(i don't say a lot of things) and you, my love, are gone. harry/louis.
title: (i don’t say a lot of things) and you, my love, are gone
fandom: one direction
ship: louis/harry
summary: it’s their last night in the flat, and neither one of them are really ready to say goodbye just yet.
a/n: this was prompted to me by a friend of mine, and the title is from the song “the chain” by ingrid michaelson
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“…is this yours or mine?”
Harry looked over from where he was grabbing a few picture frames off of his shelf and stowing them away into the box at his feet. Louis was holding a faded turquoise tee-shirt and Harry really, at this point, had no fucking clue which one of them it belonged to. At this point, a great deal of their shirts and beanies had become interchangeable between the two of them, mutual and up for grabs for whoever wanted to wear them. “Yours…? Maybe?”
Louis rubbed his lips together, turning the shirt around in his hands and letting out a slight humming sound as he inspected it. He looked back at Harry, raising his eyebrows. “We’ll sign a custody agreement for the poor thing.”
Harry smirked, but it was a sad one - and a hardly genuine one seeing as it barely reached his eyes. He sat back on his heels, resting his elbows on his knees and letting out a slow exhale as he looked up at the flat around them that was becoming more and more open and bare by the minute. “I can’t believe this is our last night in this place,” he said, more to himself than to Louis, shaking his head.
Louis’ response was to bite down on his lip, nodding in agreement because there wasn’t really all that much else that he could do but nod. “You like your new flat?” he asked, trying to make it sound offhanded even if in reality it was anything but.
“It’s all right, I guess,” Harry shrugged. “It’ll just be weird, y’know…not living with anyone else.” He didn’t even want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about being alone for the first time since god knows when (ever, maybe). He didn’t want to think about his best friend being a world away in a flat of his own with her. He didn’t want to think about the paparazzi that were going to be gathered around in a clusterfuck first thing tomorrow morning, eagerly awaiting the chance to capture the pictures of Larry Stylinson “separating” once and for all.
The internet had been running amok with rumors about them - rumors about them sleeping together and about Louis cheating on Eleanor with Harry and with Eleanor being a beard and with them “moving out” really just being a ruse by management so that fans didn’t get even more suspicious. And, well…the fans weren’t wrong. About the last one, at least.
It wasn’t as if there was even anything to hide, really. But management didn’t care. They couldn’t have the rumors spreading like wildfire about them - they’d already gotten too out of hand as it was and Harry and Louis (well, just Louis, really) could only brush off the rumors with the same overused line so many times before the fans stopped believing him and started building up their walls of assumptions miles high that they were, in fact, together and hiding it.
In Harry’s mind, it was bullshit. All of it was complete and utter bullshit. It was bullshit that management wouldn’t even let him hang out with his fucking best friend anymore because it would cause people to “ask questions.” It was bullshit that Eleanor got treated like fucking royalty when the only thing she did of value seemed to be keeping Starbucks in business. It was bullshit that he had to move out of this flat and say goodbye to all of these memories just because of it raising suspicions.
All of it. Bullshit.
Yes, he and Louis were close. Extremely close. Closer-than-best-friends-should-be close. But that was just who they were, who they’d always been. They’d never had to hide from each other, never had to be afraid to mess around or grab each other or hold hands for no apparent reason because that was the foundation of their friendship. For fuck’s sake, even their mums referred to them as husbands - even with Eleanor present at the time.
“What about you and El?” Harry sniffed, looking back over at Louis just in time to see the Doncaster boy going seemingly rigid at the question. “Getting a mansion together and all…that’s pretty serious…”
“Yeah,” Louis breathed out, his voice shaky. “Yeah, I guess it’s, uh…it’s a big step - but it’s not a mansion, the rags need to shut up about that.” He put a few more things into one of his boxes, this one labeled LOTS O’TOMS. He looked back over at Harry, meeting his green eyes and giving a small shrug of the shoulders. “She’ll be in Uni, though,” he carried on. “She doesn’t want to, like, drop out or anything, so she’ll only be here on occasion…it’s pretty much just like living on my own.”
For reasons that Harry couldn’t quite explain (or maybe just didn’t want to explain), he felt as if a weight were being lifted off of his shoulders with Louis’ words. He didn’t like to delve very far into thinking about the goings-on of Louis and Eleanor’s relationship. Thinking about it always formed a knot in his gut, and it was one of those problems that he’d really just like to avoid until eventually it just faded off into oblivion.
“Well, if you ever get too lonely or anything, you know where to find me,” Harry commented. He was trying to keep his voice light, trying to keep a smile on his face even though he wasn’t really sure of how convincing it was.
Louis nodded, however, smiling a small smile. “Right back at you, Haz,” he told him. He stood up from where he was seated cross-legged on the floor, reaching up to snag some of his scarves and beanies that were slung over the mantle (for whatever reason - things were always scattered in their flat). He tossed one of the beanies to Harry. “I have absolutely no idea if that’s yours or not.”
Harry didn’t really care either way, sticking it on his head and adjusting it slightly with his fingers. “A lovely parting gift if it’s not mine,” he teased. Teasing still hurt, though. It still came off fake. Because it was fake.
Louis cracked another one of those smiles that didn’t reach his eyes and sat back down, snagging a framed picture and flipping it around too show Harry. “Wanna go undercover this year to sneak into Leeds?” he asked.
Harry didn’t actually have to look over at the picture in Louis’ hands to know what it was of, but he did anyway. It was a picture of them from Leeds - one that nobody else had, something that was just theirs - and it made the knot in Harry’s stomach clench even tighter. Harry was making an obscene facial expression, all furrowed brows and larger than life grin and crazy eyes, and Louis was grinning, his eyes looking at Harry rather than at the camera. Harry bit down on his lip, looking back down at his box so that he didn’t start crying or some equally sappy shit like that. “It wouldn’t be the same,” he said with a shrug, looking back up at Louis and meeting his eyes. They weren’t the bright, happy blue that Harry wished they were. “People would grow suspicious if they knew that neither one of us were, y’know…here…and then you know Leeds will be crawling with younger girls this year just looking for us, and then they’d find us, and…”
Just thinking about it made him nauseous. Thinking about how everything had gotten so fucked up for them. He didn’t finish his thought, instead he just went back to putting things in boxes. Mechanical. Distracting.
But not nearly distracting enough, seeing as his eyes shifted right back up a few moments later and met Louis’.
Louis wasn’t looking at his face, he was looking at his wrist, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “Do you still have your bracelet?” he asked, looking back at Harry curiously. “You never wear any of your bracelets anymore.”
“Nearly lost the thing when we were in Australia,” Harry was quick to reply, shrugging his shoulders. “I keep it in a shoebox in my room with some other stuff now. I didn’t want it to get ruined.”
If he weren’t mistaken (and he was pretty sure he wasn’t), he saw Louis’ lips tug into a smile that time - bigger than all of the other smiles he’d produced tonight. He didn’t say anything in reply to Harry’s confession. Rather, he just went back to putting the last few items into his box and reaching for the tape gun to tape the box shut.
He barely got the gun pressed down against the box before the tape twisted, causing a loud, obnoxious sound to rip through the hollow living room. “This fucking thing,” he muttered, twisting his wrist a few times to try to get the tape gun to realign itself so that he could get the box shut. “I don’t…understand…why you hate me when all I’ve ever tried to do is love you.”
Harry smirked. “Maybe you should treat it to a nice dinner and then see how it goes.”
Louis glared back at him. “Yes, Hazza, yuck it up,” he deadpanned. “Are you going to sit there and watch me suffer or are you going to get off of your bony arse and help me?”
Harry pushed up off of his heels and slid across the hardwood floor until he was sitting across from Louis and his box. “My arse, thank you very much, is not bony,” Harry pointed out to him. His hand reached forward, latching around Louis’ wrist to guide it. He forgot what it was that he was supposed to be doing in nearly the same second that his hand pressed against Louis’. He froze, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the way that the knot in his stomach was getting bigger, tighter, like a knife was being twisted.
He could feel Louis’ eyes on him, practically burning a hole into him, but he didn’t dare meet his gaze. Instead he just kept his eyes focused on their hands. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d touched hands for fuck’s sake. They’d done a lot more than touch hands. So why was he getting like this over…this? Why couldn’t he just ignore the way his entire body was humming like some tween with a crush?
“So…you just, uh…you pull up straight like this…” Harry attempted to explain, regardless of how pathetic the explanation was. He dragged Louis’ hand up with his, the tape gun going over the top of the box and then down the other side. “And then just press it down and pull it so that the tape rips off.”
Louis did as instructed, pulling the gun away and smoothing down the newly pressed tape on the box. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Haz,” he said, his voice so quiet that it was damn near inaudible all together.
It felt like another blow.
The old Harry (and by “old” it was really the Harry from a couple of week ago) would have told Louis that he never had to know what he’d do without Harry - because he’d never be without Harry. Because that was the kind of friendship that they had. The kind that outlived bands and girlfriends and whatever the fuck else. The forever kind. He hadn’t seen any of this coming, he hadn’t seen them going through this much hell all because of a fucking friendship.
But maybe it had never been just a friendship…and maybe there was really no “maybe” about that at all.
Even since they’d first met on The X Factor, there’d been something there. Even if the five of the boys had all been best friends as a solid group, there was always Harry and Louis within that group. The two who were inseparable. The two who shared the inside jokes and the secret thumbs up signals. Who whispered in each other’s ears and kissed each other’s cheeks and necks just for the fuck of it.
The two who used to not give a shit what anyone said about their friendship, because damn it, if they were in a relationship, it’d be a really fucking good one at that.
Maybe all of it was just a game, whatever it was that he and Louis had had going on for the past two years. A game that they both played, that they played hard and relentlessly, pushing each other to the limit but never over the edge. A game that they both kept playing because they were scared to think about what would happen if they stopped playing.
“O-oh, I almost forgot,” Louis spoke up, ripping Harry out of his stupor. Louis stood up from his box, reaching into his impossibly tight pants and pulling out a small silver key, holding it out to Harry. “I want you to have my spare key,” he explained.
Harry’s eyes stayed trained on the small object pinched between Louis’ thumb and index finger for a few moments before standing up as well - albeit a little shakily - and reaching into his own pocket, pulling out a gold key and holding it out to Louis. “Great minds think alike.”
Neither one of them moved to grab the key from the other. Instead, they just kept staring. Eyes fixed on the objects in the other’s hands.
It was Harry, finally, who reached to grab the key from Louis, swallowing down the lump that was well on its way to forming in his throat and blinking slowly, allowing his eyes to settle onto Louis’ and letting green melt into blue. “Thanks…”
Louis nodded, returning the favor and taking the key from Harry. “Back at you,” he said, flipping it in his palm for a few moments before tucking it into the pocket of his jeans and letting out a slow, shaky breath.
Quiet. Quiet just like their flat had seemed to be for days. It was always just…quiet. Unbearably so. It wasn’t like them. In fact, it was so unlike them that it made Harry want to rip his hair out.
Louis’ eyes looked back up to meet Harry’s, and he swallowed - Harry’s eyes unable to follow the lines of his neck and the shift of his adam’s apple against his skin. Louis inhaled, exhaled. Once, twice, three times, before he finally spoke up.
“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice weak.
This time, it was Harry’s turn to breathe in. He didn’t even know what question to ask for, if he should ask a question at all. What was Louis afraid of? But Harry didn’t need to ask that question - he knew the answer. Even if he didn’t like thinking about the answer, he knew the answer. He knew that separating was as hard for Louis as it was for him. It was something that neither of them wanted.
He looked down at the key in his hand so that he didn’t have to look at Louis, biting down on his lip and nodding. “Me too, Lou,” he said quietly, sliding the key into his pocket before looking back at Louis - it wasn’t like he very well couldn’t look at him, not when he could still feel Louis’ eyes wide and unguarded and all over him.
Without a second of preamble, Louis reached forward, pulling Harry in for a tight hug and wrapping his arms around his torso, letting out a shaky breath and resting his forehead against his best friend’s shoulder for a moment. He sniffled, let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “I’m such a sopping bastard,” he mumbled.
Harry pulled back just slightly, lifting his shoulders in a shrug and feeling his eyes getting warm with tears. Fuck. Tears. Really? “Then I think that means we’re both sopping bastards,” he pointed out.
Louis just pulled him in again, letting out a shaky breath. “Fuck, I’m going to miss you.”
“I swear to god if you make me cry, Tommo…”
But it was too late and the tears had already slipped down his cheek at this rate and there wasn’t really that much that he could do about it.
His eyes met Louis’ as the shorter of the two pulled back just enough that they could look at each other. Louis’ gaze shifted from Harry’s eyes to his cheek, along his jaw before settling on his lips. A flush of heat shot up Harry’s neck and he swallowed hard, trying his best to ignore the way that he felt as if his heart were about to slam out of his ribcage just at the feeling of Louis’ eyes on him.
And that was when it happened.
All the air escaped Harry’s lungs as he realized that he and Louis were getting closer…closer, still. He didn’t even know who it was that was leaning in, if it was him or if it was Louis. Fuck, maybe it was both of them.
One of Louis’ arms moved up from where it was wrapped around Harry’s torso, fingertips trailing along his arm and over the three tattoos staring back at him. He sucked in a shaky breath, eyes shifting from the tattoos to Harry’s own, and Harry couldn’t believe that the only thought going through his head right now was with regard to how unbelievably long Louis’ eyelashes were.
They were so close together now. Close enough that Harry could swear that he felt Louis’ heartbeat against his chest. His eyelids fluttered shut on instinct, and they just kept leaning in, leaning in until Louis’ lips were grazing against Harry’s. Louis’ arm traveled the rest of the way along Harry’s frame until his hand was sliding along Harry’s neck, wrapping around and allowing his fingers to knot into Harry’s curls as he pulled him into him, pressed their lips together once and for all.
And that was all it took for Harry’s knees to go weak.
On instinct, his arms wrapped tightly, securely, around Louis’ shoulders, unable to ignore what a perfect fucking fit they were. His lips glided along Louis’ effortless, eagerly, as if this was a kiss that was two-plus years in the making. And it was. In its own twisted way, this was always supposed to happen.
Louis’ lips parted, tongue sliding along Harry’s lower lip until his lips were parting open too, quick and happy to oblige. The taller boy knocked them back until they were backed into a wall, clinging to each other like they didn’t know what would happen if they let go.
The game, the game that had been going on for far too long at this rate, was finally over. But Harry had no clue who the winner was, if there was a winner at all. But he was kissing Louis Tomlinson. He had his best friend pinned against a fucking wall and he was pretty damn sure that if that didn’t qualify him as a winner, that nothing else would.
The hand around Harry’s torso slid down to his waist, fingertips dipping beneath the hem of his shirt and running along the bare skin that he’d touched many times before, but never to this extent, never to this level. Harry shuddered at the touch, rucking against him helplessly, involuntarily. He could feel the sparks of electricity racing up and down his veins, his toes curling in on themselves and his heart pounding heavily in time with Louis’. The knot in his stomach had been loosened, was now replaced with a million and one butterflies, and Harry felt like he was floating, drifting, like nothing in the world could ever touch him, touch this moment, touch them.
He didn’t know how long they had been kissing when Louis broke it off, his lips red and puffy and Harry couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride that he had made them look that way. That he was the reason that Louis’ breathing was so labored and uneven.
With Louis’ lips not occupying Harry’s anymore, Harry moved his kisses down, scattering them along Louis’ jaw and to his neck, licking a stripe up a patch of skin before nipping down slightly, kissing the same spot over and over again until Louis was letting out a sharp moan and pulling Harry back up so that he could kiss him again.
Now. They’d had two fucking years and this was finally happening for them now. On their last night. Two years of pent up…whatever the fuck it was and it’d all led to this. And it was fucking over in the same breath that it started.
“Make the most of it…” Louis gasped out into Harry’s mouth, almost as if he were reading his mind entirely.
It was all the permission Harry needed, really. All the permission needed to slide his fingers down Louis’ back enough to grip onto his tee shirt and pull it up and over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side before his hands were roving up and down his bare back once more and Louis was pushing them backwards. They were moving, staggered and sloppily, haphazardly out of the living room and somewhere else entirely, knocking into walls every couple of steps and not really giving a shit.
Harry hummed appreciatively against Louis’ lips, tongue slipping past and running along Louis’ own, coiling and dancing together like velvet. And it was better than anything. Better than any other kiss, any other fuck…anything. Because it was Louis and it was always supposed to be Louis and if Harry had it his way it would always be Louis.
They didn’t stop kissing until they were backed up against Louis’ bedroom door, both boys’ hands reaching out to grab at the doorknob, a battle for dominance to see who could get it opened first.
Their eyes opened in that brief moment, locking onto each other. Everything that they wanted to say out loud was being told through the silence of stares instead, and that was more than good enough for Harry.
He didn’t know what the fuck they were doing or what was going to happen tomorrow. All he knew was that right now, what was meant to have always happened was finally happening. Right now, they were stumbling into Louis’ bedroom and kicking the door shut after themselves, ripping off their clothes in a mad scramble and all but tackling each other to the bed. And it was sloppy and it was racked with nerves, intensity. It was Harry’s hips arching up to meet Louis’ and Louis’ frame rocking back down against him. It was hands intertwining above their heads and it was stars and moons and entire galaxies.
It was Louis and Harry, finally just Louis and Harry, and in that moment, nothing else existed.
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hope you like! i just have a lot of sad louis/harry feels right now.