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Moving in with four other people was supposed to be easy.
Rent was cheaper, groceries were split up, and he had a bigger house and four new friends.
He wasn’t supposed to be considering dorm rooming again.
“Wake up!” a voice screamed. A distinct northern accented, high pitched voice screamed.
Harry groaned and rolled away from the voice, pulling the blanket over his head. He felt the bed shift, a weight across his side, and then something soft was being whacked across his face.
“Wake up!” Louis said again. Yelled, more like. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
Another hit across his face. Harry was pretty sure it was a pillow. He was being assaulted with a pillow at way-too-early in the morning.
He opened his eyes. Nothing more than a squint, because he couldn’t give Louis the satisfaction of full blown attention.
“I am up,” he grumbled. “What do you want?”
A third smack. “You need to drive me to football.”
“Doesn’t a friend usually pick you up?”
“He can’t today,” Louis said. “He’s sick or something.”
“Well, in that case,” Harry said, “take the bus.” He closed his eyes again.
The next hit came harder than all the rest. Harry didn’t even know pillows could hurt.
“No,” was all Louis said.
Harry knew he had no reason not to. Louis knew it, too. There was a stop down the street from their house, and the routes would have already started by now.
“I’m not taking you.” He snuggled further under the blankets. It was cold, alright, and if Louis was about to leave for football practice that meant he didn’t need to be up for a few more hours.
There was a few seconds of silence before the bed shifted again. He heard the sound of retreating footsteps and smiled to himself. He was waiting for the day Louis finally gave up on pestering him. Maybe today would be that day.
It was a nice thought, and he must have dozed off to it, because the next thing he was aware of was wet and cold.
Harry shot up in the bed. His hair was dripping, soaked curls hanging in front of his eyes. Droplets of water ran down his bare chest. The sheets and blanket were damp.
Louis stood next to the bed with a smug grin. In one hand he was holding an empty glass.
About thirty minutes later, Harry was parked outside the football pitch. His hair was still wet and the bedsheets were currently going through the dryer. Louis climbed out of the car, duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
He waved at Harry and blew him a kiss as he walked away. Harry flipped him off.
When he was back home, he left an ad for driving lessons on Louis’ bed.
---
Harry was certain Louis hated him. He was also certain he hated Louis more.
He wasn’t so sure what made Louis dislike him so much (for a little bit, he even thought they could get along well), but it was obvious since the first day Harry moved in. It was like Louis was picking out anything that might get the tiniest bit on Harry’s nerves and doing it. All the time.
He left his shoes in the middle of the hallways, which Harry had a pretty good track record of tripping over, even when he asked him, kindly, if he could start putting them by the door. He was constantly in Harry’s space, tugging at this hair (he got it, Louis thought it was weird it was so long, but Harry wasn’t going to do anything about that) and hanging over him, distracting him from his homework or a paper he had to write.
If Harry was cooking, Louis was there, sitting on the counter and questioning every part (How do you whisk? Really? Who didn’t know how to whisk?). If it was Harry’s turn to do the laundry, Louis’ clothes wound up everywhere. He once found one of his shirts sticking out from under the couch cushion, and a pair of his jeans in the bathtub.
Harry’s own clothes went missing sometimes, like once it started getting colder and all of his jumpers mysteriously disappeared. He had to walk around campus for days either overheating in a thick jacket or freezing in just a shirt, until Louis showed up wearing one of the jumpers and Harry found the rest stashed in his closet.
He barely had time to even work on his music anymore, with both classes and Louis constantly bothering him. He’d sit down to write and Louis would appear, talking way too loudly and deciding Harry’s lap was a great place to rest his feet. Harry felt like he might explode.
The rest of their roommates seemed to love Louis, though. Zayn and Louis were both a year above the rest of them and had been friends for a while, deciding to live in a student house to meet some new people and because it was cheaper. They seemed to be close, and if Harry got time to himself it was usually because Louis was off hanging out with Zayn somewhere.
Niall thought Louis was absolutely hilarious. There were times Harry was sure Niall couldn’t even breathe because he was laughing so hard at something Louis said or did. They played football together out back sometimes, and went out to pubs when everyone else was busy, coming home smashed and giggling about nothing in peticular.
Liam was wary about Louis at first, maybe for how loud he was and his no concept of personal space. Harry could understand. They weren’t as close as the rest of them for the first few weeks, but whatever it was, they got over it. They play fight and wrestle a lot, even though Liam could easily overtake Louis in just a few moments, if he really wanted to, and had been at a prank war with each other for the last month.
And when it was all five of them together, whether they were out eating, clubbing, or sitting around playing Playstation, Louis was always at the center of it all, what drew them all in and kept them steady. Harry just didn’t get it.
Now months later, nobody even seemed to know he was less than impressed with Louis. He wasn’t going to be the one to make things awkward with them.
So. Louis didn’t like Harry, and Harry didn’t like him. It was fine, whatever, but Harry wasn’t sure he could take another doused-with-water wake up call.
---
Hey !! Come pick me up !!
Harry stared at his phone, then at his laptop screen and his half-written essay.
Why would I do that?
Because you looovveee me
Louis included three different heart emojis. Harry’s eyebrows raised. He considered just turning his phone off.
You poured water on me this morning.
Really ? I don’t recall
There was an upside-down smiley face emoji this time. This was the most they had ever texted, and Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know Louis was an avid emoji user.
A new message came a minute later.
You’re the only one of the lads who can drive
Three sad face emojis. Honestly, what the fuck.
Harry replied with a screenshot of the bus stops and times. Louis replied with an angry face emoji.
Getting a rise out of Louis, to actually turn the cards in his favor for once, was pretty amusing. He even found himself grinning at his phone.
If you pick me up we can get some food on the way back I’ll pay
Tempting.
IN FACT if you be my permanent ride to football we can get food everyday
A permanent ride? Harry didn’t think he could handle that much Louis for the rest of the football season. He wasn’t sure why Louis would even want Harry to drive him.
Harry sent, I’m not sure that’s exactly healthy. And then, What about your usual ride?
Im sure he’d be quite happy to get away from me for awhile
Alright if you don’t want food i’m willing to do anything you DO want
That… had Harry considering. Do a favor for Louis and subsequently make Harry’s life easier in the process? It seemed too good to be true.
Will you start putting your clothes in a basket when I’m doing laundry? And pick up your shoes?
He got an unamused face emoji in response.
Is it really that hard?
No it’s just fun to see you frustrated
Well, yes. Harry got that a long time ago.
I’ll drive you to and from your football practice if you do those things. That’s my offer.
Fine
Now come get me its bloody freezing !!
---
On the third day of Harry chauffeuring, things started to change.
It started out like normal, Louis climbing on his bed and hitting him with a pillow to wake him up. He had an alarm that was set to go off five minutes later, but this was more fun to Louis. Apparently.
Liam went for runs in the morning and was already up, so Harry decided to make tea for the two of them. Then Louis came in and demanded he needed tea, so he made some for him, too. He may or may not have put sugar in it, and may or may not have smiled when Louis took a sip and gave him a nasty glare.
So Harry wasn’t exactly too happy with Louis. Nothing out of the ordinary.
When they got in the car, Louis threw his bag in the back and kicked his feet up on the dashboard. Harry had tried to ask him not to do that a few days ago so he didn’t dirty up his car, but it had been a lost cause.
“Why would I do that when I can show off my amazing legs like this?” Louis had said.
Harry had looked at him, and then down to his legs. He was wearing joggers, and if Harry hadn’t seen him wearing jeans so tight he suspected they might actually be jeggings before, he would have no idea what his amazing legs looked like.
Louis just smiled.
Now, Harry just sighed and started the car. He turned on the radio, but only a few seconds passed before Louis was changing the station.
“Hey,” Harry protested, “I liked that song.”
“I think we’ve had quite enough of your music for a while,” Louis said, flicking through the channels. He decided on some pop station, blasting an overplayed song Harry wasn’t particularly fond of.
Louis seemed to be though, because he started singing along. It was only a soft hum, and Harry shot him a look. Something on Harry’s face must have given him away, that this wasn’t a song he enjoyed or enjoyed Louis singing along to, because Louis’ lips quirked and he began singing louder.
The thing is, Harry knew from living with him for months that Louis could actually sing, was even rehearsing for a musical where he had a lead role for his drama class. He could probably smash this song, put on a performance Harry wouldn’t hate as much as he did the original, but right now, in the car, Louis was trying his best to sound like a dying cat on helium.
It should grate on Harry’s nerves even more. He was trying to drive, for God’s sake, and it was hard to focus when Louis was purposely distracting him. It would be Louis’ fault if they got in a crash, even though they were only a few more minutes from the field. Harry should be telling him to quit it. He should glare, or roll his eyes, or give some indication that he was annoyed.
He definitely shouldn’t be laughing.
He couldn’t help it. Louis was effortlessly hilarious, singing--screeching at the top of his lungs like he didn’t have a care in the world, bopping his head and giving dramatic expressions. There was something about the ease of the moment, the early morning, the resignation that Harry would be driving this boy around for weeks longer, that left him feeling just endeared by this--whatever it was, really.
He took his eyes off the road to glance at Louis. He was beaming at him as he started to sing the next verse, pointing at Harry at the you and pretending to hold a microphone in front of him. Harry turned back, trying to keep his laughter contained so he could concentrate, but he couldn’t do anything about his remaining grin.
He felt a poke to his cheek, right where his dimple would be. Louis was smiling even wider, like it was an accomplishment. Harry didn’t know what to think about that.
---
Louis was getting into his car again a few hours later, freshly showered and changed into jeans and a sweater. He looked...comfortable, like a picture of soft and cuddly.
Not that Harry wanted to cuddle him, or something. That would just be weird.
“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Louis said, once they were on the road, “for, you know, doing this. Giving me a lift. You really didn’t have to.”
Harry hoped he didn’t look as shocked as he felt.
He was severely disappointed.
“Okay, Styles,” Louis snorted. “Yes, I am capable of giving thanks. You can run and tell the masses.”
God, Harry felt like a dick. “No, that’s not--I don’t,” he spluttered.
Louis looked amused. Harry felt something inside him deflate.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “This doesn’t feel like the kind of situation anybody says thanks for.”
It was true. Harry wasn’t doing this out of the kindness of his heart. Louis had his own end of the deal--which so far he was holding up. The shoes were gone from the middle of the floor and Harry could walk around without fearing for his life. Harry’s laundry day wouldn’t be for another week, so he didn’t know whether or not Louis was going to complete that part, but he had faith that he would, as stupid as it sounded.
Harry wasn’t going to win an award for Most Noble Man of the Year, at least not for this.
Louis shrugged. “Well. I am.”
“You’re welcome, then.” It was all he could think to say.
They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride. Louis turned the radio on, changing Harry’s music to something he liked again. He didn’t sing along this time, just stared out the window and tapped his foot on the dashboard.
It was different from every other day they had done this, where Louis would talk his ear off about anything that seemed to come to mind. This might have been one of the only times Harry had seen Louis quiet around him.
He wanted to ask if he was okay, if maybe something had happened during his practice, but he wasn’t sure if he could even do that. They weren’t really friends, were they? And Louis might not appreciate it coming from him. So Harry stayed silent.
Louis got out of the car as soon as they were back at the house. He was rushing, and Harry had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to be around him, but he didn’t know what for. He felt almost guilty, over something he may or may not have done.
Something told him he should be happy that Louis was leaving him alone. That was all he wanted, wasn’t it? It should be a blessing, really.
All Harry wanted to do was apologize.
He was about to follow Louis, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed his duffle bag, forgotten in the back seat. Louis was already entering the house, so Harry grabbed it himself and hoisted the strap over his shoulder.
When he was inside, Louis was by the door, one foot ready to step out. He jumped back a bit when he saw Harry, eyes widening as they spotted the bag.
“Oh,” he said. He seemed startled, not helped by Harry shrugging the bag off and handing it over to Louis. “Um. Thank you.”
If Harry had never seen Louis quiet, he had definitely never seen him at a loss for words. It was odd. Everything about today was odd. Harry wondered if he pinched himself if he would wake up in his bed.
It was also the second time today and the second time ever that Louis had thanked him.
They were still standing in the doorway. Harry glanced around. Niall was sitting on the couch in the living room, typing away on his laptop, probably working on some assignment. Or maybe he was just on Twitter. Either way, he didn’t seem bothered by Harry and Louis over by the door.
“You’re welcome,” Harry said again. He took a breath. “Did I do something?”
Louis arched his eyebrows. He stared at Harry for a few seconds, and Harry shuffled uncomfortably. “What?”
“Did I do something?” Harry repeated. They were standing close; he had to look down to meet Louis’ eyes. “You seem upset.”
Well. It wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to say. You’re not talking to me would have been just fine. Who knew if Louis even was upset, or angry, or whatever he was. Who knew if he wanted Harry to voice it. But now it was out there, an admission that he had picked up on a change in Louis’ behavior and categorized it as upset.
Something about it was funny to Louis, because he breathed out a laugh. Harry frowned. Trust Louis to not take one thing seriously. Why did Harry even try?
“No, no, I’m not upset,” Louis said. He was smiling now. “I just--yeah, no, not upset. You didn’t do anything. Don’t worry.”
“Oh.” He didn’t… He wasn’t expecting that. What was he even expecting? Louis to say Harry had caused him uncontrollable grief just by being around him? “That’s good. That you’re not sad, I mean. And not that I didn’t do anything. Well, that’s good too, but I mean--”
“Harry,” Louis interrupted, letting out a giggle. Like, an actual giggle. “I know what you mean.”
“Right,” Harry said. This was the most awkward thing he’s ever been through. “Right.”
“I’m quite flattered, Harry Styles,” Louis said then. And what? “Carrying my bag for me and making sure I’m not upset. You’re a charming one.”
Okay, really, what?
“Uh, thanks?”
Louis rolled his eyes. He was still smiling. Harry had never been more confused. “Maybe not so charming, actually. I still have to decide.”
He patted Harry’s cheek and walked off. Harry stared.
“So,” a voice said. Harry’s head snapped towards Niall, still on the couch and grinning at Harry. “You and Louis, huh?”
“What?”
“You know,” he said. He did something with his eyebrows Harry didn’t think a human should be able to do. “You and Louis.”
And oh. Oh.
“What?” Harry stumbles away from the door, moving further into the living room. “I… we’re not--no! He hates me, Niall.”
Niall looked puzzled. “Are you kidding me? He doesn’t hate you. What makes you say that?”
Harry flapped his hands in a wild gesture he hoped illustrated everything. “He does things just to annoy me! All the time!”
“He doesn’t…” Niall trailed off, shaking his head. “So you’re not together. I was half convinced you two were secretly fucking.”
Harry’s face felt like it was on fire. “We’re not.”
Niall hummed and turned back to his laptop. Harry wondered what kind of alternate universe he unknowingly walked in.
---
“We should throw a party.”
From the couch, Niall, Liam, and Zayn gave Louis blank stares.
Harry and Louis had just got back from Louis’ football practice. In the car, Louis had texted the rest of the boys to tell them they were having an important meeting when he arrived about an important subject and it was important, and to be waiting in the living room. He gave Harry a sly smile while he explained, and Harry had decided it was better to just not ask.
Louis set his bag to the floor and kicked it aside, and moved to stand in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips. Harry walked over to the available chair and slumped down.
“A party?” Zayn repeated. His expression was unreadable.
“Yes,” Louis said, with a nod. “I think it’s time. We have a big enough house, and I haven’t been to one in ages.”
“You realize we all thought this was something really serious, right?” Liam said.
Louis’ eyes narrowed. “A party is completely serious, Liam. We’re at uni! If you don’t like it, then leave the house.”
Everyone was silent. Louis seemed to grow more agitated and crossed his arms.
“Well?”
Niall said, “Tommo, ‘course we’d like to throw a party. Jesus, we thought you might be dying.”
Louis grinned and ran over to Niall, tackling him in a hug. “I knew I could count on you, Nialler!”
Niall was laughing, weakly attempting to push Louis off him. “Alright, alright, you’re suffocating me.”
“I’m in too,” Zayn said. “It’ll be great.”
Liam nodded. “Just ask like a normal person next time.”
Louis’ smile was bright, enchanting, like a thousand stars rolled up into one person. Harry noticed his eyes crinkled when he smiled that big, and it was obvious he was happy. It might be because he just really wanted a party, but Harry knew better. It was because of the support from these boys, the love they all had for him.
Harry couldn’t look away, not even when Louis turned to him and gave him an expectant look.
“Well?” he asked. “What about you, Styles?”
Harry blinked, drawing himself back into reality. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
Louis gave another dazzling smile, and Harry thought, well, fuck.
---
On the night of their party, Louis dragged Harry to the store to buy drinks.
He had the rest of the boys on some sort of duty, getting snacks or setting up the music, but Louis said it was very important he was the one in charge of the alcohol.
Why Harry needed to help, he had no idea.
“I’m certainly not going to be able to carry this all by meself,” Louis explained, throwing a case of beer in the cart. Harry pushed it along while Louis moved down the aisle. “And you like carrying my things for me, so it’s a win-win.”
He shot Harry a smile over his shoulder. Harry flushed, but didn’t respond.
“Do we even have the money for all this?” he asked instead, staring down at the stack of booze.
Louis waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Groceries aren’t important, anyway.”
“Louis.”
He groaned. “Yes, we have the money. I’m just messing with you.”
A bottle of tequila was added to the cart. “Should we get some other stuff, too?”
“Like what?”
“Um, maybe some more cups? Are you sure we have enough?”
They had bought a bunch the day before, but looking at the amount of drinks they were getting and the estimated amount of people coming--which, surprisingly, was a lot more than yesterday--Harry thought they might need more.
Louis frowned. “You’re right. Can you go get some?”
Harry walked off in search of plastic cups. He found them a few minutes later, after ambling around the store for a while. He grabbed two more packs and started to head back, before he passed the produce section. He stopped, making a quick decision and taking one of the plastic bags.
He found Louis again a short while later, in the snacks aisle staring longingly at a box of cookies. He turned around at the sound of Harry’s footsteps.
“Bloody took you long enough,” he said, then noticed the bag in Harry’s hand. “Are those--limes? Did you decide twenty minutes was too long to go without some fruit, or?”
Here we go again. He couldn’t even get fucking limes without Louis making some comment. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “No. They’re for the party.”
“What would we ever need limes for?”
Harry had to look away from Louis when he answered. “Body shots, obviously.”
“Body shots?” Louis said incredulously. “Fucking hell, I didn’t know you had it in you, Styles.”
Harry set the limes in the cart. “Really?”
“Are you the type to get wild and do body shots off someone?” Louis asked. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding it from me all this time.”
“I’m probably not going to do any,” Harry admitted. “I figured other people would want to.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Louis walked out of the aisle. Harry sighed and started to push the cart. “I’ll volunteer my own body just to see this happen.”
Harry almost choked on air. “You’ll what?”
“Volunteer,” Louis said again. “It’s for the good of humanity.”
“Me doing a body shot is not that amazing,” Harry said.
“I beg to differ. And if it comes down to it, you can use my body for this purpose.”
Harry tried hard not to stare at Louis’ small waist that curved out to thick thighs and bum after that, but it wasn’t easy. He definitely failed at least twice. Everything was hot once they finally left the store.
The first people arrived around ten--some of Niall’s friends from his classes--and by midnight, Harry wasn’t sure he’d seen this many people in his life.
He knew none of them were exactly antisocial or uncool, but Harry never thought of himself as someone who could throw a party like this. The house was completely packed, to a point where Harry couldn’t move his arm without bumping into somebody. People were spilling out into the yard, and discarded cups were everywhere. Harry briefly wondered if they had enough.
Harry, somewhat grudgingly, knew that they could owe a successful party all to Louis.
His entire football team came. Harry didn’t think it was possible that not one single person was busy, but here they all were. With them came girlfriends (and one boyfriend) and other friends and classmates, who must have invited even more friends and classmates. Harry was pretty sure he had never seen most of these people in his life, much less spoken to to invite.
And there was the fact that this was all Louis’ idea, tied in with his dictator-like preparations. The music was great, the right kind of pumped and bouncy, and people passed by Harry just to tell him this was a great party, mate and the drink selection was wonderful and it was just so thoughtful they had put snacks out. Harry didn’t tell them he had nothing to do with any of that.
It all just worked together. Harry felt a spark of agitation rise up inside him, despite the bubbly effect the alcohol had on him. Why was it Louis that had to be so well-liked and good at everything? Couldn’t people see he hated Harry for no reason? That he got entertainment out of annoying people?
He was possibly a bit drunk. He needed to talk to Louis.
He walked around the house for a while (he did pass some people doing body shots on their coffee table, so there was that), looking for a pair of blue eyes standing a few inches shorter than Harry. There were a lot of people that fit that description at the party, actually, but Harry couldn’t find the right one. He came across Niall before he did Louis, in the kitchen talking to a group of girls.
Niall also matched the characteristics. Maybe he could help Harry find Louis.
“Niall,” Harry said, standing beside him. He turned to Harry, giving him a smile. The girls eyed him wearily.
“Harry!” he shouted, over the music. He was probably drunk, too, his eyes glossed over and cheeks flushed. “What can I do for ya?”
“Do you know where Louis is?” Harry asked. Sober Harry might have tried to word that differently, considering their conversation last week. Niall might think he was looking for Louis because he was concerned about him, or something, which was definitely not why Harry was looking for him.
No. He needed to yell at him for… well, a lot of things. Being a pain in Harry’s ass mostly.
“Last saw him out back,” Niall said, then laughed. “Why? Ya sure you two aren’t together?”
“Have to talk to him,” is all Harry said. Niall didn’t look any less mirthful.
Harry left the kitchen then (not before grabbing another drink and downing it), moving through the swarms of people to get to the back door of the house. He pushed it open and walked outside, the music becoming a dull thud as it swung shut behind him.
There were a couple people already outside. Some were talking amongst themselves, a few were smoking, and one pair was making out on the side of the house, but Harry didn’t want to think about that too much. It didn’t take him long to spot Louis, further out into the yard with one of the players on his team.
Harry thought he might know him, one of Louis’ closer friends on the team that he introduced Harry and the rest of the boys to at one of his games they all went to. He couldn’t remember his name, though, whether it was just bad memory or the alcohol making him forgetful.
They were standing close together, Louis smiling up at him and taking a sip from his drink. Louis said something, and the guy laughed and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it before letting go. Harry felt uneasy.
He didn’t remember moving, but suddenly he was across the yard, standing in front of them. Louis gave him a confused look, eyebrows furrowed in a way that only made Harry want to smooth them out.
Wait. What?
“Can I talk to you?” Harry said. Talking, yes, that was what he came to do. He only felt a little guilty for interrupting their conversation.
“Uh, sure?” Louis responded, hesitant. He smiled at the guy again, and no, no, why was he doing that? “Sorry, can you give us a moment?”
The guy nodded and walked away. Louis turned to face Harry.
“So,” he said, “what did you need to talk about?”
What did he need to talk about with Louis? All he could think about was what Louis and that guy were doing, and was it necessary for them to do it out here? It took him a couple seconds to remember.
“You…” Harry said, pausing. “You’re annoying.”
Louis went still. “Excuse me?”
“You like to annoy me,” Harry continued. “All the time. I don’t… I don’t understand why. You never do it to anyone else.”
“What are you talking about?” His voice was level, void of emotion. Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him sound like that.
“All the things you do, like, uh…” What did he do, again? “Oh! Waking me up every morning. And you didn’t pick up your shoes until after I started driving you. I didn’t--didn’t like tripping over them. Not fun. And you never let me play my music in my car anymore! And you’re just always around me, and I need space. It feels like I spend all my time with you now, and you just don’t leave me alone. So that’s what I need. You to leave… leave me alone sometimes.”
Louis didn’t speak for a long time. He broke his gaze with Harry, his eyes drifting to the floor, arms huddled in front of himself.
“Is that what you think?” he said quietly.
“Yes,” Harry said. “Thank you for listening.”
He stepped away and headed back to the party.
---
Harry spent most of the next day locked in his room, sleeping and nursing a horrible hangover.
He only vaguely remembered his conversation with Louis the night before. It wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to do it, or the most eloquent he had ever sounded, but a part of him was glad he did it. At least Louis knew now that Harry was done just letting him do whatever he wanted, and that Harry needed a minute (or few days, more like) to breathe.
He only left his room to use the bathroom and grab something to eat. He didn’t see Louis any of those times, so he was hoping Louis was already listening. He did see Liam though, in the living room surrounded in a mess of stray cups and spilled food. He didn’t look any better than Harry, and gave him a grunt as a greeting. Apparently they had all made a decision to wait until tomorrow to clean up, Liam said. Harry was fine with that.
For the rest of the night, Harry watched various TV shows and tried to get a headstart on yet another essay. He wasn’t sure how much he wrote, but he passed out sometime after eleven.
---
Harry woke to the sound of his alarm, something that hadn’t happened in weeks.
He realized he was expecting to be hit with a pillow instead, and wondered what that meant. And then he remembered what the alarm was for.
He checked the time, and it was ten minutes later than when Louis normally woke him up. Fuck, they were going to be late. Louis must have overslept, and Harry suspected the coach had some sort of punishment for being late to practice. He jumped out of bed, put on the first outfit he could find, and ran out of the room.
Except Louis wasn’t in his own room. Or the kitchen. Or the living room. But, even weirder, Zayn was in the living room, sitting in the chair on his phone. Harry was sure the day Zayn woke up before ten was the day Harry finished his goddamn essays.
He looked up as Harry came in, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Uh, hey,” Harry said. “Do you know where Louis is?”
“Went to football,” Zayn answered dismissively. He looked back down at his phone.
“What?” He couldn’t have heard him correctly. “I take him to football.”
Zayn snorted. “I know that.” He continued to type on his phone. “But now you don’t.”
Huh?
“What do you mean?” Harry questioned. He didn’t like the way Zayn was acting towards him, cold and uncaring. They were supposed to be friends. What happened? “He didn’t tell me that.”
“Was he supposed to?”
Probably, yeah, so Harry didn’t freak out and think they had both overslept.
“It would’ve been nice to know.”
Zayn’s head snapped up again, but now there was a fury in his eyes Harry hadn’t seen before. “Listen,” he flared. Harry took a step back in shock. “Whatever you told him at the party made it pretty damn clear that you don’t want to be around him. He’s getting rides from a friend again. He’s doing you a favor.”
What? Why would Louis tell Zayn what Harry said to him? Did Zayn know Louis didn’t like him?
Even though Harry could barely remember what he had said, he was sure he didn’t mention anything about not driving Louis to practice anymore. He had been okay with that, really. He agreed to it.
Harry had a fleeting memory of his final words. I need you to leave me alone sometimes.
“That’s not what I…” Harry started. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was drunk and wanted him to stop doing things to annoy me because he hates me. It was bothering me a lot--”
“Wait, because he hates you?” Zayn interrupted. “What are you talking about?”
“He hates me,” Harry said again, slower. So Zayn didn’t know, but why was everyone so surprised that Louis didn’t like him? “He’s always messing with me and making fun of everything I do and hanging all over me, which is what I talked to him about, but I didn’t mean I wouldn’t--”
“Hold on,” Zayn cut in again. “You think he does those things because he hates you?”
Harry was just confused now. “Why else would he?”
Zayn put his head in his hands, letting out a sigh and something that sounded like “Fucking idiots.”
“Jesus, Harry,” he eventually said. “He wants your attention. He does that stuff because he likes you.”
Harry froze, mouth running dry. “What? No, no, he doesn’t like me, he…”
He couldn’t continue. He thought back to Niall, assuming they were together, even though Harry thought it was obvious they both hated each other. It didn’t make sense for Louis to want to spend so much time with someone he hated, either, but he just supposed Louis was the kind to try and get on the nerves of people he disliked.
“Harry,” Zayn said. The anger was gone from his tone, replaced with something softer. “I’ve known Louis for two years now, and I know how he gets when he has a crush. He gets loud around them, a bit clingy. He likes to push their buttons sometimes, but they usually realize he’s just teasing. I thought you knew, or were at least indulging him because you liked him, too.”
Okay, wait. “I don’t--”
The look Zayn sent him had him closing his mouth.
“I would think about that before saying anything,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you do, and you were just blinded by your belief he hated you, but if you decide you actually don’t, that’s okay, too. Just… talk to Lou, alright? He’s really upset.”
Harry nodded, not sure what else he could contribute. He made Louis upset, a thought that didn’t sit well with him, made him shaky on his feet.
Yeah. He needed to talk to him.
“I’ll pick him up from his practice,” he decided.
“No,” Zayn said, shaking his head. “His friend is already going to drop him off. You wouldn’t have much time to talk, anyway. He has a class soon after.”
Right. It was Monday. Louis always had to rush to grab his things once Harry brought him back so he could make it to class on time.
“You could pick him up from his rehearsal later,” Zayn suggested.
Louis’ rehearsals for his drama class musical. Usually he walked home from there, because the auditorium wasn’t nearly as far from their house as the football field was, but. Harry could definitely pick him up.
“Okay,” Harry breathed. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thank you, for telling me all this.”
He was about to leave to head back to his room--to do what, he didn’t know; he certainly couldn’t sleep now--when Zayn stopped him.
“Harry,” he said. “Just don’t ever tell Louis he’s annoying again, alright?”
---
Harry was dazed for the rest of the day.
He didn’t see Louis when he got back from football practice. He wasn’t sure how he would handle it. He heard the door open and close again two minutes later from his room.
After that, he sat out in the living room, sipping from a mug of tea. He didn’t do anything but stare at the wall. Liam asked him if everything was alright before leaving for his next class. Harry said no, but didn’t elaborate.
Harry also went to his classes, but he couldn’t remember a single thing said once he got out of them. He’d have to borrow notes from some classmates, because he didn’t take any today.
Once Harry’s last class was over, there was another half hour before Louis’ rehearsal would be over. He stayed at the house for five minutes, staring at his unwritten paper, before grabbing his keys and leaving.
He would have drove himself crazy sitting around in the house, but he was also going to drive himself crazy sitting in the car for another twenty minutes. He sent a text to Louis (Can we talk? I came to pick you up from your rehearsal, if that’s okay), and then turned on the radio. It was playing one of Louis’ stations, a song he had heard quite a lot by now. He didn’t change it.
Harry thought about what he was going to do. He was going to apologize for what he said the other night, first of all. Louis never deserved that. And then…
Well, he wasn’t sure. He knew what he had decided, after wondering if Zayn had been lying to him or just misinforming him, replaying his and Louis’ entire relationship that he had apparently never judged accurately, and thinking about how he felt about Louis, if maybe he didn’t really want space from Louis, if he liked hanging out with him and wanting to be around him, or maybe he didn’t.
He just didn’t know how to say it. He had never been good at this kind of thing.
A part of him still didn’t believe Zayn. How could Harry end up being so wrong about somebody, end up misinterpreting something so badly? But the more he thought about it, the more he could see how some things may have meant Louis had a crush, and not that Louis hated him. They certainly did get Harry’s attention, if that was what Louis was going for.
It never really did make sense for someone who hated you to ask if you can drive them around, especially when they had other ways to get places.
Harry probably wouldn’t make a fool of himself in about… ten minutes. He supposed time would tell. He was just going to wing it, see where the conversation took him.
He sat through a few more songs, and then he got a text message. From Louis. It just contained a single question mark.
Harry checked the time. One more minute.
He turned the radio off and got out of the car. He walked over to the doors of the auditorium just as the first people were leaving. Louis was near the end of the crowd, eyes darting around until they landed on Harry.
Harry smiled, and Louis remained emotionless as he came closer.
“Hi,” Harry said, when Louis was standing in front of him.
“Hi,” Louis echoed. He seemed small, much smaller than usual, like he stopped trying to show his personality was bigger than anybody else could ever be.
And it was because of Harry. Maybe Zayn really hadn’t been lying, then.
People were exiting them around them, paying them no mind. “You wanted to talk?”
“Uh, yeah,” Harry said. Great start. “I wanted to apologize for what happened at the party. Zayn said you were upset. I… didn’t mean it like how it must have came out.”
This made Louis straighten, backpack shifting on his shoulders. “No, I get it,” he said angrily. “You think I’m annoying, and I’m going to leave you alone. Whatever. Is that all?”
He was mad. This was definitely not what Harry had wanted to happen.
Louis made to leave, turning away and one foot stepping out, but Harry grabbed his arm.
“No, wait,” he said. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t think you’re annoying, and I don’t want you to leave me alone.”
Louis stayed put, but the icy glare he was giving Harry didn’t seem promising. “That’s not what you were saying at the party. That list of my offenses really sold the point.”
Shit. “I was drunk,” Harry said quickly. “It--I didn’t--Zayn told me something else, too. This morning.”
Louis eyed Harry suspiciously. “What?”
“He said…” Harry took a deep breath. “He said you only do all those annoying things because you like me.”
Whatever Louis was expecting Harry to say, it wasn’t that. He leaned back, and Harry saw the flush rising to his cheeks. “What? No, I--I’m not--you can’t--” He looked away from Harry then, at something over his shoulder. “Zayn’s a filthy liar. You shouldn’t listen to anything he says.”
Harry didn’t know when he became so attuned to Louis’ behavior, but somehow he knew Zayn wasn’t the filthy liar. Something fluttered in Harry’s chest.
He ran his hands through his hair. “Louis, I… I thought you did that stuff because you hated me.”
Louis’ eyes snapped back to him. “What?”
“I thought you hated me.” Harry let out a dry laugh. “And you wouldn’t pick up your shoes or put your laundry in the basket and that you would wake me up way too early because it made me mad.”
Louis stared at him, for so long that Harry became worried he had gotten it all wrong. Or got it right, at first, and now was wrong. It was complicated. He just wanted Louis to say something.
“What in the everloving fuck gave you that idea?” he said, finally. Harry released a breath. “I don’t--Wait, this whole time? Ever since we met?”
Harry felt ridiculous.
He nodded. “It just didn’t seem like an ‘I like you’ thing.”
“Didn’t seem like--” Louis shook his head. “Harry, I never hated you. Zayn was…”
He looked down. “Zayn was right. I get annoying when I like somebody, or whatever you want to call it. It’s like I just need to have them pay attention to me, or something. And I feel like I’m giving away too much if I act too nice towards them. So I just… mess with them instead. It’s weird. I’m sorry you thought I didn’t like you.”
His face was entirely red now, and he wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes. Harry remembered the day Louis thanked him for driving him, and then became distant right after. A lot of things suddenly made a lot more sense.
Before he could tell himself no, he put his hands under Louis’ chin and raised his head.
“Hey,” Harry said, just above a whisper. “You’re not annoying, okay? I’m sorry I said that. It’s not true. I had this idea you were trying to annoy me.”
Louis smiled, the first one Harry had seen today, and he had an urge to cheer. “Maybe I was, Styles. It is quite fun to pour water on someone to wake them up.”
A small laugh left Harry’s mouth. “I still can’t believe you did that.”
“It did get you to drive me,” Louis said. “I should do it more often.”
“Wait,” Harry said. His smile fell slightly. “That reminds me. I don’t want to stop driving you to football. Actually, disregard everything I said about you needing to leave me alone. I don’t want that, either.”
Louis seemed surprised. “You don’t?”
“No, I…” Here we go. “I think I like you a lot, too.”
Louis’ mouth fell open the slightest bit. Harry almost wanted to laugh. “You think?”
“I know,” Harry corrected. “I thought about it a lot, but I can’t stand it when you’re sad. All I want to do is make it better. And I didn’t realize it before, but I think I’m happier with you. I have fun with you, Louis, and I like talking to you.”
It was true. He had thought back to the day Louis was acting weird, and how Harry just needed to make sure Louis was okay. And earlier that same day, when Louis had him laughing on his way to practice. And all those times Louis was with him when he was cooking or doing homework or writing music… he didn’t know what he would do if Louis just stopped. Harry knew it wouldn’t feel right, like something was just too noticeably missing.
For a while he had thought it would be a good kind of missing. Now, Harry was sure the empty space would keep him far too distracted to actually do anything. Louis had become his anchor over time, keeping him steady and still. When he wasn’t there, Harry felt disrupted.
“Please don’t be fucking with me, alright?” Louis said. He was frowning. “I will literally kill you.”
“I’m not.” Harry grinned as Louis visibly eased. He looked around, seeing the front of the auditorium had been vacated. “Can I kiss you?”
“I--” Louis faltered, eyebrows raising. “You certainly are blunt, aren’t you?”
He was so cute. Harry didn’t know how he never saw it before. “Well?”
“Christ, yes.”
Harry leaned down and pressed his lips to Louis’. It was time stopping, like nothing else mattered but them in this moment. Louis’ lips were soft, a perfect slide against his own. He felt hands grabbing onto the back of his hair, tugging at loose curls. He slid his own hands down to Louis’ waist and pulled them closer together.
They broke apart, only a breath away from each other. Harry stared into Louis’ blue eyes, before kissing him again.
It was messier, hotter, noses bumping into each other as their mouths moved. Harry was only slightly aware of them moving, of pressing Louis against the wall of the auditorium. Louis was making soft, little noises, probably only loud enough for Harry to hear, but they had him stiffening in his jeans. Not the best place for that to be happening.
His hands moved up Louis’ shirt, squeezing at the skin of his hips.
“Get it, Tommo!”
They sprung apart, Harry’s hands falling to his sides. He looked over, at the group of people who just walked out of the auditorium, giving the two of them smirks.
Louis was still lying on the wall, looking as breathless as Harry felt. He flipped them off and turned back to Harry.
“I thought everyone was gone,” Harry admitted. In the background, he could hear someone say, “Happy for you, Tomlinson!”
Louis groaned. “They stay behind to help clean things up and talk to the director. I usually do too, but…”
He gave Harry a pointed look. Harry just smiled.
“You’re telling me you’d rather be cleaning up than doing this?”
Louis shrugged. “I could possibly be convinced.”
Harry bent down, pressing his lips to Louis’ neck. “Would you like to come back to my car?”
“Your car?” Louis said. “Really?”
“What?” Harry said, pulling back. “It’s a nice car. You’ll love it.”
Louis lifted his hand, running it through Harry’s hair. “I definitely haven’t been in it a thousand times already.”
Harry hummed. “A brand new experience.”
Louis held out a hand. “Alright, take me to your car, then.”
Harry grabbed it, sliding their fingers together. They walked side-by-side, hands swinging between them.
“Oh, by the way,” Louis said, as he climbed into the passenger seat. “When we get home, we’re telling the other boys to either leave or enjoy the show, got it?”
Harry slammed his door shut and started the car.
---
Harry still woke up to a pillow hitting him across the face.
He didn’t blink, just rolled over and stared up at the boy sitting on his lap, right as another smack landed over his nose and eyes.
The gloriously naked boy sitting on his lap, who was up way too early.
“Wake up!” Louis shouted, and hit him again. Harry was very much wide awake. “Wake up!”
Harry hooked an arm around Louis’ waist and rolled them over. Louis shrieked, but didn’t put up much of a fight as Harry cuddled into his side.
“Shh,” Harry mumbled, closing his eyes. “It’s too early.”
There was another weak hit across his head. “I have football.”
“Can’t you stay here all day?”
Louis squirmed out of his hold. Harry peeked his eyes open to see him kneeling on the bed. “Just a couple more days, babe. And then it’s our final game, and after we win, our mornings are free.”
Harry smiled. “Sounds amazing.”
“I know,” Louis said, and flicked Harry’s nose. “Like you’ll do much more than sleep.”
“Hey,” Harry said, frowning. “I’m not opposed to other activities.”
“I’m sure you’re not. We’ll see what happens.”
Harry continued to frown, until Louis sighed and leaned over to brush their lips together.
“There, happy? Now get your lazy ass up or I’m going to be late.”
Harry obediently sat up, stretching his arms. “Can’t we snog, too?”
“You can snog me at the pitch if we’re out of here in five minutes.”
They were in the car six minutes later, Harry in the first clothes he could find and a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. Louis just looked at him and rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up on the dashboard.
Louis turned the radio on. Today, it was on one of Harry’s favorite stations, and Louis left it on and hummed along to the song playing. He rested his hand, palm up, over the gearshift, wiggling his fingers at Harry. Harry placed his own hand on top and intertwined their fingers.
Louis’ team won the game at the end of the week, making them champions of the season. Harry and Louis celebrated, along with the rest of the boys, at the afterparty at the captain’s house. After they went home that night, when they were lying in bed exhausted and sleepy, Harry told Louis he loved him. Louis said it back, and warned Harry that he might end up thinking Louis really hated him now.
Yeah. He was certain he loved Louis.