Slash! none of that hetero crap.

it happens really quite quickly- but then not quite rushed and it just kind of happens and neither are actually very sure how it does—

well.

they kind of are because harry had been a pretentious asshole and decided to show off in his english lit class. fifth period. he hated fifth period. and louis had been busy at the back of the art room staring down his painting because is that really the right shade of maroon?

 harry slumped over his backpack miserably and louis suddenly decided he wanted a chat-

so it happened. and god, harry has never been so grateful to get a detention in his life.

*

“hey harry, you know, I’m kind of bored of pretending I need to stay behind after art. and you seriously need to stop being a little shit to Mr.Lake just to get a detention so—”

“so, maybe we should go out this weekend or something?” Harry would glint up with a smile.

and, “yeah.” louis smudged around his canvas, peeked under his fringe and “yeah, that’d be nice.”

*

harry’s younger and he feels awfully child-like with louis when off the school grounds.

and when louis would pause outside the pulsing club on their first weekend out he’d raise his eyebrow. harry would coy away and shit, he’s cute.

“don’t say you’ve forgotten your ID?”

harry gulped and yeah…yeah, now he feels stupid.

*

louis should probably feel sick because his lottie is sixteen too and he wouldn’t want her out with some random boy three years his senior-

but harry has these dimples and that filthy laugh and oh so fucking green eyes. louis decides yeah, sixteen. sixteen, he can deal with that.

*

“m’confused” louis muttered. hands are dug deeply in his pockets because it’s february and it’s england and he’s a gentleman walking harry home from a date that wasn’t a date. they’re mates. ”you’re in year eleven…but you’re on the sixthform football team?”

harry hadn’t even meant for his smile to be smug or his eyes to be so teasing when he glanced up at louis but well. “how’d you know I was on the sixthform team?”

and shit because he’d been caught wandering outside football practice one too many times apparently. (harry doesn’t buy the “let’s be honest…it’s a small school, I was going to cross paths with you while out the art room at some point.” the blush to his cheeks overtakes the shrug)

*

and harry’s only known louis for a month or two (well, one month, three weeks and eleven days. he totally only knows that because of the detention slip)  and he feels sick because Oh.

he knew nothing and now he’s so certain of everything and that’s a terrifying thought because it’s so sudden and—

—and he really should be thinking about the pasty blue of Lauren Nelson’s eyes because she’s meant to be well fit. but the eyes are bright and blinking and so utterly beautiful and belong to louis tomlinson, second year sixthform.

*

it’s march and it’s not a friday (because friday happens to be their day and it has been ever since that first weekend out- and that just happened, too.) but harry appears in front of louis.

louis, his usual fluffy hair gelled back and yeah, he has eyeliner on (he was totally forced into the make up, he’ll gush afterwards). harry’s grinning and louis’ breathless (and that is totally because of the performance)

harry pulls out the bunch of flowers, the stems a little bent and they may be a slight bit limp but. but louis’ beaming through his blush and harry’s cheeks are pink too.

“you were in the audience? why didn’t y-“

“best danny zuko i’ve ever seen.” harry’s smile is coy and the flowers slip into louis’ hands.

and—

and harry pecks at louis’ cheek and wow, okay then.

they’re both silent and harry’s eyes are wide because sure, he’s kissed niall’s cheek jokingly but not withthat feeling in his belly.

however, louis’ smile practically bursts the quiet. he pets at the flowers once before his fingers wrap around harry’s wrist and he’s yanking harry backstage.

“you got me flowers.” he coo’s in his hurry.

if any of the cast want to say anything about the beam on louis’ face- they don’t. hannah’s eyes are all knowing though, she sends lou a wink.

*

louis manages to drape himself completely over harry on the park bench whilst introducing him to zayn at the same time.

“i’d shake your hand, mate.” harry chuckles. “but louis happens to have trapped my hand inbetween his ass and the bench.”

“I have a fabulous ass.” louis says— smirk on his lips. “you love it.”

“you know I do, babe.” harry’s always been a bit of a flirt but harry’s never felt so choked up when it came to harmless flirting.

zayn says nothing. zayn just nods along but there’s that wicked grin on his lips and harry briefly remembers when louis had said “zayn knows me more than I do.”

*

“curly?” louis hums from where he’s slouched over him in the, practically empty, movie theatre.

“mm?” he’s got half a hand full - and his hands are a bit huge - of popcorn crushed in his gob.

“do you think people who live in swamps could have a pet crocodile?”

harry hums thoughtfully. “perhaps.” he chews. “if they were complete nutters.”

“think i’d want a pet croc if i had a swamp.” his eyes dart to the snorting boy. “don’t worry babes, i wouldn’t let him hurt your pretty little head.”

harry is ridiculously grateful for the darkness, his cheeks burning.

*

it’s thursday when things seem to slip from harry’s grasp.

ben, his cousin (his mum’s sister’s son), comes out as gay to the whole family.

his mother, his sister, his dad and himself leave his families home early.

harry’s father may have been disgusted with ben- but that was nothing compared to the ill feeling in harry’s stomach.

*

“fucking faggot of a nephew.” he spat.

“des, stop it.” anne whispers.

“a puff, a fucking puff.” he says.

“gay boy.”

“prick.”

“disgusting.”

Disgusting.

harry’s tears stain the grey of his pillow.

*

it’s friday.

and louis’ standing in the art room. he’s alone.

he waits.

and, he waits.

harry doesn’t answer his texts nor does he return his phone calls.

and harry doesn’t turn up to their consistent friday meeting place.

*

louis doesn’t even know the blonde boys name. he just knows it’s harry’s friend.

he quickly steps in front of him one tuesday when passing through a corridor. the boy blinks up at him, completely unphased.

“you’re harry’s friend, right?”

the boy, who he later knows as niall, rolls his eyes with a snort. “what’s the bloody jock done now? snogged your sister or something?” irish.

louis’ mouth is a little dry and his tongue is heavy in his mouth and he- he-what “wha- he’s okay, yeah? in school and everything and shit?”

slightly bewildered now, the boy blinks once, twice—three times. “uh…yeah, why wouldn’t he be?”

louis walks away.

*

harry’s avoiding him and louis knows it and he knows it. diving into the bathrooms just so he doesn’t have to bump into him in the corridor is a little pathetic but.

*

louis’ music exam is in a month today and he’s sung Sonny and Cher’s ‘the beat goes on’ so many times the past hour that he’s not sure he could speak anything else.

but he’s sitting on the top of the school’s piano and. and a mop of curly hair.

the teacher yells after him but the boy’s already burst out the studio door and out into the corridor.

“haz?” his voice comes out as an unintended croak and the unused nickname slips out perfectly.

the boy, torso too long for his thin - but still very long - legs, turns. he readjusts his blazer and there’s a crease to his brow because haz and that fucking soft voice.

“hi.” louis licks at his lips, he’s nervous. why is he nervous?

“hello.” harry’s smile is slight.

*

that same day and they arrange to meet in the art room - where louis spends most of his school days and where they first met - harry gets there first. makes sure he does. guilt looming.

he never has had an interest in art but he finds his eyes scrolling across the walls and. louis tomlinson - sixthform - target a, a levels. oh so suddenly, harry’s eyes are zoning in and washing away the startling colours of a scene that doesn’t make sense in his-

“harry.” a small whisper sends him spinning.

his hands clench up but shoulders drop and he has the small of a clumsy smile on his pink lips. “hey lou”

louis gives the room a once over before craning his neck and letting his eyebrows knit together. “can you explain?”

harry dips his head. “wel- I-” he pauses. “soon.” his voice is hoarse and he’s blinking upwards.

slowly but surely, louis nods. he nods for a few quiet moments. “okay.” he replies and he’s crashing into harry, arms flailing, and they lock in a tight embrace.

*

“have you and lou fucked yet?”

harry chokes, breathing coming jaggered as he splutters around his pepsi. zayn doesn’t react.

“zayn!” he cries.

“he clearly digs you and he doesn’t take interest in people that way very easily.”

“m’straight.” harry mutters, and then “besides, lou ain’t into me that way.”

“if louis isn’t in to you then i’m having a fling with old queen liz.”

*

“so, i was thinking.”

it’s friday - their day - and as jobless teenagers they are both a little poor so they take to the park. (a place they’ve spent countless friday’s)

“don’t hurt yourself, lou.”

the blue eyed boy pulls a face before taking a long drag of his starbucks and continuing. harry’s grin doesn’t falter- until, it does.

“mums having a party on sunday at ours.” he says. “wanna come?”

harry gives his curls a shake, pulling his fringe to the side and his lip purse a little. there’s a slight lump to his throat, adams apple bobs. “family party?”

“no, curly.” his eyes sharpen. “my mum is throwing a party for the whole of holmes chapel, supplying booze and drugs for the small population of this village.” he pauses. “yes, a family party! m’twin sisters birthdays.”

harry gulps.

*

he’s had plenty of girlfriends, harry has. he’s had more than niall and chris. he’s had more than jake and luke put together.

harry likes girls.

his girlfriends, many of them, have had never ending legs and curves in all the right places and just fucking hell- no guy he knows would give any of them up—

but harry—

harry likes

no.

harry doesn’t like that because. because harry isn’t gay and he doesn’t like louis that way. he won’t, he doesn’t, he can’t.

expect, he does.

*

“you like him, don’t you?” zayn flicks at louis’ nose, readjusting his legs a little just to make sure he’s got his friends attention. the older boy’s head resting on his thighs.

louis peeks one eye open to squint at his friend before shutting them once more. and that’s totally because he wants to rest before the house is packed full of squeals as the guests arrive for the party. nothing to do with not wanting to look at zayn.

“me and harry are friends.”

“what makes you think I was talking about harry?”

now, louis opens both eyes.

*

harry’s palms are itching and his breathing is coming in sudden jolts and niall’s sending him weird looks and fuck, why is he so scared? the blonde boy is grinning because why shouldn’t he? he holds two boxes, wrapped perfectly by harry, and taps at the door just three times.

*

“BOO BEAR!” jay yells over the pounding of youthful music and squealing girls.

“mum!”

“boo bear?”

“shuddup, harry.”

“aww…booooo beaaaar.”

*

harry’s knelt down in front of daisy, locked in conversation, and it’s so sickeningly sweet that louis just can’t. he’s complimenting the seven year olds hair and for real harry, stop it because louis wants to scream.

*

“daise, m’gonna have to borrow harry for just a minute?” louis’ voice is gentle- not sure how he manages that because God, they were talking for ages.

he ruffles at her blonde locks, and yeah she shrieks, but his fingers have wrapped lowly around harry’s wrist. harry’s confused but blissfully smiling and could that boy look less pleased for crying out loud? louis drags him upstairs.

“alright, lou babe?” harry’s tone is soft when the older boy slams a bedroom door shut.

and it’s then that harry takes a few minutes to glance around the new found room - louis’ bedroom - there’s a smile on his lips. dark blue walls, painted messily and there’s a few random posters here and there (the fray being one of them) and the blu-tac is pealing. there’s clothes everywhere and seriously, what is the point in having a wardrobe? stacks of cds, dvds and pictures. pictures of-

harry doesn’t get to look too much at the pictures because suddenly, all too suddenly louis’ voice is shattering through the room.

it happens so fast, so fucking fast, but so did their friendship, relationship, bond…it was all so quick but so wonderful and-

“harry,” louis’ voice shakes a little. “can i kiss you?”

everything seems to freeze for a small while but louis’ breathing heavily and harry’s heart is beating out of his fucking chest—

and he’s turning on his heels.

louis looks so small, eyebrows dug together and his mouth wavering slightly and his eyes. so big and wide and wow. louis looks scared. so scared.

harry’s swallows. and, “yeah.” he says. “yeah, okay.” soft smile.

for something that was confronted so, so fast- it begins so, so very slow. louis taking baby steps, wary steps, gentle steps forward.

lean fingers ghost over harry’s jaw line and a heavy, smiling, breath shivers between them. eyelashes flutter and whisper and then,

lips brush gentle and tender and grinning and laughing and fingers curl into harry’s hair tight with shaking long fingers firm on louis’ waist.

harry chuckles into louis’ mouth, forcing a bubbly giggle to shudder through louis’ shoulders.

“can i-” louis’ pauses. “kiss you again, maybe?”

harry connects their lips once more.

*

harry’s gleaming on monday morning and niall is shooting him the strangest of looks because harry is not a morning, nor a monday, type of guy. niall still distinctly remembers the nosebleed one morning when he had to drag a not so sunny harry out of bed for school. harry felt completely justified when his own fist flew and collided with niall’s face. waking him up at half seven, prick.

“y’know what,” the irish lad yawns. “i totally don’t find it fair that you could have basically any girl in our form and a lot of the girls in our year and you’re not interested in any of em. teach me your ways!”

harry clears his throat, eyes graze over the school building they approach. “i couldn’t have any of them, stupid! an what makes you think i, er, wouldn’t be interested?”

niall rolls his eyes and sure, he loves the lad but it kind of makes harry want to knock him out.

“you’re clearly head over heels for sixthform boy.”

“louis.” harry corrects sternly.

“i know, just emphasising the fact that he is in sixthform.”

“and! i am not-“

“if that line ends in ‘not head over heels’ don’t finish it.”

“-but”

“and, if that’s ‘not gay’, shut up.”

“he’s-“

“shut up, harry.” niall flashes his crooked teeth and nothing more is said.

*

“but zayny babe, you don’t understand.” louis whines, hands over his face and laid across one of the business tables. his friend looks up but only to smack at louis’ ankle and remove his foot from his coursework.

“he’s so perfect!” louis cries, flailing and dramatic and if he wasn’t so cute zayn would throttle him.

“so write him a song, paint him a picture, make love to him all night long but remove your fucking body from my work. i am actually trying to make progress here.”

louis lifts his head, eyes sharpening and he sends zayn as strong of a glare as he can. “thank you for being so understand, petal.”

*

sometimes, louis takes zayn’s advice because why not.

*

the brush sways across the white canvas gently but ends with, flicking, twirling strokes. louis’ eyebrows are pulled tightly together, his tongue peeks out in concentration. he won’t stand for anything other than perfect- not when it comes to those curls, so he’s as steady as can be.

the tip of his thumb smudges around the moist paint slightly and there’s a touch of a smile on his lips. he’s not one to paint portraits but he’s feeling it today so he does. this particular portrait is an exception anyway. not that he’d ever let the person see it. hello, embarrassing.

the eyes are difficult because green. what green? lime, pigment, kelly, moss, jade, jungle, sea, pine? so many greens that aren’t quite and are too much but not enough because the colour of those fucking eyes is hard to place.

louis mixes the paints swiftly, smoothly, and lets himself melt into the colours and wash of a brush.

*

harry’s so glad that p.e is his last two lessons because (“it’s a game, not a fucking championship” ashley scolds him.) it doesn’t half make him sweat. bag slung over his shoulder, football boots clunking together and liam jabbering away about something or another at his side. harry runs his fingers through his - kind of disgustingly damp - hair.

“haz” a voice breathes softly and he’s kind of not sure how he managed to hear it but he does and his head flicks up.

“lou!”

liam and stan stare at the pair (neither of them aware that louis and harry actually knew each other, like how? sixthform and year elevens don’t tend to mix)

“uhm, i-” harry’s grinning like an absolute idiot but louis’ doing the same so it’s okay.

“i got to-” there’s a giggle to louis’ tone and stan’s eyebrows are practically brimming on his hair line.

“i’ll see you around?” the curly haired boys eyes are crinkly and god, louis wants to kiss him. in fact, the last time he saw him, he did.

“yeah!” it might be a bit over enthusiastic and neither are that sure why everything suddenly seems so exciting but that’s alright. “yeah, friday still?”

“always.” harry shoots him a wink before backing away with a small wave.

but when he turns back, biting down his smile, to liam with those judgy little eyes- harry’s stomach drops.

*

harry’s basically a bit of a jock and whether he chooses to admit it or not he does have girls falling around him. and louis’ nothing but the performing arts pride and joy and works part time at the local swimming pool.

they shouldn’t go so well together but they kind of do and that’s a nice feeling.

*

it’s friday (their day) and they’re going the park (the top hill to the far left, kind of cliché but kind of their place too). it’s a little later than usual because harry actually screwed up and ended up on another detention - held in the canteen rather than the art rooms. but, louis waited.

it’s chilly and they’re tightly bundled together and louis’ hand is brushing harry’s wrist an awful lot. somehow down the line his fingers are wrapped around that wrist and he’s squeezing softly.

-

“was gonna ask if you wanted to come to mine.” louis’ mutters, fingers combing harry’s curls. “but i left my house keys in the office at work yesterday and everyone’s gone to doncaster…”

harry sits up, a glint of something in his eyes, “so what’re you gonna do?”

“go to me nan’s, i guess. or stans. i dunno.”

“why not just go pick ‘em up now?”

louis’ chewing on his bottom lip. “come with me?”

“‘course.” he smiles, letting louis’ pull him to his feet. he doesn’t let go of his hand.

*

the smell of chlorine hits harry the minute louis unlocks the pool door. it’s boiling but louis seems completely unphased.

“won’t be a sec, dear.” louis grins, squeezing his hand once more before jogging off into the office. lou leaves harry just for a moment - a moment - of riffling through his desk. he snatches up the keys with a relieved sigh and then comes the splash.

the splash. and louis pauses for a second, eyes shut and deep breath taken. with slow steps, he trudges back out into the open pool area and glares.

bastard.

“i fell in.” harry’s grin is blinding, the smug twat, floating smack bang in the middle of the pool. his clothes disposed and folded neatly in the corner.

and oh god, oh god, oh god. louis shouldn’t do this. he’ll get fired if he’s caught.

louis slips off his shoes and strolls around the edge. “you fell in?” he cocks an eyebrow.

harry nods slowly, beads of water dripping from his curls. and fucking. hell. he’s stunning.

“well, you look like a fucking baby tarzan.”

“aren’t you gonna get in?” harry pouts, arms swaying gently at his sides.

louis has every intention of diving in but he also has every intention of devouring that green eyed little shit.

“no.”

“but, you’re a lifeguard.”

“and, you can swim perfectly fine.”

of course.

suddenly, harry’s gone. dipped straight under the water, legs kicking out in all direction and his arms flailing. “louis!” he screams, head popping up for just a second before vanishing under once more. “cramp!” he gasps, voice blubbered by a gobful of water. “help, louis!” and then he’s disappeared again.

but then, harry’s not coming back up. it’s not that louis’ panicking…he knows he’s fine…he’s just-

pulling his top over his head swiftly and perfectly diving straight in the pool. his strokes are fast and sharp and soon enough he’s collided with a torso (and shit, he’s toned!). louis arms are tight around his chest and he’s pushing himself and harry to the surface of the water.

there’s a sharp exhale but then that filthy laugh echoes through the basically silent building and his legs wrap around louis’ waist. louis shoves harry by his shoulders, slamming him against the side. harry shudders but his eyes are huge and wide and he’s staring at louis as if he’s the only thing in this fucking world and

“god, you’re a prick.” louis mutters, hands still tight on harry’s shoulders and water dripping onto his fingers after leaving the boys curls. “absolute bastard.” he sighs.

“my hero!” harry cries blissfully, the smirk still playing on his lips. his arms slide around louis’ neck and that relaxes the other a little.

louis’ hands lower to harry’s thighs and he keeps a grip on him there, floating more so to the middle of the pool. liquid trails down harry’s nose and falls to his lips and he looks so fucking innocent at that moment that louis just wants to scream a little.

“so, harry styles, baby tarzan who could possibly be the reason that i get my ass kicked if there’s any security still in this building, did you know it’s our anniversary?”

harry’s eyebrows raise a little and there’s a slight amount of awe in his curved lips. “five months since i first met you.”

louis’ rocking them a little gently and harry’s grip tightens around his neck.

“mhmm.” he smiles. “five months since you got that detention, cute.”

“cute, indeed.” and their noses are pressing together gently, breathing hot. they stay like that for a small while, harry’s eyes dropping shut. “louis tomlinson, boo bear…do you want to know something?”

“mhm.”

“you kind of terrify me.” and it’s so honest and gentle and just about whispered that louis has to steady himself for a moment to keep harry above the water.

“yeah?” he mumbles. “well, you kind of terrify me too, curly.”

*

the minute louis opens the front door he’s straight to the hall mirror. “ugh, my hair” he groans. “just had to get in the mother-fucking pool, didn’t you?”

harry steps inside, hands brushing louis’ waist. “stop whining you vain twat. you look as gorgeous as always.” and he rolls his eyes. maybe he doesn’t realise what he’s said or maybe he does, but their…friendship isn’t established at that moment so whatever.

louis turns on his heels, eyes questioning but soft and his fingers fiddle with the button of harry’s shirt. his smile is delicate. “can’t figure you out, y’know..”

harry’s voice is low, husky and fuck, “then stop trying.” he whispers, hands wrap around louis’ fingers. “just, go with it.”

a shuddering breath and louis’ dampening his lips. nimble hands slowly undoing harry’s school shirt, blue never leaving green. louis’ steps are slow but long and it’s not too long before his hips are against harry’s and he’s questioning a quiet “yeah?”

*

it’s hot and fast and louis’ back is smacking against his bedroom door, he shoves it open. harry’s fastened against his chest, fingers tangled in hair. harry’s mouth plasters every ounce of louis’ face and neck he can get to. and louis’ leading him back towards his bed. panting.

harry falls back against the mattress, pulling louis by the hair to meet his lips once more. but louis has other plans, mouth against harry’s earlobe and fingers scraping down his bare mid-drift and hands settling against his belt buckle.

panic.

“louis” harry whispers, voice harsh.

but louis doesn’t reply, teeth nipping at harry’s jaw and hips grinding low.

“louis.” harry’s tone becomes desperate, hands pushing gently at louis’ chest. this time, the boy does react. his eyes incredibly wide, he hovers over harry to see his expression.

“okay?” louis’ usual light voice is low and fucking hell. yeah. harry does want this.

but all too suddenly, he feels like crying. tips of harry’s ears burn to the surface and his cheeks becoming a darker shade than they once were.

“i-i’ve- just-” harry’s bottom lip is trembling and he can’t even look at louis in his ridiculously gorgeous eyes. harry’s head falls left only to be caught in louis’ palm and pushed forward.

“haz.” he whispers, moving back a little. “we don’t have to…i mean, if you-“

“no!” harry’s voice is urgent. “want to, want to so bad.” and he’s pulling at louis’ collar and pushing their lips together once more. louis hands move to the small of harry’s back, sitting him up a little. “i’ve just- i’ve never…”

louis gulps. “never?“

“with a boy.” harry ducks his head a little. “oh god, i’ve ruined it now, haven’t i- sorry- i just wanted you to know because i- oh god.”

a small smile plays at his lips and louis’ cupping harry’s cheeks softly. “it’s okay.” he promises, nose brushing harry’s and the boy’s head lowers even further, sniffling slightly. it’s purely from embarrassment that harry’s bottom lip trembles. “ no, baby!” louis cries. “no need to get upset, haz, look at me.” and, he does. “it’s okay. it doesn’t matter to me.”

harry itches the back of his neck and fuck, this is embarrassing.

“nice and slow, yeah?” louis’ bottom lip drags up harry’s cheek, the boy nods. “gonna make you feel so good.” he swears, pulling his fingers through harry’s hanging curls.

and, louis does. he’s so delicate, so loving, peppering kisses everywhere his lips can reach. his fingers laced with harry’s and making sure he’s comfortable all the time, hitching breath and rocking, small whispers into each others skin.

-

“so beautiful.” louis whispers into harry’s neck. the younger of the two zoned out and shivering in delight and relief. “you’re so fucking beautiful, harry.”

louis’ thrown the condom into his bedside bin and slowly slips next to harry, pulling the covers over them. harry curls himself against louis’ chest and a slow smile like honeycomb melts against the boys pink lips.

“okay?” louis’ mouth buried in the boys sweaty curls.

“amazing.” he trails his fingers up louis’ bare side. “m’glad it was with you.” his eyes gaze up and head pulls back a little to smile at louis. his feet brusing against louis’ ankles.

“harry..” louis’ voice is gentle like almost everything about the moment. the pad of his thumb brushes across harry’s cheek. “want you- want you to-…mine.”

the curly haired boy chews on his bottom lip, green glinting up. “yours.” his arm snakes smoothly around louis’ waist and shuffles up, their foreheads pressed together. breathing becomes heavy and sleepy and gorgeous.

“mine.”

“yes.”

wrapped up in each others arms, they dream.

*

louis wakes up in a gentle daze with soft limbs tangled with his own and everything is just warm. a small groan escapes his lips as he stretched as gently as possible. he presses a small kiss to harry’s forehead before delicately slipping out of his grasp and padding out of the room.

*

“wakey, wakey sunshine!” louis’ calls - no, screeches as he enters the bedroom, tray in hand.

the boy curled up mutters something inaudible before making an attempt to flip louis off and roll over. however, he flinches a little during the turn and then seizes. yup. louis remembers his first time and it hurts like a bitch in the morning. however, louis’ first wasn’t quite as careful as himself.

wincing, louis’ shoves the crap off his bedside table and steadies the breakfast tray there. he slips into the bed and shuffles closer to harry, quickly taking the role of the big spoon, the taller boy soon snuggling closer into him.

“how badly does it hurt?”

harry shrugs, eyes still heavy and he links his fingers with louis’. “not that bad.” his voice is hoarse and he presses his lips to louis’ knuckles.

“can i get you anything?”

he shakes his head and rolls over slowly. “just you.” he murmurs, nuzzling against louis’ neck.

and, the breakfast (burnt toast, juice and cereal) goes to waste because cuddling with louis is much more appetising.

*

rather quickly, friday isn’t just their day. any day is an opportunity for a day together and niall is seeing louis around a lot more often, so often that they exchange numbers (and vice versa with stan, liam, zayn and harry)

louis walking harry home isn’t exactly a rare thing nowadays (to the garden gate, never any further. when anne asks, louis is a new friend.)

 *

liam is the first person harry ever ‘admits’ anything to. and, it should feel like a massive step but it doesn’t. he should feel a little ill but he doesn’t.

“hazza…are you going out with that louis boy or?”

harry just shrugs, swings his football boots over his back and ”i’m just his.”

*

“thank you, mrs.tomlinson…dinner was lovely.”

“harry, love, i’ve told you to call me jay!”

“oh, right…um, okay, thank you again mrs t- jay”

“you’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

*

louis’ head rests against harry’s bare chest and the tip of his nail slowly runs along the skin, trailing gently and brushing softly. harry’s hand, so much larger than louis’, overlaps louis’ dainty little fingers.

soon enough they’re entwined, legs, fingers, thoughts, lives.

“hazza” louis whispers, breath tickling at harry’s stomach a little. “is there a reason why you’ve never introduced me to your mum, or?” it’s quiet and gentle and louis’ purely just curious. if he wasn’t so transfixed in the way harry’s fingers curled around his own, he might’ve noticed the small breath hitch.

“you can meet her on wednesday  after school.” is all harry says and he feels louis’ mouth curve into a smile as the older boy presses a lingering kiss to harry’s rib cage,

*

harry’s father works late wednesday afternoon until midnight, has done for years.

*

by the time wednesday comes, harry feels sick. niall’s not even walking home because he’s gone out with liam (who’s trying to set up the blonde lad with one of danielle’s mates but you dare tell him and i’ll feed your footie boots to my dog, it’s a secret)

harry shouldn’t dread louis turning up at the art room at the end of the day.

louis walks in.

all harry feels is dread.

*

louis had been rambling on the whole way home about about some ginger kid who insists on cannonballing into the swimming pool every time he’s on watch. at least, it makes harry giggle a little bit and that’s nice. louis likes harry’s giggle- a honey smoothed little chuckle.

“hazza?” louis’ pitch drops a little, knocking their hands together eyelashes shadowing his cheeks. “do you think she’ll like me- your, your mum?”

it takes everything that harry has to keep his expression steady. what is he supposed to say? ‘sorry lou, i dunno babe, she reckons you’re a new mate from the football team’ no.

harry swallows and lifts his head. he is not a coward. he bumps their fingers together lightly- but this time, he holds on. his index finger wraps gently around louis’ and he nestles a little closer to his side.

“of course.”

*

harry’s hand reaches out to the door handle. louis’ shifting his weight from foot to foot, giddy and grinning behind him. a deep breath released from his chest, harry opens the door with squinted eyes.

one hand still on the handle to the open hall way, harry spins on his heels. “best behaviour.” he warns with a slight smile.

“excuse me, darling. charming is my middle name.”

rolling his eyes, a nervous smile on his lips- harry leads louis inside.

as soon as they enter the living room, harry freezes. stone dead. he’s frozen. louis’ grin is startling, bright and just warm towards the woman leaning over the newspaper, cup of coffee to hand. her long black hair flows down her back and she looks up at her son with a questioning smile.

licking his lips, harry’s mouth opens a little- but no words form. his chest heaves and oh god, oh god, oh god he’s going to be sick.

“harry?” anne says lightly, leaning forward and placing her pen on the table lightly. “who’s your friend?”

there’s a small furrow to louis’ brow and his smile drops just an inch. slowly, he turns his head to his boyfriend. surely harry’s mother knew he was coming- surely harry’s mum knows who he is?

a slight slump in his throat, louis breathes out “haz?”

blinking, harry doesn’t turn to his boyfriend. instead he just looks his mum straight in her wary eyes and stiffens his upper lip. harry’s hand comes out to gently clasp around louis’ smaller one and he croaks “this is louis, mum.” his breathing shakes but crooked smile reaches his mouth. “he’s really important to me…”

her eyes focus in on their clasped hands.

*

“lou, if you just go upstairs a minute- my room’s the second on the left. we’ll watch a film or something before you go, i’m just gonna finish up here.” harry’s tone is still a little quiet but he gives a gracious little nod. louis smiles.

coyly, “thank you for having me, anne. it was lovely to meet you.”

“and you, dear!”

chewing on his bottom lip to bite back the blaring grin, louis pads out the room and straight up the stairs. exhaling, harry turns on his heels to face his mother- who’s expression is a little blank and head tilted.

“so, this is you?” her voice is soft, her hand gesturing upstairs.

and warily, “this is me- well, ah- i- just louis.” his forehead crinkles. “i really, really like him…”

a deep breath stored in her chest, anne steps forward and holds onto her sons hands. “you know i love you so much, baby- no matter what choices you make. and, that young man up there is lovely…just- your dad, harry-“

“doesn’t have to know.” harry cuts her off quickly. “i’ll deal with that when i get to it, just, please.”

/

harry creeps into his bedroom. the older boy with his back turned to him, eyes glazed over in wonderment as he stares at harry’s stacks and stacks of CDs. (yeah, he realises it’s so much easier - and cheaper - to download…but call him old fashioned.)

he shuts his door with the gentlest of ease and slowly creeps over to the boy perched on his tip toes.

harry’s arms snake around louis’ waist - his breath hitches with the startle - he props his chin against louis’ shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “you, louis tomlinson, are amazing.”

his lips curve softly and he leans back into the pressure of harry’s chest, fingers tangling with the ones wrapped at his stomach. he feels, just ghostly, plump lips brush against his neck. “yeah?” louis murmurs.

huge hands span against louis’ small hips and turn him gently. “perfect.” he presses a kiss to the lip of the smaller boys nose, loving the crinkles that appear at the side of his eyes.

“told you charming was my middle name.” he winks, poking a finger against harry’s chest before ducking gently out the embrace, biting back a grin. his finger tips skim against harry’s bedside table, louis falling down against the bed, admiring the, what harry would call, junk at the small, white table.

rolling his eyes with a grin, harry moves to the end of his bed and folds his legs. “that’s still debatable.”

with a smirk full against his mouth, louis crawls over. his smaller hands pressing against harry’s thighs as he perches himself up to face harry. breath tickling chins.

“i charmed you, didn’t i?” louis whispers, licking over his lips, finger dancing up harry’s chest.

“even more debatable.” harry’s tone is low, mouth parting slightly.

eyes glinting, louis’ arms curl around harry’s neck- nose presses against his cheek and voice vibrating against the corner of harry’s mouth. “looks like i’m just gonna have to try harder, then…” his hips roll once against the younger boys, head dipping to press against his neck. fingers tangle at the small whisps of hair at harry’s nape.

biting back his grin, harry’s hands slide down to the small off louis’ back, pulling them together tightly. “how exactly do you plan to do that?” he buries his mouth against louis’ shoulder. “think i might need a lot of convincing…”

a warm thumb brushing at the line between louis’ topman boxers and his tanned back, harry’s smirk is wicked. louis’ lips drag across harry’s jaw, hips grinding down low. his teeth graze harry’s bottom lip, hands tightening - a little painfully but fuck - in harry’s curls.

“i’ll have to remind you how you got those bruises around your hips, aren’t i?” louis hushes before dragging harry down and straddling his legs across the wideness of harry’s thighs with a filthy grin.

louis’ body lowers, harry’s hands tightening on his waist, and his nimble fingers pluck at the buttons on harry’s plaid shirt-

and then

“harry! your phone’s down here- ash is ringing!”

the pair freeze for a moment before louis’ collapses onto his chest, giggling into harry’s neck as the boy lets out a low grumble.

“be right down!” he yells, followed by a quiet “fucking ashley fuckety fucker.”

louis just patters his face with kisses.

*

louis’ small frame is curled against harry’s side, fingers dancing patterns across his stomach, eyes comfortable on the television screen- a film he’s forgotten the name of.

harry, usually one to concentrate throughout movies, is humming lightly. his thumb rubbing delicate circles into lou’s upperarm, a soft smile tracing.

*

“harry?” the voice whispers as the door cracks open, his mother’s head popping through the door. and, she tries not to be the littlest bit surprised to see the bare-chested boy sound asleep against her sons stomach.

harry’s head lolls back to look at his mum, he doesn’t breathe a word just smiles.

“um, harry, love…your father will be home soon.”

if the curly haired boy’s nerves spark then he doesn’t show it. his eyes linger on the top of louis’ head before releasing a small breath and turning back to his mum, “yeah…i know”

“harry, you know what’s he’s like…if he-“

“mum, it’s half eleven. when he comes in just say i’ve gone to bed or something. i’ll deal with all that when it happens, just- just…yeah.”

she nods gently before leaning over to peck harry’s cheek. “okay sweetheart.” she almost whispers. “okay.”

and she’s only just out the door when-

“mum?”

“yes, harry?”

“thank you.”

-

with slightly heavy eyes, harry shuffles further underneath the covers causing louis to sit just a little. but, the boy doesn’t awake only curls closer against harry’s chest with a pleasant little sigh.

curling his arm around louis’ sleeping form, he presses a tentative kiss to his forehead before letting his eyes drop shut.

*

the following morning, harry wakes up at 11:34am. he definitely shakes louis’ awake, startling the boy, only to get a slurred response of ‘look li’ we missin school, babe’

with both his mum and dad working and harry feeling particularly giddy, he’d made louis’ breakfast, sprawled across the living room couch (and louis’ lap) to flick through the television channels. harry kissed louis with everything he had whenever he liked as much as he liked that afternoon, and god…yeah, yeah, I can get used to this.

*

“you’re an absolute bastard and i fucking hate you with every depth of my soul, i had p.e alone today and you’re just a cunt because they made us do the-“

“alriiiiiiiiiight, niall. i get it, i’m a twat. i’ll be in tomorrow.”

“erm…excuse me, mr.too good for school, did you just cut me off? since when do you ever-“

“niall.”

“wha…oh my god! you’re with him right now, aren’t you!”

“niall- what!-“

“you are with louis sixthform-artsy-boy tomlinson right now, aren’t you, harry? that’s why you’re off, wellllll, i never! harry styles, you absolute-“

“bye nialllllllllllllll.”

“bastard, bastard, bastard!”

*

you’re so fucking adorable, harry’s desperate to scream when he creeps into the art room. louis’ there, of course he is, working over time (as usual). black apron, splodged with greens and yellows and just colour, tied loosely around his hips, louis got his glasses on. (he doesn’t wear themoften because ‘they make my head look bloomin’ tiny!’, but harry loves them.)

he’s leaning forward towards the canvas, eyes screwed together tightly and brush hesitant against the white. his finger tips are splattered green and he’s got them pressed against his forehead, smudging paint there also. louis sighs, tongue stuck out in concentration.

harry’s steps are gentle and slow as he carefully heads towards his- his boyfriend. he creaks gently around the sides of the tables, ducking slightly and preparing himself with a sly little smirk on his lips.

hands out and spread and then-

“BOO!”

“SHITfuckety-shit-ohmygod.” deep breaths and then, “fucking hell, harry!”

but harry’s already gasped and has clutched at falling canvas, grasping at it just in time. and then louis panics, he’s quick to snatch it out of harry’s hands before he even has a chance to look.

“you scared the life out of me, haz!” he chuckles, still a little alarmed.

harry’s smiling but his heads cocked to the side with curiosity. “what’s the painting?”

“painting? what painting? i don’t know what you mean- oh- oh, that painting. yeah, that’s nothing- no- harry-” he slaps the boys grabby hands away from the art. “it’s not finished.”

“lemme see.” the curly haired boy whines, wrapping himself around louis’ small torso and reaching over to pull the cover away. louis’ face is hidden in the taller lads chest, just in time to hear his breathing hitch.

louis’ face is burning furiously, he doesn’t dare move.

“you painted- that’s- that’s-“

harry’s gawping, hands tugging through his own hair. he takes a short step back, just far enough to wrap his fingers around louis’ wrist. he pulls the boys hands away from his face and he’s…

glowing. harry’s glowing.

“it’s not very good…” louis murmurs. “i’m not nearly finished and i think this will just be a draft- i just needed to-“

harry crashes his lips against louis’.

*

“phoebe, what on earth have you done to my boyfriend?!” louis comes barging into the twins shared bedroom, spotting harry in the middle of the hello kitty run. phoebe flails with a screeching giggle, harry’s smile is drawled and lazy. his slender finger coming up to ruffle his curly bunches, tied with a pink flowered hair-tie to match his powdered, rosy cheeks. he just can’t say no to those girls.

but, his grin is bursting and louis’ kind of sure his cheeks aren’t that pink due to the blusher alone. phoebe goes skipping out the room, giggling, louis tickling her quickly as she dashes past him.

louis turns on his heels towards the boy, looking ridiculous with eye shadow smeared everywhere, and he’s smirking cheekily.

“oh, don’t look so smug, styles.” louis mutters, rolling his eyes with a small smile.

“boyfriend, eh?” harry’s voice is awfully soft and god, louis wants him then and there.

“continue with that shit-eating grin and i may reconsider.” he chuckles, hands reaching out to pull harry to his feet. “now, we’ll get that make-up off you and get you into the safeness of my bedroom…it feels wrong to ravish you in my sisters room.”

“ravish me?” harry repeats, stepping in front of louis and swaying his hips all the way to the bathroom.

louis’ arms slide around the boys slender hips, lips coming to mouth at the boys neck. “you can keep the hair, though…look cute on you.” his teeth nip just under harry’s earlobe and the boy hisses a little. “you’ll feel it more when i pull on your hair, too.”

“shit”

*

“ooooh, look, i’m harry and i’m so cool because i have a sixthform lover coming to watch me play footie, oooo.” liam sings, sliding onto a changing room bench and pulling a tongue at the chuckling teenager opposite him.

the lad just shakes his head, bemused, continues to lace up his studded football boots. (the lucky white and red ones because they’re against chesters comprehensive year 12’s, and they’re no easy team, alright?)

“what are you even talking about, stupid?” harry glances up, re-adjusting the band on his head. he’s got a lot of hair and he can’t let it get in his eyes whilst he’s playing, shut up. harry eyes liam a little curiously with a fond smile for his team mate.

“i’m on about that boy on yours, with blue painted stripes across his face, sitting in the stands with stan lucas looking like he’s ready to burst.” there’s really nothing genuinely mocking about the words though, liam actually looks quite pleased.

harry pauses, though. his hands stilling on his boots and letting liam’s words sink in. “lou…louis’ out there? he drove to chester to- what”

“out there? mate, he’s got a foam finger.  it is the second biggest game of the season though, makes sense that your boyfriend is out there supporting you and such. ” liam ruffles harry’s hair affectionately before tugging his football shirt of his head. “now come on, captain, the team’s waiting in the away-team room.”

harry’s beaming.

*

score 1 for me won’t ya, babe? – L ;) x

oh, you know I will ;) – H .x

*

they win 3 – 2. harry scores two out of three of the goals.

*

 “oi, styles!”

harry’s always the last in the changing room, but he’d know that voice anywhere by now. shirt half rucked up his torso, he turns on his heels with a slow spreading grin.

“i don’t think fans are meant to be in the changing rooms, you know.” he winks,  smile lopsided as he hangs his shirt up, reaching for his bag.

“oh please.” louis chortles, pushing himself off the door and stalking towards boy. “like i’m here for you, don’t flatter yourself.”

harry lets his bag drop to the floor again, fingers scraping back his sweaty curls. “i know your game, tommo, you came here purely to see how good i look in this football kit.”

got to hand it to louis, he’s like a fucking cat. within a few short strides and a leap, he’s flew at harry- the barechested lad barely catching his thighs to keep him upright but louis’ grin is blinding. his arms lace around harry’s neck and his mouth comes to hover against harry’s ear, his small hand just across harry’s heartbeat.

“i’m certain,” he pauses, breath hot against harry’s cheek as his bottom lip drags across his jaw. “that you’d look even better without the kit.” his fingers scratch against harry’s tense shoulder blades, a low growl coming from the younger boy as he crushes their lips together.

*                          

stan got me in a head lock earlier, in the middle of the corridor, and said something about a ‘changing room hand job’, you little shit! – H .x

i didn’t tell him i swear!! well not in so many words he could just tell when he saw me afterwards and i denied it but he was so onto me it wasn’t my fauuuuuuult. i’m of the innocent – L xxx

you’re far from innocent. – H .x

pardon me good sir but I am the equivalent to the virgin mary thank you very much ; ) – L x

*

don’t you have art 4th lesson? niall went to see if you were working through dinner or wanted to go to the chippy but he said you weren’t there. haven’t seen you round school either, are you in? – H .x

sorry love! only just got up, slept in, apparently mum couldn’t even wake me this morning, haha! dead to the world. no point in me coming in now, but i can still meet you at 3? – L x

you’re so lazy, it’s actually unreal. you’re worse than zayn (who fell asleep on liam today, he went so red- hilarious!)but yeah, of course! might as well just get to ours for half past, mum’s cooking lasagne…..i’m concerned with how happy she is that you’re coming round – H .x

your mum is so hot though!! – L x

sorry

she is though

so fit

SO FIT!

Hahahahahahahah

answer me

harry i’m bored

have you seen stephen hawkings on the go compare advert?

you use any form of descriptive word like that again for my mother and i will rip you to pieces.

oooh. looking forward to it, sweetcheeks ;)  – L x

-*-

“louis!” anne grins, a smile as wide as he sons, hugging him warmly. “lovely to see you. harry’s just in the bathroom, he’ll be down in a minute if you want to go into the living room.”

nodding, louis does as he’s told and pads into the familiar living room. “you’re looking as gorgeous as ever, anne.” he winks as she passes her way into the kitchen, chuckling in response. “hazza said you’re making lasagne?”

before anne even has the time to respond, a voice comes flooding from upstairs.

“mum! louis’ already on his way around and i don’t have a decent shirt to my name and this t-shirt is clinging to my stomach and mum-“ he’s already running down the stairs. “muuuum, do you think i’ve put on weight? don’t even start all that ‘teenage boy’ stuff because i am telling you right now that- louis. hi. um. never heard you come in- i-what-hi.”

louis’ lounging on the couch, arm across the back, smirking up at his boyfriend who’s hovering in the hallway. he stands there looking as fucking gorgeous as always with the low-neck exposing his delicious collarbones and water droplets still dripping from the end of his rung out curls.  

the boy glances in the direction of the kitchen- no sign of anne, not that it particularly mattered. louis slowly lifts himself from the couch before striding towards harry and locking his hands against harry’s slender hips.

“so fucking beautiful.” he mutters and it’s kind of absentminded, mouth ghosting against harry’s parted lips. “and all fucking mine.”  the crush of the kiss is almost painful as harry moans, louis sucking on his bottom lip.

*

louis’ fingers are wrapped tightly around harry’s wrists, holding him down against the floorboards of harry’s bedroom. louis’ perched on harry’s lap, straddling him, mouth trailing kisses up his neck and jaw line, hips rocking.

“fucking eager today aren’t you, lou?” harry’s breathing is shallow and harsh, mouth dry, hands straighing with the urge to just touchtouchtouch louis. needs to. louis’ kisses turn into harsh sucking just below harry’s earlobe.  a groan rumbles at the back of harry’s throat, then “got school t’mrrow- mum’s…mum’s – shit – downstairs.”

louis’ practically purring, rolling his hips into a grind and it’s fucking filthy. harry ends up breaking his hands loose from louis’ grasp and he just grips. grips onto louis’ relentless hips.

“looks like you’re gonna have to be quiet for me then aren’t you, babe?”

harry shudders a little as louis slides his top up his long torso, leaving harry’s chest bare- but not for long.  not for long at all because louis’ lips are fucking attacking and harry can’t help but wind a hand in his hair.

and, it’s quite shocking that they don’t hear it really, especially with them being on the floor. but, they don’t. they don’t hear the front door close or anne’s, subtly panicked, little shouts upstairs.

Louis comes trudging into the living room. He barely glances at the owner of the voice. His breathing is heavy and he's not quite sure why. He drops his coat onto the couch and ends up flopping over it. The carrier bag, containing milk, is discarded. He can't be bothered making tea anymore. 

"Why do you look like you've just seen a ghost, shit yourself, then bumped into Frankie Sanford or something?" Zayn examines Louis' expression tightly. He sits up from where he's slouched on the opposite couch, eyebrows arched in an all too interested manner. 

Huffing, Louis runs a hand through his hair and just about glances at Zayn's amused expression. "Sorry for being so long...got sidetracked." He mutters, eyes looking shifty. 

Zayn's eyes light up and in seconds he's flung himself down next to Louis. He swings his legs over the other boys lap and grins. "Is it a he?" Zayn presses, poking at Louis' side. "It's a he, isn't it! Oh, you bastard. You tell me right now! Is he cute?" Adding a higher pitch to his tone, Zayn flails around, mockingly. 

Groaning, a hand slapping over his eyes, Louis sinks further down into the leather. "And, you call me camp." He murmurs. "He's a student, you twat."

His grin falters for a moment before letting the words roll around his tongue. Student. "What year?"

Louis' stance sharpens, and he turns to gawk at Zayn. "Like that makes a difference! He's still a student, and I have absolutely no liking towards him because he's a pupil and you are fil-"

"What year?" Zayn cuts him off with a sharp slap to the mouth.

"First year sixthform." 

"This is brilliant!" He whistles, bouncing excitably. "You're looking all crush-stricken over a pupil, who's legal by the way, this is like a movie."

"I am not crush-stricken, you're disgusting."

"I had sex with a 27 year old when I was 16." 

- 

"Wow, Lou..." Zayn's voice hushed that morning and there's a brief awe to his tone. Louis glances up from his bag with lack of expression. "You look like shit, Babe." 

"Dick." Louis huffs. Although, Zayn is right. He did look awful, he'd barely managed two hours worth of shut eye...and, Louis knows exactly why. 

"Not my thing, mate. However, I'm sure your lovely little school boy wouldn't mind."

Disastrously, Louis feels the apple of his cheek turning a brighter shade and he instantly turns to fiddle with his satchel. "I don't even know why I'm friends with you." He mutters. "And, for a not-so-morning person, you're so fucking chipper."

"Lou, Darling, you do know it's eight o'clock, right?" Zayn whistles, cheerfully. He grins at the gawking boy. "Which means, you're late."

"Shit!" Tossing his mug into the sink, Louis runs a hand thickly through his hair before snatching up his bag. 

"What would you do without me?" Zayn calls to the, practically, running friend. "Have a nice day, Sweetums." before Zayn proceeds in munching on Louis' discarded breakfast. 

-

"Li, right, I don't want to be forward or anything..." 

Liam pauses in his quick paced walking for a second or two. He recognises that nervous tone to Harry's voice clearly. "Go on." Their stroll to school slowed a little.

Harry tugged tightly at his own fingers, chewing on his bottom lip. "Any chance I could stay over at your place tonight?" 

The older of the two sighs and Harry has to do his best not to let his whole expression shatter. "I'm going to Danielle's tonight, mate..." His voice trails off, analysing the slight tremble of Harry's bottom lip. "But, if you want I could always cancel, I mea-"

"No, no." Harry brushes him off with an all too forced grin. "Doesn't matter."

-

Harry's fingers tap thoroughly against the table tops in the canteen. He eyes Niall warily as the blonde stuffs his face, demolishing the chocolate bar in his left palm. Harry shakes his head with a light chuckle and decides how he plans to go about this.

"Nialler, do you wanna stay round my place tonight?" His voice is as calm as can be. "Mum's doing the night shift tonight so we could have a few games of FIFA, get a couple of bottles or-"

Niall cuts him over with a, definitely over dramatic, sigh. Harry tries his very best to not let his expression falter. The Irish man grumbles something that doesn't quite make sense.

"Ar man, I'd love to." He pouts. "Promised I'd go round and mind Susie for Janet, sorry mate." 

Harry just shrugs. "Don't matter." His stomach is twisting, however. 

"Chris will be in though, won't he? You won't be on your lonesome!" 

And, Harry feels like vomiting.

-

The class are as close to silence as they'll ever get, heads down and pens scrawling against paper as they draft out their first practice essay. It's purely so Louis can see their writing skills. 

Louis, marking his Year 9's homework, pretends not to notice how Harry Styles hasn't wrote a word for the past five minutes. He's holding his pen lazily in his right hand and twirling it round the corner of his page.

Louis circles yet another grammar mistake in red and holds back his sigh. (Seriously, is the your and you're rule really that difficult? He swears he's-

There's a sudden bark of laughter. Louis' head flies up to see Niall's shoulders shaking and none other than the curly haired boy with his hands clasped around his own mouth. His cheeks pink a little, and Louis can't help his fond little smile.

Then there's a mutter from Steven Jenkins that causes Louis' eyes to sharpen instantly. Harry's embarrassed smile drops to sheer discomfort. However, Jacob, Steven's little shit of a sidekick, doesn't hold any discomfort at all as he bursts into uproars of laughter. 

It's Louis' job to be a bastard. And, a bastard he shall be.

"Um, Jacob. Yourself and Steven are about as funny as a dose of diarrhea  now if you would shut up and get back to your work."

The majority of the class snigger and Louis can't help but look pleased with himself as he sinks further back into his chair. Both Steven and Jacob purse their lips and continue with their draft. 

Harry's smirking and yeah, yeah Louis sends him a wink. 

*

"Hey, um, Mr T?" Mr T.

Louis glances up from his book to the boy dawdling by the door of his, now empty, English class. His school blazer is curled in his arms and uniform pants low on his slender hips and fucking hell, it's a school uniform how does he manage to make it look like that? 

Get a grip of yourself, Tomlinson! He's a kid! Oh god, I'm thinking about how low a kids pants are. 

And, Louis just really can't right now, okay.

"Everything alright, Harry?" His voice is steady and he's proud because Harry is a kid. 

"Yeah, uh..." That fucking honey-like dragging voice will be the death of him. "Just wanted to thank you for like, you know, Steven and Jacob. Like, stopping them." 

Louis tries to bite back his smile, leaning back into his chair and turning completely towards Harry. "What makes you think I shut them up for your benefit, Styles? Maybe, I just wanted them to actually finish their work."

He ruffles his unruly curls and glances down at Louis, chewing on his bottom lip. "Well...You did, didn't you? Stop them laughing for me, I mean."

Rolling his eyes with a smirk, he nods. "Yeah, yeah I did." He stands, scooping up his book. "I won't have words like that used in my class. No need to thank me, lad. Just ignore them." 

Harry's head nods quickly and he's slipping out the class door. "Yeah, yeah, I know just, again, thanks Mr T." 

As soon as he's out the door he releases the held breath and grins. 

*

"Zayn, help me." Louis' only just holding his phone against his ear, voice muffled against the carpet. "I'm a horrible, horrible person."

"You're wasting your credit."

"I'm well and truly fucked, Zayn. My life is over. Someone is going to hear my thoughts or I'm gonna end up jumping on him and I'll lose my job and then you'll kick me out because I can't find the rent. Maybe, I'll lose my job and then get food poisoning because I can't afford real food and Zayn, it'll be so upsetting. All because of a- oh my god, I think I just ate dust- but all because of some curly headed fuck who's old enough to-"

The line goes dead. 

Zayn trudges out of his bedroom, barely glancing at the boy laying face first on the living room carpet. "I'm ordering a take-away. Do you want anything?" Louis doesn't reply at first, so Zayn feels completely justified when he lobs a pillow at his head before walking into the kitchen.

"Just leave me here to die."

"Did you just quote Lilo and Stitch?"

"Shut up."

"Your life is tragic, Louis, mate."

-

Harry's not in Louis' lesson the next day. He's not in school at all. Louis shouldn't care.

Shouldn't care, he's just a student who Louis has taught all of 4 times.

He doesn't care.

Except, he does. 

Louis winces a little, warily sitting up from where he’s melted over Harry’s lap on the bed. “Um...She- kind of- already knows.” He murmurs, somehow tugging an innocent smile to his lips. Harry’s eyebrows pull together in confusion. “I may have asked her for permission before we booked this holiday...”

Harry pauses.

Louis was almost certain that his expression was about to turn to disappointment, and he can’t deal with that. He hurries to add a, “You can still tell my Mum- and Gemma, and the lads, and everyone!” but Harry was far from disappointed.

He dives at Louis.

With a giggle, he’s wrenched at Louis’ wrists and knocked him backwards, pinning him against the bed. “Aren’t you a little gentleman?” Harry smirks, burying down to nuzzle into Louis’ neck. His curls brush against Louis’ cheek as he presses gentle kisses along his jaw with soft nothings whispered along the hot, freshly-tanned, skin.

He sits on Louis’ lap, releasing his wrists. The older boy props himself up with a chuckle, his hands knotted with his lovers, tightly.

“You’re my fiancé.” His voice is hushed and delicate and everything lovely.

“And, you’re my fiancé.” Harry breathes, loosely. His hands skim over Louis’ chest, the striped t-shirt sticking to his skin due to the Spanish sun. “I can’t even explain how amazing everything is looking from here on, in my head...” His voice trails off, absentmindedly. Louis would usually take the piss out of Harry’s ‘cheesy ramblings’, as usual, but he doesn’t this time. He stares up at his future-husband, blissfully. “Suit - suit occasion...Who’d be best man?” Harry tilts his head.

Louis hums in thought. “We could have two? Stan for me, and...”

“Zayn for me.” Harry pipes, toothily. He leans down, further. “I wouldn’t trust Niall with the rings, he’d lose them in a day. Aiden would get awkward and he’d be the one throwing up from nerves rather than me. Liam and Matt would get emotional on me and I’d turn into a flailing mess with puffy eyes.”

Louis raises amused eyebrows, hands steadying at Harry’s hips. “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”

When the coy smile rises to his lips and a small, pink, blush caresses his cheeks; Louis does everything he can to hold back the noise of awe that’s dying to pop out.

“Maybe.” Harry mutters.

Louis’ slender fingers pluck underneath his chin, and he’s pecking Harry’s lips, gently. “Don’t worry, me too.”

Harry’s quick to change the subject. “We could stick Zayn in a dress.” He chuckles.

“Yeah.” Louis agrees with a stern nod. “Something black and strappy.”

Giggling, Harry becomes lost once more in his own thoughts. Arms’ snaking around Louis’ neck, legs winding around his waist as the Doncaster boy sits up, Harry’s beaming. Their foreheads pressed together, a small bead of sweat sitting on Louis’ forehead, but he’s mirroring Harry’s smile.

“I love you.” Harry promises voice soft and tickling at Louis’ parted lips.

“Always and forever.” Louis says, solemnly, pressing his lips against his fiancés, once more.

-*-

“Mum’s minding Lucinda and Jackson tonight- shall we go round, then?” Harry ponders, turning towards Louis whilst unpacking his holiday gear. He can’t help but feeling a little overly-giddy at the idea. Anne hasn’t rang Harry, even though she knew they were coming home today- she probably thinks Louis bottled it.

There’s been one too many times where he’s come so close to popping the question- and then never did. In fact, same goes for Harry.

Grinning, Louis nods. Crouching on the end of the bed and zipping his suitcase back up, “Haven’t seen Lucy and Jaxo for a while, either. Is Gemma not coming down with them?”

Harry shakes his head, shoving the, now empty, suitcase at the top of the wardrobe. He turns towards his boyfriend, clasping his hands together. “Nah, her and that prick are going out for a meal, left the kids with Mum and Robin.”

“Thought you liked Jake, now?” Louis snorts, scooting further back against the bed when shoving the last remaining t-shirt in his draw. “The guy is the Dad to your niece and nephew.” He points out.

Harry grumbles something inaudible before flopping down next to Louis.

He thinks about using the excuse of being jetlagged to spend the day snuggling with Louis- but that’s unlikely. Spain’s an hour’s flight away, hardly receiving a trunk load of jetlag from that. So instead, he just curls against his fiancé without breathing a word of a justification.

Louis rolls his arm around Harry bringing the younger boys head to rest on his chest. “And Jaxo looks the spit of Jake.” Louis continues to babble, happily.

“Ugh, shut up.” Harry groans, smacking a hand across his lovers mouth. Chuckling, Louis gains release and plants a brief kiss to Harry’s hair.

Silence falls among the pair for a few peaceful moments.

“Haz?” Louis mumbles, quietly this time.

“Mm?” He hums.

“Do you ever...” Louis fumbles with the ends of his shirt. He really doesn’t want to bring up the idea and look like a total nutcase if Harry disagrees. “Kind of, wish you could have kids?”

Harry doesn’t reply for quite a few, beating, moments. Louis’ hearts in his mouth, tip of his ears turning red and he suddenly regrets it. Harry must think he’s a right weirdo now, either that, or he’ll think Louis’ not happy being with a guy- and just- ugh.

But, in fact, Louis’ not met with disgust, nothing remotely like a disliking in the slightest.

Harry turns onto his stomach, hands on Louis’ chest. “We can have kids.”

Louis freezes.

His eyes quickly become wide and gleaming with apprehension, eyebrows knitting together and his bottom lip wobbling, a little. He sits, upright. “You mean...”

“Surrogacy.” Harry says. “Or, my sister has willingly mentioned donating a few times...”

Louis’ breathing hitches. Smile faltering as he clambers to his knees, eyes boring into Harry’s, seriously. He’s finding it undeniably difficult to form any actual words. His stomach fluttering, a hand against his lips, Harry looking up at him with such adoration, Louis could actually cry.

“Are you serious?” He whispers. “You want a baby?”

Harry leans forward, sitting up straight, hands resting on Louis’ thighs. His smile is bright and a little startling. “I am serious, and I would like a baby. I know how badly you want children...and, you would make such an incredible Dad- and I know how often you think about it...So, I..I- I’d like to...yeah.” Harry brushes his own curls out of-

“Hey.” Harry murmurs, gawping. “Oh, Louis!” He gushes. “Please don’t cry, baby.” He presses a kiss to his cheek, pulling Louis into his arms. His fingers lace through the boys soft hair, holding his lover close to his chest.

“Sorry.” Louis mutters, hands masking his face. “m’sucha idiot.” His voice is muffled by his palms.

“Look at me.” Harry pleads with a gentle laugh, overlapping Louis’ hands. “Lou, please look at me.” He says, removing the covering from Louis’ face. With the tip of his thumb, he brushes the tears away. “We don’t have to...I just thought that’s what you wanted, I-“

“No, no!” Louis hurries, finger pressing against Harry’s lip. “It’s not that...” He muses, sniffling a little. Louis’ not even sure why he’s crying- he was just so overwhelmed and...yeah. “It’s just- you are so amazing, and I don’t deserve you because you are so, so incredible, and Jesus, Harry! I- I, just.”

Harry’s eyes soften in awe, swiping away another stray tear with a smile.

“You’d really do that for me?” Louis chokes. “All the nappies and feeding and crying and sleepless nights and everything?”

“Definitely.”

A slight whimper falling from his lips, Louis throws his arms around Harry’s neck, holding onto his for dear life. He shoots back quickly, hands clasping at either side of Harry’s face, everything that is wonderful shining in his, still pooling, eyes. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

His bottom lip still trembling, “we’re going to have a baby?”

“We are!” Harry booms, grinning like a lunatic.

Rapidly, Louis’ peppering and scattering kisses all over Harry’s face, promising ‘I love you’s’ into his skin, tears still sliding down his cheeks.

-*-

“I knew you’d get married!” Phoebe, at twelve years old, cheers, arms up in the air, grinning wildly. “What did I say?” She squeals, elbowing her twin. “Didn’t I say they were going to get married? Yes.”

“Clearly, you are physic.” Harry notes with a wink.

Minus the twins, the other girls of the house were a little stunned.

It’s Louis’ Mother who’s the first to crack, with one triumph burst, tears begun to flood. “My Boo Bear’s all grown up!” She congratulates, moving from the opposite couch to fling her arms round the pair of them.

Silently, all four sisters retreat out of the room. Phoebe and Daisy a little less willing than the older girls, but understanding enough to let their Mum have time with her eldest.

She’s rocking with the couple, holding the boys against her, tightly. Harry, tucked in just as close as her son. His cheeky grin was unmistakable.

Jay pulls away, ever so slightly, one hand in her sons hair, the other holding Harry’s hand. A little coy, but a little proud too, he extends his fingers bringing the ring to her attention. She gushes, inspecting her sons choice of gold band, closely.

“Was he good?” She says, flickering her gaze over to Louis who’s chewing on his lip “Romantic?  Please tell me he was romantic about proposing!”

Chuckling, bottom lip stuck between his teeth, Harry’s eyes are glued to the boy at his side. Knocking their knee’s together, slightly, he hums a, “yeah.” Smile increasing, drastically. “Yeah, he was amazing.”

-*-

“Lotts?” Louis says quietly, knuckles tapping on the eighteen year olds door. “Lottie.” Slowly, he peeks his head through the door just in time to see his sister slam down the laptop screen, her cheeks a little flushed. “Don’t worry, stay on skype to that precious idiot of yours-“ She sends him a pointed look. “-just came up to say Me and H are going now.”

Rolling her eyes, she rises to her feet, opening her arms to her older brother who wraps her into a tight squeeze of a hug.

“mph- ridiculous mf-taller you are than me.” Louis muffles into her hair, pulling away a little, his hands still firm on her upper arms. “When did you even grow up?” He complains.

She giggles, the same giggle that thirteen year old Lottie possessed, flicking him on the nose. “When did I grow up? Lou, you’re the one getting married!”

He smirks proudly, “that doesn’t make me old.” He states. “I would’ve proposed to him at eighteen if I had the money to actually sustain a house and look after him.”

Lottie stays silent for a moment or two, thin and light eyebrows raised- and then, she’s bursting into a fit of laughter. “Oh don’t, you’ll make me sick!” She gags, dramatically, ‘causing Louis to jab her in the stomach, chuckling along. “How sickeningly sweet of you.”

“Right, I’ve got to go, love.” He says, at the sound of shuffling downstairs. Louis’ sigh is hard to hide at the frown that suddenly forms against her lips. “Don’t pout!”

Snorting, she hugs her brother once more, before closing her bedroom door and following him to the stairs. Louis pauses when reaching the top of the landing, turning back towards the eldest of his siblings. “You know you’re welcome to stay whenever you with us, right?” He points out in all seriousness. “You can even bring dic-...David along if you like. We’ve got enough room.”

Lottie’s grinning like a maniac, it wasn’t often that Louis used her boyfriends actual name. Nodding, she murmurs a, “You never know...I might just drop by the next time the twins pester Mum into driving them up there.”

Eyes softening, he rubs her arm gently before they trail down the stairs.

“Love you, Lotty-pop.” A nick name he hadn’t used since she was at least ten.

“Love you, Lou.” She beams.

-*-

“Are you okay with this?” Louis consoles, his hand resting on Harry’s upper arm. Harry’s trembling a little, staring down the street that was once his own, worriedly.  Louis squeezes his hand, warmly. Harry nods with an attempt of tugging a gentle smile against his lips. “You’re sure? If this feels too fast, we can-“

“No, no.” Harry hushes him, glancing up to meet Louis’ eyes. “I want to tell her, now. I’m more nervously excited than anything else. “

Louis’ eyes sharpen a little, scanning Harry’s face for any chance of hesitation. He comes up blank. Gently, Louis lifts his head to press their lips together and he can feel Harry’s mouth turn into a grin against the touch.

“Weird thinking just a few years ago I was nervous to even come down this street.” Louis murmurs, glancing down the all too familiar road with a fond smile.

Harry blinks. Through his thick lashes, he looks up at his friend with a curious tinge to his eyes.

Louis laughs at himself in his ridiculousness, his fingers brushing the top of Harry’s hand from where their palms are clasped together. “I used to, uh.” He pauses for a moment. “You know, the first round at the fair when we moved down here. I used to worry about walking down to your house, I’d be with Aiden and I’d get- I’d get, um, butterflies.”

Harry doesn’t respond for at least a minute. He wraps his arm round his boyfriend- no, fiancé, and Louis wraps his arms round his waist as they stroll down the street. “What’s happening to us, Lou?” He chuckles. “We’re turning into right saps!”

-*-

Louis had been fiddling with Harry’s slender fingers for a good twenty minutes. The pair sprawled across their living room couch. Harry’s caught up in whatever is going on in Top Gear to notice when Louis slaps Harry’s hand onto his face. Louis’ childish antics is almost catlike as he blows against the cool palm that’s fluttered against his face.

Harry’s distraction ends soon enough and he glances down at the boy’s head in his lap. Laughing lowly and watching as Louis pouts against his own sprawled hand.

“You alright there, Lou?” He questions with a smirk, lifting his hand from masking Louis’ face. The older boy just mutters a groan of complaint, grabbing back at the boys wrist and continuing to play with the thin fingers.

“Your hands are so big.” And, the statement is ridiculously obvious considering they’d been together for years. It’s not the first time Louis had told Harry that, either.

“You know what they say about big hands.” Harry winks down at him, cockily.

“Big gloves!” Louis grins up at him, toothily.

-*-

Two hands clamp at Louis’ waist. Startled from his soft journey home from work, he instinctively shoots round- practically head butting the ‘stranger’ in front of him.

“Hey there, stranger.” The low voice murmurs, the hands moving so that his arms can wrap round Louis’ waist. “And, where do you think you’re going?” He breathes, nose brushing the assistant Drama teachers neck. He presses his body against Louis’ with a wicked type of grin. “It’s not safe round here, you should probably go home I’ll happily escort you there.”

Louis snorts. Raising an eyebrow with a smirk triggering against his lip, Louis fixes his bag to readjust it against his shoulder. “Are you flirting with me, kid?”

“What? Me? Flirting? Never.” The younger boy shocks, though his hands are slipping to the small of Louis’ back, and then soon enough they’re sliding down-

“Ah, ah, ah!” Louis swats, slapping the lads prying hands away and retching out of his grasp. However, the boy is persistent and makes a grab for Louis’ hips, tickling at the well known spot until he’s literally reeling away, nearly falling flat on his face in the making. “Aah, Harry, give over!”

Pouting, Harry folds his arms across his chest. “You didn’t even play along with the whole stranger thing.”

“You can keep your little kinky games to yourself, for now.” Louis laughs. “I’ve got places to be, people to see, babes.”

Harry rolls his eyes, grin re-forming back at his lips. He fixes the bag, stuffed with essays,  firmly onto Louis’ shoulder. “Don’t be home too late.” He grumbles, hands smoothing down to cup Louis cheeks. He pecks at his lips lightly and lingering. “I’ve also got beds to be and people to do.”

“Oh, you are disgusting!” Louis tuts with an amused shake of his head.

“You love it!” He cackles. “See you later, Gorgeous.” As Louis turns on his heels, Harry quickly swipes a cheeky smack to Louis’ bum sending the older lad squealing.

Liam doesn't drink as much again. However, that doesn't mean that the events that also happened that night don't repeat.

-

There's only one week left of the boys break before another load of interviews and recording falls into place. Harry's in Holmes Chapel and Louis in Doncaster with El. Niall's in London, Sean's down, and Liam actually goes out with them a fair few times. If the two Irish lads are shocked by Liam's...promiscuity they don't say anything. And yeah, Liam does take a couple of people home with him but it's nothing Niall hasn't done before so he can't judge. 

Liam doesn't know where Zayn is and he tells himself that he doesn't care either.

-

Zayn's playing happy families with Laura's friends and relatives. He smiles and nods in all the right places but mostly lets his... fiancée do the talking. He's holding her hand but he's holding it loose. 

-

It's only due to their first live interview since the engagement that Zayn and Liam speak again. And, it's not exactly friendly conversational chit-chat in the dressing room.

"Liam." The voice is urgent and questioning and he turns on his heels to face the voice, already knowing exactly who it is. He holds his fresh shirt by the hanger with a raised eyebrow. 

"What is...I mean, your back." Zayn stutters, eyes wide.

"My back?" Liam repeats, voice steady and yeah, he's proud. He turns towards the mirror, glancing over his shoulder. His shoulder blades are arched with multiple scratches and marks, varying in colour depending on how long they've been there. There's recent enough bruises on his hips, too.

"Oh. You mean them scratches?" He says cheerily, a smile on his lips. "Well, let's just say Jack was a scratcher- or maybe it was Greg, the bruises are from...from...Oh, I've forgot her name."

Within a few short seconds, Liam's sent smacking against the cold mirrored wall. Zayn's hards grasping against his shoulders, eyes blown wide and he looks fucking furious. Liam doesn't even try to fight back just stares at him.

"You've been sleeping around! What the fuck, Liam?"

Liam shoves Zayn away, hands slamming against his chest and he laughs and it's so un-Liam-like. 

"No, Zayn." The snaps. "The question is, what the fuck has it got to do with you?" He drags the t-shirt over his head and pushes his way out the changing room. If Niall's even slightly suspicious when he storms past him on the way out, he doesn't say anything.

-

And, will the sun ever shine in the blind man's eyes when he cries?

-

"Oh, for gods sake, Harry!" Gemma would curse, glaring down at the five year old sprawled on the hall floor. "Will you watch where you're going?!" She'd kick her bag away from him and roll his eyes.

And, only then would she realise her words and spin round to stare at her brother. The horror on her face wouldn't be seen by the young boy. Of course it wouldn't.

"I wish I could." He'd sniffle, picking himself up, brushing himself off and dragging himself into the opposite living room. 

She'd apologise later even though he wouldn't hold a grudge because no matter what she said, it didn't make a difference.

He was still a little boy who can't see the big wide world in front of him.

-

It's two years since the accident when Anne and her little family and two children move out of Holmes Chapel. Gemma cries and Harry knows she does without having to even feel the tears- he hears her sobs. 

Harry doesn't cry because he doesn't feel like he has any reason to- his Mum reassures him he doesn't. He'll miss Mrs Kay from school but she says there'll be other nice teachers in Doncaster- lots of them, so he believes her. 

Anne ruffles his hair and leads him to the car. 

-

"Mum..." Harry's voice is very quiet as he toddles slowly around their new house - not quite a home just yet. "Why is it empty?" 

Anne pauses, pushing her hair to the side and crouching next to Harry - rather small for the age of six. Her hand holds his gently. "Harry, how could you possibly know that this house was empty?"

"I feel it." He shrugs.

-

There's still unopened boxes lingering round the front door by the third day in Doncaster but that's okay because they're settling. Gemma's bed is the only that has actually been put together- Anne and Harry both sleeping on mattresses for now.

But, the third day is a happy day because the third day is the day that the neighbours knock.

-

The knock is heavy and low and repetitive and Harry's Mother ends up rushing straight at the door to stop the noise. Harry doesn't like too much noise very much - Anne says it's because his ears have heightened senses or something like that. He can hear things better than most though, she tells him so all the time!

When the door swings open, Harry tucked behind his Mother's leg, there's a wide grinning face beaming up. 

"Louis!" A more so distant voice calls as she runs over the road. "Lou, what did I tell you? I said to wait-" The woman stops in her tracks before looking up at the open door. "Hello!" She smiles - nearly as wide and genuine as the younger boys - "I'm Jay, and this is Louis." Jay places a hand on her sons shoulder- who's now staring at the boy peeping past Anne. 

"I'm Louis!" He repeats, voice boisterous and ringing and Harry likes it.

-

Louis, knocks again two days later, and just like that- Harry makes his first friend in Doncaster.