake excitement.
“We’re thirteen, how d’you think school is?” Daisy sasses him out.
“I liked you better when you didn’t PMS,” the older brother grunts.
“She’s pissed because she kissed a boy and he didn’t kiss her back,” Phoebe tells her off. “He’s fifteen and gay, by the way. It rhymed!” She smiles then.
“Oh my God, SHUT UP,” the other twin slaps her sister.
Louis laughs out loud.
“Sorry, Daisy, but that’s really funny.”
“It’s not.” She replies.
“It is, because it’s happened to him…” Fizzy tells her.
So Louis starts to tell them the story of when he was in high school, extremely flamboyant, and yet a few girls wanted to snog him; there was this one girl, Hannah, who didn’t believe that Louis was gay, like, really didn’t, and fell in love with him at the age of fourteen. She believed they’d get married and have babies someday, that’s how clueless the poor girl was.
One day, after footie practice, she waited for him outside his locker room and kissed him square on the mouth; Louis all but screamed. She was so, so angry with him. He literally apologized for years. He doesn’t think she’s ever forgiven him.
The girls all laugh, even Fizzy, who already knew about it, and Daisy’s humor gets a little better.
First stop is Forever 21, like it always is. They have an order, you see. It all starts at Forever 21, where they buy “essential, everyday stuff.” Then, H&M, of course. When Louis blinks, they’re entering Burberry and Dior, and that’s where they spend less time, but a lot more money.
He doesn’t mind, though. In the afternoon, when they all go back home with smiles on their faces and dozens of bags full of things, all is well.
Louis isn’t one to rely on material stuff to be happy, however, he acknowledges what a shopping spree can do to a person. Thinking now, he should go on one. Maybe Harry will go with him one of these days.
Actually, speaking of…
“Girls, how tired are you?” He asks them, all thrown in different couches and armchairs.
“Exhausted. Why?” Phoebe’s the one to answer.
“Wanna take you somewhere for dinner. Think you can manage it?”
“Yes, please, where?” Fizzy perks up.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is it fancy?” She asks.
“Not necessarily. You should dress nicely, though.” He warns.
“We always dress nicely.” Daisy responds.
“Well. That’s settled then.” Louis smiles. “I’m gonna take a nap, because I’m knackered. Be ready at six on the dot. Deal?”
The three of them say deal at the same time, and it’s the cutest thing, really.
Louis goes to his room and texts Harry that they’re all set. Harry’s cooking lasagna, because it’s the girls’ favorite. Louis might melt into a puddle of goo if he doesn’t control himself, so he actually does take a nap in order to contain himself.
It isn’t a long drive. Louis knows that because the GPS says Harry’s flat is only twelve minutes away, but he is so fidgety, nervous, really, that it’s difficult to understand time passing. For him, the twelve minute drive feels more like twelve hours.
The girls keep asking him where they’re going — all very well dressed in their new clothes and wearing pretty makeup —, and it gets harder and harder to stall them each corner he turns. When he finally parks in front of the building, the questions get louder and more frequent, and he barely manages to brush them off, telling them to follow him inside.
“Mr. Tomlinson?” The doorman asks as soon as Louis approaches.
“You can go up. Penthouse, Sir.”
“Louis is fine.” He smiles. “Thanks.” Louis gets the golden card the man hands him, and leads the girls to the lifts.
The man is used to posh buildings, lives in one himself, but this is another level of posh . Millionaire posh, he thinks.
“Louis. Where are we?” Daisy asks him for the hundredth time on their way up.
“You’ll see…” He muses.
The doors open in Harry’s living room, and Harry’s already there: looking gorgeous in blue, skin tight jeans, a Rolling Stones t-shirt, barefoot and with a smile on his face. Louis’ heart skips a beat and he knows he’s starting to fall in love.
His sisters lose their shit. He already knew it would happen, but it’s funny to watch them looking at each other with screams about to escape their throats. Felicité actually hyperventilates, exiting the lift to rest her back against Harry’s living room wall. Phoebe and Daisy are unmoving for at least one minute, when Harry starts to worry and talk to them.
“Hey, are you girls okay?” He asks, walking past Louis and into the lift. “Come here, come inside…” The singer smiles.
They all talk at the same time. No one completes a sentence.
“I thought this would be a nice surprise, but if you’re all going to embarrass me, we can go back home…” Louis tells them.
“Lou, come on.” Harry looks at him. “You know, when I first met Ronnie Wood, I smelled his cologne and told him that had always been my dream.” He tells them. They chuckle nervously. “How about we start with a hug?”
Immediately, the twins close their arms around him.
“We love you so much,” Phoebe whispers.
“Like, so much.” Daisy completes. “Since we were really young.”
“‘Cause you’re so old now…” Louis mocks them.
“Is your brother always like this?” Harry asks Fizzy, looking over the twins’ heads.
“Worse.” She answers. “Holy fucking shit, you’re Harry Styles.”
“Last time I checked I was, yeah.” He chuckles. Harry kisses both Phoebe’s and Daisy’s cheeks, then moves on to hug Fizzy. She’s less awkward now. She hugs him back and says nice to meet you over his shoulder, and thanks for having us .
Harry asks if they’re calmer, and if they need some water.
“Please, feel at home.”
“This is too much,” Daisy whispers to Louis while they all follow Harry into his kitchen.
“This is a dream.” Phoebe agrees.
Lower than everyone, Fizzy says in Louis’ ear: “I can’t believe he actually likes you. I thought you were only internet buddies.”
“I know. I’m very lucky.” Louis tells her.
Harry gets the girls some water, then tells them he’s cooking lasagna. To their credit, they do try to be less and less awkward with time. A few minutes later, when Harry asks about their day and they go on and on about things they bought, Harry crosses the kitchen to go to Louis’ side.
“You mocked them, but at least they said hi to me, you know…” He muses, arms crossed and a stupid smirk on his face. Louis wants to punch him. In the mouth. With his own mouth.
“Well, I was trying to control the situation.” The man defends himself. But then he softens; he can never pretend for too long with Harry. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Harry leans in and kisses Louis’ temple. “Did you get to send in your report this morning?”
“No, I overslept. Need to do it today, still.”
“You can use my laptop. I’ll get it after dinner.” Harry offers.
“Are you two dating?” Phoebe asks. “There’s like- so much online.” She says as she scrolls through her phone.
“We thought it was all just a joke, but-” Daisy continues.
“The only joke is how much of an idiot Harry can be on twitter.” Louis mocks him. Harry pouts. “Look, you’re thirteen, and you’re almost sixteen, for fuck’s sake, so control yourselves.” He starts, looking at all of his sisters. “We met on the plane, as you know.”
“And then you embarrassed yourself…” Felicité completes.
“Well, I might’ve looked rather stunning doing it, because Harry liked me.” He raises an eyebrow.
“You did,” the pop star confirms. “And I did.”
“Oh. My. God.” Phoebe scream-whispers.
“You’re too much,” Louis talks to Harry, but his voice is so soft; he’s already so whipped.
“I made Louis ask me out,” Harry tells them. “We’ve gone on one date, then he visited me at the studio, and I thought it’d be nice to have you here, ‘cause he told me you guys were big fans.” He says. Louis is in awe of him. “It’s not a big secret that we’re going out, but we’re not advertising it either.”
“You clearly aren’t!” Fizzy exclaims. “How could you keep this from me? I was the one who told you about the damn tweet.” She accuses Louis.
“Believe it or not, my romantic life is not something I discuss with my little sisters.” He points out. “Now, you three, pay attention: I know you’re fans. But he is a person , all right? You are to treat him like a normal person, and because he’s very nice he’ll sign stuff later, if you want.”
“And take selfies. Even though I hate selfies,” Harry points out. “Because I am very nice.”
“You really are. Look what you have to deal with…” Daisy gives Louis’ a once-over. He refrains from flipping the bird at his sister.
“Hey, I’m awesome.” Louis says outraged.
“Baby, you light up my world like nobody else.” Harry quotes his first single to him, then pecks his mouth on his way to the oven.
Fizzy whispers this will take some getting used to , and yeah, Louis supposed it will. It’s a good thing that they have time then.
Harry was nervous before they all arrived. So nervous he almost fucked up the recipe, but gladly, everyone’s eating a perfectly cooked lasagna. The girls are a lot calmer now, but they still ask all kinds of questions. He answers them patiently, and asks them some in return. The conversation simply flows, and by the time they’re getting dessert, he even manages to joke with Daisy.
He doesn’t have a favorite. He really doesn’t. Each one of them has a different characteristic of Louis’, and finding them out throughout the night is a personal game he’s been playing. Daisy’s got Louis’ sassiness, Phoebe has his sense of humor. Felicité has the same amount of patience, which isn’t much — they even roll their eyes the same way.
When Harry asks them about Lottie, they tell him she likes his music too, but she’s a bit more contained now that she has a boyfriend, because she thinks she’s too cool for that stuff.
“She’s probably right, I’m a dork.” He laughs.
“A very cute one.” Louis offers.
“You’re very smitten with me, so you don’t count.” Harry tells him.
“I am not .” The older man fakes outrage.
“Who are you trying to convince?” Daisy mocks him. Louis shows her his tongue. They all laugh. Harry just wants to snog him, but refrains from it now.
After pictures and signed albums — that he’d previously separated for them —, they sit together in the TV room to watch a film. The girls choose the new Avengers movie, because no one is over that yet, and Harry’s screen is worthy of MARVEL, so that’s what they settle for.
Daisy and Fizzy sit together on a couch, Phoebe lies on another, and Louis and Harry share the bigger one. Harry grabs the remote control to turn off the lights, and before they know it, they’re already tearing up with Loki’s death.
Fuck you, MARVEL, Harry thinks. Loki was one of his favorites.
“Hey,” Louis says really low, trying to catch Harry’s attention.
“Hm…” Harry looks at him.
“Thanks for this,” he whispers. “Means so much.”
“To me too.” Harry says. “To me too, Lou.”
Louis leans in and kisses him soundly. Harry’s whole body shivers with his touch; he feels like he could cry, because he can’t seem to find another way to express how he feels every time they kiss. He opens his arms and hugs the older man, holding Louis even closer to his chest. He doesn’t let go until the end of the movie.
The first time they separate after they start going out is only a bit awkward. It’s one month and a half later, and Louis needs to go to Belgium for a final meeting with some mechanic engineers; Harry stays in London to finish writing a couple of songs with Niall. Then, when Louis comes back, after one week and a half, Harry flies to Stockholm, to meet with another producer about some other tunes.
The pop-star stays there for one week, then flies to Los Angeles for another, and there goes by almost one month without seeing each other. But that doesn’t mean they don’t talk. They do. Not every day, and not all the time, but they manage to text and even squeeze in a few calls.
Louis misses him. Bloody hell, he misses Harry a lot. The thing about not knowing where he stands, especially with someone who’s in the eyes of the media all the freaking time, is absolutely scary to him.
He goes out with Lottie and her boyfriend one night that they’re in town, and at least three men hit on him; Louis turns them all down, and still feels like he’s cheating, somehow. Does he look available? Is he even available? He voices his concerns to his sister, and she literally tells him to stop being a wuss and ask Harry where they stand.
But you see, Louis isn’t the kind of person who asks the other where they stand; he’s always hated the talk when it was given to him, and he’s afraid of how Harry will react if he does ask him something else. Harry belongs to the world, and the world needs him. The idea of tying him down makes Louis a bit sick. The idea of losing Harry makes him even sicker.
He downs two shots and goes to the dance floor by himself. Louis goes home alone, and goes to bed alone, and he doesn’t wish anybody else was there with him but the green eyed man who’s in a different time-zone at the moment.
“You,” Harry kisses his mouth the second Louis opens the door, “have impeccable timing.” His grin lights up Louis’ afternoon.
“What are you doing here?” The designer asks, frowning only a bit. He’s very much confused.
“Got in earlier than expected, wanted to say hi, maybe cook you dinner?” Harry shows him the supermarket bag hanging from his hand, and the wine carefully being held by the other. “We can ditch the wine if you’re feeling really bad.” Lower, he says: “You can ditch me too, you know, if you wanna be alone.”
“No!” Louis exclaims all too quickly. “Please, come in,” he pecks Harry’s mouth. “‘M glad you’re here.”
“Thought surprising you would be too cheesy, but oh well.” His cheeks acquire a rosy tone, and God has Louis missed this man.
“I… Might’ve missed you. You know, a bit.” He looks down when he speaks.
“Really? Didn’t seem like it.” The pop-star says. Louis’ mouth goes oh instantly. “Sorry, that was rude,” Harry then chuckles.
“Uh- no it’s. Fine?” Louis chuckles back, nervously. “Lemme help you with these.”
Together, they take everything to the kitchen and Louis helps him take the ingredients out of the bag and onto the counter.
“D’you wanna start now or hang out for a bit?” The man asks.
Harry checks his watch, Louis does the same, checking his phone. It’s still four p.m.
“Hang out?” Harry says uncertainly, then follows Louis into the living room. “Hey, Lou, ‘m sorry I was awkward just now.” The pop star sits by his side on the sofa. “Don’t know where that came from.”
“’S okay.” Louis replies truthfully. “I did miss you, you know? I just- didn’t want to suffocate you, I guess.”
“You were working, and… I don’t know where we… Stand, I guess.” He looks down, can’t say it looking at Harry’s face. “And I don’t know how to deal with… Uncertain situations? And like. I didn’t want to be too much. It’s why maybe I was not enough.” Louis tries for a smile. Harry’s eyes are intense.
“I wanted to call you every day.” The singer whispers. “I didn’t have time to call you every day, but even so I… Thought about it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” Harry agrees. “For two people who’ve been having such a good time together, we really should’ve talked about distances.” He laughs.
“I guess we didn’t want it to come.” Louis offers. “Which is naive, considering our jobs.”
“Yeah.” Harry scoots closer. “So, you really missed me then?”
“All the bloody time,” he rolls his eyes, pulls Harry by the neck.
“I missed you too. Missed this,” Harry whispers, then kisses Louis on the mouth. Yes , that’s what he needed.
Louis opens up instantly for him, welcoming Harry’s tongue as if it’s an old friend he hasn’t seen in a while. In a way, it is. Kissing Harry is addictive, the man finds out. The way he always presses closer and firmer, but keeps being soft all the same, the way his hands roam from Louis’ waist to his arm to his neck, the way their lips are always wet and slit with saliva, and the way his whole body shivers because of it.
He doesn’t think he’s able to give this up; doesn’t even want to imagine a day when he’ll have to. Louis presses his eyes shut and grabs Harry’s hair on his nape, drawing circles with his thumb by the side of Harry’s neck, where the singer likes best. Harry sighs into the kiss and slows it down, turning into slow, long pecks.
“Your head’s really hurting, isn’t it?” He asks, voice soft, fingers brushing Louis’ fringe. This up close, Louis can see Harry is real ; from afar, he always looks like a painting. The finest of the arts.
“A bit better now, but… Yes,” Louis rests his forehead on the man’s. “Harry, let’s talk before we travel again, yeah?”
“Please,” the pop-star whispers and Louis pecks his mouth once again.
“Good, now cuddle me and tell me everything about your writing sessions before we get started on dinner.”
Louis eventually falls asleep while Harry’s talking. The singer should feel offended, but his heart warms up as he watches the other man breathing, and he’s just so endeared by everything Louis that he opens an involuntary smile. Harry’s missed him. Harry’s missed him so much and he feels like an absolute idiot in love.
Rationally speaking, he knows he isn’t in love yet. For all they already know about each other - from texts and late night phone calls -, there’s still a lot more they need to learn. Harry believes that love is a construction; they need to built up to it, that way, it will last. And, as Harry has pointed out, he wants something that will last.
Obviously, it’s not very normal. All of his twenty-two year old friends are looking for flings, something fickle to pass the time, to enjoy their twenties at the fullest. And that’s good for them, Harry thinks, they should be doing that… But it doesn’t mean that the singer wants to. He’s said it before and he’ll say it again: he’s looking for someone to spend a long time with. Hard as it may seem, Louis seems to be right there with him.
Harry kisses Louis’ temple and gets up from the couch. It’s already six o’clock, so he figures it’s all right if he starts on dinner now. It’s a simple roasted salmon with potatoes and green beans, but Harry thinks Louis is really going to like it, considering the fact he’s obsessed with all of the mentioned ingredients. For real. The day Louis told Harry, over the phone, that he loved green beans, was the day Harry called his mother to finally let her in on what aren’t just rumors after all.
Anne wasn’t surprised, and she wasn’t angry with him either, for having taken two months to talk to her. She offered him motherly advice, told him to be careful but not cynical, to have fun and enjoy this phase, and to please introduce this incredible man to her whenever he is ready.
Out of his mother and his sister, Harry thinks Gemma is the scariest, which is why, maybe, just maybe, he’s gonna have Louis go through her first. Considering the fact that he already has Niall’s blessing ( “The best lad, mate, good on ya!” ), Harry thinks Louis is already halfway there to win everyone else.
Niall knows people. He can tell if a person is good or bad from a mile way. Call it sixth sense or whatever you want, but Harry trusts Niall’s gut more than his own at times. So if before they met, Harry already thought Louis was the best thing since sliced bread, once he introduced him to Niall and both men hit it off, Harry was left with no doubt that the car designer slash handsome man from the plane was definitely worth it.
Harry hears the man yawn from the couch as he opens the bottle of wine so it can breathe, then turns around to stare at a very confused Louis. When Louis comes to the kitchen, the salmon is already in the oven and Harry’s almost done with everything else.
“Why the hell did you let me sleep?” He asks, face scrunched and cuter than ever.
“You were hungover, destroyed.” The singer smiles. “Thought I’d let you nod off for a bit.”
“‘M sorry I slept while you were talking; I swear my mom raised me better than that.” Louis smiles softly and walks towards him. “Jesus, this smells amazing. My stomach’s rumbling.”
“Gonna be ready in a bit.” Harry says and then circles his arms around Louis’ waist, bringing him closer to his body, nuzzling his temple.
“Can I shower before we eat? I think I still smell of booze.” Louis’ groggy voice reverberates in the room.
The singer sniffles him behind his ear.
“Yeah, you could use a shower,” he teases.
“Asshole.” Louis slaps his shoulder, then kisses it. “Be back in a bit, Pop Star.”
Harry’s heart shouldn’t race at the mere sight of someone walking down a hallway, but that’s exactly what happens as soon as Louis turns around.
The other man takes fifteen minutes in the shower. It’s long enough for dinner to be ready and for Harry to set the table. He even manages to text Gemma and tell her where he is; he was supposed to go to his mom’s house these days, but as soon as his plane landed here, he only had one thing in mind, and that thing was to spend more time with the car designer.
When Louis gets back, he’s in tight dark jeans and a black shirt, hair a bit damp but also mussed, barefoot and more gorgeous than anyone Harry has ever encountered in his entire life. It takes his breath away for a second there.
“Fuck, you look gorgeous.” He exhales when Louis smiles at him.
“Felt like I should put on something other than a t-shirt and pants, ’s not everyday I have a pop sensation in my flat.” The car designer jokes as he sits at the table. “This looks, and smells delicious. Jesus, I’m hungry.” He chuckles.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to you in just pants,” Harry raises his eyebrows suggestively. “I hope the food’s good.” As he says it, he starts pouring himself some wine, and then he looks at Louis with a questioning expression, not sure whether he’ll be drinking or not.
Louis simply nods.
“There’s only one thing that’s missing is…” The other man starts, fumbling with his phone. “There we go.”
It’s a candle app. Louis finds a candle app on his phone, and places it on the table between them.
“Now it’s proper romantic.” He winks.
“You’re adorable.” Harry can’t control his words or the smile that spreads on his face. “How’s your hangover?” The singer asks as they start putting food on their plates.
He can’t help but notice how Louis is absolutely helpless when it comes to it, and how he also organizes everything so the salmon doesn’t touch the potatoes, the potatoes don’t touch the green beans, and the green beens don’t touch the salmon; it’s cute, it’s adorable , as Harry’s already put it. Maybe he’s losing it.
“Better, to be honest. I shouldn’t have drunk that much last night. ‘M not nineteen anymore… I keep forgetting.” The man jokes, then takes a bite of the salmon. “Fuck me, this is incredible.”
“Thanks.” Harry does not blush. “Did you use to drink a lot when you were nineteen?”
“Loads,” Louis confesses. “To be honest, I drank my way through uni, I’ve no idea how I even graduated.” He laughs. “But I’ve toned down a lot ever since, ‘m responsible now.”
“So why did you drink so much last night?” It’s sort of invasive, perhaps. But Harry wants to know. He wants to know everything. Please, don’t be creeped out.
“Went out with Lottie and her boyfriend.” He tells him. “They kept teasing me ‘bout how these men were looking at me and I-” Harry holds his breath. “I kept thinking about you. Which is insane ‘cause you were in Los Angeles for all I knew, working and partying and- You’re really young, really hot and really famous, Harry. And I’m-”
“Literally everything I can think and talk about. Like, all the time.” The singer confesses. It might be too much, to have this conversation at the dinner table. But they have good food and good wine, and fake candles, so, if not now, when? “I know I have no right to anything whatsoever, but the thought of men looking at you makes my blood boil. You know. Since we’re being honest.”
The other man looks quietly at him, a bit distrusting.
“Look, Louis-” Harry sighs, dropping his fork for a second. “We’ve known each other less than three months; our schedules are hectic, and we’ve been on what- five dates, since we met?”
“Yeah, and- you’re right, I’m all that. I’m young and I’m famous, and I know what I look like,” he blushes, he hates acknowledging things about himself. “And yet the first thing I did when I got to LA, before working and all, was call my contacts there.”
“You mean your fuck buddies? Just so we’re clear.” Louis clear his throat.
“No. I don’t have fuck buddies. I’ve never done this sort of thing.”
“Never?” The man’s eyes widen.
“ Never . I called my contacts, as in my friends , who seem to think my romantic life is a shame, and it usually is, and are always setting me up for blind dates, and told them I’d met someone.” He swallows hard, then takes a sip from his wine.
“I like where this is going…” Louis gives him a side smile.
“I told them…” The singer takes a deep breath. “That I met this older, hot guy, who mocks my taste in cars but loves my hair,” he smiles. “And that I was so obsessed with him I got scared he’d notice and run away to fucking Frankfurt the first chance he got.”
“Baby…” Louis coos, holds his hands over the table. Harry shivers all over. Louis has called him babe once, but… He’s never ever called Harry baby . He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who calls his partners baby . However, it fits. It fits so well that Harry wants to hear it forever. “Harry, I-” he takes a deep breath. “I want to finish this meal with you, then, with your permission, I want to ravish you in my bedroom. And then I wanna hear all about your obsession with me…” He jokes.
“Heeeey, don’t use it against me.” Harry fakes outrage.
“Never. Just in my favor.” The designer winks. Harry wants to kiss that smirk right off his face, so he finishes eating as fast as he can, puts everything in the sink (dishes can wait till later), and drags Louis to said bedroom, ready to be ravished.
When Louis first came to terms with his sexuality, one of the first things he thought was that he wanted to have a great, fun sex life. Porn has always given people unrealistic expectations of what sex should be and how it should be done, how it should feel , so for the better part of his teenage life, he was pretty much disappointed with how things turned out.
However, once he became more experienced, Louis started to realize that not everything had to be exactly how it was shown on the screens, and that sometimes you could try other things that would feel so, so much better. Sex is all about connection, whether it’s physical or emotional, it depends on the person, but the connection needs to be there.
Louis has had plenty of good sex in his life by now. Because he never fell properly in love, he always found physical connection to be enough - and it is, if he’s being honest. Good old fashioned fucking has a dear place in his heart. Still, when he closes his bedroom door and watches Harry Styles taking off his clothes, his chest and his whole body, really, is ignited by something different. Something more .
Harry’s teasing him and Louis knows it. The singer pulls him by the hand and makes Louis stop by the edge of the bed, crawling to the middle of the mattress and kneeling there, working slowly on his buttons, a huge smile on his face. Louis’ mouth waters as soon as he sees Harry’s stomach tattoo; he wants to bite and suck and leave a mark right there. But then the singer finishes opening his shirt, and suddenly the moth isn’t enough. Louis wants to put his mouth on his laurels too, beautifully adorning his hips - he wants the purple of his hickeys to overtone the black of the ink, and he wants Harry to whimper as he does it.
Harry lets the fabric of his shirt fall off, and motions for Louis to come to bed. The man takes off his own shirt and jeans too, and climbs onto the mattress in only his boxers, right after retrieving lube and condoms from his bedside table, staring at a half naked Harry up close. He’s gorgeous.
Louis kisses him thoroughly, also on his knees. He plays with Harry’s hair and his ears, slides his palms down his chest and when he reaches Harry’s belt, he kisses his neck and nips at the soft skin, finally earning a moan from the other man. Harry’s hands are a bit shaky in Louis’ hair and on his shoulder, but he still manages to caress him through his shivers, allowing Louis to open up his jeans and slide a hand inside his trousers, palming his hard-on through the fabric.
“Lou-” Harry says, voice low and raw and already destroyed.
“Pop-star…” Louis exhales softly too, a hint of a smile on his face, his hand never-stopping.
They kiss again and Harry himself removes his own trousers and pants. It’s a bit difficult, with their position, but soon he’s back on his knees, looking a lot more shy than Louis thinks he should, considering his body is a work of art.
“Louis,” he calls his name again, a bit more urgent than before.
Harry leans back a bit, places both hands on Louis’ shoulder. He looks right at his eyes, right through his soul.
“When I tell you that my reputation is nothing more than media perception, I’m not lying.” The singer says, not really looking him in the eyes. “I’ve slept with five people in my life,” Harry confesses. “Only one guy.”
“Okay…” Louis replies adoringly, so full of everything for this boy. He caresses his hair and the side of his face, forcing Harry to look at him.
“Be gentle with me, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry exhales. “I mean- at least this time ‘round.”
Louis chuckles and closes his eyes, kissing Harry once again for good measure. They start off slow again, but they gain momentum pretty quickly, full-on snogging when Harry forces his tongue into Louis’ mouth, hands roaming his back and sides. Louis is hard in his pants and his knees are hurting a bit, even though the mattress is soft, so he sits back and pulls Harry on top of him, straddling his thighs and giving the man space to do what he really wants.
Harry moans the second Louis touches his dick, dropping his head to Louis’ shoulder and kissing the spot messily, biting a bit too hard when Louis squeezes the head of his cock in his hands.
“D’you want me to fuck you, H?” Louis asks, taking his earlobe between his teeth as he wanks him furiously. “Or d’you want to get off like this?” Harry’s rutting against him nonstop, fucking into his fist and breathing heavily in Louis’ neck, fingernails scratching Louis’ back every now and then, making Louis a bit mad.
“F-fuck me,” he manages to say. “Fuck me, please.”
“So polite…” The man muses as he slows down on his strokes a bit, searching for lube that is around. “I’m gonna finger you like this, if that’s alright…” He checks, hand gliding up and down Harry’s shaft in an agonizing pace, holding him as tight as he can without hurting. “Want you to fuck yourself real good till you’re ready…” As he speaks, Harry gives him tiny little whimpers.
They’re both sweating already. Louis can feel his previously dried hair damp again on his nape, and he can feel Harry’s sweat everywhere. On his stomach, down his neck. He licks a stripe from his chest to his Adam’s apple, can’t resist biting there too. If it were up to Louis, Harry’d be all marked up by now.
“Can you do that for me, love?” The man asks him just to be sure.
“Yeah…” And his answer is almost an orgasm on its own.
Louis opens him up just like this, as promised, and he can’t remember the last time he fingered someone who wasn’t himself. This is not a common thing for meaningless hook-ups; most guys don’t even like it if it’s not with someone they know, Louis himself never really let people do it to him unless they were somewhat acquainted. It can be uncomfortable due to how personal it is, so he makes sure that it’s every bit as amazing as it can be when done right.
He lets Harry get used to him, and he lets Harry set up the pace. Nevermind that he’s got a huge case of blue balls inside his pants, Louis is enjoying this. He’s getting off on Harry’s pleasure, and that’s also a new concept for him when it comes to sex. Obviously, both parties should enjoy it equally, no matter with who you’re having it with. But the fact that Louis is yet to be touched, but is already too close to coming says a lot about their relationship.
Harry grabs Louis’ biceps and throws his head back when the third finger goes in, and for someone who’s only had sex once with a man, the singer rides like a pro. He tries different paces and always finds a way to dance a bit on Louis’ digits. The pressure there is good, awesome, really, but then he pulls Harry down by the hair, kisses him on the right side of rough, and tells him to lie on his side, please .
To Harry’s merit, he does try to give Louis a hand job before putting on the condom, but if the man gets any harder he is going to explode. As it is, he swats Harry’s hand away, placing the condom on himself, and acts a bit to bossy for his own taste - but, for the moment, it works. The singer lies on his side, as told, and Louis quickly fits himself behind him.
He slides a hand down Harry’s leg and hooks the back of his knee on his elbow, hitching it up as far as he goes.
“God bless yoga…” Harry comments, as he’s half bent, head on the pillow.
Louis chuckles and kisses his cheek.
“You ready, babe?” He asks in his ear.
Tonight Louis learns what physical and emotional connection together can do to a person. He enters Harry slowly; the singer is just so tight and so wet, the pressure on his own cock is almost unbearable. He bites Harry’s shoulder blade to suppress a moan, and hears Harry moan through it as well, biting the pillow case and arching his back towards Louis’ body.
It takes a couple of minutes for him to bottom out, but when he does, they’re both feeling so good that Louis doesn’t think words can describe it. It’s been a while for Louis, but he knows that this time, it’s not that that is making this special. It’s this person, this boy/man/angel who is with him, moving a few inches to let Louis know he can start fucking him properly, holding his leg up by himself in order to be able to hold Louis’ hand.
Louis settles with his right arm on Harry’s hair and the other one around his body, pulling him closer.
“ Move ,” Harry whispers while he circles his hips. So Louis does.
He pulls back and thrusts into him slowly, a long drag that earns them both long moans. Louis does it again, and then again, and once he feels like Harry’s comfortable enough he starts to fuck into him properly, adjusting his pace and pulling the singer’s hair in the process.
Harry revels in it; he fucks back and tightens his hole around Louis’ dick every time he goes in, turning Louis into a mad man.
They stay on their sides for a long time, but then Louis shifts positions holding Harry face down on the bed, spreading his legs and fitting in between really giving it to him, fucking him a bit harder and a lot faster, and the only thing he can register is his name being chanted like a prayer while his dick fits perfectly into Harry’s spread out ass.
Harry tries to rut against the mattress but Louis pulls his ass up. Once again, he closes his hand in a fist in his hair and Harry wails as his head is brought back, because there - Louis found his prostate again. With the other hand, Louis grabs the side of his hips and orders him to come just like this. Just on his cock .
The singer, Louis finds out, is nothing but obedient.
They hear their own ragged breaths and their skin slapping against one another, as Louis thrusts in and Harry meets him rutting back. They find the perfect pace, which is frantic and hard, and when Louis bends down to bite down Harry’s back, that’s when Harry lets go.
“Oh- uhn- fuuuuuck,” he moans out and then is silent, spilling onto the sheets.
Louis quickly flips him on his back and straddles his tummy, and then he’s not only wanking Harry through his orgasm, but furiously stroking himself to reach his too.
Harry scratches his thighs and says Louis , with his spaced-out fucked-out voice, and Louis comes on his tattoos, feeling the spasms on his whole body, falling into him right after.
It takes them a while to come to their senses. Harry’s pretty sure he’s never been fucked like this by his ex boyfriend, and he’s never fucked a girl like this either. He’s read about people who cry after sex, and he never quite understood it until now. He is overwhelmed . He’s not crying, but he could. He feels so good.
“Baby…” Louis calls him from the side.
“Yeah…” He rolls his head on the pillow, staring at the man he’s so, so in love with.
“I am,” Harry replies, turning on his side and pulling the other man close, slotting one of his legs between Louis’, caressing the naked skin from hips to higher ribs. He can feel Louis breathing on the tips of his fingers. “I am the best.”
Louis slowly leans in, and kisses him slowly.
For a while there the world doesn’t exist outside. They exchange long, deep kisses, and this is not going anywhere now - they’re both too tired still. But it’s good. It’s more than good.
“I used to have a lot of fuck buddies.” Louis tells him when they separate. He doesn’t let Harry disconnect their bodies. Still holds him close, hand on his upper arm. The man pecks his lips and talks again. “One or two for each city I usually visit. I didn’t- I didn’t go looking for them, we just sort of met over the years and… It was easier than finding random hook-ups. Was never a huge fan of that, even though I never had a problem with it.” He explains.
Harry lets him go on.
“When you said you called your contacts in LA… My first reaction was to ask if they were your booty calls, because the second I landed in Belgium, I called one of mine to cancel our plans.
I didn’t want to see him, and I realized that I… I didn’t want to see anybody who wasn’t you. Not in that way, at least.” He brings their hands together between their bodies, entwines his fingers with Harry’s. “I don’t really know how many people I’ve slept with, or at least exchanged blowjobs with. I’m sorry for that.” He shrugs. “But I do know that I…” He takes a deep breath. “I do know that I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life. And if you’ll have me as your boyfriend, I’m pretty sure I’ll keep wanting only you for a long, long time.”
“Lou…” The singer smiles despite himself. Louis brings their lips together again. Harry finds himself obligated to let go of his hand to caress his cheek. “You don’t need to apologize for not knowing. You had a crazy uni life and you have a crazy adult life, and I know how lonely hotel rooms can get, trust me.” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice. But past sadness. Harry is, right now, the happiest he’s ever been. “I want you to be my boyfriend so bad I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he confesses, chuckling a bit. “And I want it all,” Harry warns.
“I do too.” Louis replies softly. “I’m honestly dying for you to meet the rest of my family. Yesterday, all I could think about was that we should be double dating with my sister and her boyfriend.”
“Tell Lottie we gotta set that up.” Harry assures him, pecking his mouth. “My mom’s dying to meet you, by the way.”
“Oh my.” The man closes his eyes. “I hope she likes me.”
“She will. She will fall in love with you just like- just like I did.” It should be a big deal. It should feel like a huge confession. But it doesn’t. It’s natural. It’s natural, and it’s true.
Harry is in love with Louis. I just kinda happened.
“You’re in love with me?” His eyes widen in disbelief, hand covering Harry’s by the side of his face.
“I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you on our first date.” He muses, playful smile on his face.
Louis kisses him again.
“I’m so in love with you, Harry Styles.” He whispers to his mouth. “I can’t wait to show everyone just how much.”
Harry chuckles, pulls Louis in, connecting their chests.
“Me too,” he says. “Let me show you right now…”
For illustrative purposes, Harry sucks Louis’ dick like the most delicious popsicle, and Louis comes down his throat mere minutes later. It is glorious.
When Harry wakes up, Louis is already awake, sitting by his side typing quickly on his laptop. He notices the singer is awake and finishes what he has to, then places the computer on the bedside table.
“Morning, beautiful,” Louis says to him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Sleep well?”
Harry blinks slowly, opens up a smile brighter than the sun.
“Had a dream last night…” He tells Louis, yawning right after.
“Yeah? Good dream?”
“Dreamed you were my boyfriend.” Harry confirms his suspicions.
“That wasn’t a dream, silly.” Louis laughs lightly, lying on his tummy, half of his chest on top of Harry.
“It was not?” The singer fakes innocence.
“Nope,” he replies and flicks his nose, kissing him right after.
“It really is a good morning, isn’t it?” Harry asks, one hand running up Louis’ naked back and stopping at his nape while the other is almost disconnected from his body, lying heavily by his side. “What shall we do today?”
“Nothing? Please?” Louis will beg if he has to. “I mean, I have to work a bit, from home, but… We could just stay in. If you want to.”
“I want to.”
“Yeah?” He smiles.
“Yeah.” Harry brings him down for a kiss, and they snog for minutes on end, only getting up for breakfast.
Throughout the day, Louis works and Harry lazes around in the flat. He cleans Louis’ leaving room and does his laundry, then Louis takes a break and they watch a movie right before dinner. Harry goes home at ten p.m., just because he has a writing session scheduled at eight a.m. the next day across town. He leaves Louis with a hot kiss and a promise to see him soon.
Everyone says that the beginning of every relationship is like this: heaven, a sea of roses. But to Louis, it’s more than that. He’s learning how to settle in with somebody. Before, Louis only had his mom and occasionally Charlotte to vent to, but now he’s got Harry on the other line or at his door whenever he needs.
If he’s had a good day, he can talk to him about it. If the day was bad, he can hug him and make it all go away. Actually, sometimes, bad days are Louis’ favorites, because they always end, somehow, with him in Harry’s bed, in Harry’s arms, or at the studio, listening to him sing fresh lyrics he’s just wrote.
And it’s the same for Harry, he figures. Whenever Harry can’t get out of his head and is stuck with something album-related, Louis picks him up and they go out for a coffee run or a long ride on empty roads. They watch the stars and they talk about the universe or last week’s episode of Suits and then Harry writes something down - I just got inspired, he’ll say.
Louis meets Harry’s family on a Friday night, when Harry goes home for the weekend and insists that Louis go with him. Anne hugs him tight and thanks him for making Harry happy, and for a few seconds Louis is at a loss for words, because…
“He’s the one who makes me very happy.” He smiles genuinely, and Anne offers him a smile back. “He’s got your smile, by the way.”
“So I’ve been told…” Anne smiles once again.
Harry meets Louis’ family the weekend after that. Jay simply doesn’t accept the fact that she doesn’t know her son’s boyfriend yet, and invites them over on a Saturday afternoon for dinner. They sleep over, too, and by the end of the next day Louis figures his family is as in love with Harry as Harry is with them.
“Hey, Lou, what are you doing two days from now?” Harry asks him when they’re driving back from dinner with Lottie and her boyfriend.
It’s five months after they’ve started dating, and it’s the hundredth time they’re doing this.
“Turning twenty-six.” He groans, hitting his head on the window.
“And after that?”
“Going home for the holidays.” Louis answers, looking at him again. Harry’s driving with a smug smile on his face. This is never (always) a good sign.
“And after that ?” A grin finally spreads on his face.
“I don’t know, baby, what am I doing after Christmas?”
They stop at a red light and Harry looks at him. He’s just like a little kid who can barely contain his excitement. Louis loves him more for it.
“After Christmas we’re getting on a plane to Jamaica, where I happen to have a flat, and we’ll spend New Year’s Eve in peace. Also, you can bring whoever you want, I’ve rented a plane.” He finishes triumphantly.
“You have a flat in bloody Jamaica?” He asks, just to be sure. Harry nods. “You’ve rented a plane ?” Louis checks again. “Fuck me, you’re so rich.”
Harry laughs loudly at that.
“Yes, ‘cause you’re clearly struggling a lot.”
“I can’t afford to rent a fucking plane.” Louis responds a bit offended.
“Yes, you can,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Or did you forget my lawyer handled your new contract? Plus, you bought your mother a BMW for Christmas.”
“Shut up. She needs a big car for… Family stuff.”
“You haven’t answered me yet, Lou-eh.” His boyfriend reminds him, placing a hand on his thigh.
“Of course I’ll go to Jamaica with you. I’d go to the ends of the earth with you, to be quite honest.” He says matter of factly. Harry squeezes his thigh, then Louis places a hand on top of his. “And I don’t really want to invite anyone. Is it too selfish to want to spend this time just with you?”
“No, Lou. It’s perfect.” Harry smiles at him.
It’s settled then.
Harry only manages to ask Louis to move in with him after his birthday, a few days before he needs to go to Los Angeles to start on his promo and Louis to Munich for a week of meetings.
The problem is, neither of them can decide where to live. They’re both extremely fond of each other’s flats, and when it comes to it, they just want to sleep together whenever they’re in the same city. They talk about it over lunch, because Louis asked him to please really think about it — as if Harry had much to think. If he could, they’d be married with five children by now. (He’s kidding. Sort of.)
“We could find a new place, where we both like?” The designer suggests. “In central London, preferably.”
“I hate flat hunting, though.” Harry complains. “It’s really okay if you don’t wanna move, Lou. I just wanna live with you, I’m fine leaving my flat.” He shrugs.
“Are you sure , though? I’d totally move for you too, you know that.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to.”
“I think…” His boyfriend ponders… “I think maybe it’s too soon to say that, but I will anyways.” Harry waits. “I want to build a life with you. I want to have things that are ours . Finding a place together is a good start.”
“Yeah, baby.” Louis squeezes his hand over the table.
If someone told Harry at the beginning of last year that at twenty-three years old he’d be with the man he intends to spend the rest of his life with, he wouldn’t have believed that person for a second. But here they are.
“Let’s find a place together then.”
Harry falls in love with Louis many times, in many different places. Through it all, the world falls in love with them too, which, according to Louis, was to be expected - “We are very cute, Harold,” he reminds him. But it’s only six years later, when he’s on tour in Asia and Louis is back in London with their baby that Harry understands just how much true love can break a person and mend them at the same time.