85. | probably bad luck anyway

[hopefulgenius]

85.

probably bad luck anyway
but don't let it make you feel sad
liam/louis (4779 words)

FUCK YES. This pollen!fic has been plaguing me for the longest time and I finally came home from work last night and sat and wrote it all out. It's lowercase because I thought it might help to write it if I pretended it wasn't happening, and, ha, it still took me like three weeks. IDK you guys. You can tell that this was written over a long time, and you can probably tell what I added last night, but I DON'T CARE. I'M DONEEEE. \o/ this is obviously for president aceface, who decided she wanted to post fic out of nowhere yesterday just to show me up. I FORGIVE YOU lol jk no everyone should go read her fic instead of being here.

tl;dr HERE'S FIC.

louis wakes up and knows, instinctively, that he has to move somewhere to his right or he will die.

it’s a queer thought to have at three in the morning, and he mulls it over a second before his body practically wrenches itself out of the bunk and across the bus to the other side where liam and niall are sleeping. his body hums, almost buzzing, and it’s better but still not right, still not okay, and louis scrambles to understand what is happening when liam rolls over and a hand falls out of his curtain, fingers curled and wrist a pale, blue tint in the crap lighting.

louis reaches up and touches his hand, meaning to push it back into his bunk, and relief spreads over his body. it’s like he touched a fire that only warms you, doesn’t burn, like he’s curled up on the most comfortable bed, like a hand is running through his hair soothingly. he makes a soft noise and presses his face against liam’s hand and his body rejoices.

“muh?” liam says. “wha -- what’s up?” the curtain opens and liam’s brown eyes peer out, sleepy and almost ridiculously pretty. “louis.” the fact that he doesn’t sound surprised at all would offend louis at any other moment, but he’s currently trying to keep from purring out loud. “what are you doing.”

“nnnghhh,” harry groans. “stop being gay until it’s time to wake up, you bastards.” harry is a surprisingly light sleeper.

it’s hard to catch in the dim light, but louis can tell liam starts blushing. “er,” louis says, “couldn’t sleep.”

liam squints at him and then pulls his hand away from louis’ face. louis’ body protests, but he doesn’t think that he’ll die.

(fuck, what is he even thinking right now. his body is making decisions for him. his body wants him to crawl into the bunk with liam and never, ever let go. louis would normally be okay with this thought, but the fact that it’s not really within his control is freaking him out a bit.)

he contemplates going back to his bunk, but the thought scares him slightly and he’s nothing if not good with gut-feelings. he crosses his fingers and tries to look pitiful. “can i sleep with you tonight?” he considers, then adds, “or for the next four hours or so?”

he can tell liam is thinking about it, wondering why he doesn’t ask harry or even niall, but clearly he’s too tired to protest much and instead sighs and scoots over. louis’ body erupts into excitement and he gingerly climbs into the bunk until he’s flush against liam.

“go to sleep,” liam orders him, and louis suddenly feels exhausted, like the adrenaline has left his body and there’s no reason he shouldn’t go to sleep, so he does so.

he wakes up because liam has managed to get out of bed without waking him, but he’s crossed half the bus and louis retches and falls out of the bunk, chest heaving and body wracked with pain. he presses the heels of his hands until stars burst behind his eyes just to try to distract himself from the agony ricocheting around his skull.

“what the hell, louis?” zayn asks from the bunk over harry, leaning out with his finger stuck in a magazine. “are you ill?” niall shouts something from the kitchen that louis can’t make out through the screaming in his head.

“fuck--” louis wheezes, and liam turns around and sees him and hurries back over, and the feeling lessens and then disappears when liam touches his shoulders. niall’s shouting in the kitchen, “has he thrown up yet? i cannot find a good bowl for him to vomit into, we eat out of this stuff--”

“i’m okay,” louis gasps, but he reaches out and grabs liam. “i’m fine. but--”

harry comes from the bathroom, completely naked but for his boxer shorts. he looks down at them, louis panting from the floor, zayn leaned halfway out of his bunk, and liam crouched next to louis. “you lot,” he says, rolling his eyes. “so dramatic.”

which is really something coming from harry, who plans the best way to look into the camera by practicing in the mirror. “whatever you say ari,” louis says. “but next time say it without having curlers in your hair.”

“clever,” harry responds, grinning. “what’s all this, what are you doing on the ground?”

“he’s sick,” liam says firmly, and louis’ body feels like it’s going to expire from happiness because they’re still touching. he sighs and it must sound pleased because liam furrows his brow. “or at least he was.”

louis takes a breath. “about that. there seems to be something wrong with me.”

“well, what is it?” harry asks, just as niall comes out of the kitchen area with a rather ugly bowl thrust forward as if he were going to catch anything louis might start spewing with it. he holds it out helpfully and then practically wilts when he sees louis sitting up and looking perfectly fine under liam’s hands. louis almost wishes he were sick.

“i’m not really sure how to explain it,” he starts off, because he’s not sure how it’s happening, or why. he just knows it has to do with liam.

(if this is his subconscious fucking with him, like some sort of mind-game he’s playing with himself to get attention from liam, he will die of sheer mortification.)

“helpful,” zayn comments, still half-out his bunk. louis chews his lip and looks up at liam, who’s hovering over him and still concerned. louis tries to keep from flushing.

“here, i’ll -- i guess i can show you. liam, you should -- can you walk away from me, in that direction?”

liam looks bemused. “did i do something?”

“no!” louis says hurriedly. “you just seem to be a part of this thing, whatever it is. so, you know, a few steps that way, please?”

liam stands up and louis braces himself. liam glances unsuredly at him again and then steps away, once, towards the kitchen. nothing happens, and louis nods at him to keep going.

liam steps again. louis feels fine.

liam steps again. a vague unease, but nothing important.

liam steps again, and louis grits his teeth because a dull buzz of pain starts up. he gestures for liam to continue.

liam steps again, and a flare of pain erupts throughout louis, but it’s not unbearable. it hurts, but not as much as before, when he fell out of bed -- he gasps and harry moves towards him, brows furrowed. he touches louis on the shoulders with both hands and looks him in the eyes.

“louis,” he says, “louis, stop it. whatever you’re doing, stop it, this isn’t funny.”

“not being funny, mate,” louis says, laughing weakly. liam, looking thoroughly freaked out, steps once more, and louis doubles over, feeling as if his body is stretching itself inside-out, looking for ways to move towards him but unable to all at once. he aches all over, like his nerves are on fire, like he’s burning into pieces, like he’s dying by being alive; he falls over, body going limp. harry’s hands grip more firmly, and he hears someone shout, “louis!”

and then it fades to black.

he wakes up with harry’s hair in his face. “gross,” he says, “they taste of hairspray.”

“you’re okay!” harry yells, leaning up from where his ear was pressed against louis’ chest and thumping him on the shoulder soundly. louis lets out a small ‘oof’ and winces, but he feels okay again -- he doesn’t feel like he’s bursting at the seams into little pieces anymore. he tries to take in his surroundings but his head shifts when his pillow moves, distracting him.

“this is fucked up,” says whatever he’s laying on. louis tilts his head up a little bit and sees that his head is in liam’s lap. liam frowns down at him and louis blinks. “am i supposed to believe that you can’t get too far away from me or you’ll experience so much pain you actually pass out?”

louis pretends to think about it. “yep, i’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening here.”

“what the hell did you do?” niall’s voice comes from somewhere above harry, who hasn’t stopped crowding around louis.

“pissed off some sort of deity is the best guess i’ve got,” louis confesses. “or magic. someone is magical and not telling me and making my life miserable.”

“normally i would make fun of you for saying that sort of stuff,” harry tells him, “but seeing as you just fainted like a girl in my arms i’m going to believe you.”

“oh harry,” louis says, sitting up properly, carefully, aware of every inch widening between him and liam, “did you catch me? did you save me when i swooned into your manly arms?” he flutters his lashes and harry laughs and puts a hand on his head, ruffling his hair.

“your head hit the floor so hard the bus shook a bit,” zayn answers. “liam almost had a fit.”

liam flushes and crosses his arms, still sitting on the ground. “i know that they don’t seem it, lads, but concussions are a real thing.”

“hush your mouth,” louis gasps, and liam crooks a small smile at him. louis is glad to see it, happy that within the strangeness that his life has become somewhere in the last twelve hours, there are still moments where liam will smile at him.

“well,” harry says, clapping his hands. “the best thing is to figure out what we need to do.”

they do experiments, niall finding a tape measure stolen from a tech and louis holding one end of it while liam moves away from him bit by bit until he has to bite his tongue to keep from crying out.

“i’d say our maximum distance is ten feet,” niall announces, and liam hurries back to louis before he topples over. “five is better and touching is best.”

“using the bathroom is going to be a lesson in hilarity,” louis pants as liam loops an arm under his to help hold him up. his body going through so many different extremes of pain and pleasure is exhausting, and he’s not sure that he’s still not going to pass out, even though liam is touching him and everything is bathed in a warm glow of awesome.

liam makes a face. “thanks for that. it wasn’t my main concern but now--” he shrugs and louis grins up at him.

harry chews a thumbnail, regarding them. he’s pretty much declared himself in charge of this situation, mostly because zayn decided that he was going to pretend none of this was actually happening.

“we’re going to keep this between us,” he says finally. “if the label finds out, or the press, or whoever, this is just going to cause a bunch of issues for us. they might break us up.”

(louis is pretty sure they’d just pull him out -- it’s not like he’s a huge contributing factor to the group, mostly there because only four of them would look strange and they need a spastic, ridiculous boy to round out the boyband cliches. boys like that are easily found, and they can just say that louis had to quit for family reasons, or because he moved to siberia, or whatever.)

they all agree to keep it a secret. harry insists on an exceedingly complicated pinkie-promise that makes louis proud.

niall and louis trade beds, and that makes things much easier. it’s not a huge deal, really, because they’re all usually very close together on the bus anyway, and it’s a matter of making sure they never get too far away when they leave for gas station stops or that their mics are next to each other at shows. it’s easier than anyone expected.

louis starts to even like it -- he’s spending a ridiculous amount of time with liam, and it’s something he wanted but wasn’t sure he was able to ask for. they watch stupid movies together, louis screeching along to the musical ones and liam rolling his eyes. they make pancakes, liam surprisingly adept at flipping them properly and louis attempting to make shapes with the batter. they read books (“yes,” louis says longsufferingly, “i read books. other than the no jimmy protested book, yes,” he adds and liam stifles laughter.) curled up next to each other on the couch.

every day, at the end of the day, they test and see if the -- whatever it is, is still there. every time louis feels the same horrible pain and liam is forced to hurry back to louis’ side, grabbing his arms and pressing his fingers to his temple as if he’s smoothing away even the memory of the pain.

(on stage liam leans in towards him, only a few feet away, and says as loudly as he dares, trying to be heard over the screams, “are you alright?”

louis is surrounded by a crowd of people who are shouting for his attention, and there are lights flickering above them in a thousand different colors, and the air is still vibrating with their voices, and yes, of course, he’s fine. he’s perfect.

liam blinks at him, grinning even though he probably doesn’t realize he’s doing it, and louis grins back at him and nods.)

liam seems to be taking the absolute loss of any privacy he might have had pretty well. he doesn’t complain when louis drapes himself over him, although he does still tense up a lot. and he still mostly just stares into space when they’re forced to change together, lips firmly pressed closed and eyes over louis’ shoulder like louis will care that he knows what his chest looks like, honestly. they’re all lads, after all.

or -- perhaps louis has been a bit obvious with his feelings. louis chews his lip, looking over at liam where he’s sitting at the kitchen table, only a few feet away, laughing with zayn. louis isn’t exactly subtle, and even harry is giving him looks like he’s being over the top (and harry has no room to talk about anything, ever).

so maybe louis is talking about liam more than ever, and maybe he sang him that song once, and maybe he isn’t exactly hiding how he feels. he’s got an excuse for all of that now, with this stupid magicky thing making it so he can say whatever he likes and liam can’t leave. and maybe the continue exposure is doing insane things to his already exponentially sized feelings. but maybe liam is noticing and it’s making him uncomfortable, but he can’t say anything because he can’t get too far from liam.

louis glances over at harry, who’s texting someone but looks up as if he can feel someone staring at him. he raises his brows and glances back down, texting again. louis’ phone beeps.

realize how much of a girl youve been? youve got this weird look on your face.

louis frowns at his phone and sends harry a look that hopefully conveys that things will be done to his hair products. looking in mirrors too much again, curly?

harry gives him an unimpressed look and types some more. dont be mad that u cant get any.

louis makes a point of putting his phone in his pocket and standing up. he’d really like to be able to just go lay in his bunk for a while, but liam is deep in conversation with zayn and louis can’t just be like fuck that i want to sulk in my bed for a bit, come sit with me.

he feels incredibly resentful all of a sudden, and he hates harry and his all-knowing grins and zayn and the fact that liam isn’t forced to hang out with him by some sort of stupid curse, liam just wants to, and he hates liam because he likes him so much that it’s a bit inevitable that he’d hate him for that.

(niall is free from his hate because louis has actually come to the conclusion that it’s impossible to hate niall, he’s too tiny and blonde and irish.)

he decides to sit behind the couch, slumped up against the wall. harry snorts, but he doesn’t have much of a choice here and at least he can’t see anyone else and they can’t see him. he just curls up into himself for a moment and tries to think about everything without letting himself get distracted.

because that’s what’s been happening, here. louis hasn’t even been pretending that he’s trying to stop this thing from happening, this weird stupid curse thing, because he likes it like this, and he doesn’t see why things should go back to the way they were before. he can’t even really remember what he and liam talked about before, but it wasn’t pancakes, or liam’s frankly hilarious crush on leona lewis, or niall’s potential heartbreaking crush on harry. it wasn’t anything that meant anything, and louis sees no reason to have to go back to that.

and yeah, liam’s been okay, but what if he gets tired of it? what if he starts pushing away? only he won’t, because liam is too fucking noble to do that, so he’ll just let it all build up until things explode and louis will probably die, either from a broken heart or because this curse thing will finally just kill him.

“i just really like him,” liam confesses to zayn, and louis stops fretting for a moment to listen in. liam has to know louis is nearby, but his voice is louder than louis would’ve thought for a conversation like this. is louis meant to hear this?

then louis realizes that liam is a bit drunk, it sounds like, and wonders how the hell harry managed to get alcohol onto the bus without management knowing and not getting caught despite being in their third week of tour. zayn is chuckling a little.

“just say something, yeah? you know he--”

“no, no, shut up,” liam slurs, “no. especially right now, what with the -- the spell thingy, i can’t do that--”

louis can’t figure out a proper way to stop hearing this so he covers his ears with his hands and closes his eyes, pretending that the muffled sound of conversation is just the television. so. so. liam likes someone. but he can’t say anything because of this stupid fucking thing, this issue that is all louis clinging to him as hard as he can, and liam is just going to continue to get drunk and talk to zayn and louis is just -- louis is just --

louis bites his lip and stays where he is until he hears liam get up from the table; then he follows him as he stumbles his way into bed, and crawls into his own bunk and tries to sleep. he has very little success.

there’s obviously nothing louis can do about still having to be around liam, but he makes a conscious effort to make it less physical. he keeps at least a foot between them all the time, even though his skin buzzes irritably like it can’t understand why it’s going without touch when liam is so close and touchable. he tries to keep harry around at all times, just as someone else to hold onto.

“i’m a placebo,” harry complains, and louis bites his hair and glances at liam where he’s on the couch listening to music and casting glances their way every now and then.

“you’d actually have to be working to be a placebo,” louis tells him, and harry rolls his eyes but keeps his arms curled around louis.

liam doesn’t say anything but he has to notice. this is a complete turn around from the way they’d been acting for the last week or so, and sometimes he makes a move like he’s going to put an arm around louis and louis has to act like he doesn’t notice and move out of the way and liam looks a bit confused, like he never expected that louis doesn’t need to be coddled, doesn’t need his pity hugs or something.

which is mean, it is, but his ability to care has been severely diminished since that overheard conversation, and liam can look hurt all he wants but louis is actually having his heart broken, thanks very much, and he’s being as mature as he can about this.

(his body burns brightly all the time, it seems, like he’s got a fever or like he swallowed the sun, and every cell in his body leans towards liam, pulling him there like liam is a bigger star for him to rotate around. liam watches him all the time, now, not even bothering to act like he’s not. louis cannot think properly anymore.)

it happens after a show, when they’re heading back to the dressing rooms to calm down and wait for all of the tech to be packed up. there are two small ones at this venue and louis starts to follow harry and niall and zayn into one, but liam taps his shoulder and gestures at the other, and that’s the second time they’ve touched in three days, so louis’ sort of melts as the pressure eases off of his skin and follows him.

“did i do something?” liam asks. “on stage, earlier--”

liam had tried to sling his arm around louis’ shoulders, and louis had flinched back and stepped forward, like he hadn’t noticed. it was painfully obvious and he hates that he did it, but he’s trying here, he’s trying to make a distance, to make it known that he’s not here to hold liam back.

“it’s nothing,” he says wearily, and the buzzing starts up in his body again.

“no,” liam insists, “it’s not nothing. i did something, these past few days you haven’t be nearly as -- as yourself and it’s not like you’re doing it to everyone, it’s just me, when i should be the person you--”

“i heard you, alright?” louis interrupts. liam goes rigid and his fists clench at his sides. then he schools his face into placidity and lets them unclench again. “the other night, talking to zayn, i heard you.”

“you heard that.” liam says tonelessly. “i thought you were too busy talking to harry--”

“wasn’t,” louis says, smiling a little but without humor. “and it’s -- whatever, liam, i don’t hold it against you. i understand.”

“you -- you understand,” liam repeats, looking pale, “you don’t -- that’s what you have to say.”

“what do you want me to say?” louis asks sharply, “that i’m sorry? i didn’t ask for this, you know, it’s not my fault--”

“yes it is,” liam says, getting louder, “yes it fucking is your fault, you idiot, and you don’t have to act like it’s some sort of hardship--”

“well it is!” louis says, voice breaking, “it’s fucking hard to be around someone you like all the time while they like someone else and you can’t leave because of some stupid fucking curse and you need to touch them all the time but you can’t, okay, it’s hard and i fucking--”

he takes in liam’s shocked face and spins on his heel, storming out of the room and slamming the door shut. he hears it lock behind him and realizes that liam is trapped in the room and feels viciously vindicated, and it’s the first time they’ve been really separated in weeks.

his head pounds and his heart is shattering into pieces.

“louis!” he hears. “louis, open the door, what do you mean like--”

louis takes a few determined steps down the hallway, and then stops when he can’t go any further without passing out. his pulse is racing and his body is pulsing and his face is wet and liam is shouting something, hitting the door and saying, “louis, louis, what are you doing, are you there--”

louis tilts his head to the side and lets go.

he wakes up on a couch. he’s confused for a moment, because this couch is not on the tour bus or in his house, and then he realizes they’re still at the venue. he becomes gradually aware that someone is latched onto him, and looks down, expecting it to be harry.

it’s liam.

everything in louis seizes up a bit and he tries to sit up too quickly -- he trembles from the shock of it, and liam looks up at him and then kisses him, hard.

louis barely has time to realize it’s happening, to sway into it, before liam is pulling back, looking embarassed but serious. “are you alright?”

the answer is not surprisingly i’m kind of fucking fantastic also this couch is big enough for us to have sex on, but louis just says, “i’m okay. um.”

“you twat,” liam says. “i like you.”

louis blinks. “oh. well. that makes quite a lot of sense.” liam rolls his eyes.

“obviously for your grand modesty,” he tells him, and his arms unwind from around louis so he can sit up and look around properly. they’re alone in the dressing room again, but louis has no doubt that the boys are pressed up against the wall in the room next to them. “and you like me, then?” liam presses.

“i thought that was obvious,” louis admits. “hence my attempt to stop being so needy despite the curse.”

“well, that was stupid,” liam says matter-of-factly, and it kind of was, so louis has no retort, so he kisses liam again. liam responds instantly, pushing back up against him, and louis manoeuvres it so that he’s on top of him and they’re pressed together all along their bodies.

“i’m not--” liam pants, “having sex with you on a venue couch. that’s gross and a level of trashy i’m not quite at.”

“when we’re on our third album and washed out and in our thirties?” louis suggests, licking a long stripe up liam’s neck and delighting in the shudder it elicits.

“sure,” liam says, sounding distracted. “yeah.”

louis loves him so much it hurts; liam, with his big brown eyes and his stupid bieber hair and his red, lovely mouth. he leans in to kiss him again and then pulls back reluctantly. “well. we should at least let the lads think i got lucky.”

“just you?” liam asks, sitting up and brushing a hand through his hair, and louis lets out a loud, exaggerated moan and goes, “oh god, liam, you’re so good--”

liam claps a hand over his mouth and seethes. “what the hell, there are other people outside--”

louis continues to moan loudly through his hand and slaps his hand against the wall above the couch a few times. liam looks like he’s going to die of mortification, and louis smiles and licks his hand, which is still over his mouth.

“don’t joke, louis, we know you’d be on bottom!” harry shouts through the wall, and liam laughs at that and louis has to as well. he stands up and pulls liam off the couch, twisting their hands together and walking out of the room.

“he’s completely wrong,” he tells liam. “don’t go thinking i’m going to just let you at my sweet arse for nothing, alright--”

“shut up, louis,” liam says fondly, intertwining their fingers properly.

louis does, but only because he loves liam quite a lot.

(they discover, quite by accident, that the curse is gone sometime in the next six hours, when louis stumbles out of liam’s bunk to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and realizes he’s pissing in the toilet which is like twelve feet from the bunks and that he has no problems whatsoever, and his shouts of excitement wake up all the boys but then they dissolve into this huge pile of happy limbs and hugs and biting, so it’s all right in the end. louis ends up nipping liam’s ear, too, and when he crawls back into bed with him ten minutes later, he nips it again just to see him shiver. it’s lovely to be the one making someone else want his touch.)