Archive of Our Own ^beta

            Harry hadn’t dreamt about him in a while. Like, at least a year, but probably more like two. And, really, it’d been almost thirteen years since Harry had seen him so he should have forgotten his face by now, right? Of course, maybe he had. The face he saw in his dream was just how Harry remembered it but it likely wasn’t entirely accurate, especially after this many years.

            “Ugh,” Harry muttered, rolling over onto his stomach and wondering why he was awake at the ungodly hour of-

            Oh. 12:42 PM.

            “Fucking tequila,” he sighed.

            “I know, right?”

            Harry screamed, sitting up so quickly that his head spun and his stomach lurched. Of course, that probably had more to do with the tequila.

            “Wha-”

            Harry scrambled to cover himself with his bed sheet (and why was he sleeping naked? It was fucking freezing) while his home intruder laughed.

            “Bit late for that, honey. I’ve already seen everything.”

            Harry narrowed his eyes as the body belonging with the voice exited his master bathroom, a smirk on his face, and now Harry wondered how he hadn’t placed it before.

            “Liam?!” Harry asked, and now he really was about to be sick. He slept with Liam?! His stepbrother’s fiancé?!

            “Good morning!” Liam greeted cheerfully; apparently not feeling an ounce of the guilt that Harry was feeling.

            “Oh my god,” Harry breathed, making a beeline for the bathroom and tripping over a body lying on the ground in his bathroom; Zayn, his stepbrother.

            “Wha-What?” Harry asked, swallowing the bit of bile that had risen in his throat.

            “I knew I shouldn’t have let you two go out on your own,” Liam commented, an amused twinkle in his eye. “Neither one of you remember a thing, do you?”

            “I remember taking my seventh shot,” Zayn groaned from the ground. “After that, I don’t remember anything until I threw up in one of Harry’s vases.”

            “And then called me crying about it,” Liam added, endeared. Honestly, these two were nauseating.

            Harry cleared his throat and squeezed his right thumb. He’d read somewhere that was supposed to help nausea. So far, it wasn’t really working.

            “And,” Harry said, and then hiccupped. After a moment in which Liam visibly distanced himself from his future brother-in-law, Harry continued, “And where was I during this?”

            “I’m not certain but when I arrived, you were passed out in your entryway, so probably there,” Liam said. “I kind of hit you in the head with the door when I came in, so I’m sorry about that.”

            “‘S okay,” Harry muttered, sitting on the edge of his tub. Suddenly remembering he was naked, he covered himself with the shower curtain, though it was certainly pointless by then. “But what were you doing over here anyway? Not that I mind, I just thought you’d gone to bed early.”

            Harry and Zayn had gone out the previous night to celebrate the start of Winter break. Harry, a history teacher at the local secondary school, had been eagerly awaiting the break since about the fifth week of school, though probably not as much as Zayn, who was in his last year of veterinary school. Liam, as well as the trio’s friend Niall, had been invited as well, but Niall was recovering from a sinus infection and Liam wanted to go to bed early so he could get up early and start preparing for the group’s upcoming vacation that they were scheduled to leave for tomorrow. 

            Zayn looked like he might still be hungover tomorrow, though Harry wasn’t faring much better.

            Answering Harry’s question, Liam said, “I really couldn’t sleep without knowing Zayn made it home safely, and when he called, crying about the whole vomiting-in-the-vase situation, it was clear he was wasted. I asked where you were, and he suddenly thought he’d left you at the club, so I came on over. Found you in the entryway, like I said, and then found Zayn on your kitchen floor. I got you both to bed-just put both of you in your bed, Harry, to keep a better eye on you-and, well, here we are!”

            “You’re amazing, Liam,” Harry sighed, meaning it. “I’m sorry that I was so horrified when I thought we had sex.”

            “What?!” Liam and Zayn both shouted, causing Harry to wince at the pain in his head and Zayn to crawl to the toilet once again, though all he managed were painful sounding dry heaves. Liam began rubbing his fiancé’s back but kept his gaze on Harry.

            “Why did you think we had sex?”

            “Well, I heard a man speaking from my bathroom-couldn’t tell it was you-and woke up naked. Why was I naked? Why am I still naked?”

            Liam laughed, shaking his head as Zayn collapsed onto the floor once again.

            “I don’t know why you’re still naked,” he said, “but you, um, kind of got sick on yourself a bit last night-my fault, I made you stand too fast-and so I was going to help you change but while I searched for some pajamas for you to wear, you threw your boxers off and said, ‘Leave me be, Liam; I’m a free man.’”

            “Jesus Christ, I’m never drinking again.”

            “Me neither,” Zayn whined from the ground.

            “Thanks for coming to the rescue though, Li,” Harry said. “Z…are you able to get to the half bath so I can shower, or…?”

            “I guess,” Zayn said. “There’s nothing left to expel anyway, I fear.”

            Liam gently helped his fiancé to his feet-perhaps having learned his lesson with Harry last night or maybe just because he was always extra gentle with Zayn-told Harry to shout if he needed anything, then led Zayn to another room, leaving Harry alone to shower. Harry ended up opting for a bath instead, his legs too shaky to hold him for long, and once the tub was full, he leaned back with a hot washcloth over his face and closed his eyes, definitely not thinking of pretty blue eyes.

            When Harry exited the bathroom about thirty minutes later, he smelled the heavenly scent of eggs and bacon and made his way into the kitchen, suddenly famished even around the lingering nausea. Zayn and Liam were sitting at the table, near empty plates in front of them. Zayn looked marginally better though was still markedly pale.

            “How was your bath?” Liam asked, a smile on his face, as Harry entered the kitchen.

            “Fine. Good,” Harry returned.

            “Glad to hear it. There’s a plate made up for you in the microwave. Hopefully you don’t mind that I cooked.”

            “Mind? Liam, if you weren’t engaged to my brother-and I didn’t feel and, probably, taste like death right now-I would kiss you.”

            “He is pretty amazing,” Zayn sighed, gazing at Liam with dreamy, bloodshot eyes and absently nibbling on a piece of toast.

            “The best,” Harry agreed, managing to smile through his misery.

            Liam, who worked for a construction company, helping to build new homes, met Zayn when Zayn was contracted through his company to help paint. Zayn had been in his second year of school, which was his main job. He’d been rooming with Harry at the time, and although Harry wouldn’t have minded supporting him while he studied, Zayn often took up contracting work so he could sometimes give Harry a little bit of money to buy groceries. Before Liam, Zayn had never been the type to let others take care of him.

            Harry had known Liam would be good for Zayn the first time Zayn introduced them, after their third date. Of course, it went both ways. Liam had been shy and somewhat of a pushover when he and Zayn first got together, but Zayn had always been careful not to take advantage of that. Now, although Liam was still the most nurturing of the group, he had formed a newfound confidence and, with it, a backbone. Zayn made sure that no one ever took advantage of Liam’s kindness again while Liam ensured Zayn was always cared for, even when Zayn sometimes didn’t care for himself.

            “Sorry we’ve made you have a late start to your day,” Harry apologized to his future brother-in-law once he’d taken (and savored) a few bites of his food. “I think I’ll be okay after I finish eating and brush my teeth, so whatever you need help with today, just say the word.”

            “That’s okay. You just worry about getting yourself all packed and ready to go!” Liam said.

            “Yeah, I suppose I do need to do a few loads of laundry,” Harry admitted. “Don’t want to wear the same three outfits for eight days.”

            “The cabin has a washer and dryer if needed,” Liam said.

            “Good to know,” Harry noted.

            “Make sure you have something semi-nice for tomorrow though,” Zayn interjected. “We’re going to have a little birthday dinner for Louis.”

            “Louis?”

            “Yeah. Louis. My best mate. You’ve met him a couple times, you might remember?”

            Harry narrowed his eyes, thinking that Zayn looked too ill to have that smirk on his face.

            “I am aware of who Louis is,” Harry said flatly. “I am also aware that he hates me.”

            “He doesn’t hate you,” Liam offered.

            “Not anymore, though he still doesn’t like you much,” Zayn supplied helpfully. Harry made a throaty sound of protest that had Liam about to duck for cover although Harry knew that Zayn was correct (although if Louis didn’t hate him anymore, it would be progress.)

            “Thank you, Zayn,” Harry said starkly. “You know, I actually think I’m coming down with something. You lot can go on without me.”

            “No,” Liam and Zayn said at the same time.

            “You’re coming, you’re just hungover right now,” Zayn added.

            “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming before?” Harry asked, trying not to sound whiny but not sure he succeeded. Zayn shrugged.

            “I honestly forgot. He said he couldn’t come at first but sent me a text a few days ago saying his plans changed and he’s able to come now.”

            “Oh, joy.”

            It was Zayn’s turn to narrow his eyes.

            “Come on, Haz. You’re going on twenty-eight and he’s about to be thirty. You can both be mature about this.”

            “I’ll be mature about it!” Harry said in a voice that didn’t sound necessarily ‘mature.’ “Doesn’t mean I’m excited about it.”

            “He asks about you sometimes,” Liam piped in.

            “Does he?” Harry asked, shocked and, yes, somewhat touched.

            “Every now and then, just to see if you’re doing all right.”

            “That’s…nice of him.”

            Harry had never asked how Louis was doing, simply because he didn’t feel like he had the right. Besides, Zayn talked about him enough for Harry to at least know he was still alive, living somewhere in America; Nevada, he thought. There’d been something about Vegas at some point, at least.

            “Anyway, he’s coming with his boyfriend,” Zayn said, putting slight emphasis on the last word, “and you’re coming too, Harry, and it will all be fine.”

            Boyfriend. Louis had a boyfriend. Well, of course he did. Louis always had a way of captivating people. After all, Harry was still dreaming about him over a decade later, and he’d been nothing to Louis except Zayn’s annoying little brother.

            That was, until he became the guy that ruined Louis’s life.

            God, why did Harry’s dad have to surprise Zayn’s mom with a cruise for Christmas? At least with one that was actually on Christmas? Lena had been trying to get Edward to take her on a cruise for as long as Harry could remember, so why now? And why did Liam’s parents go with them? It was weird how close the in-laws were, Harry thought, but more importantly, if the cruise wasn’t a thing, the parents would be home spending Christmas with their children, and Liam’s mom and dad would have rented out their cabin, meaning he and Zayn would never have dreamed up the pre-bachelor, Christmas-New Years’ trip, and Harry would still be living in a world where he didn’t know Louis Tomlinson had a boyfriend and that he sometimes asked about him.

            And also a world where he wasn’t going to have to face him.

            Zayn and Louis had known each other from the time they were four years old. Lena had left Zayn’s father when the boy had been two and met and married Harry’s father when Zayn was seven. Harry had been five at the time, his mother having passed away when he was just under a year old, and he’d been thrilled with his new family. Zayn, not so much.

            Harry had looked up to Zayn from the day they met, but Zayn, angry at having been pulled away from his home, school, and friends, hadn’t wanted much to do with him until they were older. Still, Zayn wasn’t cruel to him, at least not usually, and he let Harry hang around him sometimes, even if he was quite vocal about not wanting to. As he got older and made his own friends, Harry stopped wanting to hang around with his stepbrother so much unless, of course, his brother’s friend Louis was there.

            Louis, much like Zayn, often rolled his eyes at everything Harry said and did, but he’d never protested when Harry asked to join them in playing football (despite Harry having two left feet), going to the park, or, really, tag along for whatever he and Zayn were getting up to. Louis went to a different school-Zayn’s old school-but he still came over almost every weekend (except for the one weekend a month where Zayn would visit his dad) and spent all of summer break with them every year. Harry didn’t understand it when he was younger (not that he minded either way) but once, when he was around eleven, he’d overheard his dad talking to Zayn’s mom about ‘not wanting to send Louis back there’ and wondering if they could get guardianship over him. Harry never did find out what that was all about, but Louis went home as usual at the end of the summer and didn’t come back again for a few months. Though Harry had been young, he was old enough and smart enough to figure that Louis’s home life must not have been very good, and during the months he wasn’t around, Harry would frequently ask Zayn how Louis was, where he was, and when he’d be coming over again.

            “Why do you care about him so much? Are you gay or something?” Zayn had asked, which was ironic (and true), though Harry hadn’t known it at the time. It wasn’t until he heard Louis’s loud, boisterous laugh wake him up one Saturday in November and he ran down the stairs to find his brother’s friend bent over, petting the family dog, and Harry’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest and his stomach started doing somersaults, that Harry realized that maybe he was a little gay and maybe he had a tiny, itty-bitty crush on Louis Tomlinson.

            “Oh, hey, Curly,” Louis had greeted when he stood up straight again. “Nice pajamas.”

            Harry had known Louis was taking the piss out of him, but he didn’t care. Had Louis’s eyes always been that beautiful color?

            “Hey, Blue. Lou. Louis,” Harry stammered, and, one eyebrow quirking up, Louis laughed.

            “Zayn, I think your brother’s broken.”

            “Go back to bed, weirdo,” Zayn said to Harry, ruffling his hair as he passed him. Louis followed, and Harry was delighted when he decided to ruffle up his curls as well.

            And then, three years later, Harry had gone and fucked everything up.

            Liam tried to stay and help clean up the breakfast dishes, but insisting he’d done more than enough, Harry politely kicked him and Zayn out. He wanted with all his heart to go back to bed, but somehow, he simply medicated himself and went about with his laundry and packing.

            Finally, just before seven that night, Harry’s laundry was done and his bags were packed, besides the things he would need before leaving in the morning, like his toothbrush. Proud, he sent a picture to Liam, who quickly replied with a picture of his and Zayn’s bags, already by the front door, with the message, ‘Good job!!!’

            If it were anyone else, Harry would read that passive aggressively, but it was Liam, and Harry could clearly visualize the proud smile on his future brother-in-law’s face.

            Thinking that he deserved to make it an early night, Harry washed up and was about to crawl into bed when his mattress started ringing. Blinking, startled, Harry glanced at his hand to make sure that he was, in fact, still holding his phone. He was, so, digging through the mess of blankets on his bed, Harry found the source of the ringing to be Zayn’s phone. More alarming than that was the name shining up at Harry from the screen: Lou Tommo.

            Barely breathing, Harry stared at the phone, internally debating on whether he should answer or not. What if Louis had an important question about tomorrow? What if he needed picked up from the airport? What if he was canceling?

            Although he’d vaguely threatened not to go on the trip earlier to avoid seeing Louis, now that the idea had simmered in the back of his mind, Harry couldn’t pretend that his chest didn’t feel heavy with disappointment at the thought that it might not happen after all. Even if Louis looked at him like he was the scum of the Earth, Harry wanted to see him.

            The phone stopped ringing, the sudden silence bringing Harry back to reality. It was a good thing he hadn’t answered, really. It wouldn’t be fair to Louis to think he was calling his best friend only to be shocked by the voice of the man who had apparently ruined his life.

            Of course, Louis probably wouldn’t even recognize Harry’s voice anymore (it was quite a bit deeper than the last time they’d spoken), but still.

            Deciding to send a short text instead, Harry quickly typed, with shaking fingers,

            ‘Hey, this is Harry. Zayn passed out at my place last night and apparently left his phone.’

            Harry didn’t expect Louis to reply-or didn’t expect it to be a pleasant one if so-but still, he stared at the phone until a text from ‘Lou Tommo’ came in.

            ‘Haha, yikes. I bet he’s had a fun day…Okay, I’ll call Liam. Thanks, Harry.’

            Harry shouldn’t say anything to that-didn’t need to-but he found himself typing out, ‘You’re welcome’ anyway.

            It came as no surprise that the blue-eyed boy starred in his dream again that night.

            Liam told Harry that he would arrive to pick him up at 8:45 sharp, so of course he showed up, Zayn in tow, at 8:07 the next morning. Luckily, Harry had expected this and was waiting with his bags and thermos of coffee when they arrived. Ever the diva (and not a morning person), Zayn waited in the car while Liam helped Harry get his luggage out of the house and into the trunk of his car.

            “‘Morning,” Harry greeted his brother as he climbed into the spacious backseat. To his credit, Zayn offered a smile, looking much more alive than the day before.

            “You have something for me?” Zayn asked, turning in his seat and craning his neck to look at Harry.

            “Here you go,” Harry said, taking the other’s phone out of his hoodie pocket and handing it over. “All charged up and everything.”

            “You’re the best,” Zayn said, facing the front again and scrolling through his phone as Liam began the drive to his parents’ mountain cabin.

            “Oh, shit, Louis called,” Zayn hissed, but before he could call him back, Liam spoke up.

            “He got a hold of me, don’t worry.”

            “What’d he want? Everything okay?”

            “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it, babe.”

            “He’s still coming, right?”

            “Yeah, definitely.”

            “And John?”

            “Who?”

            “John. The boyfriend.”

            “That was, like, one or two boyfriends ago, Zaynie.”

            “Then what’s his current boyfriend’s name?!” Zayn asked, sounding slightly hysterical.

            “Umm…”

            Liam hesitated.

            “Jonah?”

            “Pretty sure Jonah was before John.”

            “Sam?”

            “What? No. It’s definitely not Sam.”

            Both were quiet for another minute or so, thinking.

            “Jacob?” Liam suggested.

            “No.”

            “Justin?”

            “No, I don’t think so.”

            Another stretch of silence, and then both fiancés shouted at the same time.

            “Joaquin!” Liam said, while Zayn yelled,

            “Joey!”

            “Wait, what?” Liam said, he and Zayn glancing at each other.

            “Both of those feel right,” Zayn said, stressed again.

            “Maybe Joaquin goes by Joey?” Harry suggested.

            “Why would someone with a cool name like Joaquin go by Joey?” Zayn asked.

            “I dunno,” Harry said, “but Louis sure likes those ‘J’ names, doesn’t he?”

            “The ‘J’ names and Sam,” Liam said.

            “I’m pretty sure there was never a Sam,” Zayn replied.

            “There was at least a one-night stand named Sam,” Liam insisted.

            “Whatever you say, dearest,” Zayn returned, leaning across the seat to put a loud kiss on Liam’s cheek. Shaking his head, Harry said,

            “Are we going to play some music, or do I just have to listen to you two word-vomit love poems the whole drive? I used to get car sick, by the way, so just keep that in mind.”

            “Oh, yeah!” Liam said, suddenly excited. “I made a playlist for this trip!” Tapping Zayn three times on the arm, Liam added, “Put it on, baby, please? It’s called ‘Cabin Croons.’”

            Zayn snorted.

            “I fucking love you, you adorable, sexy angel of a man.”

            Harry hadn’t gotten carsick since he’d been a teenager, but he also hadn’t been a passenger during a multi-hour drive since then. He didn’t actually get sick on the way to the cabin, but he grew queasy, particularly as Liam circled their way up the mountain, and he hopped out of the car before they were even fully stopped, his legs nearly giving out from under him.

            “You alright?” Zayn asked, his eyebrows pulled together in concern after he’d safely and gracefully exited the parked vehicle.

            “Fine,” Harry assured him with a stiff smile. Nodding, Zayn squeezed the back of Harry’s neck comfortingly before popping Liam’s trunk and beginning to unload the vehicle.

            “What time are we expecting everyone else?” Harry asked after all the bags had been taken inside and the guys kicked their shoes off. Zayn collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, like he’d been the one to drive over four hours, while Liam took inventory of the fridge and cupboards, answering Harry as he did so.

            “Niall should be here in an hour or so, but Louis and Joaquin/Joey/Sam aren’t coming until around four or five.”

            “Oh. Okay.”

            “The food supply is more dire than I thought,” Liam announced. “I’d assumed, when my mum said there was ‘some’ food, she’d meant more than Cheerios and milk that expires tomorrow.”

            “Give her a break, she’s had a lot on her plate,” Zayn said with a yawn, stretching as he sat up. “Let me piss and wash my face, and I’ll go to the store with you.”

            “Someone needs to stay for Niall,” Liam pointed out.

            “I will,” Harry offered right away, not in any hurry to get into a car again. “I’ll send you some money for the groceries, but I’ll stay and wait for Niall.”

            “You don’t need to send any money,” Liam said, waving the thought off. “Anything you want me to pick up for you?”

            “Not particularly. I’ll eat whatever.”

            “Slut,” Zayn commented easily, rising to his feet. Harry kicked his bottom lightly. Zayn laughed.

            “Feel free to choose whichever room you want,” Liam offered.

            “Not the one with the see-through shower, though,” Zayn amended. “You’re too single for that.”

            “Save the see-through shower for Louis and the Js. And Sam. Got it.”

            “Louis wishes,” Zayn said, eyeing Liam, who was making a grocery list, oblivious to the fact that his fiancé looked like he was about to eat him. Harry hurried off to pick a room.  

            The cabin had three bedrooms upstairs, two downstairs, and two in the basement. Wanting to stay far away from Zayn, Liam, and the see-through shower, he chose one in the basement, figuring Niall, who, despite being one of the nicest people Harry had ever met, became anxious after too much human interaction, would take the other.

            Harry was just getting settled on the couch after unpacking his bags (because, yes, Harry was the type to put his clothes away, even on vacation) when there was a knock on the cabin door.

            “Oi!” an Irish accent called out, even while knocking. “Is anyone there?! It’s freezing balls out here!”

            “Coming!” Harry shouted back, hurrying to open the door for his friend. When he did, he was greeted with a smile.

            “Thanks, mate!” Niall said, shivering as he hurried into the cabin, leaving Harry to get his bag from the stoop and haul it in. He didn’t mind, though. Niall continued, “I didn’t see anyone’s car and got worried for a sec.”

            “Sorry about that. Liam and Zayn had to run to the store for groceries.”

            “Does that mean we have no food?!”

            “There’s Cheerios and nearly expired milk,” Harry offered. Niall wrinkled his nose.

            “I’d rather starve to death.”

            While they waited for the fiancés to return, Harry and Niall put on a movie for background noise but mostly talked. Niall, who’d started off as Zayn and, thus, Louis’s friend, had grown closer to Harry as adults, since, for a time, he’d been a science teacher at the same school Harry worked at. A couple years ago, Niall had upgraded his nerd card and was now a microbiologist for a prestigious university just outside of London. He also claimed to have a girlfriend, though Harry had never met her. Apparently, she was also from Ireland and had chosen to spend the holidays back at home. When asked why he hadn’t gone, Niall had simply replied, “Four months is much too soon to meet the family over Christmas dinner, Harry.” When asked why he hadn’t gone to at least see his own family, he’d simply shrugged said the ‘bro trip’ sounded better. Harry had kindly not torn Niall to shreds by his unironic use of the phrase ‘bro trip.’

            When Liam and Zayn returned with food and a heavy supply of alcohol, Niall immediately cracked a beer and helped Zayn put away groceries while Liam went upstairs to unpack (Liam was also, unsurprisingly, the type to utilize the dressers and closets on vacation.) Harry offered to help, but no one claimed to need him so, with a shrug, he continued half-heartedly watching the film while scrolling through his phone, wondering when Louis was going to get there.

            Finally, just after four o’ clock, the group heard a car door close and voices outside.

            “Louis!” Zayn exclaimed, jumping up and running to the front door, flinging it open as if Louis were someone famous and Zayn was his number one fan boy.

            “Zayn!” Louis called in much the same way. Harry couldn’t help but to smile to himself a little. He was glad that, even though Louis had moved out of the country at eighteen, he and Zayn remained close. Once a year, Louis would find his way back home and Zayn would visit the other in America. The two had monthly Zoom visits as well.

            Harry heard three pairs of footsteps enter (or re-enter, Zayn having run out to presumably tackle his best friend) but Harry didn’t turn to greet them, his hands suddenly clammy and his mouth dry. Liam got up to help the newcomers with their coats and luggage, and Niall said a lazy hello from the couch.

            “Okay; introductions then, yeah?” Louis spoke again after a minute or so, and slowly, Harry turned, trying to brace himself, yet he still felt breathless when he found Louis looking at him, the blue of his eyes noticeable even from a distance. Louis had aged, obviously, but he still looked good; great, even. His hair, previously styled in a side-swoop, was a bit longer now, but off his forehead, for the most part. Only a couple stray strands hung down, the better to show off his face. He had a bit of facial hair now and a few fine lines by his eyes, which Harry only noticed later, when closer to the man, though they didn’t detract from his looks either. Louis was thin-thinner than he’d been as a teen (though he’d never been fat), which made his high cheekbones even more prominent.

            Obviously unaware of Harry’s internal crisis, Louis began the introductions.

            “Lads, this is my boyfriend, Joey. Joey, these are the lads.”

            Pointing to each as he said their names, Louis continued, “That’s Zayn, my best mate, and his lovely fiancé, Liam. That’s Niall, a friend from school, and then there’s Zayn’s stepbrother, Harry.”

            ‘The prick that ruined my life,’ Harry had expected Louis to add, but he didn’t. The group exchanged ‘nice to meet yous’ and then Liam led Joey and Louis away to pick their room. By some misfortune, Niall hadn’t chosen the second basement bedroom, and the new couple picked it instead.

            Soon, Zayn started preparing Louis’s birthday dinner. He was making some chicken and rice casserole recipe of his mom’s that had been Louis’s favorite when they were younger, and feeling as if he were going to suffocate in the living room with the rest of the group (despite the fact that there was plenty of room), Harry helped. The kitchen was close enough to keep up conversation with the others, but Harry mostly tuned them all out.

            “Hey.”

            Harry startled, nearly dropping the pan he was putting in the oven as Zayn touched his lower back.

            “Sorry,” his brother apologized, “but just relax, yeah?”

            “I’m fine,” Harry insisted. Zayn gave him a look like he didn’t believe him, but then flitted off to start preparing the side dishes.

            “You really didn’t have to do this,” Louis said once dinner was ready and they all took a seat at the long dining table, Zayn adorning his best friend’s head with a Santa hat that said ‘Birthday Bitch’ on the white, fluffy part.

            “We wanted to,” Zayn assured him as Liam snapped a picture on his phone. Louis’s cheeks were a little pink, which Harry noted before concentrating on his plate.

            “All right, who wants champagne?” Zayn asked the group.

            “Shouldn’t we save the champagne for New Years Eve?” Niall asked, then added, “Not that Louis’s birthday isn’t a cause for celebration.”

            “We have plenty,” Liam assured him. “We can always run back to the store and grab some more if needed.”

            “Maybe not,” Joey commented. Something about Joey and his high-lighted, perfectly styled hair and fashionable name-brand clothes and cold brown eyes rubbed Harry the wrong way, though so far, he thought he’d done a pretty good job of not showing it.

            “Why not?” Liam asked, a small frown on his face even as Zayn popped the first bottle of champagne and began to serve everyone.

            “We’re supposed to get a snowstorm within the next couple of days. If it gets as bad as they say, we might not be able to make it down the mountain until after the first.”

            “What?” Niall asked, his eyes wide.

            “I hadn’t heard that,” Liam said.

            “It’s just what they said earlier,” Joey shrugged. Niall began guzzling his alcohol.

            “It might not even happen,” Zayn offered nonchalantly. “The weather people are always getting people all scared and worked up for nothing. Either way, we’ll have plenty of champagne, especially if Lou isn’t drinking.”

            “You’re not drinking?!” Niall asked, nearly snapping his neck to look at Louis. He seemed more horrified taking in his friend’s empty champagne glass than he had at the prospect of getting snowed in at a cabin on the top of a mountain. Louis gave a small laugh, taking a sip of his water before answering.

            “No, not for the time being. I’m on a cleanse.”

            “But…it’s your birthday! And Christmas Eve! And Christmas! And New Years! And vacation! Your ‘cleanse’ couldn’t wait?!”

            Still smiling, Louis explained,

            “I’ve been overindulging a bit too much lately and was starting to feel pretty shitty, honestly.”

            Teasingly, he added, “Sorry to disappoint you, Ni.”

            With a shrug, Niall said, “I’m not disappointed, but I am glad I’m not Joey or Harry, who have to share a bathroom with you. A ‘cleanse,’ Jesus fucking Christ.”

            “Shut up!” Louis laughed loudly, but cut the sound short after Joey lightly touched his wrist, and really; who the fuck was this guy?

            Once the guys finished with dinner, Harry stood to help Zayn carry the dirty dishes to the sink and serve dessert. When he took Louis’s plate from him, their fingers brushed and Harry damn near dropped the stack of plates.

            “Thank you,” Louis said softly, offering up a small smile that, again, made Harry’s mouth go dry.

            “Sure,” he managed.

            Harry only had one more glass of champagne for dessert (not ‘with’ dessert-Harry didn’t eat sugar too much), leaving him the second most sober. Once the kitchen was cleaned up, Zayn insisted they all go to the basement to play pool or ping-pong. Joey claimed that he was the ping-pong pro, so Zayn put him to the test while Liam kept score and Niall yelled at Zayn for being ‘epically awful,’ though he really wasn’t doing that bad. Joey was just truly skilled in the game. Not quite matching the others’ energy, Louis and Harry sat off to the side on stools that they’d pulled out from the Paynes’ downstairs bar. Louis was sipping on cucumber water, watching the game with a small smile on his face. Harry spent his time redirecting his attention from Louis to the game.

            “So,” Louis spoke after around five minutes of Harry struggling. Harry startled, feeling as if he’d been busted staring, and became very interested in his fingernails. “How’ve you been, Harry?”

            “Huh?” Harry asked, glancing up but looking quickly back down because he was not yet emotionally strong enough to see Louis’s pretty eyes and face that close up. “Oh, I’ve been fine. Good. How about you?”

            “Good,” Louis replied simply. “When’d you hit your growth spurt?”

            Harry couldn’t help it and a (somewhat frantic) laugh escaped from his mouth.

            “What?!”

            “You’re tall now. Like, really tall. Last time I saw you, you were still shorter than me.”

            “I’m not that tall,” Harry said, focusing now on the immaculate surface of the bar. “Just six foot. Although I didn’t quite realize when we were younger that you’re so short.”

            “Hey,” Louis scolded, but laughed. Harry grinned, though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do that in Louis’s presence. The last time Harry had seen him, he’d been in tears, and it had been all Harry’s fault. It had felt so awful that, at the time, Harry hadn’t thought he deserved to smile ever again.

            Of course, Louis seemed better now; maybe even happy. Perhaps Harry hadn’t ruined things quite as much as either had felt at the time.

            But he’d still fucked up.

            “Zayn told me you’re a teacher?” Louis continued.

            “Yeah,” Harry replied, finally looking up, and he was about to ask what Louis did for a living when they were interrupted by the other’s boyfriend.

            “Lou!” he called, causing the grin to fall off Harry’s face. “I won, Lou! Where’s my congratulations kiss?!”

            With a small laugh, Louis hopped off his stool and padded over to his boyfriend, who dipped him into a passionate kiss, causing a surprised squeal to come from the smaller man.

            The next day, Christmas, Harry woke before anyone else and after trying and failing to go back to sleep, he finally got up and went to the kitchen, where he put on some coffee and tea and began the traditional Malik-Styles Christmas breakfast of cinnamon rolls. He was being quiet, he thought, but soon, Liam stumbled downstairs, bleary-eyed and with a confused expression on his face.

            “Sorry, did I wake you?” Harry asked, his voice just above a whisper.

            “I don’t think so,” Liam said, blinking a few times. “I’m just not used to people being awake before me.”

            “Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Harry said with a shrug.

            “Was the bed and everything okay?” Liam asked, a worried frown on his face.

            “It was fine. Perfect,” Harry assured him with a smile. “Coffee or tea?”

            Liam sipped on a coffee, sitting at the breakfast bar to keep Harry company when he’d been assured that his help wasn’t needed. Soon, Niall joined, then Louis and Joey and, just as the cinnamon rolls were ready to come out of the oven, Zayn; each sharing a ‘happy Christmas’ as they entered the room.

            After breakfast, those who hadn’t showered yet got cleaned up and then opened presents. Ever the artist, Zayn had gifted everyone (even Joey) with a personalized illustrated poem he’d made himself, causing tears all around. He and Liam had also gifted Harry a new pair of boots he’d seen while out with the couple but couldn’t justify spending so much money (200 pounds) on. (Liam swore they got them on sale, but Harry didn’t know if he believed him.) In return, Harry had gifted Zayn with new writing and art supplies and Liam with a gift card for a massage (he’d recently complained of shoulder pain due to working overtime to help pay for the honeymoon.) Louis had gifted them with a couple of small things from their wedding registry and a photo frame with their last names hyphenated at the top. He’d gotten Niall some snacks, which Niall was honestly thrilled about, though he was disappointed in himself because he’d bought everyone customized wines based on their personality but ‘now Louis’s not even drinking.’

            “I’ll drink again one day, Niall,” Louis assured his friend, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “In the meantime, this bottle is beautiful and will look great in my wine rack. I love it; thank you.”

            For the rest of the day, the group watched Christmas films, snacked, sipped on drinks (alcoholic and otherwise), and played pool. By late afternoon, Niall had expressed dismay that his girlfriend hadn’t replied to his text that morning, and it was only then that Liam thought to tell everyone the cabin had poor signal and weak Wi-Fi. Luckily, Niall was able to connect his phone to the travel hotspot Joey had brought along, and he and Isla were able to sort out any miscommunications.

            It still hadn’t started to snow on the 26^th, so the group decided to take a day trip to a nearby ski resort. The plan was for Liam and Zayn to take Harry with them while Niall drove Joey and Louis, but once Louis noticed Harry crawling into the backseat of Liam’s car, he protested.

            “Aw, come on!” Louis said. “You’re going to make poor Haz ride in the back and get all carsick?”

            “I thought you didn’t have those issues anymore?” Zayn, with his door half open and half shut, asked his brother. Harry shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, though he was already slightly queasy at the thought of riding through the mountains again.

            Liam and Zayn exchanged looks with one another, wanting to do the right thing and offer the front passenger seat to Harry, but displeased with the idea of not sitting next to each other.

            Shaking his head, Louis said, “You pair are pathetic. You’re going to be spending your whole lives together and one of you can’t sit in the backseat for forty-five minutes? Come on, Harry. You can ride with us.”

            Liam and Zayn were staring at Harry then, and he shrugged again.

            “The mountains did kind of bother me,” he admitted.

            “You could have said something,” Zayn said, frowning.

            “I know,” Harry assured him. “It’s fine. I’ll ride with them, as long as that’s okay with you, Niall?”

            “Of course.”

            Hopping out of the car, Harry shut the door and waved to Zayn and Liam before making his way to Niall’s SUV.

            “Thanks,” he said to both Niall and Louis.

            “‘Course,” Niall said again while Louis simply smiled before sliding into the backseat next to Joey.

            “Let me know if I need to pull over,” Niall said.

            “I should be fine in the front,” Harry said, cheeks flushing as he inadvertently glanced at Louis in the rearview mirror. To his surprise, Louis was looking at him too and he offered a comforting smile. Harry looked away quickly, embarrassed as he recalled the reason Louis had so easily remembered his issue with motion sickness.

            While on a ‘family + Louis’ road trip during the summer when Harry had been thirteen, Zayn’s mom had had to pull over for Harry to be sick. Zayn, naturally, had teased him relentlessly for the duration of the car ride (subtly, after he’d been scolded by Lena for doing so), and, though Louis hadn’t told Zayn to stop, he hadn’t joined in the teasing and had subtly rubbed comforting circles in Harry’s thigh with his thumb. On that particular trip, Harry had to stay in the back, as the car was too small for one of the adults to fit back there with two teen boys, but after having to pull over, Lena stopped at a gas station to get Harry some medicine. The medicine had worked but put him to sleep and when he woke, his head on Louis’s arm, the other boy had smiled, brushed hair from Harry’s face, and said,

            “Feeling better, Curly?”

            Niall, Louis, and Joey did most of the talking on the way to the ski resort but during a lull, Joey commented that Harry was ‘quiet.’

            “Sorry,” Harry said, shooting a small smile to Louis’s boyfriend (who he was still getting bad vibes from). “I’m just taking in the scenery.’

            Joey snorted, but when no one else laughed, cleared his throat.

            “It is pretty out here, isn’t it?” he said. Harry saw Louis gently take his hand and suddenly felt a little sick despite being in the front seat.

            Harry, being uncoordinated, wasn’t the best skier, but he fell only a few times and was likely to have just a couple bruises. Liam or Zayn were always there to help him up and, really, Harry had expected to do much worse so he couldn’t even be that embarrassed. He may have been slightly bitter at the fact that Joey was somewhat of a skiing master, on top of his ping-pong skills.

            “Is he fucking good at everything?” Harry mumbled as the man glided gracefully by while Zayn helped Harry back onto his feet after his second fall. Zayn smirked.

            “Why, Harry,” he said, speaking only loud enough for the brother to hear, “I didn’t expect you’d still be jealous over Louis after all this time.”

            “Shut up,” Harry mumbled even quieter, and skied ungracefully away while Niall, using his best announcer voice, called,

            “And Styles is back in the race!”

            It was finally starting to snow as the guys made their way back to the cabin.

            “If we get snowed in that cabin for a week, I swear to god I’ll have a heart attack,” Niall commented, chewing his lip as he turned on his windshield wipers.

            “We’re going to be in the cabin anyway,” Louis rationalized.

            “Yeah, but being stuck in there, unable to leave, is different than just being there.”

            “It will be okay,” Louis tried to assure him. “Wanna stop and get some wood so we can use the fireplace?”

            “That sounds wonderful, but I’d rather get to the cabin before the snow sticks too much.”

            “I’ll text Zayn and Liam and see if they’ll pick some up,” Louis decided. Niall didn’t protest to that.

            “Today was fun,” Louis spoke again after sending a text to the other two.

            “It was,” Joey agreed, and then, a smile evident in his voice, “How’s your ass, Harry?”

            “Fine so far,” Harry replied, hoping his voice didn’t sound too cold. He made a mental note to do everything in his power to keep Joey from finding out that he was actually a little sore.

            Harry took a hot shower once back at the cabin; one to ease his muscles, but also to have just a bit of alone time. He was having a good time overall, he really was, but he hadn’t expected things to be how they were with Louis. He’d expected awkward; figured he’d have to dodge death glares from Louis the whole trip, but he hadn’t been prepared for Louis to speak to him gently and offer him smiles. He hadn’t expected to still be so attracted to Louis. In fact, he’d hoped that finally seeing him face-to-face again would put an end to the ‘what ifs’ and the sporadic dreams Harry had about the other man. Not that he’d thought Louis would have gotten ugly or anything, but it’d just been a stupid teenage crush before, right? There was no way that Louis would want Harry after everything, so that alone should have been enough to prevent Harry from developing feelings, he thought. Besides, he’d never had actual, true feelings for anyone, so he’d assumed that something was irreparably broken in him. He didn’t mind that idea much. He had plenty of friends and dated casually, and that was all he’d thought he needed. It was predictable. It was safe.

            Realizing that he should save some hot water in case anyone else wanted a shower, Harry reluctantly turned off the water and toweled off. After changing into something comfortable, he went upstairs to find Liam and Zayn just arriving with some firewood and, without asking, Louis handed Harry a mug of hot chocolate.

            “Thanks,” Harry said, sipping the drink cautiously.

            “You’re welcome,” Louis returned. “The others put some Peppermint Schnapps in theirs, but I wasn’t sure you wanted any, so I left it out. The bottle’s on the counter if you want to add some.”

            “No, this is fine,” Harry said. Louis nodded then went to stand by his boyfriend, who was helping Liam with the fire.

            That night, as Harry tried to sleep, he wished he had put some Schnapps in his cocoa. In fact, he wished that he were utterly pissed out of his mind so that maybe he wouldn’t hear, or at least register, the sounds coming from the next room over that told him Louis and Joey were having sex. He tried not to listen, he really did; burying his head into the pillow so hard he felt he would suffocate and covering his ears with his hands, but he could still hear; Louis’s noises, at least. Louis had always been a loud person by nature, and apparently that was also true for sex.

            Finally, after hearing a whimpered, ‘Oh god, yes, please, JoJo,’ Harry had the bright idea to get out his earphones. Quickly, Harry fished the set out of the nightstand and shoved them into his ears painfully. Then, he scrolled to his customized playlist of sad songs and tried to let the sorrow blast out his eardrums.

            And his boner.

            “Harry?”

            Zayn knocked lightly on Harry’s door before slowly opening it. Harry had been awake for a while but hadn’t been able to pull himself out of bed yet, mainly because he didn’t feel up to facing Louis and Joey yet. It really shouldn’t be a big deal. Most adults had sex, Harry included. Hell, he’d heard Liam and Zayn going at it a fair few times when Zayn was living with him and he hadn’t felt uncomfortable facing them the next morning. And Zayn was his brother. Well, stepbrother, but still.

            Holding in a sigh, Harry rolled onto his back and offered Zayn, who was standing in the doorway, worried, a smile.

            “Morning, Z.”

            “You okay?” Zayn asked, still frowning, as he stepped into the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

            “Yeah, fine, Z. Why?”

            “Because it’s after ten and we haven’t heard a noise from you.”

            “I’m good, just catching up on sleep.”

            Still, Zayn looked leery and reached out to place the back of his hand on Harry’s forehead. Laughing, Harry lightly knocked his arm away.

            “You’re already turning into Liam,” he accused. “Seriously, I’m okay. Tired and a little sore from skiing, but I’m fine. I promise.”

            “So, like…Louis hasn’t said anything to you, right?”

            “No. I mean, we talked a bit, but he’s not said anything about…that.”

            “Good.”

            Appearing to feel a little better, Zayn smiled.

            “Anyway, join us when you’d like. We’re not doing much today; Can’t, since it snowed all night, but we’d still like to see you at some point.”

            “I’ll be up soon,” Harry promised, and with a nod, Zayn headed upstairs again. Finally letting out the sigh he’d been holding in, Harry stretched his arms above his head before getting out of bed and changing into comfortable but presentable clothes. Then he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and fix his hair before going to join the others.

            “He lives!” Joey exclaimed.

            Yeah, how’s your ass? Harry childishly wanted to snap back, but instead, he managed a stiff smile.

            “Yes, I’m here to see another beautiful day,” he remarked. Joey laughed but, beside him on the couch, Louis quirked an eyebrow, studying Harry’s face, his expression unreadable. Harry quickly looked away, trying to mute his brain against those noises as he also pretended that he didn’t see Joey’s arm around Louis’s, his fingertips dancing softly on the other’s biceps. At least he wasn’t doing the thing with the ear. Sometimes Joey would tickle Louis’s earlobe, causing his boyfriend to giggle, nuzzle into his neck, and whine for him to stop.

            The ear thing was probably what led to the sounds last night.

            Ugh.

            “Want any breakfast, Harry?” Liam offered. “Zaynie made French toast this morning and there are a few pieces left that we can heat up for you.”

            “No, thanks. I’ll just have this,” Harry said, picking a banana from the bowl on the breakfast bar. “And coffee. Or tea. Whichever.”

            Harry headed to the coffee machine and tea maker, but Liam was already pouring some tea for him. Harry thanked him, remembered to smile, and sat at the island, accidentally making awkward eye contact with Louis as he took his first bite of banana. Both men looked away quickly.

            “We’re going to get snowed in, aren’t we?” Niall spoke from his place on the floor by the Christmas tree, where he was absently pulling pine needles off one of the branches.

            “Looks like it,” Joey said discomfortingly.

            “Fuck,” Niall said, and so Liam went to sit by him, offering support with his presence.

            “Where’s Zayn?” Harry asked, guiltily just realizing his brother was missing.

            “Starting a load of laundry,” Liam replied, and Harry simply nodded, deciding he didn’t want to know.

            Most of the day was spent playing board and card games. Around lunch time, the snow stopped, bringing some comfort to Niall. Joey and Zayn started drinking just a bit after lunch, though Zayn was nursing his so as not to get wasted too early. Joey seemed to be handling his alcohol well, though his glassy eyes and flushed cheeks gave him away before he’d even started slurring his words.

            When it was nearing five, Louis announced that he would fix dinner, as Joey spilled his freshly poured glass of wine (luckily on the wood floor and not any of the rugs.)

            “Noooo, Joe!” Zayn exclaimed, finally starting to show his intoxication. “We can’t waste the booze by spilling them! It’s not like we can run to town to get more!”

            “Oh, god,” Niall squeaked upon looking out the window and seeing that it had started to snow again.

            “We’ve got plenty of food, water, and booze,” Liam assured everyone, and then, “Lou, don’t worry about that, I’ll get it.”

            “That’s okay,” Louis, soaking up the spilled drink with paper towels, said. “It will only take a minute and then I’ll start cooking. What’s everyone want?”

            Liam and Zayn had bought ingredients for everyone to make their own homemade personal pizzas so while Loius played chef and began gathering everything he needed, Harry acted as a waiter and wrote down everyone’s preferred toppings.

            “Where’s your order, Harry?” Louis asked, looking at the sheet Harry had written the requests on.

            “Oh, I can make my own,” Harry said, blushing, for some reason.

            “Okay, Mr. Independent,” Louis said with a sigh. In the next instant, both he and Harry were covered in flour as Louis partly ripped the bag as he opened it. Harry coughed, shocked, and Louis laughed, covering his mouth with a flour-covered hand.

            “Oops,” he said as Zayn and Niall cackled. Looking down at his ruined shirt, even Harry had to laugh.

            “Well, then.”

            “Lou!” Joey whined. “Why do you make a mess of everything?”

            “Like you didn’t just spill red wine everywhere,” Zayn commented sarcastically, taking the words right from Harry’s mouth.

            “It’s not a big deal,” Liam, ever striving to keep the peace, said. “We’ll get it all cleaned up after dinner. Thanks for cooking, Lou.”

            “You’re welcome,” Louis said, his voice soft, though there was still a small smile on his face. His shoulders were tense, though, and Harry wanted to dump the whole bag of flour on Joey’s head for making Louis upset. Instead, he paused while kneading his dough to draw a smiley face in the powder still coating the counters, proud when that got a real smile out of Louis again. Louis drew a sun, so Harry drew a flower. Louis drew an L, so Harry drew an H. Louis drew a heart and Harry’s skipped a beat. Then he drew a star.

            Harry obviously finished his pizza before Louis was done with the others, so he helped Louis finish the rest and then the two headed to separate bathrooms to wash up as much as they could while the food was baking.

            By the time they were all done eating, it had started snowing harder outside, to the point where nothing was visible outside of the windows except white flurries.

            “Holy fuck, we’re going to be stuck in here for a month,” Niall, his voice shaky, commented as he stared out the window, close enough so that his breath was fogging up the glass.

            “Niall, step away from the window,” Louis urged gently. “Come here. Have a smoke and relax.”

            Louis and Joey, with Liam’s permission, had busted out their stash of weed only minutes after the dinner mess was cleaned up. They were friendly with their drugs, offering hits to anyone who wanted but so far (and also with Liam’s permission) only Zayn had accepted.

            With a sigh, Niall reluctantly turned from the window and took a seat next to Zayn on the floor. After taking another hit, Zayn offered the joint to Niall, who accepted.

            “We really shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, even as he took a hit. “We’re going to get the munchies and eat all of the food before we can get out to get more.”

            “We have plenty of food,” Liam assured his friend again. “Don’t worry, mate.”

            Niall nodded, looking as if he were trying to relax as he took a long drag and choked. Louis quickly took the joint from him and took another hit himself.

            “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he sighed.

            “Did you take a break from weed too?” Zayn asked, making grabby hands for another turn.

            “Not willingly,” Louis said, handing it over. “I was applying for a position-a fucking assistant position at the supply chain where JoJo works-and they make you do, like, three interviews and two drug tests.”

            “You’re lucky I told you about the surprise second test they throw at new hires,” Joey said with a smile. “You never would have passed otherwise.”

            Louis opened his mouth, looking as if he were about to protest, but then he closed it again, nodding in defeat.

            “Probably,” he admitted.

            “Is that how you two met? Work?” Niall asked, his shoulders less tense even though he kept sneaking glances out the window.

            “Yep,” Joey said, throwing an arm around Louis’s shoulders. Harry took a long drink of wine. “I wasn’t in charge of the interview, but our supervisor got a call halfway through his tour of the place and asked me to finish it.”

            “Cute,” Niall said, though Harry personally didn’t find there was anything that special about the story.

            The more they smoked, the more nostalgic Zayn and Louis became, and they were soon telling stories from their childhood that Liam looked as if he’d heard a thousand times, though he was still smiling politely and laughing along. Niall and Harry sometimes made cameos in the memories and although Harry was usually being made fun of (making him feel about eight years old again), he didn’t mind.

            “…Remember when we climbed that tree and Harry was too afraid to come down so we said we would go get help, but wanted to make him sweat it out a bit, so we started playing video games and forgot about him for two hours?”

            “How about that time we taped over his favorite film? Which was, like, Nutcracker Barbie or some shit like that.”

            “Remember when Harry fell off his bike and we made fun of him for crying and forced him to bike back, but it turned out his shoulder was broken?”

            “Or when we put itching powder in his pants after that girl kissed him at the park when he was, like, twelve, and told him he had a deadly form of Herpes and convinced him to give us his money since he didn’t need it anymore, as he was, you know, dying?”

            “That one was all you,” Louis said to Zayn. “I even told you that was too mean.”

            “Oh, yeah,” Zayn snorted. “Karma got me anyway. I lost the money.”

            At that, Harry and Louis grinned at each other from across the room. Louis, swearing Harry to secrecy, stole the money back for him and told him that Herpes wasn’t deadly but that he didn’t have it anyway.

            “God, you two were dicks,” Niall spoke. “No wonder Harry…”

            Niall trailed off, perhaps feeling the sudden tension in the room. Everyone besides maybe Joey knew what Harry had done (although Harry didn’t think Liam knew all the details), but that was one memory Harry really did not want to revisit with the group.

            “Never mind,” Niall said, laughing, after appearing to space out for a few moments. “Forgot what I was about to say. Hey, remember that time Lou spray painted tits all over the outside walls of our school?”

            As the night wore on, the guys excused themselves to bed one by one. Niall, who was arguably the highest, went off first, followed by Liam, then Joey and Louis. When it was only Zayn and Harry left, Harry began cleaning up stray cups and trash from when the ones who had been smoking had begun snacking.

            “I’ll get that, Haz,” Zayn said with a yawn. “Don’t worry about it.”

            “It’s all right,” Harry assured him. “There’s not that much to do and I’m about done anyway.”

            “You’re the best.”

            Collapsing onto a stool at the breakfast island, Zayn rested one cheek on his fist, eyes growing heavy. Harry gave a small laugh.

            “You can go to bed, Z. Really. This won’t take me long and then I’m going to bed myself.”

            “In a minute,” Zayn said, his words only slightly slurred. “Niall was right,” he said then. “Lou and I were dicks to you.”

            “Most of it was sibling stuff,” Harry said with a shrug.

            “Yeah, I guess. Sorry, though.”

            “‘S’ all right.”

            Even as mean as Zayn could be when they were younger, he’d always had Harry’s back when it mattered. No one-no one-was allowed to pick on Harry besides him and Louis, which the pair had made clear after terrorizing a kid that had made Harry cry by telling him he had stupid hair. Harry hadn’t been around when the terrorizing had been done, but Zayn and Louis had come home that day with dirt all over their clothes and told Harry he didn’t have to worry about ‘that idiot’ anymore. Sure enough, when Harry next saw the bully at school, he’d given Harry a look of horror and fled in the opposite direction.

            “You wanna know who’s actually a dick, though?” Zayn said.

            “Who?”

            “Joey.”

            “Zayn!” Harry hissed, shooting a nervous glance towards the basement door.

            “They won’t hear me, the walls are soundproof.”

            “No, they’re not.”

            “Yeah, they are.”

            “Zayn,” Harry said flatly, “I know Louis has always been loud in general, but I still don’t think he and Joey could be so loud that their…their sounds would break through soundproof walls.”

            “Huh?” Zayn asked, his brows furrowed in confusion, but then realization dawned upon his face and he snorted. “Oh.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Sorry, man. I swear Liam’s parents said the walls were soundproof. Well…um…Joey’s fit, but still.”

            Zayn lowered his voice and leaned forward, closer to Harry. “But hopefully Louis will get this one out of his system and find a better plus one for our wedding.”

            Harry wasn’t sure how he should feel about Zayn not approving of Joey. Sure, Harry didn’t particularly like the guy, but he figured he was biased; Jealousy or whatnot.

            “You think he’s that bad?” Harry asked, wondering if Zayn knew more about the relationship than he did.

            “He’s not the worst,” Zayn said, and shuddered. “Fuck, Louis’s dated much worse, but still….No one’s been good enough.”

            A familiar unpleasantness settled in Harry’s chest, but he pointedly ignored it because that was dangerous.

            “Hey, Z…does Liam know about you and Louis?”

            “About what?”

            “You and Louis and how you used to be together, or whatever.”

            “We weren’t together,” Zayn insisted. “We were just a couple of confused, scared, lonely gay kids that messed around to figure shit out. But yes, he knows.”

            “Oh,” Harry said, slightly surprised. “Well, good. I mean, I’m glad he’s not bothered by it.”

            “There’s no reason he should be,” Zayn said. “I love Lou. He’s my best mate and I don’t regret anything we did as teenagers, but the feelings have never really been there. We never would have made it as anything other than what we were.”

            Harry nodded and leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted. As if they were children again, Zayn reached over to mess up his hair, laughing when Harry huffed indignantly.

            “Anyway,” Zayn said with an exaggerated yawn as he stretched his arms above his head. “I’m gonna head upstairs now before you have to carry me.”

            “Good, because I’m too tired for that shit,” Harry half-teased, pushing himself away from the counter, a yawn escaping from him. “Good night.”

            “Night, Haz. I hope Joey and Louis stay quiet for you tonight!”

            Harry cringed and Zayn giggled. The pair exchanged another good night and Harry headed to the basement, mentally crossing his fingers that all would be silent from the couple in the room next to him.

            Luckily, if Joey and Louis had chosen to partake in sexual activity, they were apparently done. As he passed their room, Harry heard Louis laughing hysterically over something or other, and he smiled to himself, adoring the sound. The smile was wiped off his face when Joey groaned and said, “God, Lou, can you please shut the fuck up? You’re fucking annoying.”

            “S-sorry,” Louis breathed, clearly trying to get himself under control but not being wholly successful. With a cackle, he said, “But look at this! Isn’t it funny?!”

            “Oh my fucking god, I wish you’d start drinking again.”

            Harry didn’t hear anything else because he hurried to his room and shoved his earphones into his ears, starting his ‘For Sleep’ playlist. Fortunately, the playlist lived up to its title and he was asleep as soon as the second song began.

            Harry wasn’t the last one awake the next morning. He only laid in bed for a couple minutes after blinking open his eyes and then he took a quick shower before heading upstairs. Liam was at the stove making eggs, and Joey and Louis were cuddling on the couch, Louis curled into his boyfriend’s side and sipping something out of a mug while quietly watching something on the television. Harry didn’t recognize the movie, but it had Cameron Diaz in it, apparently. Zayn and Niall were nowhere to be seen.

            “Good morning! Coffee or tea? Liam asked cheerfully.

            “Coffee, please,” Harry replied.

            “On it!” Liam said, expertly preparing Harry’s coffee just as he liked it while making sure not to burn the eggs. Once the mug was in front of him, Harry thanked him and sipped on the beverage while absently watching the TV, though his eyes kept roaming to Louis without Harry’s permission. His eyes were a bit bloodshot, though Harry supposed that could have been from smoking last night, and every now and then, he’d let out a little sniffle and rub at the tip of his nose with his sweater paws that were peeking out from the blanket he had wrapped around his body.

            “You feeling okay, Lou?” Liam asked, concerned, as he turned off the stove and dished eggs out onto four separate plates.

            “Yeah, why?” Louis asked, blinking at Liam innocently.

            “You just sound like you’re getting a little sick, is all.”

            “Nope, just still a little tired,” Louis assured him. “Nothing more coffee and breakfast won’t fix, but-No, Liam, I’ll get it. Don’t worry about it.”

            Harry didn’t think Liam knew how not to worry about others though and smiled as Liam busied himself with making Louis more coffee and quickly serving him his breakfast.

            “It’s your holiday too,” Louis pointed out after thanking his friend. “You don’t have to take care of us all.”

            “I like to,” Liam said honestly, and Louis smiled at him warmly.

            “You’ll make a great dad one day,” he said, and Liam beamed, clearly pleased.

            After a bit, Zayn finally made his way downstairs, bleary-eyed and messy hair. Niall joined a while later and Liam went back to the kitchen each time to prepare more breakfast. (“He’s the best,” Zayn had sighed dreamily. “Isn’t he the best?”)

            Though it was still snowing outside, it had slowed down somewhat; enough to keep Niall from having another anxiety attack, at least. The guys spent the first half of the day playing pool, something else that Harry wasn’t very good at. When his third ball flew off the table, nearly hitting Liam in the foot, Joey snorted.

            “Harry,” he said disbelievingly. “You can’t ski, you can’t play ping-pong or air hockey, and you’re shit at pool. What can you do?”

            Infuriatingly, Harry felt his cheeks turn red because, yeah, he was pretty bad at most things, but it didn’t have to be pointed out like that.

            “Don’t be rude, JoJo,” Louis absently defended Harry while chalking the end of his pool stick. “Harry’s a great singer and you, as I happen to know, sound like a dying hippopotamus when you sing.”

            “You’ve heard me sing?” Harry asked, somehow even more mortified than he’d been a moment ago. He didn’t sing in front of people. Ever. Except that one time he lost a bet with his friend at school and had to participate in…

            “The talent show,” Louis said, and Harry shook his head.

            “Sorry, what?”

            “Zayn and I heard you sing at the talent show that one year,” Louis said. Harry whipped around to look at Zayn.

            “You told me you didn’t go!”

            “Well, of course I did. It meant so much to you that I go…I couldn’t have you thinking that I actually cared about you, could I’ve?”

            “Dick,” Niall laughed under his breath. Harry felt like he was going to faint.

            “But I did awful,” he said, leaning his back against the wall to steady himself.

            “Harry, you got, like, second or third-” Louis began.

            “Third,” Harry said.

            “-Third overall and first in your category.”

            “In a secondary school talent show!”

            “Still. You were great then. I’m sure you’re even better now.”

            “You know, I think there’s a karaoke machine around here somewhere,” Liam said unhelpfully.

            “No,” Harry said weakly while Louis, Niall, and Zayn shouted,

            “Yes!”

            “I’m going to need a drink for this,” Harry announced to no one in particular.

            “Ooh, I’ll make drinks!” Liam offered excitedly, even though it was just after noon.

            The game of pool officially abandoned, Joey followed Liam upstairs and Harry trailed behind reluctantly.

            While Liam worked on mixing martinis with green and red sprinkles on the rim of the glasses (Christmas wasn’t officially over until after the New Year, he claimed), Harry heard Zayn, Louis, and Niall running around upstairs, talking and laughing until Niall yelled out an excited, “Found it!”

            “I shouldn’t have come,” Harry murmured, taking a drink from his martini.

            “You don’t have to sing,” Liam said, but Zayn, coming down the stairs with the boxed-up karaoke machine in his arms, said,

            “Oh, yes he does!”

            “Let me at least get tipsy first, yeah?” Harry sighed, downing his first martini before picking up another.

            “Fine,” Zayn allowed.

            “Aww, these are cute,” Louis, admiring the martinis, said. “Can I have one?”

            “Um, of course, but I thought you weren’t drinking?” Liam said, looking concerned. Again.

            “Cleanse is over,” Louis said with a shrug. “Niall was right; this was a dumb time of year to try it.”

            “Speaking of drinking, Lou, how’s your mum?” Zayn asked, nearly causing Harry to choke on his drink, but Louis just laughed.

            “Down to three or four bottles of wine a week now instead of seven or eight, so…”

            “Good,” Zayn said, sounding like he meant it. Harry found his gaze settling on Louis again, but the other didn’t notice, going through the stack of karaoke CDs that they’d also found. Niall was hooking the machine up to the television, Liam was setting out snacks and finger foods for lunch, and Joey moved to place himself behind Louis, his chin hooked over his boyfriend’s shoulder to look at the cd collection with him. Zayn was absently sipping on a martini and watching his fiancé with a small smile on his face.

            Louis sang first, and Harry had a feeling he was singing badly on purpose, perhaps so Harry would sound better when it was his turn. This was somewhat confirmed when Louis and Joey did a duet and Louis sang normally. He had a pretty good voice, Harry noted, though he supposed anyone would sound good next to Joey.

            After his third martini, the guys wouldn’t let him put off singing anymore, and Harry dreadfully stumbled off the barstool he’d been sitting on and made his way to the machine. Zayn, who had just finished a decent cover of ‘Mirrors’ by Justin Timberlake, handed him the microphone.

            Harry spent an unnecessarily long amount of time picking a song, hoping the others would get bored and move on, but of course that only served to make Zayn tell him to ‘hurry the fuck up before I pick your damn song.’

            In the end, Harry decided on ‘The Chain’ by Fleetwood Mac. His palms were a bit sweaty as he waited anxiously through the intro. Even though he knew the song by heart, he kept his eyes trained on the television, knowing he would crumble if he made eye contact with any of the others. He had half a mind to be bad on purpose, like Louis had done, but figured they would make him sing again until he took it seriously.

            When the first note was out of his mouth, he heard someone gasp and he stumbled over the next couple of lines but got back on track fairly quickly.

            He didn’t remember the song being so long, but as it dragged on, he wished he’d picked a shorter one.

            When, finally, the song came to an end, the others cheered and whistled, turning Harry’s face red.

            “All right, I take back what I said,” Joey commented, a small smile on his face. “That was incredible.”

            “Told you,” Louis said, half smirking and half smiling at Harry, who knew he turned an even deeper shade of red and excused himself to the bathroom. Now that everyone had already heard his voice, though, Harry was more willing to sing again and he did a duet with Liam, who was also shy about singing around anyone but Zayn (and Harry, if he just so happened to be in the car when one of Liam’s favorite songs came on). Liam had a great voice too, though, and Zayn maybe teared up when, after the duet, Liam serenaded him with the song they’d chosen for their first dance.

            Since they’d started drinking early, everyone was ready to crash early that night. Louis went off first, after starting to hiccup, but Joey followed behind shortly after. Zayn went next, then Liam. Harry and Niall stayed up for one more drink and then they decided to call it a night as well.

            Harry felt good as he ventured off to bed. There was no way, he thought, that Joey and Louis would still be awake. No sounds of sex or fighting would threaten to keep Harry up tonight, surely.

            At first, that seemed to be true. All was silent in the basement, so Harry changed into his coziest pair of pajamas, brushed his teeth and washed his face, and then laid in bed, happy and just a little drunk. He started to doze off quickly and was in the beginning stages of a dream when something pulled him back to consciousness. It took him a minute to register the angry voices coming from the other side of the wall. Sighing, Harry put his headphones in and continued where he’d left off last night on his sleep playlist. He was almost asleep again when the door to his bedroom was thrown open, Harry almost having a heart attack when it bounced loudly off the doorstop. One pod fell out of his ear as he bolted upright into a sitting position.

            “Niall!” Louis whined, sounding as if he were crying. “Niall, JoJo’s being mean! Can I sleep with you?”

            Before Harry could reply, Louis had made his way over to the bed, collapsing on top of the covers and curling over himself, his forehead on Harry’s thigh.

            “Um,” Harry began, licking his lips anxiously. “Yeah, you can stay in here, I guess, but I’m not…not Niall.”

            “…Harry?”

            “Yeah,” Harry said, but the word wasn’t even fully out of his mouth before Louis launched himself off the bed, losing his balance from his own force (seriously, he’d acted like Harry had suddenly burst into flames, which was unnecessary, he thought). Louis fell, and Harry heard a ‘crack’ as he went down.

            “Louis!” he gasped, throwing himself out of bed and kneeling beside the other man, who was holding the back of his head.

            “Ow,” Louis whined, and gently moving his hand away, Harry began massaging Louis’s skull, searching for a lump or, God forbid, blood. Luckily, he felt neither.

            “What’d you hit it on? The nightstand?”

            “Think so,” Louis said, sitting up straighter. Harry dropped his hand.

            “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah,” Louis said. “Sorry, thought Niall was sleeping down here for some reason.”

            “It’s okay,” Harry said, rising to his feet as Louis clumsily stood. “Sorry Joey’s being mean.”

            “‘S’not your fault,” Louis slurred. Harry hoped he was only slurring because he was still drunk and that he hadn’t hit his head harder than they thought.

            “Do you…uh…do you still want to stay in here tonight?”

            “Is there another empty room upstairs?” Louis asked instead.

            “Yeah, there’s one more on the main floor and two more on the top level.”

            “I’ll just go to one of those, but thanks.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            The two stood there, awkwardly facing each other for a few moments before Louis let out an exaggerated yawn.

            “Well, goodnight!”

            “Goodnight,” Harry said, trying to take mild comfort in the fact that Louis wasn’t crying anymore; if he even had been in the first place, that was. Still, he held his breath as Louis noisily made his way upstairs. He seemed to make it without any travesties and Harry breathed again after hearing the basement door open and shut.

            Even with his ‘to sleep’ playlist, it took Harry a long time to fall asleep again.

            Everyone besides Joey was already on the main floor by the time Harry went up for breakfast the next morning. Zayn was flitting around, getting coffee and tea ready while Liam prepared BLTs. Louis was asleep on the couch, sitting up with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders while Niall stared fretfully out the window. It was snowing pretty hard again.

            “Morning,” Harry greeted, gazing at Louis’s sleeping form for a couple seconds too long and hoping he hadn’t slept like that all night.

            “Good morning!” Liam greeted cheerfully and then, noticing where Harry was looking, he gave a small laugh. “He’s a bit hungover, I think.”

            “I’d say that’s likely,” Harry agreed, deciding that he wasn’t going to mention what had happened last night to anyone. “Need help with anything?”

            “Keeping Niall from a panic attack, maybe?” Zayn suggested. Harry walked towards his friend, who looked at him fearfully.

            “Hi,” he squeaked, and Harry felt his lips twitch upwards.

            “Hey,” he returned, closing the blinds to the window Niall had been gazing out of. Niall made a small whine of protest, but Harry ignored him, shutting the rest of the open blinds in the room. Satisfied, Harry took a seat on the couch, at the opposite end from Louis. The movement of the couch sinking lightly woke Louis up and he blinked blearily at Harry before making a questionable ‘urghflip-uh’ noise and laying down.

            “All right, then,” Harry giggled, and resisted the urge to play with Louis’s hair.

            Zayn, Niall, Liam, and Harry were at the table eating breakfast when Joey finally made his way upstairs. Louis was still asleep on the couch; that was, until Joey began tickling him roughly in the stomach and startled him awake.

            “Uumph,” Louis grunted, and then hic-burped, causing Joey to back off immediately. “Jesus fuck,” Louis breathed, throwing the blanket off himself and stumbling to the bathroom.

            “You okay, Lou?” Liam called after him, worried, but Louis replied with, “Yep, just gotta wee,” so Liam, who had started to get out of his seat to follow him, settled again.

            “Sorry, he’s grumpy in the morning sometimes,” Joey said with a shrug.

            “I probably would be too if someone tickled me awake when I was hungover,” Zayn said lightly, and Joey laughed.

            “Fair point,” he allowed, then, wondering aloud why it was so dark in the cabin, opened one of the blinds that Harry had shut only minutes ago. It was snowing even harder already, and Niall groaned.

            After he’d had some breakfast, Louis was back to his normal self, which was good, of course, though Harry didn’t think Joey deserved to be forgiven as easily as he was. Admittedly, Harry didn’t even know what the pair had argued about last night, but in his head he kept replaying Louis’s sad voice as he burst into his bedroom and asked to stay the night. But Louis was now lounging on the couch, his head in Joey’s lap as the other man played with his hair, so they were apparently going to be okay.

            Everyone seemed to be getting a little antsy, being stuck inside (though Niall was still the only one who was actually panicked) so the drinking started early again.

            “Thank god,” Louis croaked, standing and heading to the kitchen when Zayn, the first to break, opened a new bottle of wine. “I was wanting the classic hair of the dog remedy but didn’t want to seem like a complete alcoholic.”

            “You spent the first few days completely sober,” Zayn pointed out. “I don’t think anyone would be under that impression.”

            Louis hummed, accepting a full glass from Zayn and momentarily resting his head on his shoulder in thanks. Zayn rubbed his arm and then, as Louis made his way back to the couch, asked who else would be joining.

            Harry dreamt about Louis again that night, though the dream was more like a memory.

            One morning, during the summer when Louis and Zayn were eleven and Harry was nine, Harry was woken by the eerie feeling that someone was watching him. After blinking a few times and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Harry saw someone at the end of his bed and startled, but it was only Louis, sitting cross-legged on the mattress by Harry’s feet. When Louis saw that the other was awake, he grinned.

            “About time! You sleep in late.”

            “What time is it?”

            “Almost 10:30.”

            “That’s not that late.”

            “I’ve been up since 6:40.”

            “But it’s summer. Why do you wake up so early?”

            Louis shrugged then stood, pulling the swimming trunks he was wearing down a little.

            “Zayn’s sick,” he said, “You’re coming on an adventure with me.”

            “What’s wrong with Zayn?” Harry asked. Louis shrugged again.

            “He’s just got a bit of a fever but your mum said he needs to stay in bed and rest today so you’re coming with me.”

            “Where are we going?”

            At the question, Louis gave his impish grin that told Harry he was planning trouble.

            “It’s a surprise,” he said, only proving to Harry that he should absolutely not go anywhere with Louis Tomlinson.

            But of course he did anyway.

            “What are we doing at Mr. and Mrs. Nichols’s house?” Harry asked after changing into swim trunks, as Louis had instructed, and following him down the street.

            “Swimming,” Louis replied, going around to their back gate instead of the front door, as Harry had expected.  “Okay, Curly, I’m going to lift you over the gate and then you unlock it for me, okay?”

            “Why don’t we just ask Mr. and Mrs. Nichols if we can go through the back door?”

            Harry’s question was met with another ornery grin.

            “Aw, Curly, you’re bloody adorable,” Louis said, and then answered, “Because Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas aren’t here. They’re on holiday.”

            “But…they know we’re going to use their pool, right?”

            “Erm…do you want me to say yes?”

            “Louis!” Harry exclaimed, causing the other boy to shush him and look around frantically. Harry lowered his voice, but continued, “We can’t! We’ll get in trouble!”

            “Only if we get caught.”

            “Which we probably will!”

            “Nah, I don’t think so, and besides, you won’t really get in trouble. It wasn’t your idea and you’re young.”

            When Harry didn’t say anything, mentally weighing the pros and cons, Louis grabbed his hand for just a moment before letting it fall again.

            “Please, Haz?” he asked. “It will be fun, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

            So, as he had probably known all along that he would, Harry agreed, and it was fun and somehow, they didn’t get caught.

            That was Harry’s favorite day of the entire summer.

            It was another day of board games, card games, and video games with an old Nintendo 64 that Louis found while snooping through one of the spare rooms upstairs. At dinner, Zayn announced that it was supposed to stop snowing in the next 24-36 hours and Niall made them all drinks to celebrate.

            Joey and Louis could be heard arguing through the walls again that night and, sick of it, Harry was blaring his ‘Bullshit’ playlist, also known as his collection of angry songs.

            “Louis! Louis! For fuck’s sake, you fucking psycho, come here!”

            When Joey’s voice became loud enough to cut through the music playing in Harry’s ears, he took one earbud out, annoyed but wanting to ensure he wasn’t going to have to break up the fight. Or at least ask the two to shut up, though he realized he no longer heard Louis’s voice, only Joey’s.

            “Louis! Fucking hell!”

            Sighing, Harry paused his music and took out his other earbud. Pushing himself off the bed, Harry opened his door and stepped out, about to ask what the hell was going on when a cold breeze caused him to freeze in place. Instinctively wrapping his arms around himself, Harry turned towards the cold and saw that the door leading to the outside of the cabin was wide open and snow was blowing in.

            “Fuck!”

            Joey ran out of the bedroom he’d been sharing with Louis, his hair sticking up every which way. Harry saw why when he nervously ran a hand through the middle.

            “What happened?” Harry asked, feeling the frown on his face as a shiver wracked his body.

            “Louis just fucking left!” the other man said, his voice hysterical as he gestured to the door.

            “What?” Harry, having heard Joey but unable to comprehend what was being said, asked.

            “He just up and ran out the backdoor like it’s not two degrees and a blizzard out there!”

            Hurrying to the door, Harry looked out, figuring he’d see Louis close by but, through the snow, he couldn’t see anything.

            “Louis!” he yelled, but his voice was drowned out by the whistling wind. “Shit.”

            Shoving lightly by Louis’s boyfriend, Harry ran up the steps, skipping every other one.

            “What are you doing?!” Joey asked, following behind, but there was no time to answer.

            “Have you seen a flashlight around here?” Harry asked instead as he flung the front closet door open and yanked his coat off the hanger. He grabbed Louis’s as well and slipped into his snow boots that were by the front door.

            “You can’t go out there!” Joey exclaimed.

            “What’s going on?” Niall, rubbing his eyes, asked as he padded his way out of his bedroom. Harry ignored him, frantically opening all the drawers in the kitchen until he, thankfully, found a flashlight.

            “Harry!” Niall called as Harry tore out the front door. The wind whipped his hair and stung his face, but he barely noticed.

            “Louis!” he screamed again but knew the other couldn’t hear. He could barely hear himself.

            Turning in circles fast enough to make himself dizzy, Harry shined the flashlight in every direction but saw no sign of Louis. He was about ready to run back inside and exit through the same door Louis had used, thinking he could trace his footsteps when something hard, compact, and cold hit him in the back and he spun around, nearly losing his balance, just in time to see Louis hide behind the side of the cabin.

            “Louis,” Harry breathed, and took off after the man. Louis peeked out and when he saw Harry, a wide smile came over his face and he began running.

            “Hey, stop!” Harry called, but Louis either didn’t hear or didn’t listen. “At least put your damn coat on!”

            Harry didn’t know how, if Louis were intoxicated enough to run outside coatless and start a snowball fight in the middle of a blizzard, he was able to run so fast, especially when all he had on his feet were sneakers, but it took Harry longer to catch up with him than he felt it should have. Louis was fairly deep into the nearby woods before Harry managed to grab onto the back of his sweater. With a yell, Louis fell, taking Harry right down with him, resulting in a mouthful of snow.

            Gasping, Harry laid there, shocked, for a couple moments before spitting out the snow he hadn’t inadvertently swallowed and sat up on his knees, sure Louis would have already gotten up and fled, but he was pleasantly surprised (though admittedly worried) to find he was laying on his back a few feet away, making a snow angel.

            Rising to his shaky legs, Harry made his way over to the other, staring down at his grinning face.

            “Hi, Curly,” Louis greeted.

            “Hey, Lou.”

            Louis giggled, but Harry’s concern grew when the other closed his eyes.

            “Hey,” he said, tapping Louis’s thigh with his foot. Luckily, Louis opened his eyes again. “We need to get inside,” Harry continued, raising his voice to be heard over the wind, which had picked up in intensity again. “We are going to actually die if we stay out here much longer in wet clothes.”

            “Okay,” Louis agreed, reaching towards Harry who, holding Louis’s coat between his legs, helped him up. Though it was likely pointless, Harry draped the coat around Louis’s shoulders before intertwining their arms, preventing Loius from escaping again.

            “Oh my god!”

            As soon as Harry opened the front door to the cabin, he was pulled into a tight hug by Zayn, who Harry thought was shaking, though it was hard to tell since he himself was trembling, suddenly able to feel the bone-chilling cold now that his adrenaline was decreasing.

            “You fucking tossers,” Zayn continued and his voice, in the least, was shaking.

            “What the fuck were you thinking?!” Joey asked Louis, his fists clenched in rage as Louis, pale and blue-lipped, stood by the door, half checked out as he surveyed the others. In the corner by the Christmas tree, Liam appeared to be coaching Niall through some meditative breathing exercises.

            “Louis, mate, come here; get away from the door,” Zayn said, taking one arm off Harry to wave Louis forward. Hesitantly, Louis walked towards Zayn, who pulled him into the hug as soon as he was close enough. “I thought you were going to die, both of you. Fucking wankers,” Zayn mumbled, kissing both his brother and then his best friend on top of their heads.

            “They’re freezing,” Liam commented, taking a couple steps away from Niall, who was pale but breathing normally. Looking at Harry and Louis, Liam said, “You both need warm baths. I’ll go get them started.”

            “Louis, seriously, what the fuck?” Joey asked harshly, and Harry felt Zayn tighten the hold he had on his friend comfortingly. Harry would like some answers too, of course, and he knew Joey was probably just scared like the rest of them, but Harry still found his tone unnecessary, especially when he felt like Joey had to be partly responsible for Louis’s episode, given that they were fighting right before Louis fled.

            “Sorry, guys,” Louis said softly, turning his body further towards Zayn.

            “We’ll talk later,” Zayn said gently. “Let’s go, you two get in the bath before you become hypothermic.”

            Harry insisted that Louis get in the first bath. Feeling too antsy to lie in a bath, personally, Harry took a shower, assuring Liam that he would keep the temperature warm but not hot. Even once he was warm, though, he continued to shake a little and wrapped a blanket around his pajama-clad body before going upstairs. Louis was on the couch, knees pulled up, a blanket wrapped around him as well. He was sipping hot tea and Harry was glad to see that he was less pale and that his lips had returned to their normal color. He’d been made to blow dry his hair, apparently, and Harry almost smiled, the fluffiness reminding him of a baby chick.

            “Here. Drink. Please,” Liam asked, handing Harry his own cup of tea. Obediently, he took a sip.

            “Glad you’re alive, you pricks,” Niall commented from his place by the Christmas tree. “Now that I know we’re not going to have to call out a recovery team for your dead, frozen bodies, I’m going back to bed.”

            “Love you too, Ni,” Harry said with a small smile. Niall flipped him off, ruffled Louis’s hair (he barely blinked) and gave Harry a one-armed hug before making his way into the bedroom and closing the door.

            Figuring that risking his life to save Louis’s earned him some respectability back from the man, Harry sat on the couch next to the other, who blinked up at him.

            “I’m sorry, Haz,” he said, his voice small. “You shouldn’t have come after me.”

            With a small smile, Harry shrugged.

            “This was definitely your riskiest adventure, but it was thrilling, if nothing else. Even more thrilling than breaking into Mr. and Mrs. Nichols’s pool, somehow.”

            Louis let out a surprised laugh, rubbing one eye with his fist before taking another sip from his mug. Harry thought he was going to say something, but when he didn’t, Harry said, “I had a dream about that last night, actually.”

            “About what?”

            “When we broke into Mr. and Mrs. Nichols’s pool. Not sure why I dreamt about it, but I did.”

            “When did we do that?” Zayn asked, a frown on his face, and Louis and Harry shared a conspiratorial smile.

            “You weren’t there,” Louis said. “You were sick.”

            “Oh.”

            Still grinning, Harry took another drink of his tea, aware that Louis’s eyes were on him.

            “Where’s Joey?” Harry asked unthinkingly. He didn’t really care about the answer, but he hadn’t known what else to say and the silence had been making him slightly uncomfortable. He hated himself for asking it when Louis looked away.

            “He went to bed. He’s mad at me. Obviously.”

            “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

            Louis shrugged, sipping his tea again. From the kitchen, Zayn yawned loudly.

            “Sorry,” he apologized when all eyes turned to him, and Louis gave a small smile.

            “You can go to bed,” Louis said. “I won’t make another great escape, I promise.”

            Zayn stared at Louis down the bridge of his nose and Louis laughed, absently running a hand through his hair.

            “I promise,” he tried. Zayn looked as if he wanted to argue but then yawned again.

            “I don’t trust you,” he said. “You’re sleeping on our bedroom floor tonight.”

            “What?! No!” Louis protested, looking horrified. “I’ll go sleep in the bed with Niall, or-or Harry can stay with me.”

            “I think Harry’s done enough for you tonight,” Zayn said, but Harry quickly interjected.

            “I don’t mind.”

            Zayn gave the both of them a leery look, but Liam kissed him on the cheek.

            “Come on, love,” he tried. “You look like you’re about to collapse. They’re both looking a lot better and….and they’ll be fine.”

            “Are you sure?” Zayn asked, and though Liam had been the one talking, Zayn’s focus was on Harry.

            “I’m sure,” Harry assured him.

            “Alright,” Zayn said hesitantly, “but if either of you need anything…”

            “We’ll come get you,” Harry said. “Both of us, so Lou can’t run out the door.”

            Louis rolled his eyes, but not before the corners of his mouth twitched up a little.

            “Okay,” Zayn said, though still didn’t look like he felt much better about it. Liam took his hand, gently tugging him to the stairs.

            “Goodnight, you two.”

            “Night, Li. Night, bro,” Harry said while Louis said a soft ‘goodnight.’

            Once the couple was upstairs and their voices faded out of hearing range, Louis sighed and put his nearly empty mug on the coffee table, ensuring to set it on a coaster.

            “You don’t actually have to stay with me,” Louis said, turning his body towards Harry but not meeting his eyes. “I think we should talk, though.”

            “You don’t owe me an explanation, Lou,” Harry said.

            “Yeah…I kinda do.”

            Harry waited and Louis sighed again, finally looking up at Harry.

            “Can we go to the bedroom and talk?”

            By fourteen, Harry’s crush on Louis had only grown. He often wondered if it could even be considered a ‘crush’ anymore. Louis took up ninety percent of his dreams and even more of his waking thoughts. He still followed Zayn around like a lost puppy, much to his annoyance, but only when Louis was there. His breath caught in his throat whenever Louis looked at him and he felt a spark of electricity when Louis spoke to him. Harry found himself doing things he wouldn’t normally do, hoping to impress Louis, such as trying cigarettes and drinking from the vodka bottle Zayn had stolen from their parents’ bedroom (and later put back after filling it up with water, of course.) He’d hated the taste of the cigarette and loathed how the vodka made him feel a couple hours after drinking it, but he loved Louis.

            ‘I’d do anything for him,’ Harry had written in his notebook over and over, though whenever he talked about Louis in his journal, he used the code name he’d given him-Blue-in case Zayn were to find the journal and read it.

            Zayn had come out as gay about a year ago and, while his father had apparently reacted unfavorably (Zayn didn’t go to his house for three months after telling everyone of his sexuality), his mom and Harry’s dad had handled it well. A few kids at school were rude about it, but overall, no one seemed to care all that much.

            Harry had yet to come out for a couple of reasons. For one, he didn’t want anyone to think he was trying to copy Zayn or something. Mostly, though, it was because he didn’t know what he was. Sure, he was basically in love with Louis, but he’d not really had feelings for anyone else, unless it was a celebrity. And Harry did have female celebrity crushes so maybe he was bi?

            Harry couldn’t get a read on Louis’s sexuality. Sure, he was a bit flamboyant, but Louis had always liked attention, so Harry chalked his flamboyant nature up to that. He never talked about crushes or boyfriends or girlfriends, not when Harry was around. Of course, that might be something that he only talked about with Zayn when he was staying over and they talked all through the night (often being asked to keep it down by Edward or Lena).

            As only a pathetic, lovesick teenager would do, Harry often found himself laying outside Zayn’s door when Louis stayed over, straining his ears to hear if they were talking about boys. Or girls. Maybe, by some miracle, Harry would hear Louis talking about him; confessing his feelings to Zayn about his younger stepbrother.

            “Fuck, Zayn…I don’t know what to do.”

            Harry, who had been half asleep, sitting up against the wall outside of Zayn’s room, perked up at this. It had less to do with what Louis had said than the defeated, upset tone to his voice. Was something wrong with Louis? Harry scooted closer to the door and held his breath.

            “Relax, babes, you’re okay. You’re here, you’re safe. It’s going to be okay.”

            There was silence, and then a low groan.

            “Zaynie,” Louis whined.

            “Yeah, babes?”

            “Nothing, nothing. Thank you.”

            Harry heard Zayn’s bed squeak and figured he’d shifted, getting himself comfortable so he could sleep.  When nearly a minute passed with no sound except the bed creaking a couple more times, Harry stood and prepared to go back to his room, but Louis’s voice stopped him.

            “Ouch, fuck!”

            “Shh…sorry.”

            “No, it’s okay. Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to yell.”

            “It’s all right. ‘Twas kind of hot,” Zayn said, and oh. Oh.

            But no. No, it couldn’t be what it sounded like. Zayn and Louis called each other ‘bro’ and brothers didn’t do…that.

            In the next instant, Zayn turned on his music, the volume not loud enough to wake anyone else but loud enough to mask any other noise coming from inside.

            Harry stood, his heart slowly crumbling, for an undetermined amount of time. He knew he should just go back to bed and try to forget what he’d heard; pretend it wasn’t what it sounded like. He knew that-he did-but instead, he found himself on his hands and knees, reaching up and so, so slowly twisting Zayn’s door handle until it came unlatched (and, really, why hadn’t they locked the door if they were doing that?) Pushing open the door just enough to get a clear view, Harry’s fears were confirmed.

            Zayn and Louis were both on Zayn’s bed, Zayn on top of Louis, kissing his face, lips, neck, shoulders…And one of his hands was down Louis’s pants. Louis’s eyes were closed, his back arching slightly and his mouth open in a small ‘o.’

            Harry needed to leave. He needed to go right now; Close the door, run to the bathroom, bleach his eyeballs, maybe throw up. But all he could do was stare, feeling betrayed even though he didn’t have any valid reason to feel that way. And then, for some godforsaken reason, when Louis gently removed Zayn’s hands from his pants to hold his hand and started kissing him back, Harry took a picture.

            Finally, when Zayn started untying the drawstrings on his joggers, Harry unfroze and snapped the door shut before running to his bedroom, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

            Harry hadn’t meant to do anything with the picture, honestly. He didn’t even know why he was keeping it except to torture himself. Of course Louis would fall for Zayn. Gorgeous, funny, charismatic Zayn. Harry was too weird looking, too boring, too awkward for someone as amazing as Louis.

            Needless to say, Harry distanced himself from Zayn and Louis after that.

            The very day after Harry’s heart had been broken, he was still lying in bed at noon, though he hadn’t had much actual sleep. Lena had checked on him once, but he’d feigned sleep and she left the room quieter than when she’d entered.

            As the smell of food cooking downstairs wafted into his nostrils, Harry’s stomach churned and he wrinkled his nose, rolling over to face the wall.

            “Curly!”

            Harry jumped and sat up as Louis burst into the room, one hand on his hip.

            “What?” Harry asked, a little harsher than necessary.

            “It’s lunch time,” Louis explained.

            “I’m not eating,” Harry mumbled, laying down again, and Louis took a couple steps into the room.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you sick?”

            “Yep,” Harry said, popping the ‘p.’ In the next instant, Louis was by his side, one hand laying across his forehead. Harry winced, wondering if Louis had returned the hand job Zayn had given him.

            “You don’t feel warm,” Louis said accusingly.

            “I don’t have to have a fever to have a stomachache,” Harry returned in a huff. Louis grinned infuriatingly.

            “Well take some Pepto Bismol and get up,” Louis demanded lightly. “It’s raining out so we’re going to the cinema. We’re gonna see that new Ryan Gosling movie. Zayn’s got a thing for him, you know.”

            ‘Jealous?’ Harry almost asked but didn’t.

            “I don’t want to go,” he said instead, “but have fun.”

            “You don’t want to go?” Louis asked, his forehead creasing in concern.

            “No,” Harry said, and repeated, “but have fun.”

            “Hazza…what’s wrong?”

            “I told you; I don’t feel good. Now you better go in case it’s contagious.”

            Louis stared at Harry for another few moments, but Harry pointedly didn’t meet his gaze, suddenly feeling like he was going to cry. Again.

            “Okay,” Louis finally said, his voice soft. “Hope you feel better soon.”

            “Thanks.”

            Of course, Louis told Lena that Harry was claiming to be ill, and he must have been acting pretty unwell because she doted on him that day like she hadn’t done since he’d been about nine.

            Harry couldn’t feign sick every time Zayn and Louis were going out and he wondered why they even cared so much. Well, Louis, at least. They’d never invited Harry along before; it was just known that Harry would tag along no matter what they did. Now that he was staying behind, Louis took it upon himself to ask him to go until Harry said no so many times that he gave up.

            Still, as hurt as he was, part of Harry was happy for them. He loved Zayn and he loved Louis, and if Harry couldn’t have Louis, then he was glad they both had someone that deserved them. He didn’t want to hurt either one of them just because he was.

            Zayn and Harry were at war. Harry didn’t know why, but Zayn had been making fun of him relentlessly for the past couple of days. He made a rude remark about the new way Harry was styling his hair. He made fun of the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he was growing wider but not taller.

            “At least my dad doesn’t hate me because I’m gay,” Harry had finally exploded after Zayn teasingly called him a disappointment for nearly flunking a math test that he’d been stressing about all week. The smirk instantly fell from Zayn’s face as his shoulders tensed and, feeling smug, Harry went haughtily to his bedroom.

            An hour or so later, Harry got a notification on his phone from Facebook saying that Zayn had tagged him in a post. Dreadfully, Harry opened the app and found a picture of himself at age six, playing dress up in Lena’s clothes with red lipstick smeared across his face.

            ‘Harry Styles says he’s not gay, but idk…this looks pretty gay to me (and I would know),’ read the caption. The post already had eleven reactions, including a laughing one from Louis and, seeing red, Harry thumbed out his own post with shaking hands.

            ‘Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, not as gay as this,’ he said, attaching the painful picture he’d sneaked a few months ago and hitting ‘post’.

            “Harry!”

            It didn’t even take two minutes for Zayn to notice the post, and Harry smirked as he heard his stepbrother running up the stairs into his room.

            “Harry!” he yelled again after nearly breaking the door to get into the other’s bedroom. “Fucking delete that shit, you weird little sicko! Delete it right now!”

            “That’s not a very nice way to talk to someone of whom you’re asking a favor,” Harry said sweetly, grinning at Zayn from the bed, where he was lying on his stomach, ankles crossed in the air.

            “You’re not fucking funny!”

            In the next instant, Zayn ripped Harry’s phone from his hands, trembling as he deleted the post.

            “You have to delete the one of me now,” Harry demanded stubbornly.

            “Whatever, man. God, you’re a prick. I can’t believe you did that!”

            Zayn collapsed onto Harry’s bed, hands pulling at his hair, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

            “What’s the big deal?” he asked. “Everyone already knows you’re gay.”

            “Yeah, me! Louis’s still in the closet!”

            Immediately, Harry’s heart dropped to his stomach. He’d assumed, since Zayn was out and was apparently with Louis, that he’d been out too.

            “Shit,” Zayn sighed, then ran from Harry’s room, making sure to yell back about how much he hated his stepbrother.

            Louis didn’t come over anymore after that. Only once, the following January, did Harry see the other boy.

            He’d come downstairs to see Zayn laying on his stomach and crying on the couch, which really wasn’t all that uncommon these days. His mom was sitting next to him, rubbing his back, and Harry froze.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked hesitantly. He didn’t talk much around Zayn anymore. He didn’t really talk much at all.

            “Louis’s coming over to say goodbye,” Lena explained.

            “Goodbye?” Harry asked, feeling sick and light-headed, though that was really nothing new these days either, as Harry found he could barely eat.

            “He has to go live with his gay uncle in America!” Zayn cried, sitting up and wiping his eyes furiously. “His mum’s boyfriend’s a piece of shit homophobe and wants them to have nothing to do with him now!”

            His entire body tingling unpleasantly, Harry looked back and forth from Lena to Zayn a few times. Lena gave him a small, sad smile but then leaned down to kiss the top of her son’s head as another loud sob wracked his body. Then the doorbell rang and Lena stood, slowly making her way to the front of the house as if she were trying to delay the inevitable by even a few seconds.

            “Hi, sweetie,” Lena said softly to whoever was at the door; Louis, presumably. Sure enough, Harry heard Louis’s voice, thick with tears, respond.

            “Hi, Lena. Is, um…is Zayn here?”

            “Of course. Come on in.”

            The front door closed and Zayn sat up, fruitlessly rubbing his eyes as tears continued to pour out of them. With a shuddering sigh, Zayn stood, glaring at Harry before making his way to the front, passing his mom who briefly patted his shoulder but headed upstairs, giving the boys some privacy. Harry should follow her. He didn’t deserve to say goodbye and surely Louis wouldn’t ever want to see him again. But his legs didn’t get the memo and he found them following the sound of Zayn and Louis’s shaky voices and sniffles.

            The two were hugging when Harry rounded the corner, Zayn’s back to Harry with Louis crying into this shoulder. Harry was about to turn and walk away when Louis looked up, locking eyes with Harry. His blue eyes were cerulean with unshed tears and Harry swallowed at the icy pain he saw in them.

            “Lou…,” Harry began, but what was he doing to say? ‘Sorry’ didn’t seem adequate, though Harry supposed it would be a decent enough place to start.

            However, before Harry could say anything, Louis’s gaze hardened, freezing him.

            “I hope you’re happy, Harry,” Louis said, spitting Harry’s name as if it were poison. “You ruined my fucking life.”

***

            Louis led Harry to the spare bedroom on the main floor and Harry gently shut the door behind them. The bed was still unmade from where it had been slept in the previous night and Louis climbed in, placing his pillow against the headboard to lean his back against and pulling the covers around his waist comfortingly. Harry sat at the end of the bed by the other’s feet but stayed quiet, letting Louis sort through his thoughts.

            “I’m sorry,” Louis said again, chewing his bottom lip.

            “You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Harry said, “but, like…are you okay?”

            “Yeah,” Louis said, though his eyes were welling with tears, going against his words. “I’m fine!” he insisted, wiping his eyes with his sleeve furiously. “I fucking hate crying in front of people.”

            “Want me to close my eyes?” Harry asked, only half-jokingly.

            “You’ve seen already,” Louis said with a small laugh. “The damage is done.”

            “Want me to cry with you? I can make myself cry; it’s a secret talent.”

            Harry could make himself cry, though he knew he’d barely have to try then. Seeing Louis cry tore at his heart, not only because it reminded him of that day all those years ago but because Louis had always seemed so happy and care-free when they were younger. Zayn could get surly sometimes, but Louis was always smiling and laughing; bright and loud.

            “No,” Louis said, and Harry had at least gotten him to laugh again. “We’ll just blame the fact that I’m still a little drunk and recovering from hypothermia.”

            “Deal,” Harry agreed, but when the small smile fell off Louis’s face again, he urged, “So what’s wrong? Why’d you run out?”

            “Because I’m always running, Harry,” Louis said, his voice small. “It’s what I do. I move at least every other year, switch jobs even more often, and end relationships before anyone else can. I’m restless and reckless, and Joey was about to break up with me so I-I panicked. I was going to break up with him anyway after this trip but the thought of him breaking up with me was terrifying, so I ran. Kind of forgot what the weather was like, honestly. When I need to leave, I can’t think of anything else. If…If I hadn’t seen you come out, I would have been gone, I think, and by the time my mind came back to me, it probably would have been too late.”

            Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Harry said, “In that case, please don’t tell me I shouldn’t have gone after you again, then, yeah?”

            Louis gave a slight nod.

            “Okay.”

            “And...Louis?”

            “Yeah?”

            Harry’s heart was hammering and his hands were clammy as he turned the words over in his mind that he should have said years ago.

            “I’m sorry.”

            Louis looked legitimately confused.

            “For what?”

            Harry’s forehead creased. ‘For what?’ How could Louis possibly not know the answer to that question? Of course, maybe he just wanted Harry to spell it out, which, fine. He would. Louis deserved that.

            “For…For everything,” Harry said, blinking against his own tears because he didn’t deserve to cry over this. “For outing you. I…I’d thought you were already out, but that doesn’t matter. I didn’t know. So, I’m sorry for that, and for forcing you to leave your home and your best friend. For taking away your safety net so now you’re restless and reckless. For ruining your life.”

            Louis had stopped actively crying but at Harry’s words, his eyes widened and another tear escaped.

            “Haz, you didn’t…Shit.”

            “What?” Harry asked, frowning because it was his turn to be confused.

            “You really took that to heart, didn’t you? The whole ‘ruining my life’ thing?”

            “Well, yeah, because I did.”

            “No, Harry,” Louis sighed. “You didn’t.”

            Louis sighed again and absently rubbed at his eyes.

            “Look…Thank you for apologizing. It’s accepted. But now I owe you an apology too.”

            “What?” Harry asked, dumbfounded. “No, you don’t! What the hell would you have to apologize for?”

            “Because you’ve gone all these years with those words floating around in your head, haven’t you? You were always so nice and caring and sweet and then to go on thinking you ruined my life…”

            Louis paused, chewed on his lip, and then sighed again before continuing.

            “I guess I’m not sorry that I said it because it had felt true at the time, but honestly, I don’t think things would have been much different if you hadn’t inadvertently outed me. My parents would have had to find out eventually and, yeah, maybe if I’d been eighteen or older they couldn’t have forced me into conversion therapy but-”

            “They sent you to conversion therapy?!” Harry interrupted, feeling sick. Looking a bit worried, Louis nodded.

            “Yeah, but even if I’d been eighteen, I probably would have gone willingly so that they wouldn’t kick me out of their lives. Not that it mattered. It didn’t work, obviously, and even though I tried to pretend it had, I guess they could see right through me because my mum’s boyfriend kicked me out anyway. My mum’s brother, who’s gay, said I could live with him, but I was trying to be straight, and he kicked me out once I got a girlfriend because he felt disrespected or whatever. I was okay. I was eighteen and had a job, so it wasn’t like he left me on the street or anything. But even if none of that ever happened-if I’d stayed in the closet my whole life and was never kicked out of anywhere-I’d still be restless and reckless because I’d be lying to myself, which wasn’t any better in the long run.”

            “Lou-” Harry began, though he didn’t know where he was going with his thoughts, and Louis carried on as if he hadn’t heard him anyway.

            “But, later, once I wasn’t so mad…I should have talked to you. Zayn had been asking me to; begging me, really. He said you’d been basically living in your room; that you barely ate. That you had to be homeschooled for a semester because you wouldn’t leave the house. But by the time I’d sorted my own shit out, it seemed like you were better. You’d gone back to school, had treatment, and started eating again, so I just figured, why open old wounds, you know? Didn’t see what good it would do. Or that’s what I told myself, but I think I was just a coward.”

            Well, that was…a lot. Harry hadn’t known that Zayn had told Louis of his struggles after the incident. He shouldn’t have because Louis clearly had enough on his plate because of Harry. It wasn’t his fault that Harry began having crippling anxiety attacks whenever he left the house or that he’d thought he didn’t deserve food. Certain foods triggered the pleasure receptors in the brain and Harry shouldn’t reward himself with it. He ate enough to survive but after fainting once as he went down the stairs, he’d been forced into therapy. Zayn started therapy too and eventually the two had sessions together, which had been for the best. Harry, although sometimes still overwhelmed with the feeling of being crushed by guilt, didn’t loathe himself anymore. He deserved some happiness, he realized. Similarly, Zayn didn’t cry himself to sleep anymore and the brothers grew closer than they ever had before.

            Louis hadn’t needed to be burdened with that information, though.

            “Louis,” Harry said slowly, “I don’t think ‘coward’ could ever be used to describe you. I should have apologized sooner but Zayn told me to give you time and then, like you, I just felt like it would be too little, too late. If felt it would have been more for my benefit than yours, which wouldn’t have been fair. I was the one who’d messed up, not you. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

            Louis chewed on his lip for a few moments, then sighed yet again.

            “So, all in all,” he concluded, “We’ve kind of done this to ourselves, huh?”

            Even though his chest still hurt, Harry couldn’t help but to laugh.

            “Maybe,” he said.

            “Well, then, even though you said I don’t need to, I’m going to apologize one more time and then we’re going to move on, all right?”

            Harry hummed noncommittally, resisting the urge to lace his fingers with Louis’s as the other fidgeted with the blankets.

            “I’m sorry for letting you carry much more guilt than was necessary for all these years,” Louis said.

            “Again, no apology was necessary,” Harry said, “but you’re forgiven. And I’m sorry for being stupid and jealous and outing you on Facebook.”

            “Jealous?”

            Harry blanched. Oh, shit. Oh, no. How had he let that slip? And why was Louis suddenly looking at him like that? With that curious look in his eye and the slightest smirk on his face?

            “Erm, yeah,” Harry said, trying to force out a laugh, though it probably sounded more like a whimper. Running an anxious hand through his hair and figuring that he had nothing to lose, he finally admitted, “I kind of, sort of, maybe, had a small crush on you when we were younger, so when I found out you were with Zayn or whatever, I got a little…jealous. Clearly, there were better ways to handle it, but-”

            “You were jealous,” Louis noted, his smirk turning to a grin, and Harry held in a sigh because didn’t they just cover this?

            “Yes,” he stated flatly.

            “Cute,” Louis said, and Harry groaned, picking up the pillow beside Louis and covering his face with it as he collapsed onto his back, his legs dangling off the bed.

            “It wasn’t ‘cute,’” Harry whined. “It was fucking pathetic, and I was dumb to ever let myself get so invested in what was so obviously an impossible fantasy.”

            “What was so impossible about it?”

            “Because Zayn was out, so I should have known that if you did like guys, it would be him you fell for and not me.”

            “Why’s that?”

            Thinking that Louis must just be getting some type of weird payback, Harry removed the pillow from his face and sat up to look at Louis, knowing his cheeks were red.

            “I don’t know, Louis,” he replied slowly. “Why don’t you tell me? You were with him, after all.”

            Louis laughed, shaking his head.

            “I wasn’t with him. We just…exchanged favors sometimes. As an experiment, really.”

            “You used my brother as a science experiment?”

            Louis laughed again. “He was happy to be used, thank you.”

            “Ugh.”

            Harry laid back down and Louis tapped his side with his foot.

            “I am happy you both had each other to figure things out with,” Harry said. “Even when I was being stupid about it, I was glad.”

            “Thanks, Haz.”

            Harry sat up again, hoping his abs could feel it in the morning, and then offered a small, sleepy smile to Louis.

            “Thanks for always letting me hang out with you and Zayn when we were little,” he said. “I know I was just Zayn’s annoying little brother, but it meant a lot to me.”

            Louis’s face suddenly sobered and his hand twitched as if he were going to touch Harry but decided against it.

            “Sure thing, Curly,” he said softly. The two stared at each other for what would have been an awkward amount of time, but strangely, Harry felt at peace. Perhaps he was just about to collapse, as he was suddenly quite exhausted.

            Proving this, Harry yawned.

            “You don’t actually have to stay in here with me,” Louis spoke, and the spell-or whatever it was-was broken. “I won’t run off in the night. But if you want to stay here, that’s fine too.”

            “Well, I think Zayn would have my head if he found out I left you alone, so I’ll stay, if that’s all right with you.”

            “Okay,” Louis giggled, then got up to turn the light off as Harry got comfortable under the covers. When Louis returned, he did the same.

            “Goodnight, Curly.”

            “Night, Blue.”

            Harry was already half asleep and so it took him a moment to register that Louis was still talking.

            “Hm? What?” he asked once he did realize, physically shaking himself a bit.

            “I said,” Louis began, and then paused hesitantly. Then, deciding to go for it, “I said that you weren’t annoying to me and that you were never just Zayn’s little brother.”

            He was too tired to open his eyes, but Harry felt a wide smile break across his face. He laid there, thoughts racing as he tried to find the right thing to say, but before he could, he fell asleep.

            When Harry woke the next morning, Louis was still next to him, staring at the ceiling. Deciding not to think about how nice it felt waking up next to Louis, Harry rubbed his eyes, the motion causing Louis to look over and smile.

            “Morning,” he said.

            “Good morning,” he croaked, and winced. “God, what time is it?”

            “Just after seven.”

            “And why are we awake this early on a holiday?”

            With a small laugh, Louis said, “I don’t know about you, but Liam poked his sweet little head in to check on us and woke me up, and I’ve been stressing too much to go back to sleep.”

            “Stressing? About what?”

            “I’m going to have to talk to Joey today. Like, actually talk. I don’t do that; if you’ll recall, I just run, and we’re probably going to break up.”

            “Maybe not,” Harry offered. “I know he was upset last night but you might work it out.”

            “I don’t think I want to,” Louis said, lowering his voice, “but I also don’t want to break up when we’re stuck in a cabin in the mountains together, so there’s that.”

            “Yeah, I suppose I can see why you’re having some anxiety,” Harry said, “but it will all be okay. It might hurt and/or be awkward, but it’s going to be okay. There’s no need to run.”

            “I won’t run,” Louis said. “I’m too hungover to run.”

            Harry gave a sympathetic laugh, then sat up and stretched his arms out in front of him.

            “I could use some water myself,” he said. “I’ll go get a couple bottles, some meds, and food, okay?”

            “Thank you, you’re the best.”

            Harry shouldn’t have felt so good about the compliment, but he did, so with a smile, he stood and padded to the kitchen, opening and closing the bedroom door quietly, both for Louis’s head and Niall still sleeping in the other room. Liam was sitting on the couch reading, his feet tucked underneath him as he sipped a coffee.

            “Morning,” he greeted quietly.

            “Good morning,” Harry returned.

            “How are you both this morning?” Liam asked.

            “Just a bit hungover, but warm.”

            Liam nodded. “Do you want me to fix you something for breakfast?” he offered.

            “Um, not yet, thanks. I was just going to take a little something back to the room, if that’s okay.”

            “Of course.”

            Harry nodded his thanks. He put a couple pieces of toast into the toaster and gathered a couple water bottles and some Ibuprofen as they heated. Once the bread was nice and toasty, Harry spread what he felt was the appropriate amount of peanut butter onto the bread, gathered all the items, somehow managing to open the bedroom door without dropping anything.

            “Thank you,” Louis said softly, accepting his piece of toast and water bottle from Harry, as well as the medicine. “It’s quiet out there. Is everyone still asleep?”

            “Everyone except Liam, it seems.”

            Louis nodded, taking a small bite of his toast. “I’ll go out after we eat so you can go back to sleep.”

            “I don’t think I’ll be able to,” Harry said with a shrug as he took a hearty bite of his own toast.

            “Oh,” Louis said. “Sorry.”

            “What for? You didn’t wake me up.”

            Louis seemed to ponder that but rather than try to come up with an answer, took a swig from his water bottle.

            “Are you okay?” Harry asked, because he felt like he should. “Besides the hangover and overwhelming anxiety, of course.”

            That earned him a grin and he smiled a little as well.

            “Yeah, besides those two things, I’m peachy,” Louis claimed.

            By the time they were finishing up with their food, the two heard Zayn come downstairs and decided to let him and Liam have a bit of time together but only a few minutes later, Niall was awake as well so Louis and Harry decided to join the others. Louis accepted a cup of coffee from Liam and took his time drinking it. When he’d finished and washed all the dirty dishes and Joey still hadn’t come upstairs, Louis sighed.

            “I guess I’ll, uh, go down and talk to JoJo.”

            “All right, Lou,” Zayn said. “Yell if you need anything. The basement walls are apparently not soundproof.”

            “They’re not?!” Liam and Louis asked at the same time, and Harry almost laughed when Louis glanced guiltily in his direction. His apparent guilt wasn’t helped when Zayn, with a small smirk on his face, said,

            “Not according to Haz, no.”

            Turning pink, Louis fish-mouthed a couple of times before fleeing down the stairs.

            “The basement is soundproof,” Liam insisted.

            “Then how was Harry forced to hear sexy noises coming from Louis and Joey’s room?”

            And fighting. Lots of fighting, Harry thought, but didn’t feel the needed to say.

            “Oh, well the rooms aren’t soundproof,” Liam said, understanding. “Just the outer walls so, like, if people wanted to stay up and play pool or whatever, it wouldn’t keep us awake up here.”

            “Well,” Zayn spoke slowly, “that would have been nice to know before I bragged about the soundproof rooms and told Louis to scream away.”

            Liam smiled sheepishly and Harry swore he was even blushing a little as well.

            “Sorry,” Liam said, looking at Harry, who could only laugh.

            “No harm done,” he said, “at least, not permanent damage.”

            “Well, since it’s partly soundproof…,” Niall said, and then cracked open the door leading to the basement just in case things got too heated.

            They didn’t, though. After about twenty-five minutes had passed, Louis came upstairs again, his eyes a little red, but otherwise composed. He shut the door behind himself and flushed as the others gazed at him expectantly.

            “Um,” he began, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Uh, Joey and I have decided to just be friends.”

            “Aw, I’m sorry, Lou,” Zayn said, leaving his fiancé’s side to give his best friend a hug. Niall waited a respectful amount of time before saying,

            “Well, this sounds like a perfectly valid reason to start drinking at, eh…nine AM.”

            “Niall,” Zayn chastised even as Louis laughed.

            “Mimosas are breakfast drinks, right?”

            While Niall made mimosas (after ensuring that they’d still have enough champagne for tomorrow; New Years Eve) Liam began making omelets. Zayn had gone upstairs to shower, leaving Louis and Harry on the couch, their knees only barely touching; just so Louis would know he wasn’t alone.

            After they’d all eaten breakfast, Louis announced that he was going to take an omelet to Joey, who was still holed in the basement.

            The guys had a lazy day, taking turns picking films and sipping mimosas. Harry didn’t think there was a single one of them that made it through all the movies as they’d also taken turns dozing off. It was perfect, he thought. It didn’t even snow that day.

            Louis invited Joey to join them when he took the other some lunch but said that his ex had been catching up on some work. Harry was selfishly glad.

            Harry ended up in the same bed as Louis that night. He wasn’t even quite sure how it had happened. Louis had gone to bed a bit early that night and after a couple drinks, Harry took his just-passed-the-point-of-drunk self to bed as well, and since that was where he’d slept last night, that was apparently where his legs decided to take him again. He knew Louis was there in the bed but hadn’t really registered it, and he sighed loudly as he collapsed onto the mattress, causing Louis to startle awake.

            “Oops. Sorry. Uh,” Harry said, but before he could get up and take himself down to his bedroom in the basement, Louis had scooted closer.

            “‘S’okay,” he said sleepily. “Cold. You’re warm.”

            “Well, glad I can be useful, then.”

            “You’re useful, Hazza,” Louis said, his voice thick, probably from sleep. Of course from sleep. “You’re useful and not annoying and not just Zayn’s little brother.”

            “Thanks, Lou.”

            “And warm. Very warm. Have you got a fever?”

            “No,” Harry said with a small laugh.

            “Huh.”

            Harry didn’t know what else to say and a minute later, Louis was asleep again.

            It wasn’t snowing the next day either and the sun was even shining a bit. Harry and Louis had woken at virtually the same time that morning, Louis somehow having snaked under Harry’s arm at some point in the night. After getting their showers, they joined Liam and Zayn for breakfast, Niall making his way out after a little bit.

            Louis took Joey some breakfast again and was just about to fix up a lunch plate for him a few hours later when the other man finally emerged from the basement, a suitcase in his hand.

            “Um. Hi,” he said, glancing around at the five others who were awkwardly staring at him.

            “Hey, JoJo,” Louis said, managing a small smile. “What’s up?”

            “I, uh, think I’m going to try to make it out of here. Lou, do you think you’ll be able to find a ride to the airport? I’ll drop the rental truck off and everything.”

            “We’ll make sure Louis gets to the airport,” Liam offered right away, “but are you sure? It’s going to take forever to unbury the truck and I’m not sure it will get very far anyway.”

            “Yeah, we don’t mind if you stay,” Louis added.

            “Not at all,” Zayn assured him.

            “Thanks, but I, eh…I have some work to catch up on still, you know?”

            Liam nodded like he didn’t believe Joey-which, naturally, Harry didn’t either-but rose to his feet.

            “Okay, well, let me get my coat on and stuff and I’ll help you unbury the truck.”

            “Oh, you really don’t have to. You’ve all been great. Thank you, really.”

            “Nah, we’re gonna help,” Niall decided, standing and stretching.

            “Oh, well, okay. Thanks.”

            It took almost as long for all six guys to bundle up as it did to unbury the truck and clear a path out of the driveway.

            “You’re gonna get stuck going down the hill,” Louis fretted once they were back inside, all but Joey taking off their coats, boots, and other Winter gear.

            “I’ll come back if I do,” Joey promised, giving Louis a small smile.

            “You’re of course welcome to come back,” Liam said, “but take the shovel with you, just in case.”

            “You sure?”

            Liam told him that he was, so Joey thanked him, accepted the hot cocoa he quickly made for him and then gave Louis a lingering hug. Harry looked away, not wanting to intrude on the moment or allow the misplaced feelings of jealousy he sometimes felt to arise.

            “Let me know when you’re back in town and safe?” Louis asked.

            “Of course,” Joey said. “I’ll leave my hotspot here so you can for sure get a connection.”

            “Okay, thanks. I’ll get it back to you, uh…sometime.”

            “Yeah, whenever.”

            With another slight smile, Joey brushed Louis’s hair out of his face and then sighed.

            “Well, I guess I better get to it.”

            After exchanging farewells and well wishes, Joey was gone.

            “You okay?” Zayn asked Louis, who was standing by the door, hugging himself.

            “He’s going to die,” Louis said.

            “If we don’t hear from him in a couple hours we’ll go searching,” Zayn said. “The truck should make a path we can walk fairly easily.”

            “Speak for yourself,” Niall commented, collapsing into one of the chairs by the television. “I’m not going after his suicidal arse. If I wouldn’t go after Harry and Louis when they were frolicking through the woods during a blizzard, I am not going after Joseph.”

            “Joaquin,” Louis said.

            “I was right!” Liam exclaimed at the same time Niall said,

            “What?”

            “His full name isn’t Joseph. It’s Joaquin.”

            “Then why the hell does he go by Joey?”

            “Exactly,” Zayn agreed, pouring himself and Liam some cocoa.

            “I don’t know,” Louis said with a giggle.

            “He sounds unstable, Louis. Glad you got rid of him,” Niall said, flicking on the television.

            An hour and twenty-five minutes later, Joey messaged Louis to let him know he’d made it into town. Niall popped a bottle of champagne; in celebration, he said.

            Without Joey there, the atmosphere seemed lighter, which maybe wasn’t fair to the other guy because he hadn’t been that bad, but Harry, for one, was glad that now it was just him and his four best friends. Well, him, his brother, his brother’s fiancé, his brother’s best friend, and Harry’s best friend. But still; all people he had a history with.

            Perhaps because of that, or maybe because of the champagne, Harry agreed to another round of karaoke. Also (more than likely because of the champagne), the five decided to hold their own boyband tribute show and perform all of the songs available to them by NSYNC and Backstreet Boys. Obviously, they were each assigned a separate member as well.

            Once they’d exhausted their voices and pride with karaoke, the guys went downstairs to play pool. With Louis’s help, Harry even managed to get a ball in the pocket. It was only afterward that he realized it was a solid when he was supposed to be hitting stripes, but his pride didn’t waiver and the guys gave him the point anyway.

            When it neared midnight, Niall pulled up a shaky video chat with Isla while Liam and Zayn curled up together on the couch to watch the ball drop with their glasses of champagne. Louis was seated next to Zayn and Harry perched himself on the arm of the couch next to him. The two were sipping champagne as well.

            “It’s almost the year of our wedding!” Zayn exclaimed, his eyes bright and shiny, when the one-minute countdown began.

            “Aww, babe! I can’t wait to be a Malik-Payne!” Liam said back, much the same way.

            “Isla says you two are very cute together!” Niall yelled drunkenly.

            “Aww!” Zayn and Liam said at the same time, and then kissed. Glancing at each other, Harry shook his head while Louis rolled his eyes, though both were smiling.

            While Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Isla screamed along once the countdown reached the ten second mark, Louis and Harry continued sipping their drinks, amused and content smiles on their faces. They joined in on the ‘happy new Years’ cheers and watched fondly as Niall kissed his phone. Harry was less fond of the way Zayn stuck his tongue in Liam’s mouth right in front of everyone, but he still couldn’t help but to grin.   

            “So,” Zayn said, smacking his lips together once he finally pulled away from Liam and looked at his single friends. “Did you two kiss?”

            “What?” Louis laughed, nearly choking on his champagne. “No…”

            “Well, what are you waiting for?!” Zayn asked incredulously. “You two’ve only been wanting to kiss for, like, twenty years! And it’s New Years! Kiss!”

            His empty champagne glass lost somewhere in the couch, Zayn used both hands to push Louis sideways into Harry, who then fell off the arm of the couch. Luckily, they’d finished their drinks as well and placed their empty glasses on the coffee table before that happened.

            “Shit,” Louis muttered as Zayn cackled and Liam gently chastised him. “Haz, you okay?”

            “Yeah,” Harry said, sitting up and offering a small smile to Louis, who was standing above him. Louis offered a hand and Harry accepted it, rising to his feet with help from the other.

            “Kiss!” Zayn yelled hopefully. A grin flickered across Louis’s face and then, looking in Harry’s eyes, he lifted his hand and pressed his lips against the back.

            “How romantic,” Harry said, his voice teasing even as heat rose to his cheeks.

            “Awww!” Liam, Niall, and even Isla, who had no idea what was going on, cooed.

            “That’s not what I fucking meant!” Zayn protested.

            “I’m tired,” Louis said, dropping Harry’s hand. “I’m going to wash up and go to bed.”

            “Night, Lou,” Liam said, echoed by the others.

            “Goodnight,” Louis returned.

            Since his toiletries were still in the basement bathroom, Louis headed downstairs to wash up. Harry had expected him to come back up and sleep in the bed he’d been using for the past couple of nights, but he didn’t, and Harry realized that he must have stayed in his old room now that Joey was gone.

            Thirty or so minutes later, the rest of the men decided to call it a night as well. As Harry descended the basement stairs, he was surprised to hear the sound of pool balls cracking against each other.

            “Ah, shit,” Louis said quietly and, grinning, Harry went down the stairs a little faster, Louis turning to face him as he reached the bottom.

            “Finally,” he sighed. “I thought you were going to stay up there and party all night.”

            “Sorry, didn’t realize you were waiting up for me.”

            “Hm. Well, I was just thinking that I feel like a bit of a flight risk tonight and wanted to see if you’d like to stay in the room with me. Just in case.”

            “Well, it’s not snowing anymore but it is still rather cold so I suppose I should. For your sake, of course.”

            “Of course.”

            “And mine,” Harry continued, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

            “What?”

            “And my sake too because I don’t feel like running after you again, but I will.”

            A small, sleepy smile softened Louis’s features and, wow, he was beautiful. Spurred on by that and the alcohol, Harry added, “I always will.”

            The two stared at each other, dazed, and then Harry shook himself and cleared his throat, his face hot again.

            “Um,” he coughed. “Can I wash up without you fleeing?”

            “Yes, I suppose. I’ll be waiting. Which bed do you prefer?”

            Harry was about ready to say that it didn’t matter but then he remembered the noises and said, “Mine. Er, the one I was sleeping in, if that’s okay.”

            “Sure.”

            With a smile, Louis placed his pool stick in the holder and went to the bedroom. Harry quickly washed up and then went to join. He mostly expected Louis to be asleep by the time he was through washing up but when he entered the bedroom, Louis was sitting up, his back against the headboard.

            “Was this your side?” he asked.

            “What?”

            “Was this the side of the bed you were sleeping on?”

            “Oh. No. I mean, it wouldn’t matter anyway, but no.”

            “Okay.”

            Harry got in bed, laying on his side to face Louis who, after a minute, laid down as well.

            “Zayn was right, you know,” he spoke again after a minute.

            “About what?” Harry asked, his voice sleepy even though, for some reason, his mind was suddenly wide awake.

            “About me wanting to kiss you for like twenty years. Well, maybe not quite twenty years, but close. Actually, probably twenty years.”

            “You’re drunker than I thought,” Harry commented, not allowing himself to believe the other’s words were genuine. Even though he still clearly had feelings for Louis, he couldn’t imagine a world where they were returned, and even if they were, Louis lived in America. He’d be flying back in a week or less, and then Harry would probably never see him again. If he did, it wouldn’t be enough for a relationship. There was no possible scenario where Louis admitting his feelings for Harry wouldn’t end in heartbreak. Harry wasn’t strong enough for that.

            “I’m not drunk.” Louis said, and then amended, “Well, I am a little, but I know what I’m saying and feel the same way when I’m sober.”

            “Louis…”

            “No, it’s okay. I know you said the other day that you had a little crush on me when were younger, but I get that’s all it was. I’m not saying all this because I expect you to feel the same way. I just wanted to let you know the reasons I didn’t kiss you were because, first, you don’t feel that way and, secondly, if you did and we’d waited all this time, I’d want it to be special. And also, I wanted to tell you that you should stop dating shitheads.”

            “What?!” Harry laughed, slightly hysterically, because none of what Louis just said made sense.

            “Zayn told me you only date shitheads.”

            “Um, firstly, I think Zayn’s met, like, two people that I’ve dated because I haven’t really dated anyone long-term. But also, he says the same thing about you.”

            “That I’m a shithead?!”

            “No! That you date shitheads.”

            “Oh. He said that?”

            “I mean, maybe not in those exact words, but yeah.”

            “Huh.”

            “Also…about everything else you said…What?”

            “Never mind, Haz,” Louis said with a small laugh. “Forget I said anything. I don’t want to make things awkward.”

            “No, it’s not awkward, it’s just…I…you were with Zayn, though.”

            “We weren’t, like, together or anything,” Louis explained again. “We never even went all the way; just messed around a bit to figure things out.”

            That was almost exactly what Zayn had said. As Harry pondered this, Louis added,

            “Besides, that ended when I told him I liked you.”

            “What?!”

            Harry perhaps needed to get his hearing checked. Or maybe he had an undiagnosed auditory processing delay. Or maybe he was drunk. He was going to go with the last option.

            “I know,” Louis said with a small laugh. “It was probably pretty fucked up of me to tell the guy I’d been fooling around with-who was also my best friend-that I fancied his brother.”

            “…What?”

            “Harry,” Louis began with a small laugh. “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah, yeah. Just…processing. Or trying to. When’d you tell him that?”

            “Erm, pretty soon before everything happened, I guess.”

            “Everything, like the Facebook post?”

            “Yeah.”

            Harry remained silent, thinking. Was that why Zayn had been so needlessly harsh with him that day? Why he’d been tearing Harry apart by picking at all the things he knew he was insecure about? It wouldn’t make it right, of course, but it would make a hell of a lot of sense.

            “Haz?” Louis asked reluctantly. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to go to the other bed?”

            “No, no,” Harry said quickly, briefly touching Louis’s arm as if that would freeze him in place. “Just…still processing.”

            “Okay. Well, I’ll give you a minute then.”

            Louis grew silent, allowing Harry time to think, though suddenly that became nearly impossible for him to do.

            “There’s no way, even if you did have some weird crush on me or whatever-”

            “Why would having a crush on you be weird?”

            Harry ignored that, not wanting to lose focus.

            “-There’s no way you could still have feelings for me. Not after what I did.”

            “Harry,” Louis said, and Harry thought his voice sounded a little sad and, shit; did he know how to do anything besides make Louis sad? “I thought we went over this yesterday. You’re sorry. I forgive you.”

            “Yeah, and you’re a stronger person than I could ever be for that but forgiving me and wanting to kiss me are two totally different things.”

            “Well, I mean, no; they’re not connected but that doesn’t mean they’re not both true.”

            A beat of silence passed and then Louis added lightly, “Hell, if I knew how attractive you are now, I would have been sure to let you know you were forgiven a while ago.”

            Harry let out a small, surprised laugh and then kicked off the top blanket, suddenly a little too warm.

            “So, you didn’t think I was attractive back then? You just wanted to kiss me and see if I changed from a toad to something more pleasant?”

            “No, you absolute knob!” Louis said, laughing as well. “Obviously teenage me thought you were cute but adult me was still pleasantly surprised at what puberty did for you.”

            “Thanks?”

            “Don’t mention it, Curly.”

            “But Louis…”

            “Yes?”

            “What I did was terrible. Even if it didn’t ruin your life and you do forgive me-”

            “It didn’t and I do.”

            “-That doesn’t make it okay.”

            “Look, Harry,” Louis sighed, and Harry braced himself; for what; he didn’t know. “No, all right, it wasn’t okay. But you thought I was out of the closet, right?”

            “Well, yeah, but-”

            “So there was no malicious intent. At least, not really. Zayn posted that photo of you first and you were retaliating to embarrass him. That’s all, right?”

            “I wanted to embarrass you, too,” Harry murmured.

            “Hm?”

            “You ‘laugh’ reacted to the photo of me, so I wanted to embarrass you, too. I didn’t want to out you, but I did, so either way, intent doesn’t matter. My intent was still pretty shit, though.”

            “Harry,” Louis sighed again. “Haz, Hazza, Curly…I get that. Obviously I get that, being on the receiving end, but I think you’ve hated yourself enough for the both of us. And I hate that you have because one mistake made as a silly fourteen-year-old doesn’t mean you’re not a good person. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness or…or to get what you want out of life. I’m the one you feel you hurt the most, yeah? So I’m saying, if you want to make it up to me, then let it go. And if you’d like, you could kiss me too. But no pressure. About the kissing thing, I mean. All the pressure to let the guilt go, though.”

            Even as tears formed in his eyes, infuriatingly and against his will, Harry laughed.

            “I’ll do my best,” he said, swallowing down the waterworks. “And about the kissing thing…Well, I’d love to, but I thought you wanted it to be special?”

            “Harry, I’ve waited twenty years. How could it not be special?”

            With that being said, Harry reached out slowly in the dark, his fingers finally finding Louis’s shirt. He tugged gently and, getting the message, Louis scooted closer. Louis gently touched Harry’s face; his cheek first, then his jaw until, finally, he found his lips. Satisfied that he knew where his target was, Louis scooted even closer and, cupping the back of Harry’s head, gently moved his head down until their lips met.

            Harry gasped into the kiss, almost making Louis pull away, but Harry held him there, savoring the kiss another few seconds before the two let each other go, out of breath even though they really shouldn’t have been.

            Why had none of Harry’s kisses felt like that before? Sure, kissing was always nice. It was fun. But Harry never had a kiss that electrified his body with anything other than pure sexual desire. It never made him want to stare in someone’s eyes for days (and the fact that he couldn’t see the blue of Louis’s eyes right now in the dark was somewhat of a tragedy.) It never made Harry want to get to know more about the other person, but suddenly he wanted to know everything about Louis, from his favorite color and TV show to the parts of his childhood he hadn’t seen and his deepest, darkest secret.

            After a few breathless moments, Louis cleared his throat.

            “Well, good talk, Curly. Hope to do it again sometime.”

            Harry wasn’t sure if Louis meant the actual talking part or the kiss, but personally, he would be down for both.

            Luckily for him, the next day was spent precisely doing those things.

            When the two woke up the next morning, Louis curled into Harry’s side again, they shared sleepy smiles before Louis distanced himself a bit; just enough to not hit Harry in the face with his elbow as he rubbed his eyes.

            “Morning,” Harry greeted softly, unable to believe how lucky he was to get to wake up next to the other man, even if it never happened again.

            “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

            “Great,” Harry said, thinking only about their kiss. “You?”

            “Fine,” Louis said, which was a little disheartening until Louis mentioned needing water and Harry remembered that they had had a fair amount of champagne the previous day. Then, of course, he worried for a different reason. Was that the only reason Louis had kissed him last night? Harry hadn’t been too drunk, and Louis had seemed at about the same level as him but maybe he’d been hiding his intoxication well.

            Oh god, did Louis even remember the kiss?

            “Haz?”

            Harry blinked himself back to reality, focusing his guilty expression on Louis, who frowned.

            “You don’t look like you’re doing ‘great.’ What’s wrong?”

            “No, I’m fine, it’s just that…Erm…Do you remember all of last night?”

            “Yes,” Louis said, thought it sounded a little like a question and he raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t that drunk.”

            “Oh. Okay. So…you’re okay that we…That we kissed?”

            “Of course,” Louis said, his face relaxing into a small smile. “I was hoping to do more of it today. Just, you know, after I get some water and brush my teeth.”

            “Oh,” Harry said again, smiling a little. “Okay. I mean, yeah, we can definitely do that.”

            Louis grinned and sat up, stretching his arms and back before crawling out of bed.

            “Were you actually worried that I wouldn’t remember our kiss?”

            “Um, yeah, a bit.”

            “Cute.”

            Harry felt his face heat but sat up, watching as Louis put his slippers on.

            “You want anything besides water?” Louis asked.

            “Uh, no, not yet, but I’m getting up. Need to brush my teeth as well.”

            When the two made their way upstairs, Harry was surprised to see Niall already up and dressed, leaning against the island and eating an apple while scrolling through his phone.

            “Hey, Ni. Up already or did you not go to bed yet?” Louis, apparently thinking along the same lines as Harry, asked.

            “Morning, Lou; Haz. I got a couple hours of sleep but I’m actually getting ready to leave.”

            “What?!” Louis asked, staring at Niall as he opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water for himself and Harry.

            “Yeah. I miss Isla, so I booked a flight last night. It doesn’t leave until this evening, but I’ve got to pack and get down the mountain. Already unburied my car with a spare shovel Liam found.”

            “Aww,” Louis said, touching his chest briefly. “I’ve never seen Niall in love before! This is precious!”

            “Shut up,” Niall laughed, turning red. Changing the subject, he asked, “What about you two? Did you fuck last night?”

            “Oh my god,” Harry said.

            “Never mind, he’s the same old Niall,” Louis sighed. “Not that it’s your business but no, Niall. I don’t fuck before the first date.”

            “Yes, you do.”

            “Okay, well, not this time.”

            Harry suddenly felt tingly. Did this mean Louis wanted to date him? Or was that just a roundabout way of saying he would never want to have sex with Harry?

            It was too early in the morning for this many conflicting emotions. Harry began brewing coffee.

            “Zayn and Liam still asleep?” Louis asked.

            “Yeah. Or in bed, at least.”

            “Niall, save that energy for Isla.”

            With a small smirk, Niall took another bite of his apple.

            “Ugh,” Louis said, then pulled two mugs out of the cupboard next to Harry’s head, touching Harry’s waist as he did so, though probably to help balance himself since he had to stand on his tiptoes to get them. Harry bit the insides of his cheeks so he wouldn’t smile too widely at that observation.

            “Can you pour me some too, please, Curly?” Louis asked, setting the mugs on the counter. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

            “Sure, but the coffee might taste weird after you brush your teeth.”

            “Well, I need both, so I’ll take the risk. I won’t think any less of your coffee-making abilities, I promise.”

            “All right. How do you take it?”

            “Cream, two sugars.”

            “Okay, I’ll be down in a minute.”

            “‘Kay. I’ll get your water.”

            “Thanks.”

            Picking up both water bottles, Louis went downstairs. Harry found that he was grinning and schooled his face back into place before turning to face Niall, who was smirking knowingly.

            “What?” Harry asked, his cheeks starting to burn again, though he didn’t even know why this time.

            “Nothing,” Niall claimed. “Just glad to see you two getting along, is all.”

            Not knowing what else to say or do, Harry shrugged. Finished with the coffees, he asked, “Let us know before you go?”

            “Will do.”

            Harry stopped by the bathroom to brush his teeth before returning to the bedroom, deciding he’d rather risk weird-tasking coffee than Louis kissing him before he brushed his teeth.

            “Thank you,” Louis said, accepting the mug with his coffee from Harry and taking a sip.

            “You’re welcome,” Harry replied, carefully settling himself on the bed next to the other.

            “So, Harry, tell me; how’s life been since you were fourteen?”

            And so Harry gave Louis a brief summary of the last thirteen years of his life. He skipped the parts directly after Louis had left his life-they’d discussed that enough the other night, he figured. Instead, he told him about university and work. He told him how his and Niall’s friendship had been solidified when, having been up all night studying, Niall had fallen asleep during a work meeting and fell out of his chair. Almost unthinkingly, Harry had yelled ‘he fainted!’ and proceeded to pretend to bring Niall out of unconsciousness while Niall, fighting to not laugh, slowly made himself appear to come to. He talked about buying his first house, which he still lived in, and how he needed to get a new car, as his had to be jumped at least every other month despite the battery being new.

            In turn, Louis told him about life in America. He had been living in Nevada, as Harry had thought, but moved to Arizona about five months ago, though he couldn’t say why besides that it was ‘time for a change.’           

            “How are you liking it?” Harry asked as he deflated a bit, remembering that this-whatever this was-was temporary because he and Louis lived an ocean apart.

            “Erm, it’s okay, but my lease is almost up-just got a six month one since it’s less restrictive-and I don’t think I’ll renew it.”

            “Oh? Where do you think you’ll go next?”

            “I don’t know. Maybe back here.”

            Harry took a sip from his mug to hide his smile. He shouldn’t be getting hopeful. Louis had said maybe. But still, he did hope, a little.

            “Um…,” Harry began, not knowing if he had the right to ask what was on his mind. “So, your mum and stuff…I mean, you don’t have to answer, and feel free to tell me to shut the fuck up, but I was just wondering if you talk to your family now?”

            “You’re fine, Harry. You can ask me anything. I may have some hard-hitting questions for you as well. But yeah, we talk. My mum left her boyfriend when I was nineteen and she tried to get me to come back home, but I was still angry with her at that point and plus I figured she just wanted me home to take care of her and my sisters, so I stayed in the US but I still talked to her at least once a month, and it’s more like once a week now that she’s a little more sober.”

            “Did she, um…”

            When Harry trailed off, Louis smiled at him encouragingly. “Go on, Harry.”

            “Did she drink a lot when you were younger?”

            “Yeah. She’d go through a bottle of wine pretty much every night and sip on something or other throughout the day, except when she was pregnant, but whenever she was pregnant, she had to be hospitalized to get her through the withdrawals. She couldn’t keep a job, so her boyfriend supported us for the most part, but he spent most of his money on alcohol too so we didn’t have a lot. That’s part of the reason your parents let me stay over so much, I think. We never starved or anything…Sometimes we’d just have to eat peanut butter for a few days until Geroge, the boyfriend, got paid again, but Lena and Edward always sent me home with so much food until my mum got offended. Then they’d just send me back with small snacks that I could hide.”

            After a brief pause during which Harry struggled to find the right thing to say without crying, Louis added,

            “They called Children’s Services on my parents once.”

            “Lena and my dad?” Harry asked, shocked and a little horrified, although he wouldn’t have been able to honestly say he wouldn’t have done the same.

            “Yeah. Well, we don’t know it was them since the reports are confidential, but we figured that’s who did it, and it’s fine. My sisters and I didn’t get taken away or anything; just got monitored for a few months so the social worker could make sure us kids were eating and that George and my mum got enrolled in treatment for alcohol addiction. George and mum were pissed though, obviously, and didn’t let me go over to your place for a few months, but once our case was closed, they went back to their old ways so the girls were sent off to their grandparents’ on weekends and summers and I got to go back to your place.”

            “You didn’t want to go to your grandparents’ with them?”

            “They’re not technically my grandparents. Geroge is my sisters’ dad, but mine left when I was small, so…And George’s parents weren’t mean to me or anything. I went over there on the weekends that Zayn went to his dad’s, and they told me they loved me. They always got me Christmas presents and gave me money for my birthday, like the girls, but I was a bit…hyperactive, as you know, so it was just too much for them to watch me all the time.”

            “Well, I’m glad you spent so much time at our place,” Harry said, his voice thick.

            “Me, too,” Louis agreed with a smile.

            “I’m sorry, though. I didn’t know you were going through all that.”

            “It wasn’t that bad,” Louis said with a shrug. “It was my norm. Sometimes it was hard to go back home after spending the weekend or summer with your family and realizing how different things could be, but it usually wasn’t that hard because I loved my mum and sisters. I was always happy to see them again.”

            “But not George?”

            “Nah. We didn’t hate each other or anything. Well, until later, of course. But we never had much of a relationship.”

            Harry nodded, wanting to reach out and touch Louis but he didn’t know if that would be weird. Besides, Louis didn’t look nearly as upset about telling Harry all of this as Harry felt about hearing it so he thought he probably wanted to touch him for his own comfort, which would have been selfish.

            “I’m glad your mum’s doing a bit better and you two managed to make up,” he finally said. “What about your sisters?”

            “They were fairly young when I moved to America, but we all talk now, sometimes.”

            “How many sisters do you have?”

            “Five.”

            “Wow.”

            “Yeah, and since they’re all younger, I think that’s why I was such a show-off. Had to get attention somehow.”

            Louis laughed as he said it and Harry smiled along, though he found it heartbreaking. He didn’t understand how someone like Louis ever had to fight for attention when the rest of Harry’s world barely existed while he was around.

            Taking the conversation full circle, Louis said, “But my youngest sister is grown now and can take care of herself so there’s no reason not to come back.”

            Harry wondered if there was any reason he would.

            After finishing their coffee, the two laid down again, eventually settling with Harry on his back and Louis between his legs with his chin resting on his hands, which were folded together on top of Harry’s stomach. They continued to talk, their conversations ranging from ‘what’s your favorite color’ (red was Louis’s, blue was Harry’s) to their mental health (Louis wanted to ensure Harry’s ‘food problem’ had been resolved, having noted Harry skipping dessert their first night and not understanding how someone couldn’t like birthday cake). Louis eventually admitted that, while he’d never been fully dependent on alcohol, he cut back a lot after realizing he was drinking on more nights than he wasn’t. That, of course, made Harry angrier at the fact that Joey had said that he’d wished Louis would start drinking again, but since Louis didn’t know he’d overheard that comment, Harry let it go for the time being.

            “How did your mum pass away?” Louis asked softly. “Your birth mum, I mean.”

            “Brain aneurysm,” Harry replied. “She didn’t have many symptoms, I guess; none that seemed that serious, at least, so it came as a surprise to my dad. One morning she was complaining of a small headache and my dad was going to stay home to take care of me while she rested but she insisted she was fine. Luckily, he came home for lunch to check on us because that’s when it happened.”

            Louis was staring up at Harry with wide, sad eyes and so, trying to add what little bit of humor he could, Harry added,

            “She was holding me when she fell, so she dropped me. Zayn always said that’s why I talk slow.”

            “Oh my god!”

            Louis looked even more upset at that, so perhaps it wasn’t humorous to someone who hadn’t spent their life trying to find something light out of what seemed like an unfair, pointless side of life.

            Louis continued, “Zayn told me you got dropped on your head as a baby, but I always just thought he was being a dick-ish older brother.”

            Harry gave a small laugh, causing Louis to slowly blink at him.

            “No, that was, unfortunately, true.”

            “Were you seriously injured?”

            “Nah, I don’t think I fell right on my head. My dad said they kept me in the hospital for a couple days for observation, but I was okay.”

            Louis nodded, though didn’t appear to feel much better.

            “And…um…This is probably a stupid question but are brain aneurysms genetic?”

            “That’s not a stupid question,” Harry assured him. “And kind of, I guess. The causes of the aneurysm can be and your chance of having one increase if someone in your family has had one, but my mum’s was because of high blood pressure, they figure. She’d had high blood pressure since she was a teenager. But my blood pressure is fine so far, so they’re not too concerned. My dad would always freak out a bit when I was younger if I mentioned having a headache-Lena and Zayn, too but more so for me-but he seems better now. Maybe because I don’t tend to tell him when I have one, but…I don’t think I’m anymore at risk than the general population.”

            “Good,” Louis said softly, placing a kiss on Harry’s arm.

            Niall left around lunchtime, taking a sandwich to go. Louis made him promise to let someone know when he’d made it to town and then to the airport, and they all shared hugs before Niall left.

            “You two’ve been quiet today,” Zayn noted as the remaining four ate lunch together.

            “We’ve had a lot of catching up to do,” Louis said with a shrug.

            “Yeah?” Zayn asked, looking cautiously between his brother and best friend.

            “Yep,” Louis replied. “Your brother’s pretty awesome, Z.”

            “I guess he’s all right,” Zayn said, winking at Harry to show that he was teasing.

            “So,” Louis continued, “and I’m only asking this as a formality because Harry’s a grown man who can make his own decisions, but I’d like to have your blessing to take him on a date, if he agrees.”

            Harry was glad he’d swallowed his bite of food before Louis finished that sentence.

            “Yeah?” Zayn asked again, one eyebrow nearly meeting his hairline.

            “Yep,” Louis repeated. “I’m going to ask him regardless, but as my best friend, former fooling-around partner, and Harry’s older brother, I wanted to run it by you first, respectfully.”

            At the ‘former fooling-around partner,’ part, Harry glanced at Liam to gauge his reaction, but Liam looked wholly unbothered so maybe there really hadn’t been more to Zayn and Louis’s intimacy than that.

            “Sure, Lou, you can ask him, but Hazza; I think there are a couple things you and I need to discuss first.”

            Louis raised an eyebrow as Harry’s stomach flip-flopped. Standing, Zayn placed his napkin on his nearly empty plate and said, “Haz, when you’re done, will you come upstairs for a few minutes?”

            Knowing he wouldn’t be able to eat anymore now, Harry stood as well and followed Zayn up the steps without a backward glance to the other two. Zayn led Harry to the bedroom he and Liam had been sharing, sat on the edge of the bed, and nodded, inviting Harry to do the same. He did, though almost felt too antsy to do so.

            “Is everything okay?” Harry asked after a good twenty or so seconds passed without Zayn saying anything; just studying his hands.

            “Yeah,” the other man said, looking up and giving his brother a soft smile. “Just trying to figure out where to start. See, I owe you an apology, H, and you know I’m not very good at apologizing.”

            “You apologized to me the other night,” Harry said with a shrug. “I don’t think you owe me another.”

            “I did?”

            “Yeah, the night you, Lou, Joey, and Niall smoked. You were telling stories from when you were younger and apologized for picking on me, or whatever.”

            “Oh, yeah. Well, that’s not what I’m talking about now.”

            Harry remained quiet as Zayn chewed his lip, apparently turning the words over in his head.

            “Okay,” he finally said. “So, I need to apologize for my part in what happened with Louis.”

            “Oh, Zayn, no you don’t-”

            “Let me finish before you tell me I don’t have to apologize, all right?”

            Closing his mouth firmly, Harry nodded.

            “So…I was always kind of jealous of you, you know.”

            Harry frowned because he had not known that. What did Zayn have to be jealous of him about?

            Answering his unspoken question, Zayn explained.

            “For so many years, it had just been my mum and me. She worked a lot then, before she married your dad, but when she wasn’t working, I had all of her attention. Well, I guess sometimes she wasn’t working; she was probably seeing your dad, but I thought she was working. Anyway, it came as a shock when she told me she was getting married, but it didn’t really sink in how much things were going to change until it was done. We-you and I-didn’t even meet until they were engaged, and I think my mum thought I would be excited to get a brother, and I was, until I realized we’d be living together. And it wasn’t because of you personally or anything, I was just used to being my mum’s world, but then there was you; five years old and so hungry for a full family. My mum, of course, thought you were the cutest thing. She’d go on and on about your curls, your big eyes, and your dimples, and she felt bad that you hadn’t had a mum around for so long. Your dad loved you and did a great job of caring for you on his own, but my mum thought there was something different and special about a mother’s love and she damn near tried to smother you with hers, which you ate up. And it’s fine; I get it now and it’s not like she ignored me once you and Edward came into the picture. She still spent time with me and told me that she loved you and me equally, but at the time, I thought she should love me more, you know? I was hers, and I guess I felt like if she loved us equally, then she wouldn’t have loved me as much if she hadn’t been obligated to. Sometimes I thought she was lying and that she loved me less anyway. It was stupid, but…”

            Zayn shrugged, looking uncomfortable, and Harry was about ready to speak; tell him it wasn’t stupid, although Lena had never loved him less, and that he was sorry he had felt that way and that Harry had never realized it. Before he could, Zayn continued.

            “It got a bit better when I was a teenager because I didn’t want her attention as much, but then Louis…”

            Zayn trailed off again; paused, then took a deep breath. As he did, Harry remembered to breathe too.

            “I think my feelings for Louis went a little deeper than his feelings for me, but he was so…fragile when he came out to me that I didn’t put a label on what we were; thought it would scare him more. But I still thought we were more than what we were. Then one day, he was asking me about what I thought of your sexuality. I didn’t think much of the conversation, at first, and I told him the truth; that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure but thought you liked guys. I’d seen the way you looked at him, though I didn’t tell him that part. But then he told me that he hoped you did because he ‘kind of liked you,’ and when I questioned him more about that, he admitted he had a crush on you, and it just…felt like it was all happening again. Like someone else was choosing you over me. And I was afraid that’s how it would always be.”

            Zayn took another deep breath and Harry opened his mouth to try and speak again, but Zayn carried on before he got a word out.

            “That’s why, that day with the post…I was being so mean to you that day, thinking it would make me feel better, which it didn’t, if that helps. So I can’t blame you for retaliating. I wish Louis hadn’t been caught in the crossfire, but I deserved it, and afterward, well…I should have said something sooner. You went so long blaming yourself, but it’s on me, too, and I’m sorry.”

            Although he’d thought he had so much to say before, Harry suddenly felt speechless. Zayn looked so sad, scared, and vulnerable in front of him and, though he’d seen him like that before-drunk on the bathroom floor after a breakup or when he got a poor remark on a midterm and considered dropping out of veterinary school-this was different.

            “Zayn,” Harry began, mostly to make sure his vocal cords still worked. “Thank you for telling me all that and thank you for apologizing, but it’s okay. I mean, I understand. I didn’t then, but I do now. And I’m sorry you felt that way about me, particularly with your mum. I was never, like, trying to take her attention from you or anything, and Little Harry would have been devastated that you felt like I was competition because I looked up to you so much. I was nothing like you, and I knew I never could be, but I wanted to be. I loved your mum and was happy to finally have one, but I was happier to have a brother and I was-I still am-glad it’s you.”

            Zayn stared, then, as a tear slid down his cheek, he cursed and stood, wiping his eyes with his back to Harry. The younger brother gave him a moment and when Zayn turned around, he’d managed to compose himself.

            “You too,” he said, swallowing hard, and even though it wasn’t a complete thought, Harry knew what he meant. ‘I’m glad you’re my brother, too.’

            “Also,” Harry continued, this part hurting, though he meant the words he spoke. “I’m sorry Louis told you that he had a crush on me. I’m sure that hurt and I won’t date him if you don’t want me to. Honest. No hard feelings over it, either.”

            “What?” Zayn said, frowning. “No, Haz, it’s okay. Look, the first time I visited Louis after he moved, I thought I’d have deeper feelings for him than I even had before. I thought we’d realize we were in love or whatever, but honestly, when I saw him after being separated for almost, I felt…nothing. I mean, I was happy to see him, of course, and I still thought he was pretty, because he is, but that’s as deep as the feelings went. We tried to kiss at the airport before I went back home, but neither one of us could stop laughing. It felt so…weird. From that point on, we both decided that we were best mates-nothing more, nothing less, and now I have Liam and I’m so happy and in love that you could tell me you’re banging any of my exes and I wouldn’t care. Don’t do that, though, because you deserve better than them all.”

            “Don’t worry,” Harry said with a small laugh. “I’m not interested in any of them except Louis.”

            “Who technically isn’t an ex,” Zayn pointed out, “and also not a piece of shit. Although he does have some commitment issues and lives in America so I’m a little worried about you dating him, if I’m honest. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

            “I know. Lou and I talked a bit about how he, uh…can’t stay in one place. But he mentioned maybe moving back here and if he does, I think I’d like to take a chance that maybe he’ll stay.”

            Zayn nodded.

            “If that’s what you really want, then you have my blessing, and as long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy for you.

            “Thanks, Z,” Harry said. “Can we hug?”

            “Not right now. I’ll cry,” Zayn said, and when Harry frowned, added, “I’m okay, I promise. Just…I’m not good at talking about things, but I love you and I hope you never doubted that. I’ll be on your side no matter what. Got it?”

            “Got it,” Harry said with a small salute that made Zayn laugh. “You, too.”

            Zayn gave a quick smile and then took another deep, shuddering breath. “We’ll hug it out later. For now, do you want to get back downstairs before Liam comes to check on us bearing tea and biscuits or some shit like that?”

            “Sure,” Harry conceded with a laugh. “I’m so glad you have Liam. You couldn’t have found someone better for you.”

            “I know,” Zayn admitted, softening. “Come on, Best Man.”

            “Did your chat with Zayn go okay?” Louis asked when he and Harry returned to the basement after helping clean up the mess from lunch.

            “Yeah, it was good,” Harry said. “He told me he was jealous of me when we were little though, which was shocking.”

            “Was it?”

            “Well…yeah. Did you know?”

            “He never said as much, but it was kind of obvious,” Louis said with a shrug.

            “Huh.”

            “So…Harry…”

            “Yes?” Harry asked, the corners of his mouth twitching up as Louis gazed at him, a small smile on his own face.

            “Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?”

            “I would love to,” Harry said, “but first, I’d like you to decide where you’re going after Arizona so I can be prepared for if this is going to be, like, a one date thing, long distance thing, or…what.”

            “I’ve already decided,” Louis replied.

            “Oh?” Harry asked, his heart increasing in speed a bit.

            “Yeah,” Louis said. “I’m coming home.”

            Niall landed safely in Ireland that night as Harry, Louis, Liam, and Zayn spent their last night in the cabin watching a movie, the group having decided they’d try to make it home (or, in Louis’s case, to his originally scheduled flight) the next day.

            Liam woke up early to unbury his car, though luckily, much of the snow had melted during the past couple of days, and was packed and ready to go when the others woke up. Still, he waited patiently as the others got ready, Harry moving a little slower than usual to delay saying goodbye to Louis.

            On the way to the airport, Zayn sat in the back with Louis and allowed Harry to sit up front next to Liam. Harry had almost protested, wanting to be as close as possible to Louis for the next couple of hours, but he also didn’t want to chance a repeat of their last road trip, so he didn’t.

            “So, Lou, when are you coming to visit again?” Zayn, feigning nonchalance, asked as they neared the airport.

            “Soon, but it won’t be to visit,” Louis replied. “I’m moving back. Just gotta let my apartment know, put in my two weeks at work, and figure out how to get what I can of my belongings overseas.”

            “Let us know if you need help with anything,” Liam said eagerly and, from the rearview mirror, Harry saw Louis smile.

            “I will.”

            Harry walked Louis into the airport, Liam and Zayn staying in the car but telling the two to take their time. Taking that to heart, Harry and Louis walked slowly towards the gate, though both were quiet.

            “Well,” Harry finally said when he could go no further. “I’ll see you soon?”

            “Of course,” Louis replied, a sad smile on his face. “Not soon enough, but soon.”

            Wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, he added, “At least I’ll have plenty of time to plan our date.”

            The two kissed before parting and Harry swallowed against a few tears as he walked back to Liam’s car alone, taking some comfort in the fact that this goodbye was much more pleasant than the last…and much more temporary.

            When Zayn saw Harry approaching, he jumped out of the front seat to get in the back again.

            “You can stay up there,” Harry offered.

            “That’s okay,” Zayn said, giving Harry a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before taking his place in the back again, though he spent much of the ride straining his seatbelt to touch Liam and smiling at his fiancé’s reflection in the mirror. In turn, Harry spent the ride grinning to himself, knowing every minute that passed was one closer to seeing Louis again.

-7 months later-

            “I didn’t expect your dad to cry so much,” Louis commented, taking his tie off and throwing it carelessly onto the nightstand by his side of the bed.

            “He’s a lot more sensitive than he lets on,” Harry said, working on unbuttoning his shirt. Louis stepped forward to help.

            “Your speech just about did him in,” Louis said, “though I don’t know that there were any dry eyes in the place during your speech. It was so sweet.”

            “Did I do okay?” Harry asked, forehead creasing. “I tripped over my words a couple times. Did I sound totally stupid?”

            “No, babe. That just made it sound more authentic. You did great.”

            “Thanks,” Harry said, smiling as Louis stood on his tiptoes to kiss him.

            “You’re welcome,” he said once he pulled away, noticeably checking Harry out as his shirt hung open. “Wanna shower with me?”

            “Do you even have to ask?”

            Afterward, the two lay in Harry’s bed in only their underwear, Louis pressed close to Harry’s side; warm, in love, happy, and only a little tipsy from the wedding champagne. Louis nuzzled Harry, which Harry had learned early on was his way of letting him know there was something on his mind.

            “What’s up?” Harry asked, lightly running his nails up and down Louis’s back.

            “Well, you know my lease is going to be up in a month-and-a-half…,” Louis began and suddenly, Harry’s mouth dried, and he felt a little sick.

            “Yeah,” he said, attempting to keep his voice casual.

            “Well…I was thinking I don’t really want to renew it. The place is kind of a dump.”

            Harry hummed noncommittally, not trusting himself to do much else.

            “Haz?”

            “Hm?”

            “Can you loosen your grip on my arm, please?”

            “Oh, god, sorry,” Harry said, dropping his arm onto the mattress beside Louis as he watched his handprint quickly fade from Louis’s skin.

            “Babe, you don’t have to try to hold me in place. I’m not running.”

            It was only then that Harry realized that holding Louis in place was exactly what he’d been trying to do. Louis continued,

            “I was just wanting to see…well…And it’s okay if you don’t want to; if it’s, like, too soon or whatever, but I was just going to see what you thought about me moving in here? About us living together?”

            “Oh,” Harry said, air suddenly rushing back into his lungs. “Oh, yeah. I mean, yes! I would love that, babe.”

            “Really?”

            Harry could hear the smile in Louis’s voice as he pulled Harry’s arm back over him.

            “Of course. You’re here almost all the time anyway. I feel like you’re kind of wasting your money on rent. But besides that, I miss you when you aren’t here.”

            “I’ll obviously pay half of all the bills,” Louis said. “Your mortgage is probably less than my rent split in half, but even if it’s not, I just got that promotion at work, so I’ll be making more money soon. But yeah, I miss you too when I’m not here. I sleep much better with you beside me.”

            “Well, good. That’s settled, then.”

            “Mhm.”

            After a brief pause, Louis added, “I’m sorry you thought I was going say that I was leaving. I’m not going to though, Hazza. I found what I was looking for.”

            Smiling, Harry held Louis tighter-but not too tight this time-and basked in the weightlessness, happiness, and love he felt.

            Over the past few months, Harry had realized why, before Louis, he’d been content never to get too close to someone else; why, on their very first date, he’d known he’d never want to go on another date again unless it was with Louis. And why kissing had never meant more to him than it did when he’d kissed anyone that wasn’t Louis.

            Harry wasn’t like Louis; he wasn’t one to run. Instead, Harry had been standing as still as possible so that Louis could find him when he finally made his way back home.