Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER 1: LIAM

_

Maybe I am more than a collection of bruises
Maybe I am more than an anthology of scars
Maybe I am more than a compilation of
bloody kneecaps and hangnails and black eyes

Maybe

But how can I ever be sure
if no one is willing to touch me without leaving a mark?

-“Discoloration” by SMN

_

Harry is standing on his bed, a piece of paper in his mouth and tape tangled in his hands when Liam walks in. He waves at Liam, looking only slightly ashamed, the tape roll still stuck and hanging from his hand.

“Need some help there?” Liam asks with a practiced sigh, closing the door to Harry’s room.

Harry tries to respond, causing the paper to fall from between his teeth. He then tries to catch it, obviously forgetting that his tape-tied hands aren’t functioning properly at that moment. Liam knows Harry hates the stuff. Stupid fucking tape, he always says. Liam keeps telling him to just glue things to the wall, but that’s against dorm rules which means Harry will not do it. This means he’s stuck with what he calls “the devil’s craft tool”.

“Yes,” Harry says, stepping down off of the bed and stretching his hands out towards Liam. “Please.”

Liam gets in more practice with another sigh before he tries to un-stick Harry’s fingers from one another. After a minute Harry is free, and he’s flexing his hands like he’d been handcuffed for hours or something.

“Cheers mate,” Harry says before crossing back to the bed and picking up the fallen piece of paper. He inspects it carefully, like he’s looking for bruises or cuts, which, of course, makes absolutely no sense. Making no sense is Harry’s specialty.

“So how’d you get in such a sticky situation?” Liam asks, smiling when Harry laughs boisterously at his pun.

But Harry doesn’t answer, giving Liam the “one second” sign instead. Next he motions for Liam to bring the tape back over so Liam complies, tearing off a few small pieces and handing them over carefully. Harry looks disgusted by the stuff, but he uses it quickly, smoothing out the piece of paper now stuck on the wall. The wall is a sea of pieces of paper, all perfectly cut out and placed neatly above Harry’s bed. Once Harry is satisfied with its position on the wall, he turns to Liam with a smile and explains.

“Just posting the poem of the week,” he says, hopping off of the bed and strolling over to his desk. He sits down in front of his laptop, opening a document and staring at it intently. “It’s a bit darker, but I still love it.”

“Of course you do,” Liam says, sitting down on Harry’s perfectly made bed. “You love every poem, every week.”

“It’s not my fault that he’s such an incredible writer,” Harry says, still fiddling with the document on his computer. Liam sees the words The Colton Herald on the screen and realizes it must be the layout for this week’s paper.

“Do you want to read it?” Harry asks, turning back to Liam.

“I’ll pass, seeing as it’s 6:50 and I know you have to get that layout sent to Professor Thornton by 7.”

“Shit,” Harry says as he looks at the clock on his desk. “Shit. Okay, hold on, I can do this.”

“Of course you can,” Liam says. He swings his feet onto the bed and reclines into the pillows. The bed is warm, and it feels good against Liam’s cold skin. He’s just come from rugby practice, and when he’d gone outside after showering in the locker rooms, it was not pleasant.

“No shoes on the bed, Liam,” Harry scolds, not even looking up from his frenzied editing.

“Sorry mum,” Liam says before toeing off his shoes. When he’s shoe-free, he pulls out his phone and goes back to lying down.

The sound of Harry’s typing fills the small dorm room, and Liam still doesn’t understand how Harry can live in a single room. They’re much smaller than the already tiny double rooms. Harry has to live by himself in a single room because he’s the Resident Assistant, or glorified hall monitor of their shared dorm. Liam doesn’t quite understand the logic of it. Harry has to do all the work on the hall and as payment, he gets stuck in a shoebox.

But no matter how small, Harry somehow seems to fill every inch of the shoebox with some sort of organized chaos. There are jumpers on the floor near the door, but they’re all meticulously folded. There are piles of papers on top of his dresser, but there isn’t a single sheet out of place. Same with his books, his shoes, everything really. As Liam said before, Harry really doesn’t make sense. He’s a contradiction in every sense of the word. Case and point, he is currently re-writing a piece with only minutes left until his deadline, but Liam knows that the layout Harry sends will be completely error-free. The boy is an oxymoron.

Liam glances up at all of the papers taped up above him, and it’s an ocean of black letters on white paper. The only thing they all have in common is the bolded name of the author at the end of every poem. SMN, otherwise known as mysterious poet Harry has been pining after for a year.

They all refer to him as “Someone” because that’s what Harry called him one day while intoxicated, saying that’s what his initials sound like. It’s beautiful teasing material.

Harry hits the enter button with quite a bit of force and a sigh.

“Sent,” he says, running his hands through his hair.

“Maybe if you hadn’t spent 20 minutes printing out that poem and trying to tape it to your wall, you wouldn’t have had to rush like that,” Liam says, turning on his side to look at Harry.

“It didn’t take me 20 minutes,” Harry replies, getting up to collect his sweaters from the floor, placing them carefully in a drawer. “It was more like 30 due to the tape incident.”

Liam thinks he hears Harry mutter “stupid fucking tape” under his breath, but he ignores Harry’s strange whispers because he’s got something more important to talk about.

“Niall texted me after he left for class, he swears he saw Zayn’s new roommate moving in.”

“What?” Harry asks, spinning around and almost dropping the stack of paper in his hands.

“Zayn’s new roommate,” Liam repeats, “Moving in. A few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Harry replies, a frustrated look in his eyes as he tries to find a place for the papers. “I just thought he wasn’t moving in until tomorrow.”

“I know, we all did. That’s why I wanted to tell you, so if you have to kick him out or greet him or something, you can. You can’t forget your very important RA duties just because Someone sends in a new poem,” Liam says.

“God, you’re right,” Harry says, pulling out a large binder from his desk labeled Room Contracts and a pen. He studies the binder for a minute, takes a deep breath, and seems to center himself before he speaks again.

“I think it’ll be fine if he moves in today, but he’s got to fill out this form for insurance purposes and all that.”

Harry puts down the binder and starts slipping on a pair of white converses, so Liam starts to put his own shoes back on. He needs to meet this new guy, and going with Harry will be an easy way to do it without seeming suspicious. Zayn had already ordered Liam to check the new guy out to make sure he wasn’t completely horrible before Zayn came back from class.

“Zayn’s not happy about having to live with someone he doesn’t know,” Liam says, tying the laces of his black trainers.

“I know,” Harry replies, standing and grabbing the binder again, “but he doesn’t really have a choice. They said they really needed a place for this guy and Zayn’s room has the only open bed in the building.”

Liam thinks about having to share a room with a complete stranger and shudders. He reminds himself to hug Niall when he sees him next.

“Also, Zayn wouldn’t be happy about living with anyone. You know he loves his alone time,” Harry says as he crosses to the door.

“Fair point,” Liam says, following Harry out into the hall.

The door to Zayn’s room is propped open, which means someone new is definitely in there because Zayn would never leave his door open like that in case people tried to talk to him. God forbid.

“Shall we?” Liam asks.

“We shall,” Harry says, walking towards the open door.

When they arrive at the door, Harry gives a quick knock before calling inside.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

Liam starts to roll his eyes at Harry, but he’s distracted when he hears a large crash followed by a string of profanities. They both instinctively enter the room to find the source of the crash, only to be greeted by a boy sitting on an unmade bed, clutching his foot and cursing to the high heavens.

“Are you okay?” Harry says, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you or something.”

The boy slips off his left shoe and inspects his toes, which fortunately, do not look damaged.

“You didn’t scare me, you just distracted me enough that an especially heavy box slipped from my hands,” the boy says quickly, still looking at his toes.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry repeats.

“It’s fine,” the boy says, slipping his shoe back on.

He stands up from the bed, finally looking at the intruders in his room. Liam smiles widely at him until his gaze moves to Harry. The boy looks at Harry and Liam thinks that maybe time stops for a second. Time starts moving again when Harry remembers his RA duties and introduces himself.

“I’m Harry,” he says, reaching out to shake Louis’ hand awkwardly around the large binder.

Liam watches a blush rise up Harry’s neck.

“I’m your new RA,” he says, his words fumbling in his mouth, staring only at the pages in front of him. “I live in room 221, if you ever need anything and uh, I need you to fill out this form.”

Harry thrusts the binder in the boy’s direction. He takes them, but Liam sees him studying Harry carefully before he even looks at the paper.

“I’m Louis.”

The boy who is apparently named Louis is a few inches shorter than Liam and Harry, with honey-brown hair and blue eyes that are still looking at Harry. He’s wearing a black Joy Division t-shirt and dark jeans cuffed around his ankles. His features are delicate, but somehow sharp at the same time. He looks like a human-sized pixie. His cheekbones almost rival Zayn’s, which is saying something.

Harry nods after Louis’ introduction, staring down at his feet. Liam knows this behavior, this is Harry’s there-is-an-new-and-attractive-person-looking-at-me behavior. He’s seen Harry suffer from this many times, and it usually does not end very well. He jumps in and tries to save the day.

“Very nice to meet you, Louis,” he says, “I’m Liam. I’m not really important like Harry but I live across the hall and your roommate is one of our close friends.”

“Oh, you know my roommate?” Louis asks, “Where is he?”

“He’s in class,” Harry blurts out before Liam can say anything.

He’s looking up now, and Louis turns his attention back to Harry. Liam is pleasantly surprised, Harry doesn’t usually speak to people as beautiful as Louis this early. They stress him out quite a bit. Meeting Zayn for the first time was a complete mess.

Harry scrambles for his words for a moment under Louis’ gaze, but he gets together in no time.

“He’ll be back soon,” he says. “His name is Zayn. He’s studying Art and English and he’s really wonderful. I’ve known him for years.”

“Wonderful,” Louis repeats. “I think I can deal with wonderful. Did you two go to college together or something?”

“Yeah, we all did,” Liam jumps in when Harry doesn’t answer immediately, “Me, Harry, Zayn, and my roommate, Niall.”

“Nice,” Louis says, offering Liam a small smile before handing the binder back to Harry. “I think that’s filled out correctly, sorry if you can’t read my handwriting.”

Harry barks out a maniacal laugh at Louis’ non-joke, immediately looking embarrassed and more frantic than Liam has seen him in a long time. He takes the binder from Louis and Liam thinks his hands are shaking.

“Well, as I said, I’m in 221 if you ever need me,” Harry says, turning and practically running out of the room.

Louis looks a little dumbstruck after Harry’s exit, so Liam tries his best to explain.

“Sorry about that, he gets a little frazzled sometimes. He does a lot, has a lot of responsibilities, you know?”

“Yeah? Like what?” Louis asks, looking at the empty doorway.

“Well, he’s the RA on this floor, editor of the school paper, President of the Journalism club, and he works as a tutor almost every day.”

“Editor of the school paper?” Louis says, “He looks a little young to be the editor of the school paper.”

“He is. He skipped a grade in primary school. He’s actually only 19, making him the youngest editor in the school’s history,” Liam says with a proud smile. Harry does so much, but he doesn’t like talking about it. He thinks it’s bragging, so Liam, Niall and sometimes Zayn do the talking for him.

“19 and in his third year of university, that’s impressive,” Louis says and Liam nods in agreement.

“Wait,” Louis says, looking a little panicked, “You’re not all 19, are you? Because I took a year off, so I’m 21 and I’ll feel like a senior citizen if my roommate and the only other people on the hall I know are all 19.”

“No,” Liam says with a laugh, “Zayn, Niall, and I are all 20. Zayn is almost 21. You’re definitely not a senior citizen.”

“Good,” Louis says, turning back to survey his still half-unpacked room. There are boxes everywhere and only some of them have been touched. Liam takes that as his cue to head out.

“It was really nice to meet you, Louis. Niall and I are in 225, feel free to stop by anytime,” Liam says, turning to leave.

Before he can get out of the room, Louis is calling after him.

“Oh, I actually have a question before you go- do you know where the dining hall is on this side of campus?”

Liam laughs and nods his head in confirmation.

“Of course, I can show you.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, sounding incredibly relieved.

Liam wonders if he really doesn’t have any friends on this side of campus and feels sorry for him. He would hate to eat alone in the dining hall when the food already sucks. That’s salt in a wound.

“Why don’t you come to dinner with us?” Liam asks. “We should actually be heading out now to meet Zayn and Niall at there, you should come along. That way you can meet Zayn and get to know us a little better. Also, you’ll need us to tell you what not to eat in this dining hall. There’s quite a bit of it.”

Louis laughs, looking down at his shoes and then back up at Liam. He looks a little shy for some reason, but eventually he agrees to Liam’s proposition.

He grabs a jacket off of the bed and slips it on, feeling for something in his pocket.

“Can I meet you guys outside?” he asks, “I need a cigarette. Badly.”

“Sounds good,” Liam answers, backing out of the room.

“Thank god you smoke,” he adds as an afterthought, pausing in the doorway. “Zayn does too and he was worried his new roommate would hate the smell.”

“Oh fuck, thank god,” Louis says with a smile. “I was worried about that too.”

“Well, no worries,” Liam says, actually leaving now, “We’ll see you downstairs in a few!”

The last thing he hears before he enters Harry’s room is Louis shouting a “see you” after him. He smiles, excited to tell Harry that it looks like they’re going to make a new friend.

_ _

CHAPTER 2: HARRY

“You did what?”

“I invited Louis to dinner with us?” Liam says again, sounding much more uncertain this time.

Harry’s hands are in his hair before he can even think about it. He’s going to go bald if he keeps tugging at his hair like this. Liam is going to make him go bald.

“You’re going to make me go bald,” Harry says to Liam, collapsing on the bed.

“No, I’m not. You have too much hair for that,” Liam says, leaning against Harry’s dresser.

Harry tries to look scathing as possible when he meets Liam’s eyes, but Liam just looks calm, like he always does. Liam has this uncanny ability to always look calm. Harry thinks maybe it’s the color of his eyes.

“Now, please explain to me why you’re so upset that I invited Louis to dinner with us,” Liam says, crossing closer to Harry. “You’re always the first one to try and make people feel welcome.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry says, trying to remove his hands from his hair, “But there’s something about him. He scares me more than usual.”

Liam is right, Harry is always trying to make people feel welcome. That’s why he makes such a good RA. But Harry also suffers from crippling anxiety when interacting with people he doesn’t already know. There’s just something terrifying about first impressions that he can’t seem to shake. Especially when he wants the first impression to be good. He hasn’t dated anyone in about a year because getting to know someone that he likes is just too big of a task to undertake. Liam likes to call him “the walking, talking oxymoron”. He agrees wholeheartedly.

“It’s because he’s so pretty,” Liam says, grabbing Harry’s coat off of the back of his desk chair and throwing it at him. “Come on, he’s waiting for us outside.”

Harry lets the coat hit him in the face. He feels like he can’t move, and his heart is beating so fast that he can’t keep up with it. Liam doesn’t let him stay like that for long, swiftly grabbing his arm and dragging him off the bed.

“Jesus, this is worse than Zayn,” Liam says, “And you almost had a bloody aneurism with Zayn.”

Harry tries his best not to think as they make their way down the stairs and into the cold November air. Liam opens the door and Louis turns to face them at the sound. He’s got a cigarette between his lips, and he takes a large drag from it before stubbing it out on the ground. He straightens back up and lets the smoke unfurl from his lips, tilting his head slightly to smile at them when he’s done.

Harry feels like he’s been hit by a bus.

Louis is even more beautiful under the streetlamp, all winter and cheekbones. He thinks his mouth might be open slightly, and when Louis’ gaze travels down to his lips, he shuts it as quickly as he can. He hears his teeth snap together.

“You ready? Niall’s probably on his second plate already,” Liam says, motioning towards the sidewalk that will take them to the dining hall.

“Course,” Louis says as he walks towards Liam.

Liam walks between Harry and Louis as a buffer and they all take off, easily falling into step with each other. Thank god for Liam. He chitchats with Louis in his normal, pleasant manner and Harry envies him so much. He wants to be the one talking to Louis, asking him important questions like where’s he from (Doncaster), does he have any siblings (4 younger sisters), or what he’s studying (Drama). He gets to learn all of these things, but only because he overhears them. He wants to be the one showing interest and being pleasant, make a good impression. But alas, it seems he’s got to keep his mouth shut or he’ll just stare open-mouthed at Louis. Not a good first impression.

They get to the dining hall quickly, all of them walking faster to avoid the cold Manchester wind. After swiping their student cards, Liam scans the tables for Zayn and Niall. Harry finds them first, so he elbows Liam and points in their direction.

When they arrive at the table, Niall has a fork in his mouth, his plate is almost clean, and he’s half out of his seat to go get more food.

“The mashed potatoes are fucking great tonight,” he says. “Make sure you get some before they’re all gone.”

“Sick,” Louis says, “I love mashed potatoes.”

Niall stops shoveling food in his mouth and looks up at Louis, a smile breaking out on his face a moment later.

“I saw you moving in earlier! You must be Zayn’s new roommate,” he says, reaching out to shake Louis’ hand. Louis smiles warmly and shakes back.

“That I am,” he says before turning to the other person sitting at the table, “Which means you must be Zayn.”

Zayn looks at Louis curiously for a moment as if he’s trying to size him up. He turns to Liam with a raised eyebrow, asking him a question in their weird telepathic language. Harry can read his three best friends pretty well, but Liam and Zayn have always been on a different level. They can blink and know what the other one is thinking. It’s spooky.

“This is Louis, Zayn,” Liam says, putting a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “I’ve decided we’re going to adopt him.”

As soon as the words are out of Liam’s mouth, Zayn’s demeanor changes entirely. His shoulders drop, his forehead un-furrows, and he’s smiling sweetly at Louis. Louis obviously notices the change because he laughs before sitting down across from Zayn.

“You had me checked out then, did you?” Louis asks with an amused smirk on his face. It’s mischievous and beautiful and Harry can’t deal with it.

“I did,” Zayn replies. “Can you blame me?”

“Not at all. I tried to do the same, but all I could find out is that quite a few birds on campus think you’re some sort of god sent to grace them with your beauty.”

Harry laughs along with Liam and Niall at that, remembering the flocks of girls that would follow Zayn around during college. Zayn is looking at his plate now, obviously a little embarrassed by how worshiped he is pretty much wherever he goes. People bow down for Zayn Malik. Harry doesn’t blame them.

“We should all get some food before all the good shit is taken,” Niall says to Louis, obviously finding a friend in the other mashed potato lover.

“Sounds good to me,” Louis says, standing up and following Niall.

Harry doesn’t race after them because Niall is definitely the authority on food around here. They won’t need Harry’s help. Instead he flops down into the seat next to Zayn, laying his head on Zayn’s shoulder with an exasperated sigh.

“What’s up with this one then?” Zayn asks Liam, which he could have done with his eyes, but he probably said it out loud for Harry’s sake.

“He’s been traumatized by Louis’ face,” Liam says.

“Ah,” Zayn says. “Having problems meeting the pretty new boy?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, he just nods and tries not to sigh again. If he keeps sighing, they’re going to tell him he’s acting like he’s in a rom com. They tell him that a lot, but usually it’s over Someone and not an actual person who’s in the actual room.

“It’ll be fine, lover boy,” Liam says. “You’ll be talking up a storm in no time.”

Harry just nods his head again. His stomach growls then, so he reluctantly gets up with Liam and Zayn to get some food, hoping Liam is right.

An hour later, Harry’s stomach is no longer growling but he still hasn’t said a word. Lucky for all him, his silence pretty much goes unnoticed because Niall and Liam easily fill the space with conversation. Even Zayn talks a bit, obviously trying to make an effort to get to know his new roommate. They all seem to like him and he really seems to like all of them, except for Harry, who he has barely even looked at. Harry can’t really be angry about that because he’s been avoiding looking at anything but the food in front of him. Liam, Niall, and Zayn know to just leave him alone when he’s like this, so they don’t even try to bring them into the conversation until they decide it’s time to head back to the dorm.

They leave the dining hall together, Zayn and Louis immediately lighting up when they’re outside. Louis is very pleased when he finds out they smoke the same brand.

“That’ll make it so much easier to steal them!” he says, and Zayn looks genuinely concerned.

Louis follows that with a laugh and a “just kidding”, but Zayn sends him a territorial look as he tucks his pack into his front pocket. Now Louis looks genuinely concerned, but before he can worry too much about upsetting his new roommate, Zayn breaks into a smile. Harry is surprised at how quickly Zayn has warmed up to Louis. He’s usually the last person to joke around with new people, behind Harry of course.

When they’re almost back to the dorm, Zayn looks at Liam and nods, sending him a message in their secret language. Liam nods back and then turns to address the rest of the group.

“Zayn and I are going to stop here and smoke real quick if you guys want to join,” he says.

“We’re already smoking?” Louis says, holding up his cigarette.

Zayn laughs and stubs out his cigarette on the pavement.

“We’re going to smoke something a bit stronger,” he says, shouldering off his backpack.

He looks around quickly and then pulls out his deep purple bowl, raising his eyebrows at Louis. No one in the group knows how Louis will react; he could be some sort of goody-two-shoes about this stuff. He doesn’t seem like the type, but you never know with weed. Louis looks at the bowl, then at each of the other four boys.

“I’m so fucking glad I moved,” he says, slinging his arms over Niall and Liam’s shoulders.

Zayn laughs again and Harry thinks that Louis might be setting some sort of record of times a person can make Zayn laugh when they’ve just met him.

“I’m always in,” Niall says.

Harry is thinking about Louis’ lips around the bowl when Louis turns and speaks to him directly for the first time since they met.

“That leaves you, Curly,” Louis says, causing Liam and Niall to snicker.

“His mum used to call him that,” Niall says, looking at Harry and obviously trying not to laugh too hard.

Ignoring the backflip his stomach does when Louis speaks to him, Harry weighs his options. He doesn’t smoke that much because sometimes it makes him really paranoid. However, when the high is good, it’s really good. He’s a lightweight when it comes to everything, so he can get really stoned pretty easily. The times that it’s been really good, it’s relaxed him to a point where he can talk about almost anything to almost anyone. One time, he and Zayn got high and then befriended a random hot guy at McDonald’s when they got hungry. He understands why Zayn loves it so much.

Everyone is still looking at him, waiting for an answer, so he just shrugs his shoulders and walks towards the patch of trees next to their building. He can hear them following behind him, and he prays that this does not end with him huddled in his bed, wondering when the cops are coming to get him. It’s happened before, and it is not pleasant. Also, Liam teased him about it for a good two weeks.

Liam gets out his phone, shining his flashlight so Zayn can see what he’s doing while he packs the bowl. Harry can already smell it from where he is, so it must be good. Zayn always gets the good shit. About a minute later, Zayn is pulling out his lighter and taking the first hit. Niall takes the next one, and he holds the smoke in until Liam takes his first hit. Niall is almost as good at smoking weed as Zayn. Liam coughs a bit and passes the bowl to Louis, who takes a huge hit and smiles at Zayn’s surprised expression.

“I have three bowls in the room upstairs,” he says with a wicked smile. “And maybe two grams? I’ll make sure I smoke you up for this.”

Zayn’s smile is so wide that Harry thinks his face might split in half.

“I’m so fucking glad you moved,” Zayn says to Louis, who just laughs as he passes the bowl to Harry.

Harry takes a hit, passes to his right, and waits for the buzz to set in.

After a few more rounds, Harry can feel the effects in the tips of his fingers and all over his face. He knows he’s smiling but he can’t remember why. That makes him laugh. Niall gives him a weird look when he does, but then he’s laughing along with him. Niall keeps laughing as Liam tucks the bowl back into Zayn’s backpack and they all head back for the building.

The heat inside the dorm feels incredible on Harry’s skin, which is almost numb from the cold. They all pile into the elevator together, and Niall presses the button for their floor.

On the way up, Zayn shivers, so Liam takes a step closer and puts his arm around Zayn’s shoulders. Harry sees Louis smile at the exchange from the corner of his eye and that’s when he knows Louis is a keeper.

Not many people understand how Zayn and Liam work, but it seems like Louis is fine with whatever it is that they are. Even Harry doesn’t get it at times, but he does wonder how it would be to have someone who could understand him the way they understand each other. It sounds lovely.

That’s the only word floating around in Harry’s head when he collapses onto the beanbag in the corner of Zayn and Louis’ room, lovely.

Zayn and Liam take Zayn’s bed, Niall takes Zayn’s desk chair, and Louis stretches out onto his own bed.

Lovely, Harry thinks when he looks at Louis.

Zayn plugs his phone into a speaker and soon there’s soft, atmospheric music filling the room. Harry hears Zayn sigh and watches as he lays his head in Liam’s lap. Liam’s eyes are closed and his head is resting on the wall, but he smiles when he feels Zayn settle down onto him.

The whole room is quiet for a few minutes. Zayn starts humming quietly along to the music, and Liam is tapping his fingers to the beat. This is one of Harry’s favorite parts of being high, listening to music. It sounds so much better, so much fuller and alive like this. He doesn’t know the music pouring from the speakers, but it’s perfect for the moment.

Louis apparently does know the music that’s playing because suddenly he’s singing along, and it’s a delicate, fragile sound.

I can’t exist within my own head
So I insist on haunting your bed

Harry is scared to breathe. He doesn’t want Louis to stop singing. Apparently, neither do Liam, Zayn, and Niall because they’re all watching Louis intently now, who still has his eyes closed. Zayn is smiling to himself, shaking his head, probably in amazement at his luck in a random roommate. That’s what Harry would be doing right now. That or trying to kiss him. One of the two. Maybe both.

Louis and the lead singer are singing about not being scared and it’s like Harry can hear it in his head, like Louis is standing on a stage in his mind and singing right to him. He remembers why he likes weed.

The song finishes and Louis opens his eyes slowly, which happen to be looking right at Harry. His eyelids are heavy and Harry can see red in his eyes, but it just makes the blue of his irises more prominent.

Louis has eyes that could burn down cities. Harry wants to be made of skyscrapers and bridges and concrete.

Louis is still looking at him, and Harry can’t look away. He has no idea if Louis knows what he’s doing, but Harry feels like his organs are on fire. He can actually feel his pulse pumping in the veins in his wrists. He needs Louis to stop looking at him like that before he does something stupid. He needs Louis to stop looking at him like that before he loses his mind.

His breathing is getting heavier, his mouth is dropping open and he’s licking his lips without thinking. He needs to do something, talk about something, anything, or things are going to get messy.

He says the first thing that comes into his brain.

“That song reminds me of a poem from a few weeks ago,” he says, finally breaking the eye contact with Louis to look at Liam. “I think I read it to you.”

“Of course you did,” Liam says, rolling his eyes, “You read me Someone’s poems whenever I’ll let you.”

“Oh god, are we talking about Someone again?” Niall groans.

“Don’t we always with Harry?” Zayn sighs, his eyes closed again and his head still resting on Liam’s lap with Liam’s fingers in his hair.

“Okay wait,” Louis says, “Either I’m really high or I’m have no idea what’s going on. Explain what’s going on, please.”

Harry did not think about this, he didn’t consider the consequences of what bringing up Someone would be. Before he can backtrack or send death threats to his friends via telepathy, they’re all looking at each other with smiles on their faces, deciding who gets to tell Louis about Harry’s most embarrassing obsession. They decide on Liam.

“Do you read the school paper?” Liam asks Louis.

“Wait,” Harry says, the realization of what this means washing over him, “Guys, wait. Please don’t.”

“Yeah, every once in a while,” Louis answers Liam.

“Guys,” Harry tries again, but to no avail. Liam keeps talking.

“You know how they have that poetry column every week?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, looking much more suspicious.

Harry literally can’t believe that he brought up Someone. He’s never smoking weed again. Ever. This is probably the worst thing he could have talked about. He could have said he loved My Little Pony and it would have been less destructive than this.

“You know how it’s by the same anonymous person every week?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, sitting up.

“Harry’s in love with that anonymous person,” Liam says, dropping the bomb.

Liam is going to make Harry go bald because Harry is going to rip out all of his hair and choke Liam with it.

Louis looks seriously confused; he’s just staring at Liam with his head cocked to the side. Apparently Niall thinks Harry hasn’t been humiliated enough because he starts talking next.

“Harry calls him ‘Someone’ because apparently, that’s ‘what his initials sound like’,” he says. “We’ve adopted the nickname as well.”

“How do you know it’s a guy?” Louis asks, sounding calm and not freaked out at all.

“Harry begged Professor Thornton to tell him something about the poet for about a week and she finally gave in and told him that the poet was a guy,” Niall says, laughing as Harry groans.

He drops his head into his hands and wishes the beanbag chair would swallow him whole. He’s never going to be able to look at Louis again after this. Louis might not let Harry look at him again after this.

“That’s sweet,” someone says, and it Harry swears it sounds like Louis.

His head snaps up from where it was buried in his hands to find Louis looking at him with a goofy smile on his face.

“What?” Harry asks, the word coming out slow.

“I think that’s sweet,” Louis repeats.

Harry can feel the whole room looking at him now. He can hear Niall snickering under his breath. Again.

“Why?” Harry asks.

Apparently he can only speak in one word sentences when Louis is involved. At least it’s progress.

“There aren’t a lot of true romantics left in the world,” Louis says, leaning back so he’s stretched out on the bed. Harry can see a strip of skin between where his shirt ends and his pants begin. It’s beautiful.

“I think I just met one of the remaining few.”

“Thank you,” Harry says after a pause.

No one has ever looked at it that way before. He feels validated and a little bit less estranged, and it’s wonderful. He takes a moment to look at his remaining three friends with a confident smile on his face.

“Louis thinks it’s sweet, did you hear?” he asks the room.

“Yes, Harry. We did,” Zayn says, somehow still patronizing with his eyes still closed.

“I agree with Liam,” Harry says, feeling more empowered than he has in a long time. Louis is still scary beautiful and still in the room, but for a moment, Harry doesn’t even care.

“We’re adopting him.”

It’s the fastest Harry has ever broken his anxious trance, but after that, Harry can look at Louis, can speak to him without feeling like a bomb about to go off.

They all spend the night listening to music, singing random songs, and talking for hours. Harry participates in all of these events without an ounce of fear. He feels at home, all of them warm and buzzed and together. Louis hasn’t even known them for more than 4 hours, but he’s right there with them at every step, and if he isn’t, they all catch him up. It’s like they can all feel that Louis isn’t just some random they should write off. It’s like they all know Louis is important. They don’t know how, but they know. Harry knows.

It’s 3 AM when Liam, Niall and Harry head back to their rooms for the night. Liam kisses Zayn on the forehead before pulling the blanket further up Zayn’s body and leaving him to sleep. Niall hauls Louis upright and gives him a hug, which Louis looks delighted to receive. Harry almost melts with fondness for his best friends.

He struggles to get out of the beanbag for a minute before he finally manages it, his body calling for his bed. When he looks up, Louis is taking off his jeans.

Louis is taking off his jeans.

There’s an alarm going off in his head and Louis is taking off his jeans. His ass looks like it was carved by a sculptor.

Niall wolf whistles around his fingers, and Harry thinks all the blood in his body is in his cheeks. Louis turns and throws his jeans at Niall, which Niall avoids by ducking, leaving them to hit Harry in the face. Harry is obviously a magnet for flying clothing this evening.

Harry looks down at them lying on the floor and back up at Louis, who now has a grey track pants halfway on. He’s watching Harry with raised eyebrows, so Harry picks them up as Niall leaves the room and Liam follows behind, leaving the door open.

“Sorry about that, slipped out of my hands,” Louis says, grinning widely.

Harry is back to silence as he crosses the room and hands the jeans back to Louis. Louis pulls the grey sweats all the way on, still looking curiously at Harry. He can feel Louis’ gaze and knows his mouth is open again, but he can’t seem to shut it this time.

“Goodnight,” he croaks out with a nod, trying not to keel over right then and there.

“Goodnight,” Louis replies as Harry finally gets out of the room. The door closes behind him, but he doesn’t look back.

Liam is leaning against his doorway in the hallway, watching Harry.

“Don’t say a fucking word, Liam.”

Liam doesn’t. He just backs into his room with his hands up, shuts the door and says nothing. But Harry can see the look in his eyes as he makes his way back to his room. Liam already knows. Liam always knows.

Harry falls into his bed and falls asleep almost immediately.

When he wakes up the next morning, Someone’s poems are staring him in the face. He feels weirdly guilty. He gets up, gets dressed, and goes to breakfast anyways.

Louis is at breakfast and at dinner later on. The next day it’s lunch and dinner. Then he’s just there, almost all the time.

It should feel weird to have someone new in their lives so suddenly, but Harry and the other boys take to Louis so quickly that it feels more natural than anything. They all seem to be drawn to Louis in a way; they all seem to gravitate towards him, Harry more than anyone. Harry runs into him on campus all the time, not realizing he’s taking a different route until he sees Louis and knows this isn’t how he usually walks to Herald meetings.

A week later, Louis is a regular part of their routines and Harry is reading through the layout again. The first thing he does every week is read the poetry column, and this week is no different. The poem doesn’t disappoint, but it’s obvious that Someone has started moving in a new direction.

Harry feels like everything is moving in a new direction, and he doesn’t mind the change for once.

_

I’ve wanted to kiss you
since the first moment
you opened your mouth
and I saw
straight into the back of your throat
-warm,
pulsing,
dripping with you-
and I saw
where I wanted to spend
the rest of eternity
trying to claw my way out of

-“Swallow Me Whole” by SMN

_ _

CHAPTER 3: LOUIS

The words are gone.

Louis has been trying to write for 3 hours, but the words are gone, which is fucking unacceptable. He’s written two shitty poems about drowning in the ocean and one about being buried alive. Even his shitty poems are reflecting the same theme- he’s suffocating.

Finals start on Monday, he’s almost out of money, he needs to do 3 loads of laundry at least, and he can’t write a fucking poem to save his life. He’s got a poem due in two hours and he hasn’t written anything good since the one he submitted last week. This isn’t like him at all. Poetry is the one thing that comes to him like nothing else. He doesn’t have to toil and slave over it like he does with coursework or making himself studying, but here he is, struggling to even get a half way decent poem on paper. Professor Thornton might actually throttle him, and even the threat of a throttling can’t make the words come out right.

The only good thing he has is a single line about green eyes that he’d written the last time he’d seen Harry. He’d been panicked, flushed, and barely standing still two days ago in the dining hall when he grabbed an apple, said hello, threatened to kill Niall for teasing him about the bags under his eyes, and ran back to the library to finish studying. Liam said he always gets like this during finals, but now Louis hasn’t seen him in two days. Not at meals, and not on the hall because he hasn’t been on duty. He’d almost knocked on Harry’s door yesterday, but he’d chickened out at the last second, worried he might get a death threat for interrupting precious studying time.

The only good things Louis has written in the past week have been about Harry, and he usually wouldn’t mind, but it seems his muse has disappeared.

Okay, Harry isn’t actually his muse because that would be creepy. But he does have some really inspirational qualities to Louis’ defense. Like the fact that he looks like he was painted during the renaissance and somehow ended up in 21st Century Manchester. Or the way he twirls the ring on his finger whenever he’s nervous. Or that he’s secretly in love with Louis.

He doesn’t know he’s secretly in love with Louis, but Louis knows. It makes him quite inspirational.

Louis is still surprised that he hadn’t jumped off of his bed and screamed, “Those are my poems! You love me! You’re beautiful! Let’s adopt children together!” when he found out about it last week. It had been a big moment for a few reasons because he now knew Harry was into guys, specifically a guy that was in the room, specifically Louis. He should have said something there and then but he’d kept his cool and now he has to keep it forever. He’s not going to come back from, “I’m your mysterious poet, and I wrote about you last week but I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be disappointed in who your mysterious poet really is.”

He’s barely known Harry for a two weeks but Louis is already concerned with disappointing him. Go figure. He latches on quickly.

In those two weeks, his life has gotten better and somehow worse since he’s moved in and met his new friends. On the one hand, he’s left a bad situation far behind. On the other, he’s walked into a much more complicated one. One where he has a crush on his RA, who has a crush on not exactly him, but the alternate persona that he doesn’t know belongs to Louis. Fucking fantastic. Exactly the kind of thing that would happen to Louis.

He’s banging his head on his desk when the door opens, letting Zayn in, followed by a certain curly-haired RA.

Louis sits up quickly, hoping there’s not a mark on his forehead.

“Morning,” Zayn says, which Louis returns.

Zayn tosses him an orange and then sits on his bed. Harry is checking his phone with his lip caught between his teeth, but he isn’t threatening to kill people anymore, so that’s good.

“You weren’t at breakfast this morning,” Zayn explains, motioning at the orange.

“Thanks,” Louis says, closing his notebook. “I needed to work on some stuff.”

“I figured,” Zayn says with a smile.

Harry is still staring at his phone. Louis hasn’t seen him in two days and he hasn’t even said hello yet. Louis is praying they haven’t regressed back to Harry being unable to speak to him. The night after they’d met, Zayn had explained Harry’s strange inability to converse with strangers, and how happy he was that it hadn’t stopped him from talking to Louis. To confirm they haven’t regressed back, he looks at Zayn and then nods his head at Harry, asking as inconspicuously as possible. Zayn gets the message loud and clear.

“Harry, you haven’t said hello,” he says. “Bit rude, love.”

It’s like Zayn speaking to him directly snaps Harry out of some alternate universe he’d been stuck in because he looks absolutely baffled by his surroundings. The bafflement increases when he looks at Louis, but he recovers a second later.

“Sorry, of course. Hi Louis, it’s nice to see you,” he says, a smile melting onto his face and his words coming out slower than usual.

“What’s happened to him?” Louis faux-whispers to Zayn, “Why isn’t he threatening to strangle someone with his bare hands?”

Harry laughs serenely, sits on Louis’ bed, and looks back at his phone. He still hasn’t answered Louis’ questions, so Louis turns back to Zayn for an answer.

“He’s always like this on Fridays,” he says. “The layout of the paper comes to him anywhere from now to 3. He’s waiting for the new poem.”

“Oh,” Louis says.

“For some reason, it really mellows him out. It’s like the highlight of his week,” Zayn continues.

“Oh,” Louis repeats, his stomach falling down a flight of stairs.

He’s incredibly bewildered and flattered by how much Harry loves his work. He knows he’s pretty good, but Harry gets a starry look in his eyes whenever he talks about Someone and his poetry. He never thought he’d make someone starry-eyed with just his words.

Apparently it’s not going to be a long visit from his roommate and Harry because Zayn glances at his rose gold watch and then gets up to collect a textbook from his desk.

“Harry,” he says, “We need to study for Professional Writing, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Harry replies, getting up from Louis’ bed and putting his phone back in his pocket after turning the volume all the way up.

“Just in case I get an email,” he explains with another smile.

“Of course,” Louis says, rolling his eyes and smiling back at him.

Zayn is already halfway out the door when he says bye, but Harry stops before he leaves entirely and turns to look at Louis.

“I’ll see you at dinner, right?” he asks.

“I think I should be the one asking that question, Harold.”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Harry says, something shining in his eyes as he closes the door behind him.

Louis holds his breath until he’s not smiling anymore.

The words come back.

He sends the poem to Professor Thornton 5 minutes later.

_

You left my room
a silent secret caught in your smile
I collapsed onto my bed
thinking of all the ways to suck that secret out with my tongue
so that there would be an empty space
between your lips
begging to be filled
because then
I would simply be doing what any good friend would do
I would be patching up a hole
I would be doing you a kindness
if your teeth
just happened
to catch on my bottom lip
and stay there forever

-“That’s What Friends Are For” by SMN

_

Louis needs coffee if he’s going to get everything done that needs to be done after his only class of the day, so he abandons his laundry and studying for sweet, sweet caffeine.

He puts in his headphones, cranks up Twin Atlantic, and lights a cigarette. Walking across campus, Louis feels like he’s in his element. Yeah, he has a lot left to do before he gets through finals week but he can tell that things are just coming together. He knows that as long as he gets some caffeine in his system, he’s going to be unstoppable. Maybe it’s the new friends, maybe it’s the new confidence in his writing, maybe it’s a lot of things, but whatever it is, he’s thankful for it.

Campus is gorgeous this time of year. He loves December already because that means his birthday is soon, but he also loves the weather. The sidewalks are sprinkled with brown and orange leaves, and it’s just cold enough that Louis’ breath fogs a bit as he breathes out. He knows that as soon as the sun goes down, it will be cold enough to freeze his balls off, but for now, it’s gorgeous.

He crosses the street to the small café near campus called The Royal Bean. There are plenty of places closer to his dorm, but they make this special drink called the Voltaire, and it’s to die for. Hot chocolate poured over a double espresso. All the caffeine and sugar he needs in one go.

He gets in line and waits for his turn, checking his email. Professor Thornton has sent him a confirmation saying that she got his poem, and that she loved it. Louis sighs with relief and feels a weight lift off of his shoulders.

He orders his coffee with a smile and waits patiently for it to come, thinking about if he can write something that captures how he feels right now. His coffee is being handed to him by a sweet looking brunette when the little doorbell chimes in the coffee shop. Louis turns and glances at the group of guys who have just entered when he hears a voice that makes him grip his cup so tightly that the lid almost pops off.

Louis spins around to try to hide his face from the group of guys. One guy in particular. He tries to find an escape route, moving to the other side of the small building and keeping his head down.

The voice gets louder, and Louis doesn’t know if it’s in his head or not.

He’s got a hand on the door when someone calls his name.

“Louis! Is that you?”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek so hard that he draws a few drops of blood. He’s not going to cry, he’s not going to bolt, he is not going to be afraid. That’s what his ex-roommate, Caleb, wants.

“Louis!” Caleb calls again.

Louis bites down on the same spot. He can’t believe he forgot that Caleb was the one who showed him this place. He should have known that he would run into him here. It should have been on Louis’ “do not go there” list like the dining hall on the east side of campus, the main gym, his old dorm and the bookstore on 9th St. But Louis had been in such a good mood that he hadn’t even considered the possibility, and now he’s stuck. He turns to Caleb, putting on a brave face.

“Caleb,” he says, congratulating himself when his voice doesn’t break. He sounds normal and stable. He can do this. Then he actually looks at Caleb.

He looks exactly the same. Blonde hair that looks perfectly windswept, but Louis knows it takes him 20 minutes to do every morning. Eyes like chocolate that melts in your mouth. A stupid, vintage-y jumper that he probably paid too much money for. His beat up black converses. A wicked, perfect smile that he’s currently smiling right at Louis.

“How are you?” Caleb asks, sauntering over and leaning up against a big armchair near the door. He’s not close enough to be threatening yet, but with Caleb, it could come at any second.

“Fine,” Louis answers, trying not to shrink into himself like his body is screaming for him to do. His body wants him to protect himself, but any sort of behavior like that would just make Caleb’s day. Louis wants to ruin his day.

Caleb is still smiling that smile at him. Louis remembers how that smile tastes. Then he swipes his tongue around in his mouth and remembers how blood tastes. The two pretty much go hand in hand.

Louis sends his gaze to the ground when Caleb comes a few steps closer to him. As he predicted, any second.

“That’s it? That’s all I get? Just ‘fine’? Only giving me one word today, darling?” he says, crossing his arms and tilting his head back, causing him to look down at Louis. He’s always looking down at Louis.

“Yes,” Louis says through clenched teeth.

He can hear the joy in Caleb’s voice; he can feel how much fun Caleb is having. It makes him want to scream. He doesn’t understand what he did in his life to deserve Caleb. He seemed like a blessing at first, like a perfect, fun-loving guy sent to make Louis’ university experience amazing. But then Louis learned that Caleb is always having fun, especially when it involves causing Louis any sort of discomfort or harm. Louis is not going to give him a moment more.

He pushes hard on the door and tries to walk away when Caleb’s hand wraps around his forearm.

His head whips around to look at Caleb in shock and utter disbelief. He knows he looks terrified, but he can’t help it now. He is.

This can’t be happening here, now. Not in front of all of these people. He would never in front of all of these people, Louis thinks.

Caleb pulls him closer, barely straining as Louis’ body drags toward him slowly. His smile is dripping with poison and Louis does not have the antidote. All he can do is let himself be yanked around. He knows what happens when he fights back, and it did not turn out the way he thought it would.

“See you soon, darling,” Caleb whispers, not breaking eye contact with Louis as he purses his lips into a kiss, blowing it into the air in front of Louis’ face.

His fingers leave Louis’ arm one by one and Louis knows he’ll have bruises there in the morning. When Caleb turns and re-joins his group, officially letting Louis go, it takes everything he has not to break into a sprint right then and there. Somehow he holds it together until he’s out of sight, but as soon as he is, the tears come instantly. When he gets out his pack and tries to light a cigarette, he realizes how badly his hands are shaking. He needs to get back to his dorm, back to someone who can help him before he passes out from simple fear.

He’s sucking on his cigarette like it’s the only thing keeping him upright and by the time he gets back to the dorm, he’s smoked two more.

He collapses on the bench outside the door and lights a fourth.

Louis knew he was going to run into Caleb at some point, he knew it would happen. He had made that list, hoping it would maybe be a few months until he saw him again because the campus is big, but apparently it’s not big enough. He knew this would happen, but what he didn’t know is how sick it would make him feel, how nauseous he would be. He can hear Caleb’s voice saying “darling” over and over again in his head, he can feel the imprints of where Caleb’s fingers were on his arm. He leans over the bench and vomits into the grass.

When he’s finished, the shaking has redoubled and his eyes are filling with even more tears as he gasps for breath.

He lights a fifth, then a sixth and a seventh. He sits on the bench in silence for a good hour, unable to get his breathing or his tears or his body in control.

On number eight, he hears someone whistling in the distance. When Harry turns the corner and Louis sees his lazy, crooked smile, he almost starts full out sobbing. The last thing he needs right now is for Harry to see him like this. He tries to wipe his eyes on his sleeves without looking too suspicious, but apparently Harry sees right through that. His face falls and he stops whistling when he gets a good look at Louis’ state.

“Are you alright?” he asks, rushing over to the bench and sitting down next to Louis.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Louis says, trying for calm and missing, his words not matching the way his voice breaks.

“No, you’re not,” Harry says, “What’s going on?”

Louis looks at Harry, and it’s the wrong decision. The tears are back in full force, and as soon as they are, Harry is scooting closer and pulling Louis close with an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he says into Louis’ hair. It makes him cry harder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his thumb rubbing up and down Louis’ bicep.

Louis shakes his head no.

He can’t tell Harry about this, not here, not now. He’s not sure if he can tell Harry anywhere, any time. The memories are too painful and he’s worried how Harry will react when he hears.

“Do you want me to distract you?” he asks, sounding more hopeful this time.

Louis shakes his head yes.

He looks at Harry when he does, seeing the pure concern in Harry’s eyes and it’s the last piece of the puzzle. This friendly, beautiful, anxiety-ridden, perfect boy is what he’s been missing.

Within seconds Harry is on his feet, motioning for Louis to do the same. Louis stubs out the cigarette that had fallen from his trembling fingers moments before and stands, hoping he doesn’t show how weak he feels.

Harry keeps a close eye on him as they make their way to the elevator and up to their floor. He takes Louis’ keys from his hands when they reach his door, and unlocks it for Louis. Once they’re inside, Louis takes off his backpack and sits on his bed. Harry goes to his dresser and asks Louis where he keeps his track pants and t-shirts. Louis tells him and then Harry is crossing to him with his favorite grey track pants, a soft navy blue t-shirt, a pair of socks, and his water bottle in his hands.

“Go to the bathroom, wash your face, fill up your water bottle, and change into these,” he says. “I promise it will make you feel better.”

Louis nods his head and does as he’s told. In the bathroom, he splashes his face with water, and it does make him feel less panicked. He takes a big gulp of cold water, and he’s less terrified that Caleb’s going to show up around the corner. He changes into the clothes, and he’s not shaking anymore.

When he gets back into the room, Harry is typing on his phone, but he looks up and smiles when Louis comes in.

“What do you like on your pizza?” he asks, looking back down at his phone.

“What?”

“What do you like on your pizza?” he asks again. “I’m ordering us pizza, what do you like on it?”

“Why are you ordering us pizza? We’re supposed to meet Liam and Zayn and Niall for dinner in 20 minutes.”

“Do you really want to see the guys right now? Or leave the room? I know we both love their sorry asses but I’m guessing you’re not really in the mood to see anyone else at the moment. Or move. You’re probably not really in the mood to see me right now, but that’s too bad,” he says, smiling.

Louis wants to know how that smile tastes.

But Harry does have a point, all Louis wants to do is make his stomach stop growling and curl up under his covers.

“Just pepperoni is fine with me,” he says.

“Boring,” Harry singsongs, “I’m getting pineapple and chicken.”

“That sounds horrid,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

Harry types on his phone for a minute and then he gets up, puts his phone in his back pocket, and looks at Louis expectantly.

“Pizza is ordered. I told Zayn to hang out with Liam for a while tonight,” he says.

When Louis opens his mouth to protest, Harry just talks over him.

“It’s fine, he loves spending time with Liam. They’re doing the same thing they would be doing tonight, just in a different room. Now where are your movies?”

Harry’s voice is so confident and laced with finality that Louis just sighs and points to the top drawer in the cabinet that the TV sits on. Harry rifles through the drawer for a second before he makes a happy noise, taking out a disc and placing it in the DVD player.

“What movie is it?” Louis asks, sitting on his bed.

“No questions,” Harry says, pulling the beanbag out of the corner and placing it closer to Louis’ bed. “Now get under your blanket and relax, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

As Louis gets under his blankets as per Harry’s instructions, Harry grabs the remote and turns off the lights before plopping down next to him. The DVD menu pops up after a few seconds and Louis almost faints when he sees what movie it is.

“Grease?” he asks, staring at Harry with an open mouth.

“Is that okay?” Harry asks, pulling at his lips with his fingers. “I thought it was a good choice to cheer you up.”

“A good choice? Jesus, Harry, this is my favorite movie,” he says, bewildered, “Did I tell you this was my favorite movie?”

“Before right now?” he asks and Louis nods his head. “Nope.”

“That’s insane,” Louis says, sitting up straighter in his bed, ready for it to begin.

He hopes Harry knows what he’s getting into.

“Are you going to play it or what?” Louis asks with a playful smile, looking down at Harry, who’s looking up at him.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he says, shaking his head at something Louis can’t see and hitting a button on the remote.

The opening credits roll and Louis is already singing along. Harry is laughing under his breath, Louis can hear him, but it just makes him sing louder and smile wider. A moment later, Harry is singing too.

Louis wasn’t expecting Harry to know every single word like he does, but Harry might know this movie even better than he does. He sings the girls part in “Summer Nights” flawlessly, not a single missed word while Louis belts out the guys part. Louis admits 10 minutes in to the movie that he played Danny in his high school’s production when he gets nostalgically teary-eyed. Harry almost dies of laughter until Louis gives him a withering stare, explaining how important the role was to him. Then he apologizes and Louis catches Harry smiling at him out of the corner of his eye every once in a while.

Louis also catches the way Harry’s beanbag keeps getting a little closer to his bed until they’re harmonizing on “Hopelessly Devoted to You” and Harry is practically right under him. He doesn’t mind that Harry keeps getting closer, but his heart does. It almost gives out when Harry sings directly to him, placing his hand on Louis’ leg, and smiling innocently like Sandy does so well.

Louis thinks that maybe Harry can feel how fast his heart is beating because his smile widens and he sits up, bringing himself even closer to Louis. He’s singing more quietly now, and Louis doesn’t know if he’s ever noticed Harry’s lips this much. They’re pink, like weirdly pink. And perfect. He’s staring now, he can feel himself staring at Harry’s lips as they move along with the words, but he can’t seem to stop.

Harry’s lips stretch into a smile right before his phone rings so loudly that Louis jumps at the noise.

“Sorry, shit,” Harry says, scrambling to get his phone, “That must be the pizza.”

“It’s fine,” Louis breathes out as Harry answers the phone.

He’s slipping on his shoes a second later and heading out the door, promising to return bearing pizza. As soon as he’s out the door, Louis pulls the covers up over his head, squishes a pillow to his face, and screams into it.

Every minute he spends with Harry just reinforces his stupid crush, which has now apparently exploded into full-blown pining. Louis doesn’t know if he imagined Harry’s lips getting slightly closer before his phone rang, but it’s a definite possibility. He has a problem about romanticizing moments in his mind, that’s why he’s a poet.

When he hears the door opening, he flings the covers off of his head and tries to look as casual as possible.

Harry smiles at him, balancing two pizza boxes in one hand and Louis thinks he might vomit again just from nerves. It’s not like they’re on a date, they’re just two friends hanging out and watching a movie together. Except one of those friends really wants to straddle the other one.

It’s normal; it’s all fine and normal.

Louis plays the movie once they’re both sitting again, but Harry seems to be having a hard time getting comfortable enough in the beanbag to eat his pizza. Louis moves so that his back is up against the wall and he’s sitting with his legs vertically across the bed. He pauses the movie and pats the space beside him, offering Harry a more comfortable spot.

“Oh thank God,” Harry says, attempting to get out of the beanbag. “I think my spine was starting to become permanently curved.”

Harry sits down right next to Louis and pulls his pizza box up into his lap. Louis plays the movie again, and they both hum the songs with their mouths full. Harry doesn’t mind when Louis tells stories about his production or generally talks during the movie, which is a first. Most of his friends back home and his family always get on him for that. But Harry seems genuinely interested in everything he has to say. It’s a nice change.

At one point, Harry puts down his pizza box and shifts closer to Louis, claiming he’s cold. Louis offers to let him under the blanket and Harry accepts, his toes brushing against Louis’ socks when he settles himself.

Harry is sitting so close to him that their thighs are pressed together, and Louis is grasping at his sheets to keep himself calm.

By the time the movie ends, Harry’s warmth has seeped into Louis. He’s so tired that he wants to lay his head on Harry’s shoulder and fall asleep right there. He’s released his death grip on the sheets, and every part of him feels relaxed. His eyelids are starting to droop when the credits roll, and Harry notices.

“Okay, I think that’s my cue,” he says, getting up and collecting the empty pizza boxes.

Louis has already dropped onto his pillow and burrowed into his covers by the time Harry reaches the door.

“Thanks for tonight,” Louis mumbles into his pillow before sitting up and continuing, even though his body is screaming for sleep. “Seriously, it was exactly what I needed.”

“Of course,” Harry says like it’s nothing, “Anytime. I’m just down the hall, remember?”

“Of course.”

“Goodnight, Louis.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

The door closes quietly, but Louis gets up immediately and turns on a light instead of going to sleep like he should.

He opens his desk drawer, and pulls out his notebook and favorite pen. He writes furiously for two minutes, crosses out a few things, and then turns off the lights.

He sleeps like a baby for once, and the only thing on his mind when he falls asleep is summer loving and Harry’s lips.

_ _

CHAPTER 4: NIALL

_

I’m seasick with you
Not like when you’re around I’m seasick
Seasick like
unsure of my footing
stomach churning
knuckles white from holding on so hard
that kind of seasick
You’re this fucking ocean
Everywhere I am you’re pulling me under
and when I break the surface and take a breath it feels like you
There’s salt and wind and you in my hair and I can’t get rid of it
every time the wind blows it’s your scent I smell
You’re standing across from me
on solid ground
and I still think I might throw up from just the sight of you
stumbling around
I am a set of white knuckles that can’t get my fingers around you fast enough

-“Seasick” by SMN

_

Niall has to physically remove the new poem from Harry’s hand the next week. He’s just sitting on his bed, staring at it when Niall walks in. As soon as he does, Harry is on his feet, ready to read it to him like he always tries to do. Niall is having none of it.

“Please Niall, this one is worth it,” he says. “It’s a really new style for him, just let me read it to you.”

“Not right now,” Niall replies, digging through Harry’s drawers for his maroon jumper.

When he finds it, he hands it to Harry and goes to his closet to find a jacket and a blanket. He stuffs the blanket in his bag and turns to give the jacket to Harry, only to find that Harry has laid the jumper on the table and is reading again.

“Harry, put on your fucking jumper, we’re going to be late.”

“I’ll put on my jumper if you let me read this to you,” he says.

“Fine,” Niall says, motioning for Harry to get dressed.

Harry’s got the jumper over his head in a second, and Niall hands him his big black peacoat after that. Once Harry is properly dressed, Niall grabs the paper from his hands, flings it across the room and drags Harry out after him.

“Liar,” Harry hisses as Niall shuts the door, taking Harry’s keys from his hands and locking up.

“Sorry mate, but we are not going to be late for Liam’s game again,” he says, pushing Harry inside the elevator and pressing the ground floor button. “Louis is waiting for us downstairs and Zayn won’t be able to hold our seats forever.”

“I know, I know,” Harry says, his face the picture of petulance. “Louis already texted telling me to hurry up.”

“He’s excited to see Liam play for the first time,” Niall says as they get out of the elevator. “We’ve been watching him for years, but this is really exciting for Louis. Don’t ruin it because you hate being cold and you would rather be reading a poem, okay?”

“I would never,” Harry says, sounding actually offended at the idea of ruining something for Louis.

“I know you wouldn’t because you like making Louis happy.”

“Shut up,” Harry says, back to hissing as they exit the building to find Louis standing outside, smoking as usual.

He smiles brightly at them both, hugging Niall first and Harry afterwards as they exchange greetings. When Niall inclines his head towards the stadium, Louis grabs his backpack and they take off together.

Niall has noticed that just over the past week, Harry and Louis have gotten closer and closer. It’s even been showing physically. At meals, they either sit next to each other or directly across from each other. Also, Louis’ arm is now looped through Harry’s. Just little things like that.

Niall, Zayn and Liam are all very happy about this development. They even have a pool going to see how long it will take them to get together, and Niall’s date is fast approaching. He smiles to himself when Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder as they walk. He wants that 150 pounds.

They get to the stadium in five minutes or so, and they find Zayn in the stands easily. They’ve got amazing seats, right at the center line of the pitch. Zayn always finds the best seats so that they can see Liam. He loves watching Liam play rugby, it’s ridiculous how much he loves it. Niall is actually extremely happy that Louis is there because Harry complains about being cold through most of the game, and Zayn doesn’t want to talk, he just wants to watch Liam play.

Zayn slides down so they can sit, and Niall takes the seat next to him, leaving the last two open for Harry and Louis. Once he’s settled, he pulls out two blankets, hands one to Zayn and one to Harry. Zayn shares with Niall and Harry shares with Louis while Zayn pulls out different bags of snacks and hands them around, and Niall brings out the flask. Louis looks very impressed throughout this process, but they have it down to a science at this point.

Niall loves watching Liam play almost as much as Zayn, but rugby is a bit more fun when you’re a little tipsy. You’re less worried about players being seriously injured that way, which is especially important when it comes to Zayn.

Harry is already starting to shiver, so Niall hands him the flask, reminding him that nothing warms you up like alcohol.

“Wait,” Louis says before Harry takes a sip, “I actually brought something different for you.”

All three of them look at Louis like he’s crazy.

“What, did you drug it?” Zayn asks, eyebrows raised.

“No, Jesus,” Louis says, backtracking and turning to Harry. “Niall told me you’re always complaining about how cold you are at these games-”

“Thanks, Niall.”

“So I had an idea,” he continues, pulling out his own flask and handing it to Harry.

Harry just looks at it and then looks at Louis.

“Are you sure you didn’t drug it?” Zayn asks.

“Yes,” he says. “I promise it’s not drugged and I promise it will keep you warm.”

Harry is still looking at him skeptically.

“Trust me.”

Harry unscrews the top and takes a sip, the rest of them watching as he does. When he swallows, his face bursts into a smile.

“Holy shit, is this Amaretto?”

“Yep,” Louis says, popping the “p”.

“That’s actually fucking brilliant,” Niall says, grabbing for the flask, which Harry does not let him have.

“No, Louis packed this specifically for me,” Harry says.

That is not enough reason for Niall not to have some Amaretto, so he grabs for the flask again.

“I promise that if you let me have this,” Harry says, holding the flask away from Niall, “I will not complain about being cold once for the entire game.”

Niall thinks back to all of the past games spent stuck between Harry and Zayn, and he agrees that it’s a fair trade. Plus it’s more alcohol for himself from his flask.

“You have to share with me, though,” Louis says, looking at a horror-struck Harry. “I packed that, remember?”

Harry remembers and acquiesces, handing the flask to Louis who takes a huge gulp. Niall is completely fine with this as well, bringing it down to just him and Zayn sharing a flask. Much more alcohol for him.

When the whistle blows to start the game, Niall hands the flask to Zayn, who takes a large swig with his fingernails in Niall’s thigh as the two teams start charging towards each other. Luckily for Zayn’s sanity and the safety of Niall’s thigh, Liam only gets taken down a few times, and only one of them looks serious enough that Zayn leaves a mark.

Louis is particularly engaged in the match, cheering loudly and booing just a loud throughout. Harry, on the other hand, is particularly engaged in Louis. Niall can’t help but watch his best mate fawning and sighing out of the corner of his eye. Harry may think he’s being sneaky, but it’s written all over his face when he laughs at one of Louis’ bad jokes or when Louis scoots closer to him during a strong gust of wind.

The match ends with Liam’s team winning easily, two empty flasks, and four very cold boys. It’s almost 10 as Niall waits with Louis, Harry and Zayn outside of the locker rooms for Liam. When he finally emerges, he’s kneading his shoulder with his hand, and Zayn goes to him so quickly that he almost knocks him over.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Liam says with a tired smile, “I might have pulled a muscle, but nothing too serious.”

“Zayn was convinced you dislocated it,” Niall says, which earns him a death glare from Zayn and an even bigger smile from Liam.

“Worried about me, huh?” Liam asks, wrapping his uninjured arm around Zayn’s shoulders and planting a kiss on his forehead. Zayn looks up at him and sticks out his tongue, which is apparently just enough for Liam to get a whiff of his breath. “Holy shit, Niall. How much alcohol did you pack?”

“Actually,” Niall explains, “Louis is to blame this time. He brought an extra flask so Zayn and I shared mine.”

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles through a smile, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder again.

Apparently, Louis is quite the lightweight, which is probably not the best thing considering where they are heading next.

“Please don’t get too crossfaded at Josh’s, okay?” Liam says to Zayn. “I don’t need you to pass out on me again.”

“Yeah, please don’t,” Harry says, his words slurring slightly. “That was terrifying.”

“How many times do I have to apologize for that?” Zayn asks as Liam starts walking back towards campus.

“For as long as I have to hear about how worried Liam was,” Niall says. “So, forever.”

Louis giggles at that, and Niall is shocked by the sound coming from his mouth. Louis is apparently an absolute child whilst intoxicated, and it’s strangely endearing. Harry obviously agrees with Niall as he bites his inner cheek and helps Louis keep his balance.

“Wait,” Louis calls to Liam, Zayn, and Niall, who are up ahead, “Where are we going?”

“To a party, love,” Harry tells him for the fifth time.

“Oh yeah!” Louis says, smiling up at Harry like the sun.

“A Christmas party,” Niall reminds them, taking off his backpack and throwing four pairs of antlers at his friends, leaving the Santa hat for himself.

Niall thinks that if he plays his cards right during this party, plays the right music and gets Harry just a little tipsier that tonight could be the night he becomes 150 pounds richer. He hears Harry’s voice get soft when he calls Louis “love”, he sees Louis’ smile growing every time they touch. He feels it from both sides, but he’s guessing that neither of them realize how painfully obvious they are yet. But they will. All they need is a little help from their friends.

Two hours later, Harry is obviously not Niall’s friend or else he wouldn’t suck so much at beer pong. Louis is also obviously not Niall’s friend or else he wouldn’t have abandoned Niall to play with Harry in favor of getting high with Zayn and Liam.

Harry is literally the baby deer of beer pong. He hasn’t made a single shot. Niall and Louis had a pretty fucking awesome streak going, Louis explaining that his game severely improves when he’s drunk. The two of them had taken down 5 other pairs before Zayn had whispered something into Louis’ ear, causing Louis to tap Harry in, tell him he’d be back soon and follow Zayn outside.

Harry had looked disappointed, but not as disappointed as Niall feels now as they are defeated easily. He always wins beer pong, so he grabs Harry’s hand and drags him outside to where the traitor is sitting with Zayn and Liam.

“Louis,” Niall whines, “You left me with Bambi and he ruined my streak!” Harry huffs out a breath like a frustrated toddler, so Niall backtracks and tries to apologize. “Which is not your fault, Harry. You can’t help that you suck at beer pong, but Louis can.”

“Shhh,” Louis says, pointing his finger at Niall before grabbing Harry’s other hand and pulling him down to sit next to him. “Come smoke with us, Ni.”

Niall does as suggested, rolling his eyes and sitting down too, not because that’s what Louis said but because he really does want to smoke.

Niall can tell that Liam and Zayn are both blissfully high at this point because Liam’s lips are placed gently in the crook of Zayn’s neck. They never get this physical in front of other people unless they’re both gone out of their minds. He looks over at Harry and Louis next, and Louis is practically in Harry’s lap at this point. Harry looks absolutely delighted by this. He’s got his hands around Louis’ waist and Louis has his hands in Harry’s hair. Niall wouldn’t be surprised if they started snogging right then and there. But then Louis is handed the spliff and all of his attention goes back to the weed. However, Harry’s doesn’t.

A surge of pride wells up in Niall’s stomach as he watches Harry charm his way even closer to Louis.

“Let’s do blowbacks,” Harry says to Louis as Zayn groans, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I agree with Zayn,” Louis says, “What are we? 16?”

On a normal day, Niall knows that this would have seriously hurt Harry’s feelings. Harry would have shrunk into himself and not spoken for an hour or two if this was a normal day. But Harry is drunk, and drunk Harry is a whole different story.

“Hush you two,” Harry scolds, “It’s fun and I need someone else to do it with me.”

Apparently the idea of Harry putting his mouth near anyone else’s mouth is not a pleasant one, because Louis jumps on the blowback train very quickly after that.

Niall watches as Harry puts the burning end of the spliff into his mouth and takes Louis’ hands, making him cup them around his face. Louis leans in a moment later, taking a long drag from the other end. They don’t break eye contact the entire time. The moment is so intimate that Niall has to look away, looking instead at Zayn and Liam who are watching with raised eyebrows and smiles on their faces.

“Why are you two smiling?” Niall whispers, leaning over to them. “You’re both going to owe me money by the end of the night.”

Zayn flips Niall off as Louis exhales and drops his hands from Harry’s face, looking quite flustered. Harry obviously does not miss out on this fact, his smile wide as he hands the spliff over to Niall. Niall just shakes his head, trying not to laugh. Harry may look like and play beer pong like Bambi, but he can be a snake when he wants to.

The five of them sit in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the ridiculous club remixes of Christmas music blaring over the speakers. All of a sudden, the music changes and a large cry goes up when a new, extremely familiar song comes on.

Louis is on his feet in moments, grabbing Harry by the hands and hauling him upright quickly after that. Mariah Carey has just begun to sing when Louis starts shouting for them all to get up, that they all need to go and dance. Niall looks to Zayn and Liam with a question in his eyes. When Zayn simply shrugs, Niall shrugs back and follows Louis inside, Liam and Zayn not far behind him.

Louis and Harry have dived into the mass of the crowd jumping and singing at the top of their lungs and Niall loses them for a moment. Out of nowhere, a hand grabs his forearm and then he sees a familiar mop of curls, followed by Harry’s face smiling at him. Louis is literally screaming out the lyrics, so Niall takes a deep breath and follows suit. Soon he hears Liam and Zayn’s voices joining in behind him, and the chaos of it all is strangely comforting. He’s in a room full of shouting strangers, but the only voices he can hear are his best friends’.
It’s strangely comforting until one voice is missing. Niall can’t hear Louis singing anymore, and he turns to find Louis standing completely still and white as a ghost in the middle of the rambunctious crowd. He looks like he’s just seen the grim reaper walk into the party. Niall follows his line of vision over to a tall, blonde guy who’s just entered the party and is shaking hands with someone a few feet away.

Niall stops singing, trying to push his way over to Louis, which causes Harry to stop singing and look at Louis as well. Harry automatically has an arm around Louis’ shoulder, asking him what’s wrong, but Louis has already taken off in the direction of the door.

By this time, Zayn and Liam have noticed as well, and they’re all calling after Louis when they see him bolt out of the house in the direction of the street. He looks back quickly before the door shuts, and Niall doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so terrified. They all wait for a beat, looking at each other before they run after him.

Louis is already halfway down the street when they get outside, and Niall jogs to catch up with him. He reaches Louis first, and he reaches out to grab Louis’ arm. When he does, Louis yanks his arm from his grip, shouting, “Please, Caleb, don’t!”

Niall doesn’t know who Caleb is, but Louis is obviously very afraid that this Caleb was the one coming after him, not Niall or Harry or Liam or Zayn. So Niall grabs him again, this time turning Louis to face him.

“Louis, it’s me,” he says, trying to sound as calm as he can.

“Oh,” Louis says, his voice shaking and tears already forming in his eyes.

The rest of the guys catch up then, Harry immediately going to Louis and wrapping his arm around Louis’ waist, holding him steady. Louis is gasping for breath and the tears are coming down hard now. Niall has no idea what to say, and apparently neither do any of the rest of them. Niall starts with the only question he can think of.

“What’s wrong?”

Louis doesn’t say anything. Niall tries a different question.

“Who’s Caleb?”

This question gets a reaction at least. Louis’ breath hitches in his throat at the name and he starts sobbing. It’s a place to start.

“Louis,” Harry says, rubbing Louis’ shoulder with his other hand, “Please tell us what’s going on.”

“We can help you,” Liam says, taking a step closer.

“No,” Louis whimpers, shaking his head. “You can’t.”

Zayn is the next one to step forward, coming right up to him and placing his hands on Louis’ cheeks. He pulls Louis’ head up so that he’s looking at Zayn, who gives him a reassuring smile before he speaks
.
“Yes, we can. Tell us what’s wrong and we will help you. I promise.”

Louis looks around at each one of them, his eyes wild and searching for something in their faces. He must find it, because he nods his head slowly after that.

“Who is Caleb?” Niall repeats.

It takes a long time for Louis to answer. He’s sniffling and wiping his nose and eyes on his sleeve, obviously trying to compose himself. When the tears have finally stopped streaming down his face, he straightens up a bit and looks at them.

“Caleb is the reason I moved in with Zayn,” he says quietly.

The rest of them stay silent, just watching Louis and listening intently. No one moves, probably worried that they’ll scare the explanation away.

“He was my roommate at the beginning of this year, and- well, we started, uh- seeing each other not long after term started.”

Niall watches as Harry visibly tenses at that, his nostrils flaring and his shoulders rising an inch or two. Niall can see his jaw clenching from where he’s standing.

“He wasn’t- he wasn’t very kind to me,” Louis says, his resolve starting to crumble. “He talked down to me constantly, he was always calling me stupid and telling me I should work harder, but I thought it was just the way he showed love or some shit like that. I was really naïve and I just wanted someone to care about me. I thought he did. I was so wrapped up in him that I couldn’t see past his smile and hear what he was actually saying.”

He starts to cry again, but it’s silent this time, just tear after tear falling from his eyes.

“But then,” he whimpers, “a few weeks ago, something happened. I had bombed a huge test, and I came back to the room really upset, crying and shit, and he got really angry. I’m still not sure why he did, but he started yelling that I was worthless and that I would never make anything of myself. Which, of course, made me cry harder and I was suddenly so fed up that I yelled back at him, which I’d never done before. I remember he got really quiet, like dead silent, and then-”

Instead of finishing the sentence, Louis removes himself from Harry’s grip, wiping his eyes one more time before reaching down and pulling his jumper up to his chin. Zayn gasps audibly when he sees the sickly, yellow, mostly-healed bruises under the street lamp. There are at least 6 huge ones scattered over Louis’ stomach and chest. They look fist-sized.

“I ran after that,” Louis continues, dropping his shirt. “I spent the night in the library, and then I requested a new room the day after, saying that my roommate and I just didn’t get along.”

“Didn’t get along?” Harry shouts, “Didn’t you tell anyone?”

“No,” Louis says, “I was scared. You hear all those horror stories about victims not being believed on university campuses, and I didn’t want to have to go through that too. I was scared that if I said something, the university wouldn’t believe me and then involve Caleb and that he would come after me or something.”

Louis looks ashamed and even more scared after Harry’s outburst, and Niall sees Harry realize it a moment later. He’s back at Louis’ side in a flash, his arm back around him and an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m just angry, I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you.”

Louis just nods his head and leans it against Harry’s shoulder, who is making calming sounds and rubbing circles into Louis’ shoulder.

Niall is seeing red. He’s watching one of the best people he’s ever met have a complete breakdown in the middle of the street because some prick decided he could make him his punching bag. He’s not having it.

“Louis,” he says, trying to control the anger in his voice. “Was Caleb the blonde guy who walked into the party right before you left?”

Louis nods again.

He’s got his target and all he needs now is some backup.

“Liam,” he says, turning back towards the house, “Come with me.”

He takes off before anyone can say anything, but he hears Liam’s footsteps behind him, so he keeps going. It’s like he’s got tunnel-vision, the only thing he can see is the flashing lights of the party, and he’s not stopping until he does what he needs to do.

His breath is coming out rough and ragged by the time he throws the door open and steps inside, scanning the crowd for blonde hair. Liam spots him first, pointing across the room at someone standing with his back to them. Niall wastes no time pushing his way through the throng of dancing bodies to get there.

Niall is not usually one for violence, but people change.

Louis’ shaking figure flashes in his mind right before he taps Caleb on the shoulder. The bruises on Louis’ body flash in his mind right before he punches Caleb squarely in the jaw.

Liam is apparently on the same page as Niall because as soon as Caleb recovers from the punch, he’s charging towards him, making contact quickly, trapping Caleb’s neck between the wall and his outstretched arm.

Caleb is dumbstruck and bleeding as Niall approaches him slowly. Many other people in the room have stopped what they’re doing, someone is shouting and someone else is coming towards Niall. Niall glances at them and he knows there’s fire in his eyes because the guy stops short and puts his hands up, backing away slowly.

Niall finally reaches the squirming Caleb and he can feel his blood pumping in his veins. He leans down, squinting his eyes and smiling his most malicious smile before he speaks.

“Hello, Caleb,” he says. “We’ve just recently found out that you assaulted one of our best friends. We’re not too happy about it, as you can see. But you’re lucky we’re in a party with witnesses and I couldn’t find a bottle on my way in or else this would be a whole lot nastier.”

Caleb’s breathing is getting heavier and heavier by the minute. Niall can hear someone on the phone with campus security, and he knows they don’t have much time.

“To get to the point, my friend here is the captain of the rugby team. He’s won every game this season and his team would follow him into hell if he told them to. So if we hear that you’ve come anywhere near Louis again, you’re going to have 12 very large, very strong rugby players chasing your ass down and beating you until you can’t breathe for a week. Got it?”

Caleb nods, and there’s blood gushing from his nose, so Niall claps Liam on the shoulder, signaling for Liam to let Caleb out of his grip. Liam does so, taking a step back and watching Caleb carefully in case he decides to escalate and start a real fight. But Caleb just stays pressed up against the wall, looking like he’s about to piss himself.

“Lovely,” Liam says, taking a few more steps back. “Have a good night.”

Niall and Liam turn to leave the party and a path splits through the crowd to let them through. They get outside quickly, and Niall hears the faint sound of siren in the night air. Liam turns to look at him, a wild smile splitting his face, and Niall feels the same way with adrenaline coursing through his body. They take off in a sprint when the sirens get closer, running past Zayn, Harry, and Louis moments later, motioning and shouting at them to follow.

“What’s going on?” Zayn shouts, running behind them.

“Just follow us unless you want to be implicated in an assault,” Liam shouts back, slowing down a bit to take Zayn’s hand, dragging him along.

The five of them run hard and fast down the street, spotting their dorm building a few minutes later, all of them coming to a stop on the sidewalk, bent over and panting. Niall starts laughing when he looks at the rest of them, and so does Liam. Soon, they’re laughing so hard that tears are leaking out of the corners of Niall’s eyes, and Zayn, Louis and Harry are looking at them like they’ve transformed into maniacs, which they kind of have.

“What the fuck did you do?” Zayn says, turning to Liam, still out of breath.

Liam stands up straight, gets his laughter under control and wipes his eyes. Niall tries to do the same, but he forgets how high he is and it’s harder than he thought it would be. Luckily, Liam speaks for him.

“Niall punched him in the face and then threatened to send the whole rugby team after his sorry ass if he came near Louis again,” Liam says, his laughter coming back in full force. “I almost choked him out. It was beautiful.”

Zayn, Harry and Louis look completely baffled. They probably don’t believe that Niall would ever be capable of causing that kind of physical harm. Niall was a little surprised himself, he still is. But the look on Louis’ face when Niall and Liam’s actions sink in is so worth it that he can’t even describe it.

“In other words,” Niall says, walking over to Louis and putting his arm around his shoulder, “We took care of business.”

_ _

CHAPTER 5: LOUIS/HARRY

Harry shuts the door to Louis’ room as Louis sinks down onto his bed.

Crying, sprinting, alcohol and weed are not a good mix for him. He feels like his head is floating a few feet above his body and his feet weigh twice as much as they normally do. That’s probably not a good sign. The expression on Harry’s face is also probably not a good sign. He looks like he’s been hit by a bus, which to his defense, Louis’ story has almost as much impact as a bus.

“Where’s Zayn?” Louis asks while toeing off his shoes.

“He’s going to spend the night with Liam,” Harry answers, still standing by the door.

“He doesn’t have to do that on my account. It’s his room too.”

“He knows. He spends the night with Liam sometimes, and I think they both need it tonight.”

Louis feels guilt rise up in his throat as he crosses to his closet and puts his shoes inside, shutting the door after and leaning up against it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

The faint sound of Louis’ voice breaking in the almost empty room seems to jolt Harry back to care-taking mode because he’s by his side in seconds.

“Don’t ever apologize for this, okay?”

Harry cards his hands through Louis’ hair and Louis almost melts at the sensation. He nods in confirmation, or does he nod at something else? Harry has never been this physical with him before, and Louis doesn’t care if it’s Harry’s way of comforting him. He wants more.

He turns his face up to Harry’s, their eyes meeting in the little space between them. Harry’s eyes won’t stop moving as if they’re scanning every inch of Louis’ face for some sort of outward damage. Louis wants him to look at his lips.

But suddenly Harry is taking a deep breath and a step back, his eyes clouding over with confusion or doubt or something in that vein of emotions, Louis can’t tell which exactly. His heart drops a few centimeters in his chest.

“And it doesn’t matter now. He’s never going to come near you again.”

“I know,” Louis says, releasing the air that he’d been holding in his lungs. “I can’t thank you guys enough for that. Or for everything else you’ve done for me.”

“Well Niall and Liam were the ones who threatened him even more bodily harm than they’d already inflicted, so they’re the ones you should be thanking, not me,” Harry says, going to Zayn’s bed and sitting on the edge.

“No,” Louis says, crossing closer to him but keeping his distance. “You remember that night when I almost had a panic attack and we watched Grease?”

“Of course,” Harry answers, smiling for the first time since the party.

“I had just seen Caleb when you found me. That’s why I was so upset.”

“Oh,” Harry says, his head dropping down into his hands, “Oh god.”

“No, stop it,” Louis says, moving to the edge of Zayn’s bed and sitting on the floor between Harry’s legs. Harry’s sucks in a sharp breath when he looks up and finds Louis so close. “You were perfect. You did exactly what I needed that night. I don’t think anyone else could have handled me the way you did.”

Louis places both of his hands on Harry’s knees. Harry doesn’t look at him for quite a while, his eyes closed and his mouth set in a hard line. Louis thinks he must be trying to figure something out in his head, fighting some strange internal battle. Louis tries to bring him back to reality.

“Harry,” he says softly, rubbing his thumb on the fabric of Harry’s jeans.

It takes a second, but Harry’s eyes open and the corners of his mouth lift up. His smile is much more timid this time, but it’s still there. He shakes his head slowly, bringing his face down a little closer to Louis’ before he speaks.

“I don’t want anyone else to handle you except for me.”

Louis feels his pulse jack-rabbiting through his skin, his heart trying to keep up with the way Harry is looking at him.

He hears the way Harry’s words slur a little, thanks to the alcohol, and his own voice isn’t perfectly steady. He doesn’t know what to do next. The sprinting and the crying have sobered him up quite a bit, but he doesn’t know where Harry stands. He wants to kiss Harry, he wants to lift his face a few inches and press his lips against Harry’s, that’s all he wants. But he knows how alcohol works, it lowers inhibitions and he doesn’t want to take advantage of Harry in any way. Or it may be that Harry is one of those people who likes to kiss other people when they’re drunk and he doesn’t want that either. He wants this to mean something. He needs this to mean something.

“Harry,” he says again, pulling back an inch, about to change his mind when Harry interrupts him.

“I know what you’re thinking. You think we’re just both drunk and high off of adrenaline and maybe a little high in general, right?”

Louis nods his head. Almost his thoughts exactly.

“You think that if we do this right now, one of us will regret it in the morning right?”

Right on the money. Maybe Harry is his Liam.

“You think that one of us will wake up tomorrow morning and write this off as a drunken mistake and we’ll never speak to each other again, right?”

Louis nods again. Maybe he’s Harry’s Zayn.

“Okay, then we’re on the same page,” he says, sitting back a bit, his words coming out slow and sweet. “It’s not that I don’t like you, I do. A lot. Like you’re very beautiful and it’s really difficult not to kiss you, but I don’t want this to end up as just a hazy memory that neither of us can really appreciate, you know?”

Louis does know. There is definitely some sort of telepathic connection here.

The two of them sit together quietly for a minute until an idea forms in Louis’ head.

“Let’s wait until the morning,” he says, shifting to his knees. “Stay here with me tonight because I don’t want to be alone. Stay here with me and if we both wake up still wanting to kiss each other in the morning, we will. After we brush our teeth.”

Harry laughs, throwing his head back and leaning against his elbows.

“After we brush our teeth,” he repeats.

They both get ready for bed in a comfortable silence after that, Louis lending Harry a pair of track pants and a t-shirt to wear. Louis has never been one for modesty, but he turns his back as Harry changes. He wants to remember the moment he sees Harry undress for the first time perfectly.

Before they both get into bed, Harry moves across the room and bundles Louis into a hug. Louis inhales deeply and softens into the embrace after a moment, trying to take in every part of Harry that he can. Jesus Christ, he smells amazing. Louis had never noticed that before. He smells like the forest and freedom and home. Louis takes another deep breath, trying to memorize the scent. He wants to memorize every part of Harry, and this is a good place to start.

Harry pulls away a moment later, holding Louis at arm’s length and looking him in the eye.

“You’re safe with us,” he says. “You know that, right? You are safe with us.”

Louis does know, but he doesn’t have the words to tell Harry. What he doesn’t know is how he got this lucky. Bless whatever deity deigned to put Louis in the path of these wonderful people. He’s worried that he’ll burst into tears if he opens his mouth, so he just nods his head and smiles.

The two of them go their separate ways then, both climbing into their respective beds. Louis would love to spend the night curled around Harry, but he knows that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop his lips from finding Harry’s. It’s better this way.

They both lay in bed, their eyes half-open, watching the other until Louis’ eyes get too heavy to keep open any longer. He smiles a little when his eyes finally close, and that night he dreams about toothpaste and being home.

When he wakes the next morning, it’s with a smile until he feels the way his head is pounding. He groans quietly, trying not to wake Harry unless he’s already up. Louis opens his eyes to see his dorm wall staring back at him, so he turns over, eager to see if Harry has been waiting for him to wake up. Maybe he’ll have a toothbrush in his hand with that stupid smile on his face.

There’s someone sitting up in Zayn’s bed, but it’s not Harry. It’s Zayn. A very concerned looking Zayn.

Louis feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He says the only thing that he can think at that moment.

“Where’s Harry?”

Zayn sighs and gets up from the bed, crossing closer to Louis. Louis sits up and then immediately regrets it when his head starts pounding like a fucking war drum.

“Slow down,” Zayn says, moving over to him swiftly with a glass of water and two paracetamol. He hands them over and Louis swallows them dutifully, his head still a chorus of “Where’s Harry?”

He asks again and Zayn sighs again.

“We’re not sure,” he says.

“What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“We saw him earlier this morning but we don’t know where he went after that,” Zayn answers, sitting down on the edge of Louis’ bed.

“He came into Liam and Niall’s room around 7 practically out of his mind. He was raving like a lunatic, I don’t know. He said that he couldn’t decide, he couldn’t choose. He was close to tearing his hair out. We calmed him down a little bit and asked him what he was trying to choose between and…” Zayn says, trailing off and looking decidedly ashamed.

“Choose between what?” Louis presses.

“Between you and Someone,” Zayn says, looking at the floor. “After that, he just left and we haven’t seen him since.”

Louis doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know what to think, so he does the only thing he can. He starts laughing.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” Zayn says, putting his hand on Louis’ shoulder and looking taken aback. “I have no idea what gotten into him or why he’s even still hung up on someone he doesn’t even know. Niall, Liam and I really all wanted this to work out between you two. Well, not that it hasn’t not worked out yet, but you know what I mean. I think. I’m sorry, I’m really hungover and confused right now.”

Louis is laughing so hard that he almost starts to cry. Poor Zayn must think he’s insane too.

He has no idea how to explain the situation to Zayn. He doesn’t even know if he wants to explain the situation to Zayn, but he feels like someone else should know besides him. Maybe Zayn will have an idea of what to do, because Louis certainly doesn’t.

His hysterical laughter trails off a bit as he gets up from his bed and crosses to his desk. He’s close to quiet by the time he pulls his leather bound journal out from the second drawer of his desk. He tosses the journal to Zayn, who looks completely out of it by this point, but he still catches it, sending Louis a confused look afterwards.

“Just open it,” he says, collapsing back onto his bed, and burying his head in his hands.

He knows what it says on the inside cover, he’s seen the words every time he opens the damn thing.

Property of SMN, please return to Professor Thornton if found.

Zayn must see the words a moment later because he gasps so loudly that Louis jumps a little bit. He feels Zayn leap up from the bed, and he looks up to find him staring at the journal with his mouth hanging open.

“You’re- It’s you?”

“It’s me.”

The room is silent for a moment just before Zayn explodes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he shouts, hurling the journal at Louis. He catches it before it hits him in the face, luckily.

Louis has never seen Zayn angry, and it’s not pretty. He’s breathing heavily with his hands curled into fists and he looks genuinely murderous.

“I don’t know, it’s complicated,” Louis says, standing and taking a step closer, trying to placate him.

“It’s complicated?” Zayn repeats, still shouting. “Do you know how much more complicated you made it by not saying something in the first place?”

“Yes,” Louis mumbles like a child who’s gotten caught stealing cookies by their mum.

“God,” Zayn says, almost back to a normal speaking voice. “God. You- you are so thick sometimes. Sometimes I think I’m the only sane one out of you lot. After Niall and Liam last night, Harry this morning and now this? That’s it, it’s final. The votes are all in- I am the only sane one.”

“You are,” Louis says with a small laugh that Zayn shuts down with a furious flick of his eyes.

“So I’m guessing you want to know how to fix this?” Zayn asks, sitting down on Louis’ bed with an exhausted sigh.

“It would be lovely if you had any ideas.”

“Lucky for your lying ass, I do,” he says. He gets up from the bed and goes to his own desk, pulling out his laptop. He turns it on and looks at Louis like he’s waiting for Louis to do something. He sighs, obviously frustrated that he has to explain everything to Louis. Louis is just grateful that Zayn hasn’t strangled him yet.

“Write something for Harry,” he says, looking down at his screen.

“What?” he asks, staring down at the journal in his hands.

“Get a pen and write something for Harry,” Zayn orders. “Make it good. Make it something he won’t forget, okay?”

Louis has absolutely no idea what’s happening, but he trusts Zayn, so he grabs a pen and nods his head.

“Now,” Zayn says, looking up at him over his computer screen, “What is Professor Thornton’s email?”

_

Harry wakes up very early.

For some reason, his body never lets him sleep when he drinks. It’s like he’s got an internal clock that says he’s not allowed to sleep past 7 after a night of drinking. It’s a very annoying habit.

When he wakes up, his head is pounding and it tastes like something crawled into his mouth and died. He sits up as slowly as he can, but his head still screams at him no matter how slowly he goes. He needs some paracetamol. And a toothbrush. And toothpaste. And a time machine to go back in time to stop himself from drinking so much.

He hears someone snoring softly on the other side of the room and his stomach does a cartwheel when he sees Louis snuggled up in a blanket in his bed. He’s much more excited about getting a toothbrush and toothpaste when memories of their agreement from last night come floating into his head. Maybe he’ll surprise Louis by waking him up with a kiss. Like Sleeping Beauty but with two guys. That sounds like much more fun.

He tries to leave the room as quietly as possible, stripping down and putting his own clothes back on while watching Louis the whole time. He closes the door softly, and walks back to his room with a smile on his face.

The smile falls off of his face as soon as he enters his room.

There, on his stupid wall, is the reason Harry didn’t kiss Louis last night. He remembers now, he remembers pulling away from Louis once when they were close. He remembers pulling away a second time and giving Louis some bullshit excuse about not wanting to wake up and regret the kiss. The reason is staring him in the face in the form of a sea of poems taped up on his wall and three small letters. SMN.

He knows it would sound insane to anyone else, but Harry couldn’t help the nagging feeling in his stomach the night before when he got so close to the lips he’d wanted to taste for so many weeks. He felt guilty, he felt like he was cheating even though he wasn’t. He doesn’t understand it fully. Louis is everything he wants, but he’s not SMN. Apparently, that’s reason enough for Harry’s brain and body to deny him everything good he’s found in Louis.

He throws his keys onto his bed and stares up at all of the words laughing at him.

He can feel frustrated tears welling up in his eyes, so he climbs onto his bed and begins to rip down page after page of words that he’s held so close for the past year. He rips them down as quickly as he can, denying himself the tears that want to come out so badly. When he finishes, there is hair in his eyes and he can feel his hands shaking with anxiety.

He doesn’t know what to do next, where to go from here, so he goes to the only people that might have a clue.

When he bursts into Niall and Liam’s room, its inhabitants are all still very much asleep. That is, until Harry starts yelling.

“Hey!”

Nothing happens.

“Hey!” he yells again, this time causing Niall to stir and groan in his bed.

“Hey! Wake up! I need your help,” he says, crossing to the middle of the room to see Zayn opening his eyes slowly.

“Do you guys hear me?” he asks, “I need your fucking help!”

“What the fuck?” Liam mumbles, rolling over and throwing his arm around Zayn. “Z, who is the lunatic yelling?”

“It’s Harry,” Zayn answers, sitting up and then laying back down, a hand to his head and a pained look on his face. “Apparently he needs our help.”

“It’s 7 am,” Niall groans, “We’ll help you at noon, Harry.”

Harry is pacing now with his hands in his hair. He can feel the anxiety clawing at his throat and he needs some answers before he has a full-out panic attack.

“No,” he whines, “I need your help now. I fucked up. I fucked up big time with Louis.”

This, at least, gets a reaction. Niall is sitting up a moment later, looking alert as he can being hungover and groggy. Zayn and Liam both have their eyes open now and Liam is struggling to sit up.

“What did you do?” Niall asks, his face a mix of concern and wariness.

“I told him something last night that I’m not sure I meant and now I can’t choose and I’m going to hurt him,” Harry says, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can form them into coherent thoughts.

“You can’t choose?” Liam asks.

“I can’t choose, I can’t pick one or the other,” Harry affirms, pacing even quicker now, trying to match his footsteps with the pounding of his head.

“Between who, Harry?” Zayn asks, his voice the lone voice of reason as always.

“Between Louis and Someone,” he shouts.

He knows he sounds like he’s fucking out of his mind for even considering anyone besides Louis, especially someone that he doesn’t even know if he really likes, but that’s where he is right now. He’s spent so much time falling in love with this mysterious person through their words that it’s like he’s an addict that can’t give up his fix. He can’t imagine reading one of SMN’s poems and not feeling affection for the person writing such beautiful words. It’s been a part of his life for so long now that he doesn’t know how he’ll deal without it. But if he chooses Louis, he’s got to give it up. He doesn’t know if he can.

“Harry, that’s ridiculous. You like Louis, a lot. You don’t even know who Someone is. You could hate him,” Niall says and that’s all Harry can handle right now.

He lets out a strangled cry and leaves the room, not knowing where he’s going. He hears Zayn call after him, but he doesn’t respond. He thought they would know what to do, but it’s obvious that they don’t see it the way he does. Maybe they’re saner than he is, he doesn’t know. But he does know how he feels and he doesn’t think his friends will understand it this time.

His head is moving almost as fast as he is, jumbled thoughts flying around his brain as he makes his way across campus towards the library.

The library has always been a safe place for him, a place where he could go and forget about everything else going on in his life. Once when he was 6, he’d gotten frustrated when his big sister had received a new bicycle for her birthday and he didn’t get one. He’d gotten so angry with his parents for not giving him a bicycle too that he’d packed a backpack and walked to the little library down the street and stayed there for a few hours. His mum found him eventually, but those few hours in the library had calmed him down more than a rational talk from his parents would have.

When he gets to the library, he goes straight to the poetry section and sits down in the corner. He feels kind a 6 year-old at this point, throwing a tantrum and running away to his pretend world where everything is okay.

The library is quiet for the morning of an exam day, and Harry watches dust particles dance around the air. Old leather couches line the walls and ragged wooden desks are scattered throughout. It smells like paper and times past. Harry breathes it in, savoring how comforted he is by the familiarity of it all.

He pulls out his phone a moment later, uninterested in reading anything on the shelves. Instead, he pulls up his file where he’s saved Someone’s poetry, reading page after page, remembering what it feels like to be affected by the words he’s written.

He’s on the fourth poem when he gets an email from Professor Thornton. He dutifully goes to his email and opens it, because even when he’s having a mental breakdown, he’s responsible.

Dear Harry,

I know that today is an exam day, but I looked over the schedule and I am almost positive that you do not have one today. If this is true, please report to my office at your earliest convenience. I have a special assignment that I need you to see to today. This is of the upmost importance.

Sincerely,

Prof. Thornton

Harry sighs, raking a hand through his hair and getting up from the floor. Of course, he finally gets to a place where he feels close to normal and responsibilities pull him away. He loves Professor Thornton, he really does, but she has a way of always needing him at bad times.

Harry leaves the library and reaches into his pocket, finding the earbuds he’d left tangled in his pocket from the day before. It’s a long walk over to her office on the other side of campus, so he might as well try to enjoy it as much as he can. He hits shuffle on Spotify, and of course, the song that plays first is a love song. A mushy, I’m-so-in-love-with-you-that-I-can’t-deal-with-it song from his guilty pleasure country playlist.

He doesn’t have the heart to change the song as he walks across campus, Hunter Hayes crooning in his ears about tattooing someone’s name on his heart.

Apparently his phone has a mind of his own because the rest of the songs that play on his way are in the same vein of sentimentality. Everyone but him knows what he’s thinking, obviously.

He reaches Professor Thornton’s office in about 10 minutes, pulling his earbuds out and pausing his music when he gets to her door. He knocks three times and he hears her call him in from behind the door.

“Hey Professor Thornton,” he says, trying to sound as normal as possible as he sits in the blue chair designated for students in her office.

She’s an older woman, probably about 50 years old. She’s been at the university for almost 20 years now, and she’s one of the best people Harry has ever met. She’s fiercely intelligent, hard-working and the best motivator Harry has at the school. She expects a lot from him which pushes him to work harder than he would under most other professors.

“Good afternoon Harry,” she says, smiling more brightly than she normally does. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“No problem. You were right when you said I didn’t have an exam today, so there’s not much else I had going on.”

“I figured,” she says, picking up a big manila folder lying on her desk. “Harry, I’ve decided that we are going to put out a special issue of The Colton Herald as a goodbye gift for the last day of exams tomorrow.”

That is not what Harry was expecting. Surely she doesn’t want Harry to go over a full layout for tomorrow.

“I’d like you to go over this layout and have it for me by 7 so that we can print tomorrow.”

Or not.

“Professor Thornton, I know I don’t have an exam today, but I’m going through some personal stuff at the moment and-”

“No excuses, Harry,” she says, interrupting him as her smile disappears. “I know you’re very busy at the moment, but as I said, this is of the upmost importance.”

She hands him the large manila folder, and he wonders why he can’t just do it online like he normally does. He looks back up at her, about to ask that very question when he sees the look on her face. The question dies in his throat. She’s got both of her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed. She’s the very picture of a person not to be challenged.

“Of course, Professor,” he replies, swallowing hard.

“Thank you, Harry,” she says, back to sweetness and a warm smile, “That will be all.”

Harry stands up from his seat and leaves the room, giving Professor Thornton a wave as he exits. When he shuts the door, he lets out a frustrated sigh and begins his trek back to the library to slave over the layout for the next few hours.

At least this will keep me from thinking too hard about Louis or Someone, he thinks.

And then it hits him. There’s a new poem in the layout, like there always is. Maybe something good will come out of this day after all.

Harry stops outside of the building and opens the folder. He rifles through the paper and the poem isn’t where it normally is. Usually it’s one of the first pieces he receives, so he’s worried until he reaches the last paper to the familiar choppy structure staring back at him. He sits down on the steps and takes it out, putting the rest of the articles aside.

_

I think the drought is starting to affect my mouth,
it keeps drying up when you’re around.

Especially when you look at me.
I keep trying to say something, anything to you
but when you look at me,
I can’t.

There’s a desert in my mouth,
you need a key for my jaw and
I don’t think I could even say my own name when you do that,
when you look at me.

When you look at me
I lose all control over my mouth
because my mouth doesn’t want to be in control anymore.

It wants your mouth,
it wants your mouth closer.

“Come on,”
I’m screaming in my head,
“Just kiss me.”

“I’ll be able to say something, anything to you
once you give my mouth what it wants.”

“Come on,”
I’m begging in my head,
“Please just kiss me.”

“I want to tell you my name.”

_

Harry is so taken aback by the poem that he almost doesn’t notice the signature at the end.

Almost.

When he does, the folder falls from his hands and papers go flying everywhere, including the poem.

It takes a second for him to realize what’s happened because he’s pretty sure his cognitive brain function is on the fritz, but once he does, he’s on his hands and knees searching for the one paper that he needs. He’s throwing unnecessary papers all over the place and a group of freshman girls starts laughing when they walk by, but Harry doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is that one stupid piece of paper that he can’t find.

He scrapes his hand on the pavement just before his fingers brush an article about the footie team out the way, revealing the words he’s been searching for underneath. His breath hitches in his throat as he gets the paper in his shaking hands again.

He reads the words at the bottom of the page 10 times before he believes they’re real.

-“Sustenance” by LOUIS WILLIAM TOMLINSON.

His body kicks into gear before his brain can catch up. As his feet fly across campus, his brain starts to put the pieces together, which makes him run even faster. He’s back to the dorm in record time, and he’s taking the steps two at a time, praying that Louis is in his room and not the dining hall or an exam, because he thinks his heart is going to give out from running so fast.

When he reaches their floor, he’s still sprinting and all he can see is Louis’ door. It’s the only thing in his mind until he passes Liam’s room and hears someone yelling after him.

“About time!” Niall calls, Liam whistling and Zayn cheering along with him.

“I don’t know what you two are so happy about. Time to pay up, bitches.”

Harry ignores them completely, coming to a halt in front of Louis’ door. Well, it’s more like he skids to a stop by slamming into the door, but who cares? His hand fumbles on the knob before he flings the door open, revealing Louis sitting on the edge of his bed, bouncing his knee and staring at his hands.

At the sound of the door hitting the opposite wall, Louis leaps to his feet.

He’s just as beautiful as Harry remembers. Messy bedhead, a light blue jumper hanging from his collarbones and soft grey track pants snuggled on his hips. He looks like something out of a dream, and honestly, he might be.

But his eyebrows are scrunched together and his hands are shaking at his sides. He’s nervous. He’s nervous about what Harry’s reaction is going to be. The sight of him like that, nervous about how Harry is going to take the news makes his heart beat even harder than it was before, which is probably impossible. When he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, all of the remaining breath in Harry’s lungs gets knocked out.

He has to bend over, bracing himself with his hands on his knees to get the breath back. He stays like that for a few moments, the poem still gripped tightly in his right hand. Finally, he stands up straight, holding out the poem in the space between them.

“You?” he pants out, his breath still not fully returned to him.

“Me,” Louis whispers, his voice shaking as hard as his hands.

“You wrote this about me?”

“I wrote that about you,” Louis answers, his face still concerned and a blush rising in his cheeks. “And the last three before that were about you as well.”

Harry’s heart falls out of his chest.

He doesn’t know where it goes, maybe it’s on the floor, maybe it’s gone forever or maybe it’s in Louis’ hands, but it isn’t where it’s supposed to be because he can’t feel it beating anymore.

He really must be out of a dream, he thinks. Lovely. It’s the last rational thought he has before he surges forward and closes the gap between them.

There are hands in his hair and he’s gripping at Louis’ waist like a lifeline.

Their mouths come together like that’s all they know how to do.

Harry is pulling him closer, tighter; there might be fingerprints bruised on Louis’ skin when Harry finally lets go. Not that he has plans to anytime soon.

Louis opens his mouth and breathes deep, like he’s trying to breathe the air between Harry’s lips.

Harry pushes harder, trying to show Louis, trying to tell him through the connection of their lips how badly he’s wanted to do this for so long.

Louis breaks the kiss then, his mouth still open and his lungs working hard to catch up to the beat of his heart. He smiles, then laughs and the sound reverberates in Harry’s head. He tries to memorize the way it feels to make Louis laugh, even though he knows it’s not the last time he will.

Harry smiles wide, all teeth and crinkly eyes. He pulls Louis back in and presses their foreheads together, both of them still trying to catch their breath. He leans down and kisses Louis again, quiet and soft this time. He loosens the vice he’s got around Louis’ waist. He’s going to touch, not bruise. He’s going to smile, not bite. He’s wants to make sure Louis knows that this is it, this is it for him; he’s going to be gentle and kind and anything Louis needs.

“I was going to choose you,” he says, moving a fallen strand of hair from Louis’ eye. “I hope you know that, I really was.”

“Of course you were,” Louis whispers. “You really didn’t have a choice.”

Harry furrows his brow, questioning, the corners of his mouth still raised in a smile.

“I chose you first,” Louis says. “You really didn’t have a choice.”

_ _ _