The White Toymaker

Larry Stylinson Fanfic ~ Beloved

Master-post.

AN: Sorry to alarm you! Putting this up on request. Although I’m only just realising how long this fic actually was. I don’t know how you people read all of this… 

When they weren’t caught between photoshoots or performances, the One Direction boys often found it difficult to fill the free time they suddenly acquired. Even if it was no more than three days or a week, there was a strange sense of disconnectedness once they were left without a constant stream of activity.

A few months before the tour, they were given a brief amount of time to simply focus on the new rehearsals and relax before they would have to set off around the country again, but it left them with a lot of time in between to simply lounge about their flats. It wasn’t enough time to visit their families beyond some extra-long phone calls to reassure their worried mothers, yet it was too much time to go out partying every night to blow off some steam, so mostly – though their pop-star status’ twinged in indignation – they ended up messing around on the couch at home rather than doing anything exciting. As ever, they had spent so much time together over the past year that the five naturally gravitated to one another in any period of stagnation, so they found themselves holed up in Louis and Harry’s apartment on one particularly lazy afternoon, alternating between bantering and going back to their own individual devices.

Normally, Louis would be the one to try and rouse some sort of excitement out of his band members if they went too long without being social, but this time he was the laziest of all of them. As Liam tapped away on his laptop, answering some very desperate twitter pleas so the fans wouldn’t think he didn’t love them, the oldest member of one direction trudged up behind him with a heavy sigh and then flopped himself over the back of the sofa. He’d been complaining of a headache for the last hour to anyone who would pay attention, but he’d become curiously quiet about it during the last fifteen minutes.

“Liam,” Louis whined, hanging over the boy’s shoulders and letting his heavy head drop down. Liam reached up and wrapped his hand around Louis’ dangling wrist in a friendly grip, shaking it lightly. His eyes remained glued to the laptop screen as he did so; he was too well practised in entertaining the most changeable band-member to be properly distracted.

“Yeah, Louis?” he replied absently. Louis just gave a half-hearted groan under his breath and remained slumped there. “Oi, mate, you alright?” Another gentle shake. “Lou-eh.” When the boy still didn’t answer, he peeled his eyes away from the screen to glance at the unmoving body lying on his shoulder. Attention successfully diverted, Liam turned within Louis’ loose grasp and seized both his arms. Carefully, he dragged the lithe teen over the back of the couch before unceremoniously depositing him in the couch cushions, where he sank with sloth-like apathy into his ungainly position.

Liam poked his head forward to look at Louis’ face, taking in the sour colour of his cheeks and the circles beneath his eyes. With a sigh, Daddy Direction rested the back of his hand on Louis’ forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin. Louis groaned and batted irritably at the action and that more than anything alerted his band mate to the seriousness of the situation; Louis never refused a friend that wanted to be touchy-feely.

“Alright,” Liam said resignedly, and set aside his computer before getting to his feet. “How’s your stomach?” he asked.

Louis peeled one eye open to peer cautiously at the boy standing over him. “It’s fine,” he said warily.

“Good.” Without any more ado, Liam leant down and slipped his arms around Louis’ waist before slinging him over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry, revealing the reason behind his earlier question. Louis cried out once in surprise before he simply gave up and accepted his position, letting his body relax. “Zayn, Niall!” Liam called as he carried Louis back toward the bedroom. They looked only mildly surprised to see Liam carting Louis like a sack of flour because, in all honesty, it wasn’t that unusual. The only discrepancy was the fact that, for once, Louis looked lifeless as he hung there. He managed a half-hearted, upside-down wave as they came into his line of sight before stilling again.

“Louis’ sick,” Liam explained as he pushed through the bedroom door. Instantly, concerned crossed both boys’ faces. “Better check on Harry.” It was well known within the band that if one of them caught any sort of flu, the other was almost definitely affected as well; they simply spent too much time within each other’s personal space for there to be any other outcome.

Sure enough, as they popped into the next bedroom they found Harry strewn out on his mattress with a pile of tissues on his nightstand, an open bottle of flu pills sitting next to it. He gave a lethargic greeting as they entered, and then turned his face into the pillows.

—

It didn’t take long for Louis to start going mad with boredom. Even bedridden his irritation was a force to be reckoned with, and so they took turns in trying to keep him company. However, even the eldest member’s charming, all-loving personality couldn’t convince the other boys to remain by his side 24/7 as he alternated between begging to be let outside and falling asleep mid-complaint, and so he was reduced to clinging to his mobile for dear life and calling his friends whenever the monotony started to get to him.

He called Harry most of all, despite the fact that there was only a single wall that separated them, but as their voices both failed too much to carry on any conversations that required them to address anyone further than a foot away, that soon failed as well.

Finally, the three healthy members of one direction made a unanimous decision that solved all of their problems.

—

Harry lolled lazily in his friends’ arms as they carried him out of his room, still wrapped tightly in his duvet, and even had a slightly smug smile on his face at not having to walk at all. Had he been feeling more up to it, he would have had far too much fun with the situation. As it was, he settled on holding the smirk on his lips and consented to keeping his limbs in check while Zayn, Niall and Liam all held onto a different part of his arms and legs to cart him across the floor.

It took some manoeuvring, but they managed to take everything he needed in one trip, piling it on top of the sick, curly-haired boy as they hauled him through Louis’ bedroom door. It was worth it to see the boys’ paper-coloured faces light up as Harry was carried over the threshold like an old, sickly member of the royal family.

“Harry!”

“Louis!”

Their gleeful exclamations sounded more like the hoarse mewling of a pair of alley cats, but their happiness was genuine as Harry was dumped on the bed next to his best friend, duvet and all. His furry hat, tissues and other essential supplies rolled off onto the mattress with him.

“There you go,” Niall said in a satisfied voice, dusting his hands. “Now you’re happy, right?”

“And you’ll stop calling me at three in the morning?” Liam added. Like Niall’s question, his request was directed at both of them. He was beginning to look peaky himself, simply from a lack of proper sleep.

The two nodded silently as they struggled to pull Harry into a more comfortable spot on the bed, arms and legs flailing equally.

The others exchanged a glance and then shrugged. “Don’t take this personally,” Zayn said, heading for the door, “but I think we’re going to leave you guys here for a while. I don’t really fancy the idea of getting whatever it is that’s got you guys in here.”

“All right,” Louis croaked, finally relaxing into the covers. Harry was still bundled up against the headboard in his doona, curly head poking out of the top of his cocoon-like covers, while the older boy was half-sprawled on top of his cushioned body. His head rested somewhere where Harry’s chest would have been. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” came Harry’s muffled voice as his head disappeared again.

“Love you guys,” Louis added pitifully, and then collapsed dramatically once more, head canted to the side as he drew noisy breaths through his parted lips.

—

They spent a few days catering to the needs of the two sickly boys, a task which was made much easier by the fact that they were both stuck in the same room together. Before they might have been forced to duck back and forth between the rooms every minute or so to make sure that they weren’t making a mess of their rooms or rasping for help, but now they had each other to keep their minds intact and the other lads only needed to check in on one room rather than two. Truth be told, they spent more time sleeping than anything else, so there was very little to do.

Nevertheless, they kept their distance until a good three days later, when they decided it was time to rouse them from their hibernation.

Zayn poked his head in first, scoping out the room for signs of life with a cautious expression on his face. When he was not immediately greeted by the sound of snoring or of laboured breathing, he dared to lean in a little further and then gave the all clear to the boys behind him. They all crept in as quietly as possible and then stopped dead at the sight that awaited them inside. Identical grins bloomed on each face.

Harry was awake – finally – and was sitting upright in the bed with his phone in one hand as he skimmed through something, tapping the keys intermittently. His other hand was resting in Louis’ hair, slowly stroking through the strands; a position made possible by the fact that Louis was fast asleep with his head leaning on Harry’s chest, face buried in the light grey shirt that his best friend had donned for the rare occasion. What they could see of Louis’ expression was completely slack and peaceful, and did not change at all as they snuck in on their tiptoes and perched on the edge of the large bed.

Harry noticed however, and his lips split in a sheepish grin at the noiseless cooing and wide, loving grins that spread over the faces of his friends as they looked at the pair.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he cautioned them quietly, biting his lip to stop himself smiling as they continued to tease him. “I don’t want to wake him up.”

“How is he?” Niall asked, drawing his knees up onto the bed.

Harry glanced down at Louis’ face. “He’s been sleeping for hours, now. I can barely feel anything below my ribs anymore.”

“We can help move him, if you like,” Zayn offered, shifting forward with his hands outstretched. Harry stopped him before he could really get in any position to help.

“No, that’s alright. Just leave him.” At their renewed bout of sappy smiles, Harry muttered playfully, “Oh, shove off.”

Despite their teasing, everyone was content to leave Louis napping peacefully in Harry’s arms. The curly-haired boy consented to the treatment long after anyone else would have given up and sat up, not moving until Lou finally opened his eyes again to blink confusedly around the room.

He lifted his messy head of hair off of Harry’s chest, making the younger boy feel a sudden rush of tingling blood in his stomach as sensation returned to his numb torso.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Harry teased him gently, shifting over slightly so that Louis could sit up. Louis didn’t make any move to do so, however, and simply leaned his head into his hand as he sank into a new part of the mattress. “How are you feeling?”

Louis made non-committal noise in his throat. Then, his eyes brightened a little. “You’re looking better,” he said in approval. His voice was less rough than it had been for the last few days, and Harry allowed himself a smile at that. “How long was I asleep?” Louis asked, glancing around at the soft light that was pouring in through the window.

“It’s about five o’clock now,” Harry told him.

“In the morning?!”

“No, evening.”

Louis’ eyebrows went up, but he didn’t bother denying it. He still felt tired, impossibly, and when he told that to Harry the younger boy tugged the light sheet back over his body and told him to go back to sleep.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Harry assured him.

“You’ll get sick again if you come in here. Get out while you still can,” Louis intoned dramatically, clinging to the pillow he had just shoved under his face and staring up at Harry with horrified eyes that were rimmed with light grey shadows.

Harry could do nothing but laugh as he slipped out of the door.

Still, when the time came and Harry had sufficiently supped, showered and stretched his legs for a good five hours to make up for lost time and feeling, he dutifully returned to the sickbed and as he had promised. The other boys had remained behind as well, doing their best to clean Louis up and get him smiling while Harry went through the motions. In the end, they ended up crashing in the apartment despite living with easy walking distance of the front door. Niall and Liam took Harry’s bed for the night, while Zayn – who had become more and more nocturnal over the last few weeks – kipped on the couch with the TV volume turned low so as not to wake anyone.  

Harry slipped under the freshly changed sheets of Louis’ bed and lay against his friend’s back in a wordless offer of comfort, whispering a quick goodnight and privately hoping that Lou felt better when they awoke.

—

—

—

 

Louis was ill.

 That much was all he really knew for certain. He could feel the waves of heat that were radiating out from his body, like he was standing in front of a space heater, and yet his skin was standing up in gooseflesh at the same time. His head felt like it was swaying on his neck, dizzyingly heavy and hard to keep straight. He could barely focus his eyes on anything in the dim room, and yet all sorts of shapes were cropping up in front of his vision – things that shouldn’t have been there, yet were.

“Harry?” he called out, feeling his tongue flop dryly in his mouth. His hand searched through the covers, but he couldn’t find anything. In his fever-addled state of mind, he didn’t think to look on the far side of the bed; he didn’t realise that he had been turned around on the mattress so he was facing the wrong way. If he had reached a little further he would have come into contact with Harry’s wrist, but he didn’t know that at the time. All he knew was that he needed some help, or some water, because he could barely remember his own name anymore. He tried some of the others that came easily to his mind. “Zayn? Niall? Liam?”

His voice sounded strangely liquid and bent to his own ears, like it was taking time to travel from his mouth to his eardrums to his brain.

Still burning, he resolutely kicked off the covers that bound his legs like a shroud, revelling and shivering in the cool air that wafted over his sweaty legs. It took some effort and it made his head spin, but he managed to push himself off of the edge of the mattress and onto his feet, where he stumbled and staggered over to where he thought the door was, feeling around in the dark. He had to stop for a moment, head pressed against the cold wood of the archway, before his questing fingers came into contact with the hard, icy steel of the door handle and he pushed his way out into the rest of the apartment, walking on numb feet that could barely hold him.

A few meters away, Harry stirred and wriggled in his sleep as the soft light of the living room lamp flooded through the open door. He lingered on the edge of sleep, clinging to the lovely dream he was having about owning a bar called ‘one direction’ with his mates, with a karaoke machine in the corner that played the music they liked, and their signature cocktail that had… that had vodka and…

He shifted again, moaning a protest in his throat as the details began to slip away and awareness began to creep back, brushing the fuzziness out of his sleepy mind. He felt a moment of disorientation as he awoke in a bed that was not his own, but that vanished the instant he recognised Louis’ room – and, more importantly, realised that Louis was not in it.

“Louis?” he called in a voice that was thick with sleep. It took only a few seconds for alarm to descend. “Louis?!” He rolled off the be and padded out through the open door, whipping his head around desperately. He rounded the corner of the hall just in time to see Zayn shooting up from the couch, pure panic in his face.

Louis was swaying in the centre of the kitchen, his feet unsteady beneath him and his hands trembling with effort as he tried to turn the cold tap on the sink. The other boys were awakening from their stations now – he could hear them in the other room – but his focus was only on Louis as he and Zayn rushed forward, hoping to catch their friend before he collapsed.

Zayn got there before Harry did, and he just managed to seize Louis by the elbows before the older boy’s knees gave out. Louis’ head lolled as Zayn supported his weight, and they could see only the whites of his eyes as they rolled back in his head.

“Jesus,” Zayn muttered under his breath, fear bleeding into his voice, and he gathered Louis’ thin body in his arms like he was handling a precious artefact, so carefully that he could have been made of glass. With Louis’ fine cheekbones standing out in his face it almost looked like he was. He looked so small.

Harry quickly caught him on the other side, supporting his weight more evenly.

“Jesus Christ,” Liam said as he came upon the scene, echoing Zayn.

“Fucking hell,” Niall swore.

Together, they half-dragged, half-carried Louis into the nearest seat and gently guided him to lean back. There, the Doncaster boy dizzily listed in the chair and tried to peer at them all with bleary eyes.

“He’s burning up,” Harry said worriedly, pressing his hands to Louis’ face. Louis turned gratefully into his palm, seeking the cool temperature, and then swallowed thickly. It was a painful sound, and one that they all heard.

“We have to get him to the doctors,” Zayn said urgently. His expression was twisted in unabashed fear, something that was unusual for the boy, and his brown eyes were so wide in his face that the whites were showing almost all the way around.

“I’m fine,” Louis mumbled, fooling no one.

Liam’s expression was taut with concentration, but he exuded a strange calm as he looked up and met Harry’s worried gaze. “Can you get the car keys?”

It took a moment for Harry to remember how to nod, and then he leapt to his feet. As he stumbled off, Liam turned to the others. “We need to get him some clothes. If you can fetch some socks and shoes as well, that’d be great.” They didn’t question Liam’s instructions as they, too, hastened to follow them. Once they were gone, Liam pushed the damp strands of hair away from Louis’ forehead with heart-breaking concern, smoothing the anguished lines from his band mate’s brow.

“Can you hear me?” he asked clearly, looking into Louis’ dazed eyes.

“Yeah,” the older boy responded. “Course I can. I’m not deaf. I just… I think I’ve got a bit of a fever.”

“We’re gonna take you to the doctors, alright?” Liam reassured him soothingly, tugging on his hand a bit. “I’m just gonna make a few calls, let everyone know what’s going on so you don’t cause a riot. Just sit tight for a few minutes.”

After receiving an acknowledging nod, Liam wasted no time in going to the phone to call up their managers first, so they didn’t get chewed out for leaving on mass without warning. He stood by the landline, quickly punching in the right numbers.

In his bedroom, Harry was desperately clawing through Louis’ discarded trousers on the floor, digging through his pockets in search of the keys that he needed. His efforts were hindered by the slight shakiness of his fingers.

In Louis’ bedroom, Zayn and Niall were throwing different clothes aside, caught in a ridiculous moment of indecision as they tried to imagine which garments they were supposed to bring – light, to cool his fever down, or heavy so that he didn’t get even sicker on the way? And would Louis make them go back for more if he didn’t like the outfit they’d chosen?

And in the kitchen, Louis stumbled as he got to his feet, walking haphazardly toward the smooth porcelain basin that would give him the water he sought. He hadn’t waited five seconds after agreeing to Liam’s instruction not to move before he broke his promise, but he couldn’t help it. His hands felt strangely large as he pawed at the blessedly cold stainless steel taps until they turned all the way around and lovely clear water flowed into the sink. He didn’t hesitate to dip his head and drink straight from the running stream of liquid. It splashed over his cheeks and chin in his effort to take in measured gulps, but as the cool water eased the dizziness in his mind he couldn’t bring himself to care about that.

Once he withdrew, Louis was surprised to find he could think a little more clearly. He was able to stay on his feet long enough to make it to the opposite wall in order to seize the towel hanging off of a hook so he could dry himself off. He pressed his face into the soft folds of the fabric and breathed softly for a few seconds.

“Lou!”

It was Liam’s voice that prompted him to emerge from the towel again, and Louis lifted his weary head to find his band mate on the other side of the counter, looking at him with concern written all over his face. The phone was cradled against his ear, but he seemed to have forgotten about it.

Harry’s voice emanated from the hall before he even came into sight. “Is he okay?”

Within a matter of seconds, the others came popping out from behind the hall at the same time, each clutching some kind of article of clothing in their hands. The sight was so oddly comical that Louis burst into surprised laughter and had to catch onto the sink behind him to keep from collapsing as he sniggered.

The others exchanged worried glances at Louis’ strange behaviour, and a few nervous smiles appeared on their faces.

“You alright, Louis?” Zayn asked carefully, looking at him closely.

The older boy nodded exaggeratedly, and then set the towel on the bench with one seemingly smooth movement. “I’m fine,” he said, a laugh lingering in his tone, “I just need to sit down for a bit. Feeling a bit…” He waved a vague hand instead of elaborating on what he was feeling, and then took a step forward. Instantly, Harry broke away to pull out a chair so he could drag it over for Louis to sit on.

The older lad managed a few more steps with ease, but then he paused like he had suddenly remembered something very important. His eyes unfocussed, his expression wavered and his mouth fell open a little.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis murmured dizzily. Then, before they could move to catch him, he began to fall.

—

They all froze at the deafening, terrifying, gut-wrenching crack that sounded as Louis’ head hit the corner of the bench-top. It was an awful sound, one that hit you in the right in the ribcage and made your stomach turn over and it echoed throughout the entire room before returning to their ears again. It was the sound of abused flesh, crunching bone, and it was the sound of their friend’s skull hitting hard, immovable marble. It was immediately followed by the inevitable sound of Louis’ light body hitting the tiles with a soft smack. Where the first noise had immobilized them, the second spurred them into action.

“Oh, shit,” someone swore as they all sped forward in one movement. As one, the group fell at their fallen comrade’s side. “Shit, shit, shit. Is he alright?”

“Louis! Louis, can you hear me? Turn him over.” Four pairs of hands carefully rolled Louis off of his stomach and onto his back. Someone thought to rearrange his legs, straightening them out so he wouldn’t sprain something when he woke.

“Louis?”

“Fuck, he’s bleeding.” The fine brown strands of Louis’ hair were slick with blood on the underside of his head. It was spreading slowly over his skull, matting his hair to the side of his head. Already, the fresh patches were quickly becoming soaked through. It was hard to tell where the wound itself was, but there was a dark, dark red smear on the side of his skull, above his ear. “He’s really fucking bleeding, guys.”

“Louis!”

“There’s blood on the floor, too.”

“Christ, we need to get him to a hospital. Someone call an ambulance! Now!” One body scrabbled up from the group and broke away. A moment later, the beeping of the phone sounded over the erratic thumping of their hearts.

“It’s all over the fucking bench, too.” A stream of unintelligible expletives flooded the bloody kitchen.

Palms and clothes were smeared with crimson as trembling fingertips brushed at Louis’ white face. “Louis, wake up.” Foreign tears splashed onto the unconscious boy’s cheeks, smearing with the blood and sending it dripping down his neck in thin, diluted rivulets. “Louis?” His name broke as it hit the air, and a muffled sob sounded in the same moment from the other side.

A new pair of kneecaps slammed into the tiles again. “They’re on their way.”

Then, suddenly, a white towel appeared amongst the mess, smothering the bloody side of Louis’ face. It was the same one Louis had been using only moments before. “We have to stop the bleeding until the paramedics get here.” The voice was shaky, but determined not to be so. “We have to stop the bleeding.”

“Louis?”

“Press here, keep the pressure. Move your - move! Here!” One hand became four as everyone held the towel against the wound, keeping it there as if they could hold Louis together through sheer force of will. The cloth soon became damp beneath their fingers, as did the boys’ cheeks. Their shaky, terrified breaths stirred Louis’ sticky hair as they hovered above him.

“Louis?”

“Fucking hell, he’s not moving. Why isn’t he moving?”

“Come on, wake up, Lou.” Another voice broke. “God, come on, Louis. Open your eyes, come on, man.”

A tiny whisper sounded beneath the panic, low and frightened. “Louis?”

“Louis!” The name was echoed a moment later, louder, before the voice that spoke it broke down in messy sobs.

“It’s all right; he’ll be alright, guys. Just keep the pressure there. The ambulance is coming. He’ll be alright.” The hand on the base of the towel rearranged it slightly, shifting all other hands as he tried to find a clean part of material. He kept it tilted down as he moved it, hiding the wet, red underside from view.

“Louis, please.”

“Jesus, is there supposed to be that much blood?” Fear had the smooth voice climbing the octaves in sheer hysteria. In the background, another sob sounded, and callused fingertips contorted around the folds of the towel beneath them as their owner looked away. Darker-hued fingers brushed at the blood dripping over Louis’ eyebrow, keeping it from slipping into his eye. The movements were as jerky as the voice that spoke. “I called the ambulance, why aren’t they here yet?! How long can it take? How far away are they?”

“They’ll be here! Just wait!”

“Louis!” Suddenly, long fingers wrapped around the moist collar of Louis’ shirt, gripping it tight in abject desperation. The near-inaudible voice became petrified and urgent. “Louis! Wake up! Don’t -” Fingernails dug into their own blood-slick palm, overlapping and digging out new scarlet welts. New blood mixed with Louis’. “Don’t – Just – No!”

Instantly, loving hands moved to pry their friend out of his death grip, a new frenzy rising in their throats.

“Harry –”

“Let him go, mate, you’ll hurt him!”

“Louis!”

Suddenly, their frantic voices stopped dead as there was a new noise amidst the chaos, one that made every single boy pause to listen to it. It was barely worth noticing, really, as it was so quiet; Louis hand barely made a sound as it fell limply from his side and landed on the tiles, unmoving.

—

—

—

 

It took a half hour for them to get to the St Mercy’s hospital after the ambulance took Louis away, with traffic and the tram and pedestrians. Harry and Louis had undertaken longer journeys just for a trip to Milkshake City while they were on tour, and yet it seemed that the road seemed to stretch on forever for that trip. They were all crammed in the van together, and even though there was more space than there usually was with only the four of them, they were practically sitting in each other’s laps.

Niall was pale and unblinking beneath Liam’s arm, his head halfway turned in the other boy’s neck, and the tears that had started falling in the apartment had still yet to cease coursing down his face. Liam had his cheek resting on Niall’s blonde head, but his eyes were far away. He still held the bloody towel clamped in one hand at his side. He had forgotten how to release his fingers so he could drop it. 

Harry and Zayn were ensconced in the chair beside them, half curled around each other, but Harry had turned out of the embrace somewhat so he could see out of the front windscreen. He was leaning forward slightly, as if he could somehow speed them along to their destination. His hands were still damp with his best friend’s blood, and there were smears of it on his face. His eyes were the only things that were dry about him, yet they were hauntingly empty.

“Do you think…?” Zayn’s voice was loud in the stunning silence of the car, and he stopped himself immediately, unable to finish the needless question.

Liam glanced at him over the top of Niall’s head. “They know what they’re doing,” he said in a low voice. He had remained the most optimistic, having had the most experience with hospitals during his childhood, but even he was having trouble keeping an upbeat tone. He had managed fairly well until the moment Louis had actually sped off in the ambulance, the sirens fading into the distance with each passing second. His efforts faded once they took his unresponsive friend out of his hands, pressing oxygen to his mouth and feeling for his pulse beneath their fingers. Still, if nothing else, he could manage a few encouraging words for his friends. “They’ll help him. He’ll be okay.”

Niall had to bite his lip, dropping his head even further to hide his face. Harry didn’t say a word.

—

It doesn’t happen like it happens in the movies. There is no leaping into the back of the ambulance and holding your friend’s hand while you sped off together, whispering promises and telling them how you’ll be with them the whole time. There’s no tearful exchange. There is no cut-scene to the hospital, where you are suddenly at his side again without any pause in between, and he would be sleeping peacefully with a fluffy bandage around his head. There are no instantaneous reunions, no long gazing at each other as he drives away, no goodbye at all.

One moment, Louis was staggering drunkenly through the kitchen, fever-high and laughing, and then the tiles were splattered with blood and their best friend was having his ribs cracked in CPR received from EMTs that barely had the time to throw two words over their shoulders as they carried him away.

There is no certainty, no reassurance.

Instead, there are calls to Jay and babbled explanations that come out in a rush of tears and sudden, horrible realisation that has the phone being passed off to anyone who can wrap their fingers around it. There are calls to management, who send out teams to the hospital like they can do something to help him with iPads and publicity, when they don’t even know if Louis’ heart is still beating. There are long waits in between. There are lines and queuing and nurses who were too harried to have the information ready for them on their arrival and too restricted by regulations to give them the news they sought. There are waiting rooms and tears and vending machines that give out the wrong snack and incite the urge for random destruction.

Nothing happens yet it still seems to rush past like a train speeding right by their ears, and Harry thinks he can still hear the sirens blaring in his ears and what could have been the sound of the defibrillator being charged before the doors of the ambulance slammed closed in his face and he’s left standing with the shouting still ringing in his ears and Louis’ blood dripping off the ends of his fingertips. 

Then, all of a sudden, Harry suddenly realises he’s standing in the middle of a blue-and-white hospital room. All of the noise goes unbelievably silent, and he finds himself lowering his body to the scuffed, linoleum floor with two shaking hands that give out before he can hope to sit down without calling attention to himself.

Suddenly, he’s sitting in the middle of the quietest room he’s ever been in waiting to hear if his best friend really did die in front of his eyes, and his mind suddenly flashes back to the cocktail in his dream last night and he remembers that their drink had vodka and apple juice and cranberry juice and some sort of soda, which doesn’t sound like something he’d like at all, and in a short flux of chaotic moments Harry’s hunched over with his bloody face buried in his bloody hands because Louis might be dead or dying and he’s thinking about an imaginary cocktail.

Before he could even think to ask for comfort, his best friends were at his side, wrapping their arms around him and sitting on the cold floor. In a cruel parody of the group hugs they used to share on the X Factor stage after every performance, the band mates sat there together and held themselves in one piece while Harry was rocked by deep, lingering tremors that shook soft, keening sobs out from between his teeth.

Despite the shakes, the hug felt too still; partly because they didn’t move for many minutes after that, but mostly because they were missing one bouncy, energetic member whose arms can encompass all four of them at once and still make each one feel individually and unequivocally loved.

—

The boys stayed in their protective little shell as long as they could, but eventually Louis’ mum arrived to look after her son, bringing reality along with her. Not one of them could find a word to describe how it felt to see Jay pushing through those doors into the waiting room opposite theirs, speaking in panicked tones to the nurses and demanding to see her son because she was his mother and she would be damned if they kept Louis from her. They had already experienced Jay’s protective side at some point or another, and there was no explaining how close Louis was with his mum and his family. Harry thought that he would start crying all over again when he imagined Louis’ little sisters sitting at home, confused and afraid for their big brother, and he had had to turn his face away while Jay demanded to see Louis again, more loudly than the last time. 

When he had control over his emotions once more, Harry glanced up to find a male doctor leading Louis’ mum through the double doors that led through to the other wards – the very doors that had vanished their friend hours ago and that had been barred to the boys since the moment they arrived.

Niall caught at Harry’s sleeve as the younger lad stood up from his seat, his eyes focussed on the head triage nurse, but Harry paid little mind to his friend’s efforts to stop him.

“Harry…” Liam said warningly, getting to his feet just as Harry began to stride across the linoleum floor.

Harry caught the middle-aged woman’s gaze with a hard stare, thrusting his finger in the direction of the large doors that were closed to him. “Did you just let her through?” he asked in a low voice. He could barely control the tremors that threatened to make the words crack in his throat. “Did you just let her through after you’ve been keeping us at bay for four hours?”

Harry felt a hand touch his arm, curling around his elbow. “Come on, Harry,” Liam urged him softly. “There’s no use arguing, she can’t do anything. It’s regulations. Just come and sit down.”

The curly-haired lad shook him off without breaking eye contact with the nurse before him. Her dark eyebrows went up as she asked, “Are you a relative?”

“What does that have –”

“Are you a blood relative of the patient in question?” she asked again, more pointedly. Her expression was unreadable. There could have been an unwilling hardness in her eyes or complete apathy, but Harry somehow suspected it was the latter. 

An angry sigh hissed through his teeth. “No, I’m not a blood relative, but-”

“But we’re his family,” Niall finished for him, coming up to stand next to Harry. His Irish-lilted tone was fierce. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

The woman’s expression didn’t shift at all. “No, I’m afraid in this case it doesn’t. You’ll just have to wait.”

In hindsight, Harry’s next action could either have been an expression of his extreme distress or evidence that his attitude had changed since becoming a pop-star, but it barely mattered to him either way. He didn’t care if anything thought him to be a spoilt brat, or if they believed he’d gained some sort of superiority complex that made him think he was entitled to do whatever he liked; he only cared about Louis.

Harry stared at the unfeeling triage nurse for several seconds, and then dropped his head down to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, breathing softly. The electronic beeping of the hospital sounded in his ears, as did the chatter of the other patients and visitors, and for a moment it was all he could do to keep from strangling on the scream he could feel rising in his throat.

“Can you at least tell us if he’s okay?” he heard Niall ask, but he didn’t wait to hear the woman’s response.

Lifting his head, Harry glanced over his shoulder to meet Zayn’s gaze, whose brown eyes were swimming with suppressed anger. He had remained in his seat during their interrogation of the nurse, his hands steepled against his chin as he stared off into the distance, but now he drew himself up and stared right back at Harry. A moment of shared understanding passed between the two of them, and then they snapped into action.

“Screw this,” Harry muttered under his breath, and then turned and walked toward the ward doors. He heard the woman protest, heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears and heard a quiet voice that sounded suspiciously like Liam telling him that this wasn’t going to help Louis, but then he heard Zayn fall into step beside him.

Together, they pushed through the heavy doors with a soft, metallic thud and stepped out into the curtained, machinery-cluttered ward beyond. There were several emergency rooms along the side wall as they entered, separated from the rest of the wing only by thin papery dividers, and the immediate path led straight down the hall toward a row of elevators.

Just as they heard Niall and Liam catch up, Harry caught a glimpse of Jay stepping into the elevator with a doctor at the far side of the ward, her back to them.

“Oh, shit,” Niall cussed.

Harry broke into a run.

It was almost certainly the worst possible idea he could have had in that moment, given the fact that they were in an emergency ward filled with injured people and that there was a number of obstacles in the way in the form of cords, machines, people and benches. He should have realised that he could have watched and waited to read the level that the elevator stopped at from the illuminated strip of numbers that was built in above the doors that were only just beginning to close. He would have been able to find the right level quite easily if he simply waited.

But he didn’t. He ran, because the irrational part of his mind screamed at him that if those doors closed, he would never see Louis again and his world would crumble around him.

Even Zayn looked startled as Harry suddenly took off, bolting through the sudden gap in pedestrians to sprint down the length of the corridor toward the lifts. This time it was Liam that indulged in a muttered curse before he ran after Harry, followed closely by Zayn and Niall as they all remembered how to move again. Doctors and patients alike glared daggers at the boys as they ran, but could do little to stop them as they darted in and around the gaps in the flow of traffic, leaping over piled extension cables and pushing past weary staff members.

“Hold the lift!” Harry called as he sprinted ahead of the group. He waved a hand above his head, desperately trying to catch their attention, but anyone in a position to help was too distracted by the spectacle they were making to truly listen to his plea. He received only startled glances as he neared the lift, watching the doors edge close with each second.

Harry caught Jay’s gaze the second before the lift doors squeezed shut.

He came to a stumbling stop, panting heavily for breath as he stared in disbelief. A young, male nurse stopped beside him with a puzzled look on his face for Harry’s behaviour, and opened his mouth in what was undoubtedly a question as to what the hell he was doing, but before he could get a word out, the lift doors suddenly opened again, and Jay was staring at him. The other boys’ footsteps clattered in his ears as they, too, came to a shrieking halt.

“I pressed the stop button,” she explained evenly, and then jerked a thumb into the lift, shuffling aside to make room for them. “Get on.”

They did not hesitate a moment before scrambling in after her, and Harry had the satisfaction of seeing the disgruntled triage nurse trailing down the corridor after them before the doors closed, her expression taut with resigned disapproval as they were carried away.

A feeling of vertigo swept through Harry’s body as they rose, but somehow he knew that the sick feeling that suddenly twisted in his gut had nothing to with the lift.

—

Louis didn’t look small anymore.

In fact, the hospital gown they had put him in was a little too short and cut off just below his knee, exposing his tanned calves to anyone who walked by. Against the white of the sheets and the blue of the icepacks they had pressed against his overheated flesh, Louis’ skin had never looked as golden as it did there. It only made looking at his bloodless cheeks that much harder. Between his pale, chapped lips, an awful white tube had been rammed down his throat, connecting it to a breathing apparatus that sat beside his bedside, next to the heart monitor and IV. His hands were limp and slightly curled at his sides, resting lightly on the sheets, like he was still trying to hold onto something even in his unconscious state. His chest rose and fell so softly it was like he wasn’t moving at all.

The doctor had given them a cursory overview of Louis’ state in the elevator ride up to his room, but nothing could quite prepare them for what it felt to see it firsthand. The words ‘coma’ and ‘severe head trauma’ didn’t resonate nearly as heavily as the sight of seeing him lying there, his head swathed in a thick white bandage and his veins pricked with various needles.

Doctor Masen had even explained that Louis wasn’t in critical condition anymore, and that he would probably wake up in a matter of days once his body recovered some of the blood it had lost and his immune system bounced back, but it was hard to remember that with the boy in question looking so lifeless and still.

Somewhere in his mind, Harry knew that the machines were doing Louis good. He knew that the blood being dripped into his veins would bring him back to health, that the clear fluid was probably keeping him out of pain and that even the horrendous tube was pumping oxygen into his lungs to keep him breathing. Yet he still had to clench his hands into tight fists to stop himself from leaping to Louis’ side and jerking the tube out of his mouth because it was choking him, or pulling the needles out so he wouldn’t freak out when he noticed them sticking out of his flesh when he woke up.

In a momentary bout of childish denial, Harry thought that if he could remove all of the uncomfortable, prodding things that were sticking out of Louis’ body then his friend would be able to move freely and he would stop pretending to be in a coma.

The illusion was shattered the second that Jay stepped into his field of vision. Silent tears were dripping off of her chin as she slowly walked forward, and her fingers pressed so tightly against her lips that each knuckle had been turned stark white. She didn’t say a word as she walked to Louis’ bedside. Gently and with infinite care, she cupped her hand against her son’s unresponsive cheek and stroked his skin.

Instantly, Harry felt his head swim. He would have sworn he could still smell Louis’ blood in his nose as he took a deep breath, still feel the dried, crimson flakes between his fingers, and he struggled to swallow down the bile that suddenly rose in his throat. He felt someone’s fingers push through his own where they hung loosely at his side, and he did not even need to know who they belonged to as he returned the pressure, squeezing the hand in both gratitude and desperation.

 In the same moment, Louis’ fingers twitched at his side before stilling again. He didn’t move at all after that.

—

—

—

 

“I’m fine, really,” Louis said for the fifth time, shaking his head in bemusement as the doctor continued checking his vital signs and probing at the wicked bruises that had purpled the skin around his temples. The wound itself was buried far beneath his hairline, but the damage had spread out far beyond it to blacken the edges of his face. Despite that, the boy was smiling up at Doctor Masen, whose eyes had yet to lose the incredulous light they had gained when Louis had ‘miraculously’ woken up from his coma.

Harry had stayed by his side the entire time, long after he should have gone home, and though the circles around his eyes were as dark as Louis’ bruises, he was smiling more widely than he could ever remember doing. Jay was a picture of beaming happiness, continually touching Louis’ arm and hugging him like she couldn’t believe the luck she had in having her son returned to her. All of the boys had bounced around the room ecstatically once he awoke, shouting and screaming and crying with joy until they were called out by the staff for making too much of a racket.

However, they were shuffled out of the room much sooner than anyone was happy with. The nurse talked about ‘letting Louis get his rest’ and of ‘you can see him during visitor’s hours tomorrow’ but it had little effect on those visitors while Louis was blinking his wide blue eyes and smiling weakly at them all. Jay shed a few tears as she left, kissing her son warmly on the top of his head and holding his hands tightly while she whispered her goodbyes and admonishments for making her worry so much. Louis apologised very contritely for what he’d done and promised not to do it again; he even managed to brighten the room while he lay in a hospital bed. He told his mum to pass along his best wishes to the girls, and soon enough the hospital room had been emptied – or so it seemed.

Louis craned his neck as he watched the nurse leave. She paused at the door, raising an eyebrow at him, and she stayed there until he leant back against the pillows, ostensibly settling in to get a good night’s sleep. From where he was hiding in the bathroom, peering through a tiny crack between the door and its frame, Harry watched Louis as the boy let his eyes close. His head slumped convincingly, and then the nurse shut the door behind her with a quick, satisfied nod.

A few seconds passed, and then Louis’ voice sounded in the dim room. “Harry,” he hissed. “It’s clear – you can come out.”

Harry paused a few moments to fish out his mobile before he remembered that he had turned it off when he’d come into the hospital. Seeing no other alternative, he flicked on the bathroom light and left the door a just a tiny bit ajar to let a sliver of light illuminate the darkened hospital room. The fluorescent brightness stung his tired eyes.

“Harry?”

“I’m coming,” he murmured, and crept out of the bathroom toward his best friend. Louis was smiling again as he made his way over, and the shadows cast over his face hid most of the damage that had been done to him. Now, but for the small visible bump in his hairline, the boy hardly looked different than he normally did. The light blue and white of the hospital gown made his tan more noticeable in comparison, and even in the dim light he sat in, Louis absolutely shone with health. No one would have guessed that he had just – just – woken up out of a coma, such was his glow.

“Don’t trip on the cords,” Louis whispered hastily, a laugh in his voice as he watched Harry pick his way over the floor to the bed. “I don’t want you setting off an alarm or something ‘cause they think you’ve killed me.”

“Shh,” Harry replied, biting his lip to keep from cracking up laughing. He was feeling a bit slap happy now, and his mind felt disconnected from his body as he carefully walked the tiled floor like it was an obstacle course. “That’s not funny.”

“Of course not. This is a very serious moment, what with you hiding in a tiny little bathroom like a peeping tom and me pretending to sleep so my nanny doesn’t come back and scold us. We’re very mature young men.”

“Shut up.”

Harry finally fell into his seat again with a soft exhalation. He leant gratefully into the backrest which felt amazingeven though the cushions were old and worn and there was a bit of plastic sticking into a spot above his shoulder. He was so worn out and tired that he could have just rested his head just there and let himself drift off…

But, no. Louis was awake and that was all that mattered.

With another sigh, Harry pulled himself up straight before leaning his elbows on the edge of the armrests. Louis smiled at him. “How are you feeling, anyway?” Harry asked softly. “Is your head still sore? Feeling concussed? I can go if you’re not very feeling well.”

“And waste all the canny skills of deception it took to get you in here? Of course not. Besides, I’m not sure you’d make it to the car park before you passed out.” Louis glanced around at the empty cots around them before suggesting, “Maybe you should pull up a bed, get some rest. I won’t mind. You look so tired.” The last four words were spoken with a soft concern that was so genuine it turned the younger boy’s insides to mush.

“I feel tired,” Harry agreed heavily. His skull seemed to drag itself down to rest on the mattress, his face mashed against the blankets. They smelled like Louis. For a few short minutes, the room was silent but for the quiet breaths falling from both their lips and the sound of Harry’s own heartbeat. His head was swimming again, making it hard to stay awake and focus on the world around him. It was too hard to focus on anything anymore, now that he knew that Louis was well again. He hadn’t been able to think about anything for days – sleepless days, he might add – and so now that he was reassured that Louis wasn’t about to die, he could barely keep his eyes open. He was just so very worn out, stressed and relieved all at the same time, and he couldn’t handle it in this state. It overwhelmed him.

Louis’ quiet voice drew him out of his near-slumber. “Are you crying?” he asked.

Lifting a numb hand to his cheeks, Harry was as surprised as anyone to find that moisture had begun to seep from his eyes and roll down his face. His eyes hadn’t even been open. It was only then that he felt the thickness in his throat and the crushing sensation in his chest, like his heart was being wrung out and twisted.

“I’m just so tired,” he admitted weakly, scrubbing his face with both hands. “I haven’t slept since the accident, and I just…” He sniffed noisily. “It’s been a tough couple of days, that’s all.”

Louis’ expression softened in sympathy until his face looked oddly slack and sleepy, not unlike Harry’s own. “Come here,” he murmured, shuffling aside in the bed to make room. “Come lay down.”

Harry didn’t even bother trying to stop the tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes as he stood and eased himself onto the mattress beside him, letting Louis guide his head down onto his chest. Louis felt a little bit bony beneath his cheek, a little bit cool, but it was more comfortable than any other pillow Harry had ever had.

“It’s alright,” Louis breathed soothingly, slowly stroking Harry’s curls with his free hand. The other was curled around Harry’s shoulder comfortingly, holding him in a loose embrace that made the younger boy want to start crying in earnest. He felt so completely safe in those arms that it nearly broke him down right then and there. “I’m here now, Harry. I’m not going to leave you. I’ll be right here when you wake up, so just go to sleep. Close your eyes… Everything’s going to be fine,” he promised warmly, and then leant down to press his lips to Harry’s forehead. Harry’s eyes slid shut at the gentle touch, and he finally let his body relax into Louis’ as he sank into sleep.

“I’m right here,” Louis said again, his lips brushing Harry’s skin. “Just sleep. I’ll be right here beside you when you -”

BEEP!

Harry jerked upright instantly, disoriented and confused. His mind was still fogged with sleep. He felt around for Louis, but found that he wasn’t curled around him like he was supposed to be; Louis was still lying still and flat in his hospital bed, tube firmly shoved down his throat and veins still hooked up to IVs nearby. Harry was sitting in the same chair, and had evidently just jerked from lying with his head resting on Louis’ torso. His hands were still resting on the sleeping boy’s arms and chest where they had fallen during sleep.

No, Harry thought dazedly. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This isn’t…

Every trace of that thought trickled away as Harry finally lifted his head and found the source of the noise that had awoken him. He stared at the monitor blankly for several seconds. The sound of the flatline filled his ears, electronic and unending in its unbroken beep, but it didn’t really compute at first. If the machinery were making that noise, and showing that straight line on the readings, that would mean that Louis’ heart had stopped and that was simply not possible. If Louis’ heart had stopped, there would be nurses and doctors rushing in to save him. If Louis’ heart had stopped, that would mean he was dead.

“Louis?” Harry asked stupidly, shaking his friend’s arm. When he moved him, Louis’ head lolled to the side a little and in that moment, the entire scene became reality. It hit Harry like a gunshot.

He sprang to his feet, shaking, and his head whipped from the monitor to Louis and back again. He didn’t know what to do with his hands; should he try CPR or press the – the nurses’ button! He darted to the side, pounding the little button with his fists over and over, but there was no sound or anything to let him know what had happened or if the call had even gone through.

The flatline was still going.

“Oh, God.” The ragged cry came with a fresh influx of tears and a panic that threatened to strangle him. “Oh, God, oh, God – HELP!” Harry shouted until his voice broke. Why was no one here? Why was no one here to help him? “HELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME! HELP!” He smashed the nurse’s button, slamming it harder.

The flatline was still going.

Why was no one helping? Ugly sobs were breaking out of Harry’s mouth, tearing at his chest and making spots appear in front of his eyes. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do. Why wasn’t anyone coming? Louis was dying, why wasn’t anyone here?

“PLEASE, HELP!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs, gasping for air. He wanted to run for help, but he couldn’t move his feet. He couldn’t leave Louis in case, in case when he got back his friend was already–

“HELP ME!”

The flatline was still going.

Why could no one hear? Why was no one coming? Harry had never felt so lost in his entire life, standing there, and he wanted nothing more than to wake up again.

The flatline just droned on.

“FOR GOD’S SAKE, SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!” Why could nobody hear? Why was no one coming to make this right? Why did nobody care that Louis was dying and Harry didn’t know what to do? Why did nobody care that he didn’t know how to help? “Oh, God, Louis – look at me, please open your eyes – HELP! PLEASE, ANYBODY! It’s gonna be alright, Louis. HELP!” The last scream was so piercing that it raked up Harry’s throat like a razor blade, leaving his cries raw and croaky from then on. “PLEASE! Louis, Louis, look at me, Louis, look at me!” His voice cracked and tore. His hands were shaking so violently he could barely push them into the double fist he wanted. In a way he had only seen done on others, he knelt up on the edge of the mattress and pumped his hands against Louis’ chest in a thoughtless attempt to save his life. He didn’t know what to do; he didn’t know what he was doing. He was terrified he would do it wrong and make things worse, but he couldn’t think of anything else. His voice continued in time to the rhythm of his pumping, desperate and hoarse. Each syllable tumbled out of his mouth with a new sob, a new cry. “HELP! Look at me, open your eyes – you can’t be dead, you hear me? You – can’t – be – dead. I won’t let you!” he cried, hysterically. Tears fell upon his hands as he worked, splashing off of his skin to soak into Louis’ gown. “HEL—”

He didn’t notice the medical staff pouring into the room until they were right on top of him, tearing him off of Louis’ body and dragging him away. Harry howled and struggled against the hands that held him, fighting vainly to be back at his friend’s side.

“Louis,” he bawled, choking on his own tears. His hands contorted desperately in the air between them.

The real doctors had begun charging the defibrillators and pressing more practised hands against his heart to get it pumping it again. Harry watched as the paddles were pressed fast against Louis’ chest, watched the charge jump, and then watched Louis’ back arch up painfully before slamming back against the bed.

“Calm down,” someone was saying in his ear, but he couldn’t stop the listen to it.

“Don’t die,” he begged, too quietly for anyone to hear.  “God, Louis, don’t die. Don’t die, don’t die. Please don’t die. Please…” A new wave of hysterics overcame him then, stealing his voice from his throat and the air from his lungs and making his entire body sway dizzily. He didn’t feel himself fall; he only felt the hard chairs collide with the backs of his knees as he was brought to the ground. His blood was rushing hard and fast in his ears, drowning out the sound of the paddles being charged again.

The flatline droned on in his ears.

His entire body was shuddering violently, from his fingertips to his toes. He was shaking so badly he could barely see the woman that crouched before him, grasping his wrists and staring into his face. He couldn’t hear the words he could see her lips forming.

Instead, he heard his own words spoken in a voice that was barely human. “Did I do it?” he gasped desperately. “Did I do it? Oh, God, I was leaning on the bed, I wasn’t supposed to be here I wasn’t supposed to be waiting with him anymore, I was supposed to be gone – did I do it? Was it my fault? Did I do something? Did I do this? Is it my fault?” He gulped as his stomach threatened to revolt on him. He was crying so hard he was beginning to retch a little. “Did I – Oh, God, Louis, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, Louis! Please don’t die, ple—”

In desperation, the nurse lifted a hand and slapped it across Harry’s face —

 

— and he woke up. Again.

He flew straight up in alarm, tipping back in his seat and then going too far. He tumbled straight back so that he unbalanced himself on the legs of the metal chair on which he sat. His hands flailed uselessly in the air for a few seconds as he hovered without purchase, but there was nothing for him to grip onto. He stayed rocked back on the two back legs for a few heart-stopping seconds before crashing forward again with a noisy, metallic clang.

Louis slept on soundly.

Harry’s pulse was pounding hard in his throat and there was a wild feeling squirming in his belly. There was a cold sweat on his forehead and for the first time he was absolutely, positively certain that this wasn’t another dream. His hands were still trembling with leftover terror from the nightmare he’d just had – and the dream before that – and he had to take a moment just to bury his face in his palms and try to recover his breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered, with great feeling. His voice was weary and he found that he had a sore throat like he really had been shouting for Louis’ life. He found it was still a better option than the alternative, especially as he peeled his fingers back to look at his friend’s serene face. Louis was alive, if in a coma, and that was the main thing that he had to take from his strange inception-like experience.

He knew he had been in and out of sleep for a few days, but he hadn’t thought that his subconscious would take such complete control when he finally got some decent shut-eye. That had been… violent.

Louis had remained in a coma for three days, now, and with each day Harry felt more disconnected with the outside world, like he was being pulled under as well. His dreams had been fairly close to reality; he had been sneaking in to see Louis when he wasn’t supposed to. Once he had mastered the complex art of not sprinting through the emergency wards and avoiding any nosy staff, it was far easier to creep up to Louis’ room when everyone else was gone, simply so that his sleeping friend would have a friendly face to wake up to.

Harry often told himself that was the only reason he came up here so much, and that it had nothing to do with the knife he felt piercing his gut whenever he spent any time away from Lou.

He knew that the others were worried about him - one look at their faces whenever they walked in to find him sitting at Louis’ bedside was enough to tell him just how concerned they were – but he couldn’t bring himself to leave again. He had stayed with Louis when they had both been ill together and he would do it again now, no matter what the price was. He wouldn’t leave him.

He could only pray Louis would return the favour.

“You know,” he commented, speaking aloud for the sake of it, “when you wake up I think I might take a turn of sleeping for a week.” Even though Louis couldn’t hear him, Harry found that the sound of his own voice helped chase away the lingering details that of the dream that was still clinging obstinately in his brain. It helped remind him that it had been just that – a dream, and definitely not real in any way.

He leaned forward to look Louis straight in the sleeping face, chin in hand. “This never would have happened if you’d stayed in bed with me,” he pointed out. He gave a half-hearted chuckle that was borne more of fatigue than real amusement. “I think that’s the lesson we should learn from this whole… ordeal. Don’t get out of bed, stay and snuggle with me. I don’t think you’ll mind too much, though. You’re terrible in the mornings. You punched me in the face that one time, do you remember?” He paused like Louis was really part of the conversation, giving him time to respond, and then laughed at himself. “You say it was an accident, but I don’t really think it was. You were just grumpy, Boo Bear. And tired. God, I’m so tired,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his aching eyes with the back of his hand. A loose smile bent his lips. “Not gonna sleep though, am I? We’re both great examples of why that shouldn’t happen.”

Harry paused for a full minute, his eyes going afar and his face slowly falling again. His eyelashes brushed against his cheeks as he looked down at the bedspread beneath him, and after a little while he rubbed distractedly at the moisture that had collected there. He didn’t want to cry again, not after how tiring that nightmare had been. The details had effectively slipped away by now, but the trembling feeling inside him still remained. The vague sensation of how it felt to watch Louis die had stuck its claws into his memory, and it seemed it planned to stay. The worst part was wondering how it would really feel to lose him now, if that had only been his imagination. How much worse could it be in real life?

Pushing that thought down, Harry shook himself out of his reverie and blinked his reddened eyes. He reached for Louis’ hand and carefully enfolded it in both of his, playing with the fingers and gently brushing his thumb over his skin. “You’ll be alright,” he said, trying to inject some confidence into his tone. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure anymore. “You’ll be just fine soon enough; you’ll see. And it’ll be… eggs and toast in the mornings again, and watching girly films on the couch… and you bringing me my tea when I wake up… and…” He swiped at another stray tear, stupidly feeling that Louis shouldn’t see him being sad even though Louis wasn’t seeing anything right now. “… and cuddling in bed together when it’s barely light out. I know you can’t resist lazing around on Sundays, so you just don’t go anywhere, alright?”

 Very carefully, Harry lifted Louis’ hand to hold it against his cheek, cradling his fingers with reverent care. “Don’t leave… just don’t leave me.”

—

—

—

 

“I don’t suppose he’s going to be very happy when he wakes up, is he?” Liam mused out loud, his voice quiet yet calm. “He’s already looking thinner. When he’s finds out he’s a skinny thing and that I’ve stolen the bicep crown back, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Liam was sitting on the edge of Louis’ bed, absently brushing at the errant strands of hair that had escaped from Louis’ fringe to splay across his forehead. He gently pushed them back into place as he spoke. He received only mild responses from those around him; not for lack of interest, but from simple tiredness.

It was nearing midnight at this point, and while they had stretched the limit on visitors’ hours to the point where they weren’t even adhering to them anymore, they were aware that they had to leave eventually. Liam was the only one truly awake anymore, with Zayn slumping down in his chair as he tapped wearily at his phone. He was trapped in that position by Niall’s blonde head, as the Irish boy was curled up in the chair beside him and his temple rested on Zayn’s shoulder. The stress had been tough on him, yet he could still retreat to sleep whenever he needed to. Jay was standing in the corner of the room, speaking quietly on the phone to her kids as she told them she’d be home soon. She had decided not to bring in Louis’ sisters during his convalescence, for the sole reason that they did not need to see him so weakened.

And Harry was slumped over on one of the neighbouring hospital cots, where his friends had carried him the moment he’d started dozing in the chair. He’d been having so much trouble sleeping that they took every opportunity to force rest upon him.

Louis’ condition had been steadily improving, the doctors said, and so they still popped in every night to check on him over the last week. The One Direction boys had been called upon to soothe the fans concern in whatever way they could, and all except Harry had been doing their part in heading out for the occasional meeting with a reporter so they could keep the public in the loop. They didn’t reveal personal information; only enough so that people knew Louis was okay and that he was pulling through.

Closing her mobile with a muffled snap, Jay ran her fingers through her dark hair as she stepped back into the centre of the room. A few heads lifted in her direction as she smiled wearily. “I’m headed off now, boys,” she told them softly, glancing once at the sleeping teens around her. She looked to Liam, the most conscious of the group. “Have you all got a ride back home?”

Liam’s hand still rested lightly on Louis’ shoulder as he turned to her. “Yeah, they’re waiting outside for us when we’re ready to go.” His gaze also went to his unconscious band mates, and his expression softened. “Which I suppose is right about now.” He looked up at her with a warm smile as she came over to kiss Louis’ forehead in farewell, and then squeezed Liam’s shoulder for a brief second.

Jay waited by the open door as Liam did the rounds to collect the rest of the lads, gently shaking Niall’s hand to wake him and doing the same for Harry. Niall instantly turned and latched onto Zayn in sleepy dependence, and Zayn curled an arm around his waist to help him to his feet. Harry woke with far more alarm, shooting up with a panicked look on his face and muttering Louis’ name.

“It’s alright,” Liam soothed him gently, curling his fingers around the younger boy’s shoulder to hold him steady. He had never lived up to the title of ‘Daddy Direction’ more than he had over the last six days, and every single boy present in that room was grateful for it. “It’s time to go back home now, alright? Come on.” 

For once, Harry was too distracted to protest as Liam guided his feet back onto the floor and pointed him in the direction of the door. He grabbed Harry’s coat off of the bed on the way past and hung it loosely around the lad’s shoulders, keeping a supporting hand on his back so he wouldn’t list to the side. Harry’s curly head hung down like he could barely keep it on his neck. 

“Sweet dreams, Lou,” Harry mumbled under his breath as he passed his comatose friend, trailing his fingers lightly over Louis’ leg before letting his hand fall heavily back to his side. Liam smiled at the affectionate gesture and sent a silent goodbye toward the older boy as well before continuing.

He was nearly at the door when he heard it. It was just a tiny irregularity in the sound of the heart monitor, but it was enough to give him pause. Liam glanced back at the boy in the bed.

“What?” Harry muttered, when Liam stopped near the open doorway. The others were already out in the hallway, waiting for them to catch up, and the curly-haired lad glanced back and forth between the two groups, catching at his coat when it threatened to slip off of his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought I heard –” Liam began to say, but he swallowed his words as the slow, steady beating of Louis’ monitor sped up a little more. It did not shoot up out of the range and incite a sudden shared panic attack between every person that heard it; it was just enough to make a glimmer of hope spark inside Liam’s chest, spurred on by the sound of the pulse he could hear beating inside his friend’s. Even Harry, though he looked very nearly dead on his feet, perked up in confusion.

Liam left the bewildered boy behind as he stepped around to stand at the foot of Louis’ bed, watching as the slow beats on the display became a little quicker, going from one beep every few seconds to one every two seconds, and then –

Louis’ body gave a sudden jerk. Without warning, his chest arched up off of the mattress as a sudden series of terrible retching noises emanated from his throat, making him cough and splutter around the tube in his mouth. His heart rate abruptly went wild with panic. His hands curled around the sheets beneath him, knuckles turning white as his fingers contorted, and his muscles visibly tautened in his limbs as he tensed against the discomfort.  

“Oh, my God!” Liam exclaimed, caught between terror and joy in the same moment.

Louis was still choking, his body fighting to breathe on its own. His eyes strained against their lids as his gaze wheeled, pupils blown out so much that the cheery blue of his irises were drowned in black.

Harry made a weird gurgling noise in his throat, like he, too, was being strangled. He couldn’t seem to manage any other response.

By some miracle, Liam had the presence of mind to drag his friend out of the way just as the nurses bustled in to take care of the tubes sticking in Louis’ throat. They were quick and deft in their movements, so it looked that his airways were cleared by some sort of illusion or sleight of hand, rather than a medical procedure. Liam was glad they stood in the way of his line of sight, because he truly had no desire to see just how long the ventilator had extended down into his lungs; the memory of Louis’ head bashed open and him lying in a coma would haunt him for long enough on its own without any new additions.

The second the tube had been removed from his throat, Louis slumped straight back into the pillows again and stayed there. Only a tiny strip of white was visible underneath his eyelids. There was a light whistle in the slow breaths that floated in and out of his lungs, but they continued evenly nonetheless. The nurses slipped a much smaller oxygen tube beneath Louis’ nose to keep him breathing before retreating from his side. Liam caught the satisfied look on their faces as they stepped away and knew that this was definitely a big improvement.

“He’s breathing on his own now,” said the male nurse with a small smile, “that’s a good sign. He’ll be unconscious for a while yet, but that’s nothing to worry about. His body is just regaining strength again – sleeping it off, if you will. With any luck, he’ll be conscious by this time tomorrow.”

With a quick urging to go home and get some rest before returning, the two nurses nodded politely in response to the boys’ gratitude before heading out again with a promise to look after him while they were gone. They assured them all that they would call if Louis woke up in the meantime. It felt like there were leaving behind a limb to do so, but there was no denying that they were all swaying on their feet as it was and the chairs did not make for a comfortable place to sleep; they had little choice but to follow the man’s advice.

They were almost back to the lifts when Harry paused, patting his pockets with a light frown curving his brow. His eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and his voice was low and gravelly, but he still tried to blink innocently up at them all. “I think I left my phone back in the room,” he said blankly. “It must have fallen out on the bed while I was lying there, I’ll just run and get it.” He was fooling absolutely no one, and several eyebrows were raised in his direction. “I’ll catch up, meet you down there.”

“Harry,” was all Zayn said, and sent him a levelled look.

Liam almost wanted to laugh. He probably would have if Harry hadn’t looked so pitiful. “You could at least try and come up with a better lie than that, mate.” His tone was gentle to soften the blow, but he meant it. “Louis will be fine here for the night,” he said. “We can come back first thing in the morning, if you like.”

He was either oblivious to the complete scepticism bleeding through his friend’s expressions or he was stubbornly determined to continue with this useless lie, Liam thought, as he watched Harry shake his head, eyes wide. “No, really,” he persisted. “I’ll be right back.”

Liam watched the curly-haired lad step out of the elevator before the door closed, nodding at them like he actually expected that they would believe him. The words ‘co-dependent’ and ‘unhealthy’ floated across the surface of his mind as he gazed at Harry’s tired face, but they were accompanied by a wave of empathy that washed out his urge to call his friend out on what he was doing. He knew there was little point in trying to convince the youngest member to leave Louis’ bedside now. They’d had enough trouble succeeding while Louis was fast asleep; now that there was a chance he’d be awake soon, it would be next to impossible.

So they consented to wave Harry goodbye with a sarcastic promise to wait in the carpark for him while he ‘fetched his mobile’.

The moment the elevator doors concealed his friends from sight, Harry darted back through the hall on feet that felt like lead, wasting no time before he swung back into Louis’ hospital room. His friend hadn’t moved at all, but Harry had seen it. His eyes had been open. It made Harry’s insides squirm inside him with dizzying relief, making him both sick and happy at the same time, terrified and overjoyed, frantic yet finally, blissfully serene.

He went over to the adjacent bed and leaned over to grab his mobile from where it was nestled in the covers before he turned back again. He walked to the door, but then paused in the archway and glanced back at Louis’ face.

In theory, he whispered a quick goodnight and a promise that he would be back in the morning when Lou woke up and then shuffled back to the elevator so he could go home and sleep in his own bed again. Ideally, that’s what he would be able to do. He should have been able to step outside that door knowing that Louis would survive without him and, more importantly, that he would survive without Louis, and the effort to do just that should not have wrenched something buried deep within his chest. It should have been easy to follow the Siren’s call that was the prospect of a good night’s sleep on a comfy mattress, and he should have gone back home.

But it just wasn’t the case.

Instead, Harry walked over to Louis’ bedside, plonked himself back into his post and settled in to wait.

—

Harry’s eyes were thick and gummed with sleep when he awoke again, so much so that it was a struggle to drag his eyelids back. His cheek was mashed underneath his face as he found he had once again fallen asleep on Louis’ hospital mattress, half-leaned out of his chair with one arm trapped beneath him and the other dangling uselessly by his side. His mind was clouded and thick.

“I had the weirdest dream.”

Harry’s head shot up instantly at the sound of the rusty, achingly familiar voice. Louis was awake – finally, really awake - blinking his heavily circled eyes and looking completely out of it. “I dreamt that I fainted and brained myself on the kitchen counter. Isn’t that weird?”

A strange, choked noise escaped Harry’s lips as he leapt up, dashing to the call button, and used his whole palm to smack the tiny buzzer. He moved with a fizzing energy he didn’t know he possessed, like someone had just touched a live wire to every nerve in his body. More than that, he felt so elated that it seemed he could have floated off of the ground without even realising it.

Louis was awake.

If he’d had a megaphone, he would have hung halfway out of the window and shouted that to everyone passing by the hospital. He would have bellowed to the world that it could continue spinning as normal; that it had been a false alarm and it wasn’t going to end because Louis was alright after all. He wanted to run screaming through the hospital halls, jumping over the never-ending wet floor signs and whooping his happiness to anyone who could still hear –

- but he wanted to talk to his best friend more.

“That is weird,” Harry said with tremulous excitement, speaking even before he made it to the bedside. He wanted Louis to hear his voice, so he knew that Harry was here even if he couldn’t see him. He wanted him to know he had never been alone. The second he made it over, he slipped his fingers beneath Louis’ and held his hand cradled in both of his own. The plastic IV felt oddly warm against his skin. “You’d never do that, would you, Lou?”

It was abundantly clear that his friend was still very, very much doped up on pain medication. He was barely conscious. “Of course not,” he said, his words careful yet slurred at the ends. “I think I happen to be… I’m very good at – staying on my feet. I’d never fall.” He widened his eyes once before they slipped shut, then flickered open again. His long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he blinked several times. “Harry,” he mumbled in a strange tone, and a loose smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. For the first time, his stunning blue eyes managed to find Harry and halfway focussed on his face. “Am I high right now?”

A startled laugh burst from Harry’s lips before he could stop it, and his hand shot up to smother it. Louis was giggling as well, a helpless kind of laugh that he seemed unable to control for several seconds. Once it abated, Louis sighed happily under his breath and smiled dreamily up at Harry, who felt such an intense wave of relief that it literally rocked him back for a moment.

Biting back a painfully big grin, Harry leant down and pressed his forehead against Louis’, lingering there with their faces close enough that he could feel his best friend’s smile and the steady, even breaths that he drew. They stayed there for several long, drawn out seconds.

Then, “Harry?”

“Yeah, Louis?”

“Are you high?”

They both broke into laughter again. With their heads still resting against one another, Harry could feel Louis’ shaking breaths falling lightly on his cheek, and he couldn’t resist turning his lips to press a fond kiss onto his friend’s mouth. Louis broke into another giggling fit as Harry broke contact, grinning widely, and so Harry went ahead and kissed his cheek and forehead too while he was at it, just to make Louis laugh harder. He couldn’t believe how much he had missed the sound of his best friend’s delighted cackle. It felt like the windows should have cracked and shattered with the force of the joy expanding in his chest.

“You know you’re not supposed to be in here.” The gentle admonishment came from the dark haired, thirty-something nurse that had just walked into the room. Although, the moment she saw Harry’s openly ecstatic grin as he looked up at her the disapproval visibly faded on her face. The boy in question barely noticed a thing.

“Sorry,” he beamed, unrepentant.

She just shook her head. “At least stop riling up the patient, will you? He’s supposed to be resting, not rolling around laughing.” Her lips pressed together as her eyes fell upon Louis’ drugged, happy face; she had to hide a smile at the sight.

With hands held up in a display of innocence, Harry stepped back from the bed, flashing his most charming smile as he went. The nurse stepped forward and began checking all of the instruments with a practised hand – not that Louis made it any easier.

“Hello, love,” he greeted her sweetly, his head lolling against the pillow. “How are you today?” Somehow, his glassy eyes still managed to twinkle cheekily at her. Harry couldn’t contain his snort of amusement, and had to turn away with his fist pressed against his mouth, cheeks slowly turning red with the effort of holding in his laugh.

The nurse shook her head bemusedly. “I’m fine, sweetie,” she replied patiently as she checked his bandages. “How are you feeling? Are you feeling any nausea, dizziness, blurred vision? I doubt you’re in any pain, by the looks of it.” The last was muttered under her breath in an amused whisper. “How many fingers?” she asked next, waving three in front of his face.

“Oh, that’s easy. You’ve got ten fingers.” His weak chuckle was drowned out by his best friend’s laughter, and Louis shifted his head and peered around the nurse’s body so he could see Harry’s reaction. Before she could rebuke him, however, Louis answered the question and correctly counting the digits dancing before him.

“Good,” the nurse said archly. Then, she looked over her shoulder to address Harry. “Look, there are some other procedures I need to do here that are going to be less fun to watch,” she told him, without a hint of snideness in her tone. “It’d probably be best for you to wait outside for a mo’, alright? I’ll call you back once I’m finished. Oh, don’t worry,” she added, when Harry’s concerned gaze flickered to Louis, “I’m pretty sure he won’t feel a thing. They sure didn’t hold out with the morphine.”

“No, they did not,” Louis agreed. He sounded quite pleased, in all honesty.

Harry’s cheeks were beginning to feel sore from the grin that was stretching his face. It was hard to keep from laughing out loud at everything. Still, he knew he couldn’t stand there forever; there were calls to be made and things to be done. Squeezing Louis’ gown-clad shoulder, he smiled and headed for the door.

“I love that boy,” Louis proclaimed proudly to the nurse as Harry left, and Harry thought that he sounded just like he did when he drunk-dialled.

“That’s lovely, hon,” the nurse replied, and Harry beamed as he closed the door.

Outside, Harry immediately started sending the necessary messages around their circle, alerting everyone to the fact that Louis was lucid again – more or less. The selfish part of him almost wanted to hold off on revealing that his friend was awake, for the simple reason that he would have more time with him until they arrived, but then he tried to imagine how he would feel if someone had done the same thing to Harry. The thought alone was enough to make him whip out his phone and furiously tap out the numbers on the screen.

He heard Jay’s relieved, shaky sigh before she hung up – barely staying on the line long enough to hear that Louis was smiling and being taken care of – and when he called to the others, he closed his eyes to the sounds of his band mates cheering and whooping loudly in the background. He was fairly certain that Liam had dropped the phone when he received the news, because their voices were sounded oddly far away as they celebrated. All those closest to Louis finished the call with the same breathless sentence – ‘We’ll be right there.’

—

Sooner than he expected, Harry was let back in the room.

“… cheeky boy,” the nurse was saying as he approached, but there was genuine fondness in her voice. Even with his head wrapped in a bandage and drugged up to his eyeballs, the Doncaster lad still had his old charm. Personally, Harry thought his devil-may-care appeal was only heightened by his current state. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that reaction before,” the nurse continued, smiling at him. She smiled at Harry, too, as he joined Louis’ side again before returning her attention to the bedridden boy. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible patient?”

Louis slowly blinked his eyelids once before replying, “Only that I have terrible patience.” His crystal blue eyes were amused at his own joke. “And cooking,” he added as an afterthought. “Harry does all the cooking. Niall does all the eating. I cleaned the dishes once, but…” His voice trailed off into a mumble before it became incoherent.

“But you ended up splashing water at us,” Harry finished for him, affectionately.

Something that sounded like the word ‘True’ fell from Louis’ lips.

“He’s alright,” the nurse said, giving Harry a reassuring nod. “Just give him some time to work the meds out of his system. The doctor’ll be in soon.” With that, she took her leave again, leaving Harry alone with his medicated friend.

“Harry,” Louis mumbled, looking thoughtful as he stared up at him, “we should really consider having all your photo-shoots taken like this. Your jawline is stellar from this angle.”

The younger lad let out an undignified snort of laughter that almost sounded like a sob. It was only just beginning to dawn on him just how relieved he was that Louis was okay, and just how close he had come to losing all of the wonderful, insane beauty that was the mind of his best friend. It was making his emotions do strange flip-flops all over the place. In just a few seconds, his heart went from soaring in his chest to squeezing painfully with concern so strong it felt like it was going to choke him. He had to sit down again just to stabilize himself.

Seeing the anguished look on Harry’s face, Louis lifted one numb hand and pressed it to Harry’s cheek. His fingers were clumsy against the other boy’s face but the intent was so caring that it made Harry’s eyes well up a little. “It’s alright,” Louis told him, and even though he was quite clearly still off in a dreamland, Harry desperately wanted to believe him. “It’s all… okay. It’s alright now.” Louis’ fingers traced the jawline he had just admired and played along Harry’s bottom lip idly, smoothing out the taut worry lines he found in the features. The task seemed to take up his full attention and he was visibly distracted by it. Rather than trying to claim his friend’s focus again, Harry let him continue and did not speak a word of complaint, even when Louis’ hand trailed all over his face, childishly smashing his palm against his nose  and pinching the skin of his cheeks. Instead of being annoyed, the younger teen’s lips bent in a smile as his friend poked at them, and he sincerely grinned as Louis tugged at the corners of his mouth, pulling them upward.

“Are you having fun?” he asked at some point, amusement in his voice.

Giggling once, Louis let his hand fall back to the bed like it was costing him a massive physical effort to keep it hovering in the air. “Yeah, I am, actually. Have you ever seen your face before? It’s really interesting.”

Harry shook his head in bemusement. “I’m so glad you think so,” he said sarcastically.

In the blink of an eye, Louis was distracted by something else. “My head feels like it weighs a tonne,” he said slowly, and his eyes rolled upward like he was trying to see it himself. “Has someone parked a car up there, or something?”

Harry scrutinized it carefully, adopting a thoughtful expression as he inspected the area. “No, no – it’s not any bigger than it usually is.” To prove his point, he leant forward and caught Louis’ face in his hands very gently before leaning back, illustrating the size of his skull with the distance of his fingers. “See? Perfectly normal head size.”

“Goo-” Louis began to say, and then cut himself off. “Oh, God.” What little blood that remained in his cheeks began to drain away, leaving him white and sickly again, and his expression twisted in distress. The drowsy look of medicated happiness shifted to become helpless, like he was struggling to fight past the drugs that were coursing through his veins. “I have to go,” he said abruptly and, to Harry’s alarm, he began to sit up in the bed. “I have to tell people what happened, I have to call Mum and the girls, I have to make sure they’re alright, they don’t know what happened – I have to make sure they’re alright!”

“Calm down!” Harry had to put a hand flat on his chest to keep Louis from ripping the IV out of his arm and gently eased his friend back onto the bed. Louis’ eyes were rolling beneath their lids as he tried to blink. “I’ve already called them,” he said quickly, “and they’re on their way now, don’t worry. They’re fine, they know what happened and they know that you’re fine now. They’ll be here soon, I promise.”

Louis fell back against the pillows, and a heavy sigh was pushed out of his lungs in a rush of whistling air. “Harry, this isn’t fun anymore,” he murmured weakly. His voice was croaky and close to breaking. The medication and the concussion both made his words soft around the edges, like he couldn’t control what he was saying.

Seeing his friend in such a state made it hard to Harry to speak at first. Despite being the practical joker of the group – maybe even because of it – Louis was still the oldest one out of all of them and, in some ways, the strongest. He was able to smile even when it should have been impossible, and he was able to make everyone else smile, too. Even when he was at his lowest, there was still the sense that he could push past it and continue on with anything. More than that, he was an inexorable force within the band; he kept everyone going. He wasn’t mature all the time and he often preferred deferring to the other boys when he didn’t want to be in charge, but he was always there if you needed him. Whether it was a serious issue that required his advice, assistance with anything or the simple fact that you needed cheering up, Louis was there. He was always game for a laugh but when it came right down to it, he would be there to hold you tight and tell you it was all going to be okay. Harry had never seen him look so utterly helpless before, and it made his insides contract painfully.

Soon, Harry’s eyes were bright with moisture again. “I know,” he said sadly. Ignoring the aching in his chest, he shifted forward in the chair and gingerly put his arm around Louis’ shoulders, hugging him as tightly as he could without hurting him. He leant his head down on the soft pillow, facing Louis. The older boy gave a small, shuddering sigh before letting his eyes slip closed and tilting his head toward Harry’s so that there foreheads just barely rested against one another. They stayed like that for a long time and eventually, Louis’ breathing slowly calmed again. Harry watched him, staring at the Louis’ closed eyelids from two inches away and listening to the endless streaming voice in his head that simply and joyously proclaimed, ‘He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive’over and over. 

—

—

—

 

Unfortunately, by the time the others arrived Louis’ drowsiness in conjunction with the medication had pushed him into a delirious state of fluctuating awareness. Though he was technically awake, he was still half in a dream and he could barely focus on any of the faces that passed before his eyes. The frustration he had revealed to Harry had faded along with his lucidity, leaving him a beaming, blinking pile of human-shaped morphine. He lay in the pillows and smiled at anyone and anything that he looked at, even if that happened to include that IV stand by his bed. 

Jay was still overjoyed to see her son, no matter what state he was in.

“Oh, Louis,” she sighed as she rushed forward, engulfing his slack body in a tight embrace and kissing his cheek several times. She smoothed the hair back from his brow, stroked his cheeks and squeezed his hand, staring into his unfocussed eyes all the while. She didn’t even seem to notice Harry’s presence. “Are you alright, darling? Can you hear me?”

Louis’ eyes widened first, and then closed before he managed to drag them to her face. “Hi, mum,” he said with a silly giggle. Silent laughter shook his frame as his head rolled away. Jay smiled, but doubt clouded the relief in her eyes.

“It’s mostly the drugs they gave him,” Harry told her quietly, and Jay started a little. Her expression became warm as she saw him sitting there, though. “They said he’ll be a little loopy for a while, with the concussion, and the meds and everything…  And he’s only just woken up, so…” Harry stopped himself when he realised it sounded like he was trying to defend Louis, when he was talking to his mother.

“I’m just glad he’s awake,” she said with a rush of feeling. She dropped into the chair on the other side of the bed like she hadn’t rested in days, but kept a hold of Louis’ hand like Harry had done night after night. Her son beamed at her as she squeezed his fingers.

“It’s okay, mum,” Louis assured her warmly. “I’m just fine. Really… I’m great. I can’t feel…” He lost his way halfway through the sentence, and then smiled again. “It’s fine. But you should really come and see,” he said suddenly, waving a floppy hand to beckon her over. His eyes turned to Harry, a conspiratorial expression unfolding in his features. He twitched his eyebrows like they were about to share a secret.

Jay looked between them both, mild amusement warring with the happiness in her eyes.

“Harry,” Louis sighed in an exasperated tone, sending the curly-haired boy a withering look. Harry looked right back, honestly bewildered. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Um. I’m… sorry?”

Louis batted a hand at Harry’s face again, caressing his lip briefly with the blade of his thumb before pulling away. “It’s okay,” he granted in a magnanimous tone, and then rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I forgive you.”

Biting the inside of his cheeks, Harry managed a quick ‘Thank you, Lou’ before catching Jay’s gaze. She seemed to be having the same trouble as he; her hand pressed against her lips in an effort to keep from laughing.

“It’s not funny,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Of course not.”

As Louis continued to mumble incoherently under his breath, Jay’s amusement settled and she fixed Harry with a strange look, making the lad feeling slightly self-conscious. He wondered what was running through her mind and considered asking her, but then a small smile bent her lips.

“It’s nice to have someone who cares about him as much as I do,” she said bluntly, and before Harry could react, she went back to smiling at her son. Harry couldn’t think of a response.

It wasn’t long after that that the other boys came barrelling through the door, tripping over their own feet and each other’s legs in an effort to be first into the room. Hands clinging at jumper’s that didn’t belong to them and knees knocking together, Niall was the one that eventually made it through the door, pushing through Zayn and Liam so fast that he skidded a little on the linoleum floor, leaving a small smudge behind from the rubber lining of his shoes.

The sight was too much for Louis at first; he burst out laughing, nearly suffocating as his weak body couldn’t withstand the very light, gasping chuckles that passed his lips.

All three of them froze at the sight, their faces freezing in disbelieving, hopeful smiles. It took several moments for the blinding happiness to withdraw slightly so they could move again, and they stood dumb with their silly grins. Harry wondered if he’d looked like that, too, when he’d heard Louis’ voice again. A part of him was sure he’d looked even goofier than they, which wasn’t particularly comforting.

Then, Louis managed to speak past his weak giggles. “Oh, my gorgeous little leprechaun,” he murmured breathlessly, gazing lovingly at Niall and waving at him with one hand. His eyes moved to Zayn and Liam, who were still stuck in place with Zayn’s hand gripping Liam’s sleeve. “Your turtles gave me a message,” Louis said to Liam, squeezing his eyes shut again. “They spoke to me; they told me that you have to marry – Zayn!” Whether he had been distracted by the last member in the room or he had simply meant to give that particular piece of matchmaking advice from a deceased turtle, no one was entirely sure.

No one really paid any mind either way, because the nonsense was enough to jar the others out of their paralysis and they surged forward, absolutely radiant.

“Louis!” Niall exclaimed ecstatically, gripping the bed railing and bouncing a little on the spot. “You’re awake!”

“I am?”

Niall laughed loudly, and then turned to Harry with a huge smile on his face. “What’s up with him?” he asked; not worried, but simply curious.

“Is he on drugs?” Zayn asked with no small amount of amusement.

“Quite a bit,” Harry told him, hiding his smile.

“Oh, God,” Liam laughed. He did sound worried. “At least that explains the turtles…”

Louis had to smother another laugh in his palm, and the helpless, slightly hysterical note had begun to creep into his voice again as they listened. Harry felt a sudden wave of protectiveness flow through him, and edged forward so he could look into Louis’ red face.

“Guys, I’m not sure this is such a good idea after all…” he said uncertainly, meeting Louis’ glazed eyes with a jolt of concern in his stomach. 

As if his words had conjured her, a particularly severe nurse suddenly peered into the room, looking at them all over her long, pointed nose. Her beady eyes narrowed disapprovingly as she took note of all of the visitors crowding around Louis’ bed, and the obvious state of the patient. She instantly set about banishing them from the room – all except for Jay, of course, though it was doubtful she would have succeeded in removing Louis’ mum even if she had attempted to. As they had found out a fair while ago, the nineteen-year-old’s stubbornness had been an inherited trait, not unique to him. 

“Come on,” said the beaked nurse impatiently as she shooed the boys out, not even giving them time to say a proper goodbye. “He needs his rest. Come back tomorrow.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of doing this?” Niall demanded, wincing as he received a particularly nasty jab in the back.

She didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all,” she deadpanned. “This is my pride and joy, why I get out of bed every morning. Now go.”

Harry met Louis’ confused gaze before they left, silently promising him to return tomorrow before he found that the door had been closed in his face.

—

The next morning, as soon as they wandered into the hospital room, they instantly knew that Louis was himself again. For one thing, he was sitting up in bed with his pillow against the headboard, and his expression was clearer than it had been in days. His eyes were sharp, crystalized blue once more. He sat fiddling with the TV remote, staring broodingly up at the screen that was attached to the ceiling above his head.

When his band-mates entered, however, his expression immediately lifted. His bright, cheeky, joyful, brilliant, everything-that-encompassed-Louis smile appeared on his lips and he dropped the remote to the mattress to open his arms wide.

“Where’s the love, boys?” he asked, beckoning them forward.

They needed no more encouragement than that. With a shared cry, they all rushed forward and tackled their injured friend against the mattress, wrapping arms and legs and every part of their bodies around the boy until they were stuck in a strange, confusing – but not unfamiliar - tangle of limbs. Louis wheezed out a groan as they all fell on top of him, smothering him with hugs and kisses, but it was immediately followed by a rich, genuine laugh that reverberated through them all. Lips pressed against Louis’ cheeks, hands seized his fingers and squeezed them tightly, his torso was draped with four other wriggling bodies and he was sure he felt more than one face nuzzle into his neck, burrowing into the spot between his shoulder and his collarbone.

God only knew what any witnesses thought as they walked past the open door.

“Alright!” Louis finally laughed in a hoarse voice. “Alright, I take it back! One at a time, I can’t breathe!”

They all drew back at his instruction – except for Niall, who had been pushed in between Louis’ body and the plastic barrier of the bed during the scuffle. His arm was still around Louis’ middle and his head was resting on the older boy’s shoulder, but he made no move to change his position. Evidently, he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet.

“Aw, Niall,” Louis cooed fondly, turning to give the blonde boy a bigger hug. It was well-known between the boys how much of a hugger the Irish member was, and Niall didn’t hold back as he wrapped both arms around his friend, nearly obscuring him entirely from view. Louis ruffled his blonde hair once or twice, smiling over his shoulder and holding him more snugly. Niall’s vivid blue eyes were a little wet by the time he pulled away, sniffing, and clambered off of the bed.

“Lou-ehh,” Zayn exclaimed exultantly (in what they had dubbed the ‘Vas Happenin’ accent’) and leaned forward to hug Louis as well. “You’re alright!” He kissed Louis’ cheek on the good side, holding his lips there and smacking them affectionately for several long seconds until they were all laughing again. He almost reached up to hold Louis’ head in his hands and ruffle his hair as he loved to do, but managed to refrain at the last second and cupped his jaw instead.

Liam was less exuberant than the others and much more considerate of the wound on the side of his friend’s head – much to Louis’ relief. Rather than crushing him, he leaned down and hugged the other boy carefully, pressing their cheeks together as he murmured, “Good to have you back with us.” He squeezed his shoulder comfortingly as he drew back with a slightly wobbly smile.

To their surprise, Harry had the simplest greeting of all. He didn’t say anything, barely even showed any relief in his face; he just walked over to the edge of the bed, gestured for Louis to move over, and then climbed onto the mattress beside him. Louis stretched his arm out for the younger boy and Harry fitted his curly head neatly against Louis’ shoulder, a tiny sigh of contentment falling from his lips.

The group shrugged, accepting the move, and then there were several seconds of metal scraping against linoleum as they dragged chairs from the other stations to set up around Louis’ bed.

Liam was the first to start questioning him. “So how are you feeling, really?”

Harry shifted slightly so he could watch Louis’ expression as he answered. The boy in question made a thoughtful noise in his throat, and his face became suddenly more sober. “I don’t know, really,” he admitted. “A bit groggy, I suppose, and I’ve got a headache like you wouldn’t believe, but it doesn’t feel like I was asleep for six days.” At their curious glances, he explained, “I’ve been befriending some of the staff here and they filled me in. It feels like it’s been forever, but I’ve never slept that long before.”

“Coma,” Zayn corrected him, smiling in spite of himself. “You were in a coma, Louis.”

“Same thing,” he shrugged. “What I really wanna know is, did anything interesting happen while I was napping?”

Later that night Harry would post that sentence as a direct quote on his twitter page,  but in that moment he merely grinned into Louis’ sleeve and let himself revel in the simple pleasure of feeling the weight of his friend’s arm around him once more.

“You were the interesting thing,” Niall pointed out, laughing once. “You think we suddenly got distracted by something other than you in a coma?”

Louis canted his head slightly in the equivalent of a shrug. “You might have. I do hope you didn’t all sit around my bed being bored for almost a week, I can’t even bear the thought of it.”

No one made any comment, but a few eyes swung to land upon Harry’s face, which had suddenly lifted into a nonchalant expression, like he would never have even considered hovering by Louis’ side. The older boy gave a soft snort at that and pulled Harry closer for a few seconds, burying his face in the boy’s curls before he released his hold. They shared a smile that had their matching, grey-rimmed eyes crinkling warmly in the corners.

“You’re all idiots,” Louis told them fondly, his eyes slightly wet and sparkling with affection as he looked around at each band mate in turn. In an instant, they were all climbing aboard the bed again, jumping out of their chairs to hug and hold Louis as well as they could in his condition. Harry cried out in protest as he was smothered as well, turning his face into the crook of Louis’ neck to protect himself, but they simply hugged him at the same time as they fell about, laughing until they were close to crying again.

When they finally pulled back, Louis’ was wiping the corner of his eyes and chuckling at the same time as he watched Zayn, Niall and Liam all try and slot themselves across the too-small space allotted to them. The bed had been made for one person, yet they still tried to fit five near-grown men all slouched together. Harry stayed as retreated as he could, tucking his knees up to allow room at the foot of the bed, until finally they were settled – sort of.

“Although,” Louis commented as he shifted back, “I would have been a little put out if you’d gone on tour without me.”

“Oh, we definitely would have,” Harry drawled from beneath Louis’ chin, his voice deeply sarcastic. “We would have just driven off and forgotten all about the other member of One Direction.”

Zayn caught on, and adopted a considering expression from where he sat with his arms draped over Louis’ legs. “Yeah, what was his name again?” he asked in a vague tone.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” Niall put in, shrugging both shoulders exaggeratedly.

Louis tried to hold a hurt-filled expression onto his features and failed miserably as a wide grin broke through. “I should have stayed asleep,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You were all much kinder in my dream-world.” Still, a small, happy sigh passed his lips as he rearranged his head on the pillows and subconsciously tightened his arm around Harry’s shoulders. Harry snuggled a little closer before anyone could see, under the guise of adjusting his body around Louis’ movements. As far as he could tell, no one noticed, and he could go on pretending he wasn’t indulging in an extreme moment of clinginess.

“At least I’ve still got some time for this to heal up before we do go away,” Louis said, gesturing toward his skull. “There’s a lot less jumping around with the album signings and that, I’ve noticed, which should help. You all have just got to keep me entertained during the release dates, okay?” He pointed an accusing finger at them all in turn, as if holding them to the promise they had never actually agreed to.

It took a moment for Harry to realise why that sentence sounded so strange to his ears. He had felt the words lightly rumble through Louis’ chest and the sensation of it against his cheek had momentarily distracted him, but now he frowned and glanced up in confusion at the others. They all shared his puzzled expression, and he witnessed his own silent questions echoing through each of his friend’s gazes, like light switches being flicked on one by one.

Louis was obviously talking about the album release dates and the accompanying signings, but they had already completed them all in the previous month, leading up to their tour preparation. The eldest member had sat through each one dutifully, even if he had resorted to ‘jumping around’ at one point during the private signing sessions to keep from becoming too agitated and restless, and yet he was speaking like they hadn’t happened yet.

“Lou,” Niall began, but paused again as they all swung their heads toward the sound of the sudden, quiet knock on the hospital room door. The wood was eased back a few fractions, and then two tiny blonde heads appeared at waist-height.

“Louis!”

“Oh, my God,” Louis drawled happily, and his face absolutely glowed as he sat up in the bed to watch his sisters pour into the hospital room, one after the other, each wearing their school uniform. Harry had no chance of escaping from his position beneath Louis’ arm, but the other boys managed to leap out of the line of fire before the girls stampeded the bed and flew at Louis without any hesitation. Niall stumbled on his chair as he went, tangling his legs up in it, and there was a noisy clatter as he fought to get free of the furniture clinging to his limbs. The racket didn’t bother them for even a moment, as it was instantly smothered by ecstatic, high-pitched squeals and a stream of babbled words as each girl tried to talk over the other at once.

The twins, Phoebe and Daisy, clambered over Louis’ body with reckless abandon, elbowing both him and Harry several times in the process and nearly knocking the breath from their lungs. They were not content to sit on his lap, instead trying to bury their faces into his neck and hug him at the same time. Felicity took their place on his lap, bouncing happily on his knees. While Lottie had some semblance of restraint, she still hopped straight onto the end of the bed and pulled her feet up, beaming hugely as she watched Louis and Harry get overrun.

“God, you guys are heavy all together,” Louis groaned from beneath the wriggling girls, his voice just a painful wheeze. “Are you sure I’ve only been out a week? Feels like you’re all at least five years heavier.”

“Seconded.” Harry’s concurrence was muffled against Daisy’s hand as she pressed it against his face to get more leverage.

“Shut up, Lou,” Lottie told him happily, batting lightly at his ankles. Her smile was so wide that her words were lilted up as they passed through her lips, and her eyes were overly bright. 

Louis peered between the twins’ writhing bodies to smile at her. “I love you, too,” he said teasingly, the tip of his tongue poking out at her. Before he could needle her anymore, Phoebe slipped and fell forward, knocking him back down with a soft cry for help. 

Eventually, Jay took mercy on her son and laughingly called the girls away; telling them that they still had to go to school and that their brother would still be awake once they got out in the afternoon. Louis gave a slight groan of thanks as the girls grudgingly climbed off him, peppering his face with sloppy kisses and leaving smears of bubblegum lip gloss on his cheeks as they went. Harry received a few pink swipes on his chin as the girls’ affection reached out and included him, as well.

Both boys heaved a sigh as the weight lifted off them, holding their battered torsos and rocking forward in an almost identical fashion. The girls were still giggling as they rushed out of the door, calling out their adoring farewells as they ran.

“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Jay said suddenly, catching her son’s attention with a hand on his shoulder, “El’s driving up today to come and see you. She was up visiting her grandparents when you had your accident, but she should be here around noon or so. And she feels guilty enough for not being here earlier, so don’t make it any worse by teasing her.” The last sentence was added with a stern look that was belied by the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Louis didn’t even blink. “Who?”

—

—

—

“Who are you talking about?”

A brief, awkward lull followed his words. Niall let out a small giggle, just because there was an uncomfortable silence, and Louis blinked his tired eyes at them all in turn with quiet curiosity. Jay cracked a confused smile, but it was clear that none of them quite knew what was happening. What might have been a joke had now extended long past the moment where Lou would have grinned or laughed, and even so, he just wasn’t the type of person to joke about something like that no matter how he seemed. He never belittled someone just for the sake of it.

“Eleanor, Lou,” his mum repeated, as if he had simply misheard her.

Louis’ eyebrows scrunched up in a confused expression and he looked around to meet Harry’s gaze, genuine bewilderment in his eyes. His silent look begged an explanation as to why everyone was looking at him so intently, and Harry immediately knew that Louis wasn’t pulling any prank or trying to trick them – he was honestly at a loss.

“He really doesn’t know,” Harry said out loud, looking around at the others. “He doesn’t know who we’re talking about.”

“Who are you talking about?” Louis cut in. “Who’s Eleanor?”

Liam nudged the bedridden boy’s foot. “Come on, Lou. You know Eleanor. Tall, brunette, model… fit?” He said the last uncertainly, both with an edge of humour and discomfort at describing her as such. “You ditched all of us to hang out with her for the majority of last week at Milkshake City?”

Louis alone seemed to retain the ability to smile. “She sounds like a cool girl and everything, definitely my type, but I have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re talking about, mate.” He caught his mother’s eye as he said that last, and even added, “I really don’t know anyone called Eleanor. Oh, wait –” Everyone’s eyes brightened. “- I think I met a fan by that name, like, a few months ago. So that’s one.” He gave a little shrug just as all other shoulders dropped in disappointment.

As they did, Louis’ tired face suddenly became a little more serious, a little greyer. “What’s going on?” he asked, and his voice had finally dropped to its normal register, without inflection or forced humour to lessen the tension. “Why are you all looking at me like that? Who’s Eleanor?”

It was Jay who spoke first, with a quiet, “I’ll go talk to the doctor” and a gentle touch to Louis’ cheek before she exited the hospital room.

“Eleanor’s your girlfriend, mate,” Zayn said once she was gone, resting a hand on Louis’ leg.

Harry very nearly opened his mouth to protest to that, for some reason he could not really put his finger on. He almost burst out that Eleanor wasn’t really Louis’ girlfriend – they’d never really defined it like that – and that they shouldn’t give him false information when it wasn’t that serious. It was only when the words were rolling off his tongue that he realised that there were a little more pressing issues at hand, and he shut his mouth with a quiet clack of teeth.

Louis’ eyebrows shot right up. “My girlfriend?” he repeated sceptically. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Niall nodded, far more subdued than usual. His ivory forehead was creased with worry. “Yeah, you do. Eleanor.”

“But I don’t know anyone called Eleanor!”

“Yeah, you do.”

“He’s right, Lou.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, guys!”

The conversation continued much in that manner until Jay returned with the doctor at her side, and they ushered the confused patient into a private consultation to re-examine the damage done to his skull. The MRI results were still the same, and their advice still very sombre, but they did agree that the possibility of some measure of memory loss was not exactly low.

Louis was still stuck in an infinite loop of denying their claims and his friends were stuck trying to convince him that he had known Eleanor for weeks, yet he took the advice to relax and not to strain himself with every bit of seriousness he could muster. The doctor still had a strange look around his eyes as he watched the young man, as if he were waiting for him to keel over any second, and it made them all feel uncomfortable. They were aware of the potential for further damage from the concussion and the heavy blood loss, but seeing it written on the professional’s face made it so much worse.

Louis had passed the initial tests given to him upon awakening, proving that he had enough recollection to know his name, the year and general facts about his life, and so there had been no serious damage done to his mind. While he claimed he felt no different, and was aware of the current date with no difficulty, it was obvious once they talked it through with him that he was missing some experiences over the last few months. They were told that the relatively mild amnesia was indicative of the damage done by his head wound and that since the vast majority of his memories were still intact, that they would undoubtedly come back fairly easily.

Finally, it was decided that Louis should simply continue his bed rest and, hopefully, his memory would return to normal soon enough.

Far too much time had passed before Niall finally pointed out that someone should probably call Eleanor and tell her to cancel the visit today. 

—

“HA! Snap,” Louis crowed, raking the considerable amount of cards toward his side of the bed. Zayn was sitting opposite him, and he let his head fall into his hands with a mournful groan as he watched the deck being dragged away from him. Despite having a broken skull Louis was still uncannily skilled at the game, and he had won the last several games in the row – and that was after Harry had deferred to Zayn in order to grab a snack with Niall.

“No-o,” Zayn lamented.

Louis grinned widely. “Sorry, babe. You’ve still got a chance,” he pointed out, gesturing to the pathetically thin stacks they both still held in their hands.

“Yeah, right,” Zayn complained, but he was laughing, too.

In truth, they weren’t behaving much different from usual despite having the oldest member confined to a hospital bed. Louis’ concussion had improved somewhat, enough that they weren’t glared at by the nurse every minute they spent in the room, and so he was back to his chirpy self – with the exception of his memory.

Nobody was pushing about Eleanor; they barely mentioned her name at all while they spoke with him, except for the occasional, very casual reference to something Louis had told them or a memory they had of her in the hopes that it might jog his mind a bit. Each time, Louis visibly searched for some recollection of it but inevitably ended up shrugging one shoulder, smiling blandly and changing the subject without another word on the matter.

More than anything, Louis was bored. They’d had to bring in card games, board games, laptops and his phone to entertain him but even the myriad of get-well wishes on twitter could not keep him satisfied for long. He was arguably the most active one out of the band and with the breaks between visits without conversation and his time shut up in bed, he was becoming stir-crazy. It was even worse than how he had acted with the flu before he collapsed, and unfortunately, dumping Harry in the bed beside him was no longer the solution it had been earlier, no matter how much either boy advocated the idea.  

They knew because they had already tried it once and it had failed spectacularly.

Now, they simply resigned themselves to passing the time they had with him with as much fun as possible.

With that in mind, Liam shoved Zayn over and took a place next to him on the increasingly crowded mattress to join the game. He lifted Louis’ blanketed feet into his lap before drumming his hands against his ankles excitedly. “Go on, then,” he said cheekily, and began mixing the deck back into one pile again despite Louis’ protest. “If you’re that good, let’s see you verse both of us and Zayn and I will share a pile. If either of us wins, we both add our scores together, agreed?”

“Three person snap?” Louis said, impressed. Liam’s smile widened into a challenging grin as he nodded. Instantly, Louis was on board; he could not resist a dare of any kind. “You’re on, Payne!”

When Niall and Harry returned several minutes later, their bought-and-paid-for snacks clamped in happy hands, they approached the room to the sounds of shouting and loud laughter mingling together.

“MY HAND IS ON THE DECK!”

“Your finger is sitting on top of mine right now – LOOK! YOU’RE WIGGLING IT RIGHT NOW! How can you say you’ve won?!”

“My hand’s beneath both of yours, what are you talking about!”

“Look at the – LOOK at the deck, it’s right there! No, don’t move your hand about so it looks like you’re on the bottom, just – OI!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Niall laughed, watching the boys wrestle and fight as they struggled to push their hand into the right position on the deck. Liam had his free hand clamped around Louis’ wrist, trying to pry his hand away from the pile, while Zayn was trying to wriggling his fingers beneath so that his was the only one on top of the cards.

“They’re cheating, that’s what’s happening!” Louis yelled indignantly, but there was amusement in his voice. “It’s the only way they can win!”

“It’s two on one anyway,” the Irish member pointed out.

“Exactly!” said Liam. “That’s why we can’t let him win again!”

“It’s a matter of pride!” Zayn added, and there was a full smile stretching his cheeks.

They fought one another until Louis finally relented, accepting their offer of a ‘draw’ between the three of them. With a resigned sigh, he leant back into his pillows with a melodramatic look of disappointment and affront colouring his features. Then, as his head rolled to the side absently, he caught sight of Harry and perked up again.

“Harr-eh!” he greeted him enthusiastically. “You’ll play me again, won’t you? He doesn’t try and cheat, you know. He has integrity.” The latter sentence was directed at Liam and Zayn who both smiled back at him, unapologetic.

“Thanks, Lou,” said Harry.

As he approached the side of the bed, wearing a bright, beaming smile on his face and sipping from his Styrofoam cup, Louis reached out a lazy hand to rest on the crook of Harry’s arm and opened his mouth in a familiar, dramatic expression that told them that he was about to burst into an impromptu musical serenade that would undoubtedly dissolve into pointless mewling noises until one of them grabbed a pillow to hit him in the face.

But, as Louis’ face twisted into an emotional grimace and his lips parted for the first note, he suddenly stopped. His mouth stayed open for a second, mid-word, and then he moved his lips silently for a few seconds before closing them completely with a frown. His hand fell from Harry’s arm. “Huh.”

The boys promptly burst into laughter at the look of perplexity on his face. “What was that?” Niall asked, sniggering under his breath. Even unintentionally, Louis always had the power to make the blonde boy laugh.

Louis’ blue eyes were slightly confused. “I forgot the lyrics,” he admitted, an odd look on his face.

“Really?” Liam’s tone was incredulous, but he patted Louis’ knee comfortingly and smiled in a sympathetic kind of way. “I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. There has to be one song that you don’t know off-by-heart.”

“What song was it?” Harry asked curiously. He was considering looking it up on the net so Louis would be able to reacquaint himself with the lines again.

Louis looked up to meet his eyes directly. “It’s our song,” he said. His voice was hovering somewhere between embarrassed and concerned, like he wasn’t sure whether he should laugh at himself just yet. “Oh, gosh, I can’t even remember the name of it now. You know…” He clicked his fingers a few times experimentally, his eyes going far away as he searched for a melody. Still looking afar, he said, “God, I know this. How does it start again? Come on, you guys know this. It’s our song – our first single, what’s the name of it again?”

“What makes you beautiful?” Harry suggested uncertainly.

Instantly, Louis rounded on him with a relieved expression. “That’s it, Harry, thank you. What makes you beautiful,” he repeated to himself. “God, the things that slip from your mind, eh? Unbelievable.” He muttered once more under his breath in a similarly incredulous tone, shaking his head at himself, and so he did not immediately catch the sudden worried looks that his friends shot each other over his head. They’d each sung that song a million times over, heard it play so many times that it was almost annoying; how could he forgetthat?

Despite their efforts, it was only too obvious that Louis had noticed their reactions. In a way that made Harry’s heart clench painfully, the sheepish look cooled in the older boy’s eyes as his expression closed off, concealing from them the emotions he did not want to share. In a matter of seconds, the atmosphere in the room had soured and left them sitting in near silence.

“Um, you know what?” Louis said after a moment, and his voice was determined to be nonchalant. One hand rose to the bandage on the side of his head as he spoke, his fingertips fiddling with the edges. “I’m actually pretty worn out. It was probably all that annihilating everyone during cards.” The joke was weak, but his attempt at a smile was worse. “I think I’m just gonna get some sleep, boys.”

Harry was potentially the only one there to truly recognise the mood that overtaken the eldest member in that moment, having been the only one to experience every single one of Louis’ moods through living together. It felt like he was, especially as he watched Zayn reach for Louis’ hands rather than get up and leave; Harry knew that Louis wanted nothing more than for them go, as soon as possible. He might not agree with the idea, but right now, as his blue eyes flickered up to meet Harry’s in an earnest, silent plea for assistance, it was clear what Louis truly wanted.

Harry spoke up for him. “He’s right. We’re supposed to be meeting management this afternoon anyway, remember?”

If the others thought it unusual that Harry would be voluntarily choosing to attend such a boring meeting or even that he would suggest leaving Louis’ side, they didn’t show it. Instead, they said their goodbyes to Louis with a promise to be back as soon as they could and then began gathering their things that had inexplicably scattered themselves all over the room.

Liam stayed behind for a minute longer than anyone else and sat opposite Louis, speaking so quietly by the older boy’s ear that Harry didn’t hear a word of what was being said. Louis nodded once, before Liam squeezed his hand and drew him into a hug. When they parted, Louis fiddled with his fringe in such a way that kept his face averted for several seconds as Liam got to his feet.

“Ready to go?” Zayn asked as he passed Harry, but the curly-haired lad was still watching Lou worriedly.

“He’ll be alright,” Zayn said in an undertone, following Harry’s gaze. “He’s always alright.”

Harry wanted to agree with him, and may have even mumbled something to that effect, but it was still unbelievably difficult to drag his feet out of the room and leave Lou behind, even though Louis had desired and it Harry himself had facilitated their exit. He found it was becoming harder each time, causing him pain in a way that he didn’t want to look too closely at. Harry rubbed absently at his sternum, trying to alleviate the very real ache that had blossomed in his chest. He could feel an almost physical draw pulling him back every time he tried to go, and as he spotted the anguished look that appeared on Louis’ face as he watched Harry leave, the younger boy wondered if he could feel it, too.

If Zayn’s arm had not wrapped around his shoulders at the point and helped him through the doorway, Harry was certain he wouldn’t have been able to leave and walk away.

He was certain because the second that Zayn removed his hand to press the button for the lift, Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He broke off from the rest of the group before they could think to halt his progress.

He returned to Louis’ room to find his friend still sitting in the same spot, one hand pressed over his forehead and the other curled into a tight fist around the bed covers, and the rush of emotion that Harry felt was tinged with a strange, sweet pain. However, it didn’t stop him from striding across the distance between them and slipping his arms around Louis’ waist in an embrace so tight he could wrap his hands around his own biceps with ease. Wordlessly, he settled his chin on Louis’ shoulder and closed his eyes. He didn’t move a single inch until he felt Louis’ arms come around him in return, and even then, it was only to shuffle just a little bit closer so that Harry could feel Louis’ heartbeat opposite his own.

Harry thought that he had been trying to comfort Louis, but when the older boy began to pull back with a soft, shuddering sigh, Harry found that he was the one that didn’t want to let go yet. Nevertheless, he withdrew the second Louis did.

Harry’s eyes were wide and painfully earnest as he looked up into Louis’ tired face and murmured, “Okay?”

Blinking rapidly, Louis turned Harry’s face away with a light tap to his cheek. When Harry’s features swung back into view, a tentative grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, okay,” Louis mumbled. Then, he jerked his head in the direction of the door. “Go on, or you’ll be late.”

“I don’t want to go, anyway.”

“Too bad,” Louis replied with a gentle shove, pushing him off of the bed. “And while you’re at it, tell them I want a better TV in here. This one doesn’t even get cartoons.”

—

—

—

 

“It’ll just be a week.”

“No,” Harry protested for the second time, shaking his head in abject denial. “No way. We can’t go without Louis.”

“I agree,” Liam piped up. His expression was respectful, but undeniably determined. “There’s no point in trying to get us out there when Louis’ still in hospital.”

A few weeks ago, before the accident and even before Harry and Louis had fallen ill, One Direction had agreed to what they’d intended to be a brief fly-out to Ireland to meet some of the fans before doing a quick circuit in London on the way home. It would just be a few interviews before they were monopolised by the tour. Amongst the band members, it had been a shared, unspoken agreement that there would be no such undertaking with Louis sitting alone in his hospital bed with a broken skull and a battered brain, yet it seemed that their management had not yet received the same message.

“It’s not fair to go without him,” Niall added, “and we can always do more interviews by radio or phone without flying out.” The fact that he was choosing to forego a trip to his homeland should have been significant enough for their handlers to realise that this was an important issue to the boys.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Their newest press manager was a woman named Amanda who had yet to grasp what it meant to be one of the One Direction handlers. She offered them a bland, condescending smile as she spoke, as if she were talking to four twelve-year-olds. “The thing is, we want to reassure all the fans that Louis is up and well, and the best way for us to do that is to just send you off on your way like you were meant to. You can go to Ireland, chat with the fans, then come back through England and be back home before you know it. Lou won’t mind, I’m sure!” She didn’t appear to notice the four glares that were thrown her way the second that she dared to use the nickname she had no claim to. “What do you say?”

“We say no,” Harry said bluntly. His usual, polite self had been buried along with his co-operation the moment they had suggested that Louis be left behind while they went away.

Amanda the walking-corporate-smile looked mildly confused. “What do you mean by that?” she asked politely.

“No, we’re not going without Louis. He’s not ‘up and well’, and we won’t leave him while he’s in hospital. You do realise that he has just woken up from a coma, right?”

She gave an airy laugh that made every single one of them want to punch her in her pretty, pretty face. “Of course I know that,” she said casually, brushing the matter away with her hand like it wasn’t a matter of their friend’s life and death. “I may be new to the One Direction team, but I do know the basics.”

There was a small frown on Zayn’s face as he leaned forward to catch her attention. “Do you know how to count?” he asked.

Now, the corporate smile slipped a fraction. “Pardon me?”

“Do you know how to count?” he repeated clearly, without breaking eye contact.

“Of course I do,” she said, adding a light laugh at the end. If she had intended to break the tension in the room, she failed miserably, as it only strengthened the animosity they felt toward her.

“Good!” Zayn leant away to gesture at the assembled group, and even adopted the same light, patronizing tone that she had been using while speaking to them. He illustrated the numbers on his fingers as he spoke. “There are five members of One Direction, you see, and there is one in a hospital bed right now, leaving four of us sitting here in front of you. As you must know by now, four is not the same as five, so without Louis, you can’t send One Direction to Ireland. It’s mathematically impossible.”

Niall’s grin was lightning fast, but for once there was little true humour in it.

For the first time, the corporate smile seemed to understand that she was dealing with four very loyal young men rather than the toddlers she had obviously perceived them to be. She drew back slightly, her expression surprised for a brief moment before it became calculating. After several long seconds, she nodded to herself and then rose to her feet before disappearing back out of the studio office.

Thirty-seven minutes, five calls to management and one conversation with Uncle Simon later, four-fifths of one direction were forced to sullenly pack their bags for their imminent trip to Ireland.

—

Harry was uncharacteristically quiet on the plane trip over, and it was no secret why. The rest of the lads shot him a few concerned glances on the way, but the youngest member wasn’t sad exactly, he was just a little more withdrawn than usual. He missed his best friend, like they all did. Their goodbye with Louis had been far too hurried, and it had surreal to have to bid him farewell while they left when their natural instinct was to take him along. 

It also felt a little strange to have that extra, empty seat glaring at them where Louis would usually be bouncing around and talking to anyone that could remain awake. Even Zayn, who was frequently the first to begin dozing, was still wide and awake and restless halfway through the flight. They spoke a few times, but conversation wasn’t really necessary.

When they arrived to their hotel it was even more obvious, though. If they’d been told to imagine how their lives would feel without one member there for a week, they might have said that it would be a little strange at first, but they would get used to it. The reality was far different to their expectations. Until that moment, they hadn’t realised just how much time they all spent together. The most separation they’d all had was when one of the boys were sick or they went home for a few days during a break in schedule. Before that, it was when they all went to their separate apartments but again, they were all within fifty metres of each other, so it was hardly a big gap. If one got the desire to see their friends during the night, they could just pop over and say hello at three a.m. – at their own peril, perhaps, but the option was there. Hell, Harry and Louis didn’t even separate when they returned home, and more times than not they stayed together when they fell asleep.

So when it came to driving up to their signings and seeing all the fans together, Harry still felt a mild swooping sensation in his belly as he looked over to find only three other members sitting next to him. Who would have guessed having an even number of members would feel so odd?

It wasn’t even just the fact that one of them was missing – it was the fact that they were missing him. They all longed for Louis’ exuberance with as much fervour as they sometimes wished he’d just shut the hell up, and the car felt oddly quiet without him. It was like seeing Zayn without his quiff or seeing Niall without food in his hands: unnatural and disturbing.

—

On their first night overseas, they all ended up collapsed on the couch together as they often did after a long day. Niall was on one end, squished under Liam’s arm, and then Daddy Direction had his other arm around Zayn as well, who had Harry’s knees half in his lap as the youngest boy curled up in the corner. He had already turned his focus to his phone, trying to get into contact with Louis for their daily check-in.

“I got scratched,” Niall complained, examining the reddened lines carving their way down his forearm. “Please tell me I wasn’t the only one again.” He looked down the line of his friends, yet saw no marks on any of them. “Unbelievable. This happens every time.”

“I guess they just love you more than us, Nialler,” Zayn shrugged.

“At least more violently than us,” Liam added, smiling a little. He patted the blonde boy’s shoulder in sympathy though, to soften the blow. “And they wonder why we don’t wear our favourite clothes to the signings anymore… it’s ‘cause we like to keep them intact, thank you very much.”

“They tore another one of my sleeves today,” Zayn piped up then, turning his head to look at them in the face. His eyebrows were raised. “It was skin tight, too. It was insane.”

“I’d tell you to skip sleeves altogether,” Niall said, “but, uh… well.” He held his up arm again as evidence. Then, he nodded down to the other end of the couch at the distracted, curly-haired boy. “What about you, Harry?” he asked. “Did you have any casualties?”

Harry only reacted when Zayn nudged him lightly in the ribs. His head shot up, and his gaze swung around for a second. “Huh?”

“You alright?” Liam asked. “What are you looking at?”

Harry’s eyebrows pulled into a slight frown as he returned his gaze to the small screen in front of him. “Louis hasn’t updated his twitter yet… he said he’d keep in touch to let us know he was okay, but there’s nothing here.”

“Here,” Zayn requested, holding out his hand for the phone. Harry hesitated only a second before passing it over. He pressed refresh, waited a few seconds, and then satisfaction bloomed in his face along with a smile. “There,” he said, “see? ‘I’m missing my boys already. Hope you’re having a good time for me, lads, lots of love xxxx’. Oh, look he even gave us a kiss each this time! He’s fine, Harry.” He patted the younger boy’s knee comfortingly. “All’s well, mate.”

“He’s probably just bored,” Liam chuckled fondly.

“Oh, yeah,” Niall agreed, adopting a faux-worried look. “He’s probably bouncing off the walls back home. Hope they thought to bring him a Pokemon or something.”

A grin lit up Zayn’s face. “I hope they didn’t leave him in that hospital bed, though… can you imagine?”

They boys continued chatting animatedly their faces all stretching into happy grins as they tried to picture what their bandmate was doing. The ideas ranged from playing basketball with the hospital supplies to arranging elaborate stunts through the staff and the other patients, and soon they were all laughing again, rather than worrying about him. They all knew how fast Louis could bounce back from things, always laughing five minutes after bursting into tears, and so they weren’t too concerned about how he would heal, or how his memory would come back.

Harry, however, was sinking further into the cushions and staring at the latest tweet left on his roommate’s page. He knew that Louis wasn’t in his hospital bed anymore, but selfishly, he didn’t want to share the latest message with the others quite yet.

I miss your cooking, @Harry_Styles xx

Back in London, Louis nodded in satisfaction at the little message he’d sent, ignoring the sudden explosion of ‘Larry Stylinson’ tweets in the aftermath of it. He had seen the look on Harry’s face as he left the room last time, and he knew that the boy would want a little extra reassurance. He could be one hell of a worrier sometimes.

He had thought they would be wiped after the signings, and so Louis was surprised when he saw a new message on his phone.

@Louis_Tomlinson Please leave our home intact. No experimenting.

Harry smiled at the image of Louis in the kitchen, trying vainly to put out the smoky concoction left on the stove. In truth, it wasn’t so much as an image as a memory.

@Harry_Styles I make no promises. Bring me back a souvenir.

@Louis_Tomlinson Wish you were here instead. I already miss you, love xx

Harry gnawed at his bottom lip as he read the message over, his thumb hesitating over the select button so send the tweet out to the wide, judgemental twitter world. He hovered in indecision for almost a minute before he made a slight amendment to make it suitable for the public eye.

@Louis_Tomlinson If you’re lucky. Miss you already, pumpkin xx

So, perhaps it was still less appropriate than most celebrities, but for them it was practically a casual greeting. Louis’ reply came instantaneously, and Harry instinctively knew it would be his last for the evening.

@Harry_Styles I miss you, too. Be safe x 

It was only then that Harry was able to tune back into the conversation that had been carrying on around him, and found that Liam was sharing his dislike for the hospital rooms, sympathising for Louis who was undoubtedly still confined there.

“I had nightmares while I was sleeping in that room,” Harry told them casually, stretching to put his phone on the counter like a good band member and focussing on the topic. “I can’t blame him for wanting to get out of there.”

Liam looked concerned, but Zayn asked curiously, “Really? What about?”

“You know when you have a dream, like, in another dream?” he tried to explain, making vague hand gestures with his hands. He was tired, okay? “And then you wake up but you’re still dreaming?”

“Yeah.”

“Well it was like that. First I dreamt that Louis had woken up already and we were talking, and then in the next one he died.”

Niall glanced over with a wearily confused look in his eye. “But Louis did die,” he said, yawning. Instantly, both Zayn and Liam’s head snapped toward him so fast they looked like they’d get whiplash, but the Irish boy’s eyes were closed as he smothered the yawn in his palm. He continued obliviously, much to everyone else’s horror. “I mean, for a few seconds or so, but technically you were right about that.” He stopped short as he noticed the looks he was getting. “What?” he asked self-consciously.

“What?” Harry echoed, in a very different tone. He jerked up from the cushions, pushing himself onto his feet as he looked at them all. His accusing gaze found Liam, who looked incredibly guilty all of a sudden.

“We didn’t think you needed something else to worry about,” he said sheepishly. “You were so strung out after the accident and you were sleeping all over the place, we just thought it’d be best if we kept it from you for now. We would have mentioned it eventually!”

“Really, it wasn’t even ten seconds,” Zayn added. He looked like he was trying to mollify his friend, but Harry’s eyes just narrowed even further, his mouth falling open in outrage. “His heart just… stuttered a bit, that’s all.”

“And you didn’t think this was cause for concern?!” Harry demanded.

“Of course we did! At… the time. But Louis’ fine now, you know that! His heart is obviously beating now. They said something about the blood flow being bad after the medication, or something, and how it wasn’t really the head wound that did it, just the treatment, but the point is that he’s completely fine now and there’s nothing wrong with his heart.”

“Really, he’s okay,” Niall tried to put in, but he received three glares instead. He paused, blinking his droopy eyes, and then shrugged. If they didn’t need him, he was free to take his leave. “Well, on that note I have to get some sleep, lads. Sorry, Harry,” he mumbled sincerely as he passed, squeezing his friends shoulder absently before he shuffled toward his bed, head hanging down with fatigue.

“Ugh,” Zayn groaned as he watched his Irish friend leave the room. “Why is he so hard to stay mad at?”

“I know,” Liam agreed in a murmur. “I think it’s the big blue eyes. They’re just impossible to glare at. The trick is to look a little to the left so…” He trailed off as he saw Harry’s face once more, and he and Zayn awkwardly broke off their gossip session.

“I’m calling him,” Harry said firmly, reaching for his phone.

Fortunately, Zayn was too quick for him; he reached behind his head and swiftly stood from the couch to keep it out of Harry’s grasp. “No-o, you’re not. You really think Louis needs to hear about his death right now?” It wasn’t the right thing to say.

“No one thought to tell him that he died?”

Liam stepped in at that point, standing in between the two and putting a calming hand on Harry’s shoulder. It was remarkable that Louis was still somehow causing a crisis when he wasn’t even in the same country. “Jay would have told him by now,” he told the scowling boy. “We thought it best he hear it from her first, and she wanted to be the one to explain it. For one, she remembered the medical jargon. And two, this here –” He gestured to Harry’s glowering face and the defensive stance he had taken. “—is exactly why we didn’t tell you right away. You’re overreacting.”

Harry’s scowl deepened for a moment before he relaxed slightly. As much as he hated to admit it, if he responded with ‘I am not overreacting!’ as he might have wished to, it would only prove Liam’s point. He took a breath and let his posture loosen somewhat.

“Good,” Liam said, without condescension in his tone. “Also, think about the time. Louis might already be trying to rest by now so it’s not a good idea to start calling him. Wait until morning and see how you are then, alright mate?”

The curly-haired boy almost glared at his friend again, simply because of the fact that he’d used Harry’s protectiveness against him, but he couldn’t deny that it was working.

“Fine,” he finally agreed, slumping in defeat. “I won’t call him. Can I have my phone back now?”

Zayn remained slightly wary, but handed the mobile over nonetheless. He hooked an arm around Harry’s neck as he did, pulling his friend into a side hug and pressing their heads together briefly before letting go.

“Now that that’s all sorted,” he said, “I think I’m gonna follow Niall’s lead. Good night, guys.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Liam. His brown eyes were as warm as ever as he looked at Harry one last time. “Are you okay now? I promise, Louis’ completely fine.”

—

They continued reassuring Harry – and themselves – for the entirety of the trip, but by the time that the blessed end of their circuit crawled toward them it had become a constant effort to remain calm and hold their smiles in place. Louis had been out of contact the previous two nights, and it had put everyone on edge. Even their private text messages had gone unanswered, and though their phone calls to management had resulted in instant assurance that Louis was well, it was impossible to rest until they could see it for themselves.

On top of that frustration, their flight back to London had been delayed, leaving them sitting in Ireland’s airport for far longer than they’d intended. Moreover, the lateness of their arrival back home resulted in a tight schedule that did not even allow them to return home – or visit Louis – before they were being ushered into a new shopping centre to greet their very loud, adoring fans.

Harry’s feet tapped impatiently beneath the long panel that had been set up for them, and his hands fidgeted with the material of his shirt. Occasionally Zayn would shoot him a look that silently begged him to relax and smile like a normal person, rather than a crazed lunatic, but his beseeching glances had very little effect. The only thing that stopped Harry from rushing behind the curtain and screaming out his frustration for a good ten minutes were the microphones that had been placed around the area when their arrival had been announced; if he were to start shrieking, it would undoubtedly be picked up by the mikes and blasted across the ears of hundreds of innocent shoppers.

Although, given the sheer volume of the shrieks that had cascaded over them upon entrance, Harry felt it would only be fair in returning the favour.

When they finally neared their apartment complex, having been informed that Louis had been granted leave to go home while they were away, Harry knees were bouncing so much he was even receiving dark looks from Niall, who was usually the most carefree of all of them. It was only when they all contributed their own limbs in the effort to keep Harry still that they managed to pin him down to the seat and keep him there for the remaining duration of the car ride.

Harry barely waited for the van to come to a complete stop before he was scrambling out of the door and leaving the others behind. He didn’t even have the patience to take his bags from the back as he was supposed to, so instead he shamelessly left them for the others to carry up for him. They noticed instantly.

“Oi!” Liam cried indignantly, as Harry disappeared from the car. “We’re not your bellboys, you know!”

“Thank you!” Harry shouted back over his shoulder as he ran.

Niall stuck his head out of the window and, with a wide grin on his face, bellowed, “YOU DIVA!”

Harry was bouncing on the balls of his feet all the way up to their flat, too excited to keep still for even a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so eager to see someone after such a pathetically short amount of time apart, but then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been apart from Louis. His heart was even beating a little faster than usual with anticipation.

His footsteps were loud and obnoxious as he raced through the halls like a child, and his lips were already splitting in a grin as he approached their front door. He didn’t bother checking the locks or knocking.

“Lou-is!”

Harry burst in to the flat, ready to greet his best friend with a cruel amount of exuberance, but instead stopped dead and blinked in surprise as he looked into a pretty face that was not the one he was looking for.

Eleanor Calder was standing in his apartment.

She was hovering across the kitchen table from Louis, and though she had turned to face him upon his noisy entrance it was clear that they had been in the middle of a conversation before he arrived.

Harry stomach instantly turned to ice. He could feel the cold shards piercing his belly as he moved to shut the door behind him, feeling a slew of questions rush through his mind. With a surge of irrational fear, he wondered if Louis’ memory had returned while they had been away. It would certainly explain why he had been out of contact over the last few days, and why they had been forced to use a far less appealing conduit to get any news about his condition. Had Harry just unwittingly wandered in – or, more accurately, threw himself - on their reunion?

The thought of ruining such reconciliation didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have.

Though he had been momentarily startled into silence, a wide smile now blossomed on Louis’ face and he stood up from his chair. “Harry!” he exulted. “You’re home!” Harry wondered if he imagined the trace of relief he heard in his friend’s voice.

Eleanor offered them both a small, withdrawn smile and gestured to the door with one hand. “You’ve obviously got a lot of catching up to do, so I’ll probably just head out. We’ll talk again soon, okay?” she said to Louis in an uncertain voice, and he nodded.

“It was good – talking to you today,” Louis offered, but no matter how much enthusiasm he tried to inject in his voice, he could not take away from the true sentence that echoed beneath his kind words: ‘It was nice to meet you’. By that sentence alone, Harry knew that Louis had definitely not regained his memories quite yet.

“Yeah, you too.” Eleanor’s returning smile made it look like she was clenching her teeth together to keep her expression neutral, and Harry felt a sudden wave of sympathy for her. He chose not to dwell on the fact that his sense of goodwill had only materialised after he felt certain that Louis did not remember her.

“Wait,” he interrupted, “please don’t leave because of me. I need to get my things from the car anyway, so if you want to stay…?”  

“No, I was just leaving,” Eleanor said hurriedly, already heading toward the exit like she was being chased out. Louis’ brow creased in a distressed frown at her obvious discomfort, but he made no move to stop her from leaving as she waved goodbye and disappeared around the door.

Harry watched her go in perplexity, and after a moment Louis came to join him at his side.

“That was awkward, wasn’t it?” he asked in a low voice, and his mouth twisted in a light grimace. “I thought it might have been just me, what with not knowing her very well anymore, but it wasn’t. That was just really, really awkward.”

“Yeah, I think it was. Sorry.”

They both looked out of the empty doorway for a long moment until Harry’s return sprang to both of their minds again. Louis twitched like he’d been poked, and then turned with a wide-open grin for Harry like he’d just noticed him standing there. Harry’s face lit up in response, and in an instant, Eleanor was forgotten again like she had never even been in the room, or their lives.  

“Lou!” Harry exclaimed happily, and swept his arms around Louis’ middle in pull him off the ground in a tight hug. His friend was lighter than he remembered, and judging by the slight impressions of his ribs that Harry could feel beneath the cotton of his t-shirt, he had evidently failed to put on the weight he had lost during his convalescence. It didn’t matter to Harry in the slightest in that particular moment, however, because Louis had wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist and they were spinning happily through the kitchen, whooping and laughing.

When they were both pleasantly out of breath, Harry set Louis upon the top of the counter and stayed close to him for a few seconds, their foreheads hovering close together but not touching. Louis reached up to tug his grey beanie back into place over his hair, and for a moment Harry saw the white corner of a bandage poking out before it was concealed again. Once his head was covered, Louis caught Harry’s cheeks between his fingers and beamed, which was an incredibly potent sight from just a few inches away.

Staring at the blinding smile on Louis’ face, Harry thought about what he’d learned overseas and how his friend had actually died. It seemed impossible to reconcile the two ideas while he was face-to-face with Louis, feeling familiar warmth settle beneath his skin, and yet at the same time Harry knew that he treasured his best friend all the more, knowing he had almost lost him.

“Wait a second,” Harry murmured, and placed his hands on Louis’ knees for a moment to push back a step. “Let me take a look at you.”

At first, Louis looked suspicious. “Why?”

“Because this is the first time in weeks that I’ve seen you in anything but a hospital gown and bed sheets, and I’d like to appreciate it,” he explained, lifting an eyebrow. In truth, Louis was as dressed down as he could be without donning the onesie he adored; he was clad only in a plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, but it was a remarkable improvement from the checked gown Harry had last seen him in. Louis even struck a model-like pose as Harry surveyed him, tucking a hand beneath his chin and stretching out his neck to expose his admittedly impressive collarbones.

Once the initial onceover was completed, however, Harry’s eyes found other details that he knew Louis wouldn’t want him to. He raked his gaze over the edges of Louis’ hairline, checking for the shadowy bruises at his temples, and he caught onto the yellowing patch on the back of Louis’ hand where the IV had been inserted. He also noticed that Louis’ cheekbones were slightly more defined than usual, and that the hollows around his eyes had not yet been shallowed out with rest. He may have been walking on two feet again, but it looked as if he hadn’t slept at all while they were away.

What Harry did not realise was that as he scrutinised every one of his friend’s features, Louis was staring just as intently at Harry in return.

To the outside observer, it would seem as if the two teens spent several minutes simply watching each other in silence and letting their eyes roam over the other’s face without hesitation, but to Harry and Louis, only a few moments had passed. They had simply reacquainted themselves with their favourite face and then moved on.

“So, why was Eleanor here?” Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Guilt flickered briefly over Louis’ features, clouding his carefree happiness, and Harry instantly regretted the question. The older boy clicked his heels together once and his teeth found his bottom lip as he replied. “She came over about an hour ago, telling me who she was and how everyone had told her what happened. I didn’t even recognise her at all, Harry,” he admitted in a low voice. “Not until she said her name. A part of me had been thinking that I was just getting confused, and that when she actually turned up everything would come rushing back like some sort of cheesy romantic movie, but there’s just nothing. I could have had a whole conversation with her without knowing we’d met before.”

Harry’s hand found its way back to Louis’ knee, and he squeezed it comfortingly. “I’m sorry, Lou,” he said, and he truly meant it.

“She was just so nice, you know? I don’t want to have to look at her and say ‘I’ve forgotten you’, it’s cruel. I know that she doesn’t deserve that, even if I don’t know her.” He paused for a long moment before adding, “And I don’t know if I’ll ever get those memories back, either.” He sounded guiltier than he did concerned, as if the possibility that he had lost his memories forever only bothered him because he knew it would hurt Eleanor.

Another friend – a good friend – might have reassured him gently, telling him that they would come back in time and that he shouldn’t worry himself too much about it. A good friend would have suggested that he spend more time with Eleanor, to keep the friendship going or even start a brand new one so they could reconnect.

Harry wanted to say those polite things, but he didn’t. The protectiveness that had arisen after Louis’ accident came to the fore instead, accompanied by a strange greediness that prompted him to say, “It’s not your fault if they don’t, you know. You can’t help it if the memories don’t come back. Maybe you should stop trying so hard to try and remember; it’ll only make things worse, and you’ll hurt yourself in the process.”

Superficially, he supposed that his advice might have had some merit, but the words were borne of a desire to have Louis to himself for a while. After being separated by management when he most wanted to be with his best friend, Harry’s less noble side was already seeking out ways to spend time with him, even if it meant forestalling his reunion with Eleanor for now. A part of him wanted nothing more than to look after Louis right now, while he needed it, and that same part felt that no one else could do it as well as Harry could.

Louis’ eyes had gone far away, and one hand came up to absently toy with Harry’s hair. “Hmm…” he hummed under his breath. Wearily, he let his head fall down so that his forehead leaned against Harry’s, just like they’d done in the hospital room. Harry shifted his hand to gently grip the back of Louis’ neck as a long breath parted his lips and the ache in his chest started anew. “I suppose you’re right.”

BANG! 

They both jumped at the noise, and whirled to find a disgruntled Liam standing in their doorway. Harry’s suitcases were heaped in a pile at his feet.

—

—

—

 

Louis was absolutely fine.

He did not feel a headache pressing at the flesh behind his eyes, and could not feel that pain pulsing in the ropey laceration on the side of his head. He was not pushing back a dizziness that threatened to topple him as he stepped into the van, or blinking past the shimmer that continued to pass over his vision whenever he stayed stationary for too long. He did not feel mild trembles beginning in his fingertips, and he was certainly not wishing that he had opted out of joining the boys for the interview today so that he wouldn’t have to pass through the massive crowd of fans that had collected outside the studio.

He hadn’t taken his medication yet, as he’d been rushed out the door before he could find a private moment to himself so the others wouldn’t see. Even Harry didn’t know about the pills that were pushed far down into Louis’ pocket at that very moment. Secretly, Louis had even begun to doubt whether he truly needed them anymore, given that he’d been feeling better every day, but this experience was more than enough to show him otherwise.

Not that he was feeling bad. He was just dandy.

He was –

“- fine, Harry,” he told the lad, as he noticed the concerned green eyes roaming over his face. “I’m fine.”

Harry was quiet, but even his silence was sceptical. He was looking closely into Louis’ eyes in a way that made the older boy feel certain that he was reading every single dizzy thought that crossed his mind, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he beamed straight into Harry’s wary expression and watched as his friend blinked and smiled back instinctively, pausing in his scrutiny and ruining whatever concentration he had gained in the last few seconds. It was a low move, playing on Harry’s affectionate side, of all things, but it would keep him from worrying overly much.

They all just worried so much, and he couldn’t stand to be the one to make their concern any more blatant.

“Let’s do this, boys!” Louis exclaimed excitedly. He clapped his hands in relish, and then left them clamped together so no one would notice the slight shake of his fingers. Outside the van, the roar of the crowd was deafening as they began to pull up to the throng. It was occasionally terrifying to see so many faces pressed up against the windows as they passed, but they had become more accustomed to it over time. Today, Louis stomach swooped in anxiety. If he fainted in front of a crowd this big… it wouldn’t be just his boys that worried about him.

Suddenly, Zayn jumped as a hand smacked against the window by his head, and everyone instantly laughed at him. Louis started as well, sparkles bursting in front of his eyes. The back of his neck was warm and aching with the tension headache he could no longer ignore.

“They’ve blocked the road again,” Niall announced, peering through the window with cupped hands. “I think we’re gonna have to do another runner up the middle. The van’s not going to make it to the garage.”

“Are there barricades up?” Harry asked, and leant forward as well.

“Yeah. There’s a bit of a path between them. We should be fine.”

Liam’s eyes found Louis’. “Is that alright with you?” he asked concernedly, and Louis responded with an energetic nod that made his skull twinge in protest.

“Of course!” he replied enthusiastically. “I haven’t seen the fans in a while, it’ll be good. I thought I was in danger of having my eardrums grow back for a while there, but they should solve that problem pretty quickly.”

Like Harry, Liam didn’t seem entirely convinced, but Niall laughed for him and Louis adored his Irishman for that. Niall accepted his lies, even if he didn’t completely believe him. At the very least, he recognised Louis’ right to blow off his injuries and allowed him to do so without question.

Very soon, the driver came to the same realisation that they had and regretfully informed them that they would have to go through the front door. Even the fans themselves seemed to be aware of that fact, and their cheers became impossibly louder as they came to a stop.

“You ready?” Zayn asked, nudging Louis’ ribs playfully. Louis’ cheeks protested as he summoned another bright grin and elbowed him back. His lovely friend laughed happily and slipped his hand through the crook of Louis’ elbow and linked their arms together so that they could move out together. The gesture was sweet, but ultimately impractical; they were instantly separated as they were pushed out into the moving, shrieking sea of people that awaited them.

As it turned out, what Niall had termed ‘a bit of a path’ was in fact a very small gap that had been pushed up between the girls by metal barricades that were already beginning to cave beneath the pressure of the crowd. It was madness, but it was familiar madness.

Louis’ breath was sucked from his lungs as he ducked his head and pushed forward, feeling Liam’s hands on his shoulders from behind as he was guided forward. He could hear his own name being shouted by dozens of voices, and soon an almost-chant had started up in his honour. It swam in an out of his focus. Abruptly, Louis wondered why he had thought this would be a good idea. He felt even worse beneath the bright sunlight, and the incredible heat and noise being put out by the crowd was pushing against his skull as if trying to find a weak spot. He felt himself sway beneath Liam’s hands just as his feet found the steps that ascended to the entrance of the studio.

“Louis?”

“Boo Bear, Boo Bear…”

The first was Liam’s voice, hissed in his ear, but the second chant came from the crowd that seemed determined on bringing him to the ground.

Louis struggled to drag his feet up the steps so that they could make it onto the entryway, and his vision blurred more and more with each step. Heat flashed over his ears, making the hairs stand up on his neck. His blood quivered in his veins. The sound was just too much, too loud, and he had been nervous enough about going out to begin with. He should have taken his medication sooner; he should have ignored the foolishly proud part of him that had whispered to keep the pills a secret just so the others didn’t worry about him anymore. How was this better?

The crowd shimmered in and out of focus like a mirage, and Louis was just beginning to feel his body waver when he caught one particular gaze through the pack. Where hundreds of people had yet to notice Louis’ weakness, Harry’s eyes were wide and frantic in his face as he fought to make it up to where Louis was standing, pushing aside desperate hands that clung to his sweater on the way through. He was struggling, and there was a terrible, gut-wrenching desperation in his expression.

Louis leaned forward with the dizzy urge to reach out to his friend, and in doing so, nearly unbalanced himself completely. Only the strong arm around his waist kept him from falling straight off of the edge of the steps.

Liam pressed one hand to the small of Louis’ back and gently pulled his head into the side of his neck as he supported him. Louis heard his voice beside his ear, barely audible over the sound of his own blood pounding in his head. “It’s alright, mate. You’re fine. I got you. Just hold onto me, it’ll be okay.”

Even in his current state, and though he truly could not stay on his feet without help, the programmed part of Louis’ pop-star brain rose to the occasion. He forced one numb hand to rest at Liam’s waist like they were hugging, and brought the other to his own cheek to cover his face.

“Laugh, Liam,” he breathed into his friend’s neck, a quiet, desperate plea. “Laugh, so that they think nothing’s wrong.”

And Liam did what he asked, like he always would if he thought he could help a friend. Louis had never loved him more.

Fortunately, for the sake of Louis’ ego, the fans saw the exchange as nothing more than another expression of the friendships that they adored so much. With the ‘Boo Bear’ chant still staying strong amongst the crowd, they simply assumed that Louis was hiding his face in embarrassment due to the mass call of the childhood nickname that he so loathed. Too distracted by Louis’ renewed presence before them and by their own relief at how healed he appeared, very few amongst the assembly noticed anything amiss about the way that Liam held the older boy’s waist, or the way that Louis did not immediately step away. They cheered for ‘Lilo’, and then for ‘Larry Stylinson’ as Harry reached the steps as well to whisper in Louis’ ear. The youngest member put his arm warmly around Louis’ neck, waved a quick goodbye to the crowd over one shoulder, and then all five members of One Direction disappeared into the studio.

—

Louis struggled with the plastic cap of the pill bottle, his quivering hands failing to grip as he wished them to. The disorientation had mostly faded once he had a chance to sit down and breathe again inside the safety of the studio lobby, and Louis knew that in part, the shakes were brought on as much by nerves and embarrassment as it was by dizziness. It had been exactly what he’d been trying to avoid, and still he had nearly passed out in front of hundreds of people. It barely mattered that none of them had noticed a thing, because the four people he truly cared about had, and they would not forget.

“Why won’t you fucking open?” he hissed at the bottle, listening to the plastic click uselessly as he twisted. He tried a few more times, but to no avail. “Damn it!” Frustration boiling over, Louis flung the entire bottle into the metal sink of the studio kitchen where it bounced noisily against the sides before stilling, remaining fully closed.

A familiar Irish voice piped up behind him. “Do you want some help?”

Louis kept his back turned, staying where he was hunched over the counter, but he could not keep the anger in his voice while talking to a friend. “No. Thank you.” He fished out the pills again and, predictably, this time the cap twisted cleanly the first time he wrapped his fingers around the top. He shook out two of the dry, white capsules and drank straight from the tap to chase them down his throat. They had a faintly powdery aftertaste.

He hadn’t heard Niall’s approach, yet he was not startled when he felt two arms wrap around his middle and a warm weight settled somewhere in between his shoulder blades.

Niall never judged.

Louis paused with his hands braced on the edge of the cool counter, feeling Niall hug him tighter when he stiffened slightly, but then, whether he wanted it to or not, he felt the anger gradually fade from his system. With a small sigh, Louis turned within the circle of Niall’s arms to return the embrace, feeling a familiar tickle beneath his chin as he turned his face into a headful of blonde hair. There was something startlingly honest about Niall’s hugs that, not to disparage the effect of them, came from the fact that there was so little complicated meaning accompanying the action. There was no sense of chaotic feeling or emotion other than the fact that he was trying to comfort a friend and that was wonderful in itself. The Irishman could be so very insightful at times, but at others, he was content to sit back and do whatever simple, basic things he could to make the boys feel better.

That, and he was just genuinely a very good hugger.

By the time they were called back for the interview, the only irritation in Louis’ mind was that which he felt after realising how incredibly easily derailed he had been. Even then, it was hard to feel upset about being robbed of the anger he had not particularly wanted in the first place. Instead, he pecked the top of Niall’s head, causing a tiny, pleased blush to form on the boy’s cheekbones, and walked back into the studio with his arm wrapped tightly around his friend’s shoulders.

The other boys’ expressions were tight with anxiety as they waited for Louis and Niall to return, though their features quickly turned to bewilderment as they witnessed the pair entering arm-in-arm, chuckling softly into each other’s shoulders. Louis’ cheeks were still too pale for their liking, but he was smiling again – a true grin, and not the strained smile they had seen since he’d awoken. Liam’s tense hands finally relaxed, Zayn was able to sit down on the couch and Harry’s expression softened into a profoundly tender look of relief as they watched Louis walk toward them.

Harry and Louis occasionally volunteered to separate themselves during long interviews such as this one, in order to avoid any hype about their ‘bromance’ – or ‘gay love affair’, depending on the aggression of the fans’ interest in them – and to keep attention evenly spread across each member, rather than fixating on the pair of them. This time, however, Harry gave no thought to the press as he grabbed Louis’ hand when the older boy moved to pass him, pulling him down so they could sit side-by-side. He slipped himself beneath Louis’ arm as they settled in and nestled closer into his best friend’s side. Just before the red light of the cameras blinked on, Harry snuck a lightning-fast kiss onto Louis’ palm and then smiled as the interviewer began her introduction.

“First off, let me say how lovely it is to see all of you again!” she exclaimed, smiling hugely at them each in turn and lingering on Louis. “Hopefully I’ll know which questions to avoid this time,” she said in an aside to the eldest member of the band, even winking a little before she dropped her eyes to the papers in her lap. It was fortunate she looked away at that point, because she did not see the look of complete confusion that passed over Louis’ face.

Harry very nearly burst out laughing on the spot. He had wondered why the young interviewer had looked familiar when she walked out to greet them upon their arrival, but now the memory had clicked. Last month, she had been called in to cover the details of their tour, and she had taken a noticeable interest in Louis. He had been in quite a good mood that day, and had been playfully teasing her throughout the interview after she had accidentally asked ‘How much room have you got left in your beds’ as opposed so ‘How much room have you got left in the bus’. Needless to say, Louis had had a bit of fun with the interview after that, even messing with further questions to make her lose her composure in silly laughter.

However, it was quite obvious that the interview had not made the exclusive list of memories that had survived Louis’ blow to the head; he had no recollection of the interviewer, and thus had no idea of why this young woman was singling him out.

Harry shifted, putting his mouth to Louis’ ear. “She interviewed us a few weeks ago,” he whispered quickly. “You bantered around when she messed up a line, so she’s gonna try and flirt with you now.”

“Oh,” Louis said. He was clearly unsure what to make of that, but he smiled nonetheless and adjusted his behaviour accordingly. The interview continued much like that, with Harry whispering helpful hints into Louis’ ear whenever he needed a reminder of certain details or events.

—

Both he and Lou were still seated in that same position by the time that the individual interviews came around, yet they were the only ones that remained in the room. For their private photos and questions, the other boys had been moved to a separate room devoted to that very purpose, leaving the pair sitting alone on the couch. The radio was on somewhere, playing a lively instrumental song, and they were surrounded by empty booths and discarded electrical equipment. Having done their close-ups and questions first, there was little to do but wait until the others had finished as well, so they could leave.

They chatted a bit, with Harry subtly making sure that Louis had recovered without pushing the issue. He chose not to mention the fear that he felt upon seeing Louis’ expression falter, or the horrible memory that swept over him. He chose not to mention how glad he was that Louis was alright. He knew Lou had not brought it up for a reason, and the fact that he was sitting there, laughing and smiling, was enough. 

But then a little while later the curly-haired lad turned his head into Louis’ shoulder to squint at the older boy’s face.

“So you’re feeling better, then?” he asked, though he not been so direct earlier.

Louis almost frowned, but then he caught sight of the playful gleam in those green eyes and realised there was an idea prompting the question. “Yes,” he answered, although he sounded slightly wary nonetheless.

“C’mere,” Harry said suddenly, reaching for Louis’ hand to pull him into the empty studio space. He kicked aside a box of wiring as he did so. The older boy went along with the movement with a slightly confused look on his face, until they reached the centre of the room and Harry put his hand on his shoulder. “Dance with me,” he instructed melodramatically, and even did a little ballet twirl to start them off.

Louis caught on instantly. “Oh, Harry,” he cooed with a simper and a bashful look. He fluttered his eyelashes. “You know I never refuse a dance.”

The upbeat classical music continued in the background as the two boys played around, twirling and pirouetting and spinning each other around in circles. It was just the silly thing they’d always ended up doing during studio recordings, while the others were busy, and it made no difference that it was just the two of them this time. Louis dared to test his constitution enough to jump into Harry’s arms at one point, legs wrapped around his waist, and they gave a grand turnaround for their imaginary audience, arms outstretched and polite smiles on their faces. Louis blew kisses to the empty couches and to the empty recording booth, looking at them upside down as Harry dipped him back with a beaming smile. They laughed as the blood rushed to his face, turning it a delicate pink – which Louis claimed was just brought on by all of their lovely viewers, as he gave an extravagant bow to the, once again, empty couches.

Harry fell apart giggling at that part, and gave his friend a great shove in the back mid-bow so that he stumbled forward a little bit. Louis’ reaction only made him laugh harder as the other boy turned back, gaping dramatically. Louis pushed back, of course, and then the whole thing soon dissolved into a play fight that soon dissolved into another dance.

This time, Harry seized Louis around the waist and took his hand in the other, turning them in a slow dance. It might have been a harmless activity, had Louis not taken the lead and changed it into an elaborate waltz that had them staggering across the entire room with their ungainly steps. Their feet tangled with the studio gear and each other’s legs every few seconds, tripping them up, and they were laughing so hard they were probably oxygen deprived as well, but they were at least mostly in time with the new, slower piano song that the radio station had switched to. The softer melody fell from the stereo speakers like rain.

Soon enough, they had to slow their steps to catch their breath again, and ended up falling into a simple two-step dance between them. Being slighter shorter than Harry, Louis consented to sling his arms around the younger boy’s neck as they swayed from side to side playfully and tried to take in some air. Harry rested his forehead on Louis’ shoulder, breathing slowly, and Louis played with his curls affectionately as he always did when they were in the vicinity of his touch.

A low, contented sigh fell from Harry’s lips and brushed the skin of Louis’ throat. “I’ve missed you,” Harry admitted impulsively, feeling safer speaking his mind with his face hidden from view. He didn’t realise just how true that statement was until that exact moment as he stood in Louis’ embrace and enjoyed the incredibly soft warmth of his body. “Not even just because of the accident, or because we went away without you, I just… I miss you when you’re not there,” he said simply, and closed his eyes. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”

At another time, Louis might have pushed aside his affection with a joke to lighten the mood or thanked him sombrely with a kiss on the cheek or the lips and told him he felt the same and, while it would have made Harry smile and feel all lovely inside, it wasn’t what either of them needed at that moment. Harry was being honest, and so Louis would too.

“I really have to thank you,” he said in an odd tone, speaking straight into Harry’s ear. Somehow, Harry’s head had ended up lower than his despite the extra height he had. It always seemed to happen like that. “I needed you today. I’ve needed you for a lot of days recently, if I’m being honest, and I do notice all the little things you’ve been doing for me; keeping the focus away from me, making sure I know what’s going on in the conversation, answering the questions that I can’t… Even just with that girl today, I wouldn’t have been able to follow the interview properly without you there.”

He hesitated then; not as if he didn’t know what to say, but as if he was summoning the strength to be able to say them. His lips twisted in a light grimace.

“It can be really hard for me to admit when I’m not doing so well,” he said slowly. “And while I know that I’m going to deserve the bollocking I’ll get from Liam once we head home for hiding the pills, I still don’t like having to ask for help with this. I just want it to be finished and forgotten, you know?” He paused for the length of one heartbeat. “Okay, perhaps that’s a poor choice of words given the amnesia situation, but you understand what I mean, don’t you?”

In spite of himself, Harry chuckled once against the fabric of Louis’ shirt. “I got it.”

“The thing is, I just want to move on, to move past this, and I know that it can sometimes seem like I’m not grateful for everything that you’ve done for me – but I really am. It may not seem like it, but I do know what you’ve done for me and it means so much just that you’ve been here throughout all of this, so…”

Louis drew back a fraction to look deep into Harry’s eyes, his gaze intense enough to make the back of Harry’s neck prickle and flush with warmth. There was a rare vulnerability about Louis’ expression, like he was finally laying himself bare, and there was utter sincerity in his lovely blue eyes as he simply murmured, “Thank you.”

He folded his arms securely around Harry’s neck again, bringing the younger boy into a tight embrace and holding him close. The second that he breathed in the faint smell of Louis’ aftershave, Harry felt a flood of emotion that he knew only too well. It was something he had always associated with his best friend; a strange mix of happiness, excitement and just a tiny brush of possessiveness within his innermost thoughts. The happiness was obvious, and the excitement came from the knowledge of just how special and important their friendship was in his life, how lucky he was to have someone like this. The last he had been frequently choosing to ignore of late, and did so again without hesitation.

He felt Louis’ lips brush his hair as the older male pulled away. “I just love you, Harry,” he said affectionately, tapping him lightly on the chin with his thumb. As if often did, his mood shifted to playful again. “I absolutelyadore you, and you better remember that, ‘cause it’ll never change.” He ducked in to press two swift kisses to the underside of Harry’s jaw before he straightened. “Come on, I wanna go mess with Liam while he’s trying to be a good boy for the interview.” Eyebrows twitching up, Louis skipped away toward the other rooms, motioning for Harry to follow.

When Harry tried to say that he’d catch up, all that came out of his mouth was an incoherent tangle of syllables that sounded like nonsense even to his own ears. His hand rose on its own and then fell uselessly to his side. He had to wait several seconds for basic motor function to return to him so that he could jog after Louis, trying ineffectually to wipe the sappy grin from his face or slow the rapid fluttering of his pulse. 

—

—

—

 

“OW!”

“Will you stop that? Put your hands down.”

“Just tug at the –”

“Stop fiddling!”

“You are actually going to – ouch – rip my hair out!” Louis winced and leant out of Harry’s reach, slapping his hands away. His gaze was reproachful. “Be gentle with me,” he warned, readjusting his position on the couch cushion so he could point a finger in Harry’s face. “Think about how bad you’ll feel if you pull this bandage off with half of my head still attached.”

“Shut up,” Harry told him fondly. “And stay still, for once.”

Louis remained wary, but he consented to allow Harry to continue gently peeling the bandage away from his skull. He kept on grumbling under his breath, however. “I’d like to see you try and stay still while someone slowly pulled the hairs out of your scalp. You can’t even stand people straightening it… you wouldn’t last a second of this.”

Sighing, Harry let his hands fall. “Why don’t you get someone else to do it, then?” he asked, trying to smother the amusement in his tone.

“Because Niall would do the rip-the-bandaid method and leave me bald, Liam would tell me to leave it on until we’re sure the stitches are completely gone and Zayn would be here until tomorrow night trying to do the job without hurting me, and we have to leave at some point today.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”

Louis fixed him with a level look, and reached forward to rest his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “If I could, I would,” he said seriously. “Now get on with it.”

Feeling Louis’ eyes on him the entire time, Harry carefully resumed trying to remove the bandage as gently as he could. After several visits to the hospital over the last week and a half, it had been decided that Louis’ stitches had almost definitely worked their way out of his skin, and so he could leave it unprotected. However, the tape hurt far more on the way out than either of them had expected.

Harry had to hold Louis’ cheek in the palm of his hand as he continued to pry the material away, and so he could feel every single cringe or wince that crossed Louis’ features as he worked. It was mildly distracting, but at least he could use the indications to guide him.

As the faded remnants of the wound that had killed his best friend was revealed, bit by bit, Harry’s fingers became less steady where they rested against the side of Louis’ face. When Lou had asked him to assist him, he had not thought to prepare himself for seeing the actual damage firsthand. In an instant, a red-hued memory of blood and pale skin flashed across his mind, and he stared at the dark red, slightly raised line of thin scar tissue that cut beneath Louis’ hairline near his ear. To anyone else, perhaps it would not have been so obvious, but Harry’s mind was also conjuring his recollection of the fresh wound and the two images overlaid to create a terrifying gash.

Watching Louis’ health improve by the day had been one of the most quietly wonderful things Harry had ever experienced. It did not necessarily meet up with the excitement and hype that had made up the last fantastic year of his life, but it was satisfying in a far more private way that he wanted to keep to himself. Each time that Louis looked up at him with those clear blue eyes or his cheeks flushed a happy pink when he laughed, Harry had to physically stop himself from beaming because he so glad to have him there.

He reached for that feeling now, and he chose to look at the wound as a symbol of Louis’ survival, rather than of his pain. It was much easier to behold once he did, and soon enough he was removing the last traces of the tape from Lou’s skull and pulling the bandage away with a flourish. He held both arms wide.

“See?” he crowed smugly, and tossed the bandage away. “And you didn’t trust me.”

“I never said that,” Louis said, but he smirked briefly before he ran his fingers over the scar, feeling over the tiny raised ridge with a mask of concentration smoothing over his features. His jaw jumped a few times in discomfort as he prodded a tender spot, though that only occurred twice. Mostly, his questing fingers were purposeful as he mapped the new addition to his appearance, and Harry felt sudden curiosity blossom inside him as he watched Louis’ fingertips.

Slowly, he reached up to tug Louis’ hand away from his hair and deposited it on his knee before his own fingers took their place.

It occurred to him that he probably should have asked permission before doing so, but Harry could not find it in himself to care. He knew Louis would not mind. His fingers trembled very slightly as he pushed them through Louis’ hair, parting the soft strands so that he could look more closely at the scar beneath.

Louis was pliant beneath the motions, but his eyes were on Harry’s face, burning with quiet intensity.

“Am I hurting you?” Harry asked suddenly.

Louis could not shake his head beneath Harry’s hold, so he closed his eyes briefly to convey the same disagreement. “No, not at all.”

Feeling emboldened, Harry let his fingertips roam along the side of Louis’ skull, feeling out each dip and curve beneath the length of the scar. No matter his determination, knowing that he was touching the injury that nearly stole Lou away from him still gave him a mild sense of fear, as he remembered that night, but also sentiment as he considered how glad he was that Louis had survived. It was a strange contradiction, and it caused butterflies to flutter within his stomach. 

Harry paused when he felt a small shiver going through Louis’ frame, but the older boy simply chuckled under his breath and murmured, “It tickles.”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

Louis’ lips curled at up the ends. “I wouldn’t say that.”

The words brought inexplicable warmth to Harry’s cheeks, but the curly-haired lad didn’t let that deter him from walking his fingers through Louis’ hair again. Impulsively, he let his hands stray a bit more than they should have, playing in the styled strands.

Louis shifted a little when Harry’s fingertips ‘accidentally’ brushed around the outer shell of his ear, and Harry enjoyed the light that briefly flared in Louis’ face before slowly dimming. When he did it again, Louis’ lips twitched.

The older boy’s eyes were still trained on his face, and Harry felt a low jolt of surprise at the look in that cerulean gaze. It no longer held the discomfort or intensity that he had seen while Louis contemplated the scar; instead, his eyes shone with amusement. It was nothing new between them, but Harry would have challenged any human being on earth to sit just a few inches those sparkling eyes and remain unaffected. It was impossible not to feel soft feathers brushing down his spine, just as it was impossible to consider moving away. He could do little butstare and hope that he did not look quite as gormless as he felt.

It was hard to describe just how it felt to have Louis’ full attention. Everyone that encountered him knew within a matter of seconds how fast-paced his view of the world was, and how quickly his focus could be diverted. While it had never been a negative quality in Harry’s opinion, there was no doubt that Louis could be a little hard to follow at times – yet that was what made it so incredibly overwhelming when the man’s attention was suddenly and unequivocally directed onto you and you alone. As much as Louis’ eyes could dart and roll with derision, they could also catch and hold, and they often kept Harry pinned until the world began to blur out around the edges.

There was a small smile lurking in the corners of Louis’ mouth, and it flickered in and out of view like he was laughing at some private joke that Harry was not aware of. It brought a smirk to the younger boy’s face just by looking at it, and then Harry’s eyes were slowly drawn down to the lips that were playfully dancing in front of him.

Harry wasn’t sure how much time he spent gazing at Louis’ mouth until a flash of white teeth snapped him out of his trance. His gaze flicked up to meet Louis’. “What?” he asked, and though he felt slightly defensive at his friend’s laughter, his voice came out teasing.

“Nothing,” Louis replied, delightedly. His tongue appeared at the edge of his lip before disappearing again. “Absolutely nothing.”

Harry knew that look, and it was never good for him. “What?” he repeated, lightly poking at Louis’ ribs as if he could prod the information out of the other male. He received only a grin for his efforts.

One hand smoothing the hair over his scar, Lou suddenly moved as if to get up off of the couch, but Harry caught him by the legs before he could and held him fast. Fingers curling beneath Louis’ knees, he pulled the older boy forward with one swift jerk, causing Louis to fall helplessly into his lap. Louis’ hands clung to Harry’s shoulders so they did not overbalance completely.

A loud, shameless laugh escaped Harry’s lips before he could help it, but the sound died instantly in his throat as Louis’ hands slid over the nape of his neck. His breath strangled, his insides froze. The suffocating ache he had almost forgotten about sprang into glorious life inside his chest, brutally squeezing his heart while he had no way of escaping.

Louis had finally regained his balance, and came to rest with his knees either side of Harry’s waist. He looked mildly surprised to find Harry’s body beneath his and not entirely unhappy about the situation, yet he showed no sign of noticing Harry’s sudden paralysis. His head canted to one side.

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asked, so quietly that Harry almost missed the question entirely.

He answered without thinking. “You.” However, once he regained some semblance of thought he managed to temper the response with a dry, “Of course. There’s no one else here to distract me.”

Louis’ fingers kneaded softly against the edge of his skull, just beneath his curls. “Are you distracted, Harry?”

A sigh passed Harry’s lips in spite of himself; he was enjoying the massage far more than he should have been. “Yes,” he hummed happily, eyelids drooping. “I’m very, very distracted.” His contentment only grew when Lou’s hands moved further into his hair, softly gripping his curls near the roots in a way that he knew Harry loved, fingertips slowly rubbing circles into his scalp.

Louis’ low whisper brushed against Harry’s ear. “I could do anything I want to you right now, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, you could,” he agreed unthinkingly, before the question could even sink in. Harry’s pulse had slowed to become warm and languid during Louis’ ministrations, beating comfortably within his veins, but the moment that he truly processed the meaning behind those words his heartbeat spiked. 

It took real, physical effort to keep his eyes from popping wide open as a heady feeling swept straight through his body. Louis’ hands were still in his hair, his scent filled Harry’s senses and he could feel the taut line of muscle beneath his fingertips where they still rested on the older boy’s thighs. For a few seconds, those single sensations combined to overwhelm him. The pit of his stomach tightened in anticipation, as did his fingers, and his fingertips noiselessly slid along the fabric of Louis’ trousers. Though he dared not open his eyes yet, fearing the sight that lay on the other side of his eyelids, his mind supplied scattered images of Louis’ face hovering over him, of his tongue running over the inside of his lip as he had seen it do only moments ago, of the shadows that played in the hollows of his cheekbones when the light shone behind him.

Harry felt very little control over his body, but instinct had his lips parting with breath as he waited for… what?

As soon as he allowed himself to actually consider the answer to that question his paralysis was broken. Anxiety squirmed inside him, and his eyes finally forced themselves open to find Louis’ face a reasonable distance away – not leaning over his, not doing anything untoward. His lovely features wore a fascinated expression.

Louis broke into a laugh at the look on Harry’s face, a wicked grin spreading across his face. It both relieved and annoyed Harry when the older boy scooted back on his lap so that he could clamber to his feet, and he hated the warring impulses he felt in that moment. His conflict was not helped in the slightest by the affection gleaming in Louis’ eyes, and he only felt more confused as Louis leaned down again.

“Oh, your gorgeous face,” the older boy said happily, and slipped one finger under Harry’s chin to close his mouth for him. “You know, if anyone else figured out how to do that to you I reckon you’d actually forfeit your life for them. Can you imagine if the fans ever got within range of your hair? You’d be catatonic inside of two days.” He gave a smooth laugh under his breath before extending a hand and drawing Harry to his feet. His fingers were warm and strong.

Dazzled, Harry searched for something reasonable to say, but Lou took the responsibility for him.

“Go get dressed,” he ordered, adopting a stern tone for the occasion. “The boys will be here soon, and as much as I hate to admit it, you’ve got to be wearing more than boxers before we head out into the real world.”

Harry glanced down at his state of undress, and for once, he whole-heartedly agreed. He could only thank God that Louis was already dressed and ready to go, so that he could have a moment to deal with the frenzy that had overtaken his mind.

“I’ll be right back,” he managed quickly, and then retreated to his bedroom as swiftly as he could without being too conspicuous. He thought he heard a tiny, breathy sigh before the door closed, though it did not belong to him. The sound set his spine to tingling again.

Once he was safe on the other side of the door, Harry placed one hand against his chest to try and ease the discomfort of the tangled knot he could feel twisting beneath his skin. It had tightened to a point where it restricted his breathing, and it occurred to him that it almost felt like fear, this ache. He allowed himself to consider the possibility that that was all it was; that he was only afraid of losing Louis all over again, that the closer they got the more he feared being separated. It would explain why it was so very difficult to be away from the older boy, and why in the few times that he imagined the pain Lou must have felt, it did feel remarkably like Harry was the one in agony.

Upon accepting that fact, Harry might have thought he could relax, but the realisation only seemed to make the ache in his chest press even harder. He would have expected it to lessen but instead, it seemed to yearn for a release that he didn’t yet understand.

He had his suspicions, though, and they terrified him.

Harry stood in his room for an indeterminable period of time, lost in his own thoughts and feelings, until a loud knock on the front door intruded on his reverie.

“Lou, you got that?” he shouted through the door, not even waiting for confirmation as he hastened to find suitable clothing within arm’s reach. He had no time for finding anything that matched; he was doomed to dress like a senile retiree again, it seemed.

He heard Niall’s booming voice just as he was yanking a sweater over his head. “Oi! What the hell are you doing in there, lads? Come on out! Rehearsals only work if you go before the tour actually starts, you know!”

Harry was still fighting with his sleeves as he exited his bedroom to greet them. Niall grinned at him instantly, but Zayn and Liam were hunched over the kitchen counter, peering at Louis’ laptop.

Niall’s tilted his head to glance into Harry’s room over his shoulder, and then a mildly puzzled look crossed his face. “Where’s Louis? Tell me he’s not still getting ready. It’s almost noon! For fuck’s sake,” he shouted louder, amusement colouring his voice, “get that sexy arse out here, Lou! You look fine!”

A laugh escaped Harry’s lips. “He’s not even in there, Niall.”

The Irishman’s lips closed into an unabashed smile. “Ah, well,” he shrugged, unperturbed. “His loss. Where is he, then?”

“He’s not with you?”

“Uh, Harry?” Zayn said, raising one hand over his shoulder to catch the others’ attention. He did not turn his gaze away from the laptop screen as he spoke. “I think you better come look at this. You too, Niall.”

“Why, has he been googling himself, or something?” Niall laughed, apparently unaware of the tension showing in set of the Bradford boy’s back.

Liam’s expression was grave. “You could say that.”

Harry put a hand on Zayn’s back so he could read the opened page over his shoulder. It took him less than a second to read the first line, and after only a fraction more his stomach lurched sickeningly.

Few people could have missed out on the news of One Direction star Louis Tomlinson’s recent accident, resulting in a head wound that left the nineteen-year-old comatose for just over six days. However, a source has now reported that the UK popstar has also claimed amnesia as a side effect of the injury. Amongst the alleged casualties of memory is model Eleanor Calder, who had been confirmed to be dating Tomlinson prior to the incident. The rumour has yet to be validated by any official statement from One Direction or their agents, and Calder herself has failed to answer any questions on the matter.

That was just the first excerpt that they found within the opened tabs of Louis’ browser, and they soon found that it was probably the gentlest of those he had assembled. One was actually entitled ‘Is Louis Tomlinson trying to ditch his girlfriend?’, and while the others might have neglected to choose such a crude title, the general insinuation of the piece was that Louis might have been faking his amnesic state. When the author wasn’t hinting at that possibility, they were making some allusion to the fact that Louis was far more damaged than they had first perceived. Often, the tiny jokes slipped in between the facts were the harshest of all; they wondered if Louis were having technical difficulties, or if he had a slight screw loose, and even if he were ‘three carrots short of a salad’.

Some of the comments were the most brutal of all, as a few people disdained Louis for ‘being too much of a pussy’ to break up with Eleanor, as well as for trying to garnet more publicity for himself, and wrote that he shouldn’t lie about something so serious just to help himself out of an uncomfortable situation. Some of those had been difficult for the boys to read. Most of the readers were on Louis’ side and defended him against the others, but those that were negative were enough to outweigh the positive. Even people that claimed to be fans tried to make light of the situation, writing in that at least Louis would be free to date either them or Harry, and that he wouldn’t even have to find a good break-up strategy. Lastly, there were those that doubted the truth of the story completely and vowed to wait for the boys’ confirmation of the rumour. 

Harry swore under his breath as he pushed away from the laptop, too upset to care about how it sounded.

Liam’s voice was oddly quiet and small as he glanced up at the others. “I think it’s safe to say Louis’ not in the apartment anymore.” 

—

—

—

 

“Who the hell told the press?” Niall demanded, looking around at the others as if they could possibly know anything more about it than he did. “Who could have done that to him?”

Harry was listening intently to the dial tone buzzing in his ear, waiting for Louis to pick up, but his gaze was steely enough on its own to convey his displeasure. For the third time, the phone went to voicemail, and he was finally forced to acknowledge the possibility that Louis did not want to answer his mobile at the current time.

“I don’t know,” Liam said heavily, “but obviously someone did.” Then, he swivelled in his chair to fix them with a puzzled frown. “Although I don’t know who could have done it.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“No, I mean literally,” he said. “Who could have done it? We didn’t exactly spread the news of it around like we did with the accident, and the only people that knew are all of us in this room, families, management – though I doubt they would do it – and the doctors.” Liam ticked each suspect off on his fingers as he spoke, leaving only his little finger held down by the end, and he lifted his hand as if asking who he was supposed to add to the list. “Who out of those would have been able to tell anyone, let alone motivated to? His doctor wouldn’t have been allowed to.”

“I think you can take all of us out of suspicion,” Zayn pointed out, and reached over to push one of his fingers down for him. “I know I didn’t tell anyone, and I’m pretty sure none of you did, either.”

“Nope, I didn’t,” Niall said solemnly. “I hadn’t even spoken to my mum about it.”

“I did,” Harry spoke up, “but she knew not to say anything.”

They all agreed that Anne would not have leaked any information to the press. For one thing, she cared too much about Louis to do that and for another, she had enough dislike for the press that swarmed her house that she would never have considered helping them. 

“Maybe it was one of the nurses,” Zayn suggested, shrugging. “I know I got the stinkeye from more than one of them, and I don’t know if they’ve got the same restrictions as the doctors.”

“They all loved Louis,” Harry demurred. “They may have hated us, but they loved him. I don’t think it was any of them, anyway, why would they care?” He thought for a moment longer, and then twitched like somebody had jabbed him in the ribs. “What are we even talking about this for?” he demanded abruptly. “Shouldn’t we be focussing on finding Louis now? Do you know how guilty he is going to feel after reading these? He’s probably just left. If we go now, we could probably catch up to him before he has a chance to leave.”

Harry was anxious to go out and find him, but he watched as Liam shook his head. “No, we would have passed him in the hall on the way up here, remember? He was already gone by then and if he’s left the building, we’re not gonna catch up.”

An impatient groan slipped from the younger boy’s lips; a noise that he would not have normally directed at his friend had he not been worrying about Louis’ state. “I don’t care,” he told them all, trying to keep his irritation in check as he spoke. “I’ll go anyway.”

Niall immediately stepped up beside him. “So will I.”

A sigh passed Zayn’s lips as he sent them both a levelled look. “We’re all going to go, guys. Liam’s just saying that we can’t hope he’s going to be heading out the door right at the moment that we show up.” Liam gave him a small nod of thanks for the explanation. “So we’ve gotta figure out where we’re going to look to find him -where would he go?”

A small silence bubbled up between them as they thought, and then Niall shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I’d normally just go find you,” he said, nodding at Harry. “But obviously that’s not going to work.”

Instantly, all eyes turned to Harry, who bristled at the sudden attention to him. “I don’t know where he went,” he said defensively, though he was more upset at having to admit that than he was bothered by their assumptions. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d leave, given that they’re all out there waiting for him. He shouldn’t have left.”

“We all agree with you there, mate, but –”

Liam broke off at the sound of a phone chirping to life. Harry’s heart leapt as he reached for his mobile, hoping to see Lou’s name cropping up on the screen, but he had chosen the wrong phone; the landline was ringing, instead. He paused, listening to it buzz over and over, and then grudgingly reached over to the kitchen counter to answer it.

His voice was perhaps slightly ruder than it should have been. “Hello?”

A feminine voice he did not recognise said, “Hi. Is that you, Harry?” He wasn’t given an opportunity to answer. “It’s Eleanor.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he pointedly lifted his gaze to look at the others as he awkwardly replied, “Umm… hi, Eleanor.” He watched Niall glance to Liam, who looked to Zayn as they all realised the last person that they had neglected to add to the list of possibilities. For obvious reasons, Eleanor definitely had enough knowledge of Louis’ condition to leak information to the press and the most motivation out of anyone they’d found so far.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause over the line before she spoke again. “Is Louis there?”

Harry had never been particularly good at improvisation. “He’s, uh, he’s talking to his mum,” he lied quickly. “On the phone. But I’ll tell him to call you once he’s finished?”

“Yeah, thank you,” she said, and despite himself, Harry felt a momentary wave of sympathy for the quiet sadness in her voice. Although he might have wanted to, he suddenly couldn’t imagine Eleanor being responsible for the leak. “I’d appreciate that, Harry.” With a quick, murmured goodbye, she hung up and left Harry holding onto the phone on the other side, wondering why he suddenly felt inexplicably guilty.

Zayn was the first to speak. “Do we think…?” He didn’t need to finish.

“No,” Harry sighed, and leant over to return the phone to its cradle. “I really don’t think she’d do that to him.”

As easy as it would have been to blame Eleanor, they all encountered the same difficulty in trying to imagine sweet, smiling Eleanor going to the press to spread rumours about the man she claimed to care about. Nonetheless, the facts remained the same, and they still wanted to find Lou before anyone else did. They called his mobile again, with little effect, so as one they hopped into the elevator with the intention of checking with their doorman, Stephen, so they could get some sort of indication of where Louis might have gone, or if he had taken his car from the garage.

It was only once they were inside the lift, and Harry glanced at the gold-rimmed buttons that lined the electrical panel before his eyes, that he finally realised where Louis had gone.

—

By mutual decision, Harry was alone as he climbed the short staircase that ascended up to the roof. None of them wanted to crowd their friend just yet, knowing that he would not have retreated up to the top floor unless he had desired some time alone, yet they could not bring themselves to do absolutely nothing. Harry had immediately volunteered to talk to him, and the rest of the lads had whole-heartedly agreed with the notion. 

The roof of their apartment complex had actually been outfitted with a flat deck to accommodate the tenants; they had merely shallowed out an area of floor in between the existing planes of the roof. The sundeck was perfectly flat and littered with iron-wrought chairs and tables for those that wanted to spend time beneath the sun, and though it was ideal for sunbathing, the roof itself still remained in place. It slowly slanted out on all sides and created a sense of privacy as the high sides shielded the deck from view.

At this point in time, because it was London, a light rain spritzed over Harry’s hair as he pushed open the door and stepped out onto the deck. His eyes found Louis immediately. Where anyone else might have taken cover beneath the small alcove overhanging the entrance, or even sat at the tables beneath the protection of the wide sun umbrella, Louis had instead climbed up the side of the slanted roof to sit atop the tiling. He had always liked high places.

The sight of the rain sheeting gently off of the roof tiles was nearly enough to dissuade Harry from joining his friend. However, he still found himself scrambling up over the short boundary of the sundeck so that he could pull himself up, hand over foot. He had nearly reached the apex of the roofing, though not quite, and a wave of vertigo passed over him as he glanced over the edge and saw the downward slant of the roof before it dropped off into nothingness. They were in no danger, and Harry knew he would only slide gently back down to the safe, flat deck if he lost his footing, but it was still unnerving to see how high they were.

Very, very carefully, Harry lowered himself down onto the spot beside Louis, holding tightly onto the sloping tiles beneath him. The slates were a little slippery with water and even though it wasn’t a very steep incline on this side, it was still enough to make Harry’s stomach swoop a little until he was firmly seated. Then, he settled in more comfortably.

He glanced over at Louis, who had yet to react to his presence. “It’s raining,” he pointed out after a few seconds, just to break the silence. He blinked in the light drizzle as he tipped his head up, the drops catching on the ends of his eyelashes. “In case you didn’t notice already.”

“I really don’t remember a thing about Eleanor,” Louis replied instantly, his voice low. He sounded defensive, like Harry had just come out with a direct accusation or demanded an explanation from him. “I don’t remember any of the things that you guys have told me for that matter. Why would I lie about that? What could I possibly get out of telling everyone that I’ve forgotten chunks of my life?”

“I know,” Harry said quietly.

“People are making out that I’m somehow using amnesia as a way of ditching my girlfriend, like I couldn’t find any other way of breaking up with her, or something – like I could actually do that to someone, or want to do that. Why would anyone want to pretend to be brain damaged just to break up with a girl? What’s the point?”

Harry frowned, his dark eyebrows pulling together in concern. “You’re not brain damaged, Louis, you just had a bad accident.”

“I’m not?” For the first time Louis turned his head to meet Harry’s eyes directly, and there was a terrible weariness in his eyes. His vibrant blue eyes were faded to match their greyscale, rain-soaked surroundings. “I can barely remember anything about those months before I hurt myself, Harry, and it’s been weeks since the accident. I spent night after night trying to get any details after I found out, and all I’ve got to show for it is a few flashes of colour and maybe a few places that I can’t put a name to. I can’t even remember a single, full day with the girl that was meant to be my girlfriend, and all I can tell her is that her name sounds familiar or I recognise her perfume sometimes or maybe I’ve seen her face in a magazine pic or something.”

As Louis looked away again, Harry leaned forward so that he could try and catch his friend’s gaze. The rain had begun to fall more heavily. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly, allowing no doubt to seep into his voice. “None of this is your fault; you have to know that. You can’t blame yourself for what happened, and you know that those rumours are all crap. I know that, the boys know that and I’d be willing to bet that Eleanor does, too. Everyone who cares about you knows that you’re not to blame for this.”

Several long moments passed as Louis sat silently, blinking past the water droplets cascading over his eyes and chewing on his bottom lip. While he no longer looked angry, there was a tired sadness around his eyes and Harry suddenly felt himself hating everyone and anyone who had spoken out in those articles with more fervour than he had the first time. Louis had been healing, emotionally as well as physically, and though his memory had yet to return he had been better than ever. Now, because a few nameless people on the internet had decided on impulse to make themselves feel superior, that happiness was being torn to shreds before his eyes.

Absently, Louis lifted one hand to play along the invisible line beneath his hair, tracing the shape of the thin scar that Harry knew he could feel there. After a full minute, he dropped his fingers again and wrapped both hands around one knee more comfortably. He seemed to feel no concern about sitting so casually atop the wet tiles.  

“I don’t like hurting people,” he said softly. “All I want to be able to say to her is something besides ‘You’re vaguely familiar’, you know? It’s been far too long to pass it off as a tiny little bout of amnesia, and I still don’t know her like you say I did. I’ve barely even given her any thought over the last few weeks, and it feels like I’m insulting her just by not remembering.”

“The only ones that are insulting anyone are those idiots that are spreading those rumours,” Harry muttered fiercely, irritation flaring briefly in his chest before dying again. “They don’t know what they’re talking about, but they still have to say something about it. I’ll bet no one even believes a word of it anymore. I’ve seen loads of people protesting against all the crap they’re printing and there are hundreds and hundreds of fans coming to your defence, so I doubt they’ll keep it going long. That’ll over be over soon, at least.”

“It’s a good thing I can’t remember anything, then,” Louis pointed out with a weak attempt at humour. “Maybe I’ll forget all this, too.” Half-hearted as it was, there was a hint of a smile in the edges of Louis’ mouth and Harry saw that as a personal victory.

Taking the lighter moment as a sign that he was cheering up, Harry reached over and wrapped his fingers around the damp sleeve of Louis’ shirt then, squeezing his shoulder in a silent offer of comfort. He may have left his hand there for a little bit longer than was really necessary, but neither one of them protested. They stayed like that for a few long moments, simply enjoying each other’s company and the warmth of Harry’s arm overlaying Louis’, until the older boy spoke again.

“Actually,” he began quietly, “that’s not strictly true.” He sounded strangely uncomfortable, and he shot a glance at Harry’s face before he turned his gaze forward once more and didn’t look at him again. “I can remember… some stuff that’d happened recently, just not Eleanor or the album or anything else that would actually be useful.” Again, he had to pause before he spoke again. “All I can really remember is you, Harry.”

The younger boy went very still at the confession. His numb arm slipped away from Louis’ without him even noticing it move. “Me?” he repeated quietly, shoving a handful of wet curls away from his eyes. He was afraid that if he spoke too loudly, it would break whatever spell had fallen over the two of them that made Louis’ voice seem devastatingly soft and warm despite the fact that he had to speak over the increasingly heavy rain.

“Nothing major,” Louis continued quickly. “It’s barely anything noteworthy, really, it’s just little things that keep coming back to me, like speaking to you on the phone or getting a text from two rooms away. I remember watching a film after a performance, some romantic comedy thing that you wanted, and how I had to wake you up because you’d fallen asleep halfway through. I remember you being carried into my room while we were ill, with your feet all hanging out of the duvet and your hair falling everywhere ‘cause you’d tipped your head upside down and all the blood was rushing to your face. And I remember seeing my blood on your face after I banged my head, just before I blacked out.”

Harry had to swallow past his dry mouth as he, too, recalled that horrible night and an image of Louis’ pale, scarlet-splashed face flashed into his mind. “You do?” he asked hoarsely.

“Yeah.” Louis took a slow breath. “And I think… I think I remember hearing you while I was out of it, too. Just a bit. They told me you were there while I was asleep, but I think I already knew that. I think I felt that, and it’s the only memory that I keep circling back to whenever I try and remember anything else. It’s just a few words, a few noises… nothing specific, just details, but the memory’s there. A lot of the time it feels like I’m squinting underwater but it’s there, and I feel like that’s the only thing that’s really keeping me together right now. My mind’s so full of fragments and half-forgotten sentences that the only thing I’ve got left to hold on to is that tiny memory of you holding my hand and telling me not to go anywhere.”

He said all of it in a quiet rush of air that seemed to be one long exhalation, and by the end of it his posture has slumped down two inches shorter than it was before. Harry hadn’t noticed how tightly he had been holding himself until that moment. Louis still hadn’t looked over at him and he just took that moment to take in the full effect of the older boy’s profile. The rain had slicked his hair down to his head, leaving the damp brown strands clinging to his skin and his fringe plastered to his forehead. The running water cascaded over his fine cheekbones before dripping over the line of his jaw and disappearing into his lap. The line of his nose was perfectly straight against the backdrop, and the eyelashes that Harry had always admired were glistening with shining wet drops that almost looked like tears. His lips were parted as well, and Harry watched, captivated, as Louis’ tongue swept out along the inside of his bottom lip to catch the rain that had collected there.

It was hard not to be stunned by the sight, and Harry was suddenly struck by the knowledge that if Louis turned his head or Harry shifted slightly to the side, they would be pressed close enough that he could…

But Louis didn’t turn his head, Harry didn’t shift to the side, and their relationship didn’t change in that moment as they sat in the rain together. Once he had recovered, Harry simply reached out and plucked Louis’ hand from where it was wrapped around his knee and wound their fingers together tightly before settling their arms together more comfortably.

After a moment of quiet, Louis murmured, “I probably should have told you that a little sooner, sorry. If I’ve been a bit… I don’t know, strange toward you recently, well, that’s why.”

Harry rubbed at his sternum as he shuffled a little closer so that he could squeeze Louis’ fingers comfortingly. He waited until the older boy finally glanced his way before he spoke, squinting through the rain so that he could meet Louis’ gaze. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Lou,” he said sincerely, and turned his head to peck his lips again the wet fabric of Louis’ shoulder before gently resting his head against him. “Not with me or anyone else for that matter.”

Very little needed to be said after that, and so they simply sat together as the rain slowly soaked through their clothing.

—

—

—

 

“You shouldn’t go,” Harry said, sitting on the bed as he watched Louis pack. Normally, he would help his friend in the process and even muck around a bit but today, it was all he could do not to snatch every item out of the suitcase that Louis put in there and put it back where it belonged. “We don’t even know how the publicity will go from now on. It’s probably already died down. It might even make it worse if you skip out now, right when people are speculating about it all.”

“You’re right,” Louis acceded easily, pushing another soft beanie into place. “They’ll probably think I’ve done a runner on Eleanor now that things have started coming out in the open – which, if you’ll remember, is actually one-hundred-percent true.” His quirked eyebrow was only half in humour as he continued his steady effort.

As it had turned out, none of the lads had been correct in their suspicions about who had leaked the information. It had been a stroke of luck when they had been informed that the rumour had been started by the very interviewer that had been crushing on Louis a few weeks prior, and that it had been speculation based upon what she’d observed during their session. It had been fortunate because it meant that there was yet to be any validation for any of the rumours flying around the internet, but also unfortunate in that – for what was probably the first time in her career – she had actually been completely correct. The young woman herself had only put forth the opinion that Louis’ memory had faltered, and the rest had escalated from there.

But the damage was done, and Louis had come out to confirm that he had experienced some degree of amnesia since the injury, with management taking care of the rest of the nastiness of the articles in the meantime. Still, Louis had decided it was time to take a brief trip back home until things calmed.

Harry’s initial instinct was to once more tell Louis that it wasn’t his fault that all this had happened to them; no one could foresee the accident, the amnesia and how it would unravel their relationship. It truly wasn’t Louis’ fault, no matter how little the guy could see that, and he deserved the break from everything being said about him so that he could realise that for himself.

 However, Harry’s petty side had other ideas – selfish, inconsiderate ideas that were fuelled by his desire to have Louis by his side forever and always. So instead of reassuring him, Harry tore his best friend down a little more. “If they think that now, then how’s it going to look when you run home and leave her here? You’ll look like even more of a twat if you avoid her, as well. Better you stay here and make it look like everything’s okay.”

Harry had meant to sound nonchalant, but judging by Louis’ expression, he hadn’t succeeded very well. Louis instantly knew something was off, and sent him a strange look out of the corner of his eye. “What’s got into you today? You never care about the paps; you always say it’s a pile of rubbish most of the time so we shouldn’t bother with them.” Unfortunately, that was true. “And I know I’ve always said I’d, like, look after the fans and keep them informed but they already know the whole story from us directly, so there’s no point in me hanging around ‘cause of that.”

 That was true, too, much to Harry’s annoyance. He was running out of ideas that would sound logical and sane.  He began grasping at straws. “What about the signings and that?”

“There are loads and loads of signed copies all over the place,” Louis brushed it off, waving a scarf at him before packing it away. The closet was looking frighteningly bare now. “You guys don’t need me for that, and I’ll be back in a matter of days anyway. It’s not like you need me for a performance or anything, that’s why I’m going now.” No matter what Louis said, Harry knew his best friend; he would stay at home for a week, at least, as he could never resist his family. 

“But we do need you,” Harry argued. “The fans come to see you, too.”

“And they will – in like, a week at most. Seriously,” Louis said in a lower tone, pausing to look Harry right in the eyes. His eyebrows were drawn together in a frown that looked more concerned than it did confused. “What is with you this morning? You know I’m not leaving the band or anything, right? I’d never leave you lads. This is just temporary, while I sort my head out a bit.”

Harry did know that; it only made the real reason sound that much more pathetic in his head. “I know,” he said dully.

“Then there’s no problem, is there?” Louis said brightly, and turned back to his packing.

Harry watched Louis stuff garment after garment into the suitcase until it was nearly full, feeling himself become more and more hollow inside as he did. It was like Louis was tugging Harry’s heart out of his chest and pushing it in there too, taking it away and leaving the rest of him sitting there on the bed to wait for his return.

Okay, perhaps that was slightly melodramatic for the situation, but the point was that Harry hated the idea of not being able to stumble onto Louis torturing food in the kitchen or stay up late talking to one another when he had only just got his best friend back again. That was the worst of it, he decided, knowing that he had only just regained his friend from the hospital before he was taken away again. How could he know that Louis would come back this time if he wasn’t there to keep him safe?

All too soon, Harry was jolted out of his reverie by a metallic, jangling sound. Louis was leaning on top of the stuffed suitcase with one arm, trying to zip the outside shut before securing the extra buckles over the top of it all. “There,” he said in a satisfied voice, smiling like he really believed he’d done a decent job when Harry knew that the second he got it open again, those clothes would be flung across the room like a projectile weapon. He’d seen it happen before, and he had no doubt that he would see it again. It was part of the reason their hotel room was always so messy because neither of them bothered to collect the cloth shrapnel afterward.

“Have I missed anything?” Louis asked out loud, speaking to himself more than Harry. He did a quick glance about him once or twice and then shrugged. “Oh, well. It won’t matter.”

“Don’t go.”

The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop them, and he felt his cheeks warm slightly as Louis turned to look at him. Though his face was flushing, his insides felt cold.

“Harry?” Louis asked, his voice gentled by concern. “Are you alright?”

“You shouldn’t go,” Harry said again, for the simple sake of saying something. He could feel his eyes beginning to ache in the corners and he knew that if he stopped speaking that stinging would become moisture and he didn’t want to cry over something as utterly ridiculous as this.

Louis looked honestly bewildered. “Why? It’s just a couple of days – a week at most.”

Harry stared at some point on the carpet beneath his feet as he mumbled, “Because I don’t want you to go.”

At first the older boy’s expression softened at Harry’s admission, and then it melted into a gooey, affectionate grin that had his blue eyes glowing with adoration. “Aw, Harry,” he cooed, and plonked himself on the edge of the bed to pull Harry into a hug. “Are you going to miss me?”

For one of the first times in their entire relationship, Harry caught at Louis’ hands as they reached for him and stopped the embrace before it could start.  Louis looked startled. Harry stared back at him without blinking and though his eyes had remained blessedly dry, he had to swallow past the hard lump that nearly prevented him from speaking. His face was pale now, but for the tiny pink splotches that sat high on his cheekbones.

“I mean it,” he told Louis, holding his gaze to show him that he was serious. His eyebrows were arched together in a pathetic frown, and his green eyes were so suffused with sadness that they had dulled to a pale jade colour. “I don’t want you to go.”

Instantly, Louis’ expression shifted into something more serious. He lowered his hands slowly, eyes roaming Harry’s face and reading all of the whirling emotions playing across his unguarded features. The teasing light faded from his expression and his teeth worried at his bottom lip a few times.

“You really do mean it, don’t you?” he asked softly.

With a self-deprecating shrug, Harry nodded meekly. “I do.” He stared into Louis’ eyes, selfishly hoping to find some sort of hesitance there, but instead found only his friend’s concern and anxiety. Harry felt a warm flush suffuse his chest at the caring look on Louis’ face and then, to his horror, all of the fear he’d been bottling up began to rise to the surface to choke him. The words rose up from his throat and stuttered their way off of his tongue. “I just… I don’t really want to be away from you at the moment, not when I just got you back and you were so close to being gone forever. You don’t know what it’s like, the way that I freak out whenever you’re five minutes later than I expect you to be ‘cause I can’t help but imagine you collapsed in a ditch somewhere or lying in a pool of your own blood, and it’s exhausting.” The slight circles beneath Harry’s eyes attested to that, as did the pale cast to his cheeks. “And I know it’s selfish and stupid but I don’t want you to go somewhere where I don’t know that you’re alright, not just now. I just really want you to stay, is that so hard to do? Can’t you just stay here and not leave me again?”

While Harry had managed not to let any tears escape his eyes, he found that his breath had shortened the longer he spoke to the point where, by the time he finished, his words were competing with the shallow breaths that forced themselves past his lips. His chest was rising and falling too quickly and it felt like he was having a panic attack. His lips trembled with the effort of keeping both competing tasks at bay.

“Harry…” This time, as he reached for him, Harry did not fight Louis as the older teen placed his hands on either side of Harry’s face and drew him in close so their foreheads rested together in their way. And, just as he always did, Harry drew a quick, shuddering gasp before relaxing into the grip. He focussed his eyes on the fuzzy blue patches of colour in front of him. “It’s alright,” Louis soothed him quietly, stroking both thumbs against Harry’s jaw. “I’m alright, Harry, I’m sitting right here next to you and I’m fine. I’m not hurt, I’m not lying in a ditch – I’m here with you, alright?” Harry let his eyes slip closed as Louis’ low voice washed over him. “It’s just you and me.”

They sat like that for a full minute, with Louis’ hands on his face and his voice in his ears while Harry held his fingers around Louis’ wrists in a light grip to keep him there. Louis continued whispering reassuring platitudes until Harry calmed down a bit and his breathing evened out.

Then, he sat back and met Harry’s weary gaze with a quizzical expression. “If you’re so worried about my safety,” he said slowly, “why don’t you just come with me? To Doncaster,” he clarified, as if Harry could have missed that part.

The curly-haired boy blinked in surprise. He hadn’t thought of that option, in all the time that he’d spent agonizing over Louis’ departure. “Oh.”

Louis laughed lightly at the look on his face. “So you were sitting here panicking about nothing, were you?” he teased gently, and pressed their foreheads together once more before pulling away. “You know you’re always welcome back home and I know the girls’ll love to see you again, no matter how much I protest. Ten quid says they hug you before they hug me, you charmer.”

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” Harry checked. “Your family, I mean.”

Louis brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “Of course not. I’ll just give ‘em a ring and let them know the change of plans, shall I? And, since it’s you, they won’t even have to set up an extra bed or anything.” With a cheeky smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows, he pulled out his phone and stood up to make the call. Mobile pressed to his ear, he covered the microphone before gesturing imperiously at Harry. “You better start packing though, mister. Get a move on. Shake that money-maker – oh, hi mum!” he said brightly, smiling into the call.

With a tiny giggle, Harry rushed out of the room to head for his own suitcase, feeling more tired yet lighter and happier than he had in days.

—

The car ride to Louis’ family home seemed to pass so quickly that Harry was sure he must have imagined staying awake the entire time. Talking to Lou about everything and nothing, messing with him while he drove and even once moulding his hand over Louis’ on the gear shift must have all been a dream, because there was no way they could possibly be coming up on the street in such a short amount of time unless Harry had fallen asleep without realising. He did so love Louis’ Porsche, so it seemed far more likely that he simply drifted off into the leather seats, lulled to sleep by the low, melodic humming of the engine.

He found that it barely mattered either way. The sun was drifting out of the orange-hued sky as Louis smoothly pulled up the driveway like he had never been away, and though they had been driving a while now, there was no sign of weariness in Louis’ face. He flashed a grin at Harry as they stepped out of the car together, eyes and teeth shining equally bright, and they didn’t even bother getting their bags out of the trunk before Lou was jogging toward the house.

Glancing up, Harry was surprised to feel a wave of contentment wash over him as he looked upon the Tomlinson home. It was not the first time he had visited, and he sincerely hoped it would not be the last, yet there was something so welcome about the sight of a real house. Not an apartment which, while beautiful, lacked the accompanying sense of safety that came with seeing a front door, a porch, and windows with tiny little faces pressing against the glass for a brief moment before they vanished in a flurry of movement. Even the doormat brought a smile to his face, and he made a tiny mental note to buy one to put in front of their flat.

The girls’ excited shouts sounded on the other side of the front door before they poured out onto the threshold and pounced on their older brother. Harry laughed out loud as Louis was yanked down, only to straighten with a sister balanced on each hip while Felicity jumped up to kiss his cheek three, four times. She was then pushed out of the way by Lottie, who wrapped her arms around Lou’s waist so she could curl into the space of his chest. Jay’s smile was blinding as she came out, too, and dodged her daughters so that she could greet her son.

Harry watched the reunion with a smile on his face, happy to stand a respectful distance so they could reconnect, but only a few brief seconds, Daisy’s hand caught his sleeve and pulled him into the embrace, as well. Jay kissed his cheek warmly, Felicity hugged her skinny arms around his neck, and he felt a brief moment of guilt at how at home he felt amongst them. He tucked away a reminder to call his own mum later so he would feel better about enjoying another family so much.

Once the initial reunion had run its course, Jay wrapped her arm around Harry’s shoulders and ushered him inside, calling to Lou over one shoulder as she instructed him to get Harry’s bags out of the car, because it was rude to make a guest do it. Harry burst out laughing at the look of outrage on his friend’s face, but Louis was soon cackling to himself as he ducked back outside, complaining very loudly about how he’d been replaced not even five minutes after returning home to visit them all.  

Daisy ended up in Harry’s arms somehow, without him even noticing, and he hugged the girl tightly as he was walked into the house, peppered with questions and concerns about whether or not he was hungry. Dinner was almost ready, Jay told him, but she could get him something else if he wanted. Too quietly for the girls to hear, she also asked him if he wanted a beer while he was here, raising one eyebrow, but Felicity demanded to know what had been said before Harry could get an answer out.

Their happiness all seemed to buzz in the house as Harry was settled in, making everything blur into a single, warm glow that encompassed the entire evening. Like when Harry had ducked upstairs before Louis could drag their bags up, lying sprawled on his side in the bed, and he’d greeted his friend with a wink and a flick of his tongue that had them both in fits of laughter for several minutes afterward. Louis disappeared again once he dumped their things – already tossing his jacket in the corner to ‘fix’ the tidiness of the room – as Lottie arrived to drag him away, arm-in-arm, as she volunteered to catch him up on everything he’d missed. Harry took the opportunity to assuage his familial guilt with a quick call home.

Their dinner passed in a haze of laughter and happiness, too. One moment the girls were fighting about who was going to take the seats on either side of Harry and Louis, and in the next they were each talking over each other as they fought to have the table’s attention. Phoebe and Daisy were sharing responsibility in telling the story of how a girl at school had hit her head during P.E. and then cried for an hour even though it hadn’t broken the skin and Louis hadn’t cried when they’d seen him, even though he almost died from hitting his head on the counter. Felicity had cut in to correct them, pointing out that her forehead had swelled up like a golf ball after she’d whacked it with the wooden handle of a skipping rope that flew out of someone’s hand, and that it was perfectly understandable that she cry about it. In what was unfortunately a very true story, Harry told them about the time that he’d tried filling in for a friend on the skipping team at his school and then ended up getting his feet tangled, propelling him face-first into the ground when they tried to yank the rope away. Daisy felt sorry for him, but Phoebe and Fizz had giggled so hard they had to press their fists to their mouths.

Beside him, Lou was needling Lottie for details about the boy she had been talking to at school, telling her that he would scour her twitter page for more information if she didn’t tell him. She blushed lightly, glared and punched his arm, but there was laughter sparkling in her eyes.

In the midst of all the warring conversations, somewhere in between chatting to Jay about his mum and Gemma’s spa vacation a few weeks back and being served a massive bowl of ice cream by Felicity, Harry felt Louis’ fingers brush his own. At first, he just lightly knocked their knuckles together to catch his attention and Harry glanced over to find that, even though he was looking away, Louis was struggling to hold in his laughter at whatever it was that Lottie was whispering to him. Harry took that as a sign that he would later be told in strict confidence what had so amused him, and smiled to himself before tuning intently into Daisy’s rambling once more.

Then, Louis did it again, this time hooking his fingers around Harry’s so the backs of their hands were lightly pressed together and their fingertips met in the middle. His thumb skimmed over Harry’s once. 

Harry felt his heart shiver in his chest, and in just a few brief moments his sensory awareness shrunk to the size of the warm, slightly rough pad of the fingertip that was drawing circles onto his skin.

The next thing he knew Daisy was slapping him on the arm and scolding him for not listening to her.

—

Later, Harry could still feel Louis’ fingers even though they were sitting on opposite sides of the room. He was curled up in a corner of the couch, ostensibly to watch the flickering TV screen, but instead he was trying not to smile as he watched Louis playing with his three youngest sisters. Strangely enough, even though he had thrashed them all at cards during his stay in the hospital Louis was doing curiously badly as he tried to play snap with Felicity. After he lost for the fifth time in a row, he accused her of cheating and then commenced a complex search of her sleeves for extra cards before he lightly tackled her to the ground to ‘beat the secrets out of her’. The twins howled in indignation and pounced on his back, and Harry hid his smile in the palm of his hand.

There was a momentary pause in the tapping that had become ambient noise to Harry’s ears as Lottie stopped typing and glanced up over the screen of her laptop.

“Hey, Harry,” she said, catching his attention.

He grinned once and raised his eyebrows in response, but was unable to pull his eyes away from the sight of Louis being overpowered by the sisters that were half his size. “Yeah?”

“Are you in love with my brother?”

Harry choked. He wished he could have managed a more eloquent response than strangling on his own saliva, but then again, he wished for a lot of things. Eyes wide, he turned to stare at the girl who was patiently awaiting his answer.

“What?” he managed, sure that he must have misheard her. She could not possibly know how forbidden that question was, about the complex and enduring effort Harry had put into forcing it down into the deepest recesses of his mind, yet surely no one could look so calm while putting such an idea forward. She had made it sound like a casual conversation topic.

Lottie blinked innocently at him for a few more seconds, and then her face broke into a startlingly familiar, mischievous grin. Harry wasn’t accustomed to seeing that look on a female face. Chuckling once, Louis’ sister gestured to her laptop as she explained, “Someone tweeted me and wanted me to ask you that next time I saw you. Don’t worry, I’m not going to reply to any of that, but it was worth it just to see your reaction.”

Still giggling quietly, Lottie turned back and continued typing, and Harry laughed like she hadn’t just brutalised his world with that one merciless sentence.

—

—

—

 

There was a strange quality to conversations at night time that went beyond explanation or description and made everything feel slightly dreamlike. When Harry fell into bed with Louis, crawling up the pillows and smiling like children, that sensation flowed in his veins and brought his heartbeat to a gentle lull. He wasn’t sure whether it was his own tiredness or the simple fact that he felt so incredibly comfortable beside his best friend, but he suddenly felt like he could say anything and everything in that moment. His head tipped to the side to look at Louis, and he found him looking straight back with that little smile on his face that said he knew exactly what Harry was thinking.

Harry smiled back without hesitating. “Louis?”

“Yeah, Harry,” Louis replied warmly, and reached up to brush a stray curl off of Harry’s forehead with the blade of his finger. His smile was sleepy and content as he let his hand drop between them, eyes threatening to slip shut already.

Biting the inside of his lip to keep from grinning at the sight, Harry blinked slowly before he asked, “Do you ever miss life before X Factor? Back when everything was normal and we didn’t have to worry about all of the publicity and everything, and you could stay home all you want and be with your friends without being called away, and you could spend time with your family…” It was a topic they had all discussed several times throughout their journey, but it was something that was weighing on his mind today after spending so much time with the Tomlinson family. 

Louis had to pause to smother a yawn against the back of his hand. “Do you?” he asked curiously, once he had recovered.

“Sometimes,” Harry admitted. “Things were far easier back then for me. I lived in my house and worked in my bakery and I loved my family and friends, and yes, I occasionally sung passionately into my shower head.”

The older boy grinned. “And you don’t do that now?”

“I do, but things are different now, you know that. It doesn’t feel right to think that seeing my family is a special occasion for me, that talking to my mum is a rare thing to happen, or that we have to drive all this way so you can visit your family.”

“I know,” Louis said sympathetically. “Sometimes it’s hard, and sometimes it just sucks outright being so far away. Believe me, I know, but there’s good things. There’s… meeting Robbie Williams, for example, and singing on a big stage in front of thousands of people and getting to buy my girls dozens of Christmas presents each. That’s a lot of fun.”

“Would you change anything?”

“Like if I could go back, would I do it differently?” he asked quizzically, and Harry nodded. Louis paused, tilting his head thoughtfully for a few seconds before he shook it from side to side. “No, I wouldn’t change a thing. I know what you’re thinking, and no, not even the accident.”

That had been what Harry was thinking of saying, but he hadn’t expected that answer from him. After the entire struggle that Louis had been going through in trying to get his memory back to normal, he would have easily expected him to try and go back instantly. Anyone else would have; Harry should have remembered that Louis wasn’t anyone, though.

“Why not?” he asked softly.

It took a moment for Louis to put his thoughts into words. “Because… I died,” he answered finally, and gave a tiny shrug. His eyes were focussed on Harry’s face as he spoke, his hands brought up beneath his pillow. “I don’t know that I can really talk about anyone else here, or what people say about near death experiences, but I do know that I feel different than I did before. Knowing that I died makes more of a difference than I thought it would, and whenever I actually take the time to consider the idea that I was gone, really gone, even if it was just for a seconds… it makes me feel even luckier to be alive than I did before, and I love it.

“I love looking out the window and seeing all those fans and knowing in my gut that I am absolutely blessed to still be able to appreciate it every time, and I love looking at my life with nothing but utter joy.” His eyes met Harry’s then, and they seemed to glow with sincerity and happiness. His lips bent in a beautiful smile. “I know it sounds cheesy, but knowing that I could have lost it all makes every single thing that much more wonderful now. Things I might have taken for granted or wished were different suddenly seem perfect the way they are, and I couldn’t be more grateful just being here. It’s a powerful thing to feel.”

Throughout his entire outpouring, Harry could do nothing but stare at the person opposite in absolute wonder. Louis’ voice was filled with utter sincerity and passion in a way that he had rarely heard before and it was clear that he meant every single word with his entire being. Where someone else might have become bitter after such an experience or turn to self-pity when they found they couldn’t function the same as they could before, Louis had seen the bright side of a blood-soaked fiasco and turned it into inspiration to be happy. He had died and he was still living more than other people did during their entire lifetime.

“You’re amazing,” Harry murmured impulsively, the words lilting up with his beaming smile.

All of a sudden Louis looked a little embarrassed, and a slight blush touched his cheeks. “I mean it, though,” he said, like he was worried that Harry was simply humouring him. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I know. That’s why you’re amazing.” The silly smile had finally faded from Harry’s lips, and he took several seconds to gaze into Louis’ eyes to let his best friend know just how much he meant it. That unbearable pressure had started to build in his chest again, but he still didn’t know what he was supposed to do with the feeling. He’d never felt anything like it before, he’d never felt so strongly for anyone, and that was exactly why he was so lost; he could see no way of dealing with it. He didn’t even dare to put his feelings into coherent thought.

It only worsened when Louis offered him another warm, genuine smile, strengthening the emotion that was slowly crushing him from the inside out.

“Hey,” Louis said softly, pulling Harry out of his reverie with the gentle word. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t think I would change anything either,” Harry told him, deciding to answer the question that hadn’t been openly voiced rather than the one that had. He was surprised to find that he was completely sure of his answer; even the not-so-strange emotion suffusing his chest felt oddly familiar now, and he didn’t want to leave a single bit of it behind. “As much as I wish you hadn’t fallen on your head –” Louis chuckled at that. “- I’m glad that we’re here now. Although I do still sometimes have the urge to jump on a plane and go far, far away from here,” he confessed as an afterthought, trying to make it sound like he was joking. It didn’t work. 

Louis’ owlish eyes blinked once as those words sunk in, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks. Then, he lifted a gentle hand to cover Harry’s and squeezed his fingers comfortingly. “I’m sorry for how hard this has been on you,” he told him, an inexplicable guilt in his eyes. “I wish I could do something to help.”

“You do help,” Harry assured him, but it didn’t seem to be enough; Louis pressed on.  

“No, really. I can remember all of these times that I’ve just wanted to do nothing but tell you that everything’s going to be alright, that you’re wonderful and loved and that’s all that matters.” His voice, which already had a slight natural rasp to it, sounded rough with emotion. “And I know it doesn’t seem like a big thing for you, but you’re seventeen, Harry, and I just… I wish that you didn’t have to deal with some of things that you have to. I wish you didn’t hurt because of what happened to me, or because of what our lives are now, but you do. I know you struggle with it sometimes… I can see it in your face, even when you don’t want me to notice anything at all, because you know there’s nothing I can really do. I know that, as well, but some days I feel like I would do absolutely anything to take the weight off your shoulders for a little while, and I wouldn’t give a damn about what it cost to do it.” He exhaled quietly, like he had been holding his breath, and when he spoke again his voice was just a quiet hum in the darkness. “I just want you to know that I will always be here for you, no matter what you need, and that…” His forehead pulled together into a light frown as he searched for the right words. “…that there is nothing you could ever do to stop me from believing that you deserve every bit of happiness that you can get.” He glanced up then, and held Harry’s swimming gaze for several endless seconds before lightly kissed the back off Harry’s hand and settled back onto the pillow. He wiped at the moisture around his eyes. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” he said simply, with a slight shrug of his shoulder, “and I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough.”

There was a hard lump in Harry’s throat as he wet his lips to talk, but he suddenly found that he couldn’t find a single word to say in reply to that. Any composure he’d hoped to maintain was in tatters. He was certain that quite a few tears had leaked out of his eye and rolled down his temple into the pillow, but he barely even paid any mind to it. He wanted to tell Louis that no one had ever said something so unbelievably caring to him before, and that he had never met anyone as incredible as Louis in his entire life, and he wanted to thank him for making him feel so indescribably safe and treasured. More than anything, he wanted to finally try and tell Lou just what he felt toward him and how confusing it was, but no sound came out.

He tried to show his gratitude silently, though, and his fingers tightened around Louis’ as he tried to summon a watery, wobbly smile. Louis’ answering smile was radiant, and he brought both his hands to return the trembling pressure that Harry offered.

They were silent for a minute, as Harry tried to swallow back his emotion, but then Louis took the effort out of his hands as he murmured, “Just so you know, if you do try and run away I’d fully expect to be invited.”

In spite of everything, Harry couldn’t stop the short laugh that burst out of his lips. The motion may have ruined his self-control and the chuckle may have sounded suspiciously like a broken sob, but as his face contorted with the overwhelming emotion within him, he was able to smile through it. He laughed as he began to cry in earnest, too, feeling both ridiculous and wonderful all at once.

“Of course,” he said thickly, sniffing. “No problem. We’ll run away together.”

Louis’ smile was so lovely it was almost hurt to look at; it made Harry want to cry harder, for some unfathomable reason. It was only then that he realised that half the tears coursing down his cheeks were ones of joy, not sadness. He was just incredibly happy have Louis there, like it was the hospital all over again and he couldn’t believe that he had lived. Like Louis himself had described, he was appreciating his presence in a way that he had never had before.

“You make it sound like we’re eloping, or something,” Louis sniggered. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Yep,” Harry said without hesitation, nodding seriously while he wiped at his eyes. “We’re going to get married.”

Louis didn’t even react to the news. “Oh, that’s good. We can go during the US tour,” he suggested, quirking one eyebrow. “We can just make a quick stopover somewhere legal, ditch the boys and go and find a nice place somewhere. Although… they might want to come,” he pointed out, grimacing.

“True,” Harry agreed softly. “And we’re an odd numbered band. It’ll make it tricky deciding who’ll be best man,” he clarified, at Louis’ puzzled look, and the older boy nodded in understanding. “Or men, really.”

Then, Louis’ eyes widened as an idea hit him. “We’ll make Liam the pastor,” he said, stifling a giggle. “Or he can give us away. I’m not sure he’d been too keen on the bachelor party, anyway. Say, do you think we could Niall or Zayn to wear a bridesmaids dress if we asked real nice?” he asked suddenly. “We could get something slinky for Zayn, so he would feel sexy enough to pose in the photos.”

The conversation continued like that long into the night, until they had formulated a decent wedding plan that even involved some honeymoon locations, dance numbers (the Fray was heavily featured, mysteriously) and some ideas for catering. It would be a suit-suit occasion, rather than trying to decide who’d wear the pants, but in truth, it was simply too difficult to decide who’d look best in a wedding dress for the occasion; Louis had the legs for it, but Harry had the pretty curls to pull it off.

They only stopped talking once Louis’ responses began coming between long breaks, and he had not opened his eyes for several minutes. Harry felt drained by his exhausting emotional upheaval, and though he was sufficiently calmed by their ridiculous topic of discussion, he could feel sleep tugging at his consciousness, too. Still, he couldn’t help himself from keeping his friend awake for just a little bit longer.

“Louis?” he breathed, watching the older boy’s face tilt toward him a fraction in response. Louis’ lips parted in a sighing breath, he swallowed, but he didn’t open his eyes as he replied.

“Yeah, Harry?”

Harry could only blame the fatigue clouding his thoughts for the ridiculous question that tumbled out of his mouth in that instant. Not that he regretted it. “Do you love me?”

A strange noise came from Louis’ mouth, halfway between a grunt and a hum that sounded vaguely approving. His eyelids didn’t even twitch. “Of course I love you,” he mumbled, turning lazily into a more comfortable spot on the mattress. “I love you a lot.”

“Really?”

“More than you know,” Louis sighed, like it was a promise, and then his head fell gently into the pillows, obscuring half of his face. He was already fast asleep.

Harry could have pretended he didn’t secretly cherish that short, sleepy little declaration, but it would have been a waste of effort that was otherwise devoted to containing his overbearing smile and trying not to laugh out loud. He bit down on his lip, before he leant down and pressed a kiss onto Louis’ eyelid, much in the way that his friend had done to him many, many times before. Harry wondered if he used to wrinkle his nose and burrow into the covers like Louis did.

 Then, as he stared at Louis’ face, something twisted in his abdomen, hard. His emotions were so flayed by what Louis had said to him that he was left defenceless against the sudden flood that came over him.

“No,” he told himself sternly, and his violent shout became an anxious whisper as it rolled off his tongue. He shifted back onto his pillow to stare at the ceiling far above his head. It wasn’t enough; he slung an arm over his face as well, blocking out everything in the room and squeezing his eyes shut, hard enough to make sparkles leap on the inside of his eyelids. “No, not now. Please.” He didn’t even know who he was pleading with. The only other person in the room was Louis, and he could do nothing to help with this.

Whether he wanted it to or not, Harry’s arm fell away from his face and his gaze fell back onto Louis’ shadowy form. His eyes moved over those lovely features under the cover of darkness, drinking in the sight in a way that he could not do while Louis was awake to catch him in the act. It was far more dangerous than he realised, especially as he found that he had risen up, propped up one elbow so he could continue to stare; so avidly that he would have been terrified to be on the receiving end of it.

Harry knew he wasn’t perfect, and he would never claim to be. He did not have perfect control over his desires as he might want. He was human, and it was that humanity that had his hand reaching up to carefully tuck an errant strand of hair behind Louis’ ear. His fingertips curled against the silky skin of his jaw, unwilling to be drawn away, and he was helpless beneath the force of the desperate impulse to kiss that moonlit cheek. He could do nothing but what his every nerve demanded. His heart beat in his throat as he shifted forward, just moulding his lips gingerly against the curve of the other boy’s cheekbone. Lingering there for only one heart-stopping moment, Harry drew back again to find that Louis’ mouth had parted in a low, breathy sigh.

Harry froze. 

He stayed very still as he waited, either for Louis to wake up or for his breathing to return to its normal, sleeping rhythm. After a few agonizing seconds, it was the latter that won out. Louis’ eyes shifted beneath their lids in a dream; Harry saw the way his fingers slowly unfurled at his side, and he knew that the older boy would not wake, no matter what happened around him. 

A very bad idea blossomed inside the younger boy’s mind, one that he knew he would come to regret in what was undoubtedly going to be a very short amount of time. It would not hurt Louis in any way - he would have absolutely no knowledge of it, after all - but Harry was almost certain that he would hurt himself in doing it. It was a terrible idea, an awful notion that he should have ignored if he had any sense at all. 

But Harry wasn’t perfect.

 He kissed him again.

Holding his breath until his head swam, he braced himself on his elbow once more so he could lean down and just brush his lips against the corner of Louis’ mouth.That’s all it was, he thought, just a tiny touch. Louis did not wake, he never knew anything about it, and in the morning it would be forgotten with the rising sun. It was just one tiny lapse in Harry’s control, one small indulgence and just one simple touch. It was barely a kiss at all; it didn’t mean anything.

And, if he parted his lips just a little bit, it was only to taste a hint of the toothpaste that they had both used earlier as the scent curled over his tongue. If his eyes fluttered closed, it was only so that his eyelashes would not disturb those that framed the older boy’s closed lids, and if he let his own lips gently fall closed around Louis’, it was only so that he would no longer lie awake at night wondering how soft that mouth would feel beneath his own.

—

—

—

 

When Harry awoke the next morning, it was with instantaneous, stunning awareness of what he’d done last night. He didn’t feel anxious or guilty about it as he had expected, but it was there, nestled in the corner of his mind like a light that he couldn’t turn off.

He had kissed Louis.

The thought left a tiny shivering sensation in its wake, but Harry was surprised to find that it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling. He knew it shouldn’t feel different, because Louis had already kissed him several times over the course of their friendship, but he still imagined that he could almost feel a light tingling leftover in his lips, or that his heart had not yet calmed.

He glanced over to find that Lou was still fast asleep, despite the brightness of the sunshine streaming through the parted curtains, and that his hand had closed around Harry’s wrist sometime during the night. Though he was unwilling to disturb him, Harry was already wide awake and alert, a strange energy buzzing in his veins even as he lay still on the mattress. As much as he might have wanted to stay and let the sleeping boy snuggle into his chest, as was the inevitable outcome of lying in any bed next to Louis, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to remain immobile long enough to let that happen. So, carefully dislodging Louis’ fingers and placing them back near the pillow, Harry slipped out of bed and padded downstairs.

While Harry might have been up early by Louis’ standards, the house was completely empty as he ventured down and he quickly remembered that it was still a weekday for all those who weren’t hiding out from the world. The girls would be at school and Jay would be at work, leaving only him and Louis left in the house that was silent for the first time since they arrived. Considering how much he had enjoyed spending time with Louis’ family last night, it was strange how much that realisation brightened his mood.

Jay had left a note on the kitchen counter, addressed to Harry, telling him to help himself to whatever was in the fridge, and the fact that she had known that Louis would be useless in the morning made him laugh out loud, an irrepressibly large smile spreading over his face.

He was in such a good mood as he began frying up some breakfast, humming absently under his breath and rhythmically drumming the spatula against the edge of the counter, that he did not notice Louis’ approach until he was quite literally right on top of him.

Flinging his arms around Harry’s waist, the older boy fell limply into his back and rested his head on the nape of his neck, sighing. “Morning,” he mumbled tiredly, as if it wasn’t almost noon, and smothered a yawn against Harry’s shoulder. “Mm… you smell delicious.”

Harry had startled at first, nearly shoving Lou away reflexively as the sudden weight landed on his back, but now he smiled. He could feel Louis’ lips brushing along his hairline as he nuzzled into Harry’s curls, and could only hope that the other boy was not alert enough to notice the goosebumps that rose along his spine. “That’s breakfast, Lou.”

“I did wonder why you smelled like bacon and eggs.”

Harry snorted under his breath and pushed Louis off of him with a light jab to his ribs. His mood was soaring, now. “Go sit down,” he said laughingly, waving the spatula in the direction of the dining table, but Louis shuffled back and dragged himself up to sit on the kitchen counter, instead. His ankles knocked together as he swung his legs impatiently.

“Why are you up so early?” Louis demanded in a croaky voice, and rubbed his knuckles into his eyes. “We’re supposed to be enjoying this little vacation, remember? You are allowed to sleep in.”

He shrugged. “I was already awake.” Then, he glanced over his shoulder to meet Louis’ sleepy gaze and smiled widely. “Besides, I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” he lied innocently, affecting a disappointed expression.

Louis blinked once. “Oh. Well don’t stop on my account, I’ll just pop back up –”

“No, no. It’s too late, you’ve ruined it.”

The older boy didn’t respond for several seconds, and Harry looked over to find that he was scrunching his brows together in an exaggerated frown, pursing his lips in displeasure. He broke the expression the second that Harry saw it, and his lips split into a wide, stunning smile that nearly made Harry drop the implement in his hand. Louis’ eyes held his, and Harry’s pulse spiked a bit before he hastened to busy himself with serving the food. 

He had thought he’d recovered by the time he turned back, but as Harry leaned over to slide Louis’ plate onto the counter for him, he saw a quick flash of the other boy’s tongue as it flicked out to wet his lips. And there it was again, that light pinging in the back of his skull.

He’d kissed those lips last night.

As he slowly began his own breakfast, Harry vaguely wondered what would happen if he tried to do it again this morning. Somehow he doubted that Louis would dissuade him, especially as the older boy was far more prone to public displays of affection than anyone else Harry had ever met, and he wondered what it would feel like during the day, without the shadows pressing in on them both. He wondered how it would feel to kiss him in the daylight, with warm sunshine falling over both their heads and Louis’ open eyes looking into his face. 

Harry only came back to reality when a curious voice broke into his happy fantasy world. “What are you smiling at?” Lou asked playfully, pausing with a forkful of eggs hovering in front of his mouth. He looked slightly self-conscious beneath Harry’s lingering gaze, but there was a strange glint in his eye like he could almost see the daydream that had been playing through Harry’s mind. 

Pushing his eyes down to his own food, Harry forced himself to stop staring and suddenly decided that a change of subject was very much in order. “So, what are we going to do today? You did say it was a vacation, after all. I think that implies some sort of activity.”

“I don’t remember saying anything about activity,” Louis protested. “In fact, I distinctly recall telling you to beless active with our vacation time.” He paused only to chew and swallow a rasher of bacon so fast Harry was surprised that the man didn’t choke on it. “Although if you had any ideas that you want to put forward, I’m not going to complain. As long as you give me some sort of caffeine first.”

“We could go out for coffee,” Harry suggested, shrugging, and it definitely did not occur to him that it sounded like he was asking Louis out on a date, not in any way at all.

Louis’ answering smile was blinding. “Sure.” He continued speaking as Harry turned to fetch another spoonful of eggs from the frying pan. “Although can we please not go anywhere that sells those weird, hybrid espresso things? El always has them, and she adds so much crap that it doesn’t even taste like coffee anymore. I had a sip of hers once and it’s haunted me ever since.”

He almost laughed at the disgusted tone in his friend’s voice, as if he could imagine no worse torture than that, but then Harry’s mind caught up with what his ears had heard and the dreadful meaning sunk in. He went over the sentence once more in his mind, wishing he could have misheard somehow, but there was no doubt about it. He had said her name.

Now, Harry did drop the spatula; it bounced noisily off of the tiles, splattering grease onto the nearby cabinets.

Harry’s stomach seemed to fall with it, and he turned with wide eyes to look at Louis, who had yet to notice the significance of what he’d just said. He noticed Harry’s incredulous stare, however, and lowered his fork with a far more self-conscious expression clouding over his features.

“What?” he asked defensively, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the tip of his finger. “What did I do?” Harry watched as Louis visibly thought over his last words, running them over in his mind just as Harry had done only seconds prior, and the younger boy thought he could actually feel his heartbeat stutter in his chest as Louis’ face froze in comprehension.

Slowly, Louis pushed his plate aside and eased himself off of the counter with both hands, like he couldn’t be stay sitting down all of a sudden. His eyes were turned inward as they flickered back and forth, undoubtedly looking over memories that Harry knew nothing about, and then, abruptly, that confused blue gaze snapped on to Harry’s face.

“Shit,” Louis said blankly, like he could think of nothing else to say.

Harry didn’t want to know, didn’t want to have it confirmed to him with such certainty, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “You remember her now?”

There was a strange note in Louis’ voice as he replied. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I remember her now, it’s all… Fucking hell, that’s ridiculous!” he exclaimed suddenly, one hand going to the scar on the side of his head. He laughed once. “It’s all right there, Harry! How could I… that is just so unbelievably ridiculous!”

Louis blinked once, his hand dropped back to his side, and in the space of a heartbeat his shock gave way to relief as his expression lifted into a beaming smile. With a great whoop of laughter, Louis launched himself at Harry’s unresponsive body and wrapped both arms tightly around his neck, shouting happily in his ear the entire time.

Then, he jerked back as quickly as he’d seized Harry’s shoulders. “Oh, my God. I have to call mum,” he babbled, and then his eyes widened. “I have to call Eleanor. God, Harry,” he breathed happily, and he leaned forward to hug Harry again, far more tightly this time. His fingers dug into the younger boy’s shoulders, not enough to hurt him, but enough that he was practically clinging to his friend’s frame as he held him. He lingered in Harry’s arms for a beat longer than would have been deemed appropriate before he darted away again.

“I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder as he jogged up the stairs, and Harry waved him off as casually he could manage. He was still waving after Louis had disappeared from sight, and he had to remember how to lower his hand again before he stumbled backward and braced his weight against the cool plaster the countertop.

He was so stunned that he could barely summon any sort of reaction to what had just happened. One moment, he had been eating breakfast, on the edge of flirting with his best friend in the world and asking him on a date, and then the next that best friend had suddenly regained that girlfriend that had finally been out of the picture for good. It had just happened so fast. It seemed that Harry must have been mistaken, that he must have been having a dream, because it did not seem like it should be possible that Louis could go from being so blissfully unaware of Eleanor’s existence to remembering her completely in such a short period of time.

It was simply not possible, and so how was he supposed to react to that?

Then, Harry’s heart clenched painfully in his chest as a terrible thought rose in his mind; he wondered if their conversation last night could have had anything to do with the recovery. What if Louis’ emotional outpouring had triggered some sort of release and led to him unlocking the memories he had lost? What if Harry was responsible, even in the smallest way possible, for bringing back the memories that he had so wished would stay gone? Harry had kissed him and, like a twisted version of the proverbial Sleeping Beauty, Louis had finally woken up.

Surely the universe couldn’t be that unfair.

“Harry!” Louis shouted from the floor above, startling the younger boy from his thoughts. Harry jogged over to the foot of the stairs to see Louis hanging his head over the banister to look at him, phone clamped to the side of his face. “Are you right to leave, then? I don’t want to ruin our vacation, or anything, but –”

“No, go ahead!” Harry cut him off, with a painful smile on his face. “That’s great!” His voice sounded strangled, but Louis seemed not to notice as he gave him the thumbs up.

Louis hovered there for a few more seconds, talking quietly into his mobile, but after a few short seconds he smiled and snapped the phone shut before bouncing back down the stairs toward Harry. He stopped a stair above the younger boy, smiling down into his face.

“So?” Harry prompted him unwillingly.

“I’m meeting with Eleanor later to clear everything up, finally,” Louis sighed, like he was exhaling the heavy guilt that had been weighing on his shoulders since the accident. He shook his head in disbelief, the shock still lingering in his expression. “It’s barely sunk in. It’s crazy, it’s like I can’t really look back at the past few weeks without wondering how I could forget all of this. All of the facts are back again, every date.” With a bright laugh, he leaned forward to hold Harry’s cheeks between his palms for a few warm seconds. “I spend one day of vacation with you, and suddenly my memory’s whole again. You’ve healed me! How is that even possible?”

Still chuckling, Louis moved back into the kitchen while Harry steeled his facial muscles against the pained grimace threatening to break through.

Suddenly, Harry knew just how it was possible. There was a God, and He was a spiteful son of a bitch with a cruel sense of irony.

“This is because I didn’t go to church, isn’t it?” he hissed at the ceiling, bitterness creeping into his voice. Predictably, he received no answer from on high, only a curious look from his housemate.

—

For Harry, the rest of the day passed in a terrible blur. As quickly as the car ride had seemed to pass on the way over to Doncaster, nothing could compare to speed of the return journey as he watched their time dwindle away. Each time he looked at the clock, hoping to see that only a few minutes had passed, he would find that a quarter-hour had flown by and another chunk of his time with Louis had been stolen from him – time that would now go to Eleanor, when they returned.

There was no more hand-holding over the gear shift, simply because Lou could not keep still long enough for his fingers to linger in place. He drummed them against the steering wheel, and looked startled when Harry wasn’t singing along to the radio beside him.

Harry scrabbled after every single second that slipped through his fingers and took every single opportunity to stall them, yet it still seemed that only a few short moments passed between Harry standing in the kitchen of the Tomlinson house to standing in his own kitchen, bags piled at his feet.

Harry blinked, and hours had flown by without his permission.

“I’ve got to go, I’m already late,” Louis said quickly at his side, frantically patting his pockets for the car keys. Harry knew where he would eventually find them, but pettily, he chose not to point that fact out and instead waited for Louis to finally smile and pull them out with a flourish. He did. He then leaned forward to peck Harry’s cheek before he hurried to the exit.

“Wish me luck,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his tone, and then he was gone.

It wasn’t long before Liam was slipping in, like their apartment had acquired some sort of revolving door that pushed another friend in as soon as the last one left. Harry was curled up in his corner of the couch, feet tucked up beneath him as he flicked through his twitter feed for a decent distraction.

“Hey!” Liam greeted him jovially, as he skipped forward into the lounge room with a bright smile on his face. “I have to say, that was the shortest holiday I’ve ever heard of. Did you even have time to unpack?”

Silently, Harry threw a glance toward the corner of the room, where Louis had unceremoniously dumped his luggage the moment they’d returned. He hadn’t even paused long enough to drag them into his bedroom before he had started babbling out how he had to leave before he’d miss their meeting if he didn’t go right away.

Liam followed Harry’s gaze, and his forehead was creased with a frown when his face swung back around to face his curly-haired friend.

“Are you alright, mate?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Harry lied, badly.

His well-meaning bandmate came to stand before him, and he touched Harry’s shoulder briefly as he looked straight into his eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, really! I’m just tired,” Harry assured him, and then stretched his mouth into what he hoped was a convincing smile. Somehow, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d managed to succeed. 

Liam blanched, and then tried vainly to cover his reaction. “I thought you’d be thrilled!” he exclaimed in a surprised voice. “I thought you’d be excited! Louis’ got his memory back, which means that we can all go back to work again, and people will finally find a new target to write about. Isn’t that a good thing?” He was looked far too closely at Harry’s expression, and the younger boy shifted uncomfortably beneath the scrutiny.

Harry almost considered telling him the truth. Perhaps not the entire reason for why he was caught in the desire to have his friend’s amnesia return, but enough so that Liam would understand and so that Harry could finallytalk to someone about what was going on.

Before he could even try to find the right words, there was a shout on the other side of the entrance and both Zayn and Niall burst into the apartment with wide smiles on their faces. Zayn had a few packets of crisps clasped in his hand and Niall was clutching a six-pack, but their excited faces drooped at the sight that awaited him.

“Oh, he did not leave before we could congratulate him,” Zayn said in disbelief.

A small grin cracked Liam’s concern as he replied, “Oh, yes he did.”

Niall looked appalled. “What, just because he has a two month long apology to make to the girl that he forgot about? We brought chips and beer! What has happened to that man’s priorities?” He manage to hold onto his faux-outrage for a split second longer before his easy-going personality won out, and he shrugged before snagging a bag out of Zayn’s hand. “Oh, well. More for me.”

Liam laughed, a comforting sound, and then sat himself down beside Harry to draw the younger boy beneath his arm. “We’ll celebrate for him,” he announced, grinning at the others over the top of Harry’s head, and soon they were all piling onto the couch to smother their youngest band mate with laughter and joy.

Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Liam understood more than he was letting on, because despite the impromptu nature of their tiny party, he encouraged the other boys to stay far longer than they would have otherwise. Not one of them brought up the subject of Eleanor and Louis, not even to casually mention it, and Liam seemed determined that Harry would not lose the smile off his face.

And, to the younger boy’s surprise, it worked.

—

Harry was sitting on the couch, one hand pressing absently at the remote as he channel surfed, when he heard the door open again. The lads had only left the apartment just over a half-hour ago, yet he was not surprised by the thought of Liam walking back in to make very sure that Harry wasn’t sulking. Reassurances rising in his throat, he glanced over the back of the sofa and then visibly startled as his eyes found Louis instead.

“What are we watching?” Lou asked him calmly, as he tossed his keys on the counter and made his way over. Harry’s eyes followed him as he stepped over to the couch, sinking gratefully into the cushions with a small sigh. As he always did, he turned so that he could rest his feet in Harry’s lap. When Harry didn’t reply, Louis raised both eyebrows at him before leaning over to pluck the remote from his hands.

“What are you doing here?” Harry blurted.

Louis laughed once, and then fixed the younger boy with a levelled look. “I live here, Harry,” he reminded him pointedly. “I do hope you haven’t forgotten that just yet. I know I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Exactly,” Harry said slowly. He waited until Louis turned to meet his gaze before he spoke again. “What happened? I thought you were catching up with Eleanor.”

Louis shrugged his shoulder slightly, his blue eyes calm and still. Lightly, he dangled his arm over the couch so that his hand rested against Harry’s shoulder. “I was. And now I’m back home.”

He shifted his head to return his attention to the screen, but Harry stopped him with a hand on the crook of his elbow. He felt himself frown. “But… I thought you were staying with her,” he explained uncertainly. “I didn’t think you’d be back tonight.” Though he tried not to let it show how it felt to admit that, the huskiness of his voice betrayed him.

Louis stared at him for a long time, something unreadable stirring far within his gaze. Then, he cleared his throat, shifted in his seat and turned to face the TV; even though there was only a commercial playing across the screen, his eyes remained glued as he spoke. “I guess… I’d rather be with you right now.”

Harry watched the glow of the television screen dancing across Louis’ face, and though he seemed to be genuinely interested in the program he’d landed on, Harry could not help but feel that he was missing something important.

—

—

—

 

There weren’t many things that could make Harry feel truly uncomfortable. He liked to think he was quite at ease in his own skin, sometimes very literally, and that after dealing with the X Factor craze he had become somewhat equipped to deal with awkward situations. However, no manner of training or management lectures could have prepared him for just how very uncomfortable he felt as he stood across from Eleanor, complete silence enveloping them both.

They were scheduled to have rehearsals later in the afternoon, so Eleanor had arrived early to the apartment to take Louis out for breakfast before they had to leave. Unfortunately, Lou had still been in the shower when she arrived, and Harry had unknowingly gone to open the door wearing very little of anything at all, because he had expected one of the lads to be wandering into his apartment and not his band-mate’s girlfriend. There had been a brief instant of averted gazes before he invited Eleanor inside with a quick promise to put on some more clothes. 

Still, as the unbroken silence continued to stretch out in the living room, Harry thought he would probably have traded that momentary discomfort for the prolonged social torment that he was experiencing now.

It was the first time that he had come face-to-face with the girl since she had been so abruptly thrust back into Louis’ life almost a week and a half ago, but that had not been an accident; it had been a result of complex effort and planning on Harry’s part. He found that if he did not actually see her, he could then successfully indulge in complicated fantasies in which Louis was simply taking a few hours to himself and not seeing his girlfriend. It helped that her name was so rarely brought up inside the walls of their apartment, though that truly was a cheerful happenstance, and not by Harry’s design. He might have been determined to ignore her, but Louis was making it very easy for him.

It was the only thing Louis was making easy for him. Of late, it was all Harry could do to keep from falling apart every single time Louis was within a meter’s distance from him - yet it seemed that his roommate could find no other space to occupy. His hands were constantly in Harry’s hair or brushing against his fingers, his lips had found their way to Harry’s neck on more than one occasion, and each time he so much as glanced in the younger boy’s direction, Louis had the devastating ability to make the temperature of the entire room rise a few more degrees.

But, most importantly; sometimes, as those wicked blue eyes burned their way through his skull, Harry could have sworn that Louis was feeling the same exact same fire that he was. 

“So how was Jay?” Eleanor asked suddenly, voice casual, as if they had been in the middle of a conversation Harry did not remember taking part in. He managed not to jump in surprise as he looked over, and she smiled at him. “I heard you guys had a great time up in Doncaster. Apparently the girls won’t stop talking about you, especially Daisy.”

“Yeah, it was great fun,” Harry replied quickly. “Jay seemed happy to see Lou again, mostly, and I chatted to her for a bit. She’s doing well.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

She hesitated for a moment, and then they lapsed into silence again. Eleanor offered him an awkward smile, but she did not make another attempt to strike up a conversation. It was a blessing when Louis finally emerged from the bathroom, even if Harry knew it was only to disappear with his girlfriend. It was fortunate that he was dressed, because Harry thought he might have just leapt out the window if he had to stand in the same room with both Eleanor and a semi-naked Louis.

The man in question stopped short as he saw them both standing there, and a nameless emotion flickered over his expression before he smoothed it away with a smile. “You’re early,” he said warmly, addressing Eleanor. “You should’ve called, so I’d have been ready. You wouldn’t have had to wait.” Harry turned his gaze to the ceiling briefly as Louis ducked in to kiss her cheek, his fingers hovering near her shoulder.

“It’s alright,” Eleanor told him easily, returning the smile. “I don’t mind waiting, and Harry was here to keep me company.”

Only Harry knew how much of a lie that was. However, he wasn’t sure whether the attempted deception on his behalf made him like her more or less than he did before.

Louis smiled again, and then jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “I’ll just grab my shoes, I’ll be right back.”

Once he was gone, Harry imitated the gesture as he began to make his way back to his bedroom. Now that Louis had arrived on the scene his obligation to remain with Eleanor had lifted, and he wanted nothing more than to escape.

“It was lovely to see you,” he said politely as he walked away, giving a stiff wave of his hand. “I hope you guys have fun this morning.”

“Wait, Harry,” Eleanor said suddenly, and took a step forward. Harry hesitated, but so did she. Another tense quiet blossomed before the girl abruptly shook her head, a tiny, bemused smile bending her lips as she waved him away. “Never mind, actually. It really doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded vigorously, adding a small, melodic laugh that perfectly matched her pretty face. “Definitely,” she said, and there was a strange note of embarrassment in her voice. “Go on.”

Harry would have, but Louis had already returned with his feet safely secured in a pair of Toms and was looking curiously between them as he moved to join Eleanor’s side. He didn’t comment on the thick awkwardness in the air, though his expression clearly stated that he had noticed it. His eyes lingered on Harry’s face for several seconds before he tugged them away.

“You ready to go?” he asked Eleanor. She nodded once, and then he slipped his fingers between hers as she offered him her hand. Louis smiled over his shoulder at Harry before he left, shutting the door with a softly spoken goodbye, and once he was sure they were gone, Harry promptly threw himself face-first into the couch with a weak groan.

—

Every one of the One Direction boys knew that something was wrong with their eldest member the moment that they turned up to rehearsals together – because Louis arrived early. At best, the lad could manage to show up exactly on time for their sessions, but he was constantly on the edge of being late. It had been that way during the preparation for the X Factor tour all those months ago – although that was mostly due to the fact that he had been messing around with Harry beforehand – and not one of them could recall a single instance where Louis had been the first one to the studio.

He gave no hint of being upset during the rehearsals themselves, and upon questioning he simply explained that he had already gathered his gear before he left for breakfast, and because he had already been out and about, he made good time to the studio. Niall shrugged and accepted the reasoning before pulling his friend into a hug and dragging him back into place beside him as they continued on with their practice. Zayn and Liam had exchanged a surprised glance during Louis’ explanation, and though Liam turned to Harry to ask for his silent opinion, the youngest lad had been too preoccupied with frowning at Louis to notice.

Harry watched Louis for the majority of their rehearsal, and for once he didn’t bother trying to temper his behaviour for the cameras hovering around while they worked. He was unbearably curious about what had happened to make Louis act so sedately during their session, yet at the same time, every time he considered the possibilities his heart pumped so hard in his chest he lost track of what he was supposed to be doing.

Nonetheless, he tried to keep his gaze on the older boy as much as he possibly could, so it was an intense surprise when, as their rehearsal drew to a close, he looked up to find that Louis was already gone. He had not even noticed him leaving, and yet no one else was reacting to his absence. They may have only just finished, but surely someone should have protested against his abrupt exit, in case he missed something important.

Disappointment shriveled in his gut as Harry accepted the very probable notion that Louis had made extra plans with Eleanor tonight. It would have explained the mad dash to escape rehearsals before anyone else, or why he had not remained behind with the person he lived with, and so it seemed the most likely scenario. He tried to pretend that it didn’t bother him as much as it did, but he could barely manage that lie even to himself.

Apparently, it didn’t work on Liam either, despite the fact that Harry had yet to try and deceive him when he spoke up, glancing over at Harry from the open doorway as he made to leave.

With something of a smile playing on his face, Liam jerked his head toward the hall that they had just exited. “Lou’s just ducked into the gym, Harry,” he said. “He didn’t leave without you. In fact, he left his things back in the rehearsal room when he went, so make sure you remind him to pick ‘em up before you go, alright?”

This time, Harry didn’t bother trying to hide his reaction; he smiled at the news, and thanked his friend with an obligatory comment about his paternal habits. Liam simply snorted under his breath and waved an arm behind him in farewell as he pushed out into the evening air.

The studio ‘gym’ was little more then a small, well-ventilated room that housed a convenient collection of equipment so that the boys would have somewhere private to work out, should they feel the need. It was equipped with the basic materials, such as the exercise balls, weights, skipping ropes, and a few punching bags that were suspended from rings in the ceiling – the latter of which Louis was making use of when Harry happened upon him.

One glance through the glass window embedded in the gym door showed Louis with light gloves strapped over his knuckles, steadily throwing punches into the bag with single-minded focus.

Harry slipped quietly into the airy exercise room and hovered by the door, waiting for Louis to notice him standing there. Watching the force that the manput behind each punch, Harry was sure he didn’t want to be the one that disrupted him, so he was forced to stand quietly and wait for a break in which to speak.

It was a tough job, Harry thought absently as his eyes strayed to the muscles leaping in Louis’ bicep, but he could do it for his friend. There was a light sheen of sweat coating Louis’ tanned skin from the exertion, and his shirt pulled tight against his frame as he twisted and shifted with each extension of his arm. The hem of that tee rode up occasionally, exposing a sliver of skin above his waistline for just a few brief seconds before it fell back into place, and Harry found that he was having difficulty remembering why he was there, all of a sudden. He concentrated on keeping his breath even and chose not to think about the warmth settling on his skin, but it was to little avail. His fingernails dug into his palm, his teeth found his bottom lip. Louis was biting his lips occasionally, too, tugging and dragging at them in concentration as he positioned each strike against the bag, and each time, his tongue swiped out to erase the tiny marks he left on that perfect, pink skin. His jaw was taut and hardened with his focus. His long fingers were graceful as he stretched them out and then curled each one back into his palm, squeezing so that the tendons pushed out in the back of his hand. His tongue brushed against his lip once more.

With an inaudible gasp for air, Harry forcibly dragged his gaze over to an exercise machine in the corner and commenced a long staring competition with the innocuous stainless steel, trying vainly to still the squirming inside him. He tried not to listen to the quiet, rough breaths that escaped Louis’ lips, but they seemed to sink straight into his brain to drive him insane. His back touched the wall for support. He started to count in his mind, focussing on anything but the sound of that panting.

One… 

He could clearly imagine the air raking up through Louis’ throat, flowing over his tongue.

Two… 

Harry could almost feel the serrated edge of the guttural noise that escaped Louis’ mouth as he landed a particularly violent punch.

Three… 

He could picture the shape Louis’ lips would form around the air in that slow, controlled exhalation.

Four…

“Harry?”

He started, and glanced over to see Louis pressing a towel to the underside of his neck, tilting his head in curiosity at Harry’s presence. Swallowing, Harry pushed his lips into a smile and stood up from the wall. “Hi.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Louis asked.

“Not long,” Harry lied. “I was just waiting for you to finish. Feeling energetic, I see.”

Louis glanced back at the punching bag like he had not just spent a good ten minutes beating the living hell out of it, and then shrugged. “A bit. You should have said something; I would’ve stopped for you.” His eyes held Harry’s for a moment before they flickered to his own feet, and he buried his face in the towel to wipe his forehead.

“I didn’t realise you were still here,” Harry told him once he emerged. “I thought you had plans with El tonight, otherwise I’d have come with you.”

“It’s alright. I wasn’t expecting you here at all,” Louis admitted, tossing the towel in a corner. “And I did have plans with her, but… I don’t know.” His eyes flashed with guilt as they skittered away from Harry’s face, and his mouth twisted into a grimace.

He was silent for a long moment, looking far more sombre than the conversation truly dictated, and then he suddenly launched into an explanation that he seemed unable to control. “I’ve fucked everything up, Harry,” he blurted. “I thought that when my memories came back, so would my feelings for her, and so would the relationship that I now know we really did have, but… they haven’t. I can remember exactly why I liked her, remember everything about her, but I don’t feel it like I used to and it is actually going to turn me insane because instead of being out in a restaurant explaining that to her face like any normal person would, I’m hiding in this studio because I lied to her and said that rehearsals were running late so I didn’t have to hurt her all over again like I would if I told her the truth.” He paused, took a moment to breathe, and then nodded at Harry once more. “Or, you know, in a shorter version… I wasn’t expecting you,” he said meekly.

It took a short moment of consideration for Harry’s mind to process what he’d just heard, and then he said the first thing that came to his lips, praying that his voice would not betray the hope he felt. “You don’t like her anymore?”

“It’s not…” Louis began, and then cut himself off with a defeated sound. “I don’t know. I knew that something was off from the beginning, as soon as I met up with her the day we came back. The second I started talking to her, I realised – that’s why I left so early that day, if you remember.”

Of course Harry remembered; he remembered everything about Louis.

“But I thought I was just getting used to it again, that everything’d fall back into place after a few minutes, and I would feel the same way. Instead, I just feel guiltier each time I see her ‘cause I not only did I forget about her existence, I actually went one better and completely lost interest while she waited for me to recover!” he exclaimed, bitter humour bleeding into in his voice. “So, what am I supposed to do with that? I couldn’t break up with her if I tried, not after everything’s she’s already been through, so what do I do? Do I tell her the truth, and make her feel even worse, or do I keep pretending nothing’s wrong in the hope that I’ll get it back?” His words seemed rhetorical, but his eyes bored into Harry’s as if begging for him to provide the answer that would absolve him.

All Harry could think of was that if Louis knew how he felt, he would never have been so cruel as to put that decision into Harry’s hands. He could find no words to say.

In the end, Louis did not need him to speak. Gradually, the agitation in his expression faded, and he breathed more evenly than he did before. “I know that I have to try and make things better,” he finally said, staring at some point on the far wall. His voice was dull, yet determined. “I know that I have to do something, at least, instead of just pushing it away. Maybe if I actually give it a go, I’ll…” He grimaced again, and his voice lost its edge. “It’s just that every time I try, it’s like something’s in the way, like…” His voice trailed off into a mumble, until he had stopped speaking entirely. A frown marred his forehead and his lips formed silent words that Harry could not follow.  

Harry counted to fifteen in his mind before he interrupted the other boy’s thoughts. “Lou?”

It seemed to take a great deal of effort for Louis to look up; his Adam’s apple jumped in his throat, his hands twitched at his sides and he inhaled a quick breath before he managed to lift his gaze. When he did, his expression was surprisingly vulnerable, his eyes strangely wide and anxious in his face, and the frustration with which he had just ranted about his life had all but disappeared from his face. 

Then, he did a slight double take as he glanced up at Harry’s face, his brow creasing into a deeper frown, and he stepped forward to peer more closely at him. Harry felt a tiny hint of nervousness in his belly as Louis walked slowly forward to stand opposite him, his gaze still intent on his face.

Louis only spoke when he was a few inches away. “Your lip’s bleeding,” he said, and his voice was suddenly soft. His eyes flickered between Harry’s eyes and his mouth and he looked fascinated, like the younger boy was something to be marvelled at. It was hard for Harry to think with him standing so close. He could hear the sticky sound of Louis’ hard swallow, breathe in the scent of his skin. How was Harry supposed to think when he could feel the air trembling with Louis’ shuddering breath?

“Uh…” he managed, and then stopped short. He could honestly not remember any other intelligible words to follow that noise.

The look that shone in Louis’ eyes was one that Harry had seen a very few number of times, only when Louis was physically incapable of hiding it, and it destroyed every single one of the buffers Harry had tried to put up against him. As the seconds ached on and he did not move away, Harry was sure that he couldn’t possibly imagine the tension that had stretched out in the air, taut and unyielding. It was as if Louis knew the truth; that he was the reason that Harry had bit into his lip hard enough to draw blood, and that he was the reason why his heart was pounding so very loudly. It seemed the only possible explanation for why he was so mesmerised by the sight.

As if moving on its own, Louis’ hand rose up to rest against the side of Harry’s jaw so his thumb could gently brush away the drop of blood that clung to his bottom lip. It left a crimson swipe on his skin for the length of a heartbeat, and then Harry watched as Louis stuck the tip of his thumb between his own teeth and licked away the blood. A tiny bit of saliva shone on his fingertip as he returned it to Harry’s mouth. He continued to clean off any remaining residue, and as his thumb tugged gently on Harry’s bottom lip, pulling it forward a little, Harry’s tongue darted out to moisten the exposed underside in pure habit. The tip of his tongue accidently touched the edge of Louis’ thumb, startling his senses with the taste of his warm skin, and without even thinking about it, Harry drew it a little further into his mouth. His lips were lax as he closed them around Louis’ finger briefly, so soft and pliant that it was like they weren’t touching at all.

Louis drew his thumb away slowly once Harry released it a moment later, but his hand did not go far. Harry’s insides tightened at the darker look that cross over Louis’ face, and he hated the older boy for wearing an expression like that, like he wanted the kiss hovering between them as much as Harry did, because he knew that the illusion wouldn’t last long. Soon, Harry would blink and Louis would not be looking at him like that anymore, and he would have to face the fact that he had imagined the whole thing. He waited for it to happen, dreading the return of reality that would turn desire into cool friendship once more. 

But then, Louis’ fingers splayed across the side of Harry’s neck, dipping into his curls once and holding him in place. He dragged at Harry’s lower lip again, once, before his thumb trailed down his chin and followed the line of his throat to rest over his collarbone. With his other hand, he carefully reached up to cradle Harry’s face, fingertips caressing the line of his jaw from the hollow beneath his ear to his chin, painting his touch back and forth over the sensitive skin. All the while his eyes roamed over the younger boy’s face, caught in the same fervour that Harry had witnessed earlier.

Harry dared not even breathe beneath Louis’ gaze. His pulse continued to thump hard in his chest, a strangely hollow sound echoing within his ears.

“What do I do, Harry?” he asked quietly, and he looked utterly lost all of a sudden. He continued to trace the lines of Harry’s face as he spoke, as if he was unaware of what he was doing, or how intensely he was staring at the younger boy’s lips. “Tell me what I should do.”

And there it was.

In that one moment, as Louis’ unguarded eyes lifted to stare straight into Harry’s, the younger boy saw with absolute clarity how much sincerity there was behind that request, and he knew that Louis would have done whatever Harry asked him to. If he had taken the opportunity to tell him that he should break up with Eleanor, he would have. If he’d dared to tell Louis to kiss him, he might have finally relieved some of the desperate pressure inside him.

But he didn’t. The open look of trust and warmth swimming in those blue eyes momentarily stunned him, and though he hesitated for only a brief second as he scrambled for some sort of reply, it was enough. Louis blinked, and reality descended. 

His defeated sigh fell on Harry’s lips as the older boy let his gaze fall again, followed by his hands. Harry’s skin burned where Louis had touched it as cool air flowed over him once more, and in the short time that it took Lou to take a single step away from him, he already missed the heat of those fingertips. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologised suddenly, and his features were twisted in regret as he met Harry’s bewildered gaze. “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have… tried to put you in that position. It’s wasn’t fair of me to do that.”

Harry’s mind was still hazy, but he knew that things had turned very badly all of a sudden. “No, no,” he said quickly, reaching for Louis’ hand. “No, it’s okay. It’s fine.” Somewhere deep in his mind, Harry was mentally screaming in frustration at the words that came from his own lips. They were all wrong; they made it sound like he was forgiving Louis for what he’d done, when in actuality he could not have been gladder for those few precious moments. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Okay, maybe not to you directly,” Louis allowed, “but I shouldn’t be doing this anymore. I shouldn’t even be here right now, I just… it’s so easy to be with just you, because when you’re around I don’t think about anything else. Or anyone else.” He said the words so simply, unaware of how they knocked the breath from Harry’s lungs. “But I can’t keep hoping that…that the problem will go away,” he finished stiffly, and even amidst his own heartbreak, Harry had the strangest feeling that that wasn’t what Louis had been planning to say.

Then, the older boy straightened and took a deep breath. “I’ve got to talk to her, haven’t I?” he said resignedly. Before Harry could say anything, Louis tenderly smoothed the curls back from his brow and trailed his fingers down the younger boy’s cheek once more before he let his hand fall. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Don’t thank me,” he replied instantly, for all of the wrong reasons, and then wondered why those were the three words that he could manage, when the three that he had intended to say still stuck in his throat.

“I’ll talk to you later and tell you everything that happens, alright?” Louis asked next, as if Harry could have actually had any possible inclination to hear the details of Louis’ arduous struggle to rekindle a relationship with someone else, when Harry was right there at his fingertips, only one more heated look away from falling to his knees and finally confessing that he was desperately, agonizingly, head-over-heels in love with him.

“Great!” Harry exclaimed weakly. Then he smiled, gave him a quick thumbs-up, and watched Louis walk out of the door one more time.  

 

Later that evening, when Louis finally returned to their apartment, Harry knew without being told that the conversation had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

He knew because Eleanor was still stuck to the arm of the man he loved.

—

—

—

She was just sitting there, all the time.

They weren’t as touchy as they had been before and Louis was evidently still nervous about trying to revive whatever relationship they had had. Harry didn’t want to think too closely on what exactly they might have changed, or what they had taken out that made things so different. He would have loved to go on thinking that while they were dating Louis had done nothing more than walk around the park and watch telly with the beautiful girl that adored him, so he let himself do just that and ignored everything else. Whatever their relationship had been before the accident, it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t change the fact that Louis and Eleanor were very careful around each other now, even as they sat in the apartment with the boys, yet despite the cool nature of their bond Harry still felt himself seething in her presence.

Harry didn’t understand the hatred he found himself feeling quite a lot of the time. He hadn’t disliked Eleanor at all before the accident – he’d even quite liked the girl, with her easy smiles and cheeky attitude that complemented Louis so well – yet now it was a constant struggle to smile at her and pretend that he didn’t mind her sitting next to Louis or simpering into his face. It wasn’t just her presence, though; he actually hated veryspecific aspects of that sweet girl’s personality. He frequently found his gaze drawn over to the pair, watching them with nasty eyes and zoning in on every movement she made toward him while resentment bubbled in his stomach like acid. It was only made worse by how much effort he could see Louis putting in to make her happy. Harry just wanted Louis to relax and think about himself for a while, not run back into Eleanor’s needy arms.

He wanted to tell himself that was the reason behind his behaviour over the next few weeks and why he acted so uncharacteristically, but he knew the truth; he was jealous, and not only because of what he knew he felt toward the older boy. He’d been with Louis so closely, felt so connected and perfectly in synch with him that it was physically uncomfortable to be separated now. They hadn’t been so close, not ever, and now that Eleanor was back in his mind and his space it was becoming impossible to have time to themselves.

Like when she sat in the apartment in the evenings – Harry and Louis’ apartment. Theirs, not hers. They were the ones that lived together, though she didn’t seem to be able to realise that fact.

“Do you want a cuppa, Harry?” Eleanor called out from the kitchen, as she fixed Louis a cup of tea. She sent him a friendly smile over the box of tea bags, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“No,” he said shortly. “Thanks.”

She shrugged a little and simply continued. A few minutes later, when she returned, it seemed that she was unable to simply hand Louis’ the mug; she had to sit right beside him on the couch and ease it into his fingers like he couldn’t grip it properly otherwise. “There you go,” she said absently, before settling into the couch and returning her eyes to the television.

Louis took a careful sip. “Hmm,” he said. He sounded mildly surprised. “How I like it, too. Thanks, El.”

It wasn’t hard, Harry thought. Louis didn’t like sugar in his tea, just milk; it wasn’t rocket science.

“Oh, here,” Eleanor said suddenly, and reached up to tug Louis’ collar into place for him. They shared a brief smile before looking back to the screen, Louis still sipping at his tea and leaning onto the armrest.

Harry’s skin crawled.

Harry was in fact aware of how unreasonable he was being, but that didn’t make it any easier to stop feeling that way. He wished Louis had never remembered her. He wished Eleanor had simply faded out with such an easy out; no one would have blamed Louis for what had happened, and there was no real fault in such a break up. Eleanor would have had to give up eventually and Louis could have gone without any residual feelings about the relationship he could not recall.

The younger boy often found himself fluctuating between resenting Eleanor for being in their lives and resenting Louis for what that infuriating boy had done to his sanity. He spent his nights planning elaborate plans of driving El away, which frequently involved Louis crawling back on his hands and knees, confessing his love and asking to spend every minute of the day with him again, apologising for wasting his time with Eleanor. Other times, his fantasies were a little less kind on them both. A part of him just wanted someone else to feel bad for once, and sometimes that meant that he wanted Louis to fall helplessly in love with him so he could hurt in the way that Harry did, or that he wanted the both of them break up in the most painful, messy way imaginable.

Mostly, he just wanted Eleanor gone.

His bitterness became such that he accidentally stumbled into a relatively painless of way dealing with it. When he could no longer handle being around Eleanor, he would simply leave. If he couldn’t stand looking at Louis’ face when he wanted nothing more than to climb on his lap and bury his face in his neck, he would simply ignore his presence so it couldn’t trip him up. He’d meet up with the other lads or talk to a friend and he would pretend that Louis was sitting at home missing him. He’d imagine Louis sitting on the couch with an arm not-quite-around Eleanor, glancing at the door every few minutes as he wondered where Harry was. He imagined Louis beginning to frown in guilt and sadness because Harry wasn’t there, and it made him feel a little better as he drowned his feelings in whatever or whoever came along to distract him.

Harry had never before considered the possibility that Louis could make him feel bad. Louis had told him he loved him without limit, he had spent the last year making him feel unbelievably treasured and made him smile more times than he could count; it hadn’t seem possible that he could make Harry’s insides twist in the way that they were doing now. Then, with the accident, they’d become everything to each other. The public wanted them together, the fans adored their relationship and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen an article where their names weren’t printed side-by-side every single time they cropped up. How could it be that he was now stalking any other friend to try and replace the hole that Louis had left behind?

Their relationship, whatever is was, had been so strong, and now Harry felt like doing nothing more than taking an axe to it completely. If Louis wanted to go back to the way things were before, who was Harry to stop him? If he wanted to go back to his own bed at night, Harry was happy for him. If he wanted to have a girlfriend, then he could just go ahead. Harry would never try and stop him, nor would he ever, ever let that man know how much he loved him, or how he ached without him; Harry would never let him know anything about it.

If he had ever been able to witness his behaviour objectively, Harry would have been mortified by what he’d done, but he never did. In a haze of bitterness and broken feeling, he wallowed in his own self-pity and brutalised the one person that he wanted to be with most of all.

It was only when his band mates began to call him on it that Harry even took a moment to actually acknowledge what he was doing. At first, they confronted him individually with concern and questions that ended on gentle words and consolation. Niall asked him what was going on, and told him to look for him if he ever needed someone to talk to. The blonde-haired lad held his shoulder tight and gave Harry a hug, as if he thought that Harry was still saddened about the accident, like that wasn’t completely behind them already. Harry smiled robotically and patted Niall’s back before withdrawing and assuring him it was all fine.

But he didn’t stop.

Next, Zayn and Liam also put in their opinions, with a harsher edge than sweet Niall had. When Harry came late to his rehearsal for the first time, Liam pulled him aside and asked if he were feeling well. When Harry told him he wasn’t sick, Liam said that that wasn’t what he’d meant and looked too deeply into his eyes. Uncomfortable, Harry had pushed it aside again and told his friend that he’d overslept.

When Harry stayed with Ed for two days, keeping out of touch for the entirety of that time, Zayn had demanded to know what was going on. He asked about what he was feeling specifically, and even asked if Louis had something to do with it. Harry had rankled at the suggestion and told him that the world did not revolve around Louis, and that it was nothing to do with him. That had got him a sharp look and a displeased frown on the part of the loyal Zayn, and Harry had turned away and left before any row could have broken out.

 -

The day after his conversation with Zayn, all three of his band mates cornered him in what Harry mistakenly thought was rock bottom. At the time, it seemed like things couldn’t get lower than that, but he was so very wrong.

“Harry,” Liam said firmly, as the boy tried to leave. Louis had already headed on before them, and the lads had made a group decision to stop the youngest member before things got any worse. Already, Lou had taken to leaving the apartment early in the morning to avoid Harry’s cold shoulder, and it seemed obvious to everyone but Harry how confused and hurt he was by his best friend’s behaviour. “We need to talk to you.”

The curly-haired boy turned with his hand nearly to the doorknob, pausing mid-stride to turn and face them with dull expectance. His eyes were slightly more shadowed than usual, and he barely even seemed curious about what they were going to say. “Yeah?”

Zayn stepped forward, expression set in determination. “Look, mate, you’ve got to stop what you’re doing. It’s not fair to Lou, and frankly we’re getting really sick of your attitude, so just come out and tell us what’s going on already.”

“Whatever’s got you feeling this way,” Niall added, “you can tell us. Just let us know and we’ll help you out best we can. Tell us what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bother-” Harry began to say, but he was cut off immediately.

“Don’t even try that,” Liam warned, not unkindly. While he may not have looked completely happy with Harry at that moment in time, there was still concern in his warm brown eyes for his friend, no matter how rude he was being. “We can all tell that something’s been off with you, and it’s got something to do with Louis.”

Harry sighed wearily.

“Come on, man, just tell us,” Niall entreated. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not worth what you’re doing now. You’re our friend, Harry, we don’t want to see you like this.”

Harry hesitated, completely unsure about what he was going to say – or if he even had anything to say. His emotions had been a complete mess for weeks and he wasn’t sure that he could put an explanation into words even if he tried. But as he tried to formulate some sort of way to put his feelings into words or even simply get out the easier sentence ‘I miss Louis so much it hurts’, all the others saw was his blank expression and all they heard was his silence.

Thinking that Harry was going to brush them off with another excuse, Zayn let out a small huff of air and shook his head. “You know what?” he said, his voice colder than it had been seconds ago. “I don’t even care. I don’t even want to know what’s been making you act like a jerk right now, but whatever it is, you have to stop punishing Louis for it.” His dark eyes sparked a little as he spoke.

Harry felt his mouth fall open in surprise. “Punishing Louis?” he repeated, dumbfounded. A humourless laugh fell from his lips, and he turned his head to the side as his eyes rolled up to the ceiling and back. “Punishing Louis, that’s great.”

Now Niall and Liam frowned, too, and Harry could see how utterly confused they all were. They couldn’t see that Louis had been the one punishing Harry, putting him in agony, and they were all gathering around the victim that had torn Harry apart. Louis had broken his heart and chosen someone else over him but he was the one being punished – it was so perfect, he thought bitterly. Harry was the one who had to feel like this, and Louis was the one being punished. Harry had to feel the loss of his – his –

For the life of him, Harry didn’t even know what to call Louis anymore. He could hardly still think of Lou as a friend, now that every painful beat of his heart reminded him of how just pathetically in love he was, yet nothing else seemed to fit. He could not think of him only as a band mate, either, for that implied that theirs was a professional relationship, and as much as he might have yearned for the opportunity to call Louis his lover, partner or even something so simple as his boyfriend, he was very acutely aware of the fact that he had no claim to those titles, either.

If there was a pleasantry left that would be appropriate for his situation, that he could use to refer to the person that was slowly destroying him with unrequited love, Harry did not know what it was.

“Yeah, punishing Louis,” Zayn continued, and Harry was startled by his voice. He had been so caught up his own thoughts that he’d forgotten they were still there talking to him. “Do you even know how bad he feels right now? I don’t even know how you can be so cold to him after what happened. I’d have thought you’d realised how much we all need him, but you just cut him down all the time!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry told him, agitated.

“I’m talking about acting like he’s something you scraped off your shoe. I’m talking about brushing him off and pushing past like he’s not there. I’m talking about you going days without coming home, and not giving any explanation as to why you won’t tell him what’s going on. I’m talking about you going two weeks without answering him when he’s talking directly to you, when he doesn’t know what the hell he’s done to make you so angry with him!”

Liam laid a calming hand on Zayn’s shoulder when the other boy’s voice began to rise, and Zayn paused for a second before settling down with a quick glance to Liam’s face.

“Did he say something to you?” Niall asked in the small silence that followed. His eyes were so earnest, his voice honestly bewildered. “Did Louis do something to make you mad, did he piss you off about the accident? What is it? He won’t tell us, either; neither of you will say anything about what happened.”

Because he didn’t know anything about it, Harry thought, and that was how it would stay.

“Harry, we’re here for you,” Liam said again, trying to hold the younger boy’s gaze. “We’re your friends, remember? We care about you. We just want to make things alright again; you just have to stop pushing us away.” He dared to reach out to hold Harry’s shoulder as well, pulling them into a loose semi-circle with the four of them. The gap in the circle was too glaringly obvious though, and Louis’ absence made the intervention all the more plain.

All of a sudden, Harry felt suffocated. His neck flushed hot and his breath hitched. His terror over Louis and all of the roiling emotions surrounding him rose to stick in Harry’s throat, choking him. His hands felt clammy at his sides.

“I’ve got to go,” he mumbled quickly, and whirled toward the exit.

Liam’s hand fell from his shoulder, but his words speared through Harry’s ears as he jerked the door out of the way. “You’re hurting him, Harry. I don’t know how or why, but you’re hurting him.”

Harry fled, leaving the door hanging open as he went. 

—

—

—

He had thought that was the low point. He had thought it couldn’t get worse, but the real clincher, the absolute worst memory to date, came very soon. In a fit of stupidity that rivalled every idiotic decision he had ever made, Harry somehow decided that it would be a good idea to throw a party in their house before he had to face Louis again, using faceless strangers as a shield against the truth he did not want to acknowledge. He called everyone before he even returned, giving them instructions on how to get in, so that when he finally made it to his own front door the building was flooded with alcohol, lights and a dance floor thick with moving bodies. He couldn’t make out a single person as he entered, and no one marked his presence there – just the way he wanted.

He found his way to the drinks easily enough, and again, his choice to literally drown his sorrows felt like a good one at the time. Soon, he was pleasantly unthinking and he found himself on the floor with a cup in hand and a pretty face in front of his as he danced to the loud beat. He was so warm and comfortable with the alcohol buzzing in his veins, and his vision was tilted. The lights sparkled in the corners of his eyes.

He had thought he was beyond hearing anything but the dubstep percussion blaring out of borrowed speakers, but when a terribly familiar voice sounded over the music he heard it as clearly as he would have if Louis were speaking into his ear.

“When did this start? Who called everyone over here?”

Harry span unsteadily, seeking the source of the voice before his mind could consciously process the words being spoken. He nearly dislodged the girl beside him as he whirled yet he could barely bring himself to care. Through the crowd of gyrating dancers, he caught a glimpse of Louis standing near the speakers, questioning the DJ Harry had not noticed until then.

A second later, the DJ had noticed him right back. The man pointed straight at Harry, directing his arm through the party and bringing him to Louis’ attention. Harry couldn’t hear what the man said, but he could guess.

“Harry did. It was his idea.”

Harry’s gut squirmed uncomfortably at first, but when Louis’ eyes slowly moved to find him, the feeling changed. A low jolt hit him like a physical blow. His blood leapt in his veins. His hands tightened around the plastic cup he held, threatening to bend it out of shape, and it was very likely that he spilled some of the liquid out as he let his hand fall to the side. Louis’ gaze became still and guarded as he met Harry’s, yet the younger boy barely noticed. He didn’t see how wary his housemate looked; only how unbelievably good he looked. His cheeks were pink from the cold outside, yet it only set off the tan of his skin.

In another show of bad judgement, Harry drained the drink in his hand and let the cup fall before making his way forward. It was only as he passed out of the thicket of people that he finally saw who was standing beside Louis. Eleanor was at his side, her hands clamped together as she looked around at the party raging around them. They both looked slightly out of place in the drunken soiree, but Harry thought that was something else that was off, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. He didn’t much care, because Louis was there.

He should have apologised to them both right then and there before turning the music off and announcing the party was over. He should have told Louis he was sorry for how he’d been acting and that he never meant to do anything that would hurt him, that the party was a stupid way to distract him for how much of a dick he was being and that he would never do it again. He should have said what was on his mind – but his alcohol-infused body had different ideas.

“Louis!” Harry watched his hands stretch out before him, fingers desperate and reaching. They settled around Louis’ loose collar, tugging at the material. Unlike Eleanor, Louis had already shed his outer coat in the warm apartment, but he had enough layers to make frustration burn in Harry’s stomach. He even had a beanie pulled low over his ears.

“Harry?” Louis returned cautiously. He didn’t move to respond to Harry’s actions, and his eyes were unreadable again as Harry stared into them. There were grey stones where there should have been sparkling blue gems, he thought disappointedly. He would just have to change that.

Harry pitched forward, shoving his mouth toward Louis’ ear and commanding, “Come and dance.” His lips stretched into a beaming smile.

Instantly, Louis’ frame stiffened beneath his hands. “No,” he replied, pulling away a little. He sounded weary and his voice was small. “No, Harry.”

“You never refuse a dance! Come on, just come and dance with me. Please, come with me. Come and dance… Come on…” His pleas became less coherent as his lips came closer and closer to touching Louis’ ear. He could see Eleanor over Louis’ shoulder, and he liked the unhappy look on her face. With one hand, he reached up to gently tug the soft hat from Louis’ head and flung it in her general direction. “Come and dance…”

Harry didn’t hear any vocal protests come out of Louis mouth, which he took as assent. He felt blindly for Louis’ hands before dragging him into the fray behind him, disappearing into the impossibly large crowd of dancers. He didn’t know half of the people around them anymore, but he didn’t even give a thought to them as Louis fit in beside him. Harry skin burned in need of contact, his veins surged and his blood boiled all for Louis.

He let the alcohol take over as began to dance again and despite whatever the boy must have been feeling – most likely sobriety and discomfort – Louis grudgingly moved to the beat as well. He was a more experienced partier than Harry was, and he seemed at home in the thumping beat. Even so, his eyes darted from Harry’s face and away again frequently, like he was waiting to escape. Harry didn’t like it.

“No,” Harry complained inaudibly. When Louis’ gaze moved away, Harry caught his head in his hands and pulled his face back to his own, catching Louis’ eyes and holding them. His thumbs stroked at unresponsive cheeks. “No.”

Louis blinked once, and Harry felt a strong surge of annoyance at how distant that gaze was. He didn’t want that. He wanted Louis to burn, like he was. He wanted him to forget he’d ever met Eleanor all over again, and he’d do it himself if he had to.

Harry’s mind fogged with intent and he lost any trace of rational thought he may have had.

Dropping his hands from Louis’ face to his arms, Harry coaxed Louis’ hands up over his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Louis shouted over the music, confused.

“Dancing,” Harry yelled back.

With that, Harry stepped forward into Louis’ personal space, closer than he had any right to be, and shifted so their legs tangled together a little. The heavy bass surged around them, and Harry let that pull his body forward to move Louis with him, swaying back and forth. He thought he could hear a tiny, weary sigh fall from Louis lips before he started to join in the dance, moving dutifully to the beat while still managing to seem completely unenthusiastic. It annoyed Harry to no end.

Louis went along with it, but by the time the first song began to wind down into the next, he was already drawing away and heading for the sidelines.

“No,” Harry called out, with a little more fervour than was necessary. His darkened eyes sent a truly acidic look as they met Eleanor’s out of the crowd before his hand shot out and seized Louis by the arm.

 The older boy turned at the touch, but his expression was still. His voice was clear as the song trailed to a stop. “No, Harry. I’m done. I don’t want to dance.”

“Louis…” Harry flapped after Louis’ hands while the other tried to evade his attempts to cling at him. “Please, just dance with me.”

The older boy turned away again, but Harry jerked on his arm once, pulling him straight back, so that Louis’ back collided with his chest. The beat had started up around them again, low and deep, and Harry could feel it vibrating through both their bodies. His hand caught at Louis’ waist in an effort to keep the other boy there and trap them together. His fingers toyed at the edge of Louis’ shirt as he pressed his palm flat against his side, bringing their bodies closer. The beat was strong in his veins as he shifted closer, and he found himself staring hard at what he could see of Louis’ face from beneath the curls falling into his eyes. He let their legs move together again, this time rubbing his thigh up against Louis’ as he moved to the music.

It was no longer a friendly dance; it was dirty and it was dangerous, especially with the witnesses around them. It was a dance that belonged out of the sight of young children – out of the sight of everyone – but Harry didn’t care. When Louis didn’t immediately shove him away, he let that fuel his daring and brought them closer.

All of Harry’s pent up anger rose in his veins like fire, and he poured it into Louis like he could bury it there. Heedless of their audience, he snaked both hands around Louis’ waist and jerked their hips together with a passion he had been ignoring for weeks. Their bodies collided hard, and Harry nearly brained himself on Louis’ shoulder. He heard a startled sound in his ear at the sudden contact, but didn’t even think about releasing the boy in his arms. He had felt helpless for weeks, and now he would make Louis feel the same if it took every single ounce of effort in his body.

A few eyes turned in their direction at the extremely compromising position, but Harry didn’t see them. He used what concentration he had left to focus on Louis. Fingers digging into the older boy’s hipbone, Harry used his leverage to grind against Louis, rolling their hips together and turning them back into the shadowed floor. He continued to pull Louis into him, pushing low and hard, but with his face pressed up against the nape other boy’s neck and his fingernails raking against the coarse fabric of Louis’ jeans, his senses were too full of him. He could feel his body begin to respond, feel his head swim. His plan had been to overwhelm the other boy but Harry had forgotten how easy it was to be overcome by him. Louis’ scent flooded his nose; his warmth seeped into his skin and shot straight through his blood, sharp and white-hot.

He might have been mistaken, but it seemed that Louis leant back into the embrace, that his head fit into the space of Harry’s shoulder deliberately as he pressed back. Their bodies seemed to mould together, and he could have sworn that Louis was no longer trying to pull away, that he was in fact bring Harry closer with a hand on the back of his neck and a feather-light touch against Harry’s skin. With his lips parted to breathe, Harry could practically taste the scent of Louis’ skin where it was pressed flushed against him, and it was enough to make his jeans tighten to an uncomfortable point. Fortunately, he was too drunk and too distracted to care about being so turned on, even too drunk to care that Louis would be able to feel it, fitted together as they were.

He was vaguely cognizant of the fact that Louis was turning in his grip, reversing their position so they were chest-to-chest, and he suddenly found that he was staring into the older boy’s devastating face. He felt familiar fingertips pushing through his curls to hold him closer, and abruptly he no longer cared about getting back at Louis for what he felt or trying to get him hot and bothered; he was only trying not to lose complete control of himself. Harry had missed him so much that his throat was closing up, his eyes stinging with tears that would ruin him.

His fingers buried themselves in Louis’ soft hair, clinging to his skull as Harry turned his face into Louis’ throat. They were still rocking together slightly in a slow, uneven parody of a dance. If there was still a party going on around them, Harry wasn’t aware of it. He could feel Louis’ hands touching his face, trying to pull his head back, but Harry pressed further into the curve of Louis neck to hide his features from view. His breath was coming in short, hoarse bursts against the other boy’s skin, and he couldn’t hear himself think. His blood was beating in his groin, his pulse wild. He knew that if he could only have a few seconds to breathe, he might have been able to regain control over himself, but the music blared on and Louis’ body was still there beneath his and he couldn’t think of anything else to do but close off any remaining distance between them.

With a hand at the back of Louis’ head and fingers digging into the nape of his neck, Harry drew his lips back to rest at the other boy’s jaw just as he shifted even closer, lining their bodies up completely. His pulse leapt at the friction between them, and a deep fire burned inside him. A ragged moan fell from his lips as stupid tears began to collect in Harry’s eyes. He didn’t mean to be crying, yet he was just so close to Louis and he was drunk and he had been so far away that it almost hurt to be this near to him again. He had been apart from him for so long that he’d forgotten how warm Louis felt and how right it felt to have his fingers stroking along Harry’s jaw, gentle and accepting. Harry squeezed his eyes shut against his tears and dragged his mouth along Louis’ cheek, helplessly seeking the kiss he knew he shouldn’t want.

The second he reached the curve of Louis’ bottom lip, the second his mouth actually fitted around Louis’, Harry was sure his heart stopped. Black spots burst on the inside of his eyelids, hot and dizzying to his senses, and he could feel his pulse racing so much that he must have been dying. He almost imagined that he could feel Louis kissing him back; he imagined that his lips were opening to Harry’s, that he was leaning into the embrace and trailing his fingers beneath the low collar of Harry’s shirt, and that was when Harry knew that he had to be dead, because he had never felt anything like this in life. Louis’ hand came to rest over the heart that he owned, and Harry felt sure that it was going to fall right into his waiting palm.

But one frightening moment later, the boy he adored was wrenched out of his arms. Louis’ absence was a physical shock, and Harry reeled with it, staggering on the dance floor and trying to recover.

Then, the music shut off, startlingly sudden. The abrupt silence was met with a few confused calls and a number of protests from the dancers. Harry pushed a shaky hand through his curls and looked up to see Louis standing at the speakers.

“The party’s over,” Louis announced, in a voice that brooked no argument. It was low and serious in a way that few had ever heard. “Please get out. Now.” Though he addressed everyone, his eyes bored straight through Harry’s skull. Somehow, he knew Louis didn’t mean for him to leave, too. His heart sank.

Harry didn’t dare move as people slowly filed out of the apartment, each collecting their things and stumbling through the door in varying states of drunkenness. A few people had to be dragged out by their friends or supported over the threshold and Harry wanted nothing more than to be the guy throwing up on himself, if it would only save him from his own fate. He would have even been the guy carrying that guy and have someone else’s vomit falling on his back. He would have been anyone else in the world, other than the lonely arsehole standing in the empty living room, scrubbing a stray tear from his cheek while he waited to be shouted at by the person he loved most.

He didn’t look up to see Eleanor leave, but by the time the apartment emptied she was nowhere to be seen. In an impossibly short space of time they were alone, and Harry had nowhere to hide from Louis’ stare. Several tense seconds passed before the older boy spoke.

“What the hell was that?” Louis demanded finally. Harry had his eyes glued to the carpet, willing his blood to cool. “What was all of that there?” He gestured unnecessarily to the now non-existent dance floor.

“It was nothing,” Harry mumbled uselessly. He ran his fingers along his forehead and wiped the extra moisture from around his eyes. “It was nothing, alright? Just forget it.”

Louis wouldn’t have it. “No, that wasn’t nothing. You can’t just… you can’t just treat me like a pariah for two weeks and then go and do that, Harry! You can’t fuck me around like that, like I’m something for you to toy with. I hate to break it you, but that’s not nothing! You haven’t even looked at me in days and do you know how that felt? I’ve needed you, Harry! I still need you! Did you even think of that? Do you know much that hurt, when I lo- I just don’t understand - What were you even – Did you –” He visibly stopped himself, took a breath, and then simply asked, “Why?”

It was his voice that broke Harry that most. In that one syllable, his tone wasn’t angry, upset or even really agitated; it was just bewildered. He sounded so lost that it cut straight through Harry’s dizzied state to pierce his heart. It humbled him instantly. Louis truly didn’t understand a single bit of why Harry was doing this to him, what he could have possibly done to make Harry act like this, and it became so clear in that instant how little he had deserved such treatment.

That, right there, in the moment that Louis stared at him with hurt swimming in his eyes and complete incomprehension in his face – that was his lowest moment. And not because he had hurt Louis or because he could fully see every inch of damage he had caused between them as he’d hacked at their relationship over the last few weeks, but because of the simple fact that even in the face of all the pain he’d caused he couldn’t bring himself to say a word.

He hit rock bottom with complete and utter silence.

Louis waited a full twenty seconds before he spoke again, rocking back on his heels with a heavy sigh. Harry could almost see the light dimming in his eyes before that weary gaze was turned on him.

“What have I done, Harry?” Louis asked then, sounding utterly defeated. He was at the end of his rope; it was written all over his face. “Did I push you too hard, after I got my memory back, after everything? Did I cling too much? Was I too much of a burden once we got back? Did I just not say thank you enough for what you did for me, did I take you for granted? Just tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it for you. I’ll do anything you want me to, just say the word.”

He paused, but again, Harry could not speak.

Louis scrubbed both hands over his face in frustration before tugging at the strands of his hair. “Is it Eleanor?” he burst out. Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I know there was something wrong between you, like something happened whenever I wasn’t looking. Every time I turned back you looked different. Do you not like her anymore? Because I swear to God, Harry, I will go out there and I will break it off with her once and for all if that’s what you want. Is that what it is? Are you trying to get rid of her is that…” A sudden uncertainty clouded his eyes as he glanced back to the absent dance floor, where they had been standing only minutes before. An inexplicable hurt crossed his face, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. “…if that’s all that was before, just tell me. Is that what you want?” His expression pleaded with Harry, who could feel his eyes stinging again. Louis looked so completely at a loss as he continued. “I have been trying with her, I have, but I will end it all in a heartbeat if you just say the word. Just say something, Harry, ‘cause I… I don’t know what to do anymore. I just don’t. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, I don’t know what I’ve done to make you so angry with me and I don’t know how to make it right – I don’t know how to make us right again! It feels like you’re just trying to put me down for something, but I really don’t know why so just tell me what I’ve done! Please, just… talk to me. Please, Harry, tell me what I did wrong!”

His desperate plea was enough to jar Harry out of his silence. “You haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Then, why?” Louis asked. He exhaled with the word like it was rent straight from his lungs, torn from his chest. “Why are you doing this to me?” His cheeks were pale now, his words drained of all emotion. He just sounded tired and flat. “Just… tell me. Do you want me to break up with Eleanor?” A beat passed before he continued. “Do you want me?” Harry’s breath caught, his eyes stung. “Or do you want me gone? Do you want me to move out? Do you want me to leave the band? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll lose your number and you’ll never have to see me again, so long as that’s what you want.” His expression was perfectly still and unmoving but when he blinked, two tears rolled down his cheeks.

A wave of nausea made Harry’s stomach roll sickly, and a shuddering gasp rocked his frame at the mere thought of it. “No!” he gasped, horrified. “How could you even say that? How could you even… no! God,” he murmured, and buried his face in his hands. He was crying now, too. “I’ve screwed this all up. I’ve screwed everything up. I never wanted this to happen.”

“Then what did you want?”

Harry lifted his tear-stained eyes to look him in the face, and swallowed hard. “I wanted you,” he breathed. “I just wanted you. I… I still want you.”

Louis went very still across from him, his face frozen in a mask of helpless bewilderment as the words continued spilling from Harry’s mouth. Harry hadn’t realised how much he had kept locked inside until now, and it all came out in a rush and he confessed every single thing.

“You died, Louis,” he choked, his voice cracking. “You fell in front of my eyes and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I had your blood on my hands and on my face and I watched them drive away with you like you were already dead and then I sat at your bedside for days and nights on end, waiting for you to open your eyes. I had no idea if you’d even live. I held your hand and I stared at your face until I didn’t recognise it anymore because I couldn’t find you in there anymore… and it was - the most terrifying thing… I’ve ever felt.” Harry had to pause to get his voice under control, and he wiped the water from his cheeks again. His smile was wobbly as he said, “But then you were okay again. You woke up and you were Louis again, but we were different. I know we were different. I felt… I felt special then, knowing how much you needed me, and I don’t even care how bad that sounds. For once, you needed me as much as I’ve needed you and I loved that. I loved being there for you, being helpful and I knowing that I could take care of you better than anyone else could. Even when you were better, I wanted to be the one to take care of you.

“We were so close for a while then, you know? Closer than we’d been before, even when I thought I couldn’t care more than I already did. No one’s ever meant so much to me… not family, not friends. And then Doncaster happened, and that night at the studio happened and I knew. I knew I wanted to stay that close…”

 Harry squeezed his eyes shut, cutting himself off in the lie. He could barely force the truth out past his unwilling lips, but the night was swirling around him and it was too late to say anything but the utmost truth.

“No,” he said raggedly, “I wanted to be closer than that.” His voice was barely recognisable as his own; it was so roughened with emotion and suppressed tears. “Look - I know you, I know how you are, and I know that it doesn’t mean the same to you as it does to me, but when you’d kiss me, or touch my hand, I’d just… I know it’s all in fun and playfulness, I know, but I guess… it’s just not for me. I wish I could say that I didn’t feel anything, but I do. I can’t just cut myself off from that; I felt it all. Every little thing you did or said to me felt… it felt like I’d finally found was I’d been missing all this time. It felt like how it was meant to be between us, like we could stay like that forever and I wouldn’t even care about the rest of the world.

“Then… Eleanor came back, and I sort of just… I just assumed that it was all broken. I thought that once you remembered her you would forget about us – about me. I thought that it was all over, and it felt like you were just pushing me aside now that it was done. I thought I didn’t matter to you anymore and… it killed me.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “And that’s why I’ve been treating you like shit, and why I did this to our house and why I’m standing here delivering a stupid speech when all I really want to tell you –” Harry had to stop again for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose against the tears welling in his eyes. When he lifted his head, his lips were trembling with the effort of keeping his expression under control. “- is that I – I think I’m in love with you.”

He looked up to find Louis staring at him mutely, his hand pressed against his mouth while tears slowly slid over his fingers before dripping to the floor. The other boy seemed unable to speak, just as Harry hadn’t been able to earlier.

Exhausted by emotion, Harry gave a little jerk of his shoulder in a shrug. “So that’s it,” he said, and he could no longer keep the sob out of his voice. “That’s all I’ve got left to give you. It hurts and it doesn’t make any sense, I can’t seem to ignore it no matter what the hell I’ve tried to do, but I can give it to you. I love you – that’s it. It’s yours.”

Louis was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he uttered a muffled curse against his palm and dropped his hand. “Harry,” was all he said, and then he strode forward, hands reaching forward and cradling Harry’s cheeks in an irrepressible grip. His lips slammed down onto Harry’s in something too violent to be a kiss, hard enough to leave a bruise, before he pulled away again an instant later. He pressed gentler kisses all over the younger boy’s skin, brushing his lips along Harry’s mouth and down his jaw until he made it to his ear. Harry’s head swam with the heady sensation of it, and his eyes rolled back into his unresponsive skull as he leaned each touch. Louis slipped his arms around Harry’s neck, hands sliding up into his hair, and he nuzzled his face into the crook of his shoulder to whisper, “I love you.”

It felt like Harry’s ribs were cracking as his heart contracted painfully in his chest. “No, you don’t,” he croaked pitifully, gasping for air as he swayed in the older boy’s grip.

Louis’ breath was laboured and uneven. “I’ve always loved you. Every second of every fucking day…” Louis’ fingers carded through his curls, and he hugged Harry’s shock-still body, enfolding him in an embrace that brought their heads together and shielded them both from the rest of the world. “I love you,” Louis murmured again, over and over, until warm tears were tracking down both their faces.

Eventually, Harry regained some semblance of control over his body and he stroked his numb fingers along Louis’ face in disbelief, tracing the features that were so dear to him. Their foreheads pressed together as they had so many times, tears mingling together before they dripped off of their chins. Their lips met a few times, but there was little heat behind the action; the effort of the confession and the incredibly potent happiness pounding through their veins was too strong for them to keep still for too long. When Louis let his mouth linger over Harry’s, kissing him so softly it made his lips tingle anew, Harry could feel fresh tears on his cheeks and had to pull away again because the sensation was too much. He could barely keep his thoughts in check, unable to do anything but cling to Louis’ strong body as he felt loving hands run across his shoulders, over his neck, across his cheeks. The emotion he felt was so forceful it felt like he should punch through a wall or tear his hair out of his head to help relieve the unbearable pressure of it inside his chest, but he could do nothing except hold Louis close and let his voice wash over him again and again.

Louis did not let him go for a single instant, not even when Harry’s legs finally gave out, his alcohol-weakened body buckling beneath him. 

—

—

—

Harry awoke to the familiar feeling of fingers trailing through his hair. His mind was still fuzzy with sleep and his stomach felt a tiny bit unsteady within him, but he turned into the touch without thinking.

A voice sounded near his ear. “Wake up, Harry.” The whisper was a balm to his frazzled state, like cool water pouring over his skin, and so despite his desire to dive back into his very pleasant dream, Harry dragged one eyelid up. Louis was sitting beside him, annoyingly perfect and well-dressed.

“Morning,” Harry mumbled into the pillow. At his ragged groan, Louis’ lips bent into a small smile and it was that smile that did it. In the space that it took Harry’s heart to stutter, for him to sink back into hopeless love with Louis and for him to wonder why he even bothered to try and suppress his feelings, Harry suddenly remembered that he hadn’t suppressed his feelings and the events of last night flooded fresh into his mind, pouring adrenaline over his sleepy brain. His head shot up and his eyes popped wide open.

Louis let out a startled laugh at Harry’s reaction, and quickly shifted back so he wouldn’t spill the cup of tea held in his hand. “Wow. I s’pose you’re awake, then,” he chuckled.

Harry’s heart was beating fast in terror and he froze, fearing that everything would be taken back in the cold light of morning. He could still hear Louis telling him that he loved him – he had a feeling it would echo in his ears for a long, long time – but that didn’t mean that it could ever be said again, and if Harry thought about that too much he thought he might just break in half.

“Yeah,” he replied belatedly, watching the older boy with what was almost wariness. “I’m awake.”

Louis seemed to notice Harry’s sudden apprehension, and he soothed it with another reassuring smile and a routine stroke of his curls. His thumb caressed a line from his temple to his jaw. “Calm down,” he told him serenely, raising an eyebrow pointedly. Cautiously, Harry lowered himself back on the pillows. “How much do you remember?”

Harry was a little scared to answer. “I remember… making you dance with me,” he hedged slyly. “And then you kicked everyone out and we… ehm, talked. I told you why I’d been such a prick lately… and then… I told you that I loved you.” The glint in Louis’ eyes made him feel bolder, so he added slowly, “A-a-nd… you said that you loved me, as well.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I distinctly remember that happening. I may have got quite weepy, as well, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“You did cry a bit in the end, yeah,” Louis agreed, nodding. “But then again, so did I.”

The younger lad’s eyes flickered nervously before he dared to ask, “And this morning?”

“Well, we’ve stopped crying now, obviously.”

Despite himself, Harry let out a short, breathy laugh at that. “No,” he said, forcing himself into seriousness again. “I mean what happens now. Where do we stand now?” He tried not to let it show how much his insides were squirming with nerves, or how much that seemingly nonchalant question meant to him. “I know that things were said in the heat of the moment, and I know how that can be sometimes. I just… I need to know how things are gonna be now, okay?”

Louis held his entreating gaze for several long seconds, his stare so intense and emotional that it felt like an eternity passed before his eyes flickered down to the porcelain mug in his hands before flitting up to Harry’s face. There was a brief pause that made Harry’s heart go still, but then the older boy gave a half-shrug as if to say ‘if you’re game, I’m game’.

“The things I said last night are still true this morning,” he said bluntly. His blue eyes were startlingly clear and honest. “I meant every word, and that still stands now.” His voice softened a little as he said, “I still love you. One drunken night isn’t going to change that anytime soon.”

Though the words were unbelievably simple, they meant more to Harry than he could ever describe. He didn’t shy away from Louis’ gaze as he might have once, and his fingers found the other boy’s on top of the covers, squeezing them gently. “I love you, too.” It was stupid how wonderful it felt to say that, and his heart contracted with each syllable in a way that was utterly painless.

Then, Louis whacked him across the chest in a way that was distinctly not painless. “You could have said that a little bit sooner, you know,” he accused him, though his eyes were twinkling with mirth. “Do you know how much time I spent pining after you? It’s humiliating. And I was throwing myself at you; I was practically gagging for it every time I saw you. Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

Harry could have brought up the fact that he had a girlfriend or any other of the myriad reasons he had for keeping his mouth shut, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled and caught at Louis’ hands again instead, tangling their fingers together. “I’m very sorry,” he apologised contritely.

At first Louis smiled at that, but then that grin gave way to a small, guilty grimace that Harry wanted to steal away from his lips. “I’m sorry I shouted at you last night,” Louis murmured suddenly, cringing slightly at the memory. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I deserved it,” Harry admitted easily.

Louis sighed. “No, you didn’t.”

With a quiet sigh, Harry propped himself up on his elbows so that he could look directly into Louis’ eyes. “Yes, I did,” he said more firmly, and the smile that bent his lips was only slightly embarrassed. “I’ve been horrible to you, Lou. You should’ve been harsher.”

“I swore at you.”

“You always swear at me! You swear at everyone.”

“Shut the fuck up, Harry, I’m trying to apologise here,” he sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes upward. Harry’s mouth fell open in mock outrage, and though Louis took a breath as if he were about to continue, he burst out laughing before he could get a single word out. His eyes crinkled very slightly in the corners, and he pulled his hand from Harry’s grasp to press it against his laughing mouth.

It was almost surreal how much Harry loved the smiling boy sitting above him. For a short time, he was just content to sit there and stare at that beautiful face above him, but as his breath caught in his throat and his pulse gave a pitiful little lurch, he wanted a little something more.

Louis must have read the intent in his expression, because he blinked slowly and then shifted to set his cup on the nightstand. His hand entwined with Harry’s once more as he lowered his head toward him, hesitating only a moment over his lips before closing the distance. Louis tasted a little like tea and sweetness, but mostly Harry breathed in the indescribable scent that was all him. He could only imagine how bad his morning breath must have been, but Louis didn’t seem to mind. It was a sweet, simple kiss; their lips moved softly and slowly together, and Harry reached up to cradle Louis’ cheek in his palm. It was innocent and perfect, and despite the fact that they had locked lips a few times over the past year in not-quite jest, and there was that one indulgence that Louis still knew nothing about and even whatever exploits Harry knew he would have pulled last night, Harry decided to call this one their first kiss. With the morning sun spilling in through the window and their fingers tightly entwined together, it seemed like there was no other way it should have possibly happened. Everything was easy and natural in that moment and Harry had never felt so swathed with warmth and love as he did with Louis’ mouth meeting with his own and his fringe tickling Harry’s skin.

When they eventually parted and Harry fell gently back against the pillows, he stared up at Louis’ face, recalling when Louis had been in the hospital bed and their positions had been reversed. “Your jawline is really stellar from this angle,” he said aloud, remembering Louis’ long-ago medicated words, and the other boy let out a joyous chuckle at that, throwing his head back briefly and sighing. Still caught in the memory, Harry watched his fingers reach up to Louis’ face as Louis had done to him, and he traced the older boy’s features with gentle reverence. His fingers skimmed over his cheekbones and down his jaw, touching his lips softly and brushing his fingertips along the tops of Louis’ closed eyelids. They shared a smile as Harry let his hand fall.

“So, what else do you remember from last night?” Louis asked curiously, once the sentimental moment had passed. He tucked his legs up beneath him on the bed and took his tea in hand once more. “Besides our heartfelt confessions and weeping, of course.”

Harry settled in more comfortably as well, slipping his free arm beneath his head. “Hmm… I think I remember getting in the shower together, which wasn’t as sexy as I might have imagined it would be.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be, with both of our clothes still on and you trying to brush your teeth at the same time.”

Harry had to bite down on his smile; he was just too amused by everything at the moment, like he was constantly on the edge of laughter. At least he knew had had brushed his teeth, then. Nonetheless, he continued like Louis hadn’t spoken. “I also remember sitting naked on the couch at some point… and then I think I might have fought my way into some new clothes after that.” He peeked beneath the covers as he spoke, and quickly discovered that he was wrong. He was clad only in his boxers again. “Huh,” he said. He paused, considering a new possibility that he couldn’t believe hadn’t occurred to him. He felt a strange little tremor at the thought of it. Looking up at Louis from beneath his lashes, he asked, “Did we…?”

A mischievous glint passed through Louis’ eyes before he covered it up, adopting an innocent, hurt expression. “Are you telling me you don’t remember our wild, torrid night of passion, Harry? I can’t believe you’d forget that!”

Harry’s lips broke into a grin, and he shook his head in disbelief. “Nothing happened, did it,” he said, not quite a question.

Amusement danced in Louis’ sparkling eyes as he, too, shook his head. “Sadly, no.” He would not take those words too seriously, Harry told himself sternly, as his mind spun out of control at the wistful tone in Louis’ voice. He would not take those words too seriously. He would not take them as a challenge. “You did try and put your tongue down my throat, though,” Louis commented nonchalantly, canting his head. “And you gave me this.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling the material down to reveal the angry purple bruise on his collarbone, which was clearly outlined by teeth marks – Harry’s teeth marks, he realised proudly. Louis let his shirt spring back into place. “That was when I was trying to towel you off, I think. You may have gotten a bit carried away a couple of times.”

Harry was too pleased with his handiwork to be embarrassed. He couldn’t keep the smug grin off of his face as he said, “Sorry.”

Louis wasn’t convinced. “No, you’re not,” he replied with a lopsided smile.

“No, I’m not,” Harry agreed easily.

Unbelievably, a bit of pink might have actually touched Louis’ face at that but it was gone too quickly for Harry to be sure. With the hickey marking his neck and the blush fading from his cheeks, it was a wonder Harry was able to stop himself from dragging Louis onto the bed with him that instant.

“But, no,” Louis said, getting back on topic, “I think your clothes are still somewhere in there under the covers. You probably pushed ‘em off sometime during the night.” Experimentally, he patted the foot of Harry’s bed as if searching for lumps of clothing.

The grin hadn’t slipped from Harry’s lips, and his eyes shone like emeralds. “Is that so?”

Louis noticed the look on his face. “Yes,” he said, widening his eyes a little in a show of innocence. A smile was pulling at his mouth as he spoke.

“Mhmm?” Harry propped himself up on one elbow so their heads were closer, and he looked straight into Louis’ irresistible eyes. “Maybe you should help me look, then?” Emboldened, he stretched up to kiss Louis’ lips firmly before pulling back a fraction. “With two hands…” He kissed him again. “…I bet we could find them…” He did it again, lingering for longer and tugging a little on Louis’ lips as he pulled back. “… a lot quicker,” he finished. His words were casual, but his mind was still reeling in the wake of even those tiny touches. He had been aching for Louis for so long, wanting everything that he now had, and yet it felt so easy. It was so easy to love him.

Louis was perhaps not as affected by his skills of seduction as he might have hoped, because he replied with, “Two hands, Harry? Really?” His voice was that of a stern teacher as he locked his fingers with Harry’s before lifting them up as evidence, twisting them in the light. “How many hands are there?” he asked teasingly. “Harry, would you care to count how many hands are there for me?”

“It’s two,” Harry mumbled through twisted lips. “I only see two.”

“And they say that –”

Harry never found out what they say, because he used his hold on Louis’ fingers to tug the other boy’s mouth down onto his and kept it there. Louis’ laugh fell between their lips, alive and happy, and Harry could almost taste the lovely sound as their mouths melded together. He swept his tongue lightly against Louis’ bottom lip, and he parted them eagerly, inviting Harry in without hesitancy. Louis’ tongue tangled with his playfully, dancing this way and that and sucking gently in a way that was made Harry far too easily excited for such an early morning.

He pulled Louis down onto the mattress beside him, rolling slightly so that he was half-pinned on his side with Harry’s leg tossed over his waist. Their interlaced hands broke free, and Louis immediately buried his fingers in Harry’s hair to bring him closer, hitching up a little. Harry let his hands drift to Louis’ hips, and when the older teen lifted up slightly to hover over Harry’s side, he wrapped a cheeky arm around Louis’ waist and pulled them back together. He hugged Louis tight, pulling his slim body on top of Harry’s own without breaking away.

With his hands trapped under Harry’s head, Louis used their position to deepen the kiss a little more, finding a new angle in which to move their mouths and delving his tongue just a little bit further. A jolt of electricity went straight through Harry’s veins and buried itself in the pit of his stomach, warming him from the inside out. A tiny groan was elicited from his throat as Louis rode higher up, hovering directly above him and pushing his mouth straight down into Harry’s, but he barely even cared how desperate he sounded as he dug his fingers hungrily into Louis’ heated skin.

“Wait, wait,” Louis murmured suddenly, talking around Harry’s lips. Even as he spoke, he dipped down again and kissed him again, biting at Harry’s lower lip before he smoothed it over with the tip of his tongue. His tone was grudging and unwilling as he said, “I can’t stay. I have to go… there’s somewhere I’m meant to be right now.”

Harry shook his head, and his body shivered as desire bled through his innocent, happy daze. “No,” he protested playfully, in a whisper that brushed soft wisps of air across Louis’ reddened lips. “This is where you’re meant to be right now.”

It seemed he could think of no rebuttal to the claim, and soon Harry slipped a hand behind Louis’ neck and rolled them again until he had pinned the older boy beneath his body, legs slipped between one another as he balanced there.

Their mouths separated once more, and a breathless little giggle broke out of Louis’ lips. He pushed his fingers through the curls hanging around Harry’s face, combing them far back out of the way before bringing their mouths back together. Harry openly revelled in having Louis trapped underneath him, enjoying all the little perks of being above him. It took so very little effort for him to slip his hand beneath Louis shirt as he kissed him again, this time pulling out all the tricks he could to keep the other boy there.

Harry’s fingers were warm as they trailed over the skin of Louis’ stomach, but left goose flesh in their wake nonetheless. At the same time, he sucked Louis’ tongue into his mouth, twisting their lips and moving his mouth so that Louis’ head rose off the pillow a bit, a low hum in his throat. Their chests rose and fell as quickly as their hearts were pumping, hard and fast, and soon enough, somewhere between Louis gripping Harry’s neck and running his hands down the bumps of his spine, they had to break for air again. Louis deft fingers teased the skin beneath Harry’s waistband, and the slightest pressure had him falling forward to bring their bodies flush together. The older boy answered Harry’s surprised grin with a sultry smile and a fluttering of his long eyelashes.

“Cheeky,” Harry murmured, and begun burying kisses into Louis’ neck.

They shifted again, so that they were both lying a little on their sides with their limbs tangled together comfortably. Harry’s mouth kept travelling along the column of Louis’ throat, becoming more forceful each time.

“Harry,” Louis complained in a half-hearted whine, as the younger boy’s lips sealed over his skin, “haven’t you marked me enough for one day? People’ll notice as it is.”

Harry grunted a negative against Louis’ skin and continued to suck gently on his neck, drawing and tugging at the sensitive skin. His curls tickled Louis’ shoulders as he shook his head for good measure, making the older boy wriggle a little and lean back against the mattress.

“It’s not enough,” Harry finally mumbled, sounding both incredibly pleased with himself and incredibly contented at the same time. He pressed a few short kisses down Louis’ neck and across his biceps before easing the hem of his shirt up and tasting the skin along his ribs and torso, as well. “It’s not nearly enough.” He picked a spot at the top of Louis’ abs, kissing his flesh fondly before caressing the spot with his tongue and beginning on another bruise.

Louis’ rolled his eyes, but consented to lay back beneath the treatment as another hickey appeared on his stomach, and even when another blossomed on his sternum.

“No low cut shirts for you,” Harry told him once he’d finished, sitting his chin on Louis’ chest to smile innocently into the other boy’s face. One arm draped over his torso, fingers resting somewhere on Louis’ bicep, and in turn, Louis had his arms loosely around Harry as he looked down into his eyes, toying with the ends of his curls. Harry beamed unrepentantly, in a way that completely refused any sort of displeasure, and Louis huffed out a melodramatic sigh.

“There goes my plan to wear a bright orange mankini to the next photo-shoot,” he said, throwing a hand up in mock-frustration before letting it fall lightly against Harry’s bare skin. “And here I thought I was going to finally look sophisticated at one of these events. Guess I was wrong.”

Harry shrugged. “Too bad. You can still try it around the house, if you want. I won’t take pictures.”

“Yeah, you will,” Louis snorted. “And post them on the twitter, too.”

If Harry could have made himself deny the claim, he would have. As it was, he settled with another shrug and an irresistible, you-love-me grin. Louis just laughed at him.

Then, his brunette head tipped to the side as he reached his arm out to pick up Harry’s discarded mobile to check the time. Harry instantly knew it was a bad idea, especially when Louis let out a quiet groan and let his head flop back against the pillows.

“Whatever it is,” Harry told him, “don’t go.” He kissed Louis’ chest affectionately through his shirt, which was far more persuasive than it should have been. Louis glanced down at the younger boy’s face, so earnest and relaxed and full of love, and he truly had no desire to move – now or ever. He could have stayed there for days, only getting out of bed when they absolutely needed to, and he couldn’t think of a single thing he would rather have been doing. The realisation distracted him for a split second, and Louis smiled softly before touching Harry’s cheek. The skin was smooth beneath his fingers, slightly warm, and it was perfect. Everything about Harry seemed perfect to Louis, and he would waste no time in telling him just that whenever he had the chance.

The boy in question just blinked those big green eyes at him, and helpfully reached up to push Louis’ fringe out of his vision for him.

Louis snapped out of his dazzled trance, and glanced over at the phone. “I’ve really got to go, love,” he told Harry, and then planted a swift kiss on the boy’s forehead. Harry shifted out of the way as Louis got up, but then just rolled back onto the mattress more comfortably to watch Louis moving around. The older boy had to straighten his clothes again, tugging his shirt down over his mysteriously exposed midriff – much to Harry’s disappointment – and smoothing out the few wrinkles. His hair already looked messy by design, so he simply flattened the worst of the damage Harry had done and left it at that.

Noticing both Harry’s approving gaze and the slight pout to his lips, Louis laughed and winked. “Don’t worry; I’ll be back,” he promised playfully.

He came over to Harry’s side again before he left, resting his hand on Harry’s bare chest as he leant down to kiss him for a few, too-brief seconds. Their lips toyed lightly with one another and then he pulled back again.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked.

“I’ve got something to do,” Louis hedged, but at Harry’s raised eyebrow, added, “I’ll tell you more when I get back, alright?”

Harry was too happy to be upset about anything at that point, so he shrugged and smiled his acceptance before giving Louis a light push toward the exit. Laughing as he went, Louis was almost out of the door before he stopped on the threshold. He lingered there for a few seconds before he looked back and, with a radiant smile, said, “I love you.” Then he ducked around the corner before Harry could get a word out, teeth flashing as he vanished. 

Feeling as though his insides had just imploded, Harry buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes in disbelief. He had been holding in his rapture until that moment, but now it was too hard to restrain himself. Louis loved him, he loved Louis, and it felt so unbelievably lovely that he thought his heart might just stop. Everything was so simple, effortless, wonderful and good… He could feel his cheeks stretching with an impossibly wide smile.

“And for the love of God, put some trousers on before you go downstairs.”

Harry jumped in surprise and quickly looked up but by that time Louis was gone again, leaving only his cheeky voice echoing behind him. He gave up then; he turned and pressed his stupid, love-struck grin into the pillows where no one would ever find it. He knew he had to resign himself to the fact that he was completely, utterly and hopelessly in love with someone who thrived on making him uncomfortable but, thinking on the bruises that now littered Louis’ skin and the wonderful smell that clung to the pillows, he thought it was an acceptable compromise.

—

When Harry finally ventured downstairs he discovered the reason behind Louis’ last instruction. To his surprise, the rest of his band mates were hovering in the kitchen in varyingly dishevelled states, eating breakfast and sipping on borrowed cups of tea. He liked to think he didn’t show any traces of his and Louis’ activities earlier – at least not after sleep, a cold shower and with the advised trousers covering everything – but he felt suspicious the second the lads’ faces all sprang into identical, wide grins.

“Mornin’ Harry,” Zayn greeted him cheerily, pushing a plate of eggs in his direction. Harry sat at the bar stool carefully, eying them all in turn. While it was true that Louis was the one who usually had trouble getting up in the morning, none of them were this cheerful and bright-sunshiny-happy this early in the day.

“Did you sleep well?” Liam asked innocently.

Harry was about to answer ‘yes’, but then noticed for the first time that their flat was completely spotless. His memory was still slightly fuzzy about the details, but he knew that the house should not have looked so neat and orderly after the state it had been in last night. There should have been half-empty bottles and stains in the carpet at the very least.

“Did you guys clean all this?” he asked, eyes widening.

“Of course,” Zayn lied. “We got in here at four in the morning and decided to do all your cleaning for you. We steamed it and everything.”

“I cleaned the bathrooms myself,” Niall put in with a straight face. “You owe me, because that was messy.”

“Although, you look happy as Larry this morning,” Zayn commented, and then bit his lower lip to hide a smile.

Harry blinked, and then his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Liam, ever the honest boy, shook his head bemusedly at the others before informing Harry of the truth. “We called some cleaners in last night after everyone left. Thought it was best, really, once I saw it myself. It seems you gave Louis a run for his money last night.” It might have been an observation about his partying skills, but his tone gave the words new meaning. He managed to keep a straight face until the last sentence, and then Liam had to fold his lips, laughter creeping into his voice. He buried his face in his tea.

“Yeah, but Louis normally finds a club,” Niall pointed out. His bright blue eyes were shining with mirth. “Yours was a little close to home, wasn’t it? Keepin’ it personal? Private? You did only bring Louis back here, in the end.”

Zayn shook his head, turning to address the Irish boy. “No, Louis was already here. He already came. He came for Harry,” he said, with a truly wicked look in his eye. A choked little snort came out of Niall’s mouth before he turned away and busied himself with getting more food.

“Guys,” Liam sighed, “give him a break.” Harry almost thanked his friend for being the one that had some sort of tact, but then Liam added, “He’s probably very tired after last night.” He couldn’t have looked less serious if he’d tried. His cheeks were stretched in a wide grin.

“Right,” Zayn grinned. “Sorry, Harry. Didn’t mean to… jerk you around or anything.”

“It must have been really hard on you.”

“You look a bit out of it, Harry. Is your focus going… in-and-out?”

“Are you sure he can grasp what we’re saying?” Liam made the hand-gestures and everything, squeezing with both hands. “I’m not sure the meaning’s really penetrating at the moment.”

“We should probably ease him into it,” Niall said, nodding.

Zayn shook his head sadly. “I guess some people are just quicker than others. It’ll come to him soon enough.”

“No more big, long words to get him all jammed up, eh?”

“Go on, get stuck in,” Liam said, gesturing to the untouched breakfast in front of him.

Harry just groaned, “Oh, God” and leant his head down onto his arms, hiding his face from view. All that was visible was his curly head, swaying from side to side as he shook it in abject humiliation.

Niall laughed again, picking at his plate. “Ah, don’t worry,” he snickered. “I bet Louis’ll… have your back, right? You’re always on each other’s sides together. He’ll probably help with your front, too.” Niall’s cheeks were reddening from the effort of getting the jokes out without cracking up and Zayn turned his face into his shoulder, trembling with laughter.

Liam, who had been trying to drink his tea, burst out with, “Hey, I’m trying to swallow over here!”

It was the last straw; they all burst into uncontrollable laughter, cackling until they were desperately clinging to the counter with tears streaming down their face. Harry’s face flushed a dark red, only making them laugh harder.

“Nothing happened!” he repeated, waving his hands, but it had no effect.

They laughed until long after they probably should have stopped, until Harry had just resigned himself to wait it out. The curly-haired lad even let out a few laughs in spite of himself, unable to refuse the extreme hilarity that the others were feeling.

“I’m trying to swallow over here?” Niall demanded in a choked voice, once they had begun to get their laughter under control. He looked over at Liam, who was wiping his eyes.

“That last one wasn’t actually intentional,” he managed weakly, but the others just shook their head.

“Nothing happened, I swear,” Harry said again, cheeks still slightly pink. He still grinned as he said it; his stoic expression had long since broken.

The others patted his shoulders a few times and ruffled his hair.

“’Course not,” Zayn said easily, clearing his throat a couple of times until his voice lost its roughened edges. “Lou told us already. He wouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that, anyway.”

Harry cringed. “How much did you see?”

“Me? I didn’t see anything.”

“I did,” Niall piped up enthusiastically. His smile was too wide and too smug for Harry to hope that it wasn’t that bad. “I came in toward the end–” They all took a moment to snigger immaturely at the phrasing. “- and I was here just in time to see the full… show.”

“Oh, yeah, I caught the final moments of that,” Liam added. “And I think you did, too, Zayn.”

The dark-haired boy shrugged a little. “Maybe a few seconds. Mostly it was just a recount though.” He turned his eyes on Harry as he said, “Apparently you got into a bit of a dance with Louis. Feeling the beat, yeah?” As he spoke, he gripped the edge of the counter and mimed grinding against it a little, in what Harry could tell was a frighteningly accurate recount of what he’d done last night. Zayn started giggling again as he pulled back, smothering the laughter in his hands.

“Mhmm,” Niall agreed, nodding thoughtfully at the re-enactment. “Actually, that’s really good. Just like that. Oh, you slutted it all up, Haz. I was almost impressed, to be perfectly honest. Slightly rape-y though,” he tacked on as an afterthought, with a one-shouldered shrug.

“How many people saw?” Harry asked, not entirely sure what he wanted the answer to be.

“Well,” said Liam, “it hasn’t exactly popped up in any tabloids or anything, so I’m guessing not that many. Anyone that actually saw you probably thought you were playing around and the rest… I suppose they didn’t see it, did they? Although frankly, you need to work on your expression if you’re actually going to try and hide this - you should have seen the look on your face when you walked in. Even if we hadn’t already gotten the gist of what happened, it would have been obvious just from that grin. It was obscene, Harry,” he told him with faux-seriousness.

“You were glowing,” Niall said disgustedly, but he was unable to keep the joy from his happy blue eyes.

Hearing that didn’t bother Harry as much as it should have. He felt another smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“God, you’re doin’ it again!” Zayn accused in his outrageous put-on accent, laughing and pointing at him ecstatically. “Honestly! We thought Louis was bad, but look at that!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Louis’ voice demanded suddenly, and they all glanced over to find him approaching with an affronted look plastered on his face, staring at Zayn like he couldn’t imagine such an insult. “How was I bad?” Although he may have tried to keep the pretence in place, his eyes soon strayed over to where Harry was smiling at him, and his efforts quickly disintegrated in the wake of the tender expression that bloomed in his face.

Instantly, Harry got up and threw himself at Louis, wrapping both arms around his neck without a single ounce of shame about doing so in front of their band mates. With a finger beneath his chin, Louis tilted the younger boy’s face slightly so that he could boldly kiss him again and his mouth moved seriously against Harry’s, heatedly capturing his lips with nearly as much passion as he had earlier that morning. His hands gripped Harry’s hips to pull him closer, and though their display had stretched on to an uncomfortable point for anyone else in the room, Louis did not release him. Even if he had tried, Harry would not have let him.

“Okay!” Liam finally burst out, when he could no longer handle the sight. “Guys, we’re standing right here.”

“And I think you’ve just lowered the hygiene standards of your own kitchen,” Niall added around his mouthful of breakfast, grimacing slightly.

Without breaking the kiss, Louis flipped them off behind Harry’s back. His tongue very visibly flashed with Harry’s as he opened his mouth a little wider, fingers digging into the boy’s curls, but the retaliatory act was somewhat hindered by the smile that had started to bend his lips.

“Oh, come on!” Niall protested.

Then, with an impish grin, Zayn snagged a tea towel from the bench, balled it up in his hands, and flung it at the heads of the happy couple. It billowed out perfectly mid-flight and draped over them both as it landed, covering their faces.

Both were laughing as they emerged and, much to the relief of their unwilling audience, they had finally broken apart. Louis was grinning, head turned as he tossed the towel back, and Harry’s forehead was resting against his temple; as they watched, the younger boy’s eyes closed peacefully, his nose lining up with Louis’ cheek and his lips pursing briefly as he pressed a kiss onto the edge of the other boy’s jaw.

Liam managed to catch Louis’ gaze before it could return to Harry’s face, and he twitched his eyebrows up questioningly. “So?” he asked, excitedly.

Harry didn’t understand the happy smile that spread across Louis’ lips. “Yep,” he replied proudly. “Everything went perfectly, better than I could have asked for.”

Hand tugging at Louis’ sleeve, Harry asked, “What’re you talking about?”

Before Louis could respond, Zayn answered for him, seemingly unable to stop himself from doing it. “He broke up with El this morning,” he burst out, beaming. All eyes swung to stare at him in disbelief, but he refused to look self-conscious. Harry’s incredulous gaze flicked from his face to Louis’. “What? He would have just whispered it in his ear or something, and I don’t need to see that.” At that explanation, Liam clapped his shoulder gratefully. 

“Really?” Harry whispered, and eyes wide and hopeful as he stared into Louis’. The older boy just nodded, biting his lip once.

“Congrats!” Niall crowed happily, throwing his arms in the air in celebration. “You’re a free man again!”

Louis’ eyes were still on Harry’s face as he replied, his hands playing with the boy’s curls. “No,” he said calmly. “I’m really not.”

Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest, his arms tightened around Louis’ waist, but Liam’s voice stopped him before he could lean in for another kiss. “What are you going to do, then?” Their concerned friend seemed oblivious of the dirty look Harry sent his way. “You know you’re going to have to deal with this eventually, right? The press is going to find out eventually, and it’ll all come out in the open. You’re going to have to do something about it.”

Sighing, Louis drew back slightly so that he could address Liam. “I do know that, and I love that you’re so concerned for us, mate, but I happen to know exactly what we’re going to do about it.” If Liam felt any hope that Louis was actually going to focus on the future for once, it was short-lived.

 “First, I’m going to do this,” he said, and then turned to kiss Harry’s lips once. When he withdrew, he stepped out of the circle of the younger boy’s arms to take a hold of his hands instead. He began walking backward as he continued, dragging Harry along with him. “And now I’m going to take this boy –” He nodded at Harry. “- intothat room -” With his chin, he gestured in the direction of the hall. “- and I’m going to take terrible, terrible advantage of him. You can stay here if you like, it’s your choice, so make yourselves comforta-” The rest of the word was muffled against Harry’s impatient kiss, and Louis didn’t make a single attempt finish the sentence. Together, the pair stumbled and staggered their way across the floor until they vanished around the corner, into the corridor. 

Once they were out of sight, Liam glanced from the hallway to his remaining band mates’ faces, looking a little discomfited. Uncertainly, he pointed toward the exit and took one half-step toward it. “Do you think they’re really going to…?”

They all jumped at the not-so-distant sound of the bedroom door banging open, crashing against the hinges. When it slammed shut a second later they all sprang into action, leaping to their feet and hastening to the door as fast as their legs would take them.