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Louis has never been too bothered by the small things.
Life’s too short to worry about messy shelves and a couple piles of laundry.
“I’m gonna go shower,” Liam warns, a judgemental finger pointed right at him. “You’d better clean up this mess.”
Unfortunately, Louis’ roommate is one of those people who worries too much about dust bunnies and dirty cups.
“Okay.” Louis groans. “Go.”
“Clean all of it.” Liam presses, letting Louis push him into the hallway. “All of it!” he shouts from behind the locked door.
Louis waits for the sound of running water to “Fuck off, Liam.” whisper.
He starts by picking up his socks and throwing them into the washer - all five of them - and he quickly washes the mugs piled into the sink.
Which reminds him, he should put the kettle on.
Liam’s phone is ringing, and Louis peeks at the screen while he punches the couch cushions back into their original shape.
“Harry’s calling you!” he shouts, but Liam’s singing under the shower, so Louis figures it can wait.
He crumples up his clean clothes and throws them into the closet, shutting the doors just in time to avoid the jumper avalanche.
He’ll sort that out another time.
He darts back into the living room and Liam’s phone is ringing again, while Louis wipes off the coffee table and while he finds his other slipper under the couch, and a chopstick, and a condom.
A very interesting lost and found that tells the story of his hookup last night, followed by Chinese takeout when the guy left.
What was his name again?
“Harry really needs to talk to you!” he shouts.
Liam’s whistling now, so he must be washing his hair.
The phone is still ringing when Louis starts the washer, and it keeps going when Louis makes himself a cup of tea.
The house doesn’t look like a warzone anymore, so Louis has a minute to spare.
He sits on the couch and he grabs Liam’s phone.
“Hello?”
The person on the other end seems to hesitate.
“You’re not Liam.” he says.
Sounds like a smart cookie.
“He’s in the shower.” Louis explains. “Can I take a message?”
“Are you the messy roommate?”
Louis blows into his cup, then gives up and rests it on the coffee table to cool down.
“In the flesh.”
“Wow.” the guy comments. “I thought he was making you up.”
Louis hums, he hides Liam’s car keys deep between the couch cushions out of spite.
“Am I that terrible?”
“Well,” the guy says. “You never took the rubbish out in two months.”
“Look, Harry - it’s Harry, right?”
“In the flesh.”
“Harry,” Louis continues. “You shouldn’t judge someone off of what someone else tells you about them, don’t you think?”
He hears laughter on the other end, an ambulance siren that sounds a little off.
“I take it you did take the rubbish out, then.”
Louis chuckles.
“Well, no.” he corrects. “But that’s not a good measure of someone’s character.”
“Fair enough.” Harry replies, his breathing a bit worked up while he seems to move around.
Louis hears cars honking, hears him cuss under his breath.
“Are you running from the police or something?”
“No,” Harry breathes. “Why?”
“Where are you?” Louis laughs. “Sounds like you almost got run over at least twice since I picked up.”
“Still getting used to crossing the street.”
Louis blinks.
“Are you five?”
That seems to amuse him, judging by the burst of laughter exploding over the traffic noise.
“I’ve recently moved to Italy.”
“Oh.” Louis smiles. “Are their streets built different?”
“They drive on the other side.” Harry clarifies. “Like most of the world.”
“Oh, right.” Louis realizes. “Sorry, I’m very dumb, in case you didn’t know.”
Harry huffs out a little laughter, he seems to be rushing somewhere.
“You don’t sound dumb.”
Louis reaches out for his cup of tea, lips curling up into a little smile when he finally manages to take a proper sip.
“What do I sound like then?”
Harry uses a beat of silence to keep him wondering.
“You sound very messy.” he decides.
Louis sticks his tongue in his cheek, nodding and rolling his eyes at no one in particular.
“Says the guy who doesn’t know how to cross the street.”
“Heeey!” Harry fights back. “It’s hard.”
They both laugh, and Louis hears tires screeching, more honking.
“Are you dead yet?”
“They tried to take me out,” Harry reassures. “But I’m still here.”
“Liam’s coming out just now.” Louis informs him. “Wanna talk to him?”
“Oh!” Harry exclaims. “I thought he was straight?”
He’s not even joking.
Louis smacks a hand over his own forehead.
“Harry,” he sighs. “He’s coming out of the bathroom.”
More of that laughter that kinda sounds like barking.
“Sorry,” Harry says. “See, here’s one thing you didn’t know about me-”
“You’re very dumb?”
“Yes.” Harry laughs. “Very.”
Liam’s frowning at him, but Louis raises a finger to have him hold just a minute.
“Would you at least tell me what’s got you in such a rush?” Louis asks him.
“I’m late to work.” Harry explains. “I got on the wrong bus.”
Louis pushes back yet another smile.
“Are the numbers different in Italian?”
“I’m in Rome,” Harry points out. “They use Roman numbers here.”
“Oh.” Louis utters, lying back against the couch cushions. “Do they?”
Harry laughs.
“No.” he admits. “I’m just dumb and I got on the wrong bus, okay?”
“There you go.” Louis nods. “That makes a lot more sense.”
“In my defense,” Harry argues. “I’ve only had this job for a month. So I’ve only come here, what- Twenty times?”
“Look at the bright side,” Louis encourages. “You might lose your job today and you won’t have to find your way there anymore.”
Liam’s making grabby hands at him now, urging him into giving him his phone.
Louis nods, he raises his finger again to have him hold just a second.
“I can tell them I’m still adjusting to the new time zone,” Harry says. “Reckon they’d fall for it?”
“Depends,” Louis replies. “Are you cute?”
“Oh, I’m adorable.” Harry shoots back. “A piece of candy dipped in honey covered in sprinkles with a cherry on top.”
“Then you’re good.” Louis assures. “Go and give them a cavity.”
“Will do.” Harry says. “Say hi to Liam for me?”
“Will do.”
When Louis hangs up he can’t help a little laugh ripping out of him.
“Your friend is crazy.” he tells Liam. “Oh!” he almost forgets. “He says hi.”
Three days go by, then Louis suddenly remembers about the incredibly random call he shared the other day with Liam’s crazy friend.
They’re just about to start on their third pint, when Louis “Did you call Harry back?” asks him.
“Who’s Harry?” Niall wonders.
“A friend of mine.” Liam explains. “We went to university together.”
“Did you call him back?” Louis urges. “He probably had something important to tell you.”
Liam levels him with a fed up look.
“Maybe next time don’t hijack my phone calls, then.”
“Call him.” Louis decides. “Call him now.”
Liam takes a sip of his beer in response, he resumes his conversation with Niall.
“Call him.” Louis insists, sticking a finger in his ear to catch his attention. “Come on,” he pushes. “Call him.” he presses, shoving a handful of peanuts in Liam's mouth as soon as he tries to speak. “Now. Call Harry right now.”
Liam doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.
So Louis “Call him!” tells him, and he loops his arms around Liam’s neck.
“Call him, Liam.” he whines. “Come on, I wanna know what he wanted to tell you.” he complains. “Call him just a minute.”
So Liam says a curse word or five, and he calls Harry.
Louis lets them speak for about two minutes, before snatching Liam’s phone and running outside.
“So,” he starts. “Did you manage to keep your job?”
Harry seems taken aback for a moment.
He was talking to Liam just a second ago.
“I did.” he finally replies. “I am very charming, you know.”
“Oh, is that right?”
Louis flicks his lighter a couple times, while Harry comes up with the next thing to say.
“I don’t even know your name, by the way.” is what he points out. “My mum told me I should never speak to strangers.”
“Tell your mum my name is Louis, then.”
“Okay.” Harry laughs. “Are you drunk, Louis?”
“Do I sound drunk?” Louis asks, taking a drag of his cigarette and looking over his shoulder just in case Liam’s running after him.
“Tipsy at the very least.”
“It’s a Friday night in London, it’s the law.” Louis argues. “What are you up to?”
“I am walking home just now,” Harry lets him know. “I spent the night playing Monopoly.”
“That’s wild.” Louis comments.
“I know.” Harry sighs. “I like to live on the edge.”
“The edge of a nap?” Louis teases, throwing his cigarette into a potted plant and running back inside.
“Love me a nice nap.”
“Do they sleep on the other side of the bed in Italy?”
He hears Harry laugh for a moment.
“I sleep right in the middle,” he replies. “Because no one will marry me.”
Louis bites back a little smile.
“Have you asked enough people?”
“The old lady walking her dog, just now.” Harry confirms. “She said no.”
Louis hums.
“Who else?”
“This morning I tried with the guy at the newsstand who sells me bus tickets-”
“Who else?”
“My boss.”
Louis giggles.
“And?”
“The waiter at the pizza place.”
“Are you asking them the right way?” Louis wonders, standing by the pub entrance to escape the cold.
A few people bump into him on their way in, but he barely notices.
“I think so.” Harry replies. “We can play it out and you can give me feedback. You are the waiter. Go.”
“Hello sir, welcome to the Italian pizza place.”
“Just how he said it.”
Louis grips the phone tight as he tries not to burst into laughter.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“An Italian beer I cannot pronounce, please.”
“Very well.” Louis continues. “And to eat?”
“An Italian pizza if you don’t mind.”
“Sounds great.” Louis shrugs. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” Harry states. “Will you marry me?”
Louis’ smile is starting to hurt his face.
“Wait,” he says. “Are you on one knee when you say that?”
“I’ve been on one knee all along.”
Louis hates him.
He’s laughing so hard a few people are turning their heads to stare at him.
“Keep trying, Harry.” Louis encourages him. “You only need one of them to say yes.”
“There’s a guy waiting for the bus, here.” Harry whispers. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Louis’ smile hasn’t dropped for half a second.
“Bye, Harry.”
A week later it’s Liam’s birthday.
He kept it simple, with just a few friends and the right amount of alcohol to get everybody hammered.
Louis’ been flirting with one of the guests for at least an hour, waiting for the right level of buzz that gets them to trip and fall into his bed together.
But then.
“Thanks, Harry.” he hears Liam say. “Appreciate it, mate.”
And the night is over.
“I gave you a whole week, Harry.” Louis scolds him. “And still no engagement. Disappointing.”
“Yeah? What have you accomplished that’s so impressive?”
Louis kicks his shoes off, so he can lie down properly on his bed.
“I’ll have you know there’s a very cute guy on the other side of this wall that is basically already in love with me.”
“So are you gonna pop the question tonight?”
Louis scoffs.
“I’m the one people propose to, dear.”
“I should try that,” Harry sighs. “Might be easier to just wait for someone else to do all the work.”
Louis chuckles.
“I hope you don’t apply this philosophy to certain aspects of your life.”
“I am a very generous lover, Louis.” Harry immediately retorts. “Which is why I would also make a great husband. These people who shot me down don’t know what they’re missing.”
“The old lady with the dog.” Louis quotes, immediately caught in a wave of hysterical laughter.
“The one that got away.” Harry sighs, and that has Louis choking for air.
The corners of his eyes are wet with tears by the time he manages to collect himself.
“What are you doing in Italy, anyway?” he remembers to ask.
He has been wondering that since the first time they spoke.
“I studied Italian,” Harry informs him. “Why not try to live in Italy for a while.”
“You don’t know anyone there?”
“I made a couple friends. One of them rented out his spare bedroom to me.”
Louis purses his lips, almost annoyed.
“Oh, I see.” he says. “Got yourself one of those sexy Italian boyfriends, huh?”
Harry just laughs in response, and Louis’ still not sure how he feels about this particular joke.
He shouldn’t have made it.
“Anyway,” he breathes out. “What do you do there?”
Aside from his Italian boyfriend, he means.
“Found a job in a private school.” Harry tells him. “Teaching English as a second language.”
Louis keeps quiet for a bit, his mind wandering off without him realizing.
“What about you?”
Louis is suddenly very aware of the party happening in the other room and he feels uneasy, he feels the clock ticking.
“Louis?”
“Yes?”
“What do you do?”
Louis squirms around a bit, trying to find a comfortable position again.
“My job is very boring.” he sighs. “Not much to say on that.”
“Sounds very mysterious now.” Harry argues. “I must know.”
Louis smiles.
“I’m an account manager for a food supplier.” he deadpans. No way he could make it sound any less boring than that.
“So people call you and they’re like-” Harry supposes. “Can I please get a shitton of mozzarella sticks? And you get it done.”
Louis shrugs as if Harry can see him.
“Almost, but more like-” he tries to explain. “Where’s the shitton of mozzarella sticks I expect you to give me every time I ask with no issues ever whatsoever? Since you are one day late I want it all for free, or I’ll have to speak to your manager.”
Harry keeps quiet at first.
“Wow.” he finally breathes.
“Told you.” Louis chuckles. “It’s just a bunch of entitled pricks yelling at me ‘cause they found a snail in their case of lettuce.”
“You should quit and move to Rome,” Harry suggests. “People don’t like mozzarella sticks here.”
Louis’ eyes go wide.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I swear.” Harry laughs. “Much easier to find these little fried mozzarella balls. When you bite into them, scorching hot liquid squirts out.”
“We’re still talking about mozzarella, yes?” Louis double checks.
“Yes.” Harry reassures him. “They are not very good if I’m honest.”
“Careful, don’t let the Italians hear you.”
“No, don’t worry,” Harry dismisses. “In this city people love to argue, it’s a proper bonding experience.”
Louis lets out an unsure chuckle.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve had a fair share of Romans passionately yelling at me when they thought I needed to be enlightened about something.”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Louis comments. “What did they yell at you for?”
“I have been found guilty of drinking cappuccinos at all times of the day. Some people take offense to that.” Harry admits. “The lady who runs the little food shop by my flat got super angry at me for not drying my hair after a shower.”
Louis stops munching on his nails to hide a small laugh in his hand.
“And my roommate almost lost his mind when he saw me have a couple fried eggs at nine in the morning.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Apparently they are only supposed to be eaten at lunch or dinner.”
Louis scoffs.
“Eggs don’t know what time it is,” he points out. “And I don’t think they would care.”
Harry responds with quiet laughter, and Louis hears him unlock a door. Or maybe he’s locking it.
“Are you just coming home now?”
“Yeah,” Harry says. “Went out for dinner with a couple friends.”
“What do the Romans have for breakfast then?” Louis wonders.
“I’ve seen people survive on espressos till lunch time more times than I can count.”
Louis hums.
“Is that how they stay skinny?”
“Maybe.” Harry realizes. “But that might also explain a lot of the yelling and most of the road rage.”
Louis can hear people singing happy birthday to Liam, which means the cake must have been brought out already.
He’ll go in a minute.
“Have you learned to cross the street yet?”
He hears Harry laugh at himself.
“I am getting better,” he replies. “But I fell down the stairs today. Long story.”
“Sounds like a very short story to me.” Louis laughs.
“It’s more complicated than it sounds! I wasn’t even supposed to be on those stairs,” Harry reveals. “I wasn’t supposed to be in that building at all.”
“Okay.” Louis sighs, smiling at the ceiling. “I am all ears.”
“I’m sad.” Louis answers Liam’s phone.
Harry doesn’t know what to say, seems like.
“Are you okay?” he eventually blurts out.
“Yeah,” Louis smiles. “But summer’s officially over. It’s been raining for two days already.”
“Well, it’s the first week of September.” Harry reminds him. “What did you expect from the UK?
“Is it raining in Rome?” Louis pouts.
“Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”
Louis bites his lip.
“Yes.”
“Wait,” Harry replies. “Let me open my umbrella before I drown.”
“Something tells me you are fucking with me, Harry.” Louis suspects.
“It’s thirty-five degrees in Rome, Louis.” Harry admits. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, is it cloudy at least?”
Harry lets out an apologetic sigh.
“I’ve never been so tan in my life,” he confesses. “We all look amazing.”
“Fuck you, guys.” Louis mutters.
Harry laughs, “Don’t distract me,” he warns. “I’m getting on the bus. Fingers crossed I won't get lost.”
“Do they keep moving the school?”
“I’m meeting a friend for aperitivo.”
“What’s that?” Louis asks, checking his email. “Sounds illegal.”
“It should be.” Harry agrees. “We sit down for hours sipping on wine and snacking on mini sandwiches and olives.”
Louis shuts his laptop closed, he spins in his desk chair to face the window behind him.
“Sounds like the Italians have life all figured out.”
“You know what I love the most about them?” Harry says. “They tell you everything.”
“As in?”
“How much they make, how many siblings they have,” Harry explains. “Why their mum and their auntie stopped talking three years ago,” he continues. “What surgery their cousin is having next Friday.”
“Jesus Christ.” Louis laughs. “Doesn’t it get awkward?”
“Not really,” Harry informs him. “You never run out of things to talk about.”
“How much do you make then?”
Harry laughs.
“I make ten euros per hour right now.”
When Louis keeps quiet, “Around nine pounds.” Harry clarifies.
Louis’ eyebrows shoot up.
“How are you still alive?” he questions. “Can you afford toilet paper?”
“We have bidets here.” Harry brags. “Toilet paper lasts much longer.”
Louis smiles at that.
Harry never runs out of witty things to say.
“How much is your rent?”
“Four hundred a month all bills included,” Harry replies. “And I have a balcony.”
“Well, I have a window in the bathroom.” Louis shoots back. “How’s that?”
“In London?” Harry says. “Very rare.”
Liam comes back from work around half six.
“Forgot my phone at home,” he grunts. “Or someone stole it, not sure yet.”
Then he realizes Louis’ not listening to him, he sees him giggling and spinning in his chair like a child and “Oh.” he utters. “There it is.”
He tears his phone out of Louis’ hand then, eyes bulging out of his head when he looks at the screen.
“You’ve been on the phone for seven hours?!”
Louis narrows his eyes at him.
Harry was telling him about the neighbor feuds he sees from his balcony, before Liam interrupted them.
Rude.
“Can I have that back, please?”
Liam doesn’t even have the strength to argue.
“Please charge it when you’re done.” he gives up. “I’m gonna order some food. You want anything?”
“So did she steal the cat?” Louis asks Harry. “Or did the cat really just like her better?”
“She feeds him steak,” Harry tells him. “If I was a cat, I’d move into her garden too.”
“I think you should steal the cat,” Louis proposes. “The ladies might be able to bond over the mystery and be friends again.”
“That might work.” Harry laughs.
Louis’ phone happens to be dead more often than not.
It’s only fair he borrows Liam’s.
“You realize I haven’t been able to watch Netflix in bed for a month?” Liam scolds him.
But Louis only borrows his phone three or four times a day, Liam’s making it sound like the end of the world.
Louis needs to check the weather forecast in the morning.
He needs to order batteries on Amazon, check what movies are worth seeing at the cinema this weekend, google how to get chocolate stains out of his jeans.
And if Harry happens to call exactly when Louis happens to be using Liam’s phone, well.
It would be rude not to answer.
“Just give him your number.” Liam snaps at him one night.
Niall seems very confused by the situation.
More amused, though.
“What for?” Louis disagrees. “I just answer his calls when you’re not around. I’m doing you a favor.” He points out. Then he sips on his beer and “You should thank me.” he concludes.
“How bad is it?” Niall asks.
“You know Liam,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Always making a big deal out of nothing.”
Liam’s ignoring him at this point. He’s showing Niall all the calls Harry’s made to his number over the past couple weeks.
He’s showing him the length of each call, too.
“Lou, you know I’m all for fucking with Liam,” Niall tells him. “But you need to give this guy your number and get it over with.”
“Get what over with?” Louis huffs out.
His cheeks feel a bit hot.
“I don’t even know the guy.” Louis mutters, running off to get another drink.
He does not appreciate being attacked this way.
“You stalk his Instagram.” Liam shoots as soon as Louis’ back in their booth. “I saw you.”
“That’s a strong accusation, Liam.”
“I saw you look for the place he works at on Google Maps.”
Niall’s laughter does not help in making Louis feel any less creepy.
“It’s called being curious,” Louis argues. “It's healthy and it’s normal.”
“Why don’t you just give him your number?” Liam sighs, exhausted. “Just-” he inhales. “Louis.”
Louis shakes his head.
“You don’t get it,” he shrugs. “I don’t want him to call me.”
Niall and Liam are staring at him, proving that no, they do not get it.
“That’s not the game.” Louis tries to justify. “He is calling Liam,” he attempts to explain. “He is not calling me.”
“But I don’t speak with him.” Liam snorts.
“Yeah, but-” Louis breathes. “He is calling you. I just happen to answer sometimes.”
“Okay, but Lou,” Niall intervenes. “Liam never speaks to him.”
Louis laughs, frustrated.
“That’s not the point.” He grits out. What the hell is so hard to understand? “He is calling Liam’s phone.”
“But he only speaks with you!” They both yell at him.
They yell.
Louis never did anything to deserve this level of abuse from his best mates.
“What time do you have to get up tomorrow?”
“You mean today?” Harry laughs. “My alarm goes off in three hours.”
Louis yawns.
He’s still in his clothes.
The couch is uncomfortable, but he was only supposed to lie on it for a few minutes.
Just the time to quickly catch up with Harry.
“And what time should Liam expect your call?” Louis casually asks.
He hears Harry’s quiet laughter on the other end, hears him return Louis’ yawn.
“I will definitely call Liam on my lunch break.” he informs him. “And after work, if he’s not too busy.”
“I suppose he’ll find five minutes for you.” Louis reassures. “I’ll make sure he gets your call, anyway.”
Harry hums.
“Do you think Liam will need me to wake him up, too?” he wonders. “I think he stayed up really late tonight.”
Louis chuckles, eyelids heavy.
“He’s working from home, don’t worry.” he says. “He can afford to get up late.”
“How can he work from home?” Harry teases. “Last time I checked, he was a personal trainer.”
“Yeah, well, there’s ways.” Louis shoots back. “Don’t question it too much.”
“I won’t.” Harry breathes.
His voice sounds deeper, tired and broken with sleep.
“By the way,” Louis yawns again. “He apologizes for keeping you up so late and fucking up your whole day tomorrow.”
Harry laughs, quiet, a bit strained.
“Tell him it’s my fault,” he mumbles. “I really enjoy talking to him.”
Louis’ grin is starting to hurt his cheeks.
He doesn’t want to hang up yet.
“Forgot to ask,” he lures him back in. “What’s the update on the stolen cat?”
When Louis blinks his eyes open, Liam is towering above him.
“Are you still on the phone?”
Louis grunts something that was meant to resemble words, he stirs under the blanket Liam must have put on him.
“You are sleeping,” Liam whispers. “Give me that phone.”
“No, I’m listening.” Louis mumbles. “I’ll give it back in a minute.”
Liam bends over him then, he presses his ear to the back of his phone and he keeps quiet for a few seconds.
“Louis,” he grunts. “Harry’s sleeping too, come on.”
Louis laughs. He’s still half dreaming.
“In a minute.” he says, before turning around and falling back asleep, Liam’s phone tucked safely away from him.
“You know,” Louis whispers, locking himself into the bathroom. “He’s been very forgetful lately.”
Harry makes a little shocked sound.
“I think he’s got something going on with that girl.” Louis speculates.
“The one they just hired at the gym?”
“Yes,” Louis confirms. “Bet they’re messing around.”
“Good for him.” Harry comments.
“Yeah, but it’s concerning.” Louis disagrees. “He forgot his keys at home yesterday. And a couple days ago he forgot his card at the pub.”
Harry hums.
“Sounds like he’s got his mind stuck somewhere.”
“He does!” Louis presses. “He doesn’t even take his phone with him when he leaves the house.”
Harry clicks his tongue.
“It’s official, then,” he concludes. “He’s desperately in love with her.”
“Yeah, but he’d better go nice and slow,” Louis worries. “Wouldn’t want him to kick me out so he can move in with his girlfriend.”
“Do you want me to break them up?”
Louis lets out a devilish giggle.
“What are you thinking?”
“We can spread rumors about him.” Harry immediately decides.
“We can say he’s bald,” Louis suggests. “Under his buzz cut wig.”
“I love it.” Harry agrees. “Nobody will ever want him again.”
“Louis, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Harry says that night. “But I can hear you typing while you talk to me. You are hurting my feelings.”
Louis snorts a little laugh.
“Sorry,” he groans. “This guy’s been hitting me up for weeks. I might go out for a pint with him just to shut him up.”
“That might be counterproductive.” Harry points out.
Louis deletes the text he was typing.
“Blocking him seems a bit much, no?”
“Depends,” Harry offers. “Are you into him?”
Louis shrugs.
“He’s alright.”
“Block him.” Harry shoots back.
That tears laughter right out of Louis’ belly.
“Let’s not make rash decisions.” he replies.
Harry sighs.
“What do you want me to say?” he retorts. “It’s hard enough to hear you consider cheating on me. It’s only fair that I sabotage every attempt.”
Louis’ mouth might have fallen open a bit.
That’s-
New.
“You got some nerve, mister.” Louis playfully scolds him. “You are living with your Italian boyfriend as we speak.”
“Yeah, but I am not being faithful to him.” Harry pushes back. “Out of respect for you.”
Louis bursts out laughing, he even mutes himself for a few seconds not to give Harry the satisfaction.
“You should break things off with him,” Louis accuses him. “If you want us to go any further.”
“Slow down, now.” Harry mocks him. “First of all you need to block this loser,” he presses. “Then we can talk about commitment.”
Louis blocked him five minutes ago.
“I’ve been committed since day one,” Louis spells out. “While you go around and propose to everything that breathes.”
Harry takes a moment to laugh quietly, perhaps a bit embarrassed, before replying.
“Maybe I was just practising for when I’ll propose to you. Have you considered that?”
“You are the worst.” Louis chuckles, a hand pressed to his chest to feel his own heartbeat.
Harry stirred up a little storm inside of him, and that’s not something Louis can allow himself to think about.
“I am on one knee, for the record.” Harry cares to inform him.
“Shut up.” Louis laughs. “Put that ring away,” he urges. “I’m not ready.”
Harry lets out a long, pained sigh.
“Fine,” he yields. “We can keep dating a bit longer, I suppose. But let’s agree we stop cheating on each other while we’re at it.”
Louis pinches on his bottom lip to keep from smiling like an idiot.
“Deal.” he accepts.
“When’s the last time you got tested?” Harry asks.
Louis’ still lying on his bed.
He hates the idea of wasting a day off getting his blood drawn and his sexual history investigated.
“Eight months ago, I think?” he tries to recollect. “Give or take.”
“Come on, Lou.” Harry decides. “Just go.”
Louis’ reply is nothing more than an annoyed groan.
“You took the day off, anyway,” Harry tries to reason with him. “Might as well.”
Louis keeps quiet, he fiddles with the strings of his hoodie for a while.
“I’ll go, too.” Harry offers. “We go together.”
Louis’ lips curve into a little smile.
“You mean you’ll waste a day off to go get tested too?”
“I’m texting my manager right now.” Harry states. “We’re going.”
Louis rolls his eyes.
“Fine,” he scoffs. “But when we get married you’d better not boss me around this way.”
“You’d better take the rubbish out every once in a while.” Harry shoots back.
Louis cackles.
“If you ask me nicely,” he allows. “I might.”
“It’s fucking freezing,” Louis stutters. “And it’s just started.”
“Then quit smoking and stay inside.” Harry tells him off.
He’s not wrong.
“Are you getting time off over the holidays?”
“The school closes for three weeks,” Harry confirms. “I’ll jump on a train and finally go explore a bit more of the country.”
Louis rushes back inside the building, his feet numb inside his shoes.
“You’d better be faithful, Casanova.”
Harry reacts with a little laugh, low and sweet.
“Always.”
Liam’s on the phone with him.
They’ve been at it for at least ten minutes, and Louis has no idea what they have to talk about that would take so damn long.
It’s just two words: Merry and Christmas.
When Liam finally hands him the phone, Louis positively rips it out of his hand.
“Buon compleanno!” Harry tells him.
“I’ll take a wild guess,” Louis says. “That’s Merry Christmas in Italian.”
Harry clicks his tongue.
“It’s happy birthday, silly.”
Louis hides his face into his own jumper.
“Grazie.” he thanks him.
He googled how to say that this morning.
“Awful pronunciation,” Harry carelessly points out. “But I appreciate the effort.”
“You must be a very annoying teacher.” Louis grits out, sneaking away and hiding in his bedroom. “Thank God you’re miles away.”
Harry’s offended gasp only has him laughing harder.
“Are you going home, then?” He changes the topic. “Everything ready?”
“Yeah, I’m leaving tonight.” Louis confirms. “Can’t wait.”
“I’ll call Liam when you get there,” Harry informs him. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”
Louis smiles, he looks down as if Harry can see him blush.
“I’ll tell him to keep an eye on his phone.”
“I think he’s actually going to call you,” Louis presses. “Please don’t forget to update him.”
“You can take the damn phone with you, for all I care.” Liam shrugs.
Louis rolls his eyes.
“Why would I ever do that?”
Then he kisses Liam on his cheek, he grabs his bag and heads out.
“Wait,” Liam stops him. “Harry got you these.”
Louis immediately whips back around, and his bag drops to the floor as soon as he sees it.
The hysterical laughter ripping out of him isn’t doing him any favours.
“Harry got me flowers?” he questions. “Fuck off.”
Liam’s got a little grin on his face.
“Well, he forced me to get you flowers,” he clarifies. “If that still counts.”
It does.
Hell if it does.
“I’ll give them to my mum.” Louis blurts out, claiming the bouquet for himself and rushing out the door.
There’s a note.
But the son of a bitch wrote it in Italian.
Louis’ losing his mind because there’s no signal on this train and he won’t be able to figure out what it means for the next hour at least.
Questo biglietto non significa niente, ma immaginare la faccia che hai fatto quando lo hai scoperto mi fa morire .x
The hardest part is trying not to imagine what it could say, his brain playing tricks on him for the whole time he stares at his phone and prays for ten seconds of Internet connection.
Could be teasing of some sort, Louis’ pretty sure about that.
Could be one of their jokes about marriage, or being faithful.
Perhaps the kidnapping of the red cat.
He finally manages to copy paste it into Google translate after what feels like an eternity.
This note means nothing, but picturing the face you made when you found out is killing me .x
Louis laughs and he grabs the flowers resting on the empty seat beside him.
He kinda wishes he had Liam’s phone with him, even for just a minute.
“I’m not going to lie, mum,” Louis admits. “They were actually a gift for me.”
His mum has already put the flowers in a vase, the vase at the center of the table.
“Oh?” she grins. “From?”
Louis laughs in response.
“My Italian boyfriend.” he whispers, like a secret. “Keep it to yourself.”
He insists on celebrating New Year’s Eve at their flat.
It takes a couple days of begging and manipulating, and promising to buy all the booze.
This shit cost him three hundred pounds and most of his mental sanity, because he spends the night staring at Liam’s phone.
He hasn’t spoken to Harry in a week and the last time that happened was-
Well, never.
The phone rings while everyone downs the fifth or sixth shot - he lost count - but Louis drops his glass and ruins the tablecloth as soon as he hears it.
The house might as well be burning down for all Louis cares, the sky might be falling on their heads.
All he sees is Harry right on the screen, and his hands are shaking while he runs off and locks himself into his bedroom.
“Buon ano nuovo!” he carefully spells out.
Harry instantly bursts into laughter.
Louis is ashamed to even admit to himself how much he missed that sound.
“You just wished me a happy new asshole,” Harry kindly lets him know. “But I’ll take it.”
“Oh, God.” Louis sighs, slapping a hand over his own face as if wanting to hide from him. “Well, you know what I meant.”
Harry’s laughter still hasn’t died out.
“I almost forgot what you sounded like.” he finally says, and Louis can hear the smile pulling at his lips in the way he speaks.
“So it wouldn’t take you that long to get over me, huh?” Louis teases him.
He’s already lying down on his bed, shoes off, a hand pressed to his chest as his heart starts racing for no good reason.
Harry keeps quiet, and Louis’ not sure what to say at first.
“One more hour till the new year in the UK.” he settles on. “What does the future look like?”
That seems to shake Harry out of the haze.
“Let me park my spaceship and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Louis hides his laughter into his pillow.
He bites it, too, but that never happened.
“Guess you’ll call Liam in a bit to wish him a happy new year, then?”
“I’m worried I’ll forget,” Harry argues. “How about we stay on the phone until then?”
Louis lets out a fake sigh.
“If you’re gonna cry about it.” he replies.
“I am.” Harry shoots back. “And the Romans taught me that if you cry on New year’s you’ll be crying all year.”
“I couldn’t do that to you,” Louis smiles. “What do the Romans say will happen if you are shitfaced on New Year’s?”
Harry laughs, like the way Louis’ been slurring his words suddenly started making sense.
“I’m afraid you’ll be drunk all year, Lou.”
Louis rubs at his tummy to try and get it to unknot.
“Sounds like a party.” he laughs.
“You know that Roman Empire thing?” Harry tells him one evening. “What’s yours?”
Louis stops sipping his coffee, he sits down on a bench, watching the river flow relentlessly.
“You mean the thing I obsessively think about?”
Harry hums, waiting for an answer.
Louis needs to come up with a convincing white lie.
“Where the fuck Liam was on Niall’s birthday.” he says.
“I’m intrigued.”
Louis smiles, eyes fixed on the horizon.
It’s funny to think that he and Harry are under this same sky, yet he feels so far.
He feels so far.
“So we all go out for dinner to have steak and get Niall drunk to forget he’s turned thirty,” Louis reveals. “And at some point, between the pictures and the cake, Liam disappears.”
Harry’s gasp is so exaggerated Louis almost bends in half to laugh.
They are under the same sky right now.
“We check the toilets, the lounge, the bar, everywhere.” Louis continues. “We call him a thousand times but it goes straight to voicemail. So we decide to leave, thinking maybe he wasn’t feeling well or something and must have gone home.”
“But?” Harry prompts.
“He pops out while we walk to the train station,” Louis tells him. “Out of fucking nowhere.”
Harry seems to think about it for a minute.
“Think the aliens beamed him up?”
“I swear to you,” Louis presses. “It keeps me up at night.”
Something is definitely keeping him up at night, and it’s under the same sky.
It’s already getting dark, and he tells Harry just that, complaining about winter as he gets up from the bench and starts to make his way home.
“I’ll walk you to the bus stop.” Harry says.
“What’s yours?” Louis asks him in return.
Harry chuckles, he breathes in.
“My Roman Empire is the fact you told me you don’t like walnuts because they are spicy.”
Louis frowns.
“What’s wrong with that?”
Harry takes a while to answer, he’s too busy cracking up.
“They’re not spicy, Lou.” He tells him. “You’re just allergic.”
Oh.
He never thought about it that way.
“Liam,” Louis finds the courage to ask him after months of trying to find out. “Harry is- you know?” he goes, putting a hand on his hip and the other one up to flash him the good old limp wrist.
Liam looks puzzled.
“A dancer?”
“A homosexual.” Louis spells out for him. “He’s gay, right?”
Liam finds it funny.
“I don’t know.” he shrugs. “Ask him.”
“I can’t ask him.” Louis grits out, letting Harry’s call go to voicemail for the first time since this started. “That would be obvious.”
Liam sits up straight on the couch, he pins his elbows on his thighs and holds his face up with both hands.
Louis does not appreciate being stared at this way.
“What would be obvious?” Liam questions.
Louis flips him off.
“I could swear Liam told me to call him at one.” Harry points out. “But he didn’t answer.”
“Sorry,” Louis apologizes. “He was busy.”
He can’t just outright ask him.
That’s inappropriate.
“Had a good day so far?”
“Yeah, so far so good.” Harry replies. “You?”
You can’t ask these things, not after so long anyway.
It would be weird.
“Lou?”
Liam knows for sure, he’s just fucking with him.
“Hello?”
Who’s the girl in the last two pictures Harry posted?
She’s pretty and tall.
“Louis?”
“Can I ask you something?” Louis utters, clearing his throat to try and get his voice to come out.
“Of course.” Harry replies, his tone seemingly surprised.
There must be a good way to phrase this.
One that doesn’t seem too direct.
“Lou?”
What’s a good metaphor to find out if Harry likes dick?
“Are you still there?”
He should probably leave it.
“What’s your favorite spot in Rome?”
He slaps his own face as soon as it’s out.
Pathetic.
Harry huffs out what wanted to be laughter, but seems more like a confused sound.
Louis can’t blame him.
“Might be a bit cliché,” he eventually replies. “But I think the Colosseum.”
“Cool,” Louis sighs. “Speaking of gladiators,” he tries again. “Have you ever slept with a guy?”
There.
Done.
The silence on the other end of the call lasts so long that Louis wonders if the signal has dropped.
But then Harry starts laughing.
Louis tries to push through it to get to the truth, but Harry’s amusement only seems to increase as the seconds keep passing by.
He’s wheezing at this point, gasping for air until he manages to breathe. And laugh a bit more, a bit louder this time.
Louis hangs up on him.
“I got Harry on the phone,” Liam lets him know the following morning. “Wanna say hi?”
Well, he’s on the phone.
Liam didn’t exactly give him a way out of this mess.
Louis extends his arm reluctantly, he barely manages to wrap his fingers around the phone.
“Hey,” he utters.
“To answer your question,” Harry goes straight to the point this time. “Yes. Quite a few times.”
Louis makes sure to keep his sigh of relief quiet and brief.
“Can I ask you something?”
Louis’ heart jumps up his throat as soon as those words are out of Harry’s mouth.
He shoos Liam away with a flick of his hand.
“Sure.”
Harry keeps quiet for a handful of agonizing seconds.
“Did you steal one of Liam’s shoes?”
Louis’ terrified expression quickly turns into a grin.
“Who told you that?”
“He did.” Harry whispers, as if Liam could hear him.
Louis looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s not snooping on them.
“Yes, but it was an accident.”
Harry laughs like a mischievous child.
“What did you do?”
“Don’t judge me for this,” Louis confesses. “I threw it at a pigeon.”
“Louis.” Harry scolds.
“It was huge!” Louis justifies himself. “If I had let him in the house, one of us wouldn’t have made it out alive.”
It dawns on him in February, the day of Harry’s birthday.
He can’t sit still, waiting for the phone to ring.
Liam won’t let go of it tonight, he keeps it close and away from Louis, and he is terrified of missing Harry’s call.
Then Liam uses his phone to pay for the next round of drinks, and Louis’ heart stops for a second.
“What’s that?” he utters. “That’s not your phone.”
Niall shakes his head at him.
“You were right,” he tells Liam. “He’s lost it.”
Louis is hyperventilating at this point.
“Where’s your phone?” he panics. “What’s going on?”
Liam slides a second pint of beer under his nose, but Louis doesn’t even register that.
“I bought this back in November,” Liam informs him. “My old phone is at home. As usual.”
Oh, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
Four missed calls.
Louis is on the verge of tears by the time he manages to drag himself to the couch.
If he doesn’t get to wish Harry a happy birthday, everything will go to shit.
He doesn’t want to be the one who calls him, doesn’t want to change any of the things they usually do.
It’s a fragile balance, any small change might shatter it to pieces.
So he sits on the couch and stares at the phone, letting out a nervous little screech when, two hours later, Harry gives him another chance.
“How much salt?” Louis scoffs.
“A pinch.”
“What’s a pinch?” Louis snaps. “A pinch is not a clear amount.”
“Just put some salt in, Louis.” Harry sighs. “Trust the process.”
Louis rolls his eyes at him, but he listens.
“Did we settle on horror?” Harry asks. “Don’t make me start three movies as usual and then we end up watching nothing.”
“Fine,” Louis agrees. “You pick and I’ll just keep quiet and watch.”
“Keep quiet?” Harry teases. “When have you ever?”
“The sauce is bubbling up,” Louis tells him, slightly concerned. “My wall looks like a crime scene.”
“Lower the heat,” Harry instructs. “No lid.”
They are cooking the same thing at the same time, and they’ve attempted this before.
Louis’ dish always turns out barely edible.
“Maybe a thriller,” Louis ponders, stirring the sauce once more for good measure. “Something interesting.”
“You’re doing it again,” Harry scolds him. “We’ll end up watching a dozen trailers until we don’t feel like it anymore.”
Louis restrains some laughter.
“Well, we could talk.” He suggests. “For once.”
He bets Harry’s smiling in his kitchen in Rome.
“What pasta did you get?”
Louis forgot what it’s called.
He grabs the box from the counter, trying to make out how to say it before he even tries.
“Ri- Riga-”
“Rigatoni, great choice.”
“That.” Louis confirms. “But I couldn’t find any grated cheese,” he warns him. “It’ll have to be shredded cheddar.”
“Don’t you dare.” Harry hisses.
Louis got exactly the reaction he wanted.
“I got the parmesan right here,” he reassures him. “Calm down, chef.”
Harry seems to sigh in relief.
“You sound cheerful,” he points out. “You were all grumpy just a couple days ago. What’s up?”
Louis shakes some black pepper into the sauce, he shrugs.
“The days are longer, the sun is out,” he reflects. “Guess I just needed summer to come back.”
“Oh, almost forgot,” Harry tells him. “Speaking of coming back! I booked my return flight. I’m moving back in three weeks.”
Louis drops the entire pepper bottle into the pot, he helplessly watches it sink into a small sea of tomato.
“Are you?” he chokes out.
Is it terribly hot in here or is he just having a heart attack?
“Yup.” Harry chirps. “Home sweet home.”
Okay.
Okay, sure.
Harry’s coming to London, no big deal.
“That’s nice,” Louis blurts out. “That’s cool.”
“Are you okay?” Harry chuckles. “My water’s boiling, ready to drop the pasta in?”
Louis’ not hungry, actually.
“I gotta go.” he says.
Then he hangs up.
He hears Liam talk to him while he smokes in the kitchen.
Just the thought of Harry being on that cursed phone has his heart thumping in his chest.
“Yeah, no, he’s been busy with work I think.” Liam’s telling him. “Yeah, he’s okay.”
Louis should go to his room and lock himself in.
“He’s gone to bed,” he hears Liam lie. “Wanna leave him a message?”
Louis’ munching on his nails, and before he knows it, he’s lit up another cigarette.
“The cat’s had kittens,” Liam says, perplexed. “Got it.”
Louis laughs.
Wasn’t the cat a male?
“Turns out it’s a girl, okay.” Liam chuckles. “I’ll remember that, don’t worry.”
Louis forgets his cigarette in the ashtray, he leans on the doorframe and keeps himself there.
Liam throws a little glance at him.
“Wait,” he says. “I think he might be up.”
Louis glares at him, he shakes his head and he desperately waves his arms to immediately abort the mission.
“Oh no, never mind.” Liam corrects. “Must have been the neighbors moving around upstairs.”
Louis almost had a stroke.
He bends over slightly to let some air in.
“Yes, of course, I’d love to.” Liam’s saying now. “You tell me when.”
Louis frowns at him, because he needs to know what they’re talking about.
“Sure.” Liam says next, half a smile clinging to his lips. Then he knits his eyebrows, he sighs. “Don’t listen to him,” he says. “He had an edible that night and he was tripping.”
Louis laughs again, but then he remembers he’s technically not there, so he tries to smother it with the back of his hand.
“I was there, Harry.” Liam scoffs. “I never disappeared, he was just baked.”
Louis can hear Harry’s laughter even from where he’s standing, and he’s suddenly wishing nothing had changed.
“About an hour ago,” Liam says, scratching at the back of his head like he’s feeling deeply uncomfortable. “Yeah, I think he’s definitely asleep.”
Louis throws his head back, he sighs, he covers his face with both hands.
Then he drops his head down, he counts to ten.
When he starts getting closer to him, Liam’s not sure what to do.
So Louis makes grabby hands at him, he shrugs.
“Oh, sorry, actually-” Liam stammers. “He might be up after all.”
“How many?” Louis asks.
He hears Harry breathe out.
“Four.” Harry replies. “So the ladies might be able to split them and make peace.”
Louis gets under the sheets, he tries to ignore how fast his heart is beating.
Is it guilt?
“Are you okay?” Harry asks him.
Is it longing?
“Yeah.”
He cannot be in love with a guy he’s never seen.
“You?”
“Thought you’d be happy to know I was coming back.”
Louis squeezes his eyes shut, he tries to take a deep breath to keep his voice steady.
But then he says nothing.
“Just-” Harry hesitates.
Louis keeps quiet.
“Just know that you can talk to me.” Harry manages to say. “Whatever happened.”
It’s almost a relief, to realize Harry might not understand the reason he’s been avoiding him.
How could he take him seriously?
Louis cannot be in love with a guy he doesn’t even know.
That’s some teenage bullshit.
“Alright,” he finally replies. “But I’m okay, just been busy at work.”
“Good.” Harry immediately says. “I was a bit worried.”
Louis’ chest feels tight and too small for his heart.
Is it sadness?
“Are we going for a pint when I’m back?” Harry proposes. “I’ve already told Liam.”
“Are you bringing me a kitten?” Louis asks.
Harry chuckles.
“I might bring you all four.” he replies. “And mama cat, too.”
Is it friendship?
“Wouldn’t want to start up war again between your neighbors.” Louis discourages him. “Just leave them be.”
“Are you coming then?” Harry asks him. “I’ll wear a straw hat so you’ll be able to recognize me.”
Louis hasn’t laughed since the last time they spoke.
It feels bittersweet.
“Most people will be wearing straw hats at the pub, Harry.” Louis says. “Think of something better.”
Harry hums.
“I’ll wrap myself in an Italian flag,” he suggests this time. “How’s that?”
Louis chuckles.
“Better.”
“Fine,” Harry comments. “So you’re in?”
Is it love?
It just can’t be.
They don’t know each other.
His heart racing this way doesn’t make it real.
“Don’t know,” Louis sighs. “We’ll see.”
Harry stays quiet.
He’s never kept quiet for this long for the whole year Louis spent talking to him.
“Sleep well.” he finally utters.
“You too.” Louis replies.
But he doesn’t hang up.
“Hey,” Harry quickly says, his breathing suddenly worked up. “Lou?”
“Yes?”
Louis hears him take a shaky breath.
“I love you.”
Louis stops breathing.
The silence between them as vast as the ocean keeping them apart.
“No, you don’t.” Louis chokes out.
And before Harry can reply, he hangs up the phone.
“Are you really not coming?” Liam asks him for the fifth time. “Stop fucking around, come on.”
“I’m not coming, Liam.” Louis states. “Just go.”
He spends the night scrolling through Netflix. He starts four different movies and finishes none of them.
Harry posts a picture on Instagram around midnight.
The caption reads Got stood up tonight.
He’s drinking prosecco right from the bottle in the picture.
He looks handsome and drunk.
He’s wrapped in an Italian flag, with a straw hat on his head.
Liam keeps inviting him for the following month, every damn weekend without fail.
“Just give up, Liam.” Louis sighs. “I’m not coming.”
Liam presses his lips together, but he doesn’t ask him again.
“I’ll see you later, then.”
“Okay.”
Liam’s by the door when Louis decides to just ask him.
“Who’s the guy from the picture you posted?”
Liam tilts his head.
“Eyelashes,” Louis tries to refresh his memory. “Perfect hair. Tattoos.”
“Oh,” Liam remembers. “That’s Zayn. He’s Harry’s boyfriend.”
Louis swears something in his brain just exploded.
“Is he?”
Liam laughs at him.
“No,” he says. “He’s his best mate.”
Louis throws him his slipper.
“Fuck off, Liam.”
He gets a call from him just an hour later.
“What did you forget this time?” he grunts.
“My damn keys again,” Liam slurs. “I’ll have to ring the bell, sorry.”
“Okay, fine.” Louis reassures him, but then he hears it.
He hears Harry’s voice, lost and hazy between clinking of glasses, Niall’s Irish accent, the chatter of the pub.
“Liam,” Louis breathes. “Are you still there?”
He hears some more noise, hears Liam laugh and a glass shattering.
“Wait,” Liam tells him. “Someone wants to talk to you.”
Louis’ blood freezes inside his veins.
He can feel his heart in his throat, when a voice finally comes from the other end.
“If you’re gonna spend all night on the phone with us,” it says. “You might as well come here and have a drink.”
Louis’ legs give in from the sudden rush of adrenaline.
“Who’s this?” he asks, confused.
“It’s Zayn.” the guy replies. “You must be the messy roommate.”
Louis can’t help but laugh, his nerves unraveling as he starts breathing again.
“Do me a favor,” he tells him. “Tell Liam I’ll punch him in the face as soon as he’s back. He’ll know why.”
“I can punch him right now if it helps.” Zayn offers.
Louis laughs again, a bit less nervous this time.
“Take a video, please.” he says. “From multiple angles.”
“He’s drunk enough,” Zayn seems to be assessing. “I might get away with-”
“So you do this with just anyone, huh?” a different voice asks him.
Louis knows that voice.
He loves that voice.
But right now, it could very well kill him.
“Hi.” he utters, lying down on the couch.
His limbs are shaking all of a sudden, he needs to lie down.
“I’ll save you the heartbreak,” Harry tells him. “He’s straight.”
He sounds like his usual self.
Louis thought he would hate him, by now.
He covers his eyes with a hand, he tries to even out his breathing.
“Welcome back.” he says. He couldn’t come up with anything better than that.
“What are you up to?”
Louis smiles, somewhat comforted by the lighthearted question.
“Nothing much,” he sighs. “Just chilling.”
The noises are becoming more muffled, until they eventually disappear.
Harry must have stepped outside.
“Are you going to avoid me forever, Lou?”
Oh.
So Louis guesses they’re back to awkward.
“I’m not-”
“Don’t even.” Harry interrupts him.
Fair enough.
“I think so.” he admits.
Harry starts laughing, but it stops just as abruptly as it started.
It’s anger.
“I can’t believe we spent a year talking,” he grits out. “And you’re acting like I don’t even exist now.”
Louis swallows dry.
“Now that I’m here.” Harry adds. “What is this?”
Louis opens his mouth to speak, but he hasn’t got much to say.
He’s got nothing at all.
“Look,” Harry breathes. “I get it if you don’t feel the same way. But you didn’t have to treat me like I’m your worst enemy.”
They never fought before.
They never had a reason to.
They argued a lot, sure, but it was about Louis not eating fruit, or Harry getting a haircut.
Thank God his curls grew back quickly.
“That’s not-” Louis attempts.
That’s it.
Nothing else comes out.
“What is it then?” Harry presses.
He sounds angry and hurt, and Louis doesn’t know how to explain any of it to him.
“I was scared, Harry.”
“Scared of what?”
Louis just managed to string together a full sentence, he doesn’t need Harry to pressure him this way.
“Of seeing you.” Louis says.
Harry’s breathing sounds broken.
“What difference does it make?” he asks him. “You know me already.”
Louis shakes his head in the darkness of the living room.
“I don’t.”
“You fucking do.” Harry insists. “You know my sister’s name.”
Gemma.
“My favorite fruit.”
Mango.
“Who was my first kiss.”
Olivia Wilson, year seven.
“All of my pet hates.”
When people don’t say hello back to him, when his yogurt sticks to the foil, when his socks get wet, when someone calls him sir, when people eat on the tube-
“You know me, Lou.”
“Harry, we only caught feelings ‘cause we spent too much time talking on the phone.” Louis tries to reason with him.
Harry keeps quiet for a few seconds.
“You caught feelings?”
“No.” Louis immediately shoots back. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You just said-”
“I said it wrong.” Louis interrupts him. “I meant we felt close but we weren’t. We’re not far from strangers.”
Ouch.
He never thought something he said could ever result in hurting himself.
And here he is, pushing back the tears that filled his eyes as soon as he said it.
“Strangers?” Harry huffs out.
Louis cannot say anything without risking a nervous breakdown.
“Do you hear yourself?” Harry laughs.
Louis wipes away the tear trickling down his chin, he finally manages to sit up and turn on the lamp.
“You’re wearing Liam’s sweatpants right now,” Harry tells him. “Because your closet is about to burst and you don’t want to think about it.”
Louis lets out a small laugh that tangles with an unexpected sob.
“That proves nothing.”
“You only say you hate the seaside because you almost drowned when you were five,” Harry continues. “And you are scared it’ll happen again.”
Louis wipes a couple more tears away.
He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but it’s raw and terrifying.
“You’re allergic to walnuts and you’re lactose intolerant, too. But you are too stubborn to admit it because you want to have icecream while you watch tv.” Harry keeps going. “And a splash of milk in your tea. No sugar. Three times a day. Four, if you wake up early.”
“Okay, fine.” Louis sighs.
“You made sure the flowers I gave you on your birthday could be seen in the family pictures you posted,” Harry ignores him. “Because you wanted me to know how much you liked that. You wanted me to do it again.”
Louis laughs at himself.
“And you don’t want to see me because you’re scared I’m gonna change my mind.”
Louis gets up from the couch.
He starts pacing back and forth all over the flat.
“I’m scared I’m gonna change my mind, too.” he replies.
“I don’t care, though.” Harry shoots back. “I want to find out.”
“And what if I don’t?” Louis retorts.
“If you don’t, just hang up the phone.” Harry challenges. “Hang up right now and I’ll stop even trying.”
Louis doesn’t want that.
Or maybe he does.
“I don’t know.” he whispers.
Harry lets out a long sigh.
“It was us, Louis.” he says. “The guys laughing on the phone, falling asleep together, counting the seconds until our next call.” he reminds him. “It was me and you.”
Louis stops pacing.
He rests his forehead against the wall, barely able to process half of what they’ve said so far.
“I’m tired of being on the phone,” Harry decides. “I’m gonna hang up, okay?”
Louis bites his lip so hard he almost screams.
“Okay.” he accepts. “Call me back later if you want.”
“No.” Harry states. “I’m done with it.”
Louis’ so confused.
He almost felt like Harry was making sense.
And now-
“Buzz me in.” Harry interrupts his thoughts. “I’m right outside.”
And now there’s no turning back.
He looks just as handsome as the pictures on his social media.
It’s not angles and lighting, no filters.
He’s drop dead fucking gorgeous.
“You’re so tall.” Louis blurts out.
Harry tries to restrain a smile, but his dimples pop out anyway when he licks his lips.
“You have chocolate on your cheek.” he informs him, reaching out and wiping it off with his thumb.
He’s touching him.
“I’m touching you.” Harry realizes, resting his hand over the side of his face. “Liam’s messy roommate-”
“In the flesh.” Louis laughs.
What the hell was he talking about.
He’s so fucking into him. Look at that. Look at him.
“Come in.” he decides, and he’s pulling on his arm before Harry can even register the invitation. “Come here.” Louis says, and then he’s wrapping his arms around him.
He was hugging his pillow and fantasizing about this just yesterday.
But this time it’s for real, and this time he gets to smell him and squeeze him tight.
Harry’s arms feel strong and warm around him, his breathing all shaky as he smells the top of his head.
“All good?” he asks him.
All the anger seems to be gone.
His tone is sweet, almost a whisper.
Louis leans back just so he can look up at him.
Harry’s eyes are incredible.
“You’re a fucking snack.” he tells him. “How did the old lady with the dog resist you?”
Harry laughs at that, his eyes glinting with what looks like affection.
Louis doesn’t have much time to think about it, because Harry’s putting both hands on his cheeks now, pulling him in a bit roughly, a bit impatiently.
And he’s kissing him.
It all goes to shit in a matter of seconds.
Harry pecks his lips a couple times, then he leans back to breathe and Louis’ done with the bullshit.
He pulls him back in and he kisses him again, for real, for good, warm tongues sliding and curling around each other.
He’s already completely run out of breath.
“Fuck me.” he says into his mouth, and Harry’s lifting him up the next second.
They somehow manage to stumble into Louis’ bedroom, between the kisses and the moans, and Harry puts him down just so he can rip his clothes off of him.
Then his mouth is everywhere.
Louis hasn’t had sex in months, he feels like bursting the second Harry’s teeth dig into his neck, and again the moment his tongue licks over the bite, his lips suck on Louis’ hot skin.
Louis’ hands are shaking as he blindly manages to get Harry naked, still stuck between him and the wall, with his tongue in his mouth and his hard cock pressed to his tummy.
He only catches a glimpse of it, before Harry pushes him onto the bed.
That glimpse was enough to have Louis flipping around and holding himself up on all fours.
“You got lube?” Harry pants, both hands squeezing on Louis’ ass.
Louis would ask him to just spit on his hole and get the fuck in, but he’s got one last ounce of decency still clinging to him for dear life.
So he grabs the lube from his nightstand and Harry rips it out of his hold before Louis can even blink.
“Want me to fuck you raw?” Harry asks him, and Jesus Christ, Louis was not ready to hear that.
He automatically starts stroking his own cock, arching up while Harry puts two fingers inside him.
“I’ve been very faithful.” Louis laughs. “Have you?”
Harry puts a hand on the back of his neck to hold him still while he pushes in.
“Always.” he says, and he finally gives him the first thrust.
Louis hisses at the intrusion, but he spreads his legs wider, he goes down until his cheek is pressed to the mattress.
He wants Harry to fuck the shit out of him.
“Are we really fucking?” he hears himself say.
Harry replies with a couple more thrusts, fingers digging deep into Louis’ hips.
“Oh, yes we are.” Louis moans, and that’s about all he manages to say for the next twenty minutes.
Harry never lets go of his hand.
“No one’s gonna steal me away if you let go for a second, you know.” Louis teases him.
Harry puts his sunglasses on with his left hand, he does not let go of him.
“I would,” he informs him. “I would steal you away.”
“Creep.” Louis laughs, letting Harry lead him to a small square.
“Here.” Harry smiles. “You see that building?” he points. “That’s where I used to work.”
Louis looks up at him, and he tries to remember how long it took them to get here from the hotel.
How long it will take them to go back and fuck like bunnies.
“And that’s where I almost got run over that day,” Harry points in the opposite direction. “When you answered the phone.”
Louis pulls him close, he stands on his tiptoes while Harry keeps talking.
“That place makes an incredible tiramisù.”
He never shuts up.
“You know what tiramisù means?”
Louis fucking loves him.
“Kiss me.” he tells him.
Harry bends down and presses their lips together, short and sweet.
“You want some?”
Louis lets out a growly little moan.
“Please.” he murmurs. “Yes.”
He’d put a hand on his crotch if there weren’t so many people around.
How do the Italians feel about public indecency?
“I meant some tiramisù.” Harry clarifies, kissing him once more when Louis glares at him.
“Fine.” Louis rolls his eyes.
“So you don’t want to guess what it means?” Harry asks again.
Louis hasn’t learned a single word of Italian in two years of dating him.
“If it doesn’t mean I’ll take you back to the hotel and fuck you in the arse,” Louis tells him. “I am not interested.”
Harry squeezes on his hand, his laughter makes a few people look at them funny.
“That’s exactly what it means.” he replies.
Oh, well.
Louis might speak some Italian, after all.