Work Header

maybe you're my snowflake

Work Text:

Louis had never been big on following the rules. Even in school he was known for being the rebellious one.

So when a bunch of big men in suits, too young for the wrinkles scattered upon their faces, tell them about the contract that doesn’t permit inter-band relationships, he doesn’t really care. And why should he? It’s not like he’s gay or anything. Ok, maybe a little gay. But so what if he likes to appreciate the beauty of the male body, sue him. But then there’s Harry. Their relationship had always been different, but it was normal to them. They were just Louis and Harry. Best friends. Flat mates. Band mates. Nothing more.

Until one weekend filled with snow and skiing and hot cocoa and snuggles and yeah, maybe they had had a couple drinks, and maybe Louis kissed Harry, but that really didn’t matter because they were drunk. Except maybe it did. Louis didn’t know, and frankly didn’t want to be bothered with thinking about it. Because Harry was straight, he had to be. Sure, he’d never actually told Louis he was, but that's not really something that comes up in their conversation.

So when Louis accidentally finds Harry in bed on a Sunday morning, pumping his hard cock, moaning a soft ‘Lou’ through those goddamn plump, pink lips, he’s more an a little surprised. He fumbles with the door handle, trying to avoid the inevitable embarrassment of walking in on your best friend spread out like that. But then, Harry looks up and notices the figure of his fantasy standing just outside the door and their eyes lock and maybe Louis can’t actually force himself to leave.

The sit down and have the inevitable talk soon after. Harry can’t help but blush furiously, but Louis just finds it endearing. Harry tells him he thinks these feelings might have started sometime around week four, but he didn’t admit it to himself until their holiday together. Louis smiles, and kisses him right on the lips, because he can.

They lounge around the flat for the next couples of days, only leaving the bedroom when food becomes absolutely necessary. Louis doesn’t remember a time he’s felt happier, and he knows Harry feels the same. They are cuddling on the sofa, skin on skin, when Harry whispers that he thinks they should probably tell the lads. Louis knows Harry is nervous, and if he’s being honest, he is too. But someone has to be the strong one, and naturally, Louis knows he’ll do anything for Harry, so he agrees.

A petrified Harry and a brave-faced Louis tell the other boys about their relationship a week later. They had all (privately) begun to question the lingering touches and sidelong glances and lopsided smiles so it wasn’t a surprise to anyone. They share a group hug, and Louis can tell the stress has left his boyfriends shoulders almost immediately.

But when the big men in suits, too young for the wrinkles scattered upon their faces, call Louis and Harry in for a meeting, Louis thinks maybe they can rebel together. Maybe this girlfriend thing won’t be so bad.

But it’s been months and Louis has to go on another date and Harry goes to another bar and maybe Louis thinks this is it. It’s time for their big rebellion, and when he comes home to an empty flat and wakes up in an empty flat he knows it’s time. He can’t loose Harry, not now, not when he needs him most, because Harry is the only solid thing in Louis’ life. The only person he can truly be himself around. The only person who knows how to make Louis’ tea without asking, (besides him mum of course) and the only person who knows the secret as to why Louis keeps his school picture from when he was fourteen on the refrigerator door.

But when Harry doesn’t come home all day, doesn’t answer Louis texts or calls, he worries he’s already lost his rock, his reason to breathe. When he sees the familiar (but not familiar enough) eleven digit number flash across his screen, a wave of worry surges through his veins, and then he’s running out of the flat, not bothering to lock up or even put on a proper jumper. He speeds all the way there, and only when he parks does he realize he’s crying.

But not all hope is lost.

Louis sits in the lobby until the nurse calls out into the bleak, somber feeling room, "Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, please follow me down this corridor." The four of them are lead into a white room, with an all too pale boy laying on an all too uncomfortable bed. His lips are extra red, eyes extra green, and Louis can't help but rush to the bedside, grab the almost lifeless hand, and bring it up to his lips, kissing it softly. Harry smiles up at him, and Louis forgets that anyone else exists.

He’s released two days later, treated for a minor concussion and a broken wrist. Thankfully the drunk driver hadn't hit Harry’s side of the car, and Louis didn’t want to think about how his life would be flipped entirely on it's side if he had. So when they finally get back to the flat, and sit down on the couch with mugs of tea in their hands and smiles on their faces, Louis knows he’ll never loose Harry.

It’s December and the snow is falling and Louis remembers the weekend filled with snow and skiing and hot cocoa and snuggles and maybe a couple drinks. He can't help but smile at the memories, how Harry had fallen on his face numerous times, still convinced he was better than Louis. How they had built those stupid snow people outside of the lodge and had snowball fights until they could no longer stand up, cheeks red from laughing and snowflakes in their lashes.

It’s Christmas morning and before they head out to their families homes, Louis asks Harry if he would please make him a cup of tea. When Harry opens the teapot and sees a little black box, he turns around to see a blushing Louis down on one knee, right on the kitchen floor. And maybe Louis asks Harry to please promise to marry him someday, when life slows down and the big men in suits, too young for the wrinkles scattered upon their faces, give them permission. And maybe Harry tears up a bit when he hugs Louis, whispering his promise of "Yes."

Louis was always the rebellious one, but maybe love changes things.