Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4233735.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      One_Direction_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Harry_Styles/Louis_Tomlinson, Niall_Horan/Harry_Styles, Eleanor_Calder/
      Louis_Tomlinson
  Character:
      Harry_Styles, Louis_Tomlinson, Anne_Cox, Gemma_Styles, Robin_Twist,
      Eleanor_Calder
  Additional Tags:
      no_happy_ending, Domestic_Violence, Dubious_Consent, Suicidal_Thoughts,
      Consensual_Underage_Sex, Substance_Abuse, This_story_is_fucked_up_guys,
      so_fucked_up, Abusive!Louis, Victim!Harry, Other_people_show_up
      sporadically, but_not_really, This_is_about_Louis_and_Harry, Nobody_else
      is_really_important, Cheating, I_forgot_to_add_that_with_rest_of_the
      triggers
  Series:
      Part 2 of Mark_Me_Up,_Make_Me_Yours
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-29 Words: 12374
****** Mark Me Up, Make Me Yours- Louis and Harry's Story ******
by Diaryofanarcissisticgayman
Summary
     By the tenth time it happens, Harry knows that it isn’t an accident
     anymore. It’s worse than that. It’s Harry’s own fault. He’s the one
     who drove Louis to this. He’s the one who deserves it. “This is what
     it feels like when you’re gone!” Louis spits, hurling his half-empty
     beer bottle at the wall somewhere behind Harry’s head. “It hurts
     Harry! All the time!”
     “Lou, please, calm down.” Harry pleads, keeping himself small because
     Louis doesn’t like to be challenged when he’s like this. He has to
     try though. Last time he just let Louis keep going, they’d had to
     replace two floor-to-ceiling windows in their bedroom after their
     telly had gone through them.
     “I’m not done talking!” Louis roars, his knuckles connecting with the
     side of Harry’s jaw and sending him crashing to the floor. Louis is
     small, but he’s strong. He has more muscle than you’d guess from
     looking at his wiry frame. Harry knows it well though. He knows
     exactly how much power Louis has.
Notes
     I have never written Larry before as a main pairing, and I know that
     shows in this story. I'm sorry for that. I did everything I could to
     keep it at my normal level of quality, but I feel like this came out
     sub-par even for me. It was a really emotional story for me to write
     for personal reasons, and that, combined with my inexperience and
     distaste for the pairing, led to this. One more warning, look back up
     at the tags. If there is anything in there that risks triggering you,
     then don't read this story. It helps give insight into Harry's
     character in MMU MMY, but it isn't worth reading if it makes you
     uncomfortable. Also, if you saw this and came for the Larry, know
     that it isn't a happy ending, and Louis is not shown in a good light
     for story purposes.
See the end of the work for more notes
Lou-Lou: Styles, I’m out front. I only have the car til 8, so don’t b vain n
keep me waiting.
Harry jumps off of his bed the second he finishes reading the message. Louis
drove the seventy-five miles from Doncaster to Holmes Chapel in order to see
him, and they’re going to make the most of it. He grabs his wallet off his
dresser, making sure that he has enough money to pay Louis back for gas. It
costs a lot when they want to see each other since they live so far apart, and
Louis can never hold down a job for longer than a couple of weeks. So Harry
saves up his paychecks from the bakery and gives some (actually most) of his
money to Louis to help alleviate the cost.
“Bye Mum! Be back around six!” Harry calls over his shoulder as he races out
the door. He hears her call back exasperatedly to ‘Behave yourselves!’ but
whenever he’s with Louis that has a tendency to not happen so well. He bounds
up to the little blue car, waving through the window at his feathery-haired
friend. “Hi Lou!”
“Hey Styles.” Louis chuckles, opening up the door from the driver’s seat so
that Harry can climb in. “So, where to?”
“The bakery please.” Harry beams. “Barbara promised to set aside some of those
biscuits you like for us.”
“Sounds perfect Curly.” Louis laughs, ruffling a hand through Harry’s fringe
before driving off, not knowing about the warmth he’s caused to spread over
Harry’s cheeks at the contact.
He always drives really carefully until they get a block or two over from
Harry’s house in case his mum is watching, but then he drives like a maniac
until they get wherever they’re going. It should take ten minutes to reach the
bakery, but with Louis behind the wheel it only ever takes three. Harry won’t
admit that it makes him nervous though, because he wants so badly for Louis to
think he’s cool, and the older boy won’t if he knows Harry is scared of
something stupid.
They walk into the bakery giggling, and Harry runs over, ducking under the
counter to wrap Barbara up in a big hug. “Hi Barb!” he grins. “Did you-”
“They’re in the warming tray Dear.” Barbara hums, pressing a sloppy kiss to
Harry’s cheek. He gives her one right back before flitting off to grab the
biscuits and a couple of drinks for them. Mr. Wakefield, the owner, would sigh
and roll his eyes, but neither of them would make him make him pay. They’re
like grandparents to him, even if they are his bosses.
“God, these things are bloody magical Barb! When are you going to run away with
me?” Louis calls to her, shoving an entire biscuit in his mouth at once. She
smiles and shakes her head. She thinks Louis is too cheeky for his own good,
and Harry has to agree most of the time. “So Curly, what’s on the docket for
today?”
“Well there’s the antique fair at the Leisure Center.” Harry offers. Louis
rolls his eyes, but Harry adds “You said your mum’s birthday is coming up, so I
thought maybe you could find her something there.”
“That’s not a half bad idea actually my young Harold.” Louis smirks. “She likes
that old stuff. Makes her feel proper fancy.”
“Do- Do you want to check it out then?” Harry asks tentatively.
“Could do.” Louis nods. “Not until we finish these biscuits though. They’re
half the reason I drive all the way out here to this sleepy little village.”
“Oh.” Harry says quietly, casting his eyes down at the table and hoping
desperately that he doesn’t look as deflated as he feels.
“Relax Styles, you’re the other half. I like seeing your face in person.” Louis
laughs. “Looks better than over skype.”
“Oh thanks!” Harry huffs, knowing his face has just lit up like a Christmas
tree even though he’s trying to go for indignant.
“Any time Harold.” Louis cackles, grabbing another biscuit and tossing it up
into the air to catch it in his mouth.
 
They make their way through the Antique Fair, and Louis manages to find this
pretty little watch for his mum that he gets at a good price after Harry charms
the sales-woman. The hug Louis gives him afterwards definitely kicks up a swarm
of butterflies in Harry’s stomach, and they still haven’t settled down an hour
later when they’re sitting on the hood of Louis’ car, running down the time
left until they have to part ways again for another month or so because these
trips hit Louis hard financially.
“What’s the matter Harry?” Louis asks.
“Nothing.” Harry mumbles, staring at his own fingertips to avoid looking up and
blushing for the hundredth time today.
“Don’t give me that. I can tell when something is up with you Curls.” Louis
huffs, nudging Harry with his elbow.
“I just- I want to tell you something, but I’ve never told anyone before. Not
even my mum or Gemma or Robin.” Harry whispers. “But- But I don’t want you to
hate me.”
“Nothing is going to make me hate you Harry.” Louis tells him, an
uncharacteristic gentleness seeping into his tone as he wraps Harry’s hand up
in his own. “I promise. You can tell me.”
“I’m- I think- I-” Harry chokes on the words, fear catching them and keeping
them back before they can change everything. Louis gives his hand a squeeze,
and Harry takes a moment to breathe before he admits “I’m gay.”
“And?” Louis hums.
“And what?” Harry asks, afraid that Louis has figured out about Harry’s epic-
level crush on the other lad, and yet simultaneously relieved that Louis hasn’t
freaked out or let go of his hand.
“And what else?” Louis questions. “Because I know you can’t possibly think that
I’d hate you for that. Did you murder someone? Set fire to an orphanage? Are
you secretly Bin Laden in disguise?”
“No. I didn’t hurt anyone and I’m not a terrorist.” Harry huffs. “I’m just
gay.”
“Well that’s nothing terrible Harry.” Louis smiles. “I’m perfectly fine with
you being gay, and I’m pretty positive that your mum and sister will be too.”
“Really?” Harry asks, his bottom lip wobbling from the relief he’s feeling. He
knows tears are starting to build up in his eyes, but they’re good ones. Happy
ones. Louis didn’t reject him, didn’t hit him or call him names. At least one
person out there still cares about him despite this thing that makes him
different. That’s a start.
“Really.” Louis nods, pulling Harry into his chest and letting him cry out all
the nervous emotions he’d built up over the last few days once he’d made up his
mind to tell Louis first. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and home. Can’t have
our mums mad at us when we actually didn’t make any trouble for once.”
“Thanks Lou-Lou.” Harry mumbles into the fabric of Louis’ jacket.
“Any time Harold.” Louis hums, echoing the words he’d said earlier.
 
“Harry! You’ve got a visitor!” Anne calls up from the door. Harry sighs and
pushes himself up off of his bed. Louis hasn’t texted him back all day, and the
curly haired boy is beginning to fear that Louis didn’t mean a word of what he
said yesterday. That it was all just a ploy to get Harry back home without
making a scene and then disappear from his life forever because Harry is just a
disgusting little faggot. Except he was right about Harry’s mum, and Gemma, and
Robin not caring. They’d accepted him with open arms, telling him that it was
just fine if he was gay, as long as he was happy.
He slumps out the door, walking downstairs slowly until he hears an all too
familiar voice chirping away with his mum’s. His feet can’t move fast enough
then as he sprints towards the entryway. “Louis?” he gasps, taking in the scene
in front of him.
Louis is standing there with a dozen slightly smushed red roses, wearing a suit
that’s a little big on him, and the brightest smile Harry has ever seen. Anne’s
is softer, as if she’s happy for Harry even though the younger lad has no idea
what’s going on. “What are you doing here?” Harry asks quietly.
“I was wondering if maybe, possibly, you’d like to go on a date with me?” Louis
asks sheepishly. “I didn’t want to assume that you liked me, but I really like
you Harry, so I thought-”
“Yes!” Harry squeals, jumping up and down with a bit less dignity than he
should probably have at this moment. He doesn’t care though. Louis likes him.
Louis Tomlinson likes him, and that’s all Harry thinks he’s ever really wanted.
“Just- Just let me get dressed for a date, okay?”
“Okay.” Louis grins.
“Harry.” Anne says pointedly, reminding him that none of this has actually been
approved of by his parents.
“Please Mum?” Harry begs, clasping his hands in front of his chest.
“No later than nine. You have school in the morning.” Anne sighs.
“Thanks Mum!” Harry beams, throwing his arms around Anne in a tight hug. He
presses a kiss to her cheek and then scrambles upstairs, pulling off his ratty
t-shirt and tugging on the button up that his mum had made him get for a
wedding last year, and a blazer to go over it. He checks his hair in the
mirror, but he can’t really do much with it, so he settles for the wild mop of
curls and hopes that Louis likes it. The girls at school seem to, but they’re
girls, and younger than Louis, so maybe it’s different. He takes a minute to
steady himself, and then walks back out of his room and down the stairs to find
his mum and Louis standing around in awkward silence.
“I promise he’ll be home by nine.” Louis tells her, taking hold of Harry’s
hand. “I’ll take good care of him.”
“You’d better Louis. He’s my baby.” Anne tells him. Her tone is sharp, but her
eyes are giving her away as the fond softie she is. She’s feeling like an
overprotective mama-bear, but she’s also happy for them. “Not a minute later
than that or my foot goes down on this.”
“I promise.” Louis repeats, walking out with Harry in tow.
 
“How’s your spaghetti?” Louis asks, fiddling with his tie like he’s been doing
all evening.
“Same as yours probably.” Harry giggles.
“Shit, yeah, of course it is.” Louis sighs, muttering insults to himself under
his breath and looking like he’s on the verge of smacking his own face.
“Lou, relax.” Harry laughs, trying to put him at ease. “I’m enjoying myself. I
had fun at the arcade. The meal is good. You don’t have to be nervous. This is-
This is beyond my wildest dreams. I never thought that you’d like me back.”
“So you did like me too?” Louis asks, his eyes wide with what Harry thinks is
hope. “You didn’t just say yes because you felt sorry for me doing all this?”
“I’ve had a crush on you since the concert.” Harry admits with a blush. “Since
you typed your number into my phone because we kept harmonizing to all the
songs together. I thought you were so cute, but I figured you thought I was
just a stupid, weird little kid.”
“Never.” Louis says, shaking his head. “You being a couple years younger than
me doesn’t bother me. Does- Does it bother you?”
“Nope.” Harry smiles. “I like it. You know a lot of things I don’t yet. You’re
so- So cool. And mature.”
“Never been accused of that before.” Louis snorts.
“That’s because you only let people see the mischievous, bratty part of you.”
Harry says shyly. “They don’t get to see the parts of you that are smart, and
sweet, and brave.”
“You really think I’m all of those things?” Louis asks, his mouth hanging open.
“I don’t just like you because you’re hot Louis.” Harry mumbles, flushing a
deep scarlet because it’s definitely going to take some getting used to. Being
able to say that kind of thing that is. “I like all of you. Those parts of you
may not be the most obvious ones all the time to everyone else, but I know that
they’re the real you. You’re smarter than anyone gives you credit for, and you
were so nice to me when I was afraid to tell my mum that I’m gay, and it was so
brave of you to drive out here to ask me on a date when you didn’t know if I
liked you. I couldn’t have done that. I’d have been too scared.”
“You also can’t drive yet.” Louis grins.
“Don’t get cheeky with me Lou.” Harry huffs. “I was trying to have a moment.”
“I know.” Louis sighs. “But I’m not good at things like that. I get all
flustered and I don’t know what to say, so I make jokes. I try to cut the
tension before it can really get to me.”
“It’s okay.” Harry smiles. “I like you anyways.”
 
“I probably need to get you inside before your mother thinks I’m debauching you
in here.” Louis laughs, drumming on the steering wheel. “It’ll look better for
us if we get you back inside a few minutes early.”
“Probably.” Harry nods. “But I don’t want tonight to end yet, and I’ll probably
be asleep by the time you get home.”
“I don’t want it to be over yet either.” Louis says sheepishly. “But your mum
kind of scares me, and I don’t want her to be cross with me.”
“Will you walk me to the door?” Harry asks, hoping the streetlight isn’t
casting enough light to show the blush on his cheeks.
“Of course. Wait right there.” Louis grins, hopping out of the car and running
around to the other side. He opens the door for Harry, holding out his hand to
help the younger boy up, and then quietly lacing their fingers together. It’s
enough to renew the blush on Harry’s cheeks, but he buries his face in his
bouquet to hide it this time.
“I had a really good time tonight.” Harry mumbles when they reach the front
step.
“I did too.” Louis beams. Harry leans forward, letting his eyes flutter shut as
his lips pucker in anticipation of the kiss goodnight. He squeaks when instead
of his mouth, Louis presses a peck to his cheek. “Not tonight Harry. I’ll only
give you a proper snog if you go out with me again. That one’ll knock your
socks off.”
“When?” Harry asks eagerly.
“My mum might let me borrow the car again next weekend if I promise to do a
bunch of extra chores.” Louis tells him. “So will you?”
“Yes.” Harry grins. “Of course.”
“Until next week then Styles.” Louis smirks.
“Okay.” Harry nods, watching as Louis walks back to his car, throwing one last
look back at Harry and ending their night together with a wink that sends a
tingle from Harry’s scalp all the way down to his toes.
 
“God, you are so fucking hot.” Louis growls, pressing Harry up against the door
and kissing him hard. Harry can feel Louis’ prick rubbing against him through
the fabric of the loose shorts that they’re both wearing. He lets a moan loose,
and Louis licks into his mouth when his lips part from it. They break apart to
breathe after an eternity, but they’re still glued together from their chests
down. “How long are Anne and Robin gone for?”
“A couple of hours at least.” Harry breathes out. “Can- Can we have- Have-”
“Only if you think you’re ready Harry.” Louis murmurs. “Don’t think we have to
do it.”
“I want to.” Harry says firmly, barely managing to cover the nerves that are
practically shaking him to pieces. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Have you ever done this before?” Louis asks, slipping his hands down to
Harry’s hips. His thumbs just barely move over the skin at the top of Harry’s
pants, but it feels like they spread fire through his whole body.
“No.” Harry admits. “So- So be gentle with me okay?”
“Of course Love.” Louis purrs before recapturing Harry’s lips in a softer kiss
that lasts only a fleeting moment. “Do you have what we need?”
“My mum bought me condoms last year when she gave me the talk, and I bought
some lube a little while ago for this.” Harry tells him. “Is- Is that
everything we need?”
“Yeah.” Louis nods. He slips his hands under the fabric of Harry’s shirt
lifting it slowly while he looks to Harry for confirmation. When the younger
boy nods, Louis shucks it up and to the side. His own follows quickly behind,
and then he’s back on Harry in an instant, skin against skin in a way that
Harry has never felt before. It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
Louis steers them towards the bed, walking Harry backwards slowly until they
lower onto the duvet. They kiss slowly for a while, breathing each other in and
working up the nerve to take things to the next level. The furthest they’ve
gone so far has been a few heavy make out sessions, the last one of which ended
when Harry came in his pants from Louis grinding against him in the back of the
car. He’d been mortified, but Louis had told him it was alright and that it
‘Happens to the best of us.’
Now though, it’s out there, and Harry wants to do this, wants to give himself
to Louis because he’s so in love, and that’s what you’re supposed to do when
you’re in love. That doesn’t stop him from squeaking when Louis’ hands dip
beneath the fabric of his shorts to ease them down though. “What if I get naked
first? Would that make it easier?” Louis asks.
“Yeah.” Harry agrees after a moment of thinking about it. “If that’s alright.”
“It’s fine.” Louis chuckles. He climbs backwards off of the bed, fitting his
thumbs into the waistband of his own shorts. He doesn’t bother easing them off,
instead choosing to drop both his shorts and his briefs to the ground in one
swift motion that leaves him bare. He doesn’t seem nervous, and he doesn’t have
any reason to be Harry supposes.
He’s not as big as Harry is, he’s more compact in every way, but he’s beautiful
nonetheless. His skin is this amazing golden brown, flawless and smooth all the
way around. He gives a quick turn, Harry’s eyes nearly popping out of his head
when he sees the arse he’s been wanking to in all its true glory. “Like what
you see Styles?”
“Yeah.” Harry croaks out. “Should I go now?”
“Would you mind if I took them off for you?” Louis asks.
“No, that sounds good.” Harry says, feeling dizzy at the prospect. He doesn’t
know how to feel. He’s nervous and excited, happy and scared. His whole body
feels a thousand times more sensitive than normal. Everything is moving so
fast, and yet not fast enough at the same time.
Louis’ fingers grip the fabric and he pulls it down slowly until Harry has
nothing left between him and the air except for a pair of tented boxer-briefs.
“You good?” Louis asks as he grabs ahold of the elastic.
“Do it.” Harry says quietly, lifting up his hips to help the process along.
Louis doesn’t look at him until the pants are on the floor, and when he does,
his eyes go wide. “Shit! You’re bloody massive!”
“Am I?” Harry asks. He’s never seen any other dick besides his own, Louis’ just
now, and some in a few dirty videos he’s seen online. They seem about the same
size most of the time, except for Louis’.
“It’s a thing of fucking beauty.” Louis grins wickedly. “Holy shit Styles. I
never would have guessed.”
“Well stop talking about it!” Harry whines, burying his face in his hands to
hide his embarrassed flush. It doesn’t do much good though. He can feel it
spread down to his neck and chest, giving him away mercilessly.
“Don’t know why you’re being so shy.” Louis hums, climbing back up Harry’s
body. “I’d walk around with it hanging out for the world to see if I had a cock
that great.”
“Lou.” Harry whimpers.
“Fine. We’ll stop talking about it.” Louis says gently, removing Harry’s hands
from his face. “I have a quick question though, do you man-scape, or are you
naturally this hairless?”
“It’s natural.” Harry mumbles. “I did shave my legs once, to see how it would
feel, but it itched really badly when it all grew back so I didn’t do it
again.”
“Fucking hell that’s hot.” Louis growls, ducking down and pressing Harry into
the mattress with a hard snog. Their dicks brush against each other and Harry’s
whole body gives a shiver while a moan rips out of his throat. It’s better than
anything Harry has ever felt before. “Alright, roll over onto your stomach and
I’ll start opening you up, okay?”
“O-Okay.” Harry squeaks out. He flips over, letting Louis spread his legs open.
He feels so exposed, so silly, and he has to bury his face in the pillow to
keep from letting his nerves and embarrassment show. He hears the drawer slide
open, and then the extremely distinctive sound of a cap snapping open.
“Alright, you need to relax a bit, or this is going to hurt.” Louis says
softly, cupping one side of Harry’s bum in his hand and pushing it to the side
to get better access.
“I am.” Harry lies. How could he be relaxed? He’s finally about to lose his
virginity to Louis, the boy he loves. Anyone would be more than a little
nervous and excited, right? The tip of Louis’ finger prods at his hole, and
Harry clenches reflexively before forcing himself to loosen up and mutter
“Sorry. Sorry, I’ll relax.”
“I’m not going to hurt you Harry.” Louis tells him. “Tell me if it feels bad,
okay?”
“Okay.” Harry agrees, gasping when Louis’ finger pushes in. It doesn’t hurt
exactly, but it does feel weird. He’d meant to try this himself, but he always
got too nervous. He found out after they started dating that Louis has done
this before, so he just decided to let the older boy help him figure it out. It
feels even weirder when Louis starts moving his finger in and out. His body
doesn’t quite know what to do with the sensation, and it chooses to tremble a
little. Harry makes sure not to clamp down on Louis’ finger though. He can do
that much.
Suddenly Louis does something, and it’s like a bolt of lightning shoots up
Harry’s spine. His body spasms, fingers clenching in the duvet and his neck
snaps back as he moans loudly. “What- What was that?” he asks shakily as Louis
chuckles.
“That right there is the reason people enjoy bottoming.” Louis laughs. “It’s
called your prostate. It creates the liquid that makes jizz a bit watery. It
also happens to be the male equivalent of a g-spot.”
“Holy shit.” Harry mumbles, slumping back down onto the bed. “Feels amazing.”
“I’m going to put in another finger now, alright?” Louis asks.
“Yeah, okay.” Harry nods. This one is a bit more uncomfortable, but Louis
brushes over that spot again, and Harry shivers from the pleasure. It more than
makes up for the strange sensation of being stretched open.
“You’re doing so good.” Louis murmurs. “Almost ready for me.”
“I- I think I’m ready now Lou.” Harry tells him after a few more moments of
Louis steadily moving his fingers apart.
“Yeah- Yeah, good.” Louis mutters. “Get up on your hands and knees for me?”
Harry shifts himself up like Louis asked, turning his head and watching as
Louis opens up a condom and rolls it on. He adds a bit more lube, then
positions himself behind Harry. He starts to press inside and Harry hisses
because it’s painful as hell. “Shh, it’s alright Love. It’ll stop hurting once
I’m all the way inside.” Louis tells him. Harry’s breath hitches in his throat,
but he manages to make himself stay still while Louis pushes further in. Louis’
hips pull up flush against his bum and the older boy moans “God- You feel so
good Harry.”
He waits a minute to let Harry adjust before he makes a few shallow thrusts. It
doesn’t hurt so badly now. It’s not much different from the fingers really,
except he feels fuller, more stretched out. Louis starts thrusting faster, his
grunts layering with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Occasionally he
brushes over Harry’s prostate, which causes the younger boy to shiver and moan.
“God- Fuck!” Louis growls, draping himself over Harry’s back as he pumps in
harder, pressing soft, sloppy kisses to the bottom of Harry’s neck. His
movements become choppy, erratic, and he groans loudly, burying himself inside
Harry as he whispers out “I love you.”
It’s the first time either of them have said it out loud, and it’s enough to
push Harry over the edge, sobbing as he cums hard onto his duvet with his hand
pumping furiously. Louis pulls out, slumping over to the side and onto his
back. Harry goes to cuddle him, to say “I love you too.”, but Louis just pecks
him on the lips and says that they need to clean up in case Harrys mum comes
home early.
Harry doesn’t let that get to him though, because Louis loves him. He even said
it first. That’s all that matters.
 
“I did it! I made it in!” Harry squeals, finding himself grabbed up in a group
hug by his mum, Gemma, Robin, and Louis all at once. They’re all laughing and
smiling and offering their congratulations. He’s not sure, but he thinks he’s
crying. He knows he’s definitely at least shaking. It’s all so surreal.
“Can’t believe that twat had the audacity to say no.” Louis grumbles when they
all break apart. “Giving a bad name to all us ‘Louis’s out there. Bloody idiot
he is.”
“Congrats Bug.” Gemma beams at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead that he
just knows has left a mark. He’s too elated to care though. He’d perform with
her lip-gloss on his face for the rest of the competition if that’s what it
took.
“My baby!” Anne coos, wrapping him up in her arms again, despite the fact that
the rest of them have collectively agreed to let up. “Oh, I can’t believe
you’re leaving, but I’m so proud.”
“We’re all proud.” Robin agrees. “You blew them away out there.”
“Thank you guys.” Harry smiles. “And Lou, thank you so much for letting me do
this.”
“You’d better win and prove both of us right.” Louis smirks, clapping him on
the shoulder. “You’re going to though. I can feel it.”
“You really think I can win?” Harry asks nervously.
“I know it Curls.” Louis grins. “You sang it better than Stevie did himself.”
“Did not.” Harry mumbles, a bashful flush lighting up his cheeks.
“Walsh was right about the confidence though. You’re gonna need to get a handle
on that. If you do, then nobody will even be able to compete with you.” Louis
chuckles. “We’ll see you after your exit interview. You did good Curly. Own
it.”
“Own it.” Harry echoes with a nod. “I can do that.”
 
“You should do it.” Louis sighs.
“No. Louis, I love you. I don’t-” Harry argues.
“Harry, you need to do this.” Louis says adamantly. “You’ve worked so hard for
this. I’m not saying we should break up, but you can’t let this stand in the
way.”
“I’m not going to give you up just for a record deal Louis.” Harry huffs. “I’ll
find a different way.”
“I don’t want to break up either. I just think you should stay in the closet
until you’ve made a big enough name for yourself that it won’t matter anymore.”
Louis tells him. “It won’t be forever. Just a few years.”
“I might not even win.” Harry points out.
“You’re going to win Harry.” Louis scoffs. “You’re Britain’s golden boy.
Everybody loves you. Tomorrow night, yours is the name they’re going to read
out, and you’ll finally get what you deserve. You have to do everything you can
to keep this dream alive, for both of us. I’m not letting you throw it away
over me. You need to stay closeted.”
“We’ll still be together though, right?” Harry asks, his voice on the edge of
begging.
“Of course.” Louis grins. “I’m not letting go of you. We’ll get through this
Harry. I promise.”
“Say it again.” Harry requests.
“We’ll get through this. I promise.” Louis repeats, pressing a soft kiss to
Harry’s lips. “I love you Curly.”
“Love you too Lou-Lou.” Harry giggles.
 
“I’m so tired Lou.” Harry groans, flopping down onto his shitty hotel bed and
sighing with relief, because at least it’s a solid surface and he doesn’t have
to stand anymore. Or move. He really can’t imagine moving.
“Thirteen shows in eight days will do that.” Louis chuckles through the mobile
connection.
“I’m having a bit of trouble remembering why I wanted this.” Harry mumbles,
shifting just enough to let his face slip to the side so that Louis can
actually hear him speak rather than his words being muffled by the mattress.
“It’s not even my tour. Like, I’m not on stage for the amount of time I will be
for my own concerts because there are a bunch of other people too. How am I
going to do this by myself?”
“You’re just starting out Curly.” Louis laughs. “You’ll get used to it soon
enough. What’s it like on stage?”
“It’s amazing.” Harry admits, feeling guilty that Louis isn’t getting to
experience it too, because it’s still his dream, even if he let Harry have it
instead. “There’s so much energy. It’s like- It’s like all the screams and
stuff charge my batteries or something. When I’m out there I feel like a
superhero.”
“You kind of are you know.” Louis says quietly. “You’re amazing Harry.”
“Are you still coming on Friday?” Harry asks tentatively.
“Your mum, Gemma, Robin, and I are meeting up there.” Louis tells him. “Not
missing my boyfriend’s seventeenth birthday, am I?”
“I just wanted to make sure.” Harry smiles. “I won’t really be able to see you
guys until after the show, so it’s going to be late. And I’m probably going to
be cranky and tired if the last few days are any indication.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take you into the loo at the restaurant and blow you to
improve your mood.” Louis hums.
“That might work.” Harry grins.
 
“This is it.” Louis squeals once the realtor steps out to take a call. “It’s
perfect!”
“You think so?” Harry asks, looking over the paperwork he’ll have to sign and
rubbing at his temple. He’s only just barely turned eighteen for Christ’s sake.
It’s going to take him days to figure all this out.
“Don’t you?” Louis scoffs. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s expensive.” Harry counters.
“You are a full on celebrity millionaire Styles.” Louis huffs.
“And this house costs double what I’ve made so far. It’s half a million pounds
over the budget we set.” Harry sighs. “I’m not saying no. I’m not. I like this
place, and if you want it, then I’m more than happy to buy it. But we need to
be absolutely sure that this is the one before I do that Lou. Don’t you think
it’s a bit much?”
“Not really.” Louis shrugs. “You’ve seen my mum’s house. I’ve been cramped into
too small spaces with too many people for most of my life. I’d like some room
to spread my legs for once.”
“Forty-five hundred square feet is a bit more room than your legs take up.”
Harry mutters. “If it’s really what you want though, then we’ll do it. But
you’re going to be the one writing out all the forms. My wrist hurts just
looking at this.”
“Come on.” Louis says with a wicked grin, grabbing Harry by the wrist and
tugging him through the maze of a house until they reach the bedroom again. He
closes the door and then presses Harry up against it. “Stay quiet.”
“Lou, no, we can’t.” Harry groans.
“It’s our house Harry. We can do whatever we like.” Louis hums, palming at
Harry through his jeans. It feels good is the thing, insanely good, but they
can’t get caught. The realtor thinks that Louis is Harry’s mate, a friend
who’ll be living with him and watching the house when Harry is on tour.
Catching them with Harry’s dick in Louis’ mouth will probably refute that
story.
“It’s not our house yet.” Harry reminds him.
“It will be though.” Louis chuckles, sinking down to his knees. “We’re going to
have a house Harry. Our own house. A place for just the two of us to have our
own life together. That turns me on.”
“Everything turns you on.” Harry scoffs. “You got horny watching The Great
British Bake Off last night.”
“What can I say? Reminds me of my favorite amateur baker.” Louis smirks.
“I was a professional.” Harry hisses, trying desperately not to buck his hips
as Louis mouths over the bulge in his jeans. “I got paid to bake. That means I
wasn’t an amateur.”
“You got paid to smile at old ladies while you made coffee.” Louis snorts.
“I will have you know-” Harry starts.
“Yeah, yeah. Best macarons in Cheshire County.” Louis supplies with a roll of
his eyes. “Shut up and let me suck you off now.”
“Mr. Styles?” comes a call through the door. It’s not right on the other side,
but he can tell that she’s moving closer. “Is everything all right?”
Harry panics, hoisting Louis up off the floor and then walking a bit away to
make it look like he’s been taking in the view. Louis perches himself on the
edge of the bed just as the realtor walks in. “Are you having second thoughts
about the location?” she asks, blessedly oblivious to what had been going on
only seconds before.
“No.” Harry says, shaking his head. “I’ll take it.”
“We were just having a bit of a row over who gets this bedroom.” Louis chirps,
slipping into a lie so easily that it’s startling. “He thinks that because he’s
buying the place, I get stuck in one of the other rooms while he gets this
pretty view all to himself, but who’s the one who’ll be living here and doing
the upkeep for more than just six months a year? Me. What do you think Love?”
“I have to side with my client.” she chuckles, batting her eyelashes towards
Louis in a way that makes Harry’s stomach clench and the blood drain out of his
face.
“What’s see if I can’t change your mind over a cuppa while Curly gets started
on the paperwork?” Louis hums, crossing from the bed in an instant because his
charms work even better up close. He’s got one arm on the wall behind her, his
body leaned in close as a playful smirk crosses over his features.
“Hey!” Harry protests before he can realize how strange it must seem, his mind
too thrown by Louis’ flirting to remember the story they’ve told. Louis gives
him a sharp look and a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘Just keeping up
appearances.’, but that isn’t what it feels like. Harry’s whole body is
threatening to become overwhelmed by the tight knot of nausea in his stomach.
The realtor looks startled by Harry’s outburst, a sheepish blush covering her
cheeks as she ducks to the side and away from Louis. “Um- Sorry- I- I was just
wondering if we could negotiate the price down somewhat?”
“I’m afraid the seller is very set on the price.” she frowns. “He’s already
turned down three other offers, one of which was only a few thousand pounds
under asking.”
“I should have expected that.” Harry sighs. “It’s fine. The place is worth it I
guess. Alright, show me what I have to fill out to make an official offer.”
“And then we can continue our discussion.” Louis says quietly, not that it
stops the words from reaching Harry’s ears. “And we’ll see who you really think
deserves the big bedroom.”
 
“Hey Baby.” Louis giggles, stumbling into their hotel room. Harry stops his
furious pacing, his lip worried through so badly that he can taste the coppery
tang of blood. It’s half three in the morning. Harry literally hasn’t seen
Louis in twelve hours, and the older lad has had his phone shut off for nine of
them.
Harry is torn between being livid, and being relieved. He decides to keep his
voice neutral when he asks “Where have you been?”
“That cuppa turned into dinner and then a club.” Louis shrugs, struggling to
pull his t-shirt over his head. “But she definitely doesn’t think we’re
together now.”
“Did- Did you have sex with her?” Harry asks weakly, his voice wavering in a
decidedly non-neutral way now.
“Nah.” Louis grins. “Danced a bit. Had a good chat. Didn’t fuck her though.”
“But you wanted to.” Harry finishes for him.
“Just because I love you and your cock doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally think
about women Styles. I’m not gay, I’m bi, and yeah, that means that sometimes I
want to fuck a bird.” Louis tells him matter-of-factly. “It’s not cheating to
fantasize.”
“How drunk are you right now?” Harry asks.
“Not enough to find this conversation worth having.” Louis scoffs, heading
towards the mini-bar and pulling out a variety of several tiny bottles. He
opens one up and downs it easily before starting on another.
“Lou, please, just come to bed.” Harry sighs. They can talk about all of this
in the morning. Now Harry knows Louis is safe, that he didn’t cheat, and that’s
enough for tonight. He’s too physically and emotionally exhausted to handle any
more of this.
“’M not ready.” Louis shrugs. “I’ll keep extra quiet though, so you can sleep.”
“Lou, please.” Harry begs, crossing the room and giving Louis’ elbow a tug
towards the bed.
“I said no!” Louis yells. Harry never sees it coming. He couldn’t imagine it
happening until his eyes are pointed at the floor and the taste of blood in his
mouth is a lot more prevalent than it was a minute ago. His ears are ringing
and his eyes are starting to water as the pain begins to make itself known.
“Shit! Harry, Baby, I’m so sorry. I-”
“Don’t touch me!” Harry hisses, flinching away when Louis tries to lift his
face back up.
“Harry, I swear- I- I didn’t mean to do it. You have to believe me.” Louis
pleads, his eyes looking all too sober now. “I’m so, so sorry Baby.”
“You- You hit me.” Harry slurs out, his mouth feeling like fire from where the
slap caused his teeth to tear a gash on the inside of his cheek.
“I didn’t mean to.” Louis whimpers, tears starting to build in the corners of
his eyes. “Please- Please, you have to know I never meant to do it. I wasn’t
thinking Harry. I’m drunk. I’d never hurt you.”
“It’s okay.” Harry sighs. “I mean, it’s not okay, but I know you didn’t mean it
Lou.”
“I didn’t. I promise I didn’t.” Louis sniffles, coming closer and examining the
mark on Harry’s cheekbone. “God, I’m so sorry Baby. I’ll never do it again.”
 
By the tenth time it happens, Harry knows that it isn’t an accident anymore.
It’s worse than that. It’s Harry’s own fault. He’s the one who drove Louis to
this. He’s the one who deserves it. “This is what it feels like when you’re
gone!” Louis spits, hurling his half-empty beer bottle at the wall somewhere
behind Harry’s head. “It hurts Harry! All the time!”
“Lou, please, calm down.” Harry pleads, keeping himself small because Louis
doesn’t like to be challenged when he’s like this. He has to try though. Last
time he just let Louis keep going, they’d had to replace two floor-to-ceiling
windows in their bedroom after their telly had gone through them.
“I’m not done talking!” Louis roars, his knuckles connecting with the side of
Harry’s jaw and sending him crashing to the floor. Louis is small, but he’s
strong. He has more muscle than you’d guess from looking at his wiry frame.
Harry knows it well though. He knows exactly how much power Louis has. “Fuck,
do you ever shut up?”
“Lou-” Harry whimpers.
“I said shut up!” Louis snarls, lashing out with his shoe-clad foot and
catching Harry across the ribs. Pain explodes inside Harry’s chest, but he
can’t cry out. He can barely breathe. Fire burns him from the inside out when
he tries to scoot away, anchoring him in place. Louis grabs a fistful of his
fringe, yanking to twist his head back up. “Where the fuck do you think you’re
going? Don’t leave me alone enough as is already?”
“I can’t breathe.” Harry gasps out, his entire body heaving with the effort of
just those three words. Louis rolls his eyes and pushes Harry back onto the
floor. He peels back the younger boy’s shirt and sneers at the rapidly blooming
spot of purple growing over the ribs underneath.
“Get to the hospital and have that taken care of. And don’t call a fucking
ambulance. I don’t want to be woken up by the damn siren.” Louis growls,
standing up and stalking off back to their bedroom before slamming the door
shut.
 
“I’m sorry that this is taking so long Mr. Styles.” the nurse says carefully,
attempting to keep her head down though Harry can tell she’s staring. “Most of
the staff is gone at night, so things run a bit slower.”
“It’s fine Love, I can wait.” Harry tells her, drifting on a cloud of
painkillers that the doctor had given him a little while ago. It’s still hard
to breathe, but the pain is mostly gone and that makes all the difference right
now. Driving to the hospital by himself had been a task of herculean effort,
and by the time he’d pulled up in front of the A&E doors, he’d been crying
silently for at least ten minutes because when he shook from the sobs it just
hurt worse.
He told the admitting nurse that he’d fallen down a flight of stairs because
he’d been too stubborn to turn on the hall-light. She’d bought it apparently,
so nobody has asked any questions yet about the fist shaped bruise on Harry’s
jaw. It’s a small blessing for a night where Harry feels like he’s in hell.
Everyone has been really kind to him so far, and it’s making part of him want
to follow their recommendations and stay overnight. But he knows better. Louis
was right. Harry leaves him alone far too much already.
So he leaves against the doctor’s recommendations, because his organs are fine
and there’s no immediate danger, dropping the bottle of pain pills they’d given
him into the bin on the way out. Louis would just end up taking them anyways.
Harry is sober enough to drive home after the hours since his first and only
dose of medication, though it takes longer than it usually would because he
keeps having to pull over to breathe and scratch at the bandage digging into
his side that’s keeping his injury steady. Louis is spread out over the
mattress when Harry makes it upstairs, so the younger lad just takes a pillow
from the guest room and lays down for the night on the floor. The pain in his
chest is his penance.
 
Harry learns to cook in his spare time while his ribs heal. It’s partially to
keep from having to go out with his face still bruised up, but mostly because
having something to focus on brings him a sense of calm. He still works out as
much as he can manage, but his capacity for it has been diminished because when
he pushes to hard he risks his ribs not healing properly. His lungs also aren’t
up to par yet for trying to record his new album, but the label has been very
understanding after the accident, so nobody is pressuring him to get a move on
for the moment.
Cooking is a good way to numb himself, to fixate on something to the point
where the pain slides away. He breathes easier when he forgets how much his
body screams at him. It also lets him control exactly what goes into him, lets
him keep himself healthy through a lack of toxins rather than through the
vigorous exercise he would normally do if his body were healthy.
When Louis suggested having Harry’s family over for dinner after he’d taught
himself a few basic meals, Harry couldn’t turn him down. Louis had finally
looked proud of Harry again, and that made his heart swell. Maybe not
everything he does is wrong still. He’s been trying so hard to be better for
Louis, but he wasn’t sure he was even taking a step in the right direction
until now.
He’s prepared for tonight meticulously, making sure they only have two bottles
of wine in the house. He’s learned Louis’ limits, the tipping points in his
behavior where he goes from being cheeky and fun, to letting everything out. He
can handle two glasses of wine before his mood starts to turn, and Harry has
measured it out exactly so that they’ll each have just that much.
Of course his mother brings another bottle, but Harry had planned for that too.
He’d told her that he was making chicken, but he’d never really planned on it.
Instead he makes a roast. It’s supposed to pair with red wine, which is what
Harry has, and not the white which his mother had brought for the fabricated
meal-plan.
Of course Louis is having none of it, insisting that “Nobody here cares what
kind of wine goes best with it Curly. Go open your mother’s lovely gift. You’re
the one that let the chicken go bad. It’s not her fault that you didn’t tell
her ahead of time that things had been switched.”
He goes back to the kitchen, uncorking the wine with trembling fingers while he
rings a car service. The original plan was for everyone to stay over in the
guest rooms and leave in the morning, but Harry doesn’t want them to see Louis
the way he’ll be soon, doesn’t want them to think less of him for Harry’s
mistakes. He’s set up hotel rooms and cars to bring them back when they check
out to pick up their own vehicle, as well as one pick them up in half an hour
from now.
“Took you long enough.” Louis chuckles jovially when Harry returns to the
dining room.
“If it’s not going to pair right, it should at least be allowed to breathe.”
Harry hums, feigning calm as he pours out a glass for each of them, making sure
to give Louis the smallest amount possible without it being noticeable in order
to reduce the risk.
“Aren’t you having any?” Gemma laughs. “Or have your tastes become too refined
for this sort of thing now? Eating without a proper pairing and all that?”
“Actually, I’m not feeling well.” Harry tells her, folding up his napkin and
setting it aside. “I’ve set up some hotel rooms and a car service for you guys.
I don’t think I’ll be in any shape in the morning to be a proper host for you
guys in the morning. You know how fast I get sick once it starts.”
“That’s fine Darling. We’re more than happy to-” Anne starts.
“Mum, I promise, I’ll be fine. I just need some rest. You guys just enjoy the
rest of dinner. The car will be here soon to pick you up, and everything is
already paid for by me.” Harry cuts her off. He turns to Louis and adds “Leave
the dishes for me. I’ll take care of them tomorrow, I promise.”
“I’ll get them Love.” Louis chuckles, taking a large drink off of his glass.
“You just go sleep. I’ll take the guest room tonight so I don’t disturb you.”
“Thanks.” Harry nods. He gives everyone a hug good night, getting a chorus of
‘Feel better’s from his mum and Robin and Gemma.
Harry is halfway up the stairs when he hears Anne ask “How are his ribs doing?”
“As good as can be expected.” Louis replies. “You know how he is though.
Stubborn, and clumsy as all hell. I’ll take care of him though. Don’t you worry
yourself over him.”
 
“What the fuck are you wearing?” a voice sneers behind him, causing Harry to
freeze. Fuck. Louis wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. He wasn’t supposed to
see Harry like this. Nobody is. “Are those fucking panties?”
“I- Um-” Harry stammers, looking around for anything he can find to cover
himself up. He grabs the towel he’d used after his shower earlier, wrapping it
around his waist and holding it with one hand. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about
it. Just- Just forget about it please.”
“Why the fuck are you wearing panties?” Louis scoffs, ignoring Harry’s plea.
“That something you picked up from one of the other blokes you’re fucking?”
“I’ve never cheated on you Louis.” Harry bites out in frustration. It’s
something that Louis has been accusing him more and more often of lately, and
Harry isn’t sure how many times it’s going to take for him to understand that
it’s true. He knows now that Louis has slept with other people when Harry’s
been on tour, and he’s accepted it. He’s the one leaving someone behind, and if
Louis needs that to not feel so lonely, to not leave Harry, then it’s worth it.
But Harry isn’t going to do it. He’s never even considered it. “You know I
wouldn’t do that. They’re just- They’re just something I do sometimes when I’m
alone. Sometimes I need to feel like I look nice because people are always
saying so much shit about me, and my hair, and my clothes. And no matter how
hard I push my body, and how little I eat, people still pick at things like my
love handles. It gets to me, even though I try not to let it.”
“Oh poor you.” Louis huffs. “Not every fucking person on the planet thinks
you’re magical. Boo-fucking-hoo. You couldn’t have possibly thought fame was
going to be all fun and games could you?”
“No, but-” Harry starts.
“But you can’t handle it, so you’ve had some sort of mental breakdown and wear
women’s underwear.” Louis says, reaching forward and tearing the towel out of
Harry’s grip to expose him once more. “For god’s sake Harry. You’re a man. You
may not always look like one, but you’ve got that big fucking cock for a
reason. Act like it.”
“I won’t wear them again.” Harry mumbles, hooking his fingers under the lace to
peel them off.
“Might as well get a good fuck out of you while you’re in them.” Louis smirks,
grabbing Harry by the wrist and tugging him out of the closet and towards the
bed. From the second Louis’ fingers close around his arm, Harry shuts down,
going into the near-catatonic state he’s learned to enter since the night three
of his ribs were fractured a few months ago. It’s easier not to argue, not to
deny Louis the ability to vent the frustrations and pain that Harry causes him.
He bends Harry over the mattress and leaves him there, knowing full well that
the younger lad won’t move even an inch. He’s back a few seconds later and his
hand rolls the fabric down Harry’s ass. Harry is pretty sure that he hears the
fabric tear, but he doesn’t want to look back to check. Instead his eyes focus
on one spot on the wall where it meets the ceiling. A bit of dust has gathered
there since Harry fired the maid. He didn’t want anyone else exposed to Louis’
drunken tirades, and the older boy doesn’t seem to care anymore when the rest
of the world finds it appropriate to be drinking. If he wants alcohol with
breakfast, then he’ll have it, regardless of Harry’s or anyone else’s opinions
on the subject.
It’s not like he does this every day. Most days Louis is still the same loving
boy Harry has been with for almost three years. He’s funny and content. Then
sometimes he gets like this. He has a few drinks and all the things Harry has
done to him bubble up to the surface. In those moments Harry remembers a phrase
that he’d learned from someone when he was younger. ‘In Vino Veritas.’ In wine
there is truth. This is the truth of what Louis feels, how he suffers, and
Harry is willing to take on anything to relieve that.
So he stays calm for Louis, relaxed and passive to give him what he wants. He
moans when Louis pushes into him, even though it hurts from a complete lack of
preparation, because Louis likes him loud. He echoes what Louis wants him to
say when prompted. “I’m a dirty slut.” “You fuck me so good.” “My pussy is only
for you.”
The words don’t matter. If anything, they help. He needs to degrade himself. He
needs to remind himself how much pain he’s put the person that he loves more
than anything through over the last few years. He’s more than willing to give
whatever Louis wants to take if it helps heal all the hurt that Harry has dealt
him.
 
“Can we talk?” Louis asks quietly, his voice smaller than Harry remembers it
for ages. Smaller than it has been since that first time he started showing
Harry how much he’s been suffering.
“Of course.” Harry nods dutifully.
“I- I’ve been awful lately, haven’t I?” Louis asks, tears already prickling at
the corners of his eyes. “Like, truly awful.”
“Lou-” Harry sighs.
“Don’t lie to me Harry.” Louis mutters. “I- I don’t always remember what I do
to you, but I see the bruises. I see the way you flinch when I reach towards
you. I know you were lying when you said that you hurt your ribs by falling
down the stairs.”
“You get upset, and that’s fair.” Harry mumbles. “I leave you alone all the
time. I don’t call you as much as I should. I expect you to drop everything
when I get back and just be mine, even though I’m never around. It’s hard on
you, and that gets to you.”
“It does.” Louis says softly. “But I still shouldn’t be doing any of that. I- I
want to quit drinking. I just don’t think I can do it alone.”
“Then we’ll do it together.” Harry tells him. “I’ll stop drinking too. No more
wine with, or in, dinner. No more pubs or clubs. No more alcohol. Both of us
will quit.”
“Are- Would you really do that?” Louis asks tentatively. “I know how important
networking is in your field.”
“It’s not more important than us Lou.” Harry murmurs. “I know that together we
can kick this.”
“I um- Can you go get rid of the alcohol from the kitchen then?” Louis
requests. “If I try to do it, then I’ll end up hiding a bottle, or drinking
some. I know it.”
“Of course.” Harry agrees again. Anything to help Louis. “Do you mind if we go
see Zayn afterwards?”
“Not really. You haven’t met his cute new assistant yet. Any particular reason
though?” Louis asks.
“Got something in mind for a new tattoo.” Harry smiles.
 
Louis’ first relapse happens less than a week after they decided to stop
drinking. Harry helps him through it, forgives him. It was never going to be an
easy road, and they both knew that going in. So he takes his lumps, his penance
for driving Louis down this road in the first place, and dumps out the rest of
the bottle of vodka once Louis passes out.
His second relapse is after almost a fortnight, a full ten days that Louis
makes it, and Harry is so proud of him. Then he comes home, and Harry can smell
Louis before he sees him. It’s more than alcohol, though that’s clearly present
by the tang in the air. It’s the sickly sweet aroma of weed, and the
unmistakable stench of sex too. At least he’s calm, the marijuana mellowing him
out more than the alcohol releases his anger. Harry forgives him again.
Mistakes are bound to happen.
It only takes four days until Louis stumbles again. This time he’s well and
truly furious. Harry hasn’t needed to go catatonic in weeks, but it comes back
like second nature while Louis patterns Harry’s arms with a web of purpled
marks. In the morning, Harry forgives him.
After another week passes without a slip, Harry lets himself hope that this is
the time that it’ll take, that Louis will be able to resist. He’s proved wrong
the next night, and has to cancel an interview after his eye swells shut. But
Harry forgives him.
Two days later Harry decides to stop hoping that things will change this
easily. That he can help Louis find the right way. He stops believing that he
might deserve the mercy that Louis’ sober days grant him. He brought this all
on himself by being selfish, by leaving Louis alone, he remembers. Now that
patch of ink on his arm is just a reminder of his own stupid selfishness,
trying to change Louis when Harry has already hurt him enough. They don’t talk
about sobriety again the next morning, and Harry decides that it’s for the
best.
At least they’re not pretending anymore. Harry is the one who needs to be
forgiven, and that’s obvious now, as it should have always been.
 
“I can’t do it alone Harry.” Louis mumbles.
“I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in almost a year Louis.” Harry tells him. “You
wouldn’t be doing it alone.”
“I don’t just mean staying on the wagon.” Louis sighs, rubbing his hands over
his face. “I mean all of this. I mean all the times when you’re touring and I’m
lonely and jobless. I mean living in this place by myself.”
“Do- Are you asking me to quit my career?” Harry questions.
“No.” Louis says, shaking his head. “You were born for this Harry. What I’m
asking for is a baby. I need somebody who needs me too. I need someone to take
care of who forces me to be the best version of myself. You’re gone for half of
the year making albums and doing tours. I need something to tie us together
when you’re gone.”
“A baby.” Harry repeats dumbly. “You want a baby.”
“I need a baby Harry.” Louis tells him, stressing the word ‘need’ so that Harry
fully comprehends it. “I don’t think I can do this otherwise.”
“We can’t have a baby until you’re actually sober Louis.” Harry says, pushing
back from the table. “I- I can’t expose a child to the way you are when you
drink. Even if you never laid a hand on them, you could forget about them or
something. It’s too dangerous.”
“Do you really think I’d be such a bad father?” Louis asks softly.
“Not if you were sober.” Harry tells him. “You’d be an amazing father if you
could curb this, but so far you’ve never made it more than two weeks without a
drink.”
“Then what if I make it a month?” Louis asks. “Will you consider it?”
“If you can make it a month, I’ll have an appointment with a surrogacy agent
lined up by the next day.” Harry nods. “But that means a month free from
everything Louis. Not just alcohol. No more drugs either, or other sexual
partners. None of it. And it’s not just one month. It has to be a permanent
first step. It has to be this month, and next month, and all the ones after
that. If you slip off the wagon again, then I’m not going to reconsider this.
Not ever. I won’t have a child raised in that environment. It’s not healthy or
safe.”
“I’ll do it. I promise.” Louis breathes out. “I can do this. We can do this.”
 
Louis doesn’t slip. He comes close, needs to call Harry at a few different
points to come get him from wherever he’s ended up before he can make a
mistake. He doesn’t actually slip though. So Harry makes the call, following
through on his word, though he’s still tentative about the entire idea. He
wants this, wants a family with Louis, but he’s still not entirely sure of the
older lad’s ability to refrain from giving in to temptation. Especially when
Harry has to leave soon for a few weeks to finish up the last leg of his
current tour in America.
He’s hurt Louis enough though, has put him through the ringer and broken
promises to him too many times not to keep this one. So here they are, sitting
in the overly-sterile feeling office of a surrogacy agency that Harry’s
solicitor assured him will keep their matters private and has a reputation
beyond reproach. Harry’s fiddling nervously with anything within reach, and
Louis looks like the picture of serenity. He’s calmer than Harry has seen him
in literally years, relaxed and confident. Sobriety fits him well.
He’s different though. He’s not the same as he was before everything started,
but in a good way. He’s developed into more of an adult. Not by much, but by
more than Harry expected at this stage in their lives together. When he was
younger he’d mistaken Louis’ age, and the occasional moment of sincerity, for
maturity. That’s not entirely the case though. Not in the real world. Being an
adult has more to do with controlling yourself, with knowing when and how to
ask for help if you need it, which is something that Louis has never
particularly mastered until lately.
Harry likes the change, likes how Louis has become more reserved. He’s still
brash, can still kick up a shit-storm when the inkling hits him, but now it’s
in the name of fun rather than anything else. Harry has been on the end of more
of Louis’ pranks in the past month than in the last few years combined, but
he’s more than happy to go along with them as long as they keep Louis smiling
and moving forward.
“Surrogacy in the UK is- Complicated.” the man behind the desk tells them.
“There are a lot of restrictions in place around certain things, and almost no
regulation on others. That’s where our agency comes in. The law states that
intended parents, or IPs as they’re known in this industry, cannot pay a
surrogate for the actual service they perform. That, combined with the
surrogate’s legal parental rights towards children they nurture, have created
their fair share of havoc over the last few years. I want to assure you though,
that we have never had such problems.
“While IPs cannot pay a surrogate, they can pay an agency such as ours which is
classified as a Head Hunting organization. We find potential surrogates based
on a range of demanding qualifications, and classify them as employees because
they let our doctors study their pregnancies. All of this for a fee of course.
Our general going rate is eighty-thousand pounds, plus the cost of IVF and
medical coverage for the selected surrogate. Getting a surrogate to sign a non-
disclosure agreement is an additional fee of ten thousand pounds, though you
may take that risk if you like. I wouldn’t recommend it for you two though.”
“No, we’ll definitely require the NDA to be signed.” Harry sighs. “The cost
shouldn’t be a problem. What is the general timeline for this process?”
“We can have potential surrogates selected for you by the end of the day, and
I’ll have their files messengered over for you to have a look through in the
morning.” the man smiles. “First you’ll need to do a questionnaire about what
you’re looking for in the mother of your child. It’s very in depth, and I
recommend that you both think very carefully about the answers you give,
because we have a wide range of candidates and your responses are what helps
narrow it down. After you select someone, things will move a bit faster. You’ll
need to get to know the surrogate, and spend time with the three of you until
you’re all sure that the arrangement will work.”
“I’m leaving at the end of the month to finish up my tour.” Harry informs him.
“I’ll be gone for a few weeks, but when I get back, we’ll be able to get into
things, yeah?”
“Of course Mr. Styles.” he nods.
 
One girl in particular catches their attention. All of the candidates seem like
good people, but this one in particular just seems to call out to Louis. So
they’ve set up a meeting with her, just a lunch to get to know each other and
see if they’re all compatible. Part of Harry wants it to not work out, to help
elongate the process until he’s more assured of Louis’ stability in his
sobriety.
She’s lovely though. Not just physically, though she is undeniably beautiful,
but right down to her core. She has the most genuine smile that Harry has ever
seen in a person, and she offers it without reservation. She’s polite beyond
what Harry ever expected, and smart, though they’d figured that out from the
fact that she’s in university.
“So, why did you get into this?” Harry finally asks, broaching the topic that
the conversation has skirted around until now. “Surrogacy I mean. Your file
said that you’re studying Sociology, and that you make a good income as a model
in your spare time.”
“Harry!” Louis hisses, his eyes going wide with surprise.
“It’s alright.” Eleanor says with a light laugh. “You’re right about me making
a decent living as a model, though I’m only doing that until I finish school. I
don’t need to do this as far as money is concerned. I chose to do it because
there are so many couples out there who can’t have a child for themselves, and
I want to do what I can to help them since I can. I’m young and healthy, and I
feel like I should do whatever I can to improve the lives of the people who
need a little help.”
“Wow.” Louis breathes out. “That’s- That’s amazing.”
Harry has to agree. Most people would probably say something similar in this
situation, but with Eleanor it’s undeniably the truth. She’s so kind that Harry
can feel it radiating off of her in waves that make him want to be a better
person just from being around her. She’s a good person, and Harry might just
love her.
 
The house is still when Harry gets home from the airport, but it doesn’t reek
of anything too strongly, so he takes it as a good sign. Louis might not even
be home. Or he could be sleeping. Quiet doesn’t have to mean bad. In fact the
loud nights tend to be the worst. They’re the ones where Louis is too far gone
to even try to keep himself in control. They’re the ones that end with Harry
wearing long sleeved shirts and makeup he had to teach himself to apply so that
nobody knows his shame.
He drops his suitcase off in the bedroom, noting that Louis isn’t there, but
deciding to unpack later. Right now he just wants to unwind, to shake off the
tightness in his shoulders that always builds up when he’s been on a flight. He
heads straight for the fridge, sighing when he finds what he both feared and
expected, a large case of beer and not a small variety of liquor bottles.
He goes to work quickly, wanting to finish as soon as possible in case Louis is
just somewhere in the house and they haven’t noticed each other yet, or if he
comes home soon. Harry knows how this will end now that Louis has apparently
fallen back into old habits, knows that he’ll be sporting a swollen, purpled
eye in the morning, but he can’t back down on this anymore. He drains bottle
after bottle, wrinkling his nose at the smell of alcohol rising up at him from
the drain. Each clink of glass-on-glass in the bottom of the rubbish bin is a
small victory. It’s Harry standing up for himself, for Louis, for what they
have. It’s Harry saying that he’s not going to just let this happen anymore.
“You should probably keep at least one of those for yourself.” a voice says
behind Harry, making him flinch. For such a loud person, Louis is quiet when he
wants to be.
“I don’t drink anymore Louis. You know that.” Harry mumbles, ignoring the part
of himself that wants to scream about Louis having finally been secure on the
wagon even though he’d been doing so well. The part that wants to rage because
he’d lulled himself into a false sense of security with how much Louis truly
seemed to want to start their family. That’s not a conversation he’s ready to
have.
“You will tonight. That’s why I bought all of that for you.” Louis says
quietly. “We need to talk.”
“You’re not throwing one of your parties here Louis.” Harry sighs. “I’ve told
you before, it’s not happening.”
“Styles will you turn around and look at me?” Louis snaps.
“What?” Harry yells, turning on his heel ready to scream that he’s not going to
stop pouring out the fucking booze. The words fall away as he takes in the
scene in front of him. Louis has a bag slung around his shoulders, and another
large suitcase on either side of him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving Harry.” Louis says quietly, at least having the decency to look
ashamed of himself, his eyes cast down towards the floor rather than up at the
man whose heart he’s breaking. “I- I fell in love with someone, and we’re
moving in together.”
“No!” Harry chokes out. “No, Lou please! We can work this out.”
“I married her Harry. It’s fast, but we spent every day together while you were
gone, and we know that we’re meant to be together.” Louis sighs, rubbing his
temples. The glint of the ring on his finger gives credence to his story, but
Harry doesn’t believe it. He can’t believe it. “It’s over. I waited until today
so that you wouldn’t just come back and find a note or something. I owed you
that.”
“You owe me a hell of a lot more than that!” Harry cries, tears flowing down
his cheeks as he feels himself start to tremble. “You don’t get to just leave
me like this!”
“It’s already done Styles.” Louis shrugs, keeping his eyes glued to the wall.
“This hasn’t been right for a long time now, and we both know it.”
“We were going to have a baby.” Harry whimpers. “What- What did I do?”
“It’s not you. I just fell in love with her. I didn’t mean to, but it happened,
and we got married last night at the courthouse.” Louis mumbles. “For what it’s
worth, I really do love you. I don’t know what happened.”
“Who is it?” Harry asks, though he’s positive he doesn’t want to know the
answer.
“Harry-” Louis starts, but Harry isn’t having it.
“Who the fuck is she Louis?” Harry growls.
“It’s Eleanor.” Louis whispers.
“Go! Just fucking go!” Harry snarls. “Leave four fucking years behind! And fuck
you for thinking it’s worth anything that you love me! If you love me you
wouldn’t have done it Louis. You wouldn’t have done any of the shit you put me
through.”
“Maybe not.” Louis sighs. “Maybe I haven’t loved you for a long time. I should
have though. I know that much.”
“Get out!” Harry wails. He’s breaking apart at the seams, and he needs to let
it out. He needs Louis to leave so that he can scream and cry and let out every
bit of pain mixed with every bit of relief that is tearing him apart in this
second.
Louis nods, picking up his bags and walking out the door without another word.
Harry picks up the closest bottle, hurling it at the wall with everything he
has and watches it explode in slow motion. Glass flies through the air, blowing
out dangerously from the stain running down the wall already. Harry has another
bottle in his hand before a single shard even hits the ground. He throws every
single one that’s left on the counter until he has nothing left.
He sinks to his knees, ignoring the searing pain from the shards that find
their homes in his legs. It’s a good hurt, grounding him to the moment. It
takes away from the storm of agony raging away inside of his chest. One glints
up at him from the floor, long and dangerous, but he turns down the invitation
it offers him. He wasn’t ever even brave enough to leave Louis. There’s no way
he’s brave enough to leave his life. Not even if Louis didn’t once say he was
sorry.
End Notes
     If you got through this, thank you for reading. Also, I'm sorry. I'm
     considering doing one of these bonus chapters around Niall's past,
     but if I do that then I won't post it until after the main story is
     completed. Right now it's just a thought in the back of my mind.
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