Breaking Point (3a/?)
Pairing: Louis/Harry
Characters: All 5 boys + a few others
Rating: NC-17 for language and sex
Summary: Harry's been in love with Louis for as long as he can remember - and his night terrors and painful memories aren't letting him forget. Especially not when Louis' getting married and he's asked Harry to be his Best Man.
It was later that night before when Zayn dropped him home that he got a minute alone with Harry to ask him about him and Louis’ conversation in the dressing room earlier in the day. Harry, of course, told him everything. The way he saw it, they had been through the mill as much as he himself had with his and Louis’ relationship, so he at least deserved to know why he’d chosen to stay. Harry was always vague on the details when he talked about how he felt for Louis. He’d tell them what happened, but be careful not to divulge too much on his emotional attachment.
“Harry…” Zayn started, not quite sure what he was going to say next, because he knew that Harry was a fantastic poker face, so he had to word his next question perfectly. “Are you still in love with him?” it was blunt and maybe even bordering cruel, but he needed to ask it and he needed Harry to answer him honestly. He had already asked Liam to tell him what happened the night before, but Liam wasn’t one to share stories that weren’t his to tell. He told Zayn that if he wanted to now, he was to go ask Harry himself; which is why he offered to drive him home.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Harry chuckled bitterly, turning his body to face Zayn in the driver’s seat. “Next question.” He’d expected something like this, so he went on with his list of questions.
“When did you decide to come back for the wedding?”
“I woke up in some strange girl’s bed absurdly early yesterday morning and by sheer coincidence, she had the date on her clock and I went straight to the airport.” Harry shrugged. “So at about 11am, your time.”
“That’s a lie, isn’t it?” It wasn’t really a question, because he already knew the answer.
“Of course it is!” Harry scoffed, adjusting the seatbelt that dug at his collar bone. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it! I guess I always knew I was coming back… I just needed a push. And the other night I met this girl Amy - lovely, but serious emotional damage” Zayn laughed fondly. “- and she was telling me about her best friend and how despite the fact that they hadn’t spoken in 3 years, she still missed her every day, because she’s the best friend she’s ever had, so I decided then that I was coming back.” There was a brief silence between them while Harry thought about how if the roles were reversed, he’d want Louis there too and Zayn thought through his next question. Even though he knew that if he weren’t to marry the one person who ever made him feel like he meant anything, the boy he woke up next to the day he legally became an adult and was handed a walking stick with a red bow tied around the handle, the one who was there the day he left his teens and he woke up to a living room full of new toys, party hats and a big banner that read ‘Happy Birthday’ with a dodgy hand-drawn ‘twenteenth’ written in the middle; then he wouldn’t be marrying at all. Harry spoke first, “I’ve been dreading this wedding since I first met her.”
“Oh come on, you couldn’t possibly have known that he’d marry her!” Zayn countered. “They’ve only been together less than a year!” Taking his eyes off the road momentarily to see the solemn expression on his friends face, he immediately regretted his outburst. This is why he usually thinks before he speaks.
“I did, man. I knew the second she stood up to greet me. She was friendly and funny in that self-deprecating way that Louis loves in people.” Harry sighed, because that’s who he was. He was all the things she was; except for the one thing that seemingly mattered to Louis, the one thing that Harry could never change about himself. “I knew it then and I’ve been waiting for it since.” Without looking away from the road, Zayn laid his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Louis will do anything not to end up with me.” He sighed, his head hanging loosely over hunched shoulders and Zayn could do nothing but give him the truth.
“I don’t think you’re seeing it right, Harry.” He said and the younger boy’s head popped up.
“Dude it’s all I’ve thought about for 11 months, I think I have it figured out.” He quipped.
“No man, I don’t think you do.” Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend, but left him to go on. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to end up with you. I think he wants to end up with you… There’s still just that little bit of him fighting it. Maybe because he loves her too?” Harry nodded, because he didn’t want to argue the point, but his mouth just kept going when his head knew to stop.
“He’s scared. He’s terrified. He’d do anything to make himself believe he doesn't feel the way he does about another guy.” Harry stated, blunt enough that there was an audible pop from where Zayn sat, eyes fixed on the road with his jaw hanging down. “So he’d rather marry that poor girl than admit to himself, or anyone else, how he really feels.” After a long silence wherein Zayn tried to compose himself enough to ask his next question and Harry waited because he knew another was coming.
“You don’t think he loves her?” he finally asked, pulling up to Harry’s apartment block.
“Oh he definitely loves her! He wouldn’t marry her if he didn’t love her. He still has some morals.” The harshness surprised Zayn, it even surprised Harry a bit. Because Louis wasn’t unkind. He was thoughtful, maybe a bit of a bitch at times, but mostly he was just warm-hearted and loving and Harry hated him for it.
“So what’re you going to do?” Zayn asked his final question and watched Harry unbuckle his belt and hop from the car. He turned back with a sad smile that was so frequently etched across his features these days.
“I’m going to be his Best Man.”
-
Later that night while Harry tried the only thing that seemed to numb the ache in his chest - which just so happened to be singing - there was a knock on his door. He groaned, turning down the music thinking he was going to be given out to by one of his neighbours again for being too loud. Instead he was met by a smile that made all his efforts to comfort himself through thing he did best fade away to be replaced with the familiar feeling of falling that accompanied Louis’ smile.
“Hey!” he chimed, holding up a link of eight cans and a clear bag that looked suspiciously like it held the ingredients to Harry’s favourite pasta dish. Louis’ forehead wrinkled in concern as the sound of Arctic Monkeys reached his ears from way back in the living room and he frowned. “I can come back later if you’re busy or just, y’know, not up to hanging out?” Harry’s stomach twisted at the fact that not only had the older boy brought his favourite beer and his favourite food, but he’d known well enough the music Harry listened to when he needed to let off some steam. There was a harsh sting in his chest, and he was sure that Louis noticed him cringing ever so slightly when he stepped back.
“No, of course not, come in.” he cleared the way for the boy whose features brightened again as he made his way inside to the kitchen, gently brushing against Harry as he went. “Just let me turn off the music.”
“No, don’t! I like music when I’m cooking.” he called out and Harry could hear the sound of him rummaging through the bag. He let out a weary sigh and closed the front door, leaning his weight on his arm that pressed against the white wood, his head hanging low as he tried to pull himself together himself.
“But you can’t cook to save your life!” he teased, walking to the archway of the kitchen and leaning his shoulder against it, arms folded across his chest to see Louis already had all the ingredients laid out on the countertop in the centre of the room.
“I know, I know. But the way I see it is; you’re a great cook and I’m-”
“Catastrophic.” Harry interjected steadily, a sly smirk curling up on his lips.
“I was going to say mediocre, but okay.” He grinned, turning his back to the curly-haired boy and bending over to open the fridge and put the cans in to cool. Harry’s eyes fell to where the tight material of his trousers tightened across his behind and it was all he could do not to walk over there and grab him by the hips the way he used to. He remembered palming him through his jeans until he couldn’t take much more, throwing the older boy against the counter and relieving him of his clothes and inhibitions. They would be pressed close, both panting and sweating, coming hard and fast before falling to the tiles in a mess of tangled limbs. Louis would say something stupid like ‘thank God we can’t get pregnant’ and they’d laugh and Harry would press his lips softly against his temple and they were happy. Harry shook his head almost violently, trying to rid himself of memories that plagued his every waking moment just as Louis rose to meet his gaze again. “Let’s bring the speakers in here.” He suggested excitedly and Harry nodded, grateful of an excuse to leave the room to catch his breath. He grabbed his iPod and speakers before heading back to the kitchen where Louis stood with his head in his hands, elbows on the marble top and Harry thought that he might have heard him mumbling to himself.
“You okay, Louis?” he asked, startling him. He popped up with a cheerful smile spread right across his face.
“I’ll be much better once I get some decent music on!” he joked, snatching the speakers from Harry’s arms. He plugged them into the wall and replaced the iPod with his own and instantly the sound of Ivy & Gold by Bombay Bicycle Club filled the room.
“Oh God, not this hipster shit again!” Harry rolled his eyes and Louis turned to him with a look of mock offence and smacked his hand over his mouth - dramatic as ever, Harry thought.
“How very dare you, Harold! If you remember correctly, this was the song playing when we-”
“When we got our first number one.” He interrupted, a wave of fondness washing over him at the memory.
~
He and Louis were the only ones awake in the back of the van while Niall was snoring, curled into a sleeping Liam’s left shoulder, Zayn sprawled out on his lap. Of course, they’d taken photographic evidence for later blackmail. They had an earphone in each ear, hooked up to Louis’ iPod when they got the call. Louis answered Liam’s phone that hung loosely from his fingers.
“Yello! Liam speaking.” He said in his best Liam impression, which was actually very good. “Ugh, how’d you know it was me?” he asked, frowning while Harry stifled a laugh behind his hand as he looked up. Louis found him irresistibly adorable in that moment and planted a quick kiss atop his head of curls. Then his face dropped and Harry pulled himself up from where his head leant against Louis’ chest.
“What is it, Lou?” he asked, worry crawling inside him. The older boy mumbled a ‘thank you’ and hung up, dropping the phone to his lap. Harry turned his body so that he was almost kneeling in front of his seemingly paralysed friend. “Lou, talk to me! What’s happened?” The next thing Harry knew, Louis had his hands planted firmly against the curve of his jaw, cradling his face and slick wet lips came crashing down to meet his. After what seemed like an eternity but could have been no longer than a matter of seconds, Louis pulled his mouth away, Harry’s lips puckering and leaning forward for more; more contact, more heat, more movement, more him.
“Harry we’re number one.” It took a few seconds and maybe a repetition from Louis, but it hit him and it hit him hard.
“You’re joking?!” he yelled, waking the others in the process.
“Ugh! Harry shut up, I’m sleepy!” Niall complained as Zayn sat up to see what the fuss was about and Liam draped an arm around the Irish boy who slid down to occupy the warm space on his lap that Zayn had just vacated.
“What are you shouting about?” the boy asked groggily, rubbing his knuckled over his dark eyelashes.
“We’re number one.” Louis repeated. All eyes flashed open to focus on the eldest boy for confirmation. “What Makes You Beautiful is number one!” All at once, Niall leapt up and banged his head off the ceiling, Zayn lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Harry, Liam and Louis met in the middle for a hug, then Liam welcomed Niall into the embrace, rubbing his head for him and giving it a little kiss while they all laughed excitedly before going on for a group hug. It was then, with Louis’ hand gently squeezing the back of his neck that Harry realised that his best friend had just kissed him. And that he didn’t mind it at all.
~
“Yeah, I remember.” Flashing himself back into reality, Harry saw the realisation of the meaning of that song to them hit Louis just as much as it hit him and he quickly turned to flick to the next song; which thankfully had to association to their previous relationship. Louis turned back and their gaze met and Harry saw every second of what he’d just relived played over in Louis’ eyes. To break the tension, he smiled. “Now let’s get this disaster going!” he clapped his hands together and chucked the bag of pasta at his friend, who caught it and smiled.
“I’m not that bad!” Louis protested, ripping open the bag as he watched Harry pull a pot from the cupboard.
“Ha! Yeah okay, whatever you say, Lou.” He scoffed and went to the sink to pour water into the silver pot. Louis’ heart gave a tug at the first mention of his nickname for over half a year and a wide smile spread across his face.