For A While (3/3)
Parts: 1, 2
Harry wakes up the next morning with an inexplicable need to see the boys immediately. It’s been long enough - by their standards, at least.
It might be too early and Liam might be the only one up anyway, but he’d rather go now while Louis’ asleep. He’s careful to roll out of the other boy’s arms, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach when he remembers falling asleep loose, warm, hypersensitive, and drawn close to Louis’ chest. He makes as little noise as he can when he slips into his clothes, turning back once to look at the sleeping boy before he sliding out of the tent.
It’s still early enough that the walk back to their site is as quiet as it’ll ever be all day. He hasn’t been gone that long, and yet the journey back to the boys is more foreign than it really should be - more foreign than the walk back to Louis’ site, at any rate.
As expected, Liam is the only one of the boys awake when he gets to their little cluster of tents. He’s sitting down with Danielle huddled close in his lap as they share a thermos of some hot beverage.
Liam’s eyes fly open widely when he sees Harry, and the younger boy doesn’t miss the varying range in emotion from relief to frustration to confusion in those brown doe-eyes.
“Hi, all,” he greets, though it comes out rather sheepish.
Danielle smiles at Harry, but Liam doesn’t look too impressed.
“You’ve come back, then? Haven’t wandered off, haven’t gone into the wild to live off the land or anything like that?”
Harry rolls his eyes and bends down low to kiss Liam’s temple, just to be an arse about it. The other boy scowls, and Danielle laughs.
“He’s missed you, don’t worry,” she assures him. Liam looks affronted.
“Thought as much.” Harry pulls up a chair and grins in a way that he knows Liam can’t possibly be angry with.
Still, Liam finds it in himself to frown.
“Fine. I’m sorry, Liam. Happy?” Harry even resists the temptation to roll his eyes.
Surprisingly, Liam seems more or less satisfied, and he manages to smile in return.
“That’s better. Now, where’ve you been? And who did you meet?”
“No one,” he’s quick to respond.
But Danielle gazes over knowingly. “You’re blushing.”
Harry’s fingertips fly up to his cheeks, but the damage is done. Danielle is staring at him expectantly, and Liam blinks once to let Harry know he’s waiting.
“Just a guy,” he says. “His name’s Louis - hey, wait, you met him, actually.”
“I did?” Liam asks, surprised.
Harry nods. “Yeah. He’s the one that, erm, ran into me? That first day when we were playing footie?”
Recognition blooms on Liam’s face. “The drunk one? He’s the guy you’ve been with? What - how?”
“Ran into each other again, I suppose,” he fills in. “If it’s any consolation, he was sober the second time around.”
“And you’ve been…staying with him?” Harry doesn’t miss the way that Liam emphasizes ‘staying.’
“Erm.” He bites down on his lip, and he knows he’s given an answer before he’s even said it.
Danielle blushes and pulls herself up from Liam’s lap. She glances over once at Harry, winks, and says, “I think I’ll have a shower. They can’t be that grim, can they?”
Once Danielle has gone and they’re left alone, Harry feels a little like he’s been backed into a corner.
“Harry…”
“It’s nothing,” Harry responds quickly, getting there before Liam can. “It’s just a Leeds thing, okay? Zayn’s right. I - I can’t have everything be perfect all the time and that’s fine. But - just this weekend, alright?” He knows he sounds like a child, but he doesn’t care.
Liam doesn’t say anything for a while. So Harry thinks of Louis, whether or not he’s still sleeping, and if he misses Harry the same way he misses Louis right now - for whatever inexplicable reason.
But it feels something like a small victory when Liam sighs and says, “Is he nice at least? Like…not weird?”
Harry can’t keep from grinning, even though he wants to say that Louis is weird, though in a way he probably wouldn’t mind. It’s a good kind of weird, really.
“Yeah, he’s…you’d like him, I think.”
There’s still noticeable wariness in the other boy’s eyes, but Liam nods anyway. “Bring him around, then. So we can meet him properly once the lads have woken up.”
Harry thinks it over once. “Yeah, alright. I’ll go back and bring him.”
Liam cocks an eyebrow. “Why’d you come back anyway?”
“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Could probably do with a shower, though. And a toothbrush.”
***
He gets back to Louis’ campsite an hour later, and no one else is awake. When he unzips the tent, he’s greeted with a bleary-eyed Louis huddled in the corner, staring at Harry in confusion.
“I - you left.” His voice is hoarse, and remembering the reason why makes Harry’s face turn a shade of pink. He’s looking at Harry like he can’t decide whether or not to blame him. “I thought you left.”
Harry zips the tent shut and crowds Louis’ space, leaning his head on the bit of sleeping bag draped over his shoulder. He kisses the spot there, littering it with murmured apologies.
“I went to go see the boys and clean myself up a bit.” He hums contentedly. “Didn’t leave, though.”
“Oh. Right.” He stretches and rests an arm lazily around Harry’s waist. “Is it weird that for a moment, I forgot that you were…you?”
“Hmm.” Harry’s still a little distracted by Louis’ intoxicating warmth. “No? I think I forgot for a little while there, too, if I’m being honest.”
“Mm, pop star Harry,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s curls.
This is nice. He hasn’t had a Sunday morning - or any other morning, for that matter - quite like this in a while. He’s been awake longer than Louis now, but he’s getting sleepy and sluggish all over again.
“Hey, Lou?”
“Yeah?”
He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Just - where are you from?”
For whatever reason, Harry expects Louis to freeze up or something at the change in topic. But the answer comes easily to him, just like everything else with Louis this weekend.
“Doncaster. Why?”
Harry’s not sure what he’s doing, but he’s pressing gently enough on Louis that they’re both falling back to the tent floor until they’re lying down completely. He positions himself comfortably on Louis’ chest and sighs happily when he slots their legs together. It’s the last full day, but he doesn’t feel like rushing anything.
“Do you go to uni?”
He feels Louis nod above him.
“Want to act. Do some theater or something, but I haven’t really figured it out. I’m kind of just…doing.”
There’s something appealing to Harry about that kind of lifestyle. In his young adulthood, he hasn’t known much more than recording sessions, scheduled interviews, and nightly performances packed to capacity. It’s a very different kind of life, Harry knows, and one that he loves more than he’ll ever be able to express fully.
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t curious - curious about that other life, the life that he thinks he’d like Louis to explain to him, if he can. He wonders if they would have even met under those circumstances.
“Did you ever want to go to uni?”
“Yeah,” Harry says instantly. “Though I would’ve liked to cook. Or bake. I worked at a bakery before trying out for X Factor.”
“You can still do those things,” Louis says, and his tone is surprisingly earnest; it makes Harry’s heart clench.
“Doncaster,” Harry repeats. “That’s a bit far from London, where I am now. I’m from Cheshire, you know?”
Louis chuckles softly. “Heard something to that effect, yeah.”
Harry tilts his head up and looks at Louis curiously. “How?”
“Internet,” Louis explains simply. “Well, that and the fact that I’ve got four younger sisters at home. I could write your biography, mate.”
He remembers that, actually, from when Stan had said it on Friday. And it’s…strange to Harry, though not for the reasons that it should be. It has more to do with the fact that Louis probably knows more about Harry without even trying, and he doesn’t know nearly as much about the other boy. He likes Louis and it just feels a little uneven, that’s all.
“I - sorry, is that weird?” Louis sounds uncertain. “You’re just kind of everywhere, so I didn’t think it’d be much of a surprise.”
Harry elects not to respond outright, and decides to kiss up Louis’ chest instead. Louis hums deep within his chest.
“D’you like coffee?”
Louis laughs from the suddenness and randomness of the question.
“Erm, I do, believe it or not.” He’s still laughing somewhat. “Why? Are you going to make me some right now with your invisible coffee maker?”
“Ha, funny,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ shoulder. “No, just…if we weren’t here right now, I think I’d take you to get coffee. Wake you up properly.”
“Oh.”
Harry worries for a moment that he’s said something he shouldn’t have, that he’s crossed some boundary or something. He keeps from looking into Louis’ eyes, afraid of what he might find there.
“Just that it’s early,” he continues, trying his best to keep his voice even. “And coffee makes sense when it’s early, so - ”
“Hey.” Louis interrupts Harry and cups his cheeks in his hands so that they’re looking at each other. “C’mere and kiss me.”
“What - ”
“Kiss me.”
Harry leans up before he can even think twice and captures Louis’ lips in his own. In another context (maybe if they were both awake enough), he would have pushed a little more and made the kiss hotter than it needed to be. But here, right now with him sprawled across Louis in this small tent, it’s enough to kiss chastely and feel good about it.
Feel satisfied about it.
“Morning breath,” Harry grumbles when he pulls away, but he’s smiling as he does so.
“Rude.” Louis pouts. "For the record, I'd have liked coffee if we weren't here, too."
Harry smiles, catches his breath a little, and kisses Louis’ surprised lips quickly before rolling off of him and bouncing on his knees. “Okay, get up and get ready. We’ve got to go.”
“Go? It’s early,” Louis groans, and to make his point, he turns over and buries his head in his arms. “Sleep time, Harry.”
“No.” He shakes Louis’ shoulders. “We’ve got to stop by my area first. The boys want to meet you.”
Louis freezes and turns over carefully. Harry can’t do anything but shrug and offer him a sheepish grin.
“What?”
“It’ll be fine, I swear! They’re just like me and you like me, remember?”
“Harry…”
“Lou-is. I swear they’ll like you, so long as you brush your teeth and fix your hair.”
“My hair?” Louis props himself up on his elbows, offense etched into his features. “Haz - ”
“Here,” Harry says, reaching out and tugging on the elastic of Louis’ waistband before he can say another word. “Let me blow you and then you can get ready, okay?”
“What? Har - ”
But his protests die on his lips; Harry’ll be damned if he can’t get Louis out of this tent sooner rather than later.
***
As it turns out, Louis has nothing to worry about because the boys love him. Even Zayn, who offers his approval and an apology for Friday with a wink and an arm around his shoulders.
“He’s alright,” Zayn whispers into Harry’s ear while Louis, Niall and Liam compare music tastes.
Harry looks over privately; amused that Louis’ managed to fit in so easily. They haven’t known each other for more than 48 hours, but he’s certain that Louis is just good with, and for people.
“Yeah, he is,” Harry confirms, leaning into his friend’s embrace.
The only person who seems to mind Louis’ sudden appearance is Nick, and he isn’t being very subtle, either.
“I don’t think he likes me,” Louis confides in Harry, keeping his voice low and gesturing in Nick’s direction. “Is there - are you two…”
Harry could laugh. “No, no. He’s just a mate. The lads say he’s got a crush or summat, but - eh.” He shrugs.
Louis glances over to Nick, weighing things over in his mind as the older man looks over in their direction. And before Harry can say anything more, Louis is kissing him full on the mouth, tasting of residual toothpaste and something that he’s come to know as only Louis.
Harry blinks when the other boy pulls away, smirking at him. He can hear Niall’s low whoop in the background, and he doesn’t miss the amusement - and wariness - in Liam’s eyes from off to the side. When he turns around, he sees that Nick and his small group of friends have wandered off.
“You’re a shit,” he tells Louis.
Louis grins, immensely pleased with himself. Niall sidles up beside them, clapping a hand on the older boy’s shoulder.
“He can stay,” he declares with booming Irish bravado.
“Yeah, yeah.” Harry brushes them off and goes to grab a water bottle from his car.
He isn’t all too surprised when he feels someone lurking behind him, and even less so when he turns to find Liam there.
“Yes?”
Liam shrugs. “He’s nice. And not weird.”
Harry resists the temptation to roll his eyes; it’s Liam, after all. “Now I’ve got everyone’s approval. Excellent.”
“So, erm.” Liam’s brows knit together thoughtfully. “Have you two talked about what’ll happen…after this weekend, I mean?”
Harry blinks. “I told you, didn’t I? Just a weekend thing. That’s all.”
“Does he know that, though?”
“It was his idea,” Harry fills in, running his fingertips along the side of the water bottle. He can’t quite meet Liam’s eyes when he says it.
“Ah.” Liam nods, and Harry feels like there’s something else to be said. “Alright. Just wondering.”
Harry frowns. “What do you - ”
“Oi!” Louis’ voice comes sailing toward them. “Stan’s just texted me and he wants to meet up. Yes? No?”
Harry looks over at Liam again, but the other boy is grinning in Louis’ direction. “Yes!”
Louis beams, shifting his attention to Harry. He must see the confusion in the younger boy’s face, because he sends over a thumbs-up and it feels more like a question.
Harry bites down on his lip and sends a thumbs-up right back.
***
On the bright side, Harry doesn’t have to worry about keeping anonymity for the rest of the day - not when he’s walking around with three other boys of equal fame. And on the even brighter side, his and Louis’ friends get along so well that it’s almost scary.
“Stan might steal Niall away from you,” Louis warns Harry as they walk over to the main stage. “Just saying.”
Harry looks ahead at the Irish boy and the brunette boy walking along and talking animatedly. Just beside them, Liam and Zayn are talking with another one of Louis’ friends while Danielle chats with Sara. It should be weird, but it isn’t.
“We’ve done a proper job of intermingling,” Harry says proudly, leaning into Louis’ side. He ignores the occasional groups of fans that notice them walking across the fairgrounds. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
Louis unabashedly flings an arm around Harry’s shoulders, drawing him in. “We’re well on our way to high teas and fancy dinner parties.”
Harry barks a laugh, practically bouncing against Louis’ side.
They stay in that large group for most of the day, easily going from one stage to the next like it’s something they’ve been doing together all weekend. Harry and the boys feel particularly guilty for stopping every ten minutes or so to take a picture or sign an autograph, but Louis and Stan and the rest of them find it amusing.
Harry doesn’t really have time with just Louis, not with friends crowding their space and not with attentive fan girls keeping careful watch over him. It’s still nice, though, to dance and act stupidly together like it’s all they know how to do.
But when Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros takes the Radio 1 stage, Harry can’t help from looking into Louis’ eyes and singing, “Now I got no fear of death now.”
It goes on that way for the rest of the afternoon, with Harry trailing after Louis and wishing for a beanie or a pair of sunglasses or anything - anything to reach over and kiss the smile right off the other boy’s mouth without being noticed.
One girl asks for a picture with Harry after Two Door Cinema Club, and when Louis goes to take the camera from her, Harry shakes his head no and pulls him into the shot, asking Liam to take it instead. The girl doesn’t mind; she seems to smile even brighter, actually.
Harry does, too.
***
It’s half past seven when they’ve finished their food from the canteen, and Harry’s pretty sure he’s done a shit job of hiding his impatience and restlessness thus far. He makes eye contact with Zayn once, and the other boy simply smirks, glancing over meaningfully in Louis’ direction before turning away.
Harry groans inwardly. This is their last night - his last night with Louis, and as much as he loves that the boys met him and that their friends are friends now and whatever, he’d really like to spend these last several hours with just them two. But he thinks this is probably just another facet of his ‘wanting everything to be perfect’…ness, so he bites down on his lip and keeps quiet.
It isn’t until almost eight when Liam appears next to him. He tilts his head over where Louis is talking to Zayn with arms slung around Niall and Stan, and he nudges Harry’s side wordlessly.
Go, he thinks Liam is saying.
So he does.
He strides over and grabs Louis by the arm, flashing the boys a dry apologetic smile before dragging him off. Louis follows easily.
“What’s this?” Louis asks when Harry drags him behind one of the toilets. “I - ”
But he can’t talk once Harry’s lunged at him, their mouths crashing together messily as the younger boy’s hands snake their way up Louis’ back and into his hair. Louis makes a muffled sound but he pulls Harry in even closer by the waist, aligning their bodies and kissing Harry hard and fast.
Harry moves to mouth at Louis’ neck, and Louis laughs breathlessly.
“Y’alright, Harry?”
He murmurs his assent into the flushed column of Louis’ throat. When he pulls away, he can see Louis in the dim lighting, glassy-eyed and pink-cheeked and it’s a good look on him.
“I just.” He licks his lips, catching his breath and thinking over which words to say. “Just us, yeah?”
He hopes Louis gets it, hopes he doesn’t mind that he’s pulled him away from his friends on their last night here just so they can be alone - after having been alone all weekend, already. But Louis seems to get it, and Louis doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, because he’s leaning forward and kissing Harry softly again and swiping a thumb gently against the cut of his cheekbone.
“Yeah, okay.”
Harry breathes out in relief and wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders for a quick but tight embrace. When they break it, he grabs Louis by his slender wrist and tugs him along.
“C’mon.”
Louis follows without asking questions, and after they’ve meandered through the sea of people milling about to their last bands of the weekend, they find themselves at one of the other stages with some artist with some name they don’t know.
But with absolutely no regard for who might see them here, who might wonder what pop star Harry Styles is doing with that boy in the white tee and the khaki pants and the flashy blue boots - it’s perfect.
It’s dark out now, and the band onstage is playing some really slow song that sounds rather horrible live. But Louis is somehow still smiling in that infectious way that has Harry doing the same and reaching for Louis’ hand in the space between them. Their fingers twine together and it’s -
And it’s not one of Harry’s favorite songs - far from it, actually, since this is a band he knows next to nothing about - but the moment seems right, anyway. Everything is glowing ahead of them and everyone is swaying next to them, so it doesn’t take very much for Harry to draw Louis in until his back is pressed flush against Harry’s front.
“Mm,” Louis muses absently, eyes glazed over and still concentrating on the stage when Harry’s arms wrap around Louis’ waist, hands finding purchase in the hollows of his hips.
Harry hooks his chin over Louis’ shoulder and their bodies find the slow rhythm of the song almost instantly. Louis leans back into it and it’s nice and just about every other word that Harry could use to describe their time together.
They stay like that for quite some time - not really moving or anything else, but breathing and holding each other in.
And when Louis rolls off Harry in the tent later that night, still connected by their lips, he murmurs a happy “ain’t nothing please me more than you” and it’s enough to make his whole face flush. And when he hears Louis’ deep breathing and thinks that there’s no point in fighting the smile on his face, he stops, and falls straight to sleep.
***
There are fingers digging into Harry’s sides and he thinks if he were more awake, he’d have a more appropriate response. But right now, all he can manage to do is thrash sleepily and kick, earning a deep groan from somewhere above before feeling soft, warm lips against his forehead.
“Christ, Haz.” Louis’ voice is strained. “My bollocks.”
Harry rumbles deep in his throat and stretches, his long, lanky limbs splayed around him. When he blinks his heavy eyes open, he sees Louis peering down at him with fond irritation.
“Shouldn’t do that to me,” he says sleepily. He pulls down on Louis’ collar and kisses the underside of his jaw. “Morning. Mm…smell like toothpaste.”
Louis huffs minty breath into Harry’s sour morning mouth, kissing his bottom lip once, twice.
“Haz. It’s six.”
“Sleep then,” Harry groans, tugging on the sleeping bag around him.
“No, Haz - we’re leaving.”
Harry’s mind falters and he’s frozen with his eyes shut as he tries to comprehend. “We’re…”
“I’m leaving,” Louis amends in hushed tones. “Me and Stan and the rest of us. It’s six.”
When Harry opens his eyes again, his stomach sinks with the remorseful expression blooming across Louis’ face. He smiles sadly.
“We’ve got an early start,” he explains softly. “Want to beat the rush. Besides, some of us have school and jobs - unlike the international pop stars of the world.”
Harry presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Not intern - ah fuck. You’re leaving?”
“Well, I can’t really, not until the tent is torn down and stuff.” He cocks his head to the side. “And that kind of means you’ll have to wake up if you don’t want to be taken with me.”
“I do, though,” Harry says without thinking, bottom lip jutting out.
Louis smiles again, this time kindly. “Could you imagine what The Sun would say? ‘One Direction’s Harry Styles: Kidnapped!’ Every 14 year old girl would have a fit, my sister included.”
But Harry doesn’t laugh, doesn’t think he can when the full magnitude of Louis’ words are hitting him.
“You’re leaving?”
Louis nods. “It’s Monday. End of the weekend.” He leans forward and leaves another kiss on Harry’s unresponsive lips. “I - I had an amazing time. Really, best Leeds weekend yet.”
Harry wants to say something cheeky, or some form of ‘thanks’ at the very least, but he can’t bring himself to say anything just yet. He doesn’t know why it feels like a bigger deal than it is; they’d decided upon this together, after all. A Leeds thing. A weekend thing. There was nothing there conducive to anything beyond that, and he was well aware.
“Hey.” Louis cards his fingers through Harry’s curls, and it’s enough to relieve the mounting pressure in his chest. “You had fun, yeah? And soon enough, you’ll be in studios or arenas and doing whatever the hell it is you pop star types do, and you’ll have chalked this entire weekend up to one long, drunken memory.”
Harry sits up because no, he won’t. It’s kind of miserable to think about, much less at this early hour. His mum was right; he does get too attached to people, even the new ones that are all shine and luster and brilliance that Harry can’t keep away from.
Louis especially.
“I - okay.” He winces, thinking he’d have something better to say, but that’s all that comes out. And Louis just smiles at him, kissing him once on the cheek and handing him his clothes from the day before.
“I’d offer breakfast or whatever,” Louis says, “but we’ve got shit to eat and I’m afraid I’m the only one left to take down my tent. So…”
“Yeah,” Harry says quickly, throwing his clothes on and trying to stomach the very bitter feeling that he’s being thrown out or something like it. “I’ll be - yeah.”
He ignores the way Louis watches him curiously when he slips into his shoes and steps out of the tent into the blistery cold of morning. The sun is barely peeking out, and he can’t wait until it gets a little bit warmer.
Stan and the rest of them are gathered off by the car, packing it up and talking amongst each other. Stan catches Harry’s eye and winks, saluting him in the process. Harry returns the gesture with a genuine smile.
He turns around and meets Louis’ wide, sparkling blue eyes. “Plans for the day?”
Louis shrugs. “A heroic attempt to make it to my first class, only to crash and fall asleep on my couch, without a doubt.” He smiles proudly. “And you?”
Harry shuffles his feet until his toes are cobbled inward. “Don’t know, really. I’ll have to see with the boys, given that they’ll take me back in the first place. They’re rather fond of you…not sure they’d accept me without you in tow.”
“Stop,” Louis chides gently, before reaching over and pulling Harry into a warm embrace. “I just have that effect on people, I guess.”
Fuck it all, because Harry feels a lump forming in his throat and inexplicable stinging in his eyes and he just buries his face into Louis’ neck and hopes that his ‘yeah, you do’ gets lost in translation.
When Louis pulls away, he offers Harry an encouraging smile.
“You should go, Haz. Wouldn’t want the 12-year-old girls to see you on your walk of shame, now would you?”
That draws an earnest laugh from him, and he swats at Louis’ arm. “Arse.”
“You love it,” Louis says very seriously before falling into a fit of laughter with Harry again.
They stand there, hovering for much longer than really necessary. Harry’s sure he’s holding Louis and the rest of them up just by being there, but he’s trying very hard not to care.
“Okay, okay,” Louis says, sighing. “You have to go. Sorry but…Sara turns into a right bitch when she misses her class. She’s one of those.”
Harry just rolls his eyes at Louis’ low, conspiring tones. “Fine.” And he doesn’t know why he says it, but it comes out anyway. “Will you miss me?”
Louis looks surprised by that one, but only for a flash, because he’s fixing Harry with a very plain, matter-of-fact look. “Of course, you dolt. I’ve just spent my weekend with a member of One Direction. What’ve you done?”
Harry laughs half-heartedly. He knows Louis doesn’t mean it, so why can’t he just -
“Hey.” Louis moves in closer, crowding Harry’s space. He lifts his chin with two fingers, looking at him with the utmost sincerity. “Thanks, okay? You made this weekend - everything, really, just so amazing. Plus, you saved me from being a third wheel with Stan and Sara, so that’s a welcome bonus.”
Harry sighs raggedly. “What about all your other friends?”
Louis shrugs. “All tossers.”
Harry laughs again, this time into Louis’ collarbone before he even knows what he’s doing. He only jumps a little when he feels two hands holding his waist firmly.
“Harry…”
He stands up, straightening his back and meeting Louis’ eyes. “Yeah, okay. Christ, goodbyes suck, don’t they?”
Louis only smiles.
There’s a pause and Harry thinks - no, he knows what he’d like to fill it with. He knows what he wants to ask, what he probably shouldn’t ask, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to help himself if he wanted to, anyway. And the widening smile on Louis’ face says just about everything.
“Listen - I don’t know if - ”
Harry doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to Louis kissing him, but he really hopes he’ll get a chance to.
When Louis pulls away, kissing Harry’s nose once on the way out, he grins knowingly.
“I had serious doubts that you’d manage to say anything at all,” he says with a wink.
Harry feels lost, out of the loop. “What?”
Louis pats Harry’s side once. “I put my number in your phone already. While you were sleeping.”
It takes Harry a moment to register, but his eyes widen in understanding.
“It’s under Louis Tomlinson, in case you were wondering where ‘Tommo’ came from.”
Harry bites at the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. “You know, I did wonder about that.”
“Excellent. Okay well, really, I’ve got to be going, and sadly, uni waits for no one - not even you, Harry Styles.”
Harry leans in again to steal one more kiss from Louis, if only because he can. And it’s not too hard, not when Louis isn’t fighting him on it.
“So yeah,” Louis says once he’s dropped his hands from Harry’s sides. “That thing you said about goodbyes - hate ‘em.”
Harry is walking backwards already. “Absolutely. Loathe them.”
Louis has to raise his voice over the growing gap between them. “I’d kill them all if I could!”
“And I’d help you!”
He’s almost certain that Louis says something else, something in alignment with every other wonderful and ridiculous thing he’s said this weekend. But it’s not long before Harry is stumbling into the next site over and Louis is still in sight, but just out of reach.
On the way back to his site where the boys are waiting, he digs into his pocket and fishes out his phone - just to make sure.
But before he can go through his contact book, there’s already a text message waiting for him - from one ‘Louis Tomlinson.’ He feels light at the recognition of his contact picture: the one of them at the Foster The People set. He opens the text.
good thing we didn’t have to say goodbye, then. right?
Harry swallows and grins, his heart beating crazily in his chest.
Yeah, good thing.