coping mechanisms. harry/louis
fandom: one direction
ship: louis/harry
I have no idea how this website works or what I'm doing, so bear with me, please.
Harry had been the first to go solo.
In reality, it'd been something that all of them had seen coming, had known was coming for quite some time now. At some point, the five of them would break off, would go their separate ways. They hadn't known who it'd be. Who'd be the first to do it. It started with Harry writing a few songs here and there, asking the fans at the shows if they'd like to hear him play. He did the occasional livestream here and there where he'd play the songs for the fans, and the fans ate it right up - they loved it. It didn't take long after the boys' third album release for Harry to be asked if he'd like to take on a solo project.
He'd been reluctant. It'd been everyone else who'd pushed him to it, who'd told him that this was an opportunity that he needed to run with....so that's what he did. He ran with it.
It started with a single that practically landed at the top spot on iTunes the same nanosecond it came out - some croony, soppy love song about some random faceless nobody so that teenage girls and boys all around the world could pretend that Harry was singing to him. But Harry wasn't singing to them. Harry was singing to a boy a world away from him with sandy brown hair and steel blue eyes, tan skin and a (slightly) crooked smile.
After the release of his album came the tour. A few shows across the country wasn't enough, and before he really was able to register what was happening, he was being asked to his the US for a real tour. He wanted Louis to come with - in fact, he wanted all of the guys to come with him - but even if they were still just as close as they always had been, they still knew they couldn't come with him. This wasn't their thing anymore - right now, it was just Harry. It was just Harry and that was okay.
"But you love American food," Harry had chided Niall, nudging him over and over again with his shoulder from where they stood around the kitchen counter in his and Louis' flat.
"I love any and all food," Niall corrected him, a knowing twinkle in his eye and a matching grin. "If it were somehow legal to marry food, I'd honestly have no reason to leave my house."
Harry rolled his eyes, his long arms stretched out from one end of the counter's width to the other, fingers curled over the edge and holding on. He all but put his head down on the marble when Louis loped over to his other side, not saying a word but keeping their bodies in alignment with one another - just as they always were. They just fit like that. They had ever since the first day.
"You'll be great, Haz," Louis had assured him. "You don't need us."
Harry wasn't so sure. He wasn't sure if there'd ever come a time when he didn't need Louis. A time when he didn't need any of the boys, really, but especially Louis.
Always Louis.
+
He goes to America, albeit a little reluctantly. He has an opening act - some new teen pop sensation who was blowing up the internet - and he's selling out crowds left and right, much to his shock and awe (and even, a little, to his relief). But he feels naked on the stage. Naked and laid bare and alone. He is used to being ensconced in a throng of people - being with One Direction. He's used to turning to his left to mess around with Zayn or turning to his right and being grabbed in one of Louis' embraces. But now they aren't here and there is an unfamiliar band of strangers behind him - they've introduced themselves over and over again, but they'll always be strangers to Harry because they aren't who they are supposed to be - and he isn't sure if he's ever felt this homesick or alone in his entire life.
He always gets asked about the infamous Larry Stylinson. He still sees the posters twinkling through the crowd every night even though Louis might as well have been on another planet for as far away from Harry as he felt when he isn't right beside him. He's still not sure if the signs are more of a comfort or simply another reminder that he's not where he should be.
Every night, he gets back to his hotel room and gets on Skype - it's the closest he ever gets to feeling right, but even then it still feels wrong. He always calls Louis, but a lot of the time he lucks out and gets everyone. Niall will be sitting in the back, wedged next to Zayn and eating a few chips from Nando's takeaway and batting Zayn's hand away every time he tries to grab one. Liam and Danielle will sometimes be in the background, moving around the kitchen, Danielle letting out a loud laugh while Liam hums to some tune that Harry can't recognize.
But the one constant is always Louis.
Louis sitting there with his tired smile and one of Harry's tattered beanies on his head. They'll try to keep their conversations as normal and casual as possible because they're not sure if they'd be able to handle it otherwise. Louis will talk about what happened in one of his acting classes or he'll show him some random doodle that he'd drawn of Harry without realizing. Harry will give him a summary of the concert that he just finished up.
But the conversations always taper off after a while, one of them always murmuring out a broken "I really fucking miss you" even though they've promised to keep it together. They make plans for Louis to come to the States for a few legs of the tour and Harry will promise that it won't last forever and that he can't wait to be back in their flat and in their bed and in Louis' arms. He wants to cocoon himself in his cage of arms and he just wants to be there. Wants to curl himself inside of Louis and not leave, never leave. Just wants to be.
Talking to Louis every night is the only way that Harry's really able to cope, he figures. But it doesn't change the fact that he goes to bed every night with a knot in his stomach, feeling like, piece by piece, he's losing his heart with each passing conversation.
+
Skype is Harry's way of coping with being away, and Louis only wishes that it was as easy for him. He wishes that he could tell Harry everything that he's feeling every second of the day, wishes he didn't have to keep everything so bottled up so fucking tightly...but he has to. He has to because telling Harry how wrecked he feels when he goes home to their flat every night and remembers that Harry won't be there would only make Harry all that more determined to come home, and Louis knows how bad Harry wants this, how badly he needs to share his music with the world. And fuck, Harry deserves that and Louis will be damned if he's the one to take that away from him.
But Louis misses him. Misses him so badly that he can feel it in his bones. Misses rolling over onto Harry's side of the bed and wrapping his leg around the curly haired boy's waist in an attempt to tug him closer. Misses Harry scolding him every time he tried and failed to make them a meal and somehow managed to set the fire alarm off in the process. He misses singing and dancing and holding him and kissing him and fucking him and just being with him. And he doesn't know what to do.
"It's a miracle you're not lying on your bedroom floor and listening to sappy love songs all day," Liam mentions to him once, a little offhandedly. He has that little smile on his face that tells Louis that he's just teasing, but Louis simply rolls his eyes.
"I'm pathetic, Li," he informs him. "And I am very, very aware."
Zayn is sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the table even though Liam keeps telling him to put them back down on the floor every three seconds. He has his eyes fixed on the game on the television, but he turns his head to look at Liam and Louis regardless. "Y'know," he said, his voice a little slow and dazed as usual, "when people are grieving, they sometimes get dogs."
Louis blinks, stares back at him with a blank expression on his face for a few moments. "People grieve when someone's dead," he tells him. "Harry's not dead. He's just gone."
Zayn doesn't respond, really. He simply waves his hand over his head and turns back to the game, informing them that he's made his peace and now he's going to put all of his attention back into the task at hand.
Liam rocks back on his heels, his eyes trained on Zayn for a few moments before he looks at Louis and raises his eyebrows. "A dog might not be the worst idea."
And that is how Louis met Hazza.
+
"You named him what?"
"I can feel your judgement from all the way across the Atlantic, Haz," Louis informs him, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. In his lap is a chocolate cocker spaniel, its body a mess of curls.
"I'm sorry, are you talking to me or are you talking to your dog?" Harry tosses back pointedly, raising his eyebrows.
Louis rolls hie eyes and shakes his head back at him. "Quiet, you twat," he informs him, a smile still on his lips. He turns Hazza's head until he's focused on the screen, lifting his ears with his fingertips. "Look at how cute he is."
"You named him Hazza, Lou."
Louis pauses, sighing a little. He looks down at the puppy before looking back at Harry and shrugging his shoulders. Granted, naming a dog after the very same nickname you and your friends call your boyfriend wasn't probably his best idea, but he couldn't really help it. "I'm assuming it's apparent that I miss you."
The words melt Harry, send a wide, sad smile blooming onto his lips. He nods, rubbing his lips together. For a few moments, he keeps quiet, silence hanging between them.
Harry swivels around in the chair in his hotel room, leaning over the bed and snagging something out of view that Louis can't see. Harry's shifting back into the camera's primary focus shortly after, but now he's not alone. He's got a large teddy bear in his arms and he's lifting its arm so that it's waving at Louis. Louis' heart skips a beat, and he can practically hear Harry's words before he says them.
"Meet Boo Bear."
ship: louis/harry
I have no idea how this website works or what I'm doing, so bear with me, please.
Harry had been the first to go solo.
In reality, it'd been something that all of them had seen coming, had known was coming for quite some time now. At some point, the five of them would break off, would go their separate ways. They hadn't known who it'd be. Who'd be the first to do it. It started with Harry writing a few songs here and there, asking the fans at the shows if they'd like to hear him play. He did the occasional livestream here and there where he'd play the songs for the fans, and the fans ate it right up - they loved it. It didn't take long after the boys' third album release for Harry to be asked if he'd like to take on a solo project.
He'd been reluctant. It'd been everyone else who'd pushed him to it, who'd told him that this was an opportunity that he needed to run with....so that's what he did. He ran with it.
It started with a single that practically landed at the top spot on iTunes the same nanosecond it came out - some croony, soppy love song about some random faceless nobody so that teenage girls and boys all around the world could pretend that Harry was singing to him. But Harry wasn't singing to them. Harry was singing to a boy a world away from him with sandy brown hair and steel blue eyes, tan skin and a (slightly) crooked smile.
After the release of his album came the tour. A few shows across the country wasn't enough, and before he really was able to register what was happening, he was being asked to his the US for a real tour. He wanted Louis to come with - in fact, he wanted all of the guys to come with him - but even if they were still just as close as they always had been, they still knew they couldn't come with him. This wasn't their thing anymore - right now, it was just Harry. It was just Harry and that was okay.
"But you love American food," Harry had chided Niall, nudging him over and over again with his shoulder from where they stood around the kitchen counter in his and Louis' flat.
"I love any and all food," Niall corrected him, a knowing twinkle in his eye and a matching grin. "If it were somehow legal to marry food, I'd honestly have no reason to leave my house."
Harry rolled his eyes, his long arms stretched out from one end of the counter's width to the other, fingers curled over the edge and holding on. He all but put his head down on the marble when Louis loped over to his other side, not saying a word but keeping their bodies in alignment with one another - just as they always were. They just fit like that. They had ever since the first day.
"You'll be great, Haz," Louis had assured him. "You don't need us."
Harry wasn't so sure. He wasn't sure if there'd ever come a time when he didn't need Louis. A time when he didn't need any of the boys, really, but especially Louis.
Always Louis.
+
He goes to America, albeit a little reluctantly. He has an opening act - some new teen pop sensation who was blowing up the internet - and he's selling out crowds left and right, much to his shock and awe (and even, a little, to his relief). But he feels naked on the stage. Naked and laid bare and alone. He is used to being ensconced in a throng of people - being with One Direction. He's used to turning to his left to mess around with Zayn or turning to his right and being grabbed in one of Louis' embraces. But now they aren't here and there is an unfamiliar band of strangers behind him - they've introduced themselves over and over again, but they'll always be strangers to Harry because they aren't who they are supposed to be - and he isn't sure if he's ever felt this homesick or alone in his entire life.
He always gets asked about the infamous Larry Stylinson. He still sees the posters twinkling through the crowd every night even though Louis might as well have been on another planet for as far away from Harry as he felt when he isn't right beside him. He's still not sure if the signs are more of a comfort or simply another reminder that he's not where he should be.
Every night, he gets back to his hotel room and gets on Skype - it's the closest he ever gets to feeling right, but even then it still feels wrong. He always calls Louis, but a lot of the time he lucks out and gets everyone. Niall will be sitting in the back, wedged next to Zayn and eating a few chips from Nando's takeaway and batting Zayn's hand away every time he tries to grab one. Liam and Danielle will sometimes be in the background, moving around the kitchen, Danielle letting out a loud laugh while Liam hums to some tune that Harry can't recognize.
But the one constant is always Louis.
Louis sitting there with his tired smile and one of Harry's tattered beanies on his head. They'll try to keep their conversations as normal and casual as possible because they're not sure if they'd be able to handle it otherwise. Louis will talk about what happened in one of his acting classes or he'll show him some random doodle that he'd drawn of Harry without realizing. Harry will give him a summary of the concert that he just finished up.
But the conversations always taper off after a while, one of them always murmuring out a broken "I really fucking miss you" even though they've promised to keep it together. They make plans for Louis to come to the States for a few legs of the tour and Harry will promise that it won't last forever and that he can't wait to be back in their flat and in their bed and in Louis' arms. He wants to cocoon himself in his cage of arms and he just wants to be there. Wants to curl himself inside of Louis and not leave, never leave. Just wants to be.
Talking to Louis every night is the only way that Harry's really able to cope, he figures. But it doesn't change the fact that he goes to bed every night with a knot in his stomach, feeling like, piece by piece, he's losing his heart with each passing conversation.
+
Skype is Harry's way of coping with being away, and Louis only wishes that it was as easy for him. He wishes that he could tell Harry everything that he's feeling every second of the day, wishes he didn't have to keep everything so bottled up so fucking tightly...but he has to. He has to because telling Harry how wrecked he feels when he goes home to their flat every night and remembers that Harry won't be there would only make Harry all that more determined to come home, and Louis knows how bad Harry wants this, how badly he needs to share his music with the world. And fuck, Harry deserves that and Louis will be damned if he's the one to take that away from him.
But Louis misses him. Misses him so badly that he can feel it in his bones. Misses rolling over onto Harry's side of the bed and wrapping his leg around the curly haired boy's waist in an attempt to tug him closer. Misses Harry scolding him every time he tried and failed to make them a meal and somehow managed to set the fire alarm off in the process. He misses singing and dancing and holding him and kissing him and fucking him and just being with him. And he doesn't know what to do.
"It's a miracle you're not lying on your bedroom floor and listening to sappy love songs all day," Liam mentions to him once, a little offhandedly. He has that little smile on his face that tells Louis that he's just teasing, but Louis simply rolls his eyes.
"I'm pathetic, Li," he informs him. "And I am very, very aware."
Zayn is sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the table even though Liam keeps telling him to put them back down on the floor every three seconds. He has his eyes fixed on the game on the television, but he turns his head to look at Liam and Louis regardless. "Y'know," he said, his voice a little slow and dazed as usual, "when people are grieving, they sometimes get dogs."
Louis blinks, stares back at him with a blank expression on his face for a few moments. "People grieve when someone's dead," he tells him. "Harry's not dead. He's just gone."
Zayn doesn't respond, really. He simply waves his hand over his head and turns back to the game, informing them that he's made his peace and now he's going to put all of his attention back into the task at hand.
Liam rocks back on his heels, his eyes trained on Zayn for a few moments before he looks at Louis and raises his eyebrows. "A dog might not be the worst idea."
And that is how Louis met Hazza.
+
"You named him what?"
"I can feel your judgement from all the way across the Atlantic, Haz," Louis informs him, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. In his lap is a chocolate cocker spaniel, its body a mess of curls.
"I'm sorry, are you talking to me or are you talking to your dog?" Harry tosses back pointedly, raising his eyebrows.
Louis rolls hie eyes and shakes his head back at him. "Quiet, you twat," he informs him, a smile still on his lips. He turns Hazza's head until he's focused on the screen, lifting his ears with his fingertips. "Look at how cute he is."
"You named him Hazza, Lou."
Louis pauses, sighing a little. He looks down at the puppy before looking back at Harry and shrugging his shoulders. Granted, naming a dog after the very same nickname you and your friends call your boyfriend wasn't probably his best idea, but he couldn't really help it. "I'm assuming it's apparent that I miss you."
The words melt Harry, send a wide, sad smile blooming onto his lips. He nods, rubbing his lips together. For a few moments, he keeps quiet, silence hanging between them.
Harry swivels around in the chair in his hotel room, leaning over the bed and snagging something out of view that Louis can't see. Harry's shifting back into the camera's primary focus shortly after, but now he's not alone. He's got a large teddy bear in his arms and he's lifting its arm so that it's waving at Louis. Louis' heart skips a beat, and he can practically hear Harry's words before he says them.
"Meet Boo Bear."