Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

JULY/2022

Nicolas was exhausted from the car trip. Looking to his side, where his mother was driving, he noticed that she looked as exhausted as he did. And Alexia was one of those people who enjoyed long trips the most.

Unfortunately, the trip they needed to make to get to Wolves’ Solar was extremely long and tiring. Maybe that was why Nico’s grandfather liked the place so much; it was so far away that the family’s trips became scarce.

The landscape of the trip was so beautiful and green, Nico didn’t find it so boring for the first eight hours in the car, but after fifteen… he felt like passing out and waking up inside his grandfather’s room in the Cabin.

“Do you think he’ll be awake?” Nico tried to talk to his mother, his voice hoarse from lack of use, and the music on the radio only helped with the headache he had been feeling for an hour.

“I don’t know.” She rang her cell phone, and the brightness of the time startled Nico. “It’s already past 7 p.m.; maybe he’s watching some soap opera.”

“Does he really like watching soap operas?”

“Your grandfather loves watching those foreign soap; that’s the time after the afternoon coffe when he sits down to watch them.”

Nico didn’t think he needed to answer his mother; he didn’t have much else to say. He had known Louis since he was a child—the quiet and shy man who let his wife speak for both of them. Nico didn’t know much about his grandfather’s personality; although he loved him very much, there was a limbo in the relationship between grandson and grandfather, precisely because of the distance.

Maybe that was why Nico was on that trip with his mother? Perhaps it was. He wasn’t so sure, but that’s what he told Isaac when they said goodbye on the last day of classes. The truth is that Nicolas knew that Alexia hadn’t visited her father in a long time, since Nico’s aunts had made the last trips to see how the old man was doing.

In the opinion of the three women, it was not good to leave Louis alone for too long; even with the long trip, they always tried to go there to find him, since Louis refused to go back to Toronto. It was either that or leave the man alone, something that none of them had the courage to actually do.

Two more hours in the car, and, finally, they passed through the entrance gates of the Wolves’ Solar Cottage community; a place with houses as old as the Montgomery family. Not that it was a surprise, there were not even a third of the registers of Nico’s father’s ancestors as there were of the Tomlinson family, who helped found that community.

Nicolas and his mother did not take their bags out of the car right away, parking in the circular driveway of the cottage and getting out to knock on Louis’ door. They did not talk, tired of each other’s voices; they did everything in understanding and peaceful silence.

The cottage door opened in a rush, without Alexia having climbed all the entrance stairs and stood next to Nico. The lights outside came on brighter in what had previously been a soft, dim light. Louis greeted them with an open smile and welcoming arms.

“My dears!” He exclaimed happily, his teeth lightly yellowed by time, and his hair disheveled in a whitish fringe. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Dad.” Alexia said much more calmly; she still hadn’t gotten used to her father’s cheerful and talkative spirit, when she had grown up with a quiet and withdrawn Louis all her life. “It’s good to see you too.”

“I hope the trip hasn’t punished you. I heard about a strong storm on one of the highways that leads here.” Louis took his time hugging Alexia, although his daughter had loosened her grip much sooner than he would have liked. 

He had never been a loving father, one for hugs and nicknames; he had never felt like it was his place. However, since he had moved to the cottage and distanced himself from everyone, he had become a much more loving and sentimental person. As he walked over to Nicolas, not giving Alexia time to answer him about the weather, he pulled his grandson into his arms. 

They stayed there for a while, much for Louis than for the other two, who were so tired that they just wanted a shower, some food, and a bed to sleep in; Nicolas could sleep without food, in fact. 

Louis didn't let them go back to the car to get their things, telling them to go in and sit at the table, where a steaming soup was ready for dinner. 

“I just made it; it's cooler today, and thought it would be good after such a tiring trip.” Louis sat at the head of the table, his daughter and grandson following close behind. “Let's have dinner first, and then you can rest on the couch or unpack." 

Nicolas didn't have the strength to tell his grandfather that unpacking, showering, eating, and then resting was a much better post-trip routine than eating and resting. Alexia seemed to have even less strength, as she just served herself and ate without saying many words. 

The truth was that Nico didn't grow up in family environments full of conversation; he was used to this restless silence, which was somehow cozy and suffocating at the same time. There wasn't much to do, compared to Isaac's family, with whom Nicolas spent a lot of time; he was the fish out of water who didn't open his mouth for anything.

Dinner passed in the same silence, despite Louis making a considerable effort to start conversations, which lasted little because of Nico and Alexia.

Even after almost a year without seeing each other, Alexia went to bed earlier than Nicolas, saying goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and a whispered 'I love you'. Louis hugged her once more before doing the same thing to Nico.

Only Nicolas and Louis remained in the spacious living room, decorated in neutral tones of blue and green, with touches of wood in every corner. The house, a two-floor structure with a basement above, was built about 114 years ago after the old Tomlinson Cottage accidentally burned down on Thanksgiving night.

Countless generations of the family have passed through there; countless relatives have lived their last years in those rooms, and other pairs of children have learned to walk on that floor. Nicolas was one of those children, as were Alexia and Louis. He thought that even though he wasn't one of the future elderly people who would die there, Louis wanted to be one of them.

Nicolas spent some school holidays in that “cabin” as they say, accompanied by his grandmother and aunts. He explored every room in the building and even knew the creaking steps on the enormous staircase. That said, he knew much more than the book commissioned to tell the family's story by his great-grandfather, but it was still a work that he was immensely curious about.

In one of the unpretentious conversations he had with Isaac, his best friend from college, Nicolas told him about the cabin and the book. He told him about the curiosity he had about the book. Louis and Amélie's presence in the book was almost non-existent, since the work did not actually tell about their marriage, but stopped early when Louis was still a young adult of 20 years old.

In this sense, Nicolas wanted to talk; he had many questions to ask his grandfather. What he didn't have, however, was courage.

In recent years, since he had grown significantly closer to Isaac and his family, Nicolas wanted to understand his family and the loneliness that plagued all family relationships within it. He wanted to know, above all, why Louis became a different person after the death of Amélie, his longtime wife.

Of course, for selfish reasons, Nicolas also wanted to vent to his grandfather about things he could never, ever do to his own mother. He hoped that during this short visit he would be able to talk to his grandfather, even if it didn't change anything or if he had a bucket of cold water thrown over him.

Hope was a very beautiful feeling for young romantics, but a deadly poison for the dreamer entangled in a web of thorns. That's how Nico felt.

Sighing with a couple of women in the soap opera, Louis seemed anxious for what was about to happen in the next scenes, especially with the couple. It was because of his grandfather's reaction that Nicolas felt more comfortable talking about his insecurities and learning more about his grandfather.

Feeling a little bad about interrupting his grandson and grandfather's unexpected movie night, Nicolas cleared his throat and nudged his grandfather lightly.

“How are you, son? Do you need anything?” Louis asked thoughtfully, blue eyes so clear they looked gray, fingers wrinkled with the soft touch of someone who spent years working inside an office.

“Nothing much, grandpa.” He assured calmly, seeing his grandfather’s expression calm down. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh!” Louis let it out between his lips, unexpectedly, as if he had been caught off guard. Which, come to think of it, must be the case. How many people stopped Louis to say that they wanted to talk to him, to actually talk to him? "Of course! Why not, right?”

"Yes." Nicolas had to take a deep breath as his grandfather paused the television on a blurred scene of the couple. “Sorry for interrupting your soap.”

“No problem!” Louis dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “This is the third time I’ve watched this drama; I know exactly what’s going to happen.”

“Ah, you seemed so enthusiastic about them that I thought…”

“I’m really excited, son. It’s the sentimentalist in me.” Louis laughed melodiously; the tone of his voice was always calm; he spoke as if he were singing. “But tell me right away, what do you want to talk about?”

“About you.” Nicolas said it clearly; he didn't think he needed to beat around the bush to get to what he wanted so much. Know about his grandfather's loneliness.

“About me? Ok." Louis laughed again, softly, bringing his hand to his mouth. He looked young sometimes and had a vivacious glow that Nicolas couldn't tell if was there when he was a child. “I need more than that, Nico. Tell me what you want to know about me; I'm 67 years old, after all.”

“I have a friend who is studying History in college; he's incredibly talented, and I'm sure he'd love to meet you.” Nicolas began introducing himself, thinking about the excuse he'd come up with so that everything would go as expected. “He's doing a project on companies that helped fight AIDS in the last century. To do so, he's using Oral History, which is basically interviewing people and using their testimonies as a historical source to analyze that period and the actions of those companies.”

“Wow, that's incredible!” Louis exclaimed, turning his entire body toward his grandson, adjusting the pillows behind him and getting more comfortable. “He wants to know about Tomlinson's Traveling? It's not exactly a traditional company to research that.”

“Yes, I understand.” Nicolas bit his lip nervously, but Louis seemed so calm and curious to know more that he couldn't help himself from continuing. “But we saw that Tomlinson's Traveling was one of the main companies donating to the fight against AIDS during the 80s and 90s. It even reached the Latin American countries with the highest rates of infected people.”

“That's true.” Louis taps his fingers on his leg thoughtfully. “When I took over the company, the number of infected people was at its peak, so I made sure to help in any way I could.”

“He just wants to hear from you about it, to understand why you decided to invest in treating these people when prejudice was so strong and stigmatized, especially among large corporations, and they would expect the opposite of you.”

Louis took a while to respond, clearly considering the proposal Nicolas was making. Isaac's project wasn't a lie; it was actually a very big piece of work that his professors praised every chance they got, talking about the importance of research like this with the methodology Isaac proposed.

“I wouldn't mind talking to him, son. I think it would be a great opportunity to talk more about this too; going back to that period is very important, it's quite underrated.” 

Louis sighed, looking at the vinyl records that were on the shelf above the television. Nico didn't listen to those records very often, because Louis never put them on, but they were the ones he always remembered when he thought about his grandfather's musical taste. 

“But how would we do it? I don't want to go back to the city and I think the trip would be very exhausting for him.” 

“Don’t worry, grandpa!” Nicolas sighed happily, opening an excited smile. “Isaac once told me that part of his family has a house here in Wolves' Solar, he could spend some time here without any problems.”

“Really?” Suddenly, Louis' posture stiffened clearly, so much so that Nico could notice the difference in seconds. Louis looked more serious, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together, eyes far away from the vinyl records and Nicolas. “Did he tell you the family's last name?” 

“Unfortunately not, Grandpa.” Nico let his lips pull down, sad that he couldn’t remember Isaac’s mother’s last name.

“Okay, Nico. If he mentions it again, tell me. It’ll be nice to know who his grandfather is.” Louis smiled again, but much more restrained. “Nowadays, there are only old people in this cottage, there aren’t many adults in their 30s and 40s, it’ll be easy to know who he’s related to.”

“Grandpa, I also wanted to talk to you about something else…” Nicolas tried hesitantly, realizing that his grandfather wasn’t as open as he was before to the conversation.

“Go ahead, but I’m a little sleepy, we might have to leave it for tomorrow.”

“I wanted to talk about your youth here in Wolves’ Solar, about what it was like meeting Grandma and everything, but before that, too…”

If this were a cartoon, melodramatic music would start playing in the background and the colors of the painting would fade with Nicolas’ question. However, since this was real life, these graphic changes were only in Nico's feelings, who saw his grandfather swallow hard and shake his head.

“We can talk about this more calmly tomorrow.” Louis said it in a more serious and final tone, like when he talks to one of his corporate partners. “I've spent many years here, we'll probably talk about it for days.”

“It's okay, grandpa. It's just something I'm curious about… to understand our family too.”

“Yeah… I think a lot of our family dynamics are justified by those years.” He laughed deprecatingly, as if it were a bad joke. Nicolas suspected that was the reason, but he didn't expect Louis to be so honest about it right away.

“We can talk about it tomorrow.” Nicolas decided that was enough for the first night. “It's just that I have some things going on with me and…”

Louis looked at him intently, something that unsettled Nicolas inside, because it seemed like his grandfather could see all the feelings his grandson had been repressing over the last few months.

Wow! How difficult it was to open up to someone.

“It’s okay, Nico.” Louis came closer, resting a hand on Nicolas’ knee, and the pressure there was comforting in some way, for the youngest. “Tomorrow we will talk about these conflicts of yours and about my boring youth.”

Nicolas laughed, feeling his grandfather's thin arms around him. It had a unique smell of flowers and cookies, something Nico had always associated with his grandmother.

Apparently, he had already started to discover misunderstandings from the past. It was always Louis who kept that smell around the house, so…

Louis got up from the couch after leaving a kiss on his grandson's forehead and reached for his cane, which he sometimes needed after a long day of moving around, saying goodbye with a brief "Good night, son. I love you, I'm so glad you came.”

Nico remained in the room until after Louis closed the bedroom door and turned off the main light in the stairwell, leaving only the dim light and support. Looking at the couple of women in love on television, he reflected.

Before Isaac said anything about interviewing Louis' grandfather and the financial support Tomlinson's Traveling provided to AIDS sufferers in America, Nicolas never imagined his grandfather would be such a vocal voice on the matter. Or that he cared about it anyway.

By the end of the night, he realized he knew little about who Louis William Tomlinson was. Especially when it came to the person beyond the Tomlinson company, the grandfather with a grandson, the father of three daughters, and the surprisingly happy widower.

Louis William Tomlinson, who were you before all this?

DECEMBER/1975

Wolves’ Solar was the largest forested community Louis had ever seen. It was certainly written in the sales and rental contract that one of the main objectives of the condominium was to preserve its fauna and flora, which made it clear that hunting and local deforestation were prohibited.

In fact, Louis felt an overwhelming pride in his ancestors when he remembered that this specific clause of the contract was written because of the love that one of his great-grandmothers had for nature. It sounded self-centered, but he grew up in a considerably self-centered family.

It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that he would have these thoughts when passing through the gates of the condominium. Likewise, it was impossible not to think about the past when he was among those trees, listening to the howls of the wolves that lived there.

Louis's father, William, had been driving for a few hours and was softly humming along to the classical music on the radio. The mother and brother were completely asleep in their seats, and Louis was the only one who was enjoying the landscape as a way of relaxing. He didn't really know what to talk about with his father, and he didn't want to start a trivial subject just to fill the silence.

It was the winter holidays, close to Christmas, and it could start snowing at any moment. Louis, being a child of winter, was obsessed with the freezing weather and the white scenery, the cold wind that made every hair on his body stand on end and made hot chocolate seem like the best drink in the world. To say he was looking forward to this vacation would be an understatement. Louis was almost bursting with anticipation for the days to pass, his birthday to arrive, and the celebrations to finally take place.

All of this also implied a break from college. A much-deserved and long-awaited break after months of stress and nights of scant sleep. Louis was in business school in Toronto, following in his father's footsteps to take over Tomlinson's Traveling. Louis had barely started college, and already had to hear incessantly about postgraduate courses, whether he would follow this or that area. It was really stressful, and no one seemed to understand.

The car parked, and everyone was responsible for taking out their bags and starting to organize things in their pre-established rooms. Louis' grandparents were only arriving around the 24th and William's uncles, brothers, would only arrive the following day. This symbolized the total freedom of choice of a room between Louis and Vincent, the older brother.

“Shut your mouth to the dust, man!” Vincent whispered in Louis' ear before rushing off with his bags, up the front stairs in a jet that, unfortunately, Louis wasn't fast enough to follow.

Mathilde, the boys' mother, was quick to reprimand her eldest son's childish attitude, but William just laughed and shook his head, in a clear sign of unconcern with the boy's behavior. Louis sighed tiredly, feeling his limbs aching from the long car ride and the worrying feeling of nausea that had been intensifying over the past few hours.

“I think I’m going to need some meds, Mom.”

“Oh, baby!” Mathilde approached, leaving her hand luggage on the table in the entrance hall, taking Louis' face in her soft, caring hands. “Are you nauseous? I'll prepare some light food for us, we're probably dehydrated too.”

“Maybe then… I’ll take some time for myself right now.”

“Go take a shower, Louis.” William said it in a serious and fatherly way. Louis looked at him in silence as his father brought both his own bags and his wife's. “This way you will rest too, but be careful with the hot steam, so your blood pressure doesn’t drop.”

“That’s it, Louis!” Mathilde quickly agreed, gently stroking her youngest son's straight hair. “Go there while your father and I get everything ready. Tell Vincent that I will make us a snack and that he should take a shower too.”

Without many words other than a soft nod and a kiss on the cheek, Louis picked up his suitcase and walked upstairs to the third room on the left. It was his favorite room to stay in, even though Vincent insisted that the room he usually stayed in was the best and that Louis was jealous of it.

The bath was relaxing and, as if by magic, he felt his entire body switch off and his mind wander with the smell of the hot steam from the water. In the state of physical and mental peace he found himself in, he almost fell asleep in the bathtub, being awakened by the thunderous knocks and Vincent's laughing voice.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!” He chuckled at the nickname, Louis could see his brother's mischievous smile.

Vincent, despite being two years older than Louis, was much more childish than he was. The responsibility of the company was always destined to fall into Louis' hands, for some reason he didn't quite understand, but Vincent didn't seem bitter about it. On the contrary, it was obvious to everyone that bohemianism suited the lifestyle that the older man enjoyed very well.

Louis was following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, second sons who inherited the company instead of their older brothers. If you asked Louis what he really thought about it, well… He thought it was total bullshit.

The snack for dinner was prepared with care, with beautiful decoration and platters placed on the table, natural bottled juice positioned perfectly next to the patriarch, addicted to the drink. Mathilde, like an incredible housewife, wore a characteristic smile on her face and waited for all the men to sit down before starting to put the food on her husband's plate.

Surprising everyone, it was William who started talking about the mood they would maintain at dinner. Not at all common, considering he was the most enthusiastic about the comfortable silence.

“I contacted the Riccis and the Alcaldes, it seems they will be arriving soon too.”

“Oh! How wonderful!” Mathilde celebrated, giving the plate to her husband and starting to put food for herself. Louis took the cue to prepare his dish. “I miss Cosima and Giulia so much, you know how pleasant they are to be around.”

“Edgar said they’ll arrive tomorrow before lunch, they’ll stop by here late afternoon for coffee.”

“Will Francesca come?” Louis asked before taking a bite of the bruschetta his mother had prepared. “I didn’t get to talk to her before we left for the trip.”

“Looks like the whole family is coming.” William said, giving his youngest son a long look. Vincent let out a small chuckle beside his brother.

“Don’t laugh, Vince.” Mathilde scolded, giving her youngest son a wide smile. “Are you looking forward to seeing her, Lou?”

Louis didn't answer right away, chewing his toast and taking a long sip of juice.

Of course, she missed her best friend. They spent a lot of time talking on the phone, when they were both available and the line could stay connected longer, but they exchanged extensive letters during school hours. After all, Francesca studied at the University of British Columbia and Louis at the University of Toronto, they were very far apart, and practically never had the opportunity to see each other.

However, what made Louis uncomfortable about the conversation that was beginning at the dinner table was another matter. He felt his skin crawl, and the food fell heavily into his stomach, the juice was more sour than sweet in the sip he took.

Francesca was a very dear and beloved friend, with exorbitant beauty and dark, heavy hair, always tied in a braid made by her mother. A beautiful woman, two years older than Louis, with an infectious laugh, tanned skin and strong arms. Louis wouldn't say he didn't find her attractive.

Just… he couldn't say that was attracted to her like both friends' parents dreamed would happen one day.

And that was the question that made every conversation about Francesca with William and Mathilde absurdly awkward and uncomfortable.

It was an unrealistic and tireless dream that the two adults had that one day, in the near or distant future, Louis would fall in love with Francesca. Or vice versa.

"Obviously! I haven't seen her for a long time. It must be two years since she last visited Wolves’ Solar.” He conceded lightly, voice restrained and not as excited as he felt about Francesca's visit. Giving his parents ammunition was the worst thing Louis could do.

“But do you know what I learned?” Vincent said, like a spark near gunpowder. Louis muttered a ‘what?’ and waited for the answer, which made William and Mathilde’s eyes widen. “She’s coming with a boyfriend!”

A terrifying silence followed the table.

William would probably regret having started any conversation between the family, silence would have been much better.

Mathilde looked as if her heart had been broken in half, as if they had just heard the news of the death of a loved one. Or worse, the divorce of a beloved daughter-in-law.

“How can this be?” She whispered as the bruschetta fell onto her plate.

“Rumor has it that she’s started dating the son of a promising chef in Vancouver. You know how these Italians are… Her parents are enchanted by the guy’s smooth talk.” With a roll of his eyes and a disbelieving chuckle, Vincent went back to drinking his wine and left his parents with this information.

What the hell! Louis had no idea that Francesca would take such an adventure so soon. Both friends knew very well that Vincent had a crush on her, nothing to worry about, but that Louis thought she would end up coming back at some point.

Louis and Francesca's parents would have liked them to fall in love, not Francesca and Vincent, but Louis didn't feel that kind of affection for his friend. 

He didn't say anything else during the improvised dinner, knowing that there was nothing he could contribute. Louis wouldn't start a small talk just to cover the silence. 

At the end of it all, he washed the dirty dishes and went up to his room with a goodbye kiss to his mother and whispered words to his father and brother. No one would talk about Francesca again that day. 

Louis was curious to know who her boyfriend was. He knew his friend very well, and, after hearing her talk incessantly about her ideal boyfriend, he knew that the suitor would be nothing short of wonderful. 

He went to sleep peacefully and with a full belly, his suitcase more than half empty, and his blanket safely wrapped around his pillow for a good night's sleep. 

No dreams tormented his rest. 

xx

Two days later, Louis was walking with one of his cousins ​​to the small shopping center of Wolves Solar, and saw Francesca's long, dark hair covered in fragile snowflakes.

They were walking towards each other, which excited Louis about the prospect of greeting his friend. However, he felt nervous when he recognized someone else beside Francesca.

There he was, her boyfriend!

With his long, curly, dark brown hair, a defined chin and a loud laugh, it didn't take long for Louis to realize that they must be the perfect couple.

They walked arm in arm, wrapped in dark, matching clothes. Francesca was a tall woman, with full breasts, strong arms and hips 'made for children', as the older women always pointed out when they saw her. It was difficult for a man to reach her height.

However, next to her walked this equally tall man, almost as tall as her in his noisy heels, with his broad shoulders and his chin held high as if he owned the world. Together, they walked like a king and queen.

Louis felt, unexpectedly, very unprepared to meet Francesca and her new boyfriend. She was two years older than him, and most likely her boyfriend was too. During many moments of their friendship, Louis felt inferior to her, although he would never dream of saying it out loud.

Seriously considering avoiding the couple and taking a longer route to the cottage, Louis didn't have time to tell Marieta about his plans. His cousin was already waving and calling for Francesca, even with Louis's strong grip on her wrist.

"Louis! Let's go say hello to her, of course!" Marieta complained when Louis whispered that he didn't want to go. It was already late, anyway, and Francesca was walking quickly towards them with her perfect boyfriend.

"My God!" She exclaimed, pulling Louis into her arms. Up close, the height difference between them became even more obvious. “I missed you so much, Louis William!”

Louis laughed comfortably, returning the hug as emotionally as her voice sounded. Despite his nervousness, he couldn’t deny that his best friend’s physical absence caused him serious disappointment.

“I was so happy to know you were here.” He whispered softly for her to hear.

“I sent a letter letting you know I was coming! But I don’t think it arrived in time.” She lamented when they pulled away. They both kept their hands clasped and looked at each other like two siblings who hadn’t seen each other in years.

And the situation couldn’t have been more appropriate.

Louis would have stayed there at that moment for an eternity if it hadn’t been for Marieta’s clearing of her throat and her measured voice, interrupting the reunion of friends.

“Francesca, my dear.” Marieta began amiably. “You look beautiful! Mom mentioned that you came to the Solar with someone, but you know how gossip goes…”

“Oh yes!” Francesca turned to her boyfriend, who was watching the entire interaction with a soft smile on his face and his hands in the front pockets of his pants. Up close, Louis could admit in his mind that he was indeed a very handsome man. On par with Francesca, in fact. “This is my boyfriend, Harry Styles.”

“Nice to meet you.” Harry commented cordially, stretching his hands out to Marieta and leaving a delicate kiss on the girl’s glove.

“This is Marieta Tomlinson, and this is my best friend, Louis, who I’ve talked about so much.” Francesca sounded excited.

Louis reached out for a standard handshake, and Harry met him in the middle.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Louis.” Harry replied in a tone that set off all the alarm bells inside Louis. Something about the way he pronounced the name, in his French accent, highlighting the i… Or maybe it was the strong and long grip…

Louis didn’t know.

He replied with a soft “likewise” and released his hand, tucking it inside his heavy winter coat.

Marieta took part in the conversation, being much more talkative than her cousin.

They spent a few brief minutes in that polite and punctual conversation. It was only used for daily updates about the Riccis' arrival at Wolves Solar and how long they would be there.

Fortunately, Francesca would stay until after the New Year, which would allow her to attend Louis' birthday and the Alcalde's New Year's party.

They said goodbye with another long hug, Francesca promising to see him the next day for lunch at the gazebo. Louis confirmed the time.

The walk back home was silent on Louis' part, while Marieta chatted about the little meeting they had.

The ones who were happy to know the details of such a meeting were Mathilde and Judy, Marieta's mother. They listened to the girl talk and talk and talk tirelessly about every detail of Harry Styles and how Francesca Ricci looked next to him.

Half an hour into the conversation, Louis excused himself to go read on the cottage's porch.

Firstly, he went up to the mansion's mini library in search of the book that had been gathering dust on the shelves for a long time. Helena, by Machado de Assis, was given to Louis' grandparents many years ago, before he was even born. He knew this information only because it was written on the back cover of the book, in the elaborate handwriting and signature of a friend of his grandmother's who had already passed away.

He couldn't quite explain what caught his attention in the book, but he had heard a lot about this Brazilian author and thought about giving one of his works a chance.

Despite everything, Louis was a fanatical reader, a lover of romance and suspense, especially when taboo subjects could be discussed in the narrative. Perhaps that was what caught his attention in Helena. The prospect of a forbidden and painful romance, burdened with unparalleled guilt.

He picked up the novel and another random accounting book, just in case his father or uncle appeared nearby and didn't catch him reading a novel, considered to be women's reading. It was hard to try to contradict his father's closed mind, so Louis didn't even try, he preferred to keep his peace rather than prove himself right to the head of the house. 

He made himself comfortable in one of the rocking chairs on the porch that overlooked the forest and, much further away, the lake. He opened Helena and began his silent reading session, forgetting everything around him and everything that had happened earlier that day. 

What mattered most was getting to know these new characters, this new writing, and understanding where this novel would take him. 

Later that same evening, an unexpected visitor knocked on the Tomlinsons' door. It was the dear and elegant Cosima Ricci, dressed in her red winter clothes and her thick hair tied in a high bun, and she was greeted by Mathilde with a cheerful and welcoming smile. 

Behind Cosima came Francesca and Harry, holding a plate of savory snacks and another of sweets. "Oh no!" Mathilde exclaimed, faking annoyance, holding her long-time friend's arm. "You didn't need to bring anything, my friend! I was preparing a dessert for Louis to bring to you later.”

“It’s a good thing, then, that I arrived early and we can talk while your dessert is finished and we eat the one I made.” Cosima laughed amusingly, there was no reason to feel bad about the lack of communication there, she always prepared food for close family friends, and Mathilde should be used to that.

“It’s so good to see you.” Mathilde said again, taking the plate of savory snacks from Francesca’s hands and walking to the kitchen. “And to meet the young man. I’ve heard great news about our girl’s new boyfriend.”

Harry laughed with a red face, leaving the dessert on the table where Mathilde placed the savory snack. While the woman hugged Francesca with her free arms, Cosima approached Harry and put an arm around her son-in-law.

“Fran said that they met Louis and Marieta on the way to the mall. I imagined that Marieta had already talked to you.” Cosima commented, They were all used to news running wild among those trees, nothing was to be kept a secret. “This is Harry, then, my dear son-in-law.”

Louis heard the doorbell ring and his mother's excited greetings with Cosima, Francesca, and Harry, but he remained outside on the porch, not wanting to be ushered into yet another round of greetings and salutations. He was tired, and used to take a nap in the late afternoon. While the sun was resting, he marked the last page he read and closed his eyes, slowly falling into a sweet sleep right there on the porch.

The doorbell was what woke Louis from his calm, he took a sip of the still-cold water and was startled by the temperature of his hand. He only decided to leave his comfort zone when he heard Mathilde direct Fran and Harry to the living room while their mothers stayed in the kitchen.

Maybe it was time for Louis to socialize a little more with his friend and her boyfriend, to get to know more about this young man who was accompanying someone as brilliant as Francesca. And he'd better go soon, before Marieta arrived and monopolized all the attention of the conversation.

He went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and wash away the sleepy breath, only to find the newest couple talking quietly next to the Christmas tree.

"Goodnight." He greeted shyly, feeling more than awkward for interrupting their intimate moment.

“Hi, Louis!” Francesca's face lit up with a huge smile. Louis walked over to sit in his father's armchair, next to the two of them.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming here.” He left the books on the side table, barely hiding the novel beneath the ledger. “If not, I would have prepared something for us to eat.”

“Don’t worry, friend.” Francesca reassured him. “We didn’t know we were coming either.”

“Cosima decided to make some dishes to bring here.” Harry added calmly. He had a very particular way of speaking, different from the heavy accents of the Riccis and Tomlinsons, but it seemed to travel as it left his lips. “We decided it would be a good opportunity to get to know each other better.”

Louis didn't really know what to say; he was not used to direct speech and clear intentions. He had learned very young that the best thing to do is to always circulate true intentions and make them sound like a great coincidence. It seemed like Harry didn't have that.

Francesca let out a hearty laugh, probably understanding Louis' surprise in his raised eyebrows. “Get used to it, baby blue. Harry is like that, he doesn't mince his words.”

Louis tried to let out a carefree laugh, but he failed and had to cough to cover it up, probably blushing. "No problem. I also need to know who the guy who managed to win my best friend's heart is.”

“Oh, Lou, you don’t know the half of it!” Fran settled herself between the cushions, bringing her legs up onto the couch and laying her head on Harry's shoulder.

Louis' father and uncle went out to play pool and smoke with other friends at the Solar bar. Louis' cousins ​​and brother also had their own plans with friends. Only, he had declined the invitations before, saying he would stay with his mother that night.

It looks like he would also be spending time with friends. Making new connections.

He listened to every detail Francesca and Harry had to tell about how their beautiful relationship began, in an underground Vancouver bar that Francesca's parents could never have dreamed she frequented.

Then the details of their first meetings—the passionate looks, the caresses, the instant connection that made them joke about being soulmates. Louis, who was a hopeless romantic at heart, was delighted that his best friend had found someone so devoted, who seemed to understand her so well.

She was so happy that she no longer thought about how incredibly handsome Harry was, how he had a delightful voice to listen to, and how he had the funniest laugh. There was no time for Louis to start entertaining those strange thoughts he sometimes felt about other men and convince himself they were admiration.

Not that he needed to be convinced! It was, in fact, an admiration.

Louis was a person who was easily fascinated, so that must have been all he felt when he looked at Harry that night, hugging Francesca.

Admiration.

JULY/2022

In the two days following Nicolas and Alexia's first night at Wolves Solar, Louis hadn’t mentioned the short conversation he had with his grandson. And this was bothering Nicolas. 

He would only be there for about 20 days and wanted to get that weight off his chest, to admit to someone in the family a feeling he had been harboring with great guilt and fear. 

It wasn't easy to like a man, especially coming from a home so deeply rooted in Catholicism and Prejudice. 

Nicolas' grandmother, a serious and fervent woman named Amélie, raised her three daughters in the Catholic doctrine that had been taught to her. And she encouraged each of her daughters to pass on this same doctrine to their children. 

Nico completed all four Catholic sacraments that were possible. He was baptized in a grand ceremony, and finished his catechism with confession, the Eucharist and then Confirmation. All that was left for him to do was get married, which his grandmother would never be able to witness. 

However, he grew up as she wanted and dreamed, with the teachings of a religion that always oppressed those Nicolas had been slowly identifying as one. After all, dreaming about his best friend's full, red lips were far from being heterosexual thoughts. Even though he considers it sacred, in some ways.

Amélie always showed her disgust for homosexuals, her immeasurable and almost dangerous contempt for bisexuals, and she genuinely left places where a transgender person was close to her. This was Nicolas' grandmother, who put him to bed and prepared the sweets he loved most at Christmas, bought him the most expensive gifts whenever she missed him, and helped at the church's community center religiously.

Nicolas always thought she was a wonderful and loving person, loved by the community in which they lived in Toronto, since she received countless wreaths of flowers and tears at the two-day wake. However, the more he spent time with the LGBTQ+ community in Toronto, the more Nico realized that some of his grandmother's 'normal' attitudes were inconceivable.

It was only when Isaac told him that Tomlinson's Traveling helped people infected with AIDS that he began to find some things about his family strange.

It wasn't as if his mother was very different from his grandmother, although more tolerant, she was a very closed and prejudiced person. Nico’s aunts were considerably more open to discussing social causes, but they had their own problems.

The issue that made Nicolas sleep stressed at night was precisely his grandfather, Louis.

How could a man who helped countless pro-LGBT causes and was against the prejudice of the community have married such an openly homophobic person and allowed him to be raised with this same closed mind?

It was thinking about this that Nicolas began to feel hopeful that Louis could be more open-minded about what he was feeling than his mother and aunts. Louis had always had a harder time getting along with Amélie's friends, perhaps he didn't agree with their thinking.

There were probably many things that crossed Nicolas' mind whenever he thought about this subject, but it was impossible not to. He wanted to open up to someone in his family, to receive a warm hug from a relative, and to hear comforting words from someone who had seen him grow up and been part of this process.

Above all, he wanted to hear that he was not a freak, he wanted to be assured that he would be loved and cared for even if he liked someone just like him.

He wanted to feel normal, to be treated like a normal person, even though the truth was that he was stupidly in love with his best friend, the man with dark curls and almond-shaped green eyes.

On the morning of the third day, his agony was over, Louis invited him for a walk on the lake.

They prepared some snacks for an improvised picnic. Louis made a natural orange juice with lots of ice and baked a brownie that spent the whole lunch getting cold. At the end of the afternoon, the two went out together to the lake at Wolves' Solar.

Alexia preferred to stay in the cottage reading a book — which was the excuse Nicolas' mother used when she wanted no one to know that she was pestering her younger sister about company matters. Louis didn't end the strange family cycle; his second daughter took over the company, with the help of her sisters.

Grandfather and grandson walked calmly to the lake, where they chose a place with the most trimmed and dry grass to sit. A light drizzle had fallen in the early morning, which made the ground wet in the morning and the flowers lovely.

"Are you enjoying your vacation, son?" Louis asked amiably, taking the snacks out of the basket they had organized and placing them on a checkered sheet. Louis could easily remember his childhood and his older brother, who had already passed away.

"So far, everything has been very calm. I've already read almost a whole book." Nico joined in the conversation, filling two glasses with the cold juice. "Your records are catching my attention, I'm not going to lie."

"Oh! How great!" Louis exclaimed, accepting the glass and giving a small toast with his grandson's. "You know you can always grab one of them to listen to, I'm the first one to want to hear good music."

"I just don't know which one! They all seem like good options, you have a vast collection.”

“You know, son, when I was younger, I asked for records as gifts on every special occasion.” The two laughed quietly. Nico couldn't help but imagine a much younger Louis eager to open a package in the perfect shape of a flat painting. “My father thought it was a very strange hobby, but Mom loved listening to them with me.”

“Were you very close to them?” Nico was very young when his great-grandparents passed away, a year apart from each other. Little will remain of the old and beautiful Tomlinson family besides Nico, Alexia, Nicolas' aunts, and some more distant cousins.

“Quite.” Louis sipped his juice, raising his eyebrows as if remembering something important. “We're going to talk about my youth, really! I had forgotten.”

Nico smiled at his grandfather, who was already quite accustomed to the usual memory lapses.

“Only if you're okay to talk about it. I don't want to cause any inconvenience.”

“Oh no, son. There's no harm in remembering my past.” He split a sandwich in two and took a bite into the first half. Nico waited patiently, already understanding that the picnic would be long and fruitful. “Ask me a question, I'll answer it as best I can.”

“Okay…” Nico stopped to think about something, also taking a piece of brownie and chewing slowly. He had spent days thinking about this meeting, and, now that it was happening, he didn't know how to formulate his questions. “Isaac will ask more elaborate and formal questions, I just want to know about your personal life.”

“I know, my dear.” Louis seemed much calmer than the first time he and his grandson talked about this possible meeting. “I took a few days to have this conversation, I prepared myself mentally for anything you might ask me. I’m gonna rock!”

Nico laughed spontaneously, excited by the prospect that shone before his eyes. What would he find out about Louis?

“Were you and your family like ours?”

“My family is also yours, Nicolas.” Louis smiled mischievously, as if he would make Nicolas work for smart questions and dedicated answers.

“Ugh!” Nico grumbled and looked up at the sky, hiding a smile. “You, your parents, brother, uncles…” Louis just raised his eyebrows in expectation. “Were you lively, talkative, funny, artistic… Or were you quiet, systematic, solitary like mom and my aunts?”

“We were somewhere in between.” Louis answered sincerely, taking a deep breath to have enough breath for a complete answer. “Lively on special occasions, we talked about our favorite subjects only, were quiet most of the time, and enjoyed our alone time. Everyone was very systematic, but loving in their own way. Our family is not that loving…”

“Not even close.” Nico sighed sadly. He already knew that Louis would grow up in a much more satisfying environment than the modern Tomlinson family. “Mom and Dad are very quiet, traditional. The aunts aren’t that close to me, and the company is all that unites this family. The company and you.”

“You know, Nico… It hurts me that we are like this. I grew up in a loving family, although oppressive in its ways. I never felt lonely, until a certain age.” Louis’s crystal-clear eyes looked at Nicolas but seemed to go back to the past, clouded with memories.

“Has this environment ever changed?”

“It has. Drastically, it has changed.” Louis exhaled heavily, taking Nicolas’ hand and squeezing it tightly. “There are things I don’t feel comfortable talking about today, maybe not tomorrow or the day after. But these things have had a profound impact on my family environment, the family you have today is a consequence of that, unfortunately.”

“Is it a very bad thing, Grandpa?” Nicolas began to feel concern in his heart. What could have made young Louis end the love and companionship of the Tomlinson family and, in a way, condemn Nicolas with this frigidity?

“No.” Louis smiled slightly, wrinkles from aging appearing in the corners of his eyes, lips, and neck. “It was a very beautiful thing, just wrong.”

“Was Grandma to blame for this?” Nicolas asked, confused, not understanding the almost loving smile that appeared on his grandfather’s face. He didn’t exactly notice the slight changes in Louis’ expression when he heard Amélie mentioned.

“Oh, Nico… We’re all guilty of something in this life. No one is a saint, I have my sins, just like your grandmother.” Louis patted Nicolas’ hand twice, picked up the glass of juice, and took a long sip. “Amélie is also a Consequence, at the same time as she is a Cause.”

“How enigmatic you are today, Mr. Tomlinson!” Nicolas tried to joke, poking his grandfather in the ribs, who laughed and dodged.

“I like to be dramatic, my son. I watch a lot of soap operas, read a lot of novels, and feel like I’m taking part in one.” He lazily adjusted his bangs, a gentle wind passing through them, threatening future rain. “I’m going to be melodramatic, I’m sorry to inform you.”

“It’s okay, Grandpa.” Nico tried to put aside the doubts that were growing in his head with the drastic change in the surrounding air. “What was great uncle Vincent like? I was really sad when he died.”

“Oh, Vincent… My older brother, dear and mischievous. He was like a snake 98% of the time, you could never trust what he said, because he was always playing tricks.”

Louis bit his lips and shook his head. “But he was an excellent gossip, so there was that 2%, you know.” He laughed happily.

“Did you fall for his pranks a lot?” He asked between bites. “I don’t know how having a brother works.”

“I always told your mother that it was good for you to have a brother, to have a life partner like that, you know. The connection between brothers is unique.” Louis smiled ruefully at his grandson, as if he was sorry for something that was beyond his reach. “I always knew when Vince was lying, he had a nervous tic, and his ear would move whenever he lied.”

“Isaac has that habit too!” Nico exclaimed in surprise, louder than he thought he would be, making even Louis' eyes widen. They both laughed amusingly. "But he has long hair, so it's hard to notice." 

"And how will you notice?" Louis' question was casual, curious, and intended to continue the conversation and not to reinforce a questioning between the two. 

But Nicolas felt cornered by the question. Like a deer in front of the headlights of a speeding car. 

Caught off guard, he took a huge bite of the sandwich and chewed as slowly as he could. Louis remained silent, waiting for an answer without knowing how nervous his grandson was. 

"He and I are very close. Isaac also had short hair when we started our friendship." He managed to answer, a little breathless and blushing. He saw how Louis' eyes narrowed at him. 

"Hm… Tell me about your friendship with him, you're not one to make suspense about your friends. I remember many brats invading my indoor pool in the winter.”

“Well, you know he’s studying History… He wants to be a historian, but he likes the journalism part too. He’s not sure what he’ll do in the distant future.” Nico bit his lip, afraid. He could open up to his grandfather, talk about the excessive appreciation for his best friend. Or he could drag it out a little longer… “We met at a college party, a bonfire night with live music. A local band was playing when he spilled his drink on me, and stained my clothes.”

“Ouch!” Louis grimaced. “What a shame, son. He apologized, I assume.”

“Obviously.” Nico smiled fondly, fondly remembering the first time he looked at Isaac, already quite drunk and starting to feel the effects of marijuana. He clearly remembers feeling a warmth in his chest when his eyes met Isaac’s, and it had nothing to do with the beer sticking to his back. “Isaac apologized profusely, even lent me the flannel he was wearing. We spent the night talking and have been inseparable ever since.”

“How wonderful to know that you have such a genuine friendship.” Louis felt a clear affection when he saw the affection Nico expressed, without knowing it, when talking about his friend. “He must be someone very special.”

“He is…” Nico took a deep breath, looked at his grandfather, and held his tongue for a few seconds before letting out the words that made his heart ache. “Very special. A great love in my life.”

“Oh.” Louis looked at him with wide eyes, as if caught off guard by his grandson’s words. “What do you mean, my son?”

“He just understands me, like no one else can.” He explained, not really wanting to say that he loved Isaac like boyfriends and husbands do. Like gay men feel. “I call him my best friend, but it’s hard to explain how much he means to me.”

“I understand.” That was all Louis replied, looking at the lake with furrowed brows and intertwined fingers. He didn't look at Nicolas, and that made the younger man nervous.

Silence fell between the two. Nicolas' mind was spinning over what his grandfather might be feeling about his unofficial confession of gay love for his best friend.

Would Louis understand Nicolas' words for what they really were?

Or was he like his daughters and turned a blind eye to the obvious love Nicolas felt?

Would he be hateful and prejudiced like his late wife so proudly was?

Would he threaten to disinherit his grandson for being so deeply and irrevocably gay?

Because Nicolas had been understanding one thing as the months passed and his love grew stronger. He was so in love with Isaac, he felt so much affection and attraction for him like he had never felt for any girl or woman in his life.

One thing could be said for sure about Nicolas: he wouldn't fall in love with any woman while Isaac walked the streets with that devastatingly bright smile and the softest, fluffiest curls anyone could ever have.

It wasn't normal to have these thoughts about his best friend.

At least Nicolas knew that Isaac felt the same way about him, otherwise he would feel like a complete idiot for such devotion to someone who didn't reciprocate.

“Curious, son.” Louis woke him up from the whirlwind of thoughts that invaded Nico's young mind. “But I'm happy that you found someone who can give you such love and affection, something that our family lacks in demonstration.”

“I know everyone loves me, grandpa. I don't want you to get me wrong.” Nico began, feeling slightly worried that his grandfather had misunderstood his feelings for his family.

“Don't worry, Nico. I myself will never be satisfied with the way we show affection. I'm an exaggerator, and none of my daughters got that from me, nor did they learn from me to be one.”

“Are you sure?” With uncertain eyes, Nico watched Louis approach with difficulty, until he put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“My dear grandson, your presence here is one of the happiest surprises I've had in years. Nothing surprises me, no one tries to surprise me or please me. Knowing that you found someone who can give you moments like this is a joy for your old man's weak heart.”

Nicolas didn't know what to say, but he felt that his grandfather had revealed more information about his past in the form of sneaky and subtle words. Nico's blue eyes became clearer, stubborn tears forming on the waterline.

“Oh grandpa… How I wish you had someone like that.” Nico whispered sadly, suddenly understanding that his grandfather lived in eternal emotional loneliness, not just physical loneliness in that condominium.

“Don't worry, my dear.” Louis left a fatherly kiss on Nico's cheek and took his young face between his fragile hands. He smiled lovingly, wiping away his grandson's tears. “There's no reason to cry, I was young once and felt all the love in the world. Maybe I'm an old man alone because of my greed. Because of my sins.”

Nico opened his mouth to contradict him, feeling much stronger protection for his grandfather after this picnic. How can a soul so sensitive and willing to listen and talk feel so alone? And how can such a soul simply resign itself to this life?

“No, son.” Louis simply breathed the words out of his lips, smiling at Nicolas as if he had caught him before an escape. “Let’s go home, it’s already cold and I’ve never had a strong immune system.”

They put away the remains of the juices in almost complete silence, interrupted by the howling of wolves in the distance and Louis’s low singing. Nicolas identifies the melody as “I’ll Look Around” by Billie Holiday and has to bite his lips to hold back a sob.

What joy and satisfaction did that long-awaited conversation bring him?

He didn’t know how to respond as he laid his head on the pillow to sleep, letting his tears dry on the 400-thread-count pillowcase, which had been worn out for a few years. 

DECEMBER/1975

As Louis' birthday approached, Christmas Eve, more and more people he knew arrived at Wolves Solar and occupied his family cabins.

Mathilde was ecstatic to see her friends again on holiday and spent the day out with her companions, or cooking to visit them with a tasty dish in the early evening. William spent the morning sorting out company matters, in the afternoon he went out to play with his brother and a cousin, and at night he drank with his eldest son or couples of friends and his wife.

Vincent was sneaky, spending most of his time with friends, according to his parents. A blatant lie, as Louis knew he was most likely flirting with the youngest Medici daughter, stealing kisses and sighs between the ladies.

Louis, despite being much more introverted, noticed that he was involved in a strange dynamic with Francesca and her boyfriend Harry.

It wasn't like Louis was throwing himself into their relationship. On the contrary, whenever he tried to give them space to date in peace and alone, Francesca or Harry insisted that his presence made all the difference and that they didn't want him away. 

Obviously, Louis found it strange, especially when he realized that Harry sounded more than genuine in his words. After all, what boyfriend didn't like to be alone with his girlfriend, especially when said girlfriend's relatives weren't home? 

The worst of it all? Louis stayed. He stayed every time, sitting by the fireplace with Francesca perched next to him, or smoking a cigarette with Harry on the balcony, with Francesca cooking dinner for the three of them. 

Their routine was changing so quickly that, when the eve of Louis' birthday arrived, they were planning a moment just for the three of them to celebrate together. More precisely, a moment that day, at the turn of the clock. 

"I could make a dish, my parents usually go to bed early, but I don't think they would mind." Francesca insisted, stroking Harry's hair, who was lying his head on his girlfriend's legs. "But we need some time alone."

It was snowing like never before, but the morning was clear and Louis didn't feel like being stuck inside the house because of the cold. Inviting Fran and Harry to spend time proved to be the best option to distract himself.

Harry had his eyes down, sleepy from being woken up so early by the morning people, Louis and Francesca. He wasn't a morning person, but a partner, so he wouldn't refuse to go out too.

"Maybe we can just make cookies." Louis proposed, he would have dinner with his parents, and he didn't like to eat anything heavy so late at night. "Cookies, a lighter dessert maybe, hot chocolate…"

"That's food for Santa, Lou." Harry laughed. Opening his eyes and tilting his head towards where Louis was sitting. "Do you want to tell us something, sir?"

Their eyes met like a million times before, and Louis' heart skipped a beat like it had every other time.

Harry had a magic in his gaze that was surprising, it warmed every part of Louis and made him feel numb in his own skin. Such a strange reaction, indeed, but so satisfying at the same time.

“I really love Christmas food. Especially at dawn.”

“Amore,” Harry whispered, obviously directed at a smiling Francesca, but he kept his eyes on the blushing boy. “I think we have a celebrity with us.”

“Oh Harry!” Francesca laughed happily, lightly patting her boyfriend on the forehead. “Don’t joke about that! You know, I’m a big fan of Santa Claus and his songs.”

“Yes, amore. I know!” Harry finally looked away from Louis, shining his green iris at his chosen girlfriend. Louis took a deep breath as he watched the two so enchanted looking at each other. “That’s why I’m always on the lookout for the possibility of meeting him.”

“Louis isn’t Santa Claus. He’s too delicate to be a chubby old man.”

“Hey!” Louis exclaimed, not knowing how to feel about the comment. “I’m quite charitable. That’s a match.”

“Yes, baby blue.” Francesca agreed, turning her eyes to Louis. “But you, with your smooth, hairless skin, sharp cheeks and actress’ waist, couldn’t possibly be Santa Claus. Maybe one of his elves.”

“My God!” Louis opened his mouth in shock, hearing his friends’ laughter. “I accept all the compliments about my appearance, but I detest that last comment about my height. I’m considerably tall, for your information.”

“Compared to us…” Harry brought his index finger closer to his thumb and closed one eye as he looked at the metric. Louis would have been scandalized by the insinuation about his height, but he saw that mischievous smile appear at the corner of his full lips and was at a loss for words to express himself.

“You guys are just too tall freaks, that’s what.” That was all he could say with his mouth dry and his mind racing.

Francesca smiled at him with a familiar mischief, seeming to be able to read Louis’ thoughts.

Not at all respectable thoughts regarding her boyfriend, actually.

“Let’s celebrate Louis’ birthday the way he wants.” Harry finally requested, resting his hands on his belly and closing his eyes again. Francesca went back to stroking his curls, and Louis watched the sweet couple. “With cookies, hot chocolate, and… I have a little surprise for everyone.” 

Louis was curious to know what Harry was implying, but Francesca pulled his curls between her fingers and raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“Don’t tell me you managed to get that here.” 

“Amore mio, you don’t know all my ways of smuggling.” Harry laughed, to which Francesca snorted in annoyance. 

“Oh, if anyone dreams that we have that here, I can see my parents sending me to a boarding school or a convent.” Louis was feeling extremely lost, which was unusual for the couple, who always tried to include him in the conversation. 

It seemed like they were in their own world, slightly forgetting that Louis was there, completely attentive to their conversation. 

“There are more controversial things you’ve done than smoking weed, beauty.”

“Harry!”

“You brought weed in here?” Louis interrupted, choosing to ignore all the insinuations made in Harry’s last sentence. “But it’s a crime here.”

“We know, Lou.” Harry replied, finally getting up from Francesca’s lap and stretching his limbs. “But a special night like your birthday deserves us to go against the grain.”

Louis swallowed hard, suddenly becoming quiet. Perhaps feeling too innocent for never having even tried weed properly before, except for the times he got high just from the smoke of his friends smoking.

He nodded weakly, “Then we’ll be adventurous today.”

Harry celebrated with a loud laugh and stamped his feet on the wooden floor. Francesca had a cautious expression, but a smile was beginning to appear at the corners of her lips.

“So be it.” She said mysteriously quietly. Harry wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, leaving a kiss on her dark hair and smiling at Louis like someone who has a wicked secret hidden away.

“Oh, what a beautiful night we have ahead of us. Get ready, everyone, we’re going to be happy and freaky. Freedom!”

JULY/2022

“Do you know how I feel when I see you working so hard?” Louis asked his eldest daughter one morning.

Alexia was a spitting image of her father, with the same fine brown hair, which didn't grow much above her shoulders and was always tied up in a high bun. He had the exact color of Louis' blues, thin lips, and sharp cheeks.

Amélie tried very little during her pregnancy, you could say that Louis made Alexia all by himself.

However, the wife did not let the sin of nature go unpunished. Amélie never knew how to forgive Louis' mistakes, much less his sins. Alexia was the one who grew up closest to her mother, the one who received the greatest Catholic influence of all three daughters that the two would have.

Alexia was Louis' figure, but had Amélie's difficult personality.

Even the taste for work at the company, which Louis had to work hard to like, was always the girl's dream.

“What, Dad?” She asked without really looking, adjusting her glasses and approaching the papers spread out on her father's office desk. It was the only office in the large house, with two service desks, one more carved than the other, intended for the head of Tomlinson’s Traveling and his successor.

"Headache." The man replied regretfully, pulling the upholstered chair in front of his daughter, sitting cross-legged, and remained silent for a while, observing Alexia. “Shouldn’t you be enjoying your short vacation? In those five days, I only saw you working.”

“Beatrice is having difficulties with the branches in Europe, some procedures that she doesn’t have time to pay attention to and it’s up to me.” Alexia responded mechanically, shrugging her shoulders as if to say there was nothing to be done.

“That’s not your job, you’re not TT’s international relations manager.”

“Yes, but the IR manager is on vacation too. And he left this mess behind.” A tired sigh was all it took for Louis to take drastic action.

He was already over 60 years old, having retired shortly after his wife passed away, he never enjoyed working at the company and mourning was the perfect excuse. But sometimes he had to go back to help his girls.

“Alexia,” he called seriously, causing his daughter to stop what she was reading and look at him in confusion. “Save the papers. I'll make a call.”

"Father…"

But Louis was already calling the company and asking his daughter to keep quiet.

"Good afternoon! This is Louis Tomlinson. I have some matters to discuss with you, and I want you to resolve them as quickly as possible.” Louis listened to what was said on the other side, ignoring Alexia's apprehensive eyes and letting out a few murmurs of agreement. “That’s it. Take a piece of paper and write everything down. I’ll speak calmly and explain it well. I don't want you to call Alexia or Beatrice. You guys from IR can sort it out.”

Louis assumed the role of the company's former CEO, speaking with an authority that Beatrice dreamed of and perfected every day to achieve.

Alexia watched in ecstasy as her father demanded that they speak to the former manager. He asked why he had asked for his vacation to be brought forward if he had not even finished a matter like the one about the European branches. Louis authorized them to choose someone to solve this, it could even be a full team, all so that they would not have to call Alexia again.

Meanwhile, he authorized calls to himself, saying that if anyone needed an authority to communicate and Beatrice couldn't answer, he was the one they should look for.

At the end, he said goodbye with a smile and a laugh, thanking everyone for their understanding and help. Alexia remained silent until Louis placed the phone back on its cradle.

“There you go, daughter.” Louis smiled big at her, crossing his arms. “Now, what do you say we go get some ice cream and play a deck of cards with the Alcaldes?”

They weren't good at affection, Alexia didn't like hugs or very sentimental words. She briefly thanked her father and shook his aged hand with a certain affection.

The two called Nico to go to the mall and walked there.

Along the way, they passed many old houses that made Nico's eyes light up. Alexia realized that Louis took the long way to the Center, so he could show his grandson the places he knew.

“When I was a boy, I really enjoyed coming here on these swings.” Louis pointed to a wooden area with numerous swings installed at varying heights. “It was my grandfather who put up the swings, for my father and my uncle. Each family then started putting up their own, that’s why there are so many here.”

“I already broke a tooth here.” Alexia commented casually. Nico looked wide-eyed at his mother. "What? We had money to fix the tooth when we got back to town.”

“It was a very funny summer.” Louis laughed. Looking at his daughter, Nico noticed the lighter air between the two. “The twins were also hurt there, but they were much more mischievous than you.”

“Why didn’t we come here when I was little?” Nico asked, his lips in a small, almost imperceptible pout. “I don’t have any stories like that.”

“Your father didn’t like the trip.” Alexia said calmly, despite the disgust in her voice. “It’s actually quite common for some families to be united in marriage, grandma and grandpa are like that, but your father and I weren’t.”

"Is it serious?" Nico asked Louis.

“Yes… My cousin Marieta married the eldest son of that house over there.” He pointed to a bright yellow cottage with the most flowery garden there. “She practically always comes here, the relative I see the most. Amélie was from a family with the cabin furthest from ours, the Smiths, but also from here. So, the long trips and the habit of coming here are already familiar, it's not so exhausting. For someone outside, it is quite complicated.”

“Is that why Dad didn’t like coming here? How boring!”

Louis chuckled as he saw Alexia glance away at one of the cabins passing nearby. “And because your mother had a boyfriend here that your father was very jealous of.”

"Father!" Alexia's eyes widened in shock as her father and son laughed at her expense. “He wasn’t jealous of Niall, I didn’t even have anything to do with that man.”

“That’s the main issue that makes Niall irritate Andrew so much.” Louis narrowed his eyes on his eldest daughter. “You obviously didn’t handle the fact that Niall was completely in love with you well.”

“My God, Mom… I didn’t know you were such a heartbreaker.”

"Careful!" Alexia warned, but smiled when she saw Nico laughing so hard with his grandfather. She couldn't deny that remembering her youth was always good. “Niall was really provocative, I won’t deny it.”

“Very cool, whenever he comes to visit his parents, I attend some dinners.” Louis sighed wistfully. “It's really nice to live in a place like this, everyone has known each other for so long that it's quite normal to know when they'll even come to visit.”

“Do you know everyone here, grandpa?”

"Practically. We get to know each other at the lake, downtown, at the pool table, at dance nights… It’s impossible not to meet up and chat. During the end-of-year holidays, there is more commotion here, not so much in the summer.”

They arrived close to the shopping center, the facade of the ice cream shop was already visible and there were some people sitting at the tables outside.

The shopping center was nothing more than a set of shops and houses that served as a pastime for families. It had restaurants, small grocery stores, but more to meet the needs of everyone there, who did not want to go to the nearest city.

Louis continued to tell Nicolas all the curiosities that came to mind, telling him about old friends, about his parents and brother, about his beloved cousins, brothers-in-law, and people he didn't like so much. He talked about moments of his childhood that he spent there, and reminded Alexia of the pranks he played with her sisters Beatrice and Calliope.

They took their ice creams, walked to the lake, and sat on the wooden chairs on the deck. They chatted lightly, the mild weather was perfect for softer, flowy clothes, and Louis looked so calm and happy.

Nico spent more time observing than talking in a suit, he was a silent boy, he liked to analyze everything around him. He paid attention to his mother and grandfather, how they talked, and avoided topics. He noticed their eyes shine when they talked about paintings and books, just as their shoulders tense when they talked about Amélie.

He contributed when they talked about music and movies that were showing at the cinema. Louis said that he was always late for movies and soap operas, constantly watching the same ones, and needed to call Calliope in despair when the monthly streaming payment was late. That made it impossible for him to watch his soap opera.

Nicolas didn't know what had happened that early afternoon, nor what had made his mother wear a pink dress to leave the house, or smile so affectionately at his father, but he was happy. The boy felt lighthearted when he realized that, whatever had happened, Louis had managed to bring out a friendlier, less stressed version of Alexia.

The day ended with them gathered in the kitchen, talking while Louis cooked dinner, ignoring Alexia's insistence that she cook.

“I’ll make an old Ricci recipe for us.” The older one said it with a calm smile. “You wouldn’t know how to do it even if I were using your hands.”

“And how do you know how to do it so well?” Alexia retorted, sitting down at the kitchen counter after pouring a glass of wine for the three of them. “If the recipe is not from our family.”

“Nico, pay attention, we’ll also come back to that topic we talked about the other day.” Louis said, heating a pot of water and separating the spices. “I had this really sweet friend, my best friend, Francesca. We were inseparable and I watched her cook that dish every night we decided to do something together. One particular winter she gave me the recipe and taught me how to cook it, but she asked me to never pass it on to anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

“That’s beautiful, Grandpa,” Nico replied, with Alexia just giving a slight nod. “Did she pass it on to you for a specific reason?”

“At the time she thought she wouldn’t be able to have children. Her boyfriend and she had been having sex for so long and nothing.” Louis had his back to the other two, so they couldn’t see his expressions, but Nico noticed his aged hand shaking as he picked up a package of whole-wheat pasta. “I don’t know if she ever managed to have the children she dreamed of, but she passed it on to me as a way of continuing a legacy.”

“The Riccis I know don’t have a Francesca.” Alexia said, trying to remember the company they sometimes did business with at TT. “I only know one Edgar, who has a trillion children, all of whom work at the Ricci company.”

“Yes, I know Edgar, a difficult guy to do business with, but loyal.” Louis looked back at the two of them, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking thoughtful. “Francesca probably didn’t join the company, she was too adventurous to have been tied to an office. I feel like she would have preferred to travel the world, to see every continent with her love, to try every possible cuisine.”

“Do you miss her, dad?” Alexia was the one who asked, surprising both men there.

“A lot. She was my confidant in everything, we have a lot of history together, memories that not everyone would understand.” Louis smiled melancholy, shaking his head. “I don’t talk about her much, after I got married, didn’t happen to see her again… or her beloved, who became someone very special to me.”

“Why not, grandpa?”

“Well, what an interrogation this is.” Louis laughed to avoid the question, making Alexia and Nicolas confused and curious in their own way. Alexia said nothing, but Nicolas bit his lips like a child. “Life has its paths, ours never crossed again. The only Ricci I see now and then is that idiot Edgar and his pompous children.”

“Edgar didn’t know how to raise those children.” Alexia led the conversation, not wanting to know more about Francesca, but to complain about a business partner. “You can’t imagine the headache Enrico gives me every time I have to talk to him about some business.”

The capeletti was magnificent and the seasonings were simply unique in a way that Nicolas had never experienced before in his life. It reminded him of the times he had dinner at Isaac’s house and his father cooked for everyone—a delicious, freshly prepared meal that was rare to find the time and energy to make.

Alexia and Nicolas were responsible for the dishes, finishing everything quickly so they could rest for the rest of the night they had with Louis in the living room. The man was already turning on a soap opera and watching everything with emotion in his eyes.

When Alexia finally went to sleep, after sitting next to her father and paying close attention to the soap opera he had chosen, Nico decided to ask his grandfather about something he had noticed in the conversation before dinner.

“By any chance…” he began during the pause between one episode and the next, catching Louis’ attention. “Do the Riccis have anything to do with what we talked about yesterday?”

“Essentially.” Louis looked at him out of the corner of his eye, lines of hesitation on his lips. “You don’t let anything slip by, do you, son?”

“I am very curious, yes. You are too.”

“Too much.” Louis nudged his grandson with his elbow and let out a sigh, pausing the new episode before it even started. “I’ll tell you quickly before I go up to bed.”

“I’m all ears.” Nicolas smiled happily.

“I don’t doubt it.” Louis laughed quietly. “Francesca had a boyfriend, Harry. When I was in my early 20s, she introduced him to her family and brought him here one winter. I became very close to them both. Our friendship lasted a few years, some things happened… Memories that I won't share yet. My parents found out and didn't like it at all. I married your grandmother shortly after, as expected.”

“I don't understand, Grandpa. What does all this have to do with what we talked about, either?” Louis held Nicolas' hand carefully, but with evident affection. A gentle caress was placed on the young hand.

“Your grandmother hated Harry and Francesca, and just because of who they were. Amélie didn't even like me, but she put up with me because she thought I was being influenced by them. I'm two years younger, but enough for your grandmother to think I was more innocent than them.” Louis took a deep breath, seeing the confusion in Nico's eyes. “When some things came to light, Francesca, Harry and I never saw each other again. We couldn't see each other anymore, Amélie was a solution to that.”

“Your relationship with her was based on these things, then?” Nico tried to start understanding what his grandfather had been telling him in the last few days and how his voice was so fragile when he spoke about these two acquaintances that Nico had never heard of before.

“You can say so. Your grandmother never understood them; she never forgave me completely. She made a point of cursing me for those mistakes until her last breath.” Despite his sorrows, Louis couldn’t hold back his laughter at the end. “What I had with Francesca and Harry was a very special connection, not everyone understood. To this day, I don’t know how to explain it. Certainly, Amélie and my parents didn’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, grandpa.” That was all Nicolas could think and say to the older man.

“Don’t be, Nico.” Louis left a simple kiss on Nicolas’ hand, laying his hand on his cheek. “We must all find peace on the path we walk, I’m always trying, your grandmother will never succeed, despite the Machiavellian satisfaction she took to the grave with what my life became by her side.”

“I’m starting to think that grandma was a cruel person.” Nico said quietly.

“More often than not, she was. Very cruel and prejudiced, quarrelsome and stubborn. But she was always a good mother, so you will never hear Alexia, Beatrice and Calliope speaking ill of her. Nor should you speak ill of your grandmother, boy.”

Louis patted Nicolas on the thigh and struggled to get up with his grandson’s help.

“Come on, let’s go to sleep. It’s late and I’ve said more than I feel comfortable sharing.”

“I’ll make a cake tomorrow. Recipe from my friend Isaac.” Nicolas promised, walking with his grandfather to the stairs and turning off all the lights in his path.

“Oh, how happy! I can’t wait.”

When he reached Louis’ room, the old man turned to his grandson and grabbed him by the cheeks. Nicolas was a little taller, his father’s genes, and he had to lower his face so that Louis could kiss him goodnight on the forehead.

“Sleep well, my grandson. Remember that I love you deeply.” Louis stroked his prominent cheeks and smoothed his fine hair back. “What I was in the past is in the past, today I’m just an old man with too many memories. An old man with beautiful and intelligent daughters and a smart grandson.”

“Good night, grandpa.” Nico also kissed his grandfather on the cheek, squeezing him in a hug he much needed. “I love you, have a good rest.”

“I love you too, boy. See you tomorrow.”

DECEMBER/1975

The jingle of the keys was soft, but it sounded like a siren to Louis’ ears, who was shivering even with the amount of thermal clothing and coats he was wearing. Harry’s low, mischievous laugh contrasted with Francesca’s chattering teeth from the cold.

“I don’t agree with that.” She said it for the third time in ten minutes. They were walking to the mall, where one of the game rooms had the perfect space to celebrate Louis’ birthday. “We should have done it at home.”

“Love, your parents would have found out right away.” Harry shook his head, holding her closer to him to keep the cold at bay. “We have everything we need. Blankets, food, weed, and the keys.”

“Thank goodness there aren’t any cameras to catch us inside.” Louis commented, also hugging Francesca, who snorted in indignation at his statement.

“Tell him, Harry, tell him what else you brought too.” She urged.

“You’re ruining the fun, Fran.” Harry complained, but looked at Louis over his girlfriend’s hair with a huge smile. “I brought a camera so we could record the moment.”

“Oh, my goodness…” Louis said, feeling a stomach ache start to appear. “Would they not find us?”

“Never.” Harry assured. They were now closer to the center, and could go through the entrance that led to the covered area. The center was like a gallery, with its own corridors and some gaming and betting rooms. “The cleaners only arrive early in the morning, with the first rays of the sun. We’re completely safe.”

“There’s no guardhouse either, Lou.” Francesca reassured him. “We’ve been following their route for a few days and none of them have come this far.”

“Have you been doing this for a long time?” he asked, taking Harry’s backpack when he handed over what he was carrying to open the Alcade’s office in the shopping center.

“About five days.” Francesca leaned closer to Louis’ ear. “You know, to be more intimate, not to smoke weed.”

Louis didn’t know which made him blush more, the insinuation that it was the couple’s love nest, or that the weed was the real problem.

“And do the Alcaldes know that you have the key?”

“The youngest of them has a crush on Harry.” Francesca allowed herself to laugh happily. “He got the key when he told her he wanted to surprise me. I don’t know how.”

“It’s my beautiful smile and dimples.” Harry pushed the door open for them both and bowed deeply. “Come in, my dears. Let the celebrations begin.”

They didn’t turn on any lights, just the fireplace was enough for them. They opened a few windows, just a crack, and arranged the blankets between the fireplace and one of the windows. Francesca took the sweets and drinks from the small basket she had organized. Louis went to the record player and put on one of his favorite Latin records, turning the volume down low for ambiance.

There were no other people around, and, considering the position of the room, it would take them a while to find them inside.

The clock was approaching midnight. Harry rolled two cigarettes and the three of them sat together on the nest of blankets.

Louis accepted the wine that Francesca poured for them in shallow and not very elegant glasses, sipped quickly, and didn't think much about the next question.

"Am I in some kind of natural habitat for lovers and in your love nest?"

"Louis!" Francesca laughed loudly, free and happy. They already took off their coats, satisfied with only long-sleeved blouses and turtlenecks. "More or less, I won't deny that we've been cheeky here."

"She's being nice, Louis." Harry whispered, his voice melodious and inappropriate. Francesca slapped him on the arm. "I'll light up, but I'll give Louis the honor of starting the first joint."

It wasn't hard for the marijuana and wine to get to the three young people, the low music with a melancholic rhythm and revolutionary lyrics filled their ears. They were happy and excited, talking more than they really thought.

The blankets didn't form a spacious nest, so the three of them were huddled together, legs and arms tangled, heads lying wherever they could. Louis felt much more than he saw in the soft darkness. Francesca's soft hand caressed his arms and face.

Memories were made, jokes told, and expectations for the future shared.

Louis was turning twenty-one, he had so much to learn about the world beyond his romance novels and the Toronto newspaper. Francesca promised him wonders, saying that he should go to Vancouver sometimes so they could enjoy the city life there. Harry didn't raise his voice, the quietest one suddenly, the most affectionate one too.

Harry talked about his love for Francesca, they joked about how they met and how they were going to get married. Louis listened to him with envy, thinking about his own wedding. He commented sadly that he didn't see himself ever getting married, he didn't love any woman. 

How could he ever get married if women hardly ever attracted or satisfied him? 

A tension settled in the air between the three of them, who were so close and glued together, skin to skin and sharing their breath. 

"Don't you think I'm pretty, Louis?" Francesca asked silently, her voice choked with alcohol and strong marijuana breath. Her hair was scattered everywhere, long and soft, smelling of trees and snow. 

"You were probably the only woman I've ever found pretty, Fran. Truly." Louis commented heartily, feeling altered, but sincere and aware. 

"Were?" She asked, pulling Louis' face to look at her seriously. Eyes dark as night looked out over the ocean that Louis had carried with him all his life. “Not anymore?”

“I’m not the kind of man to desire someone else’s woman.” Louis smiled calmly. “I never saw you as a lover, I guess. You’re my best friend, marrying you was a relief because I admire you so much as a person.”

Harry’s hands somehow found space to reach Louis’ waist, pulling him closer to Francesca. Icy fingers came into contact with his warm skin, and Louis shivered all over. Francesca’s gaze was serious and seductive.

“I have a proposal.” Francesca said boldly, inspired by the music in the background and Louis’ oppressed sincerity. “To make sure you don’t really like women.”

“I’m sure one day I will, Fran.” Louis let himself be hugged by Harry and had his face held by Francesca. As if in hypnosis, he couldn’t think of anything else but the two of them. “I’ll like it.”

“I want a kiss from you.” She said with a sigh. “I want to help you discover those feelings, Lou.”

The birthday boy had already expected such a confession, he could feel the tension of romantic love in the air that exuded beyond the couple like a tempting aroma. However, he didn’t know what to say.

He silently observed Francesca’s features. She had almond-shaped eyes in the darkest tones he had ever seen, long eyelashes and full cheeks, a rounded face and a prominent chin. She was drop-dead gorgeous, she drew sighs wherever she went, she was ambitious and had countless boyfriends. Fran confided in Louis that Harry had been the only one to take her virginity, but Louis knew about his friend’s animalistic and adventurous spirit.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if Francesca was like one of those protagonists he had read about, who had a heart big enough to hold many lovers.

Without saying a word, but driven by a worldly and romantic curiosity, he wet his lips and nodded. Francesca smiled at him as if she had conquered the evils of the devil.

“We will be very happy, baby blue.”

Their lips touched each other simply, experimentally, and with uncertainty. Francesca was a trained lover, knowing everything about romance, but Louis was inexperienced and had not even managed a decent kiss until that moment.

Maybe it was right that his best friend was his first kiss, that she held him as if he were a delicate object in need of love.

Louis wasn't what people would call an alpha male, nor did he try to be, Francesca held him with ambition and desire, drawing almost feminine sighs from Louis' mouth.

In that darkness, a very dangerous feeling arose within Louis, which in the future he would suspect had always been there. Francesca lit the spark, and Harry made sure to set everything on fire.

As Francesca's eager hands traveled over Louis' body, her mouth claimed every sigh and moan, their tongues danced a dance Louis had never practiced before, and Harry breathed into his girlfriend's hair.

With his nose buried in her dark hair, his body pressed against his girlfriend's, slow, teasing movements that fitted one body to the other. Harry then brought his member towards Francesca, pressing them together and suppressing his own moans where he could. He brought his strong, calloused hands to Louis' slim waist and pulled him closer, moving them as if they were all one.

Louis couldn't hold back a delighted moan when he felt hands on his ass, a painful squeeze to the point of being pleasurable.

His lips released Francesca's, but his eyes remained closed, as if to return to sleep. The scent in the air was too sensual for what they were doing before that.

“How sweet you are, Louis.” Francesca sighed, pressing their noses together and giving soft pecks on her best friend's red lips. “I knew it would be.”

“I don’t know what to feel.” He said it sincerely, still feeling his body being held by two pairs of possessive and eager hands.

“Baby blue…” Francesca gently caressed his eyes, so that Louis would look at her. She had a beautiful smile, but it was the person behind her that Louis directed his gaze to.

Harry kissed and bit Francesca's white neck, at the same time massaging his member in the female ass and squeezing Louis'.

“Want to try more? Let's continue, we have all night to dispel your doubts.”

Louis didn't stop to think for even a third of the time it took him to agree to kiss Francesca, he just needed Harry's eyes directed at him, those wild and dangerous greens.

Francesca didn't have time to get out from between the two when she was thrown onto her back by Harry, who took Louis' lips in his.

Louis was certain of one thing: it wasn't that night that his doubts would cease. That's when it intensified, for sure.

Harry was more ambitious than Francesca, he was painful and aggressive, like an animal that finally takes a much desired prey. He grabbed Louis by the back of his neck and took his spirit, as the devil does with his victims.

Francesca was still holding onto Louis, but he thought Harry could also feel the feminine hands on him, their bodies pressed together, there was no room to breathe.

Without thinking about it, or even noticing the movement, Louis felt himself lying on the blankets and having a strong, masculine weight on top of him. The scent of pine and woody perfume filled Louis' sense of smell. He moans, opening his mouth at the deliciously suffocating pressure in his chest.

A feminine voice whispered things in his ear—promises and praise, desires that stirred the fiery soul within Louis.

His member was so hard it was painful, causing some of Louis' tearful moans. Harry seemed to understand, as did Francesca, the pain that afflicted him.

“We will do you good, my sweet.” Harry whispered, lowering his lips to Louis' neck and moving his tongue down to caress the warm, red skin. “My secret desire deserves all the care in the world.”

Harry's hips met Louis', their members pressed together, eliciting groans of satisfaction from both men. Louis opened his eyes to see the way Harry moved his hips and he made an effort to open his legs for Harry. Francesca placed a hand on his knee and stroked it lovingly.

“He is the best of lovers.” He whispered in his ear, biting the lobe there and trailing kisses behind Louis' ear. “Give yourself in, baby blue. Let Harry show you what it's like to be appreciated. I'll get my turn later, he can be a selfish lover too.”

The endless night was filled with kisses, orgasms and sweaty skin. Love filled the air, as well as sighs and moans, phrases of hidden lust, and promises of more and more nights like that.

Louis, like never before, felt like he owned the world, with these two incredible people yearning for his pleasure, for his satisfaction. As he recovered, he watched with longing as Harry and Francesca made love, but when he returned to his strictness, it was he they both sought most.

The first rays of the sun destroyed a magnificent fantasy, cooling the room where the trio found themselves. But with his cock still inside Louis, hard and throbbing, Harry lowered his lips to Louis' and moaned old thoughts.

“I wanted to make you mine as soon as my eyes landed on you. Francesca had expected, for whatever reason. It was impossible to resist your charms.”

Francesca's sweet laughter covered Louis' delighted cry, who came at the same time as Harry, who was holding him with superhuman strength.

It would be impossible to return to normal life after that night, finding the couple without knowing how to act around them, without knowing what to say.

Not to mention the bigger problem there.

Louis spent the night sleeping with a man the way only a woman should. And he refused to do anything to Francesca that was similar to what Harry did to him, knowing deep in his heart that he couldn't do it. He kissed her like a lover for long minutes, sank his fingers inside her while Harry teased him, received her feminine caresses, and mocked them both. But he was unable to get any closer to the lips of her vagina, or even his member.

No… He was sure he wouldn’t get any pleasure out of doing that. Not when feeling full of Harry was probably the best thing he'd ever felt in his life.

He didn't know how his life would go on after that night, but they had to run out of there when they saw the blue curtains of daylight.

The long embrace they gave, to a spiritual eye, could be seen as much more meaningful than any other friendly embrace.

Chapter Text

JULY/2022

The reality was that opening up to his grandson, recalling one of the most beautiful yet tragic moments of his life, and recounting it as if it didn't destroy a small part of himself every day was proving utterly difficult.

Louis never had anyone to talk to; no one ever wanted to listen long enough for him to talk about this part of his life that led him down the darkest paths of a queer person's life.

Always attending company meetings and dinners, surrounded by people who watched him grow and participated in the process of developing the serious, business-oriented person that Louis was, they never understood the personal and sensitive side he carried within his soul. At none of these events did he encounter those beautiful green eyes or such shiny dark hair; the harsh truth was that he would never see them again.

The renowned Styles restaurant in Vancouver wasn't run by Harry, nor were any particular reports about him and Francesca made in the newspapers. The kind of person who, like Louis, was extremely wealthy but wasn't in the mainstream media. Therefore, Louis had no idea what had happened to them after that tragic autumn, and he regretted it day and night.

He had lost a peerless lover, the best friend the universe could give him, and a relationship that had been considerably promising, no matter how self-centered he could be at times.

Despite everything, Louis believed he might be the only one suffering from this unbearable pain, since even before he appeared on the scene, Harry and Francesca were already a very happy and beloved couple. Louis was the addition; his subtraction wouldn't necessarily make a difference.

He searched for a long time in the early years of his marriage, believing they could still continue their relationship even with the obstacle that Amélia posed every sunrise.

He couldn't find them anywhere; no one knew anything about them. As if Louis had invented them, as if they had vanished into thin air. He dedicated himself to marriage when he realized that grieving for a lost love would get him nowhere, experiencing firsthand all the hatred a person could harbor for another. Amelia wasn't an easy person, never had been; she made a point of showing it.

When Amelia passed away, Louis tried again to find any trace of Harry and Francesca, feeling lost in the world when he knew that not even his daughters' love was strong enough to keep him close. Despite being extraordinary women, they weren't taught to love their father with all their souls because their mother never truly allowed them.

To this day, eight years after Amelia's death from heart failure, Louis still longed for Harry and Francesca. For their love and friendship. The unconditional affection and the sense of belonging, the understanding he had felt.

This feeling of longing is strange, because it seemed as if Louis had lost two people to death and never gotten over them, when the opposite was the truth. No one died; Louis felt in his soul that Harry and Fran were still alive somewhere in this world, but their abrupt and persistent absence felt like an unexpected death, the passing of a perfectly healthy loved one.

Dwelling on the past was one of Louis' favorite pastimes, obviously.

So, on that rainy morning when his daughter and grandson were sleeping in, he went up to the attic with a cold glass of juice and a small fan, knowing that the highest room in the house was always warmer.

He tried to do everything as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake his grandson, and especially his daughter. He wouldn't even know how to begin explaining to Alexia if she caught him rummaging through old photos of half-naked people- those people being two men and a woman much younger and, inappropriately, stoned.

Furthermore, he turned on the small, faulty light bulb that hadn't been changed in years and sat down in a chair covered in deplorable dust. He was fortunate not to have any allergies, but he also couldn't spend as much time in the attic as he would have liked.

Unfortunately, he would have liked to hang photos from his past all over the walls of the house to remember smiles and loves that warm the heart. However, he knew he wouldn't have the courage to take them down when he had guests.

He rummaged through the countless sealed boxes, calmly reading their names as he did every time he ventured there.

Playroom Records - RICCI and ALCALDE

Jazz and Blues Records

Grandma Tomlinson's Books - Keith Tomlinson

Latin American Books - Spanish/Portuguese

Accounting Books - William Tomlinson

Books - Culture and Customs

Photographs - 1921 to 1930

Photographs - Family Travels

Louis William Tomlinson [DO NOT OPEN]

It was this last box that he carefully picked up and decided to go against his own words by opening it. It was written in bold letters so that no one would really dare open such a box, but there were still countless envelopes inside with the same words, written with more care than in the box.

In all the 40 years that box has existed, no one has dared to open it. Whether it was Vincent, who began staring at Louis with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, or his three daughters, curious to know what photos Louis had of his youth… Even Amélia in one of her fits of rage, neediness, and disillusionment, or Louis's disappointed and sad parents, none wanted to open the box that held the disturbing secrets of his sinful life.

But an old man, without hope of a future with the crazy love of the past, could venture there, rip the seals, and cry over the yellowed photographs.

That's what he did that morning. He opened an envelope of photos taken in Vancouver on Harry's 24th birthday, which they celebrated with Harry's family, and watched the Canucks beat the Blackhawks with indescribable happiness. Even though the Canucks didn't make it past the playoffs and the Maple Leafs didn't reach the semifinals, it was the year Louis developed a taste for hockey, just as his father had always dreamed.

Mr. William Tomlinson never found out, but Louis started watching the games just so he could talk and tease Harry whenever the Canucks lost. He grew very close to his father and brother during the off-season, and his mother felt immensely happy seeing the three men in her life gathered in the living room.

Of course, happiness, after everything came to light, was reserved only for the moments when William could forget what a tremendous disappointment Louis was, when he screamed or cried with joy at a Maple Leafs victory. It made William think Louis was a normal man, and for a few hours, Louis could pretend he was one too.

The photos were always happy, like the moments Louis spent with them. For the most part, there wasn't a single encounter that led to arguments between them. Until the final moments, Louis still remembered them with a wealth of detail, suffused with nostalgic longing, a concealed sadness, an almost sickly hope… Fortunately, there were no arguments. Louis sometimes wished it had happened; perhaps that way, he wouldn't remember them with so much love and longing, and there would be some bitterness in his memory.

Who knows how long he spent in that dusty old attic? He didn't notice the time passing, but he noticed when his breathing began to get heavy and an uncomfortable itch took over his nose.

Before leaving, he opened a box of records to take to Nicolas, who might like to hear some old songs that had been part of those romantic moments in Louis's life. He also set aside three of his most important photos that, at some point, could be shared with his grandson.

Louis would no longer deny that he should open up about this to Nicolas. Obviously, talking about it with his daughters would be much more complicated, a pain and denial he didn't want to suffer at such an advanced age.

However, talking about it with his grandson, who had been speaking so fondly of a best friend, might be the best approach for Louis to finally talk to someone about Harry and Francesca.

He carefully tucked all the other photos into the envelope and the box, sealing it with a tape. As a final precaution, he hid the box behind others filled with old books, which he knew no one would bother to look at.

Those photos weren't for anyone but him. There was no point in leaving them within reach of prying eyes.

He tucked the three photos into his pocket, tucked the records under his arm, and held the empty juice glass carelessly in his trembling hand. Going down the stairs was tricky, but his grandson passed by just then and offered to help.

"Thanks, Nico," Louis replied as his grandson took the records and the glass so he had his hands free to climb down. "It's getting harder and harder to go up and down the stairs."

"You're welcome, grandpa," Nicolas replied. “But you should have called me or mom. You know we would have helped you easily.”

“I didn’t want to wake you. It's the weekend, and it’s probably the first day Alexia’s been up this late since she got here. Let her rest.”

They walked slowly to the kitchen, Louis descending the main stairs, his breathing quickening, needing to hold onto the banister. He’d kicked the nicotine habit years ago, but the aftereffects still lingered.

“I got these three records for you, grandson.” Louis went straight to where his cookbook was kept, bringing it to the kitchen island where Nicolas sat. “It’s a gift from my youth, when I was your age. When you and that friend of yours decide to talk about me, listen to these records.”

“Oh…” Nico sounded breathless, staring at the covers as if he’d found an ancient and valuable treasure. In a way, that was exactly what those records meant to Louis. “Did you listen to them a lot?”

“All the time!” Louis leafed through the book, not looking at his grandson. Maybe that way he could open up more, summon up a stronger, unfamiliar courage. "Especially with Francesca and Harry; they also really liked those albums."

"Tell me more about them?"

"Oh, grandson, there's not much to say." Louis laughed awkwardly, somewhat embarrassed. "Marvin Gaye's What's Going On was a favorite of Francesca's; she made us listen to it all the time; my dad really liked it, too. Each for their own reason."

"I've heard What's Happening Brother… for a school project."

"Obviously, it's a good song, and the album is about the Vietnam War; you clearly cover it in history or geography…"

"Which one is that?" Nicolas held up a man who couldn't understand anything written on the cover, just the visual elements: the Black man with a white button-down shirt showing his chest, the top of the guitar, and the stained wall or gate in the background. 

"I got it as a gift from my cousin Marieta. She went to Brazil on a trip with her parents; the military dictatorship was at its height, and many singers were being censored. She and her parents ended up staying only a short time, but she bought a lot of records. This was the one she gave me. She said it was the singer's first, but she heard many locals speak highly of it." Louis laughed happily, taking the record from his grandson and carefully running his fingers over the fragile surface. "She didn't understand a word of Portuguese; these records were how she started learning."

"And you understand?" Nico was also smiling, enjoying seeing his grandfather so happy as he reminisced about the past. "I've never heard you say anything."

"Oh, Nico, we have to clarify something here, right?" Louis handed the record back, clasping his hands over the recipe book and focusing solely on Nico. "I didn't understand, but I've always been very curious about Latin culture, so I kind of read books from there, researched their history… I listened to the most famous songs that reached us. It's complicated; during the 20th century, most countries went through dictatorships, and information control was very strict."

"So, you learned?"

"Just by understanding that, I wouldn't know how to talk." Louis laughed, turning back to the recipes. "Djavan is an incredible singer; Francesca understood it best. She liked to try to sing, so she'd stand by the record player listening and re-listening to the songs, lip-syncing them and writing down everything she could understand."

"It must have been really cool, like a riddle."

"Harry bought us our first Spanish and Portuguese dictionary. The jerk already knew French and his parents said he didn't need to learn any more languages; he was a total bore."

"He must have been with you the whole time, right?" Nico began reading the track titles, not really understanding anything, but it made him feel a little close to young Louis, who must have felt as lost as he did.

"Of course! Francesca and I were fascinated! Harry was conditioned to consume Latin American culture along with us." Louis giggled, bringing his hand to his lips and hiding his smile.

"Which one do you like best?" Nico rested his chin on his hand, wanting to know Louis' opinion completely, watching closely to his grandfather's expression.

"I can't say that Fato Consumado isn't one of my favorites." Louis sighed wistfully, avoiding his grandson's eyes, but his gaze didn't lie; he was remembering the past. "It talks about a search for inner peace and a simplicity in life that, in our case, is practically impossible. We have a lot of money and a very big ego in this family; finding simplicity is very difficult. Even if I come to the woods to seek tranquility, look at the house that protects us…"

Nico had to agree with his grandfather. These questions were things he would never have considered before; after all, he was placed on a platform of privilege that blinded him to much of the precariousness of society. However, Isaac was so politically inquisitive that he couldn't even enjoy the banality of life calmly; he was always worried, always wanting to get involved in some strike or activism.

Whether it was Isaac's approach to life or his constant desire to help minorities, Nicolas began to open his eyes to these questions as well.

In a way, he understood what his grandfather wanted to talk to him about. In the past, the ideals of his grandmother, mother, and aunts would have blinded him to these issues.

"Djavan often talks about love too; Fato Consumado talks about that…" Taking a deep breath and gathering the courage to look his grandson in the eye, Louis said, "I completely identify with the lyrics. It took me a while to understand that it was more than just a pleasant melody to listen to. It was a unique reflection."

"Is that why you helped the cause of those infected with AIDS with the company?" Nico asked, feeling almost overwhelmed by the sincerity in his grandfather's blue eyes.

"Yes, I realized I could do much more than just read and talk to acquaintances about this. I should help somehow, with what I had on hand.” Louis smiled, tapping his fingers on the cookbook. “Helping people the way we would want to be helped if we needed it.”

Nicolas didn't know how to respond, taken aback by his grandfather's words, which surely spoke a painful truth.

Helping people the way we would want to be helped if we needed it.

In case they were infected with AIDS? At that time, it was a stereotype that people in the LGBTQ+ community were the only ones infected. It's impossible that Louis and Harry thought they would be the heterosexual exceptions to this prejudice…

“It turns out…” Nico began, but Louis's gaze made him stop.

“Yes, Nico,” Louis said quietly, his lips pressed together nervously. “We had that concern back then, that it could happen.”

Nicolas seemed to be in a battle of who would blink first with Louis, but the two of them looked at each other as if there was an unspoken truth that Nicolas should understand between the lines. Not for the first time, the grandson felt like he was missing something big during his conversations with his grandfather, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

His eyes broke away from Louis's, going straight to the third record his grandfather had set aside for him to listen to and imagine his youth.

Ella Fitzgerald sings from the Rodgers and Hart Songbook… written in large red pen was: My Funny Valentine - L&H.

Suddenly, there was no doubt what Nicolas was missing… A tightness in his chest as he read the small initials made it clear to him.

The look on Louis' face illuminated any question Nicolas had now held on the tip of his tongue.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to utter a single syllable.

Alexia walked into the kitchen with her hair a little messy and a grumble on her lips.

"Dad, can we have mac and cheese today?"

DECEMBER/1975

The day after the three young people's long night of lovemaking, Louis was mortified with shame.

More so because of the way he'd acted with Harry and Francesca, his submissive and feminine demeanor, than because he'd slept with a man and his girlfriend. Besides, he’d still see them at the dinner celebrating his 21st birthday.

He was destined for even more embarrassment.

Having arrived home safely and before any of his relatives were awake, Louis went straight to his room, changed into a random pair of pajamas, and got into bed. His skin was sticky with sweat and other people's body fluids, but he didn't want to risk showering and waking anyone; he'd have to explain his early wake to his parents or aunt and uncle.

He wouldn’t fall asleep that moment anyway, how could he?

He was embarrassed, obviously, but also fascinated by the boldness he'd possessed in his body during that early morning.

Not only that, but he'd spent many moments thinking about Harry and Francesca as a couple, finding them so happy and beautiful together, souls that truly complemented each other. In a way, Louis longed for a relationship like theirs, where the companionship was so genuine and clear for all to see.

However, he couldn't deny that he felt a bit envious of that relationship too. Not in the usual way one might expect, that he'd envy Harry for having Francesca as a lover, but quite the opposite.

Louis wanted someone who treated him the way Harry treated Francesca. And if that wasn't terrifying in itself, he also came to the conclusion that he wanted Harry to treat him that way.

Which was tremendously frightening at the time he realized it, but he had enough time to think about it carefully.

He had always been a very understanding person, loved reading, and didn't harbor deep prejudices against minorities. He was different from the rest of the family; Vincent was the most open-minded, similar to Louis' way of thinking, yet he was also a considerably intolerant person. Being surrounded by people like that was exhausting. Louis knew he had no space to express his opinions on these issues, and he also knew he wouldn't get support from his family, let alone from others… It was a losing battle.

But Louis quickly realized his feelings for Harry, so quickly that he couldn't help but doubt their authenticity.

Was he really in love? Or was it just an illusion due to the time he'd spent alone and the affection he'd observed between the couple?

He hadn't talked to anyone about it; he didn't have the courage. But perhaps he revealed it with his eyes, since Harry and Francesca were so decisive and confident when they initiated contact with Louis in the dawn.

Truth be told, there was no point in mulling over so many possibilities in his mind. He'd only know the whole truth by talking to the couple at their anniversary dinner.

He spent the day with an unusual nervousness, stopping Helena in his free time and trying to start several other romances, all of which failed to capture his attention. His mother and father didn't even notice their son's awkwardness, preoccupied with their own tasks related to Louis and that night's dinner.

However, surprisingly, the older brother noticed his nervousness within the first few minutes he passed Louis' side.

"Why are you like this?" Vincent asked, an orange in his hand and an arched eyebrow. He pulled a chair closer to Louis and offered a slice, which Louis accepted. "Is it sinking in that you're going to be 21?"

"I think so…" Louis replied lightly, too lost in thought to answer his brother.

"I'll tell you, when I turned 21, all I could think about was the girlfriend I had at the time. I didn't even want a party, you know? But mom and dad insist that 21 is the most special birthday in someone's life."

"I wonder why?"

"Why the party?" Louis nodded, keeping his eyes on the horizon ahead of them. Many tall trees vying for dominance and a beautiful lawn covered in snow. Remarkably peaceful, yet dangerous at the same time. “I have no idea… For me, that age is when we’re most mature, of course… but I don’t think it’s the most important.”

“I still feel a little immature.” Louis decided to be honest; from Vincent’s posture, he seemed willing to talk more deeply with his younger brother. “I don’t think I’m an adult ready to run a business, let alone a family…”

“I know Mom and Dad are filling your head with that, brother.” Vincent sighed wearily, as if the mere thought of being in Louis’s shoes caused him pain. “But honestly? They’ll have to accept it if you don’t get married. Things are changing; men are getting married at an older age these days.”

Louis chuckled at that and shook his head. “Surely in your dreams, that happens, Vince. In real life, people keep getting married younger and younger, having more and more children… just look at Marieta, crazy to find a rich, foreign husband.”

“She’s been dreaming of being a mother since she was 10… You shouldn’t use her as a benchmark for young people’s desires.” Vincent couldn’t help but scoff. His younger cousin was incredibly dreamy, but she couldn’t think much beyond the standard her parents imposed on her.

“Would I be expected to never get married?” Louis scoffed, feeling a supernatural weight suddenly fall on his shoulders. Or maybe it had always been there, but considering the last few days, Louis could tell he was a bit distracted from his duties. “I need at least two children, don’t I? One to be free like you and the other to be tied to the family business.”

“Oh, Louis…” Vincent grimaced, unsure how to console the inconsolable. Louis had truly been trapped by this fate since he was in his mother’s womb, and his father was a Tomlinson. There was nothing to be done; until college, he hadn’t had much of a choice when it came to applying for management.

“I hope one day I can be like that, you know?” He said in a particularly sad whisper.

"Like what?" Vincent turned completely to the side, looking at his brother with furrowed brows and a crease in the middle of his forehead.

"Like this. Free to spend my days as I please, cooking, reading, or listening to good music… A pleasant companion who will discuss with me the books I read or the presence of a pet to love. A life partner, perhaps, but I don't see myself getting married anytime soon, not even to someone mom and dad would like."

"Wow…" Vincent took a deep breath, seeming to look at his brother for the first time in a long time. "You sure have some good lines inside you, brother. Who knows, maybe you'll write a book in the future; it seems like you have a lot of potential with the amount of words you must hold inside." 

"Who knows…" Louis smiled contentedly. Vincent didn't take his eyes off him, but the icy wind hitting their faces was beginning to take its toll on the rest of their bodies. It was December 24th, after all; winter would only get colder from now on.

The two got up to snuggle up by the fireplace, but before they could pass through the balcony door, Vincent grabbed Louis' arm and stopped him. Looking deep into the younger's eyes, he only finished saying, "Whatever you keep to yourself, Louis, I hope you can make all your wishes come true. Above any idealizations our parents may have, we deserve to be happy and change the world we live in."

Louis, speechless and breathless, shook his head slightly. This time, it was he who seemed to be seeing his brother for the first time. His soul, his character, his ideals, everything…

"Thank you…" he said calmly, watching Vincent smile with his lips closed. "We truly deserve this." They said nothing more, but what else was there to say?

They entered the cottage with trembling jaws but warm hearts. Louis asked his mother for some hot chocolate, and Vincent followed close behind, and they found their father and uncle in the living room with the fireplace blazing and cigars lit.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly, but friends arrived sporadically, prompting Louis to rush upstairs for another thorough bath.

Wanting to look his most handsome and elegant self at his dinner party, he took his time in the bathroom, carefully soaping his hair and trimming any stray hairs that might have grown on his face. He massaged his entire body, feeling good about himself and mentally preparing himself for the evening ahead.

For a man, Louis was undoubtedly vain, applying lotion to his legs and arms, using a perfume that was more sweet than woody, and combing his hair back. He chose a comfortable, cute, and elegant outfit in moss green and white that wasn't overly Christmassy, ​​but it wasn't far from the expected colors either.

He heard the commotion downstairs, the greetings, the lively music on the record player, the smell of freshly cooked home-cooked food, the laughter, and cries of babies… It was his birthday, and he would happily enjoy every second of it, even if the constant feeling of hiding something from everyone present was now perpetual.

When he descended the stairs, with light and deliberate steps, the first person he encountered was Marieta, who hugged him and showered him with compliments.

"The Alcalde's just arrived. Félicité has already gone to her mother's ear, you know how it is… She's hoping you'll start taking an interest in her bratty attitude now that Francesca has been taken." Marieta laughed maliciously. She was a natural gossip, born with a keen ear and sharp eyes; nothing slipped past her without her noticing. Louis was in trouble, yet at the same time pleased with his cousin's abilities.

"And Francesca, do you know if she has arrived yet?"

"Ah! She and her boyfriend have already arrived and gone to the balcony, probably to smoke a little…" Louis' eyes widened, thinking no one knew about Harry's smoking habit, which Francesca was starting to acquire. "Please, Lou, don't make that face." She laughed happily. "It's impossible not to notice the smell of Harry's cigarette; that slightly hoarse voice of his isn't fooling anyone either."

"Ugh! Don't spread it, girl!"

"Go over there with your chimney couple; we'll talk later." She left with quick steps and soft giggles. Louis saw her short brown hair disappear last in the direction of the kitchen.

He decided to head for the balcony, noticing a faint wisp of smoke through the outside window.

"You should be more careful; Marieta already knows Harry smokes with you, Francesca." It was the first thing Louis said as soon as the couple looked at him, in a silly attempt to break the ice and prevent his nervousness from consuming him. Unfortunately, he felt foolish as soon as the sentence was out of his mouth.

"I knew it!" Francesca exclaimed nervously, pushing Harry away from her and stubbing out her cigarette in the snow on the balcony. "Oh, how awful! They'll think I'm a smoker."

"You kind of are, love." Harry laughed at his girlfriend, watching her despair without actually doing anything. It was a somewhat cheesy drama scene, and even Louis could tell.

"But I didn't want anyone to know! I think it's ugly."

"I'd say it's elegant…" Harry shrugged when Francesca shot him a withering look. She snorted lightly and walked over to Louis.

"Happy birthday, dear friend," she said, her lips against his shoulder. They were somewhat different in height, she being taller, but Louis restrained himself from reaching his toes. "You don't know how happy your friendship makes me every day. I truly believe you were put in my life for immense purposes. We are destined for greatness, and I don't doubt it!"

"Thank you, Fran…" He whispered emotionally, feeling eternally connected to her in a way words couldn't explain. "I hope to always have you in my life."

"You won't be able to get rid of me that easily, babe." She left a lingering kiss on Louis' cheek, her cool red lipstick probably smudging where Louis had been careful to apply face cream. "Your present is already with Harry. I'm going inside to avoid any talk about me smoking."

"Don't worry, Marieta won't tell anyone."

"You're dreaming." She laughed and went inside, closing the door with a loud click and drawing the curtains from the inside on a subconscious impulse. Louis swallowed hard before turning to Harry.

"You got a haircut," Louis said sheepishly. Harry was still smoking his nearly finished cigarette. He was dressed appropriately for a dinner at home but not for a business social event, with dark blue, almost black, trousers alone and a matching wool overcoat.

"I got it," Harry replied, his smoke stinging, a cloud escaping his plump lips, and Louis took a deep breath, his heart racing as he looked at Harry after the entire late night they'd spent together. Strange to think that this nervousness hadn't been there when Francesca greeted him. "Did you like it?"

“It’s different, of course.” Louis decided to take the chair next to Harry so as not to have to stand when the other man seemed so relaxed in the rocking chair.

“Different-bad or… good?”

“Different-good.”

“Great.” Harry smirked, stubbing out his cigarette with his foot. His legs were spread considerably, drawing too much attention, taking up too much space… Louis was trembling. “I cut it thinking of you.”

“Oh, stop.” Louis laughed embarrassedly, not expecting Harry to say that so unexpectedly. “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m being honest.” Harry crossed his arms and lifted his chin at Louis, as if daring him to contradict him again. “I know how you like my curls, but I want to know what you think of my new cut too.”

“And why do you think I like your curls? I’ve never said anything like that to you.”

Harry’s smile was much more malicious, and Louis should have known better.

“You couldn’t seem to keep your hands off them earlier.” Louis' cheeks were arguably redder at the comment than any cold wind that reached them both. "I was a little sad when I decided to cut my curls, but I know we'll make it work next time."

"Next time?" Louis asked in disbelief at the boldness, laughing at Harry's wit. "You're certainly a comedian, Harry Styles. I didn't expect you to be like this with me now."

"I'm like that with the ones I like, my sweet secret." Harry's smile didn't falter even when Louis scolded him.

"Don't say that out loud!" Louis whispered to him, leaning closer and waving his hand. "Someone might hear you."

"The only person I want to listen to and take me seriously thinks I'm talking nonsense here." Harry took the opportunity to take Louis' hand and place a soft kiss on the back of it. Louis considered pulling away, but the warmth was so cozy and comforting that he didn't have the courage. "Listen to me, Louis, I haven't forgotten our night."

“It was hardly ours, Harry. Wasn’t it a game between the three of us? The couple is you and Francesca; it’s nothing to do with me…” Louis let Harry trail kisses all over his hand, lifting his sweater to lay his warm lips on the slender wrist.

"I wouldn't participate in these things with Francesca if it were a game to me, Louis." Harry looked at him, his wrist still close to his lips, his hot breath raising goosebumps on Louis's hair, connecting him to Harry. "She likes to propose threesomes, but I don't have a big heart like hers."

"Then why did you accept last night? It seemed like you two had discussed it before." Louis didn't know if he really wanted to know the answer to that question, but he was too engrossed in the intimate contact with Harry to really care.

"And we talked. I accepted because I'm attracted to you, Louis." The sincerity in Harry's voice was disconcerting, but there was no crack in his tone, and Louis didn't have the courage to retort again. "She's been enchanted by you since she was young, she told me once, but she said she knew in her heart you would never give yourself to a woman. Maybe that's what made her attracted to you."

"And what made you attracted to me?" Louis couldn't help but ask, involuntarily intertwining his fingers with Harry's. "We're both men; it's certainly strange."

"I have no problem with my attraction to both women and men, Louis." Harry sniffed Louis' skin, closing his eyes at the sweet scent and soft touch. It felt as if all the noise inside had disappeared and there were only the two of them alive in this world. "I'm attracted to you because it's impossible not to be. You're charmingly sincere and authentic; you have a stunning beauty, of course, but… You know what to say at all times; you have what everyone wants to hear on the tip of your tongue, but the truth hides in the tone of your voice."

"I see you've been analyzing me…" Louis narrowed his eyes at the man beside him, pulling their intertwined hands closer to him. A certain boldness took hold of his heart and mind; he brought his hands to his nose and breathed in their combined scent. "Have you fallen in love with me?"

"Completely," Harry replied instantly. "How crazy is it that I'm in love with Francesca but in love with you at the same time?"

"It seems tragic." Louis laughed, wanting to close his eyes and fall asleep to the perfect scent he smelled. "How will you survive the inevitable heartbreak of our separation?"

"I won't." Harry smiled, bringing his free hand to Louis' cheek and pulling him close, their breaths meeting, a cloud of condensation and clear eyes staring passionately into each other's. "But I don't want to stop seeing you, having adventures with you…"

"But-"

"Francesca, you know about our conversation. For her, it was an adventure; for me, it could be more." Harry looked at him with overwhelming hope.

Louis, in his immature age of 21, in the complexity of love he didn't understand, looked at Harry and found a sea of ​​possibilities. He loved Francesca with all his heart; he could consider her a soulmate who would find him in other lives, but… perhaps Harry was a passion he should live and prove himself.

After all, no one lives on what-ifs.

"Will I love you?" Louis asked with a mischievous smile, feeling his heart racing and his mind spiraling with emotion. "Will you treat me with affection and devotion?"

"I'll be the best of lovers," Harry promised, nuzzling Louis' nose and placing a short kiss on his lips. "I'm being greedy, I know. Loving two people isn't common, but… if Francesca is so free in her love, what's stopping us, the wrong ones, from having a little adventure too?"

"Greedy and full of promises." Louis placed a short kiss on Harry's lips. "I want to see if this love of yours will last beyond this winter."

"I feel like it will last my whole life, Louis."

Louis couldn't hold back his laughter, an unexpected joy taking over his entire body. The urge to kiss Harry for a long moment was expected but impossible. There were so many people inside the house that seeing them in that position would have been strange, let alone the kisses…

"Only time will tell. I hope it's not a huge waste," Louis whispered, wrinkling his nose playfully, silencing his laughter with his clasped hands.

"Let's go inside, my sweet secret. Let's celebrate your happy birthday."

For the rest of the night, Louis couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment in life.

He sang “Happy Birthday” and clapped vigorously, thanked everyone for every gift and laughed at every joke, received hugs from everyone, and felt no fatigue throughout the night. He danced with the women and talked business with the men, said a prayer of thanks for the night and for another year of life… He looked at each person present and memorized their features and sweet words. Even in his old age, which will take over his memory, he would remember that night with love; there was no way he could help it.

Fulfilled- that was how he felt when he turned 21.

Perhaps Vincent was right. There was so much to live for beyond his parents' expectations. Louis wouldn't hold back because of them; he had to find his own way to the happiness behind the pressure.

In a season as cold as winter, Louis felt the sweetest warmth in the world, in the comfort of the love of so many people, but especially of his new and eternal lover.

Oh, sweet lover…

JULY/2022

"So, your grandfather basically came out to you?" Nicolas heard a whistle on the other end of the line and a few giggles, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "How unexpected…"

"I mean, Mr. Tomlinson has always been a very staunch ally of the cause, right? Considering your family, it's a little suspicious."

"I think it might be true…" Nicolas sighed.

He had called Isaac and Zayn, hoping for some effective advice from his friends. Halfway through the call, Isaac invited Rachel, and while everyone was talking about Nicolas' grandfather's possible bisexuality, no one was really offering any good advice.

"What if you just asked him? Considering what he's already told you, it doesn't make sense for him to fight or lie…"

"Yeah, Nico." Isaac agreed with Rachel, but that was completely expected. Nicolas knew Rachel had been invited to the call as a form of support for Isaac's decisions; the two were like thick skin, always supporting each other's opinions. "He's very sweet and helpful; try to talk to Grandpa Louis about it again."

"I just don't know how, you know…" Nicolas scribbled disjointed drawings in his notebook, very similar to the ones Isaac also drew in his own books. "It's been two days since this conversation, and I'm going back to Toronto in less than a week, and I don't know how to approach him again."

"Did you listen to the records he gave you? Did you look up the lyrics?" Zayn asked after a long moment of not participating in the conversation, seemingly oblivious to half of Nicolas' ramblings.

"I haven't listened to them yet…" He took a deep breath, gathering courage for what he was about to say. "I'm nervous about what they'll say. You never know."

"I think they're love songs, Nico," Isaac said melodiously, his soft voice seeming to soothe Nicolas' nerves.

Ah, what he wouldn't do to be by Isaac's side at that moment. The sweet scent of his best friend was unparalleled, and the timbre of his voice in person was nothing compared to the one on his phone.

"They must be." Zayn agreed. He was a music enthusiast, listening to all kinds of genres and researching popular music from major cultures as a hobby outside of college. "Send me the names of the albums, and I'll look them up too."

"But there's an album in Portuguese."

"No problem, I might understand it better than you."

"Stuck up," Rachel scoffed, laughing out loud at Isaac's giggles in the background.

"A music lover, that's what," Zayn defended himself.

"I'll send it to you later, then, Z. I don't remember the exact titles right now."

They talked for another hour, but Louis' sexuality didn’t come up again.

In a way, Nicolas felt good about that. He didn't want his grandfather to be the topic of conversation like this, without even knowing it was being discussed among his grandson's friends.

Isaac was the life of the call, while Zayn and Rachel continued to tease each other more than actually talk. Nicolas remained calmer and quieter, listening more than speaking.

When they said goodbye, only Nicolas and Isaac remained on the call.

A few seconds of silence passed without either of them saying anything, just staring at the laptop screen.

"I miss you," Nicolas was the first to say, surprising even himself.

"I bet I miss you more," Isaac said, biting his fingertip with a shy smile. "It's been a while since I've heard your voice like this."

"I couldn't make the call before; Louis finds something for us to do every day."

"He seems like a very active old man."

"He is. He never seems to get tired, but at the end of the night he's always complaining about his lower back and knees." Isaac chuckled softly, lying on his stomach in bed. "Did you talk to him about my college project?"

"Yes! He loved the idea."

"Really? I was nervous about what you'd say; you haven't given me any clues lately."

"That's exactly the topic I talked to him about- what I wanted."

"And how did that conversation go?"

Isaac didn't know Nicolas had all these doubts about his sexuality, though he often suspected.

In the gay community they were part of, mostly made up of Isaac's friends, Nicolas didn't fit in very well, being much more withdrawn and tense than everyone else he knew. In fact, Isaac worried about this, knowing his best friend's family wasn't easy.

However, he didn't know how deep Nico's mind went. And that was why he constantly bit his nails nervously.

"It was actually pretty cool," Nicolas said, his mind racing. "That's how I discovered my grandfather's little confession."

"Yes, I know, but…" Isaac took a deep breath, and Nicolas watched him look everywhere but at the computer camera. "Are you okay with your doubts yet?"

"Somawhat" Nicolas was sincere. He was happy with all the conversations he'd had so far, but he couldn't deny the tinge of trepidation he still felt. "I'm much more comfortable now, happy that my grandfather is kind and without prejudice.”

“I knew he would be,” Isaac said confidently, a handsome, buck-toothed smile spreading across his flushed face. “Your grandfather seems like a great person.”

“He is! An amazing person, just… very lonely.”

The two remained silent for a few more moments; Nicolas didn’t know what to say, and Isaac didn’t feel like he should.

What do you say when someone confides in you about the loneliness of a loved one?

“Something happened in his youth that left him like this, lonely and guilty.”

“That’s sad, Nico.” Isaac sighed, carefully observing his best friend’s expression. “Has he told you what it is?”

“Sort of. It has to do with a couple of his friends he met here at Wolves Solar.”

“Oh?” Isaac frowned. “And he can’t talk to them anymore? People don’t sell real estate in places like this.”

“I know! But my grandfather never spoke to them again after marrying my grandmother, so I don't know…"

"That's terrible! It would be so nice if he could talk to them again."

"I totally agree." Nicolas bit his lip thoughtfully, remembering a key piece of information. "I don't remember their names, but his friend's family's surname is Ricci. That family is an old friend of the Tomlinsons! They're even in the family book."

"Oh! We can research them further, then… I'll see if my grandparents know anyone with that surname." Isaac smiled brightly, and Nicolas was momentarily breathless. "They had a cottage there in Wolves Solar, so maybe they do… I'll let you know as soon as I see them."

"Thanks, Isa, it'll be so important."

"You're welcome, dear… you know how happy I am when you're all cheerful like that."

xx

"Have you ever felt weird about working in the family business?"

"I don't think I ever felt right about working there."

They stood on the cottage's porch, enjoying the cool late afternoon breeze blowing past them. Alexia had just gone inside but would soon return with a warmer blanket for herself.

"I know mom will make me work there… there's no one to take over after her," Nicolas said regretfully, feeling this was his final fate and there was no escape for him. His young heart beat faster and more erratically with these thoughts.

"Don't worry so soon, Nico…" Louis took his grandson's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, their hands clasped together. "There's a good chance we'll end all the family traditions and nepotism we have. It would be a step towards modernity."

"Sounds optimistic to me, grandpa."

"I am one, sometimes." He laughed softly. Nico observed that his grandfather had been calmer these days. "If I hadn't been, this life would have soured me long ago."

"Is that about what we talked these past days?"

They didn't speak again, but after Nicolas chatted with his friends and saw a softness come over his grandfather's posture when they spoke, he felt more at ease about bringing up the subject.

"Certainly." Louis looked at him with those nostalgic eyes and a knowing smile, giving his young hand another squeeze. "Did you know a friend of mine always said that cycles are eternal? We are the ones who put the end to every story. I always believed him. Whether through trust or hope, we need to believe we have control over our lives."

"Will I be the end of our family tradition?" Nicolas sounded lost, but the confidence in Louis's voice and the evident comfort in his posture reassured him.

"Be brave, grandson. You'll be smarter and truer to yourself than I was at your age."

"Don't be hard on yourself, grandpa."

"I'm not!" Louis laughed, thin lips pressed together. "I'm a realist too. If I were a decent old man, a brave young man, perhaps we wouldn't be having this conversation now.”

“Why? I see no reason why we shouldn't have, even if you were braver.”

Louis stared at him for a few long seconds, clearly considering what he would say next. Nicolas wanted to hear everything, felt an itch all over his skin to know more, and had a desperate yearning to understand his grandfather that he couldn't describe.

Nicolas gave a gentle nod, watching Louis' rugged blue eyes examine every inch of his grandson's face.

“Perhaps I wouldn't have grandchildren to have these conversations with if I had ever had the courage to end the tradition.”

Nicolas was speechless; nothing came to mind to respond to Louis's blunt words. What to say to an elderly man whom Nicolas strongly suspected was gay and had never had the opportunity to live his true self?

The most painful part was that Nicolas was afraid of being that way. Cowardly and closeted, unsuccessful, forgotten among flowery words in the Tomlinson family book.

Louis had a successful career in the company, reformed the principles of a sexist and prejudiced company, helped NGOs around the world, donated all the excess money he had, and saw no purpose in his life.

Who was Nicolas close to his grandfather?

What guarantee did Nicolas have that, even though he never came out to his family, he could sustain a business as well as Louis? Even though he suffered, he still managed to recover to help so many…

Nicolas was nobody.

He felt like a nobody.

"You were brave to have had this life," Nicolas replied, his head buzzing, his eyes lost, and his mouth dry. "To have stopped being who you are to live this other reality."

Louis smiled small and uncertainly, as if unsure whether to truly believe his grandson.

"This is who I am, Nico," Louis replied. "When I stopped living one narrative to build another, I didn't kill one character to live another; I adapted them."

Adaptation.

What exactly are we in this world for, if not to adapt to the constant obstacles the universe throws at us?

Nicolas was young, and they always reminded him of that. They praised his wisdom and determination at such a young age.

Would they still praise him if they knew how much he wanted to give up everything and go back to being a child?

He was afraid of the future, anxious about the present, and nostalgic for the past.

He wanted to never grow up because life gets more and more serious after the age of 20. But only the dead stop in time and don't age. As a living being, Nicolas would always be evolving and growing, becoming more and more serious and responsible.

Being a child forever seems like a dream now, whereas before it was a nightmare.

"I love you, grandpa," Nicolas said with teary eyes, feeling like a child in an adult's body.

"And I love you so much more, my grandson." Louis ran his wrinkled fingers over his grandson's wet cheek, smiling gently at the display of sensitivity. "You will adapt to this world too. But we hope it's a good adaptation, one that doesn't repress you or bring misery. Life is too good to be reminded of past mistakes." Nicolas nestled into his grandfather's lap, watching the sun set next to the man he respected most in this world.

Whatever's meant to be will be. Nicolas had to believe that, since Louis clearly believed in a better tomorrow. Nicolas was no better person to not believe in his grandfather's righteous ideals.

When Alexia returned and saw her son sleeping in his father's arms, she simply smiled and sat down nearby.

"Did something happen while I was away?" she whispered, throwing part of the blanket over Nicolas' bare legs.

"No big deal, just a conversation between grandfather and grandson."

"I see you're having a lot of these conversations these days."

"Nicolas is still young, he has a lot on his mind, and he's constantly thinking. It's not good, but it's wonderful at the same time."

"He said he's seeing a psychologist at school, but I insist on paying for an appointment outside as well, to see if it helps."

"It's not always how much you pay for a consultation, but where you do it. Maybe he likes the school and feels comfortable there."

"That's the only explanation." Alexia sighed.

Louis glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but Nicolas couldn't discern anything through the layer of sleep that had overtaken his mind.

Within minutes, he was dozing soundly, the whispers about him lost in the air.

FEBRUARY/1976

Louis woke up in strong, warm arms, a masculine body behind him, and soft sighs fell on the back of his bare neck.

A delicious smell of coffee and cake invaded Louis' newly awakened senses, making his stomach growl from the long hours of fasting.

Harry slept passed out behind him, to the point that he didn't wake even when Louis stirred and got out of bed. The man was a sleeping machine; Louis never got used to it.

Yesterday was Harry's birthday, the first Louis had ever celebrated.

Completely taken aback by the invitation, he flew the hundreds of miles between Toronto and Vancouver and knocked on Francesca's apartment door, embarrassed that he had actually accepted her invitation.

Harry didn't even know he was in town. It was a surprise. A surprise that Louis was a part of, and that was the most important thing of all.

Francesca had been careful not to tell Harry about it and not to stop by anywhere when the plane landed, just to get in the Ricci's car and drive to her apartment.

That's exactly what he did, with two suitcases and a handbag, a scarf tightly wrapped around his neck, partially covering his face, a heavy coat draped over his body, and his brows furrowed with worry.

What had he been thinking, accepting such an invitation? He and Harry had exchanged, at most, three letters in that one-month period. Granted, they'd made almost no sense in most of them, but still!

Louis shouldn't have been there. That's what he repeated to himself over and over, trying to get it through his mind as he waited for Francesca to let him into the building.

When he entered the small apartment paid for by Francesca's parents, it was exactly as he'd imagined it would be.

She greeted him with a long, warm hug, more than happy to have her friend close to her after so long. A month was a long time, Louis agreed.

They talked about everything and nothing, drank tea, ate sweets, and read articles from the Vancouver newspaper. The gossip column was brilliant, but Louis couldn't deny he was thrilled with the recommendations for which records he should buy next and which movies to watch at the cinema.

He arranged dates with Francesca for each of these activities, and Harry was included in all of them.

As the afternoon passed, they began preparations for Harry's birthday dinner.

It was February 1st, 1976. Harry would celebrate with Francesca and some friends. They might smoke a little at the end and open up a bottle of whiskey to torment Fran's neighbors that Harry loved to cause trouble to, oddly enough.

Louis listened with glee to these little quirks about the boy he was crushing on. He could admit to himself that he harbored a certain affection for Harry, though he didn't say it out loud to anyone else.

He helped set the table for five while Francesca cooked Harry's favorite dish. Likewise, he'd hidden the gift in the guest room and hoped to show it to Harry if they had some alone time. The first friend to arrive was Mitchell Rowland, whom Francesca introduced to Louis with great enthusiasm and full of accusatory jabs.

Mitchell laughed and engaged Louis in conversation as if he hadn't heard the phrase "Louis and Harry became great friends back at Wolves Solar" with the most malicious tone anyone could muster.

Apparently, it was only Louis' social circle that harbored extremely homophobic thoughts.

He knew it wasn't just his circle and that it was the standard norm of people's thinking. Even if he wished it weren't.

The second friend to arrive was Layla Malik, much quieter and more reserved than Francesca and Mitchell, much like Harry when he was talking to Louis. Friendly, intelligent, and quick-witted, she didn't need Francesca's snide comments to understand who Louis was.

She only needed to see the way Harry's eyes lit up when he walked through the door and saw Louis sitting at the table. The evening was truly delightful. Louis couldn't deny having a great time with these new people, open-minded and easygoing, so free with themselves.

When Harry finally arrived, the atmosphere in the apartment obviously changed, with Louis feeling more hesitant and unsure of how to act around him and their friends. Francesca, always vibrant and unfettered, didn't feel the tension in the air, nor the increased care of the two men, nor the shrewd and curious looks of her friends.

Harry hugged Louis for a long time, with cautious and gentle hands, their cheeks pressed together and his nose close to his neck. Louis could also smell Harry's perfume with an unusual intensity. No scent was as strong as his, but Louis could identify it from miles away.

"What a surprise to have you here, Lou!" Harry whispered in his ear, taking a deep breath as if to control himself. Louis was no less nervous; his heart was pounding so hard that he could feel it through the embrace. "I didn't know you were coming from Toronto."

"I had no plans for this date, and after Francesca's invitation, I couldn't say no…"

"I'm happy. Your presence is very welcomed."

And Louis believed with all his soul. His body felt everything with an unfamiliar fervor, his thoughts glazed over and always revolving around the other man. It was so unfamiliar to Louis, who had always heard about the danger of feeling things too much; excess is a sin, they always told him.

He shouldn't love anyone too much, nor worship anyone. Feelings reserved only for God and Jesus, no one else. He should follow the commandments of the Bible faithfully if he wanted to be reunited with his grandparents and great-grandparents in the future, in heaven- where all the Tomlinsons would surely be.

In reality, Louis did feel a strong attachment to the Christian faith when he was younger. As a boy, he often went to church hand in hand with his grandmother and enjoyed listening to her talk about the saints and Bible stories for hours on end. She felt a love for God that few people feel today.

However, Louis didn't feel even a third of that feeling when he heard his grandfather speak about Christ. A fruitful devotion, where his grandfather only remembered God when it suited him and fit into his conservative and prejudiced speeches.

Louis had always been a bookworm. So, from a young age, he had read the entire Bible for pleasure, as well as so many other books. He was very intelligent, a writer like no other, with enviable oratory and an extensive vocabulary. He had an open mind and rarely succumbed to worldly prejudices. Supported by the divine word, he could still walk the most secular streets of Toronto and not mind seeing men kissing in the dark.

Perhaps he never worried about excessive feelings, living a comfortable and monotonous life, full of rules and routine. He read a lot about the feelings that could end a person's life: too much love, too much anger, too much sadness… None of that mattered.

Not until Harry.

How could he explain to anyone that just being near that man with green eyes and curly hair made him feel giant and tiny, capable and incapable, mature and innocent…

It was consuming him completely- this inexplicable feeling.

As the night wore on, he allowed himself to become increasingly relaxed, with Harry and Francesca there to reassure him that nothing bad would happen. That it was okay to be however he wanted, that no one would judge him.

The night was fantastic; Louis could finally surrender himself to Harry's arms as he ardently desired. He felt loved and desired, cherished and yearned for by this man.

Francesca was an enthusiastic lover, always happy to participate, and she kissed Louis like a true lover, although, at this point in their relationship, they knew that Louis and Harry had a much stronger connection than Louis and Francesca.

This didn't apply to Harry and Francesca's relationship, which was much more complex to explain- intense yet friendly. Louis often wondered about the dynamic between them when he wasn't there, but it wasn't his place to ask and further intrude into a relationship that wasn't his.

The only relationship he had was with Harry and Francesca as a threesome, not as a couple. He only dared to ask questions that pertained to the dynamic of the three of them, but never to the dynamic of the two of them.

It might have been cowardly of him, but even the most complicated people needed to voluntarily protect themselves.

Louis fell asleep in Harry's arms, while Francesca accepted a friend's invitation to go out. Neither of them saw her leave, although Louis suspects Harry walked her to the door. He heard unfamiliar voices and laughter, and it was only then that he fell asleep peacefully.

He woke up in the arms of the man he loves, with a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. He found Francesca baking a cake, her hair tied in a messy bun, a cleansing face mask neatly applied, and a used ashtray resting on the counter far from where all the cooking mess still lay.

"Good morning," Louis said softly, looking at the mess and yawning slightly. He was dressed in Harry's borrowed pajamas, and he hadn't even stopped by the bathroom to check on his face and hair before meeting her friend.

"Good afternoon, my dear…" She replied with a light laugh, turning to look at Louis with those wide, welcoming eyes. "Did you have a good night's sleep?"

Louis felt his cheeks flush, remembering the times he or Harry would wake up in the middle of the night and have another round of sex, just for the sheer pleasure of feeling each other's bodies once more.

"Very peaceful…"

"I see!" She laughed, pointing to Louis' neck, indiscreet evidence of a possessiveness that shouldn’t belong to Harry, considering the relationship he had with Francesca. “Harry must love being able to mark someone with all that vivacity. You like it too, don't you, Lou?"

"And your night, how was it?" He decided to change the subject, still not feeling comfortable enough to discuss with her all the details of when he and Harry were alone. It felt very much like he was betraying his friend, even if she knew about them; it was awkward.

"Fantastic, love." She sighed wistfully, sitting on the counter stools, ignoring the mess of packages and dirty jars. Louis approached, closing some containers of ingredients, while she lit another cigarette. "Leonardo is very lively, just like me. We went to countless bars."

"I thought you were going out with a friend…" Louis smiled, seeing Francesca's mischievous smile blossom. Suddenly, it was just the two of them, 14 years old again.

"That's what Harry told you, love. He's traditional in his way; he doesn't like people knowing I go out alone with a man who isn't my boyfriend."

"It makes sense; everyone knows about your relationship… What if they think you're cheating on Harry?"

"Shh." Francesca brought her index finger to her adorned lips, her whisper low and her giggle choked.

They continued talking about Francesca's night until the brownie she was baking was ready, and in the meantime, Louis had also finished cleaning the counter and dishes, having gone to brush his teeth with Francesca chattering behind him.

As soon as they finished setting the table for three, Louis was turning on a vinyl record to set the mood for a late breakfast, and Harry emerged from the bedroom in his hiking clothes.

He appeared in the kitchen and looked at the table with confusion, seeing the two people he loved most laughing softly and drinking coffee.

"Darlings…" he called, as always, earning the most mesmerizing pairs of eyes. "It's almost 3:00 PM… Shouldn't you have lunch by now?"

"Yes, but we decided to switch meals today." Francesca responded quickly, taking another bite of brownie.

"What about you, Harry? Why are you wearing running clothes if it's not even 5 p.m. yet?" Louis asked lightly, admiring Harry's muscular arms and thighs, exposed in his workout clothes. It was a bit more revealing than a soccer uniform, not at all suitable for Vancouver's chilly weather, but Harry felt like a human oven sometimes, feeling hotter than usual.

"I can't miss my morning run as soon as I wake up, can I? I'll do both runs today, but I think I've adopted your method and reversed it."

"Presumptuous." Francesca laughed, blowing her boyfriend a kiss. "Buy an ice cream on your way back; I want to try something with Louis later."

Harry didn't say anything, and neither did Louis, who didn't know what Francesca wanted with the ice cream.

He didn't stay curious for long, as Harry made a much shorter walk than usual, returning as he carried a euphoric smile and a heavy breath.

"I'll start." He said, as he walked through the door, the sound of the grocery bag and the apartment keys following him.

Louis, who was lying on Francesca's lap, looked up at the newcomer and then at the apartment owner, seeing her give her boyfriend serious looks.

Some kind of dominance dynamic was about to unfold between them, and Louis could identify it better than he had at other times. It was more frequent than it would seem from the outside. They were both very controlling and somewhat selfish people, with strong tempers, and often fought over it. Louis was much calmer and more understanding, which seemed to work well for both of them.

"It was my idea," Francesca said seriously, her fingers still stroking Louis' hair, her nails scraping the delicate skin of his shoulder. "You'll get your turn later."

"I introduced you to this, Francesca." Harry said, taking off his sneakers, breathing rapidly, his chest rising and falling heavily. Louis might have said it was just the running if he didn't know better. Harry was holding back, for all Louis knew. "I'll start."

"No, Harry," Francesca said, her eyes blinking nervously, her nostrils flaring enough air for her chest to expand, and Louis could see how well her breasts formed. "I'll show this to Louis. You already have plenty of opportunities that I don't."

Louis- sweet and soothing Louis- took a deep breath, shifting his gaze from Francesca's breast to Harry, who seemed to be in a race to see who would give up first with Fran.

"I think I want to try this with Francesca, Harry. She was talking about it excitedly until just now…”

She wasn’t, but Louis could see how important whatever she wanted to do was to her. It didn’t seem like a big deal to him, but he also didn’t think many of the significant moments he’d shared with them would amount to anything like that.

Harry could have held on to the internal fight between him and Francesca for longer, but he quickly gave up after Louis’ words. “I’ll get the things you’ll need.”

He stepped into the kitchen, and Francesca turned to Louis with a cheerful smile and a chaotic glint in her eyes. "Thank you, love," she whispered, bringing her soft lips to Louis' cheek. They lingered there for much longer than a polite kiss of thanks, but Louis didn't complain, accepting it with affection and eagerness.

When Harry returned, he carried a glass bowl with enough ice cream for two people and three small teaspoons. Francesca had Louis' head resting on her shoulder, a satisfied smile on her lips, while Harry wore a hard look and pursed lips, devoid of any humor.

"Here you go," he said, much more seriously than usual. But Francesca didn't seem to mind her boyfriend's bad mood, taking the bowl and smiling cheerfully at Louis.

"I hope you're not squeamish about getting dirty."

And Louis wasn't a picky person; whatever they wanted to do, he would have it. "Let's get ice cream and start by kissing slowly. It gets colder, and it's really nice."

That's how it began, almost innocently, each of them taking a scoop of ice cream and French kissing afterward, giggling mischievously.

The dynamic worked much better between Francesca and Louis, who seemed to be having fun doing it. However, Harry was much more sullen and didn't let go of the kisses quickly, always demanding more and more.

Louis didn't quite understand the drastic change in mood; there was no reason for him to be like this just because Francesca and Louis were kissing more.

Especially considering that he and Francesca were also together and doing it more often.

One thing led to another, and before they knew it, they were already tangled up, naked, on the living room floor, among the blankets they had gathered earlier.

For Louis, it was almost natural, in that moment, to join the couple and give in to their desires. It was the same desire he had, and that wasn't a problem. The issue was how possessive Harry became at times, much more focused on Louis than Francesca. This wasn't much different from Francesca, who seemed more interested in Louis than Harry.

He felt deeply desired, and this was a dangerous feeling that could go to his head.

When someone who has been numb to their own desires for so long is suddenly energized and becomes aware of these repressed desires, addiction sets in quickly, and the effects of withdrawal are evident for all to see.

Louis felt heat rush through his body, like fire spreading along an alcohol trail.

He looked at Francesca and saw the burning desire in her almond-shaped eyes, her eager hands, and her red lips, releasing a shallow breath. He kissed her as if there were no tomorrow, kissed her like he'd never kissed another woman in his life, and pulled her close as if to merge their bodies. He listens to Harry with his eyes closed, feels his masculine body approaching him like a hunter for their prey, and submits to him as if it were second nature. Harry takes him and shows his desire to possess him, kissing Francesca as he thrusts hard inside Louis.

Nail marks are left on their soft bodies, which later turn into thin, whitish scars, which, with bad luck, will fade over time.

Louis wanted to carry them with him for the rest of his life, a physical reminder of what would always be with him emotionally.

It was so interesting how people could be different lovers. He had never stopped to reflect on this until he became involved with the couple.

The way Francesca loved Harry and still had room to love so many other people. While Harry, who didn't see himself in an open relationship, was willing to experiment for Francesca and didn't feel insecure about it. He was even happy to have found Louis and be able to have a relationship with him, no matter how strange Louis found it all.

It was pure, even if considered perverted by so many. Louis had never felt so loved as he did between those two passionate lovers.

And he'd never felt as if he'd loved anyone else until he met them.

How could things be… He would never understand a world so square when such special opportunities were so readily available.

JULY/2022

If there was one thing Nicolas learned during those weeks with his grandfather, it was how to have patience. There was no other way to put it; Louis taught him the art of waiting for something good to happen.

He was a calm man, once extremely cheerful and lively, but the world had taken care to slow him down. Now, Louis was just a man with many dreams and little time.

Nicolas knew he couldn't pressure him; his grandfather wasn't someone who spoke when they wanted him to, but he kept things suspenseful so that things would happen the way he wanted. He was controlling, although he didn't like being called that.

So, two or three days had passed since the last conversation where Louis indirectly confessed his affair with Harry and Francesca. This conversation planted a seed in Nicolas' mind, keeping him awake at night.

It was clear that Louis wouldn't talk about them again without being prompted. Not necessarily to say something bad, but simply to open up to his grandson. Alexia was a constant, almost oppressive presence, making any frank conversations the two could have impossible. Louis didn't seem to care, but Nico cared deeply.

He wanted to know everything about this polyamorous, queer romance his grandfather had during his youth. Louis, meanwhile, was simply happy that his daughter and grandson were spending time with him, with no expectations of what the world outside of Wolves Solar had in store for them.

It was on Thursday, two days before they were to leave the Tomlinson cabin, that Louis called them both into his office and asked to have a conversation with them.

The atmosphere was tense when Nicolas entered the room, unaccustomed to being lectured and not expecting Louis to give him one. After all, what had he done wrong?

He didn't know, and from his mother's expression, neither did she know if she had done anything wrong.

"I called you both because I have something serious to tell you." Louis didn't hesitate, lacing his fingers together and leaning back against the cushioned chair.

"Dad…" Alexia took a deep breath and looked at her father as if she expected this conversation to be quick. Indeed, Nicolas was apprehensive, but he didn't want to show it so bluntly. "Can we hurry this along? I have an important call soon."

"I'll be brief, sweetheart; don't rush an old man," Louis joked, but the smile on his lips didn't reach his eyes; it seemed almost melancholic. "There's a lot of my life you don't know yet that I've purposefully chosen not to share with you."

"I'll go with you to Vancouver and spend a few weeks at the family home there, which I don't like for several reasons." Was the first thing he said after a pause to breath and look between the other two.

"You can stay at my house, dad." Alexia cut him off, pulling out a chair and sitting down promptly. Nicolas quickly copied her.

"I don't want to bother you, I really don’t…" Louis seemed to be thinking about his next words, barely breathing, and consequently, Nicolas couldn't breathe normally. It was strange to see someone so imbued with authority quiet and apprehensive, but there Louis was, weighing his next words. "I'm going to say something very important, which I hope you'll understand and won't interrupt me."

"Go ahead, grandpa," Nicolas said softly, offering a loving smile as Alexia glanced from one to the other.

Somehow, Nicolas already knew what Louis was going to say.

"During my youth, I had a very overwhelming passion, which was brutally rejected, and my parents did everything they could to stop it." Louis took a deep breath, conflicted about how to continue with what he had to say, especially as he stared into Alexia's judgmental eyes. "It was a very difficult time; the family was very conservative, and any sign of dissent was crushed mercilessly. Perhaps I was the biggest dissent that hit this family, and it cost us dearly."

"My marriage with Amélia was not a happy one. She was my jailer, always imposing, and never had time to give in to what I wanted to do. Love is a cruel art; not everyone can love another person or allow themselves to be loved." Louis sighed. He had been looking at his grandson most of the time, but he looked away to his daughter and reached for her hand in a gentle, affectionate squeeze. "Your mother never loved me, and she never even wanted me to love her, because she believed my love was a sick and sinful feeling. She would have killed herself if she knew I loved her."

"She resented your indifference, the way you prioritized work above all else," Alexia replied quickly, her voice uncertain despite the firmness of her accusation.

"No… You were too young to realize it, but I've tried to be a present husband to her. We have three daughters because I tried, but she could never get over the fact that I loved an equal like, in her view, God forbid."

"Dad." Alexia took a breath as if to stop her father from continuing to say what she most dreaded hearing.

"I loved a man so deeply that your mother swore she would never let me be happy. So religious, I'm sure she hopes she never finds me in the sweet paradise she is now."

He laughed as his daughter's eyes remained wide and her hands trembled. "Love is such a beautiful and fragile thing; it can make you happy forever, but it can also slowly kill you. I don't know if she thought my unhappiness stemmed from my marriage to her or the absence of it, but she basked in the joy of seeing me sad."

A silence stretched across the room, with no appropriate responses to Louis' confession. Nicolas' eyes were wide as Alexia let tears stream down her face, marked by lines of expression and stress.

What to say to her father after he confesses to having loved a man in his youth?

What to say to her father when he reveals he was married to a woman who hated him so deeply?

What did Louis want to hear from them?

"I don't want comfort, nor do I want to make up for being an absent father." He ran his wrinkled fingers through Alexia's tears, slowly wiping them away. "I want you to understand that the world is vast; there's no time for us to discriminate against the love of others, because there are people loving each other in different ways all over the world. Who are we to judge?" He took a deep breath, and Nicolas saw how conflicted he seemed about what to say next. "Your mother thought she was an immaculate saint, sent by God to erase my sins, but she forgot to fulfill the most important commandment in the Bible: Love your neighbor as yourself. She was never capable of that."

Alexia burst into tears, falling onto her father's shoulder, loud sobs escaping her mouth. Nicolas had never seen his mother like that, so desolate and broken, fragile and small.

The room was filled with the relentless sound of Alexia's years-long weeping. A lifetime of suffering with the image of Louis created by his fervently Catholic and sinful mother. How could he accept that his mother, that figure of immaculate holiness who had accompanied him his entire life, was nothing more than a lying hypocrite?

Alexia was no one to judge her mother, as she never tried to contradict what she told her daughters. However, she had such intrinsic ideals planted within her by this woman that it seemed impossible to nip them in the bud.

"Cry, my flower. Let this calm you," Louis whispered to her, and Nicolas couldn't hold back the tears welling up in his chest.

How could a family that prided itself on its unity be as distrustful and broken as they were? Nicolas leaned closer and accepted Louis' embrace, just as Alexia did.

The three of them spent countless minutes like that, hugging and crying, healing old pains in the warmth of their love.

There was no greater sin than denying family. That, Nicolas would never forget.

AUGUST/1978

It was Francesca's birthday, and as she loved her family so much, she invited the entire Ricci family to Wolves Solar. Cosima was giddy, almost dizzy with happiness about her daughter's 26th birthday, as well as her daughter's engagement to Harry Styles.

Despite Edgar's constant insistence, he was unable to marry his daughter into a family that partnered with their company. However, Harry managed to forge a path into the Ricci family's heart that was by his own credit.

This was the effect Harry Styles had on the lives of everyone he met. Louis couldn't deny it; he still felt the effects of him.

As Francesca's good friend, he and the Tomlinsons were invited to the celebration party as well, which would last the entire weekend. Vincent was extremely excited; it was his first spring as a married man, and he wanted to spend as much time as possible on his honeymoon with his beloved, Felicité Alcalde, now Tomlinson. 

“I found this wedding very strange,” Marieta kept saying every time she saw the two of them together. “It's as if the universe was playing a trick on sweet Felicité. Vincent, of all people? God bless her.”

Louis agreed that his brother could be quite the womanizer and complicated, but he seemed so in love that it was hard to imagine him making Felicité suffer.

Indeed, when everyone gathered at the Tomlinsons' grand home in the Wolves cabin, all that was on Louis' mind was the reason they were there.

Francesca's birthday and engagement. Her 26th birthday and engagement to Harry Styles.

Harry Styles, Louis' secret lover for two years now.

He knew the proposal was coming; even the couple informed him of it, as they were always completely transparent with Louis and didn't want to make the young man suffer. The purpose of the engagement wasn't to end what the three of them had, but the immense trust Harry and Francesca had in each other. Fran knew Harry would never cheat on her, she would never expose his sexuality or affections, nor would he look at her sideways for the expansive way she loved.

Where would Louis fit into all this? He wasn't sure, even after they both assured him that nothing would change, that Louis would continue to be Harry's boyfriend while Francesca also had relationships outside of Harry.

It was confusing in Louis' mind how anyone could love someone else with Harry by their side, but Francesca had always been a force of nature; trying to limit her was criminal in itself.

The relationship between the three of them ended about five months ago, when Fran admitted that she didn't feel completely adored by Louis and saw how deeply the two men loved each other. It wasn't sad or angry, but she seemed happy they had found each other.

"I don't want to lose the only person who understands me completely, understands my flaws, and loves them sincerely. You can continue your relationship, but I won't get involved anymore."

Three months later, Harry proposed, with a diamond ring that hurt to look at but looked perfect on the slender fingers of the Ricci, soon-to-be Styles.

A month after the proposal, Louis received his own ring, much more discreet and simple, more masculine yet delicate. It was a struggle to hide it from his parents, but as soon as Vincent saw the ring and looked at his brother's flushed cheeks, he spoke the harshest truth Louis had ever heard from his older brother.

"Live as you wish, Louis, but don't rub it in our parents' faces. The consequences would be more cruel than you're prepared to face."

Louis thought he was being quite discreet himself. He didn't tell his parents much about his affairs and always pleased them with his academic achievements, as he wanted to stay in Toronto after college, despite not being the moment to take over his father’s position.

Matilde and William seemed quite happy and satisfied with Louis' life choices. With Vincent's marriage now, then… They were living on cloud nine, so happy with the family's prosperity.

When they arrived at Wolves Solar, Marieta was already tidying up her room and greeted Louis with a tight hug, as did Vincent and Felicité.

"You took so long to get here this time! I almost thought you were coming here on foot."

"Don't be dramatic, Marieta," Vincent laughed, his arm around Felicité's waist and a relaxed smile on his face. "There was just a lot of traffic."

"Married life has done you good, Vince." Marieta winked at her cousin, who rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushed.

"You don't know how many times we've heard that in the last few months," Felicité said cheerfully, almost girlishly. She was so young, Marieta's age, and happily married to a successful man with a hefty inheritance waiting for him. It was every young woman's dream, but she seemed genuinely in love with Vincent.

"I can imagine! Vincent was a demon before this wedding."

Louis laughed at Marieta and watched the newlyweds go to Vincent's old room to settle in. Standing in the hallway, they didn't hesitate to go to Louis' room to chat while he unpacked his bags.

"So? How are you feeling?"

They were very good friends; Louis often says Marieta was his other half. So alike they were, despite their differences, they always got along so well…

That's why it didn't take long for her cousin to find out about Louis' relationship with Francesca and Harry. Even though she didn't know all the details, like how he and Harry were much more in love than himself and Francesca, or how Francesca was no longer part of the couple. Now it was just Louis and Harry, and Harry and Francesca. 

Marieta had no idea that Francesca was having other relationships while she was with Harry, but she knew Louis genuinely loved them both.

"Strange. It's like I'm missing a big event in my life, but I'll be there… I'm the best man at the wedding too!" 

"Oh, Louis… I can imagine how weird it must be, but they said they weren't going to break up with you, so it must be more of a ceremony since they've been together for a long time." She shrugged and began helping Louis unpack. There were only a few clothes for four days, but enough to fit them in the smaller closet he had in his room.

"They're going to Italy for their honeymoon." He took a deep breath, feeling a pang of embarrassment rise in his shoulders, and closed his eyes to avoid having to see Marieta's reaction. "They even invited me to go, but I thought it would be very inappropriate."

"What?!" Marieta exclaimed, her high-pitched voice piercing in the quiet room. She brought a hand to her mouth and walked over to Louis, pulling him onto the bed and holding his hands like a worried mother. "She said what?"

"Him. He called me first; I don't know if she knew about the invitation." 

"Oh my God…" Her eyes darted around the room, her thoughts racing as if she were trying to make sense of the entire situation. Even she, who was quite open-minded for the times they lived in, had trouble understanding Francesca and Harry. "And you said no? How did you manage?"

"I believe this is a moment for just the two of them. It's their honeymoon… I wouldn't want a third person there with me, no matter how much I loved them, if they weren't my partner…"

"That's right, it makes sense." She sighed, squeezing his hands, still in disbelief. "How audacious he was."

"I think so too! I didn't think I'd get that kind of invitation."

"Unbelievable, but now she must know all this too, right?"

"Oh, of course!" Louis swayed his feet with anxiety and nervousness. How could he remain calm knowing they were just hours away from celebrating Francesca's birthday and, in two days, her engagement dinner? "I brought them gifts."

"Of course you did…" She shook her head as if it were idiotic to think he wouldn't. "What?"

"A record collection from Latin America. Her curiosity has been getting the best of her. She won't stop talking about South America and how she wants to visit there."

"Great gift, I'm sure she'll love it." Marieta raised her eyebrow inquisitively and suspiciously. "And for Harry?"

"For him, I bought a cookbook from the East. He'd been telling me how much he wanted to learn about other cultures, and the sweets he tried in Lebanon a few years ago, before the Civil War, always caught his eye."

"I can't deny it; they are very thoughtful gifts that suit both of them well." She pulled Louis into a tight, lingering hug. "You're such a mature person, Louis, so loving too… I hope you stay that way for a long time, and if it's not forever with Francesca and Harry, that your next lover will be as special as you are."

"Thank you, Marie." Louis thanked her in surprise, his voice slightly choked, and he wrapped his arms around his cousin sentimentally.

The day passed quickly, amidst organizing and fond hugs, to the point that by evening, Louis was already exhausted and doing everything automatically. It wasn't easy to socialize with such lively people.

Each of them went to the Ricci house in turns. First the older ones, then the younger ones, simply because they were ready earlier or too late. Louis was always ready early, but he wanted to wait to go with his brother and cousin, as well as his sister-in-law.

Their conversation was calmer and more sincere, less formal and demanding, as it usually was with the parents.

The Ricci house was of unparalleled beauty, built with the intention of lasting hundreds of generations of the family. The same was true of the Tomlinson house, but the Riccis were more extravagant about it, spending a few extra bucks just to make it obvious in the house's front porch. 

Louis approached with the same trepidation he always felt when entering the house, not knowing what would happen next. Meanwhile, Marieta linked her arm through his, and they were greeted by Cosima with unparalleled enthusiasm.

"Come in, come in, children!" she said happily, gesturing and hugging each of them. "Everyone is in the living room. Giulia and your father, Felicité, are still to arrive."

"Oh! They'll be here soon, I'm sure… Dad doesn't like being late for gatherings." Louis and Marieta left them to talk and went into the living room, where they found their own parents, along with Edgar Ricci and other Ricci family members.

Francesca looked magnificent. It was spring, so despite the ever-present Canadian chill, she was able to wear a long floral dress that showed off her curves and her long, dark curls.

She was stunning, with a unique beauty that drew sighs wherever she went. She was not quite right in the head, stubborn and proud, but beautiful.

Harry was no slouch; he had a masculine beauty that was neither coarse nor suffocating, but present in just the right measure. Dressed in a suit with a floral blouse in the same pattern as Francesca's dress, the two were the perfect couple.

Louis couldn't help but feel jealous whenever he saw them wearing these outfits. The perfect couple, too perfect not to make even the happiest of couples envious.

He greeted Edgar with a firm handshake, as he knew he loved to receive, and walked over to the guests, opening his arms to welcome Francesca warmly.

"Happy birthday, Fran… I wish you all the best, you know." He wished her sincerely, whispering in her ear so only she could hear.

"Thank you, Loulou!" She pulled away from the hug and pressed her cheeks against his, wearing a serene smile and flushed cheeks.

"You look beautiful. As always." They both laughed, her playing coy, pretending to be embarrassed by the comment.

"That's what I told her, but she's always worried about her appearance."

Harry moved closer, one hand on Francesca's waist and the other on Louis'.

Smelling Harry after so many months was a completely different experience than before, even though it was the same perfume as always. The same addictive scent as so.

"Good night, Styles." Louis said seriously, his eyes firm, trying hard not to let his hands shake.

Harry opened his arms to welcome him in a hug, and Louis shamefully didn't even resist before going to him. "It's so good to see you, Lou. It's been a long time."

"In a suit, no less, it's been too long since I've seen you two." He glanced between them; there were too many people in the room for them to be affectionate with each other without arousing suspicion.

Louis stepped away, while Harry put his arm around Francesca again, an act of possessiveness that greatly pleased the woman's parents.

"They're all here!" Cosima announced, entering the room with the Alcaldes, Felicité, and Vincent. "We can have dinner now, so it doesn't get cold."

It was sad to admit, but the three of them saw each other more at Wolves Solar than outside. Their busy lives, whether with work or finishing college, didn't always allow time to travel to each other's hometowns.

Louis didn't like this, mainly because they couldn't show their affection as they wanted. He was always left out when he was with their families, precisely. He wasn't the one dating Francesca; it was Harry.

Spending so much time with their families created restrictions and trauma in the dynamics between the three of them. Louis understood that this could happen and didn't see a problem with it, but that didn't mean he wasn't bothered.

He wanted to be able to live freely with the other two without feeling like he was going against a universal and oppressive truth that lived freely within his mind. He grew tired of catching himself thinking about how wrong everything they did and felt was, while simultaneously being so happy every time he was with the couple.

It was a conflicted relationship, a fundamental basis for contradictory thoughts, and a guilt that wouldn't fit.

He could have been projecting much of his feelings, especially when he realized his parents weren't okay with the lifestyle he secretly lived. But there was nothing he could do. He was too deeply involved to avoid the catastrophic whirlwind that awaited him.

Dinner proceeded calmly, filled with laughter from everyone present. Francesca shone in the spotlight, the most enthusiastic birthday girl ever.

Louis was quieter than usual, shyly keeping to his seat at the table, seemingly avoiding attention at all costs. He really didn't want anyone to pay him much attention that weekend, but no one would understand why.

As everyone began to say goodbye to leave, Fran invited him to stay longer and join them in the Ricci family's saloon in the shopping center. Louis quickly agreed, without showing much enthusiasm so Marieta wouldn't notice they were planning to leave.

"I'll go anyway. We'll meet there in half an hour?" He asked, hugging his friend.

"Sure, let's wait about ten minutes until we start counting." She laughed, pulling away from the hug with that mischievous smile that took up half her striking face. "Now, bring blankets. It gets pretty cold there at night, you know."

And so Louis did, arriving at the Tomlinson house and putting on more comfortable clothes to spend the night in the living room with Harry and Francesca, just like the day it all began.

All the family wished him goodnight, and he pretended to go to sleep. Fifteen minutes passed before he dared leave the room to go to the front door.

Louis is a quiet man, very cheerful and full of friends, but succinct when he needs to be, with a light walk and calm breathing. When he wants to, he can scare anyone, because no one expects to see him arrive.

However, it's no wonder he knows how to behave this way. He has the greatest role model right next to him.

As soon as he sets foot on the last step of the stairs, avoiding where he knows the aged wood creaks, a call comes from the living room.

"Louis." Calls his father, William, in a deep, sleepy voice.

Unexpectedly, Louis' heart starts pounding nervously. He doesn't quite understand why, but it should; everything involving Harry makes him race, and he’s almost late for their encounter.

Maybe he should go see a doctor to check it out.

"Dad," he says softly, heading toward the living room and stopping by the door. "Still awake?"

"I've been having trouble sleeping lately," William sighs heavily. Louis can see his silhouette in the darkness of the room. "Open the curtain and sit with your father."

Louis complies with the request made in an imperative tone. Even though he was a very tolerant person, his father was still dominant and direct, expecting everyone to obey him.

"Want to talk?" Louis asks. He wants to get out of there and meet the newly engaged couple; he doesn't feel any good energy coming from his father. 

"Yes, I believe so…" William murmured and looked at Louis, who was already getting used to the darkness and could see his father's features better. Conflicted and frowning, the older man asked, "Louis, be honest with me, have you and Miss Ricci ever had anything romantic going on between you?"

Knowing his father as Louis did, he shouldn't have expected any beatings or backbiting on the subject. If William wanted to know something, he would ask directly.

Louis took a deep breath, controlling himself from widening his eyes in surprise. "No, me and her are just good friends."

"Hm." Without looking the least bit convinced, William studied Louis' features as best he could in the dark and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "I've been talking to your mother. We know you visited her a lot in Vancouver and you never told us anything." 

"I-I…" He cursed himself internally for stuttering and being so careless. Obviously, his parents would know he hadn't been in Toronto all this time and wouldn't be visiting them. "I've gotten quite close to her these past few years, you know that."

"Of course we know, but we don't understand how that boy lets you visit her so much. They're engaged now," William let out a sigh laden with sarcasm. "Your mother and I thought she'd break up with him and you'd get together when we found out you were visiting her."

"No, dad." Louis sighed heavily, shaking his head as if it were all some kind of crazy idea on his part. "I'm also friends with Harry; we're good friends, so I don't think he's worried about Francesca and me."

"It's the only explanation why he still allows such a… close friendship between you two."

"Dad, it's normal for men and women to be friends. Just because she's a woman doesn't mean I'm interested in her." Louis allowed himself a chuckle, hearing the older man's derisive snort.

"I'm sorry if we had this more clearly defined back then." William lay back on the sofa, looking more relaxed than when Louis had found him ten minutes ago.

"You don't have to worry; I haven't found the person who's captured my heart yet."

Oh… What a lie that statement is. Louis firmly believed that Harry would be his true love for life. They'd known each other for over a year and already shared so much in common, knowing every intimate detail, from the physical to the mental.

It would be crazy to say that Louis didn't love him. Harry is the same.

"I know…" William reached his hand up to Louis' hair and ruffled it slightly before slapping his hands on his thighs and standing up with a deep yawn. "Well, don't worry too much; I have plenty of women to introduce you to who would be ideal for you."

The shock of the sentence silenced Louis completely, leaving him speechless and without a response to his father, who walked quickly to the hallway.

"Good night, son. Take a shower before breakfast tomorrow; you young people don't realize how much joint smoke smells." William laughed at the comment and went upstairs to the master suite.

Everything went dark for Louis, who lay on the sofa with his mouth open.

Women to introduce him? What did his father mean by that? That he was going to marry Louis off to someone?

These questions troubled him long enough for Francesca and Harry to come after him, who knows how long after the agreed time.

The light knock on the door was the first sign, partially rousing Louis from the stupor his father had put him in. However, it was only with Harry's call from near the living room window that Louis turned his eyes to the worried couple on the other side.

"Lou, come on!" Harry whispered and tapped twice on the glass. Francesca's brows were furrowed and her lips pressed together, revealing her confusion.

Louis got up slowly and went to the front door, carefully unlocking it and stepping outside without the blankets he had laid out earlier.

He must have been pale, because the other two looked at him in alarm and quickly came toward him.

"Lou?"

"My father wants me to marry a woman.”