you always make it hard for me to stop (h/l, pg-13, 2/2)
you always make it hard for me to stop, part two.
PART ONE
His team makes it out with eight Top 60 contestants and they celebrate with pizza in Paul's room. Louis also takes the opportunity to run down the hallway a couple of times just for the hell of it and is giddy for much of the night. The Trier team comes back an hour after they do and Louis does his best at restraining himself from bragging about the eight Top 60 competitors compared to Trier's six. Inside, he is gloating, but he figures he shouldn't ruin anyone's night. He tries to look for Harry but he must have slipped by him because he doesn't see him.
Harry sneaks up on him a few minutes later, and Louis shrieks a little, his heart calming down once he realizes that it's only Harry.
"It's only me," he says and then giggles. Louis pinches his arm in retaliation. "Ow. That was mean. Kiss it better." He holds out his arm for Louis and Louis shakes his head first but then ducks down and smacks a loud kiss to his forearm.
"Happy?" Louis asks.
"It feels much better, thank you," Harry says seriously. He sits down against the wall and peers up at Louis, who is still standing. "Come down here."
Louis obliges, sinking down to the floor. Their knees are touching. No one else is in the hallway, but he hears the music from Paul's room down at the end of the hallway. "So."
"So." Harry knocks his knee against Louis'.
"So. How's breaking your first year in feel?"
"Pretty fucking fantastic," Harry admits, laughing a little. "I never thought I would. Maybe I read my code wrong. Saw 6A instead of 16A or something."
Louis has no idea but it's probably a bad idea to suggest he did. "Nah, someone would've told you otherwise by now."
"Reassuring, thanks." Harry is playing with his own fingers. Louis wants to reach out and tangle their fingers together.
"Sorry," Louis says bashfully. He does not tangle their fingers together.
"It's fine. I mean, this is my first year and I can't believe that I made it but I don't have my eyes set for finals. I wanted to do my supplemental event," Harry shrugs. Normally, Louis would have looked at him in horror for suggesting such low goals, but Harry has a point. Harry is also pretty, but that is decidedly a non-factor.
"That is?"
"Prose." They fall silent after that. Louis tries to summon up the courage to reach out for his hand. "Hey, Louis?"
"Hey, Harry?"
"I like you a lot." Louis freezes because he knows what he's trying to say and he has not thought about that all. He's known Harry for a total of approximately three days. Almost four.
"Yeah?" He tries to settle his heartbeat.
"Yep." Harry pops the 'p' obnoxiously. Louis feels a lot better for some reason.
"You're not bad." He stops Harry's protest by kissing him. They spend a lot of time in the hallway kissing.
Sandra Silvers Memorial Duo Interpretation
ROUND
9 - 8:00 AM
10 - 10:00 AM 12:00 PM
11 - 2:00 PM
12 - 4:00 PM
Dramatic Interpretation
ROUND
9 - 8:00 AM
10 - 10:00 AM
11 - 2:00 PM
12 - 4:00 PM
The next day is a shitstorm. Louis supposes it's only fair that at some point, the smooth machine of the Committee has to falter. It would've been a lot better if it had started sputtering with any other event but Duo. He has no idea how a group that tightly organized can just up and lose the ballots from one of the rounds, but apparently it's fucking possible. The pairs in that round have to redo it, which puts Round 10 two hours behind schedule. Louis now has two extra hours of nothing to do. He's complaining about this to Harry in as dramatic a fashion as possible. Zayn is sitting next to him shaking his head to let him know it's not as bad as it sounds.
"Basically, we're fucked," Louis finishes with a loud sigh. The audience that he has captured during his storytelling starts to disperse, which is quite rude of them, since they didn't even applaud. It was the least they could do to show their gratitude for a well told story. He does get two half hearted rounds of applause from Harry and Zayn at least. After taking a short bow, at which only Harry giggles about, he flops back onto the seat. "I'm bored."
"It's only a few more hours, Louis," Zayn says, patting him on the back. Louis shuffles closer to him on instinct. Harry frowns.
"A few more boring hours," he shoots back. He looks to Harry to back him up, but he's standing up.
"Well, unlike you guys, tab hasn't messed up drama so I gotta go to my round right now," Harry says. Louis is not happy with this news. He wants Harry to stay and entertain him and if he leaves, how he can be entertained?
"Wait, can we go to your round too?" Zayn asks. Louis turns and looks at him, surprise evident on his face. He never thought about it, but he has been wondering how Harry is as a performer. He'd never think of him in DI, but maybe he's different with his piece. He's also wanted to assess his talent for himself.
It's suddenly a really good idea. "Oh, can we?" Louis says, pouting at Harry. "We'll sit in the back and be really good spectators.
Harry sighs. "Do I have a choice?"
"You do --"
"Zayn means technically yes, but you know I'll just follow you to the room." He tries on an innocent face. Harry nods in resignation and Louis jumps in glee and presses a sloppy kiss to his forehead.
Harry is the fourth performer in the round. When he's just waiting for his turn, he's very chill, his hands clasped together on the desk and his attention focused on each previous contestant. He reminds Louis a lot of himself when he started - same polite interest (although Harry's might be actual interest, he's not sure), same enthusiasm.
When 16A is called, he smiles bashfully at the judges, announces the title of his selection in his slow voice, and waits for the judges to tell him they're ready. Louis catches his eye and gives him a quick thumbs up; he swears Harry brightens.
Harry's good. Harry's really good. He watches his quick movements and his smooth pops, listens to his character voices, and pays attention to how involved he is with his piece. He has a few problems with the overall polish, but he can see how Harry qualified and made Top 60. He's honestly very impressed by him and tells him that when the round is over, dropping back in step to walk next to Harry.
"You were, uh, great," Louis says, nodding to emphasize his point. "I really liked it."
Harry ducks his head and Louis screams internally. "You have no idea how much that means to me."
Louis doesn't know what to say to that, so he resorts to laughing a bit nervously. "Just telling you my thoughts, you know."
"It means a lot. Thank you," Harry says earnestly. Everything about Harry is earnest. His eyes are earnest. His smile is earnest. His face is earnest. Harry is earnest. Louis wants to kiss the earnest look off his face.
He settles for intertwining their fingers and squeezing slightly before he lets go and jogs to catch up with Zayn.
They make it to quarterfinals. Top 15 in the nation. Louis kisses Zayn on his face and then kisses Harry on his lips and again as consolation when he finds out Harry didn't make it. Harry doesn't take it bad at all. Turns out it wasn't all talk. He is actually one of those "I'm just really glad to have been here" kinds of people. After that, he unofficially becomes Zayn and Louis' personal cheerleader.
His smile is the brightest in the audience of the quarterfinals round and Louis feeds off that energy. Their performance is spectacular.
Louis almost falls to his knees in happiness when he sees J170 as one of the twelve teams that have made it into Duo semifinals. This is the farthest he and Zayn have ever advanced and he's shaking. He simultaneously wants to bounce off the walls and crawl under his blankets and sleep. It's some time past 7 PM, he hasn't eaten in three hours, and he's running on a few hours of sleep. Zayn has to be feeling the same way.
"We're so fucking close," Louis says to Zayn, as everyone starts leaving to go to rounds. Zayn nods, the exhaustion apparent in his face. Harry's waiting a few feet away. Harry's a good person.
"We're gonna make finals," Zayn says eventually. "We're going to go to finals."
Louis gives him a tired, lopsided grin. "Finals, huh?"
"If you're up for it."
"We're partners, remember? Couldn't possibly leave you behind." Zayn grins and bumps his fist in response.
"Where's your boy Harry fit in?" he teases, and Harry maybe has super hearing abilities because he jerks his head up and looks in their direction.
Louis hasn't gotten over the habit of blushing when it comes to the subject of Harry yet. He's working on it, but he's had a bit more pressing matters to attend to recently. "Shut up," he grumbles. "Can we go now?"
Zayn keeps laughing even as they meet up with Harry.
"I can't do this, I can't take this waiting anymore." Louis is laying on his back in the posting area, staring at the ceiling. Semifinals went fine. He doesn't have any strong feelings this or that way, mostly because he's so fucking exhausted. He's been up since 6 AM and it's already 9 PM. He hasn't eaten in hours. He needs to call his mom, but he doesn't want to talk to her until he knows if they've advanced. He really needs something to eat.
"They should be out any minute now," Harry offers. His head is resting on Louis' chest, his own body laying in a ninety degree angle to Louis. "Patience, patience."
"Fuck off," Louis says weakly. Harry grins and blows a raspberry against his shirt. Gross. Gross and not cute.
Zayn comes back with three sandwiches and three Cokes and tosses two of them to Harry, who catches them easily. He offers one of the sandwiches to Louis, but Louis declines. He thought he was really hungry but his stomach is too bundled up with nerves. He'd probably throw up all over.
"Zayn?" Zayn looks up from his phone at Louis' voice. "No matter what, we've had an amazing run --"
"Shut up, Lou. Don't count us out before we're out."
"I'm not! I'm trying to be heartfelt!"
"You're doing a poor job at it. I love you and I love what we've done and I just want to eat this sandwich in peace --" Zayn trails off when one of the tournament administrators walks into the room and they all fall quiet. The atmosphere is tense and suffocating. Louis sits up, bringing Harry along with him.
"Congratulations to the National finalists," the administrator says simply, and 10 vertical banners unfold from the ceiling. Louis only cares about one banner, his eyes darting to the one that holds the 6 codes of the Duo Interpretation finalists.
J134
J156
J164
J170
J181
J185
"Zayn," he says weakly, after what seem like minutes, after what seems like a battle to find his voice again. "Zayn."
"I know, Lou. I know." With that affirmation from Zayn, Louis tackles him to the ground in an ecstatic hug and there's incoherent yelling and crying, Paul's trying to pull the two apart to congratulate them, and the rest of the team is piling on top of each other in celebration. Louis feels like this is all a dream, a perfect fantasy where he and Zayn have just made finals and he has his team around him and a Harry looking fondly on. Zayn tackles him again and Louis laughs as the air is knocked out of him and thinks, Yeah, so much better than a dream.
They don't have to be anywhere until 11 AM the next morning so what does it matter if Louis is spending his time ordering room service and watching movies in Harry's room? He's technically not supposed to order anything because the school is paying for it, but hello, he's a National Finalist, they can cut him some slack there.
"You know," Harry starts, reaching over to snatch some chips from Louis. Louis hisses at him. "People could consider this a date. We've got food and a movie and we're in a hotel room alone..."
"No funny business, Styles," Louis admonishes, guarding the bag of chips from Harry's reach. "And it's not a date. It's a celebration of mine and Zayn's fantastic success."
"Zayn's not even here."
"Only because he's sick of me and wants to soak in the hot tub." Louis sniffs sadly to add dramatic effect. Harry just pats his shoulder.
"So really, it's not exactly a celebration --"
"Harry." Louis feels a prickling in the back of his neck. "Just drop --"
"Yeah, yeah. Can we watch a different movie?" Harry asks, gesturing to the tv screen. They're watching Rudy, last they checked, and not only does Louis love this movie, there also isn't much else on. He takes a look at Harry, who looks sleepily content next to him, head on his shoulder and arm looped through Louis'.
"Have at it," Louis concedes, tossing him the remote. Harry smiles lazily and flips through the channels before settling on some other film. Louis isn't sure what it is and doesn't make any effort to find out what it is. Harry doesn't either, especially when he falls asleep halfway through it, curling up close to Louis. He smooths down Harry's flyaway curls and drags the sheets over the two of them before falling asleep next to him.
Louis has a crick in his neck when he wakes up. A quick scramble for his phone tells him it's 9:38 AM and before he calls for Zayn, he remembers he fell asleep with Harry last night. Shit. He tears the sheets off him, which jostles Harry awake with a mumbled "What?" and Louis apologizes.
"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to sleep here last night, should've gone back --" Louis is rambling now, as he pockets his phone and runs a hand through his hair. He needs a shower and he needs to go back to his room.
"S'fine," Harry mumbles against the pillow. "Not late or anything, right?"
"Not late, no, just --"
"Yeah, go on, just..." Harry pops his head up, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. "See you later?"
Louis can't help but grin. "You better be in that audience where I can see you."
"As if you guys can go without your good luck charm," Harry says with a sleepy smile. Louis kisses him quickly before walking out, Harry's loud "You're such a heartbreaker, Tomlinson!" following him. Brian totally sees him exiting from Harry's room, but Louis just flips him off.
Standing on that stage, even just for sound and light check, sends a chill down Louis' spine. He feels the goosebumps rise as he looks out into the ballroom. The seats are empty but he imagines them filled, as they will be later on, his team sitting a few rows behind the judges, Paul looking proudly at them. He lifts his head up so Lissa, the tech girl, can adjust the mic positioning and he thinks, Jesus Christ, because six hours from now, he'll be back on the stage, actually being filmed and observed and judged because he's actually a Nationals finalist. There is a possibility he might pee his pants (right now, of course, not when it actually matters, but Lissa might object to that point).
Once they're done, they're ushered backstage, where they have an hour lecture about where they're supposed to stay before their event, where they can and can't go, and what time to report to the ballroom. Louis sends nonsensical texts to Harry instead.
Bored save me
This guy's beard is out of control
Trying to take a sneaky pic . not working
did you get it
Text me back I'm bored
He gets one response from Harry (Hahahahahahahahahaha sucks to be you, National Finalist.). What a little shit.
Zayn and Louis run through their piece one more time in front of Paul and the team but that's the last they touch of it before 7 PM. His stomach has been fostering some low-grade nerves the entire day, but they've manifested themselves in an excited energy. Thirty minutes before their event finals, they get called to the backstage area and are fitted with their mics and National finalist ribbons.
The minutes tick by quickly. He hears the audience in a collective whisper and wonders where Harry is sitting. He wishes he could go check his phone, see if there's a message from him, but Paul's taken it already. Their performance is slated to go fourth, and as soon as the third duo team goes on, Louis lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
He turns to Zayn, reaches out to adjust his tie, makes sure to avoid messing up the mic. He asks, "Ready?"
"You and me, Lou. Always," Zayn says back, his voice certain. He grabs for Louis' hand and kisses his knuckles and Louis breathes out again. Two minutes until showtime.
When the announcer calls out their code and title, Louis kisses Zayn's knuckles quickly and they walk out onto the stage. The lights are blinding, the crowd is full, their team flashes them double thumbs up, and Harry is sitting a few rows back, with Trier, smiling like always. There are no scowls on Trier's faces, not even Brian's. Louis has only a few seconds to take it all in before they begin.
He's knocking on Harry's door later that night, loud, quick raps against the door.
Where are you !!, he texts to Harry before flipping his phone in his hand. There's too much going on for him to stop moving about, and he wanted to find Harry to help him relax, but that plan doesn't work without a Harry in question.
The worst part about about speech finals being Friday is that he still has too many hours to suffer through before the awards the next day. This means he has plenty of time to stew in every little mistake he thinks he made, which makes him incredibly grumpy. It makes him hard to be around actual people. Every word out of his mouth is a variation of "What did you think of [insert scene here]?" He tries to sleep until it's 5 PM the next day, but his mind won't let him. Being around Zayn doesn't help either because they just make each other's thoughts worse and for the time being, Paul has banned them from hanging out, just so they can (try to) relax. Louis hates Paul for trying to be helpful.
"Stop trying to break down my door," Harry says, a few feet away and looking bemused.
"Harry! There you are! Been looking everywhere for you!" He moves aside to make room for Harry to slide his room key in to open the door. Once he does, he bounds inside and jumps on the bed a couple of times. He stops at the edge to pull Harry up with him and he follows without complaint, laughing while Louis leads him into an impromptu dance. Even without music to guide them, it's more fast paced than a regular slow dance, with absolutely no pattern to it. One second he's swaying with Harry, another second he's waving Harry's arms from side to side.
Their laughter blends together, loud and boisterous, and Louis keeps going on his tiptoes to press kisses against Harry's jaw. Harry's ticklish, he finds out, and he loves it. Harry retaliates by running his fingers up and down his sides and Louis tries to squirm away from the vicious attack but only ends up toppling them both over on the bed with muffled oofs.
"Way to go, Styles," Louis says to the ceiling.
Harry gasps. "Hey, you made us fall."
"Uh, no," Louis disagrees. "You didn't need to retaliate, okay?"
"I'm not gonna win this battle, am I?" Harry turns so he's facing him and Louis mirrors the action. He has lighter flecks of color in his eyes and a faint smattering of freckles across his nose. Harry's fringe falls into his eyes as he shifts on the bed and he has a bad habit of pushing it back so it's out of his way.
Louis taps him on the nose twice and replies, "Right you are!"
There's a soft hmph of mixed indignation and resignation from Harry. Just how Louis likes it. He nudges at Harry's ankle with his own and Harry elbows him playfully. A punch here, a flick there. Soon enough, they're a tangle of limbs, of mouths hovering over mouths, fingers tangled together. Louis strokes Harry's thumb and enjoys the silence of the room.
Harry breaks the silence. "Hey Louis?"
"Hey Harry?"
"Are we like doing something here?"
Louis feels dread coil down his spine. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.
"What do you mean?" He tries to roll over onto his back so he can escape Harry's strong gaze but every time he tries, he just can't.
"Like, is this just for fun or are we going to keep seeing each other when this is over?" He has a neutral expression on and his fingers are tight around Louis'.
Louis is quiet for a while, possibly too much of a while, because Harry starts backtracking. "Sorry, sorry, that was probably too much, I know we only --"
"No, sorry," Louis cuts in. He pulls his hand away apologetically. His palms are sweaty. How long have they been sweaty? "I just. Don't really know. Sorry. Just, there's a lot happening and I haven't really..." His attempt at a smile falls short.
"Thought about it," Harry finishes. Louis can't read his expression - it's skillfully absent of anything telling.
"It's been a hell of a week, Harry," he says. He's finally pushed himself into an upright position. It doesn't wash away the guilt.
"I know, I went through it with you, remember?" It's entirely teasing in its intention and execution, but Louis still feels like he's in the wrong. He isn't in the wrong. He had never promised Harry anything and they barely knew each other and he had had finals in his head all week. He needed room to breathe.
Louis doesn't answer and he must have a look on his face that invites comment because Harry quickly says, "Honestly, I didn't mean to bring it up at all, it just happened and I know there are so many more important things to be thinking about." He reaches for Louis' hand again and he lets him lace their fingers together.
He looks down at their fingers and thinks that they look good together. "Give me time to think?" Louis finally says. He feels Harry squeeze his hand.
"You don't have to think too much about it. Someone's got awards tomorrow." Louis groans at how nice he's being.
"Stop being so fucking understanding, you idiot," he complains. "You suck." Harry seems very satisfied with that because he's a cheerful loser who would be happy with that.
"I'll take that as a compliment and also can we go bother Zayn?" It's like he already knows the way to Louis' heart.
"Yes," Louis approves. "But first!" Without further notice, he pushes Harry onto his back, falling into the set of pillows, and kisses him hard, licking his way into his mouth. Harry kisses back with enthusiasm, taken back at first due to the surprise, but quickly adjusts, drawing him closer. Louis actually struggles to pull back due to Harry's grip, but he's successful. Harry makes a whining sound, to which Louis acknowledges only with a small kiss on the tip of Harry's nose.
"Up and at 'em, Styles, let's go!"
"I don't like you anymore."
They stay in their respective rooms that night but Louis does not sleep. Instead, he spends the night tossing and turning because he feels the weight of figuring out what he wants with Harry pressing against him. It's funny that he will be finding out if they've won the championship in a few hours, but all he can focus on is Harry's stupid understanding words and his stupid eyes and hair and supportive cheerleading and lips. He's known Harry for not even a full week and spent the first day convinced he was a Trier spy. He doesn't know all that much about him apart from the facts he's tucked away inside his brain. He doesn't know what Harry wants from him and he doesn't know how they'd even manage outside of these circumstances.
But.
It's not an unappealing thought, wanting this to be more. It's not as if Harry's asking for the world. It's not a life commitment. It's just an offer for more. Harry is friendly and polite and encouraging and also bright and ambitious and impressive and he wants to know more about him, wants to see more of him, wants more of him. It's an easy conclusion from a long internal fight. He supposes that it's always been an easy conclusion, something he would've known before if he had let himself actually think about it.
By the time he finally falls asleep, it's 5 AM and he's gone through almost ten different scenarios of how to tell Harry his conclusion. He sleeps with a smile lost in the sheets and wakes up at noon. Looking over at the other bed, he spots Zayn on his laptop.
"Judgment Day," Zayn says, without looking away from the screen.
Shit. Awards tonight. "In it to win it," Louis says. Zayn shoots him a crooked grin.
"Let's get lunch after you get up. I'm starving."
"'Kay," Louis says. He's vaguely aware of his own hunger. "Guess what?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Think I'm gonna ask Harry out on a date." He waits for Zayn's reaction.
"What do you call all the times you've hung out with him in his single hotel room?" Zayn asks, accompanying his question with a wag of his eyebrows.
"Celebration of our Nationals success," Louis answers defiantly. Zayn laughs for a few minutes but he stops long enough to tell him it's a good idea.
Turns out the universe is conspiring against his attempts to ask Harry out properly. By the time Zayn and Louis leave for lunch, it's 1:30 and they stay at the restaurant until 3:30. They have to hurry back to the hotel before 4, when the finalists are supposed to be all dressed and ready to report to the ballroom in advance for the awards. Louis manages to send a text ('make some time for me ??') to Harry before he has to pocket it.
From backstage, they can hear the buzz of the audience filing into the ballroom, getting louder as the awards ceremony gets closer to starting. Louis is going entirely by the cues from the assistants who will tell them when to walk on stage. He's very grateful because he can't even think straight with how hard his heart is pounding. The other duo finalists keep trying to make small talk with each other and failing, preferring to pace around instead. Louis keeps readjusting his tie. Zayn looks like he's going to be sick. Sometime later, he gets pushed into a single file line behind Zayn, half listening to the woman in charge tell them they're about to go on.
He grabs for Zayn's hand as the head of the National Forensic League booms out, "Please welcome the finalists in Duo Interpretation to the stage!" The line starts moving until they're at the center and Louis is greeted with the familiar brightness of the lights in his face. He doesn't know where their team is or where Harry is. He's thinking about closing his eyes until this is all over; Zayn is crushing his hand.
"It is with great pride that the National Forensic League announces your finalists in Duo Interpretation. In sixth place are Ann Griswold and Ellie Banks from Colorado Springs High school, coached by Hilary Peterson!" Louis feels himself let go of Zayn's hand to clap for Ann and Ellie, who walk by them to collect their trophies. He hopes he's smiling pleasantly; all he can feel is the startling relief that the names called out weren't theirs.
He repeats the process for fifth and fourth place and doesn't dare let himself hope. His heart is pounding and he's sure everyone can hear it. He can't see a fucking thing in the audience.
Third place goes to Ryan Larson and Cory Grant, Bellvue High School, coach Karen Alexander.
Time stands still. Louis still can't breathe.
"The National Runners up in Duo Interpretation are..."
Louis doesn't think holding his breath will actually help him breathe but he tries it anyways. "Elizabeth Emerson and Benjamin Hill, from Lakeside Prep, coached by Sam Hill and Felicity Arthur!"
In that second after Elizabeth and Ben's names are announced, Louis and Zayn accept the hugs they offer in congratulations. After that, as Elizabeth and Ben pass them, he hears the loud applause that often comes within the gap between the runners up and the champions. There's a long pause before their names are officially announced in which their arms go around each other, Zayn lifting Louis up and he wonders if he's crying. He's honestly so numb with happiness he can't tell at all.
"And your National Champions in Duo Interpretation are Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson, from Lincoln High School, coached by Paul Higgins!"
They have to take official pictures in their leis and cowboy hats (the latter sticking with the Dallas theme) which makes them look ridiculous but what's a little embarrassment when they've just won the National Championship? The ceremony is long over by the time they're finally released back into the wild and their team is waiting for them, all of them with ecstatic looks on their faces. Gary looks like he's been crying and Louis feels a wave of affection for him. There's still a pretty sizable crowd of people left from the ceremony, catching up with their own champions and trying to organize last minute things.
"All hail the conquering heroes!" someone shouts and the team bursts into applause. Louis takes a wide bow and grins.
"Let us see the hardware!" Leigh Anne pipes in, poking her head out from behind Danny's shoulder. She makes grabby hands for the trophies and Louis is feeling very generous (and happy, very very happy) so he hands it over delicately, with the strongest possible warnings that should any scratch appear anywhere on the trophy, he will seek revenge.
Needless to say, it starts making its way to every team member's hands, making Louis wince every single time anyone (and he sees everyone) touches it with anything but the most delicate touch. "Gary, be careful with that, don't just tug --" He's interrupted by a tap on his shoulder and when he whirls around, he sees Harry, his hands clasped together behind his back and a small smile on his face.
"Hi," Harry says.
"Hi," Louis says, a bit breathlessly. He tugs at his lei, feeling more than a bit silly with it on, along with the hat.
"So, can I tell everyone I know a National Champion?" he asks, reaching out to tug at the lei as well. Louis laughs, feeling the nervous excitement wash away into a content assurance.
"Yeah, go brag away," he answers. "So..."
Harry's smiling like he knows what he's going to say. "So."
"I was thinking and... if you were free sometime, I thought we could go see a movie. Or I'd take you somewhere to eat. Or you know, anything," Louis says slowly, faltering a little. He's running the flowers of the lei between his fingers and he shouldn't feel more nervous about this than for a round, but at the moment, he is.
Harry bites back a smile and tries to school his face into a neutral expression. "As a celebration of your success?"
Louis blushes - it does sound ridiculous now that someone else has said it. "Nope. As a date."
"Then you're on," Harry finally answers. He plucks the cowboy hat off Louis' head and places it onto his own. "I'll be taking this too."
Louis would protest but he really doesn't like the hat so Harry can have it.
His trophy enters his line of sight at that moment as Leigh Anne sidles up next to him and waves it in front of his face.
"Just returning this to Your Majesty," she says as if she hadn't just given Louis a heart attack of the highest caliber. He takes it out of her hands and holds it close, glaring at her once he has it safe and secure in his arms.
"You're never touching this ever again," he warns, but she's already moved onto a new subject as soon as she sees Harry.
"Why, hello, Harry! Nice to see you! You've been hanging around a lot. I would think there's love in the air, except Captain here is really into the rivalry," she says, very matter-of-factly, a smug look on her face pointed at Louis. He wonders if he could get rid of her without anyone wondering what happened and pinpointing it on him.
"I think the rivalry ship has sailed," is all Harry says, which launches Leigh Anne into another round of teasing aimed at Louis.
"Can't you go bother someone else --"
"Tomlinson," a voice interrupts. Louis turns around to see Brian looking very uncomfortable.
"Brian," Louis returns, a little confused.
"Er, congratulations to you and Malik on winning. It's good to see someone from the state win," Brian says. He offers a hand to Louis, looking even more uncomfortable while doing so, and Louis shakes it with the hand that's not clutching onto the trophy.
"Thanks a lot, Brian. Good job this week," he says, because Brian had made it to semifinals. "S'been a good four years. You were a good rival."
"Not a thing," Zayn says, shaking his head as he walks up next to them. Brian extends the same hand to Zayn and he shakes it as well.
"Definitely a thing," Louis argues, but it's mostly for appearance's sake now. Brian nods in agreement. Zayn just rolls his eyes, so does everyone else in earshot.
"We're going to get something to eat now. Harry, wanna join us?" Zayn asks, looking back at Harry, who's engaged in a conversation with Leigh Anne. She's probably just making fun of Louis. Harry nods. Once he gets his affirmation, Zayn turns back to Brian. "How about it, Brian? Put the rivalry away?"
Brian looks at Zayn in plain discomfort and then at Louis, who shares the same look. "Uh, I'm good. Have fun!" After he hurries off, Louis slaps Zayn's arm for the gall to invite his Worst Enemy to dinner with the team.
"Sorry, babe, wanted to see your reaction," he says. Louis is not very amused.
"I'm not very amused."
"I'll buy you ice cream, okay? A little thanks for being a great partner gift," he suggests, throwing an arm around Louis' shoulders.
"You're so sentimental," Louis whines, pretending to shrug out of Zayn's grasp, but actually gives him a quick side hug to show him he's joking, but Zayn already knew that.
"Hey, I'm getting jealous over here," Harry pipes in, poking Louis in the stomach. Louis moves the trophy to his front to ward off any other attacks.
"I can't help it if everyone wants a piece of me," he says, his nose upturned. "I am a National Champion after all." There's a collective groan behind him. Rude. He contributes so much and asks for so little and his team can't even offer him a little support.
"Can someone take his trophy away before he starts using it as an excuse for everything he does?" Jesy asks.
"Too late," Louis replies, keeping the trophy close to his body. They can pry it from his cold, dead hands as far as he's concerned.
PART ONE
His team makes it out with eight Top 60 contestants and they celebrate with pizza in Paul's room. Louis also takes the opportunity to run down the hallway a couple of times just for the hell of it and is giddy for much of the night. The Trier team comes back an hour after they do and Louis does his best at restraining himself from bragging about the eight Top 60 competitors compared to Trier's six. Inside, he is gloating, but he figures he shouldn't ruin anyone's night. He tries to look for Harry but he must have slipped by him because he doesn't see him.
Harry sneaks up on him a few minutes later, and Louis shrieks a little, his heart calming down once he realizes that it's only Harry.
"It's only me," he says and then giggles. Louis pinches his arm in retaliation. "Ow. That was mean. Kiss it better." He holds out his arm for Louis and Louis shakes his head first but then ducks down and smacks a loud kiss to his forearm.
"Happy?" Louis asks.
"It feels much better, thank you," Harry says seriously. He sits down against the wall and peers up at Louis, who is still standing. "Come down here."
Louis obliges, sinking down to the floor. Their knees are touching. No one else is in the hallway, but he hears the music from Paul's room down at the end of the hallway. "So."
"So." Harry knocks his knee against Louis'.
"So. How's breaking your first year in feel?"
"Pretty fucking fantastic," Harry admits, laughing a little. "I never thought I would. Maybe I read my code wrong. Saw 6A instead of 16A or something."
Louis has no idea but it's probably a bad idea to suggest he did. "Nah, someone would've told you otherwise by now."
"Reassuring, thanks." Harry is playing with his own fingers. Louis wants to reach out and tangle their fingers together.
"Sorry," Louis says bashfully. He does not tangle their fingers together.
"It's fine. I mean, this is my first year and I can't believe that I made it but I don't have my eyes set for finals. I wanted to do my supplemental event," Harry shrugs. Normally, Louis would have looked at him in horror for suggesting such low goals, but Harry has a point. Harry is also pretty, but that is decidedly a non-factor.
"That is?"
"Prose." They fall silent after that. Louis tries to summon up the courage to reach out for his hand. "Hey, Louis?"
"Hey, Harry?"
"I like you a lot." Louis freezes because he knows what he's trying to say and he has not thought about that all. He's known Harry for a total of approximately three days. Almost four.
"Yeah?" He tries to settle his heartbeat.
"Yep." Harry pops the 'p' obnoxiously. Louis feels a lot better for some reason.
"You're not bad." He stops Harry's protest by kissing him. They spend a lot of time in the hallway kissing.
Sandra Silvers Memorial Duo Interpretation
ROUND
9 - 8:00 AM
10 - 10:00 AM 12:00 PM
11 - 2:00 PM
12 - 4:00 PM
Dramatic Interpretation
ROUND
9 - 8:00 AM
10 - 10:00 AM
11 - 2:00 PM
12 - 4:00 PM
The next day is a shitstorm. Louis supposes it's only fair that at some point, the smooth machine of the Committee has to falter. It would've been a lot better if it had started sputtering with any other event but Duo. He has no idea how a group that tightly organized can just up and lose the ballots from one of the rounds, but apparently it's fucking possible. The pairs in that round have to redo it, which puts Round 10 two hours behind schedule. Louis now has two extra hours of nothing to do. He's complaining about this to Harry in as dramatic a fashion as possible. Zayn is sitting next to him shaking his head to let him know it's not as bad as it sounds.
"Basically, we're fucked," Louis finishes with a loud sigh. The audience that he has captured during his storytelling starts to disperse, which is quite rude of them, since they didn't even applaud. It was the least they could do to show their gratitude for a well told story. He does get two half hearted rounds of applause from Harry and Zayn at least. After taking a short bow, at which only Harry giggles about, he flops back onto the seat. "I'm bored."
"It's only a few more hours, Louis," Zayn says, patting him on the back. Louis shuffles closer to him on instinct. Harry frowns.
"A few more boring hours," he shoots back. He looks to Harry to back him up, but he's standing up.
"Well, unlike you guys, tab hasn't messed up drama so I gotta go to my round right now," Harry says. Louis is not happy with this news. He wants Harry to stay and entertain him and if he leaves, how he can be entertained?
"Wait, can we go to your round too?" Zayn asks. Louis turns and looks at him, surprise evident on his face. He never thought about it, but he has been wondering how Harry is as a performer. He'd never think of him in DI, but maybe he's different with his piece. He's also wanted to assess his talent for himself.
It's suddenly a really good idea. "Oh, can we?" Louis says, pouting at Harry. "We'll sit in the back and be really good spectators.
Harry sighs. "Do I have a choice?"
"You do --"
"Zayn means technically yes, but you know I'll just follow you to the room." He tries on an innocent face. Harry nods in resignation and Louis jumps in glee and presses a sloppy kiss to his forehead.
Harry is the fourth performer in the round. When he's just waiting for his turn, he's very chill, his hands clasped together on the desk and his attention focused on each previous contestant. He reminds Louis a lot of himself when he started - same polite interest (although Harry's might be actual interest, he's not sure), same enthusiasm.
When 16A is called, he smiles bashfully at the judges, announces the title of his selection in his slow voice, and waits for the judges to tell him they're ready. Louis catches his eye and gives him a quick thumbs up; he swears Harry brightens.
Harry's good. Harry's really good. He watches his quick movements and his smooth pops, listens to his character voices, and pays attention to how involved he is with his piece. He has a few problems with the overall polish, but he can see how Harry qualified and made Top 60. He's honestly very impressed by him and tells him that when the round is over, dropping back in step to walk next to Harry.
"You were, uh, great," Louis says, nodding to emphasize his point. "I really liked it."
Harry ducks his head and Louis screams internally. "You have no idea how much that means to me."
Louis doesn't know what to say to that, so he resorts to laughing a bit nervously. "Just telling you my thoughts, you know."
"It means a lot. Thank you," Harry says earnestly. Everything about Harry is earnest. His eyes are earnest. His smile is earnest. His face is earnest. Harry is earnest. Louis wants to kiss the earnest look off his face.
He settles for intertwining their fingers and squeezing slightly before he lets go and jogs to catch up with Zayn.
They make it to quarterfinals. Top 15 in the nation. Louis kisses Zayn on his face and then kisses Harry on his lips and again as consolation when he finds out Harry didn't make it. Harry doesn't take it bad at all. Turns out it wasn't all talk. He is actually one of those "I'm just really glad to have been here" kinds of people. After that, he unofficially becomes Zayn and Louis' personal cheerleader.
His smile is the brightest in the audience of the quarterfinals round and Louis feeds off that energy. Their performance is spectacular.
Louis almost falls to his knees in happiness when he sees J170 as one of the twelve teams that have made it into Duo semifinals. This is the farthest he and Zayn have ever advanced and he's shaking. He simultaneously wants to bounce off the walls and crawl under his blankets and sleep. It's some time past 7 PM, he hasn't eaten in three hours, and he's running on a few hours of sleep. Zayn has to be feeling the same way.
"We're so fucking close," Louis says to Zayn, as everyone starts leaving to go to rounds. Zayn nods, the exhaustion apparent in his face. Harry's waiting a few feet away. Harry's a good person.
"We're gonna make finals," Zayn says eventually. "We're going to go to finals."
Louis gives him a tired, lopsided grin. "Finals, huh?"
"If you're up for it."
"We're partners, remember? Couldn't possibly leave you behind." Zayn grins and bumps his fist in response.
"Where's your boy Harry fit in?" he teases, and Harry maybe has super hearing abilities because he jerks his head up and looks in their direction.
Louis hasn't gotten over the habit of blushing when it comes to the subject of Harry yet. He's working on it, but he's had a bit more pressing matters to attend to recently. "Shut up," he grumbles. "Can we go now?"
Zayn keeps laughing even as they meet up with Harry.
"I can't do this, I can't take this waiting anymore." Louis is laying on his back in the posting area, staring at the ceiling. Semifinals went fine. He doesn't have any strong feelings this or that way, mostly because he's so fucking exhausted. He's been up since 6 AM and it's already 9 PM. He hasn't eaten in hours. He needs to call his mom, but he doesn't want to talk to her until he knows if they've advanced. He really needs something to eat.
"They should be out any minute now," Harry offers. His head is resting on Louis' chest, his own body laying in a ninety degree angle to Louis. "Patience, patience."
"Fuck off," Louis says weakly. Harry grins and blows a raspberry against his shirt. Gross. Gross and not cute.
Zayn comes back with three sandwiches and three Cokes and tosses two of them to Harry, who catches them easily. He offers one of the sandwiches to Louis, but Louis declines. He thought he was really hungry but his stomach is too bundled up with nerves. He'd probably throw up all over.
"Zayn?" Zayn looks up from his phone at Louis' voice. "No matter what, we've had an amazing run --"
"Shut up, Lou. Don't count us out before we're out."
"I'm not! I'm trying to be heartfelt!"
"You're doing a poor job at it. I love you and I love what we've done and I just want to eat this sandwich in peace --" Zayn trails off when one of the tournament administrators walks into the room and they all fall quiet. The atmosphere is tense and suffocating. Louis sits up, bringing Harry along with him.
"Congratulations to the National finalists," the administrator says simply, and 10 vertical banners unfold from the ceiling. Louis only cares about one banner, his eyes darting to the one that holds the 6 codes of the Duo Interpretation finalists.
J134
J156
J164
J170
J181
J185
"Zayn," he says weakly, after what seem like minutes, after what seems like a battle to find his voice again. "Zayn."
"I know, Lou. I know." With that affirmation from Zayn, Louis tackles him to the ground in an ecstatic hug and there's incoherent yelling and crying, Paul's trying to pull the two apart to congratulate them, and the rest of the team is piling on top of each other in celebration. Louis feels like this is all a dream, a perfect fantasy where he and Zayn have just made finals and he has his team around him and a Harry looking fondly on. Zayn tackles him again and Louis laughs as the air is knocked out of him and thinks, Yeah, so much better than a dream.
They don't have to be anywhere until 11 AM the next morning so what does it matter if Louis is spending his time ordering room service and watching movies in Harry's room? He's technically not supposed to order anything because the school is paying for it, but hello, he's a National Finalist, they can cut him some slack there.
"You know," Harry starts, reaching over to snatch some chips from Louis. Louis hisses at him. "People could consider this a date. We've got food and a movie and we're in a hotel room alone..."
"No funny business, Styles," Louis admonishes, guarding the bag of chips from Harry's reach. "And it's not a date. It's a celebration of mine and Zayn's fantastic success."
"Zayn's not even here."
"Only because he's sick of me and wants to soak in the hot tub." Louis sniffs sadly to add dramatic effect. Harry just pats his shoulder.
"So really, it's not exactly a celebration --"
"Harry." Louis feels a prickling in the back of his neck. "Just drop --"
"Yeah, yeah. Can we watch a different movie?" Harry asks, gesturing to the tv screen. They're watching Rudy, last they checked, and not only does Louis love this movie, there also isn't much else on. He takes a look at Harry, who looks sleepily content next to him, head on his shoulder and arm looped through Louis'.
"Have at it," Louis concedes, tossing him the remote. Harry smiles lazily and flips through the channels before settling on some other film. Louis isn't sure what it is and doesn't make any effort to find out what it is. Harry doesn't either, especially when he falls asleep halfway through it, curling up close to Louis. He smooths down Harry's flyaway curls and drags the sheets over the two of them before falling asleep next to him.
Louis has a crick in his neck when he wakes up. A quick scramble for his phone tells him it's 9:38 AM and before he calls for Zayn, he remembers he fell asleep with Harry last night. Shit. He tears the sheets off him, which jostles Harry awake with a mumbled "What?" and Louis apologizes.
"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to sleep here last night, should've gone back --" Louis is rambling now, as he pockets his phone and runs a hand through his hair. He needs a shower and he needs to go back to his room.
"S'fine," Harry mumbles against the pillow. "Not late or anything, right?"
"Not late, no, just --"
"Yeah, go on, just..." Harry pops his head up, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. "See you later?"
Louis can't help but grin. "You better be in that audience where I can see you."
"As if you guys can go without your good luck charm," Harry says with a sleepy smile. Louis kisses him quickly before walking out, Harry's loud "You're such a heartbreaker, Tomlinson!" following him. Brian totally sees him exiting from Harry's room, but Louis just flips him off.
Standing on that stage, even just for sound and light check, sends a chill down Louis' spine. He feels the goosebumps rise as he looks out into the ballroom. The seats are empty but he imagines them filled, as they will be later on, his team sitting a few rows behind the judges, Paul looking proudly at them. He lifts his head up so Lissa, the tech girl, can adjust the mic positioning and he thinks, Jesus Christ, because six hours from now, he'll be back on the stage, actually being filmed and observed and judged because he's actually a Nationals finalist. There is a possibility he might pee his pants (right now, of course, not when it actually matters, but Lissa might object to that point).
Once they're done, they're ushered backstage, where they have an hour lecture about where they're supposed to stay before their event, where they can and can't go, and what time to report to the ballroom. Louis sends nonsensical texts to Harry instead.
Bored save me
This guy's beard is out of control
Trying to take a sneaky pic . not working
did you get it
Text me back I'm bored
He gets one response from Harry (Hahahahahahahahahaha sucks to be you, National Finalist.). What a little shit.
Zayn and Louis run through their piece one more time in front of Paul and the team but that's the last they touch of it before 7 PM. His stomach has been fostering some low-grade nerves the entire day, but they've manifested themselves in an excited energy. Thirty minutes before their event finals, they get called to the backstage area and are fitted with their mics and National finalist ribbons.
The minutes tick by quickly. He hears the audience in a collective whisper and wonders where Harry is sitting. He wishes he could go check his phone, see if there's a message from him, but Paul's taken it already. Their performance is slated to go fourth, and as soon as the third duo team goes on, Louis lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
He turns to Zayn, reaches out to adjust his tie, makes sure to avoid messing up the mic. He asks, "Ready?"
"You and me, Lou. Always," Zayn says back, his voice certain. He grabs for Louis' hand and kisses his knuckles and Louis breathes out again. Two minutes until showtime.
When the announcer calls out their code and title, Louis kisses Zayn's knuckles quickly and they walk out onto the stage. The lights are blinding, the crowd is full, their team flashes them double thumbs up, and Harry is sitting a few rows back, with Trier, smiling like always. There are no scowls on Trier's faces, not even Brian's. Louis has only a few seconds to take it all in before they begin.
He's knocking on Harry's door later that night, loud, quick raps against the door.
Where are you !!, he texts to Harry before flipping his phone in his hand. There's too much going on for him to stop moving about, and he wanted to find Harry to help him relax, but that plan doesn't work without a Harry in question.
The worst part about about speech finals being Friday is that he still has too many hours to suffer through before the awards the next day. This means he has plenty of time to stew in every little mistake he thinks he made, which makes him incredibly grumpy. It makes him hard to be around actual people. Every word out of his mouth is a variation of "What did you think of [insert scene here]?" He tries to sleep until it's 5 PM the next day, but his mind won't let him. Being around Zayn doesn't help either because they just make each other's thoughts worse and for the time being, Paul has banned them from hanging out, just so they can (try to) relax. Louis hates Paul for trying to be helpful.
"Stop trying to break down my door," Harry says, a few feet away and looking bemused.
"Harry! There you are! Been looking everywhere for you!" He moves aside to make room for Harry to slide his room key in to open the door. Once he does, he bounds inside and jumps on the bed a couple of times. He stops at the edge to pull Harry up with him and he follows without complaint, laughing while Louis leads him into an impromptu dance. Even without music to guide them, it's more fast paced than a regular slow dance, with absolutely no pattern to it. One second he's swaying with Harry, another second he's waving Harry's arms from side to side.
Their laughter blends together, loud and boisterous, and Louis keeps going on his tiptoes to press kisses against Harry's jaw. Harry's ticklish, he finds out, and he loves it. Harry retaliates by running his fingers up and down his sides and Louis tries to squirm away from the vicious attack but only ends up toppling them both over on the bed with muffled oofs.
"Way to go, Styles," Louis says to the ceiling.
Harry gasps. "Hey, you made us fall."
"Uh, no," Louis disagrees. "You didn't need to retaliate, okay?"
"I'm not gonna win this battle, am I?" Harry turns so he's facing him and Louis mirrors the action. He has lighter flecks of color in his eyes and a faint smattering of freckles across his nose. Harry's fringe falls into his eyes as he shifts on the bed and he has a bad habit of pushing it back so it's out of his way.
Louis taps him on the nose twice and replies, "Right you are!"
There's a soft hmph of mixed indignation and resignation from Harry. Just how Louis likes it. He nudges at Harry's ankle with his own and Harry elbows him playfully. A punch here, a flick there. Soon enough, they're a tangle of limbs, of mouths hovering over mouths, fingers tangled together. Louis strokes Harry's thumb and enjoys the silence of the room.
Harry breaks the silence. "Hey Louis?"
"Hey Harry?"
"Are we like doing something here?"
Louis feels dread coil down his spine. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.
"What do you mean?" He tries to roll over onto his back so he can escape Harry's strong gaze but every time he tries, he just can't.
"Like, is this just for fun or are we going to keep seeing each other when this is over?" He has a neutral expression on and his fingers are tight around Louis'.
Louis is quiet for a while, possibly too much of a while, because Harry starts backtracking. "Sorry, sorry, that was probably too much, I know we only --"
"No, sorry," Louis cuts in. He pulls his hand away apologetically. His palms are sweaty. How long have they been sweaty? "I just. Don't really know. Sorry. Just, there's a lot happening and I haven't really..." His attempt at a smile falls short.
"Thought about it," Harry finishes. Louis can't read his expression - it's skillfully absent of anything telling.
"It's been a hell of a week, Harry," he says. He's finally pushed himself into an upright position. It doesn't wash away the guilt.
"I know, I went through it with you, remember?" It's entirely teasing in its intention and execution, but Louis still feels like he's in the wrong. He isn't in the wrong. He had never promised Harry anything and they barely knew each other and he had had finals in his head all week. He needed room to breathe.
Louis doesn't answer and he must have a look on his face that invites comment because Harry quickly says, "Honestly, I didn't mean to bring it up at all, it just happened and I know there are so many more important things to be thinking about." He reaches for Louis' hand again and he lets him lace their fingers together.
He looks down at their fingers and thinks that they look good together. "Give me time to think?" Louis finally says. He feels Harry squeeze his hand.
"You don't have to think too much about it. Someone's got awards tomorrow." Louis groans at how nice he's being.
"Stop being so fucking understanding, you idiot," he complains. "You suck." Harry seems very satisfied with that because he's a cheerful loser who would be happy with that.
"I'll take that as a compliment and also can we go bother Zayn?" It's like he already knows the way to Louis' heart.
"Yes," Louis approves. "But first!" Without further notice, he pushes Harry onto his back, falling into the set of pillows, and kisses him hard, licking his way into his mouth. Harry kisses back with enthusiasm, taken back at first due to the surprise, but quickly adjusts, drawing him closer. Louis actually struggles to pull back due to Harry's grip, but he's successful. Harry makes a whining sound, to which Louis acknowledges only with a small kiss on the tip of Harry's nose.
"Up and at 'em, Styles, let's go!"
"I don't like you anymore."
They stay in their respective rooms that night but Louis does not sleep. Instead, he spends the night tossing and turning because he feels the weight of figuring out what he wants with Harry pressing against him. It's funny that he will be finding out if they've won the championship in a few hours, but all he can focus on is Harry's stupid understanding words and his stupid eyes and hair and supportive cheerleading and lips. He's known Harry for not even a full week and spent the first day convinced he was a Trier spy. He doesn't know all that much about him apart from the facts he's tucked away inside his brain. He doesn't know what Harry wants from him and he doesn't know how they'd even manage outside of these circumstances.
But.
It's not an unappealing thought, wanting this to be more. It's not as if Harry's asking for the world. It's not a life commitment. It's just an offer for more. Harry is friendly and polite and encouraging and also bright and ambitious and impressive and he wants to know more about him, wants to see more of him, wants more of him. It's an easy conclusion from a long internal fight. He supposes that it's always been an easy conclusion, something he would've known before if he had let himself actually think about it.
By the time he finally falls asleep, it's 5 AM and he's gone through almost ten different scenarios of how to tell Harry his conclusion. He sleeps with a smile lost in the sheets and wakes up at noon. Looking over at the other bed, he spots Zayn on his laptop.
"Judgment Day," Zayn says, without looking away from the screen.
Shit. Awards tonight. "In it to win it," Louis says. Zayn shoots him a crooked grin.
"Let's get lunch after you get up. I'm starving."
"'Kay," Louis says. He's vaguely aware of his own hunger. "Guess what?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Think I'm gonna ask Harry out on a date." He waits for Zayn's reaction.
"What do you call all the times you've hung out with him in his single hotel room?" Zayn asks, accompanying his question with a wag of his eyebrows.
"Celebration of our Nationals success," Louis answers defiantly. Zayn laughs for a few minutes but he stops long enough to tell him it's a good idea.
Turns out the universe is conspiring against his attempts to ask Harry out properly. By the time Zayn and Louis leave for lunch, it's 1:30 and they stay at the restaurant until 3:30. They have to hurry back to the hotel before 4, when the finalists are supposed to be all dressed and ready to report to the ballroom in advance for the awards. Louis manages to send a text ('make some time for me ??') to Harry before he has to pocket it.
From backstage, they can hear the buzz of the audience filing into the ballroom, getting louder as the awards ceremony gets closer to starting. Louis is going entirely by the cues from the assistants who will tell them when to walk on stage. He's very grateful because he can't even think straight with how hard his heart is pounding. The other duo finalists keep trying to make small talk with each other and failing, preferring to pace around instead. Louis keeps readjusting his tie. Zayn looks like he's going to be sick. Sometime later, he gets pushed into a single file line behind Zayn, half listening to the woman in charge tell them they're about to go on.
He grabs for Zayn's hand as the head of the National Forensic League booms out, "Please welcome the finalists in Duo Interpretation to the stage!" The line starts moving until they're at the center and Louis is greeted with the familiar brightness of the lights in his face. He doesn't know where their team is or where Harry is. He's thinking about closing his eyes until this is all over; Zayn is crushing his hand.
"It is with great pride that the National Forensic League announces your finalists in Duo Interpretation. In sixth place are Ann Griswold and Ellie Banks from Colorado Springs High school, coached by Hilary Peterson!" Louis feels himself let go of Zayn's hand to clap for Ann and Ellie, who walk by them to collect their trophies. He hopes he's smiling pleasantly; all he can feel is the startling relief that the names called out weren't theirs.
He repeats the process for fifth and fourth place and doesn't dare let himself hope. His heart is pounding and he's sure everyone can hear it. He can't see a fucking thing in the audience.
Third place goes to Ryan Larson and Cory Grant, Bellvue High School, coach Karen Alexander.
Time stands still. Louis still can't breathe.
"The National Runners up in Duo Interpretation are..."
Louis doesn't think holding his breath will actually help him breathe but he tries it anyways. "Elizabeth Emerson and Benjamin Hill, from Lakeside Prep, coached by Sam Hill and Felicity Arthur!"
In that second after Elizabeth and Ben's names are announced, Louis and Zayn accept the hugs they offer in congratulations. After that, as Elizabeth and Ben pass them, he hears the loud applause that often comes within the gap between the runners up and the champions. There's a long pause before their names are officially announced in which their arms go around each other, Zayn lifting Louis up and he wonders if he's crying. He's honestly so numb with happiness he can't tell at all.
"And your National Champions in Duo Interpretation are Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson, from Lincoln High School, coached by Paul Higgins!"
They have to take official pictures in their leis and cowboy hats (the latter sticking with the Dallas theme) which makes them look ridiculous but what's a little embarrassment when they've just won the National Championship? The ceremony is long over by the time they're finally released back into the wild and their team is waiting for them, all of them with ecstatic looks on their faces. Gary looks like he's been crying and Louis feels a wave of affection for him. There's still a pretty sizable crowd of people left from the ceremony, catching up with their own champions and trying to organize last minute things.
"All hail the conquering heroes!" someone shouts and the team bursts into applause. Louis takes a wide bow and grins.
"Let us see the hardware!" Leigh Anne pipes in, poking her head out from behind Danny's shoulder. She makes grabby hands for the trophies and Louis is feeling very generous (and happy, very very happy) so he hands it over delicately, with the strongest possible warnings that should any scratch appear anywhere on the trophy, he will seek revenge.
Needless to say, it starts making its way to every team member's hands, making Louis wince every single time anyone (and he sees everyone) touches it with anything but the most delicate touch. "Gary, be careful with that, don't just tug --" He's interrupted by a tap on his shoulder and when he whirls around, he sees Harry, his hands clasped together behind his back and a small smile on his face.
"Hi," Harry says.
"Hi," Louis says, a bit breathlessly. He tugs at his lei, feeling more than a bit silly with it on, along with the hat.
"So, can I tell everyone I know a National Champion?" he asks, reaching out to tug at the lei as well. Louis laughs, feeling the nervous excitement wash away into a content assurance.
"Yeah, go brag away," he answers. "So..."
Harry's smiling like he knows what he's going to say. "So."
"I was thinking and... if you were free sometime, I thought we could go see a movie. Or I'd take you somewhere to eat. Or you know, anything," Louis says slowly, faltering a little. He's running the flowers of the lei between his fingers and he shouldn't feel more nervous about this than for a round, but at the moment, he is.
Harry bites back a smile and tries to school his face into a neutral expression. "As a celebration of your success?"
Louis blushes - it does sound ridiculous now that someone else has said it. "Nope. As a date."
"Then you're on," Harry finally answers. He plucks the cowboy hat off Louis' head and places it onto his own. "I'll be taking this too."
Louis would protest but he really doesn't like the hat so Harry can have it.
His trophy enters his line of sight at that moment as Leigh Anne sidles up next to him and waves it in front of his face.
"Just returning this to Your Majesty," she says as if she hadn't just given Louis a heart attack of the highest caliber. He takes it out of her hands and holds it close, glaring at her once he has it safe and secure in his arms.
"You're never touching this ever again," he warns, but she's already moved onto a new subject as soon as she sees Harry.
"Why, hello, Harry! Nice to see you! You've been hanging around a lot. I would think there's love in the air, except Captain here is really into the rivalry," she says, very matter-of-factly, a smug look on her face pointed at Louis. He wonders if he could get rid of her without anyone wondering what happened and pinpointing it on him.
"I think the rivalry ship has sailed," is all Harry says, which launches Leigh Anne into another round of teasing aimed at Louis.
"Can't you go bother someone else --"
"Tomlinson," a voice interrupts. Louis turns around to see Brian looking very uncomfortable.
"Brian," Louis returns, a little confused.
"Er, congratulations to you and Malik on winning. It's good to see someone from the state win," Brian says. He offers a hand to Louis, looking even more uncomfortable while doing so, and Louis shakes it with the hand that's not clutching onto the trophy.
"Thanks a lot, Brian. Good job this week," he says, because Brian had made it to semifinals. "S'been a good four years. You were a good rival."
"Not a thing," Zayn says, shaking his head as he walks up next to them. Brian extends the same hand to Zayn and he shakes it as well.
"Definitely a thing," Louis argues, but it's mostly for appearance's sake now. Brian nods in agreement. Zayn just rolls his eyes, so does everyone else in earshot.
"We're going to get something to eat now. Harry, wanna join us?" Zayn asks, looking back at Harry, who's engaged in a conversation with Leigh Anne. She's probably just making fun of Louis. Harry nods. Once he gets his affirmation, Zayn turns back to Brian. "How about it, Brian? Put the rivalry away?"
Brian looks at Zayn in plain discomfort and then at Louis, who shares the same look. "Uh, I'm good. Have fun!" After he hurries off, Louis slaps Zayn's arm for the gall to invite his Worst Enemy to dinner with the team.
"Sorry, babe, wanted to see your reaction," he says. Louis is not very amused.
"I'm not very amused."
"I'll buy you ice cream, okay? A little thanks for being a great partner gift," he suggests, throwing an arm around Louis' shoulders.
"You're so sentimental," Louis whines, pretending to shrug out of Zayn's grasp, but actually gives him a quick side hug to show him he's joking, but Zayn already knew that.
"Hey, I'm getting jealous over here," Harry pipes in, poking Louis in the stomach. Louis moves the trophy to his front to ward off any other attacks.
"I can't help it if everyone wants a piece of me," he says, his nose upturned. "I am a National Champion after all." There's a collective groan behind him. Rude. He contributes so much and asks for so little and his team can't even offer him a little support.
"Can someone take his trophy away before he starts using it as an excuse for everything he does?" Jesy asks.
"Too late," Louis replies, keeping the trophy close to his body. They can pry it from his cold, dead hands as far as he's concerned.