many moons have come and gone (hs/lt)
title: many moons have come and gone
pairing: harry styles/louis tomlinson
disclaimer: hilariously untrue.
word count: ~8,500
summary: they can never seem to communicate when it matters. but it's all love, anyway. SEQUEL TO blackjacks running down my back.
notes: um, so from what i've gathered, 'blackjacks' was kind of a hit with y'all, so i really hope this isn't a disappointment! infinite thanks to my one true, influira for everything, and of course miss_mady for her encouragement, and everyone on tumblr for their massive love. you're all absolutely fantastic and i appreciate every single thing you say to me. also i have a ton of comments to catch up on and leave on fic and i'm so behind, i'm really really sorry!
here's the mix for this one. it's not as good as the last one, but it's important, i guess.
"Lou."
Louis groans slightly, wondering why a polar bear is talking to him. Why this polar bear knows his name.
"Lou!"
Seriously, though. Louis didn't even know polar bears could speak.
"Louis, hey, love, wake up," and oh. Louis blinks his eyes open, grumbling nonsense under his breath.
Harry's standing next to the bed, stroking Louis' fringe off his forehead. "Hey, babe, I've gotta go. I'll see you tonight after the shows?"
Louis blinks some more, still hazy from arctic dreams and too-early hours. "Wha'?"
Harry bites his lip before leaning over and pressing quick kisses to Louis' cheek, temple, nose, forehead. "Have to meet up with my bio group before class, then I'm busy all day," he says.
"Oh," Louis says. "We haven't, like, hung out in a long time, Haz."
"I know." Harry sighs, grabbing Louis' hand from next to the pillow, twining their fingers together briefly. "I'm sorry. It's just... you know. My classes are getting crazy."
"Yeah," Louis says and Harry kind of twists his mouth sadly. Louis brings their hands up to his mouth, kissing Harry's knuckles. "This weekend?" he asks.
Harry opens his mouth, and his expression causes Louis' stomach to drop.
"Never mind," Louis says, cutting him off. He forces a smile. "We'll figure it out. Study hard. Do me proud, and all that."
Harry twitches his lips into an almost-smile back and squeezes Louis' hand, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. "I'll see you later. Love you."
"Love you," Louis says back and curls up under the covers again, wrapping his arms around himself.
*
"Hello, party people!" Louis chirps into the microphone. "I hope you're having a lovely evening already, because it's about to get pretty wicked. Here's Katy Perry with 'Teenage Dream' and I don't want to hear any complaints about how it's like sooo 2010, because I love this song and you know you do too."
He presses play and slips off the headphones, just as one of the producers walks in the booth.
"Lou!" Greg says. "Hey!"
Louis tilts his head back, getting an upside-down view of Greg. "I didn't swear! I am a hundred percent positive I didn't swear!"
Greg laughs. "No, I know, I'm literally just saying hi."
"Oh," Louis says, and he takes his feet off the counter and swivels his chair around to face him. "Well. Hi!"
"Can I sit?" Greg asks, motioning to the empty chair next to Louis.
Louis rolls his eyes. "No," he says. "Get away from me."
"So what are you playing next?" Greg says as he sits down, sliding the chair closer to see Louis' playlist.
Louis growls and tilts his screen away. "Get away. You're awful."
"Wait," Greg says. "Did I really just see 'My Boo'? Are you serious?"
Louis sniffs. "I don't know about y'all but I know about us."
"And-uh-it's the only way we know how to rock," Greg finishes. "Let me guess. You're dedicating that to darling Harold?"
"Shut up," Louis says, and leans back in, switching on the mic. "Alright, and I'm thinking tonight is going to be a throwback night, because here's Usher featuring Alicia Keys with 'My Boo.' Relive being thirteen again, because having a crush when you're thirteen is quite honestly the best feeling."
He presses play and sticks his tongue out at Greg. "I'm a hit," he says.
Greg rolls his eyes. "Believe me, darling, I know. So, what's your Harry dedication tonight, then, if not fucking 'My Boo'?"
"Ugh," Louis says, pulling a face. "I'm not a complete sap, you know."
"Louis," Greg says. "Louis."
"Shut up!"
"Let me see your playlist and see if I can guess, okay?" Greg reaches out to take his laptop.
Louis rolls his eyes, but hands it over. "You're not going to get it."
Greg snorts. "Try me." He starts scanning over the list of songs quickly, making considering sounds. "These are all love songs. You are actually disgusting."
"They're not all for Harry!" Louis protests. "Just, like..."
"Most of them?" Greg finishes, arching an eyebrow. "I may puke."
"Shut up!" Louis says again. "Guess. I'm interested now."
"Okay," Greg says. "Okay, using my intense detective powers, I'm going to guess 'Crazier' by Taylor Swift, because you usually choose Swifty for him. Because you're a little arsehole."
Louis smiles and the Usher starts fading out, so he switches the mic back on and says, "This next one is dedicated to our own Harry Styles, who's up next. It's called 'Crazier' and it's by Harry's favourite, Taylor Swift."
As soon as he hits play, his phone buzzes on the counter and Greg makes to grab it but Louis gets there first, sending Greg a warning look.
i hate you xxxxxxx
Louis smiles to himself, typing back, love you miss you ): xx
"That the lover boy?" Greg asks, tilting dangerously in his chair, trying to peer at the screen.
"Seriously, James, you need a sense of privacy," Louis says, sliding his phone in his pocket.
"Oh, you know I'm just jealous," Greg says, a teasing lilt in his voice, and Louis rolls his eyes.
"Don't you have actual work to do?" Louis asks, kicking out at him.
Greg shrugs. "I mean, my main job these days is making sure you don't swear on air, so here I am, doing that."
Louis wrinkles his nose. "Does this mean I'm going to have to put up with you in here every Monday?"
Smiling winningly, Greg says, "Don't pretend like that doesn't send shivers down your spine."
Louis huffs a laugh, shaking his head. He pulls up his email and leans back into the mic.
"Alright, guys, I've gotten quite a few emails this week, but I've only got time for one tonight, so I'm really sorry! I'll try to get back to everyone privately. Anyway, this is from 'A Lot Of Nothing Ever,' which, nice acronym, and she says: dear louis, i'm twenty years old and i've never been on a date or kissed or anything and i'm wondering if there's something wrong with me. i just have no interest in doing that with anyone and i don't even really like being touched that much. do you think there's something wrong with me?"
Louis sits back a little, straightens up in his chair, and clears his throat. "Okay, ALONE, this is a really interesting email, and thank you for trusting me, and us, enough to send it, because I know that can't have been easy. But first off, no. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, and before I say anything else, I need you to know that. Everyone is different, and everyone's sexuality is different. I'd recommend doing a bit of research on asexuality and aromanticism and similar labels, because maybe if you find something you identify with, you'll feel a little bit less alone. But labels are ultimately just that: labels, and they're just words. The most important thing is to feel comfortable and accepting of yourself, and to realise that you are not weird or broken or wrong at all, no matter what society might make you think. Good luck, and feel free to write again."
Greg's kind of staring at him and Louis raises an eyebrow, before continuing, "And now, we're gonna hear some Rita Ora. Here's 'Shine Ya Light.'"
He turns back to Greg. "What?"
Greg shrugs. "You're really good at that."
"Well," Louis says, rolling his eyes. "Thanks for noticing, I guess."
"I've never seen the master in action," Greg says. "It adds a certain something."
Louis feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he pulls it out.
try to stay awake after my show ;) i have a surprise
Louis purses his lips in an attempt not to smile, but he hears footsteps down the hall anyway and fixes his eyes on the doorway.
Harry appears through it within seconds. His eyes light up as soon as he sees Louis.
"Hey, you," he breathes, and flicks a glance over at Greg. He nods, saying, "Oh, hey, Greg."
Greg nods back, smiling politely. "Alright, Harry?"
"Yeah, mate, thanks. How are you doing?" Harry asks, standing halfway between the door and Louis, and Louis doesn't appreciate this.
"So, Greg," Louis says loudly, cutting him off preemptively. "Weren't you just saying you had really important work to do elsewhere?"
Greg's raises his eyebrows until they crawl up towards his hairline. "Was I? Must have slipped my mind."
"Nope," Louis says. "I'm almost certain there was something that was quite urgent that must be taken care of."
"Ah," Greg says, tapping his nose and pointing at Louis. "Yes, the top-secret, ultra-confidential, case-sensitive uni radio business. You're right. Thank god you reminded me."
Louis smiles beatifically. "S'what I'm here for."
Greg gets up and heads for the door, giving Harry a quick slap on the back as he passes by. He pauses just before turning into the hallway and looks back at Louis. "Seriously, though, Lou. Good show."
Louis waves him off. "Thanks, mate. See you later."
Harry's watching Louis when he turns back to the controls. "One more song," Louis tells him. Harry nods, smiling softly.
"Alright, guys, I'm about to hand this over to Harry," Louis says into the mic, "so I'm gonna leave you with some Adele. This is her cover of 'Make You Feel My Love.' See you next week. You're all beautiful."
He flips off the mic and slides out of his chair, wriggling into Harry's lap and presses a series of soft kisses to his mouth. "Hey," Louis whispers, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair.
Harry's hands come up to stroke down Louis' back, squeezing lightly at his hips, pulling him tight. "Hey, you," Harry whispers back. "How was your day?"
Louis shrugs. "Missed you."
"Yeah," Harry says, and looks down. "I know. Me too."
"Hey," Louis says. "Hey, Haz, look at me. It's okay, yeah? You're busy. I get it."
Harry shakes his hair out of his eyes. "I know. I just. It sucks, you know? I just want to be around you all the time."
Louis smiles into Harry's eyes. "We should see if Hallmark's hiring."
"Shut up," Harry laughs. "I'm trying to be, like, serious."
"I know, love," Louis says, chuckling a little. He kisses the tip of Harry's nose. "Fuck school, right?"
Harry sighs. "Yeah. Everything's just getting dumped on me right now, you know? Like it's my last term and suddenly I have more work than ever. Combined."
Louis kisses the top of his head, now. "If there's anything I can help you with, you know. Just tell me."
Harry shakes his head a little, as if to clear it. He smiles and digs his fingers into Louis' side, right where he's most ticklish. Louis squeaks, squirms. "I love you, you know," Harry says.
Louis laughs. "I know, you freak. Play your stupid, unlistenable music and I'll see you at home." He slides off Harry's lap and gathers his gear, throwing it into his bag. As he heads toward the door, he turns back and arches a cheeky eyebrow in Harry's direction. "Is this surprise something I should, ah, prepare for?"
Harry smirks down at his laptop, before turning to wink at Louis. "If you felt like, I suppose. Or you could leave that to me."
Louis smiles. "See you in a bit, love."
Harry waves. "Listen."
"Always."
*
As soon as Louis flips on the radio when he gets back to their flat, Harry's rich voice floats over him as he says, "This next on is for Louis. It's called 'Atlas Hands' by Benjamin Francis Leftwich. Love you."
Louis smiles to himself, rubbing his hands over his face. He drags out his copy of Anna Karenina and his notebook, settling at the dining room table with a cup of tea.
They only have three months of university left, and on one hand Louis is unbearably excited. He's thrilled for the opportunity to become a real person, to make his own decisions and fuck things up on his own, and experience that whole scary in-between space of not having a career and not being in school. He's been hearing from Radio 1 producers about maybe taking an internship there and his stomach twists because ever since he sat in the radio studio his first year of school, he's wanted to do this.
And he thinks London would be a spectacular place to live on his own for the first time. The whole world is in London, or some stupid cliche that Liam would probably burst out with, completely unironically.
There's just - it's just, like. He and Harry haven't talked about anything. They talk about everything else that pops into their heads - every stupid half-thought about varieties of cheese or what Gordon Ramsay would look like in a thong, but they haven't talked about what they're going to do in three months.
The thing is, if there's one thing Louis is not insecure about, it's his relationship with Harry. They've been together for two months, officially, but Louis likes to discount their years of being stupid, so he really just calls it forever.
Forever has a nice ring to it, he thinks.
But he's worried that Harry's not thinking about forever. He's worried Harry's got his own future all sorted. He's worried, mostly, that Harry's not considering them in his forever.
"I've got a plan; I've got an atlas in my hands," sings the radio.
Louis sighs, presses his palms into his eyes. He opens his book and takes out his highlighter. Homework now, he thinks.
*
"Lou," says the rabbit, this time. "Lou."
Louis blinks, lifts his head up. A page sticks to his cheek. Harry's smiling down at him again. "Tolstoy not getting you off tonight?" he asks.
Louis groans. "Time's it?"
"A little after midnight. Let's just go to bed, love," Harry says, tugging on his elbow gently.
"No," Louis protests feebly. "You had a surprise."
Harry laughs. "It can wait, babe."
"No," Louis says again, pouting. "I want a shag."
"Lou," Harry says, leveling him with a look. "We're both tired. Let's just..."
"Harry," Louis whines. "Shag me. Shag me shag me shag me."
Harry sighs. "We'll see, yeah?"
Louis groans, but heaves himself up from the table, leaving everything spread out. He'll deal with it tomorrow. He follows Harry into his bedroom, which has morphed into their bedroom and that thought never fails to warm him up.
Harry starts stripping down and Louis sits on the bed, watching. Harry throws him a pointed look. "Get changed."
Louis sighs, pulling off his shirt and tugging down his trousers, grabbing a teeshirt from the floor, lifting it over his head. As it settles, Harry's staring at him again, this time with a decidedly different look in his eyes.
Louis raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Harry grins wickedly. "Love you in my clothes," he says simply.
Louis glances down at himself, noting how the shirt hangs down, almost grazing his thighs, pulled loose over his collarbones. "Ah," he says, smiling.
Harry shakes his head ruefully, saying, "Come here," holding out his hand.
Louis kneels on up on the bed, tugging Harry down to kneel on the other side, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I miss you," he whispers against Harry's lips.
Harry sighs. "I miss you all the time," he says back, sliding his hands down Louis' ribs to settle one on his arse, the other on the back of Louis' thigh, hitching him closer so their legs are entwined, thighs laced together so Louis is straddling one of Harry's.
Pressing their lips together, Harry gently turns them, holding onto Louis tightly, dipping him down so they're lying flat on the bed, Harry leaning over Louis, hips pressed together.
Louis lets out a soft noise, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, tangling their tongues together. Harry groans a little, shifting himself so they're better lined up, letting their half-hard cocks graze together through the thin cotton of their pants. Louis' eyelashes flutter, and he slides his legs out from underneath Harry's, brings them up to wrap around his waist, hitching his hips up pointedly.
"Lou," Harry sighs, breaking away. "You're so tired."
"I'm not!" Louis argues. "I rested, remember? Tolstoy read me a bedtime story."
"Lou," Harry says, and Louis lets out a sharp noise.
"Harry, I barely see you. You're always out studying or at class or who the fuck knows what and I never see you and right now you're here and I miss you and I want you, okay? So can you fuck me or get me off or something?" Louis snaps.
Harry pulls back a little, blinking. "Lou," he starts.
Louis sighs. "Sorry. Just. Sorry. I don't mean to, like, blame you. Sorry." He lets his legs fall back to the bed and glances away.
Harry brings his hand up to brush Louis' fringe from his eyes, running his fingers delicately along his eyebrows, his cheekbones, down to rub over his bottom lip. "I hate this, too, you know?" he says.
"Yeah," Louis says quietly. "Yeah. It just sucks being the one waiting around."
Sighing heavily, Harry rolls off Louis to slump next to him, sharing the pillow. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth," he says.
Louis shakes his head. "No, I'm not, like, looking for an apology. You have to do what you have to do. I get it. I'm just being selfish. I'm sorry."
Harry leans in again, kissing a trail up Louis' neck. His hand slides under the t-shirt Louis is wearing, and he rubs lightly at Louis' ribs, hand spanning across his side, thumb stroking a circle into the soft skin of his stomach. He trails his fingers down lightly to play at the waistband of Louis' pants. "We could...?" Harry offers.
Louis smiles sadly at him, resigned. "No, you're right. I'm tired. We'll just... you're right."
"Lou," Harry says softly.
Louis shrugs a little, pecking a kiss to Harry's lips, and another to his cheek. He turns over, back to Harry, but keeps ahold of Harry's hand, bringing it around him and holding it close to his chest, pressing the palm against his heart.
Harry curves his body around Louis', pulling them together so they're touching from ankles to where Harry's mouth is pressed against Louis' neck.
"I love you," Harry whispers.
Louis tightens his grip on Harry's hand. "I know," he says.
*
Harry's gone when Louis wakes up the next morning. There's a note tucked inside the Tolstoy on the kitchen table.
tried to wake you to say goodbye but you needed the sleep i guess. love you. i'll see you tonight. maybe dinner in? if you want. i love you xxxx
Louis sighs and crumples the note in his fist, before immediately feeling guilty and flattening it out again, using it to hold his place in the book.
He texts Zayn, brekkie?
After a shower and getting dressed, there's a knock at the door. He pulls it open.
"Alright?" Zayn grumbles.
Louis shrugs. "What's up with you?" he asks, studying Zayn, noting his flat hair and dark circles under his eyes, with an outfit Louis is sure hasn't been washed in awhile.
Zayn grunts, shrugging back. "Up all night."
Louis snorts, waggling his eyebrows. "I see."
Rolling his eyes, Zayn shakes his head. "Paper."
"Oh, ew."
"Yeah. Dining hall?" Zayn offers.
Louis nods, grabbing his jacket. He shoves his hands in his pockets and they walk in silence across campus.
Finally, Zayn says, "Gonna tell me what's wrong, then?"
Louis pulls a face. "It's nothing."
Zayn laughs humourlessly. "It always is. Go on, then."
"It's just-" Louis stops, sighs. "It's stupid, like, I shouldn't complain, really."
"Lou," Zayn says.
Louis huffs out a breath. "Okay, well, it's like, Harry's classes have gotten really intense lately, and he's just never around. And if he is, he's always tired and just. Out of it. I don't know. It's not his fault and I shouldn't complain."
Zayn hums thoughtfully as they reach the dining hall. He pulls the door open and holds it for Louis. They wander through the buffet lines, grabbing a bagel each and some orange juice, with a cup of coffee.
"I mean," Zayn says, picking up the thread as they sit down, "have you talked to him?"
Louis shrugs. "I mean, a little? But, like, what can I say? Tell him to drop out of class and focus all of his attention on me? It's not his fault," he says again. "And it's not like it's forever."
Zayn raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, speaking of, have you guys talked about what happens next?"
Louis studies the poppy seeds on his bagel. "Have you and Liam?" he asks, avoiding the question.
"Uh," Zayn says, "yeah, Louis. I think we talked about that first when we started dating. Two years ago."
Louis glances up at Zayn. "Seriously?"
"You guys haven't talked about that?" Zayn says, incredulous. "Louis."
Louis bites his lip and looks across the room at nothing, eyes unfocused. "I just. I just have no idea what he wants," he says quietly.
"Lou," Zayn sighs. "He wants to be with you. He's wanted to be with you since you fucking met, alright? You both just have to figure out what that means, you know?"
"But what if he gets a job in Liverpool, or something? And I get a job in London? How's that going to work?" Louis asks, a hysterical note in his voice.
"Well," Zayn says slowly. "That's something you have to talk about. With him. Like a proper grown up in a proper relationship, Lou."
"But I don't want to scare him off!"
Zayn widens his eyes. "You think telling him that you want to make your relationship work in real life is going to scare him off?" he asks. "Have you ever met Harry? Has he changed drastically since I last saw him?"
Louis picks up on the unspoken are you stupid? implied in Zayn's tone. He picks at his bagel again. "I know, shut up," he says. "I just. You know."
Zayn shakes his head. "You gotta get past your weird insecurities about this, Lou. He wants to be with you and you want to be with him and everything beyond that is details."
"I hate talking to you," Louis says by way of reply.
Zayn snorts. "You hate being called out, more like."
Louis shakes his head, but lets it go at that.
*
That afternoon, after his Russian Literature class, Louis is trudging back across campus, thinking idly about getting coffee before going back to the flat to get started on his paper.
"Louis Tomlinson!" comes a voice booming behind him.
He turns, and once again, "Are you stalking me, Greg James?" he asks, smiling.
Greg grins sunnily. "I just can't reign in my excitement, I guess."
Louis shakes his head. "What're you up to?"
"Just got out of class," Greg replies. "Gonna get some coffee. You?"
"Oh," Louis says, blinking. "Me too."
"Great!" Greg holds out his elbow, as if he's in the 1720s, and Louis rolls his eyes, ignoring it.
Greg carries on. "I have so much to do tonight, god, it's like the professors don't care that it's spring and all we care about is getting laid and the sun!"
Louis snorts. "I feel you. I've got a paper due in two days and I keep falling asleep on it."
Greg hums sympathetically. "I know, right? I have to work on massive proofs and also keep little shits like you from fucking up this grand university's reputation on the airwaves."
"Life's rough," Louis agrees.
"So where's lover boy?" Greg asks.
Louis shrugs and doesn't say anything, squinting into the hazy brightness of English sunlight.
"Uh oh," Greg says. "Trouble in paradise? You crazy kids will work it out."
Louis clenches his jaw. "Everything's fine, mate, thanks."
Greg's expression softens. "Do you wanna talk, or something?"
Louis shrugs again, and plops down into a booth at the far corner of the cafe. He bats his eyelashes up at Greg. "I'd love a latte," he says.
"Oi, I see," Greg says, laughing. "Fine, but when I get back, we'll chat, yeah?" He points at Louis, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
"Whatever," Louis says, smirking. "Skim milk, please."
Greg rolls his eyes. "Okay, princess."
Five minutes later, Greg sits down across from Louis and slides a mug toward him. "Now, spill. All the dirty details. I'm invested, you know."
"Are you?" Louis asks, arching an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes," Greg says. "Can't bear to see the cutest couple ever to walk the earth fall apart."
"Gross," Louis says.
"Please, mate, you two dedicate songs to each other every show. It's puke-worthy, is what it is."
"Don't hate me because you ain't me," Louis sings, smirking.
"Oh, shut up," Greg says. "Is everything okay, though?
Louis' lip twitches as he takes a sip of his coffee, sobering slightly. "I mean, yeah, everything's fine. We're just busy and, like, I miss him, I guess."
Greg nods. "Yeah, the end of the year is rough like that. Have you planned out what you're gonna do next year?"
Louis scrubs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He says, sharply, "Jesus, why do we have to have everything planned out already? Why does it matter? Why can't it just be like, hey, let's move to Morocco, and have done with it? It's not a fucking big deal."
"Whoa," Greg says, eyes widening. "Uh, it is kind of a big deal to most people, is all. I just figured you two would be that kind of couple. Sorry."
Louis actually wants to scream, maybe, because being lectured on this for the second time in a day is pretty specifically something he's not interested in, and it's stupid that all these other fucking people think they know his relationship better than he does, or Harry better than he does, when in actuality, Harry won't even talk to him about it, so what the fuck could they know?
"Whatever," Louis says. "It's whatever. Who knows what will happen next year? Maybe we won't even be together. This whole conversation is stupid. I have homework."
But Greg's not looking at him anymore, because Greg's looking up and to the right of Louis' shoulder, face carefully blank and eyes very, very startled.
Louis closes his eyes.
"Oh," Harry says from behind him. "Okay."
"Harry," Louis says quietly.
Greg stands. "I'm gonna - yep, okay," he says, and disappears quickly back out into the commons.
Louis turns to face Harry, who's frozen behind him. "Harry," he says again.
Harry blinks a few times, eyes glassy and huge. "I didn't know you felt that way," he says, and fuck, his voice breaks on that last word.
Louis feels like he might actually have a knife through his stomach. "I don't. Harry. You know I don't."
"I have to go meet with my study group," Harry says, staring down at the ground. "Maybe I'll see you later, I guess."
"Harry," Louis whispers, "please." He stands up and reaches out to catch Harry's arm, pulling him closer. "Please. I didn't mean that. I don't feel that way."
Harry squeezes his eyes shut. "I really have to go, Louis," he says, twisting out of Louis' arms.
Louis laughs hollowly, brittle. "Yeah. You always do."
"Right," Harry mumbles, stumbling back. "Right."
Louis watches him leave. "Fuck," he whispers to himself. "Fuck."
*
Harry doesn't come back to the flat that night, and Louis knows he's with Niall, because he's not stupid, but there's still the what if what if what if running through his head incessantly.
Zayn texts him around midnight.
you're a motherfucking idiot.
Louis curls around himself on Harry's empty bed. i know.
this is exactly what i said you should not do, you actual shit for brains cunt, Zayn sends back almost immediately.
Louis throws his phone across the room and it lands on a pile of Harry's dirty clothes.
He's not going to cry, is the thing. He's not.
*
The next few days are tense. Harry is barely around, but that's become status quo. It hurts more now, though. It hurts more now, because Harry's not crawling into bed late at night for cuddles and kisses and soft whispers as they drift off to sleep.
It hurts more, because Louis hears the front door close quietly after midnight every night, and then he hears Harry's bedroom door close just as quietly a few minutes later. Louis pulls his comforter over his head and tries not to think about how long it's been since he's slept in his own bed, in his own room. He tries not to think about how long it's been since he's slept alone.
He goes to class and he wanders around campus aimlessly, listening to shitty, sad, love songs and staring at the sky and ignoring every single text or call from Liam or Zayn or Niall, and he curls up in his bed in his own room and he ignores the click of the door every night and he is totally, totally fine.
By the time Monday rolls around, Louis hasn't actually seen Harry in two days. There are only hints to his existence around the flat - a few more dishes in the washer, a jumper across the back of the couch that wasn't there the day before, the quiet sounds of another life, just out of reach.
Louis doesn't even know if they're broken up or not.
He doesn't cry.
He doesn't.
*
Greg's waiting in the studio when Louis gets there. Louis quirks his lips up into a facsimile of a smile, the best he can do.
"Lou," Greg says. "Hey, um. How are you?"
"Smashing, mate," Louis says flatly. "You probably should sit in this week. Watch my language and all that."
Greg hesitates, then nods. "I... I just. Fuck. I'm so sorry. I feel responsible?"
Louis shrugs. "Don't. My fault."
"If - if you want to talk, or anything..." Greg offers, trailing off.
Louis stares at him for a moment.
"Actually, the last time I tried that, I ended up losing the best thing in my life, so," Louis says with an edge to his voice. He sighs immediately. "Sorry. Sorry. No. It's not your fault at all. Just. Ignore me."
"It'll be okay," Greg says. "He loves you so much."
Louis clenches his jaw and tightens his lips. "Please stop," he says quietly.
Greg nods and reaches over, nudging the microphone in front of Louis. "Go get em, tiger."
Louis shakes himself, straightens up, and flips on the mic. "Hey, pretty ladies. And boys, I choose to believe. I hope you're all fantastic tonight, because you deserve it. I'm Louis Tomlinson with your favourite radio show on air, so let's get it going. To kick us off, here's some Ke$ha with 'The Harold Song.'"
He presses play and pushes the mic away, pulling out the headphones and letting the song fill the room, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed.
"Oh, Lou, no," Greg says. "Come on, mate, none of this."
"Greg," Louis says, forcibly polite through his teeth. "Please don't take this the wrong way but kindly fuck off."
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he grabs for it with embarrassing desperation. He glances at the screen. Niall. He sighs, but opens it.
he's listening x is all it says.
As the song fades out, Louis leans back in. "Alright, here's 'Viva Forever' by all our favourites, Spice Girls. Had such a crush on Geri, back in the day. As you do."
After a few minutes, Greg speaks up again. "Christ, Lou, you're going to make everyone suicidal. You better have some Girls Aloud coming up, or something."
"I do!" Louis says defensively.
Greg narrows his eyes. "What song?"
"A good one, fuck off."
"Louis."
Louis sighs. "'I'll Stand By You'?" he says tentatively.
"Give me your laptop," Greg orders.
"No!"
Greg looks at him for a moment, before his expression melts into something softer. "I just want to see, Lou, I won't change anything."
Louis rolls his eyes, slides over his laptop. Greg furrows his brow immediately.
"Louis," he says. "You're the only person in the world who could find a sad Mika song, I swear to god."
"It's not sad," Louis snaps, and grabs the mic. "Next up is Mika with 'Blue Eyes.' Hope you're all studying hard and all that. I'll get to some of your emails next."
As soon as he says it, his email pings and he wrestles the laptop away from Greg, aiming an elbow at his pancreas. "Jesus," Greg gasps.
Louis quickly opens his email, scanning over it. "Ugh," he says. "My mood has affected others."
Greg shoots him a flat look.
"Shut up," Louis says absently.
As the song fades out, Louis leans back in. "Alright, now, I had a different email prepared, but I just got this one and I think it fits better with the theme of the show tonight. So here we go. It's from Lost In A Mudpuddle, apparently, and they say: hey, louis. so i know this couple who recently sort of broke up but not really and they really need to talk it out, but i don't know how to get involved without appearing to take sides. they're both my best friends and one is hiding away and not seeing anyone and the other is throwing everything into school and ignoring the problem. what should i do? i love them too much to let this happen."
Louis straightens up and rolls his eyes at Greg, who's looking lost. "Well, LIAM," he says wryly, "I'd recommend staying out of it, because it's none of your bloody business, and they'd probably appreciate being left alone. Thanks anyway, mate." Louis takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes, tugs at his fringe a little, and then he leans back in and adds quietly, "Take care of him, please," and then, in a much louder voice, he says, "And now, here's Girls Aloud with 'I'll Stand By You'."
There's a shuffling in the doorway behind them, and Louis whips around. Harry's standing there, clutching his bag across his chest and staring at the ground. "I can, um, wait in the lobby," he mumbles, turning to leave.
Louis shoots Greg a get the fuck out look and says, "No. No, Harry, wait."
Harry pauses and Greg squeezes by him, giving him a small smile and giving Louis a stern look.
Louis swallows. "Hey."
Harry kicks at the ground a little with his shoe. "Hey." He doesn't look at Louis.
Glancing rather desperately at the time left on his song, he says, "Harry, I'm so sorry. We need to talk and I need to... I need to know that we can fix this."
Harry raises his eyes to Louis' then, and Louis bites his lip, because Harry's eyes are sad and sunken and the skin underneath them is bruised and his mouth is bitten red and turned down. He shrugs at Louis. "If we're not going to be together after we get out of here, what's the point?"
The song's coming to an end and Harry quickly pulls out his laptop, leaning into the mic. "Hey, everyone. Harry Styles here. Gonna start you off with some Imagine Dragons. Here's 'Bleeding Out.'"
"Harry," Louis says.
Harry turns back to Louis and rubs a hand over his face, through his hair. "Go home, Louis. We can talk when I get back."
So Louis nods - because what else can he do? - and trudges to the door. He pauses, leaning his head on the doorjam. "I love you," he says to the floor.
Harry's quiet for a long moment and Louis swallows, prepares to leave without an answer for the first time.
But then, "I love you, too," he says quietly. "Go home."
*
The first thing Louis does when he gets home is turn on the radio.
Jack's Mannequin is playing, and Louis falls back on the couch, pulling a throw pillow over his face. Harry would never play this, if not for him. Louis isn't even sure how they got here, really. He's not sure why he hasn't cornered Harry before now, caught him and held him till he let Louis explain, till he understood.
He's not sure why Harry hasn't cornered him and yelled at him, made him apologise, explain, something.
Harry's voice fills the flat, then. "That was Jack's Mannequin with 'Swim,' which, sorry. Guess you're getting two depressing shows back to back. Here's Stabilo with 'Kidding Ourselves.'"
Louis curls in on himself, then, and stares at the wall for the next hour, letting Tegan & Sara, To Have Heroes, and Rilo Kiley wash over him.
Harry comes back on, "Alright, before I let Dev take over, I have two songs left. This first one is The Swell Season with 'In These Arms,' and after that you'll hear Hope with 'Who Am I To Say.' Hope this gets the point across. See you all next week."
"Yeah, Harry," Louis mumbles into the dark room, "I fucking get it." He throws the pillow as hard as he can at the radio. It switches off.
Twenty minutes later, Louis hasn't moved and the front door opens. Harry walks in, eyes darting over Louis on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. "Lou," he says, and comes over, sitting on the opposite end. Louis pulls himself up, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his forehead in them.
"That wasn't-" Louis starts and stops, breathing harshly. "What I said the other day, that wasn't anything I wanted. Want. It's not what I want."
Harry sighs. "I know."
Louis looks up, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, you know. You haven't spoken to me in almost a week."
Harry tilts his head back to rest against the couch, closing his eyes. "Louis, it's like. I know you love me. I don't, like, doubt that. But I also know how I feel, you know? And that scares me, I guess. It scares me because you've never once brought up what we're gonna do next year. And I can't handle feeling like this if it's not as important to you."
Louis stares at him, hard. "What are you saying, Harry?"
"I just." Harry shrugs. "I love you and I love you in the long-term kind of way, I guess is what I'm saying. And if that's not what you want, then we need to figure that out right now."
Louis opens his mouth, and closes it. Opens it again. "Harry," he says.
Harry opens his eyes and turns his head, still leaning his neck back against the couch. He looks so tired. Louis wants to crawl over and fit himself alongside him, wants to wrap him up in his arms, wants to kiss away the tightness behind his eyes.
But Louis stays where he is. "Is that how I come off to you? Like I don't care?"
Harry rubs his eyes. "No, Lou. No. But all I know for certain is how I feel, you know? That's all I have."
Louis nods slowly, and reaches out with his toes to nudge Harry's thigh. "Hey. Look at me."
Harry peers over at him blearily, eyes heavy-lidded and exhausted.
Louis takes a deep breath. "I'm not good at this sort of thing," he starts. And then he reconsiders. "Well, I'm not good at talking about this sort of thing, I mean. I'm good at feeling it, because, like, Harry, I've felt it for you for years. I've got practice."
Harry blinks once, twice. "Wait. What? What is it, specifically."
"Oh." Louis furrows his brow. "Um. I didn't-? I mean. Forever, you know? Like. In that I really don't ever want to, like, not be with you? I guess? If that's okay with you?"
Harry huffs out a sigh that borders on a laugh. His lips curve upwards slightly. "I think I'll survive that revelation, yeah."
Louis looks at him, considering the three feet still between them. Harry looks back, eyes soft and warm, finally. "C'mere," Harry rasps.
Louis crawls over to him, cupping his hands on his jaw and presses a small kiss to the corner of his lips, before moving up his face, trailing kisses across his cheek, the bridge of his nose, between his eyes. "I love you," he whispers.
Harry wraps his arms around him, pulling Louis sideways into his lap, fitting one hand around his hip and the other tightly on his thigh. "I love you, too," he says, and presses his forehead into Louis' shoulder. "And I'm sorry I never brought it up either. It's not all on you. It's never been all on you. I guess I was just scared to hear something that would hurt?"
Louis huffs out a small laugh and curls his fingers around the back of Harry's neck. "I... yeah. Me too. Exactly, me too."
Lifting his head up, Harry smiles into Louis's eyes. "We're dumb," he says.
Louis nods. "The dumbest."
"So," Harry says, tightening his hands on Louis, pulling him closer, and sliding his fingers under his shirt, up to trace over his ribs. Louis squirms into Harry's chest, ticklish. "Forever, then?"
Louis smiles into Harry's neck, breathing him in. "Okay."
*
"Lou," whispers the waterbuffalo.
And again, with a little nudge. "Lou."
Louis blinks his eyes open, smiling up at Harry. "Hey, you," he rasps.
Harry's eyes crinkle and he leans down to kiss Louis deeply, tangling their tongues, curling them together.
"Whoa," Louis says, pulling back. "You brushed your teeth. Not fair."
Harry huffs a laugh. "I don't care. Shut up."
Louis wrinkles his nose. "But-" he starts, and is cut off by Harry's lips on his again, tugging his lower lip in between his teeth. Louis closes his eyes and melts into it, bringing his hands up to grasp Harry's hair, guiding his head against his lips.
Harry slides his hand up Louis' chest, rolling over to fit himself between Louis' legs, the thin cotton of their pants the only barrier between them. He rolls his hips slightly and Louis sighs against his lips.
"Yeah?" Harry murmurs, glancing down between them.
Louis rolls his eyes, bringing a leg up to fit behind Harry's knees, pulling him in closer. His hand slides down Harry's ribs and grabs at his arse, hitching his own hips up against Harry's. "Do you need to ask?"
Harry smiles a little, dipping back down to kiss Louis softly. "I missed you so much, Lou."
Louis squeezes his eyes shut. "What was that surprise you had for me?"
Smirking, Harry brings his hands down from where they were cupping at Louis' jaw to paw at their underwear. Louis sighs, frustrated, and lifts his hips to shove them down, wriggling his legs out from under Harry to kick them to the side. Harry laughs a little, pushing his down as well, hooking them around his foot and flinging them across the room.
Louis snorts, but is immediately cut off by the press of Harry's cock against his, rutting up, turning it into a groan.
"Harry," he says.
"Yeah," is all Harry says back, before sliding down Louis' body, leaving a path of kisses down the dip of his sternum and into the dip of his hips, before sucking a mark on his inner thigh.
Louis groans, grabbing a handful of Harry's curls. "Haz."
Harry smiles against his skin wickedly, nipping gently at the thin skin next to his cock where his thighs begin. He raises his eyes up to meet Louis', dark and blown out, and Louis drops his head back against the pillow, breathing out heavily.
"You're so beautiful," Harry mutters, and then he takes Louis' cock in his hand, circling lightly at the base. He presses a kiss to the tip, where a thin shine of precome is already present, and then he licks his lips and takes Louis all the way down. He pulls off briefly, jacking his hand, spreading the wetness from his mouth, before ducking back down, taking him halfway and hollowing his lips as he sucks.
Louis arches his back, head thrown back against the pillows, eyes tightened closed. His hips twitch upwards toward Harry's mouth and Harry slaps his free hand down on the sharp wing of bone, holding him still. He pulls off, breathing harshly. "Lube, Lou," he says hoarsely.
Louis shudders a sigh and Harry quickly tightens his hand at the base of Louis' cock, holding him at bay. Eyelashes fluttering, Louis takes a deep breath and gropes blindly into the nightstand until his fingers brush up against the tube and he grabs it, pressing it into Harry's hand.
Harry kisses Louis' thigh in thanks, and drizzles some on his fingers, taking Louis' cock back down, deep in his throat, distracting him from the fingers tracing wetly around his hole.
Louis groans weakly, throwing an arm over his eyes, stomach clenched in an attempt to keep his hips from bucking. "Harry," he moans. "Please."
Harry smiles around Louis' cock, and slowly slides his middle finger inside. Louis lets out a sharp breath, and Harry starts fucking it in steadily, building up a rhythm before adding a second, curling in on the upstroke. He drags his mouth up and off Louis, sitting up on his knees, spreading Louis' legs further apart with his other hand.
"You almost ready for me?" he asks quietly, studying Louis' flushed skin, blood rising to the surface of his cheeks, chest, stomach, and thighs. Harry's cock is so hard that it must hurt, anger-red and flat against his stomach. Louis nods desperately. "C'mon," he chokes out.
Harry ignores him for a few moments, keeping up the steady pace with his fingers and squeezing desperately at Louis' thigh, trying to stay in control. "Okay," he says. "Yeah," and he slowly takes his fingers out of Louis, squeezing more lube into his hand, slicking up his cock. He leans down, nudging at Louis' jaw with his face, tilting his head up and kissing along the soft skin of his neck, up past his ear and to his cheek before bringing their lips together, sucking at Louis' mouth as he positions himself against Louis' hole.
Louis gasps as he pushes in, clutching at Harry's back, nails digging in. He shoves his hips out to meet Harry's, and Harry groans as he struggles not to fuck in too soon. Louis isn't having that, though, and he shifts his back, bringing his heels up to rest against the small of Harry's back, pushing him closer.
"I can take it, Haz," Louis grits out, squirming underneath him.
Harry lets out a shaky breath and says, "Yeah, babe, I know," and starts thrusting in earnest, sliding Louis up the mattress until he has to reach up and grasp at the headboard to give himself leverage. Each rock of Harry's hips causes a short uh to escape his lungs and Harry licks every noise out of his mouth.
It's been a long time for both of them, and Louis feels himself pushed closer to the edge as each second goes by. He laces his fingers at the base of Harry's neck and stares up into his eyes for as long as he can until Harry brings his own hand down to wrap back around Louis' cock, twisting slightly on the upstroke and Louis has to squeeze his eyes shut as his head drops back and his mouth parts, letting out a small whimper as he comes across his stomach.
Harry groans and ducks down, bites at Louis' stretched neck, clamping down on the curve of muscle between his neck and shoulders, jerking his hips sharply, once, twice, before pressing in as deeply as he can and letting go.
After a few moments of breathing together, Harry rolls off to the side, bringing Louis to turn into him. "Hey," he says breathlessly, eyes hooded, dark, hazy.
Louis smiles tiredly. "Hey, love."
"That wasn't my surprise," Harry says, blinking slightly, as if just remembering. "Was gonna be more exciting."
"I dunno, Haz," Louis says. "That was pretty special."
Harry brushes his hand over Louis's forehead, pushing his fringe away from his eyes. "Not gonna let this happen to us again," he says.
Louis closes his eyes and curls his arm around Harry's hip, tucking his head under Harry's chin. "We're gonna be so good."
"Forever, yeah?" Harry says into a mouthful of Louis' hair.
Louis chuckles sleepily. "You're going to get so sick of me."
"I doubt that." Harry wraps his arms around Louis' back, and Louis smiles into his chest, relaxing into sleep.
*
Next Monday, Louis pulls the microphone towards his face, smiling to himself. "Hey, beautiful people," he says. "I've got something a little different from my usual brilliance to start us off tonight. Here's some huge throwback to the early 1970s with Paul McCartney's 'Maybe I'm Amazed.'"
Harry glances up from where he's curled up in the chair next to Louis, working on applications to research labs in London. He grins so bright that Louis blushes, glancing down at his laptop.
"You're ridiculous," Harry says through his smile.
Louis laughs, a soft, fond sound bubbling up from his chest. He kicks out at Harry's knee. "Just love you."
Harry shakes his head, biting his lip. "The mic better be off for what I'm about to do to you."
Louis makes sure the little red light is off before slipping out of his chair and kneeling in front of Harry. "No, love, I think it's my turn. Think you can come before the song's over?"
Harry curls his fingers in Louis' hair. "I do like a challenge."
pairing: harry styles/louis tomlinson
disclaimer: hilariously untrue.
word count: ~8,500
summary: they can never seem to communicate when it matters. but it's all love, anyway. SEQUEL TO blackjacks running down my back.
notes: um, so from what i've gathered, 'blackjacks' was kind of a hit with y'all, so i really hope this isn't a disappointment! infinite thanks to my one true, influira for everything, and of course miss_mady for her encouragement, and everyone on tumblr for their massive love. you're all absolutely fantastic and i appreciate every single thing you say to me. also i have a ton of comments to catch up on and leave on fic and i'm so behind, i'm really really sorry!
here's the mix for this one. it's not as good as the last one, but it's important, i guess.
"Lou."
Louis groans slightly, wondering why a polar bear is talking to him. Why this polar bear knows his name.
"Lou!"
Seriously, though. Louis didn't even know polar bears could speak.
"Louis, hey, love, wake up," and oh. Louis blinks his eyes open, grumbling nonsense under his breath.
Harry's standing next to the bed, stroking Louis' fringe off his forehead. "Hey, babe, I've gotta go. I'll see you tonight after the shows?"
Louis blinks some more, still hazy from arctic dreams and too-early hours. "Wha'?"
Harry bites his lip before leaning over and pressing quick kisses to Louis' cheek, temple, nose, forehead. "Have to meet up with my bio group before class, then I'm busy all day," he says.
"Oh," Louis says. "We haven't, like, hung out in a long time, Haz."
"I know." Harry sighs, grabbing Louis' hand from next to the pillow, twining their fingers together briefly. "I'm sorry. It's just... you know. My classes are getting crazy."
"Yeah," Louis says and Harry kind of twists his mouth sadly. Louis brings their hands up to his mouth, kissing Harry's knuckles. "This weekend?" he asks.
Harry opens his mouth, and his expression causes Louis' stomach to drop.
"Never mind," Louis says, cutting him off. He forces a smile. "We'll figure it out. Study hard. Do me proud, and all that."
Harry twitches his lips into an almost-smile back and squeezes Louis' hand, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. "I'll see you later. Love you."
"Love you," Louis says back and curls up under the covers again, wrapping his arms around himself.
*
"Hello, party people!" Louis chirps into the microphone. "I hope you're having a lovely evening already, because it's about to get pretty wicked. Here's Katy Perry with 'Teenage Dream' and I don't want to hear any complaints about how it's like sooo 2010, because I love this song and you know you do too."
He presses play and slips off the headphones, just as one of the producers walks in the booth.
"Lou!" Greg says. "Hey!"
Louis tilts his head back, getting an upside-down view of Greg. "I didn't swear! I am a hundred percent positive I didn't swear!"
Greg laughs. "No, I know, I'm literally just saying hi."
"Oh," Louis says, and he takes his feet off the counter and swivels his chair around to face him. "Well. Hi!"
"Can I sit?" Greg asks, motioning to the empty chair next to Louis.
Louis rolls his eyes. "No," he says. "Get away from me."
"So what are you playing next?" Greg says as he sits down, sliding the chair closer to see Louis' playlist.
Louis growls and tilts his screen away. "Get away. You're awful."
"Wait," Greg says. "Did I really just see 'My Boo'? Are you serious?"
Louis sniffs. "I don't know about y'all but I know about us."
"And-uh-it's the only way we know how to rock," Greg finishes. "Let me guess. You're dedicating that to darling Harold?"
"Shut up," Louis says, and leans back in, switching on the mic. "Alright, and I'm thinking tonight is going to be a throwback night, because here's Usher featuring Alicia Keys with 'My Boo.' Relive being thirteen again, because having a crush when you're thirteen is quite honestly the best feeling."
He presses play and sticks his tongue out at Greg. "I'm a hit," he says.
Greg rolls his eyes. "Believe me, darling, I know. So, what's your Harry dedication tonight, then, if not fucking 'My Boo'?"
"Ugh," Louis says, pulling a face. "I'm not a complete sap, you know."
"Louis," Greg says. "Louis."
"Shut up!"
"Let me see your playlist and see if I can guess, okay?" Greg reaches out to take his laptop.
Louis rolls his eyes, but hands it over. "You're not going to get it."
Greg snorts. "Try me." He starts scanning over the list of songs quickly, making considering sounds. "These are all love songs. You are actually disgusting."
"They're not all for Harry!" Louis protests. "Just, like..."
"Most of them?" Greg finishes, arching an eyebrow. "I may puke."
"Shut up!" Louis says again. "Guess. I'm interested now."
"Okay," Greg says. "Okay, using my intense detective powers, I'm going to guess 'Crazier' by Taylor Swift, because you usually choose Swifty for him. Because you're a little arsehole."
Louis smiles and the Usher starts fading out, so he switches the mic back on and says, "This next one is dedicated to our own Harry Styles, who's up next. It's called 'Crazier' and it's by Harry's favourite, Taylor Swift."
As soon as he hits play, his phone buzzes on the counter and Greg makes to grab it but Louis gets there first, sending Greg a warning look.
i hate you xxxxxxx
Louis smiles to himself, typing back, love you miss you ): xx
"That the lover boy?" Greg asks, tilting dangerously in his chair, trying to peer at the screen.
"Seriously, James, you need a sense of privacy," Louis says, sliding his phone in his pocket.
"Oh, you know I'm just jealous," Greg says, a teasing lilt in his voice, and Louis rolls his eyes.
"Don't you have actual work to do?" Louis asks, kicking out at him.
Greg shrugs. "I mean, my main job these days is making sure you don't swear on air, so here I am, doing that."
Louis wrinkles his nose. "Does this mean I'm going to have to put up with you in here every Monday?"
Smiling winningly, Greg says, "Don't pretend like that doesn't send shivers down your spine."
Louis huffs a laugh, shaking his head. He pulls up his email and leans back into the mic.
"Alright, guys, I've gotten quite a few emails this week, but I've only got time for one tonight, so I'm really sorry! I'll try to get back to everyone privately. Anyway, this is from 'A Lot Of Nothing Ever,' which, nice acronym, and she says: dear louis, i'm twenty years old and i've never been on a date or kissed or anything and i'm wondering if there's something wrong with me. i just have no interest in doing that with anyone and i don't even really like being touched that much. do you think there's something wrong with me?"
Louis sits back a little, straightens up in his chair, and clears his throat. "Okay, ALONE, this is a really interesting email, and thank you for trusting me, and us, enough to send it, because I know that can't have been easy. But first off, no. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, and before I say anything else, I need you to know that. Everyone is different, and everyone's sexuality is different. I'd recommend doing a bit of research on asexuality and aromanticism and similar labels, because maybe if you find something you identify with, you'll feel a little bit less alone. But labels are ultimately just that: labels, and they're just words. The most important thing is to feel comfortable and accepting of yourself, and to realise that you are not weird or broken or wrong at all, no matter what society might make you think. Good luck, and feel free to write again."
Greg's kind of staring at him and Louis raises an eyebrow, before continuing, "And now, we're gonna hear some Rita Ora. Here's 'Shine Ya Light.'"
He turns back to Greg. "What?"
Greg shrugs. "You're really good at that."
"Well," Louis says, rolling his eyes. "Thanks for noticing, I guess."
"I've never seen the master in action," Greg says. "It adds a certain something."
Louis feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he pulls it out.
try to stay awake after my show ;) i have a surprise
Louis purses his lips in an attempt not to smile, but he hears footsteps down the hall anyway and fixes his eyes on the doorway.
Harry appears through it within seconds. His eyes light up as soon as he sees Louis.
"Hey, you," he breathes, and flicks a glance over at Greg. He nods, saying, "Oh, hey, Greg."
Greg nods back, smiling politely. "Alright, Harry?"
"Yeah, mate, thanks. How are you doing?" Harry asks, standing halfway between the door and Louis, and Louis doesn't appreciate this.
"So, Greg," Louis says loudly, cutting him off preemptively. "Weren't you just saying you had really important work to do elsewhere?"
Greg's raises his eyebrows until they crawl up towards his hairline. "Was I? Must have slipped my mind."
"Nope," Louis says. "I'm almost certain there was something that was quite urgent that must be taken care of."
"Ah," Greg says, tapping his nose and pointing at Louis. "Yes, the top-secret, ultra-confidential, case-sensitive uni radio business. You're right. Thank god you reminded me."
Louis smiles beatifically. "S'what I'm here for."
Greg gets up and heads for the door, giving Harry a quick slap on the back as he passes by. He pauses just before turning into the hallway and looks back at Louis. "Seriously, though, Lou. Good show."
Louis waves him off. "Thanks, mate. See you later."
Harry's watching Louis when he turns back to the controls. "One more song," Louis tells him. Harry nods, smiling softly.
"Alright, guys, I'm about to hand this over to Harry," Louis says into the mic, "so I'm gonna leave you with some Adele. This is her cover of 'Make You Feel My Love.' See you next week. You're all beautiful."
He flips off the mic and slides out of his chair, wriggling into Harry's lap and presses a series of soft kisses to his mouth. "Hey," Louis whispers, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair.
Harry's hands come up to stroke down Louis' back, squeezing lightly at his hips, pulling him tight. "Hey, you," Harry whispers back. "How was your day?"
Louis shrugs. "Missed you."
"Yeah," Harry says, and looks down. "I know. Me too."
"Hey," Louis says. "Hey, Haz, look at me. It's okay, yeah? You're busy. I get it."
Harry shakes his hair out of his eyes. "I know. I just. It sucks, you know? I just want to be around you all the time."
Louis smiles into Harry's eyes. "We should see if Hallmark's hiring."
"Shut up," Harry laughs. "I'm trying to be, like, serious."
"I know, love," Louis says, chuckling a little. He kisses the tip of Harry's nose. "Fuck school, right?"
Harry sighs. "Yeah. Everything's just getting dumped on me right now, you know? Like it's my last term and suddenly I have more work than ever. Combined."
Louis kisses the top of his head, now. "If there's anything I can help you with, you know. Just tell me."
Harry shakes his head a little, as if to clear it. He smiles and digs his fingers into Louis' side, right where he's most ticklish. Louis squeaks, squirms. "I love you, you know," Harry says.
Louis laughs. "I know, you freak. Play your stupid, unlistenable music and I'll see you at home." He slides off Harry's lap and gathers his gear, throwing it into his bag. As he heads toward the door, he turns back and arches a cheeky eyebrow in Harry's direction. "Is this surprise something I should, ah, prepare for?"
Harry smirks down at his laptop, before turning to wink at Louis. "If you felt like, I suppose. Or you could leave that to me."
Louis smiles. "See you in a bit, love."
Harry waves. "Listen."
"Always."
*
As soon as Louis flips on the radio when he gets back to their flat, Harry's rich voice floats over him as he says, "This next on is for Louis. It's called 'Atlas Hands' by Benjamin Francis Leftwich. Love you."
Louis smiles to himself, rubbing his hands over his face. He drags out his copy of Anna Karenina and his notebook, settling at the dining room table with a cup of tea.
They only have three months of university left, and on one hand Louis is unbearably excited. He's thrilled for the opportunity to become a real person, to make his own decisions and fuck things up on his own, and experience that whole scary in-between space of not having a career and not being in school. He's been hearing from Radio 1 producers about maybe taking an internship there and his stomach twists because ever since he sat in the radio studio his first year of school, he's wanted to do this.
And he thinks London would be a spectacular place to live on his own for the first time. The whole world is in London, or some stupid cliche that Liam would probably burst out with, completely unironically.
There's just - it's just, like. He and Harry haven't talked about anything. They talk about everything else that pops into their heads - every stupid half-thought about varieties of cheese or what Gordon Ramsay would look like in a thong, but they haven't talked about what they're going to do in three months.
The thing is, if there's one thing Louis is not insecure about, it's his relationship with Harry. They've been together for two months, officially, but Louis likes to discount their years of being stupid, so he really just calls it forever.
Forever has a nice ring to it, he thinks.
But he's worried that Harry's not thinking about forever. He's worried Harry's got his own future all sorted. He's worried, mostly, that Harry's not considering them in his forever.
"I've got a plan; I've got an atlas in my hands," sings the radio.
Louis sighs, presses his palms into his eyes. He opens his book and takes out his highlighter. Homework now, he thinks.
*
"Lou," says the rabbit, this time. "Lou."
Louis blinks, lifts his head up. A page sticks to his cheek. Harry's smiling down at him again. "Tolstoy not getting you off tonight?" he asks.
Louis groans. "Time's it?"
"A little after midnight. Let's just go to bed, love," Harry says, tugging on his elbow gently.
"No," Louis protests feebly. "You had a surprise."
Harry laughs. "It can wait, babe."
"No," Louis says again, pouting. "I want a shag."
"Lou," Harry says, leveling him with a look. "We're both tired. Let's just..."
"Harry," Louis whines. "Shag me. Shag me shag me shag me."
Harry sighs. "We'll see, yeah?"
Louis groans, but heaves himself up from the table, leaving everything spread out. He'll deal with it tomorrow. He follows Harry into his bedroom, which has morphed into their bedroom and that thought never fails to warm him up.
Harry starts stripping down and Louis sits on the bed, watching. Harry throws him a pointed look. "Get changed."
Louis sighs, pulling off his shirt and tugging down his trousers, grabbing a teeshirt from the floor, lifting it over his head. As it settles, Harry's staring at him again, this time with a decidedly different look in his eyes.
Louis raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Harry grins wickedly. "Love you in my clothes," he says simply.
Louis glances down at himself, noting how the shirt hangs down, almost grazing his thighs, pulled loose over his collarbones. "Ah," he says, smiling.
Harry shakes his head ruefully, saying, "Come here," holding out his hand.
Louis kneels on up on the bed, tugging Harry down to kneel on the other side, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I miss you," he whispers against Harry's lips.
Harry sighs. "I miss you all the time," he says back, sliding his hands down Louis' ribs to settle one on his arse, the other on the back of Louis' thigh, hitching him closer so their legs are entwined, thighs laced together so Louis is straddling one of Harry's.
Pressing their lips together, Harry gently turns them, holding onto Louis tightly, dipping him down so they're lying flat on the bed, Harry leaning over Louis, hips pressed together.
Louis lets out a soft noise, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, tangling their tongues together. Harry groans a little, shifting himself so they're better lined up, letting their half-hard cocks graze together through the thin cotton of their pants. Louis' eyelashes flutter, and he slides his legs out from underneath Harry's, brings them up to wrap around his waist, hitching his hips up pointedly.
"Lou," Harry sighs, breaking away. "You're so tired."
"I'm not!" Louis argues. "I rested, remember? Tolstoy read me a bedtime story."
"Lou," Harry says, and Louis lets out a sharp noise.
"Harry, I barely see you. You're always out studying or at class or who the fuck knows what and I never see you and right now you're here and I miss you and I want you, okay? So can you fuck me or get me off or something?" Louis snaps.
Harry pulls back a little, blinking. "Lou," he starts.
Louis sighs. "Sorry. Just. Sorry. I don't mean to, like, blame you. Sorry." He lets his legs fall back to the bed and glances away.
Harry brings his hand up to brush Louis' fringe from his eyes, running his fingers delicately along his eyebrows, his cheekbones, down to rub over his bottom lip. "I hate this, too, you know?" he says.
"Yeah," Louis says quietly. "Yeah. It just sucks being the one waiting around."
Sighing heavily, Harry rolls off Louis to slump next to him, sharing the pillow. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth," he says.
Louis shakes his head. "No, I'm not, like, looking for an apology. You have to do what you have to do. I get it. I'm just being selfish. I'm sorry."
Harry leans in again, kissing a trail up Louis' neck. His hand slides under the t-shirt Louis is wearing, and he rubs lightly at Louis' ribs, hand spanning across his side, thumb stroking a circle into the soft skin of his stomach. He trails his fingers down lightly to play at the waistband of Louis' pants. "We could...?" Harry offers.
Louis smiles sadly at him, resigned. "No, you're right. I'm tired. We'll just... you're right."
"Lou," Harry says softly.
Louis shrugs a little, pecking a kiss to Harry's lips, and another to his cheek. He turns over, back to Harry, but keeps ahold of Harry's hand, bringing it around him and holding it close to his chest, pressing the palm against his heart.
Harry curves his body around Louis', pulling them together so they're touching from ankles to where Harry's mouth is pressed against Louis' neck.
"I love you," Harry whispers.
Louis tightens his grip on Harry's hand. "I know," he says.
*
Harry's gone when Louis wakes up the next morning. There's a note tucked inside the Tolstoy on the kitchen table.
tried to wake you to say goodbye but you needed the sleep i guess. love you. i'll see you tonight. maybe dinner in? if you want. i love you xxxx
Louis sighs and crumples the note in his fist, before immediately feeling guilty and flattening it out again, using it to hold his place in the book.
He texts Zayn, brekkie?
After a shower and getting dressed, there's a knock at the door. He pulls it open.
"Alright?" Zayn grumbles.
Louis shrugs. "What's up with you?" he asks, studying Zayn, noting his flat hair and dark circles under his eyes, with an outfit Louis is sure hasn't been washed in awhile.
Zayn grunts, shrugging back. "Up all night."
Louis snorts, waggling his eyebrows. "I see."
Rolling his eyes, Zayn shakes his head. "Paper."
"Oh, ew."
"Yeah. Dining hall?" Zayn offers.
Louis nods, grabbing his jacket. He shoves his hands in his pockets and they walk in silence across campus.
Finally, Zayn says, "Gonna tell me what's wrong, then?"
Louis pulls a face. "It's nothing."
Zayn laughs humourlessly. "It always is. Go on, then."
"It's just-" Louis stops, sighs. "It's stupid, like, I shouldn't complain, really."
"Lou," Zayn says.
Louis huffs out a breath. "Okay, well, it's like, Harry's classes have gotten really intense lately, and he's just never around. And if he is, he's always tired and just. Out of it. I don't know. It's not his fault and I shouldn't complain."
Zayn hums thoughtfully as they reach the dining hall. He pulls the door open and holds it for Louis. They wander through the buffet lines, grabbing a bagel each and some orange juice, with a cup of coffee.
"I mean," Zayn says, picking up the thread as they sit down, "have you talked to him?"
Louis shrugs. "I mean, a little? But, like, what can I say? Tell him to drop out of class and focus all of his attention on me? It's not his fault," he says again. "And it's not like it's forever."
Zayn raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, speaking of, have you guys talked about what happens next?"
Louis studies the poppy seeds on his bagel. "Have you and Liam?" he asks, avoiding the question.
"Uh," Zayn says, "yeah, Louis. I think we talked about that first when we started dating. Two years ago."
Louis glances up at Zayn. "Seriously?"
"You guys haven't talked about that?" Zayn says, incredulous. "Louis."
Louis bites his lip and looks across the room at nothing, eyes unfocused. "I just. I just have no idea what he wants," he says quietly.
"Lou," Zayn sighs. "He wants to be with you. He's wanted to be with you since you fucking met, alright? You both just have to figure out what that means, you know?"
"But what if he gets a job in Liverpool, or something? And I get a job in London? How's that going to work?" Louis asks, a hysterical note in his voice.
"Well," Zayn says slowly. "That's something you have to talk about. With him. Like a proper grown up in a proper relationship, Lou."
"But I don't want to scare him off!"
Zayn widens his eyes. "You think telling him that you want to make your relationship work in real life is going to scare him off?" he asks. "Have you ever met Harry? Has he changed drastically since I last saw him?"
Louis picks up on the unspoken are you stupid? implied in Zayn's tone. He picks at his bagel again. "I know, shut up," he says. "I just. You know."
Zayn shakes his head. "You gotta get past your weird insecurities about this, Lou. He wants to be with you and you want to be with him and everything beyond that is details."
"I hate talking to you," Louis says by way of reply.
Zayn snorts. "You hate being called out, more like."
Louis shakes his head, but lets it go at that.
*
That afternoon, after his Russian Literature class, Louis is trudging back across campus, thinking idly about getting coffee before going back to the flat to get started on his paper.
"Louis Tomlinson!" comes a voice booming behind him.
He turns, and once again, "Are you stalking me, Greg James?" he asks, smiling.
Greg grins sunnily. "I just can't reign in my excitement, I guess."
Louis shakes his head. "What're you up to?"
"Just got out of class," Greg replies. "Gonna get some coffee. You?"
"Oh," Louis says, blinking. "Me too."
"Great!" Greg holds out his elbow, as if he's in the 1720s, and Louis rolls his eyes, ignoring it.
Greg carries on. "I have so much to do tonight, god, it's like the professors don't care that it's spring and all we care about is getting laid and the sun!"
Louis snorts. "I feel you. I've got a paper due in two days and I keep falling asleep on it."
Greg hums sympathetically. "I know, right? I have to work on massive proofs and also keep little shits like you from fucking up this grand university's reputation on the airwaves."
"Life's rough," Louis agrees.
"So where's lover boy?" Greg asks.
Louis shrugs and doesn't say anything, squinting into the hazy brightness of English sunlight.
"Uh oh," Greg says. "Trouble in paradise? You crazy kids will work it out."
Louis clenches his jaw. "Everything's fine, mate, thanks."
Greg's expression softens. "Do you wanna talk, or something?"
Louis shrugs again, and plops down into a booth at the far corner of the cafe. He bats his eyelashes up at Greg. "I'd love a latte," he says.
"Oi, I see," Greg says, laughing. "Fine, but when I get back, we'll chat, yeah?" He points at Louis, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
"Whatever," Louis says, smirking. "Skim milk, please."
Greg rolls his eyes. "Okay, princess."
Five minutes later, Greg sits down across from Louis and slides a mug toward him. "Now, spill. All the dirty details. I'm invested, you know."
"Are you?" Louis asks, arching an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes," Greg says. "Can't bear to see the cutest couple ever to walk the earth fall apart."
"Gross," Louis says.
"Please, mate, you two dedicate songs to each other every show. It's puke-worthy, is what it is."
"Don't hate me because you ain't me," Louis sings, smirking.
"Oh, shut up," Greg says. "Is everything okay, though?
Louis' lip twitches as he takes a sip of his coffee, sobering slightly. "I mean, yeah, everything's fine. We're just busy and, like, I miss him, I guess."
Greg nods. "Yeah, the end of the year is rough like that. Have you planned out what you're gonna do next year?"
Louis scrubs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He says, sharply, "Jesus, why do we have to have everything planned out already? Why does it matter? Why can't it just be like, hey, let's move to Morocco, and have done with it? It's not a fucking big deal."
"Whoa," Greg says, eyes widening. "Uh, it is kind of a big deal to most people, is all. I just figured you two would be that kind of couple. Sorry."
Louis actually wants to scream, maybe, because being lectured on this for the second time in a day is pretty specifically something he's not interested in, and it's stupid that all these other fucking people think they know his relationship better than he does, or Harry better than he does, when in actuality, Harry won't even talk to him about it, so what the fuck could they know?
"Whatever," Louis says. "It's whatever. Who knows what will happen next year? Maybe we won't even be together. This whole conversation is stupid. I have homework."
But Greg's not looking at him anymore, because Greg's looking up and to the right of Louis' shoulder, face carefully blank and eyes very, very startled.
Louis closes his eyes.
"Oh," Harry says from behind him. "Okay."
"Harry," Louis says quietly.
Greg stands. "I'm gonna - yep, okay," he says, and disappears quickly back out into the commons.
Louis turns to face Harry, who's frozen behind him. "Harry," he says again.
Harry blinks a few times, eyes glassy and huge. "I didn't know you felt that way," he says, and fuck, his voice breaks on that last word.
Louis feels like he might actually have a knife through his stomach. "I don't. Harry. You know I don't."
"I have to go meet with my study group," Harry says, staring down at the ground. "Maybe I'll see you later, I guess."
"Harry," Louis whispers, "please." He stands up and reaches out to catch Harry's arm, pulling him closer. "Please. I didn't mean that. I don't feel that way."
Harry squeezes his eyes shut. "I really have to go, Louis," he says, twisting out of Louis' arms.
Louis laughs hollowly, brittle. "Yeah. You always do."
"Right," Harry mumbles, stumbling back. "Right."
Louis watches him leave. "Fuck," he whispers to himself. "Fuck."
*
Harry doesn't come back to the flat that night, and Louis knows he's with Niall, because he's not stupid, but there's still the what if what if what if running through his head incessantly.
Zayn texts him around midnight.
you're a motherfucking idiot.
Louis curls around himself on Harry's empty bed. i know.
this is exactly what i said you should not do, you actual shit for brains cunt, Zayn sends back almost immediately.
Louis throws his phone across the room and it lands on a pile of Harry's dirty clothes.
He's not going to cry, is the thing. He's not.
*
The next few days are tense. Harry is barely around, but that's become status quo. It hurts more now, though. It hurts more now, because Harry's not crawling into bed late at night for cuddles and kisses and soft whispers as they drift off to sleep.
It hurts more, because Louis hears the front door close quietly after midnight every night, and then he hears Harry's bedroom door close just as quietly a few minutes later. Louis pulls his comforter over his head and tries not to think about how long it's been since he's slept in his own bed, in his own room. He tries not to think about how long it's been since he's slept alone.
He goes to class and he wanders around campus aimlessly, listening to shitty, sad, love songs and staring at the sky and ignoring every single text or call from Liam or Zayn or Niall, and he curls up in his bed in his own room and he ignores the click of the door every night and he is totally, totally fine.
By the time Monday rolls around, Louis hasn't actually seen Harry in two days. There are only hints to his existence around the flat - a few more dishes in the washer, a jumper across the back of the couch that wasn't there the day before, the quiet sounds of another life, just out of reach.
Louis doesn't even know if they're broken up or not.
He doesn't cry.
He doesn't.
*
Greg's waiting in the studio when Louis gets there. Louis quirks his lips up into a facsimile of a smile, the best he can do.
"Lou," Greg says. "Hey, um. How are you?"
"Smashing, mate," Louis says flatly. "You probably should sit in this week. Watch my language and all that."
Greg hesitates, then nods. "I... I just. Fuck. I'm so sorry. I feel responsible?"
Louis shrugs. "Don't. My fault."
"If - if you want to talk, or anything..." Greg offers, trailing off.
Louis stares at him for a moment.
"Actually, the last time I tried that, I ended up losing the best thing in my life, so," Louis says with an edge to his voice. He sighs immediately. "Sorry. Sorry. No. It's not your fault at all. Just. Ignore me."
"It'll be okay," Greg says. "He loves you so much."
Louis clenches his jaw and tightens his lips. "Please stop," he says quietly.
Greg nods and reaches over, nudging the microphone in front of Louis. "Go get em, tiger."
Louis shakes himself, straightens up, and flips on the mic. "Hey, pretty ladies. And boys, I choose to believe. I hope you're all fantastic tonight, because you deserve it. I'm Louis Tomlinson with your favourite radio show on air, so let's get it going. To kick us off, here's some Ke$ha with 'The Harold Song.'"
He presses play and pushes the mic away, pulling out the headphones and letting the song fill the room, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed.
"Oh, Lou, no," Greg says. "Come on, mate, none of this."
"Greg," Louis says, forcibly polite through his teeth. "Please don't take this the wrong way but kindly fuck off."
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he grabs for it with embarrassing desperation. He glances at the screen. Niall. He sighs, but opens it.
he's listening x is all it says.
As the song fades out, Louis leans back in. "Alright, here's 'Viva Forever' by all our favourites, Spice Girls. Had such a crush on Geri, back in the day. As you do."
After a few minutes, Greg speaks up again. "Christ, Lou, you're going to make everyone suicidal. You better have some Girls Aloud coming up, or something."
"I do!" Louis says defensively.
Greg narrows his eyes. "What song?"
"A good one, fuck off."
"Louis."
Louis sighs. "'I'll Stand By You'?" he says tentatively.
"Give me your laptop," Greg orders.
"No!"
Greg looks at him for a moment, before his expression melts into something softer. "I just want to see, Lou, I won't change anything."
Louis rolls his eyes, slides over his laptop. Greg furrows his brow immediately.
"Louis," he says. "You're the only person in the world who could find a sad Mika song, I swear to god."
"It's not sad," Louis snaps, and grabs the mic. "Next up is Mika with 'Blue Eyes.' Hope you're all studying hard and all that. I'll get to some of your emails next."
As soon as he says it, his email pings and he wrestles the laptop away from Greg, aiming an elbow at his pancreas. "Jesus," Greg gasps.
Louis quickly opens his email, scanning over it. "Ugh," he says. "My mood has affected others."
Greg shoots him a flat look.
"Shut up," Louis says absently.
As the song fades out, Louis leans back in. "Alright, now, I had a different email prepared, but I just got this one and I think it fits better with the theme of the show tonight. So here we go. It's from Lost In A Mudpuddle, apparently, and they say: hey, louis. so i know this couple who recently sort of broke up but not really and they really need to talk it out, but i don't know how to get involved without appearing to take sides. they're both my best friends and one is hiding away and not seeing anyone and the other is throwing everything into school and ignoring the problem. what should i do? i love them too much to let this happen."
Louis straightens up and rolls his eyes at Greg, who's looking lost. "Well, LIAM," he says wryly, "I'd recommend staying out of it, because it's none of your bloody business, and they'd probably appreciate being left alone. Thanks anyway, mate." Louis takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes, tugs at his fringe a little, and then he leans back in and adds quietly, "Take care of him, please," and then, in a much louder voice, he says, "And now, here's Girls Aloud with 'I'll Stand By You'."
There's a shuffling in the doorway behind them, and Louis whips around. Harry's standing there, clutching his bag across his chest and staring at the ground. "I can, um, wait in the lobby," he mumbles, turning to leave.
Louis shoots Greg a get the fuck out look and says, "No. No, Harry, wait."
Harry pauses and Greg squeezes by him, giving him a small smile and giving Louis a stern look.
Louis swallows. "Hey."
Harry kicks at the ground a little with his shoe. "Hey." He doesn't look at Louis.
Glancing rather desperately at the time left on his song, he says, "Harry, I'm so sorry. We need to talk and I need to... I need to know that we can fix this."
Harry raises his eyes to Louis' then, and Louis bites his lip, because Harry's eyes are sad and sunken and the skin underneath them is bruised and his mouth is bitten red and turned down. He shrugs at Louis. "If we're not going to be together after we get out of here, what's the point?"
The song's coming to an end and Harry quickly pulls out his laptop, leaning into the mic. "Hey, everyone. Harry Styles here. Gonna start you off with some Imagine Dragons. Here's 'Bleeding Out.'"
"Harry," Louis says.
Harry turns back to Louis and rubs a hand over his face, through his hair. "Go home, Louis. We can talk when I get back."
So Louis nods - because what else can he do? - and trudges to the door. He pauses, leaning his head on the doorjam. "I love you," he says to the floor.
Harry's quiet for a long moment and Louis swallows, prepares to leave without an answer for the first time.
But then, "I love you, too," he says quietly. "Go home."
*
The first thing Louis does when he gets home is turn on the radio.
Jack's Mannequin is playing, and Louis falls back on the couch, pulling a throw pillow over his face. Harry would never play this, if not for him. Louis isn't even sure how they got here, really. He's not sure why he hasn't cornered Harry before now, caught him and held him till he let Louis explain, till he understood.
He's not sure why Harry hasn't cornered him and yelled at him, made him apologise, explain, something.
Harry's voice fills the flat, then. "That was Jack's Mannequin with 'Swim,' which, sorry. Guess you're getting two depressing shows back to back. Here's Stabilo with 'Kidding Ourselves.'"
Louis curls in on himself, then, and stares at the wall for the next hour, letting Tegan & Sara, To Have Heroes, and Rilo Kiley wash over him.
Harry comes back on, "Alright, before I let Dev take over, I have two songs left. This first one is The Swell Season with 'In These Arms,' and after that you'll hear Hope with 'Who Am I To Say.' Hope this gets the point across. See you all next week."
"Yeah, Harry," Louis mumbles into the dark room, "I fucking get it." He throws the pillow as hard as he can at the radio. It switches off.
Twenty minutes later, Louis hasn't moved and the front door opens. Harry walks in, eyes darting over Louis on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. "Lou," he says, and comes over, sitting on the opposite end. Louis pulls himself up, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his forehead in them.
"That wasn't-" Louis starts and stops, breathing harshly. "What I said the other day, that wasn't anything I wanted. Want. It's not what I want."
Harry sighs. "I know."
Louis looks up, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, you know. You haven't spoken to me in almost a week."
Harry tilts his head back to rest against the couch, closing his eyes. "Louis, it's like. I know you love me. I don't, like, doubt that. But I also know how I feel, you know? And that scares me, I guess. It scares me because you've never once brought up what we're gonna do next year. And I can't handle feeling like this if it's not as important to you."
Louis stares at him, hard. "What are you saying, Harry?"
"I just." Harry shrugs. "I love you and I love you in the long-term kind of way, I guess is what I'm saying. And if that's not what you want, then we need to figure that out right now."
Louis opens his mouth, and closes it. Opens it again. "Harry," he says.
Harry opens his eyes and turns his head, still leaning his neck back against the couch. He looks so tired. Louis wants to crawl over and fit himself alongside him, wants to wrap him up in his arms, wants to kiss away the tightness behind his eyes.
But Louis stays where he is. "Is that how I come off to you? Like I don't care?"
Harry rubs his eyes. "No, Lou. No. But all I know for certain is how I feel, you know? That's all I have."
Louis nods slowly, and reaches out with his toes to nudge Harry's thigh. "Hey. Look at me."
Harry peers over at him blearily, eyes heavy-lidded and exhausted.
Louis takes a deep breath. "I'm not good at this sort of thing," he starts. And then he reconsiders. "Well, I'm not good at talking about this sort of thing, I mean. I'm good at feeling it, because, like, Harry, I've felt it for you for years. I've got practice."
Harry blinks once, twice. "Wait. What? What is it, specifically."
"Oh." Louis furrows his brow. "Um. I didn't-? I mean. Forever, you know? Like. In that I really don't ever want to, like, not be with you? I guess? If that's okay with you?"
Harry huffs out a sigh that borders on a laugh. His lips curve upwards slightly. "I think I'll survive that revelation, yeah."
Louis looks at him, considering the three feet still between them. Harry looks back, eyes soft and warm, finally. "C'mere," Harry rasps.
Louis crawls over to him, cupping his hands on his jaw and presses a small kiss to the corner of his lips, before moving up his face, trailing kisses across his cheek, the bridge of his nose, between his eyes. "I love you," he whispers.
Harry wraps his arms around him, pulling Louis sideways into his lap, fitting one hand around his hip and the other tightly on his thigh. "I love you, too," he says, and presses his forehead into Louis' shoulder. "And I'm sorry I never brought it up either. It's not all on you. It's never been all on you. I guess I was just scared to hear something that would hurt?"
Louis huffs out a small laugh and curls his fingers around the back of Harry's neck. "I... yeah. Me too. Exactly, me too."
Lifting his head up, Harry smiles into Louis's eyes. "We're dumb," he says.
Louis nods. "The dumbest."
"So," Harry says, tightening his hands on Louis, pulling him closer, and sliding his fingers under his shirt, up to trace over his ribs. Louis squirms into Harry's chest, ticklish. "Forever, then?"
Louis smiles into Harry's neck, breathing him in. "Okay."
*
"Lou," whispers the waterbuffalo.
And again, with a little nudge. "Lou."
Louis blinks his eyes open, smiling up at Harry. "Hey, you," he rasps.
Harry's eyes crinkle and he leans down to kiss Louis deeply, tangling their tongues, curling them together.
"Whoa," Louis says, pulling back. "You brushed your teeth. Not fair."
Harry huffs a laugh. "I don't care. Shut up."
Louis wrinkles his nose. "But-" he starts, and is cut off by Harry's lips on his again, tugging his lower lip in between his teeth. Louis closes his eyes and melts into it, bringing his hands up to grasp Harry's hair, guiding his head against his lips.
Harry slides his hand up Louis' chest, rolling over to fit himself between Louis' legs, the thin cotton of their pants the only barrier between them. He rolls his hips slightly and Louis sighs against his lips.
"Yeah?" Harry murmurs, glancing down between them.
Louis rolls his eyes, bringing a leg up to fit behind Harry's knees, pulling him in closer. His hand slides down Harry's ribs and grabs at his arse, hitching his own hips up against Harry's. "Do you need to ask?"
Harry smiles a little, dipping back down to kiss Louis softly. "I missed you so much, Lou."
Louis squeezes his eyes shut. "What was that surprise you had for me?"
Smirking, Harry brings his hands down from where they were cupping at Louis' jaw to paw at their underwear. Louis sighs, frustrated, and lifts his hips to shove them down, wriggling his legs out from under Harry to kick them to the side. Harry laughs a little, pushing his down as well, hooking them around his foot and flinging them across the room.
Louis snorts, but is immediately cut off by the press of Harry's cock against his, rutting up, turning it into a groan.
"Harry," he says.
"Yeah," is all Harry says back, before sliding down Louis' body, leaving a path of kisses down the dip of his sternum and into the dip of his hips, before sucking a mark on his inner thigh.
Louis groans, grabbing a handful of Harry's curls. "Haz."
Harry smiles against his skin wickedly, nipping gently at the thin skin next to his cock where his thighs begin. He raises his eyes up to meet Louis', dark and blown out, and Louis drops his head back against the pillow, breathing out heavily.
"You're so beautiful," Harry mutters, and then he takes Louis' cock in his hand, circling lightly at the base. He presses a kiss to the tip, where a thin shine of precome is already present, and then he licks his lips and takes Louis all the way down. He pulls off briefly, jacking his hand, spreading the wetness from his mouth, before ducking back down, taking him halfway and hollowing his lips as he sucks.
Louis arches his back, head thrown back against the pillows, eyes tightened closed. His hips twitch upwards toward Harry's mouth and Harry slaps his free hand down on the sharp wing of bone, holding him still. He pulls off, breathing harshly. "Lube, Lou," he says hoarsely.
Louis shudders a sigh and Harry quickly tightens his hand at the base of Louis' cock, holding him at bay. Eyelashes fluttering, Louis takes a deep breath and gropes blindly into the nightstand until his fingers brush up against the tube and he grabs it, pressing it into Harry's hand.
Harry kisses Louis' thigh in thanks, and drizzles some on his fingers, taking Louis' cock back down, deep in his throat, distracting him from the fingers tracing wetly around his hole.
Louis groans weakly, throwing an arm over his eyes, stomach clenched in an attempt to keep his hips from bucking. "Harry," he moans. "Please."
Harry smiles around Louis' cock, and slowly slides his middle finger inside. Louis lets out a sharp breath, and Harry starts fucking it in steadily, building up a rhythm before adding a second, curling in on the upstroke. He drags his mouth up and off Louis, sitting up on his knees, spreading Louis' legs further apart with his other hand.
"You almost ready for me?" he asks quietly, studying Louis' flushed skin, blood rising to the surface of his cheeks, chest, stomach, and thighs. Harry's cock is so hard that it must hurt, anger-red and flat against his stomach. Louis nods desperately. "C'mon," he chokes out.
Harry ignores him for a few moments, keeping up the steady pace with his fingers and squeezing desperately at Louis' thigh, trying to stay in control. "Okay," he says. "Yeah," and he slowly takes his fingers out of Louis, squeezing more lube into his hand, slicking up his cock. He leans down, nudging at Louis' jaw with his face, tilting his head up and kissing along the soft skin of his neck, up past his ear and to his cheek before bringing their lips together, sucking at Louis' mouth as he positions himself against Louis' hole.
Louis gasps as he pushes in, clutching at Harry's back, nails digging in. He shoves his hips out to meet Harry's, and Harry groans as he struggles not to fuck in too soon. Louis isn't having that, though, and he shifts his back, bringing his heels up to rest against the small of Harry's back, pushing him closer.
"I can take it, Haz," Louis grits out, squirming underneath him.
Harry lets out a shaky breath and says, "Yeah, babe, I know," and starts thrusting in earnest, sliding Louis up the mattress until he has to reach up and grasp at the headboard to give himself leverage. Each rock of Harry's hips causes a short uh to escape his lungs and Harry licks every noise out of his mouth.
It's been a long time for both of them, and Louis feels himself pushed closer to the edge as each second goes by. He laces his fingers at the base of Harry's neck and stares up into his eyes for as long as he can until Harry brings his own hand down to wrap back around Louis' cock, twisting slightly on the upstroke and Louis has to squeeze his eyes shut as his head drops back and his mouth parts, letting out a small whimper as he comes across his stomach.
Harry groans and ducks down, bites at Louis' stretched neck, clamping down on the curve of muscle between his neck and shoulders, jerking his hips sharply, once, twice, before pressing in as deeply as he can and letting go.
After a few moments of breathing together, Harry rolls off to the side, bringing Louis to turn into him. "Hey," he says breathlessly, eyes hooded, dark, hazy.
Louis smiles tiredly. "Hey, love."
"That wasn't my surprise," Harry says, blinking slightly, as if just remembering. "Was gonna be more exciting."
"I dunno, Haz," Louis says. "That was pretty special."
Harry brushes his hand over Louis's forehead, pushing his fringe away from his eyes. "Not gonna let this happen to us again," he says.
Louis closes his eyes and curls his arm around Harry's hip, tucking his head under Harry's chin. "We're gonna be so good."
"Forever, yeah?" Harry says into a mouthful of Louis' hair.
Louis chuckles sleepily. "You're going to get so sick of me."
"I doubt that." Harry wraps his arms around Louis' back, and Louis smiles into his chest, relaxing into sleep.
*
Next Monday, Louis pulls the microphone towards his face, smiling to himself. "Hey, beautiful people," he says. "I've got something a little different from my usual brilliance to start us off tonight. Here's some huge throwback to the early 1970s with Paul McCartney's 'Maybe I'm Amazed.'"
Harry glances up from where he's curled up in the chair next to Louis, working on applications to research labs in London. He grins so bright that Louis blushes, glancing down at his laptop.
"You're ridiculous," Harry says through his smile.
Louis laughs, a soft, fond sound bubbling up from his chest. He kicks out at Harry's knee. "Just love you."
Harry shakes his head, biting his lip. "The mic better be off for what I'm about to do to you."
Louis makes sure the little red light is off before slipping out of his chair and kneeling in front of Harry. "No, love, I think it's my turn. Think you can come before the song's over?"
Harry curls his fingers in Louis' hair. "I do like a challenge."