home is wherever i’m with you; chapter 12

[prologue][chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [chapter 7] [chapter 8] [chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11 pt.1] [chapter 11 pt.2]

fic summary: louis gives his teacher a blowjob and gets sent to boarding school, where he meets an incredibly young and lanky and adorable harry and basically falls in love with him. 

rating: mature

warnings: i use these thingies now », i’m too american for my own good so excuse my mistakes, a surprising amount of cursing?? sorry!

“It’s just a booth, Harry, it’s not gonna eat you,” Niall mutters as Harry stares at the wooden bench in front of him cautiously. Louis is looking at him sympathetically and Harry has the sudden urge to cry because, fuck, there’s not even a fucking cushion on the thing and his arse hurts.

Harry had been in pain since he’d woken up that morning. Like, serious this-is-so-unbearable-I-can’t-even-sit-still pain.

Louis had been right when he said being rough would hurt the next day, it’s just that it’s hard to care about those sort of things when you’re getting your brains fucked out by possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

The older boy was in a good mood that day, having woken Harry up with a “thanks for letting me take your virginity” blowjob (which, by the way, was fantastic) and gotten off easily from it. Harry had been enjoying it thoroughly until he finished, attempting to sit up and nearly crying out in pain, giving the older boy an accusing glance. What could he say though? ‘I hate you for making my first time an enjoyable experience’?

Louis had given him a weak smile then, helping and hauling him off the bed, giving him a quick kiss as Harry rubbed at his tender back side. (‘At least it was memorable, eh?’)

They’re sitting in a small diner now, one less than ten minutes away from Niall’s house if they walked (which they had to). They’d decided to eat breakfast out after the boys had realized over two dozen hungover zombies had invaded and overpopulated the poor boy’s living room and refused to leave. Or move. Or show any recognition of his existence at all.

Niall had left with a friendly wake up call, reminding them all if they didn’t leave by the time they got back, he’d kick their drunk arses out on the street and sleep like a baby. Most people had been smart enough to leave the night before, but there had been a few stragglers, most of which came uninvited in the first place.

So now, Harry is sat in a cheap diner, at half past ten in the morning, with a sore arse.

The thing is, Harry’s not complaining because he’s trying to play it cool. If countless hours spent watching bad TV and episodes of Skins alone in his room had taught Harry anything, it was that the girl character in this situation - who’d just lost her virginity and had inevitably woken up in an empty bed - would be cuddled in her comforter, eating shit food, moaning about her life problems to her best friend, and taping a bag of frozen peas to her bum.

Harry, however, was not a girl. He was a guy.

And the guy character in this said teen drama would be kicking back with his douchebag football buddies, playing video games and acting like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, because it’s just sex and why should he be fretting over it?

So, Harry put on a brave face, took a generous amount of Advil before he left, and willed himself to not hang all over the love of his teenage life, A.K.A., the boy who took his virginity not twelve hours ago and then cuddled him all night long even though he was totally drooling on his chest.

Harry’s ordered enough food to feed a baby elephant and his fingers haven’t stopped shaking since they got there, partly from the cold and partly (mostly) from his lack of coffee. Louis holds his hand under the table to calm him down and asks him if he feels any better. Harry lies, telling him he can hardly feel a thing.

Louis squeezes his fingers comfortingly, smiling. “Love you,” he says, before promptly being sucked into Zayn and Niall’s conversation about whether liking R&B meant that you questioned your sexuality or not.

Harry doesn’t really care, knowing it’s best to stay out of the argument anyways because Zayn has a weird Ne-Yo obsession and holds those types of things against people.

Across from him Liam is staring sullenly down at his silverware and Harry feels a pang of guilt in his chest. A part of him wants to ask about him and Danielle but he’s pretty sure breakfast would get awkward if Liam started hysterically crying. So instead he promises himself he’ll ask later.

Louis laughs loudly at something Niall’s said and it startles Harry out of his thoughts, glancing over at the older boy from the corner of his eye. He’s got his head tipped back, clapping his hands like he’s never heard anything funnier in his life.

Sometimes Harry feels like he’s melting when he looks at Louis. It’s terrifying to him - the realization that he’s falling deeper in love with him every minute of every day, sinking like fucking quicksand. Harry squeezes his hand, thumb brushing against the thin silver band laying against the inside of his wrist.

Louis looks over at him, eyes softening in a way meant only for him, and Harry wonders if Louis is melting too.


“Your hands are so warm,” Louis tells Harry as they make their way back to Niall’s.

They’ve been keeping themselves a few paces behind the rest of the boys because it seems safer back there.  Niall is too cold to make sure nobody gets lost and Zayn has been staring at his mobile since they left, only occasionally looking up to chat with Liam. Nobody can see it when they cross the street and Harry grabs onto Louis’ smaller hand, their fingers intertwining naturally.

Neither makes an attempt to stop, even as they’re long past the main roads and Louis smiles up at him. He looks so happy it actually makes Harry’s chest ache. What have I done to make him so happy? he thinks to himself. He wonders sometimes how anything he does is good enough for him, why Louis even wants him.

“Your hands are so tiny,” Harry replies. His curls hang in front of his eyes and Louis resists the urge to reach out and brush them away. He likes seeing his eyes.

“They’re not that tiny. You just have, like…abnormally large hands.”

“Right,” the younger boy laughs, glancing ahead at the rest of the lads before leaning down to give him a short kiss on the lips. Louis makes a needy sound and yanks him down by the collar, letting out a shaky breath.

“Your lips,” he says, leaning forward to suck on his bottom lip. “Are so soft. They’re like pillows.”

“Thanks? I suppose they are pretty big for a bloke,” Harry replies airily.

Louis smirks, but it fades abruptly. “Wish I could kiss you like this all the time.”

“Me too,” Harry says.

“Do you? Like…” the other boy trails off. “I really wanted to kiss you this morning. Do you ever wish we could just - be like that? Like in front of the lads and all.”

“Of course I do,” Harry says immediately, voice low like it always is when he’s serious. “I want to kiss you all the time.”

Louis squeezes his hand, blue eyes shifting away briefly before meeting Harry’s again. “I think Liam was just watching us.”

The taller boy blinks. When he looks ahead he can see Liam turning forward, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. Harry guesses that he’s blushing from being caught, though he can’t see from where they’re standing.

“Do you think he knows?” Harry asks.

“Well…” he says with a look that says ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble’. “He’s caught us snogging. And you know, he did witness you groping my arse. Pretty aggressively as well.”

Harry’s jaw drops, making a weak sound of protest. “Aggressively groping - God, you make it sound so nasty -”

“I was just saying!” Louis laughs, nosing at his boyfriend’s neck when he turns away shaking his head. “You’re still holding my hand,” he mutters after a moment.

“I am…”  

Louis bites back a smile, facing forward. “This is nice,” he says quietly, happily, swinging their hands together. “This is progress.”


“No offense Ni,” says Zayn, cigarette stuck between his lips. “But this vacation - is boring as fuck.”

“No offense Zayn,” the blonde replies instantly. “But if you blow smoke into my face one more fucking time, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.”

Zayn laughs. “I’d love to see you try.”

They’ve been inside the whole day, cleaning and showering and watching TV, trying their hardest to stay sane. They even tried playing Monopoly but Niall ended up flipping the board right before he went bankrupt.

It was Zayn’s idea to go outside, for ‘fresh air’ he claims, but everyone knows he’s just using it as an excuse to feed his new dirty habit. Liam doesn’t remember when he started smoking. He hates it though, makes him smell like shit.

They managed to scrape off most of the snow on the porch chairs but there’s only four of them and Zayn’s sprawled across the railing, fingers numb and shaking. Liam wonders if his quiff would crunch were he to touch it. Though he doubts he’d be able to get that close to his hair in the first place.

Harry and Louis sit next to each other and Liam is certain their seats are closer to each other than they were when they first found them. They’re both holding mugs, Louis’ filled with tea (no milk and no sugar because he’s such an avid tea drinker) and he’s pretty sure that Harry’s has coffee in it, which would make it his fourth cup that day.

Liam wonders how Harry sleeps.

Zayn and Niall have yet to stop their squabble and Liam had been zoning them out relatively well until suddenly he sees Niall lunge forward, and Zayn is yelling and flailing his arms wildly, falling over the edge with a loud thump. Harry immediately lets out a bark of laughter, loud and bright and Louis joins him once he’s registered what’s happened. They run to the railing together (always together) and Liam joins them belatedly, watching as his friend struggles to sit up in the near foot of snow he’s collapsed in.

Niall has a smug grin on his face and Zayn grimaces up at him, flipping him off. “Fuck you, you little Irish shit,” he mutters, standing up and brushing the snow off his jeans.

Harry sits back down again and this time Louis joins him, offering Zayn his seat. They just sort of fit together, Liam notices. And it’s so obvious, so so obvious to him now - how perfectly they fit together. It’s disgusting actually, and it took him a few slaps in the face to get it (ie. the snogging and the groping and the hand holding) but now it’s just clicking for him.

Basically, if they’re not fucking, Liam’s entire life is a lie.

“You know what I heard, Tommo?” Zayn asks offhandedly, lighting another fag, his first having gotten lost in the snow. Louis looks up from his tea and raises an eyebrow. “I heard you’ve got an admirer.”

“Is it Nialler?” Louis asks, his lips curling into a smile. “Always had a bit of a crush on him meself.”

“Nope,” says Zayn. “Ben Williams.”

Liam makes a face at that, remembering the boy in name from his English class the previous year. He’d once asked Liam how to spell the word ‘lotion’. Louis stops smiling very suddenly, his head jutting backward. “Ben’s not gay.”

“That’s not what I heard,” the other boy laughs. “He’s yet to come out but if the amount of dudes he’s fucked counts for anything, I think he’s a bit camp.”

“Oh,” Louis says lightly. “That’s interesting.”

“Well?” Zayn asks incredulously. “Do you fancy him or what?”

“No,” the older boy says like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “He’s good for a laugh but he’s the stupidest fucking twat I’ve ever met. Crap personality, too, I only like him when he’s shitfaced.”

“So? How many fucking gay kids do you think there are at this school?” he asks, pausing to take a drag of his cigarette. “Maybe you could like, go to prom with him or whatever. Get each other off, you’re probably way horny after all these months. No student teachers to suck off after all.”

Louis licks his lips before speaking in a calm tone, “First of all, you’re a fucking twat. Second of all, you can tell whoever said he fancied me, that I don’t want that nasty little prick anywhere near me. He’s a creep, and I’m too pretty for him anyways,” he says matter-of-factly.

Zayn rolls his eyes, huffing out a breath. “Just trying to help out your current single-ness.”

“And you’re any better?” Louis retorts, crossing his arms.

“For your information, I met a girl at the party last night, and I’ve been texting her all day.”

Harry makes a choked noise. “And what’s this girl’s name, Zayn?”

“He’s got her in his phone as ‘blonde babe’,” says Niall, grinning.

Zayn gives him a dirty look. “I’ll figure it out eventually,” he says.

“Not to be a creep, Lou, but have you had a boyfriend before?” Niall asks, curiously, leaning back in his chair.

Louis suddenly goes very tense in Harry’s lap.  “Yes.”

“How many?”

“Just one,” the older boy says faintly, returning his attention to Harry’s curls.

“What was he like?” Liam asks, playing with the strings of his jumper distractedly.

“I dunno, nice at first. Pretty standard first boyfriend. He’d only dated girls though, before me,” he mutters. “And I’d never had a boyfriend before either. ‘Cause neither of us were out of the closet…and then, like. He started acting like a wanker after a while and I caught him cheating on me.”

Liam looks surprised. “Did you dump him?”

“No,” he replies like it’s an obvious answer. “I was fifteen and I thought I was in love with him. I stayed with him for like five more months before he started acting like a lunatic. Then I dumped him.”

“Did you come out to your parents before or after you broke up with him?”

Louis shrugs. “After, I guess. I dunno - it’s complicated.”

Zayn narrows his eyebrows. “It’s complicated?” he repeats.

“Yes, it’s complicated.”

“How is it complicated?”

“It just is, Zayn,” Louis replies, letting out an exasperated breath. It’s silent for a few moments before anyone speaks again.

“What was his name?” Harry asks him in a small voice, staring at his shoelaces.

Louis stops moving his fingers, pausing to glance down at the younger boy. “Ethan,” he says evenly. “But he’s history now, babe.”

Harry doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. Liam’s pretty sure he isn’t, either.


“How is it complicated, Lou?” Harry asks later that night, when they’re laying in bed and the covers are rucked up to their shoulders.

It’s dark but there are still streetlights on outside and Harry keeps his eyes glued on the older boy. Louis smiles crookedly, his eyes sad. “I said it’s history, babe. Don’t worry about it, alright?”

“But -” the younger boy tries.

“It’s not a big deal. We should sleep, tomorrow’s our last day.”

“What? No, no - Lou. You’d never mentioned anything about your ex cheating on you before today. And you’ve never, ever mentioned anything about coming out to your parents and suddenly ‘it’s complicated’? Tell me what happened, Lou. Please.”

Louis swallows, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily. “Harry,” he says miserably. The younger boy doesn’t let it go, his face stony. “Fuck, whatever. I’ll tell you. But if I tell you what happened, you have to tell me something, too.”

“Alrigh’. What?”

“Not telling you yet,” he replies in a whisper, moving in closer. “I’m just warning you, this isn’t like - a brief story. It’s long, and fucked up, and comp -”

“Complicated, I get it. Go on now.”

“Fine,” the older boy sighs. “I met Ethan when I was ten, when he moved into my neighborhood. I was completely obsessed with him, which was unsurprising because I used to obsess over things really easily, it’s just this time my obsession lived two houses away from me. He was from Chelsea and his parents had just divorced and he was generally pretty quiet around people but I thought he was interesting. When he turned thirteen he started babysitting my sisters for my mum, ‘cause she’s a nurse and started coming home really late, and I was only eleven and couldn’t do it by myself. Uhm. So basically, I just pined after him for years. It was really, really pathetic, but I would. I’d go to all his rugby games and help him with his chores and listen to him when he moaned on and on about his girl troubles.

“And then, when I was fifteen, I went to a party with him at this girl Jamie’s house. I’m pretty sure I was smoking but I was already too drunk to really remember it, so, that wasn’t the best decision I’d ever made. ‘M not really sure when or how it happened, but we ended up in her little brothers bed, which is just - so gross, and I feel super guilty about it to this day. But, anyways, I uhm. Let him fuck me, and then for like a week it was super awkward. He’d never been with a guy before and neither had I, but the difference was I knew that I liked guys and he didn’t.

“He called me eventually and told me he wanted to talk. We went to the park near my house and he started telling me that he had all these feelings for me and that he’d always liked me and he’s sorry that he ignored me, he was just so confused. And then he told me we could see each other in private. I was so fucking excited about it, too, our secret relationship. I would’ve believed anything he fucking told me, I was such a fucking twat,” he says, his voice cracking. “So for like, four months, maybe five, everything was you know. Good. We’d see each other every day and he’d kiss me in an empty hallway and I’d think about it all day, think to myself, maybe this is gonna work out. Maybe this will last. When I look back on it now, though, it’s not like that at all. All I remember is the sex. That’s all our relationship really was, but I thought it was romantic. I thought that he loved me so much he couldn’t keep his hands off me.

“And then I found out he was cheating on me - constantly - with random girls. Some from our school, some from others, some from uni. I slept with him once more after that but I felt so dirty doing it, ‘cause I knew that it wasn’t special anymore. So, whenever he’d bring it up, I’d tell him I didn’t feel good or I was busy or whatever. I hadn’t talked to him for like a week when he came over one day absolutely fuming. He dragged me up to my bedroom in front of my whole family and started yelling at me, like, ‘what the fuck’s wrong with you’, ‘stop acting like a tease’, ‘you think you’re so much better than me’. He slammed me against a wall and told me I was his, and he’d do what he liked with me. I told him not to touch me and he hit me and - I started crying. Like, hysterical, gross sobbing. I told him I saw him cheating and he tried to deny it, asked who told me. He tried to deny it but I just kept telling him to get out and eventually my mom barged in and told him to leave.”

Harry frowns, giving him a sympathetic look that Louis pointedly ignores. “Is that when you told them?”

“No. That’s the complicated part.”

“Tell me, please?”

Louis clears his throat. “Uhm. Two weeks after I broke up with him I went to a party at my mate Stan’s house and got super fucked up. I didn’t remember anything the next day, but I felt gross, smelt gross, looked gross. I went to school on Monday and everyone was looking at me weird, calling me a fag and all that fun stuff. And then like, in the middle of first period Stan texted me telling me I needed to meet him in the bathroom. Turns out, someone had sent around a picture of me from the party getting head from some random bloke. It was obviously me in the picture, but like, you couldn’t see the other person’s face.”

“Oh my God, Lou -”

“That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that the person who took it sent it to like, everyone on their phone. One of which being my thirteen year old sister. It was obviously Ethan, I wasn’t really surprised. He didn’t even bother blocking his number, was probably drunk when he did it. Anyways, he ended up getting expelled because of it. I’m pretty sure it could’ve gone worse for him but my mum was so fucking embarrassed she settled for knowing he couldn’t go to school with me.”

“That is so fucked up,” Harry says in a shaky whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the older boy replies, sneaking an arm around his waist. “Shit happens. It’s in the past now.”

“Yeah, but -”

Louis shakes his head, kissing him to shut him up. “I don’t care, Harry. Everything that’s ever happened has made things the way that they are now. As gross as it is, if I hadn’t been fucked up enough in the head to think giving my teacher a blowjob was a good idea, I’d never have even met you. And you’re like, the greatest thing to happen to me. See how that works?”

“I love you,” Harry tells him, running his fingers through the other boys hair.

“I love you too.”

“Don’t I have a question to answer?”

“Hm?” the older boy says, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh, um. It can wait ‘til later. No worries.”

“Are you -”

Sleep, love.”

“Right. Okay…g’night…I love you.”


‘We’d see each other every day and he’d kiss me in an empty hallway and I’d think about it all day, think to myself, maybe this is gonna work out. Maybe this will last.

Harry thinks about everything Louis told him, thinks to himself fuck fuck fuck I’ve fucked this all up over and over because he has. Why the fuck has he waiting so long? What if a little part of Louis thinks that Harry is ashamed of him, of their relationship? How can he tell his friends about them without making it seem like he’s been trying to hide from them? They didn’t even know he was gay and suddenly, surprise, he’s dating one of their best friends!

He’s sitting at breakfast now, watching as Louis scarfs down a bowl of Cheerios and even though his hair is going in twelve different directions and his complexion is paler than usual, Harry still thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

The thing is, more than ever, Harry wants to be able to lean over and kiss him right then, morning breath and all, in front of all their friends. He wants to sit on his lap and throw his arms around his neck and tell him he looks gorgeous and be able to kiss the bashful smirk off his face without people giving them weird looks or muttering nasty things behind their backs.

He wants his friends to know when their anniversary is and be able to go to them for advice when they fight and have them make grossed out noises when they snog after school. He wants to tell them, so badly. He knows Louis wants it. He’s brought it up a dozen times before, mainly in ‘what if’ situations, like, ‘what if one morning we just started kissing in the middle of the caf. What do you think they’d do?’

Louis nudges his foot and smiles at him, waving his hand. “Earth to Harry,” he says, grinning. “Niall said we can go sledding. Are you coming?”

“Oh, uhm,” he stutters, sitting up straight. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Yes!” Niall shouts excitedly behind him, his footsteps disappearing up the staircase.

Louis grins, setting his bowl down in the sink. “Let’s go rummage about Niall’s closet. I didn’t bring any sledding gear.”

“They’ve got some in the guest room. Old coats and snow pants.”



There are no snow pants in the guest room. There is, however, a bed. A very big bed.

“Fuck,” Louis hisses as Harry yanks down his joggers, kissing him once on the lips before moving to his torso slowly, to the inside of his thighs, sucking wet patches into the sensitive skin. Harry works wet kisses  up the length of his cock, keeping a tight grip on his thighs. “God, God, God, oh -”

Harry closes his lips around the head of his cock, sinking down before curling his tongue around his length greedily. “Fucking shit, oh - my God,” the older boy curses, throwing his head back against the pillows and bucking his hips impatiently. “Your mouth, Harry.”

He doesn’t slow down until he’s taken him completely in, and Louis moans weakly, grasping onto the bed sheets. It feels like he hasn’t gotten head from Harry in ages, when in reality it’s barely been a month. This can’t be normal, he thinks.

Harry lifts his head, hollowing his cheeks before sliding off completely with a pop. He uses his hands then, working his cock slowly until his fingers are completely wet with his precome and shifts into a kneeling position, somehow managing to balance long enough so he can shuck his pants off and throw them to the side.

Louis looks up at him with rosy red cheeks and shiny lips and asks in a breathless voice, “What has gotten into you?”

“I’m feeling a bit drastic this morning,” Harry says shortly before leaning over the older boy. “I think I’ve had an epiphany.”

“I -”

“I want to tell the boys about us. I don’t want to put it off anymore, or hide what we are. From them at least. I want this to be real, I want this to last. It’s not gonna happen if I’m hiding us in a corner.”

Louis’ eyebrows have shot up into his forehead, eyes wide like saucers. “Wha - ? But - yesterday you - I - what?”

“Do you not want to?” Harry asks worriedly.

“Are you dumb?” The smaller boy replies very suddenly. “That’s exactly what I want to do. I just thought - yesterday we were holding hands for the first time in public. It’s just really unexpected is all.”

“I want you to be happy,” Harry tells him very simply. “I might be scared to face a lot of things. But I think. I think that you being happy is more important than me being able to hide from my problems. You know?”

Louis nods, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, kissing his cheeks and his nose and his temples and everywhere he’s able to reach. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispers, beaming up at the younger boy. “You’re so brave, Harry. More than you give yourself credit for.”

Harry smirks, batting his eyelashes. “I’m blushing, Lou.”

“I’m serious!” Louis says, letting out a bubbly laugh. He lifts his hand to tug on his necklaces, bringing him closer so he can kiss him again. “Now,” he whispers, still smiling. “Are you going to finish getting me off or what?”


It’s 11:30 pm. Zayn is half-asleep, dark eyelashes resting against his cheek, legs tangled in a blanket and head resting in Harry’s lap. Niall is exhausted and bruised, having taken a nasty fall when he went flying off his sled onto a patch of ice. He keeps checking his phone every five minutes, and Harry assumes something happened between him and Cher. Harry wants to ask, but the words seem to be stuck in his throat, too nervous to even laugh at the funniest parts of Elf.

Liam looks pensive, sitting by himself on Louis and Harry’s chair with a blanket pulled over his shoulders.

“Lads,” says Louis suddenly, and Harry’s heart is racing so fast he thinks he’s going to throw up. “Do you mind if I pause the movie?”

Niall springs up from his spot. “What? - It’s just getting to the good part!”

“Well I’m not throwing the bloody TV out the window, Ni, I’m just pausing it for a bit,” Louis mutters, flinging the remote back on the sofa. “Me and Harry want to tell you something.”

Liam straightens immediately, eyes enormous as he watches Louis sit back down next to Harry. “What’s going on?”

“Calm down. It’s nothing bad.”

Harry grips onto Louis’ sleeve and hopes he doesn’t look as nauseous as he feels. He knows this is for the best, but he can’t be blamed for being nervous. He’s never done this before, not even with his mum.

You can do this, he tells himself, taking in a steady breath. “Has Lou gotten you pregnant?” Zayn asks, and Harry lets out a shaky laugh.

“Er, no,” he answers, daring to look his friend in the eyes. Zayn looks…eager almost. Like he’s waiting, like he’s excited for what he’s about to say. Which, Harry thinks, is unusual. Zayn’s attitude could usually be described best as apathetic. “It’s about something I think you guys should know, ‘cause like. You’re my best mates, and I trust you with everything and all. I just don’t want to hide things from you -”

“Are you dying?” Niall asks, sounding devestated.

“No, Niall,” says Harry. Zayn sits up from his laying position, resting his elbows on his knees. Liam shushes the Irish lad abruptly when he tries to speak again, slumping back into the couch cushions. “It’s about something really personal. And I never thought that I was lying about it necessarily, because I haven’t even known myself well enough to lie about it. I think that…at this point, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? I mean. I’m not exactly the most subtle person at times.”

The room is silent. He’s drawn this out too much, God, he knows he has. It’s on the tip of his tongue but it hangs in the air, taunting him. Grow the fuck up, he tells himself. Spit it out.

“Basically, I just wanted to tell you guys - that the way Louis and I act isn’t just ‘cause we get on well, or that - that we see each other like brothers. It’s not like that at all.”

Harry looks at Niall, who’s sitting directly across from him, eyes so wide he’s scared they might pop out of his head. Zayn’s face is blank besides the slight trace of a smirk on his lips and Liam’s hanging onto every word he’s saying. He knows what he’s going to say, he must.

We’re together,” he blurts suddenly. “Shit, wait - I’m gay. I was supposed to say that first, but also - like, we’ve been together for a couple of months. I’ve messed this up haven’t I?” Louis drops his head next to him, covering the mad blush on his cheeks with his hands. 

“So you two are like, official?” Liam asks and the younger boy nods at him, too nervous to look at any of the other boys. “How long?”

“Uhm. A couple of months really, but. Officially the night that he got here.”

“I always knew you two would be good for each other,” says Niall through a mouthful of crisps. “This is kind of my doing, innit? I introduced the two of you. Harry didn’t want to meet you ‘cause he thought you’d be a freak -”

Harry looks at the Irish lad helplessly. “Shut the fuck up, Niall!”

“And then I insisted and we all become pals with Lou. You’re welcome,” he adds, grinning widely.

“Why’d you think I was a freak?” Louis asks, frowning.

“I didn’t,” Harry lies.

Zayn snorts. “He thought you were weird because Niall was way too eager to get you friends.”

“Remember when we showed Lou around the school that whole day?” Liam asks, laughing.

“You were a right bitch, mate,” Niall says blatantly.  

Louis gasps, placing a hand on his chest. “I was not!”

Harry laughs for a moment, about to agree with Niall before suddenly he remembers what just happened and -

“Wait, I thought I was gonna throw up before I finally spat that out! I’m gay and I’ve been in a secret relationship with someone in our own group of friends for several months. We both lied to you. For months. Does that mean nothing to you people?”

“What do you want me to do? Kick you out of my house?” Niall questions. “I didn’t judge you when you cried on your first day of school and I won’t judge you now.”

“Hey, remember that one time Harry peed his pants?” Zayn says, eliciting a laugh from Liam.

“I was ten!” Harry yells, looking insulted. “And I had a lot of soda that day and that roller coaster was like, obscenely fast.”

Zayn does some sort of imitation of Harry, girly shriek and all, and Niall wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

Louis rubs Harry’s arm comfortingly, brushing his nose against his burning cheek. “You did really good, babe,” he whispers.

The younger boy rolls his eyes, turning an even darker shade of red. “By good do you mean horrendous?”

“No!” Louis says, brushing a curl out to the side so he can get a proper look at him. “You were nervous. It was perfect. You know, very you.”

“Are you calling me awkward?” Harry asks, poking Louis’ side.

“Maybe a bit,” he laughs.


When they finally finish laughing at Harry’s expense, Niall asks to see them kiss, and Harry has a sudden rush of deja vu, remembering the night in the woods. Louis telling them he was gay, Niall being overbearing, the two of them sharing their first kiss.

It ends shortly and the two of them end up breaking into a fit of giggles, the younger boy turning away abashedly. Liam watches them with a small smile, ordering a group hug.

(‘You are such a sap,’ says Louis.
‘I’m a bloody emotional creature. Now hug me!’)

And when they pull apart, smiling like fools and laughing because ‘could we get any lamer?’, Liam pulls Harry aside and says to him lowly, “If he hurts you, Harry -”

“Liam, I love you, but trust me - he won’t.”

“I know, I know - it’s just that,” Liam thinks, “you’ve never been serious about anyone before and. I don’t know what you’re like when you’re in love, okay?”

“Are you lads talking about me?” Louis asks, jumping onto the taller boy’s back and wrapping his arms around his neck.

Harry let’s out a muffled ‘oof’ and smirks unevenly, turning his head slightly to let Louis kiss him. And - wow, kissing in front of Liam really feels like kissing in front of your mum. Not that he would know.

“You two are so cute together,” says Niall, hooking an arm around Harry’s middle and pulling him into a hug. “At least someone ‘round here is happy.”

“I’m happy,” says Zayn, bumping hips with the Irish boy and wrapping an arm around Liam’s neck.

“Me too,” Liam agrees, and God, they’re all hugging again. Maybe they should feel weird about it, but they just don’t. Harry is so happy to have the friends he does he feels like he could cry and Louis’ lips against the back of his head isn’t helping his case.

Later, they’ll press play and finish their film, all cuddled comfortably together on the same couch, sharing blankets and using each other’s shoulders as pillows. Louis will kiss Harry on the lips and they’ll both savor the feeling of it, interlocking their fingers underneath the borrowed comforter. Niall will tell them he’s still awake and there are four bedrooms upstairs if they want some alone time, and Harry will blush because, yeah, his friend’s might be accepting, but it doesn’t make them any less of twats.


~feedback would be lovely :))))) 

this chapter went a bit fast but omg they’ve been on break for forever and i wanted them to know so it had to be a little sped up. they go back to school next chapter.

  1. rosieb28 reblogged this from boolondon