like a simile, i paint suggestive pictures (of me and you) (hs/lt)
part one
*
Louis spends the rest of his office hours reading over Harry's essay and by the time he gets home, he is upset.
"Niall," he says.
Niall is on the couch, watching Adventure Time. Louis is not entirely sure how Niall has so much free time in his last year of undergrad, but there is not much about Niall that Louis understands.
"Hey, Lou," Niall says, not taking his eyes away from the screen. "I think Finn is gonna make a move on Princess Bubblegum, hold on."
"I am upset, Niall," Louis says, laying down on the couch with his head on Niall's lap. Niall immediately starts petting his hair.
"Okay, okay, just gimme a second," Niall says.
Louis hums and closes his eyes. Niall knows just how to pet him and it turns him into a cat.
Ten minutes later, Niall shifts underneath him. He says, "Lou."
Louis blinks his eyes open. "Hey."
Laughing a little bit, Niall strokes his hand through Louis's hair one more time. "What's up, babe?"
Louis sits up and yawns. "Long day."
"Yeah, same. Man, why didn't you tell me that geology isn't actually about throwing rocks at things?"
Louis smiles, sleepy. He leans his head on Niall's shoulder. "Sorry, Nialler. Didn't want to shatter the illusion."
Niall laughs a little. "So, what's up? Why are you upset?"
"Oh." Louis sighs and it comes out long-suffering. Accurate, then. "I am in way, way too deep, Niall."
"The boy?"
Louis nods. "On top of being, like, lovely, he's also really fucking smart. And, like. Whatever. Kill me. I have to go email him notes on his paper. And he asked to read some of my short stories? Like, what the fuck?"
"Wow," Niall says, shifting back to look at Louis. "You don't let any of us read your stories. Well, me, anyway. Maybe you let Zayn. You let Zayn do a lot of things to you that you don't let me do."
Louis bats his eyelashes up at Niall. "Just say the word, darlin', and I'm all yours." He stands up and stretches, before looking back down at Niall. "Hey," he says. "I'm sorry I'm so, like, self-obsessed lately. I know it's annoying. This'll go away soon and I'll go back to being raptly invested in your life."
Niall snorts. "Right. And nah, Lou. It's good. You've seemed happier. I mean, aside from the tortured part. But, yeah, I don't know. It's good to see you, like, more alive. I guess. Think about that, or whatever."
Louis rolls his eyes. "You've been talking to Zayn."
"Well." Niall smiles, shrugging. "We're your support group of two."
"You both need to get... things. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. What the fuck ever. Am I not narcissistic enough for you? Stop handling me!"
"Hey!" Niall says. "If you must know, a girl in my geology class offered to help tutor me. She's cute. She likes my accent."
Louis smirks. "She probably just pities how absolutely shit you are at geology, mate."
"Oi, fuck off. I open up to you and this is how you react." Niall grabs his guitar from behind the couch. "I'm going to write a song entitled Louis Is The Worst Friend And He Can Choke On My Dick Metaphorically Not Literally Please Stop Looking At My Crotch Louis."
Louis flips him off and goes to his bedroom. Time to deal with this stupidly not-stupid boy who he is stupidly stupid over. Sitting down at his desk, he opens his laptop and email and stares at the blank white. It's all so intimidating. Anything he's saying here is a record and can be used against him. It's permanent. He's terrified, a little.
A half an hour, two laps around the apartment, and three beers later, he sends the email with his critique of Harry's essay. He added a postscript: I've attached one of the stories in the collection. It's... well, sorry, mate. Don't feel like you need to reply.
He stands up and falls face first into his bed.
A half an hour later, his phone dings with his email alert. His intestines are alive, on fire, and trying to claw their way into his stomach. SOS SOS SOS woe woe death death imminent death.
He crawls over to his computer and with absurd trepidation, he clicks on the unread email.
Louis,
Thank you so much for your notes. I completely understand what you're saying and, man, maybe you should rewrite Barthes, because that makes so much more sense. Thank you, seriously. I've been thinking about what you said, about this being too advanced or whatever, and I'm a little nervous. I hope it doesn't come off like I'm sucking up or anything! I just found an excerpt of Barthes on JSTOR and was intrigued. I don't know. Please tell me if I'm being dumb here.
And, Louis, god. Your story was... I don't even know what to say. The way you use words is powerful, and that's an understatement. I almost teared up, mate! Maybe it's because I'm close to the situation (forgive me for getting personal here - my parents divorced two years ago) but god. You're so talented. The emotion was subtle and striking and just enough to give me the choice to be affected, if that makes sense? You're not holding my hand through it, you're not telling me how I should feel. You're presenting the facts, you're showing me what's happening through your characters, and you're allowing me to be affected in the way that I choose. That is an amazing talent.
Thank you so, so much for sharing that with me. I'm really grateful and honoured. I don't want to, like, be that person who asks if it was personal, but if it was, then I feel very close to you and I just want to tell you that I think you're an amazingly strong person. Just. Thank you again.
Harry Styles
Louis immediately goes back to his bed and screams into his pillow for five minutes. Niall knocks on his door.
"Lou?"
"Go away," Louis says. He screams again.
"Are you okay?" Niall asks.
Screaming into a pillow is a sacred act, Louis thinks. If there's muffled screaming in a room where there's very clearly only one person occupying it, the Official Roommate Code should be to ignore it.
"I'm fine. Go talk to Zayn about my fucking emotional distress or whatever." Louis rolls over onto his back and stares at the ceiling.
He wants to tell himself he won't reply, but even as he thinks that, he's going back to his computer.
Harry,
I'm... overwhelmed? I guess. I don't really let people read what I write. All of my friends have learnt by now not to ask, I guess. You must have caught me offguard, haha. Not that I mind, really! I'm weirdly overprotective. But, god. I'm really flattered that you feel so strongly. That it hit you in that way, I guess. And, yeah, it's a personal piece. I suppose I'm just a big mess of daddy issues piled into one slightly humanoid shape. My dad left when I was little and my stepdad left when I wasn't so little and the time in between was kind of a catastrophe for me and my family, you know. Probably teenage boys shouldn't have to deal with emotional trauma, because that shit lingers, haha. I don't mean to overshare! I'm just really touched that you appreciated it the way you did. So thank you for that.
Louis
He sends it with a knot in his stomach. He's crossing a line here, he's sure. He's sure this is wildly inappropriate. He needs space and time and oceans between him and this boy, because this boy is making him insane. He decides to watch Parks and Recreation instead.
It takes an episode and a half before his email lets out another alert.
Louis-
Oh, god, I really hope you don't feel like I pressured you into sending me that!! I feel awful now, haha.
But seriously, I completely understand. My mum recently got remarried and it's just a big adjustment, I guess. I don't know. I kind of came to the US to get away from it all. Not that he's awful or I'm unhappy with it or anything! Just, like, it's a lot to have to deal with. It's a hard adjustment, and I cannot imagine having to deal with it before I was more actualised. If that makes sense. Not that I see myself as fully actualised or anything, god, I sound crazy right now. Just, like, as an early teenager, is all I mean. I know I said this already, but you seem like a really strong person.
I think you really showed that in your piece - the feeling of independence that comes through abandonment, if that makes sense? Your character, Max, spent a lot of time defining himself through his father, and through the image of his father that he created, and then came through in the end stronger, having shattered that. And I just think that's something that every young person goes through, regardless of their family situation, you know? Being defined through their parents, and the inevitable disappointment that comes with the realisation that they're not and never will be their parents.
I think I'm still dealing with that, actually. I don't know. Sorry for emoting at you hahaha.
Harry .x
Louis sits in front of his computer, dumbfounded. He knew Harry was smart. He knew Harry was an intelligent, sensitive person. He was well aware of all that, before this bomb of an email exploded on his fucking foxhole.
He's spent a lot of time acknowledging Harry's academic prowess, and absolutely point-blank refused to acknowledge his personhood.
Louis is very, very talented at appreciating aesthetics. He is the first one to elbow Zayn and point out a fit boy across the room. Whilst watching telly with Niall, Louis spends most of his brainspace deciding who is the hottest male lead and who is the prettiest female lead and deciding who should fuck based solely on that. He's predicted the outcome of the last three seasons of the Bachelor based purely on his knowledge of what the vapid contestants are looking for. Louis is incredibly accomplished at being shallow.
What Louis tries desperately to avoid is introspection. He despises Zayn's desire for his deep talks. He envies Zayn in equal amounts, though, for his ability to express his feelings with the ease he does. He is in awe of people who can sit down and open themselves up to the world without fear of being laughed at, of being rejected. Louis is crippled by the fear that if he opens himself up without the fragile protection of a character to hide behind, the world will string up his insecurities one by one and use them against him until he has nothing left.
But then Harry fucking Styles comes along and knocks Louis out with his perfect aesthetics and now. Now Louis has tangible proof, glowing against his face, that Harry can see through him, can see through his characters - on the page and off - and he can see Louis without any of the bullshit he uses to obscure himself. He can see Louis, he's seeing Louis, and he's not finding him wanting. He's saying Louis is strong. He's saying Louis is someone to be admired.
Standing up on shaking legs, Louis walks directly into the bathroom and throws up.
*
The next day, during the discussion section, Louis avoids Harry's eyes intently. Immediately after class, he shoves his papers into his bag and ignores the fact Harry is hanging back, looking worried.
"Hey, um, Louis?" Harry asks, and he actually fucking shuffles his feet. Harry is the embodiment of everything Louis has ever read about and assumed was a literary exaggeration.
He doesn't turn around for a moment, he just says, "One sec, Harry," and pulls out his phone.
here's the thing what if i just compared harry to mr darcy in my head.
Zayn will appreciate that.
Grabbing his bag and turning to face Harry, he smiles brightly. "What's up?"
"Oh," Harry says, blinking nervously. "I just wanted to make sure that we're, like, okay? I mean, I don't want to be annoying or anything, I just. You didn't reply to my email last night - which is totally fine, obviously! - I just wanted to make sure I didn't cross any lines or anything, I guess?"
Louis forces a laugh and Harry's brows furrow. "No, Harry, god, sorry, I got distracted. My roommate was being stupid, you know. Of course you didn't! I'm really flattered by your insight. Thank you, again."
Harry nods and runs his hand through his hair. "Okay. Good, um. Well. I'll see you around, I guess? Have a good day."
"You too," Louis says. He lets Harry walk out before him so he can silently tell whatever higher power that is constantly, consistently, and thoroughly fucking him over to get a life.
Deciding he needs a quad shot of something chocolatey, he heads immediately to his coffeeshop. Spreading the papers he needs to grade out on the corner table, he orders his usual and immediately puts his head in his hands. There is absolutely no reason this boy should be causing him this much anxiety. He's had crushes before. He had a massive crush on Zayn, before everything. He memorised Zayn's schedule and conveniently placed himself where he knew Zayn would walk by. He wrote a novella on a character based on Zayn. He fancied himself In Love with Zayn, before everything.
And with Theo, he was even stupider. He made sure he was at every party Theo went to. He added Theo on facebook minutes after they spoke for the first time. He managed to get drunk and managed to make out with Theo at least eight times before they fucked. He asked Theo out with a shaky voice and a certainty he would get laughed out. He dated Theo for two and a half years, while Theo simultaneously dated the majority of the English department, unbeknownst to Louis.
There were boys before and after, too, that Louis became - for lack of a better word - obsessed with. He obsessively checks their facebooks, their relationship statuses. He is borderline psychopathic, honestly. But it always fucking fades, is the thing. He gets crushes, and then he doesn't. He panics, tortures himself for a few weeks, and he gets over it.
And all Louis can think about now is the fact that it's not happening. It's not fading. He's completely consumed and it's irrational and he's writing horribly metaphoric poems about swimming upstream and chronic falling and autumn and green eyes and Louis wants to vomit, die, and make this end. He's getting dangerously to the point of impact, he thinks. Dangerously to the point of realisation that this is not a crush; to the point of realisation that if something doesn't happen, he will be crushed.
Dragging his fingers through his hair, he sits up and sighs. He doesn't have time for this. It's stupid. He's just a stupid, stupid boy with a crush on someone unattainable. He'll read some Whitman and get the fuck over it.
He will.
His email pings with an alert, and Louis rolls his eyes. He's pretty sure it's the professor, asking for an update on his discussion section. Mindlessly flipping through his tabs, he gets to his email and his stomach drops.
It's not the professor. It's Harry fucking Styles.
Louis,
I just wanted to apologise again. I know you said not to worry about it, but I've been thinking a lot and you said you never let anyone read your work, and I'm really sorry if you feel like I've pushed too hard after you've given me that privilege. I honestly would never intentionally intrude upon your privacy and I feel terrible thinking I may have crossed that line.
Harry .x
Louis lets out a deep breath. Fuck. Fuck.
Harry-
God, please, no. Don't feel that way. I don't... really know what to say, I guess, because you're right. It's private and it's hard to let people into that side of me. I'm not really built for that.
I think you are an incredible person. Just know that.
Louis x
He closes his eyes and sends it. His palms are sweating. He doesn't know what he's doing. This is getting too much, too close. The urge to run is too, too strong.
Harry replies almost immediately.
Louis,
If this is too forward, please, please, please tell me to fuck off and I will, immediately. But. Is there any chance you would want to get dinner with me?
I really hope... god. I don't know. I am hoping to hell I'm not intensely creepy here and I'm sure you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or. Just. I don't know. I'm so sorry. Ignore this. Or yell at me. I'm so sorry.
But I think I'll feel worse if I never ask, so.
Harry .x
Standing up so fast he almost upturns his table, Louis motions to the barista that he's stepping outside and all but runs out the door.
With shaking hands, he frantically dials Zayn.
"Yeah, what," Zayn grunts upon picking up.
Louis blinks furiously at the ground. "Zayn. Can-can you talk?"
There's a pause, and then Zayn's voice comes back, clearer, more gentle, and concerned. "What's up, Lou?"
"I-" Louis chokes on the words. "Harry just. Harry just asked me out."
"Oh, Lou," Zayn says. "Are you okay? Is he there now?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Louis squeezes his eyes shut. "No, fuck. It was over email. Like I'm Meg Ryan, I don't know. Oh my god."
"Hey. Hey, Louis," Zayn says, soothing. "Lou, it's okay. What are you going to say?"
"I don't know, oh my god. This was never even in the realm of possibility."
Zayn sighs. "Of course it was, Louis. Everyone could tell from the way you talked about him that he was into you. What are you going to say?"
"I can't go out with him! I'm his TA, Zayn! I... oh my god." Louis is not going to cry, because Louis promised himself a long time ago that he would never cry over a man again.
"Look," Zayn says. "I'm gonna need you to calm down, Louis. You're gonna email him back and you're going to tell him that you want to go out with him, and you can phrase that however you'd like, but you need to reassure him that he's not blindly hitting on his TA, and then you're going to remind him that you are his TA and that sort of thing is frowned upon. Then, you are going to tell him that there is a month until the semester is over, and you are looking forward to taking him out the moment he turns in his final paper. Got it?"
Louis takes a deep breath. "What if he finds someone better in a month, Zayn?"
He is so, so pathetic and all he wants is to curl into a ball in Zayn's bed and have Zayn wrap his skinny arms around him.
"There's no such thing, Louis. Believe that. I'm hanging up. Go email Harry."
Louis spends five more minutes sitting on the curb and staring at traffic before gathering himself and going back inside.
Harry,
You're not crossing any lines. Well, technically, I suppose you are, but before we get to that, I just want to say that I do want to get dinner with you. Very much so. At the risk of making myself sound even creepier, I've wanted to since you walked into that shitty classroom for the first time.
But, while I'm your TA, I can't. We can't. Just... if you're still interested when the semester is over, you know how to get ahold of me.
Louis x
Woe woe death death woe.
*
The days crawl by, and Louis feels as though he's literally crawling through them.
"Louis," Niall says one afternoon - two weeks after what Louis considers D-Day -crawling into Louis's bed, where Louis is trying desperately to stay alive. "You're being melodramatic."
"Your mum's melodramatic," Louis grumbles back.
"Louis," Niall says. "You're better than that."
Louis sighs, rolling over to face Niall. "Not anymore. Everything has abandoned me, even my creativity with comebacks."
Niall rolls his eyes. "You could be on the stage with these dramatics. You know what I think you need? A night out." He nods, as though that settles it.
"I am ill-equipped. I haven't been out in ages. There's nothing out there for me. All I have is my bed and crippling self-doubt." Louis sighs into Niall's face, fully aware of the turkey-guac-onion sandwich he had for lunch.
Niall chokes. "I absolutely loathe you. No, though. I talked to Zayn. We're taking you out. We're gonna meet up with Liam and them at that club down on fourth and we are going to get shitfaced and dance and meet cute humans."
"Humans aren't my type," Louis says.
"Louis," Niall groans. He gets out of the bed and pulls on Louis's wrist. "We're going. Zayn's going to be here at eight and we are going to pregame and then go have fun. Remember fun, Louis? It's something you used to be."
Louis closes his eyes. "Fine. If I go out I get two weeks of immunity. No dragging me into civilisation."
"Fine," Niall huffs. "But get up. Put on ass-pants. Something sexy, I don't care."
"Niall, you cheeky little minx." Louis grins at him.
Niall winks back. "Someday, Lou, we're gonna have done with it and make passionate love. I am ninety-nine percent positive that is how this rom-slash-buddy-com ends."
"Let me ride you off into the sunset, Nialler," Louis says. "Just say the word."
Niall just laughs and leaves the room. Louis surveys his closet. Something sexy. Right.
Two hours later, Louis is on the way to Very Drunk. Zayn and Niall are pouring shots in the kitchen and Louis is sprawled on the couch. Zayn appears behind him, holding a shotglass. Louis tips his head back and opens his mouth. Zayn smirks.
"This looks familiar somehow," he says.
Louis giggles and Zayn pours the shot down his throat. It's tequila and Louis is going to hate himself in the morning, but right now he can't even pretend to care.
"Oi," Niall shouts. "We should go before Princess Lou passes out."
"Yeah," Louis says. "We should go. I want to dance. Let's dance."
The apartment is only a couple of blocks from the club and Louis clings to Zayn as they walk, whispering in his ear.
"Louis," Zayn hisses, flustered. "Stop it, shit."
Louis smiles to himself, smug. "I love you, Zayner. I love you I love you I love you."
"I know," Zayn says, exactly at the moment Niall says, "We know, Louis. "
Louis just laughs, letting go of Zayn to skip ahead. The cover is four dollars and Louis throws his arm out for a stamp, ignoring the bouncer's suspicious look.
"Watch him," the bouncer says to Zayn. Zayn just sighs.
"Louis," he yells, and Louis just waves behind him, weaving his way to the bar.
Three drinks later finds Louis on the dancefloor, grinding into some very muscular bloke behind him. His eyes are closed and he's heedless of the hands on his hips, running over his body. Niall was right. He used to be fun. He needed this reminder.
"Lou," Zayn says, and Louis opens his eyes. He smiles hazily at Zayn in front of him.
"Zayner," he says.
"Let's get some water, yeah?" Zayn grabs his wrist and pulls Louis away from the hands on him. Louis sends the bloke an apologetic look back, but follows Zayn to the bar. Niall's sitting on a stool, talking animatedly to a laughing couple.
"Nialler!" Louis yells, pulling away from Zayn and rushing over to him. "Nialler, I've missed you, you need to come dance with me, let's get this rom-com back on track!" Louis turns to greet the couple Niall's been chatting with and.
And his stomach drops to the floor.
"Oh," he says. "Hello."
Harry's eyes are wide, and the air between them is charged. The girl Harry's with is oblivious, still laughing at whatever Niall's saying, but Harry's arm is around her waist, and it's intimate. There's lipstick on his mouth and on his neck.
Louis feels every point of contact between them like a punch in the gut.
"Louis," Harry says. "Hi."
Louis just stares back at him, and hopes like hell he's got a convincing smile on his face.
"Lou!" Niall's shouting. "Lou, Lou, Lou! Harry here's from England! You know what I said, I said, Hey, Harry, my roommate's from England too! You should meet him! And now here you are! It's like fate!"
Louis turns away from Harry's intent gaze and looks down at Niall, who's grinning madly. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is sweaty and Niall is drunk. He smiles a little more real at Niall. "Yeah, Ni, Harry and I know each other. He's in my discussion section."
"Oh!" Niall exclaims. "Oh, god, is this fate or what! Harry, mate, Louis has the most intense crush on some kid in-"
"Niall, can we chat?" Louis cuts in sharply. "Can we chat like right now?"
Niall blinks a few times before he focuses in on Louis's expression. His grin immediately falls off his face. "Oh. Fuck."
Zayn finally comes up to them. "Christ, Louis, don't just take off like that, mate," he says, slightly out of breath. He looks over at Harry and the girl Harry's with and he nods. "Hey. I'm Zayn."
Harry looks overwhelmed, completely out of his depth. Louis can relate. "Harry," he says weakly. Louis can feel Zayn's sharp breath behind him as the girl smiles at Zayn. "I'm Steph."
Louis gives her a half smile. "I'm Louis." She grins back at him. Louis is feeling his drunkenness slip off him like he's crawling out of the ocean, and all Louis wants in the world is to crawl back into it and drown.
Zayn's arm snakes around Louis's waist and Louis thinks vaguely that he's the only thing keeping him standing. He thinks that about Zayn a lot. He is very, very glad Zayn is in his life. Turning around in Zayn's arms, he raises up onto his tiptoes to press his mouth against Zayn's ear. "We need to leave. We need to leave before I lose it. We need to leave."
"Yeah," Zayn breathes back. He grabs Niall by the back of his jacket and pulls him up. "Well, it was lovely to meet you both, but this is the end of the night for us. The grown-ups have to get to bed or something. Have a good night."
Steph says, "Good luck, guys. Great to meet you. See you around!"
Harry just stands there, staring at Louis, looking like he's been hit by a car.
"Bye, Harry," Louis says.
It sounds final, even to his own ears.
*
"Louis."
"I'm busy."
"Louis, staring at a pile of paper is not busy. If you were grading them, you could possibly be busy. You are not busy. We're going out for dinner." Zayn's got his do not argue voice on.
Louis rubs his hand over his face. "I can't. I'm busy. I genuinely have to get these graded."
Zayn sighs and sits down on Louis's bed next to him. "Lou, come on. Let's talk."
Louis flops onto his back and starfishes out. "No. Don't you have your own problems? Let's talk about your problems. Don't internalise so much, Zayn, it's not healthy."
"Yeah, but, Louis," Zayn says, "I'm not the one here who's likely to forget to eat for days and days because I refuse to deal with what's bothering me."
"I'm dealing just fine, thank you," Louis snaps. "I'm not upset. I have no reason to be upset. He had absolutely no commitment to me. There is less than a single reason for me to be upset with him. He is eighteen, which, god, what was I thinking anyway? And being eighteen and gorgeous, he has people all over him always. I don't blame him. Good for him, really."
Zayn nods a little and lays back next to Louis. "Okay, I mean, yes. But that doesn't invalidate the way you're feeling. It doesn't invalidate the fact that you're not happy."
"I'm never happy," Louis says. "This is hardly revolutionary. If it's not this, it'd be something else. Shut up. God. Do you just have Dr. Phil hooked up to an intravenous line into your brain?"
"Louis." Zayn rolls over to face him.
Louis rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "Zayn."
"Look, hey, let me set you up, yeah? Liam broke up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago, and I know he always thought you were fit, so, like. You like Liam."
"I'm not getting set up, oh my god, will you fuck off? How old am I?"
"You need to do something! You can't just rot away under a pile of papers you're not grading." Zayn huffs a sigh.
"Whatever," Louis says. "If I go out to dinner with you, will you leave me alone?"
Giving Louis a half-smile, Zayn just says, "Maybe."
Louis groans.
*
It's office hours again, and Louis is actually writing. It's a week before the end of the semester; a week before final papers are due, and Louis has completely given up on even the swottiest of the swots asking for help. Good riddance. He might just fail everyone out of general spite.
He's writing a short story, but deviating from his theme. He's writing about two boys, one scared, and one not. It's all just a shitshow. Louis is a shitshow. He's not pretending otherwise, except to, like, Zayn. Zayn doesn't need to know that he's a shitshow, because Louis has been doing Very Well with convincing Zayn that he is Absolutely Fine.
Whatever.
Louis is in the middle of a scene where the unnamed main character is brooding. He thinks this unnamed main character broods a little bit too much. This unnamed character needs a hobby. This unnamed main character is a self-absorbed, selfish, unlikeable piece of shit. Louis should maybe make this unnamed main character a little more likable. He'll edit it later.
Too bad he can't edit himself, he thinks. He could do with a little bit more likability. He doesn't even like himself. He scrawls in the margin of his notebook: self-loathing is sooooooo unattractive.
Louis scowls down at his page. He's great. He's funny and he has a great arse. He's great. Everything is great. Leaning forward until his forehead hits the table, Louis groans into the table.
It's office hours. No one can hear him scream.
Except there’s a knock on the doorframe. Louis raises his head, and oh. Well. Shit.
Harry’s standing there, looking hesitant, nervous, tentative. “Hi,” he says quietly.
Louis wants to faceplant right back down onto the desk and resume his groaning. Instead, he says, “Hey, Harry. Paper troubles?”
“I, um. Well, no. Not as such.” Harry’s still standing in the doorway, as if waiting for an invitation. Louis holds in his sigh and nods at the chair across from him.
“What’s up, then?”
Harry shuffles over and sits down. He slides his hands under his thighs and peeks up at Louis through his fringe. “I... this is really awkward, I’m sorry. But I feel really bad about the other night and I just. I guess I wanted to explain?”
Louis smooths his expression into something he hopes is blank. Expressionless. “Harry. There’s nothing to explain. Everything is fine.”
Harry blinks a bit. “Okay,” he says doubtfully. “But, I mean, I wanted to apologise? I mean, I know that looked bad and I know I said I--”
“Harry,” Louis cuts him off. “There’s nothing to apologise for, seriously. This isn’t a conversation we should be having anyway, but I don’t want you to feel guilty for anything, because there’s nothing to feel guilty for. Don’t worry about anything.”
Harry stares at him, dubious. “I... okay. Is that, like, it? I mean...”
Louis huffs out a resigned laugh. “Do you have any questions about your paper, Harry?”
“No,” Harry says softly. “I’ll see you around, Louis.” He gets up and walks to the door, but pauses again in the doorway, turning to face Louis. “I am sorry, though, if you think I feel any differently about you now.”
Louis closes his eyes briefly. “Harry,” he whispers.
Harry just bites his lips and nods before leaving.
Swallowing his internal screaming, Louis scrawls out a quick note to tape on his door for any swots and leaves his office a half an hour before his hours are over.
He gets home and before he even unlocks the door, he hears the sound of two guitars in the living room. He wanders in, dropping his bag on the floor by the couch, and watches as Niall and Ginger Ed riff off each other. Niall’s laughing and there are empty beers on the coffee table. Louis sinks onto the floor at Niall’s feet and leans his head against his knee.
“Hey, Louis,” Niall sings, still strumming. “Louis, Louis, pretty Louis, Louis, why are you sad? Louis, Louis, don’t be sad, Louis, Louis, we love you, Louis.”
“Pretty, pretty Lou,” Ed croons, “Pretty Louis, pining over pretty Harry, pretty boys, what a pity they can’t get all kissy, pretty pretty.”
Louis turns his face into Niall’s leg and groans. “I hate both of you.”
Niall’s guitar rings out an echo, and his hand comes down to card through Louis’s hair. “Alright, baby?” he asks, softer.
“I’m fine,” he says. “What are you guys up to?”
Niall shrugs. “Just jamming. Ed’s got a show coming up, actually, Lou. You should come. We’re all going, actually, so you don’t technically have a choice.”
Ed nods. “Yeah, it should be good, actually. I’ve got some mates coming along to jam with me, and we’re just gonna have fun up there. I think you’d like it, Louis.”
Louis shrugs. “Sure, no, that sounds like fun. I’ll be there. There’ll be a bar, right?”
Ed snorts. “As if I’d play somewhere without a bar.”
Louis smiles at him. “In another world, Ed, you and I would be brothers.”
*
The last day of the semester comes all too quickly. Just two weeks ago, Louis thinks wryly, he was anticipating this day ridiculously. The days were coming too slowly. Now, it’s just another clock ticking down the minutes he’ll have to ever see Harry again.
Not that he wants to see Harry again. Right. Because he doesn’t. Because he’s Over It.
“I am over it,” Louis tells Zayn, on the Sunday night before finals week. “I am so over it that I’m not even sure what the it I’m referring to is.” He has maybe had a few beers.
Zayn nods from his window seat throne. “Oh, yeah, Lou, I believe you. Water off a duck’s back, that’s your philosophy.”
“Excuse me,” Louis says, haughty. “I do not think in idioms.”
“Whatever,” Zayn says. “I think you should talk to him.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
And there’s not. Louis isn’t devastated, he doesn’t think. He’s functioning. He thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind, he expected this. Harry was always sort of a ghost of expectation, just out of grasp. The beautiful boy sitting in the third row, smiling at him. There was the professional barrier between them, and Louis thinks he wouldn’t have crossed that line. He thinks -- hopes -- he would have had enough self control. Harry was always just a metaphor for his life, maybe. Something beautiful, something so good, just too far away. Just on another plane.
“Oi,” Zayn says, interrupting his thoughts. “If you’re gonna get lost inside your head, at least let me in. It’s literally all I want.”
Louis sighs. “There’s a penis on the blackboard in my classroom.”
Zayn blinks. “Okay,” he says. “And?”
“And, so, like, Harry’s sort of the personification of everything I want but can’t have, right, and the penis is life. Ejaculating its reality on my head. Comeshot of reality. Reality-check bukakke. It’s poetic, really,” Louis muses.
“Louis.” Zayn sounds unimpressed.
“I’m just saying!” Louis says.
“What I’m confused about, mate, is why you’re so set on the fact that Harry’s unattainable. Because the way I see it, is like. He asked you out. He approached you to explain and apologise for the night at the bar. He read and liked your writing. Which, by the way, you haven’t even let me read. He seems like a really intelligent, sweet guy. Who is into you. And you’re just sitting on my couch, whining about how you’ll never have him. So, like, I don’t get it.”
Zayn has this really fucking annoying habit of putting things in context and simultaneously making sense. Louis despises it.
“It doesn’t matter,” Louis says.
“Uh,” Zayn says. “Actually, yeah, Lou, it does. Because I am always here for you whenever you’re having problems. I will always listen to your bitching and I’ll do whatever I can to help you out, you know that. What pisses me off a bit, though, is when you create these elaborate problems in your head that have no actual basis in reality.”
“So, basically, what you’re saying is that you’re the penis ejaculating reality onto me.” Louis’s basic retaliation strategy for Zayn’s logic is to be as bitchy as possible.
Zayn rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Louis, that’s exactly what I said.”
They’re quiet for awhile. Louis runs his thumb through the condensation on his beer bottle. He picks at the label, peeling a corner of it off. Sighing, he says, “Okay, Zayn. Alright.”
Zayn leans forward a little, ashing his cigarette out the window. He nods a little at Louis with his eyes cast down.
Louis licks his lips. “Is there a term for, like, reactionary abandonment complex? Like, naturally I’ve got sidebags full of abandonment issues, but like. Preemptive abandonment. Is that a thing?”
Zayn hums around his filter. “I think that’s just. Abandonment complex. I don’t know. But go on.”
“Yeah,” Louis says, staring at his fingers. “I dunno. I, like, left my family before they could leave me. Leave me again. Or whatever. And, like. It’s just easier, you know? To stop something before it’s started. To want the unattainable, because then there’s less disappointment when it doesn’t work out? And I think that’s what I’m doing, with the Harry thing. And that’s not fair to Harry.”
Zayn looks out the window at the setting sun. It catches on his eyelashes. Louis sighs. He doesn’t deserve his friends. His friends don’t deserve having to deal with him.
“But, like,” Zayn says after a moment. “Do you like him? Like, genuinely, Louis, be straight with me. Do you like him aside from the base attraction? Do you think he’s someone you’d want to be with?”
Pulling his legs up to his chest, Louis hugs them close. He rests his forehead on his knees. “Yeah. I do.”
Humming again, Zayn says, “Yeah. Then don’t blame you being chickenshit on your daddy issues, or whatever. This is you making an active decision to not take what you want. This is pure fear.”
Louis doesn’t lift his head. “I know,” he says in a small voice. “Stop.”
There’s a rustling from the window, and then there are arms around him and lips pressing kisses into his hair. “It’ll be okay, Lou. You’re okay.”
Louis laughs a little into his knees. Yeah. He’s brilliant.
*
It’s Friday night and campus is slowly coming back to life, the library emptying out. The deep, held breath of finals week is being audibly let out.
Louis is standing in front of his mirror, frowning, playing with his fringe. He’s wearing black skinnies and his thighs look massive. His shirt won’t sit right on his shoulders. His hair looks fucking stupid.
“Niall,” he calls out pathetically.
Niall bounds into his room, cheeks already flushed. They’ve been pre-gaming for two hours.
“Niall, I look stupid.” Louis pouts at him dramatically.
Niall just looks him up and down and laughs. “You look great, Lou, shut up. You always look great. You look great when you’ve got a fever and, like, leprosy.”
Louis laughs, despite himself. “But would you fuck me?”
Niall wraps his arm around Louis’s waist and tips his head to rest against Louis’s. “Someday, Lou, it’ll be you and me. A wedding in the country, I think. Maybe the white cliffs of Dover. Honeymoon in the south of France. A brood of children. Dogs. You’ll teach pottery at the local college and I’ll coach U-8 football. We’ll be disgustingly domestic.”
Louis smiles at him. “I love you.”
Niall pinches his cheeks. “I love you more. You look gorgeous. Let’s go. We’ll get drunk and dance and generally make merry. Zayn’s meeting us there; I think he’s going with Aiden and Liam and all of them.”
“Alright.” Louis nods, patting his pockets. He has his wallet and his phone. “Let’s get wild. Another semester down.”
The bar is already packed by the time they get there, but Zayn’s with Aiden, Liam, and Greg, and they managed to snag a table. They all stand up and pass around hugs when Niall and Louis show up.
“I’ve heard good things about Ed,” Liam says.
Niall nods excitedly. “Ed’s brilliant! His EP is on sale tonight. I produced it, you know, no big deal or anything.”
Everyone rolls their eyes.
Niall laughs. “Anyway! Oi, we need shots. First round is on me, but the next one’s on Louis!”
“Hey!” Louis protests.
Niall just winks as he walks toward the bar. “In exchange for being such a whingey bastard all semester!”
Louis wrinkles his nose at the rest of them. “Rude,” he says. Zayn just snorts.
After four rounds of shots, Ed finally takes the stage. “Helloooooo, motherfuckers!” he yells into the mic. Everyone yells back. Louis is just a touch past Very Drunk. It’s wonderful.
Ed and his band start in on their set and Niall grabs Louis’s hand, dragging him to the dancefloor in front of the stage. Standing behind Louis, Niall wraps his arms around his waist and starts swaying them to the beat. Louis smiles to himself and leans back to rest his head on Niall’s shoulder. “Really love you, man,” he yells into Niall’s ear.
Niall smiles down at him and squeezes him a little tighter. “Glad you’re here,” he yells back.
Louis grins. He is too. He needed this. He needs to, like, rediscover himself, or something. Find a balance between too fun -- cocaine was never his drug, really -- and deathly boring. He needs to learn how to not live in such a state of extremes.
Ed’s voice is soothing, accented, and his songs are heavily acoustic. Louis feels his eyelids getting heavy, and Niall is warm behind him. It’s good. It’s the best he’s felt in a long time.
Somewhere in the middle of the set, Ed’s talking to the crowd, and he says, “I’m gonna get some help from a mate of mine for this next one. Styles, get your little booty up here.”
Louis’s eyes fly open and his body tenses. Niall’s hands don’t let go of him and Louis is privately grateful for that. Louis watches with wide eyes as Harry walks out onto the stage. He’s wearing a white teeshirt with a big flannel overshirt and impossibly skinny jeans. His hair is a mess and his lips are pulled into a lazy smile as he gives Ed a quick hug.
“Hey, everyone,” Harry says, voice smooth, low, and slow. “‘M Harry, and Ed and I are gonna be singing a song called Little Bird. And I’m gonna go out on a limb here and dedicate it to someone in this audience who probably doesn’t want me to name him. Or even speak to him again, maybe. But. You win some, you lose some, I guess. So, yeah. This is for you.” Harry’s eyes are dark, scanning the crowd with intent, and when they find Louis, his lips quirk up, half rueful, half pleased.
Louis has no idea what his face is doing, but he’s pretty sure he’s got an ace impression of a fish going on.
The song starts with a catchy beat and jangling guitars and Harry’s voice comes in on the harmonies and Louis wants to close his eyes again, wants to suspend himself in Harry’s low, rough voice, but he can’t. He can’t stop watching Harry. Harry, leaning into the mic, eyes closed. Harry, with his big hands wrapped around the mic stand. Harry’s foot tapping to the beat. Harry under the lights, lit up like he was born to be onstage.
Zayn comes up to them sometime in the middle of the song, touching Louis’s elbow in greeting. He doesn’t hide his pleased smile and Louis just gives him a small, warm smile back.
When the set’s over, Niall kisses Louis’s hair and melts away into the crowd, probably to get more drinks. Zayn raises an eyebrow at Louis. “Gonna talk to him now?”
Louis bites his bottom lip. “I should, probably.”
Zayn just nods. “I’m not gonna lecture you, Lou. I’m not some fucking Jedi Master here. Just, you know. Nothing wrong with being happy, and, like. I’m pretty sure that boy wants to make you happy.”
Louis pulls a face. “I feel like I’m in some kind of fucking rom-com.”
“Whatever,” Zayn says. “Appreciate it. Those generally have happy endings.” He gives Louis and encouraging slap on the arse. “Go find your boy.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles. Zayn goes off back to the table and Louis stands in the middle of the fading crowd on the dancefloor. He shakes himself and steels up to go find Harry. He takes a step forward and promptly bumps straight into a broad body.
“Oh, so--” Louis stops. Harry’s standing in front of him, bright red lip pulled between his teeth, eyes wide. Nervous.
“Hi,” Louis says.
“Hi,” Harry says back, smiling a little. “I’m, um. Glad you’re here.”
“Yeah,” Louis says, shaking his head. “You’re good. Shit, Harry. You’re really good.”
Laughing softly, Harry looks at his feet. “Um. Thanks. Can we, um, talk?”
Louis nods and grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him toward the door. Once they’re outside, the cold air hits Louis like a tidal wave. He shivers a little.
“So,” Louis says. “I want to apologise, I guess.”
Harry’s head jerks up, alarmed. “No, no, Louis, wait, I want to--”
Louis cuts him off, holding his hand up. “No, me first.” He waits for Harry to nod before continuing. “I fucked up a lot here. I excused it at the beginning with some sort of, like, justification that I was your TA and you were untouchable, which was true, but beyond that I was just, like, scared, I guess. And I wasn’t open with you about that, I guess. Which. I mean. We weren’t anything. And I guess we’re still not? Unless you want to be. But, like, I don’t know. You got too close to parts of me I don’t really let people see and that freaked me out, because I kind of liked it. So. I’m kind of a mess and I pushed you away without really explaining why. So. I’m sorry.”
Harry’s fiddling with the cuff of his shirt, staring down. He nods. “It’s... no, Louis. I mean, I kind of figured I was pushing a little too hard. Ed and I have a joke that you’re kind of a startled deer.”
“Oi,” Louis says. Harry smiles.
“No, but like. I don’t know. Seeing you that night at the bar kind of shook me a little, because I did really want to be with you. I do really want to be with you. But I think I didn’t really take it seriously? Or take you seriously, I guess? Because, shit, Louis. You’re older, gorgeous, brilliant, hilarious... you’re like...” Harry trails off, laughing to himself. “You’re like perfect.”
Louis huffs a small laugh and nudges his knee against Harry’s. “That was pretty much my exact justification for why you wouldn’t want to be with me. Except, like, reversed. And younger. God, Harry.”
Harry smiles at him again, all wide green eyes and pale skin and dark curls. Louis has something squeezing at his gut and for once, he’s not entirely sure that it’s unpleasant. He takes a chance and reaches his hand out to grab at Harry’s. “So,” Louis says, smiling down at his feet. “You still want to take me out to dinner?”
Taking a step closer until their toes are touching and Louis has to tilt his head back to meet Harry’s eyes, Harry says, “I think I’d maybe like nothing more.”
Louis drops Harry’s hand and takes a deep breath before settling his hands on Harry’s hips, still gazing up into his eyes. Harry’s lips widen into a small, private smile and he brings his own hands up to slot his fingers between the gaps of Louis’s ribs.
“Will you think I’m easy if I kiss you before I take you out?” Harry whispers.
Louis pretends to think about it for a moment, before saying, “Nah, I’ll let it slide this time.”
“Oh, good,” Harry murmurs, and leans in.