One Direction Fic: Sweethearts in Another Language
Title: Sweethearts in Another Language
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: R for suggestive content & some language; 5,155 words
Disclaimer: Pure (though well-sourced) fiction. No harm or profit intended.
A/N: Wherever possible, headers (including the title) link to source material for people unfamiliar with references. Much thanks to Reasons Why Larry Stylinson is Real's Masterpost about "The Signal" and Larry log for the sourcing of the fic. Special thanks to katienyc and flimsy for the wonderful betas. Any mistakes are mine, not theirs. All kinds of feedback is appreciated here or at clarinetkate@livejournal.com.
Summary: Harry flashes Louis a thumbs-up, big and obvious. Louis can feel his heart pounding as he subtly drops Eleanor’s hand to return the sign. Eleanor hasn’t noticed, but why would she, it’s nothing, a thumbs-up, meaningless, except for that it means everything to him.
Sweethearts in Another Language
February 4, 2012 - Los Angeles, California, USA
“Looks like my Valentine’s Harry. I don’t have a choice,” Louis says. Harry’s face breaks into a wide grin and he gives the camera a big thumbs-up.
When the video stops rolling, Harry is still cheesing, wiggles his thumb in Louis’ face. “Date night, secret boyfriends!” he singsongs.
Louis rolls his eyes and says, “Wanker,” but he can’t help but smile at the glee on Harry’s face.
Harry knowingly makes a wanking gesture and says, “Only if you’re good on our date!”
Louis always is.
February 12 - 14, 2012 - London, Sweden, Paris
The rest of the week, Harry won’t let it drop, thumbs-upping and winking at Louis at every chance, asking him what they’re going to do for Valentine’s Day. He’s loving making a big show about it, Louis can tell.
“Subtle, Haz,” Louis says. Harry’s even invented a little jingle, a hummed verse and then the chorus, “Secret boyfriends!”
“It won’t be a secret anymore if you don’t keep it down,” Louis says, laughing but only half joking. Harry doesn’t look like he cares much.
He hasn’t looked like he cares since he ended it with Caroline. That had been somewhat of a disaster, actually, and Louis knew he was partially, or maybe entirely, to blame.
“It was your bloody idea,” Harry had snapped at him after what was possibly their most awkward interview ever. Louis hadn’t meant to hijack the entire interview and put Harry and Caroline on the spot, embarrass them both and make everyone in the room and watching at home feel uncomfortable, but sometimes he just can’t stop himself once he gets started.
It was true that, like Eleanor, it had been his idea for Harry to date someone, though he can’t remember who had suggested Caroline. He had the distinct feeling it hadn’t been him. He doesn’t think he would’ve picked her. He is pretty sure. He doesn’t like her, honestly.
Once it was over Harry had announced in no uncertain terms that he was done with pretending things. Since then he’s been pushing things with Louis, telling Louis he ought to quit pretending too.
The next time Harry starts humming the song, Louis rushes over to him, presses his thumbs-up against Harry’s lips before he can belt the chorus. After a quick glance around, he rubs Harry’s lips, leans in, and whispers in a suggestive voice, “Secret, remember?”
March 9, 2012 - New York City, NY, USA
New York City is big and full of energy and excitement, even more so than London. Louis feels like maybe they could get lost in New York, wander around like a couple in love and no one would ever be the wiser. They don’t of course-they’re already too known-but the day out they spend together is close enough that Harry’s full of ideas of how it could be here.
He’s on Louis’ neck in the bathroom at Z100, telling him in between kisses that maybe they should go to a gay club tonight. Before Louis can respond, Liam knocks on the door, says, “Lads, get it together, we’re on.”
Louis fixes his jumper and then they’re out in front of the screaming fans. He’s thinking about Harry’s mouth on him, if his jumper’s on straight, and is barely focused on what the interviewer is saying, vaguely hears, “Do you see yourselves making America your second home?”
A fan yells out, “You can live in my house if you want” and the interviewer makes a crack about frisky fans.
Harry says, “I like New York,” and the fans go wild. Louis feels a bit wild and frisky too, so he slides his hand subtly over to Harry’s leg, puts his fist with extended thumb on Harry’s knee, just for a second, just until he’s sure he’s seen it.
Harry’s eyes meet his and they’re liquid, pupils dilated. Louis’ seen that look before, knows what it means. His insides flip a bit and he has to look away to keep himself in control.
When the interview is done, Harry shoots Louis a thumbs-up, his eyes gleaming still.
The last week in New York, Eleanor comes to visit. Louis likes Eleanor, truly he does, very much, or he wouldn’t be able to do this, but still being with her, pretending, wears him out in some unspecific way.
And Harry hates it, maybe even hates her, and has since the very beginning, even when Louis tried to explain that it wouldn’t actually mean anything, that really it was for them. But he’s seen for himself how shitty it felt when Harry was with Caroline, so he tries to keep everything separated. He figures the less Harry has to see or know about it, the better.
When they are all together in New York though, it’s impossible to keep things apart and he feels like he is being pulled in two directions constantly. Harry is out of sorts, and truth be told, Louis feels much the same, though he’s hiding it better, he hopes.
Whenever he can, he flashes a hand to Harry to show him that even though it has to be secret, he wants it, wants him, so bad.
March 24, 2012 - Dallas, Texas, USA
It’s becoming a bit of a thing, actually. Whenever they’re in a public situation and either of them starts to feel a little…something, they give each other a thumbs-up, just a little nothing, could mean anything, something no one would even notice or think twice about.
Louis loves that it feels so illicit, marking his territory right in front of the entire Dr. Pepper Ballpark in Dallas, huge crowds of people, who have no idea what they’re doing. Harry, for his part, lights up anytime Louis does it, like he wants to be marked. Something curls inside Louis’ body every time, because he knows it’s him who made Harry glow like that, and it’s hot, so hot.
Harry is ready at any moment for Louis to stake his claim. This is as close as Louis will get. Just their little secret signal.
April 11, 2012 - Sydney, Australia
The private show in Sydney is small, which somehow makes it feel that much more alive. Sometimes playing to a giant arena makes him feel like he’s just a speck on the stage. He hardly feels real in those moments. Here he’s 100% sure that he, Louis Tomlinson, is up there on stage, and not just his representative to the world. It’s really him who’s a star.
The show is good and by the end he feels exhilarated. He’s full of energy, needs to release it somehow. They hit the last note and it’s as if his arm has a life of its own, flying up, thumb extended.
He’s looking out at the crowd, can’t even see Harry. He doesn’t need to. He’s sure Harry will see, knows that Harry can’t stop looking at him every 30 seconds during the show, broadcasting his every thought and feeling despite the crowd.
Sure enough, he can feel Harry’s heat the second before he’s by his side, and he turns to see Harry’s giant smile. He tilts his thumb to caress Harry’s face, running his fingers through Harry’s sticky sweaty hair, while Harry belts out laughter, spotlights still on them.
This was the best show, Louis thinks, arm slung around Harry, leaning into him as they run off the stage. They’re still partially in the lights and barely off stage before Harry’s warm mouth is on his.
“I saw you and Harry on stage tonight,” Liam says.
“You and 200 fans,” Louis retorts.
“Yeah, and they’re not dumb. I think you’re losing control of your emotions,” Liam says.
Louis tries to laugh, but Liam’s face is serious. “Nah, I’m in control,” Louis says.
“I don’t think you are anymore. And I don’t know if Harry’s ever been.” Liam studies Louis’ face for a moment. “If you wanted to, could you stop it now?”
“Christ Liam, it was one little thing. Why’d I want to stop it?”
“I’m not asking if you want to, I’m asking if you could. Ask yourself honestly: can you remember what things were like before it was like this? Could you go back to that?”
Louis doesn’t say anything. Liam waits a beat, says, “And if you can’t go back, then where’s it going to? I think we’re all asking ourselves that now.”
The truth is Louis isn’t sure what he would go back to. He can’t really remember a time when he and Harry were just normal friends. He’s not sure if one ever existed.
Objectively, he can see that things have changed, but only because they know what they’re doing now. And that actually makes Louis feel more in control than he did in those early months of not being able to stop looking and touching and not quite understanding where it all came from. He was on an emotional rollercoaster of confusion and excitement then.
Knowing was half the battle. It helped him get better at compartmentalizing: this for private, that for public. Besides, what are the last seven months with Eleanor but proof positive that he’s in control?
April 22, 2012 - Wellington, New Zealand
In Wellington, his compartmentalization system starts to fall apart. Blame it on the alcohol.
They’re quite drunk and singing obnoxiously, loud, out of tune, totally abusing their vocal chords. It’s their good-bye to the southern hemisphere, so Louis doesn’t care about the fans stationed outside the bar. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything except having a good time before heading back to London. He can’t remember the last time he’s been so wasted.
He spots Harry’s thumbs-up on the bar, only slightly out of focus. A flood of happiness washes over him and he shouts, “Boyfriend!” twirling toward him.
Harry laughs, pulls him into a hug from behind, whispers, “Thought it was a secret.” Harry’s breath is warm on his ear and neck and before Louis can stop himself, he twists his body around, tilts his head back. Just like that, they’re kissing. In public. It’s only a short kiss, nothing really, but everything also.
In the car to the hotel, he’s climbing Harry in the backseat, straddling his lap and kissing him wildly. He can’t wait to throw him onto the bed and to be inside him. He whispers, “Want you so bad,” into Harry’s ear. Harry’s head falls back, mouth open, and Louis feels him arch up against him. He fumbles with Harry’s belt, snakes his hand under the waistband of Harry’s jeans, and begins to stroke him.
“Wanna turn you over right now,” Louis breathes out as the car pulls up to the hotel. They stumble out of the car, Harry’s belt undone, holding up his jeans with one hand, the other lodged on the small of Louis’ back, pushing, pushing. Louis isn’t sure he can make it upstairs.
The next morning Louis wakes with a headache. He surveys the room, clothes strewn about, and Harry’s lanky body stretched out and nude on the bed next to him. Louis sets the hot water heater and fishes his iPhone from his trousers’ pocket, crumpled up next to the door where he’d took them off in a hurry as soon as they’d come in the room.
10 AM, so still before midnight in the UK. He waits for the tea to be ready before dialing.
“Hey pet,” he says softly. “Yeah, amazing, amazing. It’s a bit bittersweet though; sad to leave, but happy to be coming home to see you. We’re headed back today, just wanted to give you the flight details.”
When he hangs up five minutes later, Harry is up, watching him through hooded eyes. “Do you really have to call he-” he says. Louis’ mouth is on his before he can get anything further out, and they have just enough time for a quickie before they have to pack.
April 24 - 30, 2012 - London, UK
The next week, he and Harry are hardly together. It feels strange to be without him, but Louis thinks it’s probably good to get some space. He needs to clear his head, refocus a bit. It’s getting harder to sort out what he wants ultimately, which is strange, since he basically has everything he’d ever wanted.
Harry wasn’t in the original plan, of course. He never thought to himself, I’d like to become a famous singer with a secret gay relationship. It was always the first part he was focused on; the second just seemed to have happened and up until now, he had always taken care that it didn’t ruin his actual dream.
If he has to say which is more important, though…he can’t push himself to think too deeply about it. He’s afraid of what he might discover, maybe some awful truth. Best not to dwell on it.
He hasn’t thought about it so callously in forever. He’d made an original calculation seven months ago when he met Eleanor and it had seemed the perfect solution. With Eleanor, he and Harry could hide in plain sight.
But maybe Liam was right that things are getting out of control.
He’s let himself get sloppy. He doesn’t know when it happened. Sometime between New York and when they first landed down under. It’s just that Harry is always already shining at him and Louis loves that one tiny hand motion can light him up like a Christmas tree. It’s hard to resist the urge to use that power. He wants to make Harry shine everywhere, not just when they’re alone. He wants everyone, the entire damn arena, to see his radiance, even if they don’t know that it’s because of him, for him.
He can’t get enough, can’t stop it or even slow it down. It’s all just so goddamned good. Maybe even better than the fame if he lets himself think it through.
His phone rings. He glances down at Eleanor’s face on the screen, sighs, hits the accept button and says sweetly, “Hey pet. I was just thinking about you. Shall I come round?”
May 10-15, 2012 - Stockholm, Sweden
Being in the studio again takes him back to their first time, just a year ago. The tension between him and Harry was so thick he could almost reach out and touch it. All along it had been a bit of a joke or a game, a kernel of truth hidden in an exaggeration. But by the time they were in the studio, neither of them could pretend it was like that anymore.
They’d had their first real kiss in the bathroom during one of Zayn’s takes. Louis can remember how wild, out of control, and happy he’d felt then. Everything had suddenly made sense, like the pieces of an obscured puzzle were falling into place, the picture clear all at once. By the time they went to Leeds Festival, Louis knew he was head-over-heels in love with Harry, probably had always been. Ultimately, nothing’s changed in the year.
Zayn is recording a solo. Louis leans over and whispers to Harry, “Remember our first kiss?” In a second they’re in the bathroom together, making out like it’s the first time all over again, moaning into each other’s mouths.
When they’ve calmed down a bit, still pressed against each other, but less urgent now, Harry sighs, “I wish we could go back to that time.”
Louis raises his eyebrows. “Why, what’d you mean?”
“I don’t know, after Leeds, I thought, well this is it,” Harry says. “This is how it’s meant to be. I was so happy. I guess I pictured us together together.”
The truth is, Louis had felt that way too, for about a month, before his better judgment had kicked in. Before he knew what he had to do. “Are you unhappy now?” Louis asks, half afraid to hear the answer.
Harry’s quiet for a long time. He says carefully, “I still think all those things. I know them. I don’t know if I’m unhappy, just a bit…disappointed that it hasn’t worked out as I imagined it.”
Louis runs his hands through Harry’s hair. “But you like having a secret, no? Secret boyfriends!”
“I did. For a little while.” Harry kisses him gently. “Just don’t know how much longer I can keep it. It’s getting too hard. And, Louis, I can’t stand anymore this thing with El-”
Louis feels a sinking in his stomach, and he cups Harry’s face, interrupting him, saying, “We’ll get through it.” And they’re kissing again, until there’s a knock on the door and Liam’s voice calling Louis to do his takes.
May 20, 2012 - En route to Boston, Massachusetts, USA
Louis has his hand curled around Harry’s left thigh, Harry leaning against the window. Harry shifts his leg, says, “I don’t see why Eleanor had to be at the airport. It’s a bit much.”
Louis can tell he’s trying to sound casual, but he’s only 75% pulling it off.
“C’mon Harry, she’s my girlfriend,” Louis responds, as patiently as he can.
Harry makes an obnoxious face, sarcastically gives Louis a thumbs-up, singsongs, “Boyfriend.” His grin is a grimace. Louis isn’t sure what the right response is, so he does nothing. Harry sighs, disgusted, and lets his hand drop.
They sit in silence for a minute. Louis hates silences, always has to break them with something stupid. He’s twitching waiting for Harry to say something, but Harry’s already turned to look out the window at the clouds gathering beneath them.
He can’t stand it. “We’ve got more than a month together, just us. We should be celebrating now,” Louis says, winding his hand back towards Harry’s lap.
Harry pushes his hand away, says, “Not now, Lou, you were just with her. I’m not going to be sloppy seconds.”
“What, you want me to go wash it? Jesus, Harry.” Louis is starting to get annoyed. This isn’t fun for him either. Harry doesn’t respond, but Louis can see the corners of his mouth turning down. He softens, says, “And you’re not sloppy seconds with me. Never.”
Harry meets his eyes, says, “I don’t want to share you anymore.” Then, “I’m going to go sit with Niall.”
As Harry gets up, Louis sees Liam watching them. Louis avoids his eye.
Six hours with Niall seems to have calmed Harry down, though Louis has spent most of the flight brooding. He feels no clearer. He’s already texted Eleanor to tell her they’ve arrived safely, but even as he’s doing it he’s wondering why. Certainly not out of love. Out of duty and responsibility, then? Or it is out of habit? Whichever, he doesn’t know if he can stop it any more than he can stop things from spinning out of control with Harry.
Outside Logan airport they pose for some fans in front of their tour bus. Louis’ thoughts are still swirling and he just wants to be lying down. As they shuffle back towards the bus, Louis feels Harry’s arms suddenly on his shoulders, gently guiding him. Harry whispers, “I love you,” into the back of his head. Louis relaxes for the first time since Heathrow.
On the bus, Louis leans his head against Harry’s chest. He can feel his phone vibrate in his pocket with a text, but he doesn’t dare pull it out. Not now, when things are so perfect.
May 25 - 28, 2012 - New York City, NY, USA
It’s actually a surprise to Louis that Eleanor is coming to New York. It’s only been four days and it feels way too soon. He understands-it’s New York after all-but wishes it wasn’t happening already. Things have been so good, exactly like he promised Harry it would be. He wants their month of peace just as much as Harry does, even if he can’t give into it completely.
“So,” he says, as casually as he can. “Eleanor and my sister are coming for the New York concert. My mom’s surprise.”
Harry doesn’t react for a moment. He says evenly, eyes locked on Louis, “Ok. Whose room are you going to sleep in?”
Louis swallows, squints his eyes. “Well, I assume my sis and El will room together, so yours, of course, like always.”
“And if they don’t?” Harry is unwavering.
“Harry, I don’t want to have this fight, truly,” Louis says, shaking his head, because they both know the answer to the question, he doesn’t even have to say it. Can’t say it.
“Tell me, where would you rather be, then.”
“You know where.”
“So just be there either way.”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”
“It is though, it is,” Harry shoots back. “You already kissed me in Wellington; there’s a fucking video on YouTube.”
“It’s blurry.” As soon as he says it he knows it’s the wrong response. Harry looks at him incredulously. Louis doesn’t know what the right thing to say is.
Harry puts his head in his hands, looks and the floor, and says, “Remember what we talked about in Sweden? Louis, I’ve got to know: do you want to be with me for real…or not?”
Louis is by his side in a second, kneeling beside him, hand rubbing his neck. “I am with you for real.”
Harry lifts his head. “Then call Eleanor and tell her not to come. Please.”
Louis knows he can’t just do that. He doesn’t understand, Louis thinks. Says, “Harry, do you want to be world famous singers or not?”
“The two. Are not. Mutually. Exclusive,” Harry says deliberately.
“I know that,” Louis answers back equally intensely. “What do you think the last eight months dating Eleanor have been all about? We’ve been doing it, got the best of both worlds here! Remember, secret boyfriends?” He feels desperate, tries to smile, taps Harry’s nose with his thumb.
“I can’t anymore,” Harry says, shakes his head sadly and reaches up to stroke Louis’ cheek. “I love you so much, “ He looks like he’s about to cry.
That night Harry sings “Gotta Be You” directly to him and Louis feels like he’s the one who might cry.
Louis pauses in front of the door to their hotel room. He can hear Harry and Niall’s laughter inside. Thank god, he thinks. They’d had a terrible row earlier when Louis told him that he would be spending the day with Eleanor. Harry’s pushing everything so much, telling Louis he has to choose now.
Louis feels like their whole world might fall apart any minute. He wishes to god Eleanor hadn’t come, wishes he had more time to think, to sort things out, but what can he do? She’s here now. He can’t exactly pretend she isn’t.
Harry’s whooping with laughter inside the room. The sound of Harry’s laugh gets him every time. He feels a warm, little ache in his heart. The day with Eleanor was nice, but he has far too much on his mind and Harry’s laugh feels like home.
He opens the door with a smile, calls out, “Hey lads.”
Harry’s laughter dies on his lips as he glances at Niall. Niall looks back at Harry and nods ever so slightly. Harry clears his throat, then monotones, “Hey Lou. Niall’s spending the night in here, so…I guess you can sleep in his room. Or with Eleanor.” Harry shrugs like it doesn’t matter to him which one he chooses.
Louis shoots a look at Niall, who has the decency to have a guilty look on his face and avert his eyes. Louis looks back to Harry. There’s no trace of laughter on his face.
“I’ve had a long day, Harry. I want to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Louis says. With you, he adds in his head.
Niall looks uncomfortable, but doesn’t move to leave. Harry’s face is set. Louis feels sick. He tries to show Harry how much he wants, needs to be with him tonight, pleads with his eyes. Harry stares at him dispassionately.
When Louis finally speaks, his voice sounds alien to himself and so far away, like it’s not really him speaking. He pretends it isn’t. “Alright. Have a nice night, boys.”
The next day Louis feels like shit. But his sister and Eleanor are here, Liam’s watching him and Harry both, and they’ve got another show. This was the dream, after all, everything he’d wanted.
Onstage Harry is almost his old self, full of glances and whispers. Louis can practically forget everything when he looks across the stage at Harry, sees his broad smile, his disheveled hair. By the time the show is over, he’s finally starting to feel good again, like maybe everything could just go back to how it was before Eleanor came.
As he runs off the stage, he has an overwhelming urge to pull Harry in to him. To have this show be like any other show. To be exactly how they are when no one’s watching. To be together together. His whole body craves it. He catches Harry’s eye and sees his need too. He starts towards him, breathing hard, full of desire.
They’re both stricken when suddenly Eleanor crashes into him. Harry gives him an imploring look. Eleanor’s arms still around him, Louis hesitates. He can’t help it. Just for a second, but it’s enough. Harry’s already turned and walked towards the dressing rooms, head down, leaving Louis no choice but to give Eleanor a chaste kiss, still watching Harry over her shoulder.
Fifteen minutes later they’re all relaxing backstage, except Louis feels on edge and not relaxed at all, though he’s doing his best not to show it. Harry’s still in the dressing room. Louis is watching the door, has half a mind to get up and go to Harry, when suddenly there he is.
Louis meets his eyes and something inside of him just aches. He’s just so beautiful, his curls askew and face slightly flushed. Louis’ hand is wound through Eleanor’s. Harry is like an itch he can’t scratch and it’s driving him mad.
Harry’s eyes travel to Louis’ hands. He flashes Louis a thumbs-up, big and obvious. Louis can feel his heart pounding as he subtly drops Eleanor’s hand to return the sign. Eleanor hasn’t noticed, but why would she, it’s nothing, a thumbs-up, meaningless, except for that it means everything to him.
He flashes Harry a tentative smile. Harry crosses the room and sits down at the table. Louis is trying to pay attention to the flow of conversation, but he’s too caught up in holding Harry’s gaze, waiting for Harry to return the smile. He doesn’t.
Harry stretches out his arm, drops his fist to the middle of the table, thumb pointing skyward. That has everyone’s attention now. Louis’ eyes flick quickly around the room. Niall has a funny look on his face, like he knows what’s coming next, Liam is watching them both like a hawk, and Zayn’s doing his best to keep the conversation with Eleanor going. Louis is breathing hard, staring at Harry’s insistent hand.
He reaches behind Eleanor, with big, obvious motions now, to reciprocate. He can see Liam shaking his head, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s sure Eleanor can feel the tension in the room, sure she could feel his sudden movement behind her, sure she knows, she must know now. If she feels it, she’s doing her best to hide it, nodding like Zayn is saying something so interesting, like the world isn’t exploding around her.
Harry moves his hand from the table, still staring at him, looking entirely other than the beautiful creature Louis fell in love with more than a year ago. Looking dangerous.
Louis sends him a pleading look, thinks, Not now, please not now. He tries to telegraph I love you so much, so much to Harry. He can feel Eleanor leaning into him now, touching his chest, but he doesn’t dare break Harry’s gaze. He wishes for what seems like the millionth time that she weren’t there, but he doesn’t move away from her, just can’t.
Something flickers behind Harry’s eyes, a resigned sadness or regret, Louis isn’t sure which. Harry swallows hard, bites his lip, and then suddenly his hand juts out, right in front of Eleanor’s face, so close that she gasps. His thumb is practically touching her nose.
Eleanor looks to Harry in shock, but he’s looking through her, doesn’t even see her, despite being close enough to thrust his hand in her face. Louis can feel her eyes on him now, but he feels paralyzed, face turning red. He can’t tear his eyes off of Harry.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Eleanor try to catch any of the boys’ eyes, but they’re all studiously looking away, Zayn clearing his throat and inspecting a spot on his shirt, Niall nodding to himself, eyes on Harry and Louis, watching the scene unfold like he expected this.
Finally it’s Liam who makes a move towards them. He says, “Come on, Harry, let it go,” trying to steer him away by the shoulder. Harry brushes him off, shaking slightly, otherwise unwavering. Louis thinks Eleanor looks like she might cry. Louis feels like he might too.
Miserably, Louis stretches his arm out to touch his own thumbs-up to Harry’s, centimeters in front of Eleanor’s face. Harry puts his arm down, shaking for real. Eleanor is breathing hard, but before she can say or do anything, Louis hears himself say in a cracking voice, “Excuse us a minute, would you?”
Louis closes the door behind them, leans heavily against it. His knees feel weak.
“Fuck. What are you doing, Haz?” he asks. He can’t keep the panic out of his voice.
Harry doesn’t respond, just stares at Louis, eyes hard.
“I mean, what do you want me to do? What?” Louis feels like he might throw up. He can’t even smile a little, can’t pretend that this is something either of them is in control of anymore.
He feels like he’ll crack under the weight of Harry’s glare. Louis shudders, eyes searching Harry’s face, his beautiful face. It doesn’t soften. His brow still furrowed. They stand eyes locked, silent.
Louis can’t take the silence and frantically starts, “Harry, I know, I want it too, I do, so much, but --“
Harry shakes his head and slowly brings his right fist face height and pushes Louis’ mouth closed with his outstretched thumb, silencing him. He whispers, “No more buts.”
Louis feels something break inside himself then and just like that he’s crying, really crying. Harry’s mouth contorts a little, his eyes suddenly glistening, but he doesn’t break his stare or move his hand. Louis closes his eyes.
“Ok,” he whispers into Harry’s thumb, opens his eyes. “Ok.”
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: R for suggestive content & some language; 5,155 words
Disclaimer: Pure (though well-sourced) fiction. No harm or profit intended.
A/N: Wherever possible, headers (including the title) link to source material for people unfamiliar with references. Much thanks to Reasons Why Larry Stylinson is Real's Masterpost about "The Signal" and Larry log for the sourcing of the fic. Special thanks to katienyc and flimsy for the wonderful betas. Any mistakes are mine, not theirs. All kinds of feedback is appreciated here or at clarinetkate@livejournal.com.
Summary: Harry flashes Louis a thumbs-up, big and obvious. Louis can feel his heart pounding as he subtly drops Eleanor’s hand to return the sign. Eleanor hasn’t noticed, but why would she, it’s nothing, a thumbs-up, meaningless, except for that it means everything to him.
Sweethearts in Another Language
February 4, 2012 - Los Angeles, California, USA
“Looks like my Valentine’s Harry. I don’t have a choice,” Louis says. Harry’s face breaks into a wide grin and he gives the camera a big thumbs-up.
When the video stops rolling, Harry is still cheesing, wiggles his thumb in Louis’ face. “Date night, secret boyfriends!” he singsongs.
Louis rolls his eyes and says, “Wanker,” but he can’t help but smile at the glee on Harry’s face.
Harry knowingly makes a wanking gesture and says, “Only if you’re good on our date!”
Louis always is.
February 12 - 14, 2012 - London, Sweden, Paris
The rest of the week, Harry won’t let it drop, thumbs-upping and winking at Louis at every chance, asking him what they’re going to do for Valentine’s Day. He’s loving making a big show about it, Louis can tell.
“Subtle, Haz,” Louis says. Harry’s even invented a little jingle, a hummed verse and then the chorus, “Secret boyfriends!”
“It won’t be a secret anymore if you don’t keep it down,” Louis says, laughing but only half joking. Harry doesn’t look like he cares much.
He hasn’t looked like he cares since he ended it with Caroline. That had been somewhat of a disaster, actually, and Louis knew he was partially, or maybe entirely, to blame.
“It was your bloody idea,” Harry had snapped at him after what was possibly their most awkward interview ever. Louis hadn’t meant to hijack the entire interview and put Harry and Caroline on the spot, embarrass them both and make everyone in the room and watching at home feel uncomfortable, but sometimes he just can’t stop himself once he gets started.
It was true that, like Eleanor, it had been his idea for Harry to date someone, though he can’t remember who had suggested Caroline. He had the distinct feeling it hadn’t been him. He doesn’t think he would’ve picked her. He is pretty sure. He doesn’t like her, honestly.
Once it was over Harry had announced in no uncertain terms that he was done with pretending things. Since then he’s been pushing things with Louis, telling Louis he ought to quit pretending too.
The next time Harry starts humming the song, Louis rushes over to him, presses his thumbs-up against Harry’s lips before he can belt the chorus. After a quick glance around, he rubs Harry’s lips, leans in, and whispers in a suggestive voice, “Secret, remember?”
March 9, 2012 - New York City, NY, USA
New York City is big and full of energy and excitement, even more so than London. Louis feels like maybe they could get lost in New York, wander around like a couple in love and no one would ever be the wiser. They don’t of course-they’re already too known-but the day out they spend together is close enough that Harry’s full of ideas of how it could be here.
He’s on Louis’ neck in the bathroom at Z100, telling him in between kisses that maybe they should go to a gay club tonight. Before Louis can respond, Liam knocks on the door, says, “Lads, get it together, we’re on.”
Louis fixes his jumper and then they’re out in front of the screaming fans. He’s thinking about Harry’s mouth on him, if his jumper’s on straight, and is barely focused on what the interviewer is saying, vaguely hears, “Do you see yourselves making America your second home?”
A fan yells out, “You can live in my house if you want” and the interviewer makes a crack about frisky fans.
Harry says, “I like New York,” and the fans go wild. Louis feels a bit wild and frisky too, so he slides his hand subtly over to Harry’s leg, puts his fist with extended thumb on Harry’s knee, just for a second, just until he’s sure he’s seen it.
Harry’s eyes meet his and they’re liquid, pupils dilated. Louis’ seen that look before, knows what it means. His insides flip a bit and he has to look away to keep himself in control.
When the interview is done, Harry shoots Louis a thumbs-up, his eyes gleaming still.
The last week in New York, Eleanor comes to visit. Louis likes Eleanor, truly he does, very much, or he wouldn’t be able to do this, but still being with her, pretending, wears him out in some unspecific way.
And Harry hates it, maybe even hates her, and has since the very beginning, even when Louis tried to explain that it wouldn’t actually mean anything, that really it was for them. But he’s seen for himself how shitty it felt when Harry was with Caroline, so he tries to keep everything separated. He figures the less Harry has to see or know about it, the better.
When they are all together in New York though, it’s impossible to keep things apart and he feels like he is being pulled in two directions constantly. Harry is out of sorts, and truth be told, Louis feels much the same, though he’s hiding it better, he hopes.
Whenever he can, he flashes a hand to Harry to show him that even though it has to be secret, he wants it, wants him, so bad.
March 24, 2012 - Dallas, Texas, USA
It’s becoming a bit of a thing, actually. Whenever they’re in a public situation and either of them starts to feel a little…something, they give each other a thumbs-up, just a little nothing, could mean anything, something no one would even notice or think twice about.
Louis loves that it feels so illicit, marking his territory right in front of the entire Dr. Pepper Ballpark in Dallas, huge crowds of people, who have no idea what they’re doing. Harry, for his part, lights up anytime Louis does it, like he wants to be marked. Something curls inside Louis’ body every time, because he knows it’s him who made Harry glow like that, and it’s hot, so hot.
Harry is ready at any moment for Louis to stake his claim. This is as close as Louis will get. Just their little secret signal.
April 11, 2012 - Sydney, Australia
The private show in Sydney is small, which somehow makes it feel that much more alive. Sometimes playing to a giant arena makes him feel like he’s just a speck on the stage. He hardly feels real in those moments. Here he’s 100% sure that he, Louis Tomlinson, is up there on stage, and not just his representative to the world. It’s really him who’s a star.
The show is good and by the end he feels exhilarated. He’s full of energy, needs to release it somehow. They hit the last note and it’s as if his arm has a life of its own, flying up, thumb extended.
He’s looking out at the crowd, can’t even see Harry. He doesn’t need to. He’s sure Harry will see, knows that Harry can’t stop looking at him every 30 seconds during the show, broadcasting his every thought and feeling despite the crowd.
Sure enough, he can feel Harry’s heat the second before he’s by his side, and he turns to see Harry’s giant smile. He tilts his thumb to caress Harry’s face, running his fingers through Harry’s sticky sweaty hair, while Harry belts out laughter, spotlights still on them.
This was the best show, Louis thinks, arm slung around Harry, leaning into him as they run off the stage. They’re still partially in the lights and barely off stage before Harry’s warm mouth is on his.
“I saw you and Harry on stage tonight,” Liam says.
“You and 200 fans,” Louis retorts.
“Yeah, and they’re not dumb. I think you’re losing control of your emotions,” Liam says.
Louis tries to laugh, but Liam’s face is serious. “Nah, I’m in control,” Louis says.
“I don’t think you are anymore. And I don’t know if Harry’s ever been.” Liam studies Louis’ face for a moment. “If you wanted to, could you stop it now?”
“Christ Liam, it was one little thing. Why’d I want to stop it?”
“I’m not asking if you want to, I’m asking if you could. Ask yourself honestly: can you remember what things were like before it was like this? Could you go back to that?”
Louis doesn’t say anything. Liam waits a beat, says, “And if you can’t go back, then where’s it going to? I think we’re all asking ourselves that now.”
The truth is Louis isn’t sure what he would go back to. He can’t really remember a time when he and Harry were just normal friends. He’s not sure if one ever existed.
Objectively, he can see that things have changed, but only because they know what they’re doing now. And that actually makes Louis feel more in control than he did in those early months of not being able to stop looking and touching and not quite understanding where it all came from. He was on an emotional rollercoaster of confusion and excitement then.
Knowing was half the battle. It helped him get better at compartmentalizing: this for private, that for public. Besides, what are the last seven months with Eleanor but proof positive that he’s in control?
April 22, 2012 - Wellington, New Zealand
In Wellington, his compartmentalization system starts to fall apart. Blame it on the alcohol.
They’re quite drunk and singing obnoxiously, loud, out of tune, totally abusing their vocal chords. It’s their good-bye to the southern hemisphere, so Louis doesn’t care about the fans stationed outside the bar. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything except having a good time before heading back to London. He can’t remember the last time he’s been so wasted.
He spots Harry’s thumbs-up on the bar, only slightly out of focus. A flood of happiness washes over him and he shouts, “Boyfriend!” twirling toward him.
Harry laughs, pulls him into a hug from behind, whispers, “Thought it was a secret.” Harry’s breath is warm on his ear and neck and before Louis can stop himself, he twists his body around, tilts his head back. Just like that, they’re kissing. In public. It’s only a short kiss, nothing really, but everything also.
In the car to the hotel, he’s climbing Harry in the backseat, straddling his lap and kissing him wildly. He can’t wait to throw him onto the bed and to be inside him. He whispers, “Want you so bad,” into Harry’s ear. Harry’s head falls back, mouth open, and Louis feels him arch up against him. He fumbles with Harry’s belt, snakes his hand under the waistband of Harry’s jeans, and begins to stroke him.
“Wanna turn you over right now,” Louis breathes out as the car pulls up to the hotel. They stumble out of the car, Harry’s belt undone, holding up his jeans with one hand, the other lodged on the small of Louis’ back, pushing, pushing. Louis isn’t sure he can make it upstairs.
The next morning Louis wakes with a headache. He surveys the room, clothes strewn about, and Harry’s lanky body stretched out and nude on the bed next to him. Louis sets the hot water heater and fishes his iPhone from his trousers’ pocket, crumpled up next to the door where he’d took them off in a hurry as soon as they’d come in the room.
10 AM, so still before midnight in the UK. He waits for the tea to be ready before dialing.
“Hey pet,” he says softly. “Yeah, amazing, amazing. It’s a bit bittersweet though; sad to leave, but happy to be coming home to see you. We’re headed back today, just wanted to give you the flight details.”
When he hangs up five minutes later, Harry is up, watching him through hooded eyes. “Do you really have to call he-” he says. Louis’ mouth is on his before he can get anything further out, and they have just enough time for a quickie before they have to pack.
April 24 - 30, 2012 - London, UK
The next week, he and Harry are hardly together. It feels strange to be without him, but Louis thinks it’s probably good to get some space. He needs to clear his head, refocus a bit. It’s getting harder to sort out what he wants ultimately, which is strange, since he basically has everything he’d ever wanted.
Harry wasn’t in the original plan, of course. He never thought to himself, I’d like to become a famous singer with a secret gay relationship. It was always the first part he was focused on; the second just seemed to have happened and up until now, he had always taken care that it didn’t ruin his actual dream.
If he has to say which is more important, though…he can’t push himself to think too deeply about it. He’s afraid of what he might discover, maybe some awful truth. Best not to dwell on it.
He hasn’t thought about it so callously in forever. He’d made an original calculation seven months ago when he met Eleanor and it had seemed the perfect solution. With Eleanor, he and Harry could hide in plain sight.
But maybe Liam was right that things are getting out of control.
He’s let himself get sloppy. He doesn’t know when it happened. Sometime between New York and when they first landed down under. It’s just that Harry is always already shining at him and Louis loves that one tiny hand motion can light him up like a Christmas tree. It’s hard to resist the urge to use that power. He wants to make Harry shine everywhere, not just when they’re alone. He wants everyone, the entire damn arena, to see his radiance, even if they don’t know that it’s because of him, for him.
He can’t get enough, can’t stop it or even slow it down. It’s all just so goddamned good. Maybe even better than the fame if he lets himself think it through.
His phone rings. He glances down at Eleanor’s face on the screen, sighs, hits the accept button and says sweetly, “Hey pet. I was just thinking about you. Shall I come round?”
May 10-15, 2012 - Stockholm, Sweden
Being in the studio again takes him back to their first time, just a year ago. The tension between him and Harry was so thick he could almost reach out and touch it. All along it had been a bit of a joke or a game, a kernel of truth hidden in an exaggeration. But by the time they were in the studio, neither of them could pretend it was like that anymore.
They’d had their first real kiss in the bathroom during one of Zayn’s takes. Louis can remember how wild, out of control, and happy he’d felt then. Everything had suddenly made sense, like the pieces of an obscured puzzle were falling into place, the picture clear all at once. By the time they went to Leeds Festival, Louis knew he was head-over-heels in love with Harry, probably had always been. Ultimately, nothing’s changed in the year.
Zayn is recording a solo. Louis leans over and whispers to Harry, “Remember our first kiss?” In a second they’re in the bathroom together, making out like it’s the first time all over again, moaning into each other’s mouths.
When they’ve calmed down a bit, still pressed against each other, but less urgent now, Harry sighs, “I wish we could go back to that time.”
Louis raises his eyebrows. “Why, what’d you mean?”
“I don’t know, after Leeds, I thought, well this is it,” Harry says. “This is how it’s meant to be. I was so happy. I guess I pictured us together together.”
The truth is, Louis had felt that way too, for about a month, before his better judgment had kicked in. Before he knew what he had to do. “Are you unhappy now?” Louis asks, half afraid to hear the answer.
Harry’s quiet for a long time. He says carefully, “I still think all those things. I know them. I don’t know if I’m unhappy, just a bit…disappointed that it hasn’t worked out as I imagined it.”
Louis runs his hands through Harry’s hair. “But you like having a secret, no? Secret boyfriends!”
“I did. For a little while.” Harry kisses him gently. “Just don’t know how much longer I can keep it. It’s getting too hard. And, Louis, I can’t stand anymore this thing with El-”
Louis feels a sinking in his stomach, and he cups Harry’s face, interrupting him, saying, “We’ll get through it.” And they’re kissing again, until there’s a knock on the door and Liam’s voice calling Louis to do his takes.
May 20, 2012 - En route to Boston, Massachusetts, USA
Louis has his hand curled around Harry’s left thigh, Harry leaning against the window. Harry shifts his leg, says, “I don’t see why Eleanor had to be at the airport. It’s a bit much.”
Louis can tell he’s trying to sound casual, but he’s only 75% pulling it off.
“C’mon Harry, she’s my girlfriend,” Louis responds, as patiently as he can.
Harry makes an obnoxious face, sarcastically gives Louis a thumbs-up, singsongs, “Boyfriend.” His grin is a grimace. Louis isn’t sure what the right response is, so he does nothing. Harry sighs, disgusted, and lets his hand drop.
They sit in silence for a minute. Louis hates silences, always has to break them with something stupid. He’s twitching waiting for Harry to say something, but Harry’s already turned to look out the window at the clouds gathering beneath them.
He can’t stand it. “We’ve got more than a month together, just us. We should be celebrating now,” Louis says, winding his hand back towards Harry’s lap.
Harry pushes his hand away, says, “Not now, Lou, you were just with her. I’m not going to be sloppy seconds.”
“What, you want me to go wash it? Jesus, Harry.” Louis is starting to get annoyed. This isn’t fun for him either. Harry doesn’t respond, but Louis can see the corners of his mouth turning down. He softens, says, “And you’re not sloppy seconds with me. Never.”
Harry meets his eyes, says, “I don’t want to share you anymore.” Then, “I’m going to go sit with Niall.”
As Harry gets up, Louis sees Liam watching them. Louis avoids his eye.
Six hours with Niall seems to have calmed Harry down, though Louis has spent most of the flight brooding. He feels no clearer. He’s already texted Eleanor to tell her they’ve arrived safely, but even as he’s doing it he’s wondering why. Certainly not out of love. Out of duty and responsibility, then? Or it is out of habit? Whichever, he doesn’t know if he can stop it any more than he can stop things from spinning out of control with Harry.
Outside Logan airport they pose for some fans in front of their tour bus. Louis’ thoughts are still swirling and he just wants to be lying down. As they shuffle back towards the bus, Louis feels Harry’s arms suddenly on his shoulders, gently guiding him. Harry whispers, “I love you,” into the back of his head. Louis relaxes for the first time since Heathrow.
On the bus, Louis leans his head against Harry’s chest. He can feel his phone vibrate in his pocket with a text, but he doesn’t dare pull it out. Not now, when things are so perfect.
May 25 - 28, 2012 - New York City, NY, USA
It’s actually a surprise to Louis that Eleanor is coming to New York. It’s only been four days and it feels way too soon. He understands-it’s New York after all-but wishes it wasn’t happening already. Things have been so good, exactly like he promised Harry it would be. He wants their month of peace just as much as Harry does, even if he can’t give into it completely.
“So,” he says, as casually as he can. “Eleanor and my sister are coming for the New York concert. My mom’s surprise.”
Harry doesn’t react for a moment. He says evenly, eyes locked on Louis, “Ok. Whose room are you going to sleep in?”
Louis swallows, squints his eyes. “Well, I assume my sis and El will room together, so yours, of course, like always.”
“And if they don’t?” Harry is unwavering.
“Harry, I don’t want to have this fight, truly,” Louis says, shaking his head, because they both know the answer to the question, he doesn’t even have to say it. Can’t say it.
“Tell me, where would you rather be, then.”
“You know where.”
“So just be there either way.”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”
“It is though, it is,” Harry shoots back. “You already kissed me in Wellington; there’s a fucking video on YouTube.”
“It’s blurry.” As soon as he says it he knows it’s the wrong response. Harry looks at him incredulously. Louis doesn’t know what the right thing to say is.
Harry puts his head in his hands, looks and the floor, and says, “Remember what we talked about in Sweden? Louis, I’ve got to know: do you want to be with me for real…or not?”
Louis is by his side in a second, kneeling beside him, hand rubbing his neck. “I am with you for real.”
Harry lifts his head. “Then call Eleanor and tell her not to come. Please.”
Louis knows he can’t just do that. He doesn’t understand, Louis thinks. Says, “Harry, do you want to be world famous singers or not?”
“The two. Are not. Mutually. Exclusive,” Harry says deliberately.
“I know that,” Louis answers back equally intensely. “What do you think the last eight months dating Eleanor have been all about? We’ve been doing it, got the best of both worlds here! Remember, secret boyfriends?” He feels desperate, tries to smile, taps Harry’s nose with his thumb.
“I can’t anymore,” Harry says, shakes his head sadly and reaches up to stroke Louis’ cheek. “I love you so much, “ He looks like he’s about to cry.
That night Harry sings “Gotta Be You” directly to him and Louis feels like he’s the one who might cry.
Louis pauses in front of the door to their hotel room. He can hear Harry and Niall’s laughter inside. Thank god, he thinks. They’d had a terrible row earlier when Louis told him that he would be spending the day with Eleanor. Harry’s pushing everything so much, telling Louis he has to choose now.
Louis feels like their whole world might fall apart any minute. He wishes to god Eleanor hadn’t come, wishes he had more time to think, to sort things out, but what can he do? She’s here now. He can’t exactly pretend she isn’t.
Harry’s whooping with laughter inside the room. The sound of Harry’s laugh gets him every time. He feels a warm, little ache in his heart. The day with Eleanor was nice, but he has far too much on his mind and Harry’s laugh feels like home.
He opens the door with a smile, calls out, “Hey lads.”
Harry’s laughter dies on his lips as he glances at Niall. Niall looks back at Harry and nods ever so slightly. Harry clears his throat, then monotones, “Hey Lou. Niall’s spending the night in here, so…I guess you can sleep in his room. Or with Eleanor.” Harry shrugs like it doesn’t matter to him which one he chooses.
Louis shoots a look at Niall, who has the decency to have a guilty look on his face and avert his eyes. Louis looks back to Harry. There’s no trace of laughter on his face.
“I’ve had a long day, Harry. I want to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Louis says. With you, he adds in his head.
Niall looks uncomfortable, but doesn’t move to leave. Harry’s face is set. Louis feels sick. He tries to show Harry how much he wants, needs to be with him tonight, pleads with his eyes. Harry stares at him dispassionately.
When Louis finally speaks, his voice sounds alien to himself and so far away, like it’s not really him speaking. He pretends it isn’t. “Alright. Have a nice night, boys.”
The next day Louis feels like shit. But his sister and Eleanor are here, Liam’s watching him and Harry both, and they’ve got another show. This was the dream, after all, everything he’d wanted.
Onstage Harry is almost his old self, full of glances and whispers. Louis can practically forget everything when he looks across the stage at Harry, sees his broad smile, his disheveled hair. By the time the show is over, he’s finally starting to feel good again, like maybe everything could just go back to how it was before Eleanor came.
As he runs off the stage, he has an overwhelming urge to pull Harry in to him. To have this show be like any other show. To be exactly how they are when no one’s watching. To be together together. His whole body craves it. He catches Harry’s eye and sees his need too. He starts towards him, breathing hard, full of desire.
They’re both stricken when suddenly Eleanor crashes into him. Harry gives him an imploring look. Eleanor’s arms still around him, Louis hesitates. He can’t help it. Just for a second, but it’s enough. Harry’s already turned and walked towards the dressing rooms, head down, leaving Louis no choice but to give Eleanor a chaste kiss, still watching Harry over her shoulder.
Fifteen minutes later they’re all relaxing backstage, except Louis feels on edge and not relaxed at all, though he’s doing his best not to show it. Harry’s still in the dressing room. Louis is watching the door, has half a mind to get up and go to Harry, when suddenly there he is.
Louis meets his eyes and something inside of him just aches. He’s just so beautiful, his curls askew and face slightly flushed. Louis’ hand is wound through Eleanor’s. Harry is like an itch he can’t scratch and it’s driving him mad.
Harry’s eyes travel to Louis’ hands. He flashes Louis a thumbs-up, big and obvious. Louis can feel his heart pounding as he subtly drops Eleanor’s hand to return the sign. Eleanor hasn’t noticed, but why would she, it’s nothing, a thumbs-up, meaningless, except for that it means everything to him.
He flashes Harry a tentative smile. Harry crosses the room and sits down at the table. Louis is trying to pay attention to the flow of conversation, but he’s too caught up in holding Harry’s gaze, waiting for Harry to return the smile. He doesn’t.
Harry stretches out his arm, drops his fist to the middle of the table, thumb pointing skyward. That has everyone’s attention now. Louis’ eyes flick quickly around the room. Niall has a funny look on his face, like he knows what’s coming next, Liam is watching them both like a hawk, and Zayn’s doing his best to keep the conversation with Eleanor going. Louis is breathing hard, staring at Harry’s insistent hand.
He reaches behind Eleanor, with big, obvious motions now, to reciprocate. He can see Liam shaking his head, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s sure Eleanor can feel the tension in the room, sure she could feel his sudden movement behind her, sure she knows, she must know now. If she feels it, she’s doing her best to hide it, nodding like Zayn is saying something so interesting, like the world isn’t exploding around her.
Harry moves his hand from the table, still staring at him, looking entirely other than the beautiful creature Louis fell in love with more than a year ago. Looking dangerous.
Louis sends him a pleading look, thinks, Not now, please not now. He tries to telegraph I love you so much, so much to Harry. He can feel Eleanor leaning into him now, touching his chest, but he doesn’t dare break Harry’s gaze. He wishes for what seems like the millionth time that she weren’t there, but he doesn’t move away from her, just can’t.
Something flickers behind Harry’s eyes, a resigned sadness or regret, Louis isn’t sure which. Harry swallows hard, bites his lip, and then suddenly his hand juts out, right in front of Eleanor’s face, so close that she gasps. His thumb is practically touching her nose.
Eleanor looks to Harry in shock, but he’s looking through her, doesn’t even see her, despite being close enough to thrust his hand in her face. Louis can feel her eyes on him now, but he feels paralyzed, face turning red. He can’t tear his eyes off of Harry.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Eleanor try to catch any of the boys’ eyes, but they’re all studiously looking away, Zayn clearing his throat and inspecting a spot on his shirt, Niall nodding to himself, eyes on Harry and Louis, watching the scene unfold like he expected this.
Finally it’s Liam who makes a move towards them. He says, “Come on, Harry, let it go,” trying to steer him away by the shoulder. Harry brushes him off, shaking slightly, otherwise unwavering. Louis thinks Eleanor looks like she might cry. Louis feels like he might too.
Miserably, Louis stretches his arm out to touch his own thumbs-up to Harry’s, centimeters in front of Eleanor’s face. Harry puts his arm down, shaking for real. Eleanor is breathing hard, but before she can say or do anything, Louis hears himself say in a cracking voice, “Excuse us a minute, would you?”
Louis closes the door behind them, leans heavily against it. His knees feel weak.
“Fuck. What are you doing, Haz?” he asks. He can’t keep the panic out of his voice.
Harry doesn’t respond, just stares at Louis, eyes hard.
“I mean, what do you want me to do? What?” Louis feels like he might throw up. He can’t even smile a little, can’t pretend that this is something either of them is in control of anymore.
He feels like he’ll crack under the weight of Harry’s glare. Louis shudders, eyes searching Harry’s face, his beautiful face. It doesn’t soften. His brow still furrowed. They stand eyes locked, silent.
Louis can’t take the silence and frantically starts, “Harry, I know, I want it too, I do, so much, but --“
Harry shakes his head and slowly brings his right fist face height and pushes Louis’ mouth closed with his outstretched thumb, silencing him. He whispers, “No more buts.”
Louis feels something break inside himself then and just like that he’s crying, really crying. Harry’s mouth contorts a little, his eyes suddenly glistening, but he doesn’t break his stare or move his hand. Louis closes his eyes.
“Ok,” he whispers into Harry’s thumb, opens his eyes. “Ok.”