Fic: Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste (1D, PG-13)
So here's the thing: This angel-faced monster is ruining me.
And he pretty much has been since, oh, April of this year? And I knew I'd eventually cave and write some fic about him, but I'm so pissed off that he continues to torture me that I decided that my first Hstyles fic would feature him not getting laid at all. Suck on that, Harry.
Title: Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste
Pairing: Louis/Eleanor, Harry/Louis
Rating: PG-13 (uh, for swearing?)
Word Count: 4,500
Notes and Warnings: Um, my first 1D fic? And there's no porn at all? FML. Thanks to estrella30 for getting drunk with me and blathering on about Harry Styles.
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure that none of this has actually happened.
Harry hesitates outside of the hotel room Louis is sharing with Eleanor. He's got a key, but he hears a bit of a commotion coming from inside. He's not sure whether it's from a fight or a fuck, so he knocks before letting himself inside.
Louis and Eleanor are sitting on the sofa, looking tense and unhappy. Also fully clothed. Louis looks up at Harry, mouth tight and frustrated. Eleanor looks away, brushing her face like maybe she's been crying.
It's a fight, then.
"Sorry," Harry says haltingly. "I can-" he motions towards the door as if to leave.
"No, really, stay," Eleanor says, sad and shuddery as she stands. "I'll go."
Louis groans, annoyed as he grabs at her wrist. It sounds as if they've been at it for awhile from the way that he complains, "Oh come now. You're being unreasonable."
She doesn't sit back down. "Am I?"
"Yes. This is ridiculous. And we only get to spend so much time together - I really don't want to spend it arguing over nothing."
Harry shifts his weight from one foot to another, feeling equal parts uncomfortable for having intruded and anxious because this looks to be a real argument. "Just need my iPod-" he starts, but Louis and Eleanor aren't even listening to him, so he sets about rustling through the travel bag he thinks he left it in.
He tries not to listen to the conversation, but can't help overhearing.
"He has a key to your room!"
"We all have keys to everybody's rooms!"
"But does anyone else just left themselves in without asking?"
Harry lifts his head at that. "I knocked," he protests.
Eleanor fixes him with a fairly intimidating glare. "Did you hear anyone say 'come in'?"
Harry stands there with his mouth open, caught out.
"Oi!" Louis says, and it takes a moment for Harry to realize that he's saying it to her, and not to him. "This doesn't involve him. No need to be like that."
"But it does involve him," Eleanor says, and Harry stiffens at that.
"What've I done?"
Louis laughs but it isn't a happy laugh. "Guess who," he says bitterly, "is the newest member of the Larry Stylinson fan club?"
Even though he's confused, Harry laughs. He laughs because that's his conditioned response whenever someone brings up Larry Stylinson. It's not particularly funny, though. And neither Louis nor Eleanor are laughing. Especially not Eleanor. She looks miserable.
"What, are you serious," Harry asks, looking back and forth between them.
"Yes!" Louis throws his hands up in frustration. "She thinks we're shagging!"
Harry just stands there, unsure of how to respond. Louis stands and starts pacing back and forth on the carpet. He counts off on his fingers: "It's not enough that those nutters on Twitter think we're shagging. Or that my mum's friends think we're shagging. But now my bloody girlfriend thinks we're shagging," he says loudly. "It's like everywhere I go someone accuses me of shagging you," he mutters in Harry's direction. "I'm starting to feel like maybe I am shagging you and somehow not realizing it." He looks up at Harry, somewhat hysterical. "Is that possible?"
Harry doesn't really know what to say, so he just goes with, "Which of your mum's friends think we're shagging?"
Louis looks up at him, confused, like he wasn't expecting any sort of response.
Harry shrugs and says, "Any cute ones?" He gives Louis a weak smile, and Louis chokes on a laugh.
Harry sneaks a glance at Eleanor, wanting to make her smile, too. "And haven't you heard I'm hashtag Team Grimmy now?" He waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly.
"Always joking," Eleanor says quietly. "I'm sorry but I don't think it's funny."
Louis' face crumples at that, and Harry feels awful for both of them. "You're right," Harry says. "It's not. But if we don't keep a sense of humor about it, the baddies win."
Eleanor shakes her head a few times, wipes at her eyes. "I can't, though. Keep my chin up when everywhere I go people are saying horrible things to me and calling me names and it's utter shit and I really just want it all to stop."
"We all deal with that," Louis says. "You think that doesn't happen to me? It's been- Christ it's been years. I'm told all sorts of things about Harry, about myself, shown photos about how we look at each other, but I swear to you we just look at each other like normal. Right?" He looks over at Harry with both eyebrows raised. "Right?"
Harry nods. "Yeah, right. 'Course."
Eleanor sighs softly, and shakes her head. Louis sits next to her and wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "Maybe Harry stares at me sometimes but you know how he is. He's got a staring problem." He kisses her again, and her shoulders start to relax. "Plus I am really very attractive, so if he does get caught admiring me every now and then, it's really not his fault, yeah?"
"Oi, I only stare at your face to make sure I keep my eyes off of your bum," Harry says, swatting at the air in Louis' general direction.
Eleanor shoves at Louis, pushing him away. "More jokes," she whispers. "I already told you I don't find it funny."
And Eleanor's not even Harry's girlfriend but he swears his heart breaks a little at how sad she sounds. If he can't joke about it, he doesn't really have anything else to say, so he resolves to keep quiet.
"Aw, babes, look. People say things all the time about us and it's frustrating, sure, but it doesn't make it true." He shakes his head at Eleanor, sadly. "You used to laugh that off," he says, and now the smile is gone from his face again. "Just like us," he gestures between himself and Harry. "What's different?"
Eleanor sucks in a shaky breath, and she's blotchy and sad and she's still so pretty. "It's different because-" she turns to face them, "I'm not usually with you both at the same time. Touring is worse. Girls are meaner. People don't- It's easier for me to ignore it when I don't have to see you all the time. Together."
Louis sighs loudly. "Well that's rather inconvenient, seeing as we are touring together for at least another year."
Given the circumstances Harry's not surprised that Louis didn't say, Even if it wasn't my job, I'd still want him around, but he cringes a little at the omission anyway.
"I know," she replies and she doesn't sound anything other than defeated. "I'm not asking you to change anything. I'm just going to go home. I want to go home."
"Fuck," Louis says, frustrated. "I feel like I've gone mental. We've been together for a year. I've been friends with Harry for longer than that - nothing's changed. He's my mate. You're my girlfriend. We can not seriously be having a fight now over whether or not I'm shagging Harry. I am not shagging Harry."
Harry winces at how loud Louis' voice has gone. He thinks about trying to sneak out of the room, but as soon as he glances towards the door, Louis is striding over to him with purpose.
"Harry," he says, somewhat frantically. "Are we shagging now, or have we ever, at any point in time, shagged?"
Eleanor rolls her eyes and says, "Right, then. Don't poke fun."
"Shh," Louis hisses. "We both know that Harry is a lovely human being but he's a shit liar. If you won't believe me, you should believe him. It's what all the nutters want, innit? For Harry to tell everyone the truth? Well let's hear it." He turns back to Harry and repeats, "Harry, have you and I ever shagged, yes or no?"
"No," Harry says quickly and earnestly. He looks over at Eleanor and holds her gaze so that she'll see he's being honest. "No," he says again. "No shagging. Not even a handy between mates," he tries, smiling. He frowns and turns to Louis. "Come to think of it, you're a pretty shit friend. I much prefer Zayn. Much more generous, that one."
Eleanor sniffs. She isn't smiling, but she is nodding slowly, like she believes him. Harry doesn't understand why she doesn't look any happier.
"Okay," she says, and Louis throws his hands up in the air, like he's part-relieved that she believes it now, and part-annoyed that she didn't until Harry said as much. "Not shagging then," she continues shakily. "But do you want to?"
Harry flinches for a fraction of a second, hopes it doesn't show. Louis says, "Pet, this is silly! Of course we don't want-"
But now it's Eleanor's time to do the shushing. "Let him answer," she says firmly, pointing to Harry.
Harry looks up then, finds them both watching him expectantly. "This is silly," is the only thing he can think to say.
"Just tell us," Eleanor says. "Are there any romantic feelings between you," she points a slim finger at him, and then turns it towards Louis, "and him?"
Harry swallows. He looks back and forth between Louis, who's got his arms crossed like this whole thing is simply ridiculous, and Eleanor, who's dropped one hand on to Harry's arm as if to comfort him, but it's really, really not working.
Harry thinks about all of the possible answers he can give here. Thinks about promises he's made to himself, and about how much he genuinely wants Louis and Eleanor to be happy together. He stands there, chewing at his thumbnail for a long moment, considering his options.
Finally he says, "yeah?"
He doesn't mean for it to come out like a question. It's not something he was ever planning on saying out loud, especially not to this particular audience.
Eleanor's face goes smug right away, although the sadness is still there. Louis just stares at him, mouth hanging open. Eventually he says, "What?"
Harry takes a step back, looks away and it's at that moment that he spots his iPod on the table. He looks back over at Louis guiltily and shrugs. "I'm a shit liar," he says by way of explanation.
Louis' eyes go wide, and he sputters, "But we're not- we don't-"
"You don't," Harry says, wishing he had just forgotten about the bloody iPod and skipped this whole thing. "But erm," he looks up at Louis and tries not to sound too apologetic about it. "I- do?"
Eleanor sits down on the sofa again, puts her head in her hands.
"What," Louis says again. "What?"
Harry can't- he can't quite look Louis in the face, so he goes over to the sofa, sits down next to Eleanor. He wants to hug her, to tell her that it's okay, even if there are feelings they are definitely one-sided and she has nothing to worry about, but he's also kind of scared of her, so he settles for putting one hand on her shoulder and rubbing gently.
"Wait, wait," Louis says. "What?"
"He loves you," Harry says quietly.
"He loves you, too," she whispers.
"Not the same."
Eleanor looks up at him then, eyes intense and cheeks flushed from where her palms had been pressing into them. "How do you know that? How can you know that?"
"I am still in the room," Louis says, voice tinged with a note of hysteria. "I am right here. And as much as I am deeply fond of both of you, you do not get to have this conversation without me."
Harry looks up at him then, can't stop his cheeks from going warm when Louis meets his eyes. He's still got his hand on Eleanor's back and he can feel how she shudders when she takes a deep breath in.
"Well then," she says. "What are we going to do?"
Harry turns to her, surprised at the way she said 'we', like perhaps she meant the three of them.
Louis seems to deflate a little at the question. He looks at Harry, then at Eleanor. He breathes out loudly, like it hurts. Like this is a choice he can't possibly make, which is not right.
"Eleanor," Harry says quietly, turning to face her. "He loves you. Just you." She starts to protest, shaking her head, but Harry needs to be clear about this. "I am with him always," he says. "No two people in the world have spent more time together than me and Louis. I have been with him constantly for the past several years, yeah?" He looks at her until she nods. "He's my best friend. And I'm basically-" He doesn't mean to pause, but the words get stuck in his throat. He takes a breath and then pushes them out, not looking over at Louis because that would make this much more difficult. "I'm basically in love with him," he says, feeling a little sick now that he's admitted it out loud.
"Oh God," Eleanor whispers. Her eyes are shiny, like she's going to cry, and that is really not good, because Harry might cry as well, and then he'll really have made a mess of things.
She reaches for his hand, so Harry says, "which means," and gently shakes her off, holding her gaze as best as he can because this is important. "Which means I, er, notice things about him. More than most people would. So if you think there's even a chance that he's interested in me or anyone else, you're wrong. There's no way I would have missed it." He grabs her hand and squeezes. "I promise."
She's looking at him so strangely, so focused on him and Harry doesn't want that. He wants her with Louis, because that's where she belongs. That's what Louis wants. Who Louis wants.
He tugs her off the sofa by the hand, leads her over to Louis. "Now kiss and make up," he says shakily.
He doesn't wait for them to actually snog in front of him, though. Just takes Louis' hand and wraps it around Eleanor's smaller one, and then gives the two of them a simple hug.
"You're going to be okay," he says firmly to both of them. "Right?"
He waits for their nods before he turns and lets himself out of the room, heart pounding against his ribcage.
When he gets back to his room, Harry makes a mental note to buy himself a few extra iPods, just so he can be sure this will never happen again.
A few hours later, there's a knock on Harry's hotel room door. When he opens the door, he's surprised to see Louis there, shifting his weight from leg to leg.
Harry looks at him blankly, confused. "You-" he waves his hands around vaguely. "You knocked?"
Louis nods quickly. He looks nervous.
"Why," Harry asks dumbly. "What are you doing out there?"
"Can I-?" Louis asks tentatively, gesturing towards Harry's room.
Harry blinks at him. Louis clears his throat, but stays in the hall.
"You knocked," Harry says, still flabbergasted.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Louis complains, and marches past Harry into the room. "I'm coming in."
Harry breathes out loudly. "Well thank God for that. I hope you weren't waiting to be announced to the lord of the manor."
"Stop being a ninny," Louis gripes. "Come and sit down." He pats at the cushion of the couch, next to where he's sitting. "I've got some things I want to say to you."
Harry does not like the sound of that. He's had enough humiliation for the day, thank you very much. "You don't have to-" he starts, but Louis cuts him off.
"I don't have to, but I want to, and I will," Louis says sharply. And then, more softly, "So shut up and let me thank you."
Harry closes his mouth. After a moment of silence, he pads over to the couch and plops down next to Louis. "For which part?"
The way Louis blushes is absolutely gorgeous. "For all of it, I suppose," he says quietly.
"Well, yes, any time you're looking for a fake-shag to make your girlfriend jealous, you know who to call." He nudges at Louis' shoulder with his own.
Louis is not smiling. "I'm being serious."
Harry sighs. "I know, and it's frightening. Stop, please."
Louis makes a face, and even though it's meant to be a sour face, it's still rather appealing.
They sit there in silence for a long moment, and it's weird. It's really weird.
"Listen," Harry says eventually. "I've been- I've had these feelings pretty much since the day I met you. Do you know what I mean?" He knows his cheeks are burning, but he figures it's best to get this over with now, so that they can move on. "It's always been like this for me. And it was never weird. Let's not let it get weird now, yeah?"
Louis gapes at him. He sounds positively whiny when he asks, "But why've you never said?"
Harry has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "But why've you never asked?" he shoots back. Louis starts to stutter out a response, but Harry stops him. "Louis," he says earnestly. "It's fine. Honest."
"But we're mates," Louis says, pouting.
Harry slings an arm around Louis. "Best of," he agrees.
"So you should've said something."
Harry sighs and pulls his arm back. "Why? So we could have had this horrid conversation sooner?"
Louis looks down and away. "It's just- I wish I would've known."
"It's fine," Harry says again, hoping Louis will get it this time. "I never said because I never needed to. I've never been unhappy about it." At this, Louis looks up at him searchingly, and it clicks for Harry. "Louis," he says, "I'm not unhappy."
Louis shrugs, like that's not what he was worried about, but Harry knows him too well.
"Look at me," Harry says, and then gives Louis his biggest, goofiest smile. "See?"
Louis snorts, so Harry keeps talking. "You make me happy. You give me- everything I need. I'm not missing out on anything, I promise."
The look of relief on Louis' face is so bloody adorable that Harry wants to kiss him, has to lean on his years of practicing how to suppress that urge. He smiles instead and pokes Louis on the nose. "So don't you worry your pretty little head over me."
Louis makes an indignant snorting noise and swats Harry's hand away. "I'll show you pretty," he grumbles.
Harry gives him a cheeky grin. "'Bout time, then. Let's have it. Kit off, please."
Louis freezes abruptly. Looks down at his lap and chews on his lip and ugh.
Harry slumps back against the couch and lets out a frustrated groan. "Stoooooop," he whines. "Don't make me stop flirting. I don't think I can."
Louis snorts out an amused chuckle, but it's half-hearted at best.
"Are you now honestly feeling guilty for not shagging me?" Harry could not love Louis any more than he does at this exact moment. His friend is ridiculous and it's fantastic. "Because after today, I'm rather glad you're not. I don't think I could handle all of the drama. Poor Eleanor."
He doesn't get much of a reaction out of Louis at that, so he huffs out a breath and says, "Honestly, Lou. Do you think my life is lacking in that respect?"
Louis gives him a sidelong look, and finally a genuine smile. "Yeah I've read in the tabloids that you get plenty."
"Plenty," Harry agrees. "I'm up to my ears in arse. Some even better than yours."
At that, Louis laughs loudly. "You wish," he says, and this time he doesn't even flinch.
Harry grins. "Sometimes," he says, and when Louis shoves him he shoves right back, and things seem like they're going to go back to normal. Or normal for them, anyway.
But then Louis says, "Can I just-" and he slides his hand around Harry's neck and Harry's not even sure what's happening until Louis is kissing him.
Louis is kissing him.
Harry flails for a moment, one foot banging into the side table so hard that actual tears well up, and Louis has to hold his face in both hands and reprimand him. "Hold still," Louis says. "I want to try this."
Harry manages to nod, eyes going wide when Louis leans in again, a tiny frown crinkling his face. Louis tilts his head, looks over Harry's face like he needs to figure it out. He smiles the tiniest bit, and wow. He's just so close, and Harry's spent years staring at Louis but he's still fascinated by the beauty of Louis' face when it's thisclose and so he's kind of zoned out when Louis mouths at him, letting their lips catch and drag in a warm, dry kiss. Louis uses his hands to tip Harry's face to the side slightly and then he's back, pressing a still-chaste kiss to Harry's top lip, one long, sweet suck followed by several soft little kisses that make Harry's stomach clench and twist. He doesn't even realize that he's not kissing back until Louis is pulling away and licking his own lips.
"Huh," Louis says, as if he's just eaten a spider and found it tasty.
"Huh," Harry agrees, although it comes out sounding like little more than a squeak. He coughs and realizes that he's plastered himself to the back of the couch, like he's waiting to be ravished or something equally ridiculous.
Louis shrugs and smiles, and Harry is glad that Louis seems so unruffled, even if Harry is a little disappointed that there was not, in fact, any ravishing. "Gonna go wash up for dinner," Louis says, standing.
Harry grins, still a little breathless, and pulls himself off the couch. He follows Louis to the door for some unknown reason. It's not like Louis can't simply let himself out, but-
"Wait," Harry says, just as Louis is reaching for the door.
Harry sees his own hand, like it belongs to someone else, pressing the door shut over Louis' shoulder.
Louis drops his head forward, and maybe he's sighing, and maybe he's laughing, but all Harry can think of is neck, neck, neck.
"What's that, then?" Louis says to the carpet.
Harry shifts closer, crowding up against Louis' back. "Before you go, can you just tell me," he mutters into Louis' hair. "Was that- am I ever-? Bollocks." He drops his hand to Louis' waist, hooks his chin over Louis' shoulder and sighs. "If that was the only chance I'm ever going to have to kiss you," he finally gets out, "Then I hope you know that I was unprepared, and if I'd known that it was going to happen I would have- done better, or something."
Louis laughs as he turns around, shoves Harry back a step or two. "Not likely," he jokes. "As soon as I get upstairs I'm phoning the Sun and telling them that Harry Styles is a pathetic kisser. For a supposed slag you're rubbish at snogging, really."
Harry tries to smile and say- something, anything, but he just can't. Because this whole day has really caught him off guard and he knows that Louis isn't his, isn't going to ever really be his, but Louis had kissed him and he'd just- sat there.
"Hey, whoa," Louis says, tugging on Harry's shirt, face softening. "I'm just taking the piss."
Harry nods, quickly, because he knows, but his throat is still seized up and he feels a little panicky.
"You need, uh, a what's that called? The golf thing?"
Harry chokes out a surprised laugh. "A mulligan?"
Louis grins. "Yeah, yeah, that's it. Wonder why they call it that? Whoever this Mulligan fellow was, he must have been even more rubbish at golf than you are at kissing." He's teasing, but his eyes are soft, face full of affection.
"Yeah," Harry says quietly, but with a smile. "Yes, I'd like to take a mulligan, if that's alright with you."
"Yeah, 'course," Louis says, eyes flickering down to Harry's mouth.
Harry grins even wider, now, swaying towards Louis. He sees Louis cheeks go pink, sees how Louis licks his lips in anticipation and he thinks, yes, but he makes himself stop while he still can. "Brilliant," Harry says, and takes a couple of steps backwards. "See you at dinner."
Louis frowns, confused. "What about your do-over?"
Harry winks at him. "'M saving it," he says. "For a time when I can really commit to giving it my full and finest efforts."
"Tease," Louis says, lips crooking up in a sideways smile. "I'd actually felt a few flutters in my belly just now, you know."
Harry ducks his head and smiles at the ground. "I think you're just hungry," he says.
"No, no," Louis argues, shaking his head. "I am legitimately disappointed that you didn't just snog the pants off of me."
"Oh God," Harry groans. "Run along now, and leave me with those thoughts of getting you out of your pants."
Louis smiles then, not a wicked smile or an awkward smile, but a real, genuinely happy smile, and Harry knows he's done the right thing.
"I do love you," Louis says suddenly, making Harry look up, startled. "You know that, yeah?"
Harry nods, and he can feel his cheeks flushing hot, but yeah. He knows. That's what makes being friends, band mates, co-workers, really, with Louis both so easy and so difficult at once. Louis loves him, but Harry is in love with Louis, and there's really nothing to be done about it, other than hope that over time it changes, and things somehow end up more balanced between them.
"See you at dinner," Harry says again, softer this time.
"Just make sure you wash your hands," Louis says, grinning as he walks out.
Harry stares at the closed hotel room door for a few long moments. One day soon he's going to kiss Louis again, and for better or for worse, he's going to leave an impression. He pads back through his room and flops down onto the overstuffed bed and thinks about it, not knowing how and when it will happen, but knowing for sure that it will.
And he pretty much has been since, oh, April of this year? And I knew I'd eventually cave and write some fic about him, but I'm so pissed off that he continues to torture me that I decided that my first Hstyles fic would feature him not getting laid at all. Suck on that, Harry.
Title: Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste
Pairing: Louis/Eleanor, Harry/Louis
Rating: PG-13 (uh, for swearing?)
Word Count: 4,500
Notes and Warnings: Um, my first 1D fic? And there's no porn at all? FML. Thanks to estrella30 for getting drunk with me and blathering on about Harry Styles.
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure that none of this has actually happened.
Harry hesitates outside of the hotel room Louis is sharing with Eleanor. He's got a key, but he hears a bit of a commotion coming from inside. He's not sure whether it's from a fight or a fuck, so he knocks before letting himself inside.
Louis and Eleanor are sitting on the sofa, looking tense and unhappy. Also fully clothed. Louis looks up at Harry, mouth tight and frustrated. Eleanor looks away, brushing her face like maybe she's been crying.
It's a fight, then.
"Sorry," Harry says haltingly. "I can-" he motions towards the door as if to leave.
"No, really, stay," Eleanor says, sad and shuddery as she stands. "I'll go."
Louis groans, annoyed as he grabs at her wrist. It sounds as if they've been at it for awhile from the way that he complains, "Oh come now. You're being unreasonable."
She doesn't sit back down. "Am I?"
"Yes. This is ridiculous. And we only get to spend so much time together - I really don't want to spend it arguing over nothing."
Harry shifts his weight from one foot to another, feeling equal parts uncomfortable for having intruded and anxious because this looks to be a real argument. "Just need my iPod-" he starts, but Louis and Eleanor aren't even listening to him, so he sets about rustling through the travel bag he thinks he left it in.
He tries not to listen to the conversation, but can't help overhearing.
"He has a key to your room!"
"We all have keys to everybody's rooms!"
"But does anyone else just left themselves in without asking?"
Harry lifts his head at that. "I knocked," he protests.
Eleanor fixes him with a fairly intimidating glare. "Did you hear anyone say 'come in'?"
Harry stands there with his mouth open, caught out.
"Oi!" Louis says, and it takes a moment for Harry to realize that he's saying it to her, and not to him. "This doesn't involve him. No need to be like that."
"But it does involve him," Eleanor says, and Harry stiffens at that.
"What've I done?"
Louis laughs but it isn't a happy laugh. "Guess who," he says bitterly, "is the newest member of the Larry Stylinson fan club?"
Even though he's confused, Harry laughs. He laughs because that's his conditioned response whenever someone brings up Larry Stylinson. It's not particularly funny, though. And neither Louis nor Eleanor are laughing. Especially not Eleanor. She looks miserable.
"What, are you serious," Harry asks, looking back and forth between them.
"Yes!" Louis throws his hands up in frustration. "She thinks we're shagging!"
Harry just stands there, unsure of how to respond. Louis stands and starts pacing back and forth on the carpet. He counts off on his fingers: "It's not enough that those nutters on Twitter think we're shagging. Or that my mum's friends think we're shagging. But now my bloody girlfriend thinks we're shagging," he says loudly. "It's like everywhere I go someone accuses me of shagging you," he mutters in Harry's direction. "I'm starting to feel like maybe I am shagging you and somehow not realizing it." He looks up at Harry, somewhat hysterical. "Is that possible?"
Harry doesn't really know what to say, so he just goes with, "Which of your mum's friends think we're shagging?"
Louis looks up at him, confused, like he wasn't expecting any sort of response.
Harry shrugs and says, "Any cute ones?" He gives Louis a weak smile, and Louis chokes on a laugh.
Harry sneaks a glance at Eleanor, wanting to make her smile, too. "And haven't you heard I'm hashtag Team Grimmy now?" He waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly.
"Always joking," Eleanor says quietly. "I'm sorry but I don't think it's funny."
Louis' face crumples at that, and Harry feels awful for both of them. "You're right," Harry says. "It's not. But if we don't keep a sense of humor about it, the baddies win."
Eleanor shakes her head a few times, wipes at her eyes. "I can't, though. Keep my chin up when everywhere I go people are saying horrible things to me and calling me names and it's utter shit and I really just want it all to stop."
"We all deal with that," Louis says. "You think that doesn't happen to me? It's been- Christ it's been years. I'm told all sorts of things about Harry, about myself, shown photos about how we look at each other, but I swear to you we just look at each other like normal. Right?" He looks over at Harry with both eyebrows raised. "Right?"
Harry nods. "Yeah, right. 'Course."
Eleanor sighs softly, and shakes her head. Louis sits next to her and wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "Maybe Harry stares at me sometimes but you know how he is. He's got a staring problem." He kisses her again, and her shoulders start to relax. "Plus I am really very attractive, so if he does get caught admiring me every now and then, it's really not his fault, yeah?"
"Oi, I only stare at your face to make sure I keep my eyes off of your bum," Harry says, swatting at the air in Louis' general direction.
Eleanor shoves at Louis, pushing him away. "More jokes," she whispers. "I already told you I don't find it funny."
And Eleanor's not even Harry's girlfriend but he swears his heart breaks a little at how sad she sounds. If he can't joke about it, he doesn't really have anything else to say, so he resolves to keep quiet.
"Aw, babes, look. People say things all the time about us and it's frustrating, sure, but it doesn't make it true." He shakes his head at Eleanor, sadly. "You used to laugh that off," he says, and now the smile is gone from his face again. "Just like us," he gestures between himself and Harry. "What's different?"
Eleanor sucks in a shaky breath, and she's blotchy and sad and she's still so pretty. "It's different because-" she turns to face them, "I'm not usually with you both at the same time. Touring is worse. Girls are meaner. People don't- It's easier for me to ignore it when I don't have to see you all the time. Together."
Louis sighs loudly. "Well that's rather inconvenient, seeing as we are touring together for at least another year."
Given the circumstances Harry's not surprised that Louis didn't say, Even if it wasn't my job, I'd still want him around, but he cringes a little at the omission anyway.
"I know," she replies and she doesn't sound anything other than defeated. "I'm not asking you to change anything. I'm just going to go home. I want to go home."
"Fuck," Louis says, frustrated. "I feel like I've gone mental. We've been together for a year. I've been friends with Harry for longer than that - nothing's changed. He's my mate. You're my girlfriend. We can not seriously be having a fight now over whether or not I'm shagging Harry. I am not shagging Harry."
Harry winces at how loud Louis' voice has gone. He thinks about trying to sneak out of the room, but as soon as he glances towards the door, Louis is striding over to him with purpose.
"Harry," he says, somewhat frantically. "Are we shagging now, or have we ever, at any point in time, shagged?"
Eleanor rolls her eyes and says, "Right, then. Don't poke fun."
"Shh," Louis hisses. "We both know that Harry is a lovely human being but he's a shit liar. If you won't believe me, you should believe him. It's what all the nutters want, innit? For Harry to tell everyone the truth? Well let's hear it." He turns back to Harry and repeats, "Harry, have you and I ever shagged, yes or no?"
"No," Harry says quickly and earnestly. He looks over at Eleanor and holds her gaze so that she'll see he's being honest. "No," he says again. "No shagging. Not even a handy between mates," he tries, smiling. He frowns and turns to Louis. "Come to think of it, you're a pretty shit friend. I much prefer Zayn. Much more generous, that one."
Eleanor sniffs. She isn't smiling, but she is nodding slowly, like she believes him. Harry doesn't understand why she doesn't look any happier.
"Okay," she says, and Louis throws his hands up in the air, like he's part-relieved that she believes it now, and part-annoyed that she didn't until Harry said as much. "Not shagging then," she continues shakily. "But do you want to?"
Harry flinches for a fraction of a second, hopes it doesn't show. Louis says, "Pet, this is silly! Of course we don't want-"
But now it's Eleanor's time to do the shushing. "Let him answer," she says firmly, pointing to Harry.
Harry looks up then, finds them both watching him expectantly. "This is silly," is the only thing he can think to say.
"Just tell us," Eleanor says. "Are there any romantic feelings between you," she points a slim finger at him, and then turns it towards Louis, "and him?"
Harry swallows. He looks back and forth between Louis, who's got his arms crossed like this whole thing is simply ridiculous, and Eleanor, who's dropped one hand on to Harry's arm as if to comfort him, but it's really, really not working.
Harry thinks about all of the possible answers he can give here. Thinks about promises he's made to himself, and about how much he genuinely wants Louis and Eleanor to be happy together. He stands there, chewing at his thumbnail for a long moment, considering his options.
Finally he says, "yeah?"
He doesn't mean for it to come out like a question. It's not something he was ever planning on saying out loud, especially not to this particular audience.
Eleanor's face goes smug right away, although the sadness is still there. Louis just stares at him, mouth hanging open. Eventually he says, "What?"
Harry takes a step back, looks away and it's at that moment that he spots his iPod on the table. He looks back over at Louis guiltily and shrugs. "I'm a shit liar," he says by way of explanation.
Louis' eyes go wide, and he sputters, "But we're not- we don't-"
"You don't," Harry says, wishing he had just forgotten about the bloody iPod and skipped this whole thing. "But erm," he looks up at Louis and tries not to sound too apologetic about it. "I- do?"
Eleanor sits down on the sofa again, puts her head in her hands.
"What," Louis says again. "What?"
Harry can't- he can't quite look Louis in the face, so he goes over to the sofa, sits down next to Eleanor. He wants to hug her, to tell her that it's okay, even if there are feelings they are definitely one-sided and she has nothing to worry about, but he's also kind of scared of her, so he settles for putting one hand on her shoulder and rubbing gently.
"Wait, wait," Louis says. "What?"
"He loves you," Harry says quietly.
"He loves you, too," she whispers.
"Not the same."
Eleanor looks up at him then, eyes intense and cheeks flushed from where her palms had been pressing into them. "How do you know that? How can you know that?"
"I am still in the room," Louis says, voice tinged with a note of hysteria. "I am right here. And as much as I am deeply fond of both of you, you do not get to have this conversation without me."
Harry looks up at him then, can't stop his cheeks from going warm when Louis meets his eyes. He's still got his hand on Eleanor's back and he can feel how she shudders when she takes a deep breath in.
"Well then," she says. "What are we going to do?"
Harry turns to her, surprised at the way she said 'we', like perhaps she meant the three of them.
Louis seems to deflate a little at the question. He looks at Harry, then at Eleanor. He breathes out loudly, like it hurts. Like this is a choice he can't possibly make, which is not right.
"Eleanor," Harry says quietly, turning to face her. "He loves you. Just you." She starts to protest, shaking her head, but Harry needs to be clear about this. "I am with him always," he says. "No two people in the world have spent more time together than me and Louis. I have been with him constantly for the past several years, yeah?" He looks at her until she nods. "He's my best friend. And I'm basically-" He doesn't mean to pause, but the words get stuck in his throat. He takes a breath and then pushes them out, not looking over at Louis because that would make this much more difficult. "I'm basically in love with him," he says, feeling a little sick now that he's admitted it out loud.
"Oh God," Eleanor whispers. Her eyes are shiny, like she's going to cry, and that is really not good, because Harry might cry as well, and then he'll really have made a mess of things.
She reaches for his hand, so Harry says, "which means," and gently shakes her off, holding her gaze as best as he can because this is important. "Which means I, er, notice things about him. More than most people would. So if you think there's even a chance that he's interested in me or anyone else, you're wrong. There's no way I would have missed it." He grabs her hand and squeezes. "I promise."
She's looking at him so strangely, so focused on him and Harry doesn't want that. He wants her with Louis, because that's where she belongs. That's what Louis wants. Who Louis wants.
He tugs her off the sofa by the hand, leads her over to Louis. "Now kiss and make up," he says shakily.
He doesn't wait for them to actually snog in front of him, though. Just takes Louis' hand and wraps it around Eleanor's smaller one, and then gives the two of them a simple hug.
"You're going to be okay," he says firmly to both of them. "Right?"
He waits for their nods before he turns and lets himself out of the room, heart pounding against his ribcage.
When he gets back to his room, Harry makes a mental note to buy himself a few extra iPods, just so he can be sure this will never happen again.
A few hours later, there's a knock on Harry's hotel room door. When he opens the door, he's surprised to see Louis there, shifting his weight from leg to leg.
Harry looks at him blankly, confused. "You-" he waves his hands around vaguely. "You knocked?"
Louis nods quickly. He looks nervous.
"Why," Harry asks dumbly. "What are you doing out there?"
"Can I-?" Louis asks tentatively, gesturing towards Harry's room.
Harry blinks at him. Louis clears his throat, but stays in the hall.
"You knocked," Harry says, still flabbergasted.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Louis complains, and marches past Harry into the room. "I'm coming in."
Harry breathes out loudly. "Well thank God for that. I hope you weren't waiting to be announced to the lord of the manor."
"Stop being a ninny," Louis gripes. "Come and sit down." He pats at the cushion of the couch, next to where he's sitting. "I've got some things I want to say to you."
Harry does not like the sound of that. He's had enough humiliation for the day, thank you very much. "You don't have to-" he starts, but Louis cuts him off.
"I don't have to, but I want to, and I will," Louis says sharply. And then, more softly, "So shut up and let me thank you."
Harry closes his mouth. After a moment of silence, he pads over to the couch and plops down next to Louis. "For which part?"
The way Louis blushes is absolutely gorgeous. "For all of it, I suppose," he says quietly.
"Well, yes, any time you're looking for a fake-shag to make your girlfriend jealous, you know who to call." He nudges at Louis' shoulder with his own.
Louis is not smiling. "I'm being serious."
Harry sighs. "I know, and it's frightening. Stop, please."
Louis makes a face, and even though it's meant to be a sour face, it's still rather appealing.
They sit there in silence for a long moment, and it's weird. It's really weird.
"Listen," Harry says eventually. "I've been- I've had these feelings pretty much since the day I met you. Do you know what I mean?" He knows his cheeks are burning, but he figures it's best to get this over with now, so that they can move on. "It's always been like this for me. And it was never weird. Let's not let it get weird now, yeah?"
Louis gapes at him. He sounds positively whiny when he asks, "But why've you never said?"
Harry has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "But why've you never asked?" he shoots back. Louis starts to stutter out a response, but Harry stops him. "Louis," he says earnestly. "It's fine. Honest."
"But we're mates," Louis says, pouting.
Harry slings an arm around Louis. "Best of," he agrees.
"So you should've said something."
Harry sighs and pulls his arm back. "Why? So we could have had this horrid conversation sooner?"
Louis looks down and away. "It's just- I wish I would've known."
"It's fine," Harry says again, hoping Louis will get it this time. "I never said because I never needed to. I've never been unhappy about it." At this, Louis looks up at him searchingly, and it clicks for Harry. "Louis," he says, "I'm not unhappy."
Louis shrugs, like that's not what he was worried about, but Harry knows him too well.
"Look at me," Harry says, and then gives Louis his biggest, goofiest smile. "See?"
Louis snorts, so Harry keeps talking. "You make me happy. You give me- everything I need. I'm not missing out on anything, I promise."
The look of relief on Louis' face is so bloody adorable that Harry wants to kiss him, has to lean on his years of practicing how to suppress that urge. He smiles instead and pokes Louis on the nose. "So don't you worry your pretty little head over me."
Louis makes an indignant snorting noise and swats Harry's hand away. "I'll show you pretty," he grumbles.
Harry gives him a cheeky grin. "'Bout time, then. Let's have it. Kit off, please."
Louis freezes abruptly. Looks down at his lap and chews on his lip and ugh.
Harry slumps back against the couch and lets out a frustrated groan. "Stoooooop," he whines. "Don't make me stop flirting. I don't think I can."
Louis snorts out an amused chuckle, but it's half-hearted at best.
"Are you now honestly feeling guilty for not shagging me?" Harry could not love Louis any more than he does at this exact moment. His friend is ridiculous and it's fantastic. "Because after today, I'm rather glad you're not. I don't think I could handle all of the drama. Poor Eleanor."
He doesn't get much of a reaction out of Louis at that, so he huffs out a breath and says, "Honestly, Lou. Do you think my life is lacking in that respect?"
Louis gives him a sidelong look, and finally a genuine smile. "Yeah I've read in the tabloids that you get plenty."
"Plenty," Harry agrees. "I'm up to my ears in arse. Some even better than yours."
At that, Louis laughs loudly. "You wish," he says, and this time he doesn't even flinch.
Harry grins. "Sometimes," he says, and when Louis shoves him he shoves right back, and things seem like they're going to go back to normal. Or normal for them, anyway.
But then Louis says, "Can I just-" and he slides his hand around Harry's neck and Harry's not even sure what's happening until Louis is kissing him.
Louis is kissing him.
Harry flails for a moment, one foot banging into the side table so hard that actual tears well up, and Louis has to hold his face in both hands and reprimand him. "Hold still," Louis says. "I want to try this."
Harry manages to nod, eyes going wide when Louis leans in again, a tiny frown crinkling his face. Louis tilts his head, looks over Harry's face like he needs to figure it out. He smiles the tiniest bit, and wow. He's just so close, and Harry's spent years staring at Louis but he's still fascinated by the beauty of Louis' face when it's thisclose and so he's kind of zoned out when Louis mouths at him, letting their lips catch and drag in a warm, dry kiss. Louis uses his hands to tip Harry's face to the side slightly and then he's back, pressing a still-chaste kiss to Harry's top lip, one long, sweet suck followed by several soft little kisses that make Harry's stomach clench and twist. He doesn't even realize that he's not kissing back until Louis is pulling away and licking his own lips.
"Huh," Louis says, as if he's just eaten a spider and found it tasty.
"Huh," Harry agrees, although it comes out sounding like little more than a squeak. He coughs and realizes that he's plastered himself to the back of the couch, like he's waiting to be ravished or something equally ridiculous.
Louis shrugs and smiles, and Harry is glad that Louis seems so unruffled, even if Harry is a little disappointed that there was not, in fact, any ravishing. "Gonna go wash up for dinner," Louis says, standing.
Harry grins, still a little breathless, and pulls himself off the couch. He follows Louis to the door for some unknown reason. It's not like Louis can't simply let himself out, but-
"Wait," Harry says, just as Louis is reaching for the door.
Harry sees his own hand, like it belongs to someone else, pressing the door shut over Louis' shoulder.
Louis drops his head forward, and maybe he's sighing, and maybe he's laughing, but all Harry can think of is neck, neck, neck.
"What's that, then?" Louis says to the carpet.
Harry shifts closer, crowding up against Louis' back. "Before you go, can you just tell me," he mutters into Louis' hair. "Was that- am I ever-? Bollocks." He drops his hand to Louis' waist, hooks his chin over Louis' shoulder and sighs. "If that was the only chance I'm ever going to have to kiss you," he finally gets out, "Then I hope you know that I was unprepared, and if I'd known that it was going to happen I would have- done better, or something."
Louis laughs as he turns around, shoves Harry back a step or two. "Not likely," he jokes. "As soon as I get upstairs I'm phoning the Sun and telling them that Harry Styles is a pathetic kisser. For a supposed slag you're rubbish at snogging, really."
Harry tries to smile and say- something, anything, but he just can't. Because this whole day has really caught him off guard and he knows that Louis isn't his, isn't going to ever really be his, but Louis had kissed him and he'd just- sat there.
"Hey, whoa," Louis says, tugging on Harry's shirt, face softening. "I'm just taking the piss."
Harry nods, quickly, because he knows, but his throat is still seized up and he feels a little panicky.
"You need, uh, a what's that called? The golf thing?"
Harry chokes out a surprised laugh. "A mulligan?"
Louis grins. "Yeah, yeah, that's it. Wonder why they call it that? Whoever this Mulligan fellow was, he must have been even more rubbish at golf than you are at kissing." He's teasing, but his eyes are soft, face full of affection.
"Yeah," Harry says quietly, but with a smile. "Yes, I'd like to take a mulligan, if that's alright with you."
"Yeah, 'course," Louis says, eyes flickering down to Harry's mouth.
Harry grins even wider, now, swaying towards Louis. He sees Louis cheeks go pink, sees how Louis licks his lips in anticipation and he thinks, yes, but he makes himself stop while he still can. "Brilliant," Harry says, and takes a couple of steps backwards. "See you at dinner."
Louis frowns, confused. "What about your do-over?"
Harry winks at him. "'M saving it," he says. "For a time when I can really commit to giving it my full and finest efforts."
"Tease," Louis says, lips crooking up in a sideways smile. "I'd actually felt a few flutters in my belly just now, you know."
Harry ducks his head and smiles at the ground. "I think you're just hungry," he says.
"No, no," Louis argues, shaking his head. "I am legitimately disappointed that you didn't just snog the pants off of me."
"Oh God," Harry groans. "Run along now, and leave me with those thoughts of getting you out of your pants."
Louis smiles then, not a wicked smile or an awkward smile, but a real, genuinely happy smile, and Harry knows he's done the right thing.
"I do love you," Louis says suddenly, making Harry look up, startled. "You know that, yeah?"
Harry nods, and he can feel his cheeks flushing hot, but yeah. He knows. That's what makes being friends, band mates, co-workers, really, with Louis both so easy and so difficult at once. Louis loves him, but Harry is in love with Louis, and there's really nothing to be done about it, other than hope that over time it changes, and things somehow end up more balanced between them.
"See you at dinner," Harry says again, softer this time.
"Just make sure you wash your hands," Louis says, grinning as he walks out.
Harry stares at the closed hotel room door for a few long moments. One day soon he's going to kiss Louis again, and for better or for worse, he's going to leave an impression. He pads back through his room and flops down onto the overstuffed bed and thinks about it, not knowing how and when it will happen, but knowing for sure that it will.