Chapter Text
The sun was bright right in front of Louis, blinding him through the windshield. He had his foot on the brake, holding his breath as a song by The Verve built up through the speakers. When it hit the chorus, he’d hit the gas.
Louis slipped his hand over the leather steering wheel, wanting to close his eyes and envision this as a scene from the outside. What it would look like - an old Bronco with a rusted hood, the crispness of his white t-shirt through the driver’s side window. The way the golden hues would reflect off of him.
It would be the perfect picture of an ending. Like some kind of metaphor as the sun got ever lower in the sky, with a song from a movie playing in the background.
The drums picked up and Louis tapped his thumb along to the beat. It was a Friday night at the end of May. The summer of ‘99 was just about to kick off, but it wasn’t quite ready yet here in Maine, even though there were days when it felt like it wanted to be. Days like today where the sun had been warm and the ocean breeze sent the sweet scent of wildflowers in through the windows.
A beautiful day for a wedding.
The lyrics cut in finally, “’Cause it’s a bittersweet symphony…” and he took a deep breath, resolving himself to finally drive away.
Just as he went to lift his foot off the pedal, there was a flurry of movement and a bang. He jammed his foot fully back on the brake, heart going wild in his chest. He’d very nearly hit someone because he was too busy picturing himself having a Reese Witherspoon moment to pay attention properly.
He blinked a few times, stunned to see Harry Styles with his hands splayed on the hood of his car. His chest was moving rapidly, pushing at the crisp white button down he was wearing underneath a black suit. There was a yellow rose pinned to his lapel, which probably matched the flowers inside.
Harry was staring at him with wide eyes. It had been years since they’d seen each other, since freshman year of college, and they’d both been a little too drunk for Louis to remember all the details. He looked different now, not just the way his frizzy curls had been tamed into perfect spirals around his face or the way his shoulders had broadened under the suit jacket. No, there was something different in his eyes, in the air around him. The frantic look on his face.
It had Louis smiling.
The window groaned as he cranked it down, letting a waft of sea air into the car. He could almost hear the waves crashing into the tall cliffs that were just behind the wedding venue. The music poured loudly outside now, so he turned the volume down to merely a whisper. Sticking his head out the window, he gave Harry a once over as if he hadn’t gotten a good look of him from inside the car. Just to see if it annoyed him and it seemed to work as Harry’s lip curled.
“Harry Styles,” Louis said with a bored tone. “Aren’t you meant to be getting married today?”
“Fuck off,” Harry retorted, finally leaning up off the hood of his car. He raised a hand as if to run it through his hair and stopped himself, probably remembering the hair stylist that had likely spent hours perfecting it. Instead, he looked around the parking lot, which was full of cars, but free of any other people. “Can I have a ride?”
“To your wedding?” Louis teased just to see Harry roll his eyes.
“Away from my wedding.”
Louis drummed a thumb on the steering wheel and couldn’t deny he was intrigued. Harry was the last person he ever expected to run away from the altar - he had the perfect love story with Samantha Bertram. Or at least that’s what they’d told people. For ten long years. Since they’d started dating sophomore year and penetrated every part of Cape Elizabeth High School’s campus with their fairytale.
He couldn’t deny it was kind of funny to watch it crash and burn.
“Where are you going?”
Harry stood up straighter, looking over his shoulder to the wedding venue. “I don’t know, where are you going?”
“Up the coast,” Louis answered vaguely. The back of the car was full of supplies, so high he could only see a sliver of the rear window.
Before he could even say yes, Harry was tugging open the passenger side door. There was a bag of snacks on the seat that he pushed off, hoisting himself up and onto it. “Sounds fun.”
“That wasn’t an invitation,” Louis said, but was already rolling up his window. “Won’t you have people looking for you?”
Harry adjusted the seat, tugging off his suit coat and tossing it in the back on top of a cooler. When his hands settled back in his lap, Louis saw they were shaking.
“Just drive,” he said, slouching down in the seat.
Louis took his foot off the brake just as the song built higher, swelling through the car louder when Harry turned the volume up. He thought he heard Harry snort, but it got buried under the outro.
The car rolled out of the parking lot and Louis glanced Harry’s way quickly. He was reclined and far too comfortable, a smug look on his face. Like this was exactly what he’d wanted to happen when he ran away from his own fucking wedding. Like Louis was a getaway car idling at the curb for him.
The thought was enough to have him scrunching his nose, a tingly wash of something running down his spine. His voice went cold, but not quite cold enough, when he said, “Put on your fucking seatbelt.”
He met Harry Styles when he was five years old. His family moved from a third floor apartment off Allan Ave in Portland to a little run down cape one street from the beach in Cape Elizabeth. The Styles family owned the house behind them, twice as big and three times as nice. It had a stunning view of the water and the rocky coastline. They’d been best friends from about the minute Louis kicked a soccer ball over the fence and climbed over to pick it up. A boy with stick straight brown hair and too big eyes had been holding it in his hands like it’d fallen from the sky.
After that they’d been attached at the hip. Harry’s parents had built a tree house in a fat oak at the back of the property with branches spilled out over the fence. Every fall Louis’ step-dad complained about raking up their leaves, but Louis perfected climbing up the fence, onto those overhanging branches, and into the tree house. It became their place. Where they spent all their time, the spot for when his house became too overrun from all his younger sisters and his parents arguing. Harry always seemed to be just as ready to climb up the rickety steps on his side, turn on the flashlight, and lose themselves to an imaginary world.
They grew apart as they grew older until they weren’t friends at all anymore. Until it felt like another life entirely where they’d been close enough to think the same things at the same time. To spend whole weekends holed up in the treehouse and make up names for all the constellations.
Louis didn’t know the first thing about Harry Styles anymore, really, except he felt like he did. Like he was still the same perfect asshole he’d become in high school when he liked to look down his too straight nose at Louis.
The way he commandeered his car, shoved Louis’ shit to the floor, dug through his tapes to change the music - making himself perfectly at home - showed that he was.
But maybe Louis was the same too, even at twenty-five, because he didn’t say anything, just drove straight up Route One through Ogunquit, Green Day’s Dookie playing loudly over the speakers.
It wasn’t until he’d turned onto the turnpike that he finally spoke, his words muddling with “Having a Blast”, when he asked, “So, why’d you run away from your wedding, then?”
“None of your business.” Harry sat up straighter and flattened out the white button down over his chest.
“Well it’s kind of my business,” Louis started and he couldn’t deny he was enjoying this. Even though they’d stopped being friends more than a decade before, they spent most of high school bickering. To the point that their friends used to joke they hated each other and Louis was never sure if they did or not. Never sure what that feeling was. But it had always been fun, the way they snipped at each other. “I’m basically aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
Harry snorted, shaking his head and tossing the curls around on top of it. “Please, as if you wouldn’t relish any chance to help ruin my life.”
“Sounds like taking you back might be more effective at that,” Louis teased, looking over to watch a dramatic wince pass over Harry’s face. “So what did it, then? Did her dad pay you to leave? Was her dress so ugly it changed your mind? No wait - it was the cake right? She probably wouldn’t let you have red velvet even though-”
Harry let out a loud groan. “Please stop.”
Rubbing his tongue over a tooth, he couldn’t help the smirk curling on his lips. There was a buzzing noise coming from Harry’s pocket that had started ten minutes earlier and only paused for a minute or so before it started up again.
“Well I guess it’s good you ran this way instead of hightailing it off the cliff.”
Harry laughed and it sounded sarcastic. From the corner of his eye, Louis watched him undo the bowtie around his throat and then roll down the window to throw it out. The wind whipped it from his hand, gone so quick he couldn’t even see where it went.
“Hey! Littering, man, the fuck?”
“God, do you ever stop talking!” Harry said loudly, half his words being swallowed by the still open window.
“It’s my fucking car, if you wanted silence then you could have walked.”
Harry muttered something under his breath he didn’t catch and maybe he was better off not knowing. Instead of arguing, he rolled his shoulders back and tightened his hands on the wheel. They were nearing the South Portland exit and Louis hesitated only a minute before speaking again.
“Did you want me to drop you off at your parents’?”
“What?” Harry asked, turning to face him.
“Are you going to your parents’?” Louis asked loudly and then glanced at the blank look on Harry’s face. “I mean, what’s the plan here?”
Harry scowled. “The plan was to get in the car and for you to drive. Too complicated?”
“I’m not your personal chauffeur.”
“Thank God for that,” Harry muttered and Louis ignored it because he’d always been the bigger person.
But it didn’t stop his nose twitching with annoyance. The exit was coming up, glowing bright green in the headlights. “Cape Elizabeth: yes or no?”
“No,” Harry said, finally rolling up the window. “Fuck no.”
“Alright,” Louis said, blowing right by the exit. Harry turned his head as they drove by to watch it disappear from view.
“Where are we going?”
“Thought you just wanted me to drive?” Louis tossed back.
He didn’t need to look to know Harry rolled his eyes.
In the cup holder, his cell phone started ringing - a red Nokia that was his prized possession. Louis flicked his gaze to the name on the screen and then to Harry, a smirk already curling on his face.
Turning down the music, he answered it, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder.
“Niall, hey. How’s it going?”
He was about the only friend Louis and Harry still had in common. Niall had such a bright personality and friendly demeanor that he fit in with just about anybody. Beyond that, he was so dedicated to the people he cared about, that it didn’t matter he’d moved to Pennsylvania for college and then DC after graduation when Louis had stayed in the area. They’d never really lost touch.
There was a loud breeze on the other end of the phone that cut off when Niall finally spoke. “Oh my fucking God, Louis. The wildest thing just happened at Harry Styles' wedding.”
He cut his eyes to Harry again, whose mouth was pulled wide in a grimace like he was able to hear Niall through the speaker and it almost had Louis laughing.
“Oh yeah?”
“Harry pulled a runner,” Niall said and maybe it should have been whispered or uttered dramatically, but he could hear the smile in Niall’s voice.
Louis couldn’t help the smirk when he drawled, “Well he did win states as a sprinter.”
Next to him Harry snorted quietly and Louis watched him shake his head, but over the phone, Niall laughed loudly. The tinny sound of it rang in his ear, so overwhelming and abrasive he pulled the phone back with a wince.
“He was just standing there at the altar, you know, like they do.” Louis rolled his eyes. “And the fucking string quartet, or whatever, starts playing ‘I Don’t Want To Miss a Thing’ by Aerosmith for Samantha to walk down the aisle-”
“That’s an awful song to walk down the aisle to,” Louis cut him off to say. “It’s so generic. Probably ten million people have walked down the aisle to that song. Not to mention the Armageddon implication.”
“I knew you’d say that. It started and I thought ‘Tommo would fucking hate this.’”
“Well apparently Styles did too, if he bolted.”
Next to him, Harry huffed and slouched down lower in his seat. When he undid his tie, he must have popped the top couple buttons of his shirt because it gaped widely, showing off the delicate curve of his collarbones and the dark ink he’d tattooed below it. Louis couldn’t quite make out what they were in the low lighting.
“He basically went poof,” Niall continued, oblivious to the way a few dark lines on Harry’s chest had captured Louis’ attention. “Liam ran out after him, but he was already gone.”
“Sounds like quite an event.” He refocused on the road in front of him, stubbornly not looking over to see how his words landed. “Did they at least feed you?”
“No! Absolutely ridiculous,” Niall muttered. “I did steal some of the cake though. Just a sliver off the back. Seemed like it would go to waste if I didn’t.”
That had Louis laughing at the windshield, such a clear image of Niall cutting a piece and sneaking it out under his suit jacket in his head. “Good on you, Ni.”
“I know right, genius really. Liam thought it lacked tact, but Harry wouldn’t care. I’m sure of it.”
Louis glanced his way to check, but Harry didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. He was looking out the window, maybe at how the coast dappled in and out of view beyond the trees.
“Who gives a fuck if he does, anyway,” Louis said, just to bother Harry, just to see if he’d toss Louis a glare, but he didn’t.
Niall laughed and then it sounded as if he took a bite of the cake. When he spoke again, his mouth seemed to be full. “Hey, how’s the drive going? Are you almost to the ferry?”
“Still about an hour to go,” Louis said, drumming his finger on the steering wheel. He’d been avoiding telling Harry where they were headed because he honestly thought it was kind of funny. Commandeering Louis’ vehicle didn’t mean Harry was privy to all his plans.
“Well, have a safe drive. I’m gonna check my calendar and I’ll let you know about your offer.”
“Sounds great, man.”
Niall tossed out a, “See ya!” before hanging up and the car was quiet for a moment around them. The music was playing so low that he couldn’t even tell what song it was, only just the vaguest echo of a guitar solo.
“The ferry?” Harry asked like a long delayed echo.
“Huh?”
“Did he say we were taking a ferry?” Harry asked and then paused to add, “to where?” The last words tumbled out in a perfectly sweet tone and Louis could perfectly picture the doe-eyed, slow blink that would accompany it.
“Big B.”
“Excuse me?”
He cut his eyes over and saw a frown on Harry’s face, more harsh than he would have imagined until it dawned on him. The childhood nickname Louis used to tease him with, one he hadn’t had cause to think of or use in half a decade.
“Big B,” Louis said again, lips teasing up in a smirk. “Greater Blueberry, the island. What’d you think I meant?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Harry sniffed.
“Yeah alright, Bee Sting. Whatever you say.”
“Don’t call me that,” Harry grumbled. It was a longstanding argument between them, a gentle ribbing, as Louis would call it, for something that had happened over fifteen years before. It shouldn’t have held any bite anymore, but Harry never did know how to take anything lightly. At least not when it came to Louis.
He snorted, shaking his head. “Basket Case” ended and the cassette clicked off, so he ejected and flipped it so “She” flooded the car. Louis turned it up and just as the drums kicked in Harry said something, but he couldn’t hear it. It would have been polite to turn the music down, but he turned it up instead, trying to contain a laugh at the annoyed rise and fall of Harry’s shoulders in the seat next to him.
After only a few seconds, Harry slapped the media button to turn it off completely.
“I said,” he explained, though Louis hadn’t asked, “Why are we going to Greater Blueberry Island?”
Louis tapped his thumb on the steering wheel, wondering how honest he should be. Finally he said, “I live there.”
“No you don’t.”
“How would you know where I live or don’t live?”
“I just do,” Harry huffed out, arms crossing over his chest. “You still live at your mom’s.”
“For some of the year,” Louis amended. “The summer I spend at Big B.”
When he looked over, Harry seemed like he wanted to say something, make another snarky know-it-all comment, but he kept his mouth shut. So Louis turned the music back on and they rolled through the rest of Dookie and then Harry fished through the box of cassettes under the passenger seat to pull out Sheryl Crow’s first album. They both belted “Run, Baby, Run” at the windshield and then got through the rest of the album before reaching the ferry terminal in Rockland.
It was the last one for the day, last one for the weekend actually, out to Greater Blueberry. They hadn’t started the more regular trips yet for the summer season and wouldn’t until next week. The back of the car was full of supplies - coolers and reusable totes of food. Plus his clothes and linens for the bed. Everything he’d need for a few weeks at least as the trips back to the mainland were such a pain in the ass.
Louis got in line for the ferry. A couple cars were already parked and there was about fifteen minutes until they were scheduled to board.
“You can get out here,” Louis offered.
“What?” Harry turned to look at him.
“There’s not a ferry back until Monday. I don’t think when you jumped in my car you meant to disappear from your life for three whole days.”
Harry was silent for a moment, either watching the car in front of them, where the kids in the backseat had their arms wiggling in the air, or maybe staring out to the ferry and Lemon Cove beyond. Louis thought he might say something sarcastic back, might tell him to shut up or to leave it alone. But his voice was softer, more vulnerable when he finally spoke.
“Honestly, I think it’s exactly what I was hoping for.”
Turning away from the front window, he looked at Louis openly for maybe the first time since he’d had his hands on the hood of his car. Since that first startled moment of finding Louis in the parking lot right outside his wedding. Now, in the slow setting sun, his face was glowing orange and yellow, washed in pink. The green of his eyes were crisp and clear. When they were kids Louis had a marble that was almost the exact shade and he used to carry it in his pocket. It was probably still in his bedroom at his mom’s place, in the back of his sock drawer or lost beneath the radiator.
The words, the sincerity, left him for a loss of what to say. After a moment of staring at Harry’s face, cataloging the look in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks, the stubborn curl hanging over his forehead, Louis turned away.
The first cars were starting to inch forward onto the ferry and Louis slowly trailed after them, offering his ticket to the attendant and then parking tightly behind the car in front of him. He tried to take the Rockland Ferry as few times as he could in the summer. They ran infrequently and it was a hassle all around. If he was just heading to the mainland for groceries or supplies, he’d often take the mail boat as it was more convenient and didn’t take quite as long to cross.
When they were stopped, Louis rolled the windows down a crack and turned the car off. The music cut off with it and there was just silence between them. Louis pushed his car seat all the way back and reclined it slightly to be more comfortable. Leaning back, he cocked his head to look at Harry who was, for once, sat fully upright and alert. No longer the picture of perfect nonchalance he’d been the whole drive up.
“How long is it?”
“About an hour,” Louis said, lips falling into a smirk. “You won’t get seasick, right?”
Harry scoffed, “Of course not.”
“Right,” Louis agreed, but he had such a perfect image of Harry with his head in a bucket, the feeling of his cotton shirt under Louis’ hand as he rubbed his back still visceral in his memory. “Do you remember our fourth grade field trip where we took the ferry out on Casco Bay? You threw up for half of it and missed the whale, which was the only thing you’d talked about for a week leading up to it.”
“Well I didn’t until right now.” Harry finally flopped back in the seat just as the horn sounded and they started to move away from the dock. “Thanks for that.”
“No problem,” Louis said and then laughed lightly.
The sun set as the ferry crossed to Greater Blueberry. Through the cracked window, the wind whipped and stung at his ears. Underneath that was still the buzzing in Harry’s pocket, which only stopped when the service cut out. Then Harry pulled out the beeper and dropped it noisily into the empty cup holder with a satisfied smirk. The temperature dropped with the sun and around them was just open water. While usually Louis spent the ferry ride napping or puzzling out the New York Times crossword, this time he watched Harry watch the view.
True to his word, he didn’t get seasick, but he did sit up, mesmerized by the waves rolling past. As they cruised by islands, he asked which they were and Louis called them out by name: Hurricane Island, Vinalhaven, Hay Islands. He pointed out the Saddleback Lighthouse as they passed it, the light from it cutting through the car windows.
It was quiet, pleasant. Something the air between them hadn’t been in a very long time.
After they sailed past Little Blueberry, the ferry prepared to dock at Greater Blueberry. Louis inched his seat forward and adjusted it upright, turning the car on. It sputtered to life restlessly and Louis rubbed a hand over the dash when everything seemed to be working right. Service was spotty on the island, but he sent a text to his mom anyway to let her know the ferry had arrived.
His thumb hovered over the keys wondering if he should say something about Harry. Surely people were looking for him, worried about him. His pager had only stopped going off because they’d gone out of service and Harry hadn’t checked the messages at all.
But he watched Harry tug his suit jacket from the back, tuck his hands under the sleeves as they must have gotten cold, and couldn’t quite convince himself to rat him out.
Deboarding was slow, but they were finally on land again and Louis turned left out of the ferry terminal. The roads were dark with the sun gone, as the island had no streetlights. There was a small downtown area right by the ferry terminal: a general store, Cote’s Tavern, the seafood/ice cream shack, and the library, which functioned also as the town hall and a million other things throughout the summer.
Half the island was vacation rentals and then the other half was a mix of year round residents and seasonal ones, like him. His side of the island was mostly permanent residents, with a few rentals mixed in from when people had passed away or couldn’t handle the isolated winters any longer.
The road turned to gravel as they got closer to the end of the island and finally he turned down the dirt driveway. There was a worn wooden slatted fence running by the road and if it wasn’t for the gap in it, he’d have missed the drive completely.
“Really, Louis. Where are we?” Harry asked as they bumped down the road. The house was pretty close to the water, which meant they curved through a couple minutes worth of trees before breaking out to the star studded sea. “Oh.”
Louis parked as close to the house as he could, but there was still about fifteen feet of well marked dirt paths to walk down before you reached the house. It was cedar shake sided and situated high over the water with wooden stairs leading towards a rocky beach.
The first time he stood on the wraparound porch with the ocean churning below him, he felt his chest expand. Like it was the first breath of fresh air he’d taken in a long time. Maybe ever.
“This isn’t your house,” Harry said matter of factly.
Louis rolled his eyes. Sarcastically, he said, “Okay, if you insist,” before climbing out of the car. He pulled open the back and started grabbing what he could carry in one trip.
Harry was still sitting dumbfounded in the passenger seat even as Louis started towards the path. Over his shoulder he called, “Are you going to sit there and gawk all night or actually help?”
There was no need to turn back and look, the car door closing echoed loudly across the grass.
The cottage had no front door, per se. The whole side facing the ocean was covered in sliding glass doors. There were a couple along the back as well, facing the hill behind the house. It was there that Louis struggled in the dark to unlock it.
Back in the middle of October, when Louis had packed everything up and taken the ferry back to the mainland for the winter, he’d turned the power and water off. Which meant that arriving for the first time in the season in the dark was less than ideal. He dropped everything just inside the door and then fumbled on the key hook for where he’d left a flashlight.
Once it was arcing through the house, he moved towards the breaker box. A few days earlier he’d called the power company and they’d said they’d try to have everything on, but might not make it out until the morning.
“Louis?” Harry called from the doorway.
“Hold on!” He tripped over a rug in the living room, before reaching the panel, opening it up, and flipping all of them.
“There should be a light switch to your left on the wall, can you turn it on?”
There was a long pause and he imagined Harry’s hand rubbing over his blindly in the dark. “Nothings happening.”
Louis sighed and shut the panel. The morning it was then. Thankfully it wasn’t too cold, so they didn’t really need the heating on. “Guess it’s not on until tomorrow.”
He walked back towards the entrance, doing a quick cursory glance of the building with his flashlight to make sure nothing was amiss. He was always worried about water damage from leaks or a pipe bursting despite the water being off. Plus he usually got a rodent or two in the winter.
The cottage was pine from floor to ceiling and usually at night the warm light had the building feeling like it was glowing from the inside out. It was one of the things Louis had liked about it at first, that it felt like even with the dark sea outside, the biting ocean wind, you were standing in the middle of a hug.
In the dark it had an eeriness to it.
Harry was standing by the slider looking at him uneasily when he returned. There was a pile of the things Louis had brought in on the floor and one suitcase next to it, propped up and perfect that Harry had clearly carried.
“Let’s get the rest,” he said, bypassing him and back out into the salt heavy air. “And pull the door, the mosquitoes are killer up here.”
Certainly Harry muttered something unkind under his breath, but his annoyance had Louis smirking as he picked his way down the rough path towards the Bronco.
They carried the rest of the stuff in quickly, dropping them all in the living room. There was a candle on the center of the coffee table that he lit with the lighter in his pocket, the warm scent of vanilla filling the space. None of the decor had changed since the house had become his and while Louis didn’t care what it looked like, didn’t care what Harry thought about it, he was curious. And because he wondered, he acted like he didn’t.
Grabbing the food totes and the cooler, he carried them into the kitchen. From the cabinet over the microwave he grabbed a couple more candles, lighting them all on the kitchen counter and setting the room aglow. The kitchen opened up to a small dining area, divided by the kitchen peninsula, which was a dark slate countertop that was always cool to the touch. Between the living room and the kitchen was a small study where Louis carried his work bag - dropping it next to the computer- and a set of stairs to the loft.
By the time he’d made it back to the living room, after stopping back in the kitchen, Harry was standing in soft candle light by the glass doors looking out towards the water.
“Hey,” Louis said awkwardly. He was unsure what came next, what there was even between them to fill days in this small cottage, on this small island.
Harry turned to face him, something solemn hanging on his face. Like maybe the day had finally caught up to him, the wedding he ran from, the life he’d just left behind.
“Do you remember that New Year’s Eve party at Liam Payne’s parents’ lake house?” Louis asked with his hands behind his back, rocking forward on his feet.
Harry watched the movement, the sway like they were on a slowly rocking ship. It wasn’t until Louis’ heels hit the floor again that he spoke.
“Uh, yeah. Mostly anyway.”
The memory was a mess of cheap alcohol, loud music, and the sharp sting of the lake water when they’d jumped in at midnight. Everything after that was so hazy it felt like a dream even though he could recall every minute of it.
“So are you any better at handling your alcohol now?” From behind his back he pulled out a handle of vodka that had been in the pantry.
Harry’s whole face transformed at the sight of it. “Oh, thank God. Give me that.”
He held his hand out, making a grabby motion and Louis laughed as he handed it over. It was like a memory reaching out to him, that same look on his face that Harry had had at eighteen. Determined, tired. Like he was just on the cusp of doing something naughty. It was electric, it always had been. Somehow managing to always pull Louis along, from one look alone, like a dog on a leash. Addicted, delusional.
For some reason it struck him then that Harry had to have known, somehow, impossibly, that Louis was sitting in that parking lot.
Like everything was a domino falling in a line exactly how he meant for it to.
But still, he followed Harry back to the kitchen. Pulling slightly dusty glasses down from the cabinet, he turned around to see Harry had unscrewed the cap and was drinking right from the bottle.
“In a hurry?”
He raised a hand and flipped Louis off, eyes closed and lips still pursed around the bottle. Louis tracked the bob of his throat. When it finally lowered and his hand fell to his side, Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “I’ve had a shit day, let me live.”
A breathy laugh fell from his lips and then Harry handed him the vodka. Leaving the glasses on the counter, he opted to drink from the bottle too. The rim of it was still wet from Harry’s lips and Louis licked it off before taking a long pull.
They sat down at the dining table. The old gingham seat cushions were a little too flat, a little too faded, and needed replacing, but he hadn’t fussed with it. The more he drank, the less he noticed how uncomfortable they were. Harry didn’t seem to mind at all, slouched forward over the table, one arm bent on the top with his head resting on it, looking like he’d always belonged right there. Just glowing in the barest candle light, the dark nothingness of the sea behind him. Louis could picture the cliffs, the fall off, the water churning.
It looked how Harry had always felt to him.
Big and vast and like he’d get caught in a rip and drown.
They’d been talking about nothing to fill the gap between them - Niall and how his job in DC was going. How they were sure he was seeing someone and not telling them. The start up Liam Payne had founded, how Harry had no clue what they did no matter how many times Liam explained it to him. How grown Louis’ sisters were now, which Harry couldn’t believe. It had been years since he’d seen them.
And when that string of conversation ran dry and they’d barbed at each other over, “Well certainly you’d know better than me what’s up with Niall, right?” and “You don’t get what he’s doing? Shocker” and “A bit low brow to hang around with the Tomlinsons huh?” Harry’s cheeks had gone cherry red in a flush and his eyes were glassy from the alcohol.
Finally, he said, “I don’t think I ever loved Sam.”
“Oh,” Louis mumbled, pushing the half empty bottle back to Harry.
“You know our parents are friends? They wanted us together. So we were and when they said we should get married, we did.” Harry slouched back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The perfectly coiffed curls on his head were fully mussed now, frizzing and frayed at the edges. “I don’t think she ever loved me either. Most of the time I was certain she didn’t even really like me.”
That sank ugly through Louis’ body. It was something he couldn’t even properly understand. Even when he hated Harry Styles, he still liked him. Despite himself.
“I was prepared to laugh at you when you finally admitted what happened, but I don’t think I can now. That’s actually kinda sad.”
Tipping his head back to the ceiling, Harry did laugh. It was dry and sad, sending a shiver down Louis’ back. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
If there was one thing Louis would have said about Harry before this moment, it was that he was self-assured. That he did what he wanted, said what he wanted - all with conviction.
But when his eyes landed back on Louis, they were open, unsure.
Louis held the bottle of vodka between his hands. It was cool to the touch or maybe his skin was overheated from how much he’d had to drink.
Maybe that’s why he offered, “Just for tonight we could pretend, if you want, that I can stand you and you can pretend that we’re friends. We can talk it out, maybe it’ll help.”
His lips ticked up in a smile, just barely, and Harry extended his hand for them to shake on it. “Truce, then.”
They sat at the table turning from tipsy to drunk for a couple of hours. Harry talked about Sam and the life they had in New York City. The distance between them that he never really minded until it was about to become permanent. The heavy look in his eyes as he said again that he always knew he never loved her.
Louis didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say to any of it really. The longest relationship he’d ever had lasted for nine months and his feelings for Patrick were never more intense than how he felt about most of his friends. Nothing that was comparable to ten years wasted with someone he wasn’t even sure he liked.
“But was Aerosmith the final straw?” Louis asked, trying to break the tension, to snap the sad look on Harry’s face.
“It was something at least. My now or never moment, I guess. I turned to Liam and then walked out the way I’d come in.”
Harry spread his palms out on the table, like that was everything there was. Everything he had to offer. His head hung between his shoulder blades and he laughed, but there was no joy in it. No humor.
And when he looked up, he looked suddenly so tired. His fingers trembled when he reached for the near empty bottle, casting a long spooky shadow on the wall, before they missed entirely. Harry dropped his head to the table and groaned.
“I think I’m fucked.”
“Just sleep it off,” Louis suggested.
“Yeah, maybe,” Harry mumbled, like the drunkenness wasn’t entirely what he meant.
“I’ll get you set up on the couch.”
Harry rolled his head on the table to look at Louis. He was pretty in the candlelight, something Louis hadn’t allowed himself to think all night, but after the vodka and the long day he couldn’t stop himself.
“The guest room is fine.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “There’s only one bedroom.”
“Should be mine, since I’m the guest, don’t you think?”
Raising an eyebrow, Louis said, “It’s not like you were invited. You jumped into my car.”
“Well, I’m in emotional duress!” And it would have been more believable if the words hadn’t been slightly slurred and if his dimples weren’t curving deeply into his face.
“You don’t seem to be,” Louis teased, but Harry’s face dropped to an exaggerated pout. “How about this, Bee Sting? I’ll be generous and let you sleep on one side of the bed. Hm?”
“So kind of you, Lou, really,” Harry said dripping with sarcasm, but he stood up from his chair, taking the flashlight Louis had left at the end of it, and wandered towards the stairs. Louis followed after him, grabbing the last two suitcases he’d left at the bottom of the door. The linens for the bed were inside of one of them.
“This isn’t what I thought your room would look like,” Harry called from his bedroom, a light glowing down from around the corner. Then he reappeared at the top of the stairs. “There’s no blankets.”
“Got them in my bag, don’t I?” Louis muttered, exasperated.
Harry sighed and walked back into the room just as Louis crested the stairs. There was a good sized bathroom upstairs just off the bedroom, which is where Harry was poking around when he made it to the top.
The whole loft smelled a bit musty and he’d have to open the windows in the morning to air it out, but for now he tossed one of the suitcases on the king sized bed and unzipped it. From inside he pulled out a set of sheets.
“H-,” Louis said, stumbling over the nickname before catching himself. “Honeybee, the bee sting, can you grab the tote by the door? I think the duvet is in there.”
“I hate that fucking nickname,” Harry grumbled before he stomped down the stairs.
“Blow out the candles while you’re down there!” Louis called after him.
There was the distant sound of Harry muttering that Louis ignored while he made the bed. He was just straightening out the top sheet when Harry dropped the duvet at the foot of it.
“Can I use your toothbrush?” he asked, but bent to start rooting through Louis’ suitcase.
“Uh, no?”
But Harry was already up and walking towards the bathroom, surely with it in hand.
“That’s disgusting,” Louis called after him, although he didn’t make any real effort to stop him. Maybe it was his alcohol studded brain, but he was working to convince himself it was fine because it’ll be clean by the end of it. Right?
After straightening out the duvet and pulling the pillows out of the linen closet, he went into the bathroom. His toothbrush wasn’t the only thing Harry stole, as he was now wearing a pair of Louis’ gym shorts and a ratty Cape Elizabeth High School t-shirt. The maroon of it was faded in splotches and the gold lettering half peeled off. It was the softest thing he owned and Harry commandeering that was the first thing to actually bother him all night.
“You can have the toothbrush, but not the shirt. Give it,” Louis said, crossing his arms and glaring at Harry through the mirror.
Harry paused, toothpaste foaming on his lips and a wide look in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say, “what?” but all that came out was a dribble of foam.
“The shirt, give it here.” Louis stuck his hand out and bent his fingers forward a couple times. “Come on.”
Harry spit in the sink and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand leaving a streak of white that he ignored. “You’re being ridiculous.”
Still, he tugged off the shirt and threw it back at Louis, who barely caught it, distracted by all the skin revealed. Maybe it would have been better to let him wear it. The shirt was still gripped in his hand when Harry left the bathroom, his wedding suit pooled on the floor by the tub still.
Louis brushed his teeth quickly, trying not to think how Harry’s teeth were on the same bristles just minutes before, then changed into the shirt Harry had taken off. He walked back into the bedroom to see Harry already tucked under the covers and facing the middle of the bed.
When he offered his bed to share, Louis hadn’t really considered the implication of it. He tried not to think about it now as he got under the blanket. The flashlight was end up on his bedside table and he clicked it off, leaving them in the dark.
It was quiet between them, just the sound of their breathing in the dark, the sheets rustling, and the distant sound of the ocean through the closed windows.
Through the silence, Harry spoke quietly. “Hey, Lou?”
The nickname cut him a little too harshly. “Yeah?”
“We’re still friends for right now, right?”
Louis closed his eyes. “Sure, Harry.”
“Okay.” The sheets rustled and the bed shifted. “Can I have a cuddle?”
A sigh fell from Louis’ lips, but he dropped his arm out, spreading it into the space between them. A moment later Harry’s weight settled onto it and then he shifted until his head was on Louis’ chest. He was warm, his head smelling like hairspray and something fruity, and then his arm slipped on top of the sheet and over Louis’ abdomen.
Cuddling Harry Styles was not how he expected the day to end.
“You smell different than you used to,” Harry whispered.
Louis closed his eyes against the words. The implication of them. The memory they held.
“I thought we agreed never to speak of that.”
When Harry laughed, it sounded wet. “Just this once, it’s fine.”
Carefully, Louis ran a hand through Harry’s curls like he had done to an eighteen year old Harry who had laid in the same position.
“I think that was the last time I saw you.” The words sounded sad even to his own ears, although he never would have admitted that.
“Not for me,” Harry said after a beat. “A couple of years ago now, it was my engagement party. I stepped outside for some fresh air, walked up half a block and saw you right there on the street.”
“Where was this?” Louis asked, staring down at the curve of Harry’s nose, barely lit in the moonlight.
“We were in the Regency Hotel’s ballroom, I think you were coming out of Oasis. You stopped for a smoke and I was going to say something to you. I thought it would make the whole day feel more normal or something. I can still picture the clothes you were wearing, the way your hair was styled.”
Harry paused and Louis closed his eyes, trying to remember, but he couldn’t. Just any other night drunk in the Old Port, slipping over cobblestone streets when he’d had too much to drink. He didn’t even remember when Harry’s engagement was announced.
Harry continued, “But before I could move, some guy came out after you. I watched you laugh together and leave, walking down the other way. It felt like a sign, at the time.”
If he hadn’t had so much to drink, if the day hadn’t been so emotional, Louis had to wonder if Harry would have admitted any of this to him.
“What kind of sign?”
“That I should move on with my life, finally. That I should marry Samantha and forget about you.”
The words hung between them for a long moment, something unidentifiable swirling in his stomach.
When he spoke, the words were soft. “You forgot about me a long time ago, honeybee.”
“No,” Harry whispered, tightening his arm around Louis’ waist. “It was just easier to act that way.”
He wasn’t sure what to say and minutes later he could tell Harry had fallen asleep. It took him much longer to follow, staring up at the ceiling for too long thinking about the last decade or so of his life and wondering when everything tilted slightly wrong.